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bonny-kookoo · 6 months

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Jungkook

𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙚 | 🔞 Main Work

He's one of the best, no race too tough to handle, every track a new challenge he takes on- especially when it's you who's waiting at the finish line for him.

Tags/Warnings: Racer!Jungkook, established relationship, romance, suggestive themes, heavy flirting, adult content, mentions of online hate, only minor angst, they're a power couple, this MC is now my spirit animal, smut

Length: ~5k words

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A/N: I know nothing about actual car racing. Pls don't take it too seriously, thanks haha 💗

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"But be real here-" A fellow driver asks, sitting down at the side now to pick up a water bottle. "-I always wondered, are you like, actually a couple?" He asks, taking a sip of his water, replenishing what he's sweat out during the training session with Jungkook and the other drivers.

Jungkook sighs to himself, before he gets into a sitting position, tapping the timer on his phone to a stop. He gets these questions a lot- whether or not you're in if for the right reasons, how good your pussy must be to have him put up with your annoying attitude all the time, or how someone like him isn't hooking up with models and actresses left and right. He's not sure why it's such an outrageous thing apparently to have a stable relationship, but somehow, if he just went by what magazines and online gossip-blogs report, it's apparently absolutely unthinkable to be in a normal loving relationship in his position.

But he is. And he intends to keep it that way for as long as you'll have him.

He loves you, dearly so. Your 'bad habits' and flaws are just as endearing to him as the rest of you, mainly because you were also there when he was just starting out, bank account almost always empty at every end of the month, rent barely being paid. You stayed even when he was at his lowest, you cheered him on when he won his first major race, and you consistently keep supporting him at every event you can. And to him, you're prettier than any model he could ever come across anyways.

"We're an actual couple indeed." Jungkook affirms, locking his phone before he screws open a plastic bottle of water himself.

"But like, isn't it a bit disappointing sometimes?" Jake asks him. "Like, I heard you never go to afterparties, and if you do it's always with her. You could have anyone, man." He laughs.

"You'll get there too, maybe." Jungkook chuckles simply, when the door opens, and familiar jingles of jewelry make him smile to turn around- and there you are, meeting his eyes with a smile, as he instantly moves to stand up.

"I bought you all your favorite snacks, and there's like, one of those electrolyte drinks there too." You say after pecking his lips with your strawberry flavored lipbalm, putting the white plastic bag into his hands. "You're not overdoing it, right?" You ask, and he grins, shaking his head.

"I'm almost finished anyways. You wanna wait up here? We can go back to the hotel together then." He asks you, gently pulling your hair out of your long earrings where some of it had gotten tangled. You let him, and wait for him to lean back as a sign that he's finished, before you answer.

"If it's not too much of a bother? There's already a bunch of paparazzi outside, I think someone might've leaked your location online.." You tell him, and he grows serious at that.

"Then you'll wait. I don't want you going back to the hotel alone if they're outside." He tells you now, not giving you another option. He remembers the last time you almost got mobbed at the airport, simply because you flew out the country a day after he did- and of course it created rumors and the wildest theories as to why that might've been the case. It's what happens to him constantly due to his status as the 'hottest race driver of his generation'.

One magazine reported that you apparently have been spotted fighting by someone at a restaurant, and that that could explain why you had sunglasses on during the airport walk- because you two probably broke up, and your eyes must've been swollen from crying. In reality, you always wore shades or shielded your eyes, because you're sensitive to the camera lights and the masses of people make you anxious, so you always try and blur them out somewhat.

Another online forum speculated that you two definitely broke up, and that it was long coming, because the hate must've gotten to you finally. That there's just no way you both could've ever worked out, and that it was just pushed by your parents so you'd have the most comfortable life imaginable. Your father allegedly introduced you to Jungkook at a press conference, which made Jungkook laugh.

True, your parents know each other- but only because you're a couple, and obviously became closer over the years of dating. It didn't make sense that you both just became a couple so you'd have it easy, when he's mentioned multiple times that you both have been dating for way longer than the span of his career.

And then, that one gossip site that pushed the narrative that he cheated on you at the last afterparty. That there's images from the event where he can be seen with a woman with long dark hair that's definitely not you, and that you most likely found out and kicked him out- and just flew out to start a new life in a different country.

That one made him angry.

The woman he'd been seen with was Mingyu's mother- his best friend whom he'd helped out the burning wreck of his car after he'd crashed into the side barriers. She'd simply been there to thank him, and he'd hugged her just as a way of reassuring her that he'd always be there for any of his teammates, no matter what. And that specific website constantly stirred up cheating allegations- either at him, or you, it didn't matter. Clearly edited photos, alleged video evidence that didn't even show you both at all, it was stupid, really.

He's lucky that you don't instantly believe anything you see. Up until now, you always confronted him first if there was anything you were concerned about. And you trusted him, just as much as he trusted you.

Finishing up his workout, he takes the towel you offer with a thanks, deciding to ignore Jake's stares at your tits for now, since it doesn't appear to bother you at all. And honestly, he can understand. They do look great.

And they feel even better- but that's only for him to know.

The moment you both exit the gym they're all there- and he instantly moves you slightly behind him to properly shield you from anyone trying to reach out to you, which has happened often enough before to make him now hyperaware of it. But you somehow make it into the car waiting to take him back to the hotel without anything happening- though the questions hurled at you both from every side do annoy him to high heavens.

Jungkook are you still together?

Jungkook did you both talk things out?

Jungkook did you really cheat on her?

Jungkook-

"Jungkook." You ask him, and he moves his head to you now. "I asked you if we wanted to take a bath at the hotel? The tub is huge!" You beam at him, and at the sight of you all genuinely happy and carefree, he smiles, nodding, before he takes your hand to hold.

As long as you're still there, everything's fine.

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"Oh god-" You breath out, hand in his hair while he's gripping your thighs over his shoulders to keep them open.

Your panties are still hanging from one of your ankles, toes curled as he licks and swallows over your core, orgasm rapidly approaching you as he places a teasing kiss to your sensitive pearl. He moves around with ease, slips out of his pants rather quickly before he pushes your legs towards you once more, aligning himself with your entrance after lubing himself up shamelessly with your arousal he's gathered with his hand.

He doesn't need to rid you of any clothes- he's done that already.

You always joke that the secret to your happy relationship is back-breaking sex and good cooking- but sometimes, you actually believe it.

It's his main way of relieving stress- he's told you as much before. And he also enjoys the more romantic and sensual aspects of it, the closeness to you, and the knowledge that it's something special just between the two of you. It's always a little playful, unserious, light and relaxing, especially afterwards- the shared afterglow you both experience always something special where you both reconnect and bond once more. It's like you grow closer every time you're together like this.

Even though, according to him, that's impossible.

"Gonna.. wanna take you to the movies..!" He grits out, leaning back while while he holds your legs by the backs of your knees, thrusting his hips steadily into you. "Ah, fuck.."

"Can I- can I choose?" you giggle in pleasure, hands over your head grabbing the pillows while he watches your chest swing in the rhythm of his pace.

"Hm, I don't know.." He mumbles, leaning over you now after letting go of your legs to peck your cheek. "What do you wanna watch?" He wonders, before mouthing at your neck.

"Right now?" You hum dreamily, closing your eyes at the sensations of it all. "Wanna watch you." You say, and he chuckles against your skin, hands next to your head steadying him as he slows down a bit to a more sensual rhythm, though he presses himself deeper at the same time, making you arch your back as your legs hook together over his back.

"You're so cute." He teases, one of his hands moving to run over your chest, playfully smacking one of them once to earn a squeak from you- and laughter from him.

"Kook-!" You whine, and he mimics your tone a little, before his hand moves over your body between your legs where you're currently connected, fingers toying around with you. "Yes-!" You beg, thighs pressing together against his body, before you reach your high, muscles twitching from the feeling, while he becomes a bit more erratic now with your core clenching around his length.

He cums a little afterwards, pulling out before he spills his seed over your lower abdomen, the sight always doing something to him.

"You know, I really wanna go to that premiere that I was invited to with you." He says after taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair, getting up after leaning over you to peck your lips twice- because once is never really enough for him.

"Heh, you know I'll always be at your side if you want me there." You sing-song, stretching your limbs while he turns on the water in the bathtub, door open to be able to hear you. "So, if you wanna take me, of course I'll be your arm-candy!" You chirp, and he smiles as he returns with some babywipes in his hands to wipe down your skin.

"I always want you at my side." He tells you gently, careful with the rather cold wipes on your skin. "And I'm glad you're still willing to put up with me and this whole thing." He shrugs, throwing the tissues away in the trashcan.

"Why wouldn't I?" You wonder up at him as he hooks his hands underneath your back and legs to carry you into the bathroom of the hotel room you're staying at, to help you into the tub.

"Why would you?" He sighs, getting into the tub as well, unscrewing the small bottle of soap offered by the hotel to pour it into the water. "I sometimes really wonder how.. strong you must be to just constantly put up with all the things said about you and me." He says, pulling you closer to him as the bubbles form with the water pouring in. "…I was really scared, you know." He mumbles onto your skin before he kisses your shoulder.

"Of what?" You ask, unsure.

"When the rumor spread of me cheating. I always.. get worried you might become doubtful of me when things like these are said." He admits to you, before you turn around in his arms, his hands immediately on your hips.

"I'm not worried though." You simply tell him, running your hands through his hair before they settle around his neck. "I trust you." You shrug, and he moves his hands up to hold your cheeks, pulling you closer to kiss you until you giggle, pushing against his pecks to get him away. "Kook no-" You laugh, but he whines.

"But I want to love my girlfriend!" He complains.

"You just did!" You argue back, and he plays with his lip rings for a second.

"But you deserve more." He purrs, trying a little more.

"And my pussy needs a break!" You respond back, making him laugh. This is why he loves you so much- why he loves your relationship so much. Living with you is easy, it's relaxing, it's light and it takes his mind off of all the worries he has.

Because when he's with you, it's like none of it matters. He can just fall into your arms and trust you to catch him every single time.

And you do. Just like right now, as you kiss him until the water cools down, and the bubbles are all gone.

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Something he's never really told you is the amount of people trying to get to you- through him of all people.

Mainly because everyone still somewhat believes the most common rumor that you're just a sugar baby kind of situation- that you're up for anyone, as long as the numbers fit your standards. It's infuriating really, makes his blood boil because what else does he have to do to make people take you both seriously? It's not even just the fact that they apparently don't take him seriously as your partner- but that they really think you'd be someone to use others for money, just because you're not the quiet sweet person in the background who they can bully around.

But he has a plan. Foolproof, really, and he's wanted to do that this year anyways.

"I need my good-luck-kiss.." He teases, keeping you close to him.

"Well if we had enough time I'd give you the whole good-luck-menu, but you gotta go get ready now." You giggle while he bites at your neck.

"Not yet.." He complains, already in his overalls, helmet on the bench close by. You're hiding behind a corner like schoolkids attempting not to get caught skipping class, and he admits that you both do this a lot. He just can't get enough, and today especially, he just wants to make sure the cameras can see his marks on you, and know that they're his. "Will you watch the race?" He asks, and you giggle.

"Of course. I always do." You promise, and he grins, before he pecks your lips one last time, finally getting ready.

You're standing in the VIP spots, watching closely how he starts the race, seemingly a bit behind. But he's pushy, he always is, competitiveness not letting him lose without a fight. And fighting he does, quickly catching up as he squeezes past several other competitors, making your pulse rise quite a bit. Truth be told, you always worry- especially after his friend's last accident that you witnessed that day. The race had been interrupted because of it, and had been decided to be re-started at a later date once Mingyu had fully recovered.

