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noneorother · 1 month

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The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 1

part 1 l part 2

This is going to have to be a multi-part series because there are *checks notes* 64 different covers that I've found so far.

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... 1. The original UK cover

Ahh, the standard by which all shall be judged. We're starting off with a nice & easy cover, with adorable woodcuts of Aziraphale and Crowley flanking a custom Good Omens font! While I have to take a few points off for the terrible kerning of the word "GoOD", the blockprint vibes and general bitchiness of Aziraphale's teeny weeny wittle face, along with the sick colour palette puts the orignial in my good graces. Tier: Great

2. The duelling US covers

Progress! Hail to the designer who figured out trying to make "GoOD" and "OMeNs" fit the same width was a fool's errand, and even managed to IMPROVE on the original handmade title by adding a little halo and devil's tale to the design. Aziraphale and Crowley are facing each other, while also managing to serve absolute cunt. Aziraphale is wearing EIGHTIES SNEAKERS. Crowley's little snake boots have HEELS. They've managed to keep the woodcut vibes and colour simplicity, while balancing out the full title of the book. Both authors get to trade off on who's name comes first! Dare I say, this is a work of genius. I could dock some points for Crowley's sad bat wings growing out of his right clavicle, but who am I to question greatness.

Tier: Blessed by God Herself

3. The Halo Master Chief(?) cover

How the mighty have fallen... As a Canadian child, I was subjected to maybe the most horrifying ad in existence by the War Amps warning children about machine safety. This cover is the paper embodiment of that ad. I am confused by the purple haze. I am frightened by the seeming ethereal flatness of Adam and Dog. I am strangely aroused by Aziraphale's eyebrows, and intensely saddened by the terrible outline/drop shadow they had to inflict on the type to fit "Pratchett" in that god awful space. Tier: WTF

4. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers

This cover inexplicably exists in two colour ways: red and teal. I put the audiobook cover here so you could experience the full illustration, and also how fucked up it is that they cropped the book version to include three horse-people of the apocalypse, but cut off DEATH on the regular cover. Points must be given for drawing a pretty slick Bentley, but I think we have to take even more points away for turning Crowley into a Ray Charles/Mike Wazowski hybrid. The ducks are nice. Tier: Not so Good (Omens)

5. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers continued

I don't know if the German designer of this cover *knew* that they were using western yeehaw cowboy woodblock letters when they made this cover, but judging by how they spaced the rest of the text at the bottom, THEY DID NOT CARE. And that seems to be a running theme for this one. We get kind of a duality thing going on with the black and pink background, but it just seems like somebody whispered the general themes of Good Omens into a jar, and threw it down a well, and this poor chap came along and picked it up. The baffling choice to align every piece of text on the cover *except* Neil Gaiman's name which is right aligned and rotated 90 degrees (not even real vertical type) will haunt my dreams, I think.

Tier: Bad

6. US, UK The Traffic Jam cover

For the love of Good Omens, WHY. I can think of so many more interesting symbols to put on the cover of this book than the ODEGRA SIGIL TRAFFIC JAM. Props for keeping the good colours and type, but like, I think this cover was secretly designed by @amtrak-official, or someone who just really, really likes public works. Tier: Does the Job

7. France, De bons présages cover

Leave it to France to make sure people know that Aziraphale and Crowley fuck severely. While I can't condone leaving out half the title of the book (and thinking a red carpenter's square counts as decoration), I can begrudgingly acknowledge that Ron Pearlman and Benedict Cumberbatch's love child is excellent Crowley casting. I think I give this a solid dark academia/10. Tier: Good (Omens)

8. France, De bons présages covers continued

Just imagine with me, if you will, the absolutely hilarious reality that this cover posits: Good Omens is exactly the same in every respect, but Crowley drives a pink 1950s convertible. Why do all of the colours on this cover look like they've been pre-digested? Why are the font choices and placement so bafflingly bad. My face is the demon's face holding that car. I feel his pain.

Tier: WTF

9. France, De bons présages covers continued

Minus points for not managing to write the full title of the book once again. I don't know what it is with the French. They seem pretty set on Good Omens being demonic. While I do appreciate a good Bosch-style demon party, the dude in the middle confounds me. All-caps Museo Sans that isn't even *centred* in the frame is just so lazy. I am le tired. Tier: Bad

10. France, De bons présages covers continued

Uhh. The font. The font is okay.... I think? Yeah. The font and kerning are. Okay. OHHH GOD I LOOKED DOWN BELOW THE TEXT WHYYYY. Tier: WTF

END of round one. I need a nap.

#good omens 2 #good omens fandom #good omens #art director talks good omens #tier list #cover art #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale x crowley #book cover #go s2 #gomens #good omens analysis

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kookwashere · 8 months

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Can we get over it?

Summary: You and Jungkook grew up together, you ate from the same lunch box, rode the same bus, cried on each others shoulders, until his new girlfriend came in between you two and you both got into an argument and began to hate each other, but can you guys just get over it?

Warning: Contains fluff (my baby 😭), smut (yeehaw bois) oral (f&m), soft AND rough sex, riding, OC is a virgin, Jungkook is experienced but still gentle with OC, breeding kink, petnames (Baby, my love) language (Obviously) Aftercare, smut with very little plot 😋 This is my first ff so please don't expect it to be good 😔

Pain. That's what I felt as I laid in bed, curled in a ball, with dark chocolate and a heating pad on my stomach.

I didn't feel like going to school today, why? Well, what a very "lucky" day to be a woman, right? This period seems to be worse than some of the other ones i've had.

I groaned in pain as the cramps kept pulsing in pain, it felt like a knife was in my uterus and it was being twisted.

I managed to pick up my phone from my nightstand, I got a text from my friend Eunhye.

Eunhye: gurl u good?

Me: hell no, cramps 🤧

Eunhye: aw im sorry, anything i can do for u?

Me: no, it's ok, did you finish the project for art?

Me: it's due soon

Eunhye: uhhh abt that...

Me: wat?

Eunhye: jungkook is in our group 😭 but don't get mad at me!! i tried to tell the teacher to switch him out

Me: r u fr.

Me: time to switch out of that class

Eunhye: listen, maybe it's not the worst thing, i mean, he is a good artist? it could get us a decent grade

Me: yea but it's HIM and that's the problem

Eunhye: just pls give it a try, why can't yall js get over it?

Me: i wish it was that easy, i gotta go eunnie, love ya

Eunhye: ttyl girl, love u lots

You sighed as you put your phone down, maybe you should just sleep, you got tucked in your burrito blanket and fell into an abyss of darkness.

-----------------------------

"Hey ____" You sighed and looked up, immediately recognizing the voice. "What is it, Jungkook?" You looked back down at your paper, trying to ignore him. "Why weren't you here yesterday?" He pulled out the chair to take a seat next to you.

"Why does it matter to you?" You said and rolled your eyes mentally "I'm just curious, calm down girl," He chuckled "You know, it's cute when you are annoyed." He smiled a bit, "Jungkook? Where's your girlfriend?" You started to become flustered so you changed the topic

"Oh, we broke up." Your jaw dropped, Mimi and Jungkook were basically like the golden couple, the couple that everyone wanted to be, they were like in love with each other, what happened?

"You and Mimi broke up? Why?" You put your pencil down, now stopping your work to listen. "She was just to controlling, she didn't even let me hangout with any other girls, I couldn't do it, plus, there are plenty other girls that are way better than her in this school." He explained, "Oh yeah? Like who" You said and crossed your arms looking at him. "Hm, well," He looked up thinking while leaning back and crossing his arms too "Bomi's pretty hot, so her...Your friend Hannie, and well..." He put up fingers naming the girls and then paused, "Well.." He chuckled once again "You."

"H-huh? Me? What?? Why?" You were shocked "Calm down, ___. You are just...like the perfect girlfriend, I mean, you are smart, you have a good sense of humor, you are drop dead gorgeous, what else can I say?" He smiled to himself, looking down.

"I-I'm what? Gorgeous?" You turned away, flustered again. "Have you seen yourself, ___? Every boy in this school wants you are has wanted you, no exceptions." You felt your breathing getting faster, as well as your heart beat. "Every boy...does that mean you too?" You whispered, he went silent and looked down "I have to go now, bye loser" He teased you and smiled.

"Why can't we just get over it?" You mumbled under your breath, playing with your fingers.

-----------------

Okay, okay, Jungkook is coming over today for the project, Jeon Jungkook, my enemy, my first crush, my only crush.

I wish Eunhye was here but she got the cold, fuck you cold weather.

You were getting a snack and then you heard the door knock, you took in a deep breath and opened the door, seeing one of the most handsome man you have ever seen.

"Hi, Jungkook."

"Hello, ____."

"Come in, it's cold outside," You moved out of the way so he could come in, "Ah, so you do care about me." He smiled "Shut up or i'll lock you out instead." You closed the door.

