#Get it? That sub is called Hook and Ladder

[firehouse-subs-fr]

Happy Valentine's day, you dirty dogs

I made a sub related card last year so here's a new one

[valeisaslut]

riding country!ellie with your hands tied behind your back. that’s all i have to say baby ☺️💗

blessed are the ones who sin .♱ ݁˖

♱ word count: 2.8k 𖥔 ݁ ˖-

♱ content warnings: country!ellie x preacher’s daughter!reader, dom!reader x light sub!ellie, semi-public barn sex, religious guilt/blasphemy kink, bondage (wrists tied), spit kink, overstimulation, ass slapping, strap-on sex, mutual filth, southern accents, reader in control, ellie gets ruined, overstimmed & begging, both unholy and holy. MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

late summer air hangs thick with the smell of hay and something sweeter— like sin and sweat, like the hot ache of wanting something you ain’t supposed to. the crickets scream from the fields just outside, but inside it’s so quiet you can hear the sound of her chewing gum and the faint creak of the wooden beam you’re tied to.

your wrists are bound behind your back with her bandana. the red one. the one she always ties around her forehead when she’s fixing up her truck or working the stables. it smells like leather and salt and a her. something wild and unruly, something that’s never knelt for god in her life.

you’re kneeling in front of her. back straight. chin high. sweat rolling down your neck.

and ellie’s sitting in the hayloft ladder like it’s a damn throne, legs spread wide in those old jeans and boots caked in dirt, thumb hooked in her belt loop like she’s got all the time in the world.

“you always this mouthy for jesus, baby?” she drawls, slow and thick like molasses.

you raise your brow, smiling through the tension. “only on sundays.”

she laughs — low, rough, half-wicked. not the first time you’ve said something blasphemous in front of her, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.

there’s a rhythm to the way you sin with her. steady, worn into the floorboards. you’ve been sneaking around since spring, maybe longer, depending on how you measure guilt. maybe it started the moment she saw you barefoot on the porch, twirling a popsicle in your mouth with your sunday dress hitched up too high, your smile too slow. maybe it started when she smiled back.

your family doesn’t know.

god help them if they ever did.

they don’t ask where you go in the evenings. don’t ask why you’ve started skipping bible study or why your sheets smell like smoke. they just keep making plans, setting your place at someone else’s table. they say austin’s got a strong back and a clean conscience. that his daddy runs the feed store and his mama’s been praying for a girl just like you. they say you’ll grow to love him, that it’s god’s will, that you were made to serve— soft hands, closed legs, a white dress that won’t wrinkle.

they say purity like it’s a scripture you forgot how to recite.

because your body’s already spoken, louder than any psalm. it remembers the first time ellie touched you — fingers calloused from leather and sun, but gentle when they slipped beneath the cotton hem of your skirt in the back of her truck. it remembers the kiss behind the grain silo, your breath stuttering in her mouth, the way her hands gripped your hips like she was holding back a prayer she didn’t know how to say.

it remembers that sunday service, all tight smiles and tighter throats, when her hand brushed yours beneath the pew and your knees nearly buckled. you said amen with her fingerprints still blooming across your thighs, half a hymn tangled in your teeth.

ellie’s a cowboy. not the kind in songs, the real kind. boots worn through, flannel rolled to the elbows, jaw shadowed, shoulders broad. she rides horses, fixes fences, spits sunflower seeds out the side of her truck.

she’s got the kind of swagger your daddy would call a sickness. the kind of mouth your mama would pray out of you.

and she's kind of girl you couldn’t stop looking at since the day she rode into town with nothing but a duffel bag and a chip on her shoulder.

she doesn’t ask you to be quiet, doesn’t beg you to repent. she lays you down like a secret, one she knows the world will never be good enough to keep.

and you want her.

not just the rough edges, not just the danger.

you want the whole damn thing.

every inch of her, every breath. every long, aching night when she climbs through your window and fucks you so slow you forget how to say god’s name.

“reckon you got no shame,” she murmurs, her southern drawl curling around each word like smoke, eyes dragging over you slow. “kneelin’ for me in your daddy’s barn like a damn altar.”

you smile, all sugar. “ain’t shameful if he ain’t watchin’.”

ellie hums, low in her throat, and shifts forward on the wooden step. she’s flushed already, cheeks rosy, freckles darker in the barnlight. her hat’s tipped back off her head, hair tucked behind her ears. there’s a glint of sweat on her neck.

the strap’s already buckled on her hips —she always comes prepared, cocky little shit— but she hasn’t moved to use it. not yet.

“you been thinkin’ 'bout me?” she asks.

“every night.”

“and what exactly you think about?”

you tilt your head, testing her. “ridin’ you till you cry.”

her eyes flare. that sharp little twist of want crosses her face. the one that makes her jaw flex, her tongue swipe over her lip like she’s trying not to show how bad she wants it.

“you talk real big for someone with her hands tied,” she says, voice slipping a notch lower.

you lean forward, still on your knees, bare from the waist down, tank top damp with sweat and sticking to your back.

“you ain’t never had me ride you proper,” you murmur. “scared you’ll like it too much?”

ellie’s breath catches.

and it doesn’t take much to get her on her back.

ellie can act big and bad all she wants, but there’s something in the way she looks at you, like you’re the only one who ever unraveled her, that makes her pliant under your hands.

or in this case, under your hips.

you straddle her slowly, wrists still bound behind your back, breath caught somewhere between anticipation and ache. it’s awkward at first —not being able to steady yourself— but ellie helps. her hands find your waist, strong and sure, roughened by rope and reins. she holds you like she’s done it a hundred times, like your body was made to fit the mold of her grip.

her strap’s thick, veined, rubber catching light in the humid barn air. when you start to sink onto it, your whole body clenches. it’s wider than you remember, heavier. it doesn’t ease in; it claims space. stretches you open inch by inch until you can feel the pressure bloom behind your ribs, until your cunt swallows the whole length in a slow, trembling glide.

your breath stutters, your thighs shake. it’s not pain, it’s more than that— a full-bodied, spine-deep throb that makes your eyes roll back.

“oh, fuck,” you breathe, voice cracking.

ellie groans, low and drawn out, green irises dark and blown as she watches you sink down onto her cock. her head tips back, resting against the old hay bale, hips twitching up into your heat.

you can feel everything— the drag of the strap against your walls, the way it nudges deeper with every tiny shift. your slick is making it shine where it disappears into you, every breath you take rolls down your spine and settles between your legs. the fullness is obscene, glorious, a weight that makes you feel stuffed and ruined before you've even moved.

“god damn,” she pants, eyes stuck on the place where her cock disappears into you. “look at you.”

ellie’s hands are gripping your ass now, fingertips digging in, not guiding anymore. grounding. bracing. her thighs are tense under yours, trembling with restraint.

she wants to move, to buck up and fuck into you until you forget your name.

but she’s holding back, letting you take your time. letting you own it.

and you bounce— once, then twice, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the hayloft’s hush. it knocks the breath out of both of you.

then you stop.

“ellie.”

she looks up at you.

“spit in my mouth.”

her pupils dilate. something primal cuts across her face— a ripple of heat, a helpless twitch of her hips.

“jesus,” she whispers. then obeys.

you tilt your head back, tongue out, jaw slack. her spit lands hot and thick on your tongue, and your whole body jolts. the heat of it, the weight of her watching you take it.

you swallow it without blinking.

“good fuckin' girl,” she murmurs. voice gone hoarse, reverent, ruined.

“you like that?” you rasp, “like seein’ me all tied up and fuckin’ filthy?”

her answer is a sound you feel more than hear, a moan that starts in her chest and ends in yours.

she pulls the hat off her head.

her auburn locks are damp with sweat, stuck to her forehead. she looks fucked-out already. she twirls the hat once on her finger, then leans forward and settles it right on your head, tilting it low over your brow with a crooked grin.

“there,” she rasps. “now ride me, baby. you know how the sayin’ goes.”

your jaw slackens. your cunt clenches.

and then, you start to really ride her. slow, then faster, letting the friction drag against your clit each time you sink down. it’s messy as it can be. your hands useless behind your back so you can’t hold her, can’t even touch yourself.

all you can do is ride and burn and take it.

and ellie, ellie’s gone. her mouth’s open, eyes half-lidded, jaw slack as she watches you move. she’s panting now, chest heaving beneath her tank. one hand goes to grip your thigh, the other still sitting heavy on your ass.

“god, you look so good like this,” she mumbles. “like a damn dream.”

you roll your hips with a slow grind that makes both of you cry out.

“feel good?” you whisper.

“fuck—yeah. you ridin’ me so good, baby.”

you lean in closer, breath hot against her ear. “you want me to keep goin’?”

she nods, desperate, pupils blown.

“beg.”

you feel her shiver.

“please. please, baby — keep goin’. don’t stop, feels so fuckin’ good—”

you kiss her, hard and messy, even though you can’t hold her, even though it’s more teeth than grace. she whimpers into your mouth, arms wrapping around your back, pressing you flush against her chest.

and still, you ride. up and down, forward and back, each motion deliberate, unrelenting. the cock fucks into you with a rhythm that blurs into need, into instinct. your thighs tremble, your cunt flutters around the length, soaked and stretched, chasing the high that builds with every ruthless grind.

“ellie—”

“i got you,” she whispers. “come for me, baby. c’mon. make a mess all over me, i don’t care— fuck—”

and you do.

it slams into you like a storm. a white-hot burst of heat that shoots down your spine, curls your toes, makes you sob out her name. you collapse against her, writhing, gasping, clenching around nothing but rubber and the heat of her body beneath yours.

ellie holds you, whispers into your neck.

“that’s it. that’s it, pretty girl.”

when you finally stop shaking, breath still catching in your throat, you feel her shift beneath you— just a subtle twitch of her hips, but desperate. like her body’s chasing a high that isn’t hers yet, grinding up into you like it’s her cock inside you, like she can feel every pulse of your cunt in the aftermath.

you pull back just enough to see her face, flushed and slack, her freckles dusted pink, mouth parted. all bravado gone.

“you wanna come too?” you ask, voice soft. shaky.

she nods, fast. eyes wide, red in the cheeks, almost embarrassed.

“then do it."

and just like that, her hands clamp down on your hips, tight, possessive. she starts to thrust up into you with real rhythm— hard, measured, punishing. it’s not just desperate now, it’s practiced, deep. each stroke hits something sharp inside you, something raw and overused, and your whole body jolts with the contact.

the hat on your head tips forward from the force, nearly sliding off. ellie pushes it back with one hand —her eyes still locked on your face— then brings that same palm down on your ass in one sharp slap that makes you gasp, your cunt clenching around the strap with a wet squeeze.

“ride it,” she growls. “come on, baby — fuckin’ ride it.”

you’re already grinding back down to meet her thrusts, overstimulated, every nerve flaring. the strap’s deep inside you, dragging against every swollen edge, and now it’s unbearable— too much, too good, too slick. your body doesn’t know whether to fight it or surrender.

you choose the latter.

you ride her again, even as your thighs shake, even as tears prick the corners of your eyes and the most unholy whimpers and high-pitched moans can't stop falling from your lips. the overstimulation starts as heat, sharp and mean, but then melts into something hotter, filthier. a second orgasm building beneath the wreckage of the first.

ellie’s losing it. thrusting up like she’s fucking for survival, moaning into the space between your bodies, forehead damp, chest slick.

“tell me who you belong to,” she rasps, voice breaking.

“you—fuck—you, baby. always you. always.”

her hips stutter. her fingers bruise your skin.

and you feel it hit her — sudden, unstoppable — the way her thighs snap tight beneath you, her breath punches out in a broken and impossibly slutty cry, her muscles seizing around the thrusts she can’t finish.

you kiss her through it, mouths open, gasping into each other’s lungs, her rhythm still brutal beneath you. riding both orgasms out like a storm.

because just as she comes, so do you. your whole body folding over hers like a wave collapsing. you’re shaking, wrung out and wide open, dripping wet all over her.

it’s filthy. frantic. soaking.

there’s a mess between you now—your slick coating her lower stomach, smeared across her pelvis where your bodies kept grinding together. the base of the strap is soaked, and ellie’s clit is twitching beneath the harness, swollen and aching, nerves sparking with the contact, overstimulated and raw. her jeans sitting wrinkled on her knees. she’s breathless. her beautiful face slack and shining, mouth parted in awe.

you’re both still moving, barely— tiny, involuntary pulses that make your bodies tremble against each other, chasing the last shreds of the high. your thighs are trembling. her chest rises and falls like she’s been sprinting.

and when it’s finally over —when you both go limp in the hay, still pressed together, still shaking— she pulls the hat off your head and drops it beside you with a grin.

“jesus christ, baby” she pants.

you laugh, wrecked and breathless.

“he ain't here.”

“no,” she mutters, nosing at your cheek, lips brushing yours. “but you are.”

the silence after is holy. or—unholy, if we’re speaking in strict biblical terms. but it settles over both of you like grace, thick and reverent. a hush that feels sacred, even if it was born of sin.

the kind of silence that follows after church service, when the air is thick with incense and everyone’s misdeeds still hang like ghosts in the rafters.

you sit on her lap, breath still short, wrists still tied. your forehead pressed against hers. her hands trace lazy circles on your thighs.

“think i just saw the lord,” she mutters, voice hoarse.

you laugh, soft. “he didn’t smite us, that’s somethin’.”

ellie chuckles and presses a kiss to your temple.

“ain’t nothin’ wrong with the way we love, baby.”

you shift in her lap, arms aching now.

“you gonna untie me?”

she smirks. “eventually.”

“ellie.”

“i like you like this.”

“ellie.”

she grins, wide and beautiful and ruined.

“alright, alright,” she says, finally reaching behind you to undo the knot. her fingers are gentle now, like she’s undoing a bow on the prettiest present she’s ever gotten.

you roll your shoulders when you're free, and she presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“still thinkin’ about ridin’ me till i cry?” she asks, lazy, smug.

you hum. “next time.”

and she groans, tilting her head back like she’s already praying for mercy.

you laugh. you kiss her. you taste spit and sweat and salvation.

somewhere in the distance, the church bell rings.

and neither of you answer it.

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ DAYYUUUMMMMMMMM I ADDED SOME LORE TO MAKE IT MORE INTERESTING BUT GAWD DAMN IM WET W MY OWN WRITING. huge HUGE HUGE love and tysm to MIA THE LOVE OF MY LIFE you live in my brain rent free and you've been here since THE first day. words can't even start to describe how much i love you. my baby. my wife. my real one. will forever love you like the moon loves the sun. okay poetic. but seriously i love you endlessly.

images from pinterest - edited by me

perm taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <3): @talyaisvalslutsoldier @miajooz @andiemiaswife @mayfldss @sewithinsouls @coastalwilliams @hotpinkskitties @ssijht @pleasejoel @pariiissssssss @liddy333 @beeisscaredofbees @d1catwhisperer @the-sick-habit @elliescoquettegirl @elliewilliams-wife @yueluv3rrrr @your-eternal-muse @ellies-real-wife @katherinesmirnova @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @thxtmarvelchick @natscloset @lesbiansreverywhere @2against3 @wwefan2002 @ilahrawr @harmonib @piastorys @azteriarizz @starincarnated @natssgf @ukissmyfaceinacrowdedroom @iadorefineshyt @claudiajacobs @urmomssideh0e @kingofeyeliner @womenlover0 @ferxanda @imunpunishable @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrrr @bambi-luvs @maru0uu @mikellie @gold-dustwomxn @nramv @liztreez @eriiwaiii2 @elliewilliamskisser2000 @azxteria @elliecoochieeater

[gingersxng]

Pervy Boyfriend Mingi

WARNING: smut 18+

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi

Notes: sub!f.reader, rough mean dom! Mingi, big dick! Mingi, Mingi is a big pervert, perverted actions, inappropriate touching (which isn’t okay), degrading, manhandling, somnophilia, masturbation, name calling, oral (f&m receiving), public sex, shower sex, unprotected sex (don’t), nasty thoughts, threesome with yunho, double penetration, mingi loves your tits/ass, sex addicted mingi, 69, anger issues, Mingi uses reader like a rag doll, daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, bulge kink, dacryphilia, reader gets nipple piercings, cock warming, orgasm denial. forgot anything? maybe.

Words: 973

Mingi who sneaks glances down your top at every opportunity he gets and gets dizzy at how your bra delicately pushes your tits together.

Mingi who can’t keep his hands to himself when you’re out with the guys and his fingers just so “accidentally” end up inside your cunt.

Mingi who needs to touch your breasts every time he’s near you and gives them small slaps from underneath to see them jiggle.

Mingi who tells you how sexy you look and how much he would love to see you fall apart under him, what a whore you are for him, the perfect sex doll for him to use.

Mingi who can’t stop staring at how your ass cheeks appears from your shorts/skirt when you bend down to get something..

Mingi who sneaks up behind you and places his hands on your ass/cunt and breasts while he whispers nasty degrading words in your ear.

Mingi who gets railed up in a split second because you’re running through his mind 24/7.. nasty thoughts that is.

Mingi who can’t leave you alone when you’re taking a shower and joins you to “save water” he also gladly helps to ladder you up then pushing you up against the glass doors taking you deep from behind.

Mingi who sits and waits for you to get out of the shower with a towel wrapped around you only for him to hook his fingers on it making it fall off leaving you completely naked in front of him.

Mingi who can’t take disobedience from you and explodes with anger when you tease him a little too much and ends up manhandling the shit out of you and fucks you until you’re crying and begging for him to stop.

Mingi who loves to push down his hand on your lower abdomen to feel how deep his cock is buried inside you, watching the bulge on your stomach moving under your skin as he thrusts in and out.

Mingi who goes crazy over the thought of impregnating you, filling you with his cum and giving you his babies. no condoms here!! then he fingers back the cum into your pussy so nothing goes to waste.

Mingi who loves when you call him names like daddy or big boy, he gets sooo horny when those words roll off your lips. you’re his babygirl ofc.

Mingi who makes you cock warm him when he’s working on his music and teases you by bucking up his hips into yours, if you’re making any noise he put his big hand over your mouth and growls in your ear what’ll happen if you don’t do as you’re told.

Mingi who denies your orgasms and uses you until he himself gets to cum inside you and then leaves you hanging without an orgasm.

Mingi who gives you a small piece of chocolate when you’ve been a good girl swallowing his big load.

Mingi who wakes up in the middle of the night rock hard so he pulls your panties to the side, spreads your cheeks apart and pushes his hard thick cock inside your small pink pussy, fucking you until he’s cumming hard.

Mingi who traps you under his big body and tortures you with a vibrator and laughs at your weak state telling you how dumb and fucked out you look.

Mingi who happily would share you with a friend especially Yunho!! showing him what a nasty fuck toy you are, they love to fuck your pussy together splitting you open til your eyes turn white. the more the bigger damage on you.

Mingi who’s not so much into that cuddly stuff, he’d rather have you jumping up and down his dick tbh.

Mingi who takes pictures of your pussy and tits when you’re asleep, or even record when his cock slides in and out of your cunt to later use to get himself off to when he’s at work away from you.

Mingi who loves to use his big size against you (not just his big frame) to cage you in against a wall or how he easily gropes your tits in his big hands, or even wraps one hand around your neck. “my little one”

Mingi who’s acting like an innocent and loving man outside the bedroom but get him inside those walls and he turns into a cold maniac.

Mingi who does his best to show love on a normal healthy level and you adore him for that… but when the blood starts filling that man’s dick he can’t be stopped.

Mingi who’s addicted to your little pussy, he loves how you taste and how your hole squeezes his long tongue. he’s knuckles deep inside you until your white cream coats his thick fingers. he also loves when you do the “69” you riding his face while deepthroathing him at the same time.

Mingi who made you get nipple piercings cause he just love how hot you look with them and it gets him more excited knowing they’re his to play with.

Mingi who knows you play with yourself when he’s at work but he don’t want you to know that he knows so he watches from the crack in the door, the way your body looks on your big bed as you finger yourself makes him light headed and the insides of his pants gets stained from precum.

Mingi who never leaves you alone and constantly walks up to you or laying himself on top of you pressing his hard cock against your ass, dry humping is also very appreciated.

Mingi who lifts you over his shoulder and smacks your ass with the biggest smirk on his face.

Mingi who after sex presses his big chest against your back hugging you close his head nuzzling in your neck�� his cock still buried inside you.

[allthingsfangirl101]

AFS Chapter 5: One Simple Rule

Masterlist

Joe and Evelyn walked in, smiling when the teenage girl working at the counter gasped. She looked around and nervously fixed her uniform shirt.

"Hi," she stuttered. "Welcome to Firehouse Subs. I'm Lauren. What can I get started for you, Evelyn Jones."

"Hi, Lauren," Evelyn said sweetly. "Can I get a medium Turkey Bacon Ranch?"

"Of course," Lauren giggled as she put it into the cash register.

Joe was so distracted by how Evelyn treated this random girl just as nicely as she treated Henry, that he didn't notice both girls turn to him.

"Joe?" Evelyn asked. "What did you want?"

"Oh," he cleared his throat and looked back up at the menu. "I'll take a medium Hook and Ladder."

"Sure thing," Lauren nodded. "Anything else?"

"That'll do it," Evelyn smiled. Joe jumped forward when he saw Evelyn reach for her wallet. He gently put his hand on her arm and grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket. She opened her mouth to object but he shook his head.

"My idea, my bill."

He didn't miss the slight blush and the small smile on Evelyn's face as she looked away. After Joe paid the bill, the two walked over and sat down at an empty table.

"So," Joe started, "tell me about that crazy movie I walked in on."

Evelyn chuckled as she looked down at her intertwined hands. As they waited for their food, they talked about Evelyn's newest movie.

"So, that outfit you were in when I walked onto set was kinda crazy," Joe hesitantly teased. "I have to know. What movie is that from?"

"It's a new Disney live-action," Evelyn chuckled. Joe let out a sigh of relief when Evelyn laughed instead of getting angry. "It's based on the villain in 101 Dalmatians."

"Cruella Deville?" He asked.

"It's her backstory," she nodded.

Joe smirked as he thought back to the outfit she was wearing earlier. "May I just say," he chuckled, "you play the role very well, Evelyn. Very convincing."

"Thank you, Joe."

"Order's up!" One of the other teenage workers called out.

Joe instantly stood up and got it. He carried the food back to their table and sat across from her. As they ate, they started talking about Joe's work on Stranger Things.

