#that means any loss is gonna be internal

[chronicillnesscaneffoffplease]

“The labs found something wrong!” 😊😌

“The labs found something wrong!” 😥😔

The two moods when labs actually come back with stuff out of range and clearly not right™️.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃, 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—a day with your favorite person on earth leads you to a fancy hotel for one weekend.. where you finally give yourself to your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.

content: college au, fluff, biker gojo, nerdy fem! reader, rich boy gojo (he spoils you bad bad), loving gojo, popular boy shy girl trope, smut, virginity loss, gentle sex, pussy eating, a lot of praise, petnames, reassurance

Friday, marked the calendar on your phone. You stood outside your house swaying lightly on your feet as you waited for your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru. He refused to let you get to school any other way.

You were clad in a simple white sweater and a black skirt, which blew up at the gust of wind created from your boyfriend’s speeding bike. You smiled, fixing your glasses on your face before giving him a pretty smile.

The tall man getting off with a grin on his face. Shaking his hair back into place as he took off his black helmet. Gojo walked towards you to embrace you in a tight hug, his hands around your waist lifting you off of the ground making you giggle. “Hi baby.”

Gojo placed a short kiss to your lips, “Hello princess,” his eyes filled with adoration as he walked you to his bike with his hand still on your waist. Putting on the helmet he made you choose out before helping you onto the seat. “Hold on tight.”

You always enjoyed morning rides like this. The cool wind on your skin as Gojo maneuvered through countless vehicles. Always making sure to not go too fast for your sake.

Your hands rested on his abs from behind, your vision being blocked by his back which you didn’t mind one bit. Gojo turned to ensure that you were alright, something he did every morning. And although you kept telling him that you were fine, he insisted on keeping himself reassured.

You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, your smile still on your face even as you approached campus. Your boyfriend quick to park in the spot that everyone knew belonged to him.

Girls gawked as Gojo removed his helmet, once again fixing the white fluff of hair on his head before he was getting off the bike. Helping you do the same and removing your helmet for you, pushing your glasses further up your face since they had began falling. “God you’re so beautiful.” Gojo breathed.

And your heart beat sped up as you looked down shyly. Compliments.. you still weren’t very used to those. Gojo’s fingers found their way under your chin to lift your head up, “You’re really cute when you’re flustered you know that?”

He intertwined his fingers into yours, “Plus, there’s no need to be shy around me princess.”

You could feel eyes burning into you as you walked with Gojo, burying your body into his side at all the stares. “Are they ever not gonna stare..” you mumbled, looking up at him as he looked down at you. “They’re just jealous my love, don’t worry.”

You nodded, lips pulled into a tight line at the girls sending dirty looks your way. This was university for goodness sakes.. were they ever going to grow up. Noticing your discomfort, Gojo scowled in the direction of the girls, “The fuck are you looking at?” Watching as their eyes widened before scrambling off.

It was no secret that your boyfriend was popular, every teacher and every student knew his name. He was kind, a little mean and protective when it came to you, but he really was kind to everybody.

You however, you were just a girl who was non existent until you started dating Gojo. How did you two start dating? No one could phantom it.

—

Sitting on one of the bleachers, you were deep in a book. Your lunch sitting uneaten next to as you scanned through the words on each page. It was a romance, which you usually didn’t read but this one was just.. interesting.

Losing track of the time, your eyes widened when you saw that you were minutes late to your lecture. Hurriedly scrambling up your belongings and making your way inside.

You internally cringed when you pushed open the double doors to your class. All heads turning to look at you while your professor simply ushered you to take a seat. He knew you were never late, so he was very understanding.

Taking a random seat, you were quick to pull out your books and highlighters to take notes. Concentratedly jotting down important points and details, using your middle finger to sit your black framed glasses higher onto the bridge of your nose.

“Mind sending me a picture of those later today? I forgot my materials at home.” a familiar face smiled innocently, his bag hidden near his feet as he waited for an answer.

Gojo Satoru. A name that you obviously knew. He was extremely handsome up close, and his cologne smelt great. And he.. was talking to you? You tried your hardest to act neutral when you focused your attention onto him. “Oh, uh sure. No problem.”

“Great, let me put my number in your phone so you can text it to me yeah?”

You nodded, handing him the device and watching as he typed his number in. Saving it as Satoru. With a heart.

He finished just in time for the lecture to end. Slinging his bag over his shoulder with a wink, “Thanks princess.”

Ever since that interaction the only thing on Gojo’s mind was you. He began texting you for every little thing and talking to you every day. You guys became somewhat of friends.

Then he was holding your hands all day, saying that they were so much smaller and softer than his. Or wrapping his hand around your waist when you two walked. He told his friend Suguru about you, and though at the time you did not know the other male who attended a different school, you’d assumed he was a pretty great person.

Whispers started to float around the school about your relationship. None of which Gojo ever shut down despite knowing he had the ability to.

You and Gojo made it official after he took you on multiple dates disguised as hangouts. And you couldn’t even deny it, you had already started to fall for him by then. So when he pressed his lips to yours, pulling you impossibly closer to him with his hands on your waist. You melted. That was your first kiss, and it was perfect.

There should not have been a difference in Gojo’s behavior considering he treated you like his girlfriend from the get go. But he somehow proved that statement wrong. He was the best thing anyone could ever ask for. And he was most certainly the best thing that happened to you.

He got you used to early morning and late night bike rides. To the point where you began to love them just as much. You two were polar opposites, but he made it work.

One thing you never got used to, were the never ending stares and whispers directed your way. Even though Gojo was always there to put the person or people in their place.

You loved Gojo Satoru, and Gojo Satoru loved you.

—

The day went by very quickly, you snd Gojo did not share any classes. But you spent every minute in between together. Especially since you both had only morning classes.

Gojo smiled as you two walked towards each other. Happy that he would be able to spend the rest of the day together. Until..

“Hi Satoru!” she smiled sweetly, purposely blocking his movements when he tried to walk past. You bit your lips as you watched the scene, not finding it in you to tell her off.

Gojo sighed in annoyance, “What the fuck do you want.” his voice was stern, she had been bothering him for over a year now, and it only got worse when he started dating you.

She tilted her head, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Oh you know.. just wanted to say that if you ever got tired of that ugly slut of a nerd i’ll be right—“

Her high pitched voice was cut off by Gojo holding her roughly by her neck. Something that was way out of character for him. He was just so sick and fucking tired of people talking about you like you weren’t a person. His person.

Backing her roughly into the lockers, Gojo voice was low and aggressive, “If you ever fucking talk about my girl like that again, i swear i’ll fucking-“

“Gojo..” you called out, the man’s eyes softening when he caught sight of you. “It’s fine, let’s just go.. please?”

Gojo nodded, giving the girl another dirty look, “I'd pick her over your ass any day.” Letting go of her and walking in your direction. The girl glaring at you before she stomped away.

Gojo’s hand was in yours once more, your head on his side as you two made your way out of the building. Gojo sighed, “I’m sorry love, got a little pissed off there.”

You smiled, “No, don’t be. I’m.. i’m glad you care so much.”

“Of course i care, you’re my girl and i love you.”

Your heart fluttered, “I love you too.” And you truly meant it.

Gojo got onto his bike after helping you on, both your helmets on your heads with your hands around his waist. Making sure you were secured before taking off. Except it was in the completely opposite direction from your house.

“Baby, where are we going?” you asked curiously.

Gojo only grinned cheekily, “You’ll see.”

You trusted him. Enjoying the ride to wherever he was bringing you. Watching as day turned into night from the long ride.

Your eyes widened when Gojo pulled over at some fancy hotel. His smile never faltering as he got off.

“Annnnnd we’re here.” he spoke, looking intently at your reaction.

“Baby why are we here?” you questioned curiously, still marveling over the beautiful tall structure.

“Giving you a weekend off of school, of course. Gotta take your mind away from all that work somehow.”

You were speechless, “Satoru, you really didn’t have to.” Gojo’s hands grabbed your face softly, tears welling in your eyes at the him going this far for you. Especially when one night alone was almost 400 dollars.

“Hey, look at me. I’m more than happy to do this for you.” He reassured, pressing his lips softly onto yours before chuckling, “Plus, when life gives you this much money, spend it on the person you love the most.”

“B-but i don’t have any clothes,”

“I’m taking you shopping tomorrow.”

Gojo lead you through the grand doors of the building, giving his keys to the valet on his way in. Making your way to front desk, you glanced nervously around you. Everything was white and gold, and you gelt so out of place with the clothes you had on.

“Satoru Gojo.” Your boyfriend nodded to the receptionist who smiled knowingly when she handed him the keys. “Enjoy.”

You waited in anticipation for Gojo to open the door. Your jaw dropping when you took sight of the rose petals making a walkway to the room’s bed. Which had the words ‘I love you’ in a heart spelt out from petals.

There were rose scented candles near the bed, but what really caught your attention was the mini backyard the room seemed to have. “Satoru.. you didn’t.”

He hummed, “Oh yes i did,” leading you outside to a large blanket set up. Candles surrounding it with roses scattered all over. A small picnic basket and a bottle of wine in the center as the moonlight shone down of the most beautiful gift you had ever received.

You wanted to burst into tears. It was so perfect, turning to Gojo with a trembling lip before embracing him in a tight hug. “I don’t even know what to s-say.. it’s so beautiful. I-“ you sniffled, “words cannot even begin to express how happy i feel right now. I love it. And i love you even more.”

Gojo smiled, wiping your tears with the pads of his thumb. “Anything for you love. Anything.”

After freshening up, you wore your boyfriend’s oversized sweater, giggling softly when he extended a hand. “Join me for dinner m’ lady?”

“I’d be delighted to.”

You sat next to each other on the wide blanket. Gojo opening the basket to reveal all your favorite foods and deserts. Your eyes practically sparkling under your lenses at the countless options.

You both dug in not long after, laughing with each other as Gojo messily attempted to feed you a slice of cheesecake. The cherry sauce staining the tip of your nose, and you yelped when Gojo licked it off.

It was amazing, you felt at peace. Especially as you two finished eating, each drinking a glass of wine before laying together. Watching the stars with satisfied hearts as you cuddled into your boyfriend. His arm around you as he held you almost on top his chest. Your legs tangled with his long ones as you matched your breaths to his.

Gojo couldn’t help it when your scent alone started to drive him crazy. The feeling of you on him, your skin on his. It was getting to him.

You could feel his cock growing hard underneath you, poking at your flesh making you heat up. Unsure of what to do, you ended up shifting on top of him. The man letting out a groan before holding you still. “Might not wanna move like that love.”

You playing with his shirt as you contemplated what to say next. You were a virgin, but.. you were ready to give it away, to him.

“Satoru.. I um.. I want.. I want you to f-fuck me.” You stuttered out. And Gojo’s eyes widened at the way you worded it. Fuck, huh? You wanted him to fuck you.

“Love, don’t think that you have to do this because you can feel me hard.” he started, “it’ll go away soon, you don’t have to worry.”

You shook your head stubbornly. “No, I.. I want it, want to do it with you tonight. Please.”

Gojo swallowed hard, his boner straining painfully in his pants. “Are you sure princess?”

“Mhm, i’m ready.”

Gojo smiled, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before he was gently turning you onto your back. The stars seemingly only shining down on you in that moment. “You’re so perfect.” he whispered, his eyes stuck on yours as he peeled the sweater off your body.

Finally breaking eye contact to kiss down your neck and onto your chest. Allowing his tongue to swirl around your pert nipple before kissing his way down your stomach. “Whole body’s so perfect.” he spoke against your skin. And you whimpered when he pulled your panties off. “Fucking beautiful.”

Gojo kissed down the smooth skin, kissing your clit which made you shiver, his tongue licking a teasing stripe on the small bud. Gojo continued his way down, kissing both your folds before his tongue made contact with your wetness. He groaned. “You taste so sweet love.”

Your breathing sled up before he could even start anything. Bringing himself up and stripping out of his own clothes. The moon shining onto his back as he hovered over you. His blue eyes bright and beautiful while lining up with your hole.

“You sure about this princess?”

You whined, “Just do it.”

Gojo chuckled, taking your hand in his before slowly pushing into you inch by inch. “It’s gonna sting a little,” he said right before you winced, feeling your tightness stretching to accommodate his girth. “That’s it.. there we go.. good girl.” Gojo soothed.

You let out a moan, a pleasurable sensation raking through your body when his cock grazed something inside of you. Gojo smirked when he got all of his length in you, your pussy tight on his stilled cock. “Tell me when to move okay?”

You wasted no time, wanting that amazing sensation back. “You can move.”

Gojo abided, slowly easing you into the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you. Your lips parting in loud mewls when he gained speed.

“O-oh Satoru, f-feels good.”

Gojo grinned, his pace gaining more speed with each passing second. Rolling his hips into yours until you were moaning uncontrollably. Feeling your boyfriend’s cock fucking into that same spot before making its way deeper.

Your hands reached up for your boyfriend’s hair. Tugging lightly at white strands with short whimpers which matched his thrusts.

Gojo grunted, “You like that?”

You nodded with a shaky cry, your stomach pooling with heat as your body was rocked back and forth. “Ahh— Satoru.” you mewled, Gojo’s mouth latching onto your breasts with a groan, sucking and licking at one while his hand squeezed the other.

Gojo began kissing up your neck. Littering your skin with small love bites as he made his way to your chin. Kissing your cheeks, your forehead, then finally your lips. Capturing all your cute noises while his hand moved down to your clit.

Your back arched with a cry when Gojo began rubbing small circles. Your toes curling with your moans becoming high pitched loud.

“Nnhg— haah— so g-ood,” you breathed, your eyes closing as your body began to tremble. An unfamiliar coil feeling ready to snap.

“Look at me when you cum.” Gojo husked, watching as you look up at him through your lashes. Your hips arching into his hand before you were involuntarily shaking. Your pussy clenching down on him with a short scream.

“There you go beautiful, let it all out.” he cooed, your pretty pussy gushing messily onto him

“Nngh— feels weird,” you mewled, your legs threatening to close around your boyfriend.

“Just let it happen, it’s gonna feel great. I promise.”

You took Gojo’s word, allowing the newfound feeling to wash over your body before your eyes rolled back, squirting harshly onto Gojo’s cock and thighs.

Gojo could feel his ego swell, “I made you squirt princess. My first time in you and i made you squirt.” he boasted, a lazy smile gracing his features as his thrusts got sloppy. Your moans never ceasing as he got closer to his release.

Gojo groaned, “Hmm— i love you so much. Love so you fucking much.” Burying his head in your neck as his abs tensed, quickly pulling out of you to spill onto your stomach. Your chest rising and falling in soft pants as you both came down from your highs.

You smiled shyly, “That was amazing.”

