#yall can kill me for saying that but its true

[roaringheat]

yea yea Tangerine is attractive ik but like I think ppl are sleeping on like literally almost everybody else in the movie

[lunar-fey]

ohhhh my god. okay. so. my aunt does like, she buys random junk in bulk from retail wholesalers and then resells it on like, facebook marketplace and ebay and stuff. whatever. so my mom works for her. makes a flat $50 a day, regardless of the fact that shes disabled and doing hard labor for at least 8 hours a day, often 10+. and min wage here is $10 an hour but mom argued that $50 a day is still more than what she would make working the same hours at an actual job because of taxes...like girl that would be 50% taxes. you do not pay that fucking much. so thats already Bad.

but today mom shows me a video of a knife theyre gonna sell, and i watch 2 seconds and i realize its an automatic knife, and i tell her hey. thats illegal to possess in this state. let alone sell! and mom is like ohhh [aunt] knows what shes doing itll be fine.... we sell knives on there all the time she just doesnt put pictures and calls them something else on the listing to get around fb/ebays policies :)

LIKE. HELLO. THATS NOT BETTER. YOURE COMMITTING MULTIPLE CRIMES. *AS YOUR JOB.* and she was just like "its not a big deal she knows what shes doing." folks, this is the same aunt that, very illegally, paid me to sort through her clients confidential tax documents and bank records and stuff. because she works for a bank. and took the records home to sort them. i dont think she DOES know what shes doing, actually!

[norrizzandpia]

We’ve seen rabid lado’s girlfriend but what about rabid Lando about his girlfriend

Hi hello welcome back to the universe of feral!reader

Y/n’s Biggest Fangirl (Lando’s Biggest Fangirl Part 3) (LN4)

Summary: A look into the times when Lando was feral for his own girlfriend.

Warnings: suggestive comments, language, the drivers being scared and nervous for the sanity of lando and y/n, Alex says “kms” once and its very loosely used plz don’t do anything like that ever ty

Note: Here are the links to the other parts! Part 1 Part 2 also there is no face claim for this its just blonde, faceless women but you can imagine anyone <3

landonorris if i speak….

Comments:

y/nnn oh! so j to fill everyone in, i sent this to him (one of my friends took it on a girls night) he responded back with some very… um… not safe for work messages

- Mclarensgirly leak them.

- landonorris she leaks them and my entire career is ruined fr

- f1fan2024 y/n. leak. them.

- y/nnn guys. yall know how crazed i am but even i wont leak these texts.

- Mclarensgirly 😟

- f1fan2024 🤨📸

oscarpiastri you are aware this is your MAIN insta account right?

- landonorris yes.

mclaren calling the psych ward brb

—

landonorris who wants to guess where i wish my hand was

Comments:

oscarpiastri THIS IS YOUR MAIN FUCKING INSTA ACCOUNT

danielricciardo mate…

maxverstappen man wtf im just trying to enjoy my winter break

- f1fan34 MAX 😭

y/nnn lando i sent this picture to you out of kindness….

- landonorris and you think I’d do what with it??? Keep it in my camera roll??

y/b/f_username there’s something off balance in your brain but im happy you know how hot your girlfriend is 🔫

- landonorris SMOKIN. DROP DEAD. MOUTH WATERING. DELICIOUS. EXQUISITE. GODDESS. BEAUTIFUL. STUNNING. GORGEOUS. GOURMET.

- y/nnn why am i a meal

- landonorris cause i wanna eat you up

- alexalbon this interaction has made me want to rip my skin off #vomiting 🙁

—

landonorris mommy

Comments:

alexalbon #kms

- oscarpiastri #😟

- danielricciardo #maininstaaccount

- landonorris #mygfishot

y/nnn alr babe that’s enough screen time for you today

- landonorris no <3

mclaren can we live?

Mclarensgirly uh…..

- op81andln4 ok but like… i want him to call me mommy

- Mclarensgirly that’s weird (I’d kill for him to call me mommy)

- oscarpiastri see what you’ve done landonorris?

- landonorris I don’t see a problem.

- maxverstappen GET THIS MAN TO THE ER JESUS CHRIST

—

landonorris prettier than the Trevi Fountain 🫶🏻

Comments:

y/nnn i got the notification he posted, got terrified, then opened it and my heart warmed ☺️

- Mclarensgirly HER INSTA NOTIFS ARE ON FOR HIM 🤭

- landonorris so are mine for her tf

mclaren this works

- landonorris I’ll be back at it again soon dw

- oscarpiastri i will never get a chance to experience what true peace feels like.

F1fan2024 get you a man who will call you mommy and prettier than the trevi fountain on separate occasions in the span of a week

alexalbon i like this one!

- landonorris that’s my gf back off bitch.

- alexalbon damn.

y/nnn dw guys i just sent him another pic of me getting ready to go out with the girls

- landonorris BARK BARK

- danielricciardo #whereisthenearestbombshelter

- maxverstappen #itsover

- oscarpiastri #landomakesmescared

- landonorris #youwishyouwereme❤️

[no-droids]

Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long).  As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession.  You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets.  The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it.  The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to.  You don’t even really feel like a person right now.  The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life.  It feels sick.  Wrong in your bones.  Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop.  Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops.  Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago.  Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground.  It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception.  What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all.  You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now.  No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams.  No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move.  The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again.  It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence.  Silence.  You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement.  You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are.  You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder.  You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something.  Reality, maybe.  A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands.  “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows.  Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying?  They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat.  Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy.  It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be.  Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately.  It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances.  Oshua Ryler.  Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened.  A stormtrooper?  His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense.  What is he doing here?  Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them.  They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers.  “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.”  You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done.  You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet.  You hate looking at his face.  It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust.  His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat.  He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby.  You know what needs to be done.  Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over.  It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.”  You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears.  “They hold no power anymore.  Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!”  The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green.  “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…”  He stares wide eyed at you and gulps.  “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now.  “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?”  He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?”  You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side.  “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?”  The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around.  “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!”  You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him.  Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about.  “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!”  He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight.  “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty!  They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling.  You could still kill him.  You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit.  “Who put the bounty out on you?”  You ask sharply.  It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder.  “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!”  Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it.  You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask.  Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something.  Din was cut off before he finished.  Help?  Know what to do?  You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by.  The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice.  The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry.  “How many of you are there?”

“At the base?  Around three hundred,” he immediately spills.  “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours.  There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,”  You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker.  “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground.  “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of.  In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence.  That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector.  If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon.  And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel.  “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…”  He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands.  “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally?  Sure.  Realistically?  You don’t say anything in response.  Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do.  The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it.  They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip.  Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you.  Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease.  It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression.  Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood.  Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color.  Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?”  You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder.  Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again.  “I need as much information as possible about the base.”  You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm.  Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard.  It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest.  While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking.  Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now.  Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission.  Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides.  What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors.  Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger.  Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next.  His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears.  When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much.  He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread.  If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces.  He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind.  Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers.  Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base.  He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man.  If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go.  With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get.  He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat.  Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range.  Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind.  He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl.  Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard.  Not far from here, three minutes or less.  The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers.  It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers.  “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask.  Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible.  Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed.  The turrets, then.  “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old.  Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel.  “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport.  TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?”  You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got.  You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?  

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here.  Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here.  The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here.  Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not.  He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul.  If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator.  “Mando?”  You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway.  Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it.  That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to.  Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction.  Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose.  Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily.  It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?”  Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls.  “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit.  “You cover your face like one.  You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.”  Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now.  “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he?  He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan.  All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge.  You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood.  This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby.  In a sense, it still feels that way.  The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family.  The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch.  He’d know, you tell yourself.  If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow.  Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore.  The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response.  In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet.  These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back.  Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms.  The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes.  Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?”  Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter.  The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh.  “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add.  “How were you able to find us?”

Silence.  The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now.  He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red.  Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality.  The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead.  Useless, then.  Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor.  Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention.  “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon.  The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite.  It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened.  But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it.  The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what?  This Mandalorian?”  The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms.  “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.”  The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head.  “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees.  “He must want the beskar.  I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive.  He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!”  A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed.  There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury.  It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues.  “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth.  He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize.  Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible.  You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety.  Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually.  It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive.  Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk.  They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost.  You’re both long gone by now.  They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest.  Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response.  His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it.  How the fuck did he know?  He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile.  Who’s this, Mando?  She’s just darling, isn’t she?  Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods.  “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides.  Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man.  The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul.  His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun.  He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?”  The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember.  He’s panicked before.  He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time.  This is different.  This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection.  There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now.  The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat.  You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it.  Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you.  Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out.  His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision.  For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground.  There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about.  Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed.  It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground.  Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him.  Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up.  Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?”  You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on.  Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them.  If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways.  The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge.  Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!”  You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull.  You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door.  “Now!  We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up.  Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel.  Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears.  The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping.  You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense.  Deadly tense.  Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once.  One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life.  It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it.  All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking.  You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before.  Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear.  Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship.  But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap.  Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared.  They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is.  You can’t seem to breathe like he is.  It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand.  Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh.  A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now.  Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing.  You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you.  When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain.    You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment.  You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through.  You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now.  However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest.  Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline.  Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you.  His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time.  It’s… cold.  A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin.  Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood.  You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word.  You can’t find a single word to say.  The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones.  It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet.  There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden.  Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement.  He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip.  It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features.  His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to.  You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there.  He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor.  You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves.  Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly.  Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself.  “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly.  Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t.  Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult.  You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive.  There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment.  One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty.  There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t.  “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it.  Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones.  You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands.  He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from.  It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you.  The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood.  Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face.  The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground.  It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet.  Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back.  Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand.  It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang.  You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground.  The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead.  So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state.  He doesn’t move.   His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last.  If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else.  Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying.  You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him.  You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor.  Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes.  Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done.  Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown.  Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain.  The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert.  You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy.  If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him.  It was… isolating.  Lonely by yourself.  The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp.  Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner.  Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath.  One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet.  You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What?  At least what?  Comfort you?  Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions?  What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him?  You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically.  He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you.  You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do.  If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself.  At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment.  Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul.  Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover.  You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on.  You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again.  You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand.  After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone.  After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in.  The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings.  It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent.  You don’t feel anything as you do it.  You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm.  Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster.  The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything.  They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower.  Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy.  Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent.  When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls.  Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today.  You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep.  You don’t even try, it’s pointless.  The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself.  You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking.  You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago.  You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong…  They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation.  You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point.  In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this.  You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure.  How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices?  Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t.  You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him.  You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance.  You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course.  Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been.  Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you.  A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone.  Multiple people, this time.  He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done.  The end result won’t change.  You own this now.  You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice.  He wouldn’t argue with you.  He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them.  It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount.  You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned.  You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive.  You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him.  If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it.  Focus on them both, alive and well together.  Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness.  It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself.  Hours, maybe.  Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are.  You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways.  After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair.  He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet.  “Don’t say anything.  Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes.  You did save him.  You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent.  “I tried.  Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself.  I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul.  Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you.  It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up.  “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat.  They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses.  “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out.  The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body.  “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself.  The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking.  You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.”  Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes.  “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold.  Again, everything turns numb.  It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today.  It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it.  For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks.  “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me.  I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger.  I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe.  And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II.  Do you know why I did that?”  The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart.  “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand.  You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up.  Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away.  But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you.  Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying.  It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die.  You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t.  “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones.  Especially the trained ones.  Anything else was meant to be your last resort.  Not your choice.  Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself.  The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him.  Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried.  You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen.  “I couldn’t do it.  It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you.  He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words.  “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?”  You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster.  Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care.  “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.”  It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless.  Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against.  It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively.  “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean.  Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.”  The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child.  Never.  You’ll die before that happens.  “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that.  Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing.  Not even you.”

