#''utterly dwarfed'' is fucking *incredible*

[andromeda3116]

rereading order of the stick (again), and greyiew is only in a few comics so far but man do i love this nihilistic wolf

[thepunkmuppet]

JUST WATCHED CINDERELLA’S CASTLE SO HERE ARE SOME VERY INCOHERENT AND YIPPEE-HEAVY AND SPOILERY THOUGHTS HERE YOU GO :3

jeff blim narrator jeff blim narrator Jeff blim narrator jeff blim narrator jeff blim narrator Jeff blim narrator Jeff blim narrator Jeff blim nataror jeff blim narrator jeff blim narrator jaeff blim natator hjj Jeff belim msttro hmmmmmmm

Jeff Blim Narrator

I ship ella and thaddius SO hard starkid knows how to write straight people I’m hhhhhhhh I was literally giggling squealing kicking my feet I CAN’T

everyone’s vocals absolutely ATE, but I was just utterly floored by mariah, kim and ESPECIALLY BRYCE OH MY GOD CAST HER IN EVERYTHING EVER MADE EVER WHAT THE FUCK??? so genuinely proud of her, she is fucking incredible what a presence

the prince was fucking hilarious james tolbert love of my LIFE

ANGELAAAAAAAA UGH SHE WAS SO FUCKING ICONIC I CANNOTTTT I’M HER BIGGEST FAN ISTG

the songs were genuinely GREAT jeff blim has yet to ever fail me bro just churns out constant bangers

jeff blim narrator

YOU’RE DEFEATED!! 🐸⚔️

crumb my actual beloved he was so adorable I could cry, I also loved the dwarf guy joey richter is my bbgirl forever

mariah is the loml forever no matter what literally marry me

all the vocal effects on Kim and Angela were sooooooo effective, literally STUNNING not to mention just kim’s character and performance as a whole, oh WOW

can’t remember the exact line but something along the lines of “I JUST SAW A COCK PLEASE SPARE ME OF MORE TORMENT ON THIS DAY”. fucking KILLED ME

yk what else fucking killed me

jeff blim narrator

[armoredsuperheavy]

MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE: An Insufferably Queer Film Review

I rewatched MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE (1987) for the first time since it came out last night and WOW I have some thots about this thing. We enjoyed roasting the living shit out of it but there's a few gold nuggets in there despite the brutal budget cuts that impacted the plot and what not.

Contains plenty of spoilers.

God bless Wardrobe

OK so … the film doesn't bother to set up any real motivations for the characters, and He-Man (an incredible looking Dolph Lundgren rrrowrrrr) has almost no dialogue which is such a fucking waste. But this complete lack of narrative framework means we can apply OUR OWN explanations to events.

From the very beginning Skeletor has this obsession with He-Man, which will simmer and then culminate in a final showdown. But before we get to that hot mess, we have to wade through the middle of the film.

He gets as much screen time as He-Man.

Meet the utterly repulsive dwarf scientist Gwildor played by Billy Barty, a rinse-and-repeat of his performance as an utterly repulsive magic troll in Legend (1986). This dwarf is the film's Jar Jar. His face is like a deep dish pizza after an acid attack. His real mouth is visible behind the immobile thick prosthetics and it makes for some truly disturbing close-up dialogue shots. Please, pan away from Pizza the Hutt and give us another shot of Lundgren's pecs please I am begging you, DP

We find ourselves in Gwildor's hobbit hole, and he's a magical inventor. So he has this cylindrical object, it's not clear whether it's a weapon or a teleporter but I'm calling it the Butt-Reamer 9000. Inexplicably, there are two of these things and Skeletor has the other one, and wants to collect both of them. So Skeletor has an excuse to go hunting He-Man as he's hunting his missing McGuffin, er I mean sex toy.

Features rotating ticklers, a big improvement over the Butt Reamer 8000.

The thing about the Butt-Reamer 9000 is its magical power to make even this promising setup devolve into a grind as it whisks the Eternians into the magical, enchanting world of a 1987 New Jersey parking lot. WHO WROTE THIS?

The entire middle of the movie is pretty much hot garbage and involves police detectives, arson, vandalism, high school prom, and other dumb bullshit. Aside from the distractingly naked He-Man, the good guys are an utter bore and include some Eternians, some regular Earth humans and their quotidian concerns which really brings down the fun of the movie. (No, baby Courtney Cox, I don't care about your imminent breakup with your mediocre boyfriend!)

The film owes a second mortgage to Star Wars and steals a lot of ideas from it, from bad guys in shiny black stormtrooper helmets, to heroes shooting blue lasers, baddies shooting red.

Let's turn from this depressing state of affairs and focus back on our cherished villain blorbos.

(L-R: Karg, Evil-Lyn our goddess, and Blade.)

Evil-Lyn is beautiful, evil, a cold bitch queen. Gurl you can do so much better than sticking with this loser Skeletor.

Dump! Him! He's gay anyway!

Skeletor is a shit lazy boss of Greyskull and makes Evil-Lyn run the goddamn place in general. He literally shoots the messenger at one point. Great for morale, there, Skel buddy.

Look closer. Fierce!

There's a number of budget rate henchmen on the job, including Karg, who used a whole can of aqua net this morning and is running around in a white fur capelet with a massive bouffant. He is just doing his best okay, really it's hard to look fabulous around these other bitches.

Blade definitely deserved more screen time

Also, Blade, who had a slutty costume of silvery scale maille or something, and was a bit like a sci-fi bondage Riff Raff / space Judas Priest. Best side character costume.

So, there we have it, the queer coded villain roster of the film.

This homemade collage is for sure taped inside Skeletor's locker at school

Note the gigantic brown eye.

Finally, thank Satan, we return to Castle Greyskull, though it's more like beige-and-brown-skull. But aside from the questionable use of faux marble finishes, this is a quality villain lair with hard points installed directly in the floor of the living room, convenient death pits, and an excellent throne setup that I'm pretty sure they recycled for The Fifth Element.

He-Man is captured alive and brought before Skeletor. Blade does the honors with a 15 foot glowing red bullwhip to He-Man's naked and oiled back, much to the delight of dyed-in-the-wool sadist Evil-Lyn.

Movie is getting good now. Was the side quest to Jersey really necessary?

Skeletor, though, watches this action from the throne and has a lot of interesting responses. We had to conclude that Skeletor is a big old bottom but won't admit it. As a dom he is utterly ineffective. He's trying to make He-man kneel and all this shit but He-Man is not submissive at all. Skeletor is … lol. He really just wants to smell He-Man's dick.

The depths (heh) of his bottom nature will become apparent shortly. But first, a costume change.

Skeletor's glow up --- i'm every woman.

Honey we know you're just trying to impress He-man.

Werk tho.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Hole

The gigantic sky-sphincter directly behind the throne has slid open wide… "Begin! The Goatse Ritual! Join me, He-Man, as I become LORD OF THE GAPE" But He-Man's phallic symbol shines bright in defiance. In the end, Skeletor is vanquished symbolically by his own nature and instead of his hole swallowing He-Man, a gaping hole swallows Skeletor instead.

They don't really explain what happened to Evil-Lyn after He-Man's inevitable victory in final man to man combat but she was too smart to get caught sleeping in there and must have survived. What a hot evil competent BABE. After the events of the film end, I vote that Evil-Lyn seduces Teela (the good guy solder lady) and has a hot toxic lesbian affair with her.

Evil-Lyn serves cunt in hell 4 evar

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

Want some more?

Nice fanart

Another breakdown on Buzzfeed if you enjoyed mine this is even more gay headcanon

The movie is free on Tubi if you want to subject yourself to it.

ArmoredSuperHeavy, 19 Aug 2023

[junkdrawernoggin]

SPOILERS for CINDERELLA'S CASTLE

Wanted to put a warning because if you can see it you should, and for all the folks who are going to wait for the YouTube release. There are also critiques in here, so if you don't want to see that, pass on by and have a good day!

I really really enjoyed it! I have a couple issues with it so I'll get those out of the way first. I mean these with all respect and kindness to the cast and crew.

Main Issue: You can tell who is an old Starkid member

This distracted me a lot. In this production there are only 3 original members on stage (I'm counting anyone who did AVPMs). That's Jeff Blim, Lauren Lopez, and Joey Richter. They are obviously all very talented. However

My critique for Lauren is that she did the same voice for Rancilda that she did for Ruth, and I wasn't a fan when she did it then. I haven't loved any of her sniveling loser roles, finding them far too annoying to enjoy. Emma and Zazzalil were fantastic, as well as her Tin Can roles. Please let her do that instead.

Edit: The Rancilda voice is actually not Ruth's. There is another character she does that has this exact same shrill thing going on, but for the life of me I cannot recall who it is.

Jeff is a great song writer, but he consistently writes himself parts that are out of his comfortable range. That or his vocal health is in serious disrepair by performance time. The "Castle on a Hill" demo sounds great, but in the DT performance I can almost feel the strain. I miss his lower range.

Joey did amazing puppet work; I especially enjoyed the parts where he was the old dwarf. The problem comes with the singing. NPMD I enjoyed his singing, and he's been good in the Tin Can productions. But you can hear him straining in the background which I felt hindered some of the ensemble parts.

I LOVE the old cast. They all bring unique skills to the table. But I think they are very comfortable now, and also sometimes make choices they think are good but in actuality hinder themselves. I'd love if a different writer came on board to mix things up. They need to be unafraid of giving honest feedback.

Now to the good!

The "new" cast members are so incredible!

Bryce rocked it, and I'm glad to see her highlighted after how well she did in NPMD. She sold every emotion, and her mix of wit and despair was heartcrushing. I would watch a 10 hour version of this production just to see more of her.

James was great. I don't find overly sexual humor that funny, but he did very well keeping a straight face and being utterly sincere with it all.

I will fully admit I have a crush on Kim and Curt, which colors my perspective of them a bit. Kim is such an incredible singer, I could listen to her all day. She's only the Fairy Queen for like...10ish minutes but she absolutely and utterly steals the show. No one else could've sold me that hard on how ethereal she was. Curt impossibly has chemistry with literally every person he's paired with. From the previews I was hoping Tadius and Ella would be paired up, so I am peachy pleased it turned out that way!

Jon was great, his role was clearly inspired by Septimus from Labyrinth and I love how hard he leaned into that.

I also adore Mariah, and I really loved this for her. She has had a pretty wild amount of diversity in all of her roles for Starkid. I was happy to see her really lean into the comedy and shenanigans of it all.

And the cherry on top, ANGELA!!!! I will admit, in Black Friday i wasn't her biggest fan. Mostly because I was so disappointed Mariah was unable to be in that production. However, she utterly shocked me in NPMD, that girl is MADE to play villains!!! I was a bit confused on why Angela was chosen for the stepmother and not Lauren, but oh boy when she came on stage I was HOOKED! She was fantastic. Is she a great singer? In my personal opinion, no not really. Do I really care? NOT AT ALL!! Highlight of the show 10/10

Also the set design was fucking incredible!! I like that they downsized (or at least it looked like they downsized) from the NPMD stage. It looked empty all the time. This time it felt so full and high budget. The lighting was phenomenal, the first time I've ever noticed lighting in a show and not for a bad reason.

The band was great, they always are!

The songs were...iffy. They didn't stick with me the way the NPMD ones did, certainly not like Black Friday or TGWDLM did. I'm a big music fan (I trained professionally to sing as well), so songs stick with me a lot even on a first listen. I know the opening "There's a castle on a hill as the story goes..." because I've watched the announcements so many times. Other than that, I really cannot tell you a single lyric from most of the songs in this show. Very odd for me.

Okay, going in for another watch. Maybe I'll have other opinions after.

[naddpod-encounter-tourney]

Option 1:

Enemy: Pandemonium Goat Fiend, Lillith La Trix, Akarot

Episodes: C1 E73: Pandemonium

Time: 15:13-2:08:05

Finish: Mavrus (Goat), Hardwon (Lillith)

Notes: They ally themselves with Team Ren, some of whom immediately die. Mavrus fucking crushes it with Counterspell. Ren keeps hitting allies as he attempts to "help". The party splits between the basement and the main fight. Gladeholm falls out of the sky and Ren and Mavrus have to help save the city. Moonshine gets a nat 20 on the Thinking Cap. Bev makes friends by making up maneuvers.

Propaganda: (anonymous) The Mavrus counterspells, the struggle for the Thinking Cap, the oh shit moment when the All Caster is under attack, Ren and his bullshit, the knock down drag out fight that utterly drains the boobs,the incredible ambush on Akarot that nearly doesn't work, just the entire fight with Akarot in general. This was a brutal fight for the boobs and it nearly all went to shit. They barely saved the city but by god they did it

Option 2:

Enemy: The Hounds (Original)

Episode: C1 E54: Killing Blow

Time: 58:36-1:42:45

Finish: Balnor (the mage), Moonshine (and Balnor) (Zalek), Bev (Illex and Drisda)

Notes: Balnor gets to fight the people who killed his family. The dads obliterate the mage in round fucking one. Zalek has a death lance that is so fucking scary and then it kills Hardwon. Illex whips his allies. Bev crits on Zalek after Hardwon gets got. Hardwon has a vision of his possible after lives, including Gemma with Moradin, his dad with Kord, and his mom somewhere in Shadowfell. They really brutally kill all the enemies because they deserve it. Bev casts his first revivify, and Moonshine puts her boobs in Hardwon's face to entice him back to life.

Propaganda: (from @misslevel)

my dealer: got some straight gas 🔥😝 this strain is called "death lance" 😳 you'll be zonked out of your gourd 💯 me: yeah whatever. I don't feel shit.  5 minutes later: dude I swear I just heard my ex-girlfriend whispering to me from dwarf heaven and my dad calling out from the halls of isgard my buddy The Widow pacing: we can get out of this place together

[chiefbasementcreator]

Prompt: Naruto, during his visit to Garden was seduced by Olga Discordia and have tender, passionate anal sex with her.

Eveey single one of the princesses he'd met had been a joy to interact with. Whether because of the conversations he'd had with them about shared interests, because the enthusiasm they had for their tasks was inspiring, or simply because they were hot, Naruto had been greatly enjoying himself in Garden so far. It helped that the place he stayed at was gorgeous, with amazing palaces and streets to explore, to visit and hang out at.

But when he'd met Olga, Naruto had forgotten about any other princess entirely, smitten with the brown elf from the moment he'd seen her for the first time. To his incredible luck, she had reciprocated his feelings, and the two had been inseparable since, usi'g any free time they had to be together. Sometimes chatting, sometimes exercising, sometimes staying silent and enjoying each other's company, and sometimes...

... and sometimes theywere fucking.

They had retreated to Olga's chambers, making out and groping each other. Olga never had enough of Naruto's muscular body, her hands running along his abs, stroking his biceps, feeling his muscles under her fingers, while Naruto could barely get his hands off the elf's curvy body, her waist, her breasts, her ass all perfect for him.

"You are so stunning." He whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek.

His hand grabbed his cock, positioning it, rubbing against her voluptuous asscheeks as he helf her with his other arm.

