#compare that to the spirals my brain goes into when i /don't/ do that and..... yeah

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

tbh will never forgive radfems for appropriating 'why don't you think about why you feel that way :)' as 'do it until you're Fixed and don't feel that way anymore'--especially when often they use it for conversion therapy in particular 🙃--because as a genuine, good faith, open-ended question to guide a toolset of other questions, it has brought me not only a lot of insight but SO much peace in processing things my brain would eat itself over otherwise

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (6)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part summary: she is taken aback as the student becomes the master. wc: 4,3k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content (this part includes masturbation, forced orgasm, a little squirting, female and male oral), graphic details of murder

a/n: SMUT ALERT! If you like sexy stuff then you can just read this, but reading previous parts is better for context :)

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

SPENCER HAD WITNESSED MANY THINGS THAT LEFT HIM IN A STATE OF WONDER. Certain books or poetry. Certain buildings, art, or places. Specific moments that left him in an overwhelming sense of awe. But no amount of experience could prepare him for the view right at this moment. It felt as if he wasn't worthy enough to marvel this splendor sight of a woman.

Was comparing her to a masterpiece of fine art too excessive? Although he couldn't help it, with the way she was sprawled along the couch with knees spread apart, she seemed to be all source of beauty and perfection. His eyes trailed across her glorious body; adorning every curve, every line, and every inch of her skin.

His body ached to touch her, to feel her hot skin underneath his fingertips, yet he wouldn’t dare himself to reach out. This was her moment, he realized. She was laid out in front of him on her own accord, wearing nothing but a coy smile and a certain spark in her eye. Who was he to interrupt a woman basking in her sensuality?

"So, is this some kind of a lesson?" He slowly asked after a moment, his tone provocative and full of meaning as he paused and licked his lips. "If you must know, I'm a very fast learner."

Her eyes were focused on his mouth, those plump lips now glistening slightly from where his tongue had just wet them. "A lesson, a show... you can think of it as anything you want." Then a taunting smile played on her lips. "I only need you to pay attention."

His gaze swept over her wet flesh, flushed and swollen, the slickness glistening from her core made every part of him swell. "You've had my full attention ever since I saw you that night. You're all I think about."

She felt herself crumbling at his confession. Her heart hammered against her chest, the charge behind his words spreading warmth throughout her body that had nothing to do with her arousal. "Don't say things like that, Dr. Reid."

"Why?"

Because I think I could fall for you.

She swallowed the thought away and focused her attention on this moment. Sex. That was what she should be thinking of, not the way her mind was going into a spiral of admiration that had nothing to do with physical attraction. Nothing else should matter when the man sitting a few feet away from her was looking at her as if she was his favorite meal.

"On second thought," she decided to say, her fingers slowly moving across her thigh. "Words are good."

When he didn't respond, she continued, her hand slipping between her legs. "Words can be an additional sense to stimulate the brain that goes beyond—" Her fingers softly pressed onto her clit. "—touch."

"That... is true," he softly agreed, his breathing more shallow as he watched her fingers moving in a circle motion. "The brain is the most receptive erogenous zones in the human body."

"Exactly. Now tell me what you're thinking."

There wasn't a moment of hesitation as he answered, "How beautiful you are."

She couldn't help the genuine smile forming in her mouth. "What else?”

She really was a sight. Chemicals suddenly flood his system, making his head pound and chest restrict, his blood entirely redirecting south. He gulped as she quickened the pace on her clit. "How I want to be the one touching you right now."

"Yeah?" She readjusted her position to spread her legs wider, wanting to give him a better look at her glistening flesh. "Tell me how you would touch me."

He could feel his body tightening with arousal. "With my hand."

She bit on her bottom lip, trying to hold her amused laughter. "I think that's already a given." Then she gently sped up the motion of her fingers, her voice coming out breathless as she whispered, "You can do better than that, Spencer."

There was an intense warmth that spread along his body. Hearing her call out his name as she pleasured herself gave him a certain control of the situation. It honestly felt exhilarating to be the reason of her arousal. He was the one she wanted. He was the one to have the privilege to behold her whimpering in desperation.

He then leaned forward, a new sense of power in his voice. "I want to run my hands all over you. I want to taste you." She hummed a response, eyes locking with his. "I want to see you writhing as I map your body with my tongue."

He noticed how receptive she became to his words, her body squirming as her fingers pressed onto her clit harder. He took it as an encouragement and kept on going.

"I want to put my head between your thighs. I want to be the one sucking on all that wetness." His tongue swiped along his bottom lip as his gaze traveled down the slickness dripping between her legs. "Look at how soaking wet you are, taking pleasure in my voice as you desperately play with yourself."

Y/n believed Spencer was a smart man. She also believed it when he said he was a fast learner, yet actually hearing his erotic suggestion while he watched her so earnestly drove her over the edge. Her other hand slid across her breast, pinching her aroused nipple as she continued the erratic movement of her fingers. Her eyelids dropped at the sensation traveling through her body.

"I want to make you feel good until you can't breathe," she heard him say, his voice growing more strained. "Until you can't see, until you can't think of anything else but the overwhelming pleasure I will give to you."

She whimpered out a desperate sigh. The snarl of pleasure that tore itself from his throat at her desperation was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. This glorious feeling of knowing she craved him, that she needed him as badly as he did was indescribable it gave him more power.

"I want to ruin you in the best way possible."

She inhaled sharply, time standing still for a moment. Her eyes then snapped open, landing on him splaying his hands over his knees. Her insides wrenched. Her chest was heaving as her fingers slowed down while she tried to register the refined yet filthy words coming out of his mouth. "Well, aren't you quite the poet."

She saw him shrug his shoulders with a bashful smile curling on his lips. "I read a lot."

A breathless laugh escaped her mouth. "Of course you do."

Then her eyes skimmed across his face, noticing the way his eyes glazed over her. His gaze was a slow pull, a gentle tug at the edge of her consciousness. It was evident in the way her body responded, her core alight with the fire he had been patiently building, throwing more fuel over it with each second that passed.

"You're so pretty," he gently spoke, raking his eyes along the span of her exposed body. Then he couldn't help himself as the next words slipped out of his mouth without much thought, "Put a finger inside yourself."

She tensed for a slight moment before she relaxed. "Giving me orders now?"

"I want to see how tight you are."

Her breath hitched at his words. There was a moment of silence as she slipped a finger into her entrance, her body quivering at the pressure. She moved it slowly, feeling the slickness of her walls clenching around her finger that she let out a moan.

"Add another finger. I know you can take it," he ordered, almost drooling at the sight in front of him. His gaze roamed her flesh, drinking in her naked body, the line of her neck, the peak of her breasts, the flare of her hips, the way she writhed with the pressure of her fingers, and her moan—god, the noises she made. It grew louder as he told her to go faster, her body quivering when he remarked that she was not fast enough.

"You can do better than that, Y/n."

She let out a loud gasp at the sound of her name, her back arching away from the couch, her eyes instantly locking with his. She felt so light-headed, so hot, so unbelievably wet. She started to come aware of everything. The feeling of her fingers digging into her soft flesh, continuously swirling against her heat, and the way his eyes soaked in her every movement. She could feel the weight of his stare and it was enough to throw her over the edge, her fingers moving at a quicker pace.

"Are you close?"

"Yes," she confirmed, her legs beginning to burn as she felt herself getting closer to the steady rhythm she had created with herself. Small whimpers slipped through her lips as she felt the familiar sensation tightening in the pit of her stomach, her mind already losing focus of her surroundings.

"Stop touching yourself."

His sudden voice pulled her back to reality, eyes narrowing in his direction. Somehow she managed to halt her movement as she watched him slowly rise from his seat, striding across the room with leisured yet determined steps. Then he positioned himself right in front of her, standing above her so that she had to tilt her head upward to see his face.

"I'm a man of my word." He slowly lowered himself, dropping down to his knees. A slow, sinful smile snuck its way along his lips as his hand grazed the satin span of her thigh. "I do want to ruin you."

She made a little noise, halfway between a sigh and a moan as a long finger brushed featherlight over her sex. Her fingers slowly slipped away as her eyes trained on him, watching the way he carefully slid a finger between her wetness, feeling his callused pad swipe along her slick folds. And when she thought she couldn't get more aroused than this, he proved her wrong by closing the distance, his mouth wrapped around her throbbing clit.

He grunted in delight as her slickness dampened his jaw.

"You taste so sweet," he murmured, and she felt the warm gust of his exhale into her heat. It made her walls flex just as his tongue dived inside her. She leaned back and writhed as he eagerly licked between her slit, wrapping his arms around her thighs, holding her in place as he devoured her hot flesh. She faintly looked down at him and found his eyes boring into hers, watching her intently as he wrapped his lips around her sweet spot and sucked every inch of her like a man starved.

She closed her eyes, her fingers tangling in his thick, untamed hair as she felt another wave of pleasure hit her. His tongue was pressed flat up against her, lapping at her eagerly before moving to twirl around her clit deliciously. She could feel her high approaching, thighs already trembling and he found that to be the perfect time to pull her in closer by the thighs, wrapping his arms securely around them to bring her core closer to his face.

Feeling her body shake, he wasted no time, tongue furiously licking against her and sliding the muscle in and out easily. His growl rumbled against her wetness as she spasmed, her face a mess of sweat and tears as he lapped up her folds, his tongue sliding into her and pressing on the walls. It didn't take long for her to moan out his name as the sensation struck her body, his hands firmly supported her convulsing body over his tongue to help ride out her high.

She pulled onto his hair with both of her hands, moving her hips against his face as he continued to groan and lick her through her climax. Utterly dazed and covered in a sheen of sweat with a pleasant tingling sensation traveling throughout her body, she watched as he slowly straightened himself, grabbing onto her arm and pulling her into a sitting position.

Then he didn't wait anymore longer as he buried his face in her chest, mouth circling onto her hard nipple. Shoulders tensing, she grabbed a handful of his hair. His tongue was lapping eagerly while his hands roamed her breasts greedily, trying to grab as much of her as he possibly could.

She was dizzy with feverish need, pulling him closer to her chest, getting herself drunk on the caresses against her skin. It wasn't until she felt fingers sliding into her pulsing, sensitive heat that she let out a desperate moan, louder than she intended to.

"Spencer," she whimpered, her body starting to shake again. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you pleasure," he murmured against her skin. Then he proceeded to prove his words by thrusting his fingers steadily into her while his thumb rubbed onto her clit. Her hips buckled while her hand fumbled everywhere in search of something to hold before gripping it along his wrist, a familiar yet stronger sensation pushing through her body for the second time.

This high was fast. It was consuming her so much that she could already feel the coil in her stomach, her mind going blank. She arched her back, instinctively shoving away a bit from him, but he moved closer, rocking his fingers in and out of her body at a more rapid pace, almost violently.

"That's it, I got you," he growled in a rich, rounded tone, slamming his fingers into her. "You can take it."

The pleasure suddenly exploded inside of her, sending her over the edge as she cried louder than before, the sensation sweeping her up into orgasmic bliss and leaving her panting heavily. The feeling was all-consuming, overwhelming in all the best ways. She let out a sob as he eased her through it, kissing her breasts while her thighs shook around his arm.

Her breathing slowed as she came back down to reality and she reached out her hand for him. There was a coy smile on his lips as he sat beside her, pulling her body into his arms as he gently hooked a hand under one of her legs, placing it on top of his thighs.

She might not be as smart as he was, but she could tell exactly what he had in mind.

"Spencer," she hissed, throwing him a pointed look. But her protest trembled as he gently kissed the corner of her lips, traveling along her jawline before he buried his head in the crook of her neck.

"I think you can give me another one."

A hiss of pleasure instantly flew out of her mouth as she felt him thrusting two fingers inside her swollen flesh. There was no mercy in his sudden movement this time, curling his digits inside her vigorously, the sensation had her legs shaking all over again. She could hear how drenched she was, the slick sound of him driving into her echoed around the room, followed by a harsh, loud sob ripping through her throat.

The heel of his palm pressed against her clit as he continued to curl his fingers inside her. Her thighs tightened around his hand, trying desperately to push him away from the overwhelming sensation. Her body was already shaking from the sheer number of times of pleasure, unsure that she could take much more.

"I-I can't—" She begged him, her fingers wrapping around his wrist, trying to pull his hand away but instead the vibrations began to ripple throughout her body. Her eyes rolled back as her mouth dropped open, no longer able to speak as a loud squeal left her lips, the sound distorted by the pleasure surging through her body. “P-Please. I can’t.”

"One more—just one last time."

She cried out and huffed breaths in her nose as his fingers curled and started to rock almost violently forward, swinging hard against a spot deep inside her. Her eyes went wide, feeling something entirely new, like nothing she had ever experienced before. "I-I can't, it's too much—fuck."

"That's it. Such a good girl." He growled, panting with exertion, using the strength of his whole arm to push in and out at a blistering speed. "You look so pretty like this."

"I-I'm going to make a mess—" A panic cry left her mouth, her whole body tensing. Her grip tightened around his forearm, reveling in the flex of his tendons as he rocked his fingers inside her violently.

"Then make a mess." He kissed the side of her neck. "Come on, make a mess for me."

