#not that he is old he is only 51 and looking fine

[calisources]

WALTER EMANUEL JONES AS ZACK TAYLOR IN POWER RANGERS: ONCE AND ALWAYS (2023) THE NETFLIX SPECIAL.

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Walter Emanuel Jones ( b. 1970 ) is an African American actor. Walter is known for his role as Zack Taylor in the Original Power Rangers series. He is reprising his role for this special.

Icons only have him unmasked (you can see the suit but no helmet on site).

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there are like 6 icons of a flashback scene of his time in the original show.

ICON COUNT: 351 icons FIND: here.

[sunflowersteves]

come and get your love || j.m.

chapter one of ain’t no sunshine

pairing || joel miller x f!sunshine!reader

summary || someone across the Tipsy Bison had their hand on you all night. how long will Joel Miller take to do something about it?

author's note || first part of the series! all of the chapters can be read as a stand alone, but they do go in order of a time line. hope you all enjoy <3 4.1k words

warnings || jealousy, insecurities, angst, toxic people, possessiveness, fluff, 10 year age gap (joel is 51), SMUT, praise kink, oral sex (f rec), cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, [18+ only]

series masterlist || masterlist

Hail, with it, baby, 'cause you're fine And you're mine, and you look so divine

Joel’s eyes lingered on your form from across the bustling bar. It was in the middle of a Wyoming summer, so you wore a pretty light blue sundress. You could feel the cool breeze brush up against your thighs and the sun beating down on your skin just from the dusty windows. 

You came home one day, telling Joel and Ellie that you traded some old tactical pants for the frilly dress. Joel choked on his morning coffee when he caught a glimpse—Ellie just laughed and laughed. And now, you looked unbelievably perfect, all while you fluttered around the chairs and tables in the Tipsy Bison, talking with friends and newcomers. 

Although, his soft, love-sick eyes started to harden as they continued to follow you. 

The mere sight of someone flirting with you—a shoulder leaning on a support pole with sparkling eyes—was going to send his old bones into a coma. He was sure of it. Joel's chest started to burn from a sizzling rage that crept up to his cheeks. 

You were as friendly as you could be with a beer in your hand and a laugh escaping your lips. He knew you were oblivious to the flirting. You always have been. 

A couple of years ago, along the endless roads of traveling to get Ellie where she needed to go, Joel had been trying to get your attention for weeks, despite his damn self-sabotage that forced himself to avoid you in the previous months before. Ellie saw through it, though. Tommy saw it too. Hell, even Tess saw through it. The one person who had not seen just how much Joel was infatuated and hopelessly in love with you was, well, you. 

He thought that it was because he was rough and unrestrained. Joel was a jagged edge of a rock that cut deep into anyone that came near him. He thought you might not want to be with him and all of his baggage.

You were the exact polar opposite of him. You were a ray of sunshine—a burst of fresh air that knocked the breath out of his lungs. You could handle yourself out there in the depths of survival. He did not doubt that, but you were still warmhearted and sweet. You were what the rest of the world seemed to have forgotten.

Turns out, though, he couldn't have been more wrong. 

Your mind and body were washed over with every essence of Joel. When his hand was on your back to gently guide you through rugged terrain or when you instinctively grabbed onto his upper arm when a lone stranger bumped into your third-person party—your mind becomes blank.

The only thing, you said when you finally confessed, you could think about was Joel. Your body would freeze, and time would slow, your heart the only exception as it beats so rapidly you thought it might burst. So, in the end, Joel finds himself elated with pride and pure adoration that he was able to make you feel so free—so full of love.

“Are you gonna do something? Or are you just going to sit here and be ‘old-man’ sad?” 

Joel snapped out of his daze, turning his head toward Ellie. She had her eyebrow raised, with a hand on a freshly opened beer bottle. 

“Gimme that.” He muttered under his breath and swiped the bottle away from her. She let out a small, “Hey! You dick!” before huffing in frustration. “You ain’t even eighteen yet.” He slid the bottle over to Maria, who nodded back to Joel. “I’m almost eighteen!”

He huffed, ignoring Ellie’s comment. “And no. She’s got it handled.” 

You were probably the friendliest, kindest person that Ellie had ever met—especially in this shitty, fucked up world. Along the dusty gravel roads of travel, you would hold her hand and swing back and forth as Joel trailed not far behind. At night, you would shuffle your sleeping bag closer to hers, so you could laugh and giggle at her pun book until falling into a distant slumber. In the mornings, when you and Joel were keeping watch, and a lone stranger would interrupt your three-person party, you jumped in front of Ellie and pointed your shotgun at the intruder. You turned quickly, if not instantly, into a mother figure for her. 

So, Ellie knows that you have got it far from handled. She knows you are completely unsuspecting of the person that was practically throwing himself on top of you. 

“Yeah, you are so full of shit.”

Now, in your defense of the flirting, everyone in Jackson knew not to make a move on you. It has been established from the very beginning that you and Joel are made for each other. All you could ever see was each other. Always. 

So, at the end of things, when someone walked up to you with a bright smile and a gleam in their eyes that screamed “please fuck me,” you didn’t think anything of it. Your mind was no doubt in a Joel Miller trance—thoughts rolling over one another about the plains of his skin and the gruff feeling of his patchy beard on your fingertips. But when a newcomer comes along in the commune and gets introduced to everybody, that’s when they try to make their mark on you. 

“She’s fine—”

“You sure, Joel?” His eyes flickered back towards you and saw the newcomer squeeze your forearm. You think nothing of it and crack another joke at who you thought was a new friend, causing them to throw their head back in very exaggerated laughter. 

And now, Joel wasn’t sure at all—not with the bubbled-up feeling that wrapped around his chest and sunk down into his stomach. He grunted out in response to Ellie, who rolled her eyes at his demeanor. Yeah, he was far from sure. 

“Go say something, Grandpa—”

He raised his eyebrow, “hey—”

“Ellie’s right, you know.” Joel’s head whipped around at Tommy’s voice. “She doesn’t even know the guy’s flirting. She’s too trustin’ of people.” 

He gave his older brother a little smile—an all too knowing teasing smile. Joel didn’t say anything, just downing the rest of his whiskey. The ice clunked against the glass, and the two next to him just watched with anticipation. 

“Your brooding is scaring the customers away. Go say somethin’, Joel.”

He ponders for just a moment—mind circling around all of the different thoughts in his brain. He knows you are just fine. He knows you wouldn’t ever do anything of the sort.

If you actually knew that the man was flirting with you, you would stop it immediately. You’re just kind. You just wanted to make friends. He wanted you to make friends in this little town you had learned to love.

Before Joel even knows it, though, he's getting up from the stool. His own heart had taken over his body and ran home with it. He could just barely hear Ellie cheer for the old man to do something. 

His boots were heavy as he walked across the bar, his wrinkled eyes hardening with every step. His heart squeezed at the pure sight of you—a smile almost turning his frown up. That is until the squeezing of his other thoughts from the man right in front of you suffocated his chest. 

“Joel!” 

God, you sounded so sweet. Your eyes lit up so bright he thought he might be blinded. Whatever you were talking about with your new friend, it completely went out the window when you heard the stomps of his boots. 

“Hi, darlin’.” 

His hand ghosted the small of your back, and it almost caused you to shiver. You looked up at him with a pretty smile, opening your mouth to let him in on the conversation. “We were just talking about patrols. I was saying how we saw that bear with the three cubs the other day! and—”

“Can we help you?” The man, you knew as Brad, scowled right up at Joel for interrupting the conversation the two of you were having earlier. Oh, Joel did not like Brad. The scrunch of his nose as he tried to challenge Joel—as if you were a possession—was kicking up a deep rage in his chest. 

Joel opened his mouth to respond but was met with a very enthusiastic smile from you. You looked so excited. “This is Joel! He’s my—”

Brad rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s great. Could he leave now?”

Joel’s back stretched at the complete disrespect. He could handle people being mean to him just fine. When it comes to you, however, he wouldn’t tolerate anything of the sort. You were the thread that kept Ellie and Joel sane with your homemade gifts and fluttering smile. No one was going to ruin that on his watch. 

Joel watched as your bright, smiling face fell.

“Oh.” 

You felt your heart deflate from being interrupted again. It took a lot for someone to build you down, and Brad had managed to do it in no time. You thought you had made a new friend to hang out with. You thought you were finally getting along with someone in Jackson. 

Watching your face fall made something click in Joel’s head. His burning glare never left Brad’s face as he continued to run his mouth about Joel ‘needing to leave’ or something like that. This is why he hated newcomers. They think they could take advantage of your kind gestures and bring you down with them. 

Brad looked at you and then Joel—as if something finally fits in his head. He clicked his tongue, “I have been trying to get you home all night. Don’t tell me you were with him the whole time?”

“What?”

You looked bewildered at the insinuation of ever getting with Brad—let alone anyone that isn’t Joel. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

If Joel wasn’t preoccupied with watching Bradley’s every move, he would’ve snorted at your change in demeanor. You could be the biggest angel there is, but there is no doubt a fire lit right inside of you.

“I have been here with you all fucking night. You think I’d waste my time talking about shitty flowers with you?” His lips curled into a sniveling smirk.

Your hand clenched by your side but was caught as Brad’s hand went to tighten itself around your wrist. You tried to wriggle your way out of his grip, but it felt too firm. “Why don’t you ditch the old man and come with me, sunshine.”

Joel saw the hand on your wrist—the bruising grip he had on you. He saw the sickly, lust-filled eyes that the man was giving you. He knew you could handle yourself. You could throw this random man over your shoulder like he was nothing. 

But something struck him even deeper.

Sunshine.

That was what Joel called you in the secret comfort of whispered feelings. It was what Joel called you when you were badly injured, and he needed to disinfect the wound. The first time it popped into his head was when you were dancing around with Ellie underneath the morning sun. The cute nickname just stuck, and it was his.

Only his. 

Joel snapped in an instant. The long years of survival worked quickly in his brain. He bunched up Brad’s collar and shoved him hard against the wooden pole—jolting his hand from your wrist. “Get your fucking hands off of her.”

You gasped at the lightning speed of Joel’s hand on Brad’s chest, but you weren’t too phased. Adrenaline shot through your chest and spread down to your toes—eyes locking on Joel’s crinkled brows and hard-set glare. 

“Yeah? The fuck you gonna do?” Brad spat.

The bar went silent at the altercation, eyes darting to watch the scene play out. You didn’t pay any attention, though. Your eyes were on Joel. Just Joel.

Brad squirms a bit underneath Joel’s stare, but he seems to be trying to remain tough. Joel’s grip never wavered and almost shoved him further into the pole. 

“If you ever touch her again, I’ll break your fuckin’ arms.” His accent slurred together with each click of his tongue. 

You could feel the fire pulsating through his lips; you could feel it radiate off of his clenched fist. Joel squeezed even tighter against his neck, almost suffocating some of the air in Brad’s throat. He then let out a wheeze, eyes widening at just how serious Joel Miller can be. 

“You got it?” Brad’s eyes squinted at Joel before looking into the crowd around him. Terrified of all the stares and the overwhelming frown on people’s faces—and quite frankly, Joel—Brad finally backs off. 

“Got it.” He said under his breath with a slight cough. Joel very slowly let go of his collar in caution of the man. Brad just nodded, now refusing to make eye contact with the two of you, before sauntering off out of the bar.

Not far behind, Tommy and Maria were alert and watched Brad’s every movement. They had both of your backs as soon as they saw Joel shove him into the pole. Even Ellie was on high alert, which almost caused her to grab the knife in her pocket. 

Joel turned to you in an instant. His eyes glossed over your entire form, grasping every single detail to make sure you were okay. His eyes stopped at the slight tear in your favorite dress. He pursed his lips in annoyance, but then his eyes locked onto your wrist. 

“C’mon. I need to see your wrist.”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

He took you into the back where the aging room was—old barrels full of whiskey and rum stacked high along the walls. He sat you down on a wooden table and went to go find some supplies. 

You sat there, feeling like you were in trouble. Joel hadn’t said a word, and your mind was starting to race at the possibilities of what he was thinking. While it wasn’t abnormal for Joel to act like this, you knew something wasn’t right.

You could see it in his calculating eyes and furrowed eyebrows—the harsh smile lines on his cheeks almost seemed deeper. You could see it in the way that his hand trembled when he moved some papers to the other end of the table.

You felt stupid for not seeing that Brad was flirting with you. God, you felt so dumb. You really thought that you were making a new friend. You felt even dumber that you couldn’t see the hostility in his eyes, either.

What was Joel thinking? Did he hate you? You knew you mistake people’s flirty gestures for friendly acts way too often.

Did it hurt him? Tears started to form on your lash line, and that sunken feeling in your chest only deepened. 

Joel finally came back with a pack of ice and a little box of first aid. He wrapped a rag around the ice so it wouldn’t burn your skin. 

“Here.” He gently placed it onto your skin, and you went to hold it down. You feel your eyebrow twitch in a cringe at the already bruised surface. You hear Joel digging through the kit in haste—no doubt trying to find some kind of ointment.

You closed your eyes. Your chest was heaving up and down at the thought that Joel had to sit here and take care of you, all while you fucked everything up. 

“I’m sorry.”

Joel’s rummaging through the first aid abruptly stopped. He turned to you with confused furrowed brows, but then his eyes widened. He saw your glossy eyes as you tried to avoid his stare. He saw the way your lip slightly wobbled while you tried to hide your emotions.

“It’s all my fault.” 

You said barely under a whisper, but you were on the side of his good ear. He heard you, and damn, his heart couldn’t have been more crushed. You didn’t do a single thing wrong, and yet you blamed yourself.

