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mysticworks · 1 month

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Still I rise ~ Lewis Hamilton

Reader comforting Lewis, after a disappointing qualifying session.

Word Count 1.2k

Genre: Angst

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His helmet lay strawn on its side, as if tossed to the floor with anger and frustration.

The changing room door was ajar, the sliver of light from outside piercing a fraction of the darkness within.

From it, you could only just make out the flash of yellow - what seemed to be Lewis’ shoes - the neon, bright in the darkness.

The moment you’d seen his post qualifying interview, you’d known; the sadness in his perfectly practised smile, the tension in his furrowed brow, the unfocused eyes as he spoke of his session to the reporter questioning him.

“At some point you start wondering if it's the car or just you, y’know.”

He’d shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to diffuse his answer to the question, the biting on his lip holding in a tremour only you could notice.

After a viciously challenging start to the season, you’d seen the confidence that Lewis usually carried himself with, slowly begin to deflate, and this practice session in Japan seemed to be the absolute breaking point for his positive spirit.

The situation was taxing, understandably, and the Mercedes crew had spent much of the season heads down, working on new improvements to make - yet somehow, progress seemed slow.

Lewis seemed to be blaming himself much more these days, longer hours in the gym, harsher dieting; absolute eternities he’d spend rewatching clips of his race and memorising data the analytics team sent across.

He was disappointed in himself. Torn apart from self-doubt and worry.

And now, post qualifying interview, he seemed to have gone missing.

You’d spent the past however long looking from him; pacing the entirety of the paddock to the Mercedes garage, even peeking into the press conference green room where you’d bumped into a very confused Max- having to squeak a quick “sorry,” before rushing back on your mission to hunt Lewis down.

Yet here he was, confining himself to the darkness of his changing room, burying himself in wavering self -confidence.

Sucking in a deep breath, you took a ginger step towards the door, lightly giving it a quick knock to signal your entrance. The light flooded in from outside, and from the doorway you caught sight of Lewis - your heart crumbling as you took in the sight of him.

Oh you poor, poor thing.

He was sat on the floor in the far corner of the room curling into himself. Head in his hands, his knees drawn up to his chest. You saw his body tremble in a tremendously suppressed sob, one you could only wonder how long he’d been holding in.

It didn’t take you a second longer to reach him, falling to the floor in front of him. It was then you noticed just how violently his hands were shaking, and you reached out, tenderly taking them into your own.

Lewis responded to your touch immediately, his head lifting to meet your eyes.

In an attempt to soothe him, you rubbed circles into the back of his hands, eyes locking with his bloodshot ones.

You broke the silence first, in a whisper, soft but firm. “You’re going to be okay.”

He gave you a tight smile through his tears - sad and forced. “I’ve lost it. I’ve lost it all.”

His voice gave him away, cracking 2 words into his sentence and his eyes filled with fresh tears. They spilled out onto his face and he tore his hands away from yours to wipe them away.

Lewis had always been the type to keep his emotions in control - and this time he’d reached breaking point.

“Lewis,” you reached out for his face, forcing his eyes to meet yours again. There was defeat in them. Like the hope and passion to fight for wins had been sucked out and replaced with tonnes and tonnes of self-doubt.

“You haven’t lost anything.”

Rubbing the tears off his cheeks you pulled him into an embrace, and in moments his arms were tight around you, his head resting on your shoulder and soaking it as he let out the frustration, the pressure, the anger, the pain.

“It’s not the car. It’s me.”

You shook your head, determined to let him know that this was no fault of his own. He curled further and further into you, and you held him tighter, cradling his quivering body in your arms in an attempt to take the pain away.

Lewis had always been physically bigger than you being the athlete he was; taller, bulkier, stronger.

Yet in your arms he seemed so small. So vulnerable. As if needing your protection to shield him from scrutiny.

You rubbed his back, shushing him with words of affirmation.

He was stronger than this. He was a fighter. He was a champion. And that's what he needed to know.

How he’d conquered years of championships and podiums. How he’d brought it home on only 3 wheels at Silverstone. How he’d stolen the show in his rookie years, being only a point behind the season winner.

But also how he was so much more than just a formula one driver.

A motivator, justice seeker. An inspiration, role model for thousands and thousands if not millions. Someone passionate to right wrongs, unafraid to condemn the world for its immorality.

“One failure doesn’t set you back Lewis,” His sobs had quietened down, and he gave a small sniffle in reply, “A bad qualifying isn’t a bad race. A bad race isn’t a bad season. A bad season isn’t a bad career.”

You wanted him to see what so many saw in him. What you saw in him. His eloquence, charisma, humility.

And so you tightened your hold against him, giving him a gentle squeeze on his palm, to let him know, it would all be okay.

A small smile erupted on your face when you felt him give a small squeeze back. One that showed he acknowledged what you’d said.

You pressed a kiss against his forehead, before leaning against it so your breaths intermingled. “You’re a fighter, Lewis. So get up and fight for this.”

—---------------—----------------------------------------

Race day:

Lewis zipped up his race suit, adjusting his ear piece before picking up his helmet and striding towards his car.

He felt a new found confidence surge into him today - his breakdown less than 24 hours prior to this race lifting a huge weight off his chest he didn't know he'd been holding onto.

It was as if his faith had been restored, by someone letting him know that it was okay to fall. It was okay to hit hurdles, as long as he picked himself up and fought through it.

Lewis found your face in the crowd of engineers - not that you'd been hard to find - you stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of Mercedes team uniforms.

“Ready?” You let warmth fill your eyes, closing the gap between you until the chaotic bustle of the paddock drowned away - becoming no more than a background buzz.

“Ready.” Lewis’ voice was low, yet it held certainty. You rested your palms against his solid torso, eyes locking with his, through the visor of his helmet.

There were no signs of yesterday's doubts; no question of ability; the tears of vulnerability dissolved from the fire that set ablaze in his orbs of gold.

He was ready to make a statement.

Lewis flashed you a smile, cocking his head to the side with the charisma you'd fallen so in love with.

“I am a fighter, and I will fight for this. I am a fighter, so I will rise.”

#formula 1 x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #formula 1 #lewis hamilton #formula one #formula one x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton angst #still i rise

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levithestripper · 1 year

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romantic headcanons with peeta mellark

masterlist

warnings: fluff, gender-neutral reader.

length: 1k || read on ao3 || join my taglist

notes: rewatched the movies again and you can guess what happened from there.

peeta with a crush is singlehandedly the cutest thing you’ve had the privilege of witnessing. he’s super awkward around you, practically tripping over his own feet before he discovers his confidence.

his favorite date activity is picnics! he enjoys sitting under a shady tree and watching the clouds roll by, soaking up the sun’s rays with you by his side. more often than not, he’ll fall asleep there too. hands behind his head, one knee in the air, chest slowly rising up and down.

peeta is the biggest cuddler you’ll ever meet, hands down. sitting together? he has an arm around your waist and his head on your shoulder. sitting across from each other at a table? you can feel his knee pressed against yours. walking together? he laces his fingers with yours every chance he gets.

you’ll find yourself with more forehead kisses than you know what to do with. not that you’re complaining.

he teaches you how to dance! when peeta was little, his mother would put on a record and dance with him in the living room. there weren’t many records—or record players—left in district twelve, so his mother took great care of her small collection. his favorite was a love song by elvis presley. he nor his mother knew anything about the artist, but it didn’t stop them from getting lost in the singer’s words. years later, peeta plays that same song when teaching you how to dance. listening to the lyrics now, with you in front of him, peeta finally understands what elvis had been telling him all this time. he really can’t help but fall in love with you.

this boy is the biggest sap in the entirety of panem. he handmakes you cards, drawing cute doodles around the words he writes. sometimes you swear he’s making up new ‘holidays’ just as an excuse to make you a card. he looks so cute when he says, ‘did you know today is hug your partner day? the capitol declared it a national holiday!’ so you can’t help but go along with it.

not only does he create new holidays, but he also says random days are ‘national [blank] day.’ in the mellark household, mondays are ‘national breakfast in bed day,’ wednesdays are ‘national sleep past noon day,’ thursdays are ‘national kisses day,’ and sundays are ‘national candlelight dinner day.’ you’ll never admit it, but secretly, you love it when he uses excuses like ‘national kisses day’ to kiss you more than he already does. you tease him about it all the time, but it only backfires, as peeta gives it right back.

it doesn’t matter how long the two of you have been dating, peeta will still flirt with you like it’s the first time he’s laid eyes on you. he’ll lean against the closest piece of furniture, chin resting in the palm of his hand, proceeding to use only the cheesiest pick-up lines he could think of. you play along, of course, something you’re more than happy to do. the game ends when peeta asks you out on a ‘first date,’ and he cheers when you say yes.

you can always tell when peeta wakes up from a nightmare. he presses himself into your side, his head on your chest or pressed into the crook of your neck.

peeta will hurl compliments at you all day, but the minute you give it back to him, his face lights up like a strawberry. at the start of the relationship, he had a tough time accepting praise, regardless of what he did to receive it. he’d always subtly deflect it somehow, saying it was ‘no big deal, really!’ or ‘don’t mention it, anyone would’ve done the same.’ with your help—and a never-ending wave of admiration—peeta slowly grew more comfortable accepting the accolades he deserves.

if it wasn’t obvious, he loves all things domestic. something he loves about it is when he has together-alone time with you. each doing your own thing in the same room, silently keeping the other company while they work.

i’ve said this before, but peeta has multiple sketchbooks filled with drawings and half-finished sketches of you. peeta never tells you when he’s sketching you, claiming he prefers a ‘candid, more natural’ look to his portraits. once he fills a sketchbook, you’ll cuddle up next to him as he eagerly shows you everything he’s completed.

peeta’s love language is physical touch, acts of service, and gift-giving! (if that wasn’t obvious enough already). you almost regret telling him your favorite dessert/meal because peeta ensures you’ll never go without it, cooking/baking whatever it is whenever you mention you have a taste for it. you can’t help but love it and him.

as for physical touch, if it wasn’t clear before, peeta’s a top-rate cuddle partner. but his love for closeness manifests itself in different ways, too. back rubs, for one, are a prime example. he starts at the base of your neck, having just finished running his hands through your hair. from there, he rubs down the ridge of your spine, his thick, calloused fingers hitting the best spots every time. it never fails to turn you into a pile of mush, something peeta is (not so secretly) proud of.

with gift-giving, don’t always expect these extravagant, over-the-top presents that cost more than either of you make in a year. if he knows there is something expensive you’ve been yearning for, he’ll save up some cash to surprise you with it. typically, you’re gifted things like a bouquet of flowers, a new book, or something interesting/unique he found at the hob. you’ve slowly begun to fill a shoebox worth of stuff he’s given you over the years.

after you get out of the shower, under the guise of ‘helping you dry your hair,’ he’ll brush through it, detangling any knots still present. to be completely honest, peeta was playing with your hair more than actually drying it. you’re not in any place to complain; you do the same thing to peeta after his showers.

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forever-rogue · 1 year

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hello miss bee! 🐝💛

if you're in the mood for a mando fic, id love to request something that involves gifting din a new cape and him falling in love w reader more and deciding he wants to give her something special too 🫶 lord knows he needs a new one bc i was rewatching s1 and i noticed it didn't always look so battered like the current state it's in bc it has has a bunch of holes in it and maybe more grogu puke 😭✋

thank you lovely!! 🫶

AN | Imagine the day Din finally gets some style. Softness ahead 🥰

Warnings | None

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re staring,” you could hear the teasing lilt in his voice. You brought your gaze up to his eye level and gave him a small smile that you could just feel him returning from under the helmet.

“I am not,” you stuck out your tongue, but felt the heat rising in your face, “I just happened to be looking in that direction and you happen to take up a lot of room.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed in content as the two of you turned your attention to Grogu, who was running through the flower field, chasing butterflies. He was just too cute and you couldn’t help the small sound that escaped your lips. Din studied you for a moment, watching your face light up with joy, “Grogu.”

The small creature stopped for a moment and looked at the Mandalorian before cooing happily and waddling over to him. You watched as he came closer and plucked a flower and held it out to him. He made a sound of wonder before gently taking it from you.

“Grogu,” he turned towards the sound of his father’s voice, “show her the butterflies.”

He reached for your hand in a clear attempt to get you to follow him. You did so without hesitation and followed after him, laughing as he tried to run as best as he could. He was just so innocent, free, and happy that it made you happy too.

The two of them had been in your life for a few months now, since they’d stopped on Nevarro and decided to take some rest and respite. You were out, going to a cafe with some friends, when you stopped the little guy, distressed and looking for who you learned was his father. You’d reunited them and the rest was history.

You always knew that their presence in your life wasn’t permanent, but you weren’t sure as to its temporariness either. You’d decided that all you could was be there with them and take in all the moments and experiences. The rest would fall into place, one way or another.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Din?” you stopped washing the dishes and turned to the broad man next to you. He stopped drying the dish in his hand and turned to you, motioning for you to continue on, “I have a stupid question.”

“No such thing,” he insisted and then paused for a moment, “there are stupid questions, but none from you.”

