#why do i wanna fuck the alien bird man?

[constellaj]

i saw that post of you wanting pople to ask you about your regular show rewrite and i saw the bits of it you posted and i wanna know more

okayyyee sry this is a late response

like most things I invented this lore alongside @crystalfloe and she's brilliant and amazing and the guy who got me into regular show

first things first you need to understand this is. for some fucking reason. a lore heavy regular show au/rewrite. it's so cringe man. please remember this is regular show

that aside the general premise is that The Park is haunted/cursed. The Park is a magical landmark that wants to preserve itself + nature and needs guardians/workers to take care of it. so it "selects" people (normally those who live on park property).

Mordecai and Rigby do not know this. they are 2 normal human dudes who suck at life and desperately need a job so they go to The Park, which they know always has Help Wanted signs (because nobody wants to work at The Cursed Park).

They meet Benson, who Is A Gumball Machine, and they're like... yooo wtf. they don't know why he's like this. but in this world it's not unheard of for weird mutants or objectheads to exist, so they decide not to ask questions because dude that's totally insensitive.

Benson hands them an employee contract and stresses that they Need to Read the Fine Print if they want to work here. Mordecai and Rigby do not read the fine print. They freak the fuck out when The Park starts Cursing them by turning them into animals.

Turns out The Park is a big fan of character development, and mutates the people it Selects to encourage it; if mordecai and rigby stop being dicks, their mutations reverse. This is how you get blue haired anime boy with wings out of a greasy emo art dropout. The general Plot of their lives know is dealing with this forced character development, hiding their mutations because they're 20 and easily embarrassed, and learning to work with them instead of fight against them.

Mutations generally follow a theme based on the Most Character Development Needed. Benson is uptight, doesn't know how to relax, and is awful with children, so he's Cursed™ into being a literal candy dispenser. Mordecai has shit self-esteem, so he's a flashy preening bird. There is nothing wrong with Rigby Rigby doesn't shower /has general living issues so he's a literal rodent but one that's actually known for its hygiene.

If you become aware of The Curse, The Park gets pissy and makes it so you can't reverse your mutations. This is what happened to Skips; his anger issues when he was younger translated into being a gorilla, and then he found out how it worked /tried to game the system, and now he's stuck like that. It can still get worse, but it can't get better

Muscleman + hi five are a unique case. 'Mitch' was a park employee who was an insane daredevil with no regard for his own safety, who ramped a car into a flaming pit and died in the wreckage (maybe this was The Curse, who knows). MM and HF are the aftermath; MM is the zombie corpse reanimated, and HF is Mitch's ghost/soul. Neither of them remember their past or even know that they're technically the same guy, and there's like a whole character arc around that and realizing that you're a different person now

Techmo is also a unique case (thumbs up for techmo enjoyers). instead of being a human who was cursed, he was actually created directly by the park to be a nature guardian. he got a little silly obsessive evil with it until he realized what The Park was doing to him, so he left and got into technology in an effort to distance himself from the nature of The Park as much as possible. There's parallels now between him and Mordecai; Mordecai has main character syndrome, and so The Park is trying to basically make him a second Techmo.

Pops is. Uhhh I don't think we worked Pops out fully. He's an alien still and not actually tied to The Park the same way the others are, which gives him a little more freedom. Plus he doesn't need character development he's already the perfect man

generally, The Park isn't actually an inherently *good* entity. It has goals and a specific mindset it wants its Guardians to have, and part of the nuance of working at The Park is balancing helpful character development (such as Benson learning to relax) with The Park's fucked up selfish agenda (like replacing Mordecai's mind to have the ideal Guardian. don't worry about it).

and that's the regular lore

#regular show #ask #au

[shittyrpmusing]

VIGILANTE (PEACEMAKER) - SENTENCE STARTERS

Mentions of NSFW topics and violence. Alter as needed!

“If someone doesn’t have their pinky toe they’ll fall over! It’s the most important toe on the human body!”

“I’m just looking from behind a trash can, it’s a normal thing to do!”

“Fuck this, no way! It’s over, you won! Fair fight! I gotta go!”

“If I keep changing my facial expressions, they won’t be able to recognize me in a lineup!”

“Fine, I don’t care! I’ll get on the ground all day long!”

“FUUUCK! It hurts to walk on!”

“Which one of you dumb sister-fucking, tiki torch carrying, Sloth from the Goonies pieces of shit wants to go next?”

“Do you have cable? I don’t wanna stay here overnight if there’s no cable. Fargo’s on tonight.” 

“I’m just the guy who’s gonna fuck you so hard your asshole’s gonna be dragging behind you like a tail.” 

“Oh! Okay, then I change my answer to just ignoring the question.” 

“Well how else am I gonna experience motherhood?” 

“Oh, okay, now we definitely have to kill them ‘cause you’re giving stuff away about my secret identity!” 

“Don’t fuck with my BFF!”

“We can’t use duct tape, that’ll hurt their skin when they try to pull it off.” 

“I’m fine, seriously. All I need is a good nap.” 

“Look man, I’m begging you, will you please, PLEASE look at my crotch?”

“We only kill bad people! Usually. Unless there’s a mistake.”

“Listen, I’ve been meaning to thank you for allowing me to be tortured last night.” 

“You have to admit, it was kinda sweet how he wanted that monkey and that man to be friends.” 

“Shouldn’t you kill him, then?”

“My dad never made me anything. He was too busy pretending to be gay to get away from me.” 

“It’s our day off, I thought we’d get wasted!”

“I’m getting this weird feeling that you’re angry.” 

“Dude, a butterfly is a type of bird.” 

“You’re a little intense right now. Like, I don’t wanna be uncool but your face looks really weird when it goes into all those various angry positions.” 

“There’s no wrong time to rock, motherfucker!”

“Dude, this is a really weird time to do your face exercises.” 

“Try introspection on THAT, motherfucker! ... I’m sorry.”

“I WAS about to go, and then you had to say THAT! Now if I acquiesce, I’ll look and feel small!”

“If you’re gonna be sarcastic, you should really warn people so there’s no confusion.” 

“Your blades are dull as fuck, man! Why don’t you maintain your torture shit?!”

“Just because they’re aliens doesn’t mean they’re gross. BIGOTRY!”

“I’m not sure I’m ever gonna walk again.” 

“You’ll fall over all the time and look stupid and everyone will laugh at you.” 

“I thought that man and that chimp were friends. I was thinking they were gonna go on an adventure together.” 

“Aw, fuck! I’m never ever gonna kill someone with a fucking chainsaw!”

“I would read anything you wrote, dude. I bet you could do some bomb poetry.” 

“Yeah? Well, welcome to the fucking club!”

“There’s your answer! AHAHAHA!”

“Are you here to put babies in us like in Alien?”

“I think they jumped over those bullets.” 

“Look, at worst, he’s paralyzed.” 

“I’m gonna make a collage of the three of us fuckin’ some chicks with a bunch of dolphins around us doing beer bongs in a Corvet.” 

“We used to go out, kill bad guys, boom boom boom, no problem. We accidentally kill the wrong person? Oh shoot, that stinks-- then we move on!”

#peacemaker #sentence starters #sentence prompts #rp meme #rp memes #rp sentence prompts #rp starter #rp sentences

[skoople]

speaking of wasn’t the misogyny in chicken little fucked up. I know you’ve said this exact thing before but goddamn they literally brainwashed her

it was so fucked up and today we'll be discussing the misogyny suffered by chicken little (2005) characters Abby Mallard and Foxy Loxy. dont be fucking mean to them or else.

first of all the level of appearance based misogyny directed towards this little bird was more accurate to middle school in the early 2000s than anything turning red did.

they do this fisheye lens and call her Ugly Duckling* which is like rude and indicative of social status in canon, but just a real fucking dick move by animators making a movie for kids (including girls who get bullied for their appearance and the peers that bully them).

*expanding on the Ugly Duckling thing, connor @turochamp made a really good point on a call about the fact that shes going to grow up to be a swan and therefore beautiful and Deserving Of Respect. if i were writing this and i did a flash forward, i would make her an adopted gosling and she would be on estradiol.

Abby is consistently mocked by the narrative (but rarely if ever mocked by her own friends) for being emotional and trying to help her friends with their emotions. why, as a person making a movie for children, would you tell children this is bad? because you are the kind of person who would write that rotten bastard buck cluck as sympathetic.

if you are ever mean to Abby Mallard ever in your life i will hunt you down and you have to be nice to her she is just a sweet little bird look at how she sits in the theatre seat

moving on to Foxy Loxy. female bully characters often get treated especially poorly because they get little, if any, defense. they are often used as an outlet for misogyny in some truly ugly ways. the most common version you see is making them in some way more "masculine" than the sympathetic female characters.

shes stockier (which im honestly relieved for; the alternative would have lead to bad places), she wears overalls, and shes a proficient athlete in both dodgeball and baseball. if we're talking about female bullies being made to seem more masculine, it's also worth mentioning that Goosey Loosey (left) is voiced by Mark Walton for the few speaking lines she has.

now it's time to get into the part of the movie that anyone older than 14 was very disturbed by:

what the hell and also fuck was this supposed to be if not something truly evil?

jesus christ man i dont even know what to say but if its been a while since youve watched the film, heres a refresher of the sequence of events. spoilers for a 17 year old movie:

aliens rampage through town, vaporizing citizens and teleporting them into an interdimensional holding cell

the vaporization process impacts foxy loxys brainwaves, making her overtly feminine and extremely dumbed down

the aliens, now reconciled with chicken little and his piece of shit father, offer to "unscramble" foxy loxys brain

runt of the litter stops them, claiming that "shes perfect!" and implying that the two of them are now romantically involved

what the fuck. i dont even know what to say. this is so nightmarishly bad that im just gonna skip to some final notes.

there are a couple last points that i wanna bring up, such as the action movie adaptation of their adventures at the end of the film.

yes this is real official disney art that they thought was fine

you may have noticed earlier on in the movie Abby emphasizing the importance of closure using a magazine intended to parody Cosmo, featuring a duck model on the cover. a duck that looks very similar to that model portrays Abby in the action movie version. here's my impression of the writers room. "do you gentlemen see this drawing of a 13 year old bird? well, shes a girl, so we have to make sure that we give her BODY DYSMORPHIA!" . clap.

Foxy Loxy's movie design only appears in the video game adaptation but i felt it was worth mentioning. she, like Abby, is weirdly oversexualized in this (theres only so far you can take the "its a parody" argument), but i want you to take note of her teeth. thats right she has evil metal fangs, intended to evoke her real-life counterparts braces. once again, just a real dick move as a choice for people making an animated movie for kids

the last point of misogyny i want to bring up is that suffered by Chicken Little himself. he did suffer misogyny, especially from the animators pre-transition. what's transition for a little animated chicken?

why, its when they finally decide to make him a boy so that hes more relatable to an audience of boys and boy-alternatives (i heard theyre called girls but im not sure. i dont work for barbie.) so they solidify this decision by going through all his 3d models and deleting the little pink bow he wore. also they fridged his mom (her name is chloe btw) to make buck cluck more sympathetic and explain his awful parenting. it did not work even a little bit.

theres also something to be said about how the mom alien is treated as the softer but deferent emotional voice, but the dad alien is ultimately justified in the mayhem he creates.

TLDR: this is a disney movie about playing baseball for your father's approval and it did not treat women very well. there were too many mean-spirited choices to dismiss, but they were choices, and the structure of the movie can remain intact with a decent rewrite.

#chicken little #long post #asks #anon #btw if you understand that abby is transgender it becomes so much worse knowing that this is transmisogyny too #disney critical

[pearblossommina]

ToG Read-A-Long, Empire of Storms, day 11

SOMEHOW I DIDN’T REALIZE HOW CLOSE TO THE END WE ARE. I think it’s because I checked this book out from the library virtually to make it easier to carry with me, and I’ve just been reading on my phone. I pulled out the physical copy to read this morning since it’s my day off, and now I realize this the last 100 pages. The traditional, SJM style, shit-hitting-the-fan smorgasbord.

(Bring it on)

Ch 65

Did anybody else try to pair the gods with their main cast counterpart?

“one that was of sea and sky and storms” Rowan

“one of many shifting voices, both animal and human” Lysandra

“one who saw all with wise, calm eyes” Elide? Or maybe Dorian?

“the one of darkness and death.” Lorcan

“the one with a voice of steel and shields and arrows.” Maybe Gavriel? Or Aedion, I guess?

“The one with three faces” Manon

“The princess whirled, her hunting leathers stained and damp, the gold tips on her braided hair clinking.”

NEHEMIA! I missed you so much, honey!

This isn’t Nehemia though, it’s just an echo, just a memory, but oh, it’s still so good to see her again 😭

Ch 66

“When Aelin and Manon had vanished into that mirror, Dorian suspected it was only Aedion's roaring that had made Rowan snap out of the blood fury he'd descended into. And only the throbbing bruise on Dorian's cheek that made Rowan refrain from giving him a matching one.”

He didn’t know what was about to happen though. Idk. I feel like it was a pretty genius idea, there was no way he could have known shit was about to hit the fan. And that they wouldn’t be back.

(They’re gonna come back, right?)

“Maybe Manon Blackbeak would help her do it. Maybe they'd rule over the ruins together.

He wished he'd had more time to talk to the witch. To get to know her beyond what his body had already learned.”

I wish you did, too, Dorian, but you were too busy being horny! Lol

(I can’t say I blame you)

(Live your best life Dorian)

Ch 67

“Rowan had not possessed an army of his own to give to Aelin. To give to Terrasen.

So he had won an army for her. Through the only things Aelin had claimed were all she wanted from him.

His heart. His loyalty. His friendship.”

Omg, Rowan 🥺

GET YOURSELF A MAN WHO GIVES YOU HIS HEART. HIS LOYALTY. HIS FRIENDSHIP.

That’s how you know. He’s top tier husband material.

If Maeve hurts Elide I’m going to scream.

I’ll riot.

I swear.

Ch 68

It’s so fucking devastating to read about Nehemia, plotting her own very violent death.

That shit was so traumatic.

NEHEMIA. I kind of don’t forgive you? Like, did you even realize? How fucked up it was? To die - so violently - so horrifically - but - you didn’t HAVE TO. Aelin was the one who HAD TO. You gave Elena your death.

And for what!

To traumatize your friend into action!

I hate it. I hate it SO MUCH.

The Elena pulling the strings behind it all reveal here. It’s very unsettling, in a high fantasy kinda way. I like the way it feels, that ultimate pain, ultimate sacrifice, chosen one trope, but I don’t believe for a minute that Alien has to die to save the world.

I know we can find another way to solve this riddle. Maybe that’s why Manon’s here. She’s nameless, too, in a way, since she was disavowed as the Heir to the Blackbeak clan.

Or maybe you can give up your name, symbolically. And then be truly nameless. Maybe you can trick Maeve into giving up her name, and kill two birds with one stone here.

Ch 69

(Nice)

This fighting continues.

ABRAXOS is back! Babyyyyyyy! ILU so much! Thank you for coming back so triumphantly!

Ch 70

It feels so unnatural to stop here

I wanna finish reading!

I wanna know what happens next!

#tog read along 2023 #empire of storms

[innestahtinen]

Letterboxd doesn't have the cinematic masterpiece Knievel's Quest: Bigfoot (2020) so I'll put my running thoughts here.

Note: all the stuff in apostrophes are direct quotes, taken from the video transcript.

- saying that 'my friends all call me Squatchie' doesn't feel like a compliment by any stretch

- the 'biggest wood carving of Bigfoot' looks like a man covered in feathers or leaves, my closest cultural reference is either Rose Matafeo yelling Stella on Taskmaster, or the Cripple MOAB upgrade for Sniper Monkeys in btd6

- 'if you refer to Dr Ivan T Sanderson's book The Abominable Snowman: Legend Comes to Life and as well as John Green's work or any of the four horsemen' let me consult my textbook; The Abominable Snowman by Dr R.A. Montgomery, its on my shelf right next to Director H.I. Larry's guides on how to be spies.

- one of the people they idolise is a Mr Tom Slick, who allegedly went to the Himalayas and found some Yeti feces, their hero is someone who found some shit on a mountain and said, 'yeah, that's from a fucking yeti' At this point, I'm 7 minutes into this 92 minute doco.

- 'There is no registry of DNA for the Sasquatch creature, from an ignorant race of science and academics' Science is full of it and you can't trust it, listen to me, and Evel Knievel's son, and four randos who wrote books about big monkeys, and our hero who scooped up shit.

- 'The right habitat for Bigfoot? I have no clue. I've heard they've been cited [sic] in a lot of places but mostly the Northwest.' Down here in Australia we have our own bigfoot thing, called a Yowie. the first picture on Google, when I looked it up to see if I was making something up, has a big furry humanoid holding a kangaroo by the tail. You might know that down here we've got the best climate for thick-furred animals, big deserts, water, and rainforest. I don't really have a point here, it just what comes to mind.

- the guy I just quoted previously wants to find a Bigfoot, 'I hope it's a female 'cause it might only last for two minutes. And then I could have a half a bigfoot, a half - nevermind'

- I can't tell any of these people apart, but one of them is crediting the creation of Mountains and Valleys to bigfoot

- I've heard it from some video that the best thing to do with documentaries like this is to mute them and admire the scenery, might have been QuintonReviews, might have been Diamondbolt, I don't remember

- there's been like 10 minutes with not much to talk about or make fun of or anything, because they went to a bookshop and these two guys are talking about making maps, which is neat, and aging trees to try and find where the original footage was shot.

