#he's still a bit of a challenge to draw. he's all tubes

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i would just liketo say i love the way you draw frank hes so sily

Thank You!

[mouwrites]

Ninjago - Their Favorite Places to Kiss You

Nya

Hands!!

She loves how convenient it is, particularly when you’re already holding hands

Like, you guys will just be chilling or walking along, and she’ll quickly bring your hand to her lips and give it a quick kiss before lowering it again

If you glance over at her after, you’ll see a contented smile on her face

That smile will be complimented with a subtle blush if you kiss her hand back

Though those casual kisses are her favorite, she also likes more intimate ones

I can see her gently rubbing her thumb over your knuckles while she brings your hand to her lips, kissing each joint and knuckle slowly and deliberately

If she’s feeling extra mushy she’ll move on to your face, peppering it with kisses as well

Her kisses are sooo soft man,,, you already know she uses the nicest smelling chapstick

AND the prettiest lipstick

You’ll get little colored marks if she’s applied it recently, which she always giggles at

Jay

Shoulders/neck!

It’s the warmth of your skin that draws him in

He likes to just rest his chin on you, taking in your warmth

Then he’ll give you a kiss right on your shoulder, prolonging the contact as long as possible

He just loves the feeling of that soft warmth on his face

And he’ll breathe in your scent, humming dreamily with a deep inhale

He’ll be slow with his kisses, with long gaps between them

He slowly follows your collarbone up to your neck

He’ll rest his cheek against your neck, feeling your pulse against his cheekbone

He reserves these moments for when you’re alone, of course

Bro might be clingy but he does have some dignity

In public the most he’ll do is lean down to give your shoulder a quick kiss from behind, usually when he thinks no one is looking

Just a quick hit of that addictively soft warmth

(And I am so sorry but there is only about a 40% chance that his lips aren’t going to be chapped, he does NOT know what chapstick is)

Cole

Top of your head :)

I headcanon him to be super tall, so it’s pretty easy for him to reach the top of your head

Even if you are taller than him though, he still loves nothing more than to plant a kiss up there

It makes him feel protective over you :)

He especially loves to do this when you’re cuddling; you’ll be laying on him with your head on his chest and he’ll just crane his neck a bit to kiss you

He likes how noninvasive it is; if you’re sleeping, he can do it without waking you, and if you’re just chilling, he can do it without bothering you

Sometimes he’ll even just kiss you as he walks by, stooping down for a half second and walking away like nothing happened

If you have hair, he’ll pretend he got it stuck on his lips when he’s feeling silly

He’ll just start going “pteh! Ppphhh!!!” after smooching you

It makes you both laugh every time :)

If you’re bald he’ll pat your head so it makes a smacking noise while he kisses you

He just goes “smack and smack” (“smack” as in hit and “smack” as in kiss)

He has one tube of chapstick that’s lived in his pocket for literal years; he only uses it when he remembers it exists (which is kinda rare)

But our boy stays hydrated, so dw about his lips ever being chapped 💪

Kai

Ya mouth

It’s very intimate, which he likes :)

He’ll wrap his arms around you while he kisses you, holding you close to deepen the kiss

But he also likes quick little pecks that hardly last a second

He uses those as casual greetings/goodbyes

He saves the more passionate kisses for more meaningful occasions

Like if you’ve been apart for a long time or it’s a holiday or a sweet moment

He has so many tubes of chapstick

Ever since he started dating you he got self-conscious about having chapped lips, so he ALWAYS has to have at least one with him at all times

If he forgets, he just buys another (hence the ridiculous amount he owns)

And when he gets a new one, he likes to see if you can guess the flavor ;)

Like the chapstick challenge from like 2017 (I am so sorry but I don’t know the exact year 😭)

And he can always tell when you’re trying a new chapstick

He knows all your chapsticks by heart

Zane

Forehead!

To him it’s like he’s kissing your mind, which he loves

He thinks you’re brilliant <3

And he knows that the personality is mainly sourced in the brain

So, to him, he’s kissing the your essence

It’s very meaningful

But it’s also just more convenient; he’s also super tall

And it’s less awkward

He’s a little shy when it comes to physical affection, but a forehead kiss is just casual enough for him :)

When he is feeling especially touchy, though, he’ll put a hand on the back of your head and hold your head against his shoulder after he kisses you

His lips are literally never chapped

But sometimes he puts on chapstick anyway, just to be safe

It’s always just plain; no flavors for him

But sometimes he asks to try out your flavored chapstick (indirect kiss!??!! 🤯)

Lloyd

Eyelids!

He kisses you so gently

He’ll hold your face still with his hands, slowly drawing you closer to ensure that he hits the mark

He’d hate to screw it up; he knows that eyes are not exactly resistant to pressure

So, even though it makes him a little nervous, he’ll always take the time to kiss you softly right on your eyelids

Maybe it’s the necessary softness that makes it so special for him

I think that sometimes he’s a little afraid of his own power, so being gentle like that is therapeutic for him

He feels like it’s proving to you (and himself) that he can be gentle when he wants

He strictly uses those chapsticks that are supposed to be flavored like candy/soda

But only the ones that are ACTUALLY sweet

Good stuff only

It motivates him to use them more often, so his lips are always soft :)

And they smell nice too

Thanks so much for reading!! Just wanted an excuse to make more nya content to make something a little more chill today :] Take care my lovely duckies <33

(divider by saradika)

[asherlockstudy]

Why is purple Rhett's new favourite colour?

Wonderhole E5

To be honest I am not big on writing this post because all I want to say is "it's gay. that's the post. bye" but this would not be fair or totally accurate for this wonderful and well thought out episode.

Rhett and Link are painted red and blue and get isolated in respective tiny rooms, in some type of GMM-like experiment. They are guided through the experiment by what seems to be a sinister twist on Stevie. The point of the experiment is to check whether this colour theory of association to emotions can be proven real. There is this expectation that after a while in these colours Rhett and Link should start behaving in a certain way.

The food cube segment seems to allude to weird taste tests and competitive games in GMM. Rhett is more reactive and compentitive while Link is more stoic and relaxed, as expected. Of couse, before that we were graced with another imagery of them drinking from tubes.

!!!ALERT!!!

PUZZLE VIDEO REFERENCE!!!

We had seen another one in the Brown Diamond!!!

Rhett and Link already express that they feel irritable and antsy and lethargic and pensive repsectively. This could be commentary on their real selves, as we know that Rhett can panic and get reactive in the face of hardship while Link has said on many occasions that he likes to nap away his problems. Things got worse when they listened to comments that resemble quite a bit some of the real life negative comments they get.

Another interpretation could be that this is a message that they comply to what is expected of them.

You know, the title of the fairytale evil!Stevie is reading them, Ferdinand the Fox, is a play on the children's tale "Ferdinand the Bull" and... I have a lot of thoughts...

Ferdinand is a young calf who, unlike all other calves playing fighting and acting tough and strong, he prefers to calmly smell flowers. His mother worries because he is different than the other calves but ultimately is understanding to him. Ferdinand grows up and he becomes an unusually large bull. Yet he is not aggressive and tough at all, he still prefers to sit at peace and smell flowers. One day Spanish bull fighters come to the farms to select the next bull for the bullfights. Ferdinand knows he would never be chosen and sniffs flowers calmly, only accidentally he steps on a bee and the bee stings him. Ferdinand starts running, mooing and heaving due to the pain. Impressed, the bullfighters take him for a challenging wild bull and take him with them. In the bullfighting arena, Ferdinand is entirely distracted by flower bouquets and ladies' garments adorned with flowers and refuses to fight. The bullfighters are filled with shame at his expense and return him back to his pasture. Unbothered, Ferdinand continues his flowery life in peace.

So... that is an interesting starting story to draw from, isn't it?

However, Ferdinand the Fox is quite the different character from Ferdinand the Bull. Let's take a look to the Wonderhole fairytale because this one is very interesting as well.

We have a land of many furry animals (Mythical Beasts) whose favourite songs are Fo-Rest and Trees (Rhett and Link). They chant these songs daily (daily content) and the magic fountain fills with the purest, sweetest water (the - monetized yet authentic - creativity produced by the chemistry / collaboration / bond of Rhett and Link). A fox called Ferdinand however crafts a plumbing system that routes all the water to his own place, so he enjoys all the water while the other animals are dehydrated and sing in vain (Rhett and Link's creativity is drained and channeled to a single format / style of content, perhaps due to somebody's or some people's responsibility, to the dismay of their loyal fans). Eventually the animals stop chanting their favourite songs (Rhett and Link lose popularity / viewership), however this is not beneficial for Ferdinand either because the fountain needs sound in order to produce water (money). But he knows singing Forest and Trees is not necessary for this (Rhett and Link's authenticity and artistry are not truly necessary to make money). So he goes to the other animals and starts spreading gossip, negativity, toxicity which creates unrest amongst the animals but, if nothing else, the fountain makes water again (uninspired, basic content with toxic, negative fan community). A mole named Marvin - another occurence of a mole, most notable was the mole who was supportive of Rhett and Link's hole digging - digs deep enough that he discovers what is going on. He comes to the surface and tells the other animals the truth. However, Ferdinand manages to turn the animal community against him by questioning his claims and even blaming him for the water drainage. Ferdinand wins (as Rhett and Link's videos usually have bad endings).

Who was the recurring mole? The old fans? Someone in particular? Someone in their immediate social or workplace circle? Someone who rallies for Rhett and Link's creativity / authenticity / sincerity but their efforts are met with too many obstacles? And who is Ferdinand? Is it some certain person with power in Rhett and Link's business? Is it the toxic, conservative or overly particular part of the fandom that wants only one type of content? I cannot tell what these characters exactly stand for but I feel the story told here is pretty much along those lines.

Rhett says how "we the animals" would want a revolution (a drastic change in how Rhett and Link present themselves and express their creativity?). Link comments how he feels sorry for the dehydrated animals (long standing fans?) and just before the crescendo of this video, he reflects how the animals (fans) should have listened to the mole (truth teller?, shippers?, old fans?, real life ally?).

And then we have this scene which was kind of agonizing, especially when you think there is a symbolism in it, which it obviously has a symbolism in it:

Like a literal wake up call, we are blasted with the image of Rhett and Link cuddling in their sleep. They also make sure to show that they must have "mingled" enough during their sleep that their bedspreads are messed and each has ended up on the other's bed and they are towards the opposite direction than the one they had in the beginning. In short, they have "cuddled" long and hard.

It's not just about that though. Rhett and Link are still being watched throughout in this context and, if anything, it seems things are going according to evil!Stevie's plan or expectations for the experiment. She removed the wall between them, waiting to see whether it would led the experiment to this and it DID lead the experiment to this. So there is an element of manipulation of which Rhett and Link seem to be the victims, either because they are driven to this or because they are watched while inevitably this happens. It sort of reminds me again Rhett's passive aggresive "Perhaps you are right after all" to the shippers last year.

When they wake up, they act like they have no memory of what happened (that level of twist and turn with another person in bed requires you to be at least semi-awake) and they deny having any will in this, particularly Rhett. In fact, Rhett accuses Link of "blueing him in his sleep" (wow) and slaps him. Then we get ANOTHER Puzzle Video reference!

Which is not surprising at all... remember what Link does in the Puzzle video ;)

A lot of denial, in short. The incident has made the tensions go up high. Rhett and Link start fighting each other in an ingenious fight sequence, wonderfully shot, directed and acted. With their fight, Rhett keeps redding Link and Link keeps blueing Rhett more and more, bit by bit. Eventually they challenge each other to "surrender". This goes on for a while until Rhett promises he will surrender, only if Link does as well. Then there is another round of "surrendering first" challenge until they proclaim to surrender, only to tighten their grips on each other extremely. The tension rises uncontainably and they eventually explode, creating purple in the process. Their purpling provokes another food reward by evil!Stevie. And here is what "purpling" means in Evangelical context, as explained by @unforgivablengk .

Based on this video, the tension and subsequent explosion can mean one of these three things:

Rhett and Link try desperately to resist the inevitable, all while challenging each other to make the first move to surrender. It reminds me of the peanut butter argument in the Flight Simulation, where they fight over who will take the first scoop. This only builds up the tension and they eventually "explode".

Rhett and Link are on different pages regarding being upfront and honest with their audiences and they both stick-in-the-mud forcing each other to surrender to the other's opinion. They are so stubborn in their own opinions that they neutralise and dissolve themselves in the process.

Maybe it's only artistic / work commentary, showing how they are different personalities who have different creative visions but their tension and the rubbing off of each other creates their trademark "purple" identity. I mostly saw this being the interpretation of many others on youtube. However, it does not explain why it needed physically touching heavily in bed to convey that message and also Rhett and Link have never claimed their artistic visions are different or that their personalities are opposite when it comes to the artistic vision.

But here it's time to remind you all that Rhett has only since the previous year started expressing his love for the colour purple (there was also the Lucy Lavender chicken in the Road Crossing Chicken video) but it has not always been his favourite colour. For the longest time, Rhett was not that decided on having a favourite colour but whenever asked, he would say that his preferred colour was grey. For ages. Then for a short while he also appreciated green, after his own eyecolour (lol). But suddenly, since a year or so, he is so big on the colour purple like he was never before with any other colour. This is a slightly sudden change. I believe he has associated purple with some particular symbolism in his mind...

*The evil!Stevie is voiced by Katey Sagal, the voice of the Smart House and also the purple haired, one-eyed Turanga Leela, the Captain of the Planet Express Delivery Ship in Futurama.

One Story Rhink Masterlist here

[panzerkatzee]

Good day ya'll!

Its 11:30 and I just completed a small research session on fillipino martial arts and taking extensive notes on how my characters might move in the upcoming combat scenes. Funny enough, I always thought my larp experience would help in writing combat realistically… but oh boy… I WAS SO WRONG… its embarassing.

I am still no real expert, but maybe I can find someone to help with those scenes in particular down the line. For now I did watch some videos and read some instructions online and feel confident to get into the fight scene, I've been hyped for yesterday… but first… warm up time!!

by Electrum Photography

Then and again, he would get a flicker of red eyes, burning brightly with flashes of inert blood magic, his friend no doubt struggling to hold it back, hating crowds as it was. Dan… you are getting an ear full, for dragging her out here, he thought ruefully and picked up his pacing again. A few moments later, she stumbled free from the bodies swaying and squirming with the thrumming beats. "going to try smth new, winky face", had been the last text he received from her before getting on the tube and hot damn… she had. Only her hair was reminiscent of the timid mage, kept straight and falling down onto her shoulders, bangs freshly trimmed to end in a straight line above her brows. To cover her chest Lucille wore only a black pleather bra, the burning church tattooed across he abdomen, was on full display, showing its bell-tower ablaze, right between her breasts. She had paired it off with nothing more than a pair of latex gloves and a matching skirt, making Dan sweat just by looking at it. Clashing with the entire get up, the mad woman had forgone the use of shoes completely.

Not my best work… but after spending so much time on researching, I am a bit anxious to get writing. There is still some catching up with the long-term goal to do… soooo snaps fingers LET'S DO IT!

Okaaay… five hours later… didn't hit the word count… yet. But I am due for a food break, having ordered poké bowl from my fav restaurant.

I really underestimated how far fight scenes were out of my comfortzone… usually I am more for the whole emotional stuff… but as I am writing sci-fi about ppl doing sneaky shit and pissing off powerful other ppl, I don't think I will get away without it…

In the end… I went against the plan I had, and reshuffled my entire story a little bit.. soooo.. that just might turn into something interesting… who knows…

As of now I am at ~1400 words, so very close… aaaand the next scene coming up, will be snugly inside my comfort zone again, hence I am no tooo worried, I won't hit my mark for the day.This wraps up Chapter IV nice and neat~

I do a lot better at starting a chapter than ending it sooo...

But.. to learn from this, I will probably alter the daily warm up challenge a bit… by changing it to stuff I am not quite good at yet..

Maybe a paragraph of a battle scene or dialogue each day? Something like this.

As it stands now, I will wait for my food and write a bit more afterwards…

For now, lets continue with the Playlist, shall we?

Today's song: Faunts - M4 Pt.2

Why is this on my playlist? Those among you with an excellent taste in Video Games, might already know this one. If not by name, then from the Mass Effect I credits, as it is from the Game's OST. To be honest, it doesn't align at all with what I usually listen to, but then that's mostly everything that leads to the release of dopamine in my brain… so I can't claim any consistency there. Being a huuuuge fan of the Mass Effect Trilogy… and my alien waifu Garrus, connecting a very peaceful time in my life with these games… an age of innocence so to speak.. I have feelings about the song as well…

The lyrics just resonate with me… and I kinda always come back to it, when I have a hard time. Its not cheerful or anything.. but it holds this deepfelt wish for someone to heal… and struggling with mental illness, I just need it.

As my novel draws a lot from my personal experiences and how I see the world, this fits the story's playlist quite well… and its Mass Effect related… sooo doubly perfect~

Sooooo I will go wait for food now and play some Mahjong or whatever :D Have a lovely day~

[webbedphantom]

He couldn't help the mystified look on his mask as he listened in, lenses wide in excitement at the sheer concept of that.

"Okay... that is definitely cool. Especially the transforming ship part. I can't even imagine what it would take to recreate that effect with technology."

Though the way he'd phrased getting in there raised a significant question, one he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to.

"You said you got sent there by accident, and that the portals all take you to random worlds. Does... does that mean you haven't been able to get home?"

If that was the case, he couldn't even begin to imagine how much that would hurt. His friends were everything to him, and that went triple for Makoto, so the idea of being whisked off to somewhere with no way back, no idea if he'd ever see them again, or at least... his versions of them again... it'd rip him apart.

Still, the other's compliments thankfully managed to distract him from that terrifying thought. He couldn't help but shyly rub the back of his neck at his words. He still wasn't used to getting praised like this-

"Well, it wasn't ALL me. A lot of the Metaverse stuff was worked through by Futaba and Sophia, with some additional insight from Lavenza, Mona, and Arséne. As for the tech... I don't really know how to explain it-" He admitted with an awkward chuckle.