He only sustained minor injuries, cracked a rib and a minor concussion, but nothing else. But the sight of the car will stay in your head for quite a while.

You have nightmares, sometimes. Of Jungkook being in a wreck like that, flames swallowing his broken body whole, and you can't do anything to save him. That's most likely the biggest reason you're always a little on edge whenever he drives. You know he's a good driver, of course he is- but still. You can't help but worry.

Not that you'll ever tell him. He doesn't need about something stupid like that.

It's not even half an hour in, and a black flag is waved at a blue car lagging behind. There's smoke coming from the back wheels- so he's asked to leave the tracks and drive into his pit box, which he promptly does to get his vehicle inspected. It seems to be a more serious issue however- because the announcer suddenly explains that the racer named Jake Pitcher won't return to the tracks.

Time passes by, and the race goes on without much interruption. Everyone follows the rules, flags are waved left and right to navigate things happening, and your eyes occasionally lose sight of the mainly red and black hyundai Jungkook is driving, though you always find him again at the very top, leading the race. It's after the second pit stop that a driver in a sky-blue Toyota is becoming visibly more aggressive, especially towards Jungkook.

It's alright to be a bit pushy, you've learned that that's the norm- but this guy is putting other drivers in danger with just how close he's pressing himself against Jungkook's back and another's side.

But this is the sport. It's an aggressive one, and the rules about how to race are pretty grey.

Someone crashes, a yellow and green racecar you've seen earlier. The vehicle spins on the ground in donuts a few times before it comes to a stop on the grass, and the team is visibly running around to sort things out. It's announced that the driver is awake and alert, and doesn't seem injured- and the car is towed safely away, one lane closed until everything is cleared once more, caution in place for now causing everyone to slow down a little until the track is cleared again.

Jungkook had crashed before. Multiple times, even. He's cracked ribs, bruised his body, broken bones. Never anything too serious- but enough to remind you every time how dangerous his career is. You hate that side of it, and sometimes you really wish he would just call it quits- but you also understand that he's passionate about this, that this is his dream.

You'll always remember his worst crash- the way his car had flown through the air rolling around like it was nothing but a toy, front wheels almost pulled off entirely- and your fear inside your bones as it took him ages it felt like to climb out of the wreck, surprisingly unscathed, only bruised badly in some spots.

He was on a stretcher that day, a safety precaution even though he turned out mostly fine. You remember not even having the energy to scold him in hospital, crying at his side for hours it felt like until he'd managed to calm you down enough, his laugh teasing as he'd helped you wipe off your ruined makeup before going back to the hotel later to sleep- your body even clingier than ever before.

It's his fourth pit stop. Things are looking good- this time the car seems to be holding up a lot better than last time when he only made the third place, and the commenters seem to recognize that too. Jungkook is the only one bringing a car of his type on the track after all- it's basically the talk of town every time he participates. He went from being a joke to a true competitor nowadays- finally being taken seriously on the tracks, and you know Jungkook relishes in the feeling of it.

He loves to win, after all. Even if it's just the respect of others.

Suddenly, something happens in the front. The toyota pushes too hard, too far to the side, and it breaks the current leader completely into the barriers as the car loses control, dragging several cars with him- And as your eyes search for the familiar red and black car with white font written all over it, you find it.

There's a lot of smoke, several cars unable to continue, a driver exits his own on the grassy spot in the middle, throwing his helmet in frustration. Jungkook's car is scratched, badly, a slight crack in front, but he's still driving- seemingly having escaped with nothing but some minor damage. He's slowed down just like everyone else now, entire track under major caution as the damage to a lot of other car's is being inspected, several people now left out with their cars damaged too hard to compete any longer.

Jungkook seems just a bit out of breath from the shock from what you can see on the screens, now in the pit box where tape is placed over a break in the front over the scratches, car being refueled and inspected just to make sure. He gives a thumbs up when asked if he's alright- a nod given to other questions. According to a commenter, he's asking for any serious injuries in other drivers- but there are none, so he's reassured that everyone's alright and up walking around.

Caution is lifted, green flag waved. The fight is back on, speed increasing as they once more go back full force, pushing and mixing up the order in which they're making their way towards the finish line.

It's the last stretch now, and things are getting clearly heated on the tracks. From clear pushing to forceful passing, scratches and bumps can probably be found on every car after this race is done. There's a fight happening now, and Jungkook is not backing down from anyone- now doubling down, and pressing himself towards the front. He's not as impolite as some other drivers further back, but he still bites, clearly so- currently passing another car, the white flag waved as he presses himself against his competitor.

One round left.

You can practically feel the tension now, pulse racing just as quickly as his car drives as he pushes himself further and further up front. He's in second place. That's most likely the spot he'll make.

Or?

It's almost in the last second it seems like when he manages to outrun the Chevrolet he's been pushing against next to- the black and white checkered flag waved, Jungkook's name being called as everyone cheers.

He made it. His team cheers- but you're frozen in time.

Because this is also a win for you, every singe time. Your prize is the fact that he's unscathed, that he's okay, that nothing happened. Fireworks light up the sky, when suddenly, he turns the car, covers the track in white smoke from his wheels, a full on spin one of his by now signature winning gestures.

His team runs towards him, pulls down the window gate to congratulate him as he climbs out, pulling his gloves off before he takes off his helmet and climbs on the roof of his car, clearly excited over the win. The interview is easy, as he answers questions thanks his team, before he becomes nervous, visibly, shaking his hands a little. "You still seem rather emotional from the race!" The interviewer jokes, and Jungkook nods, before he runs a hand over his face, bracing himself it seems like.

"Yeah that too, but uh- I made myself a little challenge too, you know?" He laughs. "I promised myself if I won this race, I'd.. do something I've been chickening out of for quite a while now." He explains, and you become a bit nervous now, unsure what he's trying to say. You're making your way down now to where his team is too, now closer and in sight as Jungkook grins to himself.. almost shy?

A member of his crew gives him something, and you become suspicious when he walks towards you now, because that stupid grin he has on his face just spells trouble in bold capital letters.

"You put up with so much shit, you know?" Jungkook tells you over the sound of people cheering and the commentator telling the crowd what's happening- everyone now curious. "You really do- and I don't think there's anyone out here in this world that can really love me like you do." He offers, and you laugh to yourself. "Don't laugh! I'm serious!" He complains, making some crewmembers laugh. "Either way, I might've won the race, but do you know what prize I'd really like instead?" He wonders, before he moves to drop to one knee.

"You, as my wife." He tells you, slightly dirty black box containing a ring.

And suddenly, the world seems to quiet down entirely as you nod, watching in fascination as he puts the ring on your finger in front of thousands.

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"Jungkook you're speeding!" You whine as he laughs in the driver's seat, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the weather.

"Babe I'm actually way below the limit, what're you talking about?" He chuckles, always a little amused by the irony of your fear of him driving- him, a professional racecar driver. "It's an RV, not a racecar. Relax a bit." He says, taking your hand to kiss the back of it before he continues to hold it.

He's taking some time off- spending a vacation in europe with you, having rented an RV for some quality camping that he's always wanted to do with you. Now that his relationship status had been officially upgraded so to speak, rumors have died down- the thrill seemingly left now that he's made it more than clear that he's taking it seriously with you, even though he always has.

"Still, can't you drive a bit slower?" You worry, and he shakes his head.

"No can do darling. But we only have half an hour to go anyways, so we're almost there." He tells you.

"Half an hour can feel like a lifetime though.." You pout quietly, and at that, he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

"Were you scared when they all crashed?" He asks, and you nod.

"I searched for your car right away. You can't believe how I felt when I saw you come through that cloud of smoke and car-parts almost unharmed." You whine. "I hate that I'm always so scared. I don't want you to feel bad when you drive-" You worry, and he laughs.

"You're not making me feel bad, don't worry." He shakes his head. "I can understand how hard that must be to watch though. Just like I said, I'll never understand how you put up with me and my shit." He offers, and you shrug.

"I don't know either." You huff. "You constantly bully me." You complain.

"I don't bully you!" Jungkook argues scandalized.

"You constantly make fun of my height, and you laugh when I'm scared, and you slap my ass in front of everyone no matter who!" You say, and he shrugs.

"It's a nice ass, what can I say?" He defends himself, making you glare at him. "Hey come on, you can't possibly blame me, you slap my ass too!" He argues back to you.

"That's cause you deserve it!" You respond.

"And you don't?" He wonders.

"Absolutely not. I'm an angel!" You state, and he laughs theatrically.

"You might get down on your knees regularly but you're not a saint-" He jokes, making you roll your eyes. "-see? And a brat too.!" He teases.

"Yeah well if you're not nice to me I won't suck your dick for the entire trip." You threaten. "Not even once." You state, making him pout playfully.

"Not even the tip?"

"Won't even touch your balls." You respond, and he whines.

"Oh no! Anything but that!" He complains, finally driving towards the entrance of the camping spot. "What do I have to do to gain back the sacred touch of my soon-to-be-wife?" He asks, having parked the RV now, and taken off his glasses.

"..you can start by giving her a nice kiss." You tell him. "But a good one. With feelings and all- the whole menu." You demand, and at that he leans over the middle, careful not to touch anything and cause an accident, pulling you closer by your neck.

"Well-" He smiles warmly at you. "-that's easy."

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"So how have you always dealt with all the hate and rumors about you both? That must've been pressuring!" A paparazzi asks you as you stand right next to your by now husband, who's just made the second place in his latest race.

"Oh, I just look at him naked to remind myself why it's all worth it in the end!" You beam happily at them, Jungkook laughing loudly next to him.

Yeah- you're really one of a kind.

And he doesn't mind spending the rest of his life with you.

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marasvenus · 6 months

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Your Next Step In School/Career ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

Pictures above are edited by me but are not mine :)

Pile 1┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Okay, Pile One, I think we have a bit to unpack here 😭 so for some of you, you might have just finished up with a degree, possibly a degree that’s taken a very long time to obtain. I think it could be some veterinary degree of sorts? That could only be for a few of you so take what resonates.

It’s gonna sort to get oddly specific here so pls bear with me 😭 you might be going back to your home town or maybe just somewhere you haven’t lived for a very long time. For some of you, you may have moved away from home to go to college and then moved away from that college to continue your education elsewhere and now you’re doing back to where this town that you went to this college is. (I hope that makes sense and again, it’s oddly specific so pls take what resonates and leave the rest!)

You may just be struggling to find work now that you’ve graduated and it could simply be that there’s not many jobs available where you currently live. For some of you, you might be applying to jobs where you’re moving to and not hearing anything back and it may be really stressing you out and causing you to rethink this decision.

I think you’re making the right decision and moving away is what’s best for you. A big part of the next step in your career is making connections within your field. Possibly on LinkedIn or by going out and meeting new people. I think putting yourself out there and meeting new people will be what gets you a job or maybe applying gets you the job but something about communication and making connections/building relationships gets you where you want to be. This whole energy is giving me hallmark movie vibes for some reason but it’s really nice.

The stress and anxiety you’re currently feeling is understandable and it’s okay to feel that. You may also be dealing with grief/loss. Know that it’s okay to feel these things and allow yourself to feel them. You may he pushing away emotions because you’re afraid to let yourself feel them and it’s doing more harm then good. There’s this feminine energy that may be a spirit guide or passed loved one for some of you that wants you to know you’re doing better than you realize and you’re going to be okay. Just breathe. I heard “it all works itself out with time”

This is another specific message that you should only take if it resonates but some of you may have savings that you may need to dip into a little and you may be worried about it. You don’t have to clear out your savings and it’s important to still be careful with your money but it’s okay if you need to use it for moving expenses or anything expenses you have when you arrive to your new home. This also might just be a heads up from your guides that you will be using some of these savings on unexpected moving expenses/expenses in your new place. Again, only take it if it resonates.

