#(I’m catching up on episodes I’ve fallen behind)

[earl-grey-crow]

what a strange soul! I think I like carmody

[julymusings]

Jason is the type of person to put on some shitty romance movie only for his date to fall asleep and for him to get strangely invested.

are you still watching?

i saddle up my horse and I ride into the city. i make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty. riding up and down broadway on my old stud leroy, and the girls say...

or; 3 times Jason Todd gets hooked on your television choices [3.7k]

jason todd x fem!reader; this is so real...and so clever!!! i LOVE the concept. i did get a little carried away and lost the plot unforch...pt3 is just a sex dream ab cowboy!jason so. also I apologize for taking forever to respond. tw...klance mentioned💀 & suggestive but not explicit. and i do bash on voltron in pt2 a little but it's all in good fun🫶i did my time with them divider

i.

“Baby, I love you, but if you don’t pick something soon I’ll call Dick in here to entertain us with his backflips.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you huff. Though as you scroll, once again, through all the options on Netflix, you fear his threat may be serious.

You reach the bottom of the page, having found nothing. You peek at Jason from the corner of your eye and hover the cursor over the ‘Back to Top’ button.

“No.” He reaches to grab the laptop from you, but his injuries hinder his usual swiftness. You shriek in objection and roll away to the other side of the bed, computer held tight in your clutches.

“Babe.” He groans. He tries to reach across the bed to you, but his grasp falls short by mere centimeters as you frantically begin another scan of the site.

“I will find something, I promise!” You say. “Just one more minute!”

He rolls his eyes. “You said that ten minutes ago. And I’m the one who’s injured, shouldn’t I get to pick?”

You spare him a glance, pondering over his wrapped foot elevated on a pillow, and the bandages around his torso. His arm has fallen flat on his bed, having given up on its attempt to catch you. That alone should guilt you into saying yes; his childhood bed is just shy of too small for his adult self, so being unable to reach the other end speaks to the severity of his pain. And to add salt to the wound, you know he isn’t exactly fond of staying at his father’s house, but he is in no shape to recuperate alone.

“I would say yes, but you don’t know any good shows! All you watch is Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.”

He scoffs. “I thought you liked that show!”

You scoff back, imitating him. “I did. But a person can only stand so much of Guy Fieri talking with his mouth full.”

He quiets, probably searching for a rebuttal, but you can’t imagine he’ll find any. You use the opportunity to resume your search unimpeded. 

After a few minutes, you perk up. “Ooh, they added New Girl on Netflix!” You scoot back over on the bed to his side, satisfied with your choice.

“What is that?” Jason asks.

You whip your head to him. “You don’t know New Girl?”

He pushes a stray hair behind your ear, eyes narrowed. “Should I?”

Your eyes flit to the computer screen, then back to him, and you sigh. “No, I guess not.”

You’re about to press play on the first episode but stop yourself. “Do you want to choose? You’re already hurting enough, I don’t want to torture you with this too. Besides, I’ve seen it, like, a million times anyway.”

“No, it’s okay.” He turns the computer towards him and presses play. “I don’t need any of my siblings barging in and catching me enjoying Guy Fieri. I’d never hear the end of it.”

You titter at his remark and set your laptop in the middle of you, a little farther away so you don’t have to crane your neck to see the screen. He lifts his arm to drape it around you but struggles with raising it past shoulder level. You meet him halfway by ducking underneath his arm and settling it over your shoulders. He kisses the top of your head in thanks.

Leaning against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing is too hypnotic for you to focus. Paired with the warmth of his skin, bare so as not to obstruct access to his wound dressings, you are quickly lulled to sleep.

It must be several hours later when movement against you disturbs you from sleep. The room is almost pitch black, save for the dim glow of the computer, still on and resting on your legs a few feet away. The air is thick with late-night silence, and fighting against the heaviness of your eyelids is so laborious that you have to use your hand to pry them open. Jason is squirming next to you, hand outstretched, low huffs of pain slipping from his mouth.

A shot of adrenaline courses through you and you stumble into action.

“What happened? What hurts?” The laptop tips off your legs and falls to the bed, landing on its side as you scramble to your knees and face him. “Should I get someone?”

“What? No, I— I’m fine, why?” He squints at you through the darkness.

“You—” Your throat catches and you take a deep, steadying breath. “It sounded like you were in pain.”

“No, honey, I’m fine. It’s okay. You can go back to sleep.” Jason takes your wrist and gently pulls you back into his side. You don’t budge.

“Then why were you moving?” You scan him for any signs of a worsening injury. Downplaying his own pain is not something you can put past him, unfortunately.

“I…” His eyes look past you for a quick second. He swallows. “I wasn’t,” he says, unconvincingly.

You narrow your eyes at him, then turn around to see what he is looking at, despite his (false) reassurances. Your laptop, still on its side, lies awake and open to the Netflix website. You pick it up to get a closer look at the screen. The player has gone dark, and overcast in white lettering; ‘New Girl: Are you still watching?’

You turn back to Jason, dumbfounded. “You risked hurting yourself…for this?”

Now adjusted to the darkness, you can see his cheeks tinged with pink. “No?”

“Jason.”

“You’re the one who put it on!”

You check the clock in the corner of the screen.

“It’s three AM, Jay. You need to sleep if you want your body to heal.” You argue.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” He defends. “I can’t sleep sitting up, and I need help lying down.” he fails to meet your eyes as he says this.

You cross your arms, tilting your face to catch his gaze. “And what am I doing here?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” he mumbles.

You just stare. It takes fifteen seconds for him to break.

“Fine. I was enjoying the show. I wanted to keep watching. Happy?” He punctuates his statement with a shrug but groans through a clenched jaw, remembering the injuries to his upper body.

“Okay, just—” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “It’s too late for this. Can we please go to sleep?” You don’t wait for an answer, shutting the laptop and placing it on the bedside table.

He leans off the headboard so you can help him shift his body down the bed and lie flat, and you lie down next to him.

“Comfy?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Need anything?”

“No.”

“Okay. Goodnight,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jason says quietly.

You snuggle into his side. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but you can tell by his breathing pattern that he’s still awake. He whispers your name into the darkness, hoping you’re still awake.

“Yes, honey?” You answer.

There is a beat of silence. Then, “When do Nick and Jess get together?”

“Go to sleep.”

ii.

Jason leans against the kitchen counter behind him, hands in his pockets, as he watches the microwave dish spin in a slow circle. It whirs under the yellow lightbulb, the flat paper packet puffing up among raucous popping. With sixty seconds left to kill, he searches the cabinets for a large enough bowl to fit the family-size packet of popcorn, as well as the various add-ons you adore.

The first time you invited Jason over for a movie night, in the beginning stages of your relationship, he looked on in wonder as you combined the grocery store’s entire snack aisle into one salty, sugary, buttery abomination in a jumbo Hello Kitty bowl.

“How do you even come up with something like this?” He had asked, ripping open the bag of pretzels as you emptied the fresh batch of popcorn into the bowl.

“Wait!” You stopped him just before he could pour the pretzels in. “Sugary stuff first. While it’s still hot. Then it gets all melty and good.” You dumped an entire bag of mini marshmallows, caramels, and M&M’s in, and gave it a few stirs. “And to answer your question, I was in high school and experiencing intense munchies.”

You gave him the OK to add the pretzels, so he did. “I envy your dentist,” he said, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Now, with plenty more movie nights under his belt, you trusted him enough to assemble your party mix on his own while you select something to watch.

The microwave beeps. As he rips open the popcorn bag, you yell from the living room.

“Hey, what about The Bourne Identity?” You call out. “Have you—? Wait.” You cut yourself off.

“What’s it about?” He yells back. You don’t answer. “Babe?” He calls again.

“Never mind! I’m gonna keep looking!”

He adds the sugary snacks first, stirring them until they melt, just how you like it. He’s tearing into the bag of pretzels when he hears you shriek.

He drops the bag and bolts to the living room, pretzels scattering all over the counter and floor.

“What happened?” His eyes bounce around the entire room, scanning for any threat.

He’s unsure what he expected to find, but it was a tad more perilous than you simply sitting on the couch, staring open-mouthed at the TV.

“Uh…nothing. Sorry.” Your face flushes. The remote is still raised and pointed at the screen.

“Vol…tron?” Jason reads from the title sequence that plays in the preview window. “Is this some kind of anime?”

“No…sort of, maybe,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. I'm just surprised to see it is all. I loved this show when I was younger.”

“Is it any good?” He asks.

You look to the side, thinking about it. You settle on: “Define good.”

His forehead wrinkles, mouth falling slightly open. “Did you…enjoy watching it?”

“Define enjoy.”

“Okay, forget I asked.” He sighs and goes back to the kitchen.

When he returns a few minutes later, floor pretzels in the trash and counter pretzels swept into the bowl, you’re already watching the first episode.

“This your choice?” He asks. You take the bowl in your lap and he settles down next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Definitely not. Just wanted to reminisce until you got back.” You frown at the bowl. “Where are all the pretzels?”

He chuckles. “That’s what you get for screaming. Dropped ‘em on the floor.”

You pout. “I didn’t scream. I was surprised. Now the ratio’s off, there’s not enough saltiness to balance the sweetness.”

“Poor baby,” he croons sarcastically. “Only getting a quarter bag of pretzels ‘stead of a full.”

You were going to switch the television to a movie you both liked, but you spent the entire first episode bickering about the important role each ingredient plays in, what you call, “The Party Mix Experience”. The next episode auto-played on its own, and you let it.

During the second episode, you and Jason were absorbed in a competition to see who could catch more flying popcorn pieces in their mouth (Jason), which then devolved into seeing who could dodge more popcorn kernels thrown to the face (also Jason).

By the beginning of episode three, you settled into meaningless chatter while paying half-hearted attention to the TV screen, and by the end, you were laid out on the couch, head in Jason’s lap, while you scrolled on your phone and he stroked your hair. You drifted to a light sleep, coaxed by his fingers scratching at your scalp. 

When you wake from your nap, there’s a blanket draped over you and Jason’s hand is still settled in your hair. You push yourself up to sit beside him, speaking through a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”

Jason adjusts the blanket so it covers both of you. “Um…I dunno. Three episodes, maybe.”

“You’re still watching,” you remark, as the end credits for episode six begin to roll.

He says nothing. You both stare as the auto-play timer for the next episode counts down. Next to the remote, his fingers twitch.

You purse your lips, suppressing a grin. “You know, there’s quite an online community for people who like this show.”

“Ha. Were you part of it?” He muses.

“Yup. And I deserve a medal of valor for my time in those trenches.” You kiss his cheek and stand up, stretching your arms. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says. His voice is low and gravelly with weariness.

You turn toward the bedroom when a call of your name stops you.

“Is it just me, or is something goin’ on between the red guy and the blue guy?”

“Oh, honey,” you sigh. It’s loud and pitying. You bend down to cup his cheek and draw him in for a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Babe!” He yells after you as you disappear into the bedroom. “You didn’t answer my question!”

iii.

It’s only a Hallmark movie, but with how he’s reacting, it might as well be six hours of paint drying. Jason is not eager to spend his night watching some boring, formulaic cliché, but it's late and you don't have anything better to do.

“That is absolutely not true,” he says when you counter his protests with this excuse.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Jay. Is there anything else to do, except sleep?” You rub your tired eyes. Both of you could use some sleep but, burrowed as you are under a pile of blankets, moving all the way from the couch to the bed seems impossible.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear. “I can think of a few things.”

His warm breath tickles your neck, and you feel a shiver despite the heat you’ve conserved in your little blanket burrito. The faintest of kisses is pressed behind your ear, and his eyes glint with familiar mischief when he pulls back.

You brush him off, rolling your eyes in amusement. “Do any of those things involve flannel-wearing farmer hunks or the True Meaning of Christmas?”

Turning back to the television, you take the remote from his hands, catching the tail end of a disgruntled mumble about how ‘I can buy a flannel…’

He grumbles a few more complaints during the movie’s first act (‘he’s not even that hunky’) before you scold him to silence. Once he’s quieted, and you settle more comfortably into him, your head is nestled securely in the crook of his shoulder with arms wrapped around his bicep. The warmth of him has you fighting against the tempting call of REM. Right around when the independent, successful, businesswoman protagonist discovers the handsome, flannel-clad man who helped repair her car is also the single father who runs an honest family business, you start to drift off, falling asleep amid thoughts of wearing plaid in the countryside.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing in a vast, open field. 

Thump. Thump.

It’s unclear where the sound is coming from, but a splash of red in your periphery stands out. You turn; there’s a barn off in the distance.

Thump.

Your legs carry you in its direction. Growing closer by the second, the thumping sound echoes louder in your ears. When you round the corner of the structure, the front doors are propped wide open by cement blocks, and bales of hay are stacked outside the doors. A large figure, whose back is to you, is lugging a bale by its straps. He hauls it onto his shoulder, and his shirtsleeves tighten around his thick arms. He brings it to the barn, tossing it onto a pile of more hay bales. It lands with that same thump.

When he turns around, it’s in slow motion.

The sleeves of his plaid flannel are rolled up his arms, exposing his large, veiny forearms. Under the flannel, he sports a simple white t-shirt, jeans, and work boots that give him an extra inch of height. His face and chest are shiny with sweat, and his shirt is soaked through. He holds a toothpick between gritted teeth.

It’s Jason. In a cowboy hat.

He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. Its dampness makes it stay slicked back rather than settling into its usual shape where little curls are always falling over his eyes. Then, he sees you. A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. He puts his hat back on and removes the toothpick so he can speak.

“Hey there, little lady,” he drawls lazily, the Gotham accent you’re so accustomed to replaced with a southern twang. It does something to you that you’re a little embarrassed to admit. He looks you up and down, pausing above your knee for a split second before continuing.

“Hi,” you say, averting your gaze from where it had zeroed in on a droplet of sweat running down his neck. Your face burns redder than his beautifully sun-kissed cheeks.

He chuckles. “You jus’ gonna stand there or you gonna lend a hand? Compost ain’t gonna turn itself.”

He easily hauls up another bale, and you follow him into the barn.

