#I'm sorry these reviews are getting so long hopefully it's not annoying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sinisterexaggerator · 1 year ago

Note

Oh, no. It does not bother me. I am not annoyed! I love this kind of stuff. I think every fic writer kind of does. It’s just the high praise itself that blows my mind because someone is bothering to break down my fic and analyze it and tell me everything they liked, which is so very nice and cool and amazing basically. Like, I read this and it made my day. Sorry it took me a while to get back. Life has been weird and kicking my ass, kind of, but hopefully things will start to be a little more normal soon.

AHHH! Yes. Consistency is key. Also, I am just a weirdo perfectionist, and everything has to match everything else and follow a specific order and make complete sense to me or I won’t be happy wahhhhh. But, hell yeah. It makes me happy that you noticed!! I am thrilled you think so! I strive for thissssss. Accuracy and consistency (and characterization). As far as headcanons, they have some basis in fact whereas something the character has done, said, or implied has led my brain to think certain things. That part is out of my control, LOL. xD

Thank you, thank you, thank you! Plot is of course important, too! Once in my life I made something self-indulgent that did not have a set-up, and while it was fun, it took out the best part: being creative and having fun with just making the plot and piecing it all together in a cohesive way that brings me satisfaction and happinessssss…

Ohhh, yes, the rings. I am into hands, too. We’ve talked about this. And Hondo having so many rings is such a small detail that I LOVE LOVE LOVE. Why is it so sexy? Do not ask me, I do not know. It just is. And his long, slender fingers? Mmmph.

LOL, the ending was a fun one! He leaves you all high and dry. Poor you. Guess Maz is going to see your ass naked as she uncuffs you, and when she asks what happened and you say “Hondo,” she will laugh and shake her head. Maybe she doesn’t even comment, or maybe she will say something smartassed like, “I always did take him as kinky.”

But yeah!! Hondo is amazing! He is so complicated, intriguing, and nuanced. Sometimes it is hard to tell where the charming scoundrel ends and the real man begins! And he’s so clever, so smart! The façade he wears, that mask, the ability to act as a buffoon when in reality he is weighing all of his options and making strategic calculations under the guise of a dastardly smile. It just…SENDS ME.

“I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT PART I'M ON BUT I SEE POUTING AND SAD BOY OLD MAN ACTING AND I AM DYING OKAY?”

That though? ^^^

I admit when I first wrote that scene, Hondo pouting, and even afterward, I would make myself sad thinking about it. LIKE OMG HOW DARE ME. HOW DARE I MAKE HIM SAD. OMG I HATE IT. But, it’s OK because it was all a ruse, anyway. Oooh, that sneaky bastard. >D

Re: THANK YOU!!!!!!! I love you. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS AND YOUR REVIEW! I appreciate it!!!

Give me one night Hondo Ohnaka lover please?

Title: Trust me

Summary: Hondo Ohnaka sits at Maz's Castle on Takodana contemplating his many misfortunes and his strife. The Clone Wars have ended, but that does not mean his troubles have - that's when he sees you, and you are staring at his portrait. Perhaps the night will fair better than the day, but that all depends on you.

Notes: This is my first time writing a Hondo x Reader! I normally write for Cad Bane and Shriv Suurgav! I have ideas for more already! ;D Comments / reblogs are appreciated!

Hondo is slightly depressed and a little subdued in this fic - at least at first. It takes place after the Clone Wars have ended/during the Rise of the Empire Era and after Skragg has stolen his possessions/the loyalty of all his men. He has lost everything, so he is out of sorts. One thing though, I could not give up the inclusion of his coat.

PS: The portrait that I mention is "canon" and can be seen in Star Wars: Battlefront 2 at Maz's Castle hanging on the wall.

Word count: 5.5+

Warnings: NSFW / 18+ for smut, fingering, face-sitting, cunnilingus, penis in vagina sex (consensual and gentle), multiple orgasms, light-bondage, and role reversals/switching.

[ AO3 ]

______

“Cheer up, friend! It can’t be all that bad!” Maz Kanata said. The Weequay sitting at her bar was mopey; his head was downturned as his grey eyes studied the bubbling liquid within his tankard. He shifted to gaze at her beyond a set of wide rimmed goggles - they were apart of him like so many other things that adorned his person – all stolen.

“Everything’s gone, Maz. What could possibly be worse than that? My starships; my treasure; my crew; my men, my Kowakian monkey; my most prized possessions! Even all the women! First the Separatists, the Empire, and now that nefarious traitor, Gwarm!” Hondo Ohnaka sighed, reminiscing on his past life. He had been the most feared pirate captain in all the galaxy, his Ohnaka Gang renown from the Core worlds to the Outer Rim territories.

“She even stole my name!” Now he was nothing; a nobody; just a Weequay without a home. The only things left to him were the golden rings bedecking his ridged fingertips - his Deservrar battle helmet - his signature coat taken from a nobleman. These items he did not give up. The clothes off his thick-skinned back were his only personal effects. That, and a few meagre credits.

“Well, you could be dead!” the small woman quipped, observing his long face from beneath a pair of unique spectacles. Hondo thought she had a point though loathe to admit it to himself with the way he felt.

“Yes, I suppose you are correct. At least you have a most handsome painting to remember me by when the inevitable happens.” He raised his mug in the direction of his self-proclaimed graven image, sure to be fawned over for generations, even after the pirate himself had finally met with Maker, though perhaps Maz would still be around to tell his tale.

That’s when he noticed you; you were beautiful and staring at his portrait. His eyes lit up with a little spark of something; you ignited within him a flame of hope as he contemplated all the possibilities of what this could mean for a lonely man like him, but only if he played his cards right…

“Excuse me, Maz.” Hondo stood abruptly, sliding across his barstool. He smoothed out the wrinkles of his crimson coat as he straightened to his full stature. He took a breath, regained himself, or at least a part of him. He brushed one braid back behind his armored shoulder as he reached deep within to retrieve his pomp; his brass; his old confidence, approaching you from the rear – and what a rear it was.

He admired you before bothering to say a word – vuluptous. You wore an unembellished dress, tightened around your hips by a belt lined with varied pouches. You sported a cropped jacket, open, to reveal a deep rent of cleavage; your boots were worn, your hair was down there appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary except for your uncommon comeliness.

He moved to stand beside you, Hondo folding his arms behind his back as he clasped his hands. He stood transfixed as he stared at his own portrait before his beguiling voice filled the space between you; it was lacquered with a façade of gentleness; nobility, artful in its expression, yet Hondo was far from an aristocrat – even scoundrels could have manners - his mother taught him well.

“I couldn’t help but notice you have exquisite taste. The artist truly captured the subject’s dashing good looks, wouldn’t you agree, my dear?”

You were aware of who the man was beside you - you had seen him earlier talking to the sole proprietor – he was on your radar before he ever noticed you, and his advance only made things easier. You mulled over his egotism - should you try to break it just for fun? Should you finesse yourself into his favor as he expected you to do? The potentialities were endless, you could create entire alternate realities based on a few scant words. Oh, but Hondo didn’t know you were that cunning, or a woman who could match his level of crookery and craftiness; you were dangerous.

You decided to buy in.

You didn’t face him but pretended to be unaware of who the Weequay was. You tipped toed forward to get a better look at the portrait or feigned to. “This particular Weequay’s eyes are captivating in their ability to entrance you. They are warm, yet mischievous. There is a twinkle of something hidden within their alluring depths - he has secrets, and he is unwilling to share them with me.”

A smirk was toying at the corner of your lips - you thought that might do the trick – you had chosen your words carefully so as to flatter the man’s self-esteem.

“What do you think?” you asked the pirate with your back still turned. You were giving him the perfect opportunity to make the moves on you. He better make it good.

Hondo Ohnaka smiled deviously as he adjusted the right cufflink of his striped tunic, more to give his hands something to do as he waited an appropriate length of time before responding to you. His reply held a modicum of effervescence, his syrupy voice laced with vainglorious arrogance, yet you would not deny it could easily hold sway over you if you allowed it to.

“I think you are astute in your observations. Perhaps you would enjoy looking into those eyes in person? It might be prudent to test your hypothesis before deciding one way or another what kind of man this Weequay really is. He might pleasantly surprise you.”

And here it was - the time for you to put on your charade - test your acting skills.

“And what would you know of that, Mister…?”

You turned to face the speaker; your gasp was wholly believable. You faintly touched your chest in a mock show of surprise.

“Hondo Ohnaka, at your service.” The knavish devil bowed, sweeping one arm forward in a featly twirl as it came to rest across his personage. He rose with a grin from ear to ear, quite satisfied that he had marveled you into such a state of awe.

Your visage changed; you became the knave, though your intentions were to seduce the rascal if it was even necessary.

Your hand along your bosom lightly glided behind your ear as you forged a blush; it quickly got lost in your lush curls. You spun a strand along your finger as you bat your lashes, your words dripping with licentious intonations.

“And what services do you offer?” you inquired coyly.

Hondo reached out for you with his hand laden in golden rings, his palm turned upward as he silently requested the presence of your own within his. You humored him, impressing your fingers along his. Those digits coiled and brought you close with a gentle tug so that he might implant a kiss. His lips were thin, warm to the touch, and soft as silk - they left behind the sensation of a tingle.

“That depends on you love, and what you’re in the market for,” he retorted deftly.

He disengaged, not lingering more than he thought sensible. You took the opportunity to softly brush your fingertips along his frills before retracting your appendage. The man exuded a small sound of yearning, though he took a deep breath and bit his tongue to prevent himself from coming on too strong. Oooh, you were a wily one…

“I have a few ideas. Afterall, it’s not every day you meet the great pirate captain Hondo Ohnaka in the flesh,” you stated plainly, laying the compliments on thick.

“So you have heard of me – that’s more than I bargained for – though not unexpected.” “Great” was an adjective he was largely fond of.

“Oh, I’ve heard many things,” you japed, taking a step forward, one perfectly trim nail grazing the armor across his shoulder. It slid down, trailing the length of his unique skin between the ‘V’ shape enriched with gilded thread. It was supple, downy, yet exceptionally tough, like a Saurin, or a Trandoshan, perhaps, though smoother, more refined, like the man himself.

Hondo cleared his throat, his charcoal-colored irises catching you with a look that nearly took your breath away from behind his goggles. Instead, he grasped your hand again; he held it still against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat. This simple, yet intimate gesture had disarmed you in totality.

“I only hope I can live up to them,” he demurred.

---

You had coaxed Hondo to your lair, like the spider had the fly, or had he coaxed you? It was hard to tell the difference.

You had rented a room here on Takodana right inside Maz’s castle for the night, and this was the specific reason why. It had a lovely view of Nymeve Lake, though the only view you cared for was right in front of you. You scarcely made it there - you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself – you were explorative, and the pirate hardly protested.

You were surprised by your depraved appetites; there was just something about the man. He had powerful charisma, though he was supposed to play into your hands. He had barely touched you; you were so voracious, and he could not deny it was a boost to his self-regard, not that he needed much of one.

“I appreciate your- mmn.” His words were cut off by your richly hued lips; they anchored against his, unyielding, until you pushed your tongue between his teeth.

The man moaned into your parted mouth, his thickset muscle winding around yours in a calculated set of movements that catalyzed the stirring of your loins. You had pinned him to a wall outside your door, arms and all. His wrists were limp beneath your hands - it was a kind of role reversal that he was used to - the pirate had been the lover of Aurra Sing; he let you have your way with him.

“Make love to me,” you whispered against his kiss, tugging him forward as he dutifully followed, though far be it from him to try and break your purchase. He was rather enjoying this.

“I daresay, you present a most convincing-”

It seems you would not allow him to finish speaking. Normally he might have sorely hated to be interrupted, but for this occasion it was warranted.

Your hands slipped down below his waistline as your mouths were joined; he didn’t bother to investigate what you might be up to. You had unlocked the door; pushed it open; the other hand kindly ran along the apex of his many frills. The man stopped you there. He clasped your hand with one of his. You let out a small gasp as he benignly berated you for touching them.

“Careful, darling, I cannot control what might become of me if you keep doing that.”

Something happened. Cold durasteel had met with his slender wrist. He heard a click then felt something small, obtrusive, and unforeseen pressed upon his person right afterward. He glanced down to find a palmed sized hold-out pistol fit snuggly against his guts. His skin was blaster-resistant, but at this close range he would not be one to risk a hasty move.

“Your other hand, please,” you requested tersely.

The Weequay hmphed, almost laughing at himself. He did as he was told; he released you and lowered his other arm. You quickly bound him in your binder -; the pouches along your belt were full of an assortment of deadly goodies that aided you in your profession – you were a bounty hunter.

Oh, but this had been hard to do. You were fraught with an internal struggle. You wanted him all to yourself, but you also desired to turn him in for the credits that he was worth - a slighted clan had put a sizeable price upon his head.

