#Nevada nowhere

[wogot3]

From Chapter 10 Read full story here

"Oh soldier~ Your priority is not to serve the greater good. By all means, it's all in your mind. Nothing is good or bad."

Soldat!

"A skillful, cohesive trained force altogether is good.. but barely enough. That's where you come in."

Snap out of it, Soldat!

"You will be lethal, yes. But a line that competes adversaries over personal improvement is widely absurd. Improve each other, and we have a chance."

Please come back to me...

"If you are not better than yourself the day before, you are not necessary. You're free to quit whenever you want. By all means, surprise me!"

Soldat....

"But don't come back to serve the A.A.H.W simply because the outside is unforgivable. We provide you a livable environment, you prove your worth not to us but to yourself. This is your story. Let us focus on everything else."

Warning. Land Killer structural core underheated. Contact local authorities immediately.

Dat gasped softly in a quiet empty but spacious room, lights off and nobody anywhere. He shook while sitting up and took a breath as he stops halfway, falling back down. He laid a hand on his stomach, motioning a circle. Sol widened his eye and blinked.

Lifting his uniform up, his injuries completely disappeared as if nothing happened. But, his hand still shook as he lifts it up. He turned his head to his right to see pillows beside his head and a door on the wall.

Critical warning. Land Killer severely tampered. Reactivation imminent. Contact local authorities. Critica-

KZZZT!

Soldat stared at the door. It's opened and someone is there.

..!

An employer. Green eyes with an aurora-like aura, who seems to be.. in his head.

"S- s - s ss s-." Soldat jumped when he spoke.

The employer smiled. "You're really not supposed to be here."

"..?"

He took a few steps forward. "But I really need you to know something."

Soldat sat up.

"You're so over yourself.. literally! Your body is a- get this, get this-!" The employer shifts himself into varying different forms as he laughs and wheezes. "You're a wet soggy giant fish! ahAAAAHHAHAHAA!!!"

The room automatically turned transparent, everything there including his bed is invisible, overlooking a view of a motionless marlin fish wearing soldat headwear on the metal bed that has a pillow and blanket. On the bottom of the bed is another body.

"Wh-"

"Oh it's exactly what it means, A-78. You're a thought!"

"Hh?!"

"Uh oh, looks like I'm returning to your other body, adios!"

"W?!"

"You'll return to yours soon enough. Right now, I'm really hungry! I NEED FOOD! SOMEONE GIVE ME FOOD-"

And with that, the employer disappears, Soldat immediately getting out of his bed and searching where the employer used to be.

Looking outside, he's trapped in a thought bubble that connects to the lifeless fish and watched a body get up from under the metal bed. His body.

Soldat tried screaming at it, slamming his fists onto the layer within the bubble, but no sound is heard and the body drags itself onto the elevator. It's expression completely blank and gaped.

Z-zz-zombie?! But I don't look green!

On top of Soldat appeared letters that conveyed his exact thoughts. He looked up and raised his eyebrow. He suddenly remembered. Letters start appearing once again on top of him as the previous phrase disappears.

..Compliant! Compliant said he was hungry. He must be in that body!

And with that, Soldat tried to swim down to the fish body, the thought bubble morphing downwards along with the letters inside it.

Eventually, he managed to squeeze into the fish's head with a "Pop!". Afterwards, the fish started to move slowly. And then flopped around violently.

It's desperately gasping, dropped down the metal bed and quickly flopping slowly towards its original soldat body.

The body however seems to be more aware of itself as it manages to click the elevator buttons, yet failing miserably in picking a specific button as it nearly clicked every single button while still moving like a puppet with a blank expression. Honestly.. he's always in a blank expression so it's not any different. Its tummy growled loudly.

Soldat, the familiar (yet fishy) Soldat, tried his best to yell in his might. But fish don't talk, so all the sounds ever were was wet flopping.

By then, the elevator had already closed and ascended, leaving Dat to flop around barely near the doors. He kept flopping. Until..

*pop*

??????

Well. Okay.

He ran with the new unusual legs, losing balance at some point but he pressed on. He ran to the emergency staircase up, checking each level's elevator.

Meanwhile slowly stopping at each level, Soldat's body laid limp on the floor of the elevator but eye still wide awake. When it stopped at level 16, Agent is seen in one of the floors far away but visible, who's busy stealing chairs while grumbling.

He caught eye contact with the body and gasped, dropping everything he was doing.

"You- huh??" The elevator doors closed. "SOLDAT!!"

Agent rushed to climb the staircase 5 floors higher and looked at the elevator door, and realised it's stopped at only one stop above where he was. "Huh..?"

Awkwardly waiting until the lift finally stopped at his level, Agent quickly entered, kneeling down next to the body. "Soldat!"

He checked for Dat's pulse and huffed in relief. Agent held on his shoulders and shook him. "Snap out of it, Soldat!" It never responded, only staring up the ceiling blankly.