"Where are your parents?" He asked while taking his jacket and shoes off "Out of town, my aunt died so they are at her funeral." You said while getting everything ready "I'm sorry for your loss, why aren't you there with them?" You sat down next to him on your bed "I wasn't very close with my aunt, I didn't know her that well.." You said and played with your fingers again

Jungkook went quiet, we both sat in silence for what felt like forever. "____, that fight that we had that night, I never wanted that to happen, you were the only good thing in my life and I just let you go." He was still looking away from you, you looked up at him. "Then why? You knew what she was doing to me, and still, you always picked her...it's like I didn't even exist to you anymore or I was just a burden in your life." He finally looked up at you too, looking in your eyes.

"You never have, never was, and never will be a burden in my life...I guess I was just scared." He laughed at himself. "It's silly, I know..." You licked your lips "Scared of what, Jungkook?" You scooted closer to him. He took a deep breath in and out, "I was scared of my feelings, I mean, fuck. You were the most beautiful, caring, funny, smart girl I have met, I guess I was scared I couldn't ever admit my feelings for you..." Your eyes widened "____, I don't hate you, if anything, those feelings never changed, I don't like you anymore, I love you, I'm sorry if that was sudden but I-" You cut him off.

"I love you too, Jungkook."

"You what?" His jaw was dropped "I said I love you too, I don't care if it sounds selfish but you don't know how long i've been waiting for you two to break up." You giggled a bit "I've liked you sense we were kids Kook," You smiled at him "I really really-" This time it has his turn to cut you off, but not with words, his lips were tangled with yours, one of his hands on your cheek and the other one on your waist.

"You don't even know how long I have wanted to do that..." He whispered and pulled you into a kiss again.

The kiss got more intense and he pushed you down onto the mattress and came above you"

"Mmh" He groaned into the kiss and pulled away, "Do you..do you want to?" He asked still hovering above you. You nodded and pulled him back down to kiss.

He started unbuttoning your blouse as you guys were kissing, you sat up to let him slide it off, then he pulled away from the kiss to slide the shirt over his head.

"Can I?" His fingers fiddled over the top of your panties "Yes." You whispered softly

You lifted your bottom up off the bed so he can pull your panties off, he threw them somewhere across the room, and let his fingers slide all over your body to your back, he undid your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders.

He takes a moment, taking in a deep breath, eyes scanning over your body, taking it in "Fuck, you're so beautiful...most beautiful girl in the whole world, my pretty baby..." He rubbed his hands on your legs, brining your feet up on his shoulder, he gave a soft gentle kiss against your foot and set it down

"Jungkook..." You whined "What is it baby? How do you want me? Hm?" His eyes still taking your beautiful frame in

"I want you here..." Your hand resting ever so gently over your mid section. "I'll get there my love, just be patient." He said while kissing down your thighs, going in a zigzag line between each thigh until his mouth was over your pussy.

With one lick against your clit, you developed goosebumps over your body "Kook- Mmh" You moaned softly.

His long tongue went over your clit, kissing, licking, sucking, with his mouth over your clit, he shook his head side to side to get you closer to your high.

"Kookie...I-I'm gonna...mmm- cum.." You said and gripped his hair "Yeah? let go for me baby, cum all over my face, you can do it baby, let go..." He mumbled, sending vibrations through your whole body starting on your mid section.

You released over his face, wetting it, soaking your bed sheets. "Good job baby, good girl..." He whispered while coming back up to kiss you so you can taste yourself.

"Jungkook, I want to help you too." You said softly. "Baby...you really don't have to, it's okay." He looked down at you

"No, I want too. Please?" You pleaded "Fuck, alright, yeah." He breathed out

He layed on his back, head resting against the pillows, you kissed down his chest, defined abs and toned body, reaching his jeans, sliding them off, then the exact same with his boxers, his cock hard and leaky, veins running his big length.

"Can you take it baby?" He asked teasingly "You know I can." You whispered before grabbing his length in your small hand. "Mmm, oh fuck...s-shit..." He moaned gently.

Jungkook was very vocal in bed, sometimes when he had girls over you could hear him, sometimes even louder than the girl, that was very rare though.

"A-ahh, baby, can you take it in your mouth? Please...I need it.." He whined, you slowly enveloped his cock with your mouth, gagging noises filled the room, your eyes getting teary.

"Oh my god...like that babygirl..." He tilted his head back, your hands caressed his balls and he whined at that, moving your head faster with his hand.

"B-baby, I need to cum...where c-can I?" He stuttered because he was about to see stars. You didn't answer so he presumed down your mouth, and he was right.

"O-oh yeah...shit! Oh my fucking god baby..." He cummed down you're throat, you tasted the salty liquid and swallowed it like the good girl you are for him.

"Can I fuck you now? Please.." He practically was begging "Yes, take me, im all yours Kook." You layed your back on the mattress again.

He put hands on each of your knees, slowly spreading your legs apart, seeing your pink pussy dripping with need for him, that only he could make happen.

"You are all mine, my girl, my princess, my pretty baby, my little cum slut." He said while looking down at your cunt, giving it a slap, making you jolt.

"Can I put it in now baby? I'll go slow...I promise." He said and grabbed his shaft in his hand "Yes, oh god please Jungkook."

He moved his hand up and down, getting on his knees while the top of his hand was filled with his pre-cum that had leaked out.

He slowly slide in with easily, your wetness helping both you and him to feel more comfortable. "I-Is this okay?" His breathing quickened and you nodded.

"I-I'm gonna move now, okay baby?" He slowly moved his hip back so only the tip stayed in, then slowly pushed it forward, you were already addicted to the feeling it gave you, and he felt the same way.

"Fuck, you're so tight...such a good fit for my fat cock." He breathed out, face stuffed in your shoulder and neck.

He started slow at first then started going faster, the headboard was rocking against the wall, you were pretty sure you were going to receive noise complaints.

"Ride me." He said out of breath. You winced when he pulled out and flipped you on top of him, he helped you guide him in and you sunk down, moaning loudly and throwing your head back.

"Come on babygirl, show your boyfriend what a good girl you are...only for me, no one else." You slowly moved up and down, gaining a steady rhythm, his hands were all over your body, your ass, waist, hips, your breasts that were bouncing right in front of him.

"That's a good girl, that's a good fucking girl..." He growled out "Nobody in this fucking world gets to have this cunt, just me, just your boyfriend." You whined again "You like that huh?" You nodded fast, still riding him hard, his hands intertwined with yours and you rode him faster.

He threw his head back and his eyebrows furrowed, biting on his bottom lip. "Shit, I think i'm gonna cum baby..." You nodded "I-I am too..." You whimpered feeling a knot in your belly, trying to chase that feeling.

"You gonna let me cum in you? You gonna let me fuck a baby into you? Let you be my baby mama?" He growled and flexed his hips up to meet you in the middle.

"Oh yes! I will Jungkook, take all of me.." You moaned out.

"I-I'm cumming..." He moaned and came inside you, just a few seconds later you came, your legs shaking and back arching.

You rolled off of him, onto the side right by him, and he slowly pulled out of you. He kissed your forehead and got up to clean the mess. When he was done he joined you back in bed and cuddled you.

"Fuck, that was amazing, you're amazing.." He whispered while playing with your hair "Thank you Kook, the feelings mutual." You giggled

"I love you so much, ____, words can't even describe it." He whispered "I love you too, Jungkook." You smiled, and he smiled back sighing contently, but also while wondering,

"Why couldn't we just get over it?"

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #smut #bts smut #bts #kpop ff #jeon jungkook #jungkook oneshot #jungkook romance #romance #kpop romance #jungkook fluff #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #jungkook love

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weirdmarioenemies · 2 months

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Name: Fujitsumon

Debut: Digimon Pendulum 2.0 Deep Savers (kind of. It's a little complicated. But don't worry about that)

Fujitsumon is a darling little eyes-in-a-void barnacle! With their brown exteriors, they really do bring to mind Jawas, world-renowned eyes-in-a-void creature. This is a rare design choice for a barnacle, and a barnacle is a rare creature inspiration choice! Too rare! They are such incredible and fascinating animals, and should absolutely be represented as such, and not just background decorations!

Fujitsumon is essentially a Digimon by technicality, an accessory of a creature, and I'm fine with that. They're acknowledged as creatures, and that's enough for me! They're almost always seen attached to the surface of another creature, and that sure is barnacle of them!

This is their host, Octomon! Or Octmon, if you don't like the dub name, but I think Octomon sounds better. Octomon wears a clay pot on its head, and Fujitsumon live on top of that! This is a smart setup. If I lived underwater I would love to wear a hat that some barnacle friends of mine could live on! Fujitsumon and Octomon have a mutualistic relationship going on, where the barnacles will sense danger, and warn the octopus of it, getting the whole group out of danger!

