#I don't care that it's Nevada

[stumpgirl]

The loudest idc growl I heard live. I didn't realize one thing until this festival. I mean I knew but it didn't hit me hard until I saw other singers (well mostly one). Patrick gives 1,000% for the fans. I've seen him sick as a dog for several shows. And he always belts that shit out consistently. He NEVER sings down. EVER. I just wish other singers gave it their all. No, I'm not naming names. Just very disappointed. Patrick sets the standard so fucking high and that's why I'll always love him the most. He truly cares deeply about doing the best for his fans. And it doesn't go unappreciated. Rant over.

[thingsifoundongeoguessr]

When your partner doesn't know where they want to go for dinner we have just the place for y'all

[pinkrangerv]

You know, every year we lose at least one dumb tourist in Nevada. Why?

'That big cave looks really interesting! I wanna go see!' That's a mine shaft. You were WARNED about mine shafts. THEY HAVE LARGE PITS YOU FALL INTO AND DIE.

'Oh hey that body of water looks like a great place to swim!' It's contaminated with mercury and twelve other heavy metals. There's signs everywhere. How did you miss this?

'I only need a small water bottle for a five-hour hike!' Buddy. Pal. I can pull that off, because I am chronically dehydrated and somehow survive it. (It's the fat, I think.) But trust me, normal people cannot do that, and even I drink water when I stop for lunch. You are normal. You will die slow.

'Hey, Pyramid Lake looks cool!' The local tribe has an entire set of stories about how if you hear babies laughing, the next day you will die on the lake. And at least one boat gets pulled under a year. The park has warning signs about that plastered all over it. Yeah, sure, riptide--but honestly, that lake even looks like it's gonna kill you, it has no greenery at all around it, it's just water and then desert, how are you this stupid?

'Aww, that bear looks so CUDDLY!' You know what, you're clearly unsaveable. Give me your kid, I'll find them a home with a loving adult who explains that forks don't go in light sockets. We'll hold your funeral. Your kids' new adult can explain that some people are just meant as a warning to others. They'll grow up to appreciate your sacrifice. We all will. You will serve as an example to future tourists to just, for the love of fuck, stay in the damn cities. At least there someone will stop you from ANNOYING A GODDAMN BEAR.

Really. If you come to Nevada, just...stay where there's sidewalks. You'll end up less dead.

[cowardlycowboys]

I mean yes please to the kiss but i meant like, as in, "utah? more like eww-tah"

LMAO yeah utah is pretty ew minus like the natural beauty

[wraithlafitte]

bitchin'

pairing: dean winchester x reader

CONTENT: violence (hunting), SMUT, only one bed~ enemies to lovers (kinda), unprotected p in v (encase before you embrace), hate sex, Dean calls reader "princess" mockingly, manhandling, slapping, spanking, big dick!Dean has all the audacity, dirty talk, degradation, choking, cum eating, brat taming, edging, overstimulation, squirting

word count: 4.7k

To say you were unhappy to be working with Dean Winchester would be putting it lightly. A massive understatement, in fact. But, as luck would have it, you needed backup on a vamp case; and when you called Bobby Singer for help, it turned out that Dean was the only hunter nearby.

Your jaw set uncomfortably as you dialed his number and held the phone to your ear. Asking for help from anyone was hard, but from this man? Practically your mortal enemy? A feeling of shame, or maybe embarrassment, crept into your stomach as you listened to the phone ring.

He's probably just watching it ring, you thought cynically. Who's to say he would pick up at all? Maybe he won't, you hoped.

There was a laundry list of reasons why Dean was the last person you'd want to work with on a case. He was reckless, had no respect for plans, and tended to go in guns blazing without regard for his own life, which meant that you would constantly be saving his ass. And boy, was he a pain in yours.

The cherry on top of the Dean Winchester disaster cake was that he hated your guts. You never really figured out why, but you assumed it was his misogynistic tendency to be completely contrary to any woman he met who didn't fall all over him. God forbid a woman doesn't care about his rugged good looks or roguish bravery!

When he finally picked up, you could practically hear the smirk in his voice, dripping with self-righteousness. "Well, well. What do you want?"

You decided it would be best to cut to the chase and just get it over with. "I'm working a case in Nevada," you said calmly. He would not get you riled up. "Vegas. There's a vamp nest, been snatching homeless people. Tunnel dwellers," you added. "Not that it matters. People are people, vamps are vamps."

"What are you tellin' me for?" Dean asked gruffly. He was gonna make you say it. Of fucking course he was, because he just had to hold it over your head.

"Need backup," you said curtly. "There's at least five of them."

"So what you're sayin' is...." The smugness in his voice was unmistakeable.

"I need your help, you dick."

"Oh do you now."

You huffed, already fed up with him. "Bobby says you're the only hunter he knows nearby. Said you're in Flagstaff."

"Maybe I am," he said vaguely. "Bobby should know not to tell you anything about where I am or recommend me as reinforcements for you."

"He didn't want to, but I made him. Are you coming or not?" you said sharply.

I'll be there by nightfall. Don't wait up," he said teasingly and hung up, leaving you to listen to the tone, steaming.

Why does he have to make everything so difficult?

Rough pounding on the door of your motel room startled you up from your chair at midnight. Dean wasn't even in the room yet, and he was already tormenting you. You went to the door and jerked it open, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could feel the headache coming on.

"Honey, I'm home," Dean said wickedly. He pushed past you into the room, dropping his duffel bags in the middle of the floor. He dropped into the chair you had just vacated and looked up at you with a shit-eating grin.

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be," you warned him, eyes narrowing.

"Hey, I'm just excited to kill some vamps," he said, jabbing a finger towards you.

"Give it up. We both know you would rather be anywhere else."

"True," he conceded. "But let me just bask in the moment real quick."

You roll your eyes and return to your task, packing up your stuff. "Don't get too comfortable. We can't stay here. I was followed earlier."

"Perfect," Dean said sarcastically. "Of course you were."

You turn on him. "It can happen to anyone."

"Sure," he mocked. "So what's the plan, genius?"

Your face hardened. "We take the fight to them."

"Say no more."

The vampire's nest was in an abandoned warehouse (real original) that was a few streets away from one of the tunnels that the homeless had set up camp in. Chain link fence, corrugated metal, broken windows, the whole deal. And of course Dean wouldn't wait to make a game plan, sliding open a side door like nothing bad was waiting to jump him. In a vampire nest. At night.

All you could do was follow him, machete at the ready, and hope that the scuffing of his boots on the concrete floor wouldn't alert any vampires to your presence.

Dean ducked down, holding a fist in the air. You hurried behind him and crouched behind a shelf just in time to miss a patrolling vampire rounding the corner. Without missing a beat, Dean jumped out behind it and chopped it at the neck soundlessly. The body fell to the floor. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good.

You crept in the direction the fang had come from, Dean hot on your heels. He was so close you could hear his leather jacket creaking, smell his cologne, feel him practically breathing down your neck. You shot him a glare over your shoulder, then suddenly you hear voices. You stopped abruptly in your tracks, causing Dean to bump into you. You elbowed him and gave him a look.

Peeking around the doorframe, you saw what appeared to be the vamps' main hangout room. And there were a lot more than five of them, lounging around the walls, circling victims that were hung by their wrists from a beam.

"We can take them," Dean whispered in your ear.

You looked at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?" you hissed back. You tried to count the dark shapes in the next room. "There's at least ten in there. There's only two of us."

"We can do it." Without waiting for a reply, Dean busted down the door and started swinging. You had no choice but to follow as the vampires started coming out of their startled stupor and attacking.

Dean cut down two of them easily, their heads rolling on the floor before they knew what hit them. The rest, however, had time to react.

One of the vampires rushed you, just managing to avoid your blade as you swung it. She snarled and leapt towards you. You slashed her across the chest and she howled, clutching her shirt. You took the opportunity and decapitated her.

Someone grabbed you from behind, claw-like nails scratching your neck as it was forced to the side, baring your skin. You stabbed behind you, blade finding purchase, and used the distraction to cut off the fang's head.

Another vamp rushed you from the front. You swung your blade out in defense, but he just grabbed it and ripped it from your hand. Then, as if they could smell your defenselessness, you were suddenly swarmed, vampires clawing at your skin, your clothes, pulling your hair. Several hard punches landed to your gut and your face and the wind was knocked out of you as you fell to the floor, smacking the side of your head into the concrete. You yelped in pain and shock.

A boot pressed into the side of your neck and your vision was suddenly obscured by a heavy-set vampire bearing down on you, grinning. "Not so tough now without your little sword," he sneered, fangs descending. His mouth was smeared with blood and you could smell the tang of iron on his breath. You struggled to breathe as the pressure on your neck increased, your vision getting spotty.

Great, this is how I die....

As if in the distance, you heard Dean shout. The looming face of the vamp was promptly detached from its body, hitting the floor by your head. His body fell on top of yours, his gross bloody neck stump right in your view. The boot left your neck and charged in the direction of Dean's voice.

You struggled to free yourself from beneath the former vamp, ears ringing from your near-suffocation. You could hear the ensuing scuffle, all grunts and wet slices and heavy footfalls, but you had no idea who was winning.

Then, it was silent.

You held your breath instinctively, listening to a lone pair of footsteps approaching you. You found yourself realizing for the first time that you hoped Dean was coming. Better than the alternative.

Sure enough, Dean's hunt-beaten face appeared above you, screwed up with effort as he pushed the large vamp's body off of you. You sat up quickly, surveying the carnage, slapping away the extended helping hand. The shock of your near death experience wore off quickly, but the adrenaline from the fight did not, so your energy turned towards Dean.

"What the fuck, Dean?" you yelled, rising to your feet, wincing from the pain in your sides.

"What do you mean what the fuck?" he returned angrily. "I just saved your goddamn life!"

"After you endangered it!" you shoved him, scowling furiously. "Ten to two are not good odds! We could have fucking died! I almost did!"

"Hazards of the job, sweetheart!"

"There's hazards, and then there's suicide," you replied, fuming.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't have to thank me."

"I won't." You shoved him out of your way and made for the door. "Don't you ever fucking do that again."

"Not so fast, princess," Dean called after you. "Hunt's not over."

You froze in your tracks. "What."

"I didn't get all of 'em." You whirled around to face Dean, who was looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

Your voice was dangerously quiet. "What do you mean you didn't get all of them?"

He made an attempt at a self-confident grin. "They saw me ganking their buddies like nobody's business, turned tail and ran. I was more concerned about saving your life than to chase."

You smirked tauntingly. "Oh, you cared about my life?"