- ' A: "I wanna build a treehouse and live here and just be out here" B: "Well that tactic might work." ' of course it might, if you want to see birds without them seeing you, you might go behind a hide, can't really go above them because they might look up, they're birds, I don't know if there's many stories of bigfoot climbing trees.

- there's a guy who was apparently a park ranger who had an encounter with a sasquatch, and he had a camera, but he'd used all his film already taking pictures of illegal logging, oh what a shame, if only if only. He's full of it.

- so the guy, who I think is Evel Kinievels son, said 'oh, it could be aliens' and the guy at the museum said 'it's possible' don't bring aliens into your shitty bigfoot theories, I'm not doing it again this year (earlier in the year, I watched another bad documentary called 'The Bigfoot Alien Connection Revealed' which was much easier to find humor in because it was someone theorising, and then standing in a shed for 10 minutes. It was terrible, I recommend it)

- so in the museum they've got loads of footprint casts, and 'Now the guy that found all these originally was a hoaxer', so I've got to wonder, Why do you believe these?

- as is the norm, all the descriptions are different, with one guy telling about how he saw Bigfoot; a) at like 6 in the morning, and b) in 2005, walking along with arms perpendicular but turned in. I asked for a hand with a cultural reference so that you might know what I meant, and my brother suggested Pennywise, before he started to dance, and I thought of Lonely Island's The Creep.

- another "witness" said that he knew it was a bigfoot, not a bear, because it had an ass.

- consistency isn't their strong suit, said earlier about how the best place is the Northwest, up to Alaska, a guy now is saying the best place is Texas, if you want to hear the {Bigfoot Plural, Bigfoots, Bigfeet} call. Just a coincidence that Texas is probably warmer than Oregon, Montana, Washington, whatever, and so other Bigfoot hunters can go there at night and not feel as cold.

- I know you're a stuntman, but I don't care, I'm watching this for the stupid bigfoot explanations, not history of you jumping things

- so for you to catch a bigfoot, you'd probably want to put it in a cage like in Atlantis: The Lost Empire, and you couldn't take it out by truck, because other ones might try and help it escape, so you'd want to airlift it out.. oh wait, that's the ending of Cryptid Island from Poptropica. Even if you did get it in, it'd just escape like Stoeffel the Honey Badger

- 'You're telling me that two broke cowboys from Yakima Washington drove all the way down here, they went 25 miles up this rugged canyon to fake a monkey suit?' Yeah, so that you know that noone would be in the background. You go out into the woods randomly, you might, you go 25 miles away, where there aren't any roads yet, and you won't.

- 'we have 10 zillion things in the ocean we'll never see' I hope there's a Kraken, or just megafauna in general. Anything from Lego Atlantis.

- and for the last 20 minutes, they'll finally go camping, hoping to see something, will they? Of course not.

- the guy I think is Knievel's son said something about how he's had a bunch of spooky and scary experiences around Washington State, and to enhance that for the audience, they put an overlay of a person in a dark hood, OooOOoh, and a jumpscare from a game, of a pale figure with blood on it, spoOOoky.

- and they're doing exactly what I was hoping, they've left their camp slightly out of frame, and are yelling in a forest.

- the one thing I'll give them credit for is the video cameras they have out in the woods, apparently they've been there for 8 years, filming 24/7, and it's collecting videos and clips that could be used for conservation and monitoring of animals, according to them they've even seen a Humbolt Marten, a weasel type thing that was apparently extinct, look them up, they're kinda cute.

- I give it 2/5 stars; the stuff about maps and tree aging was interesting, love Bigfoot, and the work with their wildlife cameras is admirable, but it was boring the rest of the time.

Thank you, this has been Something Something with Innes Tahtinen.

#bigfoot #poptropica #lego atlantis

[ex-textura]

I've been playing Mass Effect 2....

Does this make me a monsterfucker?

#mass effect #me2 #mass effect garrus #garrus vakarian #i said this better not awaken something in me #and then it did #why do i wanna fuck the alien bird man? #what's going on here? #mass effect 2 #mass effect legendary edition

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Page of Swords

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | three

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You attempt a new skill. Mando attempts to teach you.

Word count: 4.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: gun usage/mentioning throughout, mature language, pining, more dirty thots-ish, angst because why not, does this count as fluff? sure, gun kink if you squint w/o your glasses

Notes: As the reader (you/us) begins to become more familiar with Mando, his perspective starts bleeding in to the narrative, without a blocked off POV. Also, the reader’s past will start weaving (incoherently?) into the story as well. The large italicized chunks denote past tense interactions (which is probably obvious but who knows any more). Cheers x (gif credit: @djarinsgf)

A shot rings out.

Birds explode from the canopy with offended squawks, squalling in a winged flurry to scatter every which way until they recede again into the green, disappearing back into their hiding places. You groan. You thought you’d be better at this.

It’s not that you thought you were some sort of savant, you just didn’t expect to be this bad. Honestly, it’s embarrassing—you’re embarrassingly terrible— like statistically, you should have hit something by now, but you just keep missing—a crowded tree line in front of you, and not a scratch in sight—nary a singed branch nor a bullet holed trunk. It’s almost impressive how poor of a shot you are—and you would be, if you weren’t so damn exasperated with the whole affair. With a frustrated grunt, you throw your hands up, brandishing the weapon haphazardly.

“Careful,” Mando warns slyly, “you could hurt someone with that thing.”

“Yeah, well at least I’d hit something,” you grumble.

The kid had been fussy - almost unbearably so - in the weeks that followed your short stint on Bajic, and your party was itching for some time off the Razor Crest. After his third tantrum in a day, Mando decided to land on some unknown planet you couldn’t even spell to stretch your legs and take a breather.

You had almost sobbed when you saw him drag his menagerie of weaponry over. You knew what this meant, you knew what came next—his weekly, routine buff.

You think he’s doing it on purpose.

Ever since the first time, when you damn near had a conniption ogling him, you swear it’s like he’s doing it just to mess with you. He isn’t—of course he isn’t, rationally you knew that, in fact there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. He’s a Mandalorian—weapons are apart of his religion for kriff’s sake—but Maker does it seem intentional. Premeditated. It’s like you can feel the blistering ray of his gaze on you as he takes his time, roving a leathered hand over the bulge of the shaft—greasing it, stripping it, part by metal part…

It’s all in your head, you told yourself. It’s all in your fucking head and you need to get a grip.

Immediately you sprang into action, busying yourself with anything you could get your stupid, little hands on—in this case, being one of his many blasters.

“I wanna give it a go,” you said.

He let you, surprisingly. He hesitated, at first, his helmet tipping at a disbelieving angle. But he gave in—it took less effort on your part than you’d figured—and Mando conceded. He obliged.

How hard could it be? You thought.

Famous last words.

He’s parked there, settled on a throne of crates pushed flush to the Crest, slouched against the outer hull of the ship as he cleans, from the looks of it, every item in his arsenal—a front row seat to your pathetic endeavor and you’re failing—epically, ridiculously—shot after errant shot.

You line yourself up, scrunching your face in concentration as you bare the blaster in your hands. Maybe this time…

You fire off a round and an animal scampers scared in the thicket. Nothing. Another sublime miss.

You hear a noise come from Mando’s direction, something subtle like a blip of static through his helmet - Maker, he’s laughing at you - and you pivot around to him.

“What,” you ask, although it's less of a question and more of a griping pout. He replies with silence, that fickle language he's mastered to perfection all on his own, his focus pitched down to the bristled rod he’s driving in and out of his rifle, scouring out the residue from the inner barrel. “Ugh, what Mando?” you say, just shy of a whine, one hand slotted on your hip, the other dangling by your side, the pistol foreign and cumbersome in your grasp.

“Didn’t say anything,” he replies with a half shrug, his pauldrons shifting so imperceptibly you almost miss it. You pause, hurling him a look that misses him completely before you heave a frustrated sound.

“Fine, you show me how it’s done then.”

The T of his visor finds you. Its cold and unknowable as he rolls his helmet, tilting it up to you, hands slowing their ministrations to a rest. He’s wears a glare, carved into the steel hollow of the plates—unamused and smoldering—and with it, you feel small; microscopic and withering under his pointed gaze— suddenly too exposed in the open patch of jungled wilderness they’ve landed in and your mouth tweaks, teeth grazing the plush there. You assume he won’t do it. There’s no way he’ll rise to such obvious of a challenge, but he’s sighing—you can see it in the slant of his armor—and marching towards you before you can take it back, drawing closer and closer until Mando’s slated in front of you, expectant and postured and you forget— like the skip of a record, you forget why he’s even there— not a foot before you— and your eyes dance across his helm, flickering back and forth.

“May I?” he nods down to the pistol in your hand and you start - oh, shit - and offer it to him clumsily.

Mando squares off against the untamed green. The air lays hot and sticky around them. There is no trace of wind, no glimmer of breeze, and his cape hangs mute down his back. You’d never seen him fire his weapon. He surrounded himself with them, sure, always had at least two strapped to him at all times— probably even slept with one, you reckon— but you’ve never seen him use one.

With one solid movement, he cranes his arm, taking aim.

Now, you aren’t one to condone violence, but he just looks right doing it; an extension of himself with how natural it is, how innate— an added appendage, born unto him. The pistol looks good in his fist, like it couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else, the orange tips of his glove curling around the hilt, looping over that sensitive release.

He has practiced hands. Methodical. Sturdy. It’s sensual, to watch him like this. Pornographic even— sacrilege in a way. A part of you wants to look away and turn your gaze, grant him privacy as he handles the blaster— delicately, confidently. It’s intimate.

The pistol croons in his palm. She bends, supple and lilting. He knows just where to touch, where to stroke— she does anything he tells her. She melts for him.

Warmth pools in your mouth. Mando pulls the trigger.

He lands an impressive shot onto an impossibly narrow tree trunk nestled further in, and your features contort with amazement. Maybe you want to see it again—like a nosy neighbor peeping in through drawn curtains. Maybe you’re being reckless and smarmy, and maybe you know it. A Mandalorian’s got a gun in his hand and you’re prodding him - brilliant strategy, top marks - but your adrenaline is pumping something fierce and you feel yourself grow bold with each seize of your heart.

“Lucky shot,” you huff.

He pans to you, lolling his head, visor locked onto your face. Without flinching, without gracing you with a remark, he raises his arm and fires— doesn’t even have to kriffing look. The scorch mark sizzles - haughtily, jeering - no more than a few inches away from the first. You nearly choke on the arrogance of it— the lazy, smug performance— like he can’t be bothered with any of it, as if your taunts are all so beneath him.

You have to bite down on your lip to stop it from snaking into a wicked grin.

Mando offers the pistol back to you, flipping it grip-side up in a fancy flourish before striding - strutting - back to his post. You shake your head, a determined set to your jaw and you retake your aim, squinting in the hazy afternoon light, pulling the trigger— and nothing happens.

Again, click. Nothing, click after fruitless click. You make a face, pinching—

“Safety’s on.”

You flush, thanking the Maker that your back is towards him, and switch it down with your thumb. “Right,” you mumble sheepishly, wetting your lip. You align your sights, bracing yourself for the impact—

“It’s your stance.”

Three words.

Three words, the only solace Mando provides before devoutly returning to his work.

You wait for him to elaborate, to edify you— for any manner of sage advice— but the explanation never comes; he leaves you like this, marooned with three fucking words and you have to screw your eyes shut. This man is baffling— maddeningly unhelpful— infuriatingly sparse. It makes you want to howl and rip your hair out— and you whip around violently.

“What about my st-”

Your question comes scampering to a halt, tail between your legs, throat gone dry. Mando has planted himself directly behind you— standing so close you can see your reflection in his beskar, see the blush blurring your cheek under the alien sun.

“What uh, what about my stance?” you ask, mousier now, swallowed up by the sheer size of him so near to you.

“It’s not wide enough.”

You glance down at your feet before looking back up to him. “What do you mean?”

“Turn around,” he says.

You quirk your brow at him before he repeats himself. “Turn around and spread your legs. Hips distance apart.”

Fuck, he has no business sounding like that— like bourbon and smoke and iron tang—but you do as he says. You’re shakier than you want to be— you wish you could be cool and collected but you’re not. You’re anything but, and you’re nervous. Maker, Mando makes you nervous— it’s not just the weapon in your hand, it’s him— setting you off and giving you butterflies like you’re some sort of forlorn schoolgirl. You’re a grown woman, and this is what he’s rendered you to— jittery, molten mush. It’s embarrassing. Fucking mortifying.

You guess it’s the day for it.

He doesn’t touch you, but it hardly matters; you can sense him there all the same, a shadow in your peripheral. He leaves a thick breath of space between your bodies and with your back towards him, you can feel the waves of heat radiate off the bounty hunter, pulsing out out out from him and it’s almost intolerable— as if you’ve flown too close to the sun, waxed wings melting in pearled streaks down your spine.

You scuttle your feet open, parting just outside your hips.

“Arms up,” he says, and you hoist them into position. You’re sure you look as awkward as you feel, if not more, all the angles of your body feeling perfectly wrong and misplaced. “Relax your elbows,” he adds, and you do— you try to, at least.

“Too much. Somewhere in between.���

You try again, strengthening through your triceps and down your forearms.

“Better,” Mando gives. You think you feel him nodding approvingly behind you. “The important-”

Kriff, you panic.

You spin towards him, dropping your form and cutting him off with a humbled, worried look, throwing up barricades and hurdles— landmines for him to dodge. Or step on.

“Wait hey Mando, you don’t- I don’t want to take up your time,” you begin.

“You aren’t.”

“I’m serious, I don’t want to bother you with this.”

“You’re not.”

You blink.

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right.”

He speaks so plainly, unvarnished and matte— unflinchingly earnest in a way that gives you pause. It leaves no wiggle room for interpretation and you sigh, defeated, shoulders slumping as you haul yourself back around.

“Arms up,” he reiterates, but there’s no malice there; he sounds kind— untroubled. It always surprises you how mild he can be— Mando should be anything but, he’d have every reason to, but he’s calm. Patient. You wonder if he even realizes it, if he even recognizes the tenor of his own voice— how gentle it can be— under the helmet. Despite it.

“Think of your posture as firm, without tensing,” Mando explains. “Soften your knees, don’t lock them— same goes for your arms— don’t stiffen against the recoil, let your body absorb it.”

You mirror what he coaches, shooting him a curious, hopeful look over your shoulder.

“There. Good,” he says. “Now, which is your dominant eye?”

Your arms fall down to your sides. “My what?”

“Dominant eye.”

You give him a baffled look like he’s speaking another language - in all fairness, he is - and Mando emits another puff of air through his modulator, chortling.

“Eye dominance. We’re all either right handed or left handed. Eyes work the same— right eyed or left eyed. We favor one or the other— you’ll focus that one to aim.”

Oh, huh.

You still appreciatively, basking in the novelty of the information. “Really? I didn’t know that. That’s- that’s actually pretty interesting,” you muse. “Brains and brawn, huh?” You flash a cheeky grin back at him.

Mando grunts, nondescript and unaffected and robotic but he swears he can feel pink creep over his clavicle, tainting the tan of his skin concealed there.

He fits his gloved hand over yours, if only for a second, and you do your best to ignore the rough patch of his leather grazing against the thin flesh there. You try to ignore the chill that sweeps across the curve of your waist, how the peach fuzz prickles up, electrified and magnetized, as he unfurls your fingers from the gun, letting it slip from your grasp. He tucks it under his arm, keeping it pinned there with his bicep.

“Hold your hands out like this.” Mando shows you, creating an oval with his fingers— like a view finder or a scope. You mimic him, feeling like every bit of an idiot, but you don’t contradict him— you do as he does. “Now, set your focus out on a fixed point through your hands,” he instructs and you do, setting your sights on a gnarled tree branch.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Got it,” you respond.

“Now alternate closing each eye. The image should stay in the frame with one, and then shift out of it with the other.”

You frown, concentrating, and close the right before blinking over to the left— kriff, he’s right.

“Oh shit,” you mumble. “My left. It’s my left eye.”

“You sure?”

You check again, squinting through either eye, the tree bouncing in and out of the frame of your fingers. “Mhm. Yeah, my left eye keeps it centered.”

He makes a thoughtful sound. “Left eyed but right handed. Interesting,” Mando murmurs.

You glance up to him, dropping your hands. “Why is that interesting?”

“Not common. The brain’s typically wired the same way all the way down— one side of the body will be dominant. It’s not usually split.”

“You telling me my brain doesn’t work properly, Mando?” you quip dryly.

“You said it, not me.”

He holds the blaster out to you and you swipe it from him with a huffed snort, returning towards the tree line and stars your face hurts. Your face hurts and it’s burning with this asinine smile that’s digging mercilessly into your cheeks. It makes you want to massage your jaw, get the damn thing to relax. Honestly, it makes you want to give yourself a slap.

“Make sure to cross your center with it. Line it up towards the left.”

“Maker, do you think about all this every time you shoot?” you ask, mystified, as you fix your aim.

“Muscle memory takes over eventually. You’ll get there with enough practice.” Mando replies gruffly and you guffaw, loud and wonderfully ugly. You seriously doubt it.

After a series of very near misses— you are getting closer, you’ll give yourself that— your arms grow tired; the joints and muscles protest as you extend them out from your body, taut and tense— the gun dead weight in your wobbly hands.