"Please come back to me..." Agent sat down. "Soldat.... I.. Whatever I said before. I'm-" He glanced at Soldat's stomach, uniform slightly revealing the gash, which stained his new untorn uniform yellow.

Did he take out his bandages..? Agent slowly pulled the cloth up to reveal it fully. The injury got even worse. "Gosh.. uhm. w..... what if.."

Agent waited for the elevator door to close, looking at the security cameras and sweating. He went on his knees as he rubs his hands together in preparation. "I hope this isn't too painful for you, buddy." The body only blinked.

Quickly he grabbed the injury, as if it were just a sticker on the body and pulled it out, letting it fall beside them both. "Soldat? Yoooouuu.. you okay now?" It still never responds, but as the lift stops on the next level, Agent could hear loud footsteps at the staircase area and he swiftly turned.

A fish appeared. With legs. It wheezes heavily. "S- Soldat??!?" The lift doors were closing and the fish ran with all it's might, growing another set of legs to run as fast as a dog as Agent struggled to get up to hold the door open.

They both managed to succeed as the marlin finally collapsed onto the elevator floor.

"Holy- Oh my god, hold on a little longer, I'm getting you two back together!" The soldat body suddenly got up as his stomach growled. "Dick! Who told you could run away from your Self!"

Agent grabbed the marlin fish and shoved him right into the body's mouth.

It took awhile for the body to completely (somehow) swallow the oversized fish back and it collapsed once again, eye closed as he breathes. Soldat slowly opened his eye to see Agent.

He quickly sat up, examining his surroundings and eventually seeing his once-was scar taken right off his body. Soldat narrowed his eye at Agent and lightly smacked his shoulder. Agent rubbed behind his neck and nervously laughed.

Soldat then embraced him, for a longer period than before as he waits for Agent to fully return the hug. The elevator finally reached level 24, stopping for good as both of them slowly got out of the hug.

[Thankful.] Soldat signed. Agent looked away smiling, but Sol tapped his shoulder for Agent turn back to him.

[Heard you said. Sorry too.]

Agent snickered awkwardly. "Even for you, I didn't know soldats can get this soft."

Soldat laughed as he whined, face turning yellow, gently fake punching Agent as he laughs too. Deliberator, hearing all this racket approached the elevator to witness whatever they were doing. He raised his eyebrow, and looked to see Dat's detached scar beside them.

"Now that you're both okay, you should get back to work."

"Oh come on, we just had an emotional moment!" Agent retorted.

"Emotional moments are not productive."

Agent groaned as Soldat couldn't stop giggling. Suddenly, Sol's growling stomach overpowered all sound as everyone looked at Dat. He blushed and covered his stomach with his hands.

Delib scoffed. "I'll treat everyone to lunch." Dat quickly got up to tap on Deliberator.

[My birthday is next week.]

Deliberator stared. "Ah. Right. Well, what do you want?"

[The date of your birthday.]

"Hm."

Agent gasped. "Yes!"

Delib turned back to return to his office. "No."

[jellogram]

Tomorrow is moving day and you would think that since this is my ninth moving day in 18 months that this would be super chill for me but no. Every goddam time I get anxiety about it.

[jamesunderwater]

blame graceland, too by phoebe bridgers but I do have a new multichap idea and im kinda obsessed

[skimmeh]

Now that season two was cancelled can we go back to using the fannon seasons to refer to the story again

Yes I'm still not over that ... I wrote so much documenting that dumb server and it was so uncomplicated before

[hazardsofspikesandnevadeans]

Starter call for Wrath, Homicide, and others of the Anti family.

Like or reblog if you wanna meet up with them.

[nugothrhythms]

"Pretty Little Fangs" by Las Vegas, Nevada-based weird darkwave act Restless off of 2023 release Path to Nowhere

[halftheway]

disclaimer that everyone in this series is a) built different and b) has spent a long time in therapy so if it seems ooc well It Is BUT. i was talking to ari abt oa!karlbur and their weird ass relationship like yes i do poke fun at them for on paper seeming like they're into each other but it's so important to me that they're not actually romantically involved. they live in the weied gray space i've always occupied between platonic and romantic but it's not even gray, it's like a swirl of five different colors and it's just Theirs. i really like having the space to explore what different types of relationships can look like that i might not even be able to fully explain or describe and like. if i set out to do this intentionally the last two people i would've chosen are ckarl and wilbur but somehow throughout the writing process they just fell together like that naturally. this is a long post so i will Stop Now<3

[freakshowonfire]

wrote another new thing!! inspired by a night i spent on a boy scouts trip

[softwaluigi]

I just need to be driving 80 on the interstate. I just need to be driving 80 on the interstate. I just need to be driving 80 on the interstate.

[8one6]

Road Trip 2k24: Part 10 - Tonopah

So I needed a place to stay after visiting Rachel and my next stop would have been way more driving than I was comfortable with so I found a interesting place to stay in the middle of nowhere Nevada.

You can probably guess where I stayed since it's the only reason anyone outside of Tonopah even knows the name of the town. (Almost as weird as this motel is the fact that there are like three other hotels in the town.)

