#kookie! you dork!

[jmdbjk]

Bangtan weekly report.

On the Street on first listen/MV watch did not make me warm and fuzzy. It was melancholy, it made me sad. 

Watching it again and again, some of the imagery is hard to interpret, like the small sidewalk memorial off to the side with the yellow and white flowers. 

But some of the other imagery was definitely obvious. The child representing Army (again). The location: Bowery Station. 

The MV was not as dancey as I thought it would be. But since the moment I learned that J. Cole would be part of this I knew this was one of those full circle moments for Hobi. 

He preceded the premiere of the MV with a Weverse live on the banks of the Han River in Seoul. Walking around in public doing a live... we’ve come a long way people... I bet there was at least one security guy hovering out of the shot... hiding in the tall grass... somewhere nearby. 

Other developments this past week:

When I said “Instagram is going to go silent for a while unless JK wipes his feed again” I didn’t mean wipe it and then delete it, you big dork!!!! Be furrrrrrreallllll.

The estimated “value” of JK’s instagram followers was $50 million USD. All those potential partnership companies gagged and choked.

Jungkook informed fans of his withdrawal from Instagram which had as many followers as South Korea's total population: 52.4 million. It was estimated the value of one posting for Jungkook would have exceeded 1 billion won or almost $766,000 USD. His account value would have been in the tens of billions of won.

Okay, Kookie... just keep doing you. I love you anyway.

In other news (unfortunately):

So, if the Korail employee knows private information such as addresses and such (scary and mind-boggling)... Namjoon would have no choice but to reveal information before anyone else has a chance to do it and incur any more damage to his reputation or compromise the information for anyone he knows if that’s the type of info they had access to. In other words, don’t be surprised when Namjoon reveals personal info before anyone else has a chance to do it.

I hope it is plain to see why Jimin doesn’t even let us know what color his walls are or to understand why Jungkook may have left Instagram. There is too much chance of anyone figuring out information just from being able to identify objects and things in photos. Who knows what other private info of theirs is already breached and in the hands of nefarious people.

It is so concerning to me that I even question when Jungkook gives us details about the amenities at Bam’s new training place. DON’T TELL US!

The Tiffany & Co. ambassadorship... and the dollars keep rolling in for our precious little 21st Century Pop Icon who is just our goofy friend in sweatpants who loves soju. 

We all noticed Jimin seemed to be “naked” when he attended the Dior menswear show back in January. When I say naked, I mean he wasn’t wearing a single piece of jewelry. We know this man loves him some bangly bangles and dangly earrings and spangly necklaces. He never goes anywhere without his signature hoop earrings on so we all felt something was missing.

And now we know he had this Tiffany deal up his sleeve. Seems like he was cleansing himself of jewelry. Starting fresh by being jewelry free in front of millions of eyes just so he could follow up with a jewelry refresh. Jimin will have Tiffany’s classic and polished pieces flying out of jewelry stores. Get ready for the Jimin effect. I hope they manufactured enough to satisfy demand. I can’t wait for the knock-offs so I can afford to wear a few look-alikes. 

Busan Expo update video. Filmed last October or November?

Inside Mang made me tear up. Their little virtual Mang interacting with Hobi was the sweetest thing. We will get a “real” Mang reveal soon!! Everything Hobi does is so well thought out. His attention to detail is astounding. I suppose Mang might serve a similar role that Wootteo did for Jin... (weeps). 

And Jimin on Insta and Weverse trying to catch up on the member’s content HE IS JUST LIKE ME! I CAN’T KEEP UP WITH ALL THE CONTENT EITHER, JIMIN!!! 

Jimin is about to slap us in the face with FACE... hold on to your asses we’re about to go for a ride on the Jimin freight train soon. 

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #48 - Stress Relief]

"When Jungkook is there for you in stressful times."

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: she is stressed :') bless her, he is the cutest hubby ever, i want what she has tbfh, he is also such a funny dork PLEASE

Wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: i wanna be her hfdshf i am :( big sad :( i miss Kookie so much :(

Jungkook lifts his head, following you with his eyes. This is the second time you let out a loud sigh. He stays silent for now, feeling out the situation. 

You walk past him, heading straight to the kitchen without paying him any mind. You stay there a little under a minute then come back. 

Another sigh. 

Jungkook furrows his brows and opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, you are already gone again. Out of the living room and down the hallway. 

He pauses his show and leaves the couch, looking for you.

One loud sigh is nothing, two might be a coincidence, but three? Three are a pattern. Mix it with you basically being blind to his presence and something is taking up your mind. Jungkook can’t relax when he knows that you are burdened by something. 

The door to the cellar is open, the lights are on. Jungkook jogs down the stairs, following the trail of lights you left on. He ends up in the laundry room, but even that is empty. The washing machine is half emptied, the dryer half-filled. Abandoning a load of laundry is not like you at all. Jungkook grows worried. Something must really upset you.

A fourth loud sigh and the dragging of your slippers lets him know that you are coming back. 

“Ah!” you startle, stumbling back with such vigour that you almost trip.

“Careful”, he gasps, catching you with two strong hands on your hips, “sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

“Why are you here? You can’t just appear without warning”, you snap at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think that I’d scare you”, he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You accept it half-heartedly because then you are already out of his gentle hold to hurry to the washer.

“It’s fine”, you dismiss him, working hastily to unload and load the laundry. You sigh again as you do it.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“You don’t sound good.”

“No, I’m good”, you assure him and finally start the dryer. You pick up a stack of magazines and hurry past him to the stairs. 

Jungkook follows you. You are basically running. This isn’t like you at all. Every movement you make is quick and hastily, you seem to do two tasks at once all the time and you barely want to catch your breath. 

Upstairs, you abandon the magazines to pick up some of Bam’s toys, only to drop them halfway to their basket because you remember the magazines and hurry back to them. 

Jungkook catches you in the middle of it, resting his hands on your shoulders. He rubs circles on your clothed skin, looking at you in a mixture of worry and seriousness.

“Slow down for a moment”, he tells you.

You gawk at him.

“Breathe”, he says, caressing your cheeks softly, “just take a deep breath with me.”

You breathe with him. Breathe again. And a third time. By the fourth deep breath, you let your shoulders sag. Jungkook rubs them instantly, looking at you with adoring yet worried eyes.

“What’s wrong, my love?” he asks.

“I’m so stressed”, you finally confess, “I have so much to do and it’s not getting any less.”

Jungkook listens to you intently, never breaking eye contact so you really feel heard. He also hums and nods his head to really assure you that you are listened to. 

“If I think about all the stuff I have to do at the restaurant tomorrow I might cry, then I have all the things still on the fridge list I need to do and there’s already so much more I need to add to the list. I forgot to do laundry and I need to clean Bam’s toys and plan tomorrow’s dinner and I haven’t even had a snack yet and I need to pee and-” you stop yourself having to fight for air shakily.

“Hey my baby, it’s okay”, Jungkook tells you and hugs you against his chest, rubbing the back of your head gently, “I’m here now.”

“I wanna cry. I have so much to do, but I’m so exhausted”, you mumble into him, feeling too tired to hug him back even if you really wanted to. He smells so good. Like home and comfort.

“God baby, I understand. I’m so sorry you feel this way. I can help, you don’t have to do everything alone.”

“But…they’re my tasks. You have your own shit to get through.”

“Shut up, as if I’m not gonna wanna help when I see you struggling just ‘cause they’re your tasks. I don’t care, when my wifey needs a second pair of hands, I’ll be there.”

You snicker into his chest, finally finding the strength to wrap your arms around his waist.

“Wifey”, you repeat.

"Yeah, wifey. That’s you”, he squeezes you softly, “my wifey.”

You giggle. Jungkook smiles at the sound of it, rubbing your back aggressively but with care. 

“I can’t stand seeing you like this”, he says through gritted teeth, but with a playful tone. He is acting all aggressive right now to make you laugh and it really works. He is so gentle even when he is being rough that his cute antics really cheer you up. 

You put some distance between you and him so you could look at him.

“Thank you”, you say, cupping his cheeks, “you have no idea how much I need the help today.”

“Don’t even mention it, sweetie”, Jungkook assures you, kissing your forehead, “now, you’re gonna go pee and I’m gonna make you a snack. Deal?”

“Yeah, deal. Thank you, seriously.”

“Less talking, more peeing. Go, go”, he sends you away with a soft pat to your butt, making you laugh with it.

Jungkook soaks up the sound with a good feeling in his chest. Hearing your laugh instead of your tired sighs is the best change ever. Once you are out of sight, he turns and get to work. He’s got toys to store away and newspapers to sort through.

Bam’s toys are stored in the basket when you come back from the toilet, the magazines are gone as well. Seeing two of your endless tasks already done, really lifts a ton of weight from you. With your steps feeling easier, you make your way to the kitchen, hoping to find your husband.

Just as you had hoped, your cutie of a husband is in the kitchen, doing the finishing touches to your snack. He hasn’t heard you come in yet, back turned to the door.

You back hug him. Jungkook turns in your arms instantly, hugging you against him without using his hands. They are dirty from cooking. Instead, he uses his wrists to rub your back.

“Hey there, sweetie.”

“Hey pookie”, you mumble into him and let out a deep breath. It was filled with relief.

“Did you have a good pee?” he asks, making you chuckle.

“Yeah, it felt so freeing.”

“That’s good to hear. You shouldn’t hold it in, it’s bad for you.”

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t wanna make time today.”

“I get you, I’m sorry my sweetie.”

“Mhm, thankies. What are you making?”

“Apple with peanut butter and crackers with spicy tuna. You need the healthy fats and energy.”

“I really do. The snacks sound so good.”

“They’re almost done. Sit down, I’ll bring them to you.”

You wait on the couch, staring at the scene Jungkook paused his show at. You don’t actually take anything in, however. You are completely and utterly zoned out. Now that Jungkook made you slow down for your own sake, your body is finally starting to give up on you. You feel so tired. Working a ten hour shift and then spending four hours at home doing too many chores is finally paying its tribute. You are so exhausted that even focusing your eyes feels like too much work. 

“There you go, sweetie. The snacks”, Jungkook soon joins you, placing the snacks on the coffee table. He pulls it closer to you so you wouldn’t have to get up, then places himself behind you. 

He massages your shoulders and neck, including your head as well. 

“Wow, this is so good”, you gush, closing your eyes. You rest your head against his stomach, relaxing your muscles. 

“Anything where it hurts the most?” 

“My right shoulder. It gives me a headache, it’s so bad that I hear ringing in my ear.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. Does that help?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Of course, anything you need. You know, I’ve been thinking and Imma make pizza tomorrow.”

“But-”, you try to look back at him, but he stops you with a gentle nudge.

“No buts, you are struggling with dinner planning and I wanna help. You’ll just cook dinner this weekend. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay. So pizza it is?”

“Yeah and the snacks are so good too”, you sniffle, “it’s so good.”

“I’m happy to hear that, my sweetie. Eat as much as you want to.”

You go to bed feeling a lot less on edge, but still with too much stress in your body to make you uneasy. You can’t fall asleep because there are still a million things running through your head. You keep repeating what you need to do, what you should have done with the occasional question in between about whether you had done something. 