“It ain’t your fault. None of it was your fault.” He could tell, though, by the look in your eye that you weren’t convinced. He goes to open his mouth, but you beat him to the punch.

“But I should have known!” You flexed out your hand to emphasize the situation. “I should have said something or got the fucking hint!”

You let out a fast breath, eyes darting across the wood floor. His eyes flickered to the ice pack you set back on the table. “I should—I shouldn’t have been so nice! Maybe I could be less—”

Joel snapped back at the realization of what you were going to say. “Don’t you dare.” His hand instinctively lays on top of your thigh. “Don’t you ever change for people like him.”

“But I–” His hand rested so soft on your cheek, and whatever you were going to say died on your tongue. He was inches away from you now, your chests almost touching together. 

“I know my words are shit, but you are everything, darlin’. You are the kindest and brightest person that I’ve ever known.” He finally rested his forehead against yours. “Don’t you even change for me, darlin’.”

You nodded against his forehead with a small smile on your face. You knew he was right. Of course, he was right. Brad was the shithole, not you. 

He leaned in to brush his lips against yours—feverish and light as you felt the scruff of his beard against your cheeks. He licks into your mouth, and you find yourself pulling him in closer from his flannel collar. 

His tongue swirled through your mouth from desperation starting to lock inside his chest. You have made him feel all kinds of things over the years, but pure love was something he still couldn’t get used to. He needed to feel you—needed to touch you. After the searing memory of Brad’s hand on your wrist, he needed to be inside of you.

“Sweet girl,” he almost purred into your mouth, “need you.” 

You nodded into his lips. A whine escaping them seemed to be the only thing that your brain could come up with. In a mere matter of seconds, Joel was able to turn you into a puddle. 

“Need to hear it, darlin’.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Need you, Joel. Please—”

He bunches up the silky dress, and his eyes shine bright as he sees your pretty laced panties. They were dark—a black onyx—that made Joel want to drool. They rested so well on your hips—so tight. He knew there was a wet patch near your core, too.

His nimble fingers shoved your panties aside to dig—just a little—into your dripping folds. He groaned, rough and bold against the plains of your ear. “J-Joel—”

You knew by the slow, agonizing pace that his hands seemed to feel you in, Joel was going to fuck you stupid. He always got slow and steady when he knew he was going to take his sweet, sweet time. 

“Oh! Oh fuck,” the pads of his fingers move to the nub of your clit. They swirled in small circles, and your hands gripped his shoulders so tightly. Your jaw hangs slack as you feel the pleasure blossom through your stomach to your chest.

“That’s it. Yeah. Does that feel good, pretty girl?”

He was smirking, just a little. You could tell by the sound of his voice, but you see the way his lips slightly curled when your eyes flickered up to his.

“Feels so good, Joel—so—so good.” His other hand spread your legs a little wider for him, relishing in the soft pillows of your skin and curves. He gave your thigh a small squeeze before sinking onto his knees.

Your eyes were about to pop out of your head. “Joel—” You warned, honestly concerned about his knees, but the thought quickly left when his other hand shuffled your underwear down to your ankles. He dragged your hips forward so that your ass was hanging just barely off of the wobbly table. 

“Fuck. Look at you drippin’ for me.”

His eyes shined underneath the yellow-hazed lights. His head goes to dip into your folds, and he moans—sending a rough vibration to your folds. You tasted just the same—earthy and sour and so so sweet.

His hand dug into your thigh—the pad of his thumb was pressing deep into your skin. His tongue flicked and swirled to gather up that slick that dripped from your folds. He felt addicted to you—you tasted, felt, looked, and sounded so ethereal. 

“Oh, Joel—” He could have you on his tongue for the rest of his fucking life. The way you call out his name—hands desperately grabbing at his salt and peppered hair and whimpers leaving your lips. “F-Fuck, I–”

Your brain became even mushier with each flick and whirl of his tongue around your folds. “Can’t get enough of this pussy.” He gruffed.

His mouth moved to your swollen clit, and your hips involuntarily jumped—slightly closing around his head. He pried your thighs open with his rough, used hands before shoving them over his shoulders. 

You didn’t have time to react, though. Not when he was moving a finger to tease your folds. “Joel! Oh my god—” You could only whimper and shout his name. You moan, you gasp, and you whimpered even more. 

It’s all you could think about. Joel Joel Joel. He was all you ever seem to think about. 

His finger slid easily into your sopping cunt, and you moaned into the air. His tongue lapped and sucked against your swollen nub—finger simultaneously curling into you.

“Oh, Joel, I-I can’t—”

His mouth left you, only for a moment, but a whine escaped your lips.

“Gonna cum already, darlin’? Hmm?” He inserted another finger without warning, giving that even longer stretch of your walls. 

You gasped, nonsense mumbling from your tongue. He was sure you said his name in there somewhere. He felt his cock twitch at the sparkle in your eyes and the essence of ecstasy that stretched across your glistening, sweaty skin. His long, thick fingers fucked into over and over—tongue swirling across your pretty little clit.

“C’mon, cum for me. That’s it. You’re such a good girl—my good girl.” You hiccuped, head slung back as your walls continued to clench around his fingers. “You can do it, hmm? Cum on my mouth, sunshine.”

You gasped loudly—body short-circuiting and spasming as the orgasm washed over your entire body. Joel’s name was like a mantra stuck on your tongue. Your body felt white-hot and sticky as your juices flushed against Joel’s chin and your inner thighs. 

Sunshine. Sunshine. You heard that over and over again. He watched with those thick eyes as you came undone. And wow, you looked so pretty. Your gasps and moans, your body shuddering from the shattering pleasure that spreads up and down your body. He wants to remember moments like this instead of the dark ones. 

As you came down from your high, you looked down at Joel. Your strong legs pulled him in a bit closer, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his nose. He just looked up at you—no doubt he had the biggest heart eyes on you that anyone had ever seen. 

You started to laugh from the enormous high—cum running down your legs and the fact that not even fifteen minutes ago, you were hassled by another man. The whole situation seemed funny to you now. 

Joel cracked his own smile, just for you. He caressed your cheek and rubbed his thumb back and forth. “Let’s go home, sunshine.” 

You weren’t even sure he caught himself the second time when he called you that. It just flowed off of his tongue so easily.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile as wide as you could. You knew what that meant—what he was insinuating. A fire lit inside of your chest. Damn, you could never get used to the way Joel would make you feel.

He grumbled under his breath. “Shut up. I got it.”

Yeah, he definitely didn’t. He needed your help not two seconds later, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You were Joel’s. Joel was yours.

[therealcocoshady]

Coco!! Just wanted to say THANK YOU for indulging another one of my requests and so QUICKLY too. I know you’re busy, busy and I really appreciate it! This was everything I ASKED for and more! Love me some sweet and sexy Marsh 🤍💪🏼🧘🏻‍♀️💦💋🌶️🥵🧸

Hope you enjoy a ☕️ or 2 on me! 😉

A/N : Hi bestie 🌟. Thank YOU for supporting me and being my first ever commission ❤️.

For those of you who didn’t know, you can support my writing by giving tips on my Ko-Fi account and I am now open for commissions as well 😏.

@shady-577 kindly allowed me to post the commission on this blog, too, to I hope y’all enjoy 🌟

Sweat Session

Marshall was a very healthy person and it showed. On your very first date, he’d told you about him trying to lead a healthy lifestyle by maintaining his sobriety, eating well and exercising and, two years into your relationship, he was more than consistent. You had recently moved in together and you got to see just how seriously he took it. And as he was getting ready to drop a new album, perform regularly again and do some promo, he started exercising even more. Not only it kept him fit, but it also helped him deal with his stress. He got up even earlier in the morning to hit the gym and, even though you enjoy the fruits of his labor (what with him being even more buff than before), you were a little grumpy not to have your man in bed with you when you woke up. And since he spent even more time at work, polishing the album and working on the promo, you didn’t see him as much as you liked, which made you a little frustrated.

- You know, you could hit the gym with me, he suggested with a smile when you told him about your annoyance. Might do some good.

- Is this a sneaky way of telling me I’ve gained weight ? You asked as you side-eyed him.

- What ? No ! He immediately said. I’m just saying it’s healthy to exercise. You could wake up a little earlier and join me in the gym.

- Or you could skip a day and stay in bed with me tomorrow morning, you suggested with a charming grin.

- Not happening, doll, he said with a smile. Need to be consistent.

- Fine, you groaned.

With the public appearances and photo shoots he had planned, as well as music videos to shoot, he wanted to look buff. At 51 years old, he didn’t want to be seen as some « aging rapper who let himself go ». And sure enough, the results were there. His chest was chesting and he had Twitter go feral over the outline of his pecs, clearly visible on the latest pics of him at Dre’s Walk of Fame ceremony.

The next day, you woke up to the sound of his alarm going off and let out a groan. He whispered an apology and kissed your forehead before going to the home gym in the basement. You tried to fall back to sleep but without your man by your side, the bed felt cold and empty. That’s when you decided enough was enough. You got up and put on a cute working out outfit, which looked more like underwear than clothes you could actually work out in, consisting of a bra and the tiniest shorts ever. Just enough fabric to highlight your figure and make your ass and breast pop out. When you got downstairs, you saw him working out on an incline bench, absorbed on what he was doing. He was wearing simple sweatpants and sneakers, not even bothering with a teeshirt. The view reminded you of how lucky you were. You looked at him from afar for a good while, him so focused that he didn’t even notice you standing there, practically drooling.

- Hi handsome, you said seductively. Mind if I join you ?

- You decided to get up after- he began. Jesus Christ…

- Yes ? You said innocently.

- You’re gonna work out in these ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- You don’t like it ? You asked.

- I don’t think that’s enough fabric for me to critique, he hummed.

- Far be it from me to distract you, you said with a smile. Unless…

- I have to work out, babe, he said with a frown. But you’re welcome to join.

You shrugged. You’d been dating for a while but, clearly, he should know better than to assume you didn’t have more tricks up your sleeve. You kicked off your sneakers and grabbed a yoga mat, strategically placing it so that he’d have a good view. You started stretching, going from pose to pose. He kept on working out next to you, though you could see his gaze.

- Like what you see ? You hummed.

- Making sure you’re doing it right, he said with a grin.

- Sure, you giggled.

He got up while you were in downward facing dog and put a hand on your hip, helping you stretch your back a little.

- You know, these tiny shorts don’t hide much, he whispered in your ear. Especially not in this pose.

- Oh yeah ? You asked as you switched to a three-legged down dog that gave him an even better view.

- Fuck, he muttered under his breath.

You kept your flow going under his watchful eye, looking at you as if you were a snack.

- I think my flexibility is not too bad, you remarked.

- It’s really good, he mumbled. Really good.

- Thank you for correcting my posture, my love, you said innocently. Let me repay the favor and spot you.

He hummed and laid back on the inclined bench, grabbing some halters, working on his arms. You gently ran your hand on his biceps, feeling how much bigger they had gotten in the past weeks.

- So muscular, you said seductively. You are so strong…

- Am I ? He mused.

- And that chest, you continued. It’s all for the « Stan » shirt lift for your upcoming tour, isn’t it ?

He looked at you with a grin, knowing this particular move drove you absolutely crazy. You watched him exercise. He clearly didn’t need you to spot him, and you knew it, but this allowed you to stare. He sat back up and grabbed his water bottle, taking a big gulp. You were staring at each other with « fuck me eyes » and you could tell he was trying hard not to give in to the temptation.

- You’re awfully distracting, woman, he said.

- Maybe you need to take a little break, you suggested. I think it’s time you were shown some appreciation for all this hard work…

He smiled and playfully shook his head before taking another gulp of water. Some of it missed his mouth and trailed down his neck and chest. You stepped closer and ran your tongue on his neck, catching the iced liquid. He let out a groan, letting you know how pleasurable it was.

- Let’s not be wasteful with water, now, you said seductively. Oh, I think I missed some…

You proceeded to kiss his chest, catching the water with your mouth. You took advantage of the moment and placed a kiss on one of his pecs. He chuckled and pulled you to him so that you’d sit in his lap before kissing you passionately.

- You’re impossible, he hummed between kissed. I can’t focus.

- And you’re a fucking tease, you retorted as you kissed him back. I’m only human, you know ?

- I’ll give you teasing, he grinned.

With one movement of his knee, he had you spread your legs for him, before running his fingers on the inside of your thigh. You hummed in pleasure as his hand got dangerously close to your pussy, eventually cupping it over the thin fabric of your shorts, making you sigh in pleasure.

- Is this what you wanted ? He asked playfully.

- Yes, you whined.

There was nothing more you loved than to sit in his lap, his arms around you, free to run his hands across your body. He knew it and he happily obliged, keeping on teasing you over your clothes, cupping your breasts and grazing your nipples with his fingers. He freed one of your boobs from your sports bra and pinched the nipple, making you moan in pleasure. You automatically started grinding against his thigh, your body desperate for some release.

- Look at this, he chuckled. You don’t need me to take care of you. Looks like you’re doing it on your own.

- Please, you asked breathily. Marshall.

- Patience, love, he whispered in your ear before letting his hand go back to your pussy.

He played with you over the fabric, no doubt feeling how wet you were. His head was buried in your neck and you could feel his smile against your skin. You kept on moaning, desperate for more. Eventually, you took matters in your own hands and knelt between his legs. You decided to put him through the same misery and stroked his high through his sweatpants, going higher and higher with each motion. Even through the fabric, you could see his growing bulge. You looked up to him and saw that he was looking in the mirror across the room, admiring the view of you, kneeling for him.

- You’re so beautiful in this position,he said as he ran a hand through your hair.

- Keep enjoying the view, then, you suggested with a smirk.