Gojo tilted his head, “Was it now?” Pressing a kiss to your lips, “I’m glad.”

Gojo took you back inside, running you a bath before settling in the tub with you in between his legs. His chin on your shoulder as he let you relax while he cleaned you up.

The weekend went great. He took you shopping, you ate a delicious breakfast, lunch and dinner. Visited the many pools and buffets. And had sex. Twice. It was better than anything you could ask for. And you wouldn’t give it up for the world.

No school, no ‘friends’, no bothers, no worries. Just you and Satoru. Exactly how it will always be.

[bluemerakis]

okay but imagine being stuck in a room with beau, dean and soldier boy and how the dynamics would fucking CLASH 😭😭

soldier boy’s gonna be all up in your ass with some shit he thinks is slick—barely giving you room to breathe while he tries to coax you into his bed. beau’s 100% horrified at the shit streaming from sb’s mouth and he’s getting all protective and steps in to make sure he’s backing the fuck off of you and sb’s either gonna give in with some disdainful sniff before continuing to smoke away his loss or he’s going to throw one on beau and the two start brawling to the death. and then dean, who was happily watching the drama unfold, is eventually gonna step in to break up the fight and shove the two apart to take a breather—and while they’re recollecting their dignity, he starts chatting it up with you like he’d been waiting all this time to let the other two guys eliminate themselves as worthy candidates.

and like,,, don’t get me started on the bedroom dynamic either. im gonna though sorry 🤷‍♀️

oh soldier boy is SO MEAN. SO primal. so. fucking. rough. like shoving your head into the sheet rough, vice grip on your neck rough, and spanking you until you’re as red as the fucking commie flag he despises. that man is ALL about establishing control and revelling in the way you fall apart under his touch. manhandling more like. it inflates his dick as much as his ego to hear you plead for things you shouldn’t want—everything that he can give you. and the mouth on him is FILTHY. he’s calling you that fuckin’ slut, that velvety soft cock-warmer, his little, dirty cum-guzzler with a palate refined just for him. oh, he wants to RUIN you. wants to leave you so internally branded with his touch that you’ll morph into a lock that can’t be accessed by any key other than his. and he’s so. fucking. possessive. not to mention he’s going to see you on top of fucking cloud nine as you’re riding him, and he’s DYING to further raise you to the skies of fucking heaven by making you snort a line from his stomach or some shit. corruption kink most definitely.

meanwhile, beau can barely fathom how you’re enjoying any of it. through the entirety of it all, he’s lowkey giving sb the stank eye for his lack of respect for women—and you, more importantly. And while he knows you’ve fully consented, it doesn’t stop him from checking in with you every now and again—

“still hangin’ in there, darlin’? you let me know if it becomes too much, yeah? i’ll tell this jackass to dial it down.”

and beau, oh my god, he’s the king of checking in. he’s all about making sure you’re constantly comfortable and enjoying yourself—to the point where soldier boy’s making some remark like,

“what’re you—some fuckin’ gimme a c for consent cheerleader? shut the fuck up, grown a damn pair, ‘nd give the woman what she wants.”

and beau’s lugging in the DEEPEST breath of composure with the most disconcerting glare he can muster before recollecting himself and focusing all his attention back to you. his thrusts are gentle, but not weak—he’s hitting all the right spots with each approach and withdrawal. he’s listening to your breathing, the sounds you spew, and constantly reaching to brush the hair from the grip of your sticky face. and he lowers himself to place a kiss to whichever inch of you is most accessible at the time—favouring the curve of your cheek, where it’s easy for him to dip down to your ear and murmur some words of admiration and encouragement. oh he’s such a fucking praiser and words of affirmation guy. and he’s making sure to soothe every bruised part of you that soldier boy leaves behind, almost always sparing the supe a pointed glare that utters some silent claim of and that’s how you treat a lady. he’s littering kisses along your bruises and easing the tender skin with soothing rubs—cradling you and cherishing you like an expensive, one-of-a-kind china.

and then there’s dear, dear dean. this man is WAITING for his time to shine. i can 100% see him not caring for either of the other two men in the room—his attention’s all on you. when sb’s taking you all the way to nasty town, he’s glancing off to some other corner of the room, but can’t help sneaking occasional glances at your visceral, very verbal reactions. and he lowkey digs it. when he’s got his turn to make you feel things, he’s taking it nice and slow—all at your pace. and you know those fucking love-sick eyes he loves casting? yeah, HE’S GIVING YOU THE FULL-PACKAGE SUBBY LOOK. his every grip on your body is intentional—constructed to make you feel like you’re something he absolutely adores and cannot let go of. like a sentimental keepsake he’ll hold close to him for all the years to come. he’s observing every look ghosting across your features, savouring the way you absentmindedly caress him in the midst of your euphoria—revelling in the spell you cast that makes him feel like he’s all yours for the taking. he wants to be. and he shows you it. he’s simultaneously got his hand down under, adding to your stimulation with a skillful dally. and he does it all just to hear the sounds you make—the way you beg for more of him. all of him. and he unequivocally wants to hand himself over to you. his high only comes on after he’s seen yours through. if anything, your undoing spurs him on. and he’s planting tender kisses along your collarbone and jaw and making sure you know just how well you did for him.

“that was. . . freakin’ somethin’, baby. you’re amazing—can’t get enough o’ you. don’t ever wanna, so help me god.”

and you KNOW he’s serious if he whips out the name of the big ol’ guy in the sky.

and then when it comes to aftercare, beau takes the fucking cake—i just know it. in an instant, he’s encouraging you to go and use the bathroom to relieve yourself, making sure you’re physically capable of pulling yourself into a semblance of a functioning human when they’re done with you. and he’s offering you any and all assistance you need before recollecting your clothes and fetching a fresh pair—if any are available. he’s getting you an ice cold glass of water, a little shnaky snack and is ready to give you the cuddle of your life.

dean’s pretty content to monitor you coming down from your high, dragging a gentle palm across your hair while his other hand settles in a gentle frame of your jaw, thumb striking gentle lines across the framework of your face. he’s pretty insistent on short cuddles following the aftermath of everything, going so far as to trap you in a spooning session for a good few minutes before he lets you slip away to the bathroom. and even as you stroll off into the distance, he’s trailing after your every move like a lost puppy that doesn’t know how to utilise his free time. he’s so utterly infatuated with you that he’s got to watch everything you’re doing, and it doesn’t matter what. he’s admittedly not the most forward-thinker when it comes to aftercare, but he’s happy to tend to whatever you need AFTER you bring it up. and he’ll learn it like a routine after a while.

soldier boy does not believe in aftercare. oh my god that man is going to cradle a cigarette with more care than he’s ever shown you once he’s delivered you your high. as soon as he’s blown his load, he’ll let you slump down to the bed if only to admire the absolute glistening puddle he’s reduced you to. and he’s going to wear that smug ass cocky grin—even go so far as to chuckle demeaningly as he drinks the view of you in. he could probably get drunk on that visual alone. and then he’s throwing himself down onto the bed beside you, immediately reaching for that bedside cig. he’ll light it, take a long pull, and offer you a taste. at most, he’ll drape a lazy arm around you, but outside of giving his dick a joyride, you essentially stop existing. he’s good at making you feel used, and he’ll watch you clean yourself up without a second thought of lending a helping hand. he might just say some shit about it that he knows will piss you off because he loves getting a rise out of you.

“what’s with all the pussy-pamperin’? thought you’d marvel at havin’ my baby pumped into you.”

oh he’s such an ass. we love him for it though.

OKAY IM DONE NOW. for now

cheers to @bohemianblasphemy for letting me yap about this dynamic AGESSS ago and now i think it’s time to share a taste of it with the world 😭 YOU’RE EITHER ALL FUCKING WELCOME OR IM SORRY!!! i am SO tempted to turn this into a proper fic SOMEWHERE DOWN THE LINE❗️❗️❗️

i sincerely apologise for the shitty mismatched icons that are lowkey pissing me off but i had zero energy to sift through my pics for ones i haven’t already used and somehow make them match so DEAL WITH IT PLS & THANKS 💪

[patscorner]

PROLOGUE: HIT

pairings: paige x oc

contains: angst

word count: 686

a/n: let's try another shot at this series thing... here we go

JUNE 2020

I dribble the ball between my legs before taking a step back and shooting the ball. It's almost midnight, and the thunder claps should've kept me in bed, but it seems like the last thing I can do is sleep. It's been three weeks.

Azzi already got her acceptance letter to Uconn. We'd applied at the same time, yet hers came almost a month ago, and I'm sitting here empty-handed.

What if they denied me? What if they just forgot to send it, and I don't find out until I'm in the middle of Texas? Sure, it's not common for colleges to scout one school and find what they're looking for. But with us, I feel like they could. It's always been us two- Azzi and I- and even Paige, and although Paige and I aren't speaking, I don't think I'm ready to let that go yet.

I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to let that go.

But here I am, letting them slip through my fingers. Letting her slip from my grasp.

How did I get here? How’d it get like this? It seems like these past few months have been nothing but loss, love, and the bittersweet taste of change.

I’m a great basketball player, I know that. But if any coach was scouting me right now, they’d cross me off the list immediately. The way the basketball clangs off the backboard once more causes me to groan in frustration, throwing my head back. I chase after it, positioning myself at what would be the wing.

Basketball is a mindless game. Something I do well without even thinking about it. The movement of the ball, the way it bounces off the court, the way my wrist flicks when it leaves my hands, the swish of it passing through the net, whatever; the motions are fluid. Subconscious, even. Something I can do with my eyes closed without a second thought. But right now, I'm thinking about everything, including her. And as though I'd summoned her…

“Dude, it's midnight, what the fuck are you doing?” a groggy voice calls. I flinch at the unexpected presence, and turn around to see Paige. She's got her hair down, the blonde locs frizzy from her sleeping position.

The house lights illuminate her hair, the yellowish glow casting a shadow on the cement. Her red plaid pajama pants hang dangerously low on her waist, her Nike Pro boxers peeking above the cotton material. She's wearing a Uconn hoodie because, of course, she is.

I roll my eyes. “Just throwing shots up.” I say, holding the ball on my hip. I could practically hear her eyes roll. “No, no, I can see that, I just mean, why? It's literally about to rain.”

“Why do you care? Why don't you go back to sleep?” I huff, shooting the ball up again.

She scoffs. “I'd actually love to. In fact, I couldn't think of anything better to do-” I wince as the ball bounces off the rim again. “-but when all I can hear is a fucking ball bouncing, it's kinda hard to enjoy slumber.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever, I'll be done soon.” I mutter as the ball bounces towards her, internally sighing as she picks it up. I hold my hands out, motioning for her to give it to me. She doesn't.

“Why can't you sleep?” She asked, her voice sounding genuinely concerned. That's the thing. She's pretty fucking good at that.

I sigh. “Can I just get the ball, bro.” She can't make anything fucking easy.

She smirks. “Nah. Not ‘till you tell me why you're playing basketball in the middle of the night when it's about to storm.” I groan.

Don't let her in again.

“Nevermind, I'm tired anyway. Court's yours, asshole.” I say, shoving past her and stomping into the house.

There's nothing more I've wanted to do than break down in her arms and tell her everything that I'm thinking, and have her hold me and tell me everything's gonna be okay.

But I've already done that.

And I'm not making that mistake again.

=======================

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerrss @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris-deactivated20240 @cosmopretty @hellokittyfeenie @averagelobotomyenjoyer @elliewilliamsthang @chelisbae @angelscovee @st4rrzynight

[wileys-russo]

cheeky little angst to fluff blurb for leah??

leah didn't do her acl in this because i said so insensitive II l.williamson

"-so i'll rest again for a bit in bed, go to breakfast and then i think we have our team walk in a couple hours? oh! then a few of the girls are gonna go for breakfast and to the beach tomorrow before our flights since they're later at night. the beaches here are literally insane babe the water is so blue, i'll make sure to send you some photos. i'm keen for one last taste of summer before returning to the bleak dead cold of the uk." you joked with a smile, your girlfriend humming tiredly in response.

"i'm sorry baby i'm talking too much. are you sure you're okay? you played brilliantly leah really, i was so proud of you." you softly assured, as you had been for the majority of this phone call which was really annoying the blonde more than helping her to feel better as you intended.

both of you away with your respective national teams for international break you'd both been on the phone much as you could, forever attached at the hip you missed the older english girl who held your heart terribly.

however it would appear that your break was going a whole lot better than leah's, australia coming away with an 8-0 win a few days ago and england having just lost 3-2.

your chances of qualifying were looking up whilst hers seemed in a jeopardy she'd not predicted experiencing.

"i'm fine." if you would have picked up on the hidden sharpness of her words you might have caught on and changed topics, however still half asleep you missed it, having been up very early to watch your girlfriends match.

"losses happen lee it doesn't mean you girls have any less chance of qualifying, you've come back from worse yeah? heads held high and leave it in the past, same thing you tell us all each week in red babe." you tried to comfort her only your words had the opposite affect.

with the loss playing heavily on her mind and leah attributing a large portion of the blame toward herself in defence, she felt a bitter bubble of jealousy and frustration begin to build up in her throat. and before she could think any better of it, it came out suddenly like a toxic word vomit.

"yeah well some of us have actual challenges to face to qualify. we can't all get the easy draw and piss poor low ranking teams to smash 8-0, scoring hat tricks against players with half your professional experience and no funding into their programs, can we? the entire olympics qualification system is a fucking joke!" leah snapped, a few of her team mates heads swiveling toward her with a mix of frowns and surprise at her harsh tone.

silence was all that she was met with after her little outburst, you opening and closing your mouth in somewhat a state of shock at the venomous tone from your usually calm mannered and always supportive girlfriend.

"you must be tired and your flights soon. i'll call you later before warm ups?" you asked hopefully, heart hammering in your chest. "no, i'm going into the training centre soon as i get back." leah replied bluntly, clearly not intending to watch your match as you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"right. well i hope you get some rest on your flight then." and with that the line beeped signaling you ended the call, leah shoving her phone into her pocket and resting her chin on the handle of her suitcase she was currently sat on.

"leah mate...that was painful to listen to." georgia winced from beside her, keira humming in agreement. "what? she's being insensative! if she knew me she'd know i fucking hate being coddled and thats all she was doing, as well as flaunting her stupid win." leah muttered with a roll of her eyes.

"is that seriously what you think?" keira questioned, eyebrows knitted together as leah only gave a small shrug. "leah." the younger girl sighed, shaking her head.

"she barely mentioned the win to you when it happened, she spoke about her hat trick maybe once on facetime that night? she stayed in to call you like normal instead of being out for dinner celebrating with her team." keira began to lecture the blonde beside her.

"do ya know what time it is in western australia right now leah?" georgia continued on, eyes wide looking at her phone as again leah only shrugged, though a hint of guilt was just starting to creep in.

