#my work contract is a fixed term one

[yieldtotemptation]

DEALS ft. Miyeon

... is this thing on?

written as a very late addition to @i-am-lifeform24's project.

miyeon x male reader smut

2k words

"Now that you're done with that," Miyeon starts, her voice firm, confident. The voice of someone used to giving you orders. "Take off your clothes."

The command hangs in the air between the two of you, and suddenly you’re under a microscope—but where most people would squirm, you stand tall.

"Okay."

"Okay?" If she was expecting a challenge, she wasn't going to find one here. After all this time, you know what she's looking for—what she expects from you—someone that can match her, that can meet her on her level. "No questions?"

"That is the deal," you answer matter-of-factly, your t-shirt already half-way over your head. "Money for my time, anything goes."

"Anything," she echoes, her usual stone-cold expression betrayed by a hint of excitement playing in her eyes, somewhat surprised that she managed to push the terms of a contract once made between two teenagers who didn't know any better into new territory.

Anything used to just mean silly tasks—cooking, cleaning, doing all the things that would absolutely not be suitable for her to do—but all just being an excuse for keeping Miyeon company.

That was until now.

Still, you don't have time to think about what’s changed between you fixing her sink and her watching you take off your pants—she’s decided that now is as appropriate an occasion as any to test your limits, and you’ve never been known not to oblige her.

It's only when you're stepping out of your briefs that you catch it—that break in her facade, the slight blush that creeps up her cheeks, that indication that maybe Miyeon isn't so far above the rest of Earth's mortals as she would like you to think.

"Having trouble finding somewhere to look?" You can feel her eyes following you, scanning up and down your body as you fold your clothes neatly, placing them on a corner of the nearby couch.

"The opposite." Whatever crack you just saw in Miyeon's composure is gone as quick as it arrived, and she's all business again, walking over to you, heels that let her meet your eyes clicking against the cold living room floor. "I don't have anywhere I don't want to look."

It's no secret that you feel the same—she's an absolute work of art. It's in the sway of her hips, the curve of her waist, the swell of her lovely, petite breasts under her sheer, near see-through shirt. But you're not here to just admire her. You're here to serve, to satisfy, to be of use.

She stops, close enough that her exhales become your inhales, close enough that the smell of whatever she's wearing—something smoky, something ludicrously expensive—drives you wild.

Close enough that when her eyes alone make you twitch, she feels it brush against her waist.

"Look at me."

Another demand obeyed—all part of the deal.

Maybe it's the light, maybe it's the proximity—her eyes are darker than you remember, a deep brown that would swallow you whole, if only you'd let them.

"Hands," she says next, and she's taking hold of your wrists, pulling them to her, to her body—her unfathomably-tight waist—squeezing down on your fingers to make sure she's locked in your grip. "Now kiss m-"

You're jumping the gun, pulling her closer to you, pulling her lips into yours, warming your tongue with hers, tasting sweetness, tasting her eagerness—or more correctly, her neediness.

She’s opening the door a little, letting you discover a part of her that she's been hiding from you, truly meeting her for the first time—her left hand finding the nape of your neck, her right reaching down below, wrapping fingers around you, holding you against her.

"Mmmph..." She's moaning into you now, her hands are on the move, feeling, stroking—soft, delicate fingers taking your full measure, all the way from the tip... all the way to the base.

It’s making you grow bigger for her, too big for her dainty grip, but she squeezes back against you, gliding her hand up and down, up and down, again and again—all for her pleasure, showing you that no matter how good she's making you feel, it's making her feel better.

That’s when you break the rules for the first time, taking the initiative and running your hands up her back to the lift up her shirt, wanting to catch just a glimpse of more of her flawless, porcelain-white skin. Before you can boldly make your move, she's pushing back against your chest with her free hand, releasing your lips and leaving you with a groan, halting you in your tracks.

"No," she whispers, her eyes darkening with something that isn't quite anger, but is definitely a warning. "Not yet."

A gulp and a nod is all you have for her in response, but it's enough to satisfy her—enough to return her lips to your body, to continue her excruciatingly delightful movements over your shaft.

Her breath is hot, heavy, as she plants kisses on your neck, your collarbone—tracing lines down your chest with her tongue, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake. Miyeon's eyes lock onto yours as she continues her expedition, watching you watch her work—watch her make you unravel.

Every movement is intentional—the lower her lips get, the slower her strokes, each more deliberate, each one a silent experiment of how much you can bear.

She takes her time, until at last, finally, she's on her knees before you—no longer stroking, no longer moving—just breathing on you, staring at you, frozen in fascination at your length—at what she's done to you.

And then she licks her perfect, pretty, pink lips.

"Miyeon-" is all you can muster, but it’s too late—she's taking you in—inhaling you—warm—fucking hot—lips wrapping around you, forcing you to hold your breath as she brings you deeper, deeper into her throat.

You had expected teasing, torture even—but not this—not her tongue sliding under your shaft, not her moans around your cock, not her eyes watering as she breathes you in, making a mess of you until her nose has met your chest and your tip has met the back of her throat.

It takes all your strength to keep your knees from buckling as she keeps you there, keeps you down her throat, testing herself against you. The pleasure is overwhelming, intense, but for the two of you it's the power play—she's the one looking up at you, her makeup smudged, eyeliner a disaster—yet she's in complete and total control, feeling your body tighten from just a flick of her tongue, feeling you get closer and closer to the edge.

"Gah-" she rises back up off you, unsheathing your cock from her throat, a glob of her spit following behind her, a glistening bridge from her lips to your tip. She's grinning wildly now, so fucking pleased with herself, so turned on by having conquered you—having conquered your cock. "I did it."

But you don't get to recover—how silly of you to think she would let you—and her lips are back on you, lightning shooting up your spine as she takes in half of you, before releasing—again and again and again.

She's bobbing up and down, putting on a show for you—letting you see how her cheeks hollow, how her lips take you in, how you make her eyes water and how her tongue does it’s best to break you—a masterful dance that somehow makes you feel both worshiped and utterly dominated.

"Mmmmm..." A flick of her tongue against your tip lets you know that she's tasting you, tasting the warm pre-cum leaking past her lips. "I fucking knew it," she murmurs, her voice low, but loud enough for you to hear. "Knew that you would be this big—knew that I could take whatever you had."

"God, Miyeon—" you eke out a groan as she starts to stroke you again, keeping up the pace, keeping up the pleasure.

"Knew that you would taste this good—knew that it would feel this fucking good in my throat."

She doesn't wait for an answer—doesn't need one—her tongue is already back on you, painting your cock with her saliva, up and down, around and around.

It's her moans around you—she's loving this, loving doing this to you—so much so that she doesn't even mind it when you thread your fingers through her hair, pulling on her more forcefully than you intended, desperately pushing more of yourself into her. She takes it, welcomes it, confident that if it came down to it, she would be the last one standing.

You still try—stopping her head still and start to move—start to pound away. Her eyes widen, but she doesn't pull away, not even when you pick up speed, not even when her moans get muffled and you're hitting the back of her mouth, not even when you're the one setting the pace and burying your cock down her hot, tight throat.

It's in her eyes—the challenge, the suggestion—use me, break me if you can—cum—give it to me.

Her hands are on your hips, beckoning you, pushing you to go faster, to fuck her face harder—encouraging you, egging you on. And so you do—you give in to the instinct that's been burning in your veins since she first made you strip for her—you fuck her mouth, her throat, ruin that gorgeous, fucking irresistible face as she struggles to keep up.

Tears are streaming down her eyes now, her breaths coming in ragged gasps around you, but she never looks away—her gaze holding yours, telling you that she's okay, that she wants this—that she can take this.

You shouldn't be fucking her face this hard—it shouldn't be possible to—but you keep going, groaning—"Miyeon", "fuck", "God"—and just when you're about to slip, just when you're about to completely fall apart in her mouth, she forces herself off you, seizing back control and holding you at your base, aiming directly at her picture-perfect visage.

"Cum for me," she squeezes you, wringing you, wanting you. "Do it."

You throb, you explode, you cum, you obey—because that's what she’s asking of you.

It takes every effort to keep your eyes open—to see Miyeon—as you feel the orgasm ripping through your body, the heat spilling from you and onto her face, her chin, her neck—onto a carefully manicured eyebrow, and an undeniably cute dimple. Your cum showers her, paints her, masking her with your release.

And Miyeon takes it, takes all of it, eagerly, smiling up at you through the mess, poking out a tongue to taste as much of you as she can, despite it still overflowing and dribbling down the corners of her mouth.

You shake, you want to collapse, but Miyeon keeps her hold on you, looking up at you like you're her fucking property—and maybe in this moment, you are. Her eyes are glazed over, her cheeks are flushed, and through the cum you can see that devastating smile as she swallows and drinks what remains of you down.

"So fucking good," she whispers, her hand still moving, still stroking you, placing soft, sweet kisses on your exhausted cock, still sending those tingles of pleasure shooting through you. "I knew you would be amazing."

"Fuck, Miyeon."

But she's already rising, on her feet and looking at you expectantly, wiping the excess from her chin with the back of her hand. "I want more," she states. It’s simple. It’s a command. "Take me to the bedroom."

And she's already walking away, peeling off her clothes, soft fabric meeting the floor as you catch a sight of the lovely slope of her back, the perfect curve of her ass—her body bared before you, calling for you to take it.

“Come on,” she calls out to you, “we’re just getting started.”

You stumble forward, following after her—obeying her wishes.

Because why wouldn't you?

That was your deal.

---

A/N: thanks again to @i-am-lifeform24 for actually managing to get me to finish something. what a legend.

[erika-xero]

Beware, the long post incoming. Pro tips for artists who work on commissions!

DISCLAIMER: I do not have, like, a HUGE online following and can’t be called a popular or viral artist, but I do have some experience and I’ve been working as a freelance artist for more that five years, so I could share a few tips on how to work with clients with my fellow artists. Scroll down for the short summary!

First of all, you always need to have your Terms of Service written down in a document that is accessible for your potential clients. And by terms of service I don’t mean a set of rules like “I don’t draw mecha, anthro and N/S/F/W”. There is much more into it, than you may think when you first start drawing commissions.

You’ll need to understand how copyright law/author’s rights in your country works (for example, US copyright or Russian author’s rights, be sure to check your local resources). There are a bunch of sites where you can actually read some legal documents (. I know it might be boring, but TRUST me, you WILL need this knowledge if you choose this career path.

Russia, for example, is plagued with shops selling anime merchandise. The merchandise is usually printed somewhere in the basement of the shop and the shop owners literally rip off other people’s intellectual property. If the artist ask them to remove their IP from the shop the owners usually try to fool them with lies about how the IP works. They will tell you, that you have to register copyright on every single drawing and if you don’t do it anyone can reproduce and sell your artwork. In reality, copyright law in most countries simply doesn’t work this way. Once you create an original work and fix it, take a photograph, write a song or blog entry, paint an artwork, you already are the author and the owner. Yes, there are certain procedures of copyright registration, which is only a step to enhance the protection, but you become an author the very moment you create a piece of art, and no one have a right to take your creation from you. Knowing your rights is essential.

Some of your commissioners may try to scam you too, but most of them might simply not be aware of how copyright law works. I literally had people asking me questions whether or not the character I am commissioned to draw becomes MY intellectual property. I literally had to convince the person (who was legit scared, since the commissioned piece was going to be a first image of his character ever created) otherwise. If you have an idea of the character written down or fixed in any other form such as a collage, a sketch, or a concept art -- the character is yours. Artist may have rights to the image they create, but not the character itself. Your potential commissioner must acknowledge that their characters, settings and etc. is still theirs, while your artwork is yours, if your contract doesn’t state otherwise. You can sell the property rights on your artwork to your commissioner if you want, but it is unnecessary for non-commercial commissions. And I strongly advice you to distinguish the non-commercial commissions from commercial ones and set the different pricing for them. Even if you sell ownership of your artwork to your commissioner, you can not sell the authorship. You will always remain an author of your artwork, thus you still have all the author’s rights stated in the legal documents.

Another thing that is absolutely necessary to be stated in your terms of service is information whether (and when) it is possible to get a refund from you. You absolutely have to write it down: no. refunds. for finished. artworks.

You have already invested time and effort to finish an artwork. The job is done and the money is yours. I’ve heard stories of commissioners demanding refund a few months later after the commission was finished and approved by the commissioners, because, quote “I do not want it anymore”. Commissioning an artist doesn’t work this way, artwork is not an item purchased on shein or aliexpress that can be sent back to the seller. It is not a mass production. It is a unique piece of art. Example: My friend once drew a non-commercial commission for a client who tried to use it commercially later on. She contacted him and reminded of the Terms of Service he agreed with, offering him to pay a fee for commercializing the piece instead of taking him to the court or starting a drama. He declined and suddenly demanded a full refund for that commission via Paypal services. My friend contacted the supports and showed them the entire correspondence with that client. She also stated that the invoice he paid included a link to the Terms and Service he had to agree with if he pays that invoid. The money were returned to her.

However, partial refund can be possible at the certain stage of work. For example, the sketch is done, but something goes horribly wrong. Either the client appeared to be a toxic person, or an artist does not have a required skill to finish the job. I suggest you keep the money for the sketch, but refund the rest of the sum. It might be 50/50 like I suggested to my clients before (when I still could work with Paypal), but it really depends on your choise. I suggest not doing a full refund though for many reasons: not only you make yourself vulnerable, but you also might normalize a practice harmful to other artists this way.

The main reason why full refund when the sketch/line-art are done must not be an option is that some clients may commission other artists with lower prices to finish the job. This brings us to the next important point: you absolutely need to forbid your clients from altering, coloring or overpainting your creation or commission other artists to do so. This also protects your artwork from being cropped, changed with Instagram filters or even being edited into a N/S/F/W image. Speaking of which. If you create adult content, you absolutely need to state that to request such a commission, your commissioner must at least be 18/21 years old (depending on your country). And as for the SFW commissions you also have to state that if someone underage commissions an artwork from you it is automatically supposed that they have a parental concern.

There is also a popular way to scam artist via some payment systems, called I-did-not-receive-a-package. Most of the payment systems automatically suppose that you sell goods which have to be physically delivered via postal services. This is why it is important to state (both in the Terms of Service and the payment invoice itself) that what commissioner is about to receive is a digital good.

And the last, but not the least: don’t forget about alterations and changes the commissioner might want to make on the way. Some people do not understand how difficult it may be to make a major change in the artwork when it is almost finished. Always let your commissioners know that all the major changes are only acceptable at early stages: sketch, line-art, basic coloring. Later on, it is only possible to make the minor ones. I prefer to give my commissioner’s this info in private emails along with the WIPs I send, but you can totally state it in your Terms of Service. I do not limit the changes to five or three per commission, but I really do appreciate it when I get all the necessary feedback in time.

To sum this post up, the info essential for your Terms of Service doc is:

- The information on whether or not your commissions are commercial or non-commercial. If they are non-commercial, is there a way to commercialize them? At what cost?

- The information on author’s and commissioner’s rights;

- The information on whether (and when) refunds are possible;

- The prohibition of coloring, cropping, overpainting and other alterations;

- The information on whether or not you provide the commissioner with some physical goods or with digital goods only;

- Don’t forget about your commissioner’s age! If you work with client who is a minor, a parental consern is required. And no n/s/f/w for underage people!

- You may also want to include that you can refuse to work on the commission without explanation in case you encounter a toxic client or feel like it might be some sort of scam.

- I also strongly suggest you work with prepay, either full or 50% of total sum, it usually scares off the scammers. I take my prepay after me and my client agree on a rough doodle of an overall composition.