Your shoulder smarts where you injured the tendon in the explosion. You roll it out, earning snaps and pops as it notches over the bone there. They told you you were lucky. They congratulated you - it’s not a complete tear! - and it’s on the mend well enough, but it’s weak. It doesn’t matter the weight of the object.

The longer you hold anything, the heavier it feels.

You suppose you could throw in the towel at any point, but the fact of the matter— as terrible and true as it may be— is you want to impress him. That awful, nagging feeling— you want to impress the Mandalorian. You want him proud of you— you want to be nice and shiny for him to admire, like one of the guns he polishes until it’s sparkling, until he can mount it on display and show it off. It’s absolutely nauseating— but you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to, and you don’t. You don’t want to.

He isn’t blind to it. He sees the exertion, the tax— how beads of sweat congress around your temples, dampening the base of your scalp, butterfly kissing your skin with a sheen. A trail of wet salt, one lone pilgrim, ventures down the back of your neck, wandering lower and lower, past the hem of your shirt, disappearing into the soft valley of your spine where Mando can’t follow. His throat bobs rough against his cowl.

Transferring the pistol into one hand, you shake out the other, flexing through it and relaxing your grip.

“Wait,” he says and you cock your head back at him. Mando’s retreating to his pile of guns, rifling through the metal anthill before selecting something sleek and chrome. “Here,” you exchange pistols, giving him back the bulkier of the two. Immediately you feel the relief of this new one— it’s lighter and smaller, slighter in your grasp, too— and you turn it over in your hands, noting the way the nozzlelike barrel glitters in the sun.

You’d almost consider it pretty if it weren’t a literal killing machine.

“That’s a CDEF model. Lightweight, reliable, Dedlanite casing, standard issue for CorSec officers.”

You nod along, as if you have any clue what he’s talking about— you don’t. You really, truly don’t.

“Should be easier.”

“Mm,” you hum out in ignorant agreement, slotting your arms back up into position.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire.” You rest it against the slide of the barrel, hovering nearby.

Mando shifts closer towards you, the grass grinding under his feet as he takes a half step in to your backside.

“Breathe. Don’t hold it in. Let me hear it.”

Fuck, this feels like a sin; this small gap of distance he’s erected between you as tense, as strained and feverish, as whispered confessions in the dark. Like sneaking back into your parent’s house late at night— the morning moon peering down at you with a heavy lidded gaze— knowing, knowing, keeping your secrets to herself, pressing them to her chest, winking sleepily.

It would be so much easier, so much simpler, if he just put his hands on you. Placed your body where he knows it should be, force you into the shapes and positions he’s so intimate with himself, but he doesn’t. He draws it out. He respects your space and autonomy and it makes it worse. Your imagination fills the void separating you two, and it’s running wild and rampant and depraved and—

“Focus,” he utters, his voice no louder than a purr. You’ve never heard something so mechanical make a sound so deliriously smooth, and you have to suppress a nervous scoff. Focus, he says, as if he isn’t suffocating you with how close he’s standing— as if you aren’t enjoying it— as if you aren’t vibrating down to your very bones at the proximity of the bounty hunter—so close, you bet he can hear them, rattling and slapping against each other deep beneath your skin.

“Remember what I said about your posture,” he suggests quiet-like and murmured, without a trace of condescension there—a harmless reminder. You make the adjustment, fixing your shoulders down your back, and release the stress in your arms.

“Firm without tensing,” you respond under your breath—more for your sake than his— striking it from your mental checklist.

“‘Atta girl.”

No.

No no no, Maker, you feel it. You can fucking feel it—how something low and resonant spasms beyond your belly, the clench of your empty cunt at the encouragement—the heady praise of it all.

Atta girl.

He said it softly - rudely husky - just above a whisper, something tailored specifically for you—almost like it slipped from his lips and he didn’t even notice its passing. It meandered out of him, so easy—too easy. It practically sauntered.

You’re trembling— stars, you hope Mando doesn’t see it. It’s humid and muggy and yet you’re shaking as if it’s freezing, as if you’ve got icicled snot dripping from your nose, and your nerves go haywire, fraying in every direction as you sip in a whistled breath.

You can do this. You can do this. Focus.

“Take the shot,” he orders.

Focus.

Pressing into the slope of the trigger, you fire.

You gasp excitedly— a surprised, whooping laugh tearing through you and you whip around, giddy and beaming - bright, beautiful - a lock of hair sticking to your lip. It’s the youngest, the freest, Mando’s ever seen you; maybe the happiest, too, and his stomach twists at the sight, a tourniquet cinching around him, winding and coiling until he’s convinced it’ll burst. His fingers twitch, every instinct begging him— demanding him— to reach out and return the stray strand behind your ear alongside the others but you beat him to it. Deftly, you flit it away yourself instead, and he’s relieved.

Devastated, too. Gutted.

“Did you see that?” you ask, gleeful as a child.

He pries himself off you, dragging his gaze over your shoulder to where you struck the trunk, a coaled mark charred there into the bark, before returning his attention back to you. You meet his eyes, despite the blackness of his helm— you hold them, for a breathless, ageless moment, you hold him there.

“Not bad.”

He can’t muffle the jolt of his heart as it rumbles through his chest, breaking his mouth wide open into an aching smirk. He doesn’t know if you hear it. He fears you might.

He prays you do.

///

“Cooling vents,”

Metal scrapes against the table as you place the delicate bits down, deconstructing the blaster. The Mandalorian nods, silent as a specter.

“Gas refill valve,”

Another clunk.

“Actuating blaster…” You turn over a particularly knobby bulb before peeking up at Mando through your lashes, a wry grin tugging rosy and coy at your lips. “… thing-”

“Module,” Din corrects.

“Module, right, that’s what I said.”

He sits across the galley from you, arms folded over his chest as he eases back against the hull of the ship, overseeing as you take apart the blaster, the slender little thing he gave to you - he rarely uses it anyways - as you name the pieces and parts just like he’s taught you.

“Keep it,” he told you.

You resisted. You fought it, laughed it off incredulously— stubborn to the end— argued you wouldn’t even have a need for it.

“What am I gonna do with a gun, Mando?” you balked, and Maker he’d hoped you’d never have to use it, would never have to see a firefight in your damn life let alone be in the middle of one, but he wants you to have it— have a part of him, strapped to your hip— the closest he’ll get.

He’s selfish. Din is a greedy, selfish man. He wants to see himself on you, wants you to carry him around like a souvenir from something unforgettable— something irreplaceable— a memory like warm bathwater you dip into long after it passes, and he’ll take whatever he can get— just like you, hungry for anything you’re gracious enough to feed him. And fuck, if he doesn’t hate it— doesn’t want to bury that feeling, cold and lifeless, six feet under the earth. No ceremony. No elegies. Dead and gone, returning to the dust from whence it came, crawling back into the ribcage it sprung from.

Din said your name. Firm— gentle, too.

“Keep it.”

They’ve been at this ever since you managed to hit the target that first time. Hours have passed, dawdling by on the fat little legs of a toddler, plodding and slow. The sun had set, and winged bugs the length of your palm had taken up residency in the dark rainforest, making themselves known with a haunting tune, screeching and singing into the lush wood. After the child had tried making a pass at one, no doubt in the mood for a quick snack - isn’t he always - you had agreed to retire back inside the Crest.

You were so excited, your whole face lit up— like fireworks he remembered once, through the eyes of a boy in the summered night— and you wanted more; like a sponge, sopping up all you could, sucking Din in and ringing him out for it and fuck, he couldn’t say no.

He can’t say no to you.

You start prattling out questions about everything and nothing - what blaster do you prefer, do you have a favorite rifle, what’s the difference between plasma and gas charges, you have a flamethrower on your wrist? - and before long you get him lecturing, going on about weapon safety and trigger discipline and slide bites and ammunition rounds and gun brands and serial numbers and Din knows this isn’t you. You’re a borderline pacifist for kriff’s sake— he’s almost certain that if push came to shove, you’d rather lay down your life than take one. You’re no gunslinger, and you don’t hold any aspirations to become one.

But here you are, fist tucked under your chin and leaning in to him, hanging off his every word.

You have no personal interest in weapons. Frankly you’d be pleased if you never held a gun again in your life. No, and whether Mando realizes it or not, you want to know because it’s him. You want to know him. And maybe it’s because its the most he’s given to you since you stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest— almost a month, and what you’ve gotten from him today alone has been more than he’s given in weeks— not a door so much as it is a window into his life, an allowance, a glimpse behind the beskar. Its more attention, more words and insights, more tiny gestures and maybe you’ve been a little starved for it— maybe you’ll eat up any scraps Mando tosses with a calloused glove, molded and rotting, from his plate.

Even if it’s this, even if its fucking firearms.

You want to know.

It’s who you are: it doesn’t matter what someone’s passionate about, you’re interested in their interests. You care what they care about. If they matter, then it matters. It’s who you are, webbed and weaved into the innermost fabric of your being, and you can’t pretend to be anything else; you don’t know how to unbecome.

You’re splayed before him— a bleating heart, kaleidoscoping and blooming and twisting in his hands. If only you could pry open your chest— turn yourself inside out at the seams, spill yourself to splatter, sanguined and slippery right there on the deck. You’d do it, if you could.

Am I loving enough  Am I giving enough  Have I paid my debts  Am I worth this now, finally— Worth that which I offer, have I earned it back

So effortless, this vignette, seated here in his galley, dismembering a blaster and labeling the parts, terminology klutzy on your tongue— tripping over yourself just to get it out— looking to him for hints and clues, fluttering your doe eyes with cartoonish bats.

He answers. You laugh. He smiles.

The kid is in his pram, entranced by all the shiny baubles and bobbins just out of his reach - thank the Maker -  and giggles at their little game— happy, for once, just to watch.

You and me both kid, Din thinks. You and me both.

#king of cups #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female oc #mando x you #mando x reader #mando x female oc #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #star wars #din djarin #din djarin smut #mando smut #star wars fanfic #slow burn #slow build #fic rec #writing #gun kink #angst #mutual pining #soft!din #pedro pascal #the mandalorian x female oc #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #no y/n

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s son (Part 2)

Tony Stark x son!reader

warnings:

a/n: had to split it into 2 parts bc i hit the text limit dhshaggags

prompt: continued

part 1

~sokovia was ur first big mission~

“why is y/n here, stark?” -cap

“the first mistake was letting me become a father”

“good god, tony...”

you having the time of your life crushing robots

“WHEEEEEE”

also proving useful by saving avengers a handful of times

“thanks for the assist, stark clone” -clint

rip pietro

rhodey was actually the most worried about you if we’re being honest, he didn’t understand why they let you in this one???

“y/n? y/n, talk to me! are you alive?”

“yes, uncle rhodey! i’m perfect, stop worrying!”

“i love you, kid! be safe!”

✨a good family you’ve got✨

soon the avengers broke up bc your dad cant get along with steve and it was just really awkward

but you chose your dad’s side

“sorry, steve! he pays my allowance!”

peter was actually a little okay, you know!! spazzy at first, but he was cool

“dude, you’re y/n stark! you’re tony stark’s very own son! i’m talking to mr. stark’s only child!”

“yep, that’s me. i’m what earned tony the title of ‘DILF’”

teenage teamup? ofc

“am i doing alright?”

“looking a-okay, pete!”

tony was worried fighting steve would traumatize you so he made you wait at the hotel with happy and peter

“don’t do anything to embarrass me, y/n. i dont want to see you on the news for something stupid”

you and peter ended up hanging out in your room and watching tv and ordering room service

“how do you do that so smoothly? i’d just freak out and go get it myself”

“years of experience as a spoiled rich brat”

absolutely positively being up all night and trying to fight your exhaustion

“you two seem to be getting along well. couldn’t be me” -happy

“for someone named happy, you never seem to be happy”

“not around teenagers, no”

“i remember when you loved me, ‘uncle happy’”

peter texted you every day after that

whenever flash picked on peter for “never meeting tony stark” he’d show a picture of you and him taking selfies in the lab together yes you invite him over much to the dismay of everyone else around you

plus tony was out of town and you were finally trusted enough to be left alone unchecked so like, happy would just leave at the first sign of peter

“that’s not real!”

“jealous?”

you actually showed up for homecoming on a dare (but in disguise)

didn’t wanna attract all the attention, you just wanted a high school experience

but you got called into avengers tower to help move early on :/ bad timing too cuz peter had to fight his first villain and u missed it

“dude, how do you feel?”

“bruh sound effect number two”

“oh my god”

FRIDAY heard him and pulled up the sound and you were WEAK you couldn’t stop laughing

“please....i think i broke a few ribs. cant laugh until tomorrow”

tony offered peter the avengers gig and peter said no, you were very disappointed but u understood that not everyone wanted to be in the spotlight like that

but you and peter obviously still hung out

oh, tony proposed! they interviewed you on sight!

“y/n, how does it feel to know that you’re going to have a stepmom soon?”

“you guys are aware that pepper helped raise me, right? right?!”

moving on, life was smooth for a while, there was some wedding planning, talk of you being a best man (which rhodey fought you on)

“no, i’ve known your dad longer!”

“i’m his son!”

i n v a s i o n

oh boy that was rough

bruce was surprised that you had fucking grown so much in the past 3 years good lord

“y/n...your VOICE”

“puberty, i know. when’s it gonna happen to you?”

“it hurts more when it’s from a teenager”

“uh, did you forget my birthday?”

peter’s back! peter’s back!

finally, man

“spider-kid, i could use an assist!”

“on the way!”

“aliens, why did it have to be aliens?”

up up and away for tony and peter, leaving you on the ground with all the earthly chaos and fear

“you two are the absolute worst, you know that? DAD, PETER, GET BACK DOWN HERE”

“no can do, kid. i—” *cuts off*

“oh great, no service on the space donut, huh? find a damn wifi password and call me back you asshole”

pepper was probably having a heart attack bc the news stations were having a field day but you were one of the only active avengers left, meaning you had to help clean this up

“bruce, we gotta get going”

“what? where?”

“upstate”

patching up the avengers as best as you could to take care of the threat

but you guys always win, this should be a cake walk, right?

wrong.

this was bad, very bad

after a lengthy battle with thanos in wakanda, you had failed. thanos got the stones, he snapped. the world was in ruins. but you didn’t get to see that part

you dusted away

“tell dad i’m sorry and i love him”

tony finally came back to earth hoping to see you, but upon seeing pepper’s face, he knew you were gone

“he did everything he could, tony! he didn’t deserve it!”

she was extremely upset, she saw you like a son of her own

soon, her and tony restarted their life and had a daughter, dad always wondered what it’d be like to have a little girl. it was different, it really was

she was eager to meet you

morgan stole pictures of you to hang up in her room

“when i meet y/n, im gonna give him a big hug! then we’ll have a tea party!”

tony has a picture of you and peter in the kitchen, he misses the two of you, but found comfort in the fact that you may be with each other

an ounce of hope, he had to try something

save his only son, and his other son

when he got to 2012, he was disappointed that he hadn’t let you become an avenger yet because he couldn’t see you here

yada yada he fucked up now he’s in the 70s and he fixed the fuck up and now hes in 2023

and bruce snapped

and you were all brought back and the way you kicked ass was inspiring

tony had to see his son now. right now.

“y/n, dear god! you’re okay! oh, man. i love you so much, kid. i missed you”

“i love you too. and i can’t believe you went to space without me, meanie”

“get over it”

ah, back to old times

peter and you obviously had to team up for this one! come on, what a story to tell!

and then, a snap and the warriors began to fade. you turned around and saw him on his knees

“no...”

you rushed over to where peter already was and tried to hold back tears, to be strong for him

“hey, dad. i’m here. no more missed goodbyes, okay? i’m here.”

you sat beside him and held his hand while the rest of your family made their peace with him and he finally slipped away

“y/n...are you okay?” -peter

“not even a little”

peter was worried about you, but you were worried about peter

mutual worry

meeting morgan was...surprising

pepper forgot to tell you they had a daughter while you were gone

she was so sweet and for the first month you lived at the cabin, she slept in your room

you got NO space

“i love you y/n”

“love you too” *thinking about dad bc she just reminds you of him so much*

“i love you y/n”

“love you too, morgan”

over and over

peter and you had sleepovers a lot, usually at his house bc you were the only one besides ned allowed over bc of all the spider-stuff

ned fanboyed over you

also sleepovers at peter’s were a nice break from being at tony’s cabin where you were constantly reminded that he wasn’t there

“y/n, i’m going to europe for a field trip! it’s gonna be awesome!”

“dude, you’re gonna love it. are you bringing your suit?”

“no, this is my offical vacation. no spider-manning”

“good for you, man!”

peter sent you all the pictures he took on his phone

all of them

Peter-Man: And this one is me and Ned in our crappy hotel room. And here’s the river. And here’s MJ covered in birds, and here’s the airplane, Mr. Harrington fell asleep on me

you had to come to europe once you heard what was going on

happy and you picked up peter and he was a mess

“you gave away dad’s glasses?”