Dean just shrugged. "Couldn't just leave you there."

"Whatever." You started walking to the entrance again. "Since you let some get away, I say we get a night's sleep. They'll probably be expecting us to come after them, so they won't hunt again tonight. We can pick up the trail in the morning."

"What do you mean you only have one room left?" Dean asked angrily, slamming his hands down on the motel counter.

The clerk looked at him blankly. "Just what I said."

You were at the cheapest motel you could find in the city that was built on tourism. You and Dean were both short on cash, so it seemed like the best option. It was this or take shelter with the junkies in the tunnels.

"I'm not spending the night in the same room as her!"

You hit his shoulder. "Hey!"

"Like you don't feel the same," Dean said exasperatedly, digging out his wallet. "Next cheapest is still too expensive. I'm basically broke," he whined, rifling through his meager collection of bills.

"What happened to all your credit cards, Mr. Fraud?" you sneered.

Dean glared at you. You glared back. After a few moments, the clerk cleared his throat.

"So, do you want the room or not?"

You dropped your bags just inside the door of the room. "You're fucking kidding me."

Dean pushed past you. "What- oh. Oh my goddd." He ran his hand down his face tiredly.

Staring you in the face was the decidedly lumpy surface of a double bed. One. That fucking clerk could've warned you.

You and Dean slowly looked at each other, then you made a mad dash to claim the bed, shoving each other out of the way, kicking, tackling, until you both lay tangled on the floor, still not in the bed. You had his arm pinned behind his back, but he was pinning you to the floor with his weight.

You jerked on his arm, panting, and he grunted painfully, digging his knee into your side.

"Say.. uncle," you gritted out.

"You first!" Dean rasped.

"No!"

You laid there for a few more seconds, then, almost as if it was painful, Dean asked, "Should we- call it a draw?"

You rolled your eyes and released him. He rolled off of you, getting to his feet. He didn't help you up, of course.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor," he said spitefully.

"Well, neither am I." Your eyes narrowed.

You laid on the bed stiffly, positioned all the way at the edge of the mattress, as far away from Dean as possible. He was doing the same, and the blanket was pulled taut between you as you wordlessly battled over it.

You were steaming. You should have known that everything would go to shit if you called on him. He completely ruined what should have been a one-hour job, endangering your life and letting a few vamps go. He did, technically, save your life though. You were grateful, but you wouldn't tell him that in a million years.

Adrenaline from the hunt and your constant fighting with Dean coursed through your veins, keeping every sense on high alert. Every tug of the sheets from Dean lit a fire under your skin. His weight behind you on the bed filled you with a painful awareness of how touch-starved you truly were. As much as you tried to suppress it, tension began building in your core.

You shifted uncomfortably, squeezing your thighs together. "Ugh," you let out before you could stop yourself.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled through the darkness.

The sound of his voice, rough with tiredness, intensified how extremely horny you felt. You felt your underwear getting damp in spite of your hate for the man.

"God dammit," you said frustratedly, sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

"What?" Dean said, throwing the covers back and sitting up too. "Why can't you just let me fucking sleep?"

"Nothing," you snapped, taking a swig from your water bottle. Hydrating would calm you down, surely.

"Yeah, right," he snapped back. "What the fuck is wrong?"

"I'm really fucking horny, Christ!" you blurt, whirling on him.

"If I fuck you, will you stop bitchin'?" Dean demanded, fire and a deadly seriousness in his eyes.

You opened and closed your mouth, stunned.

He just smirked at you. "Is that what it takes to shut you up?"

You stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"You want me so bad, huh." He moved across the bed and settled right behind you, his face in your neck, inches away from your own.

"Shut up," you say, flustered, still trying to keep some semblance of control. But you couldn't deny the arousal pooling in your gut.

"Say the word," Dean said smoothly, breath fanning over your exposed shoulder.

"Fuck," you whispered, cursing what you're about to do. You turned your head and smashed your lips to his.

Dean responded immediately, pulling you backwards and into his lap. He bit at your lips, forcing his tongue inside your mouth. You made an indignant sound, battling him for dominance, teeth clashing in a messy display of pure desire.

Your lips only parted to rip off each other's shirts. You dug your fingernails into Dean's bare shoulders as hard as you could, trying to elicit some kind of reaction from him, which came in the form of a deep groan into your mouth. He broke away, panting, and flung you onto your back on the mattress.

Leering down at you, he placed himself between your legs. "That's how you wanna play, huh princess?"

He yanked your leg up by the knee and slapped the back of your thigh. An involuntary moan escaped your mouth, and Dean chuckled darkly. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."

"Just shut up and fuck me," you whined, hitting his side with your foot.

"Ah-ah," he tutted. "Bad girls don't get what they want."

You sat up and came nose to nose with him. "If you think for one second that I am going to sit here and play submissive for you-"

Dean laced his fingers through the back of your hair and sharply tugged your head back. You moaned in response. A smile slowly grew over his face and he let go abruptly and shoved you back down. Your back barely hit the mattress before he was yanking off your sleep shorts and underwear in one go, tossing them to the far reaches of the room. You gasped as the cool air from the room hit your core, driving home the fact that you were now completely exposed to him.

"Aw, already so wet for me," Dean jeered, running a finger up your slit roughly. You flinched away from the sudden contact, heat spreading to your face.

"Don't flatter yourself," you gasped as he shoved a finger inside you, curling it vigorously, relishing the wet sounds your pussy produced.

Dean palmed himself through his pajama pants, groaning. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, he added a second finger inside you, scissoring you open. At least he has the decency to prepare me, you thought.

He yanked his fingers out of you, giving your pussy a quick slap, and you whined at the sudden empty feeling.

"Don't whine," Dean said roughly, getting off the bed and kicking off his pants and boxers. You looked down, unable to help yourself.

You saw where he got all his confidence from. He was big. You practically quivered with anticipation. You loved a good stretch, and you liked it rough, and this was about to be both.

"Like what you see?" Dean mocked, shaking his cock.

"Looks like maybe your confidence isn't completely unwarranted," you admitted dryly. You could feel your combative spirit giving way to lust, but you weren't giving up that easily.

He winked, grabbed your ankles and jerked you to the edge of the bed, your thighs around his waist, your hair fanned out on the blanket behind your head. Dean took hold of your calves and pressed your knees up by your face, leaning over you and pinning you down with his weight again. Only this time, it was way hotter.

"Gonna be good for me?" he asked, voice dripping with mock sweetness.

"In your fucking dreams," you spat.

In one fluid motion, he backed off of you, grabbed you by the waist, and spun you onto your stomach. You squeaked as a heavy hand landed on your ass, much harder than he hit before.

You used your feet, barely touching the floor, to push yourself back towards him, hoping he would get the point and just fuck you already without you having to ask him again.

"So fucking needy," he murmured in your ear. "Use your words, princess."

"Fuck you," you moaned, feeling his cock jerk against your leg.

"Mmm, that's not right," Dean warned, fingers digging into your hips.

You grit your teeth. "Fuck me."

Dean splayed his fingers over your ass cheeks, spreading you open for him, and thrust into you roughly, filling you in one go.

You gasped, feeling his cock throb inside you as your pussy complained against the intrusion and desperately tried to adjust to his size. He groaned as you clenched around him, pulling out slowly and slamming back in.

"Dean," you gasped out. "Don't be such a fucking tease."

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want, princess," Dean growled, his thrusts becoming faster. "You asked for this."

"Technically- you offered," you corrected, eyes screwing shut at the pleasure building inside you with each thrust.

"God, shut- up," Dean griped, punctuating his words with a deep thrust that hit just right, eliciting an embarrassingly loud moan from you.

He just grunted, hips colliding against you, now just chasing his own high. You pressed your face into the bed, clutching the blanket with both fists, fortifying yourself against Dean's relentless pace. His fingers pressed deeply into your hips, carving out a place for him, letting you know you wouldn't be coming away from this encounter unbruised.

"God, you're so fucking tight," Dean rasped, slapping your ass. You moaned in response, unable to think of a witty retort. "Bet it's been a long time since you were fucked, huh?"

When you didn't reply, he slapped your ass again, on the other side, sending fireworks through your core.

"Bet that's why you're so desperate for me," he groaned. "Haven't gotten laid in a while. Bet that's why you're such a bitch, too," he added snarkily.

"Oh, fuck off," you mumbled into the mattress.

Dean pulled out, much to your chagrin, turning you onto your back again. "If you want," he said, eyes glimmering with mischief.

You pouted and whined, hooking your feet around his waist and trying to pull him back. You were rewarded with a sharp slap to your pussy. You cried out from the stimulation.

"Don't whine," he growled, pushing into you again on the last word.

"Sorry," you whispered in spite of yourself, gripping onto his arms as he cages you in with his body.

"What was that?" Dean said, grinning wickedly and thrusting into you sharply.

"Fuck-" you moaned instead, refusing to cooperate.

He wraps his hand around your throat loosely, putting slight pressure just under your jaw. Your eyes widened as he slowly increased the pressure, jeering down at you, still slamming into you at an incredible pace. Your body started to become overwhelmed with all the sensory input and your core tightened.

You knew Dean felt it, because he grimaced. "Gonna come, you little slut?" he taunted, reaching down with his free hand to rub harshly at your clit. A low whine released from the back of your throat.

His grip tightened around your neck to see your reaction. You gasped, straining to get a full breath in, your pussy clenching hard around his cock.

"Such a fucking slut that you're gonna come from being choked out," Dean said through gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

"Fuck- Dean," you choked out, both hands wrapped around his wrist. He eased up on the pressure some (he didn't want to kill you) and your hands moved desperately up his arm, gripping him tightly.

Dean was getting close, you could tell, but the question remained: would he come before you? And if he did, would he still take care of you? Somehow you doubted it. The self-absorbed jackass was probably going to cum inside you and fall asleep, like almost every other man you'd slept with.

Suddenly Dean lurched forward, shoving his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, breathing heavily in your ear. You clenched in surprise (and also because a man getting desperate was one of the hottest things on the planet).

Dean groaned deeply in response and bit down on your shoulder, hard. You cried out, half from pain and half from the surprising pleasure it sent roaring through you, causing your cunt to squeeze down on him tightly. He practically whimpered, detaching from your skin and pulling out, pumping himself a few times before spilling onto your stomach with a moan.

He looked down at the mess he'd made of you, dragging his fingers through his cum. Then he brought those fingers up to your mouth and pressed them against your lips. "Open."

You scowled at him, once again determined to be contrary.

Dean glared back. "Open, or you don't get to come," he said harshly, forcing his fingers between your lips and teeth.

