#I'm so so sorry these last dozen are taking me so damn long

[omaano]

Another comfy sleepy clone pile ^^

Oh wow, it's been so so many months, I hope you're still around Anon to see this! ❤️

Polyamorous/platonic poses

and the other drawings I’ve made for them

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 4

Here's your next part of the Ghost!Robin fic for WIP Wednesday. I'm gonna start putting fic designation in the title field rather than WIP Wednesday because I think it makes it easier to read.

Also, everyone came out in numbers for last week's segment! Damn! Thank you and I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this little fic of mine. We'll probably get one more week of this before I go back to Bring Me Home, but it'll depend what I feel like. I want to rework some of what I have written next.

First, Previous

1.1k words + a 464 word Omake (cut scene)

----------

Tim asked more details on the specs of the PDA which Danny happily answered. The things he built with Tucker were always his favorite inventions.

“So are you in school to become an engineer or something?” asked Dick who’d gotten Damian calmed down and sitting. The boy had gotten his knife back and was spinning it in his hands. Bruce seemed to be fondly exacerbated by the scene. Robin had pulled out a ghostly weapon and was trying to copy Damian’s movements, though he wasn’t quite as adept.

Danny shook his head to Dick’s question. “Nah. Hard to get into engineering school when you fail high school.” Danny narrowed his eyes as Damian’s mouth opened, but Dick whispered in his ear again and the boy didn’t say anything.

“I ended up dropping out of high school and getting a GED,” said Tim. “It can work just as well.”

Robin was nodding along and pointing at himself, too. Had he died before he could complete his schooling, too?

“I’m sure. It’s just not a priority for me right now. I don’t need one for my job and I can’t become an astronaut because of my accident when I was fourteen.”

Dick was nodding, but Tim looked confused and asked, “Fourteen? I thought you had your accident when you were older?”

“Why would you think that?” Had he or Jazz made any reference to when his accident was? “No, it happened when I was fourteen. A few weeks before I started my freshman year of high school.

Before Tim could ask anything else, Steph called out from the other side of the room. “Did you say you wanted to be an astronaut? Totally awesome. What made you pick that?”

“I honestly don’t know why everyone doesn’t want to be astronauts! Space is so cool. We can learn so much about the universe by studying it in closer detail. And with how many aliens are now living at least part time on Earth, it only makes sense to explore and see what else might be out there.”

Bruce nodded at him. “I am sorry you aren’t able to become one.”

Danny just waved a hand in the air. “I came to terms with it a long time ago. And my current job is fine. Might not be what I would’ve chosen, but I’ve made it work for me.” Deciding he should change the subject before someone had the brilliant idea to ask more about his accident or job, he asked, “So what is for dinner, anyway? You’ve all talked about how amazing the food is, but what are we having?”

Someone tried to speak up, but Jason held up a hand. “I’m the one who helped Alfie cook. Demon-brat is vegetarian so we have a vegetarian curry. If you like meat, there’s a prime rib roast. Then a half dozen different sides—vegetables, rice, potatoes. Huge salad with all the fixings and a dozen different dressings to choose from. And dessert after.”

“Damn, that sounds amazing. I haven’t had a good home cooked meal in ages, so I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Has your Grandpa been keeping you that busy?” asked Jazz.

“That, but also getting things in order to take this evening off. There’s just been a lot. I’m spending the night at yours, by the way.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Danny knew he could rely on Jazz.

“Ooh, do you have any good stories about Jazz as a kid?” asked Jason.

Laughing, Danny said, “So many! But I don’t think we’ll be able to get to those tonight. I’ve a feeling you’ll be interested in other things by that point.” At his words, Robin grinned and pointed at himself. Danny gave him a slight nod to confirm that yes, they’d be talking about him.

Before Jason could ask for clarification, Alfred came in to announce dinner was ready.

Robin cheered and flew over to sit on Alfred’s shoulders, hand extended, to lead the way to the dinning room. Danny couldn’t hold back the chuckle and Jazz shot him a look which he ignored.

“There better be a place setting for you, Alfie!” called Jason as they followed.

“You made your opinion quite clear, Master Jason. And as I wish to meet your young lady and her brother as well, I have set myself a plate at the main table.”

Tim leaned over to whisper to Danny. “Alfred considers his role as butler very important. He rarely eats with the rest of us unless we join him in the kitchen.”

Danny nodded to show he understood, but had no idea how to actually reply to that. It seemed needlessly complicated.

Once they made it to the dining room, Danny grinned as Robin did a flip off of Alfred’s shoulders and landed sitting down on one of the place settings facing the associated chair. He bit his cheek to keep from laughing as Jason sat down at that same place. Jazz took a seat next to him and Danny sat to her other side. Dick ended up sitting next to him.

The scents of all the food wafting off the table made his mouth water and he closed his eyes just to breathe it in. “This smells amazing. Thanks Alfred. And Jason.”

Even Robin had moved to look over every dish, reaching out a hand to try and take something and sighing when he just phased through it.

Even Jazz looked a bit overwhelmed at the quantity of food. “This is so much effort. You didn’t have to do all this just for Danny and me.”

Bruce smiled at her. “It is so rare for all of us to be together for dinner so we make a spectacle of it any time it happens. And this is the first time Jason has ever brought anyone with him which makes it an even bigger event.”

Danny nudged her. “So, Jazz, what’s it like living with someone who can cook?”

Jason laughed. “Jazz isn’t allowed in the kitchen. You know, I caught her grabbing my chef’s knife before going into the fridge the other day!”

Danny furrowed his brow. “Of course she did. It’s a fridge.”

“Wait, is that a family trait? Why do you grab a knife to open the fridge? There’s gotta be a good story behind that.”

Before Danny could make the obvious statement regarding attacking food, Jazz elbowed him. “We’ll tell you later. It has to do with our parents and that’s a large topic and not one we should get into now.”

Before Danny could ask any questions about what the big deal was, Dick nudged him. “Which do you want—curry or beef?”

---------

Omake

Ignoring all of it, Danny shook his head and answered Dick. “Nah. Hard to get into college when you fail high school and are legally dead.”

Multiple people, including Jason, exclaimed at that statement and he looked to Jazz.

“Did Jazz not tell you about that? Our parents swear they saw my ghost and had me declared legally dead. I was missing at the time so the coroner agreed. Sighting the ghost of a missing person is all you need to confirm death in Amity.”

Under her breath, Jazz added, “You were only missing because they had you.”

Danny elbowed her and quietly chirped a Safe now.

Bruce was no longer smiling and was looking at Danny with narrowed eyes. “Your parents had you declared dead.”

“Yeah. It’s fine, though. I’ve an amazing doctor if I get into trouble. My grandfather is watching out for me. I’m financially stable. My partners are able to rent an apartment large enough for all three of us. I have other places to stay when I’m traveling. Honestly, it doesn’t impact my life all that much. Just means I’m not gonna go to college. And only reason I wanted to go to college was to be an astronaut, but my health makes that impossible.”

“Hn…” Bruce hummed.

And Danny had no idea what that meant, but Robin was now laughing, and Dick was exchanging grins with Tim, and Steph and Cass were whispering together. Damian was glaring at him even harder, blade hilt gripped in his hand. These people were strange.

Danny looked over at Jazz who shrugged. Jason was glaring at Bruce and said, “Don’t you dare.”

“Look, it’s really not a big deal. I know it’s kinda a messed up situation, but ghosts are generally treated really well in Amity. As well as any living human, at least. So long as you avoid the Guys in White and my parents that is. So outside of interactions with them, nothing has changed.”

“If you are ever in need of a place to stay or a meal or anything, you’ll have a room here,” offered Bruce.

Robin landed on Danny’s shoulders and was sending out happy-celebrate feelings. Steph handed Cass a few bills. Tim and Dick mimed giving each other fist bumps. Jason put his head in his hands and groaned. Duke was grinning at them all.

Damian half stood and said, “Father—!”

But Dick was at his side and pulling him back down to the couch with an arm around his shoulders, hand over his mouth, and whispering into his ear before he could do more than say the one word.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal.” Trying to think of anyway to change the subject, he asked, “So what’s for dinner, anyway?”

And for the Tag List! (Which absolutely exploded this week. Holy shit.)

----------

Next

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @emeraldcorpral

The celebration post for 100 followers will be going out in another day or two! I've just had a really busy few weeks and didn't do as much writing as I was hoping for. But I hope to finish writing today and then I'll just take a few hours to edit.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Smutty enemies to lovers jethro gibbs mini-series? Maybe the reader is a bit hot-headed herself? :)

Hi hello YES I love this! The fire in this man’s eyes when he gets pissed off gives me chills 🤤 I'm sorry this took me so long to respond to, but I hope you like it!!

I really like the idea of a mini-series, so please let me know what you want to see next 🤩

“We don’t need your interference- sorry, assistance on this case, Tobias.” Gibbs snaps the case file on the desk before him closed and tosses his reading glasses on top before fixing his friend with a sharp look.

“That’s quite the Freudian slip, Jethro,” Fornell grins, approaching Gibbs’ desk with a freshly brewed peace offering. “You know as well as I do that it’s not our decision. Agent Y/L/N will be joining you until this case is closed. Play nice.”

“Y/N? Hell, Tobias, marrying and then divorcing my ex-wife wasn’t cruel enough?”

“Hilarious,” the FBI agent deadpans. “Never gets old, truly.”

“We’ll take literally anyone else from your team.”

“What’s the matter, Gibbs?” Oh, that voice. “Scared you’ll fall head over heels for me? I know you have a thing for redheads.”

He notes your voice growing louder as you near his desk and buries his head back into the case file before retorting, “Weren’t you blonde last time?”

“It’s called hair dye,” you fire back. “Your observational skills are lacking. Getting old will do that to you, huh?”

“No, I just try to avoid looking at you. Can’t do my job if I turn to stone.”

Leaning close to him, you whisper, “So looking at me gets you-”

“Don’t you dare finish that thought,” he snaps, and you grin at having won this round. “Here.” Without looking up, he thrusts the case file into your waiting hands. “Get up to speed on the case and make yourself useful.”

“Like I said,” Fornell groans, “play nice. We don't need extra paperwork because you two can't share a sandbox.”

You dutifully mutter a, “Yes, Boss,” as Gibbs grumbles, “Get the hell outta my building, Tobias.”

“So, old man,” you start with a sigh, perching on the end of his desk. “Where can I sit?”

Gibbs looks up at you, incredulous, and snarks, “Not on my desk.” He nods his head over to the corner spot by McGee and returns to his case file, the conversation seemingly over. You make your way over to the bare bones work station and drop your bag on the seat. Standing on your tiptoes, you lean your chin against your crossed arms on top of the divider and smile at the brunette on the other side of the cubicle. “Hiya, Tim.”

“Hi, Y/N,” he answers as he looks up at you, the faintest hint of pink tinging his cheeks. “It’s nice to have you working a case with us again.”

“You guys just like that Gibbs focuses all of his anger on me, admit it.”

“No, no, we genuinely like- I mean, yes, it’s nice to-”

“Y/L/N!”

Turning your head, you replace your chin with your cheek against your arm and raise an eyebrow. “Gibbs?”

“Stop harassing my agents and do your damn job.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you respond coyly with a grin, moving your bag aside and dropping into the chair to get to work.

