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theharrowing · 2 years

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Devil with the Mint Hair 🍃 1: It’s euphoric. You gotta try it.

You get way too high and finally have sex with your brother's best friend—and your sworn enemy—Min Yoongi.

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🍃 Yoongi x Female Reader

🍃 word count: 3.4k

🍃 enemies to fuck buddies, brother's best friend, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+

🍃 warnings: use of marijuana; dubious consent at first (mc is very high and says no and Yoongi is pushy); groping; being too rough; spitting; teasing; cunnilingus; Yoongi calling mc easy; unprotected sex on a bedroom floor; multiple orgasms; post-nut regret.

🍃 you hate him, and yet...lol. oneshot requested by @blog-name-idk: “Mint Yoongi dubcon where he sort of coerces/seduces an initially reluctant reader? Maybe he's like a runner or something and MC is reluctant to get involved until she gets a taste of his poison. And not the drugs. Eyebrow waggle." thank you for your patience, dear mango!

🍃 note: i am currently not accepting new requests.

🍃 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🍃 posted oct. 2022 | read on ao3

Your eyelids feel heavy, and the air around you feels like too much—thick and sticky but too thin to fill your lungs—and there's an unfamiliar haze to it that makes you wonder if you're even awake at all.

If it weren't for Min Yoongi—the devil with mint hair—gazing at you like an amused child holding an ant hostage beneath a magnifying glass in the scorching sun, you would think that for sure you were in dreamland.

But Yoongi is no dream. Yoongi is a nightmare.

A beautiful, cunning nightmare, but a nightmare no less. With his crooked smirk and his feline eyes, Yoongi can spin shit into gold and make anyone bend to his will, and you had done a valiant job of holding out for years, feigning annoyance and giving him nothing to work with. That is, until he turned up on your doorstep at ten in the morning, claiming to be looking for your brother, with a gift.

"No sweat," he had muttered with a shrug when you mentioned your brother was out of town until the evening. "I'll let you have it instead."

Whatever it is that your dumbass brother's dumbass drug dealer best friend had to offer, you were certain you wanted nothing to do with it. Unless it was weed; Yoongi always had the best weed.

"Have what?" you asked against your better judgment.

The smug grin that tugged on Yoongi's lips sent a knowing chill down your spine, settling heavily in your guts as he lifted his hand, holding up a perfectly rolled joint. "This new strain I got. It's euphoric. You gotta try it."

And that is how you ended up here: sitting on your bedroom floor wearing an oversized white tee and short grey pajama shorts, with your brother's closest friend—and your sworn enemy—Min Yoongi.

"How do you like it?" Yoongi asks.

The fog in the room feels even thicker, and you are so spaced and so painfully fucking high that you have no idea what Yoongi is asking you, but—despite how slow your brain is moving—you consider a myriad of things he could be asking, and none of them are good.

"Huh?" is all you can manage to say in response.

Yoongi chuckles and shifts, and you glance up to find him on his hands and knees, leaning into your personal space. He wears a black bomber jacket that has a bunch of pins on it, and you wonder what they are for just a split moment before you decide it's probably best that Yoongi does not catch you looking at him curiously.

"Undressing me with your eyes?" Yoongi rasps, deep and saccharine—thorns coated in honey.

You knit your eyebrows and attempt to shake your head at his absolute stupidity. "I—what?"

"It's alright," Yoongi responds, and you meet his eyes to find them dark and glimmering with mischief. "I can take this off for you. It's warm in here, anyway."

Yoongi sits high on his knees and slides his jacket off his shoulders, and although you want to tell him no—that you are not undressing him with your eyes, that you have no intention of encouraging him to remove any of his clothing—you can't get your mouth to move.

The haze thickens as Yoongi gets back on his hands and leans in too close again. He wears an off-white rolling stones band tee—the one with the big, obnoxious bright red mouth, right in the middle of his chest. It hangs loose as he bends forward—shows a hint of clavicle—and you swallow a lump in your throat and let your gaze fall foolishly to one of his hands—big and rough and too close for comfort.

You open your mouth with the intention of asking Yoongi what he’s doing, but your lips falter around nothing. Your mouth is terribly dry, and Yoongi's heady scent of bergamot and musk threatens to suffocate you.

Yoongi smirks. "I asked you how you like it."

You blink your heavy, tired eyes and attempt to back up and put more space between the two of you, but you bump into the foot of your bed and gasp.

"L-like what?" you finally ask, looking back at Yoongi with a gaze that feigns indifference.

Yoongi crawls forward and crowds your space entirely, and although you have the urge to pull your knees to your chest and guard your body, your legs slide down, between Yoongi's arms and legs, giving him full access to you.

"The weed." Yoongi cocks an eyebrow and continues to crawl, caging you in. "What did you think I meant?"

"I like it," you mutter, ignoring his question. "but it's too strong."

Yoongi hums, and his tongue flicks out, gently moistening his lips. You watch the movement—at the hint of pink that appears and disappears—and draw a shaky breath when Yoongi smiles widely and nibbles on his lip.

"Don't you feel so loose and relaxed?" Yoongi asks.

Warm breath ghosts over your mouth, and you struggle to find the words to answer. "Uh—I—"

"You're not pushing me away like you always do," Yoongi interrupts. "Are you finally gonna cave in and let me have what I want?"

You shake your head and turn your face to the side. You cannot hold your composure by looking at his mouth or feeling the warmth that passes from his lips to yours, so you make a feeble attempt to convince yourself that you do not want to kiss Min Yoongi.

"No," you whisper.

Yoongi hums and leans forward, nuzzling his nose against your neck. Your breath hitches, and you let your eyes fall closed, and although you want to tell Yoongi to back off and stop touching you, the words never leave your lips.

"Then push me away," Yoongi groans, pressing his lips against your skin.

Push him away, you tell yourself, but your arms feel heavy and useless, and your heart pounds in your chest at a dizzying pace. Every little movement Yoongi makes feels good, and it terrifies you.

"I don't want this," you mutter, but Yoongi nips at your skin, and you whimper softly, betraying yourself.

"Moaning while you tell me no isn't exactly convincing," Yoongi chides as his lips travel to your throat.

Your head falls back against your mattress, and you sigh out a deep breath as Yoongi takes advantage of all the skin you have to offer—lips, tongue, and teeth marking and flicking and nibbling.

