#and i'm not kidding I've lost count how many times I've watched it in the past couple days since i found it!!
Video
youtube
This is such a brilliant music video and I am so addicted to watching/listening to it!
#a fantastically created music video with each Doctor from NewWho seasons#and i'm not kidding I've lost count how many times I've watched it in the past couple days since i found it!!#doctor who#ninth doctor#tenth doctor#eleventh doctor#twelth doctor#thirteenth doctor#music video#youtube#run (onerepublic)#i think queue need a doctor
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HEART TO HEART
₊⊹ carl x reader
7x1 spoilers, tara is readers sister figure, 0.7k words, not proofread oops!, implied afab reader
3 questions that had led you to the semi-stable life you had now. carl had found you on a run with his father. you'd looked harmless enough despite walker blood layered on your clothes.
"dad, stop. i got it, it's fine." the younger one says making his way over to you. his father watched cautiously, hand hovering by his waist.
you're confused at his interaction and reach for your knife to defend yourself. that was until he spoke again. only this time, to you.
"it's okay, 'm not gonna hurt you. i want to help." you could only furrow your eyebrows. why would he want to help you?
you say your first words since their arrival, "do you have a shelter?" he slightly smiles and you resume, "it’s fine if you don’t tell me, i know we don’t know eachother but—"
"how many walkers have you killed?"
once again, you were confused. you glanced over his shoulder to the man who’d appeared to be his father. you nervously twirled your fingers,
"i’ve lost count."
"how many people have you killed?"
wow, he really gave you no time to think between each question. "one."
"why?"
"they were going to kill me. i had to so it wouldn’t be me down the line."
he’d ended up taking your weapons, which only consisted of a 9mm and a pocket knife you’d taken from a dead one. you were happy to give them up if it meant shelter.
you’d finally arrived to the gates and you could see a woman opening them.
"there’s food ‘n runnin’ water here." rick said.
you could only smile and thank him profusely. you really hoped this would be where you settled forever.
that was when you met carl. getting to know him was a different story.
it’s been a few days since you were welcomed to alexandria. tara had been kind enough to be a big sister to you, and you saw carl often. even if it was from a distance.
you’d found yourself sitting on one of the porches, watching everything around you. your eyes found carl, making his way over to you with two glasses.
"thirsty?" he hands you one of the cups and sits down next to you.
you smile, and thank him before taking a sip.
"so what do you think?"
you hold up a finger and swallow the lemonade you had in your mouth, "oh it's good, a little sweet—" he starts laughing, leaving you embarrassed and a bit confused.
"i meant alexandria, silly. what do you think of the place?" oh that made a lot more sense.
"i like it, i feel safe and at home here. reminds me of what everything used to be." he nods at your words.
"y'know, you never told me what happened to your eye?" he turns to look at you and explains how he’d gotten shot. "i'm sorry."
he purses his lips together, "it’s not the first time, but that’s just the world we live in now."
two weeks from that day, you guys were officially a couple.
you’d heard about negan and what'd happened to glenn and abraham. truth be told, you were horrified. of course you'd seen people die, killed walkers, and other horrific things, but negan struck fear in you, more than those could.
your head rested on carls chest as he stroked your head.
"carl?"
he hums in response.
"i think this's the only time i've been worried since i've been here."
he exhales before responding. " 'm not gonna let anything happen to you. i'll kill negan myself, i swear." the two of you fell asleep like that.
when you woke up, carl was no where to be found, and neither was rick. you thought nothing of it, and went about your business. you stayed with olivia, helping her watch judith. that was, until you heard the front door open and negan asking for rick.
your heart dropped. why was he here? you were currently upstairs with judith, so that's where your focus lays. you wanted to be concerned for carl, but if negan was going to kill him, he would've already done it, right?
"it’s just a water heater—"
"are you serious kid? come on."
what you'd been anticipating had finally happened, the door swung open and you saw carl and negan.
"well, shit." he points his over to carl, then back to you and judith. there was a grin forming on his face, but carl quickly denies his suspicions. "she’s my sister."
he continued smiling and took judith from your lap. you look over to him and he could only give you an apologetic look that let you know it was okay.
the rest of that day was a complete blur for you. you'd watched spencer and olivia die right in front of you. you spent most of your time in you room since that happened, with tara checking in on you.
"carl‘a worried about you." she says while falling back onto your bed. you scoff, "and how would you know that?"
"it's pretty obvious when he purposely walks by the house 5 times in one day instead of being productive." this earns a laugh from both of you, and you realize, she's right.
"he's going to do something about it, i've seen the look in his eyes." tara knew someone was going to take him out, and if it wasn't her, it was going to be one of the grimes'. she wanted to kill negan just as much as the next person.
"i know, and i'll be right there with him." she lightly nudges your shoulder, "tell him that, you haven't spoken to him in two days."
you'd began making your way over to his house, and you were met with michonne at the door. she gave you a knowing look and a smile, "he's upstairs," she said.
you leaned against the doorway, "hi." he tears his gaze away from his comic to look at you. "you decided to stop avoiding me?" his voice was lighthearted, but you still felt guilty.
"sorry that i've been avoiding you. i guess i'm just scared of everything, of losing you." he motions for you to come sit next to him on the bed.
"you're not going to lose me. and i know you're scared, but we have to face it together." he continues, "what ever happens, i'm going to be right beside you."
you sit next to him, which gave you a sense of comfort. "do you really think we can beat him?"
"i know we can beat him. we have hilltop on our side." he smiles.
"do you remember when we met?" you're not sure what brought about your question. maybe you just wanted something other than negan to talk about. "yeah. thought you were badass, despite the situation."
you roll your eyes and scoff, "i was scared out my mind! do you know how intimidating it is-"
"but i knew you'd fit in here."
you were glad that carl was the one that had found you. the two of you were practically inseparable, and taking down the saviors would just be another thing the two of you did together.
"me too." you leaned over so your head fell on his shoulder. you couldn’t ask for a better place to live, nor a better boyfriend.
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"Strap in, kid. You're not gonna want to miss this view." - Sgt. Hunter
I've seen a few others make a tribute post for the batch and I felt some words pulling at my chest.
I was a latecomer to the fandom, I binged season 1 & 2 in July of last year and it's been a wild ride since. I've laughed and cried and everything in between. It's hard to even articulate what this show means to me.
I began my Star Wars journey like many others, with the original trilogy at some point in childhood (you could consider me a zillenial). I liked them, but I was much more of a Harry Potter nerd at the time, my head was at Hogwarts. The prequels, however captured my heart. I don't remember when I first watched TCW, but it's very clear my heart belongs to the times of the Republic.
Like things often do, other fandoms have faded out of my peak interests, Harry Potter, Hunger Games and Maximum Ride to name a few, but any time I've come back to Star Wars, it feels like coming home. A galaxy far far away so vast and full of hope and love and grief and sorrow.
The last year has been far from easy. For the last few years, that feels like all we've been saying, huh? But in all seriousness, I really did loose myself in the past year, but oddly enough, Star Wars was a constant for me, it was an escape. I joined tumblr right after I binged season 1 & 2 of The Bad Batch and immediately fell in love with the wonderful world of fans and writers and artists here.
At first, I was a lurker, just a name that popped into the reblogs, but I began interacting more and more. I've brushed on this with a couple people (so sorry for repeating myself), but it was actually through reading fanfiction, that I came to terms with the fact that I needed to leave a 2.5 year relationship. It's not that I 'fell out of love' with them or anything, I just realized I didn't trust them as much as I should, I didn't want to share as much as I should, I wasn't being fulfilled in the ways I needed. And for that, fanfic authors, I thank you. Please never stop creating.
I also learned a lot about myself, get ready cause I'm about to get cheesy.
Hunter, you brought me a lot of comfort. I saw how heavy the wellbeing of your squad weighed on your shoulders. How you sacrificed and starved yourself, mentally and emotionally for their safety and benefit. I've lived that more times than I can count and with you, I didn't feel quite as alone in that experience. Even though we never talked, and we never will, I feel like you saw me.
Crosshair, you healed some of my faith in humanity. That people can change, they can see the error in their ways and turn against a system they just sort of slipped into. You reminded me that healing isn't linear, and that's okay. You reminded me that courage and bravery aren't the absence of fear, but they are going and facing the mountain despite every atom in your body telling you to turn the other way.
Echo, you reminded me it's okay to leave a group if your goals don't align. That it's not always an "in or out" situation. They can still be your family, people you rely on and who can rely on you even if you're not sharing bunks or meals anymore. You also reminded me that no matter how dire a situation is, or how grumpy you may be, a little humor goes a long way.
Wrecker, you reminded me that people's perception does not define who you are. You can be big and gentle. you can love explosions and destruction and still be very intuitive. You can take some time to process things and still be skilled and intelligent. You reminded me to take joy in the simple things, a Lula, some Mantel mix, an ice cone. Things are always a little better with a full belly.
Omega, you brought back some of my childlike innocence. You approached the galaxy with wide eyes full of wonder and always gave people the benefit of the doubt. You never lost hope. Even though you had to grow up too fast, you didn't let it break you, you still opened your heart to anyone who would see it.
Tech, dear Tech. You reminded me to never dull myself or apologize for being authentically me. That my interests and skills are a good thing, no matter how niche they are. That I shouldn't be embarrassed or feel annoying for my knowledge or my eagerness to share it. You reminded me that love and humor and kindness and connection come in all shapes and sizes.
I've also made friends in this fandom at a level I wasn't even expecting to. I've made connections beyond the galaxy of Star Wars and found love and support in amazing ways. I was pulled to create more than I have in a long time, writing, drawing, hell even building my own server.
For sake of not clogging people's notifications, fighting with Tumblr's tagging bugs, and inevitably forgetting to tag someone: You all know who you are. Three M's, Havoc Marauder.
I began writing this tribute post before I watched the finale, and I'm finishing it after the finale. I'll end my ramble with this:
Dee and Michelle, thank you for bringing these characters to life over the last four years. You two really were the heart and soul of this project and your voices will forever ring true as Clone Force 99.
Filoni, thank you for creating the concepts for this wonderful show that has become such a big part of so many people's lives.
Brad, thank you for the immense work you've put into the show, your direction will not be forgotten.
Jen, Joel, KinerBros, and Noshir (The Four Horsemen), y'all are a bunch of trolls and I hate you for it. I'm sending you my therapy bills. (I mean thank you for your work too, but you've been playing with my emotions for the past three months so forgive me if I'm a bit bitter)
It has truly been an amazing view. I don't plan on going anywhere, the fandom is just getting started, I am on the edge of my seat for all the wonderful fan creation that are yet to come.
CT-9901 ~ Sergeant Hunter ~ Havoc 1
CT-9902 ~ Tech ~ Havoc 2
CT-9903 ~ Wrecker ~ Havoc 3
CT-9904 ~ Crosshair ~ Havoc 4
ARC-1409 ~ Echo
Omega ~ Havoc 5
Clone Force 99 ~ Signing off 🫡
#the bad batch#star wars#tbb#tbb crosshair#the clone wars#tbb hunter#tbb tech#tbb wrecker#tbb echo#tbb omega
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My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'The Bad Batch': The Outpost
As per many people's requests, I've collected a series of texts and Facebook messages from Doug when he watched certain episodes of everyone's favorite Copy Paste Boi show.