Jungkook is currently coming out of the bathroom, giving you a sweet smile. 

“You’re looking cozy.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?” he gasps, increasing his steps to get to you quicker.

“I still feel stressed, there is so much pressure in my chest. I want something heavy to push it out of me, seriously.”

“Mhm, that’s not good then”, Jungkook says and drags you to the middle of the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Attention!” he says sternly.

“What are you doing?” you repeat yourself in a chuckle.

“Weighted blanket mode activated!” he says and stretches his arms out so he could blob onto your chest.

“Koo”, you squeal, shielding yourself but the impact never comes.

He catches himself before he can really crash down, lowering himself the last few inches gently. He lies horizontal to your chin and with his tummy on your chest, letting some of his weight rest on you.

“Oh god, you dork”, you laugh, throwing your arms over his waist.

“Is this helping?” he mumbles into the sheets.

“More.”

“Understood. Heavy blanket mode activation in three, two, one”, he speaks in a funny almost trill sergeant like voice and relaxes completely.

He forces a deep breath out of you this way, a sound follows as well. It carried so much relief in it.

You close your eyes. The pressure finally stops. He is so heavy on your chest and it finally feels as if you can handle all the stress thrown at you. He is truly the best weighted blanket ever.

“Better?” he asks, glancing at you through his bangs.

“Yeah”, you sigh and sniffle, “Koo, I’m gonna cry. You treat me so well.”

“Course I do. You’re my wifey and my sweetie. You can cry if you want to. It helps with stress sometimes.”

“I think I, I actually might”, you say and then start sobbing. Jungkook lets it happen, rubbing your arm so you wouldn’t feel alone. It upsets him to see you cry, but he knows that you need it right now. This isn’t a cry of sadness, this is a cry of emotional relief. Sometimes too much builds up and just needs to leave the body. His weight was finally the thing which made it happen, which allowed you to find the kind of relief your stressed little heart needed. He is just glad that he can be there for you as it happens and that you can lean on him. It also helps him feel less upset to feel you touch him innocently as you cry. It’s honestly a little cute to witness your hand give his buttocks repeated stress squeezes as you sob and sniffle. 

When those sniffles become more and more and the sobs less and less, he finally changes position to hug you, kissing the tears away.

“You’re so strong, my sweetie”, he speaks softly, “mhhhm I’m so proud of you, baby.” 

“Oh god, I feel so light again”, you say, snuggling into him, “thank you so much.”

“I’m just happy that I could help. God baby, tomorrow’s gonna be better I promise. You’ll get pizza for dinner and I can do the ironing ‘cause I only work half day. Tomorrow’s gonna be better, I promise.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

The best thing about your marriage is that you will always have each other’s back. He will give a hundred and ten when you can only give a weak ten. And in return, there are times where you will give a hundred and ten while he barely manages to get to a ten. Days like these exist, but the nice thing about them is that you won’t ever have to go through them alone. You have each other to rely on. You always will.

[lokavisi]

Y'all, Thor is so great. If you need just a solid buddy, he's your guy. We just shot the shit for a while tonight, and it was just lovely. He really gives a shit about us, about humanity. (I mean, protecting us is kinda his Thing™️, after all.) Having spent a little more time with him, I see why he and Loki share so many stories with one another. Neither of them is dumb or weak, but their respective strength and cunning pair really nicely when you wanna get up to some shit. Even if your partner in crime has a slightly different agenda than your own. Add Odin into the mix and you've truly got a sitcom on your hands. Earlier this week I was talking with Thor and Loki together, and Odin just showed up like, "Who the fuck was gonna tell me y'all were hanging out?" What a kooky fucking bunch. I love these dorks. 10/10, would hang out again. ❤️

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Wandee Goodday Episode 5

Such a delightful episode

Our leading men continues their charade as FWB/fake boyfriends. However, it is clear to everyone but these loveable dorks that they are already in a commitment relationship with all its perk and familiarity without the label. They play house together and introduce their loves one to their respective significant. And to top it off, we have Yak playing the supportive boyfriend to Dr Dee's quest in winning everyone's heart and their mom for the scholarship (truly adorable)

I suspect both parties are not willing to move out of their fake bf label because its safer for their heart to not be in a commitment relationship (especially because Dee had his heart broken terribly after being in a one-sided crush for 7 years while Yak finds it easier to set his sight on an unattainable goal)

Dr Ter continues to be repressed and while I'm not 100% sure myself, it does seems he is subtly using Dr Khwan for his own benefit. The poor dr genuinely seems to be a decent person but has a gigantic crush on Dr Ter and he utilises this fully.

Cher and Oyei remains adorable. Cher jealously is wonderful to see cause previous episodes favours heavily on Oyei being the more invested of the couple. But this episode shows Cher is just as possessive and in love with Oyei (also, how could anyone resists a pouting Fluke?)

Dr Kao is a gem and I adore him. Drake plays him marvelously. He is somehow kooky but genuine and truly the best friend (and sex therapist) our leading couple could ever hope for. The Sleepless Sleepwear ??? - such a hoot.

But my heart and soul in this episode goes to Dee's grandmother - such a wonderful, supportive mother figure to Dee and you could tell they have a strong bond. And in the words of our 6-foot babygirl boxer "Your grandma is seriously cool."

Can't wait for episode 6!

[normal-internet-user]

As promised, pumpkin pie! (/p) Here's my two cents for our favorite kiddo reader. The heir of Apocalypse!Peepaw Leo. The edgelord (and rightfully so!) turned dork nugget and their kooky adventures because I say so >:3

– ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ Adopted Reader Fluff!!! My serve!! (probs a smidgen of angst bc this one specific scenario has been rotating in my head & i definitely meant to include it in the headcanons last night but, as previously mentioned, my eyes felt like they were gonna fall out 🥴) ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

p.s , I am also listening to the Goofy Movie soundtrack, specifically Stand Out + I 2 I which are my faves!!! Tevin Campbell did not have to go that hard. Highly recommend.

💌🧚‍♀️💗🌨🥡🍥

Even More Reader Post-Movie Headcanons!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Okay so

I really wanna start out with the scenario that I am positively aching to show you bc I really wanna know what you think, ANDDD I think it weaves in so well with the repairing (or rather, building) of Reader and Leo’s relationship in this timeline!

But, we’ll get there. 😉

After the events of the movie, everything is still raw. Not only are we recovering from a literal war, but all the issues that come with coping with a timeline that we aren’t used to – a timeline we’ve only heard nostalgic regalings of from Papa, lullabies and tall tales and stories meant to keep up some sort of hope and light in the midst of the darkness they lived in day by day, as well as in the mystic projections of Uncle Michelangelo 

. . . but now?

Seeing it in all its prime and modern-day glory?

It’s so, so beautiful.

Reader can’t and would never deny that. 

It’s vibrant. It’s colorful. It’s free. It’s such a far cry from the blood-red skies and dilapidated wastelands they grew up with. The ruins were their "sunny skies and rolling fields" so to speak.

Now that they are here. In the flesh? 

It’s. A lot to handle. 

Reader is wrecked, for sure. 

Casey is too! He’s just better at handling– hiding? Coping.

He’s more open and excited and gentle and polite and cheerful and.

We learn a lot from him as time goes on.

#caseythenationaltreasure

I like to imagine that Casey is a really big help in Reader’s journey to peace; not only within and with themself, but with the people around them too.

Eventually, 

Sure, it’s still a bit awkward with everyone; you guys are kids from the future stuck in a different timeline - with the people who raised you and they're the same age as y'all! What more could you DO to them? (/lh)

Ah. But they’ve got their family. and it’s no joke that they’re a big help!!

Mikey is in his Prime as Doctor Feelings and scheduled regular sessions with Reader bc his EQ is very sharp, as we all know, and he notices just how bad Reader wants to come to terms with everything, and he wants to help. He does help. A lot.

Donnie is ever the 'tism with the emotional constipation (/aff) but he helps and provides in his own little special Donnie ways!

Even if he may not outright say it all the time, he cares and loves his family so so much and he'd do anything for them.

He sets Reader up with some fun and unique techno-cool gifts that help them with things they don't speak up about;

– – like upgrading their mask to have a panoramic-projection so they can put a whole visual to the audio recordings and playbacks stashed in the device memory (only if they want tho! he won't touch it otherwise :'3)

He pretends like he's not hanging on to Reader's every little word when they do engage in casual conversation [which becomes more and more frequent as time goes by!] under the guise of typing on his phone or smth,

and takes those tidbits to create something so heartwarmingly thoughtful and faceted that we may as well just take a big ole stamp that says "You're Not Fooling Anyone With That Bad Boy Persona" and bash it on that forehead of his. JSJSJ (lovingly ofc :*)

Speaking of panorama-projectors, I can see him making it to interchangeable sceneries!

I'm talking about galaxies and solar systems (feeds into Reader's crow tendencies *sniff sniff* soooo many shiny thingssss)

Deep-sea oceans like Ariel's cove-esque or Pandora's sea settings from Avatar

Or even peaceful golden hills and orchards, just them and the big blue sky, the sound of the breeze dancing and larks singing in their ears.

... whatever they want, Don makes it happen.

He definitely takes Mikey's artsy avenues and teams up with him so they can surprise the Future Kids together!

– – 🩵🩶 Casey and Reader fall asleep curled up together in a pillow fort with the projector playing, and it's the best sleep they've gotten since the sleepovers with their Papa.

made myself cry thinkin' that up *sobs*

And isn't Uncle / Big Bro Raphie such a sweetheart during it all? He's the rock of the family, but he's learning to let the family in a lot more. He's learning to not be so "overbearing", especially with his Protective Instincts flying off the handle since the battle. Sure he can be heavy-handed, but he just wants to keep his family safe. And he always has! He always will. He heals to a comfortable place with time, and while he'll always be everyone's rock, you all are there for him too.

Family is stronger together, and-

You all reassure him of that.

In quiet moments, rare moments when it's just him and Reader – they tell him just that. Their hand is comically small on his forearm, but their eyes are earnest; they stare up at him with a sparkle of admiration. They'd only heard stories regaled fondly by their surviving family members, often accompanied them when they visited his shell on the wall lit by candles.

– meeting their uncle, so young but endlessly strong, is a fickle kind of honor. But still an honor.

(and Raphie may or may not have cried whenever Reader gets him right in the feels hurk-)

Reader and Casey get spoiled rotten (i.e: given the basic necessities to which they did not have access to in their timeline sjjsshahahd) by their family nonetheless!!

UGhhghghh imagine it with me, Normie!

Bubble baths! Warm, cozy clothes! Books that weren't rotting, charred, or furled at the edges! Taking them to comic book stores! Convenience stores! The park! The WATERPARK! The mall!! Introducing them to music and headphones/earbuds to match! Conventions and cons! Amusement parks! Ice cream parlors! Casual strolls throughout New York and doing all these things!

Oh and don't get me started on the adventures they get into in The Hidden City!! :DDD

....

seriously, don't–

foreshadowing -thickens-

*ahem*

In all honesty, the whole clan becomes clingy with each other post-Invasion. That goes w/o saying.