"I see the way you look at me," Yoongi challenges.

You chuckle weakly as you admit, "Yeah, you're fucking hot, okay. But you're my brother's best friend. And you're an asshole."

"Hmm, True on all counts," Yoongi mutters as his lips leave your skin, and he sits high on his knees, towering over you.

You hate the hold Yoongi has on you in this moment—hate how strikingly handsome he is, how good he smells, how your skin tingles under his touch. You want him. You have always wanted him. And his teasing remarks and sly glances over the years have only served to make you absolutely despise him.

"Fine," you concede, against your better judgment, feeling tingly and hazy and eager for more of his mouth. Yoongi lets out a hum that poses as a question, and you sigh out a deep breath—giving in. "Fuck me before I change my mind."

Yoongi's hands are on you, groping and squeezing your breasts before you have a chance to react, and you open your mouth to protest his eagerness—to tell him to go slow—but Yoongi captures your lips with his, swallowing the sound whole. He nibbles and sucks on your lip, causing you to gasp, and as your mouth falls agape and pliant, he rolls his tongue over yours—tasting of stale weed and something slightly sweet—pulling more sounds of pleasure from your throat.

"Yoongi," you finally mutter with your mouth full of tongue, "slow down."

But Yoongi does not slow down. He tugs at your shirt and pulls it over your head—releasing the kiss for only the allotted second or so that it takes to remove the garment—then kneads your bare breasts with both palms, engulfing your soft, tender flesh in warmth.

Your body feels electric with want and desire, and you lift your arms sluggishly—only enough to set your hands on Yoongi's thighs and slowly rub over coarse denim. Yoongi groans into your mouth, forcing you to sink further into pleasure from the sound, and you gasp for breath and arch your back as his lips trail down to your jaw and back to your throat in soft but desperate gnashes of lips and teeth.

"Lay down," Yoongi commands.

"On the floor?"

A chuckle against your skin sends a shiver through you, and you begin to slide down, finding it difficult to comply even with gravity in your current state. Yoongi sits back, high on his knees, and yanks you by the hips, pulling you hard onto your elbows with a surprised gasp. You hit your head against your bed as you attempt to settle onto your back, and you feel cramped and uncomfortable but struggle to inch your limbs any further.

Yoongi gets onto his feet quickly, pulling off his shirt and pushing his jeans and briefs down. You lift your hands with the intent of pushing your pajama shorts down, but the sight of Yoongi's long, hard cock springing from the confines of tight, restrictive fabric halts all physical and mental activity, and your hands still in the air.

"It's rude to stare," Yoongi teases as he bends and tugs at your shorts, yanking them hard enough that you barely shift your body to help him remove the garment, leaving you sprawled out on your bedroom floor, naked.

"Fuck," Yoongi rasps as he tosses the shorts aside and gets back on his knees. He gropes your thighs and roughly spreads them, forcing you to gasp and tremble in his hold.

"No panties?" Yoongi teases as he sinks to his elbows. "How fucking naughty."

You consider telling Yoongi that he showed up while you were still in your pajamas—that you're not even sure it's fucking noon yet—but he probably doesn't actually want an explanation for your state of undress. All coherent thought is rendered useless, anyway, as his mouth quickly finds your clit, sending any explanation you may have given out as a strangled gasp.

Loud, desperate moans escape you as Yoongi's tongue laps greedily over your cunt, and you relax into the feeling, finally at an angle that is as comfortable as possible on your rough, carpeted floor. Yoongi grips your thighs and holds you spread for him, sending a flood of arousal and pleasure through you that threatens to drown you far too fast. Whatever is in this weed is euphoric, and you fear you might come undone immediately.

"F-fuck," you whimper as Yoongi snakes one hand between your thighs and plunges two long, thick fingers into you, stretching you painfully around them. Yoongi finger fucks you hard—punches moans and gasps from your chest and throat—and you claw at the carpet below you as pleasure rips your soul straight from your body, causing you to disintegrate into a pile of shaky limbs.

You hardly recognize your voice—pitchy and broken as you sob and cry through your orgasm. And Yoongi gives you no time to recover, punishing you with his fingers and tongue as your high crashes and immediately begins to build, leaving you a trembling, overstimulated shell of a human.

"One more," Yoongi commands, and you shake your head, whimper loose vowels and consonants that are meant to be words of assent and writhe helplessly, sprawled and sweaty on the floor.

Time and space slip through your fingers—tears threaten to escape your eyes, which you squeeze shut, seeing only stars. Sharp, soundless breaths heave from your mouth, and Yoongi brings you higher and higher, only for you to plunge into unforgiving bliss once more.

Yoongi's hands and mouth finally slow, and you tremble and shiver from the weight of everything that has just happened as the cool air settles over your warm skin.

"Easy," Yoongi chides against your thigh, nipping at your skin until you squirm. "So fucking easy. Do you cum that fast for everyone?"

Yoongi's teasing is annoying, and you attempt to kick him away, but you're high and fucked out, and he holds your bend knee firmly—doesn't let you move.

No, you think, only this time. Only for you. But you won't give him the satisfaction, instead gritting, "Shut the fuck up," through clenched teeth.

"All this time, my boy's little sister is an easy fuck, cuming in two seconds flat. Can’t believe I got you all spread out on your bedroom floor."

You stare at the off-white ceiling, letting your eyes unfocus in the haze that continues to cloud your vision. God, you hate him. "Shut the fuck up, Yoongi."

Yoongi crawls up your body, caging your head between his arms, and you have no choice but to look at him—mint hair hanging into your face and his chin glistening with your release. He smirks and spits onto your mouth, and you frown, ready to shout at him for being an asshole, but his cock prods at your thigh, leaving a streak of precum on your warm skin, and you groan at the thought of how full he's going to make you, forgetting his transgression in an instant.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard, your brother is gonna ask why you have a limp."

"Stop mentioning my brother," you grumble weakly, turning your head to stare at the wall.

Yoongi grabs onto your jaw and forces you to look at him, sending arousal coursing through your veins, turning your blood to syrup. "Good thing he's not back till later. I have so much time to fuck you into submission. Gonna make you forget your own name."

You scoff at Yoongi's arrogance and roll your eyes. "Do it, then," you challenge.

