#Best Anti Vibration

[hier--soir]

take your medicine

pre-outbreak joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: *tv sales advert voice* so you've been finding it hard to reach orgasm? lucky for you, our best-selling item "hunky boyfriend joel" is on sale at half price. shipping is free, and he is very determined to help you achieve your goals! call the number on your screen to buy now! OR your medication makes it difficult to orgasm so joel (and your vibrator) help make it happen. warnings/tags: set in the early 2000s aka early thirties joel my lover boyyyy, boyfriend joel, depression [nothing dark or sad], anti-depressants, brief discussion of food/eating, cigarette smoking [f], soft!supportive!joel, mentions of masturbation [f], unprotected piv sex, use of a sex toy, ride 'em cowgirl (1939) dir. samuel diege, cream pie, dirty talk, joel talks you through it. word count: 2.9k masterlist a/n: so this one is.... self-indulgent. shout out to all my friends on anti-depressants that are strugglin' to reach orgasm. me too, pals, me too. and there will be no medication shaming on this account, no there will not! so happy sunday, i hope someone else out there enjoys this short little thing with me x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing

Medication is a journey, they say. Every day will be different.

Medication is not the end all be all, they say. We can always try different avenues.

Six months on, now.

Six months since Let’s try the Zoloft for a few months.

Six months since We can reassess in April.

It’s June and summer has settled over Austin with a hot wet vengeance. April came and went with a mutual agreement that you weren’t ready to be weaned off yet. A gentle hand on your forearm and a softly spoken Why don’t we check in again in July?

A low dose. A starter dose. A you shouldn’t experience too many side-effects dose.  

And she was right – for the most part. There were no headaches, no nausea, no dizzy spells, no changes in appetite. That shallow, low mood that’d been haunting you for months suddenly began to lift. Begrudging exercise in the afternoons, a three-meals-a-day regiment implemented by your boyfriend, and a happy little pill with every morning coffee.

But fuck – you can count the number of orgasms you’ve had since January on one hand.

Countless nights spent alone in your bed, tangled betwixt sweaty sheets, fingers and forearm cramping until you finally give up. Drink a cold glass of water, wet your face, and go to bed frustrated; a routine disappointment.

You’d gotten lucky a few times, of course. Vibrator on the highest setting possible, pussy all puffed up and numb from the rough speed. Frustrated tears in your eyes, lightheaded by the time you finally feel that sweet sweet relief coursing through your veins.

A few times with Joel, too, in those first few months. And ignorance was bliss—quite literally—until he caught onto what you’d been doing.

“What was different tonight?” he’d asked you on one of those nights, laid out beside each other in his bed. Chests heaving, satisfied smiles spread across your faces.

Your hand had paused against his head, fingers twisted up in his sweaty curls, and you hesitated. So quick, the briefest pause before trying to play it off, but he caught it. Always too perceptive, too watchful of an eye; especially since you’d been diagnosed.

“What’s wrong?” Joel frowned.

“I… didn’t… my…” you’d mumbled, face tucked against his pillow.

“Can’t hear you when you do that,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Baby?”

“I didn’t take my meds today,” you repeated, voice still low, still wary. But you could tell he heard you. Knew from the way his body stiffened beside you. From how when you looked over his smile had dropped, eyebrows pinching inward. 

For a moment he didn’t even say anything. He hardly breathed. And then—Darlin’, why would you do that?—so painfully soft, the faintest tinge of worry in that deep, rasping voice of his. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, and something hot began to burn behind your eyes. Wet, pinching shame. “Just… I woke up and I wanted you. And I wanted it to feel like it used to for us, and I can never… you know I can’t finish when I’m on them, and I hate feeling like I’m disappointing you—”

“Baby,” Joel shook his head, strong hand cupping your jaw. His forehead knocked against yours; a tender but firm kind of insistence. The type that says look me in the fucking eyes and listen up. “You’re not disappointin’ me.”

“Joel,” you sighed, face hot, foreheads tacky where they pressed together.

“No,” he grunted. “I fuckin’ mean it. This stuff takes time, okay? We’ll figure it out the way we always do. Just… don’t do that again. Please.”

“I won’t,” you murmured feebly, nose smushed against his.  

“Promise me,” Joel had urged you. “Promise me you’ll take your medicine.” 

“I promise, Joel.”

You kept strong on that promise. Didn’t get frustrated when he’d stay over more nights than usual, or drag you back to his place in the evenings – all just to watch you pop that little white pill in the mornings.  

It brought out something new in him, the day you’d showed him the prescription. Like some instinctual protectiveness was unlocked and he just kicked into hyperdrive.

Cutting work early to drive you to your doctor’s office, cooking up different meals every night for dinner.

Most days you wake up alone in his bed; wipe the sleep out of your eyes as you wander downstairs. Let him nudge you into a chair at the table, beside Sarah, so he can set identical bowls of cereal in front of the two of you—his girls. Hell, if you had a dollar for every time that man has said Breakfast is the most important meal of the day in the past six months, you’d have more money than you could spend.

Joel didn’t even get mad when you started smoking again in May.

Didn’t bat an eye when he found you at two in the morning, sat on the back porch in one of his sweatshirts with the smell of tobacco staining your fingers.

“Been a long time since I seen once of those in your mouth,” he’d smirked, settling onto the stoop beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you grimaced, remembering how proud he’d been when you quit. He rested his head against your shoulder, eyes watering with a yawn.

“S’late,” he grumbled sleepily. “N’you smell now.”

“I’m sorry,” you’d repeated, stamping the cigarette into the concrete. “Today was just… hard. Couldn’t sleep.”  

“S’okay,” Joel told you. “Just don’t like it when you sneak out on me, yeah? You know I ain’t judgin’ you.”

The only thing that frustrates Joel, is that he comes, and you don’t.

And it’s not a frustration with you. No, it’s a hot faced guilt that spreads through him every time you fuck. Evident in those frantic touches, desperate pleas of your name, of tell me what to do, tell me how to help, of fuck I’m sorry.

Because you still want him, despite it all. Still can’t help your wandering hands, your fingers that tease back his bed sheets and then his boxers and coax orgasm after orgasm out of him, night after night.

Tonight, you thought, would be no different.

Covers strewn across the end of your bed, pillows askew, you sit astride his lap.

It’s hot; the AC in your apartment has been broken all week, and your thighs are tacky with sweat where they press against his skin. Everything wet – sweat in your hair, slick between your thighs, the soft squelching sound that raises with every press of his cock inside of you.

“Fuck,” Joel pants, hands tight against your waist. “I can’t—goddammit, I’m not gonna last, baby.” 

“It’s okay,” you moan, eyelids heavy as you rock your hips over his.

It’s late, and you both have work early in the morning, but the burn is so good like this. The heavy weight of him reaching so far, pushing the limits of what your body can take. For years it’s been your favourite way to fuck him; poised above his body, admiring the way his stomach tightens and his eyes roll when you sink down on his cock.

“What can I do?” his voice is strained, the veins in his neck bulging as he holds his breath – anything to stave off the impending high.

You only whimper pathetically, grinding your hips into his. Can feel everything in your stomach knotting up into a white-hot ball.

“Hey,” Joel urges, hand landing in a soft slap against your outer thigh. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know,” you cry out, shaking your head. “It’s right there, but I…”

“But what?” he murmurs, hips snapping up again.

“I don’t think I can,” you finally admit, eyebrows drawn tight in frustration. Your lower lip is bitten raw at this point, incessantly gnawed at by your own teeth. His grip tightens on your hips and he drags you upward until his length slips out, falling against his stomach with a wet smack.

“C’mon, tell me what you need,” he says quickly, and you’re sure that the desperation you see in his eyes is mirrored in your own. Pupils blown round and fat, endless black—pleading.

You stare down at him for a moment. Watch the way his chest heaves with harsh, stilted breathes. How little dots of sweat have gathered at the hollow of his throat. And fuck, you want it so bad.

“Top drawer,” you exhale roughly, pointing to the side table.

Joel doesn’t question the order. Doesn’t say a word as he spreads a long arm across the bed, yanking the drawer open and shoving his hand inside. You watch him rifle around for a moment, pulse increasing as you wait for him to find what you want. What you need. And you can tell when he does; his shoulders stiffen and he lets out a choked sort of sound, pulling out the black wand and shoving it into your hand.

“Show me,” he says, eyes wild.

Your finger drops down against the button, turning your hand to show him which one to press.

“There’s four settings,” you murmur, slipping it back into his palm.

“Does this normally help?” he asks, grunting softly as you grip his cock, notching the tip back at your entrance.

“Sometimes,” you sigh, sinking down, sucking in the heavy weight of him. “Can still take a—a little while.”

He presses the button tentatively, watching as the rounded head of the wand starts to vibrate. Spread open around him, he can see your swollen little clit so easily, and he lowers the wand to press against it. Your body jolts forward, mouth splitting open with a groan as heat flares through you. Your hips stutter against him instinctively, chasing that intense feeling, and he looses a gravelly moan at the feeling of your wasted cunt squeezing around him.

“Look at that,” Joel grunts, dark eyes trained on your face. That wicked pink tongue slips out to wet his lips and he nods in encouragement. “I know, baby, I know it’s a lot, you feel good?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, jaw going slack as you settle into the feeling. “Fuck, yes, it’s good, it’s good.”

It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before; nothing your past boyfriends had ever been comfortable enough to try. It has the muscles in your thighs tensing up already; the thick press of his cock paired with that unrelenting, almost overbearing, vibration.

“Can feel it,” he hisses out, head tilting back into the mattress.

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he nods, expression grim. The muscle in his jaw twitches. “So fuckin’ tight like this. All wound up, y’need it so bad, I know.”

You moan, eyelids fluttering as he presses the button again, notching it to a higher speed. You lift up slowly and then press back down over him, and the two of you groan in unison. His free hand falls against the curve of your ass and he squeezes, encouraging you to rock against him, starting up a steady pace.

One of your hands settles on your chest, fingers twisting and pulling at your nipples. You need more, always more, something, anything.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” Joel mutters, and you can tell how fucked out he is already as he watches you. Dark eyes glazing over, mouth hanging open deliriously. “My pretty girl, so damn good for me.”  

Your heart stumbles in your chest and you whimper, appreciation for him flooding your senses. He’s been so close for so long tonight already, teetering precariously on that edge but holding off for you. Fucking you into the mattress before pulling out and tucking his face between your thighs, doing his damnedest to get you to that same place. Urging you to get on top, to take what you needed, to use him to get yourself off.  

“I love you,” you mumble breathlessly, eyes pinching closed as something sharp starts to tingle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel snarls, hips snapping upward.  

“What ar—” your words cut off with choked moan as he clicks the button again, and then again, taking it to the highest speed. Your shoulders shake and you tilt forward a little, hand gripping his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Joel,” you cry out, chest heaving and stomach tightening.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, searching for something to ground yourself against. That firm press against your clit doesn’t falter for a second, and you let out a rough moan.  

“Good,” he grunts. “Good girl, give it to me.”

The muscle in his bicep spasms and strains beneath the skin, everything pulled taut as he keeps the wand pressed firmly against you. And it’s almost painful, the way you can feel your high coiling inside you, burning, but never quite reaching fever pitch the way you need it to. 

A symphony that builds and billows and writhes within you. Sloping swells of violins and cellos and trumpets. Up, up, up to that shattering crescendo you just can’t seem to reach.

“Joel,” you mewl, and there’s tears in your eyes, on your cheeks. Hot, fat tears that stain your face now, dripping from your chin to splatter against his chest.

“C’mon now,” he grunts, hips shifting up off the bed, meeting you thrust for thrust. The stretch of his cock is so wide, so deep, and every shift of his body punches the air from your lungs.

“I don’t know if I can,” you shake your head, stomach on fire. The vibrations are so intense, the speed so fast, you can feel your clit going numb beneath it. But Joel doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop the fast pace of his hips. The muscles in his abdomen twitch under you, tan skin glistening with sweat.

“You’re so close,” he goads, jaw tight. “Don’t fight it, baby.”

“Stop moving,” you beg then, your voice a high keen. Joel stills instantly, wary eyes darting across your face. He doesn’t pull the vibrator away though. Not yet.

“Fuck,” you cry out, hand firm against his stomach. “Just let me-just—”

Knees on fire against the bed, you grind your hips down into his. Gasp as his cock presses hot and heavy against something deep inside of you that sets your entire body shaking, vibrating against him; buzzing at the same high-speed rhythm as the wand between your legs. You rut against him again and again and then something pulls tight and hot at the base of your spine.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, eyes widening. “Oh god, Joel, I think—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” he moans. A bead of sweat rolls from his hairline to his chin. “You’re okay, let it happen.”

“Touch me,” you say, breathless and needy and so so desperate. “Fuck, please.”

Joel groans – a deep, guttural thing. A sound that comes from somewhere in the base of his stomach. It rattles your bones and has your fingernails digging into his stomach, and then his hand is on your chest. Rough fingers squeezing and stroking and pinching and you’re gasping, keening his name as he whispers frenzied words of encouragement and it’s building it’s building it’s building and and and—

Everything goes silent when you come. It’s all blurred vision and deafened ears; an intense ache in your jaw from the way your mouth hangs open. You can feel a vein in your neck, raging beneath the skin; a staccato rushing sound that echoes inside your head.

And you think you can hear Joel’s voice, somewhere beyond it all; Fuck, there it is, good girl, good fuckin’ girl.

When your eyes flutter open, you can only see Joel’s face swimming in your vision. His eyes rolling back, lips parted as he snarls your name.

“Fuck,” he spits. “—yeah, that’s it, there we fuckin’ go.”

You feel his cock kick inside of you; fast jerking spasms and then a warm rush as he starts to come. Your hand wraps around his, pushing the wand to the side of the bed, but he doesn’t fucking stop. He grips your waist and fucks up into you, spitting curses and warbled slurs of your name as he pumps you full of his hot spend.

It’s obscene – a mix of your come and his, squeezing out around his girth and smearing against the inside of your thighs. It pools around the base of his cock and you whimper at the sight, swollen cunt still tightening around him. Only when you start to sag down against his chest does he rest, his thighs twitching and tensing with the aftershocks of his high.  

Joel raises a hand, calloused thumb brushing the tears from your cheeks. Then, carefully, he grips the back of your neck, guiding you down to rest against his chest.

Your shoulders slump and you press a lazy kiss against the jut of his collarbone. And for a moment there’s just this. No sounds but that of heavy breaths and a soft buzzing, forgotten somewhere in the sheets. The swipe of his fingertips down your spine, your lips against his salty skin. A gentle tap against your waist and he’s slipping out of you with a sigh, but not letting you pull away, not letting you move from where you’ve collapsed directly on top of him.

“Missed that,” you slur sleepily, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“Me too,” he mumbles. “Did so good. Made me proud.”

“S’that right?” you smile against his skin.

“S’right, baby.”

You hum, dragging your head up to press a kiss against his mouth. Both of you so exhausted that it’s just a brief, lazy swipe of your lips, but it’s enough. It’s thank you.

“Shower?” he suggests softly, smiling up at you.  

“Or… cigarette?” you respond, eyebrows raised, teasing.  

“Watch it,” he smarts, laying a quick smack against your ass before nudging you off of him. He stands and holds out a hand to help you off the bed, tutting underneath his breath. “Although I guess you’ve earned it.”

a/n: in hindsight, idk why the fuck i wrote that it took them six months to try this but what can you do lmao.

thank you for reading! x

[eldritchpotato]

Bovine Mixup

Working on a farm has never been easy, doubly so with the recent disappearances of a few cows. When you attempt to get to the bottom of this mystery it’s you who ends up taken next. You’re not a cow but such things can be fixed.

Part 1, Part 2.

Content Warning: alien abduction & experimentation, hucow transformation, GN reader, brainwashing, lactation & milking, pregnancy, and intelligence reduction.

It was so bright, that was the first thing you realized as consciousness swirled back to do. You felt utterly disoriented and confused. The last thing you remembered was angrily marching out to the barn to investigate the ruckus the cows were making in the middle of the night and then… that light…

You tried to move but couldn't. You weren't even on a surface either. Squinting through the bright light you realized you were touching nothing… you were floating. What the fuck.

The light swiveled away and you blinked rapidly to try to adjust. The room was… and… the… it was a little overwhelming. You found yourself floating in some kind of beam of light, suspended in the air. The room was somehow mechanical and organic, strange greys and fresh tones. You didn't even know what you were looking at.

But what really drew your attention was the figure in a lab coat bumbling about with various machinery. It was… well it was a fucking alien. 

The purplish floating tentacled thing had a glowing angler lure dangling out from the neck hole. It wasn't even humanoid enough to wear a lab coat, somehow having just draped the garment over itself. It let out a wet trilling sound, its flaps wobbling as it used coiled tendrils emerging from the arm holes of the lab coat to press a few buttons in the wall.

“Greetings bos taurus, your fluids are required. Do not be alarmed, Dr. Homan is the best human bovine doctor, there will be no probing.”

The mechanical voice continued but you were distracted by “Dr. Homan” floating over to investigate you. A large crooked claw poked you in the chest and its folds vibrated. It floated away to twist more dials. It was clearly machinery but how it worked you had no idea.

You were a little more focused on the whole getting kidnapped by aliens thing. Though…

“This is clearly a misunderstanding,” you croaked. You were a human, not a cow. Dr. Homan hardly seemed to care.

“Specimen does not match. Identifying species… human.”

Dr. Homan let out a warbling humm and busily interacted with the machinery.

That was good right, they realized their mistake. Surly they would just send you back to earth.

“Synthesizing mutagen. Probes will be required, prepare yourself subject”

Oh that didn't sound good. But try as you might there was nothing to strain against, you remained suspended mid air and could barely move a muscle.

A panel in the wall squelched open like the opening of a sphincter and Dr. Homan retrieved some kind of device. It looked similar to a needle that you started to squirm. The liquid that sloshed about was an utterly impossible shade of green that was reserved solely for cartoon radiation.