I'm sad to say that I can't recommend staying here. It's a 2-star motel that charges 4-star prices due to the novelty of the theme. There's also nothing else to do in the town other than go on the motel's own ghost hunt.

The guide, Chris, was a really nice guy but honestly the ghost hunt was really a lot of nothing. It seems the only things haunting the clown motel are the ghosts of deferred maintenance and the gaseous remains of something I ate near Zion.

This was the door to my room (supposedly the most haunted room in the motel) and the rest of what I saw was in similar condition. This place still uses physical keys for the locks.

Unless you are a huge fan of paranormal or the motel's theme I'd then it's not really worth the stay.

[white-spirit-of-darkness]

i think i'm not coping well because in about a month i'll be in the united states and my brain is playing a dangerous game called having hope we'll see him again

[dumortain-adam]

customers are so fucking annoying man. if you don't cooperate and keep on cursing at the customer service agent handling your concerns, how can you understand what's being explained to you and do what's needed to be done????

[olivergarlic]

i made a grunt oc i love them sm

alright, the little grunt dressup game version 1.0 is up. please let me know if theres any issues.

youre welcome to share any guys you end up making with this, but do be aware there arn't very many choices but it's enough to be considered something for now.

and if you have any suggestions feel free to toss em in my ask-box

[steddieasitgoes]

Detours & Second Chances

written for @steddie-week Day 5 prompt: Reunion / Getting Back Together Rating: T | wc: 3545 | no cw Another big thank you to @sidekickjoey and @thefreakandthehair for giving this a beta read for me! Read on ao3

Steve had high hopes for this road trip. 

Just him, the twins, and the wide open roads with the promise of the beach and Disneyland on the horizon. He knew better than to plan it down to the second, especially when traveling with Mabel and Ollie, but he did hope to keep to some kind of schedule. A few nights here, a couple of nights there, a handful of free time hours carved into nearly every day so the kids could pick which tacky roadside attraction they could visit and then gloat to Aunt Robin about seeing. 

What Steve hadn’t planned for was the Winnebago going up in smoke four and a half hours from Disneyland on I-15. 

The good news is that it happened just as they entered Las Vegas, Nevada, and not thirty minutes later in the middle of the Nevada-California desert. The bad news is that it happened just as they entered Las Vegas, Nevada on a Sunday afternoon when everyone was trying to leave. 

Steve expects the drivers around him to curse and flip him off. At the very least, he imagines them shaking their heads in disapproval as they slowly inch past the smoking Winnebago broken down in the middle of the three-lane highway. And there is some of that, honking horns and judgmental gazes, enough that he has to explain to Mabel and Ollie that showing someone your middle finger is not nice and no you shouldn’t do it to each other. But there’s also a handful of Sunday travelers who take pity on him. 

Two truck drivers manage to get their rigs off onto the shoulder and then mosey their way over to see if they can help Steve identify why the RV is smoking. A woman in a mini-van full of preteens in sports jerseys offers him an entire ice chest full of snacks for Mabel and Ollie. Some good Samaritan even makes the half-mile hike to the nearest pay phone to call for a tow truck so Steve doesn’t have to leave the kids or make the track himself with them following behind him. 

Forty-five minutes later, they all climb into a yellow taxi while Winnie the Winnebago gets towed away. For a moment, he thinks he’s ruined the entire vacation, but listening to Mabel and Ollie talk about how cool it was to watch the “toe man” do his job eases the guilt. 

Unfortunately, the repair shop is nowhere near as exciting as standing in the middle of I-15 — at least, that’s what Ollie tells Steve five minutes after they’ve walked into the garage. Steve tries his best to keep everyone’s spirits up in between filing out paperwork and bargaining with the mechanic over the price of the repairs. He lets the kid raid the vending machine and spread it all out on the worn plastic chairs in the makeshift lobby like some kind of five-star buffet. It’s mainly cookies and chips, a few candy bars, and a granola bar Mabel even generously spent $1.10 on for him. 

It’s not the worst meal they’ve had on the trip — that honor goes to the gas station in Kearney, Nebraska, and the hot dogs he knew were a bad idea — but it’s definitely the least nutritious. And, in hindsight, it’s not the best idea now that Mabel and Ollie are hyped up on sugar in a small space with no central air conditioning. He gets it. He’s almost at his wit’s end, too, and he has several decades of patience over them. 

He’s hot and tired and so frustrated, he’d break down and cry if he could, but he doesn’t want to upset the kids or ruin the day more than it’s already been ruined. Instead, he puts on his brave Dad Face™, leaves his pager number with the mechanic’s receptionist, and takes the kids to explore Las Vegas. 

The city wasn’t on their list. It’s not kid-friendly, and the July heat is anything but welcoming, but thankfully, they luck out and stumble across a hybrid game and music store a few blocks away from the repair shop.

The bell above their door announces their entrance to the quiet storefront as the sweet, sweet relief of the AC hits them. Steve closes his eyes, soaking in the cool air for a moment before Mabel and Ollie are tugging on his hands, trying to drag him in different directions. 

