#leading cargo companies

[ryes-brownies08]

hi luv! im craving for a fluffy date of sungchan x male reader who are so down bad for each other! can u write it for me pls??

ily bby, xo [sungchan x male reader]

“God,” Sungchan chuckled, deep in conversation with the guy he’d realised he loved all too dearly. “You’re a hot mess.” “You’re odd as fuck, too.” M/n laughed, the boys drowning in one another’s laughter.

˙⋆✮ genre: FLUFF ˙⋆✮ roles: top! sungchan, bttm! mreader ˙⋆✮ word count: 3.7k words

Synopsis: Sungchan and M/n have been attracted to each other for a while, and now that they're finally on a date, they begin to realise how much they truly like each other. Sungchans composed masculinity paired harmoniously with M/n's adaptable friendliness, and the two go wherever life takes them as they thoroughly enjoy one anothers company on a late night date.

WARNINGS + TAGS: affection, dating, kinda sappy, swearing, insensitive at times, sunchan loves soccer!!, high school, kissing, holding hands, depictions of any irl character here does not reflect who they are irl this work is purely fictional, etc

M/n and Sungchan walked out of the shopping center hand in hand, the sound of laughter and the warmth of a whole heart following them. M/n cradled a pastel pinkish-blue soccer ball in his arm, a prize he won from a claw machine, whilst Sungchan gracefully nibbled on a cupcake besides him, colorful sprinkles occasionally getting stuck to his lips.

“That’s why I don’t go to arcades anymore. I had no idea, what was I supposed to do?” M/n chuckled, playfully swinging Sungchans arms to the same rhythm of his head as it gently bounced side to side. Sungchan smiled as M/n lead the conversation, purely happy to listen to him talk.

“That’s crazy. I wouldn’t have seen you at school for a century, huh?” Sungchan responded restfully, turning to look at his date. As he did, M/n took note of Sungchan's kind, deep-set almond eyes that he loved ever so, watching as his lips spread to either side of his face in an elegant, observant smile.

“Realistically, no.” M/n laughed, returning his gaze to stare at the ground as they walked, which was a little habit of his that Sungchan loved.

The two had a crush on each other for a while. At school, neither M/n nor Sungchan sat with the same group of people, but just so they could talk to each other, interacted with each other’s respective friend groups. M/n was an individual who only showed his liveliness to people he trusted, and the athletic Sungchan was a part of a popular but not impolite friend group.

Despite their differences, their attraction to each other was strong. So they took a chance, and before they knew it, became a thing.

The two of them discovered they both had a liking for similar things, although their customary penchants could sometimes be quite different. But that’s just what made them all the more beautiful.

For their date tonight, they set out to wander a shopping centre together until the sky turned a brooding black, and a million stars floated brilliantly in its embrace; they both loved the serenity of the night.

As the two walked out the front gate of the shopping center, they were hit with the pleasantly cold breeze of the night. The outside was surrounded by floral bushes and majestic trees, and the orange lighting from above created a vibey, nocturnal atmosphere as they walked upon the cobblestone pathway. Sungchan was feeling the cold a bit more than he was prepared for, wearing only a white tee shirt that was tucked into his pair of blue denims. M/n, wearing a brown striped sweater and cargo pants, noticed and decided to offer his long beige coat to Sungchan.

“You’re gonna become paler than you already are,” M/n said, nudging at Sungchan’s shoulders as he looked up at him. “Take this back. I’m overheating anyways.”

“Are you sure?” Sungchan asked. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Can’t have you freezing, can I?.” M/n smiled softly, looking up at his date. M/n took pride in his height of 5’10, but Sungchan made M/n feel short, standing at 6’1.

“M/n, I mean it,” Sungchan said, despite the cold noticeably getting to him. “You don’t have to-”

“Sung.” M/n interrupted, eyebrows raised in a way that read ‘don’t try me, my precious loser.’

“Alright, my bad.” Sungchan laughed. “Never been terrorized to wear a coat before.” He muttered, knowing M/n would hear. M/n didn’t care though, softly smiling as he admired the man infront of him.

Sungchan’s face was attractively long and oval-shaped, his jawline clean but not aggressively sharp, alongside a bigger and structured nose that rested above relatively full and kissable lips. But despite the sheer perfection of his visual, that wasn’t what M/n was necessarily looking at.

M/n was rather entranced by the way Sungchans biceps flexed with every movement, his chest straining against his white tee, leaving little to the imagination. But what M/n was most hypnotized by, was how Sungchan focused intensely on whatever he had in his arms, in this case, the coat. His movements were so deliberate and calculated, ensuring the coat was put on smoothly, and M/n couldn’t help but take it out of all appropriate context. M/n mentally slapped himself, not wanting to ruin this innocent date; he was simply taking notes for the future. A heat began rising in his cheeks. One day, he would be the thing Sungchan would examine every corner of, and there wouldn’t be any clothes to-

“M/n?” Sungchan called out, snapping M/n out of his trance.

“Y-Yeah? Sorry, zoned out.” M/n responded, chuckling sheepishly.

“Are you cold? Your cheeks and nose are all reddened up.” Sungchan asked. Fuck, already? M/n didn’t expect the heat to show through his (S/c) skin that quickly.

“Really?” M/n asked, using his hands to feel the temperature of his face. It didn’t feel so hot, so he wondered how prominent the blush was for Sungchan to have noticed it. All M/n really felt was a slight stubble, which he needed to shave before it became anything noticeable. “Hold on…” M/n reached for his phone, trying to visually examine the degree of redness of his face.

“Wait, don’t move.” Sungchan spoke softly, hyperfixated on M/n’s face as he began stepping closer to him. M/n remained still, like he was asked to.

M/n was slightly unnerved as he observed Sungchan gently touching up his hair. It made M/n wonder if he had something on his face. Was it a cut? Or a bug? M/n became a bit worried. Then, he noticed as Sungchan's hyperfocused face slowly morphed into an enamoured expression. A leafy rustling crinkled against M/n’s ears, and when he opened up his camera, M/n saw that there wasn’t, infact, any blush.

Instead, there was a flower that Sungchan had placed in the nook of M/n’s ear. M/n let out an amused sigh, realising he was on edge for nothing, but he did make sure to offer Sungchan a look of playful indignance.

“What? You look cute. I had to.” He smiled, eyes forming half-cresents as his lips spread to either side of his face, his expression too loveable to refuse.

“You had me so confused; I was scared.” M/n said, chuckling as the two began to walk again.

“You’re scared of roses?” Sungchan smiled, as calmly mischievous as only he could be.

“Wha- No?- Well, you picked it from a random bush!” M/n protested.

“All roses come from bushes, my love.” Sungchan responded. His adaptable composure was something M/n loved, unless he was getting clocked.

Before long, the two had been walking together for an unknowable amount of time, their harmonious company making time go by only too quickly. The roads were empty, the only sound being the laughter of the two, or the rustling of the nearby trees every now and then.

“God,” Sungchan chuckled, deep in conversation with the guy he’d realised he loved all too dearly. “You’re a hot mess.”

“You’re odd as fuck, too.” M/n laughed, the boys drowning in one another’s laughter. “Remember when we had biology, and you stood like an NPC and zoned the fuck out?” M/n spoke in between chuckles, too busy cracking up at the memory.

“Oh my god, shut up..!” Sungchan cringed at the memory, grinning ear to ear and shaking his head in regret.

“The teacher couldn’t even…” M/n trailed off, wheezing. The thought was just so funny.

Everyone got up to go to their tables and conduct an experiment, whilst Sungchan had a brainfart, and just stood there, zoned out in the middle of the class. The teacher tried to ask what was wrong, but he was too caught up in his head to respond. Not only was it awkward, it was pindrop silent. It took a few minutes for him to snap out of his trance, and he ran to his table, face reddened like a tomato through his pale skin. His group of boys didn’t let him live that one down, and invited M/n and his group to joke about it once they caught onto the fact that Sungchan liked him.

Sungchan gave M/n a playful nudge, watching as he almost stumbled in the darkness of the night, eventually needing to pause there and take a break from laughing his ass off.

As M/n fumbled, the pinkish blue soccer ball fell out of his hands, rolling over to a relatively tall black fence. Beyond it was an open soccer field, illuminated by a single large sports floodlight in the far corner. M/n picked up the ball, and turned to see Sungchan, who gasped and became struck with excitement. This was one of the many sides to Sungchan’s generally reserved personality that M/n was eager to explore. His 4D personality was a beautiful, well-crafted mystery that M/n was excited to unveil.

“Oh my god! M/n, we have to get in!” Sungchan leaned against the moderately tall fence, eyes wide in a boyish eagerness.

“What? We can’t go in there, it’s closed!” M/n replied.

"Well, no one's gonna catch us." Sungchan said.

"They might." M/n suggested.

Between the two, neither were troublesome, even at school, but Sungchan was a likeable rule-breaker. He and his friends would always fuck around every now and then, and though they didn't do anything too extreme, you could still roll your eyes at it.

"Not at 8:37pm in the night!" Sungchan said, turning to M/n as his eyes became glossy and his eyebrows were knit together in a pleading expression. He was no longer asking for permission. He placed a foot against the black plastic fence, rising above the ground before throwing the other leg over it so that he was sitting on top of it. He looked back down to M/n, who hadn't moved yet.

"C'mon, M/n! It'll be fun." He said, patting the top of the fence as his eyebrows bucked upwards, daring M/n to come. Remembering Sungchan's love for soccer, M/n couldn't say no. He'd just have to get dragged into trouble again and hope he'd never get caught. Sungchan extended a hand, as he knew M/n wasn't a daredevil (or rather that M/n was lame and couldn't even climb a fence).

With a yelp, M/n hesitantly set a foot on the fence, using the pull of Sungchan's arm as an advantageous leverage. M/n tried to distract himself from the rebellious nature of the moment by focusing on Sungchan's strong arms, and how they moved him around so easily. Then again, M/n had to ensure he didn't turn this cute little date into something not so appropriate.

"Good boy." Sungchan teased, causing M/n to raise a clenched fist as an empty threat. With a flinch and a hitched laugh, Sungchan jumped off the fence and landed with a thud in an athletic, graceful squat.

M/n followed after, thumping on the floor disgracefully despite using the fence as a means to come down, slipping and falling on his side.

"Cute." Sungchan remarked. M/n didn't know what was so cute about that, though; seeing the person you'd potentially want to love not be able to climb. If anything, it was a sign that M/n would suck in an apocalypse, presumably being the first to die unless Sungchan came to save him.

M/n didn't know how, but Sungchan already had the ball, doing a cool little trick where he kicked it upwards and used his one leg to keep it from touching the floor. He clearly looked like a natural.

When M/n caught up to him, he smiled at him wholeheartedly. It was clear he loved M/n and appreciated the gesture to do this despite not wanting to. "What's up, cutie?" He spoke, his voice flattering M/n and surely evoking an upcoming blush.

Deflecting, M/n interjected. "So, am I just gonna sit on the bleachers and watch you play?"

"Well, you don't have to watch if you're bored. You can use your phone." Sungchan shrugged.

"Hey, don't be ridiculous. I'll watch you. This is your chance to impress me." M/n smiled, taking the ball from Sungchan's embrace.

It was clear that Sungchan preferred if M/n watched, because like a child, his mouth grew into a excited smile, eyes sparking with possibility. "Yeah..?" He spoke somewhat breathily.

"Yeah! Matter of fact..." M/n said, holding the ball over his head with intents to throw it. Not even a split-second into the movement, Sungchan already got ready, eyes wide and creasing with glee as his lips spread open in an exhilarated smile. When M/n tossed it in a measly, unathletic throw despites his best efforts, Sungchan began to sprint right after it, racing towards the goal with a laser-focus.

"Go Kylie, go! You're doing great, sweetie!" M/n yelled out, and heard Sungchan chuckling from the distance as he played.

M/n took a seat on the bleachers, and it was just incredible to see Sungchan dominate the open fields as he showed off his skills, doing cute little tricks where he bounced the ball between his legs or did an airborne kick. It was impressive and M/n realised that he'd wanted to see him play more often.

M/n watched as Sungchan darted around the goal with the ball, a talent M/n hadn't really seen in full bloom before. He knew he had an interest for soccer and sport, but didn't realise how proficient he actually was; it was incredible. The way he chased the ball with not only precision and skill, but a burning sense of passion. This was where Sungchan wanted to be at, and his body was aligned perfectly with his heart in that very moment.

After a few goals and incredible tricks, Sungchan looked to M/n, catching a breath as he smiled warmly, allbeit exasperatedly. M/n smiled at him back. "You're doing great, sweetie!" He yelled out, referencing that Kylie Jenner meme again, causing Sungchan to hunch over, using his knees for support as he laughed.

"Why don't you come and play?" Sungchan asked from the distance.

"Me? Girl, I can't play for shit." M/n chuckled, yelling back.

"I'll go easy on you!" Sungchan laughed, holding his arms out in invitation.

"Promise?" M/n said, offering it a bit of thought before cautiously coming down from his seat on the bleachers.

"I promise." Sungchan said, hand on either one of his hips as he waited for M/n. He raised a hand out, opening and clasping it to indicate that he wanted M/n to come and play.

M/n walked down, Sungchan looking at him with a loving gaze. It was clear to M/n that Sungchan ended up enjoying this moment alot, appreciating what M/n was doing for him. That was a good thing; perfect, actually.

"Alright, so what am I doing?" M/n asked, looking at his date with a somewhat nervous, but nevertheless happy smile.

"You just go stand near the goal, and I'll try to score." Sungchan responded.

"I'll never win that! You're too good!" M/n chuckled, gasping indignantly.

"I'll go easy. You can do it, trust me." Sungchan said, smiling. "Why don't I show you?" He said, stepping away from the goal with his ball.

"You ready?" He called out after maintaining a sizeable distance. M/n gave him a sheepish nod in return. Without as much impact as he was using previously, Sungchan kicked the ball so that it began rolling over to M/n and he had a moment to intercept. M/n stepped forward to connect his feet to the ball, stopping it in it's tracks. It wasn't impressive at all, but M/n was thoroughly impressed with himself.

"Just like that!" Sungchan called out, smiling. "Now pass it back, and I'll show you some real skills."

"Go ahead. I'm the soccer baddie himself. Complete with a BBL." M/n said, leaning on one hip in an attempt to serve cunt, eliciting a laugh from Sungchan.

