#macgyver show me this guy's balls

[wojcheks]

Stuck — Murdoc x F!Reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: NSFW, enemies to fucking, unhealthy relationships, undercover mission gone wrong, reader works for an unspecified organization, sexual tension, rough treatment, tied up, dub!con (?) (reader wants it but physically can't leave), choking, biting, fingering (f!receiving), PIV, unprotected sex, blood, possessiveness, murdoc is his own warning. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.1k 𝐀/𝐍: first smut i've ever posted!! the david dastmalchian obsession finally got me y'all. while looking for fics of his characters i decided to write my own. i only watched two episodes with this man so i'm pretty sure he's incredibly ooc. hope it's enjoyable regardless! ❤

You were told you’d be working with a wild card during this mission.

They assured you it wouldn’t affect the overall difficulty of the job. In fact, your partner had excellent skills in all the areas useful for achieving your objective. Weapons expert, proficient in hand-to-hand combat, knowledgeable, and calculated in his actions. All good things in your line of work.

What you didn't know was that they assigned you Murdoc.

And that was information that one needed to know prior to running face first into the aforementioned man. Especially during a job that would undoubtedly involve violence. For fuck’s sake, you would tear your handler a new one after this was over and done with.

Your first instinct was to put a fist through the hitman’s face.

A fair assumption was that he was here to derail you or, at the very least, complicate things. It wouldn’t be the first time he showed up simply to cause mayhem and be a thorn in your side.

Snarling, you threw his body against the wall and the assassin’s head hit the concrete with a sickening thud. With a forearm over his throat, you pressed down, immobilizing him.

You could admit that you were being a little too aggressive than necessary about it.

His dark eyes sparked with an unsettling light, something so unthreatened and unalterable about him it made your hair raise. He wasn't intimidated, you could tell. He treated you more like a nuisance to wave away, not an equal.

You felt his throat move against your skin when he swallowed, and it made you wanna press down harder.

“Calm down, sweetheart. The night's just getting started,” Murdoc murmured while leering at you from behind a wall of long eyelashes. They were so pronounced you wondered if he was wearing mascara.

His eyes suddenly grew wider in a mockery of fear, tone climbing to a falsetto, "Oh, dear god, what did I ever do to deserve this treatment?"

His voice grated on your nerves on the best of days, and this was a pretty bad one. A scoff rose up in your throat, but you crushed it before it could escape. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The clear irritation that lowered your tone into a harsh whisper, however, was unmistakable. A small twitch of his cheek indicated that the hitman found your reaction highly amusing. He made a move as if to raise his hands towards you, but you clamped down on his trachea harder, and he stopped. And as the meaning of your words sunk in, you could almost see the gears start turning behind that smug facade of his.

“Murdoc. Stop thinking of ways to make this more difficult for me, and tell me plainly. What’s going on?” 

A shade of disappointment marred his face before disappearing as quickly as it showed. “Come on, agent, you know me. Where would be the fun in that?”

“Don’t talk to me like we’re friends,” the reprimand barely left your mouth before Murdoc’s fingers wrapped around your elbow and painfully bent it at an angle, removing it from his windpipe with a sharp tug. 

Wide-eyed indignation contorted your face as your places suddenly reversed and Murdoc crushed you into the wall, not holding back either.

You weren’t some dainty, fragile damsel in need of rescue–there was hardened muscle hidden under your evening attire. And yet, Murdoc still overpowered you, both in terms of height and sheer strength.

Your nostrils flared in anger, and you threw your body weight against his grip to dislodge it. 

He made a disapproving sound and let his weight fall on the point of contact between the two of you, driving the sharp parts of his slender fingers into the softness of your neck. You tried to suck in a breath and rasped instead.

“Now, now, you’ll either continue to throw your little tantrum, which won't end well, or start being useful by helping me,” as his words caught up to him, a displeased crease appeared between his brows.

“Although, using the term ‘help’ would be a dire exaggeration. I could be finished here long before you pick yourself up off the floor.”

You knew he was aiming to hurt your ego and rile you up, throwing you off balance around him seemed to be the primary goal. If you lost control and started lashing out against his mockery, the man would undoubtedly win.

He usually attempted it when the two of you ran into each other; it was a path well trodden, with various results.

Admitting it never even crossed your mind, but you were aware, deep down, that he was damn good at it. The words he used were one thing, and as cutting and shrewd in his judgements as he was, sometimes all it took for you to lose it was the damned look on his face. Always so superior and above it all. Like he wasn’t even human.

It drove you nuts.

You geared up for another round of verbal sparring before parsing his meaning. You hissed out the next words; the pressure exerted on your throat proved to be a pretty good deterrent from speaking. “Y-you’re the partner, the informant, that I’m... I’m supposed to be working with?”

Something in your face must have betrayed the distaste stirred up by the idea because Murdoc chuckled and then finally let go of your neck to bow with a flourish. 

You coughed loudly, to get rid of the intrusive feeling of somebody being in control of your breathing. You massaged the bruised flesh where Murdoc’s gloves likely left indentation marks in their wake, then rolled your eyes at his theatrics.

“I don’t think letting your guard down around me is a good idea,” you said dryly when he finally straightened up from the exaggerated pose.

“Oh, sure it is,” another wide grin split his mouth, and you gritted your teeth in muted frustration. “And oh so thrilling, I assure you.”

You didn’t grace that with an answer.

Ten minutes and one barely civil conversation with your HQ later, you and Murdoc walked arm in arm into the towering building.

With only a few minutes to spare, you didn’t even find time to touch up your make-up. Or double check your gun. And as luck would have it, what you were infiltrating was a ball. With dancing included.

You'd groan out loud, but you knew your companion had a biting comment prepared if you so much as blinked wrong. Murdoc seemed thoroughly entertained by the whole debacle and made no effort to hide it, strutting along with all the subtlety of a battering ram.

It was supposed to be his strong suit, being a shadow or whatever, but driving you up the wall must haven taken priority.

In fact, there seemed to exist nothing that made him giddier than getting a reaction out of you, for whatever accursed reason.

“Now, wife,” his lip twitched at the word, “how about we get this party started?”

“How about you never call me that again?”

“And blow our cover? I would never do that to you.”

You glanced towards him. He caught you instantly, his dark piercing gaze dedicated to not letting you get away with anything.

Those dilated pupils peering from beneath half-open eyelids were anything but easy to withstand, but you held your ground. That is, until he gave you a slow once-over, complete with a too-long pause focusing on your cleavage.

“You are infuriating,” you snapped and whipped your head away in the other direction, barely managing not to raise your hand to cover the gap in your clothing.

The man only drew closer and raised his own arm towards you in an inviting (taunting, something inside you whispered) gesture.

“I have my charm. Shall we?”

—

“Would you let go of me, you animal?” While you tried to keep the hissing to a minimum, he wasn't making it easy.

And Murdoc’s hold on you didn’t release, obviously, the words entirely ignored. You expected nothing less.

The leather of his gloves was smooth and firm against your skin, colder than expected, artificial feeling. The sensation was unsettling, a barrier between you that you'd normally welcome with open arms, but something felt different tonight. Instead, you wished he’d take them off, bare skin on bare skin.

The visual had its… appeal.

Even if the man it centered on did not.

You stopped pulling away to not attract more attention from the surrounding people. A couple on your left already began to whisper while unsubtly pointing towards you. Making everyone think that they were witnessing a domestic dispute was a terrible way of staying unnoticed, even Murdoc had to know that. 

He didn’t seem to care about it at all. 

He pulled harder until you had no choice but to step closer towards him. Your palm fell on his chest, breath catching in your throat.

You never really noticed just how much he towered over you when in close quarters, and you wished you still hadn't. Sticking out your chin was a childish move, but having no control over your present movements brought that out in you. 

Where you stood wasn’t a ballroom exactly, but the lofty ceilings and ornate columns lining the walls gave a strong impression of one. Grandiose was one word for it. Over-the-top was another.

Massive mirrors adorned the sides, and you caught a glimpse of your silhouette, partially obscured by the imposing shape of the man gripping your side. You shivered and turned away, oblivious to Murdoc's curious gaze following.

You skimmed the crowd in an attempt to locate the person you were after. It wasn't just to distract from the heat that image caused. Obviously.

“Enjoying yourself?” The singsong lilt of Murdoc’s voice coming from above drew your attention. You reluctantly looked up, ready to chastise him for his pestering; there were things at stake here more important than his pathological need to feel superior.

With languid steps, he swirled you softly to the side, and then pressed you into his chest, his grasp the very opposite of gentle. His fingers were demanding, leaving no room for physical distance.

It felt like a display.

Like he was showing you off.

He had to bend over to reach properly, the tips of his fingers running over the gap in your dress, moving the red material to the side, exposing more skin. You grabbed onto a lapel of his coat, feeling shaken from it.

Some strange stupor fell over you. Staring up at the length of Murdoc’s neck, watching him breathe in and out, the rhythm was almost hypnotic.

You had to dispel it, needed to focus. There was a tremor in your voice, one you hoped he'd take for anger.

“Did you forget why we’re here? It isn’t some fun little outing concocted for your amusement–”

“–I’d beg to differ–”

“–but a mission of significant importance to the security of–”

“–I thought this was a date–”

“–individuals invaluable to not only my organization but society as a whole–”

Murdoc abruptly leaned forward, cutting you off. “Do you even listen to yourself anymore? You’re really starting to sound like a talking head for your little agency, sweetheart, and that’s not very attractive.”

Biting down on a “go fuck yourself”, you turned, lips touching his cheek as you answered. “I don’t recall ever asking for your opinion, Murdoc. I think it’s better if you refrain from sharing it in the future.”

He caught your eyes with an empty smile, a shark showing his teeth. “Zero promises.”

—

You didn’t end up dancing for long before everything went to shit. 

Splitting off from your partner for the night gave you some room to breathe. It also provided a unique opportunity for an assailant to knock you out cold in a deserted hallway.

Later you’d curse yourself for making such a rookie mistake—never split up without letting the other person know—but at the time you weren’t thinking clearly, a little preoccupied with things. You weren’t prepared for it, was the point, and you paid for that mistake dearly.

A sharp acute pain in the back of your skull jolted you awake. There was a building pressure behind your eyes and a pounding headache that turned your stomach.

You felt sick, and that wasn’t a good sign.

One failed attempt to open your eyes later, you realized what must have happened. Your previously done up hair was tangled with a makeshift blindfold, the cloth covering your line of sight. A twin piece wedged into your mouth stopped you from screaming for help.

Trying to push it out with your tongue brought only frustration, alongside a coughing fit.

Too much time couldn’t have passed, right?

You truly loathed the idea, but still dearly hoped that Murdoc was on his way to get you.

If someone told you a few hours ago that you’d ever count on Murdoc for back-up however, you would have laughed at them.

But life has a funny way of fucking with people, and this must've been karma for all the times you talked back to your boss. That's what he'd say, at least.

And with your shitty luck, the hitman was already gone, sporting a martini in some luxurious hotel suite, ogling strippers, or whatever men like him did to relax. Shooting innocents for fun was more likely.

That measly hope was dashed when a small groan reached your ears. A familiar chuckle followed, close nearby.

There was a hand wrapping around your wrist and you scrambled backwards, heart-rate skyrocketing. Trying to get away from the touch proved unsuccessful–your hands were connected to a chain, which was connected to a wall, keeping you firmly in place. 

Deep breaths.

Looking for information was your first priority in a crisis, so you moved a hand over the ground, searching for anything to use. It was smooth but with loose gravel in places, like the coating of an underground parking lot, or more likely, a basement. 

Attempting to calm down the thundering beating of your heart, you leaned back against the firmness, letting long fingers caress the inside of your wrist.

“M–uh–rdoc?” Your attempt at words was muffled and barely audible, but distinct enough.

“The one and only,” the assassin's response came back loud and clear–no obstruction in its way, a luxury you weren't afforded.

For a split second, you entertained the idea that he knocked you out cold and dragged your unconscious body down here to do god knows what. It didn't seem beyond him.

Fingers clamped down on your pulse point, forcefully grabbing your attention. "You're tied up, agent, and I can help you with that, but you'll have to push that ego aside for a moment."

A protest rose in your throat.

“Be a good girl and do as I say, got it?”

With a swallow, you stopped. The near silence of the room made it impossible to tell if the assassin noticed your reaction or not.

You weren't sure how close he was. How much attention he was paying. Dealing with this strange thing that's been chasing you all night was the last thing you wanted to do.

Murdoc's voice was calm and in control, a tone that inspired confidence and trust—emotions you were, as a rule, reluctant to feel towards him. But you had no choice. This was the fastest way to get out of your restraints, so, keeping your worries in check, you nodded assent.

Seemingly able to both move around and see, he hummed his acknowledgement.

“Good girl.”

“Now, scoot over to the right, yeah, just like that, use your legs. Keep going until you hit my side, you're almost there,” he directed, clearly aiming for something.

A stream of soft murmurs of apology filled the air at the pained noises you made when dragging your ankle. Someone clearly bent it at a shitty angle when they were attaching the chain, and you weren't sure if it was twisted or fractured. It fucking hurt though.

The pain must've made you delirious, because Murdoc was not the sort of man to know what an apology even was.

“Now put your leg up, the right one, try to sit up and then turn your body around. God, sweetie, it's been a while since I've seen good old-fashioned chains… not even handcuffs, they have us in chains,” Murdoc's voice ended in a high-pitched giggle, disbelief mixing with mirth at the absurdity of it.

You successfully followed directions and suddenly found yourself sitting on his propped up leg, balancing on it; your dress riding up on either side of your hips from the clumsy movements. Goosebumps rose in the cold air's wake.

Your face heated at the image you must have made, all wobbly and sweaty, desperate for guidance, barely covered up by the torn dress. Everything on display for Murdoc.

It became hard to breathe.

“That's right, just scoot closer, so I can reach you,” the tone of his voice was lower now, not quite a whisper, but close enough to make you shiver.

Keeping balance with arms bent behind you and wrists tied together was not easy. More soft pained noises, more maneuvering into position and you slid down, your ass landing directly on the hitman's lap.

Was that a gun in his pocket–?

“That's perfect, baby, just a little bit closer, so I can get rid of that pesky gag,” he grunted, sounding momentarily caught off-guard. “You do look good in it, though, I have to admit.”

Incapable of hitting him square in the jaw, you resigned yourself to leaning forward instead.

Curious fingers ran through your tangled hair, fingernails catching against your skin in exploratory touches, until finally making their way lower, towards the gag. Moments of fiddling later, the gag was gone and you could speak.

So you did. “What the fuck, Murdoc, are your hands free?”

“Shhh, agent, what if they hear us?” The way his voice caught on a snigger, bereft of any actual worry, threw a gallon of gasoline under the low level rage that's been burning in your chest the whole evening.

“Are you fucking kidding me, you fucker?"

It hurt, just how much he didn't care.

“We could die here, in this stupid basement, surrounded by nothing but trash and bound in some medieval ass chains, because you’d rather play around than do something useful for once!” Your voice grew louder and louder, and being unable to see his no doubt self-satisfied expression made it significantly worse.