He was forcing out filthy, squelching noises from her body and all she could do was lean into him, wordlessly panting needy noises. Then his thumb circled around her clit, pushing it up into her body so harshly she was gripping onto his arm for dear life. She couldn't take it anymore, her body shaking as the intensity rippled along her core.

And then it suddenly came to her—so intense, so violent, sweeping her away as she almost blacked out at the force of pleasure. She could hear his distinctive voice, triumphant, then turning into lavish praise as she screamed, focusing on a sudden pressure in her gut before a strong gush of liquid surged from her body. He watched her tremble and held her close to him as she screamed out his name, his fingers continuously circling her clit roughly.

Y/n had never felt a pleasure so intense until now. Her body was spasming, her legs were shaking, and her eyes were closed shut. She held onto him desperately and felt his heart beating under her palm as he kissed the side of her head, gently muttering praises as he helped her ride out the tide of pleasure convulsing in her blood. And when every drip of liquid escaped her body, she finally let out a sigh, her head falling against his shoulder.

The silence was calm after the wave, but his voice slowly filled her head with a hint of triumph. "So, did I do well?"

She was tired; utterly, delightfully tired. But she wasn't in the place to hear him gloat. Her eyes slightly trained on him, and hating the smug look on his face, she slowly turned her body towards him. She bit her bottom lip to stop herself from smiling as she pressed her lips on his cheek, softly, barely even touching it, before she trailed her lips down his jawline, stopping on the crook of his neck.

"I.." He breathed out, his voice sounding strangled as she felt his grip on her hip. "What are you doing?"

"Just reciprocating your words." She then opened her mouth, her tongue slightly tasting his skin. "I want to ruin you too."

Her parted lips were hot against his skin, his eyes fluttering close as she softly sucked on the spot below his ear. He let out a soft whimper, melting into her touch. What was it about neck kisses that made them feel so good? Was it the tingles that ran down his spine through to the soles of his feet with every kiss? Was it the feeling of intimacy clouding his thoughts?

Y/n wasn't even fully recovered from the pleasure still strumming in her system but she found herself reaching over, sinking onto her knees in front of him. His eyes went wide momentarily. Realization hit him as he understood what she wanted, what she wanted to do to him, his eyes studying the determined look on her face.

"A-Are you sure?" He asked carefully, sliding a hand into her hair. "Because if you change your mind, I'm more than fine."

She dragged her eyes up to his body, lingering for a few seconds on the vest he was still clad in and caressing the blush dipping along his neck before settling on his face. "I think it's only fair. Besides," she muttered, giving him a sly smile, looking into the passion brimming in his eyes. "I really want to suck you."

He grunted at her words, leaning onto the couch as he watched her. She wanted to bask in the warmth of his gaze, the utter devotion in his eyes as she settled between his thighs. She leaned closer, raking her nails over the contours of his legs, the material of his pants rippling under her fingers.

Biting her lip, she slid one hand over his bulge. He let out a sharp breath, desperately whispering her name as she unbuttoned the belt around his waist. Her movements were slow, lingering the anticipation in his tensed muscles. And after fumbling with his belt, he finally helped her, pulling himself out of the confinement of his pants.

She sighed in satisfaction. God, he was beautiful. He was thick and solid, warm and long with a slight curve. Veins dance along his length and she traced a finger up to the flared head, before dipping her head, her lips following. The droplet of wetness on the tip looked too nice to be ignored and her head completely emptied as she leaned in and licked it up.

He grunted weakly, out of amusement or desire, she didn't know—maybe both. Humming, she wrapped one hand around him and stroked him slowly. A pause settled between them before she finally took him fully in her mouth. He was all salt-tinged mixed with something undeniably him, his taste bursting on her tongue. She kept swallowing him down, her jaw stretching wide as she struggled to get every inch of him inside her, wrapping her hand around what was left.

"Y/n," he groaned between ragged breaths as her mouth wrapped around the girth of his thickness. He had his hand buried deep in her hair, holding it up in his grip when she tightened her hold on him, squeezing him gently. The added stimulation made his eyes roll back, a masculine sound of pleasure resounding in his throat. "You're unbelievable."

The compliment and the urgency in his voice made her wonder how much she was able to make him lose control. She swirled her tongue around him, swallowing him back down as she give him a rough, firm pump. She hollowed her cheeks and greedily inhaled him. His smooth, warm length slid across her tongue and he hit the back of her throat. The vibrations traveled down, shooting through his veins and he almost came apart right there.

"Shit," he rasped out, tugging on her hair as his hips jerked up, and she gagged, rearing back off with a cough, eyes watering. "You're taking me so well."

She couldn't stop the proud smile forming on her face. She was the one who made him lose control—the one who could awaken the dumbstruck look in his eyes. Her mouth enclosed around him again and she repeated the movement, trailing down his cock with her tongue, hands twisting back and forth, lips sliding back down until she had every inch of him in her mouth. He took her head in a tender hold and slammed her face down, his hips flexing to meet her.

The low wet sounds of her gagging meld with his gravelly broken moans were so erotic. She glanced up at him, brow-raising mischievously as she moved her head in a rapid motion. He panted another hoarse sigh out, his chest heaving as he inhaled a lung full of desperately needed air, hips jolting upward.

"I can't hold any longer," he whispered hoarsely.

He was on the edge of his release, she could feel him pulsing in her mouth. The mixture of intimacy and pleasure overwhelmed his body, and instead of pulling away, she only grew more aggressive in her attempt, sucking harder and tongue pressing firmer. Her efforts were rewarded by the hot ropes of liquid hitting her throat. His head was starting to spin, stars danced behind his eyes as he felt her swallow everything he had to give, save for the small dribble past her lips as she unraveled her mouth around his shaft.

She smiled up at him, enjoying the way he was leaning back after his bliss, and despite how heavy his body felt, he used a thumb to wipe away the line of liquid on her mouth. "I think we both are very much ruined."

She let him pull her up, settling himself on top of his thighs. His wide hands engulfed her face before he brought her down to him, capturing her lips in a soft, searing kiss. He kissed her with every ounce of power he had. Kissed her as he had daydreamed about so many times. He kissed her as he had never kissed anyone before, and it was messy and rough and probably looked horrific from a different point of view, but it felt right.

Then he pulled away, yet kept his hold on her. She carefully resigned herself, feeling completely in the moment with him, her eyes lost in his lingering gaze as she scanned over his features. His eyes appeared darker in this light of the room and angle, but she could still see the softness of them.

He suddenly reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The unexpected action had her freeze above him. It awfully felt too intimate, but on the other hand, it felt... somewhat peaceful. Calming. Serene.

And at that moment, she suddenly became aware of their surroundings, of what had took place. The way she was naked and perched on his lap. The way he was mostly fully clothed. The way they were trying to catch their breath.

Then her knee grazed against the deadly weapon still attached to his hip and she jerked, becoming aware of who he was, who she was supposed to be. This unexpected turn of events was already a slight curve in the dynamic between an authority and somebody who was involved in a case.

An unsettling feeling suddenly weighed in her gut as she studied his face, pushing and pulling her consciousness as if she was stepping into a pit of regret… into something that was unforeseeable—into something that wasn't going to end well.

>> NEXT PART

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[khuzena]

12:59

| Michael Kaiser x g/n!reader

summary: everyone in life comes and goes, but sometimes he wishes you stayed; but it's too big of a request to ask.

Warning: toxic rs,no happy ending, cry bitches. Angst, Angst, Angst. (Cheating again because this man is the reddest, crimson flag ever)

A/n: was writing this in school, no activities for the entire day so i was writing this. (This is so cringe oh my god i swear I'll write fluff next time what character do you guys want as long as it aint barou because idk how to write him..)

It sometimes gets too hard to breathe at night.

There are times where he'd find solace in your embrace, you've made home in his heart and you know.

The cupid to your psyche, the romeo to his juliet. So tempting yet so dangerous.

Trust, such a simple thing yet so hard to keep and attain. Something he's won from you years ago yet he lost instantly.

A prodigy as he, the loyal man he used to be.

Rainy days like these you'd find yourself in his well-sculpted arms, inhaling his scent and his kisses marking you his.

Two weeks before the fallout, he's been a distant man, eyes filled with disdain for you and you don't know why. Just a month ago there were flowers on your doorstep, a genuine compliment through text and light kisses pressed on your forehead here and there.

Though recently, he's been looking at you with such hate in his eyes, like you ruined his life— like you're the reason you brought pain and suffering in his world. Why?

There you were, sitting at the marble kitchen island and eating some fresh fruits while watching a boring show on your phone.

Kaiser walked past you as he grabbed an energy drink from the fridge, not even sparing you a single glance.

"Hey, love." You said smiling, nervously fidgeting your fingers under the table.

Kaiser rolled his eyes before looking at you with such disgust. Was your hair really that unkempt? Did your acne come back again? Was he no longer attracted to you? Or was it because he's found someone else. You don't know but these questions spiral in your brain, wondering, asking where you went wrong.

"Hey." He replied, the irritation in his voice was too obvious.

"Can we talk?"

If anyone could see you right now they would compare you to a homeless man asking for scraps or spare change. But at least a hobo has more dignity than you.

Like a broke man begging for money and food to survive, you're pleading, throwing away all your dignity— if you even had any left; begging for a tiny speck of his attention. Some answer, some closure for why he's been treating you like this.

"I don't have time for that and you know it, I have a game again next week in france. Let's talk next time when I have the time"

Confusion and anger boiling in you at this point, what do you mean he has no time for a simple conversation? When he has all the time in the world to do stupid shit without you when he's actually free.

"What the fuck? You barely have any fucking time for me."

He stared down at you with a blanm expression, it was irritating how he wasn't even taking you seriously.

He didn't say a word before walking away to the comfort of his room.

A week later he came home.

It was 12:59 am.

A knock on your door disturbed the peace in the living room, you made your way to the main door. Sighing with relief that it was him, that he got home safely from whatever team party he attended.

"'M sorry…"

Your eyes widened, the moment you opened the door he lunged himself at you; his grip as he hugged you not loosening.

"What happened to you, micha?..."

The smell of alcohol getting on you, the red lipstick stains on his blouse and how pathetically dishevelled that man was.

The sight took your ability to speak away for a moment. You've never expected this, he told you earlier that he'd just be drinking with his team but to go as far as this?

"Don't touch me."

Kaiser tightened his grip, the shame on his face says it all. He's never cried this hard before as his tears soaked your shirt, "Liebling.."

"I said go away." Venom dripped from your voice, causing him to flinch in his very drunk state.

A loud thud can be heard throughout the house as he fell on his knees, like the shameless bastard he is, he cried, "I still love you", "I won't do it again I promise", "You're everything, please, schatz"

The next day, he was lying on the couch. His bags being too dark one could mistake him for a panda.

Even though his stomach is growling loudly, vomit bubbling in his throat or face dried with tears he couldn't help but just wail.

Hands trembling as he looked to the alarm clock to his left, 12:59 pm. Kaiser's legs wobbled as he checked every room, looking for a sign you were there but no.

"Liebling! Please, please. Where are you?"

His voice echoed in the walls of his apartment but there was no one who answered back.

Kaiser's lost you and it's all his fault yet he wailed pathetically on the floor, holding on to the railings of his stairs like someone took you away from him.

As time passed by, he's lost count of the days he's skipped training. His hunger being his least concern even though he barely eats nowadays as he spends most of his time staring at the ceiling.

Wishing for a miracle, wishing that god hears his prayer for one last time.

In this time of deep depression his spotify playlist has become his friend, his pillow being the tissue for his tears and the sheets crumpled from his thrashing around the bed.

kaiser: please come abck

kaiser: back***

kaiser: please

kaiser: please

kaiser: i love you

kaiser: liebling

kaiser: liebling lets talk

kaiser: please.

*seen*

It's hopeless.

No matter how many times he blew up your phone with calls and texts you never answered. Though you never even blocked him too.

It was that time again, he called you again. Screen stained with tears as his eyes sparkled with hope when you finally picked up.

"Liebling, im sorry, im sorry."

The call was still on but he could only hear your heavy breathing, his breath hitched as he shakily held his phone to his ear.

"I know my sorrys won't change anything, but I still love you."

"I can't live without you"

"You're my everything."

"Please."

Please.

Still not a single word from you, he plopped down on his bed as he stared into nothing again in his empty room.

"Michael, stop."

He clutched his phone to his chest as he sobbed quietly, making sure you didn't hear him.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Stop apologising, Michael," you let out a sigh, "let's break up"

"Yeah, sure. Good night"

The call ended right then and there.

Kaiser kept replaying your voicemails over and over again. His nerves calmed down for a bit until the reality set in, he'd never hear your voice again.

There will no longer be any you standing outside the door with your arms wide open to congratulate him on his win or a lover he'd call his. The person he vowed to love and protect forever, gone.

And it's all his fault.

For one last time, he checked his phone as he saw a notification on his lock screen. The bright light almost blinded him.

love: i know you're still awake

love: go to sleep

*sent 12:59 am*

He sighed, putting away his phone and staring at the clock.

