#leading cargo companies

[asiancargo]

Cargo Company Abu Dhabi

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At Asian Cargo, we understand that each client has unique shipping needs, which is why we offer tailored solutions that are designed to meet their specific requirements. Whether you need to ship small or large volumes of cargo, we have the capacity to handle it all, with a range of transportation options to suit your needs. Our transparent pricing and commitment to quality service ensure that our clients receive the best cargo services in Abu Dhabi.We take pride in our reputation as one of the leading cargo companies in Abu Dhabi. Our commitment to excellence has earned us the trust and loyalty of our clients, who rely on us for their shipping needs. Contact us today via phone on 0508002139 or email at info@asiancargo.ae to experience our exceptional cargo services and see why we are one of the most trusted cargo companies in Abu Dhabi.

[satyamcargomovers]

Movers and packers in Dwarka sector-1

[umamaki]

ELECTRIC TOUCH

caleb's hurting, and the only thing he needs your help with is distracting him from his pain.

l&ds caleb x reader

CW BIONIC CALEB SEX, female reader, explicit smut, porn with plot, lowkey angsty lol, he’s in pain, handjob, accidental orgasm denial lol, language, fingering with bionic arm, spanking with bionic arm, lowkey temperature play, not fisting but we get close, praise, pet names, squirting, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, playing with squirt idk, lmk what i miss, proofread once. wc 2.2k

NOTE almost died twice but here it is. thank you transformers fanfic for preparing me for this exact moment. somewhat. i started this an hour after the trailer came out so it’s very inspired but with some creative liberties 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕. i hope this fic is ok idk idk idkkk. ambivalent towards the plot bc i needed something to lead up to the smut and give it some SUBSTANCE. n idk anything about science robotics engineering. those are all just words to me. something about calebmc that makes me put some sort of angst into everything i write for them. making him right handed so then he can’t jork it without ur help 🥹lol jork it

gif divider

Caleb’s temperament had always brought out the concern in you. Something’s changed recently; gradually, but surely. He’s always tired, but also always restless. He’s neither quite enthusiastic, nor ever snappy towards you. You aren’t able to pinpoint the moment that the shift occurred. 

So naturally, you’re concerned when you find out he’s now in the hospital for some repair. Some malfunction or breakdown? Unusual, but worrying nonetheless. You knew anything was possible with the Farspace Fleet. 

You find yourself before an abandoned—perhaps repurposed, warehouse. The lot was empty save for stacked cargo bins, and there wasn’t any visible light coming from inside. No signs of life. Anyone else with half a mind would turn away for their own safety, but you aren’t thinking about yourself right now; it was caleb who is in need, he’s the reason you’re here and the reason you advance further into the property. 

You nearly miss the small door around the back of the building. It blends into the wall, clearly not meant to be noticed by a regular person. Whatever was going on here was private, illegal even. It’s unlocked, the door effortlessly swings open when you push down the handle. You wonder if it’s a trap. But no one greets you when you step inside, you only come face to face with what seems to be dozens of projects involving heavy machinery and tools that you can’t quite name. The smell of burnt metal stings your nose. 

There’s something different about the air in here; your gut is telling you that Caleb is close, it’s a feeling you can’t ignore. You proceed down a corridor, the cold concrete walls keeping you company, though unwelcoming. You’re cautious for anything lurking around, but there’s no feeling of being watched. So far, the place is empty. 

And then you hear it, a hiss of pain followed by a low curse.

“Caleb?” 

You pull back the curtain separating you and the sight is otherworldly, almost monstrous, had it not been on the boy you attach all your childhood memories to. He looks all jacked up, which is worrying in itself, but you were more so focused on the piece of biotechnology that was there in place of his entire right arm. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” He speaks with his back to you, but the pain in his voice is unmistakable; you don’t need to see his face to know how he was feeling. You’re speechless, confused, but most of all scared for him. “But you’ve already come, it’s not safe to go back alone, but… I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I swear I—”

“Does it hurt?” You interrupt. You interrupt him because his explanation means less to you than his well-being. You’re already at his bedside when his head follows the sound of your voice, you lock eyes, then lower yours to take in the image of the man before you. 

He spares a small smile, you were always so worried for him. “No, I barely feel anything, really. It doesn’t hurt more than it’s unfamiliar.”

It isn’t sincere. He’s reassuring you and telling you that he’s fine but here he is sitting alone on a warehouse cot, covered in bruises and bandages and only then do you see it for what it is. Because if it’s not physically, which you know it is, then he has to be hurting emotionally. A part of your heart breaks for him; you can’t help but let tears blur your vision. It’s not that you pity him, but it’s as if his pain is becoming yours too. 

“Oh, Caleb.”

“C’mere, baby.” He pulls you onto his lap and lets you cry into his left shoulder, holding you close with that same arm. You stay there for a while, listening to the beat of his heart and matching your breathing to his. “I can’t feel you anymore, you know, not from my right side.” The words tug at your heartstrings. He flexes his fingers as if testing them for the first time. He feels nothing.

You pick up the dog tags resting on his chest and press them onto his heart. The warmth from his body transfers to the metal charms and then to where your fingers still pressed on them. He shakes his head.

“I need you, all of you. It’s useless,” he’s weak with desire and it kills him that he can’t do anything about it. 

You place both palms on his cheeks and press your lips hard onto his, “you feel me now, Caleb?” He only nods in response, his pupils are blown wide and he’s turned into putty in your hold. Your fingers lightly travel across the expanse of his exposed chest, drawing out goosebumps from his skin. You pause where his skin meets the waistband of his pants. “How about this?”

He hisses, and it’s different from before. Pleasure has replaced the discomfort he once felt. “Yeah, baby. Keep going just like that, don’t stop.”

You slot your lips to his again, this time with intense passion. His left hand makes its way underneath your shirt to hold the curve of your waist, keeping you close, while his right hand goes to free the tent in his pants. He gives his hard cock a few pumps with the hand to temporarily relieve the ache, but eventually gives up, a groan of discomfort slips from his mouth and into yours. 

You look down at his neglected boner and put the pieces together. “Lemme help,” without waiting for his response, your thumb begins to spread his leaking precum around the tip of his dick.

His hips instinctually jerk up into your hand and he chokes on his spit. “D’tease me, darling, please. I’m weak n vulnerable. S’basically torture,” he begs, his brain is malfunctioning, only filled with the thought of your hands on his length. 

Even in his most painful moments he manages to be insufferable. Okay, maybe you’ll allow it just this one time. Your fingers wrap around his heavy cock, jacking him off the same way you know he likes it. 

“That’s good. Hahh—feels s’good, fuck,” you both continue your pace, him rutting uncontrollably into your palm and your hand sliding along his length. 

“Still don’t hurt?”

“Only hurts when you stop,” his moans echo around the concrete room, he’s not holding back at all, showing you exactly how good you’re making him feel. His dick twitches in your hand as he gets closer to his release; you don’t plan on stopping. 

Then suddenly, a loud whirring noise followed by screeching metal from behind him interrupts the symphony of moans. You immediately pull away and jolt backwards, startled, eyes wide out of fear that you hurt him, took it too far. Though, he catches you before you fall. 

Orgasm denied, the unexpected loss of contact makes him whimper, but nonetheless he comforts you. “Hey hey, look at me. You’re okay, baby. I’m okay, see?” He bends his bionic arm, faking another smile.

But it’s not okay, you realize. You’re not used to this and you were too caught up in the moment. You know he’s hiding his own fear to protect you, console you. He shouldn’t have to. This shouldn’t be your shared reality. 

“S’not okay, Caleb. Don’t like it one bit.” You begin to pout again, eyes welling up. 

“I know baby, I know.” His hands grip your waist, thumbs massaging circles on your stomach, “I’ll make it better, promise. Here,” his mechanical fingers rub the wetness between your legs and you moan his name. The appendages are rock solid as they press harder against your clothed cunt, providing you with some much needed friction. You hold onto his shoulders to not fall; your knees are planted beside each of his thighs but in this moment you feel like your legs are made of jelly.

“Can’t even feel how wet you are, what a shame.” Your pants and underwear are pulled down simultaneously with a single tug, exposing your soaked cunt to face. “What a pretty little thing you’re hiding, hm? Gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod. He starts slow, inserting only a single digit into your hole. It’s cold, intrusive, but not unwelcome. The smooth metal strokes your walls from the inside, eliciting more sweet sounding moans from your lips. He soon adds another finger into you, and another, filling you up to the brim with the artificial appendages. 

“Mmpf—s’too much,” you wriggle in Caleb’s hold but he keeps you still with the strength of his left arm. 

He clicks his tongue in disapproval and your eyes fly open to meet his. It contrasts the praise you were receiving only moments before, and this felt like a step back. You want to make him proud again, “tsk, you can handle one more, can’t you?” 

So you agree. You agree even when all four of his fingers are fully inserted and you don’t think you’ll be able to stretch to accommodate anything else. You’re out of breath from the arduous feat, using all of your restraint to not clench down on his tendrils. 

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead. “There you go. Good girl. Knew you could.” Slowly he slides his fingers out, then back inside. “You like this?” Yes, “want me to stop?” No.

Caleb easily reaches your g spot, assaulting your sensitive spot over and over. He alternates between fast and slow, teasing you, slowing down when you’re feeling good and speeding up again only once you’ve already adjusted to the tempo. You feel the coils in your stomach tighten, his steel thumb catches onto your clit, stimulating you to the extreme. 

“Caleb—haah, gunna come,” you mewl in between pants. 

He sets brutal momentum. “Yeah? Come for me baby, come on my fingers. That’s it.” He reconnects his mouth to yours and that’s all it takes.

Your climax crashes over you; you convulse around him and his fingers, screaming out in pleasure. You allow your body to fully relax as he finger-fucks you through your orgasm. You don’t even notice the clear liquid gushing from your pussy until you hear it, squelching flesh on flesh. You look down. Caleb’s hand and his entire lap is covered in your slick but he’s smiling. He thinks it made him even harder. 

Both of you stare at the squirt-covered mechanism on his arm. Neither knowing if the threat of electrocution will arise. Answer seems to be no.

Hes out of breath and looking at you like you’re his world, “holy shit, baby. That was fucking hot. Think you can do that again? Squirt on my cock like that?”

“Still so sensitive,” and it’s true, you were, but aroused more than anything, “gonna try, though.”

“Atta girl. C’mere.” He scoots back on the cot so you’ll be able to sit on his lap comfortably. You take his dick and sheathing it smoothly to the hilt, still stretched out from his fingers. The feeling of him being completely inside evokes synchronous moans from the both of you. 

Both his hands find their place on your ass, beginning to move you up and down. You let him maneuver you, using his biceps to steady yourself. It doesn’t take long until you feel the heat pooling in your lower stomach again. This time he feels it too, the way your pussy clenches around his cock, the way your heat grows increasingly hotter. He runs a cold metallic finger down your spine, soothing you in the process.

“Come f’me darlin’, squirt all over my cock like you just did on my fingers. Do it.” You whimper at the authoritative tone in his voice and follow his command nonetheless, coming undone to his relentless stamina. Your second round of squirt spills onto the floor and ruins the sheets but Caleb doesn’t care, he’s preoccupied with chasing his own high. 

“Caleb, Caleb, Caleb,” his name repeats from your mouth like a mantra, the only word in your vocabulary, it seems.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” He grunts in your ear, each thrust serving as punctuation. 

Your essence mixes with his when he finally fills you with his sticky load, keeping his cock snug inside. You’re absolutely spent, post-orgasmic eyes lidded and you rest your forehead on his bare shoulder. 

“Did it work?” You mumble using all the effort you had left.

“Hm? Did what work, love?” He’s spaced out, but still listening, gliding his hand along your spine.

“It distract you enough? Doesn’t hurt anymore?”

