#i think they could be useful to others if they were to ever create a partially deaf character or make a character from something hoh

[corviiids]

hello thank you for asking i am very flattered. i would be most honoured to give some advice that i am most certainly unqualified to give!!

ok advice 1: hey why does everyone keep telling me to read and write a lot

i think this is the most commonly given advice. i have always found it true but incomplete, because on the face of it this kind of focuses a little too much on volume. which by itself just isn't going to do that much for you, or it will, but it'll do it very slowly and ineffectively, because the second part of this advice i don't see nearly as much (and the part that makes it work for me) is that after you read or write something you need to do The Why Interrogation. what are you looking for?

when you like something, why do you like it? not just in terms of copying and learning an author's stylistic quirks or techniques, but in a more abstract way:

is it the narrative? that the premise is novel, that the progression of the story is unexpected and thrilling, that the stakes are high?

is it the characters? what is it about them? do they have compelling backgrounds? does the author spend a lot of time in their heads? is the pov internal in a way that lets you experience the story from their shoes? does their biased narration tell you more about them? or is it a detached narration that lets you see the characters in a way they don't see themselves, so the gap is intriguing?

is it the telling? maybe the prose is beautiful - what makes it so? sentence structure? unconventional use of grammar and punctuation? elegant, sophisticated vocabulary? or maybe the dialogue is sharp and human so conversation flows naturally. is the story paced carefully? does the author linger more in certain moments?

the same exercise is useful for what ISN'T working.

if your attention is drifting, what's making it drift?

purple prose? clumsy prose?

does the narration drag?

do the characters feel stagnant, and why?

plot doesn't make any sense?

maybe this sounds obvious, but imo it's a crucial piece of the advice that i just don't see as much because people tend to focus on volume of works consumed/created. the reflection and analysis is what makes that volume useful, otherwise you're just churning through content. the question should always be why, why, why. why did that work, why didn't it work, why did i like this, why does it suck. then proceed to: if i were doing this, how could i make it work?

advice 2: don't forget that all the words you need already exist.

this is more subjective advice. this is something that works for me personally. so ymmv. have you ever tried magnet poetry? you should try magnet poetry.

i always see writing as kind of a puzzle. if i have an idea in my head, the idea exists. the job is actually a translation exercise: how do i express the thing in my head as a thing other people can see? in this way it's like visual art, but it's also not like visual art at all. in visual art you choose where all the lines and colours go, completely freely. any line you draw is a brand new line.

in language, all your parts already exist. all the words already exist. (you can make new ones if you want but that's a whole different thing.) you are plucking symbols out of a collective understanding. it is like lego. all you are doing is selecting the most effective pieces and placing them in order. so for me, i am simply trying to find the 'right' words to fit each context as best as possible. it becomes a game of arrangement, which determines your expression.

then syntax and punctuation become your rhythm, which is how you determine flow. sentence length, word length, whether you omit words or use more, whether you want to be a bit unconventional. character also plays into this - i am not writing an advice 3 because i am getting self conscious but advice 3 would have been consistency of voice.

so i would prioritise vocabulary and timing. what are you trying to say (which words do you pick) and how do you want the reader to experience your words, how do you want the words to feel and sound (how will you pace your sentences)? remembering that all the parts are already there. it is the world's biggest game of magnet poetry.

advice 3 which doesn't exist: keep your voice consistent.

this advice doesn't exist. im not writing this i got embarrassed and stopped at 2. but if i did write this it would say, remember who you are. (remember who is writing your story. are you a character or are you god? remember how much you know. remember which feelings you have access to.)

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5

Day 5: Byler parallels with Jopper and Lumax

Decided to combine Jopper and Lumax into one post because a lot of them are similar and would actually be more compelling if they were all combined, being that Jopper and Lumax are definitely endgame (they arent in any love triangles or anything)

So again, I'm gonna name the parallel and how intentional it may be. Even if it's not fully intentional as a complete parallel, this still counts as evidence because using the same tropes for Lumax and Jopper as Byler means that they are all romantic.

1. I Lost You

The fact that Byler and Lumax's ones are in the same episode oh my god???? I honestly think this is intentional. While the 'I thought I lost you' thing is common in romantic tropes, to use it for three couples is very much insane and they must have noticed this. Putting the two in the same episode as well..... oh my god

2. Holding Hands

I think that the fact its a parallel is not intentional, but hand holding is just very very common as a romantic trope. It's also the truth that they actually create a separate SHOT for each of these moments too, to signify their importance.

3. A Team

(couldnt find a good screenshot with a caption for byler but there is alt text)

If you want two people to have believable chemistry, you make them work together well. It was never explicitly stated that Jancy were a good team, but you could tell. HOWEVER THIS IS JUST EXPLICIT they are spelling it out for u!!! Mike and El never really work together. They are a couple. But they aren't a team. They don't work together on plans, there's never any back and forth planning (like with byler in s3), and once again, it's never ever acknowledged by either of them that they work well together as a team.

4. On the Bus

Both heart-to-heart scenes use this song behind it:

Oh this is highly highly intentional. You do not just use romantic, TENDER EMOTIONAL music for one couple who are definitely romantic, and then put that in the background of a platonic scene. The creators are literally screaming at u guys here <3 THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE ROMANTICCC HELLO

(also both these scenes end with them smiling at the other and they get interrupted by a noise before anything else can happen)

5. We have to kill it

Sorry guys i totally forgot to include this one in the Jancy parallel post but literally fucking LOOK!! This is intentional to me because it is very specific, and if it's an accident that they all want to kill something and the other one agrees, then it still shows that these couples have chemistry because they are on the same page. AND one of them is reassuring the other, foreshadowing that they are gonna be a team in the next season.

Jancy are a team in season 2 after they have this convo in season 1, and Jopper are a team in season 3 after having this convo in season 2. So byler will be a team in season 5.

6. Staying in the Hospital

Honestly this one's just cute, and recontextualises the fact that Mike peers over Will on the bed, and stays by him (even though it doesnt really need recontextualising). The fact that its very romantic and cute for Lumax to do it should mean the exact same thing for Mike to do it.

7. Looking longingly at someone who's pulling away

erm this one is just so clear to me. Not exactly intentional but like- the thing with staring at someone longingly just to have them not look back at you is very slow burn romance. The fact that it's very obvious to ppl that Max is definitely aware of Lucas staring at her, but can't stare back because she's afraid to hurt him/ afraid to show her feelings again definitely parallels Mike too.

Also both Lucas and Max SIGH before going back to what they're doing...

8. TENDER EMOTIONAL MUSIC

so a tender emotional music scene for jopper makes it feel romantic:

Sooooo.... doesn't that mean that it applies for byler too?? Who had it done to them not one, not two, but THREE TIMES IN SEASON 4???

AND LUMAX HAS A SCENE WITH THIS TOO

Thanks for reading yet another long ass post :))) The next ones probably going to be Rovickie parallels because they actually have so many after doing my research so yeah

[superconductivebean]

Just my thoughts—as a fandom hermit of sorts.

Creating for nobody but yourself is actually discouraging when it's done repulsively. You'll feel its hard slap later down the line—unless your inner reader began to enjoy you as an author. They will gradually subside your inner critic and might teach them few lessons in how to appreciate maybe not the work itself—who of us doesn't have an one we dislike in some way?—but the craftwork went behind its creation.

How to do that?

Surprisingly easy.

Watch your creative decisions. Introspect. See yourself in your work.

You are inseparable in some way or another, your reflection is present within it, and by that I imply how you felt writing it and why did you think something would or wouldn't work. The only one who usually know is you, so, if you feel something is wrong, it probably is. The best is the enemy of the good, yes, but I'm not talking about perfectionism. I'm talking about the need to listen to that tingle and being able to assess it before editing.

Perfectionism is, in a sense, artistic pessimism. It tells you everything is wrong but it can't be an objective truth. Then some scenes must be wrong, and alright, good, the field is narrowed down. Which ones? Where? Why? At that point, put the work away for a day or two, then re-open, re-see, realise, that yes, that could be improved, except it isn't a scene. It's a sloppy word choice. It changed the sentence, that avalanched into a little rearrangement, and voila, everything works.

You fight the pessimistic outlook with a little bit of rest.

The more you learn how to treat your work, the more you might grow excited to try new things and not because you want to show them to the world but first to yourself.

That little part of you is who actually matter. Learn to love these little emotion abstractions. Care for the little guy, nurse them, feed them different ideas, styles, work them up to your master and see yourself forming in directions you'd never thought you would be able to simply because them—you—wanted to try something new. It would not matter if those were successful or not; when the entire process is a journey, the output's performance begins to matter very little.

Besides, the little guy would want company—and that's when other people come in. The reader doesn't like negative responses or no responses at all, true. Know who does? Your inner critic.

They're all too eager to overthink things and they're the perpetrator of your pessimism. So make them analyse why something clicks for many people and why something goes under their radar, make them a little analytics-building machine (which is also a skill), and just keep its outputs close in case you're curious how different fandoms or communities work. It's mostly a useless information. But you will be certain about things, and certainty brings comfort.

It will help to find readers in case you'd need more, too. Or if you'd like to meet someone new. But is it a guaranteed method? No, it isn't. Sometimes you'll write the most influential fandom monsterfic and all these people will pass by. Othertimes you'd write the smallest fic in the fandom but all its people will get around it because they liked your take on things or became curious with your ideas—and they can actually stuck around. You may never know. Fandom isn't business, it is rather a wild fair with barely predictable events in its main mystery.

Besides.

You can't make yourself a miracle to everyone; but be the miracle to yourself, and people will notice it and will try to comprehend you. Be Original, they say. They lie. They want the same jacket but red. Or the same jacket but sewn from kelps. Be Familiar But Be Outland-ish. Do your thing, that everybody else does, in your own fascinating way. Be the artist after all, be that bitch and leave people with the art-shaped holes in their thoughts.

I used to play an instrument once. I was bad at it, well, I was taught poorly and was only ever learning how to play from the sheets. It never go outwith or far and the instrument is long-sold, but I'm still able to recall the emotions I had while playing it. Heartbeat was the metronome, the hands were going in perfect synch, the entire body was able to feel the timings, and at some point, it wasn't simply the flow and going along with it. It was being the flow. The architect behind its creation—well, yes, the music wasn't mine, but being able to recreate it and make it sound as it supposed to sound was utterly captivating, enamouring, absolutely wondrous experience.

Years later I became enamoured with the writing—the process of it. If I manage to build the flow correctly and sail down my own rivers with little to no bump, unless planned, I'm overjoyed and amazed.

But will it go far? How well will it perform? Sometimes I do care if I know people might be interested, but beyond that, it's just doing its thing and bringing me joy because it's a puzzle, because it's a never-ending fascination—and because it's even more than that when done in the completely different tongue. And people take to it. Because it looks fun, perhaps, or it's something they had rarely seen before done in the language, or maybe it's just the way I tend to pick words and arrange them. I always get different answers. But what I know for certain: that something I found within me works both for me and people liking my things.

That what matters.

It all might sound a tad bit mental but it's so important to be in harmony with yourself as an author, as a reader, and as your own critic—who else knows you as much as you? Don't forget the people you have—the crowds will come and go, but the friends will stay.

Maybe this is a hot take, but as creative people, our #1 priority in our work should be ourselves.

It is not, AND SHOULD NEVER BE, what would get us the most engagement. Dispel "content creation," popularity, and monetization from your brain. Write, paint, draw what you want to! HOLY SHIT!!!!!!

The people who resonate with it will eventually show up. But the people who don't? Who cares???? The art you personally create is meant to help you heal, to help you express, to bring you joy and pain!!!!

You need to learn how to work on something because you deeply care for it and can revel in that self-satisfaction. Of course recognition feels fucking great! We all want it. We are humans, but you need to stop creating with the idea of other people consuming your work!!!

Give into the art movement. Create a renaissance for yourself. Fuck other people. Be that bitch! People are not going to be in your lives forever, and when you're left to your own devices, you should be able to look at what you've created and fucking love it.

[marchwardenofmordor]

The way I clutch my fucking pearls whenever anyone mentions Sauron and Galadriel to me like

*wretches*

ROP is fine. Like it’s fine. It’s fanfiction. It’s fine.

Ship Sauron and Galadriel if you want to, girls, it’s not up to me to dictate what you do for fun.

…But considering Melkor and Mairon, then Sauron and Ar-pharazon, Annatar and Celebrimbor… the way he canonically seeks out and seduces powerful men (with the exception of Thuringwethil)??? The way this bish crafted the form of Annatar specifically to seduce Tyelpe… (Which honestly considering the time period LOTR and the Silm was written in, and given that Sauron’s supposed to be the embodiment of what corruption does to a guy and is pretty much the antithesis of Victorian Society’s standards - albeit his industrialism - and that he’s basically the literal Lucifer - it only makes sense that he’d be lavender-scented)

Not only this but the Ainur/Valar and Maiar were known to pair up. And Melkor/Morgoth and Mairon/Sauron did not (pssst because they went for each other)

Please. When I say I’m gonna fuck Sauron, I say it with my whole ass, cock and cavern.

And I know Thuringwethil was technically his mistress or whatever but I physically cannot fathom Sauron ever being genuinely interested in women. Galadriel x Sauron just feels so viscerally wrong and I think ROP severely fumbled it in that aspect, because it makes no sense whatsoever. Celebrimbor was right there. Annatar was right there. THAT should have been the ‘situationship’.

Yet Amazon chose to create Halbrand instead to service the straight female fans and create a heteronormative semi-romance plot (despite going to lengths to be like “We love diversity!”) and I just—

*deep sigh*

Amazon preached diversity and then deprived us of a gay main (sort of) character. Gurl the haladriel shit was straight up cowardly.

While I loved Charlie Vickers as Annatar and loved the portrayal of Mairon, and also adored Celebrimbor… ROP was a flop in many ways.

The only way I could enjoy it was by reminding myself: this is just fanfiction. This is just some cis het fanfic which deviates from the canon.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sugar & Spicy Books Chapter 5

Summary:  Y/N is an accomplished writer who is newly divorced, and out of fear of the unknown, moves back to her small hometown she swore she’d never come back to.  She comes across her best friend that never left, who helps her out of a tough spot.  Will old feelings arise?  Or is she just too big for such a small place now?

Warnings:  language, smut

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Y/N settled into life in Woodstock.  Bucky fixed up her Beetle and she was able to drive her and Autumn around more easily while he had his own car at work.  While Autumn was in school she got started on writing her next book.  Her agent had been bugging her about getting started on the next one as soon as possible, but she was drawing a blank on what to write.  