"I've just... always had a knack for this kinda stuff. I've been taking stuff apart and putting them back together for as long as I can remember. And with my third eye, I can reverse engineer an advanced piece of equipment just by looking at it for long enough. So even the Multiversal travel part was pretty simple after I got a good look at something similar."

He couldn't help but beam with pride at his counterpart. They were definitely a lot alike, especially in this aspect.

"Hey, that's still pretty impressive! Honestly, sounds like a pretty fun challenge to me."

"I sadly don't have anything as cool as the watch, at least nothing that's finished yet. But I definitely have a couple of pretty snazzy gadgets."

He reached down towards his belt, opening up the red pouch and pulling out three metal cards, each one holding a small red orb glowing in the center, with its energy flowing through the card in little clear tubes spreading out like the legs of a spider.

"These little beauties are what I like to call "Wild Cards." Those little orbs contain suspended cognitive magic, in this case Agi or in layman's terms, Fire. I don't have multiple Personas to switch between like a lot of our variants have, so I needed some way to strike weaknesses of any enemies that have one."

His voice was filled with pride at his creations. He didn't use them often, as to not cause unneeded property damage, but they definitely came in handy at times.

"The way they work is if I tap the orb in the middle, it'll prime them. Then I just chuck 'em at something and BAM, a fire spell goes off where ever it lands. One card has the energy equal to the base spell, Agi, but if multiple cards land close to each other, the energy combines for a stronger effect, so two equals Agilao and three equals Agidyne. But if I hold the orb down-"

He held it for a couple seconds until the card made a little beep.

"Now it's remote activated. Stick these somewhere with a bit of webbing, and you've got yourself an incendiary land mine, handy for setting traps for those tougher enemies or as a distraction to draw their attention elsewhere."

He then slipped the cards back into his belt and pointed at the many different pouches, each with a different color light atop its lid.

"Each of these holds three cards of a different element. Any more than that, and the energy gets a bit unstable. More likely to trigger on accident which... would not be good for obvious reasons."

He then pointed to the center of his belt, which contained a much larger orb, similar to the ones in his cards, but this one swirled with a mixture of blue and white energy.

"And this is my last resort. Almighty energy. Much more unstable than any of the other types, not to mention much harder to make, so I can only ever have one on me. But the energy contained within is equal to a Megidolaon, the tier three version of the spell. I try not to use it if I don't have to, but when I do... HOO BOY, you do NOT wanna be anywhere near it when it goes off."

"Mhm~!The Sea of Souls. An ocean of soul-stars, punctuated by 12-ish hour periods of Mystery Sunlight. And, dotted with Mystery Portals that dump me in random worlds." Akira quipped, eager to talk about something he rarely got to - especially to somebody who might actually be able to understand the various terms he'd have to use, without needing him to explain them all.

"Woke up in there one day after the App came back and I tested it to make sure it was real. Scooped me up, and dumped me on a giant galleon ship crewed by Shadows, its sails covered with a glowing hexagonal pattern." He probably didn't need to explain himself like this every time, Akira noted to himself, but it made it easier to understand how and why he was literally sailing the Sea of Soul in a literal sailing ship when he did so. Or at least, he thought so. "If it helps up the coolness factor, she tends to change shape to match the world I'm in better, if I take her in with me~" Not too much, not so drastically that he'd potentially lose the stuff in the hold, but enough that she'd blend in a hell of a lot more than just a plain wooden sailing ship.

But as his reflection rambled - and then apologized for doing so, Akira couldn't help but shake his head.

"No, it's not a problem - it's interesting-! And impressive at that. You must be pretty damn clever, Kenzo couldn't even figure out how the App worked, and he was basically reading it's code directly. Or trying, anyway." The machine-entity had told him that although he could hack into it, it was like there was nothing on the other side, or like he was deliberately being dodged and hidden from.

"Seriously, that's one of the coolest things I've ever seen, you deserve to ramble about it now and again~ Coolest thing I've ever done is jerryrig a generator out of a rock that produces electricity. I wish I could make a world-hopping watch." A slight grin - he liked tinkering as well, honestly - and he continued. "You have anything else super-cool like that~?"

[seriowan]

hello! i was wondering if i could get a spicy fic with prompt 18 and dialogue 2 with echo? :)

masterlist ♡ from this prompt list prompt: (18) pushing your lover against a wall after one too many teasing comments, but being met with unsaid tension instead of the quiet; both of you unable to continue with the jokes dialogue: (2) god, you look so good.

cw/tw: explicit 18+ (MINORS DNI) teasing, sexual tension, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving)word count: 2.4knote: thanks for the submission, anon! writing echo as teasing was pretty challenging so i switched it up a bit and played with it. ☺️ enjoy!!

working for it - tbb echo x female!AFAB reader

Annoying Echo was a pastime. A hobby, really, worth every cent of your time if it meant being able to see that pout on his lips, or the flash of fire in his usually calm eyes.

He was extra irritated with you since the moment Hunter had assigned you to help him fix the ship. With Tech and Wrecker working on maintenance and cleaning at the parlor; Hunter and Omega halfway across the world on a side mission, you and Echo were left alone to fix the ship and continue Tech's modifications.

Not that you minded. You actually enjoyed annoying Echo, even when he showed his disapproval. Especially when he showed his annoyance.

Your reason was quite simple, contrary to Echo's confusion: You just liked seeing him annoyed. Echo was always so poised, so proper, and never once really gave into temptation like the others in the Batch. They shared drinks with you like you were part of the crew since their days in the tube; everyone except Echo who, shockingly, disapproved of you since you stepped foot on their ship.

You were loud, inattentive, and irritably funny. Though, he'd never mention that to you. Obviously. And yet, while you were nothing more than a nuisance, Echo never went more than the irritated eye roll or snarky comment. He never got angry enough to yell at you or frustrated enough to show you anything darker than a scowl.

And yet he always looked like he was struggling whenever you were around. Clenched fists, avoided eye contact, flushed cheeks... all of the evidence was there, laid out for you to simply look and connect the dots.

Today, you'd finally draw the whole picture.

Echo had no idea of your plan, of course. He was as oblivious as ever to your efforts, working away in the ship's engine as if you weren't even standing next to him. But, it was easy to admit that you weren't an image of beauty — you had grease all over your arms and neck, spotting your face and your chest. The purposefully chosen low-cut tank top was no longer white, but grey and spotted with brown oils and ship grease. Your overalls were unbuttoned, hanging over your waist after the grease had made the denim pitch black.

Your cleavage was on display like a fluorescent neon sign calling for Echo's attention. Still, it wasn't given. In fact, Echo avoided looking at your face entirely while he worked. He leaned into the belly of the ship, calling for tools and parts without once sharing a glance at your face.

Physical lure set aside, you decided to start goading him with relatively risky inuendos.

"You've got to open your fingers a bit more."

And you were close, nearly breathing down his neck as he worked to drill a screw behind a jungle of wires. Your breath fanned his neck, lips hovering just a few centimeters over his skin. Taking in a breath, you shut your eyes and sighed. Spearmint and gunship petroleum.

You glanced over his shoulder, arching a brow. "Work your way in there or you won't get it from that angle."

"I can get it from that angle just fine."

"Yeah?" You chuckled, grabbing the edge of the open ship to lean inside until you were face to face with what Echo worked on. "Are you that confident in yourself?"

"I'm pretty damn confident when no one is telling me what to do."

"I'm not telling you what to do," you corrected pointedly, grasping a piece that slipped out from the tip of his scomp arm. As you put it back in its spot and held it, Echo welded the edges together. "I'm simply advising and giving my educated input."

"Do you usually give everyone useless input?"

"Only when I like seeing them get frustrated by my genius folly."

Echo snorted. "Genius folly sounds a bit counterintuitive."

You backed away when he finished and moved on to a small adjustment in the wires. Propping your elbow on the metal mess of gears and engine pieces, you propped your chin in your hand, consequently spreading the grease from your fingers.

After a beat of silence, you sighed. "If you keep twisting your wrist like that, you'll never splice them correctly."

"Forgive me for being mutilated," Echo drawled sarcastically, raising his scomp arm for emphasis. "I'm not as efficient as I once was."

Your expression became smug. Worming your way closer to his side, you reached into the ship and leaned far enough to pop your ass out, all while expertly twisting the spliced wires with just one hand.

Echo finally looked at you, brows furrowed in irritation yet mingled with a certain sense of confusion that made you smirk. The close proximity left you shoulder-to-shoulder, holding eye contact the moment you turned your head to look up at him.

You teasingly ran your hand down his arm. He took a sharp breath.

"Oh," you hummed softly, briefly wetting your lips. "I think one hand can get the job done just fine."

He reacted before you could blink. One minute you were facing the ship's side and the next, Echo had your back pressing against the ship's cool metal exterior. He held a large hand against your chest, fingers sprawling across your collarbones to hold you in place.

Muddled eyes flickered across your face. He was distraught with emotions, a mix between anger and confusion, laced with a broken willingness as he seethed, "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to figure you out." He looked from your eyes to your lips, furrowed his brows, and clenched his jaw. "I don't understand you. I don't understand why you make me want to just-"

His voice fell silent when he met your eyes. You were quiet, hardly uttering a word much less making any noise while his hand was on your chest, pressing you against the ship.

The craving for his touch coursed through you like electricity, preventing you from looking at him with anything a haze of want and need for more. You had finally, finally made him snap. Furrowed brows, parted lips, pupils blown wide with frustration, confusion, and just what you wanted to see.

Unsatiated need.

His gaze flickered to your lips with uncertainty. You smiled, pulling his attention back up to your silently pleading eyes. Palming his hand, you gave his fingers an assuring squeeze.

It's okay.

The flame was lit; the last line, finally connected to form an overall image. And by the maker, was it a beautiful picture of you and Echo, tangled in chaotic limbs while your lips danced to the fiery tune of your breaths, mingled and muffled with the few moans.

You couldn't help but sigh with relief. Bliss was so overwhelming that you struggled to keep yourself standing as he pinned you against the wall with his chest. He propped the scomp above your head, holding himself steady while his hand roamed down your side, fingers pebbling over the nipples that perked through your white tank top.

Echo, finally noticing that you were braless this entire time, arched his brows in surprise and pulled away from your lips with a breathy, "You were expecting this?"

"I've been working for it," you admitted with a sly smirk, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him back in for another kiss.

"I can see that," he spoke into your mouth, muffled by your lips. Giving your nipple a final tug through the thin fabric, he roamed his hand down your side before squeezing your hips to confirm that yes, you were real and he was there, drinking the taste of your tongue like it was nectar from the gods.

The glove on his hand was a nuisance to remove but once it was off, Echo slipped his fingers past the waistline of your overalls, and into your panties.

You grasped his bicep, still holding his stare as your eyes widened. His middle finger slipped through your warm cunt, collecting the slick that had pooled across your panties before dragging it, smearing it, spreading it all over your cunt until you felt yourself drip down your thighs. He smirked when he graced your clit with his fingertip, pleased by the breathless gasp and scrunched-up face of pleasure.

"Maker, you look so good," he exhaled in disbelief, tracing the outline of your body, memorizing the look of open-mouthed pleasure and cherry red cheeks; tousled hair and swollen lips.

Truly, in his eyes, you were damn near heavenly, even with the grease and the dirt and the grime sticking to your skin. You looked skewed with airy enjoyment, clouds of pure bliss hanging in your eyes as you stared at him and only him, capturing every look of perseverance and foggy doubt. The look of a mechanic was something else entirely that made his cock strain against his codpiece.

But that would be handled later. For now, you were both still debating if this was even real.

Echo couldn't believe that he was touching you. If anything, he couldn't believe that he was kissing you, the woman who had absolutely driven him mad with annoyance and frustration and utter aggravation. And the most unbelievable of them all was that he loved it — your moans, the way you rocked your head back against the ship, exposing your neck for him to suck, lick, and mark you as much as he desired. He loved the way you held onto his arm, legs trembling as massaged your cunt with alternating speeds and pressure.

Like the tables had turned and it was his mission to now make you come undone.

You couldn't believe that Echo's hand was masterfully skilled enough to drive you to the brink of orgasming after just a few minutes. But he worked methodically, sliding his fingers across your clit and through your lips — a pattern that made you shut your eyes and let out a moan when his middle and ring finger slipped into your pulsing cunt, palm grinding against your sensitive, buzzing clit.

Echo hid his heated face in the crook of your neck, latching his lips on the cleaner spots of skin underneath your ear. You rocked your head back, gripping the back of his neck as he continued to suck your neck and fuck your cunt with his fingers. The added grind of his palm against your clit left you violently shaking, sputtering low praises into his ear to keep your voice from echoing.

"Fuck, Echo, that feels so good- M-Maker, you're so- fuck!"

"Let me have a taste," he breathed into your neck, slowing down the pace of his hand until he was leisurely dipping his fingers into your cunt and dragging the wetness through your lips and over your clit. You mewled, tightening your grip on his neck. "Let me taste you. Give me what I worked for."

"Fuck yes, anything," you whined, grinding your hips against his palms when you grew unsatisfied by the slow pace. "Anything you want, you can have. Just keep touching me— please."

Echo didn't need to be told twice. Shucking your overalls and panties down your legs, he kneeled in front of you and hooked your left leg over his shoulder, eyes flickering up to meet yours with a devilish smirk on his lips.

Holding his scomp against the ship's side for stability, he grabbed your hip with the other and leaned your hips outward, giving him a full view of the glistening pink pussy that he had coated with his hand.

Gods, the view was enough to make you want to melt right then and there. Echo, kneeling in front of you, locked onto your gaze with lustful eyes that drank and watched every twisted gasp, whiny moan, and breathless pleads. He watched you as he leaned forward and he watched you as he opened his mouth, dragging his tongue through your heat, then swallowing.

You lowered your hand, swiping your thumb across his brow. The affectionate movement didn't go unnoticed for he stilled, pulling his mouth from your cunt, lips shiny and wet with your arousal.

"Nothing to say?" He goaded, cocking a brow. "Maybe I should do this more often; if it gets you to stop pestering me."

"Clearly it's- fuck- working," you heaved, chest rising and falling as you arched your back and let out a long, dragging groan. "Oh fuck, Echo, I think I'm going to come. Fuck, just like that, keep doing that."

Echo clenched your hip hard enough to assure that you'd have fingertip-shaped bruises in the morning. His tongue glided while his lips sucked, drawing your coil tighter, faster, and louder until your head was swimming and your lips were blubbering noises and mindless rambles.

Static buzzed through your body, toes curling with pleasure when the white-hot supernova in your gut exploded and showered you with warmth. The euphoria rippled through you until you were physically trembling, holding onto Echo's shoulders with both hands, eyes clenched shut and riddled with stars.

Every movement felt like standing on water. Echo lowered your leg from his shoulder but the second it touched the ground, the weightlessness consumed it as well. You would have collapsed had Echo not stood, pulling your underwear and overalls up as he rose. He fixed the straps to your clothes, adjusted your tank top, and placed his hand on your side to steady you.

Arching your head, you looked up just in time for Echo to place his forehead against yours in a strikingly intimate gesture. It felt so right. Like you were both puzzle pieces of different shapes and colors, yet perfectly made to fit.

He exhaled a steady breath, cheeks puffing. You swallowed and hummed with contentment.

"So, does this mean you'll do this every time I pester you? Or was that just hypothetical."

Echo pulled away, eyes narrowed. Though he had a scowl of annoyance, you didn't miss the teasing tone that made your heart swell.

"It's open for interpretation," he mused. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he looped his arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his chest, eyes twinkling playfully. "Now let's get back to work, we've got some more to do before the others get back."

"Why, don't want them to see you glowing like you're a Jedi with mystical powers?"

He scoffed and gently nudged you away with a palm to your face, earning a surprised yelp.

"Get back to work, peach. That's an order."

-

[subwaysurf45]

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.7)

Summary:  you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title

Words: 3412

Episode: seven

Warning: PTSD, vomiting

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Six

Time: 8:01am 

Date: October 7th 2024

Were you running late?

 Yes.

Your final appointment with Bruce was today and it was scheduled for 8:00 in the morning, you had set your alarm with enough time to get there but Bucky had other plans. While you were getting up Bucky snaked his metal arm around you, he knew you couldn’t break out of it, he pulled you back in his chest so you could stay for a little longer but you managed to bribe him after giving a few kisses down his neck. As you sucked his hand relaxed and when he didn’t see it coming and you snuck out to your bathroom to get ready for the day, you knew he was too tired to get up and pull you back. 

The surgery for both your nose and removing the serum went without a hitch, though you did have a panic attack a day later because it seemed too good to be true for you, everything else went fine. Bruce managed to take samples of your skin and make them into cartilage for your nose, it took a couple days for it to marry and accept your face, it would turn really red and then lose all colour in a matter of minutes. The serum removal took longer than expected, and it turns out what Bruce’s lab was creating wasn’t what he was expecting. The antibiotic would actually get into your bloodstream and split the serum from the red blood cells, but it wouldn’t remove them, the serum would still circulate in your body but just next to the red blood cells. 

A heart-lung by-pass machine was used while you were sedated, you could have been awake but seeing your blood fill a tube and then go back into you while a bag filled with blue liquid was just extra trauma you didn’t want to see. There were always complications with being sedated, but Bucky supported you no matter what. You weren’t left feeling sick after but like you hadn’t slept in days, you found there was a difference between waking up from passing out like you did in the cell and just lack of sleep, Bucky had looked at you quizzically when you said it randomly, but you couldn’t seem to explain. 

You still get headaches from time to time, it normally comes from that same spot in the back of your head and high on your neck, you’d feel around for a scab or scar but would find nothing. There was a bump when you’d checked recently but it seemed as though it was a goose egg form getting hit, but that was so long ago. You didn’t talk about your bump much because you thought people would look at you crazy, some people already did; while others looked at you like you were a ghost. 

As you walked to Banner's lab an agent stopped talking to her friend to look you up and down, and hand came to cover her mouth but you saw the smirk in her eyes. You just shrugged and turned into the lab. 