- I also include the black list of the themes: everyting offensive imaginable (sexism, homophobia, transfobia, racism, for N/S/F/W artists it also might be some certain fetishes and etc). Keep your reputation clean!

- Ban N/F/T and blacklist the commissioners who turn your artworks into them anywayss, don’t be shy <3

These are the things that are absolutely necessary but are so rarely seen in artists’ Terms of Service that it makes me sad. Some of these tips really helped me to avoid scams and misunderstandings. I really hope it helps you all!

[marlynnofmany]

Confidential Human Questions

I was walking past the door to the cockpit quietly because I heard Captain Sunlight on a video call with a client, but then I heard, “Was that a human? Call them back; I have a question.”

This ought to be good, I thought as I spun on my heel.

Captain Sunlight was just calling my name as I reached the doorway. “Ah yes, thank you. Would you mind answering a human-related question?” She stood in the middle of the room, yellow scales bright in the good lighting. She managed to look up to my height without making it seem awkward.

“Sure,” I said. “What’s the question?” I stayed in the doorway. The room was a little crowded, with Wio in one pilot’s chair, tentacles manipulating many controls at once, and Kavlae doing something to fix her own chair with a hand tool. Judging by the way her head frills were flaring with frustration, she wasn’t done yet.

The client on the big screen curled his own tentacles. “I’m concerned about my ship’s human,” he said, turning his pointy squid head to make sure he wasn’t overheard. He lowered his voice and spoke closely to the screen. “We only have the one, you see, and I don’t want to ask any awkward questions directly.”

“I understand,” I said with a nod. Captain Sunlight ushered me into the room, then stepped out to talk to Zhee about something. I heard the distinctive click of his bug feet.

The client was still talking, with agitated twists of his pebbly gray tentacles. “We don’t have a medic onboard, just an automated medical suite. The human will be going home soon — limited time work contract, you know — but I’m honestly worried about infection spreading there, since I think this human caught it by meeting up with another. I gather that this other is on good terms with ours, and may be going to the same place either way, but I don’t want to contribute any contagion from my ship.”

“What kind of symptoms are we talking about?” I asked, mentally going over the short list of diseases that I knew of which could jump between species. This might be worth consulting our own medic. “No one else onboard is affected?”

“No, just the human,” he said, making vague loops with his tentacles. “There’s a malignant-looking growth, along with fatigue and gastrointestinal distress. The human has been acting a little… unpredictable.” He looked behind himself again. “I very much don’t want to cause an incident by prying, especially if this is something she knows to be terminal.”

I opened my mouth then closed it, choosing my questions with care. “Is the growth about here?” I pantomimed a roundness at my own stomach. “How long since she met with the other human?”

“Yes, exactly there! It’s been approximately half a standard orbit. What is it? Do you know?”

He was so sincere and worried that I had to smile. “Good news! In my opinion as a professional human, that’s not a disease at all. Your human is going to be a parent.”

Instead of relaxing, he looked confused. “Humans gestate eggs for that long? Shouldn’t she have laid them by now? She looks awfully uncomfortable. Oh no, are they stuck?” Now he was getting alarmed. “I had a relative who got eggbound once, and it was dire!”

I raised my hands in a calming gesture that I hoped he understood. “No, no eggs. Humans give live birth.”

“Live what?”

“Just — we lay the babies, already hatched.” I looked to my various crewmates for support, and found four different sets of eyes watching in curiosity. “All of you lay eggs, don’t you?”

Several nods answered me, along with, “Well not personally,” from Zhee. “But yes.”

I sighed and turned back to the screen. “It’s extremely normal on my planet. Just think of it as carrying the nest around internally. There are pros and cons to the whole thing, but yeah. At any rate, it sounds like she’s planning to join up with her mate at home, and raise their offspring together.”

The client looked fascinated. “Is there anything I should do? Or not do? I can make sure my crew is informed.”

“I understand it’s an uncomfortable process. Just be gentle, and encourage rest,” I said. “Oh, and have other crewmembers handle anything that involves bending over or moving heavy things.”

By the swift tentacle motions offscreen, he was typing notes.

Another thought occurred to me. “I don’t know how long until you reach her home, but if things take too long, you’d better hope your medical suite is up to overseeing a childbirth. They’re very painful, sometimes dangerous. And messy.”

He stopped typing, eyes wide. “I need to check with someone about changing our schedule. Thank you, goodbye!” The screen went blank.

I looked to the captain. “Were you done talking with him, I hope?”

She nodded. “Yes, business is concluded. Which is good, since I don’t fancy having to track him down because he forgot to pay us.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I said with a glance back at the screen. “I didn’t even get to tell him how loud human newborns are, or how often they cry. I doubt there’s a crib onboard.”

Zhee made a disparaging hiss and wandered off in a cloud of opinions about species without the good sense to hatch at a properly capable stage of development.

Wio snorted. “Judging by the speed they just took off at, I don’t think they’re going to need one.” She pointed a blue-ringed tentacle at a display that showed the other ship departing in an all-fired hurry.

I shook my head. “Best of luck to all involved!”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[urhoneycombwitch]

On dad!Steve !! I would love if you could write something about him coming to terms with becoming a dad/pregnancy and labour/just first time dad!Steve in general makes me melt (especially if he's a girl dad 😔)

kay I’ll speak on it bc I have thoughts for SURE

cw: dad!steve, pregnant!R, light emetephobia ment, childbirth desc (no smut but my page is +18 only)

canon-wise, I feel like Steve’s only gotten smarter. obviously he’s still got a goofy himbo side. but he’s getting cleaner with fighting. sharper with his observations. lighter on his feet that’s only come with lots of protective practice.

but the part of him that really cares goes into overdrive after s4, in the canon I’m building in my head 😇 I think he might get a little obsessive about safety for awhile, in the wake of their heroic, underground-world-defeating victory. that kicks into high gear when he finds out you’re pregnant.

(see more of my to-be-named world building here)

for the first few months of your pregnancy he’s never been more grateful to be working in the same building as you. he takes every opportunity to to visit you at your library posting, between teaching his classes (under the pretense of grading papers. Professor Harrington can generally be found at a one-elbow lean on your front desk any time he isn’t in his office.)

he just loves you so much and wants to make sure you’re doing okay. he brings you ginger soda, the fancy brand you like- kept stocked in the staff fridge when your stomach is roiling with nausea, passed with an apologetic kiss to the back of your hand. 

bleeding heart Steve feels so bad he can’t take all the pain away, does his best to alleviate your new and growing discomforts. rubs your shoulders and puffy ankles down with lotion each night. gives up coffee in the mornings (even tho he used to RUN on caffeine) so you can kiss him without aversion 💖. he’s with you for every shaky night-sweat throw up session on the bathroom floor, kneeling to hold you hair back from getting sick in it. warm palm on your lower back in assurance and comfort. 

he calls it at 6 months. begs and cajoles and patiently argues (sweetheart, you’re wakin’ up so early with work. you should really rest, anyways- find a nice horizontal hobby to keep you off your feet. treat it like vacation 🫶) which turn into not so patient arguments (practically in your third trimester, goddammit, you want me to go crazy with worry? gonna have premature greys at this rate. let me keep you safe, angel, please. for my sake.) until finally you agree to take the damn maternity leave early.

and u know Steve’s reading all the books. how to be a good first-time dad. 101 lessons for the new parent. mother’s health and wellness magazines. childbirthing books. by the end of your third trimester, he’s gained enough knowledge to be an honorary midwife. could deliver the baby himself, if the situation really called for it. better to be prepared 🫡

and that spring , you’re both lounging on the couch. there’s a sunny spot under the big window, and you’re warming like cats, you feet propped in Steve’s lap. moon of a stomach peeking out from underneath a stolen one of Steve’s soft tees. his eyes are fixed on his library book on gentle parenting until you take a sharp inhale.

there’s a spasming band just under your navel that you press your hands into, and Steve pauses in rubbing absentminded at your ankle. looks up at you in concern and then at his watch and says “whoa, that’s like, 4 contractions in the last 5 minutes. are these for real or what?”

and you’re like “uhmmmm. don’t b mad but my water kind of broke this afternoon.”

and Steve looks at you with this very poorly concealed bewilderment that’s quickly morphing into shock and so you start talking before he can like “no no it’s chill. it’s cool!! 😎 doesn’t even hurt that bad and I knew you’d be home at 4 anyways….”

and you quiet when Steve rips his glasses off and pinches his nose between two fingers and says in a Very strangled voice “yeah. okay. well it’s 5 PM traffic right now which means rush hour which means we need to go to plan C right off the bat…”

and you watch this man unravel in the most efficient way possible. tugging at the roots of his hair until it stands overly-tall but managing to pack all your bags in the car in under 3 minutes. a record. and he gets to the hospital using all the mapped-out backroads so you’re there in a tight 15.

but as it turns out, a speedy arrival to the L&D ward of Hawkins Memorial wasn’t even necessary, because you spend the next 21 hours in the most intense, soul-crushing pain Steve’s ever seen you go thru in his life and it almost breaks him. for real. 

he’s so soft for you and no amount of reading about other people giving birth could have prepared him for the heartache and helplessness of seeing you ride the wave of a contraction. or go thru the brutal process of getting an epidural, your hands digging into his forearms hard enough to leave bruises as you leaned on him thru it all. 

and Steve did not know he could fall more in love w you but he does, the second you become a parent alongside him, wet and wriggling baby girl placed on your chest. spend two nights in the hospital healing up and fumbling through feedings and giggling over your new tiny daughter. counting her fingers and toes every time you unwrap her. cooing over those big brown eyes that look just like Steve’s.

and with his first baby, Steve is overprotective to the max. only Robin can babysit at first, and that’s only after she’s checked off a rigorous amount of reading material from Steve’s comprehensive required book list. he’s fussy about her routine (truly puts so much of the postnatal stress in himself so you can focus on bonding w/ your babe and resting), is fiercely protective over u and the new baby, like mama bear to the maxxx.

he’s actually GREAT at multitasking and the all consuming constant buzz of listening for certain types of crying and feedings and baby hand-offs thru the night really solidify the fact that he can do this. he’s already a million times better than his own parents at it, a fact of which you constantly remind and encourage him with. 

and I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again, best thing to ever happen to Steve Harrington is having a second kid bc it chills him way the hell out. for reasons chalked up simply to It's the way the world works, Steve falls into a natural rhythm w your second kid. finds his stride as they say. he’s just as excited and caretaking and protective during your second pregnancy as with your first, but this time without all of the panic and wire-thin nerves. coasts thru calmly.

perhaps a touch too calm, because when you go into labor with your second kid, it’s the middle of a snowstorm in Hawkins, and since u and Steve went thru such a long hard birth with your eldest, you both take your sweet time getting ready to go. saying goodbye to your 3 year-old while aunt Robin comes to stay. even stopping for a snack on the way to the hospital because last time they didn’t let you eat and you were fucking ravenous the whole time.

but then Steve has to drive so slow and safe bc of the snowy roads and you’re still a good 20 mins out when things progress so rapidly and so unlike the first time around; Steve is so level-headed and  lets you crush all the bones in his right hand while he drives with his left, coaching you through breathing exercises, trying to keep calm but oh shit, you’re making the same sounds you made three years ago when you brought your first baby into the world, all low groans and gritted teeth and Steve’s pleading with you to hold on, just a few more minutes as he coasts into the emergency bay of L&D. doesn’t give a fuck about parking in a tow zone, they can take the damn car, Steve’s already launching himself out of the drivers seat to scoop you up and hike it indoors. 

in the nick of time. 10 minutes and a few pushes later and your second baby is there, all scrunched and tiny, so much smaller than her sister, got the slope of your nose and Steve’s pretty cupids bow. she arrived so fast it feels like a joke, you and Steve cuddling a bit cramped (the way you all like it) in the hospital bed, laughing a little, marveling at the fact that you’re a family of four now, how different it’s all been the second time around. how neither of you realized how much your hearts could expand to engulf your two kids with so much love, it feels like you’re both bursting at the seams 💖

[bitsbug]

good evening rainworld community. look at my ocs NOW

YOU CAN ASK THEM QUESTIONS BTW. please do I’ve been marinating them for months. finely cured.

multiple paragraphs introducing each under the cut !

Curtains Drawn Over Bone - he/him

The first of my iterators, and frankly the most developed. Curtains is incredibly young for an iterator, made at the tail end of the last generation, and was subject to some.. negligent planning during his construction. He was placed in an area of dubious rain quality and worse ground stability; the conditions were considered acceptable back then, but millions of cycles later that's no longer the case.

 Despite this glaring issue, he's been handling it better than you'd expect. Having recognized the long-term affects of his placement early on, Curtains took an interest in maintenance and optimization in order to survive, completely disregarding the Great Problem. He's broken some taboos in the process, and surprisingly didn't contract rot while doing it. His efforts have paid off with a suite of purposed organisms and a significantly more advanced, upgraded facility.

 Some things would be impossible to address, though. Despite his best efforts, erosion and earthquakes now threaten to topple his can; something he's scrambling to fix.

 Curtains is generally regarded as a finicky, flighty person by his group. He's a recluse and a workaholic, driven by some desperate ferver to avoid the worst. When he does appear in chatrooms, he seems constantly wound up, often vanishing as quickly as he arrives. He was like this long before his current situation. But do not mistake his nervousness for ineptitude, because Curtains is very meticulous and dedicated in his endeavors, backed by his thorough understanding of iterator anatomy and a genuine passion for his work.

Twenty Taken in Vain - they/them

The only iterator in this damn group who isn't a social recluse. Built in the golden age of the Ancients, a time of prosperity and uneventfulness, TTiv found their place in the bustling global communities of their kin. They're of the belief that research is best done collaboratively, and constructed their workflow around this frame.

But, really, they never much cared for that work or their purpose. Devoting themself to tireless research for something likely impossible just wasn't a good use of time, nor did they find the process very interesting, so they sought to fulfill their life in less desolate ways. As much as a sentient, static building is able to, at least.

In particular, Twenty Taken in Vain pursues a variety of art forms! There's a critical lack of artwork made with iterators in mind (While interesting to discuss, most Ancient books can be read in less than a second for example), so they seek to fill that gap. Their main passion is literature, but they do dabble in many other subjects, such as digital painting, textile weaving, 'false memory' qualia fabrication, and DMing a tabletop roleplaying game for their local group.

Their social proclivities haven't served them well in recent years, because the global communications decay has left them more isolated than ever before. Losing contact with multiple close friends has drained them of motivation, and made them fearful of losing those they do have left. Imagine like, depression but on a supercomputer scale.

In personality, TTiv is as chatty as you'd expect of them, but without the energy associated with extroversion. Their charisma is carried in their nonchalance and humor, with an undertone of snarkiness - only occasionally with any bite to it. They're adaptable as well, without a fixation on one subject and a willingness to introspect. Since the comm failure, they've become a lot quieter and more irritable, stress they've barely kept under wraps.

Anxiety Practice - it/xe

Polite and inoffensive, AP is an easily overlooked iterator. It appears frequently in chatrooms, but always in the shadow of its kin, and rarely draws attention to itself. Despite this demeanor, xe certainly aren't shy or nervous - that's already taken by Curtains - xe just prefer xer distance and privacy.

 As it currently stands, Anxiety is the only member of its group actively working on the Great Problem. It prefers exploring more unorthodox theories for ascension, with a fixation on Karma flowers and their properties. As part of its experiments, its created a few.. curious organisms hybridized with the flower. It also collaborates closely with Distant Humming for information on the grander Cycle and general advice. Thus far, it's made a few fascinating discoveries, but predictibly no breakthroughs on the Triple Affirmative. Oh also, sometimes xe put karma-affecting drug cocktails into xer water intake. normal iterator behavior i promise.