"I'm kind of curious. What's it like working with people so much younger than you?" Evelyn asked. "I've only ever worked with people either my age or older. How do you do it?"

"It takes a lot of patience," he chuckled. "When you work with people younger, you don't realize how much they depend on you and turn to you. You don't realize how much you actually end up accidentally teaching them. It's a lot of pressure."

"It seems kind of cool to have that big of an influence on the younger generation," Evelyn mumbled. Joe watched as she slowly took a bite.

"I'm not sure I'm the best role model for those kids," Joe chuckled, trying to lighten the sudden mood and make Evelyn happy again. Silence fell between the two of them as they finished their sandwiches.

"Can I ask you something that will most likely make you yell and storm out of here?" Evelyn asked, playing with the toothpick.

"I promise not to yell at you," Joe said sincerely. "What did you want to ask me?"

"At dinner the other night," she started, "you were the Joe Keery that people expect. But today? Well, I don't really know how to say this but, you've been acting. . . Normal."

"Can't argue with you there," he chuckled light-heartedly. "Was that your question or did you have a different one?"

"My question is. . .  If you can act like a normal human being, why don't you?"

Joe sighed as he sat back in his chair. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to find an honest answer for her. He surprised himself when he realized he didn't want to lie to Evelyn.

"My first role, I played that part," he finally answered. "My director wanted me to fully get into the character. He wanted me to act that way on and off-screen. I got so used to it, I never snapped out of it. Then people expected me to act that way so I kept acting that way. I can be a good guy, Evelyn. I swear to you, I can."

"You really want to do this?" Evelyn asked. "You really think I can help your image?"

"I do," Joe said instantly. "People adore you, Evelyn. If people see that you willingly hang out with me, maybe they'll give me a second chance."

"Joe," she sighed, "I'm willing to help you. But don't you think you need to be the one to show the world you deserve a second chance?"

"You're right," Joe mumbled. He cleared his throat as he added, "But people don't trust me."

"Or," she elongated, "you don't trust you."

Silence fell between the two as Joe thought about what Evelyn said. She was willing to help Joe with his image, but she needed to make sure he wanted to change.

"You're really willing to fake date me just to improve how people see me?" Joe needed to check.

"I am," Evelyn nodded, "but I need you to understand something, Joe. I only have one rule when it comes to this fake relationship; you need to put in the effort. I refuse to put in more work to improve your career than you. If I do, I walk."

"I completely understand," he said quickly. "I promise to put in most of the effort. I will do whatever you tell me to do. Please, Evelyn. I want to improve my image and I know you can help me."

"When should we start?" Evelyn asked with her famous Hollywood smile.

"How about tomorrow night?" Joe offered. "I owe you an official first date."

"Tomorrow night works," she agreed, making Joe let out a sigh of relief. Suddenly, her smile turned into a glare. "Don't you dare be late."

"I won't. I swear."

[1kook]

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.  warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3  word count: 8.7k  

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him. 

And then winter comes. 

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years. 

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household. 

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute. 

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets. 

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick. 

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house. 

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable. 

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold. 

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him. 

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional. 

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.” 

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before. 

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again. 

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty. 

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house. 

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions. 

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever. 

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through. 

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times. 

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner. 

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong. 

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor 

You blink. 

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago. 

Oh, so this was new. 

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on. 

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again. 

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy. 

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning. 

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest. 

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you. 

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck. 

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss. 

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?” 

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck. 

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest. 

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck. 

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds. 

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy. 

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side. 

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?” 

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again. 

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip. 

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers. 

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct. 

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip. 

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt. 

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery. 

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again. 

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him. 

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored. 

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately. 

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth. 

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again. 

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate. 

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear. 

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum. 

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad. 

So you do. 

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” 

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm. 

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes. 

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth. 

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet. 

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves. 

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that. 

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t. 

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him. 

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully. 

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed. 

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight. 

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off. 

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly. 

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you. 

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face. 

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch. 

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble. 

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?” 

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls. 

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy. 

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully. 

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip. 

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite. 

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely. 

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why. 

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now. 

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months. 

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—” 

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions. 

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing. 

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss. 

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn. 

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat. 

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss. 

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty. 

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off. 

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up. 

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good. 

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. 

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading. 

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds. 

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it. 

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan. 

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...” 

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick. 

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you. 

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you. 

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his. 

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.” 

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks. 

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt. 

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips. 

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,”  you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.” 

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin. 

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm. 

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you. 

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success. 

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself. 

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell. 

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle. 

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out. 

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart. 

 To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death. 

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying. 

It fits perfectly. 

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[sirius-archive]

Bite Marks (The Mandalorian x Reader) SMUT

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap that willy), Dom/Sub, Rough sex, Oral sex (Reader receiving), Swearing. IF YOU’RE A MINOR, KINDLY FUCK OFF 

Word Count: 3.6k? I think? Who knows at this point

A/N: Nothing sexier than Jealous!Mando, amirite? 

***

The bounty was supposed to be easy.

All five mercenaries were dudebro fuckbois with high prices on their heads and a habit of pissing off the wrong people. They were all expected to be at the same club, too, which meant that you just had to flaunt some skin and purr honeyed promises and they’d be in the palm of your hands.

The bounty was supposed to be fucking easy .

It wasn’t.

***

The Mandalorian is suspicious. He always is.

“What are the chances of all six of our targets being in one place?” He says, “Seems suspicious. Could be a trap.”

“I considered that, too,” you remark from over your shoulder, searching idly for an outfit, “That was before I realised it was a Solastice festival. Literally hundreds of thousands of people rock up to this sleeze fest. No one wants to miss out on the free booze and the orgies,” Your fingers skim across a velvet mermaid dress, “How about this?”

Mando huffs out a grunt, “I should come.”

You toss the dress aside and search for another, “Who’s going to look after the Child?”

The Mandalorian stares long and hard at the Child, who blinks owlishly back at the Mandalorian, his inky eyes filled with adoration, “I know someone.”

“You sure you can trust them?”

“She’s taken care of him before.”

You give a noncommittal hum and hold out a lacy, navy-blue dress, “What about this?”

“That’s it?”

“What? You don’t like a bit of lace—?”

“—you’re not going to argue about me coming on this bounty with you?”

“It’ll be fun,” you smirk, throwing the dress away, “Besides, I like watching you in action. You’re sexy when you fight.”

Mando tilts his head. His expression is impossible to read but you suspect he might be amused, annoyed or confused.

Beaming excitedly, you flatten a sleek, backless dress with a plunging neckline against your body, imagining how the dress will hug your curves and flaunt your cleavage. A long split down the side will give you access to the blasters and daggers strapped to your thigh holster too. It’s classy with just enough sexy to keep the imagination stirring.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything for a long, measured moment. Somehow, perhaps ironically — the silence seems to whisper his approval.

You untie your silk dressing robe, letting it fall to the ground and pool around your feet. The Mandolorian averts his gaze. suddenly taking a keen interest in the small plant you’ve been watering. You wish you could see his face. Is he blushing? Is he horrified? Is he aroused?

Sliding into the dress, you turn and gesture to the zip kissing the small of your back. “Do you mind?”

The Mandalorian hesitates at first. Somehow, you can almost hear the clink of his thoughts colliding, like he’s mentally solving dynamical system calculations and differential equations. Finally, he stalks toward you and you feel the hesitancy begin to thaw as his gloved fingers twitch around the zip and tug.

His ghostly, featherlight touch lingers on your skin, following the line of your spine until he reaches the thin straps sitting elegantly on the knob of your shoulders. Summoning every ounce of your ex-assassin courage, you slowly turn to face him and stare deeply into the slit in his helmet, imagining the colour of his eyes. Are they a dazzling shade of blue? Or a lovely, rare shade of teal green? Perhaps a smokey umber or steely grey? Or were they like yours; a kaleidoscope of colour always shifting and changing and never one distinct shade?

The air thickens, electricity crackles.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian nods stiffly and stumps away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sigh, realising that there’s more than Beskar armour hiding his thick, prickly layers. Perhaps... , you muse, in that childishly naive way that only deep affection can stir, ... Perhaps  I’ll find a way to pry it off.

***

Outside, the festival rages.

The dancing crowd of celebrants are like a splash of vibrant colour against the bland backdrop of the surrounding buildings as they flood the streets, filling the air with hoots and cheer and vivid shades of life .

You perch on the barstool, keeping an eye on both your targets and the festival. The Mandalorian is sitting at a table in the far corner, close to the exit in case the targets are as dumb as they look and decide to make a break for it.

The bartender slides yet another drink your way from a hopeful suitor. You smile and take a sip, winking at the nervous, young man stealing furtive glances at you.

“My, my...” a greasy voice says from over your shoulder, “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in dump like this?”

You spin in your stool and smirk.

The lead dudebro of the fuckboi boy-band is trying to make a pass at you. He thinks he sounds smooth but his pick up lines are equal parts cliche and cringy and they come off polished and second-hand, like he’d heard it from a grainy, amateur porn movie and decided it was a winner.

“Hoping to find myself a handsome fella,” you purr, flashing him your most alluring smile.

Dudebro leans against the counter, reeking of smoke and sweat and virile fuckboi testosterone. He trails a lewd gaze from your eyes down past your neck, spilling indulgently between your breasts, along the sloping curve of your hips, down to the skin of your thigh peeking out from where you have one leg crossed over the other.

“How is that working out for you?”

Your lips tilt into a cat-like smirk, like a spider watching the squirming wreck of their prey struggle against the sticky fibres of a carefully designed web, “You tell me.”

“Beautiful, clever and single? Seems too good to be true.”

“Yet here we are.”

A dodgy grin hooks around Dudebros chapped lips. He slides a calloused hand along your thigh, his grip bordering on possessive.

“Here we are.”

You pause, stretching out a silence to create tension. Dudebro slides his tongue over his bottom lip.

“You should know that I give generously to women who know how to please a man,” he says, “And you look like you know a thing or two about that...”

You lean over, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, “Why don’t we get a room and you can see for yourself.”

Dudebro shudders. You’ve got him.

Suddenly, a blur of grey and silver charges toward dudebro, slamming his head onto the counter. Dudebro crumbles into an unconscious heap by your feet.

The Mandalorian has swooped in to save the day. What a knight in shining fucking armour.

“What the fuck was that about?” You hiss, incensed, “I nearly had him!”

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer. Instead, he’s twirling his blaster between his fingers with well-practiced movements.

The other dudebro’s jump to their feet, steeling themselves for a fight.

Chaos erupts.

***

You’re quiet on your way back to the Razor Crest.

Your blood is boiling, your throat itchy and dry from all the insults you want to scream into the dull, black, bottomless void. The Mandalorian’s anger is an icy contrast to your fire; his broad shoulders steeled and his posture hard, unforgiving, like he’s still hunting down a bounty.

Your temper spikes as you watch him pay Peli Motto, your jaw clenched and your lower belly fluttering with a confusingly irritating concoction of venomous seething and hot, syrupy desire.

“It didn’t have to end in a fucking bar brawl,” you snip, waspishly, as he closes the hatch to his ship, “Thanks to you, though, it did.”

The Mandalorian gives you his usual response: silence.

Your nostrils flare.

“Three dudebros nearly escaped. It was lucky I was able to catch them before they raced off.”

Still no response. He’s too busy scaling the ladder up to the cockpit. You stomp up to the ladder and call up to him.

“You undermined me! And for what, exactly? Because some guy was getting a little touchy feely?”

You hear the engines roar to life and feel the ship rise, hover, then launch into the air.

Fuming, you pace the length of the ship, clutching the daggers in your thigh holster  and hurling them in quick procession. They lodge themselves into the bullseye, trembling from the force of your strength.

“You’re making dents in my ship.”

Your jaw clenches, molars grinding as you storm toward the daggers and pull one of them out.

“So now you want to talk!” You snap, scathingly, wheeling around to face him.

Mando’s helmet tilts as though he were evaluating you. He takes three deliberate steps forward, forcing you take a surreptitious step back.

“I’m not exactly a conversationalist,” he states, his voice clipped and tight. He makes no effort to disguise the anger in his tone.

You ball your fingers into a fist, clenching and unclenching, “So you’re not going to explain to me why you nearly let three of our bounty’s escape?”

There is a crackle and whir from the modulator as he speaks again, low and even with an intensity that sends shivers traipsing down your spine.

“You don’t know?”

You squint at him, wondering what he’s playing at. He acted rashly and impulsively; in a way that he’s never done before, betraying his years of careful training and defying all common sense. His timing was peculiar, too, just when you had suggested finding a room...

It hits you like a blaster to the chest, “You were jealous.”

Mando takes another step forward, neatly eliminating any space you had tried to regain. Your back is pressed against the wall as he takes another step closer, closer, closer , his arm reaching out grazing against your cheek, caging you in, closer, closer, closer—

He grips the handle of your dagger and pulls it out of the wall beside your head with a strong tug. The dagger dances between his fingers as he twirls it then parts the split in your dress just enough to slide the dagger back into its holster. His fingers glide along your inner thigh and you gasp, his touch electric.

“Not exactly,” he says, “Just a little protective.”

You exhale slowly, evenly, your chest fluttering with a thousand hummingbirds, “Is there a difference?”

He pulls his gloves off and trails his fingers along the delicate skin of your inner thigh, “I suppose not.”

The tension in the air is almost sentient, alive with a frantic, crackling energy that’s hotter than a heatwave in Tatoonie. Mando’s fingers dig into the spot where dudebro fuckboi had his hand back in the bar. Slowly, slowly, his hand snakes up your thigh, grazing across your hipbone, tickling the sensitive skin...

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you sneer, your upper lip curled.

“I guess I am,” he admits, his eyes boring holes through the visor of his helmet, “But you’re no angel, either.”

With that, he whirls you around and pushes you up against the wall, your flushed cheeks pressed up against the cool metal of his ship. You moan when he drapes a bandage across your eyes then tugs tightly at your hair. You hear him pull his helmet over his head, dropping it onto the ground with an obnoxious clang. Then he’s behind you, his voice in your ear, sultry and thick.

“You waltz around teasing me with those looks and that body of yours,” he grips your ass through the fabric of your dress, squeezing with bruising strength, “You drive me absolutely fucking crazy.”

He presses a searing kiss to your neck, teeth clamping around the flesh. You moan and arch against him, desire pulsing through your veins like velvety liquid chocolate.

“Then I saw you with our bounty, the way he eyed you, like he was undressing your right then and there,” the Mandalorian grazes his teeth along your neck, biting and nipping hard enough to draw blood, “Only I get to look at you like that. You’re mine.”

With a sudden burst of strength, the Mandalorian grips you by the waist and spins you around, pressing your back against the wall. He crashes his lips onto yours in a searing kiss, teeth scraping and tongues clashing, his mouth ruthless and bruising in the most delicious of ways. He kisses you with the hunger of a starved man, as though he’s deciding whether to savour you or swallow you whole.

The Mandalorian spills his lips down the column of your throat, biting and sucking and bruising, planting blossoming purple roses in your skin. Bite marks swell beneath his lips; a brand you’ll wear proudly for the next few days. It’s ironic how being claimed by the Mandalorian can make you feel so liberated.

He pulls away from you and clutches the zipper to your dress, tearing it from your body. You gasp, the cool air caressing your exposed skin. You feel the prickle of his eyes travelling across your body, capturing and collecting, memorising every detail.

And then he’s on you again, kissing your lips fiercely, stealing the breath from your lungs, swallowing your gasps, your moans, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth and biting. Your hands roam through his hair, tugging the roots, letting it melt between your fingers like honey.

The Mandalorian reaches behind you and rips off your bra followed by your panties, pulling an involuntary gasp from your lips.

“You’re going to have to pay for those,” you pant, “They weren’t cheap—“

You trail off into a moan as you feel the Mandalorian’s hot lips close around one of your nipples, teeth scraping and nibbling. You arch into his mouth, massaging his scalp as you play with his hair. His hand paws at your other breast, rolling the soft flesh in his palm, sending shivers throughout your body.

“Consider it payback for denting my ship,” he counters, and you hear his armour clink against the ships floor as though he were kneeling.

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he begins pressing butterfly kisses down your stomach, tasting the salty sweetness of your skin, tongue mapping out the canvas of your body. You moan when he bites your hipbone then travels lower, lower, until his hot breath is hovering over your slick entrance. He slings your leg over his shoulder and inhales your scent as though he were taking mental notes, cataloguing your natural fragrance with everything he knows about you, and then—

He dives in, curling his tongue over your clit, rolling the sensitive pearl of nerves as he drinks you in like sweet nectar. You moan and gasp and whimper his name, your voice hoarse as your lower belly crackles with ethereal-like energy; a nest of frayed, live wires sending currents of azure-blue electricity through your body.

Thick fingers push into you; first the index, then the middle finger, then both. Your back arches and your fingers fly into his hair, gripping hard enough to draw a groan from the back of his throat. It doesn’t take long for you to climax; you cry out his name as you shatter into oblivion, coasting a high that jolts you into hyperspace.

The Mandalorian kisses his way back up your body, and then he kisses you deeply. You slide your tongue over his lips, tasting yourself. Your head spins into a state of euphoric delirium.

“Your pleasure belongs to me,” he snarls, transforming your spine into a quivering live wire, “I’m in charge. Understood?”

“Yes, sir ,” you whisper, light as air, tone teasing.

“Good girl.”

The Mandalorian breaks away, the absence of his warmth leaving a ghosting greyness where he once stood. You shudder as you hear armour clicking and the whirr of zipper teeth being pulled apart. Then you feel his hands tug on the knot behind your head, keeping your bandage together, and the fabric falls away, returning your vision.

You blink, eyes adjusting. The Mandalorian stands before you in his armour, including his helmet. His codpiece is discarded; the lump of metal sits abandoned on the floor near your shredded clothes. You trap your bottom lip between your teeth as your gaze dips to his huge, thick cock.

“Wow,” you gasp, “You’ve been holding out on me, Mando.”

The Mandalorian steps toward you again, hooks his arms around your thighs, and hoists you up against the wall. The cold metal bites into your back, penetrating your skin and crawling down your spine. He presses his cock against your entrance.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a brat...”

Without further ado, He pins you to the wall of the Razor Crest with his long, thick girth, sinking into you with a loud groan and a roll of his hips. You cling onto the pieces of his armour and rest your head on the cool metal of his shoulder as the Mandalorian sets a pace. He rocks his hips slowly at first and you move your own hips against him, for once perfectly in sync.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping your thighs around his hips and pulling him further into your warm depths.

The Mandalorian snaps his hips against you, building up a fast, unrelenting pace. His movements are steady and deliberate, his grip plunging into your thighs, shooting sparks of pain and pleasure throughout your entire body. He’s silent for the most part, occasionally grunting and gasping in your ear when the muscles in your pussy contract.

“Yes,” you cry, biting into the fabric of his shoulder, “Just like that, don’t stop.”

A familiar tightness begins to curl inside your lower belly again, sloshing around with the chemical cocktail of champagne,

dopamine and serotonin. The feeling rolls and crashes within you, filling you up like seawater and sunlight and bright, glittering gold.

“Every time a man lays his hands on you, I want to cut them off,” he growls, each word punctuated with a sharp thrust, “Each eye that follows you makes me want to dig them out of the socket.”

“I never — oh — never knew you felt like — Ah, fuck yes — like that.”

“Bullshit. You knew...you’re just such a — fuck — fucking tease .”

“So what are you going to do—do about it?”

The Mandalorian groans and increases his pace, slamming his cock inside of you. He balances you with one, strong arm while the other snakes between the two of you and reaches up, up, up, his fingers wrapping around your neck, flexing gently. The added pressure makes you moan as you crest higher and higher, scaling the wobbling, tipsy-turvey ladder of a crashing crescendo—

Suddenly, the tight coil inside you snaps, spirals, sending pleasure surging through you, fluttering in your chest, pulsing through your arms and legs. Your pussy quivers around him, hugging his cock as the muscles spasm and quake with the force of your climax. The Mandalorian follows you over the edge, gritting his teeth and growling your name as he buries his twitching cock inside of you and comes, pouring his seed deep inside of you.

The air around of you smells like sweat and sex and grease and is filled with your combined pants. After a few lingering moments, the Mandalorian slides out of you and places you gently on the ground, tucking himself back into his pants. Your thighs are sticky with his dribbling cum and your head feels like it’s been crammed with fluffy cotton buds but your entire body tingles like light dancing off the ocean.

“That was—“

“Incredible...” you finish, biting your lip. The Mandalorian’s faceless mask stares down at you, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he’s gazing sheepishly at you, perhaps shy or maybe even aroused. Maybe he’s like you — an amalgamation of conflicting emotions, some old and nostalgic, some surprising and new.

***

Morning light drenches the Mandalorian’s quarters, shimmering like gold dust. You moan gently, consciousness slowly returning to you. You become aware of your surroundings, recognition settling in, delicious memories of being tied up and blindfolded while the Mandalorian worshipped your body...

The gentle caress of a warm kiss tickles your inner thigh.

You moan as the kisses dot along your thigh, climbing higher, teasing around your entrance, licking and nipping like he can’t get enough...

Your fingers fumble then clench around the bed sheets as his tongue finally laps at your clit, swirling and sliding in tantalising rhythms. You gasp and mewl, whispering words of encouragement as the Mandalorian feasts on you, plunging two fingers into your slick entrance. You begin to draw closer and closer to your climax, your toes curling as you throw your head back and moan—

A small whimper suddenly jolts you back into the present.

You sit up on your elbows and gasp, clambering to cover yourself as the Child stares up at you, distressed by the sound of your moans. His bottom lip trembles, his large eyes unusually glassy as he waddles up to you.

Beneath you, the Mandalorian shifts, and you turn away from him as he slides his helmet on.

“Hello baby,” you soothe, reaching down to scoop him up with one arm, “It’s okay, mummy’s here.”

The Child coos in delight as he snuggles into your embrace. You gently turn on your side to face the Mandalorian — who is now wearing his helmet — and place the Child between your bodies. He stares up at both of you and beams; his smile could light up a thousands suns.

When the Child begins to doze, you gaze up at the Mandalorian through your lashes, bracing your head on your hand bent at the elbow.

“I think he was jealous,” you whisper, stifling your giggles.