“I could easily change that,” you snorted in amusement, “so I guess you’ll have to give me your opinion after.”

“Okay,” you liked the sound of his soft laugh, and you liked knowing you were the source of it.

“Have you ever considered getting a new cape?” it sounded so incredibly stupid as soon as you said it out loud. Din remained silent for a moment and you felt like you had just asked the dumbed question in the galaxy. You fumbled around for a moment, waving your hands nervously, “you know what? That sounded so stupid even just saying it out loud, so let’s just forget it.”

It was then that he reached over and put his hand on your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “it wasn’t a stupid question. It’s just not something I’ve ever been asked before.”

“Really?” the shock on your face was evident - his cape had definitely seen better days. It had permanent stains, rips and tears, and some of the ends were singed. It was more of a tattered piece of fabric than anything.

��Really,” he liked the look of surprise on your face, how your eyes grew wide and lips pulled into a pretty pout, “It’s not really a big deal when you’re…”

“Running around the galaxy and saving everyone?”

“I wouldn't necessarily say everyone,” his cheeks warmed up and he was glad that you couldn’t see his face, or you would have seen his bright red face, “but something like that. Any particular reason why you’re asking?”

“Not really,” you shrugged it off, “just curious.”

“Curiosity is good,” he promised as you nodded shyly and turned back to the dishes, “just ask Grogu.”

As if on cue, the little one looked up from where he was playing on the floor and babbled happily at the two of you. The way Din looked back at him made your ache with realization that you wouldn’t have them in your life anymore.

You pushed it all to the side and reminded yourself not to worry about it. There was no reason to ruin the moment.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were walking through the markets, Grogu in tow as you picked up some fresh fruits and vegetables…and a little treat for him of course. You kept your pace slow so he could keep up and it was almost too precious.

About halfway through the market, you came across a stall boasting beautiful fabrics and silks. You stopped so suddenly that your companion almost walked into your leg. Reaching down and picking him up, you held him up so he could look at everything along with you.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ you touched some of the soft looking fabrics, trying to picture them with what you had in mind. He reached towards one of the darker looking fabrics and you nodded in agreement, “I think that’s the one too. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

He cooed happily as you waved down the vendor and asked for several bolts. You watched him wrap up the fabric and paid for it before slipping it gently into your bag. You knew exactly what you were going to do with it as soon as you got home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were practically giddy throughout the entire night and Din could tell that something was up. Just when you almost couldn’t take it anymore, Din unintentionally sped up your little plan.

“Alright, what’s up, Sunshine?” you almost jumped up from your seat as you ran to your room, leaving him watching you in surprise. He exchanged a look with his foundling before they heard running back down the stairs, a small package in your hand.

“This is for you,” you almost shoved the parcel in his hands, practically vibrating with excitement, “it’s nothing much, but I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be great, but you didn’t have to get me anything,” he opened the present slowly and meticulously, making sure not to tear any of the paper or potentially ruin whatever was inside. As soon as he realized what it was, “oh.”

You felt like the life force was draining from your body as your heart plummeted into your stomach. He hated it. You shouldn’t have done this and you really just wanted to slink away and hide.

“D-Din, I’m sorry,” you swallowed thickly, “I didn’t mean to overstep or anything, I just thought it would be nice.”

“What are you sorry for?” he asked, his voice low and soft, “this is…beautiful. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” you promised, relief flooding your body when you realized that he wasn’t upset, “I saw the fabric at the market and thought it was perfect - Grogu agreed.”

“I…thank you,” you could hear the touch of motion in his voice that made your stomach flutter happily, “it’s a really nice gesture. No one’s done this kind of thing for me in a long time.”

“Well,” you tried to play off the rush of emotions and nervously raked your hand through your hair, “you really needed a new cape, so now you have a new one. Just make sure not to ruin it this time, yeah?”

“I promise to do my best,” and you could practically feel the smile that was on his face.

“You haven’t seen the best part,” you reached for Grogu and motioned for him to climb into your lap. Once he did, you pointed to his little back where you’d draped a matching little cap over his shoulders, “ta-da!”

“It’s the same,” you nodded as he reached over and touched it softly, “it’s amazing.”

“I couldn’t just make one for you,” you said in a teasing no duh tone, “the clan of two is a package duo.”

“Yes,” he agreed. There wasn’t a world where he couldn’t imagine the little one being a part of his life - he was his son. Part of him also couldn’t imagine a life without you in it either. He’d never expected that much, but now he was going to have to figure it all out, “you’re wonderful.”

“You aren’t so bad either,” you grinned, beaming and lovely and magic, “kinda like you two a lot.”

Yeah. You were going to make things very difficult.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Mandalorian was practically sweating bullets, hot and warm in his suit as he watched you play with the kid. You could tell that something had been off with him all day, but your mind had been going to the fact that he was going to tell you about his plan to leave. But you didn’t want to face that reality, not yet, and instead focused on being happy with the boys.

Little did you know that it was something entirely different.

“Can we talk?” Din’s voice was gruff as he approached the two of you, causing you to freeze. Uh oh. You didn’t like the sound of this at all.

“Of course,” you stood up and straightened yourself out as you trailed after him. You could see his fist clenching and unclenching as he walked towards the house. He reached into his bag and pulled out a slender wrapped object but didn’t quite hand it to you, “we have to go. There’s some things I still need to do.”

“Oh,” and it felt like your world was crashing around you, “right. Of course. That makes sense.”

“But,” you perked up at the sound of his but, “I won’t ask you to come because I don’t know what it all holds or how dangerous it will get. But if you wanted to, or just wanted to tag along for a little bit I wouldn’t say no-”

“Yes,” there wasn’t a moment of hesitation or questioning behind your answer, “yes.”

He froze for a moment, surprised by your enthusiastic response, but nodded. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He handed you the object that he was holding and you took it gingerly.

When you slowly unwrapped it, you almost laughed at what it was. A vibro-knife, beautifully and intricately carved. It seemed so very on point for it to come from Din. You grinned at him before laughing softly, “a knife?”

“You never know when you’re going to need to protect yourself,” he said sheepishly, “I will try my best to make sure you never have to use it. But just in case.”

“Just in case,” you repeated, “I can handle that.”

“I know you can, Sunshine,” he gently touched your cheek, “you’re sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

Things were going to be just fine.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin one shot #din djarin imagine #pedro pascal #the mandalorian

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tteokdoroki · 11 months

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sucking and marking kiri’s neck for your own pleasure not his and leaving purply marks all over him.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, established relationship, suggestive, dry humping, jealousy, possession, excessive marking, hickies, hair pulling, pro hero!kirishima, gn!reader - not beta read !

walk with me nonnie, can you imagine like marking the shit out of kiri’s chest and neck after watching one of his post-rescue interviews— the damsel in distress having thrown themselves all over him on national TV.

he’ll come home tired after his patrol and the agency work— flopping down on the couch to curl into you and while you flick through channels, giving eijirou the unknown silent treatment. the news will flash with the report of his brave work, the girl clinging to him for dear life and looking up at your boyfriend with bright, twinkling eyes as she purposefully drags her words so kiri will pay extra attention to her.

you thought that by the time eijirou came home you’d be completely calm, over it but then just the sight of him getting all flustered rewatching the clip — asking if his arms look to big or if he should have been a little more humble. you can’t even fault kirishima because he’s just too nice to realise when other people are crossing an invisible line. even sitting next to him, you feel like you can smell her all over him and see exactly where she put her hands on him.

so after a few more moments of ignoring the big guy, you haul yourself into his lap — not kissing the way surprise spreads over eijirou’s handsome features before his large hands settle on the dips in your waist. his red eyes darkening with amusement.

“well, hello there, gorgeous.”

“shut up.” the way you latch onto his thick neck could be compared to that of a vampire — sinking your teeth into the golden hue of his skin, nibbling on the flesh until a purple-like bruise rises to the surface. “‘m mad at you,” you whisper, voice basking in a huskiness that empties eijirou’s brain. he’s too slow, too sweet to catch onto what’s happening.

instead he twitches and rumbles and whines underneath you as you use his chest and neck like a canvas. you aggressively paint shades of blue, burgundy and purple across eijirou’s skin, slowly but surely turning him into a needy mess. he chases a friction that you don’t give to him even while perched pretty in his lap. he whines like an angel’s song as you tongue the marks you’ve given him, lapping at the sensitive areas on your boyfriend’s collar bones while you debate on covering them up with more.

having this amount of control and possession over such a big and strong pro hero sends loved up and hormones shooting across your brain and right around your body. it makes you feel good knowing that red riot lets you have him like this, let’s you do these things to him. even though you both know he could very well turn this situation around.

“please, honey. i just wanna…god let me feel you. please?” kirishima pleads and begs as you litter him with enough love bites to last a life time. you know it feels good for him, but for you it’s better. like taking a shot of whatever alcohol you desire — it gives you a buzz. makes you hyperaware that everyone will see your claim in eijirou peeking out of his hero costume.

“baby,” he tries again, breathless and bucking his hips up into yours, anything to soothe the aching, leaking hard-on he sports. “god, i know i’ve got some teeth on me…but you’re really tearin’ a guy up here. please give me more… s’frustrating.” kirishima mewls weakly but lets you grab the black roots of his hair, tugging his head back so you can expose more of his unmarred flesh to your ravenous mouth.

you have an appetite for ruining him, blessing every inch of his sensitive skin with your bite marks. “you know what’s really frustrating, eijirou?” you mumble after sucking on a spot just under his ear — one of those spots that makes his huge body convulse under a simple touch. “watching your boyfriend let some girl put her hands all over him. watching him do nothing about it too.” he groans low and sexy at what you say, hiccuping between the open mouthed kisses you trail down to his plush chest. “it’s like you wanted to make me mad on purpose, red.”

“maybe…fuck… maybe i did.” kirishima sighs, back arching from the couch when you wrap your wet mouth around his juicy peck — biting down on his pebbled nipples before you move to leave teeth marks all across them. “if it gets you like this.”

you lick, you suck, you bite and teeth and bring red riot crumbling down to the ground. by the time you’re done, his chest, neck and tits are sore with midnight purple marks you’ve left all over them and kirishima lets you kiss every single one to soothe him.

it’s safe to say that the headlines reporting in red riot change over the next few days — most of them highly focused on the aftermath of your jealousy he wears proudly on his exposed chest.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #kirishima smut #kirishima thirst #kirishima imagine #bnha smut #bnha thirst #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagine #eijirou kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima smut #mha smut #mha thirst #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification #✧ ₊˚💬੭ — unknown messenger

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pixeechix21 · 5 months

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Mr grinch🎄

Simon/keegan/konig (whoever you want baby😉😙) x fem!reader

Summary: hate hate hate, loooove, hate hate… He hated Christmas but good god he loved the pathetic sounds coming from you.

Tw: edging, dom/sub, riding, sit not fucking hoover, praise, eating you out like Christmas dinner, p in v, ORAL, fucking n fun times😊💕

You had been making dinner when he came home to see you dancing and singing to his playlist. Twirling around you sing with the spoon, he smiles ear to ear to see you wearing your apron with nothing underneath. He comes to you, holding your waist, swinging side to side. He pulls you in closer, feeling your soft body press up against his chest. “I’ve missed you luv,” he kisses you liking the sauce from your lips.

“Bad day?” You say kissing him back before turning to the pasta. His hands hold you from behind as he rest his head over yours.

“One could say that. Someone decided to decorate my weapons locker with Christmas lights,” he groans, pressing himself into your back.

“Probably Soap,” you laugh. “You should just enjoy the Christmas cheer at this point, he’ll never stop,” you breathe out as his hand cups your breast, feeling him pressed against your lower back.

“Not until someone convinces me otherwise luv,. As with Soap he’ll get payback soon enough,” He ducks his head to your shoulder, nibbling it.

“Someone? How about you go to the bedroom? Don’t do anything,” you face him, arching your back as he pulls you in, your hand runs between his pants and boxers. Biting your lips to hide your smile as you watch him smirk, smack your ass before heading upstairs.

You turn off the stove and let him wait. Creeping up into the en suite you take your sweet time.

Through the cracked door he has full view of you in the mirror. Undoing the apron he can see all of you. No matter how many times and for how long he’s see you, he will never grow old of how you look; who you are.

His blood starts to pump down, as he watches you turn on the shower, water running down you. Down between the peaks of your breasts, down to between your legs. He can’t help his hands to go down to release the growing stiffness in his pants. Watching as your hand washes your soft skin, caressing your tits, light moan float in the steaming air. His breathing deepens as he observes as your fingers move in and out.

You revel at catching him watching your mouth slightly open. You worker harder, circling and moaning louder.

He’s entranced as he hears you coming while he grows harder with every second.

Watching you come out of en-suite in a small towel. His trust rising and falling rapidly. Once in front of the bed edge, you let the towel fall to the floor lightly.