"it was 3:30 in the morning there when we kicked off and she watched the entire match and then stayed up for a few hours afterwards to call you, so that she could comfort you and try to make ya feel better." georgia lectured, leahs stern gaze beginning to crack at her words.

"then you just dismissed all of the graft she put in last match and her entire teams hard work down to something they have no control over. doesn't matter who they play leah, they deserved each win." keira continued, leah taking her bottom lip in between her teeth as she sat up and rubbed her face with her hands.

"then she gets up at 3:30 to watch your game and you tell her you aren't bothered to watch hers when its at a more than reasonable time, because you're busy feeling sorry for yourself." georgia added on, yet another blow of guilt for her to swallow.

"did you think it was insensitive when we beat them in the semi final of their home world cup, and you celebrated with your team afterwards?" keira asked with a raised eyebrow.

"nah that was different! i went right to her first to make sure she was okay and tell her how proud of her i was, and she told me to go out afterwards and went out with her own team." leah defended suddenly, shut down by the looks from her best friends either side of her.

"exactly leah, so then how is that any different than her trying to console you after this loss? and then you had to go and open your stupid hot headed mouth, stick your foot in it and probably make her feel like shit before her final international match of the break, which you all but said you wouldn't be watching. how is that fair?" keira delivered the final punch as leah crumpled, head hung in her hands with a small groan.

"yeah alright alright i get it, i've royally fucked up here." leah sighed, standing suddenly and walking off with her phone held to her ear, calling you over and over as each time the phone would ring out only affirming to her that she had really stepped in it this time.

trying you for a fifth time, urged to hurry up from her team mates as their flight was boarding leah's phone vibrated with a message as again you didn't answer.

from; lover girl i need some space please, i'll call you once i land back in london x

with a frustrated sigh leah heart reacted the message not wanting to overstep, locking her phone and hurrying over to keira who was impatiently waiting to board.

she had some serious groveling to do.

~

you opened and scanned through the multiple messages from leah she'd sent while obviously watching the game, withholding the urge to smile at her running commentary and complimentary words about how you and the team played.

still quite frustrated with her and still wanting space you opted not to reply, locking your phone and tucking it under your leg as you rummaged around in your backpack for your airpods.

"you're not gonna call leah?" steph asked with a look of surprise as you settled in beside her on the bus back to the hotel, where as normally you'd sit by yourself to call your girlfriend after each match like clockwork.

"nope." you answered simply, shaking your head and tucking one knee up to your chest. "what's happened?" the older girl sighed knowingly, draping an arm over the back of you as your head came to rest on her shoulder.

through the four seasons you'd played together at arsenal the two of you alongside caitlin and now kyra had become like a family, relishing in the familiar comfort of having your fellow aussies around living in a foreign country where you hardly saw your actual loved ones.

"i think we had an argument? but we didn't exactly argue." you replied, still a little in the dark yourself on what had caused leah's outburst. steph only gave you a confused stare and nodded for you to explain further as you did so, recounting your conversation with the blonde captain this morning.

"ahhh, i see." steph nodded now caught up as you hummed tiredly, the time now nearing eleven at night. "you know she loves you very much. but we both know she hardly has a filter on what she says sometimes, and she's quite potentially the most patriotic person i know both for club and country." steph chuckled, patting your shoulder.

"norf london foreva." you mocked her accent quietly with a small smile, admittedly missing it even more now you knew you'd not be speaking to her for a couple of days while you flew.

"but thats not to dismiss how harsh she was and how that would have made you feel. i think some space is a good idea, gives her some time to reflect on why you're upset and why what she said was wrong. you gonna be okay?" the brunette asked softly as the bus pulled in outside your hotel.

"yeah, i'll be fine. it's been nice being back home and seeing all the girls again, and we're going for brunch and to the beach tomorrow. i'm just focusing on that and the horrendous jetlag we're due for once we touch back down." you groaned, steph agreeing as the two of you filed off the bus.

~

"kyra i promise you, if you so much as breathe near me for the next twenty four hours i am going to murder you." you spoke calmly, stopping to take a deep breath as the younger girl purposefully stepped on the back of your trainer again.

you loved her dearly but it was like having your own child as she'd wound you up for hours now, giving you a brief moment of rest when she'd finally passed out on the plane. but now fully awake and in her usual tiresomely hyperactive mood she'd been kicking the back of your knees out and stepping on the back of your shoes from the moment you stepped off the plane.

"leave her be! honestly mate you're so annoying." caitlin groaned on your behalf, wrangling the girl into a tight headlock and dragging her away from you as the four of you headed out of baggage collection.

"i see your personal chauffeur has arrived." you looked up in confusion as steph elbowed you, spotting leah a hundred or so metres away. "ooo she's off to kiss her little girlfr-" kyra's sarcastic kisses and teasing words were cut short as caitlin suddenly swept her feet out from under her, sending her tumbling to the ground on her ass.

"oi!" with that the two took off chasing one another around the terminal, steph kissing your cheek and telling you to call her if you needed her as she hurried off to sort your friends out, the three of them set to take an uber together.

you watched leah nervously shift her weight from one foot to another as you slowly made your way over, her face partially hidden by the hood drawn over her head. a hoodie which you quickly recognized as one of yours, a faded black australian national team hoodie from years ago.

you also noticed she had a bunch of flowers in one hand which she immediately held out to you. "hi." leah breathed out quietly once you arrived in front of her and had taken the flowers with a mumbled thank you.

"hi." you echoed back, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and shaking your head as she offered to take it from you, the two of you wordlessly making your way out of the airport and to the car park.

you dumped your bag in the boot which she opened and closed for you, sliding into the passenger seat with a tired sigh and carefully placing the flowers on the floor between your feet as leah sat beside you, starting up the car and pulling away.

"can we talk? or do you want some time to like actually sleep and rest, you must be insanely jetlagged. i can stay at beth and viv's place tonight? give you some space." leah offered, the two of you having been living together for well over a year now.

"no it's fine, we can talk." you confirmed, adjusting your position as your head slumped against the window, eyes struggling to stay open which didn't go unnoticed by the blonde beside you.

"are you sure? you look exhausted we can-" "leah i'm sure, we need to talk."

you hadn't mean to come across as bluntly as you did given your jetlag, as you saw surprise flicker across your girlfriends face for a moment before she nodded and you mumbled a quiet apology, rubbing your eyes.

"well i'll start. firstly; i am so incredibly unbelievably sincerely sorry for what i said to you love. i was tired and frustrated with my own performance not that thats any excuse, and selfishly a little jealous of your big win when we lost. which was completely unfair because i am so so proud of you in everything that you do. i promise!" leah started, glancing over at you as she stopped at a red light and you gave her a small smile, nodding for her to continue.

"you put so many hours of extra training in to prepare for the world cup and of course thats payed off and you're finally seeing the benefits. I was bitter and selfish and i lashed out at you when you were just trying to make me feel better, like always, and i am really really sorry baby." leah continued, falling silent after as you assumed she'd finished talking.

"well firstly; you were an asshole." leah winced at that but nodded, understanding her actions were to blame here.

"but i understand you were feeling poorly after a loss, i just wish you'd communicated that with me a little better and i would have left you be with your own thoughts rather than talking your ear off and probably worsening your mood." you sighed, the blonde quick to assure she normally loved you talking her ear off.

"i just felt like i didn't understand what i'd done to cause you to be upset with me, and then you snapped about the qualifying process and you weren't entirely wrong but-"

"i was! i was wrong about that. its been the way they're done for years now and its not anything you or i are ever going to have the influence to change single handedly, and i should have never dismissed the shift you and the girls put in for that win." leah was quick to clarify before apologizing for interrupting you.

"thank you. next time please just communicate with me how you're feeling and what you need lee." you smiled tiredly, your girlfriend reaching for your hand and smiling in relief when you allowed her to take it, the blonde bringing it to her mouth and placing a few tender kisses on your knuckles as she glanced toward you.

"eyes on the road thanks charmer." you smiled tiredly, leah not letting go of your hand but dropping it to rest on the middle console, her other hand expertly maneuvering the steering wheel.

the rest of the ride home was filled with a much more comfortable silence, leah thanking her lucky stars you'd been so forgiving and remanding herself over and over for ever wronging you, smiling softly at you asleep in the seat beside her.

parking in the driveway she flicked the car off, carefully getting out and softly closing her door. she grabbed your bags out of the back and hurried them inside, dropping them in your shared bedroom and rushing back to the car, leaving the front door open.

gently opening your door she caught your body as it slid out having been leant against the door, your eyes shooting open as you inhaled sharply and sat up. "we're home baby." leah advised, affectionately rubbing your flushed cheek with her thumb as she pressed a kiss to your temple.

with a tired nod you allowed her to pull you up and out of the car, walking yourself to the front door and rubbing your eyes. you stretched as you crossed the threshold of your home, squealing as leahs hands poked at the sliver of skin which popped out as your top rode up.

"hello." you latched yourself onto her the moment she closed the front door and turned, your cheek smooshed into her shoulder as her hoodie clad arms wound tightly around you. "i really really missed you." leah sighed, swaying the two of you back and forth as you relished in the familiar warmth of her embrace.

"so i can see, you've become an honorary tillie." you teased, tugging on the sides of the hoodie as your chin moved to rest against her sternum, looking up at her in amusement. "for you my girl? anything." leah promised with a soft smitten smile, leaning down to kiss you.

"leah what is that?" you spotted a piece of cardboard on the kitchen counter over her shoulder, pulling away from her right before her lips met yours causing her to frown.

"welcome home from prison!" you read out the sign with a scoff, leahs arms folding around you from behind as her chin rested on your shoulder and you felt her body vibrate with a quiet laughter.

"thought it might be a bit too soon for the joke to land right without an apology first." leah admitted, pressing a few light kisses to the side of your neck.

"mm yeah good choice. dick!" you shoved her playfully as she continued to cling onto you, spinning you around. "may i have a proper kiss now please?" the blonde pouted, puckering her lips as you smiled, shaking your head.

"well i am all for charity and since you asked so nicely." she pinched your side for the comment, pressing her lips to yours before you could say another word.

the way her lips slotted perfectly with yours would forever make your head spin, sending you into a love drunk haze of dizziness at the euphoric feeling of kissing her. the way her bottom lip would part slightly as her hand flew to the back of your neck, her tongue slipping into your mouth as her thumb rubbed gentle circles just below your ear.

her lips always soft and welcoming, her kisses calculated and thought out, making sure that with every fleeting second you could feel how deeply she cared for you. this kiss in particular was two weeks in the making, the blonde pouring into it every inch of her adoration for you with each slight adjustment and touch, her other hand resting on your waist to draw your body even closer into hers, trapping the two of you in a cocoon of warmth and love and safety.

"welcome home." she pulled away with a light smack, pressing a few softer kisses to your swollen lips before pressing her forehead against yours, closing her eyes and hugging you tightly, anchoring you in her arms like a lost ship coming ashore.

the sea of your relationship wouldn't always be smooth, but with leah at the helm and you loyal by her side the two of you could get through pretty much anything.

"it's two now baby. do you want to sleep for a few hours and then up for dinner? and we can stay up till around maybe ten to try and reset your schedule?" your girlfriend offered sweetly, warm lips pressing against the crown of your temple with each word.

"so long as you're with me i don't mind." you sighed, head falling to her chest as you squeezed her tightly, melting the older girls heart who hugged you back just as firmly.

"well you can't sleep standing up." with that she'd bent down to grab the back of your thighs, hoisting you up. "bed or lounge baby?" the defender asked with a raised eyebrow. "not the first time you've asked me that while i'm off the ground in your arms." you smirked, kissing her nose and grinning as she scrunched it slightly.

"even half asleep with jet lag you remain a cheeky cheeky girl." leah tutted with a shake of her head and carrying you with her over to the sofa, turning around and sitting down as she pulled you to sit between her legs which stretched down its length.

"can you put the golf on please?" you mumbled tiredly, shuffling so your head was resting on leah's chest, hearing her heartbeat beneath your ear as leah smiled happily in surprise at your request. "really?"

"yeah, always sends me to sleep." you continued, closing your eyes as leah rolled hers, carding a hand through your hair but doing as you asked, nails scratching at your scalp and the english captain chuckled seeing within a few short minutes you'd fallen right back to sleep.

desite the fact she actually enjoyed watching the golf much to your horror, a few holes in, she was ashamed to admit she joined you, eyes drifting closed.

[chaifootsteps]

Sorry this is gonna be long. Vivziepop doesn't understand the gravity of sin and hence cannot comprehend the idea of redemption.

It's so obvious Viv has had some bad experiences with the Christian church, but she is also totally unwilling to research the philosophy behind the religion. There are reasons we believe what we believe, and reasons why what we believe gets twisted and used to hurt people, and even reasons why our beliefs in their truest and purest form can STILL hurt people. But regardless of their effects, whether good or bad, there are REASONS those beliefs exist, reasons backed up by literal millennial of theology and historical/academic study.

The idea that her characters don't even understand HOW someone gets into heaven just proves she gave no thought to the other side of the argument. The premise of Hazbin Hotel is that people can change and deserve a chance to be redeemed, but she fails to illustrate any actual change or redemption.

Redemption is predicated on the recognition of what you've done wrong and the desire to do better. It is an internal battle of constant self-examination and dedication to improve. The people that make up her main cast are sinful. Whether or not their sins mean they deserved hell is up to interpretation. I'm not asking her to follow the Catechism of the Catholic church. But if these people are to be redeemed, they have to acknowledge themselves as full of fault.

Husk was a gambler. A gambling addiction is not a fun or quirky hobby. It, like any addiction, is a complete loss of control and subservience to a vice that destroys your life and relationships with other people. Alastor was a cannibal and serial killer, who took the lives of fellow humans and desecrated their remains for his own pleasures, showing a complete lack of respect for the sanctity of life. Angel Dust hurts himself over and over and over again through his addiction to pleasure and narcotics. Sometimes sin doesn't hurt other people as much as it hurts us, but it's still a sin because we are supposed to treat our bodies as temples. These are all massive flaws of the characters, sins that have overtaken their personalities and lives, and yes, they may be interesting and fun and entertaining, but that doesn't change the fact they did bad things.

Vivziepop can't redeem anyone, because she fails to set a standard of righteousness. Sin is just a mutation of virtue. It's taking prudence and turning it into greed. It's taking humility and turning it into self-flagellation. It's taking love and turning it into lust. Because of her, I'm sure, completely valid religious trauma, she fails to recognize the humanity of the people that hurt her. That they too are just people who struggle with their own sin and vice. She can't comprehend or give the benefit of the doubt that religious people have valid explanations for their beliefs.