Steve knows he should put an end to their bickering that borders on full-on sibling bullying, especially judging by the way they’ve dropped his hand in favor of pinching each other’s arms, but he gets distracted when a figure emerges from the back of the shop. 

The footsteps are uneven, which makes sense when an ornate cane enters Steve’s line of sight. He studies it, taking in the impressive woodwork and paint job — Max’s own can is pretty spectacular, but this one is a close second. Soon, his eyes drift from the cane to the hand holding it, a ring on each finger. Silver and gaudy and eerily similar to—

“Holy shit,” the voice says. “Are my eyes giving out on me too, or is Steve Harrington really standing in my shop right now?” 

Steve’s eyes shoot up to meet the man’s face — to meet Eddie’s face. It’s been years, shit, almost a decade he thinks, but Eddie looks the same. Older, sure. A few wrinkles around his eyes and a softer belly. But he’s still him. Unruly curls barely contained in a bun at the base of his neck, mischievous eyes, and a smile that makes Steve’s stomach flip in a way it hasn’t done in too long. Yup, definitely him.

“Eddie?”

Eddie laughs, throwing his head back with the same carelessness as he had at twenty years old. Only this time, when he rights himself, he has to reach a hand up to his neck to massage the ache. “Man, this is some cosmic, universe shit!” 

“At least it’s the good kind this time,” Steve jokes. 

Eddie goes for a full-on hug, Steve an awkward side one, and as a result, they end up with their bodies smushed against each other, arms pinned between each other in the world’s worst hug of all time. But it’s also the greatest, as far as Steve’s concerned. 

When they separate, Eddie gives Steve a quick once-over before shaking his head again. “So, what brings you all the way to Sin City?” 

“A family road trip.” 

“Ah, so the six nuggets and a Winnebago dream came true, then?” Eddie muses. 

“More like two nuggets, a piece of shit rental that’s in a repair shop after crapping out on me on I-15, and a co-pilot that doubles as my son’s emotional support stuffed animal,” Steve says, then smiles. “But I can’t complain.” 

“Wheeler never jumped on the Harrington Express?” 

Steve’s interrupted by Ollie running at him with a vinyl record thrust above his head. Mabel appears a moment later, holding a giant box in her arms that’s clearly too heavy for her. She passes it to Steve, who hands it over to Eddie, who has taken refuge behind the glass counter. As soon as the kids appear, they’re gone again. Steve shouts after them to stay together and not to touch anything. It goes in one ear and out the other if the loud crash that follows a moment later is anything to go off of. Steve winces and looks at Eddie apologetically. 

“I promise I’ll pay for whatever they break. They’re a little stir-crazy from being stuck at the repair shop all day.” 

Eddie doesn’t look worried about it in the slightest. In fact, Steve’s willing to bet he didn’t even hear the crash, judging by the fond look on his face. It’s a soft smile, almost bittersweet if he had to put a name to it. It looks out of place on his face — almost too earnest, which makes no sense because Eddie is the most earnest guy Steve’s ever known. 

“Eddie?” 

“Huh, what?” Eddie blinks himself back to the present. When he shakes his head, the elastic holding his hair back snaps, sending his curls cascading down to his shoulders. It’s easy now to see the hints of gray peppered into the locks that used to keep Steve up at night — occasionally still keeps him up. 

Steve gestures toward the row where Mabel and Ollie are frantically trying to restack things on the shelves. This time, Eddie snorts and meets Steve's gaze with that familiar crooked smile. 

“Don’t worry about them. S’just boxes and shit.” 

Steve nods and then grabs a pen out of the cup on the glass counter. He twirls it between his fingers, something about the rhythmic motion calming the silly nerves running wild in his body right now. 

It’s just Eddie. 

“Nance would kill you for even thinking she’s a part of this circus,” Steve says, then panics. “To answer your question from before. No misses at all actually. Or misters either,” Steve says before he chickens out. 

Eddie left before he realized that little fun fact about himself. It was ironic (and tragic), considering he’s the reason Steve even realized it to begin with. Chalk it up to cosmic, universe shit — the bad kind that time. 

“Cause that could be an option to, you know. Obviously you know, but it’s an option for me too in case you didn’t know and—“

“Woah, breathe, Steve.” 

Steve takes a slow, deep inhale. His exhale is strong enough to send a few of Eddie’s stray curls fluttering before settling back amongst the rest. “Sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing!” Eddie throws his hand across the counter, squeezing Steve’s wrist, 

It’s silly, but something about the simple touch relaxes the nervous energy that’s taken over him ever since Eddie emerged from the back. A part of Steve wants to blame the relief on the touch, but he knows better. Knows it has everything to do with finally telling Eddie about this part of him he helped him discover. 

Steve’s been out to just about everyone he cares about, and now he’s certain he’s told them all. 

“So no misses or misters,” Eddie says, before hiding his growing smile behind a curl. “What about Buckley? Is she on the great American family road trip with you?” 

