#star warrior program

[nintendonut1]

Three kofi sketches, all for @danmat6288!

-Twink runs into Sprout and Flick on his Star Haven tour (a scene from a fic in the AU)

-DTIYS of a panel of my choice from "Starry Knight & Twinkling Squire"

-DTIYS of a panel of my choice from "Never Lie to a Telepath"

[mathewharris7703]

"Time passed a little bit after Willow were healed by the powers of the plants. Though he was fully-healed from that terrible meteor spell that torn him to pieces, he was still trying to get used to his new form, or in this case, his star form. Willow found it to be a little difficult with flying about in space and in the Star Road, making the poor guy feeling down-hearted. Geno noticed this and felt really bad for him. As the leader of the Star Warrior Program, he knows that this was his responsiblity to help with Willow getting used back among the stars and he knew a way how.

He took the bright star with the orange like scar to a part in space where consolations were being made. From the crab to the Big Dipper. Speaking with the stars, the stars aligned with each other and created a grid like consolation, one that looked like from the game 'Hopscotch'. Willow was surprised, hopscotch is a children's game? How would that work, he thought? But then he sees Geno bouncing from one grid to the other in a simple pattern up and down. He motioned Willow to do the same, saying it will help with getting used to his form again. He was right; Willow cautiously and slowly bounced from grid to grid with Geno over and over again. They both found it to be very fun! The two continued to play hopscotch among the consolations over and over again and slowly but surely, Willow would get back used to flying about in his star form, a lot more easily." Art by @nintendonut1 Part (maybe???) of The Star Warrior Program AU

[mr-avocado-man7]

did this instead of working on my past due art projects

^ this is what it’s in reference to btw please do not take this seriously 😭😭😭😭

[danmat6288]

Starry Knight & Twinkling Squire

[candystudios]

My recent contributions to @nintendonut1 ‘s Star Warrior Program AU with my OC Stella

[lagomorphpaw]

off caffeine on doctor's orders

[hoshinomulti]

❝ me want cakey, poyo! Do you have cakey, poyo? Me is weally (really) hungy! (Hungry) ❞

[pwrn51]

Supporting Veterans: Inside Veteran's Last Patrol

Betsy’s special guest is Eagle Scout and Retired Colonel Claude Schmid, who served 31 years in the United States Army. During his distinguished military career, Claude held seven command positions and completed two tours in Iraq, earning two bronze stars. He served three years as the Chief of the Army’s Wounded Warrior Flight Program. Driven by the belief that no veteran should spend their final…

[quasi-normalcy]

Here's the 100% accurate Vibes-based way to recognise evil people based on simple traits:

Their eyes look different seen in different lighting

Do they have eybrows? Narcissist trait.

They switch between different codes of communication depending on who they're talking to (only psychopaths do this)

They make you feel oogy

If you're mean to them, they cry. Manipulator behaviour

Sometimes they smile with only part of their mouths

They avoid eye contact. Also they seem to be really into trains and the Star Trek franchise

They try to gaslight you into believing that making snap judgements about peopple based on vibes is "rationally indefensible" and " deleterious to the health of society". Manipulator behaviour

They try to convince you that my "Evil b Gone" twelve-step lifecoaching program for developing your Light Warrior Empath Skills (now available for the low price of $59.99/mo) is "literally a pyramid scheme" and "sounds kind of like a cult"

When you were a kid they didn't show you proper love and affection. Like for example, maybe--maybe you had a little league game or something and it was the big game and you were at bat and they said they would be there and then they---they just weren't and they said it was because they were called away buit you could smell cheap liquor on their breath and the scent of their secretary;s perfume and why couldn't they have just guivenb me a little love and affection that;s all i wnated oh god dad why didn't ypou love me why whwy why why

They're Scorpios

[jymwahuwu]

Food for thought, High-cloud Quintet era:

Jing Yuan, Dan Feng and Yingxing helping their innocent Darling (same darling bc its fun!) with "Stamina and Flexibility" training fwhile (and esp when) they have darling assist them in their work after a certain Sword Champion turned their request to be a disciple down for the nth time.

To make it more fun, there is no fixed schedule plan as in order to be a warrior, one must always be prepared to deal with unexpected situations after all:

- Dodging random and unexpected tendrils made of water by a certain high elder to test ones reflexes.

-Maintaining their concentration when meditating whilst being strapped down on a... "concentration training" machine made by a certain blade smith.

-Maintaining concentration and ability to strategize whilst being folded into different poses during a match of star chess with a languid Lieutenant.

For example, whilst also having to assist them while they work. They are busy people, you can't expect them to take time off their schedule to dedicate it to training you alone, would you?

-one of the peeps who hunts the comments section

This is so delicious, I immediately thought of what that would be like… 😌🫶

-CW: yandere, abuse of trust, overstimulation, sex machine

You are so naive and innocent... You are all focused on how to improve your strength and contribution, and you don't realize that there is something wrong with their "training"…

Dan Feng:

Imbibitor Lunae has the ability to manipulate water, weave rain and dew, create storms, and even split seawater, so training with water is really something you can expect. You just didn't expect…High Elder's training to be so…random. From HSR's description, we can know that Vidyadhara possesses a technology called cloudhymn magic, which can make them almost completely invisible and appear quietly around people. So… you were attacked completely randomly.

The water occasionally sprays onto your underwear, wetly revealing the shape of your sexual organs inside. You squirmed uncomfortably and closed your legs to avoid others noticing that water was dripping between your legs for no reason… You didn't want to be thought of as a weirdo who was in heat anytime and anywhere…

Dan Feng didn't even come to you on purpose. He showed no emotion when he did this. The High Elder sometimes wiggles his fingertips a little and your underwear is soaked, and then he goes to have lunch and deal with the daily affairs of Vidyadhara. Sometimes, your chest will also get wet, causing two puddles of water on the clothes on your chest. It's so embarrassing! You have to cross your arms over your chest to cover it up and then go change.

But…the "training" that requires taking off clothes is different. Dan Feng asks you to remain still. For an hour continuously, the warm water sprays on your private parts, the effect is like masturbation in the shower… You have to resist moving. This is a challenge of endurance and willpower…

Yingxing:

This talented weapon forger has gained a good reputation most of the time… Many people have commented that he is arrogant, but Yingxing does have the qualifications of "arrogance".

You trust Yingxing. He is so sweet and builds those weapons for you for free. He put decorations on the weapons he gave you and engraved them with beautiful patterns that suit you.

So… Even though Yingxing gave you that weird "concentration training" machine, you accepted it. That machine is automated…or it operates according to the program created by Yingxing, with more than ten modes.

In the normal mode, you only need to sit on the dildo of the machine (what Yingxing did not tell you is that the shape of the dildo is according to his…), and be penetrated deeply and trembled at the frequency of thrusting. This machine always seeks out your sensitive spots and stimulates them long-lasting and thoroughly. In full mode, your hands and legs are immobilized, and your nipples are caressed and rubbed for constant overstimulation.

Yingxing asks for your feedback and improves the machine. Maybe you should consider some suggestions…

Jing Yuan:

Jing Yuan coaxes you - this is about concentration and strategic skills training. If you can't strategize without interruption, you will suffer defeat in combat. He's just doing it for your own good. This…sounds reasonable?

At least once a day, you have to play chess with Jing Yuan, but the distraction is that you have to sit on his cock and fiddle with the chess pieces. He unbuttoned his pants and took out his fat cock, which was erect. He held his chin, narrowed his eyes and smiled, urging you to sit up. It took you a lot of courage to sit on it for the first time, and the unfamiliar cock almost split you open. So…thick and long. You moaned softly with every inch he thrust in, and his thumb rubbed your private parts to help lubricate you. Sitting completely on it is a terrifying experience. Pleasure bewilders and corrupts your brain…

Maybe this is what Jing Yuan meant by "training"? About whether you can focus on strategizing.

Of course you are… unable to focus. It collapsed in a few steps. Your fingertips tremble as you place the chess pieces. The brain cannot think about the next strategy and route…

After a few months, you get better at it, a little bit, but every time you get close to reaching "victory," you're screaming and bouncing on the general's cock, missing the chance of "victory" in orgasm...

[nintendonut1]

Designed this fit for Geno as the leader of the Star Warrior Program AU that Willow's a part of, but it's cool and snazzy and I like it and you all deserve it as a treat for being so patient with me <3

[forcemeanakin]

Hot with brains

•WARNINGS: SMUT.  Fingering (f receiving), oral fixation, dirty talk, praise kink and also degrading kink, corruption kink kinda??? Edging. Public space. The OC has a kink that attracts her to smart guys.

Pairing: ROTS!Anakin Skywalker x Female!reader.

Summary: Anakin falls for the librarian at the Jedi Temple, however, he soon realizes his adorable smile and golden curls won’t cut it with this one. No, she likes something different: brains. 

