#i need to scan it into the comp though

[sommerbueckers]

My Brother's Best Friend Pt4

I immediately disregarded my homework at the sound of my phone ringing. I had been expecting a call from Paige ever since her game against Xavier went off, Uconn coming out with an unsurprising win.

Her smug face appeared on the screen, she had changed into her pajamas and the camera was propped up on what I assumed to be a desk or table.

"Summer Collymor."

"Paige Bueckers."

"Did you watch the game?" she asked.

"Nope," I said, "tv was unplugged as promised."

She leaned back in her chair and laughed, shaking her head. "Whatever you say."

I laughed as well, nervously toying around with the pen I had previously tossed aside with my notebook. This was the first time ever that Paige and I had facetimed, and despite our track record of never having a dry conversation, I couldn't help but worry that I'd run out of things to talk about.

"So..." she said with a smile.

"So...?" I repeated.

"How was your day?" she asked softly.

"Hmm it was okay. Practice was really great though, we got a few new girls who tried out for the second season and they're really good. I'm hoping they'll tryout again for the comp squad in the spring."

"That's good. You're pacing yourself right?"

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

"With putting the routines together and studying for midterms and all, I just want to make sure you aren't stressing yourself out" she shrugged shyly.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" I smiled.

"Definitely not, who am I gonna make fun of if you're all busy and stressed?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Girl bye, look in the mirror and you'll find all the jokes you need" I laughed.

"Ohh you thought that was good huh? You weren't saying all that when I was all over you the other day" she replied cockily, crossing her arms and staring at the camera.

"So you admit that you were all over me?"

"We were all over each other."

"Mhm. If I remember correctly, it was you who made the first move," I reminded her, "so shut all that shit up."

She playfully rolled her eyes and grabbed the phone, moving to lay down on her bed. A moment of silence washed over us as I watched her watch me, both of our smiles slowly growing at the eye contact. I didn't want to be the first to back down but I could feel the tension becoming too much for me to bear. I pretended to read over a paragraph in my chem textbook, not wanting her to notice the blush that had crept onto my face. It'd go straight to her head.

"What're you wearing?" her voice was low and suggestive through the phone, but her face displayed an expression of innocence.

"A t-shirt" I said, tilting the camera up as I displayed my 2019 cheer championship shirt.

She smirked, "What else?"

"Just my underwear" I said innocently.

"Oh yeah?" she raised her eyebrows. When I nodded my head she continued, "Can I see?"

I thought about it for a moment, lifting up to make sure my door was closed before making my decision. I pulled my covers down and raised the camera, showing off the bright pink thong that I had on.

"Mm mm mm!" Paige exclaimed dramatically, shaking her head with her fist to her mouth.

"Oh God shut up!" I laughed, putting the camera back down.

"What? You look good" she complimented simply.

"Thanks, wish you were here to prove it though" I said lowly.

I didn't know where my sudden boldness came from, maybe it was because I knew Paige wasn't actually here and I had no reason to be nervous. Anything I said or did right now would surely be forgotten by the time she returned for Christmas break.

"Just touch yourself and pretend its me" she laughed, but her eyes carefully scanned my face for my reaction.

"You would say something like that" I shook my head.

"Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures" she defended with her hand up. She went quiet for a moment when I didn't say anything. "Are you doing it?" she asked with high eyebrows, surprise laced in her voice.

"No! You're so dirty," I laughed, "I was getting comfortable."

"Mhm" she nodded.

"...Did you really want me to?"

She shrugged her shoulders, not looking at the phone. She definitely wanted me to. I bit my lip as I considered it. Paige was staring at me quizzically through the phone with one of her eyebrows cocked. I was getting turned on at the thought of pleasing myself, the thought of Paige's voice in my ear as she told me what to do and how to do it.

"Okay" I said, letting out a breath.

"Huh?"

"I'll do it" I elaborated.

"You don't have to, I was just-"

"I want to" I interuppted, rubbing my legs together under the covers.

"Really?"

"Yes, what do I do?" I asked.

"Wait, have you never done it before?" she sounded surprised.

"No...is that bad?"

Paige laughed and sat up a little straighter in her bed, "No Summer it's not bad it's just...surprising?" she corrected.

"Why is it surprising?"

"I don't know, I don't know."

"Alright whatever," I smiled, "you ready to do this?"

"Are you ready?" she redirected the question.

"Yeah go, go" I encouraged.

Paige laughed lowly, shaking her head. I moved to switch off my lamp and then laid back down. Paige had gotten comfortable as well; her head rested back against her pillow and her wrist was draped over her forehead.

"Okay now...run your hands up and down your thighs" she instructed after thinking for a moment. "Just your fingertips, slow" she added quickly.

I did as I was told, softly trailing my fingertips up to the edge of my underwear and then trailing them back down to my knees. It felt like electricity coursing through my fingers and leaving burn marks on my skin where they touched. I imagined it was Paige's hands, touching me with utmost delicacy as she always did.

"You like the way that feels?" she asked.

"Yeah" I answered.

I couldn't help but feel embarrassed at what I was doing. Not only was I masturbating for the first time in my life, but I was doing it on the phone with Paige. She couldn't see me, my phone sat next to my head facing toward the ceiling, close enough to where she could hear any noise that I made.

"I want you to move your hands up and down your cunt...be gentle" she said.

I bit back a laugh at the bluntness of her words and moved my fingers over my clothed clit. I was gentle like she told me to be, hardly pressing into myself at all.

"Do it three more times, and then I want you to stop."

I could feel myself growing wetter, hotter, needier. I bit down hard on my lip, preventing shaky breaths from leaving my mouth. My clit was becoming swollen, my entire pussy throbbing with the desire to be touched by me...by Paige.

She had fucked me so good before she left and I was aching for her to do it again. I wanted to feel every inch of her, her sweaty body on mine as we went round after round.

"Take two fingers and rub in that circular motion that I know you like" she said, I could practically see the smile on her face as she spoke. "Think about me when you do it, think about my fingers touching and teasing you."

I was even more turned on at the thought of Paige hovering over me, her long blonde hair falling like a curtain over me and tickling my face.

"How wet are you Summer?" she asked lowly.

I could feel my wetness grow and begin to drip out of me, if I told her how wet I was right now she'd never let me hear the end of it. A small whimper slipped past my lips, a cry of desperation.

"So wet" I breathed out.

"Yeah...good."

"Let's get those pretty panties out the way then" she smirked.

I pushed my hand down into my underwear all too quickly, dying to feel a more intense friction.

"You're rushing, I can hear you. Slow down or I'm gonna stop" she warned, her voice serious.

I stilled my motions.

"That's a good girl" she cooed condescendingly.

I was going to come quick, I knew I was. Paige talking me through this had to be the hottest thing ever. After a good game tonight I knew she deserved to unravel me the way she was, to listen to me crumble to pieces from instructions she was giving me.

"Slowly...put your fingers in. I want it so slow it almost hurts to do, you hear me?" she said.

"Mhm..."

"Words."

"Yes, yes I hear you" I whined.

I didn't waste anymore time inserting my ring and middle fingers, a dragged out gasp filling the room. I tightly pressed my lips together, that gasp turning into a moan.

All I could think about was Paige's proud face smirking down at me as her finger repeatedly pushed in and out of me, hitting all the right spots. I imagined her lips as they connected with mine, and then they moved to my jaw, and then to my neck, and down my chest...

"Go faster for me."

I ignored the slight stinging pain I felt as I pumped my fingers faster, it was enough for me to clench my jaw, but not enough to stop.

"Fuck you sound so good" Paige grunted, running her hands through her hair. "God I miss you."

I didn't bother to stop the smile that pulled at my lips, there were so many feelings running through me that I didn't know what to do with myself.

I ran my hand up my side to my chest, using it to squeeze my tits. I could hear my fingers going in and out, my juices running down my hand.

"Do you wanna come?" she asked.

"Uh huh" I moaned out desperately.

"I want to see you" Paige said, staring at the phone.

I didn't make a move for my phone, I could feel my walls tightening around my fingers. I would come any second.

"Summer," she called out, "be a good girl and let me see you."

I snatched the phone off the bed and held it in my hand, sitting up to lean on my elbow so she could see my face.

Her eyes were dark when they met mine through the screen, she licked her lips and smiled. "Come for me pretty baby"

That'll do it.

My mouth fell open as I released all over my fingers. It was almost as if my entire existence was slipping away, like everything I had accomplished was becoming undone. My body shook for a moment, and it felt like I was lying on clouds taking shots of Pink Whitney with Jesus Christ. Nothing was real.

If that's what giving myself an orgasm felt like, I was upset that I hadn't done it sooner. I laid there for a moment, coming back to my sense as I came down from my high.

"You okay over there?" Paige asked, her voice laced with amusement.

I laughed and brought the phone closer to my face, playfully narrowing my eyes. I got up from the bed and headed into the bathroom, setting up the phone to wash my hands.

"I've actually never done that before...like, talked someone through it like that I mean" Paige confessed.

"Aw, I took your phone sex virginity" I teased, rubbing the soap into my hands.

She snorted, "You're a cornball."

"Yes, yes, so I've been told."

IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO FKN RUSHED LIKEEEEE

but at least i tried yk

i haven't been in the smut mood ??????🫨🫨🫨🫨🫨

but like I told yall I need a little more practice, I just can't tell what's too much and what isn't enough WHERES THE LINE ????

but okay like any suggestions like...what do yall want to see next🙄?

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 13/05

@garnetduodecim asked: I always assumed jack spent the first 4 hours in the troll session, before destroying prospit, destroying Aradiabots, there were A LOT of them.

Maybe one of the Aradiabots got in a lucky shot, and was able to tag him with a weaker, non-God Tier variant of her freeze ability. That'd certainly at least delay him.

@morganwick asked: So, you were talking about Aradia "injuring" Vriska (post/704357246751113217) and comparing Vriska to a fairy godmother character (post/722100305374986240)?

@manorinthewoods asked: Serendipity Gospels is by Tamsyn Muir??? Really? Um, that's… hoo. That was one of the fanfics that I didn't end up liking. Might need to revisit that. Side note: 'Doc Scratch's School for Supernaturally Gifted Adolescents' feels more like something Locked Tomb-esque to me. So that's really… ah. ~LOSS (3/5/24)

I do wonder how similar the Gospels are to TLT's writing style.

Actually, can anyone confirm at what point the fic will be safe to read? I could just wait until I'm reading panels from after its publication date, but if I can check it out before, I will.

@abysswarlock asked: Ooh I’ve had this hypothesis for a while now but you just said something that made me lock in my guess that your classpect is Prince of Doom

The classpect wheel continues to turn!

I'm married to Doom for at least one of my 'sonas, but my Class is still up in the air, since we know even less about them than aspects.

@manorinthewoods asked: As a sort of Part 2 to that sylladex comment - how do you think the Sylladex works? Do you think that Homestuck will go into more detail about Sylladices, or do you think they'll fade into the background as different aspects of the magic system come to the fore? ~LOSS (24/4/24)

I think the latter is a lot more likely. Most aspects (lol) of Homestuck's magic system are there to serve the story first and foremost. As much as I'd love the comic to turn into a treatise on Sburb deeplore, it really doesn't feel like something Hussie would be interested in doing.

The story won't really suffer without, say, a detailed explanation of every facet of alchemy - I just really like speculating, because I'm all about shit like that.

@heliotropopause asked: What are your thoughts on Homestuck's translation convention(s)? As an example, take page 2251, line "Arrivederci, Megido.": Is she writing in something close enough to Earth English to scan as such to the reader, no translation necessary? Is Vriska saying a word in Troll Italian, which gets translated to Earth Italian? Is she expressing a sentiment in her usual language that's best translated as the word "arrivederci" as it's used in English? Has Doc Scratch secretly been translating all cross-species communication we've seen so far?

Vriska's arrivederci seems diegetic to me. If we inherited English from Alternia, it makes sense that some of our other languages might come from there too.

tl;dr: Troll Italy is real 🇮🇹

Anonymous asked: im not one to dip my toes into The Vriscourse but this one piece of analysis i really liked is that vriska is jealous of tavros, that hes had a much easier life compared to her and that hes allowed to be more of a wimp while she has to be the toughest fuck alive or else shell die

It's only one piece of the Vriska-Tavros puzzle, but it's an important one. She'll refuse to acknowledge it to the end, though, because the idea of being jealous of Tavros is disgusting to her.

@obscureaeguran asked: Are there any current theories of yours that you want to be wrong about?

Confident as I am in my Vriska death theory, I don't actually want to be right.

I really like Vriska's character, and I want to see her grow past the worldview that's preventing her from finding peace. I just don't think that's likely, given her current trajectory.

Anonymous asked: 'In what universe are 13-year-olds the people most qualified to make universes?' well per the beta version of homestuck (when hussie wanted to make the whole thing in flash before deciding against it) they were all going to be 10 instead, i think this is the much better option!

How young can we go, anyway?

AU where the Homestuck Babies aren't sent to Earth at all, and just start playing immediately.

@manorinthewoods asked: Have you played Deltarune? ~LOSS (9/4/24)

I have! I was actually replaying it on day one of the liveblog - hence the several references I made to it at the time. That feels forever ago, now.

@bladekindeyewear asked: Jade changed pretty drastically as a person after her dreamself died, if you think about it— demanding Feferi stop using her quirk in chat, standing up to the trolls for the first time, getting angry, to such an extent that Karkat was so surprised that it turned his opinion of her around completely in a single conversation. Even forcing a password system to keep talks linear instead of using cloud visions to do everything out of order. This doesn’t just feel to me like dream Jade being a “different individual”, it also feels like a metaphorical confrontation between her NEW self and her OLD self…

I think it's both.

Jade's been through a lot in the last couple of hours, and she really isn't the same girl who died on Prospit.

Being an oracle of Skaia's visions led to disaster. They showed her that John's Dream Self would awaken, leading her to believe she was finally going to meet him, but neglected to mention that she'd die the moment he opened his eyes - or that Prospit would die alongside her.

As a result, the new Jade seems to have made a decision to completely reject all prophetic information. She'll supply the minimum possible intel to her past self, and no more.

It's clear her Dream Self's death was a catalyst for a pretty dramatic shift in her worldview. She's angry - at the trolls, at herself, and at the world that betrayed her trust. She's tired of being jerked around, and her tumultuous emotions are making her rather testy. Basically, she's sick of all the bullshit, and she won't take it from anyone anymore.

Jadesprite has experienced the same catalyst, and has also come to mistrust the clouds, but for different reasons.

Jade rejects prophecies, in part, because she doesn't want to be deceived - but Jadesprite rejects them out of sheer hopelessness. She just doesn't care anymore.