Dr. Homan floated closer and raised up the syringe. You couldn't turn away but you could wince back slightly. Dr. Homan paused and clicked a few more buttons.

“Calculating resistance reduction methods.”

That also sounded extremely bad. You could wiggle your fingers ever so slightly, and you were pretty sure you were getting closer and closer to the edge of this weird anti gravity beam thing. Just a little longer and maybe you could get free.

“Optimized method identified. Executing.”

Fuck. Lights lip up your vision again as whatever strange projector lit back up. This time however it wasn’t just a bring light. A koledscoping pattern flashed across your vision disorienting you. You felt like you were falling into it, dizzy and confused.

The more you blinked to combat this onslaught the more your eyes were drawn to shapes and colours. The movements were hypnotic, overwhelming. So distracted were you that you hardly felt Dr. Homan slid the needles into your neck and injected you with the liquid.  

You kept spiraling down further and further, deeper and deeper. Whatever resistance you had could not be mounted whole your brain was occupied trying to keep up with the onslaught.

Your neck stung, but then the shapes dropped again and you only had the capacity to focus on one or the other. The serum coursing through your blood went forgotten.

Passively you noticed your clothes had been removed at some point. You weren’t even floating anymore. Wasn’t there something you were supposed to be doing.

Oh right, the colours. You kept watching the colours.

You didn’t put up any resistance as metal segmented tentacles wrapped around you. Obediently you opened your mouth to let one slip inside. Since you had already let one in you might as well let them all in. 

At some point you found all your holes filled, the arousal surprising you as your body pulsed with heat. The tentacles probed deeper, and you greedily welcomed them even if you were too busy watching the spirals to encourage them any further.

You could figure that out later. For now, you just had to see where this spiral was going.

[winterinvelaris]

The Lucky One

Chapter One: Stay Stay Stay

Pairings: Feyre/Rhysand

Summary:

Feyre has spent the last two years of her life trying to be the perfect girlfriend for Tamlin. She's pushed away her friends, her sisters, her father… she even quit her job and started going to UCLA on his paycheck. Everyone who used to know her insists that she's losing herself, but Feyre knows better. Tamlin is kind, funny, smart-- even rich and handsome, as if that matters. Feyre is lucky to have him. Sure, she'd like him to respect her interests and loved ones a little more, but no one is perfect. Certainly no one who would go for her. Tamlin is the best she's ever going to have. Right?

TL;DR: Feyre leaves her toxic relationship with Tamlin and immediately lands herself a mega-rich Hollywood prince charming. AKA Rhysand

Read on Ao3 or under the cut:

Feyre blew out an anxious breath, pulling her phone out for the eighth time in the last five minutes. Her breath fogged in front of her face, the chill in the air only heightening her frustration.

Tamlin was supposed to be at the theater twenty minutes ago. It was the first date he’d planned for them in months, and Feyre had been grateful enough for the rare effort that she hadn’t even argued when he shot down her movie suggestion and begged to go see something he liked instead. She was happy to watch whatever war documentary had caught his attention, if only to spend time with him outside of his penthouse. It sounded ungrateful when she thought about it that way, but… was it so much to ask for him to show up on time?

Finally, her phone vibrated.

Tam <3: Sorry. Working late. Can’t make it. Wait up for me at home?

Shame flooded through her. Of course he’d have a reason. Yes, she wished he’d told her before she drove all the way out to the movie theater, but work had been killing him lately. She didn’t blame him for forgetting about their date, not when she apparently couldn’t be bothered to remember the kind of stress he was under. She should drive right back home and prepare something nice for when he got home– dinner, or cookies, or something like that– to apologize for doubting him. Not that she had expressed those doubts, but it was the right thing to do.

“Hey, stranger,” A voice called from behind her. Feyre turned sharply, and came face to face with her sister’s friend. Emerie stood beside a pretty blonde Feyre didn’t recognize. “You look lonely.”

“I was waiting for my boyfriend,” Feyre explained. “But he just cancelled, so I should be going.”

Emerie didn’t hide her look of distaste at the mention of Tamlin. The first time Feyre had brought Tamlin home to meet her family, Emerie and Gwyn had been bundled up in the living room with Nesta, the three of them engrossed in their monthly book club pick. Feyre had asked what manner of romance had struck their fancy this time, and Gwyn had immediately launched into a wonderfully enticing summary of the whole thing. Tamlin had kept quiet at the time, but had made his feelings clear the moment they had a moment alone. He didn’t want Feyre to spend too much time with her sister’s friends anymore. She had resisted at first, but after several lectures about their anti-intellectualist interests and the toxicity of Feyre not respecting his boundary, she relented.

The problem was that avoiding Emerie and Gwyn meant avoiding Nestwo ta as well. The two sisters had been slowly but steadily improving their relationship in the years before Tamlin, so when he came along it was no secret what– or who– had reopened the rift. Feyre knew that when Nesta was hurting, Emerie and Gwyn hurt as well. As such, Feyre was well aware of what they both thought of her boyfriend.

“That’s a shame,” the blonde said. “You’re all dressed up, and you’re already here… What movie were you going to see?”

“Uh, some war documentary, I think? I forget the name. He picked it.”

“You should come see The Night Court with us,” Emerie suggested.

The Night Court had been the movie Feyre wanted to see. Tamlin, who was an avid hater of all things chick flick and leading actors with “punchable” faces, had dismissed it immediately. She understood that romcoms were silly, and she didn’t even really know what the movie was about, but Feyre had always loved romantic movies, despite herself. Some part of her still felt compelled to go home and do something nice for Tamlin, but…

“Sure,” Feyre shrugged, “Why not? As long as you don’t mind me third wheeling your date.”

“It’s not a date,” the blonde corrected her quickly. “I’m straight.”

Feyre winced at her own assumption.

“Oh, my mistake. Sorry, I just thought–”

“Let’s go inside,” Emerie cut her off. She turned on her heel and marched through the glass doors, and Feyre and Mor followed suit.

“I haven’t heard much about this movie,” Feyre said, desperate to change the subject. “Just that it’s a romance.”

“I’ve heard a little too much about this movie,” Mor laughed. “I think the amount of rants I’ve been subjected to about on-set drama broke a few NDA laws.”

“Mor knows the main guy.” Emerie explained to Feyre.

“I don’t just know him,” the blonde– Mor– explained, “He’s my cousin.”

“Is it strange having an actor in the family?” Emerie asked.

“Not until thirst edits of him show up while I’m scrolling.” Mor followed her answer with a gagging sound.

Living in LA, it was common enough to run into people who knew one or two famous people, so Mor’s connection to this actor was anything but strange. Feyre decided not to mention that she had no idea who this man was. It wasn’t even until the movie started rolling that she learned his name.

Starring Rhysand Blackwood.

The film started, and Feyre smiled to herself, the imagery soft and sweet and the music upbeat. She didn’t know Emerie very well, and Mor was a complete stranger, but it had been so long since she had gone out like this. She didn’t have close friends outside of Tamlin and Lucien, so it was nice to just do things with other girls. Things like seeing a cheesy movie her boyfriend would have hated.

The smile disappeared from her face when he appeared on screen. He was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His pitch black hair was styled perfectly, a few loose strands of it falling attractively in front of his deep blue eyes. By the end of the next two hours, after several shirtless scenes and on-screen makeout sessions, Feyre was practically drooling.

As they emerged from the theater, Feyre let Mor and Emerie do most of the talking. Feyre had kept up with the plot decently enough, but all she could think about now was Rhysand. She doubted Mor would appreciate hearing Feyre rant about her unfairly attractive cousin.

“It was so good to see you again,” Feyre managed when they reached Emerie’s car. “I’ve missed you. And Gwyn.”

Emerie was silent for a beat, as if debating her next sentence.

“But not Nesta?” she said finally. Feyre winced.

“Of course I miss Nesta,” Feyre amended. “I just meant that it was nice to catch up. I know things have been weird.”

“Because your boyfriend hates us?”

“No!” Feyre hissed. Mor muttered some excuse and slipped into Emerie’s front seat. “He doesn’t hate you. It’s just– since we’re so committed, he doesn’t find it appropriate for me to be going out with single girls all the time. It’s a boundary of his that I have to respect.”

Feyre decided not to mention that Tamlin also found their hobbies to be degrading and unfit for a future wife. She didn’t agree, but if he wanted a mature and intellectual girlfriend, Feyre could be that for him. Even if most days all she wanted was to go out to brunch with some women her age and talk about things that would make Tamlin pop a blood vessel.

“Y’know, Nesta used to go on and on about her feisty little sister who didn’t take shit from anybody.” Emerie said. “What happened to you, Feyre? I mean, do you even have any friends anymore? Or are you only allowed to hang out with his friends now?”

“That’s none of your business.” And entirely too true. “I’m lucky to have him. He provides so much, and he asks for so little. If I want to be his wife, I have to learn how to compromise.”

“Is that what you want?” Emerie snapped. “To live like this forever? Pushing away your sisters and your friends for some stock bro influencer douchebag?”

Feyre couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m going home. Goodnight, Emerie.” Without another word, Feyre turned on her heel and left. Still, she couldn’t get Emerie’s words out of her head.

What happened to you?

Is that what you want?

To live like this forever?

Do you want to live like this forever?

Forever. Forever. Forever…

Feyre cursed under her breath when she finally got into the taxi and turned her phone back on. Under seventeen missed calls from Tamlin, there was a string of unread messages.

Tam <3: I’m home. Where are you?

Tam <3: Feyre, where the hell are you?

Tam <3: Answer your phone.

Tam <3: If this is because I skipped the movie, you should know that I find that very  immature, Feyre.

Tam <3: This is childish, even for you.

Tam <3: ANSWER YOUR PHONE.

Tam <3: Why is your location off?

Tam <3: I swear to God, Feyre, if I find out you’re at a bar right now, we’re done.

Tam <3: Why did Morrigan just tag you in an Instagram story?

Tam <3: Things like this are why I made you give me your password. I don’t ever want to hear that “just trust me” bullshit again.

Tam <3: Just come home so we can work this out.

Shit, shit, shit.

Feyre: I’m so sorry. My phone was off. I’ll call you right now.

Feyre pressed the green call button. The phone rang and rang until she was greeted with his voicemail.

Feyre: Please answer. I’m coming home right now.

Feyre called again, to the same result. 

Feyre: I just ran into Emerie and her friend. We decided to see a movie while I was there.

Another call, still no answer. Feyre blew out a shaky breath, desperate to hold in her tears. Everything would be okay. She would go home and talk to him, and he would understand. He had to understand.

[paused-waterfall]

I am something of a connoisseur of dead fandoms. I don't have the patience for living ones-- my interest tends to fizzle out when it's fed a normal release schedule. So instead, I binge completed works, then binge their most popular 100 or so fanworks, think of nothing else for a month while practically vibrating with unspoken opinions, and then move on. I've picked over many a corpse this way, broken into many a dwindling house party to steal the forgotten hors d'oeuvres then bounce before anyone could catch me in a long-entrenched argument that I only half understand. This is my default way of consuming media.

So trust me when I say that picking up dsmp in 2023 is bizarre.

This is less like wandering through a failed shopping mall, and more like playing Eldritch Horror. There are so many signs of past conflict; so many scattered bits of discourse that I'm trying not to look too closely at for fear of releasing something I cannot comprehend. Everyone uses a special nomenclature to differentiate the characters from their players, and they stick to it like a goddamn lifeline. Any tumblr mentioning the fandom in their bio also immediately follows that with a declaration as either an anti or an apologist for the guy who runs the server. A given creator could be voiceless, faceless, in Antarctica, or on tumblr standing behind you right now. Every bit of lighthearted fanart is paired with an oblique spoiler hinting that every single character and the land they walk on is doomed.

And then there is the very literal reverence for the dead. It's clear that for so many who followed the server in real time, Techno's death is a heavy weight to bear. At least for this latecomer, the legend of Technoblade can't be overstated. Knowing from the start that he wouldn't be there to see the end of this story has not lessened his impact within it. On the one hand, it's not terribly different from experiencing most of the classics-- I don't mourn for Jonathan Swift when I read A Modest Proposal. But on the other hand I know that I'm walking on an open wound. Perhaps it's best that I leave the topic at that.

Who's to say if this fandom will launch back into full force when the second season kicks off. I should probably be sure I'm outside the blast radius before that happens. But for now I'm grabbing all the potatoes I can carry and eyeing the plate of muffins cause man, there's a lotta delicious shit here.

[bellysoupset]

It's @lisupanddown with a MINI fic request - we haven't seen any motion sickness lately, and I'd love a little, loving drabble with sick Leo and caretaker Jon in a situation where they have to travel, and maybe Jon was in charge of bringing the anti-nausea meds and forgot, and feels so guilty about it because they both know Leo's going to get sick and there's no way to avoid it. Would love to see the onset of the nausea - throat bobbing, swallowing, Jonah hovering and trying to do his doctor best to help while cursing himself for forgetting the meds. And Leo both feeling so sick, but also trying to comfort Jonah because hey, mistakes happen (maybe he can start out being annoyed or stressed or prickly, but realizes eventually that that's not helping the situation). Okay, so this is awfully specific and detailed, lol.

Oh my god, Lis, this is noooot little 🙈. But I'll try anyway.

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

"I'm so excited I'm almost vibrating out of my skin," Leo said, as soon as Jonah pulled over in front of his work building. They were all heading down to Doveport, or rather, just outside of it.

Vince, the overtly friendly person he was, had already stricken up a friendship with one of the older teachers, who just so happened to have a cabin by the lake and was more than happy to rent it out for the weekend for a decent fee.

It was just the weekend, so in order to better utilize their time, Jonah and Leo were leaving straight after work on a Friday. It was court day, so Leo didn't even have time to pack, trusting Jon to do it for him.

Besides, it was just two days away, even if he forgot something like extra underwear, it would be fine, right?

Jonah was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, completely relaxed, even if he looked pretty tired himself after working all day and with four hours of road ahead of them.

Jon was in the best mood Leo had ever seen him lately, all smiley and soft, probably due to his sister visiting and everything falling into place as his controlling ass had planned. He was overdue a cranky moment, Leo thought with a snort, leaning his head back and planning on napping for his half of the trip as the passenger.

No such thing. The minute they were out of the city and into the open road, Leo felt a pressure between his ears, as if someone was squeezing his head. He let out a sigh, opening his eyes and focusing them on the horizon, immediately recognizing the initial signs of motion sickness.

"We should've carpooled," Leo said, just because their comfortable silence was turning into anything but, given the weird pressure in his head, "there's no reason for all of us to drive separately."

"Wendy left during lunch," Jonah reminded him, unbothered, "and I'm not sharing a car with Luke and Bell, they drive me insane."

"Uhm," Leo rubbed a hand over his face and let out yet another sigh when staring at the sun setting ahead of them didn't help at all, "where did you put the dramamine?"

"Already?" Jonah groaned, "it's in your backpack, backseat, front pocket."

"Already," Leo nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning around to grab the blue backpack. He sat back down on his seat and opened the front zipper, only to frown. Some minty bubblegum, a folded plastic bag, his phone charger... "it's not here."

"Of course it is, search better," Jon rolled his eyes, lowering his window so he could rest an elbow on the windowsil and his head on his hand, yawning, "I brought my fishing gear."

"I didn't even know you had that," Leo mumbled, removing all the contents from the front pocket and glaring at the empty space. No pills. He unzipped the other pockets, now feeling much more urgent as glancing down to search for the meds was making his nausea worse, "it's not here. You didn't pack the freaking meds, Jon."

Jonah frowned, looking away from the road, then switching his hands on the steering whell, so he could shove his right one inside the backpack Leo had already inspected, fully believing his boyfriend had done a poor job of it.

Then he cursed, "oh shit, I'm sorry, Leo- Maybe it's in my bag?"

Leo groaned, covering his face with his hands and rubbing vigoriously as if that was going to help the uncomfortable sloshing in his belly. The thought of his lunch flashed in front of his eyes and Leo swallowed in thickly, turning around once more in order to exchange bags.

It was to no avail, Jonah hadn't brought the meds.

"Fucking hell, Jon," Leo said, grabbing the plastic bag he had iniatially seen and opening it on his lap. He leaned back, breathing through his mouth and rolling down his window, hoping the cool air was going to help some.

"There's a rest stop in one hour," Jonah said in a strained voice, clearly feeling guilty, "I think they have a pharmacy. Can you hold on that long?"

Leo raised a hand and shook it from side to side in order to indicate he wasn't sure. He didn't dare speak, pressing his lips in a thin line as overly sweet saliva started to flood his mouth.

He gulped down, then startled as he felt Jon taking his hand in his, "What-"

"It's a pressure point," the other man answered, keeping his eyes on the road, "maybe it'll help...?"

"Uhm," Leo gulped down when he tried to answer, only to feel his stomach rocket up his throat. He felt cold sweat start to collect over his upper lip, glueing the baby hairs to his nape, "god..."

"Do you want me to pull over?" Jonah sounded every bit as if Leo had told him they'd need to put down the family dog. Leo ignored him, pulling his hand from Jon's hold and grabbing at the plastic bag, bringing it up to his mouth.

Vaguely he could hear his boyfriend saying something else, but Leo ignored him, spitting inside the bag. His mouth felt terrible. He had eaten risotto for lunch and the next weak heave was just spit and some fucking grains that got stuck in his throat and caused him to gag loudly.

The car swerved and Leo groaned, planting a sweaty hand to the dashboard as he felt his head swim. With the bag half open, Leo let out a sick burp, that turned frothy and disgusting at the end-

"Here," Jonah grabbed the other side of the bag since he had let go and moved it up to Leo's mouth, "I got you-"

"Gon'besick," Leo slurred, "pullovr," his words were sticking together, eyes tearing up as yet another wave of hot nausea washed over him, causing his stomach to clench again, "Jon pull over-"

"I did, baby," Jonah's soft hand suddenly was on his forehead, helping Leo support it, and the blonde leaned heavily against the touch, gagging again, "deep breaths, this will pass ina moment."