You tugged at his sweats and he lifted his hips to allow you to lower them, eventually kicking his sneakers so that you’d remove the whole thing, along with his boxers. There was something about him, naked on the bench, his massive erection showing you how excited he was. You stroked his cock and gave it a few pumps before approaching your face.

- I could leave you like this, you mused. Like you’ve left me alone in our bed…

- Babe, no, he pleaded. Please.

You thoroughly enjoyed reversing the power dynamic. By the look he was giving you, you could tell that he was wrapped around your finger, eating in the palm of your hand. You gave him a mischievous grin and started licking the tip of his cock, earning sighs of pleasure in the process. You kept on stroking the length while kitten licking the head, knowing it drove him crazy, that he wanted nothing more than for you to take all of him in your mouth. Eventually, you did and he moaned loudly, still holding on to your hair. You kept on sucking him, hollowing your cheeks to pleasure him even more. You took as much as you could, making you drool all over his cock. You stared at him from below and saw he was bemused by the reflection of you sucking him in the mirror. You could feel him twitch inside of your mouth, a sign that he was about to come.

- Stop, he warned.

- You can come, you said as you kept on stroking him.

- Don’t want to, he said. Not yet.

He helped you get up and kissed you hungrily before undressing you. He sat back and pulled you so that you’d straddle his lap, giving him an opportunity to suck on your tits while grabbing a handful of your ass. He lined himself at your entrance and inserted himself, making you whimper. There it was. What you’d been craving. The sole sensation of him inside you was heavenly. His mouth traveled between your nipple and your neck, proving that he knew your sweet spots all too well.

- is this what you wanted ? He asked breathily.

- Yes, you whispered.

He started thrusting his hips slowly, making sure to bottom into you and hit your sweet spot. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him sloppily, dying to be close to him as ever. The making out was hotter than ever and you always wanted more, desperate for some release, knowing this man could make you come like no one else before him.

- Faster, you begged. Harder. Please.

He gave you a smirk and carried you to another bench that was slightly higher. He had you on your knees, ass up and face down and penetrated you roughly, making you scream before thrusting violently. He was going so fast that you had trouble catching your breath. But at the same time, it was so good, so hot to have him use you. His thrusts became slower again and he put your hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing you to look in a mirror in front of you. You could see your faces twisting in pleasure. His gaze met yours and he gave you a smirk before quickening his pace. He closed his eyes and all hell broke loose. His hips moved faster than ever, hitting you deep. There was no doubt that you’d be sore for the following days but, in the instant, neither of you cared, lost in the pleasure. You moved your hips in sync, trying to keep up with him. You didn’t want it to end and, yet, you could feel you were both so close to climax. The coup de grâce came when he looped a hand around you to reach and rub your swollen clit, making you cry in ecstasy. You could feel your juices flowing, forming a puddle underneath you, in which you inevitably collapsed, Marshall on top of you.

The both of you stayed still and silent for a minute, taking the time to catch your breath. Marshall buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing a chaste kiss there that made you shiver.

- Are you alright, love ? He asked as he got up.

- Y-yes, you replied as you were still struggling to breathe properly.

He chuckled and got up with a grunt, grabbing a towel to clean you and a water bottle to help you hydrate. You let him clean you and sat up on the bench, taking a good look at his naked form. In spite of rocking a buzz cut, he still looked disheveled and insanely sexy.

- You’re so hot, you said lovingly.

- Is that why you jumped on me ? He asked with a smirk.

- Maybe, you giggled. Been missing you, lately.

He gave you a smile and wrapped you in his strong arms before kissing you.

- Missed you too, he said. But you do realize you’re the main reason I’m doing all of this for, don’t you ?

- Am I ? You mused.

- Of course, he hummed. When I’m making music, I think of how much I want you to be proud. And when I’m here… my main motivation is you. I want to look good for you. You’re always on my mind.

You cooed and kissed him tenderly. He was too adorable.

- Well, I am proud of you. And I do think you look incredible me you complimented. I’m proud to be yours.

- I love you, he said. How about a shower before you need to go to work ?

- Ok, you said with a pout.

You got up and he grabbed you by the waist before leading you out of the home gym.

- I like fucking you in here, he hummed. I can’t believe we waited so long for this, though.

- We’ll have to do it again, you said with a smile. I can think of a few creative ways to use that gym equipment.

- Oh believe me, next time I’m putting those resistance bands to good use, he chuckled. I guess it completes the tour of the house. We’ve officially done it in every room of the house.

- Does that make me a permanent resident ? You grinned.

- It does, he chortled.

- Oh no, there’s one room missing, though, you said.

He looked at you with a frown, knowing exactly where you were going with this. He sternly shook his head as he led you to the stairs.

- Nope, he said. Don’t even thing about it. We’re not doing it in the hope studio. I have rules.

- We’ll see, you grinned.

- I’m not going to cave in, he warned.

- You know I like a challenge, you said innocently. Besides… you love me. You wouldn’t be able to refuse.

He chuckled, failing to keep the annoyed look on his face. You knew he loved you being all needy, and that there was only so much charm offensive he could resist.

- We’ll see, he hummed before bringing your hand to his lips and then placing a loving kiss on your ring finger.

[elliehase-blog]

We're simply meant to be

I just had to write something about them. ❤️💜 This time it's longer than usual, and not proofread (sorry) but if you enjoy this little piece, you can read the rest on AO3.

~*~

In the afternoon, Roman is still quite relaxed. He polishes the blade of his sword, humming verses of Sally’s song. Hey, why not? He is only 51% sure that this is a kind of date tonight. It’s not as if Virgil was in any way clear with his all-but-nothing sentence.

»You're right, Roman. We can live like Jack and Sally if we want to.«

There. The word 'date' has not been used in any form.

Virgil had laughed at this point, to Roman’s utter bewilderment. A delightful little laugh that took up all of his attention and everything else outside had ceased to exist. And of course Roman had not known how to help himself other than to take the whole thing to the next level.

»And sit together, now and forever,« he had said, and had taken Virgil’s hands carefully in his. In this moment, Roman had only felt his heart pounding against his ribs in a whirling drum solo.

After that, Virgil had turned away in embarrassment and mumbled something that sounded like, »See you later.«

So maybe it is a date after all.

Perhaps.

(It’s certainly not.)

For seconds Roman bites his fingernails helplessly. He had seen so many cheesy romance movies in his life that he liked to consider himself an expert in the field. There was nothing to surprise him, as he knew all the signs and all the rules. And if you can no longer rely on cheesy romantic movies, then what?

But somehow all these rules never apply to Virgil.

How did they get here in the first place? Aren't they supposed to argue and fight like in the good old days? Sometimes, Roman likes to picture the deep, passionate rivalry he and Virgil have for each other. He imagines them having endless discussions about Disney characters, staring at each other in a fiery way. And when no one is around, Roman sighs deeply and longingly at this point and buries his heated face in velvety soft red silk pillows.

In the evening, Roman takes a look at his imaginary wardrobe and starts hyperventilating. He’s never had a no-date before. With nobody.

He has no idea what to wear and if he has any piece of clothing that says, 'When you look at me, I can’t breathe, and whenever you’re around me, I talk a lot more nonsense than usual, but if this is a date, I’d be totally fine with it.'

Lately, Virgil had just been too nice and peaceful around him. He means, nice… within the scope of his limited possibilities. Roman can’t say that this is terribly unpleasant, it’s just very… irritating. He has to do something. Or rather, he has to delegate this problem very quickly so that someone else does it for him.

Roman was great at delegating. This talent was practically innate. That's why he calls Logan.

»We have a… situation,« Roman explains dramatically. »I don't know what to wear!«

Logan throws a 'What do you want from me?' look at him. He raises his eyebrows wordlessly and completely unimpressed and makes absolutely no attempt to move even a millimetre from the spot.

»C’mon, Teach, I need your advice here!«

Usually, Logan would not have been his first choice in terms of clothing and taste, but he also has that unclouded and focused sight that Roman needed right now.

»Pleeeaaase!«

Logan sighs and Roman strongly assumes that this is supposed to mean agreement. Probably, Roman had convinced him with his astute argumentation and natural authority. That, or Logan, for once just doesn’t think a discussion is worth the trouble.

»What's the occasion?« he asks without further ado, pushing his glasses up in an unconscious gesture.

»Something… important,« Roman says vaguely.

[cas-kingdom]

I think

“I didn’t know they were weed brownies!” And “I swear, it’s the truth!”

Would be really funny with Chicago Fire if you’d be so kind 🥰🥰🥰

Matt Casey liked to think that every return he made back to Chicago was a breath of fresh air. Not that looking after the boys was difficult and he didn't enjoy it, but a reminder of his old life was often exactly what he needed in his new one. Of course, seeing you was the primary reason he came home, but his 51 family was more than a bonus.

Matt had decided to make for the station before the hotel. There were only a couple hours left of shift and he was ready for the placid atmosphere typical after twenty-two hours already on the job.

“I didn’t know they were weed brownies!"

The bounce in his step waned slightly as he let the door shut behind him. He could tell his sister's voice from a mile away, but the tone of it was one he wasn't used to.

"I swear, it’s the truth. These little kids were selling them, I thought they were sweet kids—they seriously looked like sweet kids."

“I, yeah—" There was a snort of laughter. Sylvie. "We believe you, Y/N.”

"Don’t doubt it, girl!" Stella sounded as enthusiastic as possible, but that same hint of amusement was evident in her voice.

Matt couldn't help his concern, quickening his pace and rounding the engine truck. The ambulance back doors were open, and you were sat at the edge, terror written all over your face. Stella was sat on her haunches in front of you, hands on your knees. Sylvie was on one side, a blood pressure monitor in her hands, and Violet was rummaging through a bag on the other.

Your wide eyes—wide, groggy eyes—met his the moment he made himself visible.

“Matty!” You made to jump up, but the girls stopped you before you could, blurting all kinds about slowing down and blood and heart.

Matt could tell you were on the verge of tears, could see the quivering of your lips and the watering of your already watering eyes. Quickly, he dropped his bag on the floor and rushed across to envelop you in a hug, cupping the back of your head to his chest. "Hey, there," he said. He met Stella's eyes, the captain having stood up, and mouthed a "what happened?" over your head.

Stella mouthed a simple "brownies" back, as though that answered the question perfectly. Luckily, you helped out.

“Matt, I took drugs," you spoke quietly. Matt's frown deepened.

The girls jumped to attention. "Not on purpose!" Sylvie said.

"Not on purpose," Stella confirmed. "Some douche was giving his kids weed brownies to sell outside his garage. Either that or someone got their recipes seriously mixed up. Boden’s sent CPD down there.”

You twirled a lock of your brother's hair around a finger, still clinging to him. “CPD’s gonna beat someone's ass," you said pointedly, "I paid eight dollars for those brownies.”

Violet crossed her arms over her chest. “Hey, Y/N, how many did you eat again?”

“Four.” Your voice was muffled, yiur face buried in Matt's chest, but everyone heard it.

Sylvie. "Rough."

"They were so good," you said.

There was a general silence, something concern probably should have filled, but after a moment the amusement of the situation set in, and smiles broke out.

"Can I assume she's gonna be fine?" Matt asked. He gently pulled away from you and guided you to sit back down on the truck.

Sylvie nodded, crossing her arms. "She's got an elevated heart rate and she'll be loopy for a bit longer but yeah, she'll be okay."

"What if the kids come after me?" You let your head drop against Matt's shoulder.

"What's that, sweetheart?" Matt asked.

"What if the brownie kids come back because I sent the cops on them?"

Sylvie put a fist to her mouth

"That's not gonna happen," Matt assured you, "don't worry."

Stella clapped her hands together after Kylie's voice asking for her echoed throughout the station. "Okay, crazy, I'm gonna take you off duty for the rest of shift, okay?"

You face fell. "Oh, but—can I still stay at the firehouse?"

"Probably best," Stella agreed.

Matt stood up. "Hey, Lieutenant, you need someone to fill in?"

Stella grinned, pointing a finger towards him as she backed out of the room. "Luckily for you, ex-Lieutenant, a spot just opened up. Go get a drink, Y/N, and stay where we can keep an eye on you. Hey, hey, Hermann, can you escort her into the common room? Don't leave her."

Hermann, who'd been passing by with an apple in hand, didn't have much of a choice as Matt passed his sister onto him with a kiss to your hot forehead before running off to change. Hermann took your arm in his when you went to fall.

"The hell's up with you? You sick?"

"I took drugs."

"What?"

Chicago Fire Masterpost

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #51 — Ten Has Done So Much for All of You, and for What? You Don't Deserve Him.

So, obviously, last issue ended rather poorly for Team Rodimus and Pals. It doesn’t look like the start of this one going much better, as a mass of baddies bombard the late Necrobot’s “Fortress”. Whirl, being Whirl, wants to go out and face his certain death head-on. Everyone else is more than fine to wait for death to come to them.

Rewind, showing off the skills he’s picked up as a videographer over the last several thousand years, gets the security cameras up. I’m assuming that Censere had these installed to keep an eye out for bored space teens who might have wanted to graffiti his millions of plinths. Too bad it didn’t save him, or his property, as outside, Tarn is shooting the ground with his twin fusion cannons. He’s having to hold his arm in place with his other hand, as I’m sure the kickback of firing two lasers at once must be something fierce. He finishes and commands his troops to cease firing, everyone withdrawing.

The Lost Lost Lighters are super jazzed about this, Brainstorm stating that they must have heard about Tailgate’s Power Punch, an attack with a name so banal, it surely must kill anyone who faces it, if only so they don’t talk shit about it after the fact.