Even Case and Reader, despite the initial tension, have little to no qualms with being pulled into Turtle Piles, nor all the casual affection that comes with healing and growing together!!

It's odd but sweet :')

—Casey and Reader eventually grow out of always seeing the guys as uncles/aunties/parental figures (save for Splints + Draxy + etc.), it becomes more sibling-like in a way!

But they'll always be just as close.

They were just that in their timeline.

But that timeline is lost.

And scary as it may be, they're building themselves a new life. A better life. It's what Papa would have wanted.

So. Why not do just that? :')

>> fam that gets traumatized together STAYS together (/gen)😤

Tragedy brings them closer in ways they didn't think it would.

the awkwardness between reader & leo melts into something more mellow, and we owe a big part of that to Casey!

He's their bridge. Seeing as he's closer to Leo at the given time, he hangs out with his sibbie and Leo at the same time so that they can hang together too. >:3c

Such a genius boy ueueu.

— and before they know it, Reader and Lee-Lee are actually bonding really well. It takes time, and there are withdrawals and setbacks along the way, but it is those obstacles that pave the way for something strong. Something true, honorable, pure, and real.

The reader knows — you know, glory do you know ... that this may not be your Papa.

But maybe...

Maybe that's okay.

You had him. You had Casey. You had your family, the ones once lost to fates beyond your control, and now here you were.

You had all won.

And if that in of itself wasn't something to celebrate with every breath you took,

—you would have given up on that war all that time ago.

Reader and Leo come to a mutual ground with one another.

Let's come to a place where they're more than civil with each other; Leo adores casual affection, and Reader does too— they just weren't willing to give way for such in the beginning.

But it's not unusual to see Leo and them curled up next to each other. Most of the time, Casey's with them too! But in the rare times he isn't, Reader and Leo are comfortable and just doing their own thing.

Like they'll be reading a book, or playing on a handheld device (game, Switch, phone, etc. they're amazed by present-day technology) and Lee's got a comic book,

or he's resting his head close to theirs while he guides them through what they may be doing on their fun little screen.

Leo finds a comfort in you, and you find a comfort in him— once you both let each other in.

All the time it took was worth it :')

I can see them being the most annoyingly caustic yet affectionate besties SNSNJJSJSJ biiig "only I get to make fun of them >:(" energy

or a complete opposite:

once we get past all the vitriol, they're so soft for each other hhhh-

Like Reader becomes fairly protective over him; handles him gently with small smiles and murmured words, helps him out and gives the best muscle massages or is quick to redress and assist when he's smarting from his wounds, knows him well enough to comfort him through panic attacks, indulges in his stupid jokes and puns bc he raised them, hello.

They bounce off each other for hours—

the rest of the guys have resorted to begging, multiple times jsjsj.

and Leo, by this time he knows how much Reader meant- means to him, but he doesn't try to take their Papa's place; he's not scared of them, he does learn to love them /p, and tries to translate that in the most respectful yet straightforward way possible,

and that helped their growing relationship a lot!

He rough-houses (gently) and spars with them, teases them just enough to see their flustered expression, annoys them affectionately — but is the first to come to their defense when someone else gets too cozy.

A lot like a best friend or a sibling.

... He also cuddles and slings his arm around their shoulders and gives the best bear hugs (when they want/need). He reads to them- either one of his comics or one of their acquired books- when they can't sleep or just needs something to hear other than the overbearing voices in their head. He always eats with them, introducing them to new foods he thinks they'd like and giving them the bigger portion (when they get used to stomaching it ofc). Holds their hand. Protects them from the small things and encourages them with the big things, because he knows they can handle it and they just need that little nudge. And to know that someone is right behind them the whole time.

All that good stuff.

(and Casey is so jazzed two of his favorite people are getting along so well aaaa!!)

—hey or maybe it's a healthy mix of both!! ♡₊˚ yeahhhhh.

big BIG ride-or-die energy. I like to imagine that (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)

At the end of the day, they'd die for each other all over again. It gets to THAT point.

Both figuratively and literally.

One milestone in their bond took place and in a way nobody really saw coming—

They were in the Hidden City, stopping by Señor Hueso's for some good grub,

but Leo's leg was pinching a bit more today, and Reader felt a migraine coming on; they wanted to get back home for Mikey's Miracle Migraine Tea, maybe a scalp massage if they pulled the puppy eyes the aforementioned taught them in the future (they don't need to. he'd do it at the drop of a hat. they just like to be eggstra 💅🏼),

so they're both kinda rushing this little outing. Reader's a touch grouchy and their notorious RBF makes a whole comeback, but Leo knows them well enough to know it's not directed at him. He feels for ya, and he sticks close as you both wait for your pickup order to come through.

Then, out of nowhere, some gigantuan yokai comes skulking over.

Reader notices immediately, having folded to lay their head on the cool countertop at the pickup counter; Leo was rubbing up and down their back in comforting circles, smiling down at them with warm, sympathetic eyes as he tries to distract them from their discomfort. He was too focused on them to notice.

and when they spot the glint in the yokai's eyes, they can practically smell the sinister intention as they stride over to them. They're looking for something they had no business to.

Reader tenses, hackles raised and fingers twitching where they gripped the forearms of their hoodie, and their eyes gleam as they peek out from under their hood.

Leo, who thinks they're about to be sick, frets and gently maneuvers them to sit on a nearby stool; he doesn't see the yokai until he's being clapped on the shoulder - the one that's sore, conveniently so - and nearly jumps out of his skin when he whirls on them.

This yokai - stocky, menacing, and a sadistic air about them, simply chuckles and cocks their head at the duo. They're wearing a server's uniform. Reader and Leo both realize it at once-- Reader with dread and Leo with (miscalculated) relief: they're an employee.

Anyways, Leo is put-off by this sudden intrusion of personal space and onslaught of bad vibes, but he's the Face Man and naturally a people person, so he greets them casually and asks if he can help them.

Alongside the incessant ringing in their ears that's their warning before disaster, alarm bells started going off in their head.

They can't really discern what Leo and this bum are saying at this point - everything was fuzzy and garbled like they were underwater; even from their vulnerability sprawled out over the countertop, Reader can tell from their body language that the convo is going in a very wrong direction,

especially when Leo is suddenly shoved back- too hard- and lands in a graceless heap on the floor behind them.

Your mind goes blank. A mindset that was wired into your being from birth – one you haven't had to enter for a while – burns your mind and chest and the alarm bells are deafening, even more so than the sudden uproar of commotion happening vaguely around you.

You're not focused on them. You become laser-focused on the yokai behind you, and between one breath and the next, you're out of your seat and tackling the yokai with a snarl, and you're beating the ever-loving spirits out of them.

You don't stop. You grab at fur and a muzzle, probably a tusk, but you don't care. You don't care, you don't care, you don't care–

– – you're relentless.

All that was in your head was blaring red letters: Protect. Family. Leo. Hurt. Still recovering. Threat. Protect.

Strike.

White-hot rage is pumping through your veins and powering your every strike.

You have them by the nape and slam the yokai's face into the ground muzzle/snout-first; you throw punch after elbow after backhand after punch, even as you feel bone and tendon cracking rather explicitly beneath your knuckles,

and when you're kicked off, rather weakly all things considered–

it doesn't deter you at all.

You use the airborne energy to bounce right back off the countertop (it would ache and bruise like heck later),

rip the stool that you were occupying just moments earlier, clean off its hinges,

and start wailing in on the no-good lowlife bully that thought it beneficial to try your brother.

–– it doesn't stop until the very seat of the stool cracks to shrapnel, the center rolling away like a hubcap, and you're gripping the bar in your hands, heaving like you just ran a marathon.

When the yokai unfolds their arms from shielding their head to peek at you, scrambling to stand, shaking and wide-eyed, your gaze is ferocious.

The skeleton of the once-seat in your hand gets thrown right at their face with a ridiculous strength, and if their muzzle/snout wasn't broken before, it was shattered now.

The yokai shrieks in pain and goes right back down as red iron seeps from their nose, mouth, through their fingers, writhing on the floor-

and you stomp forwards, plant your foot steady in the center of their chest, and press in close until you can see their pupils trembling; that's when you finally speak your first words of the evening:

"Don't you ever come near my brother again. If I see your sorry shank even breathe in his general direction? That stool? The end will find itself shoved right up your pathetic excuse of a voice box. You'd like that, yeah?"

Terrified head shakes and an even more terrified wheeze in response,

"You listen and you listen real good, geezer. I will find you, and a simple warning like this will be the least of your troubles. A warning in which I'm letting you off with, seeing as you're clearly mistaken in your endeavors. Even think of touching Leo, and you deal with this except a thousand times over. It won't be just me. Okay?"

your poorly concealed sadism makes a minor appearance in the sudden change of pitch in your voice and the smarmy grin that stretches your dry lips as you quirk your head and eyebrows in question; when the yokai does nothing but give an immediate jerky nod, you gently pat the side of their face, satisfied.

–which was a lull into a false sense of security, because you shifted your entire body weight and last bit of strength to shove their face back down as you stood up, ignoring their yowl of agony as you did so.

meanwhile everyone in the restaurant be like:🧍

when you came to, everything crashed into you at once: nausea rolled in violent waves in your stomach, the migraine came thrumming full-force, and your ribs creaked as you stumbled over to a shellshocked Leo.

You pulled him up on shaky legs, but much like every patron in the joint, his eyes were trained on the yokai you just obliterated, still writhing on the ground.

Eventually, Senor comes rushing out and, taking in the damage of the scene, demands an explanation. Reader is all-too glad to give it to him, eyes glazed over and voice a lot more calmer than the actual predator they previously were

But once they do, his eyes look over both of them and soften, especially when he takes in how Leo is visibly shaking and Readie looks like they're milliseconds away from passing out.

They get out of there, food in tow, Leo still extremely shell-shocked and Reader worse for wear at what just transpired.

Blue barely manages a portal home- but they do, and when they're safe in the familiarity of the Lair, they both metaphorically collapse.

The night ends with the perturbed fretting of the Clan, but it all boils down to one thing for sure.

Leo has Reader's hand in his, Reader is gripping with the same intensity, and they refuse to be separated for the next few days thereafter.

Anata wa hitori janai.

That is the Hamato way.

oh and that employee never showed up to the restaurant again :D sorry not sorry for using them as collateral for my bebes

more tidbits that came to mind when typing that storm up:

reader's a bad mofo . didn't ya know they were the scourge of the apocalypse? they were clandestinely feared by the kraang. leo kept them under wraps bc he knew how powerful they were. (/j) reader: they protecc, they attacc, but most of all, they gone need ice for they bacc SNRRRTTT

☁️🖇️🥛

HOOOWEEEEE, THAT'LL DO IT– ˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ I hope you do read all this, sugarcube!! I got kind of carried away, ahaha ^^;; I'm sowwwyyyy!~ But i AM excited to hear your thoughts, whenever that may be! <333

I'm mostly glad I finally got the well-awaited scenario in there!! Basically, Leo has a no-no moment with some lowkey bully and Reader completely overcompensates, even thought they're BOTH still tender from war, yet they go batty-bonkers over his oppression! >:( Don't touch their family!!! The scenario was inspired by a ficlet I read a while ago with Leo in the same situation, but Reader was in Donnie's place :''))) I'll have to find it for ya if you haven't read it yet-

aaa after this, i think i can chill without so much heaviness!! i need to indulge in some crack! some fluff! somethin' now that we've explored the reader and leo's dynamic!! they're the sillies ever and we need more!!

muwah! Hasta la vista, baeby! I'll be back!~ /p

Aaaa goodnight now XD! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ Love ya loads, toots!! Enjoy the nomz, haha!🍓❣🍰💌🧸

Ok. First of all, and most importantly, I FREAKIN LOVE THE GOOFY MOVIE IT'S LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAVS EVER- AFTER TODAY IS MY FUCKING JAM-

ALSO ON THE OPEN ROAD??? HEHEH

Ahem.