"Yeah, maybe it is getting late"

Note: we js had a halloween party 2 days ago, cosplayed as krul, had so much fun. °^°>🍦. I'll stop writing for kaiser i swear im js obsessed w him :((( (this fic not proofread m sorryyy)

[shkika]

Hi! I have a question regarding how close pebbles is to moon! I just finished reading pebbles pearl reading dialogue and in all his dialogue he just refers to moon as his neighbor. And he refers to suns as a close friend so do you think that canon pebbles doesnt feel close with moon while moon feels close with pebbles?

Oh no... do you know how much I love Pebbles and Moon's relationship. How well it's written, how every event makes sense and how much I love them?? Anon... you're sending me into a spiral..

Short answer to your question is yes! Moon thought of Pebbles as closer than he considered her in my opinion.

Incomprehensible ramble incoming! Since I NEED this information for my Moonie blog, I've researched this quite a bit, but I'm scatter brained so I'm sorry if it's hard to read.

We actually know this as a fact even merely from NSH talking about their relationship from him perspective!

Actually Sig and Suns are PERFECT candidates to peer into what Moon and Pebs were like! As they were their close friends from different sides of the coin!

Look at this for example.

Pebbles has always been distant. Moon tried to be a big sister to him and Sigs felt like she was never truly appreciated for it proper.

Suns acknowledges this and gives the reasoning that Pebbles sought independence. He didn't want to be told things. Which combined with Moon's seeing him as a younger sibling, it probably led to him being coddled too much.

Which.. no doubt probably annoyed him!

And how could he NOT seek independence on the other hand! He might sneer to Artificer about the protests concerning his creation, but they NO DOUBT left an impact on him! That's my opinion at least.

Not only was his very existence protested against from both the Shaded Citadel people, but ALSO from the very city that built him to MOVE there!!

WE KNOW that not everyone even MOVED!!!

(Ashy green pearl quote- Pebbles)

They did not want a new iterator!! They wanted Moon. No doubt he was compared to Moon as well. He didn't even get the luxury to have his own grounds of sorts. He and Moon are the only example we and hell maybe even they know of iterators being built so close together.

Which is especially sad when we put into perspective that Moon doesn't even like her citizens or have strong fondness for their art and culture. Unlike he very much does!

His last comfort was a pearl containing their hymn. He shares how he viewed the relationship he had with them as mutually beneficial (Very funny when she compares them to parasites.)

Moon is the one with seething hatred for them, not him which is just... so good. It only deepens as the game goes on by the way. Moon you are such a good character.

Back on track though.

What this entire situation reads to me as. Moon wanted to help and be there in any way she can for her little brother. She had responsibility over him. Pebbles was literally the only iterator out of them with another iterator administrator and it was her. She wanted for him to view her as family not as a boss or direct example.

But they were still attached and compared to one another. And although she tried her best, you can see how being treated as the lesser of the two, led to him wanting to be more distant.

Instead he grew very attached to Suns! Who seems like the opposite of Moon in all ways honestly. EXTREMELY BAD with their words, nihilistic prick!!!

It just makes sense. It's sad. I wouldn't blame anyone for the fact they grew a little distant.

I also don't in any way think Pebbles didn't at all like her or didn't care for her or all of that. His feelings were just complicated. I still think they loved each other.

[tarjapearce]

Hey, I wanna say i really really like the way you write fics. It feels??? Natural?? To read it?? Always an adventure everytime I read a fic of yours.

How do you write so good?? I'm a writer as well and I'd love to hear your tips and tricks ^^

First of all, I wanna thank you for liking the crap stuff I write. (Cause I'm genuinely amazed some times that people just like it and I'm not saying this because.)

⚠️⚠️LONG AND POSSIBLE CONTROVERSIAL ANSWER AHEAD ⚠️⚠️

It's kinda funny, ngl. Lemme tell you something, I don't know if you guys struggle with Impostor Syndrome a lot like me, but everytime someone gives a compliment like this my brain just goes into self sabotaging mode.

In the outside its :

But in the inside, my brain immediately goes:

Cause I'm aware that I can do better. (And we will ~) it's weird. I'm always striving to do better.

As for the tips and tricks, I'm surely not the right person to ask advice from 😅, but Imma just tell you this from what I experience and from my perspective (Hopefully won't get backlash from this, if not, R. I. P. me jsksj) Be warned though, it's kinda contradictory cause writing is hard yo!

1. You gotta read. Either books or whatever your favorite genre is, but you gotta read. I consume fan fics and non fanfics cause you learn from other people too. I read fanfics mostly to know new words, how the character develops and the like.

I read more spanish stuff than anything. Which I try to transfer to what I write.

2. I try to keep it as simple as possible. With that I mean to not over embellish words cause it gets boring and weird. Sure, everyone wants to make their fanfics pretty (nothing wrong in that) but sometimes I feel that less is more. Like, nothing wrong if you wanna poet the f- out of your fic. (THIS IS A DOUBLE EDGED ONE SO BE CAREFUL!!)

I mean there is a huge difference in reading:

"The anger and frustration on her way of living was taking a toll on her mind"

and:

"Her nemesism had muddled her mind into an endless spiral of what ifs and what not, and frankly if her mind could speak, it'd beg for a break."

It's hard to pick one style, but as long as you keep it consistent, I guess it's all good (?) (Funny cause I always aim for the second one and end up in the first jsksj and I dont even know myself if I'm keeping it consistent)

3. Get yourself a beta reader that doesn't coddle you. It helps alot!!!! Cause again, compliments sure are nice, but they don't tell you where you could get better. ✨( Unless the reader provides puntual feedback on what they liked and what not. Those are my favorites and a rare gem ❤️)

4. I know this one is hard because everyone at some point have done this. But IF YOU COMPARE yourself to other writers? You'll lose yourself. Not only you'll lose motivation cause you seem unable to write like them, but you will fall into this... vicious circle of self deprecating and burnout. And the self doubt sky rockets nonstop.

Everyone is different. Everyone learns in a different pace. Trust me, I wanted to make great stories with a good looking writing when I had the slightest idea of what I was doing (Still do!) 😂. Writing fanfics is not a competition to who writes more beautiful/good/professional than others. Or who has more notes or the most canon-stuck character, or the cause let's face it, none will get a character's personality to a 100%!!! (And that's ok cause it's fanfiction and we all have a different approach to the character either emotional or mental) .

Personally for me, the cockyest thing someone can do is to claim to know a character more than the creators themselves. Kinda rude for me, if you ask . Like, sure feeling a deep connection with a character doesn't mean it'll grant us instant access to their whole self. Characters just like us evolve. Either for the good or the bad, but they don't remain the same, so knowing them completely is a big fat lie. Unless stated by the creator. (But we're delusional in this site, so~)

I mean, sure characterization is something we all struggle since we guide ourselves by some of the character's most prominent traits and make them their default personality. (I've sinned in this jsksj so don't worry)

5. HAVE FUN AND TAKE BREAKS. I mean it. The favorite things I've written is where Im genuinely having fun writing it. But also after a well deserved rest. Cause if something doesn't feel right, it won't be right. And burnout is easier to get at than we actually think.

6. I recently started to follow writing advice blogs, one of my favorite @heywriters.

@she-who-fights-and-writes. (They have amazing writing resources, so does Pinterest and YouTube. Seize them!!!)

But yeah, I'm still an amateur on this, I make emphasis in the 5th one tho.

Hope this helps you? ;w;.

Love you❤️✨

Thanks for stopping by. ❤️

[pico-farad]

Vrains season 2 thoughts - part 2!

Go, Blood Shepherd, Ghost Girl, and the Ignis

All Vrains season analysis posts

⇀ Go

I'm devastated LMAO. In shambles. They massacred my boy (shh don't tell me the Go in my head isn't canon).

It's okay Go, Secret Identities AU will save you...

So, I don't think it was a bad idea for Go to "defect" to SOL. Go was already playing third fiddle very hard in the first season, and there was no way he could compare to Soulburner in terms of popularity as a main character, so turning him into an antagonist could be refreshing.

But it says something about Yusaku and Go's lack of relationship that when Go joins the bounty hunters Yusaku isn't even interested, much less betrayed. He doesn't ask, "Hey Go, why are you doing this?" he just glances at him and goes "Hmm, SOL Technologies sent bounty hunters."

You can tell too, during their duel later, that Yusaku just isn't close enough to Go to even attempt to break him out of the brain hacking. The best he can do is, "Didn't we fight against Hanoi together?" Uh I dunno Yusaku, did you? Isn't the reason why Go is in this downward spiral because you solo'd Hanoi by yourself?

The Soulburner vs. Go duel could have been a good place to explore that reasoning. Go's annoyance here is justified. It's completely understandable to feel like you're being talked down to, when fanboy Soulburner -- god bless him -- tells you that you're a hero who saved Vrains, even though you know that you couldn't do anything, you were useless. There's almost a narrative self-awareness there, that your duel was only used to make Playmaker look better. Playmaker is the real hero of Vrains, and you were just a stepping stone. Of course Soulburner's gushing would rub you the wrong way.

This relationship could have been sooo good if they built on it. Soulburner believes in Go, even when Go himself doesn't believe he's a hero. He understands that it isn't strength that makes you a hero, it isn't winning duels. It's having the courage to stand up to evil. That's why he admires Go and the others. Because that's what gave him the courage to stand up to his own demons. Imagine a rematch where Soulburner returns the favor, where he's the one to save Go from the darkness and convince him to be the hero that he believed in.

But no, instead, they kind of make him as unsympathetic as possible. Maybe that was the point, considering how they end up gutting his character, but this duel really, really makes him look bad. A grown adult playing victim olympics with children and losing. "You were traumatized as a kid? Oh yeah, well I grew up in an orphanage!" nooooo go you can't say that to an anime boy.

Go: For everyone to appreciate me, I must win! Playmaker is in my way. Lost Incident victim, he says? I know he suffered, but I also bet my life on dueling! I'm the one who'll be number one! I'm not Playmaker's stepping stone! Soulburner: ...I don't think you're Playmaker's stepping stone. But right now, you're just SOL Technologies' pet dog. Actually, a pitiful loser dog who complains to strangers. Go: How dare you say that-- Soulburner: The Go Onizuka in my heart is a great duelist! Number one? Everyone appreciate you? The Go Onizuka I know would never say pathetic things like that! Go: Be quiet! What do you know? Soulburner: I do know! Because Go Onizuka is a hero who gave me courage when I couldn't move forward. No matter how cornered he was, Go Onizuka was an independent duelist who believed in his own strength to the end. Where is that person who gave me courage? Go: *turns away* ...I end my turn. Soulburner: Go Onizuka... I want to duel the real you.

Do you see my vision?

But none of these ideas really come back, and it's all downhill from there for Go, with the AI implant and Earth and all. He just becomes another evil, unhinged, "pathetic" villain to be put down by Yusaku, who doesn't give a shit about him. We were so robbed of the Soulburner vs. Go rematch.

⇀ Ghost Girl and Blood Shepherd

I don't have much to say about Blood Shepherd, I'm sure I would have found him cool when I was 13. No, I really only need to talk about Ghost Girl vs. Blood Shepherd.

This duel needed to be a two-episoder. They've built up this mysterious shared past, raised the stakes by putting their accounts on the line, and then the duel is over in three turns. The majority of Vrains is two-episode duels, but Ema gets the short stick by having both of her duels be singles?

(Aoi also has 2 single episode duels, out of 3 total. Let's do some math, this season Aoi and Ema combined have 6 episodes of duels. That's the same amount that Go, Revolver, and Lightning each have alone. Blood Shepherd has 8. Soulburner gets 11 episodes of duels. And Bohman gets 12. All six of Bohman's duels are two-parters, four of them are against Yusaku, and none of them are that memorable. Couldn't he have donated one episode to Ema?)

It's revealed that Ghost Girl and Blood Shepherd are half siblings, but it's not particularly clear whether they've even spoken outside of Vrains. If they had the extra episode, they could have given them a flashback together, arguments about their respective upbringings, anything to flesh out their relationship and make the ending of this duel make sense.

Ghost Girl loses. Fine, we can't have nice things. She isn't going to get anything important for the rest of the season, so let her go out honorably. But no, Blood Shepherd doesn't even give her the dignity of following through on the stakes of the match.

It's not like I want the female character to get deleted, but without showing any kind of shared history or interpersonal relationship, this "brotherly mercy" reads as patronizing bullcrap. They're both adults who have committed to an unforgiving line of work, but Blood Shepherd does a 180 because his absent father -- who we were just told about 8 minutes ago -- actually did sort of care about him.

Never mind that his father and Ema didn't try to help him, this one sentence is apparently enough to make Blood Shepherd not only take back the stakes he proposed, but also risk and lose his life to Lightning, because, "It's a brother's responsibility to protect his sister." No, you're both adults, you don't have a history together, you don't have "a responsibility to protect her" just because you share the same father. And when that's all that they show, it feels uncomfortably essentialist, out of character, and cheaply written.

Part of this is cultural difference, but it's just a trope that I personally hate for various reasons.