So he was planning to take care of you. Your neediness returned in full force, and you opened your mouth to allow him to shove his fingers deep into your mouth. You gagged as his fingertips hit the back of your throat, the taste of his cum filling your mouth. He pressed down on your tongue and you dutifully sucked on his fingers as he smirked down at the sight.

"Good little slut," Dean said nastily, obviously feeling proud of himself. He started to pull his fingers out and you closed your teeth, scraping his skin as he did. He slapped your cheek lazily once his hand was free. "Swallow it."

You glared, but did as you were told, sticking out your tongue to prove it.

Dean grinned. "Ready for your reward, princess?"

You moaned needily, throwing your head back and bucking your hips up towards him.

"Such a fucking whore," he chastised, bringing his hand to your clit and stroking around it lazily. A pang of arousal shot through you as you quickly approached the edge again. All thoughts of defiance went out the window as you grinded against his hand.

"Please," you whimpered, squirming under his touch.

"Since you asked so nicely," Dean mocked. He stuffed your pussy with three fingers at once, thrusting and curling them inside you. "Fuckin' dripping, princess."

He brought his other hand to your clit, thumbing it in figure eights in time with his fingers. You gasped as your core tightened. His fingers were bringing you so close to the brink and just keeping you there, never increasing the pressure just enough to push you over.

"Fuuuck," you moaned, panting. "Please, Dean! I need- I need-"

"You need what?" he teased. He twisted his fingers up to your g-spot, simultaneously ceasing his movements on your clit to press down on it hard.

"Oh, God!" you cried out, almost hyperventilating. The feeling of your orgasm building up was almost too much to bear. A dry sob wracked your body.

Dean nipped at your chest, gazing up at your contorted face with eyes so innocent looking you could've sworn, for a moment, that this was not a man you hated with your entire being, who was not currently doing the most sinful things to you with his hands.

You whimpered pathetically. "Please," you said in a small voice. "I need to come so bad." Your face flushed with shame as you finally admit what he's done to you, both with your words and body.

"All you had to do was ask," Dean said, sickly sweet. His hands sparked into motion again, redoubling their efforts. You let out a strangled scream as you were brought right back to the precipice, only this time, surely, he's going to let you?

It was like a pot boiling over, overwhelming heat spreading from your core out through your stomach, making your legs shake and your abs tighten. You made another strangled, desperate noise as you grinded down on his hand.

"That's it, princess, fuck yourself on my fingers," Dean goaded.

You struggled to catch your breath, eyes wide. Your face was hot and wet, and you realized numbly that tears were streaming down your face, running into your hair. He started to take his hands away, but your hands chased them, seizing them and bringing them back to your core.

Dean seemed surprised, but more than willing to fuck you past the point of no return. "Fuck, you just can't get enough, huh," he said, sounding mildly impressed. Your body shook as he all but stilled his fingers inside you, just rubbing your clit slowly until it became too much to bear and you pushed him off.

You laid there panting quietly, your body shivering from the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms you'd had in a while. For once, it seemed like Dean didn't know what to say.

You closed your eyes for a moment, then suddenly felt his hand on your clit again, rubbing vigorously. Your eyes flew open and you looked down to see Dean's face set in determination. You clutched at his wrist, trying weakly to get him away, knees trying to close around him, but it didn't take long for you to cum again with a shriek, heels digging into the mattress to push yourself away. Your cunt pulsed around nothing, and you felt a gush of arousal leave you. Dean looked delighted.

"I fucking knew it," he said triumphantly, holding up his hand to survey the mess.

"What?" you asked feebly as another shiver ran through your body.

"Knew you'd be so touch-starved I could get you to squirt," Dean explained smugly. He licked some of your arousal off his hand.

You threw your head back onto the bed exasperatedly. "God, I hate you."

"Could've fooled me," he returned, displaying his hand to you and smirking.

dividers once again by @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

[fallenneziah]

An unexpected spark.

Tag: @heiress-prime

Summary: Your relationship with Optimus is... Complicated. Between the adjustment to life on a new planet and saving your asses from the Decepticons, there was only so much you could handle. And having Optimus' kin had not been on that list for either of you.

Cw: Pregnancy, minor injury, implied sexual encounters, Femme reader. Optimus doesn't have the software update for dadification. Italics for past conversation.

Your relationship with Optimus is... Complicated. Purely for the fact that being sparkmates with a Prime is exactly how you'd expect it to be. 

Yes, Optimus had grown more intimate when you finally decided to stop dancing around each other's afts. Optimus was used to the way of the Prime, so it wasn't in his routine quite yet to acknowledge you romantically. Occasionally when you got some alone time he'd press his helm to yours and remind you how much he appreciated you for sticking by him.

Optimus cares about you, he does. He cares about you to the point that If you didn't contribute so much to the team and were few in numbers he may have yoinked you off the field for good. 

He hates seeing you come back dinged up with scratches glaring in your paint. He hates that exhausted look and he wishes he could keep you safe. 

You knew this, nudging him with your field and smiling softly at him from across the room, excited and lighting up like a puppy when his EM field would brush you back.

You'd sit and have your Energon in the morning together. In the past couple weeks Optimus had noticed the rate at which you had Energon had been increasing. You just found yourself thirsty a lot.

Optimus would tell you to go easy, you only had so much supply after all. It eased the aches you felt after spending the night curled up next to him.

Optimus left you satisfied. You knew it would be a difficult relationship, if not for his duties as Prime, but your survival. 

And you were no stranger to a recon mission, driving down the open Nevada road and taking in the dirt and grime under your tires. Optimus had given you coordinates to an emerging supply with a light squeeze of your shoulder and a loving gaze only he could pull off.

It was nice to spend time away. At least you didn't have to drag one of the kids with you. The children were so interesting. At least, earth children were. 

They were always full of energy, they always asked questions and wanted to be around and play with you. It made you chuckle a little.

Your drive down the road led you to a discarded backroad into the Nevada hills. You shifted your tire and diverted from the pavement off into the trees.

The constant ping from your interior leading the way.

You felt, in a sense, pent up. The way your back struts strained despite being tucked up into the carriage of your car. You could have chalked it up to your latest intimate night with Optimus.

Usually, you shake off the aches in a day or two. Optimus was the kind of 'bot who made up for his less-than-constant intimacy strings with an all-nighter that left you unable to move for the week following.

The weeks prior you had been more sensitive than usual, which Optimus had noticed. It left you both unable to find any time for intimacy because when you got to that point, you just couldn't handle it. But he was gentle. 

"Easy, am I hurting you??"

Your servos gripped onto the plates of his forearm, your expression twisting slightly. "No... I just.." You paused briefly to see if relaxing would ease the unusual pain and sensitivity.

"I don't know..."

"Should I stop?"

"No, no you're fine... I'll be fine."

Optimus' face at the time didn't show he was too convinced. He'd rather be cautious than be sorry later...

"You're coming up on the signal, be careful when you enter." Ratchet's voice broke you from your thoughts, causing you to slow down.

"I'll be careful."

You transformed and shook your pedes along the loose rock of the road. You scanned the area briefly, then continued on foot through the trees. The Energon supply would be right below you soon enough.

You absentmindedly rubbed your abdominal plating to ease the tension in your struts and fuel lines. He must have messed you up good considering the noticeable dent. You'd had it there for a bit, but it was barely noticeable.

The constant beep of the counter led your way through broken foliage and trees barely taller than yourself.

"Coming up on it." You said into your comm. You kept yourself at a good pace as you made it through and found the crater. 

Bingo.

"Get a move on!" A distant voice calls, causing you to duck behind a rock and bushes. 

"Could you useless 'cons work any faster!?"

You shifted and looked through the foliage to see a plateau-heeled Decepticon screeching away.

"Just... Perfect."

You leaned back, "Decepticons got the jump." You whispered into your comm and waited for Ratchet to update.

"How many??"

"Their usual mining crew... I'd say 15- maybe 20?" Your servo pressed against your plating again, feeling the uneasy warmth fill your gut. 

"I'll send Bumblebee and Bulkhead out to you, see if you can get a better idea of who we're up against." Ratchet again replied, giving you something to focus on while waiting for the scout.

You shifted against the rock and ducked back into the foliage. You tread up the small hill. Thankfully the only notable figure among them was Starscream. The rest looked like workers, they wouldn't pose a huge threat. 

You kneeled, your hip plating grinding loudly, making you freeze. The combined sink of your plating and the sound made you cringe. "Fraggin' hell..." 

You grimaced and continued to stay low and wait. It was all you could do. 

You sat there watching them mine the precious Energon that should be for you and the team. That wouldnt be the case if they didn't hurry up and get Bumblebee out here.

Your plating ached. It ached in a way that made you think about Optimus. About his hands on your hips and his denta on your neck cables.

Your plating heated, and the thought of Optimus made your fuel pump thump in your chassis.

"Frag," You whispered.

Your fans kicked on, and your panels clicked.

"Ratchet I- I'm not feeling well..." You swallowed hard.

"Not well?? What are your readings showing?"

You checked your monitor, looking down at the diagnostics on your forearm. You were experiencing intense tightening just above your hip plating. And the rising temperature caused your fuel lines to tangle and a lightheaded feeling to sink in.

"My plating feels... Too tight."

"Is it painful?"

"Yeah."

"Can you make it back?"

"I.. Yeah.." You started to stand.

You paused, and your servo came to your stomach plating. Your Energon levels were down to 40% despite your rationing before you left.

"Bumblebee and Bulkhead are on their way to your coordinates."

Optimus was in the other room, concentrating on some old data pads he skimmed whenever he wasn't on missions.

He heard Ratchet in the other room but tuned him out. A tight warmth grew in his chest which caused him to adjust and shake his shoulders slightly. But as he read the feeling grew more prominent until he couldn't ignore it. His EM field pulsed, feeling that faint pulse of your spark alongside his. It felt uneven. The usual soft pump in rhythm that comforted the Matrix in his chest felt off. 

Optimus pressed his servo to his chassis and tuned in to the feeling. Your spark throbbed against his rhythmically. The tight pulse and pull yearning for him, tugging the Matrix as if new life was growing the strength to stir from your chest.

It made him forget to breathe. He adjusted his optics again and pressed his chassis shut again, unaware it had come slightly ajar.

You leaned up against the rock, listening for anything around you with your servo still pressed against your abdomen. Footsteps softly came up behind you, a servo touching your shoulder. You jumped slightly and looked up to see Bumblebee. He whirred softly and pressed a digit to his helm as he moved toward the 'cons.

