#one time it did take like 2 months for the op to reply so i will try and be patient

[avicebro]

I know it takes time and may never happen but it is like, a bit disheartening to not receive feedback when you've done a fill for someone. Like it's petty but there's some fills I would do, but knowing that when I filled for that ship before/that character I didn't get a response makes it so I'm not compelled to fill it.

[fandomnerd9602]

Home on the Run (2)

Yelena Belova x Venom!Reader

Set during Thunderbolts*

“You did what?!” Yelena asked angrily, pacing around as Venom practically shrunk back into you.

“I didn’t know about it” you say rather defensively.

“Sorry. But you were heading out on missions and coming home drunk! What was I supposed to do?” Venom argues.

“He’s right” you shrug. “Lena we are worried about you. I’m worried about you!”

“I’m fine!” Yelena yells back only to stop herself. “I’m—I’m fine. And you’re siding with the alien?”

She walks over and begins surveying the area of the base. Bob meekly walks up to you.

“Relationship troubles?” Bob asks.

“Just a bump in the road” you put a hand on his shoulder, “I’m not sure how you got here, Bob, but Venom and I are gonna get you out of here.”

“M-Maybe it’s just better if I stay behind,” he mumbles, “I mean…I’ll just slow you down”

“You’re not an issue Bob. And we don’t leave anyone behind”

“But I’m…I feel like there’s a …void in me and…” he slowly backs away.

“We all have a void in us,” Yelena gently says, “just bury it. like deep down”

“That’s not what Sam told me” venom gently adds.

“How are we gonna get out of here,” Walker says, inspecting the elevator shaft.

“There’s no power.” Ava adds. “And I can’t phase up there. I can’t fly”

Lash and Venom immediately took over you and Yelena. The two symbiotes look to each other.

“I got Ava and Bob, Poppa”

“And I sadly got Walker” venom says.

“Sadly?” Walker intones, an eyebrow raised.

Venom and Lash slowly but surely climbed up the inside of the elevator shaft. And yet somehow the bickering wouldn’t stop.

“Just admit it, Walker. You’re a discount Captain America!” Ava smirked.

“I was Captain America!” He argued back

“And how did that pan out?” Venom shouts. “I am getting hungry (Y/N)! And Walker is looking real tasty right now!”

“Please don’t” Walker replied.

Yelena kinda of pulls herself out of Lash and turns to you, “can we talk?”

You turn, allowing Venom to keep climbing, “sure”

“Why did you come?”

“Simple. Because while you’ve been a pain in the ass lately, I still love you Lena” you say softly.

“Pain in the ass, really?”

“You began taking these assignments without asking me! Were supposed to be a team”

“You were playing house keeper” she argues back.

“Someone had to! Our kids need you, Lena. You want me to say it?” You huff, “I need you too”

“I thought you didn’t” she sighs, “Natalie’s hanging out with friends and Alex…he’s so adventurous.”

“They still need you,” you respond, “so do I”

“Not that it’s any of my business,” Bob asks, “but you two are..?”

“Married” Yelena answers.

“And how long has it been since you two…umm…knocked boots?” Bob winces at his own question.

“Knocked boots?” Walker asks, a laugh escaping his lips.

“Too long” you gently say

“Four months. Two weeks. Two days” Yelena looks to you a little sad.

“You pulled away once Natalie started fourth grade…and started doing ops again.”

“I’m sorry” yelena’s eyes drop a little.

Venom slams the elevator door open and throws Walker to safety. You and Venom along with Lash, Yelena, Ava and Bob all land a few seconds later.

“Next time, we’re going to a councilor’s office!” Venom remarks as he shrinks back into you.

Bob trips and touches Walker. You don’t quite know what he saw but Walker walked almost to the edge of the elevator shaft. You grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Walker? You good?” You try to ask him.

“Y-Yeah. You good?” Walker tries to shake it off but he still looks a little shaken.

Bob looked out the front entrance and froze, “oh no. Guys I think you might wanna see this”

You and Yelena look out to see an entire army of OXE employed soldiers. “Fall back” yelena orders as she grabs you and Bob and heads towards the elevator.

“Fight, momma?” Lash asks

“No no little one. If they had those mean sonic canons for Ava and us down in the chamber, they must have them on hand”

“Great! So what do we do? Just roll over and expose our bellies?”

“They’re gonna shoot gas cans and send in waves” Walker states. “Standard procedure.”

“Anything else you wish to hold over us because of your military career?” Ava says.

“College university quarterback”

“Oh useful,” Yelena states, “I used to be part of peewee soccer team called the Thunderbolts”

“Who sponsored that again?” Venom asks you, all you could do was shrug.

The plan was set. Yelena would blind the strike team when they all switched to night vision.

It mostly worked. As well as a plan written in crayon.

Ava got an escape vehicle. You all loaded yourselves in. Walker would drive while Bob sat in the back.

You were all almost clear when a couple soldiers pulled you over. Bob jumped out and tried to buy you all some time, fleeing back to the base while shooting a gun

You thought he went down in a hail of bullets only for him to stand back up and fly into the open sky. A few seconds later he crashed down sending out a shockwave and knocking your truck off the winding road.

You wrapped yourself and Yelena in Venom’s tendrils as the truck corkscrewed down the mountain side.

Even in the pitch black dark, you could feel Yelena’s face mere inches from yours.

“Yelena? Baby you good?” You tried to slow down your breathing.

“Project Sentry” was all she could say.