The morning passes in a blur, spent reading through the case file and analyzing the several boxes of itemized evidence from the victim’s apartment. After collecting your third cup of coffee in as many hours, you settle down with the dozens of crime scene photos spread out on the desk before you. “Something isn’t right here,” you mumble to yourself, shuffling through the lengthy report to find the sole witness’s statement. You reread the escort's recounting of events, then pick up the photograph mapping out the shooter’s position in relation to the victim. “Son of a bitch,” you breathe out, a smile spreading across your face.

You make your way over to Gibbs’ desk and triumphantly drop the report and picture in front of him. He looks up at you with one eyebrow raised in question, clearly unamused. Planting your hands on your hips, you demand, “How many people did your witness say were in the room?”

“Three. Herself, Lance Corporal Collins, and our perp.”

“And did she have blood on her?”

Gibbs sighs and steeples his fingers together. “What is this, Y/L/N, twenty questions? You read the report.”

“Humor me, old man.”

He glares at you for the moniker, then answers, “No, she didn’t. Claims she was in the bathroom when the shooting occurred, which you already know.”

“So,” you direct his attention to the photograph, tapping on the far wall speckled with blood spatter with one red nail, “who was standing here?”

“Son of a bitch,” Jethro echoes your previous excitement, standing to grab his badge and gun from the top drawer of his desk. Tossing a set of keys to DiNozzo, he calls, “Pull the car around.” The NCIS agent is halfway to the elevator before you catch on to his intentions, and you run after him, slipping your hand between the closing elevator doors at the last second. “And just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re going to question the witness again, right? Well, I made the connection,” you point out confidently, “so I’m going with you.”

“Let me explain something to you, Y/L/N,” he says softly, flipping the emergency stop switch to enter his personal conference room. He takes measured steps toward you in the eerie lighting, crowding into your space as he rests his hands on either side of the railing effectively caging you in. “When you set foot in this building, you’re in my house. You report to me. You follow my rules. You do what I say, when I say it. Am I making myself clear?”

Using the railing as leverage, you push yourself closer to reach his ear and murmur, “Crystal,” reveling in his sharp intake of breath. Raising your leg, you toe the switch back into operational mode before leaning back with a smirk. Fire crackles to life in his gorgeous icy blue eyes at your blatant show of defiance, and you meet his gaze with equal ferocity. “So what would you have me do, sir?”

The elevator reaches the ground floor, and the doors open and then close once more. Gibbs has yet to pull away from you, and his gaze keeps darting down to your crimson-stained lips. “Go back upstairs and help Ziva contact the Lance Corporal’s fellow servicemen on shore leave.”

You feel almost delirious from his sheer proximity, and the way he’s invading your space has your knees nearly buckling beneath you. Rather than admitting to the power he holds over you, you whisper, “What will you do if I don’t listen?”

One hand curls around the back of your neck, the callouses on the pads of his fingers gently pressing into your skin, and you gasp reflexively. “Why do you insist on defying me?”

“Because I like-”

The elevator dings and the two of you hurriedly jump apart, the trance effectively broken. Tony’s smiling face appears on the other side of the doors, car keys in hand. “Is Y/L/N going with us, Boss?”

“No,” Gibbs answers gruffly, jabbing the button for their floor before stepping out of the elevator. You make the journey back upstairs alone with more questions than answers, and more determined than ever to break the resolve of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

—————

Part II

[croconawgaming]

hii i was wondering if u could do how makima is like the control devil and so she always commands ppl but in bed shes begging like i just wanna overstimulate her soososos bad and degrade her and mayb even tie her up with chains

DAMN SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT T~T

MDNI || (Makima x Gn! Reader) ||

TW: over stimulation, crying, slight degrading, Gender neutral character

Also I don't know if you want a story or not so imma just do a story 😗

______________________________________________

Its been weeks since you've held Makima off. Teasing her slowly, seeing her faces every time. You couldn't get enough of how much she begged. It was then near the end of the month and you both were in her bedroom, Makima tied up on her bed with a blindfold on. It was such a sight to see, someone like her-so controlling, someone so straightforward and honest, now all to your control.

"You've been so good, Makima. Lasting this whole month. You're pent up, aren't you? You're already leaking~" You cooed out to her, seeing her squirming around, trying to get a feel of you. "Want me to touch you now?"

"Yes! Mmph...need your touch! Please! Please, please, please! Want it!" Makima begged, legs slightly rising up and presenting her sweet lips. You chuckled slightly and stroked the side of her leg with a finger.

"God you're so pathetic. Getting this jumpy from the start? You've got a trip from here on out then." You say in her ear, your finger fingers up to her jaw and grabbing her face. "I am going to give you all the orgasms I desire. Clear?"

Makima nodded rapidly, loving the way you talk to her. As you take your hand off of her face, you go down her legs, slowly moving along her beautiful folds with your finger. Her twitching and relieved groan was all you needed to hear to let you know how much she needed you. You continue to stroke amongst the folds, her now angelic moans echoing through the room. You inserted your fingers into her, a high pitched growl emitting from Makima. You then licked her thighs, teasing her and making her wait for your tongue to slide across her clit.

"Please, (Y/N)! I can't handle it!" She panted out and kept twitching, her legs kicking on the bed from time to time from the pleasure she's receiving.

"You'll get it soon. Don't worry, babe." You teasingly said as you continued to give her spots around her body, sucking away from her beautiful body. As you continued, she felt your wet tongue start swirling around her soft spot. She cried out your name repeatedly, squeezing her thighs together around your head. Your fingers pumped into her at the pace she always loved, hitting her sensitive spot inside her repeatedly. You felt her climax reaching and you kept the same speed, taking your mouth off of her. "Gonna cum?" She nodded rapidly, panting as she couldn't think straight from the thought of her finally giving you her release.

"Say it." *I said as I slowly stopped pumping my fingers.*

"(Y/N), please make me cum! Give it to me! I want to cum all over your face!" She cried out, her walls clamping onto your fingers desperately. As you smiled, you stuck your fingers out and walked away, sighing through the dozens of 'toys' you two use on each other. As you walked over with a clit vibrator, you turned it on, Makima' face showing you her excitement. She bit her lip and hungrily moaned, trying to move her hips.

You then placed it on her, slowly making circles inside her walls as you rubbed the vibrator on her clit, your arms wrapped around her legs. "(Y/N), I'm cumming! Cumming! Oh!" She then rapidly moaned, her juices quickly coming out at your face. But that didn't stop you from getting your fill, you wanted more from her. You continued to eat her out, your mouth now covered in her juice. She cried out, her eyes now watery from you, her legs giving out.

This night was going to be long for her, the control devil now handing off her crown to you, her little control devil.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Damage Gets Done - SAS: Rogue Heroes x OC - Chapter 10

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | - | Chapter 11

Summary: On a mission to meet with an informant, more of Diana's past is uncovered, and the group's plan is thrown into jeopardy

Relationships: L Detachment x Platonic!OC, eventual Reg Seekings x OC

Warnings: Language, violence, blood/gore

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: @20th-centu-fairy-girl @trenchenjoyer @dcyllom @footprintsinthesxnd @regseekings

A/N: I'm SOOOOO SORRY for the hiatus this fic has been on for the last couple months - I was struggling with writer's block for a while and then other fics sort of took over my life, but I'm really glad to be back writing this again. Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck around, I really appreciate your patience <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

She could taste the sea air on her tongue, feel the salt spray turning her hair sticky as they pulled up along the beachfront of the small, coastal town, barely fifty miles away from Benghazi. On a routine intelligence mission, Stirling had sent their small group - Diana, Seekings, Kershaw and Cooper - to get in, find their informant, exchange information, and get out. It was nothing, not for the four of them, who had all performed dozens of missions ten times more dangerous than this. It was practically a day off.

For an occupied town, the military presence was scarcely noticeable save for the occasional soldier smoking outside a cafe. The citizens seemed almost unaware that there was even a war on, visiting shops and taking their children to the beach as if all was normal, nothing like the tension that had hung thick in the air at Benghazi.

Their uniforms had long since been discarded, the men dressed in civilian clothing, a jarring sight after so many months in their company. Diana's curls erupted outwards from beneath the brim of her sunhat, tinted glasses shielding her from the sun's glare reflecting against the waves.

"Remind me who we're looking for again," She uttered under her breath, hands resting loosely in her pockets. Everyone in this town looked the same, and without a photo to work from, finding their informant seemed nearly impossible.

"Stirling says we'll know it when we see it," Cooper drawled, practically rolling his eyes from boredom. He'd been a strange choice for a mission like this - the absence of violence made him twitchy.

"Oh, wonderful, very helpful," Diana huffed, fiddling with the watch around her wrist. They were exposed out here, the four of them wandering the streets in a neat little row without any clear direction or purpose to guide them. It was clear they had no idea where they were going, and sooner or later someone would notice. If only Stirling had let her come alone-

Diana stopped.

She knew that face. And she knew he wasn't meant to be here. Which could only mean one thing. Stepping back on her heel, she began a retreat, much to the confusion of her companions, who watched her turn with furrowed brows.

"That one over there, sitting at the table by the door," Diana nodded, the others following her gaze. "I'll just wait in the car, I'll see you later."

Before she could walk away, Seekings' hand found her arm, seizing her gently, but with just enough force to root her to the spot. She glanced up at him, rolling her eyes to hide the tension that had overtaken her.

"What's goin' on?" He asked, voice hushed. "You've gotta come, you're the only one who can read the bloody thing."

He was right. The files they'd been sent to retrieve were written in Arabic - she was the only one who could confirm its legitimacy. Damn, Stirling. There was no doubt in her mind he'd had a hand in this. Their informant had looked up from his newspaper, meeting her eye from across the street, the colour draining from his cheeks.

"Stirling's a fucking bastard," Diana muttered, roughly shrugging Reg's hand away and storming over, taking a seat at the table opposite the man. He was staring at her, mouth slightly agape, barely even noticing the other men as they approached and took their seats, exchanging wary glances.

"Afternoon, Andrew."

He folded his newspaper away, a stray golden curl falling into his face. "Diana. Long time no see."

Kershaw's brow arched in question, his gaze flitting slowly between the pair. "Right... who's this?"

The informant stretched his arm out across the table, reaching for a polite handshake. "Andrew Schulz," He introduced himself, German surname inducing an instinctive bristle among the men. Reg hadn't stopped glaring at the man since the moment they'd sat down, and Cooper had to elbow him hard in the side to snap him out of it.

"We used to be engaged," Diana stated nonchalantly. Johnny had reached for the cup of coffee on the table, pilfering a sip, and Dave had landed a hard slap between his shoulder blades to stop him from choking at this revelation.

"You were gonna marry a German?" Cooper asked, boyish eyes wide in horror. Seekings's entire face had turned two shades redder.

"Yeah, until he developed an affinity for the Third Reich."

"I think the fact we're sitting here would indicate I wasn't exactly genuine in my regard for the Nazi party," Schulz hissed, voice lowered to avoid attracting attention. His English was fluent, albeit tinged with a German accent. Everything about the man screamed wealth - the perfect state of his hair, the neat knot of his tie, the pristine skin of his hands - he bore the look of a man who'd never worked a real day in his life. Even on her best day, Diana wasn't as polished as him. Sitting opposite each other now, Reg found it impossible to picture the pair ever having any sort of regard for each other. Or perhaps he just didn't want to.

"Just gimme the file so I can leave," She huffed.

"No. You've got to sit here long enough that it doesn't look suspicious. We're meeting for drinks, nothing more."

Diana's jaw clenched, staring anywhere but at the man across from her. Dave had begun to fear she was going to make a break for it when she sucked in a sharp breath, reaching for a cigarette. "At least tell me where it is."

"In the bag next to my seat."