This reading is much longer than I intended and a little all over the place so I’ll leave it here but just know that everything is gonna be alright, Pile One.

Pile 2┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Hello, Pile 2! So this energy is very different from Pile One. I think you all are just starting a new journey in school/career and are very excited but maybe nervous. Your nerves may be more about fitting in/making friends in this new setting. For those of you in college/university or entering college/university, definitely join clubs/groups. Specifically a study group. I think you’ll meet a lot of people and this will not only help with building friendships and meeting new people, but also with your studies/work and staying on track.

Coffee shops or some sort of small diners or something seem significant. Maybe like a Main Street restaurant or something? You could meet people here. Some of you may be coming out of a rough situation or maybe a breakup so this new start is a change to fully embrace and find yourself. Finding strength in alone time and independence while also creating beautiful connections and friendships and nurturing/maintaining those connections. Maybe this pervious situation/relationship was isolating and kept you away from people so this is really your chance to branch out and meet others and focus on yourself. You’ll meet people that encourage you to love yourself and build yourself up and it will be a really nice change of pace.

Some of you may start a new job? Possible a part time job while you’re in school. This may be where this cafe/Main Street restaurant or something comes in. It may be where you end up working. Some of you may have already seen job listings for a job like this but haven’t applied or are thinking about applying and I definitely think you should do it!

There’s just this energy here of a lot of new connections but there’s a specific one that seems very significant. I think you may be meeting your best friend in this next chapter of your life (specifically at this new job if that resonates) this isn’t giving romantic energy but it feels like a platonic soulmate. This is someone that will become like a sibling to you, like your favorite person and your other half. This is a very beautiful connection that you’re about to find, Pile Two 🥹

Overall, this is a very beautiful chapter for you and it’s important that you embrace it fully. The only thing I will say is that you may be very sure about your studies and think you’ll handle them very well (which is a great mindset to have and I want you to hold onto that mindset!) but they may become overwhelming and you could fall behind if you’re not careful. The study group I mentioned earlier will be very important and helpful in staying on top of things. You may push work aside to spend time with friends but just make sure to keep a good and equal balance between work and personal time.

Pile 3┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Now this may not resonate for all of you… but are some of you messing around with your boss 👀 again.. take it if it resonates but there definitely seems to be something with a boss. For some of you, maybe you’re boss is just attracted to you or you’re attracted to your boss, maybe there’s rumors/gossip going around in the workplace about the two of you or something. I think you’ve been offered a promotion or you are about to be offered a promotion but maybe you don’t feel like you’ve earned it because of this situation or maybe others have said you haven’t earned it because of this situation. If this is the case, I wanna tell you know that you 100% deserve anything and everything good and amazing and beautiful coming your way and you better not let anyone tell you otherwise.

Your energy is so powerful and magnetic and it’s clear that you have an incredibly strong work ethic. Maybe you work in a field that’s dominated by the opposite gender or maybe you’re young compared to others in your field? It could also be that you took a different route to getting into your field but there’s something that sets you apart from others you work with. Anyone around you that has something to say or that doubts your excellence and work ethic is simply jealous. Everything you have is yours because your earned it. I wish I could put this energy into words because it’s so incredibly powerful and you deserve to feel every ounce of it. You hold so much more power than you realize or give yourself credit for.

Your energy would be so good to have going into a job interview 😭 you have a very go getter vibe about you but you’re also very blunt and you tell it how it is and some people may not be able to take that (and that’s on them. Don’t ever change) some people may fear you getting this promotion because they know it means they can’t slack off or get away with as much because you’ll be on top of things. I heard “you run a right ship” you’ll make sure things are done correctly and on time and that every member of your team is playing apart in keeping this running properly and smoothly. Higher ups in your company or like CEOs or something may take notice because you keep things running so smoothly and there’s a significant change and improvement within the company.

Whatever this situation is with a boss (again, take it as it applies and only if it resonates) may sort of fall apart after your promotion. I think it could have to do with you doing so much better than them and being favored over them by higher ups in your company/corporation. I think this thing ending would be a good thing cause I don’t like this boss’ energy AT ALL. It just doesn’t match yours like it should and quite honestly, your energy is way too good to be involved in this person’s energy. This person just feels very icky and immature and you deserve much better.

Overall, know that good things come to you because you work for them and you deserve them. You attracted amazing things because you are an amazing person and it’s not your problem if someone else can’t handle that. You are magnetic, powerful, and worthy of every amazing thing coming your way. Don’t doubt yourself and continue to further your career. You have an amazing work ethic and a very strong and powerful voice and those two things will take you so so far in life. If no one else has told you recently, I’m proud of you and you got this.

Lastly, I just wanted to add that those people that have something to say or dislike you rn are going to come around and love you after they get to know you more. It’s going to take time for them to realize that their dislike for you comes from their own insecurities but once they do, they will see you for the beautiful human being that you are. Don’t change anything about yourself, let them realize they’ve been wrong this whole time.

#tarotblr #spirituality #tarot #tarot reading #free tarot readings #love reading #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarot cards #collective reading #career reading #self love reading #personal reading #pick a card #tarot pick a card #tumblr tarot

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tachimichishrine · 6 months

Note

Please I am begging, I can’t get over just how perfect Tachihara would be with the whole ghost face trend. Please please please

<what. what if I told you I wholeheartedly agree. throws my headcanons and love at you>

"scream for me"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

tachihara michizou x fem! reader {ghostface trend} hcs

warnings: nsfw ; kitchen sex ; knife play ; intended lowercase ; cursing; unedited so unedited i wrote this half asleep thinking abt being pussy drunk on tachi pls forgive me

manz is a SPY. he's done undercover work and wears a disguise 24/7 (his disguise is a goddamn bandaid but he's hot so we let it slide) he adores getting dressed up

I think he'd be really bad at taking it serious though

100% he gets very childish about things like birthdays, holidays, halloween bc he didn't get that kind of experience with his family when he was younger (womp womp :/)

the hunting dogs obviously don't have anything to do with halloween so imagine his surprise when he caught the port mafia hq covered in spider webs and blood.

the blood was likely real

elise was the one who insisted on it, and if she insists, everyone is wearing cat ears and fake vampire fangs.

chuuya was a vampire the dude definitely had practice

he was definitely in the spooky scary spirit when he had his head on your lap, one hand sliding under and up between your thighs like a pillow and watching scream

i KNOW he felt just the teeny tiniest insecurity when you started calling certain scenes really hot but he tried, really hard, to ignore it.

got a little too comfortable and sleepy when you starting running your fingers through his hair and found himself letting out a yelp at the stupidest jumpscares

you teased him for it all night

"do you think I'd survive in one of those horror movies?" you asked later that night, curled up in bed.

"your dumbass would probably trip and kill yourself on a kitchen knife while making breakfast."

"well, fuck you."

"only if you insist" said with his trademark grin.

you got him back by playing into his jumpiness and hiding around every corner, even when you're on missions

you sprung out with a dramatic ghost-like scream (holding back laughter) on one important mission and the man almost shot you

like he pulled the trigger and everything and had to use his ability to keep the bullet from drilling a hole in your stupid skull.

you toned down the pranks after that.

however, it did give him an idea.

he started using his ability to set up the mood for payback by making metal doors creak or scraping chair legs on the ground slowly

a chill physically ran up your spine when you were walking hand in hand and the front door of an empty "for sale" store slammed open, then shut.

maybe he liked it a little how you squeezed his hand when he did that

maybe he liked it a little when you punched him on the shoulder as you realized it was just his antics

but he sure as hell liked it when you roughly smacked his naked ass and shoved his face into the sheets later that night to teach him a lesson

you liked his screams more like that anyways

tachihara was nowhere to be found after you disappeared into the shower trying to wash off all the smeared cum he'd left on your body. you already thought it was strange that he didn't join you even when you offered, but it was even weirder when you came out in nothing but a towel, and the bed was empty.

"michi, I know you're tryin' to be cute or whatever and scare me, but you're not very subtle about it," you giggled, ditching the underwear to just put on some shorts and one of his shirts. your body bounced onto the mattress that was still warm from your bodies, still smelling like sex and gunpowder. the covers were thrown over you and snuggled into and you waited patiently.

it was amusing, at first.

it was annoying after 10 minutes.

you'd gone on your phone, scrolling listlessly to pass the time while you waited for him to finish up whatever stupid prank he was planning so you could get back to sleep, but a whole half hour had passed and it was beginning to feel a little wrong. you weren't worried (he kicked your ass in training too many times for you not to know how strong he was), but sure as hell curious as to what was going on. it was the spooky season, after all, and there was no harm in indulging a little bit; you dialed his number and heard it ring from somewhere in the apartment.

he was really trying to set it up for you, huh? cute. you figured you'd play along.

the phone was vibrating from the kitchen counter, and you picked it cautiously, glancing around you to find out from where your boyfriend was inevitably going to try to jump at you. you heard a chair move, and your eyes darted to look over in that direction out of instinct.

of course a hand clasped around your mouth and another pulled your waist backwards. you bit his gloved hand playfully to get him to let you go and just giggled, shoving your hips back onto him teasingly and trying to flip around to get a look at him.

your entire body got slammed onto the kitchen counter, hair pulled back in one harsh movement

oh fuck.

you didn't think you'd be bent over so fast, his hips already grinding into your ass while the thin, cheap plastic of his mask rubbed against your cheek, his husky voice laying out every lewd thing you both knew you were thinking. from the way his body was leaning onto you, you guessed that he was shirtless and wearing just about the tightest, low-cut pants known to man being held up by a belt (there was definitely a thick belt; you felt the buckle poke into your lower back every time he'd grind too hard)

"michzou..." you didn't have any problems with what he was doing, but loose fingers were touching your body all over and the thin shorts you'd thrown on previously without a second thought were soaking with every word he'd rasp out. "michi, stop playin' around, I-"

it seems your simple ask got you manhandled again, and both gloved hands were now on your thighs, lifting you up to sit you down on the counter so he could rub against you from the front. it was hard to take it seriously and you let out a giggle when you watched him loom over you with the ghostface mask on, trying to be serious. your fingers went to dig into his shoulders as your hips rolled, back arched trying to feel him better.

he sighed, groaning and trying to slip off the mask when he realized it wasn't having the effect he wanted, but you flicked it back on.

"just because I'm laughing doesn't mean I don't think this is fuckin' hot," you reassured him, ironically chuckling again, and this spurred him to grab your hands and pin them above your head on the cabinets above.

"can't believe you liked gettin' fucked by a masked man this much." his voice was deeper than it usually was but god did it get you throbbing. your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to regain control without your hands.

you quipped back with a sly grin. "would be better if you actually fucked me."

shit, you knew just what to say to get him riled up. he let your hands go to pull off your useless shorts which already had splotches of your arousal, and you seized the opportunity to unbuckle his belt, slide your fist into his pants and pull him out.

getting fucked senseless by your masked boyfriend on the kitchen counter at 3 in the morning was not on your schedule for halloween.

"you know," you mused, your pace slowing once the build up had passed but still rocking yourself on him, "usually the victims try to fight back."