You watch as he shirks it onto the pile, then repeats with the remaining few bales. He seems to forget you’re standing there as he gets so absorbed in his work, expression tightening in focus. You lean on the wooden post behind you and soak it in; every sound, every flexed muscle, every display of firm strength has you feeling like the air has been punched out of you. He carries the final bale into the barn and his low grunt as he throws it off his shoulder has a swooning sigh escape you. It catches his attention.

Your chest tightens in embarrassment as he prowls closer. He leans over you, hand against the wooden post right above your head. With him this close, a smattering of freckles is visible over the bridge of his nose, likely due to all the sun exposure. Huffing and sweaty, his eyes drag down your face and stop at your mouth. He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

He lifts his free hand to trace over the thin strap of your top. His fingers ghost over the skin, barely touching. “This is pretty,” he says, voice low. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way out here?”

And you just can’t help it anymore. You lurch up to him, desperate to close the space between you. You kiss him hard, and he kisses you back, his hand rising from your shoulder to grip the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your jaw, and your hands grip the material of his flannel, yanking it down to bring him even closer. You pull him against you so roughly that your head bumps the post behind you from the force. He smirks, teasing, into the kiss as his hand comes to cup the back of your head.

“Easy, sweetheart. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” After getting his fill from your lips, he slowly graces a path to your neck, kissing, licking, and nipping as he goes. His relaxed leisure perfectly juxtaposes your frantic hunger for him.

You grip his face and pull his mouth back to yours, kissing him with even more fervor. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down with little care for gentleness, and tug at the skin. He groans, and it rumbles deep in his throat. You soothe the spot with your tongue, and your eyes roll back into your head at the salty taste of his skin. As his tongue slides between your lips, he removes the hand that’s leaning onto the post and settles it on the skin of your thigh. It drags upward, feeling every inch of skin on his fingertips before disappearing under the hem of your skirt. At the same time, your hands slide down his body. His touch explores higher, and yours slips under his shirt to ground yourself on the hard skin of his abdomen, which has become slick with sweat.

The sound you make is debauched, coming from the deepest recesses of your stomach. He pulls back, wearing a cheeky smile. He opens his mouth to speak and says—

“Wait, what the fuck?”

You jerk awake. Jason is yelling.

“Why would you go with him?” He exclaims at the TV, and then turns to exclaim to you, “Why would she go with him?”

You stare at him, agape, trying to process your surroundings and asking yourself what just happened.

“Shit. Were you asleep?” Jason puts his outrage on hold.

You nod. “Yeah— yes.” Your voice comes out scratchy and hollow. “I was.”

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says. His eyebrows furrow. “Are you hot?”

“What?”

“You look warm.” He presses the back of his hand to your flushed neck. “Is it too many blankets?”

Though his hand is cool, you feel even warmer, the image of his hand gripping that same spot of your neck flashing through your mind.

“I’m…good,” you say. “I think I’ll go to bed.” You dig yourself out of the shell of blankets and stand, but he doesn’t follow.

“Oh.” Jason glances at the TV, which is still in a commercial break. “You— did you want me to come?”

You don’t know what to say.

“The, uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and you have to stifle a gasp. “The guy from her successful city life tracked her down to the small town to get back together. She said yes.” Then he sighs, sounding genuinely distressed. “There’s no way they’d end it like that, right? He was awful to her!”

At this, you crack a smile. “Do you want to finish the movie, Jason?” A hint of satisfaction seeps into your tone.

He clears his throat. “…Maybe.”

You plop back down on the couch with a hum. He interlaces your fingers and kisses the back of your hand before redirecting his attention to the screen.

“Babe?” You ask.

“Hm?” He answers, not looking away from the movie.

“Do you own any flannels?”

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOYYYYYYY

love when u leave messages and feedback it feeds my praise kink

for part one: cut to me sitting up in bed shrugging my shoulders over and over again to see which muscles it uses and if that coincides with the injuries i gave him to see if that action causing him pain makes sense (it was inconclusive so i made his injuries vague oopsie)

for part two: the bourne identity (2002) is a movie about a guy named jason who wakes up not knowing where or who he is and somehow has elite training in combat and surveillance, though he doesn't know where it's from. he runs around functioning on pure instinct to survive while getting bits of his memory back, remembering that whoever he worked for was cutthroat, expected him to obey no matter what, and forget the person he used to be before joining their mission. sound familiar?

for part three: cut to me genuinely tweaking while proofreading bc i let my friend read it and so rereading it, knowing that she read it, was so embarrassing. i was screaming into my pillow & it took 20 minutes to get through 2k words bc i had to keep taking breaks. not an exaggeration

If any of you saw me change the theme of my masterlist 5 times yesterday only to change it back to what it was before…no you didn’t

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

In a Perfect World, You Love Me [i]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: injury, mentions of blood, cursing, derogatory name calling, forced drug exposure, hallucinations, light smut, angst, and some angst, and a little more angst just to top it off (actually this isn’t nearly as heartbreaking as some stuff i’ve written before lol), self doubt, anxiety, also cobb vanth is here. it’s not a warning but i love him so i wanted to mention it.🤷🏻‍♀️

word count: 6,961

Summary: On the way to visit an old friend, you and Mando find trouble. Both of you are subjected to a drug that puts you in your perfect world. But, when you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t, how do you know what to trust?

a/n: bitches be planning out short drabbles about heart break only for it to turn into a long wordy mess. it’s me. i’m bitches. anybody know the show supernatural? it’s a show about like dramatic ass sad brothers who travel the country fighting monsters? (i know you know i’m being sarcastic). i watched that one episode where the djinn puts dean in like a dream world and it inspired this. i wanted to name it ‘din djarin’s djinn dream’ but that seemed a bit too on the nose.

.

“sometimes it is not love that breaks your heart. it is disappointment.”

-r.m. drake

.

Grogu was safe. That was the first thought that came to mind. You were so incredibly grateful that Mando had decided to leave the small child with Peli at the shop. It had been a last minute call. Weirdly, you were also thankful that you hadn’t stayed behind. You nearly did. Traveling through the Dune Sea was an absolutely miserable experience between the heat and the sand. It would have been so much more comfortable to just sit in the shop, cuddle with Grogu, and watch Peli con her customers.

However, when Mando mentioned he was going to Mos Pelgo you jumped at the chance to visit Cobb Vanth. It had been ages since you last saw the man, and you were eager to catch up with the marshal. So you climbed onto Mando’s rented land speeder, wrapped your arms around his beskar armor, and the two of you set off. What was supposed to be a simple day trip to greet an old friend and ask for a favor turned into a Maker forsaken nightmare.

Your face was throbbing in pain, you tasted blood in your mouth, and you were fairly certain your right wrist was broken based on the swelling and discoloration. Despite all of that, despite the pain and fear, the thought occurred to you once more. You were so thankful you were here. 

“How pathetic.” The smuggler cackled amongst his small crew. “You’re going to protect the Mandalorian from us? You dumb bitch.”

Five dangerous men stood at the rim of the pit you were trapped in while Mando laid motionless behind you. There was a bit of blood pooling from out of the bottom of his helmet, onto the sand, and the only comfort you had that Mando was still with you was the slow rise and fall of his chest. 

The smugglers had set a trap that Mando and you had fallen right into. As your land speeder tripped a wire it caused a blast that had both of you falling into a pit. The damned thing was deep enough to leave both of you injured and you prayed that your injuries were worse than Mando’s and he was just out cold for a moment. Your attackers began to argue amongst one another and you stayed on high alert. Mando and you were fish in a barrel. They could rain blaster fire down on you and there would be nothing you could do about it. The only reason you hadn’t grabbed Mando’s blaster to fire up is because you didn’t want to trigger a massacre.

“Shoot her dead then climb down and collect the beskar. Easy.” One smuggler scoffed and pulled out his blaster. You flinched but the loudest of the men, the leader, shoved the blaster’s aim away from you. “What?”

“The moment we try and get off world we’re gonna get stopped by those damned pirates again.” He snapped. “We keep the girl alive and hand her over as the tax we pay to pass free. We keep all the Mandalorian’s armor to ourselves.”

“Who’d want a bitch over beskar?”

“Oh, trust me.” The lead smuggler chuckled and the sound made you cringe. You set your hand in Mando’s gloved one and wished more than anything his grip would tighten around you rather than stay limp. “I know the man running the show right now, and he’s got a weakness for pretty little things.”

You tried to hide the tremble that shook your frame and you whispered for Mando to wake up⏤ for him to hear you. The lead smuggler opened his bag and you grasped Mando’s blaster. As threateningly as you could manage, you barked out. “You come down here and I’ll kill you. You hear me?!”

“Aw, she’s got some bite. Maybe we should keep her instead.”

“Shut the hell up.” The lead snapped and continued to root through his bag. “Where the kriff is that damned spice bomb?” Your eyebrows furrowed. Spice was bad news. It wasn’t something you ever wanted to touch. You had seen what the addiction could do to people, and you had a very bad feeling about what a spice bomb would be. “There it is.”

Panic hit you, and you lifted the blaster to start firing but the leader tossed a glowing red ball down into the pit and the smugglers dove away from the hole. The ball exploded mid way down into a cloud of red dust that rained down on you and Mando. You tried to cover your mouth and nose with the bottom of your shirt, but it was to no avail. Your entire body grew heavy, collapsing on top of Mando’s chest, and a sharp, tingling sensation washed over you before your eyes fell shut.

Din woke with a start⏤ panting and desperate for air. His mind was filled with a heavy fog that he tried to swim through to gather his bearings. There had been a wire. Din noticed it much too late and he remembered the ground swallowing you and him whole. You. Your scream was the last thing he could recall. 

His hands drifted to his face and Din hated that it was only then that he noticed he wasn’t wearing a helmet. He blamed the fog. Din scrambled about the soft bed he realized he was tucked into as he searched the space around him for his armor. Din was in a bedroom he didn’t recognize wearing only a pair of sleep pants. Dank farrik. Din leapt out of bed but stumbled rather than landed with any amount of grace. Where was he? Where were you?? 

He forced himself to take a steadying breath and centered himself. 

The bedroom was small. Only a large bed, a clothing dresser, and two nightstands on either side of the bed. The walls were painted a soft blue, two doors leading out, and one wall had a window that spanned nearly the entire length of the room. Din blinked in confusion. Outside was a bustling city with towering pillar-like buildings and early morning light spilling down through holes in the upper shelf casting light on a city that was very much alive. Din knew where he was. He just didn’t know how he got here or how this was even possible.

“Sundari?” He breathed in shock. Din had only seen images of the cities of Mandalore. Sundari, the domed capital city, being the most infamous of all. This must have been a dream. Exactly how hard had he hit his head in the fall?

Din, in all his distraction, hadn’t even noticed the sound of running water until it stopped. He spun on his heel and stared at the door in the corner which must have led into a fresher. Din wasn’t alone. His hand snapped to his hip for his blaster but met air. Maker, he’d be happy when this concussion finally passed. He scanned the room for any kind of weapon he could use and as he grasped the nightstand drawer he froze. Sitting on top of the small table was a holo image being projected up from a disk as decor.

It was a photo of you and Grogu. Din narrowed his eyes at it in confusion. The two of you were at a park of some kind, but he couldn’t recall where or when this had occurred. The door opened, making Din jump in surprise. Fine, concussion or not, he’d fight his way out by hand. However, as if he couldn’t possibly be caught more off guard, you stepped out of the bathroom wearing only a towel.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” You stepped toward him and Din stayed frozen in place. Your hands came up to run across his bare chest before settling on his waist where you continued to trace your fingertips up and down in a repetitive pattern. There was so much happening at once that Din didn’t even know what to think. It didn’t help that the moment your skin touched his, his mind seemed to short circuit. “I was trying to let you sleep in for at least a little.”

Ever since you had confessed to him weeks ago that you wanted more than just a friendship Din had been plagued with dreams of you. Visions of you moaning under him as he buried himself into your warmth, of you riding his cock while his hands explored your body, of him simply holding you in his arms and memorizing your features unimpeded by his helmet. But never had it ever felt this real. 

“Din?” You tilted your head. Hearing his name from your lips, he shuddered. How was this happening? You staring up at his bare face and whispering his name in concern. 

Din tried to open his mouth and speak, but his voice had left him. When you confessed to him, it had taken every fiber of his being to not react. As much as he cared about you, as badly as he wanted you, he knew it was a bad idea. Din knew he had to draw a line to keep you safe. He was dangerous and Din knew it was selfish of him to keep you and Grogu around despite that. He always figured the two of you would go your separate ways when the jedi were found and Grogu was delivered, but Din would never be able to say good-bye to you if he crossed that line. So he lied. Told you he didn’t feel the same and walked away leaving you teary eyed and broken hearted. 

You frowned. Your eyebrows furrowed and he had the overwhelming urge to smooth out your brow with his fingers. Trace every inch of your face with his hands. “You look sad, love.” You lifted your hands to cup his face. “Did you have that nightmare again?”

“Wh⏤What?” Din’s voice was quiet and ragged.

“We’re safe now. You don’t have to worry.” You caressed his cheek. “Me, you, and Grogu. We’re all safe. We have a home. Our days of running are over.”

Din shook his head. “No, no. We were in the Dune Sea. I⏤I missed the trip wire and we fell. You were hurt. We⏤”

“Din, that was so long ago. Out of all the bantha shit we’ve dealt with I’m surprised that memory is the one plaguing you.” You said.

Din pulled out of your arms. “It wasn’t. It just happened. You’re lost⏤ You’re hurt. I have to⏤”

“I’m not lost. I’m not hurt. I’m safe, right here with you, in our home. Grogu is still sleeping down the hall. There’s no place safer for our son and I.” You set your hands on his chest once more. “Grogu with his buir, and I with my riduur.”

Din was so shocked by the Mando’a that left your lips that he didn’t even register the soft kiss you pressed in the middle of his chest. Right where his iron heart would be if he had his armor on. You stepped away from him, walking to the dresser off to the side, and Din watched you go until you let the towel fall from your body. He forced his gaze up to the ceiling to keep from staring. Something felt wrong. Was this a dream? Was he dead?

Din didn’t trust the world around him.

