#Army of hotdogs

[kizzer55555]

The power of hotdogs

Danny is running to Gotham to escape the GIW. As he’s running into an alleyway, he crashes into non other than condiment king who proceeds to attack and hits the GIW goons behind him. This absolutely terrifies them due to the fact that their prestigious white clothes will be stained. The fact that he has people running in terror gives Condiment king a giddy feeling so he proceeds to chase them around Gotham.

Thus starts Danny’s constant exploits of running to condiment king when he’s being chased and the rogue scarring the living daylights out of the GIW. They develop nightmares and Condiment king starts developing new concoctions that will specifically stain clothes and never come out. Mwa ha ha!

Eventually, Danny gets adopted by the rogue and becomes his sidekick. Now, when people learned that condiment king got a new sidekick, they laughed. Who in their right mind would want to mentor under him. They believed that this was some poor sob who was down on their luck and truly desperate. That or some weirdo like the ‘king’ himself.

But they didn’t understand.

They didn’t understand that they should never have let Danny Fenton (known as Phantom) become Condiment King’s sidekick.

Danny knows how to animate hotdogs and other foods to create an army. Danny knows intimately about the secret nasty burger sauce that is capable of powerful explosions of you heat it up. Danny has knowledge in the usage and how to build various weaponry designed to shoot or even be powered by green sludge (which can easily be replaced by ketchup, mustard, or relish).

And he hasn’t even shown Gotham his power-set yet. No one knows why he calls himself phantom. For all they know, he’s just a normal (terrifying) human.

Everyone blames the GIW for this mess.

[dailybehbeh]

Behbeh

[angelbambisworld]

God i wish I was that hot dog

[bitchesuntitled]

Softer

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s feeling a tad self-conscious

Warnings/Tags: Humor, No outbreak AU, Tommy being an asshole in a brotherly way, fluff, pregnancy, sympathetic pregnancy, blended families, strip tease, nothing bad happens to Sarah ever and Ellie's your kid, and I think that’s it?

A/N: Thank you much @strang3lov3, @whocaresstillthelouvre, @jay-zzle for your eyes and Jai also for the moodboard!!! 😍🥰😘

This is for @beefrobeefcal’s Joel Sat on Me challenge! I hope you laugh at this as much as I did writing it 😅

Masterlist||AO3

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The gender reveal/baby shower was going off without a hitch. Maria was making sure people knew where to put gifts, Tommy was helping Joel at the grill, while your mom was helping you put the Boy or Girl banner around you. You hate this kind of attention but Maria and your parents both wanted to make a show of it. Despite your arguments on tradition being only for the first baby.

“Well, it’s you and Joel’s first baby together,” Maria deadpanned, all while your mom nodded along.

“Can’t beat that logic!” Your dad grinned.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes, “Good thing it’s the last one too.” 

Joel smirked, his palm caressing your thigh, “It’ll be fine,” he whispered in your ear, “Least there will be cake,” he added with a shrug. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t beat that logic!” You reply mockingly, sticking your tongue out.

—

“Mom!” Ellie shouts, “Sarah’s trying to sneak into the cake!”

“Quit being such a narc!” Sarah laughs, playfully smacking Ellie’s arm, “You want to know just as much as I do!”

“Girls!” Joel hollers. “Come help your uncle Tommy set up!”

Both girls walk to the grill, helping Tommy carry hamburgers and hotdogs to the table.

“Alright everyone!” Maria announces, raising her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Parents-to-be first!”

“Hey momma,” Joel grins, meeting you at the food table and placing a soft kiss on your temple, “What ya in the mood for?”

“More like what is the baby in the mood for?” you grumble, trying to adjust the sash around your body. “I hate this fucking thing,” you hiss.

“Just gotta eat, cut the cake and get through presents then I’ll kick everyone out,” Joel reassures.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble, grabbing a plate and staring at the food. The baby decided it wanted corn on the cob, a burger with all the extras, potato salad, and a small salad with more ranch on it than lettuce.

“Jesus Joel,” Tommy laughed when you both got to one of the tables. “Your woman’s the one eatin’ for two not you!”

Everyone looked at Joel with his plate piled high with two burgers, two hotdogs, and plenty of sides to feed a small army. You saw the flush creeping up his neck as he sat next to you. Joel opened his mouth to say something but Maria interrupted.

“Oh hush,” Maria said, smacking Tommy softly on the shoulder.

“Probably going through that sympathetic pregnancy thing,” a guest piped in. “My husband did that too!”

“Sympathetic pregnancy?” Ellie asked with her mouth full of potato salad. Your mom begins to laugh, shaking her head at Ellie.

“Ellie, gross,” you hiss. “Finish eating before you speak.”

Ellie makes a show of swallowing her food before speaking again. “What the hell is sympathetic pregnancy?”

“Ellie,” you groan. “Language! I haven’t spent the past 13 years raising a hellion!”

“And just think, you’re starting over!” your dad laughs.

Joel, meanwhile, keeps pushing the food around on his plate, taking smaller bites of the sides.

“Okay, googled it!” Sarah announces to the table, wagging her phone and clearing her throat. “Google says, c- cou- nevermind, I’m not even gonna try. Sympathetic pregnancy is a proposed condition in which an expectant father experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner. These most often include major weight gain, altered hormone levels, morning nausea, and disturbed sleep patterns.”

“That why you were asking for Pepto the other day at the site?” Tommy asks, nudging Joel’s shoulder before sitting down. “Dealing with some morning sickness as well?”

“Damn it Tommy,” Joel growls, balling up his fist. “If you don’t cut it out-“

“Alright, alright,” Maria hisses. “Enough.” She adds pointing at Tommy.

—

Joel stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself. Marriage had been good to him. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline the moment he got you pregnant. He hadn’t thought about it before but Tommy got in his head. Especially when he announced to everyone at the party it made sense now why Joel had to move his tool belt to the next hole for it to fit.

“Whatcha lookin’ at hot stuff?” You smirk, standing in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom with your toothbrush in hand.

“Thinkin’ I need to go on a diet,” Joel huffs out, turning towards you with his hands on his hips.

“The fuck would you do that for?!”

“Tommy’s ri—“

“I swear if the next words out of your mouth are Tommy’s right.” You pout, trying your best to not let the toothpaste escape your mouth as you move back into the bathroom, spitting into the sink, “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Going back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching Joel find his pajamas for the night. Sure, he’s gotten thicker in the middle since you got pregnant. His pants fit a bit tighter around his thighs. His chest, oh god his chest, the way your hands grip onto the meaty pecs he has now. You make a small noise at the memory of this morning before the girls woke up, and how you rode him as best you could with your swollen belly in the way, slick pooling in your underwear.

“What?” Joel asks, turning to look at you, noticing that feral glint in your eyes. He’s seen it more and more as the months have gone by. Sarah’s mom was nothing compared to you at this stage in pregnancy. Revved up and ready to go 24/7 these days.

“Tommy’s got it totally wrong,” you grin, “I love the way you look these days Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to face you, “what.. uh.. what about it?”

“Dad bod through and through,” you hum, adjusting on the bed to sit a little further back. “Was thinking about this morning, how I can hold onto your chest a little better with your pecs being a little softer.”

“Yeah?” Joel grins, watching your eyes track his fingers as they open the first couple buttons of his flannel, his chest barely peeking out through the fabric, “Should I put on a show?”

“I wanna see my man!” you let out a breath nodding your head eagerly.

“Feel like we need some music or something,” Joel says, letting out a shy laugh, trailing his palms down the front of his shirt, popping open more of the buttons. You begin humming 70’s porno music, “No thank you, that’s enough.”

You shrug letting out a giggle as he continues unbuttoning his shirt, his strong chest and thick belly being revealed as he rips the flannel shirt back in a dramatic fashion, spreading his legs wide and tilting his head to sway his curls behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Napoleon Dynamite. Ya gonna take it off or what?”

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, straightening up, pinning you with a look, pulling his flannel back over his shoulders, “Listen, I’ve never done this for anybody. I’d ‘preciate if ya didn’t make rude comments.”

You clear your throat and lean your arms back against the bedding to prop yourself up, “Sorry, horny goblins took over, proceed.”

With his flannel shirt open, he starts flipping his belt open, stalking towards you, nodding your head at this new development, sliding his belt out quickly from his belt loops causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“Mmmm,” you moan softly, thighs squeezing together, and squirming on the bed “Joel. You look so fucking good like this.”

Joel spins around to show you his backside before slipping one shoulder of the flannel off, turning his head to the side with a smirk as he slowly slides it off his arm, followed by the other. You hear the button and zipper of his jeans sliding down. He begins teasing you with his jeans, dropping them some before pulling them back up and swiveling his hips, he puts one foot on the opposite leg to try and help pull the leg out.

“Fuck!” He yelps, as he falls back sitting on you, “Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Ow!” You groan, smacking his ass to get him to move. He rolls off you to lay beside you on the bed.

“You good?” Joel asks, laying on his side next to you, placing his palm on your belly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you grin, placing your hand on top of his with a sigh. “No Magic Mike in here, but for your first attempt that was good Miller,” you add with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Joel grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Fuck. Please!” You groan, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

[laswells-ashtray]

I personally really like the idea of the Shadows being kinda like Phillip's lil family. So...

On an op before 141, the fucker gets injured pulling a Shadow away from a rotting patch of wooden floor while sweeping an old church. He lands himself a fractured ankle, splinters quite literally up the ass, and bruising like a bitch after falling through the floor himself.

So nothing too bad.

He comes off the comes off the painkillers to a hoard of puppy-eyed men in various stages of uniform dress.

Blah blah blah fluff happens

His ass hurts. It shouldn't be his first thought but his ass hurts. The same way it did when he took a drunken tumble down a flight of stairs as a teenager and bruised half of his damn body. He knows that after that shitshow of a job [that they'd been paid an abysmally low amount for given the conditions] he had showered, changed into sweatpants, taken some good quality fucking painkillers and he conked out on the closest surface.

Which he now realises is the old ass couch they all collectively refuse to get rid of despite its various stains and the knife stuck in one of its legs. He blinks before rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. There are at least five Shadows around him, maybe six. They might be multiplying.

Oz catches his eye and he looks far too amused for someone that still owes him ten dollars and a Costco hotdog, but he'll bring up that bet later.

"Feeling alright, commander?"

He stares back at the man with an unamused look, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He was being watched like he was holding a bag of fries and he'd just stepped into pigeon territory.

"Fuck are you starin' for? Oz, if there's a dick on my face-"

"There isn't, couldn't take one of the kids into doing it. Just wondering if you're hungry because you took those painkillers on an empty stomach then passed out half-dead."

Damn right, none of the younger Shadows would draw a dick on his face. They were too scared to, Oz? Not so much but he was stuck with the shithead at this point.

