Too Little Too Late (1/?)

Pumpkin Patch {Frankie Morales x Reader}

Word count: 900

Warnings: none

Rating: PG

Summary: You and Frankie spend the day at the pumpkin patch looking for pumpkins to bring home.

Frankie gives your hand a gentle squeeze, continuing to walk down the path through the pumpkin patch. The leaves and hay crunched beneath your boots, the scent of fall lingering in the air.

Frankie came to a halt in front of one of the pumpkins, releasing your hand and kneeling down to get a better look at it. You kneel next to him, studying the massive pumpkin.

“This one looks nice,” Frankie says, gently taking the pumpkin and rotating it to check for any blemishes to the surface. You chuckle under your breath and shake your head, amused with his antics.

“Frankie, it’s ginormous. How are we even going to bring that back to the truck?”

He pauses for a moment, his head coming up to survey the small farm you were at to pick fresh pumpkins. He nudges your shoulder and cracks a grin, pointing at a wheelbarrow propped against the fence hatched around the pumpkin patch.

“You can’t be serious,” you say incredulously. Frankie’s smile never falters as he stands up, dusting the dirt from his pants and offering his hand to help you up. You take it reluctantly, shaking your head at him.

“Of course I’m serious,” he says cheekily. You roll your eyes as he laces his hand with yours and excitedly darts over to the wheelbarrow, his face lit up in a smile as he drags you along with him.

You can’t bring yourself to be annoyed when he looks so incandescently happy. He bunches up his patterned woolen green sweater around his forearms, taking a hold of the wheelbarrow and beginning to wheel it towards his pumpkin.

Suddenly he stops and turns around to face you, a smug expression painting his face. You freeze in your tracks, arching an eyebrow at Frankie.

“What now?” You ask suspiciously, eyeing him up and down.

“C’mere,” he says, letting go of the wheelbarrow and beckoning you over. You cautiously make your way over to him, stopping when you’re stood directly in front of where he’s at.

“Ok, what did you nee—EEED!” you exclaim, shrieking as Frankie picks you up and slings you over his shoulder carelessly, his laughter booming as he places you in the wheelbarrow. You hit his chest playfully when he finally sets you down, earning an expression of mock-hurt from him.

“Ow!” He says teasingly, only earning an amused huff from you.

“You goofball,” you mutter to him, his grin only growing larger at your words.

He chuckles a little bit as he starts moving the wheelbarrow, purposely swiveling it around erratically just to mess with you. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, earning another fit of laughter from Frankie. You shake your head and let a smile cross your face, leaning back to give Frankie a peck on the cheek. His smile softens as he slows and eventually stops the wheelbarrow, patting your back as a signal to step out.

He helps you out of the wheelbarrow, taking your hand in his and gently assisting you in stepping out.

“Do you need any help lifting that thing up?” You ask as Frankie crouches to be level with the massive pumpkin. He hums under his breath, shifting the pumpkin in his hands to test the weight.

“I think I’ve got it, sweetheart,” he decides, taking hold of the pumpkin and lifting it from the ground, grunting at the weight.

“You sure?” You ask skeptically, watching him struggle to lift the gigantic pumpkin. He forces a smile and nods curtly, heaving as he finally manages to get up. He groans and turns towards the wheelbarrow, placing the pumpkin inside of it far more carelessley than he should have. You peer down and inspect it for bruises, smiling and clapping his back when you see there are none.

“You did it.”

“That… was harder than it looks,” Frankie admits, his breathing labored and his hands placed firmly on his hips.

“It looked pretty hard,” you say cheekily.

He rolls his eyes at you and grabs the handles of the wheelbarrow, swiveling it through the hay path and back to the car. You scuttle along beside him, wordlessly enjoying the quality time you get to spend with him. You loop your arm with his, leaning against him slightly as the two of you walk along the hay. Any time with Frankie is a good time, to you at least.

He stops the wheelbarrow in front of the truck, sighing when he realizes he’s going to have to lift the pumpkin into the trunk. He turns to you with a sheepish smile, gesturing to the massive pumpkin.

“Could you maybe help me out this time, honey?” He asks sweetly. You laugh a little and nod, stepping forward to help him hoist the pumpkin into the trunk.

