#''cause i want you to know what it feels like to be haunted''

[alexlwrites]

And here it is at last!!! Part 4 of "Yoongi who never had a crush... Until you" from my notes app!

Feedback is always appreciated <3

(<<< Part 3)

(buy me a coffee ;) )

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Yoongi had officially given up.

He tried everything. Every seduction technique, every prayer and manifestation chant, everything but maturely communicating his feelings (that was for losers anyway!). Alas, even the clairvoyant kids on TikTok seemed to believe you were both just not meant to be, as he had never been able to find a soulmate video that matched your initials with his.

Needless to say, he reported all the videos for false information. Fuck them kids. 

Thoroughly humiliated, he got tired of being the endless source of entertainment to his five friends and Jimin (now no longer a friend, but his public enemy) and decided that it was time to count his losses and move on. And yes, it would hurt, and yes, the thought of lips against his would haunt him for a lifetime, but surely it was nothing a marathon of Property Brother and a shitload of alcohol couldn’t heal. 

And as if the universe had heard him for once, suddenly he wasn’t seeing you as often as he used to. No longer were you the one responsible for bringing him his morning coffee or reminding him of his schedule, but some rat mustached boy named Bob. Yoongi kind of hated Bob, unreasonably so, but at that time Yoongi kind of hated everything so Bob didn’t take it that personally.

A couple days after his hurtful decision of moving on and deleting all his first date ideas from his note app, Yoongi was moping around his studio, alone for once after he changed the password to the door to keep his friends from attempting to cheer up with their less than ideal ways (really, Jin? A mariachi singing telegram?). He was bitterly drinking from his wrong coffee order (FUCKING BOB!!!) when the door opened and, of all people, you showed up. 

“Hi, Mr. Min!” you said to which he smartly answered with an unidentifiable noise “I’m sorry to interrupt your… Is that Extreme Makeover Home Edition?”

Yoongi hastily closed his laptop. Then threw it in the trash.

“No. I was working on some new music. It wasn’t good so…” he pointed at the can “Garbage.”

“Right…” you agreed doubtedly making Yoongi want to join his laptop “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I was transferred to another department, unfortunately, so now Bob will be with you full time. He’s the one that gave me your new password, actually. I hope you guys are getting along well!”

Fucking Bob!!!

“We are not. I hate him.”

You laughed and Yoongi wasn’t sure what was so funny about what he said, but he was glad anyway. 

“You’re so funny, Mr. Min. I’m gonna miss working with you.” you looked at him with such fondness that for a moment Yoongi thought his heart was going to climb out his chest through his mouth “Although, I’m glad you’re not my boss anymore.”

His dancing heart stopped. Oh, no. Oh, no. Was he a terrible boss? Was he the Gordon Ramsey of idols? Did he ever treat you like he treated Bob? 

“Oh?” he said, holding back a three minute long scream. 

“Yeah” you continued, tucking down a lock of hair behind an ear shily “cause now I don’t feel so bad asking if you’d like to get dinner with me sometime?”

Fuck it. Bob’s getting promoted.

[summerongrand]

7x04: Darkness Falling

(ICYMI: read my 7x03 recap here)

Chenford

The Kojo scene is meant to parallel 6x08, showing-not-telling just how far Chenford have come. 6x08 was beautifully executed—painful in the best way—like an excruciatingly haunted version of Rascal Flatts’ What Hurts the Most. 7x04 was not. One of these days, probably over the summer, I'll write a full psychoanalysis meta of Tim in that 6x08 scene.

The star of 7x04 is Kojo (duh). He senses Lucy before she even knocks. He listens to Tim’s gentle command to “stay”—at first. But the moment Lucy leaves, he whines, like, “Hey, Mom, I’m your dog. Remember me?” He doesn’t chase after her, even though we know he wants to. Melissa’s out of character ad-lib about the butt scratch (she confirmed this was her, not Lucy) was a distraction that pulled focus from Lucy, but that’s on Kojo’s scene partner, not him. Kojo did his job perfectly. Also Eric Tim sitting on his couch? Hot as hell.

"I'm sorry, why are you at my door asking me that?"

"Come on!"

Tim’s line is all of us wondering why Lucy is even at his door. It’s a tongue-in-cheek way to force a moment between them without actually showing any real progress. The show hasn't done the work to establish that Chenford are at a place where Lucy would just show up at his house, and I’m not going to fill in the gaps with interviews or my imagination. That’s their job—both the writers and the actors. As someone who strongly identifies with Lucy, I’m disappointed in how she’s being portrayed.

Like, you’re telling me Lucy couldn’t just pull Tim aside at work for this conversation? That she chose to have a conversation about confidential police matters in front of his open door where his neighbors could hear? And Tim Bradford of all people doesn’t have a security camera? Come on. I get that Lucy values Tim’s advice—that’s always been clear. But he’s also tainted. He broke up with her to protect her from being tainted by him. So why is she coming to his house? And why is he letting her? If he truly cared enough about her and her career to end things (because “you have more to lose than Angela”), then he wouldn’t let her do this.

If I were delulu enough, I'd see this as the same sleight of hand flirting that parallels 5x21:

"Do you mean do I miss you already? No. I'm fine."

"You are such a jerk."

They missed the mark on this if that's what they're going for.

Illuminating polygraph tests

All of the takes I’ve seen focus on this line as subtext for the “Do you love me?” moment, reading it as Tim’s way of affirming that he still loves Lucy. But I see it differently. I believe the "Do you love me?" question from the polygraph test was Lucy’s way of testing the validity of the setup. Tim put the test together himself—it wasn’t conducted under any official capacity where it would have been vetted for false positives and negatives. The point wasn’t for Lucy to find out if Tim loves her; it was to gauge whether the test could accurately detect deception, particularly in the context of undercover work.

Look, the UC Lucy storyline isn’t over. I loved some of Lucy’s UC personas (Juicy) and I didn't love others (Jamie). There’s a low-priority sociocritical analysis of Jamie I’d love to write up at some point, but for now, it’s on the back burner. Point being, UC hasn't gone away. It showed up briefly in the shortened S6 and in 7x01, Grey brings up Lucy’s UC aspirations before assigning her a rookie.

The illumination Tim speaks of? I think it's about UC. And we’ll likely see one or both of Lucy and Seth going UC in 7x07, with this line acting as a throughline from Grey’s mention of UC in 7x01. I think something will happen in 7x06 that will cause the UC conversation to reappear.

Feeling's mutual.

Let’s get one thing straight: Kojo sent Lucy the birthday card, okay? He just needed a little help. Kojo doesn’t have opposable thumbs, so Tim had to write it for him (though, to be fair, Kojo signed it). Kojo can’t drive yet—he’s three in human years, and you need to be at least sixteen for a license in California—so Tim had to drive him to Lucy’s apartment. Kojo also doesn’t speak English, so duh, Tim had to translate “feeling’s mutual” for him. Let’s be clear: this isn’t Tim saying he misses Lucy. It’s Tim saying Kojo misses Lucy.

