#star wars hot take i guess

[vidduality]

Was anyone gonna tell me this or...

[moreespressoformydepresso]

So I was thinking (shocker I know) about Gaul's theory about humanity. That people, when cornered, lose their humanity and become monsters. More specifically, I've been having thoughts about the moment that "confirmed" this theory in Snow's head for a while now and decided to put them into words. Which might be a terrible idea, but I never claimed to be smart.

According to Gaul, people who are cornered will do anything to survive and lose all sense of humanity to do so. The Games are supposed to be a constant reminder of this, which already raises a few questions that I was going to pose before getting to my actual thoughts here until it evolved into a whole separate train of thoughts. I'll make it a separate post instead but long story short: If it was supposed to be a reminder of this "truth" it was a sloppy, embarrasing failure at best (and also that's not how science works). Regardless of that though, the moment that solidified this delusion is his brutally murdering Bobbin while escaping the arena with Sejanus. There's a problem though. Or rather, there's several problems. Firstly, Snow chose to bash Bobbin's head in until he was unrecognizable. Chose, because he didn't have to do it. If you want my more interesting/unique(?) thoughts skip the next paragraph.

Most people would have knocked Bobbin out at most and then kept running, Snow chose to keep hitting with the wooden plank. He did this not because he lost all his humanity, but because he is a deeply disturbed individual. His formative years were filled with war and propaganda, and his family's proud name being dragged into the mud by his living situation understandably gave him a complex about power and wealth. He needed to feel above other people to cope, and the Capitol provided. Now, that does not in any way excuse his actions (and if anyone's interested I have several essays worth of thoughts on that and all the ways in which it makes me adore Collins and hate extremes in fandom), but it does explain them. Moreover, that complex and stubborn pride in his family's former high status likely fed into his belief in Gaul's theory. If it's true for someone of his status, it must be true for everyone.

Now, the actual reason for this post

Gaul's theory is that people lose their humanity when they're cornered. Emphasis on cornered here. When people are put under pressure, they will act in depraved ways. From Snow's perspective of reality, this is true because when he was cornered he brutally beat a child to death. But was he cornered though? No. Sure, he was in a scary situation, but he was not cornered. There was one child with a knife chasing after him. A starved, dying one. Snow and Sejanus could've easily outran him with some adrenaline boosting them (that shit makes moms lift whole cars to save their kids, come on now), nevermind the millions of other solutions that aren't "beat a child to death with a wooden plank until they're unrecognizable". More importantly though, they're not stuck in the arena. The peacekeepers didn't actively protect them, but they opened the fence for them. Snow could leave the arena. He could've dodged Bobbin and ran, and he'd have been able to leave the arena without murdering a kid. He was pressed, but he was not cornered. Not only does this theory have the most pathetic "proof" of any scientific theory since Andrew Wakefield's vaccine scam, the incident that confirmed it in Snow's mind isn't even a situation where the theory is applicable in the first place. It doesn't prove that people who are cornered lose their humanity. You know what it does prove, though?

People who have power lose their sense of humanity

Snow was not entirely cornered, but he did have power. As mentioned before, Bobbin is a starving child with nothing but a large knife. Snow might not be well-fed by Capitol standards, but he was certainly doing amazing by district standards. He had a wooden plank and a child at his mercy. What did he do? He maimed and murdered the kid. And throughout the entire book, stuff like this happens. Gaul showed him how the snakes work because he's her favorite prodigy. What did he do? He used it to cheat and help Lucy Gray win. When he had that recording of Sejanus admitting to rebellion, he had power over Sejanus' life. What did he do? He got the guy executed. When he had a gun and Mayfair became a possible problem, he shot her. When he became president, he kept the games going and poisoned anyone in his way because he had the power to do so. Mayfair has the power to influence who gets reaped, and uses it to try and get Lucy Gray killed. It happens on a larger scale too. It's the whole point of the series. The Capitol has all the power, and they use it by abusing and murdering the people from the districts, either to keep them in line or just because they want to. For entertainment. Because they can, and there's nothing the districts can do about it. Coin has power, and what does she do with it? She gets Prim killed to break Katniss into her pawn and suggests to put more innocent children through the Hunger Games because she can. Just like the Capitol did, 75 years before that. They can, so they do it. Who's gonna stop them? It's all over the series. And they all try to justify their actions by blaming it on people. Mayfair’s excuse is getting rid of “competition”, the Capitol claims the districts are getting what’s coming to them for the rebellion, Coin claims this new version of the games is what the rebellion wants. Snow has all his mental gymnastics.

It's not desperation that turns people into monsters, it's power.

And those with power will always convince themselves it's not the power, it's the people.

[kcrabb88]

So many of my fandoms are like, classic books or TV shows off the air or musicals, that I haven't had to handle fan theories much in recent years until jumping into Star Wars fandom, and now with Previously Last Seen Dead Ventress appearing in the TBB trailer people are reading Dark Disciple and I SHOULD be happy since that book made me cry my eyes out (I have a couple crits of the book, and by a couple I mostly just mean the Mace characterization was off, but loved it so much overall) and it's like The Quinlan canon book (and to me, a QuinObi book in large part in addition to Quintress like it was what made me read the older comics (which I loved) and really fall into shipping them after the OWK mention + TCW where my interest was piqued) and now everyone is picking up Dark Disciple and slinging fan theories and I'm like yesss read the book! But also ahhhh now I will see theories of all kinds about My Guy Quinlan and be nervous about What Will Occur while also not even knowing if he'll actually appear in the show.

[faeofdusk]

Oh do I have some additions

-> If your autistic character does no encapsulate every facet of the autistic experience, even though the spectrum is known for being very wide and diverse, then it is bad autistic rep

-> If your queer romance story is anything but soft fluff with flawless characters that have nothing to say but to live fluffy romantic fantasies, then it is bad queer rep

-> If your queer romance story has even mentions of sex between the adult consenting parts, then you are clearly fetishizing queer people and that's gross!!

-> But also, if you don't want to write sex scenes in your queer romance, you are a bigot who hates queer people

-> If your couple have a significant height difference, then that's basically pedophilia!!! I don't care if they are both adults in their 30s, that's gross!!!!!!!!!!!!

-> If anyone is mean to your character who is from a minority, that clearly means that you, as the author, also look down at said minority, and you are a bigot for that!

-> If you are over 20, you shouldn't write romances about teenagers because that is creepy and pedophilic (??????????????????????)

And, my favorite

-> You can only write about certain topics if you personally lived through them, so to make sure that's the case, we are going to pester and harass you until you eventually break down and publicly disclose a very personal and intimate detail about your life to a bunch of strangers before you were ready to

some puzzling writing hot takes i’ve encountered:

genre fiction is fascist. the only ideologically pure fiction is slice-of-life with no plot.

any book with more than one sex scene is erotica

romance novels encourage women to have unrealistic fantasies, like “having enjoyable sex” and “being apologized to”

describing a female character’s body for any reason, even during a sex scene where her love interest’s body is described too, means you’re a gross male writer who doesn’t understand women

if the protagonist is an anti-hero or morally gray, each chapter should have a disclaimer detailing all of said protagonist’s moral failings

[theflikchic]

Aside from JK Rowling being a terrible person, how tf did Harry Potter become the poster-child "if you like the villains, it's the same thing as liking IRL horrible people like H!tler and being a-okay with all their ideologies"? Star Wars's villains have been based on WWII fascism for decades before AND after HP and NO ONE bats an eye when someone wears a Darth Vader t-shirt.

I'm serious, I saw someone saying that getting a tattoo of the Deathly Hallows had the same energy as getting a tattoo of a fucking Swastika. By this logic, everyone who ever had a toy, t-shirt, tattoo, poster, etc. of ANY Empire-adjacent thing in Star Wars should be in jail for hate crimes. And by that logic, I guess I should be a cannibal, serial murderer and who robs banks on the side because all of my favourite characters do it too! Like come ON.

I seriously think people ONLY have this perception of Harry Potter specifically due to JK Rowling being a bigot and they want reasons to get people to stop reading HP because it is such a double-standard that it makes me want to scream.

[wheelscomedyandmore]

You Might Not Ever Guess

Captain Kangaroo passed away on January 23, 2004 as age 76 , which is odd, because he always looked to be 76. (DOB: 6/27/27 ) His death reminded me of the following story.

Some people have been a bit offended that the actor, Lee Marvin, is buried in a grave alongside 3 and 4 star generals at Arlington National Cemetery . His marker gives his name, rank (PVT) and service (USMC). Nothing else. Here's a guy who was only a famous movie star who served his time, why the heck does he rate burial with these guys? Well, following is the amazing answer:

I always liked Lee Marvin, but didn't know the extent of his Corps experiences.

In a time when many Hollywood stars served their country in the armed forces often in rear echelon posts where they were carefully protected, only to be trotted out to perform for the cameras in war bond promotions.

Lee Marvin was a genuine hero. He won the Navy Cross at Iwo Jima. There is only one higher Naval award... the Medal Of Honor

If that is a surprising comment on the true character of the man, he credits his sergeant with an even greater show of bravery.

Dialog from "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson": His guest was Lee Marvin Johnny said, "Lee, I'll bet a lot of people are unaware that you were a Marine in the initial landing at Iwo Jima ..and that during the course of that action you earned the Navy Cross and were severely wounded."

"Yeah, yeah... I got shot square in the bottom and they gave me the Cross for securing a hot spot about halfway up Suribachi. Bad thing about getting shot up on a mountain is guys getting' shot hauling you down. But Johnny, at Iwo I served under the bravest man I ever knew... We both got the cross the same day, but what he did for his Cross made mine look cheap in comparison. That dumb guy actually stood up on Red beach and directed his troops to move forward and get the hell off the beach. Bullets flying by, with mortar rounds landing everywhere and he stood there as the main target of gunfire so that he could get his men to safety. He did this on more than one occasion because his men's safety was more important than his own life.

That Sergeant and I have been lifelong friends. When they brought me off Suribachi we passed the Sergeant and he lit a smoke and passed it to me, lying on my belly on the litter and said, where'd they get you Lee?' Well Bob.. if you make it home before me, tell Mom to sell the outhouse!"

Johnny, I'm not lying, Sergeant Keeshan was the bravest man I ever knew.

The Sergeant's name is Bob Keeshan. You and the world know him as Captain Kangaroo."

On another note, there was this wimpy little man (who just passed away) on PBS, gentle and quiet. Mr. Rogers is another of those you would least suspect of being anything but what he now portrays to our youth.

But Mr. Rogers was a U.S. Navy Seal, combat-proven in Vietnam with over twenty-five confirmed kills to his name. He wore a long-sleeved sweater on TV, to cover the many tattoos on his forearm and biceps. He was a master in small arms and hand-to-hand combat, able to disarm or kill in a heartbeat.

After the war Mr. Rogers became an ordained Presbyterian minister and therefore a pacifist. Vowing to never harm another human and also dedicating the rest of his life to trying to help lead children on the right path in life. He hid away the tattoos and his past life and won our hearts with his quiet wit and charm.

America's real heroes don't flaunt what they did; they quietly go about their day-to-day lives, doing what they do best. They earned our respect and the freedoms that we all enjoy.

Look around and see if you can find one of those heroes in your midst.

Often, they are the ones you'd least suspect, but would most like to have on your side if anything ever happened.

Take the time to thank anyone that has fought for our freedom. With encouragement they could be the next Captain Kangaroo or Mr. Rogers.

Send this on will you please? Nothing will happen to you if you don't, but it will tell what a "real" HERO is made of.

[reshinless]

──── she was all i needed.

ᯓ★ ── . summ. piercer!kinich who gave you his number in order to give you tips on how to keep your skin healthy now that you have your first piercings.

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ director's note. hi i havent posted cuz i made this long :grin: saw that kinich had a few piercings, so gave me a few ideas.

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ pairings. kinich x fem!reader

ᯓ★ ── . warnings. nsfw, fem terms used, sex lol, eating you out, possessive-ish behavior (brief mention.)

piercer!kinich who has tattoos all over his arms, and can be seen briefly around his waist when he stretches.

piercer!kinich who discreetly checks you out, the mix of emerald and amber in his eyes contrasted almost as if love was in his eyes. letting you take a seat in front of him.

piercer!kinich who briefly makes eye contact with you, looking away just as fast.

he who spins you around the chair a little, letting you look at a mirror to ask if you like it or not.

"here, give me your number. I'll send you a few tips on how to keep your skin healthy after a while. they can get infected easily."

it was few ear piercings you were excited about getting but damn was the piercer hot.

you sent him another text, asking if he had any tips- again. this was the third time this week, and it was almost starting to become more than just employee and customer.

you could definitely agree getting to see him more was amazing. he might be what you consider 'nonchalant' at first, but he's definitely enjoyable when you get to know him. and his cute little corgi named ajaw of course.

you both frequented at each other's places. ajaw favored you over him, snuggling up to your chest even as you sit idly on the couch.

"where'd you find him, by the way?" you pet the fluffy fur on its head. "huh? in a dumpster." and it was almost as if the fur on the little doggy's back had stood up, furiously barking at its owner.

"jus' joking. pet store. poor thing looked sad so I cleaned him up and adopted him." the corgi continued to growl but huffed and snuggled back into your lap.

piercer!kinich putting ajaw at the veterinary clinic to get checked for a few hours. even with the retaliation against it.. ajaw inevitably went to war (got a checkup).

greeting the poor baby goodbye as it aggressively barked and cried out to the both of you, kinich simply laughed it off, offering to get something to eat.

his hand on the wheel, and another close to your thigh, gosh was he hot when he drove. the tank top that pridefully showed off his tattoos, and he held his head up high, and chin down. his confident, yet uncaring demeanor definitely would've gotten him some game in highschool.

"hey, you down for ice cream, pretty? my treat." he pulls out his wallet without looking down to find where it was. was the car this hot? turn up the air conditioner..

"yeah.. yeah sure." you sighed and continued to subconsciously look at him. damn was he pretty and handsome all at once?

piercer!kinich who took you out to get ice cream together while waiting. already knowing your order from every other time.

piercer!kinich who came back with the sundaes, already had an arm around you to tell that dude trying to get your number, and making you uncomfortable.

"she's taken. back off." he gave a glare to the guy. successfully scaring him off a few seconds later.

he took you back to his car, eating the ice cream together as you both talk and laugh.

he still felt a bit of rage in his chest from the interaction earlier. and there was still 2 hours till you both pick ajaw up.. I guess you have time.. right?

his tongue already delving into your cunt, as his fingers worked well at your entrance below. you tasted and sounded nicer than he imagined.

"mmm, that's right pretty keep moaning like that.." his words sent vibrations throughout your lower region. you could feel the stars appear in the air, a dazy environment.

you pushed his face further into your slit. you could feel the cold, metal piercing on you, subsequently riding his tongue loving the way he felt on you.

"ngh- fffuck kin- i'm gonna!-" you moan, as he only mercilessly quickened his pace. the way your cunt tasted was not what he was expecting, not going to complain though... maybe he should get you pineapple ice cream more often.

"don't look anywhere else pretty- on me. eyes on me." it sounded more like a demand than to ask. his eyes spoke otherwise for him, almost pleading for you to give everything to him.

he hummed in delight, gladly lapping everything up for his own, he was in no competition but still went faster than anything. he ate you out like the starved man!!

you could feel his nose piercing touch your clit, shit was it just as cold as the one on his tongue.

his husky voice emerges- "such a patient girl for me, sweetheart.." the air slowly started to feel thick, he could already imagine the whines you'd moan from the way your eyes rolled back.

"ahhn- feels s' good.. mmf- wan' more!" your whines only fueled his ego, he could never get tired of this. squishing your thighs around his neck just cuz you want more? he'll give it to you if you want it that badly.

his hand moved up from your thigh to your chest, fondling your nipples. "s' pretty.." he briefly looked up at you, arching your back, and your brows furrowed, you almost looked mad!

those pretty pristine emerald eyes you could never doubt, especially when the same ones looked up at you- pleading for you to squirt everything right into his mouth.

as was he right or right? he let you cum, your legs trembled as he continued to lick every little crevice his tongue could reach. he loved the way you had grasped his hair, his hands stuck to your ass as he latched onto you.

"such a good girl f' me aren't you?" he landed a soft kiss onto your sloppy clit, still working his digits in and out of you slowly. your head hit the window again as you tried to hold your loud whimpers back.

his fingers arched themselves into your g-spot. fuck did he want you to cum again?

"look at me, princess.. i wanna see your face when you cream on these fingers, 'kay?" his eyes almost glared at you, it was intimidating yeah, but it was definitely so fucking hot.

as he added another digit into your entrance, you felt like seeing stars again, you could see heaven by now.

a snicker emits from in front of you, your eyes still shut as you try not to moan from the godly speed kinich went at.

his raven locks were in his face, his face was full of concentration as a smirk danced across his cheeks. "that's it- let out every moan that you need to. don't be afraid."

"let everyone hear how good these fingers fuck you, pretty girl." his fingers were definitely skilled. he did mention he played the bass.. damn was that a fucking ring on his index finger?!

the temperature that was held inside the jewelry reached into your pussy as you finally came. only making you more sensitive. he exited his fingers slowly out the sloppiness of your hole, and into his mouth, licking it all up from his fingers.

he places a peck on your forehead; "let's get back into the front seat, yeah?" "yeah.."

as you both drove to pick ajaw up, the dog furiously barked, he smelt something, and something was up with the air between you two.. but you both could care less, making eye contact before kinich started to back up the vehicle, out of the clinic's parking lot.

"i'll.. drop you off by your house."

a silent 10 minute drive was shared as ajaw fell asleep in the backseat. but before you could fully step into your home- "hey. call me later if you have trouble sleeping.. or if your legs shake tomorrow." he chuckles, his grasp on your arm was soft, and meaningful.

"i'll keep that in mind." you gave him a soft smile, and he returned it. a kiss landed on your hand, as he bowed. "good night then, beautiful."

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Pillow Talks

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x GN!Reader

Summary: Your master has sent you on a mission and Qimir, your supplier and guide, is accompanying you.

Qimir Masterlist

Your Master has tasked you with the mission of finding and killing a former Jedi that had previously wronged him. Per usual, he also assigned Qimir to be your guide and supplier, should you need him.

Although you were perfectly capable of doing things on your own, you had to admit it was nice to have company. For a long time, it had always just been you and your Master. Then when you were finally ready for your first mission, Qimir was assigned to you.

At first, you were annoyed, but then grew fond of the man. Sure, he can be a bumbling, fumbling idiot, but he’s also very knowledgeable, skilled, and can hold his own.

However, this particular mission, you’ve grown somewhat annoyed with him. Your search for the former Jedi led you to jungle planet of Eriaduan. The weather is hot and humid, causing you to sweat and feel sticky. It’s dampened your mood and motivation to fulfill this mission.

Doesn’t help that Qimir is being extra chatty as you trek through the jungle, “Can I ask you a question?” Some of his black strands of hair stick to his face due to sweat and humidity.

You sigh, “As long as you’re okay with possibly not getting an answer.” You reply as you step over branches and through shrubs.

“Why are you so adamant that your Master doesn’t care for you?”

Earlier, you tripped on a boulder and Qimir told you that you need to be more careful, “Your Master wouldn’t be happy with me if I brought you back injured.”

You had scoffed and told him, “Please, my Master doesn’t care about me, Qimir. Only cares about my ability to fulfill these missions.”

You shrug, “Because he doesn’t.”

“How do you know?” He asks with furrowed brows.

“The way he’s treated me isn’t how people treat those they care about, Qimir. He’s very…forceful. He never gives me a break, asks how I’m feeling. Honestly, it’s foolish of me to even want him to care about me, even just a little.” You pause at a fallen tree trunk and decide to sit for a little rest.

Qimir follows, sitting beside you, “It’s not foolish to want to be cared for. Besides, he always sends me to go with you. Surely, that must mean he cares for you right? Wants someone to have your back?”

You snort, “Or because he doesn’t trust me to do these things on my own.”

Qimir sighs and shakes his head, “I’m sure he knows you’re capable of doing this on your own. But…maybe he just wants you to have back up just to ease his mind?”

You shrug, “Guess we’ll never know because he doesn’t really talk to me unless he’s assigning me a new mission or berating me about not improving my skills.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I do care about you. Knowing you has brought some…excitement back into my life.”

You give him a grateful grin, “Thanks, Qi. I care about you too.” You two sit in a comfortable silence, catching your breaths and taking pause to finding this Jedi.

_______________

This definitely wasn’t how you expected things to go. You’d gotten injured during your fight with the Jedi. You were still able to kill him but not before get stabbed you in the side.

Qimir was freaking out, trying his best to keep you from bleeding out too much but you eventually succumbed to the pain, blacking out as Qimir pleaded with you to hold on.

When you finally wake up, you’re groggy. Your hand goes to your wound and you feel a bacta patch on it.

“You’re awake,” you hear the modulated voice of your Master.

You turn your head to see your Master standing at the end of your bed roll.

You try to sit up but you hiss in pain, “Don’t move. Lay still.” He approaches your side and kneels, he pulls back the bacta patch, “It needs to be changed.”

He grabs a new patch from the small pile beside your bed. Has he been taking care of you while you were out? Surely not, right? Had to be someone else. Maybe Qimir?

“Where’s Qimir?” You ask and your Master stills.

“I sent him away after he brought you here.”

“I hope you didn’t threaten or hurt him," you give your Master a threatening glare.

He questioningly tilts his head to you , “Why?”

“Because he’s my friend and I care about him.”

He stays silent for a few seconds before stating, “He left unscathed.”

“Good.”

Your Master cleans your wound and dresses it with a new bacta patch. It was weird, having him care for you in such a way. Usually when you got hurt or injured, you took care of yourself.

“You need to be more careful," he practically whispers.

“The former Jedi was a lot more skilled than I anticipated, but I fulfilled my mission.” The sentence comes off as factual, unfeeling.

“You got hurt.”

“It’s nothing new,” you say nonchalantly with a little shrug.

Your Master’s clenches his fists, “You need to be more careful,” he repeats.

"I'm fine. I'll do better. I know I'm not useful to you when I'm hurt."

"That's not why I want you to be careful," he says before standing and exiting the hut you made as your home on the secluded island.

_______________________

On your next mission, your Master has sent you to go undercover as a merchant on the planet of Batuu. Qimir, per usual, will be aiding you on the mission. You meet him at a cantina where an RX pilot droid was reprogrammed to play music throughout the place.

It seems like Qimir had been waiting for you a long time since his body was swaying, seemingly five drinks in already.

You sit on the stool beside him, causing him to turn to you and he gives you a drunken smile, "Heeeey! You're here!" he hiccups a bit and you can't help but chuckle, "How're you already this drunk?"

He shrugs, "Had to do something while I waited for you." He offers his cup to you and you push it back towards him, "I'm good," you say.

He shrugs again and downs the rest of the drink, "So, what's the plan?" A strand of his hair falls onto his face.

You giggle, moving the strand away, "I don't think we should discuss plans while you're in this state," your fingers linger on his face. Suddenly realizing what you did, you pull your hand away and clear your throat, "Um, we should discuss plans tomorrow while you're sober. So, drink some water and I'll meet you in the morning," you stand to leave but Qimir stops you.

"Wait, wait. Can I stay with you?" You look at him confused and he continues, "I, uh, lost my ship so I had to hitch a ride here. Don't have much credits left."

You give him a cocked brow and a hand on your hip, "And how did you expect to pay for your bar tab?"

He gives you a sheepish look, "I was kinda hoping you'd pay for it?"

You sigh, pulling out enough to pay for Qimir's drinks. The bartender thanks you and you have Qimir follow you out of the cantina.

"You're lucky I like you," you murmur, a hint of a smirk on your lips.

Qimir gulps and nods, "Yeah...lucky."

You two make it to the dingy hotel where you plan to stay for the next few days. As soon as Qimir enters, he plops onto your bed with a content sigh. Looking at him and then the room, you now realize that there's only one bed, which means you have to share.

It'll be fine. You can be professional about this situation.

You clear your throat, grabbing Qimir's attention, "So there's only one bed-"

Qimir immediately sits up, "I can sleep on the floor-"

"It's fine, Qi. We can be mature adults about this. We're not strangers or anything."

He gives you nonchalant shrug, "If you're sure."

You nod and head to the refresher to change. When you come back out, Qimir is already under the covers, having shed some of his outer robes.

You can't help the snort you let out when you see how close to the edge of the bed he is.

You slip under the covers, "Qimir, you're hanging off the edge, come closer. It's fine."

"I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or-"

You use the Force to pull him closer.

He rolls over to face you, "Uncalled for."

You roll onto your side to face him, "You were being stubborn."

You two stare at each other, letting some moments of silence pass. The air shifts but you're not sure if it's just you that feels so. You feel a pull, a need to lean in and press your lips to Qimir. You've always found him attractive, but have pushed those thoughts down because you know you can't have him. Your priority is your training and your loyalty is first and foremost to your Master. Before you do anything drastic, you sigh, rolling over to face away, "Good night, Qimir."

"Good night," he murmurs. You hear the rustle of the sheets as he gets comfortable.

You close your eyes, trying to push away the feelings that began to bubble up in your chest and stomach.

"Do you still think your Master doesn't care for you?"

Your eyes shoot open and you immediately roll over, "Qimir...what?"

He sighs and rolls back over to face you, "Do you still think that your Master doesn't care about you?"

You shrug, "Kinda."

"Kinda?" he looks at you with creased brows and a frown.

You shrug and move your attention to a loose thread on the pillow Qimir lays on, "After the last mission, he said he immediately sent you away?"

"...yes."

You turn to lay on your back and look at the ceiling, "I guess the entire time I was out, he was taking care of me. When I woke up, he changed my bacta patch. He told me I had to be more careful." You pause to recollect more of that day, "I figured this was all because I wouldn't be useful to him, but then he said that wasn't why."

"So he does care," Qimir simply states

"I'm still apprehensive about saying that with certainty, but the small gesture appears that way."

You glance at Qimir as he moves to mimic your position, "And how does that make you feel?"

You run your hands down your face and you give a deep breath, "It's nice to be cared for and to care for someone. But...it's scary. Doing the things we do, you never know when someone can take that away from you. Or if that someone takes advantage of that care and betrays you."

You suddenly feel Qimir's hand take hold of yours, "I understand," he murmurs, "Your Master is still a person too. Maybe he struggles with the idea of caring for someone because it's been so long since he's done so."

"Maybe," you reply, not pulling your hand from Qimir's. It felt nice, having his hand in yours.

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"...can I hold you?"

You turn your head, looking at Qimir, you can see he's slightly embarrassed, but he's also being vulnerable...and you're feeling a little vulnerable too.

"Okay," you whisper and you move closer as Qimir wraps an arm around you, holding you close to him.

You let out a shaky breath. It's been so long since you've been held like this, cared for in such a gentle way. It's a complete opposite of how you've spent your time training under your Master.

You hope you can have more moments like these with Qimir.

Your body feels more at ease the more time you spend in his arms. Your eyes slowly flutter close and you're off to a restful sleep.

Meanwhile, Qimir remains awake a little bit longer. He stares at you, his apprentice, his acolyte.

"I'll do better," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your head and pulling you closer to him as he listens to your breathing, leading him to sleep.

[rpclefairy]

𝐁𝐆𝟑 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

a selection of lines from the various companions' banter quotes (not cut scene dialogues!) from baldur's gate 3. these are generally spoiler free and non context specific so they can apply to different settings and dynamics! feel free to change names and the like to customize the prompts.

“Death can't have me. Not yet…”

“Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.”

“Realmspace is vast. Countless worlds to be mapped, kingdoms to be conquered.”

“I have missed this. The adventure. The danger. The kicking of butts!

“Let me guess - you need something.”

“Such attention.. I never realised I was so popular.”

“Let's cook with fire, baby.”

“Do you intend to vocalise every thought?. Or just the most obvious ones?”

“Wherever we go, ye gods let there be something green.”

“Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.”

“Watch your elders and learn.”

“Perhaps try attacking the enemy?”

“So much we don't know, lingering in the furthest reaches of existence.”

“All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.”

“The shadows are my friend.”

“Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.”

“Feet planted firmly on Faerûn, please.”

“Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities.”

“Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you?”

“I am ready, whatever may come.”

“My faith protects me.”

“Need a throat slitting?”

“Death greets us all - but not today.”

“You need my expertise?”

“Can you feel death's cold grip?”

“So many stars, so many mysteries yet to be discovered.”

“Death comes quietly.”

“And I thought we were going to be friends.”

“Locked tight, but there must be some way to open it.”

“No, you can't die. Get up, damn you!

“You had my attention, now you have my fury.”

“From silence to suffering.”

“So many worlds out there. You'd need a thousand lifetimes to see them all - more.”

“I hope this is important. For your sake.”

“Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.”

“I ought to just burn this whole thing down.”

“We have slightly more pressing matters to attend to.”

“You have still have time to surrender.”

“Every kicked buttock, another step on the path.”

“Weave save me. I can't take much more…

“You are right to fear me.”

“Let me look around. Might be something that'll help me crack this thing.”

“Incredible, to think how many worlds exist beyond this tiny speck within a speck I call home.”

“I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.”

“I can fawn over my face later.”

“Ready for another round?”

“Keep your blade close.”

“I can't unlock it from here, but there must be a switch or a button somewhere…”

“No, that's not moving. There must be a way to open it somewhere.”

“Battle favours the fearless.”

“Sleep with one eye open, evil. Maybe both.”

“Gotta be something around here to unlock this thing.”

“Why do beautiful people taste better?. It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities.”

“Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too.”

“Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails.”

“Still standing, no matter what you heard.”

“Enough waiting. I crave blood.”

“Hang on - I won't allow this. You aren't dead, go it?”

“GODS, it's HOT in here!”

“No rest for the wicked, I see.”

“Better to hide than fight, sometimes.”

“Would that I could hide from you, too.”

“Are you feeling lonely, perhaps?”

“There is no right or wrong, only truth.”

“Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe.”

“What good all this ethereal eladrin blood if I can still get pimples?”

“I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.”

“I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness.”

“Let's have some fun.”

“War is an old woman's game.”

“No rest, be you wicked or wise.”

“I'm getting too old for this nonsense.”

“I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want.”

“You have my attention - now do something with it.”

“You are insistent, are you not?”

“Do what must be done.”

“Your suffering will be spectacular.”

“Lest I sit down for a rest and not rise again.”

“Better to look evil in the eye. Even if it be very small.”

“I'm not built to crouch.”

“I think I could go another round.”

“Always the same old song.”

“Is perfection too much to ask?”

“Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner.”

“So many places to be.. and I chose Baldur's Gate.”

“I'm not opening that. Not from here, at any rate.”

“What is the point, if not victory?”

“Won't last much longer like this.”

“Let's hope the locals are friendly.”

“Let us show them how it's done.”

“Weapons high. Standards higher.”

“Must everyone be so exhausting?”

“What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb…”

“Which way to the nearest library?”

“Now this is my happy place.”

“Who shall I silence?”

“Stop, or die.”

“Wear your scars proudly.”

[moonheavens]

moonheavens' (wolfstar) fic recs, Nov 24

hello! since my last list of fic recs is now over a year old (Aug 23), I figured it's about time for a new one, especially on the back of the recent discourse about shouting about work you love, which I'm always happy to do.

so without further ado, here are some fics I have "recently" read and loved and whose praises I'd like to sing, very loudly. please do note this only includes wolfstar or multi-ship Marauders fics.

authors, if you want to be untagged, have your fic removed or have the one line summary changed, just message me.

all recs with ao3 links below the break <3

WIPs

All's Fair in Love and Trivia, by @cancerravenclaw ~75k, Explicit, Muggle. exes to lovers years after a huge, painful break-up. I've been eating this up with a spoon and re-read multiple times so far, it's soooo good. really hot ex-sex, yet also handles the complex emotions beautifully, and I love the group dynamics.

The Labyrinth, by QuillNib ~45k, Explicit (check tags), AU. Sirius is forced to sign a contract with an A/B/O breeding facility. really interesting take on omegaverse dynamics, very handmaid's tale vibes. great writing and plot, and keeps you on your toes constantly.

How To Jeopardise Your Friendship With Remus Lupin, by @amberlink ~200k, Teen, Hogwarts. everything you could ever want from a Hogwarts-era best friends to lovers fic. beautifully written, amazing characterisations and also just super funny and sweet. I love this Remus dearly, and this is one of those fics where you drop everything else when the update email comes in.

A Song for the End of the World, by @wannabelilybriscoe ~200k, Mature (check tags), AU. zombie apocalypse wolfstar!! amazing plot so far that really keeps you guessing, with great links to canon yet entirely fresh and inventive. wonderful friendship dynamics and writing, and I would die for this Sirius (but also lowkey steal his man).

Shorter finished works (<30k)

back to the old house, by @saintlupin 20k, Explicit, First War. Sirius, Regulus and Remus get stuck in grimmauld place and have to deal with the tension between them. absolutely beautiful, and painful in all the best ways like only saintlupin can achieve.

Sirius Black and the "mystery girl", by Anonymous 30k, Teen, Hogwarts. the marauders try to guess who Sirius is mysteriously dating. this one is so much fun, really light-hearted and joyful and a great twist with the Lily POV.

What I Heard, by fishcommuter / @fishpilgrim 28k, Explicit, Hogwarts. definition of idiots to lovers; wolfstar acting like a couple and having to be told they're basically dating. light-hearted, sweet, and a lot of fun.

The Barista, the Burglar, and the Sofa, by orphan_account 21k, Explicit, Muggle. summary reads "the story of how Sirius tries to seduce a man by slowly furnishing his flat" and.. that totally checks out. absolutely hilarious and very sweet, and I too would fold if Sirius Black bought me a bookshelf.

Wishes on Stars, by Quietlemonhush and @theresthesnitch 19k, Explicit, AU. Remus makes a wish upon a star and gains a friend. without spoiling too much, this one is a wonderful journey - so sweet, so beautiful, so poetic, so heart-warming.

A Good League Hence, by @eyra 15k, Teen, Muggle. a country hotel in the wintertime. I could put eyra's entire bibliography here as they're incredible, but this is one of my favs. sweet christmas fluff with animals and eyra's ever-incredible writing, just perfect.

June: or how Sirius finally figured himself out, by MarigoldWritesThings / @marigold-hills 15k, Explicit, Hogwarts. does what the title suggests, and wonderfully so. I adore this version of pining yet oblivious Sirius, and the writing here is stunning. tender and heart-warming.

Just a Little Bit of Magic, by @cancerravenclaw 25k, Explicit, Muggle. music journalist Remus falls in love at first sight with model Sirius at a club. flirting ensues. one of my favourites ever - sensual, delicious, beautifully written. the kind of fic I'm grateful exists, and secretly wish I could write.

Tear My Chest Open, by @puuvillaa 22k, Explicit (check tags), Post-Hogwarts. Remus never goes to Hogwarts and meets Sirius, who is taken, in a writing class. complicated feelings ensue. this one was painful, but beautiful. a beautiful expression of care and tenderness.

nothing sweeter than my baby, by damagecontrol 7k, Explicit, Muggle. wolfstar dads on a date night at a Hozier concert, except it's mostly sex. ridiculously hot and sexy, yet sweet and fun. one of my favs if I want something nsfw.

Match Point, by @billspaid 14k, General, Muggle. wolfstar as husbands who are both tennis players, inspired by Challengers. exactly what you want from it; ridiculously fun. competitive yet sweet as they go head-to-head. a blast.

lunch poems, by aeridi0nis / @steelycunt 5k, General, Muggle. tourist Sirius bothers bookstore employee Remus into adoration. aeridi0nis and their gorgeous gorgeous writing never disappoints and this was so much fun. swotty Remus my beloved.

Three Card Monte, by @enjambament 14k, Teen, Muggle. I love heist AU's and this is one of the best ones out there. tensive and exciting the whole way through, and this wolfstar... I want what those bitches have.

The Right Reason, by softsilkentofu 11k, Explicit, Post-Hogwarts. wolfstar get married (as friends) to evade anti-werewolf laws. incredibly funny and heart-warming, with great writing, and a fun twist on fake dating.

Longer finished works (30k+)

Dunes and Waters, by MarigoldWritesThings / @marigold-hills 36k, Explicit, AU. curse breaker/convict Sirius is forced to work with ancient Egypt researcher Remus on a riddle. I loved the mythology aspects of this and the twist on canon, and it was beautifully written.

The Road to Sweetwater, by @euripidestrousers 57k, Explicit, AU. Wild West AU, with outlaw Sirius and bounty hunter Remus. I've been yelling about this one a lot recently - one of my all time favs, beautifully written and so brilliant. I'll be coming back to it for a long time.

The Spy Who Loved Him, by OptimisticDinosaur / @mostlyoptimisticdinosaur 35k, Explicit, AU. James Bond AU, with spy Sirius and 'man in the chair' Remus. intensely exciting and tensive, and so much fun. I really had a great time with this one.

an endless sky of honey, by @colgatebluemintygel 35k, Mature, AU. Greek mythology inspired; Sirius is a God, Remus is a mortal. that's all I'll say, you gotta go into this pretty blind, but it's just. incredible. toothpaste never misses and this one is really special.

through the gaps of sunlight, by grumposaur / @pancakehouse 48k, Explicit, AU. victorian era exes to lovers wolfstar with aristocrat Sirius... this one was so much fun, the yearning! the pining! the longing glances! I ate that shit up with a spoon.

The Waste Land, by afieryfox / @a-fiery-fox 51k, Mature, AU. Remus is a resistance fighter for the Order; Sirius joins the fight. brilliant wartime-wolfstar characterisation and a really tense and engaging plot, plus amazing writing. one of my favs of 2024.

love finds a way, by @littleoldrachel 60k, Mature, AU. Jurassic Park exes to lovers... who doesn't love dinos? Rachel always delivers with her writing and characterisations, and I'm obsessed with these nerdy, mopey versions of R & S.

Lie to Me (Another Secret), by Whoops_e 151k, Explicit, Hogwarts. Sirius is expelled from Beauxbatons and joins Hogwarts late. beautiful fic with a focus on mental health, with amazing dialogue and super tender wolfstar (one of my favs). the bathroom scene in ch40 is everything to me.

back when we were dinosaurs, by epicblueblanket / @kaaaaaaarf 37k, Explicit, Muggle. Remus and Sirius meet at their workplace, a museum in Toronto. paleontology!!! nerd Remus!!! sexy Sirius!! this has everything you want, just a perfect fic in every way.

Bonus recs that you've probably already read, and if you haven't you absolutely 100% should

Harry Potter and the Dog and the Wolf (series), by thewholeofthemoon ~605k overall, Mature. a retelling of canon (starting from POA) but with Peter captured and Wolfstar taking care of Harry, aka how we all wish canon had been. beautifully written and super original take on the story. it's long, but it's worth it for the wolfstar alone.

Hey, Sharpshooter, by @tortoisebore 200k, Explicit, Muggle. college, basketball player Remus meets figure skater Sirius. recently finished, and I couldn't not include it as this is in my top 5 most re-read and loved fics ever. it makes me want to pull out my teeth one by one (affectionately). they're engraved in my memory at this point.

on another ocean, by @colgatebluemintygel (WIP) ~133k, Explicit, Muggle. recently dumped Sirius drags Remus on a holiday across through Europe. if you haven't read this, please, please do. it's literally my favourite thing in the entire world. like, no competition. I would sacrifice my firstborn for this fic, and like, raze the city of Troy for this fic (my Helen).

Chimaera & The Wolf (series), by lostmy_keys / @lostmykeysie 337k, Mature, First War. Regulus and Remus work together to find the horcruxes. this one is popular, and for good reason; I devoured this, one of my favourite things I've ever read in my life. so exciting and tense, and the wolfstar is everything to me.

and if after all of these you’re still looking for more, may I humbly inform you I’m also a wolfstar writer myself—you can find my fics on my ao3.

and that's all, folks. this is just a small selection, I have read dozens more so if you want more you know where to find me. love always, Ames <3

[sidekick-hero]

I've got a ghost in the hallway grinning

Written for @steddieangstyaugust day 2, prompt: ghosts. Title from Euclid by Sleep Token.

Tags: Ghost!Eddie, Angst with a happy ending (!), childhood friends, canon divergence

words: 1.7k | AO3 | teen

"You are such a charmer, big boy. Oh, wow, your eyes are so blue; it's like looking at the ocean. I can't believe she let you get to second base after that line."

"Oh, please, what do you know? How many second bases have you been to?"

Eddie recoiled at Steve's words, and Steve immediately wanted to kick himself. That was a low blow, even for him. Eddie's constant teasing about his dates always got under his skin. It’s why he mostly stopped bringing girls over, but Megan had insisted they couldn’t go to her place because her mom was always home. She didn't want to risk getting caught in his car.

So he brought her home to let his house ghost judge his moves.

What was his life, anyway?

Despite his irritation, Eddie was his best friend, alive or not, and Steve didn’t want to hurt him.

"Shit, Eddie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"But you did, Steve. And you're right. I haven't even kissed anyone. All I know is from those cheesy movies you secretly watch."

Steve gave Eddie a faint smile. "Oh my God, that was once. Maybe twice. And no one was supposed to know."

Eddie looked up at him, his big brown eyes still sad. "Who would I even tell? You're the only one who can see me. Don't worry your pretty head, Stevie, I'll take all your secrets to my grave."

Now it was Steve's turn to look sad, all his earlier giddiness from making out with Megan gone.

"This isn't funny, man." Steve's voice broke, and that finally snapped Eddie out of his strange mood.

Eddie approached, hand hovering over Steve’s arm, like he wanted to touch but couldn’t. Steve knew he couldn’t.

Eddie couldn’t touch him because Eddie was a ghost. He was dead, with no body to touch Steve with. They had tried, when they first met, and several times since. It never worked, just a cold whisper against his skin, but nothing substantial.

"Sorry," Eddie mumbled, looking contrite.

"It's fine. I just want to be alone for a bit, though. Please."

"Sure, Stevie. I’ll just… go, I guess. See you later?"

Steve forced himself to smile at Eddie to show him everything was okay between them. "Yeah, definitely. We still have to watch the new Star Wars movie, right?"

"Right. Just call when you're ready, and I'll see if I can fit you in."

With that, Eddie disappeared to wherever ghosts go when they’re not here. Steve still had no idea how it all worked, just that Eddie always came when he called.

The one time he didn’t, after a particularly bad fight—the worst they’d ever had—Steve had a panic attack. He had been alone at the time, as had become more and more usual for him. It was the only time Steve swears he felt Eddie, who had hugged him as tight as he could, begging him to ‘breathe, Stevie, please, just breathe, pleasepleaseplease.’

After that, Eddie had always been there as soon as Steve said his name, even when they were fighting.

Steve lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

He wondered what had changed between him and Eddie, when it stopped being so easy. He had known Eddie since he was six years old, when his parents and he moved into this house.

It was a hot summer day, and Steve had been hiding in his room, playing with his toy cars, when a voice behind him startled him. “What’re you doing there?” the voice had asked, and when Steve turned around, a little boy around his age was standing behind him.

They both had been lonely up until they met. Steve, a shy boy in a new neighborhood, found it hard to make friends. Eddie, a ghost with no memory of how he died, had been wandering the house for what felt like an eternity. They became best friends quickly, finding solace in each other's company. Strangely, Eddie seemed to grow up alongside Steve, his ghostly form aging in tandem with Steve’s living body.

They played together, laughed together, and shared secrets no one else would understand. Eddie was there for Steve’s first day of school, his first crush, and his first heartbreak. They spent countless nights talking about their dreams and fears, their bond growing stronger with each passing year. Despite the oddity of their friendship, it felt natural to them—an unbreakable connection that transcended the boundaries of life and death.

But lately, something had shifted. The effortless camaraderie they once shared now felt strained. Steve couldn’t pinpoint when it started, but he missed the easy days of their childhood when everything made sense and nothing seemed impossible.

Steve knew that it wasn’t just Eddie who was responsible for the new tension between them. It was Steve who had fallen in love with his dead friend.

It all started when he was thirteen. He had woken up to the strange feeling of being watched, and when he opened his eyes, he caught Eddie leaning over him, his translucent lips pressed against Steve’s. Before he could try to kiss back, Eddie had jumped away.

Eddie had apologized profusely, telling Steve he’d just been curious. He said it always looked so magical in the movies when people kissed, and he wanted to know what it was all about. Nothing more—it didn’t mean anything.

Too bad it meant a great deal to Steve. It had been his first kiss, and he didn’t even feel it.

A week later, when he kissed Tina to see if it would cause the same flutter of butterflies in his stomach, Eddie had caught them. Steve would never forget the look on his face.

Steve had apologized, even though he didn’t know what he’d done wrong—just that Eddie was hurting, and it was somehow his fault.

Eddie had been cold and distant, acting aloof and laughing in Steve’s face. He mocked him, saying he was already training to become a man-whore, asking if he’d kiss anything with a pulse and without.

That had been their first fight, and even though they made up afterward, things started to change.

The room was dimly lit, the glow from the TV screen casting flickering shadows on the walls. Steve and Eddie were sprawled on the couch, watching the latest Star Wars movie. Despite the tension between them, movie nights had remained a cherished ritual.

Steve’s dating life had become the elephant in the room, a sore topic between them that neither he nor Eddie wanted to address.

As the film progressed, a romantic scene between Leia and Han Solo unfolded. The characters on screen leaned in for a kiss, and Steve felt a familiar pang in his chest. He glanced at Eddie, who was watching intently, his expression unreadable.

The scene ended, and Steve felt the words bubbling up before he could stop them. "You know," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wish I could have felt it when you kissed me."

Eddie turned to him, his translucent form shimmering slightly. "Steve, I—"

"I know you were just curious," Steve interrupted, his eyes fixed on the screen. "But it meant something to me. It was my first kiss, and I wanted it to be you, but I also wanted to feel it."

Eddie’s expression softened, a mixture of regret and sorrow in his eyes. "I’m sorry, Stevie. I didn’t know it would mean so much to you. I never wanted to hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever wanted."

Steve sighed, leaning back against the couch. "I know. It’s just… I’ve thought about it a lot. Wondered what it would have been like if you were—if you weren’t—"

"If I weren’t dead," Eddie finished for him, a bitter smile on his lips.

"Yeah," Steve admitted, feeling a lump form in his throat. "If you were alive, things might have been different."

Eddie moved closer, his ghostly presence sending a chill down Steve’s spine. "I wish things were different too," he said softly. "But I’m still here, Stevie. Maybe not in the way you want, but I’m here."

Steve turned to face Eddie, their eyes locking. "I know. And I’m grateful for that. It’s just hard sometimes, knowing what we could have had."

When Steve meets Eleven, he's trying to protect the kids—his kids, in a weird way—from monsters that came from another dimension. A ghost he’s in love with living in his house is no longer the strangest thing happening in his life.

They sat in silence for a moment, the movie playing on in the background, both lost in their thoughts.

When El and Chief Hopper disappear inside the lab to close the portal, they all listen in through the walkie Dustin insisted El take with them.

They hear her scream, they listen to her win, and then the tearful cheering from her and Hopper.

"You did it, Kiddo. I knew you could do it. Come on, let’s get outta here," Chief Hopper says, sounding prouder than Steve's dad ever did. But then again, Steve never saved the world, so maybe that’s fair.

His heart stops at El’s next words.

"Wait, Dad. We need to save Eddie first."

Eddie.

We need to save Eddie first.

"Who’s Eddie?" Hopper asks, and Steve snatches the walkie from Dustin, not wanting to miss a single word.

"He's another boy like me, but he's asleep. Always asleep. They somehow take his energy from him to power their weird experiments. I don’t know how it works, just that he’s lying in this room all alone. We can’t leave him here, Dad. We can’t."

Steve’s mind races, trying to process what he’s hearing. Could it be the same Eddie? His Eddie?

"Eddie," Steve murmurs, gripping the walkie tighter. "Eddie, if you can hear me, we're coming for you. Hold on."

The group falls silent, the gravity of El's revelation sinking in. Steve's heart pounds in his chest, hope and fear swirling inside him. The ghost he loves might not be a ghost at all, but a boy trapped in a nightmare, waiting to be saved.

[intheorangebedroom]

The corner deli, part 2

Summary: Frankie takes you on a second date. Somehow, firearms are still involved...

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N:  Happy Frankie Friday, Orange besties 🧡 Thank you so much for your kind response to part 1! I hope you like this part too (pun intended). And please, see the end notes 🧡

Word count: 4.1k (I managed to cram in nearly all my kinks, can I get a woot woot?)

[part 1] [blog masterlist]

Part 2: Crimson and Clover

“Isn’t it cheating, though?”

The carnival rifle looks comically small between his hands. He presses the trigger, and a fourth balloon explodes with a loud popping sound, amplified by the wooden box. You jump. He doesn’t even blink.  

“How is it cheating?” he asks, looking down at you with a cocked eyebrow as he casually reloads a tiny lead bullet into the rifle’s barrel. Wow. Competency, much?

“Well, you were in the Army. Don’t they train you to shoot at stuff?” you ask, eyes trained on the little target inked on his left hand.

He shrugs. 

“You want that teddy bear, or not?”

“I do. I do want the teddy bear. It’s– it’s a plush Grogu, but yes, I do want it.”

“The plush green alien, yea.”

You make a face, taking mock offense.

The date —he said it was a date, so you guess you can call it that, right?— has been going extremely well, so far. Conversation flowing easy, stolen glances that don't make you wanna crawl out of your skin; he’s asked you a lot of questions, but it didn’t feel forced. You’re not sure if your brain is not gonna ask for payback at 3am on a Sunday, but you're feeling relaxed and at ease. He’s paid for everything, the diner, the rides, even the cotton candy, but he didn’t make a show of it. You could get used to this. The hanging out, that is, not necessarily the paying for everything part. 

“I’m teasin’ you. I love Star Wars too.”

“You do? Wait, are you one of those fans who’s gonna tell me I am not a real fan because I haven’t read all the books and comics and I can’t speak Jawa, but really it’s because I got a vagina?”

“Do I look like the kind of man who feels threatened by a vagina?” 

Oh. Oh shit. Ok.  

“Guess not,” you whisper, ducking your head so he can’t see your cheeks, that are fucking burning up. 

“Star Wars is actually the reason I became a pilot.”

He brings the butt stock of the rifle to his shoulder, adjusting his aim, and oh boy, he’s a sight to behold. That poor t-shirt of his is pulled taut across the breadth of his shoulders, seams ready to burst. You admire the way his thick finger slides around the trigger guard, and in, before another balloon goes BOOM. 

The young man keeping the stand lets out an ostentatious sigh. He grabs a long pole with a hook at the end to get you the toy, but really, it looks more like it’s a pitchfork he’s gonna chase you away with.  

“How’s that?” you manage to articulate. 

“Han Solo is the coolest, and I wanted to be as cool as Han Solo.” 

He gives you a shy grin, setting the rifle down on the counter. 

“Shut up! I wanted to be Leia!”

His eyebrows shoot up.

“Is that so?” he asks, taking a step closer to you.

Oh. Oh. 

Oh, that’s close. He’s crowding you against the counter, towering over you, his heady scent wrapping around you and he gives you that cocky look that turns your legs into Jell-o.

“Yeah,” you whisper, trying your hardest not to stare at the dip between his collarbone, and the little freckles on the tanned skin of his neck. 

The stand employee shoves the ginormous Grogu into your back, propelling you into Frankie’s chest. The man is HOT. Like, really hot. His skin is on fire, you can feel the heat through his threadbare t-shirt.

“Can I take you and Grogu home now, or is it too fast?” he says, his breath fanning your lips. “I don’t know how these things are supposed to work.”

Oh god, his hips are pressing into yours.

“I’ve no idea either, but I think you’re doing fine.”

“Yea?”

“Mmh mmh,” is the only sound you manage to produce.

“Good. Let’s go. Gonna make you see stars,” he adds, pushing away from you, and he immediately winces at the lame joke.

“Wow. Really?” you laugh. 

He flinches, hiding his pretty face under the brim of his hat.

“Fuck…”

—

Well, he wasn’t lying. You saw stars. And then you saw stars again. And again. And then you saw some more.

But the first thing you see when you get to his place is how clean it is. Tidy, but in a lived-in way.  

It’s a one-bedroom apartment on the fourth floor of a brick building. The kitchen sink is empty, a single plate and set of cutlery drying on the metal rack next to it. Some magnets adorn the fridge, among which you recognize a picture by Manuel Álvarez Bravo, and another by Berenice Abbott, and you try to police your expression because these are your two favorite photographers and that’s a pretty freaky coincidence, right? 

You step into the living-room while he washes his hands. It’s cozy. A soft amber glow pours in from the streetlights through the three narrow windows, behind a big slouchy leather couch. There’s a plant that looks alive and well on the console next to it, and an entire wall of seemingly handmade shelves, lined with books. The TV is old, downright ancient, and there’s a turntable propped onto a vintage stereo. An opened book lies face down on the coffee table. 

You crane your neck to read the title. Engineering Circuit Analysis. Okay, so that won’t be a conversation starter. 

You don’t know if the place always looks this tidy or if he cleaned it because he thought you might be coming over, and you’re not sure if the sheer assumption shouldn’t be a red flag, given it’s only the second time you’re seeing the guy, but you find that you don’t care. You really don’t. Not in the least. 

He joins you in the living-room, but he doesn’t turn the lights on. He’s taken his hat off and he’s combing his fingers through his thick mane of curls, and that sight alone was worth driving all the way here in his truck. 

“Want something to drink?” he asks, and that’s a very good question, do you want something to drink? 

You should, probably, because your mouth is so dry you can’t even gulp, and your nerves could use some alcohol, but you just stand here, like an idiot, watching him walk slowly toward you, wondering how close he’s gonna get before he stops walking.

Very close, apparently.

He looks so fucking tall and broad, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it, but then again, it’s only the second time you see him. He leans over you, you have to twist your neck up to keep your eyes on his, but really, what you want to do is chew on his lips. Or his neck. You’re not picky.

He hooks his index fingers into the belt loops of your jeans to draw you in. Fuck, now your panties are ruined.

Time goes in slow motion as he licks his lips, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your mouth. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now. Is it ok?”

“Yes, please.”

Yes, please, Jesus fucking Christ, can you get any more cringe?

“There’s a lot of things I’m wanna do to you, if I gotta be honest,” he adds.

Oh, there, you can gulp. You think people might have heard you swallow from the other side of town.

“Okay. You can… do your worst, Morales.”

“You sure? Because my worst is… You need to tell me if–”

“Yes. I’m sure. You got my consent. All of it. Please.”

Who needs dignity? Not you. Not today.

“You’re fucking adorable, you know that? I am going to ruin you.”

You hate meeting new people. Meeting guys. You hate that whole dance, when you have to pretend you don’t really wanna fuck each other, oh but really you do, you hate getting undressed in front of a literal stranger, the awkwardness of it, new skin, new touch, everything grosses you out and you feel like curling into a ball inside your own skin, waiting for it to be fucking over. 

But this, this is different. Of course, it’s different, everything has been since you’ve laid eyes on him across that aisle in the corner deli.

You want him. God, you’re practically vibrating with it. And you want him to want you, too. 

He presses his lips to yours, and it’s subtle, the delicate, albeit insistent press of it, testing but also very much signifying you he’s gonna do everything he said he would, pulling you closer with your belt loops. 

Fuck it, you think. Fuck it. You want this. All of it. The taste of him and the weight of him and his touch and his skin. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean into the kiss with a quiet little moan, your hands traveling up his large back, balling his t-shirt in your fists. He doesn’t miss a beat, his hand comes up to cup your face, fingers carding through your hair and you feel the wet glide of his tongue, prompting you to open. 

You do. Oh god, you do, and you taste the cotton candy as he licks into you. There’s the little tickle from his mustache, the pressure on your waist, the sparkling tingle along your spine and everything is delicious. His other hand is kneading at the curve of your hip, sliding down to your ass and he grabs you there, strong fingers splayed right between your cheeks, it’s firm and hungry and commanding.

He pulls you flush into him, and with a gently swaying motion against your belly, he lets you feel it. Feel what you do to him. Feel how much he wants you.  

Your body goes slack and tense at the same time, loose limbs, loose chest, clenching cunt and hardening nipples. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling away just a bit, “fuck, you’re sweet.”

He doesn’t give you time to answer, not that you’d know what to say, his mouth is on yours again, his plush lips a perfect fit against yours, his tongue swirling inside you. And the kiss lingers, languid, unhurried, his hands roaming your figure, strong and slow, kneading your curves and using the grip to press you closer and closer into him.

When your fingers thread through his hair, you give his locks a little tug that has him grunting into your mouth. He breaks the kiss, but his mouth remains on you, lips sucking along the edge of your jaw, teeth scraping down your throat, slick pooling sticky and wet between your hips. 

There’s the ghost of a bite over your pulse point; you moan into it and suddenly, time accelerates. His kisses get frantic, he’s devouring you, only lifting his lips off your skin to tug off your t-shirt, deft fingers unclasping your bra. You pull so hard on his shirt you might as well rip it, but he only bites you harder, pushing into you stronger. The back of your knees hit the coffee table, you fall onto the couch. 

And that’s when everything slows again.

His gaze, raking over your naked breasts as he stands before you. His tongue darting between his parted lips. His movements, as he unbuckles his belt. 

You get lost in the sight of his chest, bare, broad, golden in the orange semi-darkness. 

“Take off the rest of your clothes, baby,” he says, and the endearment shoots right through you. 

You’re never recovering from this night, this much you can tell. You’ll want this man forever, you are so fucked. 

You manage to get rid of your shoes and your jeans, but it’s a damn miracle with how much your hands are shaking. He’s toed off his boots and unbuttoned his pants without taking his eyes off you even for a split second. 

There’s something carnivorous in the half-smile dancing on his lips. He’s palming the bulge tenting his black boxer briefs, and you’re about to slide off your panties without a second thought when he stops you. 

“Wait. Bedroom. C’mere.”

Yes, sir. 

You stand up on wobbly legs and his hand skims around the curve of your hip, down the swell of your ass. He takes your arm, lifts it up to wrap around his neck, and you follow, diligently, circling your other arm around his broad shoulders. 

He picks you up like you fucking weigh nothing, how strong is this guy? What do they feed them in the Army? 

He keeps you there for a moment, your legs wrapped around his tapered waist, skin on skin, his head slightly tilted up and his eyes boring into yours. His hands grasping your ass cheeks, a bruising grip, the tip of his fingers reaching into that hollow curve at the top of your thighs, under the line of your panties, where you’re soaked with want for him. 

Your heart is beating so fast, pounding so hard, it’s going to tear out of your chest. Land right into his. 

The crease in his brow deepens, his gaze on you intensifies, thoughts clouding his rich brown eyes. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but closes it again.   

“Frankie—” you start, but he cuts you in. 

“Wait. I need to know this is not a one-time thing. I’m gonna see you again, right?”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

There are people laughing outside in the street. The sound of a police siren in the distance. A dog barking. You commit everything to memory. The amber darkness, the city noises, the hope in his eyes. The sensation of his strong hold, and that of your hardened nipples grazing his chest. 

“Yes. Yes, please,” you whisper, and he smiles, that wide dimpled smile you’d do everything for, his fingers burrowing a little deeper into your flesh. 

He carries you into the bedroom, bathed in the same orange semi-darkness, and lays you onto his bed. You sink into the fluffy cottony material of the comforter that smells like him. Leather and musk and safety. He hovers over you, eyes locked on yours. 

He rocks gently into you, just a faint press, his waist spreading your hips open, his hands roaming along the expanse of your naked skin, palming your breasts. The fabric of his tight boxers catches at your soaked panties, the button of his jeans biting into your belly. 

“Can I taste you?” he asks, his voice a low husk, and for a second, you think he’s asking if he can kiss you again, but you quickly register, and your eyes grow wide. 

You nod, unable to articulate around the anticipation swelling in your throat. 

He makes a start at moving over you, but stops, and instead leans in to kiss you again. A wide, hungry kiss, licking into you avidly, pressing into you greedily, swallowing your moans as your fingernails run through his nape and into his hairline. 

He pulls away, and you all but whine, chasing his lips, rising to your elbows. Unwavering, he moves down on the bed, and there’s another flash of that carnivorous smile as he takes off his jeans, as he kneels between your legs. 

You watch, wide-eyed and ragged breath, as he brushes his knuckles along that curve at the top of your thigh, thick fingers hooking under the elastic band of your panties, pulling it to the side. He smiles at you again, before his head dips. 

His tongue parts your fold, and your head lolls back between your shoulders with a strangled cry. His hand pushing up the back of your knee, spreading you wider than you ever thought your body capable of, he licks into you with a rumbling groan. 

The curled tip of his tongue dives deep into your cunt, tasting you with thorough strokes, but he lifts his head with a pained grunt and a sliver of self-consciousness rips through your chest. 

“Fuck, baby, I think you’re going to ruin me.”

Your arms buckle, your back hitting the mattress, and he slides your panties down, twisting them around his wrist, before hooking your legs over his broad shoulders, and he buries his face into your cunt again. 

The wet glide of this tongue is hot and heavy, licking in broad stripes, sucking on your clit, thrusting into you. Arousal pools in, sticky and rich, at the base of your spine, streaming down your walls. You moan and wither against his mouth, and he chases your movements, cueing his ministrations to your reactions. 

Wet, explicit sounds fill the bedroom. He plays you like an instrument, your hips bucking against his face, wanton whimpers spilling out of you like music, fingers threading through his curls, and he brings you close, so close to your release, without ever letting you tip over the edge.

He’s taking his sweet time about it, true to his word, and you're begging now, sweet little moans you didn’t know your voice could carry, Frankie, Frankie please.

Gently, he eases your legs down, sitting back on his haunches on the bed. It’s a hitched breath, a broken little cry as cold air hits your soaked cunt but he runs a soothing hand along your inner thigh. 

“Shh, I got you, baby. I got you.”

Empty. The word flashes through your dazed brain, and you turn your head to the side to hide your face in the comforter. 

You’re empty, and you want him to fill you up. And you don’t know what you’re hiding from, if it’s from him or the embarrassment of being so fucking needy or the magnitude of your desire, but there’s this abyss inside you only him can fill and fuck, you’ve never felt this vulnerable before. Why now? Why him?

His finger presses at your entrance and you let out a quivering breath. A shallow thrust, an easy glide, and he adds another. Your back arches with relief. A flex of his digits, and he’s stroking a soft spot inside your cunt you didn’t know existed. 

With your last shred of strength, you lift your head up. He’s watching you, his boxers pulled down, practiced fingers circling his cock, dragging slowly up and down along the length of it. The orange glow from the streetlights ripples over his skin in amber shades and dark shadows. Your eyes trace the broad span of his chest, his strong, corded neck, the dark crown of his curls. 

The man looks like a fucking god.  

“Jesus,” you whimper, and he chuckles, that wolfish smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The bottom half of his face glints in the semi-darkness, shiny with your slick. Precome dribbling over his knuckles. This is fucking filthy. You revel in it.

Your head drops with a soundless laugh, hips swaying along with his stroking fingers. 

You’re going to lose your mind with how good it feels, you think, but then it gets even worse, or better, when he lowers his thumb to your clit, rubbing smooth circles over it and your chest heaves with a silent plea. 

Soon, a tremor sizzles along your thighs, your release coiling brisk and strong at the center of you. It builds up like electricity, like liquid fire, potent and fast and white-hot.

Your entire body is alight with it, it travels down every nerve-ending and you come undone, you fucking unravel, his name dragging out on your lips. 

He lowers himself to slant his mouth over your cunt and you recoil, but he’s careful, his tongue darting swiftly into you, drinking your release with greedy groans. 

When he’s sure to have it all, he moves back over you, his face out of focus through your glazed eyes, the bulk of him engulfing you, his heady scent filling your lungs. 

“Wanna taste how sweet you are?” he asks, and you nod, sprawled out, boneless, pliant. 

His hand hinges your jaw open, thumb on your bottom lip. His spit rolls down his tongue into your open mouth and his hooded eyes, black with want, flicker down to your throat as you swallow it all. 

“Oh, you’re a good girl,” he marvels, and the praise is like a shockwave, like a second high, it coats your palate and sticks to your skin. You could swear it’s fucking tangible. 

You need more, more of him, more of that, but you’re not sure what’s next. This is uncharted territory. No man has ever prioritized your pleasure over his, before. 

You lift your hips off the mattress, bucking into him, but he frowns.

“If you need time—”

“I need you inside me,” you plead. 

“It’s a lot more than two fingers, baby,” he warns and yes, you can tell, with the heavy weight of his cock thrumming hot and angry against your belly. 

“I can take it.”

He huffs a smile, but it quickly falls when you tip your chin, wrapping his thumb between your lips. Your tongue curls around the pad of it as you suck on it, and you hear him gulp. One all. 

Oh, but he was right, it’s more, much more than two fingers, and his first thrust, however gentle, however shallow, has you squirming around the stretch of him. Your fingernails digging into his arms, he grunts with the effort, pushing in slowly, pulling out, and in again, sweat beading along his spine, restraint tensing his jaw. 

You lift your head, scraping your teeth over that bare patch in his scruffy jaw. 

“I can take it,” you repeat, and he growls, head dropping into the curve of your neck, sinking his sharp teeth into the soft skin at the base of your throat. 

He shoves himself in down to the base, and you cry out, but he doesn’t stop. He moves into you. With deep thorough thrusts, fast-paced and rough, he fills you up, just like you wanted, just like you asked, skin catching around his girth at your entrance. Sucking hard on the tender skin of your neck, sharp little bruises blooming in purple flecks along the column of your throat. 

Knees hitched up high along his sides, you feel sweat breaking on your forehead as you ease into his relentless rhythm, into the impossible size of him, into the pleasure-pain, because this is what you wished for. To feel him tonight. To feel him still tomorrow. And perhaps the day that follows. 

His grunts fan the shell of your ear, sending more slick rushing down your walls. His hand squeezes your breast, his trigger finger and thumb pinching your nipple, merciless, and your cunt starts to flutter along his length, a frantic collapsing of your walls, eyes clenched shut under your pinched brow. 

“Oh god, I’m so close,” you whine, and he straightens up without breaking his rhythm. 

“I wanna see your face when you come on my cock”, he growls, hooking his elbow under your knee, using it for leverage to bear you down on his cock as he picks up the fucking pace. 

His broad hand splayed reverently over your belly, the heel of it is a steady pressure over your clit, and when you come, your whole body quaking with the force of your second relief, he quickly follows, pulling out just in time to spurt thick pearly ropes over your quivering skin. 

“Oh shit, look at you,” he pants, before he collapses on the bed next to you, chest heaving. 

You lie there side by side for a beat, the room around you slowly coming back into focus. That damn dog is still barking, the night traffic a low and distant hum. 

Would it… would it be okay, acceptable, if you gathered his come with your fingers and licked them clean? Could you ask him to fuck your mouth, next? Or should you scamper off the bed to gather your clothes and leave? What’s the common protocol here? No one has ever turned you into this feral, greedy little monster before.  

He clears his throat. Oh fuck, that’s it. He’s gonna politely hint that you should now be leaving the premises. 

“Can you stay the night?”

Your eyes flutter shut. A hindered little sob rattles inside your chest. You address a heartfelt thank you to your lucky star for the midnight cravings that placed you in that corner deli the same night as him. Fuck, you’ll throw one in for that armed robber too.

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask.

He turns to his side to face you, folding his arm and propping his chin in his hand. His soft brown eyes meet yours. And there’s that gentle smile that swells up your heart three sizes.

“Yes, please.”

****

End note: the opening scene is very much inspired by one of the fair scenes in Anchor Stitch, on Ao3. Not for every one, but one of my all-time favourites. Also, this is fanfiction, so I wasn't going to bother with a fucking condom, but I know you're smarter than that.

Part 1

[namelessdumbass]

Rite Here Rite Now

It was amazing and funny. Copia girlies and boys fucking won!

I expected different outcome, tbh. Tobias managed to surprise me and also made me a tiny bit sad (reasons will be explained in the spoilers below).

The film consists of like 95% of concert footage and 5% of off stage/plot stuff. The quality of sound and editing is just 🤌 I expected the live of Twenties to be good and gosh Ghost delivered. And Mummy Dust...Tobias let Mary Goore out! But i honestly prefer Terzo's version (CaD) better. Sorry not sorry haha. Ghouls/Ghoulettes footage. Everyone who loves them will be very veeeery well fed!

Dance Macabre live...i was'nt wrong when i called it a satanic gay party 😁

The movie is worth watching and i do hope Ghost releases it as soon as possible for all those who were not able to go.

The spoiler free review ends here. Don't read further if you don't want to spoil it for yourself. And please, don't copy them and paste it everywhere for the sake of ruining other people's fun! Seriously, don't fucking do that!

If you accidently clicked here, don't worry! spoilers will be below and you still have a chance to avoid them :)

Alriiiiight:

Movie starts with Saltarian who tells fans to record for the first 2 minutes, to show how happy they are etc and posted a qr code for fans to upload those recordings. I guess it will be put up on RHRN website. We'll see. There were also photos of fans who attended LA ritual. I fucking loved the person who showed up in a giant Plushia suit. I LOLed! Then fans were asked to put down the phones and enjoy the movie. The beginning was narrated Star Wars kinda style (a little bit) with the small recap of the chapters and about Copia's worries that he might die. And yes, it literally began in space lol. The movie is basically is like what we saw in small snippets Ghost posted earlier. Plot mixed with a really good show.

And the plot: -Short footage of Copia and Ghouls arriving. ALmost the whole set was the same as any other concert from Re-Imperatour + a few awesome exceptions. -Dews does that annoying thing with guitar, Rain stops him, takes his pick and throws it into the crowd and Dew...he freaking showed him YouSuck sticker on the backside of his guitar. Peak Dew moment! -Copia asked the right question about the Clery. He also does not quite understand what it does, why and where it goes. I suppose Tobias decided to thicken the Ghost lore a bit and will have more clarity in the nearest future. -Remember when Copia jumped at the end of the Watcher in the Sky? He ended up in one of those stage boxes (for equipment or something) and is taken to the stage B. While he's carried to it by Kevin he has a chat with Nihil's ghost. Nihil says he recorded not 2, but 3 songs. That probably means that we'll hear a new one. (UPD: the new song we heard during the credits, "The Future is a Foreign Land" is Nihil's 3rd song! Confirmed by Tobias himself in a new interview). He also tells Copia to breath in deep and then farts. -On the Stage B Copia sings "If You Have Ghosts". 3 Ghoulettes played piano and violins and the 4th one did the haunting ghost-like opera vocals. It was beatiful. Copia kissed her hand. -He then wore boxing robe and went next to crowd. Almost the whole scene was shown in the trailer. -Btw, remember that silly moment when Nihil's eyes were crossing? Well, Kevin was also included in that staring contest. -Twenties live. The skeletons, the performance and one of those skeletons who crawled between Dew's legs...that's hot. -Nihil calls Copia "son". Copia calls Nihil "Dad". Cardi will insult him later, don't worry. -Nihil/Seestor cartoon during MOAC. Yes, that's when Sis hit him with the car. Basically it's what happens after "Kiss the Go Goat" mv. Sister leaves and Nihil runs after her. "I'll never let you go". They end up kissing in a coffin on a graveyard , later Nihil wakes up naked in a bed in a motel and we see Sister leave. -There was a moment in a movie when we see Ashley (stage crew) bring Copia a new pair of shoes and put the on on his feet. Tobias, goddammit what the hell was that? :D -Seestor was a in wheelchair all the time -She and Nihil encouraged Copia throughout the whole movie and gave him a piece of advice. -About the baloon from the poster. Copia flies on it after finishing the set...or he imagined that because a few moments later after Nihil/Seestor flashbacks he ends up on the floor and watches Seestor die. All of the Ghouls and Ghoulettes also stood right next to her. -Copia has a twin brother -Copia didn't die and became the head the Clergy (Father Imperator or something like this). He found out about his new position from a letter Seestor left for him. -New song during credits (credits show dictators, assassinations, wars and the use of nuclear war). Years 1984 and 2024 mentioned. The song is not heavy. -Ghouls/Ghoulettes real names mentioned in the credits -Funny post credit scene with Copia. He had no piant on and had a new cool drip (with black jacket and red and black cross). Seestor is also a Ghost now. Tobia's children cameo. They're also Ghosts. -Papa V is teased the same way Copia was teased in a chapter 1. They even used the same music (Pro Memoria). No face reveal. Either he will be revealed in new Chapters or at some point during the new tour???

-aaaand my biggest disappointment: no footage of Primo, Secondo and Terzo. Literally ZERO.

I mean, Nihil is a Ghost, Seestor also became a Ghost, even Tobias' children made a cameo as Ghosts, but nothing for previous Papas? Really?! The same could have been done for them, but i guess Tobias doesn't care about them anymore :( And it hurts. I know that's my fault that i had so many expectations and hopes, but holy shit :( As a newbie who never saw previous Papas, i'm so sad i'll never get a chance to see them and there won't be any new footage of them. Being Terzo widow is so hard. Guess that's why i'm a bit salty Copia lives (sorry, guys, i like him, but i also hate him haha)

And yes, as it turned out the twins theory from Square Hammer was true...but not for Terzo 😭

I enjoyed the movie nevertheless. It's fun and kinda gives you an opportunity to see the band "live" if you've never been to a ritual before. And yes, the movies was'nt just about Papa IV and his fate, i believe it was also Tobias' message for us to enjoy the life rite here rite now! As i said, Copia's girlies and boys truly fucking won. Congrats, lads, your Papa lives and will live! I bet that feels amazing. Thanks for reading! P.S. since you know the plot, don't spoil it for the others please.

[fizzigigsimmer]

We joke about Steve's breeding kink, but Steve's ONE dream in this hot mess of a show has become deeply important to me. The menfolk of the world are not okay! 😄 Toxic masculinity has them terrified that someone will guess that their emotional range is deeper than a thimble. That shit has caused more broken homes and world dysfunction than we could ever quantify. Let boys be good husbands and fathers! Normalize boys who answer 'I want to be a dad when I grow up' whether they had a great one, a shit one, or no one!

Normalize Steve who just want babies for all the reasons humans ever want babies! You heard that right, life goal = daddy! He can't wait to get off work and see their kiddos. Normalize Steve who likes being a stay at home dad and doesn't give one flying fuck what you think about it Ted! He said, 'no babe take that promotion. I'll take time off of work so someone can ferry the little sprocket back and forth to the good preschool.' Pay for daycare? Insane! He thinks YOU'RE weird for caring Ted, here's his two week notice by the way.

Normalize Steve who plans family day trips with the same heart as a week long family vacation. Who maybe doesn't have all the therapy words to verbalize it, but still makes it unmistakably clear that family time is his number one priority. Nobody could hold a candle to his partner, and his kids are the best thing since sliced bread. Yes he takes an embarrassing amount of photos of them, and yes his friends have seen his entire camera roll more times than they want to count.

Normalize Steve who gives no fucks about spending his days wiping snotty noses and answering important life questions like 'why do we poop?' and carrying around little nuggets with fluffy hair and puffy cheeks in cutsey little stomach and back carriers. He picked that shit out himself, and you read that shit right, she's 'daddy's little terror' and why yes, that is an ewok onsie. Dustin told him so. What's a star war got to do with it?

Normalize Steve whose capacity for love and gentleness astounds his partner every damn day, because it amplifies the qualities truly responsible for his course correction in season one, in a way that our emotionally tortured toxic cesspool of a society never allowed him to before someone let him love them and gave it back. Normalize a Steve who said fuck the patriarchy bullshit, being somebody's partner makes him so happy they never worry about that man for a second. Steve risking their relationship? HA! That man tears up at old home videos! Shut up. That man is so fulfilled by his family, the neighbors think they're mormans the way the house just keeps growing!

[sagesolsticewrites]

Take A Break

Rosie runs into a childhood friend at the flak house.

Requested by anon, based on the prompts “I kissed you because I wanted to. Dumbass.” and “You’ve got stars in your eyes.”

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

As you stood on the front steps of Coombe House, you found yourself nervous for the first time since you’d started there.

Lieutenant Robert Rosenthal was the name at the top of the list of the latest group of soldiers assigned to the house, and since you’d been given it, you couldn’t stop thinking about a childhood friend of yours from Brooklyn with the same name.

Don’t be ridiculous, you scold yourself, reminding the sentimental part of you that the odds of it actually being Robbie were astronomical and you shouldn’t get your hopes up.

Pasting on your best smile as the car filled with boisterous soldiers pulls up, you shove those thoughts away.

“Hello gentlemen!” you call, “I’m Y/N. Welcome to Coombe House.”

You lead them around the house, reciting your spiel about the various activities and amenities, and then passing them off to Michael.

A gentleman who had been hanging towards the back of the group during the tour stepped up, calling your name as the rest of the group was led to their rooms.

“Robert Rosenthal,” he said, introducing himself, “I was just wondering--”

“Robbie?” you gasp.

The brightness in them had dimmed the slightest bit, but you'd recognize those kind blue eyes anywhere.

His brow furrows, no doubt baffled at hearing his childhood nickname all the way over in England.

“I’m sorry, how did you— Wait,” he scans your face, recognizing… something, “Y/N… L/N?”

At your answering nod, you’re tackled in a hug, his joyous, disbelieving laugh filling your ears.

“What are you—? How—?”

“I wanted to help out, and I guess the Army figured this is where my skills would be best put to use,” you explain with a laugh, “When I saw your name on the list I wasn’t sure if it was really you, but…”

“Gosh, Y/N, I haven’t seen you in…”

“Nearly 10 years? I know, I tried to keep in touch after we moved…”

You catch up with your friend, responsibilities forgotten — “So… Rosie, huh?” “Hey, you’d be surprised how little control you have over nicknames in the Army!” — until the clock begins to chime and you realize you’ve spent nearly half an hour just standing here talking.

As Robert begins to excuse himself, not wanting to take up any more of your time, you recall the incident that led to this conversation.

“Er, you said you had a question?”

He hums in confusion before remembering “Oh! Yeah, I was just wondering how long I have to be here…?”

“Unfortunately that’s not really up to me,” you reply with an apologetic shrug, “It’s the decision of your CO to send you boys out here, but you’re welcome to chat to Dr. Huston about it.”

“Though while you’re here,” you say as he’s about to walk away, “I’d recommend taking advantage of the baths and hot water. Absolutely life-changing.” You add with a teasing grin.

He lets out a laugh, though not nearly as genuine as you’d hoped. With that, Rosie thanks you and departs with a two-fingered salute

Robert spends the first couple days at the house keeping his distance from his crewmates, his eyes continually on the sky rather than taking part in the sports and activities available to the soldiers. He doesn’t seem like the boy you remember, but… well, there is a war going on. It’s changed everyone it touches.

One night you find yourself wandering the halls, unable to sleep, when you hear music coming from one of the sitting rooms.

“Hello?” You call softly, following the sounds of Duke Ellington to find Robert standing next to the record player, staring out the window at the darkened English countryside, soft curls tinted slightly blue in the moonlight.

He starts, then relaxes once he sees you.

“Hey,” he says, turning down the volume, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you-”

“I was up already,” you assure him, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I guess I’m having a hard time with,” he gestures to the lavish country house with a shrug, “all this? I mean… all the croquet, badminton, riding with hounds— what even is that, by the way?”

Your lips twitch up into a smile as you move to stand beside him, “Foxhunting.”

“Foxhunting,” he sighs, shaking his head, “That’s exactly what I don’t need right now.”

He turns his gaze to the star-filled night sky, “What I need is to be back in that seat getting this job done.”

He continues, talking to himself almost as much as you, “Sittin’ here doing nothing, when people are bein’ persecuted and— I can’t— I had gotten into a rhythm, you know? Three days, three missions, easy. And now being yanked out of that, it’s like…”

He searches for an analogy, and you can’t help but smile at the one he lands on, recalling his fascination with music back when you were children.

“You don’t yank Gene Krupa out in the middle of a drum solo, and then expect him to pick right back up where he left off two weeks later, you know?”

You nod, understanding where he’s coming from. You recognized that while some jumped at the chance for a distraction, it was a more difficult adjustment for some soldiers to be thrust into this environment after so long in battle.

“Well, Gene Krupa’s not just responsible for his own rhythm, is he?” You say softly, following his analogy, “He’s responsible for the rhythm of the whole band. And if he’s off, then…”

Rosie nods, letting out a soft laugh, “Okay, I see where you’re going with that.”

“Seriously, Robbie,” you say, taking a chance and resting your hand on top of his on the windowsill, his gaze meeting yours at your touch, “If you don’t let yourself take a break, even just for a little while… it’s not gonna be good.”

He’s silent, and for a moment you worry you’ve overstepped.

Until he mumbles, in a voice so soft you’re not even sure you were meant to hear it, “You’ve got stars in your eyes.”

Maybe it’s the soft sounds of Duke Ellington still playing. Maybe it’s the moonlight, the calm silence filling the house.

Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re the first good thing he’s seen in a long time.

You’re not quite sure what, but something possesses you to surge up onto your toes and press your lips to his.

His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, before he abruptly pulls away.

“I, ah…” He says, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts, “You didn’t just do that because you felt… sorry for me or somethin’, did you?”

Relief floods through you— he’s concerned with why you kissed him, not the mere fact that you did.

You cup his cheek, and Rosie’s eyes close, leaning into your touch as you say softly, “I kissed you because I wanted to.”

Then, after a moment’s consideration, you add with a smile, “Dumbass.”

His eyes shoot open as he barks out a laugh.

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?”

Your giggles are swiftly silenced by his lips landing on yours once more, the tension finally leaving his shoulders for the first time in weeks.

The two of you end up on the couch, talking late into the night about what brought you to England, Rosie mostly telling you in hushed tones about the friends he’d made in the 100th— men that were no longer here, but lived on in his memory, and now yours. You fall asleep leaning against each other, still holding hands.

You shift, eyes fluttering open as the gray dawn light filters into the room. It takes you a moment to get your bearings, but you grin seeing Rosie asleep next to you, looking the most relaxed you’ve seen him since he arrived. With a single kiss to his forehead, you slip away to the women’s wing of the house until it’s an appropriate hour for you to stumble upon him in the sitting room.

Armed with a thick blanket and a coffee service, you creep in to see Rosie still sound asleep. Smiling, you gently lay the blanket over him, trying not to wake him. Unfortunately, he stirs the moment the blanket touches him.

He looks around, attempting to orient himself, and relaxes when he sees you.

“Good morning,” you grin, taking in his sleep-mussed curls shining golden in the morning light, “Coffee?”

“Please,” he replies in a voice rough with sleep, mustache twitching up into a smile as he sits up.

“Just don’t tell anyone, alright?” You say coyly as you prepare a cup, “I can’t be bringing all you boys breakfast in bed, now can I?”

“Well, I must be special,” he grins, taking the cup gratefully and adding with a wink, “I’ll take it to the grave.”

You’re glad to see him relax a tiny bit more over the group’s last few days at the house, and the two of you are able to find plenty of stolen moments together once everyone’s gone to bed.

When it’s time for them to return to base, he leaves you with a promise to write and a kiss. He captures your lips tenderly on the front steps, disregarding the whoops and cheers from his crew mates waiting in the Jeep, and you can’t help smiling despite yourself as they drive away, keeping your eyes on him for as long as you can.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Treat You 7

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note:Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

When Peter returns, he’s not alone. You stand, feeling gangly as you hunch, as he introduces his friend; Ned. You offer a tense smile and your name. He’s friendly, like Peter, but still a stranger.

“Yo, Pete,” Ned approaches the TV, “why are we not racing for the mushroom cup right now?”

“Ned,” Peter drones.

“He’s a sore loser,” Ned scoffs as he grabs two colourful shapes; one red, another blue. As he nears, he holds one out to you. The buttons on it suggest some sort of controller. “So, how about it, you ready to dethrone the champ?”

“Take it easy on her, Ned,” Peter slides a tray of crackers and cheese between the bowls of chips.

“I’m sure she’s not half as bad as you.”

“Um, I never…” you take the controller and rub your lips together, “I’ve never played… actually.”

“Ah, a noob, no worries then,” Ned plops down on the couch, “we’ll play easy.”

“Oh, uh, okay, I guess, but er…” you look around, “if Peter wants to play–”

“Actually, I need to listen for the door,” Peter counters.

“Right,” you turn back to the TV and sit. You thumb the stick and examine the buttons as the loud music erupts from the speakers.

“So this one you can steer, or you can tilt the controller,” Ned explains, and you press this button to go…”

You try to keep track but you’re not too sure. It seems pretty intuitive. You think.

A new screen comes up and there’s an array of characters to choose from. You choose the princess in the yellow dress over the dinosaur. You wait for the first track to load as your hands sweat around the controller.

The first lap has you veering and crashing but on the second you get a handle of it. It’s not as hard as it seems. Your usual clumsiness doesn’t translate to the digital. You come in fifth. Not as bad as it could be.

As you wait for the second race, voices carry from behind you. You turn as two girls and a guy enter. Ned peeks over, “hey.”

“Hi,” one of the girls chimes back as she approaches, “oh, you must be the one Peter mentioned. I’m Gwen,” she announces, “MJ,” she points over her shoulder, “and Harry.”

“Oh, okay,” you stand again, awkwardly swaying on your long legs, “do you wanna play?”

“We can wait,” she assures, “actually, we’re going to check out the snacks.”

“Right, uh, nice to meet you,” you murmur and sit back down.

Ned asks if you’re ready and you nod. He hits a button and a new race begins. You’re silent as you focus on staying on the road.

“I’m no good at parties either,” he says suddenly, “not that this is much of one. Peter’s not exactly the cool guy.”

“Right, er, it’s… just a lot of strangers.”

“Relax,” Ned says, “I’m gonna get you good. You’re gonna beat them all.”

You laugh, a bit less nervous as he keeps it light, “yeah, I… I’ll try.”

“Pizza,” Peter’s voice punctures the din.

“Finally,” Ned groans but keeps playing, “save me a slice of deluxe.”

The savoury, greasy scent permeates the room almost instantaneously. Your stomach roars but you focus on the screen. You bump another character out of the way as you squint. You’re almost done the last lap.

“Hey,” Ned says, “that was me.”

“Oh, sorry,” you utter as you cross the finish line.

“Woo, first place,” he nudges you lightly, “see, you’re a natural.” He stands as your stomach continues to gurgle, “I’ve trained you well, young padawan.”

“Um,” you furrow your brows.

“Right, not a Star Wars fan, noted,” he smirks, “anyways, I’m starving. How about we feed that dragon in your belly?”

You look down, embarrassed.

“I’m okay,” you say.

“There’s plenty to go around, better get it while it’s hot,” he insists and leaves the controller on the armrest.

You reach over to do the same but stay seated. Your stomach really hurts and your head is starting to pulse. You should eat but you just feel… out of place. Like you shouldn’t be here. You don’t belong and you don’t deserve to share all this nice food.

“Hey, you like cheese,” Peter sits beside you, “got double.”

He holds two plates, hovering one before you.

“Oh, you didn’t have to…”

“You can always switch up if you want pepperoni,” he holds the plate before your nose. You salivate. You can’t hold out any longer.

“Thanks,” you accept the plate, nearly shaking as dizziness swirls in your head.

“No problem,” he sets his plate in his lap and lifts the first slice.

You mirror him and take a small bite of the end. You chew slowly, trying not to betray how your stomach clenches violently. You could devour the slice in a single bite but you don’t want them to judge you. You continue with measured nibbles.

“If you don’t like pizza…”

“No, I do,” you assure him. “Thanks, it’s really good.”

“Well, next time, I’ll make sure to get your fave toppings. You like mushrooms? Oh, don’t tell me you’re an anchovies girl.”

“Oh, no, I haven’t… had that,” you shake your head as you pick at the crust.

“Or maybe you’re more into hamburgers? Oh, how about pasta? Sushi?”

“No, no, I like pizza,” you assure him.

“Well, you can help yourself, there’ll be lots of leftovers, I’m sure,” he stands up, his plate empty as you break the crust of your first in half, “you need more water?”

“No thanks,” you focus on your plate.

“Be right back,” he promises and shuffles away.

“So,” the girl named MJ comes around, chewing while she talks. You look up at her and put the crust down. “You and Peter, how long have you been together?”

“Pardon? Together? Oh, I only just met him a few weeks ago–”

“You two must be getting serious,” she says, “you’re a cute couple.”

“What?” Your heart hammers. “No, I–”

“You know,” Gwen approaches, “just like Peter to spring a girlfriend on us without warning.”

Your mouth opens and you blink dumbly. They think you and Peter are together?

“I’m not his girlfriend,” you say.

“Oh, ha, sorry, no labels,” MJ winks, “it’s only what he told us.”

“He said that?”

“To be honest, when we saw you, we didn’t believe him,” Gwen snickers.

You swallow and stand up. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say a word. You take your plate to the table and put it down. You grab a paper towel from the roll and wipe your fingers off as you head for the stairs. You’ve never been more embarrassed in your life. 

They couldn’t believe Peter would be with someone like you. They’re right to doubt that but it still stings. Just as always, you’re not good enough.