Bulkhead was close behind him. You sucked in the minor pain, took a deep breath and got on your feet again. You drew your arm cannon and followed the mechs out into the open.

"Hey, Screamer!" Bulkhead shouted and clanged his fists together. 

Starscream saw the three of you and frowned deeply. "Autobots!" His wings fluttered in a panic. "Get them!" He ordered the 'cons. They abandoned their mining and ran at you three.

You shot at the first wave, taking them down before they could get too close. Bumblebee and Bulkhead worked together to get the bigger bots and leave the smaller ones for you.

As you went to take another shot the ache returned.

You winced, taking down the miner and looking around the area. Starscream was nowhere in sight.

You were about to comm Ratchet, but a sharp pain in your chassis forced you to hunch over and hold yourself.

The energy in your veins is pumps and pulses. Bulkhead noticed you and quickly rushed to your side, defending your flank while you recovered. You recovered and moved toward the Energon reserve. Bumblebee and Bulkhead held their position. You rushed to the middle of the pit, Starscream jumping down in front of you.

"Where are you going?" He grinned and aimed his arm at you, spindly digit threatening to pull the trigger.

"Starscream-" You held a hand up, the other resting against the pain in your plating.

"Oh, you're not getting any mercy today!" He lunged at you and shot a round into your shoulder. You tumbled to the ground, the pain seering your plating. "Frag-" You reached your knee up and kicked him off, deflecting his arm that swung at you, twisting and throwing him off of you. His nimble frame was back on his feet in seconds. Luckily so were you. You raised your fists, blocking his left hook, his sharp arm plating screeching against yours.

His leg swept under your ankle and threw you to the ground again. He stood over you and aimed his arm in your face. "I've been waiting for this... Megatron will praise me." 

You panted and tilted your head back. "I wouldn't be too sure of that..."

A shadow fell over you both. Starscream's wings tucked in defeat as a fist violently shoved him out of the way and threw him against the wall. Starscream yelped, rock falling and landing in his lap.

Optimus stood over you, his servo reached for you and grabbed your arm to pull you up.

You winced and held yourself, feeling your struts and plates shift uncomfortably.

"Thank you."

He nodded firmly, activating his arm cannon and placing a protective arm on your shoulder. He moved you somewhere safer and rejoined the fight. You watched him go and smiled softly. Ratchet split from the group and came over to you. You slowly sat down and looked up at him as he worked. You took a deep breath and looked down. Your spark was warm, and your chest felt like it was going at a million beats per second.

Ratchet checked your diagnostics and nodded. "That was one of my fears... We need to get you out of here." You looked at him. How he looked at you made your spark flutter but for the wrong reasons. "Ratchet it's not..."

"It is. Optimus had a hunch."

You shuddered softly. Ratchet kept you sat down and watched over you protectively until the sound above the reserve grew quiet. Starscream squirmed out from his place and transformed, flying off. 

"We'll get him next time." You said.

"I'd say so." Bulkhead approached.

You tried standing but were met with resistance.

"I can walk," you said stubbornly, moving your hips slightly. Ratchet gave you a firm look and kept you down. Optimus walked over, the other two moving away so he could come close to you.

"It's as you thought, Optimus," Ratchet said and got up. He motioned the others to follow him and they went to look over the Energon.

You looked up at Optimus softly and searched his optics to try and identify any anger in his face. Or, anything. Any emotion would be great right about now. "I... I don't know how I didn't notice sooner... When would we even-"

Optimus gently reached out and took your servo. You looked down and then back up. Optimus fully kneeled to your side, squeezing your servo. "I am not upset. I'm not... anything, right now."

You sighed softly. "I should have known... all the signs were there." You looked down, "I should have known."

Optimus' faceplates softened, "I'm glad you're alright." He let go of your servo and cupped your faceplate, tilting his head down. Your shoulders loosened a little. You reached up to cup his neck when his helm met yours. He welcomed your EM field into his, surrounding you with a mellow warmth that soothed your hydraulics.

You were a nervous wreck. He knew that.

You leaned forward and nuzzled into his neck cables.

"Optimus.."

"I need to get you and the team home." His voice rumbled low in his chassis, soothing you with something fierce. He slowly leaned back and helped you up. Your knees wobbled and crumbled underneath you. Optimus caught you effortlessly, a large hand spreading across your breastplates, helping you lean back up. "Easy.." He kept you close to his body, a comforting weight in your chest that reminded you you were safe.

"I've never had to carry someone so much before."

You smiled up at him. "I wouldn't mind if you did it more often." 

He cracked a small smile at that. He effortlessly pulls you up off your pedes and against his warm chest. The others got the Energon they could, and Ratchet called Arce to open the bridge and bring you back to base. Optimus went first with you in his arms. He held you tightly and protectively as he made his way through the tunnel.

The team followed close behind, Arce shutting the bridge and coming to Ratchet's side.

"What happened out there?"

Ratchet looked up at Optimus, they shared a silent conversation for a moment before Ratchet turned back to his computer. "Mishap, come on, let's get the rest of this, yes?" The others nodded and followed Ratchet's instruction.

Optimus brings you back to your berthroom and slowly sets you down. Now that you were in private you could properly talk.

"I am not mad."

You looked up at him.

"I don't want you to think I am. We are in a dangerous war. I cannot blame you for this, nor am I mad at you for it. You couldn't have predicted this. I couldn't have either." He knew that wasn't entirely the case. You two were sexually reserved, sure. But you could have avoided this.

He gently reached out and touched the side of your helm. You leaned into it and reached up to touch his wrist.

"I am..." He paused. He didn't know what he was. How he felt, it was very mixed emotions. "I don't know what I feel."

You understood.

You leaned forward and nuzzled his wrist. You looked up at him with soft optics, "It doesn't change anything?" 

To that, Optimus shook his helm. "No, not a chance." You looked down, and a smile formed across your derma. "If it means anything... I wouldn't do this with anyone else."

Optimus chuckled softly.

You sat up a bit straighter. 

"I wouldn't feel privileged to raise a sparkling if it weren't with you." He said, his thumb tracing your jaw.

You leaned in and pressed your lips to his. He held you, his hand on your jaw slowly traveling to the back of your helm. His EM field pulsed around you, warming you as it wrapped around your body. He pulled back and pressed his helm to yours.

"I'm glad we're in this together." You whispered. Optimus was quiet in favor of kissing you again. One servo comes down to protectively rest against your abdominal plating.

If Primus brings him a child, then who is he to say no? It may not be the ideal condition, but he wouldn't want to raise a sparkling with someone else.

You gleamed up at him. He returned the soft smile, gently nudging your forehead. "You're going to be a sire," Your smile grew wider, the momentary fear and worry that troubled you replaced by the joyful realization of what was to come.

Optimus couldn't help thinking of the future, of Megatron, of others who would get to hurt you, who surely would try to lay a hand on his child. Megatron wouldn't go that far... Would he?

He didn't fragging care. Not right now. Right now he allowed himself to bring his walls down, to hold you and kiss you all over until you giggled.

"And you, my Cybertronian beauty, the carrier of our sparkling."

A higher honor than anything. And even if sometimes Optimus didn't have it all figured out, he knew that if there was any time to commit to being the best sparkmate he could, it was now. For you, and for your sparkling.

After all... It wouldn't be long. He could feel it in his spark.

[read-marx-and-lenin]

Liberals: Of course I participate in political actions other than voting! Liberals: Well, not that boycott. I mean, you can't expect me to give up *all* Coke products, right? Liberals: And don't you think that strike was a bit disruptive? I mean, those workers had kids to feed! You can't blame them for crossing the picket line! Liberals: And don't get me started on that riot you call a "protest". You can't expect to be taken seriously if you throw things at the police, can you? Liberals: Why should I donate to some half-baked community fund? They're not even an accredited charity. What if the people running it are scammers? Liberals: It's laughable that you think any third party could ever win an election. Why don't you work within the Democratic Party? It worked for the Nevada DSA. Briefly. Liberals: The Democrats might not care about migrants, the homeless, the disabled, the unemployed, or Palestinians, but there has to be someone they care about, right? Trans people! They've only somewhat thrown trans people under the bus, unlike the Republicans. If you don't vote blue, you hate trans people! Liberals: See? I'm politically active! I'm protecting trans people by voting for the Democrats. What have you even done for trans people, tankie?

[magiturge]

okay.. go my sheriff/hank ( individual and pairing ) headcanons / thoughts this is going to be really long, careful when you open it.

each dash is its own thing. for hank ( he / they / it / she is reserved. ) :

- hank is G01 / generation 1 grunt, but a particularly strange one in the sense that they are not a grunt. hank is a script. i headcanon hank as being the cannoneer / cannoneer script in the original marshmallow madness and how they are shown in the magiturge arena mode ending. i am on purpose ignoring that he was mentioned to be a G02 by swain.. hank is a script and as such behaves differently than everybody else because they were never intended to be a person or an entity. hank as the cannoneer script was intended to just be that, a placeholder with a face in the very early stages of nevada's creation and the nowhere. i started to lean into this headcanon a lot more when i saw a clip of krinkels answering a question regarding why the maker scribbles out hank in the cave drawings, with him saying "because he's a strange one. he's a very strange one. not really a.. not really a one with the identity as the maker understands it." ..i just think it'd be funny if hank was never meant to have an identity in the first place and was a function first before being a person. it's why hank is so down the straight and narrow about getting the job done, you gave him something to do and he will do it. i like to describe hank as being an extension of the machine itself as a script.

- hank's height, width and depth changes subtly to drastically with each time he dies and comes back. i like to keep his base height at 6'2" but if you were to linger around them for long enough, you might notice every so often that he seems a bit shorter than usual or a bit taller, or he has a bit more or less muscle somewhere. it's just a result of supply of material to sew him back together.

- hank harbors no sense of physical attraction to anybody in the sense of finding anyone 'hot', 'cute', 'pretty', 'sexy', etc. they see absolutely nobody as attractive in that sense and the most you will ever see in terms of complimenting appearances is with how much 'cool factor' there is to something.

- hank sees red. for them there is not really a black and white, a good vs evil, a grey area. everything is red in that everything and anyone can be a tool. it's not really a 'sees red and gets angry / violent' thing. everybody looks the same to it on a moral / alliance / loyalty point. it has no issue turning on you if you get in the way or alligning with you if you can work to the same goal it has.