Joking aside, "feeling's mutual" is a sign of progress on Tim's part. I would have liked to see it delivered with more softness-not necessarily to the extent of I am now (although that would be nice) but somewhere in the middle of what we got for feeling's mutual and I am now. Tim's guard is up, and I think Eric was intentionally playing it that way. Tim has always been a complex character, due in no small part to Eric's microexpressions. That doesn't mean Lucy needs to lean into it.

Ordering food.

Lucy doesn’t look like she’s leaving anytime soon (and that’s on her). She clearly loves Kojo—Tim knows it. He’s just trying to be a good host. There’s nothing more to it on his end. But Lucy? She suddenly realizes just how comfortable she is at her ex’s place, and now she’s scrambling to screw her head back on again. She closes the door as if to say I'll see myself out and don't follow me to my car. Again, why even show up at his place in the first place?

Lotus necklace

This is Lucy’s first time wearing it. It’s part of her culture and symbolizes new beginnings. That said, I doubt there was any of that intention behind it. Julia, the costume designer, doesn’t seem particularly attuned to Lucy’s culture, and from what I can tell, she likely just chose something that looked similar enough to Tim’s necklace while still being distinct.

What hurts the most

What bothers me most about the Chenford scene is that it didn’t have to be this way. Their relationship had issues—built partly on lies—but the partnership and trust are still there. I've mentioned several times that I have no issues with Chenford as partners. The show messed up how they got together, fine. So take a step back, rebuild what needs rebuilding, but you don’t have to tear down the entire foundation. You're messing with natural soil at that point.

Lucy probably had a key to Tim’s house at some point—maybe she still does. I'm sure she's slept over there plenty (and then some), maybe even has a drawer and closet space. But she knocks now because it’s not her place to just walk in anymore.

Tim

My blorbo. I need you to heal and get back together with Lucy Chen when you're all healed, okay? She'll continue putting out your spot fires but you need to do the work. I need you to do the work. The writers have turned you into a piece of work and that's not okay. You're not a piece of work. You're a masterpiece.

Lucy

My other blorbo. Why is she playing B&B hostess to her ex's ex (Rachel) and her ex's wife (Bailey)? With all the kid talk between Bailey and Nolan, why not stick Bailey with Wopez or Jayla who actually have kids and live in decent sized homes? She can bond with Wes/James over being a LEO spouse.

Nyla

Why did Angela and Nyla even separate in an unfamiliar space where they are literal targets because flashlights in the dark? Nyla injected with a paralytic (and dirty needle?) and beaten was all kinds of fucked up and difficult to watch. That was one of the worst things to happen to any character.

Nyla doesn't need to be strong all the time and I'm glad Angela saw through that at the hospital. I can't wait for her to shine this season.

Wopez/Wesley

Someone give him a hug. Del Monte's a dick for talking about how attractive Angela is but it puts things into perspective for Wes, it showed Wes that he's overreacting. His feelings are valid but the Detective crushing on Ange did so in a therapy session. He wasn't hitting on Angela. There is a difference.

Wes guilt tripping himself over Novak. Angela consoling him. Wopez love.

Miles

Miles is layered like Tim is layered. This guy's putting up a front because he's hurt. His fuck ups and cockiness are part of his baggage. His facade is fading though and I have a feeling we'll see the real Miles soon. His last scene with Tim was chef's kiss. He's starting to understand Tim four episodes in just as Lucy was breaking down Tim's walls early on (clocking him as calculating not cruel in 1x04 and in 1x07 calling him weird and DEAR Method incarnate, stealing his money clip).

Bailey

Nothing against Jenna Dewan—she's talented—but the conditions she’s working under hinder her ability to truly shine. The character feels underdeveloped and, at times, shoehorned into the story rather than organically fitting in.

In her scenes with Lucy, Celina and Wade, there's such a focus on her as if the others are there to 'serve' her. Lucy serving Bailey a hot beverage was likely just a blocking decision to justify Lucy being on FaceTime with Nolan, but Bailey expecting Lucy to bring her luggage? Ick. Rachel's unemployed and doesn't have anything better to do. Ask Rachel. And while I can understand Bailey getting territorial about another woman in her home, the moment she realizes it’s Celina, she just doesn’t care. Not even a thank you.

Don't even get me started on Wade. I'm more upset at how Nolan treated Wade than I am at Bailey. He is your Lieutenant and your Watch Commander. Mid Wilshire is his house and you do not disrespect Wade Grey in his house. You want someone to babysit your wife? Fine. Ask Smitty or Wrigley. Don't ask Wade like you're owed. He's dealing with a corruption scandal and even if he weren't, he doesn't have time for your primadonna drama.

Seth

He gets his own section this week. I'd put his name under Lucy's because his storyline is related to hers, but he doesn't deserve it. Under Bailey you go, Seth. While many in the fandom are cooing at him like he's just a baby, I've hated him since the beginning.

On top of my inkling, Lucy Chen has repeatedly been screwed over by white men in her career. I have a bad feeling he's gonna continue to be a liability on Lucy's career. She already got dinged by Grey in 7x02 and by Grey and brass in 7x03 because of him.

On top of his lying and taking advantage of her empathy, there's the narcissism. When Lucy tells him to put his phone away, he gives some bullshit sob story about his test results and dejectedly says “okay” as if it's Lucy's fault. He doesn't put his phone away, she catches him in another lie with his Google Alerts, proving again that his word is useless. She needs to set better boundaries with him—a simple “What did I just say?” would make it clear she’s not here to coddle him.

Seth disrespected rank and a direct order from his TO. When Miles disrespects rank, he gets reprimanded by both Tim and Lucy (you're not fit to breathe the same air ... darlin'). Seth gets none of that. I'm tired of white men getting preferential treatment on this show.

Then there’s his incompetence—he can’t even measure distance correctly. On top of that, he’s outright rude to Miles, like he has any room to be a dick. And that “Whoopsie” moment? Straight-up Criminal Minds unsub behavior.

Other thoughts

Kevin Zegers is always welcome on my screen. Much like Lucy fangirling over Vampire Cop, I had a crush on him back in the day.

Tim's new home has enough wood and trinkets to appease all the fire gods. It should've been sacrificed in exchange for all the other homes that burnt up in last month's fires.

I did not care for Novak but at least we got Angela recruiting those sorority girls to the LAPD out of it.

Hulu doc? Okay, Alexi. The Rookie's big on Hulu. We get it.

Where is Rachel?

CHP stereotypes fully confirmed by me 💁‍♀️

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

Boom surprise Sadie Adler x F!Reader smut because I’m not allowed to kiss girls and I need to write my frustrations abt it </3 I’ve been working on this for a WEEK maybe? It just kept getting longer and longer 😭 also thank you for 207 followers WAAA 🥺🫶🏼 mdni!! (My first published smut!!! 🫣 and first proper fic I think? Lol)

“S-shit- sorry..”

You had kissed Sadie Adler.

“I’m so sorry..”

Couldn’t even say her name.

“T’was- was an accident-“

“No,” came out of those soft lips of hers. It sounded more urgent than commanding, albeit hushed. Maybe it was your wishful thinking hoping she wasn’t mad at you.

Both of you stayed still, eyes darting everywhere but at each other. A hug to welcome her from her travels escalated into something much more.