"the fuck does that me-"

the cold metal of a knife poked and teased the exposed skin on his neck, and you felt a little irritated you couldn't see his shock through the mask. "c'mon, you've had your fun, baby, it's my turn."

he wanted to play the part, he really did, but before he could try to resist you had him gently sliced into streaks of red, teeth marks coating his body and his tongue gagging on blood-stained fingers from under the mask. your legs were still secured around his hips, fucking into him slowly and deeply, and every guttural groan that echoed out in the hollow apartment was good enough to keep you going while his body tensed up with rigid muscles and heavy breaths.

he couldn't take it anymore once the searing sting of you smearing his blood on his skin mixed in with the pleasure of dragging against your tightly clenched walls, and he murmured a curse before discarding the mask, messily kissing you with groaning lips buried into your neck once he finally got enough air to pant your name.

ah, the dumbass. he really tried to get you to play along but it was hard when you had him under your thumb. maybe next year, he'd try again.

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holewithinahole · 8 months

Text

The Spirit's in It | Egon Spengler x nb!reader [1/3]

Summary: “I didn’t know psychology doctors also specialized in particle physics, is all.”

What you meant as a light joke to relax him did quite the opposite. He straightens, righting up his glasses one more pointless time. “I have a degree in nuclear engineering,” he states before walking out, leaving you confused and feeling like you’ve spent the entire time offending him unintentionally.

Warnings: dubious science, non-native writer, non-beta'd

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Ao3 Link

Woopsies, I'm back to plaster my insecurities on fictional characters. This work is part of a two-part series which follows the events of the Ghostbusters primary canon. The first part, set during the first movie, will be cut in 3 smaller bits for Tumblr. When all parts will be posted, I'll upload it on Ao3. The parts are all written, so it'll be released soon enough.

I just want to do a little disclaimer. Usually my 'reader' characters are very loosely characterized so anyone can project on them. However, this reader might not fit everyone? I'm sorry about that. Overall, if you're autistic, on the aro/ace spectrum or just a tiny bit ND, you might feel more connection to the reader lmao.

Ah! Also, the science sucks, pls ignore. It can be read as a prequel to It's always the quiet ones, btw.

Summer, 1984

This is a good song, you think, the beat intense enough to distract the back of your brain as you write down the last advancements of your research. You’ve spent the entire month of July reading books and other scientists’ papers, but not managing – until now – to sit down and order the large number of notes you piled up. Running on the pure energy of your hyper-focused state, a dozen cups of coffee and a single chocolate bar, you definitely didn’t notice the man stepping into your lab, not until you randomly glanced up and met the disconcerted gaze of an unknown guest.

“Excuse me?” he mouths out.

You straighten in your chair so quickly your back snap.

“Ah! Yes! Sorry, what is it?” you stammer, taking out your headphones with shaky hands and fumbling with your Walkman.

The man stands at the entrance of the lab, strangely stiff, seemingly assessing his next course of action before taking exactly four steps toward your desk.

“I would like to borrow a soldering iron.” He rights his glasses up his long nose.

The first thing you take note of is the low modulation of his voice; an unusual pitch that seems to vibrate directly out of his chest. The second is his wide, rigid build. From your chair, he towers over you, and your neck is starting to hurt from stretching uncomfortably (it might just be your overall terrible posture.)

You’ve been staring a little too long so you clear your throat and get up. “And you are? Not that I’m unwilling to lend you a soldering iron but I can’t just give my tools to strangers–”

“Dr. Spengler, I work at the psychology pole of this university,” he interrupts.

He looks at you like you’ve got a stain right in the middle of your forehead. You glance away.

“Psychology? What do you intend to solder? A loose neuron?” You stand up, cracking up a joke nervously.

“I assure you I don’t conduct any dangerous experiments on unwilling subjects.”

Despite the tension, it’s the ‘unwilling’ that does it for you and you let out a chuckle. Finally meeting his eyes, the light frown he adorns is either one of incomprehension or irritation, making you drop the smile immediately.

“Uh–” you croak out before you decide better not to say anything. You both end up looking awkwardly at each other, and time seems to be stretching to amplify your discomfort – and probably his as well. It feels like orbiting a black hole while he’s rushing through the universe at 18.5 miles a second.

Smart enough to be a researcher, stupid enough to ruin a simple conversation.

Fingers fidgety, you walk away to rummage through your closets, taking out the tool and handing it to him. “I do intend to have it back soon, Dr. Spengler.”

There’s a slight hesitation in his hand before he takes it, nodding curtly. In your defense, you do try to smile, even if it’s an uptight, embarrassing attempt. Oddly enough, he doesn’t leave, staring at the iron for a couple of seconds.

Abruptly, he clears his throat, looking intently at your face. “I’m improving a prototype that detects the presence of paranormal entities and directs me to them using a boron-trifluoride counter tube and a platinum electrode.” He doesn’t even take a breath. “A component of the rate meter I installed seems to be defective, and the cable of my soldering iron broke while I was working.”

He comes to a sudden stop, mouth half-opened but doesn’t resume his explanation. At a loss on how to react –and surely gaping at him considering you weren’t expecting to be slapped across the face by a presentation on neutron detectors, you whisper a small: “I see.”

A nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth makes your stomach drop.

“Uh, I mean; you can borrow mine!” You let out a tiny laugh. “I didn’t know psychology doctors also specialized in particle physics, is all.”

Ground control to Major Tom, your circuit’s dead, there’s something wrong, screams your forgotten Walkman.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dr. Spengler didn’t come back to your lab after your disastrous first meeting. He did return the iron, though. You simply found it on your desk one morning at seven o'clock, electric cable neatly wrapped around the handle.

You were secretly hoping for the doctor to come back to your lab to hand the iron back, so you could have apologized and asked more about his work, about his degrees… anything really. You had planned the interaction at least thirty times, going through a series of ice-breaking sentences that all relied on the fact that he would be back. He had preferred to avoid you, which couldn’t compel you to go see him yourself. Clearly, you had left a bad impression, and anxiety wouldn’t let you go look for him to apologize.

In the meantime, intrigued by his academic history, you started going through published papers by Dr. Egon – you quickly learned – Spengler. And if you thought you couldn’t get more curious about this mystery of a man, you browsing through numerous seemingly random articles – like ‘Quantum tunneling in anastomosis formations and nuclear exchanges’ – made you raise many eyebrows. Your fascination reached new heights with his brilliant article on ionizing radiation, written in M.I.T. no less. Egon Spengler had become the person you wished to chat with the most yet the most inaccessible.

You can think of a million questions to ask him, a million conversations to have. Why ionizing radiations? Did he have an interest in cosmic particles? Were his studies on gamma radiation related to his microbiology degree? How did he end up working in the psychology aisle of Columbia? Could ectoplasms really be quantified as a network of negatively charged particles?

Your life became filled with thoughts of the doctor, so you blamed it all on professional curiosity and you pushed yourself back into your work. Labs have been deserted by most researchers, preferring to treat themselves to a well-earned vacation. Nothing you can’t agree with in essence but previously attempted vacations had instilled a strong feeling of dread in you: you showed yourself incapable of not visualizing the amount of unfinished work. It’s not as bad as it sounds, really, to be work-obsessed; you love your work. Summer in Columbia is peaceful, solitary but also desperately unstimulating. Researching alone is undoubtedly slower, especially in your field, and knowing there’s an ideal candidate for some great brainstorming a few buildings away is nerve-wracking.

After an entire month going by with no new interaction with Dr. Spengler – not even sighting him at the corner of a corridor, the awkwardness that made him run away fuels your guilt. However, the opportunity of meeting again with Dr. Spengler comes unexpectedly. It comes with a mandatory meeting with the dean of the academy.

“You’ve been summoned as well, uh?”

You snap out of your social distancing trance. “Sorry?”

Next to you stands another professor with an easygoing smile and a relaxed stance. “Dean Yaeger. He likes to summon us like he’s royalty,” he jokes followed by a low staccato of a laugh.

“Oh,” you pointlessly say. “Yeah, he tends to do that.”

He offers his hand, showing another pearly-white-toothed smile. “I’m Dr. Ray Stantz, department of psychology.”

You offer your name back as you shake his hand. “Department of Physics.”

“Neat.” Dr. Stantz grins. “You should drop by our aisle sometimes. Spengs has a degree in physics; I’m sure you’ll get along well.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Egon Spengler, my colleague and friend.”

“Oh.” How you despise idle chatting. “I know him. He came to my lab to borrow a soldering iron about a month ago.”

“Venkman – our other colleague, forced him to go ask; he was so grumpy after being stopped in the middle of his experiment.” Dr. Stantz sure does enjoy making conversation. “He returned it, right?”

You have the impression he already knows the answer. “Yes, he did.”

“What field of physics do you specialize in by the way?” he asks excitedly. You have to say his jolly attitude is endearing, slowly getting you more at ease.

“High-energy physics.”

“That’s amazing, man. ‘actually wish I knew more about it. You should definitely swing by our lab soon. You can take a look at what we’ve–”

“Ah. Dr. Stantz.” Dean Yeager has the most distasteful expression on his face. “You may come in.”

Dr. Stantz gives you an apologetic look as Yaeger nods at you. You remain standing in front of the door, anxiety spiking up. Now you have no other choice than to go, or it’ll be rude, right?

Shit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It took you more than a week of conditioning to get your ass moving, leading you, once more, in front of a closed door. You have to say, this part of the psychology department is far from what you’ve imagined. You wonder what Dr. Stantz, Dr. Venkman, and Dr. Spengler did to offend Dean Yaeger to the point of being located in the university equivalent of a demilitarized zone. No wonder they need to borrow equipment from the physics department. The bright red ‘Burn in hell Venkman’ tagged on the door isn’t the most welcoming sight either.

You reluctantly raise your hand and knock four times. The shuffling you hear inside almost makes you run away. But thankfully – or miserably you’re still unsure about that one, an unknown man opens the door. Dr. Venkman, you guess.

A lazy smile stretches on his face. “Can I help you?” There’s a low edge to his voice, something that’s intended and practiced.

You try not to come out as too appalled. “I’m looking for Dr. Spengler.”

Dr. Venkman raises an eyebrow, and you immediately chastise yourself. At that moment, you see Dr. Spengler popping his head behind him and you lose your train of thought… and your words. “Uh, Dr. Stantz told me to–”

Dr. Venkman opens his eyes almost comically wide, pivoting slowly between Dr. Spengler and yourself. “Aaal-right. You know what; I have to meet up with Veronica of the literature department so– I’ll leave you guys to it.” He claps obnoxiously on his friend’s shoulder before departing, sliding past you while whistling some tune.

You watch him go, slightly distracted when Dr. Spengler grabs your attention again. “Dr. Stantz isn’t here today.”

“Ah, I see…” No wait–

“He’ll be here tomorrow at 8 am.” He angles his body towards the inside of the room like he’s wanting to go back to what he was previously doing.

“Actually,” you force out, heart at the edge of your lips. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

Only the small widening of his eyes behind his frames indicates his surprise because his voice remains soft-spoken. “Apologize for?”

Better to be honest than invent a stupid excuse he’ll probably spot immediately. “Yes, I clearly made you uncomfortable last time. I was only trying to idle-chat, but I’m terrible at it.”

“What makes you think you made me uncomfortable?” Dr. Spengler asks.

A few seconds pass. “…because I went out of my way by questioning whether or not you had the knowledge to speak about particle physics?”

“Did you?” You realize he’s probably genuinely asking, not as a way to rile you up but as a way to understand. Somehow, it calms your nerves. Just a little.

“No,” you say. “I’m sorry… you just looked upset when you left.”

He faces you completely this time, taking his time to answer. “Then I’m the one apologizing. I was grateful for your help, but I failed to show it.”

Some part of you wonders if it’s entirely true. You brush it off. “It’s alright. I guess we’re not good at understanding social cues, uh?”

He seems to be pondering something. “I’ve been told that before.”

You chuckle. There’s a tension off his shoulders, and you thank Dr. Stantz internally.

“I’m actually working on a prototype of particle thrower. Your input would be appreciated.”

“A what?!”

#egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters #ghostbusters reader insert #non binary reader

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dystopicjumpsuit · 4 months

Text

Double, Double Boil and Trouble - Part 4

A/N: This is part 4 my fic for the @rare-clone-fic-exchange, which I wrote for @goblininawig. The story takes place in a shared continuity with Stars Beyond Number, Martyrs and Kings, and “Do It Again,” but it stands alone and can be read independently of those fics.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Boil x Reader (GN; reader practices tasseomancy/reads tea leaves)

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI)

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings and tags: mysticism; angst; fluff; SMUT; oral sex; unprotected penetrative sex (can be read as either PIV or PIA; either way, pls wrap it up IRL); GN smut is hard to write, but I did my best 🫡

Summary: Things heat up in the Entertainment District.

Suggested Listening:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

It was too hot to sleep. You tossed in bed, sweaty and exhausted, as your emotions swirled chaotically and your thoughts scattered like runestones cast across a cloth. In the two days since the news had broken about Sarrish, you had drifted in an aimless haze. You couldn’t meditate; you couldn’t eat. You had tried reaching out for Boil’s presence in the Force, but either you were too unbalanced to focus, or he was too far away to sense.

You refused to consider the alternative.

After lying awake for hours, staring into the darkness, you gave up. You needed to get out of your stuffy flat and go somewhere with calmer energy. You rolled out of bed with a sigh and pulled on the lightest, coolest clothes you could find, then headed down the corridor to the shop. It was hotter in your reading room than your flat, but at least it was tranquil, and more importantly, you hadn’t spent the past week imbuing it with your anxiety.

Flicking on the dim lamp, you began to brew a cup of tea. The ritual of it was soothing: turning on the kettle; setting out your favorite cup; selecting a tea from your extensive collection; measuring out the leaves. Your body and mind fell into a familiar rhythm as you worked, your motions controlled and smooth. As the tea steeped, you practiced maintaining a smooth, even tempo of breath as you cleared your mind and focused your intention the way your grandmother had taught you.

I am present in this moment. I feel the heat of the water. I smell the scent of the tea. I feel the life within me, the planet beneath me, the galaxy around me. My mind is my own. I control my emotions. I control my thoughts. I am present in this moment.

I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.

The storm within you began to calm, but the strange sensation of imbalance persisted, as though your soul itself suffered from vertigo. With a final, deep inhale and exhale, you opened your eyes. The room still looked the same, but it hummed with a restless energy—or perhaps it was just you.

Keenly aware of the irony of drinking a cup of hot tea in the middle of the most sweltering weather you’d experienced since you emigrated from your home planet in Wild Space and moved to the Core, you took a sip. You’d selected a special blend that had been your grandmother’s favorite, and the taste of it instantly transported you to your childhood, the memories so vivid that it felt as though her spirit was with you in the room.

“Oh, Gran,” you whispered. “What am I going to do?”

You finished your cup slowly, waiting for an answer that never came. When you were done, you swirled the last of the liquid a few times and dumped it, then examined the leaves that clung to the cup.

Nothing. Gibberish. What is wrong with me?

You stood with a sigh and began to tidy up, washing your cup and saucer, then wandering through the rest of the shop, straightening crooked art; organizing the mess of flimsi behind the reception counter; arranging the various crystals, incense, teas and other merchandise into more attractive displays; and generally setting the shop in order to smooth the inevitable reopening day. Once you finished, you headed toward your flat.

Before you entered the corridor, though, you sensed a presence. Your spine prickled with awareness. You were being watched. Your heart began to pound as you came to a halt, turning slowly to face the transparisteel shop door. It was dark outside, but in the neon glow of the empty walkway, you saw a figure staring back at you, and suddenly, you knew.

You were at the door before you even realized you’d begun to move. You flipped the lock and wrenched the door open, and then he was on you, his arms wrapping you in a strong embrace as his lips crashed into yours. Boil’s kiss was all-consuming. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue swept into your mouth, drawing a deep, ragged moan from your throat.

His mouth was sweeter than anything you’d ever tasted, and he smelled even better than you remembered. Beneath the coarse wool of his uniform, his body was firm and solid and real and there with you, in your shop, not just in your imagination or your dreams. With fumbling, desperate hands, you unbuttoned his jacket and shoved it back off his shoulders. You reached for his belt and managed to get it unbuckled as he walked you backward into the shop, never breaking away from the kiss, but that was as far as you made it before he picked you up by the waist and set you on the counter.

At last, his lips parted from yours, but only so he could kiss his way ravenously down your jaw and throat, and all the while you clutched his head close to your body, reveling in the feeling of his soft curls beneath your hands; the heat of his lips and tongue on your skin; the cool, glistening trail he left behind. His mouth roamed down your chest until he reached the neckline of your tank top, and he started to tug up the hem of the shirt until he abruptly changed his mind and dropped to his knees before you, yanking off your soft, loose pyjama shorts.

He let out a hoarse groan as he saw the state of your heated arousal, already dripping with need. He paused, breathing hard as his eyes flicked up to yours in a silent entreaty.

“Yes,” you whispered, spreading your legs further apart to make room for his broad shoulders.

That single syllable was all he needed to hear before his mouth was on you, sucking, kissing, licking, teasing, taking you apart with agonizing precision. He shouldered his way under one of your legs as his hands gripped your thighs tightly enough that you knew there’d be marks the next day, but you didn’t care.

The only thing that mattered—the only thing that existed in the galaxy—was him. The way his lips moved on your sex; the way his tongue swirled over you, hot and wet and so kriffing good, as though he had dedicated a lifetime to learning all the ways and places you liked to be touched; and when his hand slid up the inside of your thigh to tease your sensitive flesh, you didn’t think at all. You simply reacted.

A wild cry wrenched from your lips as your fingers twisted in his hair, and your leg tightened around his shoulder, pressing him hard against you. He didn’t pull away, though; instead, his lovely, clever mouth went to work with even more enthusiasm, and within seconds, the pleasure burst through you in a powerful, uncontrollable orgasm.

He whimpered as you came apart in his mouth, eagerly swallowing everything you had to give him. He didn’t stop until your body finally stopped spasming, and you came down slowly from your high. With one final, soft kiss, he pulled away from you and stood, wrapping you securely in his arms as you rested your head against his chest, your uneven breath gradually returning to normal. You slid your hands around his waist and held him close.

“Hi,” you whispered.

He kissed the top of your head gently. “Hi.”

Later, as the two of you lay tangled in your sheets, you traced your fingers lightly over his bare skin, admiring the way his nipples hardened and the hairs on his chest stood on end in the wake of your caress. His dark, heated eyes watched you from beneath heavy lids.

“I’m glad you didn’t die,” you murmured, dragging your tongue over his nipple.

He laughed quietly. “Me, too. Would’ve been a shame to miss this.”

You kissed down his ribcage, and he flinched as you hit a ticklish spot.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned as he saw the spark of mischief in your eyes.

“Or what?” you asked with a wicked smirk.

Without warning, he flipped you over and pinned you to the mattress. “You think you’re the only one with tricks, darlin’?”

His hand stole down and dipped between your thighs. You were still slick with lube from your previous two rounds, and his finger slipped easily into your body.

“Maker, you’re insatiable,” you murmured. “Mmm, that’s nice.”

He worked you open slowly as he kissed a trail down your sternum, pausing briefly to detour to your nipples, and then continued down your abdomen. When he reached your navel, he flicked his tongue into it, and you nearly levitated off the bed with a shriek.

“Revenge,” he smirked.

“Evil,” you gasped.

“You started it.” He kissed a few more times until he reached your pelvis, and then he shifted to kneel between your thighs.

“I can’t believe you can still get hard after everything we’ve done,” you said, unable to keep the admiration completely out of your voice.

You reached down to stroke his cock languidly. He retrieved the bottle of lube and squeezed another dollop into your palm, shuddering a bit as you worked the cool fluid over him in smooth, twisting strokes.

“Kriff me, you’re good at that,” he groaned, then pulled your hand away. “Ease up, gorgeous, or I’m not gonna last.”

“That doesn’t seem to be a problem for you,” you purred. “Do all clone troopers have this stamina?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You tellin’ me you’ve never been with a clone before?”

You shrugged.

“In that case,” he grinned. “Nope. I’m the only one. The others are all minute men, probably can’t even go more than three or four times in a night—”

“You know that’s still a lot, right?” you interrupted his patently spurious monologue.

“Is it?” he asked, intrigued. “Natborns really are different, aren’t you?”

You slid your gaze leisurely down his body as he loomed over you. “That a bad thing?”

He eyed you with blatant hunger. “Not at all.”

He lifted your hips off the bed and pressed into you slowly. You let out a shaky breath at the sensation as he stretched you deliciously.

“Not even a little bit,” he whispered as he began to move. His pace was unhurried at first as he rocked into you, but gradually, he began to thrust harder, faster, as his hands wrapped around your hips and his fingers dug into your skin. “Hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

Exhausted from the three orgasms he’d already wrung out of you, you didn’t think you’d be able to manage one more, but Boil knew exactly what he was doing, and before long, he had you panting and writhing as your body began to tense and tighten around him.

“What do you think, love, will you give me one more?” his voice rumbled low in your ear. “I know you can do it.” He kissed your neck lightly, barely touching his tongue to your skin. “Just one more for me?”

“Yeah,” you gasped, your voice breathless and embarrassingly high pitched.

“Louder,” he growled.

“Fuck—Yeah,” you said, managing to project a little more. “Yeah—YES! FUCK!”’

Your back arched off the bed and your vision splintered into a thousand tiny shards as your orgasm slammed into you. Boil was right behind you, thrusting frantically as your body pulsed around his cock until he spilled, hot and deep inside you. He collapsed on top of you, and as the jagged puffs of your combined breath began to quiet, you gradually became aware of a distant, familiar sound.

It was raining.

When you awoke the next morning, your flat was at a comfortable temperature for the first time in days. You opened your eyes slowly to see Boil gazing at you, his eyes softly illuminated by the sunshine that poured in through your curtains.

“Good morning,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re adorable when you sleep.”

Please, Maker, tell me he’s not a morning person.

“Only when I sleep?” you asked, your voice hoarse and raspy with disuse.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Rude.”

“You’re stunning when you’re awake.”

You blinked, then looked away quickly to hide your confusion under a veil of snark. “Nice recovery.”

He laughed silently, then rolled over until he was lying on top of you, his waist between your thighs, his head resting on your chest as he pressed a kiss to your sternum. You rested your hand on his head and toyed absently with his hair. He let out a small groan of pleasure, so you began to massage his scalp and neck, tunneling your fingers through his hair and working over him until he whimpered.

“Holy kriff, how does that feel so good?” he mumbled against your chest.

“Have you never had a head massage before?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Don’t stop.”

Obligingly, you continued, until his body lay heavily on yours as though he’d completely melted against you. By that point, you’d been awake long enough that your brain had begun to function, and you had questions.

“Boil?”

“Mmm.”

You swallowed. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer right away, but you could tell by the way tension returned to his body that whatever it was wasn’t good.

“It was a massacre,” he said quietly. “I’ve never seen anything like it. So many…”

He lapsed into silence, and you continued to drag your thumbs lightly up and down the back of his neck. After a moment, he continued.

“After the retreat, they disabled long-range comms. Security reasons, they said.” A bitter note sounded in his voice. “More like they didn’t want anyone to find out how bad they karked up.”

So that’s why he hadn’t commed.

“I—I came straight here,” he said. “As soon as we landed.”

“You did?” you asked softly.

He nodded. “I needed…”

He trailed off, and after a few seconds you suggested, “To cut loose?”

He shook his head. “You.”

Boil had two full weeks of shore leave—the GAR apparently having experienced a rare moment of compassion following the disastrous and brutal Sarrish campaign—and he spent it all in your flat. Unfortunately, with the repair of the weather control relay station came the return of crowds to the Entertainment District, which meant that the shop was busier than ever.

Still, you spent every available moment with him and only threatened to toss him off the landing platform twice. You took him to your favorite charity shop and watched as he poked through the aisles in search of hidden treasure, his eyes alight with wonder.

Despite his grumbling, you noticed that he used the mug you’d bought him every time he drank a cup of caf, and you’d never felt as vindicated in your life as you did the day that you took an early lunch break and caught him lounging in one of your spectacularly gaudy bathrobes. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so often, or stayed up talking so late, or felt such complete and utter satisfaction as he gave you night after night in the bed that should have been too small for two people and yet somehow felt like the perfect size to share with him.

Your sense of imbalance in the Force persisted, however. You were relieved to find that you were still able to read the leaves for your customers—er—guests, but when you tried to do the same for yourself or for Boil, you encountered the same strange gibberish you’d seen the night he came back to you. You also still had difficulty meditating, though that could have had something to do with Boil’s habit of taking advantage of the opportunity to explore your body with his lips and hands.

One evening, as you rifled through your pantry cabinet in search of something more substantial than pastry to eat for dinner, you found the small tin of tea he’d brought you all those months ago. You gazed at it for a moment, then set it aside, an idea forming in your mind.

Later that night, as you lay in his arms, his fingertips drew patterns across your bare skin in the darkness, and you broached the subject tentatively. “Boil?”

“Hmm?” His voice was vague and sleepy.

“Do you remember that time when you told me you wished you could talk to Waxer one more time?”

His fingers froze, and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek halted abruptly.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

You took a deep breath. “What would you think if I told you there was a way?”

Ragu list:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal @reader6898

#clone trooper boil #clone trooper boil x reader #boil x reader #gn reader #star wars #the clone wars #star wars fanfic #tcw fanfic #Spotify

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lilaccatholic · 13 days

Note

Here to bother you. Pls tell me about your sacraments fic? If you want? Or any creative project you’ve got going

Okay I'm going to tell you about it because I'm so so stuck on how to end chapter one, but I have PRACTICALLY ALL OF CHAPTER TWO WRITTEN IN MY HEAD.

I'm going to be alternating povs (to who knows what effect, because while the illustrious Megan Whalen Turner is able to switch easily between third and first-person points of view in A Conspiracy of Kings, I am not her and merely a loyal subject) between Lucy’s first person point of view and the third person limited pov of Father Frank Carmody, a Canadian, and one of the first priests to brave coming over to England since The Problem reduced to nearly nothing. He's pretty much clueless about ghosts, but he has a whole lot of spirit (pun *absolutely* intended) and fire in his heart for the Lord. He's only intending to be in London for a few years, but I have a surprise for him 😈

The fic is going to cover Lockwood's experiences, either for himself or through other people, with each of the seven sacraments, and also last rites because I've got to make you all suffer (no telling WHO died though :) hehe) as seen through the eyes of Lucy and Father Frank, who is definitely going to become his spiritual father.

Other things I will include:

- George the chastity police!

- at least one joke about NFP because I'm nothing if I'm not traumatizing people with talk of cervical mucus

- angst and fluff!

- Holly as wedding planner

- Carlyle sisters!

- so much grief!

- Lockwood being so dad coded

- Easter Vigil!

- statues (insert gif of Sister Michael here)

- godfather!Kipps

-and so much more!

Also, because I've been taking five million years to get this out, here's the (unedited) first few paragraphs (subject to change!!!):

It was a nervous, if excited, trickle of faces that streamed into the parish hall at St. James’s one bright and blustery early October afternoon. Like all parish halls, it smelled faintly of chafing dishes and stale donuts, with a smidgen of whichever bulk cleaner was least expensive at the shops when the annual order was put in as an undercurrent to it all. Coloring pages of St. Francis of Assisi surrounded by animals graced a bulletin board near the entrance, courtesy of the youngest catechism class, with projects by the other classes lining the rest of the wall. The creaky wooden canteen tables which some parishioners swore were as old as the parish itself found themselves pushed to the side in favor of a large circle of folding chairs. Off to the side, a small table with tea, coffee and biscuits sat neatly by itself, ready to be partaken of. This was the scene Father Carmody entered into the day of the first meeting of the couples to be married in the next year at St. James’s.

Two by two, fourteen couples peeked into the room as though they weren't quite certain if they were in the right spot for marriage preparation, or would instead find themselves in the middle of the frowning semicircle of grannies in charge of plotting the advent coat drive and be drafted into their ranks. Relieved smiles bloomed on their faces as they spotted the cheery, sweater-wearing personage of Mrs. Hubbard, the parish secretary, at the attendance table. Once checked in, name tags written askew on, and pinned to shirts, they ambled across the chipped linoleum floors to snatch some refreshments, and mingled together until the newly familiar voice of Father Carmody called them all over to the circle of chairs that a Knight of St. Columba murmured he and his brother knights had a bloody awful time assembling the evening before, and took their seats in curious anticipation.

#lilac rambles #scribbles and snapdragons #Anthony Lockwood and the Seven Sacraments #asks #answered #answered asks #and rohan will answer

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blossom-hwa · 1 year

Note

Could u pls do san + a whispers of nature universe SEEING IT AS AN EXAMPLE PROMPT MADE MY BRAIN GO BRRRRR <3

well you see my friend. you're in luck because ever since I made that an example prompt I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT WAY TOO MUCH so here is the result. hope you enjoy <3 <3

5 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/TXT/Golden Child/Ateez/The Boyz member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

(check out the rest of the Whispers of Nature series here!)

REQUESTS OPEN!!

Title: A Mountain’s Patience

Pairing: San x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 933

Warnings: n/a

When Mother Earth made the mountains, She formed them to be rooted, grounded to her core. Solid, steady, strong.

And so very, very patient.

The thing about mountains is that they are not slow, as so many choose to think. True, they do not move the way the wind zips past the trees, the way water churns down a river, the way flowers sway in the breeze, every shifting, ever flowing. They do not welcome sudden movement, they do not welcome sudden change. But they are not slow - rather cautious, silent, ever listening, ever waiting.

Which is why, when San feels footsteps climbing up the side of his mountain on a dark night devoid of the moon, he does not act, does not chase the intruding guest away. Instead, he waits.

And come morning, when the sun rises and he emerges from the depths of the rock to observe the new presence in his woods, he feels the imminence of warm, warm magic settling gently into the earth, and he knows he has made the right choice.

For despite your midnight flight into unknown territory, you are no intruder. Far from it. During the days you take to settle in, San hears no screams of trees felled without warning, no jolt of the earth or cries of the forest to save them from harm. He watches, silently, a thread of his consciousness attuned to the area of his mountain where you have decided to root yourself, but not once does he find you attempting to desecrate the land of his spirit. Instead, you pay him reverence. Respect.

And magic.

It is rare that Mother Earth bestows Her blessing upon mortals. To this moment San still doesn’t understand Her reasoning behind it, why She chooses one but not so many others - it has never made any sense to him. But what he does know is that these mortals are often persecuted in their own communities for reasons he also doesn’t understand, and that they are endlessly thankful and respectful of the safe havens they find.

So a haven he decides he will remain, for you.

He doesn’t intend to meet you. As far as San is concerned, there is no reason to - you’ve coexisted peacefully for some amount of time and you have never given him cause to worry that your presence may cause his mountain home harm. But one bright afternoon he decides it would feel good to feel the sun on his face, feel the waters of Seonghwa’s river flow over his feet, and during that long, meandering trek down the river is when he meets you.

San hasn’t seen a mortal in a very long time, though from your expression, it seems that you’ve made somewhat of a habit of interacting with spirits. You recognize him immediately for what he is while San fumbles for a moment, surprise still a pinch in his heart. As he bows slightly in return for your respectful greeting, he expects that this will be the end of it, probably the only interaction you two will have in your lifespan.

But you are pleasant, kind, and - comfortable, San thinks, in a way that he doesn’t quite know what to make of. The magic you exude does not burn bright and harsh but seems to shimmer softly around you, a sense of home in every small movement you make. With water rushing over your feet, the wind sweeping your clothes, a soft kindness in your gaze...

As the afternoon flows on, San begins to understand that this will not be the last time you meet, not if he has anything to do with it.

But a mountain is patient, and a mountain knows to wait. Several years pass before San decides to profess his feelings on a walk along the same river you met on, promising a love as steady and constant as his own roots to the earth. There is a surprise, not altogether welcome - you ask for time with a troubled countenance to your expression, an unfamiliar hesitancy in your voice that unsettles him, but San is a mountain. A mountain is patient. And even unexpected changes can be absorbed over time, built into the structure of his roots, accepted as the days and weeks and years flow on, no matter how it originally hurt.

You explain, in time. A love that had turned sour when they discovered you were a witch, a love that faded when your village turned its back on your magic. San listens, understands the hesitancy that had plagued your words in that moment, and promises you all the time you need to process his own confession and choose whether to accept or reject it.

He is prepared to wait again. Years, he’d told himself - even if you never answer, he will be all right. But San finds you a week later at the river, a new determination in your eyes as you look at him, smiling under a torrential rain -

I accept you, you say, warmth in your every word. I accept you into my heart.

A mountain does not shift with the wind’s caprice, nor does it bow to the waters of the earth. It punishes sudden change, only eroding slowly over time. But it is not slow. It is not unmoving.

It is patient, for a patient spirit, it knows, will eventually reap its reward.

And with you in his arms, your hearts beating as one, San knows there could be no other reward in this world greater than this.

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obriengf · 2 years

Note

💔 with Stiles pls??

send me an emoji and dylan character for a headcanon ~ CLOSED

💔 : A breakup headcanon

*Inspired by that car scene in ‘The Spectacular Now’.

*Didn’t intend to make this so long.

*I’m issuing a trigger warning for yelling and intense negative self-esteem.

Stiles Stilinski’s heart was shattered in pieces after his first real breakup, and he had never recovered since. Just the thought tugged so viciously at his chest and pinched every nerve in his body. He would feel small and compressed, a mere dour speck of dust in such a large and progressing world. It wasn’t until he would remember that he was the cause of this agonising pain, that Stiles really let his heart disintegrate into thin air.

After years of wearing thin, his mind had been split, and Stiles quickly lost his grasp on steady thoughts and emotions. The desperation to save his friends from all things that go bump in the night started it, the Nogitsune being the one to toppel it all over. The boy was beginning to grow poor self-confidence in himself, eventually setting him to falsely believe that he can’t save anyone, that his skill set was non-existent, that he was nothing.

When you first propelled your way so goddamn easily into the empty space of his soul, Stiles immediately saw you as an ethereal saving grace. It was instant trust, instant love, a light that he needed so desperately and was lucky to be given so willingly. You believed in Stiles with every inch of your being. You made it your mission to always stand by his side and be the personal cheerleader that he deserved, to support his plans, no matter how outlandish. To remind the boy that he may be human, but a kind and loving human that only wants good for the people he claimed as his unique family. You had him, and he had you, entirely.