“Ugh,” she groaned one night, erasing the words she’d written on her laptop as Bucky came out of the bathroom.

“Still having writer’s block?” he asked, taking off his shirt and crawling on the bed towards her.

“Yes,” she sighed, closing the laptop and setting it aside as he crawled over her lap and laid across her front in between her legs, his arms enveloping her as he started kissing her chest.  “I usually have at least a couple of rough ideas in my head but this time I’m just struggling to come up with something.”

Bucky nuzzled up to her throat, kissing and licking his way to her jaw.  “You could write about…us?” he suggested quietly.

“Us?” she smirked, closing her eyes as his lips traced up to her ear, hoisting himself back up on his hands so he could reach her face better, caging her against the headboard.

“Yeah,” he smiled.  “Childhood friends, separated by time and life, come back together by a stroke of luck, or fate, whatever you wanna call it.  Then they fall in love, realizing that they were always each other’s endgame.”

Y/N smiled widely as he pulled away slightly to look at her.  She hummed as she looked him over.  “You would make a great romantic lead,” she teased, nuzzling his nose.  

“You think so?” Bucky chuckled, nuzzling her back.

“Oh definitely,” Y/N said, leaning in and kissing his cheek.  “With your pretty face?  And those steely blue eyes?  You could be on the cover.”

Bucky hummed.  “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed, kissing his jaw and reaching up to scratch at his chin.  

“I’d love to read about our first weekend together from your point of view,” he said.  “‘Cause I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

Y/N chuckled.  “Really?”

“Really,” he nodded.  They had been together a few times since that first weekend, but never had been able to be as passionate or enthusiastic as that first time with a child in the house.  He kissed her lightly, giving her short pecks.  “As much as I love us being here, together, with Autumn, I really miss being able to make you scream.”  Y/N shivered at his words, her eyelids fluttering as she chased after his lips.  “You make the prettiest noises when we don’t have to be quiet to protect young, impressionable ears,” he smirked before reaching a hand up and gripping her jaw and kissing her deeply.  Y/N gasped against his mouth and moaned loudly.  “Sshh honey,” he whispered against her lips.  “She’s sleeping.  It’s a school night.”

Y/N whined, her head falling back against the headboard with a thump, making him laugh.  “So mean to me,” she pouted.

Bucky suddenly maneuvered her to a laying down position, hovering over her as his hands started feeling her all over.  “I guess we’re going to have to work on some material for quiet sex for your book,” he said, kissing down her chest again, pulling her sleep tank up and off of her.  Y/N was surprised.  Her ex-husband would have died of embarrassment if she had ever written about their relationship specifically in one of her books.  Bucky wanted her to write about them, he wanted to help her create the story, to inspire the sex scenes.  “God, I love these,” he breathed, nuzzling her breasts and kissing and licking over them.  “Remember how I said your stories made me horny?”

“Yeah?” Y/N asked breathily.

“Mhm,” he nodded, sucking at her nipple.  “Reading all those spicy sex scenes, knowing it was you that wrote them?  Got me so fucking hard every…single…time,” he emphasized his words by dry humping her.

Y/N moaned quietly.  “I think I’ve got an idea going,” she smiled, her fingers running through his hair how he liked.  “Spicy book writer and her childhood best friend turned hot mechanic?”

Bucky hummed again, pulling off her sleep shorts and underwear then smiling against her skin as he peered up at her.  “Sounds like a best seller already,” he smirked before dipping his head between her legs and eating her out like his life depended on it.

Y/N gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, her other hand gripping his hair.  Her legs instinctively tried to close around his head, and his hands pushed them back apart then looped his arms around her thighs to keep them apart.  She didn’t know where he’d learned to do this, but he was an expert as he kissed, licked, sucked and slurped at her pussy, his tongue diving as deep as it could inside her then flicking her clit fast.  There was no rhyme or reason, always keeping her on her toes with the randomness of his movements as he took his time.  It was like he was making out with her core, sucking at her lower lips, kissing the crease between her pussy and her thighs then tickling her there by licking at the area, then teasing close to her ass.  Her hips started to grind against his face, searching for release as her thighs deliciously burned from his beard.

With just a few more precise sucks and licks and a deep hum into her core she was cumming, biting back a whimper as her hand still covered her mouth, her heavy breaths from her nose huffing against her knuckles.  “Good girl,” Bucky groaned against her as he licked up what she gave him.  “My good, quiet girl.”  He hauled himself up as she trembled through an aftershock, kissing up her body until he grabbed her hand and moved it away from her mouth so he could kiss her deeply.  It was wet from her slick, sloppy and dirty, making her head swim as the desire built up in her core again.  “Taste so good, honey.  Tastiest pussy.  Fuck, I could just eat you out all day.  Can I fuck you?  Please?” 

Y/N huffed a laugh.  “I don’t know if I can be quiet through that.”

“You can,” Bucky said, slotting himself between her legs, pulling his boxers down just far enough down his thighs so he could hold his cock and rub it through her pussy, lubing himself with her slick.  The tip rubbed across her clit, making her hips jerk, and she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning.  “See?  You’re doing so well already,” he said, his free hand reaching up and his thumb pulling at her bitten lip.  “You’re gonna be so good for me as I…” he slowly started to push into her, watching her face as her mouth dropped open in a silent moan, exhaling sharp, punctuated breaths at each inch he inserted.  “Shit, look at you, being so quiet, I knew you could do it,” he praised her as his hips became flush with hers.  “Look at this pretty pussy, welcoming me home.  Goddamn, Y/N.  I can’t get over this.  Finally getting to have you after all this time.”

“That’s a good line,” Y/N whispered shakily.  “Can I use that?”

Bucky chuckled at her.  “You can use everything, honey.  I want you to write every little detail about this,” he leaned back down over her, rutting into her with shallow thrusts, teasing her with it.  “I want your ex to read it and be embarrassed at how he couldn’t get you off like this.  I want him to know how much better you are without him, by yourself, and with me.”  Y/N tried to breathe through the deep pleasure she felt at his possessiveness, imagining Raf’s shocked face if he read about a version of her getting fucked like she’d always wanted and written about, with this man being such a dirty talker and talking her through it.  “My good girl, being so quiet and tasting so sweet, just for me.”  His thrusts got harder and faster.  Her pussy fluttered around him, already so close after he’d made her cum earlier.  “Mmh, you like it hard and deep, dontcha honey?  None of that vanilla shit.  You like it when I’m rough with you?”

Y/N almost moaned loudly but he covered her mouth with his hand.  She nodded against his hand, her eyes pleading with him for more.  “I’m gonna plan another weekend just for us, that way I can have you screaming for me again.  You make such pretty noises, I have to hear it.  The way you say my name makes me go fucking crazy.”  

She hummed into his palm, licking him slightly as he pounded into her.  “FUCK!” he loudly whispered.  He moved his hand to a different position, his thumb prodding at her lips.  “Open up, Y/N.”  She opened her mouth and he dipped his thumb in, and she immediately started licking and sucking at it, her hands holding his wrist tightly.  “That’s it, Jesus…you’re so good, honey, you know that?  So fucking good.  So sweet to me.  You were always sweet, but seeing you like this, taking my cock and sucking my fingers…fuck…” He leaned back a little, the hand at her mouth gripping her cheek while his free hand moved down and his middle finger started rubbing her clit fast.  Y/N shuddered hard against him, her orgasm fast approaching.  “Cum for me, Y/N.  Squeeze me like only you can.  Let me fuck you full.  Holy fuck, yes!”

She came again, her body seizing as she stiffened and shook under him, her ankles digging into his ass to keep him deep inside her as she gushed around him, a low whine coming from deep in her throat and vibrating around his thumb.  Bucky gritted his teeth, grunting as he pummeled into her a few more times before cumming inside her, fucking her through her aftershocks and continuing to flick her clit.  Y/N’s eyes rolled as one aftershock turned into another mini orgasm and ripped through her, her body going limp.  Bucky couldn’t seem to get enough and kept flicking and rubbing her clit, smiling at her cockdrunk expression as she milked it out of him.  When he finally let up she breathed heavily, trying to return back to the land of the living.  

“I’m still hard, you feel that?” he asked quietly, pulling himself out of her and slapping his cock against her pussy, making her shake again.  “Can I fuck your face?  Get that last little bit out in your mouth, huh?  You wanna taste me?”

Y/N nodded lazily.  In this state all she could focus on or think of was him and all things him.  Suck their combined cum off his cock?  “Please,” she hummed.

Bucky moved her so she was laying on the bed still but her head was slightly leaning back off the edge.  He stood by her head and pumped his cock in front of her face.  “Suck me off, honey,” he said, prodding the tip at her lips.   Y/N opened her mouth obediently and he shoved it into her mouth, making her gag lightly before she hummed and opened wider, licking and sucking at him as he thrust in and out.  “Oh my god, you’re so good at that.  Fuck, Y/N, goddammit…shit!” he groaned.  She preened at the praise, her stomach fluttering with the pride she held at making him feel good.  It wasn’t like she was an expert at giving head, and had done it before, but with Bucky she truly enjoyed the feeling of his heaviness on her tongue, how much he stretched her mouth, the taste, and when he took control like this, the way he would use her but also be so attentive and caring to make sure she was comfortable.  He leaned forward and dipped his fingers inside her, a squelching noise sounding from in between her legs as his fingers fucked his cum deeper into her, his thumb rubbing her clit again.  She moaned too loud and his free hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed, making her gasp and her throat constrict around him.  “Be good, honey.  You gotta be quiet, remember?”  

He pulled out until she could suck at the head of his cock, her tongue rolling around him repeatedly and at the slit in the head of his cock.  Tasting his and her cum on her tongue as his fingers fucked her was making her delirious.  “I’m gonna cum again, fuck, you ready?  I’m gonna fuck your throat,” he warned her before pushing all the way in, and she struggled to swallow him down far enough.  Bucky groaned at the outline of his cock bobbing in her neck, his hand squeezing her throat lightly again and his thumb running along the outline of himself with each thrust.  She had another mini orgasm around his fingers, and Bucky shivered hard as he came again, his cock pulsing in her throat as she tried to swallow the hot spurts of his salty sweetness.  Bucky slowly pulled himself out of her mouth, his hand rubbing her jaw gently and helping lift her back up onto the bed until she was lying back normally.  “Open up, honey, let me see,” he whispered.  Y/N opened her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out, and he hummed in satisfaction.  “Good girl, swallowing all of me,” he said, then kissed her deeply, unafraid of tasting himself.  “You okay, love?”

Y/N nodded, her eyes closing tiredly.  “Yes, Sugar,” she whispered.

Bucky chuckled and kissed her again.  “Go to sleep, honey.  I’ll take Autumn to school in the morning.  You just rest, and dream of some good plot points.”

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Accident on Set

Plot: During a Buzzfeed interview stories of accidents on set happen to come up.

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairing: Paul Mescal x Reader, Pedro Pascal x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: blood/injury, sweet "father-daughter" moments, laughter giggles, just general fluff

—————

Doing a cute little BuzzFeed interview with Paul and some puppies was fun. The baby pitbulls play around between you, a gray one rests on your lap as you scratch its head, Paul using toys to keep their attention focused.

“Have you ever gotten an injury on set?” the interviewer asks, and Paul hums, letting one of the puppies gnaw at his hand as he plays with it.

“On Gladiator 2 during one of the fight sequences I pulled a muscle in my leg badly and was constantly on icy hots for a week straight, I strained something but it was not fun,” he says rubbing his muscle over his pantleg, “They had to work around shooting other scenes earlier while I was put on bed rest. I felt so bad.”

“I remember that call,” You pull another puppy onto your lap and it joins the sleeping one, “Luckily you had nurse Pedro to help with the healing process.”

Paul laughs, “He was just as banged up with his arm. What do they say misery loves company. And you?”

You give a sheepish look stroking the puppies’ fur, “I got my shit rocked by Giancarlo Esposito.”

The people behind the camera react with gasps and laugh at the normalcy of your words, while Paul looks shocked. “I don’t think I ever told you this, " you say honestly to him.

“I feel like I wouldn’t know if my girlfriend told me about getting assaulted,” he says.

“I wasn’t assaulted it was a complete accident,” you defend yourself and Giancarlo, “So it was during Season Three of Mandalorian in the finale there’s a portion where I’m taunting Moff Gideon and he punches me to shut me up.” you grimace already seeing the gears turn in Paul’s head.

You hear the doors open behind you as Gideon stands before a large hologram map, “Sir, the fighters and bombers have launched,” A commando says, “Their capital ship will soon be destroyed.”

Gideon is silent before speaking up, “But the Mandalorian has escaped.” Your heavy head perks up slightly upon hearing the news. Din had escaped. He was moving through this base. The whirring of Gideon’s armor as the Commando looks at him waiting for orders,

“Shall we engage?” The helmet is put on Gideon and you hear his modulated “No, I'll take care of him myself.” A hoarse chuckle comes fills the room and the commando stiffens Gideon is silent as it starts soft until it’s the only thing he can hear seeing your head shake. You look up at him the blood mouth and chin dried the hollow look in your eyes having a spark of malice.

“You’re dead…he’s gonna kill you.” You rasp a huff of laughter in your tone and you hear the whirring of his armor as it curls into a fist, “You won’t even last a minut-”

What was meant to be a faux punch you hadn’t realized you were too leaned forward until his fist, which was dressed in a decently heavy material that created the ‘beskar’ armor collides against your temple. If the scene was done correctly you would’ve ‘hit’ the ground before they paused to add the effect of a split eyebrow and a quickly growing bruise. What the crew hadn’t expected was the loud cry to come for you and with Tiya chained with her arms behind her back you hit the ground hard.

“Holy Shit!” Giancarlo shouts and it’s utter chaos. You can say you blacked out for just a second when he hit you, immediately feeling the pounding headache. You heard someone shout for a medic someone on the crew undoing the restraints so you could properly lay on your back.

“You’re alright Y/n,” Rick, your director calls out from beside you blinking back tears and seeing this crowd around you, Jon Favreau, Dave Filoni, and Giancarlo who has his helmet off a shellshock look on his face.

“Y/n I’m so sorry.” he pleads and you wave him off.

“It’s fine.” You reassure him though wince as your headache grows worse. The medic finally pulls up and the crew makes space for them to work. It didn’t help that you were already covered in fake blood.

“Y/n I need you to focus and follow this light,” one of them says before a tiny flashlight is shined and you follow his directions as he moves it from side to side.

“Pupil reaction looks good,” he says and you hiss as something is pressed against your brow, “You have a laceration across your brow we’re gonna get you to the hospital.”