"C'mon, don't change yourself. Besides, your ass is a skinny queen." Sungchan spoke back, cringing at the latter part of his sentence. "Was that good or should I just stick to my own slang'?"

M/n chuckled. Sungchan had pretty boyish, masculine humour compared to M/n's somewhat more feminine persona, which was another difference between the two that he loved. It went to prove that there was no set standard for a relationship of any kind. "Not bad; you slayed, or as you would call it, cooked."

"Well, I'll do both in a second. Think fast!" Sungchan said, his foot taking off from the ground as he struck the ball with fury, M/n ducking helplessly as it hit the net of the goal behind him.

"Hey, not fair!" M/n chuckled, the two entangled in a lighthearted moment of wholeheartedness. He kicked the ball back, and Sungchan began to control it with his swift feet. He was like a rabbit, the way he hopped and ran with the ball, so M/n would have to become the fox.

"Catch this!" Sungchan took another shot, but ended up hitting the top bar of the goal, watching as it bounced back.

"Ha!" M/n yelled in defiance as he held his hands out in an 'L' shape.

"You got lucky, just wait!" Sungchan huffed, fog forming with every breath out of his mouth against the cold air.

This little adventure of the theirs together felt wistfully short, but at the same time pleasantly elongated, and neither of them wanted it to end. Sungchan was absolutely besting the hell out of M/n, but M/n was determined to show him who was boss. Just cause M/n wasn't athletic, didn't mean he had to let that define him at all (it did, M/n just wanted to look remotely impressive for Sungchan).

A familiar thud echoed through the field as Sungchan kicked the pinkish-blue ball, a symbol of M/n's potential defeat against Sungchan if nothing was done. The ball was calling out to M/n, daring him to block it; that very thud was an indicator that M/n had the choice to fight or fly, to defend his point or succumb to Sungchan's reign of ferocity.

M/n squatted, his body loose and anticipating, ready for the move as the ball approached. And as if everything happened in slow motion, the ball flew towards the corner of the net, sure to have hit it; but not if M/n had anything to say about it.

He sprung to the side, both arms reaching outwards as if to create a great iron wall, impenetrable by a mere pastel ball, and unphased against Sungchan's power. With a moist thump, the ball ricocheted off from his hands, sent away in a thrust of humiliation and defeat, rolling over as it grovelled pitifully at the feet of Sungchan. It surrendered, it's halt acting as a silent proclamation of defeat against M/n's defence. The ball was powerless. M/n had won.

He had won! Sungchan raised his arms up, whooping for his date. "Fuck yeah! Awesome, M/n!"

M/n gasped, picking himself up off the ground. It took him a second, but he began to smile and laugh too. Sungchan ran towards him, picking him up and spinning him around, causing M/n to let out a giddy yelp. M/n felt Sungchan's strong arms around his waist, his honest smile at even M/n's tunnel vision victory a silent message that he'd support him forever. M/n felt a thrill through his chest, both from the cold air and the fear of being off the ground. But there was something else, too.

Love. An intense love for Sungchan.

Eventually, Sungchan set him down, and the two were caught lost in each other's eyes, despite panting and beginning to sweat. Sungchan stared deep into M/n's (E/c) eyes as they looked up to him with a docile, amiable light, and found himself marvelling at how the floodlight's shine subtly reflected in his alluring (S/c) skin. M/n returned the look to Sungchan, looking up at the youthful yet sophisticatedly elegant man before him, his gaze towards M/n as loving as it was intense.

Without a word, before the two knew it, they leaned in closer and closer, until their lips met in a loving, warm kiss. The soft sound of smooching englufed either of the two, as their hearts began to beat to a harmonious rhythm. This was their first kiss ever, and they wanted it bad for a while now. Sungchan's hands grasped M/n's waist in a respectful, but affectionate manner, as M/n put his hands on Sungchan's shoulders, holding him close.

Maybe the kiss was too sudden, maybe they were just acting out of teenage impulse. But, boy, did it feel electric.

Etiquette and time wasn't a consideration to the two in that moment; they were beyond that. Their hearts aligned in a way that would make the stars in the night sky shine eternally brighter.

When they parted, they took a moment to open their eyes, their faces still only inches apart. Fog escaped at their lips given the temperature of the night, and it's as if they were breathing each other in as they slowly broke into two soft smiles.

"M/n. I think I really like you." Sungchan spoke in a low, vulnerable, but nevertheless genuine tone.

"Sung... I don't know what to say..." M/n blushed, his eyes deerlike as they looked up at him, all flustered. He felt the same, and Sungchan knew it. He just got shy.

"Whatever feels right, baby." Sungchan smiled warmly, making sure not to rush him.

"Well, I think I like you too. A lot." M/n said, trying to overcome his nerves. "And I think that I really like it when you call me baby." He said softly, as his heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest.

Sungchan chuckled, the breath from his nose tickling M/n's cheeks. "You're so cute when you're shy." He noted, a blush rising to his own face.

"Aw, Sung.." M/n smacked his lips, getting shyer. There was a comfortable silence as Sungchan examined M/n, who looked away in diffidence.

"Can I... kiss you again?" He asked, his voice low and loving.

M/n turned his head back to face him slowly, a full-fledged blush now on his face. Sungchan noticed how the flower was still there on the side of M/n's head, the same shade of red M/n's nose and cheeks were.

M/n tried to respond, but he couldn't, and his mouth just hung ajar. It was so cute to Sungchan. M/n let out a chuckle, embarrassed at himself. Instead, he offered an eager nod, before speaking under his breath, almost inaudibly. "Yes.."

Sungchan smiled softly, and didn't waste a second after that, meeting M/n's soft lips in a pleasant moment of warmth and love.

The two stood like that for a bit, just melting into each other. After today, was there really anything else they needed?

[zvaigzdelasas]

Activists are urging Moroccan port officials to try to block ships carrying military cargo to Israel, much like Spain did last year. Protests often target Danish shipping company Maersk, which helps transport components used to make Lockheed Martin’s F-35 as part of the U.S. Defense Department’s Security Cooperative Participant Program that facilitates weapons sales to allies including Israel.[...]

Morocco is one of four countries that normalized ties with Israel in 2020. That year, Donald Trump brokered the Abraham Accords, which offered incentives for Arab states to establish diplomatic relations with Israel even as its peace talks with Palestinians remained stalled. The deal delivered something Moroccan diplomats had chased for years: U.S. support for Morocco’s claims over the disputed Western Sahara. But its cost — growing public resentment toward normalization — has ballooned throughout the Israel-Hamas war.

“I’ve rarely seen such a chasm between public opinion and the monarchy. What the power elites are doing goes completely against what the Moroccan people want,” said Aboubakr Jamai, dean of the Madrid Center at the American College of the Mediterranean.[...]

Port protests gained momentum last month when Morocco’s largest labor union backed the call to block the two ships, and dozens of religious scholars and preachers, many affiliated with the anti-monarchy Islamist movement Al Adl wal Ihsan, issued an edict with a similar message.

While not officially allowed to participate in politics, Al Adl wal Ihsan has mobilized large crowds and helped lead pro-Palestinian activism throughout the Israel-Hamas war, drawing in young people who feel official parties don’t speak to them. On a recent Friday, the group said Moroccans took part in 110 demonstrations across 66 cities in support of Palestinians in Gaza.[...]

The Islamist Justice and Development Party, which once backed normalization with Israel while in power, recently invited senior Hamas officials to its congress in Rabat. However, the officials were unable to obtain visas to enter Morocco.

4 May 25

[genshin-impact-updates]

Stalwart Strider

"He sees and hears everything, as if he had the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox, like some kind of mythical beast. Fighting tooth and nail, he drove away bandits and ruffians like devils with all the auspicious momentum of the suanni."

— A plaque of gratitude received by the Sword and Strongbox Secure Transport Agency from a merchant whose caravan was safely escorted by Gaming

◆ Name: Gaming

◆ Title: Leonine Vanguard

◆ "Sword and Strongbox" Transport Guard

◆ Vision: Pyro

◆ Constellation: Leo Expergiscens

If you happen to hear the sound of drums and gongs as you're walking through the streets of Liyue Harbor, let your ears lead the way. With a bit of luck, you might just be fortunate enough to witness a performance of Gaming's remarkable Wushou Dance.

When he puts on his mask, he shakes his head and blinks like a waking beast. The vast array of emotions he conjures up, the unpredictable twists and turns... Following his every move with rapture, the audience can't help but cheer and applaud.

"Thank you for your support, everyone! And remember, if someone you know's thinking of booking a Wushou Dance, don't forget to recommend the 'Mighty Mythical Beasts'!"

It's just a shame that, more often than not, he receives nothing but applause in return. But Gaming doesn't let this get to him — he laughs it off, saying that the audience's attention is all the recognition he needs.

Once the crowd has dispersed and his mask is off, Gaming swiftly returns to being a "guard" and thinking of work matters once more: How many cargo shipments still need delivering? Which clients does he need to escort? And so on...

Usually, when there's nothing urgent on, he heads to Xinyue Kiosk to while away the time with some dim sum — a pot of tea, a selection of bite-sized nibbles, and leisurely chatter in the company of good friends.

As a guard, the task of escorting goods from Yilong Wharf to Liyue Harbor couldn't be easier for Gaming. But as the head of the "Mighty Mythical Beasts," his dream of making the Wushou Dance a regular occurrence in Liyue Harbor still has a long, long road ahead of it...

So in the meantime, why not sit and enjoy another cup of tea?

[chamomiletealeaf]

Warnings: afab! fem reader, spanking, dacryphilia, squirting, hair pulling, tiny bit of degredation? Bratty reader

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, Captain?”

You cross your arms and look up at Price during a briefing, standing as if you were taller than him. You had strongly disagreed with a decision he made for a future mission and the rest of the Task Force was staring at you in awe of your sudden assertiveness and attitude towards your superior.

He wanted to go in to take down the Shadow Company and rip them apart from the inside out, sending you in first as bait, and you had argued that would be too obvious something was up. You proposed infiltration would be better, stealthier, and you would go in first and have Gaz lead you around base through the cams until safe for the others to sneak in too.

But Price was not having it with your disagreement and sassy attitude like a spoiled teenager arguing with her dad for not getting something she wants.

“I’m not letting you go in with risk of being caught and killed. Graves is a narcissist, going against him is dangerous. Much easier to pretend you come in peace, alone. It would boost his damned ego.” Price says.

“He’s not fucking stupid. He fooled us all. Only someone as equally dense as him would think that’s a good plan.” You snap back at him.

The 141 stare at you, scared for what Price is gonna say next. His eyebrows raise in disbelief at your insult, and he steps closer, slowly and carefully to you.

“Watch your tongue soldier.” He growls at you through clenched teeth.

And that’s how you got here, looking up at him asking what he’s gonna do about it.

He then grabs you by the back of your neck, spinning you around and pushing you towards the door which he slams open with his free palm, leaving the rest of the team watching in shock at what the hell just happened, and even more so the cliffhanger of not knowing what is going to happen.

Price shoves you into his office, slamming the door behind him and pushing you towards his desk, stumbling over your feet.

“Gonna teach you some fucking manners. What the fuck’s runnin’ through that stubborn little mind of yours that’s got you thinkin’ you can talk to me that way?” He says, caging you in between him and the desk making you lean back while he places his palms on either side of you. His voice dripping with anger.

You don’t break and continue your arguing with him.

“Well maybe if you talked to me before making me the center of some bullshit plan then I’d have some respect for your decisions.” You spit back at him.

He spins you around and slams you against the desk, pressing your cheek into the cold wood of it while your palms fly up onto the desk to catch yourself.

He leans in to your ear, pressing his body flush against yours, one hand in your hair pressing your face into the surface of the desk and another between your shoulder blades to keep you steady.

“Yeah? Well maybe if you weren’t such a fucking brat and learned to watch that pretty little mouth of yours I wouldn’t have to do this would I? But this is what you wanted, wasn’t it.” He whispers darkly into your ear, and you feel yourself throbbing at the way he’s manhandling you and saying such dirty things to you.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamed of this, but you can’t let him know that. No, you were stubborn, you couldn’t let him win that easily.

“Fuck you.” You say through your smushed cheeks, and Price laughs.

“Yeah, bet you wanted that too.” He says amused.

“Gonna teach you a real good fuckin’ lesson yeah? Maybe you’ll learn when to shut your fuckin’ mouth.” He says as he yanks you up by your hair and you hiss.

He pulls you with him behind his desk and he sits in his chair, pulling you down with him and you fall over his lap.

“Yeah that’s it. Over my lap.”

You whine at his roughness and the pain from pulling your hair, still trying to process what’s happening.

Then, Price’s hand yanks your cargos down, leaving you in a cute lacy thong.

“Oh sweetheart, this what you’ve been hidin’ under all this?” He chuckles villainously. “Wonder if what you got under that shirt matches.” He smirks, and all you can do is whine in shock of what he’s doing to you, but fuck did you love every second of it.

His amused tone then turns angry again as he pulls you up by your hair again, forcing you to crane your neck back to look at him, hands gripping his thigh.

“Gonna spank this pretty little ass fuckin’ raw until you apologize to me.” He says, then shoved your head back down to fall over his thigh.

He rubs a hand over your ass, massaging your cheeks and then he lifts his hand up, and forcefully brings it back down.

Smack

The sound of his palm slapping your skin echoes in the small room of his office, and you yelp at the force of it. Price laughs again at your submissiveness.

“Not so chatty now are you?” He says as he lifts his hand back up and you squeeze your eyes shut in preparation of the next spank.

Smack

Price keeps spanking your ass harder and faster until it’s red with his handprint branded onto your ass cheeks, nothing but the sound of your whimpers, the slapping of skin, and his dirty words filling the room. You refuse to give him the apology he wants both because of your stubborn, bratty self, but also because this was making you soak your panties like you never have before. This was a dream come true having your Captain manhandle you and punish you the way you deserved for being so smart-mouthed with him.

“This is what you get, when you fuckin’ smack. backtalk smack. me smack. you get spanked smack. Like you deserve smack. You fucking smack. Little minx.”Smack.

Price delivers three more fast and hard spanks to your ass until he hears you sniffle.

Your head is hanging down over his knee so he can’t see the tears rolling down your cheeks from the pain of Price’s hand smacking your ass repeatedly.

“Aww sweetheart.” He says before he laughs to himself.

“Are those tears? What, you gonna cry from a few little spanks to this pretty little ass?” He asks in mock sympathy with a smirk on his face.

