#basically exactly how a bike helmet works

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Belle you keep teasing us with the hell on wheels au and I am here to beg most politely for some tiny crumbs. What is this treat you have cooking up for us in your big big brain????

Well...the explanation is very long but basically Augh Motorcycle Helmets Big Sexy.

So it's just Vibes at this point but grew into something more, especially after @miasmaghoul posted about mechanic Cirrus fucking Swiss. I adopted that immediately into what is now known as the Hell On Wheels Au, the barebones of which have been rattling around in my brain for about a year but exploded with thoughts quite recently.

The Ghouls are a Satanist Biker Gang that fully leans into the aesthetic, party at bars and get into fights but during the daytime? They rev their motorcycles and stand in court rooms as kids testify against their abusers. They work in partnership with local community support groups, have domestic violence flyers up in bathrooms, even have their own local version of an Angel Shot called a Devil Shot where one will pick you up from the bar if you've been roofied and takes you to the hospital while another hunts down the lowlife who did it and gives them a little talking to. Violence isn't usually involved since they have a reputation but they're fond of saying they never forget a face. Interpret that how you will.

This all evolved from a Vibes Based Daydream I had where Dew's bike broke down so he had to be Ifrit's backpack. And when they pull up at a red light, Ifrit's old chapter leader Alpha is there and he tells Dew "Killswitch him, it'll be payback for (something completely fucking made up)" EXCEPT when Dew hops off and turns the key to shut down the bike, the light turns green and Ifrit hollers something at Dew before popping a wheelie and racing away, leaving Dew to sweat nervously in the fish bowl distortion of his own reflection in the helmet glaring down at him.

"Get on." Alpha says gruffly and Dew seriously contemplates running before Alpha revs his bike again and growls "you run and you're fucking out." Because their whole thing is facing consequences, right?? So Dew's his passenger princess and Alpha takes him out of town on a backroad to a tall grassy knoll where Dew thinks he's going to be buried and parks his bike.

He meets the bookkeeper, a hulking retired boxer known in his glory days as Omega and they chat as Alpha looms threateningly in the background.

Notes: Swiss and Ifrit ride 1000cc sports bikes whereas I'm going for a more classical, solid build for Alpha. Or a chopper. Can't decide.

"This is all I have." I said to Miasma, but it proved to be a lie as my brain is forever a hamster running desperately on a wheel.

Swiss harasses the corrupt police force (defroque is the sheriff's son??) with Ifrit and Sunny, they do a lot of night rides with no plates and lead them in goose chases after triggering speed traps. Drop a gear and disappear, baby.

Aether does a lot of charity stuff and mostly works with local food banks to be a one man Meal on Wheels (ok...yup. get it out) for elderly and disabled folks. He dreams of owning a food truck with his buddy Mountain but right now he's happy to show up to court with a saddlebag of whatever he thinks that little tyke might appreciate or need.

Mountain is the son of a local cafe owner Terra, who was quite the hell raiser in her heyday but now is content to enjoy her retirement with her partners, Ivy (agoraphobic landscaper) and Pebble (weed dealer). He has a sidecar he brings Rain and Zephyr to work in. Rain's got a fruity little scarf.

Aeon as the new kid in town working two jobs to afford a bike of his own, Imperator as a lawyer/ex pinup model because learning is expensive. Copia is her assistant/son determined to make his mother proud but also can't help but wonder why exactly she chose to work in this distant town and what her relationship is to that decrepit old man sitting in the park, feeding the birds from his wheelchair and seems to know an odd amount of detail about a certain tricycle, hidden away in the depths of the shed. Copia doesn't like talking to him. Nihil knows too much and yet, can't remember anything at all.

Aurora is someone who prefers to pedal around town on her old mountain bike, vlogging her downright dangerous escapades that make seasoned motorcyclists sweat (motocross? BMX? She just likes her old bike. She does delivery for local restaurants and is a living legend in delivery times. Aeon's also into free running/parkour/skateboarding and they have a friendly...? competition over completion times.

Cirrus restores cars as a hobby and is a mechanic with Cumulus, who specializes in paint jobs on top handling the books and stock. Swiss loves it when she fucks him Amazon style on her prize restoration car (model make and year TBD) and he tells her about this little delivery biker who popped a forward wheelie on the other side of a red light, did something complicated that involved walking on her front wheel and stepping on the pedals before setting the bike frame easily back down and pedalling calmly past Swiss. Cirrus knows her of course, but Swiss hasn't earned that knowledge yet. Or his orgasm.

Sunny works in the shop too as an apprentice.

Cumulus likes to flirt with Mist, who owns the local dirt track. "As much as anyone can own a dirt field." Mist says. She's a water-skier, wheels aren't her preferred mode of speed.

The Emeritus family crossed over from Italy sometime in the last couple centuries. Ask anyone and they'll tell you where the real power in the city lies, with the unholy Trinity of the three offspring. But here, see, that's on the down low, see? One of them has to be Papa Emeritus, that enigmatic and rarely seen figure, who takes care of people who put their faith in him and that's more than the local priest ever does. Funny how that church building gets fancier and fancier every year while Mrs. Abernathy down the street can't even afford her medical bills. You know they're holding a fundraiser to build a heated hallway from the rectory to the church because Defroque slipped and fell on the ice last winter and now he's whining about needing a safe path to the building?

Be a real shame if something happened to all that money. Can you imagine Father Jim slipping every Sunday? Not that he's stable any other day of the week, mind you. I get the feeling, those prayers retreats of his....Mmm. but that's just gossip.

Ah well. You know, this is a quiet little town when all those bikers aren't revving their engines. But there's stories to be found in it, if you're willing to wait and be patient. Good things, and all that.

#Hmm... that's about everything. did i overshare? perhaps. will anything ever get written of this? maybe. but now it's out there. #and now you know. #you know im waffling back and forth on allowing reblogs for this...this is basically the Lore Bible #but who knows if everyone's stories will be told in a timely manner. so...i guess you can reblog it. #for now.

[burnwater13]

Tie Fighter firing on a Trexler- Marauder troop transport on Nevarro, with Stormtroopers firing on the transport from speeder bikes. Concept Art by Ryan Church. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 4, The Siege.

There were times when Din Djarin thought he knew exactly what his foundling was thinking about. Then Grogu would coo, chirp, or hiccup and the Mandalorian would realize that he really had no idea what was going on behind those big brown eyes. It was frustrating. It was disappointing. It was… what every parent went through at some point in the span of raising a youngling, according to the few people he knew who had children to raise. 

“Did Ahn or Rha ever do that sort of thing to you?” 

He asked his friend from Tzura sat next to him on a seat at the Cin Vhetin’s long wood surfaced bar.

She laughed softly. Nice.

“Of course they did. What is worse, their father did that as well. Everyday I was working at the cascades I would tell them to take the long path and not cross the creek. Every day I would have to suspend the work because they were taking the creek path. I found it very frustrating until I missed that behavior desperately. What brings this up? Grogu has become very effective communicating with you in sign and Gal Basic.”

Din Djarin sighed. He hadn’t meant to remind her of such a sad time in her life. 

“I was just thinking about why we are here. How many secret bases did the Imps have anyway?”

He tipped his helmet up and took a sip of his ferment while he waited for her response.

“As many as they could build as fast as they could build them. You know the Emperor was obsessed with cloning. He thought, for some reason, that his clone would be just like he was, so they put a cloning base everywhere the Force, the Sith, or the Jedi had ever had a temple, a monument, or a significant battle. His warlords all did the same if they could and for the same reasons. But what does that have to do with Grogu?”

The Mandalorian took another sip of his ferment. Grogu was visiting his best friend on Ordo, which meant he was at Lacc Straso’s place causing trouble. 

“I was talking to Lacc yesterday and remarked on the trip Grogu and I made to Nevarro after the mess the New Republic made of the Razor Crest. Grogu overheard one of my comments, walked over to me and pinched me. It didn’t hurt, but still, he’s never done anything like that before.”

Ta’lan Bet laughed, louder and with great mirth. The Mandalorian shook his head. He shouldn’t have told her that part. 

“You should always tell me that part, my friend. I suspect that Grogu was providing some long delayed feedback on your priorities at the time of that event.”

“My priorities?! My priorities were to find his people, which meant that I had to find a Jedi. Which was something like telling me to go find the lost mask of Ordo.”

Din Djarin didn’t care if he sounded grumpy. He was grumpy. His first priority was taking care of Grogu. It was always going to be about taking care of the foundling, come what may.

“Oh, that thing? I can get it for you if you really want it.”

Ta’lan took a deep drink of her own ferment while the Mandalorian found himself frowning at her. She made light of so many impossible things, but then he’d seen her do an impossible thing or two since they’d met. As had Grogu. 

“You know what I mean and I don’t want to be Mand’alor.”

“You know I was joking. I promised Seb I’d leave it right where I put it for safe keeping. Any way, Grogu was a Jedi youngling for many more years than he has had under your care and guidance. The Jedi were perfectly happy to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Even when they didn’t stop to think about what the greater good would be. He probably thought that you should have been hunting down the people who damaged Mandalore and the rest of the galaxy as the best good to be done for all foundlings. He’s a very modest person. He never thought he would mean as much to you as he does. He does not think he’s worthy of you.”

Wow. That was a surprise. And why did Ta’lan Bet know all that and he didn’t? Dank farrik! All because he did Greef Karga a favor and followed the Creed. If he could have done a thorough search of Nevarro he would have. He had suggested it more than once and the Armorer forbid it. The foundlings came first. Always. This was the Way. 

Din Djarin fell silent until a plate of fire stacks appeared before his friend and she began to eat them with a semi-mechanical efficiency that he sometimes envied. The rest of the time he asked her which of her ba’buir’s was a barghest. 

“He’s more than worthy. You know that. Why doesn’t he?”

His question wasn’t just to stop her from eating his favorite treat. He wanted to know what she knew about his son and apprentice.

“People forgot him, Din Djarin. He left the Temple and was hidden, but as time went by the people who knew who he was and what he meant to the Force and the future were gone. Those who should have known or been told were consumed by other work. After all, Ahsoka Tano didn’t step out of the shadows to meet you. Bo-Katan set you on her path. The same for Luke. They should have known to look for him, but they didn’t. He is still learning that he matters. That you and the people who know him now will never forget him.”

“I don’t know how they could do that. He’s unforgettable.”

“Spoken like a true father. Would you like another fire stack? I can hear Lacc and Grogu heading this way. Who taught him that particular Mandalorian drinking song?”

His friend asked as she waved the bartender over.

Now it was his turn to laugh. He and Lacc had brought Grogu to a Smash-ball game and there was no way to keep him from learning that song. It was unforgettable just like Grogu. 

#calendar prompt a day #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu

[scorchedhearth]

imma hit you with a question myself RN!!

I think you mentioned an oc that you thought of and created more as not a part of a story or a narrative but more of as something to reflect yourself onto. I would love to hear more about them<333

also also tell me about Trent and him being pyromaniac!!! i think you mentioned that he's trans so do those two things like connect to each other in any way???

rye thank U!! mwAH xo

alright so. the oc ur thinking of that i mentioned in the post ended up way too clear of a mirror for me to comfortably talk about him in public but, in the meantime, seeing just how fun those kinds of meaningless ocs are, another crept up on me and she is SO fun u have no idea.

she's basically a frankeinstein monster of all the tropes i think are cool as hell, she's a knight turned rogue-slash-mercenary, she's covered head to toe in armor and the rare time she loses the helmet the armor still comes up to her chin and she's ugly, disfigured by a tough life and many battle-earned scars (no pretty face hidden under a helmet here, and she's in her late forties), she's in the possession of a sentient weapon that is craving blood and violence and is always in a frenzied state of rage like no being in the universe could and she uses it to draw blood for her own revenge, she's what i wish all those 'please kill me' scenes in media ended with: while held captive with her brother, he begged her to kill him before they could and she did and they stopped her from killing herself and so now she has to live knowing she took her own blood's life and she's left alone in the world feeling so guilty she did as she was asked to.

also, she exists in a schodinger's cat state of both being a high fantasy rogue knight AND a sci-fi rogue soldier where her weapon is both a big sword and a cool gun and her armor is both a knight's armor and a space suit and her ride is both a big horse and a derelict bike. and she wants revenge on an old flame (obsessive love she swore fidelity to decades ago) who directly caused her brother's death. she's so gruff and mean and exhausted by life itself and still she clings and keeps on going out of spite and honor. she's great <3

as for trent, yeah!! they do, and in a major way! trent was at first conceived many years ago as part of an x-men-like plot with super-powered kids and his big discovery of firepowers was linked to coming out to his parents and blowing up the whole family home when it went wrong out of grief and anger. now as a very normal guy, they're still linked for me.

he started feeling something was wrong in his late childhood but had no way to word or understand what was happening to him, and his background in a struggling family with many siblings meant that he couldn't come out with what was wrong with him, be it being trans or any other problems young kids have (issues at school where he had troubles learning, for example) because they were more important issues at hand than his own, so he internalized things a lot and when it eventually came to a breaking point for him, he used fire to bleed out the wounds. pyromania is an impulse control disorder, arsonists set things on fire for a reason (glory, money, revenge, etc) where the distinction here is made is that pyromaniacs use fire as a way to release stress or soothe themselves, which is exactly what trent did, and still does.

trent is characterized by being withdrawn and intense, and so fire is the one instance where he lets things out. he cannot verbalize things well, nor can he confront or work things out on his own, so when the frustration boils over (because he is hot-headed and opinionated, despite his quiet behavior) he gets the urge to set things on fire. it was harder to deal with it as a teen with his family around, and with little to no control over his life, but as an adult now he can go burn things whenever he needs to. he never saw a psychiatrist for it, doesn't think there's something wrong with him for that, he only got caught once as a teen and passed it off as a dare he did with friends, he doesn't know how many wider fire he caused because of his activity but it happened more than once when burning bigger fire. i somehow always conceptualize his relationship with fire and gender to be linked, both because that's how i first came up with the character but also it feels right, that trent hides his identity as best as he can but it always catches up with him, the idea of burning bridges with his family is a strong one with him, as is the contained fire ready to spread if the glass is broken

#thank u so much <3 it's fun talking about them!! #put a read more because i've got a lot to say <3

[softquietsteadylove]

Hi :) I read all of your prompts here and I really love them all! So I was thinking how about and hospital Thenamesh AU? You choose if both are doctors or one of them being a doc and the other one a patient!

Pretty sure you will write something great!

"Just look at them."

"You mean look at Gil."

"I bet when he does CPR their bones are just shattered."

Thena huffs, slapping down the tablet with her charts (that is exactly why they have shock absorbent cases). "Are you going to actually help with the incoming patients?--or would you prefer to stand around them and watch them save lives instead of participating?"

The various interns and a few nurses scurry to cover up their open appraisal of their colleagues. "S-Sorry, Doctor."

Thena just rolls her eyes at them. It's a phenomenon in the ER that the EMTs and paramedics are the desired dating pool for anyone looking. And unfortunately for Thena, her emergency room is the hub for such dating pools. "Tell me what we've got."

"Kid fell off his bike, has a pretty nasty lesion from it," she gets briefed, receiving the necessary information. "He'll live, but we told him to prepare himself mentally to get stitched up."

Thena looks up at Gil as he gives her the lowdown on her patient. Gil is such a softie at heart, and he absolutely has a weakness for kids. She smiles, "did you tell him he was coming to see the scariest trauma specialist in town?"

"Nope, but I did tell him my very good friend Thena would take extra good care of him," Gil beams right in the face of her cynicism and snark with upturned eyes and full cheeks. He leans down to whisper, "especially since one his dads has been panicking the whole way here?"

"I see," Thena nods with a sigh. She's not the best at dealing with those accompanying her patients; she's not exactly known for her bedside manner. "You've talked to them?"

"Tried," Gil shrugs, still walking with her as the young man gets taken down the hall and transferred from his stretcher to a proper bed. "You know how parents can be."