- for awhile, hank behaved very npc like or average grunt like before the whole punching the boombox guy. a whole lot of no particularly violent activity until that incident and it being like the switch flip of 'oh wait. i dont really know why but i think ive done this kinda killing people thing before ( marshmallow madness ) but im really really enjoying it,' like it might be a natural thing hank knows to do. - almost all of hank's outfit is a diy project it works on when it is bored, parts are stolen during missions ( homes / clothing stores ) or straight from the garbage. in a sense that's how hank is gradually building an identity for themself.

∙ hank has no issue with dying itself, but it's a matter of what circumstance and how they die that will determine if that irritates it enough to come back. ( i.e some stupid rug pulling bullshit or getting a kill stolen by dying to something stupid. )

- much of hank's skin is discolored or outright not the same shade or tone as their original skin since they're a hankenstein of various people's body's now ( haha ). they're also missing some certain parts that don't particularly bother them. its more like accessory and so long as they have the necessary parts that won't cause them complications, it frankly doesn't give a shit if something is gone.

for sheriff ( he ) : - go my transgender bear. - sheriff self medicated with alcoholic and as a result, over the years became a functioning alcoholic. this is entirely based on the line of 'pass the whiskey' he has and also the whole.. debacle he's been put in. he smells always vaguely of whiskey as a result of this. he feels a bit braver drunk but y'know.. reality backhands him in the face again and he focuses.

- sheriff and jeb are not friends. at best they are aquaintances, allies by circumstance not by goal. sheriff is afraid of jeb and worries about pissing him off as it might mean he loses an ally and potentially gains an enemy if he doesn't comply with his orders ( i.e assisting jeb in plans like lending his men to deal with hank ). at this point in time, jeb seems wildly unstable and too zeroed in on his savior bullshit for sheriff to feel comfortable speaking up at all about not wanting to deal with this stuff anymore. sheriff was a normal guy first that had no intention of getting involved with this stuff in the first place until jeb pulled him into it with fear as a motivation. jeb isn't a friend, just a 'friendly-face'. - sheriff has gotten better at hiding his fear / non-fighter nature at least with the way he talks. the fear and the desire to live is always there but the way he presents himself feeds into how he is perceived. at the end of everything, sheriff is always running away from the site of conflict if he's in an unsafe spot or at a disadvantage. covering up his fear makes him appear very cocky and arrogant - sheriff's hair is long as well as his beard, it is like a mane. it's his pride and he tries his best to keep it well maintained but he's.. too stressed to keep it up all the time. there are some curly and wiggly looking hairs ( i don't know the right term for it ) sticking out, and some parts tangled and thick. he feels weird if he were to ask anyone of his men to brush it out. - sheriff is a lot better at fighting and defending himself at this current point in time ( mpn2 and ahead ) but he is held back by the fact he is worried about dying or getting injured in general. he's afraid of taking a risk and would much rather use traps and a whole lot of walls in the way. - sheriff likes to hum, whistle and sing quietly to soothe his nerves. unfortunately, given his desire to uphold a strong image, he overthinks that being heard humming or singing, even quietly, around any of the MERC units will have him perceived as too soft or an oddity. for this reason, he is usually found whistling little bits when he's actually roaming the MERC buildings and his humming and quiet singing is for when he's patrolling the industrial sector walls on his own. - he carries a level of care for the MERC under his leadership but has a confused relationship with his individuality and being a part of a group. he was a guy first and foremost and because of the responsibility that was put onto him by jeb to protect these people he feels an obligation to forego his feelings and emotional needs. as a result he doesn't really.. interact with them on a super friendly level as much as he would say, a stranger with a friendly chat. he sees them as just people to be protected, a group and not individuals. he can separate himself from them but he also cant. - the nutrient slop in a can he's been eating for so many years has dulled his sense of taste a bit. if you gave him something that tasted real, even as greasy as a goddamn burger his face would light up. hot food does things to your mind and you dont realize it until you've had it again. - sheriff and the industrial sector represent each other. with large walls and many defenses to protect himself but with unfortunate cracks and weak points created over time. there can be so many barriers but many pathways, many vents for someone to crawl through and find the weak point.

ok. go my old man yaori.

their entire relationship is a push and pull. - their relationship (?) is a secret for as much as they are capable of keeping it a secret. sheriff desperately wants to keep it a secret because he fears that his men ( MERC ) finding out could potentially get him exiled or worse killed for being a 'traitor'. he also doesn't want to lose that sense of safety and togetherness, a stable foundation for him to stand and walk on. it's why he kicks himself in the head about the whole thing because he knows he shouldn't be getting involved like this. - as i mentioned before, hank feels no physical attraction to anybody and that applies to sheriff as well. it feels nothing in terms of 'wow he's cute' or 'he's hot'. the times that it can be mistaken that hank finds something about sheriff that is cute in terms of physical appearance is for different reasons. for example.. sheriff blushing and hank responding positively to that is not because hank finds that image to be cute but because he understands that image to be a positive thing. if : sheriff is blushing, then : i did something good, since i understand blushing as something that happens when someone is flattered. it elicits a positive reaction from hank because he understands it as something good and beneficial, rather than it being found personally cute or pretty. - hank thinks that sheriff did have a sort of glow up and that he looks 'cooler' now ( i.e you don't look like a wimp anymore ) however he thinks that the absolute layering of clothes, body armor and ammo looks tacky as hell. he gets why sheriff is wearing all that but it could have better days. they do find the leather chaps sheriff wears to be the one thing that kind of look cool, so it has taken the liberty of messing with them a bit, with permission, to make them look a bit cooler. it likes leather. on the topic of what sheriff wears, hank also doesn't like what he's wearing because it makes sheriff obnoxiously annoying to fight in close combat. it'll swing at sheriff and feel the padding and get a bit irritated because he really is just layered in protection, no satisfaction that it normally gets from feeling the injury caused in a fight. ..hank knows that it'd be better to leave not too many injuries, but that doesn't stop it from being irritated when they trade punches and it can feel a bruise on the highway while sheriff likely hasn't gotten something so serious. it's the kind of bullshit it doesn't like. hank wears body armor and padding too but not nearly as much. - they're both at around level terms of fighting capability, it is their personalities and style that make the difference. hank does not like sheriff's style of fighting in the presence of other people watching whatsoever as he thinks it's cowardly and unengaging. he's always at a distance, rapid fire, itchy finger. it's like dealing with a turret with self awareness and a mouth to run insults at you. the bullshit bullshiiiit he doesnt like. it's why hank prefers the little spats they get in. - hank's biggest upside in their situationship is how direct and to the point they are, it really hates the dancing around the topic sheriff does. if sheriff is being particularly dodgy about something or acting differently or avoidant, hank asks directly what is going on. it figured out relatively fast that sheriff's cowardly avoidant nature applies to just about anything and it has to adapt to that. sheriff's biggest downside is his reluctance to vocalize his needs as he doesn't entirely perceive hank as a person yet, still seeing him partially as the man in the posters, meaning he doesn't believe hank is capable of accommodating, being affectionate, or being considerate of his needs.

- sheriff hates vocalizing or articulating anything that seems like proof to the world or himself of his affections towards hank. something simple as wanting to have an embrace, he does not want to say it. it's acknowledgement of his affections, and he doesn't want to acknowledge it. he would rather outright go for the hug or for hank to initiate it first. on the same note, neither of them say i love you to each other. hank doesn't particularly care.. it just sees it as another expression of affection and it doesn't find words to be as fun as actions. sheriff doesn't say it for the reasons above and it feels way too intimate for him anyway. it's like saying 'yes, hank j wimbleton most wanted person in nevada who has killed many many and killed me once as well, i lovey wovey you'. he feels stupid saying it. it's 3 words but he hears a lot more. - sheriff still maintains a grudge for having been killed by hank many years ago, it's sort of shallow now though. he already got even with hank at the start of this snowballing situation, as they had a spat and he shot them dead. - hank is the grounded one in the situationship, more mentally stable and.. decisively stable than sheriff. he often has to be very blunt so sheriff stops rocking around, thinking too hard about something. - they don't talk to each other that often but on the chances they do, they do have some.. detailed conversations on things. it can range from something mundane as guns, what attachments they like on theirs to .. more delicate topics.

- hank often returns to sq hq smelling faintly of whiskey and sheriff often returns to MERC warehouses smelling vaguely of rotting bodies and blood. they both have smelled each other and they both think they both smell like shit. when possible, sheriff will continuously nudge that hank go and bathe, though that means sheriff has to as well. - hank thinks sheriff is a bit.. like crazy? or at least not making the smartest decisions sometimes. he wonders why sheriff maintains really long hair even though he works around machinery a lot. hank thinks that he's beign a bit ridiculous for being such a worry wart and not doing anything about the glaring issue in his wardrobe. it has vocalized this issue and are usually met with sheriff giving him a bit of a dirty look. at the least, hank does like to touch his hair. sheriff doesn't particularly care that much about hank touching his hair, just that he doesn't cut it. it likes to feel the texture and pick out tangles, it gives hank something to do in a mundane slow time. - sheriff has one of hank's black bandanas. it let him keep it when sheriff as gotten a bit of a nasty slash during a spat they had together, hank had tied it around the wound and he let sheriff keep it. sheriff now uses it as part of his outfit from time to time. it alternates usually from 3 places : a hair tie for a low ponytail, tied around his arm, or most unseen, in his right back pants pocket. aaha. hheh. heh. ok i'm tired, there's more but big man wants to eat his damn ass food.. idk uh, my writing somewhat properly is escaping me

[cdroloisms]

always absolutely fucking hilarious when sbiers in their self-righteous need to assert themselves as better than everyone else in the same way they've done since 2020 even when they're apparently 'out of the fandom' and consider the whole thing cringe and dead (skill issue, methinks) go all um acktually no one cared abt any of the lore except for c!sbi. like well for one thing i don't know of a c!sbi personally speaking i'd like for you to point out to me where character sleepy boys inc ever like, existed, because it certainly wasn't in any dream smp i watched like is there even a single moment where the four of them interact together alone??? and secondly, it's always reeeeeeally obvious when they mean this as a diss on The Other Side Of The Fandom (read, dream team and co) when two-thirds of the dream team just did nawt have any interest in being part of the 'main characters' in the first place and would much rather do their own thing and roleplay in ways that wouldn't get picked apart for ages on twitter dot com, and the other member of the dream team played a character so integral to the lore that even c!inniters will often name him before they name their own goddamn guy because they cannot keep his name out of their mouths (see, the meme i saw like literally just yesterday that boiled down to me, after learning the dream smp lore: i need to kill c!dream). like bro yall are c!inniters you're not fooling anyone you think that the entire story revolves around this one teenager being abused and then completely ignore the months of abuse that was shown on screen for us before exile. "c!sbi" like cmon now guys the ao3 pages are like, right there, we all know who ends up being the villain for ur sbi fanfic that has its foundations in a dynamic that literally never existed in canon.