“You’re late,” Bruce said, he was sat on his stool with everything in hand, clipboard and pen at the ready. 

“Sorry,” you smiled and sat down. 

Bruce began to do the checks, he got good at hiding that he was taking blood, he’d point across the room to show a floating hologram of all your vitals and while you were reading over them he’d quickly stick the needle in to draw a bit of blood. 

He did the same except he pinched your thigh as he stuck in the needle point to make your attention go to your leg instead of the inside of your elbow. 

“Ow!” you slapped his hand away, “I’m used to it by now, and I also trust you and know you’re not trying to stick a foreign serum into me.'' You shook your head and read the file that was left open, “I can’t believe it’s my last test,” you sighed and leaned back in the chair. 

The whirl of the centrifuge wasn’t too loud, Bruce stood beside it with one arm holding his weight on the desk. He watched as you looked over the file again and again, your finger would trace the words and slowly find their way to the corner of the page to flip. The further you got into the file the further back you went, Bruce noticed you tend to stay on your injury report page a bit longer than the others, you’d study the little picture of a person and all the ‘X’s that were drawn where you got hurt; you could barely see the human drawing underneath. He’d watch as you read over every description of the injuries you’ve gotten, one time he asked why and you looked at him and said. 

“Because I go over how to fix each injury, so when I go back into the field I can stay on my toes.” 

But he knew you were just tired of feeling like you weren’t helping when in reality you prompted a medical breakthrough, not everyone gets infected by a mind controlling serum, but the new use of a heart-lung by-pass was being looked at by hospitals. 

Bruce took the blood out of the centrifuge and looked into the vial, there was no trace of blue like there was the first time he did it, just plasma and blood. You were still reading and he knew you’d pass his test so instead of telling you he was starting the evaluation, he just did it. 

“Close that book.” He lowered his voice which sent a boom through the lab. 

You didn’t close it but it did scare you for a second, a little jump but you went right back to reading. You weren’t trying to be mean by not listening but you had to show that you wouldn’t follow orders but rather respond like a normal human, the first day you flinched for the stool when Bruce asked you to walk it over to him but after that you tended to act like he wasn’t in the room. 

“Stand up.” he barked. 

You looked over to him, “no thanks,” you smiled, Bruce smiled back. 

“Can you stand for a second, please?” Bruce squinted and leaned back on the desk, he was challenging how you’d react to an indirect command, it was an offer rather than a command. 

“I don't know, can I?” You tilted your head to the side, a wide smile was being suppressed by a terrible poker face. 

“May you please stand?” Bruce walked over with a proud smile on his face, he was no longer challenging you. 

You just laughed and stood, “only because you asked so nicely,” you let your teeth flash while you both laughed. “Why did you choose standing? That’s like, day one stuff,” you sighed from laughing and closed the file. 

“Because I want to hug you,” he opened his arms wide, “to congratulate you. Now give me a hug, that’s an order!” he giggled but laughed even more when you pretended to scope him out, “just kidding, come ‘ere, kid.” 

You fell into a hug and wrapped your arms tightly around him, Bruce did the same. It was quick but it meant the world. “Thanks for everything, Bruce.” You smiled as you walked out of the room, “I mean it, you really helped me out.” 

“Don't mention it, you’re free!” he opened his arms wide to shew you out of his lab. 

You walked out and closed the door behind you, you only took a few steps before staring off into the distance. “I guess I am…” you muttered to yourself before continuing to walk back to your room. 

As you walked you didn’t even see Bucky in the kitchen “doll!” he called and you turned instantly, “breakfast?” he tilted the frying pan over so you could see french toast. 

Your eating and sleeping were the only things that didn’t seem to get better, nightmares plagued you every night and you could barely stomach a workout smoothie. Bucky would try his best to get you to eat but he typically ate your leftovers instead of making a meal for himself, it was hard to watch because you weren’t gaining weight and he still felt guilty when he’d touch your back and feel every ridge. 

“I’ll have a bit,” you smiled and walked over, “I’m a free bird now.” you commented as he slipped the bread on your plate. 

“Way to go, babe, I knew you could do it.” He scrunched his nose and took the stool beside you, “eat slow and as much as you want, no worries.” He kissed your temple before pulling out his phone. 

You slowly started to eat, you put the corner of the bread in your mouth and chewed slowly. The sweetness and the flavour was still overpowering, you weren’t used to this much intensity and it only made you feel nauseous. As much as Bucky acted like he wasn’t paying attention you could see his eyes look over as far as he can to gauge your reaction, when you’d catch him looking he’d just cough and look forward. You only got four bites in before turning your nose up and pushing the plate to Bucky. He didn’t want to seem disappointed but he was, not in you but rather himself, nothing was working. 

“What do you think you can eat?” He asked softly. 

“Plain yogurt?” you questioned. 

“I’ll give anything a shot,” he breathed and stood. The yogurt was far back in the fridge but he found it eventually, he poured a little bowl, “you want granola?” he asked. 

“Just yogurt,” she sheepishly replied, a thin line formed on your lips. 

He served it up and went back to eating the french toast, you scooped it up and took a spoonful. It was so plain and boring, nothing tingled on your taste buds. There was no category for it, it wasn't sweet or sour, it wasn’t savoury; it was just plain. The metallic taste from the spoon had more power than the yogurt itself. Nothing to chew, no berries or granola. 

It was perfect. 

In no time you scarfed it down, the spoon clicked on the bowl as you scraped for the ends of it. Bucky had been cooking your favourite foods to make you feel at home, you liked spice and sweetness normally. You’d turn down yogurt a month ago if it didn’t have your favourite granola in it, but what both you and Bucky didn’t realize was that you started with crazy flavours instead of the basics. Butter and bread, plain crackers, and maybe some almonds sounded great right now.  

Bucky looked over in shock to see you done with your food, he watched as you went to the pantry and pulled out some unsalted crackers. You plopped a few into your mouth and just waited to see if your body would reject it, but it didn’t.

��Guess I went too fast, too soon, huh?” he let out an unhappy laugh, “you could’ve been eating for a while…” he muttered and stood. He was exhausted, the darker circles under his eyes and the flatness of his skin didn’t go unnoticed. You woke up every night screaming and thrashing around in the bed, the sheets would be piled on the floor from your arms swinging around. As much as Bucky wanted some sleep, he knew for a fact that you’d been in disposition before, you’d been the one to gently ease him out of a nightmare for three weeks straight.   

“You did your best and I love you for it,” You smiled and leaned across the counter to kiss his lips, he sat back down again, “I would have done the same thing, if it makes you feel better.”

Bucky just rubbed his face and looked up to you, “how?” was all he asked. 

“How...what?” you giggled, but Bucky didn’t crack a smile. 

“Why are you so upbeat right now, I get it you finished your tests with Banner but, god, I don’t know how you’re so happy?” He didn’t sound angry but more in disbelief, if it were him, Bucky knew he’d be curled into a ball in the middle of the bed for days, there wouldn’t be anything to make him happy. 

You just sighed and sat down next to him again, “I’m not upbeat right now, if I’m being honest,” you looked forward and the sleek grey cupboards, “I can’t train because my stitches will fall out, I can’t run for the same reason. Half of the team treats me like fine china while the other half still punches me in the arm when they tell a funny joke, if I’m hanging out with Steve he will ask if I’m okay after every little thing while Tony doesn’t seem to understand that I don’t like sneak attacks anymore.” You wiped down your face with both hands, “my head still hurts like crazy, especially in that one spot in the back, everyone is too loud and I’ve been called ‘too quiet’ too many times for me to count.” You finally looked over to Bucky who had the saddest eyes, his lips curled down as he scanned over you, “you’re the only one who I can be, somewhat, happy around because you get it. Yes, you can be very cautious but you’ve backed off when I’ve said no and you’ve learned not to push when I can’t remember much. Bucky,” you cupped his face with one hand, you could feel him push into it, “you see me happy around you because you’re the only one who knows how to put a smile on my face right now, and I’m so happy it’s you.” Before he could say anything you pulled him in for a kiss, he hummed into it and reached up to place his hand over yours; it was still resting on his stubbled cheek. 

“I didn’t know I was doing all that right, I thought I was failing.” Bucky muttered against your lips, you could feel the sadness in his voice. 

“I still can’t lift my arm up all the way without it hurting, you wash my hair and put it in the clip when I ask, you might not have figured that food out or my nightmares but you do the little things, and that’s what makes it better.” Bucky’s arms moved down to hold you at your waist, you were still close. All he could do was smile, the kind of smile you use when you get a prize for a thing you really didn’t think mattered or when you’re embarrassed of how you fell in front of everyone; his lips turned down but his eyes smiled. 

The rest of your morning flowed into your afternoon easily, you’d spent some time just lounging in the bed and keeping each other warm. Little make-out session might brew but nothing went too far, it wouldn’t for a while and you both agreed on that. At one point you fell asleep curled up against Bucky’s chest, he stayed still and when it came time, he helped you out of your nightmare. The little kisses littered your face until you were calm again, he didn’t dare to fall asleep at this point because he knew you would too and being woken up by twitches and little pleads for help weren’t something he enjoyed for his own mental health. 

Time: 9:30pm

Date: October 7th 2024

Everyone filed into the cinema room for movie night, this was your first one since you came back. Bucky had tried to talk you out of it due to it being October and a horror movie was on the list, apparently it was a early 2000’s slasher, basically the worst movie to come back to. You were done with hiding away from the team, you wanted to see them again, scary movies didn’t bother you before because you knew they were just movies and alien killers weren’t real, you really didn’t know how much could change now. 

There was a bowl of popcorn for you and Bucky, you sat in the corner so you were nestled into the armrest and the back pillow, Bucky was on your left, cautiously watching you as Nat queued up the movie. 

“I now present,” she held her arms in front of the screen, “Camp Blood!” The movie faded in from black and a hush fell over the team. People snuggled deeping into their blankets and got ready for the movie, you just leaned your head on Bucky’s shoulder and threw a few pieces of popcorn- without butter -in your mouth.

Not even a half an hour later you were really shaken up, the gore and the blood had slowly broken down your walls and gotten to your head. You had hid it so well Bucky genuinely had no idea even though he was checking in on you after every kill, a little kiss to your temple before a double check. 

“I have to pee,” you whispered to Bucky and left the room. 

You sprinted down and to the back where there was a door to the outside, the air was suffocating and you couldn’t breathe. It seemed everything you could remember was flashing in your mind all at once while new memories were coming into play, it was all so overwhelming and you couldn’t handle it. You pushed the door open and stumbled to your knees and the cold fall weather opened your lungs so wide you thought they were going to pop, the gasps came out unevenly and some were quick shots of air. Your hand was pulling and scratching at the finally held bruise on your neck, it was like you could feel the chains slowly wrapping around you like a snake's tail, coming up around your neck and squeezing tightly. 

With one push, the chains in your mind snapped and all the popcorn you had eaten came back out, right onto the deck that was power washed three days ago. A few pieces of kernels got stuck when you took your first breath in but after spitting them out you could finally breathe again. 

You sat back up on your feet and just looked into the night sky, it was too cold for you to be out here but it was peaceful. With the serum you would have been fine with this weather but that had left you, you were free now, if you wanted you could run down the grass into the forest and never see anyone ever again. It was horrifying that that idea was pleasant to you, you’d never see Bucky ever again but you could be free. 

One foot hit the grass, but then the sound of a lock pulled you from your fantasy, you looked over your shoulder to see the lights off and the red emergency lights spinning around. You ran up to bang on the door but no one could see or hear you, “let me on!” you screamed for anyone but you knew these glass doors were sound proof. “Fuck!” 

“Soldat,” you froze, the voice you remembered vividly rang through your head, you shook it off and kept pounding on the door, “they’re never going to help you,” it chanted in your mind. 

“No, let me in!” you screamed again, your head hit the glass door in defeat, the voice mocked you in your brain. You pulled away from the glass and looked into the building, but then your focal point focused on the reflection. 

“Soldat, break in and kill them all.” the voice said, the slick hair and the notch in his brow, the leader that got away. To your horror, your break straightened and your chin went up, you turned towards the man who never gave you his name. He dressed in all black and wore a Hydra pin over his heart, “you really think we’d let you get away?” he asked, “you really think we only gave you the serum?”

“What is happening?” you asked, your mind was being taken over. 

“I’ll say it again. Soldat, break in and kill them all.” his smile grew. 

You didn’t want to, but somehow the other part of you did. 

“copy.” 

And the glass shattered with one punch. 

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine​ @commonintrest​ @buckyys-doll​  @lil-baby-nor @wafflesncream​​

let me know if you want a tag!!!

[cali-holland]

Hubby- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Requested by Anonymous: Hello my love! can I get a cute request? just super cute domestic Tom and y/n. Because we all know love isn't just about the grand gestures, but the simple moments or giggling together and making faces in the mirror as you brush your teeth, him stealing a slice of veggie off the chopping board as you get dinner ready, him complaining that you like too many cushions on the bed, the little mumbled 'love you' as you both go to sleep. I'm down for reading anything like that . love your writing :)

Prompt: Tom makes even the simplest of days amazing.

Word Count: 4800

Warnings: Swearing, sexual jokes/innuendos, some pain (Tom gets hit in the balls at one point), LOTS of fluff

A/N: this is for the lovely @cunaeparker​ ‘s writing challenge, the prompt is in bold! I combined it with the request because it just went so well with all the fluff!!

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

The familiar sound of a cell phone buzzing drew you out of your deep sleep. With your eyes still closed, you cuddled closer to Tom’s chest, hoping that the phone would quit ringing soon. He shifted underneath you as he tried to reach his phone on the nightstand, but seeing as you two were tangled up on your side of the bed and there was basically a mountain of pillows on his side, he couldn’t quite grab it without moving away from you.

“Just leave it.” You mumbled, not wanting him (a.k.a. your pillow) to move.

“Love, it’s my mum.” He laughed lightly, the vibrations running through his bare chest to your cheek. He pressed a kiss to your head, before you shifted off him so he could get his phone. He picked up the call and resumed his position as your morning cuddle buddy. You wrapped an arm around his waist and laid your head back on his chest. His free hand mindlessly found its way to play with your hair.

“No, you didn’t wake us.” Tom told his mother, but the raspiness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by her. He laughed, “Okay, yes, you did.” He paused and you could hear her voice coming through the phone. Tom looked down at you for a moment, “Are we still on for the barbecue this afternoon?”

“We can be?” You answered. You both knew he obviously forgot to mention how his mother invited the two of you to a barbecue.

“Yes, mum, we’ll be there. What do you want us to bring?” He spoke back into the phone. “Vegetables? That’s not broad at all.” You lightly smacked his chest at his sarcasm, and his free hand came down to hold the hand that just hit him, “Okay, yeah we can do a salad.” There was another pause as she spoke to him before he replied, “Y/N would love to make some dessert.” Hearing him sign you up for food, you playfully glared at him. He said goodbye to his mother and tossed his phone to the side. You sat up and straddled his waist on your knees, your hands falling by his head to keep your face above his.

“Looks like we’re going grocery shopping.” Tom smiled up at you innocently, his hands resting on your hips.

“When were you going to tell me your mum invited us over?” You asked.

“Now, I guess,” He shrugged slightly. With his thumbs drawing light circles on your hips, he teasingly added, “When were you going to give me my morning kiss?”

You shrugged in return, but leaned down to kiss him nonetheless. He smiled into the kiss, moving a hand to cradle the back of your head, keeping you in place to continue kissing you.

“Your morning breath’s shit.” He laughed, pulling away from the innocent-turned-a-bit-heated kiss as you sat up straight.

“Yeah, well you have the ugliest bed head I have ever seen.” You teased, ruffling his hair. He caught your wrist, pulling your hand down to in front of his face.

“I believe this hand’s the culprit of that.” He joked, pecking your open palm.

“You weren’t complaining last night.” You shuffled off of him and got out of the bed. Walking over to your shared closet, you started to plan out a nice outfit for the day. “Come on, we gotta go grocery shopping.”

“Wanna shower together? Save time and save water?” Tom suggested, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“You get so horny in the morning.” You laughed.

“I’m needy, not horny.” He insisted before pressing a kiss to your neck. “We’ll be conserving water. C’mon, wifey, think of the planet.”

“Alright, go start the shower.” Both of you knew you would cave like almost every morning, but it didn’t stop him from letting out an excited cheer. He pecked your cheek and left to go warm up the water.

Once you two were showered and dressed, you went to make some bacon and eggs for breakfast while Tom made you both a morning cup of tea.

“Bacon,” You stated, holding out a piece of bacon from your spot by the stove as he fixed you some tea at the island. He leaned over and ate the bacon from your fingers.

“Tasty.” He hummed, turning back to his task.

“It’s bacon, duh.” You laughed, eating a piece of bacon yourself.

“Shit. We don’t have any more milk.” Tom sighed, looking at the blank spot in the fridge where the milk would normally sit. He looked at the two mugs of tea and the bowl of sugar on the counter; without milk, it just wouldn’t be right.

“Did you finish it off?” You asked, knowing he made himself a cup of tea late last night before you two went to bed.

“Damn it, I did.” He let out a groan.

“So we need milk.” You noted, taking out your phone to create a legitimate list for the store; it’d be too long for you to remember everything. “What do we want for dinner tomorrow?”

“Wanna try that lamb recipe you found last week?” He suggested.

“Yeah, can you check what we need for that?”

“You got it.” He nodded and pulled out his phone. You’d sent him the recipe just last week, saying that it looked good and that you two should try to make it sometime. He’d never made lambchops before so he was a bit skeptical, but agreed with you nonetheless. He walked through your kitchen and pantry, searching to make sure you had all of the ingredients, while you continued to finish cooking the eggs and bacon.

“Breakfast done yet?” He asked, finishing his search.

“Yep,” You replied as you dished up the food.

“You’re the best, darling.” Tom beamed, giving you a quick kiss. You grabbed both plates while he gathered the silverware and you both sat down at the small table in your kitchen nook.