Now that that's out of my system, let the headcanons begin...

READER'S HEALING PROCESS POST-MOVIE

....................................

Post-movie, after everything calms down, and everyone's just trying to heal,

You definitly open up a bit more.

You'll apologize to everyone for how you acted before,

For being so hostile towards them.

Casey will 100% nudge Leo and you into hanging out together.

It was hard to do since you avoided Leo like the plauge, and he kinda thought you hated him or something.

Casey manages to kill the awkwardness, and now you and Leo go EVERYWHERE together.

Besties for realzies.

Donnie will try to be subtle with his gifting,

Spoiler: he isn't.

Most of the time he'll just leave whatever it is on Reader's bed for them to find with a small note.

He's dissmissive when you thank him too,

"Don't worry about." "It's no big deal."

The projector is now your most prized possesion aside from your mask.

I feel like you always had trouble sleeping in the dark,

In the future it would have been hard to have any kind of nightlight.

Limited resources and all.

So Uncle Michelangelo would fill your and Casey's room with little glowing lights.

Think Gaurdians of The Galaxy when Groot saves everyone, the little balls of light?

So thats what you usually project into the room.

And obviously you and Casey will have the occasional stargazing night.

Meeting Raph for you was pretty much the equivilent of Casey fan-girling over Leonardo.

The stories Papa told you about him made Raph sound like some kind of super hero.

So when you met him, you had to physically try to keep your rbf on, and not freak out.

You think he's so freakin' cool-

Omg if you show even the slightest signs of discomfort or sadness Mikey is on that crap.

Here comes Dr. Feelings, tell him what's wrong.

No family of his is going to be sad for long.

He'll 100% do his best to make you and Casey feel more at home in your new timeline.

Sometimes you'll turn the tables and now you're Dr. Feelings.

He doesn't like it, but he knows mental health is important, so he deals and ya'll have therapy sessions with eachother.

You not so subtly try to spend lots of time with Splinter as well.

You didn't have very much time with your Grandpa before the end of the world took him as well,

But now he's here, and you can tell that he did not change one bit with time.

His younger counter-part is exactly the same as the one you knew in the future.

You do the same thing with Draxxum as well and omfg he is so weirded out.

Like, why does this teenager want to willingly spend time with me? Did Mikey put you up to this? WHAT IS GOING ON-

But nope.

You just missed your weird alchemist Gramps.

April takes you for walks around the city, kinda showing you and Casey what it looks like when it isn't in complete ruins.

She shows you all the cool things it has to offer, and you even come back to the Lair with some shiny things you find on the ground!

You lost your old collection when you left your old timeline, so now you have to start your hoard all over :(

It's ok though, people drop tons of shiny things down water ways and sewer drains.

You and Leo will wander around the tunnels and look for your shinies.

It's a bonding experience, and he teases you about it.

Great gallileo the back and forths between you are so horrible.

They last almost all day, and when ever one of you starts one evryone groans out loud.

The only two people who can get you two to drop it and leave eachother alone are Casey and Raph, but Casey rarely does anything to stop it-

Once you and Leo get close he is such a little terd-

Teasing, and picking and poking.

Big brother energy for realzies.

He'll wake you up by playing California Girls really loud in your ear, and then giggle about it all day, while you try not to strangle him.

If he ever overexerts himself, god help him escape the scolding-

EVERYONE is on his shell about it.

But ESPECIALLY you.

It's even worse when you get upset at him, because after everyome else is done scolding him, they'll move on.

But you? You are so petty about it.

You scold him for hours,

Then you'll just kinda... sit there, silently glaring off into space.

It makes him feel so bad for worrying Reader, that he doesn't overwork himself more than like- five times before guilt makes him just chill tf out and heal.

That scenario you wrote, where Reader absolutely rocks that yokai's shit for messing with Leo?

(Wonderfully written by the way, truely a masterpiece)

First of all total fuck around 'n find out energy.

Second of all, I'm in LOVE with the idea of Reader going absolutely feral on the battle field.

In the future, EVERY fight was life or death, and I think Reader may need to learn that here, in this timeline, not every fight requires you to freakin' wreck the opponent.

Raph kinda has that talk with them after Senor told him how they messed that employee up.

Not every fight requires your 100%.

Then he'll totally congradulate you for destroying that jerk that hurt Leo.

Reader gets a reward cookie.

....................................

Apologies this took so long to answer my dear (/p).

But here it is!! That scenario at Runof The Mill- *chefs kiss*

Beautiful. Amazingly written. I LIVE for feral reader.

[starqueensthings]

Dork Love: Part One (of probably three because I can’t be tamed)

AO3 | Next Chapter

Summary: A scowling stranger brings a damaged riflescope into your store for repair and, always willing to defer responsibility for the sake of charity, you take on the challenge. When you return it to him, he brings along another… obstacle. An adorably goggled, bad-postured obstacle who seems as infatuated with your intelligence, as you are with his twinkly (magnified) eyes.

Pairing: GN!Reader x Tech (can also be read as ND!GN!Reader x ND!Tech if you squint)

POV/Rating/WC: 2nd, all readers welcome, 6355 Words.

A/N: This masquerades as a Crosshair fic at first, but I was insistent on writing something other than Medic!Reader for this one, and Tech is not the kind of man that develops intimacy quickly so it’s structured as a slow burn with a little more backstory. Extra thanks to @staycalmandhugaclone for beta reading this one… twice. She catches all my made up words (slajacked? embarriered? LOL) and makes my disjointed writing readable. LYSM ❤️

A heavy sigh, laden with guilt and culpability, left your lips at the sight of the impending workload behind your cash register. The teetering stack of acrylic trays, each holding the paid invoice of an order in need of processing, sat benignly on the counter, awaiting the moment that you would finally succumb to the gnaw of responsibility and turn your wandering attention to them. The smattering of plastic containers that you’d locked the door on without even a breath of anxiety, your overstimulated mind full of assurances that you’d gift them your undivided attention the following morning, had somehow mutated into a looming tower of things to do and the desperate desire to defer them again now consumed you.

The impeccant ring of the bell that hung above the door had thankfully silenced, and the void of its tinkling alarm saw a peaceful moment of respite and a fresh mug of caf wreathed by hands covered in dried lens polish and seemingly permanently stained with the ink of your trusty red lens pen.

In spite of the lingering exhaustion and the continuous ache in your feet, every complaint that threatened to spill from your tongue was swallowed and substituted with a quiet murmur of appreciation. Since you’d purchased the optical store from your uncle, you’d been blessed with an expanding clientele and an increasing revenue, though despite the economic growth, the inception of your ownership had been fraught with challenges. Your uncle was, and always had been, a kooky and eccentric old chap, and one that had stubbornly deferred his retirement from the industry for decades too long. His later, wizened years had seen him develop a peculiar and surreptitious habit of concealing his deteriorating mind with impugnable, makeshift repairs on his already ancient optical equipment. More troublesome than his DIY endeavours, however, was the recurrent burying of evidence, ensuring that his mounting financial hardship was conveniently camouflaged and ‘misplaced’ with the several hundred overdue invoices. Three consecutive years later, and thousands of credits funnelled regrettably yet optimistically into the pocket of an accountant, the metaphorical dumpster-fire that you purchased from your father’s zany older brother had finally turned profitable.

The storefront was auspiciously located on the uppermost level of Coruscant’s nefarious ‘Underworld’, meaning the demographics of your clientele was as diverse as the galaxy was. Politicians, concealing their bulging wallets beneath expertly-sewn and ornate robes, were some of your favourite customers to interact with, as years of experience in medical sales had seen you master the tactful art of disengaging lowball negotiations. Paradoxically, it was the impoverished customers making their way up from the callous clutches of the lower levels that posed your biggest challenge; their often heartbreaking stories of systemic neglect fueled the philanthropic flame that flickered deep in your gut. The inception of the war had enchained many in the shackles of financial hardship and desperation, and while pleading ignorance and naivety was the route that many Coruscanti citizens opted to take, the desire to temporarily close your shop and traverse the galaxy doing missionary work was becoming difficult to stifle.

Yet you were as logical as you were benevolent, and despite the constant pull towards a life of nomadic altruism, the fact remained that you had invested too many days and even more credits resurrecting this business to simply abandon it in its infancy.

The squeak of the rolling desk chair echoed around the quiescent room as you sat yourself down behind the computer, determined to use the hot caf in your hands as a catalyst to ignite the engines of motivation into life. The chrono on the wall ticked on, unaffected by the looming task list that you continued to abscond from; moments stretched to minutes, your hands poised and motionless over the keyboard, and the resolve to work kept simply evaporating, wafting into the air and vanishing faster than the steam from your mug.

‘Damnit, I forgot to water my plants this morning…’ Your eyes were affixed on a the pair of prescription swimming goggles nestled in the tray that you’d perched in front of you nearly twenty minutes ago, yet the mental image of your limp fig tree, neglected the decency of water for the second straight week, was all your unfocussed eyes could see. ‘But I should probably prune it before I water it… and if I’m going through the hassle of pruning it, I should probably repot it fi—’

The sudden jangling of the bell broke you from your listless stupor, sending a startled jerk through your shoulders and pulling your gaze upward to the figure stepping into your space. The detail of his appearance remained momentarily obscured, shrouded in the shadows cast by the bright sunlight pouring in the door behind him, though it was immediately apparent by the rigid armour that enveloped his tall frame that he was a soldier or mercenary of sorts.

“Hello,” you called to him, alerting him of your presence behind the counter, but his response to the greeting and the small smile you’d hitched onto your face, was nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement, his eyes narrowing slightly as they darted around the walls of your shop.

Curiosity tipped your head to one side, and you watched him with reserved intrigue as he neared the counter, his big, metallic boots thunking heavily on the wood floors with every step. The armament that adorned his figure was dark, and unlike anything you’d seen before. The clone troopers on Coruscant typically wore protective suits of white plastoid, and were conversationally quite warm and friendly, but this man’s presence, complete with a frown and a crosshair tattoo, issued none of those vibes.

“What can I do for you?” you probed, ignoring the protest of your aching feet as you stood and met him across the counter. He hastened to fold his arms over his chest, throwing into sharp relief the sniper pole extending proudly from his left shoulder bell.

“What do you know about scopes?” he asked you, the smoke that bathed his words raising the small hairs on the back of your neck.