like "no one cared about anyone's lore except for wilbur and tommy--" well yes they were in fact some of the main fucking characters. imagine someone going up to you and going "well no one cared about the lore in the star wars original trilogy except for luke and leia" like damn really?? (now imagine this same person trying to convince you that darth vader's role was unimportant, actually.) like yeah the dream smp involved a lot of separate storylines and each of those storylines might've had their own "main cast" of characters but i'm also not blind bro, the story that started at the start of the fucking server and the start of the fucking lore was ABSOLUTELY the "wilbur-dream-tommy" triangle that is, in fact, the story that the l'manburg revolution was built on and the story that remains the throughline literally until tommy and dream have their confrontation with a nuke coming down over their heads, something that the characters themselves acknowledge with the repetition of the idea of tommy and tubbo against dream. LIKE ALKJSDFKJSADF yeah bro there were main characters in the tommy-dream-wilbur story an that's also the story that people tended to be invested in in the beginning, to the point where even other self-contained stories in the dream smp absolutely referenced and emulated it (cough cough, las nevadas). like, why are we acting like it's at all groundbreaking for people to be invested in THEEE fucking story the one that first started to exist because at the time basically no one else was part of The Roleplaying Trio and then slowly got padded out and developed as the server developed more and more into the lore server?

and it's the fact that none of these people, too, would deny that they care about ex. c!schlatt in manberg, right, or c!quackity in relation to c!wilbur's deal, etc etc whatever. like breaking news you gaf about The Story as a dream smp fan wow am i supposed to be like, surprised. do you want a medal. LIKE LKJASDJF

[anistarrose]

Things To Know To Get Your Vote Counted — Non-Exhaustive List

[Plain text: "Things To Know To Get Your Vote Counted — Non-Exhaustive List."]

Post date: October 28, 2024. Contains information relevant to both in-person and absentee voting.

Same Day Voter Registration:

[Same Day Voter Registration:]

If you're not already registered to vote, over 20 states (and DC) allow you to register while you're at the polling place on election day (or for early voting). If you're making a last-second decision to vote, or you thought you were registered but found out you weren't, these states give you options up until (insert time the polls close) on November 5th.

[ID: map with states shaded where same-day registration is allowed in 2024. States that allow it are: California, Colorado, Connecticut, District of Columbia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Iowa, Maine, Maryland, Michigan, Minnesota, Montana, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Mexico, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. (North Carolina only allows it during early voting.) End ID.] (Source: Ballotpedia)

Alaska and Rhode Island only allow same-day registering voters to vote for president/vice president. North Carolina only allows same-day registration in the early voting period. Most states require an ID and/or proof of residency to register as usual — the Ballotpedia page is a good starting point for researching requirements in your own state.

Casting a Provisional Ballot:

[Casting a Provisional Ballot:]

Provisional ballots are cast by voters who can't prove they are eligible to vote at the polling place on Election Day. For example, if you:

don't have a photo ID on you, but it's required in your state?

requested an ID ballot, but had to vote in person because you didn't receive it?

changed your name or address, but it doesn't show up in the registration information?

have your eligibility challenged by a poll worker for any reason?

Then you should ask for a provisional ballot. Moreover, federal law requires election officials to offer voters a way of tracking whether their vote was counted. Many states have online provisional ballot trackers.

Provisional ballots are used in all states except for Idaho and Minnesota. To learn more about your specific state, I recommend the National Conference of State Legislatures (archive link if the site is down).

Tracking Your Ballot and Curing Signatures:

[Tracking Your Ballot and Curing Signatures:]

In addition to provisional ballots, if you've submitted an absentee ballot, Vote.org compiles ballot trackers to ensure your ballot is received — the vast majority of states have an online version.

Moreover, if voting absentee, familiarize yourself with your state's cure period for signature errors, and be on the lookout for communication in case your signature is found not to match. 33 states require some kind of notification and ballot-curing process — which means that if your ballot is rejected, you have a chance to fix it, albeit most likely needing to appear in person.

Be Careful About Phones, Ballot Selfies, Political Clothing:

[Be Careful About Phones, Ballot Selfies, Political Clothing:]

Many states disallow taking pictures of your ballot, and even some of the states listed as "allowing" it only do so under specific conditions (ex: your face isn't in the photo, the photo isn't taken at the polling place, et cetera). Moreover, several states go even further, and ban phones at the polling place altogether. Nevada, Maryland, and Texas are the states I'm aware of, but there may be more.

Also, at least 21 states ban political apparel or buttons in polling places. Regarding both apparel and phones, it is also possible that cities could set their own rules, so you should err on the side of caution unless you know for a fact what's allowed and what isn't.

Responding to Voter Intimidation:

[Responding to Voter Intimidation:]

866-Our-Vote (866-687-8683) is a hotline you can contact, which will help connect you with lawyers and federal investigators. Their website also lists hotlines in Spanish, Arabic, and some East & Southeast Asian languages. If you witness or experience a civil rights violation, you should write down your account for future reference, contact the DOJ Civil Rights Division, and possibly also a local ACLU division.

Other Information:

[Other Information:]

Getting time off work to vote, state-by-state

State election department contact information

Vote411 (voting law information & candidate information)

If anyone notices an error or broken link in this post, please let me know so I can correct it. If anyone would like to add on information in the notes, please do so — especially if it's specific to your state! Please just include a source if possible, and present the information as accessibly as you can. Overall, good luck out there.

[quacktities]

I don't care how wishfulfilment-y and ooc it is but I like to think that after C! Wilbur moved to Utah, he kind of healed a bit and reflected on a lot of his actions and he's in some community service job because he feels like he's making amends for what he's done by doing it (and also he likes feeling important and like he's helping people). And maybe he's taken up a writing hobby, and he has a book in the works and he keeps rewriting his drafts but he is genuinely having fun for what feels like the first time in a long time. He still occasionally goes back to his old bad habits but he's in a better place now and he's made some new friends and connections. He still tries to keep contact with some of the people he knew though.

He's trying to give Tommy some space but also trying to keep in touch and he's been semi successful with it. He's given Fundy complete space and tries to respect his decision that he doesn't want him in his life anymore but he does try to leave the door open for if Fundy ever changes his mind even if he doesn't count on it. He's sent Tubbo a letter but hasn't gotten a response and doesn't think he will. He's tried getting closer to Niki and it hasn't exactly worked out but they're still in contact and send eachother letters at least once every 5 months (the letters take a while though because they both live far away). He did see her when he visited Philza once though. And even if they're not as close as they used to be, he's glad they're able to keep in touch after everything.

Him and Quackity surprisingly exchange letters quite oftenly. It started out with Wilbur sending him one to properly apologise since he never got the chance to and it had been on his mind and to his surprise, Quackity actually replied (with a snarky response but a response nonetheless). And then it kind of became a pattern for them to send eachother letters quite regularly since Utah and Las Nevadas aren't that far apart so it travels faster. Their letters range from playful stupid banter to insights about eachothers weeks to snarky remarks laced with genuine advice to occasional glimpses of sincerity and care. Despite everything they're actually on pretty decent terms and Quackity's actually visiting him in a week. Wilbur's quite excited and giddy about it even if he won't admit it

Overall he's in a better place now even if there's a still lot of things to work on and even if what he's done still haunts him some days, he's coming to terms with it. He hasn't healed completely nor is he really truly happy but he's getting there and maybe it will be okay

[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Eleven

Day: Thursday, February 29th/March, 1st* Time: 10:45 PM EST

By the time the Trojans and Lions hit halftime Neil had forgotten all about Kevin. He'd been so wrapped up in the Foxes' season and the Ravens he'd forgotten how spectacular the rest of the Big Three were. These teams played like they were professionals. They didn't have the Ravens' spotless record but they were only a half-step behind Edgar Allan. Kevin had warned them weeks ago the Foxes weren't ready to face these schools. For once his callous dismissal felt like a gentle understatement. He wasn't the only one who found it a sobering sight. Dan muted the commercials, tapped the remote against her thigh in a nervous rhythm, and said, "So we definitely need to step it up, guys." Kevin frowned at her. "Even if you'd stepped it up when I told you to a year ago, you would have no chance of beating them. There is nothing at all you can do this late in the year. They are better than we are and they always will be." "Do you get off on being such a Debbie Downer?" Nicky asked. "Denial does none of us any good," Kevin said. "We struggled against Nevada. How do you honestly expect us to make it past the Big Three?" "California's overdue for a big earthquake," Nicky pointed out. "That'd take care of USC, at least." "That's a little extreme, don't you think?" Renee asked. "We need something extreme at this point," Allison said. Renee's expression was calm and her tone steady, but Renee didn't need to look disappointed in them for them to get the message. "The Trojans had our backs when we needed them most. Do you really want them to suffer just so we can profit?" "It's just not fair," Nicky said, shying away from her gaze. "Us getting this far and putting up with so much and then losing here, I mean." "We haven't lost yet," Dan said, "but we will lose if you give up right out of the gate." Kevin started to say something Neil knew would be negative and dismissing. Neil reached behind Andrew and popped Kevin in the back of the head to shut him up. Matt choked on a laugh and tried unsuccessfully to pass it off as a cough. Kevin froze for a startled second, then sent Neil a scathing look. "No one wants to hear that right now," Neil said. "If you hit me again," Kevin started. Andrew cut in with a casual, "You'll what?" Kevin shut up but didn't look happy about it.

Art used with permission by Rainbowd00dles. Thank you @rainbowd00dles.

(I merged the og art as well as the re-draw because I adore Andrew's face in the second panel.)

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

[ryemackerel]

"in my life, why do i give valuable time to people who don't care if i live or die?"

wyllow sage, the same goof ive been drawing for ages, but she now has a new name and design now :) the au has been in development for years, but this is my first post centered on the new storyline of the "TINE/This Is Not the End" au 🫶 (and ofc, she's been renamed for certain reasons HAGASHSV)

and ofc, the TINE au is still in HEAVY development, so some parts of wyllow and the other characters' lore is still missing. some stuff might not make sense yet? so the lore WILL change whenever needed. consider this just an intro into what ideas i have so far :)

basic summary!