If it was really an accident, then why was it such a big deal to you? Best friends would laugh it off, if that is what you are to each other. Sometimes, as strange as it sounds, it was really hard to tell.

You turned away first. Hearing, feeling her breath on your face making you uneasy.

But she didn’t let you. The fingers meant to catch onto your wrist caught on your hand before you so much as took another step. You stumbled back into her with a bump.

“I-”

“Did you-..” Sadie paused, voice lower than her usual volume. She didn’t usually think much of her words. But with you, it was as if she weighed every vowel. Always so careful. Even more at this very second.

“Did you hate it?” She braved herself to look at you. The same eyes used to stare daggers into one’s soul, so scared of you. Scared of this unknown thing that’s been festering between the two of you. Scared of accidentally pulling out what might have taken root.

“Hate what?”

“The kiss.”

Your mouth felt dry, eyes locked on your joint hands. Your chest tightened and it felt hard to breathe. What wasn’t real before was real now, the two words uttering everything unspoken.

It was a kiss as much as Uncle had lumbago. Merely a brush of your lips when both of you turned your heads yet it was a kiss to you nonetheless.

You just didn’t think she’d agree.

“No,” you admitted, praying she wouldn’t hear. Your stomach churned at the thought of searching her face. The quiet of the night seemed to stretch on forever and it made you wonder why, why did you wait for her return every night? A question filled with regret as well as genuine wonder.

It was probably the gnawing guilt you felt for somewhat ignoring her before she left. Only you knew why you did it and that it meant more than what it appeared. But why did it disturb you so much? Why does she haunt you so much?

As though sensing your will to leave again, she tightened her grip. Until then, you didn’t know that you could feel suffocated and comforted at the same time.

“Please talk to me..” Sadie rasped, her familiar boldness stripped off, leaving her bare in front of you. It wasn’t like you’re a stranger to this side of her. You’re one of the only person who gets to see it. It’s just that after all those times listening to her past, it’s about you now.

“Am I readin’ this wrong?” Her thumb slid across your palm and your heart skipped a beat. “Cause I feel like I’m goin’ crazy.. W-what is it? With us?”

The stutter in her speech convinced you that she was just as scared. It didn’t provide you any reassurance if not made it worse. You could fight your own doubts and fears. But it wasn’t so simple when it came to Sadie.

You could have your heart trampled on by horses and it would hurt much less than seeing her frown.

“Nothin’s wrong with us,” you shake your head before forcing yourself to face her. She looked almost desperate as opposed to the girl you knew so well and it broke your fucking heart. It strangely made you want to kiss her again.

“I- I just..” I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.

“I can’t lose you,” she blurted out, impossibly tightening her grip on you and adding another hand. “I don’t know what I did. But I know I pissed you off enough for you to act all strange around me before I left and I hate leavin’-”

“You didn’t piss me off..” you shake your head once more, giving her hands a squeeze. “Sadie, I-”

“Then can I kiss you again?”

You felt your heart jump up your throat, you could choke.

Yet you find yourself nodding.

She gently tugged on your hands and pulled you into a soft kiss. You closed your eyes upon the feel of her lips, losing yourself while your hearing loses itself in the beat of your own heart.

It took a while for you to realize that she kept on pulling your hands, leading you further from camp.

“Sadie..” you breathed out between kisses. You wanted to say that whatever’s happening between the two of you still wasn’t resolved. It was like she was in such a rush, it made you wonder if something had happened in her travels. But at the same time, this felt like everything you’ve ever wanted.

She tasted like everything you’ve ever wanted.

And if maybe she was using you for relief, you’d let her.

“Hm?” She sounded like she was too far gone to be listening. That is, if not for how good her name rolled off your tongue when you’re all breathless like this.

Sadie suddenly yelped, having tripped over something and falling on her back, pulling you down with her. Your eyes widened at how close you were. How beautiful she was with her flyaways now that her hat’s knocked off. She just chuckled, holding your face and kissing you again.

“I’m sorry,” she smiled against your lips. “For- for- mph- everything..” The rapid beating in your chest aside, you were relieved to hear the old Sadie again. You groaned and kissed her deeper as though to shut her up, your hands pulling on the collar of her shirt. She snickered even though she felt something else entirely bothering her.

Out of impulse, Sadie bucked her hips up against you, earning a whine from your lips.

Fuck.

She had to hear that again. She repeated the movement and there it was.

“Sadie,” you moaned, scrunching up the fabric of her shirt in your fists. Your mind malfunctioned from whatever she was doing. All you knew was that you wanted more.

She mirrored you with a plea of your name and continued to grind up against you. You could feel yourself getting wetter, so taken with how she feels that your mouth stopped kissing her, staying agape. Sadie gladly watched, in awe of how beautiful you’ve always been to her.

“You like that?” She asked between pants. You found yourself nodding again. “Can I touch you?” And again.

Her hands moved to your hips, grounding you down against her and you gasped. It still wasn’t enough.

Her fingers made their way under your nightdress. It wasn’t noticeable until they grazed your clothed crotch, sending shivers throughout your body. You’d be lying if you said you’ve never touched yourself to the thought of her before. But somehow this all seemed so new. Like it never crossed your mind how it would actually play out in real life.

As Sadie continued to slip her fingers past layers of fabric, your forehead found home in the dip of her shoulder like the many times it has before. Though the motion felt different from when you laughed or cried against her. It was clear now that every part of her was simply made to hold you.

In more ways than one. As more than a friend.

You made another noise that was music to Sadie’s ears when her fingers found your clit. Your hands instinctively grabbed her arms in a feeble attempt to calm whatever’s brewing inside you.

“This okay?” She asked quietly against your temple, hesitating to kiss it. She’s inhaled all the air out of your lungs, her fingers almost inside you this very second, and yet.

“Yes,” you answer like how you would to a god. So she continued to touch you like how she would touch herself.

“I’ve never..” rub. “It’s been a while.” Rub. she said it so sheepishly like your breaths aren’t growing more labored each time she moved. Rub.

“It’s alright.” I’ll take anything you give me.

“Can you look at me?” She nudged your brow with her nose. You obeyed, slowly lifting your head to level hers.

What a sight you were. Your parted lips, your half lidded eyes, how your eyebrows scrunched when she pressed on your bundle of nerves.

“Shit..” she just had to kiss you again. Might just have to keep at it until those glossy lips are swollen, a reminder of how she’s tasted you and that she doesn’t think she could get enough.

She’s been in love before and it felt an awful lot like this.

With Sadie sitting up and holding your waist, her fingers picked up pace and it all became too much for you that you quivered. Even so, you still needed more of her.

“You feel- ah! so-.. mmh..” the way a string of your saliva clung onto her lips when you gasp was too much for her to handle.

“Yeah?” Fuck, you were so turned on by everything she says or does. Like she knew what she was doing when in truth, she was still experimenting with you. Like a girl with a new toy on Christmas day. Careful yet curious. And with every new reaction she got, her eyes practically gleamed.

You nodded, unaware when you started moving against her fingers.

When Sadie pulled away to catch her breath, your eyes landed on the top of her shirt, a few buttons undone. There was something about her chest. How it fogged up your head whenever you talked to her and caught sight of it. You had to look away before you let out a whimper just thinking about what they could possibly look like.