They both have the same trauma, but they're dealing with it in very different ways - and at this point, I really do consider them to be different people.

And then on a metaphorical level, Jadesprite represents the 'silly', absent-minded childhood self that got Jade into this mess.

I think this taunt from Karkat hit very, very close to home for her, and I'm sure she associates the traits he described with her idyllic days on Prospit. It's part of why Dream Jade is such a perfect target for her fury.

@spyril4132 asked: i beg to differ on the entry item similarities only applying to prospit. iirc, rose shatters a bottle, and dave hatches an egg; both involve breaking open some sort of "shell", and neither are associated with a larger object, which could be seen as similar types of items. (while jade does break a piñata, she does so by shooting it, not by splitting it apart)

It's true that Rose and Dave's object's have some physical similarities, but John and Jade are both summoning the same tree, which feels like a much stronger connection.

Rose and Dave's entry cards also summoned auxiliary items, but they were different - a cabinet and bird, respectively. From where I'm sitting, the link between the two Prospit items does seem unique.

@skelekingfeddy asked: what herptiles would sally and sahlee have as their consorts? i feel like a monitor lizard would fit for one of them…maybe losas has like, turtle or tortoise consorts, what with their long-livedness and the wise sagely vibe and all.

I was thinking pretty much the same thing for Sahlee. Let's say they're Galápagos tortoises, because the Sage gives me Oogway vibes.

For Sally's Consorts, I'm going to get really funky and say they're a type of pterosaur.

@sparten4ever92 asked: The HS version of Megalovania is slept on way too much, the Vriska guitar adds so much to it that the UT version just doesn't have. @sanctferum asked: Finally, MeGaLoVania by Toby Fox (feat. Joren "Tensei" deBruin on guitar)! Would you say that Tavros had an…unpleasant chronological progression? (btw I do love the bit of Spider's Claw that plays during the Vriska segment, which is (obviously) unique to this Megalovania) also, the audiovisual style of homestuck flashes is just really cool imo @mimescantscream asked: You have no idea how long we've waited for the Megalovania

This version of Megalovania was a great choice for Aradia's finest hour - or at least, her finest hour so far.

It's moments like this which are why I decided to stop listening to the albums in advance. If I hadn't first heard Aradia's Megalovania in this flash, it wouldn't have hit the way it did.

@elkian asked: MEGALOVANIA TIME BAYBEEEE! Also, let's go back to that theory you had about Aradia getting more alive, because you NAILED it. @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: i am so excited to see aradia again and finally as herself :33<

She's fucking BACK, baby!

Seeing Aradia smiling for real after all this time is genuinely heartwarming - and with her time-stop attack, she's almost unkillable. It'd take some absolute nonsense to take Aradia out of the picture again, and I think she'll be sticking around for a long time. Hopefully forever.

@grippingtraverse asked: notice any similarities during megalovania between aradia vs. jack & sans vs. player? 0u0

The best I can come up with is that Aradia and Frisk are both time travelers whose signature color is red.

Or maybe Jack is the Frisk analogue, since he's the one wiping out all life in the session, and Aradia is the last foe he faces.

@captorations asked: please consider, with this new information about aradia, what it could mean for her literary descendant dulcie septimus. please also keep considering this as you continue and see more of aradia. i am very normal about both of these characters

Ooh, they do have similar vibes, don't they? They're both doomed, they're strongly associated with death, and they both have a cheerful side that comes out when you don't expect it to.

@duorogue asked: "You have to give Nepeta some credit. The literal first thing she did after this traumatic murder was log into Trollian and report on Jack’s activities." To be fair to her, when I have a bad nightmare the first thing I do is log onto discord

nepeta hopping on mic at 2am to complain about the hat man (the hat man is doc scratch)

@absinthe-and-alabaster asked: when the writ keeper was introduced as fifth exile you mentioned that it was a little fucked up how the king was the only prospitian that was preserved - i just wanted to remind you that no, he wasn't ! on page 1974 we see all the other prospitians that were exiled with the white queen on her ship (including ms paint!) WQ just left them to go wander the desert

I'd actually forgotten about that. So much happened during the Act 4 ending that it completely slipped my mind. I even missed Ms. Paint!

Anonymous asked: Hey, as you noticed, the Dave Coin Split is a plot hole. We've never seen the timeline split because of someone's choice before. Compare to John flying to the seventh gate, there weren't two timelines based on his choice, the timeline only changed because Dave came back from the original timeline and changed it. And of course, like you said in the tags, Terezi shouldn't have been able to communicate with Doomed Dave, including to tell him the result of the FL1P. Have you noticed any other plot holes or things that don't seem to make sense?

While I see what you're saying, it might not necessarily be a plot hole! Certainly the Dave Coin Timeline was created in a different manner to Davesprite's - but that might just mean there are multiple ways to split a timeline, or that there are certain requirements that must be fulfilled for a decision to spawn one.

Because of things like that, it's hard to tell whether something's actually a plot hole, or if it'll eventually make sense in light of later reveals.

This is particularly true for aspects of the plot involving time travel, like the one you just described. Like, remember before I learned about Doomed Timelines, when I thought Davesprite broke Homestuck's predestination rules?

Anonymous asked: You said "God Tiering is just another way to inhabit your Dream Self," so do you think the things that Dream Selves can do (such as Jade growing extra arms) can be done by God Tiers?

I never really thought about that!

I think it's definitely possible. God Tier bodies can fly the same way that Dream Selves can, so other powers might transfer, too. Maybe the only reason Vriska, Aradia and John aren't shapeshifters is because Jade hasn't taught them to how to dream up extra limbs.

She might be one of the only Dream Selves who've learned how to shapeshift this fluidly. Logging thousands of hours on Prospit has its perks!

[sharkeaten]

various esme headcanons from her superhero verses that i need to dump somewhere:

- in her gen v/the boys verse, she and alejandra were both injected with compound v as babies as part of a research study on how comp v manifests in twins. while alejandra was fine, esme sustained heavy side effects, including partial blindness and significant nerve damage. she was given up for adoption after this, as her parents believed she wouldn’t produce any power.

- in her general mutant verse, she’s born with these disabilities, & was given up for adoption as a child because her parents were under the impression they were only having one kid, they couldn’t afford two more, and alejandra was the one chosen to stay.

- esme discovered her powers at age eight during an autistic episode. her sonic scream broke all the glass in the house and nearly deafened her parents (sorry aksel and sarah 😞).

- her psionic abilities began manifesting as well at this point, and she quickly began to use them to see the world around her in a different way, similar to sonar readings and scanning. the time and energy that takes wears on her, though (and gives her migraines), so she mostly uses an advanced form of echolocation via small tongue clicks as she walks. her powers work with her disabilities in that she has an extremely heightened sense of hearing and is able to feel objects she normally couldn’t through telekinesis.

- being selectively mute, she rarely actually talks and prefers to speak in people’s heads. if necessary, she can make it seem as if her lips are moving, but she doesn’t like to use her voice around those she isn’t close to.

- she currently lives in new york, new york, working at the american museum of natural history and going to grad school for a paleontology degree. she often gets asked if she’s weathervane (booo famous sister), despite the sunglasses she wears all the time because of her sight and her penchant for walking around like a goddamn supervillain (she’s wearing trench coats in the new york heat someone stop her). she’s also trying this new thing called “stopping being vengeful” — let’s see how that works!

[livelaughlovesubs]

It's always cold and quiet comp sci bf with cute and bubby, affectionate gf.

Why can't it be cold and quiet comp sci lady with her cute boy toy who's type is girls who don't have time for them?

Imagine typing away on your pc, needing constant focus but there's this cute little thing on your lap with his arms snaked around your waist and head on your shoulder, making occasional glances to the screen, not sure what he's seeing, but wanting to encourage so ever so often he leaves some kisses on the neck his snuggled against. But ofc you on the computer aren't heartless, ever so often as well, a hand leaves the keyboard to pat his head and comb through his hair.

This is just me being a degenerate since I do comp sci and happen to not be very talkative. Was working on an assignment a while ago and the idea came to me, thought it was cute.

Comp sci bf x cutie gf is cute too, I think I just see it a lot. Like a lot a lot 😞

Am I just jealous 😰🤨

Aww, this is so cute though. I guess it’s time for me to write some fluff again. It’s a bit short though

I didn’t mention any names, works with any character you think fits

You were sitting at your desk, eyes staring at the screen for the last few hours. It was straining your eyes, but you couldn’t stop now. It was almost done, you can finally rest once it’s finished. Because you knew once you take a break you won’t be able to go back to working again. A little more, just a bit more and you were done.

All while your hands were typing some codes and scanning the lines, your boyfriend has fallen asleep in your arms. His head resting in the nook of your neck, eyes fluttered shut. The soft sound of his breathing could be heard, and you could feel the rising and sinking of his chest. That wasn’t really difficult if you consider the position you two were in. He was sitting on your lap after all. With his arms around your neck and legs on either side of yours, dangling from the chair. It took him a lot of effort to convince you, since you didn’t like being disturbed while working. If you were going to do it, then without any distractions, though in the end you agreed anyway.

Your partner was too adorable, giving you the sad puppy look when you first declined. Now he was more like a cat, sleeping soundly in your lap. Was this position even comfortable? You wondered, and maybe it would be better to bring them to the bedroom first. Yea, probably, you were going to do that in a few minutes. Even though your wrists were sore from typing all day long, you tried to focus and get this over with. The sound of a break was getting more alluring with each passing second.

Suddenly, you felt the male move in your embrace, it seems he woke up. The boy clenched his eyes shut, taking a moment to get used to the light before he yawned. Then he turned around to stare at your computer. Still writing, huh. “You are still working?” He asked you, now hugging you tighter than before. You gave him a small nod, then moved one hand away from your keyboard and stroked his hair. Afterwards, you engulfed yourself in your work fully again.

He was used to this now. You always had so much to do, but he wasn’t going to let this ruin the relationship of you two. Now that he was awake, he started to repeat his previous antics. Soon you felt his lips on your neck, gently kissing your skin. True, he has done that a while ago too, nonetheless you were still surprised. This was his way of encouraging you, with love and affection, but you thought he was trying to annoy you. Even so you weren’t going to say anything, or scold him, he was too adorable for that.

The boy had the opportunity to plant three more kisses on your neck until you closed your computer and returned the hug he gave you. All this time while he was keeping you company, the warmth radiating from his body was very comfortable. It felt like you were sitting next to a fireplace. He glanced back at you, asking sweetly, “are you finally done?” Once again you nodded, and then the boy tried to get up from your lap. However you didn’t let him, you only continued to hold him close to you. “Let’s stay like this.. a bit longer.” You whispered, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. The air tickled his neck, and he slumped back into your arms. “Alright then..”

[blackfire-fanfiction]

Leo and Leon from my Soul Switching AU drop into the @tmntbestsibscompetiton!

[Soul Switching: Rise Leo and 2012 Leo switch with each other when they sleep. Two people sharing their life with the other causes drama. Leo is 2012, Leon is Rise]

Two blue portals – one a bright, electric shade and the other a more dull and calm color – opened above a large area with many different kinds of people wandering about.

The only problem? The portals were angled so when two turtle mutants fell out of them they collapsed on top of each other.

The two groaned, shifting and collapsing into an even bigger mess on the floor.

“Ugh, what hit me?” The red-eared slider mutant, shifted to prop himself arms with his arms.

The other quickly got his bearings, immediately sitting up when he heard the familiar voice. “Leon?”

The red-eared slider turned. “Leo? What are you doing here? I was not expecting another one of these situations to be happening.”

“I don’t think this is another situation like that…” Leo looked around, trying to figure out what happened. “Huh. This isn’t my world, but it isn’t yours either. It seems to be some sort of place where multiple worlds can hang out? I mean there’s a lot of versions of us here, so maybe there’s a big threat that needs to be handled that needs a bunch of us helping out.”

Leon rolled his eyes fondly. “Dude. Chill. There’s literally a big banner that says ‘TMNT Best Sibs Comp’, so I don’t think there’s a big threat to the universe or anything like that.”

“Comp? Like competition?” Leo asked, interested. He got a competitive gleam in his eyes. “How do we win?”

“I have no clue. But hey! At least we’re in our own bodies. It’d suck if we just got thrown here while we were switched.” Leon said, standing up. “But we can agree that this is so cool, right? Just like Jupiter Jim and the Jim Jupiters!”

“I think you mean Space Heroes Episode 329: The Trans-Dimensional Crew!” Leo responded. “But heck yeah this is cool! I know we’ve kinda already had the whole other worlds thing figured out, but this is wayyy different. There’s so many different versions of you around here!”

Leon grinned. “I know right!? I wonder if everyone here has the switching thing. I know there’s probably differences between each group, but not everyone, right? Also JJ and the JJs is way better than that Space Heroes episode. 20 minutes of a tv series is nothing compared to a full JJ movie!”

“Yeah it’d be so weird if we’re the only versions of us that switch. Wait, what if the switching isn’t with us, but with our brothers!” Leo gasped. “And how dare you disrespect Space Heroes. Just because it’s a show doesn’t make it any worse that Jupiter Jim. I’ll even say it makes it better than Jupiter Jim!”

“Oh my god, imagine a world where Donnie switches! Jupiter Jim’s better.”

“I’m pretty sure your brother would have somehow just consumed my Donnie’s soul. There’s no way those two would be able to coexist like we do. There’s no beating Space Heroes.”

“Don’t doubt your Donnie, just because mine is more showy with his craziness doesn’t mean yours isn’t equally unhinged. Jupiter Jim.”

“You know who’s really unhinged? My Raph. Especially compared to yours. Space Heroes.”

“Ha! They would never be able to hide it! There’s no way they could ever pretend to be the same person — they’re just too different! Jupiter Jim.”

“Just imagine Raph in Raph’s huge body. Space Heroes.”

“Honestly a bit terrifying. Jupite– oh look, a bracket! Looks like a tournament style thing. Though only the first matchups are shown…” Leon got distracted from the back and forth by a big screen showing the standings.

“Hm? Where are we on it?” Leo turned his head to see where Leon was looking, scanning the list.

“I don’t know, there’s a bunch of weird names for each group. Which makes sense, it’s not like they can just write our names, with everyone being the same person and all.” Leo drummed his shell as he looked.

“Soul Switching? You think that’s us?” Leo asked.

“Where’s that? Oh, yeah, could be. Bit on the nose, isn’t it?” Leon stared at the bracket. “Wait, does that mean that we’re the only people that switch?”