“If only we had milk.” He pouted, eating a bite of the eggs.

“Hey, you drank the rest of it.” You reminded him.

“If I remember correctly, you said it was the best cuppa I’d ever made and you drank a good half of that.” He corrected you, but you just shook your head. “Wanna make that chocolate cake for dessert? I know Harry and Sam are going to be expecting it.”

Homemade chocolate cake- your ‘signature’ dessert that all of the Holland boys loved. In fact, it was that very cake that made Tom fall in love with you. The way to his heart was truly through his stomach.

“Why isn’t Sam making anything? He’s the chef.” You laughed, thinking about how Sam was insistent on being the head chef of the family.

“I think he’s actually making bread with some sort of dip.”

“Sam’s making us bread?” Your mouth was already watering at the thought of fresh homemade bread.

“We should try making bread sometime.” Tom offered. You nodded in agreement, you’d never made bread before but it’d be interesting to attempt it with Tom.

With breakfast over, Tom started to load up the dishwasher with your plates and the frying pans while you made your way into the bathroom to start on your makeup. By the time he’d finished and come into the room, you were just about to start your mascara.

“Can I do it?” He asked, an eager smile on his face.

“Don’t poke me in the eye, Holland.” You said, trying to sound threatening. You sat on the bathroom counter with your legs spread so he could stand between them. You handed him the mascara tube. He had done your mascara a couple times before (because he just really really wanted to try to do your makeup) so you trusted him to do it, for the most part. As long as he didn’t stab you somehow, then you were fine. You sat still while he applied the makeup to your lashes.

“There. Does that look good, wifey?” He stepped back enough for you to turn and look in the mirror. It was even, you had to give him props for that, but it was almost nonexistent. He was still trying to find the happy medium between applying too little and applying too much.

“You did great.” You gave him a quick kiss and hopped off the counter to full face the mirror again. You applied some more mascara on your lashes quickly and he shook his head.

“I’ll get it one day.” He stated, getting out the toothbrush as you laughed lightly at him. Tom grabbed your toothbrush and his, running them under the sink before applying toothpaste to them.

“Thank you,” You smiled as he handed you your toothbrush. 

“Can we get bananas and macadamia nuts too?” Tom asked, half muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth as he stopped brushing. You spit out the toothpaste into the sink, looking at him through the mirror.

“You want me to make banana nut bread again?” You questioned, before continuing to brush your teeth.

“It’s the best.” He nodded.

“Okay, we’ll get the stuff for it.” You reassured him. He pulled out his phone, looking at a text he’d received as you eyed him through the mirror. Even when doing something as simple as brushing his teeth, your boyfriend was just breathtaking and you felt so lucky to have him. He noticed your gaze and pulled a funny face- well, as best he could while brushing his teeth. You laughed and leaned over the sink, spitting out the mixture of toothpaste and saliva in your mouth as you coughed. If it was anyone else beside you, you would’ve been embarrassed by the unattractiveness of the scene, but it was Tom, your loving boyfriend of four years.

“God, you’re making me choke on spit.” You laughed, cleaning off your toothbrush under the faucet.

“Spitters are quitters, babe.” Tom teased you and you playfully elbowed him in the torso, causing him to yelp in surprise. You stepped aside so he could use the sink. After spitting into the sink and rinsing out his mouth, he turned to you with a cheeky grin, “I know, I know. I of all people should know you’re not a spitter.”

“Fuck off.” You rolled your eyes at him, spraying some of your perfume onto your neck. Your collection of perfume sat in the corner of the bathroom counter, right next to Tom’s own collection of cologne- ironically (but it was totally expected actually) he had more.

“By the way, my mum asked if we could host the barbecue here? Apparently my dad forgot their barbecue was broken.” He asked you as he put on cologne.

“Did you forget to tell me that too?”

“No, no, I swear she just now texted me about it.” He insisted, slipping on a watch while you put on some jewelry. The two of you maneuvering through the bathroom easily in your morning routine.

“That’s fine if we host, but that just means you’re helping me clean.” You stated.

“When do I not help you clean?” He smiled at you innocently and you narrowed your eyes at him. You both knew exactly how much he helped you clean. In all honesty, he would genuinely help you clean for a solid hour, but it was around hour 2 of cleaning that turned into a dance party for him, which turned into him distracting you from cleaning. “I can always ask if Harry could host it, but then Harrison would be there.”

“Oh no, definitely can’t handle Harrison showing up.” You sarcastically rolled your eyes. It was a running joke between the three of you that you and Harrison were competing for Tom’s attention. Harrison was like a brother to you, and there really wasn’t any competition going on, but it was still funny to joke about. “Your mum probably invited him already.”

“She probably did.” He laughed. He shoved off the numerous pillows on his side of the bed, except for the one he actually sleeps on at the head of the bed, “Do we really need that many pillows?”

“They’re comfy!” You insisted, pulling up the bottom sheet on your side as he mirrored your actions across the bed.

“I’m your pillow, you don’t even use them.”

“You’re not wrong, but we’re keeping them.” You smiled while the two of you finished making the bed.

After you two went to the grocery store (and Tom just about dropped most of the groceries while unloading them because he was carrying like ten bags between his two hands since “multiple trips are for the weak, love”), he put away the groceries while you started the laundry. While it wasn’t something his family would actually see when they came later, it’d been piling up for days and you just really needed it to get done.

“What do you want to listen to?” Tom asked as you came back into the kitchen. He sat perched on the kitchen counter with his phone in hand, small bluetooth stereo sitting beside him. Just as you opened your mouth to suggest an artist, he cut you off with a grin, “No One Direction.”

“Shawn Mendes then?” You teased, stepping between his legs.

“Nope.” He shook his head.

“Why’d you ask me then, hubby?” You laughed, taking his phone from his hands and stepping away from him.

“Hey, that’s mine!” He jumped off the counter, trying to grab his phone back.

“Too late.” You smiled as the familiar opening to “Steal My Girl” played over the speakers. You queued a few more random songs on his Spotify and handed his phone back over to him, “Now, you’re on vacuum duty.”

“You said ‘duty’.” He giggled like a schoolboy.

“Thomas,” You sighed. 

“You lined that one up for me!” He gave you a quick kiss. You shook your head at your crazy boyfriend as he wandered off to the closet where you kept the vacuum.

“Everybody wanna steal my girl, everybody wanna take her heart away,” Tom shouted along to the chorus from the other room. “Couple billion in the whole wide world, find another one ‘cause she belongs to me!”

You sang along to the song while you worked on the cake. Once it was in the oven, you started on cutting the array of vegetables for the salad. You weren’t far into the process of washing and cutting the different vegetables before Tom came into the kitchen vacuum in hand.

“Do I get some?” He asked, spying the cucumber you were currently cutting up. He walked over to you, mouth open wide wanting a slice. You gave him a piece of the cucumber and he hummed in content. He cracked open the oven slightly to smell the cake baking in there, “Damn, I should wife you up, you’re great in the kitchen.”

“Uhuh,” You laughed at his comment. While you two called each other wifey/hubby and make “wife me up” jokes, neither of you really were ready for marriage and neither of you felt any pressure to get married. “I left the beaters out for you.”

Tom smiled as he grabbed one of the chocolate covered beaters, licking it like a little kid with a lollipop. The song changed to “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” and your boyfriend wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Don’t go breaking my heart,” He started singing into the beater (that had been mostly licked clean by that nice tongue of his), nodding at you encouragingly to keep singing.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” You sang back, unable to hide your smile at his antics.

“Oh honey, if I get restless,”

“Baby, you’re not that kind”

He set the beater aside to take your hands in his, pulling you in to dance with him. Your little impromptu dancing and singing party ended when the song changed and you pulled him back to the reality that was cleaning. While Tom finished vacuuming the house and cleaning the tables outside, you completed the salad and cake and cleaned the kitchen.

“Wanna watch something until my parents show up?” Tom asked you from his spot on the couch in the living room as you began to move the laundry.

“Sure, just fold these.” You said, walking into the living room. He frowned, hoping he was done with household chores. Seeing his reaction, you emptied the laundry basket of clean clothes on him.

“Hey, I’m layin’ here!” He did in his best overdramatic New Yorker impression.

“Fold the laundry, Dustin Hoffman.” You shook your head at him before leaving to finish moving the laundry around. You called back to him from the other room, “When is your family coming?”

“About twenty minutes?” Tom replied, checking his phone quickly to look at the time.

“Did you see if Haz was coming?” You asked, coming back into the room to help him fold the clothes.

“Why? You wanna see Haz that desperately?” He joked.

“Oh obviously. What’s the point of moving in with you if I can’t show off to Haz that I’m winning?” You teased. Tom threw a sock at you, shaking his head with a laugh. 

“Yeah, Harry said he’s coming. We’ve got an even number for football now.” He smiled, ready to play against his brothers.

“I’m so going to kick your ass after what happened last time.” You stated.

“Darling, you know that was an accident.” Tom insisted, still feeling a bit guilty about the incident. Last time you were playing football with him, his brothers, and Harrison, he accidentally kicked the ball in your face while you were even on the same team. Luckily, there was no mark, but Tom was even clingier than usual as he felt incredibly guilty about it. It occurred a month ago and you were ready for payback.

“I’m just teasing.” You smiled, leaning over the pile of laundry to give him a kiss. The two of you worked silently on finishing up folding the clothes until Tom’s eyes landed on your lacy black underwear, cheekily smiling at you while he held it up.

“Your boyfriend must be so lucky to see you in this.”

“Oh those? Didn’t buy ‘em for him.” You teased, taking the underwear from his hands and putting it aside. Tom’s hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you into his lap.

“I’m so lucky to have you. You’re my favorite person.” He said as you rested your forehead against his.

“You’re my favorite person, too.” Your hands rested at the back of his neck as you leaned in to kiss him. With your fingers scratching the nape of his neck lightly as they played with his hair there and his hands bringing you even more tightly against him, you two started to get caught up in the moment; nothing lustful, just passionate and romantic. You broke the kiss, your nose resting against his as you looked into his eyes, both of you a bit breathless.

You jumped hearing the doorbell ring. His family was here, and that meant the laundry needed to be off the couch and hidden in your room. As Tom went to answer the door, you hurried to move the laundry to your room, quickly folding the last few articles of clothing.

“Smells clean in here, must be Y/N.” Sam teased his older brother as he walked into the house with Tessa at his feet. He held a container of the freshly baked bread while his parents and Paddy came in behind him, bringing in the uncooked main course. Tom rolled his eyes at Sam’s comment, leaning down to give Tessa some well deserved love. You had lived with Tom for almost two years now, and his brothers still loved to poke fun at how organized and well-decorated his house is. Harry and Harrison trailed shortly after them, holding a ball for later and a case of beer as their contribution for the evening. You came out of the bedroom, having put the laundry away enough for now, and greeted your second family.

“Were we interrupting something?” Harrison snickered, spotting the underwear you had accidentally left on the couch.

“It’s laundry day. Get your head out of the gutter.” Tom quickly grabbed the offending undergarment and haphazardly threw it in your room before closing the door.

“Gross.” Harry gagged.

“So no sitting on the couch.” Sam laughed.

“Don’t sit anywhere then if you’re so concerned.” You smacked your boyfriend for his teasing comment that wasn’t completely untrue. Though you loved the Hollands and they loved you, you still weren’t comfortable with the sex jokes in front of his parents, that’s just never a good topic.

“Sam, that bread smells heavenly.” You told him, effectively changing the topic.

“Thank you. I tried a new recipe to make the artichoke dip to go with it.” He explained as you all moved out of the house to the outside table. He set the container of the table and opened it up so you could see (and smell even more) the bread.

You got wrapped up in a conversation with Sam and Nikki as you pet Tessa, who sat happily at your feet. Tom and his dad got the barbecue together while the other three boys started to kick around the ball on the grass.

“Wanna be on my team, wifey?” Tom asked you, walking up behind your chair and resting his head on your shoulder, letting his hands fall to your lap.

“Hell no, I told you I was getting payback.” You replied, making Sam laugh while his older brother pouted.

“Pwease?” He grabbed your hands in his, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Too late, she’s on my team.” Sam piped up, despite the fact that teams hadn’t even been discussed yet.

“We’re stealing your girl.” Harry said, kicking the ball over to Tom. You unwrapped yourself from Tom’s arms to stand up as his pout grew bigger.

“Aw, you’re breaking his heart. Does this mean I’m the favorite now?” Harrison asked with a hopeful smile. 

“Only if we win.” Tom stated, picking up the ball and walking over to the far side of the yard with Harrison and Paddy.

“So that’s a no.” You smiled at Harrison. Tom set the ball between the two teams, in the middle of the two ‘goalposts’ (a.k.a. the cones Tom set up on either side of the yard months ago).

The game began and Harrison was doing his best to block you from getting the ball (and keeping Tom from getting distracted by you). The Hollands were, of course, getting a bit more physical than regular football, kicking each other and shoving a bit, as brothers do. The game was 2-0 with you and the twins winning. When Paddy passed the ball to Harrison, you managed to swipe it from him. You sent it over to Sam and Tom basically slide tackled his brother to get it.

“That’s a foul!” You shouted as Sam landed on the grass with a soft ‘thud’.

“Nope!” Tom exclaimed, kicking the ball through Harry’s legs and into the goal. He cheered with Harrison and Paddy while you helped up Sam, who was fine and used to the physicalness of it all. This time, you started off with the ball and Harrison tried to steal it back, but you were too fast in swiftly kicking it to Harry, who Paddy was trying to block.

“Elbow him!” Tom called out, running about in front of Sam to block him.

“Tom,” Nikki said in a warning tone when he started to push Sam back a bit.

“I need to win!” He replied. Harry passed the ball back to you and you dribbled it down the makeshift field.

“Go away!” Sam shoved his older brother, trying to get him out of the way.

“Fine!” Tom huffed, running over to you. Harrison took it as a sign to go block the open twin.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” You asked your boyfriend as he attempted to kick the ball out from your feet, but your movements were too quick for him. You nutmegged him, sending the ball straight through his legs to Harry. Your perfect pass was defeated by Paddy stealing the ball from him. Before you could move to block him, Tom picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

“Go Pads!” He cheered, holding your waist as you kicked your feet in the air.

“Tom, put me down! This is cheating!” You shouted. You felt Tom’s hand shift subtly more to your butt than your hip, making you slap his back. With you caught up with Tom, Paddy scored the goal easily.

“Hey, now, no inappropriate touching in front of the Padster.” Harry teased, seeing his brother’s hand placement.

“Shove off!” Paddy threw the ball over to his curly haired brother.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tom chuckled, setting you down.

“You’re going to regret that.” You told him, before Harry kicked the ball to signal the game was back on. Knowing his distraction would most likely not work again, Tom switched places with Harrison, going back to beating up Sam.

“Food will be done in two minutes.” Dom announced and you all knew that meant this was the speed round. The stakes were high with both teams tied. After a few minutes of Tom basically playing keep away when he finally got the ball, he kicked it over to Paddy. Harry elbowed his brother and sent the ball to you. Not even stopping it to gain control, you kicked it straight at their open goal.

It would’ve gone in and you would’ve won if Tom hadn’t jumped in the way to save it.

“Ah, fuck!” He shouted, grabbing himself while the rest of the boys grimaced and laughed. Even you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing a little at his mistake. Seeing an opportunity to make a goal with everyone paused, Sam kicked the ball in and he and Harry cheered- you won.

“Baby, you alright?” You asked, going over to Tom who was still bent over in pain.

“God, you really were going for payback.” He groaned, but nodded that he was okay.

“We won!” Sam and Harry cheered as everyone sat down around the table with Dom serving up the food.

“I’m sorry you got in the way of my glorious kick.” You told Tom, holding his hand in yours.

“Yeah, it was a really good kick.” He winced a little.

Dinner and dessert with the Hollands + Harrison (the honorary Holland) went on without any more injuries (unless you count Harry shoving a piece of cake in Paddy’s face as a joke). Goodbyes went all around as they left later, and Tom did the rest of the dishes while you cleaned outside.

“You feeling better?” You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, once you finished outside. He stopped his work at the sink.

“Better. I thought you broke it for a few minutes there.” Tom laughed, washing his hands and drying them before turning around in your arms.

“Oh no, we wouldn’t want that.” You teased, “I’d have to go find another dick until it healed.”

“Is that all I am to you? A dick appointment?” He asked with a small laugh, pulling you in closer to him by your waist.

“No, you’re my favorite person in the world.” You smiled at him tenderly as he ran a hand through your hair and rested it on your cheek.

“You’re my favorite person, too.” He leaned down to give you a soft kiss.

The romantic, sweet moment was cut short by his next teasing comment, “You know, that kick was really great. I’m still impressed. You really know your way around balls.”

“Shut up and kiss me, hubby.”

[madhyanas]

there can be no oceans

It's only when the Child needs a bath that Din realises his ship doesn't have one.

Read this on AO3!

Characters: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda

Rating: G

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning(s): One mention of ‘spice’ as a drug. Set sometime soon after Chapter 4: Sanctuary. No spoilers for S2.

Notes: i! want! to write! more! character fics! so take this. thank you @pettyprocrastination for taking the time to read this beforehand <3

masterlist

———

The Crest wasn’t built for children.

Her walkways are narrow, interiors unpainted. Any room not taken up by essential utilities has long since been repurposed for weapons and munitions storage. There are no rounded corners, no softened edges; there is no baby-proofing to speak of. A capsule of robust, sturdy durasteel hurtling through the galaxy.

As reliable as she is, especially in the hands of Din’s capable piloting, the bare minimum the Crest offers to any inhabitants at all is an absence of jagged scrap metal jutting out to be slashed on. Which is as close to a miracle as he’s going to get, considering his ship’s survived being taken apart and stitched back together again.

Sometimes the visor’s sight catches on a slivered scar. The junction between the cockpit and ladder, the panel next to the hatch. He’ll look at it for a second, bumpy and gnarled, remembering the Crest’s shell scattered in pieces across desert rock. He’ll remember his ship, peeled to bits without mercy. Then he’ll brush his fingers over the soldered mark, and walk away.