The man must have seen something within your eyes, for he spoke to you with cloying sweetness, though his words were tinged with disappointment as he rebuked himself – it was a new kind of game.

“I should have known that you were not truly interested in me. I am but a shadow of my former self, though I do applaud you. You would make a most excellent pirate, my dear. I have never felt so double-crossed.”

He looked sad, downtrodden, and though he was partially, he was putting on an act in hopes that you might drop your guard- make you feel sorry for him – to his pleasure it was working.

His pout; those lowered eyes now bereft of their happy glow. You tried to touch him again, his cheek, but you were shunned. He turned away from you and gazed down at the floor as he sighed out a forlorn breath that hitched, ragged in his throat. You felt scolded as your heart sank; you were moved by his sudden humbleness.

“Please, I beg of you - do not toy with my emotions any further. Let us get this over with.” The hurt was obvious – you had wounded his pride, his undoubtedly fragile ego. You had heard of his many failures, the bad luck he had been dealt; you bit your lip as you studied him.

You spoke without thinking. You couldn’t help yourself. You replaced your weapon as you twirled with him, keeping him trapped between the entrance of your rented room and the outside hall. “Perhaps we can make a deal.”

He would have smiled but he wouldn’t dare to. He kept up his façade; his head never lifted as he quietly told you the truth, conceding to your display of dominance. “I have nothing to offer you except myself.”

He lightly jingled the cuffs that currently confined him. “And that, I am afraid, you already have.”

It had been a whisper; he implanted the idea into your mind without you noticing. He was succumbing to your authority, giving you control over him; it was a boon, and not something many could have ever claimed to do.

You gathered his chin between your index and your thumb; you forced him to look at you. He blinked once, languidly, before his argentine sky-colored eyes bore deeply into yours - they were the cast of a coming storm - achromatic, but oh-so-beautiful.

“For that I ask permission.”

He never wavered as he looked at you. “Any stipulations?”

“One of your many rings should suffice – enough to cover the bounty that would be owed to me.”

“How do I know this is not a trick? You might decide to take the bounty out on me and the gold.

“You don’t – you’ll just have to trust me.”

He thought it over or at least pretended to. “I accept.”

He brought his arms up, waiting to be freed, a pitiful look etched across his leathery countenance.

“Not a chance. I can’t have you running off on me quite yet.”

“A wise decision,” he stated simply.

---

The Weequay waited with downcast eyes as you undressed for him. He was attempting to be respectful, though he caught a glimpse of naked skin and betrayed you with a glance. You were in your lacey undergarments but the rest of you was bare. You crooked a finger as you beckoned him.

He stepped forward to the bed and you latched onto the center of the cuffs; a length of chain separated one hand from the other. You pulled him towards you; you wanted to devour him with another kiss. You serried your lips against his hungrily. He made the motions, though timid, behaving unlike he had before. You backed away to regard him, your frown apparent.

“Don’t you want me anymore?”

The longer he kept this performance going, the more and more believable it would seem, he told himself. After all, you had never met before or spoken before this night. He was sure his reputation proceeded him, though that didn’t mean you were aware of the many tricks and stratagems that Hondo could seemingly pull out of thin air - his unmatched theatrics being one of them – he could rival your performance.

“You are beautiful,” he informed you, “but I do not know what you want of me. I do not wish to-”

“Hondo.” You ran your fingers along one of his stray braids, fingering the end of it; the hair was wispy; you enjoyed its texture. “I want all of you, or the deal is off.”

“Then all of me you shall have.”

The Weequay kissed you then with balmy passion; his lips were soothing, as were his hands. He had raised his arms, ribbed digits tenderly caressing you even as they were bound, your rosy cheeks finding their way to the center of his palms. His touch was temperate, delicate, as if you were a fragile flower or an expensive work of art; his tongue crept forward to dance with yours if you would so allow.

He placed a knee upon your borrowed bed; he crept forward, coercing you to rest one foot and calf atop the coverlet. His fingers inched back to either side of your slender neck as he cradled you behind your ears. He realized he could have choked you, killed you right then and there with your own cuffs. You seemed none the wiser, oblivious to the danger as his tongue was now full flush inside your mouth.

The pirate decided not to do that, though he guided his cinched hands downward and cupped your lavish breasts. His moans were subdued, quiet, as he carefully massaged your flesh beneath your lingerie. His other knee joined the first; he used a small amount of subtle force to sit you down. He dipped you back upon your pillows the best he could - you fell gradually with his attentive aid - your hair tumbling around you like the halo of an angel; Hondo thought you luxurious.

The Weequay straddled you; he was now in a position of power over you, though he labored not to notice. He would ride it out.

He watched captivated as you undid the hooks, pushing down the straps to reveal your soft mammalian tissue for him to grope and fondle as he so wished. He adjusted his overcoat in an awkward fashion; it was proving difficult. He brushed it halfheartedly away by the point of his own elbow as he backed up, craning over you. He sowed felicitous kisses along your pulse point, your shoulders, beyond your clavicle, and down the center of your chest.

He lingered along your sternum before turning to your bosom, his lips leaving you in the throes of horripilation as the tiny hairs along your arms stood upright out of longing and excitement. He was being methodical, tortuous in his ministrations, his tongue finally extending to ghost your readily awaiting nipple. You emitted a small sound of elatedness as he had presently found his mark – he was good at that.

Your vocalization only seemed to encourage him; he compressed your other breast with the clawing of his fingers. He drove his hardened cock against your lower leg, though it remained hidden beneath his trousers. He sucked your teat with unrestrained enthusiasm as he let his instincts overtake him. He nipped you with his teeth, though very gently. He unlocked and released, not wanting to ignore the other breast. He gave each one attention in due time, leaving behind a trace of moist saliva.

He had begun his descent, though he nearly slipped along your abdomen in attempting a more complicated enterprise. Half of it might have been done on purpose but you would never know the opposite. He paused, looking at up at you from the transparisteel inset within his eyewear. The glass surface reflected the luminescence produced from the only lamp within the room, bouncing back at you. His expression changed, taking on notes of a patient lust, waiting idly as those steely, slanted eyes nearly caused your heart to stop.

“This would be much easier, and a far more pleasant experience for the both of us, if you would be so kind as to free my hands.”

You were nearly persuaded by his salacious mien alone; you were tempted to give in. His voice was honey in your ears; his gaze was hypnotizing. You had reached out towards your belongings where the key was stored before you stopped yourself; there was a glimmer in his pupils that made you second-guess; you had many doubts about the sentient, and this was one of them.

“No,” you firmly answered him. “How do I know you won’t betray me?”

He gave you only what could be described as a wicked grin. “You don’t – you will just have to trust me.”

He bent down from his position and kissed your inner thigh, suckling your skin. He left a tiny placement of broken capillaries in his wake before he adeptly convinced you otherwise.

“Come. Let me make you… feel alive,” he whispered as his hairline mouth wandered further inward towards your still clothed sex. You were undeniability turned on - you had surpassed aroused.

You thought you might regret this, but your desire for him carnally overpowered your resolve as did his lustrous baritone.

You fumbled for the key; you undid the binders hastily. You didn’t bother to replace them, you only left them off to the side as you were still entranced by the Weequay’s eyes.

Hondo rubbed one wrist, evocative of a man who had been subjected to undue imprisonment for a great length of time, though he murmured his approval, smiling all the while.

“That’s better.”

His fingers curled around either side of your underwear; he rolled them down your knees and off your ankles. He dropped them off by the vertex of two fingers in a moment of tomfoolery.

“You won’t be needing these,” he teased.

He made another set of motions; he removed several of his rings, oh, but they weren’t for you. Not yet. They were safely put away into his pocket.

Your breath caught in your throat as Hondo lowered his entire body to match up with your own. You were eye to eye now as he kissed you, and he had sunk two fingers deep inside your cunt without so much as a warning. His other hand ran through your hair, stroking you in a loving manner, his thumb petting you along your forehead as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

“You’re already so wet, love. Is it all for me?”

The skillful extremities inside your body’s cavity nestled to the hilt with the help of your excessive slick, their zeniths pressing lightly against the center of your pleasure. He shifted, biting your lower lip as your mouth parted, having been immersed in the unique sensation in summation.

It was a cautious nibble before his warm muscle encircled yours, his erection riding against your hip. A dulcet whine escaped him, a tone that was most agreeable, for it caused you to peak along with the overwhelming prowess with which Hondo Ohnaka administered his cunning expertise.

You bit back the sounds of your release, refusing to wake the entire castle, though this disappointed Hondo. He was out to get you now.

“The nerve of you,” he scoffed.

You felt each rib of his alien extremities as they left you empty, sliding out with ease thanks to your abundant secretions though not enough for him.

“I want to hear you sing, my dear.”

He crept backward on his hands and knees, delving into your already soaked mound. He spread your lower lips apart with his thumb and index, titillating you with just the tip of his thick tongue across your clit. You squirmed, reaching back to grasp the bedframe as your chest heaved, pressing your lips together as you writhed.

He noticed the fight you gave; he redoubled his own efforts. His entire tongue entered you, sampling your nectar. The pad of his ridged thumb expertly rubbed your bundle of ardent nerves as he fucked you with his mouth, feasting like a starving animal.

You came again, albeit quietly; you were forcing yourself not to scream even as your toes curled inward. You were so overtaken by the depths of your own feelings, your body’s fervor, that you were surprised when Hondo grabbed you by the hips and forced you to roll over.

You found that he was beneath you; he had positioned you atop his face. You quickly readjusted so as not to smother him though the pirate would not have minded. Your breasts hung above his head as you steadied yourself against the bedposts. He moved to clutch your replete bosom so that he could belaud and worship them with both his hands.

The vibration of his vocal cords as he crooned aloud from the taste of you sent a shiver down your spine as it only added to the eroticism of this whole affair. He tweaked your nipples, the little pinch sending a sharp prickle throughout your entire being. He was involuntarily steaming up his own goggles as his nose flared, breathing in your delightful scent and nearly stifling himself against your malleable flesh; unlike his, it was pliant and extraordinarily fun to grabble.

That made three times; you were a little louder on this occasion, unable to regulate yourself as his effective muscle snaked and embedded itself into your sateen couloir.

Your back arched as you covered his hands upon your breasts with your own palms. You threshed in an effort to control yourself, though Hondo strategically placed his knee behind your back, pushing you forward so that you could not escape your orgasm.

Once you had calmed yourself, once the buzz and thrum had ebbed away, you found yourself struggling to breathe but Hondo wasn’t done with you - far from it.

You chirped, articulating your surprise with a belt of air expelling from your aching lungs as he pushed you back upon his lap. He wiped his mouth off before he simpered, asking you a straightforward, yet somehow loaded question.

“Top, or bottom, my dear?”

“Both.”

You leapt at him, kissing him along his face and frills, down his neck and towards his exposed chest. You undid the clasp that held his pants up, then pushed them down far enough to reveal his manhood. It was stout, slightly above average, and ridged like the rest of him, though fleshier than his otherwise hardened exterior. There were extra nodes which looked like they might be fun to ride; no use staring at it, you would never know until you tried.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Hondo noted as you aligned yourself and winded down along his cock. The man himself breathed unevenly as he watched you impale yourself.

“Do take your time, love, you don’t want me to- mmn...”

You didn’t listen to him; you made waves across his member. Your entire body fluctuated as you had become a human sheath, investing your whole self.

Ohhh, and his ribs and crests; his distinctly alien appendage. It felt so good steeped all the way to the end of your vaginal canal.

You moaned aloud, a fourth orgasm building up. He placed his hand along and behind your back, one resting against your lower abdomen. Both of you could feel him behind your velvet walls, the outline present through your skin as he cupped himself within you from without.

“Mm, Hondo…” you sighed out, leaning back precariously on your outspread palms. It only made things feel tighter inside you, allowing the man to further experience every inch of you enwrapped around his phallus.

“That’s it, darling. Slow and steady,” he serenaded you, his praise in that husky voice veneered with ambrosia, auditory, and nearly making you cum all on its own.

This time you vocalized. It was heavenly. Your voice most assuredly soared beyond the door and throughout the castle’s many halls.

Just as you thought you might recover, just as your body settled down, Hondo latched onto your waist and flipped you with the utmost care still imbued within your already twitching cunt. He smiled audaciously, eyeing you with obvious pretension as he casually reminded you of your previous rejoinder to his query.

“That makes four now, doesn’t it? But who’s keeping count? Let us not forget you wanted both.”

He plunged his groin into you, although laggardly, forcing you to feel every stroke of him inside you; it was almost excruciating – in the best possible way. One hand came up, carding; combing; brushing your flaccid strands away from your eyes and forehead as he gazed into yours with his of silver, his tongue finding yours stationary inside your mouth as you saw stars.

That’s when you heard the click.