To Be Continued…

Tags @deafeningsharkslimeempath @sparks123123 @supercorpdanbeau @marveldcfandom @ma1egamer @multi-fandom-enjoyer @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @julieromanoff @russianredassassin @revanshand @texaswolf23 @marvelflame2010 @vikingking-05

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝟑𝐊 𝐕-𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

welcome to the table of contents for my three-thousand followers celebration !!!

i’m amazed that we’ve reached this milestone, and so quickly at that! in under three months there were one thousand more of y'all !!! in that short period, i did succeed in staying active on tumblr and interacting with many of you—i got so many requests that i’m STILL working my way through, i’ve chatted to some of you through my inbox, and dm’s or replies, and i will forever be grateful for the endless support, laughs, and encouragement y’all have offered me.  sending love to my moots: ilysm. thank you for any bit of chatting you’ve had with me—i really do cherish every one of you, no matter how small or large our interaction has been. extremely happy to call you my moots < 3. @biancathecool @barnestatic @ashiekins @saintslewis @lorarri @ham1lton @loomiscorpse @vetteltea @hookhausenschips @shurisasthmaticgf @mauvecherie-writes @omgsuperstarg @justaf1girl @emjayewrites (i'm sorry if i've forgotten someone, i love you dearly, i promise x) and, of course, a huge ily & tysm to the members of the taglists! i would tag you here but there are too many of you (pls i love y'all down < 3) and it would break the post :) i can’t promise that i will be able to answer every ask, but i will try my hardest to do as many as i can. i love you all and thank you so much, loves. xoxox

i mainly write fem!black/poc!readers so if you would like another race/ethnicity for the !reader please send that in your request! please feel free to send a faceclaim too! i accept male! & gn!reader requests as well!

before sending your request check for: an approved driver(s) from the mechanic list below, you've specified which prompt list and number you are selecting, and that you've adhered to the blog guidelines !!!

THIS EVENT HAS ENDED. READ THE COMPLETED 3k vday celly fics here.

posts tagged as # httpss :/ 3k vday celly. | status: completed | table of contents.

choose your mechanic(s) — mv. 1 | ls. 2 | dr. 3 | ln. 4 | pg. 10 | ka. 12 | fa. 14 | cl. 16 | ls. 18 | yt. 22 | aa. 23 | ll. 30 | eo. 31 | fc. 43 | lh. 44 | ms. 47 | cs. 55 | gr. 63 | op. 81 | ob. 87

🚗 let’s take a look! — send me the @ of someone you want to show love to! it can be absolutely anyone: a writer, a moot, a friend, or a funny blog you love !!! be the positivity we all want to receive :)

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🛞  tread’s uneven: time for a tire rotation! — send me a driver and a prompt from this list of pre-relationship prompts, or these established relationship prompts, or these hurt/comfort prompts, and i’ll write a blurb or drabble for you xxx (prompt lists are made by me!)

🛢️ 3,000 miles: time for an oil change! — send me a driver and a random word/theme/vibe (literally !!! any word/theme/vibe) and i’ll make a tiny social media au for you !!!

🧽🪣 would you like a complimentary car wash? — send me any five (5) drivers and one (1) kink from this list, and i will rank the drivers in order of who i think is most to least likely to participate/avoid, or love/hate that kink !!! each driver will have a small blurb written xxx

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© httpsserene — photos used in header are from pinterest. mdni divider from @cafekitsune.

[tealsage7]

Taking the Chance (Benji Dunn x Original Female Character) Chapter 2: Go to the Extraction Point!!!

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

A/n: Here is chapter two in the story! You really get to see more of the team at work Benji and Charlotte's relationship.

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

Chapter 2: Go to the Extraction Point!!

*Moscow*

Agent Charlotte Hall, going on six years with the IMF.

I’ve completed missions that most people would call impossible, because they were. And somehow, through near death experiences, burned covers, and international diplomacy via fists, I found a family. Ethan Hunt became like an older brother. And while the rest of the world sees us as ghosts, criminals, or heroes... for me, this is just life now.

When I lost my parents at nineteen, both of them government operatives, I had no choice but to step up for my ten year old sister, Nora. Arlington, Virginia, wasn’t cheap, and grief didn’t pay bills. So I did what anyone would do when desperate: I became a weapons dealer.

A very good one.

My most frequent client? Solomon Lane. He ran a shadowy operation somewhere in the UK. I never got the name, everything was “classified” but he paid well. Too well, sometimes. And I didn’t ask questions... until one day, I under delivered on purpose. I knew I was being shortchanged, so I held a few weapons back, thinking I could make it up later.

But you don’t short Solomon Lane and live happily ever after.

That night, I came home to a quiet house. Too quiet. I called for Nora. No answer.

Then I walked into the living room.

Lane stood in the center, twelve armed men surrounding him. Nora on the floor, trembling. A gun pointed at her head.

I begged. Offered him everything. Gave up the rest of the weapons. Offered my life.

It wasn’t enough.

He told me I had to learn a lesson.

Then he pulled the trigger.

She died in front of me, and I could do nothing but scream and fall to my knees. Lane and his men walked out of my house like they were leaving a dinner party. I didn’t move for hours.

The next eight months were hell. I spiraled. I got in deep with people I had no business dealing with. I stopped caring whether I lived or died.

And then Ethan Hunt showed up.

He was supposed to kill me. Instead, he offered me a choice. A chance to make things right.

I said yes.

He trained me himself. I passed the IMF field exams with flying colors. And from that moment on, he’s been more than a handler. He’s been the only person who knows all of me and still trusts me.

Which is why it’s so frustrating that I’m stuck in a surveillance van while he’s breaking out of a Russian prison.

“I still don’t get why I’m not in the field,” I muttered, pacing the narrow length of the van for the third time in five minutes.

Benji didn’t even look up from his computer screen. “Because you got slammed into a wall, then punched in the face, then thrown at another wall. Medical protocol says "sit down, be still, and don’t pass out on me.”

“I’ve had worse.” I flopped into the chair next to him, frustrated and sore. “I could at least be backup for something.”

He spared me a glance. “You are backup. Here, in the van. With me. The world’s most charming tech op.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Charming? You mean annoying with a keyboard?”

“Same difference,” he replied smoothly, typing rapidly as he hacked into the Kremlin’s prison grid. The screen flickered to green, ACCESS GRANTED, and the cameras came to life.

I sighed and leaned my elbow on the console. “You know what I could use right now?”

Benji glanced at me, expectant. “Please don’t say a concussion refill.”

“No. Cornettos. Like the ones in London. After that job near Waterloo? The strawberry one you made me try?”

He chuckled under his breath. “I’m more of a mint guy, but yeah. I remember.”

“Well, if we survive this, you owe me one.” I got up and headed toward the door. “Actually, scratch that. I’m going to grab one now.”

He reached out and tugged my sleeve before I could leave. “Nope. You stay. You snack here.”

I sat back down, grumbling dramatically. Benji reached under the console and tossed me a box of mixed chips. I fished out a bag of Fritos.

We settled into a rhythm, Benji unlocking cell doors, me on comms with Jane.

