#early wicket

[brijendrasstuff]

"Exciting Match Update: Mukesh Kumar Strikes Early as Zimbabwe Chase India in 5th T20I"

Mukesh Kumar Strikes Early as Zimbabwe Chase India in 5th T20 India vs Zimbabwe, t20i match, Mukesh Kumar, cricket update, early wicket Get the latest cricket update on India vs Zimbabwe 5th T20I match – Mukesh Kumar takes an early wicket as Zimbabwe chases India. Stay on top of the action! SANJU SAMSON SMASHED 110 METER SIX 🥶💪#ZIMvIND pic.twitter.com/hL3pSFrO1L — Reality Talks (@RealityTallk)…

[just2bubbly]

just realised if we do not win today and Kohli fails to perform, Indians are gonna know who to blame for it all

[whippetcrimes]

We started the session being comfortable putting our nose in and then immediately pulling back for a treat. We end our session comfortably (loosely) bucked in

[a2zsportsnews]

ZIM vs AFG LIVE Score, 2nd Test Day 2: Afghanistan hunts for early wickets vs Zimbabwe

Follow for all live updates from the second day of the second Test between Zimbabwe and Afghanistan, being held in Bulawayo. ZIM vs AFG 2nd Test – Live Streaming Info The second Test between Zimbabwe and Afghanistan will not be telecast live in India. However, the match will be streamed live on the  FanCode app and website from 1:30 PM IST onwards. THE SQUADS ZIMBABWE Joylord Gumbie (wk), Ben…

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Fifteen Months

Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: You've known and loved Din for Fifteen Months. Here's a glimpse into your life with him. Warnings: Smut, unprotected p in v sex , oral (m and f receiving), fingering, voyeurism, fucking on camera, cum eating, lap dance, sex work, din carries you, duck pond emotions, a spray painted mandalorian helmet, goats!, farm life. Words: 8,700

Fifteen Masterlist Masterlist

—-

“Morning,” a rumbly voice says against your forehead with a kiss. “We have two new kids.”

Your eyes open wide, your heart leaping with excitement as you jump out of bed quickly. Din hastily backs away with a grin on his face.

“She had them?!” you ask as you pull on a pair of pants and grab your robe.

“She did. She’s doing good,” he says, smiling at your excitement. “The babies are healthy and happy, already nursing and everything.”

You run down the steps, Grogu at your feet. Boba’s waiting at the front door, standing guard, his tail wagging in greeting when he sees you.

Din leans over and kisses you as you throw your jacket on and step into your boots.

“Oh, good morning, by the way,” you chuckle as you throw the door open and feel the early morning chill of spring in the air.

You wrap your jacket tighter around you, your boots squishing in the dewy grass as you follow Din to the little shelter on the side of the main goat pin.

Dorothy looks up at the sound of the gate creaking. Your favorite goat looks peaceful as her two new babies are cuddled close to her.

“Hi, sweet girl,” you coo, softly stepping towards her before kneeling down to pet her head. “Look at your babies. They’re perfect.”

“Were you up all night with her?” you turn and ask Din.

“Just about,” he yawns.

“You could have come and got me,” you say, rising and dusting the straw off your knees.

“I wanted you to get some sleep,” he replies, his eyes heavy with fatigue but a little brightness, too. “Besides, I wanted to surprise you.”

Din steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you back against him.

“They’re so perfect,” you muse, watching the little kids stand on wobbly legs and find their footing in the new world.

“They are,” he admires, tightening his hold. “Cobb’s on his way. He’s going to take care of everything since I was up all night.” 

—-

As the weeks turned to months together, the long-distance from Din almost became unbearable, it kept getting harder and harder to leave Din and his farm every time you’d visit him.

So, you sold the townhouse you had worked hard to pay for on your own and moved across the country to live with Din. The idea of being separated any longer had become too much to bear, so you left behind all that was familiar to be with him.

That was five months ago. Dorothy, your favorite goat, started showing signs of her pregnancy only a couple of weeks after you moved in.

Wicket the rooster's crow is now your alarm clock, waking you up every morning in Din's arms, his handsome face only inches away. It’s hard to pull yourself away from his warm arms and soft lips, but the farm chores are waiting for both of you.

Together, you tend to the herd, milking the nannies and bottle-feeding the playful kids who frolic in the pasture. Din's gentle patience for you and all of his animals never fails to fill your heart with love.

During the afternoons, while Din takes care of the farm repairs and building projects, you tend to the garden–your hands buried in the rich soil as you plant and nurture fruits and vegetables that will eventually grace your table.

Evenings are spent in cozy domesticity with Din and your dogs, curling up next to him on the porch swing to watch the sunset paint the sky as Din’s fingers caress your skin.

At night, after all the chores are done, you still do your webcam shows, but no longer for private customers–a decision you made on your own once you left Din’s home the first time.

Din always helps you set up the equipment and watches off-camera, his heated gaze watching your every move.

You’ve embraced Din, his farm, and his life—much like he embraced you and your choice of career. You could never imagine your life without him. This life, with its simplicity and authenticity, is everything you never knew you needed, a blissful escape from the hectic pace and superficial trappings of your old life.

And you couldn't be more grateful for it all.

—-

“Din,” you whisper in his ear and leave a kiss against his cheek. “Cobb just left. It’s almost time for my show.”

Big brown eyes blink open, a smile lights his tired face.

“Hey,” he yawns. “Can’t believe I slept that long.” His hand reaches out and grabs your hip, pulling you into bed with him. His stubble scrapes against your skin as he rolls you onto your back and kisses you. His hands run along your body, slipping under your shirt to caress your soft skin. You melt into his touch, fingers tangling in his messy curls, and you sigh against his lips.

He trails kisses along your jaw down to your neck, his tongue tracing lazy patterns on your skin. You can’t resist him, arching into him, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him closer. His broad body covers you like a warm blanket.

His hand slides lower, hooking into the waistband of your pants. Just as he starts to tug them down, you very reluctantly break the kiss.

“Hold up,” you pant, struggling to catch your breath. “Ugh, the show…”

He groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I knooow,” he grumbles.

You laugh softly, soothingly running your fingers through his hair. “Want to help me tonight?”

He lifts his head, an eager and mischievous glint in his eyes. “I do.”

“You want to pick what I wear?”

Without a word, he rolls off you and strides over to the dresser, rifling through your collection of lingerie. After a moment of deliberation with his eyes studying two different bodysuits, he puts them away and grabs the same blush pink lingerie you wore the first night he and you slept together.

“Really?” you arch up an eyebrow. “That one?”

“Call me sentimental,” he smirks. Tossing you the soft, silk outfit. “Put it on pretty girl.”

“Sentimental, huh?” You grin as you shed your clothes, Din’s eyes darkening as he follows your every move.

The silk slides over your skin as you remember the first night you stayed with Din - the nerves, his declaration of love, the tenderness of his touch, and the realization that he meant everything to you.

You smooth your hands over the fabric, straightening the straps and admiring how it fits.

“Beautiful,” he whispers.

You heat under his intense gaze. “Come on, we need to set up,” you say, grabbing his hand and leading him to your studio.

—-

You’ve noticed a change in Din since you moved in with him. He’s no longer the solitary man—quiet, reserved, and focused solely on his work. As your love blossomed and you grew closer, he began smiling more readily and laughing more freely, his eyes always sparkling at the sight of you.

He used to be guarded—even a bit gruff—but soon, you saw beneath that exterior, sensing a tender heart. Now, you see that tender heart every day. The way he gently cradles a newborn kid in his strong hands. The way he kneels down on the floor to pet and hug his dogs every morning. The way he always makes your tea the exact way you like it every evening.

He’s actually playful, sometimes chasing you across the house before capturing you and ‘attacking you’ with his mouth, or dipping you for a kiss in the middle of the kitchen.

Sometimes he’ll surprise you while you’re outside hanging laundry, sneaking up and wrapping his arms around your waist before gently tackling you onto the grass. His strong arms enveloping you as he pins you beneath him, his eyes twinkling with love.

“Caught you,” he rumbles before pressing his lips to yours.

You love seeing him like this, happy and carefree. He was once your customer in a dark box, just a curious stranger, and now he’s everything to you.

—-

You check the lighting and adjust the camera tripod while Din settles into his usual spot just out of frame, putting on a pair of headphones, close enough to be heard but not seen.

You take your familiar position on the bed, knees bent to your side, with one hand supporting your weight as you lean back. As you pout your lips and adjust the strap on your top, you nod at Din, signaling that you're good to start.

“Ready?” he asks, his finger hovering over the button to start the stream.

Taking a deep breath, you slip into your online persona. “Ready.”

The red light blinks on and you smile at the camera. “Hi everyone, thanks for joining me tonight…”

As you interact with your audience, you can feel Din’s eyes on you. You steal glances at him between poses, noticing how his breathing quickens whenever you arch your back or run your hands along your thighs.

“What should I do next?” Your question is directed at your viewers and yet you know Din can tell you’re asking him.

He grins, lifting his hand into view, his finger curling in a beckoning motion.

“Yeah? You want me closer?” you purr. The chat explodes with messages of excitement.

You lean forward and crawl slowly towards the camera, risking a glance at Din, sitting in his chair shrouded in darkness, his brown eyes turning almost black when you wink at him.

Your hands trail sensually over the silk fabric of your tank top. “What should I take off first?” you ask temptingly.

“The top,” Din’s voice rumbles from off-camera. “Slowly.”

A shiver flows through your body at Din’s voice, this is the first time he’s ever spoken while you’re performing. You reach for the buttons on your shirt, teasingly undoing them one by one. The silk falling open to reveal your bare skin underneath.

The chat goes wild.

“Like this?” you ask, shrugging the garment off your shoulders and letting it fall to the mattress.

“Perfect,” he growls. You can see him palming himself through his sweatpants out of the corner of your eye.

You bite your lip, fighting every urge inside you to look directly at Din. The camera and your customers demand your attention, but you can only feel his eyes on you.

“What next?” you ask breathily.

Din’s voice husks through the air. “Touch yourself,” he commands in a low tone. “Slowly.”

Your hands slide down your body, tracing delicate patterns across your stomach before dipping lower. The silk of your shorts feels smooth against your hand as you tease and rub yourself through the fabric.