“I’m asking you to help me, just once, just this one single time, you asshole. To put my well-being over your own, think of someone else but yourself! And take this stupid blindfold off me–Please–” You were on the verge of begging now, voice breaking on a plea.

A long stretch of nothing followed, disturbed only by your heavy breathing. Then, a light trace of fingertips over your cheekbone. “I didn’t know you trusted me so much, agent.”

“What–?” 

Wet lips crashed into yours and Murdoc grabbed a fistful of your hair, pressing you against him. His smell filled your senses, something sharp and spicy, with an undercurrent of leather. The sound that left you was embarassing.

His palm was so big it encircled the back of your head effortlessly, fingers unkind in their urgency. He jostled your wound and you struggled within his grasp, trying to pull away with a distressed whine. Unable to see, unable to move, your body overcompensated for the lack of senses, making it feel like he was pressing into an exposed nerve. "Mu–urdoc–”

The groan made him pull away, sticky red smeared all over his hand now. He looked at it and chuckled. "Ah, they got you good, sweetheart. Let me make it worse.”

He didn't sound apologetic at all, and stuck his mouth to the underside of your jaw, sucking on the sensitive flesh. Tongue lapping up the saltiness of your skin, he let out a satisfied groan, hand wrapping around your neck to keep you from moving.

You let out another stifled whimper, part of you wanting to pull away from his possessive grip. The other part knew it would leave a mark and craved it more than anything.

Head falling back, your chest rose with laboured breaths, small sounds of exhilaration falling from your mouth. “Fucking hell–Ah–”

His other palm grabbed your breast, kneading it forcefully, wringing more gasps out of you. You felt his lips turn up in gratification against your tender flesh.

“Does that feel good?” His usually airy tone was raspy now, the gruff whisper making you shudder against his torso. “Tell me.”

You couldn't stop it; your hips ground down onto his own, dragging against the growing hardness beneath you. The emptiness inside you was infuriating, and you couldn't even reach down to relieve the pressure. You needed him now.

A loud cry left you when Murdoc bit down punishingly on your throat and gripped your chin between his fingers. He pressed his lips against yours before speaking, as if he couldn't stop himself.

“Fucking tell me, agent. Tell me what I should do with you. So powerless, all tied up, mine to control. I could do anything, so what will it be?”

“Murdoc, please–”

“Please what?” Cold air hit your skin as he pulled the dress up and slapped the back of your thigh, then snapped his fingers twice. “Focus, agent, right here, focus on me.”

This was all wrong; the way his gloved hand rubbed the stinging spot afterwards, his demanding tone, just how wet you could feel yourself becoming the more he touched you. The more he made you his.

“Touch me, please,” the words came out as a whisper, and were met with another chuckle.

“No no no no, sweet girl, that's not good enough. You gotta work for it.”

You couldn't escape, so you lowered your head into his shoulder, hoping to somehow disappear.

“Don't hide.” He yanked the blindfold off and threw it to the side, moving your head up so he could catch your gaze.

Despite everything happening between you, the mercenary looked near unbothered. His hand on your face felt steady, his breathing only slightly elevated, an expression on his face that you could only call triumphant.

It made you burn.

Your lipstick was smeared over his mouth, the red streaks physical proof of the way he crushed your lips together. You wanted to sink your teeth into his flesh and tear, a visceral representation of what he made you feel.

If your hands weren't bound, you'd be shoving them against his chest and running your fingernails down, marking him as yours too.

As it was, you only had your words left.

"Just fuck me, Murdoc, or do you need written instructions?"

The smug smile he sent your way was answer enough.

He grabbed the dark red material of your dress and tore the bottom part in half, a sharp exhale leaving your chest at the action. Then he stroked your ass, roughly stretched it and parted your legs, toying with the muscle.

You felt beyond exposed, a butterfly pinned to a board. Hair in disarray, flimsy panties not enough cover against forceful fingers and the hitman’s searing gaze. Naked planes of skin kept growing more and more red from the pleasure he wrung out of you. His hand reached between your thighs, and you closed your eyes.

He openly stared, drinking you in. Sharp canines peeked from behind his lips, mouth half open in captivation, and the black strands of hair fell over his eyes.

"What a sight you are," Murdoc murmured and palmed you over the thin material, fingers gathering moisture that soaked through it already.

You bit down on your lip and moved against his broad fingers, your muscles straining from keeping upright for so long.

He kept looking at your face and cataloging every little expression that passed over it, his eyes ablaze with a frenzy, an expression that in any other situation would make you shudder in fear.

Hell, it still did.

Impatiently, he pulled the material to the side and easily sank two fingers inside you, moving them in and out with a beckoning movement, rubbing against your clit until you let out a sob.

His wrist grew still for a moment, watching you grow frustrated in his lap, twisted satisfaction burning in his gaze. Then he added another finger, plunging all three as deep as they would go.

“Fuck, Murdoc, you shit–!”

He giggled and shushed you, "Stay still."

"Fucking bastard–"

"You telling me you don’t like this? You're not a whore who gets off on getting finger-fucked by her enemy?"

You wailed as he hit a spot inside you. “Shut the f-fuck–up–” 

“Aw, but you don’t want me to, do you?” He shot forward, pressing his face to yours, hot breath hitting your lips as he continued, “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers, agent, and then I’m gonna force them down your throat. Would you like that?”

Keening growing louder at the words, you moved your hips faster, panting against him, already nodding your head before realizing.

“I thought so,” the thrusting of his fingers grew quicker and you writhed in his lap, unbothered by what you looked like, only chasing your release with a single-minded determination.

Every once in a while your ass moved over Murdoc’s still clothed cock and he let out a pained-sounding hiss, his grip on your throat growing tighter.

You’d feel victorious if you weren’t so out of it.

Murdoc wrenched his fingers out of you and licked the moisture off, closing his eyes in pleasure. "God, you taste so good. How am I ever supposed to let you go?"

The sudden emptiness made you panic, and you caught his mouth in a kiss, urging him to continue. You could taste the slight saltiness from his fingers, your own flavour.

He pulled away from you with a laugh, then hissed again when you licked the side of his throat.

“Patience, agent, patience.” The grip on your neck disappeared and you heard his zipper open, a relieved exhale following.

The flicking of his wrist kept going for a few more seconds before he pulled out and ripped the flimsy fabric of your underwear off entirely. With an arm around your waist, he steadied you, before pressing the head of his cock forward.

At first, there was a dull sensation of resistance, Murdoc being bigger than you expected. But before you could protest, your cunt gave way, and he slipped in, the fullness and drag on your insides making you tighten around him.

The man rocked into you, his arm pressing your bodies so close together you could feel every laboured breath he took. You wanted to rip off the coat he was wearing, taste the naked skin over his ribs on your tongue.

You barely even noticed the changing gravity as you got pushed into the ground, your back painfully dragging against the rubble.

“I wanna spread your legs and eat you out until all you can think of is getting filled up to the brim,” Murdoc sounded almost delirious now, his hips speeding up, “wanna bury myself in you and keep going until you’re screaming–”

You encircled his waist with your legs, the pain of moving your ankle getting lost in the white noise that filled your head. You wanted him closer, you needed him closer.

Every time he pushed back in you squeezed him harder, wanting the stretch, urging him to thrust faster, squirming when he hit that spot inside you. It was almost too much, waves of pleasure twisting your insides, breathing near impossible.

"You'll feel me for days, agent, won't be able to look in the mirror without remembering my cock deep inside you," he groaned loudly, pulling you up into his lap without stopping the movement of his hips.

He bit down on your collarbone, leaving a red imprint of his teeth behind.

"Wanna mark you, scar you, make it so no one will ever touch you again–"

Your fingernails bit into the palm of your hand, his rasping voice pushing you over the edge. Knowing that you made him sound that way, that you brought out something desperate and reckless, a frenzied stream of litanies, from a man like Murdoc.

That was what did it.

Your legs tensed and clamped over his thighs, and you let out a string of curses. “FuckfuCKFUCK! Please–M-Murdoc, I–!” 

He covered your mouth with his own and swallowed the shrill sounds, kisses turning brutal as you trembled in his arms. First his tongue ran over your teeth, then he bit down on your lower lip until the skin broke, a small stream of red immediately smudging between your lips. The sting sent a pulse down to your cunt, sucking Murdoc's cock in deeper.

He kept thrusting even as you stiffened, insides clenching around him like a vice, and with a short bark of your name he spilled himself on your inner walls.

Your exhausted body was pressed against his chest and you were empty for a moment. No worries, no thoughts. The aftershocks wiped your head clean of everything.

Your torn dress fell off your shoulders, but you didn't notice.

When you came to, your wrists were free, and the two of you were laying side by side on the floor.

Murdoc was staring at you like the cat that swallowed the canary; strands of hair were sticking out of place and a thin sheen of sweat covered his face, making his skin look glossy. It made him look so young, but you knew better.

His fingers kept running over the red imprint on your chest, eyes occasionally glancing at your scratched up wrists. He seemed... content. Some of that ever-present frantic energy looked to be gone.

You exhaled softly, the man's lips grabbing your attention. There was a redness there, lipstick or blood, and you weren’t sure which option was more appealing. Either way, you couldn’t take your eyes off it.

With an unsteady hand, you ran a finger through it, captivated by the sight, and the feeling of warm, malleable flesh.

Murdoc almost seemed human like this.

In a deliberately slow move, he ran his tongue over the tip of your finger and licked the ruddiness off. Grinned again.

God, you wanted to punch that smug look off his face, and you wanted to kiss him until he couldn't breathe.

What a fucking day.

[magnumdays]

Magnum PI 3.13 - Cry Murder review

I’m not sure I need to say something about this episode. I mean you all saw it. It was just good. Frankly all of season 3 serves a ‘Atta girl’. You're going above and beyond. And this episode... pure gold!

Seriously I had to think for like 5 minutes for something to put on my 'like less' points because this was fantastic (and that one thing was ‘where my Ferrari? I luv Ferrari, me wanna see rarrri’ uhm yeah, my brain is part fluffy baby mush currently, you have been warned this review might be a tad bit off)! 

Every moment was on point. We got 2 adorable story-lines and a good case. 

Because it’s the least exciting and I’m feeling contrary, let’s talk about the case first. Because this could the start of a beautiful and lucrative friendship...

You see some insurance companies have “recovery specialists” inhouse and some hire PIs for bigger claims / stolen stuff / prove their clients are lying. Insurance companies, as mentioned on the show, also have money. Like lots. (Trust me, I worked as a temp at an insurance company and the money they throw around is ridiculous.)

If the show was smart they could have this lady be regularly brining them cases to do with weird insurance stuff. It could make for some pretty interesting conflict further down the line too because they’re helping the fat cats suddenly rather than the underdogs.

(I’d also like to point out that they actually stopped/ revealed a planed insurance fraud so they should still get paid a chunk for that, different firms have different policies but they should get more than their daily rate + expenses. Just saying.)

Also I want more of the cute insurance chick looking at Magnum all 'he’s fine' and Higgy not liking it. Seriously, if Ethan is going to stick around into season 4 Magnum needs a faux love interest too. 

#wearenotpleased

Even though this episode wasn’t very case focused, what we got was fun and a little twisty and just a good backdrop for the rest of the stuff. Of course they had to throw in a murder but still PI appropriate. I wish they’d do more smaller cases where no one dies or a million dollars is missing (more kind of Burn Notice inspired) where maybe the cops can’t help because the case isn’t ‘serious enough’ but is still ruining the person’s life.

Next up is Magnum getting his finger stuck in the mouse trap, telling Higgy about his pet mouse and then at the ends Juliet giving Magnum a mouse! Roberto the II! Does it get more adorable? IDK.

I love how Higgy is trying. She’s not quite sure how to express herself or how do thing always because she’s so out of practice and probably never had to before (quite the Magnum makes her want to) but she really cares so much even though she’s piss poor at expressing it sometimes. 

Them talking about wanting kids themselves was just... come on! Don’t make me want babies ever after for these two anymore than I already do!  Also two instances of Magnum/Higgy being mistaken for a couple and this lady thinking the baby is theirs? If season 7 don’t end with these idiots married and expecting a baby I will seriously strangle someone. 

 Other golden nuggets in this episode

Juliet singing and playing peekaboo on the phone.

Hiapo’s mom being “they seem like a really nice couple”

(”Not a couple?” #shook.)

TC + Rick being the cutest with the baby! Rick making a baby carrier thing from a backpack? It was just so perfect! As good as shopping cart for a stroller! 

Magnum and Juliet actually being out of breath after running (!!) 

(because authentic! But must have been totally weird to film because how do you fake being out of breath? Run a block before each shoot?)

and the heart-eyes. So many heart-eye moments this episode.

The whole gang saying they want to keep being part of Hiapo's life and then more heart-eyes! 

I really do hope we get to see Hiapo in the next season, even just for a minute. Same with Roberto the Mouse. But they have been a lot better with continuity and bringing things back so maybe!

Yeah. This was possibly one of my favorite episodes of late. It was also on my wish list for season 3 (a baby/kid episode)!

Only minus I got for today is the fact that title is a little lackluster and I missed the Ferrari (but the Porsche is nice too!). I'd love to have a scene of Magnum trying to put the baby seat in the Ferrari and Higgy being all. "That's not going to work." (fic idea...)

Also next week promo is kind of vague and the summary (“A psychic hires Magnum and Higgins to prevent a murder she claims to have foreseen... ....and Higgins struggles with whether or not to tell Ethan the truth about her past”) makes me think we’ll get at scene or two with Ethan but let’s pray we’ll get mostly our faves bickering about psychics, how predicting the future is impossible and them talking about whether she should or not tell Ethan about her spy life! 

I wonder if she really will, because next week is the second to last of the episode (OMG only 2 more episodes of Magnum this season? How will I survive?). If she is supposed to ride off into the sunset with Ethan (or start to and then change her mind?) they can’t really have him be all that upset about it? Not that I think he would but maybe it would throw him for a bit of a curve ball since I figure Richard would be one of the things she told him about... 

Also wondering how it will come up? I’m picturing them walking along a dark street after a nice dinner and a guy tries to rob them (at gun point) and Higgy does a ninja move and takes his gun and is all “run along now before I shoot you” while Ethan does a Surprised Pikachu face. Then Magnum calls with a case and she’s like “Um, gotta go, we’ll talk about this later alright?” #IGotMyPrioritiesStraight

Last thing, bummer about the MacGyver cancelation. Selfishly (because while I like MacGyver, Magnum is my baby) I’m thinking this ups the odds of Magnum getting season 4 (and it does look kind of hopeful from what I was seeing on insta/twitter from someone higher ups, right?) I still signed the petition for season 6 for MacGyver because they deserve at least a last half season to wrap it up nicely!

[typingtess]

Tiptoeing through "A Fait Accompli" guest cast

Gerald McRaney as Retired Navy Admiral Hollace Kilbride It is my hope to have the Admiral as a semi-regular on the program.  He was last seen barking at our heroes in “Hail Mary” last season.

Erik Palladino as CIA Officer Vostanik Sabatino Vostanik returns from last week.  Palladino with Daniela Ruah.  