She seems to think of heaven as just a place of stuck-up hypocrites who don't know how to have fun. She seems to think the rules and regulations of religion are just arbitrary rules someone made up for a power grab and not a detailed and dedicated attempt of humanity to understand God and his desires.

Viv's understanding of redemption is likeability. It's illustrated in Angel's scenes in episode six. Yes, Angel is being nice and kind and caring about people, but his problems were never a lack of caring about people. His problems were using substances to deal with his problems, and yes he did deny the drugs Cherry offered him, but there was no moment of reflection as to why he no longer wanted to take them. It seems more like he wants to make Husk happy with him than he actually wants to form better coping mechanisms or even a recognition that he doesn't need the drugs to numb the pain anymore now that he has a support system.

She seems to think that if a sinner is likeable, they don't deserve eternal damnation. That's why she woobifies every character she grows to like, because being a good person and sin cannot co-exist in her mind. People who are likeable cannot be bad people and thus a system that would put a likeable person in hell is rigged and stupid. But that fails to comprehend the multi-faceted of humanity and sin.

Sometimes people you love, people who are good to you, are bad people to others. Child molesters can be good friends. Rapisits can advocate for animal rights. Murderers can be good parents. A person who abused you could be someone else's best friend, and a genuinely good friend at that. A failure to recognize the complexity of virtue and vice is a failure to understand what redemption means.

She can critique the idea of perfection. She can critique the hypocrisies of the church. She can critique the tenets of religion. She can even say the things I believe in are unfair and nonsensical and evil. But she cannot make a good critique without understanding the other side of the argument. Because without that, she herself has no counter argument!

The plot of Hazbin is no longer that people can be redeemed, but that redemption is not necessary, because the rules that government heaven and hell make no sense. And that's a COMPLETELY different argument to be making.

I apologize for the length. I hope I've made some semblance of sense.

No, no apologies for the length. It was an interesting read!

Some would argue that all religions are nothing but arbitrary rules someone made up for a power grab, but it's true, there's at least supposed to be some kind of rhyme and reason to it all. In theory at least, it's supposed to improve yours and everyone else's quality of life, but that goes against Viv's theory that the only thing that matters is doing whatever you want all the time. Viv doesn't have to side with Heaven or go full blown scripture, but you can't tell me that Heaven doesn't even know what it takes for someone to get in.

Thanks for your thoughts!

[notmorbid]

dead like me, season 1.

dialogue prompts from season one of bryan fuller's dead like me.

i excel at not giving a shit.

a sunny disposition goes a long way in any line of work.

if it's my lunch hour, why is it only 35 minutes?

i know what might cheer you up.

everyone always says the same shit at funerals.

why do you have to be such an asshole?

they're not invisible. you just can't see them.

leave the plastic. cash is king.

isn't stealing from dead people kind of tacky?

i'm sorry, i tuned you out. were you whining?

as childhood traumas go, nothing beats the realization that everything dies. including you.

unhappy people do unhappy things.

you need to leave now. you're making me tired.

souls go bad in all kinds of ways.

all you can ever hope to do is make it easier. that may not seem like a lot, but it is.

i think for me, death was just a wakeup call.

you know what your problem is? you wake up every morning wondering what the world's gonna do for you.

i'm going to say this as politely as possible: i will fuck you up.

i am really trying to respect you. i am. but it's really hard sometimes.

carving my own path seems like way too much work.

just so you know, i'm very prone to anxiety attacks.

most of the time i'm talking out of my ass. i don't know shit.

just smell some fucking roses already.

you know, you can talk to me about stuff. if you want to.

monotony is the mind killer.

what you do now matters. what you don't do matters.

what is an average heart, anyway?

the password's 'rimjob', if you want to get on.

i wish people were more complicated, but they're not.

i don't want my picture taken.

it's very tempting to think the little jewels from our lives will bring it all back. but they won't.

i was dreaming about frogs.

i'm pretty sure they put mind control drugs in the water cooler.

you can't come up with a more original way to act out?

intuitive thinkers are the worst.

people lie all the time. it's not a bad thing.

if a lie is big enough, there's an instinctive need to protect it. it's almost maternal.

i need somebody to give me lessons on how to communicate with you, because i'm at a loss.

i need to be unconscious.

have you ever kept a scrapbook?

the lengths i go to for free food.

you've got a worldly quality. a certain je nai se quoi.

falling's easy, you just fall. jumping requires strength of will.

my face gets sore if i smile too much.

do you have to be such an asshole?

there's a finite number of personalities in the world, and i have met them all.

no wonder your children don't come and visit you.

jesus christ, fella, cut the cord.

you always seem to go a different way than everyone else.

open door's an invitation. gotta jump while the door's open.

why do i keep losing all the things and people that i care about?

when you can't make sense of someone leaving, you try to make sense of what they left behind.

i just don't get our culture's obsession with moving on. what are we afraid of, remembering? being sad?

you want to steal something, don't you?

you want to be a bowling pin your whole life, or would you rather be the ball?

i'm sorry, i'm trying to flirt with you. it's not really my thing.

why are you stalking me?

i could burn you a really great cd, if you want.

your perversions are coming into disturbing focus.

not in that life, not in this one, not ever.

you get close enough to see the pain, and it's no longer funny.

i really liked kissing you.

we all create, in our heads, who we are. who we want others to be.

what fresh hell is this?

just because you're dead doesn't mean you have to give up.

i'm not good at the pet thing.

i don't exactly know where home is, these days.

if you don't know the difference between flipping and flopping, we're knee-deep in water without a paddle.

i'm concerned you don't know what you're asking for.

i think some people wander because that's who they are.

you are a very internal little creature.

is it wrong to decide someone's a great person because they're so much like you?

you want to get coffee? i think that's what you're supposed to say when somebody's having a fucked-up day.

you do know the story, right?

you didn't do anything wrong. i'm just screwed up.

i didn't know that was all the time we'd have.

a girl's got needs, you know. even a dead girl.

i'm sure there's going to be some karmic reward for you down the line.

how's the whole 'dead' thing working out for you?

everybody grieves in a different way.

i could've, should've. didn't.

when you're mourning yourself, closure is a little tricky.

the one death you never get over is your own.

you can go fuck a duck.

i think i'm going to miss you the most.

do you want to do some acid?

i feel that my current reality is altered enough.

traveling alone has a certain magic.

what, did you all get together to vote me off the island?

the world is a very big place, and you are not the center of it.

let's just pretend everything is back to normal.

if you stand too close to a painting, all you see are patches of color. stand too far back, and you're missing all the detail.

haunting is all about envy.

i've always wanted to knock over a liquor store.

people mostly just want to hear themselves talk.

i work better alone.

i love the books that people leave here.

if a tree falls in the forest, who gives a fuck?

you can't smoke in here.

you have no respect for authority, you know that?

this job is really getting in the way of the business of living.

you only have one shot at life. this isn't a dress rehearsal.

i'm sorry i wasn't sweeter.

i'm sorry i didn't show you as much affection as i felt for you. i did love you.

i keep forgetting how young you were.

i love cemeteries. the quiet. the stories on headstones.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Love me or hate me, both are in my favor (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic Rivals AU])

I know y’all I know… I promise from now on, from this chapter this final I will put my priorities on finishing this fic, and the next chapter will be longer. anyways, not proofread. Enjoy once again.

Some villains foreshadowing, cursing maybe (can’t remember tbh), not much tbh.

Word count: 2.1k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 10: What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

—

“How interesting… seems my wall crawling friend here found himself a little girlfriend…”

You both couldn’t see him, but he saw you. Saw the way Spider-Man’s hand so easily found its way to the small of your back, saw how he smiled down at you when his blue and red mask was partly off, the way your eyes gleamed as you looked up at him. Young love.

He couldn’t wait to destroy it, to rip it right out of Spider-Man’s sharp talons.

“Enjoy her while you can Spidey… You won’t have her for long…”

—

Miguel has officially burned whatever unstable bridge he had with you. You won’t talk to him, you won’t go up to him to compare scores anymore, won’t even glance his way anymore. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, he knows he did, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t stuck internally mourning the loss of any good blood between you and his civilian form, officially snapping the last olive branch you had given him.

You wouldn’t talk to him, you wouldn’t stop by his desk anymore, started to take the longer routes to class whenever you would both have to go to the same class just so you weren’t in the same viscosity as him, hell, he’s pretty sure you haven’t even looked at him since. He can’t blame you though no matter how much he wanted to, he brought this upon himself. If he was able to keep his mouth shut, then maybe he would be able to better his chances of turning your silly rivalry into something closer to companionship. Now… his only hope was to be patient, and pray that you would eventually grow enough of a soft spot for him to be able to enter your life once more.

Step one, would be to make you acknowledge him. Even if it’s a small glare or a rolling of the eyes, he’ll take whatever you’ll give him. So he starts of small, a small scrap of paper with the words “I’m sorry, pls stop ignoring me so I won’t feel bad when I crush you on the next quiz”, it was meant as a joke, hoping to garner some sort of reaction out of you, where that be a chuckle or snort or an eyeroll. But you didn’t even open the note up, the second you saw his initials written in his neat handwriting on top of the folded paper, you crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash can before returning to your seat before the teacher began class.

You were stubborn, but so is Miguel, that was one of the many things you both had in common. So he tired again… in the next class he had with you, samething, a small folded slip of paper placed on the top of your desk, only for you to repeat your actions by throwing it away again. But as time passes he gets more persistent, started to leave your favorite candies and flowers on your desk, you knew it was him too, because they’d always be accompanied with his name on something, and despite how much it pains you to throw away perfectly good candy and flowers your need to keep a grudge was larger.

—

“Are you kidding me? How long is it gonna take for him to get the hint…” You whined quietly to Mj, as you picked up the small stuff doggy he had left on your desk this time, he knew you wouldn’t have the heart to toss this. Damn him.

“It’s a bit cute doesn’t you think? He’s like all those guys you read and watch about in those romance novels and movies.” Mj tried to reason with you, a small giggle leaving her lips as she picked it up and examined it. “It’s so cute too…”

“Well lucky you, it’s yours now.” You deadpanned with an eye roll as you sat in your seat, “And that’s different, at least all the guys in the movies and books didn’t drag the girl through the mud and insult them the way he did me.” You added, crossing your arms and turning your nose up in a slightly childish way, not even glancing at said male that you were talking about despite him sitting a few seats over from you, fidgeting with his phone as he pretended not to listen. You didn’t care if he did or not.

Mj just sent you a friendly glare, one that silently says, “don’t you think you're blowing this out of proportion?” You then tilted your head to the side, sending her one back that simply said “no.” she couldn’t help roll her eyes a bit at your dramatic as she gladly takes the stuff husky and placed it her bag, despite now being in basically no contact with your rival, it felt like you were complaining about him increased ten fold. Erasing any progress she and Peter were hoping to get the two of you together.

“So,” She finally drops it, glancing at the clock above the door of the classroom to see how much time she had before having to find her seat. “Are you doing anything after class tonight? Gwen from my French class is having a party at her dorm tonight, wanted to see if you’d come with me.” She asked, hoping to finally get you out and distracted. Frowning slightly white how quickly you shook your head.

“Can’t. I’m gonna be busy tonight.” You quickly answered, pulling out your supplies from your bag, making her groan at the rejection.

“You’ve been ‘busy’ all week, I know you well enough to know you’re probably just watching some random movie in bed.” She retorted, crossing her arms as she lightly glared at you.

“I have an actual thing tonight.” You replied, a smile creeping on your lips as you spoke. Mj raising her brow in suspension.

“A thing?”

“Yeah a thing.” You giggled a bit, feeling your cheeks warm up slightly.

“Okay can you tell me what said ‘thing’ is?” She asked, placing her hands flat on your desk as she leaned in a bit to get a bit closer, you pretended to think about it for a second, letting out a small hmm before finally answering.

“Okay, okay fine. Only since you're my best friend, I’ll tell you.” You said before folding your hands under your chin. “I’ve got… a date, for a lack of better terms.” You admit with a smile, Mj’s eyes widened so big you thought they’d popped out of her eyelids.

“No-no way!” She shout-whispered, going to sit in the empty chair next to her despite it not being her assigned seat. “Wait who!? Is it someone we know? Is it someone at this school?” She asked to which you quickly shook your head too, another smile spreads on your lips as you noticed her face form into one of confusion.

“Nooo, or actually I have no idea where he goes to school.” She scrunched together her brows at the odd answer.

“What do you mean you don’t know what school he goes to? Have you ever met this guy in person before?” You couldn’t help but let out a snort as she goes into ‘mom friend’ mode, her naturally overly protective nature shining through a bit. “Because if this is some, like random guy you met off social media I forbid you going-“

“Oh my goodness, no, no it’s nothing like that.” You shook your head and laughed, trying to explain yourself before she went into a full tirade about stranger danger. “I’ve met him in person, multiple times actually.”

“…Okay, so what’s his name?” You could still hear the slightest bit of suspicion in her tone as she narrowed her eyes at you. Only to watch them narrow more as you shrugged your shoulders, making her let out an over exaggerated sigh. “Is there anything you can tell me about him then? Literally anything.” It’s clear that her patience with you was starting to wear thin from you keeping her in the dark about the supposed guy you were going to see.

With practically perfect timing with the bell, you made a quick movement with both your hands. Middle and ring finger folding flat against your palms as the pointer, index and thumb were stretched out. Her jaw dropped to the floor as the biology teacher told everyone to get to their assigned seats, leaving you free from any more questions from the shocked redhead.

—

“Why can’t we take the subway or something? Do you really need your main mode of transportation to be swinging?” You asked as you placed on a jacket, trying your best to not get cold feet on your plans with the spider despite him already being in your window. “I’ve developed a new fear of heights because of you.” You whined, which wasn’t a complete lie. Especially after the whole Doc Ock situation.

“When have I ever given you a reason to doubt my ability to hold you safely while swinging?” He asked with a head tilt, squatting in your window stool, despite the mask being on your still noticed the way it shifted as he smirked.

“Well… no but-“

“See. You’re safe-“

“That doesn't mean I can’t still be scared though.” You pouted, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you took a step closer to his spot in your window. “This might be second nature to you but it’s not for me, okay Mr.Man.” You retorted, before a small squeal left your lips when he pulled you closer to him once you were in arm’s reach, a smile creeping onto your lips despite your attempt to act annoyed with his actions. The red line where his right eyebrow would be raised up as he hugs your waist.

“Mr.Man?”

“Yeah… you know, Spider-Man. Mr.Man. I-I don’t know, it sounded better in my head.” You huffed, face heating up slightly from embarrassment as he let a snort out before even realizing he did, shaking his head playful as you attempted to explain away the attempt at being sassy. “I don’t know your name yet, okay. Cut me some slack.”