His attention comes back when he hears you utter the words. Ah, that.

With his right hand he scoops up a combination of your squirt and his cum. You yelp when he slaps it across your ass; the wet slick reduces friction had the bionic hand been dry. It’s less painful, but you’re already expecting bruises in the morning. He hisses when you instinctually clench down on him. He spanks you again, anyway.

“Nah, I think the pain is already starting to come back. Down for a few more rounds?”

ok thank you for reading. this is the most insane thing i've written. not my proudest work n itd be better if i had another day to think over it but i have never been a patient person. that’s not me excusing anything btw i take all responsibility for this mostrosity

[genshin-impact-updates]

Stalwart Strider

"He sees and hears everything, as if he had the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox, like some kind of mythical beast. Fighting tooth and nail, he drove away bandits and ruffians like devils with all the auspicious momentum of the suanni."

— A plaque of gratitude received by the Sword and Strongbox Secure Transport Agency from a merchant whose caravan was safely escorted by Gaming

◆ Name: Gaming

◆ Title: Leonine Vanguard

◆ "Sword and Strongbox" Transport Guard

◆ Vision: Pyro

◆ Constellation: Leo Expergiscens

If you happen to hear the sound of drums and gongs as you're walking through the streets of Liyue Harbor, let your ears lead the way. With a bit of luck, you might just be fortunate enough to witness a performance of Gaming's remarkable Wushou Dance.

When he puts on his mask, he shakes his head and blinks like a waking beast. The vast array of emotions he conjures up, the unpredictable twists and turns... Following his every move with rapture, the audience can't help but cheer and applaud.

"Thank you for your support, everyone! And remember, if someone you know's thinking of booking a Wushou Dance, don't forget to recommend the 'Mighty Mythical Beasts'!"

It's just a shame that, more often than not, he receives nothing but applause in return. But Gaming doesn't let this get to him — he laughs it off, saying that the audience's attention is all the recognition he needs.

Once the crowd has dispersed and his mask is off, Gaming swiftly returns to being a "guard" and thinking of work matters once more: How many cargo shipments still need delivering? Which clients does he need to escort? And so on...

Usually, when there's nothing urgent on, he heads to Xinyue Kiosk to while away the time with some dim sum — a pot of tea, a selection of bite-sized nibbles, and leisurely chatter in the company of good friends.

As a guard, the task of escorting goods from Yilong Wharf to Liyue Harbor couldn't be easier for Gaming. But as the head of the "Mighty Mythical Beasts," his dream of making the Wushou Dance a regular occurrence in Liyue Harbor still has a long, long road ahead of it...

So in the meantime, why not sit and enjoy another cup of tea?

[chamomiletealeaf]

Warnings: afab! fem reader, spanking, dacryphilia, squirting, hair pulling, tiny bit of degredation? Bratty reader

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, Captain?”

You cross your arms and look up at Price during a briefing, standing as if you were taller than him. You had strongly disagreed with a decision he made for a future mission and the rest of the Task Force was staring at you in awe of your sudden assertiveness and attitude towards your superior.

He wanted to go in to take down the Shadow Company and rip them apart from the inside out, sending you in first as bait, and you had argued that would be too obvious something was up. You proposed infiltration would be better, stealthier, and you would go in first and have Gaz lead you around base through the cams until safe for the others to sneak in too.

But Price was not having it with your disagreement and sassy attitude like a spoiled teenager arguing with her dad for not getting something she wants.

“I’m not letting you go in with risk of being caught and killed. Graves is a narcissist, going against him is dangerous. Much easier to pretend you come in peace, alone. It would boost his damned ego.” Price says.

“He’s not fucking stupid. He fooled us all. Only someone as equally dense as him would think that’s a good plan.” You snap back at him.

The 141 stare at you, scared for what Price is gonna say next. His eyebrows raise in disbelief at your insult, and he steps closer, slowly and carefully to you.

“Watch your tongue soldier.” He growls at you through clenched teeth.

And that’s how you got here, looking up at him asking what he’s gonna do about it.

He then grabs you by the back of your neck, spinning you around and pushing you towards the door which he slams open with his free palm, leaving the rest of the team watching in shock at what the hell just happened, and even more so the cliffhanger of not knowing what is going to happen.

Price shoves you into his office, slamming the door behind him and pushing you towards his desk, stumbling over your feet.

“Gonna teach you some fucking manners. What the fuck’s runnin’ through that stubborn little mind of yours that’s got you thinkin’ you can talk to me that way?” He says, caging you in between him and the desk making you lean back while he places his palms on either side of you. His voice dripping with anger.

You don’t break and continue your arguing with him.

“Well maybe if you talked to me before making me the center of some bullshit plan then I’d have some respect for your decisions.” You spit back at him.

He spins you around and slams you against the desk, pressing your cheek into the cold wood of it while your palms fly up onto the desk to catch yourself.

He leans in to your ear, pressing his body flush against yours, one hand in your hair pressing your face into the surface of the desk and another between your shoulder blades to keep you steady.

“Yeah? Well maybe if you weren’t such a fucking brat and learned to watch that pretty little mouth of yours I wouldn’t have to do this would I? But this is what you wanted, wasn’t it.” He whispers darkly into your ear, and you feel yourself throbbing at the way he’s manhandling you and saying such dirty things to you.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamed of this, but you can’t let him know that. No, you were stubborn, you couldn’t let him win that easily.

“Fuck you.” You say through your smushed cheeks, and Price laughs.

“Yeah, bet you wanted that too.” He says amused.

“Gonna teach you a real good fuckin’ lesson yeah? Maybe you’ll learn when to shut your fuckin’ mouth.” He says as he yanks you up by your hair and you hiss.

He pulls you with him behind his desk and he sits in his chair, pulling you down with him and you fall over his lap.

“Yeah that’s it. Over my lap.”

You whine at his roughness and the pain from pulling your hair, still trying to process what’s happening.

Then, Price’s hand yanks your cargos down, leaving you in a cute lacy thong.

“Oh sweetheart, this what you’ve been hidin’ under all this?” He chuckles villainously. “Wonder if what you got under that shirt matches.” He smirks, and all you can do is whine in shock of what he’s doing to you, but fuck did you love every second of it.

His amused tone then turns angry again as he pulls you up by your hair again, forcing you to crane your neck back to look at him, hands gripping his thigh.

“Gonna spank this pretty little ass fuckin’ raw until you apologize to me.” He says, then shoved your head back down to fall over his thigh.

He rubs a hand over your ass, massaging your cheeks and then he lifts his hand up, and forcefully brings it back down.

Smack

The sound of his palm slapping your skin echoes in the small room of his office, and you yelp at the force of it. Price laughs again at your submissiveness.

“Not so chatty now are you?” He says as he lifts his hand back up and you squeeze your eyes shut in preparation of the next spank.

Smack

Price keeps spanking your ass harder and faster until it’s red with his handprint branded onto your ass cheeks, nothing but the sound of your whimpers, the slapping of skin, and his dirty words filling the room. You refuse to give him the apology he wants both because of your stubborn, bratty self, but also because this was making you soak your panties like you never have before. This was a dream come true having your Captain manhandle you and punish you the way you deserved for being so smart-mouthed with him.

“This is what you get, when you fuckin’ smack. backtalk smack. me smack. you get spanked smack. Like you deserve smack. You fucking smack. Little minx.”Smack.

Price delivers three more fast and hard spanks to your ass until he hears you sniffle.

Your head is hanging down over his knee so he can’t see the tears rolling down your cheeks from the pain of Price’s hand smacking your ass repeatedly.

“Aww sweetheart.” He says before he laughs to himself.

“Are those tears? What, you gonna cry from a few little spanks to this pretty little ass?” He asks in mock sympathy with a smirk on his face.

You sniffle again and whimper not answering him, still hiding your face.

He tugs your hair up to see your tear stained pouty face.

“Aww those are tears.” He fakes a frown, mocking your expression.

“You can make this all stop if you just say you’re sorry love.”

“Mm mm” you shake your head, a few more tears escaping your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, making him chuckle darkly again.

“You know.” He says as his hand creeps its way down to your clothed pussy, rubbing right where you were practically gushing out of your thong all over the both of your thighs.

“If you weren’t so wet, or rubbing your little clit all over my knee, I’d believe you didn’t want this to stop from your stubbornness. But I think you like getting spanked don’t you sweetheart?”

You just whine in response and rub your pussy over his knee again, not caring about letting him win anymore. You just wanted him to make you cum now.

He laughs at how pathetic you look and he moves your thong out of the way to stick a finger in your dripping pussy.

“Oh fuck love, you’re even wetter than I fuckin’ thought.” He says as he pumps his finger in and out of you slowly, other hand still gripping your hair so you keep eye contact with him.

“You apologize, and I’ll let you cum. Got it?” He says sternly.

You hesitate for a second, not really wanting to push your pride aside, but you needed to cum. Your pussy was throbbing and leaking so hard you couldn’t even think straight and you felt like it would never stop unless you got to cum.

You nod, and Price starts thrusting his finger in and out again. You hump his knee as your eyes roll back into your head. He lets go of your hair, making your head drop down again so he can spank you as he fingers you.

“Go on sweetheart. Say you’re sorry for being a brat.” He says bringing his palm down over your ass cheek again, making you jolt as he finger fucks you still.

Your mind goes fuzzy as he inserts another finger, his ring and middle finger fitting perfectly snug next to each other as they move in and out your sopping pussy.

You moan loudly at the sudden stretch which makes Price just finger you faster.

“That’s it. Keep rubbing that pussy on my knee. Rock those hips. Fuck you’re so damn tight. Such a pretty ass all marked up with my handprint.”

He remembers why he’s doing this in the first place and grips your hair one last time, pulling you up again.

“Say. It. Or I’ll fucking stop.”

You feel your orgasm get closer and closer and the thought of him stopping was worse than anything in this moment.

You look up at him, mouth open, fucked out look on your face with tears running down your cheeks now from pleasure instead of pain.

“I’m sorry. Fuck John I’m sorry. Just, please don’t stop.” You whimper out pathetically. “I won’t talkback to you again just please, let me cum.”

Price smirks and stops his movements, which makes you whine out loud.

He leans down to your face, licking your tears off your cheek before dragging his tongue up to your ear to whisper: “Good.”

He sits back up and speeds up even faster, fucking you so good with his fingers as you continue to hump his knee. Your hands are gripping his thighs for leverage as you feel yourself at the edge of your release.

“Cum for me. Cum all over my fucking fingers. Show me how sorry you are.” He demands, grip still tight on your hair and fingers pumping in and out faster and faster each time.

“Fuck John I- I’m, I’m cumming fuck-“ you babble out right before you roll your eyes back and squirt all over your bare thighs, Price’s clothed thigh, and his hand as your orgasm rips through your body making your pussy pulse around his fingers.

“Oh fuck sweetheart. Yeah look at that. Soaking my hand, fuck. Squeezing me so good.”

He fingers you through your orgasm, then he lets go of your hair and you drop your head down trying to catch your breath.

Price pulls your now soaked thong back over your pussy and pulls your cargos back up, wiping his hand on his own. He then helps you up to sit on his lap and you curl up on him, leaning your head into his neck.

“How you feelin’ sweetheart?” He asks.

You hum in response, closing your eyes.

“Listen, we can discuss the plan over again. I won’t force you to do anything you’re that uncomfortable doing.” He tells you.

You open your eyes.

“Funny you think I was ever going to listen to you in the first place.” You retort with a smirk.

He laughs.

“God, what am I gonna do with you?” He asks jokingly.

“Well if it’s anything like what you just did, then I’m in full compliance.”