Leo shrugged. “I guess it was always a possibility. It is a little weird though. There’s so many people here, and none of them switch like us?”

“That’s what I’m saying! Who are we up against, anyway?” Leon squinted at the screen.

“Some group titled Separated Leo? I have no idea what that could mean for our chances. And none of the Leos around here seem to be alone. Maybe we should ask around? Figure out what group we’re up against?” Leo scanned the crowd. “I’m sure we’ll be able to beat them with no struggle― wait why did I just get a foreboding feeling. We’re not going to lose that bad, right?”

--- This is the first time I've really written anything solid for these two, so the characterization is a bit wonky.

[swishysword]

Tilesets used:

Starlight Furnace - Hercynian Lowlands

Lazarus - VTT Sci-Fi Tactical Map

On FoundryVTT, using Grapejuice Isometrics.

This week on Saturday lancer, the party began their dragon hunt on Caliburnus. They'd need to trek through the wilderness, using their skills to avoid riling up the forest too much while approaching their prey. They opted to take the river path, and ran into the Metal Men.

While previous Cynthia seemed to have made a good impression on them, at the sight of Ea (Ria's mech), they were sent into a frenzy and started attacking the party.

Mission deets under cut:

Mission // 005

Dragon Hunt

After the tense mission on Ulone Fortuna Wing decides to travel first to Cephus for vacation, and then to Caliburnus once Dandelion's curiosity of the oddities regarding Arianna's home become too much to bear. Caliburnus is an incredibly dangerous world, and simply leaving the settlement necessitates being in a mech suit lest one perishes.

Driven to seek answers, the party requests a chance to hunt a dragon as Arianna has mentioned them before, and Maeve grants them the right—but no more than that—to drive off Tiarna Dóiteáin who has nested close enough to be a risk. Arianna hopes to speak with the other Cursed Ones in order to find why Ea has gone silent, but before that they must succeed in hunting the Lord of Fire…

Goals

Find the Lord of Fire's resting place.

Drive the "dragon" off.

Enemy OPFOR

Wildly varied local flora and fauna, likely primarily biological units.

Though the locals and Arianna are familiar with the wildlife, that does not necessarily translate into Scan-quality knowledge.

Potential encounters include: Metal Men, Centaurus, Ironbeaks, Steel Crackers, Furnace Flowers, Shambling Trees, Vine Men, Luring Snappers, Rolling Clickers, Web Swarmers, Strangling Waters, Living Flames, Moving Forests, and Dragon Scales.

Reserves

Environmental shielding (On Ria)

Boosted Servos

Access

Knowledge

Special Conditions

Living World: At the start of every Round, roll 1d6. On 4+, the location of every character that moved last Round is targeted by "Living Thorns", which activate at the end of the current Round.

Choking Miasma: Areas around fungal terrain count as Hard Cover, but units within them cannot draw Line of Sight outside of them. These areas are designated by Purple measurement templates.

Hostile Flora: Ending a turn in soft cover granted by plants deals 1 AP Kinetic damage. Any attempt to clear out plant-based soft cover must deal a minimum of 5 damage in a single attack, otherwise the cover is unaffected. Fire/fire-effects from attacks or abilities do not spread, unless explicitly stated by it.

River Path

The Great Tree that Làirig Dhrù rests upon condenses much of the local rainfall, converting it into flowing rivers leading down. Following this flow allows for quick traversal, assuming you're willing to risk the dangers involved.

Primary Objective: Defeat all enemy units.

Secondary Objective // 1: Allow a Metal Man to summon a Moving Forest, then defeat it. (0/1)

Reward: x1 CORE battery As a rule, even the most hostile of flora seem to respect the Metal Men. Likely due to their inedible nature, and tendency to care for them.

Special Conditions

Torus: Moving into one of the Torus's hexes immediately causes that unit to be randomly teleported to one of the other Torus hexes.

Enemy comp for this map includes:

Metal Men, who are Tokolosh (Field Guide to Mfecane) Veterans with a special ability to affect both Biological units with tech attacks and spend a Full Action to summon Reinforcements. Their gimmick is to Lure players out of hiding, slap them with Death Clock to force a player to maintain Danger Zone. This combos with—

Ironbeaks, who are Nosferatu (Lancer Enhanced Combat) that primarily hunt high heat targets. While not mandatory, I played them as predator animals mostly focused on hunting down high heat (both player and enemy), so they mostly hover out of combat and only swoop in when someone hits the Danger Zone. The Bite to absorb heat, then attack repeatedly with Talon once exposed. +Heat Seeking to make their targeting priorities clear. Slightly customized with the Monstrosity's +Winged.

Furnace Flower Seedlings, who are Stormcallers (Field Guide to Liminal Space) with the Turret Template (Maximum Threat) +Fixed. Their job is to mostly be a long range nuisance on the other side of the river, forcing players to deal with them or slowly get burned and impaired.

Spear Roots, who are Monstrosities with +Natural Camouflage and +Burrower. They only activate when someone is within LOS and Sensors, and then will target whoever they think is the weakest. Mostly just a hassle.

Vine Blights, Monstrosity Grunts with the Revenant Template (Maximum Threat), whose gimmick is being able to survive dying once (unless overkilled enough to remove the wreckage). Low risk but demanding two actions across two Rounds to put down for good.

Vine Men, Barricades with the Horror Template (Dustgrave), but really just for a custom trait called +Living that turns them Biological. Comes with +Drag Down to be a threat to the team's Nelson.

Walking Forest, a Brute (Lancer Enhanced Combat) Veteran with a renamed +Grafted Weapon who job it is is to be a big scary meatshield.

Had to call it at the top of Round 4, we rolled Living Thorns going off every Round. Burst 4, attack roll for 4 AP Kinetic damage Hull Save vs Prone, miss halves damage and no Prone. Not supposed to be huge damage (and the attack roll means our Saladin's abilities can help reduce damage or risk), but makes a constant pressure on the players when it goes off. You can only ever be attacked by a single Living Thorn no matter how many aoes you are in.

[kaiserkisser]

HEY BABEEEE hope youre feeling well (if its okay to call you that?? PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF IT ISNT) i saw you had a fever☹️ jm so sorry i havent been in your inbox lately this week has been SO crazy i couldnt even begin to lore drop for you. Tell me EVERYTHING thats been going on as soon as you feel well enough to okay??

Also i got your oc ask!! Im so sorry i totally forgot to tell you!!! I. Legitimately am trying to figure out how to use my screenreader for you in this very moment so i can read it just because my eyes are really bad at reading and i wanna learn about her so bad!!!!’ Promise promise promise i will answer so soon dyslexia just got the best of me😭✌️ from what i CAN read though she is a kickass character and i would love to hear every thought you have about her

I love you SOOOOOOOOO MUCH have an amazing friday hon!! Tell me how your day goessss

HELLOO DARLINGGG (OFC OFC ITS FINE DW AND LMK IF UR FINE WITH BEING CALLED THAT TOO! i usually like to ask before using nicknames so i dont accidentally make anyone uncomfy! <3) and the fever is gone thankfully!! somehow i have a cold now?? but eh whatever itll be gone soon im sure heh AND OMG IVE TOLD U NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE???? I UNDERSTAND SJDJEJEH if you apologize one (1) more time for not being able to drop by istg- (im being a hypocrite but wtv this is about YOU!!!) and when is your life NOT crazy tbh /j/j im ALL EARS if you wanna talk about your week omg

ITS ALRIGHTTT and i see i see no need to say sorry tis totally fine!!! huh wait ill see if i can scan the pages and make it into text bc i think thatll be easier to read than blurry handwriting 💀💀 bc i dont think ill actually be able to write all that into a doc bc of uh this essay writing comp that i have to write over the weekend along with coaching n extra school + 10 DAYS FOR THE EXAMS????! IM SO SO UNPREPARED HOLY FUCK IDK BIO AND I HAVENT EVEN TOUCHED GEO AND HISTORY IM DEAD i am SO dropping these subjects after this grade djhshshdhdj

UNO REVERSEE I LOVE YOU SO SOOOOOOO MUCH TOOOOOOO you have an amazing friday too!! (I think itll be like vv early morning rn for you when im answering this?)

[femmesandhoney]

so genshin related question, but do you have any tips on how to read and learn the characters compatibility and skills just by looking at their desc. I feel utterly lost whenever I try to make sense of games where I got to learn a characters skills and utilize that properly when matching them up or giving them artifacts etc…

idk what desc means (description?) but yeah really all you need to read is their second and third talents to get the gist of the character. sometimes some stuff is hidden in cons you may have, but often nothing game-changing. most times a characters talents will tell you basic stuff that you should look for first: what they scale off of and what their kit is primed for (healing, dmg, support, etc). if it's not clearly stated, they probably scale off atk

Usually, a DPS "build" is their stat-of-choice sands, elemental goblet, and crit circlet. An example of this: Hu Tao is a DPS who scales off HP. This will often be found in the second talent/skill slot. So Hu Tao has her ATK increased based off her HP (stat of choice). It also states her atks when you activate her skill deals pyro dmg and a charged atk applies "blood blossom" which is a fancy way to describe off-field dmg she can inflict on enemies. The thing is with genshin, DPS chars are often the easiest to understand their kits right off the bat. Even though it has flowery language, most DPS kits are quite straight forward in that their E or Q hits big dmg and that's all you really gotta build towards. Some DPS talents will explain "stacking" that some chars have, such as Heizou or Raiden, which is sometimes harder to parse out in all the word fluff, so if you feel you're not quite understanding what the talents mean, watch a guide video and *see* it in action. That often helps me if something is just confusing, which especially for supports it is...

Now the actual bread and butter confusion I think comes from Hoyo making shit way more flowerly than it needs to be, especially for support characters. I think reading Furina's talents for the first time gave me an aneurysm I won't lie

Within this absolute mess of an explanation, you should always find where stuff is highlighted in color, that will often help you find the "important" sentences in the sea of words. Furina deals hydro dmg based off her HP. When she's on your team and you use her skill, your team members lose HP in order to deal more DMG.

Fanfare stacks are just another fancy stacking mechanic that you as the player have to meet the "reqs" for in order to get bigger dmg, that's all stacks mean at the end of the day. You don't need to really try to understand every single thing here, but that you found her stat-of-choice, how to trigger her stacks (fanfare stacks when chars heal or lose HP), and what it does (increase the DMG dealt by party members). This all points to Furina being an HP scaling support or sub-DPS, as she isn't necessarily DPSing anything herself. All her dmg comes from her elemental skill, which does a lot of dmg, but a majority of her kit also comes from her dmg-boosting burst.

Overall, that's really how I "quick read" talents to understand their skill and burst quick. Otherwise, a great way to understand them is just to play them in the trial, take your time reading and seeing how the character work. Most times characters have either their E or their Q be their main source of dmg, so you can scan talents to figure out which that might be as you check them out. Ei is a burst DPS and her major damage stacks will come from her burst, whereas someone like Heizou gets all his stacks in his skill and his burst is a just some minor crowd control, for example. So not every character is minor skill damage and massive burst damage, and sometimes that can be helpful depending on the playstyles you prefer.

In terms of team comp, oof. I would say that knowledge comes from two places: check out meta theory crafters who in-depth can explain a char's best teams for X, Y, Z reasons or test them out in your own teams if you have the character waiting. Second, elemental reactions is a huge part of this game. If you dislike playing certain reactions, this will limit the roster of characters you need to worry about since a lot of characters in genshin aren't really universal supports, but geared to support a specific char/reaction. You may have heard of teams like National/Rational, which utilizes a core team of Bennett, Xingqiu, and Xiangling. These three are considered like universal good supports in the game no matter the reactions you're playing, for the most part, and they're always safe bets to pair with your DPS or on-fielder. Some characters like Gorou for Itto, Sara for Raiden, or Yun Jin for Yoimiya are niche and made for those 5 stars, so throwing them into random comps won't often benefit you much. Otherwise, a team really can work as long as you understand the elemental reactions you're trying to get from the team. For example, my favorite reactions are vape (pyro and hydro), overload (pyro and electro), and i guess taser (hydro and electro). So when I saw Gaming, I decided I wanted to try him in a vape comp, and grabbed units that would create those reactions I wanted to try (Mona, Xingqiu, flex slot). That's often a good way to start testing out team builds: slot characters into elemental reaction comps and go from there. By playing with them, you can feel if the rotation flows well or not or if you just dislike a playstyle. Many characters are flexible enough that as long as you're aiming for certain reactions as your starting point, you should be good testing. But if you're still not sure, again, check out theory and build guides! I watch so many even now because meta can always change and sometimes I want to change my builds or teams and get stuck too.

Artifacts really depends on the teams you wanna run a character in and there are many builds that can slot as more universal, most characters have best in slot artifact sets and for the last two ish years genshin really curates an artifact set to a newly released character, making it more obvious "what" you should farm. ofc, there's lots of good artifact sets that can work on characters you wouldn't expect depending on how people are using that character. I recently put some golden troupe pieces on my fischl to make her more geared for dendro teams, and it's been fun, but i wouldn't have necessarily thought to do that unless i checked out some updated fish builds online and learned she was a good support in dendro comps. but really, if you stick to *their* artifact set you're likely gonna be just fine.

But also Genshin is quite forgiving in many ways and you should always try to play teams that feel fun and comfortable to you. One of my favorite teams since Furina's release is Raiden, Furina, Jean, and Kazu. It's not super meta, it's not anything insane, but it works well because I understand Jean supports Furina's kit, Kazu is my crowd control, Furina does her sub-dps stuff, and Ei funnels energy into everyone else to make sure Furina can reach her max stacks, and since everyone has so much ER, it benefits Raiden whose own stacks come from making sure the rest of the party bursts often. I've played with many of those characters long enough to figure this team out for myself based on information I learned from the community (Jean being a great support for Furina) and my own learning from having played with Raiden and Kazu for longer. So again, a lot of the time teams can be slapped together and work just fine as long as you're goals are being met, whatever they are, from that team.

And it's always more fun to play teams with characters you enjoy playing even if it's not "meta". Also idk how long you've been playing genshin, but eventually a lot of this becomes very intuitive so don't stress too hard. there's a learning curve, and then suddenly you'll be reading talents and understanding new kits with ease and forming teams better bc you've had just had the characters longer and have used them longer. easy peasy.

[mantleoflight]

X’s & O’s

Echo-17 lifted the braided cord, the tiny locks glinting along it like tiny rungs on a rope ladder. Secured to the end of it were three black X’s and one white circle, all with tiny holes in the middle of them where the locks fit and held them in place.

Beside her, Whisper drifted forward and scanned it curiously.

“What’s this for?” She asked, looking at her risen.