"Please, Naruto..." The dark elf's breath was hot and full of desire as she gasped, encouraging him as she moved her ass. "Please, fuck me~"

Naruto's cock slowly slid inside her, very progressively going deeper, taking his time. Every inch was savoured, by him as his cock was squeezed by her wonderfully soft and tight ass, and by her as she felt his length and girth stretch her. The pain she felt was utterly dwarfed by the pleasure she experienced, closing her eyes as his cock entered her.

"You feel so good~" she gasped against her pillow, starting to slowly push her ass, making his cock go deeper within her. She'd never felt this hot before, and the way his fingers gently ran through her long hair only intensified her feelings.

"You're stunning." Naruto groaned.

[dumbass-extraordinaire]

whats w359? it sounds kinda interesting

oooh i'm so glad u asked homie! it's a "comedy" podcast about the life of the crew of the uss hephaestus station as the orbit red dwarf star wolf 359. it's fucking incredible and changed me fundamentally as a person and i haven't stopped thinking about it since i finished listening in 2020. the mc doug eiffel is my blorbo of all time and the ultimate poor little meow meow. extremely well written characters with the added bonus of there being no romantic relationships whatsoever. the crew is friends with the ai, hera who has anxiety <3

big anticapitalist themes, incredible musical motifs, complex male/female friendships, this podcast has it all! do you like men who are utterly pathetic and riddled with guilt and self-hatred? do you like women who get shit done? do you like to wonder about whether or not we as human beings are nothing more than a collection of our memories and experiences? do you struggle with the concept of personhood in a capitalist hellscape that defines worth based on productivity? if you answered yes to any of these questions, then wolf 359 is for you!

it was one of the first podcasts i ever listened to, and it is one of my favorite pieces of media ever. i HIGHLY reccomend it to everyone and anyone. it's completed and very bingeable with just 61 episodes, each about 30 minutes in length.

do yourself a favor and go listen to it! i use spotify but its available on pretty much any podcast platform.

[bffsoobin]

Apartment 370

↳everything about your apartment was perfect. Aside from your neighbor. Choi Soobin has become the bane of your existence. You can’t go a single day without looking over your shoulder for your misleadingly handsome neighbor. Just how many petty pranks does he think he can get away with?

➤ enemies to lovers!au, neighbors!au, arguments, petty behavior, swearing, fluff

Word Count: 3,062

Requested?: yes

Warnings: none really other than swearing and Soobin kind of being an ass. I also didn’t proof read or edit this, as per usual.

A/N: To be honest I’m feeling a little unsure about this? I loved the concept and I’m very glad that a lovely follower requested it but I feel like lately all of my writing has started out really well and then just got progressively worse? Like all of the endings I write are just kind of lame? Just a weird insecurity I’ve been encountering lately. So please leave me some feedback on what you think about this!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

You loved your apartment. It was small, but just right for you to live in. The shower had hot water, your bedroom had a beautiful window for your plants to sit on and the wifi connection was always working well. You even only had to travel up two flights of stairs if your elevator stopped working. There were a lot of pros to living at your complex. But there was one, massive, glaring and obnoxiously loud con. Choi Soobin. When he had moved in next to you, you tried to be nice. You knocked on his door and introduced yourself; making some kind of lame joke about borrowing sugar. 

He didn’t laugh. He just introduced himself back and apologized for not having any sugar. Apologized? Had he really missed the joke that bad? Your delivery had been impeccable. Despite his charming face and annoyingly adorable style, you decided there was no way you could be friends with someone who didn’t understand a classic joke. 

Soobin must have decided there was a reason he didn’t like you either, because just about a week into being neighbors he began to wreak havoc. He played music as loud as it possibly could be at the weirdest times of the day and yelled at his television way too much no matter what he was watching. It seemed like every day you had to storm over and knock on his door to complain. This went on for weeks until he finally agreed to stop when you threatened to involve your burly landlord in the matter. 

For a few days, you enjoyed peace and quiet. You came and went from work without seeing him, took naps in silence and remembered how it felt to cook in your own kitchen without the sound of a twenty something year old man screaming at reruns of Survivor as background music. 

As they say, ignorance is bliss, because little did you know Soobin’s silence was about to erupt into a new, massive volcano of stupidity. One night you woke up around 4 am to the sound of scratching coming from the wall that connected your and Soobin’s bedrooms. You were already annoyed at the fact that you had to be up at 7am to pick up an early shift for your slacking coworker, so you didn’t have it in you to just roll over and go back to bed. You couldn’t have if you wanted to anyway because the scratching noises were only getting more and more persistent. You flung yourself out of bed with a groan. Pets were allowed here, and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Soobin had gotten a cat who decided to be a little extra scratchy. 

You poured yourself a glass of water in the kitchen, hoping to clear your mind and sort your thoughts. In the silence of the night, you could hear Soobin’s panicked voice through the thin walls. It sounded like he was on the phone with someone, as you could hear pauses as if he were listening to someone else. What a weird fucking dude, you thought. With eyes still drooping you walked back to your bedroom. The cat would have to be done scratching at the wall by now, right?

Wrong. The same consistent noise that would surely haunt your dreams still persisted. Knowing Soobin was awake gave you enough grounds to throw on a sweatshirt over your sleep clothes and go knock on his door. 

When it swung open, you could see just how distraught he was. His usually fluffy hair was flat and knotted and his eyes were sporting huge dark circles that only made the panic in them amplified. Wait, panic?  

“Y/N, I’m really sorry but you need to leave,” he had the door open just far enough to stick his head and shoulders out, as if he were trying to hide something. 

“No, Soobin. I heard your cat scratching at the wall and it’s annoying the hell out of me. I can’t sleep. Can’t you lock it in the bathroom or something?” His face scrunched in confusion. 

“A cat? I don’t have a cat.” Your insides boiled with hatred at the idea of him trying to lie his way out of this. 

“Listen up Choi. Unless you have a dragon in your bedroom scratching the shit out of the walls, I don’t want to deal with your lies. Just take care of it! I need my beauty sleep and you and your noisy cat aren’t helping at all.” Soobin’s face paled and for a second you thought that you had finally won. And then Soobin said:

“It’s not a cat. It’s a racoon.” 

You almost fell onto your ass right in the hallway. Soobin’s eyes sparked with a type of mirth you never thought such an admittedly gorgeous face could possess. 

“I’m calling the landlord.” You snapped the door shut in his face and turned away.

That had apparently been the final straw for Soobin. The next day when you got back from work, you found a handwritten “RACOON HATER” sign taped to your door. What you found inside was somehow even more unsettling. Your whole living room and kitchen had been essentially trashed. Throw pillows and blankets were thrown haphazardly on the floor, many of your photos and art you had on the walls were switched around or taken down altogether. And the worst of it all; everything was covered in a fine dust of glitter. It was a struggle to find a single surface that wasn’t covered in glitter, really. 

A new type of dislike for Choi Soobin brewed in your stomach. Hatred. Your kitchen counter- also covered in a dust of chunky silver glitter- became the victim of your frustrations as you slammed your hands down. It would cost you so much time and money to get all the glitter out of your living spaces, let alone the fact that you'd inevitably be leaving some behind for the next poor soul to rent this apartment. Gritting your teeth, you went to work with your poor little vacuum. 

You had only managed to clean your coffee table and half of your couch before you heard a series of loud knocks on your door. You grumbled at the idea of having to take a pause in your work but you trudged over to the door anyway. 

To be honest, you had no idea who you were expecting to see behind your apartment door-which you belatedly realized was still decorated with Soobin’s handmade sign- but you didn’t think it would be the man himself. 

Soobin stood in the hallway, picture perfect as always. His face was tan and smooth and free from any possible blemishes. Had he plucked his eyebrows? They were groomed to neat perfection. His tall frame was dwarfed by a fuzzy blue sweatshirt that was easily a size too big. If you had met him by chance on the street, you would have fallen in love in an instant. But you knew better. You knew he was the one who reduced your once lovely apartment into the mess it was now.

“Oh, sorry,” he feigned innocence, “are you busy?” He didn’t even try to hide the smirk that blossomed on his face. A grumble of a curse fell from your lips before you responded. 

“Yeah. Some asshole decided to break into my apartment and spread glitter on everything. So yes, I’m sort of busy,” you laced your voice with enough venom to kill a horse, and it seemed as if Soobin had gotten the message as he shrunk back into the hallway a bit. His mouth opened and shut in rapid succession as he struggled to find the perfect retort. 

“I-” he cut himself off as his soft eyes became hyper focused on a spot on your face. Suddenly you were a new combination of concerned and offended. His hand hesitantly rose toward your face before the softness of his fingertips made contact with your cheek and brushed something away. You held your breath the entire time, unsure if you should be upset or worried or utterly lost in the way his skin felt against yours. The contact was brief but still made your skin burn bright red. When his hand left your cheek, you saw that he had brushed away a piece of glitter that was now resting delicately on his fingertip. 

“Sorry,” he hurried out, “I just wanted to get the glitter off of your face.” His whole demeanor had changed, and you were sure that whatever plan he had in mind when he knocked on your door had vanished. 

“Okay, weirdo,” you tried to ignore the way you were yearning to feel his touch again, “I’m still busy so can you like, go away?” Upon hearing your words he turned away to head for his apartment door with ears as red as you’d ever seen them. 

Although the glitter incident was now months behind you, you still often found pieces in random spots around your home. And Soobin was still a pain in your ass. He had been quiet for close to two weeks after your odd encounter and you were almost convinced that he had changed his ways. You were quickly proven wrong when he conned the man who works the front desk into hiding your mail for a week straight; making you subsequently late to paying some of your bills. 

More recently, a new person had moved into the apartment across the way. The first day you met him, you were busying yourself with taping up Soobin’s door with bright pink duct tape from the outside. Your new neighbor-who you learned to be named Yeonjun- had squatted down right next to you and offered to help tear pieces of the tape. 

You and Yeonjun had become fast friends. He was incredibly charming and willing to lend an ear every time you needed to complain about Soobin. For a while, you were almost able to forget the fact that the devil incarnate lived next door to you. While your work schedules tended to be a little crazy, the two of you managed to talk for at least a few minutes every day. He helped you gain some sanity back within your apartment hallway. 

Despite also being friends with Soobin, Yeonjun never took sides in your little feud; but you were always secretly worried that somehow Soobin would put a bug in his ear. One day, about two months after Yeonjun had moved in, he knocked on your door while you were in the middle of making dinner. You invited him in but he hesitated. 

“I just came to talk to you,” he bit into his bottom lip, “I really like you. But I don’t see us ever being more than friends. I hope you understand.” You scrunched your eyebrows. Where was this coming from? 

“Uh okay? I know that. I don’t like you...like that, Yeonjun. Did you hit your head or something?” You were seriously confused. Yeonjun’s eyes widened comically. 

“Well Soobin said that-“ as soon as the words fell out of his mouth Yeonjun put together the invisible puzzle pieces. His face morphed into extreme regret.  “I’m so sorry. I should have known it was part of your weird prank war. You should have seen how convincing his acting is though, he really had me thinking you had a crush on me.” You scoffed at the idea of Soobin beginning to spread rumors to one of your closest friends just for the hell of it. If Yeonjun hadn’t been mature enough to address it right away, you could have gone through weeks of confusion about why he was avoiding you.

You looked back at your kitchen, catching sight of the steaming bowl of ramen you’d just finished making. Sighing, you shut your door behind you to stand in the hall with Yeonjun. He looked sheepish in your presence as you laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m not mad at you, Yeonjun. I’m going to talk to the bane of my existence,” you gestured toward the door with the shiny ‘370’ plaque. “Just don’t bother calling the landlord if you hear yelling.” As soon as you heard the sound of Yeonjun’s door snapping shut, you laid into Soobin’s door with a heavy knock. As soon as it was opened far enough, you wedged your body inside and subsequently sent Soobin stumbling backwards. 

“How dare you?” You roared, throwing your hands in the air dramatically. “I’m fine with your petty pranks and all the other stupid shit you pull against me because that’s all between the two of us. At least it’s funny and gives me something to think about in my free time. But when you start to involve my friends? That’s way too far. There was no reason to rope Yeonjun into this. He’s your friend too, Choi.” Soobin seemed surprised that you had come in with so much to say right off the bat.

“Y/N it’s really not that big of a deal. I just wanted to see if you actually had the capacity to have a crush on someone. And you’ve been spending so much time with Yeonjun I figured he’d be the perfect person to test my theory with, plus the humiliation factor of him not liking you back would have kept me entertained for days” he sat down on his couch casually, “I guess he had to break it to you that you aren’t as flirty and irresistible as you think you are, huh?” The air crackled with tension as you gawked down at his sprawled form.

“What are you even saying? Yeonjun and I are just friends. And why does it matter to you if I have the capacity for a crush or not? You hate me. If you’re just waiting until I get a boyfriend so that you can come in and ruin it all with your shitty vendetta then you’re much worse of a person than I ever pegged you for!” Tears welled in your eyes but you wiped at them angrily. Out of all the fights and disagreements you’d ever had with Soobin, this was the first one that stirred an odd emotion in the pit of your stomach. You were tired of the back and forth. Soobin seemed oddly alarmed at the formation of your tears as he got up from the comfort of his couch and approached you like a wounded dog. 

“Trust me, I have no grand plan to ruin your life at every turn even though that’s what you think. You spend so much time with Yeonjun, I thought maybe you liked him. I knew he didn’t like you because when I told him that I-” Soobin actually clapped his own giant hand over his mouth as the words hung in the air between you. Anger shot through your mind at the idea that he didn’t even have the guts to relay the entire story. 

“You what? You’re so wrapped up in your own little world but you can’t even finish telling me what you said to someone else? I can’t believe you, honestly,” you turned and made your way toward his door, wanting nothing more than to go home and take a hot shower. Soobin’s hand clasped around your wrist as he gently yanked you away from the exit. His strong grip kept you standing right in front of him and although you struggled against him, there was no use. 

“I told him that I like you.” For a second, you thought that you had misheard him, but he continued. “I told Yeonjun that I like you. And he told me that I should go for it, because he doesn’t see you as more than a friend. But I freaked out so I told him that you liked him. I knew you probably actually didn’t.” 

Your brain was short circuiting at the confession. Choi Soobin, who had complicated your life beyond belief since the day he moved in months ago liked you? 

“But,” your eyebrows drew together as you tried to comprehend it all, “you hate me, Soobin. We have a whole...rivalry! There’s no way you actually have feelings for me. I swear if this is just another prank I’ll shove my hand so far down your throat-“ Soobin threw his hands up in front of his body in a form of defense. 

“No! I don’t hate you, Y/N. I’ve liked you since the day we met. I just thought the pranks and petty stuff was like...our way of hanging out? That’s why I kept doing them. I thought you were having fun with me.” It was ridiculous how much he sounded like a little boy explaining his side of the story to a teacher. It was even more ridiculous that the corner of your brain where you’d stuffed all your feelings for Soobin began to overflow. 

“Haven’t you ever heard that there’s much better ways to tell someone you like them? We could have spent the last 11 months not at each other’s throats if you would have just manned up and found out I like you too.” You saw the exact moment that the words finally processed and his entire face lit up with the recognition. 

A familiar, deeply dimpled smile grew across his face as his skin reddened. He clasped his hands in front of him and swayed back and forth on his feet. Before you could think to stop him, he leaned in close enough that you worried he could hear your heart thumping against your ribs. 

“You like me too?” 