“Feels so good, when your hands are all over me,” you moan into the camera. “Feel how wet you make me? I’m so fucking soaked for you baby.”

Din grunts from the darkness as you arch your back and press your breasts together.

“Should I take these off?” you ask, pushing down the waistband of your shorts.

The chat dings with responses, but you wait for Din’s command.

“Yes,” breathes out from his lips.

You slide the shorts down inch by inch and toss them playfully towards Din’s direction before spreading your legs wide, your hand slipping between them, stroking yourself slowly. You moan as you work your fingers in small circles, your hips rocking against your hand.

You hear Din’s breathing grow heavier.

“Mm, it feels so good,” you purr. “But chat… do you think I should have some help?”

He leans forward, his brows rising in surprise. You’ve never asked Din to join in your cam sessions before, but seeing him in the background, watching you every time has become too much. You want him to be a part of it now.

Your audience sends a wave of thumbs ups and enthusiastic messages.

“Baby,” you say breathlessly, “come here.”

He hesitates for a moment before standing up and moving to the side of the bed, just out of frame. His brown eyes are wide with surprise and desire as he reaches his hand out towards you. The chat goes wild as his hand comes into view on camera, trailing up your leg.

His touch is warm and reverent as his fingertips finally brush against your wet folds. “That’s it, touch me,” you moan, relishing in the feel of Din as your customers watch.

His fingers explore you slowly, spreading your wetness and tracing lazy, soft circles around your clit. You lock eyes with him as he slips a finger inside you, momentarily forgetting about the hundreds of viewers on the monitor.

Din nods his head towards the screen, reminding you that you’re at work. You look back at the camera, as Din slowly fucks you with his thick finger.

“Fuck, you feel so good inside me,” you pant for your viewers, losing yourself in Din’s touch. His thumb finds your clit, brushing softly against it. “Just like that.”

He smirks as he watches you unravel beneath his touch. Your back arching as you push your breasts together and tug at your nipples.

“More,” you gasp between moans, your body beginning to tremble as the chat goes crazy watching you lose yourself under Din’s touch.

He responds immediately, adding another finger and stretching you. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he says, his voice thick with lust.

Your hips lift to meet his hand, seeking more pressure, grinding your pussy against his palm. "Talk to me baby, they want to hear you talk to me,” you beg.

His brows furrow in thought, his thumb brushing circles against your clit while his fingers fuck you deeper. “Let it go baby. You’re gorgeous, you like my fingers?”

“Yes, god yes,” you moan as his hand worships your cunt.

“Cum for me baby, show them how I can make you cum.”

“Oh god,” you cry out, your head falling back onto the mattress as you surrender to his touch, breathing hard as your hips cant against him. “I want you,” you beg, leaving the thoughts of your hundreds of viewers behind.

“I’ll give you what you want soon enough,” he promises. “Keep going for them.”

The pressure is building within you, your heart racing and when Din angles his fingers up, that familiar heat pools in your core, every nerve ending dancing and tingling across you.

“Gonna—” you whimper.

“Just a little longer,” he urges, his voice low. “I want them to see how much I love making you feel this way.”

You nod, breathless, your body set alight. You can hear the distant sound of notifications and gifts pinging from the chat, but all you can focus on is Din and his thick fingers.

"I'm so close," you gasp as his thumb presses firmly against your clit. He quickens his pace, fingers moving faster and deeper until your body can't take it anymore.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Cum. Cum for them.”

Din pilots you closer to your peak. Your thighs quaking around his hand, your cunt clenching his fingers as your body begins its ascent towards bliss.

“Oh god,” you moan.

“Cum for me baby,” he growls. “Let go.”

The world explodes around you, stars floating through your eyes as your entire body convulses. Your breath hitching, the world narrowing to just you and Din as you orgasm, gone are your viewers, gone are the dings from the speakers.

“That’s it baby,” he coos. “Look at how fucking beautiful you are. You’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum.”

Your body trembles in the aftershocks as he brings his soaked fingers to his lips, eagerly tasting you. Only you can see how his eyes close in pleasure as he licks his fingers clean.

“You did so good for me—and them,” he praises, his own breathing ragged as he pulls down his sweatpants.

"Thanks for tuning in chat, now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get fucked by my helper,” you say winking before clicking the DISCONNECT button.

Din pounces on you, pinning you to the bed with his muscular body. "Be careful!" you yell. “The equipment!”

Din grins widely as he kisses you. “Don’t worry about the equipment, I’ll set it back up later,” he growls against your lips. “Right now, I’m going to take care of you.”

With one smooth motion, he flips you over onto your stomach. You gasp in surprise as his strong hands grip your hips, pulling you up onto your hands and knees.

He kneels behind you, his hardness pressing against the cleft of your ass. You moan and push back against him, wanting to feel more of him. He chuckles at your eagerness and gives your ass a playful smack that makes you yelp.

“Guess you liked helping me?” you breathily ask.

“I did,” he runs his hand down your spine. “You want my help again?”

“Always,” you breathe, arching your back to present yourself to him.

He groans at the sight of your glistening pussy, swollen with desire for only him. He leans down, placing a tender kiss at the base of your spine. “Look at you, all ready for me, pretty girl.”

His strong thighs brush against yours as he lines himself up with your aching cunt. The broad head of his cock teases your folds as he coats himself in your slick. You moan and push your hips back as you try to take him in.

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as your pussy accepts him into your tight heat inch by inch.

He sheathes himself fully inside you, filling and completing you. A low groan rumbles from DIn’s chest as he bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your ass. “You feel incredible,” he rasps, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips.

“I’m yours."

“Yeah? You’re mine? This tight, wet pussy is all for me?” He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he nuzzles into your neck. His stubble scrapes across the sensitive skin. “Mine,” he hisses possessively. “My beautiful girl.”

He fucks into you faster and harder, the bed you use to touch yourself for your customers now creaking and thudding against the wall from Din’s power. You fist your hands in the sheets, holding on as Din pounds into you. You feel another orgasm in your orbit, the stars beginning to show behind your eyes.

“I’m close,” you whimper. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” Din pants. “I’ll never stop loving you, taking care of you, making you feel this good…”

His words makes your orgasm rocket through you, your pussy clenching rhythmically around Din’s cock as you see a galaxy across your eyelids.

Din keeps thrusting, grunting with exertion as he fucks your soaked cunt, chasing his own release.

“Fill me with your cum,” you urge breathlessly.

“Fuck, I love you. I’m gonna—” his hips stutter and with a deep thrust, he buries himself inside you. A warrior’s moan tears from his throat as his cock pulses, painting your walls with his cum.

Your arms give out, and you collapse onto the bed, Din follows you, lying down next to you. The two of you lay together, panting for air, a tangle of sweaty and sated limbs. Din wraps his arms around you, pulling you close against his heaving chest. You nuzzle into his neck, planting soft kisses along his jaw.

"That was amazing," you murmur. "Having you with me on camera like that. God, it was so hot."

"Mm, it was," he agrees, his voice a low rumble.

"Maybe we should make it a regular thing. I'm sure my viewers would love it."

“As long as I don’t have to show my face, I’d love nothing more. I love watching you, but being able to touch you in front of your audience. I can’t believe I used to be one of your customers.”

You chuckle softly, snuggling closer against him. "And now look at us. I know way more about goats than I ever thought possible and you know way more about live streaming sex shows than you ever thought possible.”

He laughs and tilts his head down to leave a kiss against your forehead. “I never imagined I could be this happy. This farm feels like a real home now, with you here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

—-

As the warm, late spring weather rolls in, your days on the farm become even busier. The goat kids are growing bigger and braver, exploring more of their surroundings each day. Your nights are spent performing shows for your many viewers, the addition of Din’s hands and voice have driven you watcher views up. You both notice more gifts and chat messages from female viewers, it empowers the two of you to put on even more of a show for them. With a bit of ingenuity and a can of silver spray paint, you’ve come up with the perfect solution for him to not show his face.

Din sits in his office, going over invoices and the calendar as you saunter in wearing one of your favorite dresses.

"Din," you catch his attention.

He turns in his chair, an adoring smile lighting slowly spreads across his lips. "Yeah baby?"

“I thought of a solution for you to not show your face,” you say with a small smile. “Close your eyes.” 

He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, giving you a curious look before he obeys and shuts his eyes.

You quickly open the closet and pull out the surprise, placing it in his hands.

“Okay, open now.”

He opens his eyes to find a silver helmet in his hands.

“So, that one dude you like from that space movie? I ordered one of his helmets…”

He admires it, turning it in his hand.

“The bounty hunter “ he muses quietly. "My favorite."

“I was worried about copyright soooo I painted it silver instead. But this way… you can be on camera with me without anyone seeing your face.”

His dark brown eyes look up at you, a wicked smile spreading across his lips. 

“Put it on Din.”

His handsome face is slowly covered by the silver helmet.

“It even modulates your voice a bit…”

Din sits clad in his black sweat pants and black t shirt now with the silver helmet atop his head, making him look even larger and more intimidating. His shoulders sit higher, giving off an aura of power and dominance.

“How’s it feel?” you ask, staring at your bounty hunter disguised boyfriend.

“Good, just fine” his voice comes out different from the speaker. A little more tinny, crinkling with feedback—just like how you first heard him through your computer speakers. You’re ridiculously turned on by it. 

“You look… good," you admire. “Really good baby.”

His posture shifts as he leans back, resembling a king with the helmet on… like it was made for him.

"Then, come show me how good I look, pretty girl."

You saunter over and kneel down in front of him, placing your hands on his knees slowly sliding them up his strong thighs as you look up at the expressionless helmet. Your heart races, imagining his eyes watching you behind the visor.

“Is this what you want?” you ask, fingertips grazing the growing bulge in his sweatpants.

“You know exactly what I want,” Din’s modulated voice responds, sending goosebumps across your skin.

You lean forward, nuzzling your face and placing a kiss against the softness of his inner thigh. Your hands move to the waistband of his pants. “May I?,” you ask, tugging gently. He lifts his hips, helping you slide them down.

His cock springs free. Your hands wrap around the base before you give it a firm stroke as you look up at the helmet.