You sniffle again and whimper not answering him, still hiding your face.

He tugs your hair up to see your tear stained pouty face.

“Aww those are tears.” He fakes a frown, mocking your expression.

“You can make this all stop if you just say you’re sorry love.”

“Mm mm” you shake your head, a few more tears escaping your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, making him chuckle darkly again.

“You know.” He says as his hand creeps its way down to your clothed pussy, rubbing right where you were practically gushing out of your thong all over the both of your thighs.

“If you weren’t so wet, or rubbing your little clit all over my knee, I’d believe you didn’t want this to stop from your stubbornness. But I think you like getting spanked don’t you sweetheart?”

You just whine in response and rub your pussy over his knee again, not caring about letting him win anymore. You just wanted him to make you cum now.

He laughs at how pathetic you look and he moves your thong out of the way to stick a finger in your dripping pussy.

“Oh fuck love, you’re even wetter than I fuckin’ thought.” He says as he pumps his finger in and out of you slowly, other hand still gripping your hair so you keep eye contact with him.

“You apologize, and I’ll let you cum. Got it?” He says sternly.

You hesitate for a second, not really wanting to push your pride aside, but you needed to cum. Your pussy was throbbing and leaking so hard you couldn’t even think straight and you felt like it would never stop unless you got to cum.

You nod, and Price starts thrusting his finger in and out again. You hump his knee as your eyes roll back into your head. He lets go of your hair, making your head drop down again so he can spank you as he fingers you.

“Go on sweetheart. Say you’re sorry for being a brat.” He says bringing his palm down over your ass cheek again, making you jolt as he finger fucks you still.

Your mind goes fuzzy as he inserts another finger, his ring and middle finger fitting perfectly snug next to each other as they move in and out your sopping pussy.

You moan loudly at the sudden stretch which makes Price just finger you faster.

“That’s it. Keep rubbing that pussy on my knee. Rock those hips. Fuck you’re so damn tight. Such a pretty ass all marked up with my handprint.”

He remembers why he’s doing this in the first place and grips your hair one last time, pulling you up again.

“Say. It. Or I’ll fucking stop.”

You feel your orgasm get closer and closer and the thought of him stopping was worse than anything in this moment.

You look up at him, mouth open, fucked out look on your face with tears running down your cheeks now from pleasure instead of pain.

“I’m sorry. Fuck John I’m sorry. Just, please don’t stop.” You whimper out pathetically. “I won’t talkback to you again just please, let me cum.”

Price smirks and stops his movements, which makes you whine out loud.

He leans down to your face, licking your tears off your cheek before dragging his tongue up to your ear to whisper: “Good.”

He sits back up and speeds up even faster, fucking you so good with his fingers as you continue to hump his knee. Your hands are gripping his thighs for leverage as you feel yourself at the edge of your release.

“Cum for me. Cum all over my fucking fingers. Show me how sorry you are.” He demands, grip still tight on your hair and fingers pumping in and out faster and faster each time.

“Fuck John I- I’m, I’m cumming fuck-“ you babble out right before you roll your eyes back and squirt all over your bare thighs, Price’s clothed thigh, and his hand as your orgasm rips through your body making your pussy pulse around his fingers.

“Oh fuck sweetheart. Yeah look at that. Soaking my hand, fuck. Squeezing me so good.”

He fingers you through your orgasm, then he lets go of your hair and you drop your head down trying to catch your breath.

Price pulls your now soaked thong back over your pussy and pulls your cargos back up, wiping his hand on his own. He then helps you up to sit on his lap and you curl up on him, leaning your head into his neck.

“How you feelin’ sweetheart?” He asks.

You hum in response, closing your eyes.

“Listen, we can discuss the plan over again. I won’t force you to do anything you’re that uncomfortable doing.” He tells you.

You open your eyes.

“Funny you think I was ever going to listen to you in the first place.” You retort with a smirk.

He laughs.

“God, what am I gonna do with you?” He asks jokingly.

“Well if it’s anything like what you just did, then I’m in full compliance.”

You both laugh and you snuggle back into his chest, both knowing you were definitely going to back talk him again, but also both glad you ever did.

tag: @pearisvlogs

[mistydeyes]

hiiiiiii can you please do a reader who is captain of a all woman force like top 3 military ranks and shes young to and she dates gaz ex

When 141 raid las v they get over powered by shadows and laswell knew this would happen so she calls in reader and her team to help 141 are there thinking fight until you drop until they see soldiers in all black military outfits with masks take down shadows no sweat. And then soap comes up like “thanks man who are you” and she’s like “we’re the widows” and uncovers her mask to reveal she’s a woman…….

I always imagined in the cod world an black widow inspired branch

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND YOU ARE LOVED,GORGEOUS,SMART,WORTHY 💕💕💕

thank you so much for requesting and the kind words! highkey wish they would introduce a group of badass fighter women into the modern warfare universe

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summary: Working behind the scenes is a group of highly trained and focused women. They're only whispers until the 141 is put into a perilous position and require rescuing.

pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, depictions of violence

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"How's that lover boy of yours doing, Angel?" your second-in-command joked. You rolled your eyes as you closed your final page of post-op paperwork. "Probably trying to beat his mates in a push-up contest," you replied, laughing at the thought of Kyle doing anything else. Despite what you thought, Gaz was pinned down in an empty cargo container in the middle of Mexico. While Ghost and Soap provided cover, he was trying to contact Laswell through a majority-busted radio. "Watcher-1, it's Bravo team," he shouted before he heard the broken-up replies from Laswell. Price pulled the radio out of his hands before he took the tiny window of opportunity to respond. "Watcher-1, we need emergency evac," he rapidly said with a hoarse tone, "we need help, Watcher-1." 

Your restful slumber was awoken by a hurried set of knocks on your quarter's door. You hastily jumped out of bed and opened it to reveal a private, standing sheepishly in front of you. "Sorry to wake you ma'am but Chief Station Laswell is online in the conference room and she wants to speak to you," they said hastily and you quickly followed after them, disregarding the current state you were in. An hour later, you, your lieutenant, and sergeants were on a helo to Las Alamas, Mexico. "They say what kind of shit they're in?" Iris, your most junior sergeant, asked over the howling night air and the sound of rotating helicopter blades. "Only that it's Captain Price's men and their last comm came from a storage container," you replied. Your team could tell you were worried and your lieutenant threw an arm around your shoulders. "We'll get them and make sure Sergeant Kyle is safe, Major," she reassured but this did nothing to help the growing pit in your stomach and the pooling sweat in your palms. Why the fuck did you let this happen, Price?

"Evac in 2 hours," the pilot called over the comms and your team dispersed into the rubble of what resembled a base. You used the back of your hand to shield your masked face from the kicked-up sand and dirt. The midnight black balaclavas felt hot against your face but you disregarded the minor discomfort. Countless bodies of the private militia group, the Shadows, littered the ground and you kicked over each body in a fruitless attempt to identify them. "Cargo holds should be 2 clicks to our north," Viper, your lieutenant, directed and you signaled them to follow your lead. You approached cautiously, hiding behind other containers and building rubble as you swept for enemy reinforcements. You looked down to see a cluster of heat signatures heading your way. "Hold on," you directed with a fist in the air, "we got company." The group stopped on your command and you quickly devised a plan, "Iris and Artemis, you take overwatch," you commanded as they began to move in careful sprints, "Cosmo, you and I will move towards the cargo," with that, you dispersed and moved quickly under the guise of dust.

As soon as you neared the rusted metal structure, you could hear a cacophony of shouts followed by the piercing sound of bullets. "Get down, Angel," you could hear your sergeant yell and you thudded to the ground. Amongst the dust, you could see the soldiers fall one by one with your team's sniper rounds filing through them like they were paper. Despite feeling absolute pride in their skill set, you were interrupted by a tight grip on your ankles. You turned to see a Shadow Company member crawling towards you, knife ready to attack. The adrenaline kicked in as you slammed your boot into their face and prepared to go on the offensive. As they were momentarily stunned, you took the opportunity to savagely jump on their back and crudely drag their knife along their neck. "Good night," you whispered before letting them fall to the ground with a thud. You continued to move to your target, gingerly wiping the reddened blood on your pants. Cosmo didn't question your appearance as you entered her vision and resumed the mission. When you reached the outer doors of the container, your other two remaining members had joined.

You knocked in succession, a code Laswell had told you before you departed. After a few moments of anticipation, the door slowly opened to reveal the tired and grimy faces of Price's team. You looked around and lost count of the amount of injuries you noticed and how some of their limbs were turned in unnatural ways. You could feel your chest tighten as you looked to find Kyle amongst the empty shell cartridges. You were comforted when you saw his face peer over the group. You walked over to him and hugged him tightly, savoring the feeling of knowing he was safe in your arms. "Thank you for the rescue," you could hear him whisper before he pulled you back into an embrace. "You know these lads, Garrick?" you could hear someone say. You turned to see the bruised and cut face of Soap as he tried to feign a smile. Before Kyle could respond, you were sure to make yourself and your team known. "We're not men, Sergeant," you said confidently, peeling off your dusty and blood-soaked mask, "we're the widows."

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (18)

***

The next problem to solve is how to make a bed. There's enough wood left to build a simple raised box but finding a mattress is harder.

"I could claim mine was damaged and request a new one," Vander suggests as they walk up to the riverside, bellies full and dusk lingering around them.

Silco shakes his head. "They'd charge you for the replacement. And you'd have to return the old one to prove the damage."

"We could make one," Vander says and Silco looks intrigued. "Get an old sail, sew it together. Stuff it with all the spare rags you can find. It's not as comfortable as the Piltover mattresses but it's a lot better than a wooden box."

Silco pulls a face. "We'll keep that as a backup plan."

"What's your bright idea?"

"You'll see," Silco promises as he leads them to the docks. He speaks to the harbour master and then the three of them are walked down to a goods ship moored close by. Goods get sold in Piltover because Pilties can afford them, but the socking fees are much higher. It's common for a shipping company to save money by docking in the undercity for a day or two, and only docking in Piltover for a day to unload.

They end up talking to a captain transporting furniture, including desks and beds. He denies having any damaged stock to get rid of, so Silco asks, "How much do you sell those for?"

The captain looks Silco up and down, and then condescendingly says, "Thirteen gold."

"So, a hundred and seventeen bronze," Silco says easily. Vander knows it's three bronze to a silver cog, and three silvers to a gold piece, but he'd need to stop and count it out to check if Silco was right. "That's what the Pilties pay for it, probably in some very grand store. But how much do you get paid by the store owner?"

"Half of that. Five gold and two silver each."

"So fifty-one bronze." Silco leans closer, letting his voice drop to a friendly, confidential tone. "What if we offered you sixty-five bronze? You'd make a little profit and that Piltover merchant isn't going to miss one bed."

Vander almost jumps in to say that don't have that much coin. The mine cash box doesn't visit them until next week - and even the loan sharks in the mine won't have much left in the last week of the month.

"Think about it," Silco says. "you don't have to answer tonight but perhaps on your next trip over here, you could bring one extra bed. And a desk."

Before they leave, Silco talks to four other captain's, offering them similar terms: higher direct price if they'll sell a small portion of their cargo to Silco. Two of them sell alcohol, one sells fabric and the last ship is carrying weapons.

"Weapons?" Vander hisses once they're out of earshot. "What sort of weapons does a miner need?"

"Gas masks," Silco replies. "I've seen the Pilties wear them. Why shouldn't we have them too?"

"And how are you going to afford this?"

"We will," Silco promises. "We'll each withdraw as much as we can this month. I'll keep a tally of what we each contributed and divy up any profits fairly."

Silco sounds certain but Vander knows how much most miners spend in the mess hall and how little they spend anywhere else. "You think there'll be profits?"

"If we find a way to sell people what they need at a price they can afford? Of course we will."

***

[struniolos]

wish you were sober! pt. 1

“kinda hope you're followin' me out, but this is definitely not my crowd.”

chris sturniolo x fem! reader.

synopsis: when reader is overwhelmed at a party & finds herself in unlikely company. (no fame au.)

warnings: none!

“i’m just going to do another shot!” one of your friends yells in your ear, trying to overpower the music thudding in the background. two other join her, linked arms, as they make their way to the kitchen. you wonder who’s house this even is, as you hadn’t been invited directly, only dragged along as a plus one.

you are now left with two of your friends, who both look at you with raised brows. the thick summer air only gets worse as you feel like you’re being closed in on.

“aren’t you going to do shots? you’ve barely drank anything tonight.” one asks, tilting her head.

“i really don’t feel great.” you confess, your face screwing up in bitterness. your stomach ached, as well as what felt like your brain thrashing around in your skull, clawing at the inside.

“maybe try making yourself vomit? sometimes that helps.” the other suggests, trying her best to be accomodating in her drunken state, while clutching onto your arm for stability. it wasn’t a terrible idea, as you did feel like you were going to throw your guts up at any given moment. but also, it was a good excuse to disappear into the bathroom for a few minuets undisturbed.

“i might try that, thanks.” you force a smile, before quickly slithering out of their grip, and making a bee-line for the stairs which in that moment seemed like the stairs leading to heaven. peace and quiet.

you jog up the stairs, while trying to hold down your skirt so you don’t unintentionally flash your ex-classmates. the hot air seemed to be worse upstairs, and you knew it all too well from living in a two storey home your entire life. heat rises. why on earth did your foggy brain think it would be cooler up here?

you manage to find the bathroom, sighing in relief when you found it empty. you closed the door hurriedly behind you, and make your way to the sink. you run the cold water under your hands, splashing it on your flushed face. your mascara had started to smudge under your eyes from the heat, and your lipgloss had completely melted off. real classy. as you begin to wipe your fingers under your eyes, a knock on the door startles you.

“yeah?” you call, not hiding your frustration.

“can i come in?” the voice asks.

you sigh, throwing your head back. so much for peace and quiet. you throw open the door, shocked at who you find behind it. chris sturniolo. you knew him and his brothers didn’t go to parties, not even in high school. you wonder who or what dragged them to this one. he was a year older than you, but you were well aware of who he was. the star player on the lacrosse team.

“you mind if i chill in here for a bit?” he asks nonchalantly.

you’re now confronted with the option of being a douchebag and saying no, or saying yes and then trying to weasel your way out. you scan his face, the bags under his eyes, the muss of his hair from the heat. he looked exhausted, you imagine that’s how you looked, too.