“It’s a Grace Counter,” Echo answered with a smile. “To help me keep track.”

“Of Grace?” Whisper asked incredulously.

“Sort of,” Echo said, lowering the cord. “It’s to record how many times I choose Grace. How many times it takes to make a difference, how many times it takes to make it habit.”

“Make it a habit?” Whisper asked, looking between the cord and her guardian.

“Yeah, a habit. I read a script from the Golden Age about it, how everything begins as an influence. Influences become thoughts. Thoughts lead to decisions which then become actions. All these things repeated become habits and from what the book said, what you do habitually will affect and maybe determine the trajectory of your life.”

Echo paused, twisting the cord ends between her fingers. “I don’t like the trajectory my life’s been on,” she murmured. “And I know it’s been my own choices doing it. So I’m trying to change my habits one habit at a time to change my trajectory.”

“And that’s why you have the X’s and O’s?” Whisper asked, looking at her risen.

“Yeah,” Echo said with a nod. “I know Ikora used A’s instead of O’s but I liked O’s better. And I know you’re gonna say you can keep count for me, but… I need something to help me keep count. Something that feels more… real. Tangible. Something that won’t be easy for me to forget.

Whisper gazed down at the cord and then at the small bundles of others just like it. She stared at it pensively before giving a nod. “Alright. Well, as the one who usually vouches for the ‘no grace only biting’ route, I will do my best to refrain.” She paused and gave her guardian a squint. “No promises though. There are still people who need to be bit.”

Echo snickered and attached the first cord to her belt. “Well, with an attitude like that, you might end up completely changed!” She joked, poking her ghost.

“Ha! Changed for the better! You accept her grace or due by my hands, gna gna gna gna!” Whisper clamped her shell in a comping motion, earning more of get guardian’s laughter.

“Heheheh! That���s not how it works but hey good effort!”

“Whada you mean this isn’t how it works?” Whisper asked in mock offense. “This is totally how it works!”

Echo gave another laugh and pushed her ghost away, who laughed, making gnawing noises as she champed her shell. It felt nice being able to laugh again. Maybe it was signaling that at long last, they were finally beginning to heal.

[manonamora-if]

A SeedComp writing seed ask for the seed you submited:

The universe will end in an hour. This has been set with the start of dawn and cannot ever be changed. The universe has been explored completely, all life has been recorded and archived, nothing has been left unturned/unlearned/unknown.

And yet you stand, scanning a seed that does not appear in the knowledge bank. A seed never come across, never studied, never... anything. A seed that could maybe change everything.

Theoretically, would it work if the seed's origins are revealed at the end of the short game, to be from another layer of the universe (the universe layer where the protagonist is in, is ending but not the whole universe), right at the last sentence of the game, making it possible for the story to have a sequel (part two) which can be used for the next SeedComp? Can the seeds submitted this year, be used next year too?

Hi Anon!

Your entry can transform and use the seed as you see fit. From re-interpretation, just a hint, or staying faithful to the original material, you get to choose where you want to take it. You get to interpret the seed however you want! If you want to make a cliff-hanger or set up an Anon-Seed-Universe, go for it! (Though, I am really happy this seed piqued your interest ;) and that idea sounds neat!)

As for using the seeds of this year in a future edition... not really. Creators submitted those pieces with the agreement that they could be used for this competition and this edition only. A seed may reappear in a future edition, if it has not be used in a previous edition and if the creator resubmit. But in the case of sequels... this is something that I would need to discuss with the other organisers. Ask @seedcomp-if in like 2-3months? I should have an answer then :P

BUT, I can tell you what my position is for my seeds: permission is already granted :P I've mentioned it some weeks ago that I will leave my seeds (except the UI, it will be a template), and any other prompt in this collection, available for anyone to use in the future (under the CC-BY licence). So if you want to create a sequel at the next edition of the SeedComp! (if it happens, crossed fingers) or in a different comp/jam, or even as is, it is all good in my book! Note: that collection also includes random stuff, only the [Prompts] are free to use. Note 2: this is my personal position on the matter, and obviously doesn't apply to other creators' seed (just in case).

Looking forward to see what you do with it!

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 13/4 - 2

Yup! The Alpha timeline offers a novel solution to the problem of Sylladex capacity. If the Captcha index only needs to be consistent in the Alpha timeline, then it doesn't have to worry about reserving index space for every possible item.

If this is how things work, then the Sylladex isn't predestined, per se - it's enforced. Everyone has a finite set of objects that they're allowed to captchalogue, and if you pick up anything else, your index is invalidated - and your timeline is pruned.

You could still call it predestination, if you were so inclined, but that's only partially accurate. It's more that you're coerced into 'choosing' one particular destination - or else.

I'm loving these voice headcanons. Scratch as Emperor Belos is inspired.

What the hell? That's amazing.

Based on my (admittedly limited) experience with web administration, it's not all that surprising, either. Hacks like this are shockingly common.

No worries! The vast majority of followers don't actually interact with these posts' notes, but I still assume they're reading them. Just a quirk of Tumblr's norms.

My best guess is that the drones would arrive when the troll is on the cusp of adulthood, shortly before they leave Alternia. That would give them as much time as possible to form potent relationships - which would, in turn, give the Empire the most potent wrigglers.

I still think it would motivate younger trolls, though. I mean, if all single people are executed at eighteen, you might feel a little pressure to enter the dating game early.

Never forget the Der-sayer incident.

Rereading it, Karkat scans as sad, angry, resigned, confused, lonely, and trying to bottle up an avalanche of "FRESH RAGE."

I think we're both half right, here - he's drowning in a tide of pretty much every negative emotion imaginable.

Thank you!! We triple-checked, and it seems like Tumblr ate the first half of this ask :(

Much appreciated, though!! I love that metaphor for coming up with scattershot theories.

Oh, that makes sense. Can't believe I missed a Hussie pun, but that one was a little harder to notice.

This makes it sound like the universe is tethering her to life, just as she tethers it. What is up with this lady?

That's true! I'm pretty sure it's both.

I'd always imagined Equius as being pretty tall. They're all the same height in sprite art though, so I think it's another case of sprite art being non-representative.

I'm withholding judgement on the Meowrails until we get more interactions between them. Their early conversations were a little worrying, but it's possible that Hussie hadn't fully fleshed out the concept of Moirallegiance at the time. We'll see how they interact now that how their quadrant works has been expanded on.

[ Problem sleuth is still hosted there😁- C ]

It still seems to work for me!

Oh, fun! I guess John's birthday does sort of fall into a half-pattern with the others.

Still, it would have made more sense for him to be in a line with the other Players - his Chumhandle doesn't match theirs, either, so maybe John's just a weird case.

Thank you! I feel like this sort of analysis can only really be applied to fictional characters, though. Everything a character says or does is the result of a deliberate choice made by a writer, and I can use my knowledge of that fact to frame my analysis.

In real life, though, people just say shit - often for no reason, or for reasons they don't understand themselves. People are a lot more complicated than even the most well-written character, and understanding them requires a whole different skillset!

Someone also posted Hussie's author comment about this. It's been years since I watched the movie - and if I recall correctly, it was also pretty meta itself. Maybe I need to watch it again, as reading material for Homestuck.

ferretlady97 submitted: talking about the book commentary reminded me of something i was gonna send you when the troll black queen took off her ring but forgot "Note that when she takes the ring off six orbs are filled. Three players from the blue team have entered the session, and three from the red team. Aradia was the second of the blue team to enter. Nepeta was third. Aradia's entry is when the frog mutations took effect on the ring-wearer. And then an interval passed before Nepeta's entry. Which means the queen actually spent a decent amount of time looking like a frog, deliberating whether or not she could put up with this for an entire game session. Ultimately, she couldn't hang in there. But this does imply she at least tried." i just think it's funny thanks for your time

The language used here - the fact that she couldn't 'put up' with her transformation into a frog, and couldn't 'hang in there' - seems to imply that doing so harms her in some way.

All the frog symbolism is still a closed book to me. What exactly does Bilious Slick represent or symbolize that Derse hates so much?

[ you got another ask about LOLCAT but it has classpect spoilers so I'm saving it for later - C ]

I suppose that could work - but then again, it seems that 25% of all Lands have some association with water, so it can't always represent Life. I do want to come back to this later, though, when the Classes and Aspects are better defined.

Send away! It'll be a while until I use them, though.

I appreciate it! That's a minimum bound that I'd have to pick up the pace to reach, at this point.

Hey, what can I say? I'm here for a good time, and a long time. >:)

I keep forgetting that LOSS is a references to a fanfic. I associate it more with you, the LOSS Anon!

If she can't, she's definitely phrasing things in a misleading way, trying to imply that she can. The Tavros scene is arguable, but I really can't think of any other way to interpret how she talks about the Consorts, unless she's straight up lying - and she really doesn't do that much.

Vriska 100%s the game, but skips all the cutscenes?

...yeah, I can see it. Every side quest is another chance to win!!!!!!!! >::::)

[commonplacelit]

EOD handled the bombs. SSTP treated the wounds. PRP processed the bodies. The o8s fired DPICM. The MAW provided CAS. The o3s patrolled the MSRs. Me and PFC handled the money.

If a sheikh supported the ISF, we distributed CERP. If the ESB destroyed a building, we gave fair comp. If the 03s shot a civilian, we paid off the families. That meant leaving the FOB, where it's safe, and driving the MSRs.

I never wanted to leave the FOB. I never wanted to drive the MSRs or roll with 03s. PFC did. But me, when I got 3400 in boot camp, I thought, Great. I'd work in an office, be a POG. Be the POG of POGs and then go to college for business. I didn't need to get some, I needed to get the G.I. Bill. But when I was training at BSTS, they told me, You better learn this, 3400s go outside the wire. A few months later, I was strapped up, M4 in Condition 1, surrounded by o3s, backpack full of cash, twitchiest guy in Iraq.

I did twenty-four missions, some with Marine 03s, some with National Guardsmen from 2/136. My last mission was to AZD. A couple of Iraqis had driven up fast on a TCP. They ignored the EOF, the dazzlers and the warning shots, and died for it. I'd been promoted to E4, so PFC was taking over consolation payments, but I went with him to give a left-seat right-seat on working off the FOB. PFC always needed his hand held. In the HMMWV it was me, PFC, PV2 Herrera, and SGT Green. Up in the turret on the 240G was SPC Jaegermeir-Schmidt, aka J-15.

There wasn't a lot to look at on the MS south of HB. We scanned for all the different types of IEDs AQI would throw at us. IEDs made of old 122 shells, or C4, or homemade explosives. Chlorine bombs mixed with HE. VBIEDs in burned-out cars. SVBIEDs driven by lunatics. IEDs in drainage ditches or dug into the middle of the road. Some in the bodies of dead camels. Others daisy-chained together-one in the open to make you stop, another to kill you where you stand. IEDs everywhere, but most missions, nothing. Even knowing how bad the MSRs were, knowing we could die, we got bored.

PFC said, "It'd be cool to get IED'd, 'long as no one got hurt."

J-15 snapped, said, "That's bad juju, that's worse than eating the Charms in an MRE."

Temp was 121, and I remember bitching about the AC. Then the IED hit.

PV2 swerved and the HMMWV rolled. It wasn't like the HEAT trainer at Lejeune. JP-8 leaked and caught fire, burning through my MARPATs. Me and SGT Green got out, and then we pulled PV2 out by the straps of his PPE. But PV2 was uncon-scious, and I ran back for PFC, but he was on the side where the IED hit, and it was too late.

PFC's Eye Pro cracked and warped in the heat. The plastic snaps on his PPE melted. And even though J-15 left his legs. behind, at least he got CASEVAC'd to the SSTP and died on the table. PRP had to wash PFC out with Simple Green and peroxide.

The MLG awarded me a NAM with a V. Don't see too many 3400s got a NAM with a V. It's up there next to my CAR and my Purple Heart and my GWOT Expeditionary and my Sea Service and my Good Cookie and my NDS. Even 03s show respect when they see it. But give me a NAM with a V, give me the Medal of Honor, it doesn't change that I'm still breathing. And when people ask what the NAM is for, I say it's so I don't feel bad that I was too slow for PFC.

In boot camp, the DIs teach you Medal of Honor stories.Most recipients were KIA. Their families didn't get a. homecoming, they got a CACO knocking on their door. They got SGLI. They got a trip to Dover to see Marines lift the remains out of a C-130. They got a closed casket, because IEDs and SAF don't leave pretty corpses. The DIs tell you these stories over and over, and even a POG like me knows what they mean.

So I tell my family, "I'm staying in-the G.I. Bill can wait." And I tell my OIC, "Sir, I want to go to OEF. OEF's where the fight is now." And I tell my girlfriend, "Okay, leave me." And I tell PFC, "I wish it'd been me," even though I don't mean it.

I'm going to OEF. As a 3400. As a POG, but a POG with experience. I'll distribute CERP again. I'll roll with 03s again. And maybe I'll get IED'd again. But this time, out on the MSRs, I will be terrified.

I will remember the sounds PFC made. I will remember that I was his NCO, so he was my responsibility. And I will remember PFC himself as though I loved him. So I won't really remember PFC at all--not why I gave him low PRO/CONs, not why I told him he'd never make E4.

Instead I will remember that our HMMWV had 5 PX. That the SITREP was 2 KIA, 3 WIA. That KIA means they gave everything. That WIA means I didn't.

Phil Klay, “OIF.”

[diedieri]

Okay I think tumblr ate my last post so I'm trying again. I just NEED to share this artwork erica did for Xmas for me. It is of one of my original characters and his 'cat' in a story I'm writing. I LOVE.

[no-droids]

A Show of Good Faith

Part Six of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.1k what i fuckin tell yall

Warnings: SMUT, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie, canon-typical violence, slight description of blood/injury

***

Isn’t it weird that nobody really ever talks about what happens immediately after you have a dead body in front of you?

It’s the part leading up to it that’s usually the most crucial, obviously.  The adrenaline of the actual moment is overwhelming—you react without thinking, danger pumping through your veins alongside your blood and sharpening your survival instincts until they’re deadly.  You do what you have to do to stay alive, nothing more.  So it’s not really until you have a still moment with the evidence of your actions right there in front of you, glassy-eyed and staring lifelessly up at the ceiling, that you suddenly don’t know what to do.

Shocking is a word.

Debilitating is another.