You hear the amusement in the Mandalorian’s tone, “Of you or of me?”

You shrug, leaning down to press a tiny kiss on the Child’s head, “Who knows?”

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Part 9 - Retreat)

Prologue 1. Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 2. Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 3. Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 4. Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2 5. Orientation 6. Rescue Site 7. Investigation 8. Recovery 9. Retreat

And I clocked over 5000 words on this chapter, too. Oops. Lots of John one-on-one with both Virgil and Scott. Including a bit of mild whump which I quite enjoyed :D

As always, many thanks to @janetm74​ @tsarinatorment​ @vegetacide​ @scribbles97​ and @onereyofstarlight​ for all their amazing help and support. you guys rock :D

And thank you to all of you who commented and liked last week’s chapter. It all means so much to me. Thank you sooo much for your support with this crazy endeavour ::hugs::

I hope you enjoy this chapter.

-o-o-o-

They dug the pod out of the ice, Lee and Alan tackling it while Virgil assessed Four.

Virgil was exhausted and worried. And shaky if he wanted to admit it, which he didn’t.

Ice echoed in the back of his mind where he refused to acknowledge it.

Eos kept them updated on the now quiescent water levels. There were no more reported seismic incidents. Everything was as quiet as it was before.

Except now the sparkle of crystal was far more sinister.

Virgil would be so much happier being not here.

He managed to activate the functional hoverjets on Four and with some heavy lifter muscles on the end of the appropriate toolset, he was able to relocate some of them to areas on Four’s hull that needed the support. He unwedged her roof from the rock wall, tipped her onto her belly, and, climbing inside, managed to get her moving in a stuttering echo of her usual smooth and darting operation.

The cockpit was partially crumpled on one side. Some hasty oxygen-assisted welding secured part of Gordon’s pilot’s chair back into place. Not perfect but it would do the job for now. It would not be the most comfortable ride.

“Virgil, what are you doing?” John’s voice was exasperated.

“What does it look like?” He had zero patience and just wanted to get his brother’s ‘bird back to Three so she could ultimately be taken home. There was no way he was leaving her here any more than he would have left her at the bottom of the ocean.

“Virgil, you shouldn’t be flying. I’ll take her.”

“I’m fine. Let’s just get this done.” Then he could check on his brothers.

The cave glittered at him through mangled viewports. It was still beautiful, but he no longer trusted it. He wanted out. “Have you recovered the pod yet?”

“Clearing the last of it now.” An indrawn breath. “Virgil-“

“Is it functional?”

An abrupt silence at the other end of his comms sketched out the thinned lips and frown John was no doubt sporting. “There appears to be minimal damage.”

“I’ll meet you in the Dry Cavern. I’ll need help to get Four out.”

Ignoring John’s protests, Virgil pushed the injured sub past the still partially iced in dragonfly and down the kilometre long tunnel to the exit cave.

Reaching the floor of the dry expanse ahead of his brother and uncle gave him a moment to himself. He sat back in the remains of Gordon’s pilot’s chair and closed his eyes.

It was so tempting to just let go, to give in to the phantoms teasing at the edge of his mind. But he couldn’t afford a breakdown right now. Scott was injured and their brothers were depending on him.

He had to keep control.

If only his head would stop hurting.

His eyes did not want to open again.

Consequently, it took John calling his name to ‘wake’ him.

Virgil startled to find both his astronaut brother and Uncle Lee glaring at him through the remains of the marine acrylic in Four’s viewports.

“Virgil?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“I was just resting my eyes.”

John’s lips now appeared to be permanently thinned...and about to call him on his bullshit.

Virgil didn’t let him. “Hook up a tow line. We need to get Four above ground.”

His space brother did not stop glaring, but at least he decided that towing Virgil was better than arguing further.

They could meet half way.

Uncle Lee, sparing Virgil a worried glance or two, secured the line as Virgil sat and watched - an odd sensation since usually he would be the one out there doing what needed to be done. Perhaps it was a sign of exactly how gone he actually was.

Get Four to Three.

Get his brother and Uncle back to the Base.

Check on Scott and Gordon.

He was clinging to his list of goals and he knew it, but the alternative was very unproductive.

He startled again as John signalled his readiness. The dragonfly gently tugged on the line as it lifted smoothly off the ground.

Virgil shook himself and activated the hoverjets best to assist with the tow and then he was airborne. They coasted the long mole-made tunnel, took a sharp turn and climbing the vertical drop made by Three, shot into the open.

Jupiter glared balefully out of the darkness.

From there it was a blur of ‘Virgil, stay there’ and Four being hoisted into the huge, red spacecraft, the close of her hatch and the blessed familiarity of Alan’s ‘bird.

Virgil climbed slowly out of Four as John and Uncle Lee stowed the dragonfly, and clambered to the ladder that would take him to her cockpit. It was likely a further sign of his exhaustion that he had to think which way Three was currently situated. She was nose down, which meant he had to climb down.

The ladder looked like it stretched on forever and a rogue part of his mind pondered exactly how hard he would hit bottom if he just jumped.

He was ever so tired, but he couldn’t stay here, so he forced one foot after the other and began the descent.

Halfway down dizziness hit him again.

It was all he could do to cling to the ladder to prevent himself from falling.

And this time it didn’t go away.

“Virgil!” John’s voice was like a beacon in the darkness of a roiling stomach and a pounding head. Virgil had his eyes clenched shut.

The clatter of boots on rungs, hands caught him under his arms and he was being urged to continue down. “C’mon, not far to go.” John’s voice was ever so soft in his helmet. Gentle. Reassuring.

Virgil took that first crucial step and let himself drop another controlled step while mentally clinging to his stomach.

The dizziness disappeared.

Oh god.

The relief almost had him letting go of the ladder, but strong arms held him and continued to guide him down step by step. His stomach protested the entire way as if this bout of dizziness was the last straw.

John helped him through the main hatch and, from there, Virgil flung off his helmet and stumbled to the facilities.

Fortunately, there was very little in his stomach to expel, but that didn’t stop it from spasming repeatedly.

Low gravity environments sucked.

This would have been the perfect opportunity to curl up in a ball of misery on the bathroom floor, but space bathrooms sucked as much as space itself.

It became very clear that his head and body had had enough and if it wasn’t for John he probably would have fallen to that floor anyway.

“Virgil.” His brother caught him gently, drawing his head to his shoulder. Virgil didn’t have the energy to resist. “You are going to the infirmary.”

“John-“ But his head throbbed and he clenched his eyes shut in pain.

“No arguments.” In the light gravity, John lifted Virgil up and, leaving the bathroom, carried him down the corridor towards Three’s tiny infirmary.

“John-“ This was a first. Virgil usually did the carrying. The thought bounced through his aching head. But before he knew it, he was being strapped into a soft bed.

Opening his eyes would involve more than he had.

Yellow light flickered over his eyelids. Machinery beeped as John mumbled something, possibly into his comms, but Virgil had nothing left. The phantoms swooped in and the ice swallowed him whole.

-o-o-o-

John was used to worrying about his brothers. So often he was so far away when they were in peril. But as Virgil’s hand fell limp in his, John’s heart clenched.

Both of them had been running on adrenalin. He had watched as Virgil performed as he always did when needed despite being ill.

Many times John had listened to his brothers over comms, their voices strained by what they had seen and experienced. Hell, this wasn’t John’s first rodeo, he knew what it sometimes took on a rescue.

He’d done it himself.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when it happened again.

The medscanner flickered over his brother casting his pale skin in an even sicklier shade.

Stress factors were flagged. Virgil’s heartrate was up and his blood pressure was far from happy. But there was no injury.

John frowned. Virgil had been unconscious at least part of the time he was buried in the ice. He was obviously unwell and was showing all the signs of a head injury.

But there was none.

He poked the scanner as if he could drag further information out of it.

But no, it reported Virgil as stressed, tired, possibly exhausted, but there was no explanation for the symptoms he was displaying apart from some tightening of the blood vessels in his brother’s brain. Classic sign of a headache.

“John, all vehicles are stowed. You wanna drive?” Uncle Lee’s voice over comms snapped him out of staring at his brother’s medical readouts.

Virgil was asleep, restless, but asleep. He was safe for the moment. Perhaps it was just exhaustion. His brothers were well known for pushing it too far.

Perhaps it was psychological. It would be fair considering his history with ice.

But it still didn’t quite add up and it gnawed at him. He had seen his big brother tackle this issue before. It still didn’t quite sit right.

But now the priority was to get Virgil back to his brothers, and reunite with Scott, Gordon, Alan and their father.

John double-checked the patient was secure and deployed the bed pivot that would support him when the ship flipped in flight.

“FAB, Uncle Lee.” He said the words at almost the same time he entered the cockpit.

It was strange to be here without Alan. It had been a long time since Three had been his ‘bird. Even then it hadn’t really been his. It had been Dad’s and then Alan’s. John had only been her pilot out of necessity.

Sliding into the pilot’s seat, all his reflexes shifted to the needs of the Thunderbird. Pre-flight was worked through at speed, Uncle Lee providing the input needed.

Eos chimed in with clearance for their flightpath.

Callisto Base acknowledged they would be arriving in minutes.

John fired her thrusters and launched Three into the thin atmosphere of Callisto, pivoting her mid-air and taking off in a southerly direction.

The trip was very short, barely worth igniting her engines, but honestly, John was grateful.

Three hovered in the massive airlock once again and it grated on John’s need for speed. The equations that listed the reasons why those doors were so ponderous gave him plenty of explanation, but he had no patience for physics at the moment.

Landing Three was like exhaling in relief.

Their father met them on the gantry. John towed Virgil out of Three on the bed he was still sleeping on, hoverjets keeping him level and secure. The fact he had not woken despite launch and landing was just a further sign of his brother’s exhaustion.

Uncle Lee followed them out without a word.

If John was irrationally grateful for his father’s hand landing on his shoulder, he wasn’t going to examine it too closely.

Concerned grey eyes stared down at Virgil...

“He’s sleeping, Dad. Exhaustion appears to be the culprit.” His father looked up at him and John swallowed. “That’s all I could find.”

A nod and they hurried Virgil off to the Base medical centre.

Grae had set aside a part of the small facility with enough beds to support the injured Tracy brothers. John, Virgil and their father entered in the middle of an argument.

“I’m not going up to Five! It’s a broken arm, Scott, that’s all.” Gordon’s expression was furious. He was sitting up in bed, his arm in a plastic cast. It was obvious Gordon wasn’t well. There was no spark about him. The impression was grey where there was usually sun.

Scott’s response was appropriate. “It’s enough! You are off rescues until it is healed. You know that is the rule. Health first!” Their eldest brother was sitting in a chair beside the Fish’s bed. A bed behind him had mussed covers and was obviously where he was supposed to be.

It was ever so typical that he wasn’t.

Either way, John took some comfort in finding both brothers conscious despite their injuries.

Of course, that meant yelling.

“We’re in space!”

“You’re not crucial to this mission!”

“It’s underwater! I call that crucial!”

“Gordon-“

“Scott-“

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!”

Their father’s voice cut across the yelling enough to disturb Virgil who groaned in his sleep and attempted to roll over. The groan turned into a whimper and his brow crumpled.

That shut everyone up.

Scott tried to stand and move to his prone brother’s side, but wavered. Alan who had been sitting wide-eyed next to him, hurried to steady his big brother.

John touched a finger to Virgil’s cheek and murmured soft words of reassurance. The unconscious engineer leant into his hand, eyes still closed, and settled back into his uneasy sleep.

Alan was trying to wrestle Scott back to bed with little success, until their father strode over and made some silent but very firm gestures in the direction of the empty bed.

Scott wilted in Alan’s grip and did as he was told.

But his eyes did not leave Virgil or Gordon alone, darting worriedly between them.

John docked the hover stretcher into place beside Gordon. His positioning was purposeful, giving Scott both brothers at one glance and no doubt allowing his eldest brother the chance to at least relax a little with both of them in sight.

Gordon’s eyes tracked Virgil as John draped a blanket over his sleeping brother.

“What happened?” Gordon’s voice was ever so quiet.

“Ice and exhaustion. He needs rest.” A pointed eyebrow. “You all do.”

John did, too, weariness suddenly hitting him. Such a mad scramble to get to his brothers, get them out of the ice.

“I think perhaps you should sit down, space bro.” Gordon never missed a thing. Those carnelian eyes saw everything. It was what he did with the information that mattered, though.

“John?” A worried pair of foggy blue eyes had targeted him now. Well, that sealed it.

Sure enough, their father turned around and wordlessly led him to a chair. “Sit down, son. They’re all safe now.”

There was a hitch in the man’s voice that had John questioning if he was saying it to reassure himself as much as others.

Regardless, the words had the tension in John’s muscles suddenly relaxing and he found himself shaking just a little.

The mechanics of mild shock sprang to mind and he was disgusted with himself.

A blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his father’s hands squeezed his arm gently.

There was silence in the room for a while. Dad found Uncle Lee a seat and John was ashamed to realise he had forgotten the man existed for a moment there. Perhaps he was as tired as Virgil. Sleep was a long time ago.

A Base doctor came in and confirmed John’s analysis of Virgil’s condition and quietly updated them on both Scott’s and Gordon’s status - all of which IR equipment had already revealed. Perhaps with the exception of Scott’s concussion that while still had him a little wobbly, seemed to have found some healing in whatever sleep his big brother had managed since being yanked out of the ice.

And there was the source of John’s heartrate. Pulling brothers out of the ice had been terrifying. Flashbacks to images sprouted by the news reports all those years ago regarding their mother. Scott’s desperate attempt to hide the reality from his younger siblings, but failing due to the determination of irresponsible media.

John closed his eyes.

-o-o-o-

“What do we do now?” Grae’s eyes were pleading and Jeff wished he had a good answer for him.

He had left the infirmary knowing his friend would be frantic.

Hell, Jeff was a little frantic himself. Berry and Ju were still missing. They only had readings on two out of five missing life signs. They didn’t even know who those life signs belonged to.

“We wait.”

“Jeff, they could be dying!”

“Both life signs are strong. I know it is not the best, but we don’t have a choice. We have to wait.”

“Why? You have the equipment. You, Lee, two of your boys are fine. Hell, I’ll come with you. This is Ju we are talking about!”

Jeff straightened. “I know who we are talking about, Graeme. But the first rule of a rescue is to make sure the rescuers are safe enough to do their jobs and for the moment, I am not willing to send anyone into that cave until we work out what the hell happened!”

“Seismic anomaly. You told me yourself.”

“John is not satisfied with that assessment.”

“Why not?”

“He needs further information.”

“Then let’s go down there and get it.”

“John is working on it.”

“John is sleeping!”

Jeff’s lips tightened and he took a step closer to his old friend. “My sons were nearly killed. I am aware that this is an urgent situation, Graeme. I know what is at stake. But there will be no gain in putting anyone in further danger until we know what we are dealing with.”

A silent hand wrapped around Jeff’s arm and tugged him backwards gently.

Lee.

Jeff had known he was there and old patterns were obviously still in place.

It was reassuring.

He understood Grae’s feelings. Hell, he shared them. But his boys were hurting and, if he was honest, they had terrified him. Seeing first Scott and then Virgil entombed in ice had ripped scabs off memories from so long ago as much as tempting new horrors.

But above and beyond it all, there was something very strange about this situation. Something was off. Everything that made him the astronaut he was, was screaming alarm bells. So, while he could gather Lee, John and Alan and go down there himself, he wasn’t.

Because he trusted his sons and John said no.

Jeff couldn’t help but agree with him.

They needed further information and Eos was working hard to deploy enough probes and up the sensory reach to delve underground and veto that interference. And while John had protested - all of them had protested, except Virgil who had already been asleep - this had been an opportunity to try and get some rest.

Grae sagged where he stood, all signs of the Base commander falling away. “She’s my wife, Jeff.”

Voice ever so quiet. “Believe me, I understand.” He caught his friend’s eyes with his own. “I do.”

Grae stared at him a moment before uttering a wounded sound and turning away. Jeff watched his back as he strode out of the infirmary.

Lee’s hand squeezed gently, but Jeff still stared at the door.

-o-o-o-

John wasn’t sleep. Honestly, he tried. Their father had corralled two more beds into the room with his injured brothers and both Alan and John had been sequestered there. He appreciated it, he did.

But he couldn’t sleep.

And it wasn’t Virgil’s snoring.

He kept running scenarios over in his head. Building and dismissing equations that could explain the liquid water in the cavern and coming up with nothing.

Liquid water demanded the existence of energy to keep it that way, likely with a heat source. Gordon had mentioned a temperature increase before the wave hit.

John’s fingers itched for his information sources on Five.

He was still wearing his suit. He had slept in it often enough not to care. But he had removed his helmet. The infirmary had its own air circulation system separate from the rest of the Base and, really, with his brother’s injuries, they hadn’t had a choice but to break the seals on their suits.

The upside was that he could squirrel under his covers and access his wrist comm and Eos.

His daughter was sending perplexed emojis at him because he had requested text only.

Her use of repeating gifs had the effect he had no doubt she desired, enough to curl up the corners of his lips at least.

His fingers darted across his virtual keyboard with a speed almost as fast as the voice he couldn’t use.

The probe net was in its final dispersal phase and the first of the reports were coming in. Eos had focussed the deployment in a spiralling pattern using the Crystal Cave as the central point and consequently, the information was more detailed in that area. In fact, Eos had doubled up the probe above Burr Crater and the cave beneath it.

His daughter highlighted three other craters, an attention icon flashing on the map. John zoomed in and frowned. There were more lakes.

His fingers darted over the map, repeatedly hitting attention icons flagged by the AI. Lake after lake showed up on sensors. A quick cross-correlation and his suspicions were confirmed. The lakes lay under the younger craters on the moon’s surface. The ones still shining from impacts of recent millennia.

John manipulated one of the probes pulling it from the net and drawing it closer to the surface. Eos threw up a warning that he was causing a brief blindspot, but he didn’t care, he needed confirmation.

Tornarsuk Crater was slightly smaller, but it was fairly equidistant from Callisto Base as Burr and almost as young. The lake registered as similar to the one in Crystal Cave and a network of tunnels branched off from it merging with the network.

Because it was a network. Initial readings tracked tunnels riddled beneath the entire Callistan surface. He couldn’t tell with these readings, but he would bet a lifetimes worth of savings that all the tunnels were made by water. Despite liquid water not being physically possible in these environs.

Not physically possible, but the lakes did exist.

Of course, that led to the question of why the water hadn’t stayed water once it left the cavern. It had behaved exactly how it should when it entered the tunnel. It froze.

Trapping his brothers.

He closed his eyes a moment as images he hadn’t fully processed yet flashed up in his mind.

He let out a sigh.

Focus.

Science was a saviour.

He returned to glaring at the holograms hidden under the blanket. It grew stuffy and he was reminded of many a late night when he was a child, shoving his tablet under the covers in order to read that little bit more despite being told to go to bed.

Memories.

He requested a planetary body analysis and the probe network boosted Five’s scan of the moon, giving him an indepth gravity and mass analysis. The readings confirmed what the Callisto Expedition had reported, that yes, there was an ocean deep under the Callistan crust, and that unlike most of the planetary bodies in the solar system, Callisto was undifferentiated. It had no core, no mantle, just a shallow ocean a couple hundred of kilometres below, sitting on a mix of rock and ice, sealed in by a crust of similar material.

So there was water in the moon. That was no surprise. Europa had proven something similar, but these subterranean oceans followed the laws of physics. They had the pressures required to stay liquid. The lakes did not.

There had to be another reason.

The next step was research. He knew what he knew, but that didn’t mean he knew everything. There must be something to explain the water.

Accessing Five’s library, he initiated a connection back to Tracy Island via the chain of buoys stretching back to Earth.

The covers over his head were suddenly ripped off, the waft of cooler air startling him even more than the sudden appearance of a tall shadow leaning over him.

John’s whisper was cutting. “Scott, what the hell!”

Because it was Scott. It was always Scott.

Well, except when it was Virgil, but this shadow was too tall, had the wrong hair and Virgil was still snoring.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” His brother’s voice had an echo of commander.

“You more than me!” John grabbed at the covers and pulled them back up to his chest. Why, he didn’t know, but there had to be a principle there somewhere.

The shadow of his big brother pulled up a chair and literally fell into it. Elbows dented the side of John’s bed and Scott’s head dipped out of silhouette as he dropped it into his hands.

John’s heart softened. A gentler whisper. “You really should rest. Get some sleep.”

“I did. Virgil is making a racket.” It was muffled as his brother was looking down at his feet, but John knew it was a load of bullshit. They had all been putting up with Virgil’s snoring since the man was born. If anything, it was a sound of comfort and was missed if it wasn’t there when they were together like this.

It was a running joke that their brother’s snoring was a great wildlife deterrent when camping.

John persisted. Scott was notorious for ignoring his health when focussed on an objective. “How’s your head?”

“Fine.”

“If you’ve come over here just to lie to me, I’m not sure I want to listen.”

“Whatever.” Scott ran his hands through his hair, messing up what was usually meticulously neat. “What happened, John?”

John sighed and pushed himself up on the bed until he was sitting upright, covers still on his legs. “You should be in bed.”

“Bed is a waste of time.” Blue eyes caught what little light was in the room and flashed it at John. “I need information.”

And John was the source of that information.

He held back another sigh and instead pulled up a virtual representation of the Crystal Cave and associated tunnel network. “The sensor readings are marred with static, but as far as we can tell water appeared to enter the lake from this tunnel.” John pointed at one of the entrances on the north-east side of the lake. “With the probe network we now have, the closest source of water I can find is under Tornarsuk Crater to the south-east.” He rotated the image until the star-rayed splash of brightness appeared. A flick of a finger and the hologram delved under the crater, bringing up another lake. John focussed the probe, switching to mineralogical detail and many spikes of crystal appeared in the cave. Eos threw up likely chemical formulae that could only be proven with samples, but had an accuracy somewhere near ninety-five percent.

He could not delve under that lake any more than he could under the lake in the Crystal Cavern.

“There’s another one?” Scott’s whisper spoke of widened eyes. “Are they connected?”

John answered by zooming out and tracing the connection via the maze of tunnels between them.

“How?”

This time John did let out the sigh. “I don’t know.”

“Is it a natural phenomenon?”