“I can get with the holiday season, all right, “his eyes glamorous he can see you perfectly. Coming onto the bed you climb over hand skill and doing his belt. He shifts up against the head as you takeoff his pants. “Sit back baby let me help you with the bad day,” you kiss him, following his happy trail up past tattooed abdomen to his neck. He runs his hands down your body as you bite and lightly pull on his bottom leg. His groans rumble in his chest, feeling you sit comfortably on his throbbing member.

He’d wanted to hold you all day. Daydreaming about how gorgeous you look bent over as he ran into you. Especially after you sent him that video, in the new set he bought you, playing with yourself teasing him. He’s been hard all day., becoming more pained as he rewatched the video, helplessly.

Your hair smells like strawberries and all of a sudden that’s his favourite fruit. “It was so bad of you to send me that. He talks your ass the sting, shooting electricity deep within your core. “I had you stuck in my head all – “ slap, “-day.” Balloons. You kiss him and suck his hot skin marking his neck purple. Humping his lap needing as he continues, “if only I could’ve had you right then and there in the meeting in front of everyone. I’d fucked and filled you full love, and I just let everyone watch, “he sounds lustful his hold becoming firmer. His hand dives down to your entrance, you whine as his large finger start to stretch you out. “Look at you wet at the thought of,” he fingers your hole, feel clench around him. As if he knew he stopped just as you started riding his fingers so that you could finish.

“No, no princess. I had to wait all day, unable to help my blue balls. Now it’s your turn,” he shifts the both of you flat on the bed.

Breathing is nonexistent as kiss, passionately. Breaking Your thumb across your swim lips. Let’s put it, demands “sit on my face “taking your hips, positioning your legs to either side of his head. Too scared to sit down, you helper. His hands clamped down on your hips and forced you down.

“I said fucking sit,” he growls, against your sensitive spot.

“But-”

“I said fucking sit, so I can make you forget how to walk love,”he doesn’t let you hover, forcing your full weight on his face. “If I tap twice that’s the only time you can get off. Understood?”

As you’re saying yes, he’s in you. Licking and sucking around, and, and across your clit. he’s too much. You feel his tongue entered you laughing at your juices. You’re a mess. You don’t care anymore, whether you’re hovering or suffocating him. You ride his face, quickening in peace. Holding onto the headboard with both hands “please – I’m so close – fuck – oh God, I’m so close – I’m gonna I’m gonna –”you whine and exclaim, tossing your head back. Movement slow as he hears you, playing with the intensity; pulse of frustration comes over. “It hurts – please – I need to!” you let out I screwed shot.

As you calm down, his freehand comes behind and starts again. His light sucking paired against his fingers curling inside you to hit your sweet spot makes you blind with ecstasy. He repeats it all over again.

Looking down at him, you catch the dark smile in his eyes. “It’s so painful, I’m begging, please let me come,” can’t stop your begging, with the way your clit is throbbing against his purring he left you up and down back to his lap. Your legs are shaking heavily as you put onto your back.

“If you’re gonna come, it’s going to be around my fucking cock.” His words are soft, reassuring. Almost.

He relishes in seeing tear up as he stretches your type pussy. You’re taking him so well, even when you’re so worked up.

The lack of stimulation and relief from your clit hurts wonderfully. It’s intoxicating how good the feeling of pain can be. One foot over his shoulder he can watch as you bounce up and down, moaning his name sweetly. You feel his large, hot hand, press down on your lower stomach as he fucks you hard faster.

“No, no, I’m gonna come, I can’t control it, “you say, panicked an overwhelming feeling washes over you.

“ lThats. Let it out come on, I need to feel you milk.“ he says groaning, he holds himself back. You listen to him relaxing as you finally get to climax. You scream his name so loud, it makes him proud. You clench and pulls it around his cock as he doesn’t stop his continuous breath.

Pulling out heat jerks into his hand, his moaning rings in your ears. “Y/n, shit y/n! Christ!”

Hearing him lose it coming all over you, makes you want to go another round, but you’re shattered at the aftermath of what just proceeded. Taking the towel he cleans you up. Holding each other, he realised Christmas wasn’t all that bad after all.

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bagopucks · 1 year

Text

T. Zegras - It’s An Off Day

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Itsy bitsy fighting, jokes and implication of sex

I rewatched the Sandbaggers video today with Zig and Coley, and I swear it kills me every time. Biz is a national treasure. Nothing beats his missed swing in the vid with Sid and Nate tho. Quinn Hughes request is getting posted tomorrow too!

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Everybody talks about the female menstrual cycle. Everybody knows it’s not always the most delectable, and how the hormones affect your mood and body in many ways.

Nobody discusses the male hormonal cycle though. The twenty four hour rise and fall of testosterone, that can dictate how a man handles their day. For most guys, it’s not really an issue. It’s nothing compared to a woman’s monthly schedule, but that isn’t to say things don’t go off track every once in a while.

The Ducks have hit a losing streak. I’ve seen it before, it’s not the first one, but this one seems to bother Trevor the most. I can’t tell why, I just know it has. He stresses a lot when he’s in these bad times, and that stress has always messed with his head, but now it seems he’s all over the place. He’s skipped out on workouts scheduled, slept in more, and his appetite is barely existent. When he does eat, it’s a shit ton, but it’s usually only once a day. His body going from a strict routine to an absolute mess has taken a toll, but it’s also made those hormonal cycles incredibly out of tune. It makes him irritable in the mornings if I text him too early, and careless in the evenings if something gets too difficult to do.

And the worst part is that he’s not the only one in the midst of a ‘cycle.’ We’re both moody, and we’re both out of tune. It’s hard for him to say something I don’t get mad at, and even harder for me to not yell at him when he’s being difficult. I knew the rubber band was going to snap, I just didn’t think it would be so soon.

It’s the middle of the day when Trevor shows up at my place. I’d asked him to come over for a bit, hopeful that we could try and work in a night of relaxation, but the lack of communication of our own issues was making it extremely hard.

“Hey, babe.” He sounded so exhausted when he stepped through the front door. I don’t know why it made me so angry.

“You didn’t have to show up if you didn’t want to.” I called from the dining room table, assuming he’d come and find me. My face was down in a computer screen anyway, working on a college essay.

“Who told you I didn’t want to come?” His tone is defensive. I couldn’t blame him. We’re both going through our own things. But in the moment? In the moment it pisses me off that he doesn’t hear how he sounds.

“Trevor you sound like I’ve been hounding you all day to be here. I only asked you once.” I snapped right back, finally hearing the sound of shoes being kicked off and the front door being harshly shut.

“You asked me once and I came. Why would I not want to be here? I’ll tell you what makes me want to leave,” Trevor stomped right into the dining room. He stopped in the doorway. “That attitude right there.” He pointed at me, and god if he didn’t sound like a chastising mother in that moment.

“God- Trevor!” The exhaustion laced in my own tone outweighed the anger. I dropped my head into my hands before lifting it to look at him. I stopped. He looked about as shitty as I did.

His hair was a mess, and he had bags under his eyes. I noticed a red spot on his cheek I knew would turn into a pimple soon, but I had a few on my forehead anyway. It seemed Trevor noticed my own state as well. We were both wearing sweats and t-shirts. I had on one of his Ducks shirts, and he wore a plain black one. We both looked like we needed to be baptized in sleep and energy drinks.

My expression softened. Silence overtook the room. I sighed. “Off day?” My question caught Trevor off guard, but the tension seemed to melt away from his body in an instant. We weren’t fighting, we just weren’t communicating.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his gaze falling to the floor. I shut my laptop and slowly got up, crossing the room to meet him in the doorway.

“Me too.” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and Trevor snaked his own around my hips.

“We’re both having shitty days.” Trevor managed a somber smile. “Imagine that.”

“How about a bath? Then maybe some face masks?” I reached up to smooth my finger over the red bump on his cheek, causing him to pull his head back and mumble an ‘ow.’ Sure, the skin could be sore when a pimple was first forming, but not /that/ bad.

“Don’t be a baby.” The irritation was evident in my tone. Trevor smiled again.

“I love it when you’re moody.” A minute ago, I could have sworn he did not love it. “Here.. let me carry you.” I didn’t bother to argue, instead I jumped when he asked me to, and allowed him to carry me bridal-like down the hall to my bedroom and into the bathroom.

“Trevor your hand is digging into my side,” I complained softly before he put me down.

“Chill out.. I just didn’t want to drop you.” He turned away to grab towels before he could see the daggers I was glaring in his direction.

I gently pushed him out of the way to grab my own towel, shaking my head at his behavior.

“Alrighty then..” Trevor muttered, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the floor.

“You know where the hamper is.”

“Goddamn. I’ll pick it up after.” He was tense again, I could tell.

“No, Trevor. Pick it up now. You always say after and then you forget.” I turned to look at him, tossing the towel I had down on the counter.

“Well I won’t forget this time!” He raised his voice slightly, defensive once again.

“Yes you will! Just like Jamie gets on you about leaving your car keys everywhere!” I matched his tone, resting one of my hands on the counter to lean on it.

“That’s different!”

“Alright, then what about the towels? And bowls right beside the kitchen sink? What about all the times you pull my books off my shelves and never put them back? Is all that different too?” I snapped, awaiting a good excuse that I had yet to hear.

Usually I wasn’t this hard on Trevor. I didn’t know what all went on in his mind, but he did try his best not to leave things around. He’d improved since we first met, but sometimes things simply distracted him, and he always apologized and felt sorry when I pointed it out to him.

Trevor wasn’t having it this time though. This was a fight now.

“You’re so bitchy!” He leaned over to grab his shirt, storming out of the bathroom after and pulling it back on.

“Yeah? I’m not the one throwing a tantrum right now, Zegras!” He paused to turn and look at me, uncertain of the implications behind his last name. His brow was furrowed, silently asking where I got the audacity.

“You don’t even listen. Forget this.” I followed him all the way back down the hall and to the front door. I watched as he put his shoes on, an overwhelming sadness eating away at my heart.

Trevor turned to look at me, hopeful to get one last dig in. He stopped when he noticed the tears in my eyes.

“Just fucking leave, Trevor.”

I didn’t want him around any more. It was clear we couldn’t coexist when we both had our own issues going on. He looked defeated, and even guilty, but he left nonetheless.

I retreated back to my bedroom after, crying silently all while telling myself it was my fault, and angrily blaming him. I drove him away, but he put the nails in his own coffin. Who knew when he’d text or call, or ask to see me again. He may never. I didn’t expect him to return at any point that day. And I certainly didn’t expect it to be within a few hours.

By the time the sun began to set, the tears had slowed, and I was able to make myself dinner. I sat on the couch, my laptop on the coffee table with a plate full of dumplings in my lap. Scream was playing on the tv, somehow ironically managing to calm me. I heard a soft knock on the door, but I was hopeful whoever was there would leave. My hopes however, were unfulfilled. I heard the lock jingle before the door opened. I looked up to see Trevor standing there, two grocery bags in hand and an innocent look on his face as he froze.

We stared at each other for a moment, uncertain of the other’s feelings, before he finished walking inside and shut the door.

“You just keep doing your thing. I won’t bother you.” Trevor spoke. It was all I needed to go back to my laptop and my work. Trevor ventured off into my dining room, and I heard him settle at the table before silence filled my apartment again.

Five minutes passed before I heard a clicking noise. I paid no mind. I spotted Trevor in the corner of my eye, entering the room at a slow pace. A sneaky pace. It pissed me off just knowing he was up to something.

He sat in the arm chair across the room by the window, dropping a stack of paper on the floor and two pens, as well as the grocery bag. I was still unaware of what was in it. He pulled his phone out, and eventually I stopped paying any attention to him. I just got through the end of a paragraph on my essay, moving my plate to the coffee table when I heard a pop. Then I felt something hit me in the chest and land in my lap.

My brow pulled together in confusion as I looked down to see a little blue dart with an orange tip. Oh my god I’m gonna kill him

“Trevor.” I looked up at him, brow furrowed. He gestured toward the dart. I looked back down, rolling it in my hand to see a white piece of paper taped to it. I looked back up for a moment, questioning his antics, then I made quick work of peeling the tape and paper off the dart.

I flipped the paper over, noticing Trevor’s handwriting immediately.

I’m really sorry about today

My heart fluttered, I heard the rustle of the grocery bag, and when I looked up, Trevor presented me with a second gun, and a few darts of my own. We met in the middle of the floor to make the exchange before retreating to our opposite ‘trenches’. He even provided me with a few pieces of paper and the tape to make my own message.

I jotted one down quickly, taped it to my own dart, and loaded my gun before firing. Reluctant smiles painted both our lips as Trevor grabbed the dart. He paused for a moment, turning to glare up at me when he noticed the copious amount of tape I used. He wasn’t going to be forgiven without a little hassle.

Once he got the note off, and all the tape off his fingers, I watched his expression contort from frustration to relief.

That’s okay. I shouldn’t have been so mean either

Trevor got a piece of paper to write another note, and I tossed the tape over to him. He seemed to be wrapped up in a long message, and I smirked when an idea came to mind. I loaded a blank dart into my gun and aimed, firing and trying to hide my snickers when the foam bullet popped him right in the forehead.