 Even at xer most comfortable and nonchalant, AP keeps an aloof, almost stoic nature. Chronically icy cool, xe seem incapable of expressing anything besides calm indifference. This isn't true, of course, xer composure is just nothing to scoff at. It even uses its reputation for comedy at times, usually through deadpan delivery or 'breaking character'.

Distant Humming - she/Her

An anomaly in existence, the first iterator to almost reach ascension. Distant Humming became an echo by her own hand, using heavy adjustments to her retaining wall and filter pumps to essentially bathe her facility in void fluid, solving the issue of her kinds' distributed conscience by just addressing all of it. at once.

 Her subsequent failed ascension left her systems broken and mutated in impossible ways, but she functions nonetheless in her ethereal, undying state. The warping irreparably affected her memory and personality though; she considers herself a different person from the Humming before.

 Despite her uncanny nature and haunting appearance, Distant Humming is a surprisingly amiable person, if vague or foreboding at times. Her detached state of existence allows her the breathing room to appreciate the world for what it is, and insight into the Cycle that'd be impossible to gain from within it. She's happy to share her observations with anyone who'd listen.

 About once a year, Humming's karmic cycle aligns with that of her local group, affording her a limited time to speak with them. She appears totally non-existent outside this period.

THAT’S ALL BYEEE

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Barbara Stanwyck (Ball of Fire, The Lady Eve, Double Indemnity)—I hope someone else has submitted better propaganda than I because I don't want my girl's prospects to rest on me just yelling PLEASE VOTE FOR MY TERRIBLE HOT GIRLFRIEND. She is a delight in everything! She is often a sexy jerk! (It's most of the plot of Baby Face!) Even when she plays a "good girl" (as an example, Christmas in Connecticut, which more people should see) she's still kind of a jerk and I love her for it! She won't take men's shit and she sure wouldn't take mine!

Mae Clarke (The Public Enemy, Frankenstein)—she was in frankenstein. which i think is neat

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Mae Clarke propaganda:

Barbara Stanwyck propaganda:

"THE queen of screwball comedies. I adore her, I'd kill for her, I will cry if she's not gonna win this poll."

"listen ok she had awful politics she was a mccarthyist right wing wacko BUT she's so incredibly hot that i've deluded myself into believing i could fix her. if you see her onscreen she carries herself in a way that's just so effortlessly sexy AND she has just a stunning face. imo she was at her hottest in the 1940s but even as early as the late 1920s she had a rly captivating screen presence and just a beautiful face, and then post-1950 she was just irresistibly milfy so really she was just always incredibly hot. she was also an incredibly talented actress who was equally stellar in melodrama, film noir, and unhinged screwball comedy. the blonde wig they made her wear in double indemnity is notoriously silly looking but she still looks sexy in it so that's gotta count for something. i've watched so many terrible movies just for a chance at seeing her that i think her estate should be paying me damages."

"Not often thought of for her sultriness, Barbara Stanwyck was incredible in that she could actually choose to be hot if the role called for it, and then have a glow-down to look ordinary for another role. She wasn't the most beautiful or effervescent, but damn did she have rizz. Watch her with Gary Cooper in Ball of Fire teaching him about "yum-yum" or with Henry Fonda in The Lady Eve whispering huskily into his ear."

"THE leading lady of the golden age of hollywood. One of the only actresses to work independent of a studio, making short-term contracts that enabled her to make movies wherever she wanted. She had so much range, and could act in basically any genre. She's been rumored to be a lesbian literally since she was active in Hollywood; most notable is the rumor that she had a long time on-and-off relationship with famously bi Joan Crawford, her "best friend" for decades (They lived right next door to one another). She also lived with Helen Ferguson, her "live-in publicist" for many years. She was the quintessential femme fatale in Double Indemnity, and really pushed sexual boundaries in her pre-code films like Baby Face, and the famous screwball The Lady Eve, where she plays basically a downlow domme. Allegedly, when a journalist asked her if she was a lesbian, she straight up threw him out of her house. She even played a lesbian in Walk on the Wild Side"

"She is always the smartest woman in the room. Watching her play Henry Fonda like a befuddled fiddle in The Lady Eve was a highlight of my life. Femme fatale in Double Indemnity, comedy queen in Ball of Fire. She can do anything."

"She was part of my gay awakening"

"SHE'S A PRE-CODE QUEEN. She did everything, drama, comedy. The most beautiful woman in the world to watch weep. Beg for to step on you with those legs. Fun Babs story: Ginger Rogers was offered the role in Ball of Fire but said, “Oh, I would never play that part, she’s too common.” So they called Barbara Stanwyck and they said “We offered this to Ginger Rogers but she’s turned it down, would you be interested?” And she read the script and she said; “You bet! I LOVE playing common broads.” (Source: https://misstanwyck.tumblr.com/post/72996544180/barbara-stanwyck-photographed-for-ball-of-fire)"

[bullet-prooflove]

Hammer: Brock Reynolds x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @alexlynn16 @caffeinatedwoman

Companion piece to Buried Socks: Ceberus has a unique way of showing how much he misses you.

It’s the sight with Brock holding Leanne that makes you realise that Brock wants kids. The two of you have never talked about children, not really. That option had been taken away from you a long time ago when an RPG had hit the convoy you’d been a part of. You’d spent a month recovering in a military hospital in Germany, coming to terms with the fact you couldn’t have children.

Ten years later you have a home with a man you love, two dogs and a job that you excel at, what you don’t have is a baby and that…

That has never rubbed until today.

You leave the party after that. You erect those walls, the ones you spent such along time taking apart when you first got together because the two of you, you’re heading for a fall and you can feel it.

When he finds you a couple of hours later, you’re sitting on the back porch at home, sipping a beer as you watch Pepper and Cerberus play in the garden. Your duffle bag is already packed, resting alongside the door.

“It was the baby wasn’t it?” He says as he sits down beside you, rubbing his hands together as he watches Cerberus snuffle around the bushes. “It reminded you of what we don’t have.”

No, it reminded you of what he could have if he wasn’t tied to you. He’s young enough to start a family, to enjoy them. His contract is up in a year or two, he could retire from the SEALS, be around for his kids.

“You want that don’t you?” You say your voice breaking just a little and he hesitates because Brock has never lied to you, he won’t start now.

“Yes.”

It’s a blow, one that he feels shatter through your relationship like he’s brought a hammer down on a pane of glass.

“And I can’t give that to you so where does that leave us?” You ask despondently and Brock shakes his head because he doesn’t have an answer to that question.

“I don’t know.” He whispers.

He doesn’t move when you raise to your feet because he knows that it would be pointless. He can’t stop you from leaving and he can’t see a way to fix the problem he’s created. Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly  before you say.

“Well when you figure it out let me know.”

Love Brock? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[horny4hetfield]

Getting Business Done

On man!  I can see how this can become addictive!!!    I hope y’all like this one!!!

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected sex, slight degrading and confrontation, NSFW

You are very happy in your job.  You’d been there for several years.  Your boss, James, is a good looking – hell – handsome man.  Standing 6’1” with silvered short cut hair, horseshoe mustache, heavily tattooed, he could be an imposing figure.  Until he smiled.  It was always bright and his bluer than blue eyes would sparkle.  Both of you had been through some tough times.  His divorce.  Your long term relationship ending.  Having to move the company office due to water damage.

Then came the contract that on the surface looked to be a dream deal.  You, James and his business partner Chad, have spent numerous late nights in the conference room going over every word in the contract.  Finally, the day the customer was to come into the office to sign the deal arrived.  James had promised everyone that should this deal get signed, he was taking everyone out to dinner.  Studying your closet, you select the lacey purple dress.  Since it was July, the short skirt would be acceptable.  Somewhere in the back of your mind, you hope that James likes it too.  Quickly collecting your work things you hurry to get to the office.  You end up parking your car next to the huge black tuck that belongs to James.  You collect your things, get out of the car, lock it and get to your desk just inside the front door.  Your computer is just finishing powering up when you hear James walk up behind you.

“Hey, do you think this paragraph is really correct?” he sets down the stack of papers on your desk, pointing to the words in question, his other large hand resting gently between your exposed shoulder blades.  You really have to concentrate on the words and not the feeling of his hand on your back.  Pulling up the document on your computer you get to the paragraph in question.  You do a quick read through and make some edits.

“Does this work better?”

James flips the papers over grabs a pen and scribbles some changes.  You quickly make them.  He leans over you again to read the paragraph.  His cologne is just enough to be alluring. Looking sideways at him, his lips curl up into a radiant smile.

“That’s it!”

Hitting the print icon, “It’s on the printer!” 

He pats your back and leaves your desk area “I’ll go get it!”

You watch James go down the hallway.  You can’t help yourself.  He’s wearing the black jeans that just fit his ass perfectly.  The cowboy boots are perfect.  A white button down shirt with the rolled up sleeves exposing his tattooed forearms.  Your heart flutters.

The front door flies open and in walks the customer.

“Mr. Mancini, welcome to ….”

Mr Mancini almost throws his phone at you.  “You need to fix my travel!”  You take a step back as his face is filled with rage.  “I hate that airline!  And where is my coffee!  I told you to have my coffee waiting!”

You start out calmly, “Mr Mancini, I didn’t do your travel, but I will see what I can do …”

“You will fix it!  And get my coffee now!”  He’s yelling at you full volume.  In all your years of working, no one has yelled in a rage at you.  “I said now!”  Mr Mancini manages to land a backhanded swipe across your left check. 

It sends you stumbling into the short file cabinet behind your desk where you collapse to the ground.  Your head reeling.  From down the hallway you hear Chad yelling and a roar that can only come from James.  Chad is pushing the customer back.  James leaps the countertop of your desk to plant one foot on either side of you, hugging you with his lower legs.

“Chad if you want this contract, it’s yours.  But I want nothing to do with that man.”  The tone in James’ voice is one you’ve never heard him use before.  Low.  Growl.  Dangerous.  Leaning down, James tenderly puts his hands on your shoulders making you jump slightly.  “Hey”  His voice now a gentle rumble next to your ear.  “Can you stand up for me?”  You are shaking to your core and can’t move.  Gently lifting you, James collects you into his arms and bulldozes his way out the front door, leaving the shouting voices behind.

Taking you to his truck, he balances you on his knee while he opens the passenger door.  He hoists you into the passenger seat and secures the seatbelt.  Making sure that you are completely inside, he closes your door.  Moments later he’s in the driver’s seat and the truck roars to life. 

You are totally numb.  He tenderly grasps your left wrist, “Hey” his voice a gentle rumble, “stay with me.”

Your eyes lock onto his tattooed hand.  The warmth of his fingers are slowly warming your cold arm.  “What did I do wrong?” comes out in a squeak.

His fingers gently squeeze, “Nothing.  You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

The tears start to fall.  You can’t stop them.  You’re afraid to move.  Moving would let the dam break.

His voice a comfort, “I’m taking you to my place.  You don’t need to be alone right now.”  The truck makes a right turn, “Don’t worry.  I got you.”  It seems like moments later the truck pulls into his driveway.  He jumps out and pops open your door.  Undoing your seat belt, James scoops you out of the big vehicle, kicks that door closed and carries you inside.  He kicks off his boots just inside the garage door.

You barely notice where you are.  You are only acutely aware of being in James’ arms.  The warmth he radiates.  The rumble of his voice.  The hints of clean cotton shirt, his cologne and cigar from his neck as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

He sinks into the sofa, which puts you squarely in his lap.  He gingerly brushes a stray bit of hair from your face.  “You are safe now.”  That simple declaration opens the flood gates.  Your sobs are uncontrollable.  James just wraps you up in his arms securely.  “Let it out.”  He tenderly tucks you closer to him, “It’s ok” he coos into your hair.  He gently strokes your hair.  Your sobs slowly ease to hiccupping, then to sniffles.  The shoulder of his shirt now soaking wet.

James, holding you even tighter to his chest, leans over to the sofa table, collects the tissue box, sits back and hands you several.  Turning your head away, you blow your nose.  He gently wipes away the tear streaks down your cheeks with his thumbs.  His fingers gently lift your chin, “Let me see.”  His blue eyes filled with concern.  You let him turn your head.  His fingers gently touch your cheek.  Your face still being tender from being slapped, you flinch slightly.  He cups your head in both his hands and pulls you closer, “No bruise.”  His lips press tenderly to your forehead.

You pull back, blinking slowly, looking into his big blue eyes seeing the concern shift to – well – something more.  The denied tension inside you bubbles up flushing all other feelings away.  You take a shuddering shallow breath as he leans in closer, his eyes locked on yours.  You meet his lips.

A silent explosion happens between the two of you.  You both feed from the other.  His hand cups your head and his other arm wraps around you holding you close to his chest.  Your arms wrap around his shoulders and neck.  You are both panting when the kiss slowly breaks.

Almost in a whisper, “HR isn’t going to like this.”

A smirk spreads across his face, “I can fix that.”  He kisses you again, “You’re fired.”  A longer kiss.

“Ok.”  You relax into his arms.

He shifts you off his lap forcing your legs to pop up.  “Where are my shoes?”

His eyebrows scrunch up, “Maybe in the truck.”  He gently shifts your legs so he can stand.  Holding out his hands to you, you stand.  James gently pulls you toward him.  His fingers softly caress your arms, up over your shoulders, down your back – slowly unzipping your dress at the same time.  A shiver runs through your body.  You rest your hands on his waist.  At the end of the zipper, James fingers start working up your back, slowly pulling your dress open.  He pauses for just a moment when he expertly unhooks your bra.  His fingers pull both clothing articles off your shoulders.  They puddle around your bare feet.  Leaving you standing in front of this imposing man naked – save for the lacey purple thong.  Locking your eyes to his, you hook your thumbs into the waistband.

James’ hands quickly covers your, “I’ll get to that” his lips silence yours “In a moment.”

Your hands ghost up James arms.  His large hands rest on your naked waist.  Your fingers trace their way to the buttons on James’ shirt.  You undo the top button.  James’ fingers are making lazy circles on your hips.  The second button is undone.  You pull the fabric open and kiss the bit of his chest newly exposed.  He inhales sharply.  Another button undone.  Another kiss to his chest.  Another hitched breath.  Reaching behind him, you untuck his shirt from his jeans.  James grabs his shirt and yanks it open, the remaining buttons pop off in all directions.  You run your hands up his body to his shoulders pushing the ruined fabric from his body where it joins your dress on the ground.

You take a half step back, but James’ arms pull you back into his body.  His lips crash into yours.  Your arms wrap around his now bare back.  Your palms plant on his skin pulling him closer to you.  You can feel his erection pressing against his jeans.  His chest hairs gently rub against your very erect nipples.  Your loins flutter in response as a whimper escapes you.

Not breaking the kiss, James lifts you and carries you from the living room to his bedroom.  Kneeling up onto the bed, he lays you out under him.  His lips not breaking from yours.

Finally pulling away from your mouth, James kneels up.  His eyes drinking in your body.  His hands exploring your curves.  “You are beautiful” he breathes.

Reaching up, you undo his belt buckle and pull the leather from his pants and toss it aside.  The belt buckle clatters on the tile flooring.  James reaches to undo his jeans, but you gently push his hands away.  Smiling down at you, James lets you have your way.

Running your hands down his hips to his thighs, you feel his body respond to your hands.  James sighs deeply. Slowly your hands move to the front of James’ thighs just above his knees and slowly up.  Your fingers find his erection held in check by the fabric of his jeans.  Firm.  Strong. Throbbing.  You palm slowly up his cock.  James sucks in a sharp breath.