“Robin refuses to get into Winnebagos after, well, you know.” 

“Can’t say I blame her for that one.” 

“It’s just me and the kids. Mabel and Ollie. They’re my kids…I mean, well, obviously, they’re mine, and anyone who says they’re not are fucking idiots, but they’re not blood mine or whatever people say.” Christ, he’s rambling again. “I adopted them. Actually, I was supposed to be their temporary foster parent. I was in my second year as a social worker, and they were two and six months old when they came in the middle of a Saturday night and we had no one on standby. They came home with me, and then they just never left.” 

Somewhere in his rambling, Eddie made himself comfortable, pillowing his chin on his hands, elbows sinking into the giant mouse pad that’s stretched out on top of the glass counter. He’s dropped the curl, his bright smile on full display, dimple, and everything when he looks at Steve now. 

“I love a good foster fail story,” he cooed. “I have a few myself. Fosters that turned into full-on adoptions. I mean not human kids, cats. And a few dogs. Even a bird. But they’re my kids, you know. I mean, not that what you did is the same thing as me or anything, but I… I’m just going to stop talking now.”

This time, it’s Steve's hand that breaks the barrier between them, reaching out to pat Eddie on the shoulder. A reassuring thing that he hopes conveys that he’s not offended. Just in case, he spells it out for him verbally too. 

“I get it. Kids mean a lot of things to different people. If you say they’re your kids, they’re your kids,” he says, smiling. “Robin has a plant, Ferguson. When she first got it she carried it around in Ollie’s baby bjorn because she needed to ‘bond’ with it.” 

Eddie laughs, this time hard enough that the case between them vibrates. “Lesbians, and their plants, man.” 

“She rescued it from her ex, who was drowning it.” 

“We’re just all patron saints of lost things, aren’t we?” 

“Guess so.” Steve smiles, then adjusts his own stance so he’s leaning against the counter. Something pops in his back, and for once, he doesn’t make an excuse. Eddie knows all about their aches and pains — the way their bodies are thirty years older than they should be, thanks to their teenage years. He runs a steady hand through his hair, hoping beyond hope that it’s not as greasy as it feels and then turns his attention to Eddie. “What about you? Game and record store sounds like a pretty sweet deal.” 

Eddie blows out air in a whoosh and reaches for another curl. “I mean, yeah, it’s pretty cool. Closest I could get to being a rockstar, I guess.” 

“Do you still play?” 

“Occasionally. There’s a dive bar a few streets over that I perform sometimes. No band, though. At least, not yet. I’m giving myself a few more years; let the gray really come in,” Eddie says, fluffing his curls. “And then I’ll join one of those mid-life crisis dad bands.” 

“Solid plan.” He fiddles with the pen again, contemplating if he should ask what he wants, too. Screw it. Who knows when he’s going to see Eddie again — if it’ll ever happen again. It’s best not to leave anything on the table. “What about a partner?” 

“Me?” Eddie asks, pointing to himself before laughing. “Nope. No partner. No lovers either, really. It’s just me and the petting zoo. And Wayne, when the old man makes the trip out to visit me.” 

Eddie being alone all these years shouldn��t make Steve happy. He should want him to be settled by now, grossly in love with someone who makes him feel special like he deserves. But Steve’s heart is a traitor, and his brain is no better, already imagining ten different ways he could change that. 

Had he known Eddie’s been in Vegas alone all this time, he would have visited a lot sooner. Hell, he would have made this their final destination — he’s sure he could find something family-friendly here for Mabel and Ollie. There’s a lake around here or some shit, right? They could have—

“Shit,” Steve says, reaching for his beeping pager. The repair shop number appears on the small screen. “Could I borrow your phone? This is the repair shop.” 

“I suppose I could make an exception on my no-customers rule,” Eddie teases. “Phones in my office, straight back there.” 

Steve nods and rounds the counter towards the backroom but stops short. The kids. He almost forgot about the kids. “Do you mind keeping an eye on them?” Steve asks, tilting his head to Mabel and Ollie who have finally picked up the mess they created. 

“Of course! Don’t worry about them. I’m great with kids.” 

“I remember.” 

___

Eddie’s office isn’t unlike his teenage bedroom Steve spent many nights in. It has his typical brand of messiness but with an added layer of professionalism. Like, there’s an honest-to-God filing cabinet in the corner, but next to it is a three-foot-tall Yoda statue.  Papers lay haphazardly on the desk beside a calculator. 

There are posters all over the walls — some Steve recognizes, some he doesn’t — and endless photographs in mismatched frames. At least three wallet-sized frames with pictures of his pets — kids — sit on the desk. There’s one of Wayne and Eddie on his graduation day on the bookshelfnbeside photos of him with Dustin and some of the other kids over the years. 

He even spots himself amongst the familiar faces — a polaroid they took one summer in Hawkins. It feels like a lifetime ago, but a part of Steve remembers what it was like to have Eddie’s arm slung around him like that with the sun beating down their faces, causing them to squint in the photo because Jonathan refused to shoot directly into the sunlight. 