"Could go something. Mind telling me why you've got a small army of Shadows present for this conversation?"

"Well, Petrillo was here to look at your ankle while you were too unconscious to notice. Garfield is here to try and talk you into buying Chick-fil-A with company money. And-"

"My name isn't Garfield-"

"You hate Mondays. Anyway, and the kids are here because they've never seen you land on your ass like that before and wanted to check how you're doing but they're too scared to ask for themselves."

That checks. He looks around at the three younger Shadows who have all now decided to stop staring at him and instead at the floor.

"Christ, I'm fine. If you can't take a fall like that then you can't do the fucking job. And I'll pay for the Chick-fil-A but I ain't going to get it, drag your lazy ass to do it."

Only then does he notice the fact that there's a bag of frozen peas under his ankle.

[azulhood]

Alright, random idea about the Twin AU, or any AU where Danny is an Al Ghul. Everyone knows that Ra's has an entire army of assassins, but what about the dead assassins? I doubt Ra's is dipping everybody in the Lazarus pit.

So, what if they went to the ghost zone?

And then when Danny dies, these assassins, who are extremely loyal to the Al Ghul family, immediately start following him.

The main assassin in charge, I'm gonna call him Carl, whose been around since the very beginning of the league, who was Ra's right hand man, starts acting as Danny's second in command basically becoming his Alfred.

Carl orders some of the assassins to help Danny out with some small stuff, like distracting some of the rouges so he gets to school on time, killing the hotdogs in the fridge so the little prince doesn't die of poisoning, setting off a Fenton invention so Danny get make a getaway. He definitely orders them to not interfere in big fights, unless Danny really needs the help, as a way for Danny to learn how to fight.

Carl has no idea who the GIW is, but he's gonna find out and then he's gonna blackmail/threaten/unalive some people.

Danny doesn't even know that he's suddenly gained a ghost army, all he knows is that there's a few helpful ghosts hanging around that really hate hotdogs. And then when Danny becomes the ghost king, hoo boy. The assassins replace the old ghost kings army, set up their own system and chains of command just completely change everything. Carl takes FrightKnights place as the king's right hand man/ bodyguard, makes sure all the members of the royal family are safe and is ready to fist fight the time ghost if he makes one more attempt to get his job.

Danny: I wanna be an astronaut. Carl who has no idea what that is: Sure, just let me do some info gathering and blackmail some people. Danny: What? And imagine the batfams reaction.

[cranberryjuice-posts]

- out of my league -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Hecate! Reader

Based on - out of my league

An - im having the worst fucking migraines ever

You silently closed your window. “Ready?” You smiled over at clarisse who quietly nodded. Both of you wearing warm clothing as it was getting cold out.

“Got the money?” She asked adjusting the spear that was on her back. “Yup!” Confirming the previous question by holding up your wallet. “Common Let’s get going before we’re caught” you chuckled grabbing clarisses arm leading her into the woods.

You and clarisse had been friends for a few years. Both arriving at camp and being claimed around the same time you both grew close. In most scenarios ares kids didn’t really hang out with minor kids Espically the Hecate group, but that never stopped you both.

Clarisse liked you. She knew she did, she always had. You were the complete opposite of her, kind calm considerate.. that’s what made you both the perfect pair.

For the past few weeks clarisse had been trying to ask you out on a date. From trying to get you to go on a walk with her after the bonfire to picking strawberries with her. every time the idea came though up she was never able to actually ask the question.

What she didn’t expect was for you to ask her on a mid night run to a gas station a mile down the road. Clarisse quickly agreed and now found herself here

Reaching the edge of the camp you chuckled some. “Ready” you smiled, Walking out the camp border.

Taking a deep sigh clarisse stepped through the border and followed you down the road.

——

The walk there was entertaining. Clarisse getting threatened by the smallest of noises think they were a monster thus making you laugh.

Deciding to play 21 questions, the daughter of ares took a minute to think of her final question for you. “All right uh.. Why do you like the night so much” she shrugged her shoulders

“Really that’s your question” You laughed, however taking note of clarisses serious face you rolled your eyes. “I guess the reason why I like the night so much is because nyx and Hecate used the darkness as a way to help viel women and witches who were running away so they wouldn’t be caught.. it’s comforting in a way especially after I ran away” you smiled while shrugging your shoulders. Before clarisse could respond You changed the topic at hand

“Oh! There it is” you happily smiled grabbing clarisses Hand without realizing it leading her inside he glowing seven eleven.

Almost immediately you made your way down to the slushy machine. “Here try it” You handed the coke flavored drink over. The daughter of ares looked suspicious but took a sip of the drink. “Only shit”

“I know!”

Being at camp since you were barley 10 it made you learn to appreciate the smaller things in life. Walking towards the back of the store You took an elaborate pair of shades off the rack“How do these sunglasses Look on me”

“Like an idiot”

“Rude”

“You wanted me to be honest”

Rolling your eyes dramatically you set the glasses onto clarisse smiling as they made her look equally as dumb. “There now we’re both idiots” both of your faces were close, if either of you leaned forward your would be kissing. Gently patting her cheeks you walked away down yet another isle trying to ignore your burning cheeks.

——

Now walking up to the counter with an assortment of candies, chips, two slushies, multiple sodas and three hotdogs you payed the fee and walked out with clarisse following in suit.

Looking over you saw the normally strong guard girl smiling as she ate her hotdog. “Oh is clarisse smiling?” You teased.

“Shut up” she chuckled gently bumping her hip into yours. “Only if you tell me what’s got you in a good mood”

After some back and forth clarisse eventually agreed. “When I was younger My mom like you know she was in the army, when we were moving around the country and going to school to school my mom would stop at gas-stations and get me some comfort foods one being a Hot Dog” she sarcastically admitted. You hummed happily looking down at your long finished snack. “When we’re older and leave camp the first thing I wanna do is meet your mom”

It was like the world stopped for clarisse.. you.. you wanted to meet her mom. “Why that’s stupid”

“Not Everything is stupid clarisse, and not everything has to have some elaborate reason.” Giving her a playful dirty look you chuckled as she gently shoved you.

—

Growing closer to the boarder of camp halfblood, your slushys long discarded and half the bag of food eaten you decided to run ahead some. However one you entered the general forest area near camp you stepped in the wrong spot at the wrong moment.

Almost immediately you were tackled to the ground with a monster one you couldn’t identity in the dark towering over you, the gross slobber is dripping down your face you tried to push it off with no avail.

The next thing you heard was clarisse screaming as she stabbed the monster. “Don’t fucking touch her!” She yelled. You were trying to collect your breath as the wind was knocked out of you. Standing up some you balanced on clarisse, watching the monster disgenerate you looked up worried.

“Shit Are You ok” she quickly questioned grabbing your face, taking off her jacket she started to clean the slobber and blood off of your face. “I’m fine, hey look see I’m not bleeding it was probably just a hound sniffing around.. I’ll be ok” you grabbed the nervous girls wrist while trying to help her calm down.

Clarisse Just nodded in response. “Let’s get back to camp” she sighed, grabbing the two plastic bags off the ground she held your hand, refusing to let it go until you were inside the border.

——

Once at the Hermes cabin clarisse helped you silently open the window. Climbing inside you groaned, after the attack you had pulled a muscle in your back.

“It still hurts” she asked worried. Nodding you gave her a forgetful frown. Watching as she started to walk away you decided to tease her some. “Where are you going?”

“Bed. It’s 3am”

“So you’re really leaving without a goodbye kiss?”

“And Why would i do That” she stopped, turning around with a currious look “Because you like me” you quickly responded with a charming smile.

“I- I do not I don’t know where—“

“Yes you do. And it’s ok because I like you to”

Her shocked expression made you laugh once again, muttered a small spell you pulled the girl back over to the window. Leaning down out you kissed her softly. Clarisses arms were tied down to her side with your spell, but you found it amusing how she still tried her best to kiss you back.

Pulling away you undid the spell and finger waved at clarisse while closing the window. “Wait! YN you can’t do—!”

“Goodnight clarisse” You sarcastically teased blowing her a kiss before completely shutting the window

“Yn!!” She finally yelled.. clarisse rubbed her eyes, what the hell was she going to do with you.

Clarisse - So We’re dating

Y/n - yes

Clarisse - ok.. im ok with that

Y/n - *raising an eyebrow* everything ok clarisse

Clarisse - *standing with a hand over her mouth and looking down critically* yup

——

[flowersintheimpala69]

14 year old sammy being invited by some boys in his class to his first party and more importantly his first highschool party and he’s so excited and giddy cuz he’s never really had friend before cuz they move around sm and other kids are usually put off by the random bruises (from hunts) that adorn his body and his Salvation Army clothes that are too big and his tattered shoes with holes and even tho dean is sorta in the same boat, dean is 18 and handsome and has girls all over them and sam is still awkwardly gangly. Plus the boys who invited him are part of “the cool crowd” so it feels extremely validating for them to even notice him.

anyways, Sam is hella excited and he spends an hour before hand getting ready in the bathroom and picking out his outfit and while dean would normally tease him abt it he dosent cuz he knows this is a big deal for sam and he’s so glad that his baby brother is finally making friends because he knows sammy is actually really smart and fun to be around and it breaks his heart that he never has friends to go out with.

Dean drives him to the house where that party is happening at like 8 pm and pats him on the shoulder and tells him not to drink too much and to use protection and sam yells “Dean!” and blushes deep red but then Dean tells him to have fun and that he’ll come pick him up at midnight and to “go get them tiger” and sam gives him a little smile

deans at home when at 10:00 he gets a call and it’s an unknown number but sometimes dad calls from unknown numbers so he picks up but it’s not his dads voice on the other line.

“Dean?”

It’s unmistakably Sam’s voice, but it sounds strained and shaky. Deans immediately worried and asks if everything’s all right and sam just tells him he need Dean to pick him up. And deans like okay I’ll be right there what’s the address of the house again??

And sam tells him he’s actually not at the house anymore (which worries and confuses the fuck out of dean) and says he’s about a mile away at a pay phone and he says the street corner and apologizes for making Dean drive the extra mile

And deans internally like “wtf??” Cuz sam never apologizes and starts wondering if he’s just rlly drunk. He puts a pin in it and drives to the street sam said and sure enough sitting on the curb is a sammy-looking lump. Dean leaves the engine running but gets out of the car cuz sam is still just sitting there and he starts worrying that he has alcohol poisoning but then before Dean can even reach sam, he’s up and running towards Dean and pressing his face into his chest and hugging him.

And. That’s so weird. Cuz sam is in his angsty teen phase where he dosent want to be as huggy or cuddly with dean cuz that’s “embarrassing” yet here he is pressing himself against Dean so hard it’s like he’s trying to become part of him.