Pushing your arms to the side, he leans over you.  Planting his hands on either side of your body, kissing you.  He slowly lowers his body over yours.  You whimper.  “Just wait” he smiles at you.  “You can have that soon enough.”  His kisses slowly move down your neck to your chest.  “You first” he whispers into your ear.  You whimper as your pinned hips try to buck up into his.  He moves slowly down your body.  Kissing.  Nibbling.  Sucking.  Licking.  Making you moan and whimper as he leaves his love marks on your flesh.

He positions himself on his stomach between your legs.  His eyes lock on yours, his grin deliciously evil.  You wiggle your hips silently begging.  Resting on his elbows, his hands cup your butt and lift your hips to his mouth.  His gaze shifts from your eyes to look hungarily at your sopping wet thong.  He inhales deeply about half an inch from you making you whimper in anticipation. 

Flipping your legs over his shoulders frees his hands.  He pulls his knife from his back pocket.  Your eyes open wider at the blade when he snaps it open.

“I have wondered if the carpet matches the drapes” he chuckles.  The sharp blade slices the waistband easily of your thong.  James closes the blade and tosses the blade in the general direction his belt went.  Your hands fly to cover your crotch as James literally sucks the fabric from your body.  He groans in ectasy as he savors your essence from the fabric.  He spits the destroyed garment to the side.  Opening his eyes, he sees your hands covering your privates.  He looks curiously up at you.  Seeing the twinkle in your eyes, he smiles and kisses your knuckles, “Please?"”

Grinning and wiggling a little, “What do you think?” biting your lower lip at him.

Gently licking your knuckles, “They match” he chuckles.

Smiling, you move your hands, “Ta dah!”

His eyes open wide, “Ahhh!  Bare floors!”  Kissing your pubic bone, “Why?”  His fingers squeeze your ass cheeks.

Letting your fingers caress his face, “Personal preference.  I just don’t like hair … there.”

James sends his tongue in a long slow lick from your taint to your clit making your hips thrust up into his face, pulling a long groan from you.  Licking his lips, his blues eyes catch yours, “Yeah.  Hair would just get in the way.”  He lowers his mouth back down and his tongue starts exploring your sex.  His licks, swirls, suckings and tender nibbles render you unable to form a coherent word.

As the tension in you builds, he lowers your hips to the bed, wrapping his arms under your legs up over your thighs so that his hands grasp your hips, locking you in place.  The sudden inability to move intensifies the sensations that James is doing to your nether regions.  A few expert licks from James’ tongue sends you over the edge.  Your body tries to buck against the restraint James’ hands have your body. Your vision blurs and the moan becomes a scream of release.  His tongue keeps working your clit, overstimulating you to the point where you can longer move.  Panting.  Barely able to move.  Vision blurred.  You are only aware of his mouth on your cunt.

James slowly pulls away from your overstimulated clit.  He presses feather soft kisses on your inner thighs.  Slowly he releases his hold on your hips.  You are weak from release.  James slowly works his way up your body leaving a blazing trail of kisses, licks, nibbles and hickies on your flesh.  It feels like he is reviving your body with the intensity of his lips.

Your eyes flutter open to find his bright blue eyes directly in front of you.  Your arms don’t want to respond, so you crunch up and lock your lips to his.  James kisses you back with a passion that reaches deep into you – to your very soul.  His eyes fill with everything his kiss gives to you.  Passion.  Desire.  Wants.  Needs.  Lust.  You two feed off that kiss.

Recovering, you realize that he has shed his jeans.  His naked body is pressed against yours.  His erection is twitching at your dripping opening.  Your fingers find his face, tracing his eyebrows, down his nose, his mustache.  His lips kiss your fingertips, gently sucking on the pads of your fingers.  Reaching between your bodies he teases your clit with dripping end of his cock leaving you moaning and wiggling under his torturous teasings.  The only words you can barely utter “James, please.”

James grins at you and slowly pushes the head into your soaked pussy.  The size slowly filling you makes you suck in a deep breath, your eyes flaring wide.

“Shh, shh” James coos at you as he pauses.  “Breath” he whispers.

It takes you a few moments to adjust to the feeling of him stretching deep inside you.  Once the discomfort dissipates, you rock your hips up and hook a leg around his waist, your heel digging into his ass forcing him still deeper into you.  This action makes you both inhale deeply. 

James plants both his hands above your shoulders.  His knees nudge up tight against your hips, forcing him still deeper into you.  He lowers his face down to the crook of your neck, his panting breath warm on your flesh.  You can tell he’s holding back.  Waiting on you.  Wrapping your arms around him, you turn your face to his ear right by your lips.  Kissing his ear, you whisper, “yes.”

James’ groan reverberates through your body as he slowly starts moving his hips.  His shaft gets impossibly thicker, stretching and filling you as never before.  At first, James’ movements are slow.  You can feel every vein in his cock, the shape of the head as he slowly moves in and out of your tight hole.  His voice growls in your ear “You are so tight.”  He grunts as his cock drives slowly into you “So wet.”

Your fingers dig into his back, clutching his neck.  You tighten your leg around his waist “All for you” as he dives deeper.  He growls louder and sinks his teeth into your shoulder.

Arching your back, you cry out in both ectasy and pain.  You use all your strength to hold his head close to your neck.  Jame’s teeth tighten on your shoulder.  He keeps a steady rhythm pounding his hips against yours.  The pressure building in you.  The room is filled with the sounds of wet flesh slapping wet flesh as he pounds away in you.  The obscene sound of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy.  Both of you are reduced to primal grunts and groans.  You rake your nails down his back.  Letting go of your shoulder, he lifts his head roaring, his hips slamming even harder into you.  You reach down and claw his ass.  He cries out again.  His thrusts slamming you into his arms above your shoulders, holding you for his pounding pleasure.

The orgasms crash into you both at the same time.  The gummy walls of your cunt squeeze his cock intensely as his cum fills you.  James manages a few jagged thrusts before calming and slowly lowering his weight on to your body.  His softening cock slides from within you.  You can feel the warm mix of your climaxes seeping out.

His hands caress you.  Starting with your hair.  Slowly touching your face.  His fingers gently closing your eyelids.  “Just feel” he whispers into your ear.  His fingers glide gently over your neck, over your shoulder.  As they move over your bicep, sleep grabs hold and pulls you under.

A gentle rumble in your ribs pulls you back to wakefulness.  Your left arm is over your head, your right hand is draped over James left arm – which is wrapped around your ribs.  He is sound asleep, his face burrowed into your left side.  The top of his head pressed into your armpit – keeping you from lowering that arm.  His left leg is up over your hips.  Your legs dangle over his right thigh.

You have not felt this way – safe – in ages.  You softly trace the intricate tattoos on James’ left forearm.  He snorfels into your ribs which tickles and makes you giggle.  He tightens his hold on your ribs and blows mouth farts on your side.  You squeal in laughter.  He blows another.  “Stop!  I gotta pee!” you cry out in laughter.

Rising up on his elbow, a smile spreads across his face to his eyes.  James leans over you planting a kiss on you.  He releases his hold on you, “Bathroom is that way” he points.

Slipping off the bed you make your way to the door indicated.  Finding the toilet in it’s own little room, you sigh in relief.  Washing your hands after, you quickly return to the bedroom. 

James passes you “My turn” landing a backhand smack to your bare ass.

You stretch out on the bed.  James returns and spoons up behind you, pulling you into his body.  Kissing your neck, “Oh shit.  I bruised you.”  You can feel his fingers tracing out the spot on your neck.

“That will cover up ok.”  You roll to your back within his arms.  “At least you didn’t draw blood.”

Shaking his head, “Not my thing.”

Smiling, you pull his face closer and kiss him.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” James grins at you.

Doing an exaggerated pout, “I got fired.”

James, trying to be serious, “I know a guy.  I could put in a good word for you.”

A wicked smile grows on your face.  “That’s sweet.  But …”  Leading with your hips, you manage to roll him to his back letting the momentum carry you up on top of him.  “There’s a new position I thought I’d try for.”  You grind your dampening crotch into his quickly growing erection.

“Oh!  That’s interesting.”

Reaching between your bodies, you place his cockhead at your entrance, “I hear the interview is very penetrating” as you slowly sink down his length, stretching your depths.

James groans and pulls down on your hips, driving deeper into you.  “Well, that’s a great opening” he manages.  Using your Kegels, you grip his cock, squeezing and releasing.  He groans again.

James thrusts his hips up, overbalancing you.  Catching yourself on his shoulders – your left hand sliding off and landing by his neck.  James cups the back of your head and kisses you as you keep your actions working his cock.  Breaking the kiss, “That’s great multi-tasking abilities” he hisses.

Planting both your hands on his chest, you sit back up driving him deeper into your wetness.

Feeling his response, you speed up the rhythm.  His eyes roll back as you can feel his cock twitch inside you.  James reaches for your clit, but you grab his hands, “uh huh.  This is all for you.”  A few more strategic grinds and Kegels and he is undone.  With grunts and groans he fills your insides, your gummy walls milking every drop out of him.

James’ hands caress up your sides gently urging you down to his side.  He kisses your forehead, “You’re hired” he smirks.  You kiss his face and neck.  He lazily wraps his arms around you and heaves a sigh.  There you two linger. 

Then with a speed and agility you didn’t know he had, you are caught off guard as you find yourself on your stomach, he is behind you, his knees have knocked yours wide and you are impaled by his cock slamming back into your still dripping cunt.  His large hands pulling you tight against his body.

You can feel his chest hairs grazing your back as he leans over you, “Now.”  He slams into you again, “Let’s talk benefits.”

Only one word barely escapes your lips “ok!”

[durrtydawg]

hey gorl! idk how cereal you were about headcanons, but can i request something domestic? like what the uncharted boys are like when they're at home and not treasure hunting for once? (can be as clean/dirty as you like hehe)

Hey lovely! Thanks for waiting for so long, and sorry if this isn't what you had in mind, but I've spewed some domestic Sam headcanons into my notes that I think about too often. A lot of them are very random, so if you want something more specific, please let me know 👹❤️

I started writing Nate, too, but honestly, if you want some good Nate hcs, you should ask @nathandrakeisabottom bc she's gonna have them done to a T.

[Masterlist]

Without further ado,

Domestic Sam Drake Headcanons...

Sam likes to rotate his 'at-home wardrobe' between two pairs of ill-fitting jeans, raglan shirts, the odd henley, and a fuck tonne of minimalistic graphic tees with references that he has no clue about. Boots are abandoned for trainers. (- sneakers, for those who are anglo-challenged)

If it's cold-cold, he adds his trusty sherpa-plaid shirt combo.

If it's hot-hot, he opts for his slutty vests and perhaps some track shorts if he's feeling... frisky.

And fucking baseball caps. He wears them lots, and he wears them well. I do NOT make the rules.

Whenever the weather is good, Sam is outside working on his bike. Whether he's cleaning it, fixing it up, or just revving it for the attention, he'll be out there in aforementioned slutty little vest, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, tinkering away because he can't sit still for long at all.

When the weather isn't good, he's miserable. As soon as Winter rolls around, he contracts at least one cold a month, and whilst he gets surprisingly over dramatic about it, he also refuses to take any meds for it. Stubborn man.

Untidy- but never unclean. Being stuck in that grotty old prison for so long, it's clear that Sam wants nothing to remind him of his disgusting cell. He always cleans up after himself in terms of dirt and grime, BUT he's also become a bit of a hoarder, which also makes wherever he lives constantly untidy. Books, ugly little ornaments, and also clothes that he buys and never wears are scattered all over the place.

The idea of owning his own stuff remains seemingly overwhelming; he grows attached to whatever he gets his hands on because he's lived for so long without things of his own.

Continuing down the cleanliness route, Sam takes the longest showers you could imagine. The warmth? The privacy? They'll forever be luxuries to him that he wants to take complete advantage of.

Uses some sort of 250 in 1 body wash/shampoo/car brake fluid concoction, and is in complete refusal of the fact that he needs anything else... though once or twice his intrigue and thieving nature have gotten the better of him, and he's left the bathroom with an oddly feminine aroma that's dangerously similar to the scent of whatever it is his partner's using. Not that he'd ever use a girl's body wash.

Sam whistles around the house. A lot. Also sings quietly to himself throughout the day. He keeps it hushed, mostly, but for some reason, he thinks the shower is soundproof. Lucky for any cohabitors, he's got a pretty good set of pipes on him, and it's actually really sweet. ('We Didn't Start the Fire' by Billy Joel is one of his go-to's. He definitely brags about his ability to remember all of the words.)

He's a dab hand in the kitchen. Well. Sometimes. Sam's got a selection of about three dishes that he makes to Michelin star standard. Other than that he's fucking useless, which can be frustrating since he eats like an animal. Guys of his stature need fuel!

Many times has a frozen lasagna or a teaspoon that's been absentmindedly left in the microwave ended up almost burning the house down. Though, his mind is always in about six places at once, so you can't really blame the poor guy.

But those that he's good at? He's really good at. It's not often that he can be found in the kitchen with a tea towel strewn over his shoulder, four different pots and pans bubbling away on the stove, whilst he bops his head along to a crackly radio station, but when he is? You know you're in for a treat.

He can't scramble eggs for shit (he does it in the microwave and insists it tastes fine💀 it does not.) but can poach 'em good. Expect eggs benedict in the morning, or banana pancakes if you've got a sweet tooth. Not the type to eat brekkie? You are now.

Speaking of breakfast in bed:

Morning 👏 sex. Like... more than any other time of day. Sam wakes up with insane levels of energy in the morning, and the first two hours of his day are more productive than the other twenty-two combined. So if he's not out for a morning jog (eugh.) or busy finding out what recipe he wants to try out for breakfast, he's got it in you. End of. Perhaps you used to grumble about the time... but he's got a thing for your early-am laziness, and you've probably woken up with his head between your thighs more times than you can count. I suppose that feeds in to the somnoph1lia he's most definitely privy to.

That, of course, is not to say that he's exclusively into morning sex.

Is verrrry cuddly with partners when they're visiting or living together. Sam craves touch, so even if it's not a super committed relationship, lingering shoulder squeezes, resting his chin on your head whilst his arms are wrapped around your middle, and gentle strokes to the small of the back are staples- half the time he doesn't even realise he's doing them.

Overall, he’s one handsy bastard, and at his cockiest will take any opportunity he can to smack, squeeze, and even bite your ass if it's convenient enough, offering you nothing but a complacent grin when you try to snap at him. Best you save your moaning for the bedroom. He knows you love it.

Hear me out. He has a weird fascination with teleshopping channels. Not because he wants to buy any of it. Moreso because he enjoys criticising some of the ridiculous stuff they try to flog on there. With a mouthful of cereal, he'll be mocking whatever poor sod has a slot to sell their item, calling you to come and watch in hopes that you find it just as ludicrous as he does.

With TV in general, he has a very stereotypical 'dad' stance on it. Does the whole "what's this crap you're watching? Don't you wanna do something more productive with your day?", only to be glued to the screen within minutes, asking about characters and plot alike.

Unfortunately, this also includes Hallmark Christmas movies.

Sam loves loves LOVES 90's-00's british sitcoms (And no, that's not self-indulgent). I genuinely believe he would binge watch Father Ted and Peep Show happily, especially because he enjoys satire and absorbs the dry sense of humour like a happy sponge. He'd try to impress you with the accent too. Doesn't work.