Trevor immediately looked up at me, laughing out a soft, “hey!” Seeing him smile again made me sigh. We’d be okay.

“Took too long,” I responded sheepishly, setting my gun down on the couch. “I want you to talk to me, Trev. Come over here.” He set his own gun down, quickly coming to my side and sitting on the couch next to me.

“What were you busy writing over there?”

“I uhm..” he paused, leaning back against the couch. “That I love you.. and I don’t want you to be mad at me for the way I treated you. I know it was shitty, but there’s a lot going on right now and.. I guess I just forgot to leave the anger at work.” He sounded so disappointed in himself. I reached out to grab his hand.

“It’s okay, Trevor. Really. I didn’t mean to get so short with you today either. Just seems like we’re both having our own issues right now. But we should be each other’s lifelines, yeah? We can’t go taking everything out on one another.” Trevor nodded in agreement, looking up to meet my eyes. “I love you too.. I know things have been hard. Just please talk to me when you’re frustrated, okay?”

“I will.” I reached up to brush a few of his Sandy locks out of his face. “But you have to talk to me too,” he added, wanting me to know he was always there as well.

“You never really gave me a chance today.” I responded, watching the guilt return to his features as he swallowed thickly. “It’s okay,” I assured. “I don’t think I gave you much of a chance either.” I squeezed Trevor’s hand.

“Okay.. so.. so tell me what’s wrong.”

“School. I’m behind on this essay. My period just started.. and my boyfriend’s moody.” I made sure to tease, hoping to lighten the mood as a shy smile overtook my face. Trevor scoffed, but I could tell it wasn’t a mean one.

“Your turn.”

“Alright… well.. the Ducks suck,” always one to tell it like it is. “I feel like I can’t feel a single emotion for more than two seconds.. and my girlfriend’s on her period,” he paused, leaning forward with a cheeky smile. “And I’ve done nothing to help her all day.” I knew he was only trying to flatter me, but it worked. He pressed his lips to mine for a moment before pulling back.

I rested my hands on Trevor’s shoulders and leaned back onto the couch, our smiles widening as he climbed on top of me.

“We’re just a couple of moody adults then, aren’t we?” I teased, humming as Trevor reconnected our lips.

“Can we be horny adults too?” He asked as he pulled back, causing me to swat his shoulder with a laugh.

“That was cycle day one, bud. I’m afraid you missed it.”

“Aw, damn.. really?” Trevor sounded as bummed as I would have expected him to be. It made me laugh. “Can you reschedule? Talk to your body and let it know I’ll be back to try again tomorrow.”

I laughed once again, squeezing Trevor’s shoulders and shaking my head.

“That’s not how it works, hun.” I let him down easy, giggling at his playful frustration.

“Alright, well when’s the next one?”

“If it stays on schedule, you’ll be on the road for the next one.” I tried to hold in my laughter, knowing he wouldn’t be too thrilled about it.

“Seriously?” His voice raised, and I snickered. “I mean- a guy can’t even catch a break! You think you’ll be in the mood sometime in between?”

“Trevor,” I laughed at the way he spoke about it, so formal. “I’ll know when I know.”

“Nope. I have to know three to four business days in advance. Does anything speed up the process of getting you excited?” He was asking as if we haven’t done it a million times before.

“Shut up, Trevor.” I moved a hand from his shoulder to gently push his head. He laughed, that breathy awkward laugh that always made me smile. Trevor leaned in for another kiss, this one a bit more passionate than the first. He nipped at my bottom lip before I gently pressed a hand to his cheek, pushing his head back.

“I can do one minute in advance…”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#trevor zegras #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #nhl x reader #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine

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littlemisssquiggles · 11 days

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The Missed Potential of WISH

It’s funny.

Last year, I really wanted to watch the new Wish animated film from Disney.

While everyone else were hating on the art and animation style, I actually kind of liked it and was genuinely looking forward to possibly viewing it on the big screen.

Then the reviews came in. Needless to say, I didn’t watch Wish.

I remember a time when people used to complain about Disney making “too many love stories”. Then Disney stopped making love stories leading to films like Moana, Coco, Encanto and even Turning Red, which weren't bad.

Following the failure of Wish, the biggest complaint I’ve heard for that film is that “it probably would’ve been more successful if it were a love story”.

The last romance Disney had we’re the protagonist was a “black girl” was Tiana from The Princess and the Frog which was technically their last 2D animated feature film.

And don’t get me wrong, til this day, The Princess and the Frog still tracks. Second to Tangled, I still very much love TPATF and it's one of Disney's classics that definitely have the rewatchability.

That being said, Wish is the first Disney film I've seen where the missed potential of what its story was originally supposed to be (herego a love story between a human girl and shape-shifting star boy) versus what we actually got is more popular.

Aww Disney, what were you thinking?! How could you think a film where the main character, who is a PoC, the first "black girl" (well technically I think Asha is meant to be mixed) female lead/love interest that you've had since Tiana in The Princess and the Frog in 14 YEARS where she is actually human for all of the movie and gets to share a love story with a handsome "star boy" who can literally make all of her dreams come and think that that's NOT gonna make you money!

I haven't even watched Wish yet I've seen more artwork and fan-made animatics of Asha and Star Boy than anything from the actual film.

At this point, Disney should just take all of the original ideas they left on the chopping block for Wish and revise them into a future title which is an actual love story they could market from.

Or…as an audience, we can just wait for one of their competitors, like Dreamworks to smell the blood in the water like the sharks they are and capitalize on Disney’s latest flop by taking the ideas they didn’t use and coming up with something that could potentially usurp the popularity of Wish’s failure.

In the case of Dreamworks, they don’t even need to make a new star boy since, technically, they already have potential “star boy” they can use.

Remember Rise of the Guardians?

Hahaaaaa OF COURSE you do, since it gave us the original immortal boy internet heart throb (also ironically voiced by Chris Pine who played King Magnifico in Wish) ---Jack Frost.

I find it hilarious that another reason why folks are hating on Wish so much is because Disney could've given us another potential immortal boy heart throb "Star Boy" to finally usurp the chokehold that Jack Frost has had on our generation of weebs and artists for the past 12 years since RoTG first dropped.

We could've had it all.

But as I mentioned Rise of the Guardians, did you know that there is character in the original series it was based off of called Nightlight?

While technically not a “star boy”, Nightlight is the closest thing to one in an already established universe from a Dreamworks property and since this squiggle meister never misses a beat to push for continuation of Rise of Guardians, hear me out:

Imagine a Rise of the Guardian prequel-sequel about the character Nightlight and make it a love story.

(Because apparently there's a girl that Nightlight grows close to in his story called Katherine. It's just a friendship but needless to say, there is potential there).

I know it’s been 12 years since Rise of Guardians first dropped and I know I've be hollering for a sequel since 2012.

But c'mon, if there was ever a time for Dreamworks to capitalize on an RoTG sequel, it's now.

As Wish has proven, the internet is hungry for another handsome immortal boy with magical powers.

Dreamworks set the ball rolling with Jack Frost.

If Dreamworks were to revisit RoTG again, take Nightlight's story. Take his design and give him the "Jack Frost" treatment and make it a love story on top of that.

I'm not saying it will happen. Not even saying it could happen.

But if somehow thought becomes reality and something like this does actually happen, whoever does it will be rolling in dough.

This is just a longwinded way of me to say that somebody needs to bank on the concept of a star falling in love with a human and do it now since as the internet has shown, it's what the people want and what Wish failed to give.

~LMS (2024)

#squiggles talks: wish #wish #disney wish #rise of the guardians #jack frost #rotg #rotg nightlight

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cloveroctobers · 9 months

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MICHAEL BERZATTO — summer prompts 🍋

A/N: whew I’ve been debating if I wanted to get into writing for Michael again. For the works that I’ve already dropped for the bear I’ve gone back to rewatch the episodes to connect it to my work and episode 6 is tough! The entire show isn’t some walk in the park ofc but knowing what we know of Michael? They deliver it all in pieces but it’s enough. We’ll only ever get to see Michael through everyone else’s eyes since that’s all that’s left and it’s really messed up to think about. My summer prompts are supposed to be light hearted but I’m also a angst loving writer smh. Brace yourselves.

Originally had no intent of adding a prompt to the mix just like Richie’s but here’s what I’m using: “you’re gonna melt. Get in here.”

*GIF BELONGS TO: @darlingshane

WARNINGS: talks of living a traditional future, heavy mental-health fic, mentions of opioids, and a sprinkle of sexual content somewhere.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ 　༘♡ ⁀➷ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁎̩͙ ⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ 　༘♡ ⁀➷ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁎̩͙ ⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ 　༘♡ ⁀

[130 days BEFORE 7 fishes…]

His eyes are closed but he’s not asleep.

He hears the front door creak open but Michael knows not to get his hopes up. He’s curled up on the stoop, finding it as his second bed over the past three days. Between the stoop and the grass, it all depends on what feels more comfortable but he cannot take the cold shoulder from her.

Except he has no choice, he already attempted to barge his way through once before but the semi-automatic pistol that was pressed into his cheek from her uncle was a hint for Michael to take it easy.

It feels like something light touches his back, shaking him to open his eyes. He’s wrapped in a blanket of his as he shifts, one arm coming up to block the light from blinding him. After a moment, Michael realizes it’s her sock covered foot that shook him awake as she pulls her long leg back. He wonders if she’s off to the gym again and his clears his throat, ready to greet her this morning but her words beat him to it.

“You’re gonna melt. Get in here.” Her chocolate eyes are set out into the street, beyond the gate, already aware that her neighbors witnessed what Michael’s been up to these days.

Michael’s groaning as he sits up, eyes scanning the front yard and the neighbor’s house to the left of you. It’s a elderly man who’s a vet and Michael swore he’s nothing but a old racist with the way he always eyed how Michael was affectionate towards her in public, whether it was him kissing her goodbye before he headed down to Chicagoland, him spinning her back around into his arms when she was trying to leave for the gym at early hours, or just them hanging out in their backyard by the pizza oven he and Richie built together. The vet’s locking up his door with his gray Great Dane trained right beside him, it’s almost instant that his eyes peer right over to Michael’s.

He knows he raises a two-finger salute to the man to irritate him but surprisingly the man gives a sneer of a smile in his direction, shaking his head as he goes down the stairs.

That felt like an insult in itself.

“Old fart,” Michael states as watched him head down the street with his dog.

Michael turns back to the front door, which is ajar and she’s no longer standing in the door way.

She’s left it open for him.

Michael hurries to get to his feet now to enter the brick bungalow home. What used to be his home. Should still be his home. He closes the door shut behind him, keeping the rising heat of the morning where it belongs, his blanket slowly slipping from his shoulders as he tries to pick up on what’s changed in the weeks of his absence.

To the left into another room, there’s still the small table right against the wall that’s adjacent to three large windows in the living room. The console table is now painted a pale blue with small dainty looking pictures seated right on top, faux white peonies that resembles her favorite flowers (Michael’s brought home plenty of those for her to see in the morning) are placed on top of some books, followed by a large mirror that’s hung up on the wall.

Which leaves Michael to get a glimpse at himself and he almost gets angry at how pitiful he looks right now when he knows it’s his fault that he’s in this situation, that he put them there. So he rubs at his face, fingertips brushing over the slight stubble that he’s letting grow in since he hasn’t been in much of a mood to shave, mentally telling himself to get a grip so he can hopefully get back on track with her.

The love of his life.

Blowing out a breath, he sees the door to his right cracked open which was their bedroom and he wants nothing more than to hold her there in his arms again. Their bedroom held many nights of love and hurt but that’s not something that can be changed. It’s just the way it was.

Michael tears his eyes away from the door, already sensing that she wasn’t in there and walks through the living room to his left, pass the stairs tucked in the corner, along with another door behind the half-wall on the right which contained the laundry room and continued around the corner to the kitchen.

He’s standing in the middle of the hardwood floor as she has her back to him, hands leaning against the counter as she stares out the window in front of the kitchen sink. Michael’s already tossing his blanket on the arm of one of the kitchen chairs, feeling some sort of comfort in their updated black and white modern kitchen.

She doesn’t initiate the conversation and there’s clearly tension in her shoulders that Michael is itching to be behind her. Itching to get rid of what he’s caused but he knows it’s probably best that he doesn’t act on impulse just yet.

That doesn’t stop him from scraping the chair around so it’s facing her, plopping down and stretching his back as some sort of massage he needs for himself. Folding his arms with his legs spread out, he picks up on the temperature and says, “it could be colder in here you know?”

Michael always preferred colder weather compared to hot. If he was still in the house, rest assured this place would be below sixty-eight and he knows she had to have the thermostat on at least seventy-four.

She represented summer with a natural glow to her bronzed skin and dark lengthy wavy hair, full of sweet smiles that usually matched the sparkle in her brown eyes and tasted like peaches, with a touch that felt like summer sunrises, and a laugh that flowed like the gentle flutter of butterfly wings. She’s the light that Michael wanted to stay in, hold onto, and be part of.

He hated how his consistent winter blues began to disrupt the warmth of her being.

“…you can go back outside and deal with heat exhaustion or you can just be quiet.”