He was right when he said the pumpkin was incredibly heavy. You struggled to lift it even with Frankie bearing most of the weight, grunting as you both hoisted it into the back of the truck. You groan when it’s finally secured, rubbing your upper arms.

“Guess we both got a workout in today, eh?” He says jokingly, leaning against the trunk of the car with his arms folded. You smile and close your eyes, shaking your head.

“I love you,” you say simply, opening your eyes to look up at him. His smile is soft as his hand comes up to cup your cheek, adoration written all across his face.

“I love you too,” he whispers tenderly, his lips meeting yours. His kiss is gentle and loving, his lips soft as they move against yours.

You couldn’t think of a single place you would rather be.

Hello everyone.

I think we’re all aware of how much of a hold Rough Day by has on the Din/Pedro fandom. It’s had countless pieces of fanart, recommendations, fan videos, and so on. It’s everywhere. You can’t go on any social media platform without seeing it. It’s basically its own fandom at this point; some fans are so loyal to the fic that they claim that it’s the “best” of Din fics and compare other people’s writing to it.

And now, people are comparing my art to it.

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Nemesis (Marcus Moreno x reader)

Summary: When you end up drugged and unable to look out for yourself, you show up on the doorstep of your nemesis, goody two shoes Marcus Moreno, hoping that he’ll take you in.

Rating: I’d say this i pretty safe for all.

Word count: ~ 1900 (more of a ficlet than a fic, really)

Warnings: None.

Notes: There has been no beta for this so all mistakes are my own. If you spot any, feel free to point them out.

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Too little too late (6/?)

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x reader, (ex)Steve Rogers x reader

Plot: Steve has a tough conversation with Bucky.

Catch up here

My work

Requests are open

Prompt list one

Prompt list two

Character/Actor list

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A list of resources to help Free Palestine

the israeli government is threatening further annexation of palestinian land. here’s how you can help.

Petition links-

calling on the us state department + department of defense to demand an end to israel’s forced displacement of palestinians from jerusalem

tell your state rep. to support the palestinian children and families act (h.r. 2590)

stop israel’s forced displacement of palestinians from east jerusalem

write canadian parliament to protect palestinian families in east jerusalem

Donation links-

unrwa, donations funded towards injured and displaced palestinian families

palestine children relief fund

further information-

free palestine carrd

stop annexation of palestine carrd

@/thearabkage on tiktok

please reblog/add sources!

Markus Moreno: SuperVillain

oops I made a really long multi chapter thing

-

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A Work of Art

Pairing: The Mandalorian/ Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: @mandowhorian posted a prompt that came across my dash and goddamn it, I had to write it.  Why does my brain do this to me when I got another fic to finish?  

Also @amarvelousmandalorian wrote a ditty that gave me the jump I needed.  Won’t ever be as good as some people’s but whatever, I had to get it out on paper, so to speak.

Reminder:  I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  

—***—

When she heard footsteps coming up the walkway, she rose from her chair to open the door.  She had just finished setting the table up for a meal, wondering if the man coming to her was going to enjoy her baked goods.  At least the house smelled of warm sugar rather than the bitterness of oil paint that usually permeated the space.

“Mandalorian!”  She called, waving at him with a large smile on her face.  She made a small note that his arms were empty of the little green being he had taken under his wing.  “I didn’t think you’d reach me by sundown, the rains have made the forest roads a little treacherous.  Come in, the tea is almost ready!”

He stopped in his tracks, confusion radiating off him and she laughed. She was his bounty and she was inviting him in for tea?  As he began to walk again, his steps were less certain as if he expected her to ambush him.  He kept his hand near his blaster and continued up the stone pathway.  

When he entered, the room seemed to shrink to half its size and for a moment, the Mandalorian felt awkward and unsure.  He mentally berated himself for letting these odd thoughts invade his mind.  She was the damn bounty and who cares if he was practically a bull in a china shop in her home?  She was coming with him and it wouldn’t be hers for much longer.

“Where is the little one?  I hope you haven’t left him on the ship unattended.  I thought you’d have learned not to do that.  No matter, we can make up a basket for you to take back.  I’m sure you hardly have anything homemade in your storehouse.”  She busied herself preparing plates of food and motioned for him to sit as she poured tea into heavy cups made of local wood.  He didn’t move, completely unnerved by her comments.  In the blink of an eye, he drew his blaster and pointed it at her.  She merely smiled and his irritation grew.

“How do you know about the kid?”  He growled at her, the hairs on his neck standing on end.  What the hell was going on?  Nothing about this seemed right to him.

“Exactly how I know about you, Din.  And why you’re here.  Please sit. I know you won’t eat with me around, but we can at least chat a bit.”  When he didn’t move, she looked at him pointedly.  “You sat on this job for four days even though you knew it could be done in twenty minutes.  Sit down.”

She had him there.  He sat down with a large thump and she worried he would break the wooden chair, sending himself sprawling into the stone wall behind him.  She giggled a bit at the image, wondering if he’d knock himself senseless in that helmet of his.  He pointed the blaster at her again.

“Talk, bounty.”

“I am Force sensitive, much like your little one and I know the Empire wishes to use us to regain power in the galaxy.  That’s why you were sent after us.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t tell me how you know me or my name.”  He still sounded hard, but he wasn’t growling at he any longer.  Only a select few knew his name and no one since Mandalore had fallen had spoken it directly to him until Moff Gideon said it on Nevarro.  And now this woman was speaking his name as sure as if they had been paired all their lives.

“I’ve always known you.”  Behind the mask, Din’s jaw dropped and his hold on the blaster wobbled a bit.

“How?”

“The Force.  Come with me.”  When she rose, she skirted the table and laid a hand on his shoulder.  Even through the layers of cloth and beskar, he could feel her warmth.  He angled his helmet to look at her before standing up.  He towered over her, his suit of armor crowding her out.  She turned and walked through a small door and motioned for him to come in.

When entered he stopped and in his state of shock, the blaster fell from his hand.  He was surrounded by… himself.  The walls covered in images of his face in different mediums – oil, chalk, crayon, pastels, acrylics, ink, and even embroidery.  No two pictures were the same and he slowly began to walk around the studio, taking it all in.  

He saw his face as a child before it went under the helmet and there in a pencil drawing was his face after a night out with Ran’s crew.  He looked up and saw a small portrait of himself holding the kid with the mudhorn insignia behind them.  All around him his face – his history – was charted on these walls.  Goosebumps broke out on his skin as he turned, seeking answers.

“When was I was ten, the Force began to grant me visions and sight.  By the time I was fourteen, I saw your face for the first time.  I was so in tune with your essence that I begun to draw you, to try and figure out who you were to me.”

“What did you discover?”

“You’re my soulmate.”

“Your what?!”  He barked out a laugh, utterly shocked at her words.  Soulmate?  People really believed that tripe?  He shook his head.

“How else to do you explain any of this?”  He shrugged until she pointed to a picture on the mantle.  He walked over and his breath hitched in his throat.  It was his face on Nevarro, right before he nearly died.  It was a harsh painting, dark with heavy blots of paint.  The image was almost grainy, and he could feel pain radiating from it, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it were his or hers.  He shuttered as he turned away.

“I watched you nearly die, Din.  I felt it in my very core as your life force leaked from you and a part of me was taken with it.”  She walked up to him and raised her hand. She tapped the back of his helmet, right over where the scar was.  “Here. Right here is where my life nearly ended had it not been for a droid.”

There was no way for her to have known what transpired on Nevarro nor where his scar was. And yet, she did and when she touched his helmet, it was as if there was no metal between them.  He could almost feel her soft fingertips along his skin.

“I do not know why the Force thought a Mandalorian would be good for me. But it did.  And I have been haunted for years as you were reckless with Ran.  I watched with pride as you became the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy.  My heart clenched when you showed what a good man you are Din Djarin when you went back for that little one and saved his life. And I know you have thought about me.”

“What?  I’ve never seen you before in my life and certainly I haven’t felt anything like you’re describing.”  His goosebumps were turning to shivers that he tried to ignore – little fissures of truth coming out of the darkness to shame him.  This was too weird, and he shook his head as if to clear everything.  A simple bounty, that was all this was supposed to be.

“Give me your hand.”  She looked at him and he looked down at her.  When he didn’t move, she asked again.  This time he complied and held it out to her.  She looked at him while removing his glove, exposing his calloused hand to her. She laid her own soft hand on his and closed her eyes.  Din stood rock still as he could feel her in his mind, in his soul.  Her voice sounded in his brain.