“yeah, sure.” you shrug, opening the door wider for him to come in.

he immediately makes himself at home, hoisting himself to sit up on the bench beside the sink. you take in what he’s wearing, a black singlet and cargo shorts with ugg boots. definitely a choice.

“did i walk in on something or…like you weren’t crying or anything?” he asks, widening his eyes at you and freezing in place.

“oh! no, no not at all.” you smile awkwardly, shuffling on your feet.

“right, you just uh, look…” he trails off, waving his finger at you.

“terrible?” you answer with a defeated laugh.

he laughs. “yeah.”

you find yourself smiling a little, too. “i feel terrible.”

“me fucking too.” he sighs, leaning his head back onto the mirror and kicking his uggs off. you envied his confidence.

“so, what brings you to the bathroom chris sturniolo?” you ask as you put the toilet seat down to give yourself a surface to sit on.

he gives you a funny look, pouting his lip and raising an eyebrow. “how do you know who i am?”

“you were only the star lacrosse player of southeast high!” you taunt, holding a hand to your heart and mocking the many fan girls he had at his beck and call.

he tsks and rolls his eyes, “nah, matt was always miles better than me.”

“he was.” you lie, a smirk creeping up on your lips.

chris chuckles, shaking his head. “anyway, to answer your question, i’m trying to escape my very drunk and gross friends, one of them vomited on my shoe, look!”

he points to his discarded ugg boot, which you now see has a splatter of dark liquid on it, and you find yourself feeling sick. “fuck that’s gross.”

“i know right! but i’ve had enough anyway, i want to go home but matt’s driving and he’s not ready to go yet, neither is nick. at least they’re having fun.”

“and you don’t drink?” you ask, crossing your legs criss cross applesauce style.

“nah, me and my brothers are sober. just don’t really see the point in drinking. got nothing against it, just not my thing.”

“you know, don’t take this the wrong way but, i honestly pictured you as the frat boy type.”

“ha, i’m far from it.” he laughs, “but that’s what all the lacrosse boys were like. it was painful having to put up with it.”

“i can imagine.” you tell him.

there’s a lick of silence, and the bathroom was beginning to get stuffy- despite the window being open and letting a small breath of air through every now and then. you see chris wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, puffing out a breath. “it’s so fucking hot i think i’m going to die.”

you found yourself in a daze, looking at him now, really looking at him. he was cute as hell, how had you never noticed? the way his hair hung just over his forehead, how his arms were softly toned…

“hey, i never got your name. that was rude of me.” he says, turning to you.

you tell him, and he nods his head. “you look like that’s your name.”

“what?”

“you know how some people look like their names? i feel like i don’t look like a chris.” he elaborated, waving his hands around to emphasise his point.

“yeah, maybe a chad.” you chuckle.

“if i was a chad, i’d have already kissed you.” chris tells you, not looking at you, more like he was talking to himself. speaking into the abyss.

you widen your eyes, “what?”

chris kicks his feet back and forth, hitting the cabinets below. “nothing.”

there’s a pause, the only sound you could hear was your breathing, surrounding you, suffocating. you decide to be bold. i mean, what was there to loose, anyway? you couldn’t just sulk alone all night.

“i mean, i wouldnt say no.” you confess, avoiding eye contact, looking down at his vomit splayed ugg boot, discarded on the tiles. although, you could feel his eyes on you.

“to what?” he says, more confidently.

“if…” you begin, now looking up at him and loosing your train of thought.

“i kissed you?”

you freeze, blinking a few times to check you weren’t hallucinating and that your drink hadn’t been spiked. after a few breaths, you realised he wasn’t going anywhere, and that he was right there. only a few steps away. yet you couldn’t find your feet, we’re you supposed to make the first move?

before you could continue the battle in your brain, chris had slid back down to his feet, his hands bracing on the bench behind him, arms flexed. he tilted his head at you, almost like a puppy, waiting. he was waiting for you.

you stand up, and slowly, ever so slowly, make your way towards him. you bite your lip, your breath quickening and heart thumping in your chest like it would pounce onto him if it could. how had your night turned so quickly? weren’t you downstairs wishing you were anywhere else only 20 minuets ago?

chris reached his hand out to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, licking his lips. “you’re so pretty.”

you blush hard, looking down at your feet. “even with my smudged mascara?”

“yeah.” he chuckles, reaching for your hand to pull you closer to him.

you were now face to face, your eyes in line with his lips. you felt like your heart was about to fall out of your ass, with the way he was looking at you. not greedy, not like other boys did- if they did. it was sweet, like he was really looking at you, his mellow blue eyes scanning your face and landing on your lips.

he slid a hand behind your ear, leaning into you. you leaned in, too, unsure of what you were supposed to do. you had only ever kissed one boy, and it was in eighth grade as a dare during a game of spin the bottle. this time was different. it wasn’t a game, and nobody was watching.

chris kissed you gently, only testing the waters. it was only chaste, but you felt yourself ascend into another dimension. his lips were soft, and he was so warm. you feel something deep your belly, swirling around. your cheeks begin to flush a little more than they already were, your headache now a distant memory. he pulled away as soon as it happened, as if he had been snapped back into reality.

“sorry, i don’t um…usually do this. i feel like such a douche.”

“you’re far from a douche.” you reassure him, placing a hand on his forearm.

his hand that rested behind your ear was now playing with a coil of your hair. “i mean you were just so pretty, and i didn’t know how to-“

suddenly, you feel yourself swarmed with pride, beginning to smile. “chris! did you follow me up here?”

“um, no?” he says, as his eyes dart around the room comedically as a toothy grin adorns his face.

“you don’t seem so sure.” you tease.

he laughs, shrugging. “what can i say, it worked.”

you find yourself overcome with a feeling you didn’t recognise, something between overjoyed and astounded. you quickly press your lips into his, a little more assured this time. he kisses you back just as eagerly, pulling your waist close to his, breathing hot air into your lungs. you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands, so you snaked your hand into his soft, full hair. he groaned into your mouth, and you felt your stomach do flips.

this was definitely not how you expected your night to go.

part two.

[bberry005]

now that i've sat down and thought a little bit more, perrin's speech in episode 2 was actually so good and i'm about to analyze it entirely too closely because i've had so many thoughts since i first watched it.

like "pain will find you. trouble and disagreement will arrive without summons. there's no choice in this, there's no effort required. you will simply stand still and the galaxy will deliver a daily basket of fresh anxieties to your door without fail" that is already so good. he's being truthful, honest, and maybe a little too real about how his life with mon turned out as he tells his daughter (and the room) about marriage.

but then? then you get "my hope...my hope...my hope is that you learn to reach past this constant cloud of sadness. pleasure, gaiety, amusement, these are the hidden things. the music buried beneath all that noise...joy. joy!" okay we're getting somewhere. we've got our rebellion undertones in there with his repeition of hope. he could just be talking about relationships and marriage and he probably is, but with pans to mon and vel and luthen, he could also be talking about the rebellion, the war. we will reach past the war, the empire, the pain and the suffering, and we will see joy again. in fact, joy might even be hidden in the pockets of this horrible place. we can search for it in all the hidden places (a long table on mina rau, in a converted cargo ship called the ghost, on an island called pabu), and we should. even in the most horrible times, there is a hidden joy underneath it all.

AND FINALLY we get "joy...but joy has no wind at its back. joy will not announce its arrival. you need to listen for it and be mindful of how fleeting and delicate it can be. but search out those treasures. a moment of...of pleasing sensation, the memory of the laughter and good company, the comfort of a fine meal." just...god its so good. because he is right. in the show, in real life, its hard to latch onto joy. its easy to get bogged down in all of the trouble and anxieties and forget that joy is there. that we need to listen for it. the rebels are at their lowest during the years leading up to the battle of yavin. they're scattered, desperate, waiting for that moment where they band together and take their chance and manage to overturn the empire, but there's more beneath all of that. they do not need to wait until the war is over to experience joy. perhaps they can find it in a quiet moment in the morning or late at night or surrounded by friends while planning for a mission, but joy is not gone as long as we search for it. joy is still there for those who have hope, and i think that's a beautiful thing for andor to say on top of all of that horrible, gritty reality that they show us. because this is star wars, and in rebellion era star wars specifically, hope is always the point.

[brunolover808]

@hom3land3r (Starter)

"Currently at Vought International anyone special can live the dream of being a hero. Our biggest name around the United States is The Homelander. A rising star among the greatest powers in Vought. Progress in the making. A brighter future for the next generation."

Vought, a name commonly listed on products, newspapers, radio channels, and even spoken at the dinner table. A company that is not uncommon these days.

Vought is known for the arsenal of heroes and security. Classified information is kept under wraps. Classified personnel are kept on strict rules. No matter the situation, person, or hero, Vought keeps everything locked down. The security surrounding the company facilitates the raw power and money they hold.

Personnel chosen by Vought go under background checks, giant stacks of paperwork to get them approved for possible work, then they are reminded by strict policies and NDAs. That is for normal employees. There are a very select few who Vought owns.

In the case of a Supe is found to be put into a situation of the parents releasing parental rights. There is a system that deals with collecting the potential heroes of the future. Which brings the few chosen to be under the protection and care of Vought International. Given the highest quality of training and education provided to keep the world safe.

Tap, tap, tap, step, turn, step. The air turning from metallic and heavy with gasoline to stuffy and over used cleaning products. The smell of corporate cleanliness was disgusting and unnecessarily strong on the main floor. Entering the tower there is first a long front desk wrapped around the center wall that likely hid the main support beams of the building. The flooring led with hints of texture towards a couple of security guards and what looked to be the highest tech for metal detectors. Past that was sectioned off walls, elevators, café, and the main bustling of corporate employees.

So much was going on already, yet nothing pierced the metal and fabric of wired headphones. Chunky, heavily pressed against ruffled jet black shoulder shoulder length hair. The speakers squeak with tremble as the figure turns to the security. The first guard raised a hand which was lowered the moment the headphones were taken off.

"Empty your pockets and bag on the table before walking through." A brief exchange between the guard and the woman.

Silence from the woman's end as the headphones and a walkman. The two items stretched a good technical jump, but could easily be found locally. The woman drops her bag on the table before walking through. Nothing detected that wasn't obvious to see, but the security still does a pat down before letting her go. The woman grabbed her items and continued on. The dark hair swayed, leading the eye to a baggy black jacket, black button up slightly tucked into cargo pants, and old sneakers that saw better days. The dark eyes looked around before landing on the elevator. Stepping towards the direction there was a noticeable change as she passed others. Her express is dark, cold, and unwelcoming. She did not speak even as she got on the elevator and tapped the floor she needed to go to. Silent, uninterested.

To no one's surprise the elevator was quick. The doors open and close with each floor till the woman stepped off. Almost an instant sigh of relief from those still on the metal box.

Briefly the hallway looked white, medical almost, but after walking through a door it looked industrial. Cement, dim lighting, hues of blue. Nothing too uncommon for back walkways to a certain room. At the end of the hall there was a double door and with ease the woman opened them to find a densely padded and concrete room. Had aspects of a dojo and gym. A training room for Vought's greatest heroes.

A new face was there to welcome the woman. "I am so glad you could find your way here. I did tell the front desk to have an escort, but you are a smart girl who knows how to follow directions. Welcome to Vought Tower Amrita" Madelyn Stillwell, the current agent over Homelander and, as far as Amrita knew, the Seven.

"It was not hard." Amrita sighs out before flicking a strand of hair out of her face. "So I was told that I would be training Supes for Vought."

"You are going to be training The Seven for Vought, but I want you to take over someone's training specifically." Her lips curling into a fake smile that would be award winning.

"Homelander." Amrita interrupted shortly as to not dillydally this warm welcome.

"Exactly, our rising star has been needing some refreshers on combat and other life saving acts. Which is why after hearing we produced the perfect Supe to train other Supes, I could not resist insisting on your employment here." Madelyn's words are very particular as though she was not trying to say that their golden boy was failing at being a hero. "I do want to inform you that your quarters will be on this floor and you can leave whenever you like after you make sure all training sessions are finished."

Amrita didn't act honored or anything all she did was look off past the blonde woman. She just wanted to get this over so she didn't have to socialize with her boss. "Where is the boy wonder?" She said already taking steps to wander the training area.

[arc-misadventures]

What are those: wallow decided to go to beacon academy with winter to go see how wiess is doing but instead meet with jaune

The Dragon’s Diamond

A small bullhead flew through the air towards, Beacon Academy. It was a privately owned airship that belonged to the, Schnee Dust Company, and right now it was carrying an assortment of precious cargo: The daughter of the founder of the, SDC, Willow Schnee. Her eldest child, Winter Schnee. And a locked cased filled with diamonds of various sizes, and quality. At least what they assumed were diamonds. For they had come here to see if they were in fact real diamonds.

Winter: I’m sorry mother, but I must protest; Why did you have to come along to handle this simple endeavour; you could have simply handed over your, and my diamonds to, Klein, and let him handle it. Why did you have to come along?

Willow: I needed a vacation. This seemed like a reasonable excuse why to do so. Besides, it also gives me an excuse to be around my daughters. Is there something wrong with me desiring to be with my family my dear?

Winter: …

Winter: No, no there isn’t anything wrong with that, it’s just unexpected is all.

Willow: I understand, but being away from home also keeps me away from drinking. I’ve managed to at least reduce the amount I’ve been drinking substantially, but being around your father long enough will lead me back to drowning myself in the bottle again. I cannot allow that to happen.

Winter: I… I’m sorry, I thought you chose to leave for different reasons.

Willow: Like trying fine, Valian wines?

Winter: Ahh! Yes… Yes I thought so.

Willow: Well, depending on what, and where we’re having dinner I wouldn’t mind a suitable wine to go along with it, but I have to stop drinking. Not so much for myself, but for you, your sister, and your brother. I… I want to stay a part of your lives, to see you grow old, and start families of your own in the future. It would be a shame if I am to deny myself these opportunities because I drank myself to death…

Winter: Thank you, Mother. Hearing you say that means a lot to me. But, if you want to give up drinking, why are you looking forward to having wine with your meal?

Willow: I’m slowly weaning myself off drinking. Not everyone can just go cold turkey now can they?

Winter: I would prefer it if you did.

Willow: Well, it would probably be for the best if I did, but… Oh, we’re here, let’s continue this discussion later, and find your sister.

Winter: Very well then, Mother.