But despite everything, the Crest is comfortable; Din can admit that her resilience, outlasting her age, is something he’s grown attached to. And when it comes to the very, very mundane, the kid seems to have pretty good instincts — doesn’t dangle over heights, doesn’t stick his hands into sockets and plug ports. His ship, in and of itself, doesn’t pose a threat to the little one. So long as he’s not left in the cockpit unsupervised.

It’s a minor weight off his shoulders that the kid’s content to amuse himself with that gear knob, occasionally gurgling commentary to Din — who has found “Is that so, kid?” to suffice as proof that he’s listening — and offering a satisfied, toothy grin. This is typically the point that Din feels his mouth pulling up into a crinkling smile, fond and proud.

It reminds him of something Omera told him in passing. Din hadn’t understood the phrase at the time, hadn’t ever needed to apply it in his day-to-day.

“You’re lucky,” she’d said knowingly. “He’s an easy baby.”

Thinking of mudhorns and mudjumpers and the kid’s inability to follow instructions, Din didn’t think it made much sense. He understands it now.

But, no — the Razor Crest, being a gunship and not a nanny droid, was not constructed for childcare. In all honesty, this hadn’t really occurred to Din beyond the obvious.

Until the kid needed a bath.

A bath that his ship does not have.

Din sighs, standing in the refresher doorway and staring at the slim sonic shower compartment. The Child waddles in curiously behind him, leaning on his boot with both arms hugging the ankle. He coos up at Din questioningly. There’s a slight twitch of his ears before he raises his arms. Two chubby fists clench and unclench repeatedly, a familiar demand.

Din promptly bends down to pick him up, angling him face forwards to stare at the offending compartment together.

“It’s a sonic shower,” Din explains. He frowns, wondering how to go about this. The kid smacks his lips idly. “Don’t think it’s meant for kids, buddy.”

Those wide, dark eyes suddenly turn to him with hope, but Din’s already shaking his head. “No.”

The kid blinks, multiple times. Din could swear the little monster’s batting his eyelashes. “No. You still need a bath, you’re not getting out of it that easy.”

In his arms, the kid deflates with a huff. His ears droop so quickly they bat against Din’s chest and quiet grumbles buzz through the cloth of his shirt.

It makes Din smile, part-amused and part-relieved. He’s never been very good at the whole ‘disciplinarian’ thing, especially not with a kid that can move things with his mind. It’s difficult to tell where to draw the line between kind and disapproving. He’s probably leaning more into the former.

“We’ll just have to… figure something out.”

He glances to the left. The sink is built into the wall, a nondescript metal bowl with a drain and tap. Din avoids looking at the mirror above. After so many years under the helmet, it doesn’t necessarily feel surreal. It’s simply odd to have visual confirmation of what he looks like.

The kid squirms in his arms, and Din blinks, slowly placing him back on the ground. He shuffles out of the ‘fresher quickly to whichever corner he’s chosen to play in today, his stuffy brown robe dragging slightly on the ground. Maybe that needs to be looked at.

Din looks back to the sink, figuring something out.

———

For all intents and purposes, the sonic shower is useful. Or perhaps that isn’t the right word, considering it just does what it’s supposed to.

It’s efficient, then. A way for Din to stay clean without worrying about the ship’s current water capacity. Whether it’s actually pleasant or not is another question, but one that’s never been important enough to be asked.

Now, though, Din thinks he’ll need to find a more permanent solution.

The sink in the ‘fresher has its own water supply, true. But it’s enough for Din to wash his hands and shave every few weeks at most. Since the New Republic started cracking down on smuggling circuits, the price of water transportation fit for hyperspace has spiked. A popular medium for diluted spice, apparently. So he’s careful with how much he uses up, wary of the ever-dwindling pile of credits to his name.

He kneels down next to the sink, craning his head to check behind a panel and exhaling sharply with the protesting ache of his neck. It’s a small slot for a liquid tanker, and Din soon realises it won’t be enough to fill a cup, much less the whole basin.

It won’t work.

———

This brings him to the next idea. Somewhat quickly, because the kid seems to have gotten into his head that no water means no bath. That’s probably bad handling on Din’s part.

There are sealed tanks of water stored in a hull compartment. Bulk-purchased and potable, for prolonged journeys and adverse conditions. Tanks that he’s loath to crack open when there’s water available elsewhere.

He lugs one into the fresher, and when he feels his lower back twinge with the effort, he makes sure to bear the brunt of the weight with his legs. Then his knees begin to strain. He sighs.

He passes by the kid on the way, sitting on the floor and gnawing on his metal ball with intense focus and adoration. He looks up at the sound of Din approaching, tilting his head sweetly at the tall canister.

Din takes it as a question, so he answers. “No idea, kid.”

When he does, finally, manage to shove the tank in the refresher and pour as much of it as he can into the sink’s water supply tube, the Child follows. His head turns from the half-empty tank, to Din, and back to the tank. As the ears swish with every movement, like palm leaves twitching and swaying in the breeze, Din watches the gears turn patiently. It’ll click.

Then the kid thwacks a hand on Din’s thigh, and very insistently garbles something with a firm nod. His approval is understood.

Din smiles. Lets it linger on his face, melt in his chest so warmly he can nearly ignore his aching joints. Gently, he places a hand on the little one’s head, rubbing the spot between his ears and eliciting a fond coo. “Thanks.”

———

That good mood doesn’t last very long when the kid realises, eventually, that bath time has arrived.

———

A tragic wail cuts through the Razor Crest.

From where he’s held over the ‘fresher sink, the kid screeches in Din’s hands, kicking his little legs in the air and keeping a vice grip on Din’s sleeves. Even the ears — those huge, petal bat-ears — are wiggling up and down in his efforts to escape.

“Hey,” Din says. He tries for stern, but it comes out mostly tired. “Hey. Stop that.”

The kid is either ignoring him, or just can’t hear it over the racket he’s making. He scrunches his eyes closed with newfound vigour and shrieks so loud it rings in Din’s ears. He winces.

The Crest’s refresher is built into a cramped corner of the hull. Fitted with a sonic shower, privy, sink and mirror, Din’s fairly certain there are graves dug bigger than this.

It’s never mattered before, since Din spends so little of his time in here anyway, but now he’s stuck in a broom closet — a metal one, with solid, echoing walls — with a screaming child.

Din sighs, with feeling. His headache, which hasn’t let up since the jump into hyperspace, throbs heavily behind his eyes and between his ears. For a second, he toys with the idea of turning off the helmet’s auditory sensors.

The kid had more or less been fine at first. From filling the sink to fetching the soap — a standard, unscented brand that Din only really stores for handwashing — to barely managing to tug his robe over those oversized ears. The kid had insisted on doing that last one himself, until he’d stumbled with the shift in centre of gravity and bowled himself over.

He’d been fine, until his stubby, clawed toes first dipped in the water.

It’s remarkable, Din realises as he looks down at the distraught child dangling from his hands. The kid hasn’t really cried for… for anything till now. At the most, Din just gets a dry, unamused look whenever he hasn’t followed the little overlord’s express wishes. Like eating wild frogs off the ground. Womp rat.

Hearing the repercussions now, it might not have been remarkable so much as just lucky. How does one so small have lungs so strong?

“All right,” Din calls. Trying to be gentle yet also heard over the noise at the same time is a challenge, so it comes out somewhat choked.

At his voice, the kid takes a breather. Literally, his round body heaves in Din’s hands, gasping for breath after his tantrum. Din eyes the tear tracks streaming from his wide, dark eyes, and his sniffling little nose. He can feel the kid’s ribcage pushing in and out rapidly beneath his fingers, stretchy like a balloon fitting in the palm of his hand. He hadn’t forgotten how tiny the kid is but — a lump settles in his throat at the reminder.

He feels his face fall. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, unsure of what he’s pleading for but feeling as if he’s wronged the Child anyway. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it would upset you so much.”

Whether it’s his tone or the words themselves, something brings the kid to peace. Though still hiccuping, his breathing evens out.

“That’s it,” Din encourages. “Deep breaths.”

He inhales, lifting his head and shoulders slightly with the movement to demonstrate, before lowering on the exhale.

The Child watches him for a moment, blinking wetly, before doing the same. His ears perk up and down with every breath. “That’s it,” Din repeats.

When he’s reasonably sure the Child won’t start bawling again, Din takes a second to rearrange the kid into sitting balanced on his forearm, facing him towards the mirror. With the other hand rubbing circles into the kid’s back, he addresses the reflection.

“Listen,” he starts seriously. The kid looks up, watching the helmet in the mirror’s shiny surface. “I get that you don’t like it. And I’m sorry I upset you. But you need a bath, so we have to figure something out.”

Din swallows, wondering how they’re going to do just that. The kid, in the meantime, clutches the shirt of Din’s sleeve in two grubby claws and starts chewing, not taking his eyes off the helmet for a second.

Just as he’s about to ask the kid to stop, or at least lay off a little so the fabric doesn’t tear, he gets an idea.

———

In the recent past, Din can’t really remember when things last went his way. So he’s almost confused when the third time really is the charm.

“That’s all it took, huh?”

The kid happily ignores him, watching the gear knob through the shallow, mildly-soaped water with fascination. He stares straight down, his ears sticking up like fresh reeds from a pond, enamoured with the sight of his favourite thing underwater. The concentration he uses to roll it around with both hands softens the corners of Din’s mouth.

You’d never guess the little womp rat was raising hell just minutes before.

Fetching the gear knob from outside was a last resort. He’d been grasping at straws, willing to take anything that would calm the kid down.

And it worked. Leading Din to scrub the bar of soap between his hands, trailing suds through the clouding water.

The temperature suits the kid just fine, apparently. With no way to heat the basin, Din had just… waited for it to get more or less lukewarm. Not ideal, not by a long shot. He’d clenched his jaw, uncomfortable and awkward in the face of yet another reminder that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Standing around doing nothing didn’t sit well with him. At one point he half-seriously considered getting the flamethrower out to speed things along.

But the Child, naturally, didn’t seem to mind. He now slaps his hands into his bird-bath pool with delight, relishing in the waves he can create. The pale, fuzzy hairs on that wrinkly head don’t so much as twitch, and Din has to wonder if the kid’s leathery skin has something to do with that tolerance.

A bubble wobbles into the air, fragile and translucent. A dark, watery gaze snaps to it immediately — the kind of precision only reserved for mudjumpers. The kid stills, and the gear knob is momentarily forgotten in favour of biting through the air to catch the floating parlour trick between sharp, pointy teeth.

Pop. Smack on the kid’s mouth. A light burst of soap residue sprays on the kid’s face, and the squeak of a sneeze he lets out pushes him an inch backwards in the basin.

Din can’t imagine how a thing could be that tiny.

“Nice job,” he offers quietly, because a successful hunt is something to be praised. He gives the kid’s face a once-over — with eyes so big, it’s impressive that the soap missed them entirely. The kid whines disagreeably; he evidently doesn’t care much for the flavour. His button nose wrinkles, and he bounces again with a cough.

Din chuckles. The sound rings in time with water sloshing over the lip of the sink.

“Maybe save the hunting for outside,” he advises, patting the kid on the back. The Child looks up at him mournfully, as if to agree, before returning to the gear knob resting by his foot. A new game is begun; shoving the metal ball so that it rolls halfway up the sink’s bowl before returning straight back, like magic. Every metallic scrape brings a new ripple of laughter.

He should be more mindful of how there’s more water on the floor than in the basin, now. But there are always more tanks in the brig.

In a series of excited, comprehensive babbles, the kid begins explaining the rules of his new game to Din, who listens closely. He interjects here and there to show the kid as much, but is otherwise just a spectator to the kid’s lecture.

Then for a moment, without thought, he looks up. Straight ahead, into the mirror. And he almost can’t recognise the sight.

It’s his helmet, obviously. Comforting; beskar gleaming as much as the day it was first given to him. Unchanged. Same height, same clothes.

But his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, baring inches of skin and several wiry scars. The front of his dark, woven shirt is darker still with the water lapping over the sink’s edge, a sodden patch forming over his abdomen. He feels some of it drip onto his boots and the floor. His hands are covered in suds, tenderly but thoroughly scrubbing the edge of one floppy green ear.

The kid, sitting satisfied and unaware with his cherished toy, makes the image look complete.

Din looks at the man in the mirror, giving his son a bath in the sink. He thinks that his image probably needed a reset anyway.

Then, with something caring and delicate fluttering in his chest, he moves on to the baby’s claws. He makes sure to scrub between the fingers.

———

[stevenbasic]

“Knock-knock!” I heard at the door of my office, startling me. I was nearly - jesus - an hour into this video call with the Study Coordinator from Evolution, and had obviously lost track of time.  “Where’s my favorite patient?!?’ called the voice. It was Vida, my Nurse Practitioner, entering with a broad smile, a procedure tray and someone else and causing me to look up from my computer screen. “Time for your mediciiine…” In place of her usual white clinic jacket, she was wearing a tailored black jacket over a black, figure-hugging, dress, cut low.

Immediately I said my abrupt goodbyes to Gianna, over chat, and shut down the window right as she was, good lord, blowing me a kiss. At the same time I looked up and gave my wan smile of greeting to Vida and the generously curvy blond woman who’d entered with her…

“This is Morgan, if you two haven’t met yet,” Vida said, as she briskly approached my desk, high heels clacking. Trailing behind her a few steps was a woman in a white blouse and tan leggings - a big woman - broad of shoulder, wide of hip, huge of chest, standing taller than Vida by five or six inches...and myself even more, “She’s a Nurse Practitioner too, from Evolution until just yesterday, when she joined us.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Dr. J…” Morgan purred, in a voice deeper, richer than Vida’s. There was a queer smile on her face and a hint of a vaguely Eastern European accent in her words, one that she was obviously trying to hide. For now she was hanging back, taking her cues from Vida as the younger but more senior woman began to prepare her tray behind my desk to my left. “Nurse Vida is training me today how to take the care of you.”

“H-hi, uh, Morgan,” I replied, immediately sensing that that was not this woman’s given name, and remembering it was time again for my booster shot. The thought, for some reason, brought me a little thrill, remembering how it made me feel last week…but was it also responsible for the 8 pounds I’d lost since then? “But, um, what do you m-”

Interrupting my concerns, Vida chuckled. “Oh, don’t get worried, doc. I just figured that the more of us that know how to do this for you, the better,” she explained, opening the strange black box in which the vitamin B12/D/K booster vial was packaged. I noticed the familiar, strange blue tint of the liquid as Vida removed it along with the pre-packaged syringe. “And Morgan here has lots of experience.” At that, Vida nodded up at Morgan; the larger woman took that as a cue to move around the other side of my desk, to my right, and come to stand alongside me there. I was flanked.

“I-is that right, Morgan?” I asked, hearing the nerves starting to quiver in my voice. I hated needles, I hated them. But this single, combination shot was much better than three separate ones. “Wh-what did you do at Evolution?” I asked, not able to recall her resume as I looked up at her; she was gazing down at me, over the shelf of her formidable bosom. I was hoping that, if she had started seeing patients today, that she had been more buttoned up during the workday. The cleavage she was showing at this moment, over the neckline of her overmatched white blouse, was vast.

“At the Evolution Pharmaceuticals?” she replied, the accent in her voice unable to camouflage itself through the words, “There, I was with research team, taking care of study subjects. But before, I was in pediatrics ward, with preemies, the NICU.” She looked down on me with a crooked smile, and seemed to be resisting reaching out her hand to me. Instead, she ran her fingers through her shoulder-length blond hair. “I love holding little bodies.”

“Haha well, that’s exactly why we’re here, isn’t it, Dr. J?” Vida added, explaining to Morgan and pursing her full, plump, latin lips, “This young man has lost a few inches recently and we need to make sure he gets his vitamins.” With that, Vida beamed down at me and released  her thick mane of dark hair from the conservative bun she’d been wearing for the workday. A wave of the now-ubiquitous perfume in this place flowed over me, and I felt a stirring between my legs. I had been intermittently hard during my video call with Gianna - her tits were unbelievable - and I was afraid now that I might swell to some obvious, inappropriate monster of a boner with these women so close. “Lucky for him he has his girls to take care of him,” Vida concluded. The vial and syringe, for the moment, laid inert on the tray.

I tried to focus. ”I, heh heh, don’t know if I need someone to ‘take care of me’...” I spoke, trying to sound relaxed as Morgan’s left hand finally did come to rest on my right shoulder. I’d honestly just met this woman, but she was being very…familiar. Vida as well; she was generally a bit more aloof than she seemed today. It was like there was something weird in the air, something bringing them closer.

“That's silly,” Vida responded, “Even doctors need someone to look after them.” At that, she began to remove her black jacket, and laid it on my desk, as if preparing herself for her task. Underneath she wore a clingy black tube dress that hugged her hourglass figure and revealed her trim shoulders and the upper swells of her full chest; she watched as I struggled not to look at her body. “Who do you see for a PCP?”

“uh…” I began, trying to recall my last visit to a doctor’s office outside of this one, “…no one?”

“You mean…” Vida asked with exaggerated concern, as she herself put a hand on my other shoulder, leaning in to me and twirling a lock of thick, raven hair, “you don’t have a Primary??”

“N-no I, uh-“

”Well, that’s no good,” Vida concluded, standing straight and looking across me at her fellow nurse, “Don't you agree, Morgan?”

”Oh yes,” Morgan concurred, her dimpled smile betraying her amusement, stepping a touch closer, “You need the primary...care...provider.”

“That settles it,” Vida decided, removing her right hand from me to place both it and her left one on her broad hips, in determination, “I’m going to be your PCP from now on.” Her action had drawn my eyes to her remarkably tiny waist and shit this girl had some curves. “I’ll contact our insurance company, do all the paperwork. How does that sound?”

The big woman to my right was giggling, and her hand had begun to idly caress my shoulder.

“Uh, th-that’s fine…” I agreed.

“So,” Vida finally asked, with a wry smile, “does my patient have any questions before we get started?”

Ugh, right…the injection. “Well, um, honestly…” I began, knowing I should at least address the concerns I had over this combo B12/D/K formulation, “I’m not sure it’s working. I think I’ve lost weight since last week, and even maybe almost an inch…”

“That’s ridiculous. You must have measured wrong last time, used a bad scale,” Vida replied, trying to reassure me, “But…do you think you need to go out and get checked..?”

At that, Vida herself moved in closer, and I saw Morgan, to my right, turn her thick body more towards me. Both women looked down at me.

“Or do you want to let us take care of you..?” Vida finished. It felt like a challenge, and I sensed something, an inner struggle inside myself. The logical, intelligent practitioner who cared for his health wanted to answer one way, bring a halt to something that was dangerous, possibly ruining my life. But another part of me, the one that was feeling the cock growing once again down my right thigh in tribute to the ever-more enveloping warmth of these women, just wanted to say-

“n-no…I think I’m alright,” I answered, “let’s go ahead with the shot. I’ll be fine.”

If I had known then what I know now, that my mental capacity for rational thought in the face of arousal had been already crippled by foreign agents? If I had known that I was being purposefully enslaved, drowned more and more every day in the sea of pheromones and womanly curves in which I swam? WelI, I would have run screaming. Or, then again...would I?.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Vida assured me. Her voice had dropped low, almost hypnotic, “You don’t need to go out and see any other specialists. We’ve got everything you need right here…” She was beginning to prepare the injection, now, drawing the blue liquid from the vial up into the syringe.

“Yes, everything,” Morgan agreed, looming over me now so close to my right, her hips and belly blocking out the world behind her. Her scent was warm, earthy. Between it and Vida’s reassuring tone, I felt powerless to do anything but trust these women.

“But,” Vida began again, inspecting the now-filled glass syringe, “if you are still shrinking, lots of guys would be jealous. Don’t you think, Morgan? Here, take this-” She handed a band-aid across me to her fellow nurse.

wh-what?

“Oh, yes,” Morgan concurred, her voice husky, unwrapping the band-aid, preparing it, “very jealous.”

”What…what do you mean?” I asked, confused, looking from one woman to the next, up at them. Without even being told, I had begun rolling up my sleeve.

Vida chuckled. “Oh, you know, the whole ‘vulni-chic’ thing,” she answered, holding the prepared injection now in her right hand, “you’d get very popular if you lost another-“

“One meter?” Morgan said, giggling in her deeper, richer tone, “Two?”

“haha I’d disappear…” I joked, feeling a wave of warmth coming from Morgan’s body to my right, “just like, haha…”

“It’s not a joke, Dr. J,” Vida said, her voice plain, suddenly, clinical, “it’s a thing. Here, get ready-“

“Ouch!!!”

She’d jabbed me, in the left shoulder, with the shot.

Vida spoke as she pressed the plunger, pushing the blue liquid into my deltoid. “It’s not just a fad for women, guys these days are admitting it, too…” she said as she drew the needle out of my arm. Immediately I’d felt it entering my body, like a milky warmth. “Good boy,” she praised, “Band aid?”

“Thanks,” I replied without thinking, watching as Morgan leaned her big torso across me as I turned in my chair towards her, presenting my left shoulder. She was nearly smothering me with her big breasts as she applied the bandage, and I did everything I could not to goggle at the wobbling flesh of her full, tan cleavage. My roving eyes made me realize that this generously endowed woman was wearing a very thin bra, or possibly none at all. Somehow, though, she was still so firm, with a natural buoyancy that kept her tits high and proud on her chest. My gaze could not get enough. But then eyes fluttered as I was assaulted by both an overwhelming breath of her perfume and the first rush of pleasure from the shot. I began to lower my sleeve, rubbing my arm as I looked up at her, smiling down at me as she finally stood up and away.

“I mean it, with the shrinking,” Vida started again, watching me with an appraising eye as I recovered from my shot, buttoned my sleeve, “have you seen Melissa’s new Instagram post?”

With the butterflies? I didn’t want to admit anything.

“The guys that follow her, the simps,” she continued, “they talk about wanting to be like bugs, crawling into her breasts.” She was replacing the syringe, carefully putting it and the vial back into the box. “It’s all over the place, everywhere, though no ones really talking about it yet,” she said, as she closed the black container, “guys wanting to be smaller, weaker than us. Wanting to become inferior, more passive, more submissive.”

She looked down at me and smiled, watching as the effects of the injection began to take hold. Even more strongly than last time, I was being gripped by a pleasant wave of lethargy, relaxation.

“Guys want to be small, these days,” Vida said, “and we’d like it that way too, wouldn’t we, Morgan?””

To my right I heard Morgan purr, a little grunt. “Yes, Nurse Vida,” she said, her voice low and struggling with arousal, “we would like it very much.” I had the feeling she was holding back her true feelings, in restrained understatement.

Vida laughed, casually. “It’s weird, all these changes in gender dynamics,” she continued, brushing a lock of my hair behind my left ear, “the new thing is bigger women, smaller men. Here, look at Morgan, perfect example…”

I turned, looked up at the smiling behemoth of a woman.

“She’s probably bigger than you ever were,” Vida continued, “taller, heavier, thicker everywhere.”

“Yes,” Morgan agreed, seeming to rise up, grow bigger, heavier, right in front of my eyes, “I weigh much, much more than the you.”

“And, you have to admit…” Vida asked, watching me look up at the huge, busty blond woman, who was now absolutely dwarfing me in my seat and could probably lift me like a child, “that’s kinda sexy, right?”

“I, uh….” I began, not knowing what to say. My erection was getting painful, now, contorted as it was in my pants, trying to stretch down my right thigh.

Vida spoke again, now holding my head in place by my cheek and jaw, so all I saw was Morgan. “So, even if you are getting smaller...lots of us would like that.”

I sat there, in the building afterglow of my injection, and looked at this woman’s body. It was, in all ways, so much bigger than my own. Thicker thighs, wider hips. Her arms were stronger than mine, her shoulders broader. Standing aside her, I would look puny. Even Vida - though she stood roughly my height, maybe an inch or two more - her hourglass figure and womanly hips made her body just that much more than mine.

”Dr. J,” Vida said, pulling me from my reverie, but not releasing my face from her hand’s gentle embrace, “You look like you need to go lay down. We’d take you up to bed ourselves but we have an important girl meeting to get to, don’t we Morgan?”

“Yes,” Morgan replied, though never taking her eyes or dimpled smile from me, “Very important.” I watched as she looked down on me, regarded me, considered me. “But I promise. Next time you can go to the sleep in my lap,” she said, “I have a very nice lap.” With that, Morgan bent at the waist a bit, to gently slap her prodigious thighs. My eyes watched them jiggle, and then her hands come up to the collar of her blouse, hoisting her breasts. “Or, if not on lap, we find somewhere else…”

“Haha okay,” Vida laughed, finally releasing my head but smiling as I didn’t turn away from the cleavage into which I was now dumbly gazing, in my vitamin-fueled haze imagining myself sinking into it like a caterpillar, cocooned in womanly warmth. “I’ll get a couple of the MA’s to get you upstairs…”

=========================================

more Vida & Morgan imagery, more posts, more more more at my Patreon.

Thanks for reading, everyone.

[jaybirbwrites]

Hello, i was looking through tumblr in the sense to find something interesting and found your account, i then wondered if i could get a dc match up from you if posible?

I’m Ghost, I am Aquarius born, ISTP personality, and I’m panromantic with a male lean, with any pronouns.

im 5’5, shoulder length blonde, pale ivory skin tone, Grunge aesthetic and Green/hazel eyes, I have been told by a few of my friends that I look like a middle age man who either only drinks coffee or whiskey.

I have trust issues, I tend to be stand off-ish to people and prefer to be alone in dark and quite places, though I am open and happy around people I feel like I can trust, I’m a bit chaotic and tend to get out of hand when it comes to things I am passionate about, and I like to have deep meaningful conversations with people.

I like most parts of nature, like flowers, bugs, animals, and the sounds, my favourite foods are anything veggie or fruit and sweets, I listen too Grunge, emo, rock, metal, and punk bands, I do a lot of art, i enjoy drawing plants and my ocs, In my free time I do art, I read, write, and watch anime, some of my favourites are Death parade, demon slayer, and skate the infinity, I play a lot of video games, like Resident evil(I love anything horror and gory), danganronpa, and legend of Zelda:Breath of the wild.

I hate jerks, bullies, people that are clingy and/or loud, I dislike red meats, I have Emetophobia and Trypanophobia, and I hate going out to public places like stores and restaurants for long perriods of type.

bye, have a good day/night

This took me way longer than I would have liked, but here I am with a match-up!!

I wasn't exactly sure the specifics of the DC Universe you wanted, so I kind of just? Grabbed from my own Fanon?? I hope that's okay!! I tend to write characters from DC by taking my favorite aspects from all of their respective canons, so I hope you still enjoy and that it's what you were looking for!

That all being said, I present to you....

Jason Todd

Okay in my mind this seems like it's probably expected, but I promise I was thinking of a lot of other characters and it just didn't seem right

You two just,,, work?

So well?

I think it's the grunge aesthetic and looking like all you drink is coffee and whiskey for the most part

Mostly because he's basically the same way

He's also pretty obviously a standoffish person, and I definitely think that's what would make him want to get to know you more, and once he did... wow

Like you, he's an extroverted introvert

He can be quite as well, but once you get him going he's the life of the party and I definitely think you'd both bring some.. we'll say fun, to the Wayne Charity Galas that Bruce hosts

Not only that, but you both like basically the same kinds of music as well, and I can see you both jamming in his apartment together

You also mentioned that you do art, and while I definitely don't think Jason can draw, he absolutely would adore watching you do it

I mean, this man had straight A's before he died and he's definitely a huge nerd for literature and the arts

He definitely plays piano sometimes too when you'd draw

He's also an avid reader, and would always want to suggest books to you and take your suggestions on books to read

Likewise, he'd also offer to read whatever you were writing too

Not just to be nice, but because he's very curious to see what you're even putting on the page

He definitely plays games with you all the time, and on any co-op games he always makes it a challenge

He has to win, even if there's no winner in that game

In instances where you both just want to chill out, he'd offer a picnic in the park

Probably not Gotham's though

If anything he'd take you through the Zeta Tube to Central City, or Metropolis, where it's much nicer and sunnier than Gotham City

There you both can people watch from under a tree, and enjoy the nature and calm

I imagine Jason is an amazing cook and baker

It's one of my favorite headcanons to be honest

So he definitely made some Alfred-level sandwiches for you both, and he made your favorite dessert

Lots of veggies and fruits on the side as well, and your favorite drinks

Probably also gives you your favorite flowers as well, just to be the cheesy romantic that he is

Lastly, you mention that you hate clingy people

Jason can definitely be clingy, but he also 100% knows your boundaries and respects them

If you want to cuddle and be close, he's all up for that

When you want your space, he respects it and doesn't push it either

Same with him being loud

He won't be around you, but with his family it's kind of a given - lots of yelling, goofing off, throwing things at one another most likely

But he doesn't get you involved in it all since he knows you don't like loud people

All in all, Jason would absolutely adore you and you both would get along really well imo

That's all for this!! I hope you enjoy it :)

If not please feel free to send another ask and I'll do something else!

My ask box is also open, so anyone who sees this - feel free to ask away! My pinned post has some of the things I do, so just check that out!

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Reviewing Adventure Time graphic novel: “Thunder Road”

 by Jeremy Sorese (Steven Universe comic writer) and Zachary Sterling (Adventure Time main comic artist)

Okay, so after purchasing and reading it today, I can safely say the DESCRIPTION of this graphic novel is ENTIRELY INCORRECT: 

Marceline starts feeling restless and comes across a motorcycle gang of storm clouds. Taking this as a chance to try something new, Marceline sets off on the open road with her new friends but things take a turn when she realizes that the storm clouds might be taking things a bit too far when it comes to their pranks. Marceline has to make a choice, to join in and create a natural disaster bigger than Ooo has ever seen or to go back to her boring quiet life--luckily, the answer comes from an unexpected source who just happened to be trailing the clouds...for research, of course.

No, nonono. This doesn’t even remotely resemble what happens. 

Actually, there is still a motorcycle gang, but this isn’t really a book about Marceline - it’s mostly about a drama with Bubblegum, and how she ends up taking her frustration out on Marceline. It’s about some difficulties they have communicating with each other, too. 

The Candy Kingdom is being flooded by non-stop rain. Jake is acting as a giant canopy to try and protect the castle, but it’s not working, and everything is falling apart - candy people are getting seriously injured, and it seems this has been going on for weeks. Everybody is exhausted, and things are looking dire. This was an eerily familiar situation for me, living in the RCT, which got demolished by flooding last February before the Corona crisis, and which is still recovering.  They’re all working together to solve this crisis, and PB is glad to see Marceline caring about other people. Marceline flies up in the sky and discovers a motorcycle gang is making the clouds rain down. 

PB is entirely at her wits end, she yells at the motorcycle gang, gets bullied by them, and decides to challenge them to a race. If she wins, they leave. If they win, then they will drive all over the Candy Kingdom and destroy it. Bubblegum gets incredibly angry at herself for making such a reckless bet, when she’ll have to race in the goddamn sky, and she insists this problem is her fault, so she needs to solve it by herself.

Marceline gets fed up that PB wants to solve it by herself and is pushing her away, so as a ploy of reverse psychology she says, “Fine, I WON’T help”, and flies away to investigate the gang further.

Bubblegum thinks Marcie has fucked off and ditched them. Marceline hasn't actually given up on her - she tries to perform some secret reconnaissance, befriending the gang and sabotaging their bikes. Marceline returns bits of cloud to the kingdom as well, to a still-bitter PB who won’t thank her.  However, things turn for the worse when the biker gang discover the bikes were damaged, and they confront PB about the sabotage, with Marceline's life possibly on the line.

Thankfully, the gang let Marceline go. Bubblegum proper goes off on Marceline for not trusting her to be able to do things by herself, while Marceline says that she should have just accepted help in the first place. They have a falling out. Marceline is upset that PB keeps taking out her anger on her, and lashes out a bit, tells PB this is her fault so she’s on her own. 

Shenanigans ensue. After a tense and highly dangerous bike race, Bubblegum manages to scrape a victory - without Marceline’s help - due to electromagnetic shenanigans with her cloud bike’s fuel tank.

I don’t want to post images of the race, because it has some awesome moments that I want you to see for yourself in the novel. 

However, she realises she had accidentally cheated, and apologises to Marceline for taking everything out on her earlier - she says that it shouldn’t be that way, that she shouldn’t just get mad at Marceline whenever she’s stressed.   

She tells Marcie that she doesn't want to treat her like shit every time she has a bad day.

They have a motorbike race. PB forgets Marceline can fly, and drives off a cliff to save her. Marceline ends up saving PB. Lots of cute moments. 

It turns out, also, that PB has become a bit of a legend in the sky biker community. 

[EDIT: I just realised the jackets say “We Talked It Out”! They’re proud that they were able to have a conversation about their problems! Awwwww]

So, this comic seems to take place during season 6. Most likely between The Cooler and Hot Diggety Doom - when PB is still kind of hyper-aggro and overworked, but is trying to cool down, and when Marceline hasn’t learnt how to communicate properly with her.   At the same time, the stakes are high enough that it does make sense for the characters to behave in this way at ANY time after Sky Witch, provided it’s not after the series finale.    Finn, notably, still has his right arm. He doesn’t pick up a sword. If he did, I might have been able to directly tell where this fit in the show’s continuity.  

Anyway, it’s outstanding. Easily the best of the Adventure Time graphic novels I’ve read. What I loved is how tense the situation really felt, how the emotions the characters were feeling were extensions of what they would feel if this happened in the show. It didn’t feel out of character for PB to be breaking down and acting like a tool, or for Marceline to be secretive and indirect, and then lash out a bit when PB hurts her. It was an awesome character study on their relationship and how it could have its toxic moments.   The situation seemed genuinely dire. The biker gang were genuinely hateable and intimidating. The threat they made to the characters felt real, which is rare for this show. And the emotional moments hit me hard.  It works super well after watching Obsidian, wherein you saw PB in the past take her anger out on Marcie and how that contributed to their breakup. 

It also has Marcie and PB racing around on motorbikes, which is funny because that's what they did in Obsidian.

You can tell that Jeremy Sorese did work on SU comic stuff, because he does a good job at capturing those brief emotions, those epic moments, that SU did so well. This comic is also more dramatic than the usual AT flare. 

The art is okay. It is in graphic novel format, and it’s meant to look a lot like the show. It is nice and colourful. It is clean, and sells emotions perfectly fine. However, Zachary Sterling has historically had issues drawing the arms of the characters - he makes them look far too much like stiff bendy tubes, when they are more free-form and can bend at full right-angles in the show. I feel like he was trying to stay too on-model, and didn’t take his art to its full potential. Some panels are also recycled and slightly edited. 

8/10 - A good read for fans of PB and Marcy, a plot with convincing tension from the first page, with an interesting character study on how PB’s stress can cause her to hurt the people closest to her and she needs to manage that.  However, the description on the back of the book is entirely incorrect for no reason. Well worth the £11 I spent to get a paperback copy sent today. 

You can buy a copy on Amazon for same day delivery. You used to be able to buy a copy on Comixology, but for some reason, it’s been removed. 

[theoriginalladya]

Look at me. You’re gonna be okay (writing prompt)

Okay, so @jedirangerpenguin asked me two of the Protective Prompts found here last night, and I have one done but not the other.  So, rather than make you wait, my dear, I’ll post this one separately and then respond to the ask with the second one when I get there.

Pairing:  ABBOATS    Abby Williams, Major (Ryan) Coats

Setting: London, England, 2186 during the Reaper War

On AO3 here

Look at me.  You’re gonna be okay.

“Commander?”  The voice – his voice – is soft, a hiss and barely audible, but she hears it. Just loud enough to catch her attention as he seeks her out, but not to give away their position.  