"Fine," She shrugged.

An almost unbearable silence hung upon them for a moment, the three SAS men sucking their cheeks for something to say as she puffed cloud after cloud of smoke, seemingly revelling in Andrew's discomfort.

After a few minutes of skin-crawling quiet, Reg cleared his throat. "Oi, Di, d'you want to go get drinks?" She was up before he'd even finished the sentence, the pair of them scurrying inside the cafe. At least with half of the bitter couple gone, Kershaw and Cooper could carry some semblance of conversation.

He frowned at her as they entered the cafe - if she clenched her jaw any harder, he reckoned her teeth might shatter. The woman behind the counter glanced up at them with a smile, and it was as if a switch flicked within Diana, the tension sapped from her body, a pleasant smile curling her lip. She ordered quickly and politely, conversing in Arabic so that Reg simply had to hope she'd ordered his coffee how he liked it. As soon as the exchange was over, she stepped silently to the side to await their order, tugging at the cuffs of her shirtsleeves agitatedly.

Reg had never known her to be like this - on edge, certainly, but not fucking quiet. She was dynamite with a pretty smile, and no man made her nervous. Perhaps he had despised Andrew Schulz from the moment he'd sat down, but his impression certainly wasn't getting any better.

"So are you gonna... talk about it?" He prompted, voice kept low beneath the hum of patrons' conversation.

Diana turned her head to him, brow raised. "You, Reg, want to talk about... feelings."

Passing his weight between the balls of his feet, Reg cleared his throat slightly. "Uh. Yeah. I guess."

She hummed, disbelief evident in her expression. "Right. Well, there's not exactly much to tell - I was a socially isolated teenager, and he was handsome and rich. There wasn't much to it."

He nodded along as she spoke, keeping his clenched fists in his pockets and out of sight. "... Right. So you don't still-"

"No," Diana snapped, a little faster than he was perhaps comfortable with. "God, no. I haven't seen him in years, and it's not exactly like I've been sitting around with a lack of something to do."

Reg took a sliver of satisfaction in this - in the idea that what the SAS did had successfully replaced any presence this man had had in her life. "... He's a bit of a prick, isn't he?"

"He's absolutely a prick," She had clearly been resistant to talk about Andrew at first, but the more she spoke the more energised she became by it. "Y'know, he joined up in '38, before the war even started. Yunno who does that? Freaks and fanatics."

"Cunt."

"Exactly," Diana nodded firmly, bouncing slightly on her heels. It had clearly been a long time since she'd vented these frustrations to another soul. "But no, apparently I should've just fucking predicted the fucking future and guessed he would've turned out to be a you know what."

"Unreasonable."

"Unreasonable."

By the time their order was finished, the waitress passing a tray of coffee cups across the counter, she was practically red in the face, a different kind of tension taking over. Diana no longer looked like she was considering hurling herself into the harbour to avoid talking to Shulz - she looked like she wanted to drown him in it instead.

Kershaw noticed the moment she stepped outside, looking up with a cautious frown as she put the tray down at their table, taking her seat with an elegant rigidity. Reg raised a brow at him as he came to sit down, accepting his coffee with a nod. She had gotten his order right.

Lifting her cup to her lips, Diana took a long sip of the still-burning liquid, her gaze never leaving the German officer sitting across from her.

"Alright. New plan," She stated as soon as the silence had lingered just long enough to make Andrew squirm.

"Oh?" He enquired, a hint of condescension in his tone that made Reg's knuckles whiten.

"I'm gonna drink half of this. Then I'm gonna pick a fight. When I do, you boys back off and get the car - swing 'round back and I'll meet you there."

"What do you expect that plan to do?" Shulz scoffed.

"I expect it to work."

Lips pursed, the German swallowed hard, staring as if the mere act of glaring at Diana could make her go away. "You always were reckless."

"Ah, ah," She tutted. "I said I'm drinking my coffee first."

Johnny snorted, unable to wipe the childish smirk from his cheeks as he watched the pair dart back and forth. Glancing at the three SAS men at the end of the table, Andrew seemed to be fighting the redness flooding his face. This was a man unused to being laughed at. Diana's head lolled to the side, flashing Johnny a grin, a melodious laugh escaping her throat at the hostility that seemed to envelop the group.

"So," Schulz began. "How's... Jasmine?"

"Jaspreet is fine. Dave fancies her."

Kershaw looked up from his coffee with a start, almost choking on it. "Wha'? No, I don't."

"You do a bit."

Dave considered this for a moment. He shrugged. Johnny chuckled - he had seemingly revelled in every moment of uncomfortable awkwardness since the second he'd sat down.

Diana stared down at her drink. It was more than half empty already - how had she drank it so fast? She realised the tip of her tongue had turned numb, tastebuds tingling painfully from the heat that she'd been too busy antagonising to notice. Stray coffee grounds were already sticking to the porcelain, the bottom of the mug in sight. But for a moment she almost didn't want to fight. Why did everything always have to be such a bloody fight? Fuck this mission, and Fuck Stirling for sending this man back to her, for reminding her of the time she'd spent living under his boot, even if he'd never realised it was on her neck.

She bolted to her feet without bothering to move her chair, the whole table rocking to the side with the force of her body, the remains of Andrew's tea sloshing over the rim and into his lap as the cup clattered sideways against its saucer. Letting out a yelp at the sudden heat, he too leapt to stand, hands help up in irritation, redness flooding his face. Reg caught her eye. She nodded - such a minuscule movement that anyone not looking for it would have been none-the-wiser. But they were looking. Her comrades in arms were up and gone before Schulz could even stammer a word, retracing their steps towards where they'd left their car further along the seafront.

"What the fuck?!" Andrew hissed, a dark stain spread across the lap of his uniform trousers.

"You know her name's Jaspreet you fucking prick," Diana spat, teeth gritted. "She was my only fucking friend, I know you remember."

"Do you really think I think of you that often to remember your fucking friends?!"

The cafe's other patrons had begun to stare, sitting in awkward silence as they found themselves suddenly unable to avoid the row.

"Oh, you practically begged me to marry you, and you expect me to believe you don't think about me?"

"You always did think you were the absolute shit, didn't you Diana? You were an egotistical bitch when I met you and you're still one now."

"What I was when I met you was seventeen-fucking-years-old. You were twenty-five, you don't get to stand here and make out like you were some kind of victim in this scenario!"

Diana bent down, snatching the bag beside Andrew's seat like an enraged spouse grabbing for her purse, tucking it and its contents tightly under her arm. She hadn't heard the hum of their car's engine yet - it was time to start stalling.

"And you know why this never would've worked out, Andrew? It wasn't because I was young and naive, and it wasn't because you decided to become a bloody fascist - it's because you knew what Hannigan was turning me into and you did nothing."

Schulz had opened his mouth to yell out a reply, but her jab had caught him off guard, jaw snapping shut before the words could reach his tongue. She sucked in a long, deep breath, somewhat surprised herself. She hadn't expected to say that.

"Andrew?" An unfamiliar voice sounded behind her, his accent running thick and distinctly German. Diana didn't tear her eyes from Schulz for a moment, watching the way the colour suddenly drained from his face as the man approached.

The uniformed officer stepped between them, brow furrowed as his gaze flicked between Andrew and Diana, assessing the scene.

"Paul!" Andrew cried, forcing a friendly demeanour as he held out a hand for the other man to shake, which he accepted somewhat hesitantly.

"Is everything alright, my friend?"

"Uh, yes, of course," He nodded, stepping closer towards her. "This is... Juliet. We were just-"

"-He cancelled our date tomorrow night," Diana interjected, the lie spilling out before it had even taken proper shape in her mind. "I... overreacted."

Paul nodded slowly, continuing to look back and forth between the pair. There was something keen and discerning in his gaze, as if he could see her bones straight through her skin. Diana almost squirmed. They were treading a fragile line now. She eyed the gun on his belt - how fast could she reach it if needed?

"You should count yourself lucky for having such a beautiful woman," Paul chastised lightly, nodding towards her. Her grip on the bag tightened.

"Oh, I do," Andrew nodded. "It's just this job, you know? Always busy."

A flicker of confusion crossed Paul's face, and he began to frown. "... Tomorrow night?"

"...Yes."

"...There's nothing happening tomorrow night, my friend."

His gaze darted towards Diana, staring at her hand, knuckles whitening under the force with which she gripped the bag.

"Breathe, Diana," She could hear her father's voice echoing in her mind. "The moment you give in to fear is the moment you lose."

But he had never trained her for this. Damn him.

"I have to go," She blurted. "You should catch up with your friend, Andrew. Call me later."

Before he could speak she began to walk away, sucking in a long, quiet breath as she tried to soothe the ache in her lungs. The car had to be close - just around this corner and she was free.

"No, wait - Diana - " Schulz called. The moment her name slipped from between his lips he froze, and without even looking she could picture the stricken look that must have been contorting his features. She stopped, turning back towards the men.

Fucking incompetent bastard.

"...Diana?" Paul asked, and it was as if she could see the gears turning in his mind, piecing everything together. In an instant, his hand reached for his belt, wrapping around the grip of his pistol.

Time seemed to slip by in slow motion. He was raising to shoot her as she pushed off with the ball of her foot, darting towards him, speed the only possible thing that would keep her alive in that moment.

Until it wasn't.

Schulz seized Paul's arm before he could pull the trigger, jolting him sideways as a terrible bang sounded, the nearby patrons scattering for safety.

For a split second everything was silent, until a gurgled cough escaped Andrew's throat, his knees going slack beneath him, blood blooming against the fabric of his shirt just below the waist.

Paul's jaw hung slack with shock, staring down at his friend, chest heaving as he fought for breath. But he hesitated too long. Diana leapt forward, seizing the pistol in his hand and twisting downwards, feeling the bones in his trigger finger crack as a cry of anguish escaped him.

She had put a bullet in his neck before he even had time to process what was happening.

The two men lay side by side on the pavement, Paul's eyes glazed over and staring blankly up at the sky, blood pooling around his head. Andrew was on his stomach, laying on his hand as he kept it firmly pressed against the wound, fighting for each breath, eyes wide with shock as he stared across at the man beside him.

For a moment, Diana just watched, the gun still gripped in one hand, the bag with its files held tight in the other. She could just leave him here. She could let him bleed out, and die in the uniform of a regime he'd never actually believed in. Perhaps it would be for the best - it was safer to die here, to let the blame fall on the enemy, than to survive as a traitor, his betrayal like a target on his back until the day this war was over.

She could do it. She knew she had it in her - and really, that was the only thing about this prospect that frightened her. He hadn't been the first person to break her heart. But he was the only one she could punish for it.

"Come on," Diana breathed, stuffing the gun into her bag as she crouched beside him, lifting his free arm to wrap it around the back of her neck, grimacing as Andrew let out a yelp of agony at the sudden movement. "Get up," She spoke through gritted teeth, tone entirely void of sympathy.

He was panting heavily, blood seeping through the gaps between his fingers as he forced his feet beneath him, turning his face up towards the sun as he pushed with any strength that remained to him. With a shared grunt, the pair hauled him upright, dragging him to stand. Diana's heart was pounding out of her chest - they had to leave now, or they were both dead.

Every few steps, Andrew's feet began to drag, his strength coming in short, weak bursts, never enough to propel him more than a few metres. He was too much taller than her, their stance too awkward for her to properly support him when his knees gave way, groaning as his sudden weight pulled her downwards every few seconds.

"Get it together, you fucking imbecile," She hissed, frustrated more by the desperation of their situation than at the man himself. "I'm not dying for you."