As the ship landed the mother, and daughter duo grabbed their luggage, and made their way towards the academy. As they neared closer to the tower, Willow couldn’t help, but take in the sights around her.

Willow: Oh my… Beacon Academy is such a lovely place.

Winter: Yes, the warm breeze, and vibrant greenery give this place such a relaxing air to it.

Willow: I know, Weiss went to, Beacon to escape father in, Atlas. But, do you suppose this rich atmosphere contributed to it?

Winter: I believe it was more so her desire to escape, Father. But, this is a nice benefit.

Willow: I hope she is feeling happy here.

Winter: Me too.

Willow: But, where do you believe she is?

Winter: I have no idea, there should be an information desk up front we can ask.

Willow: Or, I suppose we could ask him if he knows where, Weiss is.

Winter: Who?

As they drew closer to the, Academy they saw the statue out front, and a student sitting on the base of the statue. They noticed that he was seemingly mumbling to himself as he ran his hands through his golden hair as he evaded the white horns poking out.

Winter: A faunas?

Willow: Excuse me, young man?

: Hmm, what? Oh, hello.

Willow: Hello. I was wondering if you could help us.

: With what?

Winter: We’re looking for my sister, Weiss Schnee, do you perchance know her?

: Weiss Schnee? Yeah, I know her, we’re friends after all.

Willow: Excellent, can you please lead us to her?

: Sure I can… I can…?! Hurk?!

His hand quickly came up to cover his mouth, seemingly trying to repress a gag. His luck failed him as he continued to dry heave until a he opened his mouth, and a belch of fire erupted from his mouth before he fell into a small coughing fit as small jets of flame escaping his mouth with each cough. As soon as his coughing fit ended he popped a small white marble into his mouth, before turning to address the duo.

: Jacques you cheap bastard! (Cough!) Ahem, sorry about that, upset stomach. Hehe…

The duo looked at him in stunned shock, taking a moment for themselves to collect themselves. Willow seemingly able to keep her wits about her.

Willow: A-Are you okay?

: Yeah, I’m fine.

Winter: But, you just belched fire?

: That’s a semi-common occurrence.

Willow: But…?!

Winter: Wait, Mother… Male, blue eyes, blond hair, horns, and can breath fire… You’re the, Dragon King, Jaune Arc, aren’t you?

Jaune: That’s me, well mostly. I’m not a king of any sorts, but I am a dragon faunas. Anyway, my name is, Jaune Arc, nice to meet you.

Jaune offered his hand for the pair to shake as they introduced themselves in kind.

Willow: Willow, Willow Schnee, it’s a pleasure to meet you.

Winter: Specialist Winter Schnee.

Jaune: So you’re, Weiss’s family? That explained the smells.

Winter: Smells?

Jaune: I have a highly, highly acute sense of smell. I can smell familiarity’s between people, to the point I can tell if someone is related to another.

Winter: That sounds like an impressive ability.

Jaune: It has its downsides… Like my little sister trying to use me as a bloodhound…

Willow: You said you are friends with my daughter, Mr. Arc, can you lead us to her?

Jaune: Uhhh… No, no I can’t. She went into, Vale with the rest of her team just a little while ago.

Winter: She did, why?

Jaune: I don’t know; I left to ‘throw up,’ and when I came back she, and her teammates had disappeared. My sister said that they had made an emergency trip to, Vale, and that was all there was to it. Do you want me to call her, and let her know you’re here?

Winter: No… Well, maybe we should.

Willow: Oh dear… I was hoping to surprise her with our sudden visit.

Jaune: You can still do that if you want.

Willow: We can, how?

Jaune: Weiss, and her teams room is just down the hall from my teams room. You can wait there until she arrives.

Winter: What do you think mother?

Willow: We might as well, this young man has graciously offered us his place to us while we wait for your sister to return. We won’t be in there for a few hours at most.

Winter: Very well, we graciously accept your kind offer, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: My pleasure, and please, just call me, Jaune.

Winter: Very well then, Jaune.

Jaune: Even if you rejected my offer you’d no doubt be taken to my room anyway so I could inspect those diamonds, and any other gemstones of yours. If there are any that is…

Winter: What are you talking about?

Jaune: Two things: Those are, Fortress grade safe-boxes, made by the, Gem Refinery. To which I own, I know my merchandise. Especially the safe-boxes…

Willow: Wait, you’re the owner of the, Gem Refinery?

Jaune: Yes, I am. Second I over heard, Weiss… screaming to her father on how she wanted her entire families precious jewels so they can be appraised. And, who is that appraiser, me: Jaune Arc, the Lapidary Master!

Willow: You’re the, Lapidary Master?!

Jaune: Yep!

Willow: I don’t believe you. You’re just a teenager, and you’re supposedly the worlds most renowned fine cut gem grader?

Jaune: Oh, just you wait, and see darling! Now then, lets go look at some pretty stones!

~~~

Jaune: Hmmmm…?

Jaune hummed in speculation as he examined a rather large diamond on a gold ring with a jewellers magnifier. Willow looked on in a chair besides him, while, Winter look on from his bed as, Jaune worked.

Willow: That was the engagement ring my husband gave me, he said it is one caret diamond ring.

Willow: …

Willow: It is a diamond ring… Right?

Jaune looked at, Willow, back to the ring, and then back to her. Their eyes stayed locked for a moment before he threw it into his mouth, and a hard crunching sound soon followed this action.

Willow’s face fell into her hands as she groaned in disbelief at what she had just witnessed, again.

Willow didn’t believe, Jaune when he started sorting her diamonds into two piles, one labeled real, and labeled fake. The ‘fake’ pile had grown considerably larger then the ‘real’ pile to the point she doubted he was actually genuinely grading her diamonds, and was trying to steal them. To prove his innocence, he grabbed a sizeable real diamond, and bit it. The sound it made was akin to bitting a jaw breaker: hard, and solid, as if one smacked their head against a wall.

Jaune, then grabbed one he deemed a ‘fake’ and bit into it. The sound was like someone bit into a hard candy, and wanted to chew it up, instead of sucking on it; Loud, and crunchy.

He made this a habit whenever she doubted his expertise, as a master gemologist. A habit she had come to dread because of the details that followed with it.

Luckily that was the second to last diamonf he needed to inspect, and she knew for certain that the last one wasn’t fake.

Willow: At least tell me the ring was made of gold?

Jaune spat out the piece of metal next to the pile of fakes, she grimaced as she looked at him as he regretfully smiled at her.

Jaune: Well… Pyrite, isn’t called ‘fools gold’ for nothing… hehe…

Willow: Gods dammit… My husband bought me a fake engagement ring?! How cheap of a man is he?!

Winter: More so then we could possibly believe…

Jaune: I doubt he was in this case.

Winter: What do you mean?

Jaune: Well… From what I’ve been told your father is a greedy whore. Uhh?! N-No offence.

Winter: None taken.

Willow: Please, feel free to continue badmouthing my husband at your leisure.

Jaune: Okay? Anyway, your husband is a greedy whore, from what I’ve seen. And, from what, Weiss has said about him is that he doesn’t commit to anything that doesn’t have a shiny price tag attached to it. I think he acquired these gemstones as a future investment. Liquid assets as you would put it.

Winter: That sounds like something father would do, but why would he buy fakes? My father is a greedy bastard, and will do everything to save a chip. He wouldn’t buy fake diamonds, there’s no value in that.

Jaune: Maybe he didn’t know he was buying fakes?

Winter: You believe someone swindled him?

Willow: It is a logically sound idea when you think about it.

Jaune: I’m well aware of several infamous gem pedlars. Give me a list of your sellers, and I could identify who is a legit seller, and who is not. Because there are some real ones here, so maybe he bought the fakes from one person, and the real ones from another.

Willow: I believe they were all acquired from one person, at least the vast majority were.

Jaune: And, that person’s name is?

Willow: Cartiff… Cartiff… Oh, I forget his first name.

Jaune: …

Jaune: It wouldn’t happen to be, Quintin now would it…?

Willow: Quintin… Yes, Quintin Cartiff, that was his name. How did you know?

Jaune: Quintin… Quintin Cartiff…

Willow: J-Jaune? Is everything okay…

Jaune: Quintin CARTIFF!!!

Winter immediately jumped in front of her mother pulling her mother back. Her hand stayed on her blade as she saw a truly terrifying sight. Within the space of a blink the calm, and happy boy revealed a monster of fire, and ash. His head realed upwards as he scream his name in a bloody rage. Winter got to see first hand the hidden fang he hide behind that warm, and inviting smile of his. The way his mouth shut, terrified her knowing full well he could bite down into someone in mere seconds, and could easily pierce through aura, and flesh like it was tissue paper. She marvelled at the sight of blue flames erupting from clenched fangs. The reports she had seen about the dragon faunas were fragmented, and vague, but even those brief insights paled in reality at the sight before her.

The flames, erupting from, Jaune’s teeth slowly fettered out as a finally deep exhale escaped his lips, he shook his head as if trying to shake off some sort of ill feeling upon him. He leaned back in his chair to look at the mother, daughter duo as he gave them a nervous, and embarrassed smile as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

Jaune: Ah haha… Sorry about that… I didn’t expect hearing his name to set me off like that… Hehehe… Sorry…

Willow: It seems you are well acquainted with this individual?

Jaune: As well as I would like to be. The bastard is an infamous counterfeiter, specializing in fake jewels. Particularly diamonds. I met him years ago after I just started out my… passion for collecting precious gemstones. He sold me some nice diamonds the first few times, but then he came back again, and the ‘diamonds’ he brought were all fakes. He denied it of course. Then I ate his ‘diamonds’ to prove to him that they were all fakes.

Willow: Oh, so eating fake diamonds is not a recent habit you’ve developed. I thought it was just for show.

Jaune: Well, yeah it kinda is. I mean what better way to prove if a diamond is a fake?

Winter: Do you often eat precious stones?

Jaune: No, I tend to eat, Dust more so then cubic zirconia, and the like. That’s why I was belching fire earlier, Weiss fead me some, SDC Dust that made me sick to my stomach. Jacques is such a cheap bastard…

Winter: Wait, you eat, Dust?!

Willow: And, what does my husband have to do with that?

Jaune: Okay, one box left to examine!

Jaune simply ignored the ladies questions as he took out the last box. It was a seven inch cube box covered in various locking mechanisms that, Jaune was quite intrigued on opening it himself. But, in the pursuit of time he just handed it over to, Willow who opened it herself. And, upon it’s opening, Jaune beheld a beautiful sight. The one diamond he had been hoping to see for ages.

The famous, Schnee Diamond.

The diamond was cut into an orb with a with a three diameter, roughly making it the same size as your average baseball. It shimmered, and sparkled like a star under the light of his desk lamp. He extended the talons on his hand as he picked it up, and inspected this prized jewel. Turning it over as he marvelled in its beauty.

Willow: …?

Willow: Do you like it, Mr. Arc?

Jaune: …

Willow: Do you like it, Jaune?

Jaune: …

Willow: Jaune!

Jaune: Huw? Oh yeah, It is such a marvellous diamond… I’ve been dreaming of seeing it, holding it within my hands to marvel in its splendour since I first saw photos of it, and I must say those photos do it no justice in its magnificent.

Winter: Are you sure it’s real?

Winter cheekily remarked as, Jaune was lost in the beauty of the diamond in his taloned fingers. Her smile fell as she heard the most beautiful ringing sound she had ever heard as he tapped the diamond with his talon before turning to face her.

Jaune: Hear that? Humans can’t here this sound, most faunas can’t hear it either, but I can. Most diamonds are too small to make this an audible sound for most people to hear it. But, this diamond is big enough for anyone to hear it singing. Only a real diamond can make such beautiful sounds.

Willow: It is such a beautiful sound, I had no idea such sounds can come from a diamond.

Jaune: Only a few bare such elegance… Oh I wish I could have this diamond for myself… But alas, I doubt your open to selling it. Are you…?

Willow: If I was… Hypothetically speaking, how much would it be…?!

Jaune: Three billion Lien.

The duo looked at him astonished at the thought that, that diamond was worth, Three Billion Lein. The sense of unquestionable authority as he stated this didn’t make them question the possibility that he was gaslighting them so he could get it for a fraction of the price.

Willow: Oh my… I… I did not expect that…

Jaune: Didn’t you have it graded before?

Willow: Decades ago, and back then it was nearly a billion lien. But, to imagine the price has gone up that much… it’s unbelievable…

Jaune: It would be the worlds most valuable diamond, but that title was taken away from it a few years back.

Winter: Oh really? What took it’s place?

Jaune: This…

As if appearing from thin air, Jaune held out before the duo a diamond; A diamond cut into a sphere with a diameter of five inches across. Winter’s breath was stolen away as, Willow at the beauty presented before her. She carefully took it from him, fearing the validity of the rumours that he would gut her if she touched it. But, it appeared as if he was offering it to her to hold, so she took it.

She was amazed by its hefty weight, as she saw the light sparkle across it surface. She was amazed when her father showed her the, Schnee diamond, but the splendour of this diamond put it to shame so thoroughly she couldn’t find it in herself to complain about it in the slightest.

Willow: The Translucent Apple… Oh she is absolutely gorgeous~!

Winter: You’re the owner of the world’s largest diamond…?! That makes sense because you’re such a gemstone lover… But wait, where did you pull that out from? Do you just keep it hidden on your person at all times.

Jaune: Not in the shower.

Winter: What?!

Willow: It is truly a marvellous diamond. It was an honour to hold it. Winter, do you perhaps?

Winter: Nnnno, no I wouldn’t. If our family’s diamond is worth three billion, it terrifies me to hold something worth…

Jaune: Five billion Lien.

Winter: Five billion Lien… Wait, what really?!

Jaune: I am not considered one of the richest men in the world for nothing.

Winter: Five billion… And, he just has that up his coats sleeves?!

Willow: Well, it was a pleasure, despite the sheer disappointment of it all, no fault upon you, Jaune. I thank you for grading our families diamonds, and other precious stones.

Jaune: My pleasure… If you want, I can set you up with a jeweller from my company. I can confirm whole heartedly their validity as the genuine article.

Willow: I would appreciate that very much. But, there is something I would like to ask you…

Jaune: That being?

Willow: I heard you were offered gemstones as a dowery of sorts… Does that offer still stand?

Jaune’s burning focus of ingraining the beauty of the, Schnee Diamond upon his mind had finally been broken. Not even offering up the, Translucent Apple for, Willow to marvel at had broken his singular concentration of the diamond within his talon fingers. But, that one question broke him from his stupor like a gunshot to the heart. For he knew all to well what the dowery for this proposal would be.

Jaune: A-Are you offering me this diamond for your daughters hand…?

Willow: Indeed I am.

Winter: Mother no!

Winter exclaimed in shock as she looked at her mother as if she had lost her sanity. And, worry as, Jaune eyed the diamond with a new burning intensity trapped deep within the very depths of his soul.

Jaune: This… This is a priceless family heirloom, you wouldn’t simply give it away for me to accept, Weiss’s hand in marriage would you?

Willow: The diamond would still be in the hands of a, Schnee if you married my daughter, so it wouldn’t be lost. And, I never said anything about you marrying, Weiss now did I?

Willow looked to her eldest child with a smile as, Winter’s voice failed her. She was dumbfounded that this conversation had taken such a drastic turn. Was her mother seriously offering up the family’s prized heirloom for her hand in marriage?!

It was unthinkable. That her mother would do this to her on seemingly a whim. It scared her. But, what truly terrified her was the deafening silence that followed as, Jaune looked between her, and the diamond.

At her, and the diamond.

At her, and the diamond.

At her, and the diamond.

And, then at her, and only her.

Winter gulped in fear at the sudden turn her life was about to make.

[95-6qrsk2rx9uq42069nnnnnjthewolf]

"Princess"

Red Robin has been hanging around Hood like a persistent gnat he can’t swat lately. And sure, they’ve come to an understanding and collaborate frequently on cases. But this isn’t a predetermined meet-up to exchange intel or brainstorm an infiltration. This is Tim dropping in unannounced on a stakeout, or taking out a goon in a brawl that totally wasn’t about to get the drop on him, Hood had it all handled, really. And then the replacement doesn’t leave. Looking over his shoulder while Jason rifles through cargo holds, or ‘tsking’ from some high perch while watching him make a field repair on his gear, all with some vague air of expectancy like he was waiting for Jason to do something.

But he never gives any indication what it is he’s expecting from Jason, or whether or not Jason actually delivered. No rhyme or reason for when he decides he’s done being a nuisance, from what Jason can tell, though he’s sure it's all very precisely timed in Tim's head. 

The thing is, though, that Jason would maybe like to give Tim whatever it is he seems to want. He knows part of it is just how Tim is; the guy would probably have neglected to mention he runs a fortune-500 company if it hadn’t made national news. But he also knows that if you don’t ask for something, nobody can deny you it. He and Tim tend to run their mental gymnastics on a similar course. Probably part of why they get along so well. 

It’s the very same reason why, instead of asking for clear communication, what comes out of his mouth instead is, “You can pout all you like, princess, but that don’t make me any more of a mind reader. The sooner you tell me what you’re after, the sooner I can tell you to fuck off.”

Red Robin pouts even harder and straightens up, and Jason panics for a second that he actually is about to fuck off. A baseless worry though, when there’s still shit for Tim to poke his nose in. His frown only turns into a satisfied smirk as he points out the false wall in the office he’s decided they’re now investigating together.