Falls asleep on the sofa more than anywhere. Since he's often up at the crack of dawn, as soon as 5pm rolls around, he's yawning and 'resting his eyes'. That, and the fact that he finds it hard to get to sleep in bed unless he's totally fucked out. Something about being left alone with nothing but the view of the ceiling and his thoughts makes it difficult for him to switch off. Trauma, eh?

When he does sleep, though, he's precious. Definitely fidgets throughout the night, waking up all stiff because he's been in all sorts of weird positions. He doesn't snore... but he definitely mumbles in his sleep. And it's always nonsense.

Never plans a big groceries run. Sam's trips to the supermarket are solely made on an ad hoc basis, and every time he returns with something that definitely wasn't on the list, i.e. he'll go out to buy pasta but returns with a novelty kitchen timer shaped like a lemon, and a new wooden spoon because he doesn't like the turmeric stains on his current one.

Big porch dweller. Will idle away the hours smoking on his porch or balcony when he's exhausted all of his other options, and will draw little smiley faces on the railings with the burnt out end of the cigarette before throwing it away. Awh.

[preet-01]

Maxiel Political AU

Word Count: 1243

Summary: Max Verstappen only had one goal - to be President. It's all he's wanted since he was just seven years old and all that he's worked towards. But bachelors don't get elected as Presidents, for the most part. Enter Daniel Ricciardo. Daniel's the ideal candidate for the country's most prominent and stressful unpaid job: the President's loving partner, a pretty bauble for the country to fall in love with and look towards. In secret meetings, contracts are signed and a marriage is arranged. Max and Daniel must convince the American people that they are a loving couple and perfect for the White House

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Chapter Two

In the political campaign business, there are certain names that everyone knows regardless of party lines or election levels. Campaign managers, press secretaries, and speechwriters became household names for politicians and politician hopefuls over the years. 

One such name is Sebastian Vettel. 

The German-American from Philly had entered the political scene fresh out of college and had carved out a space for himself. 

From local campaigns to presidential campaigns, he had worked on everything and anything. But his most notable career achievement was approximately four years ago when he was on the Hamilton presidential campaign as the press secretary. 

Now, years later and with many successful campaigns under his belt, Sebastian was looking towards another presidential campaign to put his name on. 

Max Verstappen, by all accounts that Sebastian had heard, was the next big thing after Lewis Hamilton came onto the scene. And by rumors that he’d heard from his contacts, Max Verstappen would be running for President in 2028. 

“You’re barely finished with your first term as a Senator,” Sebastian states when he finally has a meeting with Max Verstappen. The young senator is ambitious, but he does have the results to back it. Though Sebastian would not tell him that just yet, perhaps after they’ve won the presidency. 

“The election is still four years away. Plenty of time for any inexperience to become experience,” Max states. He has no doubts in his abilities. The next few years will be enough for him to fix any shortcomings and build an electable resume for himself. 

“Indeed, I do not doubt that. Your record so far speaks for itself,” Sebastian says, though he seems to be holding back on something. 

“But?” Max inquires. 

“But there are things outside of your work record that will influence your presidential campaign,” Sebastian replies. 

They leave it at that, despite Max wanting to know more about it. Sebastian says it is a matter for a later time, and that he needs to work out some things in the background before it becomes a pressing issue. 

While Max would like to know more about Sebastian’s pressing concerns, he does have committee meetings to go to, and- his train of thought is broken by a text he gets from one of his colleagues. 

S.4398 is going to the courts for constitutional violations 

Plaintiffs hired Ricciardo from Thompson and Lancaster. Should be an easy win 

Max is confused because is he supposed to know who Ricciardo is? There were too many lawyers in the district to know everyone.  

____

“Are you wearing a signet ring?” Oscar questions. When they said that he could get an intern, Daniel assumed that he would get a helpful intern eager to learn and do whatever Daniel needed. He had been like that, taking whatever scraps he could get. Instead, he received Oscar. And while Oscar was very polite at first glance, in Daniel’s opinion the twenty-three-year-old was a menace to society – well mainly to Daniel, but he was society. “Oh god, you’re one of those lawyers,” he groans. 

“It’s a family ring and my grandfather is in town,” Daniel sighs. He hadn’t worn the family signet ring consistently since they’d found out he was a carrier, but his grandfather was in town and he couldn’t get away with it. “Have you filed the McKinley documents?” he asks, changing the conversation from his family to the newest case that Daniel had been chosen as the head lawyer. His record of winning had made it an easy decision for the bosses and plaintiffs.

“Filed them this morning,” Oscar replies, “Vergne was sniffing around about the case when I was filing.” 

“Of course he was. Boss man’s not been very subtle that this case could potentially make me partner,” Daniel sighs. His once close friendship with Jev had suffered with both of them at the same firm and Daniel’s promotion potential being greater than his. He was sad about it, of course, law school would have been hell if it wasn’t for Jev’s friendship. But Daniel wanted to become partner and he’d do whatever was needed to achieve that. 

“We’re meeting with McKinley tomorrow morning, I want you there,” Daniel tells Oscar. Oscar had been his intern for months now, but he hadn’t sat in any of the meetings so far. 

“What?” And for probably the first time, Daniel is able to surprise Oscar. 

“I think you’re ready and it is the next step,” Daniel replies. 

The rest of the day goes by without a hitch. Daniel can avoid seeing his grandfather until it’s time to leave the office. 

His grandfather is waiting for him in front of the building with a town car. “Daniel,” he greets with a nod and motions to the town car. Daniel sighs as he enters the car. All he wanted was to go home and just be a blob in his bed as he contemplated some innocuous decision that he’d made. But when Joseph Ricciardo shows up at your job with a town car, you get in the town car. 

“How was your trip, grandfather?” Daniel inquires. 

“It was adequate,” the older man replies. “I spoke with your friend, the campaign manager,” he says. 

“Sebastian? Why?” Daniel questions. As far as Daniel knows, there was no reason for his grandfather to speak with Sebastian. Daniel knows that his grandfather had gotten acquainted with Seb when Seb worked on the Hamilton campaign the first time around and he endorsed Lewis Hamilton. But since then, as far as Daniel knew, Sebastian hadn’t worked on a campaign that would require an endorsement from his grandfather. 

“He is taking on a new presidential campaign for 28,” Joseph says. “A Senator from New York,” he adds. Daniel knows one of the Senators from New York – John Robbins – they’d gotten coffee a handful of times over the years. He doesn’t think John is a presidential hopeful and he isn’t the type of candidate that Seb likes to work with. No Seb likes younger politicians, not those over the retirement age. 

“Robbins?” 

“No, the other one. Verstappen,” Joseph answers. 

“Verstappen?” Daniel tries to think back to what he knows of the young Senator from New York. Relatively new to the Senate, younger than most of his colleagues, the same party as Lewis, unmarried, and not as established as other 2028 presidential hopefuls. “He’d never win. Not yet anyway,” Daniel says. The voters didn't like unmarried newcomers they barely knew. Politics was a game of strategy and name recognition.

“Hhm, at his present state, he would not win, but should his situation change and he gets more established support, then he does have a strong chance,” Joseph says, handing him a file. “Sebastian compiled a file on him. He will be contacting you soon to discuss a potential, mutually beneficial agreement for both parties involved,” he says. 

Daniel knows what a mutually beneficial agreement means. This wouldn’t be the first time that Daniel had gotten such a file from his grandfather. His cousin’s aspirations were more in line with the videogame industry than politics, so a presidency was far-fetched. Therefore, the attention had returned to getting Daniel hitched to some Senator or Governor who could take the Ricciardo name to the highest office in the country. 

Usually, he ignored them and found one reason or another to deny them. But this was someone that Seb would be working with and that intrigued him. 

He’d meet this Senator Verstappen.

________

I feel iffy about this chapter, but it's a necessary step to get to the first meeting in the next chapter

Updates will be every other week

[rustingcat]

Vigilante

Kara was late.

She hated being late, but the amount of paperwork she had to sign was much larger than she anticipated, and the lack of signal in the classified room in the DEO meant that she couldn't alert Lena on time.

Kara made it to the lab an hour later, more exhausted than she realised.

"Kara! Is everything okay?" Lena asked the moment Kara put her bag down.

"Yes, I'm so sorry for the delay. I had to sign a LOT of papers for the DEO." Lena seemed so engulfed in the work, their work. The last thing she wanted was for Lena to feel like she's forced to take on the load.

"The DEO? Did something happen?" The worry in her voice was clear. Kara put a reassuring smile on her face to take some of it away.

"Yes, yes. I just signed an employment contract, I'm officially no longer a vigilante!" Kara said with a small chuckle.

"Oh, why the change? I remember you weren't a fan of working for the government before, especially with everything that went down with Colonel Hailey." Lena walked closer to her, a concern not completely gone.

"Well, now that my identity is public knowledge, Alex was very adamant in reminding me how open I am for lawsuits. Both private ones and from the government, like they could potentially sue me for stuff they ask me to do! How crazy is that?"

"Did you sign it already? I could go over it to make sure they don't put any peculiar articles or subsections."

"It's ok, Alex is still in touch with Lucy Lane. They went over the contract together several times before presenting it to me. Lucy is really good with this stuff." She reassured her.

"So you're a government official?"

"Yeah, free from any Supergirl related lawsuits, and with some pretty sweet tax benefits. Plus all of the salary they wanted to give me is going to go to different kinds of selected charities of my choosing, so that's awesome."

"I'm glad it all worked out."

"Me too." Kara breathed in relief.

"I have some news, too." Lena said as an excited smile spread on her face.

"Do tell," Kara said, biting her lip as a smile matching Lena started spreading.

"Okay, while you were off signing what was no doubt a mountain of paperwork," Kara nodded, "I found and fixed the problem with the distributor." Lena proclaimed proudly.

"What was the problem?" Kara asked, matching her excitement.

"We switched the materials connecting it to the compressor, but not the ones connected to the bio-terminal!" She explained quickly, her hands moving around in excited blur to match.

"Oh Rao! So it means–"

"We can start testing!"

"Ahh- Lena that's amazing!" Kara crushed into her best friend, giving her the big tight hug she deserves. She absolutely loved hugging Lena, really she took any opportunity she got. Feeling her warp around her tightly as if not wanting to let go, her smell that somehow always smelled amazing and feeling her heartbeat so close to hers. Hugging Lena was amazing, and she really deserved the most amazing hug after that discovery.

"Wait, we don't have their DNA to test it with." Kara noted once they pulled away.

"It's just a test to see if it can even process something like that, It doesn't have to be theirs. We already have exactly what we need." Lena explained.

"What do you mean?" Kara was confused, they didn't collect any DNA ahead of time.

"Samples of two specimens of the same biological sex, not to mention a combination of human and non-human DNA." Lena smiled at her.

"Oh." The room suddenly felt hotter. "Yeah, no… yes I see. Yeah that- that would definitely work." They would be combining their DNA. She and Lena. Their biological data would be combined. Kara felt very normal about this.

"Will you be able to extract some of your blood? If not, we can try saliva." Lena asked and she started to look around for the tubes.

"I think I can," Kara answered, looking at her fingers in an attempt to decide which one would be easier to cut. It's not like she would have to worry about the long term effect of the wound as it would heal once she stepped out into the sun.

Lena was already grabbing a syringe by the time Kara decided to go with her thumb, hoping to make the surface of the wound big enough to extract more blood.

She checked with her tongue to see which of her teeth is the sharpest –her upper left fang, and attempted her first try. It was painful, yet unsuccessful. She braced herself for the unavailable pain and tried again. The metallic taste in her mouth paired with the pounding pain in her finger told her she was successful. She took out her thumb and tried to lift it in a way that no blood would spill out. She held it above the tube Lena handed to her, letting the small drops fill it as much as she could, squeezing a bit despite the pain, until she was satisfied with the amount.

A quick walk to the window, letting the reflected rays of the sunshine upon her finger, fixed the little cut she created. She only wished Lena had similar powers. The syringe made her cut relatively small, but a cut was still a cut in Kara’s book. Lena was pressing a small piece of cotton to her arm, holding it tightly as she worked.

Kara walked closer to her. She was healed at this point and just as familiar with the machine as Lena, it was her turn to put on some work. She took Lenas wounded arm and gave it a small kiss to make it better. Lena's cheeks were immediately coloured with a light share of pink.

"All better now." Kara smiled at her. "Do you mind if I take it from here? You can keep pressing on the arm."

Lena simply nodded.

Inserting their blood samples carefully, Kara directed the machine to start the process. It was odd, she thought to herself, seeing all of the biological specification options for the combined data of her and Lena's DNA. Afraid to make a mistake, she slowly pressed on each button, choosing to unspecify everything before starting the process.

Kara looked at Lena with an exciting smile, biting down both her upper and bottom lips in the anticipation.

"And now we wait." Lena smiled back.

They watched in silence as the machine processed their data, searching for any errors or possible problems. They went through the math and the coding multiple times, they were at the very least confident in their work. The test was not to see a baby going through a full term, that process would take a few months even in their very advanced machine. Not to mention that due to the possibility of success, they knew that their first test subject should be for people who would be willing parents. So the test itself was only to see if the machine can prepare their given data to what could later become an embryo and then a healthy fetus should they choose to continue.

The process bar got closer to the end. No errors yet.

Lena was still pressing on her wound as she followed the process bar closely with her eyes. Kara wasn't sure if it was worry, tension or excitement on her face. Probably a combination of the three. She couldn't say she was faring any better, chewing in her bottom lip with similar emotions.

The bar got closer to the end. 97%, 98%, 99%, 100%.

Kara instinctively inhaled quickly. Holding her breath until the bar disappeared completely, replaced by a 'process complete' message on the screen.

"Oh my god!" She heard Lena exhale in relief.

"It worked!" Kara turned to face her, mouth wide open in shock and excitement.

"It did!" Lena confirmed in amazement.

They were hugging again before Kara fully realised she was doing it. Jumping in excitement in Lena’s arms as the latter laughed in response. When she settled down she noticed how close their faces were to each other, she could feel the heat radiating off of Lena's face warm her own. Suddenly their excited hearts became louder to her ears as she watched Lena wet her own lips. Kara instinctively mimicked the movement. They stayed like that for a moment, before Lena suddenly pulled away. Kara felt a pang of disappointment she could not name.

"I should check on this one project before I leave for today. Could you finish everything here?" Lena hurried to find her back, refusing to meet Kara's eyes.

"Sure," she had no problem wrapping everything herself. "What do you want to do with the PF?" It was the name they decided on for a successful processed DNA combination, a shorthand for Potential Fetus.

"It's not important, you can dispose of it." Lena finished collecting her stuff and exited before Kara could respond.

"Right." She muttered to the empty room. The project she went to check on must've been important.

Kara turned her attention back to the machine. She was familiar with the options, she designed the UI herself after all, yet they gave her pause. The button to proceed to the next stage had somehow become the most fascinating thing in the world. Flash images of small hands, a wild patch of dark hair and big striking green eyes passed through her mind in quick succession. She only noticed she clicked the button once a warning message asking her if she was sure she'd like to proceed popped up on the screen. Small panic went through her body as she realised what she almost did, Rao she almost greenlighted the creation of a baby for her and Lena.

She quickly pressed no, and moved on to check the other options. She had no need to restart the process to respect the bio-data for the PF, nor make changes to the DNA. She stared at the button to terminate the PF and all data related to it, but couldn't bring herself to do it. The images flashed her mind again. She wasn't sure what it was but she couldn't bring herself to do it, she couldn't press the button.

A message from Lena asking if she wanted a ride home made her notice the time. She sent her a quick message saying she would be right there, and turned back to the machine. Kara made a quick decision to store the data for later use, just in case they wanted to reexamine it, of course. Plus it was their first success, it could also be a reminder of their progress.