Din stares at you.  His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant.  It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become.  You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both.  He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet.  It happened.  What’s done is done, you can’t change the past.  He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so.  This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child.  You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them.  Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers.  It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak.  Broken.  “You wore mine once before, and it was…”  He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away.  “It wasn’t real.  It didn’t fit.  It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out.  I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?”  You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad.  You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but…  Not a Mandalorian, he’d said.  Of course not.  Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.”  Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again.  “It was you covered in blood.  It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger.  You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship.  And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too.  You…”  He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice.   “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you.  “You don’t fly into war zones.  You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me.  You said you tried to be brave… like me.”  His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand.  “I’ll never ask you to be brave.  I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight.  They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time.  Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again.  It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside.  You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?”  He murmurs to you.  You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler���s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?”  You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory.  “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that.  Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain.  You’ll never be able to change it, though.  This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else.  Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come.  You need to tell him.  You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?”  You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor.  “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat.  “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.”  He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time.  He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine.  You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before.  It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms.  His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing.  “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today.  All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty.  You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now.  If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer.  Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him.  “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

[miyaheestar]

live reaction to the pack wedding audio

KISS SJSGJS DAVID KISS HAIII HAI DAVID 🥺🥺🥺

"i just want a little time with you today, before everything goes crazy" MSHSMHDMSHSM IM GONNA GO INSANE

IM GOING INSANE IM IM GOING IM INSANE IM ACTUALLY DGINGSJSYSISGSKGAJA

"how are you feeling?" NOT GOOD MY BODY TEMPERATURE IS HIGH IM GOING INSANE FYM YOU TOO

"WE MADE IT" WHAT IF I DONT MADE IT WHAF IF I CRY WHAT IF YOU DIE DO NAWT SAY YOU LOVE ME I WILL CRY DAVID SHAW I WILL ACTUALLY CRY SO HARD

"WE'RE GETTING MARRIED TODAY"HE SOUNDS SO FUCKING HAPPY AND SOFT IM ACTUALLY CRYING IM NOT NAWT OKAY IM NOT PLS DONT DO THIS TO ME PLS

"beautiful" i haven't showered and i didn't sleep and it's 7 am in the morning are you blind

"you are. especially first thing in the morning. still all sleepy and cuddly and relaxed. im the luckiest man in the world to get to see it everyday.. for the rest of my life" do you want me to die?

MGSMSGSMSHSM I WANNA CRY SEND HELP SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOSBSOSBSOSBSOSJSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOWIS

pls i will actually cry

"you fucking menace" IM YOUR MENACE HAH

KISS

ASHER ASHER ASHER ASHER ASHER ASHER ASHWR ASHWR ASHERA AHEEDHA ASHER AHSER ASHW AAGE

oh he eepy baby 🥺

good morning asher 🥺

"oh my god it's actually today holy shit it's actually happening" HE'S LIKE ME FOR REAL FOR REAL

"when did you wake up" you think i sleep?

WOAHWOAHWOAHWOAH SEXY?? AYO I KNOW I AM SEXY

"IM GONNA BE YOUR HUSBAND" WHAT IF I CRY WHAT IF I CRY WHA IF I ACTUALLY LOSE IT THEN WHST IF I DIE WHAT IF YOU DIE OH GOD DON'T DIE ASHER PLEASE

IM TEARING UP DONT DO THIS TO ME

ASHER I LOVE YOU SO MUCH WHY YOU'RE NOT REAL

"I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BABE" I SAID IT FIRST SO THAT MEANS I LOVE YOU MORE

DAMN RIGHT ASHER DAMN RIGHTTTTT

"about the person who matters to me more than anything else in the whole damn world" STOP STOP THIS OFFICER OFFICER A WEREWOLF TRYNNA SEDUCE ME HE TRYNNA SEDUCE ME SIR I WILL DIE SIR IM BEING SEDUCED

okay scene change

SAM AND ASHER AUGSUAGUAGUAGUAGAUFAUAGAHHUFAHHHH

"mate pairs shouldn't see each other in the morning" DAMN RIGHT SO TRUE HEWL YEAHHH

MILOOOOOO MY BIG.. um SMALL BIG BOY

"grouchy grandpa" HELPPPP "now don't you start." HELLAGSISGSKSG HAHAHAHAHA

"oh my mistake" YOU'RE SO SASSY

... ITS JUST SILENCE HELPP IM CRYING

ERIK PLEASE HAHAHAHAHA YOU'RE SO 😭😭😭

ERIK BODOH LAH KAU NI 😭😭😭😭

HELP PLEASE ENOUGH SILENCE PLS THIS IS WAY TOO FUNNY I'LL THROW UP

IM CRYING

STOP THIS

IT'S TOO LONG STOP THE SILENCE ERIK I WILL EAT YOUR HAIR AND YOU'LL BE BALD

ERIK

LMAO MILO NOT THE WARNING

CHRISSY

"are you trying to look like you got married in wind tunnel" HAHAHAHAHAHAHA HELPPP MILO PLEASE

"im fine.. i-im not" ME TOO ME TOO ME TOO ME TOO ME TOO ME TOO ME TOO

aww grandpa sam 🥺🥺🥺

AWWW DAVID HELPING ASHER

"david, can i ask you something?"

STOP STIP SRSOSO STIP SFOP STOP BITCH STOP I WIWLL CRY

"well i did" DO YOU WABT ME TO KILL EVERYONE THEN MYSELF

im not okag im not ojay im not okay I AM NOT OKAY

i cant do this I'll actually pass out

i cant

im hypervinelantagwtbf

"my dad-" SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP DAVID SHAW SHUT UP

"i picked you because you're the one person i trust more than anyone else. you made me feel safe." I WILL ACTUALLY LOSE IT

I WILL LOSE IT

I WILL NO

I WIGSKSGWK

I AM GONNA CRY

"i was a decent alpha but i wasn't a very good friend" so you want me to kill myself

i am genuinely gonna cry

THEY'RE HUGGING IM GONNA CRYYYYYYY IN GONANNAHSGSISFWKSFISV IM NOT OKAY

"ash euw" I LOVE THAT

MILO DO NAWT HURT MA MAN I WILL EAT YOUR REMAINING HEIGHT

MILO SPEECH

"how much does it pay" BOSGSISGSJGAHAGAGAGAGAHAHAGAHA STAPH

what if i jump

i will jump

i won't

i will

i wont

I WILL SOB I WILL WIBSUSVWKSGSJ STOPAHSGSOGSOSGS

IM GETTING MARRIED YALL

IM IM IM IM

IM GONNA GET MARRIED

it sounds like asher and david getting married LMAO

"um" classic opening

asher if you cry YOU BETTER BE CRYING okay he's gonna cry

what if asher dies after his vows

I WILL BE A WIDOW OH GOD

"i love you" IM GONNA KILL MYSELF AND EAT ERIK'S HAIR

so it's just silence and giggles for babe's speech

got it

it's okay i love asher's giggles

"angel" I WILL JUMP BRO

I WILL

I WILL

I WONT IM SCARED OF HEIGHTS

david please cry

PLEASE CRY

GO FULL ON SOBBING

why guy is not angel's brother

HE'S CRYING YALL CHEERS

CHEERS

and he's laughing too

BUT HE'S CRYING YEAYYYYY

LMAO MILO HAHAHAHAGAHA PLEASEEEE

IT SOUNDS LIKE ASHER AND DAVID KISSING WOAH

... I NEED MORE

ERIK ERIK ERIKSON

[sakumz]

-------------------------------------------------------

[ m. orter x fem reader ]

-------------------------------------------------------

" why does it feel like I've caught you in some sort of affair? its unusual for a visionary to still be in this school, so late at night, hm? " your voice was stern and threatening though still slightly curious.

orter was leaving after his quick dinner with margaret, that he won't tell anyone of. you're one of the teachers in this school. known for having great foresight. he had heard countless rumours about you. they said you used to be an assassin, having killed a few witches or maybe a spy for an enemy organisation waiting to overthrow the visionaries and the government. they said you had power strong enough to actually be part of the visionary. hearing all that, he had to be cautious around you.

" well isn't it strange for a teacher to still be in the school, after 7? " he replied as you quirk a brow.

" I'm clocking out and this is the earliest time of the week that I'm clocking out. I've worked countless overtime. mainly to help students write their report for any troubles they've cause, marking papers and such. " you state matter of fact, rendering the man speechless for a moment.

" I see, have a lovely night then. " he turns to walk away, before moving too far away. you open your mouth to speak one last thing, " don't try to do anything to stop mash from taking the exam. especially using a student of the school to- "

as he turned around, you were gone. how did you even know he was going to stop mash. he tossed and turned in his sleep, that night. well you're a teacher, you'll most likely be at the stadium. he can always put you in jail and question you, he can also question you later on.

at the stadium, he wasn't expecting you to stand next to walhberg. kaldo on his other side. he wonders what the two of you could possibly be talking about, seeing the dumb smile on kaldo and you laughing at the man. was he that funny? heck, he can see the tears on your eyes. WAS HE SO FUNNY?

" are you seeing anyone as of late, ms l/n? " walhberg starts, feeling your face burn up a little, kaldo couldn't help but laugh at you.

" w-whats it to you, mr walhberg! I have no interest right now, and I'm very busy! " you scold.

orter wonders what the conversation was, seeing you turn red and kaldo laughing at you embarrassed self, walhberg was smiling too. WHO'S FUNNY NOW? he wanted to painfully rip someone's head off. it's not his business but he too wants to know. how come both of them, aren't so cautious around you. did they not cared for such rumours? what about you, are you trying to prove that such rumours weren't even true?

after the whole fiasco of innocent zero showing up, the exam was over. everyone was slowly leaving. you, kaldo, orter and the light cane remained. discussing the attack.

" ms l/n, I didn't get to see you fight today but I've heard countless rumours. care to fill me in about you? " ryoh starts, as yall made your way out of the stadium.

" oh those rumours are true. I'm a witch assassin and I'm working for a secret organisation to overthrow the idiotic government and visionaries, " the three were stunned to hear your confession.

" I don't buy it, " orter says as he walks past the three.

" if its true and you ever try to do anything funny. mark my words, I'll stop you singlehandedly. "

" he likes you, y/n. " kaldo whispers in your ear before rushing off somewhere.

surely that wasn't the last he's seen you. you're even dropping by their office, as if you worked here! it's mainly to drop off reports and to check in on lance and dot, hearing they're being trained by orter.

upon hearing his training methods, you can't help but sit and watch. of course cheering your lovely students on and cursing at orter. he tried challenging you to that particular training only to be surprised at how easy you dodge his attacks with your smoke magic.

maybe both of you were meant to be, having similar magic skills. slowly but surely your presence is everywhere. the man didn't even realise he was falling.

" say do you like l/n-sensei? " dot questions as they take a quick short break from training.

the sudden question making orter stop wiping his glasses to stare at him, stupidly.

" a man has been trying to court her, the past few days. she said she's close to accepting his proposal, " lance spoke.

" I see, trainings over for now. " orter rushes out, making his way to your office at Easton.

" what brings you here, dear madl? " you swirl in your chair to face him.

" you're getting married? " you couldn't help but burst out laughing at his dumbfounded expression as he only glared at you in return.

" n-no, just thinking about it. " you wipe the tears from your eyes, staring back at his face.

" then marry me not him. I'll treat you way better, " he walks closer to your table, grabbing a few locks of your hair to plant a kiss.

such simple actions, made your heart go doki doki.

[deesseshesca]

PAC : What's the wildest sexual experience bound to happen with your s/o ?

Is not because I ain’t takin that I can’t keep up with love

Good afternoon, pretty souls, today we are diving into the sexual destiny of your relationship.