John stared at his brother. “Nothing about this is natural. That water shouldn’t exist in that state. If water came from the other lake, then how did it get to the Crystal Cavern so fast? Seismic readings epicentre the activity to the north-east of the Cavern, yet the closest source of water is to the south.”

“Can you get any further life sign readings?”

“No.” It was a defeated quiet. “And no further information on the two under the lake. All I can say is that they are there. Interference is almost complete otherwise. We cannot see below the surface, yet I can see all the way to the moon’s lack of a core.” He threw up his hands and the hologram flickered at the rough handling. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Scott was lit up by the light of the hologram. A ghostly echo of his brother’s usual vibrant self. “Is this humanly possible?”

John stared at him. “You think someone is orchestrating this?”

“Could they?”

He threw the concept back and forth in his head. “Possibly. At great expense and difficulty. There would have to be some serious science involved and I would want to know how that water is liquid in this environment. But the ultimate question would be ‘why?’”

Scott let his head drop into his hands again. “Hell if I know.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time something massively expensive and ridiculous had been deployed against us.” Gordon’s voice was sharp in the sudden silence.

And silence it was because John suddenly realised there was a serious lack of snoring in the room.

Sure enough, beside their fish brother the shape of Virgil was moving slowly to sit up. His throat cleared as he settled sitting on the edge of the bed. “So what is the plan?”

Scott straightened where he sat. “The plan is to get some rest.”

“Done that. Feeling better. There are some lives waiting to be saved.”

No pressure.

Gordon’s eyes were catching the light and aimed right at John. “You think this is planned?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you think it is a possibility.”

“At this point, everything is a possibility, Gordon. I don’t have enough explanation to make any conclusions.”

“I vote aliens.” And yes, Alan was awake as well, his tousled hair reflecting holographic light.

“You are all supposed to be asleep.” Commander Tracy glared at them.

“Speak for yourself, Scott. I bet you’re sporting a doozy of a headache.”

Scott didn’t answer, but John was pretty sure Gordon had hit a nail right on the aching head.

“John?” Eos’ voice cut through the glares and grumbles bouncing around the room.

“Yes, Eos.”

“Callisto Base is receiving a distress call from Kate Berrenger.”

“What? Relay!”

A terrified female voice cut the air in the room. “Base, do you read? I need help. Uh-“ The voice fell silent a moment, but every body in the room was already moving.

One of the life signs had changed position. It was now located on the same beach where Four had lain crumpled several hours earlier.

John switched to transmit. “Eos, relay! This is Thunderbird Five, Director Berrenger. Help is on the way.”

“Somebody, please help me.” It ended in a whimper.

He leapt off the bed as Scott dashed out the door. “Help is on the way.”

-o-o-o-

Next

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [45]

xvi. perverse instantiation, pt 2

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 6.0k

Warnings: mentions of wounds, fighting, blood, language, choking, angst, death. 

Summary: The Battle of the City Light begins, with Clarke leading the charge, while the rest of you battle an army of chipped people and keep her safe.

a/n: THE FINAL PART OF THE SEASON THREE FINALE IS HERE! IF YOU WANT SEASON FOUR PLEASE LET ME KNOW! IT HELPS ME A LOT TO BE ABLE TO GAUGE INTEREST TO SEE IF WE SHOULD CONTINUE! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

Reality sets in quickly, and within moments, Octavia and the others come bursting in. Bellamy immediately leads them all away, taking Jaha and the other guards with them, leaving you and Clarke alone. She looks up at you. “Do you still have the EMP?”

“Yes.”

“If Ontari’s brain is dead, it’s useless on her. We can use it on mom instead.”

You hold her head and help Clarke carry your mother towards the throne, so she can get better light from the windows. You take your backpack off and pull out the EMP, passing it to her as she lays your mom's head in her lap. You sit beside her as she takes the device and connects it to your mother, flipping a switch to activate the EMP. Your mother wakes up, crying out in pain, before passing out again. The new device that Raven made automatically sucks the liquefied chip out of her head, so neither of you have to worry about that. As soon as the chip is out, Clarke smooths back your mom’s hair and whispers, “Mom? Can you hear me?”

She doesn't move, and Clarke starts to tear up. You shift closer as she says, “I know you're in there. Come back to us, we need you."

Her eyelids flutter open, and you and Clarke let out matching laughs of relief. Clarke whispers, “Hi. You're okay, you're okay.”

You both help your mother sit up, and as soon as she does, her eyes land on the cut marks on Clarke's chest. You don't have to ask, because you already gathered that Alie used your mother to torture Clarke, the same way she used Raven to torture your mother. But your mother bursts into tears as soon as she sees the wounds, and she rasps out, “I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Her voice breaks as she repeats, "I'm so sorry." 

Her head drops, her crying growing harder, and Clarke reaches out to lift her head again, gently scolding, “Hey, stop. It wasn't you."

She mutters, "No, no, no, no, no."

Clarke grows insistent, "No, it wasn't you.”

And as her cries start to die down, she adds, “Mom. I need your help."

Before Clarke can tell her why, the doors to the throne room burst open, and Bellamy, Murphy, and Pike come running in. As soon as Bellamy sees your mom awake and nearby, he lifts his gun, but you and Clarke put your arms up to shield her. “Wait, no!”

“I used the EMP. She's back."

Murphy turns to look at Ontari, still bleeding out on the floor nearby. "Well, what about Ontari? I thought you said we had one shot with that thing."

"I told you, Ontari is no longer an option for the Flame. She's brain dead." She turns to Bellamy. “Is the floor secure?"

"For now. Jaha and the guards are tied up in a bedroom."

Pike adds, "We took out the elevator and the ladder as we climbed. The stairs are collapsed. No one's following us."

"Good. Then we have time."

You pause, then look her way. “Wait, time for what?”

"An Ascension Ceremony."

Murphy gives her a look of bewilderment. "Ascension? You just said Ontari wasn't an option. Besides, she's still chipped, and we no longer have an EMP."

"We're not putting the Flame in Ontari's head. We're putting it in mine."

You and Bellamy both give her matching looks of disbelief, and you shake your head. “What? Clarke, that thing killed Emerson in seconds, liquified his brain."

"Emerson wasn't connected to a Nightblood."

Pike steps closer, asking, "Transfusion?"

"Not exactly."

And you think of the only other place on the Earth that connected people and filtered their blood through another person. "Connected like Mount Weather."

Clarke nods, confirming your guess, before turning to look at you mom. "Everything we need is in your medkit."

She abruptly stands up, already shaking her head. “No, it's too dangerous, and there are too many variables."

"But no options."

Your mom doesn't get the chance to counter the argument, because Octavia runs into the room, slightly panicked. "Whatever you're doing, you'd better do it fast."

Bellamy turns to look at his sister. "Why? What happened?"

"They're climbing."

As soon as she says the words, you all turn and run outside, stepping out onto the balcony and looking over the edge to see Grounders and Sky People alike scaling the building to reach you. And as if it just further proves her point, Clarke turns back to your mom. “I have to do this."

"Okay. I'll help you."

Your mom turns and disappears inside, and Clarke turns to you and Bellamy, wanting your approval too. You sigh, already knowing your answer, but you turn to look at Bellamy. He thinks it over, considering the options, or lack thereof, before nodding at her. “We’ll buy you time.”

She squeezes your hand in thanks, and turns to follow your mom back into the throne room. Bellamy turns to look at the others. “Gather all the lamp oil you can, and grease every entry point on this floor. It might not stop them forever, but maybe we can slow them down.”

They nod and run off, leaving you and Bellamy alone. You glance down at the rising line of people, climbing their way up to you, before locking eyes with Bellamy. “Are you ready for this?”

“As long as I have you by my side, I’m ready for anything.”

You smile and pull him into a kiss, letting him know that you feel the same way. When you pull away, you nod towards the door. “Let’s go save the world.”

You both walk back into the throne room, before grabbing one of the jugs of lamp oil and running from the room. You manage to grease the windows and floors of three rooms, and Bellamy picks up where you left off and greases the other three rooms on your hall. You go and check the other rooms, surveying the work of the others, pleased to find that all of the rooms are protected, save for one: The Commander’s Chambers. 

Miller walks out of the room beside the Commander's room and up to you, Bryan's arm wrapped around his shoulders, carrying his weight. He nods to the still ungreased room, “We had enough lamp oil for every room except that one.”

You watch as Bryan limps along and your eyes drift down to his leg, where blood is dripping from a sloppily tied bandage. You ignore the room, and look between them with concern, “What happened?”

“We got ambushed trying to get you guys to the top. Bryan took a bullet to the leg.”

You glance back towards the direction of the throne room. “We should try to bandage it better. We might not have time to fix you up just yet, but we can at least slow the bleeding.”

They nod, and you lead the three men back to the throne room, making a beeline for your backpack and grabbing one of the medkits. You pass Clarke, who is sitting on the throne, getting hooked up to Ontari by your mother, and she gives you a weak smile. You smile in return before turning back to Miller, motioning for him to put Bryan down on one of the steps. As you’re bandaging his leg and cleaning the wound the best you can, Pike comes in from the balcony. 

"Balcony's greased. No one's getting in through here."

Bellamy nods at him. “Good. We had enough lamp oil to cover every window and floor except in the Commander's chambers."

"Then that's where the fighting starts. We'll dig in there."

He immediately heads that way, and as soon as you finish fixing Bryan’s bandages, he’s reaching out for Nate. “I want to help Pike.”

Miller helps him to his feet, and you give him a serious look. “Try to keep him off that leg. He’s gonna give himself an infection if he keeps this up.”

Miller nods and mutters, “I’ll try.” 

They leave the room, following Pike, and Octavia turns to join them. You watch as Bellamy turns to watch her, calling, “O.”

She turns to face him, and he gives her a concerned look. “Be careful.”

She nods, and then glances at you, meeting your eyes before turning back and heading out the door. You stand and move closer to your twin as your mother announces, “We're all set."

She turns to look at Clarke, who has a look of worry on her face. You think of the watch on your wrist, and you quickly pull it off and attach it to her wrist. She looks down at it then back up to you, and you whisper, “For strength.”

She nods, and you can see some of her worry melt away as your mom asks, "Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

She flips the switch on the tubing connected to Clarke’s arm, and you all watch as Clarke’s blood flows through the tubing and into Ontari. And then she walks over to Ontari and flips the switch on her tubing, releasing Ontari’s blood. Clarke lets out a shaky breath as the dark Nightblood flows through the tube and towards her arm, and she is tense with anxiety as she watches the blood flow into her body. Bellamy senses her unease and jokes, “Try doing that hanging upside down."

She smiles a little, before turning to your mother who is hovering nearby, looking just as anxious. "This will work."

"And if it doesn't?"

Murphy walks over to your small group, answering your mother’s question. "If it doesn't work then she dies. If she doesn't try, then she dies with the rest of us when the climbers get here.”

He reaches for Clarke’s hand, where the Flame is clutched tight in her grip, but your mother stops him. He turns to her and says, “If we're gonna do this, I'm going to need the Flame."

"Mom, please. He knows what he's doing. You have to let me go."

She releases Murphy, who takes the Flame from Clarke’s grip, and then he comes to stand behind her. “Lean forward.”

She does as he says, but you see her hand anxiously reaching out for you. You take it, giving her a reassuring squeeze, and you reach out for Bellamy, who takes your hand to reassure you, the three of you forming a small chain of comfort.

"You ready?"

Clarke nods a little, glances at the watch on her wrist, and then tells him, "Do it."

Murphy lifts the Flame and mutters, "Ascende superius."

You watch as the Flame activates, growing a bunch of tiny tendrils that slither and move. Murphy moves the Flame closer to Clarke’s neck and the tendrils reach out for her, latching onto her. The Flame buries itself in her neck and Clarke squeezes your hand as she lets out a cry of pain. A second later, her head lulls to the side, unconscious. You look between your mother and Murphy, panicked. “Is she okay?”

Your mom reaches up and checks her pulse. “Her heart's racing. Get that thing out of her head!"

You look at Murphy and he shakes his head. Your mom spins towards him and yells, “I said, get that thing out of her head!"

Murphy straightens up, walking behind Clarke again, and as he reaches for her, she wakes up as if nothing happened at all. “No, no, not yet."

"Are you in any pain?"

“No, I'm okay.” She turns to look at you and Bellamy. “I know how to stop Alie. I have to take the chip."

You and Bellamy both look at her in confusion and ask, “What?"

"I have to go into the City of Light and find the kill switch."

Your mom turns Clarke’s head back towards her, forcing her to look at her. “Clarke, listen to me, Alie wants the Flame. If you take the chip, you're giving it to her. The second someone sees you, Alie is going to know you're there, and she'll kill you. If your mind dies, you die."

Clarke shakes her head. "The Flame will protect me. I don't know how I know...I just know."

You and Bellamy exchange a look, both of you confused by the situation, but trusting of Clarke. You nod at him and he walks away, quickly grabbing a chip from one of the discarded bags of chips on the table nearby. He comes back to your side, and holds the chip out to her. “We believe you."

Your mom, however, still has her doubts. "Do you even know what you're looking for?"

"I'll know when I find it."

Knowing that there’s nothing else that she can say to stop her, she leans forward and kisses Clarke, whispering, “May we meet again."

Clarke is confident when she answers, "We will."

She turns towards you and Bellamy, taking the chip from his outstretched hand, and you smile at her. "We'll keep you safe, shining star."

“I know you will. You always do.”

And then she lifts the chip to her mouth and swallows it, leaning back into the chair and closing her eyes, looking eerily serene. She reminds you of the people that were kneeling outside a few hours ago, and you realize now they must have been in the City of Light. You feel a pang of envy, because they really do seem at peace, but you’re quick to remind yourself of the shit Alie has put you and your friends through just to get people to join her.

As soon as you realize Clarke is going to be out for a while, you turn to Bellamy. “We should check on the others, see if anyone’s made it up yet.”

He nods and you turn to look at your mom. “Call if you need us.”

“I will.”

You and Bellamy turn to leave the room, both of you walking down the hall side by side as you head to the Commander’s chambers nearby. As you’re walking down a straight stretch of hallway, Miller and Bryan come around the corner at the end, Miller practically carrying Bryan. You can instantly tell that his wound is infected, because he is covered in sweat, his skin pale. You’re about to scold them, but then you have a rushing realization of what it means if Miller and Bryan are here with you. Octavia and Pike are alone. 

You look at Bellamy and he comes to the same conclusion, giving the two men an incredulous look. “You left her with Pike?"

Miller nods and you and Bellamy exchange a look, knowing that’s not a good sign. Because even though you want Pike dead, you told her to wait until he is no longer useful. Right now, given the low numbers on your side, he’s still useful. You and Bellamy rush past the couple and towards the chambers without another word, coming around the corner and into the doorway to see Pike on the ground between two men, getting his ass kicked. Octavia is a few feet away, just watching. Bellamy yells at his sister as soon as he sees her, “O! What are you doing?"

She turns around in surprise, and Bellamy runs into the room, towards the small group. Octavia reaches out for him as he nears them, desperately crying, “Bellamy, no!"

But he pulls himself from her grip and lifts his gun, shooting one of the men immediately. He falls to the ground and Bellamy turns to shoot the other, only managing to catch him in the leg. It doesn't matter though, because it gives Pike the upper hand, and he reaches out and twists the man’s head, breaking his neck. 

Bellamy reaches him and pulls him to his feet. “Can you stand?"

"She cut me!"

Bellamy looks at his sister in shock, but your eyes are glued to the window, watching as more heads pop into view. “Bellamy, we’ve got company!”

He turns towards the window and sees the rush of people, before yelling out, “Come on, we gotta go!

Pike yells, "We can't give up the room!"

You back up towards the door, as they run your way, and you yell back, "We already have!"

You watch a few Grounders drop into the room, and just as Octavia and Bellamy swing the doors closed, you spot Kane, pulling himself over the windowsill. You feel your stomach lurch, but you have no time to process him being chipped, because Bellamy starts tipping over furniture nearby, sliding it towards the door. “Help me!”

You help him push the dresser closer, barricading the door, and as Pike and Octavia add a bookcase to the mix, Pike tells her, “I told you. You need to get yourself under control if we're gonna survive this."

You turn and lean up against the bookcase, glaring at Pike as he does the same. “Shut up, Pike.”

Octavia and Bellamy lean against the barricade between you and him, and Octavia bangs her head against the wood a few times, frustrated. Bellamy whispers, “O, listen to me, I know how you feel. I let the need for revenge put me on the wrong side. I don't want that for you."

You can see her fighting back tears, and a sudden lurch at the door lets you know that the chipped army has arrived and they’re ready to take the door down. They hit the door in a steady beat, one after the next, all of you lurching each time. She tucks away her sadness and tells him, “You keep it closed. We'll get more for the barricade."

She reaches out for your hand and pulls you away, and as she does, you can hear Pike talking to Bellamy. “It wasn't the wrong side. If the Grounder army was still there when Lexa died, they would've attacked and you know it."

Octavia continues to pull you down the hall, and Bellamy’s response gets quieter and quieter as you move further away, but you’re able to catch most of it. "I wanted to see things like you. I needed that, to believe that they were bad and we were good. I don't know what I believe anymore, I just know that I have to live with what I've done."

You smile, proud of the progress he’s made, and allow Octavia to pull you into the first room she sees, looking around for the biggest pieces of furniture. She spots a table nearby and heads straight for it, and you grab the other end. As you’re both taking it back down the hall, she avoids your eyes, knowing that she acted prematurely against Pike. You scold her anyways, “I said after he stopped being useful, Octavia. I know you're mad, that you hate working with him, but having him around right now is one more body between us and the chipped army. We can sacrifice him before we have to give any of ourselves up.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don't be. Just, please, wait until this is finished. He tried to kill me, and I want him dead just as much as you do. But right now, Clarke is more important than anything else. We have to keep her safe.”

She nods, just as you come around the corner, passing the table to the others. By now, Miller has returned from dropping off Bryan, and he’s leaning against the barrier, helping Bellamy and Pike. You tell them, “There’s more furniture in other rooms. One or two people stay on the door, the rest of us bring back more furniture.”

Everyone agrees and starts to rotate, leaving one person holding the barricade while the others run off. During your rotation at the door, Bryan comes limping down the hall, and you start to give him a scolding look, but a particularly hard crash hits the barricade, and you lurch forwards, losing your footing. He rushes forward and scrambles to hold everything back and you pull yourself to your feet and lean against it with him. You nod, “Thanks.”

When everyone returns with more furniture, tossing it against the growing barricade, Bryan shouts, "This isn't gonna hold for long!"

To prove his point, another large bang hits the door, and you both shift forwards, until the others run forwards and lean against it with you. Miller looks over at Bellamy, “Sounds like there's a lot of 'em! Maybe it's time to go to guns."

Pike comes around the corner, holding up a handful of shock batons. "We've got something better than guns."

He runs over to you and Bellamy, whispering his plan. “The hallway around the corner drops down, making it perfect to hold water. We wait for them to stand in the water, and then we drop the shock batons in. There’s not enough electricity in them to kill them, just knock them out.”

You nod, “We’ll get it set up, hold the barricade.”

He takes your place at the door, and Bellamy runs after you as you run to the hall in question. You stop and look around, trying to find a water source, and Bellamy puts a hand on your shoulder, urging you to turn around. He points to an old rusty pipe, half hanging out of the wall. He hands you his rifle and you use the butt end of it to hit the pipe over and over until it bursts, spilling water all over the floor. You step back as it rushes over your shoes, soaking your socks, and you and Bellamy watch the water flow out of the wall until it stops, nothing left inside. 

Bellamy climbs the stairs and runs into one of the rooms, grabbing a bunch of crates and tossing them to you one by one, for all of you to stand on. You place them strategically around the exit to the hall, back towards the throne room, before you each give a satisfied nod and run back to the others. As soon as you see them, you turn to look at Miller. “You and Bryan go first, stop just on the other side of the hallway.”

They nod and quickly move that way, leaving you, Pike, Bellamy, and Octavia behind. After waiting a minute, you turn to Pike and Bellamy. “Someone needs to be the bait to stop them in the hall.”

“I will.”

You all turn to look at Octavia, and you nod, accepting her volunteer. You look back at Pike and Bellamy. “You two go next, me and Octavia will be the last two.”

They run off, following Bryan and Miller’s path, and you and Octavia lean against the door, keeping the increasing strength of the group at bay for as long as possible. “Get as many of them as you can into the water before you call out to us. There are boxes on our end of the hallway for you to jump on so you won't get shocked.”

“Okay.”

You wait a minute longer before looking over at her. “Ready?”

She waits for the next hit to bang against the door, and based off the rhythmic flow of the banging, you know you only have a few seconds to get away from the barricade, down the hall, and into position. As soon as you lurch forward she mutters, “Let’s go.”

You both tear away from the door and run down the hall, round the corner into the waterlogged hall. She pushes you ahead, knowing you need to get to the other side, and you splash through the water quickly, reaching Bellamy and Miller as they wait for you. Bellamy hands you two shock batons, before grabbing two more, and Miller takes the last two, all of you clustering together at the end of the hall, just out of view. Octavia comes to a stop in the water, right beside a crate, and Bellamy motions to each of you, telling you which crate to aim for so that none of you end up on the same one.

You only have to wait a second before you hear the crash of the barricade hitting the ground the next hall over, and seconds later you see a charge of chipped people enter the space, Kane at the lead. Octavia lifts her hands in surrender as soon as she sees them. “Wait, Kane. I give up, I'll take the chip."

Kane steps towards her, entering the water, and the others step in behind him. "Good, no one else has to die, ever. Maybe you can convince your mentor of that."

Octavia tenses up, dropping her arms to her side. "Indra's alive?"

He nods, walking even closer to her, allowing the rest of the group to follow him into the water. "Yes. On the cross, suffering needlessly."

As soon as she sees the last man step into the water, she yells, "NOW!" 

You, Miller, and Bellamy jump into action, lighting up the shock batons at the same time as you come around the corner. You see Octavia jump onto her box, to safety, and you head straight for the box on the right side, the one Bellamy pointed you towards. He runs to the one beside you, and Miller takes the one on the left. As you all jump onto your crates, avoiding the water, you toss the shock batons into the water, watching as they fall straight into your plan. You see realization cross Kane's features just as the batons make contact with the water, and there is a loud collective groan as they shake with shock, before dropping to the ground, unconscious. The shock batons automatically shut off after contact with the water, making it safe for the rest of you, and you jump down as Pike comes around the corner. "Hurry up. Let's get their weapons."