It seemed almost unreal hearing laceration and hospital in the same sentence directed at you. It was hard to stop the waterworks, you’ve never been to the hospital before. You were going to be in one all by yourself, your family was across the fucking country and here you were crying getting put on a stretcher. Your assistant has to practically talk you down a panic attack during the ambulance ride to the hospital.

“I think I felt worse ‘cause I forgot I still had Pedro as my emergency contact for when he was on set for filming,” you pick at a hangnail, “I probably gave him a heart attack when he got that phone call.”

And a heart attack you gave him. Your assistant was on the phone with your parents informing them of your injury. Give them constant updates of being admitted, the concussion tests issued, and needing stitches. Then having to speak with your team while getting stitches put in to assure them, no you didn’t want to sue or press charges.

“Like I said for the fifth time Jeanine I don’t want to do anything. It was an accident. I just want to get back to set and finish today,” you say holding your phone on speaker.

“Are you sure you’re alright returning to set?” you hear her ask a bit frustrated but mainly concerned. No manager wants to receive a call that their client had an accident at work and was in the hospital.

“I passed all their tests and they are stitching me up as we speak. I just need to take antibiotics and I’ll be good. I wouldn’t be adamant if I didn’t believe I was truly alright.” you hear her sigh on the other end.

“Alright, I’ll have Cathy come to check on you after you finish filming today,” Jeanine says, “I hope you feel better.” The phone call ends as the doctor finishes with the last stitches. You were grateful for all the work they did, but you felt bad when they quickly rushed you seeing you covered in fake blood believing it was real.

Signing and giving any information needed to the hospital you had your team call head to the set that you would be returning to finish filming the sequence. Giancarlo gave you the biggest hug and apology on the planet with you constantly reassuring him it was an accident.

“If it makes you feel better we don’t need your coverage for that shot,” Rick says, “It’s a good take.” That makes you laugh loudly begging to watch playback to the crew’s horror to watch your accident. The scene was pretty sick and you took that punch like a champ. You all kept up with the rest of the filming schedule with a few scenes needing to get pushed to the next day given your hospital visit. Cleaned up and pampered by the makeup team when cleaning you up being extra wary of the stitches across your browbone. Like your manager said your agent Cathy arrived with a shocking guest.

“Pedro, what the fuck are you doing here?” your question is muffled in his chest as he draws you into a fierce hug before he pulls back. You can see the immediate concern on his face grimacing at the stitches.

“I got a call from a hospital saying you got hurt as your emergency contact, christ kid are you trying to kill me.” he pulls you back into another hug.

“Fuck I’m so sorry I completely forgot to remove you when you left,” you say before immediately pulling back it looked like he threw on the first thing and rushed here, “Did you fly from Calgary!” The wave of guilt crashes over you and he soothes you.

“Kid I’d drop anything to make sure you’re alright. I checked in with your parents before I boarded to tell them I’d make sure you’re alright,” he says resting his hands on your shoulders and rubbing circles to calm you. Your assistant never mentioned Pedro coming over but you were on such an adrenaline high and crash that the hospital seemed like such a blur.

“Now let’s get you home and get you all cozy,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder guiding you to your car, “I’m pulling out all the stops, Tex-Mex, true crime documentaries, and wine.” You and Cathy give him a look at suggesting you drink following your injury.

“The wine’s for me since you’re stressing me the hell out.” he says and you give a slight ‘oh’ as he keeps guiding you.

“Maybe it’s a sign for us to work on this project,” you say out of the blue as you climb into the passenger seat and he starts up the car, “I mean we both have given a blood sacrifice to Star Wars now.”

Pedro lets out a loud laugh at the realization you both have. Yours was a more serious scenario regarding getting injured while back in Season one broke his nose when he walked into a piece of plywood not paying attention.

“So this little scar I got,” you point right above your left browbone and Paul leans in close and hidden beneath the makeup you wear now he can see the shift in slightly raised skin from the scar. “Pedro and I are forever bonded to this show. Funny enough if you watch the finale they ended up using that take.” This makes the crew laugh at the comment. You see Paul’s slightly pouty face poking him until he scrunches it pulling away from your attack.

“I’m fine Paul. I handled it like a champ,” you say brushing fake dirt off your shoulder and he smirks.

“Didn’t you just say you cried the entire way to the hospital?” That only makes the crew laugh louder and you smack his shoulder drawing a chuckle from him.

“Shut up!” The laughter only gets louder before dying down allowing the interview to continue.

[waynes-multiverse]

Aww, glad you enjoyed the first part of this! I tried to capture him as best as I could. I definitely had too much fun with all the twists 😂🤍

(A hot tub in the back, huh? Wayne, stop giving me ideas for ESC one-shots. 🥵🫠)

Yesssss, girl! Please write that!!! 🥵🔥🫠

Ooh yep! You really picked up on aspects of Russell's personality that I felt inherently when I was watching (studying) him, but hadn't consciously put into words. 👌🏽

He's for sure a little enigma 😏 (and a little shit lol) I found it interesting when I read the books that he was described as reclusive, and even though he comes off as charming and quirky in the show, I still get the feeling he's hiding the biggest stuff underneath the surface... I really wanted to showcase that his behavior and words don't always match his feelings and thoughts 👀

It's also so interesting (and crazy) how little Russ and Colter know about each other now as men. There's got to be shades of who they were when they were younger, but it's bittersweet in a sense. And now they're both trying to suss each other out like lone wolves that are kinda sorta friends. 😂

Yesss!!! That's always something I wanted the show to address, so I had to weave it in there! 😂 And considering they grew up pretty isolated and only had each other, it made sense to me they would've had a pretty close relationship as children (kinda like Sam and Dean if they'd ever been ripped apart for 20+ years 🥲)

But naturally, they wouldn't trust one another fully after all this time. I had a lot of fun writing their suspicion mixed in with brotherly banter 🤓

Okay, this whole thing with the reader is fascinating. Because why does he have to go through all this trouble to find her if they've been a thing for 10...12...14...20-something years?! (Love how the number in Russell's "memory" just kept getting longer. 🤣🤣)

Russell giving vague estimates of numbers actually became a running gag lol I used it first in the prequel before sprinkling it in here too 😂😂

Not the "we were on a break" gif 🤣🤣 (But the topic of how broken up they really were comes up in the next part lmao)

I'm full of questions, but I know you have a brilliant master plan for all of this. I've noticed this about the most recent stories you've created, but you're so very good at writing these law enforcement/military men paired with heroines that share their world, almost the "same foxhole" type of deal. Except for that his heroine partners usually outrank him. 😏

Haha thanks!! I honestly think I get hung up too much on details and then it escalates into a monstrosity 😂

And you already now I love all things SVU, crime etc. A year ago, I then got super into spy/CIA novels and media (Homeland, The Americans etc.), so I've been dreaming to write something like this for ages and jumped on the chance with Russell's background 🤓

Lol yes they always outrank him, don't they? I might go with the "tough love" approach a little too much, but I always feel like the Beaus, Deans, Soldier Boys, and Russells of this world need that 😂🫶

Also something about a little submission in a strong guy is a turn-on... 🫠

I tend to go the opposite route, partly because I'm interested in the dynamic between these kinds of men and a "civilian," but also because I don't think I'd be able to do the "same foxhole" trope justice. So that's something I really admire about you as a writer. 💜

Oh, I know! It's actually why I love your stories so much because you go the opposite route of me and I get a different experience. I usually struggle more with the "civilian" characters 😂 For fluffier fics, I go more civilian as well, but I clearly had an agenda for this one lmao

The push and pull banter between Colter and Russ in this chapter was also so fun to read lol. I could literally quote every moment because it was all so well-written and priceless. And it just kept building up the mystery of the reader and why Russell is doing all of this, right up until that awesome cliffhanger!!

Aww, thanks! That means a lot 🥰 I had so much fun writing those two. At some points, they even gave me Sam & Dean vibes 🥲❤️

Thanks so much for that sweet comment, Alex!!! 🤍

Btw, I'm so excited to read the last parts of ATW and the ESC one shots!! I so wanted to read them before the new year, thinking a week-long stay with baby's grandparents would get me some Mommy time, but... family. My husband actually sent me this after we left and I still feel it deeply 😂👇

The Exit Strategy – Part 1

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there's one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, mystery, a tinge of angst, humor & brotherly banter, one tiny surprise 🤓

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Happy holidays, guys! Enjoy 🎄❤️

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 1: This Is Not a Pipe

The heavy truck door slammed shut behind him as Russell slid into the passenger seat with an exhaustive sigh. Colter’s big pickup was parked right next to his beautiful Chevelle in that same old motel parking lot in Virginia.

Russell hadn’t moved – yet. Well, sort of. He’d been away on assignment in some frosty region for a couple of weeks. He wasn’t allowed to say where exactly he’d been, and he knew better than to put it into writing, so let’s just agree he was at the North Pole looking for Santa Claus.

He could’ve ended up anywhere he wanted once he touched ground in the States again, but a very appreciated phone call from a former colleague made the decision for him. Besides, Russell knew this particular motel well. The coffee was more than decent and got the job done, the owner and employees were nice, comforting, and, most of all, trustworthy, and there were always fresh towels.

“Extra fluffy for you, Mr. Russell,” Rosa, the maid, would say every morning with the brightest smile.

Oh, and they had a hot tub in the back…

“Thanks for coming, man,” Russell extended his greeting without glancing at his younger brother once. He could feel Colter’s scrutinizing eyes on him, though, drilling for answers. Granted, his request had been rather unusual, so Russell understood where his younger brother’s ever-frozen furrowed brow stemmed from.

Providing answers didn’t come easy for the older Shaw, however. In fact, it had always been sort of a problem for him – even in the past. Especially in the past. Russell never lied, but he did omit things. Important things. On purpose.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Colter replied with a polite smile as he started the car and rolled out of the lot.

Ah, yes, politeness…

That was what they were at, although it was progressively improving. It was only the third time the brothers were seeing each other since they had reconnected. And while the last two encounters had given the Shaws some well-needed time to talk things out and build trust, Colter was still naturally wary of his estranged sibling. As was Russell.

“So, what’s this about? You were pretty vague on the phone. You in trouble?”

That finally caught Russell’s full attention. He quickly shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his face. “What? No! No… No trouble,” he swiftly assuaged his brother with a dismissive hand gesture and a lighthearted chuckle. “Just need your help tracking down an old friend of mine, is all.”

Colter quirked an eyebrow at that. “Another Army buddy of yours?”

“Uh, something like that, yeah,” Russell replied rather mysteriously and didn’t even try to conceal the fact that he was hiding something more behind his ambiguous answer. But Colter only intensified his stare at him and wouldn’t let go that easily. Russell knew that. After all, they were related.

Persistence was a Shaw family trait. Another survival skill, if you will.

But this time, Russell wasn’t hiding a big government secret (or maybe he was). No lives depended on this particular mission (or so he thought). He wasn’t protecting a client, a company, or even his dubious employer (but someone else). He wasn’t choked by an NDA or about to save someone in grave danger (as far as he knew).

No, if anything, it was the fact that Russell didn’t know how much he could or should share with his brother. They were related, yes. But, technically, they hadn’t seen each other in decades, so they weren’t just considered merely estranged but strangers. Russell had always been aware of that fact, and Colter was beginning to catch on.

Especially during this mission.

See, once upon a time, the two hadn’t been just brothers. After moving to the cabin, societal contacts became scarce for the siblings. All they had was them. They were friends. Best friends. Always competitive, but friends nonetheless.

How much did they really know about each other now, though? How much of the old was still there?

“So, who are we looking for? What’s the guy’s name?” Colter asked, suddenly eager as he jumped into gear. He had always been restless, even as a kid, which fondly reminded Russell of their childhood.

But how much was he still the Russell that Colter once knew?

Well, Russell, on the other hand, remained calm and ruffled a casual hand through his beard. “Well, she’s, uh–”

Eyebrow cocked, Colter snapped his head to the passenger seat where his brother started to squirm. “Oh… Oh, so it’s a she,” he emphasized with a small grin. “Now I think I get it.”

There it is. I knew it, Russell thought with an internal sigh. In order for this mission to work, he knew he had to reveal some things. Private things. Things about himself and his life. Going in, Russell knew he couldn’t ask Colter for help without giving him something.

Their father had loved tests (and so did you – but that’s another story…). Russell always thought it had been the professor in him. So, Russell saw this as a test as well.

Could he trust Colter? And more pressingly, considering some long held accusations of murder, did Colter trust him?

A clear of Russell’s throat cut right through Colter’s chuckle. And then, the eldest tried his best to give no reaction at all. “Yes, she’s a… woman, but hold your horses. It’s not what you think, okay?” Colter lifted his eyebrow once more, causing Russell to heave another exhaustive sigh. “Fine, alright? It’s exactly what you think.”

Well, close enough, Russell thought. He knew Colter couldn’t even possibly imagine the reality in his wildest dreams.

Usually, Russell was an expert in avoiding uncomfortable questions. He was a pro at ditching answers and keeping secrets, even under torture and duress. However, there was just something entirely unique about dodging questions posed by little brothers.

And Russell saw it as a perfect bonding opportunity. He wanted to fill the chasm between them that their father’s death had caused – once and for all. But he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t walking around on eggshells most of the time – something that reminded him of you again.

Learning from past mistakes, Russell wanted Colter to experience the fun side of him. The one that brewed his own beer, cared too much about his car, and had weird tastes in food. He chose to leave out the rest – the dark stuff and the very best stuff, too.

After all, Russell was good at omitting things.

Colter chuckled triumphantly. “Does this mean you’re finally giving up on Reenie?”

Amused, Russell let out a snort. “Ha! You wish… First things first, alright? Let’s just see how this thing pans out. It’s kind of a long shot. You know that exit plan I told you about?”

“Yeah, you wanna open your own brewery, right?”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say in an ideal world this, uh, woman would be part of that exit,” Russell said and sounded purposely casual as if he didn’t care the mission was successful or not in the end, omitting yet another thing – he did care.

He cared a fucking lot.

“Really? Okay.” Colter scratched his jaw and gave his words some thought. Then he offered a small, yet kind, smile. Honestly, Russell didn’t know what he had expected. “But, you know, if you want me to find the future Mrs. Shaw, I’m gonna need more information to go on. A name, last address, or a-, uh, a picture, maybe?”

“Well, name’s not gonna help you much in this case.” Your first name might’ve been shareable intel, but your last name was of the highest classification. “Her last address that I know of was in Berlin. And while I do have one photo of her, it’s not meant for your eyes, brother,” Russell said with a firmly territorial look that still carried a mischievous twinkle, revealing the exact nature of the photograph to be indeed inappropriate.