~~~

Jason’s pretty sure he solves the mystery of what Tim’s after about two weeks later. 

Tim has turned Jason’s couch into a battle station; laptops, photos and files strewn around him. The coffee table is marginally less cluttered thanks to Jason only just having cleared the empty mugs and energy drink cans away. They’d returned from an extremely fruitful bust on a trafficking den that was the product of days worth of prep, and Tim is already picking up where they left off, pulling on the threads that will lead them to the next step up in the operation, not even fully out of his body armor and buzzing off the adrenaline of their success. Jason had barely gotten Tim’s jammed fingers in a splint before a laptop was being booted up and documents updated, dots connected. 

Normally Jason is more than happy to let Tim’s ridiculous brain run ten steps ahead and in five different directions at once; had once watched him solve a different case from the one he was actually working on accidentally. But Tim’s been burning the candle from both ends even more dramatically this week, prepping with him for this bust in the evenings, and dealing with bullshit meetings at his day job (Jason resents being aware of corporate finance calendars). Jason hears the beginning of frustrated grunts and pronounced keyboard clacking as Tim’s fingers start to stumble over one another and he has to delete more words than actually make it into the report he’s writing. 

“Alright, I’m calling it. If you crash here for the night you can get right back to it when you wake up,” Jason offers, like there’s actually any room for debate, sweeping up papers from the couch. And Tim must be even more exhausted than he realized, because he only gets half-hearted grumbling in response.

“You better save whatever you’re working on by the time I come back with blankets or I’m closing that laptop right on your fingers.”

And miracle of miracles, the laptop is already closed and atop the slightly precarious pile on the coffee table when he returns to the living room, Tim horizontal and watching him with pale eyes as piercing as ever, even behind heavy eyelids he can barely keep open.

Jason can’t do anything but drape the sheets over him, make sure he’s fully covered. Can’t help the words out of his mouth, not nearly as teasing as he meant them to be, 

“Sweet dreams, princess.”

And in response he gets the warmest, sleepiest smile he thinks he’s ever gotten from Tim, nuzzling happily into the blanket before he’s fully asleep in seconds flat, leaving Jason to stare and will his heart to not beat out of his chest.  

[therobotmonster]

You can complain about the crassness of 80s advert-toons, but what came before wasn't good just because it didn't have a toy company paying the bills.

In fact, that was part of the problem.

(splitting this into its own post)

Pre-80s, your biggest player in TV animation was Hanna Barbera. Post-Cartoon Network kids won't remember, but before they had a network to fill, HB made low-cost dreck exclusively. Race-to-the-bottom, cheap-as-possible, formula driven dreck.

Some of it was dreck with potential and staying power, because you had guys like Alex Toth trying their best to make good stuff despite being given the budget of a Viewmaster disk.

Kidvid in the 80s was the first time, en-masse, someone cared about the quality of kids' entertainment on TV. Not kids' edutainment, PBS existed for awhile, but actual get down and have fun kidvid. Prior to that you had the distressing puppet shows from Sid and Marty Kroft and everything else was 'what will the kids care?' low-end channel filler.

(Channel filler that was, by the way, still selling toys and candy. Just not themed after what the kids were watching)

Then in the 80s, suddenly a lot of people care about the quality of the show. They care because the show is a very expensive ad campaign, but suddenly the avenue to maximized profits drove through a show that was actually engaging and entertaining to kids.

At the same time, your animation industry was flush with new money and a desire to not see that snatched away by another 1960s parent panic that killed the Sugar Bear cartoon. So the studios did everything they could to not make the shows the advertisements they were assumed to be. The goal of elevating the project to avoid feeling like an ad-writer also slipped in. You get stuff like Real Ghostbusters, Spiral Zone, Bravestarr, some very impressively animated and written shows...

And before that, remember, was Jabberjaw, Huckleberry Hound, and fucking Clutch Cargo.

Yes, that is a pair of human lips projected onto a blank face because they couldn't afford animation.

And everything that wasn't a toy-toon had to have a bigger budget to compete. You don't get Thundarr the Barbarian until HB has He-Man breathing down its neck. There is no Le Mondes Engloitis if they don't have the merch wave washing over France. The Disney Afternoon was only what it was because it was trying to contrast itself from the figure aisle.

There is no BTAS or Gargoyles without the action figures.

New Google makes searching for the quote basically impossible, but one of the leads on G.I.Joe has a quote along the lines of: the fantasy of G.I.Joe was not a war fantasy. The fantasy of G.I.Joe was the idea that when you get in trouble, you have a large group of friends who will be there to help you through it.

And one last dirty little secret. Before they could make cartoons based on toys the toy market was still driven by licensed stuff, it was just stuff based on live action properties:

The 80s are seen as this time in which kids were deeply exploited, and all the money made in the kidvid and toy industries is seen as the evidence of that. The idea that the boom happened, even in part, because kids were actually getting media and toys they wanted never occurs to them.

And what did youtube make into the face of kid's entertainment?

If the YT kidverse had to deal with the regulations and rules of 1980s advertising cartoons none of that would have happened.

No one wants what these guys are selling.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Stern Talk

Author's note: This is the next installment of the Bully(ing) Cato Sicarius fic! First. Previous. Next. This chapter was beta-read by @sistersofthelobotomy

warnings: body horror, medical quarantine,

tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Summary: Titus swiftly escorts you away from the monstrous amalgamation of machine and flesh, and you talk with one of the sergeants.

You were baffled when, as soon as the final opponent came into view, Titus and the other Ultramarines watching Cato fight in the arena that the leaders of this system had brought you to in order to watch the fights immediately began moving. Titus himself swept you up into his arms, bundling you close to his chest with one arm and ordering you in a low voice to “Stay close and hold on. I am going to be moving quickly. The situation has gotten dangerously out of hand, my lady.”

“What’s going on?” You ask, looking up into his helmeted face. If you squint, you can just see through his helmet lenses and get a glimpse at his face. Titus’ expression is tense and unhappy, and his fellow Ultramarines are in the process of swiftly gathering up the rest of the noncombatants and bringing them to Maccrage’s Honor.

Titus did not put you down, after he rushed you to one of the massive ship’s ramps. His long legs made getting up the ramp much faster than if he had set you down. He reached for the bulkhead when one of the other Ultramarines - a sergeant from the red paint on his helmet, and also of the second company from the markings on his armor spoke up, coming up next to where Titus was standing, still holding onto you protectively

“Sir, the codex astartes clearly states that -”

“Father has ordered that the quarantine procedures for our diplomatic staff, as well as for the Ultramarines exposed to the entity happen within Maccrage’s Honor’s medical bays. We cannot trust that the local population hasn’t been entirely corrupted and poisoned by the same essence that twisted the thing that Captain Sicarius is currently valiantly fighting in single combat to allow the rest of us time to evacuate our people, Sergeant. If you want to discuss possible Codex violations with the one who gave the order, I suggest you speak with Father, who gave us the order to do this himself.” Titus interrupted the sergeant, startlingly terse with the other Ultramarine.

The sergeant flinched back a little, ducking his head a little “As… As you say, sir. You will need to put the mortal down once we reach the medical bay, sir.”

“And I will do so then, sergeant. In the meantime, tend to your own charge. One of them is about to fall off the cargo ramp, Leandros.” Titus grumbled.

That caused the sergeant to mutter a curse as he rushed after the stumbling baseline mortal.

The stumbling mortal failed as their feet slipped off of the edge of the ramp, starting to plunge downward back to the planet below.

The sergeant dragged them back from the side of the ramp and held them around the waist, tucking them into his side as he grabbed another baseline mortal, following you and Titus into Maccrage’s Honor.

~

A short period of time later, you find yourself shivering a little after having scrubbed yourself thoroughly with the mildly caustic soap that the armored Apothecary had handed you to use. You were wearing a thin space-linen dress. The ship always felt a little on the cold side to you when you were in few layers. You wrap your arms around yourself as you patiently wait in the small room that you’d been led to.

Apparently, the horrific amalgamation of flesh and machinery had been significantly tainted by Chaos. While you had only limited exposure to the thing itself, there was a possibility that the Chaos Cult behind this may have tampered with the ceremonial food and drink that you had shared with the leading Magos and their advisors. Which meant that you were going to be held in solitary quarantine while they ran blood sample tests, and one of the Librarians scanned your soul for possible signs of infection.

You didn’t feel any different, but the thought of being unwillingly infected by Chaos, if only a little, caused a terrified shudder to run down your spine. You were willing to wait as long as necessary in order to ensure that your mind, soul and body were untainted by Chaos. You were keenly aware of the Imperial Truth that Lord Guilliman espoused… But the temptation to sink to your knees and begin praying to the God Emperor of Mankind was nearly impossible for you to resist.

You’d been taught the Imperial Faith since you could remember by your teachers, by your birth family. You'd heard it espoused all your life until you’d been chosen as one of Lord Guilliman’s mortal negotiators. The awe and religious reverence you felt towards the Holy Primarch and his Guardian Angels of Death had only faded as your… Interactions with a certain prickly Ultramarine grew more frequent, and you learned the sometimes-subtle shifts in mood of your boss and the Lord Regent, with whom you worked with extensively.

He had bid you to abandon the Imperial Faith for the Imperial Truth that he said was espoused by the Emperor Himself and you obeyed to the best of your abilities. Not all of your fellow diplomats had - especially as there were high ranking members of the Ecclesiarchy aboard the Maccrage’s Honor who fervently believed and preached the Imperial Faith to any who would listen… When outside the hearing of the Primarch.

You were also very keenly aware of the fact that Cato had been left to fight off that monstrosity alone, while the remaining two squads of second company Ultramarines had escorted everyone who couldn’t fight such things away to safety. His military career was long and well-decorated. He had clashed with the forces of chaos and emerged the triumphant, untainted victor in the past. You clung to that thought, and -

There was a knock on the door of the quarantine room you’d been placed in, causing you to startle a little. You walk up to the door and press the intercom button, calling out “Yes, is there something else I need to do?” You were told that the Librarians were currently involved in excising the greater chaos threat from the world that Maccrage’s Honor had landed on. The excising could take anywhere between a few hours to several months to fully exercise. During that time you would have limited contact with others until your soul and mind could be properly checked for signs of Chaos Corruption.

Sargeant Leandros was on the other side of the door. He had removed his helmet, and it was clipped to its proper spot on his belt. The other’s sandy brown hair was a touch longer than regulation, but nothing out of the ordinary. You’ve spoken with him from time to time. He’s quite focused on ensuring that himself and others follow the letter of the Codex closely, rather than thinking flexibly, from what you have observed of him. But he tries hard and seems to care for his brothers greatly. “I wished to speak with you. I have spoken with the Apothecaries. You do not show signs or symptoms of infective Chaos corruption, if indeed you have been tainted by Chaos. May I come in?”

Considering the fact that you’re wearing a simple linen slip, you called out “One moment, please.” as you grabbed the provided blanket, wrapping it around yourself and sitting on the cot in the small room “You may come in. What did you want to speak with me about, Sergeant?”

The Ultramarine opened the door to the room you were quarantining in, stepping in and closing the door behind him. Leandros seemed to fill the rest of the room, huge, especially in his armor. He stared at you for several long, awkward seconds, clearing his throat before averting his gaze for a moment, before looking at you again “I… I wanted to talk to you about some of your… Interactions with Captain Sicarius and Lieutenant Titus.”