You all run towards the group, stripping them of every weapon you can find: guns, knives, pipes, tools, leaving them with nothing other than their fists. As soon as they’re disarmed, you head straight to the throne room, dumping the weapons into a corner, out of everyone's reach. As you walk back to the middle of the room, you realize the scene in front of you, Clarke and Ontari, is different from before. Clarke now has Nightblood around her nose, obvious that something has gone wrong. Ontari’s chest is cracked open, and Murphy stands there, manually pumping her heart. 

You turn to look at your mother, concerned, but she gives you a reassuring smile. “Ontari was crashing, and Clarke wasn't getting enough Nightblood. But with Murphy pumping her heart, there’s no need to worry.”

You glance at Bellamy as he closes the throne room doors. “Actually, there is. We bought you as much time as we could, but the chipped army is going to be here soon.”

Bellamy and the others barricade the door with as much furniture as they can find in the room, piling it high and deep, hoping to slow down the group that is now on the other side, banging against the doors. You all come to a stop in the middle of the room, spreading out, and Bellamy yells, “This is it! We need to keep Clarke safe, give her time. They're unarmed and they won't feel pain, and they won't stop until they're out cold."

Miller tosses him a lead pipe, and answers, “Copy that. Go for the knockout."

Bryan passes you the leg of a chair, made up of thick wood, and you nod in thanks. Bellamy comes to a stop slightly in front of you and Octavia, protective, and Pike stand on his left. Miller and Bryan are to your right, guarding Murphy, and your mother stands in front of Clarke, gun cocked, ready to shoot anyone who gets past the rest of you. There is nothing for the rest of you to do now, but wait as the chipped army gets the doors open, inch by inch, pushing through the barrier. As soon as it’s open, chaos reigns supreme.

Two men run straight for you and Bellamy, and you each take on one. You hit the man in front of you in the stomach, and he instantly doubles over, giving you the opening to hit him in the head with the chair leg, knocking him out. As soon as he hits the ground, another man takes his place, this one from Arkadia. He swings a punch towards you, but you duck beneath it, using your low advantage to swipe at his feet and knock him on his back. You stand and kick him, hard enough to knock him out, before the next group descends upon you. One man and one woman, both Grounders, head straight for you. The woman swings first, and as you’re dodging her, the man hits you across the face. You taste blood in your mouth, and you run your tongue over your bottom lip, discovering that the hit split it open. You swing at him with the chair leg, hitting him across the face, before turning and kicking the woman, your boot connecting with her chest and sending her backwards. The man lets out a cry of rage before running at you, but he never reaches you, because he falls to the ground, knocked out by Bellamy. 

You look up at him and smile, before turning back to the entrance, watching Kane stroll in. You and Bellamy both run towards him, and he hits Bellamy first, knocking him onto his back. You run forward, swinging the chair leg towards him, but he lifts an arm to block it, knocking the weapon from your hand. Before you can react, you are pulled backwards, a strong pair of arms locking around you, and you kick and scream as a chipped Grounder turns and tosses you on the ground. You look over and see Bellamy and Kane fighting, matching blow for blow, and you look back to the Grounder in the nick of time to see his shoe hurtling towards your face. You roll away, just in time, before rolling back over and swiping at his legs with your hands, tripping him. The force of the fall cracks his head against the floor, knocking him unconscious. 

You turn back towards Bellamy, who is now pinned beneath Kane, getting punched over and over. You run at them with a cry of anger, knocking Kane off of Bellamy, sending you both flying. When you finally roll to a stop, Kane is already up and descending upon you, his hands instantly finding your throat and squeezing. You try to keep yourself from panicking, wanting to preserve your air. He loosens his grip slightly when a shot rings out, someone killed at your mother’s hand, but the relief doesn't last long. You look around, searching for Bellamy, eyes finding him as he runs towards Kane. Your expression must give him away, because Kane reaches down and pulls the knife from the holster at your thigh, plunging it into Bellamy’s side.

You let out a cry of anguish as you watch him look down at the knife in shock, blood instantly blooming from beneath his jacket, dripping onto the floor below. You reach up and smack Kane across the face, while using your weight to throw him off. You crawl towards Bellamy, reaching out for him, and your hands touch just as a hand closes around your ankle. Bellamy looks at you and whispers, “I love you, blainen natshana.”

Radiant moon. Your eyes well up with tears at the Trigedasleng nickname, but you have little time to process it before you are yanked backwards by the ankle, towards Kane. He reaches up and begins to choke you again, and you look over at Bellamy, watching as a chipped Grounder gets on top of him and starts to choke him. He turns towards you, reaching out for you, and you reach out for him, your fingers separated my inches. Still, your eyes never leave each other as the air is squeezed from both of you. You watch as Bellamy's face turns pink, then purple, his body struggling for oxygen. You’re sure that you must look the same, black spots now dancing at the edge of your vision, your body starting to twitch as you fight for air.

And just when you think it’s over, you’re done, Kane releases you. You take in a deep gasp of air, drinking in the oxygen for the second time in the least few hours, relieved that you’ve been spared from death by choking once again. You hear a collective cry of pain as the chipped army returns from the City of Light, feeling their injuries for the first time. But you ignore it, looking at Kane, who has rolled off you, sitting frozen in shock. His hands hover in the air between you, unsure whether he wants to reach out to you and comfort you or shrink away, ashamed that he almost killed you. 

You reach out and grab his hand, muttering, “It wasn't you, Kane. It wasn't you.”

You’re not sure he’s processing your words, as he stays frozen in place, but you get distracted by someone dropping to their knees beside you. You turn and look, coming face to face with Bellamy, and you scramble towards him, pulling him into a hug. He pulls away just enough to kiss you, strong and fierce, and you can feel tears rolling down his face, pressing into yours. You pull away, smiling, mostly in disbelief. “Blainen natshana, huh? Who taught you Trigedasleng?”

“Same person who taught you: Lincoln.” You feel a rush of sadness, but he smiles at the memory. “He was teaching me a few things, before...everything. I wanted to surprise you.”

Your smile grows wider, “Your timing is impeccable.”

“Shut up.” He lets out a little laugh, and pulls you in for another kiss, making you forget everything from the last 24 for a few seconds, until you pull away, remembering your twin. 

“Clarke!” You jump to your feet, and Bellamy follows suit. You look around the room for a second, and both of you see Octavia on the other side of the room, standing, looking fine. Bellamy nods at her, happy to see her alive, and she nods in return, before the two of you jog over to Clarke. You pass your mom on the way to the throne, and she squeezes your hand as she passes, but she only has eyes for Kane, who is still where you left him, crying softly. 

As soon as you reach Clarke, you pull her into a hug, and she hugs you back, squeezing you tight. You pull away and help her stand, and she looks out at the room, nodding. “Alie’s gone.”

You follow her gaze, watching the various reunions. And though they’re sad and so many of the others are feeling pain, you feel relief that everything is fixed. You smile, “We figured.”

You turn back to you twin, but are surprised to find her face solemn. Bellamy notices too, and he remarks, “You're not acting like someone who just saved the world."

She turns and looks between you both. "Because we didn't. Not yet."

Neither of you get to question her further, because you suddenly hear a grunt of exertion, followed by a soft groan of pain. All three of you abruptly turn towards the noise, and find Octavia standing in front of Pike, her sword stuck in his side. She pushes against the blade until the sword moves all the way through him, and out the other side. She pulls the blade out and he sways on his feet before falling backwards, dead before he hits the ground. She stares at him for a second, confirming that he’s gone, before she turns and glances at you, confirming that it’s done. Then, without a word, she walks out of the room, leaving everyone else staring after her in shock, Bellamy among them.

-

next chapter

[ladymaigrey]

Enneagram and DD/Defenders – Part 1 – Enneagram Theory

(not much about DD/Defenders in this post either - go to the next one in the series for Enneagram analysis of Matt)

Find all the posts in https://ladymaigrey.tumblr.com/tagged/enneagram (or go to my blog and look for “enneagram” tag)

TL:DR – According to Enneagram – we are born perfect, with particular potential strengths and abilities to exist in balance with the world and each other. But then we get screwed up: our strengths get twisted into obsessive pursuits of external goals aimed to overcome core fears, which we internalised from childhood, while other parts of ourselves get ignored/suppressed/disowned. All this prevents us from reacting to the world genuinely, to assess threats appropriately, to pursue authentic goals and to show true love to others and to ourselves.

There are nine archetypal ways in which our strengths get twisted (e.g. natural curiosity turns into ‘I must know the truth about everything’). Each archetype is related to a core fear (e.g. if I don’t know everything, I can’t be independent; if I am not independent - I will be taken advantage of, I will be hurt). Each archetype is also characterised by an emotion that tends to arise whenever a person’s idealised self-image is threatened and the core fear is triggered (e.g. avarice – need to get more knowledge and resources to support one’s sense of independence and control).

Very few people (if any) find their traits belonging to one archetype only. We share most strongly in the traits of “neighbouring” archetypes along the Enneagram “wheel”.

In order to achieve psychological balance we should aim to acquire characteristics of opposite archetypes on the wheel (i.e. move against the arrow - see diagram at the bottom of the post).

When we are under stress, we tend to move “along the arrow” and acquire characteristics that may help us escape the issues in the immediate term, but acquire more problems along the way.

The Enneagram theory (which originates from the teachings of Sufism) proposes that a person is born with certain innate strengths, as well as ability to experience and react to the world fully and authentically. If one prefers a mythological perspective, it can be said that we are born perfect – the way that God intended us to be.

And then we get misshapen. We build some of our strengths into protective armour and weapons for the means of external “achievement”, to the exclusion of our other strengths, feelings, motivating drives – all the things that should allow us to live in harmony with the world and each other. Everything gets twisted – our intentions, our behaviors. We “miss the mark” of our true natural calling (yes, the word harmatia – Greek for sin – is a very appropriate term for describing the implications of this process from a theological perspective; (Naranjo, 1973, p. 184)).

In other words, our strengths from God become the tools of the Devil.

(And if people’s minds went immediately to thinking about Matt’s continuous existential crisis and his “why did God put the Devil in me?” conversation with Father Lantom – yes, yes, YES, that’s exactly where my head went, too.)

The Enneagram proposes 9 distinct sets of these “strengths” and suggests the ways in which they may be twisted into rigid patterns of beliefs about self and the world. From Hook et al. (2020):

“Each of the nine Enneagram types can be captured by imperative statements describing a core internal need and a core fear … In its most basic form, each type can be summarized by the terms “strength” and “passion.” Rohr (1990) describes strength as the best and most true self—akin to one's authentic or self‐actualized sense of self. Conversely, he describes passion as the “wrong way out;” that is, passions describe defence mechanisms built up to engage efficiently with the surrounding world while protecting oneself from emotional pain. In psychological terms, we might frame these two features as healthy authenticity and unhealthy defensiveness.” (p. 3)

Wagner (1980) describes these twisted “strengths” as ego-fixations and idealised self-images – i.e. a set of (usually unrealistic) beliefs about ourselves and the “shoulds” we tell ourselves we must meet in order to feel secure (e.g. “I am successful; I must continue rising up the ladder of success”). The “passion” is seen as the individual’s characteristic emotional tone, or the go-to emotion that tends to arise when one’s idealised self-image is threatened. 

“In Western ascetical terminology they [passions] would be called vices or defective habits.” (p. 35)

This table is from Hook et al. (2020) and describes the nine Enneagram archetypes, their strongest personality traits, their core desires (ego-fixations), the core fears that their personality system is designed to protect them against, and the emotional “vices” that characterise their defensiveness (which, not accidentally, overlap the Seven Deadly Sins)

Something important to remember here: these are theoretical constructs. Very few people will fit distinctly one archetype. In fact, one of the problems with the application of the Enneagram theory in psychological research is the difficulty in devising a questionnaire that classified participants into distinct Enneagram types. People tended to score a bit on this type, a bit on that type, and there was very little differentiation between participants. Which, from mental health perspective, was a good thing. According to the theory, the more rigidly one adheres to a single type, the more likely it is that the behavioural patterns are maladaptive.

Enneagram theory does have sub-classifications or sub-typologies to allow for more nuance in the theoretical constructs. So, the nine types can be divided into three groups according to the preferred strategies for processing information: The Heart, which prioritizes emotional information, The Head, which prioritizes thoughtful/logical processing, and The Gut, which prioritizes instinctive information processing.

Heart = types 2, 3, 4

Head = types 5, 6, 7

Gut/Body = types 1, 8, 9

The Enneagram theory also proposes a tendency for individuals to “move” between types under conditions of stress or security. The movement is theorised to move according to the below diagram, with movement along the arrows happening under conditions of stress, and movement against the arrows under conditions of security, i.e. it is proposed that balance and mental health lies in the direction counter to the arrows, while moving along the arrows will compound a person’s distress with maladaptive behaviors of another type.

Copied from Wagner (1980)

(That said, this type movement, as well as the Head, Heart, Gut division is subject of much disagreement among the proponents of the Enneagram theory.)

So, what are each of the types in their “purest” form? And how well do the characters out of DD/Defenders fit these?

The next post is Type 1 which happens to fit the Idiot that I love best – Matt Murdock.

References

Hook, J.N., Hall, T.W., David, D.E., Van Tongeren, D.R., & Conner, M. (2020). The Enneagram: A systematic review of the literature and directions for future research, Journal of Clinical Psychology, 1-19. DOI: 10.1002/jclp.23097

Naranjo, C. (1973). The one quest. New York: Ballantine Books.

Wagner, J.P. (1980). A descriptive, reliability, and validity study of the Enneagram personality typology (Doctoral Dissertation). Retrieved from https://ecommons.luc.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=3108&context=luc_diss

[idontfindyouthatinteresting]

is there a quest line in death stranding??? i love norman but people on here have been telling me the game is unique but boring at a lot of times with many long cutscenes?

Hey, so I’ll publish this just incase anyone else is thinking the same thing (and because I accidentally had a lot to write on this topic)...

There is definitely something you’re building towards!

Everyone has their own things that entice them to a game, and honestly, I’m a pain in the arse with this, I don’t do first person shooters, I don’t do pointless killing, so Death Stranding is like, the perfect game for me, it’s the right level of thought experiment, emotional gratification and pretty aesthetics to keep me hooked. So it’s not a blanket rule for everyone, but these are the things that I liked about the game which keep you engaged...

You have to constantly think about:

Sam’s cargo load, what can you afford to take, what can you not

Sam’s gear, what do you need, his shoes will wear out, will you need spares

Your route - avoiding BT’s, MULEs, terrorists, mountains, water and ravines you can’t traverse

Every step you take, particularly when you have a lot of gear, has to be planned and thought about, you can’t just run around, there’s plenty of the walking which is agonizing to do, you have to think and work at it. I worked Sam super hard.

Sam and Lou need rest, care, even emotional support, which you’ll need to provide to both of them, and Sam needs to pee, alot, that’s what happens when you drink nothing but monster.

Your deliveries, lots of deliveries have special requirements, you can’t deliver damaged cargo, you can’t turn some loads upside down, some you have to carry by hand they’re so fragile, some you can’t get wet.

Timefall - the rain will age and damage EVERYTHING, this has big implications for your cargo, your bridges, roads, ladders, ropes.

I had someone mention to me they were surprised I was having to use grenades and H2H combat in the game (I avoided using the guns apart from on big BTs or Cliff) they genuinely didn’t think there were enemies to get through and there are. Lots of different types which require different strategies. 

Because there was so much to think about I never got bored. 

I think that what might have happened is the game is very generous with it’s difficulty levels, if people were bored they should have upped the difficulty level, there’s ‘very easy’ (for people who aren’t gamers but who are enjoying the game for the performances) ‘easy,’ ‘normal,’ and ‘hard’ and you can alter the difficulty throughout the course of the game, so if you’re finding a bit too easy, it’s boring, just increase the difficulty level to make it more complex.

I played the ‘very easy’ mode because I haven’t properly played games for over a year because I was studying full time and working full time (10/10 would not recommend, anyway, I digress) so I was RUSTY AS SHIT. So I played very easy, and it is easy as pie. I only died twice, and that was from falling off a mountain. But yeah, if you get bored, make it harder on yourself. 

There’s also another side to this really, yes, making a ton of deliveries, particularly in the parts of the game where you have to convince people to join the UCA by running pointless errands (go and get your own fucking fountain pen mate, Sam got a world to save!) isn’t necessarily what you want to be doing, but that’s a part of it. Kojima is looking at bringing you a cinematic experience, which involves empathy with characters, making you feel what they feel. So getting pissed off when Sam stumbles is great because, Sam is pissed off too. 

You don’t really get that level of empathy with games where you just shoot your way through things. 

The overall story is you need to connect up something called the ‘chiral network’ which is used to collate and share information between cities and researchers after an extinction level event (the Death Stranding) in a hope that humanity will live through it.

The deliveries are firstly part of Sam’s job as a porter, but also a means to convince individual people and cities to join up. 

So there is an overarching plot to the whole thing, and lots of sub plots and strands to unpick.

Yes, there are a lot of cutscenes, I was surprised but they’re all captivating to watch, beautifully written, performed and designed. So I was finding myself looking forward to the next one.

Honestly, if you’re a Norman fan, there’s a lot of him, just being him in this game. Kojima clearly loves him dearly and it’s a piece of fan service to him in a way (just like Mads and NWR and GDT and Lea) He’s allowed to be himself. Sam is a very serious and troubled character in a lot of ways, and Norman carries this beautifully, but you do also see him in all the silly quiet moments Sam has to himself. 

And honestly I’m a very recent convert to Norman, the only way I can describe him is “chaotic fluff” bless his heart.

In summary it’s difficult, there’s plenty about this game that I loved, I’m slightly addicted to talking about it (can you tell?) because it was so fresh and I enjoyed it’s message so thoroughly from it’s political/social message, to it’s commentary on toxic masculinity to it’s anti-gun message. It’s thoroughly up my alley.

But not everyone’s alley is the same. I can understand why there’s criticism, why there’s rejection of it’s ideas and themes. There are some things in Death Stranding that the video game consumer base isn’t ready to tackle yet.

So I would say, if this stuff interests you, then go for it, if it doesn’t, then maybe give it a miss. But everyone who I know who bought the game for pure Mads reasons (because, we’re Fannibals) was thoroughly impressed and happy with their purchase.

Good luck!

[atomicblackpinkreaderinsertpeach]

RM (BTS) Facts and Profile, RM’s Ideal Type

RM Profile and Facts; RM’s Ideal Type

Stage Name: RM (His old stage name was Rap Monster)

Real name: Kim Namjoon

Birthday: September 12, 1994

Zodiac sign: Virgo

Birthplace: Ilsan, Gyeonggi-do

Height: 181 cm (5’11”)

Weight: 74 kg (162 lbs)

Blood Type: A

RM’s Spotify list: RM’s Heavy Rotations

RM facts:

– He was born in Ilsan, Gyeonggi-do, South Korea

– His family consists of: Dad, mom, younger sister

– Education: Apgujeong High School; Global Cyber University – Electronic engineering major (bachelor)

– RM studied in New Zealand and lived/stayed there for 6 months.

– He’s currently enrolled to Global Cyber University.

– Pre-debut he had already been performing as an underground rapper, with several tracks released informally, including a collaboration with Zico (Block B).

– He’s really smart with an IQ of 148. He was previously ranked in the top 1% of the nation in his high school exams.

– He speaks English fluently.

– RM’s TOEIC (The Test of English for International Communication) score was 900.

– There was a rumor among the Korean fans that at the age of 15, Namjoon had a heart surgery with a 30% chance of living (but that’s just a rumor).

– Hobbies: Surfing the web, walking in a park, cycling, photography, mountain climbing.

– He is good at ice-skating.

– He’s a great supporter of Gay/Lesbian’s rights.

– He has a younger sister the same age as Jungkook but when asked if he would introduce her to him, he said N.O.

– His image before debut was a neat and quiet student.

– He started to write lyrics since he was in school, on his textbook.

– RM has composed/produced 100+ songs.

– RM’s nicknames are “Rap Mon” (shortened), “Leader Mon” (because he is the leader) and “God of Destruction” or “the destroyer” (he destroys everything he touches: sunglasses, clothes, doorknobs, bunk bed ladders. Hence, his members gave him this nickname).

– Clothes matter to him

– His favorite foods are meat and Kalguksu (Korean knife noodles).

– BTS has been around since 2010, but they debuted in 2013 because of the constant member change up. RM is the only member left from the original line up.

– Despite his rough and tough image, he is very playful and relaxed.

– His favorite colors are black, pink and purple. (BTS interview for J-14 Magazine from 170505)

– Purple was his favourite colour when he was little. It reminds him of his childhood. (BTS 3rd Muster)

– He nicknamed himself as Pink Mon, because he used to like pink.

– His favorite number is 1.

– His favorite items are clothes, computer, books.

– He likes clear weather.

– Namjoon had a dream of being a security guard when he was still young.

– Rap Mon’s role model is Kanye West and A$AP Rocky.

– RM wrote the lyrics of ‘No More Dream’ because he had no dreams when he was in school.

– He, along with Jung Hunchul (ex member of Bangtan) wrote a Brave Brother/YG diss track called ‘Hook’.

– He wants to be a rich Rapper in 10 years.

– He has a dog, whose name is RAP MON.

– He would like to make a sub-unit with Jungkook.

– He was the first member to join BTS.

– He likes to imitate his members.

– Rap Mon said that he and GOT7 Jackson are good friends. He said Jackson is very handsome and really good at dancing.

– During high school, Rap Mon and BTOB’s Ilhoon were classmates in the same club: Design Club. (Weekly Idol 140702)

– On March 4, 2015, he released his 1st solo single, a collaboration with Warren G, entitled “P.D.D (Please Don’t Die)”

– He released his first solo mixtape, “RM” on March 17, 2015.

– On November 13 2017, Namjoon wrote a message on the group’s official fan cafe announcing he changed his stage name from Rap Monster to RM. Namjoon stated that “RM” could mean anything you wanted, like for example “Real Me”.

– On October 23, 2018 he released his “Mono” mixtape. He released three MVs: “Moonchild”,”Forever Rain”, and “Seoul” off of his mixtape.

– RM’s ideal date: “It’s like the ordinary college student date. We can see a movie together, eating together, walking together. I want to have love like that. It’s because i can’t at all. (Laugh)”

– Some of his popular quotes are: “Jimin, you got no jams” and “Team work makes the dream work”.