Russell had one naughty photo, yes. But he had a whole giant box of others, too.

Colter’s eyebrows met above his nose as he licked his lips. Customarily, people gave him more details when they needed him to find someone. But then again, those people usually weren’t his brother. “Do you know anything about this woman? How long have you two dated?”

“Uhm… not that long,” Russell supplied with a clear of his throat before mumbling the rest of his answer, hoping his beard would swallow most of his words. “Ten years. Give or take…”

What is time anyway if nothing but a concept, right?

Colter blinked at him and almost steered the vehicle off-road before gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I’m sorry… Did you just say ten years?”

“Well, might be more like twelve,” he admitted finally. “Well, anyways, saw her last three years ago.”

“Wow, okay, uhm…” Colter became quiet for a moment, speechless probably, the tiny bits of information running on a loop through his mind. He figured his brother still had lived a life while they hadn’t been speaking. Of course he had. He just never thought about what that life might have entailed, aside from classified military operations. “So, you’ve dated a woman for twelve years…”

“Fourteen.”

“…haven’t seen her in three, and know basically nothing about her?”

Russell snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I know. Ridiculous… Not even sure the name she did give me was her real one,” he said. It was a joke. He did know the name. He knew everything there was to know about you. So, maybe he did lie – sometimes. “But it’s the job, you know? It’s-, uh, it’s complicated.”

That part was true. Truer than he could ever possibly describe in words.

“I guess so…” Colter sighed, and Russell could hear the growing frustration. “So, she does what you do?”

Russell nodded. “In a way, yeah…” And Colter knew what that answer meant – he couldn’t say more. Again. “But don’t worry. We won’t have to turn over every stone on the face of this planet. I have a general idea of where she lives these days,” Russell provided. “One of my, uh, associates was working a job with her not that long ago. That’s how I found out she’s back in the States.”

Colter nodded in acceptance, knowing it was no use to try and prod more answers out of his brother. “Alright. Guess that’s something. So, where are we headed to?”

Russell then flashed him a grin with newfound determination sparkling in his green eyes. “Falls Church.”

The short drive had remained quiet for the most part. Colter refrained from asking more questions, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get straight answers out of his older brother in one form or the other. To accentuate Colter’s assumption of receiving non-answers, Russell mostly stared out the window with an intensity that had Colter believe his brother was counting trees when, in fact, Russell was pondering what he would, could, or should tell Colter.

Of course, Colter could also always ask more questions about their elusive father, but he didn’t do that either. Sure, one could say he was curious. More than that even.

What did Russell really know about his death? Their mother? Their family? Their work?

Another time, he kept telling himself throughout whenever he stole glances at his long-lost sibling. It was too soon. What was the point when Russell was so clearly reluctant to share anything at all?

Thus, there was nothing left but silence among peaceful woods and dense foliage till Colter pulled his truck over curbside in the idyllic town center of Falls Church.

Patiently, he waited a moment for Russell to open the floor and tell them their next logical steps. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, blew raspberries, clicked his tongue, and waited and waited and waited…

Nothing.

If Colter didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought someone carved a lifeless wax statue out of his brother and planted it on his passenger seat. Russell’s entire body stood motionless, only a set of green eyes flickered alive every once in a while and swayed out the windshield in search of something – or someone.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Colter asked with a clear of his throat. “You just wanna stay here and wait till she accidentally runs across the street?” It was meant as a joke, but to Colter’s dismay, Russell remained dead serious.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” the older Shaw confirmed and squinted his eyes at the busy street. Again, he had omitted a few things. In his mind, Colter didn’t need to know why Russell knew to be in front of the post office at exactly 15:03 (UTC–4) on a Tuesday.

Colter snorted a laugh. “What? C’mon, that can’t be the plan… Do you know how many people live in Falls Church? Or in the general Washington metropolitan area? We could be here for days. Weeks even…” The younger Shaw then switched fully into work mode, grabbing his phone from the Bluetooth car mount. “We’re never gonna find her like this. You got a phone number, maybe?” But before Russell could answer, Colter replied himself, shaking his head at his own silliness. “What am I even asking? Of course you don’t.”

Russell only smirked at that. Restless, he thought again.

“What about an old one? Maybe even that would help. I could call Bobby, Reenie… You got anything? Nothing?” But the younger Shaw’s questions apparently stumbled upon deaf ears. “Russell? Russ? Are you even listening to me? I’m trying to help you here. You could at least–”

“Found her!”

Russell almost jumped out of the car as his voice rang with sheer excitement. His heart was beating a mile a minute when his emerald eyes landed on the target. It felt like the very first time all over again.

Granted, the first meeting didn’t go so smoothly – there had definitely been some bumps (all on his part). Then again, he expected this next meeting to go a little roughly too (again, all on him).

“Wait, what?!”

Russell downright beamed. “Told you this would work.”

Colter only scoffed under his breath, the familiar competitiveness crawling back to the surface. “Yeah, well, beginner’s luck, okay?”

One boot had nearly touched asphalt before Russell remembered this wasn’t a situation that required him to storm in guns a-blazing – not even covert. Gentle hands, he reminded himself and swiftly closed the car door again, falling back into his seat. His lungs deflated.

Colter, on the other hand, was more confused than ever. “What-, uh, what are you doing?” Half-amused, his brow furrowed a bit more. “If you’ve found her, go talk to her. Where is she? Who is it?”

Curiosity could only be contained for so long. Colter wanted to know who had been a part of his brother’s life for almost as long as he had. He felt this was a key piece of information that would cause the first domino to fall. And then, revelation after revelation about Russell’s past would unravel.

Basically, Colter was waiting for the big epiphany. No pressure.

Russell vehemently shook his head. “Can’t. At least not like this. I need more intel first. You need to find out her name, and then we need your guy Bobby to get onto this.”

And yet again, guess what? Yes, Russell was, indeed, omitting things.

“Me? Why me?” Colter blinked at him. Surprise, surprise…

“‘Cause, obviously, she’d recognize me,” Russell pointed out. Again, omission. Like he had explained earlier, it was a real problem…

Colter exhaled a deep sigh. “Okay, and I’m guessing you’re still not gonna tell me why we’re doing all of this, right?”

“Nope.”

“Yup, thought so.” Still not convinced, Colter narrowed his eyes at his clearly paranoid brother. Maybe paranoia ran in the family. Not to point fingers – he recognized it in himself, too. “Do we really need to go through all that trouble? I mean, you’ve known that woman for, what, fourteen years, you said? Isn’t that a little extreme… even for you?”

Fifteen, Russell corrected in his mind. Close to sixteen. Nineteen max.

“Just trust me, okay? It’s necessary,” Russell reassured, knowing those words bore some weight. Hurriedly (he was getting antsy – this was a time-sensitive issue), he pointed a finger out the window to the sidewalk across the street. “You see that woman walking into the post office? That’s her.”

“What, the brunette in the flowery dress with the golden cross necklace? That’s her?”

“Yup.”

“Wow, okay…” Surprised didn’t come close to explain how Colter felt. He had expected… different. His brow almost met his hairline, but he still tried his best to conceal his wonder – to no avail.

Suspiciously, Russell leaned back in his seat and assessed his brother’s demeanor with a small glare. “What?”

“Nothing.” Colter threw his hands up in surrender, swallowing. “Just… She doesn’t really seem like your type.”

Amused, Russell stifled a chuckle. “And what exactly do you think is my type, little brother?”

“I don’t know…”

“What, you think some nice Christian girl is too good for me?” Russell deadpanned. Admittedly, he enjoyed bantering with his little brother. It reminded him of what he had missed out on for years. This was what he had wanted and longed for since he had left the family at eighteen.

Well, “left” wasn’t really the right word for it now, was it? It implied a voluntary act, and his leaving wasn’t so voluntary.

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Colter countered, laughing. “It’s just, you know… dental hygienist in a motel hot tub springs to mind.”

“Okay, alright… You done?” Russell huffed, shaking his head. He refrained from showing his honest amusement. “You’re gonna follow her in or not?”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Colter finally agreed somewhat enthusiastically and jumped out of the car, swiftly following the woman inside. After all, he was curiouser and curiouser…

Russell kept his eyes trained on his younger brother until Colter vanished inside the post office. Now, it was out of his hands, only hoping his little brother wouldn’t blow it. Chances were high he would. Not that Russell didn’t have some faith.

He just had more faith in you.

Colter spotted you picking up mail from a PO box and decided on a plan of action in a matter of seconds. After all, he was quick thinking on his feet and the best at what he did. That’s why he was here. That’s why Russell had picked him for the job, right?

As you made your way back to the door, Colter eloquently intercepted you without disturbing the crowd. Another thing he had learned from his father.

He bumped straight into your shoulder and almost tackled you to the ground by the sheer force of his sneak attack. The mail in your hands scattered to the tiled floor like autumn leaves, and as Colter bent down to help you pick it up, he took a peek at your name on a postcard.

“Oh my God, would you look at that… I’m so sorry, Miss–,” the younger Shaw apologized clumsily, “Nora Laurier.” He uttered your name with a suave smile as he handed you back your pile of letters. The flirt in his eyes, however, he only added for Russell as revenge for Reenie. “Beautiful name.”

Your hands lingered on the letters between you for a moment as you took in his features and tall stature. It left you with a strange haunting of familiarity.

“Thank you,” you finally said with a hint of a smile as he let go of the mail. “Be more careful next time.”

“I will. Sorry again.” Colter chuckled with blushed cheeks and watched you leave. He waited till you had passed the row of windows before exiting himself.

He was a good actor, too.

Antsy, Russell almost bit his lip bloody as he stared the post office down till a migraine began to form. God, what he wouldn’t pay for some X-ray vision and super-hearing. He could be downright Superman with that – and the hero always got the girl.

His heart dithered anew with longing as you walked out – it took his breath away. You always did that, and you did it well. But then, you stopped short for a mere second, which wouldn’t have caused a civilian to raise a single brow. But Russell did.

“Shit…” he mumbled in the silence of the truck and lowered himself down to the dashboard. He watched you reach for your phone in your purse and call someone as you headed down the street.

Eventually, you stopped three houses east and finished your call in the shade of a tree next to a busy (and noisy) bus station. Russell caught your eyes drifting back to the doors of the post office, though, just as his little brother walked out and jogged towards the car.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Russell ducked even further down, hitting his head in several places. “What did that knucklehead do?”

The driver’s door opened as Colter casually slipped inside. “Got a name,” he announced victoriously. Part of his happiness emanated from gathering yet another puzzle piece of his mysterious brother – meeting you. “She goes by Nora Laurier now… And she seems nice. Way too nice for you, actually…” As he drifted off, his eyes searched for the elder one before finding him almost kissing the floor mat. “Russ, uh… What-, uh, what are you doing down there?”

“What the hell did you do?” Russell’s tone was both snappy and frustrated.

“Whoa, what d’you mean what did I do?” Colter waved off defensively. “I did what you told me to do!”

“She made you!”

“She did not make me,” Colter brushed off with a laugh, quite confident of his own skill set. They’d had the same teacher. He would know if you had suspected anything.

“Then why did she wait and look after you, huh?” Russell pointed out in annoyance.

Colter’s lips itched to break a smile. He couldn’t help it. It was the perfect opportunity to teach his flirt of a brother a well-needed lesson. “Well, maybe I caught her eye… piqued her interest, you know?”

Russell cocked a brow from below, his stare lethal. “Did you flirt with her?”

Colter hesitated for a moment. Mostly for dramatic effect. “I-, uh… You told me to get her name. ‘Sides, I told you Reenie was off limits.”

“Oh, so this is about revenge? Very mature.” Russell frowned. “She still there?”

“Where?” Colter stretched himself a bit as he looked out the windshield.

“Tree. Bus station.”

An amused smile formed on Colter’s lips as he spotted you. “Oh, yeah. I see her. I don’t think she suspects anything. She’s not even loo-… No, uh, wait… Yup.”

“What?” Russell’s brows drew together as he rose a little from his crouched position.

“Yeah, she’s definitely looking over here.”

“Well, stop looking down,” Russell hissed through gritted teeth. After a deep breath, he spoke in a calmer, more advising tone, “Pretend I’m not here.”

“Trying to, trust me… Should I wave at her? Smile?”

“Are you nuts?! Just look ahead. Pretend you’re getting a phone call.”

Colter did as he was told and held his phone to his ear. “She’s still looking,” he informed with a pressed smile, barely moving his mouth when he spoke.

“Okay, what’s she doing now?”

“There’s a-, uh, there’s a car coming and pulling over by the bus station. Dark gray Audi A6. Virginia Plates. Yankee-Papa-Charlie-5824,” Colter said as Russell hauled a pen from his pocket and began to jot down the plate numbers on his left palm.

“Copy that.”

He’d memorize them anyway, but one could never be too safe. He could get a concussion in the next hour or so (most likely because of you), and then what?

“Okay, she’s getting in,” Colter narrated. “Driver’s in his late-thirties. Male. Glasses. Medium height. Medium build… I think you could take him,” he added with a teasing grin.

“Shut up,” Russell retorted. “Are they gone now?”

“Pulling away from the curb and… Yep, they’re gone. Headed south down the road,” Colter affirmed.

“Alright.” Russell popped back into his seat with a sigh and some sore muscles. He had been sure he’d heard a few bones crack while he’d been cowering down there. He might be finally getting too old for these missions. But that was part of the reason why he was here in the first place – retirement was calling. And Russell wanted to fill the chair next to him on the porch.

“You good?” Colter checked and choked the small laugh that wanted to escape upon the ruffled sight of his older brother.

“Yeah, go ahead and follow them. Just keep a low profile,” Russell instructed. “On our way, you might wanna call your op analyst, too. See what he can find out.”

“Alright,” Colter agreed somewhat reluctantly but still tailed the sedan. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“What d’you mean?” Russell said mindlessly, keeping his eyes focused on the target vehicle.

“Us… stalking your ex-girlfriend?” Colter noted with a cocked brow. “And her potentially new boyfriend?”

Russell only laughed at that. “We’re good. Trust me.”

Admittedly, though, a small part of him wondered (and worried) if this was all real. Maybe Nora Laurier wasn’t your real name, but it might be your actual new one – one you’d adopted as a safety precaution after you’d left it all behind. Maybe you had finally done it and retired, found a perfectly normal guy, and settled down – just without him.

Or:

Maybe you were still in the game, after all.

Russell was hoping it was the latter. Otherwise, he could probably expect a hefty restraining order in his future, but he wasn’t about to tell Colter that. Not until he knew for sure.

The Audi parked in front of an organic grocery store a few blocks down. Colter chose a spot across the parking lot, keeping a reasonable distance with the perfect view. Russell watched as you and Unnamed Man #1 sauntered into the store, an arm slung tightly around your waist and a smile on your face.

While on the phone with Bobby, Colter could tell that the sight of you in another man’s arms stung. “Okay, uh, thanks, Bobby.”

“What’d he say?” Russell fired as soon as Colter had removed the phone even just an inch from his ear.

“Uh, well, there’s some bad news,” Colter revealed hesitantly and licked his lips, not knowing how he was supposed to break his brother’s heart. “Bobby ran the plate number through the DMV. It’s registered to an Aiden Laurier.”

“Laurier?” Undeniably, Russell’s heart flinched at the connection. “Maybe a brother. Cousin…”

Or a colleague, Russell’s mind stubbornly added.

Colter bit his lower lip hard before he spoke, “They’ve been married for two years. I’m sorry, Russ.”

A hand comfortingly patted Russell’s shoulder. A part of him wanted to scream heavenward, but something else inside was gnawing on him.

He clicked his tongue. “No… No.” Sure, one could argue that denial was always the first step of grief. “No. No way she married sweater-vest John Mulaney over there.”

“I’m pretty sure she did. Bobby sent me the marriage certificate,” Colter countered and showed him the screenshot on his phone.

Russell glanced at it for a short second, not even bothering to waste more time on fake news. He shook his head. He knew better.

“Nah. I’m not buying it. You need to go in there and tell me what you see.” He sealed his words with an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Colter exhaled deeply. “Russ, I-, uh, I think you need to let this go, man. You’re starting to… Never mind.”

“No. Go ahead. Say it,” Russell prompted with some thunder in his voice. “I’m reminding you of Dad, don’t I?”

Colter only twitched his shoulders. “I mean, yeah. A little.”

Russell’s head bobbed in thought before he met his little brother’s eyes. “You really don’t see it?”

“See what?”

“The post office, the road crew over there, the-, the fake documents?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon… Just think about everything Dad taught us, huh?”

Was Colter really not getting it? Russell found that quite hard to believe. He had known his little brother to be as sharp as a whip. While Russell didn’t always have the nicest things to say about their father, he could admit the old man had prepared them well for life. Well, one life at least. This one.

The nomad life, the odd jobs that required them to have a particular set of skills like Liam Neeson.

Colter shook his head. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Russell.”

Russell let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat. “Alright, if you don’t see it, you don’t see it.” A smirk twitched in the corners of his lips. “It’s your funeral, brother…”

With narrowed eyes, Colter pursed his lips. “Alright, just tell me one thing, okay?”

“You know I can’t tell you anything,” Russell reiterated and brushed his beard.

“I know. I know… It’s not that kinda question,” the younger Shaw reassured.

“Go ahead,” Russell relented and curiously looked at his brother.

Within a second, Russell could think of a million questions Colter might want to ask him, but this hadn’t been one of them:

“In the past three years, how many times have you thought about her? And I don’t just mean ‘crossed your mind’ every couple of months. I mean ‘seriously thought’ about her?”

“Hmm.” Russell pondered for a moment before replying, “Every damn day.”

It wasn’t a lie, no omission of anything, and Colter could tell. You were the first thought that popped into Russell’s still groggy mind when he woke up and the last one every night that fluttered across his weary eyelids. Obviously, he didn’t give Colter the soppy answer, though.

“Fine. I’ll go,” Colter softened his stance. “You owe me,” he added with a pointed finger before setting foot outside the car.

“I do owe you. Anything you want, brother,” Russell agreed with a broad grin. “How about we start with a full case of my homebrew, huh?”

Colter danced gracefully through the aisles, spying through canned goods and boxes of cereal. He watched you carefully select fruit with your husband, move through the dairy talking about “organic” and “locally sourced” till you landed on a few choices of toothpaste and finally strolled to the cash register.

Everything seemed boringly normal and ordinary. You chatted with the cashier. They handed you a coupon, which you slipped into your purse. Your husband paid with his credit card (which carried the same name matching the DMV records), and both of you left the store with two paper bags in your arms.

Once through the sliding glass doors, you stopped and turned to your husband. “Darn, honey, I think we forgot the milk.”

“You want me to grab it?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

“Okay, I’ll wait by the car and load the rest of the groceries.”

Now, Colter found that odd. He had watched you spent at least five minutes in the dairy aisle. How could you forget something as basic as milk?

As you hushed inside, your husband sauntered back to the car, and Colter followed you back in. You passed right by the dairy and, with a few looks that resembled a scan of your surroundings, you slipped past the door that led to the restrooms.

Waiting a beat, Colter went in after you. But you were long gone – just not to the restroom. An ‘Employee Only’ door that led to a dumpster alley outside was just falling shut.

Granted, Colter had a bad feeling about this. It was the same feeling he always got shortly before walking into a trap. In his defense, though, you were not a seven-foot-tall, 300-pound kind of guy. He wasn’t about to be ambushed by Shaquille O’Neal, which is probably why Colter didn’t find it necessary to pull his gun.

In hindsight, he should have.

The narrow alley was quiet and empty, except for some trash littering the ground around the dumpsters. It was closed-off, too, wedged between buildings with no view to the parking lot or nearby streets.

And then, something hit him. Or better yet: You hit him. With an elbow to the face and a stiff, flat palm to his throat, Colter stumbled forward before you gave him the final blow and knocked him off balance, tackling him to the ground.

Pressing his cheek into the rough and unforgiving surface of the asphalt, you jumped on him and restrained his arms tightly behind his back. While he squirmed to get out of your hold, he didn’t use as much brutal force as you expected he would.

“Shit,” he muttered below you, his voice muffled by the gravel. A light chuckle escaped him. “Okay, you got me.”

“Sounds about right,” you agreed with a smirk and tightened your grip on his arm.

Then, Colter heard a gun click above him. Hoping to see his brother, he looked up – only to find your husband with a weapon in hand as he stared down the barrel.

“Ah, I think you broke my nose,” the younger Shaw mumbled with a groan.

“Good. You’ve been following me. Why?” you prompted sternly. “Who are you? Who are you working for? Jafari? Mueller?”

“Listen, I-I think you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not who you think I am,” Colter argued with a strained voice. What the hell had Russell gotten him into? “This is just a big misunderstanding.”

“Uh-huh.” You could only roll your eyes at that. How many times had you heard that line before?

“Let’s hood him. Get him to the Market,” your partner suggested. “We’ll see if he talks then.”

“No, really,” Colter insisted, growing a bit more uneasy. He had no idea what the Market was, but it didn’t sound pleasant. “You know my brother.”

“Who’s your brother?” With your elbow, you put more pressure on his back.

“Ow, alright…” Colter groaned once more as the pain intensified. “Looks kinda like me. Think two decades younger. He was in the Army, so probably didn’t have long hair and a beard. Uh, kind… green eyes? No? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

Colter watched your brow furrow in his periphery as he squinted upwards. He could see the gears starting to turn in your head. You just needed one final push to put all the puzzle pieces together.

“If it helps, my name is Colter. Colter Sh–”

“Shaw,” you shot like a missile. Your jaw plummeted to the ground, your heart springing right out with it. Your grip on the man caught between your thighs loosened, hearing Colter’s sigh of relief before you heard his voice.

“Hiya, sweetheart.”

Your head darted up, the man beneath you long forgotten. You swallowed as your eyes landed on an all too familiar face – even when it was covered by a bunch of hair that had never been there before. The heart-crushing smile was still the same as if it had been ripped straight from an old photograph you had of him.

“Russell?!”

Part 2: This Is a Russell Mission

Quite the entrance! Writing Russell reminded me somewhat of Plastic Hearts Dean (minus the addiction problems unless you count lying) because of all the wild overthinking 😂

If you enjoyed this story, then I'll gladly keep working on its prequel. Was a bit nervous to post this since I filled in some family history gaps myself 😅 I also dove into the books a little and added some things that kinda fit their "show" personalities.

Please let me know what you think and if you'd be interested in a young soldier!Russell series 😉🤍

TAGS:

Forevers: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@thebiggerbear @star-yawnznn

@deansimpalababy

[solaiced]

i felt generous so today im ranking the eaters🤑🤑 of jjk

11—choso.

poor baby:( he just came out of the jar, don’t blame him, he doesn’t know how to. but he learns quickly, and he’s motivated! so don’t worry, even if he munches your clit the wrong way, he’s very open to criticism.

10—satoru.

he sucks. but, fear not, his ego is big enough to use toys in the bedroom so that you’re satisfied. and his cock is just as big to fill you up in all the right sweet spots! so you still manage to cum. eating you out is just prep to prepare you for what’s to cum.

9—takuma.

he doesn’t really know he’s bad, and honestly you feel bad for him. you were each other’s first times, so it’s not like you could teach him. but as time progresses, he’ll get better, and eventually be a pro!

8—yuki.

before you, she’s only ever dated and fucked men. so it’s obvious that she only knows the basics. she manages to make you cum, though, so you don’t complain too much.

7—kento.

again, you were each other’s first time, so there’s not much he knows about eating out. sure, he’s read stuff about it, but it’s easier said than done. he does have an insane stamina, so even though it takes long, it’s very satisfying when he’s done.

6—sukuna.

sukuna likes the taste of your pussy, which is why he insists on eating you out almost everyday. did i mention he’s never eaten someone out before? you think he practices on you a lot. one honorable mention was when he accidentally bit your clit too hard and you squirted immediately. he took note, by the way.

5—toji.

the eaterest of all eaters. doesn’t hesitate to stretch you out with his fat fingers while spitting on your nub, biting and sucking roughly. toji might as well get a reward from how hard he makes you cum.

4—utahime.

you were her first(and last) woman, but despite that, she eats like a pro. attending to all of your sweet spots, dipping her tongue inside your cunt from time to time, circling her thumb on your clit and curling her fingers on your g-spot. she played you like the finest instrument, and the climax is always early, about three minutes into it.

3—hiromi.

his nose is godsent, along with the rough pads of his fingers inside of you. no one knew the well-kept lawyer would ever eat so dirty, spit dribbling down his neck as he looked up at you with his big brown eyes. his fingers would plunge into your heavenly cunt while he would shake his head to knock his nose against your clit. and each time, you’d cum no less than two minutes later.

2—suguru.

the first time he ate you out, you had challenged him, claiming he probably couldn’t make a woman cum. you were so so wrong. you had never cum so fast in your life, and he only used his tongue! it pressed against your clit and created an insane suction on it, slobbering all over your pussy. you lost not only your dignity, but also ten dollars. :(

1—shoko.

our winner (loves winning). she eats them all. shaved or not, she is the ultimate eater, slapping your clit while fingering you. her mouth soothed your sensitive nub after each spank, sucked on your folds to taste your slick. overall, she’ll make you cum in one minute tops. you swear to god your moans have never reached such pitch before her. oh, and if you squirm too much, she doesn’t hesitate to bite your thigh and tie you up. she can show you how surgeons tie knots. ;)

@somnoo you yelled at me last time i forgot to tag you so💔😞

wrote this on my notes so forgive me for formatting problems idrc

[burnwater13]

Din Djarin holding Grogu, while brandishing his pistol. Image of 1/6 scale Hot Toys Din Djarin Mandalorian, showing Pedro Pascal's face, with box and other images in the background. Photo by me.

Grogu had been splitting his time between his dad, who was spending the majority of his time swapping stories with his friend Lacc Straso, and Dagon and Peli, who were working diligently on fixing the N-1. Grogu’s official job was to keep the other droids and mechs out from underfoot, except for Thirty, who was a real expert at starship maintenance. Everything was going pretty well, until Grogu heard a thump, a crash, and a ‘for cryin’ out loud’ from Peli. That last bit got everyone’s attention. 

Grogu rushed in to see what had happened. He’d designated himself as the lead first responder for any injuries, fires, spills, or arguments between the two lead technicians. He hadn’t had to take care of any of those things yet and was glad to have a chance to leap into action. When he entered the repair space he couldn’t tell what the problem was. Peli wasn’t jumping up and down as she so often did when she dropped a tool on her foot and Dagon wasn’t doing anything other than trying like heck not to laugh. 

“Any one care to explain what happened? That didn’t sound like a good sort of crash.”

Trust his dad to get right down to the nub of the problem.

“Actually, it was a good sort of crash. Peli and I had been discussing how the lower housing of the thruster control tunnel was assembled because we have to take it apart to replace the part that created the failure mode you noticed, and it just required a tap from a mallet. You’re very lucky that hasn’t fallen off during your use of the ship. Apparently none of the fasteners were in place and that’s what we’d been talking about.”

Dagon was smiling and seemed pretty happy with himself. Grogu could understand that. They had been trying to fix one problem, located another, and would be able to fix them both. A sort of win-win-win. But just one glance at his dad told him that Din Djarin was not happy with that answer. They’d traveled all over the galaxy with that what ever it was housing not being properly attached and Grogu knew that his dad was imagining everything that could have gone wrong anytime they had used the N-1. That was a lot for a Mandalorian to take in, especially one like his dad, who was so proud of that ship and the paces he had put it through. 

It was like riding a fathier in a race and discovering, after you cleared the seventeen jumps and run that five klick track to post the fastest time ever, that your saddle had never been clipped properly and any wrong move would have had you eating dirt and being trampled. Which was strange, because Grogu was pretty sure that Mandalorian training included all actions to take when something went wrong. If anyone was going to be prepared for that, it had to be Din Djarin. 

“Lacc? Do you mind keeping an eye on these two? I think Grogu and I should go fishing.”

“Right now?”

Lacc was shocked at his friend’s request and so was Grogu. Grogu wasn’t sad about it, but he was pretty surprised. He wondered why his dad thought right now was a good time to go fishing.

“Yup. This whole thing started because Grogu wanted just spend the day with me fishing. We were going to go to the Pika Oasis. Then I got that armor that once belonged to Pre Vizsla and it became apparent that I needed to go to Mandalore and sort that out. But that’s when the N-1 had the malfunction and I found out you were still here so I thought we’d just hitch a ride and go to Naboo. Now, I realize I just should have taken Grogu fishing. He’s been a real trooper about all this and I don’t want to take that for granted.”

Wow. Grogu had never heard his dad speak for such a long period of time when no one was threatening either one of them. He felt so special right then he didn’t know what to do. 

“Ah. Spoken like a father. Good for you Djarin. Of course I’ll watch over these two. When you and Grogu return from the Oasis, the ship will be working, you’ll have had some time to relax, and I can tell you who to talk to about that armor. That should save you some time.”

Grogu could hear the pride in Lacc’s voice, as well as something else. Maybe it was happiness? Joy? Humor? He couldn’t tell. It was another good example of why Mandalorians should be able to take their helmets off whenever they wanted to. Then Grogu would know if the older man was just happy for his dad or if was teasing him about something.

“Thanks. Okay, Grogu, come on. We still have a few hours of light left. We can catch some gorgs, or some scalefish. Didn’t Diggle and Daggle say that the Oasis was home to scalefish?”

The Mandalorian had scooped Grogu up in the most undignified way, but considering how sentimental his dad was being about the whole, could have faced a catastrophic in-flight failure at any moment in the N-1, Grogu decided not to make a big deal out of it. Instead, he tapped his head against hid dad’s helmet and chirped that everything would be all right. The worst thing that could happen at the Oasis was getting sand in his armor or even falling in the water. But Grogu was prepared to help with one of those because he found the Mandalorian’s choice of words when he sand in his boots of the crevices of his cuirass more than a little fascinating. 

“What? You two are leaving just when this is gettin’ good? Hope you have a good time. It you’re lucky you’ll only bring back a good appetite. Ha!”

Grogu just smiled at Peli. He understood that she liked having an audience, but sometimes you just had to spend time with the person who meant the most to you, even if they weren’t very good at fishing, didn’t actually eat fish, and hadn’t remembered to bring the fishing gear with them. But that was fine. He just hoped that they had some fun doing something that other dads did with their children. You know, spending time talking about how everything was better, worse, more fun, more dangerous, and not nearly as nice as it could have been, until you joined their lives. Then they just lived with their heart’s outside of their bodies and worked to get used to it. So a good time, all around. Yippee!

[corralinesage]

Learning you by heart (15/?)

One more chapter after this!! 🤭

Chapter 15: Here and now

“Where’s the body?” Wanda walked into the more open space in Natasha’s living room, her hands crackling with red, sparks appearing alongside a faint scarlet glow around her irises.

“I burned it behind a dumpster in New Jersey.” Their eyes met, Wanda’s wide from shock.

“Fuck… Natasha.” There was a hint of chastise in Wanda’s tone and for a good reason.

“Not my proudest moment.” Natasha shrugged.

“That’s-” Wanda was struggling to find any kinds of words for the information she had just received. “Must’ve been awful.”

“Just another kill.” Natasha’s voice was heavy, her grim features countering her words rather heavily, but Wanda didn’t comment. Natasha’s life had gone astray badly enough to not need any reminders of or judgement over what she had had to do to achieve it all.

“I think it’s best we get going then. There’s nothing here for us anymore.” Wanda looked apologetic as she raised her hands up.

“Take me home… please.” Natasha looked tormented, her hand clutching the Polaroid picture of you. “I…” Her voice disappeared as she nearly broke down.

“It’s okay, Natasha. I got you now.” Wanda changed her stance, preparing herself to go through the effort of creating a portal. A large abrasion ripped into the air in front of them, but it disappeared just as quickly as Wanda had created it.

There was a knock at the door, both of their heads turning in the direction of the sound before flitting quickly at the other’s face to make sure they had both heard it. Wanda dropped her hands, the red glow disappearing immediately, Natasha turning toward the door expectantly as if it might just open on its own. They looked at each other again, the corner of Wanda’s lips drawing up into a slight smile. Natasha looked hopeful, but there was also fear mixed into that expression on her face. She didn’t have it in her to believe that it was you behind that door, yet it was all she was hoping for. Wanda’s hand touched Natasha’s arm, nudging her gently toward the door.

“Don’t forget what you can have”, Wanda’s words tugged at Natasha’s chest, her heart racing as she walked to the front door of her variant’s apartment, her hand finding the doorknob and twisting it slowly. She almost couldn’t believe that you were standing there, eyes bloodshot like it hadn’t been all that long since you had stopped crying, Wanda standing beside you. Natasha opened the door wider, hearing her Wanda’s footsteps behind her.

“Hi.” Natasha wanted to pull you into her arms, her body yearning to feel your own, to squeeze you tightly enough to ensure you could never slip away from her again.

“Hi.” Your voice was timid, wary of the fact that you crawling back to her might not have been as welcome as you were hoping it to be. Your eyes flitted down to the floor briefly before coming up to Natasha’s face, but your words got caught in your throat when Wanda emerged into the doorway. Your eyes widened in shock, your jaw dropping rather comically. You looked at Wanda beside you, grasping her hand as if to test if she was still right there beside you and as real as ever. Wanda was less shocked by her variant’s presence than you were, but she still seemed rather astonished by what she was seeing, her shock sidelined by curiosity. The disbelief on your face was evident yet all you could do was believe your own perception and the very reality that you were witnessing as your gaze went back to the doppelgänger of your roommate and best friend. “You were telling the truth”, you gasped quietly.

“I would never lie to you, not if I might lose you because of it”, Natasha whispered, smiling gently, your eyes itching with tears.

“Sort this out”, Wanda said from behind Natasha, her attention shifting to her variant. “You and I need to talk.” Your Wanda looked rather taken aback but she nodded in agreement immediately, letting go of you and allowing you to go inside Natasha’s apartment as both Wandas went into the hallway. You stared after them through the door that Natasha closed between you and them, only moving into the living room when Natasha’s hand brushed over your forearm as if wishing to grab your hand, but she let go before she could reach your wrist. A small, hopeful smile found your lips as you followed her to the couch. You took a seat on the cushions, recalling your tipsy night there, your eyes threatening to itch with tears again. It was now or never. You could have more of those moments, infinitely more, if you just managed to trust her and undo the damage that you had done by lashing out on her.

“I guess I should start off with an apology”, you hummed, still quite shaken from having witnessed two of Wanda. “I- I don’t know what got into me.”

“I don’t blame you, dorogaya (darling). I know it’s beyond the comprehension of many.” You nodded at her words, glad to know that she was understanding.

“I was cruel.” You couldn’t even look at her, still struggling to wrap your mind around everything. It felt like you were missing bits and pieces of the fight, of the thoughts that had been regurgitating in your mind all night.

“You were reacting”, Natasha said placatingly.

“I shouldn’t have said a lot of the things I did.”

“Maybe not”, she hummed, placing her hand on your knee in an attempt to make contact with you. “But you’re here now.” Your eyes rose up to meet hers, your gaze wary, longing.

“I am.”

“What does that mean?” You could tell that she was asking in all earnest. She didn’t want to get her hopes up and start to imagine that any kind of a happy ending was even remotely in her reach.

“I don’t know”, you whispered weakly, unsure of what to say or how to continue from the fallout you two had had.

“What made you come here?” Natasha’s stomach ached, her heart hammering in her chest from anxiety. She could not take any more.

“You. I can’t seem to stay away.” You let out a slight chuckle as if in an attempt to bring levity into the situation, but it did little to coax a smile on Natasha’s face. You remained silent for a while, sorting through the thoughts in your head. You felt your throat squeeze shut, your head aching from your sleepless night. “I think I’m in love with you.” Natasha couldn’t react to your words. She couldn’t receive them. She couldn’t let her heart be torn apart once more. She had nothing more left to give.

“Don’t say that.” Your heart sank. “I’m leaving.” She stared into the interior of the house, ignoring your tormented face on purpose. Your heart started hammering in your chest ruthlessly, your lungs feeling empty, drained of the air that you couldn’t seem to breathe no matter how you tried.

“No.” Natasha’s head turned to look at you at the sound of your pained voice as if to make sure she had heard right. “No, no- You can’t.” You sounded teary, the lump in your throat preventing you from articulating clearly, your hands reaching for her own.

“There’s nothing here for me. It’s all a distant mockery of what I’ve lost”, Natasha mumbled, shaking her head in defeat.

“I’m here”, you whimpered, your hands squeezing her forearm even tighter.

“I can’t trust that it’ll work.”

“Natasha.” You could not believe your ears after all the effort you had put into figuring out your feelings.

“I’m going. I don’t belong here.”

“Yes, you do.” You felt helpless. “What about all the weeks we spent together? Did they mean nothing to you?” Your eyes were filled with sorrow and pain.

“They did and they do, but I have no fight left in me. I can’t risk it. This might be my only ticket home.” She nodded her head as if agreeing with herself and choosing to fully carry through with her decision.

“No! No, you do not get to do that!” You suddenly sprung up from the couch, unable to control the jumbled-up feelings inside you. “You do not get to come here and make me fall in love with you, only for you to leave me at the first bit of hesitance you sense.”

“Y/N”, Natasha began in a quiet, weary tone, but you interrupted her.

“I’m allowed to be careful!” You looked exasperated, your lower lip trembling, chest heaving with your heavy inhales.

“Y/N”, she tried again rather calmly. “I love you more than anything. Losing you for a second time will kill me.” She sighed softly to herself. “We can never work.”

“No-” Your tone was close to begging.

“I was foolish to think that I had a place here, that I could love you how I loved you before.” Natasha looked devastated, her bloodshot eyes and blotchy skin truly emphasizing her pain. “I don’t expect you to understand.” You seemed to calm slightly down at her words as you sat back down on the couch beside her, closer than before, your hand finding her own again.

“Then help me understand. Maybe you don’t have to love me the way you used to. Maybe we can figure it out as we go”, you suggested carefully, mindful of overstepping her boundaries after nearly exploding on her once again. “Tell me more about myself, about us, all of it. I can’t understand if you don’t give me a chance to.” Natasha knew from the look in your eyes that you were seriously asking to be included in her complicated situation. There was logic to your words. Why reach for the unreachable when she could reach for something more realistic, something perhaps just as good in its own way?

“You’ve seen the Vengeance franchise.” Natasha shrugged, an amused smile on her lips, her hand finally responding to your touch. The familiar names of the superheroes crossed your mind, reminding you of the fact that you shared a name with one of them. “The name is not just a coincidence… Of course, you’re played by an actress who can’t quite match your beauty.” She was giving in, slowly melting under your touch. She was willing to hear you out and try for one more time. You looked at Natasha in disbelief, unsure how you should respond as you gasped quietly.

“You’re telling me I’m a superhero?” You felt a smile tug at your lips at such a ridiculous statement.

“Heroes of the world”, Natasha recited a line from the movie. “Not only a superhero, but my hero, as sappy as it sounds.” You looked at each other. “You saved me from myself. You made me human again.” She bit her lip to avoid smiling too widely.

“The… you’re in the movies too.” You barely had any words. “There’s a kiss in the third one.” It sounded crazy, it sounded insane, but you couldn’t deny the similarities of the characters in the movies and the two of you. The actors looked alike to some extent, and many other features and characteristics mirrored you and Natasha’s, maybe even the dynamic to some extent.

“That kiss started it all”, Natasha whispered, her smile not enough to hide the tears she had to wipe away. “The movies aren’t hundred percent accurate, and painful to get through, but they’ve got some truth to them.” You took a moment to take in all that she was saying, recalling the battles between aliens, the characters, the events, all of it.

“I was pretty badass”, you hummed almost playfully, thinking about the character that you had always thought of as a fun and admittedly interesting person. You had been an incredibly skilled spy and sniper in another universe. You had been a righteous warrior who had saved countless lives, including that of the woman beside you. You had worn a black suit with violet accents that glowed like stars in the sky. You had been perhaps snarkier, tougher, more ruthless than you could ever imagine yourself being in your own reality, but you had also been just as loving and caring toward your loved ones as you were in your own reality. You had had mean fists and a thirst for justice like no other, paired with incredible skills with all kinds of guns. No other sniper could quite reach your level.

“Oh, you were.” Natasha nodded her head, a fond look on her face, a confident, knowing smirk finding her lips. “You were truly badass.” You both remained quiet for a moment as you let the information sink in further. Natasha looked away from you as memories filled her mind. No matter how much you were there beside her, she was still in such immense pain whenever she remembered you as her wife that she could not bear to look at you. It wasn’t hard to sense the emotionally charged demeanor that Natasha was wrapped up in, but you decided to approach it gently despite any hesitation you might have felt. You moved your hand up from her arm to her cheek, cupping it gently to guide her face to yours, her jade eyes locked with your own.

“Tell me more?” Your voice was nothing but a whisper. Natasha searched your eyes, searched her own emotions regarding the situation and regarding you before opening her mouth again.

“Your mother was a hunter.” There was a storytelling quality in the way she spoke. “Which I’m sure you remember from the movies. You learned to shoot with precision before you learned to properly read. You always had steady hands.” She nodded her head, looking at you for a moment, allowing herself to admire your beauty as her eyes ran over every part of your face. “By the time you were in your late teens you were probably one of the best shooters the country had seen, except nobody knew you, nobody knew about your existence outside of the little cottage you and your mother inhabited.” She let out a long sigh before being able to continue. “That was until your mother died. Your anger and sadness made you seek for an outlet. You needed a way to make a living and fortunately for you, or rather unfortunately in many ways, you got caught in the middle of the alien invasion on Manhattan.” You nodded your head. That was in the movies. “You picked up a discarded gun and joined the fight without anyone asking you to. It was Maria who eventually realized what was going on.” She leaned a little bit closer to you, your body painfully aware of the fact that you weren’t fully pressed up against one another in a way that would have left you satisfied.

“Toward the end of the battle, you got shot in the calf. It was a flesh wound. I told you to drop out of the fight and leave because you as a civilian were only going to be in the way –I was a bit defensive back then– but you never listened.” She chuckled at the memories. “As long as you could shoot, you were of use. That’s what you told me.” She laughed again. “I couldn’t understand what kind of a lunatic civilian would be crazy enough to take on an alien invasion, but then I saw how good you were, even when injured. You shot down aliens one after another from your hiding place. It was incredible.” Your eyes were wide with wonder as you listened to her intently, unwilling to miss a single word. “After the battle, Fury demanded to know your identity, so that we could all thank you appropriately. You were asked to join the Avengers and things were never the same after.”

“The Avengers? That name is way better than the Vengeance league”, you snickered quietly. “Oh wow, what a story.” Natasha smiled brightly, pleased that you were taking the entire situation seriously and actually listening to her. “But what about us? How did we… fall for each other?” Your eyes couldn’t help but to dip down to Natasha’s lips, your body longing to be closer to her, to touch her and feel her.

“You fell first. It took me a while to realize that I was even feeling any kind of way. I tried to hide behind layers upon layers of snark and witty banter, and even went as far as taking distance from you before I finally managed to look myself in the eye and realize that you were not just a teammate, but something more.” Your gut churned with butterflies as you recalled the feeling of falling for her. You wanted to get closer to her, your thumb stroking her wrist carefully. “You were always so gentle with me. It was jarring to someone who had only ever been treated with violence.” You felt your eyes itch with tears. It was unfair, all of it, both you and her situation.

“In a very heartbreaking way, that’s rather beautiful. I’m glad I could do that for you”, you whispered, glancing down at her hands, your touch reaching up to her forearms to feel more of her. Natasha smiled gently, her eyes moving down to your joint hands before coming up to your face again.

“You’re doing it right now.” Her voice could barely carry loudly enough for you to hear. “You’re being gentle with me.” Her hand responded to the touch of your own, caressing your fingertips back in the same manner as you did. You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t really do anything other than keep touching her. “Whenever I was angry beyond reason as a result of a battle or a dispute with the people in charge, or my friends, you would come to me, and you would be gentle with me.” She sniffled, pursing her lips to hide how affected she was by the memory, by the parallel. “I couldn’t stay angry when you touched me like this.” She moved her hand a little more to clarify what she was referring to. “When you spoke reason to me in soft whispers.”

“Kind of like now”, you mused, smiling gently.

“Kind of like now”, she agreed in a small nod, her heart aching worse than it ever had at the thought of leaving you behind.

“You were always the voice of reason for me. You made me see what life had to offer…” She sounded wistful, and at that moment you felt like a hint of the clarity was extended to you. She sounded truly in love, but it wasn’t directed at you. She was talking about someone else.

“Were.” You sounded bitter to your own ear despite not meaning to, but you couldn’t help the feelings of jealousy toward your alternate self.

“What?” Natasha turned to look at you, her brows furrowing.

“How could I ever compete?” You looked at her with a heartbroken expression of realization on your face. “Natasha. I’m not her. I’ll never measure up to her.” She looked away from you, her smile wiped away from her face. It was an impossible situation. There was no winning.

“It won’t be the same. I know that. I’ve always known that, which is why it’s perhaps for the best if we end it here.” Every ounce of pain that shone on Natasha’s face countered her words, but she couldn’t help but to try to protect you. “It’ll hurt the least this way.” She shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head in defeat as she pulled away from your touch. “It was just a fling.” It felt wrong to voice out such blatant lies, your face falling into a desperate frown.

“Don’t say that. Please, Natasha, don’t say that.” You felt your tears spill against your own will. “You can’t say that”, you sobbed, unable to control your emotions anymore, your hands reaching for hers again. She couldn’t let go of you. You would not be able to take it.

“I have to.” She wouldn’t let you touch her. “It’s the only way I can still go back home.”

“You don’t have to go back. You can stay here with me.” You leaned closer, cupping her cheeks to make her look at you. “Stay here with me, baby.” You held her face gently, Natasha’s heated cheeks damp against your palms. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t resist your face.

“But what if it doesn’t work out? What if it’s just more pain?” Natasha’s eyes glistened with tears that pooled at her lash lines. She was broken and beaten down, and it was more evident than ever.

“What if it does?” Your faces were mere inches apart, eyes searching the other’s. “What if it all works out?” Natasha could feel your breath brush over her chin. “I don’t have to be like her. You don’t have to be who you were. We can just be us. Here and now.” Your eyes were wide with anticipation, begging her to hear you out. Natasha’s eyelids fluttered shut as she tried to make sense of her screaming mind. She didn’t know what to do, torn between two, torn by her pain and her search for comfort and security. “I can be exactly what you need.” Your whisper brought goosebumps to her skin, her muscles melting under your touch as she leaned forward. She paused, hesitating for a moment before she pressed her mouth to your own.

You kissed her irritated lips that were hot and salty from her tears, swallowing each little whimper that escaped her. You pulled her closer, sucking on her plump top lip that often gave her a slight pout, your mouths fitting together as well as they always did. Your chest felt light and airy, full of relief despite knowing that it wasn’t all over yet. Her kiss might very well have been a goodbye kiss, but you were going to take it nonetheless because her hot mouth against your own felt better than life ever had. You didn’t care to breathe. You didn’t care. All you wanted were her lips, her hands at your waist, her warm cheeks against your palms. Neither of you deepened the kiss, keeping it tame and gentle, but the underlying passion was hard to shove aside. Her lips were rough and needy, kissing you fervently as if to savor every last bit of you to ensure that it lasted her a lifetime, lasted all the way to another reality. You pecked her lips a few times as you tried to find enough self-restraint to pull away from her to breathe. The chaste kisses made her smile, her teary eyes fluttering open to see your face.

“I want you. Just you”, she mumbled gently, her eyes flitting down to your lips. “I don’t need you to be anyone else. I fell in love with you.” You could feel your lips tug into a smile, your thumbs swiping over her reddened cheeks as her face fell. “But I’m scared.” You could barely hear the words.

“So am I”, you whimpered, swallowing back your sob. “But you know w-what I heard from my version of a woman I know you appreciate greatly?” Natasha chuckled at your wording, sniffling quietly.

“What?” You both had tears streaming down your faces as you held each other close.

“Life is scary.” Natasha huffed out a laugh. “Love is scary.”

“She’s right about that”, she moaned softly, casting her gaze down, shaking her head in disbelief over the entire situation. You guided her chin up, your eyes moving down to her lips before you leaned back into a kiss. It was wet and messy, but loaded with an unbelievable amount of emotion, your lips pressing together with bruising intensity that you both hoped would convey your affection and admiration toward the other. The kiss grew heated the more desperation started to seep into it, your hands leaving Natasha’s face to tug her even closer to you by her waist and her arms and any part of her you could reach, her hand moving to the back of your head to guide the kiss. You felt dizzy from all the crying you had done, the passionate kiss swiping you off your feet. You felt her tongue caress the seam of your lips, Natasha asking to deepen the kiss, but you pulled away before allowing her access.

“You have to promise me that we’re in this together”, you said in a watery tone. “I need to know that if we get into a fight, or things get hard, you won’t disappear out of my reach.”

“I won’t, malyshka (baby). I promise you.” She sounded solemn, her jade eyes boring into your own with such intensity it almost felt jarring. “I won’t leave until you tell me to.” You searched her eyes for confirmation, looking for reassurance despite taking her words at face value. She had no reason to lie to you. She would not lie to you if it meant losing you. She had told you so herself.

“Good.” Your grin was brighter than the sun, a small chuckle getting muffled against her lips as she pulled you back in, unwilling to stay away from your delicious lips that were begging to be kissed. She brought you into her embrace, nearly pulling you fully onto her lap, her firm thighs against your own bringing a familiar heat to your lower abdomen that only fueled the intense affection and longing you felt in your chest. You pushed your tongue against hers, pleased to feel her respond, your entire body melting into her hold as you sank into the kiss, molding against her in every way possible, a weak, helpless moan slipping from you when she switched angles to kiss you even deeper. Once Natasha’s lungs were on fire, she was

forced to pull away to catch her breath, her glossy eyes finding your own to admire.

“I should go tell Wanda I’m not leaving. She’s a busy woman”, Natasha mused, brushing some of your baby hairs behind your ear, her fingertips lingering close to caress the soft skin of your face. You nodded your head but didn’t dare to pull away to initiate the move. “You sit tight and pretty. I’ll be right back.” She cupped your face firmly, placing a proper kiss on your lips before pulling herself out from under you and heading to the door. You could not take your eyes off her, staring at her back profile longingly. She was wearing the flannel pajamas she had lended you the week before, paired with a warm, dark grey knit sweater. She looked rather adorable, your features softening visibly at the mere sight of her, at the knowledge that she was yours to keep. She let both Wandas back inside, yours coming over to the couch to check in on you and get a situation update from the more familiar side. Natasha couldn’t hold back her smile as she approached Wanda who needed no further elaboration to know that you and Natasha had been able to even things out with each other.

“I’m staying”, Natasha stated, Wanda nodding her head in understanding, immediately welcoming the former into her arms.

“Remember this moment”, Wanda whispered in Natasha’s ear, squeezing her tightly. “Remember that you felt like staying was impossible, but you were able to work it out nonetheless.”

“I will.” Natasha hugged Wanda even tighter.

“This won’t be a forever goodbye, but I hope I don’t see you for a very long time. Build that life you’ve always dreamt of here. You have all the tools. Your battle is over now, and this is your reward”, Wanda hummed, pulling away from Natasha to see her face. Natasha looked emotional but at peace.

“Take care of yourself”, Natasha said a bit more sternly, nodding her head toward Wanda’s appearance, mainly referring to the darkening skin around her eyes. “Don’t play with your powers.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The smirk on Wanda’s face told Natasha that there was no use in chiding Wanda. She was going to do whatever she wanted to do, and Natasha already had a feeling what Wanda was after. Wanda had never been the same after losing Vision. She had her own pain and baggage to mend which Natasha already knew could easily lead her to the world’s end, or perhaps even the multiverse’s.

“I mean it, Wanda.” Natasha gave her a pointed look.

“I can take care of myself.” Wanda shrugged.

“I have no doubt that you do.” Natasha smiled. She knew that it wasn’t always about one’s ability to care for oneself but rather about one’s will to care for oneself. It was far too easy to get blindsided and forget what was for the best and what was overly ambitious.

“I’ll see you someday.” Wanda said with a fond but tired smile on her face.

“I’ll see you.” Natasha gave Wanda’s hand a squeeze before backing away to give her room to create a portal. You and Wanda watched in awe as the other Wanda’s hands came up in front of her and sparked with light, a large abrasion appearing in the air. You could see with your very own eyes another place beyond that spot in Natasha’s living room. You could see that when Wanda stepped through it, she disappeared out of your sight, the portal closing behind her. You could see with your very own eyes that Wanda was gone and there was no possible way for her to still be in the same room with you. Wanda was gone, the world opening up to you right then and there as the truth of Natasha’s words sank in. The concrete proof of what had been told to you was overwhelming but more than necessary. You felt lighter, more secure. You were alright. You turned to look at Wanda who seemed truly fascinated at her alternate self’s abilities, her green eyes wide and filled with wonder before slowly returning to you.

“Who would’ve thought that I was right?” Wanda said in a flabbergasted sigh that made you laugh.

“I’m glad you were”, you hummed, placing your hand on Wanda’s. “Thank you.” You pulled her into your embrace. “And I’m sorry for ruining the party.”

“Shh, no such thing.” Wanda’s hand rubbed your back before she pulled back. “I’m happy this worked out.” She glanced at Natasha who was slowly making her way into the living room. “Now, I’ve done my part, so you need to behave. No more fighting”, Wanda ordered playfully, hearing Natasha chuckle.

“No more fighting”, you agreed, nodding your head in emphasis as Wanda got up from the couch.

“Come pay me a visit before next year”, she hummed in amusement, a knowing smirk on her face as she placed her hand on Natasha’s shoulder in acknowledgment of her before moving to the entrance of the apartment. She had a feeling that you and Natasha were going to be hard to pull apart from then on. She got her shoes and her coat before she was out the door accompanied by you and Natasha’s respective goodbyes.

Natasha’s hand found your head, gently smoothing over your hair in a very affectionate manner, your head tilting back to see her. Your stomach flipped at the mere sight of her as she rounded the couch to you, taking a seat beside you. Her hand guided you into her embrace on its own as you allowed yourself to find comfort and solace in her sturdy body and sink into her hold. She let out a long sigh to rid herself of the tension that had accumulated inside her from all the stress, the heartbreak, and the pain. You pressed your head against her chest, listening to her even heartbeat, your arm hugging her waist. You had to muffle your yawn into her sweater, Natasha’s chest sparking with thrilling electricity of excitement at the way your face pressed into her body.

“Tired?” Natasha asked, her hand sinking into your hair to comb through it repetitively, soothingly.

“Couldn’t sleep a wink.” You nuzzled closer to her, feeling the weight on your shoulders shake off as an overwhelming sense of safety found your body. Her arms tightened around you, lips pressing into your hair and on your forehead in a few gentle pecks.

“You can rest now”, she mumbled, her hand stroking down your back to your waist as if to attempt to pull you closer but it was no longer possible. You hummed your agreement to her words, squeezing her just a little tighter as you inhaled her familiar scent, unable to get enough of her fragrance.

“How do you feel?” You wanted to comfort her as much as she was comforting you.

“I feel fantastic”, she whispered into your ear, her breath tickling you, making you chuckle.

“Me too.” You lifted your head off her chest despite how much you didn’t want to, but there was something you wanted just that little bit more. Natasha’s chin tilted down to look at your face, her smile widening at the sight of you, your lips pursing slightly to ask for a kiss. She leaned down to bring her warm lips into your reach, her soft mouth connecting with your own. She exaggerated the smack of your lips on purpose, pleased to see your lips curve into a grin, prompting her to lean back in to kiss your smile, your chin, your cheeks. Her hands came up to either side of your face, holding you steady as she peppered you with as many kisses as you could handle before your laughter got to be too much.

“You’re the cutest”, she chuckled when you finally buried your face into her chest to escape the tickle of her lips, her hands rubbing your back in long strokes, her face in your hair to remind herself of how good your shampoo smelled. It was hard to describe the relief you both felt in the presence of the other. The air around you felt lighter, easier to breathe, your bodies ridden of the plaguing anxiety and worry. You could just sit in each other’s embraces and be in the moment.

“So are there two of you as well?” You asked in curiosity after a long moment of silence, your smile against her breast widening. “Do I have to be worried about another version of you lurking about?”

“No. She’s not here anymore.” Natasha didn’t quite want you to know the extent of her cruelty despite not being fully able to hide it away from you. She already knew that you were familiar with her rough past and upbringing, but she would rather not tell you such things right into your face, especially when she was trying to leave all of it in her past. You could sense from her tone that it was wiser to leave the matter be.

“Is there anything else I should know about your past life?” It was important to be up to date about everything that had made it possible for you and Natasha to be together. Knowing and understanding were essential for trust.

“I don’t like to talk about it. I want a clean slate, but if you need to know something for the sake of this relationship or to better understand me, I’m open to it.”

“I appreciate that, and of course, if you ever feel like you need someone to listen to your troubles, I’m right here, love.” Your tone was soft, bringing a smile to her lips. You had always been good at listening.

“Yeah, you are.” It was almost like Natasha couldn’t believe it to be true, the look in her eyes carrying just a hint of disbelief with it. You were right there in her arms, your warm body touching her own, your heart beating loudly in your chest, protected by your ribs that were strong and fully intact. Your soft skin was smooth and unmarked by scars and cuts from battles you should have never had to fight. Your lungs were functioning steadily, making use of all the oxygen you breathed in with every inhale you took. Your face wasn’t dragged down by grief and pain, your hair wasn’t falling out from all the emotional torture the final battle had put you through. You had a spark in your eye, mirth in the sly smile on your lips. You had a chime to your laughter, a heat that coursed through your veins with such intensity that it infected Natasha with it. You were alive and well, happy in the most truest sense, far, far away from a reality that had only ever hurt you time and time again.

“Natasha?” Your tone was thoughtful as you pulled away. “We’re missing something essential.”

“What?” She frowned.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Natasha couldn’t help but to laugh out of joy at your question, amused that she had forgotten about such formalities.

“Yes, I will, detka (baby). I already thought of you as mine.” You felt your cheeks heat at her words, her hand squeezing your waist. “You were mine from the moment we locked eyes.” You allowed your fingertips to caress her left cheek, carefully tracing over the light mole there, a faint smile on your lips as you recalled the first time you had ever seen her with her bloodied, dirty face and tormented eyes. It felt strange to look at the memory from another perspective and in light of everything that had happened between you and everything that had happened before Natasha’s arrival. It all made sense. The yearning in her eyes, in her demeanor, made sense. The look felt no longer haunted to you, but one of love and admiration, of deep sadness and loss. The thought of her grieving you before even meeting you was absurd, but you knew that there had been a reason, a purpose, for it all along. It had never felt coincidental or meaningless. You never could brush it aside because it was simply meant to be. Your eyes met hers, your forefinger trailing down over the corner of her mouth to her jaw. You never wanted to see that look of sorrow on her face ever again. You pressed your lips to hers to seal your promise to one another, the kiss coming off confident and strong, prepared for a new beginning.

[hetaestoniahq]

"Who is Estonia?"

A series of responses heavily based on little facts of culture and history with the Nordic-Baltic 8. This is just a fun little short way I thought of to talk about their relationships and history. Pretty much everything is a reference to something. This is all for fun! :D

FINLAND

Two out of three of the only independent Uralic countries to exist. You’d think it would be a heavy burden to carry, but it’s easier not being alone.

Even when I was the one to wrong him, Eduard did not change his stance. Guess it's part of being family to not always see eye to eye. It never discouraged him from rushing to my aid even when things were hard for him too. Eduard refused to let any hardship stop him from bleeding for my country. Ridiculously stubborn he is - but it’s been one of his greatest strengths. Of course I repaid him, then he proceeded to do it again. It's like a cycle of fighting for each other's freedom, one I was unable to continue because what I could do had became incredibly limited. These limited set of actions still seemed to mean the world to him. Re-independence had its rough patches, but more than ever were we glad to both be free and have each other again.

Eduard always wants what's best for both of us. He doesn't want any one of us to end up in the hands of our Eastern neighbours and puts so much time and effort into our cooperation and safety. Why do you think he became so dedicated in Cybersecurity? If he can't be a physical powerhouse, he'll be a powerhouse of the mind. Even when I was uncertain of what I will do, he did not pressure me. Instead, he promised that no matter what I decide, he will always be there for me, no matter what.

The only flag I want to see down south is a tricolour blue-black-blue, if the sun one day rises without it then I will know I have failed as a brother.

🇫🇮💙🇪🇪

NORWAY

I didn’t expect us to have many things alike outside similarities that are basic and expected for a northern nation. Never expected that something as simple as common patterns among our sweaters, hats and mittens could mean a lot more in hindsight. Another is the familiar feeling of having been thrown between nations and finally being independent again- even if our stories on that are much different.

When life told him no, he looked for another way- even though his government in exile continued to operate elsewhere, the mere fact that it was founded in Norway seemed to mean a lot to him. Perhaps it was my way of making up for the time he bled for me as well. When his own freedom was compromised, he would not sit idly and watch as someone he cared about was fighting for the same reason. As small as it may have seemed in the big picture, it is the passion and care that counts.

Estonia has always wanted to bridge any gaps between us. Inviting my people to sing in song festivals, making work deals, rushing to create a flight connection for a direct method of transport. It seems like every year Estonia finds ways to bring us a little closer, be it economic or cultural.

I too know the weight of sharing a border with Russia, partially to have so much history of dealing with him.. The Baltic’s strength is commendable.

Keep singing, songbird.

🇳🇴❤️🇪🇪

LATVIA

Long ago I used to hate Estonia. We used to be at each other's throats declaring each other “blood enemies”. It's a little funny looking back on it, the way history went on to tie us so close together. Together we saw countless wars, famines, storms, rarely were we separated through it. Sometimes I'd ask him “What do you think the world will throw at us next?” And he'd look at me and simply shrug “We'll see.”

A moment of truth was when we both fought for independence, for two new nations to be formed.

When I was backstabbed by the people who had tormented both of us for centuries, It was then I saw how our relationship had changed over the ages when Estonia without question stepped up to fight by my side. So casually my fight became his fight, no strings attached.

Estonia, his culture and language is notably different from mine, but must that mean we can't be brothers too? What brought us together was our experiences, not our blood. This applies to most of us, all I have been left with in regards to any sense of family is Lithuania. It would be a sad reality to live in if I considered only one country as worth being brothers with.

Estonia with his bond with Finland is the bridge that ties the Nordic-Baltic 8 together, but that doesn't mean me and Lithuania don't contribute to it either!

🇱🇻❤️🇪🇪

LITHUANIA

You'd think that with how different our history till the last century is, that I would be a weak link in all this, right?

I would not say so, even if there's some truth in the fact that I am not as close to Estonia as some others might be, it's the continuous effort to bring us together that counts.

Our old history includes fights here and there, the Balt Estonia once held close is no longer with us and with the Finnic brothers he has seen fade - he shares our pain of loss. Our enemies have often been the same, but back then we failed to see unity. What would have happened if we realised that far sooner? We’ll never know.

Our time together under the commonwealth was brief but the time under Russian rule slowly gave us a new opportunity.

The moment all three of us became independent, Estonia was the one to seek ways to bring us closer. Of course the main motive for it was to stand together stronger in the scenario of our east neighbour attacking, it still planted seeds for more than just that.

Latvia may be the one linking the Baltics together, but if it was necessary for me to be the one to reach out and hold his hand instead - I would not find it strange.

I'll always enjoy sitting back and enjoying some ice cream together, basking under a shared free sun.

🇱🇹❤️🇪🇪

ICELAND

I know the feeling of not being seen or heard, I decided a change was needed and took the first step. I never expected how much my simple words of “I recognize you as an independent country” would be worth more than gold. I became seen as a true friend, a “fellow small country”, an icebreaker, a name immortalised on a memorial- for just stubbornly expressing my stance? They seemed surprised when I showed my gratitude with a similar gesture.

Neither of us care for large mighty extravagant buildings as tourist attractions, instead we value and guide people to explore what mother nature has gifted us. I appreciate having him around. Even if I were the only Nordic to feel this way - I would still speak up for him.

🇮🇸❤️🇪🇪

DENMARK

Resilient, stubborn and always ready to improve - that's how I would describe Estonia.

I was part of the era that turned his history dark, I had celebrated victory for conquering a fierce land. When I had pointed my sword to his throat to submit him to the Danish crown, Estonia stood up and said “I will never die, no matter what you do to me.”

That was a promise.

Instead of looking at me with distaste for what I did to him so long ago, these memories instead are proof that we have always been connected. The flag of my nation - Dannebrog, stands as the strongest symbol of that. Hah! Why do you think Tallinn keeps showing it off all over the place? Give the coat of arms a closer look while you're at it! My guess is it's how Eduard expresses holding something dear.

It was like a hit of nostalgia to come back 700 years after that battle, hearing of Eduard’s fight for independence.

Like repaying a debt of honour, I couldn't sit back and watch a wounded land fight against a giant alone. I knew I had to do at least something, even if the government was not the most supportive of it. Two hundred men out of two thousands who were able to go and able to risk their lives in the end may seem small, but their effort was a success that brought honour to the crown.

This turn in history gave us another chance to start over, kindling a friendship neither of us thought we could ever have, before being struck with another turn that took him away from us again. I sat in silence refusing to accept it until he and his Baltic brothers reminded the world of their existence and stepped up to stand in support.

I made sure to keep the promises I made. I had 50 lost years to make up for, so I gave a hand in as many areas as I possibly could.

I'm proud to be his friend and I know that if he falls then I might too, which is why I know I can never let that happen. Never again will I let that happen.

🇩🇰❤️🇪🇪

SWEDEN

Most people don't realise how far back we go.

I saw Eduard at his fiercest point, a land that would strike fear into kings and just as easily burn what he didn’t like. He wasn’t someone to upset and yet I kept poking at him like a bear with a stick.

He allowed my people to come as settlers into uninhabited areas, despite his experience with foreigners taking and taking from him. Those settlers seemingly became a natural part of his nation, honoured even if most of them are now gone.

Something I quickly learned was how studious Eduard is, someone who picks up new skills incredibly fast. To think Eduard steadily became one of the most literate parts of the Russian empire back in the day makes me wonder how much of it was the seeds of education I planted or his hard work in fighting to keep it.

I tried my best to give my part in his fight for independence, turns out my support in this fight had been something his people had fantasized for decades. To think that after the way I left the people would continue to hold Sweden so dear in their hearts as the words “Good ol’ Swedish age” would be carried from generation to generation. Of course once given the opportunity we reconnected, provided a warm welcome.

Guilt gnawed at me every year as freedom had been so easily robbed from him again. I made mistakes. Mistakes I've apologised for repeatedly. Because of all the people given a chance of freedom and a normal life that my land gave - it's been forgiven. Sweden became a place where people could gather and continue the fight in safety - I am proud to have been able to have a role like that.

I am glad to have been given the chance to now stand as close to equals as possible.

All I hope is that Eduard learns to truly value and love himself more, do not let the ignorant voices shake him now.

🇸🇪❤️🇪🇪

All of us together, we will thrive as the Nordic-Baltic 8 and all of us are glad to have Estonia be part of it. It wouldn't be the same without any one of us, which is why we will continue to stand together no matter what others try to claim we are.

With love,

Northern Europe

🇮🇸🇳🇴🇩🇰🇸🇪🇫🇮🇪🇪🇱🇻🇱🇹

[aeolianblues]

Oh boy, your AI bro is mixing up therapists and one specific computer Rogerian psychotherapist from the 1960s. And it's an incredibly interesting mixup to have made, because if anything, they're proving your point.

Buckle up for this one, it has nothing to do with modern AI. Back in the '60s, things were moving at breakneck speed for computer science. The space race was on, computers were sending satellites into space, 50s sci-fi pulp fiction had everyone clamouring for the possibility of robots thinking, feeling, walking amongst us.

German computer scientist and ethicist Joseph Weizenbaum was not one of them. He called computers 'the child of the military' and sort of correctly predicted that the increased capacity of computers just meant that we'd try and squeeze extra efficiency out of things that would be harmed by being more 'efficient'. He was against blindly handing over control to a machine. In an era where people were excitedly envisioning a future where computers could perfectly communicate and live with humans, and take over important jobs just because they could do maths faster than us, Weizenbaum argued that any attempt at truly communicating with a computer was futile. And to prove it, in 1966, he wrote up a simple computer program called ELIZA.

ELIZA was a pattern-matching program fashioned to behave like a Rogerian psychotherapist. Carl Rogers' person-centred school of psychotherapy aimed to facilitate a patient in solving their own problems by just helping them talk themselves through it. Accordingly, ELIZA's script was meant to largely parrot back whatever problems a user threw at it, in the way a therapist would.

From a linguistics and computer science perspective, the script (called the DOCTOR script) was extremely elegant. ELIZA was not AI. ELIZA is so old, it pre-dates AI or chatbots. 'She' had no knowledge of the outside world, or of psychology or anything beyond the few lines of instructions she was given: replace 'I' with 'you', replace 'am' with 'are' and 'are' with 'am', parrot back the rest of the sentence with a question mark at the end. Remember a few of the user's last inputs, so in case none of the other patterns match in a sentence, you can ask the 'patient', “earlier you were saying that you... ”.

I've described just two lines of her instruction set, and you can probably already tell that she's not really a therapist, nor that this program would ever have true understanding of your life problems, right?

She's not perfect. And yet! The script was so elegant that people began believing that the computer program written to repeat their lines back at them felt emotion and sentiment! A visibly frustrated Weizenbaum actually wrote a book called Computer Power and Human Reason: From Judgment to Calculation, repeatedly trying to explain that the computer had no anthropomorphic traits and any comparison would only cheapen the meaning of human life. His own secretary asked to have two minutes alone to chat heart to heart with this pseudo AI psychotherapist. They’ve named the tendency to ascribe human traits to computers the ELIZA effect.

Humans are very easy to trick. Put googly eyes and a sharpie smiley face on a balloon and people will try and empathise with it. They fell for ELIZA. They will continue to fall for chat-GPT, or whatever auto-completing word-guesser is created next in the name of 'AI'.

Still, as seen with ELIZA, it does fall apart quickly. That was the whole point of Joseph Weizenbaum's experiment. Computer programs, chatbots, AI, they have their limitations. His point was that you should not be trusting ELIZA to be your actual certified psychotherapist. All your AI bro has done is prove that he too would've fallen for ELIZA.

Whether it's an AI 'BetterHelp' chatbot or an online form that refuses to take an answer it's not programmed to take, it boils down to the same observation. There should be a real person there, who is able to understand context and has the required knowledge to be dealing with human life and circumstances. No matter how empathetic or sophisticated the psychotherapist behind the screen appears.

Gods almighty I hate AI bros.

I just had some fucker on Reddit attempt to splain to me, with a straight face, that AI is going to replace all therapists in a few years, because people don't need human connection as long as they feel like the computer is empathetic.

???? ????? ?????????

Setting aside that that's bullshit, fucking AI cannot do fucking culturally competent therapy, at all, on any fucking level, because it's fucking fancy autocorrect and is going to spit out what the mainstream culture tells it.

Fucking AI could not help my friend who fucking cannot with CBT at all because it triggers them, because it's going to spit out the most common answers to therpy question and that means fucking CBT.

Fucking AI cannot fucking handle things like DID headmate switching, or someone getting triggered and needing de-escalating mid session, or ANYTHING that's outside a very narrow window of "help, I need someone to make vaguely soothing noises at me".

If I wanted an AI therapist, I'd get out a Windows 98 emulator and vent to fucking Clippy. It'd be cheaper and better for the environment.

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[nonokoko13]

Rollo Flamme is autistic. I had suspicions about it but after reading his vignette I heard a voice in my head confirming it. God has told me the truth and I must spread the word

He would also be ok with Batman, if he's not his most favoured hero. Oh and he also probably has PTSD and depression. Thanks for coming to my ted talk

[autumnalhalcyon]

Ugh. I just spent p much all night reading old blazing--soul posts. I kinda really miss the shenanigans. I kinda really don't miss the drama.

[vounoura]

durge and orin. I have feelings for them