"Yes, I certainly do," Thena mutters, speaking quietly and quickly with Gil as she prepares to deal with her least favourite part of her job. She pulls on a pair of gloves, "but usually your charm is more effective at subduing them before they reach me."

"Maybe I'm losing my touch."

"I doubt it," she gives him a coy little smirk as she sits on her stool and wheels it over to the boy. "Hello, Jack. My name is Thena, I'll be stitching you up tonight."

The kid sniffles a little but nods, putting on a much braver face than one of his fathers.

"Where did that nice paramedic go?" the panicky one asks, his glasses moving on his face as he looks around.

"Gil has to brief the nurse's station on their run and release their equipment so it can be restocked for the next one," Thena answers straightforward as she starts her most basic examination of both Jack and his injury. "How did this happen, hm?"

"Riding around with those hooligans, that's how!"

"Dad," Jack sighs up at his anxious father. He looks at Thena again, "we were taking turns going down the big hill by the old library. I guess I hit a rock or something, and..."

"You know," Thena looks at Jack with the smile Gil tells her is more effective than she thinks it is, "it's a good thing you were wearing a helmet when this happened. Or I'd be stitching up...all this-"

Jack laughs away the rest of his tears as Thena motions to the general vicinity of his head.

"Okay," Thena looks at Jack as she picks up her scissors, "are you ready?"

Jack looks at his parents and their held hands before nodding.

"Sorry," Thena mutters as she cuts his pants at the knee.

"I never liked those jeans anyway."

"Phastos, please," one husband says to the other, who physically zips his lips.

Thena lets out a faint laugh as she knots her line and takes her sutures in hand. "Did Gil tell you about how things work?"

Jack nods, watching her with her hooked needle anxiously.

"Gil told me that he already applied the topical anaesthetic," Thena explains, although she remembers after the fact that she needs to use more everyday terminology. "The numbing cream is going to help with the pain, okay?"

"Okay."

"How's...this?" Thena asks, applying some very light pressure on the cleaned wound's edges.

Jack squirms, "it kind of stings a little, but it's not as bad as I thought it would be."

"It's okay to be scared," Thena says as she makes the first bite and anchors her monofillament. "But this is just going to ensure that your scrape here heals properly."

"Jack, how we doin'?" Gil asks as he rejoins them, leaning over Thena's shoulder as she works. "See?--didn't I tell you she's the coolest doctor in the place?"

"She's pretty cool," Jack concedes, less tense as he looks at Gil instead of at Thena sewing up his shin.

"Gilgamesh, I am trying to work," she says in a light tone, since they both know she could complete Jack's suturing with her eyes closed.

"It's been a quiet night," he shrugs, winking at Jack, who laughs. He looks at his fathers again, one of whom seems to appreciate his sense of humour (the other one is just trying to breathe). "Don't worry, Doctor Thena here is the best at what she does. I trust her with my life."

"Don't let him fool you," Thena murmurs as she throws her next knot, "most of the people I get in here already have the benefit of his care before they even see me. I quite literally couldn't do my job without him."

"Aw, honey," Gil jokes, blushing and pushing his hands into the pockets he's thrown on over his uniform. "You're embarrassing me in front of the patient."

"Was he like this in the ambulance?" Thena peeks up at Jack, who is still laughing at their interaction. She shakes her head, already done with her work. "He's all charming on the way here and then people get scared of me--makes me look bad."

"Come on," he nudges her with his fist within his hoodie pocket. The parents startle a little at the thought of him jostling her when she has a needle in their child's skin. But they also notice in this moment that she's already done and handing her needle back for disposal. "You couldn't look bad if you tried."

Thena rolls her eyes, although she's smiling--she can feel it. It really hurts her reputation of being the 'scary' ER doctor. She looks at Jack, "guess what?"

"What?"

Thena holds up her hands, pulling off her gloves and throwing them away. "I've been done for five minutes already."

"Oh," Jack blinks down at his stitched up leg. He can barely even tell what happened, "whoa."

Gil nods at Jack and rests his pocket on Thena's shoulder, which she swats away gently, "best in the biz."

"Thank you, Doctor," the less nervous father expresses with a winsome smile, gripping his son's shoulder. "You've both made this a much more bearable experience for us."

"That's what he's for."

"That's why she's the best."

Gil and Thena both look at each other for the contrasting statements, although they share the same sentiment, in a way.

"I'll get your paperwork done and then I do believe you can head home," Thena smiles as she stands, her ponytail swinging as she does. She nods at the calmer husband, "your husband deserves to take it easy the rest of the night, I think."

The father smiles at her, "as does yours!"

Thena blushes. She honest-to-god blushes, her hands flailing around in front of her as she tries to form the words. "N-No, h-he's not--we're-"

"If only," Gil just laughs, heading back to the nurse's station with Thena's charts in hand (which he's really not supposed to be doing, but everyone knows that Thena and Gil kind of play it fast and loose with how much he's really allowed to hang around at her side).

#tw stitches #tw needles #Thenamesh AU #Thenamesh Doctor AU #I watched a whole ass video about how to suture for this #it's on wired on youtube if you're interested #we're going to pretend that I know what is and is not a hipaa violation #I'm Canadian #and I don't think I actually have that much of an American audience #anyway #I know my options were doctor/doctor or doctor/patient #and I thought about it #but then I found out that paramedics and EMTs #are the real heartthrobs in that context #and Gil would be a great emergency responder #he's friendly and kind and gentle #but can definitely lift a grown person with one arm #not that Thena has noticed #no certainly not #she definitely doesn't think her work husband is fucking sexy #just kidding #she doesn't even know he's her work husband #meanwhile Gil is like #my work wife is the prettiest Doctor in the whole world

[parachutingkitten]

Like People Do

Borg Sibling Content! Yay! Quick preface. One Shot loosely based on THIS post. Basically, in a hypothetical Overlord return scenario, Pixal pretends to return her loyalty to her original master to become a double agent, and gets sent off with her still evil minded brother to prove her loyalty to the Overlord and his mission by killing Zane. Also, Happy Loving Cryptor Day!

“I find it insulting that he insists on forcing us into these inane trust exercises.” Pixal huffed as she stepped off her bike. “If he really wants to take control of all the realms, we shouldn’t be wasting time on these petty loyalty tests.” 

“Call me crazy,” Her brother mused, joining her. “But I’m inclined to agree with the evil warlord.” He pulled off his helmet. “Everyone involved in this needs to prove they’re committed to go all the way. We have to be able to depend on each other or the whole thing crumbles.” he shrugged. 

“And a one time action is supposed to prove our undying loyalty, is that what you think?” Pixal crossed her arms. “It doesn’t prove anything, and it certainly doesn’t help build a trust relationship.”

“Then how exactly are we supposed to build trust, huh?” Cryptor challenged. “How can you guarantee you’ll do your part, if you don’t show us you can do your part.”

“I can’t. That’s why it’s called trust.” Pixal pressed. “There’s risk involved in every trust relationship. But you can’t get anything if you don’t risk anything.” She turned to approach the building, her brother following suit. 

“Oh, so you want blind trust? Yeah, that sounds great.”

“No, I want trust trust.” Pixal corrected as they reached the doors. “Built on personal relationships and interaction and time.” She opened the door, looking her brother in the eye. “You know, like people do.” 

Cryptor chuckled as they entered the warehouse, a large empty room welcoming them. “Yeah, well, that all sounds very nice and pleasant, but in case you forgot, we’re not actually people, so we don’t really get that privilege.”

“What do you mean we’re not people?” Pixal stopped, swiveling on her heels to look back at her brother.

“I mean we’re robots. Made of metal.” He playfully knocked on his head to prove his point. 

Pixal stared back at him, confused, an air of sympathy slipping in to replace her frustration. “Yeah, but that doesn’t make us any less real.” 

“No, it just makes us intrinsically, by definition, not people.” He reiterated. 

“Is that what they’ve been telling you?”

“Did your team brainwash you into believing something different?” Cryptor tossed her the dagger designated for her test. She looked down at the blade, conflicted. “We’re always going to be less than they are, we’re manufactured products tricked into thinking we have agency so we’ll be more effective. You’re all the proof anyone needs!”

“I broke out of my Overlord coding.” Pixal countered, taking a step towards him.

“But you flipped right back the moment he showed up again! You couldn’t shake it!” Pixal stared back at him blankly, his words clearly not getting through. “I don’t know how else to explain it to you, you literally prove my point.” He shrugged.

“But what if I didn’t?” Pixal countered.

“What?”

“What if I didn’t flip back.” The question lingered in the air for a moment as its implications set in. “What if, right now, I wasn’t working for the Overlord. What if I was going after my own interests.”

Cryptor’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that when Zane shows up, instead of killing him, I could leave with him.”

He remained unmoved, his stare still skeptically fixed on her “Why are you telling me this?”

Pixal smiled, placing the dagger back in his hands.

“Because I trust you.”

#originally this was gonna be pixane angst #might write that version later #but damn I love this version too #borg siblings for the win #ninjago #cryptor ninjago #cryptor borg #pixal ninjago #pixal borg #writing #lovingcryptorday

[britishchick09]

clarissa explains it all season 5 premiere livewatch

clarissa is me looking up this ep on dailymotion (and my own gif in the gif search!)! it’s the beginning of the end, the final premiere livewatch for this awesome show... let’s not dwell too much on endings and start watching... exactly 29 years after it premiered! ;)

clarissa is counting cells! ... but they keep moving around! ;D

clarissa: “one million, two hundred fifty-six thousand and eleven times, i’ve asked my parents... can i have a car?” wowza that’s a lotta times! :o

and it’s 1,256,011 in number form! ;)

clarissa’s little subtle clues for a b-day gift are a bit too subtle it seems! ;D

janet gets a home cooked meal of course! ;)

clarissa put ‘reserved for clarissa’ on the driveway... and it didn’t work it seems! ;)

i wonder if she’ll finally get a car this season! :D

ooh she wants a motorcycle instead??? :o

she could get in a cycle in 2.5 seconds!

that elephant tho! B)

ooh olivia ‘kind of casually’ brought up her bro’s cycle!

and clarissa ‘kind of casually’ wants to buy it! ;)

clarissa actually has something with that cycle idea- it would be a great first step to a car! she could have independence in a smaller vehicle ;)

hi sam! :D

he has a helmet... perfect! ;)

norbert’s name tho... not perfect :/

OMG WAIT the ep is about a motorcycle... AND IT’S CALLED THE CYCLE OHHHHH ;D

clarissa: “olivia hasn’t shown up in an hour. ...45 minutes. 35 minutes is basically 45 minutes, isn’t it?” lol! ;D

i downloaded this ep a year ago just in case it was taken down and i’m glad it’s still up! i’m watching it on dailymotion for the nostalgia but i might switch to the downloaded vid... windows media player doesn’t have ads! ;)

oh no ferg has a fake phone company...

AND IT’S CALLED FCC????

that stands for ‘ferg communications company’! ;)

lol the customer hung up on him! ;D

ferg: “i get calling cards assigned to me under a variety of names. ferguson darling... fw darling... ferguson w darling...” clarissa: “if you run out of names, i’ve got a list a mile long’.” OHHHH!!!! lol! ;D

when people sign up they get... rubber jar things?

and he gets airplane miles??? his parents get them whenever they call long distance! :o

uh oh olivia called and it doesn’t sound very good...

sam: ‘that doesn’t sound too good...” omg jinx! ;D

ooh norbert gave clarissa an idea... ;)

and it’s a garage sale!!! :D

sam: “who would want your family’s old junk?” clarissa: “they wanted it at one point.” true!

aaaand the yard sale didn’t work :/

she tried passing a broken globe off as a bowl! clever! ;)

olivia arrived! and she came from the door! :o

oh no mount wesley erupted! :o

olivia’s dad doesn’t like how olivia’s bro bought a new cycle before

oooh olivia’s bro can store his old cycle in clarissa’s garage... ;)

olivia doesn’t want her to ride it... but you know she probably will! ;)

the cycle is in the garage and her parents don’t know about it...

marshall “you kids causing trouble?” olivia and clarissa: “no!!!” clarissa: “why would you assume that?” marshall: “it’s a figure of speech!” lol! ;)

marshall likes easy rider... but i think he means earsy rider like in bob’s burgers! ;D

he doesn’t want dust and a sleepy butt!

clarissa: “my parents will be cool with it, they just don’t know about it!” yeah right! ;D

the bike is calling to clarissa!

clarissa: “am i really gonna have to take no for an answer?” probably sis...

ooooh temptation’s power is calling her... >:)

AND IT BROUGHT THE BIKE INTO HER ROOM OMGGG!!!!!!!! :o

clarissa: “i think about it, dream about, draw pictures of it in my notebook covers...” looks like someone’s ob to the sessed! ;D

wait if her room is upstairs how in the world did she get it up there without anyone knowing? janet was probably at her job but where was ferg?

oh no what if he finds out... :o

sam doesn’t approve of riding either!

clarissa: “i can’t get it out of my mind!” neither can christine with the phantom! ;D

ooh clarissa made a video game with her on the cycle! :D

omg a panda in a tricycle knocked into her! :o

whoops the phone company found out about ferg’s company...

he has an extended family that’s very close... ;)

and he’s 77 years old! he would’ve been born in 1916... if the phone company doesn’t get a hold of the census! ;)

omg IT BE THE BIKE!!! :o

the phone bill is fat... ;)

janet’s meeting was cancelled and now she’s home... to possibly find out about the cycle? ;)

she’ll be there all afternoon! :o

and she’s sus... ;)

sam’s uncle eddy with no thumbs is in the hospital! ...for mono?

aww sam called clarissa evel knievel! :)

ooh she’s in a 50s cycle gang called ‘the young rebels’! that’s clarissa alright! ;)

clarissa snuck out at night to see the bike... and olivia & sam!

olivia: “busting his bike is nothing compared to busting your head!” OHHH!!!! :o

olivia: “i guess you know to shift your body before making a turn.” clarissa: “........sure who doesn’t know that?” sam: “and you memorized all the potholes along the way?” clarissa: “....potholes?” i don’t think she knows...

olivia and sam are already planning clarissa’s funeral!

omg that cycle is loud! how is no one waking up? :o

and clarissa isn’t confident about it!

clarissa: “i’m not confident enough to ride a motorcycle. i’d kill myself!” sam: “gee why didn’t we think of that?” lol! ;D

she still wants a car... classic clarissa! :D

clarissa to ferg: “trouble on line?” and that’s not the internet! ;D

HER PARENTS HEARD THE CYCLE I KNEW IT!!

clarissa: “who would be crazy enough to own a motorcycle?” lol nice one! ;D

that was the clarissa season 5 premiere! it was a fun ep as always! i liked how clarissa tried something different with a bike... and discovered that a car isn’t the best option right now! ;)

#livewatch #clarissa explains it all #the beginning of the end... :') #but it'll be fun! :)

[poisonedwell]

*rubs hands together like an evil villain* time to be petty

#my professor did that game where you have to create a structure to protect an egg from breaking when you drop it from 6 feet off the ground #and what people always forget about me is that i'm a huge science hoe #i was going to be a physics teacher before i switched my content area to english #so i wrapped the egg in burlap and then in felt and stuffed that bundle in a plastic cup #and it made the most HORRIBLE noise when it hit the ground and everyone was sure it had broken #but when i unwrapped it it was perfectly fine bc the cup absorbed the shock and the felt/burlap provided padding to further protect the egg #basically exactly how a bike helmet works #and then one of my ex friends who cut me off and then started harassing me to the point i had to get a no contact order went #and their group had wrapped it in playdoh and felt and pipe cleaners and shit #was just about the coziest damn thing you ever did see #and it made NO noise when it hit the ground #but they went back to their seat and unwrapped the fucker and it had shattered!!! #because using only soft things to protect the egg leaves nothing to absorb the shock!!! it goes straight to the egg!!! #it's like wrapping a pillow around your head and expecting to be fine when someone throws a baseball at your face!!! #the bundle made no sound when it hit the ground because it shattered on impact!!! #PHYSICS!!!!!!! #i know i'm mean and petty but it felt good to succeed and see them fail and also to be good at science because i love it <3 #also 'evil villain' is redundant phrasing but i don't care! :D #smile.jpg #yelling at a wall tag

[jaesqueso]

Glitch Mode (m)

pairing: game developer!mark x game tester female!reader (featuring friend!haechan (briefly), delivery guy!jeno and mentions of delivery guy!jaemin)

summary: you receive a brand new game to try out and you have a little more fun than you expected

for the Level Up event by @neohub​ ​ ❤

word count: 3,435

warnings: virtual sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, loosely inspired by the game technology on back mirror’s episode “striking vipers”

a/n: alright, I wasn’t sure how I was going to make this work, but here it is! hope ya’ll enjoy ❤

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

“Damn it!”