He forced a breath through his nose, straightening up and dizzily grabbing the door handle, pushing it open.

"Leo, wait-" Jon said, but it was to no avail, as the other man stumbled out of the car and immediately fell down on his knees on the grass, heaving and bringing up a gush of vomit all over the grass.

"God-" Leo whined, coughing to clear up his throat and wiping at the micro tears that had slipped out. His stomach still felt uneasy, but puking had helped some, so had standing on the ground and no longer feeling claustrophobic inside the car. He forced up a burp and it brought up a little dribble of spit and liquidy vomit, then Leo fell back on his heels, startling when his back met Jonah's arms.

"I got you," his boyfriend said, sounding terribly worried and guilty, "you done?"

"Think- think so," Leo interrupted himself with a sour burp and shivered at the taste, "help me up."

Jonah didn't need to be told twice. Now getting a better bearing of their surroundings, Leo could tell his boyfriend was pale as well, how much was sympathy nausea, how much was his nervous stomach Leo didn't know.

"You good?" He rasped, as Jon helped him towards the car. Instead of going inside, Leo collapsed against the hood and happily took the water bottle Jonah retrieved from the backseat.

"If I'm good?" Jon scoffed, stepping aside so Leo could swirl the water in his mouth and spit it on the grass. At least the headlights were not illuminating the mess on the ground just a couple feet ahead, "I'm fucking peachy, you're the one puking."

"I'm okay," Leo rubbed a hand over his stomach, pressing on it and bringing up a little burp that he blew out under his breath, "just give me a minute."

"I'm really sorry," Jonah sighed, stepping closer, "do you wanna lie in the back? Or I can drop you at the nearest gas station, then grab the meds in the rest stop and com-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Leo rolled his eyes, leaning in and planting his forehead to Jon's shoulder, "really, it's just carsickness, it's not like I'm dying. Give me a minute."

Jonah let out a scoff, but hugged him closer, planting a hand on Leo's back and rubbing up and down, "I'm sorry-"

"Please, shut up about it," Leo whined, sinking into Jon's warmth and trying to gather up courage to get back inside the car, "it's fine."

He could almost hear Jon's retort, but at least he didn't say it out loud.

Leo breathed in, measuredly, until the nausea receeded almost completely. He wasn't looking forward to the next hour until the stop, but at least it was just one more hour or so.

He straightened up, "switch with me, let me drive."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Leo nodded, "and stop kicking yourself over it, it's fine."

"I'll make it up to you," Jonah promised, getting in the passenger side. Leo got in the driver one, fiddling with the seat.

"Oh, yeah, you better. I want breakfast in bed tomorrow morning," he teased lightly, even if the mere thought of food made his stomach churn.

Jon opened a relieved smile at the teasing, "deal, breakfast and head, how about?"

"Sounds lovely," Leo snorted, starting up the car.

[suchusoid]

Where are all the vigilantes

Has anyone else noticed the lack of viglantes in mha?(excluding the vigilantes spin off manga) Like, the only characters in the main series that count vigilantes are gentle, la brava, and stain. With the former two being thieves who want to be famous, and the latter being a goddamn serial killer. Izuku briefly acts as a vigilante but then goes right back to ua after his "friends" beat him down... oops I mean "Help" him. So I've decided to take matters into my own hands and create a vigilante oc myself. Everyone give a warm welcome to Hachurui Waniguchi.

alias: herpeton

Quirk: herpetile

Quirk description: herpetile gives the user the features and abilties of a wide assortment of amphibians and non avian reptiles. This can range from herculean strength(herpeton is about as strong as spider man and the lizard), and atomic grip, a speed of 830 mph, wall crawling, steel crushing jaws, venomous spines, highly enhanced senses, extra senses, walking on water, breathing underwater, a super long prehensile tongue, gliding, cat like reflexes, high jumping, super regeneration, extreme durability, protective mucous barrier, pheromone induced telepathy to towards any tetrapod, a long tail, sonic croaking, high pain tolerance, cloaking, and a flexible body.

Even with his smorgasbord of abilities, herpeton does have some weakness, such as the cold, pungent odors, electricity, and vibrational attacks like sound or shockwaves.

Backstory: Hachurui was shojis best since kindergarten and the two have been like brotgers ever since. Hachurui was the son of kyoryu and ogama waniguchi, who were famous mutant rights activists. Unfortunately, his life changed when an anti mutant mob led by the villain dreadknight. Hachurui managed to escape but his parents weren't so lucky. Fleeing to the big city, rui was feared for his animalistic appearance and quadrupedal locamotion. Eventually he switched walking on two legs more often and pulled his tail in like a turtle to appear at least somewhat human. One night he came across two thugs mugging an old man. Using his monsterous appearance he scared away the crooks and helped to old man home. Turns out this man was Icarus pipistrello, who belonged to a long line of quirkless vigilantes that have been serving up justice sinced before quirks even existed. Icarus adopted rui as his son and through his mentorship, became the terrific herpeton. Now he attends ua as a gen ed student with his more humanoid form, and in his spare time he takes his more animalistic form as the vigilante herpeton. But it seems a certain sidekick-turned-president-of-the-HPSC wants him out of the picture, lest he tear down the illusion of hero society he had worked so hard to maintain.

Well what do you guys think? I'm thinking of using this as a baseline for an au I've brainstormed. It will have changed from canon like bakugou never getting into ua, all for one being dead 6 years prior, all might already retiring at the start due to a crippling injury, sir nighteye being the head of the hpsc, the league of villains never forming, etc.

[writeouswriter]

pls no anti ai art demagogy on my dash, thx

(X) in reference to this reblog I assume.

This is the wildest ask I’ve ever gotten.

“Please no love for the humanity of creation on my dash, please. Please no acknowledgement that art and the human experience behind those making it is inherently and fundamentally intertwined. Please no shoving the fact in my face that art is meant to connect rather than consume.

And please no pointing out the basic truth that most AI engines are built off the stolen work of others.”

Demagogy, noun: political activity or practices that seek support by appealing to the desires and prejudices of ordinary people rather than by using rational argument.

You come into MY house, you tell me what not to reblog on MY blog, and you what? Call me “irrational” and insult my understanding of the topic in the process?

Political activity, political activity... fuck off. Actors, writers, artists, those most affected by this ARE the ordinary people, and their concerns and fears surrounding this are perfectly rational.

And you know, nothing hits it home more for me than when I thought about my favourite show at the moment, the one that makes me lose my mind a thousand times over, I thought about everything in it that makes me tick, thought about both strong points and weak points, because it is flawed, god, is it flawed because people inherently are, and that’s the beauty, but mostly, I thought about the sheer amount of care/thought and depth put into it in a way I've never really seen before and in a medium/genre/whatever you'd absolutely never expect to find that thought put into, especially if taken completely at a surface level. Thought about the levels of metaphor and symbolism layered in beneath the silliness, thought about the callbacks and clever timing, thought about the behind the scenes arguments about what direction worked best for the narrative and the audience, arguments that took place because of how much they cared not just about telling a good story, but about telling one that really means something to them.

Thought about the love, the time, the excitement and the flair and personality and background and intent of each and every person behind the team bleeding its way into the scripts, into the acting, into the heart of what makes it truly what it is, and how that love bleeds into the audience as well, how that love and human connection is what prompts people to write full page essays and analyses on it, draw fanart for it, create the most beautiful fics for it, that love is what prompts them to laugh and cry and vibrate at the speed of sound thinking about it, and what prompts thousands upon thousands to come together in their appreciation for and relation to it, rallying around it like a group of cavemen around a campfire when they had never before seen the flame.

And then.... then I thought about the idea of that same show being written by an AI and genuinely felt physically ill. Because no real care will have been put into that beyond "If it looks like a TV show, sounds like a TV show, it must be a TV show." And on the surface, maybe it’d look fine, I’m sure some people wouldn’t notice. But it’d not only be made without thought, but consumed without thought. And, sure, maybe that'll fill you up in the short term, but it's gonna leave you feeling hollow and sick eventually. Because stories are not a thing to be mass produced with a random assortment of the cheapest quality materials on a conveyor belt that shovels them directly into people's throats at the most efficient speed possible, stories are not a thing meant to just be consumed! They are a thing made with intent in every aspect, even when accidental because our lives shape it subconsciously, they are a thing made with love, a thing to be savoured! And yes, for that to happen, they will take a lot of time and hard work and dedication, all of which deserve fair compensation and respect, all of which cannot just be replaced by a sham amalgamation of these things, and they will be all the better for it.

And on some level, corporations know this, and they want you to blame their shortcomings on the writers, on the artists, they want you to look at things like the strikes and those rallying against AI and get mad that they’re keeping art from the common people, or forcing them to come to this, or they want you to think they’re simply trying to make art more accessible, all the while building their conveyor belts in the background with the blood of those they’re kicking down, taking away jobs and shoving the humanity out of the picture.

Art is made to communicate, and sometimes it’s frustrating when we can’t get that communication across, when the image we want to convey is out of our skill level, our capability, when our words get tangled up, jumbled together and we need a helping hand to find the right ones again, and on this level, maybe AI could be a useful supplemental tool, or a fun little thing to mess around with, if ethically sourced, if used for good, if taking into account and graciously acknowledging exactly how it’s being used as a tool, rather than trying to pass it off as something it’s not.

But is it political, is it irrational, to merely state that the human condition cannot be replaced?

——

The unfollow button is free, I don’t work for you.

[hadeslegacyhephgirl]

Don't leave me

'Nico's fading!' Will shot up from his desk and ran outside toward the shout. 'WHAT?!' Kayla raced up to him 'Will, thank the gods! We've been looking all over for you - Nico's fading - it's bad -'

Will didn't hear any more and his body had taken over before he knew what was happening, he'd found Nico, pushing through the crowds surrounding the Ghost King and collapsing at is hide, a healing hymn already at his lips, surveying the damage.

Nico was smoky - a literal shadow. His lips were blue, his skin paler that normal and all the grass around him was dead and withering as waves of pure death and darkness radiated off him.

'Where's Coach Hedge? Reyna?'

'Coach Hedge is away with his family - and we haven't been able to reach Reyna'

Will growled and whipped out his own phone (One of Leo's anti-monster one) and dialled Reyna's emergency number. She picked up after three agonising rings

'Hello?' 'Reyna?' "Yeah?' "Oh, thank the gods. This is Will Solace - Nico's fading - bad-' 'Say no more - I'll be there in one minute. Keep him alive!' 'I'm trying!'

Reyna hung up, and, as promised, arrived in exactly 53 seconds (yes, Will counted) with a flask that Will assumed was the Unicorn Draught

Reyna set to work, and after an agonising 3 minutes and 23 seconds, in which Will had basically destroyed his nails by chewing them, Reyna stood to reveal a still-unconsious but solid Nico.

Will immediately grabbed Nico's shoulder, humming a healing hymn, interrupting himself every so often to whisper a plea

'Stay with me, Nico, come on, please, stay with me'

Eventually, at late evening, Will just couldn't keep going. He was exhausted, tears streaking down his face as he repeated the plea one final time

'Stay with me, Nico, please'

Will closed his eyes, utterly spent, tear tracks drying on his skin.

Then someone grabbed his hand

The persons hand was cold, and small.

Will opened his eyes.

Nico's eyes were open, his lips open to whisper one word

'Always'

It was the most beautiful word Will had ever heard. The shadows were twisting and curling around them. Will quickly turned on his glowing ability.

'No, no shadows for you!'

Then, unable to contain his joy any longer, he pulled the smaller boy into a hug, laying down, Nico on top (they were both exhausted. Let 'em live). Will didn't feel Nico's hands on his face until Nico was kissing him.

(Btw - pre solangelo! First kiss!)

Will was so surprised that he nearly forgot to kiss Nico back, but he did and gods it was the best thing ever.

Nico's lips were soft and chapped, tasting of pomegranite and a slight bit of blood. Will loved it.

Eventually Nico pulled back with a simple

'That was the best welcome back I've ever had' "And hopefully its the last one you need' 'I dunno. If it made you kiss me like that-' 'Then I shall never do so again. You know what this means deathboy-' 'Three days in the infirmary, I know, I know.'

Nico rested his head on Wills chest as the sun set on the horizon.

'I don't want to move'

Will grinned. He loved the soft, sleepy side of Nico.

'Fine. Just this once I can carry you'

Nico hummed, sending vibrations into Wills chest. Will manouvered them so he could stand up, carrying Nico bridal-style to the infirmay, to the bunk unofficially always cleared for Nico. Will laid Nico down and turned to leave. Nico grabbed his hand

'Stay?'

Will grinned

'How could I say no to my favourite patient?' "Mm your cutest patient' "That too'

'I wan't big spoon' "Fiiiiiine' Will flopped onto the bed, allowing Nico to wind his small body around his bigger one. Nico fell asleep quickly, his soft deep breathes sending Will running toward Morpheos himself.

~*~

That night the night-watch, Kayla, peeked into the curtain surrounding Nico's cot and smiled at the soft scene of Nico and Will snuggled close together, smiles on both sleeping faces

[tracybirds]

FFF entry for Scott, riff off the prompt "quiet" aka give Scott some!thank you @gumnut-logic for both the prompts and the readthrough :)

Scott massaged his forehead, fingers moving without thought to the pressure points that would relieve the building tension. It was already too late, the headache blooming behind his eyes, and he leaned back with an involuntary groan.

“It’s too early for this,” he whispered to himself, the words half an admonishment and half coaxing him upright. “Come on, Tracy, keep going. Only…”

A glance at his watch sent Scott’s heart sinking.

He slumped forward, cradling his head in his hands, wondering if it was too late to call off the company address.

A shadow fell across the desk.

“Hey.”

It was all Scott could do not to flinch away from the sound.

There was a beat of blissful silence, before he heard the soft rustle of his brother crouching next to him.

“Scott, you don’t need to stay for this,” said John, his voice pitched low. “I was just coming to say goodbye, come back with us.”

Scott let loose a chuckle. “John, I think an eight hour flight with Gordon and Alan might actually kill me.”

“You could hide in the cockpit,” offered John, with a small smile.

Scott shook his head, closing his eyes against the wooziness.

“’M alright, Johnny,” he said. “Just need some quiet.”

“And a nap.”

“At nine in the morning?”

John shrugged. “Never stopped me. Are you saying you don’t want to go back to bed?”

“Yeah,” agreed Scott amiably. “I could sleep for a year still.”

His eyes stayed closed as John clasped his shoulder, the vibration shaking him down to his bones as John stood and moved into the other room.

Cupboards shut with muffled bangs and the tell-tale rattle of John rifling through the first-aid kit filled Scott’s ears and mind, too far gone to focus on anything other than immediate sensation.

With a great effort, Scott pulled himself to his feet, his muscles protesting their role in holding him upright against the immense weight of his own limbs.

“Here,” said John, handing him a glass of water and some pills. “Painkillers and anti-nausea. You’ll need it for the flight.”

“I’m not getting on the plane,” mumbled Scott. “I have to stay here.”

“They don’t need you,” said John.

The bluntness sent Scott reeling but before he could string together an objection John spoke again, his soft voice refusing all argument.

“You said you’d do it different to Dad.”

Scott’s gaze sharpened, the quick of his breath and the blood pumping waking his body faster than any medication.

“Dad did his best.”

“He did,” agreed John.

What John didn’t say meant almost as much as what he did say, but Scott didn’t have the capacity to puzzle out his meaning.

A vein pulsed in his temple, a dull pain echoing between his ears.

“Alright, I’ll come,” he said, reaching for John.

John slung Scott’s arm around his shoulder.

“Glad to have you."

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

Eri!!! 🖤 https://www.tumblr.com/ghosttownwherenoonegoes/718476780121505792/in-honour-of-the-1st-year-anniversirywith-our-baby?source=share

I'll get my new sideline uniform for cheer next week because the season starts and...maybe Eddie reacting to that? Or accompanying me to cheer for me while I'm cheering? That's the dream 🖤

The cheerleader's cheerleader

Kiki!!🥰✨Okay, so I thought long and hard about this request, what to write and how to write it, and I think I finally got something worthy of the person who not only introduced me to Eddie Munson, but also coaxed me into watching Stranger Things and therefore introduced me to a comfort character and a comfort show in one hit!!💗I hope that you enjoy this. I did a lot of research on cheer; watched some videos, studied your DMs and tried to incorporate everything that I could, and I did my bestest!!! Thank you for everything, Kiki, you made this fandom my home and I'm so grateful for everything.🫂

Word count: 1, 150.

(It had to be this GIF, it had to be.🤣🥺My heart is aching, I miss him so much.💔)

SOME physical description given; reader is a flyer so they are explicitly described as being small. Kiki was absolutely in mind 100% when I wrote this so it’s very tailored to her. I hope others can enjoy it, though.

You had been quietly and impatiently waiting for your sideline uniform to be sent to you through the post; the cheerleading season started soon and that was all you were waiting on for your position as a flyer to become official. Somehow, the experience of getting to go back into cheerleading and your corresponding emotions became more real once you had the uniform in your hands, adorable hair ribbons included.

It was supposed to arrive this week and you couldn't have been more pleased, excited and nervous if you had tried. Eddie, if it was possible, was even more of everything than you were. The sweet boy was like a sponge, soaking up the atmosphere around you as you seemed almost to vibrate whenever you sat or stood still for an extended period of time. You reminded Eddie - and Uncle Wayne, when the plant let him have a rare night off - of himself, when he was in the throes of planning a new campaign. He would giggle to himself as he made contingency plans of contingency plans, come up with creative ways for his sheep's characters to get themselves out of the stick situations he threw them into, a shepherd tending to his flock even as he tortured them just a little, just enough to get them squirming in their seats and whispering wishes into hands cupped around many sided dice. He was a sadistic Dungeon Master and yet he experienced genuine happiness and excitement when he was bested, proud of his sheep and of his Hellfire boys.