And then he ruined it.

It was a tough pack meeting that you both had just sat through - four long hours of plan devising and arguments about what to do next, worries and distress spelled so easily from each member as everything came to an unwanted standstill. Nobody knew which path to take, and nobody took it harder than Stiles. He always had the plan, he always saw the next path. He was the brains, but his lack of finding a solution was enough to drive him over the edge.

You could tell something wasn’t right immediately. His gaze were glued forward, body straightened and tense, no word was spoken since you had left to get into the Jeep. He was driving you home, but his thoughts were elsewhere; somewhere dark, you figured, by the furrowing of his brows and dampened flame behind his eyes. He was hating himself more and more with each passing second, and it would soon get to the point where even you couldn’t break through to him.

You sighed, “We’ll find a way, we always do.”

But all he did was scoff - of course you’d use your optimism against him, the boy perceived. You were the epitome of sunshine, and he was nothing more but everything dark and dingy that wasn’t even close to making the cut. “That’s bullshit, you know that, right?”

You hastily glanced toward Stiles, eyes widened in shock. He was never this broody when it came to you. You could see it now, so easily, how he was putting up his walls, brick by brick. It didn’t usually happen this fast - you always had time to pull him out of whatever trance the devilry of the world held so tightly over him... but now, it was beginning to seem impossible.

“Stiles. We can’t think like that, remember?” Your voice shook as you dared to reach forward, your fingers wrapping so cautiously around his wrist. Your warmth didn’t stay there long, though, with Stiles shaking you off. You gulped - swallowing down the lump in your throat before it became harder to breathe. This wasn’t the sweet boy you knew, as if the remnants of an evil spirit were clinging to his heart and mind so desperately, until they were strong enough to take over once more.

His self-esteem had been dropping but this was an entirely new low for Stiles.

You tried to steady your voice before your tongue darted to lap at the sudden dryness of your lips, “Don’t shut me out, Stiles. Please.” With hesitancy, you tried to reach for him once more, your hands sitting tenderly upon his taut shoulder. “I love you.”

“No you don't. You don’t love me.” He spat, his body only moving to rid your touch again.

“I do, of course I do! This isn’t you, sweetheart.” You didn’t want to beg, but it fell from your lips like a broken floodgate, the pain and confusion pulling at your heart now incredibly evident in your tone.

He scoffed again, his words following a laugh drenched with sarcasm, as if be didn’t believe you. “See? You don’t love me. You love the version of me that was composed, that knew what the fuck he was doing. The one who could save the people he cared about, not drive them into impending doom. I can’t help anyone, I can’t save you, I can’t fucking save anyone!”

You didn’t expect Stiles to start yelling, and you were quick to cower back against the door of the Jeep, arms instinctively wrapping around your frame as you shielded yourself. He was breaking, he was falling apart. He needed you but how can you help someone who won’t accept it?

By now, small droplets were falling over your reddened cheeks, so you began to sob, “Don’t you dare start that crap with me, Stilinski! I have always been there for you, through thick and thin. Whatever despair you’re feeling... it can get better, it will. I do love you, every goddamn part of you. We are good for eachother, you are good for me-”

“-SERIOUSLY?! Do you not see that I am bad for you?! For fucks sake, I can’t do this. You need to get away from me!” His voice continued to rise until you could feel the glass window behind you shake, the rumbling continuing as he pulled over to the side of the road.

You had to remind yourself that this wasn’t Stiles, this wasn’t your beautiful sweet boy that held you close at night and peppered your cheeks with sporadic kisses. This wasn’t the Stiles that laughed so dumbly at Saturday morning cartoons, and who made you soup when you were sick. This wasn’t the Stiles that created the true meaning behind making love, whose fingertips left fiery trails behind them as they explored every inch of your skin. This wasn’t him, but you were never going to let slide this malevolence that was dragging him down into a never-ending spiral.

You tried to stand your ground, even when he was reaching over to push open your door, his eyes still not looking your way. Perhaps he was disgusted in you for loving a monster, or perhaps he was scared that when you saw the pain that clouded his eyes, then you would choose to run before he could let you go himself.

“Get out.” He grumbled, the chill night air filling the interior and adding to your already shaky state. In his gut, he was screaming out for you to stay, but the badness that he saw so easily within himself was sure to ruin you. So, he had to make you leave, he had to make you hate him, just like he hated himself.

With no movement made, he slammed his hands against the steering wheel, “Get the fuck out of my fucking car!” He wanted to save you. If he couldn’t save you from the Supernatural, then he had to save you from himself. In the end, it all came down to you.

The screaming was enough to make you slip, your body awkwardly vacating the vehicle with your phone grasped tightly between whitening fingers.Your jacket remained slung over the seat, but you were too frozen to reach for it. He had never yelled at you. It was terrifying.

It took a second or two before his arm shot in your direction, the door now pulled closed, and the Jeep becoming a darkened blue blur disappearing around an upcoming bend.

Stiles was gone. The Jeep was gone. Your love... was gone.

#dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski headcanon #stiles stilinski fic #pressureprompts #this was sad and wild

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spicyicymeloncat · 2 years

Note

The Overlord lmao (for doodles/character discussion thingy)

The Overlord

Ooh what to talk about.

The overlord, in my opinion is… kinda boring. I mean he’s is and is intended to be really simple - the literal personification of everything bad in the world. Whilst this is kinda not great for world building reasons, the overlord is supposed to be more of a allegorical, symbolic abstract plot device and in the writer’s defence, they didn’t think they’d get renewed after s2 and thought that “the good must have evil” backstory was enough context for the world’s backstory. Disclaimer: I have yet to see crystalised part 2 so if idk if this ramble will become less or more relevant after that (also no spoilers about that pls)

The overlord is a pretty good symbolic plot device - he’s a ghostly manifestation of any issue that a viewer could see themselves facing and the story is about overcoming that problem and pushing through - hence “Ninja never quit”. Tbh in that sense, he’s a really good foil for the moral of s2. I think (although I’m no professional) good villains are those that specifically challenge the message of the story. So for example, if the story’s message is love wins, then the villain is written in a way that tries to disprove that idea and tries to say something else like “actually no, manipulating others while not caring about them at all is more effective”. So in Ninjago, the message is “No matter how hard life gets, always push forward and don’t give up! Ninja never quit” and s1 is all about the ninja pushing forward past what was holding them back, and gaining their true potential. S2 is all about how no matter what Garmadon throws at the ninja, no matter what challenges Lloyd faces in training for the hardest day of his life, they push through it and succeed. It’s literally the lyrics of the weekend whip. Meanwhile, the Overlord and Garmadon’s arc follow an antithesis of this: Garmadon has had to struggle all his life and eventually succumbs to his hardships and to the Overlord. His goal is, instead improving himself, but to bring the rest of Ninjago down and recreate it in his own image; make everyone evil and miserable like he is. That’s also the overlord’s power - to corrupt everyone in Ninjago and make them evil. These two characters try to bring the worst out of people in a show that says be your best self. So thematically the overlord is pretty cool. He’s the scary big bad that can be a metaphor for any looming, seemingly insurmountable problem we face in our day to day lives that threatens to turn us and the world for the worse.

However, whilst that’s a great concept, the in universe lore feels really unfinished. The overlord is literally a cloud of purple smoke that came out of nowhere and has decided that it wants to become a dragon and make people angry. The overlord doesn’t really have a past other than “he had to exist because balance bla bla” and he just pops in the second half of s2 as a device to ramp up the stakes of the villain (and save Garmadon from being held accountable). Tbh it’s been like a few months since I watched s2 so I might not be remembering the pacing exactly right but s2 was paced kinda weirdly and I wish the overlord had a lot more set up. Like simply knowing his existence earlier on would be nice. It would also be nice if he was a bit more… developed. Like what if the overlord is less of a sentient being and more like a disease that made people think worse, kinda like the scrolls of forbidden spinjitzu. Or maybe he is sentient and we touch upon his greed to take over more and more of the fsm’s territory. I mean I do like the theory and the overlord is part of the fsm master, since the fsm master was part Oni and dragon and the overlord is an evil spirit dragon. But that would mean that at some point the fsm master was a fully good person if he somehow severed his connection to whatever darkness the overlord is and Yknow I’m not too convinced just because I don’t think it should be that easy idk. Maybe at some point the fsm somehow severed all his connection to the Oni and dragons and became as mundane as an ordinary human, which is why he was able to die. Idk there’s definitely a lot of opportunity to explore the overlord and the fsm and I’m sure if they are the same person it only amplifies that metaphor about being a better you/worse you. Also the generational trauma of guys becoming evil…

It really would’ve been nice if they set the overlord up earlier in the season, since he’s supposed to be this mountain of a threat, I feel like that fear factor isn’t as effective when we don’t even know who is are why he’s showing up now of all times. Like maybe he’s someone even wu and Garmadon are terrified of because of his rivalry with their dad. Maybe Garmadon, every episode, hears whispers of the overlord, tempting him to become worse and worse whilst Lloyd is forced to watch from the other side of the battle field as his dad falls further away from being saved. These would not only add a really ominous and scary note at the end of all those fun quirky filler episodes at the start of s2 but increase the tension and add a sense of progression in the story. Idk the overlord is a little plain and I think he could’ve been spicier.

He’s not the most entertaining villain to watch, which is fine, as evil personified ig he doesn’t need that much of a personality. He’s got some oddly hilarious moments tho:

Not the overlord being self conscious about his appearance. He saw cryptor bullying mindroid and knew he wouldn’t survive. Overlord ashamed to be shorter than mindroid.

At this point I actually forgot he was in s3?? S3 was kinda a humbly mess anyways (and this post is ridiculously long), but I think something to mention is that, at the end of s3, the overlord actually won. If the overlord, from a writing perspective, exists to turn the protagonists into their worse selves, then he succeeded. He split the ninja up, and they quit. Even if he didn’t win, they still lost. And they should’ve totally gone with that angle yknow. I think the overlord could’ve been terrifying, I mean he controlled the whole city. Aesthetic wise the spider imagery is very fitting and I can tell it’s only gonna get better with the new season.