Robert Gant as Ron Lewis Guest roles include Spenser: For Hire, The Cosby Show, Miami Vice, MacGyver (1991), Jake & the Fatman, Beverly Hills 90210, Roc, Murphy Brown, LA Law, Seinfeld, Empty Nest, Renegade, Thea, Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, Martin, Living Single, Picket Fences, Bonnie, The Marshal, The Client, Touched by an Angel, Chicago Hope, Diagnosis Murder, Smart Guy Friends, Babylon 5, Alright Already, The Good News, Built to Last, The Steve Harvey Show (1998), Damon, ER, Family Law, For Your Love, Moesha, The Drew Carey Show, Providence, The District, Titus, Smallville, Charmed, Yes Dear, Dragnet (2004), Eve, Sex Love & Secrets, In Justice, Vanished, How I Met Your Mother, Boston Legal, Eli Stone, The Deep End, The Middle, Bunheads, The Game, Dear White People and The Neighborhood.

Was Read Adm. Novak in the “Whole New Ball Game” episode of JAG in season 10.

Played Alvin Pinkston on Reasonable Doubts (hello early 1990’s Mark Harmon), Desk Sgt. Bill Dornan on NYPD Blue, Captain Richard Page in Special Unit 2, Hostetler in Deadwood (with Gerald McRaney), Dr. Russell Ford on General Hospital and General Hospital: Night Shift, Owen Thoreau Sr. (Andre Braugher’s TV father) in Men of a Certain Age, Melvin Fuller in The Mindy Project, Darius in Family Time, Mr. Bennett in The Chi, Percy Lee in Greenleaf and Ray Hayward in Mr. Iglesias.

Johnny Jay Lee as Young Callen Lee is in his late teens, early 20’s.  Had guest roles in Station 19 and Selena: The Series.

Alyssa Jirrels as Jocelyn Appeared in episodes of Girl Meets World, Alexa & Katie, Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD, The Good Doctor, Schooled and the 2020 reboot of Saved By The Bell.

Kayla Smith as Kamran "Kam" Hanna Smith returns from “Overdue” – episode before last.

Alina Brown as Angela Brown Appeared in a short film.

David Carpenter as Clyde Another longtime actor with guest roles in Matlock, A Man Called Hawk, The Adventures of Brisco County Jr., The Wright Verdicts, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Dark Skies, Mad About You, Providence, Miracles, Deadwood, Nip/Tuck, George Lopez, Without a Trace, Leverage, Ghost Whisperer, Criminal Minds, HawthoRNe, Body of Proof, Justified, The Young and The Restless, Intelligence, The Mentalist, Grey’s Anatomy and The Last Ship.

Played two different characters in JAG – Commander Appleby in “The Black Jet” in season four and Joe Osborne in “Baby It’s Cold Outside” in season six.  Was Henry Hoss in “Someone Else’s Shoes” on the mothership in season 17.

Donna Feldman as Kendra Was Gloria Thompson in Fashion House and had guest roles in Las Vegas, Chuck and Magnum P.I. (2020).

Kelemete Misipeka as Simi Latu Appeared in episodes of Hawaii Five-0, Ray Donovan, Magnum P.I., New Amsterdam and Dave.

Allen Theosky Rowe as Jimmy Fang Three consecutive episodes for Rowe.

Godwin Asamoah Obeng as Musa Okoye Two straight for Obeng.

Angela Zhou as Lauren Appeared in Hell on Wheels as Fong/Mei and had guest roles in Stitchers, SuperGirl and MacGyver (2020).

Duncan Campbell as NCIS Special Agent Castor Last seen in “Angry Karen” earlier this season.

Written by: R. Matt Klafter and Kyle Harimoto Klafter co-wrote “Smokescreen” part two with Harimoto.

Kyle Harimoto wrote “Omni”, “Merry Evasion”, “Chernoff, K”, “Command and Control” (episode 150), “Granger, O.”, “Ghost Gun”, “Kulinda”, “767”, “Se Murio El Payaso”, “Assets”/“Liabilities”, “Venganza”, “Superhuman”, “One of Us", "Let Fate Decide" (season 11 premiere), "Decoy", "Answers" and “Watch Over Me”.  He co-wrote “Three Hearts”, “Leipei”, “Humbug”, both ends of the “Matryoshka” two-parter, “Smokescreen” part two (with Klafter), "Searching" and “Cash Flow”.  

Directed by: Eric Pot directed “Resurrection”, “Windfall”, “Traitor”, “Internal Affairs”, “Home is Where the Heart Is”, “Forasteira”, “Reentry”, “Hit List”, "The One Who Got Away", "Kill Beale Vol 1" and “Fortune Favors the Bold”.  Pot is a First Assistant Director for the program.

The program is preempted for the AFC Championship Game on the 24th.  It was supposed to be preempted on the 31st for The Grammy Awards but that’s being moved to March.  The Futon Critic has the January 31st episode as a rerun.  Preempted again on February 7th for Super Bowl LV.  When the program returns on February 14th, the new time period will officially be 9PM ET.

[star-captain]

So Much Better

Angst? Yes please! I’ve had the honor to give Red’s au life, to create a story around his amazing artwork. And I can’t help but latch onto the dramatic scene of Edolas Mumbo meeting his Hermit self. 

The Edolas team has found themselves in the Hermit world, and are meeting people with the same face, but different personality. Edolas Mumbo’s insecurities rise and boil over when he comes face to face with a better version of himself.

Edolas AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland

Warning: Alcoholism, Violence, drug mention

It’s been some time since the hermits have been open to visitors from other worlds. A new world can be stressful, and it’s best just to keep to themselves while they sort it all out. Better to deal with their own chaos before adding in someone else’s. But eventually, trouble finds them. 

From the Edolas world, it was just natural to explore what’s beyond. Xisuma makes it impossible not to be curious about what’s on the other side of his crazy portals he macgyvers together. And when Scar ultimately pushes Mumbo in, Grian has to jump after. Everyone else follows in after, with Impulse being dragged in last by an overzealous Zedaph. Black ground bursts out from the portal, massive stone pillars capturing the energy of floating crystals between the tongs. Purple mist swirls beneath the glass at their feet, every so often lightning snapping across the cloudy air. 

“Oh, that definitely didn’t take long.” Scar chuckles, peering over the nether portal. “Though I definitely was expecting visitors of the more...pig variety.” 

“Scar?” Edolas Grian coos, tilting his head and looking at the man above the crowd. He has the exact same face, the same voice as Scar, but he acts completely different. He’s...well, he’s cheery, friendly. 

“That’s not me man.” Edolas Scar growls, looking at the dopey version of himself before him. 

“Aha! I knew it! Alternate Universes! Worlds with the same people, experiencing different choices!” Edolas Xisuma scrabbles up the smooth obsidian monument, practically hopping onto Scar and scaring the daylights out of him. “They are obviously nothing like us! I mean, this Scar here is in his underwear!” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault the infinity portal forgot my pants!” Scar whines. He looks across the group, pushing the feral scientist off his perch. They all look like his friends, and yet nothing like the other hermits. It’s creepy. It’s cool. It’s magical. “You should definitely check out the other hermits, then. They’re a pretty awesome bunch, if I do say so myself.” 

“If they’re anything like you, they’re bound to be strange.” Mumbo grumbles, keeping close to Grian. He’d rather just go back to his world. He doesn’t want to meet with whatever there is out in this world. And he definitely doesn’t want to see what his alternate self is like. If he’s nothing like Mumbo, then he’s obviously not cool. He’s obviously a dork, a baby. He’s probably...Mumbo shakes the thoughts away from his head. He’s not letting those thoughts give themselves credence. If only he had some vodka on him, there’s no faster way to get rid of such thoughts. 

So of course the first person Scar offers for them to see is this world’s Mumbo. “I think him and the other Architechs are doing some sort of get together. I know Iskall and Mumbo are partners, but I don’t know what Grian has to offer. Cactus maybe?” 

“Why would this place’s Iskall want to partner with Mumbo? I can hardly stand this jackass.” Edolas Iskall sneers, glaring at Mumbo. Mumbo flips the bird back, hiding it from Grian. He knows Grian doesn’t like getting into arguments, but Mumbo thrives off conflict. He tries to keep it hidden from his friend. To keep him from getting anxiety from the tension. 

“Mumbo is a really cool dude. Trust me, his work is amazin. “ Scar cheers, guiding the crew into the depths of the jungle, heading westward. “He’s super smart, he makes these machines that just blow my mind with all kinds of redstone.” 

“Definitely the opposite of our Mumbo. I don’t think he can count to ten...unless it’s ten shots.” Edolas Scar hisses, stepping way too close to Mumbo’s personal space for his liking. Mumbo shoves him away, muscles tightening as he listens to Scar talk. Both Scars are beyond annoying, for different reasons. The Scar Mumbo knows is annoying because he’s a prick, a jackass who can’t shut his mouth unless it’s broken for him. This ‘hermit’ Scar is annoying because he won’t be quiet about things. He won’t stop talking about all the amazing achievements that his Mumbo has done. An entire company with automated delivery, walking houses and hands-free machines. 

The more Scar talks about Hermit Mumbo, the more Edolas Mumbo hates him. He’s smart, and popular. Even this Scar likes him. Mumbo, on the other hand, struggles to even keep Grian around. Why would Grian want to stay around him? He’s not smart, or popular. He’s not jubilant or silly like this one seems to be. No, Edolas Mumbo is a piece of shit with nothing good to his name. The only thing he’s smart on is the best kind of drinks and drugs, he’s only popular when it comes to seducing people. 

The group arrives at the quiet river, the potatoes growing before the circular hovel nestled in the hillside. Across the river, a series of machines are running at lightning pace. Xisuma can’t help being drawn to the inventions, optimized to give the best products in the shortest amount of time. Iron farms working nonstop, sugarcane growing as fast as possible, and a smelter cooking without a single coal wasted. 

“Hey Mumbo! I have some friends that would love to meet you!” Scar yells, poking his head through where a door should be. It seems Scar isn’t the only one to fall victim of the Jungle Bandit. 

“I wouldn’t say ‘love’.” Mumbo hisses. He winces as Grian slaps his shoulder lightly. 

“Be kind, Mumbo. We’re guests, and you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover.” Grian whispers. 

Three familiar faces peer out the massive glass window. All three are easy to identify, though some more than others. Iskall still has his emerald eye, but rather than an eternal frown on his face, his cheeks are creased with dimples. Grian has an evil glint in his eye, practically rushing down the ladder to meet the strangers at the doorstep. 

The two Mumbo’s simply stare at one another. The same face, same black hair and smooth mustache, on completely different people. Hermit Mumbo’s hair is slicked back, neat and tidy. His mustache is well trimmed, and he wears a well tailored suit. Edolas Mumbo’s hair sticks out in every direction, like he just woke up from a drunken stupor. Probably because he did. Piercings litter his face, cool metal brushing against his frazzled mustache and hair. Mumbo looks at his clothes, dirty and stained with alcohol and...well, other things. He just grabbed whatever was the least dirty, wore it out to party last night then fell asleep in it. 

Hermit Grian flies up, locking in on his counterpart. Edolas Grian squeaks, hiding behind Mumbo. “Whoa, I look good in every world.” 

Grian tugs on his bowtie, gulping as he dares to look closer at himself. Hermit Grian can barely keep still, bouncing from foot to foot and even fluttering the elytra wings on his back. Mumbo steps back between the two, seeing the mischievous glitter in Hermit Grian’s eyes. He’s seen that kind of trouble before. This one is a little shit. A gremlin. Nothing like the ball of anxiety behind him. Edolas Grian couldn’t even knock over a punching bag without apologizing. 

Hermit Grian looks up, surprised by the angry face. He’s not sure if he’s ever seen Mumbo make that kind of a stare. Daggers cutting through him, like some terrifying biker or punk rocker. “I don’t know if I like Mumbo with ear piercings however.” 

“Tough, because they’re staying.” If anything, now he wants to get more. Just to spite the gremlin in front of him. 

“You’re me?” Mumbo questions, appearing from his hobbit hole. “Wow...I look...I look…” Mumbo is at a loss of words, glancing over his Edolas counterpart. He looks badass, like some guy who knows how to find trouble and win. He’d make a better mole than Hermit Mumbo. 

But under the gaze of Hermit Mumbo, Edolas Mumbo can feel every part of him being scrutinized. His sloppy dress, the alcohol on his breath. Every insecurity, every vice and weakness is under a microscope. 

“This is the man of the hour, let me just say. I mean, look at this awesome iron farm he just built!” Scar waves the group over to Mumbo’s work. “How many iron ingots does it make?” 

Hermit Mumbo scuffles his feet, blushing. “Oh, something like 3,000 ingots and hour. It’s not the fastest, but it’s more than enough for me.” 

Mumbo rolls his eyes as the others gasp in awe. What a waste of energy. Who even needs 3,000 ingots? Mumbo can think of a thousand better things to waste his time on than making such ridiculous contraptions. Hermit Mumbo is just lazy. Smart, smarter than Edolas Mumbo, but surely he’s lazy. 

At least, until he starts to show his current project. Edolas Grian gravitates towards Hermit Mumbo, enjoying the calm and funny personality. And that infuriates Mumbo. Even his best friend things this useless brainiac is better than him? Grian points at the half-finished machine, in awe with wide eyes. Wrapped into the conversation. “What does this do, Mumbo?” 

Hermit Mumbo goes into some long winded explanation, and the second Mumbo hears his own voice, he tunes out. But he can’t help but watch as his own friends are rapt with Mumbo’s words. Xisuma is taking notes at a feverish pace, and even Scar is listening to the suited version of Mumbo. 

No one is better than me. Mumbo reminds himself. He may not be as smart, or as popular, or as funny, or as kind as Hermit Mumbo. But he’s cooler. He’s sly, he’s independent, he’s the life of the fucking party. This guy… this guy can’t stop talking about t-flops or whatever. 

Edolas Mumbo sneers as Edolas Scar looms close, resting his arm on Mumbo’s jacket. “Would you look at that. Even your best friend prefers this version to you.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Mumbo steps back, letting Scar fall flat on his face. But Mumbo looks at Grian, both Grians listening intently to Mumbo show off his spectacular knowledge. The machine starts to fire, turning the farm on and beginning it’s collection. 

Even he is better than me. Mumbo can’t build incredible designs, machines that make life easier, that astonish and astound. Machines that Mumbo could never even begin to imagine, much less build himself. He can hardly even get the key of his own apartment into the lock most days. Mumbo can’t make friends, even the people he hangs out with most would rather eat fermented spider eye than call him an ally. He’s not funny unless he’s got a cocktail of drugs mixing up his mind and body. And the last thing anyone, even Grian, would call Mumbo is kind. He’s an asshole, a bastard. A rubbish friend and an even more rubbish person. A waste of space. A waste of time, a waste of effort.

Mumbo rolls his eyes, but he hears Edolas Grian’s bright voice over the amazement of the others. “You’re so cool, Mumbo! You can make all this incredible stuff, and you’re smart enough to explain it all. And kind enough to show us it all, I can’t imagine thinking of all this. This has to be why so many people ask you for help!” 