⇀ The Other Ignis

I don't really have thoughts on Earth or Aqua, other than that they sure did girlcode the Water Ignis and then damsel her. Windy and Lightning are fine as mid-series antagonists, though I think they lack impact with just two of them. If either Earth or Aqua was also on the side of the bad guy Ignis, having a nice round antagonist trio would be more imposing and balanced (3 Ignis being pro-human and 3 against)

They even acknowledge themselves how underwhelming their group is, by trying to recruit Blood Shepherd, and by the fact that they had to really clumsily split up the hero team in the final fight so that they aren't clearly outmatched. This contrivance is lame. Compare that to, say, Ark Cradle in 5Ds where each character has a specific opponent, a high note to end on, and all the other characters are counting on them to prevail.

This is the same problem Vrains had in season 1, where they insist on Yusaku being the Last Man Standing, and less important characters have to be picked off so that Yusaku's big boss fight has higher stakes. We'll see if that actually pays off in season 3.

-----

Gonna cut it off here, I need to watch the rest to properly cover Bohman, Revolver, Yusaku, and Ai. I know I really went in on the writers in this section, but I am actually looking forward to these next 30 episodes. I don't think I'm gonna come away loving Vrains, but I'm very curious about this ending, and why I see so much fanart of hot anime boy AI. I think it's gonna be a good time!

...Sorry, did I forget someone again?

Sigh...

Next time on Yu-Gi-Oh Vrains Analysis: How the Fuck Did Aoi's Writing Get Worse

[vaguely-concerned]

the absolute insane research rabbit hole I am currently going down to try to determine the one (1) specific version of the robin hood stories I listened to on cassette tape audiobook in like 2001 and that permanently affected my brain chemistry. I am going nuts. and yet I must know. if anyone by chance should happen to know what version it could have been, considering that it was likely produced in the 90s or a bit before (from memory of the state of the cassette packaging, it was quite worn) and available (in norwegian but in translation) from a small library in somewhat rural norway... please tell me and free me from this self-inflicted torment lol

some more vaguely remembered context that might help pinpoint it:

robin dies at the end, and I think he's already been parted from marian for some time before that (I don't remember if it's because she's dead or just For Reasons, but the growing melancholy of the last few chapters even before he dies were probably what made this version imprint itself on my brain). he's at a convent after falling sick and the abbess or something is an old enemy of his (and maybe his cousin??) and goes whole hog on the bleeding cure to make sure he doesn't get up again. little john (and maybe will scarlet?? some merry man at least) are there with him as he dies and little john cries while robin comforts him. this scene did permanent things to my psyche I suspect. peak 'THIS WASN'T IN THE DISNEY FILM WITH THE FUNNY ANIMALS!!'-betrayal and outrage mixed with 'but also this is so sad it's somehow beautiful...' formative childhood experience.

if I remember correctly there's a bit more of the rest of the merry men than you get in most adaptations. robin and little john had some powerful homoerotic Somethings going on to my baby queer mind but that's just what the robin hood mythos is so idk what that adds to it in terms of helping with the search

I think it must have stuck fairly close to the original ballads that we have, at least comparatively (I've had a looksie and it was definitely not howard pyle's version. I think it had a bit more somber/serious tone especially towards the end, and less of the faux-old fashioned language)

I remember finding it very funny that robin's way of making friends was just finding people who proved they could easily beat him up or were better at stuff than he was and going 'you rule do you wanna join my cool club? :D' and them all being like 'you're an annoying little twerp but also ...yeah <3'. he may also have met marian like that in this or I may be mixing it up with a different version.

from this and some other odds and ends through my downward spiral of obsession I have a tentative theory it may have been either rosemary suthcliff or antonia fraser's versions (both from the 1950s)? but especially with the layer of translation getting inbetween it's so hard to tell haha

I understand if all anyone has to offer when faced with this always sunny conspiracy board of leads is sympathy and/or rightful mockery, but all ideas are welcomed with open arms

[kairithemang0]

Alright. Hear me out. This is only going to make sense to me. And maybe 5 other people. The timing of each picture is important. I'm literally just gonna be rambling pls ignore this (or don't)

These two

These two

And these two (this one is half joking but here me out)

The parallels between Riku and Owen to me are so batshit insane I can't not talk about them. I've held back on mentioning them for so long but I truly can't stop thinking about it. Riku starts out as the best friend to the main character, he's a little in over his head, he teases him, but it's clear that their relationship is a tight bond and matters to him. Sora, the main character, leaves him. Riku goes into the darkness.

Curt saw Owen as his best friend, at least post fall, and I'd like to believe Owen felt the same towards Curt. Because it felt like they were all the other had. They're the only one that knows their secret, they're the only one who they can ever talk about it to because they'll lose everything if it's even thought of that they may in any way be gay. When Curt leaves Owen, he spirals. He loses himself, maybe he even thought this was who he was supposed to be all along.

Riku-Ansem is the Ansem possessed version of Riku, the one who's under his control and doesn't have much say in what he does. To me, this is the DMA. He's following orders he probably doesn't want to follow, he doesn't care about BVN's plan, he wants to get his deed and get out of there, in the end he also wants to get his revenge on Curt. Riku-Ansem doesn't care for the plan with the princesses of heart, he doesn't care if Kingdom Hearts is light or darkness, he wants to save Kairi and take Sora down. Other motive, and revenge.

Riku-Ansem, now back as Riku, gets a slightly happier ending than Owen. He gets locked in the realm of darkness, and yet finds his way out. Owen, well Owen gets shot in the head.

ALRIGHT NOW HERE'S HOPE REPLICA RIKU AKA REPLIKU IS FLOPPY DISK OWEN.

So to me, Ansem is the person who invited Owen into Chimera. Organization 13 is Chimera, and Xehanort is the Chimera head. So Organization 13 makes this replica version of Riku, basically a robot with a fake heart and memories, to taunt Sora into thinking Riku still hates him. THIS IS LITERALLY JUST THE MADE UP PLOT LINE FOR LIVE AND LET SPY WHERE FLOPPY DISK OWEN IS REAL.

Oh and for my own personal thing, Dream Drop Distance Riku is Guardian Angel!Owen :). I'm just gonna link my post to that if anyone has made it this far and is for whatever reason care, here.

anyways uh yeah :) not gonna main tag this yall don't care

[ridleyytheriddler]

so so fucking tired of not having a friend that i can actually open up to. i kind of told one of my friends about how i feel like my life is miserable, and now every time i show that I'm like moderately sad she goes -eyeroll- "oh no you're depressed again." you said i could trust you. you said i could fucking trust you and now you're ignoring everything i said except for the parts that are more convenient to you. i wish i had someone that i could actually talk to and not try to "fix" me.

that's what all my "friends" do.

that's what my parents do.

what am i supposed to do?

i wish i could die.

i feel like everything is spiralling out of control. my grades used to be the one thing i could rely on- i could always rely on having an A, at least above 95, but now my language arts grade is a 91 and we have an essay and i fucking hate it because its hard and if i don't get full credit and i probably won't my grade is going to be a B. and on top of that math is getting harder. i used to know everything but now i don't. the entire unit is new. every time i try to do my homework my brain shuts down and when it wakes up its already been an entire hour and i don't know what to do. my orchestra trip is happening in may and we were supposed to choose our roommates. the person i was supposed to be with was put in a different room and i have no one to be with and no one understands why i was angry. one of them told me i should be glad I'm going on the trip in the first place. no. i'd rather be stuck at quiet, boring, stupid, fucking, school than be in a crowded, loud bus with a fucking stranger while the rest of the bus is full of excited and happy teenagers who are having fun with their best friends.

my friends are losing me.

my old friends have forgotten me.

i haven't forgotten them yet. they dance around with their new best friends and their popularity while i just stand behind them in the dust. they noticed me yesterday. they said they liked my shoes. i smiled and laughed as one of them compared my outfit to a mechanical pencil. i hate them so much. i hate that i cant stand up for myself. whats wrong with me?

I'm so fucking done with my life. I'm so fucking done. I'm so done. I'm so tired. i just want to sleep and never wake up. i had a nice dream today. in it i was friends with everyone and everyone was friends with me. it was nice. it was fun. i didn't want to wake up. why can't i be friends with everyone? am i too ugly? am i too weird? are all my friends weird? I'm such an asshole for even thinking that about my friends. is there something wrong with me? why doesn't anyone love me?

[faithfromanewperspective]

I was listening to music thinking about why I find stuff written by Australian artists so refreshing (especially my real life 21st century merry thieves from my hometown aka 5sos if you're wondering) like is it just the cultural familiarity? But I realised what I was noticing was a distinct lack of something I'm not quite sure how to conceptualise. It's like, a desperate worship of a significant other that borders on (okay a lot of the time is outright) objectification, like I get the vibes of relying on this person or their body to solve everything for you from a lot of american especially songs (I find False God to be a great commentary on it actually and generally have no problems with taylor btw). It's like I want to vibe with a song, I really want to, but it kind of puts me on edge and gives vibes that aren't quite predatory but I also can't quite relax into, like even if it isn't sexual at all I feel like if I put myself in the position of the wrong person in the song, they want something from me. Especially cis straight male artists but like the genders can flip sometimes and occasionally a queer artist can emit the same ~vibe~ whereas with 5sos for example I can put myself into any position in any one of their songs and they do sing about some dark stuff, same goes for the sexier ones too, and feel utterly safe and understood and the vibes are like yeah it might suck now but somehow we'll get through and I don't need to change myself to get there, and somehow that vibe is so strong it can be manufactured into real life and I can just carry it around with me in the world. Even when I'm torn up and grieving and angry, it's safe to feel that with no expectations on how.

And (comparing to America now because that's the controlling patriarchy majority but also western entertainment majority from my pov) I've never been there but the things I hear about subtle sexism or just the entitlement rampant in the evangelical church (and if you know me I'll always wind my way back to manifesting an actually biblically canon following for Jesus preferably soon) and it's like Halloween spooky stories for the more sheltered of us (I am now aware it's most likely really subtle and I wouldn't notice it on first visit) but still. I've been unpacking pda-profile neurodivergent and control trauma for long enough now I know that need for control comes from an unmet need. So before I start ranting about sex ethics (because intimate means safe to me and imo that is Biblically Canon) I just want to say, are you okay, America?

And that when I'm feeling the need to be in control of someone else to feel whole inside I go and lower my demands and access some real kind connection because that is what my brain needs, not control over someone else! Not to mention make boundaries to free myself from feeling like someone else is constantly controlling me. And then because I'm a traumatised bitch and I probably won't feel whole inside anyway I go and blast some 5sos and remind myself things can get better and I'm safe to feel my emotions instead of pushing them down all the time, and if I want to I can make some tasteful joke or meme about it that resonates with someone and bam! I've laid the groundwork for connection! something that this brain desperately needs and is scientifically proven will make me feel better in the long run (provided it isn't the fake kind of connection that wants me to be something I'm not for its happy facade, and I'm genuinely concerned there are whole countries who don't understand this concept) anyway

did I mention I love aussie self-deprecating (but mature about it so we pace our spirals to be regular and interspersed with good parties and d&m's and growth and perspective and wanting to make things better) angst culture?

[tartrazeen]

Back on my Mystic Knights bullshit 🫠

You know how I'm always bemoaning how miserable it'd've been if Vincent Walsh actually left the show for season 2? I don't even know if that's true at this point - I think I read it on a fan site, and I've said it so often to overcompensate for how little I like that idea that it's gotten stuck in my brain 😭

And you know how apparently they would've also had another Mystic Knight somehow, based on the Battle Fury promo toys? One called Liam? Supposedly the Mystic Knight of storm, even though that steps on Ivar and Deirdre's elements?

Okay. So.

Logistically, what does the show lose if they lose Angus?

Comic relief

Slapstick comedy and pranks

Quick temper, quicker to forgive

Being clever and sneaky in a way that does not preclude being dumb at other times

Being a show-off but in like a humble, self-deprecating way (compared to Garrett's bragging)

Street smarts

Rohan's most central friendship and biggest hypeman

Cathbad's fondest torment

Some running directly into trouble out of his own vices lol

Unparalleled loyalty

Someone willing to do the dirty work

The team's second-in-command by the end of the show

That is a lot. It's kind of hilarious how much he was pushed to the front of the show, and how much the marketing kinda just glosses over him as "Rohan's friend." He is tanking the shit out of these plots. 👏🏽

Anyway!

Let's say Angus leaves. Me, making everything angsty, pictured a big fight between him and Rohan: they started talking about Rohan being a prince, then wondering if Rohan was the first-born or not, and then Angus started theorizing who came first, which spiralled into talking about what kind of people Rohan's dad and Lugad's dad had to be to want to be with Maeve.

And I'm gonna say Angus is in the wrong here, 'cause Rohan started the last big fight so it's Angus' turn. He's supposed to know how sensitive a topic 'family' is to Rohan, but he very wrongly assumes that he can keep making jokes about Maeve like they always have. But with Maeve being Rohan's mother, it's not funny anymore. Rohan snaps back. He goes low. He starts picking at the family that Angus never even talks about, saying that as bad as Maeve is, at least she did something with her life. What legacy did Angus inherit?

I'd love for that to spiral into Rohan saying Angus has nothing to show for all the shit he's talking about Rohan. Angus is a Mystic Knight - because of Rohan. Angus gets to walk through the castle - because of Rohan. Angus has a place to live - because of Rohan. Whether or not Angus brings up how Rohan's only lived long enough to "do" all those things "for" Angus because of Angus taking care of him as a kid doesn't matter. That was then, this is now, Angus has wasted his life looking after someone who doesn't need his protection anymore. Rohan's Draganta now, remember? And possibly heir to the Temran throne? What's Angus got?