Things… things come in flashes.  You have blood on your hands; it’s thick and cold and electric blue in color, not dark or warm or crimson.  One of them is vibrating violently, clutched around something heavy and clunky and unfamiliar, something with a handle made to fit a six-fingered grip.  The kid is passed out in your other arm after expelling all his energy helping you take down the brutal assailant, choking him with… with some unknown baby shaman toad powers and holding him in place so you could grab this knife and you could… and you could…

The body of the man you just stabbed lays in a bloody pile on the floor in front of you.  It was self-defense, but the reasoning behind it doesn’t take anything away from the gore, the blank state of shock rendering you motionless for Maker knows how long.

Corellia is a fucking shithole, you knew that coming in.  If it was a sewer even with the Empire’s shipbuilding industry boosting the economy, it’s even worse after its collapse.  To circumvent any unnecessary danger or attention, you chose to land the ship in one of the dense forest areas on the outskirts of the tracking fob’s radius.  But unluckily for you, rats like forests just as much as they like sewers, and one of them apparently crawled his way onto the vessel a few minutes ago.

You drop the vibroblade to the floor with a clatter and slide down the hull wall, clutching the baby to your chest and trying to calm your breathing.  There could be more of his friends close by.  What you should do is climb into the cockpit and find somewhere else to lay low, send Mando a coded message with word of your new location.

But there’s a dead body in front of you.

And it’s… it’s dead.

Strangely, you default to something you’ve never actually done before.  Something you probably shouldn’t ever do, in case your companion is in stealth mode or trying to hide from something, because it’ll immediately give away his position.  You could theoretically get him killed, but you’re not thinking straight.

Your wrist trembles as you hold it in front of your lips.  “Uh… M-Man-Mando?”

The sound of blaster fire and grunting crackles through your emergency comm link, before you hear a quick, breathless, “What’s wrong?” come through the speaker.

“It, uh—” you stare down at the oddly-colored blood on your fingers, wondering how you voice is able to come out so calmly, “it s-sounds like you’re busy, I’ll—I’ll just—”

More grunting.  A thud.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You’re at a loss for words.  You take a second to look down at the dead body, before lifting your wrist back up to your mouth.  “I’m o-okay now, but I… but someone followed me into the Crest and he tried to… I-I mean he’s—he’s dead now, but—”

“Are you hurt?”  He suddenly sounds urgent.  It’s ridiculous that he didn’t actually sound urgent until now.  “Is the kid hurt?”

“We’re—we’re both fine, but…”  You look down at the child in your arms.  “But the baby did something I—I c-can’t explain—and now he’s… I-I think he's asleep…”

“Good,” he replies shortly.  You can hear him running now, pounding footsteps and heavy, quick breaths.  Another blaster shot.  “We need to get out of here.  Rendezvous Sector-15, soon as you can.  You’ll see me.”

“Do I…”  Maker, you sound like an absolute idiot.  “Do I just… just leave the body here, or…?”

“I’ll take care of it when you get here.”  He doesn’t sound frustrated with you, but for some reason you feel incredibly frustrated with yourself.  You should be able to pull yourself together, but your hands are all tingly and you can’t actually feel your fingers unless you really work for it.  Stars, when’s the last time you actually blinked?  “Can you fly?”  

You don’t respond.  You don’t even feel like you can stand up right now.  The blaster shots scream through the crackling comm link for a second, and then you jump when he barks your name even louder than the gunfire.

“—Listen to me,” he urges, and you blink rapidly, the seriousness of his low growl hitting you right in the chest.  “You can fly.  Understand?  Get the kid, get in the cockpit, put your seatbelt on.  Fly out to me, right now.  We’re leaving.”

His voice doesn’t call for argument.  It’s abrasive and rough and unquestionable enough to get through to you.  Of course you can fly, you can fly with your fucking eyes closed.  Coming that firmly and doubtlessly from him, it’s a universal truth.

“Copy.  Sec-Sector-15.”  You say, adrenaline beginning to pump blood through your veins again.  Just.  Just don’t look at the body, okay?  Don’t look at the body, you can do this if you don’t look at the body.  “I’ll see you?”

“You’ll see me,” he repeats.  And then the noise cuts off with a click.

You struggle up to your feet, heart pounding.  You can do this.  You can totally do this.  You can walk, because you can fly.  Duh.  Mando said so.

You admittedly almost fall a couple steps down the latter while trying to climb up it one-handed, the baby held tightly to your chest, but you’re eventually able to get the both of you into the cockpit.  The kid is carefully buckled into his little booster seat before you’re collapsing shakily into the pilot’s chair and swiveling forward.

Okay.  Flight check.  Now.  To your left, flip down these few switches here—one two three four five—okay, good.  To your right, press those two buttons sitting just above the nav console.  Yep, got it.  Up top now, those two red ones overhead.  Good.  Good, you can do this.  Type coordinates into the nav comp.  Sector-15, locked.  Easy.  This is easy.  That big, knobless lever to your right—yes, the one with the exposed threading at the end, push that long metal stick forward and set thrusters to full.  Okay.  Left thruster, looks good.  Right looks good, too.  Okay.  Seatbelt… seatbelt is… Seatbelt: on.  Hatch: sealed.  Shields: engaged.  Flight check complete.  Now all you have to do is take off.

Now all you have to do is take off.

All you have to do… is…

You stare down at the joystick in front of you blankly.

And then you shake your head back and forth frantically, hoping the rapid movement will jar some sense into you.  Maker, get it the fuck together.  What did Mando hire you for?  You told him you were useful, didn’t you?  This is what you do.  You fly.  So fucking fly, yeah?

You lift the ship off the ground and immediately take her around southeast, taking deep breaths and feeling the powerful rumble beneath your chair.  Yeah, you can do this.  Don’t think about the blood on your hands, the dark streaks of sickly purple now smudged all over the controls.  Don’t think about the dead body in the hull.  Don’t think about how you’re the reason it’s dead.  Just fly the ship.  This is something you can do.

You coast over the thick treetops and into the industrial sector, carefully scanning the gritty streets below.  You don’t know what he meant when he said you’ll see him—until you suddenly see him.  Smack in the middle of the airspace, rising phoenix strapped to his back and hovering a few hundred feet above absolute chaos wreaking havoc in the slums below.  Blaster flares light up the night sky, though the sparks and flash grenades illuminating the dirty Corellian streets have nothing on the beauty of seeing those small twin jets in the darkness, the ones beginning to fly towards the ship.

“Got eyes,” his voice says through the comm link.  Relief pounds through you.  Stars, relief shouldn’t feel like this much of a struggle for your cardiovascular system, should it?

“Beginning deceleration,” you confirm breathlessly, slowing down and pressing a few buttons to open the hatch with your free hand.  You bring both of them back down to swing her around until he’s got a clear path, feeling the ship dip just slightly with the sudden weight of him dropping in.

“Landed,” he grunts.  “Set course for Nevarro.”

You floor it and elevate the Crest up through Corellia’s smoggy atmosphere, punching in coordinates in the meantime.  The ship dips just a touch once more while the computer takes a few seconds to calculate a hyperspace path, and your eyebrows narrow before it quickly pulls back up again.  It’s not until you see the manual hatch override indicator light blink next to the nav console that you realize he must’ve dumped the body before closing the door himself.

Well, that’s one way to handle that, you suppose.

The computer beeps quietly when it’s finished.  “Standby for jump,” you tell your wrist.

“Copy.”

You triple-check the positive seal integrity readings before your hand is reaching for the double-reinforced hyperjump control, still trembling slightly.  You lean all your weight forward into it, trying to keep your arm from buckling as the stars slowly shift across the observation shield for a split second, before you’re being hurled into the interdimensional wormhole.

Quiet.  Hyperspace is fucking quiet.  You forget, sometimes.  Not how quiet it is—but how loud everything else is, not until you’re hurtling through the closest thing to purgatory you’ll ever experience in life.  It looks… indescribable, even after the thousandth time.  Empty space collapsing in front of you and expanding behind you simultaneously.  Starlight streaking across the windows, space-time curving around the ship faster than the ship itself is moving through it.  You take a moment to consider it as you unbuckle yourself shakily, before standing up and checking the seat behind you.

The kid is still knocked out cold, but you press the button to close the shield to his crib just in case, setting an alarm protocol to Mando’s remote arm brace should it open.  

And then you slowly make your way around bulky cockpit chairs and down into the hull, shakily climbing down the ladder one step at a time.  As soon as you turn around, there’s a caped wall of beskar rummaging through something with his back to you.

“Did you…”  You announce yourself while looking around, trying not to sound as small as you feel.  This is a such stupid question, you already know what he did with the body.  But you… you should make sure, right?  “You already took care of… of the…”

“Yeah.”  Mando spins around and pulls out the cot from the wall at the same time, and you jump when the bed rattles loudly on its track and ricochets a few inches backwards after reaching its full extension.  He quickly makes his way around it and over to you.  “It’s gone.  Come here, you’re hurt.”

“I’m f-fine,” you insist, feeling your hands shake when he abruptly grabs the left one and turns it over, pulling your wrist out towards him and up to the light so you both can see.  “What about the qua—oh.”

There’s a long, ragged slice decorating the inside of your forearm, dried blood staining the ripped fabric along your sleeve.  You blink down at it, not able to recognize its pain even with the evidence of the injury in front of you.  It doesn’t look deep, but its edges are a little nasty and it’s still bleeding.  Why can’t you feel it?  Shouldn’t you be able to feel that?

He makes a noise through his helmet—something you can’t quite figure it out.  Something between a short growl and a low huff of breath, before he’s grabbing your hips and steering you over towards the bed, lifting you up and setting you on its suspended platform when you’re close enough.

“Didn’t find the quarry,” the Mandalorian says quietly, turning around and looking through the first aid kit once more.

“You didn’t find the…”  You blink down at your injury.  He didn’t even find the quarry?  But then what was all that ruckus about?  And why are you going back to Nevarro to collect payment?  Shouldn’t you be turning around and… and…?

He’s suddenly in front of you again, and this time he’s got a… a syringe in his hands?  An E-bacta shot, you realize with an uncomfortable jolt.  He pulls the cap off and sets it down on the bed next to you before holding out his gloved hand for you, waiting patiently but expectantly.

“No,” you immediately tell him, heart beginning to pump faster as you bring your arm up and hug it to your chest.  You didn’t even know those things were street legal—they heal incredibly quickly but people have been known to abuse them because… well, because they’re supposed to give you a wicked fucking high.  Bacta isn’t addictive and there’s no possibility of overdose, but this shit is concentrated.  You can’t imagine how expensive it was.  “Don’t b-be ridiculous, Mando—you—you almost bled out from a knife wound and we didn’t use one of those.”

“What do you think that is?”  He looks down at your arm.

“It’s a scratch!”  You exclaim, starting to feel a bit hysterical now from the adrenaline comedown.  Maker, that needle is big.  You knew bacta injections were thick but holy fucking stars.  “It doesn’t even h-hurt!  I could’ve… I could’ve done this to myself on accident for all I—”

“This has boosted antibiotics, too,” he cuts you off, quickly losing his patience and grabbing your wrist when you still don’t hand it over to him.  He levers your forearm down, holding it parallel to the floor on your lap.  “We don’t have any bacta kits left, I looked.  This’ll work fast and it won’t scar.  Hold still.”

“No—” you try to pull your hand away, hating the way your voice jumps when you’re aiming for calm and reasonable.  “—I’ll be fine, w-we shouldn’t waste th—”

He tightens his grip.  “Listen.  This isn’t a scratch.  It’s a torn laceration from a dirty Corellian vibroblade.  Now I’m giving you at least a quarter dose, so hold,” he tugs your wrist forward, “still.”

You see the large needle heading towards your arm with determination and you’re instantly going rigid with panic, whipping your head away from him and squeezing your eyes shut as you suck in a terrified breath.

You wait like a statue for the pain, frozen in anticipation and fright, but it never comes.  Slowly peeking one eye open, you look back to find a chrome visor staring intently at you, unmoving.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” you eventually gasp when he doesn’t say anything, and Maker, are your eyes actually starting to water?  “I-I’m sorry, I’m just—that’s a b-big needle and—and I actually just k-k-killed someone and it’s just—” oh stars, here come the sniffles, “—I’m s-so sorry, I’m trying t-to keep it—keep it togeth—”

He carefully places the syringe down on the bed next to you as you turn your head away from him and try to stifle your short, panicked breaths with the back of your hand.  But then you’re being caught and pulled forward, hauled into an iron chest without a single word.

It should be uncomfortable, you think.  You should want to take the armor off and feel the muscles of his arms wrap themselves tight around you instead of cold metal, but for some reason, you don’t.  He feels… right like this.  Like the beskar is a natural extension of his body, like it holds just as much comfort as his bare chest does.

The Mandalorian stands there between your knees and silently embraces you, holding stoic and steady for you, tilting his head so you can calm your breathing into the crook of his neck.  It’s covered in fabric but it smells like him, warm and soft and damp with sweat.  You breathe him in, clutching him tight with your uninjured arm and feeling your heartbeat gradually begin to slow as it’s pressed against cool metal.

“E-bacta has calming properties,” he says quietly after a moment.  “It’ll help more than this.”

“Shut up.”  You mutter against his throat, doing everything you can to drown yourself in him.  Maker, he smells good.  He just got finished bringing down an entire Corellian sector, why the fuck does he smell so good?  “I'm not—not letting you stick that thing in me.”

“Yeah?”  He returns softly, dragging a hand up your back.  “Bet I can make you want it.”

“Not happening,” you grunt, tightening your hold on him.  “You’ll put regular bandages on my arm until we can resupply on Nevarro and save that torture device for another poor soul who needs it.”

“This isn’t over,” he eventually warns you, gently pulling away.  He turns around and starts picking out gauze and tape from the first aid kit regardless.  “I was just blindsided.  Tears don’t work on me, but.  Don’t ever do that to me again.”

You relax, smiley and dopey-eyed and happily sticking your arm out for him for whenever he comes back, so fucking glad he gave in.  You’ll get bacta on Nevarro, that sounds perfect.  “So… so all that fuss and you didn’t actually find the quarry?”

“Someone tried to take off my helmet,” Mando replies shortly, starting to rip open a few packets of sterile gauze strips without looking at you.  And then he doesn’t say anything more, like that should be explanation enough.

“Ah.”  You remark after a second, thinking about how many blaster fires you saw.  Maker.  “I see.”

What a pair you two make.  Someone who went into shock from hurting another person in defense of your life, and someone who brought an entire block down because another person tried to take his helmet off.  

Something he’s done with you twice now.  Without ever being prompted.

Stars, you’re both so different, aren’t you?  Such massively different problems, different ways of life.  You’re suddenly struck with how much you could learn from him, if he was ever willing to share.  How much the both of you could probably learn from each other.  His assertiveness; your humanity.  His decisiveness; your consideration.  His secrets; your honesty.  None of them are true opposites, not in the way people normally think.  They’re not polarizing, they’re… complimentary.  Filling in the gaps neither one of you can fill in yourself.