The press of Yoongi's cock head against your cunt makes you gasp. Yoongi reaches between his thighs and rubs himself slowly over your pussy, up to your clit and back down, then lines himself with your hole and slowly presses in.

You whine and hiss at the stretch that is agonizingly slow, yet steady, burning painfully and feeling incredible. Yoongi doesn't rock his hips, just presses in, in, in until finally, you are so full of cock, all you can do is gasp for air.

"You are tight, baby," Yoongi groans as he settles onto his knees and sits up, rubbing his hands up and down your sides before gripping onto your hips.

You hate the sound of baby coming from his mouth, and you cringe. "Don't call me that."

Yoongi smirks and pulls his hips back, dragging his cock so slowly it makes you whine. He licks his lips and raises an eyebrow. "I'll call you anything I want, baby."

"Shut the fuck up," you whimper lazily with a frown.

"What was that?"

"Shut the f—ah—" you moan, interrupted by a deep thrust of Yoongi's hips.

Your hands grip uselessly at the carpet as Yoongi pulls back and plunges forward, overwhelming you with pleasure and the sudden desire to be fucked until you're just as brainless as he promises.

Yoongi leans forward and sets a steady pace, holding your thighs spread. His cock feels so good you almost don't notice the drag of your back and shoulders across the carpet, threatening to rub your skin raw. And you almost complain and suggest moving to the bed, but Yoongi shifts his arm and rubs the pad of his thumb over your clit, sending pleasure to burst and bloom and turn you once more into a pliant, sobbing mess.

This time, when you cum—fucked hard and fast—it's so intense that your back arches from the floor, and you splay your fingers and toes, limbs suspended in the air while choked sobs fall from your mouth.

"So easy," Yoongi teases again, and maybe it would be humiliating, but the blend of the high and the pleasure is so great, you decide that you like being this easy—you like how hard and fast you can cum for him. Only for him.

Yoongi pulls out and shoves your legs to one side, forcing your body to twist, and you comply with his unspoken request and manage to get onto your elbows and knees, slowly and unsteadily.

"Fuck, the carpet got you," Yoongi complains as his hands rub over your back and settle on your ass, spreading you wide. And you're almost foolish enough to think that Yoongi cares about your comfort until he spits, sending a glob of cold saliva hurling against your asshole.

"You're fucking disgusting," you grumble as the spit trickles down, caught by Yoongi's cock head before he presses back into your eager cunt. You are reminded that you absolutely fucking hate him, and you do your best to hold onto one tiny thread of sensibility—a single inkling of annoyance. But Yoongi chuckles deep and melodic, and he begins to fuck you, forcing your shoulders to slump forward from bliss as your cheek presses into the back of your hand.

The pace Yoongi sets is dizzying. You have to curl in on yourself slightly, angled just enough to prevent your head from slamming into your bed, and although your knees begin to burn, you don't care. Yoongi fucks you so good that in this moment, nothing matters but the feeling of his thick cock spearing you so deep it intoxicates you just as much as the joint had.

This time, when you cum, the feeling envelopes you like a warm hug, spreading from limb to limb like wildfire. Your body slumps even further, legs tremble, and your cries die down, drowned out by the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and the squelch of your overused pussy.

Yoongi moans and mutters profanities and loose vowels as his hips stutter, then he pulls out and sprays his cum on your ass—an unceremonious end to a regrettable situation. You chuckle dryly to yourself and bury your face in your hands as post-nut clarity sinks its claws into you, and you come to terms with the fact that you just let this idiot fuck you, and that it felt amazing.

"Let me catch my breath and we can go for round two," Yoongi grumbles through heaving breaths.

You manage to crawl onto your knees and glance around your room for something to wipe your buttcheeks off with. "There will be no round two. Ever."

Yoongi laughs and walks to the side of your bed, where you keep a box of tissues, and you hear him pull three out before he returns to your side. You reach out a hand to accept them, but he takes the liberty of wiping you off, instead. It feels embarrassing to have your buttcheeks wiped, especially by him, and you plop onto your side the second he's done and sit up, drawing your knees up to guard yourself.

"Get dressed and go home," you say, catching Yoongi's eye as he glances from his task of wiping off his cock.

"Even after the best fuck of your life, you are such a fucking brat."

"Seriously, Min, go home."

Yoongi scoffs and tosses his used, balled-up tissue at you, which you swat at and cringe. What an asshole.

"Gonna turn your brother down more often when he invites me to tag along for his trips. Fucking you is way more fun."

The high has all but dissipated, and you feel anger build in your gut because of course he already knew, when he came over this morning, that you would be alone.

"I fucking hate you," you grumble as you glare so hard, you hope the gaze will pierce through him like a laser and fry him to smitherines.

Yoongi laughs to himself as he gets dressed, hopping into his jeans and slinging his jacket over his shoulder. "Hate me all you want, but I fucked you better than anyone else has."

He is absolutely right, and you hate that too.

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#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi hate sex #yoongi brother's best friend #yoongi scenarios #bts smut #fic: devil with the mint hair

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bucketlmao · 11 months

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scar go wheelie mode

see design ramble in read more :]

I wantes to try and make a base design for scar and yoinked @stiffyck's four ears design because it's silly and cute

(pretend it's colored) the fit is based on his original Mc skin, so he has the white shirt with one of those little black ribbon ties, and a brown bomber jacket. he has an American flag and a hotguy patch and I am open to suggestions for other patches he'd have

he's probably wearing joggers or something comfy idk it's CHILL

idk if he's a vex or elf or human in my drawings but I think I will call him silly

he has two hermitcraft forms: wheelie mode and gamer mode. wheelie mode is for chill relax days on the server where he's taking a break from builds.

gamer mode is business mode. I imagine he has the bionic leg pieces that rhodey (war machine, avengers) has to help him walk. he'd probably use only gamer mode during other series', like the life series since he'd need the mobility for it

jellie obviously prefers wheelie mode

ramble over!!

see bonus oc doodles because I want tumblr to see them

aren't they silly

#scar #gtwscar goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanart #mcyt #hermitcraft headcanons #goodtimeswithscar fanart #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #gtwscar #hot guy #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft hc

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usafphantom2 · 1 month

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The bomb load used for industrial demolition (Bomber Command codeword "Abnormal") loaded in the bomb bay of an Avro Lancaster of No. 9 Squadron RAF at Bardney, Lincolnshire, before a night raid on Stettin, Germany. "Abnormal" consisted of 14 x 1,000-lb. MC high-explosive bombs.