Word count: 4.7K. 

A/N: Pretty self-indulgent piece. I've been obsessed with Anakin's engineering brain ever since I got into Star Wars and this idea had be floating around for a whileeeee. Hope you all enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it!

————————————————————————

You liked smart guys. 

It wasn’t a kink per sé. You just couldn’t see yourself hooking up with someone with no brains, let alone establishing a committed relationship with them. You were swoon by guys with deep thoughts and admirable speech skills. The type of man that would go for a whisky instead of a beer, or use real shoes instead of plain sneakers.

You being a snob might have to do with your upbringing, after all you were the daughter of two scholars and professors of one of the most prestigious universities of Coruscant. You were raised to be logical and love intellectual conversations. You wouldn’t- No. You couldn’t see yourself enjoying a space with someone with a low IQ.

That was the reasoning behind taking the internship in the Jedi Temple’s library as part of your college voluntary program. You had to volunteer a certain amount of hours in order to graduate from your Journalism degree with honors. 

You thought that even though this wasn’t exactly the area in which you were specializing, you would soak up some of the ancient knowledge of the Order, even make some great connections for the future. And so far it has been just that: A great experience. You got to read some really cool books and in the hours where no one would come, you got to finish some school work. The Jedi who would visit the library were nice and kind, always polite with a big smile. You even grew really fond of a young Togruta padawan that would spend her breaks in between training devouring books. 

It was calm and quiet. 

Until the storm broke through the door.

“Is this the one you’re looking for?” You yelled to Ahsoka as you climbed down the stairs with the title she asked for.

“Yes! Thank you, y/n!” She gave you a hug and ran to her table to start reading about the swamps in Dagobah.

You returned to your desk and kept registering the book’s codes into the control sheet when a loud sound made you look to the door, the one that was violently being thrown to open room for a tall, curly-haired man with dark robes.

You would recognize those robes anywhere. In reality, anyone from any point of the galaxy would recognize them.

Anakin Skywalker. 

One of the few exceptions of Jedi men who didn’t live up to the sophisticated standard of the Order’s image. And definitely someone you would prefer to stay away from. For some reason he was the favorite warrior of the people; the citizens would line up in front of the Temple to scream “Hero with no fear” to that pretentious douchebag.

He was fine. 

As what most people would call courageous, you would say careless. To others he was passionate, to you he was irrational. Not to mention how idiotic and unsubordinated he was; always talking back and doing things his way, ignoring what the guidelines said.

You didn’t like him. You didn’t like him at all. For that you were thankful that he never set foot into your sacred place. Until that doomed day.

“C’mon, Snips.” He shouted, approaching the desk where she sat. “We need to go. Council just called.”

“Can I have five more minutes? I’ve barely read anything about where we are going!” Ahsoka whined.

“You don’t need to read anything, we will find out anything that’s necessary there.” He huffed, finding his apprentice’s actions ridiculous. 

You quietly sighed and rolled my eyes. Of course.

“Fine… but y/n really took her time fetching it for me.” She exhaled annoyed and closed the book. 

Your eyes remained glued to your task at hand, not willing to look up and be involved in some type of pending argument.

“Who’s y/n?” Anakin scoffed rather loudly.

“Y/n! The volunteer?” Anakin frowned at the short explanation and shook his head in a negative motion. “You know, y/n! C’mon Skyguy, follow me.”

No, please no, you whispered to your insides.

“Hey, y/n!” You heard Ahsoka’s little footsteps running to where you were. 

“What can I do for you, Soka?” You answered, still pretending that you were too busy to move your head from its position.

“Skyguy hasn’t met you. Here, Anakin, y/n. She helps us out here in the library.”

“Ahsoka, we’re not supposed to be having social meetings, we need to go-” You finally gazed up and in that moment, Anakin and you made eye contact for the first time; it was intense. It felt like something clicked for him. “You must be Y/n.” Anakin shook his head lightly, hinting a little smirk as leaned over your table with fixed eyes. 

Hell, no.

“Yes, I am. How may I help you?” You were bitter, totally unbothered by his chiseled cheekbones, or his gorgeous hair, or his plumped lips. Not even the scar had any effect whatsoever. He was an ass and that was automatically a turn off for you. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t met you. You must be new.” He explained with dreamy eyes, subtly checking you out. You cursed the moment you decided to come in today with a blouse who had a bit of a cleavage. “I’m Anakin. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Actually, I’ve been here for almost two months now.” You suppressed the soul-eating need to roll your eyes.

“Oh, really? Sorry, I don’t come here much.” He leaned over even more, trying to keep eye contact even when you sat down. 

“Obviously.” You whispered on the low.

“Excuse me?” Anakin frowned, interrupting his beam to pout with confusion.

“Nothing.” You smiled widely with a fake grin. 

“Okay…” His frown deepened before a smirk broke out his lips. “Maybe I will make it a habit and visit more often.” He shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side, deciphering the effects of his statement on you. 

“You should.” You looked at him and gave him a side-smile, making his eyes sparkle. “Books are good for you.” You returned to check the order of nabooian books on your computer. 

“Yeah, books are cool but there are other things I would much rather check out.” He smirked shamelessly at you, the back-handed comment flying way over his head.

You felt like gagging. Not the good kind.

Before you could come up with a clever response and shut him down for good, Ahsoka spoke from behind him.

“Ugh, gross! Let’s go!” The kid dragged him out by his clothes and before he disappeared through the glass door, he winked at you.

That was the first time you have seen him. First of many, many more. 

Since the day your paths crossed, he took every fleeting moment to come and “read”, when in reality it was just him eating, or drawing or doing anything but opening a book. Taking advantage of your breaks, or whenever you returned to your seat after doing rounds, he would come over and make conversation. About his battles, his accomplishments, his close-calls to death… or about random facts he collected from his missions and travels; Anything that would maybe impress you.

And when he wasn’t doing that? He would drown you in compliments, to see if in fact, you soften up to him. Anakin was already aware of your no-so-secret disgust towards him the day he caught one of your eye rolls.

Did he care? No. 

He was persistent: admiring your hair, loving the way you had styled it in a little bun (even though it was because the heat was eating you alive). He would ask about the tasks you were performing, sucking at pretending to be interested in hearing about organizing books in alphabetical order. 

And it would have maybe worked; his good looks combined to his natural charisma were enough to make any mortal melt at his sight. You almost combust when you saw him carrying some wood boards into the library, the primal part of you rejoicing at the sight of his strong muscles stretching. The man was eye candy, whether you like it or not.

But, boy, were you tough.

Anakin Skywalker was not your cup of tea to say the least. You wouldn’t collaborate in his attempts to get to know you. You were so uninterested in finding out more about him when you had already scanned him. Just a way-too-handsome-for-his-own-good guy who was lucky enough to be born as the Chosen One, because otherwise, he would have never made it in the Order. He was determined, you would give him that. 

His approaches were never creepy or invasive enough to make you uncomfortable, only to drive you wild. Even when he was the worst part of your day, you had to keep the polite but distant charade going on, in order to protect your job. Your disgust towards him, instead of hurting him, amused him. He liked challenges and you were freaking Mission Impossible. Although he also saw the flaws in you: a pretentious prick girl who had probably achieved everything in her life thanks to nepotism. But he could see past that.

Because, boy, were you hot. 

And he was sure you liked it nasty. 

Underneath your goodie-two-shoes clothes hid the true you: he knew you loved being treated like a filthy slut.

“Hello, y/n!” Ahsoka squealed in an excited voice. You two have grown to adore each other. 

“Hey, Soka!” You responded happily, finishing to put some encyclopedias on a shelf. When you turned around, you saw she wasn’t alone. “Oh… good afternoon, Anakin.”

“Nice to see you too, y/n.” Anakin huffed in a sarcastic voice before strolling to where you were, Ahsoka following close behind. “Is that a new shirt? It suits you.”

“No, it’s the same white button up shirt that I’ve always used.” You smiled and turned around to roll your eyes in peace. He was too busy devouring your bosom behind the fabric to ever notice the barrier between his eyes and your skin.

“Y/n, do you think you could grab me a book about loreeks? I’m doing a little presentation about them for my science class.” Ahsoka asked you with a sweet voice.

“Oh sure… just let me look oveeeer…” You walked, stretching the words as you searched in the countless sections. “...here. It must be on one of these shelves.” You announced when you entered the exotic animals aisle. 

Digitating the code on your scanner you found out it was in one of the tallest shelves, only reachable with a ladder. Right when you were about to move it, Anakin came in.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. I’ll get it.” And he used the Force to bring the book down. “Here you go Snips, study hard.” He nudged her head, annoying her.

“Yeah, I guess… but it’s Friday. Can I read after I hang out with the other padawans? Barris and Meelo are going skating!” She gave her best puppy eyes, to which Anakin agreed, after giving it little to no thought.

