#like. it came out of my own brain! i’m used to it! idk how else to describe it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

readerthatreadsss · 1 year

Text

Sweet Fantasy | Dean Winchester

GIF by born-to-be-his-baby88

(gave myself an actual pat on the fucking back for finding this gif like y'all are gonna see how perfect it is in a second!)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem! reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Dean won't eat his vegetables...until you offer to cash in on a very recent fantasy of his, that is.

Warnings [18+ MINORS DNI]: P*rn w/ some solid plot action actually, a bit of domestic fluff sprinkled in, reader and Dean are married (don't know if that's a warning but you should know?), reader dresses up in a sexy Zorro costume with the hat and mask included, handcuffs (Dean receiving), mentions of a safeword but not used, fingering/masturbation (reader receiving), oral sex (brief Dean receiving), a whole lotta teasing (Dean receiving), p in v sex (cowgirl, missionary), unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you fuck her silly!), dirty talk, switch! Dean, switch! reader, very vocal Dean, brief choking (Dean receiving), creampie.

A/n: Hey! Sorry for disappearing for 3 months again...So classes finished almost 2 months ago and I've been wracking my brain about what to post. I tried finishing some of my drafts and it just wasn't working for me idk. Then, like any normal person, I was randomly watching some SPN bloopers this morning and it got to a scene where Dean said sometimes he wants to get spanked during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask and my brain ran with that shit IMMEDIATELY. Now, I'm so sorry I couldn't actually write him actually getting spanked without it sounding corny and just wrong to me? But I did write all of this in 7 hours without stopping so I'm honestly proud of it regardless.

Enjoy...

It was a Sunday evening in the bunker, meaning you were responsible for dinner. With that task came the additional task of getting Dean to eat whatever vegetables you cooked without complaining and engaging in a rant that would end with him calling himself the “meat man”.

It’s not that you were concerned about Dean's weight or appearance, after 7 years of marriage you were confident that there was nothing in the world that could make you love Dean Winchester any less. But having a steady diet of beer, beef, and pie was a surefire way to kill any man of Dean’s age faster than any monster or demon.

And God knows you’d do anything to ensure he didn’t die before his time.

Hell, you have before.

Which is why you made Dean agree to eat a side of only vegetables with whatever meat he wanted at least once a week. This week it was string beans and sautéed mushrooms, aka his least favorite vegetable.

But you didn’t have the time to make the 45-minute drive to the grocery store earlier that day so he would have to deal.

Or you wish he would deal…

“Mushrooms? Baby come on,” he complained when you placed his plate before him.

“Hey, it’s all that was left in the fridge. Eat up,” you shrugged, placing a kiss on the crown of his head.

“You know, we could always do no vegetables,” Dean offered with a wide grin.

You chuckled and used a finger to squish his stubbled cheek. “You wish, Winchester.”

He sighed in defeat and turned to pick up his fork.

You looked to make sure Sam was out of earshot before leaning down to where your lips grazed Dean’s ear. “Tell you what, if you eat those vegetables I’ll do that thing you told me about…later” you whispered.

Dean’s eyes lit up immediately, “The thing?” he harshly whispered.

You nodded with a smile.

“Costume and everything?” He made a gesture with his hands.

“Yup, I’ve been hiding the costume for weeks.”

“I’m game” Dean agreed, digging into the mushrooms first.

You turned away to share your own plate with a smile.

“I’m gonna go grocery shopping later,” Sam announced as he sat beside Dean with his plate. He met your eyes, “Anything else you forgot to put on the list?”

“Yeah stop at the liquor store and grab me a bottle of red? I ran out,” you answered sitting across from the boys with your plate.

Sam grabbed a pen and a piece of folded paper from his pocket and added it to his list, “Yeah, no problem. What brand again?”

You swallowed a piece of your chicken with a smirk. “I’m sure you already know seeing as you’re the one who emptied the bottle to the very last drop,” you addressed Sam.

His pen slipped from his grip, his green eyes widening to meet your narrowed ones.

“You drink red wine?” Dean pointed at Sam in disbelief as a laugh rumbled in his chest.

“How did you know?” He asked you, ignoring Dean’s quip.

“I saw you passed out in the library clutching the bottle the other night.”

“Listen Dean finished all the beer and it was the first thing I saw,” he defended himself.

“Oh, you’re getting more creative with your excuses. I'm impressed!” You gushed, sarcasm evident in your tone, “What was it again last week? ‘Oh Eileen wanted to taste some’ " you mimicked his gruff tone causing him to roll his eyes and Dean’s laughter to grow louder. “-when we all know that Eileen is a white wine type of gal.”

"I-" Sam tried to come up with a retort but eventually gave up. “Whatever.”

“Yeah pick up 3 bottles this time in case Eileen wants a taste,” you replied with a grin.

“Three bottles?!” He exclaimed.

“You aren’t the one paying for it, genius,” you reminded him, referring to the unlimited card Charlie hacked for you all those years ago.

“Yeah but I’m gonna have to lug it up here,” Sam mumbled as he stuck his fork into his chicken.

Dinner continued mostly in silence with Sam thinking about the two lousy trips he’d have to make between his car and the kitchen once he returns with the groceries, Dean thinking about the reward he’ll be getting for the vegetables he’s actually grown used to eating, and y/n thinking about all the ways she’s gonna make Dean squirm later.

~ ~ ~

Hours had passed since dinner and Sam was now on his way to the grocery store leaving just you and Dean in the bunker.

To say he was excited would be an understatement.

Dean first told you about this fantasy of his after a case you had months ago required you to take a trip to an adult costume shop to question the owner. It took mere seconds for the image of you in the very specific costume to cross his mind after laying eyes on the packaging.

You laughed at the idea when he told you and silently decided you would try and find the costume.

Of course, he didn’t believe you would actually indulge him but you were actually excited too. Costumes and toys weren’t new territory for you and Dean but they were few and far between with your unpredictable hunting schedules.

Dean now sat at the edge of your shared bed wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt waiting for you to return like you had promised.

But it had been almost 20 minutes since you left to get changed and his patience was wearing thin. He was seconds away from getting up and coming to see if you needed help or if you were even hurt.

Which you predicted would be the case.

So you had been standing out of sight by the doorway for less than a minute now waiting for him to try and leave.

“Damnit,” Dean eventually gave in to his worries and began to make his way to the door.

You smirked once you heard his determined steps drawing closer.

Dean’s eyes widened once you spun from your hiding spot against the wall to stand before him. “Looking for me?”

You watched his throat bob and his pupils dilate as he took in your full look.

Atop your head and face rested a sexy black Zorro mask and matching hat. You were also wearing a black sleeveless leather top that stopped in your midriff region and had strings tied between your breasts that allowed a whole lot of cleavage to be on display. The leather skirt that accompanied was low-waisted and stopped at your upper thigh, matching the black thong you were wearing beneath.

You had stretched the thin straps of the thong along your hips above the skirt for added flair.

In your right hand, you held a fake silver sword similar to the one Zorro held in the movies, and hanging from the left side of your skirt were two handcuffs ready and waiting to be used.

You were sex on knee-length boot-covered legs.

Dean felt himself growing hard already.

You bit your bottom lip at the way your husband’s eyes roamed your body, hoping the dark red lipstick covering it was as transfer and waterproof as the box advertised.

“You look...stunning,” Dean marveled. The model on the packaging of the costume didn’t come close to how it looked on your body.

Your heart swelled at the compliment before remembering the persona you had practiced for the night ahead. “Oh I know,” you took a step closer and leaned against the doorway. You pointed the sword in Dean’s direction. “Why are you still dressed, Dean?” you asked with furrowed brows and a smile.

A chuckle almost left your lips at the sight of Dean fumbling with his pant strings and tripping over his own legs to send the pajama bottoms flying over to a random corner while throwing off his t-shirt with record speed.

He stood before you in only his boxers, his enjoyment of your costume evident by the bulge in the center.

“Get on the bed.” You told him, your tone not excessively commanding but sexy enough to make him obey immediately.

“Yes ma’am,” he smirked, quickly sitting and sliding up to the headboard of the bed.

You walked further into the room and placed your sword down before climbing onto the bed and slowly crawling to where Dean sat. His green eyes followed your every move as you moved to straddle him, but not fully.

You then grabbed the two pairs of handcuffs attached to your hips and twirled them around your fingers. “How you feeling Dean?” you checked in, your hips hovering above his thighs, making sure to not touch his erection just yet.

“Oh, I feel great. Real great. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this great,” he nodded eagerly as you cuffed each of his hands to each bedpost, getting a face full of your boobs in the process.

"You sound nervous," you teased him, "Am I making you nervous baby?"

"Me? Nervous? Pfft!"

You scoffed, not believing him one bit. "What's our safe word?" you asked him gently.

Dean leaned forward as much as his restraints would allow to press a sweet kiss against your stomach. " 'Oklahoma', baby," he grinned.

You then let your clothed ass sink down on his covered erection. Dean groaned and tried to reach for your hips instinctively only to meet the restriction of the handcuffs. “I hope they aren’t too tight 'cause they’re gonna be on there for a while,” you nearly bust out laughing at the look Dean gave you.

“A while?” he repeated, dreading not being able to touch you at a time like this.

You shrugged, “If you behave I might change my mind.”

Before he could argue further, you leaned forward and connected your lips in a searing kiss. His breath was hot against your face as your lips drifted to his neck while your hands found themselves in his hair.

A breathy groan slipped past his lips when you nipped a specific spot beneath his ear lobe. “You’re so loud. Maybe I should’ve bought a muzzle,” you whispered in his ear teasingly, feeling his dick jump beneath you at your words. “I'll remember that next time,” you replied to his body's response.

“Baby, do you have any idea how amazing you look? ” Dean gushed, struggling against his restraints as you began to grind your hips against his covered cock.

You smiled and met his lips in a kiss once again. He slipped his tongue between your welcoming lips, allowing his taste to flood your mouth. You pulled away seconds later, nipping his bottom lip, and removed yourself from his lap.

He watched nervously, awaiting your next move while you scooted farther away from him along the bed. You slowly slipped off your boots, your confidence unwavering as you held Dean’s hungry stare.

He watched you use a hand to hold yourself upright before spreading your legs open to reveal the lace thong covering your already-drenched pussy. “Are you about to..." he trailed off, jaw clenched as he spoke.

"Hmm mhm. And there is not a damn thing you can do about it...except watch," you slowly removed your thong and threw it at Dean’s lap. He immediately became hyperaware of the feeling of the wet lace draped over his dick.

You slowly brought two fingers up to your lips and sucked them even slower to coat them in your saliva and give Dean a show before bringing them down to where you needed them the most. You began slow ministrations against your aching clit, pulling moans from yourself that made Dean impossibly harder.

He took a deep breath at the sight, imagining his own fingers parting your folds and rubbing at your swollen clit.

“You are a menace,” Dean laughed in obvious distress, licking his dried lips. He couldn’t handle watching you touch yourself without being able to touch you any longer so he looked away, swallowing harshly at the sound of your wetness against your fingers.

“Look at me Dean,” you mewled, continuing to rub your pussy in small quick circles. He turned reluctantly, watching as you slowly pushed two fingers inside your dripping hole. “See this, baby? It’s all for you,” you said, melting into a moan when your fingers grazed a spot inside you that drew your orgasm closer.