Steve gives himself another second to soak in Eddie’s office, searching for any other details he can find to fill in the years he’s missed — a pride flag draped over a chair, his business license framed on the wall, packs of half-used nicotine gum instead of cartons of cigarettes. Finally, he makes it to the phone and punches in the number of the repair shop. 

___

When Steve resurfaced twenty minutes later, the neon “open” sign that flickered in the window had been shut off. Eddie’s abandoned his post behind the counter, taking up space at a table in the game section of the store. Mabel and Ollie are sitting on either side of him, listening intently with wide eyes as he moves two figures across a board toward a hoard of waiting miniature figures. 

“I leave you for twenty minutes, and you’re already corrupting them with your nerd games?” Steve teases, ruffling both Mabel and Ollie’s hair in the process. 

Eddie scoffs. “You expect me to believe Dustin hasn’t put them through D&D boot camp yet? Please.” 

“Your stories are nothing like Dustin’s,” Ollie says, voice full of awe. 

“Yeah, he always wants to skip the fun adventure stuff and get straight to the battles,” Mabel chimes in. “That's why we like it when Daddy gets to be in charge.” 

Eddie’s head swivels so fast that the irrational part of Steve’s brain fears it’s going to fly right off. “You DM for them?” 

 “I wouldn’t call it Dungeon Master-ing,” Steve says, grabbing the back of his neck. The room feels ten times hotter all of a sudden. The AC must have shut off, he reasons. There’s no other explanation for his sudden flush. Not at all. “I really just make sh— stuff up.” 

“He’s the best make-believer! You should play with us sometime. Like tonight!” 

“Mabel, Eddie’s busy running this store; he can’t just stop to play with you. And besides, we have to get going soon.” 

“They fixed Winnie?” Ollie asks, jumping up from his seat. 

Steve sighs. “Not yet. That’s why we have to leave. I need to find somewhere for us to sleep tonight that’s—

“—I have a guest room.”

Steve blinks. Is Eddie offering his place to them? His hearing may be spotty lately, but he’s never imagined entire phrases before. Which means—

“I mean if you want,” Eddie says sheepishly this time. “I have a hoard of kittens running around right now, so if you’re allergic, it might not be the best place but—“

“Kittens!” Mabel squeals before rapidly asking Eddie a hundred questions about them, but he doesn’t stand a chance of answering. 

“Can’t we stay at his house, Daddy?” 

“I really do have a spare bedroom and bathroom. Plus, a couch and a semi-stocked fridge. And I wouldn’t charge you. The hotels around here are going to sense your need and charge you an arm and a leg, trust me.”

Steve would be stupid to turn it down. A free stay in an actual house. A meal he can cook with his own two hands that don’t involve a shitty stove that gives out after a few minutes. Not to mention, a shower with actual hot water. 

Plus, it comes with the added bonus of a few more hours with Eddie. Yeah, there’s not a chance in hell he’s turning that down. Not again. 

“Alright, yeah. Let’s do it.” Mabel and Ollie shout in excitement, spinning around the table. Eddie might not have the same energy level as them to join them, but his smile says it all. 

“It’ll be just like old times.” 

“Wait! You guys know each other?”

Steve laughs first, but soon Eddie’s cackle joins him and it really does feel like old times again. “Of course, I know him. What? You think I would let us stay in a stranger’s house? Don’t you know me at all?” 

___

Three days later, Steve finds himself behind the wheel of Winnie the Winnebago as she makes her grand return to I-15. When he glances over his shoulder as the traffic crawls for miles in front of him, he spots Mabel and Ollie throwing Fruit Loops at each other to see who can catch the most in their mouth. And when he looks to his right, Eddie’s there — feet up on the dash, hands protectively clutching Ollie’s teddy bear as if he’s hoping it offers him the same comfort it does for the six-year-old — handsome as ever.

“Didn’t think I’d ever be back in one of these,” he says fondly. “Especially not with you behind the wheel.” 

“Really?” Steve lets the corners of his lips twitch upward. Doesn’t try to fight the blush he knows is creeping across his cheeks. “‘Cause this is all I’ve thought about for years.” 

[emelinstriker]

Shockwave ♤ Kiss The Spark

Might be my last TFP X Reader one-shot I'm dropping for now. I've got several other one-shots and even a full book that was in the works, but whenever I'll finish any, I have no idea.

[TL;DR] You really do be worrying your beloved cyclops scientist with the risks you take. And he finds it illogical.

♤ ~ Comfort ~ ♤

It was a lazy day for the two of you. Megatron was busy leading the Decepticon cause, as usual, and left Shockwave to his tools. Said mech was trying to work on basically recreating a predacon while you were watching him. It did make him a little uncomfortable with how you were basically staring at him, but he would never out right say it.