“What kind of scopes?” you quizzed back to him, wrenching your eyes from the intimidating tool on his shoulder. “Oculars? Speculars?”

“Rifle.” In stark contrast to the way he carried himself— slithering and softly, as if he funneled every effort into not preventing his movements from making a sound, his reply was direct, curt, and impatient, and despite your best efforts to repress it, the contradiction pulled a small smirk onto your face.

“I should have known,” you answered apologetically, gesturing with a flick of your eyes towards the pole on his pauldron, and for the second time in as many minutes, he forewent a spoken response, instead flicking his eyebrows and letting the ghost of a laugh huff from his nose.

“I studied a decent amount,” you continued, bewilderment budding inside of you as the peculiar stranger reached around to a pouch on his belt and retracted a toothpick. “But we don’t sell them. We’re mainly a spectacle sho—”

“I’m not buying,” he interrupted with another impatient little shake of his head. “There’s something… off… with mine.”

The intentionally vague nature of his complaint prompted the arch of your left eyebrow to raise, and it was with genuine perplexity that you replied. “Off? In what way?”

The rhythmic dance of toothpick across scowling lips filled the silent space of his hesitation, and the shadow of scepticism flitted behind his eyes as he peered down his nose at you.

“It sounds idiotic,” he muttered through teeth clenched around his wooden pacifier, “But the visuals are being distorted… and it seems to be at random.”

Your brows furrowed against the continued ambiguity of his complaints, and though you would never voice it aloud, his grievance did sound somewhat idiotic and nonsensical. Intermittent distortion through a set of lenses was not a concept you had ever come across, as typically someone’s vision was either clear, or it wasn’t. His hesitation to provide the description now seemed warranted, and it was your turn to entertain a scowled moment of hesitancy as you fought to digest his undetailed explanation.

“I’m not following you,” you sighed, both coming up short on an explanation and growing increasingly wary of his man-of-few-words attitude. “Do you have it with you?”

He unfolded his arms from their knot across his chest, exposing a thin, black plastoid case previously invisible by the tight ensconce of his gloved hand. The rigid container looked vaguely familiar to you, though your mind barely had a moment to dawdle in potential recognition before he was deftly unlatching the closure on the lid and pulling the scope from its velvet bedding.

Eyes widening with wonder, you collected the tool from him, your outstretched hand instantly sagging under the unexpected weight of the equipment. Your exposure to military grade weapon accessories, and knowledge of the various optical tools available for combat was limited, but one did not have to be an expert in the field to know this was a highly sophisticated, and highly coveted tool.

“Sometimes I’ll line up a shot with no issue,” he divulged, his sharp eyes dissecting your movements as you rotated the scope delicately in your fingers. “Other times, the image of the target seems warped. But I haven’t been able to establish a pattern, and none of my brothers see anything wrong.”

“Hmm,” you acknowledged, concentration pulling your lips tightly to one side. “That’s definitely… odd… and it seems random? Intermittent?”

He offered nothing but a small grunt of confirmation, supervising your twiddling of the tool with unwarranted intensity as if poised to pounce should you dare to mishandle his prized possession, but curiosity had entirely banished your unease of his demeanour, and it was eagerly that you returned the ocular to your eye.

The Snellen chart, hung at eye level across the room and inscribed letters of varying sizes, became the recipient of your attention; while designed to measure how effectively one could see at a specific distance without their glasses on, it acted appropriately well as a makeshift visual barometer for your diagnostics. Though despite alternating eyes, rotating the scope both clockwise and counterclockwise, and shifting your position behind the counter to create a variance in lighting, you failed to see anything that was overtly distorted or warped. The notion that you may not be able to solve the stranger’s problem simply because you couldn’t see it to diagnose it, pulled a disappointed frown onto your lips, usurping the confident determination you’d felt only minutes previously.

Still, he watched you mercilessly, impatience and expectation etched into the every superficial crease on his forehead. It was only as you moved to the lower the scope, prepared to sadly explain that he’d have to try elsewhere, did your departing gaze finally catch a micro glimpse of the issue. The distortion was there… but barely, and his brothers’ failure to corroborate the issue became instantly validated.

“Interesting,” you mused under your breath, locking your gaze on the minutely warped quadrant of the chart and turning the scope slowly in your fingers. “I think I see what you’re talking about,” you continued quietly, your refusal to lose sight of the issue subconsciously keeping the tone of your voice hushed. “It… it doesn’t seem like an issue of direct clarity, so the integrity of the lens coating must be intact… and the reticle itself is orientated at the correct rotation, so that rules out the first focal plane…”

Your hushed diagnostic rambling trailed away to silence as a theory emerged to the forefront of your mind. Before his frowning lips could wrap themselves around a sardonic response, you lowered the equipment from your eye, gripped it tightly in your hand, and flung your arm aggressively downwards, a motion reminiscent of trying to force a small amount of ketchup through the opening of a large bottle. His posture straightened hastily, and his horrified expression on his lithe face combined with the sharp gasp that slapped his throat, had you momentarily fearful he might pluck the toothpick from its clamp between his teeth and toss it at you like a javelin.

“Kriff, be careful.” It was not a request but a demand, leaving his lips in a hiss that suited his demeanor much more than that curt impatience he’d emanated earlier. “That’s my favourite scope.”

His warning went ignored, a prideful self-satisfaction smothering the duress of his mistrust as you peered through the scope again and found the resolution you had expected. “Ha,” you cheered in a whisper, orienting yourself towards him again. “Look now. Tell me if it’s any different.” You held the weighty scope out to him and gestured to the chart across the room. Still tinged with the horror brought on by your seemingly impulsive disregard for his property, his scowl intensified, exacerbated by a budding sense of scrutiny, but despite his dubious disbelief, he took the tool from your extended palm and brought it to his tattooed eye.

The speed in which he ran the scope through his own set of visual diagnostics was nothing short of remarkable, and it was this behavior, not the hissed warnings of care that reinforced his attachment to the tool. “Hmm,” he eventually grunted, his expression now impassive. “Seems normal actually.”

Eager to share your theory, you shifted your weight to your elbows. “I’m thinking the second focal plane might have dislodged in the chamber somehow,” you advised him. “Is there quite a bit of recoil from your rifle?”

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, almost entirely banishing the tension in his brow and softening his expression to a nearly unidentifiable degree, and it was only barely that you contained the smile threatening to engulf your own features. “She’s got a bit of a kick,” he admitted slyly, flicking the toothpick noisily with the tip of his tongue. “But that’s not going to change. So what now?”

You sighed through your nose, gaze affixed on the piece of equipment clutched in his long fingers as a merciless tug-of-war erupted in your mind. It had been years since the opportunity to tinker with something as niche and unique as a long-range rifle scope had fallen into your hands, but the mountain of work already awaiting your attention was formidable, and could not be ethically delayed any longer.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you offered, sheer curiosity sending a right hook in the direction of your better judgement. “But I won’t be able to identify the root of the problem, or the solution, until I take it apart and run diagnostics on the individual pieces.”

His softened expression receded entirely, the soggy strip of wood in his teeth continuing to dance across now scowling lips as he cocked a dark eyebrow and glowered at you, but you matched the reemergence of mistrust with a neutral stare, drumming your nails lightly on the desk between you and watching the cogs of indecision turn behind his eyes. His top lip flattened slightly, tense with threats and warnings of caution that he longed to voice aloud, but he was as aware as he was cranky; his desperation for a solution seemingly outweighing his skepticism, and he restrained every admonishment lingering on his tongue.

“Like I said,” he snarled, refusing to soften the glare he was sending your way. “It’s my favourite scope.”

You swallowed against a mixture of disappointment and offense, embittered that this unnecessarily stern man had actively sought your help with his problem, but was too suspicious and wary to grant you the permission to fix it, despite having seemingly identified the root of the issue before his eyes. You hitched an ingenuine smile to your face and shrugged, perching yourself back on the seat of your squeaky desk chair and pulling the swimming goggles towards you. “It’s your choice,” you reminded him, rousing your slumbering monitor to life with the prod of your finger. “You can leave it and be no worse off… or I can take it apart and have a go at fixing it.”

Silence ensued in the following moment, a quiet broken only by the occasional click of wood against molar and the rhythmic tapping of your fingers on the keyboard, but despite his seemingly steadfast refusal to accept your offer, he didn’t move from his perch against the counter.

“Fine,” he grumbled, taking you by surprise and immediately stealing your attention back. “But I fly out at sunset, so I’ll need it back before then.”

“I can do that.” Thrilled by the valid excuse to delay ordering it (and its neglected comrades) for another few hours, you happily pushed the acrylic tray housing the goggles away from you and stood from your chair. “I close up shop before then anyways. Actually, there’s a shooting range about a block west of here. I can meet you there in a couple hours, and you can fire off a couple shots to see if my handiwork holds up.”

“Deal.” He stood up straight and plucked the strip of wood from his lips, flicking it to the floor at his feet without a second thought. “Name’s Crosshair.”

“Crosshair,” you repeated after offering your name in return, and with a gesture towards the tattoo around his eye you said: “Should have known.”

***

The sun that had so refreshingly bathed the planet that afternoon was readying itself for another night of slumber, sinking ever lower toward the horizon with each passing minute, and its void in the musty industrial building sent a shiver down your back.

A small alcove set into the wall, adorned with a smattering safety notices, acted as a landing zone for those entering and exiting the active firing lanes. An obnoxiously heavy, rolling durasteel door separated the two areas, and it was with an almost comical level of exertion that you managed to roll the door ajar just wide enough to squeeze through the gap. The audible rumble of the long-ago seized wheels was lost amongst the echoing din that bathed your ears in the room beyond; each of the two dozen lanes occupied by a duo of armed beings, jeering at each other over missed shots and poor grips.

If the sniper pole protruding menacingly from his shoulder wasn’t enough to make him easily distinguishable in the shadows opposite, then the stunning contrast of his silver hair and his dark armour certainly was, and it was with haste that you crossed the room toward his pacing position. The separation from his prized possession seemed to have rendered him, shockingly, more impatient than hours previously, the soggy toothpick between his frowning lips dancing ceaselessly while the thumb on each of his hands aggressively cracked the knuckles of its neighbouring fingers. But while his appearance and obvious restlessness had initially captured your attention, it did not hold it. Something else caught your eye… someone else.

A second man stood in close proximity to the sniper, almost identical in height though the stoop in his posture, brought on by the intent downwards gaze toward the device clutched in his hands, ensured a less imposing presence than his broad shouldered, glaring neighbour. He seemed at first glance, to be an extraordinary dichotomy to his companion, the perfect ying to Crosshair’s yang; where one’s hair shone brightly in the light of the buzzing fluorescent bulbs overhead, the other’s reflected the dark of shadowed corners, where one’s cuirass was deliberately painted dark, the other’s remained white, adorned with colour only minimally, and where Crosshair’s impatience was evident, with his sharp eyes darting mercilessly around the room, his companion seemed content to remain still, gaze affixed to the screen only inches from his nose.

‘Must be one of his brothers,’ you concluded as you approached the loitering duo.