Megatron, however, knows what Tarn’s pulling, as he’s a theatre kid, and everyone knows that the really intense theatre kids follow their scripts to a T, and will murder you for trying to ad lib like some filthy fucking improv performer.

By doing this, he’s honoring Shakespeare.

Swerve has begun to bawl like a baby over how bad the situation has gotten, likely recalling all the awful shit he witnessed the last time he crossed paths with the DJD. Magnus, who still has his arm off, because Velocity is all about uplifting her fellow women, demands that they try to call for assistance, then apologizes for swearing, even though he’s absolutely at the very least said “damn” in the past. Maybe he’s confusing the total inability to curse with the IDW publication law that you’re not allowed to say “bitch” until your series has been truncated by 50%. Or maybe he only allows himself to swear in the presence of poor snack management. Anyway, it’s not like it matters— Megatron’s just informed everyone that Tarn also likes to cut the phone lines in situations like this.

All of this, because you wanted middle management for your faction.

Because Megatron never baked any sort of loophole into the DJD’s way of handling shit, because how the fuck could he have possibly known he’d one day have to denounce his entire reason for existing to satisfy the commercial whims of Hasbro, the gang is going to have to figure out some way to defend themselves or escape in the next eight hours. Rodimus orders everyone to split up and look for clues, blowing off Ten in the process.

Velocity calls Swerve, the closest thing to a doctor besides her, to come look at the Necrobot’s corpse, which appears to have turned into a pile of ash. Swerve informs her that this is what happens when someone who’s old as balls kicks it. Now, it may concern you that Velocity, who was the only doctor for a ship of over 200 until this morning, doesn’t know what a dead old man looks like. However, we must recall that age-related spark burnout hasn’t been a thing until very recently for Cybertronians, and Caminus, the colony Velocity is from, is marginally younger as a society. It probably just hasn’t happened in her circles yet.

Velocity and Swerve play around in the pile of old man dust, until she pulls a key out, with “1/001” written on it. Her search party will be focusing on finding what this key goes to, as it was surely important, given that it was on Censere’s person at the time of his death.

Over on the DJD’s ship, The Peaceful Tyranny, Deathsaurus stares at the corpses Tarn’s nailed to the wall of his room. The nails have Decepticon insignias on the heads, because of course they do. These are the same corpses Tarn had on the wall of his office in Grindcore. Tarn asks if Deathsaurus is impressed with his first editions, and when Deathsaurus is understandably bewildered by this question, Tarn explains that these are corpses that were sent home after dying in the mines of Messatine, who had Megatron’s writing etched into their organs by Terminus, so that said writing would reach the outside world. Tarn thinks it’s pretty fucking cool, but Deathsaurus is, again, bewildered by this interior design choice. In general, Deathsaurus is bewildered by a vast majority of the ways Tarn chooses to live his life.

Tarn, opening the mouth section of his mask to drink a shot’s worth of energon, likely totally unable to see as he does so, since the eye holes don’t line up anymore, says that if Deathsaurus was a true intellectual like Tarn was, he’d understand that trying to chase down a ship with quantum jump capabilities is really difficult when you no longer have a sneaky little double agent to give you exact coordinates, so grounding their targets was the best option. No word on how Tarn feels about the ship he super-nightmare-death-murdered being perfectly fine now.

Deathsaurus really just wants to know why they backed off after having their targets cornered, because he hates Tarn and his stupid little games, having been working with him for at least a couple months by this point. Tarn, however, has the audacity to be smug about how all the Autobots are probably tearing each other apart out of fear, as the sun makes its way across the sky.

Back with Velocity’s search party, Nautica’s joined the one-and-a-half doctors in the Key Quest. Velocity asks Swerve about why Ten came down with the rest of the group, and in Swerve’s defense, it’s not like anyone knew this was a murder trip until after they’d arrived. When the brain attack happened last issue, Swerve hadn’t disclosed what exactly he’d heard— now, however, he admits that he’d gotten an earful from Ten about the Ambus Test, and how just because he’s made up of the corpses of multiple religious hermits doesn’t mean he isn’t a person too, and also once that union gets going, he’s gonna sic lawyer-mode Magnus on him.

Anyway, they found the door that key went to.

Back with Rodimus in the main room, he’s collecting the notes of all the other search teams. Rung’s face has been shaded to look like he got lip fillers. Rodimus isn’t pleased, but it isn’t because of Rung’s gotten work done.

Nightbeat, however, DOES have good news to pair off with the bad. News so good he starts using metaphors, which confuses and frightens Magnus. Nightbeat has found the quantum travel device the Necrobot used to travel to the deaths he recorded, and what do you know? It’s got just enough juice to get everyone out of dodge and into the loving embrace of safety. Hooray! Time to form an orderly queue, going from most to least obnoxious paint job.

Then Team Killjoy shows up, Velocity and Nautica letting everyone know what’s behind door #1: it’s a bunch of organics in stasis.

I will say, the inverse of Transformers fans collecting robot toys mint in package is decidedly more disturbing.

Whirl isn’t horribly keen to die over a bunch of squishy nobodies. Nautica states that the organics are vulnerable and need protection. Skids, really wanting to be in that straight-passing relationship, agrees that the DJD will totally kill these guys, because they learned their technoism from SOMEONE MEGATRON. Chromedome, who has had his husband back for maybe six months at this point, really doesn’t want to stick around for the sun to set. Cyclonus asks just why the fuck there’s a bunch of dudes in the basement. Tailgate wonders if it really matters, considering the situation at hand. Magnus, needing direction in his life, makes sure that Rodimus hasn’t decided to take a nap standing up like a horse. Brainstorm, who has been oh-so-subtly trying to edge the door to the quantum tube shut, makes the point that they could do a lot of good after the fact, if they left now and then vowed to protect a slew of organics afterwards, which would eventually even out their sins, probably.

Rodimus feels pretty good about this proposal, but he loves looking like the most appealing, middle-of-the-road choice, and says that they have some time to talk this out. However, we’ve forgotten that we’re riding with Mr. Ex-Peace Through Tyranny, who does nothing in half-measures and loves to be contrarian to Rodimus at every given opportunity.

This turn of events is such a shock to Rodimus, he shouts at Ten for trying to show him something. Poor Ten.

Rodimus reminds Megatron just what exactly they’re up against and what he’s signing himself up for and for what variety of living creature, but Megatron is aware of all of these things. Looks like the talking to Skids gave him on the duplicate Lost Light finally sank through his thick skull, and he’s ready to be a big boy about this whole Autobot thing. He then informs everyone that he’s not doing this to make a point, and that anyone who wants to dip is welcome to do so, as long as they’re doing it for themselves.

Of course, it’ll be a cold day in hell before any Autobot lets Megatron out-Autobot them, and it’ll be an even colder day before Cyclonus leaves his not-boyfriend alone on Murder Planet. Oh, and the fact that organic life is just as valuable as mechanical. Totally. Everyone defaults to stay, Rodimus closing the door to the quantum tube.

Swerve then offers a real heel-clicker of an alternate escape plan: what if… we just stole the DJD’s ship, stuffed it full of the organics, and flew away before anyone noticed? Now, this is, of course, an immaculate plan, which no man could ever find fault in, but Whirl is not a man, but rather a machine, and does question where exactly they’d be getting the keys to such a ship. Cyclonus is trying to be a bit more of a supportive friend to Swerve, since the last time the guy felt left out, they all had to project their consciousnesses 400 miles out and pay NYC rent, asks if there is more to this perfect, perfect plan, crafted in one of the finest minds of any generation.

There is not.

So, we’re gonna steal a ship.

Ravage offers to track the smell of unwashed bachelors and Megatron body pillows to see where the DJD parked. Rodimus gives him his blessing, marveling at the skillset at his disposal, as Magnus makes a fucking wild face of incredulousness and Ten sulks in the corner.

Before he runs off, Ravage brings Megatron a phone and asks that he talk to Tarn, because surely if anyone can get him off the warpath, it would be his old boss.

Back at the Peaceful Tyranny, Tarn, Deathsaurus, Nickel, Tesarus, and Vos are going over the plan for the day. Sure hope Deathsaurus can parse Primal Vernacular. Tesarus reminds Tarn of the time they went after Heretech and he turned a storm shield into a forcefield that held them off for days, but this band of Autobot nerds aren’t Heretech, now are they? Even if they do have an ex-Wrecker, a Skids, and the power of love on their side.

Then Tarn tells everyone to shut the fuck up, because he’s getting a call on his electric razor.

Back at the “Fortress”, Megatron stands astride the space scooter, looking horribly depressed, as he prepares to have a little chat with his most murderous fanboy. Rodimus questions this decision, having clocked that even on his best day, Megatron wouldn’t just whole-heartedly decide to effectively kill himself for the sake of 50-60 organics he doesn’t even know.

Of course, we’ve seen that at least one planet in the Magisterian system still has life, as the Scavengers had to use holomatter avatars at some point, as seen in issue #45. Perhaps if Megatron knew about this, he wouldn’t be so keen to go on a suicide mission.

Over with Ravage, he passes by Skids’s plinth, which I’m sure isn’t an omen of any kind, and discovers that the smell of B.O. and hot pockets he was following wasn’t attached to the Peaceful Tyranny, but rather a base the DJD and Deathsaurus’s boys threw together. Also, Ten’s been crawling after him in an attempt to keep hidden this whole time, over what was likely multiple miles. He didn’t do a good job in the slightest, but points for tenacity, buddy. Ravage understands that Ten’s just trying to help in some form or fashion, so Ravage gives him a special job: bullet sponge.

Deathsaurus’s men, Helex, Kaon, and the Pet all see Ten up on the hill. Kaon in particular looks very excited at the promise of a plaything, so much so that he lets his rabid little chihuahua off-leash.

Meanwhile, Megatron races across his personal field of spark flowers, on his way to rendezvous at his plinth with Tarn. I wonder who suggested this meeting spot? When Megatron arrives, he demands that Tarn at least face him with his, well, face, but Tarn says that his mask IS his face, even though we know it isn’t, because Tarn couldn’t commit to the bit hard enough on this particular front for some reason.

Megatron offers himself up for surrender. But enough about his crisis of morality, let’s get back to Ten.

Ten, former Legislator that he is, fights valiantly, throwing four guys in the air at once, even as the Pet scratches his collar bone and Helex punches him in the head, his face telling me that he’s gonna do horny mouth shit with Ten’s brain if he manages to get ahold of it. Kaon’s in the background, shooting electricity into the sky. I think he’s just happy to be here. This nonsense up on the hill allows Ravage to sneak over to the base to check for a ship that DOESN’T smell like wine, jockstraps, and viscera.

Back with the Autobots, someone finally remembers that Ten’s a person, and asks where the hell he’s gotten to. Magnus isn’t sure, though he knows where he HAD been. I expect better from you, Magnus. Ten is your little buddy! Your brother in artistic arms! He even left something for your enjoyment, while he went out to help Ravage!

After having solved the issue of their defense system, Ten went out and got his ass shredded for multiple pages, where he was repeatedly shot and set on fire and torn limb from limb and electrocuted (I guess someone finally pointed Kaon in the right direction). It seems like the end for Ten, but his assailants are suddenly shot and dealt with, blanketing the hill in silence.

Silent enough to hear the equivalent of twenty USD in Australian dollaridoos, having been converted into English pounds, rustling around in a British guy’s wallet.

[multifandom-exe]

Prompt list :p

i did take this from my old account, but lots of the fics i write are based around this list. Contains: Angst (1-50) Fluff (51-100) sarcasm/humour (101-150) and drama (151-200)

if you wanna request something from this list, just use the character and ‘ prompt 34 from prompt list #2′ thank you! ill write for whoever you want mama.

Theres like 200 so be wary

“I love you ! Is that what you wanted to hear ?”

“I love him/her, and I know that I shouldn’t.”

“Can you just shut your mouth ?”

“WHY DO YOU KEEP LYING TO ME ?”

“We both know that I should walk away, but I can’t.”

“Wait, he/she has a girlfriend/boyfriend ?“

“I lo—-” “No, please… Don’t say that. You love her/him, not me.”

"Could you just take this pain away ? It hurts, so much… Help me.”

“You’re safe here, I got you.”

“Don’t ask her out again, please… You’re killing me, every single time you ask that.”

“Look, he/she wants you, just make him/her happy.”

“If you go, I’ll know that you never loved me.”

“We never were just friends, and you know it.” “I know it, but you deserve someone better than me.”

“SHE WAS CRYING BECAUSE OF YOU!!!”

“You love me like I’m the person who actually deserves your love.” “But you are the only one who deserves it.”

“I know for a fact that you’re not “fine”.”

“You’re looking at me like.. you’re disgusted. What did I do? Just tell me what I did, please!”

“What happened between us?”

“Nothing has changed!” “Yes it has, and you know it.”

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt this badly.”

“You said you needed space. You were 5,000 miles away for a year, and you’re still unsure. I’m starting to think that an entire universe apart wouldn’t be enough space for you.”

“I remember when he/she/they used to look at me that way”

“I want you to list every lie you ever told me. Then I’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t hate you. I hate that after all of this, you’re still trying to lie to me”

“I can’t keep this secret for you anymore.”

“I’m sorry I’m not what you signed up for.”

“Why she/her/them? It could have been anybody, and you chose to betray me with her/him/them.”

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“You never loved me, did you?”

“You made me miserable and I still loved you.”

“Everytime something goes well, I momentarily forget how much I despise you.”

“We’re never going to have a happy ending, just remember that.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not happy to see me like this.”

“Your mind must be a horrible place.”

“Hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself.”

“And I thought you loved me.”

“ And I thought I loved you.”

“ Aren’t you even going to cry?”