Some he was quite pithy on ('Ryan-from-Accounting goes fast but not fast enough to get away from the Bitch Wife Laura'), and others...well, he got excitable, to put it mildly.
Here's one of the more deranged ones, Season 2, Episode 12, 'The Outpost'. Or as Doug calls it: "The Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special."
CW for Language like you wouldn't believe. Doug says "you'll need a permission slip from your momma to read this, I guess."
-----
Daddy Warcrimes is waiting by the Empire's equivalent of a windowless van, because comfort is just not his thing and he really wants the experience of smuggling cocaine across the border one of these days.
Some bitch who looks like she works at a bank is telling these clones that their extended warranty is up. I wanna bring her a bag of pennies and make her count it before I deposit it because I'm sick like that.
So here comes in SOME BLOND JACKASS. Mother of Hell do I hate this guy. Can I just tell you how much I hate him? I hate him like I hate the Crimson Tide, like I hate February, like I hate my mother-in-law. Hate hate hate.
So Daddy Warcrimes, SOME BLOND JACKASS, and some homies get into Floating Probable Cause to lay waste to an unsuspecting Third World country or whatever.
Well, I was wrong! Looks like Elsa and her frozen fingers took over this dump. Disney owns both, so why not. The cold never bothered them anyway. Nope, they’re at somebody’s nasty old storage shed. Why does this remind me of visiting my sister in Wyoming?
Oh, who is this no-frills, salt-of-the-earth, son-of-a-bitch? Is that tanned Kurt Russell? No? It’s Sassy Park Ranger! I like him already. If he was my boss I’d actually show up to work on time and sober, or late and hung over, either way, it’d be a good time with the man. He just seems cool and chill and a nice dude. I bet he’s got homemade beef jerky in his locker and his beard always smells like cigar smoke.
OH SHUT UP STUPID BLOND JACKASS, Jesus Christ I’ve never wanted to hit someone with a folding chair so hard in my life. CALL HIM COMMANDER.
Aw, Sassy Park Ranger’s being nice to Daddy Warcrimes, maybe Daddy Warcrimes will share the Columbian nose candy in the back of the van with Sassy Park Ranger, and Sassy Park Ranger won’t ask about the sobbing family Daddy Warcrimes is probably holding for ransom in the back. It’s all about understanding each other.
This is truly the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas special, snow and friendship and stuff. I hope this doesn’t end up with Daddy Warcrimes 86’ing Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer from the sky, that would traumatize the children. But this is the same studio that produced Bambi so who knows. Didn't he try killing a kid the first episode?
Oh man, Sassy Park Ranger’s lost a lot of his men, that’s real sad. Only two left, Jesus. SHUT UP BLOND JACKASS SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.
(I won’t repeat it, but the amount of times that SHUT UP was texted was….something else- Dr. MM)
Sassy Park Ranger’s taking Daddy Warcrimes on a hike around the place in the middle of a blizzard, probably going to say hi to the yeti hooker they all frequent and show him how to write his name in the snow with pee. He’s such a good guy. If they go sledding I’d be so happy.
Oh, shit! Daddy Warcrimes remembers that he has a job and proceeds to cop some poor bastard in the leg so he can follow the trail of blood in the snow. What in the Fargo am I watching here, does Steve Buschemi show up at one point now. No sledding in this one, I guess.
Well there goes Sassy Park Ranger and Daddy Warcrimes on a heartwarming romp following a crippled burglar in the snow as he bleeds to death. Kevin McCallister would be so proud. Well, now, they found a dead body already. You know, at this point, if Daddy Warcrimes capped Santa in the head this show wouldn’t be less wholesome.
Aw shit Daddy Warcrimes stepped on a landmine, but Sassy Park Ranger watched his training videos that HR made them sit through and disarms it. They’re having a nice convo, I really, really like Sassy Park Ranger. If he dies I’ll be so freaking mad.
(I said nothing, FYI - Dr. MM)
Aw shit, they found the bunker of crazy white people with guns in the snow. It’s confirmed: the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special takes place in Wyoming. Are Daddy Warcrimes and Sassy Park Ranger facing off my brother-in-law and his branch of the VFW near Laramie? Those guys need hobbies besides doomsday prepping and getting drunk in the snow. It ain’t right.
“After all we sacrificed”…man. I feel right here. Is this the child friendly version of Enemy at the Gate? Shit. Please these two bastards need to survive. I need a beer and I wanna hug my wife.
Dr. Meat Muffin, please don't tell me you're letting your babies watch this show. They need that dog from Australia who has fun with her daddy, not this.
Oh shit, avalanche!
Oh no, Sassy Park Ranger. Oh no, oh no. Oh, Daddy Warcrimes.
Thank Christ they made it! They’re gonna save him! They’re gonna save him.
Wait. What.
WHAT THE FUCK, BLOND ASSHOLE.
I HATE THIS JACKASS SO GODDAMNED MUCH, SOLDIER OF THE EMPIRE, I WANNER SHOVE MY SOLDIER UP YOUR EMPIRE YOU STUPID DICK.
FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU
Yay! Daddy Warcrimes finally took out his gun and 86’d that FUCK. CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY!! YAAAAAAY!!!!!
Man...I hope this ends okay for Daddy Warcrimes. I hope his brothers aren't just dicking around somewhere warm while he and the other bros are out dying.
Guess that'll be next episode?"
....Doug snapped SO HARD watching 'Pabu'. Brace yourselves.
#tbb#cloneforce99#the bad batch#tcw#crosshair tbb#the bad batch crosshair#crosshair#crosshair and mayday#mayday clone trooper#tbb mayday#commander mayday#doug talks star wars#doug the neighbor#redneck doug#fuck the empire#fuck lt nolan
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Chris Grey - LET THE WORLD BURN
Okay, I've finally come around to this post. I want to make a small series of posts about what songs I associate with kakaobi. And we'll start with this one.
Honestly, every time I see this song in tiktok, I think of Obito every time. It's just his song.
Lost in the fog
I fear that there's still further to fall
It's dangerous 'cause I want it all
And I don't really care what it costs
Obito had indeed been lost in the fog for a very long time. Both literally and figuratively. He was literally a mizukage in kiri, isn't that funny in the context of the song? And Obito wasn't afraid to use any method to achieve his plans, no matter how great the cost. Though there are still some things he couldn't do.
I shouldn't have fallen in love
Look what it made me become
I let you get too close
Just to wake up alone
It doesn't matter so much which couple you think of when you hear this song - Obito/Rin or Obito/Kakashi. It fits them both. But I'm more interested in writing about Kakaobi because.... I love them more? But who can accuse me of favoritism? That's right, no one.
I look at these lines now and I have a strong association with the mission of the cannabi bridge. Kakashi chooses his teammates and saves each of them, sacrifices his eye and Obito falls in love(or whatever he was feeling at that moment, you think for yourself). Obito gives Kakashi his eye, dies and wakes up alone(Madara and Zetsu don't count, Obito obviously didn't want to see their faces when he woke up).
And I know you think you can run
You're scared to believe I'm the one
But I just can't let you go
Funny, but Kakashi would really never be able to escape from Obito if the need arose, because... Teleportation? Kamui? Shared mindspace? Yeah, Kakashi doesn't stand a chance.
I'd let the world burn
Let the world burn for you
This is how it always had to end
If I can't have you then no one can
I'd let it burn
I'd let the world burn
Well, it's honey, honey🤌. My favorite part of the song. It's so sweet.
We can have many debates about what was Obito's main motivation when he decided to "burn the world", but we can't deny that one of the reasons is Rin and Kakashi. They're the catalyst. And Obito even tells Kakashi about it, though in hints.
Just to hear you calling out my name
Watching it all go down in flames
In fact, I think after all these years of no one calling Obito by his name, Obito really wanted Kakashi to do it. Obito had a hundred percent many times imagined the look on Kakashi's face when he recognized him. How he would react, how events would unfold, and so on.
Obito says he doesn't care what Kakashi calls him. He says his name doesn't mean anything to him anymore. Who are you kidding, boy??? No one will believe you. You activated your mangekyō sharingan on purpose to confirm your identity. You're literally saying to Kakashi, "yes, it's really me." No, seriously, he might not have done that, but still????
Fear in their eyes
Ash raining from the blood orange sky
I let everybody know that you're mine
Now it's just a matter of time
Well it's literally a battle in and after kamui. Obito left Kakashi injured there. He didn't kill him before he got juubi power or after. He could have. I think Obito was thinking something along the lines of "he's already there anyway, no one has access to him but me, so it's fine".
#naruto#obito uchiha#kakashi hatake#kakaobi#hatake kakashi#obikaka#uchiha obito#obkk#kkob#kakaobi songs#obirin#?#lol surprise
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Late top 5 ask because I just thought of it: 5 shows that you are always down to rewatch
What a great question that is also such a mean and incredibly evil thing to ask me, wen-kexing-apologist, Chronic Rewatcher lmfao
So fun fact I have seen KinnPorsche 14 times, Our Flag Means Death 11 times, The Old Guard 11 times, Heartstopper 11 times, The Eclipse probably 6 times, Bad Buddy and ITSAY 4 times, etc, etc, etc. And those are counting all the times I have watched a show all the way through. This is not counting the number of times I have actively gone back to watch specific episodes or specific scenes.
See the problem is sometimes I hyperfixate and then I just have to watch it until it is out of my system, sometimes an OST pops in to my head and then I get the urge to watch the show again, and sometimes I agree to edit the transcripts for the backlog of @the-conversation-pod and @bengiyo and @shortpplfedup start talking about a show and I'm like "ahhh good times! I should rewatch that!"
So you can imagine the stress I am under. I'll have to do this by category
Show I Am Constantly Rewatching: Bed Friend
gif by @perths
I know what you may be thinking, and yes you are correct I am in this rewatch for Uea's emotional journey. Uea is my sweet summer child, I love him, I have adopted him in to my family, his happiness is my happiness and I love love love watching him go from a quiet, reserved, unhappy character who keeps getting put in unfair situations through no fault of his own in to this confident, vibrant, happy person who is on his way towards healing. Often times it can be hard for me to pick A Favorite thing; a favorite character, a favorite scene because there are so. many. good. ones. But I am constantly, and I mean constantly rewatching the scene in Episode 8 where Uea tells King about his past. I have lost count of how many times I've seen it, no even kidding I watched that scene before I went to bed just last week. I will always always be down to watch that show because I love seeing how far my boy is able to grow with just a little bit of love, care, and therapy.
Show I Would Rewatch for an Instant Mood Boost: If It's With You
gif by @jimmysea
I have a difficult time understanding/feeling emotion in my body unless I abstract it in to fiction. So when I experience strong emotions it is typically when something super happy or super tragic happens on screen, in a book, during my D&D game, etc. One of my absolute favorite things is when something makes me so happy that my body is no longer able to contain it and I have to do the Neurodivergent Hand Flappies(TM). I think I spent 80% of this show grinning so hard it hurt my face and doing the Neurodivergent Hand Flappies because it just...they made me so happy. Amane is so sweet, and he deserves happiness, and he is getting his happiness and he's just full of sunshine and I already rewatched this show like immediately after it finished. This show joins my This Could Fix Me list.