Edolas Mumbo can hear something snap, like a bone breaking in his own mind. His own heart. Grian never called him smart, or kind. No one has ever called him anything except a bastard, or a fucker, or an asshole. He hardly feels his fists clench, looking at his own face. How long has Mumbo wanted to punch himself, to beat himself up? To give him what he deserves? How often has he looked in the mirror, drunk and high, and just wanted to knock himself out? 

“Oh, it’s nothing really, mate. I’m honestly not that good, you should see something like Impulse.” Hermit Mumbo overs a shy smile, eyes closed as he smooths back his hair. His awkward chuckle is cut short as a rough grip wraps around his neck. Hermit Mumbo’s legs kick out as the raging grip raises him from the grass. He forces his eyes open, hand grabbing at the tattooed arm- of himself. 

“Stop being better than me!” Edolas Mumbo shouts, fists shaking and a prick of tears burning at the corners of his eyes. Mumbo looks down the arm holding him up, head tipped high but eyes glancing down to see his own face. He gasps for air, holding onto the arm suspending him in the air. And despite being physically in peril, he can see that he’s not the one suffering as much as Edolas Mumbo. In shared grey eyes, he can see the pain, the fear. 

Edolas Mumbo is terrified. Everyone thinks this Mumbo is so much better- because they’re right. He is a thousand times better than him. Scar prefers him, Xisuma prefers him. Even his best friend, Grian, prefers this Mumbo to him. They’ll ditch Mumbo in no time, in lieu of so much better a version. He’s nothing compared to the amazing, perfect person he has grasped in his hand. He’s just a bastard, someone that everyone hates. Someone that everyone wants gone. 

“Mumbo! Stop it, what are you thinking?” Both Mumbos look over, seeing Edolas Grian with tears streaking down his face. Torn between wanting to tell his friend off for being so aggressive, and wanting to calm him down. But for Edolas Mumbo, seeing his best friend crying because of him lets him know that he’s done it again. He’s fucked it all up again, because he can’t handle his own emotions. He can’t control himself, he can’t be anything except a piece of shit and a walking disaster. 

Mumbo let’s go of his own neck, lightly setting Hermit Mumbo onto his feet. The tiny tears have grown to full floods, guilt and regret and hatred all boiling over. Despite the soft landing, Mumbo still falls to his knees, trying to regain control of his heartbeat and body. He looks up, wanting to ask himself what the problem was. Why he was more afraid than Hermit Mumbo. 

But he’s gone, a cavity bored through the crowd that surrounded him. Hermit Grian steps in, looking at Mumbo’s neck. It’s red, but not bruised. Despite the anger in Edolas Mumbo’s grip, he couldn’t bring himself to actually hurt another person for no reason other than wanting to bring pain to himself. Grian looks at the shaking Grian. “I think he needs some help.” 

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

“Mumbo?” Grian whispers, peeking his head into the empty bar. It’s midday, but he knew that if Mumbo was going to go anywhere, it was here. This is his favorite haunt, where he can get the cheapest prices on drinks, find the best new addictions, and hit up the next morning’s mistake. 

There’s only two people in the dark, smoky bar. The bartender, who nods to the end of the line of stools. The darkest corner. Mumbo is surrounded by an assortment of bottles, shots, and whiskey glasses. Mumbo’s head is against the glistening and sticky counter, hand still clutching the current bottle. Grian creeps closer, clambering onto the stool next to Mumbo. 

“I thought you’d rather be with that perfect version of me.” Mumbo growls, turning his gaze away from his friend. “And why wouldn’t you, huh?” 

“Mumbo, I-” Grian flinches back as Mumbo snaps at him, cutting him off. He can smell the alcohol on his breath. This may not be the first time Grian has had to help Mumbo through a bout of alcohol poisoning. Hopefully he won’t need the hospital this time. 

“Just leave me, get something better than this piece of shit. Someone smarter than me, kinder than me. Someone who can actually do something useful with their life. Who’s good at so many things. Redstone, being nice, being funny and friendly and smart and such a great person!” Mumbo grasps the bottle in his hand until the glass shatters, shards digging into his skin. Grian has never seen his best friend so low. He’s afraid, not for his own safety. For Mumbo’s. “And what am I good at? Nothing. Nothing except overdosing in an alley outside a bar.” 

Mumbo’s head snaps to the side, cheek stinging and burning red. His eyesight is set straight, free from the drunken stupor for just a moment. Just enough to look back, and see Grian. With his hand still up, and his face creased with sorrow and tears. Deep valleys as he holds back his own cries. Not because he’s sad for himself. But sad for Mumbo. “How could you say such a thing? How could you honestly think that any of us would want you any different than who you are?” 

“Because he’s-” 

“Because he’s you? He’s not you, Mumbo. He’s got a different world, a different life. A different place that he grew up in. A different set of vices and worries than you.” Grian scoots the stool closer, forcing Mumbo to listen. “He’s smart, and kind. But that doesn’t make us ever want to get rid of you! You are wild, and clever, and there’s not another person in this world that would step into a fight for any one of us. Even for Scar, if it came down to it.” 

“Great, so I’m just you guys’s bodyguard.” Mumbo hisses, looking at the glass buried in his fingers. 

“No, Mumbo! Just...for once listen to me, for fuck’s sake!” The sharp curse that crosses over Grian’s lips is enough to snap Mumbo back to his words. Grian never swears, he’s too much of a goody-two-shoes for that. “We are your friends because we want to be! We hang out with you because we enjoy it! Just because one person is different than you doesn’t mean you’re any better or worse!” 

Mumbo’s voice is gone from his lips, and all he can do is breathe in and out. He can’t think of any retort for Grian’s words. Just one thing. “I messed up, Grian.” 

“We all mess up. But the important thing is learning from it. Learning from our mistakes, and being better from it. Maybe...one day we can go back and smooth things over with Hermit Mumbo. But...for now, let’s get you some help.”

[takaraphoenix]

You know. If the showrunners of MacGyver had balls, Desi would be a lesbian.

Instead of yet another case of “A Girl and A Boy are working together and immediately develop a crush because that’s just how heterosexuals are! :D”.

Which, honestly, is even worse to the fact how she fills the role of Jack.

Look, I’m not the kind of person who needs her gay ships to be canon. I’m realistic enough to know Jack and Mac would never end up together in a straight show like that. I get that. I don’t expect it.

But to remove Jack and replace him with who, so far, has been nothing but the average Strong Female Character stereotype, and pretend that you gotta build some straight nonsense outta that with Mac...? Seriously...?

I loved that they never went Riley/Mac, I love that they got the Riley/Bozer outta their system pretty quickly. Just because there’s a new girl on the team now, you don’t need to activate your compulsatory heterosexuality, guys...

How about instead of forcing another romance to make sure everyone is Really Very Straight, we go and actually develop the romances you already have going on?

Leanna and Bozer are now living together, but uh I’d have liked to see more of their development as a couple first to, you know, actually have an opinion on that.

And up until episode 21, I actually forgot that oh yeah right Riley got a relationship too.

If you need to involve ships in your show, and I get that you do, how about you then develop them properly instead of just forcing more and more ships...?

Not to mention, I’d... I’d really like a better treatment of the female characters.

Because really, so far Desi has done and shown absolutely nothing that made her... special, her own character. She just functions as Jack’s replacement and has all the makings of Strong Female Character. Give her more?

And yeah, that’s a fair thing to demand considering the past.

Patricia Thornton was honestly such a good character and their “surprise twist” felt less like an actual twist and more completely outta nowhere...

I really loved Jill and was happy how they were bringing her in more and more and how she got dynamics with the team... and then she just got fridged.

Samantha Cage... uh... went back to Australia “for medical reasons” but like... no one really cares to even bring her up anymore or how she’s doing?? Even though she had become a part of the team and the team cared about her.

Leanna started out strong and has slowly been reduced to Bozer’s Girlfriend. She’s barely even in episodes, she doesn’t really get to do much and most of the times, she really just serves as The Girlfriend Character.

And Matty, honestly, I have mixed feelings on her. She’s the Tough Boss character most of the time, but this recent “Strong Female Character’s one weakness that makes her soft is Love” is... making me wince a lot.

Aside from Riley, they got a real bad track-record with their female characters. So if they’re just gonna make Desi “female!Jack but with feelings for Mac!” it’s going to be... incredibly bland and boring and Desi really deserves better. Yes, Jack’s shoes are big ones to fill, but the solution to filling them really can’t be “uh let’s add a romance with Mac??”...

And yes, I very specifically opened this post up with “make her a lesbian”. Because I really do feel like that’d fit her. It would remove that dumbass forced romance they are building up there. And, an added bonus, it’d give this show some much-needed diversity.

Seriously, a show that started airing in 2016 and is now, in the year 2019 in its third season without a single LGBT+ character... is really very pathetic, to be quite frank.

[asflowersfade]

MacGyver Shorts: The One Where Jack’s Proficiency With the Ball Is Questioned

Missing scene from 102. Mac refuses to let Jack brood.

After his parting shot about the weirdness of his comment about them at least having each other, Mac turns to leave, but when he looks back and sees Jack still standing there, staring wistfully after Sarah… he stops and sighs. He can’t leave the poor man here like this.

“Come on, big guy,” he calls out in a voice that’s way too cheerful and way too bright and beckons to Jack. “Bozer promised to make his famous hamburgers and it’s been way too long since I taught you a lesson at the hoop!”

And there it is, Mac thinks with satisfaction when Jack immediately straightens up and turns to glare at Mac, Sarah, at least for the moment, forgotten. “’Taught me a lesson’? You suffering from memory loss there, hoss?” He sets off after Mac, looking very fierce.

Mac waves his hand airily and starts walking again, knowing that Jack will catch up in a second or two. “Oh no, I remember our last game perfectly. I kicked your ass! Must be your old age showing, both at the hoop and in the memory area.”

“You insolent whelp!” Jack exclaims, pushing Mac from behind and making him stumble a little. “I’ll show you old age. Old age, my ass. It’s all experience!”

Grinning, Mac throws Jack a mischievous look over his shoulder. “So, if you’re so certain of your proficiency with the ball, how about a bet?”

Jack nods, firm and determined. “I’m in!”

“Great! So, whoever wins chooses the entertainment tonight,” Mac suggests.

Jack eyes him suspiciously. “Don’t tell me, it’ll be something very educational and very boring if you win, right?”

Mac blinks at him innocently. “I thought you trusted your... ‘athletic prowess’?” The quotation marks simply cannot be overheard.

“Fine!” Jack growls. “But if I win, we’re gonna watch Amityville, all the movies!”

Mac winces a little on the inside but it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. Besides, maybe he will beat Jack. And then he’ll finally make him watch the documentary about Raphael and his Sistine Chapel - or, as Jack likes to call him, “that artsy dude with the weird chubby angel obsession, I prefer the Ninja Turtle, thanks.”

“Fine,” Mac replies. “It’s a deal!”

Jack rubs his hands. “Great. But first, I think I need to go home and change.” He pulls his t-shirt off his body, and with a little grimace, he looks down at the stains and smears, courtesy of the Venezuelan countryside.

Mac lifts his eyebrows and looks him up and down. “You think?”

[murdocsmacattack]

how murdocs obsession with mac as evolved and escalated part 2

screwdriver

short one here guys after all our king nutbar only shows up for 5 min, but 3 of those 5 minuets are telling where his macobsession is concerned.

hasnt murdoc ever heard of closing the *** damn door

of course not , hell face his obsession with a scenes of poise and rationality....just kidding  bozer and riley go to murdoc for information and tho he greets them pleasantly enough , chomping at the bit to play , it quickly becomes apparent that when that big metal door opened they wernt the worthy opponents he was hoping for or expecting

"You've lost that deer in-the-headlights look, Wilt. I take it roomie filled you in on everything"

to riley and bozer this is just murdoc "being murdoc" they know he likes to play games and all the little remarks are just his way of getting that ball rolling , but if one looks closer , its a little more insidious then all that especially where mac is concerned , murdocs not as interested in riley or bozer (tho as david himself stated , bozer dose have a little place in murdocs heart being one of the ways to potently make mac suffer ) as he is mac , there not the ones who not only beat him , but survived him 3 times in a row, and thats only so far , his real fascination lies in mac but macs not there riely and bozer are the ones in front of him , cue the insidiousness ,  murdoc dosnt actually have to allude to mac in any capacity ,as i said hes not there, bringing him up is unnecessary ,but for anyone looking a little closer into this insidious wordplay, murdoc is enacting a behavior pretty typical of a manipulative personality with an obsession..

hes fishing

"I take it roomie filled you in on everything"

the true person murdoc is interested in is not in the room , but people close to him are , people who know him , murdoc dosnt use macs name and  says the above statement like a question , because it is a suddle attempt to get bozer to talk about mac, to tell murdoc anything that has to do with him , weather the fall out right after they met , or even macgyvers current state , i doubt he expected bozers smart mouth in response , but ether way this ploy didnt work ,hence why out of all they talk about murdoc still broaches the subject , bringing up macgyver only became unnecessary when murdoc realized manipulative words wouldn't get him what he wanted , witch is why his audited towards them after word became extremely dismissive , and only picked up again when  something he deemed as important was offered, why is this telling to me ?

becaues sadly on a personal note iv had a stalker , and i could recognize this behavior a mile away ,an obsession was pretty strongly fostered in corkscrew, but now that its had time to develop fully , in a place where a individual like murdoc has had little else to think about, murdoc has come to where he is craving interaction with macgyver, to the point where manipulating people close to him for even the smallest scrap of information on the subject of that focus is a priority ,its the little he can do from behind iron bars but its the murdoc equivalent of sneaking into macs window to smell his things

and it only gets worse from here .        

[machine-gunn-eddie]

Sierra Oscar Sierra

Parings: Ambrollreigns, Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins/Roman Reigns

Rating: T

The Hounds of Justice find themselves on a deserted island. Island AU, with a pinch of ambrollreigns for flavor.

Seth was the first to arise; unperturbed in his still half awake state.

Oh hey look, the ocean, he thought, rubbing the crud out of his eyes. Followed by, wait, why the fuck is the ocean in my hotel room?

A quick look around revealed several things: his shield mates lying in the sand, their luggage carelessly piled close by, and the beach they were on sure as hell wasn’t their hotel room.

“Roman, Dean! Wake up!” he hissed.

“Wassup?” Roman mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.  He too, looked around them, before turning back to Seth with a confused look. “We get drunk?”

“Don’t think so,” Seth replied, shaking his head. “I thought we were headed to the hotel? Do you remember anything? Dean?”

Their only response was Dean rolling over in the sand.

“Dean,” Seth repeated.

“Mmmgh.”

“Goddammit Dean, we’re stranded on an island, get the hell up,” Seth ground out, punching his shoulder.

“Well sierra, hotel, I don’t give a fuck,” Dean sneered, rubbing at his shoulder. “Couldn’t let me get another minute of sleep huh? Wait a second, where the hell are we?” Dean asked, finally taking a look around.

The Hounds of Justice surveyed the landscape they found themselves on with equally confused looks.

“Well damn,” Dean laughed, getting up and stretching. “Looks like we won a tropical getaway for three. Always wanted a proper vacation.”