“I didn’t expect you to wait forever. I just hoped…”

“Did you always know that you were going to leave?”

“If you cry, I’ll stay, and if I stay that will just give you another reason to hate me.”

“I’m addicted and at this point I don’t think anything could make me stop.”

”If you wanna know, then ask.”

“You never asked because you knew I wouldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear.”

“We grew apart, and at this point I’m glad.”

“Find somebody else to kiss your ass.”

“When are you going to stop clawing for something that’s never going to happen?”

“What you’re doing is going to kill you one day.”

“It was easier to believe that the you I knew was dead than deal with the fact that I still have to see you every day.”

“What you’re doing is going to kill you one day.

“You’re hair is really soft after you wash it.”

“Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

“You smell really nice.”

“Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.”

“I might have slept with your robe when you were gone.”

“If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”

“Here, let’s share the blanket.”

“You’re comfy.”

“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

“But I want to hear you sing.”

“Don’t get up - I’ll do it.”

“Care to give me a back scratch?”

“I think I love you.”

“Your bed head is really cute.”

“How about a kiss?”

“You made this for me?”

Aw, you’re blushing.”

Uh oh, I know that look. What do you want?”

“Let me help you with that.”

“I don’t want to forget this moment.”

“Are you really flirting with me right now?”

“I like the way your hand fits in mine.”

“You have something in your hair, umm… Do you want me to get it out?”

“It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today.”

“This movie is really scary, but you’re into it so I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time, but- WHAT IS THAT?”

“Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.”

“Half the time I get too embarrassed to say anything”

“No, it’s fine. I can wait until you’re done talking to them.”

“No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

“You’re a big piece of inspiration for this, honestly.”

“I’ve been trying to get ready for like an hour and a half, because I know you’re going to look so good and I need to try and match up.”

“I wanted to say “I love you” for the first time without stuttering, but that failed.”

“My friends get so annoyed by how much I talk about how sometimes.”

“No, mom, don’t tell him/her I said that about him/her!”

“I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

“ You are so beautiful — So fucking beautiful. “

“And just WHERE do you think you’re putting your hands?”

“Wow, you look even better in the daylight.”

“I don’t remember ever having this many hickeys. But I don’t mind.”

“We could order pizza and just stay like this all day.”

“It was always you.”

I love you in every possible way.”

“I didn’t mean to love you so much.”

“Don’t you hurt a single hair on his/her/their head.”

“Duck, you idiot!”

“Hey. Pal. I’ve got a wand and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

“It’s not a double date. We’re just third and fourth wheeling.”

“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

“I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror..”

“Define normal.”  

“Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?”  

“Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.”  

“Don’t look for any redeeming qualities. I don’t have any.”  

“It’s amazing how fast the world can go from bad to total shit storm.” 

“I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.”  

“And you wonder why you’re still single.” 

“Remind me to kill you. Please.”  

“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?” 

“She’s crazy. And just when you think you’ve reached the bottom of her craziness, there’s a crazy underground garage.”  

“She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but I bet behind close doors she’s latex and whips.” 

“If my day gets any worse, I’m asking hell if they’re having an exchange program.”  

“Sorry. I don’t speak skank.”  

“My middle finger salutes you.”  

“I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel.”  

“Somebody’s cranky.” “Somebody needs to shut up.”  

“Oh darling. Go buy a brain.”  

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”  

“All due respect, but that’s a bunch of crap.”  

“I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind.” 

“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.”  

“What did I tell you about calling her/him the devil?” “That it’s offensive to the devil?”  

“I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”  

“I need therapy after this.”  

“You didn’t get in trouble for lying. You got in trouble for lying badly.”  

“I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned.”  

“I think you’re weird.” “I think you’re boring.”  

“I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…” “A dangerous pastime.” 

“Wow, there’s a big surprise. I think I’m going to have a heart attack and die from surprise.”  

“I’m gonna hit you so hard, it’ll make you ancestors dizzy.”  

“Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.”  

“Well, excuse me, psychic wonder!”  

“Don’t look in her eyes, she might steal your soul.”  

“She’s hot, but she’s evil.”  

“Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.”  

“I already know that I’m going to hell. At this point it’s really go big or go home.”  

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.”  

“So stick that in your juice box and suck it.”  

“Never take life seriously. No one ever comes out alive anyway.”  

“Sometimes I question my sanity. Occasionally it replies.” 

“Why should we date?” “Because we are attracted to each other.” “I am attracted to pie, but I do not feel the need to date pie.”  

“Neither one us is drunk enough for this conversation.”  

“You’re questioning my methods.” “I’m not questioning it, I’m saying it’s stupid.”  

“Wow, somebody needs a Happy Meal.”  

“I didn’t do it!” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius.”  

“Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.” 

“You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.” 

“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”  

“Rule number one: don’t bother sucking up. I already hate you, that’s not going to change.”  

“You make no sense to me.” “Welcome to my life.”

“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?” 

“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?”  

“Don’t think I forgot about what you did last time.” 

“I know you lied to me.” 

“I’m not even sorry.” 

“You backstabber!” 

“I never want to see you again.” 

“You never mattered to me.” 

“I knew this was a bad idea.” 

“Rot in hell.” 

“It was supposed to be a secret!” 

“No one loves me.” 

“He/she/they is/are so petty…” 

“You made me cry.” 

“I don’t know who you are anymore.” 

“How DARE you?!” 

“I know you’re not talking to me…” 

“I SAW you with him/her/them!” 

“Just leave me alone.” 

"What did you do?!” 

“I told everyone that I didn’t want to talk but I’m actually dying for attention.” 

“Just admit that was extra…” 

“I forgive, but I don’t forget.” 

“Did you see what he/she/they was/were wearing?” 

“So what if I had sex with your ex?” 

“There’s something I have to tell you…” 

“I can’t do this anymore.” 

“You weren’t there for me when I needed you the most.” 

“I never loved you.” 

“It’s too late.” 

“Quit ignoring me.” 

“Don’t you get it? It’s because I love you!” 

“I love you. I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t want to be friends.” 

“Can we please pretend I never said that?” 

“Friendzoned again.” 

“You should’ve loved me when you had the chance.” 

“Fuck you for toying with my emotions like that.” 

“I was there for you when no one else was!” 

“Alright – I can tell a ‘no’ when I hear it.” 

“I’m sorry I acted so creepy.” 

“Fuck. It’s like what they say – nice guys finish last…” 

“I’m tired of keeping this secret. Even if you don’t love me back.” 

“I knew that’d be your answer. That’s why I never told you before.” 

“When I said I loved you, I meant it.” 

“Is there any part of you, deep down, that might love me back?” 

“You were the one that left all those notes for me?” 

"You’re in a relationship with another person – you know this can’t end well.” 

“We agreed this was just physical!” 

“I love you. I know you don’t love me, so don’t say it back.” 

UGh that was so long, props if you made it this far. No need to credit if you use any, but a like or reblog is appreciated

[nerdycanible1]

Am back! :D

Omg guys! Almost forgot I had this ((joking)) but nah seriously! It had been years since I've posted anything here! 💀

Anyways imma go back to my roots!! Y'all remember the days of Legend of Korra where I've only simped for Lin Beifong? 👀 But I've found a new lady, well not really but I've got a new love!!

So y'all remember (if not don't worry about it) the whole genderbent au thing I've created and it was female Tenzin and male Lin and stuff like that? Well I've got some stuff for y'all!

So first and foremost, this is Tenna. She is genderbent Tenzin (female Tenzin). She is literally so hot and I cannot stop drawing her! Currently working on the backstory and this will be nothing like tLoK, actually it will in some places but yes! A lot will be changed!

But look at her! She's gorgeous! 🥺 Also I just wanted to show y'all my improvement of art over the years! QwQ it has improved so much and I'm so proud! Anyways I'll stop rambling and let ya get to the photo!

Tenna: 55 years old

Tenna in swimsuit enjoy 🗿

Side note: Tell me this isn't the most Tenzin expression ever xD

Anyways, my thoughts are simple. Make hot women. :D I am smooth brained and frankly I've been a simp for my genderbent Tenzin for years.

I wanted to update her concept instead of the one I've created years ago (plz forget that 💀) and frankly I love this version better. She looks kind, soft, hot, and first and foremost Tenzin-ish.

What I have for her so far:

She is 51-50 just like Tenzin in tLoK

She has one confirmed boy that I've come up with and one confirmed girl.

Their names are Jin (Jinora) and Ming (Meelo). I haven't come up with anything else for the kids as of yet.

She is pansexual. No discussion on this xD

She is currently in a relationship with Peng (Pema). But ma'am is known to wander around.

Tenna is also more in tune with her nomadic life style instead of the whole business stuff.

Tenna left RC at the ripe age of 16, leaving Ling (Lin) in the process but no hate. It was a mutual break up. Ling wanted to keep RC safe and promised Tenna that everything would still be up and running whenever she wanted to settle down.

Tenna fell in love with an air acolyte (whom I haven't decided to name as of yet) and stayed there for a year before the world called for her once more. It was a short but painful romance, one that Tenna often thinks about.

Once she was back on the road she fell in love with a non bender (Not Peng yet), got pregnant and went to RC for Air Temple Island. She stayed on the island for a few years raising her newborn son Jin.

Ling helped with all he could, being there for Tenna, taking care of her and feeding her and dealing with her grumpiness. He took care of her and once the baby was born, Ling knew he would protect the child as if he were the one to help make the baby.

Tenna couldn't have thanked Ling enough and felt horrible she was "holding him back" from finding his true love. Ling wanted to confess right then and there that he loved her but knew it wasn't the right time.

During the time of the whole pregnancy and the raising of Jin, Ling and Tenna fell into a romance. Stealing kisses, sharing deep secrets, touches that crossed the very thin line of friendship.

It wasn't until Jin started talking and walking that Tenna thought it would be a great time to start exploring the world. Jin barely being the age of 3 or 4. Ling confessed to her that he loves her and that she wished she'd stay for him but told her it was a selfish request. He instead kissed her goodbye and told her to look at the Northern Lights for her on one of her trips. Tenna never felt such sadness and sorrow but she promised to keep in touch. She watched as Ling got smaller and smaller as the boat began to leave the harbor and leave behind her very best friend and lover.

Sorry friends but this is where imma stop it before I bore you! Let me know if you want more Headcanons or if you want more art of this fine wine of a milf!

Send me asks, or ask simply in the comments or Dms about any of this au. I'm happy to reply and I'm excited to say that I'll be posting here regularly soon! And you know of course that there's gonna be more Lin Beifong art so prepare yourselves!

As usual, all art belongs to me. If reposted please credit. Thank you!

[justins-1-justan]

Doing spooky activities with total drama characters!

It's spooky season! ^=^

Dj!

Horror movies?

Hahahahah. No ♡

You both stay in and cuddle while watching the Simpsons Halloween specials while eating candy.

You also wear matching halloween pajamas!

The moon has long been in the sky this Halloween, younger trick or treaters had already gone home and the older ones which stayed were met by the cold autumn breeze. But bundled up in soft throw blankets, wrapped in each other's arms as the fire roars, is you and Dj. An old episode plays, you feel your eyelids grow heavy, you rest your head against DJ's shoulder as you slowly drift off to sleep.

Geoff.

You can probably already guess,

Of course you're both going to a Halloween party, if not throwing one yourselves!

Matching costumes!! This year you're the grim reaper and a ghost! Geoff is the ghost & you're the reaper ofc!

Laughter, music, and a cheerful energy paints the party. The flashing lights reflect in his blue eyes, he twirls you as the monster mash booms on the speakers. The two of you party all night, for a holiday that's supposed to be scary, it made such joyful memories.

Izzy!

You both scare the daylights out of trick or treaters.

Your job was to stand on the porch with the candy bowl, candy bowl which is filled with fun sized candy bars disguised as full sized ones.

Izzy's idea of course.

Meanwhile Izzy would hide in the bushes in her 'franken-izzy' costume waiting to jump out at trick or treaters.

You successfully made six kids, three teenagers, and one adult man cry. Congrats?

From your peripheral vision you can see a child in the horizon approaching, you stand in position on the porch. The child, dressed like a minion, steps onto the porch. Per Izzy's instructions you hand them the 'full sized' candy bar. They smile happily and thank you and then.... "BOOOO!!" Izzy yells out at the child. After causing the child to subsequently drop their candy, earning a glare from the child's parents, Izzy practically dies of laughter while holding onto your shoulder.

Scott.

Hehehahaha, he took you a grave yard.

Yep.

A grave yard.

The scheme is that you'll get so scared you'll fall into his arms.

.. Let's just say that doesn't go as planned.

The moon shines brightly down upon you and Scott walking hand in hand in this abandoned graveyard. Boredom creeping over you, an idea dawns. Holding back giggles, you loudly let out a piercing howl like scream, causing Scott to quickly jump and whip his head back towards you. He glares at you and let's go of your hand when he realizes you're fine, he continues the pace of walking you were formerly at, you quickly chase after him and grab his hand, giggling with murmurs of apologies.

Area fifty~one alien Cody~Clone from S3 EP15 & briefly S5 EP7!

Breaking him out of area 51 for the holiday wasn't as difficult as you would think!

After convincing the guards you were a trick or treater, they left to go grab something to give you, then you simply walked to where he was being held and busted him out.

Since he had been in a government facility for years, he's never seen a scary movie before! Oh no!

So you decided to take him to the local AMC and see the latest horror movie.

You bought him popcorn and a slushie.

The two of you sat in your seats, interlocking your hands as their movie starts. The first jump scare happens and instinctively, you grip his hand tighter. Only to hear him let out a whaling scream. You turn towards him and your face pales as your boyfriend's arm turn completely into green goop.

Bridgette!