You were so overcome with zeal;, so bewitched and enchanted by this Weequay’s abilities and well-honed skills, that you never saw it coming. He had locked one cuff around your wrist as you were steadying yourself from aloft, having already made it easy for him. He dragged your arm further upward as he wrapped the chain around the wooden railing, though he was mindful of not hurting you.

You tried to fight him off, but another orgasm was overtaking you. It gave him time to bind your other hand in the same manner leaving you entirely trapped and at his mercy, yet his languorous, indolent caresses never ceased upon your innards, even as you hummed his name.

You were now locked between yourself and the bed itself, the chain wrapped around the frame somewhat loosely, though it fastened both your hands in place.

Once finished, he occupied himself on what really mattered; your pretty accentuations as you came for the fifth time that very night. You didn’t have time to think about what you might have gotten yourself into; his pride would be through the roof.

He pumped harder into you, his hips picking up their pace. He was near himself, though he didn’t want to be presumptuous. He rocked backward as he made his own sounds of jubilation; you knew he was planning to escape. You wanted to feel his seed within you; you were well protected of your own accord.

“Cum inside me,” you commanded lightly.

He did as he was ordered throughout a series of euphoric gesticulations across his handsome face. He had never even bothered to undress; he still wore his coat; his goggles; his boots and all. It seemed ideal for the situation - the one where he ultimately two-timed you - a quick getaway was his priority.

He was expended; he lay there atop you for a moment. He brushed his fingertips across your lips. You both didn’t move for several minutes until the sound of jingling durasteel invaded the lingering silence. He smirked at you before he rose, stood, and readjusted, cinching the buttons to his trousers.

“I suppose you can only blame yourself for this,” he noted, brushing a mote of something off the sleeve of his crimson coat.

“Trusting me, that is.”

His eyes returned to yours; that impish grin still present at the corner of his mouth.

“I have to say – despite everything - you have lifted my spirits! To feel so desired by a beautiful woman, even knowing it was for the bounty on my head, to remember that I am worth something - credits, your undying devotion - made it all worthwhile.”

Your sultry gaze met his as you lay naked, refusing to give him the enjoyment of seeing you upset – to lose your cool would be ignorant of you.

“Glad I could help,” you stated nonchalantly though your voice was laced with sarcasm.

“Ah, more than you know…”

The pirate had moved to stare out over the pristine lake, studying something within the expansive yard. “Tell me, darling… is that your YV series light freighter parked out there? Seems the appropriate mode of transportation for one such as yourself – a bounty hunter, of all things…”

The worry and fear that overtook you for a single instant answered his question better than anything you could have said. You shook the cuffs more harshly as he tutted his reproach at your brash actions.

“I’m in the market for a ship; yours might do the trick, for now, until I find something much more suited to my tastes.”

He came forward then, the sound of his boots echoing across the cobblestone; he stroked your silky locks, frowning down upon you. “Please, do not hurt yourself. There is no need for such behavior.”

He planted one more kiss along your lips before he delved into his pocket and withdrew one golden ring. He inlaid it upon your finger though too big for you. It was his repayment.

“I shall inform Maz you are in a bit of a situation. But that is to be expected, is it not? Cavorting … bargaining with pirates …especially ones you try to double-cross - you’re better than that.”

He waved his fingers at you in a foppish brandish, a flourish by all standards. He crossed the threshold to the now open door; he nodded once, tipping his head to you, then he closed you in. You sighed, for he was right. You had done this to yourself.

But it had been so worth it in the end …

---

Masterlist

#thank you #kind words #fanfic #hondo ohnaka

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null-whump · 2 years ago

Text

Project Echolocation - Part 1

You all have no idea how excited (and nervous) i am to finally be posting this. i really hope at least some of you enjoy the shift in genre from me, because this new story is super fun for me!

I'm kickstarting it with whumptober, but I'm not going to be posting every day in October; instead, I'm combining prompts so that I'll be posting every 2-3 days. Hopefully I'll be able to put out longer updates that way, and it'll also be less stress for me lmao.

as always, let me know if i forgot to tag/warn for anything, and if you want to be put on a tag list.

One last thing! I posted a little prologue for this story; it's not necessary to read to understand the story, but it's pretty short and can offer some context for a few characters.

this first updates fills whumptober prompts for days 1, 2, and 3;

Day 1: "This wasn't supposed to happen"

Day 2: Cornered/confrontation

Day 3: Gun to temple/"Say goodbye"

Warnings: blood/injury (discussed), hostage situation, vaguely(?) implied future torture

Word Count: 2,731

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

If you asked Sol when everything started going wrong, he would say it was the second he laid eyes on Cent – if that even was his real name. Things started going worse, he would say, when Cent opened his mouth for the first time. Sol figured that most people would scoff if he told them that, because there was no possible way he could have predicted all of this from their first interaction. Sol would then graciously point them toward his first official review of Cent, and then his second, and his third, so on and so forth. The point is, Sol always knew Cent was up to no good, and that didn’t just come from a disdain for the way the other man treated him.

So yes, maybe Sol didn’t predict this exact situation – their largest safe house under siege, all electronic communication rendered inoperable, and a 17-hostage situation playing out one floor below where Grim and Sol stood – but he had known that something like this would happen. If anyone bothered to listen to him, maybe they wouldn’t be in this mess.

“You mean if I had listened to you,” Grim said, and Sol realized he had spoken that last part out loud.

Sol must have been more annoyed than he first thought. He hadn’t slipped up and spoken aloud in public in years; not that there was anyone but Grim around to hear it. Better safe than sorry, though.

“Well, if you want to put it that way, then yes,” Sol signed. His left wrist protested the movements, and he prayed that it wasn’t sprained from the fall he had taken earlier. That would be just his luck.

Grim rolled his eyes. “Is now really the time? It’s not like I liked Cent any more than you did.”

Sol gave his partner a withering stare before signing again. “One of us actually had the power to do something about it.”

“There was no evidence beyond a bad feeling,” Grim hissed. “How many times do I have to apologize?”

“A couple more, at least.”

“You can have all the apologies you want when this situation has been dealt with.” Grim pulled out his pistol and began reloading it. “If we can stall them downstairs long enough for Nova to get our coms back online, then maybe we’ll hear from Alt about backup – but with the hostages we’ll have to be careful, and who knows how much enforcement they have on the way…if only we had access to the cameras, we would be able to plan this better.”

Sol didn’t interrupt, even though he knew that Grim’s worrying and strategizing wouldn’t be needed in the end. They both knew who Cent and his officers from the Union were really after, even if Grim didn’t want to admit it. Sol, at least, knew how this day would end, and it wasn’t going to be pretty for him. A small, desperate part of him whispered that maybe they could find another solution, but he had learned long ago that it was better not to cling to unrealistic hopes. It just made letting go of them harder.

“We need to get down there,” Grim said. “Maybe we can at least hear what’s going on, and if we can sneak up on them –”

Sol laid his hand on Grim’s arm, and shook his head when Grim looked at him, then moved his hand back to sign again.

“And what if we can’t? And someone gets killed?”

Grim’s eyes hardened. “I’m not going to let you hand yourself over without even trying to get out of this another way.”

Sol frowned, and his signs became sharper. “That was always the plan. I was always the plan – so that no one else would get hurt – or killed.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t –” Grim slammed his fist into the wall next to him, his words dissolving into an angry growl. He let out a shaky breath, and his eyes drilled holes into the concrete. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he whispered. “We weren’t supposed to…that was a last resort. We weren’t supposed to have to rely on it.”

Sol’s chest ached. He had anticipated how difficult this would be for himself – it wasn’t like he wanted to waltz into the Union’s arms and let them rip him apart – but he wasn’t as concerned about that, as with knowing how much this would hurt Grim. Sol knew that Grim would rather die than allow Sol to be taken; that he would gladly throw himself into any danger if it meant Sol was safe. But Sol wasn’t going to let that happen. Not when he could easily prevent it.

Sol stepped forward and raised his hand to brush against Grim’s face, where blood from a gash on his cheek had dried into a crimson trail. He lifted himself onto his toes so that he could kiss the taller man’s lips, savoring the feeling that he would miss for…a long time, to be sure.

When he broke away, Grim seized his hand, his gloves rough against Sol’s calloused palms.

“You don’t have to do this,” Grim said, pleaded.

Sol’s lips burned and his throat ached when he spoke, barely a whisper. “I know.” He slowly pulled his hand away from Grim’s hold so that he could sign, “I love you. I’ll be alright.”

Grim took a steadying breath and blinked furiously. “Alright.” His voice was hoarse. “Alright. Let’s get down there before Cent gets trigger happy.”

Sol allowed himself to be relieved that Grim wasn’t putting up too much of a fight against him. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to argue right now, and he suspected Grim felt the same. Grim led them downstairs, and Sol let him put all of his energy into deciding their route, and their course of action when they reached the coms room, where Cent and his forces were holed up. Even if it meant he didn’t have much to distract himself from his own impending doom.

‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ he scolded himself. ‘It’s not like they’re going to kill you. Not right away, at least.’ He winced. The alternative wasn’t much better.

He focused his thoughts on Grim instead. That was why he was doing this, after all. Because the Union wasn’t leaving here without something to show for their effort, and the plan, in the event of a situation like this, was for Sol to be the one taken. Ever since they started their operation, nearly a decade ago, that had always been the plan. Sol had had plenty of time to prepare for the inevitable.

Even so, he didn’t feel very prepared.

‘Come on, Speaker,’ he told himself. He and Grim prepared themselves to round the corner, where they would be face to face with the Union forces guarding the coms room. ‘Give them a show. That’s what you’re good at, after all.’

------

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite shadows,” Cent exclaimed as Sol and Grim were shoved into the room – at gunpoint, of course. “I don’t suppose either of you can tell me where to find the Speaker, or anyone of any importance, really.” He tilted his head and smiled, and Sol noted with annoyance that he didn’t appear to have a scratch on him. How he had managed to avoid that, Sol had no idea. Probably by hiding like a coward.

The guard behind Sol prodded between his shoulders with the barrel of his gun, and Sol stepped forward. Grim was still beside him, and Sol forced himself not to look at his partner; but he could feel the tension and anxiety from Grim’s presence either way. Cent was still talking, gesturing with his gun at the huddled group of hostages to his left.

“I really didn’t want to have to kill more people than necessary,” he was saying, his easy smirk revealing the lie. “But I do need results sooner rather than later. Hell, I don’t even know if the Speaker will care if I kill everyone in this building, but I have to start somewhere, right?” He raised his voice with his last sentence, and turned to the equipment set up in the back – the microphone and computers blinked back at him, a clear indication that they were broadcasting.

Everyone on base was probably listening – everyone who wasn’t being mobilized to come help, that it is. Nova and Alt were listening, that much Sol knew for sure, along with the rest of the Inner Circle.

Quite the audience.

Sol took a steadying breath.

“I was going to just move down the line,” Cent said, waving again towards the gathered prisoners, “but since you two are here, maybe I should start somewhere more personal. More gratifying for me, at least.” He met Sol’s eyes and raised his weapon, aiming right between Sol’s eyes. “Unless the Speaker wants to hand himself over before I pull the trigger.”

Sol kept his hands up and his face impassive, and spoke, for the first time in years, to someone other than the Inner Circle.

“As a matter of fact, he does.”

Sol allowed himself to enjoy the look of shock that crossed Cent’s face, and the muffled gasps and noises of astonishment from the others in the room. It was a small satisfaction, but it was there nonetheless. Sol took advantage of the silence to speak again.

“You want me, and no one else, isn’t that right? That’s what you were spouting over the radio two minutes ago anyway.” Sol’s mouth was dry, and his panic was encroaching on his mind. He forced himself to push past it, not allowing his nerves to affect his voice. “Well, are you going to arrest me? Or do you want me to prove I am who I say I am?” Sol smiled, and it was more genuine than he expected. “Should I recite my broadcast opening for you?”

Cent cut him off before he could begin, the words tingling in the back of his throat. “That won’t be necessary.” He had recovered his composure, and kept his gun trained on Sol. “I could recognize your voice anywhere, Speaker.” He shook his head. “I’ll give you credit, I never would have guessed it was you, hiding right in front of me this whole time.”

“I’d say the same about you,” Sol countered, “except that I always knew you couldn’t be trusted.” His smile didn’t waver, even though he knew that verbally attacking the man who was about to hold him at his mercy and currently was holding him at gunpoint wasn’t the smartest move. “You’re not as good an actor as you think you are.”

Cent didn’t seem bothered. “Good enough to achieve my goal, it seems.”

Sol didn’t have a response for that. It was true, after all. It didn’t matter though, because Sol knew that he would have the last laugh in the end. And Cent had no idea.

“Are you going to point that gun at me all day?” Sol asked. “Are we waiting for something before you haul me off to whatever humanitarian nightmare of a prison cell you have waiting for me?”