Kara finished turning off whatever unnecessary parts to keep the power consumption at a minimum, went over everything twice and spared a moment to stare at the container, before she left.

The images followed her to her dream that night, along with a familiar dimpled smile by her side.

Read in order in AO3

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hi Elanor, we met briefly on the taping of your husband's fringe show and you were super nice, no good deed etc. I'm pretty sure I've seen you post about lecturing at a uni.

I've been thinking about heading back to uni for a master's, with the possibility of a career shift into academia after, but I'm somewhat wary of the lack of job security with fixed term contracts and such, and just generally unsure how one goes about getting a job teaching at uni. Most people I know in academia are primarily interested in research, with the idea of lecturing being mostly incidental, I'm almost the other way around.

How did you get started in your field, and how much of that do you think applies to new entrants today? Did you have to/get to make a choice between research and lecturing? Any insight you might have, or a starting point for further research would be greatly appreciated.

Hello again! It was lovely meeting you!

Sure, yes, so, my path in began as an HPL - an hourly paid lecturer. A colleague on my old degree course was signed off work with stress, so another old lecturer of mine was asking if any graduates wanted to do a bit of lecturing to cover him. It coincided with my job losing its main funding and so going to part time hours, so it worked.

It started as one module for one semester. Which became the module for the year, then two and a half the following year, then four the next two years. And then, under UK law, if you hold an HPL contract with the same institution for four years, they have to give you a proper contract, so now I'm on a permanent four days a week with full lecturer status.

And then if you do it that way round i.e. become a lecturer before holding a teaching qualification, the uni will pay to put you through a PCET - I'm due to finish my PCET in May this year.

HPL work... Well. There are advantages and disadvantages to this approach. HPLs are the lecturing equivalent of hospital cleaning staff - absolutely vital and chronically overlooked and underpaid. It's a zero hours position, so you get paid only for the time you spend actually delivering the lectures, at a rate (IIRC it was about £33 per hour?) that assumes one hour's prep for every two hours lecture. Needless to say, prepping a two hour lecture takes longer than an hour. You also don't get paid for the marking you do, and you receive basically no guidance on how to actually teach - best case scenario is that they can give you copies of the lecture slides used by previous academics in the role, which you can use as a guide or amend to your liking. And the final topping on the shit cake is that HPL contracts run for a semester at a time, so they very much fall into the 'precarious employment' bracket.

But, as I say, you can very quickly make yourself indispensable, and then after four years they have to give you a contract. Or, you just do it to mine it for the experience for a CV. I've known people who did HPL work for two unis at once while studying a PCET and then walked into a proper position in a third elsewhere.

Because the other root is to get a Masters, get a PCET (as part of which you need to do a placement anyway), and then apply for lecturer roles. Again, advantages and disadvantages - these days, lecturer roles are hotly contested. But it's very possible, I know many who have done it.

So! Regarding the other part of your question!

Some universities are more teaching focused, others are more research focused, some are a bit of both. If you know that the main thing you want to do is the teaching part, then you want to give priority to the universities that are more teaching focused themselves. These are usually the non-Russell Group prestigious ones, particularly the ones with a slightly more local student body. Anything with a qualifier like 'Metropolitan' after its name, either now or in the recent past, is a good idea - in Wales, for example, UWTSD includes the old Swansea Met, USW includes the old Cardiff Met, etc. Those are more teaching focused institutions (and therefore better at serving non traditional students, too, especially disabled ones), so in career terms, those are handy to shoot for.

(Also, those can have high turnovers of research academics by contrast. So it's usually relatively easy to get HPL work from them to plug employment gaps.)

Anyway - that's me. Good luck if you do decide to try it! Let me know if you have any other questions

[unlikelyfanhairdoalmond]

Oh my, so interesting what he explains about him and Téa. 🥹 So happy for them, and for him to have found someone like this. ❤️

[VIDEO BELOW - New interview with Kara]

Kara : How are things with your accomplice?? How is your accomplice?

Tim : She’s a miracle. I never thought that I would experience something like that at my age. And I had sort of come to terms with like maybe being alone or maybe being some kind of casual thing that wasn’t really too demanding and then we met and it all changed! It is the deepest, most fun, most truly intimate relationship I’ve ever had.

Kara : so why do you think that is? What’s different? What makes it like that?

Tim : […] We want someone to see us. And if we get into a place where we allow someone to really see us, everything, and they can look at that and say ‘Ok, ‘I’m okay with this. All this good stuff and all that bad stuff’ then it’s like a profound relief to be able to be your entire self and know that someone is not gonna blame you or try to change you in a way that’s punishing or belittle you for the things that you have that are human flaws; but you know, try to help you and try to encourage you to improve without trying to fix you. So, all that stuff.

Kara : So, there’s something about her that helped you trust that she would do that, be like that with you? Or were you at a time in your life where you were ready to expose yourself in that way?

Tim : All of the above. And, talking about fear, I was terrified because basically she said to me ‘Give it all, give me everything. Tell me the whole story, all the shit, all the stuff you’ve done you’re not proud of, you’re ashamed of, just tell me and I’ll deal with it’. And I was like ‘okay…’ thinking that perhaps I would get annihilated, you know, that I would step on the landmine the was in the mine field or the eggshells that was out there. I took that risk and I laid it all out and she was like ‘okay. Let’s do this’. Wow, you know and… [getting emotional]. It was and has been an amazing thing and feels not punishing at all. And… some of my relationships I’ve felt punished.

Kara : Right, which would make you think that future relationship would as well, because it was your history, it’s what you knew.

[…]

Kara : You and Téa met when you were on ‘Madam Secretary’. I don’t know if you met before that but that’s when you started becoming intimate. That ended like years ago now. How many years has it been?

Tim : Four years, five years, something like that.

Kara : So, it’s interesting that you are great with that situation, and your environment now is totally different; you’re not working together. And has it changed at all? Was it more something then or more something now?

Tim : That’s better. That’s better now. Yeah, you know, it’s funny because I’m pretty sure there were a lot of eyes rolling on set and lots of nervous people going like ‘Oh God, when that blows up it’s gonna be a disaster. Oh, on set romance…’ And we were a little bit before #MeToo so we could have our romance without being so careful about it, and all this stuff, and there was, I’m not sure if it’s actually called this, it’s called a ‘Love contract’ that you were supposed to fill out for CBS saying ‘We are in a relationship, we work together so if things go badly, we’re not gonna bring it to work’ but we never did.

Kara : Oh, you never signed it?

Tim: No, we never signed it and we never brought our shit to work.

Kara : Very good. There’s something going on that you’ve decided, you’ve approached the whole thing in a healthy way it seems like, to me […].

Tim : It’s pretty spectacular.

Kara : I also love the fact that she said ‘Give me all of it?’. Like she literally said that?

Tim : Yeah. It’s funny also, and so surprising for me. I showed up for work one day at Madam Secretary and I opened the door to my dressing room and there were like 25 pairs of high heel shoes and all this lingerie and I was like ‘What’s happening here?’ And Téa is like ‘Why do we have separate dressing rooms? I’ll just be in here.’ And first I was like ‘Wait, my space, etc.’ and I was like ‘No, she wants to be with me so badly that she’s moved her high heels into my room, so I better take this, this is a good thing.’ And her dressing room turned into a place where we would take naps. At lunchtime, we looked like cadavers. We would lie next to each other and just pass out for about 18 to 20 minutes, we got so good at it, and then we could continue on with our day.

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds - Chapter Six

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Word Count: 7105 Rating: General Summary: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone... Content Warnings: None! Author's Note:  Nice to meet a few more Mando characters in this chapter. Din has a cruuuuuuuuush. Also, I love writing Peli and Din's relationship in any universe. Thanks for all the comments and love you're showing to this baby so far, it means the world! Huge thanks also to the wonderful @suresnips for being my beta! ♡

6. With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]

For the first few weeks while the third season of The Mandalorian had been in pre-production, things were a little haphazard in terms of personnel that were present in the studios – known as The Volume – where the show was filmed. Din appreciated the sparsely populated studios. After all, less people meant less opportunities for someone to scrutinise his identity. Although Peli Motto, the person he was closest to on the cast, had been present and the two had hung out in Din’s trailer plenty of times, there had been markedly fewer people than usual wandering around the studios. 

Now, however, it was Monday morning and the first week of filming was set to begin. That brought more people to The Volume. A lot more. 

Din considered that he should have been used to it by now. It was, after all, the third season of the show. So far, his identity had successfully remained the closely guarded secret that he wanted it to be. Much of that was thanks to the showrunners, Jim and Dale. They were, after all, the only people present at The Volume at any given moment who had any idea of Din’s identity. That was a thought that both comforted him and made him nervous.

It was reassuring to know how closely they had guarded Din’s secret and abided by his wishes. Of course, some of that was motivated by the legal trouble they could become embroiled in should they ever reveal Din’s identity without his consent. But Din often thought fondly of how understanding the two men were throughout the sordid process of negotiating the contract with Disney. Jim and Dale had both pushed for Din to be The Mandalorian, insisting that, for them, there would be no second choice. It was Din or nothing. 

Disney's eventual decision to accept the anonymity clause had been mostly motivated by how much Jim and Dale had stood by Din during discussions and how much they had wanted him as Mando in the first place. It was a debt that Din knew he could never truly repay to the two men who had flown in from Los Angeles over the weekend, ready for production to properly get underway. Din was looking forward to catching up with the two of them, who always made an effort to check in with him and inquire about how he and Grogu were adapting to life in a new country. Indeed, it was the two of them who had put Din in contact with a woman called Fennec Shand, who worked for the production company. It was her job to make sure Din and Grogu were sufficiently settled. Fennec often organised excursions, including the tour Din had enjoyed with Grogu at the British Museum on Friday night.

It was that very tour which Din had spent the majority of his weekend thinking about rather than mentally preparing for the intense filming schedule which lay ahead of him. Din was unsure whether he believed in fate, or destiny. But surely encountering her again, the girl who he had felt instantly drawn to after her eloquent speech in his defence at ForceCon, had not been a coincidence. As he stood there in the crowded hall, watching her disappear into the crowd, Din had wished against all probabilities that he could just see her again, one more time. Lo and behold, a few days later, there she was. Din did more than see her again. This time, he was free to interact with her without the confines of his armour and helmet. He marvelled as she shared her knowledge, expertise and showed an incredible amount of patience and understanding towards Grogu especially.

It was seeing her interact with Grogu that had really meant everything to Din. He already knew, after her speech, that she possessed many qualities that he valued in a person. However, to witness the compassion and patience she had extended to the nervous little boy, even after Grogu had caused somewhat of a commotion, it was difficult for Din to quantify just how much that simple act of understanding meant to him. 

Now that he had crossed paths with her again, Din knew that she was a presence that he wanted in his life going forward. Equally, Din knew that it would probably be immoral of him to explore something with the girl. There was no way he could be completely honest with her about his identity, certainly not while they were still getting to know each other. That meant Din would inevitably have to lie while he evaluated whether he could trust her with his secret.

Then there was the question of how she would feel should she ever find out that he had been untruthful. Lying was not in Din Djarin’s nature; he never wanted to lie to her, he knew that would likely cause hurt further down the line. How would she feel if she ever found out that he was keeping such an enormous secret from her?

Despite the moral dilemma, Din kept returning to how he had felt when they were together. The rush that Din had when he was in her presence was indescribable. He felt a genuine connection with her immediately, despite how aloof he had probably appeared when she first walked up to him and Grogu. The sight of her had knocked all air out of his lungs even with all of the training he had to maintain his composure. 

But then there was the thrill that Din had actually been able to talk to her and look at her without the confines of his helmet, all while knowing that she was seeing him for who he was and getting to know him as the man, rather than The Mandalorian. It was an enthralling experience. 

So, Din had spent the majority of the weekend pondering his next move. Of course, he could return to the museum and ask after her, but Din feared that would be inappropriate and overstepping his boundaries. He wondered whether he should hang around the museum at closing time and wait for her to emerge. He wanted her to know precisely how much the time they had spent together had meant to him. Above all, Din wanted to continue getting to know her and determine whether the two of them could build a future together.

With all thoughts of how to make the next move, Din knew he was a little distracted. Which wasn’t exactly ideal right before an intense filming schedule got underway. Despite the fact that he was now onset and should be in full Mando mode, Din found that as he sat there in his trailer with Grogu, he was still distracted. His mind remained firmly fixated on the incredible girl from the museum that he wanted to know better. 

A knock at the door pulled Din from his musings and he grabbed his helmet before unlocking the door. The familiar, tanned face and dark brown eyes of the man who cared for Grogu onset, called Iggy, greeted Din.

“Hi Mando,” Iggy chirped, “I’ve been sent to care for Grogu.”

“I thought I wasn’t due on set yet?” Din replied, slightly taken aback at his presence.

“Oh, you’re not. But Jim and Dale have requested your presence in their office,” Iggy explained.

“Alright. Come in, Iggy,” Din opened the door further and waved the lanky man with messy black hair that stood up in various directions, into the room.

Meetings like this with Jim and Dale were not unheard of, so Din had no reason to be particularly troubled by the fact that he had been summoned to their office. But there was a feeling of nervousness that lingered in his gut at his presence being requested like this. Nevertheless, after saying goodbye to Grogu and leaving him happily drinking a carton of juice while resting on Iggy’s lap, Din made his way to Jim and Dale’s offices.

Din’s heart dropped when he saw the grim faces of the two men behind the desk of their office. Instantly, he knew that instinct in his gut was correct. Whatever the subject of this meeting was, it was going to be an uncomfortable one. At once, the worst possible scenarios began flicking through Din’s mind. Perhaps he had been summoned here so Jim and Dale could tell him that his role had been cut from the new season, they wanted to go in a different direction and needed someone who was willing to reveal his face. Din was trembling; he stood frozen inside the doorway as he felt as though everything was about to come crashing down all around him. 

Din felt sickened as he realised that his life, the one he had been building here with his son in the peaceful English countryside and the girl that he had met would, in a few moments, be cruelly ripped from him. Din was certain that the men before him were about to deliver a crushing blow as they informed him that he was no longer wanted for the role of The Mandalorian. The very role that he had been initially hesitant to accept, but had changed so many things for him. 

It was Jim’s voice who finally broke through his racing thoughts and compelled him to move.

“Take a seat, Din,” Jim offered, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the desk from where the two of them sat. 

Din apprehensively moved across the room and sat opposite the two men. The atmosphere was thick with an emotion that Din could not place, but judging by the glum, serious expressions that the two men before him wore, he knew in his gut that it was not positive. Din took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut beneath his helmet as he braced for impact.

“Din, we have some concerns that we just wanted to address with you before filming begins,” the cowboy-hat wearing co-creator, Dale, began speaking, his beady eyes peering out at Din from underneath his cowboy hat that was a permanent fixture on top of his head. “Do you have any idea what this could be about?”

Din’s heart was thundering so loudly that he was sure it must have been audible, reverberating off the Beskar. He shook his head slowly, completely taken off-guard by Dale’s question.

“Well, there have been a number of social media posts speculating that the real Mando was at ForceCon a couple weekends ago,” Jim explained. “Din… you wouldn’t happen to have any idea why people would think that, would you?

Din sighed deeply. The foolish decision that he had made without thinking it through because of Peli Motto, of all people, looked set to cost him dear. All he could do now was beg Jim and Dale for mercy, appeal to their humanity and let them know that it had just been a stupid mistake and nothing more. 