You both go pumpkin carving!

She carves a sailboat meanwhile you carve a classic jack o' lantern.

More matching costumes!! She dresses as a mermaid meanwhile you're a prince/princess!

The smell of pumpkin surrounds the kitchen you are both sat on the floor of, you look up from carving your pumpkin to see Bridgette dead focus on carving the perfect pumpkin, to the point she doesn't notice the pumpkin guts on her cheek. Giggling to yourself you wait for the next time she's turning her pumpkin around to scoot closer to her. You wipe the pumpkin guts off of her cheek, she turns her attention towards you for a brief second and you take the opportunity to sweetly kiss her cheek. Successfully catching her off gaurd.

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @filigreeing​ based on this photoset.

Britchell, T

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3.

Teal

—

Anders hates snow. He really fucking hates snow.

His dress shoes slip and slide over the ice, his steps awkward and unsteady as he curses under his breath, grasping onto the teal fence for stability. The frozen wood is icy under his fingertips and it burns but at least it keeps him from falling on his ass.

He’s out in the middle of fucking no where and he’s dressed all wrong for it, no winter coat, no boots, just a fine shirt and thin trousers and a jacket that might as well be paper for how it feels against this biting wind.

He looks up, exhaling a cloud of vapor into the dusky air and thrusts his hands deep into his pockets. Then, remembering what happened last time, he pulls them out, rubbing them together in a half-hearted attempt to bring warmth back to his frozen fingers.

Where the hell is he? He looks around, feeling helpless and miserable and sees nothing but the same damn thing—snow-covered trees bordering a frozen lake, its surface a flat mirror reflecting the thick grey clouds above.

It’s that magic hour, the one just before dusk, when the sun is sinking below the horizon and it gives the world a feeling like it is frozen, like it is stuck in some sort of limbo, bathed in a soft, cold glow. It’s beautiful. It’s like a goddamn postcard. He still fucking hates it.

With no better option, he follows the teal fence until he comes to a stone cottage that stands alone in the endless white, with a door as teal as the fence, almost unnaturally bright in the murky light. A man stands beside the door, dark and rugged and wearing a navy fisherman’s jumper that looks enviously warm and cosy.

“You’re late,” says the man, his voice smooth and lilting

“I’m what?” Anders frowns, his brain still struggling to process. “Sorry, who the fuck are you?”

The man smiles, an expression too knowing for Anders’ liking.

“You always say that,” he says, that same irritating calm in his voice, as if Anders is the one who’s out of place here, not the other way around. But before Anders can form a response on his cold thickened tongue, the man opens the teal door and gestures inside. “You coming in, then? It’s warmer in there.”

And simply because he has no where else to be, Anders goes inside.

It is cosy inside the teal-doored house. A fire roars in the hearth, filling the air with that comforting crackle, and a tree stands by the window, draped in twinkling golden lights that glitter and shine, catching every flicker of flame. But even here, something feels off.

There’s something about the way time stands still in the room that unsettles him

A clock on the mantelpiece ticks away, but the hands are stuck at 5:51. A peacock-blue bird in a cage by the window hasn’t moved an inch, and Anders realises unsettlingly that it must be stuffed.

“What is this place?” Anders frowns. “I never saw any other houses out there.”

“It’s just a house,” the man says, leaning back in one of the armchairs by the fire. He doesn’t seem particularly bothered by anything, and that pisses Anders off more than it should. “You always ask that.”

“Always,” Anders repeats with creeping irritation. “You keep saying that, what do you mean by ‘always’?”

“You don’t remember yet.” The man shrugs, but there’s something in the way his gaze lingers on Anders that feels like more than just casual indifference. His gaze turns to the fire with something like sadness. “But you will.”

It isn’t long before Anders has had enough.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, pushing himself to his feet. He looks to the stranger. “It’s been… well it’s been. Now it’s getting old. I’m out of here.”

The stranger only watches him, that same infuriating smile curling at the corners of his mouth, and makes no move to stop him. No protest, no hurry to get in his way. Just a calm, unblinking gaze.

Anders storms to the door, wrenches it open, and steps back into the snow.

It’s exactly the same as before.

Nothing’s changed. The snow still falls, still swirls in that endless loop between evening and morning. The teal fence stretches away from him, like a lifeline. He starts walking, fast, determined to get somewhere, anywhere, away from the house, away from that damned enigmatic stranger.

But after what feels like hours of trudging through the white void, he stops.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he groans.

The fence is behind him, and there’s the door—his hand is already reaching for it before he’s even fully registered it.

He must have gotten turned around somehow and ended up walking right back to the house. The teal door opens and standing there, as if he’d been waiting for him all this time, is the stranger. Anders sees that his eyes are hazel. Green and brown under a heavy brow.

“What the hell is going on?” Anders snaps, frustration boiling over. “Why can’t I leave?”

“Because you don’t want to,” says the stranger quietly.

“Of course I want to!”

A small smile, a beckoning for him to come back inside, into the warm. “You say that every time.”

Anders paces the room like a caged animal while the stranger tends the fire, feeding it more logs and poking them around until the flames roar with renewed vigour and warmth.

He has quickly realised that whatever this place is, he can’t leave it. So, for now, he has given up trying. But that doesn’t make him any happier with the situation.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you’re not careful,” says the stranger, not looking up from the fire. “Sit for a while, rest.”

Anders does so, reluctantly. He sinks into one of the armchairs and finds that it’s incredibly comfortable. It kind of swallows him up and with that and the warmth of the fire, if he isn’t careful he could easily fall asleep because he can’t remember the last time he slept.

“You might as well tell me your name then,” he says as the stranger sits in the adjoining chair. “Now we’ve got all this cryptic shit out the way.”

“Mitchell.”

“Mitchell,” Anders repeats the name, tasting it on his tongue. “Where are you from? You’ve got an accent.”

“Ireland. Originally.”

“Right.” Anders mutters, leaning back in the chair, his mind still spinning. “I’m Anders.”

“I know,” says Mitchell.

Anders rolls his eyes, despite the creeping unease settling at the back of his neck. “That’s really unnerving when you say shit like that, like you know everything.”

“We’ve been doing this a long time,” Mitchell says simply.

“How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to stop counting.”

Anders’ eyes flicker to the mugs on the table, one filled with steaming milky tea, the other with the perfect flat white—exactly how he likes it, and that just makes his stomach churn with something bitter. “Why is it always me? Why can’t I remember?”

“Because you’re the one who keeps leaving.”

Anders frowns. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Mitchell’s smile deepens, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ll see,” he says.

The fire has dimmed, the embers glowing softly in the hearth, casting long, stretching shadows across the room. Anders stands in front of the teal door, a cold draft from outside curling around his ankles, making him hesitate.

“You can leave,” Mitchell’s voice drifts from behind him, low and unhurried, like he’s said this a thousand times before. “You always do.”

“What happens to you when I go?”

“I wait.”

“Why do you wait?”

Outside, the snow continues to fall—soft, gentle, and endlessly beautiful. It’s that same muted grey light, that timeless limbo between dusk and dawn.

“Because this is where you come back to. Every time.”

Anders stares at the door, his fingers twitching as if he might turn the knob. But this time, it feels different. He doesn’t move. His hand falls to his side, heavy with indecision.

And instead of leaving, he steps back from the door, the warmth of the fire pulling him in.

Mitchell smiles beside him, and for once, Anders doesn’t feel the urge to run.

The snow falls. The fire crackles. And he stays.

It’s morning. Anders wakes, slowly at first, his eyes cracking open to a soft glow filtering in from the window. The fire is still burning, though it’s a faint, tired glow now, the embers glimmering faintly in the hearth. He stretches, stiff from the warmth and the strange comfort of the chair that had pulled him under its spell.

He sits up suddenly, eyes wide. The snow has stopped. Outside the window, the world is different, calmer. The snow-covered trees sparkle in the morning light, their branches dusted with a thin layer of frost, glistening as if the whole forest had been dipped in glass.

Anders jumps to his feet, his pulse racing. He doesn’t even look to Mitchell, the man still curled in the armchair, breathing softly, his dark eyes closed. Anders rushes to the door, and in his haste, his fingers fumble on the knob. He yanks it open, the cold air rushing in with a sharp bite, but he doesn’t care. The world outside is alive again, crisp and fresh and bright. He steps out into the frost, breathing deep, his chest filling with the crisp, fresh air.

The snow crunches beneath his shoes, and for the first time, the world doesn’t feel like it’s holding its breath. He looks up, the sky so clear and bright it almost hurts his eyes. The teal fence is still there, but now it feels like a boundary, a line he can easily cross.

Behind him, the door creaks open. Anders turns to see Mitchell standing there, his expression unreadable.

“Morning,” Mitchell says, his voice soft, like he’s known this moment was coming all along.

Anders stands frozen, eyes scanning the landscape. The silence presses in on him, but it’s not oppressive anymore. It’s… peaceful. “So… now what?” Anders asks, his words trailing off into the empty, frosty air.

Mitchell’s eyes don’t leave him. There’s a quiet certainty there, a knowing that Anders doesn’t quite understand. “It’s up to you” he says simply. “It always has been.“

Anders feels a small knot of doubt in his stomach, that old instinct rising up. He looks at the expanse of white in front of him, the untouched snow stretching out like a blank canvas.

He turns back to Mitchell, and a question hangs between them. He knows that Mitchell feels it too. Their eyes meet and Anders’ breath catches, it feels like the universe has tilted just a fraction, it feels like he’s finally seeing something that had been there all along.

Standing there with Mitchell—under the bright, clear sky, the snow quieting around them—Anders knows now. He know what he has to do. He doesn’t need to leave anymore. He doesn’t need to keep running.

He turns back to Mitchell and he steps forward.

He stays.

Mitchell takes his hand, squeezes gently. And Anders realises, with a sudden, strange clarity, that this is the way it was always meant to be. There’s a calmness between them, a comfortable quiet. This is where he is meant to be.

“How long have you known?” he asks.

“About as long as there have been stars in the sky.”

“Jesus.” Anders snorts. “That’s so corny. Fuck.” But he’s smiling.

The snow falls gently again, softly, like it had never stopped. It’s morning now, and everything feels new.

For the first time, Anders doesn’t want to leave.

He stays.

And the snow falls softly around them, as if the world, at last, is in the right place.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Finally we’ve got the new beginnings! Just met and just married! So much potential ahead of them!

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️ (they be honeymooning! Bring on that newlywed bliss! I mean they’re basically always like that for each other but now they’ve got an excuse and by god are they gonna use it!)

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖 (buck so would be a librarian in another live. Him being all nerdy and helpful and amazing with kids - especially christopher - watch out eddie! You’re gonna fall in love before you know it!)

I’m obsessed with your work and eternally grateful that you share it - but you already knew this :p hope you have fun writing these!

- PCA <3

Oh love this theme!!!!! You are so kind, PCA. I always look forward to your asks.

63 for ⚡️ (Yesssss more honeymoon phase!)

---

Eddie finishes saying goodbye to Adriana and Ravi, says a final goodbye to Christopher, and then puts Buck out of his misery at last by joining him in the truck. 

“We are four minutes behind schedule,” Buck chides as Eddie buckles his seatbelt. 

“Tragic,” Eddie smirks. 

“It will be when we don’t stop for coffee,” Buck warns.

Starting off their honeymoon with a very serious threat. Interesting tactic. Height of romance, really.

“Buck,” Eddie complains. “It’s only an hour and twenty minutes of driving. Surely we can spare a coffee run.”

Buck smirks. “Fine. But I’ll find a way to get my four minutes back at some point.”

Oh, Eddie is sure. He knows who he married.

“Just don’t take it out on the coffee.”

🗲🗲🗲

The rental in San Clemente is literally perfect. 

They’d discussed going further away. Mexico, maybe. But between the wedding, the house, and planning for another kid, they decided not to spend more than necessary. Plus, they already live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. They didn’t need to go very far. 

The moment they walk into the little condo, Buck knows they made the right choice. It’s a tidy one bedroom with a full kitchen, a king sized bed, a big shower, a private ocean-view balcony, and a walk down to the beach. 

“This is incredible,” Eddie grins, walking out onto the balcony. 

“We are going to enjoy this balcony,” Buck agrees. 

Eddie shoots him a look. “Buck…”

“Honeymoon rules apply here, Eddie,” Buck tells him.

“Honeymoon rules?” Eddie asks skeptically. “What are those?”

“Making them up as I go along,” Buck informs him.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. 

Yeah. They’re definitely going to enjoy the balcony. 

☆☆☆

Neither of them has had a honeymoon before. Neither of them is particularly accustomed to vacations, either. Though, perhaps Buck has some of the old Peruvian resort lifestyle living in him somewhere. Needless to say, it takes them both a minute to figure out what to do with literally nothing they need to do. Buck unpacks the groceries. Eddie searches the cupboards for glassware and pours them wine in nice, big blue-tinted glasses. They manage to relax on the balcony for, like, an hour, before they both get a bit twitchy.

“We aren’t sit and stare at the sea people, are we?” Eddie asks.  

“No, I don’t think we are.” Buck agrees. 

“What do honeymoon rules say about swimming while slightly intoxicated?” Eddie posits. 

A little ill-advised. But it’s not like they’re shit faced. And, well, Eddie doesn’t have a lot of ill-advised fun stories. 

“Oh, let me review with the board,” Buck teases. “Hmm. Apparently it’s fine if we conveniently forget we’re first responders.”

“And parents?” Eddie suggests.

“Oh, yeah. Good call.”

“Then maybe we can have some fun?” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows.

“I like the sound of that.”

---

51 for 📖 (YEAH EDDIE WILL):

---

No one is home. 