“Just savoring the moment,” Cent said. Lights flashed through the narrow windows near the ceiling, and he smiled. “Look at that, our ride is here. Perfect timing.” He lifted his free hand and beckoned to Sol. “Come closer, Speaker, since you’re making this so easy for us. Then we’ll see about letting the rest of them go.”

Sol heard a slight inhale from Grim, and knew that the man was struggling to hold his composure. Sol silently begged Grim to stay quiet, to not draw any attention to himself that might rouse suspicion from Cent. Sol needed to be the main focus, so that the rest of them could be safe.

He stepped forward, his hands still raised over his head, until he was only a step away from Cent, who hadn’t dropped his smile.

“You done with the theatrics yet?” Sol tipped his head to the side, hyper aware of the gun that was inches away from his temple. “Unless you want to stand here all day while we wait for our backup.”

Cent put his free hand behind his back and pulled out a pair of glowing handcuffs – Union designed and electrical, by the looks of it. “I didn’t realize you were so eager,” he said, and held out the cuffs. “Put those on and we’ll be on our way. I’ve certainly had my fill of this place.”

Sol thought of at least three different ways to make his disdain at being told to handcuff himself known, but kept them all to himself. The cuffs tingled against his wrists as he fastened them in front of him, a warning of the pain they could deliver should he try to escape. Not that he was planning to; but Sol wouldn’t put it past Cent to activate the cuffs anyway. The Union wasn’t exactly quiet about how much they disliked the infamous ‘Speaker’, after all.

It took a monumental effort not to turn his head to take one last look at Grim as Cent’s guards approached Sol from either side. Sol knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his composure if he saw Grim’s face, and he needed to save face as much as possible.

And he couldn’t bear to see the heartbreak on his partner’s face.

He needn’t have worried, as one of the guards produced a cloth which they secured over Sol’s eyes as a makeshift blindfold. A bit unnecessary, Sol thought, since they weren’t even in a Union Facility yet, but he didn’t say anything. He was quickly realizing that not saying anything was probably the smartest decision moving forward.

Stay quiet, and they wouldn’t have a reason to treat him worse than they were already planning to, right? Right. Sure.

Hands seized Sol’s arms and he was forced to move with them, wherever they were guiding – or rather, dragging – him to. A feeling like a vice settled around Sol’s chest as his feet stumbled over the uneven ground, signaling that they had made it outside. There was a ringing in his ears that he didn’t think was altogether caused by the whir of vehicles and crackle of military grade weaponry that was surely pointed at the building.

He forced himself to focus on breathing, because he wasn’t sure he would remember to breathe at all otherwise. He distantly wondered if they were being recorded. Surely they were; this was too big of an event for the Union to pass up the opportunity to capture it as a glorified, romanticized victory to be projected onto every citizen’s screen, yet another battle for them to twist to fit their propaganda.

But this time, there would be no Speaker to set the record straight. There would only be one side of the story.

Of course, Sol knew that the Inner Circle would come up with some broadcast to the public, or risk losing any tentative supporters they might have. But it wouldn’t be the same.

Sol’s foot hit something metal and he stumbled, hissing in pain. One of the guards behind him laughed shortly, then he was shoved into what he assumed was a vehicle. A hand on his shoulder pushed him to his knees, and his hands were pulled to the cold metal floor and restrained there. He felt cold metal close around his ankles, securing him completely to the floor.

There was shuffling and stomping around him, the sounds of guards seating themselves in the vehicles, and the hiss of static from their radios.

Sol suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable, and not because of the restraints. With the blindfold on, he realized he had no idea how many people were sitting within arm’s reach of him, what their faces looked like, how they were looking at him – it was discomforting, to say the least.

Out of all the noises Sol filtered out Cent’s voice, coming closer.

“…Have the official report delivered this evening. The most important thing is our results, of course. Project Echolocation was a success.” There was a clambering sound as Cent entered the vehicle and a dull thud indicated the door slamming shut. “Get moving,” he ordered, presumably to the driver. “We still have a lot of work to do.”

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #no.2 #no.3 #fic #OC #blood #hostages #capture #whump #my ocs: sol #my ocs: grim #my ocs: cent/dare

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jimlingss · 4 years ago

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can i request a yoongi chef au? i feel like yoongi's culinary skills are underrated, and I'm just a slut for chef aus in general

Anonymous said: Hi I saw ur request open posts for the new year!!! Could u write more yoongi stories🥺?!?! Your stories are so fantastic and i’m thirsty for more yoongi lolol🤪(hopefully u get enough votes to do more of him haha)

I feel like Jin’s the one who’s usually written as the chef, prob because he’s the better known chef in BTS, but you’re right! There’s gotta be more chef Yoongi!AUs, so here you go!!!

↳ Buttering Up

2.2k || 100% Fluff & Flirtation || Min Yoongi || Chef!AU

He clearly doesn’t know who you are.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You hum, arms crossed as you eye him up and down. His black hair is practically a bowl cut, bangs covering his forehead. He’s in casual clothes — a taupe trench and black pants — looking like he’s ready for a trip to the grocery store rather than to cook. You wonder where this child crawled out from.

“You’re Yoongi?”

“That I am.” He approaches the door of the restaurant before plunging his hands inside his trench coat pockets. He fishes out the key and unlocks it, ushering you inside. “Hope you don’t mind that the restaurant’s closed down.”

You mind much more that he left you waiting on the cold city street for over ten minutes. You still can’t believe he was late. The audacity.

“I would’ve liked to see how you and your staff do your dinner service.”

“Unfortunately, we’re booked full for the next two months.”

You scoff — how doesn’t he know who you are? You’re a food critic who’s brought highly regarded restaurants to their knees through a review of five sentences. Your words alone has had rippled effects in the industry. Even the most talented chefs hold their breaths when you taste-test.

You make Gordon Ramsey look like Mother Teresa.

This Yoongi character is much too arrogant to not respect you. His new and upcoming restaurant might have raving reviews, but you’ll see what’s really going on.

“Sit wherever you’d like.”

There are no waiters in fancy garb, no hand sewn tablecloths made of silk. He doesn’t even pull out the chair for you. Instead, he’s off flickering on the lights of the restaurant while you choose a wooden table and chair right in front of his open kitchen — which is a horrible mistake in itself.

Open kitchens have always been a concept that has fallen short in your eyes. It’s much too noisy during dinner service and it gets smelly fast. Who actually wants to leave smelling like butter and oil?

It’s something you note as you get settled.

Your coat drapes at the back of the chair and then you watch him. Yoongi’s taken off his trench as well, revealing a white long sleeve that he’s beginning to roll up to his elbows. He’s lean and his build is small, but somehow, he’s far from being scrawny. You gawk at the veins running up his forearm until he casually asks—

“Do you have a preference for wine?”

“I’m fine with any.”

He hums and comes over from the glass cabinet with a bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass. Yoongi pops the bottle easily and pours into the pristine glass with a mere tilt of his wrist. You watch the stream fill the glass a quarter way full.

“Is there a menu?”

“You don’t need one.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?”

“If I were you, I’d put myself in the chef’s hands entirely and go with their recommendation.” He strides away, placing the wine bottle on the other table and then he turns with a glint in his eye and his mouth slightly crooked upwards. “Unless, of course, you don’t trust your chef.”

Oh. He’s confident.

You can’t wait for his ego to blow up in his face.

“Fine then.” Your head tilts upwards. “What’s your recommendation then?”

He rounds his way to go into the kitchen that’s only a few meters away from where you sit. “Risotto with grilled chicken breast, topped off with caramelized onions, mushroom, grilled zucchini and sautéed tomatoes.”

You roll your eyes. What a basic dish. Isn’t it just rice? And with chicken breast?! Ew. It's guaranteed to be bland.

“Alright then.” You give a smile that might be more mocking than intended. “We’ll see how it tastes.”

Yoongi starts and while sipping the chardonnay, you take a good look at the restaurant from your spot. The place is rustic with a hint of contemporary. There’s exposed brick, wooden tables and chairs, and low, yellow lighting. There’s nothing particularly impressive about the place.

Soon, the sound of rapid, rhythmic chopping fills the space and then sizzling. You watch him intently. And you’re appalled. This Yoongi guy commits the worst cooking sins — his pan is cold when he starts throwing on ingredients. He cooks with olive oil. He overcrowds the pan. And he doesn’t even taste test once as he cooks.

What the actual fuck.

There’s a line between arrogance and insanity, and he was crossing it.

You cringe when he starts using his metallic spatula on the non-stick skillet.

Is he even qualified to run a restaurant?!

Or maybe your assistant sent you information about the wrong restaurant? Or maybe this was not the guy you were supposed to be eating from. What if he poisons you or kills off all of your taste buds?! Your career would be ruined.

“Everything going okay?” you pipe up.

He glances up at you for the first time, eyes peering past his bangs. “Yep. Should be done in five.”

Food is simple. It either tastes good or it doesn’t. But the higher up you go and the fancier it gets, the more convoluted the food tastes with bland flakes of gold and the same old truffle shavings. That or it’s entirely boring and unoriginal.

Or in this case, it might kill you. Which would be the first. And you’re not happy about it.

You feel unsettled when he plops the dish in front of you.

“Chef’s recommendation.”

“Thanks.”

You feel unsettled because it actually smells good. The aroma that fills your senses is flavoursome and buttery, and the thyme on top adds a fresh hint. You’re also unsettled because the plating isn’t actually bad. It’s been presented in a pasta bowl with wavy designs and the chicken breast is thinly and neatly sliced on top. It’s clean. It’s bright. It’s colourful.

But the most lethal poisons are the appetizing ones.

“Are you going to wait until it gets cold?”

You look up, brows raising at how he’s gotten comfortable in the chair across from you. Usually the chefs and waiters or waitresses like to skedaddle off and leave you to your own thoughts, too afraid to stand in your intense scrutiny. But Min Yoongi twists off the cap of his water bottle and casually downs it in front of you.

“I’m just looking at the presentation.”

“Tastes better than it looks,” he exhales after swallowing his water.

Your expression becomes skeptical. But you take the silver spoon beside you anyhow and decide not to waste any more time.

The spoonful goes into your mouth. He watches you. You chew.

Instantly, you halt.

The flavour hits your tongue. Creamy. Thick. But each individual grain of rice still has some firmness with a discernible texture. It’s been done al dente. There’s sweetness from the caramelized onions. An earthy flavour from the mushrooms. A zesty touch from the thyme. The chicken breast is somehow still juicy and the tomatoes burst on your palate.

Suddenly, you’re thrusted back into your childhood. Those summer days spent in the cottage. Sun-kissed cheeks, dirtied knees, cotton dresses. You can hear your late grandmother in the kitchen. The way she calls out that it’s lunchtime. You can feel the comfort of family and love.

It feels like you’ve become the food critic in the ratatouille movie.

You almost cry.

“What do you think?”

You clear your throat. You have to be honest. There’s no way you can lie about something like this. “It’s good. I think...this is the best risotto I’ve ever had. You cooked it perfectly and the toppings you chose were absolutely immaculate with this dish—”

You look up at him. Min Yoongi has an enormous, cocky smirk plastered across his stupid face.

It’s entirely off-putting.

“But of course,” you quickly add, “there are many ways you could improve on it. You could add cilantro—”

“That would unnecessarily drown out the notes of thyme you taste,” he rebukes without a single beat and you scoff.

“I noticed you didn’t add any pepper to it which could deepen the flavour.”

“Except this dish doesn’t need it,” Yoongi deadpans. “You don’t need to help me make any adjustments. I think I know what I’m doing better than you are. Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

You suck in your cheek and narrow your eyes on him before you take another bite of the risotto while it’s still hot. “The food is delicious, but I must say, the company really spoils it.”

Yoongi’s slumped with one cheek resting in his hand, elbow on the table. He lazily stares at you with that smirk of his. “Really? Because if I didn’t know any better, you look nervous rather than annoyed.”

You scoff for the second time. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Maybe you didn’t expect the food to taste as good as it does and that makes me unexpectedly attractive,” he states plainly. You almost choke. You hit your chest as you sputter. “Or maybe you’re intimidated by me. I’ve gotten both before.”

You wipe your mouth with the napkin. “I’m afraid you’re not very perceptive, Min Yoongi.”

“Really? I think I am.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth quirked. “I’ve read your reviews before.”

You’re unamused. “Have you now? So you must know how difficult I am to satisfy.”

His smirk is sly and it’s jarring against his softer, more tender features. He’s smaller than the men you’re used to being around, but somehow it feels like he’s taken up the entire space of the restaurant. His focus on you is sweat-inducing. Even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I don’t think so. You’ve just been eating shit food,” he says bluntly and your brow cocks. “You just need someone good you can trust. Someone who can take care of you properly.”

You’re not sure if the double entendre is purposeful. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“And is this someone you?”

Yoongi shrugs and sits back. “It could be.”