Other members about RM:

– Suga: “On the stage, Rap Mon wears sunglasess and has a powerful image but actually he likes cute things. He keeps the ‘Pocket Monster Ball’ on his bed that he received at a fansign.”

– Jin: “The Baby Dinosaur Dolly. He shakes his tail and crushes things.”

– Jimin: ” In the fact, he gets hurt easily.”

– In the old dorm, he used to shares a room with V.

– In the new dorm he has his own room. (180327: BTS’ JHOPE & JIMIN – MORE MAGAZINE MAY ISSUE)

– RM is ranked 79th on TC Candler “The 100 Most Handsome Faces of 2018”.

– RM’s ideal type: “sexy, even to a brain. Someone that is thoughtful and confident”

Source: Google

Special thx to:https://kprofiles.com/

[sir-adamus]

Jack was always awful

so there’s this general (and frankly bizarre given there’s plenty of easy access to the context) consensus in the fandom that Jack was actually a decent guy until the Pre-Sequel (and that everything is Lilith and Moxxi’s fault blah blah blah, yeah yeah, we get it you’re very transparent)

but here’s the thing like, the series itself doesn’t agree with you, so let’s put things in chronological order:

Before Borderlands 1

- murdered his first wife (oh sure he claims Angel did it, unable to control her powers, but he’s also a self-serving liar and canonically gaslights her, “he’ll try to guilt you, to make you think it’s your fault”, so calling bullshit on that), and oh how convenient that now he gets to exploit Angel’s abilities for his own ends afterwards

- Jack forces a very young Angel into a ‘chair’ and forces her to use her abilities for his own gain in climbing the corporate ladder by having her pretend to be an AI, using the death of her mother as an excuse - she is in there for the rest of her life until her Vault Hunter assisted suicide and she is under his near constant control (she’s not even allowed to swear)

- murdered his second wife (oh yeah he claims she ‘bolted’ in TFTBL but the first time we heard about her, in the mission “Get to Know Jack” in BL2, it’s stated that she disappeared after finding out about Angel, and Jack strangles the guy who brought her up)

Borderlands 1

- made Angel manipulate the BL1 Vault Hunters so they’d open the Vault and unleash the Destroyer (and release Eridium, which he was planning for); when she questions him he yells at her to shut up - to put that in full context, he used Angel to trick the Vault Hunters into releasing an alien superweapon that would’ve killed everyone on the planet if they hadn’t killed it

Before Borderlands The Pre-Sequel

- used the eye of the Destroyer to construct the Eye of Helios, a wave motion gun, with the intent on using it to commit genocide on Pandora (yeah just an FYI - building a giant laser powerful enough to nearly blow up the moon to target ‘bandit camps’ when Jack defines a bandit as anyone he doesn’t like - doesn’t make him look like a good person)

- briefly dated Moxxi, she dumped him when she realised what a sociopathic monster he was beneath his ‘nice guy hero’ facade (he also blew up her Underdome for this, though whether that was before or after the Pre-Sequel is left unclear)

- started hiring for body doubles, like Timothy Lawrence, who had their bodies reconstructed to be identical to his and bombs implanted in their faces to prevent tampering with the permanent alterations, and forcing said doubles to sign NDAs preventing them from even saying their own names

- begins mining Pandora for Eridium (and refining it - the Slag runoff from the refinement is used to charge the Eye of Helios), which reduces part of the landscape into a craggy wasteland spewing lava, volcanic ash constantly raining down (the Slag runoff of Eridium refinement is also just dumped all over the place, polluting the planet further)

this was all before Jack made his first chronological appearance

Borderlands The Pre-Sequel

okay here we go, Jack makes his chronological debut here

- loses his temper and murders the Meriff after the latter tries shooting him in the back and misses, yells “I was gonna let you live you dumb bastard, what is wrong with you?!” before commenting that it felt invigorating

- gonna just make a whole sub-thing for Felicity:

when Felicity starts having doubts during the ‘build a robot army’ plan, Jack dismisses her like he’s not even listening because he’s more focused on getting what he want, he then proceeds to casually threaten Gladstone Katoa (”By the way, last guy who double-crossed me's got nothing but a bunch of bullet holes and a stupid look on his face. Get me?”)

later when Felicity suggests just copying her because she’d find it much less terrifying than being uploaded to the Constructor, Jack asks her to clarify how much less terrifying - “It's the difference between brain surgery and being scanned.” - Jack just says he’ll ‘think about it’

Felicity complains that she doesn’t enjoy killing, he just waves that off by saying he doesn’t enjoy it either

he then orders Felicity’s mind wiped because copying her would take too long, offers a half-hearted apology when he says Elpis can’t wait, and then tells Gladstone to “Keep the military stuff, anything that can help us in a fight. Trash the rest.” Afterwards he doesn’t even care that he’s just had Felicity killed because he got his cool robot army

- ejects Gladstone and a couple other innocent scientists into space because one of the scientists still working in R&D might’ve been a traitor, so he killed all of them just to be sure (well he had his Vault Hunters do it but same diff) - what a hero. he then immediately tries to turn it around like he did everyone a favour - “Y'know, if I hadn't airlocked those scientists, one of 'em mighta turned those defenses back on just as you were walking through. Woulda fried you like a skag steak. Think on that.”

- this is the point in the story in TVHM where Athena admits she’d been suspecting she’d been working for the bad guy for a while

- kills Zarpedon because he gets bored of listening to her when she’s trying to explain what’s in the Vault on Elpis

- Moxxi tricks Jack and his Vault Hunters into blowing up the Eye of Helios, telling Jack she should’ve done it a long time ago because he’s a “power-hungry psychopath” - “I've been watching you, Jack. And behind that smile, behind that hero complex, there's something wrong about you. If you come down from Helios alive, a lot of decent people will live to regret it.” Jack screams that she, Lilith and Roland are no better than bandits because they destroyed an alien superweapon that he wanted to use (so i really don’t get why anyone was sympathising with him on this)

- Jack grows increasingly savage and unstable following this as the metaphorical mask starts slipping; ranting about how he’s going to ‘deal with them all’, threatens his boss just for asking for an update, then talking about how he wanted to use whatever’s in the Vault to kill Roland, Lilith, Moxxi and “all those sons of bitches”. he then loudly threatens Tassiter’s life after he calls to say he’s fired again (and like, okay, Tassiter’s an asshole, but he’s ‘dickhead boss’ asshole, he’s not ‘strangle you for talking shit, being in the same room or just for breathing’ asshole, which Jack is). it all comes to a head after he gets the treasure in the Vault and it shows him the Warrior and how to get to it (use Eridium to charge the Vault Key using a Siren as a catalyst), before Lilith punches the relic into his face, scarring him and destroying whatever restraint he had left - he plans to scorch Pandora in fire

- Jack makes good on his threat to Tassiter, strangling him to death and taking over Hyperion

- Claptastic Voyage - Jack sends his Vault Hunters after the H-source code that was buried in Claptrap’s virtual mind by Tassiter. full of access codes, prototype schematics and all sorts of Hyperion secrets. he uses it to destroy Claptrap’s product line and to add insult to injury, kills our Claptrap - who’d been retrofitted into a Vault Hunter. only reason he survived was the Shadowtrap (the true AI behind Vaulthunter.exe that Claptrap’s base AI overrides) keeping him functioning, his own incredibly robust chassis (as a result of being INAC and the Fragtrap) and Hammerlock finding him

Before Borderlands 2

in no particular order

- kidnapped Tannis and tortured her for days to make her give up the Vault Key

- started injecting the Eridium he’d refined into Angel to increase her power in order to charge the Vault Key faster - this also left her so reliant on Eridium that cutting off her supply would kill her in less than a minute

- started forcing his scientists to experiment on the population of Pandora (’bandits’), often by threatening and blackmailing them, like he did Dr Samuels by holding her wife hostage. this experimentation resulted in Psychos like Krieg, as well as other mutants

- the aforementioned experimentation also makes up Tiny Tina’s backstory - her family was taken there and while she escaped, her parents are dead or worse

- he destroyed New Haven, a central location from the first game, trying to flush Lilith out. Helena Pierce was forced to relocate her people to Sanctuary - she didn’t make it, and Jack made fun of her face scarring for good measure, and a number of New Haven citizens in the process

and a lot of others that i can’t remember the specifics on

Borderlands 2

oh jesus christ

- literally blows up a train to try and kill the Vault Hunters at the beginning of the game

you know what there’s just too much in BL2, i’ll just stick to the main ones

- captures Mordecai’s beloved companion Bloodwing, mutates the crap out of her and then blows her head off - later puts her decapitated corpse on display in his city Opportunity

- forces Angel to manipulate the new Vault Hunters into taking down Sanctuary’s shield so he can blow it up

- when Angel gets sick of him and communicates with the Vault Hunters against his orders to try and help them stop him, he starts torturing her

- kills Roland, steps over Angel’s body to gloat and then caps that off by capturing Lilith, hooking her up to Angel’s Eridium injectors and starts stabbing her because the Eridium makes her heal quicker

- summons the Warrior intent to kill everyone on Pandora so he can ‘civilise’ it

Tales from the Borderlands

- first thing he does is threaten to kill people

- second thing he does is to try and strangle Rhys

- everything following that is trying to manipulate Rhys into doing what he wants; he only cares about Rhys so far as he cares about his own continued existence (i mean he outright tries to kill Rhys as soon as he’s not in his cybernetics anymore)

- he actually becomes even more of a textbook abuser here, because he’s constantly trying to isolate Rhys from the others

- if Rhys trusts him, he’ll goad Athena into attacking Cassius, which he’s very excited about - and makes sense when you consider how she reacted to him killing Gladstone and those scientists on the possibility that one might be a traitor. he wants her to attack someone who had nothing to do with the order to kill her sister to make a hypocrite out of her

- nearly everything he says is a lie to manipulate Rhys; he never means a word of it and it’s always serving his own interests

- right up to the end he never accepts responsibility for his own heinous actions and is constantly pawning off blame and fault to others

and that’s not even nearly all of it. tl;dr, just cos a guy says he’s a hero, doesn’t mean he is one. actually, if someone has to point out what a great person they are all the time? that just means they’re full of shit

[hongkongdramas]

Flying Tiger

Firstly can I say how exciting this entire drama is... Okay I’m kinda late to the show but the final action scene was so damn crazy and intense! HOLY. 

I really really like how the story unfolded and how they link the sub-plots to the main plot. They even place one sub plot at the beginning followed by the main story and ended off with another small sub plot.

The first sub plot was sufficient enough to get me hooked. The Ko Yat Tai issue and how they made use of this sub plot to introduce the our main villain Lo Man La. And I have to say what an amazing actor Hugo Ng is. Like the moment he confronted Michael Miu’s character and having Ron Ng to arrest him. The emotions and his facial expression can’t deny how much effort he has put in to drive himself into the character. And that entire scene was so emotional. The 4 actors (Michael, Hugo, Bosco and Ron) in that particular scene did a terrific job. Look at how amazing the sub plot already is so do i really have to say how great the entire drama is...?! 

The main plot comes in when Long finally infiltrated the U384 and started working undercover. On a side note, I pity Ko Ka Long so much that he had to check up secretly on his mother immediately after finding her and also losing contact with everyone he loved just for his job as a police man. What a huge sacrifice. There were so many exciting stuff during the main plot that I don’t know which to talk about. It was just like a roller coaster ride throughout the entire drama. But I have to commend how great Oscar Leung was in delivering his character Kenny. Omg he did such an amazing job! The crazy and addicted-to-violence Kenny was so fun to watch when portrayed by Oscar. He is such a talented actor and I always remember him in Line Walker always standing with his legs shoulder-width apart with the metal tag in his mouth while he talk and shake his body like a gangster.. LOL so funny. Really like him here in Flying Tiger too. Anyway, throughout the main plot, I remember myself complaining how dumb and annoying Ko Ka Chun was. He is just some workaholic guy that keeps on trying to climb up the promotional ladder and prove how smart he is at doing things. But seriously?! All he does is to screw up so many things. Well, but I can’t blame him coz he doesn’t know that his bro is working undercover.... And also.. It was so weird that he fell for Ling Man Lok.. Did he actually like her?? Or is it that he pities her so he decided to lend his “love” to her...? 

Whichever the case, I wasn’t rooting for the Ron-Grace couple but LOL I find myself rooting so much for Bosco-Venus couple >< LOL I dunno...Well, I just find them damn cute... But it was so sad that there wasn’t much scenes with them coz Long was working undercover and Fei resigned from SDU following all the issues. But i was sad there wasn’t much scenes too even after the main plot. All there was were just that proposal scene in the ambulance and the chicken congee and the wedding... Meh.. saddddd.

The next sub plot was the part where they went against Red Wolf and trying to arrest Bun. Oh, I thought of one part which I didn’t enjoy much and that was the scene where they were discussing on all the stock market and economy thingy. Maybe people may find it necessary but I was kinda bored out at that part. I guess maybe it was just me not following what they were talking about coz it was confusing... It felt like the part in Fist Fight talking about stocks and blah blah.... ew. Anyway, the sub plot was still exciting but not as much as what has happened coz much of it was all the discussions on how to transfer fire arms, forcing bankers to help and planning operations blah blah. But I really like a few of the tiny lil’ scenes. It was really minor but to me, it delivered such a huge message. Firstly was the part where Chun’s mother slapped Long and after which reminded both of the brothers to take care of each other during the operation. Secondly was when Chun called Shuen and his mom to speak with them before he heads off for the operation. Thirdly was when Fei and Long dared each other on the operation and whoever wins will treat just before they head off to their respective vans for the operation. Lastly was the scene Fei reported to his Dad because his Dad wanted to tell her how much she means to him and she was his angel right before Fei goes off for the operation. Can we just appreciate how amazing and important family ties are. How strong the feeling of love can be where we just wish our loved ones would stay safe and come back in one piece. Gosh.. i really how these tiny scenes can be so impactful. 

The last wedding scene was okayyy I guess. (Even though I was taken aback at how fast the relationship between Chun and Shuen escalated.. It came just out of the blue imo...) BUT!  Where is Sis La?!?! She said she wanted to witness the wedding!!! She should at least make an appearance! Unless police doesn’t allow that... =((

All in all, one of the greatest HK action drama I’ve watched. (with a great ending... *hinting at Ruse of engagement...*) I literally watch like at least 1 episode everyday and can’t help myself to binge watch the last 5 in a day. Looking forward to part 2 even though I was sad to not be able see the entire of the original cast in 2. (Coz no Long and Fei =( ) 

[lilietsblog]

GHOST TRICK: THE BIG FINALE

so I finished the game yesterday all on my lonesome without internet

why yes I am perfectly fine and not emotionally compromised in the slightest

enjoy my screaming

IT'S GHOST TRICKING TIME which is to say it's ghost tricking time without internet so I'm doing this in wordpad tumblr really needs an 'import rtf' function >_>

SO from what I remember, when last we left off I was about to try to figure out how the fuck a knitted cap and a helmet are going to help me stop a bullet LET'S DIVE RIGHT BACK INTO THIS FOLKS

I still love how Sissel just ignores the dog's little 'WHATS A HOSTAGE O NO' instead of digging into explaining it

oh thank god the game DOES remember ive read this text before

...oh, I forgot how I did this the last time O WELL

all right, so I remember swiveling the lamp and dropping the hard hat, then when the knitted cap is over here I can swap it with the book and get it on the hook but how did I get the knitted cap over here

aha, he looked away for a moment, the helmet part is done what the fuck do i do now

AHA okay, so now i very quickly cart the ladder back and forth, I think I remember this

fuck, he noticed me, okay don't swivel the lamp while he's watching, swivel it while he's still looking away

I gotta note the 'I don't know why you're wearing my face' part HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

fuck, nope, I can't swivel the lamp back at that moment because he notices it clattering and turns right around FUCK OKAY LET'S TRY TO DO IT WITH THE LAMP THERE

ugh, if only I could do shit during the cutscene while he rolls away >_>

OK I SHOULD HAVE HAD MORE TRUST IN MISSILE HE IS GREAT AND A VERY GOOD DOG AND CAN AIM FOR SPLIT SECOND TIMING OF A BULLET BEING IN THE AIR OKAY

haha, and the knitted hat still hit Cabanela with enough velocity to knock him over I love this and I particularly love his dramatic leg up in the air he doesn't evne know what's happening he just aims to be the most dramatic possible at all times and it's really helping us out <3

'i love knitted hats... so warm, and most of all, so SOFT' <3 <3 <3

god Missile is so good this is pain IS THE DAWN DEADLINE A LIE MAYBE DID RAY JUST SAY THAT TO GET SISSEL'S BUTT MOVING I DON'T KNOW

oh yeah Cabanela's still got broken bones all over I kind of forgot about that

oh ok, looks less like broken and more like just really fucking bruised, becuase in that movement he's put pressure on all limb bones and nothing bent out of shape, so that's good

lmao and Cabanela's just like 'BUT IF I WAS KILLED IN THAT EXPLOSION THE SITUATION WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER' I I don't think it would necessarily work out that way, considering how much difficulty our protagonist was having saving just the professor :x

oh hey we've got our next source of information! should be quite a wellspring if Sissel remembers everything he should ask

yeeep Cabanela you FUCKED UP

oh, the gun :x

HON IM PRETTY SURE THE FIRST PART IS MORE IMPORTANT THE PART WHERE YOU TRIED TO SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF HIM CORNERED RATS BITE THIS IS COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY YOUR FAULT, ALL OF IT

aha, those cases, okay

and Cabanela was doing the thing because of Jowd that makes sense -_- kind of

yep, that one little snag kind of puts a question mark on the whole thing alright, that almost makes sense? kind of? makes Cabanela kind of a selfish butt doing this for his own obsession rather than for personally Jowd but makes sense

ok, the bringing him to justice minister to buy time thing actually does make a lot of sense it wasn't A LOT of time that he bought but it was just enough and that's what counts

oh hey, this guy used to have the job that the blue fake stole? (and yeah sounds like blue guys are just foreigners -_- bc they couldnt find spies that didnt stand out visually or anything)

hum not a scratch, huh regenerating dead body, okay

oh come ON Sissel don't be surprised now that part was obvious from the moment he said the corpse disappeared the meteorite's radiation, okay, quite interesting :D

"it was like a meteorite had struck me on the head" so, has that been a cause of death today yet, because if it hasn't, this looks like foreshadowing -_-

hum, so the gun would have been loaded because he controlled Kamila, which she then wouldn't have a clear memory of makes sense

HI LYNNE JUST IN TIME

arrest her to keep her safe, that actually makes perfect sense IF ONLY IT HAD WORKED LMAO no wonder pigeon guy roasted him for that in the deleted timeline XD

"while he was at it" <3 <3 <3

awwww pigeon guy was friends with him too <3

hee right on top of his striped jumpsuit honestly he looked less escaped-from-prison-ish in the paint-splattered robe thing XD

a present, huh?

awww see Sissel you don't feel lonely and that's what counts

ALRIGHT THEN :D LET'S FUCKING GO :D AND, UH, DO SOMETHING, I GUESS I love how out of proportion Sissel's powers are rewind time, talk to dead people... and move small objects a little

so, uh, Sissel, are you sure there's answers for YOU over there or did you just get into habit of telling this to yourself to feel better

okay well how the fuck did Jowd infiltrate a fucking SUBMARINE like, I just want to know the physics of how this happened?

omfg the bullet had a radio transmitter well, I have a newfound respect for Cabanela, I gotta admit like I already respected him but I just figured he shot the guy out of a desperate 'can't do anything else might as well try this' urge to do SOMETHING but nope he had a plan (which would have worked even with him dead)

wow, and he actually gave the thing to Jowd beforehand n i c e

wow, okay, that's stealthy

aha, and he can totally leave his body and wander around freely I think that was already confirmed but it's nice to know for even surer

wow, okay, what the fuck re: that thing reaching up from below that definitely looked like... something else for a moment there 0.0

aand okay the meteorite is possible to extract from his body I wonder if evil!Sissel actually knew that... or if that actually did anything to him :D

okay, what the FUCK and how many more people are dead now

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW MISSILE IS HERE TOOOOOOOO

the phone is ringing, how convenient :D

ooohkay this is tricky

so, why the fuck were there baseball and basketball balls hanging in nets under the ceiling on a submarine ... ... you know what I don't want to know

wait, Kamila can't hear him? oh, right, over the phone ghosts communicate by close range telepathy

aaand this makes the FIFTH time Lynne's dead tonight! or is it sixth? did i lose track somewhere?