“Does that scare you?”  He finally asks, when you’ve been quiet for too long.

“No,” you tell him blankly, watching his hands work.  “Just… no.  Not really.  I mean.  It makes sense.  Was just thinking about how different life must be for you.”  You tilt your head thoughtfully.  “Showing my face, telling people my name.  Things I take for granted, I think.”

Maker, maybe you’re getting a little too honest here.

“Is that why you never ask about those things?”  He’s quiet.  You both stare purposefully down at your arm as he begins laying down the strips of white cotton over your cut.  “Because you recognize what it means to give them up?”

“What—like your name?”

“Anything,” he says, and though he keeps working, his hands start to slow down.  “You never ask me about anything.  My name, my past… why I don’t take the helmet off.  Everyone always asks, but.  You never have.”

You shrug a shoulder.  “Figured you get tired of telling people no, don’t you?”

His fingers still, hovering over your injury.  He doesn’t move, so you elaborate.

“I mean… yeah, I’ve thought about those things, but…” you speak slowly, choosing your words very carefully.  Your eyes narrow with the effort, trying to pinpoint and voice your exact opinion without making assumptions.  “But I respect you.  And your creed.  I call you Mando because that’s what you told me to call you.  And if you don’t take the helmet off, then you don’t take it off.”  You shrug once more.  “Some things don’t need explanations.  They just are, and I’m okay with that.”

It’s a while before he goes back to dressing your wound, and even longer before he speaks again.  When he does, he’s almost completely finished securing the bandages and it’s barely above a murmur.  “Nobody usually thinks that simply about it.”

“Well.  Fuck ‘em.”  You blurt.  “I think it’s the simplest thing in the galaxy.  You should be the one who gets to decide who you are and what’s important to you, right?  No one else.”

He stops again, this time tilting his visor up to look you in your eyes.  You blink up at your own warped reflection.

“I think that shit is yours.  Fundamentally.  Doesn’t matter if you want to share it, change it, hide it, or burn it away forever.  It’s your decision, and you’ll tell people what you want them to know.  So fuck ‘em if they don’t respect that,” you tell him bluntly.  “They obviously don’t know anything about you at all.  Else they wouldn’t be asking.”

He doesn’t move.  He just stares silently at you for a few seconds, and Maker, for some reason you wish now more than ever you could see his face.  Even though it contradicts everything you just said, you wish you could see his face.  What color are his eyes?  You bet they’re brown.  You bet they’re a warm, deep brown—expressive and soft and lovely behind such hard, unforgiving steel.  His features are probably just as warm as the rest of him.  Dark hair, wavy hair.  Plush, gentle lips.

His hand comes up slowly.  Gives you ample time to pull away before he’s softly cupping your cheek, tilting his helmet to the side as he studies you.

“Would you.”  He’s quiet for a moment.  And then he clears his throat through the modulator, before he tries again.  “Would you like to know my name?”

You go shock-still, blinking at him and barely breathing.  Why?  Why is he asking this?  He wants to give you his name?  Immediately after you just told him why you don’t need it?

Your throat is a desert.  “Only… only if you want to give it to me.”

He tilts his head the other way and takes a moment to consider you, gently trailing the leather of his thumb along your bottom lip.  Your eyes dip down the length of his body, heat suddenly filling you when you realize how close and well he’s positioned right now, how his hips are at the perfect height standing right between your legs like this.

Mando slowly lowers his helmet to look down at your parted thighs, too.  And then he’s shifting the visor to the side just a bit, eyes catching on something on the bed next to you.  “Want to give you a few things,” he says lowly.

You probably would’ve melted into a puddle if he didn’t immediately hold up the E-bacta shot in front of you in both hands.

Your heart starts pounding though, all the same.  “No—”

“Listen to me,” he tells you calmly, as if you could do much of anything else right now with how much space he’s taking up in front of you.  His size and proximity gave you a thrill just a second ago, but now he’s nothing more than a giant fucking metal wall armed with a needle and blocking your escape.  “I want to give you a few things, but only if you say yes to all of them.  Are you going to listen?”

Maker, your heart is racing, rapid calculations going off in your head as your eyes flick between the syringe and his visor.  Where the fuck is he going with this?  “Y-yes.  I’ll—I’ll listen.”

He holds the shot up between the two of you, as if you didn’t see it the first fifty fucking times.  “First.  I’ll give you a quarter dose of this.  I’ll be gentle and I’ll give it to you somewhere where it won’t hurt, where you won’t even be able to see it, and it’ll make you feel better.  Even good.  Okay?”

You narrow your eyebrows at him.  “You’re not doing a great job at selling me h—”

“Second.  I’ll give you my name.”

Your breath catches.  He continues on casually with the terms of the deal, as if he didn’t just set your whole world on fire with five words.

“You can’t ever use it around other people,” he tells you.  “Only here.  With me, on this ship.  In front of the kid is fine.  But if anyone else ever asks, you don’t know it.  Okay?”

“Okay…” you whisper after a second, your chest filling with flames.

“Third.”  He slowly catches your uninjured wrist in a gentle grip and begins to guide it forward.  “If you… if you want, I’ll… I’ll give you this,” he murmurs, bringing it down to cup his cock.  “I… won’t be gentle.  But I will make you feel good.”

Maker, he’s already rock hard under your palm, throbbing and swollen for you.  Almost as quickly as the urge first came on, you suddenly don’t want to escape anymore.  Instead, maybe you can just… appeal.

“What if we…”  You carefully reach down into his pants, holding his hips still between your knees and beginning to caress his cock.  His skin is like silk under your hand, as hard as the beskar he straps to his body but so warm, and pulsing with life.  “What if we reverse the order, maybe?”

“No,” he grunts immediately.  “You’ll take the shot first, it’ll be a—” his breath catches when you give him a good, rough squeeze.  “—a-a show of—of good faith.”

“That’s literally the only thing I don’t want from this all-or-nothing deal,” you reason, wrapping your legs around him to bring him closer.  He acquiesces cautiously, slowly moving forward.  “I’d be an idiot to give it up first.  Ideally it should go second if there are three terms.”

“I know what you’re d-doing,” he tells you flat out, though he makes no attempt to stop it at all.  He just growls low in his throat when he’s close enough for you to lean up and bite down onto his neck, one of his hands landing on your thigh and locking down onto it tight.  “It won’t… won’t work.  You’re—you’re t-taking the shot first, that’s the deal.”

“I could try crying again,” you proposition breathlessly, squeezing his cock once more and feeling him shudder.

“Ngh—meant it when I—” he gasps when you brush your thumb over his head, dampening the fabric covering his neck with your hot breaths.  “When I-I said that you—you need to w-work on your… your negoti—tiating—”

“What if I just ask you really, really nicely?”  You whisper, slowly starting to jerk him off.  Your grip is tight and strong, and he practically sags and grabs the metal bedframe on either side of you.  “Will it work if I ask you to please fuck me?  Please?  And then I’ll take your shot?”  But then you’re struck by a sudden thought, and maneuver your head away just enough to look up at where his eyes should be.  “But we don’t… we don’t actually have to… y’know, do the other thing, though, if you don’t want to.  It’s okay.”

Mando abruptly pulls back, pinning you with a blank chrome stare.  “W-what?”

“If you…”  You want to find some way to word this to get the correct sentiment across, but it’s difficult with him looking at you so hard.  The last thing you want to do is sound ungrateful.  Your hands stop moving, carefully letting him go and resting on his hips instead, so he knows this isn’t you just trying to find some way out of this.  “You don’t have to tell me your name, y’know.  It’s okay, I’ll—I’ll take the shot, it’s fine.  We don’t need to… to turn something like that into a.  A deal, or anything.  You can still tell me if you want, of course, I just… I don’t want it to be part of like, some sort of… agreement between us, or something.”  You tap a thumb over his hipbone, tilting your head.  “So I’m taking it off the table.  Even if you were the one who put it on there.  No pressure.  I’ll take the shot.  And then you can tell me whatever it is you want to tell me after that.  Apart from that.  A… a show of good faith.”

Mando holds still as a fucking statue in front of you.  If you couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin under your hands, you’d say he looks like a droid in sleep mode almost.  He stays like that for so long, you actually start to worry a little bit.  Was that a thankless, bitchy thing to say to him after he offered to reveal such a big secret about himself?  Should you have just kept your mouth shut?

You suppose he was right, your negotiation skills could use a bit more work.  You did technically just… willingly give up something incredibly valuable in exchange for absolutely nothing in return, didn’t you?  Actually not absolutely nothing, you just agreed to have an actual fucking needle shoved into your body just so he wouldn’t feel any sort of obligation to reveal himself to you whatsoever.  That’s like… rule number one of what not to do when negotiating, isn’t it?  Fuck, what have you done?  Is it too late to take half of that shit back?  Can you start this whole thing over real quick?  How much pressure do you think that glass syringe can handle?  You know you can’t outrun or overpower him, but do you think you’d be able to smash it with your foot before he can stop you?  No.  No fucking way, you would.  Don’t be stupid, don’t be fucking stupid.

And Maker, he’s… he’s still not moving.  You actually start to squirm a little bit under his unreadable gaze, before he eventually brings both hands up to your face and gently cradles your jaw in his gloved palms, bringing you to a still.

“Unbelievable,” the Mandalorian says softly, tilting his helmet at you and carefully brushing his thumbs along your cheekbones.  He doesn’t sound upset.  He sounds truly mystified by you.  Stumped.  Reverent.

You blink at him.  “What?”

“Nobody w-would… but you’re…”  He seems like he’s trying to find the words to describe what he’s thinking, but he can’t.  “You can’t—you… t—?  Not just.  But be—because of.  On—on… pr-prin…”

“I… I do still want you to fuck me, though,” you eventually whisper when he never finishes his sentence.  He’s not the best with words, but that’s okay.  You’re perfectly willing to entertain other mediums.  “First.  Even if it is part of a deal, I don’t give a shit.”

You bring your hand back to wrap tight around him, beginning to pull up and down in strong, steady strokes once more.  The tips of his fingers tighten just slightly on your jaw.

“Please,” you whisper, turning your head to kiss one of his palms.  “Just show me, it’s okay.”

He stays like that for just a split second more.

And then he’s suddenly whipping one of his hands down to grab your wrist.  The other wraps itself more fully around your jaw in its absence and firmly holds your head in place in front of him.

“I won’t be gentle,” he tells you once more, voice coming out hoarse and shaky.  “I—I c-can’t—”

You nod in affirmation as much as you can with his iron grip wrapped tight over your chin like this.  “Th—”

You can’t even get a single word out before Mando shoots both hands down to grab your hips, abruptly yanking your ass off the bed.  Your legs have just enough time to buckle once they hit the ground, but then he’s spinning you around and practically shoving you right back on top of the metal platform, facedown with half your upper-body and both arms hanging over the edge.

Your pants are being snatched over your ass and down your legs as you still work to adjust yourself to the chaotic shift in position.  Holy fuck, he wasn’t ki—

Something blunt presses up against the apex of your thighs, pushes forward, and oh, holy fu—

—oh—holy fuck—

You’re surprised you have enough breath to shout as loud as you do when he slams full-force into you, rattling the bed as he sheathes himself in your slick warmth to the hilt, fully armored behind you and pressing cold beskar tight up against your ass and thighs.  You claw your fingers over the smooth metal surface under the cot and try to brace yourself on something, but there’s nothing to hold onto.  Fuck, he’s so fucking thick.  Forcing you to yield to his hardness, tightening his grip on your hips and keeping you locked in position.

And then he pulls out and then slams back in—starts pounding into you, using your body as a counterweight to thrust himself into and Maker, you would probably be screaming if you could even breathe right.  The inability to inhale just means you can hear him groan through the modulator, shuffle up closer to you and start to drill into you harder.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” he murmurs, and fuck, you would think he was suffocating you if it weren’t for both of his hands being anchored to your hips.  It blazes through you like wildfire, burning your lungs and setting your body alight with flames.  He leans over you and clamps a hand down over your shoulder, and your eyes roll back when he moves up and adjusts his angle just the slightest bit, pounding down into you instead of just into you, and—

“Maker, h-how did I deserve this?”  He whispers quietly to himself, delirious and tight as stars explode behind your vision.  His helmet rests on your shoulder blade, the beskar as heavy and unyielding as his thrusts are as he pummels into that one blinding, heavenly spot, over and over and over again.  “What did I d—where were you when I was—when I was—?”

You finally gasp a ragged, desperate breath in like you’ve been underwater for the last minute instead of under him, taking his cock the way he needs to give it to you.  And then you’re writhing, grinding your body back against his as much as you can, choking on the burning air and trying to put your needs together into a coherent sentence.

“T-take your helmet off,” you finally manage to lift your head up and beg, “please—please, I-I won’t—I won’t look, I sw-swea—” and then your cunt clamps down hard when he shoots up from you and practically rips the thing off his shoulders without another word, the sound of steel clanging loudly on the floor by your feet.

His hand comes around your throat and yanks you to the side before his teeth are sinking into your neck, not a single break in his hard, pounding rhythm.

He probably gets about ten good thrusts in like that before you’re going rigid under him and cumming—hard.

Everything below your waist locks down tighter around him than a fucking vice, and then you explode wet and hot around his cock with a hoarse shout, squeezing him and spasming through each rough, steady thrust as it launches you higher, and higher—

“Fuck—” he snarls into your neck, and then he suddenly kicks up from the rapid slapslapslapslap that got you over the edge to a surging, brutal bam—bam—bam that wrings a sharp, ragged cries from your throat.  Your face screws up and you try not to scream at the sensation, wondering how it was possible that he could make the bliss even more debilitating.  “Fuck, th—your cunt gets… s-so fucking tight when you cum—”

You just whimper for him helplessly, listening to the vulgar sounds of him fucking into you, the loud squelching as he keeps rocking mercilessly deep.

“You hear that?”  He murmurs next to your ear, and the slick sound of it echoes obscenely through the silent hull.  His voice is soft, contrasting blindingly with the way he’s holding you down and fucking you so strong and steady through the aftershocks.  “Fuck—you get fucking wet after you cum, too, don’t you?”

You try to move, try to adjust yourself just slightly, but he locks down around you and holds fast to his rhythm.  Fuck, it feels like he’s fucking the air out of you faster than you can breathe it in, grip like iron and tightening the more you struggle.