“I gotta taste you, baby,” Dean pleaded, “Open these and let me taste you, please,” he rattled the handcuffs against the bedposts.

The pure agony in his voice had your fingers and breathing speeding up and soon your climax was approaching. Dean’s breathing picked up in response. “Fuck, Dean I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, pressing a thumb to your clit while your fingers kept working inside of you to bring you to the edge.

A thin layer of sweat appeared on Dean’s forehead as he watched you keenly. He bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, his self-control draining by the second.

Your eyes remained open and locked onto his, your moans growing louder and borderline pornographic. You were putting on a show and he was losing his mind.

“I’m cumming, fuck-“ you panted as your first orgasm of the night slammed into you and caused you to make a small mess on the sheets beneath you. Your body shook sporadically with aftershocks of your own work

Dean’s head hung low. “Jesus baby,” he huffed, his own voice strangled, “you’re trying to give me a heart attack aren’t you?”

You smiled as you crawled back up to sit on Dean’s lap, taking your thong and throwing them somewhere unseen. “Ehh maybe,” you replied coyly, straightening your hat and mask. “And since you behaved so well,” you reached a hand down to touch his clothed cock, “I think you deserve a reward,” you pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

Dean allowed you to pull his boxers off his body, watching you wrap a hand around his painfully erect cock. “Fuck,” he groaned at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him.

You slid down to where you could lay flat on your stomach between his legs and leaned down to briefly swirl your tongue around where precum was gathered at the tip.

“Take the hat off and look at me pretty girl,” Dean said.

You complied, throwing the hat off to the edge of the bed before diving down and licking his tip once again, but this time keeping your eyes locked onto his.

“Holy shit,” Dean groaned, his hips twitching upwards. You then opened your mouth and wrapped it around his length, slowly sliding down until your nose was nuzzled at the base, staying there for a few seconds before coming back up for air. “Hell yes, baby that's perfect,” he panted as you began sucking faster along his length, a few lone tears flowing from beneath the mask from the familiar stretch of his cock in your throat.

Your head continued to bob up and down Dean’s length for some time, drawing shallow moans of your name and grunts from him before you finally let up and pressed one last kiss against the side of his cock.

Dean’s chest heaved as you licked your lips and used a hand to wipe your face clean. “Goddamnit," he whined at your sudden stop, feeling his impending orgasm return to its hiding place.

You grabbed your previously discarded Zorro hat and placed it back on your head before hiking your skirt up to allow you more room to move your legs around Dean’s lap. “Can’t have you cumming before I’m done with you sweetheart,” you replied while untying the strings of your top and removing it.

The keys to the handcuffs dropped onto Dean’s lap from where you previously hid them in your top. You had honestly forgotten you put them there but it just presented yet another opportunity to get Dean all whiny and desperate, which was a rarity that you rather enjoyed.

“Oops would you look at that,” you exclaimed playfully, taking them up and dangling them in front of Dean’s eyes.

"Alright baby you broke me. Come on, just let me go, and trust me, I will make it worth your while,” Dean bargained with you.

"As enticing as that sounds," you paused and brought your hand up to caress Dean’s cheek before pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. You pulled away with a grin. “I love hearing you beg, so no,” you whispered against his lips.

Dean loudly groaned watching you gently place the keys down on the closest nightstand. “Shit,” he shut his eyes.

But they shortly shot open once you used a hand to grip his length and bring it between your dripping folds.

A pleased hum left your lips once the tip glazed your clit causing Dean to swallow harshly. “Aren’t you sick of teasing me,” he hissed.

Fuck no.

You used a free hand to grip the back of his hair. “Take a deep breath for me, Dean,” you told him, feeling his chest rise against yours soon after. And as it fell, you slipped his cock inside your entrance.

You slowly sank down onto his length until it was fully buried inside you, groaning at the welcomed stretch.

“I love those sounds you make for me,” Dean whispered against your lips.

“Oh you’re gonna be making some of those sounds too,” you smirked, clenching around him causing a sharp grunt to reach your ears.

You guided your hips up and down Dean’s length, riding him at a quickening pace. He jerked his hips upward to match your cadence drawing a gasp from your lips when his cock hit that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. “There you go baby,” Dean groaned, “you look so fucking good riding my cock.”

The hat and mask from your costume managed to stay in place as you slammed down on Dean’s cock repeatedly. And it was an image that he would never forget.

Your hand released Dean’s hair and instead found itself wrapped around Dean’s neck as you rode him faster. A whine that shot straight to your cunt escaped his lips when your fingers slightly tightened their grip around his throat.

You suddenly slowed down and instead began to grind your hips against his, moaning loudly when your clit grazed his pelvis. “I’m gonna cum again shit!” You threw your head back in obscene pleasure, releasing Dean's throat and holding onto his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Fuck yes. Use my cock to get off, sweetheart,” Dean urged you on before leaning forward to suck one of your nipples as best as he could.

This soon pushed you over the edge, your climax tearing a scream from within you as your hips faltered around Dean’s cock, your hat flying off your head once more. Dean relished in the way your cunt pulsed around him from your orgasm as well as the look of sheer pleasure that crossed your face at that moment. “You’re so beautiful,” he smiled up at you, meaning every word.

You kissed his forehead with a smile and reached for the handcuff keys. “I think I’ve tortured you enough,” you freed his right hand first, pressing a kiss against his wrist, then did the same to his left, “This is supposed to be a reward after all.”

Dean’s lips curved into a smirk at his newfound freedom. “Yes it is, sweetheart.”

A surprised yelp left your lips when Dean gripped your hips and flipped you onto your back. He grabbed your hat and placed it on his own head before sending you a wink. “And I’m not feeling rewarded just yet.”

You nearly came just from the sight of Dean hovering above you in only that hat. “We’re gonna have to talk about my sexy cowboy fantasy when we’re done here,” you raised a brow.

A low chuckle echoed from Dean’s chest. He reached up and tipped his hat in your direction, “yes ma’am.” He replied with a deep southern drawl.

Your pussy clenched instantly.

“That was hot as fuck,” you breathed.

“Thank you darlin’ “ he replied in the same accent with a wink.

You giggled before pulling him down for a kiss. He pulled away and touched the mask still wrapped around your eyes. “And thank you for doing this for me, baby,” he smiled down at you, “It was so so much better than I imagined.”

“It was definitely my pleasure,” you nodded happily, feeling his hands glide down your sides.

“Was?” He protested playfully. “The night is still young, sweetheart!” He threw your legs over his shoulder causing you to exclaim at the sudden move. He placed a kiss on each of your thighs and lined himself up with your entrance before entering you once again.

“FUCK” you cried out at the sudden intrusion, feeling your eyes well up with tears of pleasure in record time.

Dean pulled out and slammed into you once again, his grip on your legs tightening as he eased into a quick pace.

“YES-Dean holy shit,” you moaned, eyes quickly rolling to the back of your head and back arching up and off the bed as he fucked you with reckless abandon.

“How’s it feeling baby?” Dean said, bringing a hand down to play with your clit.

“So good, Dean, so fucking good,” you rambled, your skin buzzing with pleasure, “Harder, please, I'm almost there,” you found yourself begging.

“You gonna cum for me already pretty girl?” He sped up his slaughter on your cunt, "Maybe I should make you beg for it?" his voice was low and demeaning but only spurred you on more.

You shook your head adamantly while your hands fumbled around Dean's waist for a solid grip. So he simply released your legs and grabbed your hands before holding them down above your head, driving his cock into you even harder at this new angle.

“Dean!" you broke off into a strangled moan.

Dean’s lips attacked your open neck. “I wish we had neighbors so they could hear you screaming my fucking name,” he all but growled as the sounds of your moans and skin against skin plagued the air.

You came with a yell seconds later, your release coating Dean’s cock and the sheets. “That’s my girl. There you go baby,” he released your hands and held your face, guiding you down from your high.

Your hands gripped Dean’s hair harshly as you kissed his lips and his hips stuttered, his cum coating your insides soon after. You swallowed his grunts as his cock continued to leak and twitch inside you.

Broken pants befell both your lips in between sloppy kisses while your orgasms passed and your shared spend flowed between your legs. You eventually released his lips for air, “That was-“

“-Incredible,” he mirrored your thoughts, removing your hat from his head. Dean used a hand to remove your mask and brush a few strands of hair behind your ears once he moved to lie down beside you.

“Hi,” you grinned in awe of the man you called your husband. “Hey sweetness,” he grinned back, adoration evident in his deep green eyes.

Your cheeks flushed as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. He quickly grabbed his previously discarded t-shirt and used it to clean up the mess between your legs before throwing it in the laundry basket nearby.

You snuggled into his side once he returned to the bed.

“So uhh what was it you were saying about your cowboy kink?” Dean smugly asked after a few seconds.

“Goddamnit Dean,” you shamefully groaned into his side, gaining a chuckle from him.

ANDDD SCENE!

Hope it wasn't too bad seeing as I gave up on editing it like 75% through it.

Tbh I highly doubt more than 20 people are gonna see this because I have no idea how strong the Supernatural fandom's presence is on here, which also means that I don't know if anyone has used a plot like this one before so don't be afraid to let me know if that is the case and I will make changes as I see fit!

(Also let me know if you want a sequel one shot with sexycowboy! Dean and reader. Or feel free to make any other requests)

Reblogs, likes, and comments are ALWAYS appreciated :)

divider creds : @cafekitsune

282 notes · View notes

nyxx-nth · 4 months

Text

Ashamed to admit that just now when Cannibal by Kesha came on my brain immediately created a celebrity au where Jimmy is a controversial music artist and a string of high profile celebrity murders been happening lately….

Oh no wait, now I’m thinking of an entire au with other chars too—

Ghost is also a musical artist, being the lead singer in a band with Spooker, Colon, and Katrina (it used to be Ghost, Toast, and Katrina but a big fallout happened before any of them rose to fame that led to Toast leaving back to England and eventually becoming a model). I imagine Katrina as bassist, Spooker on drums, and Colon on guitar. Ghost used to be drummer, and Toast guitarist and lead vocalist, but Ghost took over vocals after his departure and Colon took over for Toast, with Spooker being a very last minute addition by chance when they heard how good he was and Katrina convinced Ghost having someone else on drums would leave him more time to focus on vocals and writing. Also, I feel like all of them would sing but Ghost is the one who sings most of the songs (also he can scream crazy good and I stand by that (also it’s hot af lmao)). Colon probably had mild experience in singing but has improved a lot since then, and Spooker had NO natural or learned singing skills going into the band and is still not quite up to par with his bandmates, but he’s improved /so/ much.

Toast would probably do modeling cuz, duh. But also he writes books and a lot of people won’t give them a chance because they think he’s just a pretty face but he’s actually a talented writer of supernatural mysteries. Also, more recently he got into acting and blew up on the big screen and prefers the acting gigs because he feels like he gets to showcase more of his skills and get more appreciation for them than he got in modeling.