“You didn’t have to give her the book, I could have done it.” You waited for Ahsoka to leave before dropping the bomb. 

“Easy there, kitten. I was just helping out.” He furrowed his eyebrows. As if the unnecessary nickname wasn’t enough to drive you mad. Looking down, he saw the rest of your outfit and lingered his eyes more than necessary in your short, black skirt. “On second thought, I might have let you do it.” He smirked confidently.

“Just stay out of my way, okay?” You growled, walking away from him to your desk, not without bumping your shoulder with his on your way out.

“What the hell is your problem?” He asked with an incredulous face.

You were done. The build-up from the past month was beginning to choke down your sense of decency. Not to mention that your day was already going terrible before he appeared: the droid that would always help you out was broken, significantly delaying your work day. Also, it was laundry day and you had to use your uncomfortable lingerie.

“You know what, Skywalker?” You turned around with raised eyebrows. “You’re my problem.” He opened his eyes in bewilderment. “I don’t like you. I don’t appreciate you coming in, all macho-” You made a mocking manner. “-acting like a goddamn superhero, only after cleaning up the mess you created in the first place.” You crossed your arms in your chest. 

“I’m a general, kitten, and I can assure you the war it’s not my fault.” He scoffed, he used the nickname again, knowing it would press your buttons. 

“And how many times have you messed it up bigger than it was?” You squinted your eyes, only to see him run out of words. “That’s what I thought.” You came back to digitating codes. “It’s like you don’t think. You are just a machine run by adrenaline and praise.” You finally rolled your eyes in front of him without shame. You tried to run down the reports that C7, your assistant droid would do, only to fail and almost delete everything in your computer. “And I can assure you I have bigger problems than dealing with you!”

“Okay, back down-”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You yelled, getting desperate and throwing a tantrum at the device. You had enough for the day. You could leave, given that no one would come over this late, but your sense of responsibility prevented you from going home before finishing your work load. “I fucking hate this system!”

“Let me see-”

“Don’t! Just don’t, okay?” You swatted his hand away. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Could you stop being so stuck-up and let me help you?” He raised his voice, stepping up close to tower you. His eyes were on fire and you could sense that your previous comments did get to him, but for some reason outside of your understanding, he was still willing to help.

“Fine.” You chewed the words in your mouth, stepping down as you glared at him, giving him space to analyze the situation.

Instead of leaning down the computer, he went directly to C7, who lingered weakly on the side of your desk. He picked him up and put it on the table, moving him around his hands to examine the droid. He hummed after a couple of minutes, putting the mechanical body at eye level. “I see.”

“See what? What is it?” You pressed, trying to pick a glance from over his shoulder.

“I’m going to need my tools.” He murmured, dropping the droid back again.

“Wh-”

“I’ll be right back.” He exclaimed, before heading to the door in a rush.

“Wait! What?” You shouted, the shadow of his body the only thing visible.

You stayed alone for about fifteen minutes. You even got to thinking that he was pulling a prank on you, after yelling at him. But you stayed there, because well… what else would you do? You were beginning to fall asleep as you played with paper clips, when you heard the door being opened again.

“Finally! I thought you had left!” You sighed in relief, pushing your body off your desk. 

“I was getting my tools, I told you.” He frowned, lifting the heavy, dark red box to the white marble. “Now let’s bring this one back to life.” He smiled, before busting the carcass open. 

It took Anakin less than what you waited for him to get C7 up and running again. He flipped panels, snapped cables and pressed buttons, at an order that seemed random to you, until C7’s mechanical eyes opened again.

“Oh my God!” You laughed in disbelief. “He’s functioning again!”

Anakin smiled down at the table, as he finished up adjusting some screws. C7 sat up, analyzing his surroundings before getting up and going straight back to work. 

“I-I-” You were speechless. How did he do that? So fast? “I can’t believe you just did that.” You mumbled, still looking at C7 like it was a ghost. “Thank you, Anakin.” You turned around with apologizing eyes, twitching an embarrassed smile. 

“No problem. His transmitter was disconnected from the main system. I had to fix his-” The next couple of things that he mentioned sounded like pure gibberish to you, but he was very firm, so it must be true. Right? Sensing your bafflement, he spilled facts slower and quieter until he stopped talking, finalizing with a dry smile. “Yeah, it was nothing.”

He was starting to pack everything in his toolbox again and you had a pending need to say something. However, you didn’t know if you should kick off with a real apology or-

“How did you know all that?” So a pop quiz it was. In your defense, you were genuinely curious about the abilities he had just demonstrated. Mindblown, to be more specific. 

“About what?” He furrowed his brows, closing the box but leaving on the table. 

“About the transmitter, and the restraining bolt, and- and-” You were running out of technical terms. 

“Mechanics are second nature to me at this point.” He shrugged his shoulders, picking up the box. “I know everything about the topic, so, it was an easy fix. I’d have rearranged his central system if I had the missing part, but it’s very specific. What I did will do for now, though.” 

He was about to leave when he noticed the way you were leaning on the table, head on top of your fist to pay close attention to him. You were murmuring almost unhearable “uh-huh”s, totally lost in his words. 

“Sooo, you know mechanics.” You were such a hypocrite, you couldn’t stand the man fifteen minutes ago and now you were drooling over the sight of him explaining complicated shit to you. Snob. “You often fix things?” You tried to investigate, see if the throbbing happening between your legs was worth pursuing. 

“Sometimes… I often go to the hangar and repair the damaged ships or flip them.” He grinned without teeth. “The techs often ask for me. They say I have an eye for these things. Been working on droids since I was a kid, so.” Anakin wasn’t trying to brag, but his ample knowledge in mechanics was something that he prided himself on. 

“That seems like a lot of work.” You continued the small talk, slowly losing yourself over this spontaneous crush. 

“It can get tricky.” He dismissed, beginning to notice the glint on your eyes. He recognized the way your irises had darkened: He got those fuck-me eyes wherever he went. “Still haven’t found something I can’t fix.”

But it was involuntary. The fact that he was an expert on a matter as hard as mechanics scratched a part of your brain; It flipped a switch inside of you. Anakin was a different man under your eyes now. He was smart, hella smart. 

“Gosh, that’s so impressive.” You giggled like the girls that would flirt at him. Pathetic. But you quickly regained control, not before sucking up some courage and getting closer to him, posing more seductively this time. “That brain of yours sure hides lots of secrets.”

He hadn’t quite figured out why the change of heart, so it took him a moment to replay your evening together. It lasted a bit more than he liked to admit, but it hit him. Of course. An arrogant smile cracked his face. Of course you would be attracted to someone who was a master of something you consider relevant. After all, you liked to consider yourself an “intellectual”. Just to test his theory, he consciously started to brag about something else… something that would have your panties in a bunch if his hypothesis was correct.

“Wanna know another one?” He cocked an eyebrow, resting his elbow on the table to stand inches away from your face.

Your face shined with a slight pink blush, but it was the way you bit your lip that drove him crazy. That and your enthusiastic nod. “Yeah.”

“There’s a reason behind why I’m the best pilot of the fleet. And it’s not just because of my background as a pod racer or the Force.” He whispered, snickering at how soft your eyes had grown. “It’s actually because… I use physics.”

“Physics?” You almost moaned. 

“Yeah, physics.” He repeated, moistening his lips, a thing your eyes followed. “Self-taught, just like with mechanics.”

That ripped a subtle whimper out of you. Well, not subtle to him. 

“You-you understand math?” If it wasn’t because you were visibly squeezing your thighs at the newly acquired information, he would be completely offended that you thought he was dumb as fuck. 

“Love em.” He muttered, his intense stare glued to you, as his fingers put a string of hair behind your ear.

Like thunder, you were rushing to capture his lips and show him just how hot you thought he was now. Anakin freezed at first, taking aback by your sudden demonstration of affection, but when he understood that you were willingly -and enthusiastically- giving yourself to him, he wasted no time to embrace you back. 

Wet kisses splashed everywhere; it was fucking mess. You hung onto his shoulders while he groped all of your body, starting with your sweet hips, fondling your ass like it was his personal stress ball and finally landing on your waist. You pressed against him shamelessly, but in reality, how much shame could you still have when the man’s tongue was down your throat? The only thing you knew with certainty was that the sucking sounds and moans you both dropped were intensifying the already sex-filled atmosphere.

“Anakin.” You tried to sound normal, but your voice was failing just like your knees were. “W-why haven’t you gone to a proper school? Maybe get a degree?”

Was that seriously so important to you? The opinion of others? Anakin questioned in his own head.

Anakin was the kind of person that wasn’t susceptible to the opinion of others, especially regarding his own image. He was sure of the shit he knew and didn’t need anyone validating that for him. No expensive universities, no uptight professors; Obi-Wan was more than enough. Nonetheless, he had found a shortcut to get inside your pants and God as his witness, he was gonna use it. 