Show I Would Be Down to Rewatch for Emotional Catharsis: Eternal Yesterday
gif by @duckflyfly
I have not rewatched this show...yet. But I want to, and I know that I will eventually. I can only imagine that it is sadder and more evil the second time around. I cried soooo hard over this show. But it is beautiful, and it is healing, and the pain is a good type of aching pain that comes with coming to terms with grief. With acknowledging grief. With finding where the beauty and peace lie within death and memory, and the way its claws dig in to you and leave you changed forever. Ghosts can be warm, and this show makes me warm despite it all.
Show I Would Be Down to Rewatch for Content: I Told Sunset About You/I Promised You the Moon
gif by @thii-nii
I think I am in @shortpplfedup's camp about how you find new things to think about every time you watch this show. I actually desperately, desperately own I Promised You the Moon several rewatches because I have seen ITSAY four times at this point and IPYTM once. I am currently rewatching IPYTM with a friend who is seeing it for the first time, so that should help. But the first time I watched this show I was unable to function to notice anything, and it wasn't until the third time I'd watched ITSAY when I was rewatching it to prepare for the podcast panel, that I finally was able to form any level of coherent analytical thought to it. So I would rewatch this at any point just to see what more I could pull out of it.
Show I Would Be Down to Rewatch But Haven't Yet: 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us
gif by @dingyuxi
Bold, based on how intense of a reaction I had to this show, I know. But this was one of my favorites, I never wrote anything about it because I was too busy having a literal mental breakdown over it, one that was so bad I almost had to bail on the entire show with like...20 minutes left of it, and I originally nixed my plan to show it to a friend. BUT I have watched the specific scene that did me in (and only that scene) and it went over fine once I knew to expect it so I do want to watch the whole thing again. I have a friend who I have been forcing to watch BL shows I liked and I watch them with her, and this is on the list. However, I am currently running her through I Promised You The Moon and What Did You Eat Yesterday? Season 2 so this show is still quite a ways out from a rewatch because I am not a total monster and want to give her some modicum of emotional break between those two shows and 180 Degree.
Bonus:
Show I Would Never Rewatch: Enchante
I hate this show truly an unreasonable amount. I hate Theo so much oh my fucking god. I refuse to watch this again and I'm mad that I finished it.
ASK ME MY TOP 5 OF ANYTHING BL
#best of bl#ask game#bed friend#bed friend the series#if it's with you#kimi to nara koi wo shite mite mo#eternal yesterday#eien no kinou#i told sunset about you#itsay#i promised you the moon#ipytm#180 degree longitude passes through us#180 degree#180d#the true answer to this is: my list of shows i'm always down to rewatch is long#my list of shows i will never rewatch is very very *very* short
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Vanilla, Pine, or cinnamon 
Pairings: r x Natasha
Warnings: angst
Word count: 700
Summary: it’s been years since Natasha has made the sacrifice and memories only linger for so long before you start to forget.
I think I miss her more than I remember her. That terrifies me. I don't really remember what she looks like anymore... I know she had red hair and she had green eyes, but I don't remember the shape of her nose, or the color of her lips.
I don't remember what her laugh sounds like or the pitch of her voice, or you know... like the little phrases she would say. I can't remember what she smells like. I want to say vanilla but maybe she smelt more like pine or maybe cinnamon.
I kept all her clothes. I never wanted to wash them because I was afraid it would get rid of her smell so they would just sit in my closet. Sometimes I'd pull out one of her old sweaters and and I'd sleep with it on my pillow just so I could pretend like she was there.
Like it was just one of those gloomy days where we wouldn't get out a bed for ages because the comforter was just so warm and the mattress felt just right and the position of the pillows were perfect. And we'd watch old cheesy 90's movies all day long...
I don't do that anymore because her sweaters lost her sent from all the dust they've collected.
It feels like it's been an eternity since she was last here...
There was something my dad would always say to me and my siblings as kids and it went something like;
"you do not know time until you know how to dance. You don't know time until you know how to paint, compose music and have read Shakespeare. Once you know how to do those things only then can you complain about time."
I think about those words often. Since Nat has been gone I fill my days reading the tragedy's of Shakespeare, sitting at the piano, putting on my old ballet pointés, and most recently, painting.
I've been trying to remember her enough to put her on the canvas. I can't seem to get the correct shade of red for her hair, and I've had to repaint her her nose several times.
But I do remember how much Natasha loved the night sky. All the stars just seemed like magic to her. She also loved... daisies? Or were they tulips? I think they were daisies. So I've painted a field of daisies underneath the night sky with Natasha in the middle of the field.
But no matter how many pictures I have of her to use as a reference, they never captured what she really looked like. They never captured that gorgeous smile she had or the freckles on her nose, or the scars that littered her cheek or the depths of green in her eyes. These are all small things that I remember vaguely.
People don't often visit anymore. Clint and Laura stop by once every few months and Yelena once or twice a year maybe. I haven't heard much from anyone on the team since the funeral besides Peter. He's a good kid. Sends me a message once every few weeks to update me on he's life and he always asks how I'm doing. He keeps me up to date on the outside world.
I so often wish that I could go back to that day and trade places with her. I dream about it sometimes. They are the most vivid dreams I have. When I dream, I get to hear her voice again. But the longer I think about it the more I realize that it's better this way. Deep down, I know that. I know it's better. Because Natasha will never have to know what it's like to lose her other half, she will never have to experience the pain and grief and suffering that comes with losing me. She will never know what it's like to to forget me. And for that I am grateful.
So as I try to fall asleep tonight I just need to remind myself, it's better this way, and one day... one day I'll be with her again. But until that day i just have to accept the fact that the comforter is never warm anymore, the mattress is like a brick and the pillows are old and torn. I will try to remember her scent so I can go find it, try to make the house feel like home again with it and restore some of that comforter but I don't know if she smelt of vanilla, pine, or cinnamon .
#natasha romanoff angst#natasha romanov#natasha x you#natasha romanoff#angst#black widow#black widow angst#y/n#natasha x y/n#mcu x reader#mcu#mcu angst#marvel#marvel angst
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HIS ASSISTANT
Severus Snape x Reader
Request: yep, by @Chloelouise02
Summary: (Y/n) was Snape's only friend back in their time at Hogwarts, but they had a falling out just before they graduated so he doesn't know how to feel now that she had been appointed as his assistant. This takes place during the golden trio's third year, or, more specifically - in their first lesson.
Warnings: a swear word or two?; dementors; shouting; pretty much just fluff
Word Count: 1.7K+
"Clean up that mess", he drawled lowly, and for the hundredth time that week I fumed at his attitude.
"Magic word?", I seethed, not moving a muscle to reach for my wand.
"If you wanted me to Imperio you, you could just say so", even through all this I heard his suppressed smirk that I would have loved to see after all this time, but apparently wasn't worthy of.
I couldn't help but roll my eyes in disbelief, and was inevitably reminded of our past shared moments. I'm not sure if it made me sad or happy thinking about. Maybe nostalgia is meant to have both.
"How about the other one?"
After a very long and over-dramatic sigh he gave in, boosting my serotonin levels drastically, at least that's what I think this feeling was.
"...Please."
"See? Was that so hard?" He didn't answer but his expression suggested it was indeed so hard.
I pulled out my wand reluctantly and swung the wood wordlessly, the puddle of rainbow-coloured failure vanishing in thin air.
I mean hey, at least it wasn't as bad as Seamus' rumored explosive draughts.
In fact, there were many rumours about all students of Hogwarts as well as teachers from other schools and Rosemary or someone of the likes from down in a Hogsmeade pub.
If I'm being honest, the teachers' room possessed more qualities of a gossip girls set-up, a talk show or a Comedy Drama movie than a teachers' room at all; but I wisely decided a while ago already to keep this to myself.
Severus apparently enjoyed the talk just as, if not more than anyone else, not that he would ever dare to admit it.
Sev...
It felt strange calling him Severus. It felt stranger calling him Snape, though, so to his dismay that's what he was going to have to put up with. We just weren't on good enough terms again for, well, honestly? Anything.
Now you may be wondering how we ended up like this. To keep it short: I'm the second-last week of our last school year he kissed me. And for whatever reason I kissed him back because apparently I had a stupid crush on him; but then he felt guilty because of Lily (am I a joke to him?) and just left and refused to talk to me again.
Great way to treat your best friend. Really. Wicked.
"Is it just my imagination or are you particularly moody right now? Because I could swear I made you laugh an hour ago and I've basically just lost all of my progress." His lip twitched upward as he positioned himself behind one of the front desks, but maybe it was a trick on the eyes.
"No. I am not moody. I am never moody. And I am most certainly not more moody than usual." Those were the most sentences I had gotten out of him in a row all day, but my accomplishment was quickly forgotten at the rubbish he had just made me hear.
"You're never- oh, I get it. I know you're not Mad-Eye. Believe me. You just haven't got the looks", I grinned, before my face fell and I grew serious for once.
"No, seriously. Have you got a bad relationship to the Potter kid or something? Everyone talks about him so much but never in relation to you. Is that it? Are you dreading him?"
I'm pretty sure if you held a really exact ruler to his eyes and you weren't shaking at the look he's giving me now, you would have seen they'd widened a couple of millimeters. But unfortunately I guess no one's gonna take over that job, are they?
He simply stayed silent until all the students had come in and positioned themselves at their desks, including the Potter boy, who was sitting next to who I think was a Weasley.
The lesson began and I watched in curiosity as his eyes flicked to Potter more often than not, although the possibility was still there that it was only because I had brought it up. I gradually regretted not saying so after the lesson more and more.
"This is my new assistant, Ms. (L/n). She will be helping me keep your dim-witted souls under control and prevent you from destroying anything as best as possible", he sent a sharpened glance at Finnigan as he said the last part, making the boy gulp. That has to count for something, right? He hadn't put it that way all the times he introduced me until now, so maybe he was warming up to me again.
I could tell the students wanted to start whispering, but their fear of Severus seemed to surpass even that.
Once he gave the assignment, however, and they started working, I heard my name mentioned in their conversations more often than i would have liked under any circumstances.
I can't believe how judged and pressured you can feel by a bunch of teenagers, even as an adult.
The amount of times it was suggested Sev and I were together or he had a crush on me or something was even more unsettling, yet aside from a casual blown up cauldron on Seamus' behalf the rest of the day went by rather eventlessly.
...
And so did the rest of the week. And the next. And the next. Although I did get rather invested in the drama of Mulligan's relationships, but who didn't?
The dementors on the grounds were becoming more and more annoying, and I was thoroughly sick of them to say the least.
One Saturday I dared to pass the lake and sit down on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I wanted fresh air, and above all - I wanted to be completely undisturbed.
So, lying down on my jacket I pulled out Tiffany Aching: I Shall Wear Midnight and started reading.
I think I lay there for hours before something happened. Or more accurately, disturbed me.
The air grew cold fast but the wind stood still, as if balancing in the tip of its toes, threatening to plunge forward in one great gust.
As a familiar feeling of sadness invaded me it didn't take long for me to come to my senses and realize what was approaching me.
Dementors. Patronus. Quick. Now.
I spun around, just to look right into it's disgusting face - well, I wouldn't call it that, but then again, what else can one call it?
But before I could do more than draw my wand, before I could utter the words, before a clear thought could even fully pass through my head -
- someone else yelled the spell.
"EXPECTO PROTONUM!"
The voice was suspiciously familiar, so I wasn't all too surprised when I saw the figure of Severus standing on a rock, panting as he held out his wand. The questions that remained were why, how, where and when.