She blushed when she saw what you were looking at. Hell, did she feel the same way about you. How she’s always wanted to see what you looked like under this goddamn nightdress. How torturous it is to share a cot with you and having to just.. Sleep.

When she realized she could taste you, her lips latched on to your neck. She spread your wet folds apart just to see if your pulse would quicken. Your throat deliciously bobbed before you exhaled a breathy moan.

“You want me to push it in?”

“Yes, yes please,” you begged, repeatedly dragging your sex on her fingers. She complied.

She helped you lift yourself up a bit as she slowly inserted her middle finger inside. Watched your scrunched up face the entire time, not willing to miss it for the world.

You let out a breath you’ve been holding once she pushed it all the way in. Almost immediately, she slid it back out, circling your clit before ramming it in again. Your wetness made it easy for her to repeat this a couple of times, making you whimper.

“Does it feel better than a dick, sweetheart?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper, a genuine question as much as a tease. It was true even with one finger. Sadie’s finger. You were too consumed to be embarrassed, the sloshing noises from your cunt speaking for itself.

“Mhm, It’s- ah!” You gasped as her finger stretched you in circles, her palm on your clit.

“Too much?” She looked up at you, concerned, searching your face as she slowed to a stop. Only to be met with your contorted face while you shake your head.

“N-no.. It’s not..” you trailed off, looking down to where you sat while you tried to catch your breath. It just dawned on you the wet patch on her pants. Surely that can’t be all your doing.

Cautiously, you reached for her belt. Your fingers were shaking.

“What’re you doin’?” She chuckled nervously, caught off guard and vulnerable with the state you found her in.

“Can I?” You asked softly, looking down at her. Still breathing heavily, you bit your lip, your eyes glazed as you felt her pull her finger out. As much as she wanted to taste you, she had this overwhelming need to watch you taste yourself. Needed to know what you’d look like after you touched yourself.

She lifted her fingers to touch your lips and without being told, you sucked on them. Your eyes trained on hers as you licked her fingers clean of yourself.

Lord..

Who is she to say no when you looked at her like that? As if she ever knew how.

“Y-yeah.. Yeah, okay..”

You released her finger with a pop and smiled before starting to unbutton her pants. If it was even possible for a heart to race faster, you swear yours did by looking at more of her skin. Meanwhile, Sadie looked at you the entire time. The strands of hair stuck to your face, the focused expression you had as you worked through her garment, your own fucking liquids laced on your lips..

“You’re my savin’ grace,” she suddenly said, quiet enough only for you to hear. You looked up at her, not quite understanding. Though it didn’t really matter when she kissed you. To hide how fragile she felt after that confession and to just.. God, she just wanted to keep kissing you. She hadn’t realized how much she missed kissing. How nice it was to be in love.

You giggled into the kiss, not one to complain. If only you were aware of how much you affected her. Sadie refused to break the kiss, tightly holding onto your face even when you adjusted to remove her pants completely. You straddled her again after, your legs folded on either side of her.

“Christ, the grass is sharp. Pokin’ at my ass,” she huffed, pausing the kiss to look down. You laughed and smacked her arm, not used to such comments in this sort of situation.

“Sadie!”

“What?” She smiled, looking up at you as she held you closer. Her fingers traced the sides of your arms, sending chills down your spine along with the night air. It didn’t help either that you were now sitting right on top of her wet crotch. Her hairs scratched your clit through the fabric in the most pleasant way.

“I shouldn’t have gotten you stark naked in here, sorry,” you said shyly. It suddenly occurred to you how much you wanted her that you were willing to do it in the open.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about,” she chuckled, pulling your face into yet another kiss for God knows how many times tonight. “Now what were you gonna do to me?”

And just like that, the feeling in your stomach returned.

“Wanted to- mmh- to- try somethin’..” you murmured, right hand holding her waist while your left slowly lifted her right leg from under you, emitting a moan from her. Your lips retreated from hers, now having connected by your foreheads. Immediately, your eyes moved to take a proper look at her sex. You just had to touch her. Needed to. So you left her leg to rest on your shoulder and you touched her.

Your fingers reached her wet folds and oh, it was so wet. Wet in every sense of the word and full of slick. When you felt your way around, Sadie let out a throaty whine that felt warm on your face. Her hands landed on your shoulders. Like she isn’t quite sure what to do with them. Is it okay to wrap her arms around you?

“I got you,” you assured her in a whisper prior to kissing her cheek. It was such a sweet gesture that she was taken aback when you started slowly circling her clit with your thumb. She breathed out your name and you hummed in satisfaction as you started a trail of kisses down to her jaw.

Sadie bucked up against your fingers and you could tell she was getting impatient. It hit you that she wanted this as much as you did and you don’t think you’ll ever believe it.

“I told you I got you,” you say sweetly against her neck. All the while penetrating her with two fingers at once. Not like it was hard to do at this point.

“Shit- oh-” her rasps as you steadily moved in and out of her were intoxicating. Surely this was a dream. You’ve only seen her this way in your dreams and they aren’t even a quarter as wonderful as this.

Her leg twitched above your shoulder as your fingers kept the pace, your thumb flicking and pressing the nub above her entrance. Your other hand gently pushed her down, moved by the way her chest heaved as she panted. You were past being shy.

You opened the buttons on her shirt and she surprisingly helped. It was like your heart counted down with you to the moment she revealed herself.

She was prettier than you could have ever imagined.

You thought you wanted to touch her breasts. What you didn’t realize was that you already did. As though your hand had a mind of their own. You continued to do so, relishing every inch and scar with your fingers. Her face and the noises she made throughout will definitely create a place in your mind.

As you sucked on her bud, you could feel her clench around your fingers and hear her whine. This must be precisely what heaven is like.

You wondered what would happen if you quickened your fingers and you did, making her call out your name.

“K-keep that up and I- shit-.. I ain’t gonna last long.” And you planned on doing exactly that. You pulled out to rub her clit before pushing your fingers in again. She gasped, moving away at the motion until your hand returned to her waist, keeping her in place. You didn’t know what possessed you. You just had to know what she looked like completely undone.

You lifted her waist a bit like how you would yourself as your fingers searched for that place inside of her. You knew you reached it when she let out a strangled noise and grabbed your arm.

“Right there?” She could only nod, jaw slack. You felt yourself clench at the sight, your movements unfaltering to her pleasure. It didn’t take long for her to come.

You made sure to watch her face when it happened, memorizing how she trembled under you, kissed her and swallowed her cries.

Again, you didn’t know what got into you. But you pulled out of her and quickly rubbed her clit throughout her orgasm, making her scream into the kiss before she pushed you off her. You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you laid next to her, sucking her cum off your fingers. You made a mental note to drink it from the source next time.

“Lord, what’s gotten into you?” Sadie panted, a big smile on her face. Not that she’d have it any other way. You just giggled, covering your face. She saw this from the corner of her eye and scoffed, catching her breath before she got up to straddle you.

“Now, you don’t get to be all shy again after doin’ that to me,” she chuckled, removing your hands from your face and pinning them down.