Your controller is thrown on the couch as the deadly words ‘Game Over’ appear on the screen.

“Sucks to be you.” You hear the grin on Haechan’s voice on the other side of your headset.

“You’re just lucky I’m distracted today.” You scoff at his audacity.

“Keep telling yourself that.” He laughs. “Why are you distracted though?”

“The new game is coming in today.” You grab the controller again upgrading your character to play another round with your friend.

“Oh that new virtual reality thing where you can actual feel everything?” You hum. “That’s from Dream Enterprises right?” You hum again. ”They’re really stepping up their game, they’ve been releasing mad games. What was the name of that one again?”

“Glitch mode.” The door bell makes you quickly exit the game. “That must be it, speak soon loser.”

“Don’t forget to give me feedback- Hey! You’re the one who lost!” You stop listening as you remove the headset to go answer the door.

Opening it you see a big brown box with the distinct Dream logo you’re so familiar with. You’ve always been a fan of playing games all day so actually getting the chance to be paid for it and, even better, trying out new games before they even go to the market it’s incredible. You work with several game developing companies but Dream Enterprises always gets you the most excited because, like Haechan said, they’ve been releasing great games in the past always coming up with new ideas to catch the audience.

Suddenly a pink haired boy peeks from behind the box, greeting you with a beautiful smile.

“Hey Jeno.” You smile back taking the package and placing it on the floor inside your house.

“Sup?” He hands you the papers of the confirmation of delivery. “Are you gonna let me try this one with you?”

“Maybe next time.” You give him the signed papers with a chuckle.

“Oh c’mon you always say that.” He fake pouts. “I know one day you’ll give in.”

“Never say never.” You wink before closing the door on his teasing smirk.

Not that you never thought of inviting him to play a few ‘games’, the delivery boy is actually quite hot and you may or may not order a few useless things from time to time just to see his face. But right now you can’t wait to actually try this game out.

Taking the box into the living room you place it on your coffee table, grabbing something to cut through the tape that keeps it closed. There’s not much inside, only the actual game in disc form, a little cube, a big black helmet with some sort of wing on each side and the instructions.

Welcome to Glitch Mode, the ultimate virtual reality technology where you’ll feel all the adrenaline without any consequences!

You start reading the little book and you get even more excited about the game, what do they mean by feel adrenaline without consequences?

Insert the disc on your console and set up your profile on the main menu.

Following the instructions you choose a username and basic skills for your character, this is a motorcycle race game so you make sure to select a bike that’s fast, has tires with a nice grip and good brakes. But, when are you choosing your actual character?

Place the cube in an open space and press the button to scan your full body and build your super realistic character!

So you actually get to have a character just like yourself? Dope! You grab the little cube and look around the room, you don’t exactly have a lot of space but you make it work. Pushing some stuff to the corners you place the device on the coffee table and click the button on the top before standing in front of it.

A red laser line flashes towards the ceiling slowly descending to the floor passing through your full figure. You look at the screen and see a window popped up communicating with the cube and what happens next makes you widen your eyes: an identical version of yourself comes up on your TV. You get closer to the screen, your mom would kill you if she saw you like this but you need to take a look at details, it looks so realistic!

Choose your style and route you want to race.

Clicking the side arrows on your remote you see ‘your’ clothes change: a hot pink and black badass outfit, a white and blue one with some fur, green and purple (who knew that would work?), and a suit? Kind of a weird choice from the others that are more relaxed and trendy but damn you do look good in a suit, it’s fitted to your body and has some chains on the collar making it more modern. Alright, let’s try it out.

For the route you see several cool spots that you plan to investigate one by one but for now you decide on a futurist spaceship like scenario with greenish neon lights all around.

Put the helmet on and click the button on the left side to start the experience. Lay back and enjoy the ride!

This is it? That’s an easy set up. You sit on your couch and look for the start button before putting the helmet on.

You see a bright white light flashing in your eyes making you close them for a split second before you re-open them. Looking around you see the scenario displayed on the preview of the route you chose, everything looks very realistic, they weren’t lying, you really feel like you just walked into a space ship with a race track if that even makes sense.

As you try to reach out to touch something you look at your arm and see the sleeve of a black blazer remembering you of the outfit you selected. At your right you see a reflective wall and walk closer to it to admire your character. You really feel like you’re looking into a mirror, a very flattering one if you may. And on your head there’s the exact helmet you put on to play, nice touch.

Suddenly you gasp hearing the sound of a motorcycle engine behind you. Turning around you see someone also in a suit and with a similar helmet on top of a bike.

“Are we going to race or what?” A male voice comes out but you can’t see his face behind the black face cover.

This must be a bot you’ll be racing against, that was probably one of the sentences it’s programmed to say. Next to it you see your own vehicle, the one you chose before so you walk and get on it.

He nods your way and you do the same before a glitchy ‘Get started’ sign pops up in the air that’s then replaced by a countdown from 3. Once it’s over, the bot takes off and you curse at your instincts as you try to chase it.

You can feel the air passing through your body and the actual motorcycle as if you were riding it in real life. At each curve your heart also races as adrenaline runs through your veins. Maybe this is what they meant.

Getting distracted with your thoughts you don’t see the obstacle that the bot quickly goes around to proceed and end up crashing against it doing a full turn in the air before your body and the bike hit the floor a few feet away.

Groaning you feel the whole impact, as if you’ve broken a few bones just now. You thought what you assumed was the bot just kept racing but then your hear the other bike come your way and brake with a spin right in front of you.

“How did that feel?” He asks getting out of the motorcycle.

“Hurt like hell.” You prop yourself on your elbows to look at him.

“But how does it feel now?” He continues.

“What do you think-” You stop as you realise you actually don’t feel a thing, yes the fall really hurt but now you feel like you didn’t just have an accident. “Actually, I’m fine…”

“Great, so it works.” He walks to you and extends his hand to help you up.

“It works?” You question confused.

“Feel all the adrenaline without any consequences.” He repeats the words you read before on the manual. “You get the thrill and the pain when something happens and then it’s gone.”

“Oh that’s what it means…” You mumble to yourself. “Wicked!”

“No!” You shriek as he grabs your hands when you were trying to remove your helmet. “If you take it off you’ll exit the game.”

His touch is warm and comforting, very human like. But it goes as fast as it came with him taking a step back, away from you.

“So I have to keep it on the whole time?” You ask already feeling suffocated inside.

“Kind of. You can click here.” He leans closer pressing a button on the right side of your helmet.

The helmet dissolves in pixels in the air leaving just the wings on your ears where the buttons are.

“Way better.” You smile but then notice he goes very quiet. “Is everything ok?”

“Y-yeah.” He stutters, could the bot be glitching?

“Do you have a face underneath that helmet?” You get curious when he slowly nods. “Can I see?”

“S-sure.” His hand goes up pressing to button to reveal what’s underneath.

Your lips part as you admire his features, from his dark grey hair with spiked bangs, his eyebrow piercing and the little diamond right below his other eye, to his strong jaw line, plump lips and dark beautiful eyes.

“Wow, this game has seriously nice graphics, you look so handsome…” You mumble, not even realising the words actually came out of your mouth.

“Oh, thanks?” He scratches the back of his head, a light redness reaching his cheeks. “I guess the recogniser system is that good.”

“Well, I noticed that on myself but I didn’t think the bots would be like this. Your face, your body, that ass… You look fine as hell.” You walk around him still amazed by the technology.

“You’re not so bad yourself- Wait, did you say bots?” Upon getting a positive hum from you he continues. “You think I’m a bot?”

“Aren’t you?” You stop in front of him.

“No.” He chuckles making you tilt your head. “My name is Mark Lee, I’m one of the developers of the game.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” With widen eyes you cover your mouth.

“I’m here to test the game with you and get your feedback.” He explains.

“Aren’t I supposed to do that formally after?” You question still embarrassed by the way you checked him out and made comments on his figure.

“Yeah, but we thought we could get some immediate feedback as well.”

“Well, so far so good?” Mark lets out a laugh at your words. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“What do you mean?” He raises a brow.

“You know.” You gulp turning around to pick up your motorcycle from the floor that is magically intact after the fall.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific.” His tone sounds a bit teasing but maybe you’re just imagining things.

“You know, checking you out like that and talking about how hot you look, I really thought you were a bot.” You keep your eyes on your vehicle.

“So you take it back then?” You gasp hearing his voice so close to your ear.

“I… Well… I mean… Hm…” You stumble over your words as his body lightly presses against your back.

“Were you lying? You don’t actually think I’m ‘fine as hell’?” He smirks repeating your exact words.

“I do…” You almost whisper unsure if you want him to hear.

“I think you’re fine as hell too.” His hands lay on your hips moving up and down. “This suit looks really good on you.”

“Thanks…” You practically moan under his touch and his low voice.

“You know,” Mark turns you around so you’re facing him, “I always wanted to try something in this game but I’d never found the right player. Maybe you’re the one I’ve been searching for.”

“I am a good player.” You decide to play along eager to know where this will lead to.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Leaning forward he catches your lips in an intense kiss.

You quickly respond wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. His hands move from your hips to your ass, giving it a strong squeeze that makes you moan into his mouth. Parting your lips you allow his tongue to play with your own. You’ve kissed some people in your life but nothing felt like this before, could it be the game or is he just an amazing kisser?

In a quick move Mark lifts you up to sit on the motorcycle, right at the edge so he can grind his bulge on your core, both excited for the experience. Quickly your pants are undone and being thrown on the floor along with your underwear that was surprisingly hot.

“Yeah I may have had something to do with the undergarments design…” He winks with a smirk as he catches you staring at the black lace piece.

“You really wanted to try this out didn’t you?” You bite your lip just thinking about his thought process.

“Can’t you tell?” He takes your hand placing it on his crotch.

Bringing your lips back together you stroke his dick through his pants feeling the hardness trapped inside. His own hand moves up your thigh until it reaches your pussy, running a finger between your folds to collect some of your juices.

“Guess I’m not the only one thrilled about this.” He brings his wet finger to his mouth. “You taste delicious.”

“Shut up and fuck me already.” You plea through half lidded eyes.

“Patience darling, I need to get more of this first.” After another kiss he kneels down right between your legs.

With his help you place your foot on the bike spreading your legs enough to give him room as he dives in. A loud moan fills the fictional street the moment his tongue comes in contact with your clit.

Mark eats you out like an hungry man, lapping at your most sensitive place like no one had ever done, it felt like you could cum right there and then when he barely even started touching you.

You curse under your breath when he pushes two digits inside you curling them up in the perfect angle to hit just the right spot, no one ever found it this quickly. And that’s why in no time you moan his name as the orgasm hits you.

Tugging at your thighs to hold you in place, he rides off your high with his mouth while his hands skilfully unbutton your jacket and shirt revealing your bare chest.

“No bra?” You raise a brow. “Guess you have something to do with that too.”

“Maybe…” He kisses his way up to your lips. “How did that feel?”

“Amazing but…” Teasingly you grab his tie through the chains to pull him closer. “Is that all you got?”

“You wish.”

Claiming your lips again, Mark starts unbuttoning his pants, pushing them along with his briefs just enough to reveal his dick. Eager to feel him you press your palm against his length gasping at the impressive size.

Slowly you start stroking his cock that just keeps getting longer and harder under your touch. His moans merge into your own as his hands cup your breasts, massaging them with just the right grip.

Those naughty hands then descend to your thighs, making your wrap them around his waist as he  lifts you off the bike. Your arms move his shoulders for support, never breaking the savage kiss you’re still sharing.

Smoothly adjusting your positions, Mark sits on the motorcycle with you on his lap. You let your back be laid in the middle of the handle, his mouth finally moving away from yours to take a deep breath as his digits trace your torso until they get to your aching pussy.

You watch attentively when two of his fingers part your folds, his other thumb pressing against your clit in circular motions. Lips part as a soft moan escapes through, pleasure running through your veins as you just want more of him.

Between your bodies you grab his shaft, pumping it a few times before brushing the tip between your folds, bumping into his fingers. He removes his hands watching you pleasure yourself with his cock where his thumb was, biting his lip when you let his length go down until it aligns with your dripping hole.

Pushing the tip past your entrance you bring your arms back to support yourself on the bike handle and move your hips towards his pushing his dick deeper inside you until your crotch presses against his.

Once fully inside Mark’s hands grab your waist moving you away until his member almost comes out of you, only to pull you back to him, making you gasp as he pokes your g-spot.

“You like that?” He asks with a naughty smirk.

“Yes! Do it again!” You plea.

“Like this?” He harshly repeats the move.

“Yes! Oh my god!” You groan, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Like a good boy Mark keeps bouncing you on his lap, the position letting him constantly hit the perfect spot inside you. His eyes follow your breasts that bounce at each thrust as your gaze is stuck on how his member keeps disappearing inside you.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum again!” You warn him feeling the orgasm building up.

“Aren’t you gonna wait for me this time?” He groans. ”It’s not a race, baby.”

“Well it should be.” You wink making him chuckle. “C’mon then, hurry, I can’t hold it much longer…”

“Hold on.” He whimpers as his moves get sloppier, clearly about to reach his high too. “Give it to me.”

Yelling his name you cum undone over his length, clenching your walls around him as you coat it with your juices. Mark only has time to free his dick before long strings of cum decorate the skin of your stomach. You let your digits play with his seed, smearing it around.

“Look at this mess.” You smile noticing you don’t even feel tired, already up for another round.

“Wanna see something cool?” He raises his brows with a smirk.

“Hell yeah.”

Suddenly a sign pops up over his head with the words “Restart race” and his hand raises to touch it. In a blink of an eye you are brought back to the starting point of the race, re-dressed and clean.

“Pretty cool, huh?” You turn your head around and see Mark back on his motorcycle just like when you met him earlier.

“Freaking amazing.” Your smile is hidden by the helmet that is back together over your head.

“Glad you like it.” He nods. “Well, I gotta go back to work but have fun exploring the game, maybe you can actually try to finish a race this time.”

“Right.” You both laugh as you never even made it past the middle of the route you chose. “Wait, before you go!”

“Yeah?” Mark stops as he was about to reach for the exit button.

“Think I can order another helmet?”

-

“Hey Jeno.” With a smile you greet the pink haired boy that rings your bell the next day.

“Another one so soon?” He asks as he hands you the big box he came to deliver. “Or is it just an excuse to see me again?”

“I thought you wanted to try the game with me.” You take the box and head inside, leaving the door open for him.

“Are you serious?” The teasing smile on his face is quickly replaced by a shocked expression at your words.

“Unless you don’t want to!” You shout already unboxing the package in your living room.

“But I have more deliveries to do…” Jeno bites his lip, still waiting out the door.

“Can’t you ask your co-worker Jaemin to do it? Are you really going to miss out on this opportunity?”

You hear the door shut and look to the hallway wondering if he actually went away. But then a familiar figure walks in.

“Hell no.”