“Okay okay, sorry.” He chuckled, motioning for you to get on the window ledge with him, his grip tightened around your waist to make sure you didn’t fall, your arms wrapping around his neck as he helped slip you out of your window. Shutting it behind you both with a web after he swung you both onto the neighboring rooftop. A small squeal leaving your lips as you cross the distance.

“Where are we going anyways?” You asked, moving some loose strands of hair out from your face as you looked up at the vigilante.

“One of my favorite spots, has a great view of the city.” He told you, patting the side of your hip as a silent command to wrap your legs around his waist for extra security while he swung you both, quickly doing as you’re told, shifting until you were comfortable on his side, arms around his broad shoulders and one ankle hooked under the other to keep your legs around his hips. Once he felt the shuffling stop, he shot one of this neon red web to the top of your dorm building, his free hand that was gripping your waist gave your side a little squeeze, as if to silently warn you he was about to start swinging. “But first I gotta go pick up our dinner.”

—

“Mmm… yeah you're right, these sandwiches are waaay better then the bodega from around the corner of my school.” You admitted in between bits of your sandwich, taking a sip of your drink to help wash the food down. “Too bad it’s all the way across town, that’s too far for me to just get a sandwich. A forty minute subway ride is not worth it.”

“Well, if you're ever in the mood for one, I’ll get you one. It takes me less than half that time to make the trip.” He told you as he readjusted his mask to sit on his nose better, and cleaned some crumbs off the side of his plump lips.

“I’ll have to take you up on that deal sometime.” You joked, wrapping your free arm around your torso in an attempt to gain some more warmth. Even with one of your thicker winter jackets on, it was no match against the cold winds of late fall in the city from up at the top of the Empire State. You had no idea how Spider-Man wasn’t developing hypothermia considering he appeared to only be wearing the blue and red spandex suit. He must have noticed your body begin to tremble slightly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to steal some of his warmth.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @oharasfilipinawife @mxltifxnd0m @loser-alert @homewreckingwreck @dumb-gemini @cowboylikeevie @thedevax @codenameredkrystalmatrix @strawberryjuice9 @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush

[heyclickadee]

Guys, I’m gonna need the fandom to stop being weird about Phee.

Okay, so, first off, I’m not back. I’m still on break; I just logged in to check on the DMs? Made the mistake of checking the tags, and happened to see some real hot takes about Phee’s line about Tech and wrote this out before my better judgment kicked in. Two things:

1. From a narrative perspective, a NARRATIVE perspective, not a character perspective, a narrative perspective, Phee’s line has the exact same function as every other mention of Tech by the characters and visual reference to him through the season so far. We haven’t seen any single character process Tech’s “death.” And by processing Tech’s death, I mean that we haven’t seen a single character come to terms with it the way we, for example, saw Omega and Tech come to terms with Echo’s departure, or the entire ghost crew come to terms with Kanan’s death in Rebels.

In refusing to show us this, the show refuses to allow the audience to internalize Tech’s death as an actual event that has consequences and is expected to stick. In addition to this, the show pokes at us at least once an episode, whether by a single line or by visual cues, to remind us of Tech’s absence. In so doing, the show refuses to allow the audience to fully let Tech go; this only makes sense from a writing perspective if the absence is temporary and the much needed catharsis after an event like the first five minutes of “Plan 99” is going to come from something other than processing the character’s death—something like letting him come back. Phee’s line is just another one of those jabs reminding us that Tech is absent.

(Before anyone comes in here saying that they’re probably mourning Tech off-screen: They probably are. That’s not the point. The point is that there is purpose in what writers choose to emphasize. They have had plenty of opportunity to show us Omega or someone coming to terms with what happened, and plenty of time to do even more than that, because not only are they willing to stop for emotional moments—half the season so far has been Crosshair’s extended emotional moment and catharsis from two seasons of buildup. I’m actually not willing to argue about this at this point.)

2. The way Phee talks here is the way that every character has been talking about Tech the whole season. She’s not unique. The Tech mentions have largely been informative and impersonal—just enough to hurt, not enough to derail a conversation. The emphasis has not been on the loss of him as a person, but instead on his absence and how that makes life difficult. Once again, from a narrative perspective, this is because getting personal with the Tech mentions leads directly into the characters actually processing their loss; and since the show is not allowing that processing to happen since it’s almost definitely bringing him back, the little, slightly impersonal mention once an episode is as far as it can go in bringing Tech up. And since it doesn’t want us to forget about him either, that’s what we end up with. It’s not bad just because Phee did it too now.

3. From a character perspective generally speaking (of the whole cast), the way the mentions work reads to me as ambiguous grief. Remember that Hunter and co. never recovered a body, never really saw any evidence, and don’t really know what happened to Tech in the end. And, speaking from personal experience, not knowing can be emotionally paralyzing and can leave you incapable of processing your loss, because you don’t know if it’s a loss or not. They come across to me as stuck and unable to to anything that we see besides noting that he’s not there. He’s gone, they don’t know where he is; he might be dead, and he might not.

4. And, speaking of Phee specifically: Phee’s mention of Tech wasn’t overtly sad, but neither was Omega’s mention of Tech back in “Shadow’s of Tantiss.” Not everyone cries every time they bring up someone they lost. I don’t. Don’t expect everyone to outwardly react the way you want them too, please.

And, frankly (this IS a hill I will die on) Phee brought Tech up out of nowhere. They weren’t talking about him. She brought him up completely unprompted in an unrelated conversation, meaning he’s on her mind, meaning that, no, she’s not over it.

PS: Do not come into my notes and bring up Fives and the lack of Fives discussion in TBB. I love Fives, I love the domino twins, but Fives was a secondary character on a completely different show with a completely different kind of narrative structure. Not bringing him up in this show is not the same as not allowing the characters or audience to process the happened to Tech.

PPS: I��m sorry if I sound salty in this. I am. This isn’t really directed at anyone I follow or interact with on her, or really anyone who follows me; this is directed at certain parts of the larger fandom that are kind of exhausting.

PPPS: If anyone comes into this post to call me delusional for still thinking Tech is coming back because that’s literally what they’ve set up on screen, they’re getting instablocked.

PPPPS: Don’t @ the cast and crew on Twitter, guys. Just don’t. Think about what they’re doing and what you’re doing, and don’t.

[ivesambrose]

𝕽𝖊𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 🖤🔪⛓️

1. 2. 3.

As promised to the ones who were wronged and I mean it, severely wronged not a 'they were mean to me once' neither a 'I was the problem but I'm gonna pretend they're the villian of the story',

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ mention of bullying, abuse etc

"how badly are they gonna get fucked up after this."

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at jovescorpioreadings@gmail.com

♦️ More pick a cards ♦️ Paid Services ♦️

Thank you for the tip 🌿

Picture 1

They were a bully weren't they?

A self righteous hero in their narrative. Someone who simply, "says it like it is." But the intentions are your downfall rather than just an act of care or 'tough love' making you second guess yourself constantly. Perhaps a gaslighter or even physically violent/would threaten you as well perhaps.

Some of you may have felt like you'll never be able to progress and move forward in your life and your plans. Some of you feel like a machine sometimes trying to prove your worth but it's never enough.

I keep hearing, "I wanna go. I wanna go. I don't belong here this isn't my place."

For you, rest assured you'll boldly venture into the unknown and succeed.

They however,

Can say goodbye to peace and balance in their life and their health. Constantly struggling internally to the point it starts showing on their face. I think some of these individuals peaked at a certain point of their lives (you know the ones who peak in highschool and think they run the show) I see them reminiscing how they looked like before or the attention they got before. I see them feeling stuck in one place and not being able to make progress. If this is someone who would bully you for your physical looks they'll have a severe glow down. If this is someone who cheated on you then they get a taste of their own medicine but worse. In some cases I'm seeing even more severe loss and maybe even trying to make amends with you because suddenly you're more successful or better off without them. I honestly see a lot of regret on their part but some of them may not have the guts to admit the same.

Picture 2

This may have either been a liar or straight up emotionally abusive and controlling. I do sense some of them have been physically or sexually abusive as well. The image I'm getting is someone treating you like their puppet or thinking they have a right over you.

Some of you may have felt or believed that you can't do better than this neither deserve better than this. They made your question your very worth and reality and you often took pity or emphatized and continued to forgive and go back to them.

I'm also seeing for some, that this could be someone who keeps you around for their convinience like you're their emotional crutch.

For you, there are is a light at the end of the tunnel you've walked out of.

For them,

Literal unseen disruptions that shake the very core of their ego, stability and power. Maybe even their career declining to nothing. Legal troubles as well and finding out that those they have trusted or considered their friends don't really care about them either. For someone so selfish and constantly stuck in their narcissistic victim mindset this would be a heavy blow and all I see them doing is throw a child like tantrum.

Picture 3

I believe you attract jealousy, envy, stalkers and maybe even people who need to match the effort you put for them but find an excuse to slack.

I believe that you are aware of your power, this awareness has come after years of being shunned, talked down on and made fun of.

You may have a list of people adding up (it's giving Kill Bill) who have literally just put you down, taken you for granted, betrayed you and it's all piled up almost because I do see a lot of you are rather forgiving or try to understand the other person.

Oftentimes you can care less because you know if someone does you wrong in any shape or form and it's unwarranted then may God help them.

I don't feel you actively seek vengeance.

You seem like a creative soul, perhaps you channel your pain into art or other things that can benefit you or others. But scars in your heart remain.

For you, I see recognition, fun and good money/stability in life.

For those who have wronged you or wish you harm,

Anxiety, the kind that feels like they are in the middle of a circus show and someone asked them to do the sword swallowing trick at gunpoint. Financial loss, having people backstab them or abandon them.

On a more personal note I see that you get the last laugh in this situation.

Few of you could also be witches? A handful of you I'm seeing. So your words could literally be hexes.

[tamamita]

I think part of the issue that people dont understand is that under the conditions that the Palestinian people have been put under for the past 80+ years there really is no hope for things getting better and since a majority of the population of Gaza is young they see it (rightfully so) as either simply dying or joining Hamas (regardless of their opinion on the actions of the organization as a whole) and at least dying while fighting for a better future for Palestinians. Groups like Hamas only form in conditions where people are pushed to their absolute brink and come to the conclusion that dying fighting is a more respectable death than simply dying in silence. (im sure my perspective as a westerner is limited tho so im sorry for any misconceptions i have)

It's a western centric notion, because they assume that the Palestinians must abide by peaceful means if they want material improvements, the reality of the issue is that all of this is imposed by Israel, not Hamas. Hamas is a reaction to the oppression of Palestine and the Palestinians.

For example, the occupation of water:

(source)

It's intentional, Israel has done everything in order to deprave and dehumanize Palestinians by breaking international laws over and over again, and then pitch the blame upon Hamas when Hamas hits back. Democracy is not gonna help with eleviating the material loss, because Israel is in full power and has been for the past 75 years. Israel only wants Palestinian elections to favour their policies, that's why Palestinians grew disillusioned with the PLO when the Oslo Accords failed. Together with its allies, Israel wishes for the Palestinians to concede their dignity and submit to their laws and policies in return for a few material benefits. Israel is effectively blackmailing the Palestinian people.

[gauntletqueen]

the italian boxer isn't a cop, isn't 100% white, and was crying because of her dead dad. she's come out in support of the other boxer people are using her as a weapon against to be racist. the way the olympics and the media is treating both boxers is really fucked up, i do not think the italian woman did anything wrong, she's just a useful tool of oppression people are utilizing against her will

Okay you're part right, part wrong. I've done some more looking into it and I'm glad I did cause it's Nuanced~ Not here to prove you wrong, just gonna list it all out clearly so we can all understand the situation better.

I haven't personally seen any racism coming into the controversy so I don't understand why you're bringing that up, or that Angela Carini isn't fully white. The most I can see is a few mentions of Italian politicians using the situation to try and earn some brownie points by standing behind Angela Carini, but even then they're also latching onto the narrative that Imane Khelif had an unfair advantage, due to her being transgender. She isn't, btw. She's a cis woman,another case of transphobes jumping at any opportunity to try to push their bullshit, even when the target isn't trans, and nobody had even accused them of being trans before that point.

While I can't find definitive proof that Angela herself is a cop, she was raised by cops and is a member of the boxing division of one of Italy's police forces. I can't figure out if that means that she is also an actual cop but that's probably where the assumption comes from.

"she was crying because of her dead dad" is true, but oversimplifying it. Specifically, she's said that her brother and late father were boxers before her, and taught her the sport. She wanted to honor them in the olympics, but the tension, stress and expectations got too much for her in the match against Imane, who it seems fought much harder than Angela was used to. This caused her to have an emotional breakdown. That's all extremely reasonable honestly I can't imagine having to handle to pressure of representing your country At The Olympics, especially not when there are also such big personal stakes. Supposedly she was cited as shouting "it's not fair!" as she left the ring. This is what got transphobes like JK Rowling and Musk to co-opt the story into their bigotted narrative that Imane must be transgender, as transphobic women in the past have blamed their losses on the fact that a transgender woman Was Involved.

It's likely that they might also have used Imane's disqualification from participating in the 2023 IBA Women's World Boxing championship. The organization had declared her testosterone levels to be too high, which supposedly "proved they had XY chromosomes". Since then, the International Olympic Committee has removed the IBA as the organizers of boxing at the olympics due to "continuing irregularity issues in the areas of finance, governance, ethics, refereeing, and judging" So. Perhaps they are a bad judge of chromosomes. Because again, Imane is a cis woman.

Anyway. Angela has stated (translation taken from Wikipedia, the original italian article is behind a paywall) "I want to apologize to her and everyone else. I was angry because my Olympics had gone up in smoke. I don't have anything against Khelif. If I were to meet her again, I would embrace her"

So yeah, she's done nothing wrong, she just cracked under immense pressure, and might be a cop or cop-sympathetic, but that doesn't seem to really have anything to do with the situation. The important thing is that rightwing bigots jumped at the chance to make her a martyr against her will, as you said.

[incorrect-kidge-quotes]

YouTube Music Wrapped Writing Challenge

Song #23 – Too Late For You, by TheManBeHisLa (ft. Mcgwire)

So, I initially was going for angst, but the story ended up dictating itself to be more tragedy. I unfortunately had no control over this and had to abide by the stories wishes. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Voltron flew to the ship from the surface of Naxzela as fast as it’s thrusters allowed.

“Thrusters are at max power!” Lance called out.

“I sure hope we make it in time…” responded Hunk.

Come on, Katie… think! There has to be something you can do, if we don’t hurry there’s no way to stop the planet from exploding, and there is no way Keith or the Coalition will be able to hold Haggar off for long! Pidge thought, internally screaming at herself to come up with a solution.

“Follow my lead, we have to break through that shield!” she heard Keith shout over the intercoms before groaning in pain.