“‘M never leaving this,” he slurs, dropping his head to rest between your shoulder blades.  “Never.  Fuck, I’m—you’re—you’re never getting rid of me, sweet girl, I’m—I’m never—never f-fucking leaving—”

“Fuck, I’m—” you gasp, closing your eyes and trying to focus on the spark of a feeling deep inside you.  “Stars, I think I-I might—”

And then Mando licks a slow, warm line up the curve of your spine and a second orgasm is suddenly burning a fucking hole through you, tearing another broken wail from your throat.  You spasm and arch under him, bearing down on his thick cock and trying not to sob.

“Fuck, there we g-go—” he grits against your skin, picking up his speed and fucking hammering into you, completely deaf to your hoarse squeal at the change in tempo.  “Good.  Ngh, fuck—you—y-you want me to cum now?”

“Please,” you beg.  “Please cum, p-please—”

“Where?”  His voice is tight, breathless and shaky.  “Tell me where—quick—”

“Fuck—inside,” you moan, eyes rolling back at the thought of taking his load deep inside you.

Mando’s hips stutter.  For the first time in what feels like an eternity, they jerk back in before they could fully extend all the way out, and your abused lower muscles start to squeeze him in anticipation.

“I can’t—” he rasps, “—I’ve—I-I’ve never—and y-you’ll—”

“Safe,” you wheeze, because you don’t have enough air in your lungs or composure in your thoughts to tell him you have an implant contraceptive.  All you can manage is a shameless, breathless, “Cum deep,” half-tossed over your shoulder.

Your hair is gathered and locked in a tight fist behind your head and if you thought he was fucking you full force, you soon realize he was only at about an eight.  He flattens you against the bed and yanks your head up, arm coming around to brace across your chest and starting to just fucking wreck you from behind.

The change in angle forces his cock to spear up against something that blinds you, something so raw and impairing that you can’t speak anymore, even if you could find the air to.

“Fuck—m’gonna cum,” the Mandalorian grits, the bed rattling on its tracks as his head drops to your shoulder, “f-fuck, s’too fucking good, sweet girl—m’gonna f-fucking cum, I—”

He plows his hips into you just like that once, twice, three—

You lock down and everything goes blurs and goes out of focus, white hot pleasure ripping you apart from the inside as you do scream this time, clamping down and straightening your spine and convulsing in ecstasy.

He snarls and bites down on your neck, grrriiinndding his cock as deep inside you as it’ll go and shuddering above you.  You can feel him pulsing, throbbing as he growls his way through it, breathing heavy and giving you his load just how you asked.

Mando pulls out of you much quicker than you want him to and stumbles backwards, suddenly dropping to his knees on the floor behind you with a metallic clang.  He doesn’t do anything more than that, though; he just stares at your fluttering hole as you slowly start to leak his cum, one of his hands coming up to brace itself on the back of your thigh as he catches his breath and watches.

Fuck, you’re spent.  Panting and exhausted in the same position he left you.  You try to move, but you can’t.  You just sprawl there on your tummy and slowly wait for the feeling to return to your body.

But then he says something.  It’s too quiet—a soft, one syllable word you can’t quite make out.

“Wh—?”  Your muscles feel like lead.  “I couldn’t hear y—”

Gloved hands trail gently over your ass.  And then you feel a small, sharp little prick on the swell of one of your cheeks, but it’s gone after a split second.

And then… fucking bliss.

You sag into the metal bed, feeling the room begin to spin.  Fuck.  He gave you the shot.  The fucker just gave you the shot.  How dare he?  Before you could even work yourself up to the point of tears again?  While you’re still… still fucking dripping with cum right in front of his face?

Until—

“Din,” he says softly.  “It’s Din.”

Din.

How perfectly appropriate, you think.

Short, simple, and to the point.  No flourishes.  A quick, one-syllable punch of air.  One singular, closed I vowel sitting quietly between two consonants, guarded on all sides.  Hard at first, but then tapering off to a soft sound if you let it.  Din.

“Din,” you whisper, fighting the overwhelming high with every last fiber of your gradually depleting consciousness, wanting so desperately to hear the word out loud with your own voice before you’re pulled under, trying to make sure it’s real.  It comes out sounding that way, too; weak and quiet and straining for these last few precious moments with him.

Both of his hands wrap around the back of your knees and you feel his plush lips press gently against your upper-thigh, just below the curve of your ass.  He opens his mouth and licks hot and warm along your damp skin, pulls both your knees apart just slightly and then starts to drag his tongue to the side a bit, and then—

And then everything goes dark.

[yeojaa]

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears.  You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard.  The best part?  You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main.  He might just love you.

alt summary.  Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing.  jeon jungkook

genre + rating.  fluffy crack. general, for now.

warning / tags.  long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish),  eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch.  tags are hard.  :( 

reading.   n/a.  a three part one-shot.

word count.  ~3400

part i.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Sunday, 10 November, 2019.  2:13 AM.

It’s 2:13 AM when Jeon Jungkook finally finds a match, the familiar in-game sound dragging his attention away from the illuminated screen of his iPhone to the monitor before him.  He studies the SR - 3779 and 3761, respectively - and skims burning eyes across the members on each team.  Four rocks, including himself, and two Masters.

One of them has a strange name - BIGMELON - that he stares at until he's zoning out, trying to make sense of it.  Was his teammate a pervert or just hilarious?

"Good luck and have fun, everyone!"  

Your cheer filters through his headphones crystal clear but he's somehow still surprised, head tilting curiously to the side.  He hadn't expected a girl to be playing Overwatch at quarter past two in the morning.

When there's no response - he notices no one else is in the voice chat, an oddity for such a high ranking game - he takes it upon himself to keep you company.  His username lights up as his finger glides across the ALT key, sleep-worn words breaking the silence.

"Thanks, you too."

Nothing follows until BIGMELON appears once again in the upper left-hand corner of his screen.  You have a nice voice, he thinks.  "Are you sticking with Widow?"

Jungkook takes in the team comp:  Sigma, Hog, Genji, and Lucio.  A little unconventional but not wholly un-doable.  They're on King's Row, too, which is one of his favourite maps.  Balanced enough that people aren't too salty when they get headshot but with enough coverage that he can get clear picks.  

"Should I?"

"If you want."  A pause and your hero slot is filled with Mercy's portrait.  "I can damage boost."

He thinks he can hear the teasing.  It's soft and sweet and a little rough - like you'd just woken up.  

"Who says I need it?"  Comes his immediate response, question chased out of his mouth by a laugh he can't help.  It echoes, filling the quiet of his bedroom.  He hopes you don't take it the wrong way.

"O—kay, Widow main.  We'll see if you get anything from me."

It's an empty threat because you're giggling along with him.  It's distracting in the strangest way.  The sound bounces around in his ears and he can't help but focus on it, realizing belatedly that he's still sitting in spawn as the timer runs down for setting up defence.  

"Are you going to join us?"  You quip, emoting right beside his stationary sniper.  "I didn't queue just to have someone go AFK."  

Mischief colours your words and he laughs again, snorting as he finally presses W.  Two sets of footsteps echo in game and he presses SHIFT once he's hit point - and with just a few seconds left to spare - launching Widowmaker's body onto the balcony overwatching it.  Mercy follows, Guardian Angel carrying her into the air to alight behind the blue-skinned hero.  

As the timer hits 0:01, Jungkook right-clicks, scoping in on the second-floor spawn door.

BOOM.

The kill feed reads DDEOKKOOKI x STRIKER007.

"I guess you didn't need the damage boost."  

He can't help the sound he makes - a marriage between a witch's shriek and a pig's snort.  It leaps out of his mouth, louder than he intends, and he feels equally bad for you and his hyungs.  He's definitely going to get an earful in the morning - or any minute now, when one of them bursts into his room to berate him for being so loud.  "I told you."

"Yeah, yeah."  The way you speak has him grinning from ear to ear, nose scrunching in amusement.  Mercy is flying across the map, healing stream trained on Genji as the cyborg ninja just narrowly misses an errant Hanzo arrow and dashes back to point.  "I'm gonna take care of the rest of our team.  Let me know if you need anything, O' Headshot God."

You're clowning him hard but he knows it's all in good fun.  Still, he likes the nickname and decides to keep it, effectively picking off the attacking team's stealthily half-hidden Junkrat and Ana right after. 

"Show-off!"   

Then he's dinked in the head - health dropping to 30 from the partially-charged shot.  He needs heals like yesterday.

Unfortunately, Lucio is up at choke with the tanks, skating circles around the base of the statue as they hold point.  Jungkook doesn't see you immediately - he’s scanning his screen for your witch skin (of course) - only realizing you've appeared at his side when his health bar begins to climb.  "Try to stay alive, yeah?"

"My bad,"  he drawls, scoping in the same instant the kill feed announces two more enemy deaths. 

There are only a critical Reinhardt and protected Zarya left.  The former falls the moment he drops shield and her bubble doesn't reset in time;  the Russian tank dies in the next instant, his charged shot firing the moment it hits 100%.  

"Thanks for the damage boost."

"Any time."

Then you're gone, off to support the rest of your team again while he grapples onto a different ledge and continues his oppressive gameplay.  He feels a little bad when the opposing team goes double shield tank and swaps their Junkrat for a Pharah.  He feels less so when he's slept out of nowhere. Four seconds feels like an eternity when he’s out in the open - vulnerable as a baby lamb in a den of lions.

"Looks like you're really making them mad."  You'd been relatively quiet when not tending to him - likely because it was only the two of you in voice chat - and he startles when your comment breaks the quiet lofi he has going in the background. 

"I don't know why.  I'm just having fun."  He's lying.  You're laughing.  

"Too much fun, I think."  

"Maybe they should be better."  Jungkook says this like he's commenting on the weather or the colour of the sky - offhand and nonchalant.  It makes your giggles come harder.  He can hear the scratch of your mic as if you've doubled over and it's now pressed into cotton clothing.  He can't help but pat himself on the back.

"Please don't tell me you're going to 'gg ez' them when we're done."

Now he's feigned offense, gasping at the mere thought.  "Of course not.  I'm not that rude!"

"Well, you never know."  You're right.  People could be the worst when it came to online gaming, spewing vitriol and hurling insults the moment their egos were bruised (or inflated). 

"I promise I'm not an asshole."  He's not really sure why he feels the need to make this abundantly clear.  After all, he'd probably never play with you again.  Korea's density of players was just too great - you were just one in hundreds, thousands, millions. 

Still, he smiles when you reassure him you don't think he is.  "I'm just teasing.  You seem nice."

"I am nice."  Spoken in the same instance he lands two consecutive headshots - one on the bouncing, wall-riding enemy Lucio and the other on the momentarily grounded Pharah.  You must see that, because you're mocking him in that dulcet tone of yours, caramel coating words and turning them soft like toffee. 

"Not according to them."  And not that you mind, it seems, because you're damage boosting him as he catches their out-of-position Rein in his sight.  He whoops in triumph, eliciting another bemused sound from you. 

"You know they're going to do everything to counter you when we go on attack."  Which was in sub-one minute, the timer counting down the last thirty seconds of your team's defense. 

"Who says I'm going Widow again?"  

You're scandalized.  "You mean you're not just a filthy Widow main?"

For a moment, Jungkook wonders if this is how his older members feel when he (and Jimin and Taehyung) mercilessly rib them.  He thinks it must be and oh, how the tables have turned.  He decides he doesn't really mind, though.  It's all innocent fun and it's keeping him awake, aided by the cold brew he'd chugged at midnight. 

"Woah - says the Mercy player?"

"Mercy is a respectable support, okay!"

"Sure, e-girl."  

"Take that back!"  How the words explode out of his headphones makes him momentarily worry he might've overstepped but by the way your laughter chases it forward, he knows he hasn't.  You can take it just as well as you can dish it.  

"Okay, okay.  You're a not bad healer."  Because he hasn't died yet and last he checked, neither had your tanks.  Genji had once or twice - to be expected, given his playstyle - and you had, but that was still pretty respectable.

He can practically hear you rolling your eyes.  "Oh, thanks."  

"Any time, BigMelon."  

"That's ‘daebak’ to you, pal."  Had he heard you wrong?

"What'd you say?"  

There's a long pause - he's not sure whether it's for comedic purpose or something else.  You sound muffled on the other end, as if you're repressing sound.  "Because watermelon?  Su-bak?  So big melon is dae-bak?"  Whatever you had stifled earlier disappears, torn away by the pride that shines bright yellow and boisterous in your peals of laughter.

It's such a bad joke that Jungkook feels like he's about to have an aneurysm.  Were you Jin moonlighting as a Master support player? 

"You're kidding me."  He wonders if you hear him above your own glee, giggles making it hard for him to hear himself think.  "What're you - a dad?"

You scoff now, parroting his words back to him.  "What're you - the pun police?"  

Another one?

He briefly considers ALT + F4-ing his way out of this match and away from your corniness.  Considers it but ultimately decides against it, instead remaining stoically silent and choosing McCree when the hero selection screen slides into place.  His silence will surely speak volumes.  

"You know that was funny!"  By the way he can practically hear your pout - it's endearing, much to his chagrin - he thinks you know where he stands.  

"Not the word I'd use."

"You just have bad taste, McCree."  You say it scathingly yet full of mirth, a sniff punctuating the end of your rebuttal. 

"Do not!"  He returns, just as quickly.  

"Prove it.  Laugh at my joke!"  You're shameless, confident, reassured - it makes him chuckle.  

You take it as his surrender though, your own laughter blending seamlessly with his.  It goes on for longer than is strictly speaking necessary, crowding like cotton balls in his ears as you leave sprays of your hero - Ana this time - across the spawn walls.  He wrecks every one of yours with his own, BAMF displayed in 1440p. 

"Hey - stop that!"  It doesn't matter that the round is about to start - you're spamming your melee button into him.  He immediately does it back, toggling between that and his voice line. 

The rest of your team is probably wondering what the hell you're both doing.  

"Stop distracting me!"  He barks into his mic, deep dimples on full display, nose scrunched adorably.  He doesn't really mind - it's clear by his hyena cackles that follow - and he likes when your chorus of shut up's pitch and leap with your giggling. 

As he navigates McCree out behind your tanks, he can't help but wish - maybe a little selfishly - that they'll lose this round and go into a best of three.  When the opposing team's healers both die - one to Ashe's dynamite and the other to Zarya's high-charged beam - he knows that's not going to happen.  Your team's going to cap point and then you're going to be gone - off to the next game and never to be matched with again.

"We did it, McCree."  You sound deeply pleased as the last of the defenders fall, leaving point uncontested.  The Lucio on your team lingers by the choke, ready to boop any last minute hoodlums;  Echo hovers just above the enemy’s spawn, dealing damage the moment any hero comes in view.  One of your tanks is already emoting.