“I’m sorry, I just..” no matter what you do, you couldn’t stop smiling. Despite the loud beating of your heart from what you’re about to say. “I’ve been wantin’ to do all kinds of things to you Sadie.. God, I’m crazy about you.”

Sadie felt like her heart was about to combust from how fast it was beating. Returning her feelings right after making her come? She couldn’t be more sure of how she felt about you at that very moment.

“I know I ain’t a man and I’m not supposed to-”

“Just shut up and let me kiss you again?” Of course you let her.

thank you for reading!! 🫶🏼

my masterlist

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 14: Left for Dead

"'Cause I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted" -tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn

2367 Words; Divergent AU

TW for attempted emotional manipulation (pythor)

AO3 ver

The ocean was just as blue looking from sandy shores as it was looking from the lighthouse.

Well, no, not exactly the same—it was much closer, now, the sense of distance he was so used to gone. But the white-capped blue looked almost the same as ever, so he turned his attention to the rest of the beach behind him. To the trees further on, and the jungle further beyond that.

Cole—the bulkier of the two humans who had found him—and Morro—the human with the green streak in his hair—had disappeared into the trees a while ago to check on something. This left him with Pythor—the Serpentine, a species that he had never seen before—who had taken to lying on a particularly warm boulder higher up on the shore, eyes closed.

It was… it was all so new.

(“Do you want to leave?” Morro had asked, after Cole and Pythor had—with his instruction—helped get his leg and arm working again.

He had. He wanted to leave so badly.)

His name… Father had named him Zane, but when he had proclaimed that to the group, they had all exchanged looks he couldn’t decipher. Cole in particular had looked at him so strangely, and kept tripping over his name, like something was knotted up in his mouth. That was new, too.

But the group’s boat had ferried them westwards to this island—not the mainland Father had once lived on, which was to the east of the lighthouse—and Cole and Morro had disappeared behind the treeline fairly quick, leaving Zane and Pythor behind.

He ambled over to Pythor, careful of the shifting sand beneath his feet. His joints creaked, not particularly happy with the boat trip and the sea air, but they didn’t give out. He poked Pythor’s head, and waited for a response.

Nothing. He poked the white-splattered scales again, and Pythor grumbled. Violet eyes opened barely a crack, squinting blearily up at him. “Oh, what do you want now?” Pythor demanded, rolling his tail over slightly. “I can’t entertain you all day, you know—these tired old bones need their rest.”

Zane considered his words, mulling them over. Pythor’s eyes slipped closed, a low hiss escaping his mouth like a sigh, and Zane spoke.

“Does my name bother you?” Well, Pythor had seemed more surprised than bothered, but he surely knew Cole better than Zane did, and would be able to remedy any confusion.

Pythor’s eyes opened again. “What?”

“Does my name bother you?” Zane repeated, like he would for when Father didn’t quite hear him, or forgot the question. Then, after a moment, he started to elaborate, “When I introduced myself, you all looked at me funny—”

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time.” Pythor held up a hand. He hmmed, his head lifting up to regard Zane more closely. “As for your question… not particularly.” He answered, lazily waving his hand. “I find it more ironic, maybe even amusing.” His head fell back to the rock, his eyes starting to close—

“Does my name bother Morro?” Zane asked, no less confused than before. “And why do you find my name ‘ironic’?”

Pythor stared at him reproachfully. “My, you ask a lot of questions.”

“It is part of my purpose, so that I can help aid Father’s memory.” Zane stated. “Does my name—”

“I wouldn’t know.” Pythor shrugged, cutting Zane off. “You’d have to ask the boy yourself.” He sat up a bit, readjusting to bring his tail around in front of him so that he could rest his neck upon the coil. “As for why your name is ironic—well, it really only makes it clear that you’re a copy.”

“I do not understand.”

Pythor chuckled lowly. “I imagine you wouldn’t.” He yawned, then spoke again. “Tell me, did this Father of yours ever mention any other… children, of his? Other creations, other sons?” He sounded lightly amused, though Zane wasn’t sure why.

Zane took a moment to think over his answer. “He would often tell me of his time on the mainland,” he started, “but he never mentioned any other sons. Why?” Well, no, Father had once mentioned having a son, but always brushed it off or insisted that Zane was his son, his only son.

Pythor grinned. It was slightly unsettling. “You really don’t know?” He reared up, neck twisting to bring his head closer to Zane’s. “You’re not the original Zane.” He crowed, looking Zane up and down, “You’re clearly just the copy cobbled together from scraps.” At once, his pleased demeanor vanished, replaced with something more sympathetic. “I imagine your Father must have been lonely, in that lighthouse. No wonder he rebuilt the son he loved so much.”

Now it was Zane’s turn to be perplexed. Thrown, even. “What…?”

Pythor reached over, patting Zane’s shoulder. “I’ve met him, you know. The first Zane. Fought him, even.” His eyes slipped closed in remembrance, “Ohhh, it was certainly a time. You know, I didn’t even know he was a nindroid until… hmm… I suppose it must have been sometime after being swallowed by the Great Devourer.”

“Nindroid?” Zane asked, feeling incredibly lost. Then, discarding the term as unimportant—“What do you mean, anoth—an original Zane? I’m Zane.”

Pythor hmmed, tapping his claws against Zane’s shoulder. “A copy.” He declared. “Made of scrap and abandoned when the original came along—”

Zane punched out, knocking himself over. Sand caught in the cracks and seams of his back as he got back up, and Pythor stared at him.

Zane decided he didn’t like the serpent. He opened his mouth—to say what, he didn’t even know—

“What the fuck are you doing, you old bag of scales?” And there was Cole and Morro, slightly muddy from their trek, coming out of the treeline. “You said you would watch the boat!”

Pythor pointed out to shore. “Well, it’s not like it’s gone… any… where…” He trailed off as he realized what Cole and Morro had already noticed: the boat was gone, the tide higher than it had been when they arrived. “Hm.” Pythor looked at Cole, then shrugged. “Well, it’s not my fault you didn’t haul it in far enough—”

“Pythor is a liar.” Zane stated, uncaring of the current conversation. “He’s been saying that I’m—that there’s—he says there’s another Zane!”

At once, Cole froze, eyes wide. Morro shuffled off to the side, and Pythor laid his head back down on the rock. “I—” Cole started, jaw working, then, “I’m sorry.”

That… no. No no no, why was Cole acting like Pythor was right—

“You… knew?” Zane asked. The world seemed to tilt, but that didn’t make sense—his body hadn’t moved at all, and was still standing perpendicular to the ground.

“Why, of course!” Pythor interjected, “He and Zane are—or were, I suppose—the best of friends! Brothers, even.”

“Pythor.” Cole growled, “shut up.” He turned back to Zane. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to say it—”

“To say what? That I’m just the replacement?” Zane demanded. Then, against his better judgment, he asked, “What is the other me like? Is he…” So many different questions flashed through his processors, and he settled on, “Is he better than me?”

“Absolutely not,” Morro cut in, from somewhere behind Zane. “Look, as someone who’s older than Pythor, and thus wiser—”

“You are not older than me!” Pythor argued, only to snap his mouth shut when Cole gave him a look.