Gavin probably is a stunt double for Toast. Besides that, I see him probably being Jimmy’s dealer (Jimmy does copious amounts of drugs he is never not on cocaine idk what to tell u /hj). He prefers to keep out of the actual spotlight of celebrity lifestyle, and instead reap his own benefits from it in the background.

Mary. Hmmm….. I feel like she needs something that’s not like, typical spotlight celebrity. I remember a certain someone (wink wink) talking about ballerina Mary… I think that’s actually perfect. She’s a skilled and renowned ballerina, but also, I think she figure skates. And does some modeling on the side—maybe how she met Toast? I’ll have to think more on it.

69 notes · View notes

squib-2006 · 1 year

Text

Dr pt2 spoiler warning

This was a fantastic set of episodes

• Kai and wyldfire are everything. Kai having to deal with someone who acts like he did in the earlier seasons is poetic justice and funny as hell.

• I also like how they kinda tried to explain why Kai seemed calm after sea bound and nyas seaifcation. I guess Kai meditating with wu would make him calmer. At least it confirms that Kai was upset (even if they didn’t show it)

•I am kinda upset that nothing from skybound was brought up with the Djinn. I personally don’t really like skybound but I still find that it could be used more than just oh yah that happened right wink wink. I mean we had to suffer through skybound for something right?

• I actually really liked sora and nyas whole plot with the Djinns curse. It was fun and had a nice conclusion.

• Coles return is great I love his little gang in the land of forgotten things. My favorite has to be the skeleton girl (I forgot her name probably cuz they only say it like 2 times) she’s funny.

• I do wish there was a scene where nyas like btw I found Cole and the other ninja react. I mean she does mention it at the end but no one except Zane has any real reaction.

• Beatrix going off the rails was really funny. It felt like someone gave a teen with daddy issues an insta death weapon.

• rapton switching sides kinda came out of left field for me. Like the guy isn’t the brightest bulb in the box I think it would be more likely for other characters to switch sides. Also how did he recover from being tased so quickly? Man was out cold and not two minutes later he was up and walking around.

• kinda felt that the whole being sucked into non existence should have had more lasting effects (totally not because I want to traumatize or brutally injure Kai no why would I want that /s) tho fake out deaths are pretty par for the course with ninjago, this one actually didn’t make me feel all that much cuz I knew the moment wyldfire got pulled in that this was a fake out. They wouldn’t kill one of there new characters that quickly.

•so wus just legitimately fudging dead. Never thought we would see the day when this old mad would just peace out. Also ghost wu legit looks like he’s slowly loosing his form or something cuz in the first half he appears with his full body but in the last scene he’s in he’s just a chest and a head. It might have just been a stylistic thing tho.

•I’m not mad jay only showed up for around 30 seconds (this just might be my bias tho cuz jays probably the ninja I care the least about, not that I hate him or anything he’s just not that interesting to me) it’s kinda refreshing for me cuz nya gets to be her own character for a bit and not be completely attached to Jay and Jay gets to take up less screen time (if I am being honest Jay had so much focus in the wild brain seasons it kinda got annoying to me personally) idk if he’s actually lost his memories or if that leak is wrong cuz it would make sense cuz he has not searched for the ninja (specifically nya cuz that man is a simp for his gf) Arin missing him by a second is hilarious to me.

•not sure about how I feel about Lloyd being the linchpin for the entire thing. Part of me thinks that it would have fit the shows themes better if all of them used their elemental powers or something else to power the cores to fix everything. But another part of me understands that Lloyd get main character privileges cuz he’s the son of ninjago god.

•still kinda frustrated that they are changing how elemental powers work. Originally they were from the first spinjitzu master, but the whole source dragon being the source (for lack of a better word) of the elemental powers, it completely retcons and nerfs the first spinjitzu master. It would have made more sense if they still came from the powers of the fsm and were gifted through the source dragons to people.

•the implication of the cursed realm merging with the rest of the realms brings up the question if the departed realm merged to? Does that mean no one can die??? Or is there some sort of force that still keeps the departed realm separated from the rest (like how the people in the land of the forgotten can’t leave) or can some dude just wander in to the departed realm and see like there dead grandma chilling with the fsm having tea or some crap like that.

•Lloyd going I forgot there are two of them now towards Kai and wyldfires antics is peak writing. And all the arson and explosions the two created is just beautiful.

•I think the Kai and wyldfire duo should be called like the arsonist or the kaboom duo

•THE HUGGG!!!! My boi was so happy looking when the tackle hug was done.

•I just cant get my brain to shut up about these two. They give off tired dad who sometimes gives in to his old chaotic ways he’s sworn he’s grown out of and living embodiment of chaos and fun daughter who drags her dad into crazy things.

Tdlr I loved this second half and had a few issues with it but it was still really good.

73 notes · View notes

kyberblade · 11 months

Text

Bring You Back (Din x Reader) - Back To You Halloween AU

A/N: You all can blame @fordo-kixed-rex for this. She asked me, “What would happen if there was an AU where the reader in BTY went Darkside?” And I said how dare you here’s what would happen and it went from there. I’ve been sitting on this for months. It’s been torture. The name is based off of a song that just clicked for it, Bring You Back by Gold Brother, LIIV and if you want extra emotional damage, put it on repeat while you read. I am not advising this for health and safety reasons. I’m not to be held responsible for any turmoil this may cause. You do so at your own peril.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Summary: The Darkside is always a temptation, even at the best of times…. What would happen if you ended up slipping further and further down a dark path? ….A path they couldn’t follow?

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. I know. I’m confusing. Welcome to my brain. Part of the Back To You Universe, so you’ll be kinda confused if you read it on its own, bc spoilers, but it can be read as a stand alone if you want. (Idk where exactly it takes place, but I know it’s after Part 19, sometime before or during TBoBF timeline that will be coming up in the sequel Close To Home.) Mando’a. Arguing. Mentions of saga typical violence. (See how frustratingly vague I was there?) It ends on a brighter note, don’t worry. It’s not all gloom and doom. I couldn’t do that to them. ……or could I? 😈

Word count: 2,326 (I know. What even is this drivel?)

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for the idea and seeing this through from start to finish. And @littlemisspascal and @what-the-heckin-heck for flailing on this with me as it developed. I really appreciate you guys. You make me smile a lot. 😁

Also, stay tuned at the end for some kick ass art by @fordo-kixed-rex. 👀 (You’re not prepared. I’m telling you now. Buckle up, children.)

Xxx

Din POV

It had been little things, at first. Just small things he’d normally not think twice about, but they started to make him take a closer look.

The way you’d look at an enemy.

At him.

His son.

It was icy, glazed over, and distant, yet fiery and ruthless all at the same time. It painted those under its gaze in shades of fear.

Of disdain.

With something close to death.

Din hated that last thought, but he’d been around enough of that in his life to know what it looked like. He knew death intimately. It was a close acquaintance. He’d brushed up against it time and time again, and each time it would kiss his cheek with a promised, soon, as he whispered back, not today.

He wouldn’t pretend to know the workings of the Force. It was still a mystery to him. But he knew you.

And this wasn’t it.

This was something else.

You were shadows. Shadows of what you were. Of yourself. A shell. Something wasn’t right. But like always, Din felt like he was looking at a sun when he’d stare at you for too long, so he could never look long enough to tell exactly what was off. He’d only get lingering impressions, spotted vision that left him open and vulnerable.

A rattled crate here. A broken box there.

A common thief just after a few credits left clutching their throat as the life was choked out of them by an unseen hand; their wide eyes peering over your shoulder, pleading with him through his visor for just an ounce of mercy, an ounce of forgiveness from this…. Hell they had found themselves in.

But what could he do?

It had been made clear time and time again you didn’t listen when he told you what to do. In fact, you came to resent it. I am not a tooka, you would say, he remembered fondly, smiling down at the painting in his hands.

He’d bought it for you once upon a time. A token. A promise. Though unspoken, it was his vow at the time to always make it back to you. Then it had been used as a threat against him, against you, that had propelled this whole adventure into motion. Until….

Now….

Now he looked at the painting that once symbolized home, a dream, and he saw…. A void. Nothing.

He sighed.

If this was the path you truly chose, then he had to choose his own. For the good of the child. Himself. And for you.

He’d confront you somewhere private. Some backwater planet. You’d always wanted to see somewhere green…. He just wished he’d gotten around to it sooner. Maybe then…. Maybe then you’d be happy about this visit, instead of what he expected, which was anger at him.

But he couldn’t keep waiting.

Couldn’t keep putting it off.

Din turned toward the ramp with another sigh. He knew this would break your heart.

He knew because his was already breaking.

Xxx

Normal POV

You looked around at the towering trees, smiling. Off in the distance between mighty boughs, a flicker of light…. Then another…. And another…. “Fireflies!” Despite your voice going up several octaves in excitement, you kept it hushed, hoping to not scare off the insects. But it turned out you didn’t need to worry about your voice, because as soon as you started toward them, they scattered, despite being a whole ships distance away from you.

Cocking your head, you tried to move towards another batch, but they too suddenly disappeared, scattering like the sparks of a dying fire.

Your brows narrowed in confusion as you came to a stop. They’d always swarmed to you, swirling around you in a cloud of light and energy, never had they run from you.

“That’s weird.”

“Maybe they sense it, too.”

You whirled around at Din’s low modulated voice. Once again he’d been able to sneak up on you, not a single bootfall down the ramp giving him away.

Smiling bemusedly at him, you settled your weight easily, head tipping back in question. “What do you mean?” You asked after a moment, turning to give him your full attention.

“Your powers, mesh’la. They’ve changed you.” His voice was low, pained. He stayed near the bottom of the ramp, his weight shifting slightly before he planted his feet and stood resolute, a sigh shrugging his shoulders gently before he went on. “At first I thought that was just the Jedi way, what do I know?” You chuckled softly. “But things have gotten worse. You’re…. You’re different.”

You scoffed, arms coming across your chest as your hip cocked out to the side, head tilting slightly with a sarcastic smirk. “You’re right. What do you know?” The words practically sneered from your lips, and you regretted them the moment they spilled, but you didn’t make a move to take them back.

It was like something had taken over your body, your motions…. Nothing felt entirely like your own, but it also felt so right down to your very bones. It made you shudder slightly at the contradiction warring inside your mind.

Ignoring your slight, Din went on, his weight shifted to one leg. “Fine. Explain it to me.”

Arms going wide, you began to gesture as you spoke, voice raising with each word. “I’m doing this to protect the two of you, Din! I was useless before! Now I’m-“

“Now you’re what?”

“Strong.” Your brow furrowed as you stared up at his visor bravely. Holding his gaze, you never once wavered under its unforgiving stare. “Now I can help.”

“Really?” Din nearly chuckled, gesturing vaguely back toward the ship. “Because Grogu is so scared of you,” he dropped his arm, leaning in closer to you, his voice lowered, “he won’t leave the ship.”

“That’s not-“ you turned around in a circle and realized the kid wasn’t there. “Where is he, Din? You’re hiding him aren’t you? To prove a point.” Looking around once again, you let out an emotionless chuckle. “You stashed him in the bunk, didn’t you?” You started up the ramp. “I told you not to-“

“Don’t.”

You stopped in your tracks, staring blankly ahead toward the opening of the Crest, not really seeing anything in front of you but the white hot anger that began to brew just under your skin. “Excuse me?” If your words were any quieter, you’d not have heard them yourself. Turning to him, you arched a brow.