“Y/n.” He snickered right in your face, drinking in the power. “I don’t care about any of that. I'm a certified engineer, that’s how I got to build this myself.” Removing the leather, he revealed his mechanical limb to you, wiggling his fingers.

It was fancier than you ever thought a mechanical hand could be. Black with touches of gold; it was elegant and sophisticated, way more advanced than any technology you had ever seen in the orthopedics research field. And you knew it well, your mom was an orthopedic surgeon. 

It was no surprise to him that after spilling that last fact you were now shamelessly grinding on his half-hard. The fact that he was an engineering mastermind was such an aphrodisiac. And as much as he wanted to have another taste of your full, pink lips, the ones he often imagined enveloped around his dick while you scolded him, Anakin wasn’t willing to make the first move.

You were going to have to beg for it. 

“Anakin?” Your hands flattened on his pecs, back arching when he cupped your cheek with the cool durasteel prosthetic, kneading against it with soft eyes. He must have noticed how captivated you were by his invention. 

“Yeah, baby?” He continued the soft ministrations up and down your cheek, redirecting your gaze to his face whenever your eyes would deviate to his artificial limb. 

“You- Uhm, you built it from scratch?” You gulped when his thumb inched closer to your mouth, rubbing your bottom lip and pulling it open. 

Little obedient you put no resistance, and instead, stuck out your wet tongue to happily receive his digit into your warmness. But this time it was his index, the one you were bobbing your head into, eye contact not faltering even when you were practically giving oral to his hand. Anakin smiled pleased at your enthusiasm for pleasuring him and added another finger for you to lubricate. 

“From scratch.” He nodded, lustful irises boring into you. “Designed it too.”

You moaned around him, feeling content with being sandwiched between his firm torso and your desk, and with your mouth being fucked by his fingers. Saliva smeared all over your chin, you whined pitifully when your lips were no longer stuffed. On the contrary of leaving you all hot and bothered, Anakin lowered those same fingers to your leaky cunt, pushing your underwear aside for easy access. 

He groaned when he first inserted a finger, your gasping a sign for him to slow down. “Baby, you’re tight.” He seemed to love that about you. 

After adjusting to the size of his strong index finger, Anakin breached in with his middle one, repeating the process of you getting used to the coldness and girth all over. 

“A-Anakin.” You closed your eyes, involuntarily standing on your tippy toes. 

“That’s right, you’re doing so well. Taking my fingers like a true champ.” He bit down a condescending smile. “Atta girl.”

The initial discomfort was just a milestone you had to overcome to succumb to the pleasure that it was being fucked by Anakin Skywalker’s metal hand. His frigid thumb came to roll over your bundle of nerves, helping you relax into him and enjoy the sensation of fully riding his hand. 

“That’s it. Fuck my hand just like that, kitten.” He chuckled, finding a spot on your neck to latch on, leave a little souvenir of your encounter, and hide his pitiful laugh. 

Kisses were peppered along your exposed throat, your clavicle and jaw, his long eyelashes tickling you and making you clench around his metal hand tighter. Whilst you worried about not whining too loud for anyone to enter the library, Anakin was pumping his fingers at such an unholy pace to complicate your task.

“Shhh, baby. You need to be quiet. Wouldn’t like for anyone to come in. You could lose your job.” He mocked with a side smile and you had to gripped his bicep to keep your balance. “Could you imagine? Getting caught having sex at work? With a Jedi?”

You could perceive that the trespassing of the pseudo-celibacy Jedi code was turning him to no end, the mischievous glimmer in his eyes getting stronger when he said the last sentence. 

“W-We’re not having sex.” You corrected him, like it mattered. Like having him knuckles deep into you was somehow less frowned-upon than to have actual coitus.

That made him laugh and you wiggled underneath him, fighting to not let your tears fall. 

“You just wait.” His lips ghosted over yours, his breath fanning over your heated face. The increase of the movements of his hand was a sign that he had noticed the contractions around his digits, fully aware that you were close. “Ready to come, baby? Gonna gush all over me?”

You nodded, biting your swollen lip, losing the battle against your tear duct. Anakin used his other thumb, the one that was not torturing your clit, to liberate your abused lip. His mouth lowered to capture yours in a hot kiss, this tongue sliding on your inside until it hit your throat. So deep into you that you would never forget his taste; so deep you will never be able to deny him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You whimpered against his smile when you reached your peak, dissolving into this meaningless mass between his arms. “Anakin…” You rode out your climax, still rocking your hips to prolong the pleasure.

Anakin waited until you regained some composure to help you fix your clothes, putting back your underwear as he found it and lowering your skirt. His actions had you frowning: Weren’t you two gonna fuck? You were already mentally prepared to welcome his enormous cock in your tiny canal. 

He grinned at your puppy eyes and adorable pout, your flustered state funnier than it should be. It was almost enough to break him. But someone had to give you a lesson. 

 “At the end of the day, I’m just a soldier, Y/n. An incompetent one, according to you.” 

Before you could protest that, he was tilting his head in an accusatory manner. Like saying: Don’t even try it. And before leaving with his head high, he spat: 

“My apologies if that’s not fancy enough for you, ma’am.”

[taelophone]

Red Rimac. Luigi Mangione x StreetRacer!Reader Vol. 1

trigger warnings ─ gambling . illegal street racing . reader is kind of mean . exclusion . "gang activty" but not really . 5k+ words . you shift POVs a lot .

StreetRacer!Reader. Moodboard. Other Parts.

Summer was a time to roam the streets from the early morning hours to the low and late strokes of night. Life was always better when it didn’t get dark until eight o’clock— at least if you didn’t have a job.

Spending hours upon hours hunched over a computer screen is not only bad for your tan, but also, the digital strain and binary brain rot tended to gnaw at the pink matter of most computer science majors' brains. Summer, in all her warm and floral glory, was a time for poor, sleepless, and  programmed zombies to emerge from their cold and dark labs to enjoy some rare sunlight.

Luigi, in all his nerdy and left-brained glory, just so happened to align with the stereotype like the shimmering stars in their native sea of navy blue.

In the mornings, he lurched, his eyes hazy and unfocused as his pale knuckles clung to whatever life he had left in his soul. All-nighters soon turned to insomnia, the lack of rest stinging the whites of his eyes and attempting to force the windows to his soul shut every time he stood still for more than thirty seconds.

Life goes on, things grow and things change, and another day means another opportunity to improve himself and work towards bettering his arsenal of skills. Another day, another play.

He spent his morning getting ready for the day— going on an early morning run, sending around some emails, reading a couple of chapters of his newest addition to his near-crowded bookshelf, and listening to a couple of podcasts while he did the dishes. Just a slow morning to match the slow and steady hum of the urban neighborhood that rested just outside his front door.

Somewhere in the distant future, a slightly older Luigi is watching him right now from a memory that would feel vintage. Perhaps he's looking back and smiling proudly, admiring the dedication he had since the ripe age of twenty years old.

But when Luigi’s phone rang and Pico’s name projected itself on his screen in those thin white letters, future Luigi could only laugh and shake his head about the butterfly that fluttered into Luigi’s life, her white wings ready to create a life-altering butterfly effect.

“Yo, hey man, what's up?” He answered, pressing the speaker icon on the glassy screen.

“Yo, Pep, I found this underground racing thing slash car show. It’s supposed to have custom cars, cool bikes, helmets, slingshots, and a couple of Dylan’s classmates actually know one of the girls who’s racing today. We’re going at nine, do you want to come with us?” He asked, his staticky and slightly fuzzy voice blaring through Luigi’s phone speaker.

“Uhh, maybe? You said it’s like a car show? Isn’t street racing illegal?” Luigi asked, balancing his phone between his face and shoulder as he folded up the last components of his laundry.

“Please don't start asking questions,” Patrick sighed.

“Saying don’t ask questions when you’re asking me to go commit a crime with you is crazy,” he chuckled, his mouth coming up into a panicked smile as both of his brows furrowed with slight concern.

“It should be fine, I think…Dylan says they’re invite-only, so no snitches, plus they’re never held in the same area more than twice. It’s at a frat house an hour over, actually,” he explained.

“Pico, I don’t think this is very smart—“ Luigi began, the idea mulling over his mind again and again, juicing it dry of the sour taste it left on his tongue.

“Luigi, no offense – you don’t go outside. We need to have you outside this summer,” he snickered, and Luigi swore he could almost hear his brows rise and fall on the other line. “And let’s not pretend like you aren’t a jaywalking warrior.”

“Either they hit me and kill me, or I live. It’s a win-win situation,” Luigi chuckled, sucking in a deep breath of air as he thought about his decision carefully.