“Yes. I do know why…” Din sighed and braced himself for what he was about to admit, “it was me,” Din finished, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry if this has caused any headaches for you. I was not thinking clearly. Peli gave me an invitation and mentioned the con. My curiosity got the better of me. I truly apologise, from the bottom of my heart.”

“Thank you for owning up to it, Din,” Dale said and for the first time his expression shifted into something other than a frown. It didn’t fill Din with much more confidence and Dale wasn’t suddenly smiling, but at least it was slightly more reassuring than the stony-faced expressions that he had initially been greeted with.

“Look, Din. We respect your reasoning absolutely for not revealing yourself to the public. If you’ll remember, we backed you the entire way during the negotiations with Disney,” Jim explained, using his hands to emphasise his point. “ choosing to go to a convention like that? Man, what were you thinking?! Your cover could have easily been blown.” 

“I mean, that was really dangerous. There were the biggest fans in the world there, thousands and thousands of them. We went for an appearance and it was crazy, the levels of fanaticism,” Dale added and Din internally cringed, not realising just how many layers of danger he had placed himself in. “The photos of your costume went viral, we had to get someone from the PR team to create a fake account on social media claiming that they were the person behind the cosplay so the fans had an explanation. It had to come from somewhere. I just… I really don’t know what you were thinking, Din.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t thinking,” Din swallowed, suddenly feeling incredibly ashamed at his recklessness. It was so unlike him. But he seized the opportunity to defend himself. After all, if Jim and Dale had really called him in here to fire him, he at least wanted to say his piece before they delivered such a crushing blow. “A castmate enthused to me about the con and she handed me some passes that the organisers had sent her. My curiosity got the better of me. I know how… things got out of hand after my appearance at the hospital. I should have consulted with you both first. I’m sorry.” Din said earnestly, although he was thankful that his helmet was covering his face. Din was unused to handling sensitive conversations like this face to face and his cheeks were burning an embarrassing shade of red beneath his helmet.

Jim and Dale glanced at each other in some wordless form of communication, which Din was unable to decipher. He felt his already sweaty palms moisten further in the leather gloves that he was wearing. Regardless of what it meant, Din knew that the look did not fill him with much confidence and he suddenly felt an overwhelming need to defend himself further.

“Look, if my actions in going to the convention were… a step too far and my position is now untenable, then I suppose I understand. I’ll be disappointed, of course, and firing me would uproot Grogu’s life too. But he’ll get over it. We all do,” Din said quietly, as much for his own benefit as Jim and Dale’s

“Fire you? Din Djarin, you are The Mandalorian!” Jim exclaimed, clearly incredulous at the notion that they would ever contemplate such an action. “Without you, this show would not be possible. We didn’t call you into this meeting to lecture you, I apologise if you were under that impression.”

“Yeah, the absolute last thing we would want to do is bring you any additional stress right before we begin such a busy period of filming. Jim and I were just concerned for you. Din, we don’t want you to be exposed before you are ready for the world to know who you are, if that time ever comes. The precautions that we have in place for you are unprecedented, there is nothing else like it. The amount of NDAs, the security around the studio, the way you travel to work and hide your face constantly. It is a new experience for all of us. I’ve been in this industry for many years and when you came to us with your demands of privacy… Well, we’d never encountered anything like it. But we’re in this together. You’re worth this, Din.” Dale said, his reassuring words comforted Din instantly.

“Thank you,” Din said, voice suddenly thick with emotion.

“If there’s anything at all we can help you with, you know you can always talk to us. No problem is too insignificant,” Jim said, kindly. “How was the museum visit, by the way? Did you and Grogu have fun?”

Din was once again thankful that the helmet was covering his blushes. Jim’s question forced him to cast his mind back to the museum, to her…

“It was wonderful, thanks,” Din breathed. “Grogu and I learnt a lot. I appreciate the excursions you two and Fennec organise for us.”

“You’re welcome, Din. Anything we can do to help you feel settled,” Jim nodded. “If you ever want to organise one yourself, you know you can contact Fennec. Her job is to assist you and always make sure that you and Grogu are happy and settled.”

“I appreciate that. Really, it means a lot,” Din said appreciatively. “Being here in a new country with Grogu is always a little lonely, but the visits help.”

“Well, if you ever want to organise any more, don’t be afraid to contact Fennec,” Jim nodded.

“Are you going to be okay with filming today?” Dale asked

“Yes,” Din said instantly. 

Din knew that his head was probably elsewhere, but there was no way he would ever let down anyone else by refusing to film. Although he knew that there were plenty of intense action scenes and stunts that he would have to perform on this particular filming day that would take maximum concentration, Din was confident in his abilities to see them through. They were scenes that Din should be able to film in his sleep, with stunts that were as natural to him as an intake of breath.

The reality, though, of standing there in front of a set full of people looking at him expectantly was quite different. Din was hoping that by falling back into the routine of filming, that he would soon be distracted from the thoughts of the girl from the panel and the museum that had been racing through his mind since Friday.

He could not forget the glances she had thrown his way, the way her eyes lingered on him and the noticeable loss of her composure after he had compared her to the beautiful exhibits. Din was in awe of her knowledge about everything in the museum, the way she had shared it without being patronising. She was passionate, not arrogant, and had shown such patience and kindness to Grogu.

Din knew that he had to concentrate. Every take that he messed up inevitably cost money. But more than the financial repercussions, Din wanted to set the tone of filming for season three to a positive, productive one. Yet the ongoing dilemma of what to do going forward regarding his feelings for the girl were continuing to trouble Din.

It was a simple scene, in comparison to some of the intricate stunts with multiple moving parts that Din had to film in the past. All he had to do was fling himself across a cantina bar and punch a couple of aliens in the face. It was a move he had done hundreds of times in his life, both as The Mandalorian and in the life of violence he had known before Grogu. But today, Din could not get it right.

Din had reassured the director and stunt coordinator that he knew what was expected of him after he missed the first couple of takes, which was wholly uncharacteristic of someone who was usually as efficient as Din prided himself on being. It wasn’t a lie, either; Din knew exactly what was expected of him. 

It was not his body that was failing him, it was his mind that was distracted, centred on events and people far away from this set. As he set himself for the latest take, crouching slightly and anticipating the vocal cue that would signal when he needed to move, Din shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He focused on his breathing, attempting to centre himself in the Star Wars galaxy and embody the formidable, ruthless bounty hunter that he was meant to be.

But it was hopeless. When Din closed his eyes, he only saw her face. The take began, but he could not stop thinking about her. About how much he wanted to see her again and how he would do whatever it took to cross paths with her and let her know how important she was to him. 

“CUT!” the shout from the director startled Din out of the trance he had seemingly entered into once again. 

Din looked around then, and noticed the annoyed faces of the cast and crew. At first, they had been patient with him and tried to hide their disdain. Now, though, it was plain to see how disappointed they were with Din’s lack of composure. He felt awful, as though he was wasting everyone’s time. He knew he needed to get a grip. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Din said apologetically, after messing up the take yet again. “I really don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” he murmured dismissively, although Din knew full well exactly what the cause for his sudden lack of professionalism was. 

“Look, Mando, it’s fine,” the director, a man called Gideon, said in his distinctive husky tones as he wandered towards Din. “We’ll take an early break, you can go back to your trailer, get something to eat and then we’ll give this another go after lunch. We all have off days. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you,” Din said quietly, appreciative of the understanding and compassion that Gideon had shown him. 

The two had occasionally had their own creative differences and disagreements and Din was certain that he would not be friends with him outside of work. But within The Volume, they were amicable, at the very least. There was mutual respect there and a begrudging fondness that neither would admit to the other. When all was said and done, though, Din knew that Gideon wanted the best for the show and ultimately that meant working with Din, rather than against him.

Din retreated to his room, proverbial tail between his legs. He was disappointed in himself for inconveniencing everyone. Although, he at least had Jim’s comforting words to focus on. Din knew he was The Mandalorian, he had put a little bit of his soul into this character. No one would ever be able to take that away from him, bad day or not.

Din was optimistic that a bit of downtime with Grogu and some food would revitalise him and leave him able to complete his scenes in the afternoon. Walking through the door of his trailer, which was more like a comfortable suite of a hotel room in a corner of the building than a traditional trailer, to see the smiling face of his son lifted Din’s spirits already.

The room that Din had to relax in between takes was a windowless room, tucked in the corner of the studios, that had at first evoked feelings of claustrophobia, but now Din appreciated for the privacy it afforded him and Grogu. A lack of natural light was a hardship he was more than prepared to bear to maintain his privacy.

Iggy and Grogu were sprawled out on their stomachs, a box of felt tip pens was open and Din watched with pride as his son focused on the picture before him. Din could see a sliver of pink as Grogu stuck his tongue out and furrowed his brow in concentration. Iggy sat up as soon as Din walked through the door, nodding at the Mandalorian who loomed over him. 

“Hi Mando! Didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Iggy smiled. “Grogu and I have spent the morning doing some colouring in. He did really well, I’m sure he can’t wait to show you what he made!”

“Wonderful, I’m looking forward to seeing it,” Din said, nodding proudly at his son. “Thanks, Iggy.”

“No problem!” Iggy beamed as he stood up. “Well, I’ll leave the two of you to your lunch. I'll be back when it's time to go to set!”

The lock of the door clicking the shut symbolised that Iggy was gone and Din was finally alone with his son. He promptly removed his helmet, relieved to finally feel the air on his face once more. Din picked Grogu and his colouring book up and made his way over to the sofa, sitting Grogu in his lap, ready to appreciate his son's creations. Din had hoped that just the two of them together might have gone some way to calming his frayed nerves. But despite the overwhelming calmness and sense of purpose that Din felt whenever he was in Grogu’s presence, and even as his son proudly showed him the pages of the colouring book he had completed, Din still could not relax.

“They look amazing, buddy,” Din praised as Grogu showed him a page which, coincidentally, showed a rhinoceros. 

Din was fairly certain that rhinos were not purple with bright red spots, and even though the scrawled swirls ventured outside the lines in plenty of places, Din did not care. He was endlessly proud of his son, to him it was a greater masterpiece than Dürer’s rhino. To most people, it was just a messy, childish scribble, but Din believed that it belonged amongst the finest exhibits in the British Museum. There he was, thinking of her again.

Grogu excitedly showed Din a few more of his colourings, before Din decided it was time for the two of them to eat some lunch. Keeping his identity secret meant that Din could not eat at craft services with the rest of the cast, it would have been impractical to eat underneath his helmet in any case. But Din relished the meals he shared with Grogu in the little room together, it was a way for them to bond and a way for Din to ground himself in the middle of the day, amongst all the chaos that being on set usually brought. 

After helping himself to the platter of fruit that had been left, as usual, in his room and ensuring Grogu ate something too – despite Din’s efforts to expand his son’s palette, Grogu only wanted his favourite animal crackers – Din sprawled out on the couch. With the comforting weight of his boy on his chest, making Din’s heart soar as he stared up at him with big brown eyes, Din finally felt at peace for the first time all day. His mind was no longer racing over his dilemma, he just appreciated the comfort that time with Grogu brought him.

Din momentarily forgot the inner turmoil that was being waged within him in a battle between his head and his heart. For one second, he did not feel completely torn over what to do next. He was so relaxed that the outline of Grogu’s face gradually became more distorted, as Din’s eyelids grew heavy…

The banging on the door an indeterminate amount of time later roused Din from the slumber that he had unintentionally drifted off into. 

“Hey Mando! Can I come in?” A familiar voice sounded from the other side of the door. It was Peli Motto.

“Give me a second,” Din replied as he sat up, careful not to disturb Grogu, who he removed from his chest and gently placed on the couch. 

Din reflexively reached for his helmet from the floor and secured it on his head. He padded across the room and unlocked the door, feeling instantly brighter when he saw the brown eyes and wild curls of his favourite co-star staring back at him from the hallway. Peli’s presence always cheered him up, even on his darkest days.

“Word on the street is that you aren’t having the best day. What’s up, Mando? Something wrong with Grogu?” Peli asked concernedly. Although Din suspected that she was as keen to get in on the latest gossip as she was genuinely concerned for him. 

“No, Grogu is fine,” Din shook his head as he stepped back from the door to allow Peli inside the room.

“There he is!” Peli cooed as she walked towards the sofa and scooped Grogu up into her arms. Peli hugged him tightly and Grogu chirped happily, having awoken from his nap when he was moved, despite Din’s best efforts. “My favourite little guy, how are ya?” Peli cooed.

Grogu let out a delighted noise and Din felt his heart swell as he stood back, observing the two of them interact. He loved how close Peli was to his son. There were not many people Din trusted with his boy, but Peli was absolutely one of them. He was grateful for Peli’s presence in their lives, especially when adjusting to a brand new country and environment. Both Din and Grogu needed someone in their lives who was a comforting, uplifting presence and Peli filled that void perfectly. 

Despite how kooky and extroverted Peli was, in contrast to the quiet, methodical way Din conducted his business: if it ever came to it, Din knew that he would trust Peli with his life and even with Grogu’s life. In his bones, Din knew that he trusted her entirely. If anything, Peli was the person on the cast that he was most likely to reveal his identity to. Unfortunately, Peli possessed the loudest mouth on this planet, so Din was realistic about the odds of that ever happening: they ranged from slim to none. 

“Grogu is fine,” Din sighed. “It’s me…” 

“Oh quit moping, Mando. You’ll rust!” Peli said jokingly.

Din smirked beneath his helmet at her directness. He was unaccustomed to having people like this in his life who would speak to him so directly, without filter. But it was something that he had found he had been missing out on, he thoroughly enjoyed the way Peli would banter with him. At first, he had found the curly-haired woman a tad overbearing. But now, as she sat here in the brown overalls of her costume on the couch in his room, he realised just how much he had come to care about the woman. Even if the reason for his distress was partially her fault, to begin with.

“No seriously, bud. What’s up? I hate seeing you like this.” Peli said, sympathetically. “And if you don’t get your act together, we’ll all be stuck on this set for much longer than I’d like. I have two cats that miss me very much in Los Angeles, thank you very much.”

In typical Peli fashion, she could not resist gently ribbing him after any genuine concern was shown. But Din didn’t mind it. Emotions were a mildly terrifying concept to the man who had spent so much of his life alone.

“It’s all your fault, really,” Din said lightly.

“My fault?! Wait… please don’t tell me you saw that video. It was ONE time, okay!” Peli lifted her hand defensively.

Din just shook his head, having no idea what she was talking about. Whatever it was, Din was fairly certain that he did not want to know.

“No, Peli… I didn’t see any videos…”

“Good, mister. You better keep it that way,” Peli said sternly as she jabbed a finger in Din’s direction. “Now, do you want to talk about it? I’m here for ya, Mando.”

“Well, it’s kind of a crazy story. It all began after that conversation we had about that convention that was coming up. I wanted to try and see what all the fuss was about and also give something back to the fans, I guess. Make a few people’s day, take some pictures…” 

“That was you?!” Peli exclaimed, excitedly. “I knew it! What did you think of the con?”

“I hated it at first. It was horrendously busy. I probably would have left, but for an encounter I had. It opened my eyes up to how much people love Mando. It was… nice to feel their love and appreciation for the character.”

“I can’t believe you actually went…” Peli whispered, shaking her head in awe.

“Well, it was an incredibly reckless move in hindsight. Jim and Dale called me into their office to warn me against doing such a thing in future. The costume went viral and they had to make some fake social media profiles allegedly, to claim the costume…”

“That’s insane!” Peli squealed. “Oh yeah, it was everywhere online this week. I’m not surprised they had to do that, so many people were tweeting me, convinced it was the real Mando.”