I want Rohan lashing out in that way where he's physically unable to stop even when he's screaming in his head that he doesn't mean it. And for his part, Angus - after stomping off - does realize Rohan didn't mean it. But that doesn't mean those words weren't said, and after thinking about them, Angus decides... maybe it is time to move on. He's threatened to leave before but always stayed because... well, Rohan's his home. And Rohan needs him. But Rohan - some part of him at least - doesn't agree. So maybe it's time to take that for what it is, see this as some sort of... gift? Perhaps?

It's a bit of an OG Irish Goodbye. Angus maybe leaves a letter - "I'll come back someday. I promise. Love you." - but leaves. All the while, Rohan - who felt the rising dread of Angus being gone for too long after what was said - goes looking for him. Maybe he actually catches Angus, just walking along (maybe leaving Tir Na Nog after returning the mace to Fin Varra). They apologize, they laugh it off, they're gingerly friends again, and although Rohan's breathlessly relieved, the laughter keeps lasting a bit too long with too much silence in-between. And Angus seems to have so much pity in his eyes that he won't explain and Rohan won't acknowledge.

Angus tells Rohan to get something back at the hut. Rohan, refusing to question it, goes off. When he returns, Angus is already gone. Even when Rohan waits and waits. Even after Ivar finds him to bring him back. He only moves when Deirdre and Cathbad have convinced him that it'd be better to wait where it's warm (Rohan's waiting as hopefully as ever but his blood's been cold since Angus left his sight).

It takes days for it to sink in. It takes weeks for Rohan to admit it. Months go by, and Rohan almost purposely stops mentioning Angus altogether, and suddenly gets hostile whenever someone else brings him up. He changes, getting angrier and lost in himself, and decides to focus on playing the part of the legendary warrior instead.

A year goes by.

It's Rohan's birthday. Well - near-ish enough.

A messenger appears with a gift for Rohan, and a letter. From Angus. And it's written as if Angus was just casually telling him about an exciting adventure that morning: he's in another land right now, and there are no dragons there, so some friends tried to make what they thought Pyre must have looked like. The package is a sewn together... turtle-faced dog with bird wings. A toy. Lumpy. Nothing like Pyre at all.

No one really knows how to talk about it or Angus without setting Rohan off, and Rohan says nothing out loud about it. But for how close he keeps it at night, it stays wonderfully clean and cared for.

Enter. 👏🏽 Liam. 👏🏽

I do not like Liam. I do not know - nor care - what his character concept was going to be. Because he is Not Angus and therefore he is Sucks. And I'm gonna take that concept and stick it straight into Rohan's head.

With everything the show loses with Angus, what would they want to regain with a new character added to these other ones?

Can't be too braggy, because that's Garrett's thing

Can't be just 'another childhood friend', because where tf would he have been hiding

Can't be someone who's taken too seriously, because they need a comic relief character

Can't just be passing by; everyone has had a purpose for being here and being involved in this quest

So really, again, what do they lose when they lose Angus?

"🐶💕 i wuv u rohan, you're my best friend"

"🐶🌧️ o no i am in jail"

"🐶☀️ yes i love to help my friends, i am loyal"

Like, basic, basic, basic, basic things like that.

The only way to have someone attached at the hip to Rohan to the point of sharing a hut/life is if they grew up completely attached to each other in the first place (Angus), or they came in instantly starry-eyed over Rohan.

The only way to have someone constantly and humourously thrown in jail is if they knew the risk and went for it anyway (Angus), or they "🐶🌧️ o no" their way into there.

The only way to have someone stupidly and steadfastly self-sacrificing for their friends all the time is if they try to always undercut it with a joke (Angus), or openly treat it as the obvious thing to do.

🙂 Folks.

The Legendary Warrior Draganta is getting a squire.

Very much against Rohan's will.

I want Liam to be somebody who so desperately wants to squire for a knight. Maybe he has his own destiny that says he'll squire for the greatest knight to ever exist, so he's always looking for who that person might be. And then he hears about Draganta ending a two or three-decade long war after getting mystical weapons from the land of fairies, and goes, "🥹✨ It's hiiiiiim!"

Wherever he's from, he goes to Kells to find this warrior. And he meets Draganta - sees Rohan on the battlefield, cleaving through some monster that was summoned. And he's so overjoyed and delighted that he instantly trips over himself to pledge his allegiance. If only Rohan will have him, Liam will be absolutely devoted to Rohan's care.

Rohan: "😠 I don't need a squire."

Wrong. 👏🏽 Answer. 👏🏽

Liam sits outside of Rohan's hut all night ("🐶💕 i am waiting"). Makes breakfast. Sneaks in to clean. Tells him updates on what he's heard from the guards. Rohan ignores him, skips breakfast, messes things back up the way he had it, and goes to talk to the guards himself. Liam tries to tidy up Angus half of the hut - Wrong. 👏🏽 Decision. 👏🏽 So Liam never touches that side again ("🐶💕 obvi very special"). Repeat for weeks.

(we thought aideen was down bad 🙃)

The others can't understand why Rohan doesn't like him. It's not like Liam's some snot-nosed kid or anything. He's the same age as Rohan! Maybe older! And he's an expert with a shield and sword, even better with a shield and hammer. He's squired for dozens of knights that were almost enough to be the greatest ones to ever live - Liam knows how to fight, how to strategize, how to dodge, how to do everything and show the others a thing or two. In training, he knocks them down gently and quickly helps them up, showing them how to counter that move and endlessly complimenting their skills. There's not a cross or even neutral word to come out of him, and he's so delightful that the others are won over instantly.

They wonder if Rohan suspects Liam of being a traitor. Cathbad uses his second sight to check - but Liam is perfectly honest. And no, Rohan says that has nothing to do with it. He's had years of practice of knowing when someone's up to something, and Liam isn't anything like that.

He doesn't elaborate on what it could be. He doesn't elaborate on much these days.

Liam's fine with that - most of these knights are very focused and it seems like they're angry, but all that training and sword work has them burning all that off 🐶💕 Liam just has to prove himself, he tells the others. A warrior like Draganta won't just take the first person who comes along to squire for him.

One trope of these shows is having the "Takes Things Too Literally" character. I don't want that to be Liam exactly. He could be unfamiliar with Kells' culture, but I want his deal to be "Trusts Rohan Too Earnestly." Rohan, after all, is best friends with Angus. And it wasn't an 'opposites attract' sort of thing - they were both little shits; Angus was just a professional at it. 💖 So Liam getting thrown into jail over and over isn't a case of, "Oops, I misunderstood the rules!" It's Rohan actively telling Liam to go do something that sets Liam up to be hauled away.

On one hand, it's good to get some goddamn space from the guy.

On the other...

... Rohan's - just... constantly reliving what he thinks Angus must have felt. That fight they'd had, the one where Rohan went too far, where everything broke, where he thought he'd fixed it again, and where Angus told him to go do something and Rohan did and came back and Angus was gone...

It doesn't feel like Angus, when Rohan tries to subconsciously act it out. Rohan's doing it out of spite and anger. That wasn't what was in Angus' eyes. But that's as far as he'll let himself think about it before he's angry again and withdrawing.

I can imagine that at the mid-point of the season, Deirdre might ask Liam about this. She's worried he's being bullied, in a way. Liam agrees that he is - shockingly aware - and says a good squire carries all of his knight's burdens. That includes those of the spirit as well. Because he isn't stupid, and he knows Rohan is mourning someone. Out of respect, Liam's deliberately avoided asking or learning anything about it until Draganta (I have to assume he only ever calls Rohan 'Draganta') tells him what he's allowed to know. But he can't ignore the signs of it, the empty space, the way Rohan will start to turn and abruptly stop as if he's about to say something to someone he suddenly remembers isn't there. Liam knows. If this is what makes Rohan feel better, he's happy to be of service.

Deirdre: "🤨 That's... I mean - okay, I guess."

Anyway, Liam sticks around and Rohan's got no choice 'cause yadda-yadda vision yadda-yadda fairy yadda-yadda Mystic Knight of Storm. Enjoy the mystic shield. It's an umbrella.

There's eventually going to come a point where the second year passes, and Rohan gets another gift and letter. He disappears with it. He hadn't realized how badly he needed this until it happened. It's Angus casually chatting again, saying he's in a new land, and their dragons are very different from the ones in Ireland. The gift is a sewn... hairy snake. No wings. Big ears. A mane around its head, grander than any horse.

Rohan has never loved anything as much as this. Not since the first gift. He tries to bring it quietly home when - of fucking course - Liam catches up before he gets there (I have to assume that Liam's made a little bed for himself immediately outside of the hut 🫠 As in, Rohan almost has to step over him every morning or faceplant immediately after exiting the flap). And Liam spies the gift, going on about where that particular type of dragon is from and all the ways those dragons interact with the people in that land and... goddammit, Rohan wants to hear more. Much more. Anything about the place where Angus might still be.

So Rohan listens, and Liam is overjoyed at finally having an 'in'.

Liam thinks this means he can strike up another conversation about dragons in general later. Liam is wrong lmao

Another year. Rohan's stopped fighting it; Liam's here, and he might as well make himself useful. It's not friendship, really. It's just a begrudging tolerance and acceptance of an ally against Nemaine. All of her efforts have been to take over the land and have Lugad rule over it. Who's Lugad? Rohan's half-brother. They only learned the other existed recently, and it hasn't been easy having to fight family. Not for Rohan, anyway.

Liam's quiet. But he understands. He's put the pieces together. It must certainly be tough, he imagines. It'd be worth mourning that kind of loss. He never says this out loud, because he sees the others only ever talking about it in hushed, private whispers, like they're afraid to even reminisce about the happier times. As a squire, though, there's a duty to help carry these burdens.

WRONG. 👏🏽 FUCKING. 👏🏽 CHOICE. 👏🏽

Skip through this part: Liam goes to find Lugad, who's been isolated away from the others and possibly even back on his island. Liam successfully makes a friend. Liam more successfully brings Lugad to Kells. Liam even more successfully reunites Lugad with Rohan, who smiles for one of the first times Liam's ever seen.

Liam alludes to having helped Rohan with his great, unspoken loss.

It would not be an understatement to say that is the last time Liam sees Rohan smile. The utter rage Rohan rains down on him is more of a storm than he - the Mystic Knight of Storm - can weather, and Liam finally breaks. Not from what Rohan says, but from the failure of Liam's duty to him, forcing those words to come about at all. When Liam quietly bows his head and leaves Rohan to his thoughts, there's an unmistakable air of pity under it.

Rohan, the Mystic Knight of Fire, is colder than he's ever been.

There's an apology. From Rohan. It takes a day. It doesn't clear the air. Liam waits a few days more to ask what he's wanted to ask from the beginning: who's Angus?

Liam's not dumb. And it's not like the others only ever talked in whispers. And it's not like Aideen isn't chatterbox. Liam knows all about Angus by now, and how shattered Draganta is to have lost the closest person in his life. But he wants to know what Rohan will allow him to know.

The endless patience from Liam wins out, and the last of Rohan's stubborn silence crumbles away. By the time night falls, they've talked about Angus so much that it almost feels like he's there with them.

It's strange to Rohan. Angus doesn't know who Liam is. There's never been a person in Rohan's life that Angus didn't know about; now there is. But somewhere on the other side of the world, Angus had hundreds - thousands - of people in his life and Rohan was here, alone and quiet, lost and cold and empty.

I want to stretch it out. The war against Nemaine is finally won, and perhaps Ivar's chalice is retrieved. He must return to his home with it. He is forever in Rohan's debt, and forever a close friend of Kells.

Deirdre and Garrett have gotten closer, what with Rohan so caught up in himself. Nothing serious, but they are still technically betrothed, and Deirdre seems less and less repulsed by the idea of marriage.

Lugad is an excellent warrior. Liam trains with him constantly. Rohan is the better knight, Liam says, compared to Lugad's raw and unrestrained power, but Rohan knows Lugad is the truer force to be reckoned with. Maeve's slow escape and creep back into power stays off in the distance thanks to this force on their side.

So...

Rohan is alone again.

Another year. Another present.

Rohan doesn't open it.

He asks if Liam wants to sleep inside the hut. It's embarrassing having someone out front in the dirt when there's a perfectly usable bed at the ready. Liam declines the bed but is over the moon about getting to be an Indoor Squire 🐶💕 Rohan stops regretting the offer the minute he realizes Angus' bed will stay safe for a little longer.

He opens the present.

Angus found a massive dragon in this third land. There's a sewn version of it with a smaller version of Pyre to show how big it was.

Rohan puts all the gifts onto the other bed, since it might as well be useful.