“I love how you look in this,” you muse, before leaning into give the tip of it a kiss. “My bounty hunter.”

The sound of Din’s breath hitching is distorted through the helmet’s speaker. Slowly, you take him into your mouth, savoring the familiar taste of him on your tongue.

You hum around his cock at his praise, taking him deeper into your mouth. You know exactly how he looks under the helmet now. No longer your black square mystery. You can picture his eyes squeezed shut, his bottom lip captured in his teeth, the middle of his eyebrows creased in pleasure.

“Fuck,” he grunts. The modulator gives his voice an extra edge, an extra growl.

Your tongue swirls around his sensitive head already leaking for you, imparting the bitter, salty taste of him against your lips.

“Look at me,” he softly commands.

Your gaze lifts to meet the dark visor of the helmet, imagining the deep brown eyes behind it.

“That’s my pretty girl,” you can hear the smile in his voice.

Your cheeks hollow as you suck him harder, his hips softly thrusting into your mouth.

“So good,” his voice crackles through the speaker. “Always so good to me.”

You take him deeper, choking on the length of him as you relax your throat. His breathing grows heavier, punctuated by grunts of pleasure and your name.

“Hold on, hold on,” Din says suddenly, gently pulling you off him. “Come here baby.”

He helps you rise to your feet, before pulling you onto his lap, your chest meets his. His strong arms wrap around you.

You straddle his lap, the heft of his hard cock presses against you through the thin fabric of your panties. His hands roam across your body, caressing you with reverence and adoration. The cool metal of his helmet brushes against your cheek as he leans in close to you.

“I want to feel you,” Din’s modulated voice rumbles through you.

You nod, lifting your hips as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down in a swift motion and tossing them aside.

A gasp leaves your lips as you sink down on him. You begin to move on him, rolling your hips in steady waves. Your hands grab his broad shoulders, relishing in the warmth of his body.

His voice comes low and husky through the helmet. “Take what you want pretty girl.”

“You feel so good,” you moan. “So big inside me. Just perfect baby.”

Din’s hips thrust up to meet you, his cock hitting deeper inside you.

“Din,” you moan, resting your forehead against the cool metal of his helmet. The rapid beat of his heart thuds against your hands when you place them on his chest. Pulling back, you look into the helmet, unable to see his face, but knowing the exact intense look of concentration he always has when he’s close.

He slides his hand between your bodies, and finds your clit, swirling it in sweet circles against it. A gasp escapes your lips and you smile at the pleasure coursing through you. Your hips instinctively buck against his hand, craving more of him. The pressure builds as his thick cock and skilled finger make you move more frantic. Your hands move up his neck to grip the base of his helmet.

“I…want to kiss you,” you whimper as you lift the helmet, exposing his handsome face.

The sweat across his dewy skin makes it glow even more golden. His plush lips are slightly parted as he looks at you with his big brown eyes. Leaning in to kiss him, the helmet slips from your hand and lands on the floor with a thud.

God, you’ve missed seeing him. Your fingers tangle into the soft, dark curls of his hair as you lean forward. “I love you,” you breathe out against his chin, kissing your way down to his neck, licking the slight salt of his sweat and tasting him.

Din's thumb increases its pressure on your clit as he thrusts up harder into you. "I love you, so much," he pants, his voice rumbling against you with desire and adoration.

Your core tightens, the familiar tingle that only Din can give you washes over your body. You trail your tongue up to his mouth and kiss him hungrily.

"Din," you gasp, breaking the kiss as your orgasm lights through your body. Shuddering in his arms, clenching around his thick cock. You lean back, letting him fuck into your slickness as your muscles grow loose.

With a guttural groan, he thrusts his hips against you, his movements stuttering as he follows you over the edge. His thick cock pulsing inside of your walls as he cums. You feel his warm breath on your neck as he buries his face in the crook of it.

For a moment, you both stay still, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms and trying to catching your breath. Din's hand runs soothingly up and down your back as you come down from your high.

"You're incredible," he murmurs, voice thick with reverence and awe. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"I'm the lucky one," you whisper back, reaching up to cup his jaw. "You've given me everything I never knew I needed.”

“Maybe I should wear the helmet—for your next show?” he asks, his eyebrow tilting up.

“I think you should,” you smile, guiding his face down to yours, capturing his lips in a slow, deep kiss. “I’ll let the fans know to expect something different.”

—-

As the weeks pass, you notice Din spending more evenings out in the old barn on the edge of the property. He always kisses you sweetly before heading out, promising he won't be long. But the hours stretch on, and on some nights, he’s out there long past bedtime.

Curiosity gnaws at you, but you respect his wishes to let his trips to the barn remain a mystery.

One night, as you’re sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and splitting corn bread with Grogu, Din returns through the back door with Boba happily trotting behind him.

“Welcome home,” you wink, standing to pour him a cup of tea.

“Mm,” he hums happily.

“Am I ever going to find out what you’re doing out there?”

“You’ll see soon enough, pretty girl,” he assures with a dimple deepening grin.

He steps behind you wrapping his arms around your waist as you pour him a cup. He nuzzles into your neck peppering your skin with soft kisses.

“Be careful,” you order, “the tea is hot.”

“Mm,” he tugs on your shoulder, turning you to face him. “I no longer want the tea.”

He grabs your ass, lifting you up into his hold. Your surprised yelp echoes through the room as you quickly wrap your legs around his waist for support.

“Din! What are you doing?” you giggle breathlessly.

He strides to the kitchen island, carrying you in his arms like a prized bounty and places you atop the cool butcher block.

“I want a taste of you,” he grins roguishly. His large hands skim up your thighs, bunching up the fabric of your dress.

“Oh god,” you roll your eyes. “You’re ridic—”

Your breath hitches as his hand reaches the apex of your thighs.

“No panties, huh? Were you waiting for me, pretty girl?” he asks, his finger tracing lightly along your bare skin, finding you already wet for him.

“Always,” you breathe.

He sinks to his knees before you, spreading your thighs wide and hooking your legs over his broad shoulders. His stubble scratches against your inner thighs as he nuzzles closer to your core. The cool wood and his warm touch sends a shiver through your body.

You gasp at the first touch of his tongue against your sensitive clit. He works his way around it with slow, deliberate licks and kisses, gently sucking and pulsing his tongue.

You moan loudly, tangling your fingers into his dark hair. He hums with appreciation against your skin as you pull the soft waves, urging him on. He laps at your arousal, drinking down the wetness you spill for him.

You press yourself harder against his eager mouth, he devours you, his thick tongue delving in and out of your eager cunt.

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Oh my god.”

Your muscles begin to tense, your thighs begin to quake. Din’s tongue works tirelessly again your cunt.

“Close,” you gasp, your hips rolling against his face.

He groans as his tongue journeys up to your clit before flicking it rapidly against you. Two of his fingers slide into you, the stretch of them and the slow drag in which he pulls them in and out of you transports your orgasm higher. The familiar galaxy of stars Din always brings you twinkle behind your eyelids as you pulse against his fingers and tongue.

You fall apart atop the cool wood, with Din’s hot mouth against you working you through your orgasm, lapping up every drop you give him.

Your fingers comb through his soft hair, massaging his scalp with affection as he places soft kisses along your thighs.

“My tea’s probably cold by now.” he says, rising from between your legs and giving you a kiss. “Guess we should just take this to bed, huh?”

You chuckle breathlessly. “It’ll be a hell of a lot softer on my back than the countertop I can vegetables on.”

A wide smile spreads across his face as he lifts you up into his arms and carries you upstairs.

—-

“Ready for this?” You ask, holding the helmet out to him.

“I am,” he nods.

“I love you.”

He leans in, giving you a kiss before raising the helmet up to his head. “I love you too.”

Din sits on the chair, clad in his new helmet and his black sweatpants, his muscular, golden chest on full display for you, and soon, your viewers.

You hit the link to your show’s room. Your mouth drops at the amount of viewers waiting.

“Holy shit,” you gasp. “We have over 2,000 viewers.”

A rumbling hmph leaves the helmet.

“It’s just you and me,” you remind him.

“Hit connect baby,” he says, sitting up straighter and folding his arms across his chest.

You do as he says and hit connect. Hiding your nervousness and shock behind a sultry smile.

“Hi everyone,” you purr. “I see a lot of new faces here tonight. I guess word got around about my new costar.”

You sway your hips slowly and teasingly, the messages of your viewers illuminating the contours of your body as you let the anticipation build. Din watches intently, his helmeted head tilted slightly.

“Tonight,” you say, before glancing back to Din, “you’re going to watch me fuck my boyfriend.”

The chat explodes, gifts and tips fill the sidebar. Turns out, there is a market for this.

You turn away, stepping closer to Din, each movement slow and sensual as you dance across the room. You can see his breath hitch behind the visor as he takes in every inch of your body and each roll of your hips.

His face is totally concealed by his helmet, and yet you feel his eyes stalking you as you dance for him and your viewers.

Bending over, you plant your hands atop his thick thighs, gripping them and staring into the visor as you give him a wink and mouth “I love you.” His body tenses as he keeps his arms folded across his chest.

You turn your back to him, giving him a full view of your ass barely covered in the silver fabric of the thong he picked out specifically for tonight. You begin to move in rhythm with the music softly playing in the background, gliding your hands along the soft skin of your thighs. You turn slightly to look over your shoulder at him as your hands travel up to your silver bra unclasping it and baring your chest to the camera.

The speaker on the headset amplifies his breathing, reminding you of the first night you talked to him. Deep, steady breaths, sometimes a small grunt, maybe a light whimper.

You dance along to the song, dipping low before popping up with a twist of your hips, your hands charting a path across your skin, pinching and pulling your nipples before dipping down to the shiny straps of your thong. The snap of the fabric against your hip stings when you give it a playful tug then let it go.

"I’m soaked for you,” you moan, running your hand across the wet seam of your thong.

Turning to face him, your lips curl into a teasing smirk at the sight of him. The silver helmet may conceal his face, but his body's response to your dance is evident. His chest rises and falls in sync with his deep breaths, his arms now uncrossed and resting on his thighs as his hands grip tightly.