You both laugh and you snuggle back into his chest, both knowing you were definitely going to back talk him again, but also both glad you ever did.

tag: @pearisvlogs

[mistydeyes]

hiiiiiii can you please do a reader who is captain of a all woman force like top 3 military ranks and shes young to and she dates gaz ex

When 141 raid las v they get over powered by shadows and laswell knew this would happen so she calls in reader and her team to help 141 are there thinking fight until you drop until they see soldiers in all black military outfits with masks take down shadows no sweat. And then soap comes up like “thanks man who are you” and she’s like “we’re the widows” and uncovers her mask to reveal she’s a woman…….

I always imagined in the cod world an black widow inspired branch

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND YOU ARE LOVED,GORGEOUS,SMART,WORTHY 💕💕💕

thank you so much for requesting and the kind words! highkey wish they would introduce a group of badass fighter women into the modern warfare universe

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summary: Working behind the scenes is a group of highly trained and focused women. They're only whispers until the 141 is put into a perilous position and require rescuing.

pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, depictions of violence

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"How's that lover boy of yours doing, Angel?" your second-in-command joked. You rolled your eyes as you closed your final page of post-op paperwork. "Probably trying to beat his mates in a push-up contest," you replied, laughing at the thought of Kyle doing anything else. Despite what you thought, Gaz was pinned down in an empty cargo container in the middle of Mexico. While Ghost and Soap provided cover, he was trying to contact Laswell through a majority-busted radio. "Watcher-1, it's Bravo team," he shouted before he heard the broken-up replies from Laswell. Price pulled the radio out of his hands before he took the tiny window of opportunity to respond. "Watcher-1, we need emergency evac," he rapidly said with a hoarse tone, "we need help, Watcher-1." 

Your restful slumber was awoken by a hurried set of knocks on your quarter's door. You hastily jumped out of bed and opened it to reveal a private, standing sheepishly in front of you. "Sorry to wake you ma'am but Chief Station Laswell is online in the conference room and she wants to speak to you," they said hastily and you quickly followed after them, disregarding the current state you were in. An hour later, you, your lieutenant, and sergeants were on a helo to Las Alamas, Mexico. "They say what kind of shit they're in?" Iris, your most junior sergeant, asked over the howling night air and the sound of rotating helicopter blades. "Only that it's Captain Price's men and their last comm came from a storage container," you replied. Your team could tell you were worried and your lieutenant threw an arm around your shoulders. "We'll get them and make sure Sergeant Kyle is safe, Major," she reassured but this did nothing to help the growing pit in your stomach and the pooling sweat in your palms. Why the fuck did you let this happen, Price?

"Evac in 2 hours," the pilot called over the comms and your team dispersed into the rubble of what resembled a base. You used the back of your hand to shield your masked face from the kicked-up sand and dirt. The midnight black balaclavas felt hot against your face but you disregarded the minor discomfort. Countless bodies of the private militia group, the Shadows, littered the ground and you kicked over each body in a fruitless attempt to identify them. "Cargo holds should be 2 clicks to our north," Viper, your lieutenant, directed and you signaled them to follow your lead. You approached cautiously, hiding behind other containers and building rubble as you swept for enemy reinforcements. You looked down to see a cluster of heat signatures heading your way. "Hold on," you directed with a fist in the air, "we got company." The group stopped on your command and you quickly devised a plan, "Iris and Artemis, you take overwatch," you commanded as they began to move in careful sprints, "Cosmo, you and I will move towards the cargo," with that, you dispersed and moved quickly under the guise of dust.

As soon as you neared the rusted metal structure, you could hear a cacophony of shouts followed by the piercing sound of bullets. "Get down, Angel," you could hear your sergeant yell and you thudded to the ground. Amongst the dust, you could see the soldiers fall one by one with your team's sniper rounds filing through them like they were paper. Despite feeling absolute pride in their skill set, you were interrupted by a tight grip on your ankles. You turned to see a Shadow Company member crawling towards you, knife ready to attack. The adrenaline kicked in as you slammed your boot into their face and prepared to go on the offensive. As they were momentarily stunned, you took the opportunity to savagely jump on their back and crudely drag their knife along their neck. "Good night," you whispered before letting them fall to the ground with a thud. You continued to move to your target, gingerly wiping the reddened blood on your pants. Cosmo didn't question your appearance as you entered her vision and resumed the mission. When you reached the outer doors of the container, your other two remaining members had joined.

You knocked in succession, a code Laswell had told you before you departed. After a few moments of anticipation, the door slowly opened to reveal the tired and grimy faces of Price's team. You looked around and lost count of the amount of injuries you noticed and how some of their limbs were turned in unnatural ways. You could feel your chest tighten as you looked to find Kyle amongst the empty shell cartridges. You were comforted when you saw his face peer over the group. You walked over to him and hugged him tightly, savoring the feeling of knowing he was safe in your arms. "Thank you for the rescue," you could hear him whisper before he pulled you back into an embrace. "You know these lads, Garrick?" you could hear someone say. You turned to see the bruised and cut face of Soap as he tried to feign a smile. Before Kyle could respond, you were sure to make yourself and your team known. "We're not men, Sergeant," you said confidently, peeling off your dusty and blood-soaked mask, "we're the widows."

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (18)

***

The next problem to solve is how to make a bed. There's enough wood left to build a simple raised box but finding a mattress is harder.

"I could claim mine was damaged and request a new one," Vander suggests as they walk up to the riverside, bellies full and dusk lingering around them.

Silco shakes his head. "They'd charge you for the replacement. And you'd have to return the old one to prove the damage."

"We could make one," Vander says and Silco looks intrigued. "Get an old sail, sew it together. Stuff it with all the spare rags you can find. It's not as comfortable as the Piltover mattresses but it's a lot better than a wooden box."

Silco pulls a face. "We'll keep that as a backup plan."

"What's your bright idea?"

"You'll see," Silco promises as he leads them to the docks. He speaks to the harbour master and then the three of them are walked down to a goods ship moored close by. Goods get sold in Piltover because Pilties can afford them, but the socking fees are much higher. It's common for a shipping company to save money by docking in the undercity for a day or two, and only docking in Piltover for a day to unload.

They end up talking to a captain transporting furniture, including desks and beds. He denies having any damaged stock to get rid of, so Silco asks, "How much do you sell those for?"

The captain looks Silco up and down, and then condescendingly says, "Thirteen gold."

"So, a hundred and seventeen bronze," Silco says easily. Vander knows it's three bronze to a silver cog, and three silvers to a gold piece, but he'd need to stop and count it out to check if Silco was right. "That's what the Pilties pay for it, probably in some very grand store. But how much do you get paid by the store owner?"

"Half of that. Five gold and two silver each."

"So fifty-one bronze." Silco leans closer, letting his voice drop to a friendly, confidential tone. "What if we offered you sixty-five bronze? You'd make a little profit and that Piltover merchant isn't going to miss one bed."

Vander almost jumps in to say that don't have that much coin. The mine cash box doesn't visit them until next week - and even the loan sharks in the mine won't have much left in the last week of the month.

"Think about it," Silco says. "you don't have to answer tonight but perhaps on your next trip over here, you could bring one extra bed. And a desk."

Before they leave, Silco talks to four other captain's, offering them similar terms: higher direct price if they'll sell a small portion of their cargo to Silco. Two of them sell alcohol, one sells fabric and the last ship is carrying weapons.

"Weapons?" Vander hisses once they're out of earshot. "What sort of weapons does a miner need?"

"Gas masks," Silco replies. "I've seen the Pilties wear them. Why shouldn't we have them too?"

"And how are you going to afford this?"

"We will," Silco promises. "We'll each withdraw as much as we can this month. I'll keep a tally of what we each contributed and divy up any profits fairly."

Silco sounds certain but Vander knows how much most miners spend in the mess hall and how little they spend anywhere else. "You think there'll be profits?"

"If we find a way to sell people what they need at a price they can afford? Of course we will."

***

[struniolos]

wish you were sober! pt. 1

“kinda hope you're followin' me out, but this is definitely not my crowd.”

chris sturniolo x fem! reader.

synopsis: when reader is overwhelmed at a party & finds herself in unlikely company. (no fame au.)

warnings: none!

“i’m just going to do another shot!” one of your friends yells in your ear, trying to overpower the music thudding in the background. two other join her, linked arms, as they make their way to the kitchen. you wonder who’s house this even is, as you hadn’t been invited directly, only dragged along as a plus one.

you are now left with two of your friends, who both look at you with raised brows. the thick summer air only gets worse as you feel like you’re being closed in on.

“aren’t you going to do shots? you’ve barely drank anything tonight.” one asks, tilting her head.

“i really don’t feel great.” you confess, your face screwing up in bitterness. your stomach ached, as well as what felt like your brain thrashing around in your skull, clawing at the inside.

“maybe try making yourself vomit? sometimes that helps.” the other suggests, trying her best to be accomodating in her drunken state, while clutching onto your arm for stability. it wasn’t a terrible idea, as you did feel like you were going to throw your guts up at any given moment. but also, it was a good excuse to disappear into the bathroom for a few minuets undisturbed.

“i might try that, thanks.” you force a smile, before quickly slithering out of their grip, and making a bee-line for the stairs which in that moment seemed like the stairs leading to heaven. peace and quiet.

you jog up the stairs, while trying to hold down your skirt so you don’t unintentionally flash your ex-classmates. the hot air seemed to be worse upstairs, and you knew it all too well from living in a two storey home your entire life. heat rises. why on earth did your foggy brain think it would be cooler up here?

you manage to find the bathroom, sighing in relief when you found it empty. you closed the door hurriedly behind you, and make your way to the sink. you run the cold water under your hands, splashing it on your flushed face. your mascara had started to smudge under your eyes from the heat, and your lipgloss had completely melted off. real classy. as you begin to wipe your fingers under your eyes, a knock on the door startles you.

“yeah?” you call, not hiding your frustration.

“can i come in?” the voice asks.

you sigh, throwing your head back. so much for peace and quiet. you throw open the door, shocked at who you find behind it. chris sturniolo. you knew him and his brothers didn’t go to parties, not even in high school. you wonder who or what dragged them to this one. he was a year older than you, but you were well aware of who he was. the star player on the lacrosse team.

“you mind if i chill in here for a bit?” he asks nonchalantly.

you’re now confronted with the option of being a douchebag and saying no, or saying yes and then trying to weasel your way out. you scan his face, the bags under his eyes, the muss of his hair from the heat. he looked exhausted, you imagine that’s how you looked, too.

“yeah, sure.” you shrug, opening the door wider for him to come in.

he immediately makes himself at home, hoisting himself to sit up on the bench beside the sink. you take in what he’s wearing, a black singlet and cargo shorts with ugg boots. definitely a choice.

“did i walk in on something or…like you weren’t crying or anything?” he asks, widening his eyes at you and freezing in place.

“oh! no, no not at all.” you smile awkwardly, shuffling on your feet.

“right, you just uh, look…” he trails off, waving his finger at you.

“terrible?” you answer with a defeated laugh.

he laughs. “yeah.”

you find yourself smiling a little, too. “i feel terrible.”

“me fucking too.” he sighs, leaning his head back onto the mirror and kicking his uggs off. you envied his confidence.

“so, what brings you to the bathroom chris sturniolo?” you ask as you put the toilet seat down to give yourself a surface to sit on.

he gives you a funny look, pouting his lip and raising an eyebrow. “how do you know who i am?”

“you were only the star lacrosse player of southeast high!” you taunt, holding a hand to your heart and mocking the many fan girls he had at his beck and call.

he tsks and rolls his eyes, “nah, matt was always miles better than me.”

“he was.” you lie, a smirk creeping up on your lips.

chris chuckles, shaking his head. “anyway, to answer your question, i’m trying to escape my very drunk and gross friends, one of them vomited on my shoe, look!”

he points to his discarded ugg boot, which you now see has a splatter of dark liquid on it, and you find yourself feeling sick. “fuck that’s gross.”