As he drives away, he just hopes the gesture will be appreciated and not seen as totally creepy. 

viii. 

It’s a long time before Buck hears back about the gift. Which is good in that, he doesn’t get in trouble for abusing the library cardholder database. He spends two weeks nervous he’s going to hear about that every shift.

When he does hear back about it, it’s the fall. School starts up again, and Christopher is enrolled in the aftercare programs. Buck is relieved when he sees his name on the lists.  Like it’s a sign that perhaps things are okay.

He sees Christopher again before he sees Eddie. Right away during the first week of school. 

“Chris!” Buck exclaims happily when he sees him come through the library doors. “How are you, pal? It’s been a while.”

“I’m good,” Christopher answers happily. Then, he walks over, and gives Buck a quick hug. “Thank you for my books, Buck. They made me smile.”

Buck ends the hug quickly. It’s kind of a discouraged behavior. Though a gray area when the kid initiates. But he’s touched. Happy the gift had an impact, and that Chris remembers. Even after a few months. 

“You’re welcome,” Buck replies. “I’m really glad to see you back, kiddo.”

Chris smiles. “Thanks, Buck.”

It’s a few more days until he sees Eddie. When he does, he’s sort of concerned. It’s not exactly the Eddie he remembers. His hair is shorn. His eyes are tired. There’s a strange pattern of bruises on his forearms. He looks rough. If they were actually friends, Buck would ask him about it. But all he can do is quietly observe.

“It’s good to see you again,” Buck smiles as Eddie approaches the front desk before picking Chris up. “We missed Chris around here.”

Eddie nods. “I, uh… I wanted to thank you. Your gift was really appreciated. Sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“Hey, that’s not why I sent it. Just wanted you both to know… Well, that I’m really sorry.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says. “That’s kind.”

There’s a hollowness in his voice. Like he’s accepted a lot of condolences lately. 

[crazycurly-77]

Bob (20/24)

This is written in the style of the series 24.

Events occur in real time.

Hour 20 of 24: 05:00 p.m. - 06:00 p.m.

05:02:41 p.m.

NCIS headquarters:

Within a short time, you had more or less instilled in Tony the knowledge he needed that, with a bit of luck, he would pass as a pilot.

Then you all changed clothes, which led to great astonishment, because the men looked stunning in their fine suits (Gibbs in black and DiNozzo in dark blue). Some of the ladies at the party will certainly turn around to look at them.

They had put you in a floor-length, tight, red and low-cut dress that was very sexy and fueled the men's imagination. Perfect for distracting the guards later.

“Wow, you look great. How about we go out to eat together after the event?” Tony asked you with a grin.

You were just about to answer when Gibbs came and gave him a head-slap. He also reprimanded him annoyed: “Stop hitting on my girlfriend.”

You couldn't help but laugh, but then Abby came and wired you up so that you could communicate with the two men in an emergency.

When she was finished, she grinned at DiNozzo and you and said: “Your names are Joshua and Kitty. In your role, first names are enough.”

“Joshua and Kitty? Are you serious?” asked Tony and Abby nodded enthusiastically.

05:12:31 p.m.

In the car on the way to the coast:

When Gibbs, Tony and you drove to the coast, you went over the plan and its procedure again in detail to clarify any questions.

The biggest question was whether you would even get there alive, because Gibbs drove at breakneck speed, as he usually did. But the more often you sat next to him in the car, the more you got used to his driving style.

Your approach once you were on the boat was clear. But you noticed a crucial detail: “The plan has a small flaw,” you said thoughtfully.

“And you’re only thinking of that now?!” Tony shouted in horror from the back seat.

“Which one?” Gibbs asked sullenly.

“I need a special helmet to fly the helicopter.”

“Why?” the investigator wanted to know.

“The visor has a special targeting for the defense and tracking systems,” you replied.

“Can it work without one?”

“It’ll be difficult, but yes.”

“Good,” said Gibbs and stepped on the brakes, because you had reached your provisional destination.

05:32:56 p.m.

On deck of the yacht:

The first guests arrived. All in a speedboat so that they could quickly flee again if necessary, because preparation was everything. And in this society you had to expect anything.

Each guest was greeted by the security staff with a “Welcome on board”. In addition, everyone was searched for weapons and these were taken into custody. Better safe than sorry.

05:41:23 p.m.

In the private rooms on the yacht:

The boss was standing in his dressing room and tying his bow tie when his right-hand man entered the room.

Looking at him over the mirror in front of him, he asked his subordinate critically: “How are things going?”

“The guests are coming,” the man answered routinely.

The boss turned to him, raised an eyebrow and asked critically: “Is everything prepared?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, then let's hope they're in a spending mood today!” the boss replied and laughed.

If everything went well, he would be even richer and therefore even more powerful at the end of the day.

05:48:34 p.m.

In the party room of the yacht:

The party room gradually filled up with the select guests. They were the henchmen of powerful bosses and their female companions, each one more beautiful than the last.

As soon as the gentlemen saw each other, old and new rivalries flared up between them, which will probably end in either a bidding war or a physical confrontation...or both. Who knew for sure?

05:51:53 p.m.

On the aft deck of the yacht:

Every guest was curious about the machine that was to be auctioned off in a short time and went out to take a look at it.

They couldn’t see much because the immediate area was cordoned off by guards.

This naturally caused speculation, along with the question: “It looks absolutely ordinary... is it a fake? Is it a trap?”

05:57:12 p.m. ... the clock was ticking…

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

Here you will find the other chapters of this story.

Masterlist stories - Part 1 (finished ones)

Masterlist stories - Part 2 (finished/ongoing)

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

[skykashi]

You call yourself kakashi lover and you can't even accept that he is aging? shame, I thought you love kakashi

First of all, who the heck are you to decide if I love Kakashi or not?!! second, I was avoiding talking about this again because I don't wanna argue with anyone, I don't want the one thing that I'm using as a stress reliever to give me more stress! and not that I owe you any explanation at all but I'm gonna explain this once and for all to get this over with.

As I said before, there's absolutely nothing wrong with aging, it's natural and beautiful because it's a sign of being alive BUT!! when 51 years old Jiraiya looks like this

Then 46 Kakashi shouldn't look like 61 years old Hiashi or 73 years old Danzo!!

Because I love Kakashi, I want him to be old and healthy not look 20 years older than he actually is!!

Kishimoto's Kakashi has the wrinkles that a healthy 46 year old should have, not those huge eyebags that that one frame from Sasuke Retsuden has, that doesn't even look the same as the other Kakashi panels from the same manga and YES!! those giant eyebags would still be visible in a side view panel.

This is how Kishimoto drew Kakashi in Konoha Shinden which it's events happened awhile after Naruto chapter 700

This is how Kishimoto drew Kakashi for Boruto the movie which it's timeline is only one year prior to the current events in Boruto and looks a lot similar to how he drew him in chapter 700 with just 2 lines at the sides of his eyes

And this is how Kishimoto drew Kakashi for the Retsuden series

No giant eyebags on sight 🙄 and again yes it would still be visible in a side view if it was there, like this

And you know what anon? In that one panel from Sasuke Retsuden that started all of that, Zansūru was the one who was talking at the time and that was how Zansūru who I don't think has ever even met Kakashi before was picturing Kakashi in his head, but when Sasuke who saw Kakashi just few days before the mission was the one talking, Kakashi looked like this

And yes those giant eyebags would have still been visible in a side view panel 🙂 so yeah, I want Kakashi to age and look his actual age, 46 in the Retsuden's timeline and 47 in the current Boruto timeline. NOT FRIGGIN' 60!!

Finally, anon, even if you still disagree with me, that's fine, I don't really care, I didn't ask anyone to agree with me, it's absolutely normal for different ppl to have different opinions, we don't have to fight or be rude to each other just because we have different pov.. seriously!

[survivalist-anon]

Log 12: Long Road to the Stars.

It has been roughly 12 hours since they were departed from Lorey and Fjord. Sten and Toke now embark on a mission to retrieve a Raven Guard by the name Wick. Just two hours away from the city of Las Vegas, the Imperial Fist's transport bus had to make a necessary stop at what deceptively looks like an abandoned gas pump, likely built as a result of the expectations of the nuclear age of the 1950's. Parking right next to an old, derelict fiberglass statue of a clown holding a gas pump.

The driver, Moors, lowers the driver side window. Sticks his head out, hanging his turgid arm out like a trucker.

The eyes of the clown begin to glow green, clearly indicating there is a camera behind the big, happy wide eyed time pieces. A little slip opens on the clown's bowtie, revealing a mic.

~Ckkssshhh

"Hehehehey Hello Welcome to Gassy Gus's Gas Pump! HOooow may I be of service?"

A scraggly, cigarette scarred voice eruptes from the mic.

Moors never ceases to be amused by this. "Yeah, give me the usual Gus."

Sten, Toke, Bilhard and Cahrilo watch from the bus's camera system. While this isn't new for Cahrilo and Bilhard, Toke and Sten watch in discomfort at the creepy talking clown.

"It's like someone took a Harlequin's head, stretched it and inflated it. Never would I be so unfortunate to see something so depraved.", Toke whispered as quietly as he could to Sten.

Sten stood there less in horror but more in underwhelmed bewilderment. "Yes...'tis.... unnerving."

Cahrilo and Bilhard look at each other, rolling their eyes at their reactions.

Outside of the bus, an old crusty, funky little man, still dressed in the Woodstock 60's outfit with some odds and ends of spaceage memorabilia, comes out from the gas station woman's restroom door. Looking like a human, maximalist's wall of colorful alien Americana, with big iridescent googles, long dreads with plastic and metal charms intertwined within the tight knots.

The boys where shooketh, Cahrilo and Bilhard however literally were use to this horrendously whimsical spaceman.

"Hehehe, well now long time no see boys! How's them yuppies up north treatin y'all?!", he gives the haul of the bus a hardy slap. He goes up to the clown and takes out an industrial hose, hooking the giant nozzle into the gas tank. He jambles to the driver side. "Well Moors, HA, yah still don't look a day over 50!".

"And you have aged like fine cheese Gus! How are those fools back at Area 51? They haven't questioned why some of their fine equipments' been missing have they?", Moors and Gus go way back since the 50's. Moors, much like any of the other Astartes, had come involuntarily to Earth. Moors had been wharp sent to Ohio in Gus's family corn farm. Since then, Moors has been Gus's guardian Astartes since he was five years old. Occasionally visiting him in his later years since he joined Aldercon's facility.

"Oh those narcs hadn't even opened them danggone garages since Roswell! So what brings you down here in the fine bosom of the Newe land?", he says with a big old, carefree smile on his face.

A good chortle from Moors was a sign that he's happy because his mortal was happy. "Ah, it's Wick again. You've seen him around?", he inquires.

Gus pouts, putting his old noggin to work. "Hmmm, let me ask Keith!", takes out a sock puppet, his puppet silent, whispers into his ear, "hmmm...oh really?! Again? Great moogly that's incredible! Hmmhmm, oh....oh Keith stop it now.", he casually puts his sock puppet. "According to Keith, Wick raced the airbase again yesterday! He almost bit the dust this time. Buuuuut it seems he's in Vegas, only other place. Don't know why he keeps going there for. ", Gus over the years has developed Dementia and age related mental health issues, Moors has tried and tried again to convince to move to Fort Dorn, but sadly Gus seems to be extremely resistant to the whole plan.

"Is that so......well. Looks like I'll heading to Heresy town then. Gus. Why don't you stick with us for awhile. You do understand that you don't have to be here.", although Moors doesn't show it on his face, it breaks both his hearts to see Gus hasn't gotten any better. "We can bring your Unidentified Flying Objects too."

The crunchy desert man knew what the discussion was leading to, his smile turned into a sad frown. "Oh Moors, I can't. The desert stars need me! The great road to Milky Way Galaxy has yet to be defended, the Long Road to the Stars! I have to defend them from the forces of darkness, welcome them those can BE welcomed with open arms, and who's going to give them MIBs the good ol' runaround!? Them boys in black gotta give up one day ya know! I'd love to Moors, but I'm...needed here.", he looks to the blue void of the noon sky. "My time ain't done yet.", he whispers to himself.

A tired sigh flies from Moors. He knows Gus doesn't have much time in this world. The longer he waits for Gus to consent to coming with him, the higher the chances he will have to retrieve Gus from his bunker. "All right Gus, but listen...if you need anything. Remember I'm always here kid.", as Moors was telling him this, Gus had already unlocked the gas hose, closed everything up for next time.

Gus skitters back to the driver side window, "I'll be fine Moors, you go on ahead a win against the house big fella, take care now", again that big smile from cheek to cheek gleamed in the sunshine of the Nevada heat, waving goodbye as the bus goes on.

Moors waving his goodbyes as well.

As the buss drove a long the stretch of highway towards Los Vegas, Bilhard had gone to the driver seat slot and opened it to see if Moors was ok.

"Moors. How are you feeling?", Bilhard asking.

Moors was silent for a short moment, "....he's getting worse.", he whispers to himself, his usually calm demeanor has become somber.

"Hey, Moors, are you going to be ok?", he asked again, dryly yet concerned.

"Oh, yeah, I'm going to be fine.....for those who live such short lives...why must they be so stubborn.", Moors pondered loudly.

"It's because they live such short lives they make these decisions for themselves Moors, remember where you came from.", Bilhard had to remind Moors the occasional truth of Astartes.

For every angle of the Emperor, was once mortal.

Moors had to accept Gus's decision. Wether he wanted to or not. "Yeah...I guess....", he turns on the radio to distract himself from his own thoughts.