Slowly, you slink over to him and straddle his lap., reveling in the power you holder over him with your movements. Your hands land on his broad shoulders as you grind against the hardness straining against his black sweatpants.

“You like what you see, baby?” you purr, loud enough for the mic to pick up.

“Always,” his modulated voice rumbles.

You rock your hips, rubbing yourself against his bulge. Soft gasps and moans spill from your lips, your head falling back in pleasure. 

“Do you want me to keep dancing for you?” you ask, swirling your hips.

“Yes,” he hisses.

“No touching,” you kiss the cool metal of his helmet. “Okay?”

The helmet tilts when he nods an affirmative.

Sliding off Din's lap, your fingers run along his chest as you rise. With a sultry smirk, you turn and sway your hips as you walk a few steps away from him. The beat of the music pulses through the room as you begin to dance.

Your hands glide over your body, fingers trailing across your skin as you arch your back and roll your hips.

Slowly, you turn to face him, his helmet is tilted as he watches intently.

When you reach him, you place your hands on his wide shoulders and lean in close. "Eyes on me, bounty hunter,” you whisper, your breath fans across the cool metal of his helmet.

Straddling his lap once more, you begin to grind against him in rhythm with the music. Your hips roll and swivel, creating delicious friction between you. Din's hands clench and unclench at his sides, fighting against the urge to touch you.

“Remember," you purr, "no touching."

A groan crackles through the helmet's speaker. You grin, knowing exactly how much he wants to touch you.

Rolling your body on top of him, your breasts graze against his chest before you lean back, your fingers tracing the curve of your breasts and down your stomach to the waistband of your thong.

Din's breathing grows heavier, the sound crackling through the helmet's speaker.

You rise off of him and turn to face the camera, your fingers hooking into the waistband of your thong, teasing at the thin silver fabric. You lock eyes with the camera as you slowly peel the garment down, revealing your soaked cunt to your viewers.

Facing Din again, you lower yourself to all fours and crawl to him. Your hands gliding up his thighs as you rise, nuzzling your face against the tent of his pants before pressing your body against his. You can feel the heat radiating off him and the tension in his muscles as he fights not to touch you. 

Turning around, you lower yourself onto his lap, your back to his chest. Your ass grinds against his hardness, feeling it strain against his sweatpants.

You’re aching and wet for him, each light whimper from his headset pools even more wetness between your legs.

“Go ahead and touch me baby,” you moan.

Din's hands immediately grasp your hips, pulling you firmly against him. His hands roam your body, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other dips between your thighs. You gasp as his fingers find your clit, circling it slowly.

“Feel how wet I am for you baby?” you moan.

A muffled groan escapes the helmet's speaker, Din’s fingers exploring your slick.

You roll your hips against his hand seeking more of his touch. 

“You want me to fuck him, chat?”

A splurge of thumbs ups and resounding yeses fill your screen.

You rise off Din's lap and turn to face him, hands gliding down his muscular chest to the waistband of his sweatpants. Slowly, teasingly, you tug them down, freeing his hard cock, his tip thick and glistening with precum. There’s something about sharing Din’s gorgeous cock with thousands of your viewers. One of the first glimpses you ever got of him was his golden toned cock, and now, here in the home you share, you’re sharing it with the world. 

"Look how hard you make him, chat," you purr, wrapping your hand around his length and giving it a slow stroke. Din's hips twitch at your touch, a hiss of breath crackling through the helmet's speaker. You smile at him, proud of his bravery and enthusiasm for your job.

You straddle his lap, the tip of his cock nudging against your soaked entrance.

Bracing your hands on his broad shoulders, you take all of him in when you settle on his cock. His hands slide around to grip your ass, as you begin to move on top of him.

The stinging stretch of him inside you feels so familiar, and yet everything is different now. Now, thousands of people are watching you take his cock as he stays concealed behind the shiny, silver mask.

You grin down at Din’s exposed chest under the helmet before leaning down and taking his nipple into your mouth, sucking on it hard. If you can’t kiss his lips, you’ll kiss his body.

Din’s hips jerk forward, his cock hitting deeper against your tightness.

You lick your way up his body and kiss the metal of his helmet. "This isn't fair," you breathe out against it, "you look so fucking hot."

Din growls into the speaker, his voice modulated and deep as his hands slide up your sides possessively.

“Face them, show them how you take my cock.”

You moan loudly, at his words, quickly turning in his hold and sinking back down on him, taking all of his thick cock.

Your back presses against his broad chest, his hands wrapping around to cup your breasts and pinch your nipples.

"Ride me just like that, pretty girl," he rumbles. "Take what you need."

Din’s hands roam over your body, strong and calloused against your soft skin. His fingers find your clit, rubbing and flicking it just the way he knows you love it.

Din growls again, his hips snapping up to meet yours with force. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you as you reach behind him and grip onto his thick thighs for support as you ride him.

You can see the comments flooding in on your screen, filled with praises.

"I'm close baby, so close," you whimper, arching your back against his broad chest. The cool metal of his helmet presses against your shoulder.

"Cum for me," Din commands. The rumble from his speaker transports you right back to the nights you used to spend together, thousands of miles away from each other. Now, you’re here in the home you both share, taking his cock for your audience.

Everything sends you over the edge. You want to shout Din’s name, but you also wish to respect his anonymity... so you decide on a compromise.

“Mando!” you scream as your orgasm bursts through you. His breathing grows more rapid as your walls clench around his thick cock. Your head thuds against the metal of his helmet, your eyes squeezing tight, your lip capturing between your teeth as you you cum for Din—and your audience.

He lets out a groan that crackles through the speakers as he spills himself deep inside you. You collapse back against him, your bodies slick with sweat and chests heaving.

For a moment, you forget about the camera, the viewers, the chat still going wild as you listen to the cadence of Din’s breathing through the helmet’s speakers.

Slowly, still quivering in the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, you rise up from Din's lap. His softening cock slips out of you as you stand on wobbly legs. Turning to face the camera, you give your viewers a sultry smile.

"Look what he did to me," you purr, reaching down to spread yourself open with two fingers. Din's cum begins to drip out of your well-fucked pussy, glistening on your inner thighs. You trail a finger through the slick mess, bringing it to your lips to taste the mixture of you and Din.

The chat explodes with comments and tips, everyone going wild at the sight before them. You can’t look away from the image of Din on the monitor, sitting back in the chair, his broad chest heaving as he catches his breath. He’s naked, his cock laying heavily between his legs, glistening with a mixture of your collective orgasms.

"Mmm, he always fills me up so good," you moan appreciatively, scooping up more of the creamy fluid leaking out of you. You slip your fingers into your mouth, making a show of licking them clean and savoring the taste of Din's release.

Behind you, Din stands. You watch in the monitor as he stalks forward.

The chat window is full of flames, hearts, and messages. Encouragement for the two of you flowing in by your viewers. You smile at the camera as Din comes up behind you, pulling you close against his body and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Hope you enjoyed everybody! We’ll see you next week.” The silver of Din’s helmet glints in the light when he nods as you shut down the show.

“Holy fuck!” you scream when you see the money from tonight’s show in your account, more than you’ve ever dreamed of earning. You turn around in his hold, lifting the helmet up and giving him a kiss. “Din, the audience loves you.”

—-

The wooden bench with its chipping paint and indentations from years of use overlooking the little pond the ducks gather in is your favorite spot on this earth. Better than the clubhouse in the woods behind your childhood home that you used to call yours as a curious child, better than the sanctuary of a townhome you used to call yours with all of your belongings, better than the bedroom you now share with your boyfriend who you love with all of your heart.

The sun has long gone down, the little lantern hanging on the wooden post swings in the night breeze as the moon sits high and full in the sky. 

A warm jacket is placed around your shoulders. It smells of Din. 

“Hi,” you turn and smile at him.

He gives you a shy smile and joins you on the bench, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer. 

You breathe in the familiar smell of him along with the wet dirt and the dew left on the grass. It smells of home. 

He sighs, his fingers against your shoulder tap nervously.

“You alright?” you ask.

He looks at you, deep brown eyes meeting yours and nods with a soft smile.

“I still can’t believe you’re here with me sometimes.” 

“I know, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He hums in agreement. 

“I think we were destined to be together, like it was somehow written in the stars,” he says, his voice deep and introspective as he gazes up at the twinkling stars above. “I used to dream of being in space and looking down on earth, like I never belonged down here. But now, with you, I feel like… I belong.”

You lean your head against his shoulder and look up to the dark sky painted with stars.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you smile, tracing a constellation with your finger. “These can be our stars.”

Din’s hand gently covers yours, his thick fingers lingers on your ring finger.

“I like those,” he says with a nervous breath. “They’re ours now.”

He pulls away, turning to look you in your eyes, a shy smile deepening his dimple. “Would you stay here with me forever as… my wife?”

Your eyes widen in surprise and tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” you breathlessly say.

Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart races as he reaches into his jacket, pulling out a beautiful golden ring with delicate stars etched onto it.

“This is what I’ve been working on in the barn all those nights. I made it myself.”

Tears fall down your face as Din takes your left hand and slides the ring on your finger. It fits perfectly, as if it was meant to be there all along.

You stare at the golden band, captivated by how beautiful it looks on your finger. This is where you are meant to be, with him.

“I love you,” you whisper, your voice full of emotion.

“I love you too,” Din replies. “We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all.”

—-

Fifteen Years Later...

Two quiet giggles awaken you from your sleep.

"It's Christmas! Can we go downstairs?" Bo asks excitedly, bouncing on her feet, her face lit with an excited smile. "I think I heard Santa last night!"

“No you didn’t,” Greef responds, rolling his eyes. “The chimney’s on the other side of the house.”

“Greef, ” Din sternly commands as he rises out of bed. “Be nice.”

“Sorry dad,” Greef apologizes.

You smile sleepily at your children's excitement, stretching as you climb out of bed.

“Come on!” Bo yells as she runs out the door.

"Alright, alright, we're coming," you yawn, quickly pulling on your robe and slippers.

Din wraps his arm around your waist as you make your way downstairs, following the pitter-patter of little feet racing ahead of you.