“We’re not gonna make it!” Lance shouted, panicking. There has to be something I can do… I can overclock the thrusters I- I can…

“We’ll never penetrate those shields!” Matt said over the comms.

“… Not with our weapons…” she heard Keith say, barely more than a whisper.

“Wait, Keith, what are you doing?!” Matt asked.

‘Not with our weapons’? What’s that supposed to mean. No- “Keith you can’t!”

“Sorry Katie… You guys, stop the Galra. End this war. I’ve missed you all, I’ll- I’ll keep missing you.” Keith told them before shutting off his communications and putting his thrusters into full power.

Pidge watched as Voltron neared just close enough to see the remnants of the explosion dissipate as the shield shut down. “Keith!!” Everyone, including her brother could be heard before a purple laser burst through Haggar’s superweapon, completely destroying it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m sorry for the loss of your comrade, truly. I tried to make it in time… I was merely- too late to be of any help for you.” Lotor old them all as the group, Matt, and he sat in the Castle hangar.

“Like quiznack! You probably just wanted to make sure another opponent was off the board before coming in at the last second for your own plans!” Lance shouted, getting in Lotor’s face.

No one noticed her, the girl normally so curious and talkative was completely silent. Unable to get out a word. No one, except her brother and Shiro.

“Pidge… Katie?” Matt said, turning to his sister, this finally drew the attention of the other paladins and Lotor.

“I should have done something… the thought crossed my mind- bypass the engines to overclock the thrusters, deal with the burnout and repair them later- I could’ve done something. I could’ve done anything, I- I-” she couldn’t help it anymore, she dropped to the ground. Hyperventilating. Unable to breathe.

“Sh-shiro, you came back! You were gone, we thought you died! How’d you come back?!”

“I don’t know, Pidge. I was in the Black Lion, but I don’t remember, like I said.” Shiro mumbled out.

“No, no, no, no… he was supposed to come back to us. He was supposed to be with the Blades, get his answers and come back to us. He was going to share everything he found out with me!” She screamed before burying her head into Matt’s chest.

Matt looked up at Shiro, asking his old friend only one question, “Were they-?”

“They were close, but- but I never knew it was like this.”

“You bastard… you were supposed to come back to me.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@flannelfangirl Like I said, I initially meant to meet your angst with my own, however, the keyboard had it own ideas

A/N: This song itself is fairly more upbeat in tone, I however simply the title as inspiration for this snippet

[petz5]

You’re like the only account that I care about Ranma takes, thoughts on new Ranma anime?

Sorry for responding late but so far I really really like it!! I WAS nervous (and still sorta am) abt the pacing bc like..... How do you take 20 episodes (technically 21 but i didnt count the clip show) and make it 12... but so far it's done a good job of not cutting down anything significant enough to really hinder my enjoyment

I will say I am extremely frustrated w the state of the tv industry as a whole because as gorgeous as the remake is i DO like that the original was allowed to breathe. I know people go "but there was so much filler!!!" but i think its important to remember it was being made concurrently with the manga and you really HAVE to create filler if you catch up... but I also don't dislike filler episodes as a concept nor do i dislike the vast majority of the ranma ones or feel they're wildly ooc 🤷 i don't consider them "noncanon" (outside of the stupid ova where soun has illegitimate kids) i just think of them as events that occur between chapters. Sorry i didn't mean to go on a filler rant THE POINT IS I HATE THE 12 EP SEASON MODEL W ALL MY HEART. It works for short series and it would work okay for longer ones....if and only if there was a guarantee that it would get picked up for several more seasons

My fear is it'll either be a second incomplete anime or get the urusei yatsura allstars treatment of having the middle pretty much gutted just for the sake of being able to reach the end. I don't give a shit about seeing saffron if you aren't going to take the time to make akane's sacrifice really mean anything to the viewer. You know? Part of why it's such an effective gutpunch in the manga is because you're sort of in ranma's shoes- she has been there right from the beginning, you expect her to be present and involved, and you just assume she's always going to be there. When that's ripped away it definitely hurts to see how much it affects ranma, but it's also a loss for the viewer because, love her or hate her, you've spent SO many hours with this character by that point. I worry if you just.... take out huge chunks of the middle it won't have the same impact. I know it's a long series, but idk I kinda think if you don't spend the time then her death is more "oh no :( thats sad" in a way thats still real like mufasa or bambi's mom, but not the same as idk...... jack in titanic?

Also i'm torn on the line from akane in the second ep being changed where she's saying she doesn't want people thinking she's a pervert for being engaged to a girl to "i don't want people thinking i'm a perv who walks in on people when they're taking a bath" like.... obv i'm not mad they're trying to tone down the homophobia, and i don't have any faith a modern audience would understand that she has internalized homophobia she needs to work through- or that people in the 80s/90s were flat out saying aids was divine punishment so you probably didn't wanna advertise that you're lgbt... i totally understand the change and don't have a real problem w it but also i do think having to come to terms w the fact she's attracted to ranma regardless of the curse, if not (at least initially) BECAUSE of it, is a big part of her character development and i'm curious how an akane more relaxed from the start about being wlw is gonna feel

[crimeronan]

wait say more about how u use tarot to make ur OCs

oh sure!!

you can basically customize whatever spread you want to whatever project you're working on. i also sometimes use tarot for solving plot tangles or inspiring new plot points.

essentially you make a tarot spread like you're asking introspective questions or questions about the future -- but you're asking questions about a character instead.

then you can write down the results and interpret them based on the card's various potential meanings. tarot is all about using vague concepts to clarify your internal thoughts and feelings, it translates REALLY WELL to writing fiction.

i just pulled out my novel planning notebook and am thrilled to report that i have Pages And Pages of tarot spreads & interpretations in here. not just sol ruby devin and nova's original spreads, but also spreads about their relationships to each other, the environment surrounding them, etc

i'm not gonna transcribe my entire reading and interpretation for all four of the main quartet. i Will say that i pulled nova's cards first, said "these are all so well-adjusted and boring," and then rafi said "but what if she's the antagonist," and...... the rest is history.

this is the spread i used:

core self (one card to return to for their personality or archetype)

childhood (what most impacted how they grew up)

parents (relationship with parents)

education (background in school, study, etc)

friendships (either an important friend or generally how this person does friendships)

sex/sexuality (their relationship to sex and romance, if any)

goal (their overarching narrative goal)

fatal flaw (what will be their downfall)

work (career, attitude toward work, etc)

mental health (is it bad)

how far they'll go (what will they do to achieve the goal in #7)

fear (their biggest fears & how they manifest)

strength (a core character strength of theirs)

the core cards for each member of the quartet are

nova - the star

sol - queen of pentacles

ruby - queen of cups

devin - strength

and again, not gonna post the whole spreads, but. if you do something this involved, you'll find that certain bits will stick out Much more than others. i did these spreads in 2019 and would say a solid 80% of the cards are STILL relevant four years later in 2023. even as the project itself has undergone multiple scrapped drafts and revisions and plot changes.

some example highlights would be:

nova is my main antagonist. her spread is littered with stability, growth, reward, responsibility, opportunities, wishes, potential, dreams, whatever. her fatal flaw is the ace of wands, the fire card, a sign of creativity and passion. her parents are represented by the tower, the most chaotic and destructive card in the deck.

so here we have a woman born and groomed into enormous power by incredibly questionable forces, who has been raised not to care about the destruction surrounding her, and who has lived an Extremely Charmed life. uh oh!

sol's childhood is the seven of swords - betrayal, deception, loss. her friendships are the three of swords - disappointment, heartbreak. her strength is the five of swords - conflict, dishonesty, intimidation, lack of reflection. her fear is the magician - resourcefulness, willpower, desire, manifestation.

and. well. that's my antihero bitch. she sucks so bad. god bless

ruby's spread is much kinder by comparison. a calm childhood with happy parents, friendships and sexual relationships that are focused on partnership. her goal is justice. self-explanatory. her mental health is the four of swords - the exhaustion card. her fatal flaw is the two of wands - plans, anticipation, restlessness, lack of contentment.

so here's this woman who loves so much and so deeply and cares so much about so many things..... and has trapped herself inside a life that makes her fundamentally unhappy. because she can't walk away

devin's fear is the five of pentacles, a card that represents loss. often called The Breakup Card. it can also mean a loss of faith. their mental health is the ten of wands - burdens, responsibility, obligation, burnout. their goal is the knight of swords - ambition, battle, assertion, big changes.

so here you have an exhausted chronically ill mess who's standing alone because they're the only person who can do so, fatally loyal to their loved ones & burning with quiet rage n a desire to rip down the entire system.

like i said, you can customize any spread for any character or relationship. you just wanna ask broad questions about what that character or relationship looks like, and then interpret the cards in whatever way is most inspiring to you! i consider tarot a tool for creativity rather than an end-all be-all of fiction plotting.... take what you like, leave what you don't.

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

Unsinkable

Chapter 37: Dearly Beloved

Words: 7231

Author’s Note: Ao3 keeps going down and up and down again, so I’m gonna try get back into the habit of cross posting there and here.

Reblogs and comments always appreciated!

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Din had a knack for fixing things.

It didn’t seem like much more than a quirk at first. Then, gradually, his mechanical aptitude clarified and his buir was quick to give him work that could sculpt his raw talent into honed skill. Sometimes Din wondered if that didn’t factor into his guardian’s decision to purchase the Razor Crest in the first place—it provided no end of opportunities to learn with its dilapidated state to begin with and near constant need of upkeep and repair thereafter.

But starships were not the only things Din was good at maintaining and fixing.

Appliances, furniture, gear, weapons, even clothing and flesh—he was adept at putting things back together, keeping them going, getting more mileage out of them than was advertised. He stored up every scrap of knowledge about different materials, from wood to metal to canvas to skin, learning their strengths and weaknesses. He was no medic, but he could tend a variety of wounds and ailments; he hadn’t apprenticed at the forge, but he had learned to repair most of his armour by himself, especially the fine tech in his helmet. 

These skills came in handy in his line of work. In bounty hunting, self-reliance and improvisation were as vital as his very senses, and many a road could be opened and much could be gained—intel, assets, assistance—through the promise and deliverance of repaired goods.

One of his fellow trainees in the Fighting Corps. once told him he just couldn’t leave things alone.

Until then, Din had never linked his mechanical prowess to some kind of compulsion, but once the link was drawn for him, he couldn’t unsee it. 

Because his peer was not wrong.

He couldn’t handle broken things.

He remembered and suddenly understood the meltdowns he had had as a small child when something as insignificant as a ceramic dish fell and shattered. The only distress his elders experienced in the whole incident was in regards to the sharp-edged shards scattered on the kitchen floor, but child Din was overwhelmed by the fracturing and thus the loss of this thing which, simple though it was, he regarded as a constant, reliable feature.

As he grew and more things broke, things far more important than dinner plates, he learned to accept that decay and breakage was just a part of life. Clothing frayed and even flesh eventually wore out—not everything could be repaired, replenished or restored.

Entropy was one of the most rigid, unyielding, unavoidable constants of the universe.

It was a law Din had no choice but to accept

That didn’t mean he made his peace with it.

He resisted in ways people didn’t always see.

He held onto the Razor Crest for decades, highlighting its vintage as an asset, which it was, but every day the pre-Empire model’s cons outweighed the pros. The powerlines kept leaking, he couldn’t use the internal heating system much for fear it would overload the batteries, and he was acutely aware his travel time was slowing as the hyperdrive incrementally gave up the ghost. But it was the last tangible tie to his buir, it was the only home he had any true claim on, it was his, so he fixed it over and over again and held on.

He kept his training armour for decades, partly because he understood the tribe’s supply of beskar was limited, partly because he couldn’t stomach the thought of changing it, of wearing anything else. He was the armour; to change it was tantamount to reconstructing and altering his entire visage and identity.

He stayed in situations like his affiliation with Ran’s Crew well past the point it had grown dangerous, insufficient, and unequal because he couldn’t see over the mountain that was changing circumstances.

He withheld from starting a clan of his own because that was one thing which, if it ever were to break, he knew he would not survive.

Eventually, though, he did get a new ship (because no one could even dream of repairing the pile of ash the Razor Crest was ultimately reduced to).

He donned a new set of armour (because the old set finally buckled in the mudhorn’s relentless assault).

He left Ran’s Crew (because they had all crossed one too many lines with each other, the thin ties keeping them together at last fraying and snapping and violently freeing him).

And he started a clan (haphazardly and clumsily; much of it happened without his realizing and despite his inadequacy, despite his nearly fumbling it over and over again, a family had formed around him).

All his years maintaining old things impressed upon him the value of things in a way he wouldn’t have been able to grasp as a younger, more invincible man. He would take care of his new armour and his new ship better now than if they had been easily received replacements.

All his years dancing around difficult personalities and keeping together a spiderweb of good relations with people whose honour only went as far as their own comfort had equipped him with a fine toolkit of skills such as negotiation, deal-making, discernment, and the wisdom needed to decide when to compromise, how far to concede, and how to make someone think you’re agreeing with them when, really, you’re planning something else entirely.

All his years alone made him appreciate the crew, the friends and the family that he had now.

He had a knack for fixing things.

He couldn’t handle when things broke.

He had a tendency to hold onto things until they were too broken to hold any longer.

A lot of things were broken now.

And he couldn’t fix them…

. . . . .

It felt wrong to call Ezra’s cabin a sickroom but that was what it had become.

A thick medicinal stench hung in the air, burning the nose, coating the throat. It came from necessary things—things that sterilized, things that helped with bleeding and breathing—but still it was obtrusive and overwhelming, consistent inhalation rendering one light-headed and nauseous.

There were no monitors or respirators beeping or clicking, there was just a single IV of saline taped above the bunk: a crude setup for an even cruder substitute for blood volumnizers, antibiotics and bacta.

And there was, of course, the patient, laid out and still on the bed, deeply, unnaturally unconscious.

Din didn’t count the time but a good few hours had passed since he took up his vigil. He hadn’t spent it all alone or all awake—the day and the draining, oppressive atmosphere caught up to him and he found himself slipping his helmet off and resting his head on his arms folded on the edge of the bed, fingers latching onto his brother’s cold hand. 

It was no restorative rest, however.

His mind replayed the day’s events, twisting the endings, dragging him down dead-end roads where the worst happened with such graphic intensity that he believed it.

He believed Bane and Kryze had slaughtered everyone.

That false reality couldn’t have lasted longer than a handful of seconds but dreams had an uncanny way of stretching out into years in just the span of a few, erratic heartbeats.

He woke to sweat on his brow, stutters in his chest, and a hand weakly trying to squeeze his hand in return.

Ezra.

He was awake.

He was alive.

And if he was alive, then that meant everyone else was alive.

(They were. Of course they were; the very fact they were here, in this cabin, on board the Path Finder was proof they were all alive.)