“Din.  Remember.” His eyes closed and suddenly a rush of memories came to him.  Gut-wrenching tears as he laid dying.  A smile that rang with laughter that he heard on the wind after receiving his sigil.  A horrified gasp as he shot IG-11.  A small caress filled with warmth as he laid in the Razor Crest while tracking a bounty on Hoth.  A voice telling him to go the other way as he got lost in the jungles of Byss.  A pair of eyes staring at him with love as he renounced Ran’s crew and left.  Even further back to days on Mandalore when a girl made eyes at him that he didn’t return because the specter of a face in his mind told him to wait for her.

He gasped loudly as these broken images formed together into her. His bounty.  She had always been there and yet she hadn’t.  He opened his eyes to watch her staring at him with a calm look on her face.  Those eyes, her voice, that face.  He knew something about her bounty puck photo seemed familiar to him and yet he couldn’t ever place it.  Now he knew why.

“How is it that you see me fully, but I couldn’t see you?”  His voice was quiet, and he curled his hand around hers.  Her smiled returned.

“You’re not Force sensitive to tune into the connection.  But it was there for you, and it showed itself when it could or when your guard was down enough for you to feel.”  She stopped smiling, brows knitting in concern.  “Are you going to turn me in?”

“Hell no.”  She let out a laugh.

“So, you’re just going to go around collecting Force-sensitive beings and protect us all from the Empire, then?”  He stood there and dropped his head back, groaning.  Oh Maker, he was in it now.

“Yeah, sounds like it.”  He pulled his head forward to look at her.  “I don’t know what this is between us, but I need more answers.”

“It’s a lot information, though, Din.  It’ll take some time.”

“Come with me.  We’ll make the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  He knew that despite the helmet that she could see his grin.  He knew because her smile looked just like his.

It is currently 6:14 am where I am. I’m in the mid west of the USA. Crying over that fact that I will lose my rights as a woman. My husband who is also awake and getting ready for work. Can’t grasp the dread I feel.

Im terrified and I feel sick. I just wanted to have a home and maybe some kids. But that is definitely NOT going to happen. I’m terrified to have children now. I already can’t afford to live and it will be even worse.

I hope that the people who didn’t vote will get to know that their vote would’ve mattered.

My husband has in not so many words told me I’m being dramatic because I have been looking at visas to work in other countries. I already wanted to leave America. This bullshit just solidifies my want to leave.

(If anyone who is non American can give info on visas for your country it would be appreciated.)

On another note: ⤵️

This is the one and only time I’m coming back to post on tumblr. I stopped posting or wanting to post because there was a ton of fandom drama on this hellsite. (What’s new)

ANYWAY!

To my fellow Americans who are also terrified I’m with you and I’m here for a chat if you need someone to talk to. If you feel you can’t talk to anyone you can talk to me. I’m giving you the biggest hugs I have to offer!

We WILL get through this! I know it!

Spring Blooms

Warnings: FLUFF - all of the tooth rotting fluff you can handle

Pairings: Marcus Pike x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1 K

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing for Marcus. Big ups to @yespolkadotkitty​ for all of her amazing beta-ing and encouragement.

“Are you nervous..?” You whispered into your fiancé’s ear. 

Marcus Pike looked at you with his deep amber eyes and chuckled. “It’s more of a nervous energy,” he confessed.

Your seven year old daughter, Elizabeth, sprinted ahead toward the Sculpture Garden at the National Gallery. Sensing that you were not keeping up with her, she turned around to see you both lagging behind. She exhaled deeply and drudged over to you in the over-exaggerated way that only little girls can. 

“C’mon, Mom and Marcus! Don’t you wanna see the statues?”

“Lizzy, the sculptures aren’t going anywhere. I promise,” you assured her. 

“Sometimes it’s nice just to stop and smell the roses,” chimed in Marcus. 

Lizzy scanned the area looking for any type of flower. When she couldn’t spot any, she shot him a quizzical look.  “I don’t see any roses. How can I smell them if they aren’t any?” 

“It’s an expression, honey. It means to relax and enjoy life.” You took your hand and ruffled her bright red hair. 

She looked at you and nodded. “Oh.”

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