On one hand, he had a lot to lose in life. A scholarship, a good sense of moral ground, and a spot at a nice Ivy League university nestled right in the heart of the city he loved more than anything in the world. 

Temptation is an evil temptress, and man has been known to fall for her tricks time and time again. Luigi was better than no man and found himself falling victim to her stirred cup of curiosity every once in a while.

He could be weak just once, he thought. After all, it seems like a fun one-time thing he likely won’t get to experience again, right?

“I think I’ll go actually…but I’m not driving, hell no,” he answered, punctuated by a small sarcastic chuckle at the end of his sentence.

“Type shit, type shit,” Patrick beamed, immediately texting Luigi his address again. “We’re gonna meet at my house, and then I’ll drive us.”

“Cool, thanks,” he nodded, listening to Patrick’s laggy and loud goodbye before they both hung up the phone.

Boop, boop, boop!

“Chris, can you get me a soda from the kitchen!?”

Your voice echoed through the hallway, bouncing off the empty walls and doing its best to maneuver through the loud vibration of Do What I Want by Lil Uzi Vert. When he didn’t respond, you huffed, adjusting your red and ivory varsity jacket before you waltzed down the hall a bit further from the bathroom.

“Chris!” You shouted, leaning over the black iron railing.

“Yeah?” He shouted back, immediately lifting his gaze from the living room couch.

“Can you get me a soda!?” You repeated.

“Absolutely not, get it yourself,” he beamed, adjusting the white rim of his red Chicago Bulls cap on his head.

“You’re evil, get out of my house…” You groaned, making your way back to the bathroom to continue finishing your makeup.

Tonight would mark your third race this summer, and your twenty-ninth in the past year. The month of June was always the slowest, but you were more than ready for things to kick off in early July.

You had been racing since just seventeen years old, ripping and tearing through streets at a pace no sane woman would ever see on their speedometer. At first, you were doing it for a rush, but it quickly became lucrative the more experience and speed you got.

Bets were made, donations flowed, crowds flocked, and cash was cashed the more you managed to claw your way through the asphalt. Your quiet and academic-driven life slowly began to sound like the inside of a crowded casino, slots clinking and money fluttering every time you stepped into the driver's seat.

You dabbed some highlighter on the tip of your nose, blending it out with the pad of your middle finger before looking over your outfit one more time. Red and ivory varsity jacket, low rise deep blue flares with large slits at the calves, a black tube top, and black Air Force Ones to tie everything together! Cute.

“When are Pink and Dhakiya coming?” You asked, making your way down the stairs to retrieve your black leather purse and a pair of glossy black browline glasses from the side table. 

“Uhh…” Chris murmured, immediately flipping through his Snap to check his messages again. “Pink should be pulling up now, and ‘Kiya is gonna meet us there…she’s going with Dylan, and apparently he’s bringing some new bitches, so…” he chuckled, shaking his head in very obvious disapproval.

“You need to stop dropping addresses for him…he cannot keep his mouth closed, my fucking god…” you sighed, rolling your eyes as far as your sockets would allow before collapsing down onto the cotton fabric of your grey couch.

“Chill, Dylan’s fine. More people, more money…” he huffed, raising a brow at you before reading a text on his phone and snapping a pic of the corner of his bright green eye for a streak photo.

“Yeah, but he’s gonna get us fucking caught…” you huffed. “Who’s on lookout? Also, do we still have scanners?” You asked, flipping through your photo album titled ‘Firee’ and looking back on all the irresponsible memories you made in a car.

“Yeah. But we don’t need them anyway, we’re going to Bryce’s…playground, or whatever he calls it,” Chris nodded. “It’s good, you’ll like it. Big fucking villa, massive roads, and a big garage that can hold like thirty people.”

“That actually sounds nice,” you hummed, propping yourself up on your elbows to face Chris. “Who we driving? Pluto or Dashielle?”

“Dash, obviously,” Chris scoffed, half a chuckle lightening the end of his declaration. 

He tossed the glossy, cherry-stained, and futuristic-looking key fob with your abundance of glimmery and glittery charms and keepsakes. Just as you pulled yourself off the couch, your bones cracking from slight exhaustion, the cherry oak front door came swinging open to reveal a tall and skinny young woman with a large curly black bun.

“Blitzen!! Baby!” She beamed, the golden grillz full of diamonds and spades on full display under the white fluorescent light of your living room.

You gasped, jumping up off the couch with a bright grin. “Pink!!”

You met her halfway, two steps away from the couch and two more away from the front door before you engulfed each other in a tight and wobbly hug. The woman wore a red tank top with little white bows on the spaghetti straps and the smallest low-rise jean shorts you could wear without being charged for public indecency.

Her slim stiletto heels clicked and clacked on the glossy dark hardwood floors, alerting the house to her presence as she frantically sipped the sweaty Coors Light in her hand.

“I’m so excited to be outside again!” She huffed, bending slightly at the knee as she pretended to lose her footing momentarily to signify how bored she had been this year. “Psychology was a mistake, Calnan has been killing me slowly, literally.”

“Girl…you don’t even wanna know what they’re putting me through,” you sighed, clipping your keys around your belt loop as Chris rose to his feet and stretched, his white wife beater riding up slightly.

“Alright, let’s go…the drive is like forty-five minutes, so we’ll get there at like six-twenty. You can do some donuts and show off the car,” he hummed, making his way out the front door.

You scrambled into your car as a group of three, kissing the hood of your red wheels before popping into the front seat and letting the icy breeze from the air conditioning fill the Cupid-red leather interior of your car. With Pink connected to the aux, the soles of the seats vibrated with the heavy bass and loud treble of some violent rap that prompted you into the afternoon distance.

Meanwhile, Luigi was cooped up in the passenger seat of a silver Chevrolet Camaro. The lyrics to Headlines by Drake filled the car, pressing against the glass as he scrolled on his phone to distract himself from the anxiety that rose the hairs on his arms and legs. 

When they reached their destination, they saw a large Mediterranean-style home that was jam-packed with extremely extravagant cars— some were custom, built from the rims to the wings, some were customized beyond belief, and some were wrapped in various colors and textures of car wraps.

Emerging from the dim light in the back of Patrick’s car, he saw a sea of moving bodies that chatted and chirped as more seemed to nest in the bright garage. Everyone appeared to be nursing some sort of cold beverage, be it a Solo cup of mystery or a fresh can of carbonation with beads of condensation clinging to the tin.

“I’d rather not have my car get vandalized, so I’m gonna park across the street. Go in, Dylan should be somewhere in the house,” Patrick urged, a half-giddy smile on his face before he pulled his car off into the distance. 

With Patrick gone, Luigi made his way up the stairs to the front porch, the sloped incline raising the greyscale home with black iron windows and ash-brown double front doors, slowly filling out more and more as he neared the front entrance.

His ears indulged in the music before his eyes took in the sight, the heavy vibration of Time Of Our Lives by Ne-Yo and Pitbull biting his ear with every word that Mr. Worldwide spent talking about his trials and tribulations. Now that he had a clear view of the front lawn and the side, his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as he saw the cars and women present.

A brunette with black roots in an all-American bikini top, the warm and humid sunset breeze kissing the freckles that ran up and down her arms as a man with a matte black helmet that had been scribbled on by many people across many timelines of his life. A McLaren 720S with bright pink glossy paint and heart-shaped rims that seemed to belong to a young lady not far from the cooler.

She, too, was dressed in all pink; from the cropped leather jacket with Hello Kitty patches all over the front, to the miniskirt that adorned her hips which undoubtedly made it impossible to bend more than fifty degrees. There were people everywhere, grillz in mouths that danced like flappers— flappers who complimented the heavy fur coats and exorbitant diamonds and gold.

If Luigi tried hard enough, he could almost match every person to a car. The flashier the vehicles, the brighter the bearer seemed to glimmer under the reddish summer sunlight.

He didn’t dare speak to any of them— not when he was dressed like an outcast with a bank balance in the negatives. By no means was Luigi poor, absolutely not— but he found himself a little timid as people walked by and looked him up and down.

He wasn’t intruding, but it was damn obvious nobody knew his face. In this new world, he had been forcibly thrown into by the eager whims of his best friend, real recognized real, and he was a very unwelcome face.

He felt like a fraud just being there. He decided it was best if he tore his eyes away from the beautiful machinery in favor of finding the actual person who permitted him to be here in the first place.

His feet carried him before his racing mind could, nearly tripping over the spilled beer cans that were hydrating the freshly mowed blades of grass. The front door was wide open— just enough to accommodate the big egos and even bigger wallets that flowed in and out of the archway.

His eyes scanned over the crowd, cherry-picking his favorite outfits of the evening as he wiggled through the hallway to the kitchen in pursuit of Dylan. There seemed to be a common theme amongst the young women in attendance— bikini tops that left very little to the imagination, or maybe the occasional tank top paired with some form of low-rise jeans.