He stared at you in silence for only a moment before he spoke in a soft, but firm, voice. “Until you sort this out, don’t go back on the ship.”

With a scoff in disbelief, you shifted your weight to your other hip, one hand coming to rest there, and rolled your eyes. “It’s my home, Din.” You chuckled again, your tone still dry and mirthless. “What are you talking about?”

He walked past you up the ramp, turning once he was at the top and hesitantly lifting his hand onto the lever. “Until you sort this out, until you get back to…. You…. It’s not.” His visor fixed squarely on you, Din’s fingers rolled in a procession of indecision along the spine of the metal gripped tightly in his hand, his gloves creaking with the effort in the silence. You stared right back. Met him ounce for ounce. Until…. He pulled down and closed the ramp.

Stumbling backwards as the ship lifted a few feet off the ground, the ramp beginning to close, you fell to the ground with a thump , landing flat on your back. The wind knocked out of you as you stared up at the shrinking form of the Crest, an anger you’d never felt before consumed you, and you reached out one hand, crying out in anguish as you held the ship firmly in place.

Whether it was a cry of pain, emotional or physical, fear, maybe even frustration, you didn’t know. All you knew was you couldn’t let them leave, and whatever it was boiled up and out of your throat as you watched the ship struggle against your hold. The metal moaned and groaned against your pull, the trees surrounding it bowing and bending in the wind from the engines. Limbs began to catch fire from the flames as Din hit the accelerators to try and break free from the phantom grip, but it was no use.

Somehow you made it to your feet, one hand extended to keep the ship held still, tree limbs doused in flames falling to the forest floor with loud thuds all around you. With your other hand, you reached for your saber, not really sure why, but suddenly it was in your hand and ignited as you made your way toward the viewport of the ship.

Stalking around the corner, you stopped short when you saw your reflection in the transparisteel - your eyes had gone yellow and your saber - it had started to bleed. Red streaks were oozing down from the tip, tainting the once brilliant purple glow of balance with the bright red of hate.

Blinking rapidly and shaking your head as you released the ship, you disengaged the blade and threw it to the ground, staring at it as if it had bit you while Din brought the ship back down with a thunk.

The blaze of the fallen branches painted the reflective hull of the Crest in an eerie glow, shadows dancing all around as you curled in on yourself, staring at your saber where it had landed on the forest floor.

Din lowered the ramp and stomped down to you, getting in your face, but didn’t touch you. A deep enough breath would be all it would take to close the distance. You had to crane your neck back to hold the gaze of his visor, your face about to crumble under its weight this time. It’s the first time he’s seen you flinch in a long while. Looking at your reflection in his visor, you see your eyes are back to normal, but that settled next to nothing in your gut. “Let us go, mesh’la.”

“No. I won’t.” Then quieter. “I can’t.”

Din sighed, and you almost smiled at the borderline normal response from the Mandalorian. “Why not?”

Eyes fluttering shut, you willed yourself not to cry. “Because without the two of you, I’ll completely break. And when that happens….. when that happens, you’ll never get me back.” Making your way the few steps to the bottom of the ramp, you sat on it, still looking up at your warped reflection in his visor. It was fitting. Your eyes may be back to normal, but your face…. Your face looked twisted and broken. Exactly how you felt. “I’ll never get back to you.”

Xxx

Shooting up in the small confines of the bunk space of the Crest, you took a sharp breath. Eyes darting all over, familiar blinking lights winking at you in greeting, the thunk under the cargo hold saying hello, and the soft snores of Grogu sawing steadily away in the background….

You jumped as strong, warm arms wound around your waist, the comforting press of a familiar chest leaning into your spine, the prickle of facial hair tickled your shoulder where it softly came to rest as gentle breaths puffed against your cheek….

“Mesh’la….?” A deep voice hummed in question.

A voice you’d know anywhere.

Vocoder or not.

“Sorry,” you breathed. “Bad dream.” Huffing out a laugh, you shook your head gently. “Bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He sounded like he was already halfway back asleep.

Turning your head to look at his profile in the low light of the bunk, you smiled softly as your eyes flicked over his face. “No, cyare.” Reaching a hand up to cup his cheek, you pulled him into you for a soft kiss. “Thank you. I’ll be fine. Nuhoy.” (“Beloved.”) (“Sleep.”)

As he pulled you back down toward the bedroll with him, your face melted into something a bit more contemplative.

It hadn’t been just a dream.

It had been a warning.

Slipping from the bunk once Din’s breaths had evened out, you walked over to where your belt hung by the fresher. Taking the saber from the belt, you glanced over to the open bunk, your expression tight, and closed the door with a wave of your hand.

Dismantling it down to the kyber inside, you breathed a sigh of relief when the crystal winked at you in the low light, unblemished. It’s purple hue completely unmarred from the ugly red it’d had in your dream.

After you reassembled the hilt, you ignited the blade and relaxed your shoulders further when the cargo hold was illuminated in the soft purple glow.

You stared at the blade for a moment, getting lost in the sea of silence hyperspace surrounded you with.

Careful.

Be mindful, little one.

I sense much fear in you….

“Not right now, kyber blade,” you mumbled to yourself as you addressed the saber. “Now it’s time for sleep. Not time for voices.” Disengaging the blade, you clipped it back to your belt before making your way back into the bunk. “I couldn’t get a blue crystal. Or green. No. I had to get a wise ass purple one. The universe is testing me. Literally.”

Luke had told you to be careful, as well.

Maybe you needed to listen.

But this was a problem for the morning.

For now, you needed to do nothing but settle into the arms of your Mandalorian and rest.

But come morning…. Come morning, things were going to happen.

And you knew you would do whatever you needed to do to protect your family, your aliit.

Your clan of three.

Whatever it took, no matter how far you had to go….

You would always find a way to bring them back to you.

Xxx

(Click here for just the art in its own post.)

Xxx

Tags To Come!

59 notes · View notes

thehours2002 · 4 months

Text

in my kayabeth feelings tonight

have been trying to write fic for them (that probably won’t see the light of day) and puzzling over how elsbeth and kaya might conceive of their own sexualities.

the idea i’m running with now is that elsbeth’s marriage did not break up because of her sexuality (at least not primarily but it had to be a major reason that she was unsatisfied with her marriage) and that that came after, sometime between her last appearance on the good wife and her move to new york (probably between her season one and season and season six appearances on the good fight).

[digression: i love that elsbeth/kalinda fic on ao3 that suggests elsbeth’s marriage broke up because her son is trans and her ex-husband fought in court to prevent him from using puberty blockers. who else is here for the teddy tascioni gay trans agenda!]

i can’t remember where i read someone say that elsbeth seems to be on good terms with her husband but that their relationship is fueled by competition and that was a 💡moment for me because i think that’s the common denominator between her husband and the ausa josh perrotti situationship—she confuses the excitement of competition with sexual attraction for her male adversaries. i think maybe she puts these pieces together when she sees her ex again in the last season of the good wife and finds herself becoming enthralled with him again, but she catches herself: she’s not turned on by him, but by the thrill of getting to outsmart him.

her feelings for women have always been there but not interrogated. they’re definitely healthier—her relationships with women are shaped by mutual respect and admiration. but maybe the breakneck speed of her adhd brain didn’t give her the time to circle back to those many, many digressions about how she loves the clothing of the women around her and how elegant diane lockhart is… they mostly drift away unexamined

i’d link to think that in these interim years before her move to new york she does get to test the waters dating women (affairs with kalinda and deirdre [aka kelli o’hara] would be a slay) but doesn’t get into anything serious

kaya is more of a question mark because we’re still learning who she is, but my initial read on her is that she’s bisexual but hasn’t thought too deeply about it or even arrived at that label yet. maybe because she didn’t have to since all her serious relationships so far have been with men. maybe she was one of those girls who kissed other women at parties in college idk (i didn’t go to parties in college so i don’t have a firm grasp of this type)

so in a fun twist i think it would be neat if kaya is the one doing more Realizing Things re: her sexuality BUT once she knows she’s into women i think it’s just one more thing she knows about herself rather than the trigger for some sort of identity crisis (which i do think it was for elsbeth to a certain extent). and that’s partly a generational thing and partly just kaya’s disposition.

the kernel of the idea for the fic i was trying out is that elsbeth “comes out” to kaya after the keegan michael key episode where kaya and donnelly are like “you’re married?!” the path toward that revelation is kaya not being able to suppress her surprise in a follow up conversation in which elsbeth uses he/him pronouns to refer to her spouse (internally kaya’s like: he/him? as in husband? this walking pride flag had a husband?)

would love to hear what others have in mind for them though!

#elsbeth

13 notes · View notes

crguang · 18 days

Note

I feel like there’s a lot of sacrificing for a joke in hsr, which is definitely annoying especially when it just…doesn’t make sense, tonally and just logically. And I really do wish we found out more abt the TB, and I would’ve like even like a tidbit from firefly since we talk to her sm, we even play as her at the end. Or maybe get an offhand mention abt how she’s not supposed to tell us bc of the script or smth . I def agree w you, I cannot take the ipc seriously, bc there’s all this stuff abt how they’re doing stuff for their own benefit and profit but idk the stuff w the stellaron hunters and them is just so goofy, like it doesn’t make any sense.

ok so, I was looking thru ur blog and I realized I sent a message abt two-ish weeks ago, tumblr probably ate it smh. I was just saying how it was silly that Kafka’s wanted poster literally says she likes coats on it, and her bounty, like that’s it. Shes so sjsjshbsbddbbewv. And I also came up with another fic idea, like Kafka in an idol/band AU, but also I think her being an actor w the other stellaron hunters would be funny. But yk if I ever get around to writing anything instead of Kafka just living in my brain, who would she be in a band with, I was think abt using some of the characters from the animated before the show starts thing, but the instruments just don’t go together. Also I think I need to work on writing Kafka in general, bc she’s so complicated and it’s fun but I also overthink things too much.

And the leaks were unfortunately right abt 4 characters on one side. I’m not as devastated as you ofc, but hopefully I win my 50/50. Hjskalskskskndn I will cry if I loose.

also, no need to apologize for ranting, your rants always make more sense than mine, and I really enjoy your thoughts. -🌠

i agree with you 100%!!! missed opportunity with firefly and the tb reconnecting it could have been so nice. and omg i think i read that ask, it sounds familiar but i have so many (most are really old reqs, the recent ones are the event reqs i keep to answer eventually) and sometimes things get lost or i’ll click on the notification, answer in my head, then go do something else and forget to actually post my reply, im sorry😭😭 but YES i was thinking of kafka’s description in the game and while i know its the objective writing of the game and not the ipc, i find it funny to believe that whoever was in charge of her wanted notice thought she was hot as fuck because “dashing” and “beauty” in the same sentence is crazy work. her bounty is even funnier bc im wondering how they found out that she loved coats like😭 did she steal a bunch (she did), are they rlly monitoring her credit card and seeing all the purchases of expensive coats, is she always found in a store— what is it?!

actor au stellaron hunters would be really fun… you could also just put then in a band together for the idol/band au because i do think they’re the people who understand her best. the thought of kafka and jingliu practicing together is so funny because jingliu would hate that woman like GDJFBFNG her arrogance would have liu clenching that instrument so tight

i dont think you should worry about overthinking when it comes to writing, it can be a weakness because then you focus too much on details and forget the big picture, but personally i also think j too much into things when i write characters like kafka especially. when every genuine emotion is in the twitch of a finger, there’s kinda no choice lol

“im not as devastated as you” is killing me but its true… im the biggest victim of this banner system bc if i dont get my swanie i’ll @)&$(&)@)£<£#%. i hope u win the 50/50, unless i lose mine in which case i hope everyone else also loses <3

#sat answers #🌠 anon

7 notes · View notes

symptoms-syndrome · 4 months

Note

Hi! I’m curious to hear (in a vague way) what the process was like uncovering the DID if you’re comfortable answering. Like how long did it take? Did your therapist(s)/treatment team first consider other diagnoses? And anything else you feel comfortable sharing.

Hihi! This is sort of a hard question to answer for me, but I can try!

What constitutes my "treatment team" is sort of hard to define in this sense, because IDK if you mean "the ppl over the course of my life" or like "the one who wrote it on paper."

I've been seeing a therapist since I was 6 years old. I started going to outpatient programs like when I was in my early teens for Behavioral Problems. In those I was diagnosed with everything in the book so like. In that sense other diagnoses were considered? I think by the time I was 18 and kicked out of the house/able to see a professional of my own volition not connected to my parents/disciplinary programs, I was mostly labeled as BPD, PTSD, depression + anxiety, OCD, maybe NPD or ODD. I don't really give a single shit about any of those because I don't define myself by diagnoses anymore, or try not to, and my therapists as an adult told me it was majorly fucked that I was diagnosed with all that as a teenager. Most of them weren't even legit they were just labels to try and pin down why I was a Bad Kid. Spoiler for that, the answer was that generally teenagers act out when they're subject to intense trauma basically all the time and aren't listened to and are institutionalized. Tends to fuck your brain up real bad. I'm a lot better now not bc I got over the laundry list of diagnoses, but because I'm in like. A stable and supportive and independent environment.

I was officially diagnosed as an adult, exact ages escape me but probably like 19? It came as a surprise to me but fit like a glove re: my experiences with memory loss, not remembering where I am, meeting people who have met me before but I didn't remember, people telling me I did things I don't think I would, etc. It was really upsetting to hear because it's such a. Permanent and perception-of-life altering disorder. I was definitely hoping it was something that could be like. Cured more easily. It was also definitely hard to come to terms with the fact my childhood was That Bad, when I didn't really think it was before.

My therapist at the time said it was almost stupidly obvious that was what I had, even tho I wasn't like. Aware of it.

So like. How long did it take is hard to answer. Overall, if you count all the time I was being seen by psychiatric "professionals?" Over 10 years. If you count just that therapist? Like one year.

I'm a lil scatterbrained RN, so I might add more detail later or if u send another ask. I guess the question is so open and vague it's hard to answer without a full autobiography LMAO.

But I guess it would be useful to know why you wanna know. Then I could probably give a better answer. Are you considering the diagnosis for yourself? Are you trying to see if ur experience is shared w others? But also keep in mind I'm a weird little anti-psych dog who in general rejects the idea of seeking diagnosis for treatment. RN in therapy I mostly talk about my day to day struggles with whatever (like "damn, I've been really fixated on [specific trauma] this week" or "I made a friend" or "I'm really stressed about this argument I had" or "later this week im going on a date and i don't wanna fuck it up") and occasionally parts stuff comes up. Therapy hasn't majorly changed I don't think. Then again I'm real shit brain right now and my memory sucks ass. Maybe I can answer better later I just know if I didn't answer at all I'd forget.

#asks #also written by multiple parts bc i wrote this in chunks #hope its coherent LMAO #turning off reblogs until i know whay the fuck im talking about

10 notes · View notes

sparkle-d · 2 years

Text

waiting game | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x you

summary: in which you switch your phone with daniel's without knowing

tags: falling in love; chatting and messages; kind of enemies to friends to lovers

warnings: insecure reader; f!reader; dumb people

chapter: 4/?

(you: blue/ daniel: orange)

✧.* tag list: @bloodyvalentine93 @organasith @verstappens-hat @idkiwantchocolatee @landhoe @theplobnrgone @iamasimpingh0e @chiliwhore @buendiabebeta @icecoldtiress @holy-macncheese-balls @caosfanblr @cxliforniadream @calmleclerc @hannahholland1811

chapter 4 - beginning

hot stuff said: oh shit

hot stuff said: i just cut my thumb really badly

hot stuff said: don’t ask how

ma fraise said: how.

hot stuff said: i was shaving my hand…

ma fraise said: at the same time that i want to know why you were shaving your hand i’m a little scared to ask

hot stuff said: to have soft hands what else would it be

ma fraise said: idk you are "“kinky

hot stuff said: w-wht

With the blink of an eye, your vacations have come to an end.

You didn’t do anything special with your free time, aside from enjoying your own company and watching the most chick flicks you could. Even with the amount of movies and young adult series you’ve been binge watching, you still have a single and persisting thought inside your brain. You had a conversation with hot stuff a few days ago, the one he mentions about fancying you, at least that’s how you interpreted his text.

This continues to make you wonder between yes, he made a move on you and no, you’re being delusional. You like hot stuff, his company and to talk with him during your days and nights, but you can’t put your mind to believe that he would find you attractive. Maybe this is the way friends joke around with each other and you’re not used to it because your two best friends are more like your brothers and they would never do something like that.

It makes you confused.

You didn’t mention this to your best friends because 1. you felt weird about commenting on this kind of stuff with them, when you normally have nothing to comment about so you just don’t talk about it with them. And 2. they know who hot stuff is, and exposing that he made such a move on you is embarrassing.

Pierre and Charles have no filter in this matter, they always mention to you about their partners, people they hook up with and it’s so normal to you, you don’t even mind it anymore. But thinking about opening up about it to them when the issue is on your side, it’s different. They wouldn’t do anything to make you feel ashamed of it, but they definitely would lecture you about not being innocent and naive about things. They would want to protect you like they always do.

The truth is, you never felt desired.

You actually never gave the opportunity for anyone to see you with different eyes; you always tried to hide yourself from everyone, if someone turned heads on you, you would assume they were thinking badly about you. Well, and you’re probably right.

“You’re the ugliest out of all of us.”

You grew up in this reality - the reality that every single cell in your body is hideous. Your hair sometimes covers most of your face, leaving only a small gap for your eyes to pop out. Your skin feels too hot against your palms, making you think that your touch is feverish. The lines on your face are too deep and that makes you not smile too much, not that you’re someone who often gives away smiles out of nowhere, anyways.

You never felt beautiful.

When Charles and Pierre became your best friends, the friendship started because they never cared about your appearance. They never judged you for the way you’re, the way you look, or the way you dress - Pierre and Charles never tried to change you. Even though you are a very hard person to have around, in your opinion.

They came into your life and never left.

Your best friends could have anyone around them, they easily make friends without problem. But there’s something they share with you, they’re very anxious people. With you, Charles and Pierre have nothing to worry about. They always say you are a very sincere person, you never lie to them, never hide things from them and would never replace them with someone new.

You feel the same for the both of them, and as years went by, you noticed that now they understand you. They understand that you don't like crowded places, that you like the silence and being alone. Well, you like to be alone with them, mostly. You enjoy watching chick flicks with your best friends, especially because even when things don’t work out in the beginning, in the end, everything is worth it.

Sometimes you need some positivity inside your brain.

Maybe you should start to believe more in yourself.

—

Charles takes off the protection on your ears, patting on your shoulders “Oh, I’ve missed having you around.” He gives you a smile, side hugging you “I didn’t see you arrive at the garage today.”

“I got late this morning, you know, I got used to watching the races from my television, so I did not calculate correctly the time I needed to get ready and get here.” You arrived at the paddock late, a coffee in one hand and another holding your notebooks and papers “I ran immediately to check in if everything was right.”

“I bet they are.” Charles says as if you would let him drive in a car that wasn’t in a perfect and safe state “Want to check in with Pierre? I haven’t seen him either and you will go there anyways.”

You nod, checking one last time if everything is okay, making sure you can relax a bit with your friends “Yeah, I was about to head there.”

Sometimes you can’t turn off your brain from being focused on the race, but being anxious and worried about everything all the time is the ‘you’ that you want to change a little inside.

If Charles, who is racing later on, is okay with hanging out with his friends, you can do it too.

Pierre gives you and Charles the biggest of smiles, waving as he sees you - acting like he hasn’t seen you in years when in fact you had dinner together yesterday. Having them with you during race weeks, hanging out around the garages and smelling the oil and burnt tyres in the air, makes you nostalgic.

This was your childhood, and things didn’t change at all. It makes you feel warm in your heart.

You only notice that Pierre isn’t alone when you’re too close to run away from it.

“Oh my god, yeah, you’re a Ferrari member.” Pierre shouts at you, touching your Ferrari uniform - looking like a couple of tomatoes with Charles “Red looks good on you, lucky you went working with Charles and left me alone.”

You can’t concentrate on whatever Pierre and Charles are starting an argument on, something about you having a preference for Charles and making Pierre feeling lonely, when in fact you used to share beds with Pierre and leave Charles to sleep on the ground when you were younger.

Your attention is completely on the man in front of you smiling, looking like the menace he is because he knows his presence annoys you, he annoys you - and he likes it. He likes to see your cheeks turning redder as you try to avoid his stare, leaving your shyness as a view he enjoyed seeing.

“So baby girl is a Ferrari staff.” Daniel leans closer to you and bumps your shoulder with his “I didn’t know you were working here, thought you were only friends with these two.”

You open your mouth to retort Daniel, but when you look up at him, you notice he’s having fun with your embarrassment. Your cheeks are getting a tint of red so bright, anyone around the paddock could notice it. Is this how Rudolph feels? You let out a breath and decide to put your mind in its right place. You shouldn’t feel ashamed or anything, when in fact is Daniel the one saying embarrassing things.

You can deal with it.

“That’s only my part time job, my full time job is being an engineer.” You reply the most simple thing you can think of, if your interaction with him ends fast, it’s easier for you.

“This means I will have you around more.” Daniel grins, as if he has won something, when in fact there’s nothing to win here “I knew I should’ve known who you are, you’ve always been with these two.”

“Thank you for making it more evident that my presence is unnoticeable.” You give him a fake smile, crossing your arms, you don’t want to talk with him, but you stay beside him.

“Not at all, I think your presence is very noticeable.” He winks, but you are not in the mood, especially because you didn’t know you would see him around today “You’re mysterious and that intrigues me.”

You look at him, not getting what he means by that, but when you are about to ask it, Charles speaks louder.

“She’s happier when YOU win.” Charles says, his tone a little louder as the discussion with Pierre got heated, bringing your attention back to your best friends.

“Well, you win all the time, of course she’s happier when I end up winning.” Pierre shrugs. They aren’t serious about this discussion, but they’re using real arguments on this. Pierre is right, you made a fuss when he won, of course you did it for Charles every time he won, but with Pierre you even cried.

Well, you cried on Charles' first win too.

Charles snorts “She works with me, she shouldn’t be happier with your wins, dumbass.”

“Are you trying to get me fired, Charles?” You say, but your voice comes out almost like a whisper and you giggle in the end, to make sure anyone notices you’re just joking.

“Do they always fight for you like this?” Daniel crosses his arms, interested in all of the dynamics with your best friends.

“They aren’t fighting…” You try to say, but your voice again fails you and it comes out too weak “They are just messing around.”

“I’m on Charles’ side, I think you’re favoriting Pierre in your actions.” Daniel simply says, mocking you with his tone. You don’t want him to meddle in, to have an opinion or a side. You aren’t close to him, you barely know him. Until a couple of weeks ago he didn’t even know your name.

“Thank you.” Charles says “She even has a tradition with Pierre before every race. Me? Nothing.”

You beg with your eyes for Charles to shut up, but the person you didn’t want to notice is the one that notices first. Daniel lets out a loud laugh, going back to your eyes and staring at them. This time you try to not break the stare, and try to pierce him with your glare.

Pierre looks at you side by side with Daniel, only noticing now how close you two are “Are you friends now?” He raises an eyebrow, and Charles immediately does the same.

“I wouldn’t call it like that.”

“We are building up our friendship.” You and Daniel speak at the same time, exchanging looks as the answers are not on the same side “Don’t be jealous, I’m not trying to be her best friend, just a friend.”

Daniel bumps into you again and you snort, but wanting to leave a smile at the thought. Not that you like the idea of being Daniel’s friend when you’re always bothered by him. But having a new friend, of any type, is something new to you. Charles and Pierre have been trying for years for you to open up to new people, and now someone is there willing to destroy your walls and share a space with your best friends.

Charles looks at Pierre and they exchange a look that you can’t comprehend what it means, maybe they are indeed jealous of you. They don’t need to be, no one will ever replace them inside your heart.

“Anyways, I think it’s time for us to prepare ourselves.” Charles finally says it, looking around and notices everyone in the garage is wrapping things up “Just do your thing with Pierre and let’s leave.”

The tradition you have with Pierre is that you always close his racewear, for good luck. Pierre puts his overalls on his shoulders and you zip them up, tapping his chest in the end. You give Pierre a kiss on his cheek and wish him good luck, and do the same with Charles, so he won’t have such a pout on his face. His expression lights up immediately, the least thing you would want is for one of your friends to feel left out.

“And me?” Daniel says, showing his left cheek to you and standing still.

Pierre and Charles are watching Daniel waiting for your kiss. You look at them as if they were crazy, almost laughing on Daniel’s face. Why would you kiss his cheek? Why would he ask you for it in the first place? It’s not like you’re uncomfortable with it, but you aren’t leaving kisses everywhere you go.

“I would rather die, Daniel.” You answer, if Daniel has no shame in asking for a kiss, you shouldn’t feel ashamed to answer him like that. He deserves it.

“Ouch, you’re in a bad mood today cupcake?”

“For you my mood is always bad.” You say. Daniel seems to be having fun with this, and it infuriates you even more.

hot stuff said: how do you know if you’re into someone?

hot stuff said: i think i might be-

ma fraise said: what?

ma fraise said: falling in love?

ma fraise said: kdfjgnsdfkj

hot stuff said: this sounds so boring omg

hot stuff said: falling in love and etc

hot stuff said: but yeah something like it ig…

(prev chap // next chap)

#daniel ricciardo #f1 #daniel ricciardo fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 fic #abi #awriting #wg

196 notes · View notes

columbiastapshoes · 1 year

Text

more general headcanons. take them in addition to my other ones.

my last headcanon post got a decent amount of attention so i thought i’d do it again :3 my brain is like. a factory that is constantly producing headcanons from machines it’s how i function

anyways most of these r about magenta because i’ve just been in a very magenta mood recently she’s so silly (i’m going feral why is she so PRETTY)

- brad played with dolls as a kid but his parents took them away when he got “too old” for it to be some cute quirk because a Man has to play with Trucks like a Man anyways he did play with Trucks like a Man but he never forgot how to do their hair so even now he can french braid the shit out of people’s hair, especially magentas hair because the dolls he had also had big poofy hair like hers so he’s used to that. however columbia is typically magentas french braiding person so when she saw her gf getting her hair braided by another man she was like “HOW DARE YOU WE ARE OVER” (as a joke obviously don’t fret)

- magenta can do the splits. idk. i just get that vibe and i’m right about everything soooooo /j

- columbia cannot maintain eye contact and magenta STARES and forgets to blink or look away so every time they talk it’s just

“👁️👁️”

“STOP”

- this is such a specific scenario but if they are shopping and come across a pillow they want to buy they give it the columbia test. what is the columbia test you might ask? they just get columbia to scream all of her pain and trauma into the pillow, and if the sound is muffled enough it is deemed worthy to purchase

- magenta just. brings random animals into the castle. and i’m not talking about “aww she like adopts cats a lot :3” no this bitch has brought in Raccoons from the Backyard and riff raff who is a paranoid ass mf is like “THAT THING HAS RABIES” and magentas like “LISTEN. HER NAME IS BEELZEBUB AND YOU WILL TREAT HER WITH RESPECT”

- why are all of these about magenta help

- speaking of magenta :3 she is a huge wes anderson fan and she and columbia watched isle of dogs together for a lil movie date and columbia sobbed during most of it 👍 she liked it though

-can we all agree that frank just. knows how to vogue. like bro came out of the womb knowing how to do that shit and it stuck with him for the rest of his life

-so i spent a really long time being stumped on how i think columbia would dress. like i have everyone else’s style figured out but i just couldn’t figure out hers for some reason,,,,, until i went down a rabbit hole and discovered cyndi lauper. i mean obviously i had listened to girls just wanna have fun and time after time but i has never actually seen this absolute icon. anyways i discovered her and her style during theater class one day and from then on i knew that columbia dresses like cyndi lauper, columbia listens to cyndi lauper, COLUMBIA IS CYNDI LAUPER

-ok so canonically i dont think this would happen but in my own version of rocky horror that exists in my brain magenta and brad are bffs. like yk those videos u see of “unlikely animal friendships” that is literally just them. it’s like goth gf x Some Guy™️ (x used platonically)

-brad is a die hard swiftie. i won’t elaborate.

-magenta loves loves LOVES abba

-sometimes i forget columbia isn’t canonically a theater kid. cuz like. she just Is a theater kid yk that’s who she is

- she would love grease

i will probably make another one of these posts when my list becomes longer again ‼️‼️

p.s i have. two rocky horror aus. would anyone like me to post about them. because i can. i am so normal about . aus

#rocky horror #rocky horror picture show #rhps #rocky horror au #frank n furter #brad majors #columbia rhps #magenta rhps

47 notes · View notes

keeweelyme · 3 months

Note

I’m curious abt your thoughts on the phobia bosses if you don’t mind. i always interpreted them with their kinda sexualized monster girl designs as reflecting oersted and/or streibough’s kinda misogynistic views towards alethea where they put her on a pedestal but are also incredibly ready to turn on her and see her as a monster if she chooses not to love them or fails them in some way. I’m not sure if I can say it’s intentionally written like that, since the game is from 1994 and is sometimes pretty misogynistic itself in how it handles alethea, but that’s kinda how I think abt it. I’m interested in hearing your take :0

(also I love your art and it always absolutely makes my day whenever I see it!!)

i'm glad you brought this up because like a lot of people just don't think about this in regards to the BLATANT hints that streibough was actively gaslighting and lying to alethea while she was still hostage lmao. people blame her for whatever was strei's fault though so im not surprised

but also i really don't think a lot of people process WHAT exactly the phobias are named except for gyno for obvious reasons, that being acrophobia and claustrophobia are Here Too, and the fact that gyno was renamed hygrophobia in the remake's eng ver, note that while this gets a bit into hc territory i kind of think about lal too much to really not get into that a bit, and also for like 5 years i was the only one who thought about these girls more than people who jack off to them

the archon's roost is very blatantly meant to be a mountainous region full of dark corridors and tight spaces. this is probably the most obvious thing the phobias are meant to be, a glimpse into oersted's current mental state about his surroundings. he's terrified of what's around him, and that includes alethea up ahead. however before the remake came out the common consensus was that he was afraid of what alethea would think of him in the current state he was in, or that by the time he found her she'd have turn into something else, or that she would reject him. i do think this is the baseline. oersted's grappling with this growing paranoia and resentment in his heart for the things around him out of fear and anxiety. i think there's just a part of him that knows deep down that she's his last hope against both their wills, and everyone he knows has turned against him already, so why not her too?

however on this note i have basically never heard anyone else online mention how hydrophobia has been used as a shorthand for rabies (stay with me here), aka The Disease That Makes Your Brain Shut Down, causes aggression in animals, causes delirium and hallucination, etc. i know i'm reading too hard into a localization change but i personally saw this as a hint that oersted was starting to lose it before he snapped completely. beyond the paranoia his survival instincts were starting to kick in, hell maybe the phobias are in fact just hallucinations caused by him being unable to rest ever since he was thrown in jail and on the run constantly. maybe the lord of dark was beginning to manifest inside him the moment he stepped into the roost to begin with. maybe he's beginning to blame alethea for his circumstances and knows if she's alive, he'll have to drag her back regardless of her wishes. maybe he's trying to claw his way back to his normal life without realizing he's too far gone. who knows

this one is my biggest reach but execution via falling, drowning, and crushing are some of the oldest forms of killing someone in history. i feel like the most charitable in oersted's favor interpretation is the sinking realization and fear that he's about to die, be it at the hands of lucrece's citizens, at the lord of dark's hands, or at his own if he doesn't find alethea in one piece.

idk this was a bit of word vomit but i feel like people just overall boil this segment of the medieval chapter down to how sexy gyno is, or that they're just monsters like the rest of the chapter, when the medieval chapter + final chapter has a lot of symbolism (a lot of it i will admit accidental) regarding this stuff. msot of it admittedly in my own head but thats why im lalfan bunchofnumbers babyyy

3 notes · View notes

aeoneskova · 1 year

Text

Harry & Dean’s dynamic vs James & Peter’s

(Specifically in my fic honey honey)

Okay so I have a lot of little rambles about my fic bouncing around in the empty void that is my brain and ig the whole point of this blog is to spew them out so here you go :)

Matt & Fatima as Sirius & Remus:

Idk how obvious this came across in the fic but a lot of the main kids in Marlene’s class were reflections of the marauders, the most obvious probably being Matt as a parallel of Sirius (controlling parents, outshined by younger brother, used humour to make up for it, etc) and by extent, that makes Fatima his Remus. Fatima as Remus is a bit less obvious but I sprinkled stuff in there (the werewolf Halloween costume, love of reading, and her parents were similar to my interpretation of Hope & Lyall). I think my favourite thing about this parallel is that Remus watches Fatima sing Yesterday at the talent show, which I imagine came across just as sorrowful as he felt at that moment, not to mention Matt being the one to play the piano for her

These similarities are quite set in stone, but when it comes to Dean and Harry as James and Peter, I feel those lines are a lot more blurred and subtle but I wanted to explain it more because I didn’t explore it as much as I wanted in the fic..

Dean as James: this is more so about Dean’s role in the fic as Harry’s friend rather than Dean as a person. He’s the first one to let Harry join his friend group when no one else would, the first one to accept his shyness and want to be friends with him anyway. I imagine this is similar to how James treated Peter, trying to make him more involved in their group, plus them both being sports fans was a fun little bonus

Dean as Peter: on the other hand, I didn’t characterise Dean like James at all, but rather more like Peter. He’s quieter and unobtrusively funny, and more of Dean’s own traits reflect Peter’s. I made them both artists (Peter being the one to draw the map), Dean had mice on his Christmas jumper and Mary says at one point that Dean can’t keep secrets (cue my scheming laughter)

Harry as James: do I even have to explain this one? Aside from literally sharing blood, Harry’s ‘James side’ comes through the more he’s with Marlene, like doing the magic shows and he gets into arguments with bullies in a James vs Snape kinda way often in defence of his friends rather than himself. And like with the other kids’ little references, Harry has the stag Christmas jumper and yes I made him a zombie for Halloween because James is dead, sue me

Harry as Peter: this is probably the comparison I actually explain most in the fic itself (i.e. in the bathroom scene with Peter) so I won’t go into it too much here, but Harry being so quiet and ignored mirrors Peter’s own reasons for betraying his friends, as if Harry and Peter represent different outcomes of the same person

So yeah rambling over, I just kinda wanted to get my thoughts in order about all this rather than it being a mess up in my brain and I hope people found it interesting, pls let me know if you noticed any of these similarities! I’m curious to know how it came across in the fic <3

#also when writing Sophie I had pandora/Luna in mind that’s why she’s a ghost for Halloween cause y’know Pandora went boom #am I overthinking my own fic? maybe but I can’t help it #harry potter #marauders #marlene mckinnon #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #dorlene #james potter #peter pettigrew

10 notes · View notes

tkwrites · 5 months

Note

I had come across some of your snapshots randomly but have now found your masterlist and omg 😍 you are so talented ❤️

I love how you incorporate high amounts of emotion and have some real serious pieces 🥹

How do you figure out what to write next? And how do you manage to upload such high quality content? Do you dot point how you want the storyline to go before you start and then go back to add in all the little details or do you just let your beautiful brain flow and it comes together?

I use to write a lot when I was younger but get way too stuck in my own head and struggle to fix it once I'm not sure. Idk if that makes sense? Do you ever get your friends to read over it and give feedback? I feel like a burden asking them to read over it, especially larger pieces. Do you ever feel you need others input first? Any tips on how to feel more confident in my own writing? 🩷

First of all, 😭

What a gift of a note this is! It came through and I nearly burst into tears. Thank you for your very kind words.

I've always been fascinated with how people feel and relate to each other - it's the main reason I started writing - so that highly emotional content comes from that, I think. I'm so glad others enjoy it, too.

I've answered your questions about writing below as I don't want to take over anyone's feed and this got REAL long real fast.

Because I write this series out of order, I just keep ideas open all the time. I currently have 21 Sanpshots in progress. Some of those will be sunk into each other, but as of right now, there are 21 ideas. I basically write what I feel inspired to, and what gets published next is usually what’s been pulling most of my attention.

The quality content thing is interesting because I don’t always think all the Snapshots are high quality. I felt really nervous about Before I meet your Parents, I’ll be proud for you, and Sarah meets the parents, and I was convinced all three would flop when I published them. Are they my strongest works? Certainly not. Are they well liked? It seems so. So it just goes to show that we’re all our own worst critic.

That said, I have been writing for a long time and understand my style (for the most part), so that makes it easier to trust my own writing. I did an exercise about 8 years ago where I kept a blog in which I wrote or edited 1,000 words of fiction 6 days a week for a year. This was a bit of an extreme exercise and won’t be for everyone, but I credit that, more than anything else, to the improvement in my writing. Practice makes perfect, even in the realm of the arts. And if you can practice every day, that’s even better.

Generally, I’m working on 3 or 4 Snapshots at a time, but they rotate pretty consistently. When I’m near finishing one, I will concentrate on that one for a week or two, however long it takes to get it written and up to standard.

Most Snapshots and other fics start with an idea. Some start with the beginnings of a scene. Shoot the Moon, for example, started because I wanted to write a more realistic sex scene that included 2 elements: 1. “I don't care if you swallow. I don't really even mind not coming in your mouth, that was just a heat of the moment thing. Thanks for letting me anyway.” And 2. “I want you so bad,” he whimpered, “but I’m so tired, I don't think I can keep it up.”

So I usually start with an idea and then build around it. Eventually, a loose plot comes into focus, and I’ll concentrate on that for a while. Every once in a while, when I feel really stuck with a piece, I won’t necessarily write down a plot, but I will write down actions that need to happen in order to move the story forward. Some details come as I’m writing, and some are added later. Word smithing takes more time, so that usually, but not always, comes after the plot is established, and I can concentrate on the writing itself.

It’s so easy to get stuck in your own head. Writing every day can help with that. Also, I’ve had to fight to get to a point where I realized I’m writing mostly for myself and a little bit for everyone else. If you love it, there’s a big chance someone else will, too. That said, I still get stuck in my own head sometimes, and it’s something you just have to learn to push through. Usually, if you keep writing, it will sort itself out. Other times, if you give it space and come back to it, the way to fix it will sometimes jump out.

I do ask friends for help and feedback! In fact, I had someone read over the girlfriend scene in Good For You because the first iteration of it was very, very flat. I knew it was, but didn’t know how to fix it. She read it over and gave me a few suggestions that really helped.

I’ve found that I think I’m far more of a burden than my friends ever feel like I am. Usually when I ask, friends are happy to read through my writing. After a while, you’ll discover who gives good feedback and who doesn’t. And unless your friends are telling you that they’re too busy, or they don’t want to read your work, they’re likely not feeling that it’s a burden. It’s their responsibility to tell you if they’re upset or burdened. If they’re not telling you that, it’s likely that they’re not feeling that way. That was one of the hardest but most valuable lessons I’ve learned in therapy.

Sometimes, I need feedback, and sometimes I don’t. I usually need it if I find I’m writing myself in circles, or something feels off, but I can’t pinpoint why exactly.

I always read my writing out loud to myself. It’s very easy to pinpoint stuff that’s off or not natural or out of rhythm when you hear it out loud.

The best advice I can give is to write and then write some more. The more you practice, the better you’ll become. They say you have to write 1,000,000 words before you’ll write your first real one, and I think that holds true. As you spend more time writing, you’ll find your style and find your rhythm, and learn to trust yourself a little more.

I hope this helps. I’m sorry it got to be so, so, so long!

#asks #answered #writing advice

4 notes · View notes

bubble-dream-inc · 2 years

Text

Call me, little sunshine.

She moved like a desert creature: skittish and wary. As the years went by, she'd discover not even the sweating on her palms caused by the listering heat would wash away the blood on her hands; but even the most hostile wasteland could have a few minutes of pleasant weather and warm sunshine.

warnings: angst, mentions of death, grief, antimilitarism, slightly implied simon 'ghost' riley x oc

a/n: i wasn't going to post this because idk but the girls over the uselss server convinced me to <3 anyways this is one of my cod oc's (2,3) angsty backstory that i wrote for funsies and thought maybe someone here would enjoy reading or whatever!!!!

Some might say the environment you are in, shapes you, be it for better or for worse. Although the desert can be hostile, cruel, and unforgiving, Charlotte liked to think she had inherited its warmth.

She used to take great comfort in the outback’s scorching heat. In the desert, not so much.

Most days she felt she could blend in with the scenery, like a lizard would, all warm colors and quietness. Tan skin, blonde hair, warm eyes. However, as she trailed the sand on an otherwise uneventful evening, fresh out of a long train ride, her body had never felt more exposed; ashamed, even. The sun burned the back of her neck - the long ponytail not working as well as she wished in cooling her down - and the pamphlet on her right hand might as well deteriorate with the amount of force her trembling grip had on it. The backpack on her shoulder felt like pure lead - much like the rest of her.

A familiar beige house came into view. What would Mr. Harvey say of her decision? An optimistic part of her mind liked to think he’d approve. Of course, he had passed a long time ago, but his legacy lived with her for as long as she would get up early in the morning to punch dried out trees until her knuckles bled, his tutoring voice always in the back of her head, praising her whenever she felt her kicks rattle the bark with more force than intended. It was not like there was much else to do around these parts, but if it meant she would have the strength - and the muscles - of a grown ass bodybuilder being only an 18 year old woman - hey, she would take it.

She doesn’t remember getting home, but reality seemed to kick in upon meeting her mother’s gentle gaze from across the garage. The once comforting gray, cold walls suddenly felt constricting, and she had to tear away from her blissfully unaware gaze, choosing to acknowledge her father’s legs from where he laid below his truck, the only part of him that was visible as he tinkered away. Charlie briefly wondered how her mechanic skills suit her on the path she chose a few days earlier. But again, her mother always scolded her for being too impulsive.

“I’m leavin’.”

Heart beating crazed on her chest, she found solace in staring at the barren wasteland from beyond the garage door, a pregnant silence stilling the air until it was broken by her father’s awry chuckle.

“And where are you going, Charlie?”

In hindsight, she couldn’t tell if they at first thought it was a joke or if it was just denial, but the condescending tone made her shame burn even worse in her veins. As an only child, she knew it was selfish, and yet, she had no counter arguments that didn’t make her look even worse as a person.

“I’m joining the army.”

She was sure her mother went through the five stages of grief in front of her very own eyes in a matter of a minute. Screaming ensued, or not, her memory’s fuzzy on the details of this altercation - the brain tends to do that when it’s confronted by a traumatic event. Charlie just remembers her parent’s teary gazes and hoarse voices begging, pleading for her not to be stupid and throw herself out there in amidst of a brewing war; but Charlie liked the thrill, and she wanted more than the dusty landscape of the outback she called a home. With the propaganda pamphlet still clutch tight against her - uncreatively similar to the American’s one, with the Aussie version of Uncle Sam at the front -, she remembers packing her things and leaving. She always hated how cold the nights in the desert were, and a bittersweet taste took over her taste buds as she stared out the train window, the place she once called home fading into nothingness.

——————————

Her back hurt.

Scratch that, her whole body hurt, and the noon sun above her glistening skin wasn’t doing her any favors. Still, she took a moment to regain her breathing before getting up, eyes fiery with determination as she took yet again a fighting stance. Despite standing at 1,75 meters tall - above average for women - and made out of pure muscle ever since she was 15, her opponent managed to be even bigger than her, sneering down at Charlie as if she were a bug under her sole. Still, a hint of pride could be seen in her eyes.

“Not good enough, Morricone. Again.”

Grace Morgan, Corporal. She stood tall, menacing, and intimidating, and was as stern as they came, with arms the size of a small child, but, even if a rebellious part of her wanted to, Charlie couldn’t feel anything other than respect for her superior. Clearly not expecting hand to hand combat expertise from a recruit, the older woman had underestimated Charlie’s strength in training, and after the first victory, she was out to get her, putting her in her place as a rookie over and over again as the other recruits watched, with wide eyes, two behemoths of women fight over no prize in particular except an inflated ego. Not one for being prideful, Charlotte could appreciate the snide remarks on her stance and the flaws on her kicks, improving where she could whenever she’d strike next. A strand of long, dirty blonde hair fell on her eyes, the tight bun it was originally in already giving up after being thrown around so much and with so much violence, and it seemed Corporal Morgan had the same train of thought as she did. Grabbing her hair forcefully, she had Charlie on the ground in a second, tired, spent, and slightly humiliated, and as she felt the coarse training grounds scratch her face, she could hear a last remark from her superior.

“You’re pretty, I'll give you that, but long hair is a liability. If one of the bad guys grab you, they won’t be as merciful as I am.”

With that, she observed Charlie’s silent form under her for a moment before getting up and leaving under the hushed whispers of the recruits. As she sat up, she could hear a few remarks about how pissed Morgan was for having a recruit beat her up, and amongst that, a few snickers directed at her battered body, but she paid no mind to either of them, silently watching the woman’s figure retreat with great class, and deciding that, if she were to be like anyone else in base, it would be like her.

A few hours later, she stood by the communal bathroom’s mirror, looking at herself for a good few minutes, a scissor laid forgotten on the sink. People would often comment on her eyes when she was a kid - a brown so light it looked ethereal, and always so bright and full of life - and she vowed to never let her lifestyle harden her gaze; it was the only thing she had left from her mother, after all. Her hair was a gift from her father, and she’d wonder how was she going to do this without majorly fucking up. Gears were her expertise, hair, not so much.

Most women in the barracks were at the mess hall at that hour, so she’d taken solace in the fact that there was no one else around to see her in her predicament, but that hope was cut short when she heard the door opening, head snapping to it immediately only to be greeted by the sight of her bunkmate. Charlie gave her a small smile and a wave before returning to her staring contest with herself, paying no mind to the other woman’s quizzical gaze.

“You took Morgan’s advice to heart, eh?” She chuckled, getting close enough to see the scissors by Charlie’s hands. “I could do it for you.”

The blonde eyed her. Avery Zhao was a tiny thing, with a Chinese background and kind eyes, and they had both clicked the instant they were assigned the same bunk in the barracks. Charlie found it endearing how the top of her head barely reached her chin, and, oddly enough, her cheery demeanor awoke a primal instinct of protectiveness over her. Analyzing her black pixie cut, she hummed, having seen the other woman cutting her own hair a few times in the same bathroom they stood in, in the end deciding it couldn’t end up worse than if she did it on her own. After agreeing, the grin on Avery’s face made her feel both giddy and fearful.

A little over 40 minutes later, Charlie stared at herself in the mirror again, now with a heap of blond locks lying on the floor, and tried to wrap her head around the neck length hair framing her face. She was pretty sure it didn’t get too along with the hair rules, but seemed practical enough. Reaching up with the elastic on her wrist, she pulled the top into a half ponytail, content with the way it felt. Looking back at Avery, she found her friend already grinning at her, and was unable to stop herself from smiling too.

——————————

Sitting in a lone crate in the already busy base - despite it being 5 am - , Charlotte wished she still had the propaganda pamphlet so she could set fire to it. They’d sworn she’d be a hero, but, a few days after coming back from her first deployment, she certainly didn’t feel like one while she woke up in cold sweat, plagued by nightmares of her blood stained hands every night. With trembling hands, she lit a cigarette, a terrible habit she didn’t have before joining the army, and sighed, letting the nicotine smoke fill her lungs in hope it would kill her sooner; that is, if a bullet didn’t first. Lost in thought, she missed the figure that sat down besides her.

“Rough night?”

Charlie scoffed, not turning to look at her friend.

“You know it, you were just on top of me.”

Avery laughed, even if a bit strained.

“That sounds wrong, mate.”

Charlie huffed something akin to a chuckle, and they stood in silence, content in just basking in each other’s presence and watching the fellow soldiers and base staff running around, glad they didn’t have anywhere to be for at least a few hours. Once again, after a few minutes, it was Avery who broke the silence.

“Do you miss home?”

Charlie hummed, thinking about the last time she’d seen her parents, surprising herself with the apathy she felt over the memory.

“Not really. Do you?”

“Nah.”

She didn’t pry, but from tidbits of conversations here and there, Charlie had realized Avery didn’t have a family anymore, and occasionally she would wonder how that felt, as opposed to having a family but knowing you can’t go back to them. Her dark eyes turned to Charlie again.

“I’ve never been to the outback. What do you guys have that’s interesting out there?”

“Nothing. Just dust.”

Avery chuckled, and Charlie couldn’t stop her own smile from forming upon seeing her friend in such high spirits. She didn’t expect to care for the fellow soldier as much as she did when she first enlisted, but it was well known by now that their life in the military was anything but predictable.

“Well, there was you, too. Unless you are also, just dust?”

“Might as well be at this point. Feel like it.”

Getting up and fixing her pants, Avery held a hand out, grinning mischievously.

“Well then, Miss Dust, let’s stop wallowing in our sadness and run some laps, yeah?”

Charlie accepted her hand, but not without shooting her a displeased look under an arched eyebrow as they left in the direction of the training grounds, footsteps easily falling into rhythm together.

“Miss Dust? Seriously?”

“Don’t fight it, darl’, you’ll make it worse.”

——————————

It was hot.

She was no stranger to the desert, but experiencing the summer Egypt sun while in tactical gear was certainly something new. For the first time in forever, she was actually glad for the deployment; it meant something to get her mind off things since going to the gym or running around the base until her feet bled wasn’t doing it anymore.

Avery’s dog tags were heavy on her right pocket, a grim reminder of the life she chose seven years before, taunting her with the thin metal of their nature that might as well weigh a million kilos. Leaning against the tank she was currently close to, she sighed, fishing her breast pocket for a cigarette, when her fingers brushed against a piece of paper. Gingerly taking it out, she stared at the picture for a few moments, expressionless. It was another recruit that had taken it during basic training, a very tired, yet starry eyed Charlotte stood beaming next to an equally giddy Avery, everything in their appearances being complete opposites, and yet, they looked like they were friends their whole life. She wondered how much more dull her eyes must have been as opposed to the picture, deciding she wouldn’t like the answer. Charlie missed her long hair sometimes. She couldn’t cut it as well as Zhao did.

“Corporal.”

She heard the authoritative voice of Morgan call her, instantly stiffening up to greet her superior - now a Sergeant, but her hand stopped her in a motion to relax as she leaned against the tank beside her. Eyeing the picture still clutch tight on her subordinate’s hand, the Sergeant hummed.

“You looked good here. Happier, too.”

Charlie scoffed, refusing to even pretend to smile for once.

“I guess war tends to do that to people, eh?”

The Sergeant, for once, stood quietly by Charlie, content with just watching the movement around them before speaking again.

“There’s no time to regret your actions in this line of work. Regret leads to overthinking, and overthinking gets you killed.” She hummed wistfully, and Charlie could appreciate her odd way of trying to comfort her. “Being bitter and feeling guilty won’t change shit. If you want to honor her, deal with it the way she would have asked you to; with the same annoying cheeriness you both shared first thing in the morning everyday.”

She mulled over her superior’s harsh words, hating how right she was. Of course, she could argue that maybe if she was there, Avery wouldn’t have stepped on that mine. Maybe it was supposed to be her instead. Or if she’d convinced her friend to leave the army altogether like she wanted to, they wouldn’t be having that conversation. But she’d never know. Staring at the picture, she remembered Mr. Harvey, who so kindly dedicated so much of his time to teaching her how to fight when he could have been enjoying his old age peacefully. How many more dead people could she carry on her back? Even so, who would carry her on their back when she was gone too? Not that it mattered. Avery used to always say how much she liked Dust’s ‘sunshine behavior’, as she called it, so if that’s what it took to make her friend immortalized, then so be it. Pocketing the polaroid once again, she managed to give Sergeant Morgan a forced smile, to which she hummed in response, satisfied.

Gazing into the Egypt sunset, sky colored by orange hues that reminded her of the warm desert back home, she decided it was time to bury Charlotte Morricone in the sand, leaving only sunshine Corporal Dust.

——————————

Dust remembers as clear as day the day she met Lieutenant Ghost.

She had heard of the 141 before, the taskforce famous for being made out of only the pure elite, however, the rumors didn’t do it justice as she got out of the heli in an unfamiliar base to greet Captain Price. Being overly cautious as ever, she quickly glanced around everywhere to take in the sights of the base, the other people, the 141 members present, and, most importantly, the absolutely gigantic skull-masked man silently watching her every movement. She’d heard many things about him, but nothing prepared her for the fascination she felt being in front of legend himself. His mask instantly caught her attention - and she remembered her odd collection of animal skulls she encountered randomly back in the Australian desert. That seemed like ages ago.

He reminded her of a Desert Death Adder, with their thick bodies, intense eyes, and sharp fangs full of venom. Most people who’d have the misfortune of encountering one would quake in fear, but Dust was always fascinated by snakes, especially the venomous ones, since they weren’t that different from the harmless ones, to an extent - neither of them chose to be more or less lethal. And, they wouldn’t attack you unless provoked. She knew better than to provoke the Lieutenant, but a part of her wanted to know if his venom was as strong as they said his bite was. She had been bitten by a Desert Death Adder as a child, but the only thing she remembers from that day wasn’t the frantic trip to the nearest hospital - still too far away -, but the regret she felt of not having seen the snake in better detail. Her mother would always say her curiosity would be the death of her one day, as had the other soldiers in her old base warned her to steer clear of the British man when they’d heard her services as military hire were being needed in the taskforce, but she was willing to take her risks. Alas, she’d always been attracted to danger.

His eyes were on her, dark and wary, unwavering even once she bravely retributed the eye contact - she was never one to back down from a challenge, even if it came from a superior - and a part of her found it endearing how expressive he could be, considering his hues, covered in black paint, were the only visible part of his face. Clear as day, he was her complete opposite: dark, and all cool tones and sharp edges. Her mother would have giggled and told her about how ‘opposites attract’, ever the hopeless romantic. No, thinking better on it, she wouldn’t; she would be horrified to see how intrigued her daughter was with such a scary, colossal killing machine of a man.

A friendly smile was plastered on her face - as usual - and she quickly fell into witty banter with Sergeant Soap - what kinda name even was that? - while they headed to the debriefing room, the looming presence of the Lieutenant right behind them. In the distance, she could see a few other women, in particular a tall-ish redhead - who was wearing what looked to be a pilot uniform - and a short Asian girl who looked a lot like Avery catching her eye. They both looked at her direction, feeling her gaze; The redhead gave her a sweet smile, waving, and the short one gave her a nod in acknowledgement, the feminine presence of them easing Dust’s nerves considerably. She’d have to find the two of them later.

As she made her way around base, she was hit with a dejá-vu, as if she had walked the light concrete of the unfamiliar base floor before, and an odd feeling filled her chest, something deep in her gut telling her she would be making a home out of those gray, cold walls and the small task force surrounding her.

#capy.writes #cod oc #i am cringe but i am free #call of duty #cod mw 22 #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty oc

33 notes · View notes