“i know right! but i’ve had enough anyway, i want to go home but matt’s driving and he’s not ready to go yet, neither is nick. at least they’re having fun.”

“and you don’t drink?” you ask, crossing your legs criss cross applesauce style.

“nah, me and my brothers are sober. just don’t really see the point in drinking. got nothing against it, just not my thing.”

“you know, don’t take this the wrong way but, i honestly pictured you as the frat boy type.”

“ha, i’m far from it.” he laughs, “but that’s what all the lacrosse boys were like. it was painful having to put up with it.”

“i can imagine.” you tell him.

there’s a lick of silence, and the bathroom was beginning to get stuffy- despite the window being open and letting a small breath of air through every now and then. you see chris wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, puffing out a breath. “it’s so fucking hot i think i’m going to die.”

you found yourself in a daze, looking at him now, really looking at him. he was cute as hell, how had you never noticed? the way his hair hung just over his forehead, how his arms were softly toned…

“hey, i never got your name. that was rude of me.” he says, turning to you.

you tell him, and he nods his head. “you look like that’s your name.”

“what?”

“you know how some people look like their names? i feel like i don’t look like a chris.” he elaborated, waving his hands around to emphasise his point.

“yeah, maybe a chad.” you chuckle.

“if i was a chad, i’d have already kissed you.” chris tells you, not looking at you, more like he was talking to himself. speaking into the abyss.

you widen your eyes, “what?”

chris kicks his feet back and forth, hitting the cabinets below. “nothing.”

there’s a pause, the only sound you could hear was your breathing, surrounding you, suffocating. you decide to be bold. i mean, what was there to loose, anyway? you couldn’t just sulk alone all night.

“i mean, i wouldnt say no.” you confess, avoiding eye contact, looking down at his vomit splayed ugg boot, discarded on the tiles. although, you could feel his eyes on you.

“to what?” he says, more confidently.

“if…” you begin, now looking up at him and loosing your train of thought.

“i kissed you?”

you freeze, blinking a few times to check you weren’t hallucinating and that your drink hadn’t been spiked. after a few breaths, you realised he wasn’t going anywhere, and that he was right there. only a few steps away. yet you couldn’t find your feet, we’re you supposed to make the first move?

before you could continue the battle in your brain, chris had slid back down to his feet, his hands bracing on the bench behind him, arms flexed. he tilted his head at you, almost like a puppy, waiting. he was waiting for you.

you stand up, and slowly, ever so slowly, make your way towards him. you bite your lip, your breath quickening and heart thumping in your chest like it would pounce onto him if it could. how had your night turned so quickly? weren’t you downstairs wishing you were anywhere else only 20 minuets ago?

chris reached his hand out to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, licking his lips. “you’re so pretty.”

you blush hard, looking down at your feet. “even with my smudged mascara?”

“yeah.” he chuckles, reaching for your hand to pull you closer to him.

you were now face to face, your eyes in line with his lips. you felt like your heart was about to fall out of your ass, with the way he was looking at you. not greedy, not like other boys did- if they did. it was sweet, like he was really looking at you, his mellow blue eyes scanning your face and landing on your lips.

he slid a hand behind your ear, leaning into you. you leaned in, too, unsure of what you were supposed to do. you had only ever kissed one boy, and it was in eighth grade as a dare during a game of spin the bottle. this time was different. it wasn’t a game, and nobody was watching.

chris kissed you gently, only testing the waters. it was only chaste, but you felt yourself ascend into another dimension. his lips were soft, and he was so warm. you feel something deep your belly, swirling around. your cheeks begin to flush a little more than they already were, your headache now a distant memory. he pulled away as soon as it happened, as if he had been snapped back into reality.

“sorry, i don’t um…usually do this. i feel like such a douche.”

“you’re far from a douche.” you reassure him, placing a hand on his forearm.

his hand that rested behind your ear was now playing with a coil of your hair. “i mean you were just so pretty, and i didn’t know how to-“

suddenly, you feel yourself swarmed with pride, beginning to smile. “chris! did you follow me up here?”

“um, no?” he says, as his eyes dart around the room comedically as a toothy grin adorns his face.

“you don’t seem so sure.” you tease.

he laughs, shrugging. “what can i say, it worked.”

you find yourself overcome with a feeling you didn’t recognise, something between overjoyed and astounded. you quickly press your lips into his, a little more assured this time. he kisses you back just as eagerly, pulling your waist close to his, breathing hot air into your lungs. you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands, so you snaked your hand into his soft, full hair. he groaned into your mouth, and you felt your stomach do flips.

this was definitely not how you expected your night to go.

part two.

[arc-misadventures]

What are those: wallow decided to go to beacon academy with winter to go see how wiess is doing but instead meet with jaune

The Dragon’s Diamond

A small bullhead flew through the air towards, Beacon Academy. It was a privately owned airship that belonged to the, Schnee Dust Company, and right now it was carrying an assortment of precious cargo: The daughter of the founder of the, SDC, Willow Schnee. Her eldest child, Winter Schnee. And a locked cased filled with diamonds of various sizes, and quality. At least what they assumed were diamonds. For they had come here to see if they were in fact real diamonds.

Winter: I’m sorry mother, but I must protest; Why did you have to come along to handle this simple endeavour; you could have simply handed over your, and my diamonds to, Klein, and let him handle it. Why did you have to come along?

Willow: I needed a vacation. This seemed like a reasonable excuse why to do so. Besides, it also gives me an excuse to be around my daughters. Is there something wrong with me desiring to be with my family my dear?

Winter: …

Winter: No, no there isn’t anything wrong with that, it’s just unexpected is all.

Willow: I understand, but being away from home also keeps me away from drinking. I’ve managed to at least reduce the amount I’ve been drinking substantially, but being around your father long enough will lead me back to drowning myself in the bottle again. I cannot allow that to happen.

Winter: I… I’m sorry, I thought you chose to leave for different reasons.

Willow: Like trying fine, Valian wines?

Winter: Ahh! Yes… Yes I thought so.

Willow: Well, depending on what, and where we’re having dinner I wouldn’t mind a suitable wine to go along with it, but I have to stop drinking. Not so much for myself, but for you, your sister, and your brother. I… I want to stay a part of your lives, to see you grow old, and start families of your own in the future. It would be a shame if I am to deny myself these opportunities because I drank myself to death…

Winter: Thank you, Mother. Hearing you say that means a lot to me. But, if you want to give up drinking, why are you looking forward to having wine with your meal?

Willow: I’m slowly weaning myself off drinking. Not everyone can just go cold turkey now can they?

Winter: I would prefer it if you did.

Willow: Well, it would probably be for the best if I did, but… Oh, we’re here, let’s continue this discussion later, and find your sister.

Winter: Very well then, Mother.

As the ship landed the mother, and daughter duo grabbed their luggage, and made their way towards the academy. As they neared closer to the tower, Willow couldn’t help, but take in the sights around her.

Willow: Oh my… Beacon Academy is such a lovely place.

Winter: Yes, the warm breeze, and vibrant greenery give this place such a relaxing air to it.

Willow: I know, Weiss went to, Beacon to escape father in, Atlas. But, do you suppose this rich atmosphere contributed to it?

Winter: I believe it was more so her desire to escape, Father. But, this is a nice benefit.

Willow: I hope she is feeling happy here.

Winter: Me too.

Willow: But, where do you believe she is?

Winter: I have no idea, there should be an information desk up front we can ask.

Willow: Or, I suppose we could ask him if he knows where, Weiss is.

Winter: Who?

As they drew closer to the, Academy they saw the statue out front, and a student sitting on the base of the statue. They noticed that he was seemingly mumbling to himself as he ran his hands through his golden hair as he evaded the white horns poking out.

Winter: A faunas?

Willow: Excuse me, young man?

: Hmm, what? Oh, hello.

Willow: Hello. I was wondering if you could help us.

: With what?

Winter: We’re looking for my sister, Weiss Schnee, do you perchance know her?

: Weiss Schnee? Yeah, I know her, we’re friends after all.

Willow: Excellent, can you please lead us to her?

: Sure I can… I can…?! Hurk?!

His hand quickly came up to cover his mouth, seemingly trying to repress a gag. His luck failed him as he continued to dry heave until a he opened his mouth, and a belch of fire erupted from his mouth before he fell into a small coughing fit as small jets of flame escaping his mouth with each cough. As soon as his coughing fit ended he popped a small white marble into his mouth, before turning to address the duo.

: Jacques you cheap bastard! (Cough!) Ahem, sorry about that, upset stomach. Hehe…

The duo looked at him in stunned shock, taking a moment for themselves to collect themselves. Willow seemingly able to keep her wits about her.

Willow: A-Are you okay?

: Yeah, I’m fine.

Winter: But, you just belched fire?

: That’s a semi-common occurrence.

Willow: But…?!

Winter: Wait, Mother… Male, blue eyes, blond hair, horns, and can breath fire… You’re the, Dragon King, Jaune Arc, aren’t you?

Jaune: That’s me, well mostly. I’m not a king of any sorts, but I am a dragon faunas. Anyway, my name is, Jaune Arc, nice to meet you.

Jaune offered his hand for the pair to shake as they introduced themselves in kind.

Willow: Willow, Willow Schnee, it’s a pleasure to meet you.

Winter: Specialist Winter Schnee.

Jaune: So you’re, Weiss’s family? That explained the smells.

Winter: Smells?

Jaune: I have a highly, highly acute sense of smell. I can smell familiarity’s between people, to the point I can tell if someone is related to another.

Winter: That sounds like an impressive ability.

Jaune: It has its downsides… Like my little sister trying to use me as a bloodhound…

Willow: You said you are friends with my daughter, Mr. Arc, can you lead us to her?

Jaune: Uhhh… No, no I can’t. She went into, Vale with the rest of her team just a little while ago.

Winter: She did, why?

Jaune: I don’t know; I left to ‘throw up,’ and when I came back she, and her teammates had disappeared. My sister said that they had made an emergency trip to, Vale, and that was all there was to it. Do you want me to call her, and let her know you’re here?

Winter: No… Well, maybe we should.

Willow: Oh dear… I was hoping to surprise her with our sudden visit.

Jaune: You can still do that if you want.

Willow: We can, how?

Jaune: Weiss, and her teams room is just down the hall from my teams room. You can wait there until she arrives.

Winter: What do you think mother?

Willow: We might as well, this young man has graciously offered us his place to us while we wait for your sister to return. We won’t be in there for a few hours at most.

Winter: Very well, we graciously accept your kind offer, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: My pleasure, and please, just call me, Jaune.

Winter: Very well then, Jaune.

Jaune: Even if you rejected my offer you’d no doubt be taken to my room anyway so I could inspect those diamonds, and any other gemstones of yours. If there are any that is…

Winter: What are you talking about?

Jaune: Two things: Those are, Fortress grade safe-boxes, made by the, Gem Refinery. To which I own, I know my merchandise. Especially the safe-boxes…

Willow: Wait, you’re the owner of the, Gem Refinery?

Jaune: Yes, I am. Second I over heard, Weiss… screaming to her father on how she wanted her entire families precious jewels so they can be appraised. And, who is that appraiser, me: Jaune Arc, the Lapidary Master!

Willow: You’re the, Lapidary Master?!

Jaune: Yep!

Willow: I don’t believe you. You’re just a teenager, and you’re supposedly the worlds most renowned fine cut gem grader?