“Alright, check-in. Sewer status?” I asked.

“How do you think? I’m in a sewer,” Jane replied, voice flat with irritation.

Benji winced. “Yikes. Poor Jane.”

I grinned and tossed a Frito into my mouth. “Honestly? I feel better about being in this van now.”

“Glad I could be your consolation prize,” Benji said, opening more cells. The prisoners began filing out. One especially buff guy rubbed his wrists and looked around like it was Christmas morning.

Benji clicked a few more keys. “Let’s make it a party.”

“Diabolical,” I said with mock awe.

“Better than you in a headlock again.”

“I let her get the jump on me.”

“Sure,” Benji said, smirking. “I bet the brick wall you crashed into really bought that.”

I reached for a paper ball and flicked it at his head. He dodged, barely.

We turned our attention back to the monitor just in time to see a guard try to rein in the chaos. Three prisoners pounced.

Benji winced. “Sorry”

I laughed. “That’s what you get when you run a terrible prison.”

Benji opened Ethan’s cell. We both watched with bated breath as Ethan stepped out, moved across the upper tier, then dove gracefully to the level below. Classic Hunt.

Then Benji asked, “You like opera?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Opera. Like, music. Do you like it?”

“I mean… I’ve never really listened to a full one. Why?”

He shrugged. “Just asking.”

“I guess getting dressed up and going to one could be fun. Why, are you planning a date or something?”

He didn’t answer, just smiled at the screen.

Then we ran into a problem.

“Wait… what is he doing?” he asked aloud. Ethan was moving away from the escape route.

Jane came on the comms. “Problem?”

“Oh God, he’s not going to the extraction point!” Benji exclaimed, panicking.

I watched as Ethan marched toward a sealed door—the one that led to all the chaos.

Benji held up his hands. “No. I’m not. I won’t. I am not opening that door!”

Ethan raised his hand in a clear signal: open it.

“Please go to the extraction point,” Benji begged the screen. “I know what that signal means, but I can’t. I’m not authorized!”

Ethan just stared into the camera. Waiting.

Benji folded his arms. “Oh, you’re gonna wait? Fine. I can wait.”

I nearly doubled over laughing. “You two are children.”

Benji turned and stuck his tongue out at me.

Then Ethan raised a fist. The universal signal for don’t test me.

“Okay, fine! FINE!” Benji groaned, slamming the button to open the door.

“There. We’ll just screw the whole thing up on purpose,” he muttered.

Moments later, we watched Ethan head into a still-locked cell.

“What is he doing now?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Benji said, but still opened the door.

We soon saw Ethan dragging a dazed man along behind him. The guy looked like he’d never thrown a punch in his life.

“Uh, we’ve got a passenger,” Benji reported.

And of course, a guard Ethan punched ended up unconscious in the doorway—blocking the exit from closing.

Ethan looked directly at the camera again and shouted, “OPEN ALL OF THEM!”

Benji hit the override, unleashing the entire prison.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” he muttered, eyes flicking between camera feeds.

We held our breath as Ethan and his accidental sidekick dodged fists, ducked shanks, and made a mad dash for the final hallway. Just as a mob closed in, Ethan slipped through the door, and Benji slammed it shut behind him.

We both exhaled like we’d been holding our lungs hostage.

Dean Martin’s smooth voice drifted off as the speakers cut.

“Ain’t that a kick in the head…”

“I need a drink,” Benji muttered.

I looked over at him, trying not to laugh. “Cornettos still on the table?”

He turned to me, exhaustion and adrenaline fading into a grin. “Only if you don’t tell Ethan I almost fainted.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

For now.

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

A/n: This was such a fun chapter to write and hopefully you enjoyed it! I am almost done writing the Dubai scene from this movie and can't wait to post the next chapter!

[benevolentcannibal]

Prefacing this by saying: I’m not a crashout and have never crashed out but sometimes it’s warranted. This being one of those times.

TLDR: @cathiief is a immature loser I have no ill feelings towards but bitch you couldn't mind your own business lmao 🤣

So, I’ve been rp-ing for at least twenty-two years, never really like doing it on tumblr for various reasons; be it making and running a whole new blog, random interactions or cross-over stuff. One of the MAIN reasons I’ve only tried a handful of times is because Tumblr has an EGREGIOUS cliche mentality and it’s the reason for this crash out because I don’t bother anyone, if you’ve ever interacted with me or followed my blog for any amount of time you will know that I keep to myself, never overshare or do this sort of thing. I’m too old for the drama and foolishness that goes on.

That being said, I’m pissed and it takes a LOT to piss me off.

In the last year of rp-ing in the One Piece fandom I’ve had some of the worst experiences in twenty-two years on the internet, let alone rp-ing which is a hobby, for fun, something people forget but come with me and I’ll explain. 

Before One Piece the last time I rp-ed was in the Pacific Rim fandom in 2013, didn’t have a bad experience just drifted away from my blog and I didn’t want to try again until someone that would become my friend reblogged some art I’d done to their rp blog. I didn’t know OP had an active rpc given how long running the series is. Sure it makes sense that it does but I had just finished the Whole Cake Island arch and ended up making an oc like a lot of fans do. This friend rp-ed the siblings and I worked up the nerve to ask them if they wanted to rp. They did, I made a blog and it was fun for months. This post isn’t about that friend. I still talk to them and adore them.  This story is about one (1) person whom I’ve never spoken to and who I believe killed my experience with the OPRPC. We’ll get to her.

So, me and my friend get to talking and we discuss an AU of Sanji staying on Germa because his mutations worked and blah blah I end up making a rp blog for him and we have a blast.  Now, while I was rp-ing with them I saw they favored one particular person, with the number of threads, responses, etc.  Not knowing them for that long I was envious but it didn’t affect our writing or experience. I’m telling you how I felt because as an adult I know it’s silly but a human emotion to feel these things. I’m aware of my feelings and know how to act accordingly. The person this story is about, does not. 

Weeks go on and we’re rp-ing, chatting on discord, having fun and I even start shipping their characters and this person’s character; the character being a Nami. (@cathiief) and yes I’m @ing them because I do not respect them, or care in the slightest. I drew some fanart of Ichiji and Nami, memes because it got me invested in the little stories they had going on. It was fun, it was a part of the experience, I like to make fanart and draw for people I care about. I even gently reached out to the Nami on my Sanji blog at one point to see if they were interested in rp-ing but got no response which is fine. 

Now a few more weeks go by without incident. My friend and I are on discord discussing writing smut of the brothers. Yes, irl incest is bad (it goes without saying obviously) but narrative wise it's a interesting avenue to explore and we're both grown adults. I'm not here to have a proship or anti discussion. My friend makes a small ooc post about how they'll be writing said topic, that it will be under a read more and tagged to be easily ignored. We get to writing and I do the same, content is properly tagged and under a read more. Keep in mind the smut threads are maybe 2% of what we're writing, often posted in the dead of night to be the least intrusive.

A few days go by and I notice the Nami isn't monopolizing my friend's attention with inbox memes or replies. This had been a running thing between them. She would flood my friend with attention, memes, head canon posts, gifsets etc. I asked if they were good because they had been worried about writing the brothers which is why they made the post warning followers. Come to find out the Nami had said that my friend wasn’t giving them enough attention and wanted to end it. I believe they were speaking for a year at that point and had planned end game for the muses, had idk how many threads and exchanged who knows how many dms. All gone overnight. I hear this and feel so awful because beyond the rp hobby it's just a deeply shitty thing to do to someone that's your friend. I didn't pry too deeply on how close they were but my friend was very heartbroken and rightfully upset over her actions. You couldn't speak to them? You didn't value your relationship enough to even say: hey I don't like the thing you're doing and don't want to rp with you anymore or what it brought up in our threads at all. Yes, I know people don't owe you anything, “fictional incest bad”, but as someone you spoke to regularly for a year and considered a friend? Nah, that's just cruel.

We continue rping, the Nami all but a passing fart and eventually I decide to make a new blog to rp Luffy. I'm getting into the swing of rping on Tumblr and want more. My friend has moved on and even made a new side blog for Kaido.

Playing the main character of a series with over 500 named characters I assume there's plenty of fun to be had and quickly start branching out, avoiding the Nami but not blocking her because besides reaching out from my Sanji blog I have not spoken to this person once in my entire life. I'm not the one with the problem, she is and I do nothing to conceal that I'm the same person from the Sanji blog. I don't link them however because Sanji's blog is basically private anyway. 

As I'm looking for mutuals on Luffy I notice that cathiief is affiliated with a lot of blogs. I don't care and follow these blogs intent on interacting or avoid them depending on how they write or which muse they have. 

The following two examples are what happened:

I don't recall if I dmed @embcrs first or sent in a meme but they rp an Ace that survived the summit war. In dms we are getting along really well, throwing ideas back and forth, having a ball. In embcrs rules it says not to interact if you ship the asl brothers together. I don't and never have at this point. In my mind this is fine because I don't ship asl and obviously wouldn't bring up my Sanji blog and have no interest in Sanji interacting with him. We didn't get very far before suddenly I'm blocked. Which is obviously very confusing because we were getting along fine. Tumblr is a bad site and so I thought it might have been an accident, I've been blocked on accident before mid-conversation and the other person has no idea how it happened. Nope, switched to my main and the embcrs mun is vauging about not having any Luffy's to interact with … like ok? Lol. You know what's interesting about this? cathiief and embcrs ship their muses, a little scrolling shows me how again it's end game. 🤔 

I of course assume the Nami was in their ear. Oh, don't rp with cannibal they write incest.

I move on, laughing with my friends about how petty this human has to be. Next I find @chivalryburdened and we get two things started without any issue. It happens again: one moment they're on my dash, the next, gone. I've been blocked again?! This time I hadn't even reached out to the mun. Digging a little further into their blog, guess who've they've been writing smut with and endgame ship with. The same Nami. I don't recall the time between these two incidents but funny how that happened twice right? 

Wrong.

Looking through the OP rp tag I noticed a LOT of promos or post that were there suddenly aren't. People I skipped over for one reason or another, be it I hadn't the time to read their rules yet or didn't want another multi-fandom blog on my dash are gone. Extremely talkative people I've noticed sending others inboxes are gone. 🤔 Switching to my main I see I'm blocked by all of these people without reason and they are all affiliated with the nami. 

Do I have proof she buzzed around in their ear and like sheep they bowed to her word? No. Maybe they didn't like my vibes? Valid and fine whatever. But it's awfully funny how this worked out huh.

You know the cherry on top of all of this? cathiief herself doesn't have my Sanji or Luffy blogs blocked. 😂 Like are you keeping an eye on me to inform your clique? Are you bored? Why are you not minding your God-given business? Aren't you tired? Are you mad? Girl, it was never that deep. I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU from Tom, Dick or Harry. What are you doing LMAO. 

After saying all that you might be wondering why I even wrote this. Hell, I doubt she's going to read this or any of the other people I've @’d in this post will. I wrote this because what IN the world is going on in rpc’s in general. It's a race to the bottom. These same people will wonder why the rpc is dead and no one is reaching out besides the same three people if that. You killed it. You are policing people. You are tattling, in other people's business, throwing away friendships, all for what? To have your nose in the air and squawk about being the most morally good, thought-crime free writer in the whole community? That doesn't get you the gold star you think it does. I wrote this because I needed to vent my frustration.

I'm going to close this out by saying I don't wish @cathiief any ill will or anything really. I never knew you. You're a loser and kinda sad actually. I don't care if you think I'm a bitch or gross or whatever. I'm not here to psychoanalyze you because I don't care about you. I don't respect you. I'm ambivalent about you.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

when I took a month off work I was lowkey worried I'd come back and find everyone had been fine without me and I wasn't needed at all (because being terrible at every previous job I've had did some ✨damage✨ to my self confidence)

but that is not what happened

I have never encountered someone so fucking happy to see me as my boss' wife was on my first day back, her face lit up like it was christmas, she was practically jumping for joy because now that I'm back she doesn't have to do the ops team's fucking timesheets anymore

I have been told by one of the ops guys that my leave of absence had caused a genuine rift in the boss' marriage because his wife hated doing my job so much they were actively fighting about it

to be clear, his wife is lovely, she doesn't usually throw a shit fit about just anything, it was just that my job is just so fucking annoying that she hated every second of it, and that was the most validating shit I have ever experienced in my LIFE

and the reason she was pissed off at my boss/her husband about it is because he's too soft on his crew and doesn't make them all report their hours for the week

which, as you can imagine, makes building their timesheets extremely fucking difficult

it basically turns the whole process into a puzzle that I have to solve using roughly three different sources of information, one of which is the boss himself who isn't always easy to get ahold of when he's on a site

this puzzle is made even more difficult by the fact that a glitch in our form system keeps messing up the dates on the timecards, so I have to cross reference the time cards from the two (2) ops team members, who actually DO fill out their forms, with the roster, but my boss often changes the roster at the last minute without telling me or noting it down, so then I have to cross reference with the reports they have to submit for certain ongoing jobs because they'll have correct dates and also a list of who was present (if they were doing one off smalltime jobs that week I'll have no physical records and will rely entirely on the boss' memory to confirm dates and staff numbers, unless I can get ahold of one of the ops team members themselves and there's only one who will reliably communicate with me but only when he's not currently on a site)

I tried to explain this process to boss' wife before I left and, looking horrified, she asked me 'is there no way to streamline this?' I replied 'this is streamlined'

as far as I'm aware, as long as I've worked there, there has only been a handful of times people were paid incorrectly, and it was because I was not given correct information by the boss, in the time I was gone, his wife told me that she had incorrectly logged several pays because of this broken ass system

so, as you could imagine, my ego is through the fucking roof right now, I am GOOD at this bullshit job, I took an impossible system and made it work, I am playing on hard mode and killing it, in a field I had zero experience in before taking this job other than a natural inclination for organising and scheduling

and to be clear, I love this job, the boss is too soft on his staff but he's a good guy, he makes us all feel valued and appreciated, he paid me above my award rate, he's absurdly accommodating, and I have an insane amount of freedom to do what I want with company files

I may be working with a bullshit system but I can take naps in the office whenever I want and tell my boss off when he's being too soft (one time his wife literally started clapping when I told him off for sending clients their reports before they'd paid for them) and I get to control when I work, and whether I work from home or the office (which is GREAT when my back flares up)

I might not get many hours (only 16 hours per week) because the company is so small and I run out of things to do because I've streamlined everything (boss literally called me TOO EFFICIENT), but he'll give me those 16 even if I spend half of it playing solitaire and watching youtube

so just, yeah, it feels so good to be confident in my work, to feel valued and appreciated and like I'm actually successful at something after being handed dud jobs for years that I wasn't cut out for, and now knowing that what I'm doing is actually genuinely hard but I've been doing it anyway without fail, makes me feel good!

so tldr; taking a month off work taught me I have phenomenal job security because if my boss ever fires me his wife might actually fucking kill him

[ddagent]

I've been really loving your writing! How about C1 for the prompts? I must know what that season 2 AU is. And maybe, if you have the time, D6?

Fanfic Menu Challenge

Aleida Rosales' first day at NASA had been intense. It was the first time she'd stepped foot into JSC since the day her father had been deported. There had been a scheduled field trip during her senior year but she'd called in sick that day; not wanting to see the familiar halls, to see Margo Madison. Aleida had long wondered what returning would feel like. But it had felt...right. She belonged in these halls, had worked her ass off to get a place in these halls. And not only was she now an engineer at NASA but she was working on one of the biggest missions since Jamestown: Apollo-Soyuz. With none other than one of the men who put Alexei Leonov on the moon.

At the end of her first day, Aleida wanted to make sure she said goodbye to Sergei. He had been kind: not pushing her to open up; asking only questions about the work. Always with a smile. But he was nowhere to be found.

In the ops office, she caught Elaine. "Hey, have you seen Sergei?"

Elaine tried her best to hide a smile as she finalised the new ops procedures. "He'll be with Director Madison."

Aleida felt a chunk of ice settle in the pit of her stomach. Why was he with Margo? Was she checking up on her? Did Margo think so little of her that she needed to be babysat? "Are you sure?"

Elaine checked her watch. "Well, it's about seven. He'll be there."

With a nod towards Elaine, Aleida fled the office and went to find Margo's. This would be the third office Margo had had since Aleida had known her. The first was nothing more than a cubicle: dim lighting, a mug full of tootsie rolls and toothpaste. The second had been larger, with a window no less and a couple of chairs. As Director of JSC, Aleida was expecting her office now to take up a whole floor. Maybe there was even a goddamn piano in there. Aleida felt rage build with every footstep, every clench of her hands. She was pissed at Margo for checking up on her. Pissed at Sergei for lying to her. He wasn't her friend. He was her damn babysitter.

As she rounded the corridor, Aleida caught sight of the open office door. Margo's assistant, Emma, had gone home. Light spilled from the open door, as did laughter. She recognised Sergei's laugh: he was incapable of getting through a shift without it. But in the months that she had known Margo, she had never heard that woman laugh.

"You do not think I will look fetching, yes, in a fake moustache and wig?"

Margo laughed again. What the hell? "Sergei, we are not hiding you when the Soviets come. You're with NASA, now. Front and centre."

"A perfect place to be for their snipers."

Through the open door, Aleida watched as Margo jabbed a finger in Sergei's direction. "Don't joke about that. Refill?"

"Please."

Margo stood up, took his empty glass, and went to a small bar by the wall of windows to refill their drinks. Aleida wondered what they were drinking. Vodka, maybe, as Sergei was Russian? Whiskey, brandy? Pepsi? But her speculation was cut off as her eyeline settled on Sergei. He wasn't staring at the artwork on the walls or at the bland carpeting. He was staring, unwatched and unbidden, at Margo Madison. His gaze was soft; his smile playful. Sergei stared, every atom within him yearning, as Margo poured them both another drink. Then, as soon as she turned around, a mask went up and Sergei was laughing and his eyes were harder. Like he'd never been watching her at all.

Margo sat back down and a new topic was introduced. "So, how was your new engineer?"

This was Aleida's moment. This was her time to storm in, to challenge them both. But she was rooted to the spot. Sergei replied and all Aleida could see was the familiar way he addressed Margo, the familiarity between them both. "She was wonderful, as you told me she would be. I am not surprised; you were her mentor."

"Hardly." Margo took a sip. "I knew her for four and half months eight years ago. I may have got her started but everything she is...it's all her." Another drink. "You'll keep an eye on her for me?"

"Margo—"

"—Sergei." He paused. She faltered, then spoke: "Please. You...you know what this means to me." Two drinks were quickly put aside. Sergei took Margo's hand in his. Their eyes met, and for a moment Aleida wondered whether she would watch her former mentor and her new one kiss in a quiet office. But Aleida blinked, and Margo was out of her chair, downing her drink, and putting it on the sideboard. "It's getting late."

"Of course." Sergei reluctantly finished his own drink. "Goodnight, Margo. See you tomorrow."

"Night."

Sergei left Margo's office, pulling the door closed behind him. He muttered words in Russian – Aleida didn't understand, but they seemed to be chastisements, hissing at himself and his behaviour. Sergei raised his head to leave and found Aleida standing in his path. He came to an abrupt stop. No questions about how long she'd been standing there, what she'd heard. Just: "This was a private conversation."

Aleida crossed her arms. "Looked pretty cosy."

"It is not. Director Madison and I...we discuss things. We have known each other a long time." Sergei joined her, sunk his hands into the pockets of his pants. He relaxed the closer he was from the door. "She does not question your capability, Aleida. She means only to make sure that you are well, that you are happy here."

"She could ask me herself."

Sergei smiled, softly, almost to himself. "Ah, but that would require Margo to challenge what has been instilled in her since she was first mentored: that this hallowed place is only for calculations, procedures. Not friendship or...love. She does her best, Aleida." His hand lightly patted her shoulder. "Please, give her space for her best to become better."

Aleida, reluctantly, nodded. Maybe she could give Margo a little leeway. But only a little. The moment she found out that Sergei was making detailed reports about her back to Margo, she'd cut both of them out. It would only dawn on Aleida later, when she understood the true reason behind the seven o'clock meetings, that discussing her work performance was the very last topic of conversation Margo and Sergei wanted to indulge in.

[sungjiii]

Han Jisung — The boy bestfriend you fell in love with.

!DISCLAIMER!

THIS IS FICTIONAL SO DON'T TAKE IT TOO SERIOUSLY

~guys, i'm still doing pt. 2 for "Yang Jeongin — The cutie pie who turned into a slut (because of you)" but i'm excited to reveal this first♡~

_______________________________

genre — romance, toxic relationship.

______________________________________

On your first ever art class, you get to sit with a guy named Han Jisung.

You felt like you were lucky because he was your type and one of the popular jocks.

Jisung caught your eye the moment you came into the classroom.

As he introduced himself, you were too busy looking at his deep brown eyes.

"So what do you think about me?" he suddenly asked.

You gazed so deep into his eyes that he had to repeat the same question ten times.

He finally got your attention. "So ..? What do you think about me when you first saw me?"

You whispered to yourself, "Cute ..." He didn't hear you so he asked you to repeat it. You went to his ear and whispered, "Dumb."

"Oh ok ... uhm, well I think you're really pretty." You blushed. He noticed it but kept silent.

The teacher started the lesson but it's very hard for you to take your eyes off of him.

"Is this love at first sight?" you asked yourself.

The teacher called you. "You, the new student. Come up here and show me how you draw a portrait of your seatmate."

You hesitated, took a long, deep breath and started drawing Jisung.

The teacher was surprised at your drawing and the time management you had, even Jisung's jaw dropped to the floor.

"H-how did you draw Jisung so quickly?" The teacher asked.

You just went back to your seat and whispered into her ear, "The magician never reveals their secret, that stays the same with artists."

You sat down, tried to be quiet but Jisung can't stop complementing you.

Minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months.

It has been 2 months since you knew him. That's when you guys finally claim as BFFs.

You felt happy, yet disappointed. You wanted him to be more than friends.

But for the past couple of weeks, he has been very busy. No idea why but thankfully you found another bestie you could rely on.

Her name was Yeji. She was nice. The only weird thing about her was her actions towards Jisung.

Everytime he passes by, you would pat his head and he pats yours.

But ever since Yeji came into your life, she got closer to Jisung, and Jisung got closer to her.

They knew things about each other that you don't even have a clue about.

Moving forward on a day before Valentine's day, you finally had the guts to ask him face to face, "Hi, Jisung, would you like to be my valentine?"

He nodded. You were confused. Why'd he only nod? But you didn't care about that.

Instead you were focused on getting ready for tomorrow.

You rented an expensive dress, got your makeup ready, and went to sleep extra early.

The next morning, you immediately went to wash your hair, dry it, and wear the dress.

You put your last finishes on your makeup and got ready for Valentine's.

You arrived to school. Immediately brusting out tears. Seeing Yeji all dressed up and getting closer to Jisung's lips are killing you.

Your heart dropped. The moment everybody saw you arrived, it was pin drop silence.

Jisung laughed. "Why are you suddenly so dead ass quiet?"

One of the popular jocks pointed his finger straight to you.

Jisung's face went pale. He cleared his throat, "W-what are you doing here?"

You looked down trying to hide your tears and replied, "I am your valentine stupid. But it looks like you got a new one."

He looked at you like you were his stalker. "SINCE WHEN?!"

"SINCE YESTERDAY! I ASKED YOU IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE MY VALENTINE AND YOU NODDED!"

He gulped. Hard.

"But didn't I tell you that my valentine is Jiji?" He said.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD, NEVER! WHO IS THIS MOTHERFUCKER 'JIJI' ANYWAYS?"

He pointed to Yeji. You felt bad. But mostly furious. You were the one who made friends with him and even opened up to him.

You were hoping for him to give you a nickname. Anything else but your name.

But instead, he gave Yeji a nickname ...

You 'broke up' with him and focused on studies.

~will there be a pt.2? if you want it, just tell me, tysm, ily♡~

[levyfiles]

Hi there! Unfortunately the OP made their post nonrebloggable, but I wanted to thank you for adding that fact check on Watcher vs Try Guys. I'm so tired of seeing everyone shit on them based on bad faith takes and not keeping up to date with the changes they immediately introduced. It wasn't an ideal situation but this constant hate campaign over nothing is starting to grate. So thank you for stepping up! I guess the fact that the post is no longer rebloggable shows the OP was afraid people would agree with you.

It has been such a week. The Try Guys launch happened and my job immediately got more demanding for the rest of the week I only had the most minimal time for fandom and I honestly only had the energy for the more positive aspects like this week's episode of Survival Mode. Anyway, it's Sunday night; I'm geared up for work tomorrow so what I'm gonna do for this post is repost the original post without the OP identified seeing as how they don't want to be held accountable for spreading lies and I'll also repost my reply

1. Watcher didn't call anyone poor. They called $6 affordable and people inferred that from the statement.

2. Watcher did the same. The website isn't region locked where do you get your info?

3. Watchertv will be posting everything they already have on the streamer for free in a YouTube friendly format a month after.

4. They are not and were never removing their backlog. This was a myth started by the variety article.

The misinformation that caused most of this attitude is really so telling. The only thing the try guys did different is watch their old colleagues get harassed, bullied, and reamed across the drama channels on YouTube, delayed their own announcement which was supposed to be not long after Watcher's, adopt rhetoric to make fun of what their colleagues went through, and pivoted the focus of their video to butter up their audience so they forget that people were telling Watcher to lay people off, to fire their cofounder, to go back to making Buzzfeed limited budget crap, to continue to slave over ad specific parameters to get paid when that is the one thing Watcher And the Try Guys are trying to escape.

The concept of "spin" has never been so hilariously in practice. All you guys need is for the video to "feel good" in order to comprehend that two different companies said the exact same thing, are both valid for making the move, and that controlling their content is supposed to be a beautiful thing on this shit plain of a platform.

It just so happens one party didn't spin it right, so people are acting like the endgame isn't meant to be the same on different scales.

@ THE GENERAL PUBLIC: STOP SPREADING MISINFORMATION TO MAKE YOURSELVES FEEL JUSTIFIED FOR HARRASSING THESE CREATORS.

[ashenberry]

[saw a post and this was far to tangential for me to add it as a reblog or reply] this is just me musing about metal gear controls :3

as far as how good metal gear games control i doo think 3 maybe controls the best of the first 3 games but it isn’t by a wide margin. for context for the rest of this post i played each of the master collection games (mg1/2 & mgs1-3) on switch(in handheld with joycons) portable ops & pw with a nintendo pro controller, v w/ mouse and keyboard, and i haven’t personally played through 4.

with mgs1 it is like. very faithfully recreating mg2’s gameplay in 3D and a lot of my complaints do come from the fact that i’m just. playing on a controller it wasn’t made for* + 25 years of perfecting Da Shooter. my grips come from mainly snake sticking his ass on the wall when i don’t want him to and some of the fights realllyy not being designed with the controls in a way that feels cohesive. i think the ocelot fight is bad and stupid why am i trying to hit a guy off screen i cant see. you can’t shoot in first person view mode in this version. 1 does still remain pretty high on my replay list tho it’s been a year even if i played the vr missions recently. it’s a fine base

*looking into it, it looks like the original playstation controller didn’t have sticks. the dualshock DID and was introduced in ‘97, seemingly 11 months before mgs1’s released but my guess is that mgs1 is designed assuming you may not have sticks. that’s what it feels like atleast playing on switch

mgs2 is… it introduces good mechanics that get refined later controls wise but being use to current games certainly isn’t its favor. i believe the original ps2 version has a mechanic on slowly releasing the trigger to not shoot if your in 1st person view mode but that didn’t carry over making Not shooting after you put ur hand on the trigger a bit awkward. generally a lot of the first view mode feels clunky, esp at first and my god is grabbing the guy and taking him over to the retina scanner a pain but in this games defense i don’t think that feels good until peacewalker. other than that i think this game really suffers from turning the radar off so often. it’s the main reason the fixed 3rd person camera works and thus it feels pretty bad when you don’t have it, especially cause again in relation to first person view mode you can’t move when your looking. with your eyes. certainly an evolution of mgs1 controls but i hesitate to really call it an improvement

3 in all versions after substanace we get to control the camera ❤️main thing i remember tho is that cqc in this entry fucking sucks holy shit i did not use that bitch until the volgin fight n the volgin fight fucking sucked bc you needed to throw him down in a specific way and jt would not cooperate !! the punching combo works fine but it’s not reslllyy what makes cqc cqc and every other game basically had the 1-2-3 combo. aside from that this is. only kind of a control thing but i think the lack of the crouch walk introduced in later entries also kind of hurts in retrospect. having that middle stage for half speed and half stealth is Incredible for this game so your not crawling the entire time which is why the 3DS port stays the definitive version babyyyy. oh yeah i would also say i had “sit your ass down you piece of shit stoner” issues with 3 where snake LOVED to stand up. granted i occasionally get this issue in v with venom standing on the table like a cat but it’s nowhere near as often

portable ops made me mad it fell a tier i played it after peacewalker and it’s very clearly po walked so pw could run what do you fucking MEAN i need to press a button to fucking walk the psp HAS A STICK. I KNOW IT DOES BC IN PEACEWALKER YOU JUST MOVE THE STICK LESS TO WALK. anyways clunky ass control scheme

peacewalkerrr ❤️ for a system that only has one stick i think it generally does it’s best in relation to movement and camera and shooting feels decent but i’m also constantly bringing up the wrong menu when i need to switch my weapon or item and they got rid of the pause in this one when your switching items. cqc is also good in this game thank youuu

ground zero’s keybinds feel like they got someone who’s never played a game on a keyboard before and a lot of stuff def needed further refinement (which it got in tpp!) like the fact that when your zoomed in with the scope the movement seems to still be how far you could look not zoomed in which. it’s hard to explain but when your zoomed in you should look left and right slower to account for it or else it is really fast and touchy

and then tpp. the phantom penis. the best these games have ever controlled truly is very fun to play i don’t think i have any real complaints i think it’s funny when venom jumps on the table like a cat.

[realityescapee01]

Wounds and Scratches

Steo | Stiles x Theo

Theo came back to the pack house, bloodied and wounded. He just came back from an undercover op for the pack. He was able to capture a rogue omega.

He was stabbed to his stomach, slashed on his arm and cut on his palm. He took the omega back to Scott for interrogation. Afterwards, Scott gave him an order to patrol the tunnels.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Scott! He's hurt, send someone else!" Stiles had enough.

Theo is hurt and Stiles goes off on it.

Theo snarled, he struggled to get on his feet. He just got slammed to a wall by their enemy. He was in pain but he was still able to distract the enemy enough for Stiles to lay the mountain ash prison around it.