(yes that means liam slept outside for like two years lmaooooooo 🐶🛖)

(anyway i'm super sleepy right now. gonna end this here, night-dream about it, and maybe come back with some more)

(i love how i finally have an idea for liam that doesn't make me hate him. istg i would've flipped my shit if season two started without angus. how dare they - he was the best damn part of the show 😡)

Btw, here's the link to the whole thread 🤗

Nope i lied lmao one more part:

[harmony-livelaughlove]

A Brief Look Inside My Depression

Depression can be compared to someone drowning with an ankle weight trying to swim up to the surface for a fresh breath of air but it never comes. It’s like the weight of the world is on our shoulders and there’s no help. Breathing with a pile of rocks on our chests while the thoughts keep running in circles tricking the mind into believing that all those terrible things that are said to us and sometimes even our own thoughts are true.

Ugly, heavy, fat, nerd, geek, weak, worthless, waste of space, and it's like clockwork one bad thought turns into a ball rolling around knocking the brain around and then the downward spiral starts but never stops. I have changed. There have been days where I wake up and cry or don't move for hours and hours just watching the day go by. Watching the people go by hearing things that are never said because it's all in my head, “that outfit looks bad,” “ waste of space,” “ worthless,” “good for nothing,” and so many more it just makes me wanna close the door, go back inside and hide. I have changed. Going home and after a long day of wearing an invisible mask caring for everyone, listening to everyone, talking to people who probably don't even care but we still do it because it's good to know that at least someone appreciates us. Walking through the bedroom door and laying on the bed motionless thinking horrible thoughts, I don't deserve to live, I can do better, I mean nothing, nobody cares whether I live or die. Sitting in the shower with the music blared high watching the water cascade down like a river thinking I don't deserve to be here, and taking that shiny iridescent razor blade hoping to feel a release of pain line after line word after word slice after slice silently sobbing and screaming hoping somebody will hear but nobody does. Then the world stops as the blood runs down my arms and legs loving the pain fixated on how blood mixes with water thinking nobody will know. After the first time one turns into twenty, twenty turns into forty, and then forty  turns into one hundred and it's just like children on Halloween trick or treating, when does a single piece of candy satisfies someone that's right it never does . So it escalates into something more, carving and scratching words into my body hoping it will make everything feel better but it wont. I have changed. Day after day year after year life goes on and so does the addiction of self harm and wanting to release that pain no matter what object  it may be razors, knifes, lighters, biting my lips so hard they bleed, and even silently hitting myself hoping that it will be enough but we know it won't be.  No one finds out about my silent screams for help and why… because nobody cared anyway. I have changed. Self harm after a while intensifies and it turns into drinking and smoking and basically doing anything to numb the brain to stop the dark thoughts and drink after drink, drag after drag,and puff after puff and nothing is the same again years go by and no one ever realized all the pain and trauma I was going through not even myself. Nothing makes sense until help somehow finds a way whether it's a friend or even a faint whisper in the wind but the only person who can make a change is us. I made those changes. I stopped hurting myself. I found the light of my life who helped me get better and quite frankly he still is. To move on from the past all it takes is wanting to make those steps to get better no matter how difficult it may be. I know it's hard. I took the steps no matter how many times I didn't want to but we have to push and keep going no matter how many times life knocks us down we have to get back up again, we don't surrender we are better than that. I have changed. Everyday is a struggle especially when depression takes over the mind, body, and spirit of a person but remember it doesn't go away its always there we just have to keep fighting day by day. Despite being better I still have thoughts where I think I'm not good enough or beautiful enough but I am and I know that now. Find a light in all the darkness, no matter who or what it is, talk to them, let them help in ways we can’t help ourselves because everyone  needs someone to help pick us up when we are down. Life is hard and things happen but the main thing is accepting help, being the voice that was never there, breathing without the thoughts slowly draining all  the life away, and accepting the progress of getting better. 

I have changed.

[theshireisburning-so-mordoritis]

I have a kind of angsty request for a din x reader if ud like it?

What if the reader maybe a hunting partner or smth avoids looking at din bc they dont like seeing their reflection (insecurities yay!) in his armour but din thinks its bc they don't like him and then somehow he finds/works it out idk

Do with it what u fancy <3

Like I See You

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Angst. Insecurities. Self-loathing. Reader spiralling. Reader's parents are arseholes. Protective Din. Soft ending.

A/N: This asks has been in my inbox for so long whilst I've figured how exactly I wanted to approach this and then whilst I re-wrote what I had about 20 times until I was finally satisfied. Shoutout to the wonderful @acourtofsnakes who read through when I wasn't sure I was doing a good job and had to put up with being sent alot of snippets along with the caption "does this make sense?" Ily my friend and I couldn't have done this without you.

It’s one of those days.

The days where your mind decides to be your worst enemy and spits insults like acid - firing up each and every insecurity you’ve ever felt in rapid succession like a never ending horror reel in your brain whilst you stare at the mirror.

And shutting your eyes doesn’t work. The image lingers - imprinted - distorted - your mind turning it to something monstrous to fit the words that blaze incriminatingly across your features.

It’s the type of day where you compare yourself to everyone that goes by even though you know you’re only feeding the parasitic thoughts behind your self loathing behaviour. But you can’t stop. You can’t snap yourself out of it with kind affirmations no matter how hard you try, mantras like I am enough - I’m perfect just the way I am - they sound weak in comparison to the other things ramming against your skull. False even.

You can’t even distract yourself with the job you’re supposed to be doing, you're that unfocused, and of course Din notices.

He noticed the moment your mood shifted, the moment your smile became a tiny, hollow thing and the wild spark of your eyes dulled. He noticed the moment your shoulders sagged as if struggling under some colossal weight and he could almost sense you shrinking into yourself, trying to make yourself appear smaller, unnoticeable to everyone including him, even as the two of you leaned side by side against the sticky bar of a run-down cantina waiting for an informant.

Din just doesn’t understand why.

You were born to burn, not fade to shadow. You burned right through him - his armour and his unimaginably high walls that he thought he would never lower for anyone until you came along and showed him it was okay to depend on another every once in a while.

Before he had loathed the idea of sharing his work with someone - his home - but then he had found you.

You, who had stunned him from the first time he warily approached you. With your sweet expression and mischievous smile - the way your eyes glittered as light bounced off the dagger that you flipped so effortlessly in your hand. You who had immediately launched into a vividly detailed plan of how you and him could slip into the bounty’s hideout and rip it apart from within from the moment he reluctantly had suggested he might need some help.

You had been glorious, destruction in your veins and blood streaked across your face - your neck - your bruised knuckles as you sunk a blade into one man's spine and twisted. Together, they had broke against the bounty’s muscle with the force of a tsunami and by the time there was no one left - no one except the cowering heap that you dropped at his feet with a warm, buttery smile - Din was fucking starstruck.

He’s remained that way ever since. His awe twisting - blooming - into something that takes his breath away even when he watches you do the most mundane things. Every move you make seems to hold a beauty to it - a whisper of power - something unique he can only ever link to you that makes his heart seize behind his ribs.

And he can’t understand why it feels like he’s now watching that flame that burns within you go out before his very own eyes. Why you’re trying to make yourself invisible and refuse to meet the dark gaze of his visor even though he knows you can sense his eyes on you.

'What’s wrong?” He prods quietly.

You sigh then, a flicker of something pained passing over your features before you can hide it. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

"You’re a terrible liar.”

"And you’re not usually this fucking nosy.” You snap, muscles tensing, still refusing to spare him even a single glance. “I said I’m fine, Mando. Drop it.”

His brow pinches in a frown, eyes narrowed to slits as he lets your sudden burst of anger crash against him. Tasting the defensiveness and frustration brushed through it. He knows this. He’s all too familiar with becoming aggravated when he doesn’t know how to get shit that’s bothering him off his chest, the way he would allow it to bleed out through rage or violence because trying to form it into words made him feel foolish.

It seems like you’re both similar in that way, maybe you don't need him trying to gently coax it out of you.

Maybe you need a fight to let it all come pouring out.

**

You’re furious by the time he’s dragged you into the tiny bathroom. Baring your teeth like a snarling beast as you yank your wrist from his tense grip.

The contact had thrown you. Your heart stopping before it broke out into a chaotic gallop that you could almost believe would be heard by the Mandalorian as he took an intimidating step closer.

The blank slate of his visor had bore into you and you had felt it so excruciatingly - the weight of his assessment, the crushing force of your own insecurities as he crowded you. Close enough that everything you considered a flaw was laid before his eyes in startling clarity and reflected back at you in the mirror sheen of his helmet.

It made your stomach churn, anxiety crawling through your chest, an icy hand that winds around your neck and grips tight until his sudden touch had shattered its hold.

"Come with me.” He’d growled.

And temporarily stunned, you’d gone. Stumbling to keep up as he all but dragged you away from the roaring noise of music and clashing conversations to a room so quiet you could hear your blood rushing in your ears as your surprise gave way to anger.

"What the fuck are you doing?” You hiss, ripping away from him as he slams the door closed behind him. “We’re supposed to be waiting for someone.”

You make to push past him and he doesn't budge an inch, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he looms over you. An immovable wall of solid beskar. “We’re not doing anything else for this job until you tell me what’s going on with you.”

You glare at him, fists clenched tight at your sides “I said it was nothing.”

"And like I said, you’re a fucking terrible liar.” He shoots back.

Why do you even care, you want to scream. There’s a fierce energy building inside you, the volatile kind - self-destructive - born from too many emotions spinning through your head. You try and focus on the steady drip of the faucet to will it down - counting specks of mould on the worn tiles - how many times the light can flicker in between each uncomfortable breath you take.

"It doesn’t matter.” You grit, attempting to assert some kind of authority of the situation. “All that matters is that we have a job to do and we’re wasting time.”

It doesn’t work.

"No. We’re out. I’m calling it.” He advances on you slowly, his tone creeping towards irritation at the stubbornness of your denial. “You’re too distracted, lost somewhere in your own head. You might not give a shit that it could get you killed but I do.”

Suddenly there’s a wave of tears building - burning behind your nose - those nasty little voices purring through your skull as you gape at him.

Useless.

Can’t even do the one thing he keeps you around for, your job.

Why would he ever look at you the way you wish he would when all you are is a constant hindrance to him.

And then you get defensive, that energy bursting hot and fast through your blood before you can slam it down.

"You don’t get to make that decision for me Mando.” You snarl, swatting away his outstretched hand that reaches for you when expression threatens to crumble. “Don’t! You don’t have to keep pretending you care, I know I’m dispensable, if I die you can get another partner anywhere.”

He reels back as if you’ve struck him. “You really think I’d do that?”

"Why not! It’s not like I’m special is it? There’s heaps of other hunters out there, one’s more skilled - more reliable - probably easier on the eyes too.” You laugh humourlessly, eyes stinging with salt as you begin to pace. Ignoring the gentle lilt of your name that he tries to offer as a grounding force, something to bring you back to him when you’re clearly beginning to spiral.

"Hell you could replace me right here and now if it’ll make your life easier.” You babble. “Just think of all the credits you can rake in, not having to put up with my shit anymore.”

Your breaths are starting to come quick and shallow and before you can say anything else Mando is immediately in front of you - his hands snatching at your shoulders before he drags you into a bone-crushing hug.

You struggle against it for a moment - a fighter down to the last possible second - and then you fall apart. Harsh, ugly sobs wracking your frame whilst his gloved hand smooths over your hair, his helmet pressed to your temple as he makes soft mouthed sounds to try and comfort you.

He waits until your cries quieten down, until the quake of your body lessens to a light shudder and then he tilts his head to look at you. “Look at me. Look at me - mesh’la - please.” He murmurs.

You shake your head. You don’t want to see how pathetic you look, can’t bear the thought of what will stare back at you in the reflection of his beskar.

"Please.” He repeats.

You bury your face closer into his cowl, croaking “I can’t.”

There’s a beat of silence - disrupted only by the rhythmic drip drip drip from the faucet. And then he’s sighing - a desperately sad sound that twists something vital in your chest until you're sure you’ll feel a snap.

"Can you tell me why?” He murmurs, hesitance bleeding through him as you stiffen in his arms and he swallows thickly. “It’s not just now is it, you haven’t been able to look at me in days and if it’s because of something I’ve done - if I’ve made you feel this way - then I need to know. I need to make it right, because I can’t lose you.”

Oh - oh no - he thinks it's his fault.

Your throat closes up and for a moment you feel like you could cry all over again. He carries a guilt that has never been his to bear and it wounds you in some way - that this man who has only known you for such a short time takes your happiness so personally that he would beg to right a wrong that he’s not even sure he himself had made.

He says that he can’t lose you like he refuses to entertain a scenario where you’re not by his side and you don’t even realise that you’re practically crushing him to you in another fierce embrace until you feel the gentle weight of his helmet resting against the crown of your head.

"It's not you Mando." You blurt, a soft flutter brushing through your chest when he squeezes you tight as his body sags with relief. But only seconds later he stiffens again and you know he’s heard it. The implication. It’s not you. There’s someone else.

You know he’s worked it out by the sudden change in how he holds you - the subtle shift from comforting to protective - his body all but curling around yours.

He growls. “Who.” And you shudder.

You need to explain and fast before he decides to storm out of the bathroom and track down everyone who’s come into contact with you in the past few days. This job you’ve been on had required a lot of stealth so as to not tip off your target and if you were going to pick up where you left off after everything then the last thing you needed was your Mandalorian going on a vengeful rampage.