Sam dosent say anything in the car or when they start driving. Dean decides this is definitely not okay and he needs to do smth so he pulls into a gas station and gets himself a raspberry slushie and sam the cola slushie he likes and he gets them hotdogs (with extra onions and mustard for sam just the way he likes it) and he drives to a little deserted backroad and they sit on the hood of the car while eating and looking at the stars

And Dean hopes the food will put sam into a better mood but besides a quiet “thanks” when Dean had handed him the food sam stays silent and it’s so not sam-like. Deans abt to prompt an explanation but sam speaks first.

“Sorry you had to pick me up,”

“It’s okay, I really didn’t mind”

Sam’s quiet for a moment then in a small and shaky voice that makes deans heart break asks “Dean, you like me, right? Like you think I’m.. you think I’m cool right?”

and deans suddenly angry cuz obviously those stupid kids must have said something to sam and but he knows Sam dosent need him yelling rn so he takes a deep breath and pulls sam into his side, sliding a hand against his nape.

“Sammy of course I like you. You’re the smartest, coolest, funniest little brother one could ask for.”

Sam smiles a bit at that and rest his head against deans shoulder, “thanks Dean.”

Dean dosent ask what the those kids must have said to him but after a moment sam starts talking unprompted.

“The uh, guys who invited me, they uh did it like as a joke,” he sniffles, “and I didn’t realize but then they started calling me a girl and saying I was a pussy and someone wanted to uh, check if I had a, um, like if I had a-if I was like a woman down there and they pushed me down and tried to take off my pants and I-I didn’t..” sam trails off with a sniff.

Dean can feel Sam’s wet face against his neck. “Oh sammy, I’m so sorry, they’re assholes don’t pay mind to them—“

“But they’re right! They pushed me down and dad trained me-us-I could’ve totally fought back but-I don’t know I froze like a girl and just let it happen-I am a fucking pussy-“ sam is interrupted by a hiccup and then starts full on sobbing and dean can only pull sam into his lap and let him sob into his chest. Sam spends the next 20 minutes sobbing and babbling into deans collar about how he wishes he wasn’t a fucking freak and wants to be normal and at one point he leans off the side of the car to puke cuz he’s crying so hard and he’s so sorry Dean I didn’t mean to get sick I’m so gross I’m sorry and deans heart breaks.

Dean has to carry sam into the car and then the motel cuz he’s so exhausted from crying. Sam stays home from school the next day. John comes home that night, and dean convinces him to let them leave town the next morning.

They don’t ever talk about it after that.

[wee-toe]

Lesssgiddditt!! x

[kremlin]

"This event ends the moment you write us a check, and it better not bounce, or you're a dead motherfucker" -- Big Bill Hell

There was a time when you'd see little old ladies paying for the groceries with a hand-written personal check, holding up the line, causing an immediately-forgiven slight sense of annoyance with those behind her. Buddy. Those days are over. They've been over. What, did you think you were going to just pop a couple extra zeroes on the end of your paycheck there? Maybe scan your paycheck, open it in photoshop, make a template, print em out all nice? You think you're the first to think of that, dipshit?

It takes the law a long time to catch up with the state of the art. You're reading this on the internet, which means you never use checks. The law has caught up. Your ass will be going to prison immediately and you will see zero return.

You can't even kite checks anymore, and hell, nobody under 40 will even know what that means, due to the blazing fast, two day settlement on all ACH transactions. Let me paint you a picture.

You get paid on Friday, but it is Monday, and bills are due on Tuesday. And you're broke: $0 in the bank. Goose egg. Pop open your checkbook, go to a store, "buy" some things, write a check for the amount. The cashier takes it!

Now take those things you "bought", across town, to another store location, and return them for cold hard cash. Sweet. Bills paid. Friday rolls around, and you just make it to the bank to deposit your paycheck before it closes. After the weekend, the checks you wrote finally post, and they don't bounce! You've kited a check. You've surreptitiously taken a zero-interest loan. And we know your broke ass. The interest rate on that short-term payday loan should have been straight up usurious. We're talking 29%. That makes predatory fuckers like us horny for sex. We're so mad. Now you are going to Federal Prison. For a good minute. Fuckface.

COST: $0.10 (With banks offering free checking accounts + Bic pen)

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor sleet, if you fuck with the mail, we'll rip your nuts off" -- Ronald Mail (Inventor of Mail)

Many people have this misnomer that the most powerful people in politics are democratically elected. The president, of the United States, of America, is a stupid cartoon hotdog. All of them, I don't care. Way less clout than you'd think. Brilliantly, it is the people that the hotdog president appoints who are actually doing anything significant. The director of the CIA. The fucking chairman of the Federal Reserve. Probably the, like, most senior, uh, general of the military, and shit too. I don't know, we don't "do" army here at Bloomberg. You probably don't even know their names! I don't! These are the ones you should be seeing in your sleep.

There's another position like that. Appointed directly by the hotdog. The Postmaster General. That's a real title. He's the CEO of the mail, and buddy, what he may lack in political power relative to the director of the CEO, he makes up in raw sexual energy. Total Tom Selleck energy. Like an airline pilot. We're talking Donald Sutherland in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I'm tentpoling in my black business slacks just writing this, and all my Bloomberg newsroom bros are peering over my shoulder and also tent-poling. We're not gay though, and especially me, I'm probably the least gay, but sometimes I just lay awake for hours at night what that mustache would feel like pressed against my lips, the unbelievable and utter, total sense of security I'd feel burying my head into his hard chest.

You get it. He's your dad. And if you fuck with the mail, you've fucked with the tools in your dad's garage. And dad's been drinking. You're in for it, bucko, you are in trouble. Do you think the United States Postal Service actually makes any money? Hell no. It costs like five bucks to mail a box basically anywhere I can think of and they give you the boxes for free. You can just walk in the post office and take them. I do that, and then just throw them away, I don't know why, some kind of compulsion. Being able to move shit around like this, quickly, cheaply -- Jesus H, I've got a huge amount of money in my bank account, probably tens of trillions of dollars (due to financial knowledge gained from reading Bloomberg articles) and I could probably mail every single person ever something and still come out in the black.

No way pal. They've thought of that already. The Postmaster General is going to know every time, and he's going to grab you by the shirt collar, wearing his cool as fuck hat, and you're going to get your pants pulled down, and your bare ass spanke...I need to go use the restroom real quick.

We rely on the mail system to get important shit done. It's not something to be taken lightly, and it isn't. Trust me. This is why, like almost every other person who receives mail in this year 2023, I just fucking put a wastebasket under my mail slot. I don't even shred that shit anymore. I just burn it. Takes less time.

COST: $0.63 (Postal stamp)

"Can call all you want, but there's no one home // And you're not gonna reach my telephone // Out in the club, and I'm sipping that bubb // And you're not gonna reach my telephone" -- Lady Gaga

I read something wild that the children of today do not know what a dial tone is, because of how fucked up and stupid they are. Isn't that super fucked up?

While it's not really our style, allow me to fill you in on some ancient, arcane knowledge about the telephone. You can turn it on, and then you can punch in numbers. Any numbers. Random ones, or maybe not random ones. If the ten numbers you punch in are the same as the numbers in someone else's telephone number, their phone will ring, and then you are talking to them. This is called "Phreaking".

Here's the kicker: You can tell that jackass anything you want. "Oh, Hi, Yes, I am Reginald Sumpter calling from Avalon Consulting LLC, we are just following up on the invoice we sent you. Please remit to ###### routing ###### account."

BOOM! Your name isn't Reginald whatever and that company doesn't exist, but you just received a deposit. It's fucking beautiful. What have you done wrong? It isn't your responsibility to handle who your business' clients/etc are, it's their's. If they want to just pay you money for no real reason, well, that's kind of on them, isn't it? I haven't stuck a pistol in your face and demanded everything in the register.

Well, it's too clever. It's too slick. This is the United States of America. It's one thing to commit a felony like armed robbery, it's another thing to piss off someone in charge of the accounting division who uses a special bathroom you need a key to get into.

You can do it on the computer too, I use a PC Computer at work and send email, so you can see how it'd work there. You can make a document that is indifferentiable from a real invoice and, straight up, 1/3 of the time they will pay that shit. Lmfao.

It's called wire fraud because, uhh, duhhhh, there's wires. What do you think that thing is strung between the telephone receiver and the dialer? And computers? Give me a break. There's so many wires with those.

COST: $0.25 (Coin for payphone)

"People calculate too much and think too little." -- Charlie Munger

It is insane how dumb the common man can be when it comes to our world of expertise. I hear this same sentiment, like, ALL THE TIME:

"Durr hurr I will buy an insurance policy for my car or house or whatever so that in case something happens to it I will get money". And then that same person proceeds to drive safely or not burn their house down. Dumbest crap imaginable.

Let me break it down for you. Insurance is a two player competitive game. There is a winner and there is a loser. Go take out an expensive insurance policy on your American sports car. Buy a neck brace, a football helmet, and pack that bitch with throw pillows. Then get in the left lane of a major highway at like noonish, let it rip and then SLAM on your brakes. Hit from behind! Your fault! Congratulations. You have won insurance. How this gets past people is beyond me.

You can only do this once or twice before the insurance companies catch on. Then they don't want to fuck with you. It is also..I don't know man...something feels off about taking a car or a house, which like, some guy had to build and just destroying it, but that is only a weird emotional thing, since you're making money, more than whatever the destroyed thing is worth, so in reality you've built that house plus some extra. You've contributed.

COST: $106.00 (Average monthly car insurance payment)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

SUBSCRIBE TO MY WHATEVER FOR PART TWO, COMING SOON. i'll post it later today probably. whatever time frame will juice the numbers. have a sneaky peaky

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[the-californicationist]

The Fourth of July

Another gift fic for another awesome friend of mine! Stockings are getting stuffed left and right this year. <3 <3

Alex/FReader - foreign reader, blowjob/Facefuck, spit kink, soft!Alex

You are celebrating your first July 4th with Alex and his friends at your brother's lake house. Seeing the booming fireworks, eating hotdogs, and drinking out of those red solo cups - just like the movies - has been so much fun. But, you and Alex get a little carried away in the pool house.

MDNI/18+

AO3 Link

When he picked you up for the party, Alex looked like he was Mr. USA. His fluorescent blue swim trunks were short, the hem sitting high on his huge, muscular thighs, showing off his carbon fiber leg. The arms of his old Army tee shirt were sliced open, giving you a view of his endless, tanned skin. His ribs and abs rippled beneath the surface as he parked the Silverado in the road and hopped out of it to greet you. 

You’d never wanted to run your hands through a shock of hair so badly in your life, buried under a bright red trucker cap with the bill turned backwards. He was smacking his gum loudly, and he was already sunburnt across his nose. 

“Hey, there. You ready for some freedom?”

You smiled, enjoying his American accent,

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I think.”