No thought went into it, Din just locked his hands around his brother’s like a child trying to hold onto something everyone kept trying to take away from him.

The running lights and the bunk lamp provided a soft light, sufficient to see Ezra’s heavy eyes struggling to open and stay open. For a long moment, he seemed to drift back asleep but then he blinked and focussed sharply on Din.

He frowned, the expression barely forming. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice so hoarse and quiet, if it weren’t for the miracle of Kia’s hearing aids, Din wouldn’t have heard a thing.

He gave a nod then shook his head, not to change his answer but to flick the matter aside like an annoying bug that had flown in uninvited.

Whatever he was feeling didn’t matter; Ezra was the one dealing with a grievous injury.

Din didn’t think he’d ever forget the moment Izara emerged from Ezra’s cabin.

He was keeping busy tending to the others, finding and distributing blankets, making sweet-spice tea and helping Ursa put together a meal that could stretch to fill at least some part of almost thirty stomachs. He was well and distracted when he saw Izara making her way towards him.

It was difficult to hear her over the sight of her white armour smeared and stained with so much red—too much red—but from somewhere else, somewhere faraway, he did hear her.

Up until then, Din didn’t know Bane had used a slugthrower—that brutal, antique weapon only a fool would think was any less effective than an energy blaster. 

The unfortunate truth was that it was far more effective.

Standard blaster bolts made clean, precise wounds, typically easy to tend, largely non-fatal. They were more likely to slow an opponent rather than eliminate them; you had to hit something vital in order to kill with a blaster bolt—stun rounds tended to be more efficient. Most bounty hunters modified their blasters to be more deadly but even then they weren’t as bad as slugthrowers. The bullet from a slugthrower could kill even if it didn’t hit heart or brain or any critical veins because the damage it dealt and the blood it drew would so often be too much for a body to recover from.

It was for that very reason they were outlawed all the way back in the days of the Old Republic. Even under the Empire, Stormtroopers and local police forces in the Core and Inner Rim Worlds could only carry standard blasters.

But, of course, just because a thing was illegal didn't mean it didn’t still happen or that it disappeared entirely.

Din could attest to the truth of that.

He had taken a few slugs in his time, the most memorable occasion being the run-in with Vane on Nevarro. Intimately, he knew just how unlike blaster bolts they were.

A slug was bad enough but Ezra had, inadvertently, made it worse by trying to block the shot with his lightsaber. Rather than deflect the bullet, the lazer blade had melted it into burning shrapnel.

In short, the resulting wound was neither clean nor simple.

Izara and Sloan had worked long and hard but they could only offer a grim prognosis.

Grogu, dutifully, had refused to accept it.

He marched into his mentor’s cabin, his father following numbly. 

He had seen Ezra injured before. When they met, he was dehydrated and half-starved, his hair matted and overgrown, his skin discoloured with a sickly pallor. In a way, this was not as bad: he had started this day healthy and strong and well-groomed so he didn’t have that diminished, deprived appearance, but he was pale and still, his chest barely rising and falling, his midsection swathed in thick, bloodied bandages. Pain wrote hard, tight lines on his face, winding his shoulders taut even in sleep, pulling feaverish sweat from his brow and thin, shallow breaths from tired, struggling lungs.

“We can’t do much more for the pain or the blood loss,” Izara had admitted and here now Din could see the truth of it.

Grogu climbed up onto the bunk. His huge eyes took in the sight of his uncle laying there and, when his ears drooped like limp leaves, Din came back into the moment in a snap.

He realized with a sharp pang of guilt that he should’ve protected the child from this or, at the very least, he should’ve had the forethought to prepare the little one for what he might see.

But Grogu was no ordinary child. 

He had lived longer than Din had and that life had exposed him to this before—this and far, far worse.

It was distressing.

But he had the power to do something about it—now more than ever before.

So he grounded himself and set to work.

Din could only watch.

He didn’t have the Force, he couldn’t guide or instruct or even monitor his son. He could only trust that he knew what he was doing, knew how far to reasonably go and when to stop. He had more cause for reassurance now thanks to Ezra’s training, but it was up to Grogu to either ignore or utilize what he had been taught.

Din couldn’t control anything; he could only hope.

Hope Ezra pulled through.

Hope Grogu didn’t go too far.

Hope that he didn’t end up losing them both.

Grogu spent twice as long healing Ezra than he had healing Din’s blaster burn but when he finished, he didn’t collapse. He looked tired and his little frame sagged but his eyes were still present and his skin wasn’t a single shade paler than it should have been.

Din gathered him in his arms and thanked him. It was two-fold—he was grateful for whatever he had done for his brother, and he was grateful he hadn’t gone too far and hurt himself in the process.

Sabine came in then, to see how Ezra was. She stayed and sat with Din by his brother’s bedside for a while.

They didn’t talk.

But her arm wove around his and her head rested on his shoulder and Din knew then that whatever coldness he thought he detected back in the cockpit was just a figment of his imagination.

They were okay.

As okay as they could be, all things considered.

Quietly, she transferred Grogu from his hold to hers. He snuggled into the crook of her arm and she whispered that it was time for bed. 

A small “love you” spilled on Din’s breath as she stood to go.

He couldn’t stand to leave it unsaid.

Things broke so suddenly in this life, and this day had served to remind him that anything he held could be torn away from him in the blink of an eye.

Without a pause between, Sabine gave him a soft “love you, too.”

And then it was just him, parked in a seat set against his brother’s bed, unable to really do anything.

Izara, Sloan and Grogu had expended their talents, training and expertise, the Path Finder was ferrying them all to safety, but the rest of the healing was up to Ezra.

He was awake now, but not better.

His hand was cold and weak, his focus thin and fleeting.

Still, he managed to forge a spear of a look and hurl it at Din.

Without words, he admonished: Don’t blame yourself for this, Dinar (because this was very much the kind of occasion he would pull out his full name).

Din just looked away.

He was not blaming himself—such a thing implied that he had to justify his involvement in events.

But he didn’t have to manually shift perspectives to angle culpability; he was merely accepting reality, and the reality was that this… this was all his fault.

He stayed too long.

He lured the hunter to his home.

He didn’t want to take his hands back but he had to. He stood and fetched Ezra his water bottle, helped him sit up just enough that he could take a drink, made nothing of the sip he coughed up on him, just wiped what he could away, helped settle him down again and then resumed his seat.

Out in the main cabin, they were singing.

A choir of voices—some rumbling and deep, some lilting and light, all accompanied by a modulator’s particular effect—reverberated through the ship, carrying ancient ballads in Mando’a.

The Songs of the Travellers.

Mournful and low, they slowly, gradually picked up in pitch and pace until they assumed a marching rhythm, like a company of lost and weary soldiers finally finding motivation.

Sabine’s voice was with them, as was Grogu’s wordless but no less enthusiastic contribution.

Din listened to it for a while, absently, then let out a long breath: too much weight to be a mere exhalation, not quite enough in it to make it a sigh.

A short, cut-off grunt pulled his attention back to the bed. Ezra was shifting, trying to get comfortable but not succeeding. He tried to bend and draw his legs up, instinctually seeking to ease the strain on his abdomen.

Din half-stood and hovered, unsure how to help.

Ezra gave up and settled with a thin huff. “I don’t know how to put this eloquently,” he said, having to pause and catch his breath in a panting wheeze before delivering the last line in a heated deadpan: “This sucks.”

“Yeah. I know,” Din commiserated. “Rather take a lightsaber to the leg than a slug to the gut any day.”

As if to confirm the location of his wound, Ezra lifted his head and looked down at himself, his face pulling at the sight of the bloodied bandages wrapped around his middle. He looked like he might comment further but rather just flopped back down, letting the air go without moulding it into words. 

“So how’d we go?” he asked after a while, sounding even more worn out—he likely wasn’t far from falling asleep again.

But Din obliged. 

Purposefully speaking low so as not to excite, he caught him up with what had happened while he was unconscious—how he got to the ship, how the tribe left in a caravan of ships, how they had run Cad Bane off. Ezra asked about Omega and Din told him she had gone ahead of them and taken a group in her ship. He told him they were headed for Lothal and Ezra seemed to relax further then, as if just the prospect of returning to their homeworld was a much needed balm.

“And where are you going from there?” he asked, his voice a wispy thing now.

Din stiffened. “What?” he cut out, aiming to make it sound puzzled, like he hadn’t understood the question, but woefully missing the mark.

Ezra raised an eyebrow and fixed Din with a too knowing look in his eyes before letting his expression slacken as he closed his eyes and rested in the bed. 

“You…” Din began but trailed off. He leaned a little closer, opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. Clamping his mouth shut, he moved further back and regarded Ezra with scrutiny. “You knew,” he concluded, eventually, not really so surprised—this just confirmed his suspicions. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Because. I know you. You always go where you belong.”

He wanted to ask him what he meant by that, sensing he had some grand, all encompassing view of this mess which Din, caught in the eye of the storm as it were, could not gain.

But Ezra didn’t look like he could string many more words together and it felt cruel to force him to try.

So Din let the matter fade from his attention and stayed at his brother’s bedside while he fell back to a deep, uncomfortable sleep.

. . . . .

Lothal welcomed them in like a mother embracing her tired children.

Dusk was just a few short hours away, arraying the sky and fields in the warmest shades of amethyst and gold the world could provide. They had missed the snow by mere weeks, the thick of winter passing in their absence. However, a chill lingered, laced in the air, woven with the faintly herbal scent of the new grass springing from the awakening earth.

They landed near the mountain range, in a place not very far from where Din had parked the Razor Crest the first time he came with Grogu.

(Fate, irony, coincidence, whatever it was called, he heard the ringing. He came here months ago with the goal of finding a Mandalorian, wildly hoping they might be able to lead him to a covert, and here he and that Mandalorian were now, ushering a covert to safety on this world.)

The cave dwellings were just that: hollowed spaces in the mountainous rock spires, carved by nature, honed by hands. Apparently, there were many, many dwellings identical to these scattered all over the planet; the rebels had used some as outposts during the war but they were now regarded as heritage sites, landmarks to be preserved, history to be cherished. Quite often, local travellers came and stayed in or around them on trips with their families, embedding this piece of their story in their children’s memories.

During the Empire’s reign, before the planetary lockdowns choked trade and travel, smugglers and mercenaries liberally used them as camps and hideouts.

Din knew.

He was one of said mercenaries.

At the time, he hadn’t thought or felt much about these abandoned but convenient campsites; now, knowing it was all a part of him, knowing his ancestors had once walked here, he felt both awed and ashamed.

The Marauder and the Kom’rk had already arrived and released their passengers. Fenn, Omega, Ados and roughly half the covert were at work, directing and organizing, helping get a proper camp set up before night swept in.

They were not alone.

As the Path Finder slowed and banked around, Din spotted Ryder’s blue speeder parked in the field nearby. Two others sat beside it: a yellow one he knew belonged to Hera and a white one he didn’t recognize. Focussing on the landing, he couldn’t scan the burgeoning camp for all his friends but he knew they were about.

They landed, settled the ship, and disembarked with some unavoidable procession—such a large gathering of Mandalorians marching out a ship couldn’t help but be a spectacle.

The sight, the occasion, the emotions—his own and others—poured in and made Din’s heart swell.

It had been years since he saw so many Mandalorians outside in the light of natural sun. The circumstances didn’t fade from his mind for a moment but this was nonetheless the reclamation of a fragment of freedom they hadn’t glimpsed since the Great Purge.

For ones like little Ayisa, it was a novel experience.

Din heard her childish voice hitch with a gasp as her mother carried her down the gangplank and sunlight met her skin for what he strongly suspected was the first time in her young life.

Automatically, her eyes scrunched closed but she fought to blink and see this world—all this wide open air, bright coloured sky and endless land—for herself. 

Her awe was an innocent, unbridled kind, but even her elders who had seen a variety of different worlds and landscapes in their time were struck by the sight, pausing and turning their heads to see it all, clicking off the filters in their helmets and breathing in deep, indulging in the warm, dry air so unlike that of buried sewers and damp underground tunnels.

A short distance away, a set of faces familiar to Din and his party made their way over to greet them.

Ryder and Marida, Hera and Kanan, Jacen, little Depa, and Zeb.

Seeing them and their warm, genuine smiles was like sighting the shore after a long, perilous journey. 

But the conspicuous draws the eye sharply, and there was a stranger standing among them.

Din didn’t recognize the young man in cream robes, but he did recognize the Lothali crest displayed on the medallion hanging from his neck. Ryder wore one, too: it, along with his garb, was used to signify a high station or position of authority.

The young man stepped forward and smiled wide like a host greeting honoured guests. He glanced over the arriving group and spread his arms out as if to embrace them all at once, his manner more friendly than grand.

“Su cuy’gar! Welcome to Lothal!” he declared, his pronunciation of the Mando’a greeting near spot-on—he had had practice. “I am Governor Jai Kell. If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Din was about to thank him but another voice—thin and raspy—overtook him.

“Wow. They just be making anyone governor these days—even academy dropouts.”

Kell’s expression shifted to shock but not because of the words, Din discerned. His gaze shot through the outpouring of Mandalorians and latched on Ezra, currently being carried down the gangplank by Pekka. He looked very feeble in the large arms and very pale in the sunlight.

Still, he grinned at his own joke—or, rather, an inside joke, Din surmised as Kell threw his head back and cracked the kind of laugh only old friends could draw out.

“Like you can talk, Dev Morgan,” he retorted, pointedly emphasizing the name (yet another one of his brother’s many aliases, Din assumed). “Who failed the final test again?”

Ezra chuckled and immediately regretted it, his shoulders hunching in sharply, his face twisting in pain.

Just like that, the banter disintegrated and the jovial atmosphere was broken.

Hera handed Depa over to Marida and closed the distance in quick strides, her brow knotted in concern as she brushed Ezra’s hair from his forehead.

“We called the medcentre,” Kanan said, coming and placing a hand on Hera’s shoulder which she took and redirected to Ezra’s shoulder for him. “Chi’s got a bacta tank prepped and waiting for you at the medcentre.”

“This way,” Hera directed Pekka before motioning for him to carry Ezra to her speeder.

Ezra didn’t protest; he didn’t have the strength to.

Din watched but didn’t move as Pekka followed Hera’s guidance and carried Ezra to the yellow speeder. Kanan and Zeb took over from there: Zeb taking the wheel and Kanan sitting with Ezra in the back.

They left, and Din felt like some part of him had been bound in rope and tied to the speeder, tearing out of him as it disappeared in the distance.

Ezra would be okay.

Izara and Sloan had down their best, Grogu had most likely saved his life with whatever amount of healing he had managed to impart, and Din knew firsthand the kind of miracles a bacta tank could work—Ezra could not have a better chance at recovery.