Andrew almost chuckled, letting out another gasp as a jolt of anguish shot through him. "You're not the person he tried to turn you into... You're not a monster," He breathed, voice barely able to rise above a whisper as they turned down the alley running alongside the cafe, hopefully leading them straight to the car.

"You should see how I spend my evenings," Diana joked, a sliver of teeth visible as she cracked a faint grin.

"If I survive this... you've gotta tell me... what the hell are you doing out here with them?"

"Deal," She grunted. Limping their way around the corner, it was as if a ten-ton weight was hauled off of her shoulders as the car suddenly came into view, catching Johnny's eye in the rearview mirror. Her heart was pounding so hard she could scarcely hear anything else as she dragged Andrew the last few metres, Kershaw leaping out to open the door for them, strewing his body across the backseat.

"What the fuck happened?!" Dave cried, looking over at her with a stricken expression. As Diana looked down at herself, she realised her hands were stained with blood, dark red smears streaked across her blouse. She couldn't even remember when it had happened.

"Just get in the car and fucking drive," She barked, attempting to keep her voice as level as possible as she climbed in, Andrew's head and shoulders forced to rest in her lap, his legs stretched across Kershaw so that they could all fit inside.

Johnny was at the wheel - just quite why, she had no idea - but he turned to look at the scene in the back seat, wide-eyed and hardly moving. "Where do we go? What do we do with him?"

"Just fucking go, Johnny!" Diana yelled, her fringe slick with sweat and plastered to her forehead.

As the engine roared to life, she stared down at Schulz, writhing in agony against her, eyes screwed tightly shut as blood continued to seep from between his fingers, and for a second she had to fight the urge to gag. It was nowhere near the worst thing she'd seen - it wasn't even the worst thing she'd been responsible for. But this was different. Diana felt the warmth of blood against her hands, and when she closed her eyes the darkness took her back to the night of her first jump, dragging Eoin McGonigal's corpse across the dunes without any ending in sight.

If Andrew died here, now, where could she take him? Would she bury him out in the sand like she had Eoin? It was a hero's burial for bastards like them - maybe he'd like it that way.

As they pulled out of town, he vomited a mouthful of blood over the backseat.

[sunwarmed-ash]

I love you, friend! 💕

A couple of my headcanons for your amusement:

1) Connor likes to spend his free time playing video games (esp. farming sims) because they trigger the Mission Successful reward system in his brain

2) Gavin has quite the collection of fantasy dildos 😈

first off i love BOTH OF THESE. Very canon to me imo, I wrote the second one first, I hope you enjoy!

*NSFW warning*

Secret Box

This thing, between the three of them, that started small and innocently enough, turned into something so much bigger, stronger, and honestly sexier than any of them initially intended. So much so they closed on a three bedroom house last week and Hank, Sumo, Connor, and Gavin are moving in together. 

But moving is also greuling, at least to the two humans who complained about aches and pains every free moment they could. It's why Connor offered to bring everything in in the first place. Connor would not get tired. He was specifically designed for advanced stamina. But Hank and Gavin were two of the most prideful and stubborn men Connor has ever met. 

It took them a while to agree, but after Hank’s back popped in a way that was more bad than good, he threw the white flag and thanked Connor for his help before going to pass out on the couch. 

Gavin lasted a little longer, but once he and Connor carried their king sized mattress up two flights of stairs, he threw the flag too.  

There aren't too many more boxes, under half a dozen, and most of them headed for the same floor. He should be done and ready to lay down with his exhausted humans in about 15 minutes. 

Connor moves another large wardrobe box containing some of Hank’s old suits exposing a time faded blue, 15x15x10 box that he doesn't remember packing on the truck. Or seeing before honestly. 

Written all across the slightly yellowing cardboard is handwriting that matches Gavin’s, the words, 

DO NOT OPEN UNLESS YOU ARE GAVIN

I MEAN IT DICKHEADS

MY STUFF, HANDS OFF! *

Over almost every surface. 

A padlock opened in Connors vision and a prompt to 

Open the box? 

Had him biting into his lip so hard it bled, in strain to do the right thing. 

Because, well it's not his stuff. It’s very obviously Gavin’s. But whatever is in there, it's obvious he wants to keep it a secret. Under plenty of warfare in fact. 

What's the phrase Hank always says to him, curiosity killed the cat? 

Well, Connor isn't a cat, he’s an android. But he’s also not an idiot. He won’t open it down here, in plain view of everything and everyone. He will take it upstairs, into their shared master bedroom and open it there. 

~

Connor hasn't felt a choice impact him this strongly since he deviated. It's weird. It's just a box, he shouldn't be afraid of the damn thing. But it wasn't necessarily the box that was scary. It was the potential of everything that could be in there. 

What could be in there that Gavin didn't want Hank and him to see?

Maybe it was something super rare. Like the world's only albino guinea pig. 

Or maybe Gavin’s a master jewel thief and it's full of diamonds… 

Or maybe Gavin’s a deranged maniac who keeps his victims severed heads in a box!

Or worse….

What if its an embarassing snapshot of Connor from the DPD Christmas party?!??!

His fans whirring in his obvious anxiety attack has him shaking his head and clearing all of the ridiculous thoughts he just had. It’s just a box. And he knows Gavin better than he knows most people in the world after nearly 2 years. 

But once he opens the lid of the long traveled box, he instantly wished he hadn’t. 

Mostly, because in that moment, someone had come into the room behind him, exposing his crime. And even worse, that person was Gavin. 

“Hey! What are you doing!”

“I'm sorry!!” Connor panics, slapping the lid back onto the box so hard its sides folded under his force. He didn't even get a chance to look at everything inside, he was too scared of Gavin’s much deserved, wrath. 

“Ey, easy!! Those aren't cheap you know!” Gavin says, genuine worry in his tone and Connor’s hands pulls off the box and steps back. 

Hank and Sumo are on Gavin’s heels, barging sleepily into the room to add to his humiliation. 

“What’s- oh shit. Ha! I see you found Gavin’s collection.”

Connor and Gavin’s cheeks boths flushed in embarrassment.

“Hank!” Gavin scolds at the same time Connor asks, 

“What are they?”

“What do you mean what are they? They’re fucking dildos” Gavin says hotly, temperature matching the blood boiling under his cheeks. 

Connor looks at the box with the busted lid again, though he doesn't need to. He has the video feed already saved, he can bring up every inch of his first glimpse in high graphic detail. 

“But, they don’t, look like our other ones,” Connor says carefully, reading Gavins stress levels and adjusting his particular phrasing. 

“Cuz they’re not modeled after human dicks,” Gavin says again, and Connor thinks about the one on top. The one that didn't look like a dick at all. More like a tongue, easily as long as Hank’s cock but curved and shaped drastically different. 

“And that feels good?” there wasn't any judgment in Connor’s voice, just genuine curiosity. He thinks that's what really gives him the upper hand and reduces some of Gavin’s stress. 

“It feels phcking incredible. All of them do.”

“Some of those are big Gavin.”

“I’m well aware.”

Connor’s eyes glazed over, imagining Hank using any of them on Gavin, or vice versa. It was enough motivation for Connor to then ask, with the biggest, softest eyes he can, if he can fuck Gavin with one. 

~

Gavin’s knees shake as he struggles to take the ninth irregularly bulging inch, but he begged for it deeper, his cock still stiff and spitting fluid all down the shaft.

“Phck,” he can’t keep the pant back as much as he wants to. It hurts, but in the way he loves, and the fact that Hank and Connor are both so obviously getting off to it only adds to it. 

“You’re doing so good Gavin,” Hank praises, and Gavin feels more fluid fall off the tip of his cock onto their mattress below. He felt like he was about to lose his mind, so he’s glad at least it looks more polished than he feels. 

“Con, don’t stop, please.” 

Connor’s hand squeezes his hip before twisting the bulging dildo in his ass. 

The pleasure that rocketed through Gavin’s body at that particular action knocks out his knees and Gavin is barely holding his face off the mattress by his elbows. “Oh my god.”

“It’s actually Connor, but I appreciate the compliment,” the robot sasses and if Gavin wasn’t so desprate for an orgasm, he might have shot something back. Instead he shuddered, and pulled his tired legs back to their original position. It lined one of the bumps of the dildo up with his prostate and Gavin was putty in Connor’s hands. 

“Are you gonna cum?” Hank asks, sitting on the bed beside him, running his warm hand across Gavin's face to get the sweat out of his eyes. 

Gavin nods in Hank’s hand, and then Connor’s thrusts becomes relentless. It doesn't take much at all, and then Gavin is screaming through a painfully strong orgasm. 

~

AN: I'm sorry for the minor crack, but I just had to with the spongebob reference. It really wrote itself. You can blame Daddy Clancy for the melding of fandoms in my brain. 

As for the sex toys, use your imagination or alt the links I got the inspo from 1. 2.

* do I have a box just like this? Wouldn't you like to know weather boy.

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls: Season 2, Episode 21, Lorelai's Graduation Day, Part 6

I may be something of a rank amateur as far as how many times I've watched Gilmore Girls (2 times through seasons 1-7, currently in the middle of my 2nd run of seasons 1-4 only) while some people have seen it dozens of times (how do you do it, I'm in awe of you, I love this show but it drains my life force). I may be a walking encylopedia of stupid knowledge about Luke and Jess (like how Luke actually serves Folgers coffee and Apartment Jess in season 4 has a Recycling On Tuesday sticky note on his fridge) but I've had to look up basic-bitch things about Rory and Lorelai like why there is so much bootleg merchandise that says "Copper Boom". My point is that with every viewing, I learn a lot. Right now I'm learning that my memory is a shady bitch. She's been tricking me into thinking many of the episodes I remembered as hunky dory "Comfort episodes" from beginning to end were not. The reality is this: the beginning of many episodes are innocent enough, the "favorite/comfort" is actually just some small portion in the middle, and the last 10-15 minutes are a shit tornado of epic proportions and almost without exception due to Lorelai and/or Dean’s fuckery (example: There's the Rub). MY POINT IS, I do have a vague memory of how this episode ends and I anticipate that while it won't be the worst Last 15 Minutes Shit Tornado I'm hoping it won't wash the sweet sweet taste of Literati StepCousin Wiener Tasting In The City out of my mouth right quick. EDIT after finishing the episode: It was not rage-inducing at all. It was fine. Lorelai barely even talked because Rory wouldn't let her get a word in edgewise. It was just ridiculous and went on too long. Read more at the end of the post. Due to it's lack of fuckery, one minute each of Dean and Christopher, and Lorelai's lack of interference, StepCousins In The City can hold it's trophy aloft and retain its standing as my favorite Gilmore Girls episode of all time.

That was pointless and disgusting and it goes on through the entire graduation. And yeah, that's the dude who voices all the characters on Family Guy, Seth MacFarlane. Pretty much just playing one of his characters. With his Brian Griffin voice which is really just his normal voice. Charming. Did you know Family Guy was one the first shows to be revived after it was canceled due to overwhelming demand from fans? The Network was like "if it'll shut ya'll up we'll bring the damn thing back." I was a biiiiiig Family Guy fan in the early 2000's, spent countless hours on FG message boards and added my momentum to the campaign. The network listened. They bought it back. It was horrible. I never watched it again. AHEM.

Thanks a lot, Family Guy. And I’m sorry that I took part in the first successful revival campaign for a canceled tv show. I could not know the domino effect it would have. Alright, my memory is failing me again. I cannot for the life of me recall how Rory ends up missing Lorelai's graduation. I don't think she got on the wrong bus (Jess would never let her). Does the bus break down? Oh, how I love playing Memory Roulette.