“C’mon. Your brother’s waitin’ for us at the house. Got about fifty pounds of barbeque workin’ on the pit, I’ll bet.”

He grabbed your bag and threw it into the back of his truck before grabbing your arm and helping you into the lifted cab of the vehicle. Your swimsuit coverup billowed in the wind, and he gently gathered it up for you, moving it away so it wouldn’t get caught in the heavy door. 

Alex pulled himself into the driver’s seat, flexing his tattooed forearms as he settled into position, gripping the wheel tightly. As you looked closer, you started to notice little scars, nothing major. But, you were always quick to forget what his day job was: CIA war machine. He threw on a pair of hot-pink sunglasses with a floater neck strap attached, and handed you his spare pair. You slipped them on, feeling much cooler than you thought you should. As you pulled onto the road, he cranked up the music until you couldn’t even hear yourself think. 

You took the opportunity of being bathed in sound to study him from across the center console of the truck. The landscape of America - strip centers and wooded fields - rushed by you unadmired, and you were trapped by him. You thought you’d gotten away with a long, delicious appraisal, but he flipped his glasses down his nose and peeked over them at you. The look in his eye made you blush. 

He turned the music down and stared at you while the huge truck idled at a red light. His voice was nice and even as he asked,

“What are you lookin’ at, darlin’?”

“Nothing,” you tried to be dismissive, playing coy but doing it badly. 

An enormous, rough hand grabbed you around your knee,

“Nothin’? Like what you were wearin’ in that snap you sent me last week, nothin’?”

You blushed pink. The light turned green. Alex stayed staring at you, squeezing your leg, until someone behind him honked, and even then he took his sweet time. 

“Mmhm,” you said, waiting for his next move as he drove onward, revving the truck’s angry engine.

“Did you tell him yet?” Alex asked, threading his fingers through yours as you captured it from your lap..

“No,” you laughed under your breath, “I think you’d have known by now if I had.”

He laughed with you, readjusting his cap,

“I think I’d have a black eye by now.”

You grimaced in reply, knowing your brother’s temper. He wouldn’t be thrilled to see you flirting with his best friend from when he was enlisted. Alex saw you frown, and he held your hand a little tighter, saying,

“Worth it.” 

You drew in a tight breath and looked over at him. His gaze stayed on the road this time, pushing the speed limit, taking the exit to the lake. 

You’d known Alex Keller ever since your brother moved to Clearwater. Your brother, Charlie, had studied at university and he had fallen in love with a man who was in Alex’s old regiment. They’d gotten married, and now, Charlie had his green card and everything. All of Alex’s friends and army buddies had brought Charlie into the fold. He was even driving a Ford F-150 these days. If it wasn’t for his Kiwi accent, he could’ve passed as a true American. 

You tried to come over to see Charlie and his husband, Greg, every summer. But, with the restrictions in place, it had been a few years. This would be a happy reunion as long as he didn’t discover the relationship blooming between you and his best friend, Alex. 

It had been an accident, really. Charlie had lost his phone, and Alex had called you by accident, trying to find it. Then, you had just…kept calling. They were late night talks for you, and early morning talks for him, but you and Alex just seemed to have so much to say to each other. When he flew out to Urzikstan for dangerous missions, or over to Russia to do God knows what, he would always send you back some little trinkets from his trip. 

You knew it was a lie. You knew, in your heart, that he had been over there killing people and saving the world from whatever horrors were terrorizing those deep, dark places. But, when you got a little glass camel figurine in the mail, its box covered in a million stamps, you put it on your window sill and watched the light dance through it like it hadn’t been shipped from some sort of master of war. But, if you were truly honest with yourself, you didn't give a shit. 

You’d been talking for about six months now, and the build up to your trip was intense. The anticipation was killing you both. Seeing him now, feeling the bones of his hand in yours as you massaged the tiny muscles inside of his palm, it was all too much. You needed Charlie to understand that you had fallen madly in love with his best friend.

“I think we should tell him,” Alex said, interrupting your thoughts.

“Shit,” you scoffed, “He’s gonna lose it.”

“I don’t want to keep hiding you away. And maybe…” you heard the familiar tones of doubt in his throat, “Maybe I’m not the kind of man your brother wants for you. But, I can be.”

You kissed the back of his hand, letting the tiny hairs tickle your skin. The lake house wasn’t far, but you wanted to reassure him more than just chaste affection. 

“I’m eager to see the kind of man you can be,” you turned the seduction up to eleven, hoping he wouldn’t immediately laugh at you. 

He didn’t laugh. If anything, other than a flash of panic in his eyes, he didn’t move. He allowed you to flip his hand over, its wide palm facing the sky as you planted kiss after kiss onto his skin. You felt his breathing quicken, rippling through his limbs. Finally, you took his forefinger into your mouth and began to gently suck on its tip. It was salty, and probably unclean, but you didn’t care. You kept going, moving your mouth up and down his thick digit as if it were his cock. And goddamn did you want it to be his cock.

The phone calls had turned flirtatious, and then downright lascivious, in the last few months. Once, while he was hiding in a bunker somewhere in Ukraine, he’d called you, desperate. You listened to him as he pulled hungrily on his cock, letting you listen to the wet slipping sounds of his fist pounding into his skin, searching for release. He’d begged for your mouth. He said it was all he could think about, and the gorgeous little whimpering noises he made had set it in your mind. You dreamed about blowing him for weeks. You thought about how his come would taste when you had been sitting in the terminal and waiting on your plane. You were going to suck the life out of Alex Keller at this fucking party tonight if it was the last thing you ever did. 

“Oh,” his voice was shaking and quiet, “Fuuuuuck.”

One more strong suck on his finger and you let him loose, wiping away the wetness with your hand, lacing your fingers back through his as if nothing had happened. 

His breathing was ragged, and his hand was trembling. The lake house was just up ahead, and as Alex pulled into the drive, he took his hand back from your grip to adjust his growing cock. It looked heavy, and you couldn’t stop staring. 

“Holy shit,” he sighed, “Charles is gonna kill me.”

“I won’t let him,” you smiled. 

“That mouth…” he was still turned on, and his voice was deepened by his arousal.

“Wait til you see what else it can do,” you grinned and popped open your door to greet Charlie. 

Your brother was in a black apron and carrying a set of tongs. He was at least six and a half feet tall and built like an ox. The back of his neck was red from the sun, and he wore his hair up in a poorly coiffed bun. You shut the truck door and he turned around. When he saw you, his face lit up, and he shouted your name across the yard. 

“Kia ora, sister. Look at you! How’s the Air B&B?”

Charlie held you close to his body, hugging you so tight that it hurt. You let it hurt. 

“Fine. I’m starving.”

“It’s coming. Where’s Alex?”

“Grabbing the bags, I think.”

You turned back around and watched as Alex bent into the truck bed and pulled your bag out along with his. He’d let his sunglasses fall around his neck and walked over to you and Charlie. 

“Charles,” Alex smiled, dropping a bag to shake your brother’s hand. 

“Alex, thanks for picking her up. Greg and the boys are down at the dock.”

You spent the day jet skiing and swimming with Alex and all of your brother’s friends. The girlfriends and wives and husbands all introduced themselves, or reintroduced themselves if they had met you before, and Alex stuck by your side through it all. He could have easily abandoned you to go on the fishing trip that most of the other men were keen to take, or he could have hung around Charlie all day since it had been months since they’d seen each other, too. But, he didn’t. He seemed to know that you didn’t want to be alone, and he held you to him in as much as he dared. 

It would be a lie, though, if you two didn’t admit to sharing a stray touch or even a kiss every now and then. You kept finding excuses to be alone together.

Finally, it was nearly fireworks time, and Greg was setting up the array of them. The purple dusk was just settling on the horizon, and you and Alex had front-row seats. He had brought you another icy beer from the cooler, and a towel from inside the house to sit on. You’d positioned yourselves right next to the small pool house, a little away from the crowd. 

The pool house was little more than a small bedroom and a toilet, but it was big enough to block anyone from seeing you two from behind. That way, if someone was looking at you, you’d know it. The excitement of hiding your affection from everyone was exhilarating. 

You had worn your bright pink triangle bikini, and Alex had spent most of the day staring at it. You’d even made him retie the bows a few times, just to torture him. Once, he’d even managed to swipe a finger over your nipple, so you knew that once everyone’s eyes were focused on the exploding sky, it was on. 

Other houses on the lake were popping their own fireworks, and there was a man who was famous for his end-of-the-night show. As Charlie lit more and more of the small ones, you noticed the other houses following suit. It was pretty, and every time a mortar cracked in the sky, you could feel it in your chest. 

Once it became dark enough, you started to rub your hand up and down Alex’s bare thigh. He scooted closer and closer to you like a dog begging for more pets. You obliged him, running your fingers higher and higher until you were disturbing the hem of his shorts. Then, you went for it.

He felt you move your hand to the warm flesh between his legs, and he whispered,

"No, no, wait...oh, fuck..."

You put your hand through the stretchy leg of the nylon trunks and searched for his heavy cock and balls. You ignored his dick at first, rubbing his balls gently, moving them around in your hand, massaging them and feeling his dick fighting for attention above your wrist. 

“Holy fucking shit, woman,” he hissed, fidgeting in his seat, his eyes turned skyward as he gasped as quietly as he could. 

“You enjoying the show?” You asked, acting very casual. 

“Enjoying…Jesus Christ,” Alex furrowed his brow at you and wiped a hand down his face. His eyes shone blue and then green and then red as the colors burst above you.  

Finally, you wrapped your fingers around his swollen rod, nearly three times as large as it had been soft, and started to pump up and down slowly and deliberately. He let out a trembling breath. 

“Baby, baby, baby, please…ah, please.”

“What do you need, Alex?” You whispered, kissing his neck, “Tell me. I wanna hear it.”

“I need your mouth, baby. Please, I’ll do anything,” he kissed you back, his mustache and beard tickling your skin, sending chills down your arms.

You looked over your shoulder at the pool house, and he followed your gaze. Then, you looked back down at the dock and saw Charlie and Greg untangling a huge fireworks display. You had time.

“C’mon,” you stood up quietly and opened up the door to the pool house. 

The two of you snuck in and shut it behind you, still able to see through the small skylight as the fireworks were going off outside. You didn’t wait for him to get settled. In fact, you grabbed Alex by the arm and pulled him into the small room, sinking to your knees on the well-worn rug. You looped your fingers in the waistband of his shorts, and pulled them down. His cock flagged free, bobbing up and down, and he was as hard as a stone. 

“Holy fuck! Wait, wait…oh, fuck!” He tried to catch his balance, and set his hands on your shoulders. 