And you, oh, you were a live wire. Cheer was the only sports you had ever enjoyed. It was one of your true callings in life, you could feel it deep in your bones. You had been given the position of a flyer due to your physical stature; you were small which meant that you could do backflips in the air, reach the top of the pyramid, be thrown around and receive the attention and admiration of an entire crowd of people. It was incredibly difficult, and it was a sport which Eddie had a lot of respect for. He never included cheerleaders in his anti-conformity canteen-table rants for a reason and that was because it was genuinely hard to be a cheerleader. It required so much practice, determination, passion and trust in the other cheerleaders. But shit like bastketball? Toss a ball into a basket and that was the extent of it... Eddie had no respect for that. None at all. Jocks weren't worth it, but cheerleaders? Eddie admired them.

You loved the thrill of being up in the air, of feeling the wind in your hair and seeing the gymnasium from an angle very few got to. It gave you an adrenaline high like nothing else, and Eddie loved the spark it put in your eyes.

"Hey, sweetheart?" Eddie came bounding around the corner of his bedroom, his dark curls brushing against the tops of his shoulders and his chocolate eyes soft with love for you. He was holding a package in his hands and you knew just from the smirk of your face what he was bringing you. "Look what I've got ~ " the gleeful sing song of his voice made you grin, the expression infectious as Eddie couldn't keep his own off his face. Oh, but you two were always feeding off each other's emotions and making any moment even more special between the two of you. You were so very similar, in many ways.

You loved cheer, you loved it, and you needed no prompting at all from Eddie to grab the package as you tore it open and your eyes consumed the first sight of your uniform, as your hands felt the material for the first time; tougher than usual thanks to the factory starch which was always put onto new clothes. Eddie's smile was still almost as wide as his face, threatening to split his cheeks in two as he watched you. You were so happy, squealing and expressing your excitement so viscerally that you weren't even fully aware of yourself, and the sweet man was simply enjoying your happiness and deriving his own from it. If you were the sunshine, then Eddie was the tallest sunflower, following you wherever you went for the pleasure of your warmth across his face.

"Go try it on, babe, go on," The upward lilt of Eddie's voice sounded a lot like when he was goading his sheep to make a decision during a tense moment in a campaign, and you were gone like a bullet from a gun, leaving Eddie staring after you with an ache in his chest.

When had the Dungeon Master become the cheerleader's cheerleader?

Thankfully, your unform fit with no problems and days passed, until finally, finally, it was the first day of the season. If Eddie had thought that you were excited before, when you received your uniform in the post, then it had nothing on what you were feeling right now. You had your feet firmly on the ground and yet it felt like you were already on the top of the pyramid, your lungs burning in your chest, your body working hard to keep you steady atop the others, your adrenaline high even higher than you. You were on cloud nine and Eddie was right there beside you, his hand tightly in yours, fingers interlocked.

"So, sweetheart," Eddie tooks his keys out of the ignition and turned to smirk at you, his hands reaching out in opposite directions; one sliding up from your knee where it had rested to wrap around your wrist, and the other grasping for the door handle. You should have known that what it looked like Eddie was doing, wasn't what he had planned. "You ready to do that, y'know," he mimed a very weak, silly imitation of cheerleading to make you giggle, "thing you do?"

Your voice was saturated with sunshine and laughter as you said, "you coming with me? That'd be a dream, Eddie." You cracked the passenger side door open but remained in your seat, wanting every second right beside Eddie. Oh, but you loved him so much that it put a solid ache in your chest.

Eddie leaned over the console between your seats to give you a lingering, tender kiss to your forehead as he murmured, "I wouldn't wanna be anywhere else. I promise." Something shifted in his chest as he said that. Something clicked into place for him, just as it had for you the day that you had signed up for cheer once again. Eddie remembered a few days ago when he had asked himself to recall when the Dungeon Master had also become the cheerleader's cheerleader?

But now he knew the answer. He could feel it in his bones...

... It was the day he had fallen in love with you.

[armpirate]

Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 38

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy. 

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 17 minutes

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Y/n sat at her desk, eyes glazed over as the bright glow of her laptop screen illuminated the light newsroom. The cursor blinked at her mockingly on a blank page titled: "The Best Parks for Weekend Picnics".

Parks for picnics, she thought with a sigh, dragging a hand down her face. How am I supposed to write about picnics when my entire life is falling apart?

She hadn't responded to Jungkook's texts all day. She couldn't. Every time she heard her phone vibrate, her chest tightened, and her heart started racing. She couldn't face him -not yet. Not after what she had found in his office. The days that followed consisted of her checking through her peephole whether he was near her door just so she'd be able to escape without having to face him.

A noise from across the room startled her, making her jump slightly. She glanced up, only to see Jackie standing at the edge of the cubicle, arms crossed, watching her with a look that screamed "I'm worried".

—You okay? —Jackie asked, stepping closer.

—Yeah —Y/n swallowed hard, forcing a smile—. Just... trying to focus.

—Y/n, you've been sitting in front of that laptop for hours —Jackie raised an eyebrow, unimpressed—, and you haven't written a single word.

Y/n opened her mouth to protest but realized her friend was right. She hadn't written anything. She couldn't. Her thoughts were stuck in a whirlwind of Jungkook, her brother, and the revelation that had shattered the fragile trust they'd built. How could she even begin to concentrate?

—I'm fine, seriously —she muttered, turning back to her screen—. Just a lot on my mind.

Jackie didn't budge. Instead, she walked over and perched herself on the edge of Y/n's desk, eyeing her closely.

—Is this about Jungkook?

Y/n stiffened at the mention of Jungkook, biting her lip to keep from reacting. Of course, Jackie had figured it out. She was sharp, and Y/n had been anything but subtle. She'd been a mess ever since that day at the gym.

—Look —Jackie continued, her tone softer now—, whatever's going on, it's eating you alive. You need to deal with it, because this —she gestured at the screen— isn't helping. Avoiding the guy isn't going to solve anything.

—I'm not avoiding him —Y/n lied quickly.

—Sure —Jackie gave her a knowing look—. And I'm the Queen of England.

Ever since their argument, Jungkook had been waiting in front of the building, with a clear distressed look on his face while he hopefully checked on every person who walked out the door. Jackie had seen him a few times that week, while also knowing that Y/n was staying in the office longer than usual. Or, at least, longer than she stayed ever since she started being serious about Jungkook.

It didn't take her older coworker too much thought to understand what was going on between them.

—I just... —Y/n let out a frustrated sigh, slumping back in her chair— I don't know what to do. It's complicated.

—Complicated how?

She trusted a person she shouldn't have trusted. She should've listened to her inner self when she kept telling herself Jungkook was bad news. Yet she decided to give him a chance, to try and see through that first impression she got of him, because he was offering her a safe space that she craved and needed.

—We are giving each other some space —she finally said.

—Does your boyfriend know about its meaning or am I missing something?

She knew about his visits the first day Alma came up joking about him showing up, but they received no response other than how she was spending the night there until late. That first night she expected Jungkook to be sitting by her door, or waiting in his place for her to come, but he didn't show up, he didn't insist.

And she was glad he didn't put her in such a tough position.

—Why don't we go out for a drink? —she suggested, trying to set her free from the office— I bet alcohol will work great to get you to roll your tongue.

—Jacks...

—I was kidding. But it'll help you to disconnect —she assured her—. Whatever happened between you two... Going from home to the office and vice versa won't give you the break you need. I promise you —she arched her eyebrows, trying to insist—. You don't even have to drink, you can get a milkshake if you like.

That comment stole a smirk from Y/n, while also rolling her eyes. She agreed with her friend, it'd definitely work to let her mind rest from everything that was just building up noise.

As Jackie left, Y/n turned back to her laptop, the cursor still blinking at her like a ticking time bomb. She rubbed her temples and sighed, her thoughts drifting back to Jungkook. She could still feel the weight of his arms around her from that day, the way he had kissed her before everything had spiraled out of control.

"Y/n, we need to talk. Please."

She couldn't focus, not here, not anywhere. And no matter how hard she tried to push it all aside, the truth gnawed at her insides.

Her phone buzzed again right when she was about to put it inside her bag. She looked once more, sure and hopeful it was Jungkook, only to come across an unknown number.

"If you want answers, come to 12th and Michigan. The bar's called 'The Blue Rose.'. I'll be there at eight"

She frowned, sitting up straighter. No name, no explanation, just an address and a promise of answers. Everything about it screamed "danger," but she was too deep in this mess to ignore it. If there was a chance it could lead her to more information about her brother... Well, she couldn't let it pass. And she was far too upset with Jungkook to even think of telling him.

Fine, she thought.

—Jacks, we'll have to leave that drink for another day —she let her friend know, when she walked behind her to head to one of the offices at the back.

—Better plans?

—Not better, but something came up —he let her know—. I'll make up to you.

Minutes passed lower once she was looking forward to leaving the office, almost causing her to lose her patience until the time of the meeting finally got closer enough.

The bar was dimly lit, with the scent of stale beer and the low hum of conversation filling the air. Y/n stepped inside cautiously, scanning the room for anything that seemed out of place, until her eyes landed on a young woman sitting alone at a corner table. The woman looked up at her and gave a small, hesitant wave.

—You sent the text? —Y/n frowned, walking over to her.

The woman nodded, motioning for her to sit down. Up close, Y/n could see that her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying recently, but her posture remained composed.

—You already know my name —she let her know—, but I'll say it anyway. I'm Elia. I was Noah's girlfriend.

Y/n's breathing was blocked by the knot in her throat as she looked at the woman in front of her, looking around for any sign that let her know that was all an act.

—Will you sit? Or will you keep looking around for ghosts?

Y/n's lips were pressed tight against each other as she sat in front of Elia, before she gestured towards the waiter to ask for the same drink she was having.

—Noah talked a lot about you —she finally said—. He talked a lot about your family, but especially about you.

Her heart skipped a bit just about the idea of her brother speaking highly of her, making her smile shyly when she finally got her beer.

—Is your mother still with Mitchell?

—Yeah —she chuckled—. They're so perfect for each other it's scary.

—I'm glad to hear Hannah didn't get in between that —after Y/n dedicated her a confused look, Elia felt forced to explain herself—. Noah told me she fought several times with Mitchell because of how supportive he was about his boxing.

—She's convinced Noah would've given up on it if everyone had told him to stop —she smirked—. No one knew he was doing illegal fights until that night, yet Hannah always managed to blame Mitchell for it.

—Your brother didn't only die because of how brutal the fight was —she murmured.

—I know he had heart issues —Y/n interrupted her before Elia could continue.

—I just want you to know he didn't want to keep it from you. He just... Your mother was happy again, you were almost finishing your degree, and he didn't want anyone to know he was stuck in that dark place still. When he learnt one of the fights caused him... well, he thought of retiring. But as much as he wanted to, he needed to pay for the treatment, and he could only do it if he kept boxing.

Y/n's eyes started watering as she started hearing more of the story, feeling forced to look away to hide the fact of how much that story impacted her. It'd have been so different if she had been able to read through her brother's actions and attitudes, if she hadn't been so centered in herself... she probably would've noticed something was wrong. And... maybe... Noah would still be alive, because she for sure wouldn't have let him get on that ring.

—Why are you telling me this now?

—I know what you've been doing these past few months —Elia admitted, glancing around before leaning closer—. And, let's say I've been helping you. I was the source of the source of your source, I dropped the leads for you to follow, I was the one who sent the bag...

—Why didn't you just come to come directly?

—I had to stay in the background. I really thought of meeting you and introducing myself —Elia confessed, her gaze dropping to the table—. But I didn't know how. After he died, everything got so messy. And... I didn't know who to trust. Not even you, at first. I wanted to see what you'd do with the information.

—You thought I was going to go to the police and relate you to all that shit?

—More like sending me to Alessandro and Elijah.

Y/n stared at her, processing the weight of Elia's words. Her brother had kept this part of his life hidden from everyone, and now this woman -that stranger- was sitting in front of her, having helped her navigate an investigation she barely had control over.

—I still don't understand —Y/n said slowly—. Why now?

—It just felt right to let you know —she shrugged— And I'm sure Noah would've wanted me to meet you sooner rather than later.

The silence between them was tense, heavy with unsaid things. Y/n leaned back, trying to wrap her head around it all.

—How did you know about me, first of all? —Y/n questioned.

—Jason told me you wouldn't give up on knowing about your brother's death, so I decided to step in before things got serious for you.

—How nice of Jason to air out my business —she mumbled between her teeth—. Well, good news for you, you don't need to keep giving me breadcrumbs on what happened to my brother, because I already know. Jungkook was the one behind the fight, so that's all I needed to know.

Y/n blinked, confused at Elia's attitude when she just chuckled at her answer, taking a sip of her beer. Her brother's girlfriend didn't blame her for acting that way, or assuming things she didn't quite know. To be fair, it was surprising how much of Noah she could see right in front of her eyes while looking at her.

—I kept guiding you to Jungkook because Jungkook had the information, not because I wanted you to catch him lying. You think it's that simple? —she tilted her head— Jungkook just agreed on Noah going there, but everyone knew he had no say in what happened. First of all, his gym was in such a poor state that he'd have needed to send anyone they asked just to get the money they offered. Second of all, once Rossi had his eye on someone, he wouldn't stop until getting them. He wanted Jungkook, but he was injured, and he barely stepped in the gym during that time, so the next target was Noah. Ever heard of the line of 21?

Y/n had heard of that before, but she didn't quite know what it was about, because her focus was on so many things at the same time, that she forgot about those small details.

Slowly, she shook her head.

—Noah, Jungkook and another boxer were part of it, although Noah didn't tell me much about him. Bets went crazy whenever their names were on those polls. The title is simple, they all were twenty one when they all trained in the same gym. Noah was a beast, bloodthirsty even. And Jungkook was the closest to a death machine. So what could you get when you put them together? He almost killed Noah that night, but he stopped, despite Noah getting up time and time again. Jungkook stepped back for a long while after that, he was only limited to training. I know he switched gyms... And I wish Noah had done the same —she sighed—. Your brother looked for somewhere to train when the gym he trained in went bankrupt after Jungkook left and after the other boxer suffered a coma. Noah needed the money, he even fought in fights that weren't arranged, so when Elijah reached out for him for that fight... He didn't even ask Jungkook before accepting —Elia's lips twisted when remembering the news.

Y/n's thumbs kept fidgeting over the table, making some sense out of all the times she wondered why Jungkook was so adamant on not letting his trainees fight for him. Now she understood why.

—The only thing I can blame Jungkook for is how he didn't show up to check on how he was. He didn't show his face, not even once —Elia's voice cracked—. But the real people, the ones putting needy people in danger, are still out there living life as if they weren't behind all of these crimes.

Y/n exhaled slowly, her mind swirling with everything Elia had just revealed. The answers felt closer now, but so did the danger. And now, she had to figure out how Jungkook fit into all of this -and what she was going to do next.

The bar was dimly lit, with neon lights flickering over the weathered wood, and the low hum of chatter surrounded the place. Jungkook sat slumped at the bar, one hand loosely holding a whiskey glass, his third one in less than an hour. Across from him, Jimin watched with mild concern, his beer untouched as Jungkook swirled his drink and sighed.

—She hates me —Jungkook muttered, rubbing a hand over his face—. She found the file, the one on her brother. The minute she saw it... I could see the way she looked at me change. I didn't even have time to think of an explanation before she found it.

—What explanation? —Jimin frowned, leaning back in his seat— You should've told her as soon as you found out, but I bet you acted like nothing happened —with Jungkook's click of tongue, he knew he was right—. Did you try to explain yourself after she found out?

—No —Jungkook answered, his voice bitter—. I didn't get the chance. She just stormed out, and now... now she's avoiding me at every damn turn. I've been so used to not having to give any explanations, that I fucked it up at the first need of giving one —he mumbled, taking the last sip before emptying his glass.

—Maybe she just needs time —Jimin gave him a sympathetic look—. It's like a bomb being dropped on her, Jungkook. She's gonna need time to process that, especially with how much this affects her.

—I don't know —Jungkook shook his head, laughing dryly—. It's more than that. This thing... I bet she thinks I just kept it in the dark because I wanted to keep fucking her, but it's more than that. I kept it in the dark because I was so fucking scared of losing her, that I didn't realize my silence would only push her further.

—It's nice to see you're human —Jimin tried to cheer him up—. Trust me, she needs time.

—You have no idea how stubborn she is —Jungkook's lips twisted, before he turned to a waiter to ask for another round—. Once something gets in her head...

—Sounds like someone I know —Jimin took a sip of his beer, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook shot him a glare, but Jimin just chuckled. The alcohol was starting to hit Jungkook hard now, loosening his tongue in ways it never would have otherwise. His voice was more slurred than before, his thoughts spilling out.

—She was so perfect for me. Too perfect to be true. And I messed it all up —Jungkook muttered, frustration boiling to the surface—. I can't stand knowing it was all my fault. I can't blame anyone else —he ran a hand through his head, moving his bangs back—. Her looks keep hunting me, every time I think of her, and I hate myself for putting her through that. It was hard enough when I knew that guy was critical, but after learning I guided him to his death. Fuck, I killed her brother. How is she going to ever forgive that?

—Jungkook, you were just getting started, you weren't in a good condition after retiring. And you know you had no say in that boy's decision once Elijah contacted him.

—I could've tried to stop him if I had cared.

—No, you wouldn't have gotten anything —Jimin insisted—. We all know you're in those fights, Y/n's brother is no exception. If he needed the money, nothing you could've said or done would've stopped him. If you hadn't agreed, he would've gone to a different gym and fought in their name.