Crosshair detected your arrival almost immediately; the intensity of his unrelenting gaze as you crossed the room to his position rendered your friendly “hello,” completely redundant. A double-take interrupted the greeting poised on your tongue for his companion, the unexpected allure of his features, thrown into relief by close proximity and the fleeting shift of his attention from the device in his hands to you, rendered you briefly inarticulate.

He continued to look remarkably different from his brother at second glance, with a squarer jaw, fuller lips, a more substantial frame (disguised by poor posture, a slight bow in his legs, and significantly less armour), and a set of dark goggles framing a pair of stunningly warm, brown eyes.

“Any luck?” Crosshair probed impatiently, opting to forgo niceties for the second time that day.

“Yeah, some,” you assuaged with a nod, tearing your gaze away from his brother. “My first assumptions were largely correct. The second focal plane must have dislodged in the scope’s housing at some point. Unless you knocked it pretty forcefully against something, a theory I can rule-out based on the otherwise pristine condition of the equipment, it was likely the extended period of repeated recoil that caused the dislocation.”

The large, goggled eyes had directed themselves to you again, this time almost urgently and paired with an abrupt jerk of his head in your direction. The jarring motion stole your attention mid-sentence, the recited explanation rolling off your tongue turning laggy and discombobulated under the intensity of his wide-eyed, astonished stare. Your eyebrows lifted slightly as you turned to face the slack jawed stranger, but no sooner did your gaze fall onto his blushing face, did he avert his focus from you again.

“Okay, and?” Crosshair asked, his probe prompting you to frantically try and find the lost train of thought from the previous second.

“Honestly,” you continued, redirecting your attention to the sniper, “With how minutely displaced the lens was, I’m impressed you even noticed.”

“Impressed?” Crosshair repeated, cocking an eyebrow in apparent disbelief. “Why?”

“Well… mathematically, any change in the relative vertex distance between focal planes will cause a deviation in the refracted ray, thus distorting the perceived real image…” The goggled man’s head snapped violently upwards again, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as his attention darted back and forth between you and his silver haired brother. “...but the second focal plane was only dislodged by about a millimetre. You must have pretty fantastic eyesight to pick up on such a small visual misalignment.” A fleeting glance to your right confirmed that the goggled man’s twinkly brown eyes were affixed on you, and it was with a foreign sense of budding shyness, that you extended the plastoid box out to Crosshair.

“Did you fix it?” he queried, collecting the offering and promptly unlatching the lid.

“Only temporarily, unfortunately.” A disappointed grimace weighed down your response. “It likely happened during the initial dislodging, but the bevel that holds the lens in place is significantly chipped. I’ve re-embedded it into its grooved housing, but I wouldn’t rely on it being a permanent solution.”

The disappointment that saturated your explanation did not seem to be mutual as the sniper wasted no time dropping to a knee beside you and pulling the pack from his shoulders. He retrieved the scope from its enclosement first, abandoning its container to the stone floor at your feet, before collecting and clicking together the deconstructed rifle parts that he wore on his back. Eager to avoid being accidentally knocked by the intimidatingly long rifle barrel being mounted into place, you turned and took a small step sideways.

The toe of your boot, however, didn’t descend as gracefully as you’d intended, instead snagging itself upon something domed and rigid, simultaneously sending your right ankle tipping sideways, and your arms outwards in a frantic motion to stabilize yourself. It wasn’t until you’d steadied the breath in your lungs that your eyes located the tripping hazard, ready to kick it away lest you step on it again. Embarrassment flooded your veins. It was a boot…

“Oh kriff, I’m sorry!” you cried, immediately relieving your fingers of their iron grip around the goggled man’s forearm. “I should have looked before I moved. Did I hurt you?”

Fuelled by the pounding of your heart in your chest, a heat rose quickly and earnestly to your cheeks as dazzling brown eyes widened behind those goggles again. An awkward silence expanded in the air between you as he failed to answer, and you hastily shifted your attention to Crosshair’s retreating figure, reconstructed rifle pointed upwards to the ceiling as he headed towards the nearby shooting lane.

“You did not. Our footwear is impregnated with a multilayered durasteel core that is able to withstand over 150kg of pressure, and you do not appear to have a mass equivalent to or exceeding that. However, the unanticipated need to anchor yourself with my arm nearly caused me to drop my datapad.”

It may have been the curt, matter-of-fact tone in which he spoke, another complete inverse to the slithery smoke of his brothers voice; it may have been the awkward and inelegant cadence of his reply; it may have been the adorable shift of his goggles on the bridge of his nose as he averted his gaze from you again that triggered a flutter in your gut, but for the second time, you found yourself momentarily tongue-tied.

“That would have been bad,” you somehow managed to force out under the duress of the giddy smile fighting to adorn your lips.

“Indeed,” he breathed.

His attention returned bashfully to the illuminated screen in his hands, the tops of his ears reddening slightly against the brush of his dark hairline, and you took the deviation of his gaze as an opportunity to survey his goggles. It was not the untraditional choice of eyewear that warranted your curiousity, as a strapped goggle was an entirely appropriate choice for a soldier who was likely constantly active, nor was it the recording device, mounted expertly along his right temple and aglow in the dim lighting of the corner either. It was his lenses: tragically thick, horribly smudged, and inducing a degree of magnification that you saw only rarely in the industry.

‘Poor hyperopes,’ you thought to yourself, the inherent squint of his eyes as they fought to focus through a series of ungodly fingerprints pulling an adoring smile onto your lips.

“Sorry if this is a little strange but… can I clean your lenses?” You spoke deliberately lightly and aloofly, intent on ensuring that he took no offense to your offer, and it was with a subdued tentativeness that you watched the adam’s apple bob in his throat.

“Clean my lenses?” he repeated, returning his gaze to you with dark brows knitted slightly in befuddlement.

“Yes,” you confirmed, blindly reaching into your bag for your trusted, green microfiber cloth. “They are filthy, and I don’t know how you can see anything.”

An unexplained affection welled inside of you as his thin fingers nimbly shifted his goggles again, exposing the repeated gesture as a soothing motion; the smallest of irrelevant movements acting as a pacifier against situations where discomfort threatened to provoke him.

“I did not realize the poor nature of their condition,” he admitted, indefinitely suspending the back and forth of his attention by stowing his datapad away into one of many pouches around his waist.

“You wouldn’t,” you answered with a small shrug and a smile, watching his features tense momentarily under the duress of pulling his goggles off. “Hyperopic, or ‘far-sighted’ people, by nature, struggle to see anything in the immediate vicinity of their gaze. That’s why they can never tell if their glasses are dirty or their lenses are scratched. So… you can’t help it.”

“You… are correct.” He answered slowly, his tone still dripping in what sounded like pleasant astonishment as he extended his goggles out to you. “A mutation in my genetic structure caused an innocent yet bothersome bilateral malformation of my corneas, resulting in a significant degree of hyperopia.”

“That’s probably putting it lightly.” A small chuckle left your mouth as you swaddled the left lens with your cloth and began to deftly wipe away the sea of fingerprints. Much like Crosshair had while his precious scope was being tended to in the foreign clutches of a stranger, this man watched your practiced hands intently and possessively as you worked to polish away any signs of a smudge.

The fluorescent bulbs suspended two-dozen feet above you were nowhere near as effective as the optical-grade backlit yellow panel that sat in the corner of your workshop, but were just luminescent enough to affirm you’d removed the last of the oily smears before you pocketed your cloth. A knowing smirk peeled its way across your lips as you shifted the lenses to-and-fro in front of your mildly squinted eyes, observing how the biconcavity on the front surface bent the reflection of the overhead light. “What’s the nature of your prescription?” you questioned as your left eye closed and your fingers rotated his goggles. “I’m assuming just based on the Against-Motion principle, that you’re probably around a +8.00? Maybe a +9.00?”

He blinked rapidly and repeatedly, seemingly trying to rid his vision of the anatomical blur that would forever plague him in the void of his goggles before answering.“I… am not certain of the exact dioptric correction,” he divulged, now grinding his knuckles into his eyes. “But I believe your estimation to be accurate. I am impressed that you could make such a determination based loosely on the principles of magnification alone.”

“It’s my job.” While you were able to modestly shrug away the giddiness of his inferred praise, your composure was no match for the accentuation of his sharp jawline, thrown into relief as the first hint of a smile tugged his cheek toward his ear. “I handle dozens of lenses every day,” you continued, averting your eyes to the goggles you held out to him. “I’m well practiced.”

“That is obvious.”

The affable response waiting just behind your smirking lips was halted in place by the return of the sniper as he reappeared at his brother’s side, his lithe face impassive and his rifle already snuggled into its cradle in his pack.

“Big improvement,” he uttered, the nod of appreciation that followed his words filling you with a mixture of relief and pride. “What do I owe you?”

“Not a thing,” you answered with a dismissing wave of the hand. The sight of notoriously scowling lips now taut behind a satisfied smile was enough to support that delaying your nefarious to-do list, while undeniably irresponsible, was the right decision. “It was actually nice to have a bit of a challenge for once. Like I said, it’ll hold for a while but it’s not a forever fix.”

“Disappointing.” Faster than it had come, the sly smile on his face disappeared, replaced in a breath by a glum grimace as he plucked the toothpick from the tight clamp of his teeth and flicked it to the floor at his feet. “Pretty sure that model is out of production now.”

“Sure is,” you confirmed, sympathetically matching his grimace with one of your own. “I did some research today—” (goggles snapped his head in your direction again) “—from the limited information that I could find, your model was the last that incorporated a biconcave first focal plane. But… I actually found an alternative tucked away in my workshop.” You reached a hand blindly into your bag, the keys to your speeder jingling as you roughly pushed them aside in search of the stiff plastoid box you’d shoved into the depths before leaving work. “The internal components are the same, but the barrel attachment clip differs from yours.”

Crosshair spared the offering only a microglance before the crease between his dark brows deepened, his top lip flattening at the thick layer of dust that blanketed the white plastoid case. You grinned apologetically at the sight of his disgusted expression, and an understanding began to click together like puzzle pieces in your mind. Crosshair’s man-of-few-words ethos was not one of implied supremacy as you had initially presumed, he simply communicated more effectively with his expressions and mannerisms than he did with words.

“The box looks like it hasn’t been touched in centuries,” you admitted, pushing the case into his chest, “but the scope itself is pristine. You’re welcome to keep it if you think it’s suitable.”

His gaze danced across your features skeptically as if dissecting it for any sign of an ulterior motive that hadn’t managed to previously identify, but the reassurance you offered by means of a small smile must have silenced his concerns, as he moved to unlatch the container and flip it open.

It was barely an hour after Crosshair had departed your establishment that you realized why the plastoid case that housed his scope had seemed vaguely familiar to you, and it was with a sense of excited urgency that you’d jogged to the back corner of your workshop and snatched the step stool from beside the broom. Tucked away on the top shelf of a precariously hung cupboard above the lens polisher and caked several decades worth of dust, the white box sat seemingly waiting for you. Countless times in the past had it been regarded as nothing but left over detritus from your uncle, unceremoniously pushed aside and ignored as you fervently looked for something else among the clutter, but today, as recognition had flared inside of you, it’s time in the spotlight had finally come.