FLASH SALE 

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only 

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION 

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST 

Basing myself on the legal age in my country which is 18

 

PILE 1 

4 cups, Strength, High priestess, Knight wands 

WILD SEX : INVOLVING A THIRD PARTY 

Prostitute, stripper or an unicorn 

Check in : You guys have a very wet cooch. No need for a lube. If you are a man , you know how to move your hips smoothly…hihihi

I’m sorry babe but you’re man/woman ain’t shit. I see you wearing sexy good quality lingerie walking around lather in lotion and perfume and he/she keeping its gaze on the TV. While you are waiting to get into some hardcore sex. If you are a man , I see you walking around in gray sweats, fresh cut and some good cologne. Some of y’all even go as to applying some lip balm but nothing she/he is more preoccupied with their phone. The worst you deserve is all the hype after all the effort you put in. Back then yall used to go round and round, night until sunrise. Now we are getting out off in the shower. He/she can’t bring himself to care. While there are people out here that would kill to be in his/her place. From their perspective y’all need to add another person to bring back the spark. Hey, I am the last one to judge sexual needs but their intention ain’t it. They want the 3 of y’all in a car,fucking. How is that even going to work ? The car is already small for 2 people. The reality is that they don’ t want look at u or even deal with you while y’all fucking. And that right there tells me all I need to know. They don’t care for you any more but they keep you around to satisfy their sick ego. Sorry to announce, he is never going to ask your hand in marriage. If it is a women, she will never accept a long term commitment with you. 

💌Don't listen to one word coming out of their mouth. You got me feeling all the way hot a front of my screen. So damm sure you are the Bomb.com. Anyway if you want more insight regarding you next sexual encounter, you can always message me especially now since my readings are on sale.

Much love, Shesca

FLASH SALE 

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only (Link at the end of the post )

PILE 2 

5 cups, 6 cups (reverse), ace wands, 9 pentacles (reverse), ‘’I was hidden my true feeling because I was scared of commitment and did not want to lose my freedom !’’

SHE (FEMININE ENERGY), HIM (MASCULINE) 

Before you go further, know that it doesn't matter about the gender but which energy you embody. Because there is a clear difference in this one. 

You guys already had crazy sex. I don’t even think it is about the kinky level but is more about the overwhelming emotions shared in that intimate moment. I’m talking about your most recent ex, some of y’all (especially women) it was your first relationship. Let’s start from the beginning. He used to send you cheeky pics of him after a workout or a shower. Y’all are not better, out here sending lingerie haul and voice memo. Knowing damn well that your moan drives him crazy. I can’t exactly see how we got into the fucking scenario  but I can see bits of the whole thing. He grabbed your waist and pushed you on the bed. Leaving hickeys on your neck and breast. While nibbling kisses on your stomach and leaving love bites on thighs. Before latching on your clit like a man on a mission. When he finally let himself inside, you were a whimpering mess. I keep hearing: ‘’ You can take it princess. Everything is fine. You know I’m in love with you, right ? You are so gorgeous’’. Plus he gets easily aroused around you. Some of y’all had a place that you were banned from kissing before going. I see 2 clear incidents. One before meeting your parents, y’all make out a bit in his car then y’all have to wait because of boner. Y’all at school just after one kiss, he has to go in the bathroom, to calm down. Because of you he started wearing sweat, yes to please you but most importantly because is his best bet to hide the constant boner he has around u. As of now he still gets off from flashbacks of y’all shared moments. Believe me Pile 2, he did not move on. He let you go because he wanted you to pursue your dream. He doesn't want to be the reason to stop you from  your potential. I’m sensing that y’all work or study abroad at the moment. That’s why he prefers a sad break up with much love rather than a messy one where he might do the ultimate act that he despise : hurting you. 

BONUS

WILD SEX: LOVING DOM

 8 wands, High priestess, Page wands, Magician, ‘’I know you are my soulmate babe ! Our bond is magnetic ! I’m seeing all the signs’’, ‘’ I didn't feel like I was on your level ! You are a boss ! I’m very insecure ! ‘’ 

Lucky you, your guides allow me further more access to your energy. I never getting deeper than I am allowed without having a signal. You guys are going to meet again. Is inevitable. Some he might text you drunk, after his friend tries to keep his phone away from you the whole night. They are love sick. The next first touch,I see an extremely tight hug in the middle of the airport. Him coming with red roses to you. You are jumping in his arms. I see y’all going crazy with each other not even being able to wait to make it in your bedroom. Is not just lust, it is the most intimate discord that your soul has with each other. When y’all having sex. If he did text you and promise you a surprise: is a small vibrator. See clothe flying, your ass up face down on the floor while his pounding into you,  in the kitchen. Some of y’all are not even going to make it until the kitchen, losing your mind in the door hallway. Y’all are going rounds after rounds. The last scene, you are on the bed, missionary position, crying from overstimulation. He is usually assertive but now he’s like an emotional dom. Thrusting in you hard and slow while opening up: ‘’ Don’t you dare cum. You know how much I missed you. You know how hard it was for me … to let… u … go’’

You are barely able to formulate an answer: ‘’ I know, I know, I’m sorry baby …’’ Completely dizzy on orgasm . 

💌Girl, how can you handle all this intensity ! Anyway lucky you, if you need further confirmation regarding your situation, you can always message especially now that my reading are on sale.

FLASH SALE 

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only (Link at the end of the post)

PILE 3 

8 cups (reverse), 9 cups, 7 cups (reverse), World, ‘’ I want a second chance ! Not being with you is killing me !’’, ‘’ Telepathic Communication’’ 

WILD SEX : WORSHIPING KINK 

I’M USING ''SHE'' BECAUSE I’M SENSING HEAVY PREGNANCY ENERGY

Check in : Good afternoon to my plus size babes. Some of y’all or only pregnant while others of both. You have a big butt. The stretch marks and cellulite and you love it. You love yourself the way that you are. With the rolls and belly. I am obese with your energy. 

You know who else is obese? Your boo thing. Pile 3, y’all are mean. You just block your fiancé/husband after sending a risky picture. Just because. On a random Thursday morning. He is out here losing his mind in the break room. Trying to understand what he has done to deserve that treatment. Did he forget to put the garbage out ?, did he not walk the pet?, did he forgot to start that diy project in the garden ? or did he forget to get your coffee this morning ? What’s going on ? He  is losing it in the middle of a team meeting. While you are smirking, living the dream life. Y’all look like a regular couple, kids, pets, house in the suburb with 2 garage doors. And your dream car brought by yours truly. They don’t know how freaky y’all are. Sex toys, sexting, latex lingerie and fucking in the walk in closet he build. If necessary, y’all don’t mind calling the babysitter so you can lose it in a hotel room. But y’all favorite experience is a good old missionary. He’s caressing your legs, while looking deep in your soul with nothing but love. While you are forever grateful to have found the one that cherishes you forever

💌Y'all better teach me your ways. You got that on Amazon, Target maybe it was a private sale. Anyway congrats on your pregnancy/engagement and keep the good energy, if you want to dive more into upcoming events regarding your life, you can always message. Especially now that my reading are on sale.

FLASH SALE 

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only (Link at the end of post)

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I just wanted to say that the way you characterize and talk about Miguel has actually really helped me with thinking about how to write for him 😭 genuinely I love the way you describe him as an actual like person and not just some sex addict or someone who's extremely distant and cold. I hope you continue writing mild Miguel because it's so refreshing compared to all the other shit I see 😭💕

THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS A MIGUEL SAFE SPACE AND LIKE- CAN I BE REAL FOR A SECOND???

MIGUEL ISN'T AN ASSHOLE YOU PEOPLE ARE JUST MEAN - A.K.A -

My Defense & Evidence of a Milder, Non-aggressive Sympathetic Miguel O'hara.

[This is a half-break down half rant about Mild Miguel, when we see Miguel's true nature, and what fandom gets wrong about him. I have my evidence.

this is shorter than my usual posts but I'm going absolute apeshit Miguel Mode by the end so sorry you have to see that.]

I think Miguel and Hobie are the two most complex characters in the film. Like - both of them equally.

It's just really easy to explain one over the other.

I feel this way because every character we see in the entire movie - Miles, Gwen, Peter, Jess, Rio, Jeff, The Spot, everyone - is forthcoming and clear about their intentions and motive throughout the movie.

When we're watching the movie the first time, we understand Miles motive, and Peter's, and Gwen. In real time. It's there and stated. Miles wants to save his dad, Peter wants to be a better mentor, Gwen just wants peace basically.

But when we're watching for the first time - we have no idea what Hobie OR Miguel is capable of until they do it.

They are the two we're surprised by. (And they're also exact opposites who somehow don't seem to be complete adversaries)

They're the only two within the film who we are left to speculate their motive, their drive, and what they'll do next.

They're the only two in the film who are truly meant to catch us off guard with their behavior.

Leading up to Hobie's big twist, there was a LOT of misdirection. I think the same is true for Miguel...but like..the fandom isn't picking up on the misdirection AT ALL.

I have a lot of ideas and thoughts about Miguel and his character and honestly I think it's the exact opposite of what the fandom sees.

But when its's Hobie, it's very easy to understand him, just read the wiki on Punk and you're good.

But I don't think anyone has look closer at Miguel yet.

I genuinely believe that the reason Miles got away was because Miguel went soft.

He was watching the videos of Gaby to remind himself why he was doing this - why he had to stand his ground, but when Miles started panicking, and begging to know how much time he had left - Miguel slipped up. He went soft.

And he told him 'two days'.

You can see it in Miguel's face when Miles is asking.

That's not the face of a man considering assault. That's not anger. He's wavering.

He didn't have to tell Miles how long he had left. But he did - why? Cause he thought 'I'd kill for two days with Gabby. A lot of people get less warning about death - Maybe he can spend those two days with his fath-'

and then Miles is like 'word?? two days to stop you?? iight im out also fuck yall' - which understandable have a nice day

But like......Miguel wouldn't have said it if he knew it would fuck him over. He didn't KNOW Miles was radicalized cause he didn't know Hobie had spoken to him. He thought that telling him might convince him. If he knew Miles was gonna run - there's no need to tell him anything.

He could've lied and said "I DON'T KNOW. But maybe let's talk about this."

But he didn't. He slipped up.

He's SOFT. Everytime he's mean, or angry - He has to think about it. Like when he looked at Hobie - and thought about it. He has to MAKE himself do it. It isn't natural to him.

Nobody else in the room was gonna answer Miles. Miles wouldn't have known. But Miguel told him two days. And because of that, that specific slip-up, Miles is trying to save his dad.

Why? Because he's SOFT. CAPITAL S SOFT.

Miguel is not a raging monster. Or aggressive. Or manipulative.

He's a guy who thinks he's holding the universe together with duct tape and a kid is in front of him begging to know how long they have left with their father and he tells them and because of that they get away and now everything he worked for is gonna emplode in his face because he had a SOFT SPOT FOR A KID AGAIN AND DID SOMETHING HE SHOULDN'T AGAIN AND TOLD HIM AND NOW PEOPLE ARE GONNA DIE AGAIN BECAUSE HE MESSED WITH THE MULTIVERSE AGAIN FUCK-

Like...yeah- he snapped. A normal person would snap. I've snapped for way less and a lot of other people have.

Granted, we don't go mauling children.

I don't know, I just feel like he's an incredibly layered character.

Because when he's ranting and screaming at Gwen like an irritated school teacher we're already like 'oh fuck you dude but also fuck you ;)'

so when he's right there doing things like this - we don't see it. The same way we don't see Hobie's stealing - because we think we have him figured out.

We don't see Miguel's tenderness.

Because we assume we know who he is - he's cold and aggressive and rude and hates Miles,

but like...is he really?

Miles is getting upset - and the whole conversation leading up to it Miguel has talked to him from a far, hands when Miles can see them. He's not trying to stand over him, or intimidate him. Miguel knows he's scary. He knows how to be scary.

He isn't trying to scare Miles. The exact opposite. He's trying to comfort him.

And when Miles starts lashing out - Miguel is genuinely surprised. That isn't the look of someone who THINKS he's about to hurt this kid.

He's telling Miles, hands up "Hey, sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you." He immediately lets go, backs up.

I just---- FUCK, PEOPLE THE MAN IS STANDING RIGHT THERE THATS MILD MIGUEL LOOK AT HIM

If you really really think Miguel is naturally aggressive, or angry, or cold -

If you write him that way -

I ask that you rewatch the leading up to Miles' escape. Look at his body language. Watch him, and look at his face. That's all I ask.