Her eyes squeeze shut as Abby grimaces; not because he spoke and it was loud enough to hear, but because the rush of pain coursing through her body just then makes far too much of a challenge to focus on anything else right now.  If she opens her mouth, instead of the whisper required in order to keep their location secret, the scream prying for freedom at the back of her throat will escape. She can’t… can’t give in to that right now.  Not here. Not now.

Something brushes against her arm and her she inhales sharply through her nose as her eyes fly open.  Everything is a blur at first, but there’s nothing to be done for it.  Again, not here.  

“Williams?”  

She draws in a deeper, slower breath this time and nods.  He might not see the movement, but he’s beside her.  It’s enough to give her something steady to lean on.  Just for a moment.

That is, until he bumps against her right hip, jarring it, and sending another wave of pain arcing through her with such intensity she literally buries her face in the chest of his armor to muffle the cry she cannot hold in.  His hands tighten around her arms as he hisses, “Abby!”  The warning in his tone is enough; her cry cuts short and her legs give out.  She falls, dead weight, toward the ground.

Impact never comes.  Coats’ hands tighten, preventing her from clattering to the ground.  Denied a connection with asphalt and cement, her armor knocks against his and not quietly.  

Sounds stir to life in the night beyond them, a reminder of the ever-present danger they are in when on a mission.  Coats shifts to her side – her good one, thankfully – and slides one arm around her waist while looping hers around his neck and shoulders.  “What’s with you?” he hisses as they move forward, seeking out safety.

Abby shakes her head, unable to respond.  The agony is just too much.  As they step off a curb, she stumbles and his hand tightens it’s hold, then everything around her goes dark…

~

Consciousness comes slowly.  Abby is only slightly surprised that her eyes open again and with it, the darkness returns.  Can’t have been too long, then.  Though it takes longer than usual for her vision to focus, and the pain is still excruciating, she immediately starts listening.  The only thing she hears are the soft whimpers of a child.  

A child?  She blinks twice more, and her eyes finally clear enough to notice the grey eyes staring back at her. She tries to speak, but his hand covers her mouth.  She blinks again, eyes widening as she realizes the whimpers come from her.  

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been hit?” he hisses.

One of his eyebrows lift before his gaze darts to her hip and then back; she nods, pulling her lip between her teeth and biting down.  She can keep silent while he tends to her injuries.  Hopefully.

Abby knows exactly what he’s doing.  Every soldier gets a course in basic battlefield first aid. At his rank, Coats may well have additional training; she doesn’t know.  Not that it’ll do much good for her situation, though.  Her best recourse is to get back to HQ ASAP and have the medical staff tend to it.  But she’s lost quite a bit of blood and, if the soft grunts Coats can’t hide is an indication, the wound itself isn’t superficial.  

That’s problematic.  Face it, Williams, you may have hit the end of the line here…

She draws in a sharp breath as something cool is applied to her skin.  She recognizes it, though she wants to chastise Coats for resorting to it; it’s a waste for injuries like hers.  Medigel won’t be anywhere near effective as she needs it to be.  

“C’mon, soldier,” he huffs, sliding her arm around his shoulders and neck again, pulling her up to her feet and closer to him. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

She tastes blood as she bites down on her lip. “Leave me,” she breathes, unable to put weight on the leg.  “I’m just slowing you down.”

Without stopping, he half drags, half carries her along with him.  Stubborn bastard, aren’t you?  “If I leave you here, you’re as good as dead.”

“And if you don’t,” she counters, “we both are.”

They stumble through the shadows again, making up for lost time as they head east using the old Tube tunnels and train lines as a guide.  Even if they could make it back tonight – and in her current condition, that’s not very likely – there’s no guarantee she isn’t too far gone as it is.  Plus, it’s a hell of a long trip, and as slowed down as they will be, a far greater chance for the reapers to catch up to them.  

Coats drags them into the shadows between two nearby buildings before he speaks again, and even then, it isn’t above a hoarse whisper near her ear.  "I’m not leaving you here, Abbs.”

Abbs.  Fuck, he’s not listening!  “But –”

Even in the shadows, surrounded by night skies on all sides, she can’t miss the dogged determination that fills the steel grey of his eyes.  “Not happening.  Now, belt up and –”

In the distance, the familiar snarls and growls they’ve come to associate with husks and other reaper creatures drift ever closer.  Abby places her hands on his chest and shoves him with all the strength she has in that moment which, granted, isn’t much.  “Go!  Save yourself!”

He captures her chin in his hand and forces her to look up at him.  She would look away if she could, but the intensity there refuses to let go.  “Look at me,” he insists as he uses his free hand to brush some of her hair back from her eyes.  “You’re gonna be okay.  I promise."

She has no reasonable explanation for it, but in that moment, she believes him…

[bubmyg]

idcilh (4) - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre/warnings: youtuber!au, sickening fluff, ft guk’s glasses

word count: 1,560

summary: “these have been done before but I don’t care I love her” - a series on gcguk in which jeongguk tackles old, cheesy YouTube couple challenges. episode four: boyfriend does makeup challenge or please stop laughing you’re creasing my masterpiece. 

a/n: s/o to the angel that is @gukniverse​ that inspired me to write this one uwu

“I’m not sitting in your lap.”

“It would be easier.”

“No, it would not.”

“...what if I—”

“Do not touch my legs.”

“Baby!” 

“Jeongguk!”

He pouted, ring light reflecting in the wide frame of his glasses and masking a bit of the stars in his irises that normally would render you useless in denying his wagers. It didn’t help that he pressed his cheek into his shoulder, palm on the space between your thighs to lean closer to you. 

After a moment, Jeongguk asked gently, “Can you at least come closer?”

A devastating smile overtook his features when you shifted, leaving enough space to turn completely toward him to fold your legs at the ankle. You sighed, do your worst, and you couldn’t keep up the faux annoyance when he excitedly wiggled a bit on the couch cushion before diving for the array of products you’d laid out on the coffee table. 

You watched Jeongguk fiddle quietly through the products, making offhanded comments here and there for the blinking camera stationed in front of you. You heard him but you didn’t comprehend him, instead convinced that if someone were to see you, they’d mistaken your features for one giant beam of sunshine, overly endeared with the way he was muttering to himself in between camera friendly comments until he finally settled on a container and a brush. 

He blinked, eyes round and lips fished into a little button, demanding, “What? What—” and when you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, he broke into tiny giggles as well, ones that started with his cheeks bunching up underneath his glasses, eyes wrinkling, lips spreading outward last. 

“Nothing,” You grit your teeth to keep your grin in place, “Tell everyone why you’ve got your glasses on.”

Jeongguk flushed a bit into dabbing the tip of your widest brush into the pan of powder, narrowing his eyes underneath his fringe, “Because I need to be able to see for this video. Obviously.”

“Noo,” You sang, drawing out syllables and nudging his leg with your foot, “Because I told you that you look cute—”

He silenced you with one sharp jab of the brush against your cheek. The dust went everywhere, falling into your lips and you spluttered while he continued to laugh. 

“Oops,” Jeongguk shrugged, teeth capturing his bottom lip when you glared at him. Gentle knuckles brushed across your skin, moving to set his pinky underneath your jaw to tilt your face up for careful brushstrokes, a far cry from the first, “Sit still.”

You waited until he was two taps into your powder foundation to murmur, “You’re starting with this?”

“Is this wrong? Is there something—” He looked over his shoulder at the other products he’d shuffled around before settling into set shoulders, “—you know what, no. Silence from the peanut gallery and let the master work.”

You let your eyes roll up when he rolled the soft black brush underneath your right eyelid. “The beauty community is terrified, truly.”

There was an utter gentleness in the way he went about it, cradling the balance of your face on the feathered end of his fingertips, barely brushing the fibers of the brush to the surface of your skin, using the edge of his thumb to make minor touch ups. Moments of concentration had him zoning out, circled eyes inspecting your features with parted lips to complete the three shapes dominating the majority of his face, only an outline to the round shape of his nose. 

Periodically, Jeongguk would make a noise in his throat, varying in tone and volume, only enough to catch your attention before his lips were on the space just off the side of your nose. You sighed each time, letting him have his fun because, again, you were overly fond of your lovesick fool of a boyfriend. That is, until the one time he caught you off guard, hand engulfed on your opposite cheek while his lips caught the corner of your mouth again. And again.

And again…

...until you were laughing enough to shove at his shoulder. 

He’d gotten his initial wish. You’d all but ended up in his lap the closer he shifted to you in between trying to figure out blending eye shadow and contour and the thing he’d heard you refer to as baking. Your leg was thrown over his thigh, latter knee bent and resting against his. If you stretched a bit more and scooted forward, you could trap his waist with the lock of your legs. Neither of you were complaining of the predicament. 

“Stop laughing!” Jeongguk chided, immediately leaning to you after the end of your fingers finished shoving. “You’re creasing it…”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” You rolled your lips over your teeth to suppress some of it, cocking an eyebrow when his crooked index finger rested underneath your chin, “Are you almost done?”

Jeongguk hummed, lifting up on his finger to tilt your face toward him. “Yes…” He let his thumb unfurl from his fist, pad tugging on the forced sanction of your bottom lip in your mouth, “I need these though.”

You let your lips loose, half into asking why when his mouth was on yours, lingering for longer than the previous, fleeting pecks had. He hummed happily into the seam of your lips before pulling away, only enough to nudge his nose against your cheek before returning in your line of sight with a shy smile. 

“Lipstick,” Jeongguk provided to your previously cut short question, raising the small tube of red up. 

The delicacy in which he dabbed the color onto your lips made your heart swim laps in the flutter of butterflies that had gathered in the pit of your stomach, a few breaking loose to lift your most vital organ back to its proper position where it then proceeded to grow in size, spilling over into the spaces between your ribs. He’d finished by the time your fond had, for the time being, ceased to grow in the warmth that harbored the very feeling to the very tips of your toes. 

Thoughtfully, you rolled your lips together, smacking them together a few times before you pursed them comically, like a red tulip blooming through the frost into spring. “Good?”

There was a handheld mirror under your nose before you could blink, Jeongguk’s shifting next to you outlined by his giddy stream of statements, “I think I did a pretty good job. Did I do a good job?”

Truthfully, the blending of the eye shadow was a bit questionable, but he’d managed to draw two mostly decent eyeliner wings. There was way too much highlight, by design of him insisting he wanted you to glow, but he hadn’t grown sloppy in sliding the lipstick to your mouth. It, honestly, wasn’t that bad. 

You told Jeongguk so to a proud smile that burst into his cheeks, jostling his glasses on his nose to which he shoved up with the heel of his palm. Some more formalities, mostly those that marked the end of all his videos, a small and slightly sarcastic shout out to the beauty community, and he was about to let the footage roll out a few seconds before shutting off the camera when you were stopping him with a loud wait! 

“You forgot something,” You nodded solemnly when his gaze whipped down to you still seated in front of him. 

“What—”

There was a minor struggle, mostly one out of surprise when you squished his cheeks in your palms, leaning forward to plant a lipstick stain to the center of his cheek. A noise of protest mewled out of his lips and his cheeks quickly flushed around the mark you’d left, quick to wave off the camera for his editing self later before you were happily clambering astride his lap, planting more kisses to match the first mark while he giggled underneath you yet made no motion to stop you with his fists gripped to the front of your shirt. 

He wiped those first with the makeup wipe he retrieved, only after you took a selfie to have for promotion purposes whenever the video would eventually come out. And a few selfies, just for safekeeping. 

Jeongguk worked at removing the makeup he’d just applied to your skin with a tender patience, parked between your thighs where you sat on the bathroom counter. A gentle tune that he murmured under his breath filled the silence but otherwise, you were content with the happiness of your heart in your ears while his tongue poked between his lips to get a particularly hard speck of black from the crease of your eyelid.  

He only hesitated when he reached your lips, ones that pursed playfully at him to catch his attention. “What’s wrong?” You continued to make soft noises at him, “Don’t want to part with your creation just yet?”

“Something like that.”

Quietly, he let you pinch the frame of his glasses in the center, dragging them off his nose to set them next to your thigh on the counter, instead fitting your hands on either side of his neck to drag fingertips upward into the fluffy hair at his nape. 

Jeongguk dropped the makeup wipe when you locked your legs around his waist, fitting the artificial cherry between the natural strawberry of his. 

[wide-eyedscottishlass]

Scarlett and the Professor - poolside sin

[continued from]    [contains NSFW material]

Just as he had known she would, Scarlett had melted for him. At the potency and command in the depth of his kiss, and in soft submission to his will. Though she had managed to surprise him again—first, with those sketches of her Greek boy, an eloquent testament to the reality of their relationship (though for Hennessy’s sake she had immediately tried to downplay it, as if he might grow jealous), and then with…well, it had felt to Hennessy as nothing short of her lovingly rendered drawing of himself—she remained wonderfully easy to read. And she was very easy to like, as well; he always got on best with lovers who were smart enough to hold their own with him, even challenge him at times, and after her initial timidity those few weeks ago (has it only been that long, he wondered) the vitality of her mind had asserted itself in some entertaining and satisfying ways.

There was much about her to view favorably. Such a very bright girl, with a sharp wit when she chose to display it. A gentle, kind, and very loving nature. Scarlett was soft in all the right places, too; not just in how she surrendered to him, but in the quiet way she clung to him afterwards, making no demands but that most elementary, unspoken one of simply laying with him flesh on flesh. No need for silly chatter in the afterglow, nor the trite habit he sometimes encountered, of  lovers asking for promises of devotion and loyalty. And as he had discerned from their first liaison on the beach, Scarlett could be obedient almost to a fault, and possessed a keen need to please authority figures such as himself. Hennessy had initially suspected she had daddy issues, and my oh my, she had confirmed that with a few passing references to a perpetually absent father. In that aspect, she seemed custom made just for him.

Most intriguing of all was a well of passion, which—despite her naivete—dwelt within her to an as yet indeterminate depth. Oh, he would learn that depth before he was finished with her. He most certainly would. The Leviathan that cruised his own depths had been quiet through their weekend together, not unusual as Hennessy had only just broken beneath her surface. But inevitably, it would find its voice and seek release—meaning that he must discover before then if Scarlett was meet enough to satisfy his wickedest hungers. And if she would revel as much in his darker predilections as she had already learned to in the sensual lessons he had already schooled her in. 

When he’d released her from that kiss, her eyes had remained closed, her face soft with that dreamy expression which he had begun to covet. Hennessy allowed himself a moment to enjoy it, before he gave voice to an observation. “Darling, you’re pinking up a bit—you might want to apply some sunscreen.” She blinked open her eyes at his unexpected comment. “I’d hate to see you burn that creamy skin of yours.” 

Scarlett gave a little ‘oh’, enough to make it clear that hadn’t even occurred to her. Leaving him wearing a small, indulgent smile. “You can fetch a tube from the cabana, little lamb—and I’ll even do your back for you, alright?” Goddamn, how pleasant and surprisingly natural it felt to take care of her! As though she was custom made to rouse that tendency in him as well. 

He’d made quick work of it, too, quietly pleased when she hummed softly beneath the care of his hands, then moaned when he ran his fingertips onto the outside swell of her breasts. “All set now, love,” he teased against her ear, even as he slid the backs of his fingers along her ribs and down to her waist, before throwing her a little off balance by simple letting go—for surely she had expected more. Scarlett turned in time to see him give the tube of sunscreen a one-handed toss and catch it deftly, while he grinned at her innocently, and then headed to the cabana to put it away. The look of surprise and wee confusion on her face was priceless, perfect fuel for the little game he had in mind. 

Exiting the cabana, he saw that she’d settled back into her chair and was staring at the sketchpad in her hands, though she hadn’t taken up her pencil yet. Hennessy slipped of his pool slides at the shallow end of the pool, right above the set of underwater stairs, then meandered over to the far end, giving her a chance to grow curious enough to watch him. When he was sure he had her attention, he dived right into the deep from the pool’s edge, swimming along the bottom for about two-thirds the length of the pool before surfacing for a deep breath. Scarlett was tracking his movements almost surreptitiously, her pencil just hovering over the paper. Gottcha, he thought smugly, it’ll be just a few minutes more, and you’ll be joining me for some very wet fun, m’dear. 

As a further enticement—certain that she was bound to be entranced by the powerful strokes of his long arms cleaving through the water—Hennessy propelled himself towards the shallow end, turning underwater and pushing off the wall, and then swam three full laps before coming to lean against the ledge, facing Scarlett. 

But there she was, presenting him a third surprise—for she sat engrossed in whatever she was drawing, paying him no heed, so that he finally had to call out for her attention. “Scarlett…darling,” he aimed to sound casual, “Come cool off in the water with me.” She gave a rather insouciant tilt of her head, and it occurred to him that she was playing hard to get. Perhaps in reply to the way he’d left off so abruptly after applying her sunscreen. This was a delicious, albeit unexpected, turn—though he knew that she would easily give in if her were to use his voice of command. Let’s see how far she is willing to take this…

Hennessy propped his elbows on top of the pool ledge, then entwined his fingers to rest his chin upon them, becoming the picture of patience before calling to her again, “The water is very refreshing, my pet…and I’d love for you to join me.”

 This time she looked up and gave a little shrug so that he smiled and crooked his finger to beckon her over. Scarlett gave an exaggerated sigh, blinking at him in faux innocence, then began to tuck her art supplies back into her rucksack. Slowly and with much deliberation, purposely making him wait. Her recalcitrance was turning him on in a way he hadn’t yet experienced with her, and the sudden image of her splayed across his knees as he prepared to spank her bare bottom in retribution, flashed across his mind’s eyes. Bringing his hardening prick to full attention. 

She stood up and launched into a long, languid stretch, reaching her arms above her head, then bending at the waist to touch her toes, before shimmying out of her capris. Highly amused, Hennessy bit his lip against commenting just yet, for he was busy picturing how hard he was going to rail her when she finally joined him in the pool. 

And then she was drawing near, smiling sweetly as her shadow fell across him—surely unaware of the wicked turn his thoughts had taken—to stand just out of his reach. Naughty Scarlett! He t’sked at her brazen disregard for his directives, even as her surprising behavior was working on him like some powerful aphrodisiac. She indulged in a dramatic sigh, then turned without a word, walking towards the deep end, sparing him a single, backward glance and a coy little smile, on her way to the diving board. 

Hennessy watched with growing fascination as Scarlett mounted the board, wearing an expression of intense concentration upon her lovely features. She took several deep breaths as she stepped onto the board, then briefly closed her eyes as she stood stock still, clearly preparing herself to dive, and then moved rapidly to the end. Once, twice, thrice, she bounced, gaining height with each spring of the board, and then flawlessly executed an open pike dive, entering the water with the barest of splashes, and then swimming the full length of the pool floor without coming up for air until she reached him. Emerging prettily—as if there was nothing to it—as sleek and as wet as an otter, confident in the wake of her skillful display, and eyeing him impudently. 

Gobsmacked for several seconds, Hennessy drew in a long, whistling breath, truly impressed with the grace with which she had moved through the water. A natural grace that affirmed that water was her element—perhaps as much hers as it was his own. “Christ, Scarlett,” he exclaimed, “That explains how you can hold your breath so well. You must be part water nymph after all!”

She dunked her head beneath the surface, then broke though again, leaving her neck and shoulders submerged. “Now you’re just teasing me, Professor,” she pouted, though her eyes told him what his compliments actually meant to her. Without waiting for his reply, Scarlett was off again, slicing through the water on her way back to the deep end, quickly flipping into an Olympic quality turn, to swim effortlessly back to the shallows. 

Twice more she showed him the same neat trick, arriving back in front of him barely winded, all wide-eyed and lustrous, and looking so very ripe for the taking that he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing hold of her arm and hauling her close. “And now you’re teasing me, little lamb. Awakening the wolf inside me.” He was breathing heavily, his voice raw with the lust she had conjured, “A very hungry wolf, at that…” He grabbed her chin with his other hand and kissed her roughly, then pressed his forehead to hers, “Hungry enough to devour you, Scarlett. Is that what you were hoping for?” 

Left speechless by his fervor, she nodded and swallowed hard, finally managing a breathless reply. “I think…I think with you, I…I always hope for hunger. Does that…make me wicked too?” 

Hennessy gripped her by the shoulders, rumbling from a deep place in his chest, “That makes you perfect for me, love. It makes you mine.” When he took her mouth again he pulled her under the water with him and held her chained to his kiss, only surfacing so they could both draw desperate, heaving breaths. 

Scarlett’s eyes had gone their widest and she watched him, mesmerized as he cupped a hand against her cheek. I’d bet that your pretty Greek boy never kissed you like that. Or that you ever looked at him like you’re looking at me now. “Say it for me, Scarlett,” he demanded, “Say what you know to be true.” 

She blinked several times and chewed on her bottom lip, hesitating only briefly as she searched for the words he expected to hear. “That,” she panted, “That I’m yours.” Scarlett breathed a heavy sigh, closed her eyes, and nestled against his palm, her relief clear in both her voice and expression, “I’m yours...my jo.” 

“Exactly so.” Hennessy rested his free hand on the side of her neck, noting the rapid pace of her pulse, while taming the feral edge to his voice—though it seemed every nerve in his body was alive with his need consume her. “You are mine, and mine alone. In this time and in this place, and for however long it pleases me to have it so.” That she showed no fear of such an absolute concept—that she even greeted it with a small, quiet smile—placated to a degree, the hungry beast lurking at his core. He placed his lips against her ear, relishing the little shiver she gave at the hot kiss of his breath on her tender skin, “And this is not by my will alone, little lamb, is it? It’s what you wanted of me from that very first love note you left on my desk.” 

“Yes…oh, yes.” She sounded almost grateful to share her illicit secret. “It was like some…dark magic came over me. Like I recognized you in the moment I saw you—and that all the choices of my life had led me right to…you.” 

Though lust still thundered through his blood, Hennessy held himself in check long enough to nuzzle her ear and then her cheek. Soft-voiced, he assured her, “You’re precious to me, Scarlett. I hadn’t expected that to happen. Not so soon, anyway.” She gave a little moan, which pleased him well again. “I can taste your trust in me in your every kiss, and that is precious to me too.”

Scarlett wrapped her arms around his neck, shivering with need despite the balmy air, molding her body to his, ready to give herself over to his will once more. Stoking his determination to take everything she was. This time he kissed her without need to pull her under, and with nothing to prove to either of them. Doing his best to go slowly, though inevitably raw hunger overtook them both. 

He had been kissing her face, her neck, her shoulders, as she let her head fall back; sucking the water from her sweet flesh, even as his urgency mounted and he moved them towards the pool wall. Once he had her there, Hennessy pulled away only so that he could shed his swim tee and toss it onto the ground behind her. Scarlett raised her arms above her head, inviting him to do the same for her, and then purred deep in her throat when he was able to flex his powerful hands around her bare breasts. Sinking lower in the water, he took one hard bud between his teeth, while tweaking the other between his fingers, thriving on the moans that were her reply. He swirled the tip of his tongue around her areola and then greedily pulled her into his mouth to feast upon. Her smooth moan drew his eyes up to hers, to see her nod ‘yes’, to see her nod ‘more’, so that he began to suck harder. Pulling her ever deeper. Suckling on her so vigorously that she hissed and shot her hands into his hair, while moaning his name unrepentantly. 

Hennessy dove his right hand down, first parting her thighs, and then slipping it inside her bikini bottom, reaching for that precious nub he’d learned so well. Using the thick pad of his thumb to work her as he moved to take her other nipple deep into his mouth. Absorbing the incredible, sinful sounds rising from her chest, sounds purely for him. Triumphant in knowing no man had ever drawn such sounds from her before, and surprised to feel himself grow even greedier for more. 

As much as he loathed to part from her again for even a moment, need drove him to it; though he kept his gaze upon her, he only let go long enough to pull off his trunks, while Scarlett tugged off her bottoms. Hennessy held out his hands and she came to him at once; he grabbed her hips and using the waters buoyancy, he lifted her enough so that she could drape her legs around him. A moment more and he was using one hand to align the head of his cock with her opening, and then thrusting up into her as he pulled her down onto him. The pool water had been wonderfully warm, but Scarlett’s heat surrounding him was heavenly. Her walls enclosing him perfectly while she sucked the water from his skin, all along his collarbone, and then danced her tongue from his Adam’s apple down to the hollow of his throat. 

She was clinging to him, giving out sharp huffs of air at each of his hard thrusts, but having no traction, she could only rotate her hips for him, so that he cupped her bottom in his hands, sinking his fingers into her firm flesh. “That’s right, baby…that’s the way…” he panted, backing her against the wall again, enabling him to grind up and into her mercilessly, eventually finding their ideal rhythm. Fucking her hard while she dug her fingers into his back. 

Soon, her mouth fell open against him, and she was moaning louder and louder with each of his thrusts, driving him on in equal measure to the divine sensation of her walls pulsing around him, gripping him tight. “Scream for me, Scarlett…if you need to, baby…shout to the heavens, if you will…” 

When she did, it was spectacular, crying out his name like an unholy prayer, her heady moans become wicked as she begged him please, to never stop. “Fuck me hard, my jo…fuck me forever!” So shockingly un-Scarlett like, yet exactly what his soul craved to hear. 

Hennessy opened his eyes, wanting to mark her singular beauty in the throes of their excessive sin—and was struck to the marrow by how utterly his she had become. Exactly as he had wanted, but like a thing that had eluded him his whole life. Making him need her, even more than the wanting. Desperately needing to feel the clench of her muscles—at the height of her ecstasy—surround his throbbing cock, needing her to cum hard and milk him dry. Needing to drown in her…in her love. 

And when he commanded her to, she did—oh, she did because he deemed it so—and so beautifully, so hard that it felt like a rocket imploding, and he followed hard upon, buried as deep inside her as he could get. Suddenly, there were words rising up from his chest, but Hennessy caught them quickly in his throat, while his Scarlett was cooing her bliss, unmindful of his uncharacteristic struggle. 

Catching those dreaded words before they could escape and make everything too complicated, and make him appear weak and ordinary in his precious lover’s eyes. He would not, could not, feel them or speak them aloud. Even if they were a product of truth, and not just his hormones. They would destroy the dynamic of his life, the life he’d worked so religiously to build for himself. 

Besides, he’d have to put Scarlett aside, should he say them—for he certainly did not feel them. Especially not now, no matter how mind blowing it had been, not when he had been made vulnerable by what they had just shared. Not now, when the apotheosis of pleasure had laid his soul bare. Hennessy was far from ready to forsake all the glorious promise of her young, nubile body, nor the astonishing softness of her heart, which she had proven ever ready to lavish upon him. He bit his tongue and tucked his face into her neck, while she smoothed gentle fingers against his hair, and they rode out the last waves of shared ecstasy together.

“Hennessy,” she whispered at last, several minutes having passed with only silence between them and his head still resting on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, groaning against her skin, his mind still hazy in the aftermath of not only their extraordinary physical experience, but as much from the jumble of emotions he had needed to deny and then try to lock away. “I’m fine, Scarlett,” he told her, regretfully lifting away from the welcome haven in the crook of her neck, feeling too drained of energy to give any thought to the dilemma that he had just withstood. “Perfectly fine.”

Hennessy realized that given her remarkably sensitive nature that Scarlett would sense, perhaps even feel, the change in him. But it couldn’t be helped. She had intimated more than once her vivid and quite literal dread of going too deep into dark, unknown waters. Well, there were deep, treacherous waters of his own, which he had vowed long ago to avoid. A mere forty-eight hours---not even that long yet---spent indulging in her charms, no matter how beguiling, were simply not enough to tempt him to tread there. 

He pressed a perfunctory kiss to her cheek and then backed away, submerging into the water as though cleansing himself of those things he would deny. When he surfaced, Hennessy caught her eye long enough to see he’d left her perplexed, and even a little hurt.

That’s as it must be---and what choice does she have otherwise, he decided, rolling over to take a leisurely lap to the far end of the pool; the only promise he’d made, beyond those of the sins he would teach her, was that their affair would never broach the boundaries of his black and solitary heart. It’s best you remember that promise now, little lamb. If not, what heartache you may suffer will not be my fault to bear.

(to be continued)

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[mst3kproject]

The Flame Barrier

I’ve got an awful lot of movies from 1958 on my resume, don’t I?  Why is that? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. Apparently it was just a bumper year for cheap, crappy black-and-white films.  This one stars Kathleen Crowley from The Rebel Set and Rodd Redwing from The Mole People, in a movie written by George Worthing Yates, who also penned Earth vs the Spider.  Also featuring a blob from outer space, with motives even less clear than the one in The Space Children.

Over yet another stock-footage rocket launch, one of those deep-voiced 50’s narrators informs us that there’s a layer of Earth’s atmosphere called the Flame Barrier which destroys everything it touches. This particular rocket was no exception, and its crash-landing in the Mexican jungle may be related to the disappearance of explorer Howard Dalman, whose wife Carol has now come looking for him. She seeks out a pair of prospectors, Dave and Matt Hollister, to guide her to his last known location.  As they go deeper into the bush, they find they’re wandering into something unknown… something that can make men burst into flames!

This movie isn’t terrible.  It’s not great, but it’s not irredeemably awful.  It reminds me a lot of The Giant Gila Monster, in that there’s a story going on and it’s not a bad story per se, but it’s one that’s got nothing whatsoever to do with the title and premise that drew us to the film in the first place.  When the supposed main plot pops up again at the end, it makes for a sudden and jarring shift.

The Flame Barrier starts off all right.  We have the inevitable narrator to give us the backstory, and then it gets right on with meeting the characters.  They’re introduced one by one, telling us their personalities and goals: Carol is naïve and spoiled but she’s trying her best, Matt is a drunk fool but he’s got a good heart, and Dave is a gruff, cynical realist who loves his brother but is tired of his bullshit.  None of them are exactly nice people but you can see where they’re coming from, and they each get an arc.  Carol struggles with whether she really loved Howard, whom she barely knew, and the movie allows her to toughen up and learn how to survive in the wilderness. Dave spends much of the movie being a jerk to Carol but eventually realizes he judged her too harshly and apologizes.  Matt gets a chance to be a hero and takes it, believing that he owes it to Dave for never giving up on him.  The writing is frequently unsubtle but the actors are competent, and these little stories work just fine.

The movie that surrounds them, however, is often very sloppy.  The narrator tells us that the space probe from the opening crashed because ‘it unexpectedly lost its gravitational force’.  What?  What is that supposed to even mean?  The narrator also tells us it’s been six months since Howard disappeared, then mere minutes later Carol says it’s been four. There’s a bit where Carol is menaced by an iguana… the creature is never actually in the shot with her, so they couldn’t find anything scarier?  The stock wildlife footage on their trek through the soundstage sets of Central America includes hyenas.  I can hear Crow saying, “boy, are we in Afri… wait a minute…”  And, pet peeve, they describe a snake as poisonous instead of venomous.

This being a jungle movie, obviously there are ‘natives’.  I think most of these are actual Mexicans, although Wikipedia says Rodd Redwing may have been from India (if so, I like to think his entire career in Westerns was based on just walking into casting directors’ offices and announcing he was ‘an Indian’, and letting them draw their own conclusions).  Being as this is a movie from the fifties, the natives are there largely to provide a body count – white people aren’t allowed to die until the climax.  To its credit, The Flame Barrier mostly (though not entirely) avoids the trope where the natives have interpreted the mysterious happenings as supernatural, leading the white characters to scoff at the whole thing.  There is some of this, but Dave clearly knows these people well and respects their culture and their warnings.

Then there’s the love story.  Obviously this is a movie, so Carol’s gotta fall for one or other of these idiots, but neither of the Hollister brothers is a good choice. Matt is sweet to her but he’s also a useless drunk who only has a job because his brother puts up with him.  Dave spends eighty percent of the movie being an asshole and I have no idea what Carol sees in him.  At least the two men never fight over her.  I guess the love affair is important to the plot, because it spurs the party on to finish their search for the missing Howard Dalman despite the odds being stacked against them… but that basically boils down to Carol and Dave needing to be sure she’s a widow before they can bone.

After all this messing around in the jungle, with the run time half over we get to the plot, and the movie changes gears with an almost audible ka-chunk.  Now we’ve got this space blob sitting in a cave (how did it get in there when it’s still attached to the rocket?) doubling in size every two hours, which must be destroyed before it can consume the entire earth!  Suddenly we have a laboratory, because all the scientific equipment Howard brought with him is still in perfect condition despite having been sitting in the jungle for either four or six months.  Suddenly Dave the rugged survivalist is a scientist and mathematician.  It’s like they took the same actors and sets and started trying to make a totally different movie.

Honestly, I think this is more or less what happened. I think the multiplying space blob was the movie somebody originally wanted to make – it starts out as a tiny thing in a test tube, growing bigger and bigger until it consumes the whole building and will destroy the entire city if it isn’t stopped!  That sounds like a pretty fun 50’s sci-fi movie in itself. It also, however, sounds like an expensive 50’s sci-fi movie, needing miniatures destroyed and screaming extras and other stuff The Flame Barrier just didn’t have the money for. Hence the need to spend so much time wandering around in the jungle swapping tragic backstories before the characters are allowed to get to that point.

The unfortunate thing about this is that the movie doesn’t really have time to get into the nature of its alien.  In Spacemaster X-7, the Blood Rust was offscreen much of the time but we still had a good idea of what it was and of its capabilities, and the explanations we were given made a reasonable amount of sense.  In The Flame Barrier, we’ve got this blob that apparently lives in the rarified and super-hot outer atmosphere (the writers seem to have confused Earth’s atmosphere with the Sun’s corona), but can also survive on the ground… and its effects are all over the place. Sometimes when things get too close to it, they’re just electrocuted and disintegrated, as happens to the rocket’s original passenger, a very young chimpanzee.  Sometimes people get horribly burned and then burst into flames and are reduced to skeletons hours or days later, as keeps happening to the natives. And then there’s Howard, who somehow managed to get close enough to be swallowed up by the thing and his corpse is still completely intact inside it.

None of this makes any sense.  If the blob has that protective electrocution barrier that the humans must be so careful to avoid, how did Howard get close enough to be trapped in it?  How did the chimp get out to end up wandering around in the jungle?  What the heck is happening to the natives who get burned and then skeletonized and why doesn’t that ever happen to the chimp or any of the main characters?  And how do they manage to kill by electrocution a creature that uses lethal amounts of electricity without any harm to itself?  ‘It’s an alien – we don’t understand it’ can cover a multitude of sins in movie writing, but the blob’s random effects don’t even feel like they could potentially make sense.

The Flame Barrier reminds me of other MST3K movies, too. Prominent among them are It Conquered the World and The Crawling Hand, both of which ended on the same unintentionally depressing note: they suggest that the dangers of going into space are so great that humans will never be able to overcome them.  It Conquered the World tells us that there are eight more Venusians just waiting for their own turn to invade.  The Crawling Hand says that exposure to outer space causes mutations that will turn astronauts into mindless murderers.  The Flame Barrier posits that not only is space itself deadly, but is also full of deadly creatures, and the only way to avoid them is to stay on the ground.

This has always interested me because movies like this stand alongside things like the tales of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger!, in which humans have an exciting future among the stars. Stories set in space can be about either the exhilaration of discovery or the terror of the unknown, and this dichotomy seems to be as old as science fiction – Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is considered the first work of proper sci-fi, and it encompasses both.  Frankenstein tells us that if we let our fear over-rule our curiosity, we’ll miss out on something potentially wonderful.  Movies like The Flame Barrier, and even modern space monster flicks like Alien, seem to say the opposite, that we shouldn’t meddle with the unknown at all.

This movie was kind of a compromise on my part.  I’ve had a lot on my plate lately and I picked The Flame Barrier as a movie that was kinda stupid but wouldn’t be either a test of my endurance or particularly challenging to write about.  I’m hoping to have something a little juicier for you next time.