AWWWW THIS SCENE IS LIKE AN OVERDOSE OF CUTE

'i wonder what happened THIS TIME' yep lmao

no actually 'i dont remember what happened after that' sounds like evil!Sissel to me, personally

but do you know what this wheel does Sissel are you sure turning it is a good idea

"I just sort of blacked out, the next thing I knew, I was dead" <3 <3 <3

"now it's all making even less sense than before" AND THAT'S SAYING *SOMETHING*

but actually okay yea this does kind of sound like an explosion that killed Lynne and knocked Kamila out

aaand nope I was absolutely correct )=

can this guy only puppet one body at a time? couldn't he have just possessed Lynne and had her slit her own throat or shoot herself or hang herself or something? that sounds a lot more productive than having a little girl fight her I mean, even if he only can puppet one body at a time, puppetting Lynne would have been a lot more productive overall, is there a reason he can't?...

or does he just love to do things in the most convoluted and roundabout manner typical to villains everywhere -_-

"nobody ever calls the dead" ARGUABLE a number of phone calls has been made this night specifically for the purpose of putting our!Sissel on the line

aand okay :D looks like the blue assholes saved Lynne just in time, sort of ...for a certain definition of 'saved'

so anyway this guy said something like 'you cannot possibly comprehend my suffering' so it would be funny if he was just a random dumbass that a bad thing hapened to one (1) time, which granted also killed him, but all the misery since then has been of his own making and he's put every single person involved in the events through worse just over the course of tonight, and simply has no sense of scale, perspective or proportion I think that would be great if the story went there XD EDITOR'S NOTE IN RETROSPECT: the story didn't go there and that was not fucking okay (it's dead women in the fridge again!)

and Sissel can't understand revenge as a concept SOUL TWINSIES WITH ME OR WHAT

lmao Lynne is starting to get touchy about how many times she's needed rescue lately XD

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE WHY CAN'T I REACH FOR ANYTHING YET also, interesting to note that in the 4 minutes ago past, neither Lynne nor Kamila have a core looks like Sissel's interaction with this realm is limited after all, and not only by phones there's v interesting existential fuckery going on here, of the exact sort I ABSOLUTELY LOVE

oh THERE we go 'nobody ever calls the dead' ARGUABLE again and I love Lynne's signature instant-snap-into-hands-over-head animation + pose Good Reflexes

ALRIGHT, FIDDLING WITH RANDOM SHIT WITHOUT KNOWING WHAT IT MIGHT DO TIME ...and that sure worked fast

hum, a random mechanic, alright

oh hon that's a, um, what's the opposite of exaggeration I know this word in Russian >_> over...littlification? that 'restless ghosts onboard' THAT'S ONE WAY TO PUT THAT

lmao that was one odd fate change

alright, found the temsik fragment capsule, I see yay unexpectedly strong wastebucket lids (seriously, that's a whole freaking basketball, there's a reason the nets worked like that lmao)

alright, just watching the cutscene for now, that's fair this guy sure looks like he's going to abandon his entire crew and blow up the sub or something

"farewell, sir" WELL THAT DID NOT SOUND QUITE RIGHT

alright, and we're left in the capsule rather than the fragment which apparently did not have a core of its own for some reason

OMFG THERE'S A LITTLE RAT IN THE TORPEDO ARE WE GOING TO HAVE A RUBE GOLDBERG MACHINE INVOLVING A SMALL RODENT AGAIN BECAUSE THOSE ARE THE BEST KIND BUT ALSO THIS IS NOT HOW TORPEDOS WORK BUT ALSO HI RAT!!!

yeah exactly thanks Sissel! how the FUCK did it get here also I love that the characters DO pay attention to the wellbeing of innocent rats in this game <3

well, you COULD just try to get it to blow up earlier, in the water you'd be stuck but you'd be heroes, or something well, Lynne would go back to her body, Sissel would be stuck :D oh, and the rat would die, that's the bad news

YEAH LET'S SAVE THE RATTIE FIRST if this time the rat is going to be in the way rather than helping, well, I REALLY DO RESPECT THAT LET'S SAVE THE RAT

alright, after some trial and error I DID manage to get both weights in the same position (mostly by luck) and throw off the rat NOW TO SAFETY

alright, this looks promising OKAY IT ALSO LOOKS LIKE KAMILA AND LYNNE MIGHT BE SAFE FROM EVIL!SISSEL NOW THAT'S GOOD NEWS

yusss caring about rats ftw <3

that's what missiles do, huh they're unstoppable i dont know who it is i hear there but Missile is great yes

well, whatever this is, our!Sissel just turned it on maybe it's pumps to remove water!... not that they'll do much against an unplugged breach but

aha, okay, won't move for long

this movement through a machine's gears feels like the purest expression of the game's premise since the junkyard tricks at the very beginning <3

the way Kamila's speech kinda fades in from white? that worries me

...eeeyup

god but I love this game's animation. this little one of Lynne hoisting Kamila up on her back? it feels, like, PERFECTLY balanced with their weights and Lynne's strength and everything <3 <3 <3

oh my god Lynne why couldn't you just... be able to swim not that it would help much with Kamila unconscious but

oh my god Lynne is literally right here why do I still have trouble moving around freely???

oh, found it!

wow, she's climbing one-handed while carrying Kamila, that's some serious upper body strength <3

W E L P

YEP THAT'S SOME SERIOUS STRENGTH THAT SHE DIDNT JUST FUCKING FALL NOR DROP KAMILA

yeeep okay WOW

ARE YOU BOTH GOING TO DIE NOW OR WHAT okay, no, just fall, and not even in the water that's good news

LYNNE THIS IS NOT A POSE YOU WANT TO BE IN RIGHT NOW unless you're actually holding yourself against that shit in the background with your left hand and I just can't see it I guess

...nope, she was holding her chin LYNNE NO

MISSILE HURRAY

okay, the fan thing makes sense

now to swap around a bunch of broken pipes so they don't get in lynne's way, got it

FOR FUCK'S SAKE I REALLY DON'T SEE A WINNING COMBO HERE

aand I fucking lost but at least I got Sissel in position -_-

alright, now with one pipe turned off it actually works out easily it just... took me really long to realize I'd need Sissel for this one -_-

Lynne honey but have you considered: you have no fucking clue what's behind that door although presumably submarine has only been breached in one place and it's this room?

holy shit with the hook Sissel managed to hoist the combined weight of Lynne and Kamila now THAT's a nifty trick

SISSEL FOR FUCK'S SAKE SHE CAN'T MUSTER LEVERAGE FOR THIS BECAUSE SHE HAS TO HOLD HERSELF AND KAMILA UP AND SHE'S TIRED SHE CAN ASK FOR HELP EXCLUSIVELY IN SWAHILI SWEARS AND IT'D STILL BE A WAY THAT YOU HAVE TO PUT UP WITH

aww, someone's saving us!!!

someone who commented on unstoppable missiles earlier, perhaps?

right, the truth... that's still relevant. while on a sinking submarine. yep

haha sinking submaries i have just been playing oxenfree haha

oh wow that's an improvised mechanism made out of garbage sticking in a close range telekinetic field nifty shit

oh oh okay that explains absolutely nothing evil!Sissel is not evil now, or what?

lmao this is getting more confusing, but like... in a very satisfying way <3

evil!Sissel still seems to have SOME amount of powers, at least, though possibly not the manipulating humans ones? but this amount of telekinesis is still incredible

so okay our Sissel's name possibly IS Sissel, but this dude's isn't I'm more confused than ever before I doubt there are three of them, so...

ahh, Lynne making Kamila more comfortable <3 <3 <3 and again, animation is fucking excellent. just, the timing of everything? it's better than 90% of all 3D animation I've ever seen in games

power and time, okay, got it so the dawn deadline IS real, just not for him wait, possibly not for Sissel and Missile, either?

I see he still fell in his signature ridiculous pose it's less funny now, overall

ah, okay, so the time effect is different too it seems to have been the same for Sissel and Missile though? is this a personality powers deal?

I love that Missile is perfectly comfortable with weird shit because as a dog, that's about the amount of understanding he has of his everyday surroundings, too <3

oh, hum so the moment this guy actually 'died' is the moment that blue guy took out the fragment?

wipe out everybody, huh

okay, so the shooting is as we knew, kind of

the first shot missed the mark, huh? quite curious, quite curious stray bullets are known to be deadly :D

alright, so that's a conversation that mostly confirmed what we already knew we have a new ally though, sort of

aand Lynne's empathy saves the day -_- like I said earlier, this guy's feelings aren't like... unique or anything, he just sucks at theory of mind

Kamila!!! so hey kiddo this guy in front of you is the guy who killed your mom

anyway, I'm still pretty sure Sissel hadn't yet introduced himself to you when you started calling him "Sissy" so there's that lead

and Kamila makes herself comfortable <3 I love this Little Lady so much <3

AWWWW THE RADIO THING <3 <3 <3

'and what about a torpedo' WHAT ABOUT A TORPEDO LYNNE THIS SOUNDS EXTREMELY UNSAFE

KAMILA ARE YOU KIDDING ME YOU'RE TOUGH AS FUCK

OMG IT'S A GRAPE SERVING MACHINE I LOVE THE LUXURIOUS FUCK THIS WAS MADE FOR

alright, torpedo room, that works

swap  the switches to get them unstuck!!!

so I'm going to guess everyone there died, too, and Sissel's going to have to prevent that, too that makes perfect sense

that 'understand exactly how he feels' thing our!Sissel and evil!Sissel are really fucking different in this particular respect :D

awww and the girls convince the doggo <3 <3 <3

so, does Kamila know about the dawn deadline for all ghosts, or

oh thank god I didn't need to control that hop this game really has a policy of not having a permaloss option <3

Yomiel, huh so that's his name

alright, and 'Sissel' is an alias ...I'm just going to keep using it for the protag, just to make things slightly less confusing

ah, so this guy had access to national secrets, and that's how he did the singer thing

and he was proven innocent offscreen <3 <3 <3 stylish

stylish animation, nice

didn't help anybody? did you ever try? because our!Sissel sure figured that shit out quickly

welp, the blue guys are assholes but then, they were also kind of dealing with an asshole I can imagine why they didn't think he was reliable to deal with :x

awww, I like the leaflet guy so much <3 <3 <3

I love how Jowd's like 'well, I'm dead, are you happy now' and Sissel's like 'so anyway about that' FUCK death not tonight, not when Sissel's here <3 <3 <3

alright, and this guy's a robot that still doesn't quite he's pretty human-like >_> I am not a fan of the blue guy in charge is all I'm saying also lmao I nicknamed this one 'iron man dracula' i didn't mean it that way but

ah, remote-controlled, alright that 'farewell' was odd then

'your country's use of technology is just plain off' I LOVE THIS

could there have been two pieces of meteorite in this guy's body? okay, nope still!

OH WOW FOUR MINUTES BEFORE HIS DEATH THAT'S THAT'S ACTUALLY EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED FROM THE VERY BEGINNING EVEN THOUGH I THOUGHT THIS BODY BELONGED TO THE WRONG 'WHOM' THIS IS SOMEWHAT MORE AMBITIOUS THAN PLANNED BUT

...okay, no, his 'death' would actually be before the control room was launched, not all those years ago STILL THIS IS THE -EXACT- THING

alright anyway this is plenty of buildup WHO THE FUCK IS OUR PROTAGONIST it's funny how so far absolutely 0 of what we've seen has pointed to that I have plenty of odd thoughts in my mind ofc 'that guy from another point of time' being the prime one as a homestuck, the possibility of there being multiple ghosts of the same person doesn't faze me in the slightest in fact it seems like an intuitive conclusion BUT THEIR PERSONALITY SURE IS DIFFERENT

anyway, :D :D :D

Final Chapter

...aha! so it counted ten years ago after all! dang :D

aha, I see that mascot thing I see baby Lynne!!!

I note how for someone threatening to shoot the kid, Yomiel's gun sure is pointing in the wrong direction AND he's holding out the kid to the side, not between himself and Jowd SOMEONE sucks at hostage taking lmao

a kitty, huh

and then a meteorite, okay

I note the lamp

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww Yomiel is thinking 'so maybe I'll die in another way and all this will have not happened, that's a better outcome anyway' isn't he god his faces are Sissel faces and look this game knows EXACTLY what it's doing with its visuals exactly one facial exression of Yomiel's has not matched Sissel's I doubt it's because of lazy artists

alright, so a good plan would be swapping the mascot and the lamp

but seriously, WOW Yomiel sucks at taking hostages this game's animation is always stellar and brilliant, there's NO fucking coincidence there he was absolutely not willing in any way to put baby Lynne in actual danger, even if he pretended he did and it worked on Jowd

anyway how the fuck do we get to the lamp

'we can talk about all this later' ARGUABLE TBH the entire, like, THING is going to change oh man is everyone going to go back to their bodies 10 years ago with their new memories because that's fucking hardcore was Kamila even BORN yet

augh I DONT KNOW I CANT REACH I THINK I CANT REACH ANYTHING WHAT DO I DO MISSILE IS IN THE SWEET POTATO ON THE FOUNTAIN SISSEL IS IN THE NOZZLE BUT NOT THE CENTRAL ONE AND CANT REACH THE CENTRAL ONE WHAT DO I DO

okay sounds like I missed my chance let's try that again

ghhhh okay I think I have figured this sequence out even though I have to rewind again 1) rock the basket 2) jump into nozzle to launch the potato 3) Sissel jumps into the potato and then from the potato to the central nozzle 4) Missile jumps into the potato 5) launch the potato x2

okay, Mino fell into the fountain, not that I know how this can help because AGAIN, Missile can't reach Mino from the lantern :x and Sissel can't do absolutely fucking anything

annd the finale is a cutscene alas

alright, let's try that again...

hum we didn't get a FATE CHANGE registered after dropping Mino might this mean we have to do something right in the process?

AW YEAH THAT DEFINITELY JUST HAPPENED LMAO

are we going to kill everyone by dropping Mino on them instead XD

trick time, huh Sissel still can't reach anywhere Missile can swap two identical lanterns, not that this does anything he can talk to Sissel, for what THAT's worth

aha, the lantern dropped, Missile can move around now, that's good

Sissel still can't do shit though

well, that's the detective's LEG, not... anything else or anything

oh man, yeah... YOUNG JOWD IS A DUMBASS man, even Yomiel isn't aiming at him anymore, he's like 'hey dude are you okay' so the theory that Sissel is alternate!Yomiel is really gaining steam in my head not that it wasn't the primary one all along but

AW FUCK YEAH MISSILE THE BULLET CATCHING BADASS DOGGO!!!

anyway sweet potato?

BOO YAH um or not

OR YES ACTUALLY THAT WORKS

OH MY FUCKING GOD YEP THE LAMPPOST FUCKING MINO

awwwwww and finally the trauma of remembering your death is brought up!!!! Sissel cares <3 <3 <3 (and Yomiel doesn't at the moment NOT THAT I CAN'T UNDERSTAND THAT IN CONTEXT) (then again I'd understand it if Sissel didn't either but he's the purest being in existence so)

awwww Yomiel is finally going to contribute!!!

omfg lmao "Make it spray as if your life depended on it!" "Uh, I'm dead though" Yomiel is winning ALL the sensitivity awards tonight <3 <3 <3

I I think that Yomiel hasn't done anything yet oh, okay, we're still winning time

holy FUCK Yomiel that was definitely a thing you just did

dear Young Jowd, Yomiel is the one who saved her. Not gods

awwww and he gave baby Lynne a detective's badge <3 <3 <3 he's so good with children <3

so, can Yomiel be alive please :x ALRIGHT, HE IS THAT WORKS

THE KITTY DID THE METEORITE KILL THE KITTY

wait wait wait is is Sissel the kitty is that why he has no idea how guns work or anything else like that that that is truly fucking incredible f y'all's i AND I GUESS IT FITS WITH HIM AND MISSILE JUST GOING AROUND SAVING PEOPLE TOGETHER LIKE A BADASS DUO AND IT FITS WITH HIM GETTING KILLED BY LYNNE'S FIRST SHOT ON ACCIDENT I HONESTLY CONSIDERED A RAT OPTION FOR LIKE A SPLIT SECOND THERE

OMG OMG OMG OMG YE S AND HIS NAME REALLY IS SISSEL

god jesus fucking christ this this fucking game i just im howling this this definitely is a thing that just happened it owned me so hard im so fucking owned right now

yep hes the cat he's Yomiel's cat

aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwww there's a good reason he had identity confusion in all this they WERE confusable as one being for a while

'her' huh?

oh man wow THIS particular part of the story sucks

so Sissel was a girl's name all along? okay

but also, FUCK no wonder he went bonkers specifically about being unable to die

'his powers couldnt help anybody' more like they couldn't help ONE SPECIFIC PERSON

so that bag is a kitty carrier huh and Lynne's miss accidentally killed the kitty

LMAO THE PART WHERE WE ALL THOUGHT LYNNE HAD KILLED THE PROTAG WASN'T WRONG

I DAMN FUCKING REMEMBER THAT CAT JUST FOR YALLS I I ABSOLUTELY REMEMBERED THERE WAS A CAT THERE I JUST NEVER LINKED IT TO ANYTHING I JUST THOUGHT IT WAS A VERY PRETTY RANDOM STRAY

anyway Yomiel that's what you get for playing with guns they're deadly weapons and result in death you're fucking welcome

so anyway who the fuck is Ray

but anyway kitty Sissel saved everyone...

okay but hold on hold on hold on I didn't quite get the implications about the fiancee the first time around WHAT THE FUCK CAPCOM i was just recently thinking how fucked up it was that I remembered the last name of Polly Jenkins, just because of how much her brief story shook me

and uh I think is that also the implication here because that's not fucking okay

anyway so did Yomiel die as the result of that or nay bc that looked fucking deadly if not instantaneously so

god but this ffucking game

this fucking... game

oh Missile I'm pretty sure YOU are going to see HIM alright lmao wasn't Jowd taking him home

but also damn the original events of these ten years, as remembered by - a dog and a cat - Detective Jowd and Kamila (but not Alma, who never was brought back to life directly) - Lynne - Cabanela - the medical examiner - the minister of justice AND NO-ONE ELSE ...wait, no ALSO THE GUY FROM THE FUCKING PARK ...yep that's a thing we're doing

so another important thing is that the rock star kid is going to be okay and the curry guy, too nothing bad happened to them in this timeline, right?

ALRIGHT HI RAY WHAT/WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU

(right now my bet's on 'a rat')

oh, Sissel also killed two people tonight, that happened

lmao and in this version of evens Missile died in the presence of Temsik

omfg and Ray is alternate!Missile this is fucking amazing <3

lmao his ghost aged and lost its powers?

also the dawn deadline was a lie he just wanted to get Sissel's butt moving I FUCKING KNEW IT

I love how Sissel's just "I DID WHAT" even though he's been doing that all evening this time around too

yup doggie's a fucking liar the only real time limit is the lifetime they would have had if they were alive huh damn

but seriously I called that before I started this section of the liveblog even if I think I never actually made that post 'what are the odds Ray is a fucking liar' I don't think I ever wrote that I kept getting distracted but yep I fucking called this

THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART GOD I AM ;U; THIS DOGGO

anyway one participant of the events who definitely wasn't born yet 10 years ago is indeed Missile 0.0 how's that... gonna work...

but I do love that just... the justice minister, of all people, is also going to be in possession of those 10 years

OH MY FUCKING GOD LYNNE IS ABOUT TO HAVE A FUCKING HEART ATTACK I KNOW THERE'S NO GUN BUT JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

KAMILA WHAT THE FUCK DON'T FUCKING DO THAT THAT'S ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING

aawwwwwww IT WORKED THIS TIME AROUND

'nice to meet you' OH BOY OH BOY I GET HOW IT WORKS NOW I THINK ...uh, I'm not sure how Lynne knew to flee from the junkyard then, but either way it looks like they're only getting back their memories at the PRESENT and that's why Kamila didn't fUCKING KNOW AND REMEMBER WHAT THE FUCK WAS WRONG WITH DOING THAT JUST NOW

LMAO SOMETHING'S GOING TO EXPLODE TONIGHT

oh, nevermind, it's not that yet :D but it really does sound like it's going to :D right... about... dawn? :D

aww Jowd actually carries toy badges with him everywhere <3 <3 <3 'child handling tools'

still a kitten, huh yeah, that whole Temsik thing :D

aww, and here's her, all alive and everything

SO BIG MEMORYSPLOSION PLEASE

(at dawn) (it's fucking coming that's my headcanon and you can't beat it) (a bunch of people are going to become really fucking traumatized tonight)

hey!!! Missile!!! Cabanela brought him, huh

so, what's up with Yomiel, anyway

COME ON SISSEL MAKE NICE WITH MISSILE HE CAN'T CLIMB UP THERE

that guy's imitating Cabanela lmao

Memry <3 <3 <3

very best customer, huh

AWWW ITS THIS GUY HI GUY YOU'RE OKAY NOW WITHOUT YOMIEL TO RUIN EVERYTHING YOU'RE JUST FINE

hah, and these two

.............................................yup. they died

'the indescretions of a minister perhaps?' I LOVE THIS FUCKING LADY I LOVE HER I LOVE HER

ah, these two what deal is it this time

the little rock sinter guy!!! yeah!!!!

hi medical examiner guy <3 guess you're not doing medicine after all huh

HI LEAFLET PARK GUY YOU ARE STILL CUTE

HI BAILEY

oh man oh man Yomiel :D hey are talking about Yomiel :D

SHOW ME HIS FIANCEE YOU COWARDS

lmao he's the painter this time even the robe sits the same

SO SHOW ME

OH YEAH OH YEAH HE REMEMBERS THATS THE PICTURE OF THE FUCKING CAT AND NO MISTAKE ABOUT IT

YUP YUP THIS IS IT lmao that crane i sure do remember it well it murdered two people tonight <3 <3 <3 kitty <3 <3 <3

aw yeah! in that picture with Missile!!!

[funneltops]

Dotcom Secrets PDF

If you intend to be listened to in this loud advertising and marketing room, you require to understand how to market your organization online.

You can not just assembled some poo-roo stuff and afterwards call it a day, intending to get outstanding results. No, it will never work like that.

What you require to do instead is to understand the important abilities required to be successful in internet marketing.

And there's no far better way to learn these skills than from Russell Brunson, that have grasped the art and scientific research of marketing online, running effective businesses online. Learning from him would save you countless hrs and also reduce the massive understanding curves, especially when you're just getting started.

In this DotCom Secrets PDF evaluation, I'm mosting likely to take an extensive take a look at the book. And show you why you need to read this book for your organization. What's The DotCom Secrets PDF? The DotCom Secrets book is a thorough 254-pages advertising book written and also released by Russell Brunson in 2015.

This ClickFunnels complimentary book includes 28 unidentified Secrets to grow any kind of company or firm online using the power of the sales funnel.

It reveals just how leading on-line marketing experts generate leads and also converts those customers into high-paying customers.

And instructs you exactly how to use the same concepts, strategies, and techniques to your business to come to be unstoppable online.

The first edition along with the second DotCom Secrets Version has marketed over 200,000+ duplicates worldwide. And also still revealing no indication of decreasing anytime.

Russell Brunson DotCom Secrets PDF is used in both book and paper copy editions.

Likewise, the DotCom Secrets Audiobook version is readily available too.

Who is the Author Behind DotCom Secrets Schedule (PDF)? This informative book was composed by the effective business owner, Russell Brunson.

DotCom Secrets Russel Brunson Book PDF He's a leading sales channel specialist and best called the Co-founder of ClickFunnels software application.

Aside From DotCom Secrets book, he's likewise the writer behind 3 preferred ClickFunnels books, which are "Professional Secrets", "Website traffic Secrets" and "Network Marketing Secrets".

Leveraging Russell's know-how, Secrets and also approaches will certainly furnish you with the tried and tested knowledge needed to begin a new service online or expand an existing service greatly.

Who Should Read This ClickFunnels Book? The DotCom Secrets publication PDF is for every person that wants to begin and also expand their organizations to the highest degree.