Still, it was hard not to worry, hard not to think of how much worse it could have been and how much worse it could still be…

Feeling like he had stepped outside of himself, Din lapsed into some kind of autopilot.

Ryder and Kell explained what supplies they had managed to procure and gift to the Mandalorian refugees and Hera gave details of how the camp was coming along; though Din heard every word, he retained none of the information. 

The briefing, if that was what it could be called, was swift and everyone returned to work, eager to get as much done before the sun set as possible.

Ursa and Sabine followed Hera to sort something or the other out, Jacen gathered Grogu and Ayisa and herded them to the fields where he was overseeing the play of the rest of the children, keeping them occupied and out of the way so their parents and guardians could work without worry. 

Din was sure he had a job to do as well, but he didn’t know what. The others left and he wound up adrift, a thing torn from his moorings.

He was walking aimlessly around when Marida found him.

“I hope in all your adventuring you haven’t let your cooking skills rust,” she said as she came and took gentle but sure hold of his arm, her accented voice a glint of light in the dark of a storm. 

Without awaiting an answer, she guided him to the cooking area: a sheltered section of the caves equipped with tables and cooking implements and a stone fire pit.

“I should—I should probably…” Din lost what he was trying to say. He nodded to the camp in general, helplessly gesturing, hoping but fearing she wouldn’t understand him.

She cut out a short laugh. “There’s no shortage of strong and willing hands, Dinar,” she told him but then her smile slipped and she covered her mouth as if she had said a bad thing. “I’m sorry. Can I… can I still call you that?” she asked, dropping her voice.

“Of course.” He frowned, struggling to trace her sudden worry. “It’s still my name.”

“Yes, but…” her gaze flicked over him and then darted to the camp, to the gathering of Mandalorians, and he understood.

She wasn’t entirely sure of all the customs of his adopted people and she didn’t want to offend.

“What are we making?” he asked, motioning to the cooking area, redirecting attention, grasping at anything to ignore the knot his insides were becoming.

Thankfully, Marida took the new road with ease. “Flatbread and sweet curry. The curry’s on already; we just need to roll out and fry the flatbread.”

“There’s about a hundred to feed.” He couldn’t help but feel some dismay creep in when he considered the enormity of the task.

“More time for us to catch up,” Marida declared, passing him a dowel.

. . . . .

News of Sabine’s pregnancy had reached Kanan and Hera but it hadn’t leaked any further, their friends discreetly keeping the news for them to share.

After relating the Morak mission and the procurement and subsequent refurbishment of the Path Finder, Din told Marida the news, feeling a twinge of guilt as he did so because he knew he was using it as a diversion to get out of talking about himself.

Nonetheless, her excitement was strong and enlivening, sweeping away any and all negative notions.

She embraced him and then had to go find Sabine and congratulate her herself as well as make sure she wasn’t doing anything too strenuous. 

(Din indulged in a private grin at that—his wife already had their crew and a whole tribe of Mandalorians making sure she didn’t lift anything heavier than a cup of water, now she had yet another maternal figure on her case.)

He watched Marida go and then, for the first time since leaving Kyn-13, he was alone with his own thoughts. They made for poor company, but he had to confront and organize them sometime—when better than while his hands were employed portioning and rolling out equal discs of dough?

Except his mind decided not to think, instead going comfortably quiet and focussing on the task, boxing everything else up—the tribe’s relocation, the target on his back, Ezra’s condition—and shoving it into a corner where he could, for now, forget about them.

He had melted into some strange state of peace when he heard a familiar set of footsteps approaching: the sound of boots scuffing softly but intentionally against the hard packed dirt ground.

He lifted his head, catching a smile when he saw Sabine.

“Tired, cyar’ika?” he asked.

She heaved a sigh. “Tired of hearing: ‘don’t pick that up,’ ‘don’t wear yourself out,’ ‘don’t do this,’ ‘don’t do that.’” She huffed again and shook her head resignedly as she took a seat on a crate. “Apparently, I’m made of porcelain now.”

“They’re just taking care of you,” he said, softly, noting that there were many crates of supplies about that she could have sat upon, yet she chose this one: the one closest to him.

She chuffed and took her helmet off; as she did, he heard little plicks of static from her hair. “It’s a whole tribe of mother hens,” she grumbled but with a note of undeniable affection.

“Have the others arrived?” he asked as he grabbed a handful of dough and began rolling it into a ball between his palms. 

“Paz and his lot came in about an hour ago, and Koska and Riel just reported in, ETA: sometime after sundown.”

He let go of a breath, feeling another length of the wire wrapped around his core unspool.

“That smells so good.” In the corner of his visor, Din caught Sabine’s hand reaching for the mound of dough in the mixing bowl.

“Hey, no.” Gently, he batted her hand away. “That’s not cooked yet; it’s not even rolled out.”

“Oh, come on. Just a little bit? It’s edible.”

“It is edible, but it will make your stomach uncomfortable.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Here.” He twisted around, grabbed a warm, cooked disc of flatbread off the plate, and handed it to her. “You can have that.”

“Acceptable,” she acquiesced, drawing a leg up onto the crate and setting about tearing bits off the flatbread to munch, her eyes still flicking every now and then to the uncooked dough with a desirous gleam.

Cravings, Din thought with an amused smile as he strategically moved the bowl to the other side of him where she couldn’t reach from where she sat. Why the uncooked dough should be more enticing to her than the fried product was beyond him but he was quickly learning not to bother applying logic to these things.

They lapsed into silence for a bit but there was no strain in the air between them, just shared threads of fatigue and worry. There was something like a shield around them here, projected by the cooking fire, lit by the setting sun, infused with the smell of the simmering sweet-curry and the fried flatbread, trimmed with the cooling air and the soft sounds of food prep.

Absently, Din wondered where Marida had gone off to. 

She had left to see Sabine but that was some time ago and Sabine was here now with him. He was just puzzling through that when a building breath broke into his thoughts.

“Omega’s gone to the medcentre,” Sabine told him, her voice dropping a notch.

“Is she alone?”

“AZI’s there. And Hera, Kanan and Zeb are going to take turns keeping vigil. If there’s anything to hear, we’ll hear it.”

Din nodded and swallowed thickly, his throat constricting.

There were two sides to what Sabine told him.

One part was the assurance Ezra would not wake alone or among strangers.

The other part was a kind of warning.

The others—the aruetiise—were leaving. The tribe would have their meal soon and then there would be a meeting and there was much to be addressed.

“Well, this is certainly domestic,” Sabine commented, cleanly steering them to a different track.

“It’s nice,” Din returned, airily, as he continued on, grabbing a handful of dough, rolling it into a ball, flattening it and then rolling it out with the dowel until it was just the right size to fit the pan on the fire. With each turn, he fancied he picked up speed.

Without asking, without awaiting instruction, Sabine came and joined him, silently slipping into his rhythm, becoming a part of it.

For a little while, there was just the work: rolling and frying, the stacks piling steadily higher. 

“I’m lucky I got someone who can cook,” Sabine remarked, randomly.

Din frowned. “You can cook, too. And you cook well; better than me.”

“But I don’t always want to do it alone,” she told him and there was something about her voice, like the shedding of a hard shell, that put him on alert, urging him to listen carefully. “And there’s gonna be times when it’s difficult or I just can’t do it.”

He stilled.

He sensed they weren’t talking about what they were talking about anymore.

Metaphorical was the word for it. Dithering and hesitation worked, too, in a way, though they all ignored the heart of the issue.

He stopped his work and set down his dowel. They had made more than enough, now they were just making sure the last of the dough was used up.

He turned to her, readying himself for a conversation, but she continued working, taking the flatbread to the fire, pointedly keeping her head down.

He just waited.

She always made it clear for him eventually.

“I want to do this with you, Din,” she told him, quietly, little by little her devotion to the task fading until she was just standing there, her hands falling unemployed. She glanced at him but quickly looked away as if burned, eyes screwing shut against emotions he suspected had been brewing for far longer than she let on. “I’ve done enough of my life alone,” she said, her voice low so she could hold it steady. “And I don’t—I don’t want to do this part alone. Okay? I just… I need you. I need you to be there when I can’t put my own socks on anymore. I need you to let me break your hand when I’m in labour and I need you to help me hold my baby because I just know I’m gonna be tired after all that. And—and you have to be there every day after because I can’t do this on my own. I can’t. I’m not as patient as you; I’m gonna mess this up if I don’t have you.”

He reached out, instinct pulling him to draw closer to her, but he froze midway. There was some barrier, a fresh new border he wasn’t allowed to cross freely. It was so strange, like all the space they had inhabited together was suddenly divided and redefined.

He turned back to the food prep but there was just a half a ball of dough left—not enough to make a full flatbread. He rolled it out anyway with as much intention as its predecessors, eking out the task to buy a small moment to collect himself and connect the pieces she was trying to give him.

“You saw the message,” he concluded aloud, setting the dowel down and leaning on the table, his stomach tying into a hard, uncomfortable knot.

In the beat after he spoke, he hoped she might frown and say something like: “What message?” He realized he would still have to explain himself, and that wouldn’t be exactly painless, but at least he would know she had been spared.

But there was no sign of ignorance on her part.

“Not all of it,” she eventually admitted, turning her head and wiping the corners of her eyes with the side of her hand, struggling to take a breath that wouldn’t betray her with a waver or a sniffle. “Chopper said you told him only to play it after you left but you didn’t tell him not to show me just my part.”

Din let his head hang as he sighed, the sound ragged and worn. “I’m gonna kill that droid,” he muttered.

Sabine laughed, and for a moment, he thought maybe she didn’t completely hate him.

He chided himself.

That wasn’t fair.

He knew she didn’t hate him.

If she did, she wouldn’t have come here, strategically orchestrating that it be just the two of them (because Marida would’ve returned unless Sabine asked her for a moment alone with her husband, just the two of them).

If she hated him, she wouldn’t have just poured out her heart, asking him to—

He moved, unthinkingly, and his elbow or something, he didn’t actually track what, bumped the table they had been working on. Things wobbled and rattled but settled without issue.

Except for the one empty plate they had been using to transfer the flatbread to the fire.

It was close to the edge and it had nothing weighting it down. The table jolted and it fell and smashed on the ground, the sound bursting and echoing around the curved stone walls before disappearing into the open night air behind them.

It continued in his ears.

Over and over again, the shattering and scattering of pieces he could never put back together again—not properly, not completely—ricocheted around them.

He stared at the shards at his feet.

He had almost left.

He had almost left her and their children, his family, his clan.

It was to keep her safe, he tried to argue; it was to keep them all safe from Bo-Katan. 

But all the good intentions in the universe couldn’t change the fact that he was still walking out on them.

Sabine began looking for something to sweep up the broken plate and it was reactionary, it was just… the thing people did when plates broke, but the fact that she was just accepting that it was broken and needed to be cleaned up and not in the very least reprimanding him cut him in a way he couldn’t explain.

He was good at fixing things.

He was also good at breaking things.

This was not entropy, nor was it an accident. It was something between a curse and an addiction: he didn’t mean to do it but he couldn’t control it, couldn’t stop.

“Leave it. Please,” he said, his face burning, his mouth drying—the words came out like a strangled plea. He took a step towards her, his boots crunching on the ceramic chips and shards, and caught her hand. “I’ll take care of it,” he assured her.

He couldn’t fix it.

He could only clean it up and make sure no one else got hurt.

For one moment, he hung suspended over a chasm. He held her hand in a way she could slip out of easily, wanting her to come closer but not pulling, not demanding—he never would: forced love was not the kind he had been trained in.

She did take her hand back but it was not to leave, instead, it was so she could wrap her arms around him.

She held on crushingly tight, burying her face in the part of his neck not covered by any armour.

Her words ran through his mind again.

He wanted to confront them. He felt he needed to dismantle those false notions, extinguish the claim that she wasn’t strong enough or good enough to do this on her own. But he caught himself before he could aim and fire a single word.

That looked like the problem but, again, it wasn’t the heart of it. She wasn’t so concerned with her potential inadequacy as she was with the prospect of losing him.

But how could he fix that? 

Platitudes rang hollow and weak; he could say things like it would be alright and everything would be fine and there was nothing to worry about, but he couldn’t ensure such things. He could restate his view of things, underline how much he loathed to leave, but she had heard that already.

So he resorted to the plain, undecorated truth.

“Bo-Katan is not going to stop. I have to sort this out.” 

“I know,” Sabine said, her voice muffled as she spoke mostly into his collar. “I know, just… don’t go alone.”

He moved so he could tuck her head under his chin. “Okay.”

“Promise,” she urged.

He breathed out, closed his eyes, and drew out the strongest words he had ever learned to cement a deal.

“Haat, ijaat, haa’it.”

. . . . .

Notes...

. . . . .

Ezra: Do I even weigh anything to you?

Pekka: Honestly, it’s like holding a bunch of space grapes.

. . . . .

I’m gonna be honest, I meant for this chapter to hold much more plot. I’ve been wanting to pick up the pace a little and get to the action, but at the same time, I don’t want to sacrifice the heart of this story and that is the characters and their arcs and bonds. 

. . . . .

There is very little in the Ahsoka show I can bear to even acknowledge, but Jai Kell being the governor of Lothal is pretty neat, so I’ll keep that.

I do like the idea that after the planet was liberated, Ryder Azadi resumed his role as governor, but it has been over a decade since. Back when I started this story and first brought him in, I was a little on the fence but I felt like he should be retired, I just never gave any thought to who the office would go to and I certainly never thought of Jai Kell.

(And it’s on purpose that I either use his full name or his surname because I went and named Din’s buir Jai all the way back when I hadn’t finished watching Rebels through and didn’t know Jai Kell was gonna come back in the end 😬)

. . . . .

If you’ve watched Rebels, I’m a little bit hoping you catch a parallel here with the end of season 2 where Kanan’s getting ready to go to Malachor and Hera’s struggling with it. It always strikes me that it’s Sabine who clearly notices the problem that draws Kanan’s attention to it. Honestly, it’s one of her most shining moments as a character to me. This is that Sabine, about 13 years later, going through the same thing but from Hera’s position rather than an onlooker.

(And if you have seen the season 2 finale, let me assure you I am not doing *that* okay? Hera basically told Kanan they should go all together but they didn’t and it went bad, so this time, Sabine’s making sure they don’t repeat history)

. . . . .

🎶chapter playlist🎶

On the Other Side — Peter Bradley Adams

The Lighthouse — Written by Wolves

Long Way Home from Here — Matthew Perry Jones

The Last Time I Was Home — The Workday Release

Where We Belong — Thriving Ivory

Save Tonight — Eagle-Eye Cherry

The Last Day on Earth — Kate Miller-Heidke

Cry for Help — Daughtry

Dearly Beloved — Daughtry