“We’re supposed to be on tour,” Roman reminded. “Not much of a vacation. I think we’re just lost.”

“We were supposed to go to an island resort, if I recall. Something about summer press?” Seth shrugged. “I guess we made it to AN island. Not sure if it’s THE island.”

“Well we can’t have gotten that far off the beaten path, right? They’re probably looking for us right now.”

“Alright, we’ll just focus on surviving until we get found by a search party,” the Architect planned, pacing through the sand. “We’ll need to build a fire, find shelter, find clear water, go hunting—where’s Dean?”

Seth and Roman both looked over to see Dean running down to the shoreline, pulling his shirt off as he went.

“Now he’s got the right idea,” Roman laughed, pulling his own shirt over his head. Seth sputtered and blushed, prompting Roman to grab his hand and drag him down to the water himself.

“A little more to the right! No, your other right! Right there!” Dean hollered.

“I still can’t reach it!” Seth yelled, from his perch on Roman’s shoulders. Roman was holding tightly to his ankles while he reached for the top of the palm tree.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean yelled back.

Roman shifted his shoulders up, and Seth stretched as far as he could, but he still couldn’t reach the coconuts. Seth let out a groan of frustration, grabbing onto the tree for balance.

“It’s no use man, I can’t reach it,” Seth yelled down. Dean only blinked in response, staring up at the tree in thought.

“Yo Rome, how much can you deadlift?” Dean questioned.

“Enough,” Roman grunted. “Why?”

“Seth, hug that tree like it’s magnetic brother. Ro, brace yourself,” Dean called, backing up a few paces.

“What? Why— oh hell no !” Roman yelled, as Dean kicked off his back, nearly smashing Roman’s face into the tree trunk had he not steadied himself. Seth let out a similar yell as Dean used him as a human ladder, scrambling up to the top of the palm tree like a jeans-wearing monkey.

“Got em!” Dean hollered, knocking a few coconuts loose and throwing them down.

“Get your crotch out of my face !” Seth shouted, clinging to the tree like a sloth with a bleach job.

“Why? I thought you liked having my crotch in your face?” Dean cooed.

“I’m going to fucking powerbomb you both,” Roman growled, shaking from the effort of lifting his shield mates.

“That’s gotta be the ugliest sandcastle I’ve ever seen, Seth. You should be ashamed,” Roman chuckled, sitting down next to Seth who was methodically packing wet sand together. It resembled a hill with a stick coming out of the top, surrounded by a very uneven wall.

“Screw you,” Seth huffed. “Do you know how hard it is to make one without a bucket?”

“Aren’t you an Architect?”

The fastball of wet sand that slammed into Roman’s face in response made him laugh even harder.

“How exactly are we going to make a fire anyway?” Roman considered, dumping another armful of kindling and sticks onto the pile they had gathered.

“Don’t you just, rub two sticks together? Or something?” Seth replied with a shrug. “Shouldn’t be that hard.”

“I take it back, this is fucking hard,” Seth snarled, tossing the snapped sticks into the pile of broken ones surrounding him.

“You’ve been at this forever man,” Roman sympathized, “Take a breather.”

“I can’t believe that none of us had matches in our bags. Or a lighter, or something,” Seth gritted, kicking out at some of the discarded sticks in anger.

“Sorry man, I got rid of mine when I quit smoking,” Dean said remorsefully. “Wait a sec, do you have all your gear packed?”

“Yes?” Seth responded, unsure of what Dean could be planning.

“Give me 10,” Dean called out, jogging over to their luggage.

10 minutes, the batteries of Roman’s hair dryer, some coat hanger wire, some of Dean’s ace tape, and some body oil that Seth reluctantly parted with later, Dean had started a fire.

“That’s actually really impressive,” Roman noted, watching Dean throw more chunks of wood onto the inferno.

“How the actual hell,” Seth wondered, still entranced by Dean’s MacGyver-level creation.

“I watch a lot of Survivorman,” Dean said, nonchalantly.

“God this is so uncomfortable. I’m never complaining about a shitty hotel room again,” Seth whined, curling up tighter to Roman’s side. The sand beneath them wasn’t that gritty, but the ground wasn’t exactly a plush mattress either.

“C’mon Seth, it ain’t so bad,” Dean snorted on the other side of Roman, “I once slept on a park bench for like, two weeks when I was a teenager. Now that was uncomfortable.” Seth felt Roman subtly pull Dean closer like he always did whenever Dean mentioned his childhood. “Now we got this nice fire going and you guys are with me. I couldn’t be happier.”

“And we couldn’t be either,” Roman replied, tucking his chin down to rest on Dean’s unruly hair. “Right Seth?”

“Yeah,” Seth murmured, reaching out to grasp Dean’s forearm. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

They fell asleep under the stars in a massive tangle of limbs, content in their closeness.

“Will you friggin’ hold still? Sheesh,” Seth muttered, smearing charcoal onto Dean’s face in abstract swirls. “I don’t understand why we gotta do this.”

“Oh, come on! Where’s your island spirit Rollins?” Dean teased, his grin further skewing the warpaint. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna go all in.” ‘All in,’ to Dean, meant tearing their cargos into shorts and wearing some Shield bandanas as armbands and headgear. (“Functional and fashionable,” Dean had claimed.)

“Alright, you’re done,” Seth declared, hoping Dean appreciated his effort. “Roman, you’re up next.”

“Nah, he’s already tribal-looking enough,” Dean cut in, as Roman made his way over.

“Dude, that’s racist,” Seth scowled.

“I meant his big ass tattoo!” Dean laughed, holding his hands up in surrender.

“You mean this one?” Roman rumbled, wrapping his right arm around Dean in a chokehold.

Dean made a show of struggling pitifully against Roman, getting Seth and Rome to laugh at his antics. When he was released, however, he immediately spun around and tackled Roman, sending both rolling in the sand.

Seth laughed and joined in, sliding across the beach as a stand in referee.

They ended up a sandy, sweaty mess, laughing and cheering and victorious.

“This is Mitch,” Dean presented, holding said person in his hands.

“Where did you find a volleyball?” Seth said in wonder. They had yet to see any signs of civilization, but if Dean had found a volleyball that meant—

“This is Mitch, ” Dean hissed, upset. “He’s not a volleyball, he’s my friend.”

“Hi Mitch,” Roman said without a single hint of insincerity. “Glad you’re keeping Dean company.”

“Can we talk for a sec, Ro? Just you and I?” Seth asked, interrupting any further conversation with the ball. Dean scowled, but let Seth drag Roman away and out of earshot.

“Why do you always appease him?!” Seth demanded, waving in Dean’s direction. “He’s talking to a volleyball for crying out loud, why are you letting him act crazy?!”

“Why not?” Roman shrugged. “He’s always been a little crazy. But that’s just Dean. Wouldn’t have him any other way.”

“But it’s a volleyball.”

“And it makes him happy, so let him have it Seth.”

“…fine.”

“Ow, shit.”

Roman looked over from where he was hacking at a coconut with a sharp rock to see Seth cradling his left hand over his coconut, his own rock on the ground beside him, blood pooling in his palm.

“Put pressure on it babe,” Roman urged, kneeling down in front of Seth. Seth applied pressure, wincing as he did so.

“How deep do you think it is?” Roman asked, wrapping his own hands around Seth’s.

“Not that deep,” Seth murmured. “Hopefully.” They both watched as blood leaked out from between Seth’s hands, leaving little red stains in the sand.

“I got it,” Roman said, standing up. Seth watched him suddenly take off his tank top, enthralled, but confused.

From somewhere behind Seth, Dean whistled.

“Take a picture Dean, it’ll last longer,” Roman laughed, tearing the shirt apart in his hands. He then tore it further into strips, and, gently prying Seth’s hands apart, wrapped his cut palm with one.

“There,” Roman declared, tying the wrap securely. He bent down and gently kissed the makeshift bandage. “Better?”

“Always,” Seth smiled, resting his good hand on Roman’s cheek. “Thanks Rome.”

“We still need to find fresh water,” Seth noted, surveying what supplies they had collected.

“Mitch knows where we can find some.”

“For the love of god Dean, Mitch is a—”

“Very good friend,” Roman interrupted, throwing a hand over Seth’s mouth.

A short trek through the jungle later, and the Shield (plus Mitch) found themselves sitting on the bank of a freshwater stream.

“His dumb luck never ceases to amaze me,” Seth grumbled, watching Dean walk along the river, chatting with Mitch. “No way that stupid volleyball knew the landscape.”

“You’re just jealous,” Roman teased. “You’re crabby because he’s spending time with Mitch and not you.”

“It’s a volleyball, Ro. ”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“What the hell was that?” Dean hissed, stopping Seth from going any further through the path they had beat into the jungle brush.

“What was what?” Seth said, looking around.

Some ungodly noise, like a cross between a roar and a screech, sounded out, making both Shield members freeze up in panic.

“That!” Dean whispered, shaking off the fear and dragging Seth behind a rock formation close by. “What the hell was that?!”

“I don’t know!” Seth hissed back, risking a peek around the rock, before ducking back quickly.

“Where’s Roman when you need him,” Dean muttered, as another shrill sounded out. “He’s better at all this tropical stuff,”

“That’s racist,” Seth said with a sharp elbow.

“I meant he’s from Florida, numbnuts.”

“Well it’s not like he’s from the Everglades— shit!” Seth breathed, as another terrible sound resounded.

“I wasn’t exactly planning on going out this way,” Dean began, turning Seth to look him dead in the eyes. “But I want you to know that I’ve always hated your taste in music.”

“I love you too—wait what? What do you mean you’ve always hated—oh god is it coming closer?! ” Seth whispers as footsteps could be heard approaching.

“Hi guys,” Roman interrupted, his familiar frame appearing from around the pile of rocks. “What are you doing?”

“Get down!” Seth said, pulling on Roman’s tattooed arm. “There’s something out there!”

Whatever mysterious predator was, in fact, out there took that moment to scream again.

“Jesus,” Roman breathed.

“Quick, Roman, yell back at it!”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You know,” Seth urged, “The thing you do in the ring? Before a spear?”

“That’s actually the dumbest idea,” Dean laughed.

“Well it’s the only one I’ve got!” Seth bit. “Unless you want to try to fight whatever that is!” The screech echoed right on cue.

“Okay,” Roman hastily agreed, standing up and walking around the rock pile. Seth and Dean peeked up from behind to watch.

Roman breathed deep, swinging his arms out wildly while bellowing out a war cry that would have sent an opponent scrambling back up the ramp, had he been in the ring.

A fluttering, shrieking mass of feathers (what was it, a peacock from hell?) flew out of a tree nearby, letting out that ungodly sound as it went.

“It was a bird, idiots,” huffed Roman.

“Awwwwh,” Dean whined, despondent. “I really wanted to see you spear Bigfoot or something.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I am not.”

“You are and it’s adorable.”

Roman and Seth sat poking at the fire, while they watched Dean in the distance sitting and chatting with Mitch.

“Whatever,” Seth dismissed, watching the sparks fly before looking back out at Dean. “I wonder what he’s even saying?”

“—and he’s super tough looking but he’s really just a big teddy bear, I swear. He looks like such a badass putting people through tables and stuff, but damn if he ain’t a big softie,” Dean whispered to Mitch. “And Seth is super smart, and can do all these cool acrobatic moves. People call us ‘wrestling soulmates,’ isn’t that crazy?”

“I just love them both a ton, y’know? Sorry to get all gushy on ya, Mitch.”

“Well hey don’t be telling the fans that, ok? They don’t need to know I’m a sap.”

“Nah, I’m kidding, I know you wouldn’t.”

“Thanks Mitch.”

“I’m not sleeping with the fucking volleyball,” Seth spat.

“It’s Mitch, ” Dean hissed. “And he’ll get cold!”

“Oh my god,” Seth bemoaned, “They warned us you know. ‘It’s not really a gimmick.’ No, of course you had to be actually nuts.”

“Mitch can sleep with us,” Roman invited, ignoring Seth’s rant entirely.

“No, he can’t!”

“Do you want to sleep somewhere else then Seth?” Roman asked with a tone chock full of Don’t-Fuck-With-Me.

“I—no, no I want to sleep here,” Seth mumbled. He couldn’t resist Dean’s grade-A puppy dog eyes anyway. “Mitch can stay.”

“Thanks Seth,” Dean whispered, leaning over and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Seth wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t.

He couldn’t be, not when he was sitting next to the stupid thing, waiting for Roman and Dean to get back with some supplies, right?

Except he wanted to be the only one waiting. The only one they were looking forward to seeing when they returned.

The volleyball isn’t even a person, Seth, part of his brain chided.

Fuck that stupid volleyball, the other part of his brain screamed.

He stole a glance at Mitch. Dean had found some sharpies in their bags left over from autograph sessions and had given the volleyball some sort of smiley face.

A smiley face Seth wanted to punch.

“What Dean doesn’t know won’t hurt him, huh?” Seth muttered, reaching over to pick up the ball and sneering at his stupid inked on face.

Hey fuck you too, Crossfit Weasel Jesus, said a voice.

Seth was suddenly tremendously glad Roman and Dean weren’t around to see him holler and drop the seemingly mundane volleyball in fear.

“Ro, check it out! There’s a cave!” Dean shouted, immediately stepping inside. “Maybe we’ll find some crabs or something.”

“Or maybe an angry dragon,” Roman joked, ducking his head into what turned out to be a relatively spacious cavern.

“We could take out a dragon no problem,” Dean assured, searching around the driftwood.

The rock suddenly shook with the force of the thunder pealing outside; a flash of lightning illuminating the crevices of the cave.

“See? Now you’ve pissed off the dragon,” Roman laughed, wrapping his arms around Dean’s middle.

“Where the hell are they?!” a very damp Seth Rollins demanded while tucked under a cluster of trees.

Maybe they left you for good, a sinister voice snickered.

“Fuck off,” Seth grunted, sneezing. The fire had sputtered out under the assault of the sudden downpour, and Seth was left shivering under what cover he could find. “You’re not even real.”

A gust of wind suddenly rolled the volleyball across the sand, colliding with Seth’s thigh, who looked down at his face in terror.

Am I, Seth? the voice taunted, as thunder roared and lightning flashed, illuminating the menacing marker mug of his rounded rival.

“Shut up,” Seth sneered weakly, as he tried to clear his face of the wet hair plastered to it.

They headed off towards the bluff you know. Probably ended up in a cave.

“You think so?” Seth asked, trying his best to keep his teeth from chattering.

I’d bet on it. I could show you where they went.

“You’d be willing to help me?” Seth asked with astonishment.

Anything to not have to deal with your bitching for a night, Mitch snickered.

“Think he’ll be okay without us?” Dean inquired, shoving his face into Roman’s neck.

“Seth’s a big boy,” Roman assured, brushing through Dean’s greasy hair. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. We’ll climb back up as soon as the rain lets up babe. It’s too dangerous right now. Seth’d kill us if we broke an ankle trying to get back up to him.”

“M’kay,” Dean whispered, trying to absorb Roman’s body heat. He squished in closer, hoping Seth was keeping dry somewhere back at their base camp.

“Fucking ow, ” Seth hissed, as the third—the THIRD—tree branch sprung back and smacked him in the face.