You startled awake. A cloud of panic and fear drowning you.

“Mando!?” The nickname left your lips before you even registered a thought. You scrambled to sit up, arms reaching out to try and find purchase, but it was too dark to see anything.  Even without your sight, something felt familiar about the material under your body and the comforting smell surrounding you, but the last memory of the smugglers dropping the spice bomb had too much adrenaline rushing through your body for you to think properly. 

The wall in front of you shot up with a metallic click and a light blinded you. Hands grabbed your calves and you screamed again trying to kick them off. “Mesh’la! You’re safe!” Mando’s modulated voice filled the air. “You’re on the Razor Crest. You’re in my bunk.”

Your eyes adjusted to the light and you recognized your setting. That’s why it was familiar. Mando’s scent surrounded you as you were nestled in the blankets and pillow he used to sleep. Standing at the bunk’s entrance was the Mandalorian himself. He looked unharmed, but he always looked unharmed when he was covered from head to toe in his beskar.

“Mando!” You cried in alarm and launched yourself at him. He didn’t complain when you wrapped your arms around him tightly. Mando simply held onto you and kept you from knocking him over. This should be awkward considering how he had bluntly said he felt nothing for you only weeks ago. But, you were so relieved that he was safe and alive that you didn’t care. His hands rubbed your back soothingly as he mumbled soft reassurances. “I thought you⏤ I thought we⏤”

“We’re safe, mesh’la.” Mando replied.

You leaned back and he kept his arms around you. “What happened? The last thing I remember…” It hurt to try and pull the memory out of your own head. Spice bomb. Red dust had rained over you and Mando. You passed out on top of him. “The⏤The bomb.”

“It knocked you out.” Mando said. “My helmet filtered it out, I think. I woke up with you on top of me and the smugglers were climbing down. We fought. I won. Then I carried you back to Peli’s.”

“All of that happened?”

“We’re in hyperspace now.”

“How,” You shook your head, “How long was I out?”

“Two days. The spice hit your systems hard. I was⏤” Mando cleared his throat, the sound scratchy through the modulator. “I was worried about you, mesh’la.”

It was only then you realized you still had your hands resting on his shoulders and he had his own wrapped around your waist as you sat on your knees⏤ the bunk making the two of you eye level. You swallowed nervously. “I, uh, it was you I was worried about. Your head. I thought I saw blood when you were out cold.”

“Small injury. Only took one round of bacta to clear up.”

“Good.”

“You, on the other hand,” Mando mumbled. He brushed his gloved fingers across your face. The touch lingered on your cheekbone. The same one that had hit the ground hard enough to make your face throb. Mando pulled his other hand away to wrap around your non-bruised and non-swollen wrist. How much bacta had he used to get all your injuries healed in two days? “Mesh’la, I am so sorry.”

You shook your head. “None of that was your fault.”

Mando kept quiet, as if he didn’t agree but didn’t know what else to say. The sound of a soft coo made you lean forward and peer around the edge of the bunk where Grogu was standing by the ladder leading up to the cockpit. He lifted his arms and waddled closer. Mando released you to pick the small child up. Grogu whined until Mando set him in your lap and you didn’t hesitate to cuddle the boy to your chest.

Thank the Maker, he hadn’t been with the two of you. You let out another sigh of relief. It seemed like you and Mando had gotten out of the pit by luck alone and you don’t know what you would’ve done if Grogu had been harmed during the whole thing.

“Here. Let’s get you some food.” Mando set a hand on your elbow to help you slide out of the bunk. What caught you off guard was when he let his hand travel from your arm to your lower back as he led you toward the ladder. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his entire frame. Mando was a good man. It wasn’t the shiny, silver metal of a Mandalorian you were attracted to or the reputation of a dangerous and strong bounty hunter. You had fallen for the kind and protective man who hid under both of those roles. Mando’s head turned to stare back at you and a thrill went down your spine. He whispered your name.

You took a step away and cleared your throat. Mando let his arm fall away. Your obsession with him, your stupid idiotic crush on him, had you misreading signals left and right. The only reason you had confessed was because you convinced yourself that he was shooting you lingering looks and that every brush of his hand against you was purposeful and not a mistake made in passing. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled. Mando had made his position clear, and you were done crossing the lines and boundaries he had set.

“Can you get up to the flight deck alright?” Mando asked and you nodded. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Mando tilted his head toward the ladder and he waited until you began to climb⏤ as if he was worried you’d fall off mid-way up. When you got upstairs, you settled into the co-pilot’s chair with Grogu in your lap and stared out at the blurring lines of hyperspace. A small smile settled on your features.

The world around you was right again.

Din felt more like himself once he had his armor on. It still felt like the world around him was spinning and nothing made sense, but his beskar was like a heavy, impenetrable comfort blanket. He sat in a kitchen, helmet on, as he stared out at Sundari through a window that sat near a dining table. It seemed the home around him was part of a tower inside the domed city, and Din still couldn’t wrap his brain around that. The sound of footsteps startled him and he turned in time to see you padding down the hall with Grogu in your arms. He pushed to stand⏤ seeing the small child putting him at ease.

“Why do you have your helmet on?” You asked after handing Grogu to him. The child bounced in his arms chanting a recognizable sound asking for food. “Are you leaving already? Don’t you want breakfast?”

Din stayed quiet. You moved around the kitchen with the ease of someone who did this regularly, and he watched you make a meal. It didn’t make sense, he didn’t understand, but he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt toward you being so domestic. Especially after you had just claimed that he was your partner, your husband, your riduur.

“Come here, cutie.” You cooed to Grogu and he let you take the boy from him. You set him in a little high chair and set a bowl of food in front of him. As per usual, Grogu didn’t hesitate to begin scarfing down what was in front of him. You lovingly pressed a kiss to his head then walked over to lean at the corner of the kitchen island next to him. “Din, please talk to me.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “You’re starting to scare me.”

“I’m sorry, Mesh’la.” He sighed. 

You had shifted even closer to the bar stool he sat on. Din tensed when your hands settled on his thighs and you stepped between them. Slowly, you took his hand in yours and began to peel his gloves off. Din sucked in a breath, but couldn’t find a complaint to speak. You did the same thing with his other hand. Finally, your hands rested on his helmet, but you didn’t move. Not until Din gave a small nod. You pulled his helmet off carefully, respectfully resting it on the counter, and Din felt his features soften as he stared at you. Maker, you were beautiful.

“Din, listen to me, I love you.” You said. A pretty smile spread across your features and you took his face between your hands. “But if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I am going to kick your ass.” He chuckled and leaned into your touch. Was Din losing his mind? If this was insanity, it felt so good that Din really didn't think he minded. “Are you… Are you having one of your mornings?”

“One of my… mornings?” Din furrowed his brow.

“You know, when the nightmare doesn’t end.” You whispered.

Din shook his head. “This isn’t a nightmare. It’s a dream. A dream I don’t deserve.” He let his hands rest on top of yours with the plan to pull them away, but he was too weak to actually go through with it. Din sighed, “I lied to you.” A flash of confusion crossed your features. “I said I didn’t care about you in the same way you felt about me, but it was a lie. From the moment you stepped onto the Razor Crest I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. Mesh’la, you are my world.”

“Din, are you…” You paused then a small laugh left you, “Maker, are you talking about when we were trying to get to Mos Pelgo, still? I confessed to you and then we got caught weeks later and…” You shook your head. “Don’t scare me like that. When you said you were sorry and you lied, I was worried something had happened. It’s just a bad morning. They always pass.”

“What are you talking about?” Din asked.

“Fine. I’ll jump start your memory.” You pushed up on your tiptoes and then sat on his thigh. Naturally, his hands went around your waist to keep you from falling and your hands wrapped around his neck. “You confessed to me. It happened months later. You’re an incredible bounty hunter, but you move slow as hell, Din.” He narrowed his eyes. “It was right after we decided to keep Grogu with us. Become a real family. For the record, it also took you way too long to propose to me too.”

Din could picture it all and it made everything so much more confusing. Had that happened? No. Not yet. Yet? Had he meant to think of that word? Yet? Din wasn’t planning any of that, but it sounded right. No part of him thought he deserved you or Grogu, but Maker this was what he always wanted. It was the life he craved, but was too broken to admit aloud. 

“But,” Din tried to find a tether to hold him in reality, “Sundari. We live in Sundari? Mandalore is dead.”

“No, it wasn’t. The poison the Empire caused faded away. We rebuilt.” The sound of a door chime made you glance over your shoulder. “Kriff. She’s here early.” You slid off his lap. “Grogu, we’re gonna be late! Let’s get you cleaned up so Soran can walk you to school.”

Din watched you scoop Grogu up, the boy gave him a wave he returned numbly, and the two of you disappeared down the hall. Were his fears the reason he was confused? What if what you said was right? He was just trapped in a nightmare and it was keeping him from living his life. Din had finally taken the leap, taken the chance, and found his perfect home. Now, his fear was crawling back and trying to ruin it again. Din always did this. He always fought himself. It was why he had denied your initial confession and wasted so much time in the first place.

Moments passed, he could hear you moving around the home with Grogu. Until finally the door chime rang again. Din stood up and faced the hall. Seconds later, you stepped back into view. You gave him a bright smile. 

“Alright, where were we?”

Fully accepting this for what it was, Din marched toward you. Your feet came to a stuttering stop and an excitement filled your eyes. You knew what he was doing before even he knew entirely. Din basically tackled you, pressing your body as tight as he could to his chest, and crushed his lips to yours. You responded immediately. Your hands wrapping around his neck as his tongue found it’s way past your lips. Din let his hands trail down your back, over your ass, under your thighs, and with ease began to pick you up. Just like with the kiss, you were on the same page as he was. You jumped just enough for him to lift you off the ground and your legs wrapped around his waist⏤ locking your ankles at his back. 

Din had planned to carry you down the hall, back to the bedroom, but he felt you grind against him and that plan went right out the window. He slammed you against the wall, lips leaving yours to trail down your neck. Maker, he wanted you. Keeping you pinned to the wall with his hips, relying on your grip around his waist and neck, Din pulled his hands away so he could grab the collar of your shirt. He ripped it down to the middle of your torso so his mouth could reach your breasts.

“I liked that shirt, you know.” You gasped, but the way you kept trying to find friction against his hard on told him you didn’t like it all that much.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” Din replied before leaving open mouth kisses down your chest. One hand went back to cup around your thigh and the other yanked your breast band down so his mouth could wrap around your nipple. The unholy moan that left your lips nearly made him come undone right then and there.

“You’re going to be late to work. They need you today.”

“Mesh’la, I don’t kriffing care.” Din said after pulling his lips away from your breast. His mouth found its way back to yours and after leaving a messy kiss there he pulled away only far enough to speak. “As far as I’m concerned the only place I’m needed is right between your thighs.” 

Din licked into your mouth, and he was startled when your hands untangled from around his neck. Then, with great proficiency, you began to unlatch his armor. His vambrace and left pauldron fell to the ground with a heavy thunk. “How did you do that so fast? How’d you know where the latches were?”

“I’m your wife, dummy.” You unlatched his right one, it joined the other on the floor, then you ripped the cloak out from under the top of his chest piece and pulled down on the collar of his shirt so you could leave too soft, teasing kisses against the hollow of his throat. “Now, either keep carrying me down the hall to our bed or drop me on the floor⏤ I don’t care, I just need you to fuck me.”

Din was not going to make it to the bedroom.

You rose from your seat with Grogu nestled in your arms sleeping. It hadn’t taken long for the boy to fall asleep between the warmth of your arms and the silence of hyperspace. As you drifted toward the door, Mando spoke up.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna put him in his hammock is all.” You whispered.

Mando glanced over his shoulder at you then nodded. “Good. Come back up when you’re done.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise but you gave him a quiet confirmation before leaving the cockpit. You made your way down the ladder slowly and carefully so you didn’t wake or drop the little green gremlin snoring against your chest. You chuckled and rubbed his back while crossing the cargo hold. When you set him in the hammock, he stirred briefly and you took the time to lightly rock the hammock while humming him a lullaby. Only when you were convinced he had fallen back into a restful sleep did you find your way back to the cockpit.

“He’s down for the count.” You joked and dropped back into your chair.

Mando flipped a few switches on the panel before spinning the pilot’s seat so he was facing you. Your eyes widened and you shifted awkwardly in place. The weight of his heavy stare on you was intense. It burned into you and for a brief second you were sure he could see straight into your soul.

“What’s going on?” You asked. “You okay?”

“I could’ve lost you.” Mando whispered. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“It’s over, Mando. We don’t have to think about it anymore.”

“It’s not over, mesh’la. There will always be another fight, another opportunity for someone to take you from me.” He argued. 

Mando wasn’t wrong. Your lives were a constant battle to maintain the upper hand over all the people trying to take Grogu and harm both of you. It was the exact reason why you had found the courage to confess to him in the first place. You stupidly convinced yourself that you didn’t want to lose anymore time⏤ waste another second. The silence in the cockpit was agonizing. You wanted so badly to break it, but you had no idea what to say to do so.

Luckily, Mando did not have that same problem.

“Come here, mesh’la.” He motioned you toward him with the curling motion of his fingers. You swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in the middle of your throat like a rock. “Please.” The word was spoken softly, but there was a firm undertone that made it feel less like a request and more like a command. You stood up and took the single shaky step that was required to put you in his reach. Mando’s hands found your hips and he startled you by pulling you into his lap. With a yelp of surprise, you were forced to rest your knees on the outside of his thighs. The moment you were situated Mando spread his own thighs further so each of your legs were pinned between him and the chair and you were even more open to him. “Oh, sweet girl…”

“Mando. What⏤ What are you doing?” You whispered. Your entire face felt hot⏤ kriff, every inch of you felt hot.

He shook his head, his hands roaming up and down your sides, “I never should have said no to you. What happened, it made me realize how much,” Mando raised a gloved hand to your face, “how much I care about you.”

“Wait, really?” You breathed. It was the stupidest kind of response to give and you hated that you just blurted it out. Mando chuckled in response, and you shook your head. “Mando, maybe you’re just… feeling this way because what happened was so fresh. We should give it a little time⏤”

“I spent two days waiting for you to open those pretty eyes for me, sweet girl.” Mando cut in. “I’m not losing another second with you.”