“i think we’re past the point that i am not smart”

“jesus, peter. you should have called me about them. i would have taken them off your hands if you weren’t ready for them”

having to make sure that you guys didn’t get hurt bc this was honestly your guy’s first solo pair-up

there wasnt much backup here

finally, you defeated the evil (who apparently held a very large grudge against you. sorry mister beck) and were able to go back home

“call me if you need anything, pete”

“i will. i promise.”

and the next thing you know...peter’s identity was exposed

“i left him alone for one day!”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiant // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm //

#tony stark x son!reader #tony stark x child!reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader #tony stark #stark!reader #stark!son #dad!tony #iron dad #iron man #iron man x son!reader #iron man x male reader #iron man imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #spiderman x stark!reader #spiderman #spiderman x male!reader #spiderman imagine

[basicallywhiterice]

on top of the world (dong sicheng/winwin)

pairing: sicheng/winwin x reader

genre: angst, fluff, flangst. friends to lovers, highschool!au, dancer!sicheng, spring break trip

summary: The fall to the ground doesn’t seem so daunting when you’re living on top of the world.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: cussing

a/n: if enough people get mad at me i’ll write a part 2

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

this can be read as a standalone, but it is part 1 in the on top of the world series. crossposted on ao3 here!

Chinatown, Washington, D.C., 7:01 p.m.

“Honest Abe? More like, honest babe,” Lucas hollers to Kun and no one in particular, drawing a few disgruntled looks from the pedestrians waiting for the walk signal to flash again. He winks at a man in a navy suit, who rolls his eyes and looks away. Yangyang reaches over for a high-five.

“Dude was 6′ 4″, of course he’s a babe,” Sicheng whistles, leaning behind Yangyang and craning his neck to steal glances at Kun’s phone.

To your right, Ningning flits around, snapping pictures of the street displays and assorted neon lights on the storefronts. You watch her alongside Giselle, who pops her bubblegum, periodically glancing at the traffic light at the bustling intersection. Standing shoulder to shoulder with you to your left, Kun rattles off a hodge-podge of facts about Abraham Lincoln and Ford’s Theatre, which you just passed by, from his phone screen to a faux-enthused Yangyang, who shakes Sicheng by the shoulders every time Kun reads a new fact. He occasionally gets pushed into Lucas’s side, rolling his eyes while doing little to hide the growing grin on his face.

“... and apparently they planned his assassination in the building the Wok n’ Roll restaurant we passed used to be,” Kun remarks.

“OH MY GOD SICHENG ISN’T THAT SO CRAZY?” Yangyang all but screams. “IT WAS IN THE WOK N’ ROLL!”

As you glance over fondly, your eyes linger on the orange hues and kaleidoscopic shadows the nearby “do not walk” signal spills over Sicheng’s face. After a moment, he looks away from Yangyang’s exaggerated bouncing. His gaze flits upwards, meeting your stolen glance with his own.

The world grinds to a halt beneath your feet when a strong gust of wind blows through your hair, propelling you into free fall into the depths of his eyes until Giselle tugs on your arm, pulling you back into the present.

She gestures toward the “walk” signal on the traffic light, and you fall in line with her quick footsteps as you stride across the crosswalk.

“We should go there later,” she suggests. “Try summoning Lincoln’s ghost or something.”

“The Wok n’ Roll?”

“Yeah. Do you think his ghost would have his top hat?”

“I thought ghosts were just spirits and didn’t take material possessions with them?”

“Yeah, but then every ghost would be naked, which would be hella inappropriate.”

Ningning overhears, skipping up to you and looping her arm through yours. “You have to prove the existence of ghosts and take them out to dinner before you get them naked, you pig.”

“I made yo momma sound like a ghost last night,” Lucas quips. “I skipped the ‘getting dinner’ part, though.”

“Goddamn,” Giselle exclaims as you burst into laughter, throwing jokes and jabs at each other for the rest of the trek to the ramen restaurant where you eat dinner.

Hilton Garden Inn, Washington, D.C., 9:13 p.m.

After helping Giselle and Ningning unpack, you knock on the communicating door between your hotel room and the boys’ in order to bother Kun.

Sicheng answers, moving aside so you can step across. Their room is surprisingly clean, although you chalk it up to the limited amount of time they had to unpack earlier today. Lucas sits at the desk in the corner near the window, hunched over his laptop while Yangyang peeks over his shoulder. You glimpse a few pictures of the Washington Monument on his screen before he scrolls down to other marble structures.

“Are you looking up other places to visit?” you ask him.

He glances up, cracking his neck before responding. “Yeah. I can’t find anything special that we don’t know about, though.”

“It’s boutta be lit,” Yanyang chimes in.

“Ayeee,” Lucas responds. They start aggressively patting each other on the back and arms, and you take that as your cue to leave before they wrestle you into whatever weird ritual they’re performing.

Turning, you see Sicheng flop down onto the bed closest to the windows where Kun lays, sprawled out. “Hey,” Kun greets, lifting his head from his pillows.

“Hey,” you reply, remembering the reason why you came to the room in the first place. “Oh yeah! I found a stop sign a few blocks from here on a decently busy street. It’ll take ten minutes to go there and back, tops.”

He groans. “I would love to go, but I just got a stomachache. Tell you what. Sicheng,” he says, propping himself up at a snail’s pace and clasping Sicheng’s shoulder, “you can accompany her there, right?”

“To a stop sign?” Sicheng asks, looking up from his phone.

“A hand-picked, top tier, magnificent stop sign,” you proclaim. “Whenever me and Kun travel, we always get a random passerby to take our picture in front of a stop sign like it’s a tourist attraction. Are you down for potential social awkwardness?”

The corner of Sicheng’s lips tugs up into a grin. “You know it. I’m not ruining your tradition with Kun, am I?” he asks, glancing sideways at Kun for confirmation.

Kun flops back down on the bed. “Nah. If I went right now, I’d probably ruin the tradition by shitting my pants there or something.”

Sicheng chuckles. “Promise? We could print out those pictures and mail them back to your parents like a postcard.”

“I like the way you think,” you say with a scheming smile, nodding at Sicheng before turning back to Kun. “Anyways, drink some warm water to help with your stomachache, maybe? What do you think caused it?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that trashcan pizza slice in the subway.” Sicheng reaches over and flicks his forehead. “Ow! I’m kidding! Why would you torment a sick man like this? Go away and take your pictures already.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you ask as Sicheng asks, “You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Worst comes to worst, I’ll take a Pepto-Bismol in fifteen minutes. Go and have fun.” He waves you off, grabbing a spare pillow and lightly smacking Sicheng with it.

“Fine, mom.” Sicheng stands, pocketing his phone. “You ready? I just need to put on my shoes.”

“Yeah.” As he walks over to the closet, you sneak a peek at your reflection through your phone screen. Fighting back a sudden bundle of nerves, you discreetly smooth your t-shirt down, running a hand through your hair. Kun wiggles his eyebrows when he notices, and you flip him off, silently warning him to stay quiet.

He doesn’t. “Have fun on your date with loverboy,” he whispers.

“Shut up.”

“After you leave, should I check out the pool?” he murmurs. “Lucas and Yangyang said they don’t feel like swimming tonight.”

“What, isn’t your stomach—”

“Oh my, would you look at the time? Off you go!” He shoos you away, almost standing up to push you away and laying back down before Sicheng can turn around. You’re almost impressed by how well he set you up.

Still, though. If Kun weren’t your best friend, you’d shove him into the hotel’s fountain.

H Street Northwest, Washington D.C., 9:40 p.m.

Half an hour later, you give up on the facade of collecting anti-tourist pictures after the third stop sign, stopping by the Chinatown Express to grab a bowl of noodles with roast duck to go. You walk for a few blocks before finding a bench to sit and split it at, slurping them up in an appreciative silence.

“Oh my god,” Sicheng intones around a mouthful of noodles. When you look over, his cheeks are puffed, an empty spoon descending to rest inside the soup container.

“You look like one of those baby birds eating scraps,” you giggle.

“I’m certainly skilled with chicks,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, then scoot closer to pick up a piece of roast duck. Your knees touch, but neither of you move away. “Do you think there’s a more advanced form of life than humans, like aliens, and they view us how we view animals?” you ask, resuming the conversation you had about the meaning of life before you sat down. “Like we don’t think birds could become self-aware, no matter how intelligent they are, so then we can’t achieve the alien version of self-awareness no matter how philosophical we get.”

“Good question. Uh, alien self-awareness would probably relate to the meaning of life or something, right? Or the secrets of the universe and breaking the laws of physics. And because they’re so big brained, they could control things with their minds and be enlightened with telekinesis. So hypothetically, if I were a wise, sagely alien,” he says, gently picking up your hand and laying it flat against his palm, “I could make my hand pass through yours if I had enough brainpower.”

His hand is warm, and you hope furiously that your palms aren’t sweating. “Was this another excuse to hold my hand?”

“Well, did it work?”

You raise your eyebrows and fail at biting back your smile. “You already know, you just want to hear me say it.”

He grins. “Then say it!”

“Yes, Sicheng, it worked.”

“Awesome.” He moves his right hand to pick up his spoon, briefly tugging your hand with him until he realizes. “Fuck. Sorry, I have to let go of your hand while I eat. Unless you wanna see me struggle with my left hand.”

“As much as I’d love to watch you do that, I feel like that’d be an insult to the rest of the noodles.”

When you finally remember to stand up and throw away the long-forgotten remnants of your food, he holds your hand carefully but firmly as you walk past the White House, and you imagine his hold on your heart must feel the same.

Lafayette Square, Washington, D.C., 11:16 p.m.

“Dance with me,” Sicheng pleads, pulling you under a streetlight. You nod, but your feet stay cemented on the brick-paved sidewalk.

“I don’t know how to.”

“That’s fine.” You place your hand in his outstretched one, and he lifts your other hand to rest on his shoulder. “No one’s around to judge, so just do whatever.”

“Wise words,” you deadpan, but you let his hand on your waist guide your swaying.

He’s right, though. After the initial awkwardness fades, you find that waltzing around isn’t so bad after all—especially when he twirls you around the pocket of light underneath the lamppost so gently it feels like you’re dancing on air.

And when he dips you as you throw your head back, laughing, you think you finally understand why his eyes light up every time he finishes a dance performance.

“Is this what you love about dancing?” you ask once you’ve come back up.

He nods, eyes closing briefly. “Partly. The grand choreographies are the showstoppers, but the simpler moments keep me sane.” His eyes flutter open. “I haven’t let anyone see me dance with such bad technique in a while. I’m usually not this bad, I promise.”

“I know,” you grin. “I saw you at the winter showcase. You were amazing.” Then you take a deep breath, and brace for the worst. “The lyrical piece you closed with was the one you used for your audition, right?”

“Yeah, I—yeah.”

Abruptly, he releases your hands and steps back. You allow yourself to feel a twinge of guilt for mentioning the elephant in the room before you steel yourself for the impending conversation.

“We should probably talk about that,” he says.

“We should. Do you want to walk around the National Mall? You said you liked it earlier today.”

“Sure.”

The walk is quiet enough for you to overthink. Sicheng got accepted by a dance studio in Korea, after months of submitting auditions and traveling back and forth between countries. He’s leaving soon, even if he says he’s still waiting to hear back from Juilliard and keeping his options open. You see it in the goodbyes he keeps subconsciously saying and the memories he drinks in like it’s his last chance to, and you’re terrified of what your life will look like without him.

You glance over at him periodically, and he seems to be lost in thought too, staring straight ahead down the well-lit path. His eyebrows furrow as you pass under a streetlight, and you wonder if you brought it up the wrong way.

You’re disappointed in the crude way you shoved the future into a perfectly happy moment, then mad that you’re disappointed. It was inevitable that you’d have to talk about what would come after graduation, and it was inevitable that he’d have to remove himself from your side to chase after his dreams. It’s a wonder he hasn’t pulled away already.

Stupid, you chide yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, loving so hard that your chest implodes from all the weight it carries, already drifting through the pangs of hurt and the wisps of melancholy bringing about a premature nostalgia.

“I’m really going to miss you next year,” Sicheng confesses out of the blue.

You glance up. His hands are shoved into his pants pockets, his eyes roaming over your face like he’s trying to remember all the secrets it hides.

You think you might always run back to him. You’re not sure how to feel about that.

National Mall, Washington, D.C., 11:33 p.m.

“So.”

“So,” you echo. “Have you looked at decisions yet?” It’s a pointless question. You know he’s not going to Juilliard.

“Yeah, I looked at them this afternoon in the theater.” He clears his throat. “I got waitlisted.”

“Ah.”

“I’m not going to accept a spot on the waitlist.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “I had made my decision anyway.” Then he sighs, his nonchalant facade dropping for good. “You can probably guess.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m accepting the studio’s offer,” he whispers, as if the air is glass and the moment could shatter at any moment. The words float there, above your head, and you imagine grabbing them and hugging them close to your chest before they slip away.

You don’t. “I figured.”

“Yeah. You knew.”

You stare ahead and will the tears not to fall.

“I’m leaving as soon as school ends,” he says, with the sideways glance that marks the start of his rambling distraction process, “and flying there on—”

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurt. He pauses mid-sentence. “I’m gonna miss you like crazy. Can we talk about this, for real? You can tell me all the details later, I just—please,” and your voice cracks, “don’t dismiss this.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

A blink, and the first teardrop traces its way down your face.

You waste away the hours of your stolen youth with a boy who wipes your tears away and comforts you over the future that you’ll no longer be a part of.

National Mall, Washington, D.C., 11:57 p.m.

“Before I leave,” Sicheng says, scuffing the heels of his shoes on the gravel pathway, “I know I’d regret it if I didn’t say something. I mean, I’m going to leave anyways, so why not, you know? I have to say something before I’m gone. Um, so, you know this by now, but I… I—” and you already know what’s coming.

“Stop. I know what you’re going to say. Give me a minute to think.”

You make the mistake of glancing up at him, his eyes wide and shining. “Yeah. Alright. Take all the time you need, please.”

In half a year, Sicheng will be gone and you will be left to pick up the pieces of your life that don’t involve him, piecing them together the best you can and carrying on like there isn’t a hole in your heart.

“I’m in love with you.” One thud of your heartbeat. Then another. “Sicheng.”

In half a year, this chance will be long gone, and if you let it slip through your fingers without grabbing on, you’ll never forgive yourself for letting Sicheng become your biggest what-if.

“I’m in love with you too.” He raises his hand to cradle your face in his palm. “Y/n.”

“I’ve wanted to say that for a while now.”

“Me too. It’s not just because I’m leaving, you know.” You nod, his palm momentarily pressing against your cheek. “You knew.”

“Yeah.”

You stare up at him, the boy who wears his heart on his sleeve and holds entire galaxies in his eyes.

“What are we?” he asks.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you feel about dating?”

You freeze like a deer in headlights. “Dating?”

“Yeah, would you? Like to date me?”

And then Sicheng turns into a what-if again. “I don’t know,” you confess. “I don’t know if I could handle the split.”

“We don’t have to break up when I leave. We could do long distance,” he suggests, but it sounds flimsy even to your ears.

“I don’t know, Sicheng. I don’t want to end up losing you.”

“I know. We don’t have to, especially if you don’t want to.”

You nod once in acknowledgment, and then you’re stepping into his arms again. He holds you securely, stroking your hair and waiting for you to collect your thoughts.

“I wish we had more time,” you whisper into his shoulder an eternity later. “Could we have been doing this earlier?”

“It would’ve been too fast,” he reasons, and you’re inclined to agree. “We didn’t really… not until this year…”

“Yeah.” You’ve known Sicheng for years and have been close with him for months, but you only fell in love with each other when it was too late. “I wish we started hanging out sooner.”

“Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way.”

“Maybe.”

You pull back enough to glance up at him, gaze dropping to his lips at the close proximity before immediately bringing it back up. His eyes follow the movement, a smile creeping up his face.

“One kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?” he asks, and he says it so earnestly that it’s hard to believe he’d be wrong.

“It wouldn’t,” you agree. His nose bumps with yours and you blink up at him once, twice, and then you’re leaning in until the faraway sounds of the city fade away. He’s purposeful and patient and when all you can think of is the brush of his lips against yours, it’s just you and him against the world.

One kiss might not hurt, but one turns to two and two turns to too many and when you finally pull away and stare into his eyes, dazed, your lips tingle from the ghost of his mouth on yours.

At that moment, the way his mouth slowly stretches into a grin does something to your heart, and you think you’d let it break a million times just to be the cause of his smile.

“Yes, Sicheng. Let’s date.”

He kisses you again, beaming so wide that his teeth knock against your lips and pulling you closer, almost picking you up in the process.

You wonder if you made the wrong decision.