Accessories clinked and twinkled, allowing him a moment to get familiar with what sound each person’s soul made when allowed a moment to express themselves. Dull, chunky sounds of maximalist resin bangles, sharp and starlike twinkles of gold and silver chains or necklaces, and heavy thunks of rubber soles on heels or sneakers against the hardwood floors.

He found Dylan in the west hall, a golden yellow smile on his teeth as he conversed with a brown-skinned woman wearing a red tube top with black leather split-hem pants.

“Yo, Luigi! You’re outside! For the first time in forever!” He cheered, greeting Luigi with a firm dap and an intimate side hug. “Glad to see you could make it! Where’s Pico?”

“Hey, man! Yeah, Pico said he’s gonna park across the street. So what’s going on, is this like, a party? What’s happening?” He asked, exchanging polite waves and upward nods with the woman next to Dylan.

“Hello…I’m Dhakiya,” she said, giving him a polite smile.

“Oh, yeah, this is Dhakiya, her friend is hosting today. Uhhh.., we’re waiting for Chris, Pink, and Red Rum to get here, then she’s gonna race against Half Moon…” Dylan said, the aliases rolling off his tongue and losing their way to Luigi’s brain as his brows furrowed.

“Who names their kid Pink…” he said, more of a statement than a question as he ignored the lingering stares from people who passed him by.

“Nah, her name’s not actually Pink, we just call her that…but they should—“ He began, the childish flower clips at the end of his two strand twists clinking together as he abruptly turned his head to face the sudden sound of a door slamming open.

“AYO! BLITZ IS OUTSIDE, ERR’BODY GET THE FUCK OUT!”

There was a flash of clamor, bodies all traveling in one direction as each person scrambled for a way out the door with large smiles and eager chatter.

He heard the sound of a loud engine revving, tires screeching and squealing in pain as they drifted and rubbed against the asphalt. A nasty, grim, and ghostly hood of smoke fizzled from underneath your tires.

A testament to your speed, darkened friction marks imprinted themselves on the road as you did donut after donut in the street. Patrick had found Luigi standing in shock at the top of the hill, watching as your red Rimac looped over and over in the wide road below.

Cheers and exclamations of excitement filled the air, limbs pushing and shoving as everyone clumped together to witness the speedy display. To Luigi’s surprise, a woman rolled down the passenger side window just to sit on the ledge and stick her tongue out in triumph.

She yelled, her nonsensical whoops of freedom piercing through the crowd and the now-hushed music before the glossy vehicle whipped into the large driveway.

Chris emerged from the back, and the woman in the window spun around to drop her feet on the floor with a bright, silver smile. Soon, a young woman with a red varsity jacket and low-rise jeans that hugged her up so good it restored his faith in flare jeans emerged from the driver's seat.

You emerged from your car, fanning your face free of the smoke that Chris had huffed and puffed in the back. A little bit of showing off never hurt anybody, and the crowd seemed to enjoy seeing the little figure eight of friction marks you left scorching on the road.

You smiled, watching as a familiar man with a golden grin approached you to give you daps and welcome you to Bryce’s old car workshop, or playground, as he referred to it. 

“Welcome, welcome! Pep, Pico, c’mere!” He called, beckoning over two tall men in your direction. 

One was much broader in the shoulders, his extremely casual monochrome Adidas hoodie adorning his trained and disciplined muscles. You definitely didn’t recognize the chocolate brown curls or the jet-black hair of the lean man with raccoon-like eyebags next to him.

“This is Patrick, and this is Luigi. They’re new…they’re my Phi-Psi brothers,” Dylan smiled, matching a name to a face as he wrapped an arm around either of their shoulders.

“I could tell, don’t worry…” you stated, raising your brows at their white cargo shorts and blue skinny jeans that didn’t scream usual crowd…or race etiquette. Stepping out of the house looking so casual was a choice— not a good one, but a choice nonetheless.

You gave them a half-nod, clutching at Pink’s hand as she joined you in looking the two men up and down.

“Hmm…well, have fun. You leave here, this didn’t happen,” you smiled, the ends of your lips forcing themselves upwards in a grin that lacked emotion in the eyes.

“Yeah, of course…I like your car,” Patrick said, eyeing up your wheels like a child spotting their first sugar fix of the day.

Candied apples, dripping with red syrup and glossed up by the sweet fading sunlight. You turned around, admiring the black wing and how low it sat on the asphalt before facing the men again.

“Thanks…” you murmured, nodding slowly before pushing your way past the three in pursuit of your opponent, Half Moon.

You found his car quite quickly, that gorgeous shade of blue-black, high wing, and as many illegal mods as he could cram into its internal organs without making a mechanic question his origins. Chevrolet Corvette Stingray— a beautiful hymn of words that purred like a well-fed kitten on the streets.

“Half Moon! What’s good, what’s good!” You squealed, eagerly jogging up to the man decorated with a matte black helmet complete with cat ears and a pitch-black visor.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, only a stack of silver chains that clinked and clattered as he moved. A large moon spanned across his chest in its third quarter phase, along with one full sleeve of snakes and vines across his left arm.

His pants sagged so low you could see about twenty percent of his black Calvin Klein boxers, they poked out from underneath his black ripped jeans like a loud reminder of his careless demeanor.

“A’sup, Blitz,” he greeted, pulling you into a tight side hug and chuckling beneath the helmet. “Aye, no hard feelings, but we went like sixty to forty in the bets. I will gladly take the remaining forty people put on your car.”

”Hell nah, I’m taking all sixty home tonight. Bills to pay, tuition to fund…no hard feelings,” you snickered, furrowing your brows at his cocky and zealous statement.

“Sure…See I got respect for you, cuz you stayin’ in school, but don’t bet your future on no car…” he advised, tilting his obscured head at your ‘naïveté’.

“It’s not a bet if I know I’m gonna win, though…” you smiled, giving him a polite nod before retreating to your car with Pink.

Luigi, merely a bystander from the sidelines, watched as the man named Half Moon pulled his car around next to yours, aligning himself perfectly parallel with your candied automobile. His nerves seemed to climb by the second, despite not being involved in anything that was happening around him. 

He watched as the crowd began to walk down to the road, letting you and Half Moon peel out of the driveway just as smoothly as the pair of you had pulled in. Some bystanders dragged with them some sort of chair to sit on, while some chose to stand and guzzle down whatever remained of their drink, and many clutched onto others as a man with two large trays walked around and collected fat stacks of money from each member who cared enough to bet.

With a roar of the ignition, each cold and clean-cut car seemed to spring to life on the spot. White and foggy smoke puffed from your exhaust, shots like bullets sputtering and sparking from each car’s rear as one brave woman stepped in front of both cars to set up the make-shift lighting system, something Chris had referred to in Luigi's ear as the “Christmas tree.”

His lungs had never felt fuller, and his eyes had never been so still in his life. He wasn’t exactly fond of your introduction to him, but he did have to admit your car was grabbing his attention more than he’d like to admit under these circumstances.

Each engine growled, your Rimac angry and hot like a dragon gearing up to bring fire to the front lawn. Loud, resentful, and eager to devour the purr of the quiet and kitten-like engine next to you.

If Luigi strained his ears enough, he could tell exactly what car was making what sound over the noise. Even the smoke that flowed from your vehicles was different, yours came out in a steady stream of cotton-like clouds that faded much quicker than Half Moon’s.

His heart pounded against his chest cavity, the blood rushing to his ears as his anxiety and anticipation forced his eyes forward on the cars in front of him. To say he was nervous was a criminal understatement— if at any moment the cops decided to show up, everyone was done for.

His thoughts only turned off when he saw a tall, almost hazardously skinny woman dressed in an all-white bikini and blue Moon Boots strut her way in front of the cars in a blue cropped fur hoodie that seemed to swallow her arms and head whole.

“Alright! Ladies and men, I wanna welcome you to Bryce’s playground! Three things before we get started: I need both drivers to check their seatbelts, and verify that their airbags are indeed in check! Make sure that your dash cam is on and that any potential passengers or guests are not recording at this very moment!” she announced, taking an old-fashioned pistol out of her fuzzy coat pocket.

“When you hear my pistol go off, that is your sign to make your way down from this very road down to that red barn we see in the distance!” She shouted, turning around to point at the run-down-looking barn that appeared to be no farther than about a mile. “And for my newcomers, if we have any with us tonight, we’d like to welcome you on behalf of my dear darling boyfriend, and point out that if this happens to get leaked and you decide to go tattling, we are very good at covering our tracks! That being said, BUCKLE THE FUCK UP!”

Blood rushed through your veins, adrenaline fogging your mind as your foot teased the gas oh so subtly. The car practically vibrated with the force of the engine, the turbos in your car’s guts forcing as much air in the combustion as physically possible.