During those few minutes of silence, Jungkook's leg shook constantly under the table while he tried to think of everything that happened during that time, only coming up with blurry memories that made him wonder... How many people did he send to those fights without looking into those cases, before he chose to fight himself?

—Those big names are the only ones to blame, and should be the only ones to pay —Jimin muttered—. They're the only ones who should suffer being hunted by their consciences, but I bet they're more than calm rolling over their fresh cash.

Jimin was right. Gym owners were to blame, he still had no excuse by the way he barely glanced at Noah's history, but Alessandro Rossi took advantage of those people's needs to get more and more money. Not only Noah would've probably fought either way, but Jungkook would've probably found his establishment ripped to shreds by the next morning.

That was how they worked.

If there was a way he could redeem himself, it was definitely exposing all of them.

—Hey, hey —Jimin tried to stop him after Jungkook downed his drink in one go.

The glass slammed down on the table, the loud thunk punctuating his next words:

—I'm gonna fix it all. Somehow. This shit will keep going if we keep going after the wrong people. You're right, those big names are the ones that need to pay —Jimin tilted his head, confused at how that was linking to his statement on fixing the issue—. I'll get them at their own game.

—What are you thinking? —Jimin narrowed his eyes.

Jungkook's lips curled into a half-smile, his mind racing with an idea that was both dangerous and reckless, but something that might just work.

—Rossi —he said slowly, letting his name hang in the air for a few seconds—. I was invited to the Union Stockyards.

Jimin remembered that and how surprised he was at Jungkook declined the chance of finally setting himself in a better position, although it made sense for him when his friend mentioned Y/n, and how he didn't want her to worry.

The best fighters went there. The first time Jungkook was invited it was before he retired, keeping it low, and sticking himself to small fights, until he was once again offered with that chance. Not only the money was important, but also the possibility of catching a talent scout's eye was the biggest it'd ever be for him.

But Jimin knew Jungkook wasn't considering participating because of the money or the promise of a better future. And, deep inside, Jungkook knew he wasn't doing it to expose Rossi. He was doing it for Y/n, because he wanted to give her what she wanted and he wanted to prove he wasn't on the wrong side of the story anymore.

—You're not thinking of...

—I am —he cut in, voice resolute—. I'm gonna participate. Only inside I'll be able to look close enough. Top level fighters get to coddle up with those big names you said. And after I get that evidence, I'll snoop to the police and get their asses.

Jimin looked at him like he was crazy, and maybe he was.

—Look, I know you're a good boxer, but those fighters are brutal —he tried to make him think twice—. Shit, this could backfire in so many ways...

—I've been in worse fights —he shrugged, the alcohol making him more confident than he should be.

—But is it really worth it? —Jimin frowned, leaning forward— Doing all of this, putting yourself on the line... just for her and an argument that could be done by next week?

Yes.

—It's not just about her.

He clearly lied. If it hadn't been about her, he most definitely wouldn't have been aware of all his mistakes.

Jungkook's smile faded, and for a moment, he was quiet. He glanced down at his empty glass before speaking again, his voice softer, more raw.

—It's about finding justice. It's about Noah, it's about me... It's about rich people using poverty to come up with new entertainment for them.

For the first time, Jimin smiled at hearing such a crazy idea. His smirk was wide and deep, ready to get on board with whatever Jungkook was planning to do.

—Sounds like you'll have some training to do until the weekend.

Jungkook nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure if he was ready for what was coming. But one thing was certain: if this fight could give Y/n the breakthrough she needed, he'd step into that ring without hesitation.

Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett

[bakedbakermom]

introducing: anti-hangry cookies

so i have 3 problems going for me right now when it comes to food. 1) i am on meds that kill my appetite, so i forget to eat until other physical symptoms manifest, and even then it is difficult to make myself actually consume something. 2) my sense of taste never recovered after i had covid, so my desire to snack has gone way down and i no longer find most things enjoyable or fulfilling to eat. 3) even though i am overweight, the part of my brain that sees items 1+2 as a good thing that could make me lose weight is currently gagged and straightjacketed because she is crazypants and keeps trying to kill me. i am a recovering anorexic in the same way some people are recovering alcoholics; it's something that i have to actively monitor in myself even years after "finishing" treatment." i MUST eat, or i will spiral.

by about 4pm i am literally weak with a hunger i cannot feel, my mind foggy and my whole body basically vibrating with hanger, and fighting tooth and nail to make myself eat something, anything, please. enter the anti-hangry cookie.

i originally made these when i was nursing to get my milk supply up (they are technically called "lactation cookies"); i don't know if they actually helped with that, but damn were they great to have around because they're the super rare combination of taste good and good for you and easy to eat that is absolutely essential in those bleary early days of parenthood. turns out that kind of snack is necessary outside of that time period, as well.

the good: rolled oats, full of whole grain, fiber, vitamins, and even some protein. brewers yeast, with more good vitamins and protein, plus good for the tummy. flax seed, B vitamins, omega 3s, fiber.

the fantastic: basically the best chocolate chip oatmeal cookie ever. there's a hint of cinnamon, and somehow the brewers yeast and flax seed only enhance that flavor rather than making it taste too, well, healthy lol. also you cannot taste the coconut oil, so if that's not your favorite flavor, fear not: you get the benefits without that sunscreen taste.

INGREDIENCE

3c old-fashioned rolled oats 1 1/2c all-purpose flour 5 tbs brewers yeast 3 tbs ground flax seeds 1/2 tsp baking powder 1/2 tsp baking soda 1/2 tsp cinnamon 1/4 tsp salt 3/4c (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temp 1/4c unrefined coconut oil 1 1/2c sugar 1 large egg + 1 egg yolk, room temp 2 tsp vanilla extract 1 bag dark chocolate chips

optional: 1/2c peanut butter, SO GOOD

whisk together oats, flour, yeast, flax, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt.

beat butter, coconut oil, and sugar (and pb, if using) together until fluffy, then add the egg and yolk and beat to combine. add the vanilla and beat again. gradually add in the dry ingredients on low speed until just mixed. it will be a bit crumbly. then mix in the chocolate chips.

scoop the dough into 1-inch rounds (i use a cookie scoop and then roll them in my hands). rolling into a ball is actually fairly important here, since otherwise they'll crumble apart a fair bit in the oven; rolling smushes them into a delightfully dense cookie. (obvs go ahead and skip the rolling if crumbly cookies are your jam.) place on a baking sheet about 2" apart and bake at 350 for 10-14 minutes.

the original recipe says it makes 20-22 cookies but that is BONKERS because i can easily get 36 good-sized cookies out of this. i typically bake a dozen and freeze the rest (in ball form, don't throw a big lump of dough into your freezer), and then bake them for 12-16 minutes straight from the freezer.

here's the remaining ~2 dozen dough balls in my freezer. confession: i actually prefer the ones baked from frozen to those made from the fresh dough! they stay taller in the oven and spread less, creating a delightful cookie experience that is somehow dense and fluffy at the same time.

try one in the shower. just do it. shower cookie is best cookie

[benjaminthewolf]

Living Up To Your Name (Vore Story)

Welp, this was one of the most difficult vore story projects I've ever tackled.

Mainly because of the battle scenes. Yeah, needless to say, battle scenes are hard to write.

But this is the Sky/landers franchise we're talking about. Fighting is kinda, ya know, their whole thing, so-

Word count: 7,623

WARNING: INJURY, SWEARING

     Astroblast gradually shifted his head around on his pillow as he let a muted, scratchy half-murmur half-gnarly-grumble vibrate itself around in his voice box for a few seconds. Reluctantly rolling his crystal body over on his bed so he was now lying upon his front, heaving out a mildly despondent sigh as he did, the light elemental Supercharger soon after attempted to let his mind drift away from hazy consciousness (just as he had done all throughout the same night, so be it), and enter eventually into a state of tranquil, steady slumber, so he could finally get some good rest for next morni- 

     *FWOOMP*

   “ASTROBLAST!”

      Automatically and instantly lurching upwards as an instinctively hysteric “AAAAH!” burst out of the crystalline man’s throat, Astroblast urgently shot open his eyes, and swung his head around his room so he could decisively figure out what was going on. As soon as he did this, he immediately realized two things.

     Firstly, and most importantly, the one, or actually, the ones who had screeched out his name, and caused this sheer panic as a result, was the three of Fiesta’s amigos. Despite all being tiny skeletons, they were currently breathing in and out very rapidly, whilst leaning against the frame of the door they had just broken open in tremendous exhaustion. 

     Secondly, Astroblast was able to figure out from the height and angle he was looking at them from that he had apparently activated subconsciously his anti-gravity floating ability from the shock, and was now hovering approximately two feet over his bed, still positioned with his front towards the ground, as a result. Also due to this, his white and gold-trimmed pajama shirt with “I Come In Peace” printed in its center was now visible to the trio. His pajama shorts were similarly visible, and possessed the same color palette. 

     In the time it had taken him to comprehend this second fact, however, one of the amigos, coincidentally, the one in the middle, aptly known as “Dos” had finally managed to catch his breath enough to speak up to Astroblast once more.

“WEDON’TKNOWHOWATALLBUTCOUNTMONEYBONECAPTUREDFIESTAANDHEALSOTOOKTHECRYPTCRUSHERANDFIESTASUMMONEDUSAFTERDISTRACTINGCOUNTMONEYBONESOWECOULDGETTHECRYPTCRUSHEROUTOFTHERESOWECOULDGETHELPANDNOWTHEY’REUPPASTSKYHIGHLANDSANDYOURSUNRUNNERISTHEONLYONETHATCANGOUPTHERECAUSEITSALIGHTELEMENTAREAANDTHESUNRUNNER’SALIGHTELEMENTVEHICLEANDWENEEDTOGOUPTHERERIGHTNOWORELSE-”

     “WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-WAIT! SLOW DOWN!” Astroblast finally brought the incoherent ramble to a halt. “ALL I HEARD WAS ‘FIESTA’ AND ‘COUNT MONEYBONE’! WHAT HAPPENED, EXACTLY?”

     Realizing he was talking way too fast for Astroblast to keep up in the following moments, Dos promptly shut himself up, slapping his two skeletal hands over his mouth with an “E-” noise, before Uno, the amigo to his left, ultimately decided to speak up instead.

     “Uh…it's kind of a long story, so maybe it would be best if we told you while you’re getting out of your pajamas and into your space suit, and…grabbing your laser gun and all that.” he relayed to the Supercharger far more comprehensively.

      Taking a few moments to reorient himself after this proposal, and all of the utterly unhinged, non-stop madness that had come before it, Astroblast sighed out a far more calm and collected breath of “Okay…”, before giving a firm nod back to the amigos. Proceeding to float downwards towards the floor, maneuvering himself into an upright position as he did, Astroblast eventually stuck a landing in front of his closet, whilst allowing all of the initial shock of the moment to gradually flow out from his being. As he was reaching for the door handle, however, something suddenly perked up in his brain. 

     “Uhhh…do you think you guys can…” he awkwardly attempted to ask the little skeletons. “...turn around?”

     “What-OH! YEAH YEAH YEAH, OF COURSE!” Uno responded in sudden comprehension of what, exactly, the crystal man meant, before instantly swiveling around. Dos and Tres would resultantly follow shortly after, in a shared sense of mutual, implicit understanding.

     “So yeah, since we’re all magically linked with Fiesta, he kinda just filled us in on all the details mentally when he summoned us.” Tres began to explain. “So here’s basically what happened…”

****

     “OI!”

     “OI!”

     “OI!”

     “WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU BONEHEAD!

"...Heh. Literally..." 

"BUT GET YOUR BONY PELVIC ASS UP OFF THE FLOOR! I SAID OI!”

     “...”

     “ARE YOU IGNORING ME ON PURPOSE OR ARE YOU REALLY JUST THIS INEPT?”

“WAKE UP!”

     “.......................”

     “Alright, that’s it.”

     “¡DESPERTARSE, TÚ ESTÚPIDO CULERO HIJO DE LA FREGADA! ¡VETE A LA CHINGADA Y CHINGA TU MADRE! ¿TÚ OÍR, IDIOTA? ¡TU MAMA!”

     “*GYAAAAAAAAAAH-* ¡MI MADRE NO TIENE ABSOLUTAMENTE NADA QUE VER CON LO QUE ESTÁ PASANDO AQUÍ!-”

     “¡Buenos días, motherfucker!”

     “MONEYBONE!”

     “THAT’S COUNT MONEYBONE, TO YOU, FIESTA!”

     And that was when Fiesta boiled over. 

     The undead Supercharger skeleton needed nothing in the way of rational thought. He needed nothing in the way of sight or sound. And he most certainly needed nothing in the way of consciously harnessing his strength in order to respond to Count Moneybone with his fist.

     A great cracking noise could be heard resonating around the two rival skeletons’ current vicinity. Seconds after, with the moment of fury gone by, Fiesta could critically think once again. Thus, he was given no other choice but to examine all the details pertaining to both himself and his most hated enemy the second his eyesight cleared up; as well as to their surroundings, a little later. With all of this new information at hand, then, Fiesta was rendered both silent and imobile rather quickly, as he subsequently connected all the dots.

     “...well, I guess I can’t blame you for trying…” Count Moneybone spoke up with his signature tone of royal, arrogant calmness. “...but I think you’ll find that trying to…oh, what was the phrase again? Oh yeah! ‘Slug me in the face’! Is kind of a lot harder when you’re THE SIZE OF AN AVERAGE SEWER RAT! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Ahhhh~” 

     Fiesta only remained reticent and unmoving, as reality at last began to settle. 

     The indisputable fact of the matter, in isolation from everything else, was that Count Moneybone had somehow managed to capture him. That meant that right now, his goal was to learn as much as he could about the situation, in order to evaluate all of his options, and formulate a plan for escape. Moments after this had settled in his mind, Count Moneybone resumed his villainous chuckling. 

     “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OH YOU ACTUALLY THOUGHT YOU HAD A CHANCE, DIDN’T YOU?! OH, HOW RICH IS THAT, NOW? HOW RICH IS THAT? ….WELL CERTAINLY NOT AS RICH AS ME! HAHAHA! …OR AS SMART! HEH!”

     That was when Fiesta realized that he knew exactly how to get Count Moneybone to reveal his hand.

     “...aaaaaanyway!” the former ruler of the underworld abruptly shifted the subject. “WELCOME TO BEYOND SKYHIGHLANDS, FIESTA! THE BRIGHT, CLOUDY, BASICALLY UNREACHABLE REGION WHERE SKYLANDS GIVES WAY TO THE VACUUM OF SPACE!” he hollered out in theatrical glamor, gesturing out and towards the landscape before them.

     As Fiesta had naturally expected, based on his skeletal rival’s description, he observed that Count Moneybone was standing upon a giant, glistening platform of clouds. Aside from the ones on the ground, the light blue, shimmering sky around them was also lightly decorated with the occasional pure white wisp.

     At this point, since Fiesta was still yet to speak another word, he appeared to be dumbstruck and muted from realization to Count Moneybone, as he took a few flamboyant strides forth. In reality, however, the shrunken skeleton was merely prepping his plan for probing, while continuing to note his surroundings.

     “Oh, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little gimmick…” Count Moneybone cockily sneered before calling out a cheeky: “TA-DA!” and revealing to Fiesta the Crypt Crusher, simply by turning himself around; the vehicle parked about five meters from where he stood.

     “Oh, yes! Brought your stupid little funeral procession car all the way up here, too! HAH! I’m sure you know what that means, dont’ch’ya!”

     Fiesta spontaneously let out a stifled gasp, as the magical light blue eyes within his bony sockets widened to at least twice their size.

     “EHEHEHEHEHE, YES! I suppose you could say that I’M in the driver’s seat, now!” Count Moneyone immediately quipped in a sense of satisfactory superiority. “...except THIS driver’s seat contains a rift engine!”

     As Count Moneybone wasn’t currently looking at him, Fiesta couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the thoroughly self-absorbed former underworld ruler, who had all but seemed to have forgotten that engines aren’t located in the driver’s seat. Nonetheless, this news was still very good, as the presence of the Crypt Crusher meant he had a surefire option of escape up here with him.

     “If I can just summon my Amigos while making sure Moneybone is distracted, they can use its rift engine to get back to the academy in no time! But since this is a light elemental zone and there’s only one person at the academy who has a light element vehicle, they’re going to have to find Astroblast as soon as possible!”

     Fiesta momentarily glanced up to examine Count Moneybone’s current expression. He appeared to be staring down at him in victorious bliss, most likely still assuming that his tiny rival wasn’t speaking due to contemplating defeat. 

     “Okay, I’ll start off by asking him how we got here, and move into how he got, specifically, into a light elemental zone in due time. But the most important thing is that I have to keep him talking for just about as long as I can!”

     “Aww…what’s wrong, wittle guy? Is wour defweet just two much fwor you two handwleeeeeee?” Count Moneybone joyously mocked the still silent, tiny Fiesta.

     “Alright, Moneybone…”  Fiesta suddenly spoke up rather calmly, much to Count Moneybone’s sheer and sudden, though attemptedly suppressed, shock. “If you think you’re so high and mighty, and smart, since you’ve apparently already ensured your total victory over me, why don’t you just go ahead and answer this one, simple question for me? Hmm?” he continued on in an outwardly apparent state of regulated fury. “HOW IN THE NAME OF THE ANCIENTS DID YOU EVEN GET US UP HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE?” 

     A thoroughly uncomfortable pause proceeded to follow, one in which Count Moneybone’s skeletal brow steadily furrowed deeper towards his similarly narrowing eye sockets.

     “Oooooooooohhhhhhhh, I see!” he eventually spat out through grinding teeth. “So YOU think you can just wake up in the clutch of COUNT Moneybone, see that you’ve been bested by his technological, and magical capabilities, and then go on to insult him like a petulant little child, hmm? Well I’ll have you know that I’ve been able to magically teleport objects for YEARS! So what makes you think I can’t develop my skills to where conscious beings can be affected too, huh, Fiesta?”