He resolutely ignored the grating cackle from the volleyball cradled in his arms.

The mud had turned the earth into a veritable Slip-n-Slide, and every step Seth took was a chance at being dragged down into it. He found himself windmilling more than once, praying that the goddamn rain would just let up already.

“You had better not be fucking with me,” Seth growled, trudging further in the direction Mitch had dictated. His only reply was another grinding laugh from the volleyball as he continued his fight through the storm.

“BIG DOG! JACKASS! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“Is that Seth?” Roman asked, looking incredulously towards the mouth of the cave. It was hard to hear over the noise of the waves and rain hammering the shore.

“I dunno,” Dean shrugged, getting up to investigate. He cupped his hands around his mouth before yelling “OVER HERE, EDGELORD!” out into the night.

Dean had seconds to prepare before Seth stumbled in, tripping over the driftwood and nearly taking Dean the hell out.

“Hello to you too, Rollins,” Dean laughed, shouldering Seth’s weight. “Enjoy your shower?”

“Screw you man,” Seth snorted, letting the volleyball fall out of his hands. He shook his hair out next to Dean just to spite him.

“You went all the way here in the damn rain?” Roman wondered, coming over to give Seth an inspection. “You’re freezing man, Jesus.”

“Didn’t want to be alone,” Seth explained, trying to wipe his face off with little success. “Didn’t want you guys alone either. I brought the fire starter,” Seth explained, fishing it out of his pockets.

“Thank god,” Dean moaned, snatching it out of Seth’s hands and working on gathering up the driftwood. “I’m sure you slid down here just fine, but we’re stuck down here until the rain stops.”

“Come on,” Roman murmured, tugging on Seth’s waterlogged shirt. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

Though the storm raged outside, the Shield were safe in each other’s arms for another night.

(Mitch didn’t like being left out very much.)

“I swear to God Rome, it’s alive!”

“You don’t believe in God,” Roman hummed, remaining calm where Seth only felt panic.

“I don't—damn it Roman listen to me!” Seth demanded, pounding the sand around him in frustration, having relocated back to base camp when morning came.

“You know I love you Seth, but your neurosis is killing me over here,” Roman grunted, slowly sharpening a homemade spear.

Seth took a deep breath, pushing a few wild curls of dark brown hair back behind his ear. Sure, Roman was the “unshakable” member of the Shield; which was both grounding for Seth, and gave him the urge to punch Roman in the face.

(And then kiss him. You know, apologetically.)

“Ok, one more time, just bear with me, alright? You know I’m only watching out for us.”

Roman grunted a noncommittal noise that Seth took as yes Seth, your paranoia has always been for good reason, please continue.

“The volleyball talks Rome, it actually talks. ”

Roman paused in his whittling to furrow his eyebrows at Seth, who awaited his response with bated breath.

“Are you feeling alright Seth? Have you been sleeping okay?” Roman said, his voice full of concern.

“I’m fine,” Seth sighed. He was weak to a Roman in full Dad Mode™. “I think?”

“Maybe the island’s getting to you. Why don’t you go take a nap?”

“Alright,” Seth surrendered. Maybe he was getting a little island crazy.

Rise and shine, you power ranger wannabe.

Seth’s eyes snapped open at the sound of that absolutely enraging voice.

And no, he totally, absolutely, did not under any circumstances scream at the sight of Mitch right in his face.

Behind him, Dean sat up at the sound of screaming, eyes darting wildly to find an unseen attacker.

“Jesus Seth, where’s the fuckin’ fire?”

“Why is this thing here?” Seth demanded, pointing at the terrifying sight of the volleyball.

“Oh,” Dean said, “Roman said you weren’t sleeping too well so I put Mitch there to help you sleep. Thought we’d join in on naptime.”

Seth just stares at the stupid white ball, unsure of what to say.

“Thanks,” he eventually replies, through gritted teeth.

Seth stealthily strode across the sand, careful not to wake up the sleeping forms of his brothers-in-arms. Night had fallen and he had used the darkness to sneak off with the object of his despisal.

Mitch.

“Alright, just who the hell are you?” Seth whispered, glaring at the terribly drawn on and slightly smudged face of the volleyball. He held it away from him like it was a dangerous animal, ready to claw him.

Mitch, said the round, squishy ball. But you already knew that, didn’t you, jackass?

“I’m hallucinating,” Seth reassured himself, holding the ball up with one hand to inspect it. “I’m dreaming, I’m seeing things…hell, maybe I took a knock in the ring and the island isn’t real at all.”

This ain’t LOST, slimeball, cackled that eerie voice. You’re going crazy, you’re going crazy, it chanted, mockingly.

“Shut up, ” Seth grated, wanting nothing more than to spike it so hard it burned up in the atmosphere. “How can you even talk?”

Wouldn’t you like to know.

“I would! What the fuck is your problem with me?!” Seth crushed the ball between his hands, feeling a little joy when the sides of it pressed in a little bit.

You’re not good enough for them.

“What?”

You heard me. They deserve better. You’re weak, Seth Rollins. Pathetic. You think they love you? How could they?

“No,” Seth said, dropping the ball and watching it roll back, stopping with its Sharpie smirk still looking at him. “You’re wrong.”

Am I? I’m already replacing you. Dean should be spending time with someone who cares.

“I care,” Seth snapped, fists clenching, “I care so fucking much.” He paced closer to shadow the ball, reaching into his pocket to grip the sharpened rock he had taken with him. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t. We could break up to-fucking-morrow and they’d still be my brothers. My family.”

You sure? Maybe you will break up tomorrow. I don’t think Dean will like you threatening his best friend behind his back, Mitch sneered.

“Then I guess we just can’t let him find out, can we?” Seth said, using the voice he normally reserved for promos from an “undisclosed location.” He pulled the sharpened rock out, gripping it like a knife.

What do you think you’re doing—NO! Mitch screamed, as Seth dropped to one knee and slammed the rock into the ball. A small puncture was made, indicated by a quiet hssss noise, and Seth swung again and again to make some more.

He stood back up, looking down at the slowly collapsing ball, watching its face start to droop.

Fuuuuk you Rollinssss, the volleyball slurred, its marker mouth collapsing. ‘Mmm betterrrr than youuuuu’ll everrrrr beee—

“Die,” Seth snarled, executing a vicious Curb Stomp, making the ball instantly flatten with a satisfying pop!

“Hey guys, have you seen Mitch?” Dean asked, interrupting Roman and Seth’s chit chat over the fire.

“Nope,” Roman said, turning over one of the fish he’d (miraculously) speared and was now roasting for breakfast. “I thought he was with you?”

“Nah,” Dean replied. “You seen him Seth?”

“No, sorry,” Seth said, shaking his head. If there’s a hell, I’m going for this , he thought, observing Dean’s reaction.

“Must have rolled off somewhere,” Dean concluded, without a hint of suspicion, much to Seth’s delight. “I’ll find him later. What’s new with you guys?” Dean said, plunking down at the fire pit right next to Seth.

Seth knew he should feel guilty, he should feel remorse, he should be begging for forgiveness from the man he loves. Instead, all he felt was rightness, having Dean’s attention all to himself and Roman.

Fuck that stupid volleyball, he thought, grinning at his brothers.

“Rome, Seth…”

Roman and Seth look over from where they were playing an intense game of sand-drawn checkers to see Dean approaching, head hung low; cradled in his arms the remains of a deflated, mutilated volleyball.

Oh no, Seth thinks. Of course Dean would wander far enough to find where he’d buried Mitch. Of course he would trip over his shallow grave. Of fucking course.

“What happened Dean?” Roman asks, putting his hands on his shoulder comfortingly.

“Just found him buried like this,” Dean whispers. He’s not gonna cry, (even with the two people he trusts the most, it’s too vulnerable an act for Dean) but Seth can tell he’s choking up. It’s heartbreaking, and Seth feels like such a scumbag he wants to run down to the shoreline and let the sea take him away.

“I’m sorry uce,” Roman says, giving Dean a hug. “I know he was your friend.”

“Yeah,” Seth manages to spit out, “I’m sorry Dean.”

“But who did it?” Dean wonders, pulling away from Roman’s arms to look at the pathetic sports equipment’s corpse. “There’s only the 3 of us on this island, as far as we know.”

“You know we wouldn’t Dean,” Roman rumbles, squeezing Dean’s shoulders. “Right Seth?”

Seth, for all his bravado about being “the Architect” and “the man with a plan,” instantly forgets whatever the hell he was going to say when both Dean and Roman look over at him expectantly.

“I uh, yeah,” Seth responds, shifting uncomfortably. Jesus, he can lie through his teeth about anything else, but for some reason him taking away something Dean liked—a stupid volleyball —makes him feel incredibly guilty.

“Seth,” Roman breathes, “You didn’t.”

Seth looks Roman in the eye, but seeing the disappointment on his face, he can’t bring himself to reply.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rollins,” Dean barks, shoving away from Roman to point at Seth, the ‘Rollins’ making Seth cringe. Dean was already pissed, it seemed. “You hated Mitch. Don’t bullshit me.”

“Fine, alright!” Seth shouts, going on the defensive. “I did it. I killed Mitch. He deserved it, Dean. He deserved it. ”

That halts Dean in his tracks, as if he didn’t expect Seth to plead guilty that fast. (Which to be fair, he probably didn’t. Seth just wants this to be over with as fast as possible.) Dean pauses, lowering that accusing finger, the gears in his head clearly turning, his expression changing from anger incarnate to a smirk that should be labeled as a lethal weapon. Roman looks back and forth, torn between defending Seth and backing Dean.

“I’m going to murder you, Seth Rollins,” Dean growls.

Roman suddenly tenses, barely resisting a shudder, seeing the look on Dean’s face. Dean’s always been animated, but it’s as if the Dean he had seen back in FCW, the one with a chip on his shoulder the size of the moon and barbed wire scars that hadn’t faded, had astrally projected onto whatever hunk of rock and sand they had found themselves on.

“And nobody’s gonna find your body,” Dean continues, pacing closer to Seth like a predator, “‘Cause I’m gonna bury it right in this fuckin’ beach.”

Roman isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the sudden mental image of himself in Vince’s office, having to sit in front of his desk and say “I’m sorry Vince, they killed each other over a volleyball, there was nothing I could do—”

The Authority would be happy, at least.

“Dean, I swear, it was for your own good!” Seth shouts, not willing to back down from any fight.

“You murder my friend and claim it’s ‘for my own good?’ That’s rich Seth, even coming from you,” Dean snorts, cracking his knuckles. “My ass, Rollins. Now put up or shut up because—”

“Ambrose! Is that you?”

The Hounds of Justice collectively jump and turn to see none other than Chris Jericho gracefully exit the brush, followed by, oddly enough, Fandango. Both are rocking swim trunks and sunglasses, with Chris exchanging his usual scarf for a brightly colored beach towel. The heat of the moment is lost, the confusion of finding their coworkers defusing whatever was about to go down between brothers.

“Where the hell have you guys been? Management’s been having a field day looking for you all,” Jericho laughs, giving them all an eye over. “What, Reigns decide to give you a tropical tour?”

“That’s racist,” Fandango notes.

“I meant he’s from Florida,” Jericho replies, adjusting his towel-scarf. “Seriously though, where have you been?”

“We’ve been here, on this fucking island!” Seth seethes, his anger from before kicking back up in the face of Jericho’s casual exchange. “How the hell did you even get here?!”

“We walked from the hotel,” Chris supplies. “Y’know, other side of the island, just beyond the river?”

The Shield go dead silent in response, until Seth breaks it with a scream of indignation, spinning on his heels and kicking at the sand behind him. Dean and Roman don’t stop him when he walks several paces down the beach, to continue his tantrum.

“Wait a second, I thought you guys didn’t even like each other?” Dean asks, looking from Chris to Fandango.

“We have tans to work on,” Fandango supplies, in his airy whisper-talk. “Obviously. ‘Mania was the past, our beach bodies are the present and future,” he says, as if his words are sage advice.

“So you guys seriously never walked back to the hotel?” The Man of 1004 Holds wonders, clearly amused by the Shield’s predicament. “I heard Uncle Vince wanted someone to prank you guys, but I don’t think he counted on you being that dumb.”

“Oh yeah? Well I’ll make sure they dump your bedazzled ass on the shore next time,” Roman threatens to Chris, who is now barely containing his laughter. Beside him, Fandango squints at Roman.

“You’re not even a real justice,” ‘Dango says accusingly. “There, I said it.”

“Fan-DANG-oh,” Dean counters, grinning, “Can I get some movie tickets?”

Chris is quick to grab ‘Dango’s arm and drag him off as he starts his rant (It’s Fahn-DAHN-go, you uncultured uggo!) shouting something about seeing them back at the hotel as he leads them to the shore. Seth takes that moment to return, looking decidedly less murderous but very much tired and irritated.

“Were we fighting just a minute ago?” Dean asks Seth, who glances over at him wearily.

“Yeah, I killed Mitch, remember?”

“Oh,” Dean breathes. A sad look passes over his face, but he doesn’t seem nearly as angry as before. “Why ‘ya do it?”

“He kept taunting me. Talked smack like a pro,” Seth chuckles.

“He talked to you?”

“Yes? He didn’t talk to you?”

“Volleyballs don’t talk, Seth. I talked to Mitch, but I thought I just made up his replies in here,” Dean explains, rapping his knuckles on his own forehead. “Right?”

“No, he actually talked to me.”

The Hounds of Justice look at the remains of Mitch with shared expressions of suspicion and possibly terror.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Roman suggests.

“Hell yeah,” Dean agrees, kicking the deflated volleyball somewhere in the distance.

“I call ordering room service,” Seth laughs, beginning the trek to the hotel.

The Shield head off into the jungle for the last time, more than ready to put their island experience behind them, and fight over the hotel room shower.

[fart-gate]

SG1

Season 1 episodes 1 & 2

"CHILDREN OF THE GODS PART 1"

Notes by me 😊

- episode 1

- i just watched the movie like 2 seconds ago so im diving right in here folks lets fuckin goooooo

- poker in the SGC

- how much longer after the movie does this take place?

- nobody believes the lady. Typical

- the gate reveal when the tarp fell off🔥

- lol this is so 90s

- SNAKE PEOPLE

- these guys dont work for Ra do they? The costumes are different

- woa his eyes glow like Ra. Same species? Maybe?

- welp now what. They took that poor lady

- this theme💖💖

- i dont know how I feel about different actors here

- I love RDA from MacGyver but Jack seems very stiff acting wise

- as soon as this guy mentioned "stargate" hes all ears

- he keeps saying "im retired" I dont think he knows that theres like 10 more seasons

- mention of abydos!