So there's one single road leading out of New York City into all surrounding states, and a single accident will prevent “all” busses from leaving the state? Thousands of people are being held hostage over one car crash? That won’t be pretty. I feel like her best option would be to take the train. A taxi would be too expensive, but Jess knows how to drive, so maybe Liz has a car. Steal her car. I just feel like there are alternatives than being held hostage in a stinky bus. Back at the graduation, Family Guy and his girlfriend continue yelling at each other to shut up and die and then they bully Lorelai for having wealthy parents. This is community college. I am an alumni of a county college myself. Many classes would be half empty by the end of the semester as people constantly dropped out (especially night classes). There were some bumps in the road so it took me 3 years to get my 2 year Associates degree, and I was proud of myself for finishing. I didn't pursue any more education after that; but the graduation ceremony was small because most people were transferring to a four year school and they didn't see the point, I guess, of bothering with a graduation ceremony halfway into their college career. Nobody lived at school so your personal connections to your classmates were loose at best. My point is no college adult would ever give a damn about some total stranger's parents to the point they're going to openly bully them AND their friends. I just wanted to graduate and be done with school forever. We’re adults, we all wanna go home. Family Guy is picking on Sookie and Jackson for their "expensive" clothes now. Joke's on you Family Guy, Lorelai runs the Independence Inn where all three of them are employed and she pays them both in beans.

This is what I say any time someone compliments my outfit. Lorelai's face is priceless.

Sometimes this show makes me feel old. This time, I feel young. Because I'm nearly 40, and still too young to know squat about pagers. I grew up in the same Gilmore Girls timeline where certain people (but not everyone) had primitive cellphones, but I don't remember anyone with a pager. I wasn't aware that pagers could get any sort of texts that communicated "I'm running late." . So I had to jump down another GoogleHole . The answer is yes, they were capable of sending and recieving alphanumeric messages, and since the mid 90's, to boot.

Ahhh, love to see her amongst the commoners.

She misses her cousin, okay? You don't have to remind her. Please do not talk to unaccompanied teenage girls on public transportation and tell them to smile, you pervert. He informs Rory that she got on a Local bus, which is why it's taking so long and making a lot of stops, while the bus she took into the city was an Express that doesn't make stops. Okay, you know what, I actually blame Jess for this. I literally just said "Jess would never let Rory get on the wrong bus." And what did he do? Screwed his cousin. Figuratively. It's not the wrong route, but given that he's aware she needed to be home on time to see Lorelai’s graduation, how important it was to Rory, and with him knowing that little miss "can I eat a hot dog on the subway" was under his supervision as a born and bred New Yorker to get on the correct bus to get home in time, well Jess, you fucked up. Jess Mariano's second fuck up is that Rory clearly has some way of communicating with Lorelai, and if Little Mister Walmart had a cellphone, she could have disembarked the bus, called or messaged him, and he could have directed her to the right bus or given her advice on alternate modes of transportation.

You should have, but it's still your cousin's fault. You're making lengthy conversation with strange men on the bus. You're too naive. You can't be trusted in a big city by yourself. She also listed two scenarios where if this were only a couple of years later, having a smartphone to check traffic and schedules would have changed the entire course of the episode. Because We're still on season 2, where you can't show someone drinking a beer and Rory goes to house parties thrown by popular kids where they only drink "imported sodas", this guy is using his beer can for his spit and not to drink. At least by the end of season 3 (KegMax) beer is finally a thing which exists and that wayward youth are seen indulging in.

Family Guy continues to bully Lorelai for being "rich" even moments before she gets her degree. This isn't funny and is in fact quite nauseating and awful.

Yayy. We spot Emily holding back tears during Lorelai's graduation, but afterwards she can only a muster up this ol chestnut: "Congratulations. Hope Raul got some pictures. Welp see ya tomorrow, we gotta go." Okay, okay, this is the worst graduation in history. Mr and Mrs Asshole Family Guy bully you the entire time, your daughter doesn't show up because she's dilly dallying all over New York City shoving wieners in her mouth with your punk future-nephew, you didn't want your parents to show up in the first place because you feel like you'd only disappoint them, but they show up anyway because their grand daughter went behind your back to invite them, then they make a spectacle only to tell you "congratulations" and then try to leave. And to break Lorelai's heart even further, in a few moments she'll find out that Dean Forrester's on his way to being moldy old Wonderbread to Rory and Jess is...the new fancy organic expensive bread from the good supermarket outside of Stars Hollow. Look, she's due for some pretty bad karma but maybe this is a skosh too much at once.

Put it towards therapy.

Certainly not stuck on the wrong bus because her chaperone couldn't be trusted.

Oh Rory you're SO BONED.

Back at home... L: Whatever kept you, whatever you were doing you should have gotten out of it just this once. Was it school? Was it Paris? Oh boy Lorelai I hope you're ready for a real doozy. Anyway, we're finally down to the last four minutes of the episode which is the entire length of Rory's rambling, over the top groveling/ apology.

Hey, that might be enough time to get Dean off your back. Tell her you went to see Jess. DO IT.

"After he called me last night, that phone call... it DID SOMETHING TO ME. I'm ill! I'm sick!" Girl, I feel you. I get it. I get it. Come here. Give me a hug. Rory's groveling is so desperate and pitiful that Lorelai looks utterly reasonable. She is just standing there shaking her head, because let's face it, she's already had one hell of a night so what's one more cherry on top of the shit sundae that was her graduation?

How could I resist? "I can't believe Icut school when finals are coming up to go see a guy who isn't my guy and end up missing my mother's graduation!" But you did it, you were brave, you followed your dear little heart, and I'm proud of you. And the groveling goes on on and on...the stinky bus...the guy with the spit can...she's so sorry...please ground her and make her wash the dishes for a year...she's so sorry...she's stupid and dumb and "girly" for being so impulsive...this isn't her...what a dumb selfish stupid non thinking freak she is...

Uh…

L: "Maybe you don't have a medical condition or a mental problem, maybe you're just falling for Jess." I love Jess, but making the decision to get involved with him DOES involve some level of mental problems, it's pretty much a requirement. The same goes for Rory, who is also deeply fucked up but just better at concealing it. Star crossed lovers, bound by fate, dirty hot dogs, the stars above, the marriage of his uncle to her mother, and loads of familial trauma. Rory-O and Jess-Iet.

Rory, you're a terrible liar. Work on that.

That's it! FOREVER! She adds. Said every 17 year old about some asshole pig boy they dated in high school. It's gonna last forever, Mom! But with the way he weaves in and out of her life for over five years, this is sadly closer to accurate than I like to think about. If Lorelai had a crystal ball or called Miss Cleo she could see into the future and rest easy knowing Jess and Rory only date for like 7 months. But she'd also find out she was going to marry into Jess' family and she would have to see Jess for the rest of her natural life and he would call her Aunt Lorelai at every chance he got just to get under her skin. The universe has a way of evening these things out.

Rory keeps up the pathetically transparent "I love Dean! Dean Dean Dean! Jess is gone. Evaporated. Jess? Jess who? I'm not in love with my cousin!" charade but Lorelai isn't buying it. Ladies and gentlemen, she's still going. And now she has a list. While she was on the Stinky Bus she wrote a list of all the ways she's going to make up for her transgression. She is now going to read the items on the list to Lorelai. One by one. This is surely not the most insufferable ending in gilmore girls history but it's one of those scenes that could have been cut down to half the time. Four minutes of Rory's incessant groveling felt like 30 minutes. Lorelai just looks at Rory as she goes off the deep end, not angry at her but sympathetic and bewildered as her daughter begs to be beaten and suffocated. Oh, and Rory left the Go Go's record she bought for Lorelai on the bus. The end.

[daddysfangirls-dc]

UnTamed Ch.20 -Interlude

Prev | Next

Damian Wayne x OC!Female

It was as if Asta had forgotten how well Damian could read her. She stood simply unbothered as Tim talked about the gag gift he had gotten for Bruce, something to make fun of his age but still thoughtful enough to be considered a gift.  On the surface, she appeared unbothered, laughing along with Tim about the gift, but Damian could see that she was anxious and saddened. He, however, didn't know why.

 "It is a decent Gift, Tim"

"Decent? It's hilarious." Tim says as he continues to wrap the gift 

"Your Gray Ghost memorabilia was more thoughtful." 

"Jason's Idea. I just chipped in and wrapped it." 

"We'll take our leave. I'll inform the other to stay out."

"Dont. Dick will come running in like a sneaky kid." Tim said," I'd rather not fend off a grown man like a toddler."

Asta laughed at that. Despite being the oldest, Dick often acted like the youngest of Bruce's kids. As endearing as it was, it was also annoying. 

"You're anxious," Damian said as they stepped out of the library, leaving Tim. " Care to tell me why?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to project-"

"You aren't, but I can still see it on your face, body, and silences." He takes her hand in his, squeezing it gently." You're unwell."

"You all do a lot of gifts. I swear I counted two dozen under your tree already, and you plan to put more down there." 

They strolled down the hall, stopping in front of a bay window. "Well, there are many of us and the things under the tree that aren't just random. Some of it is things we need, like new gear and weapons that we haven't gotten for ourselves yet. Also, Father likes to overcompensate for all his wrongdoings throughout the year. What is a gift if not to show how much one cares and pays attention? The perfect gift."

Damian smiles as he remembers his father standing at the door, trying to get all the packages before any of his children. And his secret trips to the stores. He'd be damn if the paparazzi spoiled his gifts. 

"I don't have anything under your tree," he looked at her and continued, " I'm sorry." She pulled her hands away. " Maybe I should go. Allow your family to have your holiday without me burdening you."

"Asta"

"I can go to your apartment." Your apartment?

"Asta"

"Or one of the centers to help out. They always need extra hands."

"ASTA. I want you here. I want to spend Christmas with you. This will be our first Christmas together." He takes both her hands in his. "Please, stay?"

"DAMIAN" 

Suddenly, her hands are gone, and so is she. All that remains is a pile of clothing and the faint buzzing that fades away. 

"Hey, Damian," Dick says as he places a hand on his shoulder " Where did Asta go?"

"What do you want?"

Dick put his hands up in surrender at the sound of anger in his voice. 

"Bruce wants us in the cave. Apparently, someone has something played for the holidays; nothing good, though."

-

Damian was semi-paying attention, but most of his thoughts were elsewhere, on Asta. The debriefing was long but nonsense. More activities were happening at the docks, including drug and weapons trafficking. Black Mask and Penguin were both involved, but to which and to what extent was still a debate. They were all to watch the dock and the crime lords. 

"May I speak?" Damian spoke before anyone could leave; they all groaned but sat back down nonetheless. "I would like for us to tone down our celebration this year. Specifically, the gift giving."

"No presents, why?" Stephanie asked in dramatic shock. 

"No, I just want it to be toned down. Decrease the amount of gifts. You can pass the off individual on a later day."

"Why?" Bruce asked, confused as the others. 

"Asta," he says softly. " She has nothing to give-"

"Then take her shopping. I'm sure there is something she can get at the last minute. We don't care." Tim says, offering a solution to the question so he can leave.

" This is last minute. Christmas Eve is tomorrow. How did she not know?" Dick asked. The trees, bright lights, and Christmas carols

"She doesn't celebrate the holidays. This will be her first official Christmas."

"You've known her how long? And this is her first official Christmas. What have you been doing?"