      In the midst of Count Moneybone’s rant, Fiesta had wasted absolutely zero time summoning his amigos, telepathically informing them on the situation as they appeared, before the three miniature skeletons collectively understood that they needed to take the Crypt Crusher back to the Academy, scampering over to the nearby vehicle in heightened urgency, as a result.

     “‘What makes you think I can’t develop my skills to where conscious beings can be affected too, huh, Fiesta?’” Fiesta quoted back to Count Moneybone in rising spite. “Oh, I don’t know…maybe the fact that…you’re an undeniably incompetent piece of shit standing proudly at the peak of the Dunning-Kruger graph’s mount stupid! And the just as indisputable fact that you failed spectacularly at the one, singular, though might I add, EXTREMELY IMPORTANT, job that Kaos gave you back in Superchargers is WAY more than enough proof for me of that point!” 

      There would only be three exact seconds between those words hitting Count Moneybone’s metaphorical brain, and the result.

     “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT”??????????????????????????????????????????????????

     Count Moneybone violently, hysterically, viciously, barbarously, and dementedly screeched at the top of his metaphorical lungs in explosively unwavering, frothing fury as Fiesta only glared up into his eyes in purely staunch contempt. Casting a bit of a sidelong glance over at the Crypt Crusher as the Amigos revved it up and began to drive, Fiesta, as he knew it was best for him to maintain his current facial expression, internally smirked back at the arrogant Count screeching at him; and doing so in nothing but purified, genuine hate. 

****

     “Geez! Was he actually screaming that loud for that long?” Astroblast asked in slight disbelief as he continued to steer the Sun Runner upwards through Skylands’ stratosphere; the elongated, wispy white clouds swishing past the windshield in an instant up against the light blue background of the sky.

     “Ayyyyup!” Tres, huddled up with Uno and Dos upon the seat beside him, (resultantly sharing a seatbelt with them), promptly responded. “Good thing, too, or else we probably wouldn’t even be here in the first place!”

     “Well, I mean, having no windpipe does mean there aren’t really any consequences for doing something like that, so…” Uno added in soon after.

     “Yeah, that’s true, too.”

     “I wonder if they’ll still be screaming at each other when we get there!” Dos lightheartedly pondered with a chuckle.

     “Maybe! I dunno!” Tres giggled out in response.

     Astroblast internally heaved a pained sigh paired with a sharp eye roll. He understood that the amigos weren’t Skylanders in their own rights, and didn’t have nearly as much experience in these kinds of situations as he or Fiesta did…but even so, now was not the time for idle chatter, and Astroblast felt that they should know this. 

     “Well…” he eventually spoke up in an abruptly lowered and serious tone, which seemed to accomplish the intended effect of indirectly reminding them all that this was an urgent rescue mission, “There’s only one way to find out.” 

     Astroblast leaned forwards just slightly in the driver’s seat whilst significantly narrowing his eyes.

He knew based on his ship’s continual Rift Engine-aided velocity, and how far the area defined as being beyond Skyhighlands was from the academy, that the four of them were mere seconds away from arrival by now. It was extremely important, then, for him to properly time the Sun Runner’s deceleration, so that they wouldn’t find themselves breaching into space.

     Gently pressing down on the brake pedal, Astroblast could feel his ship slowing, at a smooth, yet still extremely G-Force intensive rate, causing the three Amigos to get viciously thrusted backwards into their seats.

     “OH-WHAAAAAAAH! OH THANK THE ANCIENTS THAT SEAT BELTS EXIST-WRUUUUUUUNGH!”

     Tres screeched out in palpable terror, as his bony body was given no choice but to lay there and soak in the impact.

     Astroblast opted to say nothing as his surroundings became progressively more discernible from the Sun Runner’s braking. Eventually, the ship slowed down to a stop, and the three Amigos were able to gradually pull themselves together.

     “*Bluuuuuurgh*...uh…we’re ok….we’re ok, right guys? Ok yeah, we’re good.” Dos stammered out while shaking himself into reorientation. 

     Astroblast was once again tempted to speak up, if only to ask how the Amigos weren’t used to these levels of G-Forces after years of riding with Fiesta in the Crypt Crusher, but once again, ultimately decided to refrain. 

     “...alright, then…” he mumbled out, whilst driving the Sun Runner forth at a pace slow enough to scan the cloudy terrain below him. “...well now we need to find those two, and-”

     “OH, WELL LOOK DOWN AT YOU, FIESTA, THINKING YOU’RE SOOOOOOOOO SMART! OF COURSE LIGHT TRAPTANIUM CAN BE USED TO ENTER LIGHT ELEMENT ZONES! IF IT HAD TO BE A LIVING THING, THEN HOW WOULD YOUR OWN O’ SO PRECIOUS CRYPT CRUSHER GET INTO AN UNDEAD AREA WITHOUT AN UNDEAD DRIVER? HMMMMMM?”

     “...well, that was easy.”

     Immediately steering the Sun Runner in the direction of Count Moneybone’s screech, it wouldn’t be very long before Astroblast and the amigos spotted a royally dressed skeleton pricked up in a royally pissed-off stance, glaring down towards his furiously clenched fist, continuing his verbal barrage without any form of a break in between each sentence. 

     Astroblast proceeded to press a few buttons on the Sun Runner’s control panel in silence, whilst the Amigos collectively decided to hold their own. A soft wiring sound could be heard building up inside the Sun Runner, as upon the vehicle’s windshield, an electrical screen appeared to boot up. Utilizing this screen to zoom in significantly onto the back of Count Moneybone’s skull, Astroblast brought a golden target icon onto the screen, and maneuvered it onto the skull’s back’s middle. The amigos could only metaphorically hold their breath in preparation for what they figured out was going to happen next.

     *FWOOSH*!

The slim and precise, yet powerful laser blast shot itself across the sky, and towards the still hollering form of Count Moneybone just beyond.

     “SO IF YOU TELL ME ONE MORE TIME THAT I DON’T POSSESS THE SKILLS NECESSARY TO STEAL YOUR CRYPT CRUSHER WITHOUT SETTING OFF ANY ALARMS, I AM GOING TO-”

     Fiesta had indeed taken note of the Sun Runner in front of him by now, yet still knew he had to remain in character to ensure Count Moneybone stayed distracted. As a result, he was just barely able, from the very corners of his eye sockets, to watch the bright, red laser that was shot from the ship zooming closer to his far larger nemesis, who remained utterly oblivious to its presence.

     “AND DON’T YOU GO ON THINKING THAT JUST BECAUSE YOU HELPED DEFEAT ME ONCE, THAT AUTOMATICALLY MEANS I’M GOING TO GET BEATEN AGAIN!”

Count Moneybone spat onto the captive Fiesta.

“SO MAYBE-EEEEEEEEEEEE!”

     The following moments seemed to come by the pure, yet acquired force of instinct alone, as Count Moneybone’s pupils dilated.

     *SNAP*

   “AAAAA-HAH!”

     Instantly realizing the jig was up, Astroblast knew that he needed to get as close as he could to Count Moneybone, so he could better analyze his next moves.

     Count Moneybone, now donning his suit of robotic armor, gave a muted, sneering “Hmph.” as the Sun Runner pulled in closer to, though still far above, his position. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Astroblast Danger Guts himself! Oh, I’m so scared!”

     To this, Astroblast could only narrow his eyes before Dos stood up on the shotgun seat to clap back.

     “Hey! He’s got a sick-ass laser gun, and you don’t!”

     “*Pffft*! Like that stupid little ‘Special Class EZ 9,000 Laser Gun’ could do any more damage than a Chompy bite-”

     Not willing to waste any more time, Astroblast let loose a laser barrage on the skeleton, being sure to avoid his robotic suit’s left hand where Fiesta was still being clutched. 

     “-AAAAGH-A- GRRRRRRR-!” naturally rather ticked off from getting attacked whilst off guard, Count Moneybone snapped his bony fingers once more, summoning into the skies an entire air support squadron of his own robots; all of a model similar to that which he had used in his final battle during Swap Force.

     Thankfully for Astroblast, even though Fiesta’s Amigos weren’t as experienced working in the Sun Runner as they were the Crypt Crusher, they still knew their way around Supercharger vehicles’ supporting firearms, and were not hesitant to show it.

     “TAKE THIS YA STUPID…COPTER BOT THINGS!” Dos hollered out from the shotgun seat as he and his fellow Amigos gathered up around the Sun Runner’s supporting firearms control panel in front of the very same seat.

     With the Amigos covering him, Astroblast was free to focus on Count Moneybone, who was, no doubt, firing back at the Sun Runner in the form of purple plasma ball blasts from his robotic suit’s wrists. Weaving in and around to dodge the shots, Astroblast kept his gaze locked firmly onto the former ruler of the underworld; knowing once the snarky Skeleton’s robotic armor gave in, he would be rendered essentially helpless. Utilizing his Sun Runner’s Satellite Support move, the crystalline Supercharger could now see Count Moneybone’s health bar above his suit’s skull headpiece, whilst he continuously whittled it down with his lasers.

     “HEY! WOULD YOU STOP MOVING AROUND? IT’S WORKING ANNOYINGLY WELL!” Count Moneybone eventually roared up towards the still-firing Spacecraft and its occupants.

     The instant this remark hit Fiesta’s metaphorical ears, the captive Supercharger burst out into a prolonged bout of half-smirking half-chuckling at his former dictator and prolonged mutual rival.

     “You never actually learn anything, do you?”

     “SHUT UP, FIESTA, OR ELSE YOUR LOWER JAW’S GETTING RIPPED OFF, TOO!”

     “Hah! Oh really? Well I’d just LOVE to see you try!”

     Swiveling his robotic suit’s head around to meet with Fiesta’s challenging gaze, Count Moneybone let a growl progressively rise up in his metaphorical throat.

     “I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I ONCE PUNCHED ONE OF THOSE STUPID TROLL SHREDNAUGHT MACHINES OUT OF COMMISSION WITH THIS SUIT! IN ONE PUNCH! SO UNLESS YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW, EXPECT TO SEE YOUR MANDIBLE ON MY TROPHY SHELF!”

     Fiesta held onto the resulting silence for only a single second “...what suit?”

     “WHAT-?”

    *FSHWINK-CLUNK*

    “.......................................................uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……………………the one that’s now in pieces on the floor?”

     “Alright, Moneybone! Hand him over!” Astroblast called out to the defeated skeleton as he slowly lowered the Sun Runner towards ground level. “Everyone here knows what’s going to happen if you don’t, so why don’t you just save yourself all that trouble, and put Fiesta down NOW?”

     “...........................................uh……..” Count Moneybone blankly vocalized, his immobilized body shaking in bewilderment as his eyes betrayed the dawning of reality. “Uh-......umm…….I-” and then, just like that, the infamous former ruler of the underworld perked all the way back up. In stance, in demeanor, in everything. Just as if nothing had ever happened at all.

     “Oh, oh you may THINK you’ve already won, but what kind of evil genius doesn’t have a secret backup plan lying up their sleeve?”

     “What? What is he-no. No, I can’t just assume that he’s bluffing. I gotta stay on guard!” Astroblast internally deliberated as the metaphorical neurons within Count Moneybone’s skull began firing for the very first time in the entire encounter.

     “YES, YES! LIE THERE IN SHOCK, OH WON’T YOU? BECAUSE I JUST SO HAPPEN TO HAVE ONE MORE ADVANCED SECRET TECHNIQUE LEFT!” Count Moneybone continued, ending his sentence with a dramatic point into the air. “WITH A TWIST!”

     “Secret technique? Wait a second IF THIS GUY ACTUALLY THINKS HE’S GOING TO OUTRUN THE SUN RUNNER-”

     “YEET!”

      “WHA-?”

      “FIESTA!” the three Amigos shrieked out in rising horror.

     Immediately slamming the Sun Runner’s gas pedal, Astroblast lurched forwards in order to zip his way over to the newly airborne Fiesta, before his momentum was brought to a nauseating instantaneous halt a second later by a newly snapped-in barrage of Count Moneybone’s air support robots. Looking through a stray gap in the currently robot-smothered windshield, Astroblast could see Count Moneybone sprinting forwards upon the clouds, presumably in order to snatch up the now undoubtedly unconscious Fiesta before he could.

     “YOU THREE HOLD BACK THE ROBOTS! I’LL GO AFTER FIESTA!” Astroblast called out to the Amigos as the Sun Runner’s windshield flipped open. With the robots now having been launched into every conceivable direction, Astroblast snagged the swiftly-dwindling opportunity and lept out of the driver’s seat onto the ground.

     Sensing a faint: “WE’RE ON IT!” echoing from behind him, Astroblast’s astronaut boots pounded against the floor as he began gaining ground on Count Moneybone.

     “MONEYBONE!” Astroblast screeched out to the sprinting Skeleton before him.

     “HUH?” Count Moneybone heaved out before taking a glance over his shoulder.

     “HEY, WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY LASER GUN AGAIN?”

     “...uh…uh-oh.” 

     Promptly picking up the pace, not out of the need to make it to Fiesta first, but out of his own natural instinct for self-preservation, Count Moneybone let a terrified: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” escape his metaphorical lungs as he continued scampering forth. Ultimately, however, his overflowing metaphorical synapses were eventually forced to admit that he couldn’t keep himself out of firing range forever. And that was when it finally came to him.

     “WELP, GUESS IT'S TIME TO MAKE USE OF THE CLASSIC VERSION!”

     Before Astroblast behind him even had a chance to react, much less attempt to figure out what that even meant, Count Moneybone had completely swiveled himself around.

     “RUN AWAY!” he began to wail as he hotfooted himself out of danger.

     “Ugh…” Astroblast groaned while rolling his eyes. 

     Placing his laser gun back at his side so he could have both hands ready to grab ahold of Fiesta, Astroblast continued sprinting forwards. 

     “There’s absolutely no way that Count Moneybone could’ve thrown Fiesta any significant distance. I’ve gotta be getting really close-THERE HE IS!”

     As he had suspected, Fiesta was out cold. Astroblast needed to look him over for injuries as soon as he possibly could, and to this end, as the shrunken Supercharger gained more and more room in his field of view, Astroblast timed a leap forwards with an outstretched arm.

      Successfully snagging the skeleton off the floor with his right hand as a result, Astroblast immediately began feeling over Fiesta’s body to make sure he wasn’t severely injured. He couldn’t care less that he’d landed on his chest from his leap. All that mattered was whether or not his friend was hurt.

     A swift preliminary check told Astroblast that Fiesta hadn’t gained any major breaks or fractures from getting thrown across the terrain. Importantly, that meant moving or handling him wasn’t going to exacerbate any injuries. 

     “...okay, now that Fiesta’s safe, I’ve gotta go back and help the Amigos clear out the rest of those robots, so we can finally get back to the Academy!” he internally noted to himself.

     Now, there was nothing left to do except get up off the floor and go. To this end, Astroblast attempted to pick up his left foot so he could place it onto the ground and push himself upwards. Only to feel his entire leg getting violently dragged back down to the floor, seemingly a millisecond later.

     “WHA-”

     “HAH! DID YOU REALLY THINK I WAS GOING TO GIVE UP THAT EASILY?”

     “MONEYBONE!”

     “THAT’S COUNT MONEYBONE TO YOU, ASTROBLAST DANGER GUTS!”

     Not only had the skeletal former dictator somehow slid himself back into the game, he seemed to be keeping a bewilderingly firm hold on Astroblast’s leg, preventing the Supercharger’s escape. It would only take one glance backwards, however, for this momentary mystery to be solved.

     “AHAHAHAH! NOW WHAT SORT OF EVIL GENIUS DO YOU THINK I WOULD BE, IF I DIDN’T HAVE MORE ROBOTIC ARMOR SUITS AT MY FINGERTIPS?”

     Astroblast strained to reach for his laser gun at his side, only for the full force of the suit’s left foot to come crashing down upon his forearm as he did. An overwhelming barrage of sharp, tingling pain signals shot straight to the crystal man’s brain before the numbness began to settle in.

     Count Moneybone only smirked as he immediately followed this up with a plasma ball blast straight  to the face. The superheated purple orb struck Astroblast square on the left cheek, creating a great, branching crack in the region, and causing him to give a pained: “GURNGH!” sound as a newfound burning sensation seared into the wound.

      “JUST HAND HIM OVER ALREADY! WE’RE NOT PLAYING THIS GAME OF KEEP AWAY ANY MORE!”

Count Moneybone spat out to the writhing Supercharger below.

“NOT LIKE YOU CAN REALLY DO ANYTHING ELSE ANYWAY! …EXCEPT DIE, OF COURSE!”

     Astroblast continued to breathe as he lay trapped within the armored skeleton’s grasp. Count Moneybone, then, continued awaiting an answer, positively reveling in the elation of his ultimate victory, as he did.

     “...no.” Astroblast finally broke the silence, in a pained and ragged, yet, to Count Moneybone, shockingly composed tone. “No. There’s still one more thing I can do.”

     Without skipping a single beat, Astroblast shakily moved his arm holding Fiesta in closer to his face, as he glared Count Moneybone straight down his undead pupils with narrowed eyes.

     And that was when he opened up his mouth.

     It seemed as though time itself had dilated around the two conscious beings to a point where it halted entirely. Yet with each passing nanosecond, Count Moneybone’s metaphorical neurons were able to continuously piece together exactly what Astroblast was doing. Still, he could only react as fast as his metaphorical brain could process his actions. Bound by his physical limitations within the shackles of time’s linear arrow, Count Moneybone was resigned to the role of a mere observer, whilst Astroblast’s own movements progressed.

     Astroblast knew very well that this might just be the only possible way he could protect his friend in this moment. That meant that no matter how Fiesta tasted, or how hard he was to swallow, Astroblast was going to get him down to safety. Down to a place where the shrunken skeleton was quite literally surrounded by his friend. Surrounded by the soft, malleable walls of his stomach, but also by the solid, firm, crystal exterior that acted as his skin.