The hand fell from your face to rest on your shoulder and, with the other still on your hip, Mando pressed you down on top of him. He shifted his own hips so he could drag the hard bulge in his pants against your core. A sharp gasp of surprise left your lips. Mando kept you pressed against him and when he dragged his hip against yours again the sensation caused you to groan this time.

“Dank farrik.” Mando grunted as he bucked up against you⏤ this time you moved your own hips to add to the friction and he moaned. The sound of him losing control shot straight to your core and you let your hands rest on his chest so you could grind into him more. Maker, you wanted to hear that sound again.

Mando sat up straight and the only thing keep you from tumbling off his lap was the hand he wrapped around your waist. He reached past you, hands hitting switches and buttons, and suddenly the entire panel of flickering lights went dead. “Mando?” You questioned. He hit one more switch and you glanced over your shoulder to watch as the windows darkened until the lights of hyperspace couldn’t be seen. Nothing could be seen. A hiss of pressure release, then a hand took hold of your jaw to turn you back so you faced forward.

“Mesh’la.” Mando whispered. Before you had only heard his unmodulated voice from a distance, as he was eating out of sight or lying in his bunk with the door closed. But, now it was closer than you could ever imagine. He mumbled your name and you could feel the movement of his lips just barely brushing against yours⏤ his hot breath on your face. “Say you want me, mesh’la.”

You took in a deep breath and nodded. “I want you, Mando. I’ve always wanted you.”

Rather than pressing his lips to yours as you wanted, Mando lifted you with ease and pressed you against the control panel. Something sharp was jabbing you in the back, but you didn’t care. Mando’s leather gloves roughly yanked your pants down, underwear and all. You had lifted your hips just enough to help him, but when you lowered yourself back into a seated position you hissed at the cold metal against your bare skin. 

You lifted your hands to find his shoulders, you wanted to feel his face, but Mando’s hands grabbed you by the wrists and pinned them to the panel by your head. He leaned over you and slowly dragged his hard cock, hidden behind his flight suit, against your already dripping wet lips⏤ but it wasn’t the only lips you wanted touched.

“Kiss me, please.” You begged and tried to lift your head to find his, but he leaned back just enough to avoid you. “Mando, I want to feel you⏤ all of you⏤ please.”

“Not yet, mesh’la. Be patient.” His entire weight was pressing down on you. “Good girls are patient, and only good girls get rewarded. Is that what you want, mesh’la? To be my good girl?” You nodded, breathless from the agonizingly slow way he was grinding into you. “Words, mesh’la.”

“Yes.” You gasped. “Please, Mando, please⏤”

“How lucky am I?” Mando hummed. “To have such a pretty girl begging under me. I’ve wanted to make you fall apart since the moment you stepped onto my ship.” You tensed as an alarm began to faintly ring at the back of your mind. Something inside you was trying to warn you. Mando kept whispering loving words on top of you. “You’re mine, mesh’la. You’ve always been mine and you always will be.”

“No.” You tried to squirm out from under him, but Mando was much too large and much too heavy for you to even move an inch. “No, no, no.”

Taking the hint, Mando released your hands and jumped away from you. Breathless, you tried to sit up and gather your bearings. “What is it, mesh’la? What’s wrong?”

“This is wrong.” You shook your head.

“No, it’s right. This is what you want, this is what I want.”

“No, it’s not.” A sob left you. “You don’t want me. You said so yourself. You don’t want me. This isn’t right.” Your head was beginning to pound in pain and Mando’s voice sounded like it was suddenly far away. The cold metal under you was beginning to turn hot and the firm smoothness of the control panel was taking on a new texture⏤ something grainy that shifted under you. The darkness turned to a blinding light and you gasped as pain began to settle into you.

Your face was throbbing, you tasted blood in your mouth, and your right wrist was aching. Now you had a pounding headache as well.  You blinked your eyes, trying to clear the blurriness out of your vision, and you saw a man climbing down a ladder into the pit you laid in. The smugglers. The spice bomb. Your hand tightened around the blaster you had taken from Mando and you lifted your heavy arm to fire at the man. It hit him in the back and he fell from the ladder and landed motionless only a few feet away.

You blindly fired shots up to the ridge of the pit. Over and over⏤ not knowing what else to do. You fired so much that you never noticed the sound of someone else’s blaster mingling with yours. A familiar voice was calling out to you, but it wasn’t Mando. Your heavy arm sunk back into the sand, blaster falling loose, and your eyes began to droop in exhaustion.

You wished it was Mando calling for you.

You woke up slowly. Your entire body was sore and it took straight willpower to get your eyes to stay open. There was a thin cot underneath you and a flickering fire ahead of you. A groan fell from your lips as you tried to sit up.

“Whoa, whoa,” A familiar voice said, “Slow down there, little lady.”

“Vanth?” You tried to turn to find your friend, but a warm hand kept you from moving too much. Suddenly, Cobb Vanth was kneeling beside you with a charming grin. Your entire body sagged in relief. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now.”

Vanth rubbed his jawline and gave you a wink, “I am much better looking than those damned smugglers, huh? How’d you and Mando get caught up in all that mess?”

“Mando!” You sat up quickly, immediately wincing when a sharp pain shot through you.

“Maker, darling.” Vanth scolded. “Your tin man is doing just fine. He’ll feel just as shitty as you when he finally wakes up.”

You glanced around and just as Vanth said your companion was lying on a small rolled out cot of his own. The firelight dancing as it reflected off his beskar. “He’s really okay? I think he had a head injury.”

“He’s fine. I promise you.” You nodded and Vanth offered you a canteen of water. As he asked, you began to tell him the story of what happened. It didn’t take long until you reached the point of the story that made your cheeks warm. Vanth noticed your hesitance and bumped his shoulder into yours. “Say your piece.”

“They threw a spice bomb and… and some weird shit happened.”

“Yeah, a spice bomb will do that to you.”

“What is it?”

“Depends. What’d you see?”

You paused before shrugging. “I was on the Razor Crest. Traveling with Mando and Grogu. Like always. It was… it felt so real.”

“Probably glitterstim then.” Vanth made you drink more water. “I have no idea how you broke out of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The drug should’ve put you under. Place you in a happy haze of the thing you want most and trap you there for as long as the drug runs its course. Too much and you can end up dying in that perfect little world.” Vanth explained. “Usually, you can’t get out unless someone hits you with an antidote. Something to cancel the effects of the glitterstim. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless you shock yourself out of it.” Vanth shrugged. “It all happens quick. In the first few minutes you either fall into the spice’s trap or you snap through it. The fact that I saw you wake up and shoot that smuggler is quite the feat, darling. How’d you do it?”

You wrapped your arms around your legs and rested your chin on your knees. The drug in your system deemed your perfect world to be Mando confessing how badly he wanted you. How pathetic was that? You didn’t stay under because even in a drugged out haze your mind knew that it was fake. Mando didn’t want you. Not the way you wanted him. Tears filled your eyes. Vanth didn’t press for you to answer and instead set his arm around your shoulder as a comfort. You leaned into him and fell asleep.

Every single part of Din’s body hurt. It reminded him of when the mudhorn had tossed him around like a ragdoll. Every atom in his body though, despite the pain, screamed danger. Din forced himself to sit up, blaster drawn. He was in the desert, by a fire in the dead of night. Across from him, he saw Cobb Vanth sitting there casually. Din’s blaster was pointed at him, but Vanth just gave him a slight wave.

“Hey there, brother.” He greeted. “You can put the blaster away.”

“What⏤” Din began to ask, but then his eyes landed on you. Your head rested against Vanth’s thigh and he had one hand resting on your shoulder. Part of your face looked bruised and even from this distance he could see your busted lip.

“Smugglers got the jump on y’all. Hit you with a spice bomb.” Din holstered his blaster and cursed. Dank farrik. Whispers of his dream world lingered in his mind and Din had to shake his head to try and rid himself of the way your lips felt against his skin. “You’re lucky.”

“This is lucky?” Din asked dryly. Maker, his body ached. 

“Little lady here broke free of the spice dream.” Vanth said. Din’s eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t know what he wanted to know more⏤ what your perfect world had looked like or how you had broken out of it. Vanth’s hand was tracing shapes on your shoulder as you slept and Din frowned at the touch. Coming from an imaginary world where he was fucking you, his wife, to reality where you were sleeping against another man was jarring. “You got stuck in it. Tell me, Mando, what was your perfect world?”

You were. You were his perfect world.

But, Din couldn’t bring himself to admit that in his current reality. 

[in1-nutshell]

ANOTHER EARTHSPARK REQUEST SINCE THERES NOT MUCH!

So, I wanted a terran bot buddy that kind of acts like Rumble, kind of- since I wanted to see Soundwave becoming their dad2 and the minicons being their adopted siblings unintentionally lol

And I meant unintentionally, maybe they met sometime before the “Decoy” episode, which leads a bit of an angst thing since I also wanted to see the minicons a bit shocked seeing Buddy being with the autobots

Oh!

Oh... this is going to be fun...

On a serious note though, where is Rumble? And where's Ratchet?!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Terran with the personality of Rumble meeting Soundwave and the minicons

SFW, Platonic, Slight Angst, Cybertronain (terran) reader

TFE

Buddy was one of the livelier Terrans between Twitch and Thrash. Defiantly the hardheaded one.

Having a mini rover as their alt mode, Buddy often liked riding around in the back blasting whatever tunes that were on the radio or on their playlist. And being the smallest Terran also had its perks.

“Have you seen Buddy yet?”--Robbie

“I’ve looked in the barn, and garage.”--Thrash

“I flew over by the cows, no sign of them.”--Twitch

Twitch looking at Bumblebee, who’s leaning against the barn door.

“Have you seen them?”--Twitch

“I don’t see them.”--Bumblebee

Twitch groans before looking back at the group.

“They couldn’t have gone that far, they know they aren’t supposed to go out of the fences.”--Mo

“…But what if they did?”--Twitch

“They wouldn’t do that… would they?”--Thrash

“We need to find them before dinner’s ready.”--Robbie

“How much time do we have for that?”--Twitch

“15 minutes.”--Mo

“…”—The Maltos

They all spread out to go look for Buddy.

Bumblebee looks around for a bit before tapping the barn floorboard.

Buddy pops out of there filled with dust and some cobwebs here and there.

“You know you should go and tell them where you are.”--Bumblebee

“Nah, this is revenge.”--Buddy

Bumblebee looked at them curious.

“Revenge?”--Bumblebee

Buddy picks off some of the cobwebs off their arm.

“Thrash didn’t catch me during our trust fall exercise and Twitch decided to take me flying. She knows I hate flying.”--Buddy

“What about Robbie and Mo? What did they do?”--Bumblebee

“I… I honestly don’t remember…”--Buddy

Buddy suddenly feels sad and extreme worry.

“…”—Bumblebee and Buddy

“…You should get back to them.”--Bumblebee

“I should get back to them. Hey guys! I’m here!”--Buddy

They definitely had a bit of an attitude, but they were fiercely protective of their family.

They were not afraid to throw their servos at anyone who decided to hurt their family in any way shape or form.

No one was going to mess with their brothers and sisters except them.

When they first met Autobots, he felt weirded out by their prolonged stares.

Especially Megatron’s.

Buddy wanted to ask, but they never got around to asking.

Mainly because they were looking after their siblings while also doing the stuff they liked.

Buddy accidentally dropkicks Thrash during training.

“Oh! Sorry Thrash!”--Buddy

Bumblebee coming to Thrash and Buddy.

“Rumble you can’t just dropkick—”--Bumblebee

“Rumble? Who’s Rumble?”--Buddy

Bee freezes a second.

“Forget what I said. Just no dropkicking during training.”--Bumblebee

Buddy raises an optic through their battle visor but lets it go.

Buddy had fallen behind the group when they were introduced to Arcee and went to go and find Bumblebee.

They blamed the speed of their alt mode for not being quicker.

Buddy came out of the woods transforming and landed in front of their siblings ready to fight the other minicon.

To their surprise, all three stopped at the same time.

They looked… shocked.

Buddy in battle stance.

“Listen I don’t know who you guys are, but you better leave me and my siblings alone.”--Buddy

“Rumble?”--Frenzy

Buddy falters their stance a bit.

“Who’s Rumble? I’m Buddy. You know what never mind. Just go away!”--Buddy

The three snap out of it and charge up a sonic scream at them all.

Thanks to a catchy tune the scream stopped.

Bumblebee came from the ridge and started fighting the minis.

Buddy saw one of them charging a scream at their teacher.

“Bee look out!”--Buddy

Buddy took the hit instead and flew off the ledge to the battle below.

“BUDDY!”—The Maltos and Bumblebee

Buddy hit a couple boulders on the way down and ended up falling on the side of the battle. Their pede got stuck on some rocks rendering them immobile.

Arcee went to go and see Buddy, but the rocks were still pinning her down.

Optimus tried to go but got tossed to the other side by Soundwave.

Soundwave and Megatron were now in a stale mate servo locked in place.

Megatron looked quickly where Buddy was. They were still trying to get their pede out from the larger rocks angrily muttering.

Soundwave looked were Megatron was looking and his grip nearly faltered.

The minibot rubbing their helm with a pede stuck on some rocks looked so much like…

The sound of rocks crumbling was heard above Buddy as huge chucks started falling.

Buddy looked up in fear at the rocks starting to come downwards.

They felt more fear from the link from their siblings.

Oh no their siblings…

What was going to happened to them?

What was going to happen to their family if they got squashed?

“BUDDY!”—Megatron and Optimus

Soundwave threw Megatron to the side and sprinted to the minbot, throwing the rock from their pede, snatching them, tucking them safely into his chest compartment and ran out.

A couple of larger rock did hit him, but he made sure to protect the compartment with his frame.

Soundwave heard the frightened screams from inside which pushed him to get out of there quicker.

The last big boulder made him trip onto another pile of rocks.

He landed on his back, servos crossed his chassis and laid there for a bit.

Everything was quiet.

Soundwave slowly sat up in pain and opened the chest compartment.

Buddy spilled out into his arms.

Buddy just stared, shivering from fear, at the larger Con that had just saved their life.

They noticed that Soundwave’s servos started to shake too.

They gently patted them as he set them down next to him.

“Thank you—”--Buddy

Megatron tried to snatch them up, but Soundwave grabbed Buddy’s servo tightly.

“Soundwave, while you’ve done an admirable—”--Megatron

“Rumble.”--Soundwave

The bots freeze a bit.

“Where is Rumble now Megatron?”—Soundwave

“Soundwave—”

“Where is he!?”--Soundwave

With That Megatron yanks Buddy out of his grip and Arcee kicks him in the face, falling unconscious.

“Buddy?”--Megatron

Buddy buried their face into Megatron’s neck cables shaking like a leaf.

“I—I want to go home now… I want Mom and—and Dad.”--Buddy

Megatron can only hold tighter as he walks them over to their siblings.

Later that day, Buddy would try brushing the feeling of fear for of the dents they were going to have to explain to Dot to their siblings.

Robbie and Mo seemed less convinced than Twitch and Thrash, but they didn’t press more on the matter.

Dot and Alex were more concern with Buddy nearly getting crushed, but Buddy reassured them that they were fine and now had a cool story to tell.

Truth though was that they were far from fine.

They were terrified.

They were terrified of that name.

The name that had been bouncing all around today.

The name that everyone seemed to associate them with, but they didn’t even know who they were.

The name.

Rumble.

[esta-elavaris]

Having the worst depressive episode I’ve had in a long, long time — so I’m gonna take a break until I’ll be more fun to be around, and then when I get back I’ll catch up on all of the replies I’ve fallen woefully behind with 💜

You’re all stars, I’m very grateful to have found such insanely lovely people via my writing ✨

[bel-7823]

WIP list (it’s long…)

Not sure if I’ve done a wip update before but I figured it might give me some accountability. There are more fics too, these are just my main ones. (Most of the titles are place holders)

On the highest shelf: part two in The Sketchbook series, right after Under the Floorboards. John and Isobel marry and the story picks up from there. It’s 10,000 words already and very much an Isobel character study and very centric on her. Also I’m giving her a love interest… And of course John is pining for Percy.

The Monmouth thing: Percy almost kisses John in that tent before his escape, John doesn’t let him get away with the “almost” part of it, things go from there. Domestic fluff after it gets worked out.

A rewrite of the cat-ónine-tails scene from BotB: what it says on the tin, it’s more J/P centric with some Jamie processing. Gets kinky in future scenes.

Caught Falling: In America, John and Percy have fallen back into a friend’s with benefits situation and Jamie accidentally walks in on them making love. John ends up talking to Jamie and the subject comes up and John’s confusing status on whether he’s in love with Percy or not comes to light. John would probably rather it didn’t, but Brianna walked in and now her and a reluctant Jamie are picking apart the walls John keeps around his heart for Percy.

Draw a heart on the windowpane: P/J established but... John can’t say I love you. It’s driving Percy crazy but he doesn’t want to push John. I don’t wanna spoil the rest bc it’s almost done.

We know John likes tall men, the J/P ship is asking for some smut with that. So that’s what this fic is

Exchange: Percy starts spending time with a friend of his and John gets jealous. But they aren’t anymore than friends who share a bed, right?

Three spinoffs. John is the only one who catches Percy and Weber. Percy and John get a chance to talk.

Pier: John’s a siren Percy’s a prostitute and it’s a smut fic (this was for Halloween). It’s literally done I’m just iffy on posting smut lol.

Run away: more smut lol. Percy’s father never dies and he end up becoming a priest. John seduces him. (This post might be the closest it ever gets to seeing the light of day.)

Time travel fic: Events go as cannon, except Percy dies in prison and John is left behind. Then that John gets tossed a few months back in time to a world where Percy is very much alive and hasn’t gone to Germany yet. John takes what he can, and ends up giving far more.

Post Echo: an America fic where Percy finds out John had loved him in London. Some confrontation after that.

Christ I love him rewrite: what it says on the tin. I watched the new episodes (some of them) and want to do a rewrite my fic after seeing John and Claire talking that morning after lol.

A hike with Jamie and Claire: isn’t it cannon that Claire and Jamie had sex when Ian was nearby on a traveling trip or some shit? Anyway, it does seem like something they would do. Percy and John are not a couple and yet they are in a bed sharing situation because *it’s cold* and J/C decide that with everyone asleep (not) it’s a great time to make love. J/P are very much not asleep and end up thinking about their own love affair.

You can have whoever you want/ I want you: yet another London J/P love confession scene.

God help me it’s spook again: I rewrite of a fic (Spook) I posted three chapters of and then deleted. This is much more shaped up and makes sense. Summary: Unable to face the death of his lover Hector, Lord John Grey enlists the help of a witch who can bring back the dead. Things get complicated when curses are thrown and Percy Wainwright enters the mix.

That’s it for the main ones on the floor!

[the-one-where-casey-watches-tv]

From episode 3.10 "Revelations: Chapter 2"

It seems that my parents and I are the only people in the whole world who are watching this show, and I am completely baffled as to why. Realistically, the answer is probably a combination of a weird, unmemorable title that doesn’t fit organically into any sentence (it actually might be the worst title of all time. I’m still not even sure what it means), inaccessibility (what is MGM+?), and an utter lack of star power (which I actually think is a plus). Nonetheless, I cannot hype this show up enough. It’s worth the stilted conversations where no one knows what I’m talking about, paying for it on Prime or navigating its maze to find my way to this mysterious MGM+, and falling into the plot without the distraction or bias of any familiar faces.

After aggressively watching Lost a year ago- and dragging everyone in my life down this rabbit hole with me- my mom sent an article adamantly declaring that this show called From that I’ve never once heard of is even better. I’m the first to come to Lost’s defense, but even I have to agree. On paper, the two shows are so similar that I was skeptical that a rip-off was getting such high praise. It even stars Lost alum Harold Perrineau, the only remotely recognizable cast member, though calling him famous seems like a stretch.

Since I haven’t yet encountered anyone who’s seen it, I’ll start from the beginning. The pilot finds the Matthews family RV road trip impeded by a massive fallen tree in the middle of a wooded street. It’s too big to move, so they reluctantly turn around. With no clear landmarks to get their bearings and a creepy burst of flight from a nearby flock of crows, dad Jim, mom Tabitha, teen daughter Julie, and little (but wise) Ethan slowly roll along. Everyone is relieved when a town comes into view. It’s bleak, shabby, and not much to speak of (think Schitt’s Creek but half the size and even more desolate), but it’s civilization, nonetheless.

Us in the audience are wary of this town after being treated to a cold open in which a little girl, despite adamant town-wide warnings from Sheriff Boyd Stevens, opens her second story bedroom window for a very frightening old lady eerily tapping on the glass and pleading to be let in. When morning comes, the little girl and her mother (the only people in the house at the time) are discovered, rib cages split open, insides hollowed out, blood absolutely everywhere. Smash cut to opening credits (a spooky rendition of “Que Sera, Sera”- I like it).

The handful of townsfolk (a few dozen, maybe) are gathered for the girls’ funeral when the Matthews’ RV comes into view. We learn from snatches of conversation that these flesh-eating monsters tapping on windows after nightfall is an understood, nightly occurrence. The poor deceased family’s absent, drunkard of a husband/father was unacceptably careless in leaving his vulnerable family alone after dark, windows not nailed shut. Yet when everyone catches sight of not only the RV, but another car coming along the road behind it, their reaction makes things even weirder.

Amongst murmurs that there hasn’t been “two cars in one day” in a “long time”, Sheriff Stevens tells everyone to finish paying their respects and then return to their lives- he’ll “handle it”. With the help of his young adult son Ellis and deputy Kenny, he kindly tells the Matthews that if they keep going straight, they’ll find their way back to the highway. But in an aside to Ellis and Kenny, he says he’ll let them “do a few laps” to “prepare them for what’s coming”, and in the meantime, they should get out the tire strips.

The Matthews indeed do a few laps: without ever making a turn, they drive through this same sad little town one, two, three, four more times. Panic rising, they eventually collide with the other car that’s doing the same thing. It’s dusk, little Ethan is severely injured, the driver of the other car soon succumbs to his injury (his surviving passenger Jade, however, will become a key player). It’s all a very high stakes and heart pounding way to learn the laws of the land: when you encounter the fallen tree in the road and the creepy crows, it’s already too late. You’re in town, and you can’t leave. And when the sun goes down, little stone talismans hung on walls behind closed doors are the only thing keeping out the scary human-like monsters that will sprout fangs and eat your guts if you succumb to their pleas and crack a window or open a door.

Throughout the three seasons we have of From so far, the more the eccentrically endearing cast of characters have tried to crack the mysteries of the town and find their way home, the more weirdness has sprouted up. It’s all very Lost- these wayward, quirky people are just trying to survive, but the weirder things get, the more these poor people seem to be fated to be here, carefully chosen by some unknown force for a specific, but as yet undetermined reason. I’ll often compare stories to puzzles, but every episode of From in particular feels like putting just enough pieces into place that you realize the overarching picture is bigger than you ever imagined.

My dad, who felt betrayed by Lost’s chaotic and confusing meandering, sat down almost nervously as we crammed all 10 episodes of season 3 into a 7-day free trial of MGM+. “I hope they don’t ruin it” he kept saying. I didn’t disagree- shows like this that are mysteriously building to a big something can all turn out to feel like a waste of time if the big something isn’t emotionally satisfying and narratively sound. I chose this most recent season finale to cover (I’m getting to it I promise) because this episode put more puzzle pieces into place than ever before. Show creators and writers have referred to it as the “end of the beginning”. To keep the puzzle analogy going, it feels like we have all the edge pieces in place, a border complete. And most exciting of all, I’m incredibly compelled by the image that’s beginning to come together.

If I’ve perhaps just convinced you to give From a chance, stop reading here and come on back once you’ve caught up. It’s time to unpack what I consider to be an incredible season finale.

The second half of this two-parter picks up with Elgin holding a now very pregnant Fatima prisoner in the creepy storm cellar, following the orders of the creepy lady talking to him through his polaroid camera. The whole town is still actively searching for her, but Ellis bursts into the Sheriff’s station, telling Boyd and Donna that he thinks Elgin knows something. They promptly isolate Elgin in Colony House, and Boyd brings Sara in to try to talk some sense into him.

It’s really helpful and compelling that the show drew this comparison between Elgin and Sara; Sara’s experience in season 1 is neither a one-off nor forgotten: it was a precedent for an even bigger event still to come. With now two incidents to consider- along with Tabitha, Jade, and Victor’s simultaneous work on the bottle tree- it seems clear that there are both Good and Bad forces at play in town and the forest beyond. Discretion is key. Fate is an undeniable theme of the series, and the forces of the town certainly nudge characters this way and that, but there is a time to follow and a time to resist. Elgin should have resisted. And this sequence of events only opens the floor for more Bad decisions.

The bottle tree, Victor’s family, Julie’s visions, and the weird little “Anghkooey” children feel very different. There is a very distinct separate-ness between the Elgin/Fatima/pregnancy plotline and the Matthews/Jade/Victor/bottle tree plot line that underscores the town’s division of Good and Bad. Throughout this season I felt increasingly sure that Jade’s obsession with the bottle tree and its numbers was productive, that Julie and Victor needed to face their fears and follow the paths in front of them, while Elgin was making a huge mistake. But not only that, following these forces of Good and Bad made the parties involved better and worse people respectively.

Of course, Elgin was succumbing to false promises just as Sara once made a fatal mistake, but this is only the beginning of Bad-ness surrounding the Fatima situation. Boyd, riddled with reminders of his own wife’s death, doubles down on his determination to preserve his family. Blind with this, he wastes no time filling a tool bag with what he clearly intends to be torture devices. He ignores his visions of Father Khatri (another supernatural source of Good, if you ask me), and actually goes through with it, hammering Elgin’s hand and revealing bone. The whole thing made me feel icky and sad. I couldn’t believe he did it, but really, Boyd’s judgement has been slipping ever since he found out about Fatima. He kept everyone else downstairs while he did it to preserve their innocence, but they’re all bystanders as far as I’m concerned.

Meanwhile, Jim Matthews has been working on himself in a kind of shockingly impressive way. It started with Jade, who actually did heed the ghostly advice of the town’s dead bartender. He slowed down on the drinking and gave Victor’s dad, Henry, the space and wise words to open his mind to Victor and his eccentricity. Henry then paid the unsolicited advice forward to Jim, who at long last stopped yelling at anyone who dared to speak to his family. He actually joined in on Tabitha, Jade, and Ethan’s quest to decode the hidden meaning behind the numbers, held space for the inexplicable, and turned out to be the missing piece of cracking the whole thing.

Things built to a climax (or should I say crescendo) as the group realizes that the numbers correspond to music notes. Things click into place seamlessly from there, the song suddenly coming to Jade as if he’s known it all along. Jim is hesitant to play it- a valid concern to be wary of things at this point, but I agree with everyone else, they have to play it. They just have to. They decide to head into the woods with Victor’s violin and play it at the bottle tree.

At the same time, Sara finally gets Elgin to admit where Fatima is- by cutting out his eye. I’ve been slow to forgive Sara, but this actually felt like a big moment of growth and understanding. She recognizes her mistake in trusting the voices she heard back in season 1, and also recognizes that the experience has already broken her. She actually protects everyone else by slipping upstairs without their knowledge and getting the whole thing done before anyone can intervene. The team races to the storm cellar, where Fatima is in labor and the ghostly woman is pulling a nasty something (definitively not a baby) out of her vagina.

The group bursts in to find an exhausted, childless, and belly-less Fatima pointing at the open trap door on the floor. Boyd doesn’t hesitate to follow the woman down it. What he sees is crazy. It’s the tunnels where the monsters live, and they’re all gathered around the ghostly mother and the lump Fatima just birthed. The lump grows and stretches. A human figure encased in a bloody, gooey film. Finally, out comes the one big-mouthed, smiling monster that Boyd had managed to kill with his skin worms a few episodes ago.

Upstairs, Fatima breathlessly says to Ellis, “Those things that come out at night, I saw what they are. They sacrificed their children because It promised them that they would live forever”.

A lot to unpack here, but it’s given some context by the wave of understanding that washes over Jade and Tabitha. The song seems to call the ghostly children out of hiding, who suddenly now seem pitiable rather than scary. The song also unlocks a crushing recognition for the two of them. “Anghkooey” means ‘remember’ and finally, they do. Tabitha is bowled over by this realization and can barely handle it. Jim, truly being his best self in this moment, pleads with her to explain. He doesn’t understand, but he wants to, he’s listening, he’s ready to hear it.

In broken sentences, Tabitha tries: “I know why I see those children. Why Jade can see them. It’s why there’s more than one bracelet. I kept making them. Somewhere, deep down, I remember. It’s because we’ve been here before, me and Jade. The reason I felt what Miranda felt… is because I was Miranda. And Jade… Jade was Christopher. We’ve come back over and over because we failed the first time. Jade and I were here at the beginning. We tried and failed to set them free because one of them was ours. She was our daughter.”

In Jim’s defense, I also don’t really have any idea what the fuck that means. Her and Jim’s daughter? Her and Jade’s daughter? Are they both incarnations of something even more ancient? And what is this ‘It’ that Fatima said promised the monsters immortality? But it’s a season finale, not a series finale, and these are massive steps in understanding the wider mechanisms of the town. It’s been hinted at for awhile that there are things out there “worse than the monsters”, and it’s satisfying to take a step towards bringing that blurry picture into focus. The way Tabitha said it also suggests to me a clear conclusion that this whole thing is heading towards. It didn’t make sense, but it was specifc. It does mean something, and in time we’ll find out what.

I’ve also come to think that whatever this force of the town is rewards the townsfolks for being on the wrong path and punishes them for being on the right one. The monsters changed their tactics this season, playing mental games as well as physical ones, deliberately shaking Boyd and the town’s trust in him. This moment was such a big win in their quest to understand, to get home, that it brought out the thing even more powerful than them. A piece of the bigger picture- the mysterious shadow that’s been out in the woods, shaking tents and playing by rules we haven’t yet learned.

While all of this was happening, Julie told Ethan that she felt she needed to go back to the ruins, to return to the place she goes when her body goes comatose. It seems that in that place, she’s able to travel non-linearly through time. She had big ideas about preventing some of the tragedies that have already occurred, but Ethan warned her that even if she can see moments in time, she can’t change them. As usual, I agreed with Ethan (like they say on Lost, whatever happened, happened). But it seems she saw something new that made her feel like she had to try. Right after Jade and Tabitha’s emotional revelation, Julie comes tearing through the woods screaming for Jim. Terror on her face, she pleads with him to run, to get away, to get to town right now because “I think this is when it happens! I need to change the story!”.

Tragically, Ethan was right. A man walks casually towards them out of the trees. He nonchalantly warns that “knowledge comes with a cost”, ignoring Jim’s now-appropriate insistence that this man back away from him and his family. Before fatally slashing Jim’s throat, the man says the last line of the season: “Your wife shouldn’t have dug that hole, Jim”. Since Jim is the only one who heard it the first time, this last revelation is more for us than any of the characters. This is the source of the voice on the radio that Jim painstakingly had the town build- the one that preceded the punishment of a massive storm and ruining of crops. All he got out of that radio was a haunting “your wife shouldn’t be digging that hole, Jim”, and a realization that this town doesn’t play by Earthly rules. And that someone is watching.

Season 4 isn’t coming until 2026 which is frankly super upsetting, but I know I’ll be just as eager for it then as I am now. Everything about season 3 suggests a painstaking master plan, a conclusion that will have everything click into place that we got just a little taste of in this episode. And in this regard, I think a lack of popularity may just be a good thing- Lost’s fatal flaw was a network’s insistence that it overstay its welcome due to its massive popularity and profit. With no threat of that, I think From should be able to end on its own terms.

[koreandragon]

i love jung haein and whatever her name is but i feel im just gonna drop love next door. i’ve fallen behind since like the second episode and ive tried catching up but honestly i have no motivation to do so. yeah their relationship is cute but i just keep getting spoiled by gifsets and im not even mad! sad since it was one of my most anticipated releases this year but i can’t waste my hours on a drama that i don’t feel is worth it. i have too many dramas from recent years to watch. plus i’m kinda pissed that they made the second male lead an uncle instead of a single father?? the actor is literally my blorbo he was my fave in tomorrow but it just feels so cowardly not making him a single father

have you seen anything about what comes after love? i just watched the first ep last night and it felt like a breath of fresh air, i was giggling and blushing my whole way through, nearly crying multiple times.

what do you mean whatever her name is 😭😭😭 put some respect on jung somin's name???

you do what you have to do, thankfully i also found other dramas to watch next to this so i'm gonna see it through to the end. i'm also a bit pissed about making him an uncle at the end while for the whole drama they made us believe he was her dad like god forbid they show a widowed single dad trying to find love again...

i haven't heard of that but i don't think i'm gonna watch it

[sequencefairy]

(Under a cut so people can skip if they want but I have Opinions™ about some of the Watcher shows)

So, I am one of those people who stopped watching Puppet History fairly early on in it’s run. I watched the first season, and I think probably most of both the second and third seasons, and then I’ve just fallen off entirely. I was talking to a friend about why I dipped, and initially I posited that the reason was that I got busy and got behind and just never caught up, but there’s plenty of things that I miss when I’m busy and still manage to catch up on, so it’s clearly not a priority for me. 

I thought about it some more, and wondered if maybe it was the songs. I don’t like them. Never have. They’re not my thing, I usually turn the episodes I have watched off before I get to them. They give me wicked bad secondhand embarrassment, which is totally a me thing, and my own baggage, and not the fault of the show. So that’s probably a contributing factor to why I never bothered to catch up, but it’s certainly not the reason why I stopped watching, since I was quite happily just skipping them in the early seasons.

The next thing that came up has been the increase in amount, depth and complexity of the Other Story that is happening behind the puppet show about history. And to be quite frank, this is the primary reason why I think the show used to be a good show and now it isn’t and hasn’t been for a while.

PH currently suffers from the same problem that AYS has long suffered from - they don’t know what they want to prioritize in the show and so none of the competing options get the time or attention they deserve. AYS seems to want to both be funny and spooky, but Watcher already has a funny spooky show - that’s TMS. AYS should lean into the spooky aspect, but because the format demands that Ryan and Shane break the atmosphere and tension of retelling of the spooky story, it doesn’t work as a spooky show, and because, let’s face it, riffing on a horror story is not really the best subject matter for jokes, it’s not that funny either!

Similarly, PH used to be a show about history, told a bit irreverently, with a game show aspect associated so they could have a reason to have guests. It had the vibe of Ruining History, extrapolated, and I loved it. I love learning about historical events that we don’t usually hear about, especially ones that are a little salacious and a lot silly. Unfortunately, PH is now a show that is not actually about history anymore and has become a show that is about this ongoing backstory that requires you to pay attention and watch episodes in order and keep up.

This is why I don’t watch anymore. 

Even if the bulk of the ‘lore’ is kept to the ends of the episodes, they still cut in and out in the episode, so there’s no way to just watch the history bits that I like, without also watching all the other nonsense, which just feels like the hot daga with more money. At least the hot daga had the decency to be attached to the PMs, so I didn’t have to skip through BFU episodes in order to watch the show that I want to watch. 

If they want to make a show about the puppets and their rich internal lives, by all means, Watcher should do that. But like, not at the expense of what used to be one of their flagship shows, and is now something I fully ignore for the six weeks it’s on youtube every year. I don’t think I’m alone in this either, there’s definitely folks in my regular circle who have dipped on this show for reasons similar to mine, and I’m sure that means there are others out there.

I’m happy that Shane’s having fun telling this story, but I also think that because of this, the history parts of the episodes have gotten shorter and less well done and I’d love to see them re-focus and re-prioritize. If the show isn’t going to be a history lesson anymore, then fine, let it not be, but just like AYS is undercut by the way they don’t seem to be able to decide whether it’s supposed to be funny or scary, and so it ends up being neither, PH is neither a good history show or a good show about a time-travelling puppet.

[restforthe-burdenedsoul]

Feeling very frustrated by myself today

My district is on spring break which initially felt very relieving. I was going to use this week to catch up on my paperwork and do the things that I’ve fallen behind on.

Monday I couldn’t focus to save my life. Ended up in a weird episode that I can only explain by the feeling of wanting to jump out of my skin. It lasted two hours of me shaking and jumping and just doing what I could to alleviate the feeling.

Today - Tuesday - was doing fine until I realized it took me 5 hours just to do 4 new intake files. I have about 40 other files to notate from supervision and I did one and got too overwhelmed and have been crying since.

I have three more days to now do 5 days of work.

My boss and supervisor kept asking if I was taking any time off. And I would have loved to. But how do I explain how behind I was and how long it takes me to notate a file.

I was so focused today too but it still took me so long. And I don’t know why. I was doing the work. I wasn’t on my phone. I wasn’t distracted. Why did it take me so long.

And now nothing much is getting done because I’m overwhelmed and crying and I can’t take an anxiety pill bc they make me tired and they’re all I have left bc my works insurance is shit and I can’t afford to schedule an appointment for refills.

[starlight-time-machine]

Week in Review

10/06/2024 – 10/12/2024

Sunday

Week 35 of missing Cipher Academy

Undead Unluck… I’m cautiously optimistic about how this Julia arc will play out. I’m hoping that some of the Union members will fight off their respective Master Rules on their own, and then Julia can come back to save a truly unwinnable fight.

I watched Look Back in theaters and cried the entire way through. I even cried through the behind the scenes interviews, as ridiculous as that is. I just see all the heart and love that’s been poured into this adaptation, and Fujimoto’s story structure is so perfectly plotted and executed as is that it makes for the perfect movie. Everything about this story’s ruminations on art and connection just hit me so hard, and I’m so glad that both the manga and the movie exist. It’s absolutely a 10/10 and a new entry into the STM awards, and I can’t wait to buy the Blu-ray.

Monday

I won’t get into it too much because I don’t just want to spew negativity all over the place, but I’ve…kind of really disliked what they’ve done with Liella. I absolutely loved the first season, and I had felt excited about the future of Love Live for the first time in a long time…but I really didn’t like season 2, and now season 3 is looking to make me even angrier… I watched the first episode and didn’t like it, so I’m probably not going to be really watching the rest other than skimming through to see my baby girl Keke.

Started watching Sonny Boy and it’s pretty fun so far. I like that it’s not doing a Lord of the Flies thing (I think those plots are a little played out at this point), instead leaning into a more surrealist and sci-fi narrative.

Watashi no Musuko ga Isekai Tensei Shitappoi finally updated!! I’m so glad to see Doubara finally take a stand, and I really hope he can help Mio find some way to heal…

Tuesday

Started reading Zaijian no Yoake Made and it’s cute so far, just a nice down to earth sort of BL.

How long has it been, months? Since I last had a proper Manga Sunday? I’ve only had the energy to read Undead Unluck every Sunday, so I’ve fallen woefully behind on my other Shounen Jump manga. But no more! Today I’ll finally catch up!

SpyFam was whatever. The chapter introducing the Desmond butler was mildly interesting, I suppose, but it’s all still the same expected comedy beats as before.

Wow this was a good time to catch up on Oshi no Ko. I still think the villains’ motivations are too stupid to be believable or effectively dramatic, but whatever. This series was always campy and vaguely supernatural anyway, so I’ll just enjoy the ending even though I’m kind of beyond caring about the central drama at this point.

Dandadan is as good as always. I can’t wait to see how this arc turns out; it seems like the group is sticking pretty closely, so hopefully they’ll all get to participate in the fights this time.

Magilumiere fine, I’m surprised to see that the manga isn’t entering its denouement like I thought it was.

Chainsaw Man…?

One Piece good.

Wednesday

Speedran Revue Starlight El Dorado before my flight in the morning and it was pretty fun. Seisho isn’t my main oshi school (that’d be Siegfeld), but it’s fun to see them all together again and having little misadventures as they prepare for this play. I don’t know that I have a favourite route really, but the FutaKuro one was interesting for the role swap twist and the real rivalry I felt between Futaba and Claudine. And then the MahiNana one was fun because it went so out of the box of the established norms. The ending credits was really emotional and made me tear up, and I’m looking forward to playing around in El Dorado mode, but in general it was just an okay game for me. 7/10.

Thursday

I’m on vacation now so things are going to be a lot more scattershot. I did reread the Ookiku Furikabutte manga on the flight, though, and it was just as good as I remember it being. I have a better memory and understanding of baseball now, so that made the games all the more intense and engrossing to read. I love Nishiura’s team dynamics and how cute the boys all are, and how they slowly learn what Mihashi’s deal is and how to communicate with him. That tension between him and Abe is especially fun because of how their relationship affects their battery and thus the whole team, and this first major arc of the summer tournament was fantastically plotted and executed.

Friday

Busy

Saturday

Out seeing the world

[thewonderofanime]

The Ice Guy and His Cool Female Colleague Episode 8 Review

I’ve been so busy in my real life with work and binging webtoons, that I’ve fallen so behind on watching my weekly shows, including The Ice Guy and His Female Colleague. But the bright side to this is that today as I write this, I started catching up and came back to three episodes to watch. I’m taking a break between episodes to write my reviews so my thoughts are FRESH. The Gang Goes…

[erin-bo-berin]

Exiled

Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Stranger Things season 4 spoilers (specifically episodes 6 & 7) so if you haven’t seen it yet, feel free to save and come back to this

Word Count: 2.7k

So, Taylor Swift and Steve Harrington inspired me to write this little angsty fic. I’m not a huge Taylor fan, but I do enjoy her music and this song got me thinking, what it would be like for the reader and Steve to reunite after a breakup, in some sort of circumstances. This being the scene where his wounds are bandaged in the Upside Down. Instead of it being Nancy, obviously it’s the reader doing it. The entire fic takes place in those few moments. Also, Nancy and Steve never dates in this universe, just as a heads up.  I’m kinda thinking of doing a part 2 to this, cause as much as I love to write angst, I hate leaving it on such a sad note. Plus that one will be actual smut. Let me know if you’d like to see that. Happy reading!