"She doesn't like receiving gifts when she knows she can't give anything in return. I usually bring her a plate of food and blankets and spend the day after Christmas with her." Well, at least they solved the mystery of the day after Christmas with Damian and extra food with Alfred. 

"I still don't see you. Just don't take her shopping," Tim says 

"She won't take our money to buy us gifts. She won't." Jason Saw Tim opening his mouth again. " She has no money, no home, hell, the clothes currently on her back aren't even hers. She already feels like she owes us."

"She doesn't -"

"But she does. That's why she's constantly helping Alfred, always cleaning or tucking herself into the smallest corner or in Damian's room when she can't. You can take someone from nothing, from the streets, and expect them not to feel suspicious or like they owe you. On the streets, everything is an exchange."

Jason knows this. Jason lived this. He had been in her shoes at one point. He constantly worked and was on his best behavior just to stay in this manner, fearing every action would have consequences. It wasn't until his adoption that the fear disappeared. That he thought himself worth. 

"I bet she saw a present or more with her name on it. The idea of presents won't upset her but for her specifically, and she had nothing to return. Yeah, that would be upsetting." It was moments like these where the family was reminded that Jason himself had spent time on their streets and that Jason himself had at one point been homeless. While Jason often took pride in being from Crime Alley, he never really spoke of his time in its cold. 

"No gifts?" Cassandra asked 

"Two gifts each" was still a considerably large number," and all the gifts with Asta's name on them should be removed. You can all exchange your other gifts at a later date." Bruce gave the order, and everyone began to move.

"Jason," Damian called for him to stay back. The others left, and Bruce stayed to work on the computer eavesdrop. " Your gift can stay under the tree. It's the one thing I know she'll appreciate.

-

Early Christmas morning 

3 am 

She was jealous you, Damian, could sleep so peacefully while she couldn't even close her eyes. She lay awake, listening to the silences and watching time go by. Eventually, she could not take anymore, so she shifted into a serpent and slipped from Damian's hold, slithering to the door and underneath. She turned human in the hall and made her way to the nearest window. Cracking it home, she slipped out and took flight as a snow owl. Hoping the clouds would clear her mind. 

Hours later, Asta returns. Upon her return, she finds the kitchen light on. Being polite, she knocks on the kitchen door before opening it and sticks her head in it. 

" It's a bit early and cold to be outside, no?" Alfred asked as he looked at the clock hanging on the wall, which read 6:17 am.

"I couldn't sleep, so I took a flight," Asta said as she stepped into the kitchen, closing the door tightly behind her and stopping the cold from getting in. "What are you doing up so early? " 

"Cooking," Alfred said as he pulled more ingredients out of the fridge. 

"Do they have an early morning?" she stepped to the counter, seeing everything splayed about.

"No, but it is Christmas, and dinner tends to be more special during the holidays, so more prep and time is needed.  Plus Breakfast and Lunch in between." Alfred explained as he checked one of the ovens that held the Ham. 

"Do you do this all by yourself?" she asked as she found a bookmarked with dozens of recipes on the counter. 

"Jason will assist with after breakfast."  Jason was the only other person Alfred trusted in the kitchen. He had no bad history of burning or breaking anything. But he also needed his rest after patrolling, so he only accepted assistance after breakfast, giving him time to rest. 

"Can I help?" Asta asked shyly. "I would ... I would like to help you make your family dinner." After all they had given and done for her, it was the least she could do. She could never give them gifts, but the least she could make their family dinner. Gift them a warm meal just like Damian had for her every year since. 

"Our family," she looked at him confused. " Our family dinner."  Alfred pulls out something from a drawer and hands it to her. It is a long dark blue apron dress. It is then Asta remembers that she is naked. Before she can even apologize, Alfred shakes his head (Damian has already explained her displeasure with clothes. And while he understands, he will not allow her to cook in the nude).

" You can start with the chopping." a cutting board and knife were placed on the counter. 

"Thank you," it was a load of thanks, but they weren't going to unpack. He knew what she meant and what she was grateful for. He knew. He always knew. 

[wubblesred]

Ghoulcy Week 2024 Day 7 SFW

Hello vaulties, back with the final of the ghoulcy week. Day 7 prompt is a test of loyalty. It is also a bit linked to the previous days prompts. It feels so weird that this is the end. This was so much fun. I hope you enjoyed passing this week with me and hope there will be one again next year.

English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes. This will also be post in French.

It had been almost an hour since the haughty brunette had taken Lucy to their overseer. Damn it, his wife had barely opened her eyes when they pulled her out. Cooper was spinning around the room like a caged lion. Not even a week married and already the universe was trying to take away one of the only things that was worth it on this earth. The questions kept running through his mind, but one in particular kept coming back. What if Lucy chose the vault and not the ghoul. He did not know what he would do if she did.

Lucy had barely woken up and recovered from almost dying that Birdie had caught her and brought her to the overseer. She just wanted to find Cooper and get them both back on the road. But these morons wouldn’t listen and preferred to play the pseudo heroes.

“Look, Gucy, I know we have a tumultuous past but you helped this vault and we want to help you back. So I ask you again, do you want us to take care of this ghoul?"

“For the hundredth time, no! I appreciate your concerns, but as he surely points out, he is my husband and I want to leave with him.”

“Lucy, I come from the surface, I know the wasteland better than anyone else here, ghouls, and especially if this is who I think it is, are dangerous. You don’t marry them.” was Birdie’s remark while kneeling before the young woman, speaking to her as one would speak to a child.

“Cooper and I are connected in a way that no one else could understand. We understood it by traveling together, our souls call each other. I know from an outside perspective, it sounds crazy and you must think i'm totally nuts. But all I want to do is be with him. I don’t want to end up with the same problem we had last time, so let us go. Thank you so much for saving me, we’re even so let’s not talk about it anymore.”

The former vault dweller was uncomfortable talking about her feelings. She had not yet fully spoken of all that she felt to her husband and now she had to unpack everything to strangers. She knew very well that their story was absolutely crazy only Lucy felt it deep inside her, the ghoul and her were bound in an even deeper way than they thought at first. The soul of this man called to her, resonated and merged with hers, everything opposed them and yet together they created a magnificent harmony that Lucy never wanted to stop.

After another dozen speeches on the safety and dangers of the wasteland, Benjamin and Birdie agreed that she could return to her husband and even insisted that they take food with them. It was a long time and Lucy really hoped that Cooper didn’t slaughter anyone while she was away, but more importantly she hoped that he would still be there.

It seemed like an eternity since his wife left and everyone refused to give him any information. Still confined in the decontamination room, the ghoul began to slowly lose control mentally and physically, his vials were in Lucy’s bag posing next to him. It had been several days since he had given his medication to the young woman, a way of proving to her that he trusted her completely. Now he even refused to take his dose if it was not prepared by his wife, a behavior quite simply childish but one he continued to have just because it made Lucy laugh. It was her way of making herself useful to her husband, she said. God, he missed his little killer, he wanted to hold her so tight, feel her softness. So absorbed in his thoughts, he did not pay attention to the door that opened and did not realize the presence of someone until the latter jumped at his neck. Immediately recognizing Lucy, he hugged her and shoved his head into her neck.

Suddenly, a coughing fit took the throat of the ghoul, signaling to his wife that it was high time he took his dose. In no time, Lucy grabbed her bag, took a vial and injected it into Cooper’s spray bottle before giving it to him. When he recovered, the young woman explained to him that they just had to wait to receive supplies and then Benjamin and Birdie would walk them out and they would resume their journey.

After a strangely warm farewell from Vault 4, the spouses resumed their initial route. Lucy tried to apologize for slowing them down but Cooper stopped her immediately, it was only his fault for putting his wife in such danger. He added that he would have understood if she had wanted to stay there, away from him.

“Hey, first of all we’re husband and wife and two I love you, I wasn’t gonna leave you like this because we both forgot that radiation affects me more than you.”

“You had the security of a vault again. A semblance of a normal life.”

“My normal life is you now, Coop. And it wasn’t my vault. If I have to live again in one it will be vault 33 with my brother, Dogmeat, Janey and you. Besides, Norm’s gonna freak out when he sees you, it’s gonna be fun. I go to the surface for a few months and I will come back married to a ghoul with a child and a dog, he will understand nothing.”

“I think he won’t be the only one shocked to see us arrive, doll.” Could not help but add while laughing the ghoul already imagining the indignant faces of the many inhabitants of vault 33.

"Would you really come with me there to live?"

“Everything I did yesterday and today doesn’t prove it to you? I’ll be ready for anything as long as it allows me to be with you. As you said so well, my life is you now.”

“So it’s decided, let’s go find our daughter, pierce the mystery behind our existence and go home.”

To seal this wonderful deal Cooper decided to put a kiss on his wife’s lips before taking her hand and continuing their long journey towards their home.

[mvshortcut]

Ranking every time the Ten Men get taken down by how cringe fail they are (Part 2)

Warning: this post contains major spoilers for Riddle of Ages!

We're back again already, folks. Part 1 is here; now it's time for round 2 of some good old pointing and laughing.

Book 4: The Riddle of Ages

first appearance of my problematic faves the Katz brothers! There's always gotta be one cowardly goon in the lot, and the Scaredy Katz fulfill their role admirably. This knockout isn't too cringe-worthy, although the dramatic "Now!" [immediately gets knocked out] is quite comical, as well as the image of him trying to run on his knees. 3/10

And here we have Garrotte being painfully average once again. Although this one is made more interesting by the fact that he and Sharpe apparently jumped some random businessmen on the street and stole their completely normal briefcases, then had the audacity to be surprised when said completely normal briefcases didn’t hold up well in a combat scenario. It’s almost as if they’re designed to hold paperwork, not fend off a flurry of tranquilizer darts. Who would’ve thunk. Also. You could literally walk into any Home Depot and find dozens of items more suited for this purpose, which the Ten Men easily could’ve done if they weren’t so darn committed to the stonks bit. 

Also, “Most unfair! Such shoddy materials!” is the funniest possible thing you could say upon getting knocked out. It’s giving “trust fund kindergartener encounters Crayola crayons during art class for the first time ever.” Please just say “god damn it” like a normal person. 4/10

See this one is so funny to me. You're telling me that the infamous shock watches, which have terrorized several of our beloved characters over the course of the series, can be defeated simply by doing simple gymnastics? it's giving "show Sticky doing long division in his head to defeat Curtain's infamous Happiness brainwashing." Also, you're telling me you can knock out people simply by throwing darts at them? wild. anyways. I love Katz getting knocked out mid-threatening leap. 5/10

diversity win! Milligan won't kill you but he isn't above shooting you in the ass! 7/10

sorry this is so long but we need the full context to appreciate how cringe this is. imagine you brought five (5) of your best men to locate SQ Pedalian, a young adult not particularly skilled in combat, and also to fight a teenage girl. And now it's gone so sideways that you're literally the last one left standing. Standing, on top of an ice cream truck that you pushed on top of your opponent, who is now trapped beneath and yet has his hands casually laced behind his head as if he's tanning on the beach. And you got tricked into standing there, pinned by an empty gun, and simply watching while he loads darts into the (previously empty) gun. And now he's just shooting a bunch of empty darts at you, one after another, while you have to stand there and wait for him to finally knock you out. I think I would disintegrate on the spot. Also "You wouldn't shoot me in the face. That's not your style" bestie you just watched him shoot Sharpe in the ass. Would you prefer that instead? 9/10

This one might take the cake. First of all, they all fell for the trap, so now they're stuck in jail again like 3 days after escaping. And then, the teenage girl you've been terrorizing for years finally turns your stupid condescending pet names right back on you before a nine year old uses her mind powers to make you knock yourself out with your own weapon. 🫵 CRINGE. 10/10

Still very cringe, though less so than McCracken. It's kinda funny that Constance made them use their shockwatches instead of the (less painful) handkerchiefs. 6/10

Y'know, given the Katz brother's astounding loser energy, I'm amazed that they might actually have the least cringe take down. Taking the coward's way out. I respect it. Love them staring out the window. sad tigger gif here. Bonus points for ratting out Crawlings for being awful. 1/10 and two gold star stickers for them both

And, finally, for the grand finale, our favorite cringe boy is back:

Crawlings is making up for having fewer appearances in this book by making his COUNT. and YIKES. I literally have to step away every time I read this. From the supervillain monologue, to everyone groaning at him and then simply ignoring him (knowing what's about to happen), to Crawlings immediately poisoning and temporarily paralyzing himself the SECOND he gets a chance to be the Final Girl. And then he gets thrown back into jail. Plus the fact that he's on the floor about to pass out still wondering when the "Genius Serum" will kick in. uhhh. y'know, Crawlings, I might not be a genius either, but I have the slightest inkling that all may not be going according to plan. 11/10

And there we have it folks! The final rankings are:

Hertz: 6

The Katz Brothers: 9

Garrotte: 14

Sharpe: 22

McCracken: 35

And, in first place, with 36 points, our beloved Crawlings.