The reason I wasn't so sure about Fujitsumon's debut is that in Deep Savers, Octomon's sprite looks like this, not nearly detailed enough to even depict some barnacles! However, it does seem like the official art was made around this time, so I might as well consider this Fujitsumon's debut too.

There isn't much to Fujitsumon, but I love it! It's cute, it's a barnacle, and it's almost a "secret" creature, and that makes it, dare I say, even more fun than if it was a standalone obtainable Digimon! A charming little oddity in the digital world.

That's what I thought until I found out this little barnacle has a whole dedicated ANIME EPISODE! YEEHAW! This is the best barnacle-related cartoon episode I've ever seen! Better than SpongeBob SquarePants episode 164a Barnacle Face! Why, even better than Benny the Barnacle (2022)! Can you believe it? Better than Benny the Barnacle? I can.

In this episode of Digimon Ghost Game, the human protagonist is tormented by premonitions of disasters occurring to everyone around him, revealed to be caused by a Fujitsumon settled on his head. A land mammal is no place for a barnacle! Wouldn't it be crazy if you could go to the beach and leave with a barnacle settled on your fingernail? What would you even do? I would probably feel obligated to dip my finger into the ocean regularly to let it filter-feed. If only we had air plankton!

This Fujitsumon, as well as others that are affecting other humans, come from one particular Octomon, who got so angry at his barnacles that they Left. These are no real-life, cemented-in-place-for-the-rest-of-their-lives barnacles! They can just get up and leave if they're bothered. I bet real barnacles wish they could do that! It would be so embarrassing to end up settled right next to a turtle's... hehe... I shan't say...!

Octomon's petty outburst was over his magic brain barnacles not using their clairvoyance to help him win at a mobile game. Now, because of his Gamer Moment, there are Fujitsumon stuck directly to peoples' heads, which can cause these heads to explode. Maybe he should have just played a good mobile game, like Pico Pets Puzzle! *high fives someone offscreen*

Don't worry! Everything's ok in the end, like it always is with invertebrate friends! Octomon apologizes, the lead Fujitsumon gathers the whole crusty crew, and everything is fine except for the physical damage that has already been done, but don't worry! The virtual invertebrates are all friends again! Squishy or chitinous, none of us have spines, and that's what matters!

If you know of any obscure barnacles in media, please let me know in the notes! And until the next high tide, remember to close your armored plates to prevent dessication!

#fujitsumon #octomon #digimon #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako

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ghoul-bonez · 1 year

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~When Feelings Feel Like Too Much~

(Platonic! Jake Sully x Daughter! Reader)

Summary: Depression can be suffocating, and suck you into what feels like a pit nobody can help you out of. Except for your dad. He will always be there for you.

Word count: 2k

Author's note: Literally just a vent story yeehaw? Not very well written I just needed to get shit out and why not turn it into an angsty fanfic for others to enjoy???

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, self harm, depression

~Masterlist~

When Feelings Feel Like Too Much

Sometimes life feels like it’s too much. Everything is too much.

The sounds of the forest and highcamp that you love so much begin to hurt your ears, and give you a headache. Birds chirping which would usually bring you joy made you feel like your ears were being stabbed by a knife. Every slight noise hurts, making you increasingly more and more irritated.

The light from the sun seemed too bright during the day, and the fires at night burned your eyes. The feeling was unbearable, like you would rather be blind than have to deal with the overwhelming pain the bright lights brought you. You were always squinting, trying to keep the light as low as possible, and your eyes were starting to pay the price, they stung when you would close them.

Smells were sickening, to the point of gagging. Even flowers you used to love the smell of were making you feel sick. It made you sad you couldn’t enjoy them anymore, but it seemed like there was nothing you could do to help.

Your favorite clothes made you itchy. They made you feel like your skin was burning, like you were set on fire. Nothing was comfortable to wear. On top of that any touch from your family felt like burns too. Every hug from Tuk, every gentle touch from Kiri, anytime Lo’ak would smack you jokingly, Neteyam’s pats on the head. It all burned.

Your favorite foods started tasting off. Some foods would taste too spicy, some fruits tasting too sweet, some foods just tasted gross in general. The off taste made you lose your appetite every time, like your mom had somehow messed up the recipe.

Your mom, Neytiri. She was always there for you, she loved you more than anything else, just like the rest of the family. She would do anything for you, sacrifice her own life to save yours. You loved her, but sometimes you couldn’t stand spending time with her. She never did anything wrong, but your mood was just too sour and you didn’t want it to rub off on anyone else.

Your dad was the best of all. You were one of his baby girls, and he would never let you forget that. You were so special, irreplaceable, but you felt replaceable. You didn't feel special, not in any good way at least. You felt special in the fragile way, in an anything could hurt you way.

You felt like you couldn’t share your burden with anyone. Nobody could know. Your brain told you nobody would even care if they knew, although you knew that was just the negative thoughts in your head. As those thoughts nagged you you sunk deeper and deeper into the depths of your emotions.

Most nights after you were supposed to be asleep you would sneak off to have some alone time. Some time to process your emotions, on your own. You couldn’t process them around other people.

When you were overwhelmed, everything about being around people was too much. Even the sound of their breathing would be enough to cause a breakdown.

So you sat in your special place, alone.

It was beautiful, and if you weren’t so upset every time you came maybe you could admire it a bit more. A small pond was hidden in a particularly dense part of the forest, where nobody really went. Little fish swarmed your feet as they dangled in it from where you were sitting.

You didn’t really cry, not anymore. It felt as if you had cried all the tears you had, leaving nothing left besides sorrow and sadness, with no way to express those emotions. No way to release them into the world.

You felt numb, maybe that’s why you couldn’t cry. Maybe numb wasn’t exactly the right word, you felt things, but they were bad, and you couldn’t feel anything good. You were never happy, never excited. Everything good was just numb, not there.

You had tried to get yourself to feel something in many ways, but the only way to feel something was by hurting yourself. By running a knife along your forearms. Even then the feelings were short lived. It was like a high you couldn’t stop chasing.

You wanted to feel excited and happy but nothing would evoke those emotions inside you. You used to be so positive, and every little thing could bring your sour mood up. Now it was different.

You know your parents were trying to help with that, bringing you your favorite fruits, or telling your favorite stories from when you were little. They knew something was wrong and you’d be dumb or in denial if you didn’t realize that.

Since they had noticed you had started becoming a better actress, pretending everything was fine. They couldn't know the extent of your problems. They would be mad, sad, and worst of all disappointed. You didn’t think you could take that disappointment.

Even when you realized your parents noticed you were off, something that you didn’t notice was your dad’s actions. He had been trying so hard to help you, from the sidelines, where he was most comfortable.

He had begun following you around more, watching you to make sure you were okay. He felt weird watching you from a distance, but his fatherly instincts to protect and make sure his kids were okay overpowered the awkwardness.

He had even noticed your habit of sneaking off at night. He brought it up to Neytiri who said she wanted to follow you, but he felt it needed to be him. Tonight he set his plan into action, following behind you as you made your way through the forest. He stayed far enough back that you wouldn’t notice him, slinking through the shadows.

When you arrived at your destination he hid behind a tree, observing you. When you didn’t move, or do anything but stare at your feet in the water for a while he decided to make his move. He needed to figure out what was wrong, what was going on.

Your dad approached you carefully, slowly, like if he made any sudden movements you would scatter away, “What’s wrong baby girl?”

You were startled by his presence, but quickly turned your body away from him as he sat down next to you, “Nothing. I’m fine.”

He sighed, taking a deep breath afterwards, “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong. All I want to do is help you.”

Tears built at your waterline as you thought about what to tell your dad. You could tell the truth, bring forth all of your emotions and admit you had a problem, a big problem. A problem you couldn’t solve on your own. A problem you desperately wanted help with, but just couldn’t seem to ask.

You breathed in, then out, deciding it was best to tell your dad, “Dad, I hurt.” He can’t help you unless he knows what’s wrong.

Jake was still turned towards you while you faced away from him. He moved slowly, gently placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to be comforting, but it was enough to make the tears start streaming. Finally something to make you cry after feeling like you couldn’t for weeks.

He asked, “Where baby girl?”

You sniffled, exhaustion from your pent up emotions was starting to make you groggy, making your body feel heavy but you picked up your hand, and pointed to your head, “Up here.”

Jake didn’t make you look at him as he spoke to you, your responses were enough for now. It hurt you were hiding your crying from him, but he understood you might need some space.

He continued to be careful with you, using broad questions, “Okay, where on your head.”

You mumbled, “Inside.”

He hummed, “A headache?”

You sighed then, turning to him for the first time where he could see your tears. The sight of the liquid streaming down your face, and your little sniffles and hiccups from crying, hurt him more than anything he had ever experienced before.