As country music blasts on the radio, the bus heads out to Los Vegas, the city sin, sex and as of recently..... something sinister.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My dreams were once nothing but dark voids of screaming voices and sounds of bolters going off ....now .....they speak to me through visions of tormentful pleasures of desire and uncertainty.

It would have gone forever, if it hadn't been for the blaring sounds of traffic outside the penthouse suite. The smell of last night's passionate rutting had been dancing with opened bottles of sweeted acholic beverages, perfume and more.

Surrounded by the majority of the female cast and a few brave fools for the casino's seasonal....I hazard to say performance....more like an avant-garde bastardization of some cultural myths from thousands of years ago.

One could consider me a king, surrounded by his well-satisfyed harem......I was merely a willing whore to these lonely souls.

For my heart belonged to one who was not laying upon my bare body in this room. One who is pure as her heart was kind.

These mortals can have my body....for everything else was hers....and hers alone.

I lay there pondering, how have I been so lucky as to not fully corrupt myself and give in to the chaos of deviancy and lust, does Slenessh not see the usefulness for their Chaos in me? Has the emperor blessed me with immunity, turning a blind eye to my activities? Is there nothing in this reality that could be even considered some divinity to hinder or help me, and I have just reverted to the comforting, familiar embrace of animalistic instinct....to endlessly spread my seed and be stirred by true unfiltered sexual high?

....than again....I could be just being....as chaplain Aldercon would so graciously say, 'being over dramatic '.... considering my role in this burlesque garbage.......he could be once again correct.

I turn my head to the hotel door, I could hear the heavy, lumbering footsteps our....our show director.... William Sleen.....

He unlocks the door, already smelling of his filthy cigars and tasteless cheap cologne.

"WAKE UP LADIES! oh I see there's a few gentleman here, hehe, come on folks! Next show starts at 5 o'clock this afternoon! Come on wakey wakey!", a quarter of a mortal man in sense of the word....his vision is just a sick, perverse fantasy of the exploitations of beauty, he was no cultured man either....his show from my understanding doesn't reflect the reality of the stories he had vicariously stole for profit. I could see him glinting at me through those glasses of his.

"Ah there's my Atlas! And my Hercules, and well hehe my big bronze robot.", he could barely even remember the correct name of his own characters.

"Do you mean, Talos? The bronze creation of the god of fire?", I could oml growl, everyone was in blissful peace this morning.

"Yeah yeah whatever! The guy who kidnaps Madea! Hmf, you college going types are so nitpicky, anyways Lady Luck for some damn reasons out to get a taste of your staff too. The hydrologic and pyrotechnics have broken down so looks like you won't sweatin all over the place for act 2. Sheesh.", he practically ravages the curtains open.

The collective groans spoke volumes of the protest of the early morning routine of waking up, eating their fill at the buffet downstairs for the day, and rehearsals until the show begins. It was clear the continued labor of the previous production's work load had exhausted them to the soul.

I gently coerced the actresses wrapped around my arms. "Ladies, good morning.", greeted by kisses to my chest and jaw are at this point a highlight of the morning. In spite of my guilt, I do not object to experiencing such pleasantries....the highest luxury back home on Deliverance.

"oooh good morning Wicky, last night was absolutely crazy.", Angelina cooed. Her twin, Magan, was busy getting up, caressing me. "Good morning handsome."

Adjust myself, clearing my throat, "Good morning every one.", my one command was enough to get the cast mobilized. "See ....a good morning is all you need.", ever since I've come into the scene.... Sleen has been having a bit of trouble even persuading anyone to even fallowing his suggestions.

His sneered grimace said it best on how he felt about me, "well I ain't paying you overtime to be a volunteer director here WICK. Anyways, I'm not in the mood for your Edger Allen Poe bullcrap either, I already have my brother coming in from Hollywood just POACHING my best and brightest.", his brother a movie producer named Carl Sleen, is his older sibling who's been known to make even the least known plebian into celebrities. His talent is to get hidden potential, and elevate them to fame and fortune.

From what I hear, it's a shame he is an exception and not an example.

"Well...hehe, he ain't getting my Selene. She's off limits. Can't have him taken my star performer.", he looks to me, knowing very well that he has also forbid me from interacting with her. The mortal equivalent of a squig hobbles to me, audaciously before I have even gotten out of the bed.

"Listen here big, oversized, cock. You know your role in the act, and it's to stay BENEATH the earth...yah got that? It means both on and OFF stage....", his reeking breath had nearly triggered my deepest fight response.... reminding me of the foul smelling Orks I was accustom to crushing under my boots.

"But of course.......it would be....greedy of me to ask for anything more.", I wasn't going to let this 'nurgling' get in my way.....I needed the money, but I also had to fane my loyalty to him if he were to pay me.

Selene was an immigrant from Mayotte, her family had to leave the country due to political tensions and later planned on escaping to Paris few years ago. Unfortunately, Selene had become caught in an international trafficking ring. Ending up here in this bright neon hell scape.

She was the best acrobatics performer in Los Vegas. She had worked her way through multiple shows, but now she was in Sleen's wardenship.

The crew head down stairs for our morning meal, I contemplate on how was I going to convince the battle brothers back at Fort Dorn not to put me under house arrest.

What has once started as a meaningless drive to challenge even the fastest of aircraft...now has metamorphosised into a mission to help Selene.

"So Wick, I heard yous almost died yesterday. Haha, what happened the Air Force narcs nearly beat at chicken or something?", one of our cast members, 'Tulio', was one of the back stage hands who had helped me get to my position since I had arrived in the outskirts of this city a few years ago.

"Yes. I crashed into one of the mountain sides. I lost control of the air stream and lost focus.", I responded.

"Man, you gotta be more careful, those guys at the air station literally go SPLAT if they crash. Lucky that fancy Ironman suit of yours actually works. Not like the cheap prop stuff.", he takes a quick look at the pantry chef at the dessert table. "Hey homes, I reckon you got 20... maybe 30 seconds. Mr. Wan is working.", the second I saw one of the chefs, I spared no second heading to him.

Covertly slipping him a piece of paper. "For Madame Moon, please.", I grab a plate not to see conspicuous.

He gives me a nod.

For my time here, I have befriended much of the casino staff, all of which willing to assist me with Selene.

"Smooth homes, by the way thanks I like cheesecake for breakfast.", Tulio takes the plate. "So what now, you and I don't got nothing to do for like ....8 hours?", he happy takes a sizable bite.

"hmmm....I'm in the mood for a rematch. Meet me at the truck in an hour.", as I get up from the table to pay the bill, I pass Selene.

She had passed by without a glance. As per Sleen's request....I couldn't tell what she was doing...but I'm certain she will answer the message.

End of log 12

@kit-williams @barn-anon @egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @walking-natural-disaster

@starfrost740 @squishyowl

[useless19]

I was kinda hoping for a junior birthday edition of days, i loved junior in this series? I thought you were hinting twards it to. Did you have ideas or was it just a way to reasure bowser that luigi would be back?

So was I! I made a space for it in my drafts doc and everything, but I couldn't figure out enough of a plot to hang it together. It might've been because by that point I was starting to wind down my writing in Days with an aim to finish the series off, or it could have been because it would've required a fairly heavy narrative switch and I was already struggling with Bowser's pov for Day 16.

Or it could've been that I didn't want to have to figure out what a spoilt 8-year-old Koopa prince's birthday presents were going to be!

It's Junior's birthday, so it's going to be the most coolest awesomest day of the entire year! -the planned summary

Like King Boo, I left myself the option of writing Junior's birthday just in case. I've honestly found this to be pretty useful for constructing the series as a whole. Things happen that the narrative doesn't show (Luigi thinks about taking Junior Lava Bubble fishing one time, but we never see that), and allowing myself the freedom of not having to write it meant that I managed to finish more other parts than I ever thought I would when starting.

Still, I know roughly where the characters are at on Day 51 (aka Junior's birthday), so let's have a look at them, shall we?

Luigi extends his visit so he leaves the day after Junior's birthday. It's much easier for him to agree to stay longer than it is for him to commit to a longer stay before he arrives. He gets comfortable where he is. He spent the previous day making sure Junior knew he was going to leave after his birthday so that he wouldn't have to keep reminding Junior on his birthday and bring the mood down. Luigi likes a good party and he doesn't have to be the centre of attention, so he has a great time.

Bowser likes a party even more than Luigi and his son is growing up so well. He's way more tolerant of destructive antics than most parents too (he's got minions to deal with mess and rebuilding). He also starts to realise some of Luigi's problems when it comes to visiting; ie that he's very suggestible. It's not an entirely conscious observation, but he's less worried when Luigi leaves and spends more than a week away, despite saying that he was only going for a week. There's always going to be some lag. Email updates help (even if the first one is from a long-suffering Mario).

(If anyone other than me did the maths and figured out that Luigi wouldn't actually be at Bowser's castle for Day 69, assuming a consistent week-in-the-Mushroom-Kingdom/week-in-Bowser's-castle, this is why. It's always a bit more than a week-long visit).

And, of course, Junior. He's more resilient than Bowser in the being abandoned department, though he's still a bratty kid who's used to having his own way. He's very determined to show Luigi every single last one of his presents so Luigi will know what he's missing out on if he goes ahead with his stupid leaving plan. Similarly, the Koopalings also get the full range, but they have to leave in dribs and drabs over the next week too.

I guess part of why I couldn't figure out a plot was because Junior is going to be getting more and more intense and overexcited as his birthday party goes on and that would narrow the focus too much to be interesting.

(Maybe the lesson here is that putting it in Junior's pov was a bad call and I should've been trying to see Luigi's thoughts on the whole thing).

I don't know what Luigi would get Junior. He'd probably play it safe and do some art supplies (which are fine, but nothing super exciting and he gets a bit miffed when Junior moves on fairly quickly). He also delivers a letter from Peach (which Junior initially dismisses as boring), with an invitation to a brand new tournament she's organising (I'd have just picked a random sport that's not a main Mario tie-in game, or maybe one of the less represented sports like one of the Olympic ones). Luigi can't remember speaking with her about that, but he must've said enough for her to do this. Junior's quite excited over this - it's his own invitation, not just his dad's!

I also imagine that Mario sends something, maybe food? Possibly a bunch of hot sauce bottles from the various places he's helped out (they won't stop sending them and, while he likes spicy food, he can't eat this much!)? He puts the same amount of effort into it as he would a nephew. Luigi's also surprised at this and has to deal with the (actually super obvious in hindsight) realisation that he's sort of on his way to becoming Junior's step-dad, not just a regular old babysitter.

(Yeah, this would've been a challenge to properly depict in Junior's pov. Possibly an interesting one though.)

It was definitely set up more as potential day for writing, but it was useful to help reassure Bowser once I'd added it.

[batmanschmatman]

8, 25, 51 for an OTP of your choice from the OTP ask game?

tsym for the ask! gonna do winnix bc I always have them on the brain.

eight: what happens if one of them gets sick?

I feel like Nix is usually a little bit of a baby about being sick, just like being grumpy and reluctant to do anything beyond being burrowed in blankets and trying to sleep it off. Not full on whiny, impossible to be around, but tired and grouchy about being sick and happy to be looked after. Dick keeps him well hydrated and lets him curl up on him and doze while Dick reads and pets his hair. It's very much Dick doesn't mind looking after him and does it without being asked, and Nix is happy to soak up all the tlc and take it easy until he feels better.

Dick is one of those guys who pretends he's fine until he feels like absolute shit and has a hard time submitting to people taking care of him. This is sometimes tough bc Nix likes to take care of him and Dick doesn't want to be a huge bitch to him, so there are times when he might want to be like go away >:C but then remembers he's being stupid and immature and Nix loves him so much and it's okay to let someone bring him soup and painkillers.

Nix is a patient good sport about it bc he's used to Dick being reluctant to be looked after and he knows he's really just grouchy to be feeling lousy and not mad at him.

(side note: wrote a fic about this exact situation as a pinch hit for heavy artillery's exchange last december for my wife which you can find here, although it's locked to registered users only.)

twenty five: Do they have any hobbies they share?

At first glance, not really besides basic stuff like they enjoy reading or watching a movie and both were very smart good students (or you know, Nix would've been a better student if he hadn't been capable of coasting vs. working super hard at it), but I think especially post war they definitely get some hobbies in common. Namely I think Nix gets Dick on the travel train because Dick is adventurous and curious about other places, but didn't have a lot of opportunity to explore that before the war, and then they both take care of the gardens at both their place in NJ and the house in PA. Historical!Nix apparently got very into fancy French cooking post war so Jess and I have adopted that for our post-war headcanon for BOB!Nix, so he'd start getting opinions about an herb garden and fresh vegetables and help Dick out or do stuff himself. Dick also is Nix's sous chef/prep cook/clean up crew, or will just keep him company in the kitchen and catch each other up on their days while Nix makes some fancy dinner.

But honestly in general I think they both love the other person so much that even hobbies they're not as into kind of become their hobbies anyway bc they like keeping each other company, lol.

fifty one: what’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

So obviously they excel at this. I think the biggest thing is always like, just how much they're in tune to the other's emotional state and physical/emotional needs. Nix in particular is very good at finding little gifts to offer Dick to help cheer him up or look after him, and I very much think it's a thing of like post war at home he'll bring him a cup of coffee when he gets home from work or picks up a new pair of his favorite slippers when the old ones are getting ratty but Dick would insist they don't need to replace them yet.

Also Dick's just like, steady constant presence in Nix's life, which I think is a huge deal for Sad Little Rich Boy. Dick's seen him at his worst but is still here and won't abandon him, and again especially post-war it's very we're in this together so we face it together, how can I help? And Nix is still a little shocked that Dick hasn't decided to hell with this, bye, every time it happens but obviously he's not going anywhere because he loves him. c: