#i always wondered about how angry we can be at someone for choosing to take their one life

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

I don’t think that it’s about whether or not Vi understood that Jinx was going to kill herself, but more so about Vi’s betrayal. Again.

If we pay attention to all the self-flagellation she spews when Caitlyn finds her, it’s about Vi choosing wrong every time. Vi only let herself free Jinx because she thought Jinx would help with everything that was going on. If anything, that’s one of Vi’s faults. She does talk about Caitlyn not trusting Jinx but Vi only does because Jinx “changed”. Their sister bond will always be there, but now there are caveats — their lives starts to turn conditional after everything they’ve gone through.

Would it be too controversial if I said that I don’t think it would matter enough if Vi knew Jinx was going to kill herself or not? She directly asks what she’s going to do and Jinx says something cryptic. At that point, I think Vi was over the theatrics, over trying to save Jinx. You can be angry at her for that, that’s completely fine, but at the end of the day, Vi has felt betrayed by Jinx so much in recent times despite trying so hard that she starts to make it her own fault. It was her who chooses to be betrayed, her who chooses wrong every time. She’s done with all of it now. Powder doesn’t exist anymore and Jinx (at that point) isn’t the person Vi wants her to be but that Vi can sees she can be.

What I’m thinking is that Vi’s anger with Jinx for never doing what she wants/expects of her despite showing that she’s changed (both of them have drastically different ideas of change for themselves and others) may have outweighed the care Vi had for Jinx that was growing tired. The whole plan at the commune convinced Vi and then she was slapped in the face with all of that (or more so punched in the gut with all of it).

It all kind of reminds me of a scene in one of Netflix’s many cancelled shows (Everything Now) that one of the characters (the guy speaking) imagines.

Jinx and Vi are both is sympathetically self destructive but in destroying themselves, they destroy the people who care about them as well. This isn’t a blame game or a “she should have known,” it’s more of a question of autonomy, how much one can fight another’s and also how much one can take in general.

Also, side note, saving Jinx was Ekko’s moment. Episode seven built up to the whole thing and it still took him way too many times for it to work.

[revelboo]

Do you ever plan to write for EarthSpark Starscream? There's a strange lack of him. No pressure to, of course haha just thought I'd ask.

I like how he was portrayed in the first season before they nuked his character 😭 (and how you write the bots from ES ❤️)

Yeah, I was so hopeful with the first season that we were going to get some character development and growth and then… yeah. Nope.

I just updated the Masterlist and just realized I’m up to 94 links there and I’m only allowed 100, so you may see me making sub-masterlists for each continuity. This one makes 95 🥲

Disaster Hearts

Earthspark Starscream x Reader

• Venting softly, his face tips up toward the night sky outside the cave he’s been using as shelter to avoid tipping off Ghost. Unable to recharge for the nightmares. In his dreams, no matter how fast or how high he flies, that massive hand reaches after him. Those brutal servos always snaring him. And what was it all for? Everything he’s suffered only for Megatron to swap sides and betray them all. To be accepted by the Autobots with open arms even though Cybertron is a burned out husk because of Megatron’s actions. The future he’d believed in, had been promised just thrown away. Where is he now, he wonders? Playing house with those human pets of his?

• Can’t stay here as his anxiety begins to crank and his wings flare slightly before he throws himself off the cliff. Thrusters igniting as he launches himself skyward. He’d convinced his other Seekers to help in his vendetta against Megatron, but then it hadn’t taken much to gain their cooperation. They’d lost as much as he had. Betrayed just like he was. Rolling lazily in the air, he thinks of that human of Megatron’s. The soldier he’d thrown them all away for. That human too closely guarded by the Autobots to get at. And he can’t understand choosing a human over his own. Hates that soldier, because really, this is her fault isn’t it? They’re all much the same, though. Little insects waiting to be crushed under his ped.

• Exhausted, your fingers flex against the steering wheel. Telling yourself that it’s only for a bit longer. Only need to work two jobs for another year or so. That’s not so long. A bit longer to squirrel away enough to escape. Get as far as possible. Maybe try for the East Coast. You’re day dreaming about that as you drive. How the salty breeze off the ocean would taste. Would the sea spray be warm or cold? Salt drying on your skin and your hair and not caring. Finally free.

• Drifting through the cloudy night sky, he spots the headlights below on the empty road. And he normally ignores the humans. They’re beneath him, but right now? Angry and unsettled? Unable to take his frustration out on Megatron or his pet, he wants to lash out at someone. Punish someone for everything that’s been done to him. It’s what makes him drop from the sky and land in front of the little car. Hears the tires scream as the car brakes sharply and he lifts a ped and slams it down on the hood before the human can hit reverse. Watches the back of the car go airborne before slamming back down. Optics narrowing when the door is thrown open and a human throws themself out, running away.

• Decepticon. Heart racing, you run for the trees hoping the massive alien can’t follow you there. Screaming as the trees just explode, shards of wood and branches raining down on you as you fall on your hip. All the fight draining out of you to leave fear. Your head turns as you struggle to breathe, feeling those heavy peds hitting the road as he approaches you. And all you can think is it’s not fair. You’ve worked so hard to escape and it’s not even your tormentor that’s going to be the death of you, but one of the alien monsters.

• Baring his denta, he looms over the small form. One human is as good as another, aren’t they? He can’t get to Megatron’s human, but if he loves them so much, sacrificed his own kind for them, throwing another one’s broken body at his peds should be just as satisfying. Servos flexing, he bends to grab you and you don’t try to run again. Don’t scream or cry. Just stare at him, eyes closing as he curls his servos around you, unresisting. Just giving up as he frowns at your almost nonexistent weight in his palm. Why aren’t you begging for your life? “Just get it over with,” you whisper so softly he almost misses it.

• And the silence stretches out, takes on a weight. Flinching when a servo nudges your head his way. You open your eyes and stare up at that frowning, serious face. Those pretty, blue optics. “It’s not that I care at all,” he says, voice little more than a growl. “But do you want to talk about it?” What? Eyes drifting to that Decepticon badging on his wings, to his too human face, and you can’t even begin to respond.

Next

[purple-obsidian]

miscommunication; option 1 (18+, dick grayson x fem titan reader)

⭓ !PLEASE READ! this is part of a choose-your-ending story. it will not make sense unless you start from here.

"No! Dick, please!" You stand from your chair, cloth napkin falling to the floor, watching him stalk past you towards the exit of the restaurant, anxiety filling your stomach with dread.

You feel frozen in place, watching him leave and disappear through the front doors of the nice restaurant. The older couple seated at the table next to you watch curiously, and you suddenly feel very aware of all the eyes on you.

Your heart feels heavy. You don’t call a cab. You can’t bring yourself to.

He probably hates me now, I can’t believe he really likes me and I just blew it.

You decide to walk home, ignoring the rumble of thunder booming overhead as you hastily exit the restaurant, before you can hear anyone else whisper about you and the scene you just caused. The rain starts just a minute or so into your long trek home.

You want to call him, but part of you thinks it may be best to wait until the morning. He didn’t seem receptive to an explanation right now, anyways. Your mind goes over the events of this evening again, through a new lense. You tear up when you remember how sweet he was. Picking you up, bringing you flowers, getting the door for you, taking you out for Italian, which he knows is your favorite. Wallowing in self-loathing and regret, you barely pay attention as your feet stomp over the discarded trash and cigarette butts that litter the dirty sidewalks of Gotham.

The rain gets heavier, soaking your clothes and chilling you to your core. People are rushing inside, getting umbrellas and trying to stay dry. Still several blocks from your apartment, you let the cold consume you. You wonder how long he’s felt like this for. His angry words echo in your mind, making you feel even more awful about yourself.

‘I really wanted this to be a chance for us to get better acquainted outside of work. I wanted to get to know you better.’

‘I thought we had chemistry. Real chemistry.’

You honestly had no idea he was interested in you. Dicks kind of a flirt, but he’s like that with everyone, for the most part. Outgoing, friendly, quick to compliment and always uplifting those around him. You try to think about your interactions with him since joining the titans. Has he really treated you any differently than Donna? Or Raven?

Hugging your arms to your body, you decide you’ll try and call him when you get home, hoping your phone isn’t too messed up from the rain water.

-————-//-————-

“So… How did it go last night?” Donna asks, a smug smile adorning her kind face.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” Dick grumbles.

Donna frowns, walking over to where Dick is sitting, his blue eyes glued on the computer screen in front of him. “That bad, huh?” She puts her hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing in a show of support. “Well, don’t worry. As soon as Wally gets here, the three of us can go get some lunch and talk about it.”

“I literally just said I don’t want to talk about it.” He retorts, shrugging her hand away.

“Don’t want to talk about what?”

A rush of air hits Dicks face and ruffles some loose papers on the table next to him. Dick shifts to look over at Wally, who somehow always manages to be late, despite his abilities.

Donna curses under her breath and fixes her hair that was disturbed by their friend’s abrupt arrival. “Good morning, Wally.” She says sarcastically. “Nice of you to join us.”

The speedster takes a seat on Dicks sofa, kicking his feet up in the coffee table and making himself at home. “You know I’ll never pass up on plans that involve food. But- fill me in, what did I miss?”

Dick chooses to ignore his friend, and focuses on saving his open files so he can shut down his PC.

“Well, someone finally asked a certain someone else out on a date.” Donna explains. She takes a seat next to Wally, still finger-brushing her hair. “But apparently it didn’t go too well.”

“Aww, shit. That’s rough, man. You've been wanting to ask her out for a while. When did this happen?” Wally asks.

“Last night.” Dick mutters under his breath.

Wally cocks his head in confusion. “I thought you and her were going on a mission last night. Some stakeout or something.”

“Why would you think that?” Dick closes his laptop, swiveling his desk chair so he's facing his friends.

“She told me. Said you two had work to do, that was two days ago, I called her to ask about Gar's food allergies. She brought it up then, I’m sure of it.”

“Hm.” Dick scratches the back of his neck, the pieces finally falling into place. “…fuck.”

"Yeah! Turns out, he's not allergic to shit. He just chooses not to eat meat. Which, hey, I mean, fair enough, right? But why does he insist of having his food cooked completely separate, a little cross contamination never hurt anyone..."

“Diiiick…..” Donna draws out his name in warning. “How did you ask her out? What did you say, exactly?”

“Over text.” Dick anxiously unlocks his phone, hastily pulling up his last text conversation with you.

Donna holds out her hand expectantly, and Dick begrudgingly hands it over. The amazon’s eyes quickly read through the message history. “Dick, you know how she is, you have to be more clear with her. She totally thought you were asking for her help with a mission.”

“What?” He grabs his phone back, and re-reads it for himself. “What are you talking about? I even said ‘it’s a date’. Look, right there!”

“Yeeeeeaah, I’m with Donna on this one.” Wally chimes in. “You say that all the time, Dick. You’re a flirt. How was she supposed to know?”

Dick glances between his best friends, a look of exasperation in his face. “Oh, come on! You can’t seriously read that conversation and tell me I was not crystal clear with my intentions!”

“Maybe not, but you know how clueless she can be sometimes.” Wally argues, relaxing back into the couch. “Remember a few weeks ago? At the bar? That one guy with the hat was flirting with her all night and it went right over her head.”

Dick groans, holding his head in his hands. “Fuck, I need to go talk to her.”

“Yeah, you do.” Donna agrees sympathetically.

“Does this mean no lunch?” Wally asks, visibly deflating in disappointment at the change in plans.

Dick taps on your contact photo in his phone to call you. He tugs his jacket on, cursing again when it goes straight to voicemail.

-————-//-————-

A familiar knock on your door startles you, causing you to jump a little. You were on your computer, trying to make an appointment with your cell phone provider to see if they can fix your waterlogged phone that's buried in a bowl of rice next to you.

You look in the peephole of the old wooden door just to be sure, and your stomach does a flip when you confirm that it’s Dick again.

“Hey. I’m glad you’re here.” You open your door wide for him, your heart hammering in your chest, hoping he’s willing to hear you out. “Come in.”

Dick says your name, closing the door behind him, and reaching for your hand. “I owe you an apology.”

The sincerity of his tone eases a bit of the nervousness you’re feeling. “Yeah, me too.” Squeezing his hand a little, you look down at the floor, trying to find the right words to say. “Dick, I’m an idiot. I realize that now. I thought you were asking me out to help with Titans business, I didn’t even realize-“

“I know.” His voice is pained and apologetic, reflected also in his expression.

“I probably sounded so shallow, when I said I was up for an all-nighter, I didn’t mean-“

“I know.” He says again, entwining his fingers with your own. “I’m at fault here too. I never should have asked you out via text. Too much room for misinterpretation. I was so nervous for our date, I wanted everything to be perfect, and... I’m not proud about how I behaved. I shouldn't have left you there alone. I’m sorry.”

You let out a relieved sigh, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “Dick, I have so much respect for you. And I enjoy your company, I really do. But I legitimately thought we were there to meet someone or follow a person of interest. If I would have known-”

“Then let’s start over.” He smiles down at you, tilting your chin up with his finger so his ocean blue eyes can stare into yours. “I like you. A lot. I want to take you out. A romantic evening, just you and me. So we can get to know each other better. How does that sound?”

“That sounds wonderful.” Your voice is quiet, but the excitement in your eyes makes Dick’s heart soar. Its the look he was hoping to see last night. “I’d really like that, Dick. I promise I’m into this, into you, and not just because you’re hot.”

He chuckles, letting his hand fall to cup your neck. “For the record, I’m not opposed to pulling an all-nighter with you.” His hand feels warm against your neck, and you feel that fluttering sensation in your stomach again. “I just… I think there’s something more here. Don’t you?”

You answer him with a nod, keeping your eyes on his. “Yeah, I do.”

Your heart beats faster, seeing him lean in slowly, his face gets closer and closer to your own. You let your eyes flutter shut and lean forward to meet his lips in a slow kiss. His touch feels electric, sending goosebumps up and down your spine. You release his hand and go on your tiptoes so you can snake your arms around his neck. His own hands find your waist, pulling you closer while his mouth moves against your soft lips.

After a minute or so, lightheaded from both lack of air and excitement, you break off the kiss and look up at him, trying to keep yourself from smiling too much. "I'm so glad you don't hate me. I thought I really fucked this up."

Dick caresses your cheek and laughs under his breath. "Well, you can be a little dense at times. But I'm glad we could clear the air. I tried to call you earlier-"

"Oh, yeah. My phone got wet. It was raining pretty hard last night."

You gesture towards your coffee table, where your phone is barely visible in the glass bowl of dry rice.

"Please don't tell me you walked home all alone." Dick sounds disappointed, searching your face for confirmation.

"Okay... I won't tell you, then."

"You're stubborn as hell, you know that?"

Dick notices a sparkle in your eyes as you reply, his arms keeping your body pressed against his. "Dense, stubborn, and yet... you still want to take me on a date."

"Yeah," He says back in agreement. "I do."

⭓ go back ⭓ masterlist ⭓

which ending did you choose first? let me know here, or leave a like/comment.

don’t steal my work. don’t repost it somewhere, upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

[olderthannetfic]

I don't get my fandom. They want more queer rep. The main cast is a bisexual femme woman with a preference for women, an aroace gender-indifferent AMAB man, a genderfluid all-pronouns using AMAB person with a beard who wears a dress, and a biromantic asexual bigender AMAB man who is agender + male. The supporting cast has a lesbian girl, a middle-aged ace het woman living semi-romantically with another woman who is the main cast's (emotional) adoptive mom, and a ambiguously queer character whose gender is never really confirmed or discussed.

A big criticism I also see is "the writing team is all cishet". One, we don't know that, someone could be closeted. Two, why is that a problem? I think it's great that they went, "this makes sense for who this character is. We don't have to force them to be cishetallo just because that's what you normally see in animation. Web animation can be different. This is who this person is and that's fine."

I'm 19. I talked to my half brother, who is 38, about this and he actually choked on his coffee. He said when he was my age, nothing like this was easily accessible for him. It would have been jaw-dropping representation for him. I asked about the writers being cishetallo and he said, "who fucking cares? I would've moved Heaven and Earth to see these characters hanging out and just fucking existing back then!"

I know you get a metric fuckton of asks, but I'd love to hear your take on this. You've been in the queer community way longer than I have (I've barely started interacting with queer people IRL; I grew up in rural Wyoming) and I do wonder what this debacle looks like to people in other age groups. I'd also be curious to know what older people would've thought if they'd seen this friend group in media when they were younger. I know it means a lot to me. But I feel like I don't get what it would have meant back then.

--

Well, written up like this, it might get an eye-roll for sounding like Captain Planet casting. (You know "One of A and one of B and one of C" in a way that feels kind of forced.)

But yes, I think most older queer people when looking at the actual canon would be like "Sweet! A cast full of queer characters!"

I grew up somewhere shockingly liberal for the 90s next door to some old, married lesbians (who still live there, as it happens). It still sucked for teenagers. I had an okay time, but I was always hearing about other teens having an awful time even as the adults in the same communities did okay. And that's a very, very good version of what it was like in the 90s.

I did have access to queer media, vastly more access than most teens had. It was still mostly art films, boring coming out memoir, and The Pain of Being a Minority serious literature. What I wanted was genre fiction with a romance b-plot between queer characters I found hot. There was a bit of that, but not much.

I don't know that I personally would have killed for the exact set of queer rep in a modern show, but that makes sense. There are plenty of identities that present about the same but where people have internal reasons for choosing one or another. There are different forces making one queer identity or another more embattled at a given point in time. So while broadly similar queer people have always existed, there actually are fads in identity to an extent. (This is different from "wharrgarbl, the blue hairs with their pronouns!!!", which is just people being ahistorical assholes.) Modern media does and should reflect these differences. It might be for me, but it's going to be for 40-something me, not teenage me if it's coming out right now. If it's for current teens, it's not for teen me.

But yeah, in a general sense, I agree with your brother: "Damn, we have so much today! That's cool!"

The kvetching is usually people being angry that it's not representing their exact slice of queerness instead of someone else's. Or, let's be honest, a lot of it is "You didn't make my ship happen! How dare?!" dressed up as activism.

...

One thing I will say is that teenagers were extremely dramatic in my day too, and black-and-white thinking was just as common. Looking a gift horse in the mouth is not new. Yes, your fandom is full of idiots, but I wouldn't read too much into it.

[notmorbid]

the berry pickers.

dialogue prompts from the berry pickers by amanda peters.

dying is something we have to do alone.

i want to be my full self for you.

whatever makes you happy makes me happy, too.

i'm not sure what's true and what's not anymore.

you never know when you might need kindness from people.

you see anything strange around here?

age brings all sorts of fears.

i think i've always known something was out of place.

you'll grow out of it. you'll forget.

sometimes i wonder if you have any sense at all.

don't worry. they can't hear us.

your only job right now is to be a kid.

when no one's looking, you can be a sweetheart.

it's funny how old you think your parents are, when you're a child.

stop trying to grow up so fast.

there are things more important in this world than taking credit.

there was love, but none of us knew what to do with it.

don't pretend you didn't hear me.

i will try my damnedest not to be sad.

it's hard, looking for someone who can't be found.

you never know what your last words to someone are gonna be.

words are powerful and funny things, said or unsaid.

some people are meant to read great works, and others are meant to write them.

you do love me, after all.

you're jealous. i need you to admit it.

i did what i thought was best: i left.

you seem taller, somehow.

hope is such a wonderful thing, until it isn't.

i never blamed you.

it's not your fault. it just happens, sometimes.

i guess i assumed i'd just wake up one day and everything would be normal again.

i've done my grieving. i can't do it anymore.

some wounds never close, never scar.

i just want to get away. you choose where.

make sure you write everything down, the good and the bad. but mostly the good.

what ghosts haunt your dreams?

are you going home, or leaving home?

sometimes i forget that you're hurting, too.

swearing can make you feel better.

anything you want to tell me?

there's something to be said for salt air.

i love you. i'm sorry i've been so far away.

i've never felt worse. i need you to know that.

i assume the universe knows what it's doing.

getting better isn't easy.

i was convinced the pain would haunt me for the rest of my life.

i was determined to let my pain and anger ruin me.

you like to find fault with everyone but your own self.

you have no right to hold onto that guilt all by yourself.

i'm sick of tiptoeing around you like you're going to break.

don't be sorry. be useful.

i've never been much of a talker.

it's not fair to be young and weak. there's no fairness to it at all.

prejudice runs deep and offers no apologies, in small towns.

you can't stay mad at me.

i didn't sleep because i was worried about you, asshole.

maybe i'm just one of those people who are only happy when they aren't.

it's not that i don't remember. it's that i don't want to.

why do you always assume you're on your own?

i remember. i didn't think you did.

people are always saying nice things about the dead, especially when their family is in the room.

sometimes a lie becomes so entrenched, it becomes the truth.

you never deserved anything i did to you.

the only person i have a right to be angry with is myself.

it wasn't because i didn't love you.

you know of any work i could get around here?

i wonder, sometimes, what i did to deserve it.

you got a story?

you seem too young to have a story of any interest.

something is making you all dark and moody.

what are you doing out here? there's a storm coming.

i don't go giving my name out to every stranger i meet.

people seem to need to get away from me.

own your mistakes. make amends and move on.

you feel things too quick and too heavy. you need to let things go, sometimes.

i'm here. it was just a dream.

i kind of hoped i would die before i had to tell you this.

i wanted to hate you, but i couldn't.

anger and sadness are just two different sides of the same coin.

time is never a friend to the sick or the old.

i don't like to see people i might know.

how are you still alive?

the lord must keep me around to amuse himself.

where is home, for you?

what's at home that's got you afraid to be there?

the only misery you're causing is your own.

i'll be honest, because i don't know how else to be.

don't worry. i'll remember for you.

i ruined myself all by myself.

i prayed you would come home to us.

what on earth have you got to be sorry for?

tell me about ___. if it's okay.

lost souls have to find their own way home.

i don't think i've ever laughed that hard in my life.

[underoossss]

Driving Lessons — S.H

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

warnings: none

masterlist

4k

an: hi everyone! here’s a new fluffy fic for you. best friends to lovers goodness to brighten your weekend. I dedicate this to everyone who like me was terrified when they learned how to drive and those who don’t drive bc it’s scary af. steve is just so sweet and perfect and I think he’d be a wonderful teacher specially if he has a crush on you. I hope you enjoy! Pls let me know if you liked this!

The doorbell rings just as you finish getting ready. It’s a sunny summer morning and you decided to fight off the heat with a white dress with tiny pink roses printed on it, a denim vest and converse. You check the clock by your bed and as always Steve is right on time.

You’d woken up with a start this morning from a terrible nightmare you don’t want to think about. Steve had an angry wound on the side of his abdomen and was in no state to drive. He needed your help, but you don’t know how to drive, so you were helpless to do anything else but to press his own t-shirt against the wound. The same desperation haunted you all through breakfast and gave you the push you needed to face your fears. Driving. You’re going to learn, no matter how much panic it causes you.

That’s why Steve is here, you called him earlier and agreed to meet here at noon. And punctual as ever, he’s already waiting on the porch. You heart drums loudly inside your chest, excited to see your friend, your best friend, and object of all your affection. Though no one needs to know the last part.

You open the door, and the pitter patter of your heart gets out of control no matter how much you try to remind it that he’s your friend. Nothing more. Steve looks sun kissed by the summer sun and beautiful as always, with various freckles standing out across his face. Broad shoulders in a white t-shirt and light washed jeans that fit him just right, his old Cortez shoes and usual brown watch. You hate him, and you love him so much.

“Hi Stevie.” Your smile breaks free as you greet him with a hug.

“Hey you.” Steve’s smile is clear in his voice as his arms go around you. It’s a tight hug and soon enough, he’s lifting you off the ground and spinning you around.  

You laugh as he sets you down on the ground. “Someone’s happy.”

“How can I not be? I’m spending the day with you.” Steve smiles brightly, “What’s this you have to ask me? Got me nervous all the way here.”

You shake your head; how can you not be crazy about him when he’s so damn sweet with you. You decide to tackle his question instead. “Why would you be nervous?”

 “I wasn’t sure if we need to hide a dead body.” He shrugs.

“Not today.” You play along with a fake frown and smile when it makes Steve laugh. A moment later you turn shy under his gaze when it lingers on your face. “Okay I called you because I need you to teach me how to drive. Please.”

“How to drive?” Steve’s eyebrows shoot up towards his forehead as his brown eyes widen. “You got tired of me already sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the nickname, and hit his shoulder softly; Steve takes that same wrist and holds on to swing your hands between you. It endears you and makes you love him a little bit more, it’s only noon. “You hurt me.” He says all drama as always.

“No, Stevie.” You tilt your head towards your shoulder, choosing not to tell him about last night’s nightmare. “I just want to learn in case there’s an emergency or something.” When Steve’s eyes soften, you look away.

“Okay,” He says quietly, then tucks a rogue strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want to start right now?” Steve asks you, completely unaware of the fact that you’ve stopped breathing.

“God, no. I’m scared.” You shake your head, trying to ignore the way your heart hurts at his soft gesture. “I was going to suggest ice cream first.”

Steve smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulder pulling you to his side as he leads both of you to his parked car in the driveway. “Alright, ice cream first. You look beautiful by the way.”

You lean your head on his shoulder and shake his head. “Is this you trying to get me to pay?”

Steve only laughs and rolls his eyes.

“First things first, seat belt.” Steve glances behind you with a nod of his head. The two of you are sitting in his car, but while he’s always in the drivers seat, he’s the passenger today.

You turn around and bring the seat belt across your torso before it clicks into place once fastened. “Okay.”

Steve scratches his chin and you watch for only a second before looking ahead, no distractions. “Now, adjust the mirrors; you should see everything with the rear view mirror and the front door’s handle with your other two. I’ll move this one for you.” He reaches out of the car and brings it forward a tiny bit until you nod.

“Alright that’s good.” You do the same with the one on your right before wiping your hands on your dress. You take a shaky breath and look back at Steve. “Now what?”

Steve’s grinning when you meet his eyes and shakes his head briefly. He nods towards the keys hanging from the ignition switch. “Now you turn on the car.”

Panic bubbles deep in your stomach but you nod anyway, pushing through the many anxious thoughts in your head. This is why you never made it past a single lesson during driver’s ed, your fear. What if you crash the car, hurt someone, hurt Steve? You’re grateful that your hand doesn’t shake when it turns the key, bringing the car to life.

“Hey,” Steve says, and you look over at him to find him smiling at you. “You’re doing great.”

“Thank you, Stevie.” You swallow down the rising panic inside your chest as you look at the steering wheel. At least Steve’s car isn’t mechanic. Steve points at the pedals by your feet which makes you focus again.

“Right one’s accelerator, and the left one’s the break.” Steve explains. “The car’s in park now so it won't move even if you hit the gas.” He looks up at you to make sure you’re okay to go on and you give him a half nod. “If you break and change the gear to Drive, then it’ll move.”

“What?” You ask him when he glances at you expectantly.

Steve motions to the gear stick behind the wheel with his head. It’s time, you guess and swallow hard, pressing down the break pedal and shifting the car to drive. You can feel your heart pounding in your ears, and your hands break a sweat. Trying to push through though, you take your foot off the breaks and accelerate slowly, but it only seems to make your panic worse. The car only moves about 8 feet before you stop and put it back on Park, shutting your eyes tightly. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Steve reaches over and shuts down the engine before turning towards you. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He asks you softly, a hand on your shoulder. It rubs down your arm gently and grabs one of your hands from the steering wheel. “Talk to me, what happened?”

“I’m sorry I panicked.” You confess, keeping your eyes shut. “This is scary.”

“Okay.” You open your eyes to see Steve nod, gaze full of concern as it meets yours. “Want to tell me what scares you?”

Taking your seat belt off you turn towards him and rest your forehead on his shoulder. “Stevie, what if I crash your car and we both end up hurt.”

You feel Steve take a deep breath and his hand let go of yours in favour of running up and down your back. “That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that.” You mumble with a shake of his head.

“I do.” Steve counters, pushing on your shoulder gently to look into your eyes. “We’re only going to turn right and drive to the dead end, nothing crazy. No cars will hit you, babe, you know it’s a quiet road.”

You look out the windshield towards the road in question. No one ever drives by, just the three homeowners who live in the dead end, but they’ve already left for the day. If that’s the only practice you’ll have today, you think you can manage to keep your fear in check.

“There we go.” Steve smiles triumphantly when you nod in determination. “Ready?”

“Yes.” You click your seat belt into place and turn on the car.   

Just as Steve promised, you only go back and forth from your house to the dead end. He’s patient and gentle as he gives various instructions, when to break and when to accelerate. He guides you through the u-turn and how to back up when you mess up said u-turn. The initial paralyzing dread fades to manageable nerves as 45 minutes go by, and smile when Steve gives you a knowing look.

“Feeling more confident?” He asks as you park in your driveway once more.

“Yeah, a bit.” You let out a deep breath and nod.  “I know I’m safe if I’m with you, Steve.”

“You are.” Steve mirrors your nod and clears his throat, then motions towards his door. “Come on, let’s switch. We’re renting a movie so you can relax.”

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

“Stevie, it’s so early.” You mumble, opening your front door at 6am on a Saturday. You look up at him, he looks just as sleepy as you but handsome as always. His hair is a mess of chocolate waves, and the light blue polo he wears with his jeans looks great on him. An outfit so basic shouldn’t look so good; it’s his shoulders you think, they make those damn polos look gorgeous on him.

“Well, you’re the one scared of driving.” Steve’s voice brings you back to the present. “If we go right now, the streets will be all yours. It’ll help with your nerves.”

“I’m sure, it’s the crack of dawn during summer after all.” You joke, sleepiness slowly leaving your body. A smile takes over your face at Steve’s sheepish expression and you can’t help but lean in for a hug. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“You know, people aren’t supposed to look so pretty at 6am.” Steve says, stepping back and meeting your eyes. You heart drops to your stomach for a moment at his words and you look down at your clothes. Black denim shorts, converse, and a sweatshirt.

“You really need some glasses, Steve.” You chuckle, bumping your shoulder into his as you walk towards his car.

“My eyesight is perfect, babe.” Steve gives you a wink that leaves you flustered and trying to understand what’s happening. “Come on.” He places the keys to his car on your hand and opens the passenger door.

Steve lounges back on his seat, pointing towards the direction he thinks you should go. He tells you when to break, what to do in an intersection and the roads you should avoid at a normal hour. Like he said, all of Hawkins is asleep and there’s not a single car on sight as you drive through the town. He was right, the nerves and awful dread you felt the first time you tried to drive his care are gone as you drive the empty streets; no one’s gonna hit you because no one’s here. The radio stays off though, you’re not a professional yet and the music only distracts you. There’s no way you’re crashing because you were singing to Blondie.

“You’re doing amazing.” Steve says, and you control your reaction to his praise. Knowing you’re doing a good job makes you feel giddy inside, so you glance at him quickly with a smile. “Pull into that parking lot right there. I think we can practice parking today.”

“Okay, good cause there are no cars for me to run into.” You joke, looking at Steve and laughing when he frowns. He doesn’t like you doubting yourself, right. “I’m kidding, Stevie.” You check your mirror, and turn the blinker on before you make a turn towards the parking lot. The concrete floor is deserted and fifty-something empty spaces stare back at you.

“Now what?”

“Okay,” Steve sits up straighter and rubs his chin, deep in thought. You can imagine the way his eyes light up when the idea finally comes to him. “Now you have to sort of turn away from the parking spot then turn back in.”

It sounds like gibberish for a moment before you go over his words and catch on to his explanation. Still, how can you pass up an opportunity to tease him?

“Real good explanation, Steve. Super clear.” You chuckle with an eye roll. “But I think I know what you mean.” Following his instructions, you drive the car towards the right before turning left and moving between the two white lines in front of you. At least that’s your intention, but what you end up doing is driving over one of the lines –taking two spaces.

“Come on don’t make that face, it’s your first try.” Steve shakes his head taps the dashboard. “Check the rear-view and backup. You got it.”

You do as Steve says and try to park on the spot next to you, turning a little more to the right so when you drive into the empty space, you’re perfectly parked in between both lines. “There! I did it!” You cheer, putting the car on park and turning to Steve. “Ha!”

He’s smiling too, celebrating this small win and high-fiving you. Steve’s fingers intertwine with yours and keep your hands in his hold, giving them a tight squeeze. There’s happiness and affection shining in his eyes –brown and beautiful and a little sleepy from how early it is– making your blood fizzy under your skin and your body feel like it’s glowing. There’s no one in this world like him, someone who is your cheerleader and makes you feel this happy and safe. And in love.

But the glint in his eye tells you he’s going to say something; you definitely missed something. “You didn’t check the right-side mirror babe; a car can come from your right, and you could’ve crashed into them.”

“Ugh!” You lean you head back on the headrest and look at the roof. Defeat washes over you, there’s so many rules to this driving gig; just when you think you’ve got it right, it’s actually the opposite. Your hands cover your face. “Fucking mirrors.”

Steve laughs next to you, a warm and beautiful sound that wipes away your frown as he shakes his head. His hand takes one yours again a moment later and gives it a squeeze. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Glancing to your right at him you feel your heart dance in your chest at his soft smile. His eyes dance around your face in a way you can’t really describe, and it flusters you beyond words. You smile at him though, ignoring the acrobatics your stomach is performing and the feelings rising to the surface once more. He’s your friend and he’s helping you, nothing more. Don’t make it something it’s not.

Steve is the one who breaks the moment first, eyes going back towards the dashboard. His hand lets go in favour of motioning towards the steering wheel. “Come on, let’s keep practising.”

“Can we go get coffee after?” You ask as you spot the sun beginning to rise in the distance.

“Anything for you babe, you just gotta learn how to park.” Steve settles back on his seat and you look out your window to bite back your smile. He’s got to stop talking to you so sweetly.”

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

“Can they please stop honking!” You mutter. The burning orange of the setting sun is shining through the trees and painting the dark asphalt in front of you as you drive by. It would be beautiful if not for the car that’s been tailgating you for five minutes now. To say you’re frustrated at the incessant sound of its honking would be an understatement, you’re sweating buckets, and you can hear your pulse in your ears. Your shoulders are tense and pulled tight towards your ears and there’s nothing you wish more than to arrive to Steve’s place. “Stevie.” You plead, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Ignore them, you’re doing great.” Comes Steve’s easy response, but he still checks the rear-view mirror and glares at the car behind you. “Of course, it’s some dude in a truck.” You hear him mutter as he shakes his head.

“I’m sweating, I told you I can’t drive on this road yet.” You complain, rolling your shoulders back to ease the tension. “But no, you had to insist.”

“Well, you had to eventually, babe.” Steve shrugs leaning towards the window and looking at you. Then after a sigh, he adds, “Nothing’s going to happen, relax alright.”

Another loud honk helps you do the opposite.

“Tell him to fuck off.” You groan, glancing at the truck behind you. Great now he’s flicking his headlights at you. “I’m literally driving at the speed limit.”  

Steve shakes his head and motions to the road ahead, where the lane splits into two. “You’re fine, look, he can drive past you now.” Right on cue the truck accelerates and drives by, letting you breathe. Your shoulders sag, and when you spot a dinner in the distance you finally relax. There’s no way you’re driving the rest of the way.

“Okay, you’re switching places with me. I’ll try again tomorrow.” You announce after a sigh.  

You turn the blinker on, and perfectly park on a free spot before shutting off the car and getting out. You look at the setting summer sun and breathe in to calm down, at least you made it halfway to Steve’s. Even the shirt you’re wearing feels stifling and your back is sweaty, so you take it off, which leaves you in a black tank top. “That made me age like 70 years.”

You look to your left and find Steve looking at you in that way you both hate and secretly love. He’s leaning against the car, arms crossed in front of him, and his eyes have gone soft. They linger on you, like he loves watching you, like you’re his favourite sight. But is it him or you projecting that? What does that mean, Steve, what is this look? You shake your head and look away; he always looks so handsome in the golden hour, you can’t catch a break. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, stop apologizing.” He rolls his eyes, sounding exasperated but fond as he offers you a hug. You’re quick to step into his arms and relax against him, you stand no chance when it comes to Steve. He calls and you’ll always answer. Though you wish for nothing more than to bury your face in his neck and breathe him in, let yourself melt against him, you don’t. That it would be weird and you’re just friends. “You, okay?”

You nod against his shoulder and hug him tighter. “Yeah, I just wish I didn’t get so nervous.” It’s been like this a few days, you stopping and getting out of the car; it’s frustrating and a big blow to your confidence every time. “

“You know I don’t mind driving you, right?” Steve mumbles against your hair, his thumbs rubbing circles on your lower back. “If this is stressing you out too much we can stop, I’m happy to drive you anywhere.”

“I know that, Stevie.” You whisper as you close your eyes, deciding to tell him about your dream. “But I had a nightmare the other week, we were in the middle of nowhere, you were really hurt and I couldn’t drive you to the hospital. It was horrible but it made me realise if that happened, I wouldn’t be able to help and I don’t want that.”

“Babe.” Steve sighs, his hands pressing firmly up and down your back. “That won’t happen, it was just a bad dream.”

“I know, but in the off chance that it happens, I want to know that I can help you, Stevie.” You say, shutting your eyes tightly as the image of a hurt Steve comes back. There’s no way you’re losing him over something as simple as driving.

“Alright, we’ll see this through then.” Steve breathes out, holding you for a moment longer before he places a kiss to your temple and steps back. His beaming smile is back on his face, to ease your nerves, you’re sure; it works. “Let’s go, the ice cream’s going to melt. Good job today.”

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

“Are you sure?” You ask Steve on a Monday morning, one month of practice later you’re ready to take your driving test. Steve Harrington is offering you his car for the test.

“Of course, babe.” Steve shrugs and hands you his keys. “Let’s go get that license.”

You want to smile at him, thank him for how wonderful he’s been but there’s a sadness creeping into your heart and it casts a shadow over your joy. No more lessons after today. Steve is probably sick of you already. You, on the other hand, don’t want this to end, you want to spend more time with him. Hell, you want to spend all of your time with him. Steve notices your frown and steps closer to you, his hand reaches for yours.

“What’s wrong?” A gentle squeeze.

You let go of his hand and lie. “Nothing, I’m just nervous.” With a half-hearted chuckle you leave his side and walk towards his car. “We should get going.”

The drive towards Hawkins High is quiet, with you concentrating and ignoring your aching heart and Steve looking out his window. It’s still early and the town is quiet around you when you drive by. You’ve come so far since your first day and this is where it ends, with you coming closer to Steve after all those hours spent together –something you didn’t think could be possible. Now you’re trying to think of excuses to continue the driving lessons but come up empty handed. Maybe this was all a mistake, the worst mistake, for now your feelings are all over the place and the words I’m in love with you are on the tip of your tongue.

Your favourite song comes on the radio, and you don’t pay it any mind; you can see Steve look at you in surprise from the corner of your eye. Then, because he’s wonderful, the most wonderful and caring boy, he reaches for your hand and squeezes it tightly.

“Hey, I know you’re scared.” He says gently, “And I know me saying this doesn’t help but…”

Steve takes a deep breath, and you squeeze his hand again before he continues. “I’m not lying when I say you’re ready, so please relax this is your favourite song.”

With a quick glance at him, a grin breaks free and soon you’re laughing as Steve turns up the volume and sings loudly. “There’s a room where the light won’t find you! Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down!”

You laugh and smile and sing with him, letting nerves and aborted confessions slide off your back for now. “When they do, I’ll be right behind you!”

The two of you continue to drive like that, happy and carefree and clutching the other’s hand –like you’re unwilling to let go– until the song ends right as you arrive at the high school. Your smile is replaced by a frown and you glance at Steve as you spot the evaluator. He’s a middle-aged man wearing a plaid shirt and khaki pants, black rimmed glasses are perched on top of his nose, and a mustache sits over a deep frown. “He looks so grumpy.”

“Well, it’s 9am on a Saturday.” Steve says simply, “He probably hates you.”

Your eyes widen and you glare at your friend. “Steve!”

When he laughs you shove his shoulder and roll your eyes. Leave it to him to be a jerk when you’re already nervous. “Get out, the faster we’re done the better.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve turns on his seat to face you and his hands move to hold your face. Your next breath catches on your throat at his actions as you look into his lovely brown eyes. They’re full of faith in you, encouraging you with only one look. “Good luck.” He whispers as his thumb rubs at the apple of your cheek. Brown eyes drift down to your lips, and Steve’s face leans the tiniest bit closer to yours. Is he going to…?

Then just as fast as it happens, he’s stepping out of the car; you feel the ghost of his touch burns your skin. Not a moment later, the evaluator gets into the car.

“Seatbelt.” You mutter, watching Steve’s retreating figure head towards the bench by the entrance. Is there a tiny chance that Steve feels the same way about you?

“Let’s start.” The man next to you grumbles, snapping you back into action.

Your mind is half present on the test and half wondering about what just happened. Following your usual route through town, you come to a conclusion. Of two facts you’re absolutely sure. One: You’re hopelessly in love with Steve, and a moment ago you thought he would absolutely kiss you. The other, well the man sitting next to you hasn’t said a single word since the test started. His only instructions were Just drive. And so, you drive. Every time you try to ask something he shakes his head, so after a few turns around main street, you go back to the school.

You heave a sigh as you parallel park and shut down the engine. “Well?”

“Passed.” The evaluator hands you a slip of paper with your test without another word. You don’t care as you thank him quickly and run out of the car, towards Steve.

“Stevie!” You yell, meeting him halfway as he run towards you, and waving the piece of paper frantically. “I passed!”

“Babe! I told you so!” His arms are around you a moment later, holding you tightly and lifting you off the ground just like the day your quest for a driver’s license started. You hold onto him just as tightly, laughing against his shirt as he spins you around. “Told you, you could do it!”

When you’re back on the ground and look up at Steve, the same joy you’re feeling is shining back from his beautiful brown eyes. All the same emotions including love, in the very same way it sparkles whenever you’re looking at him. Your best friend who’s also so kind-hearted and amazing, and so devastatingly handsome, you never stood a chance against falling for him. This is who you love, who you want. The man who woke up at 6 in the morning to teach you how to drive, who chased off your fears and cheered on your wins with hugs and sweet milkshakes; the one who never once lost his temper, no matter how much you messed up. Steve who let you use his car.

“It's all thanks to you.” You whisper, hand going to his cheek and drifting upwards towards his hair. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“You know I would do anything for you.” Is all he says, his voice matching yours.

You nod, smiling a teary smile when your emotions overflow. “I love you so much, you have no idea. And I know it’s stupid but I don’t want to stop spending all that time with you just ‘cause I passed my test.”

“I think you don’t know this, but,” Steve smiles disarming you in a second as he leans closer to you. “I’m crazy about you, babe, I want to be with you all the time.”

“Really?” Your voice is breathless as you lean closer.

“Would I wake up at the crack of dawn just to see you, if I didn’t?” His lips are so close to yours you can feel your breath mingling. Then after a pause, he whispers softly, “I love you.”

Leaning up on your tiptoes you close the gap between you and kiss him. It’s a short press of lips before Steve’s hands hold your face to kiss you better, angling your faces in the perfect way to deepen the kiss. He takes your bottom lip between his, your hands run through his hair, and the brush of his lips is as soft and as urgent as you dreamed they would be. How many times have you imagined this exact moment and still be so unprepared thing. Kissing Steve is wonderful, it’s perfect, it feels like drinking stardust and glowing from within. You can tell how much both of you have wanted this from the overwhelming emotions threatening to consume you; the fact that it’s taken you so long makes you giggle against his mouth.

“What?” Steve asks against the corner of your lips, unwilling to pull away.

“Nothing,” You shake your head, stepping back and looking up at him. “I’m just so happy.”

His gaze goes impossibly softer as he looks at you, “Me too.”

A long moment later, you steal another kiss because you can, and take Steve’s hand. “Celebratory breakfast?” “You got it, beautiful.” Steve says, eyes unable to contain his affection towards you. He leads both of you back to his car, swinging your hands between your bodies. “You’re driving.”

reblogs are appreciated💖 motivate an unmotivated writer pls

[fuckyeahizzyhands]

Con O'Neill interview with Awards Radar's Steven Prusakowski 😭😭😭❤❤❤

SP: Busy time of year, but, you know, starting to slow down in just enough to hang out with the family and do all the cooking for, like 48 hours and then.

Con: Are you the main cook in the house?

SP: I am the main cook.

Con: Yeah. So am I. I love it.

SP: I love it, too.

Con: It's my go to place.

SP: Yeah.

Con: Because when I left school, I trained to be a chef.

SP: Oh, wow.

Con: Briefly. Another story.Okay, let's rock and roll.

SP: Well, that passion never leaves you, I think. I think once you start, especially when someone enjoys and says, hey, I really liked your food.I hear from my daughter's friends or their parents, she loved your pasta or whatever it was, I'm like, okay, now I'm...

Con: It's the best feeling, isn't it?

SP: It is. It's wonderful.

Con: And just that kind of inherent, nurturing thing of just going into the kitchen empty handed and coming out with a meal for people is really rewarding. And I love it. It's intoxicating. I absolutely love it.

SP: Same here.

Con: Because I travel so much, I don't always get a place with a kitchen. And that's why I always try and get an apartment when I'm filming because it just gives me a place to be in my head that isn't about work.

SP: Yeah. Yeah. Well, I can talk cooking forever, but-

Con: But we should.

SP: I know we're short on time and I have a ton of questions and I won't get to all of them. So let's just jump into the series and maybe we could pick it back up. Sorry to interrupt, but I love the series. I love your character and your performance.

Con: Thank you.

SP: It's a stellar, and there's so much to Izzy that we see on the surface, but there's so much more to him beneath. How was this character originally pitched you and what did you initially want to bring to him?

Con: The thing about this character was he wasn't in the pilot. So when I spoke to David about it, there was nothing written. So he explained it in very broad terms. But then I quite like specifics when I'm choosing projects. And kind of... he brought up Salieri from Amadeus, and I really hooked into that. Now, I don't know whether we went that way with it in the end, but it was a really good hook for me because Salieri is that guy with a mission who is on the surface wanting, but is underneath something else. And I think initially, Izzy was that, but then we exploded him in several other ways and Salieri diminished to something else. But it was a good hook for me

initially to get in by thinking about Salieri.

SP: Yeah, I like it. I could see that for sure. And to start the season two. So going into that, he's a shadow of himself from this feared, intense, strong man to a broken man. And what was it like taking this character and exposing that humanity and starting to peel away some of that shield.

Con: I mean... David had spoken to me before we started shooting and explained most of the hulk to me, and I'd always played Izzy as a man who was in love but didn't know he was in love. And for me, the key into this season was a. the design, but more importantly, was the Taika's performance. To see a man that I love to be that broken and to be that vicious because of the heartbreak, it was profound for me to see what he did with Blackbeard, and it did break my heart a little bit. So the emotional journey was quite clear that at the end of the day, all hatred of Stede had left him, and all he wanted to do is fix Blackbeard, and he risks his life to do that. He literally puts himself on the line for that because, like always. And what I loved about what David and the writers did was they didn't remove Izzy from season one in season two, he's still there. And what Izzy does is about the crew. He puts his life on the line because Blackbeard is killing his crew, and he risks it all for that. But it breaks him seeing the the man he loves so fragile and broken and angry, it breaks him. So, It wasn't an easy job. It was quite a lonely job. It was quite a difficult job because it was going down that path that I knew inevitably we were going to go down. But I thought it was beautifully written. So most of what I needed to do was on the page, to be honest-

SP: -I'm sorry-

Con: I just had to throw myself into it.

SP: Excellent. And then with Izzy being broken and literally broken, he loses his leg, which is symbolic of much more. It leads to one of the most touching moments of the series, a note with four words: For The New Unicorn. What did that mean to you, and what does that mean to the character?

Con: You know, I've been talking a lot last couple of days - because I'm allowed to now - and, you know, this season is about Izzy coming out. In many ways, he comes out, but that moment, that rest, that beautiful piece of writing again, the writing, where the crew embrace him, and it just releases him. It releases him from his own concept of who he is. It releases him from his own concept of who he has to

be to be a first mate and a brilliant first mate. It released him of concept that he's alone. None of this would have been possible to Izzy pre season one, none of it. And in many ways, it's Stede that brings this into his life. Because before Stede, Izzy never thought of his relationship with Blackbeard as a loving relationship. He never thought of it as being in love. He only realizes he's in love with Blackbeard when he sees Blackbeard lose Stede. That's the only... The reveal is he's heartbroken because the man he loves is broken, and he doesn't know what to do with any of that. He's not emotionally capable. And the crew giving him the letter and calling him the new unicorn and releasing him from all the stuff that he'd done, all that pain that he'd suffered and anger that he'd raged upon them, it's a really accepting moment. So... yeah, I'm waffling a bit now, but it meant a lot, and it was a very beautiful moment to play. And I thought Andy, who directed it, directed it so...Andy was a real shoulder for me to lean on in those scenes, because a lot of those early scenes I'm shooting on my own. And it's quite difficult to play an emotional narrative when you're on your own, because it tends to just be one tone. And he was wonderful, and Alyssa and Alex and all. They were all wonderful in helping me gauge those moments, as were the rest of the cast. But, yeah, that moment touched me enormously.

SP: You know, you have this love triangle that is never really spoken, but it's there.

Con: Yeah

SP: Then it kind of shifts - it's almost like a love square. It's Ed, Blackbeard, Izzy and Stede. And where the love, you know, crosses, it's all... or the hatred is at sometimes, but then it evolves...

Con: Absolutely.

SP: It's so complex.

Con: I mean we all're in contemporary language. We always associate love with romance. That isn't the case here. The love that Blackbeard and Izzy have for each other is deep, man. It's deep, and it's rooted in years of working together, loving each other, saving each other's lives, being constant. This is probably the only constant they both had in their lives, is Blackbeard is Izzy, Izzy is Blackbeard, and then they have this buffoon come in and steal Blackbeard's heart. It's not that Blackbeard falls in love with someone else. Blackbeard falls in love with this guy. This Izzy just can't comprehend, and it's a constant. And then once, I think once Blackbeard hands him the gun, everything changes. And Blackbeard says, kill yourself. Everything changes. And then there's an openness to Stede and Blackbeard that brings him to that place of acceptance-

SP: -It's great to watch also. I'm sorry. Go ahead.

Con: No, that. I mean, I'll waffle again. I'll waffle a lot, because that's what I do. But the more I think about that relationship, the more I go down all these different avenues of what it could have been, and what it could never have been, and what it is and what it wasn't. And as you say, it's layered and complex, and I'm honored to have been able to get to play with those actors, and especially with Taika, who's a profoundly good actor - everyone talks about Taika's director and writer - the man's a fucking great actor to work opposite, and he's... he's exquisite. So, yeah, I could only go where I went because the writers and Taika. Really.

SP: That's great. I... of course, we have to touch upon the end of the season and the end of Izzy, unfortunately, which I'm hoping is not. I'm hoping David has something up his sleeve. But what was your reaction when you learned it and how emotional was shooting that final scene? Because that final scene says a lot between...

Con: It was a... listen, I've been around a long time. The writing was on the wall when I started to read the scripts, and David had kind of hinted at it anyway when we went out for the famous dinner where he told me what the plan was, and I was gutted because I loved playing him so much. But, yeah, narratively, yeah, it makes sense. And I have complete faith, respect, love, admiration for David Jenkins, and whatever he thinks or wants to happen in season three will be the right thing if he gets season three, which I, whether I'm involved in it or not, I really hope he gets it, because he deserves it. And the show deserves it. The show deserves its triangle. It deserves it. But, yeah, it took a few days to sink in, and then I was fine. I was incredibly tired by that time. And I was lonely, as... really lonely because I was so far away from home filming all these scenes, and I tended to isolate when I was filming because of the nature of the work. So when I wasn't filming, I was sword training, or I was working out, or I was learning to walk on that fucking leg, or I was whatever whatever whatever. So I found myself isolating a lot. And in a way, it was a relief to be released from it. The final scene David had sent to me several weeks earlier. And I prepped, as I always do, and I prepped and I prepped and we were going to shoot at the beginning of the last week, and then it got shifted to the middle of the last week, and then it got shifted to the morning of the last day, and then it was shifted to the last thing we were going to shoot in the entire season. And there's always a dark cloud around those scenes because you never quite know how it's going to play. And there's a lot of pressure. And it being the last thing we were going to shoot, put more pressure on. And we were on the ship, which is a huge set, hundreds of crew members, the cast, everyone who could possibly be there was there. And I was getting quite unsettled by the amount of cacophony of noise and people. And then we rigged it all up, and it was still just [noise]. And then suddenly it was just me and Taika and just saying goodbye to a character we both fell in love with. And it was... it was a, I'm saying 'profound' a lot, but it was a profound experience doing that scene because everything else disappeared. It was just me and him. It was just Izzy and Blackbeard. And it was a lovely lovely moment.

SP: It was painful, but-

Con: It was lovely to be held by-

SP: -beautiful to watch.

Con: Yeah. Thank you. I mean, it's lovely to be held by another actor just... creatively and likewise with me to him. And David had a playlist playing and it was... elegant to do. It was nice to do. It was a nice, fitting ending to that chapter of this character. And I'll always be grateful that they shot it in that way.

SP: I do have to wrap. I just want to say before we do, I really enjoyed your rendition of La Vie En Rose. fantastic.

Con: Thank you.

SP: That's beautiful. And I appreciate all the work you did in the series, and I hope we see you again. And hopefully maybe you'll have a cooking show too, along the way, because I'd love to see what you make in that kitchen.

Con: Come on and let's bake together. Oh, I can't bake. I'll cook. It's lovely l ovely talking to you, Stephen.

SP: Great talking to you as well. Have a great day.

Con: Thank you. Bye bye.

SP: Thank you.

[lyraa-kill]

Sick and Twisted Bastard

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 l Chapter 5

Tags: Stalker Simon "Ghost" Riley, Trans John “Soap" MacTavish, Top Simon "Ghost" Riley, Bottom John "Soap" MacTavish, Dom Simon “Ghost" Riley, Sub John "Soap" MacTavish, Stalking, Consensual Non-Consent, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, johnny can't make himself cum, Kidnapping, Knives, John is okay with Simon's stalking, John is a little freak too, Voyeurism, Hidden Cameras, Bondage, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Spanking, Painplay, Internalized Transphobia, Self-Harm, Murder, They really match each others freak, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Biting, pussy slapping, Face Slapping, Blood, Choking

——

Johnny has been living with Simon for two weeks now, meaning the end of their combined three week leave is up. He tries not to think about it, but he can’t help but wonder what will happen. Is this whole thing temporary, will he be forced to go back on base and resume his job? He hopes not.

He’s proud of being Sergeant MacTavish. He fought tooth and nail to get out of his home and become the man he knew he should be, and made a damn good name for himself too. But it wasn’t him. He never wanted any of that, he only did it because he had no other options. He was forced to be someone he knew he wasn’t all over again. Sure, it was better because at least this time he was a man, but it still wasn’t him.

He knows what he wants now. He wants to be Johnny. He wants to have a small, quiet little cabin with Simon and spend his days doing what he chooses, not what he’s being commanded by a superior to do.

Now, his head lays on Simon’s lap as they cuddle on the couch, a movie playing on the TV. They’ve been doing a lot of that. Laying around, watching something. Occasionally taking breaks to eat or fuck. Johnny’s happy at finally being relaxed, but it’s getting quite boring.

He shifts his head to look up at Simon. “Can I ask you something?”

Simon runs his hands through Johnny’s Mohawk. “What is it baby?”

“We’re due to go back to base soon. What’s gonna happen when we don’t show up?”

Simon smiles down at him. “Don’t worry about it. No one will bother us to come back.”

“But-“ Johnny gets interrupted.

“I took care of it, Johnny.” Simon leans down and gives him a peck on the forehead. “No one will bother us. Just be good for me and don’t worry about it, yeah?”

Simon’s a bit nervous for when he eventually has to tell Johnny what he did. The man has always tried to minimize civilian casualties. He’s a protector of the innocent, and Simon had to kill and dismember two very innocent people to fake their deaths.

It was hard to find two people similar enough to their body shapes to kill. Even then, Simon had to behead them and cut off any body parts that would be a tell-sign that the bodies weren’t really them. He had to hack up the rest, leave their IDs at the scene and whatnot. He thinks he faked it pretty well, if he has to be honest. He’s seen his fair share of murder scenes in the past and tried to replicate it as best as he could, for both their sakes. Him and Johnny both would have either drowned in their own misery or been killed in combat if they stayed.

“Alright,” Johnny sighs, turning back over to look at the TV, “I trust you.”

Simon smiles and kisses Johnny’s hair. As he looks down at his perfect boy, he knows he doesn’t regret a thing he did. He can already see how they both are healing, becoming more themselves than they thought possible. Simon is less angry, less closed-off, finds himself wanting to be alone less and less. He discovered that he loves to laugh. He loves to be held and cuddled and treated softly and gently. He never knew that about himself, because no one had ever done it before. Now that he’s had a taste of it, he’s not sure how he ever lived without it.

That monster and creature, the Ghost, he had been forced to be is fading. It’s no longer clawing at his insides to escape; it’s asleep and quiet. Maybe the claw marks it left will always be there, but eventually it’ll be gone for good. All thanks to Johnny.

Johnny no longer cries every night. He did for a little bit, but Simon was there to help him through it. The scars on his legs are healing and fading away, no new ones have been added. Though, that’s because Simon locked away any sharp objects so Johnny couldn’t get to them. The only one that will be leaving marks on him is Simon.

They watch the TV for another half hour, both of them not really watching but focusing more on each other. Eventually, Johnny turns back around.

“I think I want to draw. Paint. I don’t know.”

Simon hums and smiles down at him. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. Always wanted to. I drew all the time when I was a kid. Got yelled at, so I hid it for a while. Couldn’t really do it while I was enlisted and whatnot. But… I’d like to now. I always really enjoyed it.”

“I can get you paper and pencils if you’d like, Johnny.”

Johnny nods. “I like writing too. I used to keep a journal on me before my dad found out about it and burnt it. I wanna do it again.”

“I can buy you a notebook too.”

Johnny nuzzles his face into Simon’s stomach. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course. I want you to be happy, baby. And if that will make you happy, then I’ll gladly do it for you.”

Johnny smiles as he looks up at Simon. “What about you? What do you like?”

Simon cocks his head. “What do you mean?” The only thing he can remember ever being passionate about or wanting is Johnny. In fact, the only thing he can remember remotely liking is him.

“Is there anything you wanna do? Hobbies? Activities?”

“I think my favorite activity is you, love,” Simon teases, kissing Johnny’s forehead and making noises like he’s pretending to eat him.

Johnny laughs, pushes Simon away, then says, “I know that very well by now you insatiable fuck. But… I want you to be your own person too. I want you to be someone outside of me. I want… I want you to be Simon and me be Johnny, and be our own people while also being in love with each other.” Johnny cups Simon’s face. That perfect, devastatingly handsome face. “I wanna know Simon. I wanna know what you’re interested in, what makes you laugh, what your feelings are, what your thoughts are. I wanna know you. Not Ghost. Not whatever you’ve been told you should be.”

Simon tears up a little bit, but manages to hold him back. “I want that too,” he says, “just as long as Johnny can belong to Simon.”

“Of course,” Johnny says back, “As long as Simon can belong to Johnny too.”

Simon smiles and kisses Johnny, on the lips this time. “Of course.”

They lay there and kiss for a while, eventually Johnny finding his way into Simon’s lap so he doesn’t have to keep bending over. The kisses don’t feel sexual, like they’re going to lead to something else. They only say “I love you. I love you so much and I want to know you and be with you”.

Simon breaks the kiss apart. “I’m… I’m honestly not sure what I’m passionate about. I never had a hobby or interests growing up- I think. I can’t remember my childhood. It got tortured out of me along with most of my humanity. And afterwards, I was Ghost. The military didn’t need a guy that wanted to be a person and pursue what interested him, they needed a weapon. So that’s what I was. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“Yes you do,” Johnny says lightly, his face mere centimeters from Simon’s.

Simon furrows his brows in confusion.

“You do know how to be something else other than Ghost. I’ve seen it. You love making stupid fucking dad jokes about the army. Every Tuesday at 5pm you find time to sit in the common area and watch that show you like. I always catch you whittling at pieces of wood when we’re camped out and waiting for an enemy.” Johnny strokes the side of Simon’s face. “Maybe you havent found yourself fully. But I think you will. And I think you’ve found more than you think.”

Simon softly smiles and nuzzles his face into Johnny’s hand. “Thank you.”

Johnny kisses him again, gently and passionately. Maybe it’s a bit of an oxymoron to want them to belong to each other and also be their own person, but it makes perfect sense inside their heads.

They break apart and smile into each other’s lips, laughing a little bit. Johnny peppers Simon’s face in kisses before saying “I’m so happy you love me back.”

Simon laughs and holds Johnny’s hands that are cupped over his face. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re perfect.”

Johnny kisses him one more time on his forehead before saying, “I was just scared. No one’s ever loved me before you. I would have little crushes on guys in school and they’d always reject me because they either wanted a girl or they wanted a real man. I was expecting you to react the same. I also… thought that you were out of my league a little bit.”

Simon kisses Johnny fiercely. “Never. I’ve only ever seen you for who you are, Johnny. You’re a brilliant, beautiful man. Doesn’t matter to me one bit what you got between your legs. I love you, so I’ll love whatever’s down there too.”

Simon can’t imagine a world where he doesn’t love Johnny, which makes it hard to understand Johnny’s old fears. Loving him feels as intrinsic to his being as, well… breathing. Blinking. His heart beating in his chest. He hadn’t thought of the idea of ending up with a transgender man, hell, he had only ever heard of trans women before he met the guy. But that hadn’t mattered to him. Johnny is a man, and Simon is in love with him. What parts he did or didn’t have didn’t change that fact.

Johnny’s heart skips a beat as Simon says those words. God, he’d been waiting to hear someone say that to him since he was 14 and got rejected for the first time. He’s laid awake at night dreaming about a man feeling that way towards him, until eventually he stopped dreaming and gave it a rest, declaring himself forever single.

Maybe he never really stopped dreaming.

“I love you too, Simon.” Johnny says, “And I haven’t said it yet, but by god you’re right bonnie too. When I woke up and saw you laying on me that first morning you took me here, the first thing I thought about was how gorgeous you are. You’re fucking devastating to look at.”

Simon is all smiles. He never thought he’d feel good about being called beautiful, but hearing Johnny‘s words makes his heart sing.

His face would be unappealing to most. He has a big nose with a bump in it, downturned eyes, and his lips are thin. Not to mention the scars that adorn his cheeks and chin, making him look like a mottled beast. But Johnny likes it, loves it even. Maybe he is beautiful after all. Maybe it doesn’t matter if everyone else thinks he’s ugly. Who cares if no one would want to see him on a magazine cover? Johnny loves the way he looks, and really, that’s all that matters to him.

“I remember when I first saw you on the tarmac after getting off the plane,” Simon stars, “it felt like all the tendons and fibers in my heart were attaching themselves to you. I think I made a plan that night to hack into the base’s security cameras so that I can keep an eye on you all the time. And I think a week later was when I went into your room to watch you sleep and steal your underwear.”

Johnny laughs. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

Simon smiles. “Yeah. But I don’t think you mind it very much.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Simon grips onto Johnny’s hips as they start to kiss again, forcing him to grind down on him.

“Fuck-“ Simon grunts, “I can’t remember how many times I jacked off to pictures I took of you when you were in your room, the shower, on missions…”

Johnny laughs into his mouth. “I’d love to see those pictures sometime. I gotta make sure I look pretty.”

“You always look pretty.”

They go back to kissing, Johnny grinding his sore cunt down into Simon’s hardening package. He has no idea how two men in their thirties are able to fuck so many times a day, but for some reason he’s been insatiable, like his body hasn’t got the memo he’s not 16.

Simon deepens the kiss, deeply breathes in Johnny’s scent, then snaps and throws him onto the couch on his back. He climbs on top of him and covers his entire body with his own. He loves how much bigger he is than Johnny. It makes him feel like he can shield him from the entire world as long as he’s in his arms.

“Sure your cock ain’t broken yet?” Johnny teases, “You’ve gotta be shooting blanks after this morning.”

Simon growls and bites down on Johnny’s neck. “You cannot comprehend how much I need you all the fucking time. It’s not possible for me to go dry around you.”

Johnny gasps and digs his nails into Simon’s back through his shirt. “Your dick is gonna end up killing me, Si.”

“You can take it,” Simon says, “I’ll make sure you will.”

Johnny bites down on his lip as Simon starts to add more bite marks and hickeys to his neck, joining the ones left there from that morning.

“Yeah? Gonna fuck me till I can’t think?” Johnny breathes, “till I can’t walk or open my eyes? Don’t think you can.”

Hearing that, Simon wraps his hand around Johnny’s throat and squeezes, cutting off his air supply. Johnny’s hands fly to Simon’s wrist to try and take it off, but it’s a futile struggle. His legs kick, but they can’t move very much under Simon’s body.

“Not so cocky anymore, are ya Johnny?” Simon teases, his mouth curled into a wicked smile. “Can’t be such a little shit with my hand around this pretty throat of yours, huh?”

Johnny struggles to get out words as his vision starts to get a little fuzzy. Even though Simon is more than capable of killing him right now, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on in his life.

Simon releases his grip, but keeps his hand on Johnny’s throat. Johnny gasps and huffs as his face starts to return to a normal color and his vision becomes clearer. He smiles.

“Do it again, Si.”

Simon slaps Johnny across the face as his hand slowly starts to squeeze again. “Who knew my boy was so dirty? Who knew John MacTavish was a little fucking slut that likes to be smacked and choked?”

Johnny smiles as his vision starts to fog up again. He wants to say, you knew. You knew I liked this and I needed you and that’s exactly why you’ve done all this.

Simon smacks Johnny across the face one more time before he takes his hand off his neck so he can take off his pants. Honestly, he doesn’t know why he bothered to bring clothes for either of them. They just seem to get in the way.

It’d be much better if Johnny was naked and on display for him all the time, like his little trophy.

“You think a little bit of choking and smacking is gonna do me in? I don’t think so,” Johnny laughs, trying to egg Simon on so he gets harsher, “You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

Simon grunts and rips off Johnny’s boxer briefs, which are now soaked with his slick.

“I think these pants of yours tell a different story,” Simon grins, “How ‘bout I use them to shut your lying mouth up so your other pair of lips can tell me the truth, yeah?”

Simon shoves the underwear into Johnny’s mouth, the taste of himself flooding his taste buds. Fuck. He never thought being forced to taste himself would be such a turn on for him.

Simon shoves three fingers into Johnny’s hole, making him scream through the gag and grip onto the couch. He’s still pretty relaxed and loose after that morning, but taking three of Simon’s thick fingers with no warning still made his cunt burn and ache. He’s starting to fall in love with it.

Simon jackhammers away at Johnny’s cunt, his other hand wrapped nicely around his throat. He isn’t choking, just telling Johnny that he better behave, or else he knew what was coming. Although, the promise of being choked would probably make Johnny act up just so he could get it. There really is no way to punish his boy.

Well, actually, there’s one way.

Simon keeps abusing Johnny’s poor hole, until he sees the signs of his orgasm coming up. He stops just before the moment of climax, making Johnny writhe and buck his hips to try and chase his hand.

Johnny’s eyes widen. So they’re going to play this game again? That’s fine. He can take it, no problem. Edging really isn’t that big of a deal. Or at least that’s what he tells himself so he doesn’t have to admit to himself that his defeat is imminent.

Simon laughs. “Not so cocky and bratty now that you know I’m not gonna let you cum, huh?” Simon slowly strokes Johnny’s cock, making him twitch. “I’ll make you break, boy. You’ll be a mindless begging slut here soon.”

Johnny smiles through the gag and shakes his head.

Simon tears his hand from his throat and smacks him across the face, then backhands him, then puts his hand back where it was to choke him as hard as he can. Red prints in the shape of Simon’s hands are starting to bloom on his face. Simon loves seeing his marks on his boy, although a piece of him wishes they were more permanent. He’s sure there’s something he can do to satiate that craving.

Simon shoves his fingers back in, relishing in the way Johnny’s body twitches as he starts to fight for air. He loosens his grip on Johnny’s neck and lets him breathe as he really starts to pound away at him again. He doesn’t want to hurt him, after all. Just rough him up a little bit.

Just as Johnny reaches the edge again, Simon takes away his fingers. Johnny whines through the gag as his eyes start to water. Fuck, he really hates edging.

“Aww, are you ready to stop being a fucking brat, Johnny?” Simon coos, his voice demeaning.

Johnny thinks that Simon has to be a fool to think he’ll give in that easily. He shakes his head and spits the gag out. “In your dreams, Si.”

Simon sneers and quickly pushes Johnny onto the floor, grabbing his arms and pinning them to his back.

Deep down, Johnny knows he’s going to give in. He doesn’t even really want to be a brat or a little shit, he just likes when Simon gets rough with him, and being an ass is the best way to get it. He really could just ask, as he’s sure Simon would do anything to make him happy, but that’s not nearly as fun as watching him get angrier and get more violent with him because of it.

Simon spanks Johnny with as much force as he can give, which is a metric fuck ton. Johnny gasps and his back arches from the pain. Fuck. That felt like it’s going to bruise his goddamn bones.

“I know you want my cock. And you’re not gonna get it until you start apologizing and begging.” Simon spreads Johnny’s legs apart and cups his cunt with his hand, then smacks him as hard as he can.

Johnny yelps and releases noises he has no control over as Simon lays down more smacks to his throbbing pussy. His body is twitching and turning in ways he couldn’t stop if he tried, involuntarily trying to get away from the pain unleashed on his most sensitive area.

When Simon relents, Johnny is a twitchy mess with drool pouring out of his mouth. But he’s not completely mindless yet.

Simon shoves four fingers in, stretching Johnny as wide as he’s ever been. His cunt is gushing around the digits, trying to suck them in and keep them there so he can cum. As Simon fucks him with just one hand, the other raining down smacks to his ass before gripping onto his hair to pull his head back, Johnny’s tongue lolls out of his mouth and his eyes roll back into his head.

“Dirty fucking bitch,” Simon grunts, “should tie you up with a nice dildo and vibrator and leave you there for a few hours. That’ll teach you not to be a fucking brat.”

Johnny shakes his head and pushes his ass into the air.

“Want- want you Simon, please,” he says.

“Is that begging, Johnny?” Simon asks, taking his fingers out just before Johnny can cum, “Are you gonna be my good boy, then?”

Johnny nods. “Y-yes, good boy- good boy just f���you, fuuuuck.”

Simon smiles as he lovingly caresses down Johnny’s sides, admiring his bright red ass and dripping cunt.

“I know you are. You’re always my good boy,” Simon says, leaning down to kiss Johnny’s shoulder blade, “You just like when I get rough with you, yeah? Think you gotta be a brat to get it?”

“Mhm,” Johnny hums, incapable of speech.

Simon laughs. “I know, baby. I know you better than you know yourself.”

Johnny nods again, because he knows that fact is unquestionably true.

“You’ll get what you want. Gotta make my boy happy, afterall.”

Simon grabs his cock and lines it up with Johnny’s hole, and pushes it in with no resistance. He’s buried to the hilt in a matter of seconds, his fingers having done a good job to loosen his boy up.

Johnny whines as he’s filled up again, a dumb smile appearing on his face. Simon grabs his arms and pins them to his back again, his other hand grabbing Johnny’s hair and tugging his head back.

He starts to fuck into him, not bothering to be gentle at first. His boy can take any abuse Simon puts him through.

Johnny sees stars and the light of heaven as Simon pounds away at him, making the burning in his core dissipate and instead replacing it with the best pleasure he’s felt in his life. He can’t think, can’t speak, can only lay there and take it, let himself be used.

This is what he’s been needing his entire life. Someone to treat him softly, take care of him, treat him like the special and fragile thing he is, but also know when he needs to be beaten and fucked within an inch of his life.

“Look so pretty like this,” Simon grunts, “I love seeing you become my little plaything, baby. Love seeing you be my good little boy.”

Johnny nods as drool continues to dribble out of his mouth and down his chin. His body tenses as he start to cum, squirting all over Simon’s legs and the floor, but Simon doesn’t let up. He continued his brutal pace, sending Johnny into the waters of overstimulation and making him even more brainless than he was before.

Johnny cums twice more before Simon finishes for the first time, but Simon is just as insatiable as him, and once is not nearly enough. He has no idea how many times he’s climaxed when Simon relents. He doesn’t even know what his own name is or where he’s at.

Simon pants heavily as he pulls out of Johnny’s sopping cunt. He watches as his cum leaks out of his hole and mixes with the literal puddle of Johnny’s cum spread over the floor.

He smiles as he admires the way Johnny lays there, boneless and nearly passed out. A state of being that only Simon can put him in.

He has absolutely no regrets over anything he’s ever done, because all of that has brought him here, admiring his fucked out boy that makes him happier than anything else on the planet ever could.

[gryphis-eyes]

⊙ ἀγάπη, for you my true love

× who's your next girlfriend~

♤ Welcome to this pick a card~ im kinda doing this pac to celebrate the fact that im finally at peace with my sexuality (and I think that's exactly why I always feel conflicted about the love pac Ive done in the past lol) but I think we deserve more wlw in pick a cards. The person that will be represented in those piles can either be a cis woman or identify as a woman, Ive included the whole ’female spectrum”. In this pac I'll use the myths surrounding the dragon I'll pick to represent your next girlfriend to channel her personality and life story, hope you'll enjoy

Also it wasn't the intention but i did rant sometimes about myths don't worry i'm angry when it comes to dragon slaying lol

♤ Deck used : "oracle des dragons" by secret d'étoile & Illuminated Tarot (dedicated to Apollon, thanks for the gift of divination ⊙)

little note ; i only used court cards and major arcana, it is better to identify someone.

○ Masterlist

Choose a picture of my wife, Marie ;

♀ Pile 1

【Cards】 Tarasque & Dreki + The Sun

The first thing that came to my mind are those people who are really fond of the image of the divine feminine maybe it's something that trully changed their life and view of themselves for the better. She totaly got the vibe of a fertility goddess maybe she is even worshipping one, this woman truly feels like Hathor or Brigid because i've eard "she is like Hathor but in a forest". Please do take care of this sun goddess, this isn't a sun that burn but a sun who nurture and deliver a comforting warmth. Being blessed by their love is like being a cat laying on its back bathing in a warm sun ray (lucky you).

It's funny because the two dragons that represent your next girlfriend aren't your typical dragons, they both don't have wings, they're peaceful unless disturbed and don't seek conflict (yes im on the side of the Tarasque fuck those peasants) in this oracle they're called Dreki and the author went on their interpretation of them but it's actually referencing to Lindworm who are dragons that are closer to snakes and who aren't dangerous at all as they feed on dead bodies or random animals. But for those two dragons, once they've encountered men Humans they're instantly considered a menace due to their appearance. The Dreki, as described in this oracle is a dragon that is almost invisible due to their closeness with nature and wilderness by that i can imagine that your next girlfirend is probably shy but i do think it's more about reservation wether they started doing it because of how the world treated them or just because it's their nature. Honestly i'm pretty sure that for most of you, your futur girl is so close to nature some are probably witches or at least worship nature or a deity/spirit who represent the element of earth, the forest and fertility (it can go from Artemis to Demeter or just the fairies). She is very patient and nurturing, probably have the cosiest home you'll ever go to or she has the power to make anyone feel cosy, i know she gives wonderful hugs but you have to deserve them because~

Let's get to the Tarasque side, you can consider it a dark side but i honestly think it's something she's grown into, the Dreki feels like their true self while the Tarasque is probably their "outside appearance". In its legend, the Tarasque attacked annyone who came to close to its territory, it was a furious and scary creature many talks about how terrifying she looked. Just with this part of the story i can see how the world have treated this woman, probably pointing fingers at her pointing out anything that made her different or maybe she's just not conventionaly attractive. Of cours the villagers (her whole surrounding) just wanted the dragon to be slain but one day Marthe (it can be you or someone who's a true friend to her) came in the town, she saw the potential of the Tarasque and not just a furious monster of devastation, lady Marthe appeased the Tarasque and treated it gently. Sadly once Marthe bought the Tarasque to the village those stupid monkey brained peasant decided to kill it in vengeance despite the dragon being now tamed and calm (i'll be salty forever by the way apparently this town sucks now SO GOOD FOR THEM)

With this part of the story i can have two scenarios , this is either the story of your meeting so you'll meet her when she will be in a really lonely place, probably stuck in the place that hurted them (because hey it's not that easy to leave). Or they've already been through all of this and now she is far from those people who harmed her but of course it has consequence on her and her personality so she might come off as rude people might even say 'rude' but don't be stopped by their tough exterior, it's not a mask but an actual outside image of them. Kind of like a bear i've heard, some will think about the fact that they're aggressive and dangerous but actually they're quite cuddly and protective, look at interpretation of the Bear card from Lenormand i feel like it does represent your person quite well or simply what bears represent in your belief system.

Be gentle, be patient because it's not a woman whom you can approach just out of curiosity you'll actually have to seek out in the forest to find her in their most natural habitat and who know maybe she'll charm you. la petite fille de la mer just started playing when i got to this part like wow she is so dreamy i feel like she could hypnotise you like the fairy she is~

my best wishes for you and the fairy princess

♀ Pile 1

【Cards】 Ladon & gargouille + The Sun

It's quite funny that you also got the sun to describe your woman but i sense her to be quite far from Pile 1's girlfriend. She strike me as the sun but in the way of Apollon who represent it, she got a bright side that is bold but warm, she inspire a lot of people as much as she intimidate them because Ladon is the dragon (a kind of hydra) who ended up being turned into the dragon constellation (what a star). And just like Apollon she also has a really dark side, a side of the sun that we often forget about, she is a furious & burning star alone but shining on the world both nurturing and devastating. Your girlfriend is kind of a punk i must say, probably very active when it comes to injustice that just make her blood boil. She probably made herself a lot of enemies but she doesn't care, yes she is alone but she is confident in it (tho i can guess that the loneliness can be heavy sometimes) i can also say that a lot of people probably hate her out of jealousy because she is free and independant while other people are probably too insecure to do anything she does. An other thing i got is that she doesn't care about dressing how she want or being provocative in general "just because she can" i've heard, after all gargoyls are made either scary or provocative in order to scare off evil (like the gorgon images) she assume all of her choices and so she doesn't mind any asshole who come up to try to put her down because if she ever falls on the ground she'll get up to go as high as the stars.

In the myth, Ladon has been slayed by heracles (it's an heracles hater account by the way) during his labours but thing is, Ladon's death has been quite the scandal and made the nymph really sad above of that the dragon was protecting the golden apple tree (thank you for being useless heracles). I can interpret this for your futur girlfriend as her being just protective and supportive of other women (the nymph) but probably about minority in general (the apple tree represent multiple things to protect that are all linked togheter), since the nymph adore Ladon to the point of crying its death she is probably quite popular amongs the girls. Now for the heracles part i think we can all imagine what he represent when you think about the image of your futur girlfriend, (cis)men 100% hate her for sure and some might have been pretty violent about it (what can you expect from such primitive creatures after all).

After being slayed, Hera took Ladon's dead body and made it into the now known as the dragon constellation and the nymph all cried the death of the beast. Your girl is alive don't worry i'm not predicting any death ! I can interpret this part of the myth as despite her being put down by abusive figure she has found the right people for her and who helped her being her true self or just going back to her true self after a big trauma (i mostly get woman figure or a group of woman at least). I can also imagine that as her having a big presence only and so a big supportive audience with some haters.

Your girlfriend actually remind me of Marie, the girl i picked for the 3 piles image so maybe you'd find her interesting maybe read her wiki page or read Innocent (her full name is Marie Joseph Sanson) tho be aware it's a quite violent and dark manga it's not for everyone/every age.

♀ Pile 3

【Cards】 Ouroboros & Quetzalcoatl + Judgement

What the hell ? What have you done to pull out some goddess like that i think you'll date a litteral dragon. This woman has experienced high highs and terrible "death moments" i'm definitly getting someone who's into witchcraft/spirituality but not your little crystal collecting girly oh no, here it's someone who's actively practicing it. Think of the women who worship santa muerte or who are following any chtonian or chaotic god or spirits (like dragons why not). This person kind of remind me of a female version of Griffith but before he became the most problematic character on earth. She looks angelic, like a savior she probably gives wonderful advice and help people get out of wild situation she if harsh in her messages if needed but everything she does serves the ouroboros (the cycle of life and death) most people have met her when being in very bad state as she came by to remind them about the cycle of things or just to shake their world a bit so they start moving again. Tho this angel might be a bit lonely since it's probably really hard for her to find people who match her energy, she isn't afraid of her solitude and darkness because she choosed it, she just fly high knowing that one day she'll meet people or at least someone who match her vibe or who is at least not coming to her while beging for help.

This person is a leader and a messenger she is probably really good with divination it might be her go to thing for everyday trial. Quetzalcoalt was against human sacrifice and with the ouroboros i can imagine that your next girlfriend probably have been through a long and painful cycle of self sacrifice, her surrounding has probably preached how wonderful and how you have no choice but sacrifice yourself for the sake of others and that you should just suffer in silence. Your futur girlfriend said no and stood up against this victim mentality because true freedom cannot be attained when being pushed down to the ground by people, her place was amongs the clouds in harmony with the element of air. She come and goes like the wind, i sense that she isn't particulary extraverted but she doesn't have problem when it comes to interacting with people so she probably speak to random people everytime she goes out however she is quite the loner or at least she is really distant from her friend group, maybe she is very different from them so despite getting along she can't fully give herself to her friendship like she wish she could.

Quetzalcoalt has been betrayed in his myth, again i always sense that your girlfriend's life trial has been made into whole cycle so she could observe and live the problem in all its angles. Has amazing as it sound, this person has suffered a lot through those cycles, yes they come out strong and still standing but don't understimate the pain she went or is still going through, after all Quetzalcoalt killed himself with fire and only his heart was left and became the morning star. I can interpret this has your person using their past experience to teach others about life's pain and how to overcome them but sadly no ones does it for her, it's like she is the first one who always step in dangerous zone to be faced with danger so the others don't despite her fighting to stop this "sacrifice cycle".

Despite being strong they probably needs some company to light up their day (wink wink)

⊙

[astrologylunadream]

What They're Keeping from You🕸🕷👤 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hey it's Lunadream🤗 We're going to find out exactly what your person is keeping from you right now..🤫🤨🗣🚫 hope you find your message♡♡♡

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~🗝👤🖤

Pile 1🔗

Pile 2🦟 (🔞!!)

Pile 3📷

Pile 4🎸

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 🕸🕷🖤

Pile 1🔗

Sign energy: Height, Winter, Relax, High standards, Letter, Venus, Leo, Cancer, Water, Jupiter, 😁☁️📣🍬

👤Your person's energy: Lol right away my keyboard typed in B accidentally after typing in Letter so it's likely their initials could be B or have it somewhere in their name. Your person is definitely very tall like I'm seeing expanded height with this one omg and this someone could have a long name or just longer than yours. Might be physically bigger than you in appearance. 💫Leo vibes💫 Libra/Taurus and Cancer, also Sagittarius/Pisces. Any of those could be their Venus sign especially Leo. They are very caring and feminine but mostly in personality, they are very sweet to others. They have a laid back personality and just take it easy. It's hard to make them angry or annoyed because they're just vibing.😌 They may love winter or cold weather could be their favorite season. Turtlenecks could be their jam. They could like the snow or maybe it's the birth season of someone special to them??😗🖤 (For any of our winter babies in this pile, this is your sign <3). So your person has a very guarded and proud aura, like a lion who knows their worth. They never flinch, and they are hardly phased by what others throw at them. They have a proud/relaxing vibe and it's soooo cool😊 Very sweet and soft too.. like a big fluffy lion.🦁 Always smiling and having a good time, lightens up the mood for everyone. They make others feel safe and comfortable.

🗝What they're keeping from you: Teddy bear, Suspicion, Amusement park, Want, Matching, Virgo, 2nd house, 12th house, Sagittarius, Leo, 🧠💆‍♀️🎶📵 Ohhh your person is so silly😝 It's really simple actually, the things they are hiding from you are kinda obvious imo.😏 They are really suspicious about you and trying to figure you out... they secretly really want you in their imagination but this is really really hidden you guys!! They actually think you're really cute and they dream about you guys wearing watching outfits and doing all sorts of little fun things together. They might not realize how deep their feelings are for you, but you are secretly so amusing to them, you entertain them just by the way you act and your voice😳 My pile 1 your voice makes them wanna touch you so bad, they just want to grab your thigh and pull you close to them😍❤🖤 They haven't been answering their phone much lately and this is the reason!! They can hide it all day long but they keep wanting you and all they're thinking about is if you like them or not!! They keep wondering about you, they're so sus about the little things you do and how you act around themmm♡ Your in their head 24/7 RN just know that my pile 1's!! Omg and this makes so much sense with the hands being handcuffed because mercury rules hands but it also rules the mind so their thoughts are just locked on you wow it fits perfectly for this pile.🤯

💬Messages from your person: What are you thinking? We can do it together, I love you to death, I can feel your love, You can do it (They're secretly so supportive of you with them🤗🤭) Extra cards: Fantasy, Myth, Sidetracked, Denial, Cold, Saturn, 12th house, Pluto, Sagittarius, Water (They're keeping in their fantasies about youuu my pile 1 they are trying to keep in their subconscious thoughts of you♡)

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🖤

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the chain emoji~🔗 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🖤🖤🖤

Pile 2🦟 (🔞!!)

Sign energy: Invitation, Innovation, Stay, Favor, Text, Earth, 4th house, North node, 5th house, 10th house, 😱🟨🎸📞

👤Your person's energy: Alright I'm getting some indirect Aquarius energy and I feel like this person spends a lot of time online, they text a lot and often check their social media. They may post their hobbies online or fun/creative stuff, omg pile 2's person may use dating apps and/or send flirty pics to people haha😂😂 I feel like posting hot selfies on patreon is their calling omfg💀 They might have a secret fans only account if you know what I meannn🤣🤣😩 You might be shocked about what this person does online, hence why you're wondering what they're hiding. Your person may talk with you through the phone mostly, they have earth placements and may like the color yellow. They might have bleach blonde hair, or a strange shade of blonde like yellowish blonde. Cancer, Leo, and Capricorn placements. This may be a very flirty person, I feel like they do little things for attention like wearing more revealing clothing or biting their lips/seductive habits just like a little attention seeking at times. They are an opportunist, and if there's a chance for success they won't hesitate to take that chance. With the guitar emoji it's giving similar vibes to pile 4 so if you feel called to check that one aswell that could be of significance.☆

🗝What they're keeping from you: Attraction, Style, Meaning, Special, Memories, Lilith, Scorpio, Gemini, Air, 10th house, 🥱🤒👚📿 Ohhhhhh pile 2 this person has some skeletons in their closet🙀 I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE SECRET ACCOUNT THING wow There's some crazy stuff going on with your person, they got a lot they are hiding for sure. First of all they are doing some shady stuff for fame/recognition like I mean some freaky stuff...👿😬 They crave validation and just wanna feel useful/worthy🥺🥺 They have some naughty hidden preferences when it comes to dressing up🥵😰💀 I'm talking chains and all.. they want to be unique and pleasing. They might dress up on social media/gain followers for 18+ content...🙊 Might show themselves tied up, acting out scenarios and such😭😭🙊💀 They could be doing some mindblowing stuff for the eyes of the internet. I was not expecting this for my pile 2's wtf... They have a dark and wild side that they don't want you to know about... they could be hiding their hobby from you from fear of rejection. There's guilt weighing on their conscious rn, they are into some crazy dark hobbies. They're doing some dirty things for attention wow this pile... They have tried so hard to hide these things from you, like they don't want you to find out how bad they can get😭 Your person has a complete different side to them, it's like another person. The things they do might be helping them cope with any particular issues they might have, this could be their dark little secret that no one knows about. Yes, they are a freak😫😳 They secretly have a really dirty mind omg the truth has been revealed my pile 2's!

💬Messages from your person: If only, As expected, You had it coming, I want to spend my life with you, Can you handle it? (OHH they know you know pile 2 PILE 2!!!) Extra cards: Online, Hot, Unseen, Break, Holding back, 5th house, Sagittarius, Moon, Pisces, Neptune (This makes so much sense now they are talking about the content they post online, I'm seeing that they are willing to stop doing those things if it bothers you or makes you upset🥺🥺😢 Wow this is a crazy situation pile 2 I wish you and your person the best!!)

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🖤

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the mosquito emoji~🦟 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🖤🖤🖤

Pile 3📷

Sign energy: Short, Side effects, Together, Fan, Synchrony, Uranus, Aquarius, 11th house, Moon, Mercury, ☔✉🧱🧲

👤Your person's energy: Okay for my pile 3's I was already getting lgbtq+ vibes for no reason!! But then when all the Aquarius just started spilling out I was like okay this is definitely that.🌈 You guys this person is could be your best friend, you two talk a lot online and have a lot of fun together. I'm seeing long convos on the phone, giggling and laughing together.🤗 You are like two peas in a pod, they might be your same gender. For some of you your person is short or shorter than you, this could be a twin flame type of connection you guys have. You like to obsess over things together like shows/movies/books/music all that stuff, You might have a favorite music band that you guys bond over mutual obsession for!! I can see them being really into the kind of things you're really into, you guys just have so much in common I-🥺💖 You guys have so much fun even on dreary days, I feel like you take lots of photos of eachother and you might have many selfies with this person. They are so unique and you feel like there is no one like this person!! You have such a special bond and you guys are inseparable. You feel so attracted to them even as a friend just they make you smile so much, they show you what real love is. Your bond is rock solid and nothing can tear you apart, you come up with fun ideas and share everything with one another. You just get eachother especially on an emotional level, so supportive and sweet.🖤

🗝What they're keeping from you: Submissive, Memories, Mean, Out, Forgiveness, 12th house, Sun, 3rd house, Pluto, Lilith, ♒🦢💛🎶 You guys may have had an argument with this person... I'm hearing "Out for forgiveness" and "Dark subconscious memories" Someone in this connection has said really hurtful things to the other, they might not have even meant to but this effected them especially on a subconscious level. They could be the one that hurt you and they secretly are begging for forgiveness, this is so sad because you guys are so sweet idk what happened😫😭😭 They are in a dark place rn and trying to pull themselves out of the hole of despair they have created for themselves. I'm seeing self destructive behavior in your person my pile 3's. They are really down in the dumps but they don't wanna tell you this.💔 You might have said things that caused "the straw to break the camel's back", making them feel more guilty about how they have treated you in the past. They can't help but remember the dark feelings and hurt from those moments, They are on their knees for forgiveness but they don't have the strength to ask!!😖🌧 They secretly feel so small and powerless I'm hearing. They don't want you to hold a grudge against them, or leave them behind. They are so worried that you will cut ties with them, they really love you pile 3 and they don't want to loose that special bond between you two.🥺

💬Messages from your person: I can't help you, I'm looking for an answer, Just give it a try, If only I could kiss you, You're so desperate (I'm getting mirrored energy with you two, I feel like my pile 3's would say the same things) Extra cards: Clothes, Green, Teddy bear, Dance, Lose, Chiron, Pisces, Mercury, 6th house, 8th house (I saw "give me cuddles" accidentally with the messages and with teddy bear I just🥺🥺🥺 They need your hugs so bad rn, they want to hold you tight)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🖤

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the camera emoji~📷 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🖤🖤🖤

Pile 4🎸

Sign energy: Eternity, Height, Angel, Release, Poker face, Earth, Jupiter, Sun, Libra, Taurus, 📸🧩✉☣

👤Your person's energy: Ohh we've got another tall one💀 My pile 4's your person is so tall and very statuesque, they're giving greek god/ess vibes in appearance🥴♡ They don't smile much but when they do omg my pile 4's heart starts beating FAST. They are currently releasing themselves from toxic relationships that are wasting their time, this *might* (might might) be someone you're in a toxic relationship with, only for some😭 I'm hearing "extensive toxicity" but this could be something they are releasing or getting rid of. You see them as an angel, a guardian angel of sorts. You may feel like they were sent to you as a devine message, a missing piece in your life. You feel like they "complete" you, and they do I mean they compliment you so well omg. The camera emoji came out for you guys so if you felt called to pile 3 you can check that out. They have a very physically attractive face, nice neck and very still facial expressions. Ughhh I feel like everyone has a crush on your person pile 4 like they're so attractive.😂😂 They may look really good in photos, even though they don't show much emotion. You can't exactly tell what they're feeling, which is why you aren't sure if they are the kind to keep secrets. Very good-looking and heavy earth energy, Taurus is likely. Sagittarius, Leo, or Libra could be in their chart.

🗝What they're keeping from you: Captive, Guardian, Youth, Fate, Waist, Pisces, Venus, Mars, Pluto, Air, ♈☯🧣🕊 I swear I just heard a crow but there are none around here I don't think??😳 So that could be a sign for you my pile 4's. Now for your person I'm seeing some interesting stuff, they have some inner feelings they don't want to neccesarily tell you just yet. Your person secretly wants to protect you🥺🖤 Awww is it really that?? We have guardian and with Venus I'm seeing there is definitely a devine feminine (no matter the gender) they want to keep safe and look out for. For some of you have been hurt or had bad experiences with male/authorities when you were younger😭😭 Your person wishes they could change your fate, they wish you weren't so powerless back then. I'm hearing "those people are a waste of air" lmao they are so ticked off by those who hurt you in the past. They feel as if you've been trapped in a cycle that you didn't deserve at all🤧 They want to get back at those people, they wanna fight anyone who hurts you. But of course they aren't telling you this is how they really feel, they hope that this message will be sent by devine timing (heyy I guess that makes me the messenger dove lol). They want to be your warrior, your knight in shining armor. And they wanna wrap you up in a thick little scarf and cuddle you under a pile of blankets <3 Your person can somehow sense your feeling of captivity, entrapment and vulnerability. They want to guard your pure soul, and protect you against anything that ever tries to hurt you.😞🖤

💬Messages from your person: Oh yeah, I will love you until I die, This is confusing, I can feel your aura, Do you still want this? (Well??? What do you say pile 4 are they the oneee?🤭😇♡) Extra cards: Masculine, Change, Side, Relationship, Breathe, South node, 2nd house, Capricorn, Jupiter, Eros (Ohh your person is done with past relationships they can feel that you're the only one they want.)

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🖤

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the guitar emoji~🎸 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🖤🖤🖤

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

[draculasfavoritewife]

Misconceptions

Summary: Traveling with the Mandalorian was always going to create false impressions -- if only they knew what he was like behind closed doors.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Reader being a bit of a tease, implied smut, heavy sensuality and SOFTNESS! Din is a bit of a soft dom (according to me).

So I came up with this idea on a road trip last year, when I read a theory about the concept of Mandalorian celibacy, and the dialogue generator in my brain went off the rails 😁. My personal headcanon is that while Mando is not a full-on dom like I've seen some write him, he does like to be somewhat in control so yeah.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

You knew something was wrong the second he entered -- or rather,  stormed into -- the small room in the inn your little crew was occupying for the night. Normally even when fully armored he can move with surprising stealth, stalking his prey like a wild nexu on the prowl.

You've always wondered how he manages to not clank like a droid wherever he walks.

Now, though, none of that control softens the thud of his heavy footsteps as he passes you without even so much as a greeting and aimlessly unpacks his gear, taking no care to muffle the clatter of his personal arsenal before he chooses his pulse rifle to dismantle and start cleaning.

You approach him cautiously, noting the deadly sharp motions of his gloved hands and the stiff angles of his shoulders. He's quiet, much too quiet, only the crackle of his tight breaths sounding through his vocoder.

"Want some help?" you ask, keeping your own tone warm and flashing a brief smile at his gleaming helmet.

Silence.

Undeterred, you delicately pull his EE-3 carbine from the mess and seat yourself cross-legged near his feet, expertly taking it apart and starting to lovingly free it from the layers of buildup caused by frequent use.

A side glance reveals that his shoulders have loosened slightly, rolling forward as a longer breath drags from his lungs. He's not angry at you, as your unsolicited presence actually seems to have calmed him a tiny bit.

The pair of you work in the quiet for some time, only disturbed by the child whenever he toddles up to one or the other of you to eagerly show you some new insect he's found in the dust of your temporary lodging quarters.

"So," you finally say casually, not taking your eyes from the detailing of his rifle as you finish your task. "Want to talk about what's got you in such a snit?"

He snorts. "No."

"Din," you finally look up at him then, and see his head tilt towards you as it always does when his true name leaves your lips, "you know you don't have to shoulder everything yourself anymore. We're partners. I'm more than capable of carrying my share. What's happened?"

"It's nothing like that," he grumbles, his visor flicking away. "Someone just made me angry, is all."

You wait, opening your arms and lap to Grogu as he squeals and reaches for you. Din's already said more than he probably meant to, which means there's more coming.

You just have to wait for it.

He doesn't keep you waiting long, to both his surprise and yours. You've been wearing him down with your patience lately, it seems.

"Some piece of bantha fodder in the cantina made a comment about you after you took Grogu back up here," he mutters. "He had the GALL to ask me what I pay you."

You hear leather protesting as his dangerous hands clench into fists.

By what he leaves unsaid, you know the implications of the remark meant something much different than simply a relationship of business employment.

You blink up at him, oddly more touched by his rage towards the scum who would suggest such a thing than bothered by the story itself.

"If we weren't already trying to keep a low profile here, Cyar'ika, I would have stuffed those words back down his vile throat until he choked on them."

You rise to your feet, Grogu still cradled to your chest, trying to deny that you find his threat on your behalf so arousing. "Well, I can't decide whether to be insulted or flattered. I never thought I could pass for a courtesan."

"You're not helping" he tells you dryly. "And you know that's a load of bantha."

With a grin, you take the child to his little bed in the next room, and place your palms against the Mandalorian's cool beskar breastplate when you return. "I'm sorry for joking about it, ner'cyare. And I'm sorry you have to hear people speculating about our relationship. I wish they could keep those thoughts to themselves."

Letting your fingers drift upward to tug on his cowl, you add, "But it's not even as bad as what someone said to me while I was getting food for Grogu."

He goes rigid. "Tell me."

"Some old guy gave me a pitying look when he saw I was with you. Came over and basically said something along the lines of, 'Best to give up sooner rather than later, Sweetheart. You know those Mandalorians...they're CELIBATE.'"

Din's left speechless for a moment, and you can almost imagine his eyes blinking in shock.

"I...what...why...?"

You shrug carelessly and step away from his body, crouching down to reorganize his weapons where they lie forgotten on the floor. "It's just a rumor, Din. Since our people pick up foundlings all over the place and have so many rules of conduct. The galaxy's just jumped to the conclusion that our people don't actually engage in...intimacy, of any kind. I used to hear the same thing said about me, before I stopped wearing the armor."

He's quiet again, thoughtful as he draws the curtains across the window, shrouding the room in shadow. You allow a wicked grin to curve your lips for a moment, confident you've rerouted his focus from his earlier outrage.

A muted clank tells you he's removing his beskar now that it's dark.

"I hope I didn't offend you by relaying that story," you sing-song into the shadows behind you.

Nothing.

As soon as your guard is down, a pair of long arms has you in a durasteel grasp and you're lifted from the floor and tossed onto the bed before you can even make a sound.

"What's brought this on?" you half-laugh into his bare chest as he all but smothers you.

Hot lips tease your throat and rough hands crawl up your spine beneath your shirt, making you arch into him for more and wrap your legs around his hips.

"I'll show you who's celibate," he growls close to your mouth, punctuating his words with a kiss that hints at teeth. "Someone's asking to be reminded."

"Teach me a lesson, then, ner'alor," you hum into his hair, reverently inhaling the smell of leather, sweat, and smoke that always saturates his skin. Most times he protests your use of such an authoritative term for him, but when he's riled up, you know that some deep dark part of him likes it.

He needs no further urging, and soon both of your respective annoyances are long forgotten in the throes of bliss.

Much later, when the flames have cooled, you lie tangled together in the sheets, his head resting on your chest and your fingers lovingly working the knots out of his thick hair. As much as you yearn to someday look upon the face of the man you love so deeply, you can't deny that the darkness gives a gift of true closeness you might never have known in the seeing world. The flicker of his eyelashes against your skin and the way his now-tranquil breaths warm your body are enough in this moment, and no amount of credits could ever persuade you to give this up.

"Your helmet has really made a reptavian's nest of your hair this time, my love," you observe as your fingers catch in his curling locks for the umpteenth time.

"Mmm, most of that mess is your doing this time, Cyar'ika." Din's voice is husky, as it always gets when he's on the verge of sleep, but he sounds more at ease than he has in days, and you allow yourself to hope that he'll sleep through the night tonight, that his body will actually let him fully rest for once.

"At least I can undo that with time. I'm afraid once daylight comes, my new skin pattern won't be so easily hidden." You have a few suspicions already of where the bruising evidence of his zealous kiss blossoms across your flesh, and as you prefer to dress much lighter than your armored companion, such adornments do not go unseen.

"You love wearing my mark." There's the barest hint of smugness underlying his tone. "Don't try to pretend otherwise."

"...Alright, I won't." You reach down to toy with his mythosaur necklace, letting the tips of your fingers flit down his torso and feeling him pull you closer in response, his own hands settling into their place at the top of your hips. "Whatever other people might say, Din Djarin, I love you. Never doubt that."

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Mesh'la."

You're about to drift off, there in his embrace, when a lonely chirp from the other room jolts you fully awake and you sigh.

"I'll go get him, Din."

"Hurry back," he murmurs, reluctantly releasing you from his warm hold.

You scrabble around in the blankets for a moment, unable to locate your clothes, until Din tosses his shirt at you. "Here, take mine."

You pull it over your head, feeling immediately oddly at home swimming in the folds of the massive piece of clothing. It's unexpectedly soft, well worn from years of use -- and abuse -- and it smells just like him. You smile to yourself as you crawl out of bed, the shirt's hem drifting to the tops of your thighs.

"Cover your eyes, I'm opening the door," you tell him.

"I'm not going to go blind from a sliver of light," he grumbles.

"Just thought I'd warn you." You push the door to your shared room open, about to go rescue Grogu from his solitude.

"Wait. Stay there."

You hear him dressing in the other half of his clothes, and the bed creaks as he rises. You instinctively let your eyes flutter shut as his quiet footsteps approach from behind.

"Just for a minute...I want to really look at you with my own eyes."

Your heartbeat quickens at that, and you realize then that he's never really seen you, either.

Through the visor of his helmet, sure, but he's never actually set eyes on you this vulnerable, this...undressed.

You're almost as much of a mystery to him as he is to you, intimately as you know each other.

It amazes you, the trust you've established between the two of you as he stands before you and his breath rustles your unkempt hair. He doesn't reach to cover your eyes himself, worried that you'll look at him without consent. He trusts that your love and respect for him is enough to keep your eyes softly closed.

He studies you, hands tracing down your arms and along the shape of your body covered in his dark shirt. His touch is light, almost shy as he takes the sight of you in. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that one day he would be standing here with someone like you, someone wearing his clothes, who loves him enough to share everything with him and not demand that he break his sacred creed before he's ready.

Someone who he wants, more than anything, to be his forever, to one day, if his life ever allows it, become his riduur.

The person that he almost -- almost -- for a second entertains the thought of telling to open her eyes, to really LOOK at him as he is, unmasked in the soft light of the hallway.

But he doesn't, not this time.

Someday.

You feel his hands frame your face, melt into the familiar calluses of his fingertips as his thumbs lightly caress along your cheekbones. You smile wistfully as he tenderly kisses your closed eyelids, then rests his forehead against yours in a keldabe kiss.

"Mesh'la," he hums quietly, and you can hear the hushed awe in his voice, the way he gets when he's overwhelmed by feelings he can't put into words. "Dank farrik, you're so lovely."

You shiver slightly at his words, feeling heat race to your skin. You don't know exactly why, but you've always loved the sound of his voice when he lets that particular expletive slip.

"Careful, Djarin," you murmur as your lips seek out his. "You don't want me asking for another round before you're ready."

"Why do you assume I'm not ready?" he teases, teeth catching playfully at your bottom lip as you pull back.

"Developing more of an appetite, I see." You rise on your tiptoes to brush your nose against his, grinning as always at the way his scruffy facial hair tickles your face.

"I had to, to keep up with you." His hands tighten on your waist, drawing you against his well-muscled body suggestively.

You reluctantly push away from him, though not before planting a kiss in the hollow where his throat meets his collarbone, a place you know drives him wild. "I do have to go. Your ad'ika wants his buir."

"That was a dirty trick, Mesh'la." He sounds put out, and a little pent up now.

You twist your finger in his necklace, before turning away so you can open your eyes and finally go rescue your foundling. "I'll make it up to you later, Cyare. I promise."

"Don't make me pay you," he deadpans, reminding you of the comment that first started off this very pleasurable evening.

You smirk, knowing he can hear it in your voice as you saunter away. "Oh, I'm very certain I'll get exactly what I want from you."

When you finally return, the child clutching the folds of your borrowed shirt, he's in bed again, so once the door is shut the darkness swallows you in its comforting shroud once more.

You listen to Grogu's happy squeaks as he clambers across from your chest to Din's, and the answering murmurs of his father. Content in the company of the two beings you love most in the galaxy, you stretch out to lie against your lover's warm body, relishing the temporary luxury of a soft mattress to sink into and room to spare. You're not going to wake up with kinks in your spine for the first time in forever.

"You should get a bigger bed on the ship," you suggest through a yawn. "This is awfully nice."

"What's wrong with mine?" He sounds offended, the fingers of his free hand searching until they find their way beneath the draping excess of his shirt that's still cocooning your form. It surprised you at first, probably surprised him too, just how much the man craves these rare spells of skin-to-skin contact, made all the more meaningful by his personal restrictions. You settle into his languid stroking before mustering a reply.

"It's just nice not to worry about falling off the bed when all three of us are together."

"I suppose," he concedes, pausing a moment to no doubt smile at the tiny snores of the now-sleeping child. "But there is something to be said for how close necessity draws us. Don't you roll away from me in the middle of the night."

"Or what, you big gundark, you won't pay me?"

He squeezes the soft part of your waist at your teasing. "Maybe I won't."

"That's a breach of contract." You tangle your legs with his and wrap your arms around his midsection, assuring him without words that you're not going anywhere. "Admit it, you'd like it too. Imagine a world where you don't wake up every morning with stiff muscles." You lazily start to knead into his back, soothing out the weariness and tension that like to take up permanent residence there.

He sighs appreciatively, breath hitching slightly whenever your ministrations encounter an especially stubborn knot. "I do not wake up EVERY morning with stiff muscles."

"Could've fooled me, with the amount of old-man groaning I hear whenever you get out of bed."

"I don't do that."

"Why do you think I always wake up when you leave, hmm?"

"Because you're incapable of keeping yourself warm and you need me to keep from freezing to death." His reply is certain, leaving no room for further rebuttal.

"Kriff. You do know me too well. You still sound like an old man in the mornings, though."

"Don't argue with me, Cyar'ika." Din's voice is warm, but his hand starts straying from platonic towards more intimate. "You're at a bit of a disadvantage."

"How so?" You shouldn't ask, but an impish desire to hear him actually voice his dangerous thoughts overpowers your common sense.

The smirk in his voice is audible. "You have a much more difficult time keeping quiet than I do. You wouldn't want to wake the kid now, would you?"

"Dank farrik."

He relents when you wordlessly concede, returning to a comforting caress rather than an instigating one.

You've almost dozed off again in your shared darkness when the mattress bucks as he hauls himself out of bed to take Grogu back to his own room. You gaze through half-closed eyes at his silhouette when he pauses, back-lit in the warm glow of the opened doorway. You take him in without detail for a brief moment, the curves of his well-defined shoulders and arms, the textured mess of his hair, the slope of his prominent nose. Your heart blossoms with the affection and passion this wounded, pure warrior ignites within you, and you are hit once more with the desire to truly see him, bare and in the light, all his barriers laid down for you.

He's the only man you would ever consider taking as riduur.

Someday.

Before you know it, your brave hunter has returned to your embrace, leaning over you and trapping you between his arms as he rests his scruffy cheek against your smooth one, the two of you allowing a long moment to simply breathe each other in, thankful once more to whichever gods you may believe in that for one more day, you are alive, and you belong to each other.

Then he rises to his knees and pulls you up with him, his breath warm on your skin.

"Don't ever leave me, Mesh'la," he whispers roughly into your throat.

Your head snaps back in delight at the sensations his mouth stirs within you, and your nails scrape across his scarred back in answer, drawing wordless sounds from deep in his chest.

"Never, ner'cyare. I would hunt you across the stars if ever we were parted."

He sighs, the movement of his body rocking yours. "Thank you."

"Can I keep this shirt?" you ask saucily.

"Yes." His hands curl around its hem and start lifting. "But take it off for now."

You hum questioningly as you allow him to guide the thick fabric over your head.

"After all," and his voice hardens, taking on the dogged quality that makes him the best there is at what he does.

"I haven't forgotten about that next round you promised, my love."

Ner'cyare = My beloved

Ner'alor = My leader/boss

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Mesh'la = I love you, Beautiful

Riduur = Spouse

Ad'ika = Little One/Small child

Buir = Parent

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 10 - I can’t think straight

Warnings: therapy talk of dissociation, red room discussion, talk of forced birth/pregnancy (but not described or graphic)

Word Count: 2k (gif not mine)

Summary: Natasha talks to the therapist who reveals secrets of their own.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

Olivia waits.

She itches the scar on her elbow absentmindedly.

She feels her guard go up as Natasha enters; the woman still handcuffed as they go through the rigmarole of uncuffing her and then sitting in silence.

Natasha doesn’t look at her.

Sharp eyes stare straight ahead.

They both know what’s coming.

“What do you want?” she opens, knowing the question will provoke her.

They’ve been at this for weeks.

It doesn’t always start like this. Sometimes it’s making sure Natasha’s not so dissociated that she can function through the day and the time in between.

Sometimes it’s touching on small things she’s said in debrief.

Provoking her, it’s not the point of the exercise.

The woman is barely holding it together, anyone who looks closely enough can see it.

They just have to want to.

No one in Shield has Natasha’s best interests in mind.

All they want is her information; her intelligence.

Olivia knows how it feels to be a defector.

The world is against her.

Natasha has to want to choose something for herself.

She knows this.

She wants Natasha to make a choice, any choice for herself.

The difficulty is that she has a lifetime of being told her voice doesn’t matter.

Natasha looks down at her hands, no words coming.

Olivia waits.

The dissociation that comes with asking hard, self reflecting questions is written on Natasha’s face.

She knows how it is; not being able to think straight.

She wonders how much to push today, how much to disclose and what to focus on.

With no answer forthcoming, she side steps.

“If I were to ask you, how you are, what would you say?”

Eyes look away, glancing at the time.

“Fine.”

The answer is curt.

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

Natasha shifts in her seat.

“And if I were to ask you to pretend to be me, and tell me how you seem, what would you say?”

Natasha is quiet.

“I don’t know.”

Olivia pauses.

Natasha watches her closely.

“Do you ever get tired, of battling the old you? The you that’s still stuck in the Red Room, controlled by someone else?”

Natasha looks taken aback, defensive and angry at the statement but Olivia continues anyway.

“I can see it, I see how hard you’re fighting, neither the old you or this version of yourself succeeding; I can see how exhausted you are.”

The room is so quiet.

Natasha’s eyes are intent, breathing shallowly, waiting the next blow of words.

“You made the decisions to put yourself here. So answer me.”

The next words are punctuated.

“What do you want?”

Natasha feels that she could say something profound, something about wanting to live or to be able to take back her life.

But she can’t decide that yet.

She hasn’t decided that yet.

Life has a funny way of deciding things for her and she sits passive on the wave.

Natasha glances up.

Eyes locking onto the scar on her arm, so many things fit into place.

“How did you get out?”

Olivia smiles.

She’d wondered if Natasha knew and how long it would take her to ask.

She straightens her arm.

The mark of her first kill, still present even after all these years. She dug in too hard with her knife, the self loathing in that moment providing a mark for life.

“For every breakdown, there’s a breakthrough. I would like to say that it was easy. That I did it myself, but we both know that’s a lie. People died to get me out. I wasn’t sure if it was what I wanted but I couldn’t dishonour their sacrifice. For a long time, I looked like you do now. Scared and tired. Like the world just needs to stop, to get your bearings.”

Olivia takes a sip of her water, aware of the eyes that watch her every movement now, that analyse her being.

“But it does get better.”

She looks at Natasha, her gaze fierce until Natasha cannot hold the intensity.

Fingers clench and release and Olivia models a breath.

“I can tell you the story, but first,” she pauses.

“Tell me something you want.”

“I want to know how Maria knew my birthday,” she whispers, looking up and expecting the woman to be laughing at her.

The conversation that had occurred all those months ago, still plays in Natasha’s mind. The insinuation that someone knew more about herself than she did, made nights sleepless and haunting. She hated Maria for it, and Shield in turn.

The hatred had abated somewhat, but still simmered under the surface.

After all they had given her, she wanted something for it; even though she had no rights to ask.

Olivia looks at her seriously, there’s no hint of a laugh or a smile.

“Good Natasha. That’s good.”

And the praise feels like a calming balm, honeyed words that rip into her.

Natasha pushes the feelings aside, and stares expectantly at her, wanting the story she’d promised.

Olivia glances at the time.

“Olivia was not always my name, I was not what you see now.”

“I was on a mission to Salta. Argentina is everything you expect it to be, beautiful and if you know the underworld, dangerous.”

Like all widows, Olivia knows how to tell a story.

Natasha reflects on it momentarily before getting lost in the thoughts and feelings of the words that emanate.

She wonders if they all know how, because of the necessity of stories in the Red Room, or because it was the only way to pass the time.

She redirects her attention, back to the present and not to the image of the girls in her dormitory sitting hands cuffed on their beds telling ghost stories about the monsters in the basement that would eat little girls.

“It was my first mission without handlers, and I got captured.”

Natasha’s heart sinks.

“I escaped, of course, a filed down spoon slices throats just as easily as a knife if you know how to use it. But,”

Olivia sighs, “they didn’t believe that I didn’t give anything up. In those days, the Red Room was still a secret, Russia’s own little experimental trojan, to get captured was tantamount to death. But all the money they invested in me. They couldn’t kill me. I was … retired.”

The memory of the pain of hot irons on the soles of her feet makes her swallow.

“After everything; they didn’t trust me. So they had another use for me. Widows, when retired, were forced to have children, to start the next generations of Widows. This was, of course, before they realised that women and girls were more easily trafficked than spending money on maternal health care, if they wanted them to live.”

Olivia frowns, knowing she’s speaking too much.

“Salta taught me two things. One; the way I was raised was not normal. It should be obvious, but sometimes stating that out loud helped, and two, I didn’t want to be that person; I didn’t want to be their killer and certainly not… that.”

The implications of reproductive coercion was something Olivia had nightmares about. Even after all these years.

“So, I found a way out. I killed and maimed to do it. I lived in limbo, until I found someone who I could trust, and they bought me here.”

She takes a breath and looks at Natasha.

It’s simplistic.

Natasha hates her for not telling her the whole story.

The growing pangs of hunger for information just starting to take seeds as she realises the implications of Olivia being a Black Widow.

The things she could ask, the answers she could get.

Breathing stops as her mind moves a thousand miles a minute.

What does she want?

She wants to know more. She wants a real answer to her question.

Natasha feels herself lean back, unaware that her posture had leaned forward to hear all the information.

“I’ll answer your questions Natasha, but don’t ask me about this again.”

There’s a pause.

“I agreed to be your psychiatrist because of shared life experience, but I understand that if this blurs lines. If you do not want me to be your therapist, you can tell Clint, and he’ll sort out another for you.”

Olivia’s pragmatics takes Natasha a minute to sort through.

It’s the contrary of what she’s saying. If anyone understands her here, it’s the woman sitting in front of her.

The room’s silence does not feel uncomfortable.

“Maria knows your birthday because Shield has a dossier on you.”

Natasha knows this, she’d deduced it herself.

“The information they have is from a bug I’d placed in the systems of the red room. There’s a dossier on all the girls. The bug is dead now, the information outdated, but perhaps, if we can get you cleared, you can give us updates on some of the other girls.”

Natasha eyes widen.

Her chest constricts as she thinks of Yelena.

In that one moment, she pushes the thought away, the pain hitting her chest and making her even more breathless.

She’s dead.

She couldn’t survive the atrocities of the red room, nor would she have wanted her too.

She nods, remembering to breathe.

“Yes,” she replies slowly, “I want that.”

Olivia writes something on a post it note.

“What else?”

Natasha is truthful in her reply, wondering what it will cost her.

“I want to help.”

.

Fury stares; his face unreadable.

“She was going to find out eventually,” Olivia argues.

“By giving her a purpose, you’re helping her become something more than an informant, you’re helping her to become someone who could, in theory, become your greatest asset.”

Angrily, she continues.

“It’s not just about purpose, yes, she has purpose for you, whilst she’s feeding you information, but what happens when that information runs out? What then? Are you just going to let her rot in a cell? Even you can see the waste in that.”

Olivia calms herself, resets and looks him in his eye.

“What do you foresee happening? What does Thompson or the World Security Council see happening? You brought her here because Barton couldn’t kill her and saw promise of a defector that could do more for us than just die. You agreed to let her live and use Shield resources because of the abundance of information - she’s held up her end - and at cost to her, do you know just how much?”

Olivia is angry, Fury starts talking but she’s not done.

“You don’t know, you can’t know, just how hard she must have fought to reveal information. Words like that in the Red Room… to speak so freely… she would have been tortured; I think she expects to be, probably still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Olivia waits and Fury raises an eyebrow.

“Are you done?” he asks, voice low.

“I knew she would find out eventually, or that you would tell her. I think we all knew. I don’t disagree with you, the timelines though, are not ideal.”

He looks at her in thought.

“Design a mission for her. One that will give us our answers of if she has truly defected or not. Design it so there is no doubt that she is on our side. Then, and only then can we start training her like one of our own, trusting her, like we trust you.”

The words hold meaning.

Shield has never fully trusted her.

She laughs in derision but nods anyway.

A plan forms in her mind.

She thinks she knows what Natasha wants, she wants a reason to keep fighting. A reason to keep going that doesn’t leave her empty when she’s done.

Barton had started all this.

“Fine, but Barton is allowed to go with her.”

The manipulation starts slow, slow enough that she knows Fury won’t catch it until he’s deep in her web. He’ll hate her for it, but she can’t find it within herself to care.

Shield is not the safe place she knew.

She leans back on the chair, and Fury nods curtly.

“Fine.”

Olivia sits for a moment before standing.

“Don’t fail,” he tells her as she walks out the door.

“We never do,” replies the Widow, lost in her own thoughts.

.

(Did you catch it before this fic? Little reveals. Little secrets. <3 as always comments and likes/reblogs are <3)

[cracklinhaze]

Absolutely love your post weirdmageddon Dipper centric fic! Ppl tend to forget that even before all That, the lil guy has always been snarky and protective & Feisty. If anything, what he went thru would def make him even bolder and braver enough to have those traits be more apparent. On another note, I know we saw bits of it on the fic but I just can’t help but be curious on your take of how post Weirdmageddon mabel is doing? Like your head canons and such :O

Hi Anon! <3 Happy Sunday! Thank you so much for your kind words. Dipper Pines being mouthy is one of my favorite things about him.

(For reference: Anon is referring to THIS FIC of mine!)

I would be MORE than happy to lay out some of my post-Weirdmaggedon headcanons for my beloved Mabel Pines.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

✰ Mabel Pines POST-WMAG Headcanons ✰

✰ She and Dipper have their own rooms back in Piedmont. Their parents assume the kids will be excited to have their own space, and they both claim they are. However, Mabel spends the first few months back in California in a sleeping bag on the floor of Dipper's room. Dipper wonders if her own pink, cheery stuffed-animal-littered room reminds her too much of Mabel-Land.

✰ Mabel gets REALLY into scrapbooking. After her scrapbooks saved Stan, she records everything.

✰ She blames herself entirely for Weirdmaggedon. Keeps a smile on her face and the shame shoved way, way down.

✰ Gets caught bringing her grappling hook to school SEVERAL times by teachers. Piedmont MS has a strict "no weapons" policy. She continues to break it. The administration is at their wits end.

✰ When Dipper gets anxious or angry about something to do with Weirdmaggedon, Mabel is the first person to notice. She starts making jokes in a very specific way, entirely directed at him in the hopes he'll be distracted.

✰ Speaking of jokes, Mabel's humor gets DARK. She's got a lot of trauma and nowhere else to put it.

✰ The divorce hits Mabel hard. Even though Dipper thinks he was protecting her from it, she knew. As someone who usually sees the bright side of things, she finds it increasingly hard to rationalize all the bad stuff. The world can end? Love can die? Twins can stop talking to each other for thirty years? Late at night on the floor of Dipper's room, she sometimes stays awake in a numb state of panic.

✰ Mabel's second "first kiss" is freshman year homecoming with the guy she asked to the dance. She teases that it doesn't really count because Dipper didn't kiss him, too.

✰ Sometimes, when Mabel's hair gets really messy (curls, ugh) -- Dipper sits on the floor and helps her untangle it while they watch Ducktective reruns.

✰ After fighting with her hair for too long, Mabel finally cuts it short. Wendy is the first person she texts about it.

✰ Her sophomore year of high school, Mabel goes to a party with some of the more "edgy girls" who are into stick-and-poke tattoos. She does a sort of messy star on her ankle and gets grounded when her parents discover it isn't just sharpie.

✰ Soos, Dipper, and Mabel have virtual game nights where they play shitty browser games on call.

✰ The thing that Mabel fears MOST is losing Dipper the way Ford and Stan lost each other. As Dipper gets more confident and starts making a few more friends at school, interning, and preparing for college, Mabel worries desperately about being left behind.

✰ The moments when Mabel KNOWS they're going to be okay are the times when she and Dipper sit on the couch, scrolling through their phones in mostly silence -- occasionally cracking up and showing each other dumb internet shit. Dipper usually tries to covertly put his cold feet on her. She hits him with pillows.

-----

When I write Mabel, there are a few things I stand by: Mabel Pines is intelligent; she's not the stupid twin. Mabel alleviates her anxiety with humor, silliness, and absurdity -- she chooses underthinking over Dipper's overthinking. She is, in many capacities, just as mature if not more mature than her brother; she worries about him growing up too fast.

If you want more of these, let me know! I am never not thinking about the Pines twins <3

[ronearoundblindly]

Fire & Ice (a RoAR drabble)

Flufftober Day 12, Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see series)

I blame @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory and @brandycranby for encouraging HughSaison. This is fairly loosely related to the prompt but there are a bunch of temperature references/illusions. 🤷🏻‍♀️Hey, I did my best. -> While I'm at it, does anyone want to own up (privately) to being the person who first asked about rich!Reader over a year ago??? I always wonder if that anon is still reading 🥹

Uhhh, angst with a fluffy ending... yeah, yeah, Ro loves writing arguments, we get it.

Warnings: If you've never read my Ransom before, beware. He curses like an angry sailor, inside and outside of his brain. Plus super suggestive language/mentions of sex. LOTS of dialogue. Zero editing. MINORS DNI. WC 1.8k

He cannot fucking believe it's come to this.

"Don't you fucking dare," he snips. “You cannot use a veto. You put me in charge.”

He watches you walk calmly, put away a dish calmly, sit at his couch calmly.

"I've made my decision, and that's final."

"Fuck you." Ran means it, but in his own way. "You said I could choose--"

"Not that," you say, so calmly, too fucking calmly for someone who managed to turn Ransom Drysdale into this, this thing that cares about something so petty for all the wrong--or just different--reasons.

He stretches to his full height and sucks on his tongue for a moment.

You continue to scroll through your phone.

He never thought he’d get married but he’s always loved a good party. Since the ring's not flashy, he wants you in the tiara. He hasn’t given you the ring yet either because…well, because it’s been less than a year and you practically live on the other side of the planet. Call him old-fashioned, but Ransom wants to be home for all the big things. He can plan a damn party though—and the look to match— whenever the hell he wants and for however long he wants.

At length in the quiet, he asks, "why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous, and I'm saying 'no.' Veto."

"You don't get vetoes for--" Ran smothers his frustration, but barely. "Does this have to do with...money? Because you know I’m not talking millions of dollars in real diamonds or something.” But, ya know, he’s expecting a couple hundred thou between colored and semi-precious stones, plus the setting in—would gold or platinum work best for your skin? Grandma Thrombey’s ring is made of yellow gold. Ran guesses he should match that.

The false calm never lifts from you.

Eyes icy and blank, you look at him while his plans keep running amuck. "No."

Two letters. One word. He fucking hates it.

"You'll look beautiful," he yells in annoyance.

The phone drops on the leather couch. "I'm not wearing a crown to be married in. It'll look pretentious, ostentatious. I won't do it and that's that."

"It's a tiara," Ran corrects, "and with a veil, it's near invisible. It’ll include the wedding colors with the stones."

"No."

His blood starts to boil. Don't say it, don't say it, he thinks fleetingly but fails.

"Says the woman with shit taste."

Slowly, calmly, coldly, you walk over to him, stretching to your full height, holding his gaze. You’re wearing one of his sweaters again and nothing else. That’s his favorite look, but only for him.

It’s winter outside, the heater turned up so that your naked skin stays comfortable. You stay comfortably exposed all the time, when he has his way. Comfort is king in Ran’s house. 

Despite being exposed though, he can see how you've made it so far in business—in life—even with shitty taste. Your poker face rivals champions, and you are stalwart in your dedication. There's a hard (and hardening) edge to your simple, sly grin.

You take a deep breath in,  a whiff of him, a sample for assessment.

"Poor--" you sigh "--boy."

His teeth grind together, jaw tight as a vice. How dare you.

Ran's petty, spiteful even when he tries so damn hard to keep it together, and the wound of disinheritance is still fresh enough he cannot abide that sting.

"Burn in hell."

You don’t take the bait and simply cock your head, waiting for his guilty meltdown. So far, he does this at least once a week, sometimes multiple times a day. It bothers you, you’ve told him, that he questions everything instantly, that he can’t trust you or your feelings or his surroundings, that he panics over the idea of ever having to get a job, but it’s also great ammunition against a man-child.

The grin never leaves your lips. You're in fine fighting form tonight. Ran shouldn't have tangoed.

"Go fuck some bimbo's ass."

Oh.

Oh, you bitch.

That's low.

Ransom's face contorts. "It was one time," he gripes, "and we weren't even dating."

Your palm lies flat against his chest. "We'd slept together several times, and you even volunteered for me by then so..."

Ran grabs your hips and brings you close, avoiding your gaze while hoping you keep looking at him, cooling him down, evening his hot temper.

"Of course," you add casually, "that wasn't the first time you did that, was it?"

This is where it gets tricky for him. Ran never had a real relationship before you--not even his 'bond' with his parents compares--but old habits die hard.

He shoves at your hips, spinning you two until your back hits the glass block window between the house and the bare woods outside.

His head ducks to mirror the angle of yours. "Doesn't have to be the last either."

"Hugh," you warn, as threatening as wind across his cheek.

He's gonna regret this. He knows he will, but curiosity gets the better of him.

"Tell me. Tell me why you don't want to wear something gorgeous and fancy for an occasion where you are meant to be gorgeous and fancy."

The turn in your expression is pronounced. He didn't expect you to be more alarmed by his caring than his come-ons.

"Bad form," you finally admit. "Some rich bitch thinks she's a princess. Looks really bad."

"You are rich. You are a--"

"Careful..."

"--I'm saying 'princess.' Calm down," he says to the perfectly, eerily calm woman in his arms. "Would you just fucking let me compliment you?"

Ran fiddles with some hair around your ear, noting proudly how your eyes droop shut slightly at the smallest touch from him. He likes that you respond to him, his distance, his fury, his doubt, and his passion. You make feeling okay. You are his safe space since you've seen him at his lowest.

You see him.

There's very few things in life that make more sense to Ransom than his wife will be the one who sees him and he lets see him. Everyone else and everything else can piss off.

God, he fucking hates that he loves you so much. Why won’t you just wear the fucking crown? You’ve earned it; you’re the one who conquered his demons, not Ran.

He could buy it anyway, have your veil sown straight on it, not give you the chance to argue, or he could take you out to shop, put one in your hands, knock it onto the floor, and claim ‘you break it, you bought it.’ Problem solved, but he’s a petty bitch.

He tucks the edge of his lip into his cheek.

He should be less of a petty bitch.

“What do you want?” Ran asks. “What’s it gonna take?”

He keeps his sharp eyes locked to yours, watching understanding shrink your once-dilating pupils

Change in demeanor. “Oh my god.”

Aaaand there’s the regret. “Don’t make a big deal—“

“HOLY SHIT.”

“It’s not—I’m just—“

“Hugh Fucking Drysdale?! Trying to compromise??? I’ve see it all now.”

“Stop,” he whines, dropping his head to your squirming chest.

“Wait—” you whip out of his arms and hustle back to the couch, retrieving your phone “—do it again.”

He’s too lost in staring up the sweater as you bend over to notice right away.

“Are you filming me?” Disgusting. Childish. Petty, just like him. Maybe he’s had more influence on you than he realized.

“Your face is priceless.”

“Give me that.” Ran doesn’t put much effort into reaching the phone. He would rather win for his cause. “Seriously, what do you want?”

The arm held up falls lax. He has a clear view of your home screen, so you weren’t taking a video. You just wanted to tease him. Fuck, you love to tease him.

Dramatically, your hand frames your chin in thought. “Well, I don’t want something that extravagant to go to waste, but it won’t go with every outfit…”

“No, not with colored stones,” Ran says absently. He guesses you want to get more use out of it. Gross.

“Okay, my compromise is whenever I wear it, you treat me like a princess, or perhaps, your queen.”

“Uh, sure,” he snorts. You already get treated better than any woman he’s ever known…by him, of course. He’s vaguely aware that some people do even more than the bare minimum, but those are other people. Baby steps.

“If that tiara is on my head, Hugh, you become a perfect and adoring gentleman.”

Ran wrinkles his nose. “What?”

“You heard me. That’s my compromise. Dress me that way and you have to treat me like royalty.”

“Like…” He rushes forward to sweep you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and thrusting his hips. “Princess Pussy?”

“Ran. Ew, no.”

“Queen Cunt?” Heh, he chuckles, King Comfort and Queen Cunt. No, don’t say that out loud.

You gag slightly. “Super not what I meant.”

“You’re already going to marry me, but you want me to worship you? No fucking way.” Ransom flat-out laughs.

“How did you get worship out of ‘treat me nicely?’” Your arms tighten around his neck, pulling your faces closer.

He exaggerates a groan. “I don’t know. That’s asking a lot.”

“Oh, right,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “Just keep on being shitty…even to your future wife. What could possibly go wrong?”

He huffs.

Ran is passionate about making you look good, not just because you are on his arm. Sure, he probably focuses on all the wrong things—all the selfish things,—but you easily think of the big picture and completely forget about yourself.

That’s already a balance. That’s already a big compromise.

And yet…

Ran’s looking at your face and admiring your playfulness when he could be ordering you to unzip his pants. He’s more excited to see you decked out pretty things than he is to say he dressed you. He’s concerned with how you refuse to spend money for you even though you’ve put no restrictions on him. That’s…that’s just a different Ransom Drysdale. That’s a man he wouldn’t recognize if he weren’t watching his reflection in your eyes.

Ran pecks a gentle kiss to your waiting lips.

“Okay, princess,” he coos, his arms snaking tighter over your back and his fingers plunging into your hair. He keeps you close, noses touching, hot breath mingling. “Shh, shhh.”

He hears the faintest whine escape you, and he just can’t help himself. He’s a petty bitch.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll fuck your ass.”

🙈🙇🏻‍♀️😝

sorry not sorry.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @starkleila

[Main Masterlist; The Root of All Ransom Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[kining-the-evil]

hello :) i absolutely loved your yandere haymitch hc’s and i was wondering if i could request a yandere haymitch x fem reader (can either be hc’s or an imagine) where reader is in her early 20s and another victor from district twelve? you can write whatever you’d like, i’m good with any level of yandereness and dark content! thank you <3

I’ll Protect You

Summary: Haymitch promised himself that after your games he would protect you, but after the announcement of the Quarter Quirl there isn’t much he can do

Warnings: hunger games violence, soft Yandere!haymitch, mental manipulation, angry Haymitch, drinking

An: I am genuinely shocked by the lack of Haymitch fics on here. I Hope it lives up to your expectations!

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

To some, it seemed like you had signed your own fate. Sure, you didn’t volunteer to fight in the hunger games and it wasn’t your fault that Haymitch was your mentor, but you had been kind to the man. The first day on the train you helped him to his room after getting drunk at dinner, and you brought him breakfast the next morning. While your fellow tribute got angry and yelled at him, you defended Haymitch.

How was he not supposed to feel something for you.

For the first time in a long time, he gave his everything into helping you succeed in the games. He painted you as the princess of the capital, charming and sweet, and someone they would all want to keep around. You got a tone of sponsors, all of witch helped you to hide and let the other tributes kill each other until the last hours of the games.

When you won, Haymitch thought he would cry. In fact, he did later on when alone. He was there immediately, in the infirmary when you came out, on the train, when you got home, and when you had to do your tour. And you seemed to be there for him, something he hadn’t had in so long.

It was less then a year before your ‘relationship’ started. If you had been on the outside of the relationship, you would have seen the red flags. The flags Haymitch justified.

He was older, but that meant he could lead you through this new life.

He was a drunk, but you didn’t seem to mind taking care of him.

He was possessive, but he was just protecting you.

You didn’t have a friend or family member who could warn you, and you fell into his ‘trap.’ You listened when he said you should stay with him, or when he didn’t want you to leave the house for months at a time. You listened when he told you how he was the only one who could keep you safe, that he would protect you because that’s what you do when you love someone.

“Good morning, Katniss,” You hollered when the door to your home opened. Despite the girls prickly attitude, you were so happy when her and Peeta had won this year. They deserved it, plus it gave you other people to see. Haymitch was always much less…intense around others. So the two of them coming in the home you and Haymitch shared was a welcoming change.

The girl didn’t great you other then a small smile before grabbing a cup of water and marching over to where Haymitch was passed out on the table.

“Here we Go…” you mumbled while grabbing a towel. You back was turned when his voice rang through the room.

“What the hell!?”

You hurried with the towel, getting to him quickly to start drying his head.

“If you wanted kind, you should have asked Peet’s to wake you up.” Katniss didn’t stay to chat, choosing to leave as quickly as she arrived.

“Thank you darling.” He took the towel to finish drying his face. His hair was a tangled mess, and the bags under his eyes highlighted the recent lack of sleep. He looked like a mess. But a simple smile from the man made you melt. Something about that smile made you willing to do anything for him.

“Of course.” You kissed his cheek lightly, feeling the skin of his cheek tighten lightly from his smile. You grabbed the breakfast you had made a while ago, setting it on the table for him. “I made this this morning.”

“Looks wonderful,” he slurred lightly before eating the food. That was one thing that brought you happiness, his smile. Even when he was blackout drunk, he still smiled at you like you were his everything.

The rest of the meal was quiet, nether of you really talking. The most anyone said was Haymitch encouraging you to eat a bit more.

“Do you have anything you have to do today?” You hoped he said no, staying alone in the large house was awful and you never really knew how long he’d be gone.

“Not really, other then damage control for Katniss.” He sounded tired, but pulled himself out of his seat to walk over to you. “I’ll have to go out for a bit.”

He pulled you to him slightly, scanning over your face. You could just imagine how someone else would react to how he treated you, the asshole alcoholic holding you softly.

“Promise me you’ll stay here, all day, and I’ll be back to watch the Quarter Quell announcement with you.” You shivered at the mention of this years games. You couldn’t help but wonder at what fucked up idea they would use for this year. “Hey,” he took your chin in his hand so you’d look at him. “Promise?”

“Ok.” You nodded lightly and he gifted you that beautiful smile. He placed a light kiss on your forehead before pulling away from you and walking away to change out of the clothes he had passed out in.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

The slight breeze bit into your skin as you pulled the large door closed behind you. It hadn’t taken long for you to get board after Haymitch had left, and you weren’t really looking to read a book or watch some Capital broadcast. So you had decided to take a small walk. You’d stayed out of the main part of town, keeping towards the fence on the boarder.

You walked through the house, getting a drink, and walking into the living room.

“Where were you?”

You jumped, letting out a surprised cry and spinning around to see Haymitch. He was slouched down in one of the chairs, a glass of what you assumed was whiskey in his hand.

“Haymitch! You scared me!” You chuckled a bit, giving him a smile. “I just went on a quick walk, clear my head-“

“Why did you leave?” He stood up surprisingly quickly, considering the half bottle of whiskey on the table next to him.

“I just told you? I went on a walk.” You chuckled, slightly confused. Was he…angry?

“You told me,” he set the glass down and walked up to you, caging You between him and the wall. “That you wouldn’t leave. And yet, I get home and you’re gone.”

“I-I didn’t think-“

“You’re right, you didn’t think. If you had, you would have fucking stayed here like I told you to.” His voice was dripping with anger, but his face was unreadable. That was something you hated. He could be so unreadable, and it made it that much harder to know what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry,” you offered. You didn’t know what he wanted to hear from you.

“There is no reason to leave without me, understand? I don’t want to ever see you out there without me, I don’t care if Katniss, Peeta, hell, I don’t care if Effy is with you.” For a moment his face cracked, making your breath hitch. If you could read it on his face that he was mad, then you knew he was mad.

“Ok, I won’t,” you whispered. He seemed to accept that, pulling to his chest.

“Good. Now come on, we have to watch the broadcast.”

He led you to the couch, sitting down before pulling you to his side. You tended to avoid any of these broadcast that you could, but you weren’t able to this year. The announcement of the new stipulation would be on, and Snow was adamant that ever Victor be watching.

It started normal, Snow talking about how the games were required for peace. He discussed the terms of the last two games, and finally he made the announcement.

“This year, to remind us that even the strongest are not immune to the Capitals power, the tributes for the 75th hunger games will be reaped from the existing pool of victors from each district.”

He continued to talk after that, but you couldn’t actually hear anything. The ringing in your ears blocked everything out as you processed his words. Victors would be chosen. It would be you are Katniss. Peeta or Haymitch. 

“Y/n? Darling, come back to me.” You vaguely recognized his voice as Haymitch gently shook you. “Darling, talk to me.” He tried again, but got no verbal answer. Instead, you folded in on yourself, letting him gently hold you.

“It’s gonna be ok, I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

“Peeta lives.”

Haymitch glanced up, practically glaring at Katniss. Of course she was already over here. “You should learn to knock.”

“Last year you fought for me to win, I want Peeta to win,” she repeated.

“Let me tell You a secret sweetheart,” he stood up to be face to face with the woman. “I don’t really care what you want.” She looked slightly stunned, but he just continued. “The only thing I care about, is keeping her alive.” He pointed towards the hall that led to your room. “In fact, I would kill you and Peeta if it meant she’d be safe.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Really? Don’t forget, Ive killed too. I’ve also convinced y/n to willingly give up any freedom she had. She willingly stays in the house, she moved in, she truly loves me. And I love her. And I’m sure as hell not letting that go.”

His voice was steady, eyes hard, clearly not playing. He was serious.

“I knew there was something wrong with how you interact with her. You kidnapped her, didn’t you.”

“It’s only kidnapping if She is here against her will. Go home, and you better hope to god she doesn’t end up in those games because I think we both know Peeta isn’t going to let me go in there. He’s far to nice.” He smirked lightly before walking away from the girl standing in his kitchen.

[mssr-crumpled-paper]

Gale and the Unperfect Victim

Here I am, back again with Gale posting cause I still have more thoughts on him as a character.

So, today, I read the phrase "the perfect victim" which is a myth often used to discredit the experience of female victims of SA, to dictate a way that victims of violence/assault are "supposed" to act. And when i tell you the concept of a perfect victim to anything immediately made me think of Gale, as well as the state of colonial resistance at large.

I'd like to preface with the idea that there is no "perfect victim" to any systemic crimes perpetuated. There is no one acceptable way of acting or responding to oppression or violence. With that out of the way let's get into the Gale analysis.

I often see people talk about Gale in this specific formula:

"I still don't like Gale as a character. His anger is understandable but [insert violent response to state sanctioned violence here].

There always seems to be such a conditional in the people's eyes of what is and isn't justifiable violence or resistance. To what means is a war just is one of the central themes of THG (or at least I believe so anyways).

Now this question raises a really interesting point about Gale's character. Obviously, Gale is meant to represent the other end of the extremist spectrum: kill all Capitol people indiscriminately, no matter their disposition and beliefs or levels of innocence; take down the Capitol at all cost.

This, coupled with the fact that Peeta represents the other end of the spectrum (do the right thing and hold onto conscience, choosing humanity for all ends) might present Gale as a heartless, cold killer.

Here we meet the instance of a "perfect victim." Subjected to seemingly relatively the same levels of oppression (some would even argue that Peeta suffered more), Peeta still continuously chooses to pacify. He represents conscience, which manifests in the way that he is soft spoken, generally kind/compassionate, white, blond, merchant's kid, unquestioningly devout, barely ever angry. Do you hear it? The sounds of a perfect victim, someone you're supposed to feel bad for because he didn't deserve any of this.

This view is revoked from Gale, someone who's fought, hunt, and kill all his life. Angry, harsh, not as well-spoken or charismatic, a possessive weirdo sometimes, and violent. His response to violence is almost always with anger, with the biting of the tongue until it bleeds, and then it explodes in everyone's face. "Gale is understandable, but..."

It makes me wonder how much compassion and understanding and help we can truly extend to a person who doesn't respond to violence the way he's supposed to. When they don't lay down and take it, or brood in angry silence, or extend a gracious forgiving hand. People would say he lacks humanity or compassion but I would wholeheartedly disagree. His dedication to his people, to his family, to his friends, to Katniss has manifested into anger and hatred for an imperial machine that has never cared if he died or lived.

I find it funny that somehow, this is always a trait demanded to be fixed by the oppressed. Even in post-war, post-apocalyptic movies where previous minority groups establish a closed community that's hostile to outsiders, that's a moral failing on their part. It fails completely to view the responsibility of the Capitol people, whose true extent of innocence can be argued against (how innocent are you really, when you're an exploitative force actively participating in the deaths and oppression of the lower colony-like districts).

Which then leads me to the posts I've been seeing about Palestine. So much focus on constant martyrdom, which is so important. SO important. But why are we turning our eyes away from their resistance? The truth of it is gratuitous violence is not their first choice, and resistance is always so ugly. We distance ourselves away from the violence to excuse ourselves of the need to have to justify the means to life of an entire people.

"By what standard of morality can the violence used by a slave to break his chains be considered the same as the violence of a slave master?” - Walter Rodney

Do I agree with everything Gale does? No. I won't attempt to justify his notions of violence, but I will beg you to situate them within the asymmetrical power context in which they’re committed.