- this Jack is alot more sarcastic....i like him

- "Over a year" ah ok so its a year later

- "Daniel was a scientist. He sneezed alot. Basically he was a geek" LMFAO YEAH

- wait wasnt Daniel an archeologist and not a scientist

- alright you can stop busting his balls sir. Daniels alive and well on abydos so pls try not to nuke the place

- this general is an ass

- this is so funny with all these new actors

- "skaara" 💗💗

- oh damn I forgot his son died

- OH MY GOD THE TISSUE BOX LMAO

- waiting on daniels reply. If he replies

- "thanks send more" IM SO EXCITED TO SEE YOOOUUUU

- a woman??? Oooo I feel like I'm going to love her probably. Is she the token woman of the series

- her name is Sam I already love her

- cool! The sexism from what are supposed to be her fellow soldiers is fun to watch

- this is just 8 minutes of her 'proving' that she belongs and I hate it

- Jack and Sam have future lover tropes👀👀 I have a feeling they are going to be good friends tho

- Operation Bring Back Daniel

- abydos status: still a desert

- DANIEL!!!!

-????? This guy acts exactly like james spadder are we sure hes not channeling his spirit somehow

- omg hes so cute??? The floppy hair. glasses boy. Little bean. Little muffin boy. Babey

- AHHH its skaara! Different actor? I cant tell

- share is DEFINITELY a different actress

- omg her and Daniel. So cute

- daniels reaction to sams nerd status

- sha're ??? Is so???? Into Daniel?? And u know what girl thats fair hes adorable.

- party on abydos!���

- LMFAO sha're letting everyone know EXACTLY who Daniel belongs to

- "captain-doctor" you can just say one Daniel its fine

- more gate symbols means more planets!

- "I knew id like you" best friends already????? Dont mind if i do

- *nerd talk*

- SNAKE PEOPLE ATTACK!

- pls dont kill sha're and skaara I dont think i can take sad daniel

- the budget for this show is poor but they really did their best I guess

- oh its the same snake dude from the sgc

- what do you want with them ya weirdo!!

- DANIEL OH GOD DONT BE SAD I LOVE U

- Bossy!jack

-love the tape on daniels glasses🤓 Peak Geek

- "nothing good can come thru this gate!"

"You came thru, daniel"

Im literally sobbing

- group hug bye world

- i was right I cant take sad daniel

- woa they have a shield? "Iris" cool

- hammond is mad at Daniel for leaving in the first place. Lets see how he gets outa this one lads

-- to be continued --

- Episode 2

"CHILDREN OF THE GODS PART 2"

- Hey its the soldier lady! This probably isnt gonna be good

- they just stripped her i am so very uncomfortable

- EW THERES A WORM IN HER STOMACH WTF

- rip soldier lady :(

- this henchmen dude looks like hes having second thoughts about his job lol

- more aliens like Ra who pose as Gods. Are they the worm things like what that lady has. Thats gross.

- everyone rolls their eyes when Daniel speaks. Is it bc hes a nerd. Nerds are usually right pls listen to him

- I'll get banger content with Daniel on the team bc hes the perfect specimen for Needs To Be Protected Because He Is Babey And Has No Combat Experience and a bitch knows thats my favorite type of character

- Jack pushing Daniel ahead of him. They have Big Brother - Little Brother vibes and I live for that

- sneezy!Daniel

- "im not afraid of you!" Thats right sha're!!! No fear!!!😤

- god poor skaara :(

- Daniel in his liddle uniform

- lmao Jack not listening to Daniel rant about symbols

- SHIT sha're was chosen. Also this henchmen dude looks like he does NOT wanna be here

- "she was a gift" not a good way to describe how you met your wife

- Hey Daniel how about dont run up to random strangers. Its episode 2 and you are already so dumb

- is he multilingual? I feel like I knew that but I dont remember

- dinner party! Good im hungry

- "I have no idea" fav Daniel line 💖

- sha're!!! Queen?

- sha're said YEET and chucked Daniel across the room

- Daniel and skaara hug!

- this fuckin henchmen guy

- apophis is the bad guys name

- what the fuck is a goauld

- "Jack help me please" I'm crying in the club

- the henchmen guy nodded?? At Jack??? And Jack nodded back??? What is this

- "something of the host must survive?" The desperation.....

- oh shit not skaara

- Jack bonked by Big Stick

- "I can save these people! Help me" oh my goodddddd

- WE HAVE AN ALLY FOLKS ITS MISTER HENCHMEN DUDE

- daniels glasses askew

- Jack just full on adopted this henchmen

- his name is Tealc!!!! You are now an O'Niell congrats

- hes a 'Jaffa'

- OH THATS NASTY HES GOT A WORM IN HIS STOMACH TOO

- "infant goauld" what the fuck

- he cant take it out so its always with him.......he is pregnant 😌

- I already love him???? Alien man ready to murder the people who enslaved him??? Like FAV trope writers good job

- these effects for the fire fight are actually really good

- Kowalski to the rescue!

- skaara :(

- when Daniel finds the symbols in his little book and hes like oh there they are haha and the rest of them are like DIAL IT ALREADY

- "come on!!!" Impatient!Sam

- at least they got all those people out

- I couldnt be happier with daniels status as Smol Babey of sg1 ✨ its really making my day

- tealc came with them!!! Hes gonna stay right? RiGHT

- group hug for the team!

- Jack found a new best friend in Pregnant Worm Guy

- he wants him to be on the team!!!!! Shut up this is awesome!!!

- a cute shot of the new team in front of the gate💖

- WELL THAT LASTED ABOUT 3 SECONDS! KOWALSKI IS A WORM NOW HIS EYES GLOWED somebody get me my shotgun🔫

- what an episode! A good start to what I'm sure will be an amazing series

~

Whump under the cut

Daniel jackson whump: shot by Big Stick thing, thrown across room, weak, unconcious, crying, coughing

Jack Oniell whump: hit in face by Bi Stick thing, thrown on ground by hand weapon thing, worried

[redbuster8]

J.D. Sadler’s Top 10 Moments from MythBusters: THE SEARCH!

Decided to make my VERY FIRST top 10 list. The reason, The Finale of Science Channel's Mythbusters: THE SEARCH is airing tonight and I thought What better way than to make a List of the best moments in the series. so with that in mind...Here we go

#10: Side Ejector Seats DOs & DON’Ts!

Ejector seats, a staple of almost any spy movie. In the Mega Movie Special, Adam & Jamie tested cliché by creating an air-powered ejector seat (since rockets were a little too unpredictable and the fact they can become BOMBS!) and let me say, It worked.

Now Cut to 2017, Our 10 candidates had to do the same but with a twist: They needed to Build HORIZONTAL Ejector Seats (something I never seen before until that particular episode). Now the 10 split into 2 teams and began to design and then create their concepts. Now for a little lesson in Ejector Seats: When Designing something whose purpose is to remove an unwanted desirable (Examples include An In-Law, An Annoying Gungan who ruined a movie, or quite possibly a Mutant Oompah Loompah with Tiny Hands)...

Make sure it Looks something Like This:

AND NOT LIKE A BABY SEAT!:

#9: Your Friend, Gravity

Gravity, or gravitation, is a natural phenomenon by which all things with mass are brought toward (or gravitate toward) one another, including planets, stars and galaxies. Gravity has been a main staple of MythBusters since it’s first official Myth with it (Barrel of Bricks). Some prime examples of Gravity in action on MythBusters include:

Dropping an Elevator 92 feet down to see if you can survive by Jumping at a specific moment

Jumping over a little red wagon with a bike (or attempting to)

Or more recently, When you test a method of Painting with Explosives via some weights, pressure, and of course, Gravity. Basically what Happened was This: Hackett Designs a possible method for painting with explosives, 

Team builds small scale version to test said method

Team forgets to do the math and learned that a few grams of black powder lifts 45lbs OVER 40 FEET INTO THE AIR! (on the bright side, it proves the old saying “WHAT GOES UP MUST COME DOWN!”)

#8: Boats, Costumes, & Elder Deities

During World War II, Geoffrey Pyke came up with the idea for a huge, unsinkable aircraft carrier for the British Royal Navy made of a material called Pykrete (Which is a frozen composite material made of approximately 14 percent sawdust or some other form of wood pulp (such as paper) and 86 percent ice by weight (6 to 1 by weight). the material was named after ol’ Geoff BTW).  In 2009, Adam & Jamie tested the theory that you could make a boat out of this material (Albeit Jamie used newspaper and created an advanced version of it dubbed “SUPER Pykrete”) and proved it was plausible. In 2017, Our candidates had to test if Cardboard could be used as a material to make a boat (Which they proved it does). but the reason why I picked this to be number 8 is due to the fact that this particular myth had the following:

Boats

Silly Costumes (In which I called the Red team “TEAM RAMBO”)

And the creation of the MythBuster’s version of an Elder God: MYTHULHU!

#7: Bo The MythDog

W.C. Fields once said "Never work with animals or children." Well there are 2 things that I should mention here:

1: W.C. Fields secretly admired children

and 2: He should meet Bo, The official MythDog of the show

Now Bo is a Girl and belongs to  MythBuster Search Contender Brian Louden and has been featured on a few myths and always supporting the team her master is on (And having a blast as well). I think i need to ask Mr. Louden to help me expand on this a little more

On an unrelated note, I have a MythPet as well...His name is Buster, and I named him after Everyone’s favorite Crash-test Dummy

#6: Buster

Speaking of Buster (The Dummy, not the cat), our favorite inanimate fall guy has been through heck & back and still keeps coming back for more in a new form (Like a Timelord). What is there to say about him? Hard working, doesn’t complain, practically indestructible (well, he does lose a few limbs now & then), and a valued member of the Mythbuster team. He recently reappeared in his latest incarnation after being obliterated on a rocket sled into a wall (Something tells me that as long as a fragment of him exist, he can regenerate), has been ejected form a side launching ejector seat and, based on a preview of the Finale, He may be attempting to go into space again via Water Heater Rocket (Didn’t we learn what happened when we tried to launch him via Rocket Throne in Ming Dynasty Astronaut?). If I like to make a suggestion for his next regeneration: I really like to see him use an updated version of his 2.0 design (IE: Breakable bones, Dragon Skin body parts, some sort of flexible skeleton, and a head that wont Crack like in Escape Slide Parachute and is able to hold delicate equipment)

Oh yeah, before i forget and go to Number 5, Did you know there’s a Church Dedicated to Buster?: The First Church of Buster is dedicated to Buster, the crash-test dummy of 'MythBusters' fame. The One True Buster came to us in 1973... General Motors was overcome by the Light and envisioned a creation, one of supreme knowledge and power – The One True Buster. These scientists worked with His hand and built the Hybrid II. Hybrid II is the name that is used by the inter sanctum during the most Holy of services to praise those that have went before him. This is celebrated around the world as the Busterian Ascension.

#5: Hacking with Hackett

Jon Lung (In a David Attenborough voice) Here we find the wild Hackett in his natural habitat, going about his daily routine...

J.D. Salder (In a David Attenborough voice):  He will later take his hunt back to his cave to feed the Young

This is Chris Hackett. Hackett is the one dressed in Black with the giant Scythe. Remember that now.  For those who don’t know, this is not  Hackett’s first time on TV, I remember him from another series Called “Junkyard Wars” (Which in Other parts of the word is known as “Scrapheap Challenge”). He’s also an artist, television presenter, writer, fabricator, alternative engineer, instructor, a co-founder of the Madagascar Institute(an art combine located in Brooklyn, NY), contributing editor for Popular Science Magazine,and was the host of the Science Channel's television show Stuck with Hackett (Where he made a Hot Tub). A 2012 New York Times article entitled "Building a better apocalypse" described him as "something like a fabricator in chief for the Kings County D.I.Y. art set."

A free thinker and a Living Human Paradox (Like me), I think his best creations throughout his Timeline would be:

The Tiki Tank (As a member of the Junkyard Wars team Brooklyn Benders)

The Supersonic Didgeridoo Pulse Jet Drag-boat (Junkyard MEGAWars, As team Captain of the Red team VS. Col. Richard “Dick” Strawbridge (Ret.) of the Blue Team)

The Decapitator (Also from Junkyard MEGAWars)

An Air cannon that launches Bowling Balls (JMW)

A Bucket on a Stick (50 bucks if you can guess which show this came from)

And more recently...THIS LITTLE DEVICE THAT DEMONSTRATES IF GRAVITY STILL WORKS (Or paints a room with explosives...)*!

*I think it’s a gravity Checker

#4: Failure is ALWAYS an Option (And Epic Fails are cool, too)

The main motto of the Mythbusters is “Failure is ALWAYS an option” (The second one being “When in Doubt, Lubricate). it means “any result is a result no mater the outcome”, but it also means something to me and many fans: EPIC FAILS AND COOL STUFF TO GIF! The most memorable to me are:

Pole vaulting a Bike over a wagon

a JATO attached to the rear of a Chevy Impala blowing up on a ramp

And Hackett’s DIY Painting experiment

#3: MythBust Air Flight 2017

OK folks, #3 is about Airplanes, Get into crash positions!

Airplanes and the concept of flight have been the subject of many a myth and always get tested by the Folks at MythBust Air (Who Have a 100% Crash Rating from the Dominate Agency of Mechanical Misappropriation And General Entropy (or D.A.M.M.A.G.E. for short) and still have yet to have a successful flight). From testing Explosive Decompression to MacGyver’s Bamboo Ultralight, things have always been up in the air (per say) for the Mythbusters, But for 2017, Our candidates had to try and Land a small plane (Simulated of course). Needless to say...I think i’ll stick with Brian & Martin for flying a plane...

#2: Teamwork makes the Dream Work

Now on Mythbusters, there have been times where the hosts have competed against each other (Due to the producers on occasion), but most of the time they worked together to get a job done and Bust a myth. A prime example of this was in the Search’s A-Team Episode.

Now the remaining 6 candidates were split up into teams of 3 to test the myth of “Can you build a functional weapon out of junk salvaged from a Scrapyard that can fire cabbages?”. Now the teams had 2 very different concepts for this one: The Blue team based theirs on a Crossbow (A Ballista to be exact) while the Red team went the Air-Powered Cannon Route (However, there was one component of their build that was Still Brand new and was used in a Previous Test and the rules stated that their creations must be made out of Junk found in the yard and they Could use stuff from previous builds and they were Borderline cheating). However, The Blue team were having some trouble building with their Ballista and were running out of time, and with the Red team practically done, What did they do? If you guessed “Leave them in the dust and laugh maniacally”...YOU ARE WRONG! The correct answer was “The red team decided to help them so that the blue team could have a fighting chance and be able to have an honorable battle firing Cabbages at targets.” which is one of the most memorable moments in the competition and renewing my faith in humanity again (Which has a tendency to go up & down on occasion). In the end, No one was eliminated...well...except for this guy:

And my #1 most memorable moment from MythBusters: THE SEARCH Is...

ALLEN PAN STEALING THE BLUE TEAM’S SPY CAR AT THE END OF THE PENULTIMATE EPISODE OF THE SERIES AND RIDING IT OFF INTO THE (Opposite Direction of the) SUNSET!

No explanation for why, I just like this (And i can say this: RUN, ALLEN FOREST, RUN!)

[yasib25]

MacGyver WTF!!!

From day one I was not very impressed with the way MacGyver was written but still i gave the show a chance hoping that it would pick up and be better, and i saw signs of that going forward. But last night my disappointment was at an all time high! I mean seriously Thornton is the Mole?

And Nikki is working a deep cover Op.