The dementor was being chased away by-
Something that couldn't possibly be true. Anyone who knew Sev - so, not many, I guess - knows that- no, it's can't be.
The figure of a tiger was attempting to pounce on the Dementor, which was gliding away as fast as seemed dementorly possible.
But- a doe- it can't be!
"What were you thinking!?", he raged, marching up to me, wand still raised, "Oh, yes, why not just lie around at the edge of the Forbidden Forest-"
"Severus-"
"-and read a book! Who cares about the dementors whirring around here like a pack of bees!"
"Severus!"
"And what-
"SEV!", I called, but he just yelled louder.
"How stupid are you!? You were never responsible, I guess that never changed, did it? I always have to fucking save you-" That's it.
"SEVERUS FUCKING SNAPE YOU WILL BE QUIET THIS MINUTE."
That seemed to do the job.
"Don't you go on about you saving me, and don't you dare try and embarrass me or something just because you felt embarrassed yourself back then when you were seventeen! How petty can you be? It was one kiss, I don't care!" My breath fell short as I shared the thoughts I had been dying to tell him. "And since when is your patronus the same as mine!?"
He stayed quiet yet again. God, I hate it when he does that. Well, no, I don't, but I hate it when he does it after I confronted him with something.
"I didn't-" Silence again.
"It's been a tiger since the day we kissed." He seemed to deem that enough said as he sulked and began turning away.
Oh, no you won't.
"Is it because you don't regret it?", I called, barely keeping control of my words at this point. "Because you still want to?"
He halted suddenly, whisked around in one motion, and walked up to me. He stood mere inches from me and for the life of me I couldn't tell whether he was about to yell at or kiss me.
The latter was the case.
He simply pecked my lips once before smiling slightly-
I repeat, smiling!
-and walking off yet again. But this time I didn't stop him. In fact, I didn't do anything much as I watched his cape hide him until he felt beyond the horizon.
And I had never minded as much as now.
———————————————————-
A/N:
Oh, to be an assistant...
This was fun, but my autocorrect is actually killing me. Like really. I have French, German, English and emoji keyboards on here and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna lose it
Like every time I'm writing in one language it is ALWAYS, I repeat ALWAYS in a different one.
Anyways, hope you liked this, I would appreciate every comment you can spare :D
-Eren
#severus snape#severus x y/n#snape x reader#professor snape#harry potter#hogwarts fanfiction#young love#hpff#oneshot
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We Would Not Be Here Without Akira Toriyama
I am sad and emotionally wrecked right now. We lost a legend that changed everything.
Akira Toriyama, who's famous for Dragon Ball and working on other properties like Dragon Quest, passed away at the age of 68 this March. It sucks because we're celebrating 40 years of Dragon Ball.
Dragon Ball Z was my gateway into anime fandom when I was a 5th grader literally 30+ years ago. Way before Toonami, I watched a Cantonese-dubbed episode of DBZ at a friend's place and became slowly hooked ever since then. Chinatown in New York City at the time was filled with Dragon Ball Z merchandise. Posters, toys, wall scrolls, video games, trading cards, etc. You name it, it was there. DBZ fandom wasn't as mainstream back in the early-to-mid '90s as it is now, but there was something. Especially for me.
I also remember my first time using the internet at a public library in 1999 and one of the first sites I visited was a GeoCities fan site about DBZ. That's how I found out about the original manga. My first manga purchase was Dragon Ball Z Volume 1 by VIZ Media in 2003 and it was a big-sized volume that was priced at $14.95 at the time.
Dragon Ball Z also got me closer to one of my younger cousins during the Toonami years and we formed a bond over anime since that time. I would play make-shift DBZ scenarios with him when he was little. I had Dragon Ball Z figures at the time. When I think about those days, I realize that it's those moments that count especially when kids are dealing with so much competitive stressors that don't encourage play.
I know everyone has their favorite Dragon Ball characters, but my favorite character ever is Vegeta. I wrote a whole bunch of articles about him through the years. One of my top posts ever was about growing up with Vegeta. And that was written 13 years ago.
At the time, I felt similar to Vegeta. I have this very lone wolf-ish disposition despite appearing friendly to a lot of people. I'll admit that I have softened a lot over the years. I don't have as much pride as Vegeta does as of late. But the thing about Vegeta lately is that he's a much different character than in the past. If you follow the Dragon Ball Super manga, you know what I'm talking about.
And then I realize I've grown up alongside Vegeta for 3 decades. It's surreal. Part of me feels like I haven't changed all that much like he has, but I have grown up in ways that I wouldn't have expected.
Which leads me to this - if it weren't for Dragon Ball Z, I wouldn't have gotten into anime. I wouldn't have gotten to explore other series beyond it. I wouldn't have gotten into manga. I wouldn't have met friends in fandom in my '20s. I wouldn't have fallen deep into the JRPG abyss. I wouldn't have gotten into Yakuza/Like a Dragon afterwards. I wouldn't have gotten into Japanese mahjong as a result of that. Dragon Ball Z started a chain effect that's still sending ripples to me to this day.
Akira Toriyama provided a introduction for me and everyone looking for something different into the world of Japanese pop culture. He is Cool Japan to me. Toriyama got so many people to see how wild, imaginative, fun, and inspiring Japanese pop culture media was. It's arguable that Toriyama had a much bigger impact on overseas fandom than Osamu Tezuka.
A lot of people involved in anime and manga would not be here if not for Toriyama. I want us to acknowledge that. I know I have. He was a game-changer or should I say, a world-changer for everything related to the perception of anime and manga globally.
Rest in peace and power, Toriyama-sensei! You will never, ever be forgotten!
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I've had this idea for something with Mista where the reader makes his cum 4 times, but Mista being how he is cannot stand the number 4, so he begs the reader to make him orgasm one more time even though he can't even handle it and is already overstimulated
Hi long time no see :) this accidentally turned into a full oneshot
Looking for a Kiss
Notes: NSFW, femdom, hand jobs, dirty talk? Switch Mista DELICIOUS. And dare I say it.... Light cbt...? But only if you squint
Things were going great so far. Just like any date with your boy, it started off with him smothering you in the most love a man could muster. Mista treated you like royalty or as if he was head over heels for you. But just like any date, once the sun set, and it was just the two of you, manners got thrown out the window. In bed Mista was wild, but it was just how you liked it. Those sugary words he sang to you were swapped out with vulgar talk whispered in your ear as he dominated over your body. He would push your body to it's breaking point without batting an eye.
You'd lost count of how many times he'd gotten you to cum, once with his tongue, another with just his fingers, you'd spent hours trapped in the sheets of your bed with his cock pounding inside of you, sapping out your energy and wringing your body of it's fluids. He wasn't sadistic but Mista took great joy in your tired whimpers and the bruises he left all over you.
"Come on cara, just a little more. Your body's just aching for me to fill you up one more time, isn't it?"
Fuck, he was right. It was amazing how he hadn't tuckered himself out yet. Most nights he could go once, or even go for two rounds. How many times has he came inside you tonight?
The thrust of his dick piercing deep inside you again sent your mind blank. All you could do was drool into your pillow, moaning incoherent babble while he used you. "That's it baby. Fuck, you're so good for me."
Your hand clawed into the mattress beside your face. It was soon enveloped by his own, squeezing you tight as his release overwhelmed him. Mista moaned your name into your back, collapsing on top of you as you both came down from a shared high.
You settled in cushioned between the bed and Mista's warm chest, breathing deeply and settling from your head pounding orgasm. Any malicious intent from your boyfriend melted away, in turn making him softer, kind of resembling a cat. You could almost hear him purr. But something wasn't right.
"Hey... Wait a minute." Mista lifted up from you. Confused, you watched him go through gymnastics in his mind. With every second, fear contorted his face, in his eyes. Once you met his he almost let loose a shriek of horror.
"Shit! Babe, you gotta let me cum again!"
"H-Huh?" Again Mista was on you, kissing you and feeling up your body.
"I just realized. That last go makes four rounds. I can't stop on four, I'll die if I don't cum again!"
"Ugh, Mista, what have I said about getting ahead of yourself?"
"I can't help it babe, I go crazy when you're around. Will you help me? Pretty please?" He gives you puppy eyes.
Sighing, you rub the bridge of your nose between your eyes, "Mista, I'm exhausted. I don't think I can go for another round... I don't think you can either." The thought of sex right now made you feel nauseous. You just wanted to cuddle. Mista didn't look any better.
"Oh, I'm beggin' you babe! Just a quickie, I promise I'll treat you real good afterwards."
A look down confirmed to you he was hard as a rock again. And so soon after blowing his load? But damnit, he looked good. You watched it some more, that familiar heat between your legs making itself known again as you watched his cock throb in time with his pulse.
God damnit. You were weak.
"Okay, I'll help you. But don't think this is an everyday thing, you cheeky bastard."
Mista looked happier than a kid on Christmas. While you got out of bed, your boyfriend wiggled his way down to the foot with his legs over the end and his arms propping him up from behind.
It was too cold to be moving around, you put on some fresh panties and whatever shirt was nearest, one of Mista's band shirts he hasn't already modified into a crop top. It smelt like him, and that was enough to make your weak heart skip.
Okay, enough lollygagging. You got back to your desperate boyfriend, settling between his open thighs with a pillow on the floor for your knees. Your hands moved up his thighs to grip his member, slowly pumping the length while your mouth busied over his thick head.
"Oh, fuck yes." Mista moaned as his head tipped back. "Fuck, I haven't gotten to use your mouth in forever." Your response was a dull hum.
It was easy to tease Mista. The base of his dick was the most sensitive area down there, you loved to tease him with kisses and licks while your finger moved up to prod his slit. His body shuddered, hands reaching to grab your scalp, lightening their hold once Mista realized he was clawing into you.
"N-Now, don't be mean... I'm still sensi-tive!" His voice rose an octave when you added a hard suck on one of his balls. The thighs around your head clamped down as he whined out loudly, repeating curses underneath his breath when your hand quickened it's pace.
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit."
"C'mon, Guido, you were being such a bully earlier, can't handle taking the heat back?" Your teeth were bared against his hot flesh, you nipped playfully at his skin, getting soft jumps and more whines from Mista. He was watching you with nervous eyes. You were getting into another mood. A devious mood. It wasn't often Mista let his softer side into the bedroom. He looked way too cute for his own good.
You got Mista on his back, hand still pumping his overstimulated cock. Your other hand got tangled in his hair, contrasting your merciless hand with soft brushes through his thick, curly locks.
"Y-Y/n. This is... T-T-Too much!"
"Don't be a baby. You wanted this yeah?"
You leaned lower to nip the salty skin underneath his ear. With a kiss you whispered just to him, "Go on, cum in my hand. Be a good boy and say my name."
"F-Fuck, Y/n–!" His voice rose to a new pitch as his head came to a blank. His cock painted your hand white in his sperm, all while you never stopped jacking him off without remorse. It quickly became too much for his tired body, his legs shook painfully as you pumped him empty. He babbled on incoherently, trying to stop the torture of his poor cock. "Fuck, fuck! P-Please, stop!"
"Oh, you have enough already?" You asked already knowing the answer.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes! Please–."
You finally let go. And he whimpered so pathetically. After collapsing into the bed for the last time, Mista tried to catch his breath. He fell asleep naked and covered in his own grime, while you decided to freshen up. After a quick wash down you could finally get your snuggles with your stinky boyfriend.
#steamy writing#jojo no kimyou na bouken#jjba#golden wind#jjba x reader#guido mista#guido mista x reader
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So, you mentioned on the podcast that you were watching some classic-era Gundam.
For the season(s) you've watched, assuming you're not planning on suddenly taking the plunge and making a Universal Century Detail Diatribe, would you mind sharing your opinion so far? Universal Century can be a bit divisive, but I always enjoy seeing people's opinions on it. I have mixed feelings on some of the decisions made, myself, but in the grand scheme of things I enjoy what I've seen so far. (Especially Unicorn, but that's not really classic era.)
Also, I'd like to reccomend watching (or reading!) Gundam The Origin, since it acts as a really good, pretty, (and in the anime's case, short) prequel series to the original.
It's interesting! I've watched the compilation movies for 1 and 2 and most of 3, and I can't tell if they lost the plot after 1 or if the writers were being really, really scathing in a subtle way.
1 was incredibly blatant about how Amuro is a traumatized kid who got strongarmed into being the gundam pilot and using it to kill people, something that he clearly absolutely hates - and it's pretty overt that the Federation Force is more than willing to mulch up as many child soldiers as they want in order to win. The movies, and I assume the show they're compiled from, go out of their way to show that there are sympathetic young people on both sides of the conflict that just want to be free of this war, and there are also right bastards on both sides that are willing to be very callous with the lives of others. You can, of course, always identify who the compassionate people are by how pretty they are, and all the right bastards by how grotesque they are. It's pretty unsubtle about that being the core of the narrative, and they really twist the knife at certain points, like when Amuro's mother is horrified and ashamed at him self-defense-killing a Zeon soldier that was actively menacing her refugee camp, and Amuro concluding that she doesn't love him and he truly has no family to go back to.
By 2, things have gotten a little confusing, and I'm inclined to assume this is because the compilation movies had to make some cuts that would've made the character arcs flow a little more smoothly. Amuro decides to leave the whole war behind, which makes sense, but he takes the gundam, which doesn't. They introduce this thread that Amuro is extremely attached to the gundam and very proud of his ability to pilot it, and he has an actual breakdown when he learns that other members of the crew are now trained in its operation and can use it just fine, if not quite as skillfully as he can. It seems like there was a bit of a lurch from "Amuro has been unwillingly dragged into this nightmare and is forced to fight again and again despite his extremely obvious PTSD" to "Amuro refuses to let go of the giant robot that tethers him TO this nightmare," and while it's very interesting in the implications, it doesn't exactly flow cleanly. In fact, this is where there seems to be a bit of a shift from "war is bad" to "wow! cool robot." Amuro goes from PTSD-catatonia every time he destroys an enemy mobile suit to counting them during fight scenes, which is kind of a chilling indicator of the mechanized horror he's becoming accustomed to - assuming that was on purpose and not just a broad defanging of the story to do more Cool Robot Fights.
But the thing is, there's this subplot sometime around 2 or 3 involving a bunch of actual toddlers that have been hanging around on the ship - because it started as a refugee vessel escaping the destruction of a colony, so there's a lot of women (who are now conscripted pilots, of course, and shockingly badass for the era it came out in) and children onboard, and they've been stuck on the front lines running from Zeon with almost no ground support because the Federation likes throwing the gundam at things too much to care about a handful of six-year-olds potentially getting mulched. But throughout this little arc, the kids are finally on track to getting rehomed on Earth by the military - something that the kids are unhappy about because they've got a whole Found Family thing going, but Amuro approves of them leaving, saying "little kids shouldn't see people killing each other," which aligns very firmly with how he is a kid who hates all the killing he's stuck in.
Except then the happy ending is that the six-year-olds get to stay on the warship because they recently helped out with bomb disposal and "they've seen things you guys can't imagine, they don't want to leave!" And this is either really losing the plot or absolutely brilliant spiteful writing on the part of the creative team, because as I understand it, executive meddling was pushing them to include newer, flashier, more colorful giant robots (weapons of war and untold suffering that our teen hero has been trapped in by a mechanized war machine that has effectively enslaved him for his talents) to push toys to the exact age demographic of those chipper six-year-olds. It's almost like the teenage child soldiers are turning out to directly face the camera and saying "what's the difference between forcing us onto the front lines and letting these precocious youngsters keep flinging themselves into the crossfire? Gotta sell more gunplas, right?"
So if that was on purpose, I really liked it. If not, it's kinda hearbreaking to see the show gradually start pulling its punches in favor of turning the Oops All Babies warship into a heartwarming found family situation.
Also they started really banging the "newtypes are the plot now" drum in 3 and once everyone started getting psychic powers I kinda lost steam tbh
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Sup bitches im back
Now I'm still trying to get back into the swing of things with writing (and, I think this is my first supernatural fic I've made) so forgive me, I'm still a little rusty. lmk if you want more spn fics in the future and want you think of this fic.
So yeah enjoy
(this is set in like season 1-2)
Dean lost count of how many hours they'd been on the road for. Had to be at least nine. Maybe ten.
Sam was blankly staring out the window, half asleep, the same thing he'd been doing for the past half an hour.
Dean made the consecutive decision to pull into the nearest motel that was next to a gas station. Sam didn't make a fuss about it and just pulled their stuff out of the car while Dean checked in.
The two moved in silence as they got ready for bed, Sam particularly avoiding eye contact and talking.
Finally, Dean spoke up when Sam had sat down on his own bed and started staring at his bed sheets instead of reading some random book like he usually did.
"Alright, what's up?" Dean turned to face Sam as he spoke.
Sam paused. "What?"
"Come on," Dean tilted his head. "you're never this quiet."
"I just didn't have anything to say." Sam shrugged.
Dean narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything else yet. He watched Sam for a moment. He still felt bad about dragging Sam back into this life. Sam shouldn't have to live like this, have to sleep in shabby motels and eat cheap takeout as his meals. He should have been able to go to Stanford and get married and have two kids and a dog and never have to worry about getting stabbed or bitten or impaled by whatever creature they were hunting.
Sam sighed, snaping Dean out of his train of thought.
"I'm just not in a good mood is all." Sam answered.
"Oh," Dean nodded, then grinned. "Well you know how we fix bad moods, don't you?"
Sam went stiff and shook his head at Dean, already holding his hands out in front of his body to protect himself from any hands trying to poke or wiggle at him.
"Dean, no." Sam said, backing away from Dean.
"Oh, come on, Sammy." Dean gave him a toothy grin, advancing on Sam. "You don't wanna play with your big brother?"
Sam glanced at Dean and then at the bathroom door. If he was fast enough, he could run past Dean and lock himself in the bathroom and wait it out. But, his few seconds of hesitation was enough time for Dean to lunge at him and tackle him to the floor. Sam yelped, doing his best to crawl away from Dean while he was on top of him.
Sam snapped his mouth closed when he felt wiggling fingers digging into his sides. His hands grappled with Dean's hands, trying desperately to pull them away from his body.
Sam flipped himself around, onto his back so he was more able to prevent any oncoming attacks. Sam wrapped his legs around Dean and flipped their positions, holding down Dean's hands. He felt a surge of triumph rush through him before Dean promptly reversed their positions again.
The two wrestled like that for a while before Dean managed to shove a hand up Sam's shirt, wiggling his fingers against his ribs. Sam broke down in a fit of uncontrolled giggles, rolling away from Dean.
"Yes!" Dean shouted when he finally pinned Sam.
"Dean, stop!" Sam yelled through his laughter. "T-this is chihildish!"
"Aw, but it's working, see?" Dean used both his hands to dig into Sam's upper ribs, causing Sam to throw his head back and cackle. "Look at that big smile."
Sam pushed at Dean's hands and when he couldn't catch them he pushed against Dean's chest, but he could already feel the energy being sapped out of him from the tickling.
Dean's hands darted from spot to spot, quickly changing tactics with each spot he tickled. He leaned back and pinched Sam's knees abruptly, poking his fingers underneath his knees. Sam screeched, his legs flailing out away from Dean.
Dean chuckled at his reactions, slowing down so that Sam could somewhat catch his breath. He lightly scratched Sam's sides up and down to keep him giggling at a steady but slow pace.
"You're a friggin' jerk, you know that?" Sam grumbled.
"I love you too, bitch." Dean smiled affectionately.
"Remember when you used to have nightmares when you were younger?" Dean said after a pause, watching his hands as they rested on Sam's stomach.
"Yeah?" Sam answered. When he was younger he had had a scary encounter with a ghost in the motel they were staying in. Thankfully, their father had come crashing in to help the two of them, since the ghost had knocked Dean's gun out of his hands. For months after that he had nightmares about creatures coming in and hurting him and his family. When they got really bad, he confessed to Dean about them and would crawl into his bed sometimes at night for comfort. Dean never complained and never brought it up unless Sam did first.
"Do you remember how I'd scare them away if they got really bad?" Dean smirked.
Oh right, he remembered. If they got bad and Sam would crawl into Dean's bed but if he couldn't fall asleep Dean would help "scare" the nightmares away.
"Wait-" Sam said before Dean grinned, hiked his shirt up to his ribs, and quickly leaned down blowing a raspberry on his taut stomach.Dean's hands came to life again squeezed along his sides and hips.
Sam twisted and cackled, legs thumping on the floor behind Dean. His hands pushed desperately at Dean's head when he blew the second raspberry right below his belly button, the third one right next to it and then on the other side, the fifth being right on top of his naval.
Dean sat back up, grinning. He leaned forward and ruffled Sam's already messed up hair.
"Feeling better?" Dean asked after a bit.
"I heh-hate you." Sam mumbled, still giggly from Dean's tickly assault.
Dean smiled and got off of Sam and helped him up of the gross motel floor. Afterwards, Dean stayed up late watching random shows on the television bit Sam fell asleep rather quickly, his soft snores a nice background melody.
Sam wouldn't admit it to Dean but his tricks still worked on him, even though it had been years since Dean had last used them.
But Dean knew Sam too well to not know that they still worked. He wouldn't use them if he didn't think they worked.
Oop, got a little carried away lol anyway hope you liked
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15 Questions 15 Mutuals
Tagged by @lost-and-cused 💛
Are you named after anyone?
Yes, a musician my mother met in Russia!
When was the last time you cried?
Huh. I think like, two months back? Trigun '98 episode 23. If you know you know. (I am wrapping u up in a blanket.)
Do you have kids?
Nope! I think I might like to be a foster parent someday, though, once I have the money and the time do it properly.
Do you use sarcasm a lot?
I- huh. I was gonna say yes, but honestly, not much in the last few years? I used to be so snarky and biting, like, all the time. It must have been really exhausting for the people around me. Now I think mostly it's just when I'm venting. Wild!
What sports do you play/have played?
I dunno if it's a sport if I don't compete but I enjoy martial arts! I do BJJ sometimes but I'm not very good at it, it's just for fun.
Oh, and I was on a basketball team for a couple years, but I'm 5'3" and still don't know the rules so I think I was mostly just just for the body count, lol
What's the first thing you notice about other people?
Demeanor. Are you calm or tense? Loose or tightly-wound? Are you likely to explode if you encounter a perceived obstacle? Are you agreeable and easygoing? Or are you pent-up and raw and itching for a fight?
God, I don't think people realize how visibly LOUD they are when they're unhappy.
Some people are like music, moving along to their own little beat or tune, and then a heavy, harsh note walks in and you just KNOW they'll fuck up the rhythm if you brush too close. It's wild. Are they aware of it? Do they care? Who knows.
What's your eye colour?
Brown! Sorta like.... hmmmm. #622a0f in the middle, with a darker ring around the outside. (Never did relate to the 'brown eyes are boring' gang, always liked mine too much. Then again, I was the only one in my family with brown eyes, so maybe it was that.)
Scary movies or happy endings?
Scary movies WITH happy endings? But no, actually, I hate watching horror movies. I LIKE them, I think a lot of them are very good and it's an underrated genre, I just. Don't enjoy being scared. Or sad.
Any special talents?
I'm an artist- I enjoy watercolor, acrylic, and India ink as painting mediums, I'm rather good at realistic stippling, I'm decent at identifying animal bones, I enjoy sculpting and sewing and needle-felting, I'm finally at a point where I like to read my own writing, I enjoy interior design and have been told I'm good at it, I'm a pretty good cook, and I've been told I'm a decent singer! I can also fold incredibly tiny origami cranes, and pick up on new languages well enough for simple use.
And I be far more proud of any number of these things if I did them a little more often.
As it is, I sleep a lot.
Where were you born?
British Columbia, Canada!
What are your hobbies?
Lord, too many. I'm actually sewing a new battle jacket right now, and animating a short video. Also writing fan fiction. And reading! And I like to collect antique books and handmade ceramics and theater masks. And go antiquing. And I'm still learning to knit? Hhhhhhhhrrrrnnggfn I wish I could have a year off to just. Do things. I wanna take a pottery class! And do metalwork again!! I used to love making chain jewelry. Oh, I do beadwork sometimes! And paint! And I'm sloooooowly designing a guest room. Bfyvxuhfhgtjggjhgyu
Do you have any pets?
Yes! Big baby bird cat. He lives out of the country now, though.
How tall are you?
160cm!
Favourite subject at school?
Art. And Metalwork. And Psychology. And Literary Analysis. (And lunch break.)
Dream job?
Okay so imagine this: There's a VERY rich eccentric hell-bent on accumulating strange art, and by some miracle they are both mentally stable and not a gigantic dickhead. They travel a lot and don't really enjoy socializing so I don't have to kiss their ass.
Twice a month I receive an automatic deposit into my bank account and in return, all they want is a reasonably steady continued production of literally whatever art. Portraits, statues, robotics, ceramics, conceptual shit, costumes, carvings, literally whatever.
And they'll cover educational expenses for it all so I can go back to college and learn screen printing and 3D animation and use the kiln and shit forever and ever, and take up apprenticeships at tattoo parlors and volunteer as a face painter and pick up photography, and just create as much beauty and love and confusion and joy as I possibly can forever and ever and ever until I die.
And I'll have enough money to own my own apartment that I'll paint in all my favourite colors, with murals and everything, and have a cat who I will of course spoil rotten, and maybe adopt a few weird and goofy kids who'll have sleepovers with their friends in the living room and play new bad music that I pretend to hate, and when they fuck up and do stupid shit like kids do, maybe I'll handle it better than my adults did.
And maybe if they like making stuff too, I can make stuff with them. And maybe I'll get to see them do it better than me. And maybe I'll get to see them do everything better than me. And maybe they'll be happier, too.
So, uh. I guess I'd like to be an artist. A sugar baby-artist? Sugar baby artist combo. I'd like to have a patron is what I mean. A sponsor. Yeah
Fifteen Mutuals*:
@Melancholysage @Genderfuckedpigeon @Raspbrrytea @Qthewhatever @Sternenhimmel-mond @Mythosandsuch @Anunholymessofagirl @Ifitistobeitisuptous
@Here-you-can-read-my-feelings @Meat-puddle @Catgirlwarrior @Rodeokid @Not-fae-no-sir @Inbox847 @Pip-53
*I have no idea if we're all mutuals but take this anyways
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chapter summary: ezra reunites with hera and chopper and meets jacen. sabine realizes she still has a home on the ghost, and it's just like old times— but with one critical difference.
chapter word count: 3.1K
a/n: as i wrote this chapter, i started thinking about coffee creamer in the star wars galaxy. would it be blue? like their milk? what color would it make the coffee if you put enough in it? i decided to test this theory— though i didn't have blue food coloring, i did have purple for some reason, so i just used that, and, well, let's just say i know firsthand that sabine's description of ezra's caf in this chapter is 100% accurate. and i have made terrible mistakes.
taglist:@laughingphoenixleader@accidental-spice@kanerallels@piraterefrigerator@jedi-nurse@dootchster@lucasbridger@redroverrider@light-umbra@commander-tech {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}
also on ao3!
Chapter 3: Sha'kajir
Sabine tried to keep a straight face as the shuttle ramp lowered. She and Ezra had had plenty of time to discuss how to make an entrance upon Ezra's return to the galaxy, and she wasn't about to flub up their plan.
She stepped off the ramp as seriously as she could, watching the faces of the confused New Republic soldiers in front of her as they lowered their weapons. She was sure most of them didn't even expect her return at all, especially so soon, or in a recovered Imperial transport.
But the face she was watching most expectantly was General Syndulla's.
"Sabine?" Hera asked, motioning for the rest of the troops to stay back as she walked across the hangar to her.
"General," Sabine nodded, a smile tugging the corner of her cheeks.
Though anyone else would've seen it as a breach in protocol, the general was the closest thing Sabine had to a mother anymore, and a reunion hug was inevitable.
Hera quickly pulled away though, most likely equal parts remembering who else was watching and recalling Sabine's usual aversion to physical touch, and also because so many questions had still been left unanswered.
"Did Ahsoka make it to you okay?" Hera asked, "did she make it back? Did you find Ezra?"
"Ahsoka found me, yeah," Sabine said, "and she and Huyang made the jump back here with me."
"And Ezra?" Hera asked.
Sabine bit her lip, enjoying Hera's suspense too much to risk accidentally spilling it.
"Did you find Ezra?" Hera asked, "is he…."
"I'd say he's doing alright," a voice behind Sabine said, and she and Hera both turned to see Ezra standing in front of the shuttle ramp.
"Ezra?" Hera asked, and Sabine took a step to the side.
Ezra nodded, and before he could say anything more, he found himself in a long awaited hug from Hera.
"Welcome home," Hera said, quietly enough that the only people who could hear it were Ezra and Sabine.
"I've missed you, mom," Ezra said.
Hera laughed a little, and after another moment, pulled away.
Chopper rolled up to Ezra, beeping something about how he definitely didn't miss Ezra at all, and jokingly complaining about not giving him back his room.
"Good work, Sabine," Hera said, "I'm proud of you— both of you."
Sabine hadn't seen Hera happier since they returned from Krownest all those years ago, when the whole crew was together again for the start of the very last time. Mingled with the joyful disbelief on Hera's face was a sense of pride— though it seemed not just in her kids, but also in herself.
"It's not all good news," Sabine said, "unfortunately, Ahsoka and Ezra aren't the only ones who came back from Perida."
"You don't mean…"
Ezra nodded sadly. "Somehow, Grand Admiral Thrawn returned."
The light in Hera's eyes faded, years of conflict and turmoil rushing back at her, like everything they'd worked so hard for was beginning to crumble. She shook her head, biting her lip, then nodded, and the confidence returned.
"It's alright," Hera reaffirmed, "Thrawn's return is nothing the New Republic can't handle, and now he's lost his element of surprise. Chop, let Senator Organa know. Notify the New Republic forces immediately."
"And what are we gonna do to stop him?" Sabine asked.
"That's the New Republic Council's call," Hera said, "until then, I think Ezra's gonna have a lot of catching up to do."
"You have no idea," Ezra said, the same overwhelmed look on his face that he'd had any time Sabine tried to tell him about everything that had changed over the last decade.
"But first," Hera said, "you need some rest. You two have just traveled across galaxies. There'll be time for a family reunion after you've gotten a good night's sleep."
"Yes ma'am," Ezra teased, jokingly saluting. Hera put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around.
"You've still got a bunk on The Ghost," Hera said, leading him to the door, "as long as you don't mind sharing your room with a force-sensitive ten year old."
"Sabine told me all about the kid," Ezra said, "and it'd be an honor. Besides, if I could put up with the smell of Lasat for as long as I did…."
Sabine watched as they walked away, Chopper rolling along behind them.
"You did it," she thought, "he was counting on you to bring him home, and you did it."
She shook her head, trying to stave off the burning question of "now what?"
"Hey, Sabine!"
Ezra had stopped in his tracks and turned back to her.
"You coming?" he asked.
Sabine searched her words. Of course she wanted to join them— and Ezra's smile as he turned back to her was welcoming in a way nothing else could've been— but she hadn't stayed on The Ghost for years, and didn't even know if there was still a place for her.
Hera spoke up before Sabine could voice her hesitations.
"I've still got your room just like you left it, too," Hera said, with that motherly tone of voice that turned a suggestion into a command.
"Alright," Sabine said, "who am I to argue with that?"
Sabine joined them, and they left for The Ghost together.
— — —
"Hey, Jacen," Sabine knocked on the door as she entered the room, "you awake?"
If he hadn't been awake before, he certainly was now, as he jumped out of his bed and into her arms to give her a hug.
"Aunt Sabine!" he laughed, "you're home!"
"You're right I am," Sabine ruffled his shaggy green hair, "and I brought back a friend."
Jacen looked past her to where his mom stood in the doorway, Ezra walking in past her.
"Jacen?" Ezra asked, taking a few steps into the room, "I know you don't know me, but…."
"Uncle Ezra?" Jacen asked.
"Yeah," Ezra said, smiling as he knelt down next to Sabine to get closer to Jacen's level, "I take it you've heard of me."
"Yeah," Jacen said, "mommy and Aunt Sabine and Chopper tell me stories about you all the time."
Out in the hallway, Chopper beeped something to the contrary.
"You do and you know it!" Jacen argued to the droid.
"Well, I'm glad to finally meet you," Ezra said, placing his hands on Jacen's shoulders and nodding, "Sabine's told me a lot about you, too."
"Like what?" Jacen asked.
"For one, she said that you're a lot like your parents."
"Did you know my dad?" Jacen's eyes lit up, "you knew him, right?"
"Yeah," Ezra nodded, solemnly, before lightening the mood again, "how about I tell you about one of our adventures? As a bedtime story?"
He glanced back at Hera as he asked, and she nodded
"Just don't go too long," Hera pointed at them, "you boys have a busy day tomorrow."
"Okay," Jacen said, already climbing into his bed.
Ezra sat down at the end of Jacen's bed. "It all started when we were on the roof of The Ghost, while your dad was trying to teach me how to become a Jedi.…"
Sabine watched him over her shoulder as she left the room. Ezra seemed to have clicked with Jacen immediately, probably due to either the way the boys were both so easy to get along with, or because of their strong connections to the force. Either way, it was endearing for her to watch.
Sabine felt Hera's hand on her shoulder.
"Let's get you settled back in too," Hera said.
"Alright," Sabine said.
She followed Hera down the hall to her old room, and found that, just as Hera had said, not much had changed. The walls were still covered in more graffiti than an abandoned factory in the outer rim, and the old cracked mirror on her dresser still had yet to be repaired.
"Just like you left it," Hera said.
"Yeah," Sabine rolled her eyes, sitting on her old bed, "that was quite a day."
She almost felt ridiculous by now, with how excited and hopeful she'd been at the start of her training with Ahsoka, even though the mere thought of her training carried with it so much tension and stress now.
She got up to look through the drawers of her dresser, and was confused by a few things she found in it.
"I don't remember owning this shirt," Sabine said, holding up a gray and tan shirt with long sleeves and a snappy collar.
"I didn't think your old clothes would fit you anymore," Hera said, "so left a few of my old things for you."
"You did?" Sabine asked, looking through the drawer "how did you know I'd even be back?"
"I didn't know," Hera said, "but I had hoped. I know you've moved onto bigger things than our Spectre days— we all have— but I always wanted home to be here for you if you need someplace to crash."
"You mean a place to have an exciting landing?" Sabine asked.
"Yeah," Hera laughed.
Sabine gave Hera a sidehug.
"Thanks," Sabine said.
The past few years had been really rough. Every other idea of home she'd ever had was gone for good, but somehow this place remained— probably due to the stubbornness of her Captain.
And somehow, no matter how much time passed, she always found her crew again.
"It's good to have you home," Hera said, "now, I'd suggest you change so Chop can get your clothes washed, and I'll have something to eat ready in just a few minutes."
"You don't have to…"
"Sabine," Hera said, "I insist."
Sabine smiled and rolled her eyes as Hera left the room.
— — —
Seven minutes later, Sabine was in the galley, wearing one of Hera's shirts and a pair of her old oversized pants, drinking a cup of caf and talking with Hera like nothing had ever changed.
"How's your Jedi stuff going?" Hera asked, from where she stood by the stove.
"It's," Sabine took a sip of caf as she looked for the right word, "interesting."
"Interesting good?" Hera asked.
"Yeah," Sabine said, "while we were on Perida I actually managed to use the Force a little."
"Well, that's good," Hera said.
"I don't know," Sabine said, "it only worked there and I haven't tried it since. Probably had something to do with the planet itself."
"Ah," Hera smiled, "the Force has a funny way of working sometimes."
"Yeah," Sabine said, unsure why she said it the way she did, like there was something more to this story that Sabine didn't even realize she was getting at, "it wasn't anything major anyways."
"Don't listen to her," Ezra said, as he walked into the galley, "if it wasn't for her connection to the Force, we never would've made it home."
Sabine smiled at Ezra, and noticed that instead of the clothes he'd been wearing all week in the closet, he now wore a familiar green shirt that Hera must've lent him.
"Sounds like quite the story," Hera smiled, as Ezra sat down next to Sabine at the table, "and speaking of 'stories,'" Hera poured a cup of caf for Ezra just the way he liked it— with enough creamer that it ended up the same color that Zeb turned the time he got food poisoning, "you did make sure to remind Jacen that climbing on top of The Ghost for Jedi practice should only be done with direct adult supervision, right?"
Ezra took a sip of his caf and sighed with contentment, as if he hadn't heard her question.
"I've really missed this," he set down the cup, "you know, they don't have creamer like this on Perida. Granted, they also don't have caf."
"Ezra," Hera asked, arms crossed.
"Don't worry, Hera," Ezra said, "I'll remind him in the morning that any stories I tell him are on a strict 'do as I say, not as I do' basis."
"Alright," Hera said, grabbing a couple plates off the counter as she changed the subject, "now, I hope you kids are hungry."
She set down a plate of purpleish pancakes in front of each of them.
"We've eaten nothing but decade-old Imperial rations for the last week," Sabine said, "I'd say we're long overdue for a home-cooked meal."
"Besides," Ezra said, already with his mouth full of food, "I wouldn't even turn down a stack of Jogan Pancakes if I'd just had a full Life Day Feast."
Sabine smiled as she took a bite of her pancakes, with not nearly as much reckless abandon as Ezra did— just like old times— but still wholeheartedly.
"These are amazing," Ezra said, "just as good as I remembered them."
"I do my best," Hera said, and instead of taking pride at his compliment, she looked away almost wistfully, "I know they're not as good as when Kanan would make them…."
"They're great," Sabine and Ezra both said, then looked at each other with a smile.
"Glad to hear there's an agreement," Hera said, as she sat down with a stack of pancakes of her own.
In between mouthfuls— very full, borderline greedy mouthfuls— Ezra kept the conversation going.
"Does Jacen have any of his dad's cooking skills?"
Hera smiled, "he's the only one who can come close to making Kanan's specialty."
"You mean that meatlump stuff that tasted a lot better than it sounds?" Ezra laughed, but only a little, followed by a sigh.
"That's the one," Hera said, and despite the sour look on Ezra's face as he mentioned it, Hera's expression was one of delight.
"Kanan would be proud of him," Ezra nodded.
"I know he would," Hera nodded, "and I am too."
They each took a few more bites, before Ezra spoke up again.
"So, Sabine," Ezra said, "Jacen mentioned you've been telling stories about me?"
Sabine bit her lip. Maybe she'd told one or two or seventy-five stories about him, but that was no reason for Jacen to bring it up.
"Once or twice," Sabine said.
"Which ones?"
"Oh, you know," Sabine took a sip of her caf, "that time Chopper unscrewed the bolts from your bunk…."
"Seriously?" Ezra asked.
"What?" Sabine shrugged, "I had to say something when he asked about the funny drawing of Uncle Zeb on the wall of his room."
"You actually kept that up?" Ezra asked.
"You could've washed it off anytime when it was your room," Sabine suggested.
"What can I say?" Ezra asked, "I liked being your inspiration."
"Then you're gonna love what I've done in the comm tower on Lothal."
"What?"
"Nothing," Sabine said, quickly covering her tracks, knowing she probably couldn't find a way to say she'd been living in his old house the past few years without it sounding creepy.
Ezra shrugged as he finished off his stack of pancakes and got up to grab some more from the counter by the stove, Sabine trying not to let her gaze follow him too intently.
———
"You'd think we'd be sick of each other by now," Sabine thought, as she and Ezra sat next to each other at the table in the galley, long after the pancakes and caf were finished and Hera had gone to bed, "and yet? I could probably stay up talking with him all night."
She tried to ignore the fact that she'd almost done just that, that there were only a few hours left before they'd have to wake up, and that Hera had reminded them not to stay up too late tonight.
"Hey, Sabine," Ezra said, "you good?"
She'd spaced out in the middle of one of his stories, so focused on how much she enjoyed talking with Ezra that she'd forgotten to focus on talking with Ezra.
"Yeah," Sabine said, shaking her head as she came up with an excuse, "sorry. Just zoned out a little."
"I think you need some sleep," Ezra said.
"I've been in a closet for a whole week," Sabine said, "I've gotten more than enough rest."
"Sabine," he titled his head and raised an eyebrow, with knowing disappointment at her self-destructive tendencies.
"And what about you?" Sabine threw his accusation back at him, "don't you have a big day tomorrow?"
"I'll be fine," Ezra said, glancing at her with a smile and a glimmer in his eye, "besides, I slept much better this past week than I have in a long time."
"Why's that?" Sabine asked.
That's how she knew she needed sleep. She was pretty sure of the answer to that question, and if she'd been more awake, she'd've deflected this kind of conversation.
But, since she asked, Ezra answered, by sliding closer to her and gently putting a hand on her shoulder. He leaned towards her a little as well, and lowered his tone, somehow to something deep but still soft; gravelly but still smooth.
"I've missed you."
Oh no.
In the good old days, when Ezra tried something like this, it had always bothered her— because she didn't feel the same way— because there was no way she could ever find herself liking Ezra. She'd thought those feelings he had for her had gone away, but the look in his eyes said it all: though it had taken many forms over the last fifteen years, his love for her had never died.
In the good old days, she would've pushed him away immediately at this realization, not wanting anything more than his friendship. By the time she'd thought she might even be able to start feeling the same way, he was already gone. But as she looked into his eyes, she realized she'd more than just begun to catch feelings: though it had taken her fifteen years, she'd finally fallen in love with Ezra Bridger.
She wasn't in the good old days anymore, and it was terrifying.
She liked Ezra.
Ezra liked her.
And now instead of being galaxies apart, they were together— alone together— and he was leaning close to her and whispering to her in a tone of voice that could've made a textbook sound romantic, and she liked it.
It was all too much to take in at once. Her familiar friend had become unfamiliar territory— by no fault of his own— and she didn't know how to respond.
"I should go to bed," Sabine said, sharply, turning away from him so she didn't have to see how his face fell— though she saw it anyway.
"Sabine," Ezra said, "wait, I…."
But she was already out of her seat and on her way out the door. She thought she heard him get up and walk to the doorway after her, but she didn't turn around to check.
Sabine wasn't running from Ezra. It wasn't his fault he'd finally gotten through to her heart this time.
No, she was running from her feelings for Ezra. How else could she respond? She'd never been in love before. What else could be done in the face of this, besides what she did with any other new problem that couldn't be solved with a detonator?
She ran.
#sabezra#sabine wren#ezra bridger#ezrabine#ahsoka series#star wars rebels#hera syndulla#c1-10p#chopper#jacen syndulla#ahsoka spoilers#kazzy writes#fanfic#kazzy writes fanfic#sabezra fanfic#otp: im counting on you
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Music Monday!
Finally getting to this! I was tagged by @herefortarlos @bonheur-cafe @laelipoo @eclectic-sassycoweyes @strandnreyes (and possibly others, I have lost track! Abject apologies if I forgot you). I have so many songs that speak Tarlos to me (don’t we all) but here’s a few I could think of, with some relevant lyrics
Season one TK:
Trying / Falling by Deaf Havana
I'm wired, I'm mired, I'm out here, all uninspired, underdone
I'm over everything, I've been over-hung for too long
I'd stay gone and wake up with a headache
Just laying all empty, for who's sake could I not make it
I'm scared I've wasted all this time until now
Where is the worth in these years, broken down?
I've watched the worst of it all stutter out
Maybe I'm no better, but I'm trying, I'm trying
Breakup Carlos:
Nevermind by Deaf Havana
I was living out of a box
You were reliving the years you missed out on
I don't believe in God, so I ain't got a shot at redemption
I fell out of love again
Not with you but with living in general
And I lost a lot of friends, nevermind
'Cause I've been on a losing streak
My hearts made of stone and I can't trust my own damn feet
To show me the right way home
It's been a hell of a year
I'm struggling' to see what the next one looks like without you here, my love
I'm never enough
Breakup TK:
Slip Away by Luke Hemmings
Falling, falling, falling in unfamiliar space
'Cause I was drenched in you before I even knew your name
Fading, fading, fading with the breath you take
See your southern heart hiding behind a city face
Drowning out the fires as I'm lying here awake
I can feel you slip away like I knew you would
Don't you leave me in this silence when you've seen all my mistakes
Now I'm looking for escapes like I knew I would
Gone by Blake Rose
So stay and hold me like a paper weight
Kiss me like it's all the same
Just lovers like we were supposed to be
Oh as these shapes and colours all start to fade
I can feel you slipping away
Just promise that you'll wait right here for me
Until I find another dose, won't make it on my own
I'm done carrying the weight of the world
So heavy on my shoulders, I just wanna feel this love
Even if it's only when I'm tripping I see your face
I ain't doing no one a favour while I'm sober for the moment
I can only hope this lasts
'Cause when the high stops then I know that you're gone
General Carlos:
Funny how? by The Maine
At 17 I couldn't dream of something like this
Oh what a sweet trip I was just a kid myself
And then hours turn to days, five years is a flash
So let's make it count, ‘cause we cannot make it last
And I want you and no one else
Oh ain't it funny how I never needed you until now?
Ain't it funny how you made it easier somehow?
Ain't it funny how?
How I didn't know before you I was bleeding
I can breathe again, all my walls are falling down
Ain't it funny how?
General TK:
Peace by Taylor Swift
But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west
I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best
But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me
But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm
If your cascade ocean wave blues come
All these people think love's for show
But I would die for you in secret
The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me
Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?
General Tarlos:
What have I done? by Dermot Kennedy
So, don't you fall back asleep for this moment
Just be, I wanna get it right for once
Oh, I've been knocked out and beat but this feeling is fleeting
What have I done?
I never thought I needed saving, I was right where I should be
Good god, I know it's dangerous, but it's you that I need
I'm in love this time, I'm in love this time
Magnetic Field by Lights
You just keep me coming back
Something about how opposites attract
You hold me down, I'm in it for real
Love me, leave me high and dry
I'm back in your arms and I don't know why
I can't get around your magnetic field
Silent by LUME
I'm a deer in headlights, you're the good news
Circling the bathroom whilst we're dripping in truth
And you could hear a pin dropping to the floor
As the air changed in the room
Got me by the throat and the words have left me
As we move into the new
And so I folded
It must be something you can't amplify, so consumed
Think I'm obsessed but in the best way,
And it makes me think I'm brand new
I have NO clue who's done this and who hasn't, I'll tag @theghostofashton @reasonandfaithinharmony @guardian-angle22 and @reyesstrand and anyone else who wants to share some tunes! You can say I tagged you <3
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The Angel Maker: Part Two
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~1.9k
Summary: You still feel guilty for what happened to you and Hotch even though you shouldn't. If you had seen that bomb before getting blasted back, then maybe you wouldn't have so many problems with your "abilities".
Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill
Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated
x
All of your team, the sheriff, and two construction workers are the only people present for this. You don't need the public watching. If for some reason the body isn't in the coffin, then panic will ensue. It's nightfall by the time the process can begin, so there is no need for you to wear sunglasses outside. Hotch isn't too keen on the idea of doing this, but the sheriff has his heart set on this.
"I have to advise against this," Hotch tries again.
"With all due respect, this isn't your town. I have to convince them that Cortland Ryan is dead and buried."
"But you're indulging this killer by perpetuating the ruse he's created."
"He's right. It may embolden him and prompt more murders," Emily agrees.
"Sela lost her only daughter to that bastard. We met when I was working on the case and we grew close. I thought we'd gotten past all this, but I guess I was kidding myself."
The sheriff gestures to the construction workers so that they can begin the process. They turn on their machine that will help dig up the coffin, and as soon as it starts, you get a blinding headache. The loud noise vibrates your ears and therefore hurts the spot where you got injured.
Hotch doesn't have it any better. His ears are damaged from the explosion, and he doubles over in pain. You whimper and place your hands over your ears to help. You stagger back right into Spencer's arm, and he catches you before you fall to the ground.
"Hotch?" Emily asks and places her hand on his shoulder. "Hotch, are you alright? Can I do anything?"
"Y/N, are you okay?" Spencer panics.
The machine stays on for one more minute before it turns off, and you bury your head in Spencer's chest. Hotch's ears must be ringing, but your head is throbbing from the pain. Spencer wraps an arm around your back, and you try your best not to cry.
"I'm okay. I promise," you whisper.
If you had seen the bomb, then you and Hotch wouldn't be injured, and Kate would still be alive.
The coffin is opened, and when you approach it to look inside, your face drops. The coffin is empty. Either Cortland was never killed or someone stole his body. Either way, it's terrible news.
Instead of panicking the entire town that Cortland might be alive, the best thing to do is talk to the doctor who was in the room when Cortland died. Dr. Hagen has an opening the following morning, and you, Derek, and Rossi go visit him at his office.
"Thank you for seeing us on short notice," you say and take a seat at his desk.
"Of course. Now, what was this about?"
"Cortland Ryan. You were one of the doctors in the room when he died. Did he die?"
"Cortland is dead. There's no two ways about it."
"We're just trying to be thorough, Dr. Hagen," Derek says. "We heard that there may have been irregularities with the execution."
"His heart stopped. His pupils were unresponsive. Trust me. That is not the first execution I've pronounced at."
"It was the last," Rossi states. "Did something happen that day to prompt your resignation from the corrections department?"
"Everyone dies differently. Ryan went hard is all. After we cycled the drugs, we realized he was still alive. We weren't prepared for that."
"How is that possible?"
"The catheter dislodged. We reinserted it and started the potassium chloride. He started shaking and spitting. He was suffocating, and the catheter failed again. It took him almost an hour to die, almost as if something were keeping him here. He said this was going to happen, you know."
"What was going to happen?"
"His last words were 'I'll come back'. I have the video of his execution if you'd like to watch it."
"Yes, please."
Dr. Hagen gets the video and hands it over, and you wait until you get back to the police station before watching it. Everyone meets inside the empty conference room before you play the video. Cortland is on the table, but the officers give him an opportunity to say his last words.
"You may think you've seen the last of me, but death cannot take me from you. I will be born again. Today you make me a legend," Cortland grins on camera.
"He always had a flair for the dramatic," the sheriff says.
"We need to debunk this or the whole town's gonna panic."
"It's a little late for that."
The sheriff walks over to the window and lifts the blinds so that you can see the crowd forming outside. They are angry and scared and protesting that something is done to get rid of Cortland for good.
"The grave-robbing we can explain. It has to be a fan."
"You think the same person that did the copycat murder took Ryan's body?" the Sheriff asks.
"It's possible. He had to have help from someone on the inside. I checked the guards who were on duty that night, and the only one in that section was Sid Rutledge. He lives near here," Derek says.
"Good. You and Y/N head over there and see what you can find."
"Let's go," Derek nods.
You and Derek leave the police station and get into the car. As soon as he pulls onto the road, Penelope calls from her cave back in Virginia. Derek answers her call, and his phone immediately connects to the Bluetooth feature in the car.
"Did you know that John Wayne Gacy painted clowns? A murdering pedophile paints clowns, and people hang them on their walls. It's creepy on so many levels."
"Garcia, I didn't know you had that hang-up," Derek says.
"Coulrophobia--the abnormal fear of clowns," you say.
"Oh, no, there is nothing abnormal about it. When I was twelve, a hobo clown groped my breast at a birthday party and made this old-timey honking noise when he did it. Apparently, making it funny makes it okay."
"Were you able to find any auctions on Angel Maker memorabilia?" you ask.
"Oh, my vision, I found a ton. Mr. Maker was quite the self-promoter. He autographed everything: photos, panties, and for the discerning collector, screwdrivers. He also made these little origami figurines out of cigarette boxes, which, I hate to say, are really cute."
"Did you pinpoint the most active collectors?" Derek asks.
"That would be his overseas fans."
"What about local buyers who also turned up on the prison visitor log?"
"Nothing."
"What about sellers? A high-volume broker might know a broader spectrum of fans."
"There is one guy in particular who seems to be the local distributor, as it were. Sid Rutledge."
"Rutledge? He's a guard at Hawkesville, and the person we're going to visit."
"Keep me updated."
Penelope hangs up, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Derek looks over at you in concern before turning the music down a bit.
"Hey, what's going on with you?"
"I should have detected the bomb earlier," you sigh. "I should have seen it coming."
"Don't do that. Don't blame yourself. That wasn't your fault. It was Sam's and that entire cell's. You can't predict everything."
"You sound like Spencer," you scoff.
"Well, then, he is a very wise man."
Derek arrives at Sid's house, but something doesn't feel right. Apart from the front door being left wide open, something about this place doesn't sit right with you. You take out your gun and keep it trained in front of you for protection. Derek does the same thing as you both enter the house cautiously.
"Sid Rutledge, FBI. We're coming in," Derek announces.
You two make your way through the house, stopping in the back bedroom where Sid is. Unfortunately, he isn't alive.
"Damn," you sigh and lower your gun. "One to the head and one to the groin. That's personal."
"Yeah, well, if Rutledge was selling the unsub memorabilia, he knew his identity. The unsub is covering his tracks."
Something about this crime scene doesn't sit right with you, but whenever you try to focus on it, your head hurts. This is very frustrating for you but you don't take it out on Derek.
"Rutledge probably contacted him after you and Emily paid a visit to the prison. He let him in, let his guard down, and he was killed."
You leave the bedroom and head to the bathroom in hopes that might tell you something about who did this or what happened. The first place you look is the medicine cabinet, and right off the bat, you see something that turns this whole case around.
"We got this unsub all wrong," you say and walk back into the bedroom. "He took Viagra. We're dealing with a female unsub. Damn it!"
"Hey, why are you taking this so hard?"
"I didn't see her energy. I couldn't focus because my head hurts. My head hurts because I got injured by a bomb that I should have seen coming."
"There's no point in blaming yourself. It's in the past. You learn to move on whether it was your fault or not. Which it isn't, by the way. Come on, we need to get back to the station."
Derek called this death in, and after the police showed up, you two headed back to the police station. Hotch was informed of this new discovery, and he gathered everyone not working in the field so that he can deliver the profile.
"There have been some strange happenings in this case, but I urge you not to abandon reason in the search for the truth. This is not the work of a ghost, and it's not the work of a killer coming back from the dead. This is the work of somebody who lives right here in lower Canaan, and this person is a woman."
"Her last victim, Sid Rutledge, was the Angel Maker's mule. He smuggled items out of Hawkesville Prison, including the semen that was planted at the first crime scene. She killed Rutledge because he knew she was the copycat, and also because he was blackmailing her."
"We now know that Rutledge was transferred to Hawkesville from a female prison in the wake of allegations that he was using his position to leverage sexual favors from inmates," Hotch says. "We think he did the same thing to our unsub; In exchange for his silence, he wanted sex."
"Because she shot him in the junk, right?" an officer asks.
"That, and the fact that he took a PDE-5 inhibitor shortly before his murder."
"A what?"
"Viagra. We're looking for a white woman in her mid-thirties, and she's highly intelligent. She's not just a fan, she's a groupie. Now, she's not what you would normally expect. More often than not, they're attractive, well-educated, successful, and some are even married," Derek explains.
"Generally, they fall into types. Some are reformers who are on a mission to save or rescue these murderers. Often, this type of groupie has been raised in a repressive, religious environment, and specifically have been exposed to the ideals of sexual repression and subjugation of women," Spencer says.
"Our unsub is a different type, one who suffers from hybristophilia," you say. "It's a sexual attraction to men who commit violent crimes. They give her a power that she lacks, which stems from low self-esteem and a need for a father figure."
"The victims were raped. How do you explain that?" an officer asks.
"She's using an instrument to simulate the sexual assault. This is something that she keeps in her rape kit along with the weapon that she's using to bludgeon her victims."
"This is a list of women who visited and wrote to the Angel Maker while he was in prison," JJ says, passing out papers to everyone. "We've started to track these leads, but the list is extensive, so we're gonna need your help."
"I could use your help," Rossi says, not giving you a choice.
The papers JJ passed out had women's names and addresses on them, so your entire team plus the officers go around town and talk to whoever they can to determine who the unsub is.
x
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