In conclusion,

[thriveonanonymity]

Okay I have some thoughts about the vengence saga. Unfiltered through thoughts, just what I think about it after only a few listens (like less than a dozen.

This is going to be a long one.

The first half slaps quite a bit; The voice of Calypso is great, Troy is always a pleasure to hear and the writing fits them just as well as it did in wisdom and circe sagas respectfully.

Ballads like 'I'm not sorry for loving you' are songs that take me some time to get warm to, so i want say much about it.

Dangerous is a little slowed and burdened by the intro; if it were a musical and the albums we got were a soundtrack, I would cut the song to begin basically after the ody intro (though that would be just a bit difficult because it follows exactly into hermes' parts). It feels somewhat expositiony and isnt written as well as it could have been? I might be wrong here, thing is, it just doest sit with me well writing wise. Soon as Troy enters stage, Dangerous goes HARD. The back half of dangerous slaps incredibly, no notes. Big fan of ody's verse too. and oh my god the livestream animatic. ody fighting monsters and hermes is there just DANCIN, my boy

Now charybdis feels like a transitional song a lot, which is okay. One that is more exposition than anything. Shit you need to talk about and set up; youre gonna have those in a 40 song musical. For a transitional song its quite cool, though its kind of hard for me to say much else on it. The instrumental shift at the end just as posiedon arrives feels damn right.

Get in the water is amazing. I dont like how some limes are timed though, 'ruthlessness / is mercy upon / ourselves' is an obvious as a way to chop it, but i feel like the vocal riffs on it couldve been made a bit more interesting, it feels a bit disjointed, and that might be the point. I might be wrong here, im not much of a musician. Now why he timed the lines delivered by the dead like he did i do not know, i dont like it. It just doesnt fit the timescale of the instrumentation. I might be obviously incorrect to someone more musically aligned, but thats what i see. If i am correct, it might be so off to serve the narrative, monster and all. To show that these calls from the dead aren't here to help him, basically, they're here to haunt him, which would be my first interpretation if the lines were more coherent. If it was more coherent, i would read it the same way i read the baby tele flashback in god games. But that NOT being the message, the dead NOT giving him the resolve to go on, it just doesnt really work with the lyrics for the upcoming anime battle i feel. Im starting to ramble so ill move on.

Six hundred strike is very cool. Except for about a half second when he screams his attack name, that goody enough to take me out of the story, and that aint good, and the last lines post torture. Firstly, i love the fact that we come straight in with electric guitars, you can tell that cunning ody ain't fucking around. The battle itself is very epic, very grand, again, except for the 'six hundred strike'. Like. Horge. Mr. Jalapeño. What does that even fucking mean. I would get it if there was a line previously that was like "for every pain you caused" but like. Even then. It ought be plural. It just feels incredibly goofy and incongruous with the otherwise epic battle. Moving on. Torturing an immortal scene is always aweosme, and the execution is very good, ody's screams are very nice indeed. Vocals convey emotion quite well here, from both Jorge and Steven. The one thing i DO have a problem with is how they handled the last few lines. I understand what they are intended to do, and they do that, but they don't do the idea justice. It could have been made LESS like a piece of exposition, and i wish it was.

Generally i liked it??? I guess?????? Im not sure. Im not as dead hyped as i was after underworld or circe, but underowlrd is an act finale, and circe has me biased as it has some of my top songa from the musical so far. Vengance hits a little weak compared to wisdom, but that might be that i didnt have time to really proccess it. I felt similarly about underworld when it first released, to a lesser degree, but still. Maybe ill get around to it.

Also not a single beloved character died horribly.

Im disappointed, captain.

[poke-entomology]

A Tentacool Story

Chap 4: In which our nameless hero shall remain unnamed... No he won't get one anytime soon, I have a name, but he doesn't get it!

Chapter 4: Can't escape the cool

'Prof! Get your lazy butt over here!' *splat*

'Your student is in serious need of assistance!' *splat*

'Wouldn't it be bad if the last person who saw me before I went missing was you?' *splat*

'Damn, ran out of mud balls.'

As the Tentacool began rolling up more mud along the bank, the professor, who didn't even seem to notice the ever growing trails of mud near the lake, wandered about the ruins much as he always did. So obsessed with research.

'Been a few days now, and these damn noodle arms of mine are still seriously bad at throwing! I'm sorry human arms, I'll never underestimate your practicality again!'

'Ah, but I've got my daily routine. In the early mornings when the professor gets here, I throw mud! Hopefully one day I'll have made enough to create some kind of message that not even a foggy brained old man like him can't ignore... though with my current arm strength I've only been able to make a single "H"... without the middle line.'

'After that, I make up a few more balls and catch any fish that happen to wander by. Only a few though, can't risk overfishing in this lake. There's only so much to go around and about two dozen other pokemon to share them with! Although I guess the Goldeen are mostly just eating the weeds that grow around here. But I don't wanna take food out of those Magikarp's mouths if I can help it... they outnumber me 13 to one.'

‘In the evening I usually swim around and try to figure out how this body of mine works. I can swim just fine! Well, I can swim as fast as a newborn of 5 days at least. Hey! I'm still growing! Can barely use a few moves though, so I'm no good at battling just yet. Not that I make a lot of enemies living this quiet life.'

'Oh yeah, speaking of which, here comes this a-hole.' Right on time, a Krabby passes by. It's a trainer's pokemon, I think. A neglectful trainer, most likely, judging by how poorly behaved it is.

The crab snatches up more fish than it can eat, using it's claw to bash any pokemon that wander close enough. Many of them bear scars from trying to fight it away to protect their limited food source.

'I really hate that guy.'

'But forget him! Escape is my number one priority!' Finishing up crafting tomorrow's mud, the jelly man leaves them by the bank to dry and goes about swimming practice. Today's breakfast would be a light one, the pokemon around here are looking thinner than usual today.

'I wonder... how long can this last?'

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

“Ah, I see, my usefulness to the crew is it?” Gale chuckles softly. He props his arms up on the back of his chair as he straddles it to give her easy access to work. He leans his head forward slightly to keep his hair out of the way.

The salve almost immediately dulls the ache of the bruises hen she puts it on his skin, but it’s her dedicated attention to his over-worked and long knotted muscles that truly feels like bliss. The feel of her fingers working into his flesh is like heaven and he can’t hold back the sharp groan that escapes him.

“That is quite a bit better, yes...” Gale’s breath catches when she hits a particularly tight spot beside his shoulder blade. When she manages to gently unwind the tension he lets out another low groan, resting his forehead against his arms.

“Not that tired I can’t stand through a meeting. Least, not as bad as I look, I promise,” he answers with a soft chuckle. “Don’t apologize for last night - we’re all glad to have Astarion back on board. And especially to have him in such good spirits. If it takes a little...noise to get him there, that’s alright.”

Almost unthinking, his hand shoots out to catch her by the elbow before she can get away. His expression is one of soft concern, brown eyes glittering in the mid-morning light as he gazes up at her. He pauses for a moment, a dozen different things burning in his chest, yet none coming to the fore. After a moment he finally manages to speak.

“Thank you,” he murmurs earnestly. He pauses again, struggling to voice most of what he’s thankful for. “For helping me - and for caring. About me... and about Astarion.”

He slowly retracts his hand, letting it fall against the back of the chair, his rings clacking softly against the wood.

“I’ll...catch up with you. At the meeting.”

-G.D.

She watches his hand fall. There's a blush creeping into her cheeks, she can feel it. Damn it, she thinks. I can't believe Astarion- she shakes her head, then realises too late she's staring.

'Sorry,' she croaks, meeting his eye. 'Lost in thought. I mean, you're welcome.' She looks down at her feet. 'I've been abandoned before. I don't plan on inflicting that on anyone else. So I'm here, for whatever you need.'

He is so beautiful and so dangerous and I need to get out of here now before I land myself in even more trouble with the captain.

'And-' she says, turning back as she gets to the door. 'I wasn't planning on... on what happened. I don't...'

Why am I justifying myself to this man?

'All I mean is I know what people think. I know I don't really belong here, not yet. But I'll earn it. And-'

A thought suddenly strikes her. A dangerous, foolish, utterly tempting thought.

'Wait. Gale... you're a talented mage, aren't you? Can you teach me?'

Idiot.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts 2 and 9 with Stephen Strange x Beauty, please? It might be sweet seeing him comfort her after she had a really cold and exhausting day.

2. "Drink some of this tea, it will warm you up."

9. "Go to sleep, I will not leave you alone."

Hurt/Comfort Stephen Strange x Beauty Lincoln (OFC)

Hey, Stephen - I'm so so sorry, but I'm gonna have to cancel on our plans tonight. I've had an incredibly rotten day at work and stuff, so I just want to curl up on my sofa & watch something mind numbing & lick my wounds a bit.🥺Even though I miss you like crazy, I just wouldn't be good company at all. We'll have to try again, hopefully soon. Love you. Always.💋💋 

Stephen gnawed on his lower lip as he read Beauty's text a third time. His schedule lately had been jampacked as supernatural activity across the globe has kicked into overdrive in the month leading up to Halloween. The rise in incursions from eldritch realms was to be expected at this time of year, but it was often complicated by amateur ghost hunters and wannabe practitioners of magic or voodoo either trying to fight the baddies on their own, or summon malevolent spirits to do their bidding. Meaning he and his fellow sorcerers had twice the work to do—protecting humanity from both mystical dangers and from the foolish antics of those who believed they had a calling to do the same.

He glanced over at the vase holding a dozen and a half long stem American Beauty roses in several shades of pink, which he'd meant to accompany his apologies for missing their last three date nights. Thinking that his girl must be in a very bad way to make tonight their fourth miss. Crap. Stephen decided at once he wasn't going to let that happen. As quickly as his scarred fingers would allow, he texted back. 'Understood. Missing you too, sweetheart. We can reschedule. You rest up & take it easy tonight. And please just let me know when you get home safely...so I don't need to worry so much.'