“I think we’ve done enough of this silent treatment, Lena.” Michael rasps, “just talk to me.”

“What good is talking going to do if we’re never on the same page anymore…or if ever?”

“What do you mean?”

“Michael, do you realize how much you showed your ass at my sister��s baby shower last month?” She whirls around, back pressed against the counter now, “Do you realize what you said to me?”

Michael clenched his eyes shut, scratching at his eyebrow and let out a shaky breath. “Yeah honey, I know. And I regretted it ever since.”

“Do you?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I fucking love you with all that I have, which ain’t much but it’s something… I just—I can’t always be everything to everyone all the time.” Michael says, feeling his eyes burn.

Lena feels her own eyes close, welling with tears as her brows furrow. Michael knows that look and he’s off his feet now, ready to walk around the small island that’s keeping him from her.

Lena’s hand goes out, stopping him from coming any closer to her, “uh uh. Don’t.”

With her eyes open, the tears spill from the corner of her eyes and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away this time. She sniffs as she chews on the back of her bottom lip for a bit, “so what do you want to do about this?”

“We talk it through.”

“For what? Closure?” She laughs humorlessly, “to ease your heart? although you already broke mine a couple of times. You can’t claim to love somebody and break their heart repeatedly, love shouldn’t have to hurt this damn bad. Love should feel better than this.”

It wasn’t all bad being with Michael. Sure they’ve only been together for a solid four years since Lena wouldn’t count the back and forth prior to that. Michael was dealing with a situationship before he took a full interest in Lena and she wasn’t going for it. Lena always wanted a love that mattered and she kept choosing Michael Ira Berzatto but lately it doesn’t feel reciprocated.

Michael drops his head, resting his arms against the island as he stretches in search of words, “…you’re right it shouldn’t and I’m sorry that nothing in life is ever easy. I want to be with you but sometimes it just doesn’t feel worth it and it’s not anything you’ve done it’s just how it feels to me.”

There’s a lump in Lena’s throat but she can appreciate the honesty this time around. She hears what her boyfriend is saying to her and she knows Michael loves her dearly but these moods he gets in along with the hurtful things he says and the disappearing acts isn’t healthy. So she had to kick him out (off the couch) to get a better sense of how to deal with this but the reality is she wasn’t. She closed him out even when Michael tried to come back the next day to locked doors since he always forgot his key, so she gave him a duffel bag full of his clothes to take with him to his mother’s for a little while.

Until he got the picture.

Lena didn’t necessarily want Michael to go back to his childhood home with Donna but she learned from Tiffany that’s where he’s mainly been. She didn’t think about where he would go but all she knew was that she needed him out. Michael didn’t want to put his shit on Richie or Tiffany but he also didn’t want to spend nights alone down at Chicagoland. He wanted to be in bed with the woman he felt truly connected to. Talking to her until sleep found them, holding her.

He wanted to be with his home.

It’s been a whole month and Michael was ready to do something about his relationship with Lena. She was not someone he wanted to lose but he couldn’t help the spurts that erupted in his brain.

“Michael you told me you didn’t want to marry me or have a family with me in front of my family. I thought that was something we were building towards…something we wanted to add to this life we share together. We got this house together so what’re we doing here if that’s off the table now?”

Michael’s envisioned a life with Lena the moment he expressed that he was in love with her, sitting parked along the curb one rainy Chicago night over milkshakes and pork chop sandwiches, He thought about kids that maybe looked a little like himself but mostly had Lena’s good qualities…the moment they entered the house together with their new set of keys. He thought about being brought to tears seeing Lena in a wedding dress being led down the aisle by her uncle/godfather.

Of course he wanted all of that with Lena…he just didn’t know if he deserved it. It was contradicting to think about if maybe that’s how his own father felt when he looked at Michael, Natalie, and Carmen but that didn’t erase the hurt he put them all through including his mother.

“I didn’t mean it. None of it. I was in my head, the bad parts you know?” Michael clenched his biceps with his hands as he struggled to get the words out, struggling to make it all make sense, the way he felt.

Lena deeply exhales, head dimming, that the brim of her hat is shielding her face that Michael just wants to yank it off. He didn’t like when Lena did that, hide her pretty face or her emotions but it was hypercritical because Michael’s been hiding a lot of the weight. He just didn’t want anyone to know that, however Lena knew this and she wasn’t just anyone. How could she not? She’s seen it all inside of this house and just simply being together, she just wanted Michael to trust her and let her in.

Fully.

“I get it…but we’re supposed to be a team. Together. I do love you and I want to support you through this but I can’t help you if you choose other methods that’ll push me away.”

“What? You think I’m some sort of project for you? Like I’m one of those horn dogs down at the gym that need some pointers? I don’t need fixing, Lenny.” The way he used her nickname felt like it was against her, condescending almost.

“That’s not what I’m saying to you at all.” Lena’s voice was always so soft like the melody of a harp and she always knew how to keep her tone leveled despite the disrespect she was feeling from the man she loved, “what I’m saying to you is I’m recognizing that you’re going through something. I’m your girl, what makes you think I wouldn’t? My dad…you know Michael. I’m not trying to fix you, I’m trying to love you through it all.”

Michael met Lena a month after her father passed tragically. She was outside of the restaurant, leaning against the building and Richie was the first to set eyes on her, telling Michael there was some, “babe,” just lingering outside.

That was a question mark in itself since Chicagoland had all sorts of people making themselves comfortable on the street. Michael didn’t expect to find someone like Lena there on the fresh touch of winter, warm smiles despite the frost beginning to hit.

“Hey, you’re gonna freeze out here, Mr.” Was the first thing she said to him over her shoulder, once she realized Michael’s been watching her while she paced, lightly tapping a harmonica against her fingertips.

She’s stunning to say the least as Michael breaks his stare to glance down at his short sleeve attire. He shrugs, “Nah, don’t worry about me. I take ice baths for fun, it’s kinda my thing. You on the other hand, look like you’re ready for Christmas.”

It’s only the beginning of October but Lena’s dressed like she’s prepared to spend a night out in Antarctica, wool hat with a pompom attached to it, huge gold hoops poking through her dark hair, a winter coat that was probably two sizes too big for her frame, and some furry boats. He laughed about it then and still laughs about it now, she was cute as hell not being used to Chicago’s weather and thinking some fifty to low forty degree weather bothered Michael.

A smile was still placed on her face that Michael couldn’t help but to mirror, “You caught me, I am actually looking for the chunky man with the white beard. He likes to wear red a lot.”

“Yeah, i think he’s in there. Probably enjoying a requested pastrami grilled cheese with a side of tomato soup and a spiked hot coco to go.”

“Sounds filling.”

Michael nods, “with my hands on it, you bet your doll face it’s something special. Now…what warm meal can I get you?”

“Oh you’re kind, I…can’t go in there.”

Michael blinks, “why not? I hear from some of my team you’ve been out here every Thursday around this time just watching. There’s nothing in there that’s gonna hurt ya, I promise.”

“…this was my dad’s place where he liked to have lunch. He was a musician and travelled a lot but he’s a Chicago native through and through. When I would spend summers with him, he’d take me here for lunch for the Penne Alla Vodka when I was a little girl…then I stopped spending summer’s with him.”

Michael listens carefully to this and asks, “what’s his name?”

“Lionel. Lionel Marsalis, he had a familiar relationship with the previous owner…which I’m assuming is probably your dad.”

Michael takes this information in and knows it rings a bell. He’s seen a black and white picture of a man that was standing beside his father and uncle Jimmy once before, holding a harmonica up to his lips while his father had his head thrown back in laughter. Uncle Jimmy was full of smiles, and the only one with his eyes set on the camera as the man in the middle played on with his eyes closed.

“Well in that case, we’re practically family already!” Michael holds out his hand for Lena to grasp, “And you’re no stranger, so you deserve a seat inside don’t you think? C’mon in, I’ll even let you get the best seat in the house…which is right next to mine.”

Lena thinks about it, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before she had to just take a chance and enter. However she had a man here who had some sort of a connection to her father just like she had to his. So she places a warm hand in his cold rough one, Michael giving her’s a squeeze followed by a grin as he began walking backwards, reaching out for the door to lead the way.

“And I don’t ever want you to stop loving me,” Michael exhales, “I just don’t want my issues to outshine what’s good. What we got, it’s good isn’t it?

“We can’t keep ignoring this though, don’t you get that? It’s causing us both more harm than good.” Lena says, “Did you get rid of them?”

Michael freezes in place, not expecting Lena to bring this up. He thought the focus would just be on him being reckless with his mouth during a bad time. He couldn’t tell you what got into him, popping in at his supposed sister-in-law’s baby shower, the numerous questions of when he was going to pop the question, have kids of his own with dear Lena, got to be all too much for the usual charismatic man.

And he unfortunately took it out on Lena.

As if right on cue, Michael feels the pinching and throbbing in the palm of his left hand. The scarred hand he carelessly injured last winter when he was having a low moment down at Chicagoland. That ultimately added to his routine of numbing pain by the quietness of a certain white horse pill.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t lie to me, Mike.”

Michael huffs, “I’m not, want to check my pockets?”

“Yeah, maybe I do.”

“Go for it then.”

Lena hesitates but Michael holds her stare. It was hurtful that their relationship resulted in this, a sense of trust almost lost now. Yet it was just as hurtful for Lena to figure it out and Michael not being comfortable enough to confide in her. She wanted him to sink into her especially when he was feeling low but Michael felt like it was selfish to do that. Selfish to dim all the light that Lena is by his darkness. He wasn’t flashy but his love for Lena was genuine and damn right he wanted the world to know. That pride was something ferocious! He was positive that the best thing he’s ever done was love Lena Marsalis and he wanted everyone to see just how happy they made each other so why would be even dare ruin it with his ongoing pain?

That didn’t make sense to him. What made sense was loving as hard as he could, tussling with the bear that was deep inside, against anything that wanted to challenge him.

He would never go down without a roar.

Michael’s dark eyes are focused only on Lena as she takes slow steps towards him. He’s standing up straight now, standing sideways from the island as Lena approaches him. She’s playing with her fingers and Michael knows that is a nervous habit, he can’t bring himself to be pissed that she’s doing this because his heart goes soft just as the thought of her alone.

She’s inhaling as she stands face to face with Michael, eyes trailing over his features as if she could ever forget what he looks like. When her hands brush against his waist, as if she could ever forget what he feels like, and when her fingertips just touch the outline of his Jean pockets she breaks.

A sob erupts over her frame and a balled up fist goes up to her mouth to almost slam it back down. However the damage was already done as she’s fighting to catch her breath through her sobs, and the furrow in Michael’s brows hits his face and he can’t help but to pull her hard against his chest. He’s holding Lena again and it’s easy for him to swallow her pain, the pain that he’s caused. The motion of him pulling her to him, knocks her hat off from her head and Michael’s replacing that barrier with his lips pressing to the top of her rosemary scented head.

Lena’s hands are balled up against his chest, nails almost gripping his shirt as she cries and Michael just squeezes the top of her shoulders with one hand and the other holds her by the back.

“We’re gonna be fine. I’m gonna be fine. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Michael chants with his lips on her forehead and Lena only clenches her eyes tighter.

Those apologies don’t come without the fear of wondering if this was truly it for ol’ Mikey and Lenny. However they don’t dwell on it when Lena places open mouthed kisses against his beating throat. A rumble forms at the action and Michael’s hands are sliding down her lower back as she’s looking at him now with fresh tears.

“Let’s go back to bed,” her voice is hushed as Michael is caressing her face now.

He nods because he feels it too before he smashes his lips right against hers, almost stealing the air right from her lungs.

And Lena let’s him.

He carries her like he’s done before the first time they entered this house together long ago, without the ring or the title but that didn’t matter. Their feelings for one another was just enough then.

Michael can’t keep his eyes off Lena as she lays on the bed, eyes low and reaching up to rest the palms of her hands flat against his chest where his heart beats. His hand rests right against her’s, keeping it tight in his hold so she knows that his heart can be completely in her hands if it’s still what she wants.

They hold eye contact, even when he’s peeling off her gym pants and he’s kissing her soft thighs and shea butter scented skin. His hand rests flat against the thin material that’s shielding him from one of her most sensitive parts and it’s pulsating just from his touch alone leaving her whining, which is music to his ears. He lays against her before his finger shifts the material to the side.

“I love you,” she says to him, “always.”

And that almost makes him want to cry as he slides inside, “I love you too, Lenny. So much.”

He groans while settling inside, trying to burn this feeling into his mind forever, how they almost melt together, welcoming what they’ve been missing. Their hands rise up along the bed, clasping onto each other as Michael begins to find rhythm against the downfall of what once was.

There’s a candle that sits on Lena’s night stand, burning in the distance as they release together. Equally there’s tears on both of their faces as Michael pulls back to get another good look at Lena. Her fingertips are brushing his tears and he leans down to kiss hers away.

‘I miss you.’ She thinks and Michael’s lips tells her just the same before he lays down beside her, pulling her to rest against his chest in the room they share.