He lets you untangle yourself from him reluctantly, follows like a shadow when you point to a spot on the floor and state lamely. “We should probably sit for this.”

**

You can feel his eyes on you as you slide down the wall, as you fold your legs only to stretch them out in front of you not even a moment later. He’s not stupid, you know that, you know Mando is wisely giving you the time you need - refraining from pushing whilst you try and get your head together under the guise of making yourself comfortable on the grimy floor.

When you’re as ready as you think you’ll ever be you take a deep breath to begin but suddenly find yourself hesitating.

Were you really going to tell him? Could you let every sad little truth pour from you when you've spent so long plugging it up, shoving it down. Building a damn in your mind and your heart to keep it from making a mess for those around you.

Hunters were meant to be strong - an undeniable, deadly force. They didn't do insecurities - self-doubt - weaknesses. At least that's what you'd always been told. It's the impression you got from every one you ever met, including Mando.

So how could you tell him that you were haunted by all of them. That every now and again they ripped into you and made you feel like your worth was less than nothing. How could you lay yourself emotionally bare like that and expect that he would still look at you the same after?

…Except hadn't you already? You had spiralled before his very eyes. You had screamed and cried and shattered to pieces and yet… there had been no judgement.

There had been nothing from him except comfort and patience. The press of his body against yours as he held you like you were infinitely precious - like he wished nothing more than to be a barrier against all these things he was clueless about except for the fact they were trying to hurt you.

"Did you know I always wanted to be a hunter?” You ask so suddenly that he jerks, surprised.

It makes you smile when he softly shakes his head , when he shifts from his relaxed position against the wall and tilts his body towards yours as you offer a rare glimpse into the life you had before him.

"I thought it sounded like the coolest job ever.” You recall. “Getting paid to chase down bad people and learning how to use a shit load of weapons? What more could I want? And it turned out I was good at it, better than a lot of other things I’d tried to force myself into growing up.”

He makes a soft noise of agreement - like he gets it - and your lips twitch. “When I returned home after a really long time of taking pretty much every job that came my way, I thought my parents would be proud. I thought they’d be happy I had made some kind of a life for myself and that I wasn’t struggling for money like they had worried I would when I decided to make my own way instead of relying on them.”

You close your eyes as the memory resurfaces. “They weren’t. My dad basically said I was no better than a vulture, feeding off other people’s misfortune, but my mum…”

Your voice cracks and you swallow hard, fingers picking at a still healing wound on your hand before a gloved one stops you. Silently lacing thick fingers through your own as you struggle not to sob.

“My mum told me I had ruined myself. My face and my body. I had forgotten how obsessed she could be with our family’s image and legacy until she told me that no one would want someone who was covered in scars or who’s nose or teeth weren’t perfectly straight because they’d been damaged too many times fighting with bounties."

He sucks in a breath and you can feel it. His rage.

It pours from him in waves as he visibly bristles beside you, drenching his voice when he rasps your name and you have to hurriedly continue. Shoving the rest of the story out of you because if you stop and let yourself wallow in the emotions clawing at the pair of you then you may never fully get the weight of it off your chest.

"I told her I didn’t care.” You spit. “That if my appearance bothered people that much then maybe they were the type of people I didn't want to be around. And it had been the truth, I fucking meant every word.”

"But then I started noticing the way some people would look at me, the way they’d be scrutinising my face or my hair or what I was wearing and I’d hear her voice in my head again.” You don’t realise you’ve trailed off, gone distant, until the soft pressure of Mando’s thumb drawing circles on your hand brings you back.

"I started wondering if they thought the same as her when they looked at me too and then it was like I couldn’t stop. Eventually it happened enough that when I was looking at myself, sometimes I started to think it too.”

His fingers tighten around yours, the soft, aching sigh of “Cyar’ika” slipping through the modulator wrapping around the pain in your chest.

You sniff and your voice comes out thin - watery. “There’s days where I still hear it and when I look in the mirror, or something reflective like your armour, it’s all I can see. But at least I’m still a good hunter right, I’ve got that left? Only, today I completely fucked that up too. So when I can’t look at you Mando, it’s not because you’ve done anything to hurt me or piss me off, it's because when I do, all I can see is how much I disgust myself.”

There’s silence between you as he digests everything. It stretches out and allows your thoughts to wander with it - undecided if what you feel after all that was said is relief or something else. It’s nice that you’ve been able to talk about something that has pained you for so long but now Mando has another piece of you that no one else does - the part of you that is most vulnerable - and you don’t really know what to do with that.

"They don’t deserve you.” He mutters suddenly, so quietly that you almost had to question if you’d simply been hearing things.

You frown. “Who?”

He has your hand in his lap now, cradling it in his larger one as he traces nervous patterns with the other. His voice is steady however, utterly serious. “Your parents, the people who give you those looks. Anyone who can look at you and not see how incredible you are.”

Your chest spasms and you look at him in surprise before your lips attempt to curve into a weak imitation of a smile.

"I appreciate you trying to make me feel better Mando but…”

"Don’t do that.” He chastises you gently. “Whatever voice is telling you right now that you aren’t worthy of being told what I’m about to say to you, I want you to tell it to shut the fuck up and listen to me.”

You snort and the way he tilts his helmet in your direction makes you pretty sure he’s currently got his eyes narrowed at you, an expression on his face that would probably say if you don’t listen, I’ll find a way to make you. You nod for him to continue.

"You are incredible.” He reiterates. “You chose to make something of yourself when you could have had an easy life and you fucking excelled at it. You’re one of the best hunters I’ve ever seen even on your off days and you’ve saved my ass more times than I’d like to count.”

You murmur a sly seven and quicker than you can react he pinches your thigh. A yelp bursts from your throat followed by a shaky laugh and it’s a quick reprieve from the way the pride in his voice was making your ribs constrict.

"You’re a genuinely good person, I’ve never seen you turn away a single person who’s come to you for help and you constantly go out of your way for people. Even those who probably don’t deserve it, like me.” He sees the way you open your mouth to argue and quickly holds up a hand to stop you, shrugging. “I was an asshole when we met, don't deny it.”

He had been. But you had sensed that there was something underneath it all. That there was more than met the eye when it came to this particular Mandalorian and you had been intrigued. And also right.

He shifts next to you and then there’s the brush of buttery-soft leather at your jaw. Hesitant fingertips tilting your face fully towards him as his helmet hovers just above your forehead and you gulp.

"Mando…” You whisper.

"Your mother called you ruined but that’s not what I see when I look at you.” He breathes and you tremble as he palms your cheek. “Every part of you is beautiful and there is nothing that black eyes, bruises, broken bones and scars can do to take that away. They only add to it. They prove that you’re a fucking warrior. That you’ve lived and fought and survived everything the galaxy has had to throw at you. How can your body be ruined when its remained strong and kept you alive despite the hell you’ve been through?”

Something breaks inside you - you’re crying and you don’t even realise it until Mando’s other hand leaves yours to gently swipe away the tears with both thumbs.

It’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to you and it seems to highlight the fucking number that those words from your mother have done on you - the fact that you have no idea how to take what Mando has said. How you're supposed to believe it.

But you want to.

You desperately want to believe it so you can drown out the poison in your head with it. Take all those pretty words and lock them safe in your heart for when you next need them.

And unsurprisingly, thanks to how adept you've become at reading the other, Mando instantly catches on to your internal struggle.

"You don't have to believe me right now." He tells you softly. "I know it won't magically make everything go away and you'll suddenly see yourself the way I see you."

He leans back and pulls you with him, tugging you into his chest - the cold kiss of beskar soothing beneath your tear-stained cheeks - as his arms wrap around your shoulders and waist. His chin notched at your crown and the venomous voice in your mind more quiet than it had been in days as you eased into his comfort.

"But one day you will and until that happens I'll gladly be there to remind you as many times as you need me to."

You choose to believe that, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips as you lift your head from its place buried in his neck, to place a soft kiss to the cheek of helmet and whisper. "Thank you Mando."

You choose to believe that you'll always have him by your side. That the ugly words staining your memories will fade eventually.

That one day you'll see yourself as the warrior you've always been.

And for now that's enough.

Main taglist: @autumnleaves1991-blog @ecuadorlady @readsalot73 @acourtofsnakes @justanotherblonde23 @tiffanyblew @alexmarie29 @simsiddy @dihra-vesa @gingerbreadandpaper @sleep-tight1 @prettylilhalforc @mstgsmy @wildmoonflower

Pedro Taglist: @outlawedmando

[blooming-cecilia]

im very sleepy rn but im still BRAINROTTING unfortunately SO sleepy venti hc rambles that spiral out of control yet again

- deep sleeper. my guy just straight up slept 500 or so years and only got up bc his bestie needs him. he will sleep through anything and everything, just straight up goes into a coma everytime. you know those small "just 1 hour" naps you do but end up sleeping for 6 hours straight. that's venti. and 6 hours is already a short nap for him compared to his uh... centuries long naps

- with that being said. you'll have to be the lighter sleeper between you both. or else you'll both miss everything you're supposed to do the next day. if you're also a pretty deep sleeper. set up alarms every 5 fucking mins. force yourself to wake up because venti will absolutely NOT be waking you up. keep that alarm outta reach otherwise he'll knock it over and then you'll lose an alarm clock and maybe today's pay if u miss ur shift.

- he's a very stubborn lil guy, and even moreso when he's sleepy. will get you to stay in bed with him for "just 5 more minutes, love?" but NEVER EVER fall for it, it's a TRAP!!!!! he can sleep the whole day away and he's got a pretty strong grip on you that's really hard to shake off (remember: he's still an archon! he's more powerful than he looks, and helloooo, he's an archer, he's got pretty strong arms even without his status as an archon).

- you'll never really be sure if it's intentional or not, though. he's very mischievous, but i like to think sleepy venti throws most (if not all) of his teasing and mischief out of the window. if u try asking him when he's awake and he'll reply with some teasing remark and you'll think he was doing it on purpose but sometimes... he just looks really really sleepy enough so maybe his brain isn't awake enough for mischief just yet?

you'll never get a straightforward answer from him eitherway. brat likes to keep u on ur toes in the strangest of ways, for the strangest of reasons

- for all of his shenanigans, if you're looking for a good night's rest, venti Does make for a very very good cuddle buddy. 10/10 very snuggly, i just think he gives the best hugs in general, so naturally he's also a good cuddle buddy. he'll likely hum a little lullaby too, and perhaps indulge you on a bedtime story should u ask for it.

- loves any sleeping position that involves you being in his arms, but is particularly fond of either of you resting your head on the other's chest! it's incredibly comforting to him to hear the steady beat of your heart, he thinks of it like your own personal lullaby for him, a gentle reminder that you're right there and that you won't fade away. (if he's still feeling a bit cheeky, he might tease you and delight in the way your heartbeat speeds up.)

- i think. maybe. venti has trouble falling to sleep but when he does manage to fall asleep he's just completely passed out like i talked abt earlier. don't ask me why, maybe i'm self projecting, who's to say.

i like to think that he's either purposely prolonging his sleep (maybe he still has some energy he'd like to burn off first?) or he just has a lot of stuff in his mind that keeps him wide awake

keep in mind that he leads a rather lonely existence. for all his merrymaking and mischief in the day, all of it evaporates at night and all that's left is the heavy burden of his existence. he's lived for 2,600 years, maybe even more, and a lot has happened since then. not only that, but he's mondstadt's archon, and most of his own people are blissfully unaware that he's there.

and because he's really got no one else to talk about it with, naturally he'll keep it all on his head, thinking about it over and over and over until he can't even keep his eyes open anymore and he finally decides to go and sleep it off, hoping he won't end up dreaming about his troubles—not when he tried his best to stay up til he's too sleepy to.

(sidenote, and maybe i'm just a bit delusional. but is that maybe why he's eager to offer up his company to us, so he won't have to be alone and think about things?)

- okay i'll leave one more lighthearted soft one to recover from the accidental minor angst i just did aha whoops

- he's very fond of helping you prepare for bed. he'll do your bedtime routine with you, whether that's bathing together, helping you wash your hair and back, brushing your hair, skincare routine... even picking out your pjs for you (and he'll insist on matchies just because you'll both look so cute together!!!)

- it's very soft and intimate, mixed in with his signature playfulness. he just really enjoys taking care of the people important to him, most especially his beloved! it becomes one of his most favorite things to do with you <3

- as much as he loves taking care of you, return the favor as much as you can please! he deserves to be the one pampered too, and it's a surefire way to get him to melt and become putty in your hands.

(when you do, pay special attention to his hair. he really loves when you run your hands through it, and it gets him extra !!!! when you brush his hair for him and undo his braids so his hair can rest and breathe too.)

okay um. i think thats it. im at my limit and im close to passing out myself. does it make sense? idk and idc. gn to yall and to venti

[ragingpancake]

Menace 2 Society

Set during any time period when Rodney and the gang are on Earth. Possible The Return era. John's away and Rodney finds out a life of crime really isn't for him even though he's really good at it. ~1600 words. Crack.

Author's Note: a repost from my old livejournal, written for @popkin16 allllllll the way back in 2011.