I just kjsjrghjkSIGHIDDGU I CAN'T STAND FOR THIS INJUSTICE AND EMOTIONAL ILLITERACY

HES NOT A GOOD GUY BUT LIKE....HE'S ... THE ONE YALL ARE SERVING...COMPLETELY DIFFERENT MAN.

He's SOFT. The same way he caved for Gwen after a little pushing. He caved for Miles after a little pushing. That's why he told him two days. SOFT

MILD MIGUEL, SOFT MIGUEL, WANTS TO DO THE HARD THING BUT FUCK HE CAN'T DO IT MIGUEL, HAS TO STAND COMPLETELY STILL AND UNMOVING TO NOT CAVE TO MAYDAY MIGUEL, MIGUEL WHO LOVES PEOPLE BUT KEEPS HIS DISTANCE AND SHUTS HIS MOUTH BECAUSE PEOPLE GET HURT MIGUEL MIGUEL MIGUEL

I'm going to go Miguel Mode.

If understanding Hobie was a house, the fandom is standing out on the road.

If understanding Miguel was a house, the people aren't even in the same neighborhood. We're in the next state over. Other side of the globe. Off base by like 12 zipcodes and 4 times zones

Mild Miguel. Please tell me you're seeing this.

Am I crazy for thinking that the slip up - of telling Miles two days - wasn't out of stupidity but PITY? SYMPATHY?

Because Miguel thinks getting to spend two whole days with some you'll lose is a BLESSING to him - not a curse.

Even though to ANY non-traumatized person - it would be a curse.

...... yo

Miguel stepped into Gabriellas life because he didn't want her to lose a father. He KNOWS losing a father hurts.

So when Miles is there in front of him, talking about not wanting to lose his father - Miguel KNOWS how he feels. Gabby didn't want to lose her dad either.

Miguel UNDERSTANDS. He's a FATHER -

HE KNOWS HE'S BEING THE BAD GUY HE KNOWS ITS WRONG NOT TO STEP IN THATS WHY HE STEPPED IN FOR GABRIELLA IN THE FIRST PLACE THIS ISN'T THE PERSON HE WANTS TO BE OR THOUGHT HE'D BECOME YOU PEOPLE ARE MEAN AND HORNY -

I- I can't even i'm sorry I -

I have a longer post about this in the works like breaking down all of his body language from his moments with MJ and Hobie and like teverything

but ITS NOT EVEN LIKE I THINK HE'S RIGHT I JUST CANT STAND PEOPLE BEING THIS WRONG ABOUT IT I CANT

If you see him as aggressive or cold this post isn't meant to be an attack. I am just down bad for Mild Miguel and I'm going delirious with hunger and starvation for him

#Justice4MildMiguel Maybe I'm huffing copium but also i know im fucking not he's RIGHT THERE

[And if you hate Miguel like hate hate him Moche says dishonor on you dishonor on your cow dishonor your family and your land in the name of Aia Paec Almighty]

If you made it this far....Imsorry you had to see me that way I don't know what came over me here's a picture of Hobie to help me calm down.

(aka Hobie judging the fuck outta me in my head)

I need a glass of water. Bye.

[ladyodium]

I Could Not Prevent It

S2x7

TW: I am going to be discussing some very heavy topics. I will ask that yall respect these topics. I will be going into Domestic Violence, Lynching, Racism, R/pe, and Gore. (SPOILERS IF YOU CONTINUE TO READ!)

So, as a Black Woman this was a hard watch. From the beginning of the lynching Louis, Claudia and Madeline were bagged and dragged off into an unknown place. Louis was being beaten on the floor while Claudia was thrown in the rat box and had people on top of it so she wouldn’t get out.

I want y’all to notice how only Madeleine is not harmed, Santiago is messing with her mind, but Claudia and Louis are being physical harmed. They all had their achilles tendons cut to the bone to prevent them from walking, they weren’t allowed to speak and if they did the coven vampires would punish them. Claudia and Louis lose their names, they are now “The accused”, Madeleine is the only one whose name is said.

The bagging, dragging, the torture, the beatings, and the mock trial all hit a little too close to home. You have two Black people and a Jewish person on stage and I can’t help but think how traumatizing this must be for Madeline. Who was dragged from her shop by an angry mob, forced on her knees and had her head shaved. Then she continued to have constant harassment on her shop and person, let’s not forget she was almost graped, and no one was going to save her. 

The film that shows in the back ground as Lestat is telling his “story” is such an important detail. “A white man who just came to New Orleans and is being Hunted by a Black male.” We the viewers know that this isn’t true. Lestat pursued Louis, Lestat wanted Louis, Lestat was obsessed with Louis. But Louis can’t convey that, he’s not allowed to speak, to defend himself. Claudia, Louis and Madeline have to sit and watch a Butch of white people laugh and mock them. They have to sit and suffer for something that was really their last option. 

Diction is very important. When Santiago is questioning Lestat he uses words like “you were forced to…you were manipulated….you were sad, and lonely….you had no choice.”

Lestat is the victim in this lynching, he was the one who was hurt, not Louis, not Claudia. He was a victim of love and passion! Of loneliness! Louis was the one who pursued him, manipulated him, made him lonely.

“I..,a vampire, was being hunted…”

“Louis was saying “come to me”…

“Speaking your own unspeakable desires…in hopes that I would come to you”

“Louis was deceptively agile with words”

“He abandoned me in our town house”

Lestat is not the victim in his relationship with Louis. Is Lestat a victim and an abuser? Yes, these two things can be true at the same time, but he was not the victim for what he did to Louis.

Claudia and Louis are described to be these two black vampires who killed their loving Maker (master). The flashback to the fight that happened really messed with me, so I’m just gonna believe that Louis, Lestat and Claudia’s versions of the fights some of them were true. The portrayal of trying to make Louis this monster who rejected Lestat and was an animal himself because he consumed animal blood is telling.

Often Black people are seen as monsters, they are the aggressors even when we are victims. I want people to understand how Louis and Claudia being Black played into their vampirism. They are immortal creatures of the night, but they are still BLACK. New Orleans was notorious for its lynching and Louis was not safe from that, no Black person was. People will say Louis was a pimp and he’s manipulating Armand and Lestat, but I feel like yall fail to understand that Louis didn’t have options. A black man in 1960 New Orleans didn’t have the options to become anything greater than what white people allowed him to be. We see that when he plays the poker game, when he helps Anderson and gets called a Nigger, and when the race riots happen and they burned down his business. 

“She called me an angel…..they burned her building because of me….”

(Context: Claudia thought Louis was God’s angel coming to save her and Louis feels guilty because she was going to die just because Louis was a black man dominating the market. )

Santiago has humiliated Claudia by making her this minstrel act. To have her sing, dance, and parade around like a fool in front of a white audience. He hates that Louis doesn’t want to join them, and that Louis is fine by himself. Louis grimacing as he watches Claudia was my face throughout that episode. He then displays her private diaries to an audience, he tells them to pass it around! Mocks her accent, makes fun at her pain and sorrows. I’m pretty sure he read what happened to her with that vampire who graped her.

She’s not a victim anymore but a prop they can laugh at and mock for their own amusement. She was right when she said “this isn’t a trial, it’s a stoning.” It’s a lynching happening in real time. Notice how Madeleine is the only one allowed the option of redemption, she’s allowed to choose her fate. She chooses death with her companion, and she had my heart for that. She really was a ride or die.

Claudia’s last act is to perform her song to the masses one more time because that’s what she was, entertainment. The way Santiago picks up her yellow dress as some kind of token really made me think of how millions of white people would have picnics and bring their children to watch the burning, lynching of black people and then they would take tokens of the kill.

To conclude, this was a hard episode and Lestat was pissing me off. Also, ARMAND IN HIS LITTLE ASS PLAYPEN?! BFFR! Shout out to the actors! They really made this episode.

[strgrlxox]

dark matter.

ꗃ this is possibly the worst the ive ever written but ik yall see how sexy she looks in that picture im tryna go CRAZYYY ❞¸

+ ¸ ❞ toxic ellie warning yalllll ꗃ

the last time was always the “last time”.

except it never was. you weren’t exactly sure why you kept coming back to her. ellie was like a drug, one you’ve sworn to quit several times but you’re addicted. 

she is intoxicating. 

although the problem is normally different, the routine remains the same. ellie would fuck up and push blame, you would shout and then leave, she would laugh and say something like you’ll be back, you’d curse and deny it saying something like no i mean it this time, then a week later you’d be back.

you could never truly stay away from her. she reminds you of this with the way she kissed you, longing and angry and full of abandon.

“thought you said i’d never see you again, huh?” she says into your mouth, it wasn’t really a kiss…more of her trying to swallow the air that’s in your lungs. 

you kiss her harder, hoping to shut up her endless teasing. ellie pulls back from you, a smirk that you wanna taste tattooed to her lips. 

you can’t help but open your lips so that she could kiss you however she wanted. she knew exactly how you needed her and she was more than eager to provide.

“why do you keep trying to leave me?” she lets her kisses move from your mouth down to your neck. you whimper into her, your body tingling in every place she touches. you can’t help the guilt that sweeps inside you at the pain in her voice, unable to stop yourself from trying to kiss her again…it was your way of showing her your regret.

she pulled back again, the corners of lips lifting at the way your mouth desperately chases hers. driving you past your point of sanity was what she did best after all.

she walks forward, forcing you to move backwards until your body hits a desk. she grabs hold of your hips, encouraging you to jump slightly. you obey her silent command, until you’re sat on the flat surface.

“why can’t you see that you’re always gonna be mine?” she pouts, you barely notice when she drops down to her knees. the look in her eyes was pure, it could fucking kill you how pretty she looks right now.

it made you think about her question, why do you keep leaving even though you know you’ll come back every time?

when she notices your attention shifting she sucks at the skin on your thighs, below where your skirt ends. greedily, wanting to be the center of your fixation. “focus on me, okay?”

you nod, hands tangling in her hair. ellie’s hands tail along your thighs, squeezing them occasionally. 

“i’m forgiving you again this time…” you begin as her lips trail further up, her hands shifting underneath your skirt to pull it above your hips.  “but this is the last time, if you fuck up again i swear i’m gone.”

it’s a lie. you both know it. 

although you would like to believe it was true. ellie kisses your knee––looking up at you, she trails a finger over the wet spot on your underwear.  she smiles against your skin. “let me show my gratitude.”

you’re panting by the time she moves your underwear aside, licking her lips at the sight of you. she kisses up your thigh, her lips leaving a trail of your anticipation behind.

“hurry up, ellie.” you whine and she scoffs. how silly of you to think you had any control here.

“careful.” she chastises. “before i stop being so nice.” it’s more of a warning than it is a threat but with ellie, the two things are synonymous. you can’t help but watch as she disappears in between your thighs, drinking you in like she’s been starved her whole life.

“are you gonna be the good girl i know you are?” even though she knows you’re too out of breath to answer––she cruelly asks, the vibrations making you shudder. you let out one long moan, the only answer that can make its way from your throat.

she huffs into you, pulling back which makes you whine. “when i ask you a question, i expect an answer, pretty girl. you know that.” she’s being harsh but she’s almost pouting as she speaks. and although her words are muffled by the skin of your thigh the room is so quiet that it sounds like it echos. 

“yeah, i’ll be good.” your hands reach in her hair, trying to pull her closer but she just avoids your touch.

“i don’t know if i believe you…”

you sob, desperate to feel her lips on you again. ellie could be so mean. “i’ll be so good, ellie––i promise.”

“i need to feel you, please ellie.” the thought of her leaving you like this––all worked up with an ache only she could rectify––makes tears brim in your eyes.

“that’s right, baby.” she smiles and it gives you whiplash how sweet she looks when she’s being so goddamn mean to you. “you need me. you just need to be reminded of that sometimes…”

you whimper, nodding your head meekly. she places two more kisses on your right leg, hands pulling your legs further apart. you watch as her face softens behind your blurry eyes, she can’t help but melt at the look on your face. “okay, it’s okay. you’re so good for me, look so pretty when you cry.”

she leans down to flatten her tongue against your center, making you sigh in satisfaction. ellie licks at you slow and sloppy, taking her time to savor you until your legs close around her head in the wake of your rapture. she rides it out, only pulling away when you push at her head from sensitivity.

she stands up and licks her lips, getting the last drops of your taste. her hands immediately tangle in your hair, pulling your mouth onto her own. she only breaks away from the kiss when the need for oxygen consumes her. “god, you look so good when you cum…so beautiful and all mine, right?”

you hesitate for only a moment, but it’s enough to make her grab your jaw and make you look at her. her gaze narrows as she awaits your response.