@WW2HQ via X

#avro lancaster #RAF #ww2 #bomber

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wrecksalot · 3 months

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Okay, I like Wildbow and Flying Circus, so I'm just going to speculate on what planes various Wildbow characters would fly if they were ace pilots from flying circus, starting with the undersiders.

Grue : a Bahadur Escort(a heavy fighter that can go a few rounds in a slugging match)

Bitch: a Teicher Mammut (spacious cockpit with room for dogs, plenty of bombsmake it a heavy hitter)

Tattletale a Gernsbeck experiment 0012(a fighter with way too many clever gadgets can't actually power them all, making some utterly wasted at any given time)

Skitter a Schnelles Mammut(a bomber with way too many pulsejets to keep up with fighters. Similar bomb capacity to Rachel's as a heavy hitter, absolutely torturous to fly due to engine noise and turbulence.)

Aisha: a Cheetal Fighter (similar make to grues, but with an emphasis on seeing opponents before they see it)

Regent is tricky. If we assume they still have their powers then he flies a Theler drachen(the shittiest plane in the core book, but it can coast at a very low speed without stalling, and Regent would still be the scariest member of the team since his power can easily make opponents fall into a spin)

Otherwise he flies a Kreuzer Spinner v8 conversion( adapted to escape a toxic environment, can almost pass as a normal fighter if you aren't paying attention

If we assume this is their actual lineup then you better believe that they will need a backer with tons of money just to pay for their planes upkeep.

Next, for the Other verse MCs

Blake Thorburn has the grave misfortune of flying a Dr Sonnewende's bargain(extremely fast, so fragile it can barely even turn once it gets going, literally cursed)

The Kenneteers have immense backing in their setting, so for this crossover I'm giving them bougie planes that are unaffordable to most circus pilots.

Lucy flies a Von Morgan Vampyr (high end dogfighter that can shoot down some fighters in a single attack run)

Verona flies a Von Morgan Pferd(a bomber that needs fighter cover but which carries enough bomb mass that you might as well have dropped the moon on your target)

Avery flies a Mauss Z 95 Phoenix ( high altitude ceiling means she travels places most can't reach, pretty fast in general, but can dive down from those lofty heights to get places very fast, still has plenty of fire power for prongs

Ehh, might as well do familiars too

Evan gets an unarmed Albrecht pfeil( no weapons, but fast and free)

And Snowdrop gets a das Gegenbeispiel( apparently someone didn't understand her gimmick when she explained what a good plane would be.

#pale web serial #wildbow #wormblr #pactverse #worm web serial #ttrpg #flying circus

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hoocares · 6 months

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youtube

Six In The Morning

#MC BOMBER #PAPKE

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hikennosabo · 4 months

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#tristampparty day 3, episode 3: bright light, shine through the darkness

DAY 3 OF @tristampparty!! this episode was the one that hooked me lol, LET'S GOOOOO

the radio dj here is vash's jp seiyuu, masaya onosaka!! the voice of the humanoid typhoon talking about an approaching storm... but it's knives who's the storm...

also i LOVE how knives just saunters slowly towards the city. we barely know anything about him but it immediately sets him up as an imposing presence.

once again roberto is quick on the uptake. like he not only knows exactly who's responsible for all this but he's got him fuckin PROFILED. truly a senior reporter.

also is it just me or is eg the mine the most forgettable gung-ho gun. i keep calling him MC Bomber (<- that's an ace attorney reference)

he looks very good here

he just prepared this ahead of time i guess...? for dramatic effect i guess??? and it happened to be in the right spot, where everyone was watching??? this is what the ghg's budget goes to???

the plants are pretty goddamn resilient, aren't they? like obviously it would be a bad idea to contain them in glass that could easily break, but this poor plant has been through so much today, and there isn't so much as a crack.

i love how roberto puts his whole pussy into meryl's plan. he's always chiding her for her reckless behavior but he goes all in on this.

this scene reminds me of that one scene... yknow the one where the guy is like, "this guy killed my daughter" and vash is like, "don't kill him!" and... oh, it was the scene after vash sings his total slaughter song!! yeah!!

"whose side are you on?" count: 1

okay i'm obsessed with knives's introduction scene because

nobody noticed him enter the city. granted, they were distracted, but still.

he made a BEELINE for the piano?!?! WHY... THAT'S SO FUNNY OF HIM... he was really like "okay before i do ANYTHING else i have to find a piano and play my little tune" he's such a fucking drama queen

lost arm count: 2

wait this is in the diner?! i didnt even notice there was a piano in the diner. goddamn.

"whose side are you on?" count: 2

i'm just... putting a pin in this line for later.

i still don't fully understand what knives did to vash's gun...? honestly i also still don't really understand how gates work either...? orange probably has it all written out to the last detail in their lore bible...

also god i just. love how knives moves. he's so imposing. ouuuahahghghh

lost arm count: 3

i have some questions about why this is happening in this order. so mine scoped out the city beforehand and prepped all his bombs so he could have fun killing and steal the plant. then knives arrives afterwards which i don't think mine anticipated? like based on how he reacts, he seems surprised that knives is there? and then ninelives + conrad + elendira ii* (*she is not my elendira) show up and knives says:

did knives actually not know he was coming or is he being sarcastic LOL. also because he says "good timing" like did he not expect them to be there?! why did they all arrive at different times. are the ghg just that disorganized.

also i'm so concerned for rosa in these episodes LOL she's getting tossed around so much while pregnant... is the baby okay?!?!

lost arm count: 4

i love how we never actually get a proper look at knives's face this episode - this is the first "good" look we get, and it's only half.

"whose side are you on?" count: 3

his EXPRESSION here AAUAHGHGHGHGAHAOAHGHHG

i just wanted to point out vash fully reloading his gun because earlier in the episode when he shot at eg mine's vantage point he only put one bullet in his gun.

godddd when knives destroys the city. i can't do it justice with screenshots but it's such a gorgeous scene and it was the moment i became enthralled with this character LOL. that was over 6 months ago... actually wait. *checks* it was SEVEN months ago TO THE DATE. EXACTLY SEVEN MONTHS AGO. I'VE BEEN MICROWAVING KNIVES FOR SEVEN MONTHS. WATCHING HIM SPARK IN THERE.

oh also hey we see that gofsef is still alive actually. father nebraska did all that for nothing smh.

lost arm count: 5

rosa says this but honestly... knives would have stolen the plant regardless of vash's presence. like he didn't really engage vash that much in this episode. like he said what he wanted to say but it's clear his priority was the plant. which, considering what i said in my first post about the subs and dub script... yeah i think those were wrong.

and the fact she calls him humanoid typhoon, not by his name... oof

okay i can't focus on writing this post anymore cause i'm distracted by vtubers again so we'll end it here. WOLFWOOD INTRODUCTION NEXT EP LET'S GOOOOOO

#tristampparty #trigun talk #june speaks

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dartmoor26player · 1 year

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youtube

#Morlockk Dilemma #MC Bomber #Youtube #Brenk Sinatra

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ellawrites-if · 11 months

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Will MC have a kick-ass bomber jacket?

…And if so can I put it on my babygirl Ciaran 🥺👉👈

Definitely going to have to add both of those options in 👀 thank you for the suggestions, lovely!

#ask #ro: ciaran

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the12thnightproject · 2 months

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Chapter 41: Phone Home - Has Katsu gotten Aki to the future in time to save him?

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

Please take me to the right Kyoto! To the right time. I hung on to Aki so tightly that I could imagine him groaning, though the sensory deprivation of the wormhole meant that any noise I heard was an auditory hallucination.

Then, slowly, I did hear sounds… sounds I hadn’t heard for seven years…

Cars…

Busses…

Honks…

The hum of electricity...

And the screaming of tourists who were shocked to see two people manifest in front of their eyes.

Modern Japan… it was familiar, but not really home. Not anymore.

Had I been alone I would have taken time to breathe it in, to readjust to the noise and the crowd and the people. But Aki needed immediate medical treatment, so I stepped forward and announced to the circle of freaked out tourists in my best 'I went to art school and this is the only job I am qualified for' voice. "Historical Reenactments. Daily at the Azuchi Castle Ruins."

The tourists all nodded sagely, as if they saw such stunts often. Once the initial crowd moved off, I took out the paper with Sasuke's phone number, and approached a girl about my age. "Excuse me. My phone battery just died." I waved Iekane's device at her as an explanation. "Can I borrow yours? I need to call my boss before I get marked late for my day job."

She bowed politely and handed over a phone about ten generations newer than the last one I had owned. It had a custom case with some K-Pop band on it. If I had never left this time, perhaps I would be a fan. But I had, and the band on the case, though all adorable, also looked impossibly young.

I almost felt like more of a fish out of water than I ever had in the Sengoku.

With any luck I was both in the right timeline and that my timeline’s Sasuke had the same phone number of the Sasuke I had just left. Mentally crossing my fingers, I entered the number and waited. While the phone continued to ring, I kept half my attention on Aki, who was slumped over on the bench. If Sasuke didn’t answer, I would need to try-

"Mikumo Sasuke." Sasuke's neutral tones directed towards what would be an unknown number.

"Sasuke. It's Katsuko." Not yet five minutes in modern Japan and I'd already reverted to the name of my childhood. "Katsu. I'm at Honno-ji."

I turned away from the girl and lowered my voice. "I've got Aki with me, and I need to get him to a hospital."

The quick-witted Sasuke didn’t ask questions. "We'll be right there."

"Thanks." He'd already hung up. I gave the phone back to the girl and repeated my thank you to her.

"No worries. Great costume. Looks really authentic." With a bow, she headed into the shrine.

Crouching next to Aki, I propped him up under my shoulder. "Don't you dare die on me now old man."

"I’ll do my best." The words were faint, and I could feel his fever radiating off him.

"I'm sure the hospital can fix you right up." I wasn't sure, but now that there was nothing to do but wait, I was babbling uselessly. Every once in a while, a concerned Samaritan would ask if Aki was ok, and I kept repeating that help was coming.

And eventually, a long shadow fell over both of us, and a familiar warm spiced voice said, "Sasuke didn’t tell me his friend was a forest Goddess."

Right. This Shingen hasn't met me.

I looked up at the modern version of the main I had just said goodbye to less than an hour (plus or minus 450 years) ago. The cargo pants, grey henley shirt and leather bomber jacket didn’t look out of place on him at all, although the barely healed surgical scar on his chest and flirtatious look he directed at me certainly did.

With my father half draped over me, it was not the time to go into that, so I introduced myself briefly, while Shingen helped Aki to his feet and propped himself under the uninjured shoulder. "Where is Sasuke?"

"Out front in his motorized palanquin." Shingen gave a little grunt as Aki dumped his entire weight on the taller man. Realizing that this Shingen was probably fresh out of the hospital himself, I hurried to Aki’s other side and carefully maneuvered myself around his wound.

Together we half carried Aki to the street, where an SUV was hovering near the bus stop. Leaving the motor idling, Sasuke leaped out. “Greetings and salutations, Katsu,” he said as he helped settle Aki across the back seat.

I don't remember much about the trek across town. Sasuke drove like a Yokai on acid, zipping through stoplights that turned red as we sped past. The streets blurred out the window, and now that the responsibility for Aki was divided up, the-time travel (and Sasuke’s driving) caught up to me.

Feeling vaguely sick to my stomach, I shut my eyes. No Mitsuhide to hold your hair if you barf here. Or put mint oil on – Weird… I could almost smell the mint.

Opening my eyes, I saw that Shingen was holding a tin of Mintia in front of me. "Try this. I keep them around just for these travels."

Ah. So Sasuke always drove like this. Good. To. Know. "Thanks." I popped a couple of the strong mints into my mouth, and indeed, it did help with the nausea, even when Sasuke whipped a turn so sharply that both Shingen and I grabbed onto the armrests for stability.

Thanks to Sasuke's University I. D., we managed to get Aki admitted through emergency services and by some miracle Aki's biometrics were already in the hospital system. The only real difficulty occurred when the admitting staff asked how he had managed to receive a gunshot wound, and why had it been allowed to go untreated for so long.

"I'm rather curious to know the answer to that myself." I heard Shingen tell Sasuke.

Yes, he would definitely want to know about the movement of battles in 1582 – he probably was even now wondering if Kasugayama had been under attack when I left that era.

To the doctors and nurses, I kept answering, "I don't know." Without any inside knowledge about present day Kyoto's crime scene, it would be hard to make up a good story. Any detail I created would be investigated by the police, "he only said he was attacked and robbed." I then drew on my now honed by Mitsuhide acting skills and put a sob into my voice. "Please, is my dad going to be ok?"

To my horror, I felt a real tear escape. Not completely acting. Unnerved by my tears, the hospital staff ended their interrogation and directed us to a family waiting area, while Aki was wheeled off to parts unknown in the bowels of the hospital.

Shingen liberated a box of tissues from the nurses’ station (by which I mean he flirted with the staff until they gave it to him) and set it on the table next to a seriously uncomfortable plastic chair.

Ok breathe. This is a University Hospital. It’s a top-rated trauma center. It will be fine. Breathe.

Once I had again composed myself, Sasuke, who had been typing on a tablet at warp speed, turned to me. "Are you interested in reading a library of protocols for treating gunshot wounds and blood poisoning?"

Timing, Sasuke. Timing.

I must have looked as appalled as I felt, for he hurried to add. "This is not from Dr Google, but actual medical journals... not that I've personally vetted them of course. I'm not a doctor I'm a physicist."

"That was funnier the first time you told it to me." Were we private enough to go into this here? There were other people in this room. Granted, they were likely dealing with their own issues, but...

"I do not recall making this joke in the past." Sasuke darted a quick look at the other people in the waiting room, then typed something into his tablet. My hypothesis seems too fantastical to mention.

I reached for the tablet. “May I?”

He nodded, so I began two finger typing a response. Ugh. I guess some skills you lose in seven years. Both Shingen and Sasuke leaned over me to watch my response form one letter at a time.

Aki shot in 1578. Took him through a wormhole to 1586 different timeline. You and that timeline’s Shingen helped me get him here.

“Holy crap on a cracker!” His exclamation, and the fact that he nearly shot out of his seat, earned us all dark looks from the others in the room. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Multiverses.”

I nodded. Hopefully that would satisfy him for now. At the moment, I didn’t have the mental capacity to explain more, either verbally, or on the tablet. Luckily, that set Sasuke off on another mad typing excursion, and Shingen, at least satisfied that he hadn’t missed an important battle, took another look at me, and offered to get some food. "What do you like to eat, Angel? The bistro in the lobby has very good pastry. I have tried it all.”

"Oh. Maybe just tea and soup." I had no urge to test a seven-years-in the- Sengoku digestive system on anything heavy (the shock to my intestines when I first arrived in 1575 had been a painful enough experience that I was in no hurry to repeat). Shingen nodded and made himself scarce.

With Sasuke still in mad scientist mode, I finally took a moment to glance through the paperwork I’d been given in intake and realized that Sasuke had pulled both academic and financial strings here.

"Thank you," I said to Sasuke when he had paused in his typing. "I don't know how I'll repay you--."

"It's not an issue." Sasuke gestured to his tablet. "You are making infinite contributions to my scientific knowledge." Wait until you get a look at this device. It was not the best location to show him that… not with all the witnesses about, let alone any closed circuit cameras that might be in the area.

Given my circumstances, I was going to have to rely on his charity for a day or so. While I did at least have the numbers and passcodes to Aki's accounts in that letter, without an I. D. I wouldn’t be able to access them. Granted, I could probably get a replacement for all my papers with a vague 'travelling, got robbed' excuse, but it wouldn't be immediate.

With those practicalities, and the trying-not-to-think-about-it concern over Aki circling in my mind, I gratefully accepted a comforting bowl of ramen when Shingen returned (also with a bag of pastry and a carrier containing three to-go cups). From the smell, it seemed like Sasuke was drinking a seriously dark roast coffee, which I guess also explained his typing speed. The smell reminded me of Francisco's office and for a moment I pictured myself back then all those weeks ago - when Francisco had offered Mitsuhide a cup of coff— and then an earlier memory superimposed over that one.

“You ought to be able to perform both at the same time.” Mitsuhide motioned me over to the writing desk, opened the drawer for like… three seconds… and then slammed it shut again. “What is in the drawer, brat?”—

My mental picture slid to when I searched Francisco's office to retrieve my letter. There... had been a gun in the drawer. I'd been so focused on Aki that it hadn't registered at the time. But it had not been in there when I was there last week (two weeks ago? Time flies when you’ve got wormholes). Sure, owning a gun would not be unusual for a Portuguese merchant. But I had never seen Francisco use a gun. Well… something just felt off.

Damn it. Not for the first time I wished Mitsuhide were around so that I could talk about this with him! (And wouldn't he tease me about it too!).

"Ms. Yamaoka?" A doctor entered the room with an electronic tablet in her hand. "I wanted to update you on your father's condition."

I jumped to my feet, aware that behind me, Shingen and Sasuke had done so as well, just to support me.

"We removed the bullet without any major complications." She hesitated and I realized that this was going to be one of those good news, bad news situation. "However, the infection at the site of the wound and the fever has put him at high risk for a cascading multi organ failure."

I felt a reassuring pat on my shoulder. Shingen. It was the pat of an authority figure to a subordinate, an 'I'm here to help if you want’ kind of thing, and I appreciated that he had dropped the flirtatious exterior. The slight clicking behind me suggested that Sasuke was already looking up all the potential treatments in the medical library. "We'll do everything we can to support his system, but to give the antibiotics a chance to work, we've put him into a medically induced coma." She paused, waiting for me to ask additional questions, but I had gotten the gist of it.

She handed me a few informative packets on their treatment and on patient family support options. The paperwork was a bit overwhelming, when all I wanted right now was, "Can I see him?"

The doctor frowned. "Visiting hours technically ended-"

Shingen edged closer to her. "Doctor. You are truly a Goddess of Healing. We're grateful for everything you do. All my young friend needs is a few minutes with her father, just to ease her mind."

Ha. Apparently that charisma could be deployed at will and with military precision. I was granted five minutes but warned that he wouldn't know I was there.

I was used to Aki seeming bigger than life, but now, hooked up to several machines, he looked drained and very old. As warned, he didn’t register my presence, so I simply sat and held his hand, as if that could be a conduit to transfer my energy to him.