#nct #sicheng #winwin #nct scenarios #winwin scenarios #sicheng scenarios #nct imagines #winwin imagines #sicheng imagines #dong sicheng #nct winwin #nct drabbles #nct oneshots #wayv #wayv winwin #winwin drabbles #winwin oneshots #sicheng drabbles #sicheng oneshots #kpop #nct fluff #kpop fluff #kpop fanfiction #wayv scenarios #kpop scenarios #nct u #NCT-WRITERS #kwritersworldnet #neowritingsnet #mine

[ghostrick-battlemaster]

bobashow ep5

I know its supposed to be mostly downhill from here but I g o t t a

l o l DIN'S SIGH

gotta say I relate to the hind-biter, T E E T H is also one of my first instrincts

ting-ting-ting! the SOUNDS the darksaber makes!!!! the way it is DIFFERENT from a lightsaber in not just color, but blade shape, the sound, the maker it is used--it's a perfect marriage of Jedi and Mando 🖤✨

Din fucking up trying to use it like a normal sword rip 💀 also WHAT??? WHAT????? NO, THAT PURE BESKAR PLATE ON HIS THIGH DID N O T JUST YIELD TO A FUCKING SABER IDC THAT IT'S THE DARKSABER THAT'S SOME BULLSHIT

oops.... hey at least he git ahead 🤣 but damn he looks h u r t

Din, baby, stop being a big dumb bubblegum, please, it's not a good look for you

*ancient aliens dude meme* 👐👐 h a l o

AN AWKWARD ELEVATOR SCENE

my inner costumer wants to pause every 2 seconds, crikey uuugghhhh

invisible ink!!!! Mando style

wondering if Paz or the Goran did the fingerprinting 🤔

ladders....this is why mandos have grappling capabilities, Din 🤦

the darksaber... it's.... so smol in Paz's hands....

this entire sequence is fuckin rushed 😑

mandalor is already laid to waste, the ppl scattered, Goran 🙄

Paz moving that forge pretty much by himself lmao Din "heeellllping"

I really truly do wish someone had just killed Gideon. fucker deserved a slow death but he'll probs get out or get like. Uber fancy prison. ugh

ah, Din, your naivete is showing, baby

huh. I'll miss the spear, but I get the Armorer's perspective of beskar being for armor, not weapons able to pierce beskar'gam

....honestly that recounting of Kryze's failure is surprisingly unbiased and accurate imo. a lil heavy emphasis on the creed but eh, she's entitled to her opinions

"oh, you gonna steal ya baby back? aight, I'm down to stick it to the jettise 😏 let's do this"

"oopff!" *falls into space* 😂

she's so wise 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Paz: it's a family heirloom

Din: mine now, binch, nyaahhh

💯 the sword's possessed, this is fueling Ideas

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT WOULD HAPPEN TO YOUR KNIFE PAZ????

ah, good ol' hamstringing lol

the saber should've been doing more damage to the surroundings 😑

srsly the Armorer is giving me big Mystical Quest Giving NPC vibes this episode. I love her so much.

ooohhhhhhhh MAN!!! the way she turns her back to him

l m a o disarming for the flight 😂 its even funnier than I anticipated 🤣

BUT THEY LET HIM KEEP THE JETPACK 🤣🤦

kiddo!!!! adorable. love that Rodian bab

the present 🥺 is so t i n y 🥺

BABY DROID!!! lmmaaaaooooo mini droid army

and PEEELLLIIIIIIIIIII she's terrifying with blaster and not in a good way 😬

strongly believe R5 is Obi-Wan's old droid. or was that R4...??.?. 🤔 and BD is Kal's 😌

"what is this a, democracy???

WHAT TF WAS THAT CRITTER!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

she's LITERALLY a mechanic, I love it (I know bc I worked in automotive)

love....that's not a ship 🤦 Din's looking for a camper van, not a midlife crisis coupe 😂😂😂

(ngl we had a model of that you could put a rocket engine in and send into the sky then parachute down)

"this is a classic!" *CLUNK* can confirm, that's a classic (aka a project car)

THE ENTIRE JAWA BIT

PELI SPEAKING A JAWA TRADE LANGUAGE

"FURRY"

can confirm if you let you ride sit for even a month it will probably have critters aaaallll up in it

WHY THE FUCK DO I KNOW WHAT SHE'S TALKING ABT WITH THE MODIFICATIONS

lol Din, they're j a w a s. gutsy is like their collective middle name

s h i n y 👁👄👁

STILL NO CREW CABIN IN THAT BIRD, DIN, HOW YOU GONNA LIVE OUTTA THAT????

also this is 💯 Mando S3E1 😑 I came here for B O B A F E T T

SHE PUT A HOOD CARB ON A SPACECRAFT

....I really wanna drive it thru that canyon

lol, skeered a womp rat

RODIAN BABBY!!!!

Din got a case of the zoomies lol

lololololololololol HE KEEPS GETTING PULLED OVER

FUCKING L M A O

"wizard"

SURPRISE FENNEC!

I'm simping SO fucking hard

THAT S M I R K!!!!!

THAT W A L K!!!!!

she's so hot 😩🥵🤤

#star wars #bobashow #tbobf

[quothethemenevermore]

I'm sorry for being absent for months, but to make it up I got a new hyperfixation and wound up writing a new story:

Warning: contains soft, safe vore and mentions of panicking.

It came to no surprise after everything that happened that Gordon was a little jumpy when it came to certain things. The dark, gunshots, sudden loud noises. Hell, sometimes even the sweet voice made him jump if it was shrill enough. Even as months passed and Benrey wasn't acting as antagonistic as they had before, it still caught him by surprise. 

So of course, when a sudden high note rang through the house, he grew wary. 

He was folding laundry when it happened, and he jumped, the fabric falling out of his hands. Immediately after he registered what it had been, he swore. 

"Dammit, what did I tell you about being so loud with that?" 

Sometimes he knew his roommate couldn't help it. The person was an eldritch alien being, after all, and he didn't know everything about them. But there were a lot of times they would do it just to get a kick out of him. 

So when he didn't get a response, his worry only grew. "Benrey?" He called, waiting for a moment to see if he would receive some kind of answer. But like before, there was silence. 

He picked up the shirt from where it had fallen onto the bed and tossed it back into the basket before turning to go check their room. 

It wasn't completely quiet in the house, the music from whatever game they had been playing before the shriek- it sounded similar to minecraft's soundtracks- rang softly through the hall. 

It was only interrupted by Gordon knocking on the door. "Benrey?" 

Usually, he got a response, whether it was a taunt or even them no clipping through the door to answer them, there was hardly ever a time in which they didn't at least acknowledge that Gordon was looking for them. But this time, the silence only continued. Anxiety welled in his being, making his chest feel heavy.

If Benrey was playing a prank on him with this, he was going to kick their ass. 

He opened the door, ready to… Well, he wasn't sure what exactly to expect but he was sure he'd be prepared enough to handle it. As the door swung open, he was met with the music getting louder, being closer to the source, a few fading orbs of teal sweet voice, and a missing alien.  

Teal, what did teal mean again? 

Tommy thought it would be a good idea for him to make a general list of the sweet voice colors and meanings after agreeing to let Benrey be his roommate. If he remembered correctly, teal had a few meanings, and the only one that made a small amount of sense to their disappearance was surprise. 

Benrey could teleport, so maybe they forgot they agreed to do something and got reminded? But why wouldn't they tell him before they left? Did something happen? Gordon's mind was running, throwing together different scenarios, each one worse than the previous.

There was a thud, not exactly loud, but enough to get his attention. That, and a shadow suddenly covering his room through the window. He halfway debated going to find something to defend himself before looking, but if it were just a bird he'd feel silly. It wouldn't explain the shadow, but.. whatever. There was a plate of glass between him and whatever caused the thud, so at least he could run. He quickly walked over and pulled the curtain back, finding… nothing. Well, not nothing, but it certainly wasn't the view of the yard it had once been. Instead, it was a solid sheet of dark blue. Almost like the color of Benrey's hoodie. 

And just like that, his mind jumped to the worst. 

They grew back to the size they were in Xen, they got bored of being under the radar and they're trying to attack them again- 

Okay Gordon, breathe. 

Why would they choose now of all times to do it? Especially out in the open like this? There was probably a good explanation for this, if he could even get one from Benrey. 

If he could even go talk to Benrey at this height. 

The thought of it made him shake, he couldn't deny that. Yea, they changed and weren't as bad to deal with, but they had also tried to kill the whole science team, not to mention the ambush. 

Taking a shaky breath, he pulled his phone out. If Benrey was too much at the moment, then maybe their friend could help. Tommy knew more about Benrey than any of them. 

G- Hey Tommy, I've got a question. 

T- Hi, mister Freeman! What do you need? 

G- Okay, so do you know why Benrey would change their size? 

T- well, their human form isn't their real form, so sometimes they'll change their form to fit that form better. 

Well, that made sense, he guessed. But why the sweet voice? 

G- Okay, but they also left a trail of teal when they left. With a really high pitched noise. Does that mean anything different because of their shifting? 

Gordon wasn't sure he liked how long the three dots played on the screen, appearing and disappearing as if Tommy was re-writing what he wrote. 

Finally, after one last time, the message appeared. 

T- It might have come as a surprise? It's instinct for them to be in their real form, and sometimes they might forget to do it before it takes over. 

G- I guess. Thanks, Tommy. 

T- No problem! Are you going to talk to them? 

G- At this height? Probably not. 

T- I think you should. I think they'll appreciate it, at least try to! :)

G- I guess. 

Well, he knew Tommy probably wouldn't fault him for not going through with it. With a sigh, he shut his phone off and put it back in his pocket. 

He guessed it couldn't exactly hurt to try. And maybe have a long talk about what all to expect from his roommate, because they had said nothing about growing since Xen. 

He made it to the front door before he hesitated again. He didn't think Benrey would try to attack him again, but what if they did? He was completely defenseless this time, there would be nothing to stop them from actually killing him. He shivered at the thought. But, he told Tommy he'd try, and he was this far already. He could probably stay distanced far enough that he could see if Benrey was going to try anything. 

With that in mind, he steeled himself and walked out the door, rounding the corner of the house only to falter in his steps. 

They were huge. For just a second, he saw the dark red chamber of Xen, and his breath caught in his throat. 

No, this wasn't Xen. This is his backyard, bright and cheery compared to, plus Benrey didn't have a hoodie before Xen. He was fine, they weren't trying to kill him now. He repeated that, and breathed with the numbers, until he finally felt steady again. Within that time, the alien had yet to see him, their head leaning against the roof, faced away from him. 

"Hey!" 

That got a quick shrill note of teal sweet voice before their head turned to meet his gaze. 

Did their eyes always glow that bright? "Oh, hey. Sup." 

"Not much, other than you being absolutely fucking humongous. Seriously, man, how many more abilities are you hiding?" 

"Wanna find out?" 

He was about to open his mouth to decline his offer, on instinct, but he stopped himself. Benrey was really just offering to have this conversation? No fussing? 

"Sure, man. Tell me what else you can do so you don't fucking scare me again."

"Wha- you got scared? Lil' chicken hat?" A smirk stretched the corners of their mouth. "Fuck off. You can't just grow big suddenly and not expect people to freak out. Nobody here is that fucking big." "Yea, lameass humans stuck all tiny and shit." There was something else said quietly, but their voice was rumbling as is and it was completely muffled. Not that Gordon really cared at that moment, he just wanted to know what else to expect from the alien before him. 

"Whatever. What even caused you to grow? Tommy said it was instincts." They seemed to freeze for a split second, not answering long enough to swallow back the sweet voice trying to escape. 

"Yea. Kinda sucks, being trapped in a small bod all the time." That seemed slightly rushed, if Gordon was being honest. "Well, what other instincts do you get? Kinda need to be aware of this stuff if you're living with me, dude." 

If they weren't trying to hide anything before, they certainly were now. He watched their shoulders hunch slightly, their eyes leave him and, of course, sweet voice leaking from their mouth. It.. was still teal? 

"Come on, you can't be that surprised about me asking that." 

That little pinprick of worry made itself right back at home in Gordon when instead of a snarky remark, Benrey sat in silence for a long moment. "S' not that teal." 

Okay,  maybe Benrey was still trying to fuck with him. His shoulders dropped only by a fraction, though. 

"That makes no sense. The only other teal there would be other than with green is hungry. And it's not like you can't go find something to eat at that size." 

"S' not that hungry, either. You can go back inside, I'll shrink down later." 

Wow, was that not concerning at all.

But Gordon couldn't- no, wouldn't  just leave after a remark like that, because honestly? Out of all the weird things he's heard Benrey say, that's one of the things that he can't puzzle out. He'd reason that the giant wasn't hungry at all, but the way they're acting is really throwing him off.

"What do you mean, 'not that hungry'?" He had taken a few steps forward during the course of their conversation, but when Benrey turned to look at him, pupils blown wide and an almost- okay, a hungry look on their face-, he regretted being so close. His heart twisted painfully, and he had to fight with the lump in his throat so he could speak. 

"Um.. whatcha planning there, Benrey?" He took a step backwards slowly, hoping that it wouldn't trigger any sort of other instinct into seeing him as prey. Anymore than it already is, apparently. 

Benrey blinked, and his pupils shrank. "Whuh? M' not planning anything. You're the one who asked, idiot." Okay, insults definitely not helping. An icy feeling crept down his spine as he took another step back. "Okay, so why won't you explain all.. this?" He waved a hand towards the alien. "What does any of this mean? And why hide it? You didn't really hide any of your other abilities." 

He could distinctly remember one of his first conversations with them being that they admitted to not being human. Didn’t really hide the teleporting or respawning either. 

"Yea but most of those I can control. Plus, it's private information, why would I share that with someone who doesn't have their passport?" He purposely ignored most of the words that they used. 

"Because I'm trying to get past all of the weird shit but if I don't know what the hell I'm dealing with, there's no way to? I'm making an effort to learn about you, man. The least you can do is help." He huffed, standing his ground. At this point, he was more annoyed than scared. 

At least he's not moving away anymore. 

Out of anything to happen with their instincts, it had to be Gordon to find him. Just their luck. And they could tell he was getting scared of them. They couldn't blame him, but it didn't make them feel any better about the situation. 

"It's really not that big a deal, just something common for my species. Doesn't involve you." 

"Hate to break it to you, but since you're living with me, it kinda does." "Doesn't mean it won't freak you out." "Fine, does Tommy know, then?" "..No." 

His brow quirked, and at his current miniscule height, it was a comedic sight. If it weren't such a serious conversation, they would have laughed. As it was, a thought crossed their mind. 

Gordon said he talked to Tommy earlier, didn't he? What all did he spill? It didn't seem like Gordon knew about the storing thing, so maybe Tommy saved them. Or doomed them to have to explain themself. Dammit. 

"So if I called him, right now, he wouldn't know what you were talking about?" "Don't do that. Tommy's busy. With, uh.. dog stuff." 

"I'm pretty sure he can multitask." With that, his hand moved- at his size, it was hard to see what he was doing, but it didn't have to take Sherlock to deduct what he was planning. Without thinking, their hand moved faster. 

"Wh- dude, what the fuck! Put me down!" 

Oh, he was in their hand now, curled in a loose fist. Closer than he had been before.

At this height, he was extremely fragile compared to them. A single false move could end horribly. The urge to protect him only grew stronger. Plus, it had been a long time since Gordon had been so small compared to them. They could feel his legs kicking at the bottom of their hand, and something fluttered inside his palm. 

He couldn't tell if the rapid pulse was from the humans hands or his heart. That was what cleared their mind enough to think past their instinct. After a moment of thinking, they figured the human was smart enough to not try and jump off their hand, and turned their hand as they unfurled it, causing the man to clumsily fall into his open palm. "Whoops." 

It took a moment for him to recover. 

He hadn't actually thought that Benrey would make a grab for him, and for a solid minute his brain couldn't think past a single thought. 

Panic. Fight or flight finally kicked in, and he squirmed to the best of his ability against the hold on him. He was still frantic to escape, the almost blank stare they gave him making him extremely uneasy, but he couldn't help but note how gentle the hold had been. It didn't hurt, nor did it make it hard to breathe. Even so, it didn't make it okay, especially when the only apology he got was being tossed onto their open hand with a 'whoops.'

"Dont fucking 'whoops' me! You can't just grab people without their permission! What were you thinking?!" A shrug. He didn't fight the yell in frustration that bubbled out of him. 

"Well, don't make such a big deal out of things, lil.. fussman." "Big deal out of what? Wanting you to not hide shit from me?" "'M only hiding what you don't wanna find out, man. Protecting you." 

"I'm asking to know what you're talking about! If I don't like the answer, then that's on me! This shouldn't have even gotten to this point, dude! Just tell me already!" 

"Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you." He wasn't prepared to be lifted higher to Benrey's face, stumbling slightly with a yelp. They waited for him to get adjusted before explaining, now at a close enough point that they could easily see the human's face.

Being so close to them, Gordon could see the hesitation in their eyes before they started. 

"The sweet voice means hungry, but not hungry for food. We have a thing where we can hold smaller things we care for in us, like an extreme hug." It seemed they were going to say more, but they ended with a (thankfully soft) trail of sweet voice. This one was a pearl-like color, which he had learned meant worry.  

They waited anxiously while Gordon processed what they said. 

"Wait, holding people in you.. so.. you eat the people you care about?" Ah, there it was. The panic had resurfaced. "Yea, and?" "And?  That kills people!" "What? No, it doesn't." 

"What, is your species incapable of digesting things? Because I'm not buying that shit after seeing half the things you eat, man." The human was figiting, and Benrey feared that he might throw rational thought out the window and jump off anyway. Their other hand came up, close enough to help if he tried anything. It didn't help that their mind had other ideas to keep him from running. 

"No, they don't go to the same place food goes. They go to a different pouch for holding friends." 

Right, Benrey's a shapeshifter. Can't forget that. 

"Okay. So you have the ability to safely eat people that are close to you. And that's an instinct thing?" They nodded, and he noticed that their pupils had dilated again. 

Wait.. do they want to eat me? 

He must have had a hard time hiding the fear, because their eyes softened after a moment. "Won't do it if you don't want to. But you're all tiny and vulnerable, easy to hurt, and I'm not. Can protect you, that's what the instinct's about." 

Oh. That would make sense, like taking care of their young. But even then, the idea of being eaten, even if he knew it was safe, was just a little unnerving. 

Not to mention the fact that their size was still reminding them of Black Mesa, and everything that had come with it. 