It was around this time ten years ago that Din sat you down and told you about Greef and Bo, the twin foundlings in need of a family. As a former foundling himself, Din couldn't bear the thought of the twins not having a safe and nurturing home. With tears in your eyes and love in your heart, you both made the decision to become the parents of Greef and Bo. The call to Cobb was made, and what used to be your livestream studio, turned into a nursery.

That first Christmas as a family of four, Din had planted Christmas trees on your farm. Now, one of those trees is sitting proudly in the corner of your living room, covered in twinkling lights and handmade ornaments.

"Look! Santa came!" Bo squeals, pointing at the cookie crumbs.

"Can we open presents now? Please?" Greef asks, barely containing his excitement.

“Hold on, let me get the coffee going,” Din chuckles, heading to the kitchen to turn the coffee maker on.

The kids vibrate with wonderment, taking in all of the brightly wrapped presents underneath the tree.

“Okay, have at them,” Din says, settling onto the couch next to you and pulling you close.

The kids don’t hesitate, diving for the presents. Bo chooses a soft, squishy package while Greef grabs a rectangular box, tearing into the wrapping paper.

"A new stuffed animal!" Bo exclaims, hugging a plush bear to her chest. "I'm gonna name her Chewie."

"Awesome, the new flying game I wanted!" Greef grins, examining the box. “Can we play it later, Dad?”

“We can,” Din nods with a warm smile. "I'm a pretty good pilot if I do say so myself."

You spend the next hour watching the kids open gift after gift, their faces lighting up with each reveal. There are new books, art supplies, clothes, and toys scattered across the floor. Fifteen minutes has turned into fifteen years. A black box of mystery has turned into a house full of love.

—-

A/N: Thank you *SO* much for reading. I loved writing Din and his cam girl, and I hope you love the glimpse of their future life together.

[the-monkeies-girl]

I NEED a one-shot of reader finding out blue eyes can speak.

*in a quiet voice* sno snoft ( so soft )

Title: Temporary Fix. Fandom: ( Dawn of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Mentions of blood, minor injury. ) Pairing: ( AW YEAH ) Implied Blue Eyes x Human!Reader. Words: 3K+ Summary: You were spending your afternoon making spears with the Ape Prince himself. Humans are clumsy, remember?

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There was a lot more said in silence, or at least… That’s how it often felt like when you were with Blue Eyes, the stoic nature of his personality made moments sitting in front of the communal bonfire all the more delectable. You didn't feel pressured into conversations, like you did with Caesar. You knew the Ape King wouldn’t force you to talk regardless, but his relentless stare often left you feeling like you needed to say something to break the otherwise suffocating intimidation he just seeped from every pore.

It was a funny notion to think about, that Blue Eyes was starkly different in that aspect. Maybe, you thought with a tilt of your head as your finger slid across the blunted part of the spearhead between your fingers, with time, he’ll grow into that but for now, he was surely more like his Mother. Silent, but always observing, knowing things about others that they did not even know about themselves. 

Noises were frequent enough, especially given the circumstances of Apes always being around and it ultimately being a very indicative way to communicate across the Colony when they were too far from each other to actually sign or even in rare instances, speak. Hoots and hoos, howls and huffs all when Blue Eyes was with Ash and a joke had been made or they were just bent on pestering each other with no intended thoughts on getting anything done were amusing enough and you found yourself often laughing along with them.

But, you had managed to get the regal Prince alone for once, your chest swelling with the tiniest bit of pride at that. Incredibly placid quiet draped over the two of you like the stillness of a lake in the early morning and you didn't want it any other way. He’d occasionally sign at you - Well, not occasionally, he was more or less hassling at you as your fingers worked diligently at tying a spearhead to the top of a semi-thick wicket. Blue Eyes was giving direction with one hand, the signing a bit fast for you to properly understand but you got the gist.

You fell in and out of conversations, spotting here and there primarily about how you were working the twine into the spear to keep it steady and gripped when you went to use it. The way his thickened fingertips had gently urged yours for a split second, his body graceful in its movements as he shuffled in a crouched position to angle himself right in front of you. Your eyes met his, the ample nature of yours a curious thing to Blue Eyes as he looked down at the work in process fishing spear you were working on, his brow ridge sinking in a bit. Humans… So hard to read their emotions, he thought to himself and huffed silently. The Prince had a hard time reading your eyes especially when they were coated in flurry and frenzy.

Shoulders rose and then fell in a quickened pace as he urged you to hand your stick over, it felt like your heart was resting in the back of your throat and whatever reality the bonfire was keeping you secure in seemed to fly right out the window. Overcome with a mild roundedness of embarrassment at the fact that you had been gawking at him by the closeness he provided, he took the stick into his own hands and inspected it waveringly. Blue Eyes was aware you were looking at him. He’d be too obvious to not notice that. Humans, again, he thought, unlike Apes, were not subtle with staring. At least, so he noticed from the times you had been infatuated with watching the Apes prepare meals, with how Apes communally groomed on occasion, the pure stances of which they all walked compared to the amused gait that you used, tripping over yourself… All fascinated you, all left you breathless but to Blue Eyes, they were all incredibly mundane. He found himself amused enough, often in silent moments of self-introspection… What you were thinking about them. A constant battle he admittedly found himself wrapped in. The vague idea that this was what Ceasar intended when Blue Eyes was given the task to keep an eye on you did occur to him once or twice, not that it was any more of a problem than the scars that were building along his shoulder and chest. You’d been here long enough to establish an opinion on them. From his own Father, Blue Eyes learned only toleration towards Humans and adamantly refused to see the good in them, but once you began spending more time with him and Ash, occasionally falling into a quartet when River joined along, his toleration was able to evolve into moderate acceptance and only now teetered the line of full-blown acceptance of you being an actual and contributing part of the Colony. 

That was the Caesar in him talking, Blue Eyes knew and hated that his Father had pestered him enough to draw his thoughts down that road. As long as you contributed, you were allowed to stay. He wondered about that, letting his gaze lead over towards the family nest for a second when you were enthralled in watching his inspection. Blue Eyes had the feeling his Father would let you stay even if you didn't give anything back in return. Caesar was imposing and undiluted, but he had yet to turn heartless and had a fevered hot-spot for Humans in trouble. Hence why you were. Hence why you remained here.

While times like these were nice to the Chimp, he found the suffocation of tension drifting off you tearing him down to the very depths of the innermost thoughts he tried often to leave to their own devices. He… Was unable to tell what it was though, the tension. You had every right to be afraid of him, but you didn't appear that way. Not when you sought to look him in the eyes, not the way that your face had dropped when he arrived back from the Hunt weeks ago with three bloodied gashes along his body, a cut on his face.

Not when you offered him something called ‘antibiotics’, a cream of sorts you had kindly explained to him holding the tube for his eyes to inspect and judge, similar in nature to the root paste that the Apes themselves used for minor cuts and bruises. Blue Eyes had denied it then but--- His train of thought derailed, one wheel at a time, would you have put it on him if he accepted? The fur along his shoulder unexpectedly bristed at the idea of your much daintier and smaller hands against his body. A fleeting thought, but enough to cause that pit in the deepest depths of his navel.

Blue Eyes tightened your twine with a nimble touch, bringing the head down and smacking it on the ground experimentally to make sure it wouldn’t falter. You had jumped at the clutter, an instinct that was based in primal fear. Blue Eyes, you knew very well from the proximity now of his canines dangling in front of your gaze, his mouth slightly ajar, could take your life if he chose. He was gentle-spoken and seemed considerate to your needs but… There was always that lingerance in the back of your head like a hammer. You searched for his gaze again to interlock in quiet to see if you were able to deduce what he was thinking, but he refused and was pretty set in giving you back the spear with a mild ‘good, move onto the next. Young Ape start fishing next sunrise, need 5 more.’

Your knowledge of their flipped signing was rudimentary at best, but it was easy to figure out pecked words here and there when Blue Eyes really took his time to explain something. His elongated digits were rightfully arrogant, he was the child of Caesar by all means, but it never felt like it was intentional arrogance. It didn't yell at you ‘you’re just a stupid human, I am an Ape. Greater than you’.

It seemed faux to an extent, the way he acted around you at times. Recollection was a great thing as your spotted memory recalled moments of lax with Blue Eyes, especially when he was around Ash, River or Lake - His friends, the ones he grew up with. Jealousy has seated itself in the back of your throat now, pushing down your heart towards your stomach. How you… Wanted him to act like that with you, not like you were an adverse bug sitting on his shoulder than he just wanted to flick away.

Shaking that thought off before it tore down the rest of your afternoon, you nodded and twisted your body just enough to get more twine, already-pre cut by yours truly, a spearhead and another stick and began the repeated process. You told yourself five more, only an hour or so more and Blue Eyes would leave in silence just like he did when he beckoned you to help and you’d have to grin and bear it during dinner with the regular crowd of Apes as Blue Eyes chose to eat with his family, high above the rest.

That visual inside of your head gave you pause as you began wrapping the twine intricately into the hole of the wood, out the other side and established a good connection of the spearhead so you could begin tying it properly. He was… A Prince. Jokingly one day, you had given Caesar the name of ‘King of the Apes’, and while intended to just be funny, it took on life of its own once your words became a quick parallel to actual reality. There was no reason for him to like you, there was no reason for him to be here other than Caesar telling him he needed to be. A Prince bound by Duty of his King. You had caught a conversation between Blue Eyes and Koba only a week ago, talking about your presence there. And while Blue Eyes had not said anything explicit, the silence itself in that moment was deafening and it left you reeling at times like this when you were left to dwell with the idea that the Ape you were helping merely saw you as an inconvenience and he would kill you without remorse if you ever showed any sign towards being too human. Koba was already on his way to that, giving you a good stare on a day-to-day basis, followed by his eyes meeting Blue Eyes’ and then back to yours. Something deeply seeded it your senses at times like that; like they were working together and you were ultimately going to end up strung on a tree, dead and left to the sunrays to make delicious human jerky that the Colony could share--- Swallowing lightly, your hand trailed along the sharper edge of the spearhead and you felt it press into your skin, leaving a reddening imprint that began swelling. You tried to not think like that. If you were going to get killed, they’d have done it when you were weak and starved to death when you were first brought to the Colony. You told yourself that, over and over again to the point where it had to be your reality otherwise you were going to live in fear while they had provided you refuge. Blue Eyes’ shoulders moved with increased dexterity compared to your own as you fumbled a bit, dropping the spearhead between your legs and cursing as you went to grasp at it. 