Part 2: Trying

Stupid. He was so stupid.

He should’ve never been the one to run into danger like this—like he always does. Steve Harrington was selfless like that. It’s what you loved about him the most. 

But now, here he was, leaning against a rock, injured beyond belief. Bat-like creatures had torn gashes into both of his sides, teeth ripping into his skin as easily as a knife sliding through butter. He had choke marks around his throat where one demobat had been trying to choke the life out of him. His back was covered with deep cuts and he had endured a plethora of scratches and scrapes after being pulled quite the distance from the portal, a vine from the hive mind wrapped tightly around his ankle.

The most critical of his injuries were the bites, which were currently oozing blood and not clotting like it should be. He was losing enough blood to make him woozy, which is how he ended up leaning against the wall of rock behind him. There was no way to get him medical attention, with you, him and your group stuck in the Upside Down. 

It was you who had managed to catch him as he stumbled, making sure he leaned back safely, as you inspected the wounds, trying to determine the best solution for him until you could get him real medical attention.

It wasn’t until you happened to peer up at Steve that you saw his gaze on yours, looking down at you. His brown eyes held so much in them, beyond the current physical pain he was feeling. So much was said between the two of you in one look, so much that you wished you could say, could express, but had no idea how. Those eyes had an incredible power to make you weak in the knees, heart swell and become breathless all at once. The kind of feelings any person in love could possibly feel.

But in this moment, you felt your heart stutter and your breath catch in your throat. But this time, it was feelings of pain, of agony, of loss. It wasn’t the giddiness of true love, it was the sensation of a broken heart.

I think I’ve seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending 

You and Steve had been great, so utterly great together. He had been your best friend, your confidant, your true love. He knew when you needed a hug after a long day, he knew the little things that made you smile, he knew your passions, dreams and fears. He knew every inch of your body and still made it feel like he was just discovering it for the first time, every time. He knew how to make you laugh and unfortunately, how to make you cry. Sobs that were so deep and gut wrenching, they wracked your entire body. Sobs that didn’t even begin to echo the feeling of your heart cracking apart piece by piece. 

It had only been a month before strange things began stirring in Hawkins that Steve had broken up with you. 

You never saw it coming.

You wondered, days, weeks later if he’d somehow had a premonition of all the evil to come. 

You had begged, cried and pleaded to understand why. Had he fallen out of love with you? Was there someone else? Was it something you’d done?

It’d only been about a year since your paths had first crossed. You had managed to fall into his world—quite literally, when he caught you as you’d almost slipped and fell in the food court of the now destroyed Starcourt mall. He’d piqued your interest at that point, but even then his gentlemanly action had only been the beginning. 

You’d managed to get tangled up in a world that consisted of evil Russians, parallel dimensions, monsters no human mind could imagine on its own, a girl with telekinetic powers and a huge group of badass people who had helped save the world—apparently more than once.

It wasn’t humorous at the time, but looking back, it sort of became it considering you and Steve had gone from near strangers in a mall to falling in love with one another. Of course, that took more than the few days you had spent together initially, but something about being held hostage together and witnessing things very few other people have, had a way of bringing people together. It had been the beginning of your stars colliding.

If things were still normal, you would’ve been grateful for that experience, as messed up as it was because it brought you to him. Now, through your haze of pain, you’d wondered if you’d been better off without ever meeting him.

You’d both survived Starcourt mall, but apparently in the last weeks of your relationship, Steve’s mind had been whirring. 

Maybe he was scared, maybe he really did have a bad feeling, but he knew he couldn’t drag you into anything else that could possibly hurt you. He didn’t want to be the one to cause anything bad to happen to you. He didn’t want to lose you.

That was his reason.

It was a paradox. 

He didn’t want to see you hurt, didn’t want to lose you, yet in that one moment that was exactly what he did. He’d crushed your soul and you’d lost him.

He was too good of a guy, a protector, always the first to head into danger to protect his loved ones. Which, ironically, was how you’d ended up back in his world once again, the two of you, Nancy, Robin and Eddie currently trapped in the Upside Down fighting a new villain. 

It had been the kids who had roped you back in. You still weren’t sure if it was to help you out or Steve. It might’ve been both.

“He needs you,” Dustin had pleaded, “We need you. Scoop Troop, remember?”

You had smiled faintly at the memory. Who would’ve thought such horrific events could have somewhat fond memories?

“He hasn’t been the same,” Max whispered.

You had no idea how Steve had been doing. In fact, you hadn’t even seen him since the breakup. That first week, you’d laid in bed crying, doing nothing but barely following a tv show that was on and drifting in and out of sleep; anything to dull the hollow ache that had settled in your chest. Even when you thought there’d been no more tears left in you, more came.

If it hadn’t been for Nancy and Robin pulling you out of that hole, you might still be there, in a hibernation of sorrow and despair. Their simple act of bringing you food and a few movies to watch together, had done more than you thought it would. You were hurting, but you were slowly trying to get back on your feet. 

Until that fateful day when the kids had shown up at your door—Dustin, Max and Lucas. Trouble had reappeared in Hawkins and they wanted your help, needed it. They were also worried about Steve, who they were afraid for. Apparently his conflicting emotions and guilt were a perfect alluring combination for this new monster, Vecna, who had already killed twice, in a gruesome and horrific way.

Little did you all know that everyone had been worried for the wrong person—Max had been the prey the killer was hunting.

“Y/N,” your name slipped from his lips, breaking you from your tumultuous thoughts.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, “Let me just—“

You stopped speaking as you tore the fabric from the bottom of your shirt, trying to gather enough for a makeshift bandage to wrap around him. You could hear the other three’s voices as they spoke, a short distance away from you both, but the haze of your emotions seemed to dull your senses, as you couldn’t seem to follow what they were saying. It was as if right now, your whole world was Steve.

Even through your emotional pain, your concern for him was evident. He was in pain and trying hard not to show it, his breathing heavy and shallow. 

“You ready?” you asked, on your knees in front of him, eye level with his wounds.

“Yeah, just do it.”

You’re not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now?

You were by his side, by the kids’ side when Vecna tried his hardest to take Max. 

It was utterly terrifying to watch, but Max was a fighter and she fought like hell to get out of his grasp.

Everything happened so fast after you rejoined your friends, you hadn’t had too much time to sit and analyze how you felt being around Steve once again.

Once Max’s form came tumbling back to the earth, Lucas scooping her up and hugging her, Dustin right by her side, emotions hit.

You were relieved she was alright, relieved that she had escaped that living hell. Steve was just as relieved as you, but it was only in the high emotions of the moment that you’d realized he’d grabbed your hand, squeezing it, the relief coming off his body in waves as he inadvertently pulled you closer to his side where you’d always fit perfectly.

That moment wasn’t spoken of afterwards.

All you had wanted to do when you had dove into Lover’s Lake after him, was to rescue him, take care of him, maybe slap the shit out of him for scaring you so much. When you saw how badly he’d been beaten up, blood dripping from his mouth, you wanted to run to him, hug him, kiss him hard, just to reassure yourself he was still alive.

But you couldn’t. 

He wasn’t yours anymore.

You were my town, now I’m in exile seeing you out

You wrapped the white cloth around his torso, your eyes lingering on his bare upper half.

You’d been intimate, so of course there was nothing of his you hadn’t seen. But your eyes took in the details, the small things you missed so much.

The chest hair that Dustin relentless teased him about, claiming he needed to tame it. You’d reassured Steve that the boys were still young freshmen, they didn’t realize that one day they too might sport their own and in any case, you’d told him you liked his. 

“It adds to the rugged handsome look,” you’d halfway teased, though you’d been completely serious.

You’d love to lay your head on his bare chest, fingers mindlessly playing with the hair there. Even the feeling of it under your hands as you ran your palms over his chest, was something you didn’t realize you could miss.

Your eyes fell to the constellation of freckles across his abdomen, matching the array of them you knew were splattered all along his back. They were so attractive to you, but maybe only because they belonged to him. 

You loved the way they tapered up his neck onto both cheeks, marking him in a unique way. 

You tried counting them once, but remember losing count because Steve couldn’t stay still long enough, sending you into uncontrollable giggles. You’d even been tempted to kiss each and every one you could find on his body, but knew it would take way too long and besides, your body would usually be ready to move on to other more important activities at times like that.

You missed the feel of him, the sound of him, the smell of him. Every molecule in your body ached for him, in a different way than in its usual sexual way. It was a longing for something familiar, something it knew had made you thrive. You felt like a plant deprived of sunshine, slowly withering away without the water needed to help your roots grow and your petals to bloom.

You bit your lip, trying your hardest to be gentle, but trying to wrap it enough to staunch the bleeding. You could hear his harsh exhales, knowing it probably hurt more than he’d ever admit.

Your eyes flicked upwards and saw his grimace of pain, making you wish you could take it away from him. If it were between the two of you, you’d rather be the one hurt, just so he wouldn’t have to experience the pain. You would do anything in your power to keep him from hurting.

“Sorry,” you whispered, knowing that even if you were helping, it was probably adding to the pain.

“S’okay,” he whispered back.

You caught a glimpse of how his head tipped back, his hands running through his hair as you pulled the end of the makeshift bandage back around to a close.

He was so absolutely stunning and he didn’t even realize it. His playful demeanor often alluded that he knew he was attractive, but you’d seen those precious, vulnerable moments when you knew he didn’t believe it; those moments when you had to reassure him just how much you loved him. The poor relationship with his parents had left him more damaged than most knew, his insecurity in his belief of being loved being the biggest. 

Even though you knew the movement was made in reaction to the discomfort, your mind couldn’t help but briefly wander to other scenarios when you’d seen him just like this—but on the other end of the spectrum from pain. When you’d been in a position quite like this one, but with no injuries and a lot less clothes, praises and moans falling from his beautiful, pale pink lips as your own were wrapped around him. 

Or the feeling of your hands sliding through his hair as he kissed you. It often varied from a slow, sensual kiss, filled with all the love he had inside of him—that he couldn’t put into the right words—to the desperate, wild ones when you were just a hairs breath away from exploding into fireworks of ecstasy as he moved deep within you, ready to shatter with you. 

His hair. That damn hair. What he was apparently known for in high school, he’d told you before. It was just one more thing in a long list that you loved—love—and also missed.

You managed to successfully get the material around him, grunting as you try to pull it tight enough to stop the bleeding.

“Too tight?”

“No, that’s good,” he responded, leaning slowly back against the smooth surface of the rock with a groan, chest heaving.

He eyed the bandage, now securely around his body, his eyes flicking to yours, just as you look up at him.

“Thanks.”

I think I’ve seen this film before

His voice, breathless as it is, is so full of tenderness that it makes you wish he’d just take you into his arms, promise that everything will be okay.

But it’s not going to be. The future is unsure. Not only with the threat to the town, but with your own heart.

You know you can’t keep doing this. Your heart can’t take it. He’s wearing you down bit by bit. His beautiful face, which once brought you nothing but happiness and joy, is the worst thing in the world for you to see now. You love him too much. 

It’s only moments that your gaze is locked with his again, but you can feel every single emotion you’re currently feeling way too loudly.

Love. Protectiveness. Fear. Sorrow. 

Steve looks like he desperately wants to say something, but doesn’t know what. You could say a million things right about now.

I love you.

I miss you.

I miss us.

Please be okay.

I can’t do this.

When this is over—not this fight, but literally getting out of the Upside Down, you’re walking away. 

Maybe you and Steve aren’t meant to be. But you can’t keep torturing yourself and making yourself believe that everything is okay when it clearly isn’t. For your own sanity, you have to leave Steve Harrington in your rearview mirror. 

The thought brings tears to your eyes and he wavers in your sight, as they threaten to spill down your cheeks.

Perhaps he mistook the tears to be about his injuries, for when one escapes, his hand is right there cupping your cheek, thumb brushing the tear away as his fingers gently caress your skin.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” he assures.

You don’t know how you find the strength to find your voice, but it still cracks the tiniest bit when you answer.

“I’m not.”

So I’m leaving out the side door

[writemekpop]

Mommy Needs Some Loving Too | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Summary: Jaehyun is so busy loving your new baby, he’s forgotten that you need some loving, too. 

Genre: Husband!Jaehyun, New Parents AU, Suggestive

Word Count: 1k

Gif: @jeongjaehyuns

It’s 6PM. You’re lounging on the couch, catching up on some much-needed Netflix. 

Your eight-month-old twins Nina and Jasmine have finally fallen asleep in their playpen on the floor. 

When the leading lady and man kiss on screen, your stomach churns with jealousy. You can’t remember the last time your husband Jaehyun kissed you like that. 

You used to be the couple your friends hated because of your constant affection. But since your daughters were born, Jaehyun has forgotten you completely. You even envy your own children...

The front door clicks open, and the scent of fresh bread wafts in. You smile – Jaehyun remembered to visit the bakery on his way home. 

Jaehyun strolls into the living room, his hazel eyes crinkling as he sees the babies playing. 

“There’s my princess!” Jaehyun says, making your heart flutter. 

You reach out your arms to hug him. Only, he walks straight past you and kneels down beside the playpen.

“How’s my baby girl?”

He places a big kiss on Jasmine’s cheek, and she babbles excitedly. 

You sag, feeling like the plain Jane who no one noticed in high school all over again. You turn away, suddenly sick at the sappy sight of Jaehyun bonding with his child. 

“You didn’t think I’d forget you, did you?” Jaehyun says.

Despite everything, your heart swells.  

You turn, grinning… only to realise that Jaehyun’s talking to Nina. His biceps flex as he holds one twin in each arm. 

He hasn’t even looked at you. 

You leap to your feet, sending the remote on your lap clattering onto the floor. The noise makes Jaehyun turn in your direction. “Y/n, are you-”

But you don’t hear the end of his sentence. You storm straight into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. 

You scrape away your tears with your jumper sleeve, embarrassed that you’re crying about such a stupid thing. 