You grab your glass of chardonnay and gulp the rest in an effort to stop the conversation before it completely derails into a different direction. Yet, Yoongi’s half-lidded and darkened eyes stay on yours with each swallow. He’s unfazed. Unbothered. And that bothers you even more — bothered in a way that makes your face hot.

There’s a clack as you put the wine glass down and gasp.

“I’m a professional.” You won’t be swayed so easily. “I can’t be bribed.”

“Of course.” He blinks as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. You glare at him and he gestures to the dish. “Please. Keep eating.”

You finish the plate.

“Do you want any seconds?” he asks as he gets up.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi lingers, all too brazen and fearless. “If you don’t get any more now, you might have to come back for more.”

This time, you don’t try to hide the roll of your eyes. “That’s a presumptuous assumption.”

Yoongi smirks and his voice is husky. “After getting a taste from me, everyone comes back for more.

You scoff.

Min’s Restaurant Review

Three nights ago, I ate at Min’s Restaurant and met the main man in the kitchen. Unfortunately, he is a difficult person to interact with. I hope no one has the disservice of having to speak to the chef behind the dishes. Doing so may as well ruin the experience. Furthermore, his cooking methods are unconventional and unorthodox. It was completely shocking to watch.

However, and what I would consider most important, the food at Min’s Restaurant is spectacular. What Min’s Restaurant lacks in likeable personnel, they make up in the served cuisine. The meal that was prepared for me not only subverted my initial expectations, but overcomes, what I consider, what the food industry is lacking in this modern age exactly. Without unnecessary garnishes and ingredients, the flavours of Min’s Restaurant are both light and deep. It was an undeniable delight to consume and for the first time, I licked my plate clean.

It is undoubted that the man behind Min’s Restaurant has the hands of god.

You should have pride.

But you’ve always loved good food. It’s your Achilles heel. It’s the one thing you’ve been passionate about since you were a kid. The reason why you love your job.

Even after writing such a review, you find yourself booking another reservation. But as a customer instead of a critic.

Of course, they were booked full for the next six months, largely thanks to your review, and they swiftly refused you with numerous apologies. But they called back not ten minutes later. You have a feeling that your name finally sunk into them — that he had something to do with it.

That theory is confirmed when you arrive. The person in question is next to the seemingly nervous hostess as the noisy kitchen echoes throughout the busy restaurant.

In the low lighting, Min Yoongi stands there with a relaxed smirk. As if he was expecting you. As if he knew you’d come crawling back to him to eat out of the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively.

You hate that he’s right.

“Welcome back.”

#bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenario #yoongi reader insert #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts reader insert #yoongi x reader #honestly this is one of my favourite drabbles out of the entire collection #I think someone else mentioned there's not enough flirty Yoongi out there #AND I AGREE #this man naturally has big dick energy and I love it lmao #jimlings #Anonymous

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winterrose527 · 3 years ago

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p1. Hi!! Ok so I just finished Dancing on the Strings - I definitely planned to finish it much earlier but I got distracted by my own fanfic and also - I got into grad school (!!!!!!)!! But alas, onto the fic: I love love love college!AUs - they're so much fun because I love seeing all the couples in such a formative time in their lives! I really enjoyed seeing Robb's character development from this super immature college boy that messes around with Margaery and how his love for his family and

p2. for Myrcella really forces him to grow up into someone that she deserves (even though he's annoying stubborn about it for so long - like Robb, how can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time???)! Fav line: She gave him a knowing smile and said, “Because you’re the kind of boy who is only going to fall in love once, and when you do…It might just kill you." - ugh love the symbolism of this!! I adored Myrcella's journey and how she basically opens herself up to having a family! I obsess-

p3. over the found family trope - but you do it so well!!! Their relationship is freaking adorable and so complex with this constant pushing and pulling between the two of them!! fav line: I fell long ago, without my permission. - so cute and beautiful!! Her relationship with Gendry is also so beautiful - I adore well-written sibling relationships, and it was so interesting to see it develop from the perspective of them meeting as adults? I hate that we were deprived of that in canon because -

p4. I think canon!Myrcella would've wanted to know him. Sansa and Jon - wonderful, perfect, iconic as always. As was Arya!! The love scenes also made me DIEEEEE in an amazing way!! Ok I'm officially starting A Different Kind of Game - hopefully I can be more efficient about reading/reviewing it (and it'll be getting me through the financial aid applications ripppp) - so excited!!!

p5. also, I scrolled through your blog because I've been MIA from the GOT fandom for the last month and I'm so sorry your fics haven't been getting the attention/reception that they deserve! I just want to let you know that your fics are valued so so much - they've literally gotten me through 12-hour days filled with personal statements, stress and other personal things happening. I'm reading through your backlog so I haven't been able to get to your new fics yet - but I plan to read and review

p6. I'm reading through your backlog so I haven't been able to get to your new fics yet - but I plan to read and review every single one because I think they're amazing!! I know I like to post on tumblr because I like how interactive it is - but please let me know if you prefer reviews on ao3 or anything instead! I know I only speak for myself

p7. I'll support you/read anything you post regardless, but you're one of my favorite writers on the site, and I think it'd be a huge loss to the GOT/ASOIAF community and to me personally if we were to lose your fics!

***

Hiiii oh my gosh, you are the SWEETEST!

First of all - congratulations on getting into grad school!!! I am so happy for you!! That is so so exciting & I know the next steps are stressful but YAYYYYYYY!!!!!!!

Second of all - oh my goodness. I'm so glad you enjoyed it. This one is one of my shame ones because I made it far too busy I think, and if I could go back I'd set it up differently/have things paced differently, because there was a lot of good in it that just got muddled.

But yes, I'm often accused of having a sort of unchanging Mary Sue Robb and for better or worse in this one - he was not that. I really enjoyed having him be on the character arc that he was, because I felt like he really grew as a person and it was challenging but joyful to write.

I always love writing Myrcella & Gendry as siblings, and I found it so interesting to write it with Myrcella being the one to seek him out.

Ooh I hope you enjoy A Different Kind of Game. It's not one of my favorites but it was fun to write. I'm so honored you're going through my backlog!!

Thanks so much for saying that - it really means so much. I will say that I've been feeling less engaged with GoT fandom as of late, which is to be expected I suppose, and though I love my Robbcella babies, it is incredibly difficult to have maintained inspiration when that is the case and then on top of that, receiving very little interaction with what I write. It takes a lot of time & energy to write stories and it's long been feeling like my time could be better spent elsewhere. That isn't in any way to suggest that I think fanfic is a waste of time or to disparage anyone who still gets joy from it, but for me personally I'm not seeing a lot of upside.

I'm sure that I'll write more in the future, but I do think my most prolific days are definitely behind me.

And just to note - receiving these are so lovely, you're so kind and wonderful and it's such a joy to experience because I get to revisit these works that I wrote what feels like so long ago, but to answer your question yes, on the whole, I will say engagement on AO3, particularly on WIPs, is something that a lot of writers - or maybe I should just speak for myself - appreciate. It can keep us going/convince us to write that next chapter, etc.

Can't wait to see what you choose next, and no rush of course, I just hope you enjoy yourself! xoxo

#lovely readers #fanfiction

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blackpoliglota · 4 years ago

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Moi assistant une réunion qui aurait été un e-mail...

This is me in that scenario and now after having spent WAY TOO MUCH TIME looking for a GIF for this post... that doesn't even fit the space properly on the desktop version 😭😭😭

Ah well, much ado about nothing, I suppose... anyway, I'M BAAAAAAAAAACK!!! So sorry for the unannounced hiatus... which wasn't really much of a hiatus, as I was still reblogging things BUT STILL. I ended up getting super sidetracked with teaching and dealing with the biggest headache on the planet known as the Spanish Beaurocracy™️🤦🏾‍♀️ Seriously y'all, those people DO NOT know how to do their jobs! If you want to hear about the fun time of trying to get my papers in order so I could remain a legal foreign resident, lemme know! Well, even if you don't I may create a post solely dedicated to that anyway; I could use the opportunity to let out some steam.

Now without further ado, onto my first original post of 2021!!!

As you may have guessed, this is about emails, particularly those written in French. I have 2 recent-ish emails I sent off to a college French professor asking for a recommendation letter for a fellowship. Wanting to keep up my French skills (and not disappoint my former professor), I used that opportunity to practice French by setting aside several lovely hours of my life for each email... yep, you read it right, HOURS. If I wrote those emails in Spanish it would've only taken me a hour tops for each email, but since this is French we're talking about here I had to spend the majority of my email-writing time looking up virtually every other word/phrase, cringe over each eventual sentence(s) I'd create with said word/phrase, and ultimately convince myself to move onto the next sentence to repeat that same process. . . all of this with taking a break after every 3rd sentence due to being lowkey dissuaded from continuing. . . fuuuuuuuun🙃🙃🙃

Anyway, not all language learning sessions are great. BUT, ya gotta push through those annoying/bad times to achieve greatness, amirite? Right, so with that being said, ALLONS-Y!!!

So I mentioned having spent the majority of my time looking up words and phrases for these 2 emails, meaning I now have a lovely list of vocabulary to get through! Check it out below:

Le premier e-mail

La Nouveauté - innovation / novelty / originality / freshness [In the email I mistakenly used it to mean "news", when I really should have used "nouvelles"]

À part - Aside from

La folie - madness / lunacy / insanity / chaos

Supporter - To put up with / to tolerate / to bear

Pour l'instant - For the moment

Falloir (qqch)- To have to do (sth) / must do (sth) [In the email I mistakenly used it to mean "should", when I really should have used "devoir"]

Déménager - To move (house)

L'essai (m.) - Try / attempt

Remettre - To turn in / to hand over [there are many more meanings for this verb, but in the email it's used to mean this]

Le formulaire - (Application) Form

Le faute - Fault / mistake / error

La date limite - Deadline

Faire face à - To deal with / to face

Opérer - To operate / to work / to function

Quoi qu'il en soit - Anyway / either way / be that as it may

Ce que - What [As an antecedent, not a question word]

Se rendre compte de (qqch) - To realize / to become aware of (sth)

La bourse - Scholarship / fellowship / grant / stock market

Requérir - to require / to call for

Le solliciteur / la solliciteuse - Petitioner / solicitor [In the email I mistakenly used it to mean "applicant", when I really should have used "demandeur / demandeuse" according to WordReference]

Le motif - Reason / motive / pattern / motif

Si longtemps - So long [As in "such a long time"]

Le thème - Topic / subject / theme

La déclaration personnelle - Personal statement

La déclaration d'intention - Statement of purpose

Payer le luxe - To have the luxury (to do sth) / to afford (to do sth)

Urger - To be urgent [In the email I mistakenly used it to mean "to oblige", when I really should have used "obliger"]

Amitiés - Best Wishes / All the Best [Letter sign-off]

And for the sake of breaking up these two lists so you won't be too overwhelmed at all the vocab I need to study, here's a picture of the first email below:

Now for the next one!

Le deuxième e-mail

Le tour - Turn

Désolée de. . . - Sorry for. . .

Tel (m.) / telle (f.) - Such (a)

À temps - On time

Lié (m.) / liée (f.) - Related / connected

L'affaire (f.) - Matter / issue / business

Le séjour - Stay / temporary residence / family room / living room

Donc - Therefore [Grammatical position is after the verb, after "pas" if negation is present]

Une fois encore - Once again

L'objet (m.) - (Email) Subject / object / purpose / target

La nouvelle normale - The New Normal [COVID-19 related]

Vécu - Lived [Past participle of the verb "vivre"]

Propre - (One's) Own / clean / tidy / neat

Lorsque - While / when / as soon as

S'étonner - To be surprised / to be astonished / to be amazed

Chacun de nous - Any one of us / each of us

Poursuivre - To continue / to pursue / to keep up

Presque - Almost

L'enseignement de l'anglais langue étrangère - Teaching English as a Foreign Language [abbrv. "TEFL"]

Instituteur (m.) / Institutrice (f.) - (Primary school) Teacher

Le déménagement - Move / moving

Devenu(e) - Became [Past participle of the verb "devenir"]

L'éducateur / l'éducatrice - Educator

Le retour - Return

Bien que - Although / even though

La carrière - Career

La demande - Application

Écrasant (m.) / écrasante (f.) - Overwhelming / crushing / heavy

En réalité - Actually / in fact / in reality

Le résultat - Result

La ronde des finalistes - Finalist round

Alors que - While / even though

Les études (f.) - Studies

Réviser - To review

La communauté - Community

À ce sujet - On that note / speaking of which

À l'avenir - In the future

Postuler à (qqch) - To apply for (sth)

Scolaire - Academic / scholastic

S'améliorer - To improve / to upgrade / to get better

La capacité - Ability / capability

Cela dit - That (being) said

Fou (m.) / folle (f.) - Crazy / insane / mad / wild

Être en bonne santé - To be healthy

Être en sécurité - To be safe

Jurer - To swear / to vow / to curse / to cuss

Le temps de réponse - Response time

Chaleureusement - With Warm Regards / Warmly [Letter sign-off]

And here is the second email itself:

As you can see, I blocked out the name of my professor because Consent Tings™️. Hopefully the email images help with putting the vocab into context! I plan to make quizlets for these vocab words soon and will post the link to it here for y'all if you're interested in studying them! Also, DISCLAIMER: if you didn't know this before, I am by no means an expert in the French language; I'm hardly at the B1 level. Cela dit (that being said. . . see that? heh heh😏), I'm sure there are a plethora of errors in both emails. If you're feeling extra critical when reading them, please please PLEASE point out those errors to me! I want to discuss them with you and learn from them so I can poursuivre m'améliorer (keep on improving. . . once again, hehee😂)!