That is FINALLY all I have to say on the overlord. Sorry to have overloaded (ithinkimfunny) you with ramble but that’s just what happens. Not my favourite villain and I think he’s a little underdeveloped but he’s got his quirks and fulfils what he needs to.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago doodlarambla #doodlarambla #art #digital art #fanart #ninjago overlord #ninjago the overlord #damn this got long #he’s a goopy guy imo

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ef-1 · 8 days

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I've seen enough, someone pls send me Helmuts email

#pls take this in the spirit it was intended #f1 #daniel ricciardo #chinese gp 2024 #formula 1

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ladyimaginarium · 1 year

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okay so. here's the audio recording of me& doing my& best to explain my& story. although graphic images and descriptions won't be used, heavy content warning for discussions of csa, h.uman t.rafficking, antinative racism and genocide, specifically of our native girls, women and two spirited people, as well as our boys and men. viewer's discretion is heavily advised. i& only ask that mutuals & close friends reblog this and to not repost this without my& consent. for any natives out there who may read this: we& love you. we& support you. please take care of yourselves in any way you can, whether that's talking to a friend or trusted family member or calling a hotline such as the stronghearts helpline ( usa ) or the hope for wellness helpline ( canada ), where natives & all indigenous peoples in "canada" are offered services in both english & in french, or upon request, anishinaabemowin / ojibwe / ᐊᓂᐦᔑᓈᐯᒧᐎᓐ, cree / ᓀᐦᐃᔭᐍᐏᐣ & inuktitut / ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ & from personal experience calling there several times for my& own personal needs, their services are absolutely excellent, they have experienced and culturally competent counsellors that are reachable by telephone and online ‘chat’ 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, or smudging depending on your practice or doing something you love. i& know this week is hard for all of us, myself& included, even those who aren't personally affected, as an elder once described to me& that this is an overall intergenerational community trauma that affects everyone who's native, regardless of skintone, other intersecting identities or status. you are loved. i& love you. i& support you. i& just called the hotline just now for my& own needs & they are a tremendous help, and i& also smudged & did the sacred ceremonies. please check out this mmigw2s carrd for resources and this mmigw2s google document for information. i& will be sharing more statistics i've& found over the years later today & possibly things i& felt like i& may have missed in the audio & likely for the rest of the week. my& name is angel & i'm& the host/core/singletsona of the imaginarians galaxy, an indigenous indigiqueer & two spirited professionally dxed udd system & a medically recognized multigenic did system; today is a very important for us&, although we& don't personally know anyone who's gone missing or murdered, but bc all natives are related & are interconnected with each other & bc family is more than who you're genetically related to, it hits really close to home as a two spirit person & the intergenerational trauma hits hard. please understand that we& don't intend on hurting anyone while telling my& story as i& only have my& own experiences but if i& get smth wrong, n.atives, pls correct me&, and we& ask that nonnatives wear red today to honor those who went missing & murdered. if you want to ask questions, you can contact us& on discord, 【 𝕬𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐀 ♥ 】||【𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓘𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓼】#2830, just make sure to let us& know who you are first, i& will not be answering publicly for our& own mental health, but make sure to compensate us&, i& will not be answering questions freely especially ones that are so traumatic at the expense of my& health, trauma & emotional exhaustion. find out who's land you're on. support native artists and creatives. fight for our rights. fight for our land back. just be aware that i& can only offer our& own experiences as a white seeming reconnecting two spirited urban native bodied system. if you want to donate, you can donate here to our& p.ayp.al, but keep in mind that you are absolutely not required to donate anything ever, however, if you want to leave a donation, i’m& keeping that option open, i& am grateful for anything, but please never feel like you absolutely have to, if you feel like people in your online/offline communities have more urgent needs and therefore should be prioritized in terms of support, absolutely please feel free to help them instead/first ( if you have the funds to help multiple people, anyway! ) NO MORE STOLEN SISTERS & SIBLINGS. EVERY CHILD MATTERS. LAND BACK.

#arcana.txt #mine.#tw; antinative racism #tw; genocide #tw; long post #tw; human trafficking #tw; csa #** topic; missing & murdered indigenous women girls boys men & two spirits.#this was. really difficult for me& to record so please be respectful.#i& d.issociated a lot too. OOF

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willsimpforazula · 2 years

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fight night part 1(?)

remember that wip of the steambabies being rebellious and shit...? well it seems that plot bunny just won't die even after dropping the tsar bomba on it so here it is....part 2(part 1.1? idk anymore time is a social construct) anyways.....

*someone pls halp glib title inspo many tanks

Locker room

Warehouse 8, West Port

Republic City

"I'm starting to think that you get a kick out of bossing me around." Miska sighed, as he bent the water back into the waterskin, glad to be done fixing up the myriad of cuts, scraps and sideburns that his sister picked up after a night of street bending tournaments.

"Only took you twelve years."

"I swear by the spirits if half the boys knew what the real you looked like, they wouldn't be simping for you as hard as they are now."

"Don't forget who set you up with her. You owe me for that."

"At least she doesn't volunteer you for underground bending cage matches."

"So boring." she tutted.

"I'd like to not spend the night in the police holding cell, thank you very much. Besides, even if the cops don't get us, dad would skin us alive, to say nothing of what mom would do." Miska countered, a shudder running down his spine as to the myriad possibilities that awaited them should they be caught.

"If they find out."

"You think they wouldn't know?"

"We'll be fine. Besides, I've got standards to maintain and you've got someone to support."

"You make it sound like she's like my wife or something."

"Wouldn't you want to put a ring on that finger?"

"Well….I mean, yes, but we're like sixteen so no?"

"But there's a plan right? Because if you don't and break her heart…."

"Umm yeah you're not breaking anything, not in the state you're in."

"I hate it when you're right." Risa mumbled, reluctantly conceding the small victory to her brother.

"Once again, the younger sibling provides a voice of reason and rationality as the Spirits intended."

"Whatever makes you happy."

"Was that metaphorical or an actual question? Because if it is, I'd be really happy if we got paid about right fucking now."

Before Risa could come up with an equally snarky retort, a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and she immediately reached under the bleacher, where she stashed a throwing dart in case anyone wanted to even the score post match.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Su."

"Come in."

"You look way too tense for someone with a seven straight win streak. You should be proud of yourself." she commented, arms folded across her chest as she surveyed the scene, pleased with how the match results turned out.

"I don't like that tone of yours. Where's the cash?"

"About that….."

"Don't play fuck fuck games with me. I sure as hell ain't putting my neck on the line for seven nights for free. Do you or do you not have it?"

"Did your brother ever tell you you've got a hair-trigger temper?"

"I'll answer your questions as soon as we get paid and we're all out of this joint, I can't shake the feeling some sore loser is going to do something stupid."

Shaking her head, Suyin tossed a small bag of cash to them.

"It's all there, I swear on the badgermoles."

"Pretty sure I saw more cash exchanged hands than this." Miska snorted as he counted out the money.

"Well y'know, I had to pay off my debts and all that jazz as well. Plus, do y'know how much coin I had to front for each of your matches?"

"For a Beifong I thought you were supposed to be good with money." was Risa's reply.

"Ha ha very funny. I held up my end of the bargain, you did yours so I'd say we're done." With that, Suyin exited the room, to which they both breathed a sigh of relief.

"Could you stand up?"

"Please, I'm not that fragile."

"Then don't come looking for me the next time you get into a scrap. Now let's go home and pray to the spirits mom or dad aren't still up."

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

Forty-five minutes later….

"No we're not taking the elevator."

"Why not?"

"You do realise the elevator goes directly to our front door right?"

"And?"

"What if mom or dad is awake?"

At this, Risa put on her kicked puppy face and pleaded "My legs hurt."

"Sucks to be you."

"Pweese?"

"Fine….we'll take it up to the second last floor. That's it."

"Are you-"

"Absolutely not."

"I'll pay you extra ten yuan."

"Thirty."

"Fifteen."

"Twenty-five, plus forty percent of my share up front."

"Such an extortionist." she grumbled, reluctantly pulling out her brother's cut. Guess that fancy dress will just have to wait, she sighed internally.

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

Next morning,

Risa's door

Having mentally consoled herself in the shower by settling for a new set of earrings and a pair of heels instead of the outfit that she'd been eyeing for over a month, Risa flopped onto her bed and fell fast asleep, tiredness hitting her like a sledgehammer. Consequently, she didn't hear her alarm clock screeching at her in disapproval, nor the knocking on her door by Azula, who was rather concerned that her normally punctual kids were nowhere to be seen when it was time for them to catch the tram.

Whilst Miska was relatively easy to rouse from sleep, she knew that her daughter was in some respects, an equal to her own temper if her sleep was disturbed. Granted, she had mostly grew out of it but the scorch marks that Sokka somehow managed to disguise as part of the wall painting was a reminder that there was a fire-breathing dragon under her Water Tribe features.

Then again, it takes a dragon to tame a dragon.

"Risa, wake up or you're going to be late."

"Risa!"

"I'm coming in on three. One, two…"

Bursting into her daughter's room, she found a mass of blankets and pillows rising and falling steadily atop a large bed. Striding purposefully, she walked over to shake her awake when out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a large thick envelope sitting on her dressing table that looked suspiciously like money. Filling that away for later, she firmly grasped her daughter's shoulder and shook her, earning a groan and a clumsy attempt at swatting away the rude intrusion on her sleep.

After two minutes of constant nagging and shaking, Azula decided enough was enough and she ripped away the protective layer of blankets, exposing her to the nippy autumn air, which seemed to have done the trick. On the downside, Azula was definitely sure she and her daughter were going to have a long talk about the usage of certain words given her parents' status, namely chieftain and princess respectively in addition to being councillors of Republic City.

With having been so rudely (in Risa's opinion) awakened, her instinct was to hurl a fireball at the offending part while cursing their family lineage, she reluctantly sat up and blinked a few times before the images that her eyes were beaming back registered in her mind. It took a few seconds more to realise that her mother was in fact, not looking very pleased and a few more precious seconds to grasp that she had essentially cussed out her mother, who was currently rolling said fireball back and forth between her fingers like a coin.

"Oh shit."

"Oh shit indeed, young lady. I ought to wash that mouth of yours with extra strength detergent."

Taking a gulp, Risa did not dare look her mother in the eye and mumbled an apology, half expecting her mother's palm to make contact with her cheek at any moment. Instead, she heard the sound of the door closing and her mother's footsteps heading in the direction of the dressing table.

"So…care to explain to me exactly what this might be?"

"That's….um…money?"

"Indeed, it is." Pulling out the wad, Azula briefly counted before placing it back on the dressing table. "Care to explain how exactly it is that a sixteen year old is suddenly in possession of what, nine thousand yuan if my count is correct?"

"I-well, there was-"

"Based on the eyebags around your eyes, the half healed bruises on your arms and legs and your overall state, I'd wager you were in an underground bending match last night? I can recognize your brother's healing work, so don't lie. Did you or did you not compete in such matches?"

"Y-y-yes mother."

"And what made you decide this was a good idea?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." she replied, embarrassed by her own answer.

"Come again?"

"I said it seemed like a good idea at the time." Risa repeated, her face in her hands, half expecting her mother to go ballistic from her answer.

"Tell me the truth, Risa. Who set you and your brother up? Look, I won't lie that I am very very disappointed with what you've done but I need to know to protect you from any potential blowback."

"Su-Suyin did. She needed my help with-with some money problems and-well, she promised me a cut."

"And it didn't cross your mind that maybe there was a catch or that you could be seriously hurt?"

"That-that's what Miska was for."

"So you thought far enough ahead to rope your brother in as a healer but not that you'd get seriously hurt or Agni forbid, killed in one of these matches?"

"I didn't think about it. I mean, you're like the world's best firebender, s-so so um…yeah I really, really, really screwed up didn't I?" Risa answered, face still hidden in her hands while internally cringing at the very words exiting her mouth.

Taking a deep breath, Azula weighed her options. Either she could discipline her daughter and son the way she and Zuko were when they were kids or use a different means of getting the point across (the means of which was yet to be determined, but definitely Sokka was getting roped in; they were his kids as well after all). Mulling in silence, she contemplated the pros and cons of each decision, whilst Risa stewed in nervous silence.

"Y-y-you're not going to disown us or kick us out of the house, are you?" her daughter asked timidly, unable to bear the silence any longer. Hearing her voice, she could almost picture the nervous quiver in her lip and tears that were held back but only just. At this, motherly instinct took over and she embraced her, patting her on her back while she sniffled and sobbed.

"Not in a million years, your father and I will never do that."

"Really?"

"Really. That being said, there still will be consequences. For starters, I am confiscating your prize money and donating it all to charity. No if ands or buts. Now go wash your face while I talk with your brother."

#kiddos done messed up #sokkla #steambabies #azula and sokka's kids #twins #risa and miska are my ocs

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