I don’t have a problem with Nikki working  deep cover, the audience never needed to be in on that. What i have a problem with is how easily they were convinced, especially Mac. I mean the girl had him shot for god sake, even if he believed her there story, there should at least be a little bit of friction. Her betrayal should run deepest in him, he should be the one to hang back outta fear of getting duped again, we’re human its how we’re wired.

The overall big picture of MacGyver is a good one, but its the little things, they don’t sit well with me. Like i said, I don’t really care if Nikki was undercover, i never really cared for the character really, it bugs me how easily Mac bought her story and how quickly the rest just fell in line. And in the same breath and without reasonable doubt, believe that Thornton is a traitor. Again big picture great! The head of the Phoenix organization, their boss an friend for all these years is a traitor, it’s a good story but its the way it all unfolds that has me foaming at the mouth. One thing we were sure about since the start of the show is that Nikki was a traitor, she was Mac’s bitch of a girlfriend who had him shot and ran off with the bad guys. And aside from her showing up one time asking Mac if he was sure he was on the right side of things, there was nothing else to make us doubt whether or not she was a traitor. As for Thornton, was she a stick in the mud? Yeah, was she a sticker for the rules? Hell yeah! What we didn’t see or hear was any mention of a mole. This Mole and undercover CIA storyline just came out of the blue and was wrapped up in a split second. And what i don’t understand is why Mac and Jack would even consider Thornton, Riley and Bozer found proof of a mole, but the identity of the Mole was still a mystery. So why suspect this woman, who was your boss, who had your backs when you were out in the field risking your lives, who was your FRIEND?

Fine there was no mention of a mole for over 10 episode, but what was also lacking was any indication that it could be Thornton. I didn’t watch last night and said, “Oh now it all make sense! Why she was always disappearing or why she was acting a certain way,” nothing. They were a well oiled machine, you could always rest assure that MacGyver was gonna save the day.

I know him failing would defeat the whole Houdini purpose since that’s what the show is about, but just once i would like to see him struggle, and not figure out the solution to the problem in 2 seconds. It doesn’t make the character relatable. See this is not the 80s, today everyone’s a critic. I’m sitting on my sofa right now writing this post, and I’m not even a professional blogger, I’m a background singer who loves movies and Tv shows, so i blog when i see something that I’m passionate about be it good or bad. These days i realize, people are looking for the real in everything, they watch a horror film and they wonder “why is she hiding in the closet? that’s the first place they’ll look.” Or in an action flick, “yeah, there’s no possible way he could shoot out that tire and the car just blow up like that.” See back in the day things like that would fly because no one cared about real they cared about being entertained, the bigger the blast the better.

I remember when i was a kid watching the old Macgyver, and as kids we were all fascinated with how he was able to figure his way out of any situation with just a  knife but the old enthusiasm for Macgyver evaporated into a more cynical disillusion so the same kinda stuff ain’t gonna fly. Make it a challenge, make him stumped, make us sweat wondering “Is he he gonna figure it out, and is he gonna make it in time?” Yeah, this is my not so subtle way of saying MacGyver is not relatable. There’s quick thinking and then there’s Mac, he’s too perfect, i wanna see struggle.

All that said, the biggest thing that ticked me off the most was Thornton being the mole, they could have handled that WAY better. Seeing as there was no mention of a mole and there was not even an inkling that it could have been Patricia, they could have played with it a little, stretch it out, let her start acting suspicious, throw in a few curve balls, “why is Jack talking to that Shady guy could he be the mole?” “Oh Riley is meeting with those guys again, But i thought she was doing it to save her mother, is she the mole, what is that about?” Yeah I’m no writer but i know what I’d like to see. I believe is the idea of the show, but i don’t like the way its coming across. The writing could be SO much better!

[swipe-date-com]

How to Make Mr. Unavailable Change His Tune

Dear Dignity Dater,

Wow, I’m humbled by all the kind words you’ve been sending in response to my emails over the past few days. Just like you, being vulnerable (especially on the Internet) is a risk.

I’ve been sharing some of the deeper pieces of my personal story to share the mistakes I made and the steps I took (even though I felt like my entire identity was being shaken to the core).

Hopefully, my stories help inspire you to see why you may be stuck in your journey to find love.

If you’ve been reading these long-ass emails, I bless you. If you haven’t, and you want to catch up, you can do it here.

>>Click Here for Part 1<<

>>Click Here for Part 2<<

In the meantime, I promised to tell you what happened after “Mr. Quality Casual” outed me as “emotionally unavailable”—in short, telling me I was nothing other than a 100 percent Grade A “Miss Quality Casual” myself.

Wait… I’m unavailable??

I gotta tell you, I was pissed.

I had been doing a TON of freakin’ work on myself. I thought that once I’d released the “I’m not good enough” way of thinking and being, then dating and finding a loving relationship was going to be easy.

But not so. Not so at all…

I know you may relate. I mean, come on, if you’re in my community, this isn’t your first personal development rodeo. You’ve probably handled much of the “childhood wounding.” Maybe you’re even happy (like I was).

After all, if you’re like I was, there’s a certain ease to being single. You have your routine. You do things your way. You work. You have friends. You’re a great auntie or even grandmother, perhaps.

Life doesn’t necessarily SUCK. Let’s be honest. You get to be selfish (even if you have kids or parents; you do it on your terms).

You hardly ever have to compromise and can watch Netflix whenever you want in your fat pants. You can sit around with your single friends and blame the town you live in for single-ness and revel in the fact that dating is hard. And that being single sucks. But when push comes to shove, the truth is, in some ways you kind of like life in your fat pants.

When it came down to it, most of the time I preferred a late night sweat at yoga, a long hot shower, and then my bed to eat cereal, watch chick TV, or read the next work of literary genius for book club.

Why? Because it was easy. Comfortable.

We do this because we don’t have to venture out of our comfort zone. We don’t have to experience disappointment or rejection. We convince ourselves we don’t care. We try to accept that maybe we’re the girls who were meant to “rock being single.” And in the end, we feel safe that we don’t have to show anyone who we are on the inside. As for being vulnerable, well, that fits into the category of “hell no.”

Here’s why when Mr. Quality Casual called me out, it hit me hard.

Check out this excerpt from an essay I wrote seven years ago at the age of 42.

Had my state-of-the-art security system I had built around my heart become so secure it had left me unable to let in any possibilities—even the possibility of love? Had I removed all possibility from my incoming possibilities because it was simply easier to put each man I dated, slept with, or even looked at in some sort of predetermined category, neatly sorted, grouped, and stored in my mind? “Too young.” “Probably wants kids.” “No chemistry.” “Too busy.” “Too old.” “Too focused on work.” Or how about something as simple as, “Doesn’t text back immediately?!” And, in this perfect psycho-arrangement, it enabled me to put the wrong-ness right back on them: the “hims.” Yet while I claimed I was ready for love, I had kept men at three arm’s lengths away, safely putting the blame on the “hims” for not wanting more.

And so I bitched. Whined. Complained, stating that there was a critical lack of possibilities living in the greater Los Angeles area. They sucked, not me. But then damn Mr. Quality Casual called me out and the gig was up. I had been busted. And while it would have been less painful to keep categorizing and perfecting my version of the “Heisman” (as in Heisman Trophy, the statue of the football guy strong-arming his opponent), I knew that my heart wasn’t really digging life in Fort Knox. My heart was big, loving, filled with mojo, and reaching desperately for light. For love. Thus, I realized it was time to MacGyver a new plan: a plan to bust her out! A plan to experience each possibility for the magic of what it could bring. It was time to let go of expectation, leave yesterday’s yuck in yesterday, and live each moment exactly in the moment. But how?

How can a woman who has had her heart shattered (And who hasn’t?) be truly free from letting the memories of yesterday’s pain impact her possibilities? After nearly half a lifetime of living one way, can I really expect to free my heart? Sure, I’ve chipped away at it. Therapy. Girl talk. Hell, even Cosmo. And, of course, time. But my heart, my HUGE heart, wanted true freedom. My heart wanted more than dinners and booty calls. My heart wanted to be held. Touched. My heart wanted to give not to get, but just to give. My heart wanted to love.

And as I pondered, analyzed, and therapized, I got an inkling that perhaps this Fort Knox approach to keeping my heart safe was all wrong. Dan had noticed. Perhaps Alex had noticed. Maybe Justin, Patrick, and Michael had noticed too? Perhaps, in fact, I had moderated my feelings so well, so fearful of the little spark possibility births when born into the center of my chest, that I had prevented the possibility of real love from coming into my life. Maybe, I considered, I should allow it, letting possibility unleash its ball of fiery white energy into my gut. Maybe I needed a jackhammer to tear down the walls protecting my Gran Torino heart?

[asflowersfade]

Ficlet: Guardian Devil

Another MacGyver reboot fic. Mac’s taken. Jack and the others receive help from a very unexpected source. 

Mac disappears on a Tuesday afternoon.

He tells them he needs to change and pick up some things from home for the upcoming mission, and that he will meet them at the Phoenix Foundation in two hours. He doesn’t come back.

They wait and then they get nervous and they call him, once, twice, but nobody picks up. Riley checks the GPS on Mac’s phone and her computer tells them that he’s still at home. Which is… odd. Mac’s rarely - if ever - late!

And so they drive there to check on him, Jack, Bozer and Riley. If he’s alright, he can chew them out for overprotectiveness. Better safe than sorry.

The house’s tossed, furniture overthrown or broken, windows smashed - and there, on the floor in the middle of the mess, Mac’s phone. And what’s more disturbing, his Swiss Army knife.

Riley immediately accesses the security cameras outside; she helped Mac set them up in the bushes both in the front and in the back after Murdoc’s attack on Bozer. Bozer didn’t know about them and he would feel violated if not for what the footage shows them.

A group of men, six of them and all in black, disabling the alarm and going in right before the dawn, while Mac and Bozer were still stuck in the lab. Then Mac returning home three hours later. And then, then the men coming out again with one of them, a brute mountain of a guy, carrying an unconscious Mac over his shoulder.

Jesus!

Matty calls in forensics. She calls in all her people to work on Mac’s case. She calls in every favor, every piece of goodwill she’s ever garnered from any agency she can think of. But nobody seems to know anything - or they aren’t telling, and if that’s the case then Matty will have to rip someone’s balls off once this is over. 

And the clock’s ticking.

Mac’s gone two hours… then five… seven… ten… and they still have no clue who took him, not a shred of information or evidence that would point them in the right direction. And they’re all anxious and snappy, taking their fear out on each other and then immediately apologizing, because this is not helping Mac.

And then, then Jack’s phone rings. And it’s the last person they would expect.

“Still no clue who took your boy, Jack?” the voice on the other end of the line asks in a slightly mocking tone.

“Murdoc!” Jack growls. “I should’ve known it was you--”

“Ah-ah-ah,” the killer interrupts him, “you’re jumping to conclusions and costing MacGyver valuable time.”

Trace it, Jack mouths at Riley who nods and immediately gets to work while Bozer and Matty take an anxious step closer.

“I wasn’t the one who stole Mac,” Murdoc continues, then he adds in an amused voice, “if it were me, you would never know and you would never find us, of that I can assure you.”

Jack grits his teeth. “If it wasn’t you then who?”

“Bad people, Jack, very bad people,” Murdoc says, sounding disappointed with the state of the world. “Remember the man who took you prisoner months ago? The one who used the truth serum on you in his very primitive underground lair? A very barbaric method, if I may say so!”

Jack narrows his eyes and his heart leaps into his throat. Jesus, if it’s those people… Jesus! “Yes, I remember,” he says.

“Well, that gentleman’s associates took offense to your arrest of him. It seems they want revenge,” Murdoc explains.

Riley gestures to Jack to keep the killer talking. So Jack does. “And you know that how?”

There’s a pause. And when Murdoc replies, his voice is so cold and creepy that it sends shivers down Jack’s spine, “Because I’ve been watching MacGyver, of course. What a fascinating specimen, our Mac. I came to the rather surprising conclusion that I couldn’t just let him go. And so I’ve been following his every move ever since I escaped.”

Fuck. Fucking Christ! Jack’s scalp prickles and his hands turn clammy. That psycho had Mac in his sights the whole time? And nobody knew? Nobody noticed?

Murdoc continues, “I saw them take him. I admit I was rather disappointed that he let himself be taken, but then, there were six of them and he was alone - you left him alone, Jack! You left him alone, maybe I should punish you for that, for allowing these very bad people to take what’s mine.” He clucks his tongue in reproach.

“Mac’s not a thing, not anyone’s property. And he’s certainly not yours!” Jack snaps, finally losing it with this madman.

Got it, Riley mouths, giving him the thumbs up. She pinpointed Murdoc’s location.

Murdoc chuckles. “We’ll see about that. Now,” his voice turns very business-like, “did your lovely Miss Davis finally trace me? I’m starting to feel rather awkward, standing here in broad daylight. What if MacGyver’s kidnappers noticed me?”

They all exchange startled looks.

“Do hurry up, Jack,” Murdoc chides. “Or I’ll have to go in myself and then I would have to kill them all and that would be a real mess. And I would hate doing that. When I take Mac, I want him in a pristine condition. In which he isn’t right now.”

And then he hangs up.

They locate Mac in an abandoned but heavily guarded cabin in the hills outside LA. Their strike force, led by Jack, of course - as if he would allow someone else to head the operation to save Mac! - hits the cabin hard. Five of their enemies end up dead, three badly wounded. But Jack doesn’t give a damn. All he cares about is getting to Mac.

He finds him in the back room, bloody and beaten, lying in a crumpled heap on an old mattress in the corner. Jack yells for a medic, then he drops to his knees by Mac’s side, checking for pulse and finding it weak and thready but there.

And when Mac jerks away a little, barely conscious, and groans in pain, Jack smooths the hair off his bruised forehead and whispers, “It’s me, it’s Jack. It’s Jack. I’m here, shh, I’m here!”

Jack’s sitting by Mac’s hospital bed, guarding him - his kidnappers are dead or in custody, but Murdoc is still out there, maybe watching them right now - when his phone rings. He picks it up. “Yeah?”

“How is he, Jack?”

Murdoc!

Jack takes a deep breath, pushing down his fury. Madman or not, Murdoc did help them save Mac. He did help them. He did help them. Jack will still rip his heart out next time he sees him!

With his eyes on Mac who’s deeply asleep now, bruised all over but with no life-threatening injuries, thank God, Jack replies, “He’ll be fine.” And then, because he doesn’t want to owe anything to anyone, not even to a crazy hired killer, he says, “Thank you for helping us find him.” The words turn sour on his tongue.

There’s a chuckle. “My pleasure. Give him my regards when he wakes up.”

As if, Jack growls silently.

“And, Jack?” Murdoc adds. “Do keep him safe until I come for him? I would hate to have to find him for you again!”

Before Jack can respond - he would’ve probably said something very rude, he would’ve maybe even yelled - Murdoc hangs up and Jack has to restraint his urge to smash his phone to pieces. Murdoc can bet his ass that Jack will keep Mac safe - especially from creeps like him!

Jack moves his chair closer to Mac’s bed and turns it so that he can keep both the window and the door in sight. He doesn’t sleep that night. He doesn’t sleep for many nights afterward.