The sniper’s abnormally long digits pulled the foreign scope from its foam mattress, hovering it in front of his tattooed eye while turning to orient himself toward the target sheets on the opposite wall.

“Hm… not bad actually,” he relented a moment later, turning back around and holding the scope out to his brother. “Tech, do you think you could modify the barrel attachment?”

So his name is Tech. The wordless introduction ensured another flush of your cheeks, and eager to repress the giddy smile that threatened to expose you, you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and ignored the brown–eyed man still passively gaping in your direction.

Crosshair shook the scope impatiently in the space between them, seemingly hoping the motion would shatter the muted reverie in which his brother was currently enthralled. “Tech? …Tech.”

“Um… yes,” Tech confirmed to your surprise, having collected the tool from his brother and agreeing to the task without even sparing it a glance. “Yes… I am able to… attach… myself.”

The chuckle that threatened to spill from your lips forced your gaze to the floor. The weathered and worn painted concrete beneath your boots was nothing but the epitome of lusterless and drossy, but in this moment of featherbrained awkwardness, you’d never seen a more interesting floor.

“Maker, since when can you not talk?” Crosshair hissed through clenched teeth.

Hot in the face and growing increasingly embarrassed by both the awkwardness of the conversation and the rapid emergence of this schoolgirl crush, you turned your attention back to your bag, thrusting your hand into its depths once again and pretending to dig around for something. Your peripheral vision saw Tech shift his goggles on his nose again, and immediately retract the datapad from his waist pouch.

You cleared your throat quietly before adjusting your bag on your shoulder and swinging your keyring noisily around your finger. Tech was blushing furiously and had turned his gaze to the screen of his small device, fingers dancing across the multicoloured buttons as if he’d injected rocket fuel directly into his knuckles. Crosshair, on the tail end of an elaborate eye roll, shook his head impatiently and huffed.

“You sure about this?” he asked you, tapping the lid of the plastoid box in his hands.

“Absolutely,” you answered without even the thought of hesitation. “It was just taking up very limited cupboard space so, if you want it, it’s yours.”

He nodded once, surveying your expression fleetingly once more before tucking the parcel under his arm. “Thanks again,” he mumbled, tossing you a casual three-fingered salute of acknowledgement before turning on his heel and heading the opposite way to the heavy, sliding door.

The sudden abandonment at the hands of his brother seemed to have roused Tech from his vigorous tango of typing, and his magnified eyes flickered to yours only briefly before darting towards the door. Mild amusement pulled another smile to your lips as discomfort erupted across his features; his jaw tensed, his posture straightened, and despite having spent the previous dozen minutes intermittently gawking at you, he now avoided your gaze.

“You better go,” you smirked, gesturing towards the disappearing head of silver hair. “It was nice to meet you. Good luck going… wherever it is that you’re going.”

“The ideology of ‘luck’ is illogical,” he intoned, raising a know-it-all finger into the air, the gesture somehow only intensifying your affection for him though he continued to evade eye contact, “but the sentiments are appreciated. And it was a pleasure gaining your acquaintance as well.”

His stooped frame made it barely three long paces before an urgent idea erupted in your mind. “Tech, wait!”

He turned his slumped shoulders back around to face you, mild curiosity etched into the small furrow in his brow as he lowered his datapad and held it limply at his side. “Keep this,” you offered, extending out the green microfiber cloth to him. “You need it more than I do.”

He stared, adorably flummoxed, at the fabric in your hand. “Keep it in one of your six hundred pockets,” you added with a goofy smirk and small gesture down to the series of cargo belts that seemingly adorned every inch of his tall frame. A mildly affronted expression ghosted across his face, but it was succeeded almost instantly by the same small smile that had sent your heart aflutter earlier. He took the cloth from you with a small nod, tucking it into the pouch perched just above a dangling spanner wrench on his hip, before muttering a quiet “goodbye” and continuing toward the door.

[mamawasatesttube]

IN LOVE with mentorverse au. its like the realization you get as a kid, finding out that your teacher doesn’t sleep in the school and does, in fact, have a home and a life outside of work. except the life your nerd ass teacher has is a rotating cast of CELEBRITIES AND SUPERHEROES. (or maybe a better analogy is realizing your favorite kooky college prof whose TAs all wish would adopt them has like 3 doctorates, a nobel prize, and a photo of him shaking hands with the president) either way, endlessly entertaining

—🌙

YES precisely!!! your cool but dork-ass mentor just casually hangs out with NIGHTWING and SUPERMAN??????? WHAT????

that really is the exact dynamic like you nailed it. bc tim is So competent and they do respect him but also they joke around with him and call him a dork-ass loser and he laughs at it. like there's just this level of oh, yeah, he's human, he's just some guy, yes he's really good at what he does but he's also just Some Guy. and then you turn around and he and impulse??!! are both just standing there staring unblinkingly at freaking supernova, until supernova throws up his hands and goes "oh my god FINE!" and leaves and then comes back in like 4 minutes with both of their favorite jamba juice orders. and you just go okay what the SHIT just happened--

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: APPLICATION ANXIETY (SEASON 3, EPISODE 3, PART 3)

Luke marches next door to confront Taylor about his malt shop scheme. I love Luke giving Taylor a good smack down. This episode is so chock full of verbal smack downs, I'm positively giddy.

He's not wrong you know. I fully believe there is a dark side to The Hollow. I wish to one day explore it in my unrated spinoff chock full of swearing and gritty realism and Naked Adult Jess titled...The Hollow.

How creepy is it that Taylor has surveillance cameras all over town? Also, I think I can be forgiven for wrongly assuming Taylor was going to show Luke a picture of Jess. He's chosen to use a couple of skateboarders as an example of moral decay in Stars Hollow when Jess and Shane were macking it against a tree in front of hundreds of people in broad daylight at a festival HE was overseeing. That's funny. I’m glad Taylor decided to leave Jess alone and turn a blind eye to the furious public groping. I'm thinking since Jess could use a couple of friends he should introduce himself to these skateboarders. I think he would fit in nicely. "You want to open up a soda shop next to the diner? Taylor, no, no, no. Every day from now until the end of my life, I am going to come in here saying "Taylor, no." When I die, I'm gonna be frozen next to Ted Williams, and when they find the cure to what I died of and unfreeze me, my first words will be "How's Ted?" followed closely by, "Taylor, no." Another glorious Nuclear Rant! Hey, I actually understood that Ted Williams reference! Umm. Let me have this article unpack it because this post is going to go wildly off script if I attempt to do it myself. Ted Williams' decapitated head was cryonically preserved in a Frankenstein-like plan to resurrect him in the future

Here's what Lorelai is reading (the magazine is dated August 23-30, 2002).

Lorelai informs Rory that she met with Charleston and he suggested Rory meet with a Harvard graduate for an alumni dinner...Aw crud, I remember that. That whole thing where Rory goes to a very awkward dinner with a bunch of intellectual dorks then she goes upstairs to find some girl putting on a bunny costume, and then the bunny gives her life advice about being yourself and not following the crowd or something.

Hey Dave.

Stop it AmyShermanPalladino. Just stop it. *grumbles and googles* Danny Davies Gans (October 25, 1956 – May 1, 2009) was an American singer, comedian and vocal impressionist. Gans was a performer on the Las Vegas Strip and the surrounding area, where he was billed as "The Man of Many Voices."  This was in reference to Lorelai impersonating Rory's voice on the phone.

And now, time for the alumni dinner.

She has a digital organizer. That's how we're supposed to know she's really rich.

Lorelai makes a joke about how she thinks the brother and sister in the family are having sex with each other. Welp. At dinner with the Harvard Dorks, Rory and Lorelai exchange looks when the father implores his supposedly incestuous children not to "Fight over the breast." What is happening? Mom and Dad won't talk about Carol (the bunny). The dad is kinda Richard-Esque. The next several minutes is just an excrutiangly long game of Harvard Dork Family Playing Trivia at the dinner table and would you look at that, Lorelai feels like a fish out of the water for not understanding anything they're referencing. HA, HA! NOW YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS!

Look at all the kooky crap on the walls. It looks like a TGI Friday's. And she's dressed as a 50's car hop. We already know this girl (Carol) is going to be so quirky. Rory thinks this chick is pretty keen and appreciates her taste in music. Spoiler alert: Rory does not make a new friend. Bunny Carol is Fun and Cute and Quirky and Not Like Other Girls and she intends to make it known that Rory is nothing more than a Harvard Sheep. Baaaa.

If only Rory could be a bunny/waitress like Carol and not stuck on The conveyor belt of Expectations, then she'd truly be happy. Well, who knows, since the journalism degree obviously didn't pan out, maybe at one point she did. There's a big hole in the Gilmore Girls timeline between 2007-2016. LOL @ Rory waiting tables or entertaining children for a living. Even April waited tables at Luke’s and she was like, 12 or something. I don’t remember. Anyway I made myself laugh just now. Rory: I've dreamt of Harvard since I was 4. Bunny Carol: LOL, a lot of little kids dream about that, right after meeting Harry Potter. This bunny is downright vicious.

Getting screen shots of that giant pencil to make jokes about how Rory is always holding oversized props that are vaguely penis-like is the only reason I ever venture into season 7.

I swear there was a fourth penis prop because I referenced that pencil not long ago and can’t find it now.

Take that, Crusty!

Sure, Lorelai is easy to please. Unless you date someone she doesn’t like, or you talk to your grandparents, or you invite your grandparents to a thing, or you take the advice of your grandparents, or you conspire with your grandparents to help your mother financially, or you consider a college that your grandparents suggest, or you consider other colleges besides the best ones, or your quarter on a string goes missing, or your friend gets you into a car accident, or you break up with Dean and suddenly there’s no one around to pleasure her sexually anymore… Otherwise Lorelai is super chill.

Things googled while watching gilmore girls: Ted Williams, Entertainment Weekly Gangs of New York, Danny Gans, How Much Did A PalmPilot Cost, Could A Palm Pilot Make Calls, Inflation Calculator (to calculate the price of a Palm Pilot in today's money, which could be between $400-$700)

[aajjks]

NWO!JK

“KAI!” you gasp as you watch everyone surround the crouching young man. you want to leave the bleachers and run to his aid but everyone is doing their best to help the poor guy.

“that nerd deserves to be disqualified. he totally did that on purpose!” yells one of your classmates.

“that ‘nerd’ is my friend and he’d never do something like that on purpose” you sass but your defense is useless. everyone is convinced that jungkook’s accident was on purpose but you know he’d never hurt someone intentionally. your sweet kooky? never….right?

“i-it’s okay” winces kai who blindly believes his teammates apologetic act.

“maybe you should sit out this game” says one of their teammates but kai insists that he’s okay. despite being pissed off, he’s impressed by jungkook’s strength. it all happened so fast and his precision was spot on—almost like he wanted to hit him with the black and white ball.

“sorry kai but i think you need to rest. sungwoo, you’re the goalie. i’ll check in with you after the first quarter of the game. daegu’s team should be here in 20 more minutes. i need everyone hydrated and ready in 10” says the coach who leaves the team under eunwoo’s supervision.