     And so, Astroblast stretched open his crystal jaws, exposing the fleshy interior of his maw, as he extended his white-colored tongue, where Fiesta would be laid down. Upon the unconscious skeleton’s first contact with his fellow Supercharger’s taste buds, the sensory receptor cells zapped his flavor up to the crystal man’s brain; just as fast as time would allow. Though Astroblast’s brain was certainly not in a position to focus its resources on examining Fiesta’s taste, the signal was nonetheless received. Thus, as Fiesta was slid further along the warm, squishy surface of the tongue, his mildly spicy chili pepper flavor was dragged along with him. It certainly wasn’t anything Astroblast couldn’t handle, though. (Especially not after all his Enchilada Night experience). So, the light Supercharger merely shoved his skeletal friend deeper into his maw, as Count Moneybone stood by, imobile.

     Eventually, Fiesta was pushed deep enough into Astroblast’s maw to where his skull headpiece bumped against his white uvula. The plump, bulbous sack of flesh swung back and forth for a while from the strike, as Fiesta’s shoes entered into the maw at last. 

     Able to sense the entirety of his friend’s form tucked away within his maw, Astroblast swiftly snapped shut his jaws, enclosing Fiesta inside the warm, damp chamber, and causing a *click* noise to echo throughout it, not like Fiesta could even hear it in the first place. 

     Count Moneybone sure could, though, the detection of which only solidified in his mind the notion of what Astroblast was going to do. For even though his maw was sealed up and secluded, it could still very much be pried open with force. No, for Fiesta to be truly safe, he needed to go somewhere deeper.

     Raising up the back of his tongue, Astroblast could sense Fiesta’s skull headpiece scraping against the alveolar ridges upon his hard palate. Soon, gravity would draw the skeleton downwards and towards the crystal man’s pharynx. With sealed jaws leaving hardly any room for comfortability, Astroblast could sense both Fiesta’s skull headpiece as well as the felt on the back of his Mariachi suit brushing up against his soft palette, naturally resulting in a second contact with his uvula. Nonetheless, he understood deeply that right now, the most important objective was to keep his friend safe. Consequently, the crystal man’s white colored epiglottis covered up his laryngeal inlet, as his upper esophageal sphincter opened up. Fiesta’s head and skeletal upper body were thus slid past the laryngopharynx, and into the muscle region of the sphincter, as the downward pushing motion of swallowing squeezed the aforementioned sections of his body into the esophagus. 

     Astroblast didn’t waste any time completing the job, swallowing again in order to shove Fiesta’s  middle body into the muscular tube; once more for his legs, and one final time for his Mariachi shoes. His esophagus’ rhythmic, involuntary contractions of peristalsis could handle the rest.

     And that was when time came rushing back. 

     Astroblast heaved in a gasp of air the instant Fiesta’s shoes slid past his upper esophageal sphincter. Reality began to settle in as a newfound jolt of adrenaline hit his veins. One second later, he could sense that Count Moneybone’s hold around his leg had loosened, as he was still very much stunned. Yanking his leg out of the former dictator’s grasp and planting both his feet on the ground whilst forcing his arms up underneath him, Astroblast gathered all his energy into his left leg. 

     At last, the full force of an upwards striking kick smashed squarely into the skull headpiece of Count Moneybone’s robotic suit, completely cracking the thing open and exposing the fragile form of the skeleton’s head lying within. 

     Now back standing upright, Astroblast needed only to kick the skeletal villain straight in his delicate skull, exactly as he did with the headpiece; thus removing him from the battle entirely. 

     Count Moneybone’s eyes rolled into the back of his sockets as his jaws dropped open from the shock. Soon enough, the entire suit toppled over all at once, as the electronics within began shutting down; presumably due to the unconscious state of its user. 

     Now, there was nothing to do except run.

     His feet striking against the cloudy grounds of the light zone, Astroblast’s adrenaline continued to course through his being, before he spontaneously became vividly aware of Fiesta halfway down his esophagus.

     The continuous peristaltic motions within the organ guided the skeleton towards the stomach as Astroblast’s body continued running forwards. Astroblast himself, however, wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep doing so, mainly considering his injuries. As a result, whilst Fiesta proceeded to move beyond his collarbone, he began to look around for some cover he could safely hide behind.

     Until he could find some, though, he needed to keep going.

     Suddenly able to sense his lower esophageal sphincter opening up as Fiesta was squeezed through, Astroblast finally spotted a cluster of boulders lying in the distance. Picking up his pace as Fiesta made a splashdown in his stomach, Astroblast could sense his fellow Supercharger’s form sloshing around within the non-acidic liquids of the organ. Eventually, however, the shrunken skeleton’s body settled down against the stomach wall, stabilizing him within the crystal man’s guts.

     As he approached the assemblage of boulders he spotted, Astroblast’s speed began to slow. Not only so he could bring himself to a stop when he reached his refuge, but also because he didn’t want Fiesta to get swirled around in his stomach anymore, which was already naturally churning to begin with.

     At last, Astroblast had slowed to a walking pace, as the boulders were now right in front of him. Continuing to pant strenuously as he set himself down against the largest of the bunch, Astroblast shakily placed his left hand over his middle, as an extra layer of protection for Fiesta within.

     The crystal Supercharger could faintly sense a gurgle emulating from the region, as his wholly exhausted, injured body began to slip into unconsciousness. 

****

     The very last thing Fiesta remembered before he struck the ground was, well, being hurtled through the air en route to the ground. Needless to say, then, the moment the shrunken skeleton began to regain consciousness, he did so with hardly any clues about where he could possibly be at this point. That was precisely why, the moment a low-pitched, echoing, rather boisterous rumble graced his metaphorical ears, Fiesta’s interest was roused. 

     Based on the rumble alone, Fiesta could presume that wherever he was right now was an enclosed space, as the echoes didn’t sound as if they had traveled very far. As his metaphorical brain continued to wake, he was soon able to sense that there were many softer noises of similar tones and timbre resonating in his surroundings as well. 

     Something about those noises sounded…familiar. As if he should be able to pinpoint exactly what they were. But as Fiesta knew he wasn’t exactly awake at the current moment, he wasn’t going to force himself to try and figure out their identity quite yet.

     Instead then, he merely examined this mystery chamber’s warmth which his body was now detecting, whilst his bony fingers felt their way over the wall, or obstruction, or whatever else, he was lying up against. The heat itself lay within that glorious sweet spot range that anyone would wish their bed’s blanket would bestow onto them at night. It was comforting, as though it was physically wrapped around him, ensconcing him within an ease of relaxation which could easily lull one to sleep. Yet it did not overheat his form, to where he began yearning for the release of cold air. 

     As for whatever he was lying up against, Fiesta’s first impressions as he glided his fingers over its surface, was that it was slick, damp, and smooth to the touch, yet malleable, and pillowy in its firmness. Fiesta was soon to realize after making these observations, that they were moving as well. Moving in the same way that one’s chest would move up and down as they breathed. Noticeable, yet subtle, rhythmic, and constant. But that wasn’t the only thing that was moving.

     Swishing faintly beneath his bony waist seemed to be some form of liquid pool. Judging from the fact he wasn’t feeling any pain, Fiesta presumed it to be similar to water in nature. Taking in a breath through his skeletal nose, he could sense no sour or bitter smells within his current surroundings, which only further supported that presumption. Exhaling from the same region, Fiesta was now feeling considerably more aware of both himself and his present confines. Thus, there remained nothing else left to do but open his eyes, and figure out once and for all where he was. 

     The moment Fiesta’s eyes flickered open, he was immediately graced by the color white. Once his eyes took the seconds they needed to refocus, the forms of the shifting white walls, and the clear-colored rippling pool below, became apparent. Taking a swift glance around, Fiesta could now be certain he was within an enclosed, secluded area; and that this area was, for now at least, safe. But…what was this area, exactly?

     Heaving in and out a sigh as he repositioned himself with his back against the wall, and his legs straight out in front of him, Fiesta lay down for a moment, before yet another question struck his being.

     Where was Astroblast right now?

     The last time he had seen his fellow Supercharger, he was piloting his Sun Runner near the ground, in a confrontation with Count Moneybone. Fiesta leaned forwards just slightly, and tilted his head downwards in thought. What had Astroblast done, exactly, after that? What had gone on between the crystal man and the Count after the latter had thrown him off into the distance? Fiesta glanced up and around the cushiony, heated chamber he was currently in. Had Astroblast put him in here? Still, where was here, exactly? Where was this white, compact, warm, damp, liquid-filled, squishy-

     Fiesta’s bony body froze up. 

     Yet another deep rumble reverberated across the churning walls, as Fiesta tilted his head upwards. Sure enough, there it was. All the confirmation he needed. He had no idea what the name for it was, but that was the lower esophageal sphincter he was currently staring at. Returning his head to its default position, Fiesta sat down in silence for a while, before eventually picking himself up and taking a couple of steps forwards whilst gazing at the liquid pool beneath him. Yet again, there it was, right below him under the waves. Though he could not identify it by name, he was gazing at the Pylorus, the sphincter leading from the stomach into the small intestine. Astroblast’s pylorus.

     Slowly returning to where he was laying before, and settling himself back down, waist deep within Astroblast’s stomach juices, the shrunken skeleton merely sat there in silence, save for the natural gurgling ambiance of the organ, and let himself take it all in.

     Eventually, however, his mind had finished doing such.

     Even if he was in Astroblast’s stomach, that was nothing to worry about! I mean, how else was his fellow Supercharger supposed to keep his shrunken form away from Count Moneybone’s unrelenting pursuit? It made complete sense! Plus, at the end of the day, what mattered most was that he was safe.

     And that was when a newfound sensation of mental clarity and calmness flooded over him. Only for it to completely dissipate just as fast as it had arrived. 

     He was most certainly safe right now. But could the same be said for Astroblast? Judging from the fact that he hadn’t heard the crystal man’s voice yet, and that he hadn’t felt the stomach’s spatial position change at all from any potential walking, running, or general moving around, Fiesta concluded his fellow Supercharger was most likely unconscious. 

    Still, that left one more very important question yet to be answered. Unconscious in safe surroundings, or unconscious in unsafe surroundings? Just as he hadn’t heard Astroblast’s voice since he woke up, he similarly hadn’t heard…well, anything else coming from outside the stomach. But this didn’t automatically mean his friend was out of danger. His years of experience as a Skylander had certainly taught him that well.

     At the very least, Fiesta did know that Astroblast was alive, and that his bodily functions were most likely all stable. He also knew Astroblast wasn’t being moved by anything or anyone. Yet, until he could get verbal confirmation from that man himself that he was okay, he would have no way of knowing for sure whether or not he really was.

     For now then, all he could do was wait, and stay vigilant about his observations. If anything about his current surroundings or situation changed, Fiesta would leap right on it. Leaning further back into Astroblast’s stomach walls, Fiesta gave a slight nod to himself, knowing what he needed to do.

****

     The very first things Astroblast could sense as his consciousness began to return were the sharp burning and throbbing sensations emulating from his damaged cheek; swiftly followed by the dull tinging in his injured arm. Still, he had regained a significant amount of energy since he had gone unconscious, and was therefore ready to get up and start moving again.

     But first, he needed to check on Fiesta. Upon his jittering eyelids opening wide enough, Astroblast glanced up, and upon seeing nothing of immediate danger, glanced down to his middle. He could sense that there was still pressure being exerted onto his stomach walls. That meant Fiesta was still in there. Judging from the fact he hadn’t heard anything besides gurgles coming from his guts since…well, since the tiny skeleton first arrived, Fiesta was also probably still unconscious. But he was still inside his stomach, and that meant he was safe.

     Now that he knew his friend was okay, Astroblast tilted his head back up, and glanced around his immediate field of view for a more thorough assessment of danger. After once again spotting nothing that could be of danger to him, he cautiously turned his head to the left, and then to the right. Still no danger. Even so, he wouldn’t know for sure whether or not he was safe until he looked behind himself.

     Cautiously placing both hands in front of him on the ground for support as he slowly shuffled onto his knees, Astroblast turned himself around in order to examine the region which was previously behind him. Nothing. That meant he was safe for now. Nonetheless-

     “Astroblast?”

     Reflexively leaping onto his feet in silence whilst yanking his laser gun from his side and aiming it in front of him, Astroblast swiftly came to his senses moments later.

     “Woah there, amigo! Calm down! It’s me!”

     Shifting his gaze back towards his midsection, Astroblast softly exhaled a relieved sigh.

     “Fiesta!”

     “Yep, that’s me!”

     “Are you okay?”

     “Most certainly! Are you?”

     “Well,” Astroblast hesitantly responded, not wanting his friend to get worried about him. “I took a couple hits back in a scuffle with Count Moneybone while trying to keep you away from him, but other than that, I’m fine.”

     “Well, you certainly succeeded in that, now, didn’t you?” Fiesta lightheartedly chuckled.

     “I…guess I did!” Astroblast replied with a giggle.

     “How did Moneybone even react to that?”

     “Shock.”

     “Eh, makes sense. Where are the Amigos?”

     “Count Moneybone summoned more air support bots, and I needed them to keep the robots back using the Sun Runner while I went after you on foot.” Astroblast explained. “Which basically means we’re just waiting for them to catch up at this point.”

    “I see. Guess it's time to start waiting, then!” Fiesta replied whilst placing his skeletal hands behind his head, laying one leg on top of the other, and leaning further back into Astroblast’s stomach walls.

     “Ummmm….” Astroblast awkwardly spoke upon this action, “...do you want to get out of there, or…”

     “Nah. It’s a lot safer in here, after all. And comfier. And warm. And…okay I think you get the picture.”

     “......alright, then! I’ll just…sit down, and start waiting, too.” Astroblast responded whilst carefully lowering himself to the floor, not wanting to disturb Fiesta within.

     Finally getting settled on the ground after a while, Astroblast proceeded to lay there in silence for a few seconds, before Fiesta perked up once again.

     “You know, I don’t know where you got this idea from, Astroblast, but however it happened, I guess it really does make you Astroblast Danger Guts!”

     To this, Astroblast could only give a stunned grin and a soft *pfft* sound as his uninjured cheek began blushing slightly. “...I-...I-I mean-” he struggled to form a response. “...well yeah! I… guess it really does! Heh…”

     Giving the walls he was presently snuggled up against a slight rub in solidarity, Fiesta then decided it would probably be best to stay quiet for a while.

     Thus, the two Superchargers rested silently in the midst of each other’s company, until the Sun Runner became visible over the horizon.

[dzthenerd490]

Space Marine Chapter: Adamantine Lions

Description: created on Solaris Rex, a planet originally owned by a now destroyed Necron Dynasty. After a successful battle of the Dark Angels, cleansing the world they were free to establish a DNA factory there for the Adamantine Lions. The planet was also used for science and technology development against the Necron threat. The Adamantine Lions possess a few of such technology and are now Anti-Necron killers entrusted to deal with overwhelming Necron threats.

Should another Tomb be discovered or Imperial forces, even an Imperial world is attacked by a Necron invasion the Adamantine Lions are to be deployed to deal with the threat. They are equipped with the best technology allowing them to combat any known and possibly unknown Necron threats. Most think the Adamantine Lions are overhyped as they are not seen having much gear. What most don’t realize is that they actually have more than enough to take on even a army of Necrons by themselves.

Unique Trait: A strange mutation occurred as the DNA factory was fabricating the first batch of the Adamantine Lions, and that mutation was “Disruption Roar”. This ability is why the Adamantine Lions were entrusted with the task of being an Anti-Necron Space Marine Chapter for the Imperium. When an Adamantine Lion activates “Disruption Roar” they release a loud cry, filled with frequencies that cause harm to technology, organic matter, and Psyker energy as well. Any enemy who hears this cry will have every fiber of their being disrupted and leave them greatly weakened or even killed. This ability tends to have the greatest effect against Necrons as they start to fall apart or even self-destruct once they hear this cry even from great distances. An Adamantine Lion is advised to use it only three times a day as using it any more could cause strain on their bodies weakening the overall damage the ability causes and therefore its effectiveness.

Arsenal: Specialized Regeneration Armor - The Nanofibers of the Space Marine Biosuit are reinforced with nanobots created by the Institute allowing the Space Marine Armor to fuse with the Biosuit and by extensions the nervous system of the Adamantine Lion. With this the Space Marine is capable of even greater regeneration to not only their own body and Biosuit but their armor as well. It is now possible for an Adamantine Lion to survive multiple Necron atomizer shots in a row. However, to be shot multiple times at once will be too much even for an Adamantine Lion leading to unavoidable death.

Void Braces - The braces on their arm and lower legs are capable of creating void shields that disrupt all forms of energy including atomizer blasts. With this they can further defend against the vile weaponry of the Necrons never being overwhelmed, outsmarted, or ambushed. The braces on their arms can be pinned together to temporarily create a larger and more powerful void shield.

Holy Shield of Regeneration - A Holy Weapon commonly given to all Chapters born from the Dark Angels. The Shield is strong enough to even be able to resist more than one blast from a Necron Atomizer cannon. However, should the shield or the wielder ever suffer great damage, the user can chant “May the Blessings of the Emperor shield me from pain” and both the user and the shield will heal instantly.

Bolter Sniper - a Specialized Bolter for both extensive range and damage. Able to lock onto any target from 20 miles but can shoot for at least 30. Contains 6 extended canisters of Condensed God Blood allowing stronger and more hard-hitting shots. Each Canisters is able to create 10 bolter bullets for a total of 60 shots.

Anti-Necron Blade - Specialized weaponry created for the Adamantine Lions to deal with their Necron foes. The blade created by the Institute, possesses several small generators that releases vibrations and frequencies that focus on the edge of the blade. Once it comes into contact with Necron weaponry such as Necron atomizer blades it will overload, deactivate and/or fall apart. This also works against other Necron tech such as their shields and drones. The vibrations also allow the blade to slice through the exoskeleton of a Necron like a hot knife through butter making it the ultimate Anti-Necron weapon. Not even a Necron Phaeron would be able to function normally after a single cut.