You notice your reflection in the mirror. 

That’s when you realise. 

You have deep eye bags from sleepless nights, hair that hasn’t seen a brush in days, thick thighs that refuse to slim… of course Jaehyun doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Pride bruised, you crawl under the duvet. You squeeze your eyes shut and pray you could go back your college days, when you could rock a mini dress and Jaehyun looked at you like you were the only girl in the world… 

When you open your eyes, the sky outside your window is pitch-black. Your chest pangs when you realise that Jaehyun hasn’t checked on you.  

You get up and peer into the twins’ room, the tight coil in your stomach unwinding a little when you see them fast asleep. 

Jaehyun is sitting on the couch in the living room, his damp hair flopping onto his flawless skin.

A memory of his lips grazing the wet skin of your neck as you showered together dances in your mind’s eye. It disappears before you can grasp it.  

Jaehyun glances at you. “Oh, there you are. You haven’t missed much. I’m on episode three.”

You snatch the remote from his hands and turn off the TV. 

“Hey! I was watching that!”  

You snap, “Aren’t you going to ask how I am? Or what I’ve been doing for the last three hours?” 

Jaehyun shrugs. “Fine. What were you doing?”

You smack your hand down onto the leather couch. “That’s not good enough! Jaehyun, you don’t think about me anymore! You… you spend all your time with the twins, and you never ask me how I am, or,” – your voice drops – “or if want to cuddle.”

Jaehyun’s frown deepens. “Are you yelling at me for spending time with my children?”

“No!” Your heart quickens - you don’t want yet another fight. “It’s just… I’m your wife, don’t I deserve your attention too?”

Jaehyun’s plump lips form a tight line. 

“We haven’t been… intimate since the girls were born,” Your voice cracks. “Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

Jaehyun sighs. “Don’t be silly, Y/n, I literally made a baby with you! Two babies!” He flops his head back on the couch. “I admit… I’ve not been in the mood, and I forgot how that would affect you.” 

You sniffle. “I’m not going to force you to have sex with me, Jaehyun. But a cuddle would be nice.” 

“I know…” Jaehyun turns your chin towards him, but you keep your eyes on the floor. He places a soft kiss on your cheek. 

You turn away and hug your knees into your chest. You’re not going to forgive him that easy. 

“I’m sorry, mama. You know I love you,” Jaehyun mumbles into your jumper.  “Please turn around and kiss me.” 

Eventually, you do. 

Jaehyun’s cheeks are dusted pink, and his bottom lip juts out. Carefully, you lean forwards and kiss him. Although your lips just brush, you can feel long forgotten sparks flash inside you.

The kiss becomes more heated. Your tongue slides against his, finding a rhythm of its own. Jaehyun’s arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you onto his lap. 

Kissing down his jaw, you nip at the smooth skin on the base of his neck. You’ve missed the feeling of his pulse under your lips, his hands gripping your hips tight. 

Suddenly, the piercing cry of an eight-month-old rings through the room. 

You bite your lip, failing to hide your disappointment. “I’ll get her,” you mutter.

Jaehyun nods and loosens his grip on your hips, letting you stand.

But before you can leave, Jaehyun catches your wrist. “I won’t ignore you again. Pinky promise.” He holds out his little finger. 

You wrap your little finger around his and give him a small smile. 

“You know…” Jaehyun says, dark eyes twinkling, “the girls are my princesses, but you’re my queen.” 

---

MASTERLIST

[kindredhearts13]

Let’s talk about Thony and Arman

Alright y’all, I’ll be back to go more in depth on the episodes later on (I know I’m already behind, I’ll catch up before Monday)- but I felt the need to throw in some perspective because I checked the tag today and it feels like a part of the fandom is on fire. So, here it is:

We are only THREE episodes into the second season. 

Outside of a few promotional stills and very vague episode synopsis, we do not have enough information to make definitive statements about the trajectory of this season or its characters. Everything we’ve all been sharing, including myself, has been purely speculative and only the rest of the episodes will reveal if we were actually correct. 

I’m going to break down how I’m feeling about Arman and Thony and their relationship, and where I feel like it is headed- so, that’s going below the cut:

(Also, spoiler warning: I discuss the synopsis for 2x05 towards the end w/ a labeled warning beforehand)

Okay, so let’s be honest- the in person reunion between Arman and Thony was not what most of us hoped for. It was frantic, rushed, and felt like they were both focused on, well, not each other. And the reality is: they weren’t. Whether or not most people liked Marco and Thony was already done with the marriage, her husband still died- the father of her child- and that is still going to weigh on her. It should; in fact if it didn’t, I would be really upset because that would be out of character for her. One of the biggest points of contention in the relationship before his death was her relationship with Arman- whether it was justified contention or not- it caused issues with Marco and it is currently causing issues with Fiona. Not to mention her father-in-law wanting to take Luca away and never officially agreeing to not try. Plus, her nephew accidentally killed her husband, his uncle. And to top all of that off, Luca is sick again and his body is rejecting his liver. Our girl has a lot up on her shoulders. 

And yes, last season Arman literally tried to hold the weight of it all with her- but he hasn’t exactly been as emotionally available. Plus, he is still married and has given Thony no indication that his marital status is changing anytime soon. (If he had, we would know). Though it may seem like an unimportant detail to some, Thony isn’t going t just ignore all that has happened and be romantic and gaze longingly at this man in the midst of everything she’s dealing with when he isn’t even giving her a reason to do so. 

Arman also has a lot going on- the difference is that we know and are continuing to learn how unravelled he becomes under pressure. His tone is sharp, his words are biting, and the emotionally aware part of him needs some poking before it wakes up. I’ve said it before and I will say it again: I love Arman, but he needs to get his shit together because right now- he doesn’t deserve Thony or Nadia. He keeps lashing out on people instead of actually dealing with his problems, and if the writers really take on that challenge- that should be a major character arc for him. 

In my opinion, neither of these two are out of character. The issue is that the pacing is a bit askew at the top of its second season due to a not very well established timeline. We’re supposed to expect months worth of an emotional shift in Arman from last season’s finale to this season’s premiere that truly only happened in a few weeks time. This is part of the reason why I feel like it was a mistake to kill Hayak so early on because Arman needs the ending of his relationship with Hayak and his death to really help ground this emotional journey he is on. (I’ll get more into this in my episode dissection.) 

Now to wrap: a note on 2x05

@delarosa-morales just dropped a GREAT post with a lot of excellent points, and I’m in the same line of thinking with most of them. Arman is a criminal. That hasn’t changed. Yes, he has a good heart. Yes, he has fallen for Thony and Luca. Yes, I’ve written fan-fiction focusing on his softer side because that’s the sexiest side of his character to me. But the reality is that he still did what he had to do to get ahead, and he’s desperate. So, yeah- he might do some stuff that he’s going to be ashamed of later. And I kind of think it’s brilliant to have Arman potentially betray Thony in the 5th episode of the second season because he discovered that she was working with the FBI in the 5th episode of the first. Just like that episode did, it’s going to force them to actually deal with their shit. I knew from 3 episodes into season 1 that we were going to have a huge rift between Thony and Arman, because the rift is needed to bring them back together and make them stronger- it is the basic format for these grittier shows. IF this is that rift, let’s do it and see the way that these characters and their relationships evolve because of it. 

Finally, let me say (and zero offense or judgement to anyone that does): I do not watch this or any show purely for a romantic relationship, UNLESS that show is explicitly about that romantic relationship. And we’ve been told time and time again that this show is NOT about Thony and Arman’s romance. It is aspect of it, but Elodie herself made it clear that part of what drew her to this role is that Thony’s motivations and arc weren’t based in this romance- it was secondary to everything else, in a way.

Not to say that the relationship won’t and shouldn’t evolve, but I personally don’t need romantic fireworks every single episode; so I’m not as bummed because I trust that when these intimate moments do happen (and the whole Arman acting like a shy teenage boy around his crush in front of Thony when Bosco was talking to him was definitely one of those moments); there will be for a reason and have more meaning behind them. I don’t want these characters to do something for the shock or raciness of it- I want it to happen because it makes sense for them and the story and because of good writing. So, that’s where I am. 

[stopeatingwhales]

pregnant x damon albarn

MORE DILF DAMON. this made me want to slowly die I cant it was so cute to write

Pairing: 2014 damon albarn x reader

Warnings: none :D

Word count: 1.341

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

The world around me seemed as if it was spinning at a pace more sporadic than lightwaves as I attempted to focus my gaze on the two faint red lines, which had begun to illustrate themselves on the plastic stick, increasing it’s coloured prominence after each second had passed. Those same two lines, coincidentally, provided me the answer to all the dilemmas that had been enthralled and cultivated over the past week: the consistent queasy feeling that encompassed my limbs every moment I tried to fix my body in a standing position, my guts instantly being triggered by the sudden movement that I would go and throw up - said to be morning sickness, the irritable craving for any little thing that cropped up into my brain for less than the sum of a minute, resulting in me forcing my boyfriend to journey to the corner store, purchasing the specific one that I had wanted, otherwise I would’ve gotten all fussy and made him return back to get it; as well as the horrible mood swings that would occur, provoked by the sudden increase in hormone levels displacing my demeanour constantly, remaining me a mopey mess… It was simply a fever, a cold, a horrible catch of influenza, though as soon as the realisation washed over me that I had skipped the supposed due date for my period, the ideation dawned on me, which was answered in the only way possible - a pregnancy test. Managing to get my friend to purchase one for me as I was bedridden for days on end, proving my physical inability to do simple household tasks myself due to the morning sickness that I had developed, I avoided telling Damon about my speculations, merely because I didn’t want to get his hopes up. The talk of bearing another child had been levitating in the empyrean of our conversations for a short while, mainly beginning as simple jokes, which would then mature into the statement ‘Imagine raising a child…’, though no conversations had ever progressed into concluding such dreams of doing so.

“Hiya love,” Damon said, instantly turning his head to the door as he set his eyes upon the sight of me strutting into the living room, managing to walk around without the nauseating feeling erupting in my throat for the first time in hours. He thought that I was asleep, the only times the sounds of my shuffling around audible was when I had headed to the bathroom - the place in which I had found out the newfound news that had been growing inside my lower stomach. He stood up slowly, reaching my side as he provided assistance to make my way over to sit on the sofa, beside where he was sitting, engulfed in whatever was shown on the television. Once we sat down, and he was fully sure that I was comfortable, he sat down beside me, where he had previously sat before I entered the living space. Admiring his features, I noticed that he looked tired, exhausted even; he was working extremely long, tiring hours at the studio as the release date for his upcoming solo album - tonight being his only free evening. My heart panged in my chest for the short period that my eyes laid on him, exhaling slightly as I realised that returning home to his partner being in such a temperamental state perpetually, would affect him more than he would care to admit, at all; he would be adamant that I hadn’t been making him feel worse, though by the look of his drained features, I might just have. “You alright?”

Nodding my head, I directed my vision to stare at the random episode of some antique show that had been displayed on the television. “Why on earth are you watching this?” I laughed, grabbing the remote to switch channels to something more interesting.

“There’s nothing to watch!” he groaned, though it sounded more like a chuckle laced with slight annoyance towards how bland the channels had been today. Deciding upon leaving the television on the news, not caring excessively over what was playing, I turned my head to fixate my stare on Damon, our gazes meeting. His piercing blue eyes burned straight through mine as if to telepathically question upon why I hadn’t simply called him over to our bedroom, the fatigue embraced on my features almost foreshadowing the thought that from my projected abnormalities, another thing had been plaguing my mind; something else was going on.

Stretching my arms out in the air, I filled the silence that had collapsed between the pair of us, the only sounds audible echoing out from the television speakers. “I think I know why I’ve been feeling so sickly.” I mumbled, my body relishing in the sensation of my limbs, once aching in outright pain from being stuck in one position under my duvet for many hours on end, finally fulfilling its use in movement.

“Because of your fever?” he replied, a small laugh escaping his throat at what had seemed to be such an obvious answer to the question that had been floating in the atmosphere of our minds. For all Damon knew right now, was that I was poorly with what could only be concluded as a monstrosity of a fever, and was being far too dramatic at the thought that I was going to die constantly from the overwhelming waves of heat that had kept flushing over my skin.

As I shook my head slightly, a miniscule grin casted on my lips as I set my mind on speculating his reaction to me mentioning the ultimating news that I had come across simply a couple of minutes ago. “It’s not that…” I trailed off, my voice shrinking in volume as I allowed my right hand to rest on my lower stomach, patting it lightly, giving the notion that it had something to do with my stomach. My eyes stayed focused on Damon’s expression as I watched his eyes squint together for a short while, confusion outcased across his features, my smile widening at how oblivious he was being.

The beam that perched on my lips simply grew Damon’s puzzled state even more, until realisation washed over him, to which his eyes widened, his head merely cocking to the side as he wondered whether it was appropriate to ask or not. “You’re not…”

Water began to softly brim my eyelids as my smile enlarged, exposing my teeth as I managed to lift my body and straddle Damon’s lap, taking ahold of one of his hands, so soft to the touch, lifting my shirt up slightly as I placed his hand on my lower stomach - the place in which our future child was inhabited. Disbelief poured over his expression; he was left speechless as he awaited such confirmation toward his suspicions. Placing my lips gently onto his, I held our bodies in a warm, slow, passionate kiss, goosebumps coming alive on my forearms as I allowed the salty liquid to escape from my eyes as they were closed shut. “I’m pregnant.” I said, detaching my lips away from his as I marvelled at his face lighting up with joy, his arms embracing me in another hug. Upon finding out that the option was attained, I couldn’t have been more ecstatic. There was a life growing inside my belly, a life that had been formed from such passion and affection shared between the person that I had loved most, somebody that had provided me the knowledge that you can never stop loving somebody, and the love that you have for them, grows every single day.

Both his hands began tucking fallen strands of my hair behind both my ears, eventually holding my face in his hands as I melted into his touch, his thumbs softly swiping against my now tear-stained cheeks as he brought my forehead forward to brush against his. “You are going to be the best mother in the world.” he stated, his lips connecting with mine once again.