She growled like a dragon, your little leather seats shaking in learned fear as you waved at Half Moon from the window on your right. You offered him a kind smile and a thumbs up before focusing on the long strip of road ahead of you, shooting up a silent prayer to any god that could protect your life as she had done many times before.

“On your mark!” Lucy said, her manicured finger teasing the trigger of her pistol with the most determined and nonchalant expression you’ve ever seen someone in her shoes don. 

“Get set…”

Before you knew it, the Christmas tree flashed two green lights and the bullet had dispatched from its fiery chamber. The bang was loud enough to render the weakest of the pack deaf, weeding out the runts that found themselves hindered by their inability to recognize the call of two fanged predators ready to hunt.

Your foot slammed down on the gas, sending you flying forward as your car rapidly gained speed at an alarming rate. Two hundred and thirty miles per hour in just three point eighty-three seconds— your front wheels departed from the floor, the front of the car bearing the brunt of your speed as your opponent made a hearty attempt to close the distance that had built in such a short amount of time.

It was like watching the son of Satan chase after his father's red robes of fury; he was practically riding your ass with how close he was, but it wasn’t enough.

Pink screamed and giggled her head off, her heels kicked up on the dash as the air raided your windows and made quick work of sending your hair flying in every direction it was able. With this kind of speed and horsepower, the tightest of curls never even stood a chance.

The roar of the dragon was heard all the way back at the playground, her claws ripping up the asphalt as she flew forward in a manner that should defy the laws of physics. Her wings aided her escape as her tires came screeching at the barn, reaching her destination a mere two seconds earlier than the runt she left behind.

After the smoke cleared and the smell of scorched rubber dissipated from the air, you got out of your car to give Half Moon a firm handshake and a fist bump.

“Sorry. I’m too good at school to not be able to pay for it,” you smiled, watching as he flipped open his visor to reveal a slightly defeated but impressed smile.

“God damn, what are you feeding that thing? What mods you got?” He asked, walking around the front of your car to observe what rested under the hood.

“There’s a couple of E-turbos in there…she’s an electric engine, so I gotta treat her right,” you nodded. “You’re not gonna see ‘em under the hood though.”

“Smart girl…” he hummed, shutting the car hood with a nod. “How much was she? No way you get this while still in college…”

“Maybe two million…? But I bought it for much cheaper from a friend from school once I started getting my bread together. Chris, actually…he said he was making an investment, whatever that means,” you shrugged.

“Smart man,” he chuckled, climbing back into his car to make his way back to the playground. “I have no idea where you got the money, much less Chris’ dumbass, but I’m not gonna question it.”

“Thanks,” you nodded, returning to your front seat and giving celebratory hugs to Pink.

You clawed your way back up the hill, parking your car back in the driveway as you stepped out to the crowd thundering with cheers and celebrations. It seemed as though anyone who bet more than three dollars on Half Moon began to grow upset, groans and grunts of loss mingling in with the loud applause as you faced the orchestra of joy.

You stepped out with Pink, your tongue out in triumph as your hands motioned for more applause. If there was a time to boast and gloat, it was now or never.

You were young, rich, and played in the face of the almighty grim reaper on a day-to-day basis. Your earnings were served like cold ice cream after thrashing about in a heated jacuzzi.

The large and fat platter of cash was handed to you, featuring a couple of rings and necklaces that were offered up rather than cash that could be flipped for their value in gold. The celebration was short-lived in all its right, and you watched as the gaudily dressed individuals filed into their respective cars and hopped on bikes after retrieving photographic evidence of their whereabouts that they’d inevitably boast about on social media.

You had taken about fifty photos within the following ten minutes. Posing with girls in the tiniest bikinis, men in the darkest outfits that would be considered emo if they weren’t coupled with bright and flashy jewelry. Most people had left, and you were just left with Chris, Pink, Dylan, Dhakiya, and the riffraff Dylan had brought along.

“That was tough as shit, B! I see you! Dustin’ hoes in your lil’ candy car, okay!” Dylan praised, eagerly patting your shoulder as Dhakiya came over beside him with a fat joint between her fingers. 

“Breaking Half’s streak is crazy,” she said, a bright smile on her face that contrasted her heavy lids that were pink from the Mary Jane.

“Thank you, thank you,” you smiled, giving high fives and hugs all around before Luigi and his friend came around.

“That was really cool…” Luigi murmured, child-like admiration woven in his tone while his brows shot up with shock.

“Thank you,” you smiled, nodding your head as Chris brought you over a cold pineapple Fanta.

He was new, and maybe you were being a little mean…his beady black doe eyes pulled at your heartstrings, plucking out of tune notes of empathy underneath your hardened demeanor. He was just looking for a good time, and it felt a little hypocritical to wave him off like a flea-bitten stray. 

In a way, you could almost see your past self beyond the windows of his soul. Staring back at you with that same wonderstruck expression. It was hard to not offer small talk when he was just so cute…like a little dumb baby!

“I remember watching my first race,” you hummed, taking a deep swig from the aggressively carbonated drink that stung deep in your nostrils, but after being subjected to car hotboxes so sweltering that your eyes stung from the smoke, not much could affect your nasals.

“It was hell. The dude I bet on lost terribly. Then he crashed out and started yelling, but god damn those cars were sexy,” you chuckled.

You watched as Patrick began conversing with Chris and Dylan, exchanging numbers and information with Dhakiya before delving into a conversation about future car shows and any potential races coming up.

“Man, that’s rough…but you did really good! I thought your car was gonna flip backward at one point,” he chuckled. “How is your car even that fast…they said you got there in like sixteen seconds!”

“I can’t tell you,” you smiled. “It’s a secret…maybe if I see your face a couple more times I’ll tell you.”

“Oh, I see…” he beamed, his brows pinching together as he nodded down at you. “No respect for the new guy, I see.”

“Nope. You might be a fed,” you joked, pretending to pat him down for a wire.

“Absolutely not,” he laughed, shaking his head and watching as you counted your earnings from the large silver tray.

“That’s a lot of money…” he nearly whispered, watching as you counted blue-tinted hundred-dollar bills at the speed of light.

“What money?” You teased, raising a brow at him and pausing with your shuffling. “I didn’t earn any money. I got this from my safe at home…”

“Oh yeah, right, totally. I forgot, how ignorant of me,” He nodded.

“Yo! B, let’s go! Cops get wind, we’re all fucked. Don’t act brand new in front of your lil’ friend,” Dylan called.

You paused, giving the man a sly nod and a grin as you shoved all of the wads of money into your black purse.

“Maybe I’ll see you again, maybe I won’t. If I do, don’t show up like this again,” you beamed, gesturing at Luigi’s sandals and relatively generic outfit. “And wear red…it’s my color.”

“Sure…I can do that,” he chuckled.

“Now get, before Bryce rolls up and calls the cops on you.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You climbed back into your car, tossing your keys up front to Chris as you slumped in the back seat to take a hard-earned nap. Something in the atmosphere told you that you would see him again, whether it be at a new race or maybe at a local Trader Joe’s. 

Wherever it was that you’d cross paths, you were sure you’d recognize those spiral curls of cocoa and his firm voice that trembled and fumbled when he spoke. And as you unzipped your purse to count your money, you let him fade into the back of your mind to become a distant memory until you’d have to put a name to his face once more.

[hrts4nagi]

she's the man!

paring :: itoshi rin x f!reader

synopsis :: hiori y/n is devastated after the news of the girls soccer team being cut from the sport program and unable to join the boys team. to rub more salt on the wound, she just broke off with her long-time boyfriend. devising a plan, she disguises herself as her twin brother to take his place at blue lock academy, an all-male prep school.

what she doesn’t expect is falling in love with the academy’s star player.

04.

wc :: 539

be normal be normal.

just be normal! how hard can it be pretending to be your brother?

you open the door to be met with a pair of deep teal eyes and rustled black hair.

"hey! i'm yo hiori, your roommate!" you lean on the wall to act as natural as possible.

he raises an eyebrow at your actions. "i'm rin. please keep the volume to a minimum."

"i took the bed by the window, hope you don't mind."

"it's okay, i prefer walls more!"

“woah, are these real?" you go up to rin cupping his cheeks to get a closer look at this lower eyelashes.

he freezes at the sudden contact before pushing you off. “yes, they are. ever heard of personal space?"

you hold up your hands in surrender. “my bad bro! it's just that i- i mean my sister uses eyelash serum for her eyelashes. and they're not even half of what yours are!”

nice save.

“thanks? i guess.”

you chest bump him in response.

rin looks at you in pure confusion.

“okay, so i'm heading out."

“bye roomie! i still got some unpacking to do!”

“right.”

rin shuts the door as you stand in the dorm in silence.

you blew it.

who would've thought acting like the opposite sex was this difficult?

"all done!" you scan your room and nod in satisfaction at your set-up.

you glance at the clock and grimace at the time.