Din cringed at her words, feeling terribly embarrassed once again at how much inconvenience his moment of recklessness had caused. He sat there for a few moments, trying to adjust to the information and take onboard how close he had come to having his cover blown. 

“That’s not why you can’t do the stunts, though, is it?” Peli questioned and Din marvelled once again at how much she saw him, despite having never laid eyes upon his face.

“No, you’re right. It isn’t,” Din conceded. “While I was at the convention, I attended this panel. It was right at the back of the convention hall, but it stood out to me. It was called ‘The Man behind the Mandalorian: Exploring the Identity of the Galaxy’s Best Bounty Hunter,’ and it was hosted by an awful man. A man who was way too old to be wearing a backwards baseball cap, but I digress,” Din grumbled, still caught up on how ridiculous the guy had looked as he sat there, thinking he was the greatest man on earth. “Well, the panel was pretty much just praising the violence of the show and how good Mando is at fighting. Pretty surface-level stuff. There were some criticisms in there, but I could take it, you know. They were still mostly aimed at the show. But then… he opened the floor up to questions at the end and things began to get nasty. People were making all kinds of personal insults about me, about the character. Calling me a diva and saying that I must be a nightmare to work with if I won’t show my face to anyone.”

“Awww, Mando. That sounds awful, it must have been really hard for you,” Peli soothed. She reached out to pat Din’s arm beneath his pauldron. The contact made him jump at first, but he soon melted into the reassuring touch. “You are the furthest thing from a diva. I know I tease you a lot, but I genuinely think you’re a great guy. I really care about you and the kid. Even though I don’t know what you look like. I mean, you could look like an ingrown toenail under there. How would I know?!” Peli joked and Din found himself laughing at that, despite the inner turmoil that still waged inside him. “Look, I still treat you so kindly, aren’t I nice?” Peli added, even though they were both well-aware of how much she teased Din. 

“Thanks, Peli,” Din said appreciatively, his voice full of the genuine mirth that her comments had provoked in him.

Giggling like this with Peli was a brief moment of welcome relief and Din’s shoulders dropped a little from the tense position they had been frozen in through most of the conversation. But Din knew the lighthearted moment was fleeting. He still had to explain to Peli the reason for his tormented state.

“It wasn’t the things that were said at the panel that caused all this though,” Din sighed, taking a deep breath as he braced himself to explain the cause of his current state of mind. “Don’t get me wrong, I was having a terrible, awful time. I really wanted to leave. I was about to. But then, this girl stood up. She… she marched right to the mic. I could tell she was a little bit nervous, but she spoke so passionately about me and the show and she stood up for me. Not just as Mando but also as… me. Even though she didn’t know anything about me, she still respected my right to privacy. It felt incredible… her words, they soothed my soul.”

“Oh! Mando has a crush!” Peli said in a teasing, sing-song voice.

Din just tilted his helmet to one side, conveying his disapproval. It was a part of Din that had found its way into the show. Mando was always conveying his disdain for others with a simple tilt of the head, but that mannerism was one hundred per cent a Din Djarin move.

“Sorry. Continue,” Peli said, waving her hand as if to encourage him.

“Thank you. Well, the way she made me feel, it was amazing, obviously,” Din admitted. He paused again, attempting to find the words to explain the rest of the story. “But that wasn’t the last time I saw her. After I left the panel, I went around the hall, taking photos with panels. I was about to leave but then the girl and her friend stopped me for a picture. She was so sweet and polite. I couldn’t stop thinking about her for days… I felt certain that that was the last time I would ever see her…. But then….”

“Woah, hold on there. Look, if you’re gonna tell me about some illegal shit, I gotta get my lawyer on speakerphone. I can’t be a party to any criminal acts, I’m on very thin ice as it is, Mando. Please don’t tell me that you stalked her on social media and then tracked her down to her house and used the zoom on your phone to track her every move until the….” Peli yammered, but Din stopped her.

“What?! No. Of course not, Peli,” Din said, cutting his eccentric, curly-haired friend off mid-ramble and doing his best to ignore the oddly specific fear that she had.

“Oh…” Peli exhaled. “Well, in that case, please continue…”

“A few days later, one of the team here, on orders of Jim and Dale, organised a visit to the British Museum for Grogu and me. Imagine my surprise when the same girl ends up being our tour guide. Except, I went there without my helmet. I was just… me. The man behind the suit. She met me as me, not as Mando. It’s a mess,” Din sighed, his shoulders slumping forward again. “I like her and I’d like to see her again and get to know her. I think I felt a genuine connection there, and she was so great with Grogu. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her, Peli. But how can I… pursue anything? When she’s such a big fan of the show. It would feel strange… like I was taking advantage somehow. Plus, I can’t stand lying. I’d be hiding myself, hiding who I am. A massive part of me.”

“Oh, look at you, Mando. You big softie,” Peli smiled, looking at him adoringly. She was a few years older than Din and he had long sensed that she felt somewhat maternalistic towards him. Peli was looking at him with all the pride a mother might show when their child shows an interest in someone, with a hint of surprise there, too. It seemed that she had never considered that he could be the romantic type. 

“What do I do, Peli?” Din asked, desperately seeking the advice he needed to soothe his troubled soul.

“Well, firstly I don’t think you’re taking advantage of her. She doesn’t know you’re Mando. You might have started catching feelings for her when you saw her in that panel, but she doesn’t need to know that,” Peli advised. “I would say, you also don’t have to outright come out with the truth. You can just… skirt around it, I guess. She doesn’t have to know specifics about where you work, it’s just… keeping a secret or two, rather than lying.”

“What if she ever finds out that I’ve been keeping secrets?” Din asked, his voice full of apprehension at the idea.

“Well, hopefully you would have told her on your own terms long before that, once you felt comfortable enough and as though you could trust her. But, hopefully, if that happened… she would understand. Your life, I certainly don’t envy you Mando,” Peli admitted.

“There’s a lot to juggle,” Din confessed.

“I know, I can’t imagine the burden. You deserve nice things, Mando. You deserve a love story of your own. Just make sure she gets to know you for you. Not Mando, with no armour, just you… whoever you are beneath all that. Hell, I don’t even know!”

“Thanks, Peli,” Din smiled, feeling comforted by her words. For all of her eccentricity, Peli still had a heart of gold. “I’ve never really done this before, though. I mean… dated someone. I didn’t get her number after the tour but I’m sure I could get a message to her somehow. I was thinking about sending her a bunch of flowers, with a little note,” Din pondered. “Is that a thing people still do? She seems to be a bit younger than me, in her mid-twenties if I had to guess.”

“Mando! You really are the romantic type! I never would have guessed that from you!” Peli squealed. “She’s a very lucky gal, I’m sure that would be a very thoughtful gesture that would be appreciated by her. Go for it.”

“I will,” Din said, determinedly.

Peli lingered for a few more minutes, catching Din up on all of the gossip he had missed in craft services. Din didn’t particularly care for gossip, but somehow when it was Peli, it was endearing to listen to. Then the brown-overall wearing woman made her exit, mumbling about how she needed to head for a smoke before filming began again.

Din sat there for a few moments, smiling to himself in her wake. He knew that in a few minutes, Din would be summoned to set as Iggy would knock on his door ready to take care of Grogu. Din would have to face a room full of people who were at worst, annoyed and at best, concerned. He had to leave the room, projecting an air of strength and dependability that he was, as Mando. When he left the room, the transformation would be complete from doting father to feared, intergalactic bounty hunter. 

Din could have no distractions now. He knew what he needed to do, the talk with Peli had given him clarity and purpose and, bizarrely, the animal that Grogu had been colouring in had given him an idea. So, Din picked up the phone in his trailer and dialled the extension that took him through to the offices of Fennec Shand.

The phone rang once.

“Good afternoon Mando, how can I help you?” Fennec asked.

“Hi, Fennec,” Din replied. “Can you please get me the phone number for the best florist in London?”

Next Chapter

Taglist:@toxic-seduction @survivingandenduring @readingiskeepingmegoing

[threwedaway]

TW: SA, ABUSE

Someone said some victim blamer shit in my reblogs and that's an automatic no, but I needed to share... Because what the hell, man?

I got this reblog and I'm trying to keep my composure. This is probably going to be a rambling mess. I was just trying to make a fun little post about HuskerDust, but here we go!

I crossed out the name, because I don't know how old this person is and I don't know what their experiences are.

This will kind of go back and forth between Angel's situation and general information/experience. I think from what I've seen it won't resonate with everyone, but it is definitely within the realm of possibility and makes sense given his circumstances.

I also use the terms victim and survivor interchangeably as a fair warning.

I know there's been a lot of talk around victim blaming and this is blatant.

I'm aware this is a fictional character. I have, however, worked at multiple non-profits that focus on helping survivors of abuse and SA as well as being a victim myself. So, I am pissed beyond belief.

No one lets themselves be abused. Even in situations where someone resigns themselves to abuse, it is for their survival and safety. It is under duress and it is not someone letting themselves be abused. This person says Angel is doing an awful job saving himself, but in all reality he is attempting to keep himself as safe as he can in the environment he's in.

Husk isn't doing everything right and a relationship with the foundation of it being we both suck and we're both stuck in shitty situations isn't going to be stable, but as I said in my original post, he's telling Angel he's not alone. He's not doing that perfectly, but he's saying even if we can't fix everything I'll be here. He says we're in this together, respects that Angel doesn't want to be saved, and he takes the pressure off. He makes himself a safe place for Angel to vent and makes it clear that he enjoys being around him no matter what.

Trying to force someone can push them towards their abuser and isolate them further or put you and the victim in a lot of danger if you're untrained. Which is what happens in the episode when Charlie comes to the studio. Someone tried to help when he didn't ask for it and it ended badly, which just reaffirms that he cannot accept or ask for help without repercussion.

If you have someone close to you who is in an abusive situation and they don't want to leave for whatever reason, applying too much pressure can be counterproductive. If it is safe to do so (mentally and physically), be there for them. Try and keep the line of communication open so they have a life line if or when they're ready.

Angel is under contract, there has been a pattern of abuse for at least a decade, his self worth is extremely low, there are threats of violence against him and people he cares about and Valentino seemingly provided everything before Charlie and is still providing for his drug habits. That's not even getting into the intricacies of the fact he was trafficked, which makes things more complicated.

Aside from the magic piece of paper, these are real reasons people stay in abusive relationships.

My point is, this is uninformed and victim blaming. The amount of times I've heard from survivors all the reasons they didn't ask for help even though it was awful is too many to count. So many people come out of these situations after years and years and blame themselves for not getting help. It is never the fault of the person being hurt, it is always the fault of the person hurting them.

Angel is trying to save himself and is making steps forward. He's going to the hotel, distancing himself from Valentino and he's also trying to 'break himself' or make himself less appealing to his abuser. While that last one isn't good, he's not doing nothing. He is trying to use the resources he knows to stop the abuse.

Autonomy is very important in situations like this. Of course someone in this situation should ask for help, but if someone isn't ready it's not our place to decide that for them.

This struck a nerve obviously!

No one is a bad victim. We do not judge victims choices to ask for help or not ask for help. We do not imply any survivor of abuse lets it happen somehow.

Keep anything close to victim blaming off my blog. All and all, don't put these words in that order! Ever!

[llovelyclouds]

notes on cassiopeia the first

here's all my notes on cassiopeia (my beloved) that i thought seemed relevant during my tlt reread!

(you can find the rest of my posts from this project here!)

CASSIOPEIA THE FIRST

titles:

Fourth saint to ascend, (??) gen, founded the sixth

notes from harrow the ninth:

Name origins, from the pronunciation guide at the end of htn: "NOTE: Cassiopeia's most famous namesake is the vain queen of Greek mythology who chained Andromeda to a rock, but this does Cassiopeia the First a disservice, as she was honestly just a universally beloved and clever human being who made beautiful meals with the occasional finger error. The evolutionary pressure of Lyctorhood has, alas, selected for jerks."

Came up with the magma metaphor for the river that John later uses (htn. pg. 94)

The only lyctor to last seven minutes in full physical submersion in the river (htn. pg. 97)

Died trying to lure an RB through the current of the river. It followed her, but the spirits killed her, and the RB emerged unscathed 20 mins later (htn. pg. 97)

Had a ceramics collection (htn. pg. 105)

Was able to perform necromancy her first time in the river (htn. pg. 156)

For some reason, the fact that Harrow was also capable of this was part of what gave John the idea that something was up with her birth… interesting!! What does this say about Cassiopeia?

Specialised in studying the river (htn. pg. 171)

Coined the term "periscoping" in regards to the RB's (htn. pg. 173)

Was great at cooking, but once cut off a finger that fell into the food and didn’t mention it until everyone had eaten it (htn. pg. 231)

was a lightweight lol (htn. pg. 268)

Died fighting the seventh RB, Varun (htn. pg. 333)

Brought the RB into the river alongside its brain (htn. pg. 337)

was the person to tell Mercy that blood wards can be bypassed with the genetic material of a close relative (htn. pg. 474)

notes from nona the ninth:

was originally brought on Johns team by oversight execs to handle contracts as their lawyer, but was "on their side before the first year was over" (ntn. pg. 13)

"C- was panicking because with the project over she was getting recalled to England and didn't want to go, she'd got N- and didn't want to leave her, refused to admit they were dating even though we all knew." - John 5:20 (ntn. pg. 73)

specifically worked in contract law (ntn. pg. 99)

when she found out about the cow wall they had to lock her in the kitchen so she could throw up in private for a while (ntn. pg. 192)

"C- kept saying, Pick one. Are we more invested in proving this new plan is bullshit, or in saving you? I was like, It's both, how can it not be both. C- was like, It can't be both. Pick one and stick to it. Decide what you give a fuck about." (ntn. pg. 280)

"'Does God know why the Sixth House left?' 'I'm assuming some grisly moral reason that you're about to impart,' said Ianthe, 'and I want to warn you against sounding like a tract.' [...] 'Cassiopeia the First left us instructions years ago,' said Camilla. 'We left for a lyctor.'" - Ianthe & Cam (ntn. pg. 335)

"Cassy played long games." - Pyrrha (ntn. pg. 336)

"C- had been saying, Can't we gin up an act of good wizardry? Any way to stabilize the North America glacier? Any way to trap the atmosphere over the Northern Territory, show them we can fix things here?" (ntn. pg. 397)

“C- admitting out of nowhere she’s dating N-. All of us like, What? We've known for a year? Go ahead and get married already, we've got a nun. N- was all, That’s not legal. C- of all people said, Who cares. That’s how bad it was. [...] C- and N- got married right over there, you can’t see it now ‘cause of the rubbish. I made flowers grow for them out of the garden, but they came out… weird. Some of the roses had teeth. C- and N- thought that was hilarious. [...] The dome meant we hadn’t had full sunlight in a while. It was beautiful anyway. I cried the whole service. I couldn't remember the last time I’d eaten food.” (ntn. pg. 400)

“At this point my people were like, John, what the fuck? What the fuck is happening? We were all yelling at each other. First time I’d ever seen C- angry.” (ntn. Pg. 401) 

 “C- said, John, your problem is that you care less about being a saviour than you do about meting out punishment. I said, C-, I was just your best man! C- said, You still are. That doesn’t change the fact that you can be quite the most appallingly vindictive person I have ever met.” (ntn. pg. 401)

“They’d shot C- first… and right in front of my eyes they shot N-. Bubble wrap. I don’t know what happened to them..” (ntn. Pg. 406)

“Cass and Mercy and I worked on cell thanergy- we need thanergy, fresh thanergy, to activate…” - Pyrrha (ntn. pg. 471)