Alrighty, that covers just about everything! Again, I am so sorry for not having created any original posts in such a long time; life carried me away🤷🏾‍♀️ Now that I finally have my first post of 2021, here's to more frequent content creating!

乾杯(Gān bēi)! 🥂

EDIT: Links to the quizlets below!

Le premier e-mail: https://quizlet.com/_9mktlv?x=1jqt&i=3dk8u9

Le deuxième e-mail: https://quizlet.com/_9ml1s4?x=1jqt&i=3dk8u9

#French #Français #Vocabulary #Vocabulaire #Grammar #Grammaire #Emails #Des E-mails #Black Linguist #NOLA in the house #⚜️⚜️⚜️#Langblr #Studyblr #Original Post

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supernaturalnovelsandmore · 3 years ago

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Supernatural Novel: Heart of the Dragon

Welcome to my not-quite review of the fourth Supernatural novel, Heart of the Dragon.

Author: Keith R.A. DeCandido

Timeline: Set after Episode 5.08 Changing Channels

Location: San Francisco, California (Chinatown)

Synopsis: An old foe has come back to terrorize San Francisco, but what is the connection between the Campbells, John Winchester and Sam and Dean? Read to find out!

Warning: Spoilers abound!

Oh, where do I start? Heart of the Dragon has a very different feel to it, one that I'm not entirely on board with. Basically, it's a flashback book that spends the first third on Samuel, Deanna, and Mary Campbell, the second third on John Winchester and the last quarter on Sam and Dean. In fact, out of 28 chapters, Sam and Dean were only featured in about 7 of them. It leaves the book feeling hollow and me, a little meh. But, there are some additional insights into the Winchester family history which I'll try and parse out.

One more thought, I'm glad this is the last book from this particular author. Once again he has utilized a culture/race to tell the story, and not well. When the story is in 1969, he utilizes the world Orientals to explain Japanese and Chinese characters. He might have been trying to use the wording of the day, and that's fine if it's in dialogue, but to use it as a descriptor is problematic, at best. He also plays up multiple stereotypes from the Chinese mob to the Japanese Samurai. I'm hoping this book is the Route 666 of the novels and that they can only get better.

I decided to sort my thoughts within the different timelines, so here we go:

1969: Samuel, Deanna, and Mary Campbell

We open with the family hunting a vampire and Samuel using 15-year-old Mary as willing bait. It turns out to be a nest, but they quickly dispatch them without casualties. Deanna appears to be quite the hunter in her own right (her skill with a Claymore outstanding.) Within this hunt we learn a few things about Mary and the Campbell family.

The Campbells have a strong link to their Scottish heritage.

Samuel hates Christmas

Mary is willful, annoying, and disrespectful, but an amazing hunter who was raised practically from birth to how to hunt and defend herself. (Sam parallels, perhaps?)

Mary learned about monsters at 11 when she saw her parents dispatch an avenging spirit.

Samuel hates the idea of Mary hanging out with any boys, though she has a particular fondness for a John Winchester who works as a local auto-mechanic.

Samuel owns a dry-cleaning business and Deanna substitute teaches to help maintain some kind of income.

Mary often wondered about having a normal life, but would dismiss it knowing she couldn't have that and still know monsters are out there. (Seems like a combination of Sam and Dean here).

Other than that, the hunt they go to San Francisco for seems fairly perfunctory. They do a bunch of research, talk to a few locals. Samuel dons his FBI agent schtick, they locate the source of the problem, and quickly dispatch it. There's nothing too dramatic there, just a lot of backstory.

1989: John Winchester

There's a bit more insight here because now we're getting some insight into Dad John, as well as 6-year-old Sam and 10-year-old Dean. I'll touch on a few points.

Leaving his boys with others: We open with John returning to his kids whom he left at Bobby's while he took care of a hunt. He left them long enough that they were enrolled in school and he planned on keeping them there for the fall semester. He felt bad about using Bobby's hospitality for so long.

Training his boys: "John knew his boys would need to be able to defend themselves against whatever was out there - he'd already started that process with Dean... Dean was a crack shot with John's M1911 and could load the shotgun with iron rounds and fire them off in one smooth motion. Eventually he'd need to train Sammy too. But not yet."

Loving his boys: When he arrives at Bobby's, Sam runs out to meet him and wraps his arms around John's legs as he walks in. Sam also tattles on Dean for eating the last donut.

There are also some fun moments between young Sam and Dean, mostly sibling bickering.

Dean and Sam enjoy playing hide-and-seek among Bobby's car on the weekends and Sam enjoys going to school during the week. Dean, not so much.

Sam proudly shares that he's doing 3rd grade work in 1st grade and then teases Dean about also doing 3rd grade work even though he's in 5th grade (Dean then sticks his tongue out at Sam and says "Screw you, Sammy.") At this John calls them out and both boys are chagrined.

Later on, when John calls Bobby for more information, we find Dean holding a pen out of Sam's reach and teasing him with it.

Of course, that call means we also get this heartbreaking line moment from Dean, who wants to talk to his Dad, but can't before John hangs up. Bobby tries to explain: "'Sorry, Dean, he, uh, was on his way out the door. But he told me to tell you both to behave yourselves and do what I tell you. And that he loves you.' Dean: 'Did he really say that?'"

When Bobby presents the next case, John is torn between wanting to spend time with his kids, but going after something that could cause people to burn spontaneously, in the hopes that it might lead him to the demon who killed Mary. I think the book did a good job of capturing John's struggle between revenge and caring for his boys. He's not the abusive, neglectful father people tend to think he is. He's someone struggling to make things right.

"John didn't answer at first. Instead, he looked over at Sam and Dean in the dining room, playing that oh-so-common game of 'I touched you last.'

Christmas was coming up and he did want to spend it with the boys..."

Finally, when John returns and Bobby and the boys meet him at the airport, we get some additional insight into 10-year-old Dean's thoughts regarding his father and his place in the family.

"Waiting there in the airport, he understood how important it was for Dad to be away so much - more than Sammy ever could. Sammy hadn't really known Mom, since he was just a baby when she died. Dean couldn't imagine that his baby brother would ever truly understand what had happened to her.

If he was honest with himself, he didn't really understand it, either. There were some days - though he'd never admit this to anyone - when he couldn't even remember what she looked like.

Some kind of monster had killed Mom, and Dad wouldn't rest until he found that monster and killed it. Along the way, he'd kill any other monsters who tried to kill other people's moms...

Dad still fought the bad guys and saved people, but he also cared about his sons.

Because Dad was a hero, and that was what heroes did."

2009 - Sam and Dean

There isn't much to write about here, because they weren't featured in the book. I will just add a couple of notes.

Dean recognizes Samuel Campbell in a newspaper article about the killings. (He'd already been sent back in time and met his grandfather).

It's seems reasonable to Sam that Mary and her parents were hunters. What freaks him out is that he and Dean were named after their grandparents and John never told them.

Sam's been a nerd about the American Interstate system since he was 10 and loved poring over maps.

Sam feels more guilt from trusting Ruby over Dean than starting the apocalypse.

Final notes:

This book introduces Castiel who brings the case to the boys attention. We get the same stuff in here that you see on screen, he has issues with personal space, comes and goes at will, and Bobby's still mad at him for not being able to heal his paralysis. He's only there for a few pages, and then disappears again.

Bobby gets a bit more screen time, as a pseudo-dad to young Sam and Dean, and later as their resource when researching the case and it's history. Favorite quote: "As he went into the fridge for butter to spread onto the pan, Bobby decided it was the entire Winchester family that was making him bald."

We briefly get Hurt Sam who is punched repeatedly by a hulk of a man, but with no lasting consequences and very little caring Dean.

We find out at the end that Zachariah orchestrated the whole thing by planting the idea in Castiel's head.

So, like I said at the beginning, not my favorite, but hopefully I was able to share some of the more interesting parts. Read at your own risk!

#Supernatural #Supernatural Novels #Supernatural Books #SPN Novels #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Bobby Singer #Castiel #Heart of the Dragon

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temilyrights · 4 years ago

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For drabble challenge, the first one with Jenny Shepard? I'm dying to see more Jenny×Reader 😁

1. “That’s starting to get annoying.”

Word Count: 1112 (word count what??)

A/N: Jenny Shepard x Reader. Lol, so this took a while and idk. It’s over the word count cause I didn’t know how to cut it down anymore ahaha. Thank you for requesting, it was nice to write some Jenny! Enjoy!

Paperwork Confessions

You could do this. You could totally do this. I mean, this was Jen. If she didn’t feel the same way it would be awkward, sure, but at least you would finally know. You needed to know because recently she’d been doing things that made you want to believe that your feelings weren’t so one-sided.

Her soft smiles, lingering touches, and the amount of time you’d been spending together outside of the office...Your heart was in turmoil. You wanted this so much.

“That’s starting to get annoying,” Jenny mumbles, looking up from her paperwork and towards the pen in your hand which you’d absentmindedly been clicking for the last few minutes.

“Sorry,” you mutter, dropping the pen to the table.

She watches you for a moment with a frown before returning her attention to her work. “If you’re tired you can go home. I know the paperwork you’ve got there isn’t due until the end of the week.”

“No, it’s fine. I need to get it done if I want to get out of the office at a reasonable time on Friday.” You shake yourself from your thoughts, picking your pen back up and try to read the work you haven’t touched for the last fifteen minutes.

“Oh? Big plans?” Jenny looks at you with interest, and your cheeks heat up.

“Hopefully,” you smile, dodging her eyes, “just depends on...things.” Like if you want to date me or if I can ever plump up the courage to ask.

“Like as in a date plan? Or…?” She frowns, “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“I’m not. She’s not…”

“She? So, there is someone?”

Shit “Hmm, well, yeah. We aren’t, she’s not, it’s complicated.”

Jenny takes off her glasses to assess you, dropping her own pen to the table to give you her full attention. “Ziva?”

“No.” That would be complicated considering Ziva and Tony had been making eyes at each other all year.

“Abby?”

“Not my type.”

“Cynthia?”

“Does she even like women?”

Jenny frowns, “The lady from the coffee shop?”

“What lady?”

“The one that flirts with you every time we go in there.”

“There isn’t-Wait Lydia?” Lydia was a barista that worked at the coffee shop you frequented. She was friendly with you and usually had your coffees ready by the time you made it to the counter, but that was just because you were a regular. Sure, the two of you always chatted but- “She doesn’t flirt with me.”

“Oh, come on, you aren’t that oblivious. She is constantly winking at you and offering you free treats.”

“Yeah, because she’s been trying to convince me to tell-” Your jaw clicks shut and Jenny’s mouth morphs into that political smile she’s perfected. The one which is supposed to make her seem cordial. To you, it just means she’s putting on a show, and that hurts.

“Oh, she knows?” Jenny asks, picking up her pen to try to seem unaffected but you could see the hurt hiding underneath.

“She worked it out,”

“How?”

“Uh…” Right, how did the barista you spoke to for a maximum of five minutes a day work out your crush before the woman you spent most of your time with? Lydia had because you almost always got two coffee’s, even when Jenny wasn’t with you so you could surprise her with one at the office. And she may have also caught you staring at Jenny on multiple occasions...but how do you explain that to Jenny without actually explaining it to her? “I don’t know, she just did. How’s Parker’s review on the Truman case?”

“That’s your worst attempt of changing the conversation ever.” Jenny’s small smirk fades away, “but if you really don’t want to tell me, don’t worry.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I do. I just…” You take a deep breath, okay. It was time. You could do this.

Her eyes soften as your panic becomes obvious, and she reaches out and lightly squeezes your hand. “Come on, I mean as long as it’s not Gibbs then you’re safe.”

“Oh, god no.” Your face scrunches up in disgust and Jenny’s arches her brow causing you to duck your head. “Sorry, no offence.”

“None taken.” She chuckles, “Although, good to know you think so highly of my dating choices.”

Your lips twitch, “Would this be a good time to tell you I didn’t like Michael much either?”

“Only if I can tell you that I didn’t like Celia or Evelyn.”