VICTORY flashes across his screen.  

"We sure did, BigMelon."

The cards come next - they're all for your team, though he isn't surprised.  You'd gotten 37 defensive assists whereas he had 27% Infra-Sight uptime.  He's sure you both vote for each other, the remaining four going to your other support's Sound Barrier casts.  

"Thanks for the carry."  He doesn't mean it facetiously.  This is some of the most fun he's had in-game in ages.

"You're welcome,"  you chirp.  He thinks you'll leave right after.

Instead, you both sit in voice chat in silence, watching the timer in the upper right-hand corner. 

"Do you want to duo?"  You ask in the same instance he does, breaking the both of you into a fit of laughter.  It's more distracting than he realizes, the FINDING MATCH countdown replacing the end game statistics while you’re both still cackling.

Luckily, you invite him to a group right as he removes himself from queue.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Tuesday, 24 December, 2019.  11 PM.

It’s six weeks and a good three dozen games later - a feat for him, considering how much of his time is eaten up by literally every other obligation he has - when he asks for your name, not realizing the consequences of his action.  

“Most people call me Jinny.”  He thinks it fits you, bright and pretty and punchy.  “What’s your name?”

Jungkook's unprepared for the question, though he shouldn’t be.  Of course you’d want to know.  Anyone would, if they’d already given their own answer.

He's silent for the longest time, quiet stretching on and on over group voice chat.  He applauds you for your patience, how you don't press him on it when the hesitation has descended from appropriate to downright awkward.

"Uh."  The word drops like a weight, crashing through the tentative friendship you've built over the past weeks.  

"You don't have to tell me,"  you supply as softly as he's ever heard you.  It's the first time you've seemed uncertain - and it bothers him that he's the reason.  "I get that we haven't known each other that long."  

As if that's actually the issue.  He would've told you the night you spent four hours together, taking wins left and right, filling the time in between matches with silly banter that had his jaw aching from laughter.  He would’ve told you on that random Thursday, when you’d listened to him talk about his busy day, effortlessly keeping him occupied - and amused - while your SR nearly descended below 3500.  He would’ve even told you yesterday, when you’d said you were going to bed, only to be roped into another six games by Jungkook’s eagerness.

It has absolutely nothing to do with time - or the lack thereof.

But he can't say that - can't tell you who he really is - so he improvises as best he can.  "My friends call me Jay."

"Jay, huh?"  You turn the sound over on your tongue, like you're tasting it for the first time, trying to decide whether you love it or hate it.  He hopes you don’t hate it.  "Then I guess we're the best J-duo to ever exist."

"Woah, we?"  He's only doing it to rile you up, finding it cute when you huff and puff and threaten to let him die in-game.  You never make good on the threat anyway;  you just like to see him sweat, watching as his health bar drops to measly single digits.  "I don't think I agreed to that."  

It's your turn to mock him, that same edge turning your words into sour candy.  "Fine.  You can find yourself a new healer.  We'll see how your SR likes that, Bronzie boy!"  

Neither of you really take the game that seriously but he gasps like he's been shot.  

"No!  Don't leave me with them!"  The way he howls the plea is enough to return you both to your rightful place - one filled with boisterous laughter and things he never thought would see the light of day.

Because somehow, he's found somewhere he feels safe - a place he feels like himself, with no pretenses or expectations.  It’s where he can rant and rave, bouncing from topic to topic like an energizer bunny with no end in sight.  It’s, oddly enough, with you.  

Connected through voice chat and built by an endless stream of communication - sometimes productive, other times not - the space you’ve carved out together has come to feel like a third home.  It isn’t quite what he has with his family or his members but it’s just as nice.

Different, but nice.

"Fine.  You're forgiven."  You sniff in that peculiar way of yours and he snickers loudly.  "How was your day?"

And this is why it is - because it's ordinary.  It’s where Jungkook can rest his head and drift for a while without worry of what’s over the horizon, ready to swallow him whole the moment he takes his eyes off the calm blue sea.  He's not raised on a pedestal with you, all the weight of his choices resting on his shoulders.  He's just a normal guy playing games.  

It might not make up for all the years of normalcy he's missed out on - the movies after school, the street markets on weekends, the holiday parties with classmates - but it's enough.  

He eats it up like he's been starved of it.

"Busy.  Really busy.  I had dance practice all afternoon and forgot to eat so I'm dying now."  There'd been a time - about three weeks in - when he'd chosen his words more carefully.  He'd been worried he might let something slip but he's found what feels like the sweet spot now, where he can tell you about his day without thinking he’ll suddenly shatter the image you have of him.

It's not always easy - he has to remember to never mention names or intimate details - but it's better than nothing.  He can finally tell someone about his day like he wants - all of the good and the bad, too.

"You should make something to eat!"

He's used to your reprimands but he still laughs, crossing his long legs beneath him as he readjusts in his computer chair.  "But we're in queue."

"Jay!"  It comes out devoid of static, clear as the waning sunshine that filters through his blinds and reflects particles of dust that drift lazily through his bedroom.

"I'll make something after we win."  He knows what you're thinking - that he's gone and jinxed your whole night.  You’re weirdly superstitious, something he's learned only recently.

As if right on cue:  "Shut up!"  

Your words sweep his expression up with glee and giddiness, like a kid on Christmas morning;  lines dig themselves into the bridge of his nose and the delicate skin beneath his eyes.  Jungkook tells himself it’s the usual pre-game jitters but he knows it’s more than that.  

It’s you and that infectious giggle that careens through his headphones, making him see everything in a pretty haze of warmth.

He’s not sure when you’d started having this particular effect on him - maybe since the beginning? - but he feels it now, clearer than ever.  Every tinkling laugh makes his heart speed up, thump around his chest like a baseball missing its mark.  The sight of you logging in elicits the biggest, possibly dorkiest smile, all slightly too-big front teeth and deep dimples.  You have him rushing through his post-practice showers and devouring dinner in half the time he usually would just to get online a minute more quickly.  

There's just something about you. 

And sure - a part of him wonders whether it's all in his head (as if it could be anywhere else).  Wonders if he's seeing you through rose-tinted glasses, doing to you what so many do to him.  Was he in over his head, praying to a deity that didn't even know he existed?  

Sometimes it felt that way - a little out of reach, like childhood crushes and summer love and wishing upon a star.  Certainly far too much for a blossoming friendship of just a month and a half.  

But then you laugh and it's Pop Rocks fizzling in his stomach and he knows that no - it's there and it's real.

Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met. 

notes.  i love overwatch and i love jeon jeongguk.  what more can i say?  :)

[btsficsforthehumble]

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

A/N: Small s/o to Fae from sope-and-shine for giving me great inspiration for this chapter!

Part Three

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 1.8k

You continue down the street, noticing yourself hold a faint smile from your time with Jimin. You have a feeling Intro to Comp will be more fun than you anticipated with him to keep you company. You really appreciated his easy-going nature that allowed playful digs to seem second nature between you two, even if you had just met.

You glance up at the sun, now starting to feel more intense as it approaches midday. Noticing, you slip your sunglasses out of your backpack and look at your phone to double check directions --- you weren’t too confident getting around campus quite yet. As you are looking at your GPS app, you see a text pop up from an unknown number.

*Hi y/nnnnn it’s your favorite seat partner from intro to comp!! Hehe*

You roll your eyes at Jimin’s text, and save his number.

*You are my only seat partner from intro to comp, Jimin. It’s been one day.*

*:( Don’t be a meanie, y/n. You know I’d be your favorite no matter what :DD*

*Who's to say? Maybe next time I’ll sit closer to Yoongi*

*GASP. You wouldn’t dare*

*Are you willing to put money on that?*

As you text Jimin, you follow the directions on your phone and end up at a cute little grocery store, with a built in cafe off to the side. When you notice it, you get some spring in your step. After seeing the coffee that the other students had in class you were yearning for a cup of your own, especially after your hectic morning.

The barista sent you a smile as you read the menu. Deciding on a nice warm cappuccino, you tell her your order and walk over to the side to receive your drink when she finishes.

She rings you out, and as you wait for your drink you begin running though your mental grocery list. Thankfully your apartment had a decent kitchen, which you knew you’d get good use of as you enjoyed cooking when you had a chance. Not to mention, your parents owned a small bakery in your hometown which meant you were well versed in the art of baking, and often found yourself baking during stressful moments in your life as a distraction. Maybe while you were here you’d pick up some basic supplies for baking… sugar, flour, baking soda, vanilla extract….

Your train of thought was quickly cut off by the barista, sliding your drink across the counter with a smile. You give her one back as you thank her, and stroll over to where you think the baking aisle would be. You take your time, checking out the products in each section to make sure you got everything you needed, beyond just your baking supplies.

As you near the paper goods aisle, you barely see a figure swing around the corner and run smack-dab into a paper towel display, which happened to be less than a meter from you. Unfortunately, the collision caused several of the rolls to go flying --- and one flying hard enough to knock the fresh coffee right out of your hand.

The chaos of the moment causes you to stand a little open mouthed while you stare at the now half-empty cardboard coffee cup rolling on it’s side away from you.

Toward the top of your field of vision you see a pair of men’s sneakers, which causes you to scan up towards his face. He is looking at you with the widest doe-eyed shocked expression you have possibly ever seen. His arms are half reached out, as if he wants to help, but can’t as he already caused the damage. One of the arms reaching out at you has a patchwork of black ink, trailing down over his toned muscles to his knuckles. His oversized grey t-shirt and loose jeans seem to swallow him a bit, which only adds to the almost child-like innocence of his wide eyes. Wavy brown hair frames his face, accentuating his masculine jawline.

Once your eyes connect for a few seconds, surely both wide in shock, he makes a squeaking noise and bends down to collect the scattered rolls.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going and I took the turn too fast, I’ll go buy you another coffee as soon as I pick these up---” His voice, while speaking rapidly, remained soft and delicate, obviously embarrassed at his mistake. When you bend down to join him in collecting the runaway towels, he cuts himself off to again look at you with a wide-eyed expression.

You smile at him, the surprise from the situation fading as you stretch your upper body as far as you can to grab one that rolled particularly far. “It’s okay, we all can be clumsy sometimes. I promise it’s not that big of a deal, it was just a coffee.” You give him a warm smile in reassurance, wanting to ease his obvious anxiety.

You both stand up, having collected the spilled display and him grabbing your abandoned coffee cup. “Um, what were you drinking? I’ll get you a new one, it’s the least I could do.” His blush deepens with his question, and he nervously glances off to the side as he grabs his elbow of the hand holding the empty cup to make himself smaller.

“It was a cappuccino… but honestly, you really don’t need to, it’s okay.” Sending him another warm smile, you hope to convey your ease at the situation.

“No, I want to. I’ll be right back, okay?” He holds your gaze for a second, seeming to double check that you weren’t going to run away on him.

“Okay.” Once you let out your reply, he sends you a quick smile as he turns around and lightly jogs away from you, back the direction you came from.

You can't help but notice the subtle ripple of his muscles across his shoulder blades as he does so. For being so meek, he sure had quite the muscular build under those baggy clothes. He definitely was “yummy” to use the word Jimin so aptly applied to Yoongi earlier. At the memory, you couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle under your breath.

You scan the area quickly, making sure your run in with the boy didn’t leave a mess anywhere in the store. After seeing it clear, you glance back over your shoulder to watch him talking to the same barista. You could tell, even from this distance, that he seemed slightly embarrassed and had a pink tinge to his cheeks. The duality of this guy honestly is blowing your mind… his tattoos and muscular physique would give the impression that he would be super intimidating and confident, but by the way he blushed at attention so easily and was so timid when he apologized to you showed that he was was really a big sweetheart.

As he was now waiting for the barista to remake your drink, standing in the same spot you occupied a few minutes ago, you felt awkward hovering in the spot of the incident. After a quick glance back at him, you thought he would be able to find you pretty easily if you ventured down the aisle further. An aisle down from the paper goods, you found yourself in the exact aisle you were looking for.

Your mind quickly abandoned any prior thought as you took stock of the baking supplies the store had to offer. It looks like you’d be spending more on groceries today than you had anticipated.

“Um, here’s your coffee…” The boy from earlier had returned before you realized any time had passed. Caught, you looked at him, now looking at you, with a hesitant look on his face, as he saw the almost comical amount of stuff you had balanced in your arms. Now embarrassed a tad, you realize you have no hand to take the coffee from him, and it seems like it had just occurred to him too. He looked back and forth between the coffee in his hand and your ridiculously full arms and quickly offered, “I’ll be right back. I’ll get you a basket.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much. I’m sorry, I guess I got carried away!” You sheepishly respond to his kind offer. It was above what a normal person would do. He nodded his head quickly and did his half-jog thing again to go back to the front of the store. You weren’t getting tired of the view, to be honest.

Before you even knew it, he was back and gently removing items from the tetris you created in your arms of baking supplies. “Thank you so much, you really don't have to do any of this…” you feel slightly guilty for the boy’s kindness.

“No, it’s really okay, I shouldn’t have thrown paper towels at you.” As he speaks, he catches your eye and gives you a smile you could only compare to a cute bunny or other small adorable creature. You couldn’t help but fall just a little in love with him right there in the aisle. Now comfortable enough to joke with you, you left out a surprised laugh in response. You tip your head back slightly and feel your cheeks squish up without warning.

“I suppose you got me there. Maybe try to lower the aggression levels on your next grocery store run,” you egg him on slightly, a teasing smile remaining on his face.

“What would be the fun in that?” His eyes hold contact just a millisecond longer than normal, and you swear you see a glint of mischief in them. Ah, so bunny-boy knows at least a little how much of a hunk he is.

“Do you flirt with pretty girls at the store by knocking the coffee out of their hands for fun then?” Your eyebrow is raised slightly, and your tone stays as a teasing lilt.

Apparently at his banter limit, he blushes and gapes for a second. “Just teasing you. Thank you again for the coffee,” you reassure. Full basket and fresh coffee in hand, you flash him one last grin before you make your way around him to head towards the register.

As you leave the store, re-entering the street, you can’t help but hope you run into that guy again. He seemed like a genuinely sweet person that you’d love to be friends with. Starting towards the direction of your apartment, you ponder the chances.

You also ponder what baked treat you were going to throw the rest of your afternoon into. After some mental deliberation, you settled on muffins. Easy to take with you for that pesky morning calculus class. Ugh, at the thought of calculus you groaned inside a little. Not only did you have to grapple with the boring math, but you now have to grapple with the decidedly not so boring boys in your class.