Their gaze trailed Gordon's hand as it rubbed against the scar above his prosthetic subconsciously, his eyes starting to glaze as his mind drifted. They didn't need to think hard about where his mind was going. 

"Don't have to do it, dude. Here." They started lowering their hand to the ground, slowly to not make him panic. The sudden jolt brought him back, and he looked up at Benrey. 

Their eyes were never good at betraying emotion. Usually, it was their sweet voice that told him how the eldritch was feeling. At that moment, though, he could see concern. 

Genuine concern. About him. 

"I- hang on." The hand stopped abruptly, throwing him off balance again, but he had a bigger topic on his mind than the slight inconvenience. 

"I don't know if I'm comfortable with doing that, but I'm not… afraid of you because of it. Like I said, I asked to know, so it's on me if I didn't like it.." Oh, he was rambling. He tended to do that when he was worked up, and this was quite a situation to get worked up about. He was only interrupted by a quick note from above, followed by the smell of blue raspberry. 

"Need to calm down. Getting all fussy again."  

Despite the flood of calm through his body, he couldn't help the huff of annoyance. "I'm tryin' to make you feel better, dick." "And 'm fine, I'm a great cool. I'll shrink down a little later and be back inside. Just gotta wait it out." 

"And you're just going to sit out here. Alone."

"Yea?" 

With that, Gordon got himself situated on the hand that held him and took a deep breath. "Well, not while I'm here. I'm not gonna just leave you alone to your thoughts." 

He got bbb'd in response, before he was lifted back to where he was before. 

...their teeth definitely weren't that blunt earlier, he was certain about that. "Thats, uh, on you then. Like you said earlier." 

"You said you wouldn't do it without my permission." "You never outright refused, either." 

Didn't he? 

Now that he thought about it.. he hadn't said no. Just that he didn't know how he would handle it. Their pupils had bloomed to cover most of their eyes, and focused solely on him. It made him feel uneasy, but it's not like they could stop it. 

"I guess I didn't…" He swallowed, hard, as Benrey awaited a specific phrase. He could back down. He would probably get set on the ground and see them in a few hours. 

Or he could pull himself together and try to help them settle the instinct for a while. It really didn't seem like they wanted to hurt him, otherwise they would have by now. 

"Just how much would this help?" "A lot." 

As rare as it occurred, he felt like they were telling the truth. 

"I… fuck it. Why not? Just.. don't ignore me. If I want out, let me out." "Well, yea." They said it like it was the most obvious thing, and he knew that was the best agreement he'd get. "Okay. Ready as I'll ever be, I guess. Not exactly what I thought I'd do today, but.." He trailed off as he was brought closer to the mouth before him, and God, just how tiny was he compared to Benrey right now? The height comparison had always been off, but in Xen he was kinda focused on not dying. Now,  he couldn't help the thought. He was tiny. 

Probably big enough to fit in their mouth, though. 

He wasn't sure what to expect from this, but he should have seen the tongue coming. As is, it got him from his torso up, warm and large. He hadn't expected it, but it hadn't exactly scared him. When they pulled back, he grumbled as his vision remained blurred. 

Fucker licked my glasses. I should have taken them off. His hair was also starting to stick to his forehead, wet with saliva. He removed the offending frames and held them to the side, rubbing his face with his sleeve. "How about a warning, next time? So I can take these off before you fucking ruin them." His answer was a chuckle, and he felt two trunk-like fingers gently close over his hand, taking the glasses out of his grasp. "I'll just take them. Problem solved." "Problem solved except I'm fucking blind." "'S not like you'll need to see where you're going." "Keep fucking around and I'll just go back inside." 

"Wha- no, man, come on. Don't leave, please?" He sighed, imagining the puppy eyes they were making through the blurred shapes he could see. "Fine. Let's do this." 

"'Kay." 

And then his legs were enveloped in warmth. His hands gripped at the palm underneath him, startled at the sudden change. As he tensed, everything stilled around him. He took a minute to gather himself, then gave a nod to continue. 

He was pulled in to his waist next, but it didn't startle him as badly this time. In fact, compared to how warm it was in Benrey's mouth, it was kinda chilly out here. His hands had just left their palm to wrap around the part of his torso that remained out, when he felt their tongue curl under him and he was pulled in the rest of the way. 

There was a soft click as their teeth closed around him, but it was barely registered compared to everything else that Gordon was bombarded with. 

It was hot, almost uncomfortably so, and completely dark, and there was saliva soaking into his clothes. It seemed like the muscle beneath him was restless, shifting around him as he gathered his bearings. Finally, he managed to get himself settled on his knees, hearing a squelching noise as his hands settled into the flesh beneath him. It pulled a grimace from him. 

He could hear them breathing, but the loudest sound by far was the rumbling noise he could pinpoint below him. 

Was that.. purring? That shouldn't surprise him, honestly. Just another thing to add to the list of things he's finding out about his roommate. Still, it hadn't really clicked until now just how much the alien was enjoying this. Just how badly did they want to do this? 

 As he collected himself, it seemed that Benrey was getting impatient. He couldn't tell at this point if their instincts were rushing them or if they were purposely fucking with him as he was flipped onto his back with no warning. "Hey!" It hadn't been a yell that needed a retort, but it got a snort out of the alien regardless. 

That bitch. 

He was pushed and flipped around some more, getting more soaked in saliva as they progressed. He would complain more, his clothes hanging heavy on his frame and his hair plastered to his face and neck, but he knew that for what was coming up it was necessary. Unless they could also handle that via shape-shifting, in which he would be pissed if he found out. Finally, he was gently pressed against their pallet, and a hum echoed around him, rumbling his surroundings and echoing through his body.

He took that as a warning for what was next, and couldn't help the sudden racing of his heart. He couldn't exactly say this was anything like he was expecting, though. If it weren't such a weird concept as a human, he could even see how their species could find this comforting. It was warm, and he couldn’t really deny how nice it would feel being so close to someone he cared about. 

…Yea, he accepted at this point that he didn't hate Benrey anymore, or ever really wanted to to begin with. They were good company when they weren't trying to escape and survive. 

"I think I'm good, go ahead." He called out, receiving another hum in response, and closed his eyes. 

His body started slipping backwards as gravity shifted around him, and he took a deep breath to calm himself right before Benrey swallowed. 

His feet were suddenly ensnared, and before he could even register that, another swallow echoed around him and the rest of his body followed suit. He wasn't sure if he could hurt them, so he tried not to move. Still, he couldn't help his figiting as his breath started to run out. Out of anything his thoughts tried to provide for this part, it wasn't nearly as bad. It was kind of a tight fit, and being forced down was a bizarre feeling alone, but it wasn't like he was being crushed. It seemed more like a gentle kneading. He wondered if Benrey was purposely being gentle or if that, too, was a species thing. 

All in all, if he could actually breathe, it probably wouldn't be as bad. 

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he jolted to a stop. For a split second, he felt nothing but panic, thinking he had gotten stuck, when the muscles beneath where his feet had stopped opened and he was suddenly forced down, landing a little harsher than he wanted to. 

The first thing he noticed was that the air was somehow fresh as he quickly refilled his lungs. It had a sharp, fruity smell to it, not unlike their sweet voice. The second thing, also likely related to the sweet voice, was that Benrey had lied about not needing to see where he was going. 

The chamber he had landed in was not dark like he expected, but lit up with a faint teal glow. 

Actually, if he focused, he could see other colors too, like happy yellow and even a little pink. It probably would have looked prettier if it wasn't so damn blurred. 

"Wow…" he couldn't stop the word from escaping, as he continued to look around in awe. This… was definitely not what he was expecting from this.

The chamber itself was still slick, likely had to be, but it was also soft. His hand sunk into the floor beneath him and he was reminded of memory foam as he lifted it and watched the flesh slowly rise back into place. The glow was not so intense it hurt to look at, and it was comfortably warm. 

"So…" he jumped when Benrey's voice rumbled from around him. "How are you liking the extreme cuddles?" 

"Can you hear me from in here?" Gordon yelled back. "Yea. Hear you loud and clear, little too close to not be able to." 

"Yea, okay." "So.. is this okay?" A new color joined the mirage, a lavenderish-white once again. "Dude, this is fine. It's still weird, but… not that bad." 

He could hear the grin in their voice. "Yea? Cool."  And then they were purring again, and Gordon smiled. "Glad you're feeling better." 

The glow seemed to get brighter where he applied pressure, he noticed. He ran his hand against the wall, watching as the trail his hand left got brighter, and feeling as the purring got louder, rumbling the entire chamber. For a moment, he debated finding out how loud he could get them to purr, but decided that would be better for another time. For now, he still wanted to learn about this. 

"Hey, I have some questions." 

The purring got quieter, but didn't stop fully, distorting their voice slightly. "Shoot." "Is this where your sweet voice is made?" 

"Nope. Got another pouch for that. Just connected the two." "Okay. How is the air breathable in here?" 

"Friend pouch's connected to airways. Filters the air like lungs do." "Wouldn't it have just been easier to connect it to your lungs instead of having two organs filtering air?" 

"Came that way." "So there's some things you can't change by shapeshifting?" 

"Nah, I could but it's too much work. Have to figure out how to safely do it and stuff. S' why my human form matches yours. Easier than trying to figure out where I can make things function." 

He nodded, taking in the information. "Okay, I think that's all I got. What now?" 

"Uh, you could take a nap. I'd be normal when you wake up, let you out before I shrink." "I don't know if I can sleep in here, man." "Wanna try?" 

It was pretty comfortable, he wouldn't lie. But there was one more thing he wanted to make certain of, a final fear he wanted to put to rest. "What if I want out?" "Like, now?" 

"Yea." There was a huff of disappointment from above, but it was quickly followed with "'Kay, hold on." 

So Gordon waited to see how he would be taken out. He figured that Benrey would just spit him back up, and tried to mentally prepare himself for the squeezing again. 

He wasn't prepared to see a giant hand clip through the wall, an undignified squeak escaping him as it came towards him. 

Like before, it gently took him into a loose fist before pulling out of the wall, without a single indication that the hand had even slipped through the walls of flesh and muscle. Before he could pull his thoughts together about that, he was set on the ground and not a moment after Benrey was back to his normal 5'3. 

It was… jarring to see the alien that had just held him and eaten him alive be shorter than him again. 

"So…" he started awkwardly, unsure what to even say about the situation, before the air quickly reminded him of how soaked he was. "I need a shower. And I think we're going to order food tonight. I don't feel like cooking." They nodded. "Yea. Okay." As the two started back towards the house, Gordon stopped at the door. "Can you grab me some towels? Don't want to walk in the house sopping wet." 

"Yea.. and, um…" they trailed off, looking away with a small hum of pink sweet voice escaping their mouth. "Thanks for doing that. Helped a lot." "Yea, no problem, man. Thanks for letting me out and not just ignoring me." He finished with a snort at the offended look he received. "Told you I would listen." When they only received a laugh in return, they huffed and turned to go get the towels he asked for. 

As he waited, he mulled over all the stuff he learned about his roommate today. It was certainly not how he thought today was going to go, but he found that ...he didn't mind too bad. 

He wouldn't mind if he found Benrey in need of some "extreme cuddles" again.

#non fatal vore #sfw vore #soft vore #hlvoreai #g/t vore

[gwaciechang]

I Don't Wanna Go Home (1/15?)

So, this is probably going to be my most ambitious project ever. I'm going to do a fusion of the video gave Subnautica Below Zero, with the characters from Cloverfield Paradox. You don't have to have played Below Zero first, although it would certainly help. Also, as someone who has played the game, I tried my best to explain everything, which is why the first few chapters are going to be really slow, and why everyone talks so much. I also made a change to the canon of the first Subnautica: instead of Riley curing Kharaa, it was the precursors.

So, a few more things before we start this chapter. I hate "y/n l/n" stuff, so I just call the pov character Ling Tam. I don't think anybody actually uses that name in the story, but that might change, and in any case, you're free to replace her name with any name you like. Also, reader is in a relationship with Mundy at the start of the story, although that, obviously, won't last because it's endgame reader/Schmidt. Okay, that's everything, enjoy, and let me know if you want to be tagged.

@hope-to-hell @vicanth @feralrunaway @october505 @potentialproblem01

"Hey, Monk, you told me to come get you if that weird signal showed up ag-" you stop when you see the vehicle technician on the radio.

"When are you going to send me some more art? There's still a patch of bare wall here that could use some color and a touch of genius!" Monk says, probably to his kids, as he waves you away. You close the door as silently as you can, and not a second too soon, because Mundy opens the habitat door and stomps his way inside with a box. Behind him, you can see the prawn suit, with several other boxes still tied to its massive arms. There's an inquisitive face popping out of the water that you decide not to tell him about. Why shouldn't the creatures have a little fun?

"Another day, another slight by the winged furies," Mundy grumbles.

"Another interference alert?" you ask, trying to lay the sympathy on thick before you inevitably burst into laughter.

"As usual," the xenobiologist sighs theatrically. "Also as usual, I went out to see what the problem was. And, of course, it was-"

"Frozen stalagmites of feathered bird excrement," the two of you say together.

"I fear the career impact of saying this officially-"

"If you can even call what you have a career," you interrupt, getting yourself a faceful of dirty towel.

Besides throwing the thing you're really hoping he hadn't just used to wipe up bird shit in your face, your boyfriend continues as if you'd never spoken. "I could swear they're targeting me personally. The week I was out with a flu, I came back to find the tower spotless. Monk laughed at me when I asked him how he'd cleaned it. Silly me!"

"As if Monk would ever clean anything," you agree. "What are you going to do?"

"There's nothing left for me to try but quitting. But I know that's what the birds want me to do," he shakes his fist at the sky as he walks back outside to retrieve the final box.

You turn back to the screen and wonder about the signal again. It's been appearing on and off for days, ever since you got the radio tower up and running, and what would a repeat call be besides a distress signal?

"Ah jeez, these sea monkeys are going to get me in trouble," the box in Mundy's hands is scratched through in places. "This is the third shipment that those buggers have gotten their weird little hands into! Now we're running low on flares and I'm going to have to search nearby nests for stolen cargo," he sighs as he drops a mangled box on the top of his cluttered workstation. It makes a bang that would have disturbed Monk, if he weren't on the radio, or Schmidt, if he were a normal person who came back from work at normal hours. As it is, there's just you to look at him, a welcome break from potential distress signals and what they might mean.

"Just put some of your drawings on the tower, they'll be too scared to go near it!"

"Ha ha," Mundy says sarcastically, before going outside to park the prawn-

"Oh, for fuck's sake! It’s fucking gone!"

You and Monk, still on the radio, step outside, but sure enough, the prawn suit has disappeared without a trace, as far as you can tell.

"I'm still trying, quietly--I don't want any more trouble--to figure out where I went wrong. I was sure Tam had picked up a distress signal!" Monk bends down to peer at the tracks. "I was right on top of it. And then it just," he gets to the edge of the glacier, stands up, and shakes his head, "it just stopped. What if one of the precursors is still down there? And how could a hivemind alien race so advanced that they singlehandedly ended a galaxy wide pandemic leave someone behind? I'll probably be home before I ever get to find out, and it will fall to some future researcher to come and find out, I guess, I hope," he waves the two of you back into the habitat and closes the door. "But that means I'll get to be with you little rascals." His voice fades and disappears.

"So, game tonight?" you ask, hoping to erase the distress off Mundy’s face.

"That'd be nice," he says with a weak smile, just before Jensen slams her door open.

"Mundy, inside!" barks the overseer of operations.

Mundy sighs and drags his feet as he walks into Jensen's office. No sooner has she closed the door with a snap than you and Monk have your heads pressed against the door.

"Mundy, I'm not blaming you, but what do you mean, 'it's gone?' Where did it go? You had trouble retrieving the drop pod and decided to jettison the prawn suit?"

"I didn't jettison the prawn suit! I left it outside to put the supply drop away, went back for it, and it was just gone! Someone must have stolen it."

"Who? Who else do you think is on this planet besides the five of us?"

"It could be a creature ate it. I didn't lose it, that's for sure. I'm careful with my vehicles!"

You can practically hear Jensen’s eyeroll as she continues, "I'm sure you are, but you have to admit, there have been a lot of 'accidents' involving our very expensive vehicles."

"You want to follow me on a few runs tomorrow? See what it's like? Conditions are way harsher than anything I ever imagined. You can't really understand it from inside your office!"

Monk winces, and you know there's a matching pained expression on your face. Talking back to Jensen is a terrible idea, but Mundy's sealed his fate, and now all that's left is to wait for the other shoe to drop.

"That won't be necessary," Jensen says with syrupy calm. "Thank you for your time. I'll write it up as an accident."

"Thank you, ma'am," Mundy's voice is shaky. Jensen doesn't respond, so the vehicle technician’s deliberately loud footsteps approach the door, prompting you and the precursor researcher you're spying with to run like your asses are on fire back to your stations.

"I think it'd be best if Researcher Tam takes over your duties with the leviathan tomorrow," Jensen says, loudly enough for you to hear, even through the door.

Now it's your turn to wince. Mundy gives you a small smile as he walks past, and then Jensen's in your line of sight, hands on her hips.

"I believe I told you to go somewhere."

"Yes, ma'am," you drop everything to put your thermal suit on, and pour a final cup of sweet, sweet dirty bean water in your thermos. There's no cappuccino machine allowed in the cave, lest it somehow thaw out the entire frozen leviathan Mundy, and now you, are studying. Or maybe it was just Schmidt being anal about his robots, you wouldn't put it past the guy whose lips are basically permanently attached to Jensen's ass.