You were just supposed to be a random human he could study and experiment on after you were kidnapped by Knockout months ago. But now you were the lover of the warship's scientist. Basically his Conjunx Endura, and he did show some affection towards you while feeling some sort of emotion despite having undergone shadowplay. At first it felt like you were treated like a pet, which you technically were in the Decepticon's optic, but it was obvious he was lying to himself over time as you began to worm your way into his spark.

Despite the months of love and care, he slowly started neglecting you due to the cause being his main priority. Sure, he did give you food and your own box corner that felt like a small apartment, but his affection towards you decreased and you were missing it. You were missing the freetime you had and spent simply roaming around the Nevada desert whenever you landed. You wanted to relive that.

"Hey, Shocky?" He didn't bother turning around to face you as he continued working, not answering. But you knew he was listening. "When do you have time to hang out again?" You asked with a hopeful gaze at the back of his helm.

He ceased his movements for a moment, turned his optic toward you and said, "Most likely when I am finished with this project. I do not know how long it will take. It would be most logical of you to simply wait."

You frowned at his response and started to make your way towards the door. "Oh, okay... I'll leave you to it then..." The giant metal doors slid opened for you and closed once you passed the threshold. Shockwave knew you left but didn't bother stopping you as the project took priority. However, that doesn't mean he didn't feel more empty when you were out of the room.

And it finally seemed too much after two agonizing hours of not having you around him. He told himself he would do a quick check-up on you to ensure you were all fine. So, he left the project on his table before making his way to the bridge where he knew Soundwave would possibly still be with you.

Unsurprisingly, he was right. Well, half right. Soundwave was at the bridge, but you were nowhere to be found. Of course there had to be a reason for it, and who would know better than the slender mech himself. "Soundwave," the cyclops started as he approached the other working Decepticon, "where is (Y/N)?"

The TIC ceased his movements before typing away again, revealing groundbridge coordinates on the screen. The coordinates seemed to lead into town, close to a few stores but far away enough for a small groundbridge to go undetected. Soundwave turned his helm towards the mech behind him as he slightly lifted a servo at the screen to point at it. Shockwave gave him a puzzled look- Or at least as puzzled as one could look with a single optic for a faceplate. "Why did you send them there?"

Instead of answering with more movements, Soundwave decided to simply play a voice clip he recorded of you in your own words. "Hey, Sounders, could I maybe go to town? I need to see if I can buy some material for [...]. I know it sounds weird, but hear me out-" The audio abruptly cut of before you could explain any further. And there was information missing, most likely to keep whatever you were planning a secret from the scientist. It seemed illogical for you to be plotting something behind his back however. Thus he didn't question the TIC any further about the audio.

"When will they return?" Soundwave played another clip in response, "I'll call you when I got everything, alright? Shouldn't take more than two hours max."

And as if on cue, a sudden personalized ringtone rang out on the bridge with an image of you on the screen. Their optics glanced at the screen before Soundwave answered the call. You sounded like you were out of breath. And Shockwave was able to feel your anxiety through your bond.

"H-Heya, Sounders!" You dramatically exhaled a large portion of air before continuing in a rather quick way. "Please don't tell Shocky, but I kinda ran into some trouble and am being chased by a gang with weapons. I managed to escape unscathed, but I sadly didn't get some other things." You took another deep breath. "And as much as I wanna grab some extras, I don't think I'd be alive on my way back if I did that. At least I got enough for one."

As both mechs became concerned, Shockwave decided to speak up. "(Y/N), are you in a safe location? Do you require a groundbridge immediately?"

The voice caught you by surprise, but you were also a little relieved to hear him. "I-I'm not far enough from people yet. I'm across the street from the gang right now and they seem to have lost me. But there's an alleyway here." You then proceeded to walk down the dark alley. "I don't think there's a second gang in here so I should be-" You cut yourself off as you looked behind you with wide eyes. The fear you gave off reached the scientist instantly.

"(Y/N)? Are you alright? What happened?" Your sudden silence made them even more worried. The silence wasn't there for long though as harsh winds clashed with your phone, indicating that you were running.

"They found me! I-I can't run any longer! My bags are- are slowing me down! And they want my bags and my money! But I need them! And whAT THE FUCK- WHY?!"

Turns out the alley had a deadend.

The two mechs could faintly hear one guy say something, but it was inaudible. But they could hear one who was closer. "You're right. Why should we just take their belongings if we could have some fun with them as extra?"

While the cyclops was able to feel your hopeless anxiety already, the call managed to catch the sounds of your sniffles. You hiccuped as you whispered into your phone, "I need you, Shockwave." You usually weren't scared of most things- Hell, you made a giant alien robot fall in love with you and managed to befriend others on the warship, deeming them as family! And they wanted to cyberform the earth! But being in this situation, alone, far away from your family, with just some useless things you bought... It scared you.

And this was something that truly angered Shockwave for once. The fact that you used his actual name instead of a nickname told him how trapped you truly felt.

It sent him over the edge.

"Soundwave. Groundbridge to their coordinates. Now", he commanded firmly.