“Yes, Soobin. I like you too. And I would like you even more if you stopped your stupid pranks,” you tapped his nose with your pointer finger twice. He nodded eagerly with his tongue sticking out from between his teeth slightly.

“Deal,” he stuck his hand out to you and you raised an eyebrow to silently ask if he was serious. His hand didn’t waver, so you grasped it firmly and pulled him toward your body until you could wrap him into a tight hug. It was an odd feeling, soaking in Soobin’s scent as he gently rocked the two of you back and forth in his apartment. Odd, but good. Perfect.

[need-a-fugue]

Trustworthy (Chapter Two)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Language... shitty language. And maybe sheer size? This one’s nearly 6,000 words... I may have gotten a little carried away. 😬

It began as a drunken joke, a flippant what if…

“If no one else is gonna do it,” you’d slurred out, voice barely above a whisper despite the cantina being utterly empty aside from the two of you, “we should take the motherfucker out ourselves.”

He’d laughed at the time, and promptly cut you off before insisting on walking you home. He helped you along the uneven streets of Leticia, held back your hair as you blew chunks into a dark alley, even slept on your couch that night just to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep. That’s what he told you, anyway. But you suspected that Santiago stuck around that night because he just couldn’t get your words out of his head.

You hadn’t been so drunk that you’d failed to notice the way he went eerily silent following your seemingly ludicrous suggestion. You hadn’t been so far gone that you’d missed the sudden glint to his eyes, nor the crooked smile that wrapped around his face as you said the words, “I want Lorea dead.”

That next morning, he brought it up casually, asking – before you even had the chance to brush your teeth – if you remembered what you’d said. When you told him you remembered every part, he simply told you to go on, nodding slowly along as you dove headfirst into a painfully impulsive proposal, your words still tinged with a lingering, drunken idealism. You spilled out the disparate thoughts you’d been harboring for months, if not longer – the ones that together formed little more than the ill-conceived beginnings of a damn stupid plan – only to discover that they were precisely in line with what he’d been contemplating as well.

By the end of the week, you were introducing him to your longtime informant, a woman who’d worked for Lorea in some capacity for years. A gorgeous woman, whom you’re almost entirely certain Santi fell into bed with later that same night. And after just a few months of nearly constant off-the-record investigating – both of you becoming utterly consumed by the thought of bringing Lorea down – that crazy, ridiculous, fucked-up joke you’d made had become a highly illegal, morally questionable, might-just-get-you-fired-and-thrown-into-a-federal-prison plot for ending the reign of one of the premier drug traffickers in South America.

You’d started it. There was no denying that. You’d started the whole damn thing.

For nearly three years, you fought the good fight with Santiago Garcia down in Colombia. He was one of just a handful of people there whom you trusted. He actually was one of just a handful of people there you even really knew.

If you ever got to chose an advisor to head up a mission, he’d be it. Any raid that fell within your purview, he’d help to organize. Intel was slow in coming, CIs dropping off, bosses telling you not to leave Leticia and to remember to stay in your lane? No problem. Garcia to the rescue.

He was able to operate largely independently – unlike poor, bound-by-the-rules-and-regulations-of-the-DEA you. Local cops and the surrounding military actually liked him and never balked at bringing him in, mostly because he was more than capable of playing along with their bullshit. Hell, he was so good at it, that for the first few months you knew him, he had you convinced that he either completely bought into the very obvious corruption surrounding that Amazonian paradise, or – if he really didn’t see it – he was dumber than a fucking box of rocks.

But Santiago Garcia never missed a damn thing. And while he might have seemed to have written off the actions of certain officials or the peculiarities you both encountered, he never ignored – nor forgot – the individuals he suspected of collusion. He was just smart enough to know when to act.

You, on the other hand, well, you never were very good at not calling people out. For all your life, if you saw something that seemed funky, you’d say something… immediately. If you ever suspected someone of lying, plotting, taking bribes, just plain being dirty, you’d raise an accusing finger high. Hell, that’s the main reason you got sent down to that southernmost point of the country, transferred away from what you saw as being the real goings-on, to simply help keep an eye on the drug runs taking place at the border.

Santiago taught you to quell your initial reactions of raising a stink when you believed something was amiss. He urged you to stop seeing the word in a never-ending list of black and white rules. He showed you how to keep from boiling over and calling people out, a thing that undoubtably kept you from getting yourself reassigned somewhere you’d be less of a nuisance… again.

He also fed you intel, shared specifics of his suspicions, and helped get you into military-run raids where DEA might otherwise have been shut out. And in the time in between – when you would normally just stalk around your small apartment all alone or perhaps stalk about the city… also all alone – he provided friendship, that not-so-tiny thing you’d been lacking ever since getting transferred from your post and away from the workmates and friends you’d had for years in Mexico.

He was fun and sharp-witted and outgoing, eager to make friends with just about anyone. He invited you out for drinks, dancing, into local card games. And though you often wondered why – did he feel sorry for you because the local police and military alike treated you like a damn leper? Was he trying to show others that you were alright, despite being a gringa DEA agent? Did he simply want to fuck you? – you’d be lying if you were to say that you didn’t feel damn lucky he’d stumbled into your life and forced his friendship upon you.

And how did you repay him? For all of the invites he’d extended, all the drinks purchased, all the intel he threw your way, all the military-run raids he somehow managed to get you in on? All of the trust and faith he invested in you?

You’d set him on a path to ruin.

000

The bar was much larger than you’d anticipated, the quick drive-by you did on your way to the motel earlier this afternoon making the freestanding structure – out in the middle of nowhere, like everything else in this Bumblefuck, USA town – appear small. Maybe it was because the massive parking lot dwarfed it. Maybe it was because you were only half awake, at best, and just didn’t notice the size of the place. Maybe it was because Santiago drove past it at 65 miles per hour, alerting you to it – that’s where we’ll meet up tonight – just as you flew by, allowing little more than a meager glimpse.

Regardless, you expected… less.

But the place is huge. There are two bars on either side of the sprawling building and tables flanking the wide-open center, which you could only imagine would at some point be flooded with drunken townies, eager to dance the night away.

When you first arrived – well over an hour ago – it had been just you and a handful of incredibly loud bros populating the place. You took off for the far bar, ordered yourself a drink, and slinked into a large table in a dark corner, eager to remain invisible until Santi arrived with his friends… his crack team. But – just as you’d come to expect from Garcia – he was nearly an hour late, and by the time he and his brothers-in-arms strolled in, you’d already been spotted by the douchebags at the bar and had to fight off the advances of two separate assholes, each of whom only approached you when making their way back from the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, bonita,” Santiago had proclaimed with a wide smile and a not-at-all-stifled laugh after you told him of your troubles. He turned to face the group of strangers at the bar, caught the glares of a few of them, and shouted over a simple dictate to, “Fuck off!”

And that had been the cap to your introduction to your new co-workers. They strode in, all smiles and laughter and blooming drunken glows, coming from what must have been a great fight night, undoubtably made all the better by being together once again, only to be forced to shake hands with you… a jetlagged stranger, washed out in the low light, obviously frazzled by having a guy fresh from the men’s room – who probably didn’t even bother to wash his hands – wrap an arm around your shoulder and tell you that the bathroom door locks… in case you wanted to check it out with him later.

They took your uncomfortable story in stride, exchanging pleasantries and apologizing again for their tardiness – well, Will apologized at least – before grabbing some drinks and then plopping down at the isolated table you’d chosen.

For a bit, the group of them just talk to one another, tying up loose ends to the conversations they’d been having before arriving. You catch snippets of nah, man, she’s gone… didn’t work out and do you have any idea how expensive kids’ soccer is? as their conversation flows around you, seemingly oblivious to your existence. For those first ten minutes or so – save Santiago’s paltry threat shouted across the bar and Benny’s rather flirtatious introduction – the whole team settles in around you and acts as though you aren’t even here at all.

The only exception during this time is the pilot, Frankie Morales – had Santi called him Fish? He keeps quiet as the others speak, cracking a smile at their comments every now and then, but mostly nursing his beer and awkwardly picking at the label in silence. Every so often, he steals a glance over at you, as if to say, yeah, I know you’re here. His eyes are warm and friendly despite the otherwise utterly unreadable expression planted on his face.

Maybe you’re simply intrigued by the fact that he’s the only one actively acknowledging your presence, or it could be that you’re just rather curious to figure out what his placid expression is hiding. Or perhaps you’re merely a fan of the subtle beauty that his sharp profile paints on the background of the dark, seedy bar. Whatever the reason, you find yourself not just staring but gazing at the man long after he looks away.

“So, shoot me straight,” Will says suddenly, nudging your shoulder and tearing into your thoughts as he turns to face you. Your eyes bounce wildly away from Frankie’s face, a heat creeping up your neck as you light on the patient smile of the man next to you. “That file… it’s your work, right?”

“Hey,” Santiago scoffs from across the table, leaning over to backhand his friend in the chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Will’s face cracks and a deep rumble of a laugh spills out of him as he bites out, “It’s good work. Too good to come from your sorry ass.”

Santi scoffs, his hand flying to his heart with a wounded quality. You simply shrug, small smirk perking your lips as you feel some of the initial tension of the gathering – and the strange concern that you might actually have somehow become invisible – finally start to lift. “He helped,” you say, tone coy.

“Oh, c’mon,” Santiago gripes, giving you a slightly irritated, definitely amused look. “Half that intel came from me. The PNC, Colombian military, they barely even acknowledge you’re there.”

You interrupt with a snort and a scathing, “Yeah… it’s really fucking annoying when people do that,” before choking down the rest of your beer.

If he understands the jibe about your current situation, he doesn’t let on, instead pushing his point that, “None of them would’ve given you jack shit.”

“And the one informant who actually got all this started?” you counter, accusing brow raised high. “Who’s informant was that?”

His face begins to blush, just a bit of redness seeping into his cheeks, as he reaches out to grab your empty bottle. “She was mine in the end,” he mutters, shoving back from the table and rising from his stool. “I’ll get the next round.”

“Yeah,” you call out after him. “You owe me more than just a beer for stealing my CI!”

“I’ll get you a shot too!” he throws over his shoulder, never looking back as he makes his way to the bar.

You turn back to the men surrounding you, each of them now eyeing you warily, and a part of you wants to go back to when they ignored your presence entirely. Tom – what did Santiago call him? Redfly? – is the first to break the awkward silence, ticking his chin in your direction. “So,” he starts before pulling a long breath in through his nose. “DEA.” He overenunciates each letter and states rather than questions your affiliation, despite there being an inquisitive – or is it accusing? – glint to his eye.

“Yeah,” you say with a lingering nod. “Yep. DEA.”

“They teach you about this kind of thing?” Will asks, his drawl deep and languid. You turn to look at him, the imposing man by your side, and feel your shoulders tighten all over again when you see that the stern expression he had worn when first shaking your hand has returned. But then something lightens, the corner of his mouth ticking up just a bit, his gaze softening as your eyes meet. You’re certain that he can sense the rise in tension, understands with just a glimpse of your face that you’re way out of your element here. Intimidated. Nervous. And while the softening of his countenance doesn’t wipe away your anxiety completely, you do at least appreciate the attempt.

Ben, the tall, younger man flanking your other side, must notice the unease building up inside you too. He leans in and bops you with his shoulder, a light, buoyant laugh bursting out of him. “Aw, hell,” he emits breathily. “Leave her alone. If Pope trusts her, she’s got to be good.”

“Not saying she’s not good,” Will intones, shooting you a quick wink that, oddly, really does manage to set you at ease. “Just wondering how much experience she has with ops like this.” His eyes start to sparkle as they lock onto yours once again. “So, sweetheart, you ever pull a recon mission deep in the jungle?”

You offer an evasive shrug and release a tightly held breath. “I got lost in a corn maze once. Had to find my way out on my own. Probably would’ve starved in there if I hadn’t had the presence of mind to bring a funnel cake in with me.”

On your left, Ben snorts out another laugh, and across the table you see Frankie try to maintain that straight, impassive face. But Will’s deadpan expression doesn’t shift in the least. “Well,” he says with a sigh, bringing his nearly empty beer bottle up to his lips. “I guess that is pretty damn close.”

“Ha, ha,” Tom mocks. He waits to go on until you look his way, and once you do he levels you with what can only be described as a fatherly stare – oddly disappointed and imploring, stern and warm all at the same time. “We’re all very glad to hear that you have a sense of humor.”

“Very glad,” Ben interjects with a wide grin.

“But,” he continues, “You’re not gonna go in there and be part of this unless you can convince us that you’re capable.”

Santiago’s voice cuts in then, sounding over the clink of beer bottles as he lays out the next round on the table. “She’s capable,” he states simply before sliding back into his seat next to Frankie. “We’ve been on…” he glances over at you, “how many raids now?”

“At least a dozen,” you answer.

He gives a firm nod and lets his eyes drift between the men at the table. “She’s done good every time. Stays outta the way, does what she’s told.”

Your brow wrinkles and tugs tightly together, deep frown taking over your face. “Jesus, Garcia. I’m not a fucking dog.” He gives a quick laugh, but says nothing, prompting you to defend yourself. “I’ve worked with military advisors for years. Most of my career has been spent working alongside foreign armies and police forces. I’m not just some kind of desk jockey, I promise you that.”

“This is different.” The words flow across the table, the deep rumble sliding just beneath the reverberating bass coming from the jukebox in the corner. You look up and lock onto Frankie’s eyes, note immediately the hesitancy building behind them. He raises his brows as he looks at you, almost into you, and says simply, “This isn’t a raid. This isn’t some amateur hour bullshit put on by the local cops. And you won’t have the military or CNP or the US government at your back if something goes wrong.”

You nod, wanting – for some inexplicable reason – to pull your gaze from him, but finding that you just can’t. “I know. I get that.”

“Do you?”

Santiago gives his friend a little shove, just enough to cause him to look his way, breaking the odd hold he has over you. “She’s a good shot,” he tells him, tells all of them. “And she’s done enough undercover work for me to know that she sure as shit can keep her head.” He looks over at you again – “I still don’t know how you managed to get out of that shit in the comuna last year.” – and then gives a wry little laugh as his head shakes absently.

“Alright,” Tom mutters just as he slams down an empty bottle and reaches over to grab a new one. “She follows orders and keeps her cool… at least we can work with that.”

Benny nudges you with his elbow and when you look up at him you’re met with the widest, sunniest of smiles – never mind the deep split in his lip from the fight that he claims to have won just a few hours prior. “Hear that? That’s just about the best kind of approval you’ll ever get from Redfly.”

“Approval?” Tom shoots across the table. His voice drops an octave as he aims a serious stare over at you. “I’m still not convinced that we can actually trust you.”

“Jesus,” Santi breathes out with an annoyed air. “You really think I’d bring her here… hell, you think I’d have put all this together with her if I didn’t think – know – that she can be trusted?”

He shrugs. “You haven’t really known her that long,” he mutters thickly, his expression slipping back into something wary as he folds his arms across his broad chest and falls into a speculative silence as he mulls over his friend’s words.

You watch him closely, trying to discern what exactly he’s thinking. But long before you’re able to draw any sort of conclusion, Benny bumps you with his shoulder again and says simply, “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. He’s onboard.”