On the bright side, they're also attached to a guy who knows what he's doing, and is thorough in explaining what Mundy does when he's here. Still, it's barely five minutes in when the silence gets to you.

"I love and hate exploring these tunnels," you start to babble, not expecting Schmidt to respond. "Yeah, they're marvels to the power of the ice worms. I mean, the amount of ice they are able to cut through in seconds, it would take us at least a couple days. Their tunneling mechanism is ruthlessly efficient. Alterra could only dream of having this sort of mining capability, and yeah, the ice worms uncover mineral rich pockets as they tunnel. But going beneath the surface is so risky, I mean, we've lost so many already, and I don't understand why we have to stay in this particular area of the glacier. I can't wait to get off this hellhole, or ice hole? Whatever."

You can hardly believe it, but you hear a clear snort coming from Schmidt’s workstation. You fill your flasks with a wide smile on your face, which doesn’t fade even when you make your way back across the tunnel to see his with its usual pinched, sour expression.

"Hey, do you want some coffee?" you wave the thermos at him. "It might help you get the taste of Alterra boot leather out of your mouth," you say in a singsong voice.

"How much sugar and cream is in that?" Schmidt wrinkles his nose. "No thank you."

You decide to let that roll off your back and chuckle a little. "I guess my proclivities toward having coffee with my sugar is well known, huh? Just like how I should know better than to invite you to game night with me and the other researchers, again?"

Is snow blindness affecting your vision, or did Schmidt just smile?

"You should know better," he says in a soft voice, and then he takes out another set of small, sterile flasks, and hands them to you. "Get some samples from the skull, too, use the elevator."

"Thanks!" you grab the flasks, only to drop them the second you put your hand on the elevator lift button, because that's a fucking rotten peeper hanging off the edge.

Schmidt snaps his gloves off and cleans it up, which is nice of him, even if the things he says while he does it aren’t very nice. "Mundy," he practically spits, "always leaving food around. At least the nutrient blocks and the filtered water don't spoil."

"Well, the man likes to munch on things," you try to lighten the mood. "Are you telling me you don’t leave snacks around your workstation?" Schmidt opens his mouth, but you interrupt. "Don't tell me, you have a timer telling you when to go to the fabricator to make food and eat?"

He closes his mouth and turns a little red.

Holy shit, you were right? That's the saddest thing you've ever heard. "Okay, you know what, you are definitely playing Alien Intruders with us tonight, because I'm going to cook. Real food, too, none of that fabricated stuff."

"Oh, I am?" Schmidt raises an eyebrow.

"Yep! And I'm going to make my favorite dish, just for you, you'll love it! Roasted Chinese potato with shredded marblemelon and salt."

That was definitely a snort, maybe even a laugh, and it carries you through the rest of the day.

#ernst schmidt x reader

[luminous-shifting-vibes]

*sequel* to actual fucking quotes from the shiftblr coffeehouse discord server

once again, it's out of context because x1000 funnier

also x1000 longer than previous post

"ur satan is gnc af"

"Bestie I’m already having gender envy over a fucking demon please"

"O_O ODEPIJHFbavevisdpvfhzdcnjawedsidjksjdkoeirjfmkdsoeirujdksodifjndmksoidfjdksidfj ITS" NOT IN MY FRAFTS IS SPEDNT 1 hour PN THAT SHIT"

"AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"ohoho sexy"

"I am very proud of myself"

"himbo x edgy fuck"

"YOU COULD SQUISH HES CHEECKS"

"he has teefs"

"SQUASH"

"good for biting 📷"

"he's a himbo basically"

"B͂̒̄iͫ̍̈tͧ̓ͯè̄̇"

"bifth"

"i havent watched blue exorcist in years but mr okumura my beloved </3"

"MY LIFE QUESTIONS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED"

"is it important information to mention that the person i put up for my turn is the son of satan" "I know like 1 thing about everyone who isnt ranboo lmfao"

"crimes"

"tumblr sexyman"

"idk why but my first thought was cowboy onceler"

"I vibe with him but he is very long and twisty"

"steampunk e-girl"

"steampunk tumblr sexyman"

"Canonically bi crimelord I agree!!"

"OOO FRIEND SHAPED"

"ARTIST SIGHTED"

"they look like someone i would want to be friends with but is way cooler than me so i'd never actually talk to them"

"babby..... would die for him"

"honestly i probably kin him"

"i'm sure he's lovely but he looks way too much like my ex i'm sorry-"

"i'd be down for another rotation! i have another twink to show y'all"

"Also :00 blonde friend"

"Let us all infodhmo"

"Hsjagdvbs shhh im on phone"

"Nix woukd you like to joon?

"skitters away"

"I have two braincells and they both drink dumb bitch juice"

"oof wait whats the order again i have 0 memory"

"i want to bond with him over cosplay-"

"Awkwardly watches in band kid"

"One day I'm gonna a broadway star"

"which isnt to say they were bad. they were just fortnite dancing during rehersals"

"I threw it so hard my glasses flew off and slid under the stage right divider"

"anyway heres my boi"

"emo"

"haha emo"

"virgil sanders kinnie"

"he looks like he listens to my chemical panic at the fallout boy"

"Bro I bet he'd kick my ass with his deck"

"bird man my beloved"

"fuck i had so much to say and then i forgot it all"

"Birds!!"

"guiguhuh"

"crabrave"

"She sounds like someone I would end up stealing her personality"

"yess name collector gang"

"alias glass aiden haven absinthe fish brick rice"

"But I have Cypress, Remure, Genesis, Lemres, and Comet"

"And she's named after a mars candy bar bc alien"

"Hey, if plato went by plato, you can be king thief"

"im not dissing my gramma like that shfojd"

"My dad has seven legal names" "bitches be like *looks at fictional character* *steals their name* it's us we're bithces"

"coraline lowkey traumatized me but i adore it regardless"

"mmmmmm magic man :]"

"°0° green man"

"criminal (affectionate)"

"he would shoplift a candy bar from walmart and then brag to all of his friends about the sick stealing he did"

"despite the fact he's canonically been capable of overpowering a minor deity"

"i would commit so many crimes for him"

"Very babey"

"Yes please tell green man he is very pog"

"he also keeps a lot of dumb secrets"

"but I will sorely miss the chaos and energy of this here chat until I wake again" (by request XD)

"i just say words and if they're funny then they're funny"

"* or extremly chaotic either works"

"at this point we are just taking turns rambling"

"oH--"

"bc my brain has a schedule"

"Hopefully they have gyoza there or I will lose my mind"

"hehe yes spooky man"

"my ghost glucose guardian"

"the head of the undead group that lives there, and we end up dating. (yes I date a ghost, no I will not be taking constructive criticism /lh)"

"ghosts r just inherently sexy"

"i mean im becoming a squid thing so"

"Raven quirk raven quirk!!"

"ł â m p"

"łæmp"

"mothman: ooh lamp you look very nice today! do you come here often? mothman: wait shit no"

"I'd date a ghost"

"mine is still accurate, i am still sobbing (/j)"

"p e e p e e"

""@nick wilde is a tumblr sexyman" is the best thing i have ever seen"

"im sorry im cackling like a dying hyena"

"you're all 12 year olds"

"PEENIE"

"He once caused global warming on accident so he could get a tan"

"god, what a himbo. i love him"

"that reminds me of my friends kin assigned me jesus"

"Man outside of battle be like: princely crying but then in battle hes like: "CATACLYSM! DISASTER! DEVASTATION!" Chill out man"

"Every time I talk about satan it never fails to shock people it's my favorite thing to do"

"im kin assigning him roman sanders" ""Oh yeah he caused global warming because he wanted to get girls" "he what""

"oh damn i forgot satan was straight"

"twink appreciation club"

"give us the twinks"

"my first thought was bottom-"

"so many people to try and get his dad to love him"

"daddy issued"

"OH MY GOD ITS WILBUR"

"Big boy but"

"anyways janus is swagggg"

"........................."

"gib twink"

"give twink then i will share"

"holds him gentle like hamburger"

"This dumb bitch opened a book that said "do not open" and got possessed by a little bastard"

"he is. fragile creachur"

"klug is beauty klug is grace i would let him step on my face"

"If I'm playing swap and I have to hear one more "Pwanet Powew" Im gonna lose it"

"Who is to blame? Pandora or the box?"

"Bakugo isnt my type but I respect the drip"

"i say like my type isnt long-haired pretty boys and girls that look so gnc that people have a history of confusing them for men"

"hes a gremlin and i can appreciate a pretty gremlin"

"that is to say i am attracted to VFlower vocaloid. This is a confession."

"note i am a lesbian"

"You may like Schezo wegey"

"why does he have one single expression"

"soul soul eater passes the vibe check"

"magic wand"

"I Want To Hold His Hand"

"i would commit a war crime for him any war crime idc which one"

"my favorite one is when he sounded rlly gay because he said "Muscular bodies keep me satisfied""

"p e a n u t"

"Klug is a homophobic homosexual its just facts"

"grug from the croods is peak male performance"

"jaw drops to floor, eyes pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets, heart beats out of chest, awooga awooga sound effect, pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out, slams fists on table, rattling any plates, bowls or silverware, whistles loudly, fireworks shoot from top of head, pants loudly as tongue hangs out of mouth, wipes comically large bead of sweat from forehead, clears throat, straightens tie, combs hair Ahem, you look very lovely."

"tag yourself im the fireworks shooting from the top of the head"

"i like essays"

"central time gang"

"11:11 pog-" (wait... is that a suprise angel number?? yes it is lovelies just for you <3)

"Then again im also a dumbass bitch who wonders what the souls in soul eater taste like. SERIOUSLY THOUGH. THEY LOOK TASTY AS HELL!!!! LIKE GODDAMN BRO YOU'RE MAKING ME FUCKING HUNGRY. Like. that shit- it's Bone Apple motherfucking Teeth. hell yea my guy. Im hongy now.... shlorp I'm seriously considering this. Like. They seem kinda like a liquid? But a solid? Are they like jello? The fuck they taste like my guy???? I keep imagining they're like sour, like sour candy maybe? Or do they taste salty? Sweet? Maybe some combo of two? Do they even have a taste or is it about the texture? The sensation? God my mouth is watering what the hell. I am starving. I think I need to go get a cookie. I'm gonna go get a cookie. Brb. I'm better. I'm still craving souls though. Which is a weird-ass cringey thing to say but I'm being dead-ass rn. They just.... look tasty???? And I wanna eat one. Thus. I am shifting to Soul Eater for the express purpose of satisfying my fucking cravings. enjoy"

"points were made"

"jello? more like helloooo schloooAHFJDSDAIDWNALDHSJKDAIDANDM"

"WAIT I THINK I HAVE AN ANIME GIRL BITING VIDEO TOO"

"anime girl voice: mmm! mm... ahhhhmp!! mmm, mmm... aaahmp!"

"i think it sounds great i'm going to start eating like that"

"several people are typing"

"do these look edible to you"

"forbidden gummies"

"when I was on lsd I couldn't eat my fruit gummies because I thought they were alive because they had little faces on them"

"oh shit yeah don't do drugs"

"anyways general consensus is puyos are edible, ty for your input everyone"

"everypony is a word so powerful it can bring nations to its knees"

"pls the self control it's taking me not to say "hewwo everypony" in gen chat when someone new joins-"

"hewwo evewrypony uwu deaw cewestia i hopwe it doewsnt wain owo"

"ive cooked up a sowution wiwth the knowwege ive acwued. they say a kitcwen time saves niwne, but im just savwing two. Ive gathewwed the inwedients to make a time sowbet. Thewe's hawdly woom fow seconds when the seconds mewt away."

"I had a ten year old sister... you know what happened to her??? very sad, very tragic... she turned eleven....."

"NIIICE"

"Guts dont say the secks word :( /j"

"watch your fucking language in front of the president"

"im so sorry lumi"

"i think you're like ehhhh 8/10 funny"

"now me???? 10/10. Hilarious"

"sometimes i have to take a step back and remember that this is the same guts i follow on tumblr /lh"

""ok every here's some good shifting advice!!! uwu have a good day" "yeah i did lsd and ate fruit gummies""

"i have one setting and it's whatever this is"

"my bitch ass cat just pushed the door open with his fuzzy face and now my sleeping dad is being lulled into dreams by Cosmo Sheldrake's 'Pliocine'."

"me on discord: nick wilde"

"me on tumblr: shifting water! haha funne! me on here: my hermit crabs are cannibals also i want to eat souls."

"im sorry yOUR VIBESA RE JUST SO DIFFERNT"

"u give off older cousin ive never spoken to but always admire at the family gatherings vibes"

"what the fuck"

"BC I HAVE LIBERTU"

"If you adopt me then yes"

"am I qualified for dad jokes???"

"we're all a lot smarter on tumblr"

"I'm like "awww... sweet... sweet little shiftlings... posting such sweet shiftling content... so pure, so wholesome... does not even know abcs....""

"can't think before you speak if you never think B)"

"I'm not responsible enough to be a mom"

"cat pet"

"show us pictures of the cat or i will do Crime"

"maybe thats me being a coward tho"

"MOTH!!!! MOTH MY BELOVED"

if y'all want I can make this a series bc shiftblr keeps giving me more content

#tw drugs #tw swearing #tw cannibalism #tw crime #tw food #tw homophobia #shitpost #out of context #out of context quotes #lumi's quotes

[hanawrites404]

Journey

@oc-growth-and-development

(trigger warning : smoking, mention of death)

Another day, another restorative morning, as if nothing else can motivate me enough to finally cut my laze and start the new day already.

I got off my bed and my eyes instinctively gazed out the window beside me at the wall. As usual, there wasn't much outside, just the same trees and lawns you would find in any other neighbourhood, yet I never seem to get tired of looking at them over and over every time I wake up. It was like a part of my everyday morning ritual which I definitely shouldn't miss, and honestly, I was fine with it. I was not the type of person to actively look for spices in my life after all, and even if I start to crave for it someday, I just wait for it to come to me.

Otherwise, everything just gotta be restful, that's all I want, to be honest.

The water was pleasantly chill to bathe in, too, and so was the dawn's sea breeze swishing through the balcony as soon as the curtains were tucked out and the windows were pulled open. If anything warm right now, it was the brisk sun and the brimming cup of steaming café au lait thawing my bare arms and fingers as I stepped out to lean onto the grill of my terrace. My feet were bare as well, touching the cool tiles beneath them as I felt the tingling sensation through my nerves.

I was still in my pyjamas, my hair up in a bun and it was still seven. Other than some elder citizens walking outside to get the minty air rushing and stray cats and dogs yawning and stretching, the scene in front of me was almost deserted.

It all felt quiet, but it wasn't prickly. The birds were still tweeting, the bulk of leaves rustled in a shimmer, and I could even hear my sigh as I blew the hot vapour from my cup, my lips slowly savouring the coffee bit by bit. It was very peaceful, I liked it.

But unfortunately, it wasn't real.

"미스......미스.....일어나 미스!"

I jolted up from the unfamiliar voice presumably calling out for me. So it was all a dream? I wasn't enjoying a utopian morning at my balcony back in Miami?? But it all felt so real....from the taste of coffee to the warmth I felt of the drink. So it was all my imagination? Wow huh....looks like the power of my mind is going to be a mystery to me for a while. I never knew that my brain could fool me into believing that I was relaxing at my home, and not dozing off in a Korean tourist bus.

"Ugghmm...Huh?" Still groggy from my sleep, I blinked twice before looking outside the window of the bus. By the look of it, I think we had come to the final stop. Before letting out anything else from my mouth, I silently turned my gaze onto the one who broke my slumber, namely the bus conductor.

He is looking right at me. Come on, say something....!!

"U-Ummm...." I stumbled, my index slowly moving to point at the complex the bus had stopped near at.

"역???" I cringed as I tried to pronounce the exotic word. Fuck. I didn't expect my voice to crack right in front of the bus conductor. And before anyone raises a question, no. I don't know Korean. I just happened to memorize only the important words I might need to communicate during my journey to Korea. But while I was still at home I felt pretty confident in myself, what happened to me now? It wasn't unusual of me, I am a human after all and I get nervous at times too. Yet it was.... surprising.

Hmm...it must be the anxiety of being in an alien country where everything is different from what I am aware of and what I have experienced so far. Different ambience, different language, and different people. Very strange and foreign, to be frank. But fresh and young, like a bite of a ripe green apple.

Nevertheless, the conductor just laughed at me and patted my shoulder very strongly. Ouch but Woah, now I could see why he was hired as the conductor. Strong arms, sharp eyes, along with a charm of his own to make people at ease. Even to a 'lost' newcomer like me.

"Yes yes! 역! Correct! Wanna come out??" With a grin twinkling on his bright face, he stepped away to let me through. I felt more relaxed than before as soon as I heard English from him, and it was pretty fluent too.

A small relieved smile broke on my lips too as I grab hold of my guitar case and my backpack and get up. My legs had gotten a bit numb inside my boots from not moving them much throughout the ride, and my jacket was almost off my shoulders.

"감사합니다" I quickly muttered before adjusting everything on me and stepping out of the bus. I didn't want to stammer again and, even if I wasn't in a hurry, I still wanted to make sure I reach where I was called to at an early hand.