“—take it from me.” Morro continued, “You’re not him.” He looked Zane up and down. “Pythor’s full of it.” He added, and Zane opened his mouth to ask what Pythor was supposedly full of—

“You are like him.” Cole said, the look in his eyes similar to Father’s eyes when he reminisced about the mainland. “But you’re also different.”

“You mean worse.” Zane accused.

Cole shook his head. “No,” he said, voice hard, “You’re… you, and that’s not a bad thing.” He sighed. “None of us knew.” He said. “When we found Professor Julien at the lighthouse, he never mentioned—” He cut himself off, looking at Zane with something an awful lot like sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“You… were there?” Cole had been in the group that had taken Father away, that had left Zane behind—

“Yeah, yeah, so Rusty here was made because Snowball’s dad was lonely, whatever.” Morro slung his arm over Zane’s shoulders. “You’re not gonna be stuck in Snowball’s shadow, okay?” He nodded, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Zane shrugged Morro’s arm off of his shoulders. “I don’t want—I just—don’t call me rusty.” It was true, he was rusted at parts, thanks to the sea air, but—it felt like an insult. He bet the other Zane wasn’t rusty.

Wait. “The other Zane…” Zane started, “Is he mechanical?” Or was he flesh and blood, like Father, and Zane was simply made in his image?

“He was just as mechanical as you even before he blew himself up.” Pythor answered. Cole glared at him, and he raised his hands in surrender. “All right, shutting up now.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Cole groused. “He’s him, and you’re you. Neither of you is better than the other.” He turned to where the boat had been, and changed the subject. “Well, we’re stuck here until we build a raft. Do we start right away, or do we wanna continue,” He gestured towards Zane, “figuring this out?”

Zane would have crossed his arms if his joints allowed it. Truthfully, he didn’t exactly want to go out to sea again so soon—but he wanted to think about this new revelation even less. He was angry—but at what, he wasn’t sure.

“Well, if I can’t call you Rusty,” Morro started, “How about Copper?”

“Too close to cop.” Pythor shot it down. “Why not Echo? Since he’s a copy, and all.”

“Absolutely not.” Cole cut in, then turned to Zane. “What do you want to be called?”

Zane had no idea. “My name is Zane.” He stated. “I’ve never had another.” He frowned. “But I don’t want to just be… his copy.” His name was Zane, but that name bothered Cole—and was starting to feel weird, to Zane.

“It won’t be replacing your name.” Cole said softly. “It’ll just be a nickname. Like Breezy.” He gestured at Morro, who huffed.

“Or Dirtclod,” Morro added, gesturing to Cole.

“I… I think I would like a nickname.” Zane agreed. He didn’t want to give up his name, the one that Father had given him—

(“Zane is my son,” He’d say, though now Zane wondered if Father had only been talking about the other Zane—)

—But he didn’t want to be called by it until he met the other Zane, and convinced him to take another name. If this other Zane was so great, he could surely bear to part with his name. Of course, that plan necessitated meeting him, which… Zane wasn’t sure he wanted to do.

“I don’t know what, though.” Zane added. How was he supposed to pick a nickname?

“Gold, maybe.” Morro suggested. “Because you’re not gonna be second best to that goody-two-shoes.”

“Why not Pyrite?” Pythor suggested. “It sounds similar to pyro, setting you apart from him and his ice powers.”

“His… what?” Ice powers? Like the way Morro had bent the wind to his control to power their boat’s sail?

“We are not naming him for fool’s gold—” Cole interjected—

“Lux, since he grew up in a lighthouse.” Morro suggested.

“I—” Zane started, as they continued listing potential names.

“Junior, he’s the younger Za—” Pythor suggested, as Cole grabbed him by the neck. “Ack—!”

“Cole, you’re the mineral nerd, is there another word for gold?” Morro asked.

Cole, still holding Pythor’s neck, rattled off several words, ignoring the way Pythor was hissing at him. “Uhh, aurum, I think, oro, kin—”

“STOP!” Zane yelled, bringing everything to a screeching halt. “Please, just—let me think.”

They stopped. Cole let go of Pythor’s neck, and Morro scuffed his shoes on the sand.

“I think… I want to be called Echo.” He said. “Not because I am a copy, but because… I was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I was built to remember the things that Father could not.” He had been alone in that lighthouse but for Tai-D for so long, slowly rusting apart as he waited for something to change. “Nobody should be alone.” He decided. “So I will be the echo that reminds them they are not.”

“Okay.” Cole agreed. “Echo it is, then.”

Echo nodded. Echo. Echo. He liked the way that sounded. He was still Zane, of course, but now he was also Echo.

Pythor grinned, quite pleased with himself. “Let it be known that I suggested that name—” He started—

“Let it be known that you lost our boat.” Morro interjected. “Of course, it’s what we get for entrusting it with someone too young to handle the responsibility—”

Echo watched as Pythor and Morro launched into a full argument, Pythor lunging at Morro and the two of them starting to tumble around in the sand. It wasn’t quite the same as how they had bickered on the boat ride here—in fact, it was much louder.

Cole watched them fight for a moment, then sighed heavily. He turned to Echo. “Let’s get started on that raft.” He suggested. “While they get sand up their asses.” He added drily. “Does that sound good, Echo?”

Echo nodded. He had never built a raft before! “Yes, let us. You will have to show me how.”

A gust of wind-blasted sand hit the spot where Echo was moments before, and Cole, holding Echo in the air as though he weighed very little, walked back several paces. “Oh.” Echo commented, as Cole set him down out of the blast zone. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Cole mumbled, already moving towards the trees. Echo trailed after him, eager to see how building a raft worked.

He was out of the lighthouse, and ready to see the world Father had described to him. There was so much he still didn’t know—and someone he wished he’d never learned about, and did not want to think about right now—

But he would make it work. He was no longer alone, after all.

[transmechanicus]

Really fucked up that two ppl can care about each other and make their best efforts to communicate and still end up hurting each other so badly they cannot stand to be in the same room.

[overdueforarevival]

Whumptober Day 14 - Addicted To The Not Knowing

Left For Dead | ''cause I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted'

Summary: Ezra Bridger's parents go missing when he is seven years old. There are many things he doesn't know, some things he'll teach himself, others his family will teach him and a few things will have to wait a little while longer.

Also posted to AO3 and based on my tumblr post from a few weeks ago :0

Ezra Bridger doesn’t know a lot of things. He knows that his parents are gone and his home has been cordoned off by the local authority, blocking him from going back. He knows that he’s hungry and cold and he knows that his Mom and Dad always always said to go to Tseebo if anything ever happened to them.

Well, something happened and Tseebo is nowhere to be found. Ezra doesn’t know where to go or what to do, but he does know that it’s almost night and he wants to sleep. So he settles down outside his house, unable to get inside but refusing to leave, and pulls his jacket closer around his body, desperate to conserve some kind of warmth.

He’s kicked awake when it’s still dark out by a beefy man with a bushy mustache telling him to move along and find somewhere else to sleep. Ezra doesn’t know where else to go, so he wanders around the city until dawn comes and then he returns to his street and stands on the corner.