He brought you into a hug as you spoke, “No my emotions. They don’t feel good. I never feel happy and I feel like everyone’s eyes are always on me. I’m paranoid that the RDA and Quaritch are always right around the corner. I always feel so overwhelmed. It hurts and the only way I can stop it is by hurting myself.”

Jake took a second to think, forming another open question, “So you’re depressed?”

You shrugged as good as you could in his arms, “I guess…”

He just squeezed you tighter for a second, and for once a hug felt nice, not too overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. Can I see where you’re hurting yourself?”

You shook your head quickly, “No. You’re going to tell mom and she’s going to be upset.” Pausing, thinking before you speak, admitting your biggest fear, “You’re going to be upset.”

“I promise I won’t.” He hummed for a second, an internal battle going on. He wanted to be open with you, to let you know you weren’t alone, “Let me tell you something, I’ve felt how you’re feeling right now. All of it. I was depressed when I was on earth, nothing seemed like it was able to help me, and I used unhealthy coping mechanisms. I’m also always paranoid that Quaritch is right around the corner. I have nightmares that he’s gotten you or one of your siblings. So I feel your pain. All of it. I just want to help, so please show me and I can help.”

After hearing all of that, your fathers admission, and that you weren’t alone in this you couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked through your body. They were harsh and strong as you breathed heavily and quickly, almost hyperventilating.

Jake didn’t know what to do, it felt like he was paralyzed all over. So he just held you, trying his best to be comforting as he took deep steady breaths for you to copy as you began to calm down after a few minutes.

“Are you ready to show me?” He asked.

You simply nodded, yes, before baring your wrists to him. They were covered in thin lines, some older and more scabbed over, but more were new and red, still barely crusted over by blood.

Jake’s breath caught in his throat, it felt like it was closing up. He couldn’t bare to see them anymore so he grabbed your hands, flipping them back over and holding them.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he could say. Too many thoughts were going on in his head to say anything else. His mind was jumbled, thoughts scattered around, wound around each other.

You sighed, “Why are you sorry? I should be the one saying sorry.”

Jake shook his head, “You have no reason to say sorry. I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable enough to come to me with this.”

You sniffled, trying to hold back more tears that wanted to fall, “I didn’t come to you because I thought you would be mad at me… disappointed.”

He squeezed your hands that were still held in his, “I could never be mad at you for this.”

A small smile tried to rise on your face, “So, you’re not upset with me?”

Jake sighed, thinking, “I wish you would have come to me sooner, but no, I’m not upset.”

“Okay…” Was your simple reply, but it was enough.

Jake couldn’t stop himself from pulling you into another hug. As he held you he muttered, “I love you.”

You let out a content sigh, a smile really coming to your face, “I love you too dad. Thank you.”

Now when feelings feel like too much you can go to your dad. You have someone to lean on, and that seems like enough to start recovering from your deep depression.

You will start recovering. You will feel better.

It will get better.

#avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #fanfic #fanfiction #avatar movie #atwow #atwow fanfiction #atwow fics #platonic jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader

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rynnaissance · 3 months

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ok so for future reference, if i ever do continue working on my fic, how do we think bell’s hells would be at driving cars in a modern au? i’ve got ideas, but i want to hear other people’s input.

here’s what i’ve got:

chetney: DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH CHETNEY WHATEVER YOU DO. that senior citizen is batshit insane and he WILL road rage. if someone cuts him off then wherever he was going is forgotten because he has to tailgate that person now while yelling at them to pull over so they can “talk.” i can’t decide if he would have a really nice car or a really shitty one because honestly both fit. maybe a fancy truck for hauling wood?

orym: he’s your safest bet out of the hells if you want to get somewhere on time without fearing for your life. bro is a law abiding citizen of the road. he never loses his cool (unlike chet) and his car is always clean and smells super nice. he mostly listens to meditation style music, but he’ll let the other person have the aux because he’s genuinely curious to hear what they listen to. shout out to orym.

laudna: okay back to the insanity. ALSO DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH LAUDNA! girlie pop should not be on the road. she’s blasting the weirdest fucking genres of metal imaginable, she can hear nothing else. the music only somewhat drowns out the horrible keening noises her car makes, as if it’s begging to die. that thing hasn’t been to the shop in decades and omits the occasional plume of black smoke that smell like burnt hair and buttered popcorn for some reason? i saw someone else talk about how she’s a crazy driver with everyone except imogen who she drives very well for and never blasts music, and i like that idea a lot.

imogen: it was her dad’s truck before her’s, a farm vehicle meant for rural roads with four wheel drive. it’s pretty beat up, but it’s reliable. imogen hates driving though, as it can be super overwhelming in the city, and prefers to go with laudna. outside of the city, on rural roads where you won’t see another car for miles, she finds it almost as relaxing as horseback riding. she likes to cruise around with her widows down, shamelessly listening to country music. yeehaw.

ashton: should you get in a car with ashton? depends on the day, as they are kind of a wild card. one day, it might be a chill drive with you two causally exchanging stories, like sober “what the fuck is up with that?” other times you better hold onto your seat because you are getting to your location regardless of how traffic is flowing. ashton is the person who cuts chetney off. it may be on purpose, no one knows for certain, but he always seems to manage to find the old man and make his day a little more difficult. if they see someone they know, they’ll lay on horn and yell, “hey asshole!” with a wave and a grin. the car itself is covered in stickers and sharpie graffiti, interior and exterior. you’ll always know it’s him.

fearne: does she have a license? she would say yes. the truth is no. fearne was never taught how to drive, she just kinda figured it out as she went along. because of ashton, she used to think honking is a friendly thing, but had to be informed by fcg that those people are not just saying hi, but are actually mad at her. she didn’t like that very much. she doesn’t seem to be aware that there are any dangers to driving. she’s almost always getting into crashes, which she responds to with a giggle and a “whoops(:” it’s a marvel she hasn’t been arrested yet. there’s also an angry possum that’s sometimes found in the truck of her car, so it’s best not to open it.

fcg: much like orym, fcg is a very safe person to drive with. although maybe a little annoying, as he’ll let everyone go before him at a four way stop regardless of if it’s actually their turn. sometimes though, when they’re under a lot of stress, they resemble chetney more. they won’t tolerate any bullshit from other drivers and yell at pedestrians to get out of the way. he’s been getting better about this though, but still.

#critical role #cr campaign three #bell’s hells #bell’s hells modern au #chetney pock o'pea #orym of the air ashari #cr laudna #imogen temult #ashton greymoore #fearne calloway #cr fcg #again i would love to hear other people’s ideas too

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dolliehina · 2 months

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Hello! Since you're taking requests, how about gender-bend Epel? Do they look girlie or are they now dude-adjacent? Does this impact her relationships at all?

I've thought about this for a while, and I never really settled on anything until I saw what @quartztwst thought Fem! Epel would be like, and I completely agree. So, just make sure to check out their post on it!!

*Ahem*

~°•♡•°~

♡- Fem! Epel is an interesting girl.. uh. She's the kind of girl who's like, "I'm not like other girls," but she's not a pick me??? She just is the kind of girl who says "I don't wear makeup" or "Ew that's such a girl color," and kind of be the type of girl who acts tough and not "girly", not to set herself apart from other girls, but because she doesn't wanna seem weak or like a "damsel in distress" yknow? Except the way she goes about it is more toxic.

♡- I always thought Fem Epel would be the kind of girl who would cut her hair short, like pixie length to seem more tomboyish? She doesn't really mean to put other girls down, nor is she trying to. She just wants to be seen as a tough girl, so she sort of abandoned her femininity?? Like stopped wearing dresses or skirts because she wanted to be taken seriously. (But she doesn't do it for male validation, and she doesn't put down other girls for what they do in front of men. She really only acts like this - ONCE AGAIN, to be taken seriously, even though she's going about it all the wrong way.)

♡- But after book 5 when Fem! Vil fixes her (Period) she starts to embrace her feminine side more? She realizes that there is strength to being feminine and dolling up. So she starts wearing dresses, makeup, and all of that stuff again, but she still doesn't drop her tough girl act. She still acts all tough, probably swears, and just wants equality tbh.

♡- If you're dating Fem! Epel after book 5, I don't think it would make much of a difference because she would date her lover because they didn't underestimate her or see her as weak. And even after book 5, if you're supportive of her starting to embrace her femininity and feminine side? She might as well just marry you.

♡- Fem Epel! Would be a bit insecure at first because she didn't know if you were dating her at first for her more dainty side that Vil made her do? Or if you genuinely liked her. But she will let the accent slip (Yeehaw 🤠) around you, and if you like it, she would start showing it more, but would try to make sure you could still understand her, lol.

♡- I personally don't think Fem! Epel would really care about gender? If you're a girl, she might be confused, but she'd try it out (and she loved it). If you're a boy? Cool, though she's a bit shy around you because she had never talked to boys her age, and she tries to act more feminine around you, just because she doesn't know what to do around boys?? And that's what Vil told her to do?? If you're anything else? Slay, she's willing to try new things. After living with Fem Vil, she has an open mind to it.