"Have a safe journey!" The conductor waved at me, and I gladly turned around to return the gesture before entering the lobby. After I had made it inside, I left my belongings at a convenient place and went to the bathroom to fix my face and clothes.

I had been travelling for almost twenty hours; An eighteen-hour flight and a two-hour bus. It was back-to-back, and hardly I had the time to refresh myself properly and smoke a bit, but now was my chance to do so before I carry on to reach my destination.

With the help of the large mirror on the wall, I first removed my contact lenses and then washed my face and combed my hair. It had grown pretty long. But I wasn't planning on cutting them any sooner. I also dusted my jacket and jeans off and straightened my t-shirt inside.

After I was sure everything had been set, I put my lenses back on and vaguely looked around the room, and finding no one except me, I quickly stand near the ventilator above me and light my cigarette. What I was doing right now poses a threat to my health and is illegal, but this was a guilty pleasure of mine. I admit it shamelessly because why not. I have nothing to lose. We all are gonna die one day, so it's better we make the most of our lives and I was just doing that. Nothing more, nothing less.

Just because I said I don't seek adventure vigorously, does not mean I don't have any thrill in my life at all. I do have it. Everyone has it. You just gotta make it interesting in your way, and that's how you gotta roll, champ.

Anyways, after a couple of puffs, I got disposed of the cigar and shooed off the smoke around me. It was only after everything seemed clear that I washed my life hands and dried them, then left the restroom and grabbed my luggage back before I started to stride again, to the reception counter.

After all the formalities were taken care of, I finally breathed the outside air of Korean afternoon. The sun was luminous and overhead, but the heat wasn't as severe as back in Miami. The number of clouds here are much more than there, or was it just for this particular day? I had no idea.

I am not a tourist here. I came here for a business trip, you can say. A man from here, a freelancing musical artist, had personally requested and invited me for a musical collaboration. The deal itself sounded quite intriguing, also with the fact that I'm half-Korean thanks to my father's lineage, yet ironically I have neither ever seen Korea with my own eyes nor I have witnessed its culture. Until today, that is.

So here I am now, strolling in the middle of the bustling city surrounded by college students touring around, laughing and talking with their classmates and munching on unique dishes and snacks I had never seen before. And while I was busy observing them, someone bumped into me, breaking my contact.

"Oh! 실례합니다!" It was a young blond guy, wearing a light blue hoodie with a couple of smiley badges pinned to his chest. He quickly bowed after apologizing and for briefly taking a glance at my face, hastily trots in the opposite direction. I eyed him, judging by his clothes and the books he was carrying in his arms, he looked like a college student. Hmm...no wonder why he was in a hurry. He must be late to class or something.

But anyway, I continued walking. That musical man had told me to wait near the back alley of a coffee shop that was close to the station. Hmm, that would be easy to locate. The coffee shop was right in front of me! Hah, how easy.

And so, without wasting any time, I ambled towards the cafè. It was a cute little shop, in my opinion. The smell of roasted coffee beans and bubbling creamy milk was evident in the atmosphere, and the colour scheme of the shop had pallettes of vanilla and caramel. It was like I had entered not a shop but inside a nestling coffee cup! Pretty cool, especially for someone who loves coffee like me.

Also, a bunch of customers were inside too. This place was not lonely at all. Some couples were on a date, singles who just want peace of mind with a complimentary cup of coffee, and business workers too! To be honest, I liked one of the employee's suits too. It was of a short brunette woman with glasses. She was kind of cute too. And by how she was still typing away rapidly on her phone even while on her break, tells how much of a busy woman she must be. Damn, God forbid that I ever be this much busy in my career.

Working even at breaks. Scary, in my opinion.

Needless to say, that wasn't why I was here for. The city was new to me so naturally, I would be curious, but business comes first in such a case. And in this case, it's my case. So bringing myself back to schedule, I leave to the back alley, waiting for that man so we could finally meet after talking through emails and phone calls.

But......what was that man's name again?

Ah....Zen.....

Hmm, weird name. But as someone who prefers to be called CJ than Catherine Joseph, I am no one to say so. Or even judge so.

Zen......I wonder what kind of person he would be in flesh. Same friendly and confident as the impression of him in my mind? Or just some different personality I never saw coming? Well, only time will tell that. But right now, we wait.

#catjose #mystic messenger oc #mystic messenger cmc #mystic messenger mc #mysme cmc #mysme oc #mysme mc #mysme #mystic messenger #cmc #oc-tober

[fluffyglass]

THE MR. TICKLE KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF MASTERPOST

I'm making this on the same rewatch as my Mr. Bump and Mr. Messy analysises, meaning I'm running 3 different posts at once. This is probably a horrible idea, but I really just wanna get this over with.

Season 1

Mr. Tickle appears in 21 episodes of Season 1.

In 6 of these episodes he does something wrong.

Season 2

Mr. Tickle appears in 31 episodes of Season 2.

In 12 of these episodes he does something wrong.

Conclusions

Welp, with his 18/52 crimes, Mr. Tickle lands himself with a final percentage of 34%. Counting unsures, he would've bumped himself up to 44%, but I'm not counting his unsures cause bdjfhadfjdfn.

SEASON 1

Flying - Pressures Mr. Quiet into going in the helicopter with him despite him wanting to go home. fuck this segment by the way the other mr quiet one is better

Music - he's there but doesnt really do anything

Physical - he funkin yo

Farm - i. i fucking hate this episode. i hate this episode. I hate this episode. a lot. I just. god. I. God. What am I supposed to say here. He doesn't. He doesn't do anything objectively wrong I just. Why. Why are we still here. Just to suffer. He gets a pink because he doesn't fucking deserve a yellow. Fuck this episode.

Mall - FUCK you

Boats - ..should i count this???? what ??? ??? ?

Superstore - wow he actually stopped when asked to. that's new. the bar is so incredibly low

(despite having an entire song about him, Mr. Tickle doesn't actually appear in Camping!)

Jobs - hey that actually worked out kinda well

Amusement Park - you get what you fucking deserve you orange dancing inflatable tube man like you know the ones

Games - wg

Hotel - this show is so dumb

Chores - fuck you

Food - he's just kinda there

Bugs - EYES ON THE ROAD MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!!! also hes more of a creep than usual what the fuck

Circus - he is SO talented

Canned Goods - fuck you

Ships - what

Night - SDJJKADFNMFMGNMFG

Sightseeing - melemelemelemelemelemlmelmelmelemlemlemel

Lawns - hes just kinda there

Parade - yknow what i said about flying? that again also Miss Calamity died

SEASON 2

Driving - WHAT THE FUCK

Outer Space - fuck you

Shoes - you heard it here everybody! Mr. Tickle has canonically done drag AND called Mr. Grumpy handsome!

Arts and Crafts - hes just kinda there

Toys - what even just happened

Reptiles - yeah he sure is there!

Hats - wow this actually works out for everyone involved

Parties - yep

Dining Out - ITS BACK TO HAUNT ME.

Gifts - fuck you

Sun and Moon - yeah hes just kinda there

Telephone - you are a massive bitch

Seashore - why are you so weird

Washing and Drying - they are LITERALLY in the closet

Sneezes & Hiccups - im still tired

Fruit - sigbv

Skyscrapers - Mr. Grumpy is clearly having a terrible time please stop

Cinema - for once its not home invasion! it's car invasion!

Clocks - fuck you

Post Office - ugh

Dance Dance Dance - YEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH

Trees - he really didn't need to be here

Library - I hate you

Pirates - ITS ALMOST UNNOTICEABLE BUT IVE WATCHED THIS SEGMENT MANY TIMES. I'm qualified to say that he tries to use Mr. Rude as a human shield against the aliens.

Goo - hes just vibin

Trains & Planes - fuck you

Next Door - WHY ARE YOU EVEN HeRE YOU DO NOTHING!!!!!

Fairies and Gnomes - home invasion

Birds - bbbbbb

Parks - yeah hes there I guess

Travel - what is going on anymore

#mr men #the mr men show #mr tickle

[honesthammie]

4th prompt part 2

The silence was appreciated as your mind wrapped up today's event. You had met your soulmate in a goddess of a woman. Everything you had discovered so far was perfect. You watched as she pulled a metal disk and metal stick from her pockets. The metal stick made a strange buzzing sound and glowed a faint orange at the tip as she hovered over the disk.

"What are you doing?" You asked after watching her in curiosity for a few moments. You would've let her continue as her face was quite the sight. Her eyes were sparkling with intent and her nose had the most adorable scrunch.

She stopped for a moment as you spoke as if thinking on what to say before continuing. "I'm scanning for any spider eggs in the building so we can take them with the other spiders to a planet of their own. A planet without civilisation but full to the brim with creatures they can eat. I think, the fam got them all. No, fam still doesn't seem right. The team does sound better!"

"A planet? What, are you some kind of alien?"

"Yes. Would that be a problem?" She asked. From the way her eyes sparkled, I believed her. Great, no wonder why she seemed so ethereal! So when I say, she's out of this world, it'd be a fact and not a flirtatious comment! For fuck sake, that's one of my best lines as well! Maybe I could use it when the time is right?

"Nope. After the discoveries of my life recently, that's actually the most believable thing. Please don't ask yet. However, those spider babies trust me. You aren't going to get them to listen without me. I spent at least a full 5 hours with them, they trust me more than you. Come on little Miss Sunshine, hop to it, the spiders won't wait forever." I spoke with confidence. I knew she knew, she needed me. That's why she followed me. "I'm (y/n) by the way"

"Great name! Love that name, was always one of my favourites. I've always fancied myself as a (y/n) but the faces never seem to fit it. I'm normally a John but I can't be now I'm a woman. Why don't you give me an alias for when I'm undercover?"

"Hmmm. I quite liked the name Alice and you certainly suit that name. Is there a name people call you when you aren't undercover. What do family call you?"

"Alice. I love that! I'm keeping Smith. Alice Smith. Perfect! Knew you'd be the one to help me. People tend to call me the Doctor. So do I for some reason. Wish I knew why."

This cute blonde alien was more mysterious the more we talked. She told me of how her ship goes in time as well as in space. She told me of the time of when she met Robin Hood with an older face and a companion named Clara. All this talk and I wasn't bothered once by it. I could listen and watch her all day as she talks about adventures she's been on. She puts all the theatrics on and waves her arms about with so much passion and her eyes show her emotions so clearly. But I also saw age. If she's older than she looks, just how old is she? Not that it bothers me, it's just, if she's like hundreds of years old, she's probably had other lovers and I don't know if plain old me can compete with that.

Sooner than we realised, we came towards a blue Police box. She clicked her fingers and waltzed right in. This must be her TARDIS. I walked inside with awe. The ship was beautiful inside. Like a gem hidden as an ore. The golden and blue lights perfectly reflected her personality.

"It's fucking massive Sunshine! Ya didn't warn me about walking into a football field! No wonder why thousands of spiders seemed no problem! Fucking hell!" I stated as my eyes scanned the room in front of me. Then I felt a little tug on my right trouser leg. I looked down and saw a little spider wanting my attention. I bent down and picked him up. He seemed happy to be held like that so I kept him in that position as I wondered towards the Doctor.

I had so many questions I wanted to know and I'm sure she has too. But now was not the time for that. We needed to get these spiders to their new home. I continued to watch the Doctor as she danced around something she called a console. She was pressing buttons and pulling levers and many more things until the ship made a strange wheezing noise and I was thrown off my feet. Thankfully I was caught by someone. I looked up and saw an oldish man.

"Hello Love! I can tell this your first time here. We all fell down when she first did that with us. You learn to find something to grab onto. I'm Graham by the way." Graham spoke gently but loudly over the noise of the ship. I couldn't help but giggle, my grandad used to call me Love too.

Then as quick as the ship started, it came to a gentle stop. I looked around and notice the same 2 people from earlier. The girl was smiling and laughing to something the boy mentioned. They must be old friends. I then noticed the Doctor walk towards the doors and open them just enough for her to check outside.

"Right (n/n). I'm calling you that as we are friends now. Go on, it's your first new planet and you care about these spiders more than we do so I think it's best if you check everything it perfect for them!" The Doctor spoke with excitement. She even clapped her hands for a moment, obviously not being able to control the surge of energy running through her.

I held the spider in my arms and the doors opened in front of me. I closed my eyes for a moment as the light blinded me temporarily. I could feel the warmth of a sun and the cool breeze the gently whipped past your face giving you the perfect cooling needed. The planet smelled sweet yet sour like Toxic waste sweets. I could hear many creatures making strange noises, some were doing a high pitched growl and some others were doing deep scream. Then there were nicer sounds like birds tweeting but in a lower key and something sounded like a piano, specifically an old ragtime piano.

I slowly opened my eyes and noticed the silver sky and its 4 suns in each direction. I noticed that the high pitched growl was from a small flying frog like creature and the deep scream was from a big rabbit- horse like creature that was just chewing the purple leaves off the metal looking trees. The bird like sound belonged to a small Robin like creature, but instead of a red chest it was a beautiful blue hue and it had silver eyes that sparkled just right. The Ragtime piano sound belonged to a dog-raccoon like creature that scampered away with its mouth full of the fallen berries that the rabbit-horse dropped from the leaves. The grass beneath was as black as ink and the pond to the right of me was a strange red colour.

"Well what do ya think? I personally think it's perfect but you seem to know these arachnids better than me so, I could be wrong, although, I'm not often" The Doctor spoke with eagerness. I noticed her looking at me as I took in the world around me. Why does this feel all too familiar to me? Why do I like the escapism of Earth? Why is this so, freeing?

I took a deep breath in. "Its perfect Doc. The spiders will love it here! They'll adapt pretty quickly I believe. The creatures are big enough to satisfy them. Although the sounds are a little off putting." I put the spider in my arms in the oddly cotton soft grass and watched as the thousands of others followed in its footsteps. Some carried the baby spiders and others carried the eggs. They had already found a cave to lay the eggs and started weaving some webs within 10 minutes.

Once I was happy with everything, I said my goodbyes and entered the strange ship once more. I could feel fresh tears sting my eyes like tiny hot needles. I get so attached so quickly and I noticed the string warm up and I checked on my soulmate, she was looking at me with an all too familiar look, the look of complete adoration. So the string tells me when her love for me evolves until we kiss? I mean, that's when it disappears for everyone else.

"This was great Sunshine! I had a ride of a lifetime, I really did. So I guess, you can drop me off home, I'm probably not wanted and I don't wanna ruin your team dynamic here."

"Why on Earth would you think that? I was actually wondering if you'd like to join us. Those spiders trusted you and having someone like you would really make the adventures more thrilling. Besides, I really like you and there's something special about you and I can't place my finger on it. I don't like not knowing things. If I drop these off home for a bit, would you mind if I ran some tests on you?"

"Really? Sure. I don't mind. I actually wanna know aswell. You see, I know what's special but I don't want to tell you in front of the others, its a bit embarrassing." I asked whilst blushing. She nodded her head and set the TARDIS coordinates to Sheffield. The Doctor promised she'd be back in a week and set the TARDIS to float in our solar system whilst she got to work on me.

We walked into what I can assume is some sort of med Bay. The walk had conversations about the last planet and how we thought the spiders would adjust. Eventually she sat me down on a white bed.

"So, you said you knew why you were special. I don't like cliffhangers so I'll give you a custard cream if you tell me." She said as she got a paper document and waited for me to speak.

"I don't know how or why but have you ever heard of the red string of fate story?" I asked, wondering how to word this without sounding weird. She nodded her head in understanding. "Well, when I turned 16, I could see everyone's red strings. The world was covered in red. I was confused at first until I read that story."

"Hmm. That is interesting because all stories have some truth to them. Some are exaggerated and some are exactly as said. Well that story is a good example of that. Thousands of years ago, there were 2 species of human, homo sapiens and homo spectrians. Spectrians were low on numbers in population as they'd spend almost all their life playing match maker. You'd know Spectrians as Cupids. However when battles and wars happened, Cupids were out of a job as everyone had to focus on the country and not themselves. This is where arranged marriages started happening and Cupids were becoming depressed. Eventually the Cupids decided to blend in with the humans and became virtually extinct. You might be the only Cupid left in the universe, other than Valentine himself." She explained it so well.

"Can Cupids see their own string?" I asked. She paused for a moment. Her eyes flickered between heartbroken and hopeful. I felt the string flicker between cold and toasty warm just like her eyes.

"No. Cupids weren't supposed to have soulmates. But I guess you are technically half human so maybe that makes sense. Do you know who your soulmate is?"

"She's amazing. She's like a Goddess. When I first saw her I immediately thought, She's too fucking perfect for someone like me. She incredibly smart too but, can be oblivious. I mean, I only met her a few hours ago and I'm fucking smitten with her. She reminds me of sunshines and rainbows. I'm just waiting for her to make a move." I told her. She looked at me for a moment, processing this new information. She smirked for a moment once she figured it out.

"Well my soulmate had me wrapped around her finger the second she jumped in front of a spider to save her life. A bold move like that normally makes me mad but, she did it so well. I haven't known her long but I can see me being by her side forever, travelling the stars. She reminds me of those stars actually. The way she sparkles in the light. I love you (y/n) with both of my hearts." She spoke softly as we slowly leaned in. When she finished, she planted her soft lips on mine and the red string was gone. Not that I noticed until an hour later when we picked the team up and held hands to announce our relationship.

Maybe dating a sunshine is exactly who I needed.

#13th doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #female reader #13th doctor x reader #soulmate