“m’all yours, ellie. always.”

[equallyshaw]

the one where - | nico hischier

─ nico x erik johnson oc sister

warnings: swearing, anxiety attack. angst, thats all i can say. a bit slow burning as well. sexual themes at end, but its like pg.

word count: 5.8K

shoe link.

dress link.

clutch link.

second outfit.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the first time they met.

miranda stepped into the prudential arena for the first time since she had been hired by the management team. she followed the team assistant that had been waiting for her as soon as she walked into the staff wing, and the two made their way up to her office than she would be getting a personal tour of the arena. miranda johnson was hired as as the devils second in command to their head psychologist, thought she was hired for the social worker aspect. "is it true your erik johnsons little sister?" the assistant asked and the girl nodded towards the older girl. "yep unfortuntly." miranda hummed causing the blonde girl to giggle. "i have an older brother too- id like to kill him sometimes." and miranda laughed. "oh good lord, i want to sometimes as well. sometimes they need their lives threatened every once in a while." miranda joked as casey opened her office door.

four walls covered with grey paint, a desk, small leather couch, mini fridge, a tv, some fake succulents and a desktop computer filled the room. "home sweet home." miranda said softly, setting her bag down under the desk. "lets head down to the ice, I'm sure its different then denver." casey smiled and miranda grinned. "well for starters yall have no mountains." miranda joked. miranda had done her undergraduate and graduate degree at the university of denver, and as soon as her brother was traded she no longer wanted to be in denver. so she headed out to the east coast, looking for different jobs in the new york area and came across the devils. match made in heaven she thought, doing what she loved and working within the sport she adored. the two headed down talking about jersey and the team themselves, "i would say the captain does a great job of keeping the team together but he's also younger so sometimes it doesn't always work out." casey explained and miranda nodded. "good to know." she hummed, now walking down to the bench. the ice was clean, patiently waiting for the players. they sat on the bench taking in the quietness of the arena. "it definitely is different than ball arena." miranda commented, with slight sadness in her voice. the two spoke about the team, the coach and anything else casey had to say. they stood up just as some of the players began to filter out. "casey!" the boys said as they noticed the girls. they smiled at miranda before stepping out on the ice, and then nico stepped out. "hi casey!" he said and then stalled seeing the dark haired girl. casey noticed him trying to figure out who miranda was as she watched the players skate around. "oh this is miranda johnson, the new social worker we just hired for the team!" casey explained and miranda was pulled out of her trance and turned to look at nico. "miranda johnson, nice to meet you..." she trailed off as she held out her hand. he took off his glove and held out his hand, "nico hischier, captain." and she nodded before pulling back her hand. "hopefully we arent too much work." he joked and she waved him off, "nothing i cant handle." she smiled and he chuckled softly. "let me know if that's the case in a...week." he joked before stepping onto the ice. miranda looked at casey, "you're gonna hate jack hughes in a week." casey joked causing miranda to smile respectfully. "trust me, you will..." casey added, before the two headed back upstairs.

°

the time she ended up at his place. and one where she got fired.

it was saturday night, before a early afternoon game between her brother and the devils in jersey. she had been with the devils for about two months already and was enjoying her time, and most definitely understanding the chatter (mostly harmless) around jack hughes. he definitely had a lot to say, and most of the time it was just drama he wanted to talk about. she had to remind him many times, that she was a mental health professional not somebody who talked about drama all day everyday. he still came around, to do just that. but she enjoyed getting to know the other players and some of their wives, all of them wanting to meet the person on the team who had been knocking some sense into their men and who was making progress. like real progress. and creating an environment that made the team, staff, and everybody who came across her safe.

she smoothed down her black mini dress and stepped into her baby blue heels, making sure everything looked good before she left her apartment. she quickly made her way down to her car, sliding in and letting erik she was on her way. about 35 minutes later, she pulled up to the Italian restaurant in lower manhattan and pulled up to valet, letting them pull her car around back. she made her way in and greeted the hostess, and they took her towards her brother. "bean!" he said wrapping his arms around her 5'5 frame. "hi bear." she smiled, taking in the hug she had missed the most. they parted, and he pulled out the chair for his sister and she thanked him. "so tell me about jersey, how is it?" he asked as she sipped the wine he had ordered for the two. she smiled, "its good! i've pretty much have found my groove with everybody. i think they're really taking to my style of work and i think the way everybody has responded to it has been good. though." she paused giggling, "there is one guy that quite literally just wants to gossip with me, he knows my role and stuff but just wants to gossip. half the time its funny shit but others its like serious and so i tell him he cant go around blabbing his mouth but i know he doesn't listen." she said and ej laughed. "hows buffalo though, hows josty?" she questioned, a small smile forming on her soft pink lips. ej laughed, "he's great! he's happy to have me on the team...y'know he still asks about you." ej said grinning and miranda rolled her eyes. "last time i checked..isn't he the one that said we couldn't be together after he was traded? that he didn't want to do long distance?" she smirked, quirking an eyebrow. he shrugged, "i think because im now there, he realizes how much he's missed having a johnson in his life." he said with a toothy smile. she rolled her eyes, "alright big bear." she hummed.

_

as the dinner progressed, miranda's phone hadn't stopped vibrating in her clutch that sat next to her. erik took notice of it, but did not say anything at first. "hey randy, you wanna check your phone?" he asked slirping spaghetti in his mouth. her eyebrows creased in confusion, and she pulled out her phone to see multiple messages from nico as well as a few phone calls. she read the messages, nico clearly in some sort of distress. "do you need to take it?" ej asked and she looked up at him, "its one of the players." she said looking back down debating if she wanted to call or text. she chose the latter,

miranda: you ok?

nico: i dont know whats happening

miranda: whats going on? are you hurt? do you need an ambulance or me to call somebody?

nico: thats why i was calling you. my chest hurts, i cant breathe.

miranda sighed knowing what was happening.

miranda: do you need me to call?

nico: can you come over? i need to talk face to face with whatever this is

miranda thought long and hard, before looking back up at erik. "one of the players needs me to come to his place and i-i don't know." she paused to bite her lip, thinking if ethically she could. "ej-im sorry." she said looking up at him but he waved her off. "your job calls, don't worry randy. go, ill take care of the bill. ill see you tomorrow." he said standing up to hug the girl. the big bear wrapped his arms around her, kissing her head before they pulled apart. "ill let you know when i get home!" she said before taking off towards valet. she texted nico, asking for his address and he responded quickly. back to jersey.

_

she knocked on the highrise apartment, alerting the swiss inside. he stood up and dragged his feet towards the door and as soon as she saw the state of nico; she knew she was in for a long night. he opened the door wider for her, and she took in the surroundings. clean, crisp, and sleek, she thought. she turned around to face nico, keeping a bit of distant between the two. he took in her attire and then looked at her. "were you on a date?" he questioned, with somewhat of a distaste in his mouth. she shook her head, "no i was out with my brother. him and buffalo just got in." she said and he was confused. "my brother is erik johnson." and then nico's eyes went wide. "i had no idea, I'm so sorry!" he said feeling bad, his anxiety rising even more. she shook her head, "no no, its ok! i just want to make sure you are ok nico. whats going on?" she asked softly. he closed his eyes and sighed. she took in his composure and his inability to relax. may it be because he's the captain and he feels as if he can't show any weakness or maybe its pride. "take your time nico, you don't need to spit it out all at once i promise. whatever you feel comfortable with." she said trying to gage his reaction. he nodded, reopening his eyes, and looked towards the kitchen. "would you like some water?" he asked shooting himself in the foot, calling himself stupid for not asking it to begin with. "sure, ofcourse, thankyou." she said following him towards the kitchen now. she could tell that it was eating him up inside, and knew at some point she'd need to inquire about it. but tonight was not the night. she sat down at the island counter, and he pulled out a bottle of water for himself and her.

"how are you feeling right now nico?" she asked sipping a bit before setting it back down. he shrugged, "i feel a bit better, after you said you were coming i kind of calmed down a bit but my mind wont st-stop racing. which is causing my to be nervous about something, i have no idea." he rambled as bit and she nodded. "what are the thoughts you're having? are they about hockey, personal things, family?" she asked tilting her head to the side just a bit. he bit his lip, "its-its nothing." he said closing off, and she nodded "okay. in order for this to work nico and to understand more of why you called me, can you explain a bit about how you were feeling earlier?" she questioned, treading water. he was either going to answer it or retaliate and get upset. he sighed, "it felt like i had a weight on my chest or something, i couldn't breathe. my breathing was fast and shallow, i was sweating..i-i cried a bit." he said looking down at the ground. "I've never had that happen before though, it was a shock and so that made it worse." he said looking up at miranda. "well it is completely normal, nico. i can assure you that. sometimes our bodies can not always tolerate or compensate our anxiety. thus, leading to anxiety attacks. so we have chills, the sweats, overwhelming thoughts for various reasons. could be from work, could be our family or personal life or it can just be triggered for no apparent reason." miranda explained and nico nodded. "i don't want you to feel as if its wrong or that it means you are weak, because that is far from the truth. i like to say that when people have an anxiety or panic attack, it shows how strong mentally we are because to get to the point of an attack we would have had to gone through so much turmoil mentally and emotionally. and sometimes the only release is for those to happen. to think of how much you might have been taking on and that is remarkable in itself. besides, having an anxiety attack makes humans more resilient." and that made nico relax just a bit.

"well good thing you said that, i was feeling like a freak over here." he said cracking a small smile. she nodded, "yeah no, you are from a sneak i can assure you. if its considered to be a freak, then call me one. i don't wanna feel left out." she hummed, "you've had them before?" nico asked quickly. she nodded after realizing what she had said and the fact that she shared personal info, "uh yes. I've had them throughout my childhood and adolescence. its gotten better over my young adult years but i still get them occasionally. especially when i feel like a fraud at work or in my personal life." she said shrugging. "a fraud?" he questioned, moving towards the kitchen island and resting his elbows on it, their hands now only inches away from one another. she nodded, "yes. i believe and feel as if i don't belong where i have ended up. i believe that i don't know enough, have enough experience for the work i do. and then i don't feel as if i deserve the friends i have, especially the ones i made back in denver. I've always thought that if they did not know my brother, they wouldn't give me a second look." she said shrugging before she took some sips of water.

nico took in that information and his heart broke just a bit, she didn't understand what a god send she was. how kind, open hearted, always willing to help in any way she could and on top of that, she was hilarious. always had a joke or two to cheer up some of the guys. he didn't like how she sold herself short over friendships. "i don't buy that for one second." he said, "the friends part. you're pretty rad miranda." he hummed and she felt her cheeks heat up just a bit. "oh really? i guess ill add that to my case file." she said laughing, and nico chuckled softly with a smile forming.

"what do you like to do to relieve any stress or anxiety?" she asked, trying to regain focus on why she was here. he shrugged, "does hockey count?" he asked genuinely. she nodded, "ofcourse but that is also your job. so anything else that you do outside of work would be a good place to start." she said and he nodded. "i uh like to hang with the guys, um i read a bit, i like to workout and play video games." he said, "but i don't know if those count." he said but she nodded anyways. "ofcourse! anything you do to distract yourself in a healthy way and relieve stress are coping skills, the ones you have are great nico!" she said smiling and he nodded, mirroring hers. "i would stick with those but would not limit yourself to just those. there are so many out there, i can definitely offer some others when i go back into the office monday." she offered and he nodded.