Beauty's reply came right away. 'Will do. Thanks for understanding, magic man. And for worrying about me.💗' Stephen had to smile fondly; a sweet sort of warmth always filled his chest when she called him that. And man, had he been missing that warmth! If he hadn't already decided to surprise her, that simple little phrase would've been enough to set his plan in motion. 

Beauty stood before her door, damp-haired (having forgotten her umbrella in her desk drawer) and with the lower half of her sweater-coat and her suede boots drenched from being splashed by a taxi that had pulled up to the curb as she been waiting to cross the street. At least the first time Stephen sees me in weeks won't be with me looking this bedraggled, she consoled herself. Although I'd rather warm up in his arms than in that old afghan thrown across my sofa top.

It's better this way anyway, she sighed forlornly, zipping off the text he'd asked her to send so that he'd know she'd gotten home in one piece. Stepping through her door, Beauty noted the room was candlelit and redolent with one of her favorite scents in the world. Gingerbread. This just had to be Stephen's work! Already her heart—weighed down by all the bad news she'd received at work this day—began to feel a bit lighter.

She dumped her attache and pocketbook on the floor and shrugged off her wet sweater, hanging it on one of the hooks beside her door. Inhaling deeply (he must've found her stash of gingerbread scented candles) Beauty called out his name.

Stephen came around the corner from the kitchen, wearing his dear, lop-sided grin and one of her frilly aprons over jeans—surely a sight he intended to amuse her. He had the sleeves of the dark blue silk shirt she'd recently given him (just because she'd known he'd look damn fine in it) rolled up, further indication he had something brewing in the kitchen. "Oh, Stephen...you didn't have to go to this trouble. I would've been fine just crashing on the couch."

"Nonsense," he insisted as he came to stand in front of her, smoothing one hand over her wet hair. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't do what I could to take care of you?" 

Speechless for the moment, Beauty lowered her gaze shyly—and to hide the fact that tears stood in her eyes. Stephen's voice, low and deep and rich with honest concern, continued, "I've lost track of all the times you've taken care of me at the end of a rough day. It's long past time I returned the favor." He pulled her into his ready arms.

Beauty nodded and laid her head upon his shoulder, and then the tears did come as he rocked her gently. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, baby. Just let me be here for you—and let me remind you of how much I love you..."

She had cried for a good ten minutes, clinging tightly to him, only aware that her hair and clothes and boots had dried completely in the interim (a subtle charm Stephen had worked for her comfort) until shegathered her wits and backed out of his arms. "Go get changed," he instructed her gently, "I laid your jammies and robe out on your bed, and then you can meet me back her for something to warm you on the insides, okay?"

Beauty nodded silently, kissing his cheek before following her good doctor's orders. When she returned to the living room, she discovered that Stephen had set a small tray on the coffee table, along with a vase of gorgeous roses. He motioned for her to take a seat.  "Drink some of this tea, it will warm you up."

Meekly, gratefully, she accepted the cup, sipping gingerly until she could tell it was the perfect temperature. "Now," Stephen told her, picking up the remote control, "I've got The Princess Bride cued up for your viewing pleasure, unless you prefer Practical Magic to begin with instead..."

"You remembered..."

"That we were watching that the first time I finally had the sense enough to kiss you?" Stephen cupped her cheek and leaned closer, "How could I not, sweetheart? That was the best first kiss of my life..."

"Don't tease me," she whispered.

"Simple truth, Beauty. And my life has been better and better every day since." Stephen took her free hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles, "I should probably tell you these things more often. I'm gonna try my damndest going forward, to do just that. And to take care of you as you deserve." He stood up, "And now supper. Your favorite comfort foods on the menu. Pizza Hut pepperoni pan pizza—and a mac'n'white cheddar cheese that I made from a box mix myself."

"Will there be dessert," she asked, gifting him her sweetest smile—the first of the evening.

"Ben & Jerry's reverse chocolate chunk--"

"But they don't make that anymore!"

"I know," he winked, "But don't ask a sorcerer to reveal all his secrets, honey. There needs to be at least a little mystery to keep the spice in a relationship."

Sated on pizza, mac'n'cheese, and her all-time favorite ice cream, Beauty was feeling a whole world better than before she had stepped through the door of her flat. As they watched the magical romance, she shared with Stephen the things that had made her day so awful. Budget cuts at the Library meant she's have to lay off at least one staff member and truncate the Library Page program she'd started two years earlier. She'd found out that one of her students in the 5-8yr old reading group was battling leukemia and had been sent to St. Jude's Hospital in the hopes of getting lifesaving treatment. And shortly before she had initially texted Stephen, her brother had called with the sad news that his wife had miscarried four months into her pregnancy. In Stephen's arms, she found the exact comfort she had been needing, but hadn't wanted to impose upon his valuable time to ask for. 

The heavy emotions of the day, coupled with the carb heavy meal Beauty had consumed, finally asserted themselves as bone deep exhaustion. Though she was doing her best to stay awake, Stephen could feel her drifting off. He nuzzled the top of her head and tightened his arm around her. "You wanna go to bed, honey? We can pick up the movie where we left off, on another night."

"Uh-huh," she yawned, snuggling even closer, "I'd rather stay here with you, Stephen. It's been ages since I've felt this warm and cozy. I...I don't want it to end."

Stephen hummed agreeably. "I know the feeling, baby. I've been missing this more than I even realized. I'm not gonna let us go this long apart again. We both deserve better. So for now," he sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head atop hers, "Go to sleep, I will not leave you alone."

Secure in the care of the man she adored, Beauty slept more soundly than she had in months. In the morning, she awoke in her bed beside him, and it proved to be the beginning of a very beautiful day.

Feedback/Reblogs are incredibly meaningful. Please support content creators by doing us the honor. Thank you!

buy me a coffee?☕

@stewardofningishzida ~ thank you again for giving me a chance to write Beauty & her Stephen! It's been so damn long, and I've been missing them together.

[demenior]

Dear Dem! For the meme, if you feel like it: 💚 for Cassie and Jake, please :D

[Prompts can be found here]

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

[set loosely at the end of book 19.]

It's a nerve-wracking series of events that would be funny, all of us running around with our hands out like we've finally lost our minds, if my heart wasn't about to break through my chest. We've flown dozens of missions, fought in more battles than I can keep track of, and yet with all of us-- no one can catch one damn butterfly!

<Jake, go left!>

I don't even question Tobias' instinct. He knows the air better than I do. The delicate wings-- Cassie's-- delicate wings work frantically as her butterfly mind tries to escape the three human kids and one alien trying to catch her.

I lunge left, hands extended, just as Tobias dives low over our heads. He nearly clips Cassie, sends her into a tailspin... right into my hands.

I've never held something so important in my life. My parents don't even trust me with the good dishes at home right now. I keep dropping things, or knocking them over. I'm kind of a big klutz-- couldn't even make the basketball team. And now she's here, I can feel her in my hands--

"Don't squish her!" Rachel snaps. She wraps her hands around mine to make sure Cassie can't escape.

"Ax! Tobias," I shout, "someone start talking to her-- get her to demorph!"

They do it directly to her, rather than broadcasting it. Or maybe they do. I don't hear what they're saying. Cassie's wings flutter against my palms. I'm sweating so much.

<Prince Jake,> Ax says, <she is ready. You need to let her go.>

Rachel has to help pull my hands apart. We all watch the little butterfly flutter down to the ground. The wings spread, close.

And the butterfly grows.

Cassie makes it look effortless. As if she didn't become a nothlit, as if we almost lost her, and now she-- she's--

"Hi," Cassie says softly, looking back at the rest of us. And she's her beautiful, short, perfectly human self again.

I'm moving before I can think. I want to hold her-- to feel she's back. That we didn't lose her. I pull her tight. I know I'm big, I try to hold back so I don't get in peoples' way, but right now I don't care.

I'm thinking of what my mom did the last time I cried in front of her (so long ago), I turn to kiss Cassie's cheeck just as she turns to look at me and--

The kiss is short. I should take it back. Everyone is watching us.

"I'm sorry my hands are sweaty," I whisper.

"Thanks for catching me," Cassie says.

[dualsoul1423]

The day was a dark overcast, which was nice. I would have come even if it was sunny, but this at least meant I could join the gathered crowd of family and friends in attendance. Anyone who asked me why I was here received the same practised lie; that I was the grandchild of one of the soldiers. It made enough sense that no one ever questioned why I was there alone. The service lasted a little more than an hour and a half. People have more important things to do than honour the dead these days, I suppose. Even as people left, I stayed behind to reminisce a little longer. It was then, as I stood by the memorial stone, that I noticed a small yank on the sleeve of my jacket. I turned, and was faced by an old man in a wheelchair looking up at me with stunning blue eyes. He wore a uniform with markings that I recognized as coming from my detachment, and just as quickly as my eyes went wide, I hid the surprise on my face. "You... You're Davis," he said, the awe clear in his gruff voice. I returned a rehearsed smile "Sergeant William Davis was my grandfather, sir. Though I have been told we look quite ali-" "Don't you try to bullshit me," the man replied with a stern tone. "I may be old, but I'm not stupid. I know who you are, so you better remember me." "Well, to be frank, I-" The words that were forming in my mouth wilted away as I studied the old man's face. His features had changed so much over the years, I almost didn't recognize him. It was a small scar on the man's chin that returned old memories I had tried to bury. Memories of looking deep into those blue eyes, seventy years ago. I could hardly believe it. Tightness coiled up in my chest as it finally hit me. "You're Roy. Roy Taylor. You- You're still alive." The old man nodded slowly; cautiously. "You know, for a moment, I thought I was going crazy. If you told me I was, I probably would have believed you... But I'm not, and you're really here." I tried to search for the words. All I could manage was, "I'm... I'm glad I could see you again, Roy." The old man took a steady breath, not taking his eyes off of me. "You know when I last saw you, Will? During that damn ambush in the middle of the night. It was chaotic and crazy and a lot of good men died that night. They told me you were one of them, even if they wouldn't let me see a body. They said that you got hit with a grenade, and there wasn't much left." He paused, looking down for a moment before returning his hardened gaze to meet mine. "But I saw you. I took a bullet and then you pushed me down, telling me to take cover. Then you took a dozen bullets of your own before tearing those bastards apart. And then... you took one last look at me before running off into that jungle while I laid there in the mud." I opened my mouth, trying to come up with an excuse. At this point, it was pointless to lie. Finally I nodded. "What you saw was true. So surely you know the truth." "You're damn right I do," he said with a grin. "You're a friggin' fruit bat." I blinked twice at Roy, before the meaning of his words struck me. Heat rushed to my cheeks as I blushed. "T-that's certainly one way of putting it. I can't say anyone has ever called me that before." Roy's hard gaze softened as he reached up to touch my cheek. I leaned into it, reminded of the nights we shared, away from the squad, with the stars overhead. "You could have come and found me, you know. I spent a long time expecting you to." I squeezed my eyes shut, ashamed of my own cowardice. "I'm sorry that I kept you waiting." Roy chuckled. "It's alright." He lifted his hand away from me, pointing behind him at another elderly man sitting beside a young woman. "I eventually stopped waiting. Met Griff. We adopted a little girl together. I don't regret it, so you shouldn't either." He paused, before adding, "Even still... It's been nice to see you again, Will." I nodded slowly. "It has. I'm glad we bumped into each other like this." Roy smiled softly. "Do you wanna meet them?" I chuckled, nodding again with a tear in my eye. "I would love to, Roy."

You’re an immortal who fought during WW2. Many years later, you are attending a memorial service, when one of the old veterans claims to know your secret.