♡- But the whole feminine thing aside, she's a very sweet girl, and she means well. She'll bake you apple pies, tarts, maybe carve you a heart apple? She's not good with romance, though, so you might have to teach her a few things. She likes motorcycle dates or stargazing. She just wants to spend quality time with you tbh.

♡- If you date her, you date her family. She tells them all about you, and you better treat her right, or all of Harveston will know. Her Meemaw is already planning your wedding. Just know Harveston is a small town, so they do kind of rush things, so just be prepared for that. She will tell them to stop, though, for her sake and yours.

♡- Overall? 8/10 quality tomboy gf. As long as you don't try and tell her how to act or what to do, not to mention get her town to like you? You're Gucci. She's sweet and considerate but is prone to physical fights with other girls. So just.. yeah, make sure she doesn't get in trouble.

#twisted wonderland #epel felmier #twst epel #twisted wonderland epel #epel x reader #twst genderbend #fem twst #fem twisted wonderland #genderbend x reader #genderbend #twst x gn reader #twst x reader #🎀

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butchfalin · 1 year

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ive thought about doing a bracket of my favorite characters but i think i would maybe just be sad about it when they got eliminated WHDSKJS like if any of them got terribly ratioed i think i might be devastated. And also i have like two characters that are my all time favorites and so it would be pointless to go against them in my mind because they always win. But also it would be fun i think and i am maybe just overthinking it

#LIKE..... IT DOESNT MATTER. except that maybe it does #yeehaw

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 14 days

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I was reading through at the most recent chapter of Amulette D'Amour and I could have sworn Aberforth had said his father went after the muggle boys and straight up just killed them, then went on trial saying he did it because he hated muggles and was proud of what he did, to cover up what happened to Ariana.

Then I checked the wiki and it was completely different from what I remember reading and now I'm very confused. Is it just me? Maybe I got it mixed up with a fanfic or something but I rarely read HP fanfic (except yours and vinelle's). I didn't watch the movies either.

Well, the movies generally aren't very helpful with anything, anon. They skip a lot and then when it comes to magic will often make creative choices such as Apparition leaving weird smoke trails for no apparent reason.

In the books we're only told "attacked" and so it's presumed no one died from it (that would be a bit spicy for JKR, I think). It just must have been enough to have gotten the man sentenced to Azkaban, though we don't know how long he was supposed to be in there as he died in prison. Percival never admitted to why he did it to protect Ariana, we don't know if he covered it up with "I'm a raging blood purist, yeehaw", but it's probably not the case/he just refused to admit to any reasoning whatsoever.

You probably got your version from a fic or else from the implication of "well, he went to Azkaban and didn't come out, so death?"

#harry potter #harry potter meta #percival dumbledore #meta

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docholligay · 5 months

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Dr. Holligay Tries Things That Aren't Running: Cycling

In the most technical sense, I have done cycling before. That it was 8 years ago and once did not seem to even cause me a moment's pause. I have done this before! This is fine, and then I will get my little sticker to help me win my unbelievably stupid kitchen item.

So I walk into the cycling room, and I set up my bike. I don't remember anything about how a bike is supposed to fit, except maybe something vague about the seat hitting at your hip, which I manage to do, and then set up my silly little water bottle, and sit on the bike, waiting.

This place is PACKED. Everyone else is either also trying to win a kitchen item, or whatever other prizes they have that I have completely ignored, or, they have actual goals for their lives that are not about saving 300 bucks at the specialty kitchen store. Most alarmingly, everyone else seems to know what they are doing, while I'm sitting here hoping nobody notices my eyes are wandering desperately about the place.

The lights turn off, replaced by various LED strings in green and purples, as a woman with a pixie haircut* and a bright smile walked into the room and immediately switched the music on. All of a sudden, we are in the club. It is loud and thumping through my chest. I know I complain about noise a lot, and it is very true, but there's something I very much like about music so loud that you can feel it in your body and most importantly, you can't hear anything else. A lot of what annoys me about noise is the crowding of it. Anyway, you don't care about that, but I immediately start warming up a little faster.

So deep was I in this clubbing moment that the instructor, she of the pixie haircut, who I'm going to call Straight Country Lena, which will tell you how the rest of this is going to go, SCARES THE SHIT OUT OF ME by appearing at my side and going, "Chocolate espresso bean?"

I damn near jump off the bike, and she starts laughing. Her smile is huge, and her nose wrinkles when she does it.

"Sorry! I know the music is loud, it's loud because...it's my class and I like it loud." another peal of laughter. "Amanda teaches it quieter, if you like that. Oh! Let me bring up your handlebar, it's too low. Espresso bean? They're chocolate."

All of this has happened over the span of less than 30 seconds and suddenly my handlebar is up, and I gratefully accept an espresso bean. She offers everyone in class a bean, and then goes up to the front and puts on her mic.

"Hi there! In January I try to remember to introduce myself. Letr's do a warmup, yeah, alright, my name's Lena, lots of new faces toiday I love that--parking was awful today, wundnit? God. But you know what?" ANother big smile, "Oh, stretch out your back right now--I was thinkin, I hope every person who's here in January is here in July. So I can share the lot. It's okay if you didn't get your favorite bike. Right, good story Lena, I'm Lena! I teach cycling and early morning group power, I'm a little bit yeehaw, so there's other teachers, I won't take it personally. Let's go!"

Y'ALL.

I am a woman of intense energy. I am reasonably athletic. I have nothing on SCL. She is riding her bike at 100 rpms or better, and every once in a while, she glaces down at her resistance and goes, "Okay, I'm at a 22, so figure yourselves out from there!" while I'm dying at a 13. We're huffing and puffing and she's singing along, and dancing on the bike. She's cheering for individual people who are obviously regulars.

We get into a part of the class that's like, sprints, and she goes, "I went to school on a rodeo scholarship so we're gonna BARREL RACE**" which by the way, is bearing down for a sprint as HARD AS YOU POSSIBLY CAN for a solid 20 seconds, while she--also doing it, by the way-- is telling you to push! that!! pony!! At the edge of every sprint she'd go, top of her lungs, "YEEEEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAWWWWWWW!!" and the regulars would do it right back though I have no idea how.

Some other quotes from her rambling while also doing a huge, athletic workout.

"I have to teach a chunk of classes every morning or my husband'll divorce me" laughter, again, "He says I'm a sheepdog and need too much activity"

"Don't mind me I just keep talking sometimes. Some people have verbal diarrhea but I've got Montezuma's revenge up here"

"Every year I say I'm gonna get ripped and then I remember I have a kid and drink beer."

"Do we all like the music? Tell me what you like and I'll work it into next week. Unless I hate it."

*My personal favorite, after someone asked her if something was dangerous* "Well, you gotta die of something."

And then she capped off our final sprint by running around the room, up and down every row of bikes, ringing a cowbell over her head and occasionally jumping going "last push! last push! Let's do it! Then you can join me for the core class next door after!"

The woman was insane. i loved her. I will not attend cycling again as it is is everything I find hard about running and none of the things I like about it, only also add weight to your legs, and while I'm sure it would be great crosstraining for my legs I also hated this class while being able and willing to join her cult at a moment's notice. I want her in my ear when I run.

But I got my sticker, and I am definitely going to her core class.

*There IS a difference between a men's haircut and a pixie haircut. I am very femme, sure, but I have a men's haircut I can pretty easily style feminine. This woman had a pixie haircut which never looks masculine at all to me.

**The minute she said this, I went, "Oh obviously" she was built exactly like a barrel racer, small, but solid

#things that aren't running

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multi-lefaiye · 1 month

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blood-kin roster (as of now)

hiii hello. i keep forgetting to talk about these guys too much on tumblr. or like... explain them. so this is just a masterlist of the ones that have designs so far, using their heroforge models.

anyway, these are some ocs i've been thinking about a LOT lately. i'm mainly developing them for a future d&d campaign, but i also think. maybe they can have their own wip at some point.

the basic rundown and specific characters under the cut! yeehaw!!

content warnings: lots of talk of murder and violence, talk of cults, and also lots of references to "killing off the weak" and shit like that, b/c that's this murder cult's whole thing.

tagging some folks who i think might be interested: @void-botanist @skitzo-kero @anexor @vacantgodling @astral-runic @invaderskoodge

The Blood-kin are the chosen followers of a murderous god known as Mazzakarr, the god of slaughter. Mazzakarr's followers believe in an extreme sort of Darwinism and that only the strongest, who fight for their lives, deserve to survive. They believe the weak-willed must be slaughtered for the strong to continue on.