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

taglist: @yokshi-unbeliebubble​ ​ @nc-teen​ ​ @yutahoes​ ​ @dimplehyunn​ ​ @iknowyuno​ ​ @bebskyy​ ​ @ne0cultur3technology​ ​ @nurenciye​ ​ @luvjeongjaehyun​ ​ @blondiedae​ ​​

unable to tag: @chenleyang @doahflix @criminalmindsz

#cznnet #nctcreations18 #neohub event: level up #mark smut #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #neohub

[oliviajdjarin]

Chapter 13: An Understatement

Warnings: blaster fire and descriptions of battle, mentions of injuries, Mando gets pretty hurt and the reader is a wreck (as usual)

Author’s Note: Enjoy Chapter 13!

Mando’s POV

All Mando could think about was you.

Did you protect the child? There’s no way you leaked their info to the Empire and betrayed them, right? Were you dead?

Somehow, the third option scared him the most.

As if this could not get any worse, Moff Gideon opened his mouth yet again.

“I have just received word that you seem to have a very valuable asset on your side,” he said, and Mando knew exactly what he was getting at.

He was referring to you.

Mando’s mind raced a million miles a minute. The Empire were after you, and they had to know you had the child with them. You could hold your own, he knew that, but against an entire regime of soldiers?

Mando knew you would rather die than get the child caught, he would do the same thing, but he wanted you alive. That’s all he wanted.

“It’s ironic, really,” Moff continued. “You put your trust in the Empire to get away from the Empire.”

Moff Gideon could insult Mando all he wanted. He could insult his religion, his creed, his past, but something about him referring to you as “the Empire” when you had worked so hard to get away from it rubbed him in all the wrong ways.

You had helped Mando start to put his violent ways aside, but you weren’t here now, and Mando wanted to kill the Moff where he stood.

“It’s time you face the fact that she will return to where she belongs. My side. I hope her betrayal does not hurt your feelings too bad,” Moff said, and Cara scoffed.

Mando’s last button had been pushed.

“She didn’t betray us, Cara,” he said sternly, and Cara rolled her eyes.

“Oh, so you’re on her side? The Empire’s side?,” she responded, and Mando tried to keep his cool.

It wasn’t really working.

“We are on the same side,” Mando snapped back. “It’s time you realized that.”

You would not betray him. If you were any other person in the galaxy, Mando would start to give up now. But you showed him, in the very brief time you were together, that even people with the worst pasts can still have good hearts.

You made him feel like an idiot. Like a joke. He hadn’t genuinely cared for a person since his parents, but then the kid came along, and then you came along. It’s like the galaxy was showing him perfect prizes, but the game was impossible to win.

But the very worst part of it all, was that Mando was willing to try.

What had you done to him?

Your POV

To say this day did not go as planned was an understatement.

One second you are running for your life, the next you are being scooped up by a metal hand. It happened so fast you barely even had time to register you were lifted off the ground and placed onto a speeder bike.

Once you finally did register what had happened, you immediately thought it was the Empire’s doing, so you turned around and aimed your longspear at the driver.

“Please don’t,” the droid responded. “Me being dead would make this much worse for you.”

The nurse droid, you thought to yourself. From Kuiil’s house!

You were in such a haze of mourning and sadness those couple of days, you barely remembered meeting the droid. You even forgot it rode on the ship to this planet!

You relaxed a bit and lowered your longspear, smiling internally at the thought that a piece of Kuiil was still alive, but you didn’t put your guard down.

You hadn’t put your guard down in days, so it’s not like your overall body language changed that much.

You made sure the child was ok, and once your head finally cleared, you realized Mando was trying to reach you again.

“Kuiil, Y/N, somebody come in.”

The droid picked up the comm device before you could get it, and responded in a very monotoned voice.

“Kuiil has been terminated.”

That ought to make Mando feel better, won’t it, you thought to yourself.

You were going to take the comm device out of the droid’s hand, but you froze when you heard Mando’s tone of voice speaking through the comms again.

“What did you do?” he asked, and you swore you could hear the venom dripping from his mouth.

It always surprised you how scary Mando could really be when he tried.

“I am fulfilling my basic function,” the droid responded.

“Which is?” Mando asked.

“To nourish and protect.”

With that statement, the droid sped up the bike, and you held the child in your lap. He looked up at you with confused eyes, and you could tell he was asking why you weren’t going home.

“We are going to save him little guy,” you said with a stroke to his ear. “We will be home before you know it.”

You smiled lightly to yourself, and before you knew it, the speeder bike was roaring through the town and taking out every trooper in sight.

Blaster fire surrounded you and you tried to focus on what was ahead.

Mando was trapped…. But where?

Finally, you squinted your eyes and saw a regiment of soldiers ahead, and you knew Mando and the rest of the team were trapped inside the building.

“There!” you yelled, pointing to Mando’s cage, and the droid turned you and the child around for protection while he continued to fire.

It was slightly disorienting at first, because you honestly didn’t expect that to happen, but you felt better about the child’s safety.

This droid is no dummy, you thought to yourself. Kuiil did a good job.

Your heart pulled slightly at the thought of Kuiil, still laying out in the desert, but he would get his proper burial.

You just had to make sure Mando didn’t get one of those first.

The droid finally slowed down, and you took the opportunity to jump off the speeder bike and dive behind a pillar.

You got the child situated in your arms well enough so he could be protected, and started making your way out of your hiding spot.

You knew you couldn’t fight with the child in your arms, that’s just stupid, but you did reflect blaster shots from the troopers and took as many out as you could.

You had to start making your way to Mando somehow, but out of the corner of your eye, it seemed Mando was coming to you.

Mando charged out into the open with Karga on his tail, and he fired at will. He kicked and punched the troopers who were close enough to him, and you couldn’t help the smile that graced over your face at the sight of him.

You couldn’t see it, but Mando was smiling too.

You stuck close to the buildings surrounding you, slowly making your way around to where Karga was, but the chaos was insane. You could barely see where the shots were coming from, let alone where you were sending them.

You looked around to find some other way, but what you did see was way better.

Mando was running to a huge cannon, and you watched him rip it off the tripod and start firing it at the stormtroopers.

Your hopes were on the rise.

You saw a dark black death trooper place a detonator on the wall of Mando’s former cage, and you panicked when you realized Cara was still in there.

You started to make your way over there when the explosion hit, but you were far enough away so that you didn’t feel any wave from it.

You continued to make your way over to her.

Your senses were going so crazy, that you didn’t even feel Moff Gideon enter the scene.

What you did feel, however, was the pain Mando felt when the Moff fired a shot directly into his helmet.

It hurt like hell, and you heard Mando cry out in pain.

You turned back to where Mando was, and you saw him take aim at Moff with his canon.

This is it, you thought. Moff Gideon is dead.

You wish you hadn’t been trained in the force so well, because the very next thing you felt was the pride in Moff’s chest when he realized how to take Mando out.

Your eyes widened and panic struck you like lighting.

Moff is gonna kill him.

“Mando,” you screamed, but it was too late.

Moff Gideon had already fired at the generator next to Mando, and you had no choice but to dive for cover. You shielded the child with your body, and you were lucky enough to not feel the effects of the explosion.

But Mando felt it all.

When the dust cleared, you saw Cara dragging, his body back inside while Karga and IG-11 followed her in.

You didn’t care about anything in that moment. And if you would have known merely weeks ago that you would run across a battle field with no armour and a child in your arms, you would have smacked yourself silly.

But you did it anyways.

You made it to the door right before it closed, and you stopped in your tracks when you almost ran right into Cara’s gun.

It was pointed right at you.

“Get out,” she said, and you raised the hand not holding the child in surrender.

“Cara please,” you plead. You could see Mando laying on the floor behind her, and your heart was breaking.

He was badly injured. You could feel it.

“You can kick me out as soon as you’d like. I promise. Just let me see him,” you ask.

The tears were starting to cloud your vision and you tried not to let your voice crack. You didn’t want Cara to think you were trying to manipulate her.

But your Mandalorian was dying behind her.

“I promise,” you say, and she finally lowers your blaster.

“Thank you,” you respond, letting a breath out of your mouth as you do it, and you run to kneel beside Mando.

Of all the pain you’ve experienced in your life, you had learned a lot about it. You had learned that you personally deal better with pain when you have something to squeeze in your hand, like a pillow or the arm of a chair. You’ve learned that there are people in the world who enjoy making others feel pain, and no matter how many times you try, you just can’t understand why. You’ve learned that bacta shots work wonders for physical pain, but mental pain is almost impossible to numb.

But worse of all, you’ve learned that watching people you care for in pain is the worst pain in the world.

And this one hurt.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife @bookloverfilmoholic

#din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Word Count: 2.3k 

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm. 

Notes: Multipart fic, slow burn. Updates to come soon (and dw, fic’s completed, so you won’t be left hanging ^^)

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

‘You sure you want the job?’ Miya Osamu asks her when she turns up at his shop, application in hand, responding to the advertisement in Onigiri Miya’s window for part time staff -  general help needed, ability to ride a scooter a plus point - it had read. 

There are only fifteen seats in Onigiri Miya, and hardly any space for her to fit her backpack between her knees, but sunlight streams in invitingly from the glass shop front and there is a faint smell of grilled rice and fried fish that reminds her of weekly lunches at her grandparents’ home.  

‘Yes’, she answers, gesturing with her thumb at her scooter parked outside the shop. ‘I think I’m a good fit for this job’. The corner of Miya Osamu’s mouth lifts ever so slightly, and he leans forward in his seat, hand extended to her.  

‘Welcome to Onigiri Miya then’, he says before proceeding to brisk walk her through the ins and outs of the shop, the scope of her responsibilities, work schedule and (most importantly) her wage, leaving her head spinning at the end of the impromptu briefing. Miya Osamu seems passionate about his craft, his face brightening up with enthusiasm when he talks her through the various onigiris he sells, the type of rice he buys (from a boutique rice farmer in Hyogo, apparently), and he’s generous enough to offer her a decent wage, more than what she could be making working in a combini. 

She stands by her bike on the roadside, tilting her face to the setting sun. There is the faintest smell of rain in the air. 

She soon falls into the rhythm of Onigiri Miya. 

Osamu is strangely territorial over food preparation, so her tasks in the kitchen are mainly limited to washing rice (thrice in clean water, drained thoroughly) and doling out cups of tea and bowls of soup. When he finds out that she’s studying accountancy at Osaka University, he immediately places her in charge of the cash register (and later, in charge of their books). Her scooter comes in handy when he needs her to do urgent stock runs or deliveries to customers. 

She learns the name of their regular customers - Abe-san, who only ever orders salmon onigiris with a side of pork bone soup. Kawasaki-san, who spends half her meal complaining about her aches and pains to a sympathetic Osamu. Mina-san, who turns up every day for breakfast after Osamu includes spam onigiri on his menu after he overhears that she misses her hometown of Okinawa.  

Osamu calls her over at the end of her shift on a busy Saturday night. ‘I’ve a large order for an old customer of mine. D’you think you could help deliver it?’ 

There is a gleam in his eye that she does not quite like.  

‘You sound like you’re sending me out to slaughter’ she comments half-jokingly, to which he responds with an amused shrug of his shoulder. She considers whether it’s bad form to throw her shoe at her boss’s head, but decides not to waste her time. So she shoulders the large sack of food, heading off on her scooter to a neat apartment building in a quiet neighbourhood.

Well – it would have been a quiet neighbourhood but for the music blasted from the top floor of her destination. She has to cover her ears the minute the elevator opens and wonders if their neighbours are deaf or dead because there is no way otherwise the apartment wouldn’t have copped a noise complaint. Grimacing at the tape over the doorbell, she knocks politely on the door. 

There is no response. 

She knocks once more, less politely this time, but still the door does not open. ‘Hello, your delivery is here!’ she calls firmly, slamming her fist down on the sturdy wooden door. 

There is still no response.  

She’s about to turn around when the door crashes open and a blonde head pops out. Her jaw falls open because standing before her is the spitting image of her boss that just sent her out with this order, albeit blonde and ever so slightly broader.  

‘You’re not ‘Samu, but you’re pretty’, he leers, leaning against the doorway. 

She’s tempted to deck him but she’s pretty sure that would mean losing her job. So reminding herself that all that’s standing between her and her bed is this delivery, she bites her tongue and extends the bag of food to him. ‘Your order, sir. Payment please.’ 

‘Didn’t ‘Samu mention that I don’t need to pay?’ The blonde Osamu replica tugs the bag of food towards him, frowning when she refuses to let go. 

‘Not that I know of - and I can’t let you have your order unless you pay for it’, she answers firmly, foot against the door. 

He straightens into his height in a thinly veiled attempt to intimidate her - and while he’s at least six foot of solid muscle from what she can see, it’s thanks to years of working in her father’s shop with men at least a full head taller and broader than her that she’s not afraid to tip her chin up at him with her widest, sharpest grin until he looks away to draw out a couple of thousand yen bills from his pocket, enough to cover the bill. 

‘Fine, fine - tell ‘Samu he wins’, he grumbles, slamming the door in her face. 

She waits until she’s back at her scooter and a good distance away from the apartment before she dials Osamu’s number. 

‘What was that?’ she asks without preamble when he picks up.  

‘What was what?’ Osamu answers, sounding uncharacteristically amused. 

‘Don’t play cute with me! Did you just make me deliver food to your brother?’ 

‘My twin actually’, and he ignores her squawk of indignation. ’Did he pay up?’

‘What do you take me for - of course! I didn’t let go of the food until he did.’

‘Huh’, Osamu responds, sounding surprised. ‘That’s the first time he actually gave in’. And with that, he laughs merrily and hangs up on her. 

She shrugs it off as one of her boss’s weird quirks. 

Except it doesn’t stop as being a weird quirk but turns into an annoying habit. 

Atsumu quickly becomes a regular customer (she learns during one of the twins’ many bickering sessions that he’s back in Osaka after several competitions), and Osamu latches on pretty fast that she’s far better than he is at forcing Atsumu to pay for the food he eats, so he sics her on Atsumu every time the blonde setter shows up at the shop for a meal. 

‘Pay up’ she orders Atsumu for the fourth time this week. Her tone gives no berth for refusal so Atsumu reaches for his pockets even as he grumbles his complaints about ‘cowardly scrubs’ and ‘ crazy bitches’ at a grinning Osamu. 

‘You should give me a raise for managing your brother’, she complains to Osamu later, and though he raises an eyebrow at her, to her surprise, he does exactly that. 

Osamu proceeds to take advantage of said raise to send her to man their stand at MSBY’s first match of the season, armed with a few hundred onigiris. Business is brisk, but she finds her attention diverted by the sheer speed of the plays and the way the players all seem to have wings in their feet. 

Atsumu in particular catches her eye. Osamu explained to her over a slow day at work about volleyball positions and basic plays, and he boasted about Atsumu’s talent as a setter, how ‘he always takes the best care of his spikers’. Watching him now, even to her untrained eye, she can see how much thought he puts into each of his plays - the way he tricks the blockers to let his spikers fly high above them, the quick side stepping of increasingly frustrated attackers, the dump shots at the most unexpected of times. 

She’s impressed, though she doesn’t want to admit it - because Atsumu has the personality of a puddle of muddy rainwater, and she's fairly sure he'd never let her hear the end of it if he ever finds out. 

So it isn’t surprising when she spots him being hassled by a large gaggle of his fan girls outside the sports hall. They’re hanging off his arms begging him for autographs - and probably something much less innocent from the way his eyes are bugging out of his head. It’s tempting to walk away from him – it’s not as if he’s been particularly nice to her after all, but a few of the more rabid fan girls seem to get a little  too  close for comfort and she figures even he doesn’t deserve that . Plus he probably can’t just shove them off because that might cause yet another PR debacle that she and Osamu have become accustomed seeing in the news, so she breathes a sigh through her nose, cursing her conscience.   

‘Oi asshat, your ride’s here’, she shouts as loudly as she can, shouldering her way to the center of the crowd. His fan girls stare in stunned silence, but Atsumu catches on after she shoves her spare helmet into his chest, and grabbing her wrist for dear life, they sprint all the way to her scooter.  

‘Don’t tell me you’ve never ridden before’, she snaps as he fiddles helplessly at his helmet. 

‘Of course, I have, what d’you take me for, some scrub?’ he retorts when he manages to strap his it on to his head. Her scooter groans under his weight. 

Yes - she itches to retort, because he’s clearly lying. He fights to keep upright as she loops her way through bends on the road and maintains a white knuckled grip on the back of his seat until she comes to a stop two streets away where his fan girls are unlikely to see him. 

‘So, where to?’ she asks him as he wheezes, trying to catch his breath. ‘I could let you off here, or we could grab some food - your choice.’ 

‘Eh… Could we drop by 7-11?’ he chuckles sheepishly. 

‘Really? You want me to take you to a  combini  when your brother literally owns a restaurant?’ 

‘I’m cravin’ an egg mayo sandwich, what’s wrong with that?!’ he yells as she revs off, and she laughs when he squeaks and clings on to her waist. 

They end up at a combini anyway. Atsumu buys his egg mayo sandwich. And a bucket load of oden. And a bagful of karaage. And two pudding cups (singly packed, none of the triple cup kind for him  thank you very much). At least he steers clear of the onigiri section, because Osamu might explode otherwise if he ever finds out. 

‘You’re paying the fine if my bike gets impounded’ she tells him sourly.

‘Relax - it’ll be fine’, he waves his hand airily at her. ‘’Sides, what’s a girl like you doing with a bike?’

‘A girl like me?’ she echoes, tilting her head in confusion. 

‘Y’know - kinda square and all? I assumed so, since ‘Samu mentioned you’re studying to be an accountant’, he clarifies through a mouthful of food. 

‘Square?! ’ she mouths at him, outraged, and he grins unrepentantly back at her, crunching on karaage. She abandons her annoyance to scoot back to avoid the ensuing spray of crumbs. 

‘Do you want me to answer seriously, or was that a rhetorical question, gross pig?’ 

 ‘Please, I’m always serious, darlin’, he drawls. 

She steals a fishcake from him in retaliation and he tries to rap her knuckles with his sandwich. They only settle down when the combini staff glare at them mildly in reproof. 

‘I’ve always wanted to ride a bike ‘cos it seemed like it allowed its rider to be free’, she says, shooting a fond look through the window at her own scooter, rusty and old it may be. 

‘I mean it allows you to get from one place to another, what’s so special about that?’ he asks, cocking his head in confusion.  

‘Mm…well, not just that. You see, when I was younger, I used to be so jealous of my older brothers getting to ride their motorbikes. They refused to let me borrow it, so I stole it one day when they weren’t looking and took off - but because I was so excited, I hit the thrusters so hard on the way up a hill that I ended up crashing on the way down. But right before I crashed, there was a moment when I was on the top of the world with the wind in my face - it was the first time I truly felt  alive .’ 

 She closes her eyes at the memory, her mouth lifting into a smile. ‘And that’s what I become addicted to - chasing that feeling of being completely unfettered from the world, like a bird in the sky. 

He stares at her meditatively, as though she’s a puzzle he can’t quite solve.

‘What!’ she exclaims, the tips of her ears flushing pink, suddenly self-conscious. 

‘Nothin’, darlin’. Just thought that you’re more interesting than I thought’. Ignoring her indignant ‘ what?!’ , he stands up, brushing the crumbs off his lap. ‘Shall we get goin’? It’s about to rain.’ 

 The ride back to his apartment passes in a blur of streetlights and gathering rain clouds, but thankfully it’s not as unpleasant as it was before as Atsumu eases into his seat, moving with her when she drops into a bend, loosening his hands on her waist. Still, she suspects it’s all bravado, as he stumbles stiff legged off the bike when they reach his apartment. 

But as to be expected from a seasoned athlete used to the spotlight, he manages to plaster on a grin, cocky and charming enough to make her blush. 

‘Thanks for the ride’, he says. ‘I wouldn’t mind coming out again with you for a ride sometime’. 

Then he smiles at her, and it’s soft, shorn of the sharp edges she’s used to seeing. It plants an unfamiliar seed of warmth in her core that survives her race home against the storm.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq #haikyuu writing #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #hq writing #haikyuucreations #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu #miya twins #inarizaki #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x y/n

[notasdriedapricots]

Hi! If you don’t mind, would you share a lot more of dad!Lucas headcanons please!

Well I do not mind at all! I'm sorry if there's people wishing I'd shut up about it lol Here is the first part of these, just in case, and here are some comments on pregnancy and choosing a nanny. And sorry it took me so long to get to this!

So, some more general HC and then I'll add some specific for a girl or a boy because why not.

- That child is getting technology time so, so limited… They're gonna be playing outside (likely taking classes for a chosen sport), they'll get tons of pencils and paper to draw, paint, jigsaw puzzles, cubes, books, playdough… Physical things, rather than an iPad and Kids Netflix 24/7. I HC Lucas as working in rehabilitation, and some fellow psychologist will remark the importance of early cognitive and motor stimulation. And he'll take it very seriously, even if it requires a bit of extra work from him and MC.

- He would be the one teaching them how to walk (again, according to my work HC for him, he already does that with grown people so he would take this as a personal mission).

- OBSESSIVE about proper nutrition while they grow up. Lots of research about when children can start eating certain things, swatting forks away screaming "ARE YOU INSANE?? DO YOU KNOW HOW ALLERGENIC TOMATOES ARE??". That kid will have no allergies and a killer immune system.

- So much frustration during the "picky eater" phase, oh my god. He can't understand why they won't eat something they used to like, and now they just want spaghettis with cream and nothing else.

- Slightly hurt if he's woken up by a distant "Mom, I had a nightmare" instead of a closer "Dad, I had a nightmare" in the middle of the night…

- His worst nightmare is the supermarket tantrum. MC knows the basic principle of: You just explain why you said "no" and let them cry their eyes out, the rest of the people know kids that age throw tantrums. But Lucas? Lucas would get anxious that people would think he's a bad father and end up giving in even if he knows he shouldn’t, and then when they don't stop because sometimes what children actually want is just to cry, he would get even more anxious and just leave the supermarket without whatever they were there for.

- Punishments are smart and evil, but effective. Nothing physical, of course, and nothing unenforceable like "No TV for a month", and nothing cruel like "Not seeing your friends for two weeks". No. Something simpler. "No TV, only for two hours, for a week". Which two hours you ask? The two hours their favourite cartoon is on. "Sure, we'll still go to your favourite park. But later. When the dog you always pet has already gone home." "Yes, you can have a cookie after lunch. Any you want, except you favourite." Little things that make a point. They didn't do anything unforgiveable so it won't merit anything big, but he'll make sure there are consequences to it.

- No family portrait, but he takes all their drawings to his practice and pins them on a board next to his desk.

- Firm believer on the "one language, one physical activity, one artistic interest" triad. The specifics in each category are up to the kid.

- "Daaaad, can we go for a ride on your bike?" "Absolutely not." "… Why?" "Because it's dangerous. No." "Why is it dangerous?" "Because it goes very fast and you can fall and get hurt." "Then we'll get another bike that's not dangerous." "All bikes are dangerous." *Points to his arm* "That one too?"

- Bonus points if after that they cry every time they see Lucas grab his helmet. "Dad, no! You're gonna die!"

- The kid would be curious about his job and think he's a doctor. He would kinda let them believe it while they're still young because explaining the difference would be a bit too complicated for a small child; a "Not exactly a doctor, but close" type of deal.

- He's so over the top when it comes to material stuff… "Dad, can you get me a book by this author?" "Which one?" "Whichever you find!" *The next day* "I got what you wanted!" *puts three bags filled with the author's entire bibliography on the table*.

- I don't like it, but he would be kind of a "suck it up" kinda parent… Not because he doesn't get that you shouldn't shake everything off but because he doesn't know how to deal with it himself. Mom would be more understanding.

- This has to do with a very specific HC from my Lucas in my fic but I figured I might as well share it. Lucas would never ever suggest it, it probably wouldn't even cross his mind, but if MC said she wanted to be a stay at home mom for a couple of years, he wouldn't oppose.

- Another personal HC (a bit too personal as it vaguely comes from actual personal experience), is that he doesn't have a bad relationship with his family. They are all just a bit distant, mostly only talking and seeing each other for Sunday brunch with very little interaction besides that (which makes some sense on a particular level but I won't get into it right now). So, while he doesn't actually resent his family, he wouldn't want his kid to feel that distance or coldness; it would be difficult because that's the way he's used to interact with family, it's what he learned, but he would make the effort and follow MC's lead on being a more loving parent.

Lucas and a daughter:

- The OG, my first dad!Lucas HC ever, from the Baby Challenge I've had written since last year, is that he would melt for the rest of his life if he had a daughter.

- She is a princess, she's perfect, and no human being will ever be good enough for her, don't @ him. No one is surprised by this headcanon, right?

- He can't say no to her, he just can't. Again, no one is surprised.

- Also, she grows up seeing him as the model of the ideal partner, seeing how he treats her mom and being taught that's how her partner should treat her.

- "Can I put make up on you?" "Sorry, honey, no." "… Well, can I give you another tattoo, then?" "… Okay."

- "Lucas, we can't keep buying her just dresses. She's a kid, she needs to run around and play, and be comfortable. Just let her be in a pair of trousers or shorts and a t-shirt." "Yeah, you're right… She looks so cute, though!" "Yes, but all those pretty dresses are going into the sandbox, you know?"

- "Lucas, why did you buy her a real tea set?" "What do you mean why? What did you want me to buy her? Plastic?" "Yes! It's a toy!" "I'm not buying her a set of plastic Barbie-pink cups. That's tacky." "Okay then, what do you think it's gonna happen if she drops one, it shatters, and she tries to clean it up without asking for help." "… She- she would ask for help." "You never know." *Suddenly pale Lucas*

Lucas and a son:

- If he's into them, sports! If he's not, Lucas won't force him.

- While Lucas is away he would ask mom or the nanny for one of his white shirts and pretend he's wearing a lab coat like his dad. Lucas would get him a tiny lab coat of his own, with the pockets and everything.

- Some physical play, as in putting him upside down or tickle wars type of deal.

- He would look up to his dad so much it's ridiculous. He's his hero, and his role model. He would copy his walk, the way he seats, the way he talks… So much so, people would insist they look exactly the same even if they don't because the "vibe" resemblance is that strong.

- Just imagine his face if the kid said he wanted to follow his footsteps profession-wise.

- The chats about how to treat women and how to stand up to bullies both for himself and for others…

- Quiet camaraderie when he's older.

Okay, I'll stop here again lol. Now I'm thinking about teens and Lucas, but if I get into that this will be a novel and we don't want that. Again, thanks for asking these! Now I want to write a dad!Lucas fic, damn you all.

#lovely mutuals 💜 #lovely anons 💜 #dad!Lucas #Lucas #HCs #lucas koh #litg lucas #I need to shut up about this

[itsstrangelypermanent]

Let's talk about helmets and hair

I'm going to preface this entire thing with some disclaimers.

1. I have a lot of hair, but its thin, white-Irish girl hair. Yes, I know. It's green. Thanks for noticing. 2. My prop helmet has had absolutely zero post-print processing, and is held together by blue painters tape so I could start working out designs and fits. As such, it is NOT 100% accurate, but more than sufficient to demonstrate its true size when fully assembled. 3. Addendum to #2 - there is ZERO padding inside, evidenced in one of the pictures. 4. It is a 1:1 scale, designed for a male (human :D) of approximate canon height. It's a commercially available - both the print and the .stl file. I did not print this myself, as my printbed isn't quite big enough for it, but bought it from the creator himself. 5. I work in a cleanroom. For those unaware, that means I basically go through a form of decontamination every time I enter the workroom floor, and we wear Resident Evil type white suits (minus the giant spacesuit helmets.). We wear hoods over our hair to prevent FM (free matter) contamination. Why is this relevant? It is, trust me.

AND now that I have that out of the way, let's begin, shall we?

I am all for clones having their own private individualities. I adore the fanon/canon beliefs that they embrace body art (and I'll include hair styles/coloration into this) to make them unique, them. Kix and Keeli with their ridiculous shaved patterns (canon), Thorn and Hound having dyed/bleached hair respectively (fanon), the absolute myriad of both canon and fanon tattoos... while I honestly and truly believe the writers of TCW had zero intent for it meaning more than "oh hey, let's give Crys blond hair in this episode so we can tell him apart when we do shots from the shoulders up" and "gee whiz, Fives and Echo look exactly alike when they stand next to each other, let's pop a tattoo on Five's fat head so our audience can be spoon-feed who is who" -- well, sorry guys, it had more implications than that.

So past clone tattoos, which as a connoisseur of tattoos in genral, I could write pages on... let's focus on hair. Specifically, let's talk about the practicalities of having long hair as a clone trooper.

That's just it.

There aren't any.

Behold. A helmet. (Also, a cat. Her name is Duchess Helga.)

Specifically, a Phase II clone commander helmet, minus the greeblies that make it a commander helmet. Those bits aren't relevant for this as they do nothing to affect internal fit. As mentioned, its 1:1 scale, and unless you have some weird bulbous protrusions, it should fit a generally normal sized post-puberty human.

Also observe: Zero post-print processing. There's been no filling or sanding. This is as raw as that chicken Gordon Ramsey is constantly screeching about. Important - there is no padding. I can't repeat this often enough. Padding can be expected to add anywhere from half an inch to a full 2", depending on how you want it to fit, how big your noggin is, etc. Think: bike helmet.

Exhibit the Third: Hair. Standard, semi-long hair. Hits my shoulder blades, maybe just a touch past since my ends are split and terrible.

This is with my hair loose, down my back. Please note that I don't generally wear my contacts if I'm not working these days, and my glasses very much do not fit under. That's fine. Canonically, there are no glasses-wearing clones that I can think of, save Tech, and well... I'm not even going to touch that with a 10' pole. I was vaguely satisfied that I actually ended up in frame, since I couldn't see what I was doing.

The inside bowl of the helmet is sitting on the top of my head, I'm just holding it still since there's nothing internally there to help that yet. It rests just on my shoulders, as-is.

(protip: if you're doing something like this yourself, make sure all your tape, if you have any looping into the inside, is completely down and not sticking up. Painter's tape does not like to come off of hair, but alas, we must suffer for our art.)

Now we have all that out of the way, let's talk clones. Specifically, let's talk Tup.

Canonically, he has majestic hair, if a questionable male-pattern-baldness/Vegata (it's over 9000?!?!) hairline. (That's not coming from me, that's coming from my brother, who suffers similarly.)

Here is a Tup.

This was one of the best angles of his hair I could find, and has the benefit of one of our favorite ARCs. Note the bun, and how high it is on the crown of his head.

Let's science.

Simple wrap bun. Basic pony, take the tail and twist, then use whatever random scrunchie or elastic that comes to hand to secure it. This is low on the back of my neck. I generally wear my hair for work around this height because it's easiest for me to put up, and around the house about the same because I wear a lot of ball caps. Remember how I mentioned working in a cleanroom and wearing a hood over my hair? With my hair down low like that, I can wear a size medium hood, the standard generic, "typical" size expected for someone of my height and build.

Without resorting to pixel measurements (I am not MatPat), visually, the... density? size? of my hair appears similar to what Tup sports.

Ignore my foot, this isn't that kind of post.

So, with my hair down low, the helmet does not fit. Not anywhere close. Unseen, but relevant: my nose now has a scrape on it because I tried to finagle my way in. Bun was rather unforgiving unless I wanted to rip out chunks of my hair. I did eventually manage to cram myself in, but it was distinctly unpleasant. The cap of the helmet did not rest on the top of my head - the bun basically wedged my face against the visor part of the helmet.

Remember: no internal padding.

(You gotta have buns, hun.)

Once I freed my hair from its blue, sticky prison, I took another look at my file of Tup reference pictures. He wears his bun way up high, on the crown of his head.