Deity of Worship: They are one of the few under the faith of Lion and believe he can still be considered a god Child despite the controversy he and his Primarchs have fallen under. Believing as a result they are true knights that are meant to vanquish the Necron threat. This however as well as the fact that they were born form the Dark Angel's is why they are distrusting of other Imperial forces and even other Space Marines. Thinking themselves and others born of the Dark Angels to be the only competent force to fight against the Necrons.

Recruitment: On Solaris Rex their exists an academy within the Capital City for young children to apply to become Adamantine Lions. They will be testing on physical capabilities, pain endurance, Necron and Imperial History, as well as Anti-Necron strategies. Every year or even every month depending on how often Adamantine Lions are to be recruited they will be tested by fighting against Artificials designed to look and act like Nercons. The Artificials will not have weapons but neither will the Applicants. The mock battles will only end when either the Artificial has been defeated, the Applicant has admitted defeat, or have had their bones broken to the point that they must be disqualified and therefore expelled from the academy; the result is quite often the last. Those few that find success in defeating the Artificial with their bare hands and tactics are selected to become Adamantine Lions.

Once selected they will be transported to the DNA factory hidden underneath the Academy where they will be placed within a Rebirth Pod. Once they have been born as an Adamantine Lion they will return to the surface of the Academy and etch their name into the wall of honor placed on the outskirts of the Academy for all to see who has become Adamantine Lions. They normally place their own names close to those of the same family to show legacy if there is any among the Adamantine Lions.

Caution Regarding Chaos:

Khorne of Sacrifice and War - Medium Risk, there might be some Adamantine Lions that grow resentful for the seemingly never-ending numbers of the Necrons despite the fact that they should have no way of reproducing. Yet despite their efforts and constant slaughtering of the Necrons, many dynasties still persist. Furthermore, new tombs are being found every year which either reinforcing numbers of already discovered dynasties or new dynasties that carry new threats. Khorn can understand their frustration and grant them the power to finish off the Necrons once and for all.

Tzeentch of Corrupting Knowledge and Magic - Immune, the Necron hold many secrets that might prove valuable to the Imperium but that's for the Institute to find out, the Adamantine Lions only care for killing them off.

Nurgle of Disease and Decay - Immune, Disease does not affect the Necrons so it means nothing to the Adamantine Lions as well.

Slaanesh of Pleasure and Pain - Medium Risk, Adamantine Lions might who are constantly shot by Necron atomizer blasts only to barely survive thanks to the Holy Shield and their Regenerative Armor might become disillusioned. They will grow to yearn for something more in life than constantly fighting between life and death, wanting to experience something that will make life more thrilling more exhilarating. Slaanesh can offer such pleasures and so much more.

Malice of Anarchy and Vengeance - Low Risk, unfortunately just like the Dark Angels who grow paranoid in later life the Adamantine Lions can grow on edge and become mentally unstable. Driven to want to disobey, to cause a little disorder, to maybe want to even slack off. The priests and researchers who created their DNA factory worked to lower the chances of this happening but were unable to make it an impossibility. As such, when those unfortunate few want to cause a little anarchy, Malice will be there to guide them.

[tilbageidanmark]

MOVIES I WATCHED THIS WEEK #206:

In a week full of many wonderful movies, India Donaldson's minimalist debut feature GOOD ONE was my most precious experience. I've seen all her previous shorts before, and I sensed this will be a 'good one'. And indeed it was. I hope she'll continue to tell super-realistic character studies like this for the rest of her career.

A middle-aged father, his perceptive 17-yo daughter, and another mess of a divorced buddy of his are going on a camping trip in the Catskills. That's the whole simple plot, but it's told with the maturity and eye-for-details of somebody who had intimately known all three. Not much is said, everything is subtle, quiet, and understated. The girl, Sam, got it all together, and the actress who plays her with such raw intelligence is a revelation. One of my best films of the year. 10/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿

2 INDIAN CLASSICS:

🍿 "Forgive me, my son"...

In HOTEL SALVATION (2016), a 77 year old man dreams that his time on earth came to an end, and he's about to die. He decides to go to the holy city of Varnasi, and his son is forced to set aside his office job, in order to accompany him on his last trip. It's a serene, spiritual story, with none of the big events shown on screen - they are all subtle, because they are peacefully inevitable. The director was 25 when he made his debut with this. 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes.

🍿 DEVDAS (2002) is pure hokum. A classic big-budget Bollywood song-and-dance excess, larger than life soap opera, with 3 mega-stars at their peak: SRK, Aishwarya Rai and Madhuri Dixit. A silly romance defeated by society prejudices, but played in the foreground of elaborate and opulent sets. The music numbers (for example Dola Re Dola, Maar Dala, Silsila Ye Chahat Ka, Sheeshe Sa Sheesha Takraye) were spectacular, the budget for glycerine tears must have been huge, but the super-melodramatic plot was ridiculous.

🍿

For a while now I had planned to re-visit the work of 94-year-old documentarian Frederick Wiseman, but his usual grim subjects deterred me. His latest 4-hour (!) saga MENUS PLAISIRS - LES TROISGROS is a good refresher why this is my type of story telling: Captured footage that observes and don't propagate, and most importantly, no voice-over, no narration, no interviews, and NO FUCKING MUSIC in the background to drown everything you see.

The fact that it's a happy topic, light as a bird song, is a huge help. Like Ken Burns' recent documentary about Leonardo, this is Wiseman’s first outside of the USA. Both of them must have felt they ought to look elsewhere to Europe for shreds of sanity and coherence today.

It's an inside look into the French Troisgros restaurant "empire" in the Loire valley and "how it works". From their spacious kitchens, tomato and cheese suppliers, smokehouse, philosophy, beekeepers, vine cellars, taste making, goats, desserts and the three Michelin stars that they’ve earned for over 50 years. it's an absolute delight from start to finish - the anti-Netflix food-porn destination.

(When I was a chef, I collected about 400 cookbooks, and my two most valuable tomes were (Salvador Dalí: Les Diners De Gala, and) the big book by The Troisgrois Brothers...)

Another one with 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes.

🍿

3 BY CZECH ANIMATOR MICHAELA PAVLÁTOVÁ:

🍿 Her ŘEČI, ŘEČI, ŘEČI ("Words, words, words") was nominated for an Oscar in 1991. A terrific wordless film about communication, very much in 'Yellow Submarine' style. In a busy cafe, speech bubbles float from people's mouths into others ears in a humorous musical patterns. 9/10.

🍿 Apparently, much of her work focuses on sex. REPETE (1995) open with the act, and then musically returns to it in many different repetitive forms. Uniquely erotic.

🍿 TRAM (2012) is perfect. A full bodied conductress drive her all-male passengers, and with every rhythmic vibration of the trolley, her fantasies gets hornier and she lets herself go. 10/10. (Full Film Above). [*Female Director*]

🍿

Another gen from ol' Czechoslovakia, THE DEATH OF STALINISM IN BOHEMIA, my 4th by mad surrealist Jan Švankmajer. A piece of modernistic agitprop about his country's history from 1948 to 1989. His most political satire, and as usual, full of bloody cut organs made out of exploding clay played to nonstop disgusting slurping, guttural sounds.

🍿

5 BY CROATIAN DAINA ONIUNAS-PUSIĆ:

🍿 In anticipation of her new, heralded A24 debut feature, 'Tuesday', I watched all her earlier shorts:

THE BEAST (2016), is a very odd look at familial abuse. A 75yo woman is angrily taking care of her invalid 100yo mother. Their relationship is uniquely cruel and unpredictable. That is before a mystical bat flies in and settles under the old woman's bed. Super weird!

🍿 WE FIGHT, BUT YOU'RE FABULOUS (2020) was made entirely of stock footage. A terrific pandemic story told only in voice over: A mother and her gay son keep bitching and complaining to each other.

🍿 RHONNA AND DONNA (2015) had an outrageous premise: One teenage sister plays Juliet in their Shakespeare school play, and her conjoined-twin doesn't want to... The mother, in this one, was just drinking wine while doing her yoga.

🍿 PRESS YOUR LIPS TOGETHER, (2011), her early film school work was also about a mother. This mother got bad news about her 13yo daughter. Slight and juvenile.

🍿 So finally, TUESDAY, another tortured saga of unusual mother and daughter relationship. First of all, it's chilly and ambitious, probably like the nightmare baby of Lynch's 'Eraserhead' [which I haven't seen yet] and 'Everything everywhere all at once'. For a young filmmaker making her debut, it's a bold 'Must see'. Mother Julia Louis-Dreyfus can't cope with the upcoming demise of Tuesday, her terminally-ill teenage daughter. A metaphorical Angel of Death, in the shape of mystical black macaw, visits her to help with her pain before he takes her away - and that in the middle of a zombie outbreak. Like 'Alice in Wonderland', their sizes changes, so they all grow and shrink all the time. Etc.

But it was too horror-like for me, and I couldn't connect. 3/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿

"Judicial errors don't exist."

'Somebody is killing the supreme court judges of Palermo, Sicily' in the 1976 ILLUSTRIOUS CORPSES. Tough guy police inspector Lino Ventura is sent from Rome to solve a series of high-profile assassinations, and uncovers collusions, political conspiracies, and corruption at the highest order of society. For me, it mostly evoked one of my favorite kinks, the leisurely sights and sounds of mid-70's Italy, as depicted on film: Dark piazzas, the half-empty alleyways, the paranoia of the communist movement...

(On a recommendation by my friend HootsMaguire.)

🍿

A WOMAN INTERVIEWED IN ONE CONTINUED SHOT X 2:

🍿 I never heard of the 1993 French masterpiece EMILIE MULLER, but as soon as I finished watching it, I had to watch it again, and then a third time! A young woman arrives for her first ever audition where she's asked to show the contents of her handbag. 10/10. It reminded me very much of another of my French favorites On S'Embrasse?

🍿 In BETTY TELLS A STORY (1972) a woman remembers how she once bought an expensive dress that she couldn't effort and never got to wear, and then tells the same story again, but this time focusing on her feelings about the events she described. 8/10. A seminal feminist work. It was later selected for the National Film Registry. [*Female Director*]

🍿

2 ABOUT PAINFUL MUSLIM TRAUMAS:

🍿 BROTHERHOOD is a very powerful Tunisian short that was nominated for the 2020 Oscars. A simple goatherd family in some remote area experiences painful upheavals when the older son return from Syria with a Burka-clad young wife. 9/10.

The young director, Meryam Joobeur, expanded this story into her latest 'Who do I belong to'. [*Female Director*]

🍿 LISTEN (2014) is a terrifying story of spousal abuse. In a small interrogation room at a Copenhagen police station, a burka-covered woman is begging for help . Her husband had beaten her severely and is now threatens to kill her. Her desperate appeal is repeated again and again but is completely misunderstood, since she only speaks Arabic. 9/10, if you can manage to watch it.

It was made in Danish and Arabic by two directors; One Zambian-Welsh, and the other Finnish-Iranian...

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For the biggest Beatles fan that I was 60 years ago, and the Beatles completist that I've became since, the new Disney documentary BEATLES ‘64 doesn't offer much new. A few unseen clips on-stage and off, David Lynch goes off about the power of music, an editing decision to connect JFK idealism and death to the joy that The Beatles "brought back" on their first US tour. One thing that is painfully obvious from all that old footage: The media blitz that fueled their rise at that time was "SO" shallow, the interviews so inane, the TV and radios just unintelligent.

I hope that they improved since. /s

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DIRECTED BY DANNY DEVITO X2:

🍿 Danny DeVito produced a bunch of movies (Erin Brockovich, Get Shorty, Gattaca), but he also directed 15 movies (including Hoffa, The war of the roses, Matilda, Throw momma from the train). The last one he finished, CURMUDGEONS, became the first ever Vimeo Stuff Pick in 2016. A wonderful surprise about a grumpy 80yo man in an assisted living facility. I had to see it twice in a row! Highly recommended! 8/10.

🍿 NEST OF VIPERS (2011) is another comedic gem with a twist, about old rich Tracey Walters on his death bed.

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HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS (the original 1966 television special). My first watch, and because this photo of Boris Karloff made me curious. Directed by Chuck Jones, and very close to Dr. Seuss original book. A radiant, unironically-gorgeous canvas. Another with 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes.

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MY FIRST 2 WITH FRENCH CLAUDE MILLER:

🍿 JULIET IN PARIS (1967) - A young student engages with a series of inexplicable and bizarre acts, including a mutilation of a kitten and drinking its blood. Godard-lite. 2/10.

🍿 In connection with the 100th anniversary of the Lumiere Brothers' first motion picture, 40 directors were each given the opportunity to shoot a 52 second film using the original hand-cranked Cinématographe camera. LUMIÈRE ET COMPAGNIE (1995) was the resulting gimmicky anthology, a curios, self-referential homage. The best usages of the limited format were 1. The recreation of the original 'Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat Station'. 2. A couple with Down Syndrome kiss. 3. Zhang Yimou's scene at the Great Wall of China. 4. A couple embrace to music, by Claude Lelouch. 5. An egg being fried by Abbas Kiarostami. 6. Spike Lee trying to get his baby daughter to say 'Daddy'. YMMV.

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THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME (1932) is HUNTING HUMANS! Sadistic count 'Zaroff' explains his perverted lust for killing humans as a prelude to having sex with their women. Very unusual and very much pre-code! With the same set-up and crew of the people who made King Kong a year later. 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes. But only 2/10 from me.

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AGAIN?!?!? - "Again!!"- IAIN RANNOCH X 2:

🍿 "Does that cover cakes?"...

Everything I repeated 8-10 times already about my favorite 'Black Mirror' episode, HATED IN THE NATION, (last time in January), still stands. It's one of the best dystopian police procedural I know about people being held responsible for their actions. And the only sequel I ever want is the one where DSI Karin Parke and her sidekick Blue Coulson team up again to solve futuristic high-tech mysteries. And that ominous soundtrack note, man! 10/10.

(I re-watched it mostly for the details of the "Hashtag Seeding" twist, which I want to use myself in my next move...)

🍿 'Black Mirror' was built as a loosely-connected universe, where details from one episode are often referred to in another. F.ex. Blue Coulson is the one who cracked Iain Rannoch's 'Souvenir file', which was the reason for her resigning from forensic. And Iain Rannoch was the child murderer in S2E2 WHITE BEAR episode. This one I saw only once before, for a good reason, and I regret seeing again. It's a sadistic torture-porn, a nasty horror story about a woman who's being punished for an unspeakable act. Mean, distressful nightmare of the very type I don't care for. 1/10. Re-watch for both ♻️.

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A BUNCH OF SHORTS:

🍿 THEN COMES THE BODY tells of a Nigerian young man who taught himself how to dance ballet from watching YouTube tutorials and of the ballet school he started in the open-sewer slums of Lagos. It's the Instagram opposite of the Frederick Wiseman's Troisgros pure documentary style from above, but the subject matter is too powerful, so that the manipulation in this one is soon forgotten. You "will" cry! 7/10.

🍿 MILTON (1992) was the original sketch, part of Mike Judge's early, crude drawings which 7 years later he transformed into 'Office Space'. Every line in this short was used in the live-action version. 8/10.

🍿 COLOUR BOX (1935), a lovely abstract British experimental film, which the Nazi labeled 'degenerate'. Excellent Cuban music score.

🍿 WHO ARE YOU? (2019) by Chilean Julio Pot is a great little animation about a novelist with a writer block. Made in a delightful 'New Yorker' Cartoon style in black with red accents, but unfortunately it was dubbed into English, by voice actors that didn't match the story.

🍿 LIFT (2001) was a semi-pointless British documentary. The director installed himself in a narrow elevator of a typical tower block, and for a long period of time tried to engage in conversation with the ordinary folks who use it. A good concept, but it never got beyond random small talk.

🍿 HI-FI (2000), an early, wordless Sean Baker mood piece. 4 teens ride a sedan through New York at night, looking to score some hard drugs. M'eh.

🍿 MADAME TUTLI-PUTLI (2007), a weird Canadian Oscar-nominated stop motion puppetry nightmare. A creepy-looking 1920's flapper girl on a metaphysical night train is running away from something into unexplainable dreams.

🍿 Jack Stauber's 2020 OPAL, an even weirder, more unsettling mishmash of horrifying trops, done in an ugly, off-putting aesthetics. Low-rent Eraserhead.

🍿 FOUR WOMEN (1975), my first by Julie Dash. A choreographed modern dance interpenetrating the Nina Simon song. [*Female Director*]

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THROW-BACK TO THE ADORA ART PROJECT:  

Adora loves to cook.

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(ALL MY FILM REVIEWS - HERE).

[demiboydemon]

Made the antis real mad with this one

(Didn’t blur the name bc it’s a pseudonym)

(Fic link under cut)

Taped Up, Tied Down (5116 words) by demiboy_demon Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda) Characters: Link (Legend of Zelda), Zelda (Legend of Zelda) Additional Tags: Duct Tape, Bondage, Vibrators, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Punishment, Safe Sane and Consensual, Dom/sub, BDSM, Dom Link (Legend of Zelda), Sub Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Embarrassment, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Precum Eating, Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, no beta we die like Link's friends, Nude Photos, Zelda is super into it though, Pre-TotK, Purah is an adult in this one, Vaginal Fingering, Overstimulation Series: Part 1 of Zelda’s Adventures In Subbing Summary: It's stressful to be a queen. It's only natural to want someone else to take over for a little bit. When Zelda gets overwhelmed by, well, her life in general, she asks Link to help her de-stress. The best way (and definitely a healthy way to solve your problems) to help your partner with stress is of course, to tape them to a vibrator all evening.