When my time was up, I leaned over him and whispered, "Aki, if you don't recover, I am turning your spy network over to Takauji."

It was the smell of coffee that awoke me the following morning. I sat up on the futon and looked around the room, taking in details that I had been too tired to notice the night before. Sasuke's two-bedroom high rise condo was sleek and ultra-modern. Given how much of a history buff he was, I was surprised at how no-frills it was in terms of decor. It kind of seemed... not him.

In spite of the stark decor, it was comfortable, full of every imaginable convenience. I'd half slept through my first shower in seven years, then, with my hair still wet, I had fallen asleep almost instantly on the futon in the living room (both Sasuke and Shingen had offered to give up their bedrooms for me, but I had insisted that I would be fine on the futon for a few days).

Something clicked and beeped, and I finally located the smell of coffee as emanating from a complicated looking automatic espresso machine. It was the only visible appliance in the open kitchen. The thing beeped again, and, as if on cue Sasuke shuffled out of his room, hair flopping everywhere, glasses slightly askew, and made a beeline for the machine.

Recognizing a caffeine addict when I saw one, I waited for him to get a few sips into his system before engaging in conversation. "How in the world did you manage to survive in the Sengoku without coffee?"

"Indeed, it was one of the only thing I neglected to factor into my decision making when I initially went back in time. However the benefits of immersive historical and scientific research outweighed the inconvenience of the pre-Dutch explorer era." He finished his first coffee, poured another cup, then pulled an electric kettle out of some neat hidden cupboard, filled it with water, and plugged it in.

"Aki's friend Francisco had coffee - when we get back, I should connect the two of you.'' And also question Francisco about the gun. But that was something to worry about later. I had more pressing issues to deal with. “Did the hospital call with updates to Aki’s condition?” Sasuke had left his details with the hospital, since I was still without a phone.

Sasuke held up one finger, slipped back into his room at a much faster pace than he had left it, and returned with his phone. "No messages," He handed it to me. "I presume you want to call?"

He was correct in that, and once I had made it through the frustratingly complicated hospital voice system (yeesh, it was easier to get a message to someone in the Sengoku era than it was to get a live person on the phone) only to be told that Aki’s condition was unchanged, Sasuke had set out a bowl and whisk, and a packet of tea.

By the time I had prepared the tea, taking comfort in the fact that this at least had not changed from the Sengoku era, Shingen joined us. He had either slept in, or put on a kimono, and he looked a bit more like the Shingen I had met in 1586, although he was unhealthily thin; a condition that I imagined would change soon enough if he kept eating sweet pastry for breakfast.

Once we had all gathered our respective food and drink items to the table and taken a few bites to sate our hunger, Shingen asked again the question that I imagine had been nagging at him all night. "How did your father get shot?"

And so once again, I found myself explaining how and when I found Aki, but, not wanting him to question too much about 1586 (I was in no mind space to handle the awkwardness of explaining that his alternate was in love with an alternate version of me), I skipped right to the device, knowing that Sasuke would take over as soon as he saw it.

After explaining what Sasuke Mach 1586 had discovered about the thing so far, I turned it, and the letter he had written to himself over to him, and had the rare experience of seeing his face light up with scientific glee. "Holy crap on a cracker - it's a... I don't know what to call it."

"We were joking that it’s a mini-flux capacitor." Although who knows maybe that is what it was.

"Though I wouldn't dare question your scientific knowledge Sasuke," Shingen looked at the device warily. "I do not want you to accidentally transport us to yet another place in time."

"At the moment, it's coded to me, so we should be ok." Just to be extra safe, I folded my hands in my lap.

Sasuke scanned the letter to himself, making happy murmurs about science and multiverses. Then he set the letter down and sighed happily. “My day is complete. My alternate Sasuke has evidence of yet another alternate Sasuke.” He turned the device over and over in his hand.

“Yeah, according to Katsuko, there are at least four of us, so there are likely four of you too and-“

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The device vibrated violently, let out an electronic beep, and a tiny green light began blinking.

"Sasuke... what did you do?" Shingen's voice had gotten ominously quiet. I glanced around the room, looking for that odd ripple I had seen each time the device activated, but at least on that end things were normal.

"I have not begun any actions that would cause it to activate," Sasuke set the thing down. "Whatever just initiated was automatic."

"Like a self-destruct program?" Yeesh. And I'd been carrying that thing in my kimono.

"Perhaps. Or a homing beacon."

The blinking light intensified in speed, let out another SQUEE.

Then the light went out and it silenced.

@bestbryn @selenacosmic @lyds323 @lorei-writes @tele86 @akitsuneswife

#10things #10 things I hate about Mitsuhide #Mitsuhide Monday #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen sasuke #ikesen shingen #oc: katsuko #katsuverse

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krash47 · 6 months

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MC Bomber - Dynamit // Remix

youtube

#hiphop #boombap #hip hop #hip hop culture #underground hip hop #funk #rap music #90s hip hop #90s rap #remix #deutschrap #MC #Bomber #berlin #germany #Youtube

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socalwriterbee · 7 months

Text

To The Ballgame

Choices Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Sam Dalton x Marie Castro (MC) Mickey Dalton, Mason Dalton

Word Count: 1577

Rating/Warning: Teen, Fluff

Summary: Sam takes the family out for the day, hoping to give the boys and Marie a day they would never forget.

A/N: Finally able to finish a WIP and I am so excited that it is to accompany the amazing artwork from Ainna on Instagram that I shared earlier (check it out here)

To say I was in a slump would be an understatement!

A/N 2: Please excuse any errors! As always the editor was not her normal self.

Characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry

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“Boys, let’s go”

I call up to my sons, Mason, and Mickey, from the bottom of the stairs for what seems like the hundredth time. I had a surprise for the four of us, the baseball season was coming to an end and the chances of the Bronx Bombers making it into the postseason were not looking so hot but that did not stop me from going all out.

Oh, and Marie’s hometown team from LA was in New York, giving her a team to cheer for, it was sure to get me some brownie points for what I planned out, I sure could use those at the moment.

Ready to call out for the boys again, having no clue at what could be taking them so long, they were already dressed. Mason, Mickey, and I opted to wear the all-gray New York jersey instead of the classic Pinstripe, something a little different for our last game of the season, so really the three of us should be waiting on Marie. I’ll never say that out loud again.