Among Mazzakarr's followers, his favorites are the blood-kin, a group of people chosen from a young age to be raised by the cult and molded into his perfect followers, his literal chosen ones and extensions of his will. The blood-kin are not related to each other, but they are connected by the fact that Mazzakarr's blood flows through their veins, and their connection to their god gives them power. They are literal extensions of Mazzakarr's presence, tasked with carrying out his will and molding the world in his image.

Though the blood-kin are Mazzakarr's chosen, of course, they still have to earn his favor. After all, what good is a chosen one that's just given their power? No, they must fight for it.

And so, from a very young age, the blood-kin are taught to hate and fear each other, to see each other as threats to their power and authority. They've been slowly picking each other off over the years, one by one, and now, only twelve of the original fifty remain.

And, someday, there will be only one blood-kin remaining. Mazzakarr's perfect, final prophet, beholden entirely to his will alone.

Blade Which Strikes Twice (Twice) (they/he/it) - the wielder of the two-bladed scimitar.

Twice, unlike many of their fellow blood-kin, is a changeling from birth. In their preferred form, they strike an unsettling figure, a living corpse standing well over six feet tall. Their wide, pale eyes watch everyone around them unblinkingly, and their tattooed lips hide jagged teeth like a dog's.

For many years, Twice was one of Mazzakarr's favorite among the blood-kin, having earned his attention when they killed one of their caretakers in the cult at just twelve years old. Their prowess in violence has only grown since then, and they gladly follow orders without hesitation. It's all they know, after all. Their purpose is to follow Mazzakarr, nothing more.

Except... in recent years, Twice has begun to do something strange: they've begun to question Mazzakarr and his teachings. Not that they would ever dare to admit this, but they can't help but wonder... is there more to their purpose in this world?

(Such blasphemy will not be tolerated.)

Axe Which Fells Kings (King) (he/him) - the wielder of the greataxe.

King is one of the more outspoken blood-kin, a self-proclaimed trailblazer who believes that there is more to life than Mazzakarr's little cult. Not that he'd ever turn away from them, of course, but he thinks he's quite above following their orders at every step of the way. The only one he'll obey is Mazzakarr himself; otherwise, he respects no authority but his own.

This insolence has earned him no favors from Mazzakarr's other followers, nor has it served him well with his fellow blood-kin. Still, his boldness has earned him Mazzakarr's approval, and no one's managed to knock that cocky grin off his face yet. Which, naturally, only fuels his ego more. As far as he's concerned, the other blood-kin may as well roll over and let him finish them off, because it's only inevitable that he'll be the last one standing.

Really, they should just give in and stop embarrassing themselves by dragging this out as much as they are.

(As an aside, King's name is merely aspirational--he's never felled any kings, nor any royalty in general. He'll insist he has, though.)

The Poison-Lined Lash (Lash) (she/her) - the wielder of the razor whip.

Lash is fast, quick on her feet and with her tongue in equal measure, with fangs like a snake hidden just beneath her painted smile. She's a talker, finding great joy in bantering with and taunting her prey as she hunts them. More than that, she loves when they return the favor. After all, what's the fun in killing someone who won't make it interesting for her, one way or another?

She loves the thrill of the chase, almost more than the actual kill. As a result, Lash likes to play with her prey, chasing them down before letting them go just to watch them try to escape her again. The game ends when she gets bored and stops finding enjoyment in her sadistic taunts, at which point she'll finish them off quickly.

As her name implies, Lash is also quite fond of poison, carrying vials of the stuff with her at all times. When she's feeling particularly cruel, sometimes she poisons her prey when she catches them the first time, just to watch them try to limp away while slowly dying from whatever toxin she infected them with.

It's so cute that they think they have a chance.

The Shot Which Echoes Like Thunder (Echo) (she/they) - the wielder of the double-barreled rifle.

In many ways, Echo is one of the most devoted followers Mazzakarr has, both among the blood-kin and the rest of his worshipers. She has devoted herself entirely to his cause, chasing the high of hearing his voice ringing in her broken skull, the echo of his praise in every blast.

While the other blood-kin will often focus on a single target at a time, Echo is most concerned with causing as much violence and bloodshed as she can, often with devastating explosions. After all, the more deaths she causes, the more unworthy and weak-willed cattle are purged from the world.

She is a fanatic, through and through, and she is delighted to spread the word of the father of slaughter. Echo isn't much of a leader, and she isn't particularly charismatic, but she is deeply devoted and passionate in a way that makes people pay attention to her. One thing she hates, though, is sharing that spotlight--with anyone. The other blood-kin are, at best, annoyances to her, little flies that need to be squished.

Or, perhaps more accurately, shot.

The Ruby-Red Moon (Moon) (they/it) - the wielder of the ruby sickles.

Moon is a mysterious figure, even among their fellow blood-kin. They're almost never seen without their mask, as they believe wholeheartedly that exposing any flesh is an insult to Mazzakarr. No, they'll be keeping their weak points safe and protected, thank you very much. They look down on the other blood-kin and they're not subtle about it, firmly believing that they are the only one who truly understands his vision.

As their voice is muffled something awful by their mask, Moon speaks through a voice modulator that distorts their voice as much as it makes them easier to understand. They speak with very little inflection or emotion, and they're not particularly expressive in general even without the mask.

Though Moon is just as violent and sadistic as the others, they're much more quiet and lowkey about it. A big, flashy spectacle is not the point, and in fact making a show of each kill is an insult to Mazzakarr. Murder is not about making the biggest spectacle, but about creating a better world for those strong enough to reach for it.

#multi makes text posts #oc rambles #blade which strikes twice #waugh i am so sleepyyyyy #goodnight y'all #undescribed images cw

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theneighborhoodwatch · 1 year

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What are your thoughts on the potential Julie and Frank 'relationship'?

(serious answer under the cut. also, again, disclaimer that this is all speculation and i'm not saying that any of this is 100% For Sure going to happen, i am just speaking within the context of this one particular theory.)

(edit: nvm i might actually be right. yeehaw [said unimaginably haggardly])

i've talked about that before on this blog, in this post specifically (with extra links for context so maybe check it out) and it's still something that i think about A Lot. in that post, i describe it as a source of Mutual horror, i.e. "you were created to both bring out the best in someone and to keep each other shackled to someone else’s incomprehensible idea of normalcy." and when i say incomprehensible, i really do mean incomprehensible; going by a few posts clown's made in the past, the idea of gender being tied to presentation and vice versa seems to be a foreign one to the playfellow puppets - and yet, this does not seem to prevent them from the consequences of being Perceived a certain way. it's also probably worth mentioning that if the 2022 pride art is to be believed, then neither frank or julie are cis, either (for whatever the playfellows puppets' definition/equivalent of "cis" is, anyway.)

i would be lying if i said i haven't thought about Several ways this could all play out; how it could affect both of them as individuals, their other relationships, their pre-existing friendship. i won't go over all of those here bc this post would be way too fucking long otherwise, but i will say that i think that they would have been friends regardless of whether or not the show decided they were (and regardless of whether or not the show wanted friends or "friends."*) i don't think either of them start out Aware that they're "supposed" to be together. i think they are likely made aware of it later on - of how they are seen. in this way, it's a good example of what i meant when i previously described welcome home feeling like a setup for some cosmic horror-as-coming of age shit (or coming of age as cosmic horror??) for example, in this particular context, i saw A Lot of these two scenarios when it came to growing up queer and/or closeted, especially in an unsafe environment: 1. "i'm told that because i spend so much time with this person, and they are (X) and i am (Y), that i am in love with them. i don't think this is true, but i have no idea how to refute this, so i'm just gonna Go Along With It until i am emotionally, mentally, and/or physically no longer able to do so bc i'm scared of what'll happen to me and/or the people i care about if i don't - OH FUCK THAT HAPPENED A LOT SOONER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK"

2. "i'm told that because i spend so much time with this person, and they are (X) and i am (Y), that i am in love with them. i think that's the dumbest fucking thing i've ever heard and it does not apply to me at all" [is punished for this] "Ah." it's just that here, the scale would be magnified to the point of cosmic horror, in order to drive home the turmoil these situations bring, both internal and external. do i think frank and julie would be the only examples of this, or that it is mutually exclusive from any of WH's other potential themes? absolutely not. but if all we have to go off of are crumbs, then We Will Work With Crumbs. * side note, i was gonna talk about how it was interesting that despite knowing next to nothing about frank/eddie in canon except for the fact that It Happens, all of the frank/eddie art we have so far is a lot more unambiguously romantic than any supposed in-universe ship teasing between frank and julie, buuut then i realized that was probably bc we're still in the prologue and all the frank/eddie stuff we have is like, side sketches and concept art. of course it's gonna be more indulgent.

tl;dr: I Care Them and i hope you can tell

#anonymous #ask #welcome home #wh speculation #frank frankly #julie joyful #ask to tag

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michinnyun · 2 years

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Come See About Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x F! Reader

Summary: “I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat. What to like, what to hate, what to rage about. What to listen to, what band to like. What to buy tickets for. What to joke about, what to not joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in. Who to vote for and who to love and how to tell them.” -Fleabag, Season 2: Episode 4 // Hiiiii I was just thinking about this monologue and went a little crazy. Hope you guys like this one.