[wyllow used to live with her entire family: her two siblings and her parents. she was born a god, her parents being gods themselves. however, after a series of tumultuous events that lead to her death, she is suddenly brought back to life.

unwilling to face her family again, she decides to live completely on her own. she lives in her own apartment and works minimum wage in a gas station, located in a small town in a desert. this just so happened to be minutes away from the new, upcoming, bustling city of las nevadas.]

for things such as what was the cause of her death, and what/who exactly brought her back to life, and why she chose her current lifestyle, i hope i can figure those parts of her story out as i continue developing the TINE au. again, the storyline is still a heavy work in progress, so i currently only have the basic vision of how it might go. :)

(version without filter for those that need accurate colors refs vvv)

[roosterforme]

Two to Tango Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley isn't afraid of a little competition between the Naval aviators and Air Force pilots. And when you prove to be as good as you claimed, he refuses to back down.

Warnings: Adult banter, swearing

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This fic was written for a request! Thanks for reading! And please check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun.

"This is the worst fucking week of the whole goddamn year," Bradley muttered to Phoenix, Hangman, and Coyote as they stood on the blazing hot tarmac in southern Nevada. 

"Seven days of training with these assholes," Phoenix added, lowering her sunglasses to the tip of her nose and glaring at the four US Air Force pilots standing a few feet away.

"I love how Maverick told us we were lucky to be the four who were chosen, when honestly nobody wants to be here," Coyote complained, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his flight suit.

"Let's torch these losers and get back to San Diego," Hangman said with a devilish grin.

"Doubt any of them can even fly well enough to compete," Bradley said, eyeing up the pilot who just spun around to face him. 

"Excuse me?" you said, strolling confidently toward him with your chin in the air. "What did you just say?"

Bradley smirked. He didn't care if you were going to call him out; he and the other Naval aviators were the best, and he could back up his words any day of the week. Plus you were kind of cute, and getting you all flustered could be fun for him.

"We were just discussing your ineptitude. Well, not yours specifically, sweetheart. Just the general incompetence of Air Force aviators in general," Bradley said, and he heard his friends hooting with laughter around him.

He had expected you to blow up at him, but your placid smile was almost more alarming. "It's really cute, sweetheart, how you think you're better because you can land on a boat. When really, nobody gives a fuck about you at all," you stated calmly. 

Bradley would never admit that he was the one who was feeling flustered, so he just crossed his arms over his chest and said, "It takes real skill to land on an aircraft carrier. Runways are for amateurs," he said, inching closer to you.

"It's almost cute how stupid you are," you told him. "What's your dumb call sign?"

"Rooster," he told you, and you smirked. "What's yours?"

"Tango. As in you don't want to tango with me, sweetheart. So since you're running your mouth, why don't we make a little wager?" you asked, standing your ground as Bradley and his cohorts laughed at you. 

"What did you have in mind?" he asked.

"Two hundred bucks says Air Force ends the week with more points than Navy," you told him, glaring at him over your sunglasses. 

Bradley nodded slowly. "Okay, sounds good. But, if I end up with more points than you, you've gotta say something nice about me in front of everyone."

You chuckled. "And if I end up with more points than you, you'll be the one saying something oh so flattering about me."

Bradley stuck his right hand out and you took it in your smaller one. "Deal. Sweetheart," you told him before turning and stomping away in your boots, back to the other Air Force pilots.

"You've got nothing to worry about," Phoenix said, patting Bradley on the shoulder. "We're gonna smoke them."

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

The following morning, Bradley was awake at five and stretching. He'd have a full day of long distance running and obstacle course races ahead of him, and he was determined to take a massive lead in points right off the bat. No way he was going to lose money to a bunch of whiney Air Force pilots who wouldn't be able to cut it at Top Gun. 

He was the first one in the cafeteria, and he selected his breakfast very carefully, trying to get the maximum amount of calories he could. When he turned to find a seat, he saw you breeze into the room. Out of your flight suit, you looked hotter than hell, and Bradley almost dropped his tray of food.

"Morning, sweetheart," you crooned, barely glancing at him as you grabbed a bunch of random food. Your athletic pants were skin tight, and your matching shirt left very little to the imagination and showed off an inch of skin all the way around your waist. Your hair was pulled back showing off your neck and upper back, and Bradley was so mad at himself for picking a fight with you. Because now you automatically found him annoying, while he was thinking about how much he'd like to touch you.

You turned away from the food, leaving him in the dust while he stared at your ass. Now he was distracted. A distraction would be very bad. Especially when his reputation was on the line. "Fuck," he muttered.

He went to sit down at the table where you were already eating alone. "That seat's taken," you told him when he pulled out a chair. When he reached for the one next to it, you told him, "That one is, too." 

"Let me guess," he rasped, setting his tray down anyway. "They're all taken."

You smiled at him while you licked your lips. "You're not as dumb as you look."

Bradley just smirked and sat down directly across from you. "And you're not as sweet and friendly as you look," he said before shoving half of a breakfast sandwich into his mouth and chewing it up. 

"You think I look sweet?" you asked, leaned a little closer to him across the table. 

Bradley let his eyes dip down to your mouth and then your neck before sweeping back to your eyes. "I didn't mean it as a compliment."

Your smile never wavered. "That's fine, because I lied to you."

"About what?" he asked, eyes narrowed. 

"You are as dumb as you look," you told him, nodding at someone behind him. "The seats really are taken."

Bradley turned to see your Air Force teammates looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "You're sitting with us? You know this is a competition, right?" one of them asked.

"This asshole bothering you, Tango?" asked the biggest guy, and Bradley turned back to look at you, your face shining with mirth. 

"Nah, Killer," you replied, looking right at Bradley. "He's just a dumb pussycat. Couldn't hurt a fly." 

Bradley desperately wanted to keep teasing you, but not with company around. "Should I go then?" Bradley asked as he started to stand. 

"No, why don't you stay and get to know the guys. They aren't as sweet and friendly as I am, sweetheart," you told him, walking away without a backward glance. 

And then Bradley had to endure the most uncomfortable breakfast of his life. 

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

Bradley was two miles into the ten mile run, and he was feeling great. He was keeping pace with Hangman, saving as much energy as he could for the last mile. He ran side by side with Jake, neither of them talking. The sun was intense, and he had already soaked through his compression shorts and his US NAVY TOP GUN tee shirt. But he was determined to win. 

At mile six, you came out of nowhere and caught up with Bradley and Jake. 

"Hey, boys," you said casually. You barely sounded winded at all, and instead of pouring sweat, you looked as good as you had at breakfast. "You guys look a little warm," you said, taking in Bradley's sweaty form from head to toe. "See you at the finish."

Then you tore off ahead of them. Bradley was impressed and once again distracted by your ass. He tried his best to keep up, but it seemed like you kept gaining on him. 

"Damn. She's fast," Jake huffed next to him, and Bradley just grunted. "How much money did you bet?"

"Shit," Bradley gasped, trying to pick up the pace. 

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

You had been waiting for him at the finish line, cheering him on by chanting "Rooster!" very loudly and looking like you'd barely broken a sweat. Meanwhile, Bradley had a horrible stitch in his side and was doubled over. He wasn't sure how he was going to manage doing the obstacle course after this, let alone try to beat you at it. 

"You okay, old man?" you asked, crouching down next to him and smirking. 

Bradley turned to look at you. "How old do you think I am?"

"Too old to beat me," you replied, shoving a water bottle in his face. "Drink up. It will be more fun for me to destroy you in the obstacle course if you're properly hydrated."

Then you walked away, and Bradley had to admit he kind of liked your smart mouth. 

Once the points were tallied after the ten mile run, the Air Force team was leading by a small margin. Bradley was angry as he confronted his teammates. "Okay, who dropped the ball?" he asked, eyeing Coyote with one eyebrow raised. 

"I'm not a runner! I'll destroy them on the obstacle course," Coyote promised, and Bradley knew he would. 

Bradley also knew he was exhausted while you looked like you were ready to tear up every obstacle in your way. "Yeah, Tango," the guys on your team all said, giving you high fives. 

It was one thing to be the best on the ground, but being the best in the air was where Bradley would shine. So he would try to get a good time on the course and then focus on the rest of the week. 

Everyone groaned when they got to the course after lunch. It looked like a mud pit that was now baking in the sun, and Bradley thought he would rather run another ten miles than have to do this shit. 

"Let's work as a team to start," Phoenix told the guys. "I am going to need help getting over the second and third walls quickly." So they came up with a game plan to boost Nat over the walls since she was much shorter than they were. Then she would have no trouble crawling under the ropes that came next. Each of them had their strengths, and they would stick together when they could.

Both teams lined up, and when the whistle was blown, they were off. Bradley watched out of the corner of his eye to see that the Air Force team went with the same game plan. They were boosting you over the wall at the same time Bradley was practically throwing Phoenix over. Then he used all of his upper body strength to pull himself up and over. The next few walls were taller, and Coyote had to have Phoenix practically stand on his shoulders so the guys could use her body to pull themselves up. 

"Fuck!" Phoenix yelled. "You weigh a shit ton, Bradley!"

"I'm sorry," he gasped, pulling her over the wall with him once he had reached the top. Then he reached down to give Hangman a hand to grab. 

Navy was pulling ahead of Air Force, but Bradley was determined to keep the lead. Now everyone was starting to work more independently, and he could see that you were ahead of him going through the tires. Bradley forced himself to move, shoving his larger form under the ropes and diving into the mud when necessary. 

Coyote, Phoenix and Hangman were all close behind him, and he tried to encourage them along. But when it came to the mile run back to the starting line, Bradley went full force. He was gaining on you now, each of his strides counting for two of yours. Pumping his arms and gasping for air as his chest and throat burned, he caught up to you just as you crossed the line.

"A tie!" the officer with the stopwatch said. "And the best course time this year!"

Bradley watched you walk in a circle before you bent in half with your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath. Much less gracefully, he plopped down into more mud and rolled onto his back, baking in the sun and sucking in air. 

When he opened his eyes a few seconds later, you were making your way toward him with your hand outstretched. Bradley gave you a high five and let you help him to his feet.

"Impressive, old man," you told him. Bradley rolled his eyes as he stood, massaging the stitch in his side. 

"Yeah, well..." he started, just as he saw his teammates in the distance. "Age comes with experience."

You narrowed your eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Bradley just shrugged as he looked at you. "I'm just saying, it must be nice to win races because of age and stamina, but that has nothing to do with your flying."

Your eyes went wide and you took a step closer to him. "Listen up, sweetheart. I've worked my ass off to be the best. And you don't know anything about me or my experience. So why don't you stay in your own lane and watch me destroy you and everybody else." You were practically touching him now, seemingly just seething in your anger. 