There’s a part of you that balks at the darlin’, just as you had almost called Will out on his use of sweetheart. But the truth is – both times – the names are uttered with a casual, even reassuring, cadence that you’re certain holds no demeaning intent. And you’ve been in enough male-dominated circles over the years to be able to discern at least that much. Even the way Ben’s looking at you now – genuine grin and kind eyes – seems to hold no innuendo. So you let it slide.

“How long did it take him to trust you?” you ask, the tension in your shoulders lifting when a throaty chuckle bubbles out of him.

“Oh, I don’t know that he does. I don’t know if Tom really trusts anyone.”

A snort of a laugh rings from the other end of the table, surprisingly coming from the Doubting Thomas himself. “You’re so full of shit,” he mumbles as he sits back upright and grabs his beer. He takes a giant swig and tacks on for good measure, “Besides, nothing wrong with being… cautious. My being – ”

“A distrustful prick,” Santiago interjects brazenly.

“Whatever you want to call it,” he counters with a faux-saccharine lilt. “It’s saved all your asses more than a time or two. Hasn’t it?”

There’s a quick round of almost wistful snickers from nearly all the men, each seeming to light onto a particular memory, their gazes faltering and ticking briefly off towards nothing. The exception is Frankie, who simply stares down at the battered beer bottle in front of him, sticker half peeled off and clinging to his fingernails as he continues to work at it with a frown. “What about this informant of yours,” he says, low voice slicing into the newfound silence. He shifts nervous eyes over to the man at his right. “You’re sure she can be trusted?”

Without hesitation, Santiago nods. “I’m sure of it. And besides, we’re not basing all of this just on her word. You read the file, right?” He glances over at you and ticks his chin in your direction. “We checked it out. We’ve been out there enough to get a lay of the land. We’ve seen the deliveries of cash coming in… and not going back out.”

Will speaks next, his words soft and slow. “Could all be a setup… a giant, well-planned setup.”

You shake your head. “No. No, it’s legit.” Five sets of eyes turn to you, drilling into you for something more substantial. But the truth is, all that you have is in that file. And, yeah, it could be an elaborate setup. Or – more likely than that – just a really, really bad idea. But your gut says it’s neither. Your gut says that this whole damn thing is the only way to put an end to Lorea’s ever-growing cartel.

Tom’s eyes narrow at you once again, suspicion still lingering in his glare. “How’d this all happen, huh? How’d you even get involved with this… this shit-brain scheme?” he asks before the serious countenance begins to crack and he blows out a harsh chuckle. “How’d Pope sucker you into all this?”

Santiago answers before you get a chance to even open your mouth. “I didn’t sucker anybody into anything. And I don’t use the same callsign down there, so…”

Your eyes flash over to meet his, face splitting into an insolent grin. “Pope…” you mutter, popping the p at the end. “How exactly did you get that name, anyway?”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to know.”

“He spent his first firefight hailing Mary through the coms,” Will chimes in with a teasing lilt. “All damn night.”

“I was nineteen.” He defends… almost whines. “You wanna tell her how you got Ironhead?”

He shrugs and takes another pull of his beer. “I’m not embarrassed.”

Frankie smirks from the other side of the table as he issues out under his breath, “You should be.”

Your eyes bounce eagerly back and forth between the men, silently pleading for someone to tell you the story of Will’s ridiculous moniker. But it seems that you’ve once again gone invisible.

“Hey, he held that record for a solid decade,” Benny mutters beside you. “And I’m pretty sure that dipshit, MacCovey, cheated to take the title.”

“How can you cheat at that?” Frankie asks with an incredulous laugh.

“He cheated.”

“Cheated at what?” you blurt out, eager to just hear the tale. “Ironhead’s a title? With a record? For what?”

Will pivots in his seat, flashing you a smug grin as he rather haughtily announces, “Record for the most concussions sustained during basic training. And no one can take Ironhead away from me… especially not some hardheaded kid from freaking New York.”

“How do you know he was from New York?” Santi asks.

Frankie cocks his head at his friend too. “You met him?”

“Didn’t he die?” Tom interjects, confusion suddenly weaving through the lot of them.

“Did he?” Will asks. “Shit, guess he wasn’t that hardheaded after all.”

Benny leans forward to address them all. “He didn’t die. Just lost a leg. Roadside bomb.”

“Shit,” his brother repeats solemnly.

“Was supposed to be his last tour too. Well, guess it still was.” He looks down for a somber beat before lighting on Frankie. “And I heard that he never actually hit his head when he fell off that tower, so… cheated.”

Throughout all of the back and forth, you just sit, eyes wide, expression both amused and deeply concerned. “Jesus,” you finally breathe out once everyone falls quite. You turn to Will, look a little closer at him as though you might be able to discern some of the damage done so many years ago. “Are you… okay?”

He lets out a hearty laugh and raps his knuckles on his skull. “Nothing to worry about here,” he tells you with a wide smile. “Ironhead, remember?”

Tom snorts and shakes his head skeptically. “Tune’ll change when that CTE shit kicks in… start wandering around the neighborhood, talking to yourself, picking fights with people in grocery stores.” He stops short and flashes a shit-eating grin. “Oh wait…”

The joke – if there even really is one – is lost on you. But Will must get it, because his face flashes in irritation, a mere, “Very funny,” falling from his lips as he brings his beer bottle up to meet them.

You let out a sigh – “I’m confused.” – and choose to ignore Tom in favor of getting more of the story from Ironhead himself. “Did you get concussions on purpose? Why does this seem to be some kind of source of pride?”

“It wasn’t on purpose…”

“What about that full can of soup you tried to crush on your head?” Frankie interjects with a raised brow.

“Yeah, alright, there was that one,” he concedes.

Your forehead furrows deeper. “If you were always getting hurt, why didn’t they call you something like, Falls-a-Lot or Unlucky Charms or just Blockhead?”

He stares at you for a long moment, face hardening into a stoic set. “Wasn’t Tom asking how you got yourself into all this? Wasn’t that what we were talking about?”

You offer a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t think we were really talking about it…”

“She basically started it,” Santiago states simply. “I mean, I was in the minute she brought it up, completely in. But it was her shit-brained scheme from the get-go.”

“Really?” Tom smarts, skeptical look once again riding his face as he takes a pull from his beer.

“Look,” you begin, tone painfully sincere, “I’ve been on the losing end of this battle for years. And the people down there, the families… the kids he recruits…” You stop for a beat and slowly, bitterly shake your head. “Lorea, and all the others like him… It’s their turn to lose.”

Tom nods, his gaze never breaking from yours. “You do realize you sound just like him,” he mutters, ticking his chin towards Santi. “Seriously,” he begins, stare serious, but tone glib. “Did you two hatch this crazy little plan together in bed?”

You glance over at Garcia, quickly taking note of the burning blush creeping up his neck as he hides beneath his baseball cap and tries not to laugh. Then, on their way back to Tom, your eyes light on Frankie. He too is ducking his head. But he doesn’t seem to be laughing like the others. Rather, from what you can make out beneath the shadow of his hat, he looks… embarrassed. No. Dejected.

Your heart skips a beat and you blurt out suddenly, “We’re not sleeping together,” a little too loudly to come across as anything other than agonizingly defensive. The laughter intensifies and you clear your throat before going on to say, “Garcia’s usually too busy fucking his informants to ever even think of giving me the time of day.”

Benny just about loses it, his body pulsating with fits of giggles as he leans back a bit and reaches out to give you a high five. You oblige, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you see Santiago shift across from you. He peers at you from beneath the ballcap, eyes dark and smile wide as he says, voice deep and honeyed, “Oh, bonita, trust me, I’ve thought about it.”

You roll your eyes and tip back the nearly empty bottle to your lips, draining the last dregs of your beer before rising and stating, “I’ll get the next round… as long you guys promise to do nothing but regale me with embarrassing stories about Pope for the rest of the night.”

000

Jetlag. It’s something you’ve experienced countless times over the years, hopping from place to place, office to outpost to field. And yet you’ve never really managed to get used to it, the bone-deep fatigue kicking your ass after each and every trip you’ve ever taken. A full day of travel, and now a full night of drinking, and by the time the lot of you stumble out of the bar, you’re barely able to put one foot in front of the other.

“Lightweight, huh?” Benny jokes as he pushes past you on the way to his car.

You grumble under your breath, something akin to, shut the fuck up, though your words aren’t all that put together right now either. But Ben doesn’t hear any of it anyway, he’s already giving his brother an unforgiving shove in the nearly empty parking lot and laughing maniacally as he dodges the lazy retaliatory punch.

“Don’t mind him,” Frankie mutters from behind you. You stop and turn, squinting through the harsh halogen light piercing your eyes as you look up at him. He notices the pained grimace you give and lets out a light chuckle as he takes your elbow and swings you back around to lead you to the car. “You seem more tired than drunk to me,” he says with a lilt as he easily slips his arm beneath yours for a little extra support.

Without thinking, you let your head tip to the side and rest on his shoulder. “Soooo tired,” you bemoan. A deep rumble of a laugh pulls from Frankie’s chest, reverberates up and through his entire body so that you feel it vibrate into you. It makes you smile. It makes you tuck yourself in a little closer. You stumble a bit, your toe catching on a crack in the pavement, and before you can even think to right yourself, his arm pulls away and reaches around, the warmth of his hand splaying across your hip as he steadies you. “Maybe a little drunk too,” you admit with a sigh.

If he thinks it’s odd that you’ve burrowed so close to him, or if he’s the least bit uncomfortable with your fingers now clinging to the back of his shirt, or if he’s irritated at having to slow to a crawl to help you to Santiago’s car, he doesn’t show it. Instead he easily slows his pace to match yours, giving your hip a little squeeze as he says, “Hey, sorry about earlier.”

Your shuffling stops as you pull back to look up at him with a confused frown. “You mean telling that story about Santiago’s ex? I don’t think I’m the one… to apologize…” Your brow furrows even deeper as you try to sift through what you just said, trying to determine if it makes any sense.

He lets out another low laugh, the sound quickly becoming a new favorite tune. “No. I mean about…” He hesitates for a moment, the smile slowly melting from his face. “When I was… questioning you. Whether or not you’re up for this. And, you know, whether or not you’re getting played.”

“Oh,” you bark out, far louder than intended. “Yeah, no.” You wave it off and waste no time at all – fatigue and alcohol both wiping away any embarrassment you might otherwise feel at plastering yourself up against a near stranger – falling back into him.

He chuckles again as he hikes you a bit higher and leads you over to the tiny blue rental car in the corner of the lot. “It’s just… I know you put a lot of work into gathering the intel. And I know this is… important to you. Or you wouldn’t be here. But still…”

You turn your face into his shoulder, his chest, unabashedly breathing in the musky scent from the collar of his jacket as you mumble into him, “I promise not to fuck it up. At least not too bad.”

“Hey!” Garcia calls out from the car, swinging the back door open as you two approach. “You getting handsy with my girl?”

Frankie snorts out a laugh, incredulous, almost sardonic, and not nearly as endearing as the ones that have been rumbling into you for the last however many glorious minutes it’s been. “Not your girl,” you mutter blandly. “Too risky… too many possible diseases.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans, standing back as Frankie helps you into the car, his palm pressing gently on the back of your head to make sure you duck inside safely. “She took like five Xanax on the flight in,” he tells his friend with a snicker. “Probably shouldn’t have let her drink so much on top of that.”

“Hate flying,” you breathe out as you settle back, harshly tugging at the seatbelt to your left.

Frankie shakes his head in amusement as he watches you grow increasingly frustrated with the non-cooperative seatbelt. “How can you hate flying?” he asks, crooked smile stretching across his face.

You stop the infernal struggle and collapse back into the seat, “Fucking hate it,” coming out of you in a petulant whine.

“Alright,” he murmurs amid a snicker as he leans into the car, easily tugging the seatbelt out and reaching around to buckle you in. Your eyes droop further, slipping closed as he pulls back out of the car, fading into the night. “You guys good?” you hear him ask, the deep tenor of his voice sounding even more melodic when penetrating the dark.

“Yeah,” Santiago tells him, fatigue drowning just that single word. “We’re over at the Motor Inn. Just a few miles up. Listen, Frankie… thanks for this. Really. This…” You almost open your eyes again, want to just to see if the expression on Garcia’s face matches the earnestness in his tone. “This isn’t just a standard op, you know. To me. To her. This is… just… thanks.”

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “Well, uh… I’ll see you Thursday.”

The only other sounds you hear before slipping away entirely are the door gently closing beside you, the engine starting up in a soft roar, and Santiago muttering, seemingly to himself from the front seat, “I am not carrying your ass to bed.”

Taglist: 

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44

[atsukashii]

➛ FINDING MINETA MESSING WITH THEIR S/O 

CHARACTERS: katsuki + shoto + izuku + hitoshi +

REQUEST:  » Anonymous said: hiii 💕💕 i haven’t seen this before but could you maybe write bakugou, todoroki, midoriya and shinso reacting to mineta messing with their s/o :) thank youuu

➛ Ever since you had started dating Bakugou, Mineta had mostly stopped any comments about you, fearing the explosive blonde would kill him. And there have been many times where Katsuki almost has, and this was definitely one of those times

All of your class is at the pool, enjoying taking a breather from hero work and just relaxing. It’s towards the end of your school term, and you’ve got a week to study before your final exams, but with the crazy year, you all managed to convince Mr. Aizawa to give you all permission to use the pool to relax

The girls had convinced you to wear a bikini, one that you knew would get a reaction out of your boyfriend, and it did. He had two immediate reactions. The first was he blushed… a lot… then the second he tried to shove his shirt over your shoulders, trying to hide you from people. He got over that mighty quick when you and Kirishima began comparing the sizes of your biceps. He could deal with this and behave himself for ones

The boys are sitting around the pool chatting as you girls all play volleyball in the water. Someone mentions a race but you aren’t paying attention to their conversation. The second you had tried to drool over your topless boyfriend, you had received a volleyball to the face. Lesson learnt. Play now, stare at Katsuki later.

You’re all having fun until your two friends Kirishima and Kaminari bomb dive next yo you right as you go to hit the ball. A massive wave pushes you under for a second and you feel a snap. Holy fuck your top just broke. In the current created, you feel it move from your body and you squawk loudly. Mina and the other girls notice immediately and dive towards you, creating a barrier. Tsu immediately goes under, trying to locate the lost item of clothing

The boys turn around quickly hands over there eyes to give you privacy and from the sudden bark from your very pissed off boyfriend, who notices your panic and mortification and dives in to the pool immediately with his t-shirt in hand. Once he reaches you, he helps you put it over your head - grateful that Bakugou has a thing for black clothing.

 “Where the fuck is your top?”

“I don’t know!!!” You’re almost in tears until there’s a loud “DUDE WTF!?” and your eyes follow Kaminari’s gaze until they land on Mineta on the other side of the pool. Your blue bikini top in his hand and a blissfully disgusting smile on his face.

Katsuki doesn’t even hesitate. “I’m going to blast your ass to hell you fucking extra!” he shouts jumping out of the pool and using his quirk to propel him forwards. 

and that was the day that you almost witnessed your boyfriend commit murder.

➛ Shoto may just be the deadliest out of them all... and hear me out. No one really questioned it when you began to wear baggier clothes around the dorms.  It wasn’t as if you wore tight clothes before, but now, all your clothes dwarfed your figure. A figure that a little purple asshole liked to talk about too much.