Tags: Reader Insert × No use of y/n × reader is a farmer yeehaw × Din Djarin Needs a Hug × Good Parent Din Djarin × Mild Hurt/Comfort × Light Dom/sub × Dom Din Djarin × Gentle Kissing × Idiots in Love × p in v sex × Oral Sex × Somnophilia × very light and reader is more than okay with it × so just keep that in mind × Dead Dove: Do Not Eat × mild dubcon × Because Of That × just wanna make sure all bases are covered × oral male recieving × oral female recieving × Face-Fucking × (romantic?) × Deep Throating × Porn with Feelings × Love Confessions × Helmetless Din Djarin × din djarin tells you his name × no gag reflex because fuck realism × i'm just here to post porn and leave okay

Words: 3.5k

Ao3 link

It’s been a year since the last time you saw Mando.

He said not to wait for him. He said that this was the last time.

He said that the time before, too.

You stare out into the fields from your little hut, watching the sun go down over stalks growing like weeds. The farm is doing okay. It’s fine. The droids help. Mando got them, said he picked them up on a mission by accident and figured you could use them. Sure. They were brand new, no record of a system reboot in their software. A few scorch marks, but you figure that’s Mando’s fault somehow. He never comes back to you unscathed.

Mando hates droids, so that must mean he really likes you. At least, that’s what you thought. And then a month went by, and then another one. No comms. Nothing.

The people in the village are nice. You’ve been around long enough that they’ve finally gotten used to you. You do your business in town, exchange greetings, and go back to your little corner of the planet.

No one ever bothers you. No one except him.

He’s never gone this long without stopping by. You’d be worried if you weren’t constantly checking the hunter channels. Mandalorians are few and far between, and if he had been killed you’d know about it by now.

Then, finally, you do hear about him. He’s the one being hunted. You frown. Figures. The Hunter’s Guild is not the most professional operation in the galaxy.

The next time you see him, it’s with a child in tow. __

“Oh. Hello there,” you breathe, startled by the little green bundle in his arms.

Mando is stoic, quiet. You want to ask where the baby came from, but you know better. Maybe the little guy is his. He could be, for all you know.

“Been a while,” he rumbles, that low, soft voice of his turning your legs to jelly, just like the first time.

You nod towards your hut. “Hungry?” __

Mando explains everything to you. Sort of. You get the feeling he’s leaving some stuff out, but you don’t pry. You’ve only ever been a listening ear, and you know Mando values his privacy.

“So… he’s not yours.” You murmur, glancing at the crib holding the sleeping baby.

Mando chuckles lowly. “Why? Jealous?”

Your cheeks burn indignantly. “You and I both know that this,” you wag your finger between him and you. “Is not an exclusive arrangement. What you do in your free time is none of my business.”

“That sounds awfully rehearsed.”

You stare down at your hands on the table, wrapped around a mug of hot caf. “...Why are you here, Mando?” you ask quietly. “I thought that was the last time. You were gone so long, I thought you finally meant it.”

He’s quiet for a minute, and you watch the reflection of your little kitchen in his helmet, warped and distorted in the metal.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your heart sinks. Somehow, you’ve always sensed a kindred spirit in him. Someone else just looking for a family. Home. You stand up, pulling him out of seat and leading him by the hand to your sparse bedroom.

There’s no moon out, and with the lights off, you’re surrounded by pitch darkness. You lift Mando’s helmet off his shoulders, placing it on the empty side table. You stare into the darkness where you imagine his face is, and think to yourself that you can see it this time. Shades of longing painting his face the way you know they do yours.

His nose bumps into your cheek while you wrap your arms around him. “What have you been doing here without me?”

You nuzzle him, rubbing a hand up and down his back until your fingers reach a clasp, removing his cape and pauldrons, setting them next to his helmet. “Nothing. So much nothing,” you whisper, removing the front plate of his armor.

“Good,” he groans, leaning into your soft touch against the front of his flight pants, already needy for you after so much time away.

“What about you, hm? Found anyone special on the road?” You know jealousy isn’t a good look on you, but now that the thought’s been planted in your head, you can’t shake it.

You feel the curve of his smile into your hair. “No. Never. Only you.”

You feel warm all over. Your lips trip over his mustache on the way to his mouth, drinking from his breath like it’ll save you. Like it’ll make him stay.

His bandolier should’ve come off before everything else, but you were distracted. It comes off now, the bullets and bombs and things clinking together like wind chimes when you place them on the table.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, tilting his head to yours with a strong, gloved hand. You whine softly, letting his tongue lave over yours as you grow weak in the knees, slowly falling into him. He catches you. He always does.

He holds you close, letting the loneliness and frustration and need of the past year run back and forth between you like an electrical current.

His fingers catch the fabric of your vest and tunic, pulling them off in one desperate rush.

“I missed you,” you murmur as he lays you down onto the bed.

“Shh,” he hushes, still in his flight suit and gloves. You catch his hand, pulling one off, letting the calluses brush over your skin. Letting him run a bare hand over your nipple, soft and plump.

You shiver. “Want me to tell you what to do?” He asks quietly. You nod, knowing he hears the shuffle of your pillow underneath you. Can feel the motion of your eager affirmative in the air.

“Always,” you whisper anyways.

He needs to take the rest of his clothes off to do this part. He only gets as far as his pants.

When he pushes into you, he doesn’t seem surprised that you’re already wet, pliant for him. You’ve been waiting all this time, after all. You’ve been ready for him since the moment he left.

Your breath comes out of you in one long sigh, finally full of him after months apart. “Fuck,” you whisper, his hands reaching up to hold you down.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, pushing in and out with reverence, breaking you open until you’re left shattered underneath him. “Just, let me-”

He never comes this quickly, but before you know it, he’s collapsing onto you, gasping into your hair. You press sweet little kisses into the stubble of his cheek.

“You must really like me,” you tease. He grumbles, pushing his tongue into your mouth again until you’re practically sucking on it, whining against him. He steals the laughter right from your lips before it can ever escape, drowning you in his taste.

His hips press into you, cock hardening as you squeak. You didn’t know guys over thirty could still do that.

“Ah, uh- I-” you stutter when he pulls away, fucking his come into you at a steady pace.

“Fuck. Let me-” he murmurs, pulling out and bending down, down until he’s lapping up your mixed release into the cavern of his mouth.

You cry out softly, the liquid heat of his tongue swiping over your neglected clit. The rumble of his low voice, moaning softly into your soaked cunt does it. A wonderful, blooming warmth overcomes you, washing over you as your body tenses, pulling Mando closer to you as you ride it out.

He doesn’t pause, doesn’t hesitate when he starts up again. Your grip on him is even tighter, your chests pressed together in a sweat-slick slide as he presses his forehead to yours and fucks you properly, the way you’ve been dreaming about for months.

“Wait for me,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I made you wait for me. My girl. So patient. Doing everything I say. Giving me anything I want. Good girl. Good girl for me.”

You almost come again at that. “Yes,” you shudder, “Yes, yes, yes.”

You cup his cheek, smudging away a tear trail. You lick the wetness away, tasting the salt of a year apart from each other.

He bites at your thumb, kissing it and nuzzling into your cheek.

“My girl. You waited for me.” He whispers, pressing the rough pad of his thumb against your clit.

“Yes, yeah, I did- Mando-” You come again, this one faster, a blinding tear through your body that brings him not far behind. Your lips tangle with his, relishing the sticky wetness of his release filling you again.

Your breaths start to slow. Before you know it, your eyes are fluttering shut. __

It’s the middle of the night. There’s a divine warmth between your legs, a soft panting at your neck. You push back, moaning softly as you’re filled.

“Mando,” you gasp, putting a hand over the one cupping your breast.

“Fuck-ing tight,” he murmurs. “So tight. So soft. Taking care of yourself, like I told you to.” His other hand is holding the soft flesh at the base of your tummy, right where it mens the prickly down of your pubic hair. His hips snap into yours a little faster, stealing your breath and melting your bones. Itching a scratch at the very core of you.

“Fuck, Mando-” you sob, a fresh wave of wetness coating him. His balls slap thickly against the back of your thighs, your legs tangling together under the humidity of the blanket he must’ve covered you with after you fell asleep.

He groans your name into your neck, mumbling words you don’t understand anymore as he moves against you, stealing all rational thought away.

Somehow he manages to roll you onto your stomach, completely covering your back, smushing you into the mattress as he gathers himself onto his knees and fucks into you at a deeper, raw angle.

You love it, love the way he dwarfs you and surrounds you and takes and takes and takes, never giving you a chance to breathe, to think while he’s consuming you, swallowing you whole.