You stared at his hard length, admiring the velvety smoothness of his skin, looking at his bare, pink head. You could see the scar from his circumcision, and you ran your tongue along the dark line of skin, licking him up and onto his plump, uncovered head. The sound he made from your first contact would be burned into your brain forever. It was a low, dark growl mixed with a sigh that seemed like he had just been relieved from carrying the whole world on his shoulders. Maybe he had. 

You took him into your mouth achingly slowly, looking up at him the entire time you did so, watching his face contort into different stages of blissful agony. He had one hand in his hair, pulling on it at the roots, his hat knocked back, looking like he was in shock. You swallowed him deeper, opening and closing your throat with swallow after swallow, making more and more drool pool in your mouth as you did until it was running out of your lips and down onto your chest. 

Then, you began to bob your head back and forth along as much of his length as you could take, choking yourself with it until it hurt just a little. You tried to relax. You wanted to show him that you could take it all, that you could be his relief. 

You focused on his head, running your tongue over its crest, tasting his salty precome as you lapped over his hole, rubbing the slick back and bumpy front of your tongue across it over and over and over. You used your hand to pump him up and down as you did, shaking him vigorously while he was sucked into your mouth.

Then, just as you were finding a steady, beating rhythm, he took your head in his hands and pulled you off of him. He was panting and ferocious when he whispered to you,

“Oh, my fucking God, baby. You don’t have to —”

“I want to,” you insisted, wrapping your hands behind your thighs and pulling his cock into your lips again. You kissed his head like it was his mouth, making out with his cock, covering him in your spit. 

You felt him take one of the strings of your bikini in his hands and tug. Your top fluttered down, exposing your breasts to the dark room. You moaned.

When you did, he stumbled forward, losing his balance,

“Shit. Baby, I can't...” he begged, catching himself on the side of the end table, his knuckles white and straining to hold up his weight. 

“I’ll let you sit,” you said cheekily, “If you hold my hair for me.”

“Oh, God,” he sank to the bed and laced his fingers through your hair, grabbing the back of your skull. 

You sucked him harder, moaning as you did so, playing with your nipples and feeling your drool run down your chin. 

Alex’s hand was only loosely connected, and you wanted more from him. You pulled away again and looked up at him with the biggest doe eyes you could muster,

“Alex,” you had his attention like a bright fire, “Fuck my face. Please.” 

A snarl came out of his mouth, and he had to put himself back together before he answered you. He used his big hands to pet your hair out of your face, running a thumb across your wet bottom lip with tender care,

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby. This feels so good. I don’t need you to -”

“I need you to. I wanna feel you in my throat.”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Only a little,” you smiled and licked the tip of him again, teasing him.

“If I hurt you, pinch me. Hard.”

You nodded, taking him as deep as you could. Then, when you reached your limit, you felt his hands get tight, shoving you down past your mouth and into your throat. He was still so gentle with you as he moved himself inside of you, fucking you ever so slowly, waiting for your pinch. So, you started to moan and lick and pull him closer with your hands, pushing yourself to the point of gagging. 

He yanked you off of him in a hurry, thinking you were injured. A long, frothy line of drool came out with him, and you spit the rest onto his shaft and returned him to your mouth. Now that you knew that you could go that deep with help, you tried to do it without, and you nearly succeeded. 

Alex was a complete mess above you, and his moans had become high, whining whimpers. With every swallow, with every lick, you earned a new noise. A gasp, a curse, a shaking cry. You played him like an instrument. Loudly.

Finally, you took him all the way in, past even where he had dared to push you, and you buried your nose in his crotch, smelling his hair and sweat and skin. 

“Oh, fucking shit! Fuck that’s deep. Oh, God. Oh, God! Baby!”

He was unraveled like a ball of string, spilling out everywhere. His body betrayed his politeness, and he thrust himself into you once, twice. You watched as the rockets and cannons and mortars all exploded around you in a fiery, rainbow crescendo, he came down your throat, crying for you, whimpering your name, gasping through gritted teeth. 

You counted to ten, trying not to gag, feeling his cock pulsing in your mouth, beating like a heart. Then, you started to get light-headed. So, you pulled back, releasing him in a slobbery, wet mess of come and spit. 

You leaned forward into his lap and began to lick him clean. He shuddered as you did so, shaking and moaning as your tongue touched all of his sensitive places. You saved his head for last. Licking up and down his shaft, cleaning his come from him, tasting his body’s sweet, sticky release. Until finally, you looked up at him with a sly smile. 

He looked down at you in dumb shock as you sucked all the fluid away from his swollen head, and he gasped as you finished the job. You released him with a pop from your lips and smiled, sitting back on your heels and playing with your tits. 

Alex lay on the bed for a while, and you joined him, rubbing his skin under his cutoff tee. He rolled onto his side and greedily suckled on your nipples, kissing your mouth and neck affectionately, fondling you a little more aggressively than you expected. Then, he looked up at the door and back down at you,

“Will you still want me after your brother breaks my nose?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes,

“Sure, I will.” 

“Then, wait here, baby. I’ll be right back.”

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Fourth of July With Tokio Hotel

Germany doesn't celebrate Fourth of July, obviously, but if you're from the states and do, you may have celebrated it before

Even if you weren't you guys were in America and heard of it

It was during the tour, they were in America and you're their bandmate or friend

So obviously they heard of it and you dragged them into celebrating it with you

Mainly for food and fireworks tho

Hands down Georg and Tom bought the big fireworks while you, Bill and Gustav were shopping for the smaller fountain ones or the sparklers

Tom and Georg wanted to go big so they got huge cases and everything

While you and Bill were shopping for candles, colorful sparklers and Gustav was going ham with dumping every fountain he could ever want

Bill found somewhere you light them and then they shoot out a little military guy with a parachute and you gotta catch them

Obviously you guys bought them all

Gustav found some where they spin and turn into a little house, and he also bought like 20

Georg was carrying like 3 giant cases of fireworks, sparklers and cannons all in one and Tom was riding an entire cart with 5 of the same cases

Safe to say, you guys left very happy

On the actual day of Fourth of July, Bill was the one cooking practically anything

Except if it was grilling, he left that as Gustavs job to grill the meat and hotdogs on the grill

Tom was the one to try and light a firework but was back up too soon to actually light it

Georg lit one and didn't warn you guys and laughed as you all jumped as sudden giant ass cannon went on and exploded

It was pretty don't worry but Tom jumped on you because Georg didn't warn any of y'all

Gustav was chasing you and Bill with multiple lit sparklers and cackling as you guys fucked and ran to get away from being set on fire

Gustav had the amazing idea to see who could light as many as possible without dying

Georg and Tom took him up on his offer and you and Bill, the ones who actually wanted to live, watched from the bed of a truck

A bush lit on fire and you and Bill laughed your asses off as you watched Georg and Tom struggle to put it out

It was Gustavs firelight that lit the bush on fire but he shrugged and walked away, and lit ANOTHER ONE

Tom and you were getting so competitive at catching those military guys that you had to catch

You guys were lighting one after another and running to catch it

You guys were pushing each other out of the way but were no match as Bill almost tackled you guys for one

Candles couldn't be held by any of you guys as Gustav was threatening to shoot on at Bills ass

He even tried to, almost succeeding in lighting it before you took it away

You still have no idea if he was actually bluffing but-

Georg was just there vibing, lighting giant cakes as well and standing back with beer like a proud uncle as he watched all the lights go out

You guys got into a little war with the neighbors on who had the best fireworks

It wasn't really a war but Bill saw they had a bigger and more colorful one than you guys and took that personally

You guys somehow acquired many neighborhood children in running around with sparklers and hotdogs

A lot of kids knew how famous you guys were but just liked y'all as people and wanted to hang out with you guys for the Holiday

But that didn't make them immune to you guys tackling each other for an army guy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @billsjum6ie @bigbootahjudy @dead-tapes @ilovebill-and-gustav @r3dheadedw0rld @kiwitsune @V4mpyboyy @novaaisstupid @billybabeskaulitz @yas-v @iischafer @dilfverz @ahswhore0 @graciegizmo3184 @sweetpuffy12 @elenacgn08 @80s-tingz @ryiana @yuriayato5 @juliarc28 @bunnysenpai31

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: December 22, 2024

Reworked Character #1: Marco Rossi

POTENTIAL TRIGGER: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to neglect, self-harm, alcoholism, SA, death, and torture.

Real name: Marchrius Dennis Rossi

Alias: Intelligent Soldier

Occupation: Major of the P.F. Squad

Retirement plans: Become a mechatronics engineer, foster a bunch of kittens, and start a company that designs and develops functional computer models, artificial intelligence, and cybersecurity programs for both military and civilian usage

Special skills: Proficiency in lightweight firearms and handling military technology, mechatronics engineering, computer science, intimidation tactics, and drunken-style boxing

Hobbies: Creating artificial intelligence and technological viruses from scratch, calculating complex mathematical equations and running times of computer programs in his head, taking naps at his desk, completing crossword puzzles, and stargazing

Likes: His quick mental calculation, those he considers to be friends, going on smoke breaks with Tarma, Eri, and Tequila, visiting cat cafes to play and snuggle with the kitties, and subway rides where there are little to no people around him

Dislikes: Unnecessary distractions, large lines in front of restaurants, being put in a vulnerable position, computer crashes paired with slow internet connectivity, and witnessing the torture and brutal executions of comrades

Favourite food: Chinese noodles (preferably its mildly spicy) and barbecued burgers and hotdogs with onions and honey-flavoured carrots

Sexuality: Sex-repulsed, aromantic asexual

Gender: Male

Age: 17 (in 2022), 23 (in 2028), 25 (in 2030), 27 (in 2032), 29 (in 2034), 36 (in 2041), 38 (in 2043), 39 (in 2044), and 42 (in 2047)

Blood type: A-

Weight: 162 lbs. (73.48 cm)

Design: He's a 5' 7" (170.18 cm) Italian-American ectomorph with an average musculature, broad shoulders, ivory skin, a cleft chin, and dull turquoise eyes. Marco sports wavy strawberry blonde hair, characterised by a large forelock that falls to the tip of his nose on the right side. On the left, two short, thick strands with subtle waves curve gracefully above his eyebrow. His features are further accentuated by well-groomed sideburns and a neatly trimmed chinstrap beard.

He bears occasional dark circles under his eyes and a distinctive glass left eye in a lighter turquoise hue. He has accumulated several battle scars: a few stab wounds on his right shoulder; vertical cuts on his chest; a deep slice mark extending from the left side of his nose bridge to the back of his trapezius muscle; multiple lacerations and severe burns on his back; a large patch of scar tissue on his right lumbar region; and bullet wounds on both calves and one on his left thigh. To cope with his emotional pain, he has a history of self-harm, which has resulted in the horizontal scars visible on his right forearm, hips, and inner thighs.

He's well-known for his cutting-edge, cybernetic left arm crafted from sleek, high-strength metallic alloys and advanced, artificially intelligent flexi-circuits, allowing for enhanced strength, agility, dexterity, and precision. It also has micro-sensors and neural interfaces seamlessly integrating with Marco’s nervous system for intuitive control. It possesses a high-strength, serrated blade made of tungsten, capable of extending up to 12 inches (30.48 cm) from the forearm. It can temporarily deploy an energy shield that surrounds him, providing protection from incoming attacks. This shield is powered by advanced capacitors and optimised for maximum efficiency using AI technology.

Marco's military gear consists of a white headband, a metal dog tag necklace with his name, and a platinum grey sleeveless shirt. He wears a crimson vest with four pockets and an embroidered logo of the P.F. Squad on the back, alongside khaki-green army cargo pants tucked into his olive green paratrooper boots. He also wears a leather belt with a snap-on silver buckle, mahogany gloves, a sheath for his combat knife, and a gun holster for his trusty handgun. The pockets of Marco's army cargo pants carry two boxes of cigars, while his vest contains a gilded lighter he found in Gerhardt City, a black case for his garnet-hued reading glasses, and an old photograph of pre-teen him, his father, and his childhood cat on a leash at a park during autumn.

Over his shirt, he wears a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries his walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. His right forearm is wrapped in worn gauze, and he wears two black bandoliers that form an X-shape, holding bullets for his handgun. Marco carries a khaki-green load-bearing backpack containing camping equipment, tactical explosives, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, a Gatling shot, and a thunder shot. He's always carrying around a red-orange laptop adorned with a bronze circle on the lid, housing a black six-pointed star at its centre. This custom laptop serves as his mobile command centre, where he develops malware to breach enemy cybersecurity, tackles various classified technological assignments for the military, and works on personal software projects.

He wears his father's circular, gilded watch on his right wrist, using it to check the time as a reminder of his father's enduring presence and an opportunity to seek guidance from the past. The timepiece features an ivory dial with burgundy hands and black Roman numerals from I to XII, interspersed with four thin etchings. Additional details include a secondary display bar showing the time and AM/PM indicator, while a leather strap is secured with a matching gold buckle.

Character summary: He's a charismatic and cautious leader who takes immense pride in his high intellect, computer expertise, and masculinity. He's a self-reliant introvert who prefers to accept help and emotional support from others when absolutely necessary. His stoic demeanour is a constant, making it challenging for him to show humour or vulnerability. Due to being a workaholic, he has developed a harmful habit of neglecting his own basic needs, including eating when necessary. He mainly struggles with loneliness because he finds it difficult to form meaningful connections due to his exceptionally high intellect, which can make it challenging for others who may not be able to keep up with his level of understanding. He also struggles with major depressive disorder, trust issues, a fear of abandonment, and unresolved trauma stemming from past experiences. While Marco tends to internalise his emotions, he has learned to open up to trusted individuals when his burdens become too overwhelming to bear alone.

Despite his gentle and taciturn nature, he's capable of being ruthless and will fly into a deep rage when General Morden's name is mentioned near him. When interrogating others, he employs a menacing tone, his aloof demeanour making those on the receiving end feel uneasy and intimidated. He doesn't hesitate to wield threats of violence or exploit vulnerabilities, and with Trevor by his side, his intimidation factor is amplified. He's a socially awkward loner who doesn't tolerate distractions and has a strong fear of losing his current friends.

When experiencing great distress in relation to past trauma, he's prone to having a full-blown mental breakdown and indulging in suicidal ideation. Marco tends to get stressed easily, which has led to him developing a chain-smoking habit. He privately grapples with self-harm and binge drinking, often consuming multiple beers at once, while concealing his struggles with alcoholism and suicidal thoughts from those around him. He attempts to conceal his struggles with alcoholism by either excessively partying or withdrawing socially, and privately harms himself due to his reluctance to burden others or cause unnecessary concern. Additionally, he struggles with denial, finding it difficult to accept the loss of his father and former war comrades, and resisting the idea that he needs professional mental health support.

He has a dry sense of humour that he rarely showcases, and when he does, his witty remarks often blend English and Italian. Having learned some Japanese from Tarma and Eri, he occasionally sprinkles Japanese phrases into his jokes. He deeply cares about his friends and will stop at nothing to protect them, even if it means putting his own life at risk. He finds great comfort in the presence of his best friend, Tarma, thanks to his breezy and optimistic attitude. Although he doesn't always show it, he genuinely enjoys Tarma's jokes and appreciates listening to them, even if they occasionally test his patience. He often mistakes Sophia Greenville for his mother due to their similar appearance, and he's always embarrassed when he accidentally calls her "mom”. Nevertheless, he's deeply grateful for the maternal affection she shows him, treating him like a son and unknowingly becoming the kind of mother he wishes he had.

He cherishes his flamboyant and extremely cuddly Domestic Shorthair, Perifa. Perifa boasts copper eyes and a blue-black, reddish-orange, and white calico coat, which he diligently brushes. She was a heartwarming birthday gift from Tarma, received prior to the Survival Island Occupation. He finds comfort in spending quality time with his cat, affectionately referred to as his "dramatic little princess”. He enjoys engaging in playtime, giving gentle pets, and even using soothing baby talk to calm his feline companion. He's easily offended by people who rudely insult cats, going as far as to comfort the insulted feline and silently glaring at the person who uttered such words.

He’s in a polyamorous queerplatonic relationship with Fio and Tarma, a bond that satisfies his deep-seated longing for emotional intimacy. He’s close friends with Trevor, regularly mentoring him in computer skills like reading binary code and enjoying social time together, but their occasional marijuana use has raised concerns due to Marco's pre-existing unhealthy smoking habits. He holds Tequila in high esteem, recognizing his pivotal contributions to the success of the Regular Army and S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. special forces unit. He deeply values his wisdom, open-mindedness, fatherly demeanour, and exceptional covert agent skills. He dislikes accompanying Nadia on shopping trips because her constant meddling and overly inquisitive nature frustrate him.

He once had a vision of creating an artificial intelligence, dubbed Alice, that could mimic human development, emotion, and personality. However, he abandoned the project due to concerns that it could become rogue if provoked incorrectly, and he felt uneasy about the notion of being a "father" to such a being. He views his computer programs solely as practical tools, designed to fulfill specific purposes, rather than as "children" with distinct identities. As a result, he developed a skeptical view of artificial intelligence being fully human. This stems from his understanding that the emotions and unique personalities exhibited by AI are the result of intense programming. In his opinion, genuine emotion and personality require the physical and mental growth that comes with human ageing and development, something AI systems lack.

Having never experienced raising children, he had always doubted his ability to provide love and be a good parental figure because he was consumed by his own interests and mental health issues. But everything changed when he adopted an abandoned baby girl and felt an obligation to provide parental care for the child. With the guidance and support of his friends, he discovered valuable parenting skills and named his new daughter Midori. He transformed into a loving, supportive, and overprotective father, dedicated to ensuring her happiness and safety. He made it a point to offer wise advice, hoping to spare her from his own past mistakes.

He found immense joy in watching Midori form close bonds with his friends, affectionately regarding them as uncles, aunts, and grandparents. Her friendship with Pocke, Walter's adoptive son and a Martian infant, brought him equal delight. He was particularly grateful for the ways his friends nurtured Midori's passions: Tarma and Alisa encouraged her interest in engineering, while Walter and Trevor fostered her love of music. He can't imagine a world without his adoptive daughter, who has brought him a new sense of purpose and motivated him to overcome his personal hardships.

Whenever he's had too much to drink, he starts to act rowdy, easy-going, overly affectionate, and clingy. When sexual activity is mentioned, he reacts with extreme discomfort as he finds it to be disgusting. He’ll either become nauseous or start gagging, displaying expressions of strong distaste towards the person discussing the topic. If he unexpectedly encounters someone engaging in sexual activity, he often experiences a panic attack, feeling lightheaded and overwhelmed. In such situations, he usually tries to seek comfort and support from a trusted individual to talk to and receive a reassuring hug. This experience may also trigger unpleasant thoughts related to sexual matters, leading him to fear that he's somehow perverted and disgusting. He'll only lose his temper with others if they say something extremely rude to him or his friends, intend to hurt his loved ones or tell him blatant lies. Although he tends to have a pessimistic outlook on life, he sometimes manages to see the brighter side of things. 

He has a sleepwalking habit, often accompanied by vivid dreams of fighting or killing someone, which greatly annoys and frightens Tarma, who’s frequently the target of these nocturnal episodes. He resents being hailed as a war hero due to his intense aversion to fame and his conviction that conflict should prompt sombre reflection, not glorification. He dislikes flirtatious advances and has low tolerance for complaining, bullying, and excessive talking, which can trigger irritability and extreme defensiveness. He feels uneasy with romantic inquiries and is secretly intimidated by Gimlet, whose relentless verbal aggression and frequent heated confrontations leave him on edge. He has a commanding presence that demands respect, and his consistently serious demeanour can make him seem intimidating and unapproachable to others.

He's incredibly introspective and prone to questioning the intentions of his friends and his own worthiness of having meaningful friendships. He defines his masculinity by embodying traits like physical strength, courage, independence, leadership, and assertiveness. However, he makes a conscious effort to avoid toxic masculinity by ensuring his behaviour doesn't harm others' feelings or self-worth. Despite this balanced approach, he admits to having some vanity regarding specific issues he considers unbefitting of his ideal masculinity, such as sagging pants and carrying toys, as he sees these as detrimental to personal dignity. Whenever he encounters a pair of glowing red eyes, he's either deeply unsettled or irresistibly drawn to them, captivated by their aura of curiosity and command. This hesitant fascination occasionally leads him to wander aimlessly until it directs him to a destination of its choosing.

He’s a consequentialist who believes people's actions are judged by their consequences. He thinks it's more logical for individuals to prioritise not causing harm to others and maximising the welfare of both themselves and others over personal gain. In his view, everyone should act in ways that benefit themselves and others, taking into account fully informed and rational preferences. He believes that all conflicts are gradually moving towards equitable unification and collective strength for humanity, paving the way for a new era free from violence, hate, and political corruption. From his perspective, all life forms have the capacity for destruction, and if their creative drive is surpassed, it can lead to severe consequences, ultimately undermining the act of creation.

Backstory: Marchrius Dennis Rossi was born on April 13, 2005 in Twin Falls, Idaho, United States. Marco's mother, Katalina, was a researcher for a secret government project, and his father, Salvatore Rossi, was stuck in a dead-end office job. His parents had a distant relationship and had Marco, hoping that a child would bring them closer together and fix their broken marriage, but they often ignored each other and argued. Katalina had never wanted Marco, viewing him as an unplanned consequence and a responsibility that hindered her career. His father provided unwavering support and care, while his mother was neglectful and emotionally absent, hiding her true behaviour behind closed doors. But despite this, Marco shocked his parents by exhibiting a fast-growing intelligence at a very young age.