You remembered that Leandros had been serving with both Titus and Cato for centuries. You silently wondered if you were going to get a space shovel talk about being careful with the hearts of his older brothers Or Else. Leandros wouldn’t be the only Battle Brother to have stopped by to growl at you suspiciously. Captain Agemann and Sargent Numitor among others had spoken to you, asking about your intentions with Cato and Titus. You had been honest with them, and you planned on being honest with Leandros. “Oh?” You asked, gesturing for him to continue.

The sergeant fidgeted a little, looking visibly awkward and unsure as he started to speak “I am aware of the fact that you have become very close with both aCaptain Sicarius and Lieutenant Titus. They also show a concerning amount of preference towards your safety and well-being, even in scenarios where other factors should command their attention more.” Leandros shifted from foot to foot as he continued to speak “Not that you aren’t a useful member of the diplomatic team. But I am concerned that the off-duty activities you get up to with both of them is affecting their judgment and ability to prioritize objectives properly.”

Well, that’s a new angle. Previously you’d been asked - once at sword point - what were your intentions with the two of them and why you were climbing into their beds and trying to steal their hearts. “Both Captain Sicarius and Lieutenant Titus have served the Imperium as Ultramarines for centuries. Do you truly think that I am able to distract them from their duties to such a degree?” You were genuinely curious as to what his answer would be. You loved them both dearly, but had also sworn oaths as a member of the Imperial Regent’s Diplomatic envoy. You worked hard to make sure that your love life did not conflict with your duties. You were certain that Titus and Cato did the same.

If a scenario came up where they had to choose between you or their duties - even if it meant your death or worse, you fully expected both of them to choose their duties. This thought did not upset you, you were well aware of the fact that the Angels of the Imperium had very serious and rigid duties that they tended to. It was an honor that they’d let you in so close, and you would not betray their trust and care.

“Not yet, but I am concerned that if this… If this flirtation and indulgence in carnal activities continues, they may be swayed when you are put in danger again. And it is a certainty that as long as you are a diplomat for Lord Father, that you will be put into danger regularly, much as we do our best to keep the dangerous element from reaching you and the other diplomatic mortals.” Leandros answered, slightly less tense as he explained himself. “From what I observed, you were the one to make the first… Overt moves, yes? Due to the potential power imbalance between yourself, the captain and lieutenant.”

“If you’re asking if I was the one who confessed feelings first and initiated the conversation about where things were to go, if anywhere in our personal relationships? Then yes. I was.” You respond, tilting your head a little as you look him over searchingly, trying to figure out what his angle was. This didn’t feel like a space shovel talk. You weren’t sure what this was, but it didn’t feel like a nosy younger Astartes trying to gather gossip, or trying to figure out how to woo a mortal he was interested in by going to a mortal in a relationship with older Astartes. Your conversation with Titus had been easier as Cato was… Cato was really bad at figuring out how he felt and hid his softer emotions with rage and aggression. He was getting better about that, but could still become quite aggressive when he felt vulnerable. “But the… Personal interactions I have with Captain Sicarius and Lieutenant Titus in our shared off-time is allowed.” You’d checked before initiating the conversation with Titus in the first place.

You hadn’t wanted to potentially either get him or yourself into trouble for pursuing him romantically. You and Titus had been dating for several months before Cato had stumbled his way into confessing his true feelings. That had been the first of several conversations about wants, needs and expectations.

“Unless it conflicts with their duties. And as you were the one to initiate… If you were the one to… Perhaps put a pause on the.. Off-duty interactions for a little while, to allow them to remember their duties and proper priorities, I feel that it would be for the best.” Leandros informed you, looking at you expectantly.

“You. You want me to what?” You sputter, startled by his audacity. What business was it of his what his superior officers got up to in their free time, as long as it was legal, safe, sane and consensual?

Leandros sighed, shaking his head a little before saying “If you are asking me to be plain, I shall be. I am surprised that you need me to say it directly, given your career of choice. I want you to step away from them socially and physically in your off time that you have been sharing with them. I would rather you not mention that this was requested of you by a Brother for their own sakes as-” the Sergeant hesitated for a couple of moments, clearly trying to pick his words with care “Captain Sicarius in particular is known for being volatile and quick to anger. Lieutenant Titus and I have a fraught history with one another, but I truly only mean the best for them both.”

That admission caused you to narrow your eyes a little up at him. You’d been taken aback by the sargeant’s request to break up with Cato and Titus, but had thought that he was doing so out of a misguided attempt to help his brothers, or protect them from the inevitable heartbreak, given that you were a baseline human and would live to maybe two hundred years or so with longevity treatments and space marines - unless they were killed in battle or stricken with chaos-fueled infections - could live for over a thousand years. But now you weren’t so sure if this wasn’t some sort of attempt at social sabotage.

A fairly clumsy attempt at social sabotage for an Ultramarine. You’d watched a group of Ultramarines run diplomatic circles around more than a couple of stubborn and haughty inquisitors during your time serving alongside them.

But outright saying no to him while in this confined space and it being your word against his if anything did happen… You let out a long sigh, affecting a thoughtful and sad expression on your face as you say “I will think carefully about your advice, sergeant. Thank you for coming to me with your concerns. I’m sure that you have much to do, and should get back to them.”

Leandros smiled brightly at that, reaching out and patting you lightly on the shoulder. “I am glad that you listened to my concerns, miss. I do hope that you make the right decision.” With that he turned and left your quarantine room, leaving you to your thoughts.

[innercreationyouth]

Where the Force leads

Chapter 1 here. | Chapter 3 (which I forgot to add a link to)

Chapter 2. The boy who was so sure.

We're leaning into reluctant and tired dad heavy with this one and I'm all for it.

That one person who left 1 kudos, kudos to you! See what I did there? Ha!

Crouched amidst the crates was a boy, no older than ten. His long, messy dark hair hung in his face, and his piercing blue eyes stared up at Ben with a mix of curiosity and defiance.

“Are you a Jedi Master?” the boy asked, his voice steady despite his precarious situation.

Ben Kenobi sat in the cockpit of the freighter, the swirling blue of hyperspace surrounding him. The Force felt so unnaturally light here, so warm, that he’d found himself uncharacteristically at ease. It reminded him of a time before the war, before the darkness that had consumed everything. The purity of it was almost overwhelming, and he let it envelop him, a rare comfort he hadn’t felt in years.

But then, there was a flicker.

He stiffened, his senses sharpening as a faint presence brushed against his awareness. It wasn’t strong, and the shields around it were sloppy—barely trained. But it was unmistakably there. His heart pounded as paranoia took hold. Who was it? Someone after him? A trap?

Ben rose silently from his seat, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his lightsaber beneath his robes. He followed the presence through the narrow corridors of the freighter, his footsteps light but purposeful. The cargo hold. Of course.

The presence was trying to stay hidden, but its inexperience was evident. Ben pushed open a container lid and froze.

Crouched amidst the crates was a boy, no older than ten. His long, messy dark hair hung in his face, and his piercing blue eyes stared up at Ben with a mix of curiosity and defiance.

“Are you a Jedi Master?” the boy asked, his voice steady despite his precarious situation.

Ben blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. He lowered the lid slightly but didn’t take his eyes off the child. “Who are you? Where are your parents?”

The boy ignored the question, leaning forward. “You are a Jedi Master, aren’t you?”

Ben sighed, his patience already fraying. “That’s not important. What are you doing here? Why did you sneak onto this ship?”

The boy tilted his head, studying Ben intently. “You didn’t say no,” he pointed out. “You are a Jedi Master.”

Ben closed his eyes briefly, willing himself to stay calm. The situation was absurd. “Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this isn’t a place for children. You need to tell me where you came from.”

The boy crossed his arms, a stubborn set to his jaw. “I’m going with you.”

Ben stared at him, affronted. “You most certainly are not. I’m hardly good company for a child, and this—” he gestured around the hold, “—isn’t a rescue mission.”

The boy’s expression didn’t change. “You’d still be better than my teacher.”

Ben paused, his brows knitting together. “Your teacher? Who’s your teacher?”

The boy hesitated, then muttered, “Everyone calls her the Dark Woman.”

The words hit Ben like a blow, his mind racing. The Dark Woman. He knew of her, of course—a mysterious, elusive Jedi Master who had trained some of the Order’s most unusual and unconventional students. If this boy was her apprentice, then that meant...

“What’s your name?” Ben asked, his voice careful.

The boy hesitated again, lowering his gaze. “I don’t deserve a name yet,” he said quietly.

Ben’s breath caught. That response was enough to confirm his suspicion. Jon Antilles. A name as common as grains of sand, a placeholder until one earned the right to something greater. It was a philosophy as old as the Jedi Order itself, and one that only someone trained by the Dark Woman would adopt.

The boy looked up at him, his blue eyes shining with determination. “The Force says I should stay with you.”

Ben stared at him, incredulous. "The Force what?"

“It told me,” the boy said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the galaxy. “I’m supposed to go with you.”

Ben took a step back, his mind reeling. “Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “I’m not... I’m not taking on a student. I’m not even—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “No. This isn’t happening.”

The boy stood, his small frame straight and unyielding. “It’s what the Force wants.”

Ben threw up his hands, his frustration bubbling over. “Of course it is,” he muttered. “Because the Force just loves meddling, doesn’t it?” He paced a few steps, running a hand through his hair. “First, it sends me halfway across the galaxy on a fool’s errand, and now it wants me to babysit?”

The boy didn’t move, his expression as calm as it was infuriating. “The Force brought us together for a reason.”

Ben turned to glare at him, his voice sharp. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to,” the boy said simply. “The Force does.”

Ben groaned, leaning heavily against a crate. He could feel the truth of the boy’s words, the same quiet pull that had guided him to this ship, this journey. But that didn’t make it any less infuriating.

For a long moment, they stood in silence, the boy’s unwavering gaze locked onto Ben’s. Finally, Ben exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging.

“Fine,” he said reluctantly. “You can stay. For now. But this doesn’t mean anything.”

The boy smiled faintly, a hint of triumph in his eyes. “Thank you, Master.”

“Don’t call me that,” Ben snapped, already regretting his decision.

As he turned to leave the cargo hold, he felt the boy’s presence following him, small but steady, a faint echo of the light in the Force that had surrounded him since this journey began.

The Force has a strange sense of humor, he thought bitterly.

The days in hyperspace passed in relative silence, broken only by the hum of the freighter's engines. Jon—if he could even be called that yet—was quiet in a way that Ben found almost distressing. It wasn’t the watchful silence of someone scheming or plotting; it was simply an absence, as though the boy was barely there at all. He moved soundlessly through the ship, rarely spoke, and often sat in some corner of the cargo hold, staring into nothing.

It was unnerving.

Ben, who had grown accustomed to solitude, found himself frustrated by the boy's lack of presence. He would catch himself forgetting the boy was even aboard, only to be startled when he appeared at his side or quietly moved past him. It was too much like a ghost.

Finally, one evening, as Ben sat tinkering with the ship’s navigation systems, he broke the silence.

“I can’t just keep calling you ‘boy,’” he said without looking up.

The boy, sitting cross-legged on the floor, shrugged. “I don’t care.”

Ben frowned. “You don’t care?”

“The Dark Woman said names don’t matter for Jedi,” the boy said matter-of-factly. “We don’t need them to serve the Force.”

Ben paused, his hands stilling on the console. He looked at the boy, who stared back with a blank expression that somehow felt too old for his young face. “That’s a very lonely existence,” Ben said softly.

The boy tilted his head, as if considering this. Then, with the air of reciting a mantra, he said, “The Force provides.”

The words sent a sharp pang through Ben’s chest, unbidden memories stirring. He was reminded of his own early years as a padawan, of sitting in silence in austere training rooms, waiting for a word of praise or approval that never came. Qui-Gon Jinn had been distant and strict, always focused on the bigger picture. Ben had often felt like an afterthought in those early days, just another instrument for the Jedi cause.

He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Well, I need to call you something. And unless you have a suggestion, I’ll call you Jon.”

The boy shrugged again, his expression unreadable. “That’s fine.”

“Good,” Ben said, though he didn’t feel particularly satisfied. He studied the boy for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the Temple on Coruscant? The Jedi there could help you—”

“No,” Jon interrupted, his tone firm but calm. “Your task is more important.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, his frustration simmering. “I don’t even know what my task is.”

Jon looked at him evenly, his voice steady. “I don’t need to know what it is. My task is to help you.”

Ben groaned, running a hand over his face. The boy’s unwavering conviction was both impressive and maddening. And all the while, Jon kept referring to him as “Master,” a title that made Ben’s skin crawl. He hadn’t agreed to take on a padawan—he wasn’t even sure he was worthy of being called a Jedi anymore.

“Stop calling me that,” Ben said sharply one evening after Jon had used the title yet again.

Jon looked up at him, unperturbed. “What else should I call you?”

“Just Ben,” he replied, exasperated.

Jon said nothing, but Ben could see the doubt in his eyes. It was clear the boy wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

After a long pause, Ben crossed his arms. “Did you even tell the Dark Woman you were leaving her?”

Jon’s lips twitched, almost a smirk. “She’ll know when she doesn’t see me.”

Ben stared at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and annoyance. “That’s not how it works.”

Jon shrugged, his tone carrying a faint edge of sarcasm. “It worked for me.”

Ben shook his head, turning away before his temper got the better of him. The boy’s presence was a puzzle, one he hadn’t asked for and wasn’t sure how to solve. The Force had clearly brought Jon into his path, but for what purpose?

As much as he hated to admit it, Jon was becoming a part of his journey. And no matter how much he grumbled or protested, Ben knew he couldn’t send him away.

Not yet.

Ben leaned against the small table in the freighter's galley, his thoughts a tangle of frustration and reluctant curiosity. Jon sat cross-legged on the floor near the wall, as still as a statue, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. The boy’s quietness gnawed at Ben—it was unnatural for someone so young.

Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he frowned. “Have you been eating these past few days?”

Jon blinked, his expression calm but vaguely puzzled, as if the question hadn’t occurred to him. “I’ve been taking ration bars from storage,” he said simply.

Ben nodded, relieved but feeling awkward. He should have checked on that sooner—children were supposed to be looked after, fed, guided. But Jon didn’t act like a child in need of care. He acted like... something else entirely.

Ben cleared his throat, feeling the silence stretching uncomfortably between them. “I, uh, don’t think I introduced myself,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Ben. Ben Kenobi.”

Jon didn’t react, his expression unchanging. It was as if the name didn’t matter to him in the slightest, and perhaps it didn’t.