Jaune: Oh, just you wait, and see darling! Now then, lets go look at some pretty stones!

~~~

Jaune: Hmmmm…?

Jaune hummed in speculation as he examined a rather large diamond on a gold ring with a jewellers magnifier. Willow looked on in a chair besides him, while, Winter look on from his bed as, Jaune worked.

Willow: That was the engagement ring my husband gave me, he said it is one caret diamond ring.

Willow: …

Willow: It is a diamond ring… Right?

Jaune looked at, Willow, back to the ring, and then back to her. Their eyes stayed locked for a moment before he threw it into his mouth, and a hard crunching sound soon followed this action.

Willow’s face fell into her hands as she groaned in disbelief at what she had just witnessed, again.

Willow didn’t believe, Jaune when he started sorting her diamonds into two piles, one labeled real, and labeled fake. The ‘fake’ pile had grown considerably larger then the ‘real’ pile to the point she doubted he was actually genuinely grading her diamonds, and was trying to steal them. To prove his innocence, he grabbed a sizeable real diamond, and bit it. The sound it made was akin to bitting a jaw breaker: hard, and solid, as if one smacked their head against a wall.

Jaune, then grabbed one he deemed a ‘fake’ and bit into it. The sound was like someone bit into a hard candy, and wanted to chew it up, instead of sucking on it; Loud, and crunchy.

He made this a habit whenever she doubted his expertise, as a master gemologist. A habit she had come to dread because of the details that followed with it.

Luckily that was the second to last diamonf he needed to inspect, and she knew for certain that the last one wasn’t fake.

Willow: At least tell me the ring was made of gold?

Jaune spat out the piece of metal next to the pile of fakes, she grimaced as she looked at him as he regretfully smiled at her.

Jaune: Well… Pyrite, isn’t called ‘fools gold’ for nothing… hehe…

Willow: Gods dammit… My husband bought me a fake engagement ring?! How cheap of a man is he?!

Winter: More so then we could possibly believe…

Jaune: I doubt he was in this case.

Winter: What do you mean?

Jaune: Well… From what I’ve been told your father is a greedy whore. Uhh?! N-No offence.

Winter: None taken.

Willow: Please, feel free to continue badmouthing my husband at your leisure.

Jaune: Okay? Anyway, your husband is a greedy whore, from what I’ve seen. And, from what, Weiss has said about him is that he doesn’t commit to anything that doesn’t have a shiny price tag attached to it. I think he acquired these gemstones as a future investment. Liquid assets as you would put it.

Winter: That sounds like something father would do, but why would he buy fakes? My father is a greedy bastard, and will do everything to save a chip. He wouldn’t buy fake diamonds, there’s no value in that.

Jaune: Maybe he didn’t know he was buying fakes?

Winter: You believe someone swindled him?

Willow: It is a logically sound idea when you think about it.

Jaune: I’m well aware of several infamous gem pedlars. Give me a list of your sellers, and I could identify who is a legit seller, and who is not. Because there are some real ones here, so maybe he bought the fakes from one person, and the real ones from another.

Willow: I believe they were all acquired from one person, at least the vast majority were.

Jaune: And, that person’s name is?

Willow: Cartiff… Cartiff… Oh, I forget his first name.

Jaune: …

Jaune: It wouldn’t happen to be, Quintin now would it…?

Willow: Quintin… Yes, Quintin Cartiff, that was his name. How did you know?

Jaune: Quintin… Quintin Cartiff…

Willow: J-Jaune? Is everything okay…

Jaune: Quintin CARTIFF!!!

Winter immediately jumped in front of her mother pulling her mother back. Her hand stayed on her blade as she saw a truly terrifying sight. Within the space of a blink the calm, and happy boy revealed a monster of fire, and ash. His head realed upwards as he scream his name in a bloody rage. Winter got to see first hand the hidden fang he hide behind that warm, and inviting smile of his. The way his mouth shut, terrified her knowing full well he could bite down into someone in mere seconds, and could easily pierce through aura, and flesh like it was tissue paper. She marvelled at the sight of blue flames erupting from clenched fangs. The reports she had seen about the dragon faunas were fragmented, and vague, but even those brief insights paled in reality at the sight before her.

The flames, erupting from, Jaune’s teeth slowly fettered out as a finally deep exhale escaped his lips, he shook his head as if trying to shake off some sort of ill feeling upon him. He leaned back in his chair to look at the mother, daughter duo as he gave them a nervous, and embarrassed smile as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

Jaune: Ah haha… Sorry about that… I didn’t expect hearing his name to set me off like that… Hehehe… Sorry…

Willow: It seems you are well acquainted with this individual?

Jaune: As well as I would like to be. The bastard is an infamous counterfeiter, specializing in fake jewels. Particularly diamonds. I met him years ago after I just started out my… passion for collecting precious gemstones. He sold me some nice diamonds the first few times, but then he came back again, and the ‘diamonds’ he brought were all fakes. He denied it of course. Then I ate his ‘diamonds’ to prove to him that they were all fakes.

Willow: Oh, so eating fake diamonds is not a recent habit you’ve developed. I thought it was just for show.

Jaune: Well, yeah it kinda is. I mean what better way to prove if a diamond is a fake?

Winter: Do you often eat precious stones?

Jaune: No, I tend to eat, Dust more so then cubic zirconia, and the like. That’s why I was belching fire earlier, Weiss fead me some, SDC Dust that made me sick to my stomach. Jacques is such a cheap bastard…

Winter: Wait, you eat, Dust?!

Willow: And, what does my husband have to do with that?

Jaune: Okay, one box left to examine!

Jaune simply ignored the ladies questions as he took out the last box. It was a seven inch cube box covered in various locking mechanisms that, Jaune was quite intrigued on opening it himself. But, in the pursuit of time he just handed it over to, Willow who opened it herself. And, upon it’s opening, Jaune beheld a beautiful sight. The one diamond he had been hoping to see for ages.

The famous, Schnee Diamond.

The diamond was cut into an orb with a with a three diameter, roughly making it the same size as your average baseball. It shimmered, and sparkled like a star under the light of his desk lamp. He extended the talons on his hand as he picked it up, and inspected this prized jewel. Turning it over as he marvelled in its beauty.

Willow: …?

Willow: Do you like it, Mr. Arc?

Jaune: …

Willow: Do you like it, Jaune?

Jaune: …

Willow: Jaune!

Jaune: Huw? Oh yeah, It is such a marvellous diamond… I’ve been dreaming of seeing it, holding it within my hands to marvel in its splendour since I first saw photos of it, and I must say those photos do it no justice in its magnificent.

Winter: Are you sure it’s real?

Winter cheekily remarked as, Jaune was lost in the beauty of the diamond in his taloned fingers. Her smile fell as she heard the most beautiful ringing sound she had ever heard as he tapped the diamond with his talon before turning to face her.

Jaune: Hear that? Humans can’t here this sound, most faunas can’t hear it either, but I can. Most diamonds are too small to make this an audible sound for most people to hear it. But, this diamond is big enough for anyone to hear it singing. Only a real diamond can make such beautiful sounds.

Willow: It is such a beautiful sound, I had no idea such sounds can come from a diamond.

Jaune: Only a few bare such elegance… Oh I wish I could have this diamond for myself… But alas, I doubt your open to selling it. Are you…?

Willow: If I was… Hypothetically speaking, how much would it be…?!

Jaune: Three billion Lien.

The duo looked at him astonished at the thought that, that diamond was worth, Three Billion Lein. The sense of unquestionable authority as he stated this didn’t make them question the possibility that he was gaslighting them so he could get it for a fraction of the price.

Willow: Oh my… I… I did not expect that…

Jaune: Didn’t you have it graded before?

Willow: Decades ago, and back then it was nearly a billion lien. But, to imagine the price has gone up that much… it’s unbelievable…

Jaune: It would be the worlds most valuable diamond, but that title was taken away from it a few years back.

Winter: Oh really? What took it’s place?

Jaune: This…

As if appearing from thin air, Jaune held out before the duo a diamond; A diamond cut into a sphere with a diameter of five inches across. Winter’s breath was stolen away as, Willow at the beauty presented before her. She carefully took it from him, fearing the validity of the rumours that he would gut her if she touched it. But, it appeared as if he was offering it to her to hold, so she took it.

She was amazed by its hefty weight, as she saw the light sparkle across it surface. She was amazed when her father showed her the, Schnee diamond, but the splendour of this diamond put it to shame so thoroughly she couldn’t find it in herself to complain about it in the slightest.

Willow: The Translucent Apple… Oh she is absolutely gorgeous~!

Winter: You’re the owner of the world’s largest diamond…?! That makes sense because you’re such a gemstone lover… But wait, where did you pull that out from? Do you just keep it hidden on your person at all times.

Jaune: Not in the shower.

Winter: What?!

Willow: It is truly a marvellous diamond. It was an honour to hold it. Winter, do you perhaps?

Winter: Nnnno, no I wouldn’t. If our family’s diamond is worth three billion, it terrifies me to hold something worth…

Jaune: Five billion Lien.

Winter: Five billion Lien… Wait, what really?!

Jaune: I am not considered one of the richest men in the world for nothing.

Winter: Five billion… And, he just has that up his coats sleeves?!

Willow: Well, it was a pleasure, despite the sheer disappointment of it all, no fault upon you, Jaune. I thank you for grading our families diamonds, and other precious stones.

Jaune: My pleasure… If you want, I can set you up with a jeweller from my company. I can confirm whole heartedly their validity as the genuine article.

Willow: I would appreciate that very much. But, there is something I would like to ask you…

Jaune: That being?

Willow: I heard you were offered gemstones as a dowery of sorts… Does that offer still stand?

Jaune’s burning focus of ingraining the beauty of the, Schnee Diamond upon his mind had finally been broken. Not even offering up the, Translucent Apple for, Willow to marvel at had broken his singular concentration of the diamond within his talon fingers. But, that one question broke him from his stupor like a gunshot to the heart. For he knew all to well what the dowery for this proposal would be.

Jaune: A-Are you offering me this diamond for your daughters hand…?

Willow: Indeed I am.

Winter: Mother no!

Winter exclaimed in shock as she looked at her mother as if she had lost her sanity. And, worry as, Jaune eyed the diamond with a new burning intensity trapped deep within the very depths of his soul.

Jaune: This… This is a priceless family heirloom, you wouldn’t simply give it away for me to accept, Weiss’s hand in marriage would you?

Willow: The diamond would still be in the hands of a, Schnee if you married my daughter, so it wouldn’t be lost. And, I never said anything about you marrying, Weiss now did I?

Willow looked to her eldest child with a smile as, Winter’s voice failed her. She was dumbfounded that this conversation had taken such a drastic turn. Was her mother seriously offering up the family’s prized heirloom for her hand in marriage?!

It was unthinkable. That her mother would do this to her on seemingly a whim. It scared her. But, what truly terrified her was the deafening silence that followed as, Jaune looked between her, and the diamond.

At her, and the diamond.

At her, and the diamond.

At her, and the diamond.

And, then at her, and only her.

Winter gulped in fear at the sudden turn her life was about to make.

[95-6qrsk2rx9uq42069nnnnnjthewolf]

"Princess"

Red Robin has been hanging around Hood like a persistent gnat he can’t swat lately. And sure, they’ve come to an understanding and collaborate frequently on cases. But this isn’t a predetermined meet-up to exchange intel or brainstorm an infiltration. This is Tim dropping in unannounced on a stakeout, or taking out a goon in a brawl that totally wasn’t about to get the drop on him, Hood had it all handled, really. And then the replacement doesn’t leave. Looking over his shoulder while Jason rifles through cargo holds, or ‘tsking’ from some high perch while watching him make a field repair on his gear, all with some vague air of expectancy like he was waiting for Jason to do something.

But he never gives any indication what it is he’s expecting from Jason, or whether or not Jason actually delivered. No rhyme or reason for when he decides he’s done being a nuisance, from what Jason can tell, though he’s sure it's all very precisely timed in Tim's head. 

The thing is, though, that Jason would maybe like to give Tim whatever it is he seems to want. He knows part of it is just how Tim is; the guy would probably have neglected to mention he runs a fortune-500 company if it hadn’t made national news. But he also knows that if you don’t ask for something, nobody can deny you it. He and Tim tend to run their mental gymnastics on a similar course. Probably part of why they get along so well. 

It’s the very same reason why, instead of asking for clear communication, what comes out of his mouth instead is, “You can pout all you like, princess, but that don’t make me any more of a mind reader. The sooner you tell me what you’re after, the sooner I can tell you to fuck off.”

Red Robin pouts even harder and straightens up, and Jason panics for a second that he actually is about to fuck off. A baseless worry though, when there’s still shit for Tim to poke his nose in. His frown only turns into a satisfied smirk as he points out the false wall in the office he’s decided they’re now investigating together.