“jeon, you mind running inside and grabbing the cooler?” reluctantly, jungkook runs inside to grab the water cooler even grabbing bags of ice to keep the bottles cold. just as he’s about to head back out—

“well well well, if it isn’t the nerd”

young-jae and three other guys begin to surround jungkook. “i think it’s time to mess up that pretty face of yours and show morgan that you’re nothing but a dork who’s scared of his own shadow”

young-jae slaps the cooler from jungkook’s hands, tossing it down the hall. jungkook is surrounded and young-jae is sure the ‘nerd’ is probably scared, helpless. this is going to be so easy.

~🫧

Jungkook clenches his jaw as he hangs his head low so the bully and his friends can’t see the anger on his face. They have no idea who they’re dealing with right now.

But it’s just so fun to play the nerd, helpless guy. Jungkook loves every single moment of it because he always manages to gain your sympathy and.. Morgan’s attention.

“I-I let me go, please.. please.” Jungkook turns on his facade, as he tries to pick up the cooler. But looks like these guys are really asking for it because as soon as he crouches down on the ground to pick up the cooler, Young jae kicks it back.

Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to surpass his anger. But he’s still angry from before. Maybe he should just take it out on them

Should he? “WHAT HUH? NERD FIGHT BACK.” Jungkook groans lightly, fixing his posture as he stands back up. “Look I don’t want any trouble.” Jungkook sighs. But before he can actually go and pick up the cooler, he senses an attack incoming.

Something tingles inside his head and before the attack can land, Jungkook grabs Young jae’s flying fist. “O-Oh look please don’t hurt me alright?” Jungkook tightens his grip on his fist, twisting it a little.

“YOU LITTLE FUCK IT HURTS!”

“I’ll go now.”

Jungkook immediately runs to pick up the cooler, tightening his grip on the ice bags.

But then someone shoves him harshly.

THATS IT.

Jungkook doesn’t waste a single moment before kicking the attacker harshly, the force of the kick inhumanly strong as Young jae goes flying.

Jungkook sighs in disappointment, but there’s a sense of satisfaction too. But he has to keep hiding the secret of his strength.

“Whoops sorry…”

Jungkook quickly walks away from the hall, back into the ground.

“GUYS I GOT THE COOLER.”

[chasani]

Go on then, what are your koopaling/koopakid headcanons?

Aha

Ahaha

AHAHAHHAHAHAAGAHHAHAHAHAHA-

GASP

KOOPALINGS

Morton ->

stupid little dork

Asks what song it is when they're singing 'Happy Birthday to You' at a party

Memory loss, they gave him a note pad so he could write things down but he forgot where he put it

Enjoys wearing bows and is very open about it

Takes Wendy's bows

Big Hammer Tiny Brain

Smashes things he doesn't like/understand/want/know

Doesn't know how doors work

Somehow immune to poison if he doesn't know it's poison??

Iggy ->

Completely blind without his glasses

It's legally allowed to drive but drives anyway

Owns a bunch of blond wigs

Weird obsession with sticks and bones

Hangs out in Ludwig's room to listen to him play piano (whether he was invited or not)

Has at least 20 differently themed body pillows

Hatsune Miku binder

Ludwig ->

Does not sleep

Composer at day evil maniac scientist by night

Has a better eating habit than Kooky

I will fight you if you argue with me (you don't have to like it but just don't yell at me for it) but otherwise he's trans ftm and DEFINITELY bi

Steals mirrors from Wendy so he can admire himself

Makes Ramen in the toaster at 3 am while getting a sweet glass of Orange Milk (pineapple juice + milk + coffee + shots)

Dips bread in Egg Whites + Oreo crumbs and fries it (old habit never grew out of)

Wendy ->

Her room is FULL of coins and other gold things

Has two closets, one for clothes and the other for jewelry

Will scream if you take her bows

Somehow always has a mirror on hand

Drags the boys into her room so she can practice her makeup on them

Lemmy is willing to be makeup tester

Believes in bad luck but still dresses up for Friday the 13

PINK PINK PINK

you wouldn't guess it but her favorite songs are rock and country

Larry ->

Has 51 diseases and is banned from most public spaces

Would be a carnivore if the didn't force him to eat vegetables

Throws the baby penguin from the Mario game over the side of the ice cliff

Big fan of trains

His room is full of toy trains

Somehow knows how to drive a train

Owns + Pilots a helicopter, where did he get it from?

Lemmy ->

CLOWN BABY

wanted in 50 states (and counting)

states like solid, liquid, and gas

collect weird miscellaneous objects in hopes he could use it for a performance

Probably pan

Constantly makes jokes about liking pans because he's pan

Once he was caught kissing a pan

Once found biting a pan by the handle and running around on all fours at 3 am

Roy ->

Big man

Acts all tough but also loves bows

Finger paints

Eats raw eggs

KOOPAKIDS

Big Mouth ->

dumb baby

Tries to be tough but just ends up being cute

Memory loss

Eats raw eggs as a snack

Doesn't know you have to cook certain foods

Bully ->

never takes off his shades

Wears pink, blue, and white bows (in no particular order ;])

Own at LEAST 20 different pairs of glasses and counting

Eats like 30 pounds of food a day

Cheatsy ->

trains

trans

trains

Kooky Von Koopa ->

Complete Smart-Ack Maniac

Does not sleep (except for when he completely PASSES OUT from exhaustion in which it's usually day)

Only eats junk food like candy and fried stuff

does not shower or brush his hair you have to throw him into a lake with piranhas to get him clean

Stupidly smart, mad scientist that lives in a basement making monsters

Does a little composing here and there

Knows all of Beethoven's Symphonys + Rush E from heart

Knows at least 25 different languages and counting, already multi bilingual at 1 month old (smart baby)

Probably trans and Agender or smth idk I'm not a mad scientist

Kootie Pie ->

GIRLY GIRL

GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS

won't admit it but she's a fan of clowns

Literally hates all boys (wouldn't blame her, growing up in an all boy house)

Would be friends with the princess if they didn't try to kidnap her all the time

Ringsssss

Hip ->

Clown baby

can cry at a frequency only dogs can hear

will throw his ball at you if you even dare disagree with him

Bites

Probably has autism idk I'm not a koopa

Hop ->

blind without the glasses

Will eat raw meat if you give it to him un cooked

Do not give him raw meat

He will scream if you give him food before dessert

Never give him food before dessert

[neitherabaron]

which other dimension 20 seasons have you watched? 👀

Basically what’s available for free, so that would be the first seasons of Fantasy High and The Unsleeping City, and Escape from the Bloodkeep (my fav so far.) Crown of Candy was what made me take the plunge on Dropout in the end. I’m not sure every season is gonna be my cup of tea, and I’m gonna pick and choose, but what I’ve seen is amazing!

What I will say is I’m an even bigger fan of Murph’s NADDPOD, which is easier for me to have on in the background when I’m working. D20 kind of demands my undivided attention, which I can’t always give.

It’s weird, I’ve been a fan of Collegehumor since 2007 but this is my first time looking at the Dropout content. I guess I wouldn’t stand by some of their stuff from those early years as they sometimes did bits that are…not ok (but from what I’ve seen, the cast from that era also don’t stand by many of those jokes, which is nice).

But it’s been interesting to see Collegehumor evolve from essentially a group of dorks with uneven acting skills (said with affection, and they improved very quickly) telling jokes about bongs and essay crises, into a place where aspiring young comics could develop their writing and performing skills on the way towards something bigger, into a destination in itself for pretty accomplished and established comedians making something new in a post-traditional-tv world, into insolvency, and now into a wildly improbable Dungeons & Dragons and kooky panel show powerhouse.

And with that, the gradually evolving cast all along the way. People leave, people arrive. Sometimes people who left come back. It’s a nice constant. I’m glad they found a way to keep it running.

[kitteryconner]

I need a Wednesday + Artemis Fowl Friendship or rivalry so bad. And I don’t mean that bullshit Disney stuff. I mean; they are both clearly highly disciplined and a little bit high horsed individuals, but bet your ass they will talk shit on society and . You can’t tell me Artemis isn’t good at playing the straight man one moment and being kooky the next. OR LIKE KOOKY SUBTEXT. He has an alias named F. Roy Dean Schlippe. FRUADIAN SLIP. Mans is a fucking punny dork. imagine a “what are you in for” Wednesday “Attempted murder, the sad part is that I failed.“ Artemis “Apparently it’s “morally corrupt” to keep someone hostage and use them to extort gold from fairies. I’m shocked they didn’t see it coming sooner,“ idk that’s so funny to me

[xcziel]

b*t*s recognition for older, western, beginners (me): (pls ignore if you are experienced army this is for funsies only) (or add more, or corrections, or whatever, i can't tell you what to do lol)

kim namjoon (rm) hyung-line: tall, rapper, perfect english, brainy smart, leader: so often mc-ing and/or wrangling bag of catsmembers, longsuffering, sarcastic and funny, big boy, accidental breaker-of-things

kim seokjin (jin) hyung-line: also tall, singer, princely handsome, fashion plate, actor, oldest but only pulls the card occasionally, from money, suave but also dork, well-traveled since childhood *enlisted in december 2022

min yoongi (suga, agustd) hyung-line: short, rapper, has the producer/songwriter/rapping archetype going for him, mostly in black off-duty, pretty cat man, introvert, deep speaking voice, lil bit of a godfather vibe but tiny cute godfather?, stealth fond and affectionate (yes my bias shhh)

jung hoseok (hobi, j-hope) hyung-line: medium height tier, dancer & rapper, distinctive high cheekbones and sunshine smile, laughs a lot but has that dance practice stern face when he's not joking, often indulgent wine aunt vibes, actual pre-debut street cred like rm and suga *just recently went for enlistment

kim taehyung (v) maknae line: shorter but not short, singer: has a husky breathy register out of several modes, it boy and model, princess mode needs care and attention, poor boy made good, emotional (actually they all cry a lot if you go by videos)

jeon junkook (jk, kookie) maknae line: medium tall, main singer: often a clear r&b flavored tenor, "the one with the tattoos" (right hand and full sleeve most visible) and the calvin klein ad, lip-piercing as well now i believe, strong, extremely hip, excitable, good at everything, the youngest and Baby

park jimin (jimin) maknae line: technically shortest, singer: clear high tenor, trained dancer like *whoa*, flirt, smooth and stylish, pretty as a personality trait, maknae gremlin but with hyung maturity (caretaker), abs, falls off chairs (and only chairs? otherwise immune to gravity)

- these are some busy, busy elite-caliber performers at the very top of the game and i definitely am in awe. like the guys who technically aren't "dancers" in the group are still leagues above many regular official 'lead dancers' in skill - as a whole they are just functioning on another level and it is impressive. i understand army a lot more now

[junkofjoe]

How many of you dorked out hotties in the same room...even the kooky romanian lol

[downbytheouterbanks]

A day has not passed since the obx season two announcement that I haven’t thought about the video Austin posted with Drew 😌

[promisenolies]

I'M SERIOUSLY DEAD OVER THIS.

I laughed so freaking loud the first dozen times I saw this... OMG it kills me.