Mr Ishlay goes for his morning walk early in the morning, every morning. He’s an elderly man, one that’s been on the planet probably longer than anyone else, although Ezra’s mother once told him it was rude to say that. He’s not sure why. Mr Ishlay doesn’t walk too well anymore, always leaning on his walking cane but every time Ezra asks why he still walks if it hurts, he says that it’s good for his bones. Ever morning, he’s the first person out the door so Ezra waits for him and when he finally appears, Ezra surges forward.

‘Excuse me, Mister?’ he calls out. The man always smiles when he greets him, a fond look, the kind that old people always give young children. Today, all Ezra gets is wide eyes and a shifty look.

‘What do you want?’ he snaps harshly. Ezra skids to a stop a few paces behind him, staring at his back in disbelief. Confidence thoroughly dashed, Ezra glances around, wondering if someone is going to jump out and announce this all to be an awful joke.

‘I- I was wondering if you knew where my parents are,’ Ezra asks nervously. He gets that same nervous look again, followed by a scowl that has the boy taking another step back.

‘How would I know? Find your own damn parents,’ he sneers and then marches off, cane tapping loudly on the pavement as he fades into the distance.

Maybe he’s just having a bad morning, everyone gets grumpy sometimes. Ezra’s father gets grumpy after work sometimes, but he always apologises afterwards and promises to play Ezra’s favourite games on his day off.

Mrs Onglo is the next one out this morning, watering the flowers outside her house and Ezra skips up to her, twisting his fingers together nervously. This is the lady who always babysits him when his parents are busy, she’s teaching him how to draw and always says that he’s going to be a famous artist one day. She sells artwork in the market and promises that one day she’ll sell his art as well.

‘Hi Mrs Onglo!’ Ezra says cheerfully, waving happily at her. She glances up at him and then quickly looks back down at her garden. ‘Have you seen my parents? They weren’t there when I got home from school yesterday,’

Still, the woman doesn’t answer. Perhaps she’s going deaf, Ezra knows that old people do that sometimes. Dad always jokes that Mom’s going deaf.

‘Mrs Onglo!’ Ezra calls louder, still no answer. Before Ezra can say anything else, she slams down her watering can and runs inside, slamming the door shut behind herself.

Ezra doesn’t understand what’s happening, but decides that maybe his teachers can help him. Teachers have the answers to everything, so he joins the gaggle of children making their way to the school gates. The other parents give him weird looks, probably because they’ve never seen him walk on his own before. Ezra’s older now, though, he knows how to walk to school by himself, he doesn’t need his parents to do that.

He’d quite like them to be here for one last hug before he walks through the gates, though.

However, he doesn’t manage to get through the gates at all. A tall woman, the head teacher, stands in front of him and Ezra nearly bumps right into her legs. She scowls down at him.

‘You no longer attend this school. Do you hear me?’ she snaps angrily, glaring down at him. Ezra stumbles backwards. ‘I don’t ever want to see you near here again. Now scram!’

Ezra doesn’t like the scary look in her eye, the glint of the sun on the lens of her glasses. She doesn’t need to tell him twice; he’s sprinting across the street before he knows it.

Ezra Bridger doesn’t know what’s happening, why nobody will talk to him or where his parents are. But he learns how to survive. He learns how to find the most edible food in the big bins around the back of the shops, he learns the safest alleyways to sleep in and the best lake for a quick bath. Ezra learns to pickpocket and shoplift and Ezra learns that nobody knows his name anymore. They just call him ‘loth-rat’, but even the other street kids won’t speak to him.

Some days Ezra reckons he’s gone invisible and nobody can see him anymore. They all walk past him in the street, even when he’s freezing and hungry, begging for a few credits to help him out. Even when he’s crying and pleading for someone to let him inside to warm up, just for a few minutes. He’d kill to be inside for a few minutes.

But nobody listens, and Ezra doesn’t know why. They’ve left him for dead, to rot on the streets of Lothal, forever wondering why the world stopped and yet everyone else keeps moving.

Eventually, Ezra stops caring about the ‘why’s of the world and focuses more on the ‘how’s. How to survive, how to get more food, how to slip past the bigger kids without being noticed. How to make it through one more winter, one more freezing night on the street.

Ezra gets by just fine with not knowing, in fact he quite likes it. He likes to know that he knows nothing, not how to read or how to speak proper like everyone else, but he gets by just fine. He’s got it all sorted out, a tower to live in and food stored in a cupboard. There’s no need for answers when Ezra is doing just fine on his own.

And then come along the Ghost crew and Ezra thinks he fits in quite nicely, a ghost living on the Ghost. He has three square meals a day, a blanket to sleep under and Hera even buys new clothes. She can be a bit strict sometimes, she makes him shower every day and insists he wash his hair with shampoo twice a week minimum. He uses the same shampoo that Kanan uses and now he always smells like the man too.

Kanan teaches him things, gives him answers to questions that he didn’t know existed. Things start to make sense and Ezra only now realises how little he understood about himself. About the weird feelings he gets, about how he always knows when a fist is about to come flying at his face. Everything is falling into place.

Zeb and Sabine make fun of him sometimes, just for how he does things. He’s not sure why they think it’s so weird that he eats so fast. Don’t they know how easy it is for someone else to steal your food away? They frown at him when he admits that he doesn’t know how to read, Zeb asks why his school never taught him and then Hera calls him away quickly.

Everyone starts reading with him after that, teaching him the letters of the alphabet and what they look like, how to draw them. Ezra tries not to feel too put on the spot. He supposes they’re just trying to be nice, but Ezra’s never needed to read before, he’ll get by just fine without knowing a little longer. They all seem to enjoy it, though, so he lets them teach him and soon enough he’s racing Hera to finish odd books Kanan finds on the holoweb for them.

It takes a while, but Ezra gets used to the casual ‘love you’s that get thrown about the ship every night when he turns in. The first time, he freezes when Hera shouts it down the hall and promptly bolts to his room. The last time he heard that phrase was the morning his parents died. In a year, he’s gone from nobody daring to speak to him to having those words called to him like it’s natural. Of course, Ezra understands now that nobody spoke to him out of fear of the Empire. But still, it doesn’t make sense for Hera to be saying this.

But then Kanan starts saying it too and now Ezra really doesn’t know what to do. But they never stop, in fact it begins to replace any form of ‘goodbye’ and Ezra quite likes it. He doesn’t say it back.

He’s not sure why he doesn’t say it back, he tries a few times, braces himself and spends an hour mustering up the courage but as soon as he sees Hera cooking dinner in the galley, he freezes. In the end, he chops the vegetables for her.

Somewhere along the line, he’s found a family and he’s not quite sure where it came from but he certainly enjoys it. The casual banter and bizarre inside jokes. Knowing that there’s always someone who will have his back, that they’ll never ignore him and never pretend he doesn’t exist makes it easier to go to sleep. He’ll never wake up in the cold again, never wake up alone, wondering why everybody hates him all of a sudden.

And then Kanan makes an awful decision. Ezra should have seen this coming, should have known this was his plan all along but the thought never crossed his mind. In all of these battles they’ve fought, all the missions they’ve been on, hell even after all the nightmares he’s had about it, it never once crossed Ezra’s mind that Kanan might die.