And she’ll always miss Michael, especially when she crosses that bridge on her way to work, the same place she can’t bother to do her morning jog along anymore, and that same bridge where they spent many nights together, knees pressed together as he animatedly talks about some wild story she has to act like she’s hearing for the very first time but doesn’t mind, just happy to see a smile on his face.

It’s the same smile that matches the one she catches when they share a bed together. The last time he really had the chance to hold her before a harsh winter came to his childhood home without her by his side, with her hand caressing the scruff on his jaw, thigh tossed over his hip. Her fingers start trailing every detail of his face from the bridge of his wide nose, the crinkles by his dark eyes, and the smooth smile of teeth that splits onto his lips although their relationship has completely altered…the love would always still be there even if at a distance.

His eyes are closed but he’s not asleep.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ 　༘♡ ⁀➷ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁎̩͙ ⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ 　༘♡ ⁀➷ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁎̩͙ ⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ 　༘♡ ⁀

Continue along with my summer anthology prompts here.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #michael berzatto #mikey berzatto #Michael berzatto x black reader #michael berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto x reader #Mikey berzatto x black reader #jon bernthal #summer prompts #summer prompt #queued

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bronx-bomber87 · 5 months

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Happy Wednesday amazing fandom :) This is a very emotional episode for Lucy. Melissa’s acting in this one is outstanding. All I want to do most of this episode is hug her. And tie Chris to the back of a truck and just drive…Our lovely couple are apart in this episode but it’s such a good one. I have a lot of Chris rage in this one so prepare yourself haha Let’s get started.

4x17 Coding

We start off with Tamara making Lucy breakfast. I love her natural instinct to take care of Lucy in these moments. Just like Lucy did and still does for her. I adore their dynamic so very much. Tamara is protective when they talk about today. She doesn't understand why Lucy has to do this. Noting Rosalind is already serving four life sentences. She doesn’t like that the DA is making her dredge up painful memories just to slap on more charges. Lucy tells her it’s important to make sure she’s charged as an accessory to Caleb’s crimes. That Rosalind needs to be held accountable for that.

Most of her victims didn't make it...She is one of the lucky ones and doesn't want to waste that. Can see a strong sense of justice brewing deep in her soul as she explains this. I love how strong she is being for Tamara. Showing her what a bad ass she is. Modeling that for her. Tamara still has worry in her eyes and says she’s coming with. That she will have snacks and puppy videos at the ready. Be her emotional support human. Since her normal emotional support isn’t with her today. Love them.

Speaking of Lucy's ESH he’s at the hospital with Nolan. His car crash victim was a a rough one. I can’t watch the cold open for this one ever. I did it once and I bawled my eyes out. I can’t do stuff with kids after becoming an auntie. Her being sad the popsicles were gonna melt for her kid. That her husband would be mad about the car.

Makes me think of my niece, nephew and my sister. I just can’t handle it. But kudos to the writers for evoking that out of me. Glad John was there in her final moments but it was rough to watch. Tim comes up to him and notices Nolan is still in shock about it. Gah I would be too. I still can’t handle rewatching it let alone living it.

Tim is so wonderful and gives John some good perspective about it. That yeah it was rough and tragic no doubt about it. But that girl is going to get a new heart because of it. Tells him to try and focus on the silver lining of it all. Love this man. His empathy has grown leaps and bounds since we first met him. Was always there Lucy just needed to get it out of retirement when they met.

Lucy and Tamara arrive at the DA's office and we can see Lucy tense up. Just being in the office is setting her off already. She tells Tamara she’s going to the bathroom. She is so sweet and asks if she needs her come with? Lucy tells her no she handle that solo. We watch Lucy escape into a stairwell. Poor thing is in an absolute panic. Rubbing her DOD tattoo trying so hard to ground herself. I’ve been there where something just triggers your PTSD.

All you need is to find somewhere to expel all that energy surging through you. Because she is having an intense fight or flight moment. She is desperately trying to ground herself. Breaks my heart because I love her. Also because I’ve been her. I know this feeling she is experiencing. Nothing worse than getting engulfed in that sort of emotion. It's like the walls are closing in on you. It's what creates that flight instinct and you just need to get out just to breathe.

To be able to function at all. You can feel the panic rising in your throat and you’re drowning in it. Poor thing is getting flashes of what happened to her. It's taking her right back there. We watch her take a deep breath trying to reset her body. She clearly doesn’t want Tamara to see her like this. Ugh. This is just fuel for my hate fire later when I wanna bitch slap the clown. My heart hurts for her in this ep. It really does.

Tim is still at the hospital with Nolan. He continues his sweetness with John. Saying if he needs to see a counselor he can. Won’t be any charge to him. Look at our sweet empathetic Tim. I love it so much my heart is gonna burst. Their chat is interrupted by the hospital shutting down.

They find out quickly the man before them is ransoming the hospital to get his wife the heart. Wanting to steal it from that young girl for his wife instead. Threatens that he’ll shut down their entire network if they don’t do so. Tim looks pissed as hell. Which is kinda sexy tbh. They’re at his mercy it would seem...

Lopez comes charging in clearly ready for a fight. Asking for a status update on everything. They have the husband and wife separated atm. Her husband is being held in a conference room with an officer. Angela wants Tim to take a run at Jonah and sends Nolan to crack the wife. Hoping either the IT dept. will crack the hold on the network or they guys will get one of the spouses to fold.

Nolan is a swing and a miss with the wife. So we cut to Tim and Jonah. Tim looking particularly fine as he questions the husband. Has his hard stance going on trying to get this guy to crack. Telling him to dial back the threats that if he scales back now it won’t be as bad.

It’s here we see a man with nothing to lose. We watch Tim soften a little bit. It's when he says his wife is his entire life. Tim can relate to that and it shows as he’s listening. Doesn't last long though. He goes back into cop mode when Jonah starts threatening again. Saying soon enough something else will start with a new phase. It’s here we see a complete lock out of the system for the staff. Phase 2 has started.

We rejoin Lucy at the DA’s office. Chris has to take over since her normal person is out sick. He tried to reschedule but Lucy pushes against this. Saying they’re professionals and she can do this. I think she just wants it done and over with tbh. I hate how he questions her though. With this smug authority I cannot stand.

The more he pokes at the wound the more we see Lucy get agitated. Like a cornered animal being poked and prodded. Ready to lunge and attack at the slightest provocation. He is questioning everything about Caleb being connected to Rosalind. We watch her go back into fight or flight mode. As she examines the pictures and gets more flashes of her time in that horrible barrel.

Love her snapping at Chris when he says he’s just ‘Wants her to be ready.’ Schmuck.... He has this semi smile the entire time and I just wanna clean his clock so badly. He is beyond insensitive about this entire thing. Not reading her body language whatsoever. Seeing how tightly wound she is. I wish Tim could be there for her. He would be a much better rock for her. I hate Chris and this episode just ramps that right up.

Then comes the moment I was to punt Chris down the stairs. Like skipping a rock across the water. See how many flights I can get him to fall down with just my rage. He starts singing her barrel song like the dumbass he is. Showing the clueless SOB he truly is. Melissa crushes this scene though. The shaky way she delivers her lines. How she backs up every time Chris tries to approach her. Needing as much distance as she can get in that room.

The way she snapped at him earlier should've been evidence enough. The writing on the wall was there. He just needed to be extra sensitive. What does he do? Sing that song. It’s the way he says ‘Yeah it’s evidence.’ All cavalier. No clown it’s visual proof of the worst and most traumatic moment of her life. It is far more than just evidence you stupid schmuck. That was her death song. She thought it was over and she sang that as a way to comfort herself. It’s a deeply intimate and emotional thing for her. He’s treating it like it’s just part of the case.

We can see how the thought of him watching it is wrecking her. He keeps trying to close the gap and she keeps widening it. He is pushing her physical boundaries when she is screaming for him to stay away. Being the clueless oaf he is Chris continues to try. Saying he’s sorry, he’s in the DA office, blah blah blah. Meaningless words to her in this moment. Her saying ‘Yeah you said that already…’ She is disassociating in this moment. Trying to distance herself from him. Because he has wounded her and she needs time to regroup.

I hate that stupid semi smile on his face still. He’s truly not understanding what she needs in this moment. Makes my blood boil. Further proof he's not the guy for her. Tim can read every emotion. Know exactly what she needs. Then there is this putz. Shouldn't be allowed to breathe the same air as her at this point. Lucy has to practically beg him to give her a moment alone. Shaking and absolutely wrecked emotionally. I hate this so very much for her. She is in serious distress right now.

He's so selfish all he can thinking about is absolving his involvement. Not reading her emotional state whatsoever. Trying to push past her boundaries. She finally makes him go away. He storms off like a child. I'm shaking at how mad I am rewatching this. Especially with carrying PTSD myself. One of my trauma triggers is my physical boundaries being pushed. He had no damn right to impose himself on her like that. Chris has already proven he’s not the guy for her. This was the nail in his coffin IMO for that. What an absolute clown this man is….Melissa killing me softly with this scene.

We return to Tim and Nolan at the hospital. Someone has died due to Phase 2. So the hospital gives into his demands. Let’s his wife get the heart. I love how Tim wants to clean this guy's clock. Telling him to lose the attitude. Gah if he only knew what was going on at the DA’s office. His rage would be ten times what it is right now. Jonah restores the lights but only for the OR. Tells them he wants to be there for his wife’s surgery. To make sure they’re really doing it. This guy is something else. Tim re-cuffs him and they head to the OR together.

Lucy finds Chris and he jumps up and apologizes again. She cuts him off not having time for his BS. This isn't about you bub. She asks for him to get her the video. That he’s seen it and half the lawyers in this bidding have. But she hasn’t. Chris tells her it’s incredibly hard to watch. Lucy doesn’t care and tells him she needs to see it. My girl I just wanna hug her. Also I’m so damn proud of her for standing up for what she wants.

Chris having no leg to stand on agrees to show it to her. He has the gall to ask if he should stay? Obviously not you friggin stunad…Got me so angry I’m calling him an idiot in Italian. He really doesn’t get it. It’s ridiculous. After how she reacted earlier. How she's been this entire time you’d think she was going to say yes? The last thing she needs is your stupid ass there. She thanks him for the video. He doesn’t deserve that,

All he deserves is a swift kick to the nads. So he doesn't reproduce little clueless offspring….Whoever set up these shots did a good job btw. They are so well done. She’s psyching herself up to press play. The shot of her with her ring. We see it visible on her hand. The ring that saved her life. The ring Tim found and held onto until she was ready to have it back. Trying to ground herself before watching this. The way her hand shakes before she hits play gets me all in the feels.

Melissa continues to crush this scene. Watching her watch that video makes me wanna cry. It’s so hard to watch her witness the worst moment of her life. Once again another beautiful shot of Melissa above. The way she closes her eyes as she listens to herself sing, the way she touches her lips in an anxious manner, the ring close to her as she continues to listen. Having the object that saved her close to her as she watches. Like a safety blanket as she takes in the video.

You can see her whole body trembling as she tries to get through it. Hurts my damn heart to watch unfold. Serious props to Melissa for conveying so damn much in this short scene. Lucy trying to prove to herself she is strong by watching this. By going through with this whole thing at all. Trying to push down all the emotions eating away at her. Last ep all I did was laugh. This one all it does is hurt my heart. Hurt for her. It's so good though.

We return to the hospital. They’re wheeling Jonah’s wife back. Tim is super stern with him and I’m here for it. You tell him babe. Directs him not to mess with the surgeons or how they do their job. Is that understood? Jonah goes on to say how he never would since it’s saving his wife. The saddest part is next. The father of the daughter they’re stealing heart from comes after them.

Trying to kill his wife because if he does his daughter will live. The love a parent has for their kid is immense. How it it should be really. Sadly he gets arrested and Jonah continues on like it's nothing. Like he isn't destroying lives with this decision of his. They have to continue their march towards the OR despite this. Because Jonah still holds all the cards right now.

This next part gets me right in the feels. Nolan is able to get his wife to listen to the daughter. Her speech gets me teary every time. What a strong and amazing young woman to say what does. Did what Nolan couldn't do in the first place. Build rapport and get her to break. To change her mind on this whole thing. I think it's the fact that she forgives this woman that gets her to break. To let her know she forgives her even thoush she's taking away her second chance. This episode is all kinds of emotional in the best way.

His wife withdraws consent after that. Says she can’t do this anymore. Just like that it's over. Or so we we think. Jonah tries to turn off the ransomware but can’t. His partners have locked him out and want a ransom to unlock it. One the hospital cannot afford. Tim and John are escorting Jonah out now. He’s going on about needing to be there for his wife. Tim tells him he gets nothing since he let someone die. He’s going to prison for a murder charge.

John steps in and says if he can tell them who he’s working with they can help. It's possible Jonah can get bail so he can spend what time she has left with him. He lets them know who he was hired by. That it was their idea to hack the hospital. Saying they’d pay him to build the ransomware. He was an easy target due to his medical debt. He’s slowly figuring out they were just a means to an end. Tells them the IT dept. can track messages they sent him.