“Hey! Evelyn was nice, and the only reason you didn’t like Celia was because she was a major flirt. At least I wasn’t dating someone who only knew how to talk about cars.”

Jenny rolls her eyes, “Right because Celia turning every single sentence into an innuendo wasn’t annoying.”

“True,” you laugh, “maybe you should pick the next person I date.”

Multiple emotions flicker across Jenny’s face so quickly you don’t have time to process any of them. She settles with a small smile, brow arching, “Hm, what about your mystery woman?”

You shrug, “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“Describe her for me.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Describe her.”

Swallowing roughly, you look to your hands, “Uh, okay. She’s pretty amazing, headstrong. Stubborn, god so stubborn.” You chuckle, “It’s nice though. She knows exactly what she wants, knows how to demand the attention of a room and does it with such grace and effortlessness. She can be very intimidating but when you know her you get to see the beauty of how kind and caring she is.” Jenny’s watching you closely when you finally lift your head again, you take a breath. “She has the most beautiful green eyes and short red hair.” Jenny sucks in a breath, and you smile sadly, averting your eyes. “But like I said, It’s complicated.”

Silence stretches on for what feels like forever but in reality, is only a minute. You’re planning your escape and how to avoid Jenny for the next billion years when she finally speaks up, “Well If I’m still choosing who you date next, I think you should ask her out.” Your head snaps up. Jenny’s biting her lip to stop herself from grinning, “This woman sounds great.”

“She is,” You nod, your own smile now threatening to make itself known. “Jen, would you go to dinner with me on Friday?”

She smiles softly, “yes. I’d like that a lot.” Jenny reaches across the table and squeezes your hand before letting go and picking her pen back up, “Now we better get this done, I have plans Friday.”

“Yes, boss.” You smile, returning to your own paperwork with a giddy smile.

#jenny shepard x reader #jenny shepard #ncis #drabble #ficlet #paperwork confessions #reader-insert #regal-roni #fic #writing

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00sheven · 5 years ago

Text

business as usual

(taking a scary and unpredictable time and making it mor scary and unpredictable.)

well shit,

unemployment.

unemployment is insisting on giving me a good spanking.

when I was on it before I was using it as a safety net. a lot of stagehands will file for it to fill in gaps between work ( it is considered being under employed) so at least they receive some income when things get slow. it's not much but at least its something.

in my case I believe if I made over 200 and change I wasnt eligible to receive benifits. (maybe 300 I dont remember, but it wouldnt be much over that) it is impossible to live on but you can pay a bill and buy some groceries.

well silly me forgot to log sick time into one of my certifications.

you practically need a course in simple accounting when being a freelance stage hand when filling out an unemployment certification. (jokes.)

when you know you wont quailifiy you have to do it anyways.

how many hours did you work?

tally tally tally tally tally

who were your employers?

list employers 1 through let's just say 10

A) employer's name and address

how much money did you make?

tally tally tally (didn't get paid yet) guess tally tally guess guess tally tally.

did you look for work?

yes

provide contact information.

who

what

where

when

why.

have you pooped today and if do how many times.

hopefully you are getting the drift.

I was happy to do it, it was helping me out.

anyhow, forgetting to log in sick time.

I forgot to log in sevral hours of sick time and was paid by my employer and unemployment.

honest mistake.

well, I had to pay back the money, fair enough.

then I had to pay penalty money, understandable. they will let me make payments.

we are going to refuse benifits for (I cant remember how long) okay that sucks.

(apparently) you must continue to certify for benifits during this period to be eligible for unemployment benifits. that you are not going to recieve.

what I have not mentioned.

I was going through such a bad depression at that time that I couldn't even put on my shoes. I would sleep for one or two days at a time. I would leave my bed to eat and use the restroom, it was difficult to do simple things like hygiene related tasks. I know it's hard for people to understand. you really cant unless you experience it for yourself, and I wouldnt wish that on anyone.

I worked when work was available, but it was very difficult.

I scraped by and made enough to pay off the debt.

I thought I was done and got off unemployment.

although I needed it I managed to get by without out it. I ended up getting a job with the AV company (the one i was working with full time until all this craziness started happening. see earlier posts) on a freelance basis, and doing music production as a runner. I started making good money and making ends meet. dont get me wrong. I wasn't making enough to get an apartment. but I was making enough money to live a little more comfortably at the hobo compound. ( see hobo compound in previous posts.)

kick in the balls time. (recap)

I have to move from the hobo compound.

(the overlords are remodeling wont be taking tenets anymore) I am homeless, goose moves in at the outpost.

(see money breakdown in earlier post. if you think my bills went down, they didnt.)

covid 19

I work in the entertainment industry. no shows. no work. I get laid off.

(lots of other fucked up shit happens. review the blog if you wish.)

I have to refile for unemployment.

my case gets accepted, no mention of previous problems.

2 maybe 3 weeks later. nothing.

I check my account online last night.

your benifits are denied for this week due to penalty period.

the next week

your benifits are denied for this week due to penalty period.

what the fuck.

I paid the money back.

I paid the penalty money.

I did the pointless certifications.

how much longer is this going to last?

I tried to make a call to talk to them.

they are no longer taking calls.

I go online and through an online maze to find something close to a predetermined question that I can choose from that matches my situation.

it allows me to ask for information.

message sent.

we will get back to you in 5 to 7 business days.

okay I'll wait.

I have an indefinite amount of money to sustain the goose and I while we wait.

it's cool guys.

this commercial break is brought to you by the circle jerks and the endowment for the arts.

youtube

I wake up to a vague text message from the insurance adjuster.

as you can see from my response I required a little more information.

why?

what you dont know.

when dealing with my insurance company

I was kept in the dark

they didnt respond to my calls

I found out they settled my claim when I went to pay my bill

they sent the check to the hobo compound.

the check was issued to the guy I bought the car from.

they didnt notify me of a settlement at all.

they didnt inform me about where I should go to get my car fixed. as far as I know they got a random estimate and then subtracted 500 dollars for my deductible.

the payout to my claim was like 730. somthing dollars.

when I called them to inquire

goes though phone maze.

waits on hold due to covid 19

finally gets through.

it appears we forgot to subtract 20% for some type of fee. you were over paid we are going to stop payment on your check.

we can write you another check minus 20% or you can contact the insurance company the other party yourself to see if you have better luck. we are terribly sorry for the inconvenience.

yeah, fuck you.

so I call the insurance of the other party.

phone maze

on hold, covid 19

we thought this claim was closed

no it is not. I rejected the offer from my company. why would I pay a 500 dollar deductible when I am 100 percent not at fault.

we need to talk to your insurance company call you back.

they call back

we see you want to settle through us we are going to send a guy in a couple of days.

yesterday.

guy shows up hella early in the morning. (yell talks.) is rude. tells me a guy is gonna call me to discuss outcome of my claim. takes pictures. leaves.

today.

hella early receives text message.

try to text number the text originates from.

you can't text that number.

why would I want to speak to someone regarding my claim you ask.

well I'll tell you. it so happens I'm my case that people are dropping the fucking ball mother fuckers and I want to avoid any more possible complications and dragging this situation out any further than it needs to be.

so.

I call insurance co.

goes through phone maze

doesn't have correct option.

chooses incorrect option in an attempt to speak to someone.

gets put on hold due to covid 19

someone answers.

you need to talk to claims. I will try and contact your adjuster. (knows who I am because of phone number.)

your adjuster isn't available. I will put you through to someone who can give you the information you've requested.

gets put on hold.

other person picks up.

I repeat information to new person.

new person has no idea who I am. (has no information tied to my phone number.)

new person asks when the loss occurred.

I dont know that off the top of my head.

new person can't proceed without that info.

I dig the info up.

new person what was the other parties name.

I'm getting really annoyed at this time

digs up other parties name.

new person can you spell other parties name

I spell other parties name.

new person do you have a claim number

how may fucking people with that name on that date have had accidents mother fucker.

gets put on hold.

waiting on hold

new person comes back.

new person. here is the number and extension for you claim adjuster.

hangs up

calls insurance company

goes through phone maze

puts in extension

phone rings

some weird electronic music comes on.

electronic music plays instead of going to voice mail.

keeps playing

I hang up

calls insurance company

goes through phone maze

something goes wrong hangs up

calls insurance company

goes through phone maze chooses different option

something goes wrong hangs up

calls insurance company

goes through phone maze

chooses different option

gets put on hold due to covid 19

something goes wrong hangs up

calls insurance company

goes through phone maze

puts in extension number again

gets put on hold due to covid 19

adjuster picks up the phone.

the clouds part and Angel's sing

talks to adjuster for 3 minutes confirming information is correct.

hangs up the phone.

next.

3/31/20

red tape circle jerks

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learning-to-think · 5 years ago

Text

14.01.2020

Today, I woke up early again! 6:30am! To be honest I'm quite surprised by myself but really happy about it. It is just a bit hard to get up, as it's still total dark outside, and silent in the house.

I couldn't find the power to shower, so I'll do that tomorrow morning, hopefully. I succeeded in leaving home earlier than usual, and arrived at school a bit before the first hour started, so for the first time in weeks I wasn't late at all! Victory!

I had forgotten about an assignment so I did it at school during an exceptional free hour (bless!).

In English lit I had an oral, after which my teacher taught me how to say 'hope' and 'particularly'. I have to say, I am really disappointed in these two words pronunciation. :') I've got to either learn to talk less and faster, because yet again I did too long.

In Philosophy I got back an assignment, 10/20, I've got the average note! The teacher said he was angry with me though, and I'm sorry. I wish it was easier for me to write the assignments. We both know I could do better if I could just follow the method.

When I got home I discovered I had already done my homework for tomorrow some weeks ago so, thanks past me. Alas my cat decided to annoy me so I didn't get around to doing another homework instead.

Tomorrow I have two empty hours, I want to make an exercices sheet for my little student, and write a bullet points plan for the English essay that's due on Thursday or Monday (not sure, but earlier is better). Then on the second hour it would be nice if I could review/learn my text/sing a bit.

Jan stu-dna challenge: show us how you keep cosy in the cold months!

This is the best pic you'll get :') A cat nearby, a plaid, some more blankets, is def cosy. As to the clothes, I wear a large jumper and light pants inside. When I've got to go out, then I wear 'true' pants with leggings underneath, a T-shirt under the jumper, and a scarf. That's my cozy. :)

#long post #sorry ahah #stu dna challenge #studyblr #hs studyblr

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fly-pow-bye · 5 years ago

Text

DuckTales 2017 - “Happy Birthday, Doofus Drake!”

Story by: Francisco Angones, Madison Bateman, Colleen Evanson, Christian Magalhaes, Bob Snow

Written by: Bob Snow & Francisco Angones

Storyboard by: Stephanie Gonzaga, Vaughn Tada, Brandon Warren

Directed by: Matthew Humphreys

Don't eat the cake.

The episode begins with Scrooge noticing that something is terribly wrong. He checks through his manor, opening a few doors to see. Webby, Lena, and Violet are dealing with a giant beast, Mrs. Beakley and Dewey are messing with a tempest in a teapot, and, in what is specifically deemed "very wrong" by Scrooge, Della actually bonding with a child that isn't the blue one. Okay, he's actually reacting to how they're both dramatically shouting about being the Legends of LegendQuest, but that doesn't seem too out of character for Della. Maybe for Huey.

After checking the whole mansion he goes back to his room, and he notices his seat is occupied by a familiar face.

Goldie: Morning, Scroogie.

Scrooge wonders why she would be here, and Louie shows up to tell him he invited her in. This episode continues the Louie Inc plotline that we last saw in "The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck!". That plotline left off with Louie having a choice for his company: use Scrooge's hard work, or will it be the choice that Louie would actually pick. That choice ended up being "team up with the untrustworthy frenemy of Scrooge". Louie sees himself as a professional, he can handle this!

Not even after the opening credits roll, we see that Louie couldn't handle it, as he gets locked into a chest. Louie starts crying, saying that Louie Inc was his dream, and he thought he can be as clever as her, even calling her his hero. Goldie sees through this "crocodile waterworks" pretty much immediately, but takes kindly to Louie's training in the art of cons. That, and she needed a kid for her next con: getting into a "septleventh birth anniversary" for rich families. Who’s the birthday boy?

It turns out to be this reboot's version of Doofus Drake's big birthday party. Oh boy. Admittedly, the annoying living fat joke being retooled into an awkward and spoiled rich kid with creepy tendencies isn't exactly a terrible punishment for our eyes. When I imagined the Louie and Goldie adventure back when that was teased, I never expected anything like this, that's for sure.

Going away from that, anyone can guess at least one of those things Scrooge McDuck closed the door on was going to be the B plot, and it's not about that beast or the tempest in a teapot. We learn that during her adventuring days, after Donald and Scrooge would go right to sleep, Della would play a video game called Legends of LegendQuest. Huey decides to join in.