He doesn’t look scared when it happens, in fact he looks perfectly at peace. He smiles at Hera as he pushes her away and lets the flames consume him. It’s almost as though he thought they’d be okay without him. Ezra doesn’t know where he could have gotten such a preposterous notion from. They are not okay without him.

Every night, he can hear Sabine sniffling through the wall that separates their bunks, Zeb is grumpier than ever and even Chopper seems more dull. There’s less spontaneous electrocution which Ezra supposes he should be grateful for, yet part of him misses it.

And then there’s Hera. He knows how hard she’s trying to hard to hide it, but he can feel every emotion lying behind her facade of coping. Ezra doesn’t know why Kanan would do this, why he would hurt Hera like this and why he’d leave him. Ezra doesn’t know enough about the Force yet, about being a Jedi to become half the man that Kanan was. Ezra doesn’t know what to do without his Master.

Now it falls to Ezra to make these decisions and he doesn’t know which is the right one. He guesses and guesses, hopes and prays, begs and pleads for guidance. In the end, he still doesn’t know that to do. But if there’s one thing he learned from being on the streets is that if you act confident enough, nobody will second guess you.

So he makes the damn video and tells Sabine that he’s counting on her. He says his goodbyes and still can’t tell them how much he loves them. He doesn’t know why, when it matters more than ever, he can’t tell them something so simple.

Ezra doesn’t know why he wants to backtrack, to jump off of Thrawn’s ship and hope Hera will see him and catch him. Ezra doesn’t know where he’s going to end up or if this is even going to work. Kanan would have a better idea. Kanan should be here.

But he isn’t and Ezra doesn’t want to hate him for it, but a part of him is really pissed off. No matter how at peace he tries to be, no matter how hard he tries to accept that Kanan is never coming back, he just wants the man to walk up the ramp to their ship one more time.

Now neither of them will.

Ezra doesn’t know where he is, on this strange planet with no intelligent life forms for miles other than the one man who ruined Ezra’s life just when it was starting to look up again. But it’s okay, because Sabine will come for him and Ezra just has to hold out until she finds him. Surely, it can’t take that long.

So he sets up camp and reminds himself of how to keep warm when sleeping out in the elements. He got quite good at it once upon a time, so he knows how to do it now. He doesn’t know what plants are safe to eat or what animals to hunt for dinner, but he learns through trial and error.

Thrawn is doing something, he can feel the Grand Admiral’s presence on the planet, plotting and planning while Ezra waits. It doesn’t matter that Ezra doesn’t know, because he’ll never be able to get off this planet, wherever they are. His venator was destroyed by the Purgill.

Ezra doesn’t know why it’s taking Sabine so long to come find him, doesn’t know why he’s still here in the freezing cold. In all the spare time he now finds himself with, Ezra tries to teach himself more, to learn about the Force and become stronger. He misses having a teacher to guide him, misses having Kanan telling him what to do and how to be.

Every day he wishes he’d learned just a bit more, just asked a few more questions while he was alive. If he’d just trained harder, perhaps he’d have been good enough to save Kanan. Selfishly, he wonders if, had Kanan been alive, Ezra could have stayed home.

Ezra doesn’t know a lot, but he does know that everything he’s learned came from the smartest people alive. And those smart people are going to find him one day. Until then, Ezra will stay here with the Noti, haunted by ghosts of his past, wondering if anyone will ever know how it feels, if he’ll ever be able to tell them. For now, he has no choice but to wait and float in this not knowing, forever waiting for his family to bring him home.

[mad-hunts]

have i ever talked about how barton is genuinely jealous of people who seem happy because he feels so hollow a majority of the time that even when he's 'happy,' he's not really happy? because i just 😭 yeah...

[ramsaybaggins]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet Characters: Stede Bonnet, Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Edward Bonnet | Stede Bonnet's Father Additional Tags: Whumptober 2024, Stede Bonnet Whump, HEAVY WHUMP, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Shooting, Hunting, parental violence, Blood, Injury, First Meetings, Getting Together, Left for Dead, Blackmail, Rescuer Edward Teach, Mention of Roach, Happy Ending Series: Part 14 of Whumptober 2024 Summary:

Louis was five now. Stede cringed at the thought that in a few short years, he would be expected to come out on the Annual Bonnet Men's Hunting Trip. Stede's least favourite day of the year. In fact, he dreaded it for a solid six months every single time.

Whumptober 2024 day 14: LEFT FOR DEAD | Hunting gear | Blackmail | "Cause I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted"

[no1ryomafan]

I don’t know what the release status will be of my Komyoji and Saotome family essay since a lot of people still need to read it-plus if I do another long form post on here it should be another damn lyric analysis on deep red or burn the run cause I’m slacking 💀-before I can really finalize it but one thing I do have to spoil about it is I’m low key sad after seeing how Mitsuko was handled that New Michiru feels less like a improvement of her character and just “she’s different because she felt like it ig??”

I don’t wanna downplay New Michiru as is she still the first iteration since toei of her to be an actual character? Absolutely, but I feel selling her as the best iteration is a little much when the writers didn’t use her enough in the story since she still is JUST a supporting character who doesn’t really get a character arc and also her personality being changed doesn’t really give her any benefits. Like don’t get me wrong Michiru being mean is FUN, but it feels like it was only done to give her more of a personality then uwu nice girl even though Mitsuko demonstrates you can still make that archetype compelling. But ultimately her being meaner also serves her from being less forgettable cause otherwise she barely needs to be in this story, like you can sadly take her out of New and not a whole lot would actually change.

…New Getter still peak tho.

[copics-and-renegades]

Whumptober 2024 Day 14: "I wear my camo to your favourite club, 'cause I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted and helpless with no control."

tfw your boyfriend's BIL does NOT approve

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I just like to imagine Mithos a) does not approve of Yuan being with his sister but also b) does ABSOLUTELY NOT approve of Yuan being with literally anybody else, be it in any scenario where he's not with Martel anymore OR a poly relationship Martel is explicitly in favour of. ("Martel, it's Adam and EVE, not Eve and Whatever Debauchery These Two Degenerates Have Going On! D:")

Sorry it took so long to upload everything.

[sushimango]

Day 14 of Whumptober!

It's Sam again - the one character you should never trust.

She's having fun

[medicinemane]

At least I could disable the suggestions but just... I'm sick of it, I'm sick of companies trying to think for me

I'd rather be miserable but doing shit my own way than placid and glass eyed and just taking whatever companies tell me to

Like... literally just asking what I get out of writing a post on tumblr... zero suggestions, just letting me say whatever dumb stuff comes to my head

[theotherrichardpapen]

nigel & alex - to be haunted by your love

henri nouwen // like minds (2006) // death - melanie martinez // pope alexander - crywank // her mother's kiss - eugene carriere // sometimes i fall asleep thinking about you - catarine hancock // the song of achilles - madeline miller // achilles lamenting the death of patroclus - gavin hamilton // lee martens

[philosophicallie]

my vitriolic hate for the parentals only grows btw. everything i overhear is in fact a big fat negative in our relationship

[darklight-owl]

*walks out of a social situation covered in blood* hey guys i think i MIGHT be autistic

[pergaias]

here with a psa that any song can be about the inherent tragedy of old friends if you’re delusional enough about it