"thankyou, i definitely am feeling much better now. you've relieved a lot of anxiety i had tonight, by just talking and listening to me." he stated and she nodded. "I'm glad nico, i find that talking about things in a safe place can do wonders. and having somebody understand you as well can be beneficial. would you like to come see at some point this week?" she questioned and he nodded. "yeah id like that." he said smiling. the smile he gave everybody closest to him. "great, ill send out a few times for you and we can go from there." she said standing up. he nodded, again taking in her outfit. "sorry, i came right from manhattan so i didn't have time to change." she said feeling self conscious, "nonsense..you look uh, you look really nice." he said. really nice? oh my god, he thought. "well uh thankyou nico, ill see you monday. text me if you need anything else." she said praying to the universe to get out of there as quick as possible. he nodded her walking her back to the front door, he thanked her once more and she slipped out.

_

she woke up the next morning to a text from her boss, stating the he needed to see her in the office today. she groaned as she stood up, her body feeling the effects of only getting 6 hours of sleep. she quickly got ready and stopped at starbucks before heading over there. when she walked into the arena, some of the players had just begun to arrive. she slipped between arena personal trying to get to her office. once she opened it, she saw nico sitting in one of the seat two seats in front of her desk. "ah hi nico, how can i help you?" she questioned setting her bag down under her desk and sitting down. "i wanted to apologize for calling you over last night. it was way outta line and it shouldn't have happened." he said feeling remorseful and guilty for the reprimand she was about to get, "oh uh, no problem nico. its all good." she said trying to reassure him but she could tell that by the look in his eye, it was not. "i have to go see larry, ill stop by and talk to you guys soon. just check in." she said as they both stood up. he only nodded before walking out. she sighed, placing her hands on her hips. what did all this mean? she did not have time to ponder anymore because larry knocked on the door. "hi larry! what did you want to speak about?" she questioned, her hand raising for him to sit down in front of her. he sat down sighing, not sure of how to say what he was about to say. "you're fired miss johnson, i'm sorry i have to do this. but you are not permitted to treat players at their residences." larry said feeling horrible, he really liked miranda but nobody from upper management liked that she did what she did. "wait-what? he was having a crisis! i went over there, besides. nobody wanted to tell me this, tell me what i cannot do?" she said as her heart beat began to rise. he shook his head, "it was in your contract." he stated and she shook her head. "larry excuse my language, but what the fuck? it was not!" she said taking out the contract she kept in her desk. she threw it on the table before them, "you no what no. I'm taking this." she said snatching it up and putting it in her bag. "seriously larry what the fuck. fuck you." she said angrily. she hoisted her bag up and threw open the door, and made her way down the hallway toward her car.

"miranda!" he screamed but she didnt budge. she continued walking faster now, weaving in and out of people. she sighed knowing that she was about to pass the lockerroom and most likely a group of guys playing soccer. "miranda!" larry yelled again, gaining some attention from people. "don't you fucking say another word larry. you guys will be hearing from my lawyer." she spat as she turned around to face him. larry froze taking in the words, and knew she was serious. the group of players looked up as soon as she had said that. all of them confused and looking at one another. she shook her head turning around and continued towards the exit. larry stood there shocked, and mentally panicking. they did not need a scandal to get out, and he quickly made his way out to find somebody in upper management.

°

the one where she confronts nico.

she sat at the bar, sitting next to a friend she had made in her time here in jersey. "i cant believe they didn't even give you a warning! fuck them, I'm never supporting them ever again." molly spat, and miranda chuckled. the two had had there fair share of cocktails the past 2 hours as they conversed. "but that means you can come work with me!" molly added causing the dark brunette to giggle. "we'll see. I'm sure erik would want me to come to buffalo." she sighed. "or ill go back to denver." she said shrugging. molly nodded before swearing, "you are fucking kidding me." she growled seeing some of the devils players walk in. miranda followed her eye sight before the taste of vile hit her throat. "fuck off." she mumbled, pinching her nose. "lets go." molly said looking at her phone calling an uber. "yes lets." miranda sighed, "lets head outside it'll be five minutes." molly said and they both stood up. as they began their dissent out, nico took notice of the dark haired girl. he immediately felt guilty and a sense of dread washed over him. "isn't that-" jack didn't even finish his sentence before nico was off to go talk to the girl. molly and miranda held hands as they filtered their way through and miranda felt a tap on her shoulder as they were close to the door. she turned around and looked up at nico. "oh no not you." she growled but he wouldn't let her leave that quickly. "wait miranda!" he said but she was not in the mood. "what do you have to say nico, huh? wanna let everybody else in the world know that i came to your place last night to talk? huh! you wanna tell explain to them that that was the only reason why i came over? you wanna tell management that that was all that happened? because they think other stuff happened and i'm you know quite disappointed in you, being the captain and all. let me know if you need some help, i know a great captain that can help you out if you need it." she seethed, molly and the rest of the team taking in the interaction between the two. nico felt like an ass watching her as she walked out. he felt like an idiot too for telling a trainer that they had seen each other last night. not thinking anything of it when they asked what he did over the two day break.

°

the one where nico apologizes.

miranda was back in denver by new years, taking on a new position with the denver hospital. she would be working in case management and was happy to be back with her friends and the organization that adored her. she worked part time for the avalanche, after nathan mackinnon begged for her to come on for the rest of the season. he accredited some of his work these past few years to her. even if she was just a student at the time, her advice had helped tremendously. it was right before all star break when the devils came into town and she was dreading the game. she stood down near the entrances that the players used to get to the lockerroom. she was chatting with the head sports psychologist about a research article they'd both read in the past when nico saw the girl. she did not notice him at first but when she heard jack, she knew that the devils were arriving. she turned to look when she heard the whiney voice call her name. barabra the psychologist laughed and then bid her goodbye until after the game. "if it isn't mr hughes." she said crossing her arms, "oh it is me johnson. I'm sure you've missed our gossip sessions." he said cheekily, smiling widely. she rolled her eyes, "not in the slightest, bud." she said smiling just a bit. he grabbed his chest where his heart was, "that hurts." he said causing her to giggle. she saw luke walk in and she smiled to him and he waved back with one. "hows luke doing?" she asked the older brother, and he shrugged. "taking it one game at a time. day by day." and she smiled. "well good, im glad." she hummed. nico stood by jack, waiting to continue their walk together but also hoped there would be a chance to apologize. "well jack, good luck with the game." she said bidding her farewell. he nodded, saluting her briefly before turning back around. as miranda was about to take off, she heard her name. "miranda!" nico called out, his thick swiss german accent sending shivers down her spine. she sighed stopping and turned around, "yes?" she asked curtly. "can we talk..in private?" he asked and she thought for a brief second. "come e're." she said motioning for him to follow. they walked off into a hallway over from the opponent's lockerroom that was deserted. "yes, nico?" she asked, and he sighed. he knew he didn't have much time, "im sorry." he blurted, and her lips turned inward. "im sorry i said something without clarifying what had happened. im sorry i didn't defend you or speak to management. i fucked up badly, i know that and i wish i could take it all back." he said taking in her reaction.

her arms were crossed per usual, her neutral stance. "nico, i-i cant talk about this." she said shaking her head. he knew why, he knew about the lawsuit going on. "yeah, i know. I'm sorry about it though." he said and she nodded. "yeah, thanks." she mumbled. " i really am, you were an asset to our team. larry couldn't crack half these guys in the time he's been here and it took you all of 2 days to. the guys miss you, especially me." he said the last part softer. her eyebrows crinkled, "you made my job easier ofcourse." he teased. "ahh gotcha." she said rolling her eyes playfully. "its unfortunate that you guys are the most affected by this. the constant in and out of psychologists and therapists is not good for the morale and the mental health of the team, so I'm sorry you guys are going through the ever-revolving door." she said and he nodded. "yeah its too bad. i don't particularly feel comfortable talking to any of them." he said non chalantly. alrighty, she thought. "i hope things get fixed soon nico, i really do. if any of the guys need a place to talk outside of larry, i can send some referrals out." she said looking at nico in the eye, and he nodded. "thankyou miranda and again...i really am sorry." he said genuinely. she nodded, "its all good." she said. "good luck tonight, you'll need it." she said grinning as she began to walk backwards towards her team. his face lit up in a cheeky smile one second and in the next she was gone.

°

the one where they confess.

molly and miranda laid out in the sun of sunny hawaii, as by week had finally rolled around for the nhl. molly jumping at the opportunity to join the girl, her brother and her brother's fiance. the two chatted for a while in the sun, sipping on some mimosas after brunch. miranda stood up, stating that she was going to get another. she walked from the private pool area where the villas were and walk towards the main one that had a bar. she took in her surroundings, lots of families, couples, and great, the familiar group of guys from jersey. she sighed hurrying towards the bar across from them, and she quickly ordered another mimosa and a water bottle. she tapped her fingers tapped the wooden bar and took in the slight chill that was coming off of the ocean just beneath them. "holy fuck- johnson?" she heard to her right and she turned to see john marino. "john!" she said smiling softly, "how are you?" she asked taking the mimosa and water bottle from the bartender. "good, good! can never be sad with by week." he mused and she nodded, "no you cant, or else i would knock some sense into ya." she teased and he laughed. "oh don't we know it." he said laughing. "randy!" she heard her brothers name from the left of her, and she turned to see him waving her over. "good luck with the rest of the season and have a wonderful rest of the week." she said before walking off.

she walked towards erik when she heard the group of guys talking loudly, all now looking over to see the girl. nico took in her two piece suit, the soft waves hanging off of her shoulders and the confidence she possessed. "whats up bear?" she asked erik, shielding her eyes from the sun. "dana wants to know if you guys wanna get dinner at 7." he stated and she nodded, "i don't see why not. we didn't have any plans." she said and erik nodded, "see ya bean!" and she smiled, "see ya big bear." and the two went their separate ways. nico watched as she went back to the private area with bungalows. he prayed to the universe he'd see her again.

-

it was 6:20 when molly and miranda went down to the hotel bar before dinner. the two had napped and sobered up since their mimosas and sun time. they stood there drinking some champagne, when molly had left briefly to use the washroom. miranda sat down on the bar stool and took out her phone. she heard the familiar deep voice of the swiss she hadn't seen for a few weeks. she turned to her right and saw him in black collard shirt, black suit jacket and black pants. he looked good, she thought. too good. she turned back to her phone and hoped molly would come back soon. "fancy seeing you here." she heard and she turned towards nico who had a toothy grin. "hi nico." she said setting down her champagne. "what can i do for ya?" she said turning towards him. "well for one you can let me join you." he said boldly and she was taken back, but found her self nodding softly. he sat down next to her, "how are you enjoying your by week?" he questioned, sipping his drink. "its been nice thus far, especially when i'm not the one footing the bill." she grinned and nico chuckled. "i told ej to spread the wealth one time years ago and thankfully he hasn't stop providing." she teased causing nico to laugh again. "all jokes aside, im extremely grateful for him. he just doesn't know how to take no for an answer." she said as nico looked at her. "oh really? so you're not a moocher?" he grinned, and she grinned. "not in the slightest!" she said placing a soft hand on his arm. he looked down at it, and then back at her. she didn't move it, especially not when he looked back at her. she left it there for a few seconds, before pulling away. "sorry, i should probably be finding molly. we've got dinner with my brother and his fiance." she said clearing her throat. nico nodded, a tad bit sad. "well i think she'll be a bit occupied for a while longer. saw john sneaking her into the elevator as i walked in." he mused and miranda's eyes went wide. "no way!" she said, her hand going back to the spot it had just occupied.