It had started after you had been on your way to class. You were walking in to your classroom when you heard Mineta’s voice. “I mean, Mina is maybe a seven, but y/n’s an absolute ten. She’s got perky tits and a great ass. Easy ten.” You had never felt more objectified in your entire life then at that point of time.

From that point on, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You became somewhat paranoid when you were around Mineta, which then changed to a lot of people. Were they looking at you? Were your boobs really perky… you thought they were too small… surely everyone thinks that too… right??

It became almost a vicious cycle of paranoia that then led to you wearing baggy clothes. If they couldn’t see your figure, they would’t care. Logic… right?

Your boyfriend however noticed the second you had decided to wear one of his shirts down to the common room. He didn’t mind, thinking you look much better in his clothes then he does, but he knows that somethings up.

Shouto knows you and knows to give you some space to sort it out on your own, knowing about your insecurities already, so he lets it go. But then that day becomes a week, and one week becomes two, and suddenly he can’t stand it. You look terrified all the time, you’re jumpy and he’s heard you crying in your room on multiple occasions.

You’re sitting at your desk, dwarfed in one of Shouto’s sweaters and some sweatpants when he comes in, leaning down over a textbook. You hear him come in, and turn so fast you almost fall off your chair in surprise from the sudden entrance. Once you notice it's him, you relax slightly.

“Hey, what’s up?” You try to say lightly, but he’s not buying it. Shouto walks over to you and squats down in front of your chair.

“What’s going on Y/n?” that’s all it takes before you break down. Your sobbing into your hands and your boyfriend pulls you close to your chest before brushing your head softly. He listens to you explain what happened, where your head is at, and just what you have been feeling. When you’re done, he tilts your head to look up at him and he gently kisses your forehead.

“Please tell me the next time he does this Y/n. No man or woman deserves to be objectified like that. Especially you. You are one of the most incredible and intelligent people I know.” You promise to tell him next time, and you leave it at that

The next day, you feel confident enough by Shouto’s words to wear your regular clothes, but you’re keeping the ones of his you stole because hello, they’re comfy as heck.

You walk into the classroom to see Mineta frozen to his chair, and no one is surprised by that. Shouto just shrugs when you look at him. 

➛ Mineta messing with the girls in your class was nothing new, and normally everyone (especially the guys) was really good at stopping him from taking it too far. and not going to lie here, dating Izuku had stopped him from messing with you a fair amount because although your boyfriend was happy and smiling a lot of the time,  he was a weapon when pissed off, and nothing made him more fucking mad then you being messed with as he had been bullied as a kid - and just because he had fucking manners. 

so one day, Mineta goes there and oh boy. Izuku’s not there when it happens thank god because you would have been a witness to murder if he had

you’re in the common room, sitting with Ochako and Tenya attempting to study. You and Ochako happily took the offer to get tutoring from your friend because he was really damn smart and you guys weren’t dumb, just not as smart as he was. You are sitting on the floor still in your school uniform when Ochako asks a question, so you get on your knees and reach across the table pointing something out to her, the one thing Iida explained that you actually get.

You think you hear something, but brush it off until there’s a familiar mumble that has chills -and not the good kind- going up your spine. Instinctively, you pull your skirt further down over your ass just in case but it’s too late. You turn around and see Mineta, standing there with his phone, a blissful smile on his mouth and drool almost coming out of his mouth. 

You stare at him, flushed with embarrassment and mortification before the other two with you catch on.

“Mineta...did you just” Ochako frowns before shaking her head, steam practically coming out of her ears.

“Mineta! That is absolutely not appropriate and a major invasion of privacy. I ask that you delete it right now, or I will have to go to Mr. Aizawa.” Iida says, standing from his spot before the little purple-headed asshole clutches his phone to his chest.

“Not a chance, this is a money shot!” His words make you want to puke. You’re so mad and embarrassed that it makes you almost begin to cry with frustration. You go to open your mouth when your boyfriend walks through the doorway, dressed in workout gear, and you know that he had been training with All Might again. 

“Hey guys,” Izuku says smiling before he sees your face and the tense room. His eyes study you for a second before looking at Mineta. “What happened?” Mineta clutches his phone tighter to his chest and utters out something intangible before trying to make a break for the stairs. You have tears in your eyes and that’s Izuku’s last straw. Green lightning zaps to life on his body and using his quirk, he propels himself forward in front of Mineta and grabs the phone from him. He sees the picture on the screen and there’s a quiet crack. He glares at Mineta, something that looks so dangerous it gives you chills again and the phone crumples in his hand. 

“If you take a picture like that again without someone’s permission, I’ll make this look like nothing.” he threatens, and you gulp as he hands Mineta back his now broken phone, and the boy sprints from the room. Walking back to you, Izuku pulls you into him and places a kiss on your head. And instantly you feel better

“I’m so sorry he did that y/n, I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again.” And Mineta never does. 

➛ Normally, you would spend your lunches in the cafeteria with your boyfriend Hitoshi, talking about anything and everything, but today, you can’t seem to bring yourself to walk through the doors

Not even twenty minutes ago, you had been in class training when you were thrown by your sparing partner - accidentally - into the wall where you had landed on a certain purple haired creep. Normally you were pretty good at ignoring his comments about your body, but if was one thing to talk about them, and another to physically grab them. Because that was what Mineta had done to you when you had the misfortune of landing on him. 

You were speechless, and utterly ashamed of what had happened. He had freaked you out so much you felt yourself retreating back inside your head as the day went on. You hated it, but couldn’t help it.

You felt so violated... someone had touched you inappropriately, and someone that wasn’t even your boyfriend... oh my god shinsou... Oh my god does that classify as cheating?

You quickly run from the door of the cafeteria, unable to face your boyfriend. Unknownst to you at the time, your said boyfriend was watching you from inside the crowded room, and quickly excused himself when he saw your hurrried escape. He finds you outside, sitting under the shade of a tree, your knees to your chest and your head in the crook of your elbow. 

“y/n?” you look up at his voice, and just burst into tears. You can’t seem to stop them as he sits down next to you and pulls you onto his lap, holding your head into his neck. “Hey, it’s okay. Tell me whats wrong.” and you do. You tell him about everything that had happened today, and you felt the rage settle into him. His muscles tensed beneath you, and his breathing became sharp.

“He touched you?!” He  pulls back enough to look back at you. You had stopped crying, and were just resting limply against him. 

“Yeah, it kind of freaked me out...” you whisper, and he lets out a choked noise.

“Of course it did! It’s so wrong y/n!” So he had just sat there the entire lunch with you, not caring for his food, holding you close and telling you anything that came to his mind to make you feel better. And it worked. By the time you had returned to class (where Shinsou had walked you to the door) you felt somewhat ready to face the world again.

It however wasn’t until the next day that everyone discovers the repercussions of messing with you. You and your classmates where on their way to class when you hear a loud wailing, and you find Aizawa standing at the bottom of light post, where... mineta, of all people, is handing by his undies. He’s crying out in pain, tears in his eyes, and you all just stand there shocked. He obviously used his quirk to get himself up there, and you cant help but feel some sort of gratification at the sight. 

©️ 2021 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

[secretpajamas]

a different kind of rush;

an Ezra x reader fic

pairing: ezra (prospect) x female reader

rating: explicit

genre: romance/smut/and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

words: 2.7k

part 1 of 2

please scroll to the end to “content” if you would like to know specific smut-related content before reading!

---

Ever since the rush ended, mining work was somewhat scarce. Most aurelac miners—the ones who didn’t strike it rich, had already squandered away their profits, or ones that worked under flat-rate contract and not profit-share—had been swept up by the large-scale mining companies at the Ephrate.

You, unfortunately, had a falling-out with the head of your crew shortly before the end of the rush, and you were left out in the cold with little more than the clothes on your back and the helmet on your head. 

Now you operated alone, picking up what seasonal jobs you could. The ones that payed more tended to be more dangerous—you had a good sense as to which jobs would require you to stash extra knives on your person and demand your own private tent. That demand would often eat into your wages, but it was worth the peace of mind.

You were coming up on the last of your income from last season, which is how you found yourself scouting shuttle stations for work. Most of the bulletins at the larger stations were already picked clean. Now, at one of the smallest stations in the Reach, you hoped against hope you’d find a decent job posting.

Mostly scrap haul jobs—one odd request for a live-in massage therapist, and you knew what that was code for—but when you were about to give up and move on, one last blip on the readout screen caught your eye.

seeking experienced miner for short-term contract work (one season). small-scale operation, compensation negotiable. food and board included. helmet must be supplied by employee, O2 freely available. radio callsign alpha-echo-six, will be monitoring channel 07:00 – 23:00 universal time.

It was contract work, not profit-share, but what the hell. It was the best you had come across in your search so far and you doubted you’d find anything better. Checking the screen, you noted it was nearly 23:00—but you pulled out your radio, entered the posted callsign, and gave it a shot.

“This is radio callsign alpha-sierra-two, inquiring about job posting on shuttle station R-Twelve,” you said into your device. “Is the position still open?”

You waited for a minute in dead silence before you heard the line crackle to life. “Hello, alpha-sierra-two,” a thick drawl replied. “Long as you can hold a pickaxe steady, the job’s as good as yours.”

---

When you met him, the first thing you noticed was the shock of blonde hair. Nobody out in the Reaches had much use for cosmetic hair products, so it must have been a natural occurrence of some sort. It struck you as profoundly odd—but also incredibly attractive. You took a deep breath and swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat.

The second thing you noticed—well. It was a little hard to miss.

“Name’s Ezra,” he said with a sly smile, extending his left—and only—hand.

You weren’t sure which hand you were supposed to shake his with. You decided on your left, to match his. It took some fumbling, but you managed a firm shake in the end. You introduced yourself and then let your hands drop.

“Sorry if that was weird,” you said, “I’m not used to shaking hands with my left.”

Ezra chuckled darkly. “Me neither, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Normally, you’d hate hearing that come from a man you’d just met. It would’ve felt like a belittlement. But not with this man—it just seemed to roll off his tongue without a second thought.

Then, you realized the implication of his statement. If he wasn’t used to shaking with his left, the loss of his right arm must not have been too long ago. In this line of work, any number of horrors could have caused it. You decided it was best not to dwell on the subject.

“Allow me to escort you to your quarters,” Ezra said, gesturing for you to follow.

He brought you to the only man-made structure within sight. He must have built it himself. He zipped the entryway door shut and clumsily removed his helmet with one hand. You swiftly removed yours, glad to get the sweaty thing off of you for the first time in hours.

The tent was sturdy and spacious enough to feel a little less like a hovel and a little more like a home. It was certainly nicer than most accommodations you’d been given on mining contract work before. There were two beds—well, just cushioned mats on the floor, but definitely an upgrade from a cot—separated by makeshift room divider in the form of a bedsheet tied between two of the tent supports.

“I can fashion a proper partition if you’d prefer,” he said, “the kid was prone to nightmares is all. Didn’t like feelin’ shut off. Took that tent wall down the next day, put the sheet up instead.”

“Kid?” You prompted.

“She’s livin’ in the Ephrate this season,” he said. “Got a scholarship to that fancy Academy an’ everything. Awful proud of her.” You could hear the fondness in his voice.

“That’s nice,” you said,  “she must have a good father.”

Ezra chuckled, the sound tinged with something bitter. “Unfortunately, I do not hold such a grand title,” he said. “Her parents are deceased. I am but her guardian.”

Oh.

“Well, get yourself settled and join me outside when you’re ready,” he said as he went to retrieve his helmet. “It’s not as complicated as aurelac, but it’s still a bitch to mine.”

---

After just a few days of harvesting starstone, you were inclined to agree with Ezra’s statement. It was an absolute bitch. If you so much as tapped it at the wrong angle it would completely lose its integrity. Then, as soon at was harvested, it had to be soaked in a complicated solution of enzymes so it would retain its color—if you waited too long to get it in the enzyme bath, it would turn pale and lose its shimmer. How the hell anyone managed to transport it without massive damages, you had no idea.

You voiced this to him. He simply shrugged. “Not my problem,” he said. “The buyer is arrangin’ her own transport. We just have to hand it off.”

“What is this stuff good for, anyway?” You asked.

“It’s pretty,” he said, “and if there’s one thing I’ve become privy to in all my years of prospectin’, it’s that all sorts of folk will pay a pretty penny for pretty things. ’Specially if those things are rare.”

“There’s no accounting for taste, I guess,” you mumbled, looking at the bright green and orange whorls of glittery stone around the two of you. Ezra snickered at your comment, and the sound of the raspy, almost boyish laughter made your stomach do somersaults.

“I can assume you have no such affinity for pretty things, then,” he said with a grin.

“Well,” you started, looking into those pretty brown eyes of his, “now and I again I might.”

Ezra just arched an eyebrow before returning to sifting through rock.

---

You and Ezra fell into an easy rhythm. He would wake up early to prepare the enzyme solutions for the day’s mining. You both mined as long as it stayed light out, going back into the tent as needed for a ration bar or a toilet break or just to rest your weary head for a minute. After dark, it was your responsibility to prep the filters and O2 tanks. As days turned into weeks, you found yourself finally adjusting to the man’s odd manner of speech, and even found yourself laughing at his dry wit.

And if you were honest with yourself, you were harboring quite the crush.

But this was job, damnit, and even if it wasn’t profit-share, Ezra payed far more than any other boss you’d had for contract work. You weren’t going to compromise that. A sexual relationship with someone who was technically your superior was never a good idea—you didn’t want to get yourself kicked off this planet without a full season’s pay.

This dwarf planet’s climate wasn’t as harsh and unforgiving as the Green. The air wasn’t breathable, which is why oxygen tanks and helmets were necessary, but there was nothing like the deadly moon’s dust you remember from the rush days. The one complaint you had: the weather was always hot, some days painfully so, and today was one of those days. You had both decided to cut the workday short and stumbled back to the tent, sweaty and exhausted.

You wrenched your helmet off of your head and immediately planted yourself in front of one of the air circulators. You heard Ezra’s helmet fall to the floor with a clank and several frustrated grunts as he began to unzip his suit. You knew by now not to offer help—even though it took him a long time to dress and undress, it seemed to be a point of pride to him that he do it himself.

You shucked off your own suit, leaving yourself standing in a sleeveless top and shorts. Cooler now, but still utterly worn-out, you all but flung yourself on your cot. You rucked up your shirt so you left as much of your skin exposed to the air as possible without stripping down to your underwear.  “Too fucking hot,” you grumbled.

“Preachin’ to the choir, birdie,” Ezra replied, finally kicking his suit off and out of the way. “Pardon my selfishness, but I’m inclined to take the first shower.”

You groaned, but you had taken the first shower yesterday, so you didn’t protest. Ezra took long showers—you guessed it was because of his arm situation—so you’d have to wait to get all the sweat and grime off. But hey—at least you had a shower. In some of your past gigs you had to wipe yourself down from head to toe with a wet rag.

The shower was attached to the main tent on the east-facing wall: your side of the sheet. Ezra walked by you to access it—he was shirtless, clad only in the pair of black compression pants he wore under his suit. You couldn’t help but sneak a look at him from where you lay—you had come to appreciate the broad expanse of his back and shoulders, his skin kissed all over with fading white scars, the little paunch of his stomach, and the dusting of dark hair that began below his bellybutton and traveled down beneath his waistband. He sighed and stretched before unzipping the partition and shuffling tiredly to the shower.

Seeing him half-naked had lit a spark in your belly. You swallowed thickly, your mind trailing into territory you usually reserved for late at night when Ezra was asleep. Yes, you were attracted to him—but it was more than just a baser instinct. Whenever you got yourself off in the past—or gotten someone else off—it had been quick and quiet and easily forgotten, something to take the edge off, to scratch an itch. You never really fantasized about romance or, Kevva forbid, love, but the longer you spent with Ezra, the more you caught yourself wondering what he would be like as a lover—if he’d hold you gently against his chest after, if he’d press a soft kiss to your forehead, if he’d tell you that you were beautiful.

You scoffed at yourself. Fantasies like that were for naive girls, not for a grown woman, especially not a world-weary miner who knew that men in the Reaches weren’t like that.

But maybe Ezra was different. He was already far different than any man you had ever met.

And maybe you could allow yourself the fantasy.

As you listened to the hum of the shower running, confident in your assertion that Ezra wouldn’t be out for some time—you snaked one hand down under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, rubbing at yourself in the way you usually did—in the way that would make you orgasm quickly. If you drew things out, that just gave your brain time to strike up ridiculous fantasies of Ezra making love to you.

Making love. There you go again. Why can’t you just call it fucking? But what you were thinking of wasn’t fucking—would he gaze into your eyes as he filled you? Would he whisper to you how good you felt, call you sweetheart like he did the first day you met—and nearly every day since?

Damn it, you said you wouldn’t think about it, but here you were. You rubbed yourself faster, just hoping to get this over with and move the fuck on—

“Shower’s all yours,” you heard Ezra’s voice ring out, and you froze. You didn’t breathe, didn’t move a muscle. How had you not heard the water turn off? How long were you daydreaming?

There was no way Ezra didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t even have the plausible deniability of having a blanket over you. You were so fucked.

You moved your head a tiny fraction to look at Ezra. He had a threadbare towel around his waist, precariously held by a twist-and-tuck at his hip. He was staring at you, wide-eyed and stock-still, as droplets dripped down his forehead from his still-wet hair. You weren’t sure he was even breathing.

Neither of you moved.

Then, Ezra licked his lips, flicking his eyes from your face down to where your hand was still stuck in your shorts, then back to your eyes again. Slowly, deliberately. He quirked an eyebrow at you.

You hitched your hips up a little under his gaze, almost involuntarily. He watched the movement with intensity.

Fuck. Was this really happening?

Ezra brought his hand up to his mouth, rubbing at his lower lip with his thumb. He looked to where your hand was trapped between your legs, and gestured with a nod.

With your heartbeat hammering against your chest, you began to move your hand again, eyes locked on Ezra. His breath hitched as he watched you touch yourself, his eyes intent on your body, pupils blown wide and dark.

You rubbed at your clit, your legs tensing as you brought your hips up to press into your hand. Unable to help it, a moan escaped your throat, and Ezra answered back with a low hum of his own.

Hearing him respond to you made your body light up like lightning. You closed your eyes and sucked in frantic bursts of air. The oppressive heat around you was unbearable, the pressure building in your core even more so. Your pulse roared against your eardrums as you frantically worked at your clit, almost sore now, needing to come now more than ever, needing that release—

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Ezra said, and the sound of his voice had you coming hard, thighs shaking. You chased your high as long as you could, clit nearly rubbed raw, until you winced at the overstimulation, dropping your hips back to the bed and letting out a heaving sigh. Almost in a daze, you opened your eyes, chancing a glance at Ezra. He was staring down at you as if he’d seen Kevva’s gates open up before him. He was also visibly tenting his towel, holding onto where it was tied at his hip in a vise-like grip.

“I’m,” you started, catching your breath, “I could use a shower now.”

“As very well could I,” Ezra replied as he shifted his weight back and forth, voice strained, “an’ a cold one at that. But I’d be remiss to waste the water.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. About the shower or the impromptu peepshow, you weren’t sure.

“Quite alright. But don’t be alarmed if you emerge to find me in a similar position when you’re done in there,” he remarked, gesturing to the shower with a jerk of his head.

You planted your face in your pillow, mortified beyond belief, hot shame washing over you. Ezra simply chuckled.

“No reason to be embarrassed, sweetheart,” he said. “Close quarters make for... sticky situations such as these.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you stood up, walking past Ezra to make your way to the shower.

What the fuck just happened?

---

a/n: this was supposed to be a quick smutty oneshot (oops) but it was getting long so I’ve split it into two parts! Part two should be out by the end of this week.

content: masturbation, voyeurism (but is it voyeurism if both parties are aware of the voyeur-ing?)

READ PART 2 HERE

[addystuffs]

ok im gonna take a crack at this (keep in mind i am not an expert on any of this, so take this with a grain of salt) *deep inhale* so before we get that scene with the shot pictured, we get donnie and mikey standing before the goopy glop of the technodromes control panel. and we can see the moment donnie and mikey realize that these are the controls, and thanks to the extreme facial expressions rise gives us, we can see just how utterly disgusted they both are by this. and yet, donnie knows he has to do this. i also find it interesting that he doesnt even try to convince mikey to do it, possibly because somewhere within him, he still wanted to fly a spaceship, or because leo specifically delegated that to him, but i think i could be because even if he was incredibly disgusted by it, he wanted to spare mikey of that. when he thrusts his hands into it, we can see and hear the sickening squish of the goop. and if that wasnt terrifying enough, it snakes up his arms, pulsating and dripping with ooey gooey disgustingness. we then get a brief scene of raph and leo, and when we return, we can see and hear how much this is straining donnie, just him resisting the urge to pull away. its completely covered his arms by now, and even in wider shots, we can still see it wriggling. we see donnies expression shift as he sees that the goop wont reach past his shoulders, as he realizes what he needs to do. "Mikey, take off my battle shell." mikey hesitates, but when the kraang that they previously knocked out starts to stir, mikey hits the release, and we can see with his facial expressions that hes incredibly worried for donnie. donnie turns around, and we get an incredible shot of him doing a sort of "trust fall" into the goop, and as this is happening the music shifts to really amplify the intensity of the situation. when the gooey tendrils reach his shell, they appear to penetrate the skin, (is his shell classified as skin???) and we see him physically shake and squeak with uncomfortability out of reflex. we then get this fucking incredible shot:

...before he gets sucked down into the panel, below the goop.

a literal shriek is heard when that happens, like the ones that the kraangs/kraangifed people make. the trapped kraang suddenly springs forth, going to attack mikey, before getting swatted away and pinned to the wall with kraang vines. this was donnies first act, and this happened even before his head appeared above mikey. and he literally says "i am a spaceship" not "im flying a spaceship", no. he is the spaceship. we then get another part of the leo/raph fight. this time, its cut off by kraang prime noticing that the ship is being piloted back into the portal. this makes him open up the floor to make a direct line of sight to the control room. this is when the shot from op happens. we can see that donnie has been almost cocooned by this stuff. it almost seems to hold him up like a puppet. the kraangs black goop tentacles wrap around him and pull him out violently, and they have to tug at him a few times to get him free.

then we have this. the moment he snaps loose. we can hear a sickening snapping sound. his body is limp, indicating his consciousness is still connected to the ship. we then see his face that was on the ship melt away with sickening detail. he is then suspended by that goop, that goop that is full of eyes and teeth, in a very uncomfortable position.

im no expert, but im pretty sure having your arms bent like that cant feel good. and on top of that, his soft shell is fully exposed, which cannot feel good either. and the cherry on top is that the physical damage from this is dwarfed in comparison to the mental damage this must have caused. this would be a very traumatic event for anyone, but with donnies autism and sensory issues, its made 10 time worse. ive seen a lot of fan comics and fics about him having phantom pains on his softshell, having nightmares about the kraang, or even feel like its talking to him because again, he was their ship. and aside from raph, he probably had the most direct connection to the kraang.

phew, i think thats everything *drops this and then scurries away into the rafters to watch people explode*

Something about this shot just… evokes feelings in me.

[ladylouoflothlorien]

Sleeping Desires - Part 1

Bofur x Female Reader Word count: 2018 WARNING: This fic will contain mature themes, absolutely do not read this if you are underage, thank you. (18+ only) Summary: This was affectionately titled “Bofur LEMONS for LUNA???” in my google drive, and I think that’s all you need to understand this. It was born from the idea of Bofur having a crush on (read: utterly all-consuming devotion for) the reader, but thinking that it was unreciprocated until he overhears her having a rather explicit dream. This fic will be a multi-part, potentially 2 but most likely 3, so stay tuned.  Additionally, I have turned this into a game of ‘how many euphemisms can I come up with for dwarves?’ This part contains 5, and I’m pretty proud of that.

Bofur settled down with his pipe, back against a tree, as he prepared himself for the long and lonely dark of the middle shift of the night watch. For the earlier shifts, it would not be wholly unusual for other members of the company to still be awake, but by the middle shift the only person not asleep would be the one on watch. That was not to say that Bofur didn’t welcome the solitude. It was true that he was generally a far more outgoing and jovial dwarf than the rest of the motley crew of companions he found himself travelling with, and it was also true that he generally preferred not to be by himself, but there was another truth that he had come to find in recent months; some things are far easier to indulge in when there are no prying eyes to catch you at it.

Now, the particular indulgence that had led to this realisation was not at all a shameful one - leastways not in his estimation of the word - but he had his own reasoning for wanting it to be private all the same.

Bofur took a long drag of his pipe and slowly exhaled the smoke, watching the grey tendrils climb higher and higher before disappearing altogether, and then he finally turned his gaze to the human woman curled up in her bedroll beside him. It was sweet, he thought, how she seemed to have this habit of making herself smaller as she slept, tucking her legs up until the lump created by her sleeping form appeared not all that dissimilar in size to a dwarrowdam. Most dwarrow he knew tended to stretch themselves out when they slept, making themselves look as big as possible. The dwarf thought back as he had done many times to the moment Gandalf had introduced the woman to their company, claiming she’d been sent by the grace of the Valar from another world to assist them in their quest. Gandalf had not specified which of the Valar had been involved in that decision, though if Bofur had to hazard a guess, he’d say it was most likely Mahal scheming to get one of his own married off, for Durin himself knew Bofur would wife her if he had the chance.

But Bofur did not think he would. He knew his own merits as a Dwarf to be sure, and he knew he was a long way off unattractive - both in his looks and his merry personality - but he also knew that he was judging himself on the standards of his own kind. He had no idea what would or would not be appealing to a human woman.

His infatuation for the woman was the source of his new indulgence, which was essentially to gaze upon her most comely form as much as was dwarvenly possible. His desire to keep this indulgence a secret came from his belief that she very likely did not feel the same. As long as none of the other dwarves picked up on what he was doing, he could avoid both the embarrassment she would feel at having to - no doubt - politely but firmly decline his interest and the humiliation that would follow for himself at being rejected in a place where he would be stuck without a place to hide and lick his metaphorical wounds.  

Tonight he had placed his bedroll beside hers - though at a respectable distance apart - and he had set up for watch against the tree that brought him still closer to her. He did not do this as often as he would like, for he was incredibly conscious that if he did so it would be noticed by at least one other member of the company. What would then follow would be relentless teasing, and then no doubt his secret would be outed to all. No, Bofur was very content to merely snatch the few precious moments he could to gaze upon the woman in complete secrecy and thereby forego the risk of discovery.

Bofur was torn from his current line of thought by a quiet groan, and after a moment he realised it had come from the very woman occupying the entirety of the free space in his brain. The dwarf frowned. Was she in pain? Was she having a nightmare? Normally she was very quiet when she slept, turning or shifting her position maybe once or twice throughout the night. It was a stark contrast from the dwarves who kicked and flailed and snored loud enough to rattle the tiles off a roof - that is, if there was a roof over their heads, which more often than not on the journey there hadn’t been. The woman rolled over onto her back, and only then did Bofur notice the flush on her cheeks and the furrow between her brows. He felt a cold pit in his stomach, naturally assuming that she had caught a fever, but then her fingers loosely fisted the thin fabric of her blanket and her plump lips parted to let out a quiet but distinct moan. Bofur froze. Or at least, most of him did. Beneath the fabric of his breeches, his treacherous Dwarven steel twitched slightly. The dwarf swallowed and tried not to think on it, forcing his body to relax somewhat and pretend he hadn’t heard anything. The lass was sleeping, and the sound had not been meant for him, he would not dishonour her by pretending that it was. Still, he could not take his eyes off her, and guiltily drank in the sight of her squirming under her covers. Bofur did not think he would ever be granted a more wondrous sight, and so he could hardly be blamed for not averting his eyes. Besides… Whatever line of thought he’d been about to pursue, it was completely halted when the woman’s lips parted once more. “O-Oh, Bofur…” The sheer speed at which a certain part of his body stood to attention was frankly impressive.  Up until that point, though the substance of her dream had been fairly clear, he’d had no indication of who exactly she’d been dreaming of. Now it seemed as though he had confirmation that she was dreaming of him. Bofur couldn’t quite believe it, but then she moaned his name again, and Bofur was really, really trying not to watch the swell of her generous breasts as her quickened breath made them rise and fall more dramatically than usual. Bofur was used to dwarrowdams, who had little more than was strictly necessary to nurse a child…

The Dwarf looked away suddenly, blushing, and feeling rather like a voyeur even though he hadn’t - and could not have - expected that this would happen when he settled down beside her. But then he could hear the sound of her shifting against her sheets, continuing to whine softly under her breath, and he had to look back. Bofur was startled to see that all her shifting about had brought her blanket down around her waist and oh sweet Durin’s Beard this was too much. The strings holding her blouse closed had loosened, allowing the shirt open, and the dwarf was only barely saved from - or maybe robbed of - a glimpse at her pert nipples. His miner’s mattock was rock hard, straining against his breeches and practically begging for some attention, and Bofur had to fist his hands against the dirt to stop himself from doing just that. Bofur refused to get himself off to the dreaming woman. If there was one thing he wasn’t, it was a pervert. Oh, he might’ve gotten himself off quietly thinking of her once or twice - or maybe more than that - but he was certain that there was a line, however thin, between thinking of her whilst he did so and actually doing it with her sleeping form right beside him, letting out little sounds that were not truly meant for him to hear… even if they were meant for a version of him in her dreams.

Oh Mahal she was dreaming of him. The reality of that hit him again, and he had to thud his head back firmly against the tree at his back to clear his mind of any mental imagery the thought conjured. The woman herself wasn’t exactly being helpful. Bofur didn’t quite have the strength to look away, and he could see her hips writhing so aggressively he was truly impressed she hadn't jolted herself awake by now. The miner had to quickly swallow a groan when he looked at her expression again, with her face contorted in pleasure and her bottom lip swollen slightly from being bitten. Suddenly, she threw her head back and her lips parted in a silent scream as her thighs shook violently, and then she slumped back down against her bedroll, panting like she’d just been running. It took Bofur’s mind a second to catch up with what had actually happened before he realised that she had just had a real orgasm from a dream about him, but when it finally clicked the amount of blood that rushed downwards made him so lightheaded he had to plant his palms firmly against the ground to stop himself from falling to the side. The woman groaned softly in obvious contentment, and rolled onto her side, now facing his direction.