You weren’t paying attention, blood hitting your eyes first before the actual sting set in, “Oh fu-” Not even able to get that out of your mouth, Blue Eyes was quicker to react like he was inside of your mind. Instead of you bringing your hand closer to your face to inspect the cut the spearhead had given you as you tried to grab it before it hit the ground, he had your wrist in his grasp. The coarse nature of his skin sent a rocketing complexion along your entire body. It felt like a shiver hit your spine like you were cold, but the heat along the bridge of your nose, upwards towards your ears, was quite a contradiction. “I’m okay, I just---” You had no excuse for clumsiness. The concept itself was foreign to Apes. They were built to be as sturdy as possible. Blue Eyes only stared at the cut on your hand for a moment, your fingers flexing inwards a bit to close your palm to stop him from looking at it, more than likely judging you for being so stupid with your reflexes and getting hurt in the process, something he had to have known really well considering the amounts of times during your stay at the Colony did you see Caesar doing that exact thing to him.

Swallowing back a hard ball that had formed in your throat at the hold he had on you, his fingers expanded and instead of holding your wrist, he was caressing the back of your hand and brought it closer to his azure stare. 

“Have…” Your eyes widened at the nature of the voice that came from Blue Eyes. “Never seen… Human…” You licked your lips in anticipation of the rest of his words, and it appeared he contemplated it for a moment before deciding on, “Bleed. Like Ape.” How much he sounded like Caesar, you thought to yourself, your mouth falling forward in mild surprise as you blinked, trying to bring yourself back into the moment and to stop drawing dumb comparisons of Blue Eyes towards his Father. He was his own Ape, he was allowed to make his own choices and opinions but still the thought persisted. You had never heard Blue Eyes mutter anything, let alone two complete and whole phrases. Ignorantly, you supposed that you lived in a fantasy world and never put much thought into it given many of the Apes chose to sign or make more brash and throaty noises to communicate.

Of course he was able to speak, you thought and mentally slapped your forehead as he continued his eyes along the small cut on your hand. Not wanting to pull him away from the moment as he was… Shocked it appeared at the notions that maybe Humans and Apes were more similar than he was really willing to give any credit to, you felt an equal brush of jolt at his voice as it replayed in your mind again. 

You wanted to hear him. Anything.

“You’ve…  never seen a human until you met me,” Only stating what you knew as an irrefutable fact, you hoped it was enough bait to get Blue Eyes to say something, his mouth ghosting words right in front of your eyes as a tease of what could be, like he was practicing what he wanted to vocalize before it was spoke, a tactic to assure you were able to understand his words, broken and scrambled, but words nonetheless. 

“We bleed. Probably more than you.” Letting your eyes flutter to the injury on his shoulder, scabbing over in some places but still rather red, you scaled your attention back to his face, looking at the mild cut on his cheek before sweeping from the wrinkles around his nose and under his eyes. While Caesar’s Son, he held no disposition to be intimidating. He was… Timid. Thoughtful, more like-minded it seemed to his Mother… “Did not hurt me.” Blue Eyes assured you knowing that you were looking at his scrapings, lifting his other hand upwards to place it against your open palm out of curiosity. Blood trickled onto the barest touch of his fingertips as you winced softly, sucking breath in through your teeth. “You… are hurt.” “It’s just a small cut,” It was your turn to assure the Ape through your chest felt like it was rattling on the inside, all your rib bones nothing more than crushed dust and your organs were solidified as you thought more about Blue Eyes actually speaking to you, actually taking time to accommodate you accordingly.

He had to have known that you were better with speech, having seen you converse intently with Caesar on occasions. “Happens a lot really…” You joked softly, letting your hand drift towards your body once Blue Eyes was kind enough to relinquish his hold on you. Flexing your fingers now out of desperation to have him hold you again, you cleared your throat. “I’m just gonna get a band-aid,” You hoped you had one in the scavenged first-aid kit you’d been holding onto for almost two years. “I’ll be right back okay?” “Band… aid?” 

“D-...” Your eyes drifted towards your lap, almost ashamed as you had forgotten such human things were so foreign to him. Even though you spoke words, did not mean that he understood them or what they meant to you. He did ask though, you were happy at that feeling a small satisfaction rolling along your collarbones like you were preening.

“It’s this thing… Like… A cloth sort of… Goes on cuts and stuff for Humans.” The perplexity on his face made you stifle a small giggle. “Do you… Wanna see?” You prayed now to the high Heavens that that first aid-kit was stocked properly. “I can-can show you.”

Without another word, there was nothing else needed to be spoken as Blue Eyes contemplated, weighing the situation before giving you a silent nod. Not stoic, as it usually was, and you were trying to tell yourself that there was no excitement but the way he walked next to you, both legs on the ground as he knew that galloping on all fours was too quick for you, it was hard to ignore that he was taking more languid steps to fall in line with you rather than lead you.

Shoulders equal to each other, you trailed your way towards the accommodating and cute hut that the Colony had built for you. Blue Eyes looked down at your hand once again, admiring the flush of red as it trickled down your fingertips and onto the ground, giving a trail behind the two of you as you walked side-by-side. Huh. A cloth of sorts that goes on cuts for Humans. Now this? He had to see.

[nausikaaa]

Six Sentence Sunday Monday

thanks for the tags @thewholelemon @forabeatofadrum @roomwithanopenfire and @run-for-chamo-miles!

i'm still tinkering away at my wip Andromache's Child, but right now I can't find any new lines i think are good enough to be shared. i had joked to some friends months ago that my goal was to get it to 69K by 2025, because it sounds funnier than 70K, and it's currently on 65K, so i'm on track!

i missed posting yesterday as i'm dealing with the aftermath of Storm Darragh. our hay shed got damaged and we fixed that in the middle of the storm, as we can't afford for the hay to get wet and rot. the gate to my goat pen also came off it's hinges, but so far we've only tied a wicket in it's place. the worst bit was that my little goat Olive's eye got hurt, we think a bit of debris might have gotten blown into it, but with a wipe clean and some eye drops, it looks like no lasting damage was done, which is a relief. i post about my goats over on instagram and have videos showing her eye and the broken gate.

so for now, here's some from my OC wip, which is at a much lower word count. i mostly work on this when i need some variation, tbh, but these characters are such a comfort to write, very inspired by different facets of myself. you can click the #my ocs tag for more of them.

this is from the POV of Roman, who is the reader-insert, new to the magical village where the story is set, fresh off losing his dad to cancer and his own series of injuries and revelations as he's discovered he has magic of his own, but his dad hid it from him as it cost his mother her life.

In the months after my dad's death, I would wake up every morning with a sense of emptiness, and a moment later, reality would crash down on top of me, and I would break down into tears. Eventually the crying stopped, but the empty feeling remained.

Now, I blink awake and feel peaceful. I remember where I am and how I got here, and of course the grief remains, but I swing my legs out of bed and tread to the kitchen with a sense of having grown around it.

I make a cup of tea in the early morning light, letting the silence wash over me before the day can begin as I stir in the milk and sugar.

My tranquil mindset is shattered when I take a sip and spit it out on instinct at the taste of sour milk.

i'm a day late, but take these tags as hellos: @cutestkilla @prettygoododds @bookish-bogwitch @ic3-que3n @blackberrysummerblog @j-nipper-95 @youarenevertooold @larkral @that-disabled-princess @orange-peony @aristocratic-otter @alexalexinii @confused-bi-queer @shrekgogurt @comesitintheclover @raenestee @hushed-chorus @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @noblecorgi @shemakesmeforget @ileadacharmedlife @supercutedinosaurs @artsyunderstudy @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @ninemagicks @otherworldsivelivedin @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @carryonmylovelies and @meanjeansjeans

[hawkeyeslaughter]

i think the thing i really do love and enjoy about henry probably most is that he genuinely tries to understand people . i think the obvious example is how he treats klinger , he doesn’t write him off or anything , he just simply understands the fact that ( at least early seasons klinger ) is simply doing what he can to get out on a section - eight . and he does the same thing with hawkeye , when hawkeye is upset ( sometimes you hear the bullet and sticky wicket , off the top of my head ) . he doesn’t get impatient or angry with hawk when he knows something is genuinely wrong , he talks to him to try to understand why hawkeye is acting like this . or in doctor pierce and mr hyde , when he literally asks trapper , “ why does he do these things , mcintyre ? “ he’s not asking just to ask , it’s genuine . why does he do it ? and you know it’s not just with people he likes . although he does love hawkeye and trapper and klinger and radar etc . etc , but he even does it with frank and margaret . even if it’s really obvious from his demeanor before frank and/or margaret even talk to him that he definitely won’t agree with whatever it is that they have to say , he still hears them out . i mean , yes , he has to , but there’s something else to it . he does what he can to talk frank off the ledge and actually find out and understand what it is that hawkeye and trapper did to upset him and if it’s really anything worth getting that worked up over . it’s a very little detail but it’s a very important one , i feel like .

[sunshine-and-her-ikevil-stuff]

18 days 'til Christmas - Prompt: Wrapping and Unwrapping

Made for Ikemen Advent, hosted by @candied-boys and @queengiuliettafirstlady.

Word count: 400

Crown & reader, reader is robin, Drabble, no editing

You smiled to yourself as you wrapped the last present in your room. You smoothed the paper over when you folded it. The silk was smooth in your hands as you wrapped it around and tied a bow. 

You took a second you admire it, before picking it up and hiding it with the rest.

There was a knock on your door.

“Hello. There’s some cookies out in the dining hall. I thought you might want to get some before they're all gone,” Ellis said from behind the door.

“Coming! Thank you!” You stood and rushed to the door.

-

On Christmas Eve you came to the large Christmas tree with all of your presents to give in hand. You carefully placed them down.

Harrison was taking another cookie off the plate and glanced over “When did you get time for all of this?

“Is there one for each of us?” Liam leaned closer.

You nodded. “Yep.”