So, with the not-very-helpful assistance of my cat who kept trying to eat my elastics, I put mine up in approximately the same place. Yes, I know my hair looks like a rat's nest, I hadn't been up for long when I took this... it's very much bed-head. Also god DAMN the gray :sobs:

After a few adjustments (I rarely wear my hair up this high, it took a moment to adjust it), I tried the helmet again.

Success!

Or not.

So, the pros... I got my head in.

That's about it.

Cons: My nose is very much mashed against the "teeth" part and, well... hair. Hair takes up space, be it in your helmet or in your bathroom drain. My bun is absolutely mashed to the top of the helmet, and my rough measurements of it's height are 3.5-4" seem to correlate to what Tup has. I actually had to pull the helmet down a bit because otherwise my chin would be hanging out - that's how badly the height of my hair affected the fit.

Remember how I mentioned I normally wear a medium hood at work? if I wear my hair with my bun anywhere north of my ears, I have to go to a size large. I'm in that hood for 10 hours out of 12, and the discomfort of my hair binding on the back of my head is just vile. Also, I'd have a line across my forehead where the seam of the eye-hole section of the hood is, and that's just not cool.

And that's with fabric, which inherently has some give to it.

Finally, and again, there's no padding in the helmet. It's bare PLA on the inside, plain, simple, somewhat fragile white plastic filament. In fact, I'd go so far as to wager that PLA/PET/typical 3D print filaments have more give to them than "plastoid" does.

So. Where does this leave us?

For me, it's (and Lordy Lordy I dislike using buzzword bingo words like this) immersion breaking. It's just not practical, and between the Mandalorian heritage and the Kaminoans being what they are, I can't imagine extensive hair styling, at least of the having lots of it variety, to be a thing. Helmets are one-size-fits-all, with the only real distinctions being different "classes" - ARFs, command-types, phase I/phase II, pilot-specific, etc. One clone head can fit into every helmet, every helmet can fit onto every clone head. I can't imagine that the standard-issue helmets would have any sort of adjustable padding, either. Further, there's electronics in canon helmets - HUDs, etc. That takes up space.

To try to keep my meandering to a minimum, I'll narrow this. I can't imagine a clone, a being who's in their armor far more often than they're out of it, voluntarily being that uncomfortable for that long, when there are other methods of expressing individuality. Now, that's not to say that some wouldn't - pain is pleasure kind of nonsense, the need to do something to break the mold. I get that. BUT... I would see them in the incredibly vast minority. The physical discomfort would be a big thing, as would... well, helmets come with instruction manuals and warnings. Not wearing a helmet properly puts you at potentially more risk of injury should something happen. I can't imagine a commander, a medic, a brother knowingly let another brother go into a combat situation with a potentially life-saving piece of equipment not fitting right because he wants to have fluffy hair, not when there are other options. Hair color, shaving it, tattoos, piercings... all would seem to be viable and valid alternatives.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand this has been my TEDTalk on why clone hair as portrayed is broken as fuck and quite possibly the most unrealistic thing in the series. Little green men playing with energy swords is ok. Clones of a space Polynesian (I'm going to use that term broadly, it's not meant to offend anyone, but more to bring attention to physicality) with BEAUTIFULLY LUSH HAIR cramming said BEAUTIFULLY LUSH HAIR into overly-tight helmets just isn't.

#tcw #swtcw #the clones deserved better #tup #I'm so bad at tagging #deep thoughts #I need to unknot my hair now #beffs.talks

[infinitegalahad]

Hi! Could you please do 4 or 24 from the fluff prompt list for brad or nate from generation kill?❤️

ROSY RED SKIES (AND CHEEKS)

Summary: Brad acts differently around you, and you begin to notice his little quirks and tease him endlessly for it.

Word-Count: 1.4k

Prompts: “you’re blushing”, “am not”, and “could you hold my hand?”

Warnings: N/A

Taglist: @theboardwalkbody

Notes: Decided to give gen kill some love since my love for it has resparked! I need to rewatch the show when school ends istg🥲 This is my first time writing for the show as well-so please bare with me! I just love when the iceman goes to the puddleman. Enjoy! 

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt! 

The chill brush of the waves crashing into your bare feet made goosebumps form all over your skin. Wyoming, even in the middle of July, became brisk as soon as the sun would hide behind the mountains. It was a spectacular sunset with the mountains and orange and pink sky, minus the temperature. As soon as Brad had parked his bike, you had hopped off and ran to the nearest lake to get the best view of the sunset. You threw off your boots and cuffed your pants, feeling one with nature. You couldn’t help that you were from the northeast-Ray would poke fun at you, but there was something about nature that was so soothing. You’d simply show him a smile, and roll your eyes. It was just Ray after all.

Your boyfriend, however, was the polar opposite of you.  

Brad knew that you were too good for him, and the world. He didn’t understand how optimistic and empathetic you could be. Normally, those types of people were an annoyance, but you were different to him. At first glance, he thought of you as a pest. Ray would bother you since you stood out in the company, so he kept to himself. There was a point where you would be the driver instead of being in the rear, and that was when Brad felt at ease. Many troops — but certainly not all — see female flesh as a justified spoil. Most of Hitman, or a solid majority, were like rabid dogs. If they saw a woman, they’d foam at the mouths and talk about them like objects. Brad never wrapped his head around how open these men could be-especially around you. That’s the moment he knew, or at least Ray knew, that Brad Colbert had the world’s biggest crush on y/n.

It was an unforgettable day. You had been the driver of the humvee and Brad had been in the passenger things. Ray had started running his trap, and Trombely had remarked “at least the women can drive.” Brad had turned around, a flushed face (he claimed it was from the heat), and had Trombely shut the fuck up. Trombley was a psychopath, everybody knew that, but he targeted you the most with lewd remarks. After Brad had defended you, Trombely never bothered you again.

And you weren’t a horrible person-just y/n with a smile that made Brad’s cock twitch in his pants.

You wanted to thank Brad, but he simply iced you out.

One day it was raining, you and Ray had been in charge of fixing the humvee. The two of you were drenched, soaking, and weighted down by the heavy and brisk weight of the rain.

“Man, this is what it must feel like in a girl’s panties whenever the big, strong Viking known as Brad Colbert speaks to a chick,” Brad remarked as he looked down at you with a shit-eating grin. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he took great pleasure in doing so. “Tell me, my dearest pal. How does it feel?”

You were under the humvee, doing some final checks as Ray annoyed you. As you secured the final screw, you let out a sigh.

“My god, I normally don’t like saying this, but shut up Ray, please.” As you rolled out from the jeep, you threw the tools laying around back into the box. “It’d Fan-fucking tastic if maybe he didn’t repress his feelings.”

Turning around, Brad Colbert stood right behind you, his blue eyes piercing into your soul. Water dripped down his skin as he had a stoic expression on before turning around and exiting. Ray Person takes full pride in being the reason you two hooked up in the back of the humvee later that night.

A year later, here you and Brad were. The two of you had nobody but yourselves, so you chose to live where nobody could find the two of you. Brad thought that the state of human nature allowed people to be selfish and savage. The horrors of war had proved his point, which further increased his hatred for people.

But a simple smile or stolen touch from you-and Brad would go from the iceman to the puddle man.

You brought the good out in Brad. He hated everybody, but you, and he wanted to spend his time with you in the most unpopulated state in the United States. And you had no issue going with him. You had dreams to work as a Park Ranger, and as long as Brad had you by his side, then he was content.

Even though Brad loved you, as alien as it was, he occasionally didn’t understand you.

Brad had seen you hop off the bike and throw your helmet to the side, jumping towards the lake as he watched you like a hawk. He assumed he let you do your own thing and be “one with nature” or whatever zen-shit Rudy was into. But as you walked further into the lake, his brown leather jacket hanging off of your shoulders, is when he stepped into action.

“Y/n,” He called out, his voice echoing. You looked over, and Brad was starstruck. His jacket draped over your smaller frame as your eyes were widened like a deer in headlights.

“Yeah?” You questioned, nudging your shoulders.

Brad stood close to the shoreline, his icy blue eyes burning into your soul. His lips pursed against each other as his cheeks showed a red tint. No words came from his mouth, just the silence of the water and wind. He stood in place, looking right at you.

A smile curved up on your cheek. He was never like this around anyone else. After his fiance had left him, he was torn-at least in your eyes. You and Brad weren’t that different-your boyfriend had left you and had broken the news with a damn Christmas card. It was the strange way the two of you bonded. It wasn’t all mushy emotions and crying or cuddling-it was unprofessional, as much as you needed it. Instead, your bond consisted of long conversations on top of the humvee, looking at the stars. Iraq, despite it being hot during the day, turned freezing at night. Brad had given you his hoodie, which was like a nightgown on you. It was gray, the words ‘colbert” embroidered on the front.

You still kept it in your closet, wearing it for when you needed reassurance.

“You’re blushing,” You giggled as you turned your body fully around to look at your boyfriend.

Brad snapped out of his trance as his hand came to feel his cheek. He shook his head, “Am not.”

A smirk appeared on your face, “Really?”

Kicking off his sneakers and rolling up his jeans, he began to walk into the lake. “Really.”

“You sure?” You took a few steps back, but he kept gaining onto you.

Brad was close enough to grab your hand, restraining you with his strength. “Positive, ma’am.”

Jumping up, you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, which once again caught him off guard. “You're hot,” You noticed, “Well, literally. But you’re burning up, liar.”

“You realize how annoying you can be sometimes?”

“You chose to date me,” You shrugged your shoulders as you slid past him in the water, “Let’s head out before it gets dark.”

Once again, Brad grabbed you and held you back, but instead of taking your wrist-he took your hand.

You turned back and looked up at him. He had the expression of a baffled child, unable to explain what predicament he had gotten into. It had your heart melt-here was the notorious iceman, cold and cunning, melting into the puddleman.

“Brad?”

“Could you hold my hand?”

Pulling him forward, you locked your hands into his and gave them a squeeze. “Of course-why wouldn’t I?”

“We haven’t done this before.” He responded as the two of you walked out of the law, your feet drenched, “I’m not into the whole romance thing.”

“Wow-I never noticed.” You said, sarcasm in your voice, “I like it, puddleman. At Least your not calling me corporal.”

After the war, it took time for Brad to differentiate you as his girlfriend and his corporal. As much as he cared for you, he found it hard to do basic things such as showing his affection and even calling you by his first name. But with time, you showed up, and it came to him.

“You go from being my RTO to my girlfriend,” Brad says as he whispers into your ear, “And yet you're still the same-stubborn.”

“And you love it.” You smiled at your boyfriend, not expecting anything back from him but an annoyed face.

But Brad looked down at you with awe in his-and a subtle smile on his face.

#generation kill #generation kill x reader #generation kill imagine #Brad Colbert #Brad Colbert x reader #Brad Colbert imagine

[finleycannotdraw]

Guess what? I’m re-binge-reading Good Omens. And here are some Obervations that I forgot about and some things I might put in fics. Also things I found funny. Basically my dumb commentary on the book.

Crowley actually flees Sister Mary. He doesn’t saunter vaguely away. He flees.

Ligur is rather more thoughtful than he’s portrayed in the show

Anathema likes to read about herself, and her teachers are confused because she spells words like Agnes Nutter

Crowley apologizes

By page 41, it is mentioned at least twice that Aziraphale and Crowley Do Not choose each other’s company for any reason other than that they are constants, that they have an Arrangement, and that they are Friends because being Enemies got boring.

Aziraphale blushes!!!!!!

The Drunk Scene is fuckin hilarious and it’s actually a lot longer than it is in the show, and really you ought to read it. (Book pages 47-50)

My mom (who has a PhD in human development) would probably like to talk to Crowley about upbringing because they seem to agree on how important it is

War has always looked 25, and had a vulture that died of fatty degeneration

Pollution is very cleverly compared to actual pollution

Warlock has Kermit the frog overalls, and Nanny Ashtoreth is described as someone who “advertises unspecified but strangely explicit services in certain magazines”. The tutors are present for about four paragraphs. Warlock is good at math and likes banana flavored bubblegum.

Crowley has a slice of angel cake. Aziraphale eats it. Aziraphale also eats deviled eggs. Hm.

Crowley calls Aziraphale angel casually enough to suggest he’s been doing it for a long time

Some girl at Warlock’s party calls Aziraphale a f*ggot

Crowley glares suspiciously at a gerbil. It is suggested that Hell has, in the past, sent hell-gerbils in place of hellhounds.

“Oh dear,” muttered Aziraphale, not swearing with the practiced ease of one who has spent six thousand years not swearing, and who wasn’t going to start now.

Adam and his friends play in a place called The Pit, where shopping carts go to die, apparently

Crowley is the first one to mention sides in the book!??!? Also Crowley goes on about how humans are more evil than Hell (but he calls himself evil—is he calling himself human already?)

Aziraphale yells “get off the road, you clown!”

“What’s a velvet underground?” *love confession???* “you wouldn’t like it”

Aziraphale is a bit rude to Crowley in the “flashes of love” scene and Crowley is less panicked about it

Crowley glares at the Bentley and it fixes itself

Anathema’s bike is called Phaeton

COULD THEY ACT ANY MORE MARRIED OH MY GOD

Aziraphale speaks like. Like ugh. “FlOUndeR on tHe rOcKS of inEquiTY”

“Thirty seconds later someone shot both of them. With incredible accuracy.” *cuts to a random pleasant story about Mary Hodges* *cuts back to where Aziraphale has fallen into a rhododendron and Crowley licks the paint before he knows it’s paint* dumbasses

Crowley does not slam Aziraphale into the wall

Crowley is actually pretty impatient and doesn’t argue with Aziraphale when he’s worried

“Nothing but dust and fundamentalists” “that was nasty” “sorry, couldn’t help it”

When the radio sings “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me,” Crowley sings “for me” and then screams

Crowley asks Aziraphale if he’ll keep in touch, and Aziraphale doesn’t say tickety-boo, and then Crowley says “right” and feels very alone

the international express man is small and has glasses, and wears green woolen socks

The sword, which turns out to be Aziraphale’s, is described as having an aura of hatred and menace, which makes me think of how it could’ve gotten that aura from Heaven or from humanity or from War...

In the book Pepper has red hair and freckles, which makes it a cool comparison to War’s appearance and the defeat of War

Adam is excellent at slouching, apparently

Occasionally, as Aziraphale reads the book, he would very nearly swear

“He wouldn’t have said ‘that’s weird’ if a flock of sheep had cycled past playing violins.”

“If you had told him there were children starving in Africa he would’ve been flattered that you’d noticed.”

“...that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.” (151)

Wensleydale watches David Attenborough programs

Shadwell’s voice is described as “the color of an old raincoat” and seems to fake smoking cigarettes

Aziraphales cocoa is moldy and solidified by the time he calls Arthur Young, and has a thin layer of dust on himself too

Newt says that the walls look like nicotine and the floor looks like cigarette ash, and he suspects both are, actually, coated with these substances

Newt looks a bit like Clark Kent, and people seem to like Shadwell for some reason, much to his annoyance.

Aziraphale calls Shadwell “dear boy” on the phone

Agnes Nutter called God a daft old fool #goals

Adam is wayyyy too good at video games

Smelling Anathema’s perfume makes Newt uncomfortable

Adam suggests that Pepper ought to have Russia cause of her red hair (huh)

Anathema and Newt actually have decent conversations?? Like?? Show??? C’mon, man. The show kinda butchered their relationship.

Trees, apparently, make a ‘vvrooooommm’ sound when they grow very fast

“He suspected that Crowley was from the Mafia, or the underworld, although he would have been surprised how right he nearly was.” Shadwell also thought Aziraphale was a Russian spy. Wow, Shadwell.

Aziraphale calls Crowley and actually says “shut up” to him, and then when the answering machine beeps, he tells Crowley to “stop making noises” and then he swears for the first time ever.

The fuckin’ footnote on page 227

“A sleek computer was the sort of thing Crowley felt that the sort of human he tried to be would have.” I like the word choice here. He’s not pretending to be a human, he’s trying to be one. That’s a really important distinction.

It never actually says what Crowley does to his plants.

Crowley’s flat is very white. Wow, Crowley. It just looks dark because of the lighting. Heaven imagery and symbolism out my ears, goddammit.

Why does Hell say Crowley’s name so much when talking to him?? Honestly, I think that’s an intentional dig at his chosen name, using it in their speech to scare him. Wow, Hell. (And wow, Finn, excellent sentence)

Whenever the book says something is shaped like something, it definitely isn’t that thing. “man-shaped” “dog-shaped” “car-shaped”... makes it pretty obvious they aren’t men, dogs, or cars, huh.

The code to Crowley’s safe is 4004. The year he “slithered onto this stupid, marvelous planet”... and the year he met Aziraphale, of course. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, Crowley, my dude.

Crowley consideres sticking Hastur into his car until he turns into Freddie Mercury but then decides even he isn’t that cruel

Actual text that I feel like nobody really agrees with: “Madame Tracy was by many yardsticks quite stupid”

“Do I look like I run a bookshop?” “...imagine me out of uniform, sir, and what kind of man would you see before you? Honestly?” “A prat.”

I’m crying. The fucking bookshop fire scene made me fucking cry. I’m literally crying.

“...on all fours in the blazing bookshop, Crowley cursed Aziraphale, and the ineffable plan, and Above, and Below.” “The police and firemen looked at him, saw the expression on his face, and stayed exactly where they were.” “...a crack of thunder so loud it hurt....” *the sound of Finley sobbing into their cat*

The shortest biker in the cafe thing is 6′2, what the fuck

War, Famine, Pollution, and Pop Trivia 1962-1979

“Pollution removed his helmet and shook out his long white hair. He had taken over when Pestilence, muttering about penicillin, had retired in 1936. If only the old boy had known what opportunities the future had held.” HMMMMMMMMMMM

“There were no bitches in Hell either.” I know it’s talking about female dogs, but I rather thought Hell was full of bitches.

“Why are you talking like a poofter?” “Ah. Australia.”

“gOsh, aM i on teLEviSiON?” (Basically Aziraphale gets passionate about stuff and likes to talk).

Crowley is actually an optimist and doesn’t dwell too much on how sucky the world is. He doesn’t go get smashed in a bar. He just finds Aziraphale’s notes in the book and heads to Tadfield. And also, his new pair of sunglasses just... materializes out of his eyes. And he likes to whistle.

“Death and Famine and War and Pollution continued biking to Tadfield. And Grievous Bodily Harm, Cruelty to Animals, Things Not Working Properly Even After You’ve Given Them A Good Thumping But Secretly No Alcohol Lager, and Really Cool People traveled with them.”

“on top of the pile a rather large octopus waved a languid tentacle at them. The sergeant resisted the temptation to wave back.” Honestly dude, if an octopus waved at me I’d wave back.

Wait Agnes was apparently talking to Shadwell and not God when she said yowe daft old foole. I dunno

Madame Tracy: You old silly. Shadwell: 

Aziraphale does not know how to get rid of demons. Canonically. “Had never done other to get rid of demons than to hint to them very strongly that he, Aziraphale, had some work to be getting on with, and wasn’t it getting late? And Crowley always got the hint.”

The road to Hell is paved with frozen door to door salesmen, apparently. The question is where it is, because the demons always seem to just stem out of the ground.

“Heigh ho,” said Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway. I love this sentence during that scene. 

I bet Hastur gets really mad whenever he hears Aziraphale’s voice from now on

Crowley isn’t breathing the entire burning Bentley scene

ADAM. SAID. “But I reckon you can make your own side” AND WE FUCKIN IGNORED IT?

The temperature above the M25 was simultaneously 700ºC and -140ºC which makes me think of something I read about magenta not being real. The M25 is magenta.

I feel like “Agnes” is just going to become an inside joke between Anathema and Newt at this point, and it will drive Crowley insane because he knows who she is but somehow still doesn’t get the joke.

I’m six inches taller than R.P. Tyler, and apparently according to the back sleeve of the book jacket, I’m very similar in height to Neil Gaiman

R.P. Tyler thought Shadwell was a ventriloquist’s dummy, and then sees cows doing somersaults

“That’s terrific. Much obliged,” said Crowley. — “Funny weather we’re having, isn’t it?” “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” “Probably because your car is on fire.” .... Also the fact that Crowley looks like a young man which I find interesting.

“The Four Button-Pressers of the Apocalypse”

“Where is Armageddon, anyway?” “I’ve always meant to look that up.” “There’s an Armageddon, Pennsylvania”

Famine is the one that says “that’s one big avocado”, and also, I find it interesting that War, more than once, talks about love. (All is fair in love and war much?)

Anathema threatens the guard with a stick, pretending it’s a gun

Aziraphale, of course, asks Crowley to sort it out because he, Aziraphale, is “the nice one” and then proceeds to sort it out himself. Because of course he does. Because what else could he possibly do.

I just ADORE THIS BOOK OKAY

I’M PROBABLY GOING TO READ IT AGAIN IN A MONTH

Aziraphale and Crowley are so fuckin married I can’t

#good omens #finley rambles #finley reads #I reread good omens and this is the result #live commentary #not even kidding I was typing this all down as I read the book and I noticed a lot more #aziraphale #crowley #Aziraphale and Crowley are married thank you have a nice day #book omens #book aziraphale #book crowley #aziraphale/crowley #aziraphale & crowley #anathema device #newton pulsifer #shadwell #madame tracy #the them #adam young #brian good omens #wensleydale #pepper good omens #fuck I can’t even write a tag novel cause I had to tag so many characters #anyways enjoy my rambling #so long and goodnight #*listens to paramore moodily*

[mandoalorian]

my time to shine- may i request a cobb vanth x reader 👀👀 maybe a enemies to lovers question mark trope-

for example maybe when din meets cobb, the reader is just like ohmyfuckhessohot but also fuck him for being so cocky i want him underneath me once i pin his arrogant ass down- and like 👀 maybe yk what that happens, and the reader can feel his bulg- 🏃‍♀️💨💨💨 i have nothing but horny thots for middle-aged men in my peabrain- s'ok if you don't do this- just horny thots

By The Fire (Cobb Vanth x Female Reader) SMUT

hiya bae!!! im so sorry this request took SO long to get out but i hope you enjoy it none the less xx

if you have a request feel free to submit it via my ask inbox!

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2k

Warnings: SMUT; close to female receiving oral but not all the way, cock warming, spanking, riding, unprotected (use protection!)

So he was different, and you couldn't figure out how you were supposed to feel about him. If the Maker had just granted you a second alone with Din, you would have spoken to the Mandalorian about him. Din was always good at weighing people up from first glance. You, on the other hand, had always been called 'naïve' and 'gullible'. You tried working on yourself; you really did- and you believed you were improving. But when you met the marshal of Mos Pelgo; he threw you completely of course. You couldn't do anything under his watch. You failed to perform the most basic of the tasks… you couldn't hotwire the speeder bike you had claimed, nor could you manoeuvre the squirming child into his high chair. And it didn't go unnoticed.

Din grabbed your arm and took you to one side. "What is the matter with you?" his question was harsh, and came out as more of a statement. You felt yourself fluster, defensively folding your arms across your chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about." you scoffed and rolled your eyes. Under his beskar helmet, Din was not amused. He narrowed his dark eyes and pressed his lips into a fine line.

"Ever since he joined us, you've been acting off." Din said matter of factly. You felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"Oh," you shrugged nonchalantly. "You mean the Marshal?"

"Yes. The Marshal." Din spat. "Cobb Vanth is an elite. He is smart. He knows what he's doing. And he owes me one. He's going to help us get off this sand-rock of a planet, and then you can finally forget about him. Because that's what it is, isn't it? He's on your mind and it's distracting you."

Maker, he was good. He could read you like a book. Everything Din had said was true, no matter the level of denial that you were in. You stood there, comprehending his words, and after a few prolonged beats of silence, you took a deep breath.

"No." you shakily exhaled, gritting your teeth and pursing your lips together into a pout.

You cursed yourself. You were a bad liar. The worst Din had ever met… and Din had encountered plenty of scoundrels in his adventures across the galaxy. Din didn't answer you. He didn't need to. He knew you well enough to understand what exactly was going on in that little mind of yours. There was no use playing innocent with him.

The Marshal’s eyes were burning into your back. You hated it. You hated him. You hated the way he spoke to you. He over-explained everything, like you were too young and innocent to understand. He was so cocky and so arrogant. You tried your best to devise an efficient way to get off Tatooine, with his help, but he just kept shutting you down. You couldn't understand it. He wouldn't listen to you, and it irked you so much.

You hated the smirk that graced his lips and that sultry gaze he shot you from across the cantina as he sipped on his spotchka. You hated the way it made you feel. You hated the burning sensation that erupted in the pit of your stomach and the way you'd have to press your thighs together in order to suppress the need for some kind of sexual release. Never in your life had you met a man who could do so much to you, without doing much at all.

"I'm going to travel to the sand dunes, and I'm taking the child. Hopefully I can find some jawas who will trade parts with me. Then we can get started on the Crest's repairs and get off this planet." Din informed you. "I need you to wait here with the Marshal, make sure he doesn't do anything suspicious while I'm gone."

"I thought you said you trusted him," you knotted your eyebrows together. "That he 'owed you one'."

"He does owe me one. I just don't know if he's a man of his word." Din sighed before spinning around on his heel and walking towards the speeder bike with the child. Pft, a man of his word. That scoundrel? Not a chance.

Nights on Tatooine were warm and humid, as you had found out. The Marshal, who you had learned was named Cobb Vanth, had told you to collect sandwood from the outskirts of Mos Pelgo and bring them back to his hut. You did so, begrudgingly following his instruction, and watched him make a fire.

There was something so erotic about the way his biceps flexed as he quickly rubbed each piece of wood together, trying to ignite a flame. Beads of sweat laced his hairline as he concentrated, occasionally squinting to see if his attempts had made a spark. It didn't take long before Cobb created a roaring campfire. It was nice, amber embers floating through the air as you perched yourself on a log. Cobb discarded his armour and sat opposite you.

The atmosphere was nice and…. sensual. The only thing was, neither you or Cobb hate uttered a word to each other since you came back with the sandwood. It would've been awkward if there wasn't the undeniable sexual tension in the air. You were the first to speak.

"I don't know if I trust you." you said, immediately regretting the words after they departed your lips. There was a beat of silence.

"Smart." Cobb smirked, and you felt yourself swell up with more fury. His voice was so rich. You hated it. You hated it.

"You hardly think I am smart when you've refused to listen to me all day." You tsked, shuffling closer to the fire and warming yourself up. "My plan wasn't flawed. If you had just listened to me, me and the Mandalorian could've been off this wretched hive hours ago."

Cobb nodded his head slowly. "You're probably right."

"So what's your deal?" you groaned, tossing your hair back and closing your eyes.

What a sight. Cobb admired your stretched out form, his eyes boring into the skin of your chest and up the length of your neck. You had ditched your cloak, leaving it to just crumple by your feet. You were glowing. Cobb was sure you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen enter Mos Pelgo; and he wanted to prove that to you in some way or another. When you opened your eyes, Cobb was on his knees, in-between your legs.

He looked up at you, his eyes completely lust blown and he swiped his tongue over his lower lip. He looked primal. He needed you. "Wasn't listening to your stupid plan because I didn't want you to leave so early." Cobb admitted, his voice gruff and hoarse.

He wanted more. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he had been trying to weigh you up as well. What was your deal? Were you courting the Mandalorian? Surely not. There was no denying the tension between you two. The cod piece of his armour had hid the erection you had given him all day. He shamefully had to relieve himself in the restroom of the cantina. He just couldn't get enough of the way your lips twisted around the fruit you sucked on, and the way your eyelashes framed your doe-like eyes.

He placed a big hand on the inside of your thigh, where your skin was as soft as cream, and pushed your tunic up, exposing your panties. You stiffened up under his rough touch. This was exactly what you wanted. There were no signs of Din or the child. It was just you and Cobb Vanth. He shuffled closer to you and began to plant sloppy kisses along your thighs. You hummed in delight as his greying stubble tickled your skin and you felt him smirk against your body. That damned smirk.

You ran your fingers through his locks of hair, occasionally tugging. His groans under your touch vibrated through your core and left your panties ruined from arousal. His lips nudged against your clit, only the thin material of your underwear gating his tongue from your cunt. You craved him so desperately. You needed him inside you. But he was teasing.

"You've been calling the shots all day." You whimpered as he licked a stripe down your pussy. You went to pull your panties off but his large hands stopped you.

"I always call the shots." he growled in your ear sending shivers down your spine.

"Not tonight." You smiled, tugging on his hair and pulling his head away from your core. You stood up, taking extra care not to stumble and fall into the fire, and dragged him to his feet. You pushed him onto the log where you had been sitting and sat on his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist and straddling him.

And oh Maker, he was hard. You could feel his entire length throb and press against his stomach as you grinded your hips, slow at first. Achingly slow. Cobb lowered his hands to your waist and pulled you closer to his chest, desperate for you to increase your speed. "More." he gasped, nuzzling his head into your neck and biting down into your skin.

Your grip on him tightened. You wanted to go slow; and tease him for as long as possible. He deserved it. You wanted to edge him until he was crying out your name, begging you to let him cum. But you needed a release too. Fuck, you needed him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and hovered over his lap. "Pants off." you commanded, to which he happily obliged.

Within seconds, the Marshal had pulled his pants off. You spat into the palm of your hand, saliva dripping amongst your fingers and grabbed his length, rubbing it as you slowly sank on top of him.

He was big. He was so big. His cock throbbed inside you. It stretched out your walls and you could feel every vein. You held yourself on top of him for a few moments as you adjusted to his length. Cobb dipped his hand down and began to circle your clit a few times, earning a few delicious moans.

It wasn't long until you were balls deep into him. His cock was amazing. As you began to ride him, you realised it curved in just the right place, and with every thrust, he hit your sweet spot. You knew you wouldn't last long. "Fuck, so good," Cobb grunted as you bounced on top of him. "Such a pretty girl."

"Don't wanna leave," you gasped. "Wanna feel your cock fill me up every day. Wanna feel you cum inside of me. Please."

"Keep doing that." The Marshal urged, his hands pressing into the small of your back. "I'm close."

"Want you to fill me up, make a mess of me." You were practically screaming, tears pricking your eyes as he began to buck his hips upwards, his thrusts meeting yours.

"Yeah? Such a good girl for me, aren't you?" Cobb cooed and you let out a little squeal as he spanked your bare ass- the sound echoing through the desolate village.

He drove you straight to your climax, your cunt clenching around him, tight like a vice, which sent him to his own orgasm. His load shot up inside of you, sending bolts of pleasure into your body. He pressed his forehead against your chest as your rhythm became more slow and sloppy until eventually he softened inside of you. Reluctantly, he pulled out, and you whimpered at the lost feelling of him.

"Next time you find yourself on Mos Pelgo, I'll be the one calling the shots." he growled, biting down on your ear lobe.

Permanent taglist (let me know if you would like to be added!):  @supernaturalgirl666 @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic

#cobb vanth x reader #cobb vanth smut #cobb vanth #the mandalorian #the mandalorian season 2 #timothy olyphant #timothy olyphant x reader #pedro pascal #din djarin

[someonewhowannadielol]

What is Love?

Requested by @sassysaxsolo​

Pairing: BadBoy!JK x Innocent!Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warning: Dirty talk, degrading, oral sex (m and f receiving), pussy slapping, exhibitionism (??). Oh god this has like 4 smut scenes in it, it's nothing but porn bye

Summary: Jungkook has a degrading kink. Y/N doesn’t seem to like it. Also, JK is bad at this entire love thing but totally whipped for the girl of his dreams.

WordCount: 3.6k

A/N: The first scene is inspired by Hunter and Amy from “Hot Summer Night,” because it’s such a cute couple! P.S this might not be my best work because I wrote it at 3AM, so :( sry

You wouldn’t exactly call your boyfriend mean by any chances, but it doesn’t mean he was the nicest person you’ve ever met either. Sometimes you look at other people, like Hoseok, or Jimin, they could most definitely keep you happy – and speak to you like you’re an actual human when you both fuck.

You still remember the first time Jeon Jungkook had ever well, noticed you.

“-and then they both crashed into each other!” your friend was telling this story for the nth time, and you paying your 101% undivided attention to your fries sitting in front of you, basically drowning in ketchup, while trying to ignore the eyes that bore in the back of your head.

It was the last day of your exams as a sophomore in high school, and just like everyone else in town, you’d gone to the diner you always went to, at the end of 15thStreet Avn. Everyone and their mom had decided to come, so it was really busy, you literally had to speak loud to your friends, sitting just across you.

Fifteen minutes ago, Jeon Jungkook had walked into a diner and chose the place that gave the perfect view of you from the back.

Seven minutes ago, your friends had noticed that he was – shamelessly – staring at you, strawberry milkshake in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other. When you tried to look back, his eyes didn’t even flinch when they made contact with yours. On top of it, he winked at you. It was weirdly strange, yet made you feel all giddy inside.

What. The. Fuck. It was a well-known fact that girls would actually die to have one date with Jungkook, willing to get plastic surgeries, buying the most expensive clothes, and even leaving gifts in his locker at school. So why was here he here, in this lame-ass diner? And that too, wasting time while staring at you? He clearly didn’t even take a sip of his beverage.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, he’s so totally staring at you,” your best friend from across the booth said, while pretending to look at her nails.

“He’s so hot, I would totally take a bite,” your other friend says while taking a bite of her burger.

“Yuck!” you exclaim, as you can’t help but laugh at the thought of it. You had a certain laugh, especially when you were sitting around with your friends – it wasn’t that loud, but your eyes would bunch up as you would unconsciously bring your hand up to your mouth, and would throw your head back.

You dare to look back at him again, but this time you see his coming towards you, while taking a puff from his half smoked cigarette. You immediately turn your head back, so quick that you feared you’d broken your neck.

You look at your friends adjust their hair and posture when they see him coming towards your booth, and you can’t help but play with the hem of your sleeve, biting your lip. He stands across you, leaning on the booth in front of yours, swirling his straw so the whipped cream becomes one with the milkshake.

As soon as he makes eye contact with you, you just freak out and amidst that panic, you blurt out, “I have a boyfriend.”

He looks back at you and smirks, oh God, he looks so, so amazing. This year, he’s grown out his hair, so the waves were sprawled against his forehead, and he pushed it back with his hand after placing the milkshake next to you. He’s the pitch perfect image of a fuckboy; leather jacket, a motorbike, tattoos (even though he’s totally not 18 years old yet), and the lingering scent of cigarettes.

“Nah, no, you don’t,” he takes another puff of his cigarette, “but if you don’t stop being so fucking cute, you will,”

You chuckle, thinking he’s pranking you, thinking it’s just a joke him and his stupid friends had planned out to humiliate you publicly, “You don’t know the first thing about me,” you say as you dip a fry in ketchup.

“I know you like ketchup,” he says, before taking a sip from his milkshake.

That was also the day when Jeon Jungkook had officially asked you out.

-

When you’d spent the entire summer with him, you got to realize one thing about him, he loved to degrade you while having sex. Sure, it was fun the first few times – but after that, words like “slut,” and “whore,” had started making you feel like one.

It was obvious that to you that you weren’t his first priority; football and his friends were always going to be before you. You still remember he was less than enthusiastic when you told him about the art gallery you’d host after working on your still life pieces for two years.

But in reality, everyone on the team knew he was head over heels for Y/N, he had quitted smoking right after he heard you cough, he’s started wearing a helmet whenever he rode his bike, and even let you decorate it with your frilly stickers. He would always, always go out of his way to get a fresh pack of chocolate milk for you, because you once mentioned that your dad doesn’t let you drink it because it’s unhealthy.

“Here, babe,” he says tossing you your daily supply of chocolate milk.

“Hey, remember when I told you about the art gallery I was preparing for?” you said, but it seemed like he was more interesting in scrolling Instagram on his iPhone, “um, because I have to go to art school,”

“Yeah, what about it?” he said, pecking your cheek as he got up for class.

“Well, it’s on the 28thof October, that’s next week,” you say before taking a sip of the milk he got you.

He waited a minute before speaking anything, and you wished, you wished deep in your heart so sincerely that he wouldn’t come up with an excuse.

“You know Jake’s birthday is that day, right? Can’t you reschedule it?” he said, looking down, adjusting his leather jacket.

You felt as if someone was stomping on your chest, it was getting harder to swallow the milk in your mouth, and it didn’t taste like the too sugary drink it was – instead it felt like you were swallowing poison. He surely remembered your rants about how it was so hard to rent a place in that gallery right? Or how it took you three months to manage to snag it for a couple of hours? Or how it took you two years to compile your best art pieces?

“B-but I don’t think I can do that, I barely got to rent the place an-and I- “

“Babe, I don’t think I can make it. The boys and I are going out to the city,” he said, tilting his head.

He didn’t wait for your reply, already walking down the hallway, leaving you heartbroken.

On 28thOctober, you met all the professional people you had dreamed of meeting, it was an honor, especially since you were just a Junior in high school. But, you never saw the face you wanted to see. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest when the exhibition finally finished, and you had to close the gallery.

That night, around 1AM, Jungkook broke into your room through your window how he usually did, only this time he had a bouquet of roses in his right hand, and red eyes.  When he noticed your tear stricken eyes and smudged mascara, he didn’t think twice before throwing the flowers on your bed and hugging you hard. Then, when he was so close, you noticed that he reeked of alcohol and weed. But it was fine.

He spent the night trying to make you laugh by reciting jokes he was forced to listen from Seokjin, and trying to make up for not being there. He cuddled you, putting your head under his chin, your body resting on his chest. It felt like home, when you would be with him, alone.

“How did it go?” he asks, nuzzling his face in your neck, peppering kisses there.

“It went amazing, I got a lot of good critique from artists and college professors,” you say, running your hands through his hair, you still missed his long hair that he cut last week, but it was way softer now,

“I missed you,” you say as he hummed.

He loved how you were like an open book, not like the girls he had been with before. You wore dresses – which he loved, because easier access – and you had long, virgin hair. He loved how untouched you were, innocent, pure and uncorrupted. He loved the little chub on your cheeks, he loved your pillow soft breasts, he loved how you always tasted like strawberries because of your chap stick. He loved virtuous you were. His to taint.

“I’m here, baby, and to make up for it, we’ll go to that café you always wanted to go to, my treat for being the best girlfriend,” he mumbled in your ear before taking off your dress and peppering kisses all over your body.

Of course, your mood had evidently changed, “Okay, you goofball,” you laugh as he tickles you.

“Baby, even if everything is wrong, it’s always going to be alright, and you know why?” he says as he kisses you on the lips. It was a chaste kiss, a huge contrast from his usual drunk kisses, they seem to be more chaste, more genuine, “you’re the only good thing in my life,”

You forgive him, like every other time.

You also toss him out the window before 6AM, before your father catches you with a boy. And that too, Jeon Jungkook. He’d probably kill you. It reminded you of the time when Jungkook decided to eat you out, on a weekday, on your bed, with your room unlocked.

It was no surprise when you found out that he was especially skilled with his tongue, not that any boy had ever even touched you there. You fought your moans, because your dad was literally downstairs watching his daily 9pm news. You knew he’d check up on you at 9.30 PM to ensure that you were studying for the SAT.

But here you were, your face stuffed with your own panties as the taste of your cum took over your tongue, it was a little embarrassing for you to taste yourself, but you paid more attention to the brown haired man between your legs. He’d mutter the same obscene words that used to give you the pleasure you needed at first, but soon became insecure of.

“You like that, dirty slut?” you mewled as he worked his tongue on your clit, adding another finger to the previous one inside of you. His two fingers did more than what you could do with your entire hand, the long slender fingers were now knuckle deep inside of you, doing wonders to your body.

“You’re such a whore, moaning here like a bitch in heat, when everyone thinking you’re an angel, huh,” he says as his fingers thrust in and out of you, lewd noises filling your small room.

You felt your blood run cold, when you could hear your dad’s footsteps on the stairs. Fuck.

“Three. You have three seconds to cum, or forget about it,” he said looking your straight in the eye, his fingers working faster than ever.

You could feel yourself pent up, your walls clenching down on his fingers.

“Two,” he said, attacking your bud with his tongue, a circling pattern, making you shake.

Before he could say ‘one,’ you were cumming, all over his fingers, your thighs and your sheets.

Jungkook chuckled, “Fucking whore,” before jumping out of your window in time, just a second before your dad came in your room. You were under the blanket, your panties under the bed, and your pride out of the window.

As you excused your flush face as a small fever, you couldn’t help but feel a weird twist in your stomach. You didn’t exactly like the way you felt.

You had avoided Jungkook as much as you could the next week, but he didn’t exactly notice because recently the football team had been putting in more hours to prepare for the nationals. He’d still slipped loving notes in your locker, and strapped a red rose on Thursday as well, that made your heart flutter.

The next time you met him was on the bus, on your way home.  

He could’ve rode his bike to his home, but he wasn’t born yesterday, he knew something was up with you when you didn’t respond to any of his messages, and didn’t even acknowledge him in your English class.

The was bus was packed, to say the least, as he followed you as you went to the tail of the vehicle, excusing people. The next stop had more people stepping in here, and he was even more pressed towards you.

You instantly regretted wearing the tennis skirt you wore yesterday, because it was short short, and also thin. You no longer had an excuse to avoid your boyfriend as you felt him press up against your back, you could feel his bulge on your butt.

You tried to look back up at him, but whimpered when you saw the animalistic look in his eyes, and the way he towered over you wasn’t helping either. You sucked in a breath when you felt his finger hitch up, and up, and up, until it was so, so near your panties as he circled your inner thigh with his thumb. He could notice how you were hyper-aware of the surroundings, as if people could see everything that was happening, everyone could see how your boyfriend was basically fingering you on the bus.

“Do you wanna do this?” you heard Jungkook whisper in your ear, and truth be told, you had missed him, the feeling of his dick, his fingers, that you needed him, and you needed him now.

You nodded, and just as soon, you heard him chuckle, “You really are a dirty slut huh?” he said as he slapped between your thighs, making your knees buckle.

With one hand, he held the handle above so he would stay balanced, but with the other one, he steadied your hips, grinding his hips against you. You almost felt embarrassed by how aroused you were, and how quick you were wet. Seconds later, you could feel his fingers separate your folds, “Spread your legs, whore.”

As you spread them, you finally noticed how many people were actually here, and how to the untrained eye it just looked like he was hugging you, but his fingers were now scissoring inside you, stretching you.

You could feel him taking his cock out of his sweatpants, brush it in your folds. You were always so sensitive, the smallest of touches against your clit would make you cry out and moan, so it was no surprise that you let out some noises as his cock entered in you.

“Make one more noise, and I won’t be scared to fuck you senseless in front of all these people,” he whispered in your ear again, this time rocking his hips into you.

“Such a slut, huh? Tell me you’re a slut,” he said, and when he noticed that you didn’t do as he said, he completely stopped all movements. You couldn’t thin straight with his dick sitting inside of you, you needed to get off, and this neediness of yours made you want to crawl into a grave and die.

“I- I’m a slut,” you whispered, and Jungkook wouldn’t have been able to heard that, if he wasn’t basically glued to you.

“S-say it again,” he stuttered and you could feel the both of you coming closer.

“I’m a slut! I’m a whore for you, Jungkook,” you whispered, as you felt yourself cum. As for him, instead of cumming in you, like you thought he would, he took himself out, and jerked off in your panties. The feeling of his cum against your soaked panties was lecherous to say the least, you could feel your panties stick to your clit, almost as a reminder of the disgusting deed you’d just done.

“Keep those on until you get home, such a fucking bitch, fucking her boyfriend in a bus,” Jungkook whispered in your ear, and stepped off the bus after slapping your ass.

And you were left alone again, thinking if you really were the slut he made you out to be.

Your next interaction with Jungkook had been next week, when you both had decided to do the English homework together, at his house. While you spent at least two hours, researching on the topic, Jungkook had simply bullshitted the entire essay in half an hour. Sigh, this is why he was failing. As you were left on his bed, completing the essay, he sat on the other end, gaming with Taehyung and some random boy through his PlayStation party.

Finally, another two hours later, you were done with the horrid essay and were desperately craving your loving and adoring boyfriend’s attention.

“Jungkook,” you tried to get his attention, but didn’t even turn around to look at you. You continued to annoy him, “Kookieee,”

Suddenly, you saw a blast on the screen, as Jungkook slammed his controller on the floor.

He muted his mic before speaking, “You just don’t wanna be a good girl for me today, huh?” At this point, you straddled his lap. He picked you up without a glimpse of hesitation, settling you between his legs, as he took out his cock.

“Suck me, and be quiet about it, unless you want Tae to hear what a desperate bitch you are,” he says, and you’re left to suck him. Jungkook definitely wasn’t small, not even close. In fact, when hard, he was bigger than you had expected dicks to be. So, 4 rounds of battle later, your jaw had started to ache, and you couldn’t help but cry out an elicit moan, forgetting Tae could hear everything.

Jungkook turns off his gaming station as soon as he hears you, “I think I told you to shut the fuck up, but you’re just too fucking stupid to understand,” he says as he harshly picks you up by your ponytail.

“I’m gonna fuck you, gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be nothing but a dumb bitch hungry for cock,” he says as he thrashes you on the bed, stretching you out with his fingers.

Before adjusting his dick, and putting it in front of your entrance, he slaps your cunt, “that’s for fucking my game night, you bitch,” and he enters you, rough and fast.

He pushed his hair back, it’s been growing again, as he looks at you with his doe eyes again, this time they’re a shade darker. This turns you on, as you let out a whimper, “Jungkook c-close,”

“Cream yourself on my dick, go on, my dumb baby,” he chuckles, before increasing his speed, the sound of skin slapping filling the silence of the room, “Such a desperate cock slut, you can’t get off with me, huh?”

Moments later, when you both cum simultaneously, he lays down next to you and stares at the ceiling.

“What are you thinking of?” he asks, minutes after your silence. This time, he’s not harsh, but instead you’re surprised by his loving tone.

“Just thinking if you love me or not,” you mumble, closing your eyes, missing the surprised look on his face, eyes wide open, jaw ajar.

“Wha- Baby, of course I love you,” he stutters on his words, not knowing what to say. What had made you believe that he wasn’t head over heels in love with you?

“I just… I don’t know, I don’t like it when you call me names,” you explain already feeling embarrassed at being such a prude.

“Baby girl,” he sits up, and kisses your cheek, “you should’ve told me, I- I’m sorry,”

Jungkook looked like a hurt puppy, his eyes downcast, as he fiddled with his fingers. The next week, he had spent making sure you felt like the Princess you were, his Princess. Obviously, you had noticed his behavior, bringing a donut along with the chocolate milk, ditching football practice to meet you, kissing your hands every time he met you, peppering you with kisses.

“Kook, you don’t have to do this,” you exclaimed when he took you to see the beach, two hours away from the town.

“I just my Baby to know that I love her, and I want her to be happy,” he says, and for the first time, you feel like you’re free. You’re free when you’re with him and you love it.

You’re always happy with him. You loved his sloppy kisses, his shit eating grin when his fingers made you cum, his habit of bringing you chocolate milk every day, his scent which was a mixture of cologne and cigarettes, his hoarse voice after he wakes up. You knew no matter how much he accidentally hurt you, he loved you too.

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