You keen, a soft, desperate sound. Mando reaches down, grinds the heel of his palm against the nub at your front. It’s not enough. You squirm under him, guiding his hand to the spot that makes you convulse, sweat coating your forehead and chest.

He holds you down, fucks you against the friction of his hand while you lay there, pinned and utterly full.

“Unnh,” you murmur. Drooling. Pelvic muscles contracting around where he’s buried deep inside you, grinding at a slow pace.

“Not done yet, sweetheart,” he grunts. “Night’s just begun.” __

This is why you wait for him, you think. Not just for the mind melting sex. For this.

His fingers rubbing into your back, watching the shafts of sunlight creep along the floor. Closer, closer.

“Don’t leave,” you whisper, keeping your eyes squeezed shut so that he’ll know you’re serious about keeping his secrets. About him. “Don’t leave,” you press a kiss to his cheek. “Please.” His nose. “Don’t leave.”

“Gotta go.”

“Don’t leave.”

“Sweetheart, it’s morning,” he says, kissing your forehead, his mustache tickling your hairline. “This is the last time.”

You’ve never cried in front of him. You made it a point of pride. No matter how many times he came and went, lighting your world on fire just to leave it cold and smoking the next day, you never once shed a tear until he was already gone.

That’s why you feel so betrayed when you feel the heat gathering behind your closed eyelids. Water welling, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks and make sure he’ll never come back again. Not once he saw you like this. Weak. Fragile.

He freezes once he sees the first tear. You try to keep your face neutral, but there’s no way to hide when he’s an inch away from the muscles in your mouth, twitching and trembling.

“I-” he starts, cut off in surprise when you separate from him and start gathering the top sheet around yourself. You kee your eyes closed, if at least to remind him of your loyalty.

“Then go,” you say, voice shaking in humiliation. “Get out. Don’t come back into my life. You said this is the last time, then let it be the last. Get out of my house. Take the kid with you.”

You hate how childish you sound. Here’s this big man, this bounty hunter, laying in your bed while you keep a hand over your eyes and tell him you don’t want to play anymore.

You hear a rustling. Then, he’s cupping your cheek. You exhale shakily as you automatically lean into the touch, another tear escaping the jail of your hand.

“It’s not fair that you get to leave and I have to stay here,” you say softly. “Please.”

He’s quiet for a minute. Contemplating. “What do you want?”

You sigh. “I want you to stay. With me. I want you to stay. I want you to tell me what to do. What you want. Where to go, how to feel. I want to go everywhere with you, and I want to stay when you tell me. I never want to have to see anybody but each other.”

Your hand is still covering your eyes when he kisses you. The sheet falls away as he pulls you under him. A repeat of the night before.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” you tell him between kisses.

He’s softer now. More thoughtful. Considerate. Well, he’s always considerate, but this is different. This isn’t the display of power he likes to put on for you. It’s like you’re just… people. Together. It feels nice. You feel part of something, even if you still can’t see the way the morning light reflects in his eyes and what kind of bed head he gets and if his scruff gets tousled after you’ve run your fingers through it.

“Mando,” you sigh.

“Din,” he grumbles out. “Din. Call me Din.”

“Din,” you murmur, head swimming. “Is that your real name?”

He hesitates, like he’s still processing the fact that he just told you his name. “Yes,” he tells you.

“Din,” you exhale, nose bumping against his as you feel around for another kiss, pulling him down until you disappear into each other completely. He fucks into you so sweetly; long, thoughtful thrusts.

Your last orgasm is slow, luxurious. Pulling you deep into him, milking him where you connect.

He still hasn’t finished.

“Din,” you murmur. He groans, and it almost sounds painful, “Din?”

He gasps, pulling out. Thankfully your hand’s still covering them, because your eyes fly open in shock.

“What’s wrong?” His hands rub at the tender skin of your sides, anxious.

“I can’t- Need to,” he trails off. Then, he starts climbing over you. “Open your mouth.”

You know you don’t have another orgasm in you, you know you don’t, but your stomach still flutters weakly in interest. Din climbs over your torso, up to your chest. Planting himself right under your chin.

His wet cock bobs over your waiting mouth, head teasing your lips. He puts the tip against your tongue, using one hand to tuck your chin into your chest. You taste a hint of yourself on him. Can smell it.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Just-”

He groans in relief, his shaft pushing past your lips as he slowly fucks into your face.

He cups your chin, using his other hand to cover your eyes, just in case. You feel the lucious stretch of his tip in the back of your throat and relax, exhaling through your nose as he slowly penetrates you.

It shouldn’t feel romantic, but you’ve never had sex while he could see you. You just know he’s watching the way his length disappears into your mouth, fascinated with how you take it all. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, confirming your thoughts before pulling out and giving you a chance to inhale. You cough, your throat contracting against the sudden evacuation.

His thumb rubs against your cheek, hand still stopping you from accidentally seeing his face.

When he pushes back inside, you’re ready. It’s been a long time since you last did this, but you never get tired of it. You would probably fall asleep with his dick in your mouth every night if he wasn’t gone all the time.

“Fuck,” he groans, thrusting a little more steadily. You’re ready for it. You tilt your chin up a little, moving your face against him and making little noises to let him know you want it. You’ve wanted it for a year.

“Fuck, I-” he finally, finally fucks your face, muttering curses and sweet words about how good you are, how pretty. How nice and patient and sweet. “My girl,” he murmurs before he fills your throat, holding your head in place, not letting you budge an inch as his hips stutter against your mouth.

You do your best to catch every last drop as he pulls out, only stopping when he hisses from overstimulation. He takes his hand over your eyes and replaces it with one of your own before you feel him rise from the bed. You sit up, slightly dazed, licking the musk-salt of him from your lips.

He groans. “I saw that.”

“Good,” you say. “I wanted you to.”

There’s the telltale sound of his armor clinking, and you roll onto your side on the bed, still naked. Whatever. He’s seen worse, now.

You can’t help it, tears well up again. Real ones.

There’s a gloved hand on your shoulder, and you roll around to face him. Suited up.

You glance down at the scraps of fabric that you wore as clothing yesterday being offered to you.

You shrug on your tunic, leaving your vest on top of the crumpled sheets.

You walk into the kitchen together, awkward and quiet. Your caf from last night sits cold on the table.

The baby is still asleep. He slept through the whole night. You wonder if Mando didn’t give him something.

“I-”

“You should come with us.”

Your ears ring. “What?”

“Me, and the kid.” He seems nervous. You’ve never seen him nervous. “We can’t stay here. And neither can you, now. They’ll know I was here. You should come with us.”

“But, the farm-” you say, glancing out the window to where the droids are inspecting each grain, each stalk and leaf for pests.

“I got those for you,” he confesses, like it’s some big surprise. “I meant to come back, once you’d gotten used to them. Got a little tied up.”

Your eyes flick to the bassinet. “Really.”

He nods, slowly. Walks towards you on padded feet, tucks his fingers under your chin and runs a thumb over your bottom lip.

“I always wanted to take you with me, mesh’la. I just… wasn’t sure. What you wanted. You probably want to stay here, but-”

You reach up, hands on both sides of his helmet. You stand there for a full thirty seconds, giving him ample opportunity to stop you as you slowly, agonizingly slowly pull his helmet off.

His mouth is- perky. His facial hair is patchy, and scraggly. And brown. His nose is hooked, and his eyes are downturned, sad. Scared. Also brown.

His eyes (and you really, sincerely do not mean to be cheesy here) sparkle in the low light of morning. Dark, swirling mirrors of emotion. You never realized just how much he was hiding behind that mask. He’s a total open book like this. He whispers your name. He sounds terrified, and relieved.

You kiss him. His hands feel consuming, untethered. Like he’s been holding back this whole time.

“I want to go everywhere with you.” you say, holding eye contact with him. It makes you almost nervous, to see him staring back at you unabashedly.

From the corner of the room comes the tiniest, cutest sigh. The bassinet cover opens, and the green baby Mando-Din brought with him blinks and coos at you.

“Oh,” you breathe, totally captivated. “Hello.”

Your hands are pressed to Din’s chest, his arm circled around your waist.

You look up at him, eyes full of emotion as he stares at the baby reaching out for him. Din gently separates from you, scooping the kid out of the crib and letting him touch his face. It’s quiet for a while. Intimate. It feels like something really important is happening.

The baby’s eyes are huge, taking up about 50% of his face. He has long, fuzzy green ears and tiny three fingered claws. He looks like a doll.

“What’s his name?”

Din shrugs, and you snort. Of course Mando hasn't given him a name.

“Hey little guy,” you say, patting the wrinkled space between his ears. He gurgles.

You absolutely melt. He uses his little grabbers to hold onto one of your fingers, effectively cementing his place in your heart.

“So,” you say quietly. “Where are we going?”

#my fic #star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #pedro pascal #din dijarin fanfiction

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