"yikes! i didn't realize i took that long, what time does the dining hall close anyway?"

you pull out your phone to text your roommate but face palm at the realization.

"i didn't even get his contact info," you huff your cheeks before laying on your bed.

you ponder before opting to explore campus.

you huff and puff, catching your breath as you make it to the cafeteria.

"nice! i made it!"

you scan the room and no sign of rin, frowning at this realization. you continue to walk forward unaware of your surroundings. unknowingly, yet again you slam into another body. the two of you let out a pained noise.

"oh i'm so sorry!"

"it's alright, i wasn't paying attention either."

looking up, you're met with long vibrant reddish-pink hair.

"woah, nice hair." you admire reaching out before catching yourself.

"sorry! it looks so shiny, what's your hair care routine?"

he looks at you before continuing. "i'm heading to the showers right now, i can show you?"

you raise your eyebrows.

"the products." he confirms.

"lead the way!"

"the name's chigiri hyoma by the way."

"nice to meet ya! i'm hirori yo!"

"oh you're the new guy?"

"yup!"

-

chigiri lifts up his shower caddy, carrying all ranges of hair products. from some fancy name-brand shampoo and conditioner set you can't even pronounce to hair masks and leave in conditioners.

you admire the products, even sniffing some of the bottles.

"woah, i can't even pronounce half of that! they smell super good too!"

he chuckles before pointing to the bottle in hand. "this one's my favorite, great hair mask."

you nod before writing down on a notepad. gotta take notes!

"thanks for showing me! i'll see ya at practice tomorrow!"

"you're not gonna shower?"

"ah no, i'm more of a morning shower person," you lie through your teeth.

"bye bye!"

chigiri hyoma - keyboard warrior, likes to argue in his free time

navigation ::

she's the man!

next -> 05.

previous <- 03.

taglist [OPEN] :: @x3nafix @sugacor3 @yanderebluelockfan @lucid1tty @shydefendorcoffee @kaz-0e @sellomaybe @ovrthe-moon @nensi @90s-belladonna @chuurinnie @suksatoru @vampireg1rl @renchai @yxcntruu @yoimyas @meekydeeks @renchai @yxcntruu @yoimyas @meekydeeks

[danmat6288]

Some number of years ago, I commissioned @nintendonut1 for a picture of Twink in a doll form with Geno. So recently, I decided to take the design they gave him and draw it for myself, along with a bunch of colorless sketches, and write up lore for the kid in this form.

This is Twink, or ☼☺♣ as his "star name" goes. Some time after the the end of Mario's quest to recover the Star Rod from Bowser, Twink decided to spend time on the surface to help people more on a personal level in little ways. Due to Twink's relative youth, he doesn't have the intuition of older Star Spirits like the one we call Geno to hone in on stronger potential bodies, which resulted in him settling on a plush toy of an unnamed messenger elf. However, his youthful energy allows him to fortify his plush body a fair deal with his innate magic, even altering the density of parts when need be.

At this point, Twink is around the star's equivalent of early teen years. He tends to act as a cool big bro figure to younger types, much like he did for younger star kids in Starborn Valley, while still enthusiastically looking up to older and more experienced figures. He tends to keep his senses open to little wishes that get made around him and send a bit of his magic their way to grant them in little ways. Wish magic aside, he's got the more mundane magic of friendly optimism and moral support in spades. Twink has developed a more sarcastic side as of recent, but he tries to save that for the meaner types who'd deserve a little sass.

Twink prefers not to fight, but if he has to, his capacity to density-shift makes him pack a surprising punch for a plush toy. His strength lies in spells, though. A few are offensive, but most are status buff types for allies and some status debuff types for enemies. Twink carries a Lucky Star pendant on his doll's person, a gift from Princess Peach, which gives him strength in tough times.

[misfitwashere]

ROBERT REICH

FEB 7

Friends,

I wanted to make sure you saw this piece by Lina Khan, who until a few days ago was chair of the Federal Trade Commission. IMHO — as someone who was once an official of the FTC — Khan was one of the wisest and most courageous of its leaders. She wrote the following in the February 4 edition of The New York Times.

Stop Worshiping the American Tech Giants

By Lina M. Khan

When Chinese artificial intelligence firm DeepSeek shocked Silicon Valley and Wall Street with its powerful new A.I. model, Marc Andreessen, the Silicon Valley investor, went so far as to describe it as “A.I.’s Sputnik moment.” Presumably, Mr. Andreessen wasn’t calling on the federal government to start a massive new program like NASA, which was our response to the Soviet Union’s Sputnik satellite launch; he wants the U.S. government to flood private industry with capital, to ensure that America remains technologically and economically dominant.

As an antitrust enforcer, I see a different metaphor. DeepSeek is the canary in the coal mine. It’s warning us that when there isn’t enough competition, our tech industry grows vulnerable to its Chinese rivals, threatening U.S. geopolitical power in the 21st century.

Although it’s unclear precisely how much more efficient DeepSeek’s models are than, say, ChatGPT, its innovations are real and undermine a core argument that America’s dominant technology firms have been pushing — namely, that they are developing the best artificial intelligence technology the world has to offer, and that technological advances can be achieved only with enormous investment — in computing power, energy generation and cutting-edge chips. For years now, these companies have been arguing that the government must protect them from competition to ensure that America stays ahead.

But let’s not forget that America’s tech giants are awash in cash, computing power and data capacity. They are headquartered in the world’s strongest economy and enjoy the advantages conferred by the rule of law and a free enterprise system. And yet, despite all those advantages — as well as a U.S. government ban on the sales of cutting-edge chips and chip-making equipment to Chinese firms — America’s tech giants have seemingly been challenged on the cheap.

It should be no surprise that our big tech firms are at risk of being surpassed in A.I. innovation by foreign competitors. After companies like Google, Apple and Amazon helped transform the American economy in the 2000s, they maintained their dominance primarily through buying out rivals and building anticompetitive moats around their businesses.

Over the last decade, big tech chief executives have seemed more adept at reinventing themselves to suit the politics of the moment — resistance sympathizers, social justice warriors, MAGA enthusiasts — than on pioneering new pathbreaking innovations and breakthrough technologies.

There have been times when Washington has embraced the argument that certain businesses deserve to be treated as national champions and, as such, to become monopolies with the expectation that they will represent America’s national interests. Those times serve as a cautionary tale.

Boeing was one such star — the aircraft manufacturer’s reputation was so sterling that a former White House adviser during the Clinton administration referred to it as a “de facto national champion,” so important that “you can be an out-and-out advocate for it” in government. This superstar status was such that it likely helped Boeing gain the regulatory green light to absorb its remaining U.S. rival McDonnell Douglas. That 1997 merger played a significant role in damaging Boeing’s culture, leaving it plagued with a host of problems, including safety concerns.

On the other hand, the government’s decision to enforce antitrust laws against what is now AT&T Inc., IBM and Microsoft in the 1970s through the 1990s helped create the market conditions that gave rise to Silicon Valley’s dynamism and America’s subsequent technological lead. America’s bipartisan commitment to maintaining open and competitive markets from the 1930s to the 1980s — a commitment that many European countries and Japan did not share — was critical for generating the broad-based economic growth and technological edge that catapulted the United States to the top of the world order.

While monopolies may offer periodic advances, breakthrough innovations have historically come from disruptive outsiders, in part because huge behemoths rarely want to advance technologies that could displace or cannibalize their own businesses. Mired in red tape and bureaucratic inertia, those companies usually aren’t set up to deliver the seismic efficiencies that hungry start-ups can generate.

The recent history of artificial intelligence demonstrates this pattern. Google developed the groundbreaking Transformer architecture that underlies today’s A.I. revolution in 2017, but the technology was largely underutilized until researchers left to join or to found new companies. It took these independent firms, not the tech giant, to realize the technology’s transformative potential.

At the Federal Trade Commission, I argued that in the arena of artificial intelligence, developers should release enough information about their models to allow smaller players and upstarts to bring their ideas to market without being beholden to dominant firms’ pricing or access restrictions. Competition and openness, not centralization, drive innovation.

In the coming weeks and months, U.S. tech giants may renew their calls for the government to grant them special protections that close off markets and lock in their dominance. Indeed, top executives from these firms appear eager to curry favor and cut deals, which could include asking the federal government to pare back sensible efforts to require adequate testing of models before they are released to the public, or to look the other way when a dominant firm seeks to acquire an upstart competitor.

Enforcers and policymakers should be wary. During the first Trump and then the Biden administrations, antitrust enforcers brought major monopolization lawsuits against those same companies — making the case that by unlawfully buying up or excluding their rivals, these companies had undermined innovation and deprived America of the benefits that free and fair competition delivers. Reversing course would be a mistake. The best way for the United States to stay ahead globally is by promoting competition at home.