Cue to sexy OP Tim mmm. Tactical Tim is one of my favs. Also nice shots of his ass and I’m not complaining LOL The house is empty once they clear it. They're worried they've already left or haven't been here for awhile. Tim noting it has to be here. No way they could run that kind of software on a laptop. They decide check outdoors and Nolan see's transformer with a cable running from it.

Tim follows Nolan as he sees a massive cable running along the grass. They trace it to a container on the property. This is where the hackers are set up. Nolan tells one of them they can have a deal the other gets way more jail time. Just depends on who answers him first. One of the hackers easily gives up their partner in a flash. Tim's ‘Good answer’ cracks me up LOL I love him.

Lucy is in an emotional coma when Tamara and Chris check in on her. Really it's Tamara that says they should. Chris has no drive to check on her himself. He tried knocking once and gave up. Tamara is the one to push it and make them enter the room. She doesn't have time for Chris to grow some balls to check on her. Dipshit I mean Chris asks her if she watched it? Not a single brain cell in that head is there? How did you make it through law school sir? Seriously? Of course she watched it you idiot. I love Lucy for not testifying. This was so big for her to step away from. It was not an easy decision for her to make. Once again being the strong role model for Tamara.

I'm so proud of her for being courageous enough to watch that video. I get why she did. Everyone else had access to it. Seen it. I think it was part of her decision to move on. Her processing things was her realizing she had nothing to prove. Damn right you don’t. Screw Rosalind, screw Chris and this whole thing. Her saying she survived that felt like a call back to 2x12. Where Tim helped her see it wasn’t a failure but proof of what a survivor she is. His words sticking with her in this moment. I love it.

Tamara coming over and hugging her is the best part. She is so proud of Lucy for making this call. It was her's to make and a place she needed to get to on her own. If it had been up to Tamara she never would've gone through this at all. I love her telling her she is going to make dinner. They really are a make-shift family and it's so lovely to see. I just love them so much. How she instantly wants to take care of Lucy. Makes my heart happy in an ep where all I wanted to do was murder Chris.