I do like the subtle joke that the "very wrong" epic speech they were doing was during the game's really long loading screen, which takes until this scene to load 100%. I would hate to say I liked it because it was the only subtle joke in this B plot, but I have to say it.

The rest of this B plot takes place inside the game world. This isn't a case of a magical video game that sucks them in, they just happen to have avatars that look exactly like them with some subtle differences. Della is this strong warrior woman with a strong resemblance to Zero from Mega Man X, with what looks like a scouter from the early days of Dragon Ball Z. I am sure this show is beyond referencing that ancient "over 9000" meme.

Her son decided to go with the joy of being an ordinary farmer who farms under a giant force field, protecting his garden from the bugs that manage to get past it. The joke is that Huey is boring, but Della is fun! Huey kind of reminds me of that other red accessory wearing kid from the other show in this episode, and not the good version of her.

We see Doofus's party, filled with more Beagle Boys than one might expect. Sorry to say, they do not appear that much. He has all the party quirks that would fit someone of his obscenely rich and richly obscene personality. Instead of bobbing for apples, he has bobbing for splinters. His birthday cake promises that it's not full of hair. Even Louie starts to talk to himself about the obvious joke that it will lead to, until he and Goldie get distracted by the party bags filled with gold.

Louie tries to take one of those party bags, only for Doofus's parents, or "servants" as Doofus calls them, to slap his hand. These bags are meant for departing guests, and are filled with priceless heirlooms from his late Guhmeemama Frances.

Doofus's parents: Guhmeemama.

Oh yeah, whenever her name is said in this episode and Day of the Only Child, they have to whisper to themselves her name. It gets a good payoff here in many more ways than one.

Louie tries to run off with two of the bags again, this time pretending to leave the party, only for Goldie to stop him this time. Apparently, she does not want Louie to be a bad party guest! Oh, and she wants all the bags. She also will not tell Louie her plan to do so, because he would not learn anything. Oh, and she doesn't know what her plan is. A lot of her dialogue is like that.

But enough about her way of talking, the "servants" announce that the "universe's perfect widdle (sic) angel" is making his grand entrance. A closed clam shows up, surrounded by angels. It's a scene very similar to a certain painting, and I really don't like where this is going.

Thankfully, they don't go with him barely covering himself up with a long blonde wig. Somehow, him just popping up right behind Louie is the second worst thing that could have happened with that. As he speaks about how seeing all of his guests with their loving parents reminds him of the only parental figure he knows, he sniffs that some of these families are filthy liars that only went to his party to get his gift bags!

One of those people turns out to be Percival P. Peppington, a guy that sort of looks like Willy Wonka and has at least enough money to hire Johnny, formerly of the Ottoman Empire, to pose as his kid. I looked Percival up, he's not a character from the comics, and he never appears again after this episode. Exposed, Percival ends up getting sentenced by Doofus to go into a trapdoor into his honey bin.

Percival: Don't you mean "Money Bin"?

Doofus: No. (hits button)

We never see this honey bin, but judging by the sound of bees and Randy's face when he looks down into the trapdoor, one would be wishing Doofus could just wish them into the cornfield instead. Thankfully, Doofus has mercy for the not-so-child actor, as he merely gets ejected via spring.

Seeing this, Louie whispers to Goldie that he can smell lies. He and Goldie will then talk about the plan to expose the two obvious phonies to Doofus, leaving them as the only people worthy enough to grab those money bags. They say this all out loud, because there's no way Doofus would hear them despite Louie's fear about him smelling lies!

It may be possible that Louie is heavily overestimating Doofus's abilities to smelling crooks, considering who those two phonies are and at least one of their plans. There's Glomgold, with a son named Sharkbomb that always seems to stay on his right arm, and Mark Beaks, who now has a son named Boyd. Clearly, one is way more unbelievable than the other. I mean, Mark Beaks having a kid? Maybe I'm underestimating how many fangirls he has. As he shows off his family selfies, all of them with his kid with the same exact face, he says this:

Mark Beaks: Yeah, I love this, uh, what is this, uh, uh, son!

This line outright blurts out that this son is completely fake, but anyone should expect that. Doofus does not smell this lie, as he just mentions that looking at his family selfies reminds him of his family memories.

This leads to Doofus sobbing and kissing his father's stomach, which happened to have a tattoo of his Guhmeemama...

Doofus's parents: Guhmeemama.

...riding on a Doofus centaur. Maybe it is best not to ask.

Glomgold also shows off his own family photos, which are surprisingly more convincing than the tech guru's, and Louie has to think fast. Thankfully, a quick trip to a nearby photo booth and Louie's not-too-convincing smiles clears that up. How it seems like Louie isn't even trying and still manages to win just seems to weaken him to me, but don't tell that to Goldie, who now wants to go on the offensive. Who is the first mark? It's not Beaks, as much as they seemed to be setting up for that joke.

All of the guests get into the pool, not by choice, and Louie tells Glomgold he wants to talk to Sharkbomb alone. Glomgold decides to try his best at ventriloquism while he's underwater to expected effects. He tells Sharkbomb about how Goldie has the hots for his dad. It's cool to see that plot thread from "The Golden Lagoon of White Agony Plains!" get referenced, and that reference also interests Glomgold, who suddenly comes out from the water to ask if it's true.

He tries to cover it up by having his puppet son say "as if", only for Glomgold to take his own puppet son's words as an insult. Considering "Duke Baloney", this whole fight may have a bit more depth than one could see here. I don’t think it is intentional, but that is something.

Eventually, that fight ends with him beheading his own son right in front of Doofus' eyes. Needless to say, Glomgold's attempt to put Sharkbomb's head back on with his spit does not please the manchild of the day. Doofus decides to send Glomgold to the honey bin.

Glomgold: Don't let go, Sharkbomb!

Sharkbomb: Don't tell me what to dooo! (lets go)

Gotta say, Glomgold and Sharkbomb ends up being one of the highlights of the episode. Kind of wish we got to see more of them.

Instead, we get to see Mark Beaks and Boyd, the latter of which suspiciously doesn't want to put his head below water! Also, he seems to have the strength of a million and seventy men. I guess he really shouldn't complain. But I have a feeling he can't go out for a walk without rusting in the rain. I guessed this as soon as I saw him, anyway; it would be fitting for the tech guru.

Speaking of tech, they do cut back and forth between this party plot and the video game plot, and, unlike the last episode, it doesn't do any creative transitions between them. One minute, we're watching Louie plot his schemes. In the next minute, that plot pauses so we can see a close-up of Huey talking about how the fate of the land is in Della's hands...that land being the garden. The joke is that Huey is boring!

Unlike Huey's insistence on staying in his force field bubble and playing FarmVille, Della wants him to explore the world, go to a checkpoint, and use all of that XP he's getting from those bugs to become super-powerful. This is all a metaphor for Huey not wanting to leave his comfort zone even with his mother goading him to do so. How subtle do they make this metaphor?

Huey: Hey Mom? I think I should step out of my comfort zone.

By outright saying it. As an aside, being one of the adventurous nephews, is Huey really the person that needs this lesson?

Back to the more exciting plot, Boyd sure plays some mean pinball, and Doofus is taking a liking to him. Louie tries to find some dirt on Boyd, looking through Mark Beaks' Waddle profile and looking at all of the pictures with his kid. Ignoring how Boyd has the same face in every picture, the biggest tell that this kid may be a fake is that there's no baby pictures!

Louie: Where are the baby pictures? Beaks would never pass up that sweet clickbait!

Goldie: Click-what, now?

Louie's not wrong, and it's good to see one scam Goldie would never take a part in. However, they need something more obvious. Eventually, Louie gets one, as he gets connected to the Beaks Optimistic Youth Droid's Wi-Fi network.

Even though Goldie isn't tech-savvy, even she can recognize an acronym when she sees it. Not willing to outright tell Doofus about his new best friend being a robot, Louie decides to just ask the B.O.Y.D. what he did two days ago.

To make a long story short, it doesn't work out, as the B.O.Y.D. starts shooting lasers out of his eyes. Wow, I guess I can't avoid reviewing shows with laser-eye-using children.

Eventually, his fake eyes melt, and he ends up falling into the pool. Mark Beaks laments that he's going to need a big bag of rice right before he'll need something to wash off honey, bees, and whatever else is in the honey bin Doofus sent him to. Goldie is impressed, and sends some praise to her not-really nephew about how they should team up on a more permanent basis.

Doofus is really upset that his newest best friend had their eyes melted, apparently at least the second year in a row this has happened. Much like Calvin and Hobbes' "noodle incident" and whatever led to his father getting a tattoo of a centaur Doofus, one's imagination can fill in the blanks far better than even the mighty DuckTales writers could on how that could happen. Only a minute after that aforementioned praise...

Goldie: Llewellyn Duck, I am so disappointed! Ruining poor Doofus' party, trying to take all the extra bags by yourself! Who raised you?

(a minute later)

Goldie: Sorry, Sharpie, I only work for myself! I want you gone, mister!

Oh, Goldie! For reasons only Doofus seems to know, he decides to arrange that last plan with the help of the BOYD. He's able to do this thanks to him grabbing the phone that just happened to slip out of Beak's hands when he sent him to the Honey Bin earlier. Doofus presses the “Kill” button on the stolen phone, and the B.O.Y.D. rises up from the pool water, mostly unharmed. So much for needing the rice.

Doofus essentially does his “psycho rich kid” shtick again, saying that his party wouldn't be complete without him beating a pinata, and he wants to hunt the most dangerous pinata: man. As he controls the BOYD, we're left to wonder if Goldie will just take the money and run, leaving Louie to get beaten by a robotic kid.

Oh, of course Goldie decides to save Louie in the end, putting herself between the rapidly spinning bat and the "Sharpie". Doofus ends up saying this was all a test to see if Goldie could be a loving parent or not. This doesn't completely add up to the cover story, but maybe that was what Doofus actually wanted, as we'll soon see.

Meanwhile, in the video game, Huey finally manages to get out of the "comfort zone" by stepping out of it. This turns the force field off, causing an alien to zap it and kidnap his mom. He initially thinks that he should have just stayed in his comfort zone, but he then realizes he needs to save his Mom. He runs towards the checkpoint, and his level begins to rise. Or, as Della says...

Della: That power level... (scouter explodes)

Oh, dear.

Della: ...it's over 9000!

Well, I guess they were not above it after all! Do not get me wrong: I don't hate this, and at least the line still fits. Huey becomes a Super Saiyan God The Duke and destroys the alien monster with his raw fisticuffs. That's pretty much it for this B plot; it ends with a scene where Della has to wrestle the keyboard away from him because he was getting too "not comfortable". Eh.

In the A plot, we get to see the aftermath of Louie and Goldie's plot: Doofus gives Louie all of the gift bags, and Goldie's good parenthood gets rewarded by becoming the new Goldiemama.

Doofus's parents: Goldiemama.

Don’t worry, that’s not the only payoff, and the other one is so satisfying, one needs to watch the episode because I will not spoil it.

It should be obvious even from this episode that being that Goldiemama is not a pleasant reward to say the least, even without the glass dome Doofus is keeping her in. Louie, knowing this, fights with himself with whether or not he should just take the money and run. Goldie did just betray him a few minutes ago. Maybe it would be a deserved punishment to let that betrayer suffer by being in the Doofus household.

Oh, of course Louie decides against taking the money and running, and goes to the rescue of his Louie Inc partner. This was a turn of events about as expected as Goldie not willing to let Doofus break the living pinata. I mean, it's not like they're just going to shoot someone into the moon...okay, that was a bad example.

Actually, come to think of it, Louie Inc doesn't really come up in this plot. Considering a future episode, he would consider stealing a business opportunity, but he has to find some way to make it technically not stealing.

As standard for my DuckTales reviews, I am not going to entirely spoil the ending of this episode. While it shouldn't be much of a spoiler to know that Louie will not be rich at the end of this episode and Goldie will be rescued, there is a very pleasant scene to see for people who just want to see Doofus' parents get something good for a change, and to see Doofus finally get something he deserved.

I'll also show this: this episode ends with this oddly touching shot of Goldie slipping in one of the on-the-spot pictures of Louie, right next to a picture of dear ol' Scroogie. Awww.

How does it stack up?

At first, I didn't really like this episode, but repeated viewings did lead me to see some of the good of this episode. However, I couldn't shake off that I didn't really like the B plot. It's not the worst, but it's not great, either. The best part is that it's not the mama's boy this time.

Despite the good moments with Glomgold, and I did like the ending of the A plot, this episode didn't do as much for me as most episodes of this show. I'm not going to send it to the Honey Bin, though.

Next, a nightmare!

← What Ever Happened To Donald Duck?! 🦆 A Nightmare on Killmotor Hill! →

#fpb dt 2017 #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #disney #fpb reviews

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