~~~

Jason’s pretty sure he solves the mystery of what Tim’s after about two weeks later. 

Tim has turned Jason’s couch into a battle station; laptops, photos and files strewn around him. The coffee table is marginally less cluttered thanks to Jason only just having cleared the empty mugs and energy drink cans away. They’d returned from an extremely fruitful bust on a trafficking den that was the product of days worth of prep, and Tim is already picking up where they left off, pulling on the threads that will lead them to the next step up in the operation, not even fully out of his body armor and buzzing off the adrenaline of their success. Jason had barely gotten Tim’s jammed fingers in a splint before a laptop was being booted up and documents updated, dots connected. 

Normally Jason is more than happy to let Tim’s ridiculous brain run ten steps ahead and in five different directions at once; had once watched him solve a different case from the one he was actually working on accidentally. But Tim’s been burning the candle from both ends even more dramatically this week, prepping with him for this bust in the evenings, and dealing with bullshit meetings at his day job (Jason resents being aware of corporate finance calendars). Jason hears the beginning of frustrated grunts and pronounced keyboard clacking as Tim’s fingers start to stumble over one another and he has to delete more words than actually make it into the report he’s writing. 

“Alright, I’m calling it. If you crash here for the night you can get right back to it when you wake up,” Jason offers, like there’s actually any room for debate, sweeping up papers from the couch. And Tim must be even more exhausted than he realized, because he only gets half-hearted grumbling in response.

“You better save whatever you’re working on by the time I come back with blankets or I’m closing that laptop right on your fingers.”

And miracle of miracles, the laptop is already closed and atop the slightly precarious pile on the coffee table when he returns to the living room, Tim horizontal and watching him with pale eyes as piercing as ever, even behind heavy eyelids he can barely keep open.

Jason can’t do anything but drape the sheets over him, make sure he’s fully covered. Can’t help the words out of his mouth, not nearly as teasing as he meant them to be, 

“Sweet dreams, princess.”

And in response he gets the warmest, sleepiest smile he thinks he’s ever gotten from Tim, nuzzling happily into the blanket before he’s fully asleep in seconds flat, leaving Jason to stare and will his heart to not beat out of his chest.  

[therobotmonster]

You can complain about the crassness of 80s advert-toons, but what came before wasn't good just because it didn't have a toy company paying the bills.

In fact, that was part of the problem.

(splitting this into its own post)

Pre-80s, your biggest player in TV animation was Hanna Barbera. Post-Cartoon Network kids won't remember, but before they had a network to fill, HB made low-cost dreck exclusively. Race-to-the-bottom, cheap-as-possible, formula driven dreck.

Some of it was dreck with potential and staying power, because you had guys like Alex Toth trying their best to make good stuff despite being given the budget of a Viewmaster disk.

Kidvid in the 80s was the first time, en-masse, someone cared about the quality of kids' entertainment on TV. Not kids' edutainment, PBS existed for awhile, but actual get down and have fun kidvid. Prior to that you had the distressing puppet shows from Sid and Marty Kroft and everything else was 'what will the kids care?' low-end channel filler.

(Channel filler that was, by the way, still selling toys and candy. Just not themed after what the kids were watching)

Then in the 80s, suddenly a lot of people care about the quality of the show. They care because the show is a very expensive ad campaign, but suddenly the avenue to maximized profits drove through a show that was actually engaging and entertaining to kids.

At the same time, your animation industry was flush with new money and a desire to not see that snatched away by another 1960s parent panic that killed the Sugar Bear cartoon. So the studios did everything they could to not make the shows the advertisements they were assumed to be. The goal of elevating the project to avoid feeling like an ad-writer also slipped in. You get stuff like Real Ghostbusters, Spiral Zone, Bravestarr, some very impressively animated and written shows...

And before that, remember, was Jabberjaw, Huckleberry Hound, and fucking Clutch Cargo.

Yes, that is a pair of human lips projected onto a blank face because they couldn't afford animation.

And everything that wasn't a toy-toon had to have a bigger budget to compete. You don't get Thundarr the Barbarian until HB has He-Man breathing down its neck. There is no Le Mondes Engloitis if they don't have the merch wave washing over France. The Disney Afternoon was only what it was because it was trying to contrast itself from the figure aisle.

There is no BTAS or Gargoyles without the action figures.

New Google makes searching for the quote basically impossible, but one of the leads on G.I.Joe has a quote along the lines of: the fantasy of G.I.Joe was not a war fantasy. The fantasy of G.I.Joe was the idea that when you get in trouble, you have a large group of friends who will be there to help you through it.

And one last dirty little secret. Before they could make cartoons based on toys the toy market was still driven by licensed stuff, it was just stuff based on live action properties:

The 80s are seen as this time in which kids were deeply exploited, and all the money made in the kidvid and toy industries is seen as the evidence of that. The idea that the boom happened, even in part, because kids were actually getting media and toys they wanted never occurs to them.

And what did youtube make into the face of kid's entertainment?

If the YT kidverse had to deal with the regulations and rules of 1980s advertising cartoons none of that would have happened.

No one wants what these guys are selling.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Stern Talk

Author's note: This is the next installment of the Bully(ing) Cato Sicarius fic! First. Previous. Next. This chapter was beta-read by @sistersofthelobotomy

warnings: body horror, medical quarantine,

tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Summary: Titus swiftly escorts you away from the monstrous amalgamation of machine and flesh, and you talk with one of the sergeants.

You were baffled when, as soon as the final opponent came into view, Titus and the other Ultramarines watching Cato fight in the arena that the leaders of this system had brought you to in order to watch the fights immediately began moving. Titus himself swept you up into his arms, bundling you close to his chest with one arm and ordering you in a low voice to “Stay close and hold on. I am going to be moving quickly. The situation has gotten dangerously out of hand, my lady.”

“What’s going on?” You ask, looking up into his helmeted face. If you squint, you can just see through his helmet lenses and get a glimpse at his face. Titus’ expression is tense and unhappy, and his fellow Ultramarines are in the process of swiftly gathering up the rest of the noncombatants and bringing them to Maccrage’s Honor.

Titus did not put you down, after he rushed you to one of the massive ship’s ramps. His long legs made getting up the ramp much faster than if he had set you down. He reached for the bulkhead when one of the other Ultramarines - a sergeant from the red paint on his helmet, and also of the second company from the markings on his armor spoke up, coming up next to where Titus was standing, still holding onto you protectively

“Sir, the codex astartes clearly states that -”

“Father has ordered that the quarantine procedures for our diplomatic staff, as well as for the Ultramarines exposed to the entity happen within Maccrage’s Honor’s medical bays. We cannot trust that the local population hasn’t been entirely corrupted and poisoned by the same essence that twisted the thing that Captain Sicarius is currently valiantly fighting in single combat to allow the rest of us time to evacuate our people, Sergeant. If you want to discuss possible Codex violations with the one who gave the order, I suggest you speak with Father, who gave us the order to do this himself.” Titus interrupted the sergeant, startlingly terse with the other Ultramarine.

The sergeant flinched back a little, ducking his head a little “As… As you say, sir. You will need to put the mortal down once we reach the medical bay, sir.”

“And I will do so then, sergeant. In the meantime, tend to your own charge. One of them is about to fall off the cargo ramp, Leandros.” Titus grumbled.

That caused the sergeant to mutter a curse as he rushed after the stumbling baseline mortal.

The stumbling mortal failed as their feet slipped off of the edge of the ramp, starting to plunge downward back to the planet below.

The sergeant dragged them back from the side of the ramp and held them around the waist, tucking them into his side as he grabbed another baseline mortal, following you and Titus into Maccrage’s Honor.

~

A short period of time later, you find yourself shivering a little after having scrubbed yourself thoroughly with the mildly caustic soap that the armored Apothecary had handed you to use. You were wearing a thin space-linen dress. The ship always felt a little on the cold side to you when you were in few layers. You wrap your arms around yourself as you patiently wait in the small room that you’d been led to.

Apparently, the horrific amalgamation of flesh and machinery had been significantly tainted by Chaos. While you had only limited exposure to the thing itself, there was a possibility that the Chaos Cult behind this may have tampered with the ceremonial food and drink that you had shared with the leading Magos and their advisors. Which meant that you were going to be held in solitary quarantine while they ran blood sample tests, and one of the Librarians scanned your soul for possible signs of infection.

You didn’t feel any different, but the thought of being unwillingly infected by Chaos, if only a little, caused a terrified shudder to run down your spine. You were willing to wait as long as necessary in order to ensure that your mind, soul and body were untainted by Chaos. You were keenly aware of the Imperial Truth that Lord Guilliman espoused… But the temptation to sink to your knees and begin praying to the God Emperor of Mankind was nearly impossible for you to resist.

You’d been taught the Imperial Faith since you could remember by your teachers, by your birth family. You'd heard it espoused all your life until you’d been chosen as one of Lord Guilliman’s mortal negotiators. The awe and religious reverence you felt towards the Holy Primarch and his Guardian Angels of Death had only faded as your… Interactions with a certain prickly Ultramarine grew more frequent, and you learned the sometimes-subtle shifts in mood of your boss and the Lord Regent, with whom you worked with extensively.

He had bid you to abandon the Imperial Faith for the Imperial Truth that he said was espoused by the Emperor Himself and you obeyed to the best of your abilities. Not all of your fellow diplomats had - especially as there were high ranking members of the Ecclesiarchy aboard the Maccrage’s Honor who fervently believed and preached the Imperial Faith to any who would listen… When outside the hearing of the Primarch.

You were also very keenly aware of the fact that Cato had been left to fight off that monstrosity alone, while the remaining two squads of second company Ultramarines had escorted everyone who couldn’t fight such things away to safety. His military career was long and well-decorated. He had clashed with the forces of chaos and emerged the triumphant, untainted victor in the past. You clung to that thought, and -

There was a knock on the door of the quarantine room you’d been placed in, causing you to startle a little. You walk up to the door and press the intercom button, calling out “Yes, is there something else I need to do?” You were told that the Librarians were currently involved in excising the greater chaos threat from the world that Maccrage’s Honor had landed on. The excising could take anywhere between a few hours to several months to fully exercise. During that time you would have limited contact with others until your soul and mind could be properly checked for signs of Chaos Corruption.

Sargeant Leandros was on the other side of the door. He had removed his helmet, and it was clipped to its proper spot on his belt. The other’s sandy brown hair was a touch longer than regulation, but nothing out of the ordinary. You’ve spoken with him from time to time. He’s quite focused on ensuring that himself and others follow the letter of the Codex closely, rather than thinking flexibly, from what you have observed of him. But he tries hard and seems to care for his brothers greatly. “I wished to speak with you. I have spoken with the Apothecaries. You do not show signs or symptoms of infective Chaos corruption, if indeed you have been tainted by Chaos. May I come in?”

Considering the fact that you’re wearing a simple linen slip, you called out “One moment, please.” as you grabbed the provided blanket, wrapping it around yourself and sitting on the cot in the small room “You may come in. What did you want to speak with me about, Sergeant?”