From the moment he opened his eyes, he muttered his first word, "daddy". He learned how to walk at 3 months old and showed advanced motor skills by 5 and a half months. He skipped object permanence altogether and completed his first crossword puzzle at just 1 year old, astonishingly understanding political terms. By the age of 2, he had memorised all 50 U.S. states and read two books in their entirety, demonstrating a profound understanding of their documented subjects: moral philosophy and psychoanalysis. By 4, he was answering calculus-level questions and describing his feelings about endangered animals in zoos with sophisticated vocabulary.

From the age of 2, he would occasionally see a pair of glowing red eyes in darkened corners or places drenched in darkness. He described them as always watching him and swore that they belonged to a living, breathing creature that seamlessly blended into the darkness. When he turned 5, he created an imaginary friend as an excuse to enjoy his alone time and avoid befriending the children who frequented the local park. This imaginary friend was named "Jubby", and Marco often drew him, depicting him as an anthropomorphic snow leopard with golden eagle wings, Komodo dragon legs, and a face covered in a ball of black scribbles.

Before he turned 6, his neglectful mother, Katalina, grew fed up with how "weird" he was. She was also annoyed by his persistent fear of a glowing pair of red eyes that watched him occasionally and his uninterested attitude towards forming connections. While Salvatore was away from home, Katalina took matters into her own hands and packed her belongings. Before leaving, she noticed Marco standing before the basement door, which was wide open. She investigated and saw the same glowing pair of red eyes, which terrified her.

Believing that Marco was attracting an evil spirit, she pushed him down the basement stairs and locked the door, hoping to contain the perceived threat. Abandoning Marco, she left the house, leaving him absolutely terrified. Marco attempted to cope with the trauma by conjuring up Jubby, but he claimed that his imaginary friend never came to his aid. This painful realisation marked the day he began to harbour resentment towards his mother, feeling unappreciated, unloved, and viewed as a burdensome presence in her life. When Salvatore returned home and discovered that Marco was trapped in the basement by Katalina, he was infuriated. His father attempted to track down Katalina, but it was too late. This traumatic event instilled in him a lasting fear of heading down into dark basements alone.

During his time in grade 1, Marco struggled to make friends and often looked sad when he saw other children with their mothers, a concern his father noticed. To cheer him up, his father brought home a Turkish Angora with a black, orange, and white fur coat, which sparked Marco's love for felines. As a result of his childhood cat's fondness for eating bugs, he affectionately named her Grubley. At the age of five, his father introduced him to the world of computing, igniting a passion for computer science that would last a lifetime. Salvatore was always supportive of Marco and his passions, encouraging him to excel in school, chase his dreams, and make the most of the opportunities life has to offer.

Marco knew he had an uncle, but his father forbade him from seeing him. Salvatore had warned him that his uncle was untrustworthy due to his con artist lifestyle and struggled with alcoholism. However, he was permitted to visit his aunt and grandparents, who were incredibly kind. They encouraged him to appreciate nature and the simple things in life, rather than spending all his time on the computer. He has fond memories of his grandfather teaching him how to barbecue. His grandmother, an immigrant from Italy, taught him some Italian and often shared photographs she had taken in her home country before moving to the United States.

His father unknowingly sparked his interest in the Tuatha Dé Danann, an ancient race of demigods that existed before all life, and two antediluvian places, Atlantis and Ultima Thule. He would silently observe his father spend a short amount of time researching these fascinating topics when not working. Marco would eventually discover that he has a slight hint of Tuatha Dé Danann DNA, leading him to wonder if others might also have ancestral ties tracing back to the Hadean Eon.

He was bullied by many students for being perceived as "friendless" and for having an abnormally high intelligence, leaving him feeling isolated. A few students attempted to befriend him, but he rebuffed their efforts, fearing they would eventually abandon him. He also struggled to connect with them on an intellectual level, feeling like an outsider. During high school, he was involved in a few physical altercations, but he typically managed to defuse the situations with his words or, if necessary, defend himself relentlessly. In his spare time, he mastered the unconventional art of drunken-style boxing, giving him an edge in self-defence. Despite his school troubles, he excelled in all his classes and achieved outstanding grades in mathematics and computer science courses.

Before graduating from a state technical high school, Salvatore died due to health complications caused by Huntington's disease. Shortly after, Marco's beloved cat, Grubley, peacefully passed away in her sleep. Marco was devastated by these losses, compounded by the shocking revelation that his father had been secretly battling Huntington's disease without ever sharing his struggle with him. The last gift his father gave him was a red-orange laptop, which was intended to be a graduation present. Rather than letting the tragedy consume him, he transformed his grief into a driving force, cultivating resilience and independence. To move forward, he made the difficult decision to distance himself from his remaining family, seeking to leave the past behind and forge a new path.

He began developing artificial intelligence to engage in online debates and sophisticated computer software, including anti-viruses and error-checking tools, as a means to earn a living and hone his programming skills. He went so far as to meticulously rebuild and upgrade the desktop computer in his father's old office at home, enhancing both its design and performance. Marco decided to attend officer's school at the Academy of Special Technologies and subsequently joined the prestigious Peregrine Falcons Squad shortly after graduation.

Once he joined, he was trained under Colonel Hart of the Peregrine Falcons Squad, a well-respected technique instructor in the Regular Army, and Chun Yutetsu, a combat school instructor. Marco feels immense regret for destroying the Iron Nokana because Chun Yutetsu was inside, suffering a horrific death of being burned and crushed alive. To make matters worse, Colonel Hart revealed to him that Chun Yutetsu had joined the Rebel Army after General Morden held his daughter hostage and threatened to kill her unless he piloted the Iron Nokana and provided them with crucial data on the SV-001. Marco describes Colonel Hart as a golf enthusiast and a good friend of President Marx who will never forgive General Morden as a human being and only wishes to take his last breath.

Unlike many of his peers, he quickly distinguished himself through his exceptional leadership skills and computer expertise, earning him a spot as 1st Lieutenant of the P.F. Squad. This was also when he met Tarma, forming a fast friendship after discussing their interests, reminiscing on their childhoods, and having a couple of beers. Tarma was his first real friend, whom he holds dear, despite viewing him as a “maniacal gearhead”. Through his friendship with Tarma, he discovered the value of having friends and stepped out of his comfort zone to befriend the other members of the P.F. Squad and Regular Army. He would also gradually develop a queerplatonic relationship with Tarma as he deeply cherished their friendship and came to realise that it filled a void of emotional intimacy left by his father's passing.

When the Amadeus Syndicate served as the scientific and medical branch of the Regular Army, Marco met Doctor Amadeus, the organisation's founder and Nadia's clone mother. They had a cordial relationship, and Doctor Amadeus was particularly impressed by Marco's exceptional computer skills. She wanted to utilise his talents for a bioengineering experiment, aiming to create super soldiers using abandoned Martian and Invader technology.

During a battle against a terrorist attack, Marco suffered severe injuries and was taken to one of the original Amadeus Syndicate's medical facilities to recover. Doctor Amadeus seized this opportunity to force herself upon him to collect semen and DNA samples, leaving him deeply traumatised. The experience was so distressing that Marco tried to suppress the memory, inadvertently forgetting much of the history and purpose of the Amadeus Syndicate in the process. He also swore his revenge to kill Doctor Amadeus one day for what she did to him. As a result of this event, he began to act strangely anxious and slightly aggressive when in a hospital or near Nadia for prolonged periods of time.

During the first coup led by General Morden, he scraped together the remnants of the Regular Army government forces to reassemble the P.F. Squad and S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. He became the leader of the governmental resistance against General Morden but at a great cost. As he, his comrades, and his friends were approaching the last known base of the Rebel Army, disaster struck. General Morden and his soldiers ambushed them, seizing the opportunity to decimate the remnants of the P.F. Squad and S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S, leaving Marco with mental and physical scars that would haunt him forever.

Marco endured unimaginable suffering at the hands of General Morden, Allen O'Neil, and the Rebel soldiers, who brutally tortured him, gouged out his left eye, and severed his left arm. After experiencing a strange tingling sensation of familiarity, General Morden realised that Marco possessed Tuatha Dé Danann heritage. Intrigued, he discreetly collected DNA samples from Marco, which would later be utilised by the Amadeus Syndicate for experimentation in bioengineering and advanced military technology. The cruelty continued as Morden forced Marco to witness the slaughter and torture of his comrades and friends. Devastated by the losses and horrors he experienced, Marco teetered on the brink of giving up. He was even convinced that his best friend, Tarma, had perished, plunging him into a deep depression. 

However, Tarma managed to escape the Rebel Army's clutches and staged a daring rescue, reuniting with Marco. With Tarma's emotional support and his own newfound rage, Marco found the strength to keep fighting. Before confronting General Morden, Tarma constructed his prosthetic left arm using technological debris and cutting-edge medical technology available to the Regular Army. However, it took him a couple of weeks to adapt to his new limb. Together, they became legendary heroes, ultimately defeating Morden and restoring world peace. Marco's bravery earned him the rank of Major, but he soon grew to resent his war hero status as he realised that the media often glorifies conflict.

Shortly after the Great Morden War, Marco created a computer virus for fun, which inadvertently spread to the Regular Army's mainframe server. The virus destroyed several security systems, compromised the lowest echelons of the Regular Army, and nearly triggered the launch of a nuclear missile. Fortunately, a military scout named Trevor, whom Marco would meet years later during his recruitment into the P.F. Squad, managed to stop it. Marco refuses to discuss this potentially disastrous incident, even after a few too many beers.

Marco continued to lead the P.F. Squad together with Tarma, who is the true linchpin of the elite task force of the Regular Army. Marco joined forces with Tarma, Fio, and Eri for a second mission to thwart General Morden's second coup. Although the mission technically failed, as they captured a Martian troop from the Pipovulaj Army disguised as General Morden, the Regular Army's higher-ups deemed it a success nonetheless. This moment got on Marco's nerves as he deeply desired to see General Morden brought to justice and face the full consequences of his actions.

Following this success, Marco attempted to resign, but his higher-ups quickly denied his request. They insisted on his participation in a mission to eliminate the remaining remnants of the Rebel Army and other operations addressing threats to global peace such as the Pipovulaj Army.