The advertising and marketing Secrets discussed in DotCom Secrets PDF will certainly aid develop your service to acquire more exposure, higher return on investment (ROI), as well as make bigger impacts online.

The DotCom Secrets publication will help you accomplish that by making use of channel strategies that work if your objective is to produce leads and also make even more sales from your organization.

Literally, it matters not which type of organization you're involved in online.

You'll certainly have an innovation by adhering to the funnel approaches educated in this DotCom Secrets the below ground playbook PDF.

Further Reading: 5 Incredible ClickFunnels Books To Help You End Up Being A Better Online Marketing Professional In 2020

A Review Look Inside DotCom Secrets PDF DotCom Secrets book comes with 5 different areas that walk you through the advertising strategies shared inside guide.

And also each particular area has its sub-sections, breakdown into various Secrets that makes DotCom Secrets book less complicated to digest and read.

Section 1-- Ladders and Funnels: This is the initial area from the book which features 5 various advertising and marketing secrets.

Russell Brunson begins with the intro of the secrets formula and also the relevance of value ladder, the principle of visualizing your offers and also solutions, as well as knowing which items to offer your audience or clients.

He then discusses recognizing your desire consumers, where they are, and just how finest to get their attention and also be drawn in to your advertising and marketing deals.

Section 2-- Your Communication Funnels: This second section is classified right into 3 Secrets which are: the Appealing Character, Soap Opera Sequences, and the Seinfeld Sequence.

Russel efficiently discusses constructing your target market using individual branding methods to hook and get them interested adequate to acquire what you're supplying them.

Advanced approaches to connect well with your desire clients are touched upon in this area to give the right messages at every stage of your sales channel.

I tell you, it teems with gold nuggets ...

Section 3: Funnelology This section talked about carefully the actions as well as principles to develop tried and tested advertising funnels, as well as how to guarantee your funnels do not flop.

Russell additionally pointed out in this area that you do not have to construct funnels from the ground up even if you're a beginner.

What you can do to fast lane your channel structure process is to leverage the experience of successful marketing experts in your specific niche.

Possibilities are some influencers might have developed successful funnels for their company and it makes best feeling to design your own after them. He took place to produce a Funnel Hacking System to show this approach comprehensive.

An additional easy essential he touched upon is reverse design your competitor's funnels to ensure that you can see the technicalities and fill the void in your funnel.

Plus, you also find out about the structure and also phases of funnels, ideal lures, when as well as exactly how to apply them to your channel campaigns.

Section 4: Manuscripts as well as funnels: I so damn like this area! This is where you require to pay attention to Russell, as it's a bit different from various other sections discussed in the DotCom Secrets publication (PDF).

Russel Brunson dives deeper as well as discloses all advertising Secrets as well as core funnels behind every one of his businesses as well as business.

He even reveals you all the sales script he uses and uses to offer his items and also offers to hundreds of thousands of clients online.

To fully understand his funnels approaches, he broke them down right into 3 groups which are Frontend, Center, as well as Backend Funnels.

Oh, as well as he shows you detailed (empty themes that you can customize) how all of these funnels and manuscripts can be quickly connected into ClickFunnels software program.

Section 5: Clickfunnels: In the last chapter of DotCom Secrets PDF, Russell presented using ClickFunnels as a device to develop practical sales funnel that issues to your service.

His training and tactics can be made use of on any type of channel structure software program out there.

Nevertheless, ClickFunnels 60 days trial remains the best advertising channel platform to develop out your vital channel pages.

This area notes completion of the DotCom Secrets publication PDF.

Prices-- Just How Much Does DotCom Secrets PDF Cost? Russell Brunson provided DotCom Secrets as a Free-plus shipping book on his web site.

To receive and also have your paper copy of this cost-free ClickFunnels publication, all you've to do is to cover the shipping charge which is $9.95 if you get from the United States and also $19.95 if you order internationally.

As I've pointed out previously, Russell Brunson's DotCom Secrets PDF is likewise offered in an audio variation.

If paying attention to an audio version of a book while doing some other core tasks resonates with you, there's a choice to include the audio version to your order and offers you possibility to begin paying attention today.

DotCom Secrets Summary PDF The simple goal of DotCom Secrets publication is to help companies sell their things online making use of proven and unique techniques.

And one particular strategy being utilized is through building advertising and marketing funnels that produce sales and also leads constantly.

If you intend to be ahead of your rivals beating them at every campaign results, after that start constructing funnels for your company.

Yes, the sales channel makes offering a wind online. If you do it the wrong means, you're not gon na accomplish worthwhile outcomes from your service.

If you apply funnel methods as well as advertising Secrets pointed out inside DotCom Secrets PDF to your organization, you'll be able to construct a growing organization online that stands the examination of time.

Conclusion DotCom Secrets is the most effective sales channel publication and also marketing overview I've ever before reviewed since the start of my journey with an online business.

I discovered lots of goosebumps and also aided transform the method I do marketing online to this very day ...

All the gold nuggets and techniques shared inside the DotCom Secrets book are essential Secrets every business needs to endure.

Nevertheless, let me make it clear to you right here, there's no such publication as a cost-free DotCom Secrets PDF.

It seeks you pay delivery fees of $9.95 for United States or $19.95 for international, would you have the ability to have the option to download and install the DotCom Secrets book pdf version.

Honestly, the price of delivery fees worth every cent when you compare the enormous worths DotCom Secrets publication gives the table for your service.

Let me ask you, are you pumped and also ready to take your organization to the following degree while making bigger influences online?

[gumnut-logic]

Three

Title: Three Part Three of Il Mago Sequel to Sotto Voce Author: Gumnut 18 Sep 2018 Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS Rating: Teen Summary: “How can we trust him, if we don’t even know he is Virgil?” Word count: 3267 Spoilers & warnings: Spoilers for Season 2 and Sotto Voce Author’s note: Wow, the whole part in one day...well, two minutes shy of midnight :D Many, many thanks for all those who have commented and liked, you are wonderful. I hope the fic lives up to your expectations. Things happen in this part :D I hope enjoy them :D Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

“Thunderbird One, return to base immediately.”

“John, what?”

“Scott, Thunderbird Two is down.” John’s voice was uncharacteristically tense. “We need you here. I’ve alerted the Guatemalan authorities. Please return to Tracy Island immediately.”

His brother sent a recording, and as Scott spun his ‘bird around, his stomach knotted up.

Gordon and Alan.

He hit his boosters and tore across the Pacific.

It took minutes, seemed like years, and he was on approach. He skipped the pool and took her into land beside her wounded sister.

His brother’s ‘bird was jammed up against the mountain cliff, smoke streaming off her thrusters, brush fire out of control all around her. A pod was clambering over downed palm trees spraying fire retardant foam, he assumed it was Virgil, his brother clearing a path to his ship.

As soon as TB1 was down, he grabbed his own stock of firefighting equipment and hit the tarmac running.

“Anything from Gordon and Alan?”

John. “Nothing. But I’m getting no ping from Thunderbird Two’s comm system, so it is likely down. I’ve tried a direct link to their comms via TB5, but still no response.”

“Any idea what happened?”

Virgil, breathing heavily. “Other than a thruster misfire, I’ve no idea. Eos and I cleaned out both thrusters just yesterday. They were performing perfectly this afternoon. Eos ran an inflight performance check over the Indian Ocean. There were no indications of any issues.” A grunt and the pod hatch opened. “I’m going in through her top hatch.” Virgil, dressed in his grey fire suit clambered out of the pod, and shot a grappling line, hooking it in TB2’s tail plane. With a leap he flung himself onto her starboard jet engine, pulling himself onto her flank.

Scott sprayed a dampening line along the track his brother had already made, and secured the pod. “John, can you get some water bots out here to take care of the rest of this brushfire. I’ll take care of TB2.”

“FAB.”

Scott sprayed foam liberally down the length of TB2, killing off the fire licking the crippled ship.

Another grunt over the comms and Virgil was standing on top of his ‘bird. Scott could just see his head.

“Alan!”

Virgil’s surprised and relieved shout had Scott climbing the pod to get a better view. Sure enough, there was his youngest brother…lugging an unconscious Gordon from the open hatchway.

Virgil reached down to help.

Alan flung out an arm and shoved. “Get away from him!”

The engineer stumbled in shock, and Scott was moving. His own grapple line wrapped around TB2’s tail plane and he was climbing.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?!”

There was no answer from Virgil.

Scott threw himself onto TB2’s roof. Alan was crouched over Gordon checking his vitals. Virgil stood motionless a few steps away.

Damn you, Alan.

“Virgil, secure Thunderbird Two.”

A whispered FAB and Virgil turned and climbed into the hatchway. The machinery hesitated a moment before lowering her pilot into the dark.

Scott grit his teeth and turned to Alan.

“Report.”

“Gordon hit his head when we fell. He was strapped in, but we hit the ground pretty hard. I think it was an impact with his headrest.” Alan drew in a breath and started coughing. “H-had to get him out.” Smoke was still drifting from the cockpit hatch.

Scott activated TB1’s remote and across the runway, his ‘bird fired up. “We’ll evac to the villa.” TB1’s VTOL fired, her landing gear retracted, and she moved to a hover above them. Scott deployed her external ladder, taking a moment to jump on board and grab a hover stretcher for his unconscious brother. Together, he and Alan moved Gordon to the stretcher and dragged him aboard Thunderbird One.

“Status, Virgil?”

“She’s not good. I’m reading a fluctuation in the starboard thruster. There is a lot of unburned fuel pooled in her intake. I’m going to have to evacuate it manually. She’s a fire hazard.”

“I’ll send Brains and John out here to help. Need to evac Gordon and Alan to the infirmary. You safe for the moment?”

“I’m good.”

“Keep me updated.”

“FAB.”

Retracting her ladder, Scott pushed TB1 into the sky and back to the villa.

-o-o-o-

There was no comforting evening meal that night. No gathering in the lounge. Virgil spent a good part of the night securing his ‘bird so she wouldn’t spontaneously combust. Both Brains and John wrapped themselves in fire wear and joined him, the runway lit by portable lighting as the sun finally dropped below the horizon.

Scott stayed with Gordon until he woke up. He was subdued and in pain with a throbbing headache, but only had a minor concussion. Both Gordon and Alan were suffering from some smoke inhalation, something which also aggravated Gordon’s headache to give him a little extra misery.

John and Scott dragged Virgil back to the villa at about two in the morning, his protests loud and numerous.

“She’s stable, Virgil. You’ve drained the fuel; the fires are out. She will be fine until morning.” John’s voice was calm and factual.

“But-“

“C’mon, Virg, it has been a shitty day. I’m sick of it. Let’s put an end to it.” Scott was damned tired as well. He still had a hand on his reluctant brother’s arm, and he dragged him to the comms room and pushed him towards the lounge. John followed and made a beeline for Dad’s desk.

Scott sighed and backtracked to the kitchen. He grabbed some leftover pizza and threw it in the microwave. Ten minutes later he returned to the lounge and dumped a plate of supreme in front of both Virgil and John. “Eat. Bodies need fuel to function.”

He dumped himself on to the lounge beside Virgil and ate his dinner.

Fifteen minutes later, Scott’s pizza was gone, Virgil had eaten two mouthfuls and John hadn’t even realised the food was there.

John was muttering to himself.

Virgil was staring into space.

Scott ran a hand over his face. “Is she okay?”

Virgil didn’t respond.

“Virgil?” Scott nudged him.

“Huh? What?”

“She okay?”

“Eos?” Scott nodded. “Still pissed at me, but the current situation overrides that. She’s running diagnostics on Thunderbird Two.”

“Anything?”

“Not a thing. She’s on her fifth cycle. Nothing. That thruster should have fired.”

Scott looked over his shoulder. “You have anything, John?”

His brother’s response was a negative grunt.

He turned back to Virgil and found him staring into space again.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m calling it a night.”

Neither responded.

Scott sighed and headed off to check on his youngest two brothers before a shower and bed.

-o-o-o-

“Found it!”

Virgil started out of a deep sleep. His face was mashed into something padded but hard and his neck was jammed at an awkward angle. Drool was sticky on one side of his face. Ugh

“Virgil. I found it. It’s smart, but not smart enough.” John? Huh?

We’ve found traces of an electronic intruder.

What?

Virgil, boot up. We found it.

Found what?

Oh, you are so painful first thing in the morning. Get yourself some coffee and then maybe we can have a constructive conversation.

Huh?

She prodded him and he shot up on the lounge. “Augh, god. Eos.” His head spun, his neck, back and pretty much everything complaining about sleeping slumped over on the couch. He let his head drop back over the top of the lounge and stretched his shoulders. He raised his arm to check the time. “Six am?!” What the hell? He’d be lucky if he had had three hours sleep.

He tipped sideways again and tried to get comfortable on the too small couch.

Virgil!

Go-way.

Virgil, get up.

No.

There was silence for a moment, then his mind was suddenly filled with Beethoven’s fifth symphony – the disco version.

Wha-? Augh! He ground his hands into his eye sockets. Anger flared. “Turn it off! Now!”

Wake up!

No!

Yes!

“No! I’m sleeping!”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“Am.”

“Not.”

“Go-way.”

“Can’t”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Haveta.”

“Tired.”

“Sleep later, party now.”

“Don wanna party.”

“There will be cake…”

“Cake?”

“With cream.”

“Cream.”

“Chocolate and strawberries.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yes, it does. Want some?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then get out of bed.”

“Okay.” He pushed himself vertical and it wasn’t until he opened his eyes to see a frankly stunned Scott Tracy paused mid-step halfway into the sunken lounge that his sleep fogged brain caught up.

“Wow, Eos, you’re a master. I gotta try that one next time.”

“Oh, god.” He fell over sideways again.

Beethoven upped his sub-woofer.

“Okay, okay, okay.” He struggled into a seated position again. “Turn that damn noise off.” Elbows on his knees he dropped his head into his hands. “This time of day should not exist.”

“It’s that whole physics thing.”

“Shut up and give me coffee.”

A deliciously warm mug was pushed into his hands and he inhaled its wonderful aroma before letting its scalding hot, life-giving energy infuse his system. Ohhhh, so good.

You alive yet?

Shut up.

I’m choosing to not take that personally.

Good. I don’t have the energy for personally yet.

You are ridiculous.

On occasion.

“So why am I awake at this god-awful time of day?”

Scott was sitting next to him on the couch. “John has found traces of someone in our system.”

Virgil looked over at his brother, still sitting at Dad’s desk. “Did he go to bed last night?”

“Did you?”

“Point made.”

You really do suffer from extended dopey.

He ignored her. “So what do we know?”

John spoke up. “Not much, but I do know that there was an intruder in our system at 1.12pm yesterday and again at 5.33pm last night.”

“Scott’s elevator and Thunderbird Two.”

“Yes.” He stood up. “Only the barest traces were present – I missed them on the first three scans. Whoever it is, they are very good at what they do.” John sighed. “I need to return to Thunderbird Five, both to cast a better net and to set up further defences. Eos is working on countermeasures in the meantime.” Walking past Scott, John stole his coffee, downed it in one long gulp, handed it back, and headed off to his space elevator.

Scott stared down at his mug in resignation.

“So Alan was right. Security has been compromised.” He didn’t want to think about what that meant for him. Perhaps it had been him after all.

No-one will get to you, I promise.

Eos.

No-one.

He sighed. “God, this sucks.”

“Virgil.”

“I’ve got a Thunderbird to repair.” He put his mug on the table and left for the hangers.

-o-o-o-

Scott stared after him for a while, his thoughts whirling around inside his head. He was sick to death of feeling so powerless. There was very little he could do to help Virgil other than be there for him. So frustrating. His fists clenched.

Of course, that was the moment Alan chose to walk into the room.

Well, that was one thing he could set straight.

“We need to talk.”

There was immediately steel in his brother’s blue eyes, but he nodded once and sat down on the lounge furthest from Scott. He looked at the floor, his lips pressed firmly together.

“How are you feeling?”

Alan looked up as if surprised. “Okay.” His throat was obviously still a little dry as his voice had just a touch of hoarse.

“Good.” He swallowed. “I want to make something perfectly clear. I am well aware of the security risks, the multiple security risks, Virgil currently presents to International Rescue and our family. If you think John and Brains weren’t able to identify these issues as soon as the nature of the device in Virgil’s head presented itself, I need to question your belief in all of us, not just Virgil.” He drew in a breath. “We have been unable to find an immediate solution to the multiple issues other than the use of the isolator, which would see an end to Virgil’s participation in IR. Nor do we know the effects of its extended use. Our first priority has been Virgil’s health, mental and physical.”

Alan appeared to find the floor very interesting.

“So your concerns have been noted. As a solution has yet to present itself and you haven’t lifted a finger to help on any front. Yes, I know you have been avoiding him. Great one, Alan. A member of our family takes a life-threatening hit and you ignore him why he is down. Worse, without thought you then proceed to kick him.” Scott glared. “Yesterday, Alan, yesterday I truly thought you were that last straw. I thought he had climbed to the round house to solve all our problems by removing himself from the equation. Virgil is not an idiot, he can do the math as well, if not better than you, and nothing, NOTHING, is more important to your brother than the safety and care of this family. Including his own life. Think about it, Alan.”

“If you feel the need to accuse your brother in the future, I would appreciate it if you came to me or John first and present your facts in a logical and well thought out manner, minus the snark and immaturity. Also, professional conduct at the minimum is a requirement. You are not a kid any more, stop acting like one.”

Scott sighed. “This isn’t easy for anyone. Please don’t make it any harder.”

His youngest brother looked up at him. “So in the meantime we just have to hope that Virgil doesn’t turn into some kind of murdering zombie and kill us all in our sleep?”

“What do you expect me to do?!”

“Get him off the island!”

“He’s our brother!”

“I know!”

“So the first sign of trouble and you want to just cast him off?”

“We could have been killed yesterday!”

“Virgil didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Virgil would never-“

“But he’s not Virgil!”

“HEY!” Gordon stood outside the sunken lounge. “What the hell?”

Scott was trembling just slightly and his heart was racing. Alan was red in the face.

“No-one, I repeat, no-one is abandoning Virgil anywhere. I don’t care about the risks. We owe him our support and protection.” Gordon’s glare narrowed in on Alan. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather die by my brother’s involuntary hand, than contribute to his death. How would you like to be abandoned on the mainland, on your own, with that thing in your head, your only protection a gadget that cuts you off from all technology? Such fun to be had.” He turned to Scott. “And you, share the knowledge, bro. Alan might not have been so stupid if he knew we had it all in hand.” A breath. “And you know what is worst? I’m apparently turning into Virgil. Shut up, both of you, and give my poor head a break.” And he turned around muttering and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen.

Alan took one look at Scott, stood up and left, back stiff.

Scott sagged and let his head drop into his hands.

Damn.

-o-o-o-

John entered Thunderbird Five and let out a long relaxing breath. Oh, it was good to be home.

“Welcome home, John.”

“It is great to be here.” He let himself float for just a moment, revelling in the lack of gravity. “How goes the new countermeasures.”

“I’ve created new tracking software using what little we know about the perpetrator. If it gets in again, we may be able to trace it back to its origin. I’ve reinforced every pathway I can think of. I still haven’t determined how it got in or where, so I have done my best to cover all contingencies.”

“What about Virgil?”

“I have created a remote trigger that can deploy his isolator on command. It will separate him from the network should there be an intrusion.”

“Automatically?”

Eos hesitated. “Yes.”

“I know you hate that device. So do I, but it is his last defence.”

“I know.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m protected.”

“How?”

“Do you really expect me to tell you all my secrets?” Her tone was playful, but had an echo of serious.

“I expect you to be safe.”

“I will do my best.”

“Well, excuse me if I add a few defences of my own.” A small smile. “Call it parental prerogative.”

“If I had eyes, I would roll them at you.”

“I can see Virgil has had some influence on you.”

“Aren’t you glad that he is such a good one.”

John smirked. “That remains to be seen.”

“Is this where I say, ‘Daaaaad!’”

“Only if you want to prove my point.” He grinned. “But we should focus. Give me a read out on activity in E sector.”

They worked together smoothly for several hours. John had to admit that Eos had changed over the last few months. Many of her hard edges had been smoothed over. Her understanding of human nature had expanded dramatically, of course, learning the hard way, no doubt. She had grown, almost blossomed, her confidence expanding far beyond the terrified and persecuted soul she had been when they first met.

“John, I think I have identified another intrusion.” Eos was worried, he could hear it in her voice.

“Show me.”

Code flashed up. “Yesterday?”

“5.08pm. But this one is different. The code is more fragmented, which is why we missed it.”

5.08 yesterday afternoon. “What time did Virgil faint?” Shit. “Give me everything you’ve got.”

Eos flung the code onto his display. He scanned it. “Give me that last readout again.” John frowned. “That variable has changed from the last time I scanned this sector.”

“Investigating.” The code rippled. ”Uh, John?”

Something in her tone set of alarm bells. “Eos?”

“It doesn’t feel righ-“

“Eos?” No answer. “Eos?!”

-o-o-o-

Thunderbird Two’s cockpit smelt bad and Scott could feel the shuddering in the hatch mechanism as it lowered him to the floor. It hurt to see his brother’s ‘bird in this state. He may tease Virgil about his ‘big, green brick with wings’, but he secretly loved the security of the smooth machine at his back.

“Virgil?”

“Back here.”

The cockpit door was open so he stuck his head through to find Virgil sitting on the deck surrounded by pieces of disassembled Thunderbird. “She’s blown out all her primary circuit breakers. My guess is that is how Alan shut down her thruster, by killing them all. They are going to need to be replaced.” He sighed. “Just another thing to add to the list.” He clambered up off the floor and walked back into the cockpit, heading directly for the pilot’s dash. “Starboard thruster will need a complete overhaul, port side wing has been damaged, along with one of her VTOL engines and her landing gear is toast. She fell hard. We’ll have to go over her structural integrity with a fine-toothed comb. Don’t let me get started on her paintwork.”

Virgil looked back at him. “It is going to take a while.”

“But she will fly again.”

“While I’m alive, she will always fly.”

Scott snorted. “Way to be dramatic, Virg.”

“She lives for the drama.”

“O-okay.”

Virgil grinned at him. It was so off beat to the damage around them, Scott couldn’t help but grin back.

But his brother frowned, the grin dropping away. “Eos? Wha-?”

“V-“

Staring at Scott in surprise, Virgil collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

-o-o-o-

End Part Three

Part Four