Turning and taking a step up at the sound of something one of the boys yelled out, my face lights up at the sight before me, Marie making her way down the stairs, a smile on her face, her chestnut hair cascading down just past her shoulders, wearing the classic LA Dodger Blue cap to go with the white Dodger jersey and denim pants that hugged all her perfect curves.

“You look breathtaking Ms. Castro.” I work my gaze back up to her the moment she stops with a step or two between us.

A small laugh escapes from Marie and she turns so I can continue assessing her outfit. “Even decked out in the other teams’ colors Mr. Dalton.” She arches an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth lifts in smirk at me, tossing her black jacket over her shoulder before she stops in front of me again.

My smile widens, I take another step up the stairs, closing the space between us just a bit more. I reach out and wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her closer to me. Marie throws her arms over my shoulders and leans in to press her lips to mine.

Returning her kiss with a light press of my own, my lips faintly pressed against hers. “It’s a good thing you have that jacket to cover up a highly questionable choice in team.”

Marie throws her head back with a laugh. “Hmm… says the one with—” She begins tracing the letters across my chest. “Guess I can’t hate the jersey too much.”

My eyes widen at her words. “Are you saying that you actually like our team?” I say teasingly, knowing well enough that she would cheer on any other team before my beloved Yankees, even the one down in Boston. I almost shudder at the thought.

“I would never join the Evil Empire.” Marie says before placing another light kiss on my lips. “Never, but back to the boys, they are looking for their baseball gloves. We were looking everywhere in the room and could not find them. So, I came down to see if maybe you had seen them...”

My head drops, clearly, they forgotten we had set them on one of the chairs in the family room so they wouldn’t be looking for them at the last minute, like they were now.

“They were down here the whole time, weren’t they?”

I nod.

“I’ll go get Mason and Mickey so we can go.” Marie says.

Watching as Marie makes her way back up the stairs to grab our boys, she stops and looks over her shoulder. “If we forget to tell you, thank you Sam.”

It was the simple things that we did has a family that brought joy to my boys and Marie, even when I tended to add a little bit more to make it more extravagant then necessary. Something I couldn’t help.

And the three smiling faces I saw as we made our way to the waiting car would be worth the little extra in the end.

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The noise that came at us as we made our way down field was like no other, the sound of balls hitting against the leather of a glove, the music playing around the stadium and the chatter of other New Yorker's and a few transplants going for their respective team, mixed with Mason and Mickey’s awe as they pointed to their favorite players they saw warming up, of course this was after stopping at the concession stand to get Mickey some popcorn, that boy couldn’t wait.

As our guide led us all the way down the steps, passing our seats, to the small door next to the dugout and opening it, waiting for us to walk on the dirt of the batting box. The boys looked back towards me and Marie, “Dad.” “Sam.” Mason, Mickey and Marie said in unison surprised shock lit up their faces.

“Go on. We’re meeting some of the players before the start of the game.” My smile grew wide almost ear to ear at the excitement that the boys display as the set foot onto the field. Marie giving my hand that’s entwined with hers a gentle squeeze as she ducks her head to avoid the netting and takes a step onto the field with me right behind her.

Mason and Mickey run towards a couple of the home team players they see with our guide right behind them. I could see the animation in them as they talk and get autographs and get ready for pictures, those kids were fast, I even caught them asking for one of the players to hit a home run.

“They love this Sam.” Marie whispered in my ear.

“It was nothing.” I reply.

At that, I receive an eye roll from Marie. “Only you would say that, but it is something, look at them, look how happy they are and what makes it something is they get to experience this with their dad, not the chance to meet their favorite players but the time they are spending with you.”

Marie’s words spreads warmth in me and I fall more in love with her, not knowing that was even possible and yeah seeing the look on her face and Mason and Mickey’s was something.

I did have another little something up my sleeve before it was spoiled by one of the LA Reps waiting off to the side. “You know we are not just here for the Bronx Bombers.”

A quizzical look settles on Marie as she turns to face me. “What are you saying?”

“I was able to pull some strings so you can also meet some of your favorite players too.”

Before I could get anymore words out, I feel Marie wrap her arms around me and gifts me with a kiss on my cheek. “You didn’t have to, you know, I would have slipped on over there anyway.”

I laugh, knowing that definitely would have happened. “I know. But this way we..” I pull her closer to me. “don’t get kicked out for you getting a little too excited with the players and banning us from the ballpark before the game even begins.”

Marie gives me that innocent look of hers at calling her out. “Thank you. Mason and Mickey will never forget today, now go--.” Marie gently pushes me towards my boys. “I’m gonna go meet my future husband over there.” Marie winks at me with a little smirk before heading to the opposing dugout.

Knowing she is only joking, that still doesn’t stop me from looking over my shoulder as I head over to the small group that has gathered around some of the New York players and spot my boys getting their gloves signed.

There was nothing like being on at the baseball field on a Sunday afternoon, the sky a bright blue with sparse clouds and the sun making it just perfect. After spending some time talking, taking pictures and getting autographs, the four of us stand at home plate I looked down at Marie, catching her looking up at me with a smile on her face that I return, Mason and Mickey one on each side ready for the picture that will capture this happy moment forever.

Lost in the whiskey color of Marie’s eyes, I almost missed the photographer asking if we would like to look at the picture. The empty feeling of losing Marie’s touch as she made her way towards the photographer brought me back to the now.

The boys and Marie look down at the screen of the camera to see the captured moment. A chuckle escapes from Marie as she looks on, ruffling the hair of Mickey as he shoves more popcorn in his mouth.

Standing next to them, I look down and see our family photo. The four of us standing at home plate with the outfield as our backdrop, Marie and I locked in a look that can be described as loving. Mickey being mischievous, his signature style and Mason the only one of us ready and waving at the camera.

Marie and I both look up at each other at the same time she speaks before I could say anything. “I think this captures us perfectly.”

I couldn’t have agreed more.

Now every time I walk by and see our family outing, it brings me back to that day our little family was happy.

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tags: @choicesficwriterscreations @cariantha @issabees @peonierose @txemrn

#the nanny affair #choices tna #choices sam dalton #sam dalton x mc #marie castro x sam dalton #sam x marie #to the ballgame fic

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