The Ultramarine opened the door to the room you were quarantining in, stepping in and closing the door behind him. Leandros seemed to fill the rest of the room, huge, especially in his armor. He stared at you for several long, awkward seconds, clearing his throat before averting his gaze for a moment, before looking at you again “I… I wanted to talk to you about some of your… Interactions with Captain Sicarius and Lieutenant Titus.”

You remembered that Leandros had been serving with both Titus and Cato for centuries. You silently wondered if you were going to get a space shovel talk about being careful with the hearts of his older brothers Or Else. Leandros wouldn’t be the only Battle Brother to have stopped by to growl at you suspiciously. Captain Agemann and Sargent Numitor among others had spoken to you, asking about your intentions with Cato and Titus. You had been honest with them, and you planned on being honest with Leandros. “Oh?” You asked, gesturing for him to continue.

The sergeant fidgeted a little, looking visibly awkward and unsure as he started to speak “I am aware of the fact that you have become very close with both aCaptain Sicarius and Lieutenant Titus. They also show a concerning amount of preference towards your safety and well-being, even in scenarios where other factors should command their attention more.” Leandros shifted from foot to foot as he continued to speak “Not that you aren’t a useful member of the diplomatic team. But I am concerned that the off-duty activities you get up to with both of them is affecting their judgment and ability to prioritize objectives properly.”

Well, that’s a new angle. Previously you’d been asked - once at sword point - what were your intentions with the two of them and why you were climbing into their beds and trying to steal their hearts. “Both Captain Sicarius and Lieutenant Titus have served the Imperium as Ultramarines for centuries. Do you truly think that I am able to distract them from their duties to such a degree?” You were genuinely curious as to what his answer would be. You loved them both dearly, but had also sworn oaths as a member of the Imperial Regent’s Diplomatic envoy. You worked hard to make sure that your love life did not conflict with your duties. You were certain that Titus and Cato did the same.

If a scenario came up where they had to choose between you or their duties - even if it meant your death or worse, you fully expected both of them to choose their duties. This thought did not upset you, you were well aware of the fact that the Angels of the Imperium had very serious and rigid duties that they tended to. It was an honor that they’d let you in so close, and you would not betray their trust and care.

“Not yet, but I am concerned that if this… If this flirtation and indulgence in carnal activities continues, they may be swayed when you are put in danger again. And it is a certainty that as long as you are a diplomat for Lord Father, that you will be put into danger regularly, much as we do our best to keep the dangerous element from reaching you and the other diplomatic mortals.” Leandros answered, slightly less tense as he explained himself. “From what I observed, you were the one to make the first… Overt moves, yes? Due to the potential power imbalance between yourself, the captain and lieutenant.”

“If you’re asking if I was the one who confessed feelings first and initiated the conversation about where things were to go, if anywhere in our personal relationships? Then yes. I was.” You respond, tilting your head a little as you look him over searchingly, trying to figure out what his angle was. This didn’t feel like a space shovel talk. You weren’t sure what this was, but it didn’t feel like a nosy younger Astartes trying to gather gossip, or trying to figure out how to woo a mortal he was interested in by going to a mortal in a relationship with older Astartes. Your conversation with Titus had been easier as Cato was… Cato was really bad at figuring out how he felt and hid his softer emotions with rage and aggression. He was getting better about that, but could still become quite aggressive when he felt vulnerable. “But the… Personal interactions I have with Captain Sicarius and Lieutenant Titus in our shared off-time is allowed.” You’d checked before initiating the conversation with Titus in the first place.

You hadn’t wanted to potentially either get him or yourself into trouble for pursuing him romantically. You and Titus had been dating for several months before Cato had stumbled his way into confessing his true feelings. That had been the first of several conversations about wants, needs and expectations.

“Unless it conflicts with their duties. And as you were the one to initiate… If you were the one to… Perhaps put a pause on the.. Off-duty interactions for a little while, to allow them to remember their duties and proper priorities, I feel that it would be for the best.” Leandros informed you, looking at you expectantly.

“You. You want me to what?” You sputter, startled by his audacity. What business was it of his what his superior officers got up to in their free time, as long as it was legal, safe, sane and consensual?

Leandros sighed, shaking his head a little before saying “If you are asking me to be plain, I shall be. I am surprised that you need me to say it directly, given your career of choice. I want you to step away from them socially and physically in your off time that you have been sharing with them. I would rather you not mention that this was requested of you by a Brother for their own sakes as-” the Sergeant hesitated for a couple of moments, clearly trying to pick his words with care “Captain Sicarius in particular is known for being volatile and quick to anger. Lieutenant Titus and I have a fraught history with one another, but I truly only mean the best for them both.”

That admission caused you to narrow your eyes a little up at him. You’d been taken aback by the sargeant’s request to break up with Cato and Titus, but had thought that he was doing so out of a misguided attempt to help his brothers, or protect them from the inevitable heartbreak, given that you were a baseline human and would live to maybe two hundred years or so with longevity treatments and space marines - unless they were killed in battle or stricken with chaos-fueled infections - could live for over a thousand years. But now you weren’t so sure if this wasn’t some sort of attempt at social sabotage.

A fairly clumsy attempt at social sabotage for an Ultramarine. You’d watched a group of Ultramarines run diplomatic circles around more than a couple of stubborn and haughty inquisitors during your time serving alongside them.

But outright saying no to him while in this confined space and it being your word against his if anything did happen… You let out a long sigh, affecting a thoughtful and sad expression on your face as you say “I will think carefully about your advice, sergeant. Thank you for coming to me with your concerns. I’m sure that you have much to do, and should get back to them.”

Leandros smiled brightly at that, reaching out and patting you lightly on the shoulder. “I am glad that you listened to my concerns, miss. I do hope that you make the right decision.” With that he turned and left your quarantine room, leaving you to your thoughts.

[redlenai]

I grabbed one of my ocs and put it in Mouthwashing lol. And oh god I'm about to make things WORSE ((Mind you, this is not my Oc's actual personality, I just dolled him up for the setting))

Derek Dwyn O'Uaithne 22yo | Capricorn | Nusing assistant | Purple text

This is his first cargo, Pony Express hasn't given him a proper program like Anya, so he is supposed to learn under her wing, she couldn't say no as this would be a bonus on her pay. He was going to be the 5th member for the Tulpar. Daisuke was still added last minute (This version of the Tulpar has 5 bedrooms and cryopods) At first glance, he is a cheerful boy, positive and always with a bright smile, he seems unbothered by the sleeping schedule and adapts quickly to rules, thrilled to go to space for the very first time...

However, that's not the reason why he joined the Company. Two years prior, Derek was stalking Jimmy, for some reason he got fascinated by the older man at the point of obsession, after discovering he was struggling financially (And knowing where he lived), he was planning to ambush him and corner him so he would accept some quality time with him in exchange of money, however, the night in the bar he was supposed to make direct contact, Curly was there as well. He listened to their conversation about joining Pony Express, that lead to a year without being able to stalk Jimmy, as he was on space. When he returned, Derek noticed he was worse than when he left, so he wanted to make sure to go too so he won't miss it.

He has no particular intention to "fix Jimmy", nor help him out really, he just wants him, to own him, and will do anything in his power to do so. Its a twisted arousal tho, he would use endearment words and even claim that he loves him deeply. His own obsession doesn't give him a clear idea either of what he feels, if a need to conquer or for his twisted adoration to be requited.

😔🔪 🩸⭑︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀 ⭑︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶⭑😔🔪 🩸︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀

Relationships:

Curly: Feels tremendous hatred and jealousy towards him, for being the closest person to Jimmy and for taking him far away for a whole year (ruining his plans) // Superficially, acts respectful and friendly towards the Captain on a formal basis.

Anya: Doesn't like her presence at the Tulpar at all, considering her a potential rival // Superficially, acts like a companion and an attentive apprentice

Swansea: Has no interest on him whatsoever except for the fact he feels envious that Swan is "Owned and Owner" by noticing his wedding ring // Superficially, admires his mechanical skills and acts respectfully, still keeping his distance

Daisuke: While close in age, considers him annoying, especially by their first interaction when Daisuke tried to flirt with him, thinking he was a girl // Superficially, acts like a buddy, listening and laughing to his jokes with mild teasing

Jimmy: Overly friendly with him, and even invading on his personal space. He is so fascinated with him, he doesn't have a superficial personality for him, but surely tones down his obsessive and stalkish behavior. Has no issue courting the older man, admiring him as Co-Pilot and to think about him when he becomes Captain

During the first months, Jimmy has noticed the uneasy feeling of being stalked, slowly turning into a bit of paranoia. Mostly, a feeling that he couldn't cut ties with Earth to escape his problems. At first it was a bit overwhelming to be around someone that gave him the words that he wanted, even considering them mocking, Jimmy slowly began to let the nursing assitant getting closer during game nights and daily activities as the behavior persisted and Derek didn't ask him for anything.

I imagined two scenarios for this AU (Which I call NyanAU*) *It's creation being inspired on Nyan by Maretu

😔🔪 🩸⭑︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀 ⭑︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶⭑😔🔪 🩸︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀

Good? Route: The night where Jimmy tried to go to Anya's room he was confronted by Derek who was standing on HIS door. Derek is aware of what Jimmy was about to do, he has been watching him very closely, so closely, and uses that to walk him to the Lounge. Where Derek tells him a little secret about himself and that Jimmy could do him the favor of ignoring what's in front of him and blow some steam together. In shorter words, Derek is intersex, and offers Jimmy to Nyan Nyan Nyan with him. Derek even lets Jimmy call him by female pronouns, as he doesn't have any issue with them, anything goes as long they are having fun. She could be Jimmy's nurse for the night, while he could be her Captain.

Derek manages to do Jimmy's psych evals, which is one of the things he was interested the most in obtaining, it didn't took much to convince Anya to leave the work to her apprentice and after successfuly getting closer to Jimmy, to be able to get him to "open up". Obviously, without him realizing that the Evals werent' as useless as he thought... at least in the hands of this nursing assitant.

The rest of the journey goes normally, only with a few things happening. Everyone realizes there is something going on between them and even Daisuke has see them being a bit touchy in certain rooms of the Tulpar, Anya worrying for her apprentice as Derek is almost 10 years younger than Jimmy, that didn't last long after the blonde very subtly tells her he has been "admiring him from afar for quite a while to just let him go". Swansea doesn't get involved but has confided in Daisuke and Curly that Jimmy has stuck his dick in crazy.

Curly has began to realize that Jimmy no longer spends much time with him, or that their friendship isn't as close. While he is happy to see his friend "better", and with a partner that is so in love with him, he can't brush off some warning signs that maybe, he'll end up rescuing his friend from yet another mess he caused by himself.

Jimmy clearly likes the attention, the encouraging words doesn't feel empty and the sex is great, his mood and work performance is even better. Derek can't wait to drag this man to his apartment and lock him inside, doesn't seem that Jimmy would mind. He'll see how far he'll go with him once they are back on Earth, Derek has savings and his apartment belongs to him, he has no issue finding new jobs or having lots of friends and connections, despite he is not interested in them and only keeps superficial boundaries, he wants to see what Jimmy will do now "trapped in Heaven". Be it UP or DOWN, Derek goes with what he wants at the moment.

😔🔪 🩸⭑︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀 ⭑︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶⭑😔🔪 🩸︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀

Canon Route: By following the canon events of the game, in this timeline Derek doesn't realize what Jimmy was going to do to Anya. As he kept his distant for a bit in order to don't raise suspicion, he missed on the signs, after all, he only cares about Jimmy, not the rest of the crew or what happens around him. So, the events of the game still happen.