"things have happened since you left, that happened quickly after you screamed at me in the bar." he said and her face flashed through guilt and remorse. "yeah...sorry about that." she said biting her lip. he shrugged, "i needed it. it knocked some sense into me." he hummed finishing the rest of his drink. "well now i don't feel as badly." she grinned, enticingly. he looked at her, and she at him. her hand softly moved down his arm, her head cocking to the side. call it alcohol, call it the heat of the moment, or the fact that she'd been thinking about nico since she spoke to him in his apartment. "maybe you could also sneak me into the elevator." she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. nico had a mischievous look on his face, once he realized what she was getting at. "lets go." he said pulling her off of the bar stool by her hand.

as soon as they entered the elevator, nico placed his hands on her waist pulling her in closely. "god I've been waiting for this." he whispered in a husky voice. "oh really?" she teased innocently, catching the heat in his eyes. "hmm mmm. couldn't wait to tell you that i like you...the first moment we met i was a goner." he said as the elevator dinged to his floor. "is that so?" she grinned, feeling butterflies flutter in her chest. "uh huh. surprised you didn't notice that long stares, always finding ourselves in the same area and the smiles i reserved just for you." he said as they entered his room. "i thought you were just being nice, nico." she hummed, placing her hands on his chest. "oh no, only reserve those smiles for the girl who stole my heart one casual conversation at a time." he hummed sliding out of his suit jacket as she began to work on his buttons. "i feel quite flattered, cap." she grinned looking up at him with a glint of excitement in her eyes.

clothes were quickly discarded after that, teasing and many kisses were exchanged after that. "well its a good thing i like you too, nico." she said as she laid in his arms. she looked up at him with a smirk, before he leaned down and kissed her. "how bout i come to denver after the season ends?" he questioned and she nodded. "id really like that, really would." she smiled resting her head on his chest. they looked at one another for a minute more, "now tell me whats going on in that pretty head of yours." she smiled and he blushed. "where do i begin?" he smiled.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

pls like and reblog if you enjoyed, it would mean a ton!

@hischierhaze @nicohischierz @jayda12 @skatesnstuff

[making-monsters-happy]

New Years Vampire Romance

Good evening! I have a new romance I wrote for New Year's. Hopefully, you guys like it. Let me know if you'd like to see more from them or another couple...yeah. I love reading yall's messages, and if you liked it. It's pretty hot, but I'm biased. It's a little under 2k words.

18+ only.

Nsfw..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You leaned back in your seat slightly, trying to get a better glimpse of the creature standing before your oven. He looked human enough; a brown mess of loose curls sat on his head, pushed back from him, continually running his hands through it to push it out of the way of his face. He was at least 6’5; you remember how he leaned down to get in the door once he was invited in, almost like how he was hunched now over the stove. He turned it on and paused, facing you. His skin had no pores and was sun-kissed, and you found yourself compelled to reach out and touch his face. His warm red eyes caught yours, and you looked away without meaning to you. No matter how used to seeing them you thought you were, it was always jarring when he looked at you with such intensity. You couldn’t help but wonder what he saw in you. A meal? Something weak? Something titillating? There was some attraction; he hadn’t killed you, even when you’d done what no one in their right mind in your village would: you’d invited a vampire into your home. Maybe the attraction was just on your end; they could do that to humans, right?

            While you were insane for offering him refuge, it wasn’t his sharp features that caused you to invite him in. If you lived to tell the tale and someone asked you, you’d say you’d been tricked into letting him in. When you first saw him, he was in the form of a small brown bat. Bats carried all sorts of diseases, but when you saw the tiny creature on your doorstep, you felt compelled to help it or put it out of its misery. All you said to the beast as you returned with a towel to pick it up was, “Let’s get you inside and fixed up.” The next thing you knew, you felt a puff of air hit you so hard you shut your eyes and took a few steps back. When you opened them, he walked inside your home, thanking you for your hospitality and introducing himself as Alessandro.

            “You’re staring at me.” His voice is deep; it makes him seem louder than he is. You, on the other hand, find yourself almost whispering.

            “Should I not?”

            “Most say it’s wise not to; they believe it’s easier for us to corrupt your mind if you do.”

            “Is that true?”

            Alessandro doesn’t answer your question; he smiles, flashing his sharp fangs, and sits up, looking down at you. You can feel a longing starting to ache from in between your legs. You straighten yourself in your seat, your nipples protruding from the thin silk night robe you wear during the winter to help keep you warm during the night. You wonder if he notices.

            “Why are you here?”

            “Because you invited me in, did you not?”

            “On false pretenses.”

            He walks past you and goes towards your curtains, looking out of them. You take a deep breath as he walks by; the husky scent of the outdoors and an unfamiliar cologne leaves you wanting to smell more.

            “I’ve been watching you. Your curtains are very thin; it’s not hard to look in, even for human eyesight. The men leaving the brothel may, at best, be able to see a silhouette when you’re changing into your nightgown, but you must remember my eyes are far better than that. I see everything.”

            You readjust in your seat; the silk of your nightgown is pressed up against your cunt, and you feel the fabric getting wet. The kettle starts to scream, and you cringe, jumping up and running over to take it from the heat. Alessandro steps behind you, his large hand engulfing yours, and leads it over a cup, helping you pour.

            “I can only watch someone I want sit alone in bed, touching themselves, moaning out to no one for so long, imagining it to be my name before I want to hear the real thing. Does that make sense?”

            You nod, your face starting to feel as warm as between your legs as he steps closer to you from behind. You can feel pressure against your lower back from the front of his pants as he drops petals from a flower you don’t recognize into the hot water. Without a second thought, you find yourself grinding back into whatever is nearest your ass to get some friction. It helps, but it is not enough, and you let out a noise of disappointment as he steps to the side and grabs the cup, blowing on it and taking a few sips.

            “I didn’t know vampires could…drink teas. Or wanted to frankly.”

            “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

            He holds the cup and tips it towards you, shaking it some. The green petals float around, and you look up at him.

            “What is it?”

            He doesn’t move, his hands still extended towards you. You blow at the steam and drink what’s left in the cup. You cough and frown at him, looking at the leftover greenery in the cup. It’s bitter, and as much as you want to gag, you keep it down. It tastes like something you’ve had, but you can’t put your finger on it.

            “I wouldn’t say we drink tea much, but we do like to dabble in recreational drug use.”

            “So, you drugged me?”

            Alessandro laughs and walks over towards your room with that knowing grin still on his face.

            “I wouldn’t say it like that, no. It’s just a plant we like to use to increase blood flow. I get a little nippy in the bedroom at times.”

            You walk behind him and put a hand to your cheeks. They are already starting to feel warmer than they had in the kitchen.

            “Well, that makes sense for your victim, but what does it do for you…”

            You trail off and feel your eyes start to shut. The graze of your silk robe touching any part of your body set off alarms; your nipples feel so sensitive that you reach up, pressing your palm to one and then the other. Whimpers kept escaping your lips without meaning to. When you open your eyes, Alessandro lay in the bed in his boxers, nuzzling into sheets, his fangs hanging over his bottom lip. You can’t help but follow the trail of hair from his chest down to his boxers with your eyes.

            Now, you could put your finger on it. Everyone you knew in your community had at least talked about this. Maybe couples needed the herbs to spice up their sex lives or to have more stamina for one another. That explains why any stimulation right now sends you over the edge and into flames.

            “It’s a very fast-acting aphrodisiac. Come here; I want to feel you.”

            Alessandro took your hand and led you to the bed, kissing up your shoulders and to your neck, starting to lick over your vein. You leaned your head to the side, moaning, your hand reaching into the front of his boxers. This time, he’s the one who jolts from your touch.

            Your hand grasps his member, and you rub your thumb over the cum that was already leaking from his tip. With every swipe of your thumb, he whines in your ear and starts to grip your breasts, kneading them roughly before leaning into one and suckling in, looking up at you with his warm eyes.

            You arch your back and started to pump his thick cock before his hand goes over yours again and gently grips you, making you stop.

            “If you keep going, I’m going to cum.”

            “So?”

            Alessandro’s grip loosens, but he continues to help you, watching as the two of you stroked his cock. Although it looked like it was hot to the touch, he was still a dead man walking and maintained a cool temperature even with the assisted stimulation.

            You lean down and lick the base, shaking your hips in the air to show off your body; before you can get it in your mouth, there is cum squirting over your closed eyes and down your nose. You laugh a bit but don’t feel him soften in your hand. He takes your robe off haphazardly and wipes your face with it, leaning down over you while you lay on your back.

            “I’m bewitched. You bewitch me.”

            Alessandro pushes your legs apart and starts to rub at your clit; you reach down and move his hand.

            “I need to feel you, all of you. I want you to drink from me.”

            Before you can say anything else, he’s sliding into you, his hands at your shoulders, holding you still as he plunges deep into you. He wasn’t the biggest you’d ever had, but he knew how to work with what he’d been given. It could’ve been a combination of his experience and the herbs, but you’d never had someone fill you up the way he was now.

            Alessandro holds up your hips for you, pulling you close so you meet his every thrust. All you have to do is sit there and take it; you grip at his hair, then stop self-consciously, your hands going to the sheets. You’d been told in the past that you pulled hair too hard, or when you gripped at your partner’s back, it would hurt them. Since then, you have always made sure to grasp the sheets instead.

            Alessandro lets your hips go and hoists one of your legs up, letting his weight rest on top of you, chest to chest, while his hips work. He takes your hands from the sheets and moves them back to his hair, looking back at you panting.

            “Pull it.”

            “Yeah? Is that okay?”

            You tangle your fingers into his curls and pull his hair, making his head snap back. He nods, moaning loudly in your ear and exposing his fangs before biting your neck. Your back arches and you begin to grind into him, your clit rubbing against his hairy pubic bone. You can’t quiet yourself if you want to. You grip his hair harder, and with a scream, you feel an orgasm come over you so hard your vision goes black.

            You wake up and roll over finding Alessandro on his back, his cock soft resting on his thigh, and eyes closed. You were in one of your nightshirts, both of your dirty clothes piled in the corner.

            “You’re finally awake. I cleaned you up while you were sleeping.” He opens one eye and turns toward you before rolling on his side to see you better.

            “I expected you to leave. Not that I wanted you to, I guess I just thought…”

            Alessandro smiles and you noticed his fangs stained red with blood, your blood. He licks his lips and presses a kiss to the top of your forehead.

            “I told you; you’ve bewitched me. Now you really can’t get rid of me.”

            “Well, as long as we can drink that tea every now and then…I think that’s okay with me.”

            You smile and bury your face in his chest.

[theaveragepsychoticbitch]

HELL YES. Poseidon with a lover who has brown eyes --and he's absolutely crazy for her 🤭

Love brown eyes. I don't know how long I'll be able to make this, but being able to write again is nice♡

Highkey forgot my setup, but GN!Reader x Poseidon || SFW || Warnings for: Nothing. Just brown eye appreciation <3 [Under the cut for my own convenience lmaoo]

Yall I forgot to add tags I'm so😭

As soon as Poseidon awakes, he starts his morning routine.

First, he showers. He uses your good shampoo and conditioner, despite your demands for him to "get out of your stuff."

Doubling down, he uses your lotions and creams as well. He tells himself "it's because a true God bends to no one's will." That "as the god of gods, he can and shall use anything under his own palace's roof."

You sigh whenever he says these. You both know he simply enjoys smelling like you.

Next, he goes to breakfast. He eats his fill, refraining from killing any servants out of concern the screams will wake you.

Then supervises as your breakfast is cooked, picking out each ingredient himself, down to the eggs used in your omelet.

Here, his anticipation truly starts to build. An hour before sunrise, he starts to work. Settling in his office, he sets a timer and tries to spend at least half of the time actually working. Yet, as the minutes dwindle, and the sun's rays begin to peak over the horizon, the stoic Sea God's heart races in true.

This was it, this is what he's been waiting for.

He left the alarm ringing, racing shamelessly to your shared bedroom where the first ray of sunlight broke through the crack in the curtains, and his heart stutters in its beats as you slowly blink open your eyes.

Love. Love and adoration fills him as the sun brings your eyes to life, swirling browns flecked with heavenly gold. A rare shiver runs down his spine as you fix him in place with that gaze of yours, time itself coming to a stop as the world melts down to nothing but the deepest depths of your irises.

He sucks in a hard breath, having forgotten to breath. He rights himself, hoping his featureless mask maintained itself even as he approached the mortal who captured his heart.

He sits down, the edge of the bed dipping under his weight. He holds his hand out, the one he promised to always protect you with, and you lean into it. Batting your lashes lovingly, the shadows created darken the golden browns to a dark chocolate color, deep and mesmerizing.

Mesmerized... yes, that's what he was. Mesmerized by how gorgeous you are, and amazed by how a single set of eyes can enchant him in so many different ways. A moment's glance convinces him you stole his soul; and not so deep down, he thinks, 'I wouldn't mind if they stole it... long as it feels like this.'

In a snap, the sunlight is gone, and your eyes return to they're normal shade of brown. And even in this state, he finds them beautiful. Warm, like coming home; comforting, like an embrace.

You blink, slowly, staring at him with equal adoration. "Up early again I see?" His heart stutters in its beats, the "sleep", having yet to leave your voice, made it soft and quiet, and so, so beautiful.

He hums, guiding you from the bed with gentle hands. "Then you must be stacked work-wise... I'll help after I eat. You can go ahead and return-"

"No."

The two of you pause as you enter the bathroom, locking eyes once more. "...I'll stay here." With you.

The crash of a strong wave can be heard in the background, and slowly, you smile. Words leave your lips, drowned out by the sound of the ocean that suddenly came to life in the background.

But any being alive heard the king of the seas voice in the waves as he kissed his lover and whispered a gentle, "Love you too."

------

A/N: MY PHONES ON 7 PERCENT AHHHH

Yes I know I haven't written in like six years yes I know this isn't as quality as it could've been YES I KNOW I should actually write since this is literally a writing blog but I'm trying okay leave me alone😔

Anyways love yall, be nice and maybe you'll see another boobie post:D love yalllll

[doberbutts]

hey so feel free to delete this if its inappropriate/not the right time to share it

i’m a trans woman and (obviously) i can’t get pregnant, but i did get sexually assaulted by some guys trying to show was one of them. and also having an m marker has caused issues with trying to access resources and shit.

idk this isnt the same thing and all but my point is that im standing with u as some random trans woman with vaguely parallel experiences and im sorry to hear its somehow even worse & more likely for some of yall.

I wanr to preface this with a disclaimer, to get things out of the way first.

I am not trying to say that trans women do not experience devastating sexual assaults. They do. Quite often. Though to me, even once is too often. Rape and sexual assault are terrible, awful things. It's horrible that anyone has been made to go through this.

Nor am I trying to say that your M marker doesn't get in the way of things. When it comes to the domestic violence you experience, or the homelessness rates, or a determination of what prison you go to (esp since y'all are more likely to be wrongfully accused and arrested), or the various aspects of your own reproducive healthcare, your agab and gender marker is absolutely used as a weapon against you.

The question was asked for a unique example. Unfortunately, the conversation around reproductive rights is much different for me than it is for you. But it's also much different for me than for cis women and cis men as well. Those without a functional uterus cannot get pregnant. Those who cannot get pregnant are not forcibly married off to be raped until pregnant as a means of detransition and correction. This misogyny we share with cis women.

However an added aspect of that is that if this happens after we've changed our legal documents, an additional layer of transphobia occurs when insurances and doctors see our M or X markers and deny us care out of hand. Now we are stuck with a pregnancy we don't want and constant reminder of what happened to us, or a huge medical bill with devastating financial consequences.

And that's just for those who got out safety- for those who rely on shelters, again the choice becomes detransition for safety at a woman's shelter, or struggle in silence as a man. That, we share with you, though for different reasons.

A unique interection of transphobia and misogyny specifically experienced by trans men was asked for. That is what I provided. Much like how in Crenshaw's essays one could not provide a complete understanding of "because woman" or "because black" because neither would show the full picture of "because black woman", it is not possible to describe this fully as "because trans " or "because man" because the complete "because trans man" must be provided.

I am of the opinion that there is very little "unique" about oppression- mostly that the various points of intersection change its face. In other words, I think trans men share a lot with trans women, and I don't think that's a bad thing. I also think that doesn't disclude something from earning its own name or having its own place to be talked about.

I have hesitated to post those statistics because they can so easily be twisted to say "trans women don't experience these things" or "trans men have it worse". But, a look at the graphs say the first isn't true, it just happens at a statistically less rate. The second, well, I personally don't think it's useful to quantify who has it worse. I once was in that mindset, apologizing to my mentor (an older trans woman) for complaining about my problems because obviously she had it so much worse.

She told me she doesn't like to think about it like that. For her, she would rather be raped than killed. For me, I would rather be killed than raped. Who has it "worse" depends entirely on perspective. Murder and rape are both terrible crimes to be a victim of. Rather than weighing this violence in a scale, more effort should be put into stopping it from happening in the first place. I think she was very wise. I'm lucky to have known her.

I'm sorry that happened to you. I would like to reach across the table and take your hand, to walk forward into the future together. I think we are stronger when united in this world that hates us. You are my sister. We may fight like siblings, but you're still family.

[mewmewpercy]

After a lot of thinking and researching and scouring for info I've decided to break down exactly why I have such a bad taste in my mouth when it comes to RenHeng

Its the shippers because holy shit you guys are like actually so infuriating sometimes.

With all due respect(which is slowly waning the harder I try) they aren't canon. They also aren't implied. YingFeng are the ones that are married. I am not about to sit through another conversation with someone telling me I didn't play the right quests or pay attention because not only have I played these quests but I've watched them numerous times for data collection. If RenHeng was actually implied they wouldn't be attempting to kill each other every time they meet nor would Dan Heng have literal fucking nightmares about Blade with no change in their relationship.

Another issue yall have is making shit up. I don't spend an average of 25 hours a week rewatching vods of these storylines and quests and I don't spend hours upon hours scouring an entire fuckin region as a mobile player to be told I'm wrong about the story. If there's one thing I trust my knowledge on its this. Dam Feng did the immortality stuff for Baiheng who is almost definitely Bailu who got reincarnated from Foxian to Vidyadhara because of it. Yingxing was his helper which is why he's immortal yes but has no Vidyadhara traits. Baiheng got killed in a past war and they wanted her back easy as. Dan Feng didn't do it for Yingxing. Yes they may have been married or whatever but the fact remains they missed their friend and maybe he tried to help turn Yingxing into a long life species and we can say that's a headcanon but it isn't true.

Next thing I'd like to bring up is how some of you guys get about other ships because hoo boy I've seen shit. I don't know what it is about you guys and hurling the word homophobic at people who don't ship it but yall gotta stop. People not shipping your ship isn't homophobia its a fucking preference. If you don't like a ship dni or whatever(sounds ironic I'm sure but I try my hardest some of yall just love hate bombing other ships I interact with) but maybe don't spread slurs and threats and anger because someone prefers JingHeng instead? I live for the policy of ship and let ship but stop going into places you don't like and dragging others when they never once mentioned you.

Look I love hsr and I love these characters but it's specifically this group that makes it so hard to just enjoy safe spaces for my ships. Now on a lighter note I will say you guys are talented ass artists and writers because holy fuck even just scouring character tags on socials I've seen some beautiful stuff. Keep being awesome and talented just maybe don't be mean?

[persy-r-bozo]

DHMIS- The Yappining! 2/6 - Yellow

i diddnt know who to fully start with! so i decided yellow was my first victim.

Yellow is a very interesting character. he tends to play into the "Dumb yet sweet" character trope. but the steady reveal that this cannot be farther from the truth is amazing.

I feel him and his reflection could mean alot of things. and i believe it does. a part of me thought it could resemble the two sad sides of neurodivergent Youth. "The gifted" and "The trouble maker" gifted kids tend to be given to much pressure to succeed and troubled ones are ignored or just pushed aside.

i don't think the car killed him, just hurt inside and out. Causing a drift within an already possibly drifting family. (Perhaps this switch disappointed some. or made others go mad.) I think the gravestone and mirror could simply mean that version of him is dead. someone who cant be brought back. He's still the same, just not the way others might have wanted him to be.

The batteries could be a metaphor for meds. or hell he could be a cyborg. I mean his dad made a computer that just spawned bitches so i wouldn't put it past him.

the show or the world their stuck within tried to paint yellow stupidly. However he is quite emotionally intelligent. the world tries to paint him as useless but he isn't. I like the idea that yellow can read people very well. he can understand them in ways that make him super helpful, however he has issues with words and thought, often stumbling over himself.

his kindness and optimism is both a blessing and a curse. it makes him easy to control, but it also makes him a sense of stability and comfort.

he is such an interesting character!. a melancholy character. a sunshine behind a cloud. from a blind and innocent lad within the web series to a more dependable one later on. he has much to overcome, we can only hope he may.

But lets get into the-

-RELATIONSHIP VIEWS-

Red: Yellow and red are a very interesting pair. i feel as though yellow likes red. but he can read him, probably better than red can even read himself. Yellow can sense he is a ticking time bomb. that despite his quiet, he is breaking. so yellow is distant, keeping himself always a few steps away, just in case. He trusts red, its hard not to feel a little protected with a big fellow around. but yellow can just sense it. that red could snap, and that trust might break too.

Duck: THATS HIS RIDE OR DIE RIGHT THERE!. his ride or die! yellow loves duck, and feels a sense of comfort from him i think. I like to believe that duck might have even been a non related uncle of sorts. the brain fog may persist but you never forget that one guy whose never related to yall but still shows up. They are chaotic and i love them. while yellow can read people very well but cannot speak very well. Duck cannot read people for shit BUT BOY, IS HE LOUD N PROUD. They are two puzzle pieces together. pure chaotic opposites. This may cause big fights between the two but oddly enough i feel there's potential for the two to work really well together too. What im saying is PLEASE PLEASE IF WE GET ANOTHER SEASION I WANT TO SEE DUCK AND YELLOW HAVE THIER OWN ADVENTURE AND ITS CHAOTIC AND MESSY AND FUNNY AS FUCK PLEASE!!-

Roy: Roy is more sad. yellow loves him, yet that love is not mutual. and if it was it wasn't true families love, as it never stayed. Yellow flinches when Roy shows up in family. Yet he still wants to believe he came for him. Maybe yellow will realize this. that even though he loves him, He's not a good puppet person.

Lesley: This is interesting. If we are to believe she is his mother. he surely doesn't remember her. He Seems uncomfortable within her presence and skittish. But he stays and tries to be sweet. Maybe the reason he seems so skittish around her is because she might be the only creature he cant read that well. She's a mystery, her minds a mystery her everything is an enigma. Even to him. I don't think he remembers her at all. But one things for sure, even in the face of the unknown my boy aint rude.

EXTRA YAP JUST FOR YOU GUYS <3 !!!!!!!!!!

Yellow and clayhill-

Even though clay hill issnt cannon in the slightest and is played as a joke for all the older fans and the creators themselves IM A FREAKAZOID OK? IM INSANE! (i made a small headcannon weird thingy about yellow guy and clayhill to fit clayhill and its "Inexistence" into the series.) BEACUSE IM A MAD MAN OK!!?

I thought of the idea of clayhill being yellows little fanfiction (Babes first fanfiction!! he's following in the footsteps of his eldritch world building parents / guardians!!! <3 ) Yellow used it as a way to vent his little brain foggy daja vu head away.

Ill go though what i remeber clayhills plot line to be. Key thing is remember because I live in the US and i learned off of word of mouth mostly.

Its yellows ideal situation. hes with the other two. they are safe in a town with neighbors and people who love them and see them. Red is calmer, duck is more joyous. its yellows birthday today!. But a mean key comes to life and the mayor is missing.

Duck follows the key and is manipulated and hurt by steave. Yellows venting his frustrations with ducks blind following of the world even though it hurts him. but he understands, its because some of the objects are just so mean. Red runs away, Yellows venting his fears or daja vu like feeling that red will run away. leaving him all alone. He understands it might be for the greater good (finding the mayor) but he is still scared.

Yellow on the other hand, Gets a make over, he outsmarts an object. he finds a way to rescue duck and find red. to save the entire town and have his birthday party at home!. and i believe someone said the age on his badge changed from 38 to 48?

well if it did that might be yellow wishing to be older. Thinking if he was older he could control more things, talk better. Help more often. So in this world. everyday his is birthday, everyday he gets older. everyday he is seen and in control.

But This level of escapism doesn't really work for Lesley/Roy. so whenever they can they remind him that clay hill isn't real. it never was. and it never will be.