After a moment, Jon finally spoke, his voice steady. “When does my training start?”

Ben froze, staring at the boy. “Your training?”

Jon nodded.

Ben felt a flash of irritation rise in him. “I didn’t promise to teach you. I only allowed you to stay aboard because—” He paused, uncertain of the exact reason. Because the Force had willed it? Because the boy seemed destined to cross his path? “Because you didn’t leave me much of a choice,” he finished.

Jon remained unfazed, his expression betraying no doubt. “You’ll teach me,” he said, as though it were an indisputable fact.

Ben sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re awfully sure of yourself for someone who stowed away on a ship without a name.”

The faintest hint of a smile ghosted across Jon’s lips, but he didn’t respond.

Ben sat down heavily in the chair across from him, his gaze searching the boy’s face. “Why are you so certain I’ll train you?”

Jon’s eyes met his, calm and unwavering. “Because the Force says so.”

Ben groaned, leaning back in his seat. “The Force says a lot of things, apparently.”

Jon didn’t argue, but his silence carried a quiet assurance that made Ben’s frustration bubble up again. The boy had an unnerving certainty about him, a sense of purpose that reminded Ben too much of himself at that age—eager, idealistic, and utterly unshakable in his belief in the Force.

For a moment, Ben considered arguing further, but he stopped himself. The truth was, he didn’t know what the Force had planned for either of them. Perhaps Jon was right. Perhaps he was meant to train the boy, to guide him. Or perhaps this was all some cosmic mistake.

He sighed again, rubbing his temples. “We’ll see,” he muttered, though he doubted Jon would accept the answer.

Jon said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes. In his mind, the decision had already been made.

[redlenai]

I grabbed one of my ocs and put it in Mouthwashing lol. And oh god I'm about to make things WORSE ((Mind you, this is not my Oc's actual personality, I just dolled him up for the setting))

Derek Dwyn O'Uaithne 22yo | Capricorn | Nusing assistant | Purple text

This is his first cargo, Pony Express hasn't given him a proper program like Anya, so he is supposed to learn under her wing, she couldn't say no as this would be a bonus on her pay. He was going to be the 5th member for the Tulpar. Daisuke was still added last minute (This version of the Tulpar has 5 bedrooms and cryopods) At first glance, he is a cheerful boy, positive and always with a bright smile, he seems unbothered by the sleeping schedule and adapts quickly to rules, thrilled to go to space for the very first time...

However, that's not the reason why he joined the Company. Two years prior, Derek was stalking Jimmy, for some reason he got fascinated by the older man at the point of obsession, after discovering he was struggling financially (And knowing where he lived), he was planning to ambush him and corner him so he would accept some quality time with him in exchange of money, however, the night in the bar he was supposed to make direct contact, Curly was there as well. He listened to their conversation about joining Pony Express, that lead to a year without being able to stalk Jimmy, as he was on space. When he returned, Derek noticed he was worse than when he left, so he wanted to make sure to go too so he won't miss it.

He has no particular intention to "fix Jimmy", nor help him out really, he just wants him, to own him, and will do anything in his power to do so. Its a twisted arousal tho, he would use endearment words and even claim that he loves him deeply. His own obsession doesn't give him a clear idea either of what he feels, if a need to conquer or for his twisted adoration to be requited.

😔🔪 🩸⭑︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀 ⭑︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶⭑😔🔪 🩸︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀

Relationships:

Curly: Feels tremendous hatred and jealousy towards him, for being the closest person to Jimmy and for taking him far away for a whole year (ruining his plans) // Superficially, acts respectful and friendly towards the Captain on a formal basis.

Anya: Doesn't like her presence at the Tulpar at all, considering her a potential rival // Superficially, acts like a companion and an attentive apprentice

Swansea: Has no interest on him whatsoever except for the fact he feels envious that Swan is "Owned and Owner" by noticing his wedding ring // Superficially, admires his mechanical skills and acts respectfully, still keeping his distance

Daisuke: While close in age, considers him annoying, especially by their first interaction when Daisuke tried to flirt with him, thinking he was a girl // Superficially, acts like a buddy, listening and laughing to his jokes with mild teasing

Jimmy: Overly friendly with him, and even invading on his personal space. He is so fascinated with him, he doesn't have a superficial personality for him, but surely tones down his obsessive and stalkish behavior. Has no issue courting the older man, admiring him as Co-Pilot and to think about him when he becomes Captain

During the first months, Jimmy has noticed the uneasy feeling of being stalked, slowly turning into a bit of paranoia. Mostly, a feeling that he couldn't cut ties with Earth to escape his problems. At first it was a bit overwhelming to be around someone that gave him the words that he wanted, even considering them mocking, Jimmy slowly began to let the nursing assitant getting closer during game nights and daily activities as the behavior persisted and Derek didn't ask him for anything.

I imagined two scenarios for this AU (Which I call NyanAU*) *It's creation being inspired on Nyan by Maretu

😔🔪 🩸⭑︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀 ⭑︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶⭑😔🔪 🩸︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀

Good? Route: The night where Jimmy tried to go to Anya's room he was confronted by Derek who was standing on HIS door. Derek is aware of what Jimmy was about to do, he has been watching him very closely, so closely, and uses that to walk him to the Lounge. Where Derek tells him a little secret about himself and that Jimmy could do him the favor of ignoring what's in front of him and blow some steam together. In shorter words, Derek is intersex, and offers Jimmy to Nyan Nyan Nyan with him. Derek even lets Jimmy call him by female pronouns, as he doesn't have any issue with them, anything goes as long they are having fun. She could be Jimmy's nurse for the night, while he could be her Captain.

Derek manages to do Jimmy's psych evals, which is one of the things he was interested the most in obtaining, it didn't took much to convince Anya to leave the work to her apprentice and after successfuly getting closer to Jimmy, to be able to get him to "open up". Obviously, without him realizing that the Evals werent' as useless as he thought... at least in the hands of this nursing assitant.

The rest of the journey goes normally, only with a few things happening. Everyone realizes there is something going on between them and even Daisuke has see them being a bit touchy in certain rooms of the Tulpar, Anya worrying for her apprentice as Derek is almost 10 years younger than Jimmy, that didn't last long after the blonde very subtly tells her he has been "admiring him from afar for quite a while to just let him go". Swansea doesn't get involved but has confided in Daisuke and Curly that Jimmy has stuck his dick in crazy.

Curly has began to realize that Jimmy no longer spends much time with him, or that their friendship isn't as close. While he is happy to see his friend "better", and with a partner that is so in love with him, he can't brush off some warning signs that maybe, he'll end up rescuing his friend from yet another mess he caused by himself.

Jimmy clearly likes the attention, the encouraging words doesn't feel empty and the sex is great, his mood and work performance is even better. Derek can't wait to drag this man to his apartment and lock him inside, doesn't seem that Jimmy would mind. He'll see how far he'll go with him once they are back on Earth, Derek has savings and his apartment belongs to him, he has no issue finding new jobs or having lots of friends and connections, despite he is not interested in them and only keeps superficial boundaries, he wants to see what Jimmy will do now "trapped in Heaven". Be it UP or DOWN, Derek goes with what he wants at the moment.

😔🔪 🩸⭑︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀 ⭑︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶⭑😔🔪 🩸︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀

Canon Route: By following the canon events of the game, in this timeline Derek doesn't realize what Jimmy was going to do to Anya. As he kept his distant for a bit in order to don't raise suspicion, he missed on the signs, after all, he only cares about Jimmy, not the rest of the crew or what happens around him. So, the events of the game still happen.

After the crash, Derek is the first one to switch and call Jimmy, Captain. Following his rules and even offering to give Curly his medication, without anyone around he just forces the meds on Curly's throat almost similarly to how Jimmy does canonically, his obsession now overlapping as he wishes Curly would just die already, in contrast to Anya, he considers Curly the real monster for convincing Jimmy to join Pony Express, instead of letting him fall on his trap for him, he is also giving him more than the recommended dose Anya ordered, so he would die of an overdose or will run out of meds faster.

Now after the crash, he keeps his smile "to stay strong and positive" however its clear now that he has a screw loose considering their situation. His compliments sound condescending to the rest to the crew except for Jimmy, who he still treats affectionately.

Swansea is the first one to start treating him just like how he treats Jimmy, no authority nor respect. Meanwhile Daisuke starts to keep his distance, Anya on the other hand, while scared of Jimmy, has a bit of trust on Derek who she confides about what Jimmy did to her, the SA and the pregnancy.

During a blind jealous rage* induced by Mouthwash, he is the one that destroys the Polle Statue and subtly begins to sink the idea on Anya to kill herself by an overdose.

*I based this on pick-me-girl behaviors and sexist possesive woman who don't realize the weight of a situation especially when said horrible thing could happen to them, a lack of empathy and total disregard for the victim.

When Anya locked herself on MedBay, Derek let Jimmy and Daisuke take care of the situation, cleaning his hands from the incident by "watching over poor Swansea, to make sure the spiked drink didn't do much harm"

After Daisuke dies, he helps Jimmy to tie up Swansea to the chair, he also listens to the old man's speech, tho he really doesn't care nor even blinks when Jimmy pulls the trigger.

Now that its the two of them, plus Curly. Derek finally starts expressing the rage and jealousy he felt towards the others on Jimmy, then start with bigger delusions, that he should have assaulted him first at the bar, at his house, so many ocassions, that he loved seeing him squirm on his paranoia of being watched, to how dare to go to Anya when the one that was always touching him and trying to get his attention was him, that there was nothing to worry about, he could have bought Anya's silence with money, good money so she wouldn't have to let go of her dreams while he got Jimmy's kid. But no, he had to try to fix everything, as if broken things aren't beautiful as they were and despite things were so fun and he loved his time with him, it wasn't enough, now it was time to get rid of one last annoyance before they could finally enjoy their time together.

So, in an attempt to prevent Curly from dying at Derek's hands, Jimmy ends up killing Derek, this time no "indirectly", "accidentaly" nor "for self-defense". He impaled him to a rusty nail, calling him a crazy bitch.

With his last breath, Derek just admits that he wasn't only obsessed with Jimmy

"I hated it... when I didn't get what I wanted...

I knew it... you were the same...

I love you...

But he won...

Long... long... ago...

His leg tasted awful... next... time... let me taste...

your heart..."

Then the game ends just like in Canon, Jimmy kills himself and Curly ends up in the cryopod.

😔🔪 🩸⭑︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀 ⭑︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶⭑😔🔪 🩸︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀

So welp, I had that much so far and with the drawings lmao. Some random bits of my Derek:

Doesn't have family, nor a specific background to justify why he is the way he is nor why or how he specifically got obsessed with Jimmy

I originally considered making Derek the reason why Jimmy lost his previous job (As a plot twist), but I don't have any ideas for it either.

Cat person

Has a sweet tooth, but prefer strong flavors like 90% cocoa

He is on BC, so he doesn't worry about needing to change plans

Has a dry sense of humor

Despite his overly romantic and corny behavior after getting Jimmy's attention, he is not particulary into romantic things such as movies or books

The apartment he owns is quite big, just a bit old fashioned (Kind of like a Brooklyn apartment)

Due to his impulsive nature, he has a tendency for stealing

Doesn't need to wear bras but has them whenever he wants to feel pretty

Used to do modeling

He doesn't learn something unless it interests him or needs it in order to get something that he wants

Is a terrible cook

Is allergic to makeup

In a "Nothing bad happens" AU his personality wouldn't have been dolled up, so you could say that his fancharacter personality is OOC, my Derek is actually a helplessly romantic introvert, bookworm, used to being responsible and independent, very maternal but still with an attraction to dark haired man with bad boy looks. So yeah, still crushing hard on Good!Jimmy, who just views him as a little sibling. So unrequited love until the very end lmao.

[wishjacked]

my webcomic's volume 1 kickstarter ENDS in THREE DAYS!!!!!!!! so I am telling you guys about my comic as frankly as I can HAHAHA!!

Cargo is about smugglers. They live in a version of Florida where, post zombie-apocalypse, the government went INSANE and made everything illegal... like they made "wearing excessive amounts of the color red" a fineable offense I'm not kidding around, EVERYTHING is illegal. More things:

Enter SJ Khan, a woman with a brain that can only invent rube goldberg machine style solutions to her problems. She enlists an old friend to help her start a smuggling company and the two of them round up a crew that's just seeping with soap-opera levels of drama.

This comic is based on a comic I drew a little over 1 decade ago. It's about living with strangers, about what you choose to look at or are allowed to look at, and most importantly it's about watching weird guys doing unpredictable things. It is funny. I am learning how to draw Florida for it, here, look:

I call it an "evil sitcom". Someone once described it as using "hey i'm not 100% sure you can have a main character do that" comedy... and that feels right to me too.

It's an ensemble cast, but the story centers around a team of smugglers. I love this cast so much, they're all so strange and it's so fun to write all their various quirks crashing into each other. Here's a (only slightly outdated) height chart of the entire extended cast.

You know the weird relationships you get with coworkers, where you're forced to be near them and cooperate with them on some level for most of your waking hours regardless of how you feel about them? That's what we're dealing with here. I had a review describe it as "not found family, but found acquaintances" which. Yeah. Exactly. 😂😂

Some characters and relationships you can expect to see in Cargo:

An absolute mess of a man who micromanages his entire crew but especially the FIFTEEN YEAR OLD (!!!!!!) INDENTURED SERVANT (!!!!!!????????!!!!!!!!!!) (HELP HELP HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) (AHHHHHHHH WHY DID I LEAD WITH THIS ONE!!!!!!!)

This old guy who works for them has MASSIVE MASSIVE beef with the boss lady because 10 years ago she framed him for a crime he didn't commit which caused him to be in prison for years and years. But for some reason they still care about each other.

You know that tweet that's like "a job will have you..." wait I can just find the tweet and show you guys. This one

Well anyways. Cargo has that one. It's between a guy who is a medical celebrity because he got the zombie parasite and then got cured and a very nice very violent old lady. They are the ship goofballs they are also probably the two most actively dangerous people here LMAO

This kid who loves his cat and is doing his best to avoid give a single drop of his precious energy to engaging with the rest of these clowns.

One of the characters did something that made my readers say this.

I could go on but this post is so long already. So instead, links.

You can read it online on Comic Fury or Tapas!

And here's my Kickstarter link again!

Here's art I drew of the crew ~8 years ago. A sincere thank you for looking at this post, godspeed and goodnight!