After the crash, Derek is the first one to switch and call Jimmy, Captain. Following his rules and even offering to give Curly his medication, without anyone around he just forces the meds on Curly's throat almost similarly to how Jimmy does canonically, his obsession now overlapping as he wishes Curly would just die already, in contrast to Anya, he considers Curly the real monster for convincing Jimmy to join Pony Express, instead of letting him fall on his trap for him, he is also giving him more than the recommended dose Anya ordered, so he would die of an overdose or will run out of meds faster.

Now after the crash, he keeps his smile "to stay strong and positive" however its clear now that he has a screw loose considering their situation. His compliments sound condescending to the rest to the crew except for Jimmy, who he still treats affectionately.

Swansea is the first one to start treating him just like how he treats Jimmy, no authority nor respect. Meanwhile Daisuke starts to keep his distance, Anya on the other hand, while scared of Jimmy, has a bit of trust on Derek who she confides about what Jimmy did to her, the SA and the pregnancy.

During a blind jealous rage* induced by Mouthwash, he is the one that destroys the Polle Statue and subtly begins to sink the idea on Anya to kill herself by an overdose.

*I based this on pick-me-girl behaviors and sexist possesive woman who don't realize the weight of a situation especially when said horrible thing could happen to them, a lack of empathy and total disregard for the victim.

When Anya locked herself on MedBay, Derek let Jimmy and Daisuke take care of the situation, cleaning his hands from the incident by "watching over poor Swansea, to make sure the spiked drink didn't do much harm"

After Daisuke dies, he helps Jimmy to tie up Swansea to the chair, he also listens to the old man's speech, tho he really doesn't care nor even blinks when Jimmy pulls the trigger.

Now that its the two of them, plus Curly. Derek finally starts expressing the rage and jealousy he felt towards the others on Jimmy, then start with bigger delusions, that he should have assaulted him first at the bar, at his house, so many ocassions, that he loved seeing him squirm on his paranoia of being watched, to how dare to go to Anya when the one that was always touching him and trying to get his attention was him, that there was nothing to worry about, he could have bought Anya's silence with money, good money so she wouldn't have to let go of her dreams while he got Jimmy's kid. But no, he had to try to fix everything, as if broken things aren't beautiful as they were and despite things were so fun and he loved his time with him, it wasn't enough, now it was time to get rid of one last annoyance before they could finally enjoy their time together.

So, in an attempt to prevent Curly from dying at Derek's hands, Jimmy ends up killing Derek, this time no "indirectly", "accidentaly" nor "for self-defense". He impaled him to a rusty nail, calling him a crazy bitch.

With his last breath, Derek just admits that he wasn't only obsessed with Jimmy

"I hated it... when I didn't get what I wanted...

I knew it... you were the same...

I love you...

But he won...

Long... long... ago...

His leg tasted awful... next... time... let me taste...

your heart..."

Then the game ends just like in Canon, Jimmy kills himself and Curly ends up in the cryopod.

😔🔪 🩸⭑︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀 ⭑︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶⭑😔🔪 🩸︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑🩹💊🫀

So welp, I had that much so far and with the drawings lmao. Some random bits of my Derek:

Doesn't have family, nor a specific background to justify why he is the way he is nor why or how he specifically got obsessed with Jimmy

I originally considered making Derek the reason why Jimmy lost his previous job (As a plot twist), but I don't have any ideas for it either.

Cat person

Has a sweet tooth, but prefer strong flavors like 90% cocoa

He is on BC, so he doesn't worry about needing to change plans

Has a dry sense of humor

Despite his overly romantic and corny behavior after getting Jimmy's attention, he is not particulary into romantic things such as movies or books

The apartment he owns is quite big, just a bit old fashioned (Kind of like a Brooklyn apartment)

Due to his impulsive nature, he has a tendency for stealing

Doesn't need to wear bras but has them whenever he wants to feel pretty

Used to do modeling

He doesn't learn something unless it interests him or needs it in order to get something that he wants

Is a terrible cook

Is allergic to makeup

In a "Nothing bad happens" AU his personality wouldn't have been dolled up, so you could say that his fancharacter personality is OOC, my Derek is actually a helplessly romantic introvert, bookworm, used to being responsible and independent, very maternal but still with an attraction to dark haired man with bad boy looks. So yeah, still crushing hard on Good!Jimmy, who just views him as a little sibling. So unrequited love until the very end lmao.

[wishjacked]

my webcomic's volume 1 kickstarter ENDS in THREE DAYS!!!!!!!! so I am telling you guys about my comic as frankly as I can HAHAHA!!

Cargo is about smugglers. They live in a version of Florida where, post zombie-apocalypse, the government went INSANE and made everything illegal... like they made "wearing excessive amounts of the color red" a fineable offense I'm not kidding around, EVERYTHING is illegal. More things:

Enter SJ Khan, a woman with a brain that can only invent rube goldberg machine style solutions to her problems. She enlists an old friend to help her start a smuggling company and the two of them round up a crew that's just seeping with soap-opera levels of drama.

This comic is based on a comic I drew a little over 1 decade ago. It's about living with strangers, about what you choose to look at or are allowed to look at, and most importantly it's about watching weird guys doing unpredictable things. It is funny. I am learning how to draw Florida for it, here, look:

I call it an "evil sitcom". Someone once described it as using "hey i'm not 100% sure you can have a main character do that" comedy... and that feels right to me too.

It's an ensemble cast, but the story centers around a team of smugglers. I love this cast so much, they're all so strange and it's so fun to write all their various quirks crashing into each other. Here's a (only slightly outdated) height chart of the entire extended cast.

You know the weird relationships you get with coworkers, where you're forced to be near them and cooperate with them on some level for most of your waking hours regardless of how you feel about them? That's what we're dealing with here. I had a review describe it as "not found family, but found acquaintances" which. Yeah. Exactly. 😂😂

Some characters and relationships you can expect to see in Cargo:

An absolute mess of a man who micromanages his entire crew but especially the FIFTEEN YEAR OLD (!!!!!!) INDENTURED SERVANT (!!!!!!????????!!!!!!!!!!) (HELP HELP HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) (AHHHHHHHH WHY DID I LEAD WITH THIS ONE!!!!!!!)

This old guy who works for them has MASSIVE MASSIVE beef with the boss lady because 10 years ago she framed him for a crime he didn't commit which caused him to be in prison for years and years. But for some reason they still care about each other.

You know that tweet that's like "a job will have you..." wait I can just find the tweet and show you guys. This one

Well anyways. Cargo has that one. It's between a guy who is a medical celebrity because he got the zombie parasite and then got cured and a very nice very violent old lady. They are the ship goofballs they are also probably the two most actively dangerous people here LMAO

This kid who loves his cat and is doing his best to avoid give a single drop of his precious energy to engaging with the rest of these clowns.

One of the characters did something that made my readers say this.

I could go on but this post is so long already. So instead, links.

You can read it online on Comic Fury or Tapas!

And here's my Kickstarter link again!

Here's art I drew of the crew ~8 years ago. A sincere thank you for looking at this post, godspeed and goodnight!

[happy-clone-trooper]

late-night Poptropica OC intros and world headcanons…

hey everyone! so… i’ve been coming up with my own canon/interpretation/additions to the not-so-consistent and concrete lore of Poptropica (more of the in-game stuff rather than the books FYI) it’s probably gonna sound super silly, but eh. lemme have fun! :P

so, i realized how there isn’t really any explanation on why your lil’ guy goes around on a blimp and collects medallions… and so i’ve created an lighter-than-air-vehicle-centered guild where Maroon, my main Poptropica OC is a member of, and earns medallions through!🏅

this is all still a WIP, but here’s what i’ve got so far:

in the guild, aspiring pilots learn to fly, maintain and/or build airships, as well as carry out missions to different islands that they can choose to do that are presented on a mission board, and are paid upon completion. a majority of them are cargo transport jobs, but there’s odd job offers, and even more riskier ones like spy missions. they are all set up by other people, companies, organizations, traders/merchants etc.

if a Poptropican completes notable missions, they earn a medallion as well as getting paid. it gives them an incentive as well as bragging rights! 😎

but yeah! i have some more stuff on it, but that’s the basics. i don’t want this post to be too wordy

anyways, onto my two main(ish) OCs, Maroon Ring and Aster! (i still need to figure out a last name for her LOL) if she doesn’t look familiar to you, that’s bc i lowkey forgot about her, oops…. i’m finally starting to work on her again! oh, and she went by a different name previously.

Maroon: my main gal you’ve probably seen! she’s a seasoned airship pilot and guild member with her own ride, the Waxwing! 🌟 she joined the guild to get away from taking upon the family’s pawn shop, and she doesn’t regret a thing! though, on her travels, she sometimes finds herself marooned, (ha get it?) which has led to some interesting counters both on land and air…and had the misfortune of coming across a fleet of Sky Pirates…

speaking of which….

Aster: the cunning captain of the mysterious but formidable fleet of Sky Pirates that she leads across the skies of Poptropica! any unlucky air travelers who crosses their path will be captured. despite her stern look, Aster has humble seamstress origins, and creates custom clothing for her crew. yay! 💜

side note: i came up with the Sky Pirates for the 2020 dream island contest, but never got around to finishing anything. so, i’ve made them a part of my own ideas! yippee!

anyways, that’s it for now, lemme know what ya think! i’ve really only shared this all with my friends who aren’t into Poptropica, so i really could use some input from u all! 🫶

[anqueerism]

Aarghghjhhhh

People being dumb about mouthwashing again waergh

“Why didn’t anyone do any—“ SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT <333 UP <333

I swear some people played this game with their eyes closed.

Daisuke (to the extent that we see him in-game at least) was not aware of what happened. There’s no evidence to suggest he knew, considering how chipper and trusting of Jimmy he is.

But between Curly, Anya and Swansea? They couldn’t do anything, even though I’m sure they’d wanted to.

One of the main themes of Mouthwashing that I see missed with infuriating frequency is the criticism of toxic work environments (Which ties into a wider criticism of capitalism).

We see it several times that if any one of the crew members fucks up or does something wrong, everyone gets punished. As evidenced by the 4k pay reduction when Jimmy crashed the ship, and the warning of pay reduction if the cargo is breached “unnecessarily” (and who do you think gets to decide ultimately if it was really necessary? Think about it.). Pony Express as a company has a culture of collective punishment. If anything goes wrong, everyone suffers.

Anya doesn’t have any savings and barely got through PE nursing. If her already undoubtedly meagre pay is affected, how do you think that’s going to affect her? Swansea has a wife to take care of and a home to maintain, and he is already an older worker. He can't afford to take a pay cut, because he doesn't exactly have much time left on the clock as it is.

But what about Curly, you might ask.

Simple: Curly is in an abusive relationship with Jimmy.

Now before anyone accuses me of shipping and gets their pitchforks out, just hold on. I’m not necessarily talking in a romantic sense. Friendships can also be abusive, and theirs very much is. It’s not even subtle!

The way that Jimmy makes his envy and disdain clear, all because Curly is just doing better than him. The way that he lashes out at Curly on his own birthday and Curly doesn’t think this the least bit strange. The way that Curly tells Anya he’s “known Jimmy for a long time,” which implies their relationship had been long-lasting, the way that Anya tells Curly "you know who." Because Curly knows who Jimmy is, really. This isn’t just Some Guy to him. This is his best friend, who has been emotionally abusing him for (what’s implied to be) years. He wants to believe Jimmy is capable of good, is capable of better, so he waves it off as something that he can just “talk to him” about. He can’t bring himself to make any move against Jimmy, because he cares so much about him.

He says it himself.

He always believed in him. Back on Earth, and on the ship.

And it's that belief that leads directly to his downfall and the deaths of everyone he loves. Including Jimmy himself.

Something to be said there about the nature of abuse, too, but I've poked the hornet's nest enough, I think.