[ahsokaanakinrexorobi-wan]

THE SECRET CHAPTER 2. *fives walks in on something that ahsoka and rex wishes that he didn't*. *it was like any normal day in the 501st barracks which means it was chaos..appo was smoking kix was drinking echo was reading a holo book Jesse Was sparring with hardcase anakin is arguing with wullf yularen about a battle tactic and ahsoka and rex are just watching the chaos*

Ahsoka: so why is kix drinking. Rex: no Idea. Ahsoka: good to know.....Anakin: I know the tactic would work. Wullf: I don't know if that is true. Ahsoka: would you two shut up. Rex: I agree with ahs.. i mean commander tano. Anakin: I'm not even going to ask. Wullf: probably a good thing. Anakin: I sometimes wish that spice isn't illegal. Rex: *chuckles* me too sir me too. Ahsoka: hey I'm not that bad. Rex: you asked me with a straight face if you put ice on a hotdog does it become a chillydog. Ahsoka: I need answers. Rex: no you probably need a brain cell but you're lack of brain cells make you adorable. Ahsoka: *blushes* I'm not adorable. Rex: you are. Anakin: would you two stop flirting. Ahsoka: we are not flirting. Wullf: I wish I had tihaar right now. Rex: you can actually drink that admiral? Wullf: yes I can. Ahsoka: tihaar is smooth and rough at the same time just like rex. Anakin: I'm going to ignore that comment. Wullf: yes probably a good idea although sir you probably should go deal with the troopers. Anakin: probably a good idea. Wullf: good luck sir. Anakin: I'll need it. Wullf: I know. Anakin: (walks over to appo) anakin: appo. Appo: *puts his deathstick out on the top if his helmet that is clipped to his kama* what sir. Anakin: how many times do I have to tell you no smoking while in the barracks beds room. Appo: this corner technically counts as part of the brake room. Anakin: okay then. *Anakin walks over to kix* anakin: kix. Kix: *slurring* yes sir. Anakin: kix you are supposed to be a medic not a medic that is three sheets to the wind. Kix: *slurring* sir this is the army not the navy. Anakin: I will use navy sayings if I want to. Kix: *passes out drunk*. Anakin: why do I even try. Hardcase: I don't know. Anakin: at least your not sparring with Jesse anymore. Hardcase: yeah anyway i forgot the powder I put on my balls to keep them from sticking to my blacks which means by afternoon my balls are going to feel like deep fried mon calamari drumsticks. Anakin: well that's something. Hardcase: yeah. Anakin: wait when did ahsoka and rex leave. Hardcase: no idea. Anakin: fives. Fives: yes sir. Anakin: go find ahsoka and rex. Fives: yes sir. *Fives walks put of the bunk room to go find ahsoka and rex* Fives: *walking around* where the kriff is commander tano and captain rex oh I know probably the old abandoned Briefing room. *fives walks into the abandoned briefing room* (to be continued)

[the-chaotic-n3rd]

I love how the villains in Dog Man are:

a corrupt mayor

an evil scientist

a robot

living hot dogs and their henchman the giant living taco

a cat with daddy issues and a dead mom

a fish on drugs

a LITERAL PAPER CUTOUT

oh the fish is back, and now he's a cyborg and he has an army of BUILDINGS

There's robot versions of the hotdogs and their giant taco and they're more buff which doesn't help the hotdogs at all since they ran away after an Australian reporter beat up their leader

The childhood "friends" of the cat show up with their robot dinosaur

a terrible judge

a jerk warden

The evil scientist is back with more balls

a schizophrenic child groomer

a bunch of baby frogs on drugs

The cat's dad is here

AI

[aniwahstan]

Marauders + Jegulus: Pride Fest 1999

Art by the lovely @juksuart

Regulus wanders back into James’ room just as he’s come from the shower, towel wrapped around himself. Glistening from head to toe. Regulus takes his turn to wash-up, and by the time he gets back to the room, James is already sporting a neon outfit of golds and reds.

Regulus sighs - already knowing he won’t have anything appropriate to wear today.

“I don’t have any flashy clothes for today.”

James freezes and looks at Regulus from the other side of the bed. “Who said you have to look flashy? Wear whatever makes you feel best. That’s the whole point.”

Regulus lets James help with putting together an outfit. High-waisted corduroys, and a white shirt tucked in. Converse and a brown belt. ‘A classic look’, James called it as he kissed him on the cheek with his hands looped into Regulus’ belt.

The train toward San Francisco is packed with people in rainbow and glitter and neon. There are drag queens to the left, sweet young high schoolers who look nervous in their rainbow shirts to the right. There’s an old woman by the door who looks like she’s about to open the train doors and throw herself out to get away from the gay army surrounding her.

James calls over a young girl who’s offering face paint and whispers into her ear. She smiles and hovers over Regulus, paintbrush in hand.

Regulus almost protests, but who is he to deny James or this young girl the pleasure of giving him a new look? So he tilts his head up and lets her get to work. Sirius lets the girl's friend braid his dark waves into two braids, sticking tiny flowers into each weave as she goes. When Regulus’ face is done, James hands both girls a few dollars while Regulus stares at the train window trying to catch his reflection. Green and yellow and black glittered stars mark both of his cheeks. Not too flashy, but something to show he’s celebrating. He loves it.

A brief flash of his mother’s face passes through his thoughts. What she would say if she could see her sons, covered in flowers and glitter. Soft and sparkly and so very much alive. He leans his back head against the seat and closes his eyes at the thought. That in their battle for the life the Black sons will live, Walburga has lost. Regulus doesn’t normally think of his life as a game, but as he sits on this train surrounded by the revelry, he feels like he’s won something.

They take the stairs out of the station and appear on a street that looks like a rainbow has thrown-up all over it. There are streamers floating in the sky. Balloon arches. Floats moving by over a sea of bodies cheering. A huge, hairy man in nothing more than biker shorts passes by them with a small man on his shoulders. A waterfall of glitter cascades over them as the man from above tosses handfuls of gold and pink from his palm. “Happy Pride!”

They all wave and return the sentiment as he’s carried away by his man-carriage. James puts an arm around Regulus as they start to move through the crowds. It’s the first time they’ve touched like this. Publicly. In front of everyone. Sirius shoots James a bullying look briefly before softening and pecking James on the cheek. “I’m heartbroken you’ve left me for the shorter version of me. Just so you know.”

James chuckles as his arm tightens around Regulus. “Your boyfriend is literally standing right there.”

Remus looks over at the two of them. “You can have him anytime, James. He’s a menace.”

Sirius takes a sharp inhale in at the comment, faking shock and awe. “Come on, we have like twenty blocks to where Marlene told us to meet her.”

It’s difficult for Regulus not to stop every few minutes and stare at one thing or another. He silently blesses Peter when he forces them all to stop so they can each get a hot dog from a stand whose owner is wearing a speedo that has a hotdog print all over it. Madness. Beautiful, strange madness.

Peter hands one to Regulus, then to everyone else in a line. “You all have to promise this will not be your last meal of the day. I’m looking at you, Sirius.”

Sirius is mid-swig of a water bottle filled to the brim with tequila. He puts the bottle down and takes a big bite. “Happy?”

James pulls Regulus through the crowd, past drag queens dancing to Cher, and hordes of couples making out in the middle of the street. Regulus stops to stare at a young couple dancing forehead to forehead as more floats pass behind them in the parade. They don’t even seem to notice. They’re lost in each other. Regulus’ chest feels like it’s going to burst out of nowhere. His cheeks feel tight, and he doesn’t quite understand why, but he feels tears threatening to fall.

James approaches behind him, lacing his arms around his waist and burying his nose into Regulus’ neck. “Is it too much?”

There it is. An actual fucking tear falling from his eye. He turns to look at James, shaking his head, embarrassed at his emotional reaction to the scene around them. “It’s not too much. It’s incredible.”

James grins down at him and kisses him. In public. Like it’s a normal thing to do. He had no idea. That kissing a boy could ever feel like that. Normal. Just a faceless couple in the crowd

“Drink?”

Regulus takes the water bottle from James’ hand and takes a sip of the burning alcohol. He coughs a bit before going for a second one.

On their way to search for Marlene, they pass sponsored business floats and dykes on bikes. AIDS activists and anti-animal testing banners. Purple lowriders carrying men in their sixties. Dogs with rainbow collars. Men with rainbow collars. Everything.

They finally find Marlene in the waves of moving crowds. She’s wrapped under the arm of a tall Black woman with an afro, who’s wearing an entire bodysuit of white fishnet that contrasts perfectly against her skin. Go Marlene.

“Mary,” she says as she shakes each of their hands individually. “Are you all ready?”

They all eye each other, not a clue what she’s talking about.

Remus steps up for all of them. “Ready for what?”

Marlene snickers behind Mary and turns her gaze toward a small set of stairs leading up to a float that looks halfway between a disco club and punk club. Bright pinks and skulls, painted black exes next to golden unicorns. There’s a huge banner at the back that reads 'Amoeba Music'.

Marlene puts a hand on Peter and Sirius’ shoulders. “We used the money from open mic night to pay for the parade slot.”

James’ mouth falls open next to Regulus. “No fucking way.”

Sirius is the first to sprint up the stairs, herding them all from the top of the float once he gets to the rail.

They all climb up as Mary and Marlene are passing around bottles of cold water and beer from a cooler. They all drink at least half a bottle of water at Peter’s demand before moving to the beer.

Marlene moves to the sound system and looks over at their little group. “I think this parade could use some real music. Agreed?”

She presses play as Sirius cheers and chugs the rest of the beer in his hand. Buddy Holly by Weezer starts blaring through the entire float. Half of the crowd erupts around them just as the float starts to move to join the procession of the parade.

They all find a spot against the rail so they can witness the sea of people as far as the eye can see. Regulus can hardly believe a celebration of queer joy this big is even legal. He’s never felt so right. So safe, in a crowd of humans he’s never met. All here for the same reason - to find acceptance. To know that not only are they not alone, but they are surrounded by others like them. Fuck, it is brilliant.

The music shifts to No Doubt’s Don’t Speak, which drives everyone on the float and within earshot of the speakers into a frenzy. Arms are thrown in the air. Cheers erupt from all sides. No Doubt is perhaps one of the only pop bands that Regulus agrees deserves the hype. James pulls him in as Gwen’s voice starts over the speakers. He puts his hands where they belong. One on each side of Regulus’ neck.

He pulls Regulus in and kisses him shamelessly, with thousands of people below them still cheering and hollering. Regulus knows it’s for the parade. For the song. But it doesn’t matter. As they stand there, tongue tied on top of the world, he lets the cheers be for him. For James. For how they found each other in the shuffle of a world that aims to beat them down and pretend they’ll go away some day. But nothing has ever felt so solid to Regulus as James’ hands on him. Displaying what they have to every person who matters in the entire Bay Area.

The music suddenly gets extremely loud, distracting both of them from their heated embrace. Show Me Love by Robyn begins just as they both turn to see Marlene and Peter cheering and clapping, witnessing their public display. Marlene winks at them while James shakes his head at the cheesy pop song she’s chosen as the soundtrack for their pillar of unashamed affection.

Regulus doesn’t care what’s playing. He grabs James’ hands and brings them back to his neck.

Let them watch. He’s proud of what holds him.

Excerpt from fic: Meet On Telegraph Avenue