The alcohol stopped burning several shots ago. Now, it slides down as easily as a glass of water (hold the lemon) so he downs the cheap whiskey and motions for another. He thinks the bartender is smirking as he slides the glass across the counter, so Rodney salutes him sloppily with two fingers. "To," he hiccups and burps. Half the liquid sloshes out of the tiny glass as he raises it in thanks. "T'you. For keepin' the good stuff comin'," he says. Or at least that's what he tries to say but it's possible he's speaking Ancient. He swallows and drops the glass back to the smooth bar top and leans over, pressing his face against the cool wood. It feels good and he wants to close his eyes and just sleep. It's not like anyone would miss him anyway.

He sighs and rubs his cheek against it and then he sighs some more. This has turned out to be a spectacularly shitty day. "Ca'I get one more?" Rodney asks. He wiggles a single finger in the bartender's direction, but he will not be swayed. "Sorry buddy. I think you've had enough." It sounds familiar and Rodney remembers even though he came here to forget. "Says who?" He asks, drawing himself up to full height. It's most likely ineffective because he can feel himself swaying on his bar stool. He'll be lucky if he doesn't topple right over into the floor like Humpty Dumpty and that's enough to set him off in a fit of manly giggles. He mumbles the nursery rhyme under his breath--at least, he means to--as he stumbles to his feet and wrestles his wallet out of his back pocket. His fingers, normally so deft and skilled, feel fat and totally useless as he opens the flap and wrestles a wad of money out. It isn't easy but eventually he's successful. He tosses a couple tens down on the counter. "S'been real, m'man!" He calls to the bartender and sweeps his jacket gracefully off the back of the stool. Well, he thinks he sweeps it gracefully off the back of the stool except he's not graceful even under the best of circumstances and drunk out of his mind doesn't really count. He almost falls, but he compensates and manages to keep himself upright. He's the fucking man. "Smooth, McKay," he congratulates himself and saunters--stumbles--towards the exit. Rodney has one hand on the doorknob when the sound of raised voices catches his attention. He whirls around, but when he stops, the room keeps going and it takes a minute until it stops spinning until for him to see the cause of the argument. A guy who reminds him vaguely of Ronon save for the awesome hair, growling a woman who's smaller than Keller. Normally, he would back out quickly before the giant spots him because this is more John's forte than his, but fortified by several shots of cheap whiskey, Rodney puffs up his chest and opens his mouth before his brain catches up. "Hey!" The woman shrinks back, seemingly trying to disappear under the table as the guy turns, narrowing his eyes at Rodney. "The fuck is your problem?" The guy slurs. Rodney hasn't thought this far ahead but he tries for a defiant slouch and glares. "You're m'problem! Maybe you should jus'... jus' shut up and yell at someone your own size." Had John, Ronon, Teyla or even Zelenka been around, they would have reminded Rodney to take his own advice because how many times had he yelled at poor old Miko over the years? The guy laughs and rounds the table, but Rodney doesn't falter. If anything, he stands--tries to--a little straighter and rounds his broad shoulders. There's a very teeny tiny part of his brain, the part that's going to be pissed at him for potentially damaging valuable brain cells when he's not so drunk, that screams at him to run, but he just holds his ground. "You wanna say that to my face?" The guy asks, so close that Rodney can smell what he had for dinner. It's almost enough to make him throw up. "I said you should jus' shut up." The guy reaches out and shoves  Rodney. The extra force is enough to knock him off his balance and he tumbles backwards into the coat rack. He's vaguely aware of the bartender yelling over to them, but he's annoyed now in a way that has nothing to do with idiot lab technicians. It's a struggle to get to his feet but he manages and this time when the guy swings, Rodney has enough foresight to duck. He'll thank Ronon later for teaching him to dodge the obvious blows and he'll thank Teyla for teaching him how to strike. His fist connects with the guy's nose and Rodney can feel the satisfying crunch under his fingers. "I did it!" He says, mildly surprised at actually landing a hit. The excitement doesn't last long though because he's only served to piss the guy off even more and this time when he swings, he doesn't miss. Rodney takes a couple of punches, but they're nothing compared to the beating he would have received before Atlantis, before Ronon

and Teyla, before John. They've taught him to use his bulk, his broad shoulders and big hands, to his advantage and while he doesn't escape completely unscathed, he's pleased to see that the other guy is no better off. Of course, he has exactly three point five seconds to celebrate before his arms are shoved behind his back roughly and held in place by the cool metal of handcuffs. A bar fight and an arrest all in one night? John would be so proud. And it's with that thought that Rodney doubles over and empties the contents of his stomach on the floor. --- There's nothing remotely exciting about being arrested, Rodney thinks mournfully as he shifts in the cracked plastic chair. He doesn't even get to go to real jail. Instead, he's being held in the processing room at the local police department, staring dumbly at the back of the officer's head. He's slouched down in a computer chair, playing Solitaire. Rodney wonders what it means about local law enforcement when they can't even win at that. He wisely keeps this thought to himself. "Don' I get a phone call?" He asks. His head is starting to ache and while he's sure he's already thrown up everything he's eaten in the last year and a half, he still feels like he's going to be sick. He really just wants Carter or hell, even Daniel Jackson to come get him so he can go home and sleep for a month. Or at least until John comes back. "Nope," the officer drawls and that's the end of that. Well okay then. He slumps miserably in his seat, handcuffs clinking the metal rail he's attached to. He really just wants to go home. Not home home but Atlantis home where everything was good and John wasn't being stupid and gallivanting off to another planet in the Milky Way with his brand new team. Without Rodney. Apparently, alcohol was counterproductive because while it was supposed to make him forget, it's all he can think about. He's pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a quiet click and when the door opens up, Rodney can hardly believe his eyes. "Hey buddy," John greets, smiling lazily like Rodney isn't handcuffed for a reason that doesn't involve kinky sex. "What are you doin' here?" "Bailing you out," John says easily. "And really? A bar fight? What were you thinking?" "I was amazing," Rodney says, smiling despite himself. He goes to stand and then remembers he can't exactly go anywhere, so he flops down into the chair and sighs loudly. "John?" "Yeah buddy?" "Can we go home now?" John just grins. --- By the time they make it to Rodney's apartment, Rodney's ready to seriously pass out. He's exhausted and his face is hurting from where that Neanderthal's fist connected with it, but mostly, he's just so happy John is back that he wants nothing more than to get upstairs, get naked and sleep for a month. This time with John. It's a chore to get out of the car and up the stairs, but when John finally shoves the apartment door open, Rodney stumbles in gratefully. "You left me," he accuses halfheartedly as he pulls his shirt over his head with clumsy hands, throwing it onto the back of the couch. "Big jerk. S'your fault, y'know." "It's my fault you got arrested?" "Yes," Rodney sighs. John doesn't argue; he grabs the shirt from the couch and then steers Rodney into the bedroom and Rodney is positive that he's stifling a laugh when he face plants onto the bed. "Turned me into a hardened crim'nal. S'all your fault," he mutters, muffled by the mattress. "A hardened criminal, huh?" "You make me crazy." "I feel the same way about you," John says fondly. The bed dips under John's weight and a second later, Rodney finds himself cuddled up against John's side. He presses his face against John's neck and breathes in his scent. "Don't go 'way anymore, 'kay?" "I'm not going anywhere," John promises. "Especially after this. Who knew a few hours apart would send you spiraling downward into a life of crime?" Rodney just nods solemnly and snuffles quietly against John's neck. "'M such a menace to society," Rodney mutters. John laughs his horrible donkey-laugh and

Rodney feels fond lips against the top of his head. "You're a menace alright. Get some sleep, McKay. I have a feeling you're gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning." Rodney's already fast asleep.

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

Comfort by the Creek.

I randomly wrote this one day. Its just a little comfort thing. Very soft and gentle giant. May or may not have been influenced by my desire to be comforted by a giant, while I was thinking back on my childhood. So... a little warning for some of the words said, cause damn they hurt to hear. (it goes by quick though)

It was a normal and beautiful day, where the birds sang, and a soft breeze flew through the air. Nicole was outside sitting on a rock looking out over the small creek that ran behind her parent’s house. She wasn’t feeling the best, her parents had yelled at her once again for “Being lazy” and “Not doing what she was told” when she just had brain problems. Her brain wasn’t the same as the rest of her family’s brains, it worked differently. But they’d never understand. Whenever she tried to tell them or explain to them how her head worked, they would shout at her and tell her, “You are choosing to be this way. You are sinning against God’s will by choice. You need to fix yourself and stop with these silly excuses!”

She was just so tired of it all. Tired of having to explain herself only to be ignored or dismissed. Not only that, but it seemed whenever she explained herself, her family would listen for two days and completely forget what happened and just go back to how things were before. I don't want to go back to the past. Nicole thought looking off into the distance. She was tired of trying. She just wanted someone to listen to her, without judging her, without forgetting what she said later on. Who would listen to her though? No one ever listened, and even when they did...it was like they didn't care or completely misunderstood what she was saying. Some offered advice, but she'd heard it all already. She already knew their suggestions wouldn't help her, she tried them already. Nicole just wanted to be heard and comforted. Was that too much to ask?

Nicole sighed while staring into the water, tears threatening to fall out of her eyes. She wiped them away before they had the chance to fall, but that didn’t stop her shaky breath from rattling through her body. I don't want to cry, please. I'm so tired. Her brain kept repeating her family’s words, and she felt the spiral of anxiety start to overtake her as she brought her legs closer to her.

Just before she was about to finally break, a loud crack was heard throughout the woods. Nicole’s head shot up; her tears choked in her throat. She glanced around the woods, focusing her ears to the area, trying to figure out where the snap came from. Then a low thump was heard behind her. She spun around only to face the feet and legs of a giant. Nicole started to look up only to be met with the sun’s glare in her eyes. Covering the sun, she saw the face of the giant. They had blond hair and bright blue eyes that were filled with…concern? The giant slowly started to crouch down, and as they did; Nicole’s heart was pounding out of her chest. From the crying, the break down, and now this? She was getting overwhelmed.

“hey…um…are you…uh…okay?” asked the giant.

Nicole looked into the giant’s eyes, she tried to speak but her words were caught in her throat. So instead, she just shook her head no. The giant then fully sat down and lowered themself to her level.

“oh…um…do you want to talk about it?”

Nicole looked up and nodded but pointed to her throat while trying to croak out some words.

“oh…you can’t talk?” She shook her head no and tried to speak, only for a small noise to come out.

Nicole focused as hard as she could before croaking out “I ca..aan…it’s jus-“

The giant nodded. “so…you can, just not right now.” Nicole nodded. “Okay…um…do you want a hug or something?”

Nicole glanced up, with tears starting to spill from her eyes. Should she let this giant hug her? They looked concerned and like they actually cared about her. Why would they care so much though? She was a stranger and was tiny compared to them. They could have ignored her, and she wouldn’t have thought about it twice since, even people her own size seemed to ignore her. So why did this Giant stop and offer help?

Perhaps that’s why she nodded her head. The fact that someone so big wanted to help and even listen to her felt impossible, but made her feel loved. The giant hummed and slowly scooped her up from her rock. Their hands were gentle but a little shaky.

“Sorry, I’m…I’m not used to…doing this. I won’t drop you…I hope…uhhhhhh...ignore that last part…sorry…” The giant seemed nervous to hold her but determined to comfort her. They moved her close to their chest and carefully held her there. She listened to their heartbeat quicken as if they were anxious, but eventually it smoothed out along with their steady breath. That’s when Nicole, for the first time in years, finally let out an actual sob. She clutched the giant’s shirt and just cried. She was letting it all out to a complete stranger, she was letting her tears freely fall in front of someone. Once the tears had finished choking her throat, she was able to squeak out some more words.

“…they never listen…they nev-ver try to…th-they always do this…every time I t..try they sh-shut me down…” The giant hummed as if telling her to continue. “I thou-ught they’d change after confi-rmation fr-from a doc-octor….they did…for a while…but it seems like nothing really changed, like they didn’t learn…like they only pretended to listen and they think the medicine just…just fixes everything. But it doesn’t…I keep telling them that but...they don't hear me...it feels like no one even cares.”

The giant looked down at Nicole with a sad look and a tear in their eye, “I care…I care about everyone. I care about you. Yeah, I don’t know you very well, but…but that doesn’t mean I can’t get to know you. I’m sorry that you have to deal with those jerks….so ummm…sorry this is kind of awkward but um...how about we get to know each? maybe…uhh anyway my name is Phil…what is yours?”

“heheh my name is Nicole, and uh thanks…for just listening.”

“No problem…uh…if you ever need to talk more…ummm you can always talk to me…if you want…” Phil looked away a little embarrassed.

“heh, yeah I’d like that…um and if you need to talk…I’ll be there for you as well.” Nicole smiled and Phil smiled back, “umm, but I think I'll be okay for now. Anyway you want to enjoy the calming atmosphere?”

Phil slowly leaned back against a large tree, keeping a hand on Nicole, and letting out a sigh that rustled Nicole’s hair.; “Yeah, we can enjoy the atmosphere. Watch the clouds, creek, etc.” Nicole nodded as she turned to face the creek. Both of them sat there in silence just listening to the wood’s natural sounds and Nicole listened to the gentle heartbeat of someone who actually cared.