“Mmmm, warn a girl before fucking her senseless why don’t you…”  

Now, Bofur really hadn’t needed that. It was honestly a wonder that her words hadn’t made him cum right then and there. After a moment he noticed that his own breathing was almost as fast as hers had been, and he took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. It didn’t really work.

About 20 minutes later, when Bofur was sure the woman was actually sleeping properly and wouldn’t be putting on the same display for anyone else, he woke up the dwarf who would be relieving him from his shift on watch; Oin. In all that time, his spear had remained upright, trying to poke through his clothing. A rather unfortunate truth began to dawn on him when he settled down in his own bedroll and attempted to sleep - he wouldn’t be getting any rest until he took care of his little problem and polished his sword. He was ridiculously grateful that it was Oin on watch, as the old dwarf was certain to get tired of holding up his ear trumpet at some point, and when he did he wouldn’t be able to hear the kinds of quiet sounds Bofur would be making and attempting to muffle. Sure enough a few minutes later, the trumpet was lowered, and as surreptitiously as possible Bofur snatched his hat off his head to use as a cover over his mouth in case he wasn’t quite able to catch all his groans in his throat. One hand shakily slipped down into his breeches, fingers curling firmly around the handle of his axe. It was difficult, but he managed to force his hips to remain still as he brought himself to completion quickly, knowing that Oin would likely notice if he moved around too much. He stubbornly tried not to think of the woman, but the tighter his pleasure coiled in his belly the more his mind strayed to her face, thrown back during the height of her passionate dream. In the end, he guiltily visualised her, trying to imagine just what exactly she had dreamt about. It didn’t take him long to spill over his hand, and he cleaned himself up as best as he could with a spare undershirt that already badly needed cleaning. Bofur fixed his hat back on his head, and though he supposed he should really be embarrassed with what he’d just done, he wasn’t. He was certain Oin hadn’t noticed after all, Mahal bless him. Bofur shuffled around on his bedroll until he found a comfortable position and it didn’t take long before his eyes closed and a peaceful sleep claimed him for the rest of the night.  Forever Tags: @sweeticedtea​ @cd1242​ @strongandfreedc​ @pixierox101​ @jotink78​ @luna-xial​ @underthemoon-n​

[thefloatingstone]

If you’re doing Self Quarintine (and you should be if you can help it) here’s some Youtube recommendations! Some of these I have posted about or recommended before but with almost all of us stuck indoors now’s a good time to remind you of some cool things you can watch for free!

I’m not gonna imbed the videos, I’ll just post the link because otherwise I would only able to post 5 and I want to collect a few so you can make a playlist or something. (I could make a playlist too but then I couldn’t tell you what each video is and you can’t pick and choose which one sounds interesting to you)

In no particular order:

Polybius: The video Game that doesn’t exist

An hour long documentary in which the youtuber did extensive research to find the origin of the “Polybius” Urban Legend, which speaks of an early arcade game reportedly seen around the early 1980s which reportedly gave people migraines, insomnia, nausea, subliminal messages, and in some cases heart attacks.

The Universal S

A shorter video in which LEMMiNO does his very best to try and track down where exactly this S that we all drew in middle school comes from? Why does literally every country on earth seem to HAVE their children draw this S?

I also recommend LEMMiNO’s video on the Dayltov Pass Incident and the perplexing UFO cases

Down the Rabbit Hole: Henry Darger

Fredrick Knudsen has an incredible fascinating series called “Down the Rabbit Hole” which simply focuses on... anything you can discover and go digging into. From weird internet personalities, to bizarre happenings in history. This video is about the artist Henry Darger, a man who lived in the early 1900s and for all intents and purposes had a perfectly average, lonely life, until it was discovered just before his death he had spent literally decades writing and drawing a fantasy world in what is possibly the longest piece of literature ever written.

I also recommend his video on the Hurdy Gurdy

Bedtime Stories Channel

I’m actually just gonna link the whole channel for “Bedtime Stories”. If you like weird and creepy stories, all of which at least claim to be “true” then Bedtime Stories is great. Coupled by illustrations and subtle sound effects, Bedtime Stories is literally listening to someone tell you a story about such things like hikers who mysteriously went missing, Sightings of Bog Men in Florida and giant Birds over Chernobyl, as well as weird and unsettling murders that remain unsolved. Sometimes the facts are a little dubious or have been disproved, but that’s not the point of the channel. It’s here to tell a creepy story, not give you a documentary.

A Journey Through Rule of Rose

Rule of Rose is a Survival Horror gave for the PS2 which has rather bad gameplay... but a FASCINATING story with just as many layers and symbolism as Silent Hill 2 could boast. It tells the story of one young woman traveling back into her own childhood in an orphanage in the 1930s, and all the horrors that contains. From repressed grief, abusive relationships, child neglect, abuse, and bullying... but it ALSO contains symbolism of societal class structure, politics, eating the rich, and how power structures work. Not for the faint of heart, but HIGHLY recommended.

I also super highly recommend his video on the similarities between Silent Hill 2 and Solaris

Clemps Reviews Crisis Core

Mr. Clemps is a great internet gamer who reviews JRPGs and other games he simply enjoys. Sprinkling in a heavy dose of comedy and very fast jokes and observations, Clemps’ videos are always upbeat, fun, and incredibly enjoyable to watch. I’m linking part 1 of his Crisis Core video in which he explains why the PSP game remains a personal favourite of his despite its flaws.

I also recommend his video on Eternal Sonata

Defunct TV: The History of Dragon Tales

Defunctland is a channel that deals with theme parks and theme park rides that are no longer standing, or which are no longer around in their current form. Defunctland also has a sub series though, called “Defunct TV” where they look at the origin of children’s TV which are no longer airing. I recommend the video on Dragon Tales which is incredibly wholesome, and a genuinely uplifting and soft story of good people trying to make good things for children. (I also recommend the videos on Bear in the Big Blue House, Zoboomafoo, and Legends of the Hidden Temple)

Hagan’s Histories of Polar Exploration

A Playlist for Diamanda Hagan’s videos about the doomed Franklin Expedition from the late 1800s, where England tried to find a passage through the Northern Arctic to the Pacific Ocean. This went horribly horribly wrong, with every member of the Expedition dead. Over a 100 years later we are still fuzzy on what EXACTLY happened, but apart from the arctic chill, there is also evidence of faulty canned food, a series of bad decisions, and cannibalism. Caution advised for this series.

I also recommend the rest of Diamanda Hagan’s channel. She is NOT for everyone, but if you enjoy somebody reviewing Z grade indie movies as well as just BIZARRE films, really bad Christian media bordering on Science Fiction (without making fun of religion itself) hot takes of classic (and modern) Dr. Who, an introduction to Red Dwarf, She’s an EXCELLENT channel to check out.

Good Bad or Bad Bad: Pass Thru

A half podcast half review show where two guys watch a terrible film, decide if it’s “Good” Bad or just Bad Bad and tell you if you should watch it too.

That’s it. That’s the whole show.

I recommend diving into the untold madness that is one of the best(?) bad film makers currently still producing batshit insane movies, the immortal Niel Breen.

There is literally nothing I can say that’ll prepare you for Niel Breen.

(I also recommend their more recent video for “Dancin’ It’s on!”)

History Buffs: Apollo 13

Do you like History? Do you like movies ABOUT History? Do you want to know if the movies about history you watch actually resemble what really happened in any way at all? History Buffs is an EXCELLENT channel, which does talk about the merit of a film itself, but is mainly focused on letting you know just how true to life that historical film you watch is. I highly recommend his longest video which covers the space race between the USA and the USSR, leading to what is known as “The most Successful Failure in NASA’s History”. The Infamous Apollo 13 and where the words “Houston, we have a problem” came from.

If you’re not interested in Apollo 13 however, I also recommend his video on the movie Casino, as well as his video on the female philosopher, Agora.

The Internet Historian: The Goodening of No Man’s Sky

With videos with literally MILLIONS of views, you probably already know the Internet Historian. But I still want to recommend him very highly because his videos are just THAT good and entertaining. I recommend his newest video, documenting that time we were all pissed off about No Man’s Sky, the difficulties the game studio was in when the game released, and how they have been working hard to finally create what is now a truly brilliant game which is winning major awards. A really good underdog story of how a video game company actually saw what was wrong with their game, and FIXED it.

I also recommend his video on Fallour 76 as well as the Failure of Dashcon

8 Creepy Video game mysteries

Hey. Did you know that sometimes there’s some REALLY weird shit in video games, hidden easter eggs which took literal decades to find as well as just a lot of “what the actual fuck?”. Oddheader is a channel with a dedicated discord and Reddit form solely focusing on trying to find or replicate bizarre video game finds, mysteries, and hidden glitches. Even if it means getting in his car and driving to a specific arcade just to check a rumour about Street Fighter II’s arcade version. So if you like getting spooked by weird game shit that’s not just some dumb creepypasta, this is a great place to start.

I also recommend his video on weird discoveries in DVDs and movies.

Red Letter Media: Best of the Worst

Look you already know who Red Letter Media is.

You know... these guys:

Here’s a video of them and Macaulay Culkin watching 3 terrible movies together.

I recommend literally any and all of their videos. Their discussion on Carpenter’s The Thing is amazing.

The Impact of Akira: The film that changed Everything

Ok trying to pick just ONE Super Eyepatch Wolf video is literal torture. Originally I was going to suggest his recent video on Final Fantasy 7 for the PSone but I realised I recommended something FF7 related with Clemps, so instead I will recommend The Impact of Akira, a video talking in depth about Akira both as a film as well as a manga, how it completely and utterly changed the anime industry both in Japan as well as the west, and why it is still a meaningful and one of the most important anime/manga even to this day, still being unsurpassed despite so much competition.

However, ALL of Wolf’s videos are incredible, so I also recommend his videos on wrestling (despite me not caring about wrestling at all), His video on how media scares us, The bizarre reality of modern Simpsons, Why the Dragon Ball Z manga is great, and literally any other video he’s made. He hasn’t made one bad video yet.

Was Oblivion as Good as I remember?

Exactly what it says on the tin. The Salt Factory goes back to playing The Elder Scrolls Oblivion and now with hindsight and modern sensibilities, gives feedback on his experience and whether Oblivion still holds up. This isn’t a super in depth review of the game’s mechanics or how its put together or how it was made. This is simply one guy talking about his experience replaying it with somejokes thrown in and how he felt revisiting it. It’s pretty good.

I also recommend the video he did on Morrowind (because I’m biased).

Weird Japan Only PS1 games

Thor High Heels is SO GOOD and deserves SO MUCH MORE subs than he currently has. THH focuses a lot of obscure and lesser known games as well as big popular titles like the Yakuza series, talking about what he likes about them, what he thinks is cool, and just what kind of atmosphere and mood a certain game has, even if the game itself is kind of ass. He’s done several videos on games that were only released in Japan, as well as videos talking about the fashion in Squaresoft games and how it inspired as well as was inspired by real world street fashion, the aesthetic of PC-98 games and other topics. He also styles his videos and thumbnails after promotional art for video games from the 90s and generally just has an excellent style to his channel over all. Very chill.

Blue Reflection Review

ValkyrieAurora is a channel run by Sophie where she talks about games she personally likes and enjoys. Her videos are really laid back and her voice is really calm and pleasant to listen to. She’s made a bit of a reputation for herself as “The channel that talks about the Atelier Games” and general is just a really enjoyable channel worth checking out if you just want something soothing to listen to.

Ancient Chinese Historians Describe Japan

Voices from the Past is a channel were historical text is read out loud in english. These can be anything like the above video where Chinese historians describe the people of Japan around 297 AD, Accounts of “Dog-Men”, or the worlds oldest letter of complaint from 1750 BC. If you’d like something interesting historically to listen to but don’t want a full blown history lesson, this is a really good way to hear contemporary people talk about their experiences and what they thought about each other in their own words, without opinions or input given by the narrator.

The Most Mysterious Song on the Internet

Whang! is a channel that covers weird internet stories, some horrifying, some curious and interesting, and some just plain weird. His video on The Most Mysterious Song on the Internet and its update, are about a song which was recorded off the radio in Germany around the 1980s, and after one person online asked if anyone knew who the artist was as they couldn’t find any information, led to the realization that NOBODY online knows where this song came from or who sang it. It’s a fun mystery to look into that, unlike some others on this list, is not creepy or unsettling, although perhaps a little frustrating.

I also recommend his video on The Most Mysterious Anime theme song, and the haunted Ebay Painting.

5 Lost, Destroyed, and Locked away Broadcasts

Yesterworld is similar to the Defunctland channel in that it talks about obsolete rides, theme parks and other forgotten pieces of entertainment. Although the majority of the channel focuses on movie rides, rollercoasters and Disneyland, I recommend the video on lost and locked away broadcasts which you can no longer see. I also recommend the video about Lost and Rediscovered movie props.

The Nightmare Artist

I talked about this one recently as I just discovered this channel. This video is about the renowned Polish artist Zdzislaw Beksinski who painted surreal and horrifying paintings during his lifetime. There is no mystery here or anything like that, it merely talks about the impact WWII left on Beksinski and how the trauma his country and people suffered influenced his painting, and how certain images and motifs can be seen to directly reference this terrible part of Poland’s history.

Disabilities in Prehistory

Modern media likes to portray how “savage” the ancient past is, and tell us stories of how any person born with a deformity or disability would be thrown over a cliff or dumped in a well because they would be too big a drain on a community to look after. But here’s the thing... according to archaeological evidence, it turns out our ancient ancestors actually did their best to look after its disabled members to the best of their abilities. This video talks about archaeological finds of people who had genetic disabilities and what we can learn from their remains. TREY the Explainer is a great channel for archaeology and also talking about what answers we could have for sightings of cryptids. (not ALL of which we have answers for)

I also recommend his video on Pre-Contact dogs as well as Homosexuality in Nature and the Genetic History of the Ainu.

Decoding “The Secret: A treasure Hunt”

“The Secret” was an art book released in the 80s full of beautiful paintings, but it is also more than that. The book has a fantasy story talking about 12 fantastical races who left wonderful treasures for humans to find,and the book’s paintings and riddles will tell you where you can find each of these treasures which are yours to keep if you can solve the puzzle... and the treasures are 100% true and can actualy be found and claimed, if you can solve the riddles in the book. The video tells the story of the artbook, who was behind it, what the treasures are, how many have been found and various other facts and details.

I also recommend the videos on this channel “The Game: A scavenger Hunt” and “The investigation of Erratas”.

5 Ancient Inventions That Were WAY Ahead Of Their Time

I would recommend you be careful with this channel as its main focus is existentialism and rather alarming topics such as “how close are we to the apocalypse” and other things whose titles alone are enough to upset me. However this video is nothing like that. This video is exactly what the title suggests it is. 5 ancient inventions that were so incredibly ahead of their time you’d think they were made up. From the computer used by ancient Greeks to steel swords we don’t know how to replicate, this video is a great mix of mystery and history.

Although I caution you with this channel, I recommend Joe’s other videos about mysterious books, as well as his video on the most inbred people in history.