The masked mech, despite being kind of surprised by the taller mech's sudden show of emotions, did as he was told. The scientist didn't waste time in running towards the now open swirly green portal. He didn't even bother transforming and using his holoform.

These humans deserved to suffer.

By his true form's servos.

You were backed up into the deadend when you noticed a familiar green light pop up behind you. Out of instinct you moved aside as the gang stared at it, not knowing if this were special effects to scare them off. That's when you saw Shockwave step out of the portal. He took a moment to take in his surroundings before spotting you next to his pedes, shivering from shock, but still smiling up at him with teary eyes. "H-Hi, hun..."

"Go home, sweetspark. I'll meet you there."

He said. Then he watched as you somewhat clumsily sprinted through the groundbridge, two bags in hand, before he turned back towards the group of humans.

"It would be illogical of me not to dispose of lifeforms that pose a threat to my sparkmate."

What was mercy? In that moment, he couldn't recall.

While waiting, you were next to Soundwave, being comforted by his tendrils as you held onto one like a big teddy bear. Your bags were sitting behind you. Shockwave finally returned a few minutes later, groundbridge closing behind him. His servo and pedes were completely bloody. You also spotted a bit of blood on the rest of his frame- even a tiny bit on the side of his helm. He walked up to your still slightly shaken form. "Did they harm them in any way?" He asked the other mech, who previously ran a scan on you as safety precaution.

Soundwave responded with a simple "Negative" audio as he retracted his tendrils from you, now that your biggest comfort was here. You reluctantly let go of the tendril when a servo gently wrapped itself around you instead, picking you up. The purple mech didn't say another word to the shorter mech and simply walked off, all the while placing you on his shoulder pad. Sure, you were now a little bloody too, but you could just wash your clothes. While Shockwave felt the comforting relief through your bond, he still was upset about your reckless logic.

"You left the ship without my authorization or knowledge." Most would view his monotone yet commanding voice as a sign of pure anger, but you knew that he was actually worried sick.

"B-But I-" "You could have been hurt and I would not have been able to protect you. From now on, you are to stay on the warship if I'm.not accompanying you", he stated firmly, placing you on the table and coldly turning away towards his project.

Now that you were finally back in the lab, he wouldn't need to worry about you being hurt anymore, despite his spark not wanting to shut up about the slight bit of worry. However, due to you still being upset about the previous situation, you couldn't help but tear up again. You honestly didn't mean to make him mad and worried. He could feel it.

"I-I'm so s-sorry", you whispered as you hiccuped. "I-I just w-wanted to make y-you a gift..."

This caught the scientist's attention as his ear fins moved. A gift... for him? You went through the lengths of sneaking out(, despite Soundwave's knowledge of course), going to town alone, and running away from a street gang... just to make him a gift? So, naturally he demanded for an explanation for this stunt you tried to do.

You pulled your bags closer to your body as you sniffled, rummaging through one of them. "I-I bought materials f-for a self-made gift..." You then pulled out some purple fabric from the bag. Almost the same shade of purple as his frame. "I-It was supposed to be a plush toy version... of you..." A small, sheepish smile made its way onto your lips. The tears may have stopped flowing, but you still didn't feel quite comfortable in what you were presenting him. It wasn't even finished, after all. And you weren't even sure if he would like it.

"Giving me a toy version of myself is illogical." For a second, a frown replaced your smile. Thinking he didn't like the idea, you slowly starting lowering your arm in disappointment, wanting to put the fabric away again so he wouldn't have to see it.

"O-Oh, sorry... I thought-" "But, I appreciate the sentiment", Shockwave quickly added as he approached you with his servo. One digit gently trailed up and down your arm in a comforting manner. "You may still continue creating it. I am not stopping you." Him using a gentler, lower tone made you smile again. You wrapped your arms around his digit and lightly cuddled into it, saying a small "Thanks" in return.

You swore your Conjunx's optic was glowing brighter than usual.

You managed to craft a rather big plush version of Shockwave. You were able to wrap both of your arms around it and cuddle with it like a big stuffed animal. It was still severely small in the scientist's optic, but he refused to handle it any less gentle than you when picking it up. It was so much softer than you, which amazed him.

A few days after you finished up the plushie, Shockwave asked you to wait for him in his habsuite.

Turns out he wanted you to touch his spark again. It's been a long time since you've last done so, which was when you became Conjunx Endura just a couple of months ago. And due to the bond mostly being a one-sided receiving one, he wanted to show you how much he appreciated you in his life. And touching his spark was the only way for you to receive his side of the bond.

You're the only one he's ever shown his spark to in such an intimate light. And you could feel how much he adored having you be this close to him, touching the very culmination of his being ever so gently. You even gave his spark some light kisses, making him ex-vent.

Content with your moment together, he gently positioned his servo against your small back, pulling you a little closer down onto his chassis.

He wouldn't trade you for anything, not even his loyalty to Megatron and the Decepticon cause.

[ Masterlist ]

[magiturge]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ok. go my old man yaori.

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

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

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