Bradley's heart was pounding. You were covered in mud and yelling at him. And embarrassingly enough, he was kind of turned on. He didn't even mind you calling him old man. But now he felt a little bad about what he had said.

"Listen, I-"

But he was cut off by you planting your hand on his chest and pushing yourself away as your teammates and his all crossed the finish line in a large group. You raised your middle finger up behind your back and aimed it at him when you walked away.

"Shit," Bradley muttered. He hadn't meant to piss you off even more. Honestly, he liked you. You were smart and quick witted. Cute too. 

He was going to have to apologize when he had you alone again. Hopefully letting you call him old man for the rest of the week would help smooth over what he'd said. 

"We just barely beat their combined time," Coyote said, panting to catch his breath. 

Hangman was walking in circles chugging water while Phoenix patted Bradley on the shoulder. "I'm never letting you use me as a human rope again. That was painful," she said.

"I'm sorry, but at least we won this round," he told her. "We'll get up in the air tomorrow and kick their asses."

As everyone made their way back toward the locker rooms to get cleaned up before dinner, Bradley cut you off in front of the ladies' locker room door.

You planted both hands on your hips and looked up at him. "You lost, sweetheart? Mens' showers are that way." You nodded your head to the side where Coyote was disappearing through the door. You had a streak of dried mud running across your forehead, and your hair was an absolute mess. 

"No. Listen, I just wanted to apologize," he said, running his hand through his muddy hair. "I'm sure I came across as a bit of a sore loser when I insinuated that you lack experience in the air. You're right, I don't know anything about it. Sorry."

There was nobody else around as you closed the distance between your bodies and tipped your head up to keep your eyes on his. "Yesterday you called me incompetent. Today you called me inexperienced. What are you planning on calling me tomorrow?" you asked in a controlled voice, but your eyes were angry.

When Bradley didn't respond right away, you let your fingers rest on his abs before flattening your palm there. Slowly you dragged your hand up the front of his mud soaked shirt, teasing the hard planes of his body. Bradley didn't dare move as he watched your eyes which were focused on your own hand. He wanted to kiss you, but chances were you actually hated him and were just trying to get a rise out of him for your own entertainment. 

But when your hand traveled over his pecs and up around the scars on his neck, you stroked your thumb softly there. His pulse quickened as his dick throbbed. "Oh, so now you're quiet, old man? Gotta say, I like this version of you much better." 

Bradley didn't dare move as you pressed up onto your toes and kissed him hard, pushing your fingers up roughly into his messy hair. He wanted to turn you and push you up against the wall, press his hardening length against you and make you moan. 

But as soon as he had his hands on your hips, you pulled out of his grasp and slapped him lightly on the cheek. 

"Apology accepted. For now," you said, pointing at him as you turned to walk into the locker room. 

Bradley stood there for a moment in shock before he crept quietly into the men's room with a boner. 

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

Thanks for reading this one! It will be four parts total! And thanks for all of your help @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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[idyat]

Hi hello 👋👋

Can you write some hcs for the main 4 +Jebus with a reader that flinches?

(If that's too much then just Hank is fine :3 )

Love your writing too! It is very pleasant to read :D

Soooo sorry for how long this took. And thank you so much!

Main 4 + Jebus x Flinchy reader headcanons

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

Hank:

-Nobody would be surprised by the fact that Hank can be very brash, and that therefore he makes people flinch a lot. It actually took them a bit of time to realize how often you do it because of this, and because they don't pay much attention to people until it's for a fight or he starts caring about them.

-If you start staring at eachother, expect them to suddenly brings their head forward just to get a laugh out of your flinching. Unless you don't like it. Then he'll stop immediately.

-They can be surprisingly gentle with you afterwards. The best murderer of Nevada should know how to handle as many situations as possibly after all.

-Believe it or not, he flinches a lot too! This is both because he has to be on constant alert and because his torn and battered body often just fails him. It's a little annoying when he's in the middle of a fight and his legs forget how to walk and he gets pummeled with bullets, but we digress.

-If it can be done, they'll try to help you control your flinching a little better. Especially if it happens during dangerous situations or combat, as that is his area of expertise. Maybe you could return the favour! Especially if you've dealt with this longer than he has.

-If the situation could suggest it, he checks for any potential hostile everytime you flinch. Or, they check if you are okay. A little hyperbolic? Maybe, but he takes every little thing about you seriously, including your flinching.

-He'll probably sneak up on you by accident a few times after rewiring his brain to be on ninja mode all the time.

SANFORD:

-Hopefully you're not too flinchy at loud noises, because Sanford has a few volume control issues with his voice. (If you don't get what I mean, listen to his Madness: Project Nexus voice lines.)

-And with the bombs and rapidly flying hook... Yeah, the poor guy is trying his damndest to be gentle, and he is failing.

-He's a bit of a worrywart when it comes to you, so expect a lot of apologies whenever he swings his arm a little too quick and fast or starts yelling suddenly.

-You'll probably have to reassure him if it isn't that big of a deal. Being himself is nothing to apologize about!

-He's also a bit concerned if this can happen when you're fighting or running away from something. He knows from experience that the slightest movement can mean life, death or severe injury in some situations. At least he's usually not far behind to take the hits or kill the threat.

-Sometimes he mildly startles you and chuckles. He likes the face you make when he does that.

DEIMOS:

-Another one who loooves to startle you just for the fun of it. And another one who'll stop if you ask him to. But if you're okay with it, expect him to hug you from behind with a "BOO!" and a giggle. (Then again, he'd do this whether or not you flinch at it.)

-He both likes to be annoying and is a little dumb. He'd ask you shit like "so do you flinch EXTRA when you pull back the measuring tape?" unironically and think he's hot shit who's sooo good at teasing you.

-"Does it work like a radar or something?"

"A what?"

"Like, do you flinch without knowing and that tells you if there's something nearby?"

"...Sometimes I flinch without realizing it."

"Yeah, now that I think about it... was a pretty stupid question."

"Didn't think before asking, hm?"

"I don't think a lot."

-Outside of his teasing, he's not likely to make any sudden movements or sounds, and will apologize if he accidentally startles you.

-He's very gentle when that happens. His voice is soft and raspy and his arms wrap so carefully around you. He doesn't actually take it that seriously if he can see you're fine, but he adores when he can be cute and romantic with you. And you probably like it too.

2BDAMNED:

-Doc noticed your common flinching whilst analizing you for whatever it is you do. Peaked his curiosity a little.

-He's one of the only two who actually thinks about asking if you have any idea why it happens, common flinch triggers, if there is a reason did it come with anything else he can help with, etc. He's very meticulous when he asks you.

-If your occupations aren't that dangerous, then he won't mind it; however if you often find yourself in danger, then he will eventually express a bit of concern, especially if you've had problems with it before. While he doesn't fight much himself, he may butt in a little, which could make for some bonding time.

-2B is very slow, so you won't find yourself flinching because of him... Unless you accompany him in operating his strange machinery. Only he truly understands those things.

-He'll often ask you if you're okay after he sees you get startled, and you may notice how closely he looks at or even how precisely he rubs the part of you he saw drop. While it may not be obvious at first, he cares about you so much and loves to observe every little detail about you

JEBUS:

-He will also ask if you know where it comes from. However he won't really try to suggest reducing the flinching, as he thinks you do well enough on your own.

-What he will do however, is gifting you a whole lot of armour and weapons "just in case". (He is indeed worried, but has a hard time expressing it.)

-Although he doesn't really make any brash noises or moves himself, trust that anytime he catches somebody making you flinch, he WILL get grumpy and protective. Even if you assure him it's no problem yourself, he'll be glaring daggers at them until they're out of the room.

-If there ever in an incident where he startles you, it probably would be while he's having a burst of anger. It would take a moment for him to realize and calm down.

-Once he does, you'll see him try to express his guilt and affection the best he can. There are not a lot of people he's genuinely cared about besides you, he doesn't want to snap and burden somebody else with himself.

-Bodyguard! As said earlier, if he was protective of you before, he is VERY protective now.

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

Sorry that 2B and Jebus' sections are a little shorter. At least Hank got a bonus 7th line.

[beemers-hell]

HANK. HEAD CANONS. pretty please?

IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE

Hank HCs!

Early 50s

AMAB that doesn't really give a shit about gender, has what i like to describe as "object permanence romance" i.e. he doesn't think about or want to engage in romantic situations unless it's offered to him, or more or less, he dgaf until he visibly percieves the romantic/even sexual thing in front of him!

Around 7'00", was originally 6'02" but kept getting larger due to his body being modified the more times he died!

Boricua

The Three A's as my guy Blade describes it: Autistic, Albino, and has Alopecia!

His body is more or less not really his own anymore, he's kind of a Frankenstein's monster of dead bodies brough back to life. Due to this, he has all sorts of aches and pains from his body not really matching any one source within him, as well as minor complications stemming from the fact that Doc really isn't a doctor, he just knows how the body works! Sanford takes care of fixing anything major that pops up with his body failing or rejecting parts since he actually has field experience/knowledge, while Doc takes care of the more cybernetic parts of Hank's innards that he's needed to install over the years.

Seems to be over and or understimulated like, 24/7, this dude hasn't really felt peace in a LOOOOOOOOONG time which explains why he's such a jackass a majority of the time. He's capable of showing care for others but he's just in a bad mood all the time from being either over or under stimulated.

Like I mentioned with Doc's HC post, the two were once together, before the events of the series, but eventually drifted apart in a romantic sense after things got bad. It was clear him and Doc's goals were vastly different, which led to them splitting. They still work together because Doc's one of the only people Hank feels like he can trust.

I don't think Hank is actually evil, he's just really fucking tired of the path he's gone down in life, but clearly the higher powers of Nevada have something else in mind for him. He feels like he has this weird feeling thats "possessing" him to some degree, not in a literal sense of possession but like in a way where he feels like something is driving him to continue his slaughter of Nevada despite him not really giving a shit anymore. He keeps it controlled by carrying contracts out for Doc, which allows him to appease that feeling of needing to kill, while also allowing him downtime to just chill the fuck out. The feeling never really goes away though, it's just always there, even if it's numbed.

Hank doesn't really care about what happens to Nevada, he just wants to dull the drive he has to kill. The fact that there's an entire agency dedicated to stopping him, which means he seemingly has an endless supply of attackers, just works out for him.

Speaking of this, Hank doesn't attack innocents. Or at least, anyone who hasn't already provoked him. Like I said, he's capable of feeling empathy for others, and can even feel remorse, which is why he isn't some mindless spree killer. He only goes for those who directly antagonize him!

Fuck you dude loves Evanescence!!!