However, I know I keep repeating this, I highly recommend caution with this channel. Perhaps its just me and the topics of life and existent are just triggering for me, but I’d recommend maybe just doing a search for the titles I mentioned and not to go searching through the video library unless you’re not bothered by this kind of thing.

-

Anyway I could keep going, but I think that’s a LARGE amount of videos to keep you occupied for the time being as well as some suggestions for further viewing.

Please enjoy, let me know if you found something interesting, and look after yourself!

If you enjoyed this list at all, please consider tipping me for a coffee

☕️ Ko-fi ☕️

[radramblog]

Halo Through its Guns: Reach

The year is 2010. Bungie has one final game left on their contract with Microsoft before they can make something that isn’t Halo. They were going to make it count.

Reach is the last Halo game that Bungie developed, and the latest non-numbered entry in the series that’s still a First-Person Shooter (unless Infinite dropped the 6?). It came at a time where FPS games were at the height of their popularity, when they dominated living rooms and the fledgling days of e-sports, before the rise of MOBAs and mobile games and the like.

The game is a reflection of all of this. It’s a mirror to both the franchise past and those others that sprung up in its wake. It’s a deliberately different game in story, aesthetic, and play to the others around it. And it’s proof that Bungie’s developers as a whole really loved working on this series, seeing as they put so much into their final entry.

As per usual, I think you can use the weapons as a lens into the game. As such, this is Halo: Reach through its gun- the Grenade Launcher.

In order to talk about Halo: Reach, we have to talk about Call of Duty. I know, I don’t like it either.

2009 and 2010 were the height of what could be referred to as the Halo/Call of Duty rivalry. Halo 3 was still huge, ODST had just released, with the franchise arguably at its peak of popularity- but Call of Duty was faring similarly, with the incredibly popular Modern Warfare releasing the same year as Halo 3 and the series sill riding the high of Modern Warfare 2 in 2009. Moreover, Halo: Reach and Call of Duty: Black Ops were set for release within the same few months of 2010. In effect, if you were, like me, a preteen middle class dude who had touched an Xbox controller before, you had to have an opinion about which one is better. Lines were drawn in the sand over which you preferred (with the other clearly being dirt), though CoD had the advantage of not being a console exclusive.

To those unfamiliar with shooty mans games, the two franchises look incredibly similar, but this isn’t especially true. Call of Duty is what many refer to as a “twitch shooter”, with an increased emphasis on reflexes and map awareness. Engagements between players are typically much shorter owing to their increased fragility, with much more weapons being able to kill in one or two hits. A melee is always a kill in CoD, whereas in Halo that’s only true if you catch someone from behind.

In place of the weapon sandbox from more classic shooters (like Halo), the CoD games of the era featured a huge range of customization options in the form of Loadouts. This kind of completely changes how weapons are treated in the series- since you can spawn in with any weapon in the game, the idea of a “power weapon” cannot exist for game balance, and so traditionally powerful weapons like sniper rifles and grenade launchers are significantly weaker than they’d be in other games. This, combined with the restriction that the guns have to be, you know, real actual guns that exist, makes the guns all kind of blend together. Most of the time, the differences are statistical rather than functional, and minor at that. I’m not saying this is an inherently worse way to go about things, but it’s very different, and something that will likely determine how much you enjoy either franchise.

This brings us to Reach. Bungie was very obviously aware of Call of Duty’s design at this point- they’d already been outsold by Activision twice- but I’m not sure anyone was expecting them to so deliberately change the way their own series works as a result. While obviously the game is still Halo, the way the gameplay has been facelifted in Reach is a clear reflection of the influence of the franchise’s primary competitors.

The biggest, most clear divide is in the massive complexity increases with weapons both old and new. Especially seeing as Reach heralded the final, permanent removal of dual wielding from the franchise, individual weapons were enabled to be more differentiated as a result. Looking at the new weapons from the game, only one of them could be argued as “basic”, and that’s the DMR- yet that’s also a major change, as it replaces the series’s now iconic Battle Rifle, having a longer range and scope to allow the Magnum to reclaim some of its former glory at medium/close range now that it’s been buffed and scoped once again.

I shit you not, every single one of these weapons is fucking odd. The Plasma Repeater’s fire rate slows as heats up, making it worse in an extended firefight, but you can press the reload button to vent it out it a pinch. The Needle Rifle features the Supercombine effect from the Needler on a longer range weapon, with the 3-bodyshot explosion making it much stronger in the hands of less experienced players. The Plasma Launcher echoes the Spartan Laser, but fires homing Plasma Grenades and allows versatility in how much you charge it up. The Beam Rifle has been replaced by the Focus Rifle, a long-range…Sentinel Beam? I dunno I’m not a huge fan of the Focus Rifle actually.

And then there’s the Grenade Launcher. The most obvious comparison to Call of Duty the game has. Modern Warfare 2 had an underbarrel Grenade Launcher available as an option for many primary weapons, with its quick switch option and instant-kill potential earning it the nickname of the “N00b Tube”. Bungie, on the other hand, nicknamed their Grenade Launcher the “Pro Pipe” and it shows in the gameplay. It has effectively two firing modes, requires very precise aim and timing to use most effectively, can shut down vehicles, and most importantly won’t be one-shotting anything anytime soon. It can be used to flush out enemies behind corners, as a trip-mine in objective-based gamemodes, and if you’re good, can even work very well against airborne opponents.

Speaking of airborne opponents, the Grenade Launcher interacts very interesting with most of the game’s new addition of Armor Abilities. Just about every gamemode has multiple available to spawn with, and they all work great in different situations. Unfortunately, just about all of them paled in usage compared to the Sprint ability and Jetpack- Halo not having an increased speed option was a deliberate choice, which Sprint really messes with, making it typically the best option. And Jetpack is so utterly insane for mobility, especially when you’re playing a game with powerful weapons in far-off spots. The Armor Abilities replaced the Equipment from 3, and I’m ultimately not sure how I feel about it. They did, however, contribute to something else, which we’ll get to in a moment.

Before that, I want to talk about factions. Much of Halo 2’s weaponry was dedicated to parallelising the UNSC and Covenant loadouts, to make going between Chief and the Arbiter easier, and 3 continued this with the Brute weapons. By contrast, Reach goes out of its way to deparallelise the two factions, deliberately making the two play slightly differently. You can still pair them up (though some of those are kinda a stretch), but there’s enough difference between each pairing that each weapon feels different, which especially makes playing as a Spartan or an Elite a subtly changed experience.

This is all (arguably) in service of what I’d call Reach’s crowing achievement- Invasion mode. It is the culmination of everything the game has to offer- an asymmetrical, objective-based gamemode with massive maps and incredibly complexity. The default loadouts are fairly basic, but as the game progresses, the power of each player’s equipment ramps up. The round-three loadouts are extremely cool, often letting you spawn with what would be considered a power weapon (albeit a more niche one like the Shotgun), each with a different Armor ability that suits its weaponry, and each forming a different role in an effective team. The Grenade Launcher gets to seriously shine as a part of the Grenadier loadout, particularly on Defense, as a tool to keep vehicles at bay, and the loadout’s Hologram ability lets you get an idea of enemy placement or movement so you can more effectively fire on out-of-sight targets.

Invasion is just such an incredible game mode. It perfectly suits the story and gameplay changes of Reach, and it is just really bloody fun. It has a scale that no other Halo Gamemode has managed to achieve, dwarfing even Big Team Battle. It lets you fully take advantage of everything the game has to offer, from weapons to abilities to vehicles to maps. As well, with Reach’s massively expanded gamemode customization and Forge map editor (with Forge World being a much greater canvas to work with than Sandbox ever was), it can and has been expanded and played with for years, being arguably the game-mode with the most potential for variety of all of them.

This complexity is what made Reach great. It’s what set it apart from its competitors, and what sets it apart from the other games within its own franchise. Sure, it doesn’t have dual wielding, but it really doesn’t need it. Bungie set out to make their last Halo game a memorable one, and its inarguable that with Reach, they succeeded.

Unfortunately, it’s also a level of complexity we’d never see again. While Reach was deliberately different from its contemporaries, the next games in the series would instead fall further in line with them. Join me next week, as we enter the 343 era of Halo.

…I’m going to need to find a way to play Halo 5 real quick, aren’t I?

[sigilsins]

His words set her mind almost spinning, even  though  she  offers  herself  to  him  it  still  somehow  feels  as  though  he  is  taking  what  is  rightfully  his.  It’s  thrilling  in  the  way  she  hoped  it  would  be,  hands  clutching  fiercely  at  the  skin  under  his  shirt  and  wishing  desperately  they  were  pressed  skin  to  skin.  Rhaenyra  is  burning  for  him,  she  has  been  since  he  grasped  her  hand  and  lead  her,  literally,  into  this  sinful  place.  It  only  seems  fitting  that  he  take  her  fully  into  the  realm  she’s  been  desperately  excluded  from.  Ah  soft  “ah!”  leaves  her  lips  when  Daemon  curls  his  fingers  in  her  silver  locks  and  inhales  the  scent  of  his  sweat.  He  proclaims  his  intentions,  searing  her  lips  in  a  kiss  that  makes  her  back  arch  from  the  wall  to  shape  herself  firmer  against  him.  Rhaenyra  is  aching  for  him,  in  ways  she  doesn't  fully  understand.  She  needs  to  be  whole,  and  only  Daemon  can  give  her  that.

Rhaenyra gaps against her uncles lips when his fingers reach cleverly between her thighs,  feeling  an  unexpected  sensation  of  being  incredibly  vulnerable  —  her  legs  wrapped  around  his  waist  leaving  her  open  to  the  unfamiliar  touch,  digits  sliding  into  her  virgin  cunt  as  she  still  simultaneously  yearns  fo  more  —  for  a  sensation  she  truly  doesn't  know.  Yet..  Her  partially  exposed  chest  fleshes  pink  at  his  words,  she  knows  this  smooth  and  goading  tone;  she  knows  Daemon  wants  to  hear  the  words,  the  sounds,  everything  she  has  to  offer  him.  “Ohh-,”  is  what  leaves  her  lips,  the  sensation  of  he  larger,  thicker  fingers  gliding  tightly  into  her  cunt  utterly  dwarfing  the  way  her  own  have  felt  in  the  past;  it  doesn’t  hurt…  it  feels  indescribably  good.  Rhaenyra’s  head  rests  back  against  the  wall,  tilting  so  Daemon’s  mouth  remains  on  her,  “the  first  and  —  and  the  only.  Please...  —”  she  repeats  a  touch  breathlessly.  It’s  hard  to  concentrate  when  his  fingers  are  shifting  inside  her,  when  she  feels  the  way  her  wetness  helps  the  slick  friction  and  the  way  her  cunt  both  clenches  around  him  to  demand  more,  "I  waited  for  you.  I  —  only  craved  the  feeling  of  you,  uncle.  I  know.  I  know  we  were  made  for  each  other.     Aren't  we?"

Rhaenyra, controlled by a mix of an inexperienced maidenhood's reckless desires and illicit cravings —  pulls  at  his  hair,  arches  at  his  touch,  cunt  clenching  bearing  down  on  his  fingers.  She  doesn't  know  exactly  what  she  wants,  but  whatever  it  is  that  she  desires...  only  Daemon  can  give  it  too  her.  "Only  you,  I  don't  know  —  I  just  need  you.  I  feel  so  empty,"  her  lithe  body  bares  down  against  his  fingers,  grinding  and  rolling  her  hips  as  she  wantonly  obeys  —  unashemed  of  any  sound  of  desire  that  leaves  her  lips.  "Don't  leave  me.  I  can't  take  it  anymore  —  I  am  a  woman  now,  Daemon.  Fingers  no  longer  satisfy  me,"  her  head  knocks  against  the  wall  behind  her  has  she  tosses  it  back,  eyes  closed  as  she  chases  the,  so  far,  unknown  feeling  of  being  complete.  "I  need  your  cock.  Make  me  whole,  it  could  only  be  you  —  stop  making  me  wait,"  Rhaenyra  rolls  her  hips  against  his  fingers,  her  whole  body  shuddering,  she  no  longer  cares  what  kind  of  sinful  words  leave  her  lips, gyrating down needily against his fingers (it's not enough).   "Fuck  me,  uncle.  ITake  me,  I  am  yours.  Don't  make  me  seek  another,  I-  I  need  it  —  I  need  to  be  filled.  Make me  whole."

Daemon’s   gaze   burned   into   Rhaenyra's,   the   corners   of   his   mouth   lifting   in   a   slow,   wicked   smile.   Her   words   echoed   in   his   mind,   stoking   the   flames   already   searing   through   him,   igniting   a   pride   he   could   barely   contain.   "Tired   of   waiting?"   he   echoed   in   a   low,   mocking   drawl,   his   voice   thick   with   the   satisfaction   of   watching   her   unravel   against   him.   "You   should   know,   my   fierce   little   dragon,   that   patience   has   never   been   my   virtue."

His   hands   roamed   possessively   over   her   skin,   every   trace   of   her   flesh   under   his   grip   a   claiming,   a   statement—she   was   his,   as   she   had   always   been,   whether   her   father   saw   it   or   not.   Feeling   her   nails   against   his   abdomen,   the   urgency   in   her   touch,   a   surge   of   satisfaction   coursed   through   him.   It   was   intoxicating,   watching   her   give   in   so   completely,   and   he   leaned   in,   his   lips   ghosting   over   the   sensitive   curve   of   her   throat,   relishing   in   the   way   she   shivered   under   him.

“There’s   no   one   else   in   the   realm   I’d   rather   watch   burn   for   me,”   he   murmured   against   her   skin,   teeth   grazing   her   throat   in   a   possessive   bite.   His   own   restraint   frayed   with   each   second,   fueled   by   the   relentless   press   of   her   body   against   his.   She   moved   with   haste   and   desire   and   in   turn,   his   cock   pressed   against   her   in   return   for   such   attention.

There,   in   the   shadows   of   the   whorehouse,   he   gave   her   a   gaze   that   was   daring,   dangerous,   as   though   he   were   as   willing   to   be   seen   as   she   was—his   way   of   letting   the   world   know   she   was   his.   He   met   her   gaze,   eyes   ablaze.   “But   you’re   right,”   he   whispered,   lips   almost   brushing   hers,   his   fingers   tangling   in   her   hair.   “I   am   done   with   waiting.”   With   that,   he   pulled   her   closer,   sealing   her   words,   her   wants,   beneath   a   kiss   filled   with   every   unspoken   promise   he’d   ever   made.   A   hand   sneaking   between   the   two   bodies   to   press   against   the   wetness   he   finds   there,   her   name   whispered   almost   like   a   prayer.

"You   want   me   inside   you,   sweetheart?   Don't   be   ashamed   of   anything   you   say   or   any   noise   you   make.   Not   here."   Not   with   me,   not   when   his   fingers   slip   inside   her   and   find   her   warm   and   wet   and   they   move   to   stretch   her   over   and   watch   with   delight   the   way   her   features   contourn   with   need.   "I'm   going   to   be   the   first   and   only.   Only   I   get   to   have   you   like   this,   don't   I?"   and   he   presses   further,   nibbling   on   her   earlobe,   mouth   moving   south   to   her   breast   and   mouth   at   one   through   the   loose   fabric   of   the   shirt.