How their relationship survived this episode I couldn’t tell you. His ass deserved to be dumped so very hard. Like a cat with nine lives. He keeps on ticking. When all he deserved was to be shut out of her life for good. Also of course Chris doesn’t cook... Chalk another one up for the clown. I seriously have zero idea what she sees in him. Other than just being lonely and wanting companionship. So ends this episode. I wanna say I’m sorry for all my Chris rage but I’m really not LOL

~~~

Side notes-non Chenford

James and Nyla be cute. I love them. That be it.

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ekingston · 7 months

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Apart from show canon, at which point did u think it was too late for lena's immediate forgiveness to kara's identity reveal

oh boy. anon, here is where i come clean about my shoddy recollection of canon’s chronology. i’ve done so many fragmented rewatches and skipping back and forth—there’s a reason i rarely dabble with canon-adjacent stuff! and that even when i do, i create worlds where Lena figures it out herself!

second road bump to answering this question is that i have a LOT of feelings about how things played out on the show, and most of them are incongruent with the tone of sgcw. i understand their narrative reasons for keeping the secret from Lena for so long! but the execution is so, so terrible! ignoring large swathes of canon and replacing them with my own is the only way i’m able to enjoy at least the last tiny handful of seasons!

here is where i spend an hour procrastinating from my WIPs, while not successfully answering your question at all:

to be perfectly clear: i adore most parts of canon Kara. and i think i may be hard on her in ways i wouldn't be if i didn’t relate to her so much. i think her backstory is extremely compelling and i admire her ability to hold on to her kindness and hope and joy even after losing everything that was important to her, even when she’s tired and lonely and mad.

BUT. a healthy Lena—one who we were made to believe was finally freeing herself from Lex and Lillian, rising above the coping mechanisms she’d developed as an unwanted and emotionally neglected child? i don’t think that Lena would (should?) have forgiven canon Kara at all.

after the rift, canon Kara flitted between telling Lena she’d lied to her ‘to protect you’ to ‘one person who sees me only as Kara’ to ‘your last name’ to ‘didn’t want to lose you’ until she literally told Lena she was on her own, and she’d treat her like any other villain until Lena repented, even rejecting her apology at first, as if Kara’s own decisions had played no part in Lena’s downward spiral at all.

the Kara Lena would have forgiven is the much more cohesive and coherent Kara brought to us by our talented fix-it writers: a Kara who is willing to let herself be vulnerable and to second-guess her motivations, one who is able to put together a proper apology and actually listen to Lena's own.

but, okay, lets table all of that. this is me trying really, really hard to entertain canon:

Kara and Lena’s friendship became painfully lopsided by season 3. i think that was, if i recall correctly, when the super-friends decided to trust Lena enough to regularly ask her for assistance—but not enough to let her be part of their in-group; it’s where they left Lena in the dark about the fact that her best friend had come close to plunging to her death right in front of Lena's eyes, and was actively still fighting for her life; where they tricked Lena into having an extremely personal conversation with J’onn, while he was wearing Kara’s features, only to make belly-laughing fun of her about it later.

and even then, honestly, it might already have been too late. what about the aftermath of Jack’s death? was that season 2? Jack was Lena’s ex-everything, someone who genuinely loved her, who saw her through the fallout of Lex’s arrest. he was one of her last remaining friends, and Lena pressed the button to let him die in order to save Supergirl’s life. how would Lena knowing that Kara went through that with her, knowing Lena had chosen to save the life of her favorite person in addition to National City’s hero, have changed the way she felt about that horrible situation? that’s where that extremely wonderful heart-to-heart on the L-Corp couch happened, right? Kara swore she’d always be Lena’s friend—while keeping silent about the fact that she was there when Jack drew his last breath, that she had witnessed their final moments.

so—i really can’t tell you anon, i’m so sorry. the 100th episode already fabricated reasons why Kara couldn’t possibly come clean to Lena back when she made the conscious decision to be her friend (and not in a ‘keep your enemies close’ kind of way!), and i’m beginning to think that was the only moment Kara could have told Lena that would have kept her conscience completely clear. Kara should have made it part of her decision—either she was going to be Lena’s friend and give her the same trust Lena was giving her, or she would keep things professional, and keep her identity a secret from her.

Kara tried to do both, and if i really think about it, i don’t believe that was ever fair.

#i could have kept going anon #drifting further & further away from your original question all the while #i think it would have helped it supergirlcw would have figured out at one point what kind of show they wanted to be #and possibly maybe also perhaps if they'd managed to make up their mind about who these characters were and what they wanted? idk #is it lighthearted and fun? then lena knew all along and kara half-suspects but it's still hard to come out and actually say it #is it dramatic? maybe lena still knows but she's convinced kara not telling her means she's just another luthor AND MAYBE SHE IS #is lena just another evil luthor? so kara was right keeping her secret from her! bring on the (actual proper) villain arc!#etc etc ad nauseam & ad infinitum #thank you for letting me get this out i guess anon lmao #perhaps it is A Day #ask me things!#anonymous

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barbie-nightmare-house · 1 month

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I only got into true detective about a month ago and I'm happy to find people in the same boat; if you don't mind could you share some of the deeper thoughts you've had about the show? Your interpretations/headcanons?

Fuck yes I can, goddamn I'm so excited

First, I think the first and fourth seasons are perfect reflections of one another. If you haven't watched S4, many apologies for spoilers. I highly suggest sucking it through a straw.

I’ve been reading the book Dancing in the Flames: The Dark Goddess in the Transformation of Consciousness by Marion Woodman and Elinor Dickson

In which, the philosophical concepts of self and universal consciousness are analyzed through the framework of the divine masculine and divine feminine. I believe this plays into the themes of both Season 1 and Season 4 of True Detective.

Nic Pizzolatto has expressed that Marty and Rust were written as men he could easily see himself becoming (How I Wrote True Detective - Behind the Curtain, particularly his statement at 3:20), which in essence, is an exploration of how masculinity manifests in different contexts. These are men whose flaws render them incapable of living 'normal' lives, yet enable them to demonstrate bravery in situations where most would not.

There is a lot of gendered discourse around Season 4 that I won't get into. Ultimately, I think it does a wonderful job of presenting the flip-side of the unbalanced masculinity in Season 1 by showing us unbalanced femininity. The women centered in Night Country are imperfect; they struggle with close relationships, with demonstrating faithfulness in relationships, with maternalistic nurturing, with regard for victims, etc.

So, both seasons together really solidified my understanding of the overall story. I'll be using balance, gender, time, and death as the themes here.

There are a few lines in Dancing in the Flames that stuck out to me:

“The psyche, as a self-regulating system, yin and yang in perfect balance, is a vision that historically has yet to be realized. […] In history, as in marriage, or in the individual, when a balance becomes stagnant, one or other of the energies moves out to new adventures. The spurt forces the complimentary energy to move also, until a new balance is found. So the spiral moves.”

It's kind of funny that I picked up this book right after my second rewatch of season 4. I'm big on synchronicities, just seeing shit that plainly ain't there. But here we go,

The imagery presented in Season 1 of True Detective appears to be inspired by some iteration of Cernunnos, a Celtic God of fertility, power, & blessings/weath; "god of beasts and wild places." Further, Cernunnos is the God of the Winter Solstice; the Dark Months (re: the significance of Season 4 Executive producer Mari-Jo Winkler saying, “Let’s look at season one of ‘True Detective.’ Hot, sweaty, male. We wanted to do [the] complete opposite. Dark, Ice, Cold.” in the True Detective: Night Country Podcast). "Cernunnos is the antlered god, part man and part stag. He is born on the darkest day of the year, winter solstice, and marries the goddess of spring, Beltane. About six months later, on summer solstice, he dies.

Among pagans, he is considered the god of fertility, animals, and wealth, and the underworld—sometimes he carries a purse filled with coin, for wealth. This connection to wealth and gold coins is found in the myth about Pluto (Hades), the god of the underworld, from which all wealth comes. Indeed abundance comes from what is deep in the earth and deep in our own psyche.

He is born on winter solstice and dies on summer solstice. This suggests his association with the rise of energy, augmentation, the increasing of light, lengthening of the day and peak experiences. He is a god associated with the potency and power of male sexuality, but not its completeness. Falling on the ground, broken, limp, is just as important an experience of the male psyche as standing erect. Also, the fact that he dies at the peak of light, the second half of the seasonal cycle brings, means that he does not hold the introspective qualities that the harvest brings and the completion of the diminishing of light.

Perhaps Cernunnos is balanced somewhat by his marriage to the goddess of Beltane. She is celebrated in a time when blessing comes from rubbing yourself with the dew of early May morning to soak in the blessing of Spring. Helen Chantler, the designer of our company, remembers watching the horned man in the forest on her BBC television growing up. It was an image that conveyed guardianship and the protector of the forest. Yet this image of the antlered man, so powerfully associated with Celtic myth and lore, has been widely depicted and enacted across indigenous cultures for thousands, or perhaps tens of thousands of years. Iconography of an antlered man, standing, have been found in French Paleolithic cave paintings" (reference).

Full disclosure, I am not learned in Celtic myth or any such topic. I don't know if this was the intended reference material for Season 1's Big Bad Spookiness, but I think thematically, this explains the unexplained in both S1 and S2.

I randomly picked up this book I hadn't yet read, which I bought at random in a used bookstore probably 5 years ago, flipped through, and landed on this picture.

Synchronicities dawg.

Woodman and Dickson have this to say:

"This is Cernunnos, Lord of the Animals. It is Shiva, or Dionysus archetypal energies long repressed by Christianity. Repression turned the Horned God into the Horned Devil, the root of all evil. [...] The Horned Devil is energy that is so repressed and cut off from the earth that it is best symbolized by Mephistopheles, the light and airy creature that floats above the earth. The Horned Devil is the disembodied spirit that manipulates, usurping situations for the gratification of its instinctual desires for domination-- sexual or otherwise. The Horned God, as Gary Lingen points out '...is a positive model for male power--free from the patriarchy and all other authoritative models--as he grows and passes through his changes during the wheel of the year, he remains in relationship to and not separate from the prime life and nurturing force--the Goddess.'

The Horned God, moreover, is an archetypal figure quite unlike most masculine images as they appear in culture. He is difficult to understand because he does not fit into any of the expected stereotypes, neither those of the "macho" male nor the reverse-images of those who deliberately seek effeminacy. He is gentle, tender and comforting, but he is also the Hunter. He is the Dying God--but his death is always in service of the life force. He is untamed sexuality--but sexuality as a deep, holy, connecting power. He is the power of feeling, and the image of what men could be if they were liberated from the constraints of patriarchal culture."

It's possible that Pizzolatto merely modeled the Big Bad Spooky Scary in Season 1 with paganistic imagery for fearmongering purposes, but I choose to believe that Childress, the Tuttles, and unnamed counterparts were worshippers of some bastardized version of Cernunnos.

It is indicated many times in both S1 and S2 that symbology associated with the murders is 'old', 'archaic', and looks like cave drawings. I believe the nature of the belief system associated with the Big Bad is transactional, given that it precedes Semitic religions.

What do you pray for when your primary goal is to live another day? You pray for abundant harvest, you pray for fertility, you pray for the sun to return.

What do you pray for when society becomes more collective? You pray for a bigger hut than the next guy, you pray for blessings.

What do you pray for when buildings scrape the sky? You pray for wealth, you pray for power.

I think the Tuttles and their counterparts belonged to a small group of worshippers who retained archaic beliefs and practices, which they attributed to the wealth or power their group amassed. Thus, they continued worshipping.

However, we only see the masculine aspects of this worship in Season 1. We see the vulnerable (women and children) victimized by physically and/or socially powerful men. We see this vulnerability overpowered through ritualistic abuses and murders, which demonstrates that the Big Bad have devolved to, or perhaps have always been, negligent of the inherent role of the divine feminine (Beltane, in this case, as the counterpart to Cernunnos). Thus, the Tuttles represent unbalanced masculinity, where they seek to overpower others in the name of worship. In reality, they are simply indulging in animalistic, individual desires. Truly, they may be neglecting and/or attempting to dominate the divine feminine out of innate fear.

"What is the way to appease the Great Mother, to keep her as Protectress and prevent her wrathful Vengeance? Give her what she demands-- blood! And likewise, invent a precise way to do it-- ritual! Thus, the first great ritual was a ritual of blood sacrifice, offered to the Great Mother-- to Mother Nature-- in a bartered attempt to quench her desire for blood. [...] Blood is indeed bodily life, and if you want to purchase life, you purchase it with blood. So goes paleologic; like magic, it works in partial truths; and like magic, since it is unable to grasp higher perspectives or wider contexts, it arrives at barbaric conclusions." - Marie-Louise Von Franz, Golden Ass of Apuleius: The Liberation of the Feminine in Man

Whatever, I won't get distracted by analyzing the psyche of side character antagonists. I won't! What I'm trying to say is:

They're worshipping an old religion, which requires blood sacrifice. This blood may be literal (murder), or symbolic (sexually abusing the innocent, i.e. symbolic blood of menstruation or deflowering).

As with all things, there is no inherent evil in worship, but this manner of worship represents a stark lack of balance. These are not praying men-- these are men attempting to manipulate nature, life/death, and femininity to their egoistic desires. Thus, they create imbalance.

This imbalance, in True Detective, is a microcosm representing greater imbalances of energy. Imbalance in society, in the universe, and in individuals. We are shown this lack of balance through complex characters.

Two characters, specifically, show us the energy required to correct universal balance; Rustin Cohle and Evangeline Siqiññaatchiaq Navarro.

I also won't get into the Messiah archetypes of these characters. I won't (I probably will).

This fucking long form analysis is going to be a bitch to read and is also a bitch to write, I'm struggling to collect my thoughts well enough to not communicate like we're playing Word Associations.

Okay. So. Rust = Divine Masculine. Evangeline = Divine Feminine. Hold onto that for later.

In the Southern states of America, such as Louisiana where the Tuttles have historical roots, power and wealth are generally understood as God’s Blessings. The Christian God. Which explains why the Tuttles used Christianity as a mask for their true beliefs and practices. Additionally, the immutable power of organized religion allowed the Tuttles and their associates access to vulnerable individuals to prey upon.

While the Tuttles practiced their underlying beliefs in secret, I believe Errol Childress’s murder of Dora Lange indicated his sentiments of rejection from his bloodline. Where the proper Tuttles secured social and financial power, Errol was essentially a grunt, despite enabling and participating in the ritualistic abuse and murder. He might have developed a coping mechanism of believing himself a profit. Frustrated that in the ‘real world’ the power and virility he exercised in private was not respected, he made a ‘show’ of Dora Lange’s murder. This could have been motivated by the following: - A rejection of the Tuttles secretiveness. We should be proud of our practices. Look, we’re untouchable. I won’t live in the shadows

A warning or punishment of the Tuttles. By displaying his practices proudly through Dora Lange’s presentation, Errol Childress places the Tuttles at risk for exposure.

A personal demonstration of elevated dedication to his ‘god’, i.e., an attempt to prove he is more faithful than those who practice in secret. Errol was showing the world his power.

I believe the Tuttle’s practice of murdering and abusing innocents in the name of a, conceivably, pagan god, is due to a bastardized interpretation of the god’s power and purpose. If we consider that Cernunnos alone is the divine masculine, incomplete/imbalanced without the feminine counterpart, we see the space where men may lean into this lack of balance as an opportunity to enforce patriarchal dominance over the divine feminine. By abusing the divine feminine (women and children), the interpretation of Cernunnos becomes a rat-race of man’s most basic pursuits; power, wealth, and death. They lord over the divine feminine by sacrificing its counterparts (women and children) to Cernunnos. In a patriarchal interpretation (cisgender, heterosexual) of nature, men cannot create as women can, so the most they can achieve in the way of god power is taking life.

Then comes the spiral. In the first season, it appeared to be representative of the Nietzschean circular time theme. Given the events of Season 4 as a continuation of the spiral imagery, I have deduced that the S1 spiral is another perversion of old beliefs that the Tuttles have bastardized.

Rather than being a symbol of Cernunnos (real quick: peep Cernunnos vs. Carcosa?? 'He who eats time?' and absolutely chooooke on this interpretation) I believe the spiral represents his ‘wife’ or divine feminine counterpart– Spring. Or rather, Life. And thus, She is Time itself. The Tuttles pray to something that, again, EATS TIME. I'm sorry I keep saying this, but they only worship half of nature. It's a perversion. It's wrong. It's empty. S4 gives us the other half of the story.

In Season 4, the supernatural force, or ‘god’ is referred to with feminine pronouns: ‘She is awake, she is coming, she is here’. More on this later, but I think the spiral represents a larger concept than Cernunnos/Carcosa; Balance. Eternity. The Universe. I believed initially that the spiral was jagged, as opposed to the ‘perfect’ golden ratio, because it would have been carved or drawn with rudimentary objects by prehistoric humans. Looking at the galaxy in which earth exists (and others like it)-- I mean :/ I'm no science guy, but... come on now.

(cr. NASA / STScI)

(cr. Gabriel Pérez Díaz, SMM (IAC).)

(cr. Fibbonacci.com)

COME ON NOW.

Back to Cernunnos, he is the god of Darkness, and dies when Spring comes. However, he and his divine feminine counterpart never cease existing. They are married; opposite sides of a coin, constantly flipping; inextricably bonded. They are the same thing—and separate—and the same; flat time. (Side note: also found out the universe itself is 'flat' to our perception. I'm absolutely wrecked by this)

As Rust says, “Time created Death to grow the things it would kill.” So, from hereon, I will refer to Cernunnos’s counterpart, represented by the spiral symbol, as Time.

She is the spring, where life grows. In Season 4, we may assume that she eats in the winter. Despite the spooky Big Bad, overcoming evil, vibe of Season 4, it’s important to note that there is no inherent good or evil in the universe. There's just balance. While Navarro refers to the supernatural force as a “curse” that takes her people one by one, we must acknowledge that Death is the certainty of Life. Both states are suspended within time. Circular. Cyclical. Spinning. A spiral.

Ennis is a land of extremes, where Time and Existence appear to be a more ancient/raw form (prehistoric ice and such, significance of magnetic poles, idk I'm not a science guy).

As Time’s presence in Ennis is generally acknowledged by the indigenous people, it could stand that the descendants of those who existed on this land in prehistoric times would have a more innate connection to Time. On that land, where Time has more power, occurrences such as “the dead don’t stay dead” implicates that the laws of humanity are bent in favor of the unknowable reality of time.

Whereas the Tuttle’s represent unbalanced patriarchal masculinity, i.e., acknowledging ‘old gods’ and worshiping them for self-serving gain, demonstrated by their social powers and abuses– the Iñupiaq people exhibit instinctual balance and reverence for the old ways.

The Tuttles and counterparts mark victims with the spiral, almost as if to attract the acknowledgement of their god, whereas the Iñupiaq people mark the spiral as a warning of her presence. It is stated that ‘she’ exists where the ice is thin over the sea. To me, this indicates that ‘she’ is somewhat synonymous with the sea, or the ground beneath it, as, in the prehistoric time (where her power would be more observable) the water level would've been lower (idk, I'm not a science guy). Basically, I think ‘she is awake’ indicates that she has gone dormant/is hibernating under the ice.

Thus, Time calls the Iñupiaq to areas of thin ice in order to ‘eat’ them. This practice is representative of a balance. She is existence in perfect balance. She is life and death. In her presence, time becomes nonlinear (i.e., the visions experienced by the characters in S4). Time becomes a flat circle.

The Tuttles presence in Ennis via the mine has disrupted the circle. The softening of permafrost due to the mine's pollution has both awoken her, and disrupted the balance of her domain. Life and Death. Rather than taking her justified ‘fill’ of the dead, pollution has caused an unnatural rise in deaths, exampled by the stillbirths. The Iñupiaq stillbirths represent the inherent interruption of natural course. Thus, she is not just awoken, but angered. She's PISSED.

This explains why the events in Season 4 unfold as they do. In the last episode, an Iñupiaq auntie explains that ‘she (Time)’ was responsible for taking the Tsalal men or releasing them. She chose to take them, and ‘eat their fucking dreams’.

This statement reminded me of the theme of dreaming in Season 1. A theoretical physicist, Fred Alan Wolf, claims that “dreaming is vital to our survival as a species and a necessary ‘learning laboratory’ wherein the self and the universe evolve. In brief, matter evolves through dreams.” In the book Dancing in the Flames: The Dark Goddess in the Transformation of Divine Consciousness, “the unknowable mystery we sometimes call God” can only be understood through finding individual and communal balance, which is historically and presently impossible due to patriarchal systems.

The significance of this, I think, is the overarching theme in both seasons: Time as an insurmountable force that weighs on the characters. Past, present, future are flattened and defined by suffering. We see the mostly faceless antagonists attempt to gain unnatural power over time– in Season 1, the Tuttles (and their counterparts) actions implicate a desire of procuring power and wealth through sacrificing innocent youth (balanced time), and in Season 4, they are searching for a microorganism that could provide insight into immortality, or at least further their material wealth and power– ultimately creating the imbalance of essential, unknowable truths: Time, Life, Death, and Dreaming. We also see the protagonists struggle under the weight of Time in a more intimate, consumable capacity.

The imbalance of energies is a human fault. This human fault, likely, has no true power in the universe. It is simply a disruptor, which will ultimately be self-corrected, as “the spiral moves.”

We see this correction in the form of an unlikely savior. In Season 1, this is Rust. In season 4, this is Navarro. They are both plagued with an undefined but obviously overwhelming burden of Time, and an innate connection to the unknowable.

While neither understands how or why, they have been called to a life which seems to deny human nature. Isolation, reluctant power (being a fuckin cop), and the responsibility of bearing witness to the soul-crushing examples of human failure. However, their actions and insight are ultimately the antithesis of the antagonists perversions of Life and Death. Both Rust and Navarro, though somewhat unwillingly, are called on to correct Time.

Their circular patterns become enlightened. They prevail. They balance the divine masculine and divine feminine.

I think this is most apparent in Navarro’s character arc. Particularly her statements, and the many examples of her being ‘called’ by Time. Her displacement from the community of people who share her blood, and thus her connection to the land, is significant because it has potentially inspired her to become a protector. With the social power of law enforcement, and the dual-perspective of those who perpetuate disbalance of time (cops, who ultimately are tools for high-level antagonists like the Tuttles), and those who keep it (the indigenous people), she is the perfect blend of energies to correct the balance. I think she was beckoned back to the land by Time specifically, (evidenced by her visions, like “listen”), with divine purpose. Her Inupiaq name meaning the sun’s return from darkness in itself is evidence of that. Her compassion for Annie K. has greater implications on the story than our understanding of justice.

If she was called to the land by Time, presented with the murder of Annie K. as motivation to expose Tsalal, thus exposing the mine, and ultimately the Tuttles, Navarro restores the balance of Life and Death, and ultimately Time, to the land. Her personal journey reflects the initial disbalance, the unknowable forces at play, and ultimately the correction of both. She encompasses universal truths.

God calls from places where the ice is thin.

God is talking to Evangeline directly.

In the spiritual statements that tell Evangeline to “listen”, as well as the many visions in which an individual (conceivably possessed by spiritual forces) points at her, God orders her to bear witness, which is also the purpose that Rust Cohle assigned to his existence in Season 1.

Like Moses and the burning FUCKING bush, Evangeline is plagued with visions; and is called to carry the burden of guiding others into the light.

As Rust said in the first season, “it’s the oldest story there is. Light vs. Dark” and “if you ask me, light is winning.”

Okay, that's all I have for right now. Sorry for using this as my excuse to go apeshit in the way I've been meaning to for weeks. If you'd like specific character headcanons or anything, let me know! Rust Cohle rents an apartment in my head and it fucking stinks in there.

#hope this answers your question lol #asks #true detective #true detective season 1 #true detective season 4 #true detective night country #rust cohle #rustin cohle #evangeline navarro

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