Victor smiled. “Our robin has been asking me for help with gifts and I couldn’t be more overjoyed.”

Jude happened to be passing by and looked over. “Hah. Of course you'd get presents for all of these nuts. Lookin’ forward ta what ya got me.”

-

You did your best to hurry down on Christmas morning. You smiled when you saw everyone.

“Hey!”

“Hello. We had to keep some people from opening theirs early,” Roger said.

“Sorry. I'm just so excited. But I waited,” Liam said.

“Well, I'm here now.”

“Yes! Time to open your wicket presents,” Victor said.

You started 

Gently, you handed the gifts out and passed them around. A few looked through the pile and got theirs themself. An excitement buzzed through you to be able to give back to them. And you saw their faces lighting up as they received them.

After a moment a present was handed to you.

“Is this for me?”

“Yes,” William set down his wine and picked up a small, elegant present and handed it to you. “We all wanted to get our dear robin a gift. Happy Christmas.”

Your eyes lit up as you received gift after gift.

Elbert pointed to a very large pile of presents. “This is for you.”

Your eyes widened.

Alfons leaned in. “If were not for me, that pile would be twice as tall.” He handed you a box. “Happy Christmas. I suggest not opening it when anyone's around.” He smiled and walked off before you could say anything.

You felt so happy opening up each gift and feeling like you finally gave something back to all of Crown with your presents.

[greenerteacups]

Hello dear, first I want to say how happy I am that you are back and I am ecstatic that you are prioritizing your health first. You are a treasure to the fandom and I know I'm not the only one who would wait happily for decades to read even a scrap of your writing. I feel like I take up 20% of your inbox with my random questions but what is your hogwarts house? Do you think it changes as we age? I am of the opinion that we all have qualities from each house and it’s hard to define us to one.

Thank you, my friend! I wish the Tumblr search function wasn't fucked because I feel like I wrote a long essay about this some time ago, but basically, I think each House is a culture that shapes those who are Sorted into it, and that people are given a House that either challenges or reassures them in whatever way the Hat deems best for their development. For the kids with strong personalities, that means giving them somewhere they can meet other like-minded kids and develop their virtues together. For the kids who are still figuring themselves out, that means a place they can fit in and grow, or possibly somewhere that helps them find themselves, even if they don't fit in at first. That means House might not necessarily reflect one's personality, especially early-on, but that it will usually reflect something about you by the time you graduate.

My personal, un-evidenced, un-peer-reviewed, blind-speculation conspiracy theory is that the Hogwarts Houses were never meant to be as significant or divisive as they came to be by 1991. I think they would have started out as literal dormitories stewarded by the respective founders, for ease of labor distribution — "houses" being the usual way you divide space in British boarding school — and not much more than that. I don't even know if I buy that Gryffindors would have been sorted because they were per se brave, originally. Like, the whole story of them going "how do we chop up this batch of kids into four parts?" and Gryffindor going "I've got it! my hat will decide!" is, in my opinion, a pretty solid metaphor for pulling names out of a literal hat, which you could back when you only had a few students in any given year. The Sorting Hat, in this view, would be an invention created later on to make the process easier in large numbers, and to give the impression of order in the Sorting process. 

[Sidebar: I've always been eager to know where the Sorting Hat comes from, and what kind of enchantments are on it. The answer that we get in the books is that the Founders made it, but in no other part of the series is there any other kind of magic that has the ability to fully read a human mind and make sentient deductions based on its findings. (I'm reminded of the iconic Arthur Weasley line: "Never trust something if you can't see where it keeps its brain.") Maybe that's just early installment weirdness; maybe it's just magic, and I shouldn't think too hard about it. But if I were the author, I would want readers to pick up on how obviously and chillingly well Arthur's line applies to the object that is responsible for a vast majority of things that happen to Harry after Chapter 7 of The Sorcerer's Stone. End sidebar.]

This raises the question of how the Houses became associated with characteristics in the first place, if the first cohorts were really random selection. I think it's more that the first batches of students in Gryffindor's house naturally followed and emulated him as a model, and over the years, that developed into Gryffindor having a culture of bravery/recklessness, after Godric himself. Same with Ravenclaw and Slytherin — though there's a sticky wicket in that Slytherin seems to be on record from Day 1 as being against muggle-born students in his hosue. The line "We teach those whose ancestry is purest" comes from the Hat's song — but like, that couldn't have possibly been an original stipulation for Slytherin house, right? Because they were having disagreements about whether to admit muggle-borns well after the school was opened, implying that either there weren't really enough muggle-borns for that to be an issue beforehand, or that Slytherin tolerated it up to a point, reached his limit, went "well, I'M not fucking teaching them," and banned them from his house in a pissy gesture of so-there-ism. If that's the case, it could be that the blood ban was the first institutional requirement to be admitted to a certain house. (There's still an open question of whether there are any, or have ever been, muggle-born Slytherins. If I'm an administrator, I see absolutely no reason to respect some asshole's wishes to have a literal Blood Segregation House after he's resigned and/or died; but that's also assuming a progressivism that we can't fairly assign to wizarding administrators from the 1600s, say). There's Rowling ephemera about all of this, but in my view, the books are inconclusive.

Hufflepuff makes even more sense in this light, because then you don't have to wrestle out the inconsistent characterizations it gets in the series — is their House virtue "loyal?" or "hardworking"? or "determined"? or "free-spirited"? — and don't have to square Helga Hufflepuff going "I'll take the rest" in the Hat's song, because then it's just like: oh, yeah, Helga was a really easygoing lady, she didn't cultivate a cult of personality among her students, and that means Hufflepuff House never developed a really clear identity based on her profile. Things like the House Cup, the point system, the quidditch teams, and the various reputations/rivalries (like Slytherin being the "Dark wizard" house in some circles) are all traditions that could have developed over the centuries.

None of this is necessarily supported by canon. I just think that it would be a neat way to explain some facets of the Sorting Hat and the House system without having to resort to "because it's magic" as an answer.

[bylerismyeverything]

My predictions:

Season 4 - Francesca

Season 5 - Eloise

Season 6 - Benedict

Season 7 - Gregory

Season 8 - Hyacinth

Here are some explanations:

Yes I know hyacinth is before Gregory in the books but if there won’t be a time jump she’ll be 15 in season 7 and I don’t think she can be out in society that early as Pen and Edwina came out to society at 17 and Eloise and Francesca who delayed their coming out came out to society at 18.

Eloise’s ball went through the 5th wicket not once but twice (idk don’t ask me how).

I don’t feel like Benedict is ready to find Sophie or whoever it’d be right now and it’s not like Colin didn’t actually intend to find a wife and then found Pen but I don’t actually think he’s ready after the way he rejected Tilley, he definitely needs to explore his sexuality and freedom a bit first, and there definitely is some long awaited art storyline we’ve yet to experience.

They already introduced us to Michaela and showed us Fran’s reaction to her and I don’t think they’re gonna make us wait long before their story.

[klaramarieleblochova]

Let's go back to season 2 for a moment and review the famous Pall Mall scene full of easter eggs once again, because I think it says who's turn it is in season 4.

I think it's Francesca, then Eloise and then Benedict as season 6.

I hope I'm wrong tho, because I'm not happy about it.

We can only speculate who makes it through the first wicket, because it's never shown on camera, although it seems like it was Daphne.

Kate gets her ball through wicket number two - as a season 2 lead.

Benedict missed the third wicket, which gave Colin a chance to get his ball through - foreshadowing Benedict is to be skipped and it's Colin's turn.

Eloise hits wicket number five.

But we never see any Bridgerton getting their ball through the fourth wicket, it's Kate who gets it through. There is, in fact a direct shot of her leaving the screen and the camera shifting to Colin and Benedict behind her. But Benedict never makes it through any of the wickets on camera. And Francesca is not present in this game.

Jess Brownell was talking about Benedict being delayed and she clearly mentioned that "fans should be happy about that, because he's a fan favorite and this means he gets to stick around for longer", which to me is prepping for the anger that is about to come when he's about to be skipped again. Also, the fact his story line this season is so dull and nothing like getting the ground ready for him (like Anthony in season 1 or Colin in season 2) is speaking volumes..

It might be early for this presumption, because episodes 7&8 are yet to be seen, since they're keeping it secret, because Brownell shared it's obvious from the last two episodes who's the next season leader and there's to be an announcement of the next story pretty much right after season 3 airs.. but that's just my POV.

[justcallmefox89]

Gnome Troubles - Chapter Five (Astarion's POV)

Gale gives Astarion something to think about.

There’s something wrong with the gnome.  Astarion has suspected it since that night Wicket offered him blood, and after a tenday of traveling together he’s near certain of it.  Wicket barely sleeps, and when he does he wakes screaming.  The others pretend to not notice the wretched, soul-clenching cries and ignore the hoarseness of his voice in the mornings.  Astarion’s flesh crawls when the screams begin, reminding him of the year he spent entombed at Cazador’s orders.  He cannot imagine what terrors come to torment Wicket in his dreams, and at such moments he feels the barest flash of sympathy for the gnome. 

Wicket’s nighttime habits aren’t the only thing that trouble the vampire.  Astarion isn’t one to begrudge a person their love for fine wines, but Wicket indulges in drink far too often, as if he’s searching for oblivion.  And at times he clutches at his chest as if he’s in great pain.  Astarion would almost swear he’s seen the faintest glow beneath Wicket’s camp shirt, as if there’s something illuminating him from the inside.

Maybe all cleric are just indescribably odd.

Shadowheart is no less strange than the gnome, also choosing to remain aloof and enigmatic, only revealing bits of her past when she’s forced too.  Astarion shakes his head.

No… there is something very, very wrong with Wicket.

Attempting to push the troubling thoughts away, the elf closes his eyes and tilts his face up, allowing the rays from the early morning sun to warm his face.  The rustling of cloth announces another’s presence, and from the creaking of their joints as they sit down next to him Astarion is able to tell that it’s Gale. 

“You seem introspective this morning,” he murmurs, settling his robes about him.

“Just thinking, darling,” Astarion murmurs without opening his eyes.  “Considering all that’s happened to our little group recently.”

“Is there something in particular on your mind?  Or someone, to be more precise?”

The vampire cracks open one eyes and glances over at Gale.  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, my dear.”

Gale shrugs nonchalantly.  “It’s hard not to notice how considerate a certain cleric has been towards your particular needs.”

Astarion remains obstinately silent.  Undeniably… in his own coarse, obnoxiously high-handed way, Wicket has taken rather decent care of him.  Making sure he’s fed adequately each day, tending to his wounds with efficient, thorough care while implicitly making sure his hands don’t linger longer than strictly necessary… Astarion can grudgingly admit that Wicket has treated him with more care than he probably deserves, considering his attitude towards the other man.  But for purely practical reasons, he’s sure.  It wouldn’t do to think any differently.

“If this is your poor attempt to convince me that Wicket’s actions are merely altruistic, I will have to insist otherwise,” Astarion protests irritably.

“Kelemvor’s necrobanes are notoriously devoted to their oath,” Gale muses, stroking his beard thoughtfully.  “To have one not only deny his holy mission, but aid in the survival of the very thing he’s sworn to destroy… it makes one wonder what could cause him to defy his god.”

“Given our rather unique circumstances I am of more use to him alive than dead.  That is all.”

Gale arches one eyebrow skeptically.

 “I’ve lived long enough to know that altruism is a farce,” Astarion replies sharply.  “Whatever Wicket has done for me he will expect repayment, I’m sure.  They always do.”

“I think you may be doing him a disservice,” the wizard murmurs. 

Astarion mimics Gale’s earlier shrug, feigning disinterest in his companion’s opinion.  But some infinitesimally small part of him, a bit of him so heavily guarded and locked away he’d nearly forgotten about it, dares to hope that Gale is right.

[thebreakfastgenie]

Alright Frank Burns manifesto. I think by the end of his run Frank is written as cartoonishly incompetent, but that's something that was exaggerated over the years to the detriment of the character and the show. The fact is, most of Frank's patients survive, and he doesn't seem to lose any more than anybody else. This is partly because sometimes another doctor like Trapper or BJ takes over, but that's obviously not happening most of them time. Henry describes him as "good" and "fair," and once says "he's a good doctor and we need him" to Hawkeye, who does not dispute it. I think early on, Frank's incompetence was exaggerated both in-universe and by the structure of the show, similar to Radar's apparent psychic abilities.

I think the reality of Frank is that he's competent at the routine work he does back home. His technique is probably not as sophisticated, something that would be very apparent to a highly skilled surgeon like Hawkeye, but not apparent to someone who did not work in the field. It's not possible for every surgeon to be the top surgeon and from a patient's perspective, for the routine work, Frank is probably fine. What he's not good at is thinking on his feet. Henry says Hawkeye is a better doctor "when the heat's on." Frank panics under pressure and is ill-suited to work in a MASH; Hawkeye, by contrast, is great in a crisis, which makes him very good at working in a MASH and is why he's chief surgeon.

What Frank is really bad at is the rest of the job, and notably that's what the bulk of Hawkeye's dressing down in Sticky Wicket is about. Frank doesn't take correction or criticism well, he doesn't acknowledge when he makes mistakes or take responsibility, he's not a team player, he has a bad attitude and a terrible bedside manner, he's self-serving and self-centered, he treats his colleagues badly. These are all important to the job; many people in the field would argue they're just as important as medical skills. So in that sense, Frank is a bad doctor. But I think somewhere along the line the show lost the nuance and as a result fans did too.

[beardedmrbean]

Q “How do you tell if someone is a vegan?” 

A: “You don’t have to, they’ll tell you.” 

Maybe it’s jokes like that, highlighting society’s stereotypical view of vegans as arrogant virtue-signallers, that have led to a slump in demand for some plant-based alternatives to meat and dairy, as well as a slew of business failures among manufacturers of plant-based food – most recently Heather Mills’s company VBites, which has just announced it is going into administration. 

Despite veganism being endorsed by a number of celebrities, such as the BBC’s controversial wildlife presenter Chris Packham, it doesn’t seem to have made much headway beyond those segments of the market that are either apocalyptic about climate change or fanatical about animal rights – or both. Perhaps much like Mr Packham himself. 

Then there’s the argument that veganism is good for your health, which has been on an increasingly sticky wicket, deconstructed by books such as the award-winning The Great Plant Based Con by Jayne Buxton. There is also a growing backlash against ultra-processed foods, which many vegan products are. 

But Ms Mills had the gall to blame “gaslighting” by the meat industry for the collapse of her vegan food empire. As a member of the meat “industry”, I take exception to that. Of course it is not really an industry at all in the UK – it is made up of family farms, in stark contrast to the public relations agencies promoting vegan diets. 

Farmers have been hounded and smeared by radical vegan activists for years. I wrote in these pages back in September about Laura Corbett, the Gourmet Goat Farmer, who was targeted by vegan “activists” on social media. Her business was attacked by malicious Trip Advisor reviews. 

Indeed, I would suggest that consumers have been put off by the taint of fanaticism surrounding vegan foods. Recent research has shown that omnivorous consumers are less likely to buy products if they are labelled with the V-word. While it is too early to consign veganism to the history books, I suspect when that history is written it will be seen as a fad that was rejected by the British public largely because the wild behaviour of its more extreme followers trashed the brand. 

It always seemed unlikely that, after millennia evolving on an omnivorous meat-rich diet, we would then wholly abandon it. There is only one species that has ever done that: the panda. And that has not been an unqualified success. 

If the vegans had wanted to actually persuade people to eat better, rather than hector them, they could have chosen a much less blunt message. But a more effective, nuanced approach, focused on stopping the harmful aspects of meat and dairy production, was not pursued and all livestock farmers were tarred with the same brush. This happened even after the positive environmental role of grass-based beef farmers was recognised by the authorities, as they began to be paid carbon credits for the net carbon they sequester.

We can’t allow vegans to continue to ruin the debate about food. We need a real food counter-revolution. 

[avinwrites]

CAN YOU DO GANJI X GN!READER MODERN HIGHSCHOOL HEAD CANNONS?? YOU CAN ADD MORE CHARACTERS TOO IF YOU WANT!!

Ganji x reader || Highschool AU Headcannons

-Ganji is both introverted and extroverted. When he’s in class, he’ll stay relatively quiet, answering or asking questions on the off occasion, but mostly just paying silent attention. He has to force himself to focus more than most people, he has trouble sitting still. However, when he’s on the field, he’s like a whole different person. His true self shines through when he plays cricket. Even though he has a serious, almost grim, look on his face when he’s playing, he genuinely enjoys himself. It's easy to catch him smiling each time he runs between the wickets. 

-He never really considered a relationship before, having to focus too much on practice or on school work. You would most likely start talking to him after being paired up for a group project. He’d be… eager to get it done as soon as possible. It’s not that he doesn’t like you, he’s just an introvert and also doesn’t like projects. If you’re even a little patient with him and take both conversation slow and show interest in him/his interests, he’d open up to you pretty quickly.

-Ganji is the type to go from strangers to friends to close friends to lovers, instead of just strangers to dating to lovers. Once you get to know him, and he gets to know you, he’ll be quick to become friends. It isn’t difficult to tell what he likes and dislikes early on, he’s big on open communication, and he doesn’t exactly hide his emotions. His sentiment towards you grows each time you notice that he feels a particular way and talk to him about it.

-Melts when you do something as simple as ask him if he is ok when he looks particularly grumpy, or inquire as to what has him so excited if he seems to be livelier than usual. He does do the same, part of how you two got so close is just by talking to each other so much that you practically know what each slump of the shoulders or every slight sigh means. People think you’re dating way before you actually make it official just from how well you know each other.

-Speaking of the public, it’s difficult not to be a bit of the center of attention, at least, when it comes to the other Cricket players. They worry that because their star batsmen is thinking about someone constantly, that he’ll become distracted, but you actually have the opposite effect. If he sees you out in the stands, cheering him on, even just in practice, his energy increases tenfold. He’ll make sure he does his best just for you. The others start referring to you as the team’s ‘good luck charm,’ since, if Ganji is doing good, it benefits the whole team, and if you make his performance improve, then they’ll want you at every game. So expect to be friends with his teammates too, but not as close as you are to Ganji.

-If you do make it a habit to attend his games, he’ll expect affections in return for his performance. “We won the game, shouldn’t I get a congratulatory kiss?” He’ll tease, hugging you close in excitement. On the other hand, if he happens to lose (not likely, by his words) then console him with little displays of affection and sweet words, it will absolutely make him feel better. He makes it a habit as well to take you out for ice cream, or your favorite treat, after a game, just because he feels like it.

-Then, once you have to split ways and go home, he’ll leave you with a lingering hug, one that makes you all the more ready to see him again. Though, you’ll call often outside of school. He prefers to talk to you face to face, but if you’re both busy, sometimes just having you there with him virtually, even when not talking, is nice to him. 

-When at school, it's clear that you are friends with him, but PDA isn’t something he particularly enjoys, he’s rather save the more close and intimate moments for complete privacy. You’ll definitely start sitting together at lunch, and if there’s ever any more partnered projects in whatever classes you may have with him, he’ll partner with you every time. But, most of your time together is spent outside of school. Usually at one of your houses, or at a park, just, enjoying each other's presence.

-You may have to help him study. He will ask you, and be sad but accepting if you say no, but he feels like you help him understand things better, plus, you’re patient with him. Study dates in a library happen often. It’s mostly just before finals, where you both will help each other prepare for tests. He’ll bring two large drinks for the both of you, and just sit down and get it done. He finds your encouragement to be more motivating than anything else. If he seems to be getting overwhelmed, just… carefully lift his face so that he isn’t staring at whatever paper he’s trying to get information from and press a simple peck to the tip of his nose and say: “let's take a break for a minute.” 

-After a short break, maybe you show him something funny on your phone, or you just let him rest his eyes for five minutes on your shoulder, he’ll feel rejuvenated just being around you, going back to his attempt on the practice test he’s taking. He’ll encourage you to stop procrastinating as well. 

-All in all, it's a very chill and sweet relationship. While you’re both young and experiencing life, he’s a great partner to experience life with.

TYSM for this request! I love highschool/college aus!! I hope that this is to your liking!! (*^▽^*)