"Good job, guys."

Scott and them went back to the pack house. Stiles watched Theo bend over a bit, holding his tummy and has a pained expression on his bloody face. Dried up blood from his forehead. Busted lips and a sprained ankle.

Stiles thought back at the bad things Theo did to him and the pack. That is why Stiles thought Theo deserves all the beatings he's taking.

Scott decided to take in Theo despite everything he did. Scott being the kind and giving person he is. Stiles was against it. He doesn't want Theo in. But Scott insisted they could use Theo's skills.

What skills? The manipulative skills? The cunning, the smarts, deceptive skills? Well, yeah, those are useful. Stiles begrudgingly admitted.

So here is Theo in their pack. Being used as a scout, a spy, and first liner. Scott always sends him in first, first to whatever danger they're facing.

It's strange to Stiles because Theo wouldn't put up with those, but seeing as Theo was indeed putting up with all of it, maybe, Theo is doing everything to be better now, to be good, to make up to them, to make up for everything he's done.

Stiles heard all about it from Liam. Theo's redemption arc. Stiles wasn't buying it at first but later on, he started to believe too.

Or maybe the courting of Theo is affecting his judgement.

Oh, yeah, Theo is courting Stiles.

For about 2 months now. At first, Stiles is just playing Theo, but things got shitty for him and he genuinely needed Theo's help.

Like when he's jeep broke down. Theo drove him to and from his FBI internship. Every weekend, when he comes home and goes back to the FBI classes.

The long drives gave them a lot of time with each other. And Stiles found himself enjoying those times.

Stiles found himself chatting and calling Theo at nights after classes too. Sometimes while Theo was in tunnel patrol. To discuss and bounce off ideas from his homeworks of cases; murder mysteries and investigations. And Theo gave him very good insights every time.

Maybe because Theo is one little psycho himself that is why he understands how those criminals think. Stiles laughed on the idea. He is like those FBI agents having a serial killer to talk to and consult cases about.

-+-+-+-

Theo calls him, all wounds and injuries healed up. He is driving Stiles home. Stiles jogs to Theo's truck and they go and get drive thru food. Stiles ask if Theo's okay. He looked hurt really bad.

He's got bandage on his hand. Again.

"What happened there?"

"Oh, I got cut. And I keep getting cut there so it's getting harder and harder to heal." -Theo explaining, trying not to put pressure on it too much while driving.

"I'm fine, Stiles."

Stiles have an idea of what happened. Having seen how hard Scott is using Theo out there. Then he received a chat from Scott to remind Theo about his underground tunnel rounds later tonight. Stiles felt irritated. Theo just recovered and now Scott is on him again with the errands.

-Isn't Liam on tunnel patrol tonight?- Stiles replied to Scott.

-I'm taking Liam with us in the talks. Where are you guys now? Will you be here in an hour?-

-Yeah, we're close. Keep Liam on patrol, let's bring Theo in the meeting-

-Why Theo?-

-It's decided. Just wait for us.-

They are to meet with the new group in town. Invite them to join forces or discuss terms on co-existing in Beacon Hills.

Scott met up with Theo and Stiles on the way to meet the werejaguars. They learned they're all female, a small group of 5. The talks start. Stiles let Scott do his thing while he observed.

"... We don't wanna join forces, we do not wanna stay near the Nemeton, which is basically a signal light to all hunters. Just let us be for a few days, I promise we won't cause trouble."

Their leader explained. Scott huddled with Stiles and Theo.

"I don't know about you, but werejaguars are highly aggressive." -Theo muttered.

"I agree." -Stiles nodded, remembering a certain Kate Argent.

"Yeah, I think so too. I will ask them to leave by dawn. Liam and the others can stay here to watch them until then" -Scott relayed the decision to the group leader. There were some friction but Scott brandishing his alpha status made the leader back down.

"Okay... but... we will only leave if he comes with us."

"What?" -Scott didn't expect a request.

"Him."

"No way." -Stiles strongly disagreed.

The group leader was pointing at Theo. "At least give us some protection. A capable mate for me."

Theo just scoffed. "I'm not up for mating."

"That or we stay as long as we like."

"... How about this." -Stiles proposed. "The real reason you're here is because you're all sick. You plan to steal our herb reserve. Preferably tonight because you know our resident doctor wouldn't be home."

The gang leader took a defensive stance.

"Okay, I'll give you a generous amount of 9 herbs and then you leave tonight. No taking Theo with you."

"What if I don't agree?"

"Well... you have to deal with a true alpha." -Stiles turned his head to Scott, who was half shifted by now.

"It was said this place and your pack is sanctuary to all supernatural beings!"

"Not if you threaten to take anyone away." -Scott said with a growl.

The group leader knew there is no way they'd win. "Fine. Get me the herbs."

After Scott's new recruits arrived with the herbs, the werejaguars left. But their leader really likes Theo, and as she passed him by, she said:

"We'll be 2 towns over, if you change your mind." -plus a hand, slowly gliding down Theo's muscular arm.

"I have my eyes set on someone else." -Theo shrugged the leader's hand away from him.

Theo watched the group leave and looked at Stiles. Having a renewed faith on a chance.

A chance that Stiles actually likes him back. With the human getting all no-way-you're-taking-Theo upset a while ago.

After that, Scott still wanted to send Theo on tunnel patrol duty but Stiles said Theo's driving him home even before Scott got the chance to say it. And so Theo drove Stiles home.

"Hey, Theo. If you like, you can stay here. Liam could use the tunnel patrol experience." -Stiles invited him to stay there to avoid the patrol task.

And Theo did. They went up to Stiles' room and Theo acting all strange.

"Hey? What's the matter?" -Stiles just went about the room as normal.

"...This is the first time for me. Here, in your room."

"What?!? You've never been here?" -Stiles remembered all the pack members whose been in his room. And yeah, this is Theo's first time to be here. "Well, there's a first to everything. You never know, you might be coming here more often in the future."

"W-What?" -Theo didn't expect that.

"Nothing! Nothing." -Stiles blushed. He was just being playful, flirty if you will. Because it's true, if he decides to answer Theo, then definitely, Theo would be in his room more often.

Theo was smirking and shaking his head, thinking of a comeback, but that caught him so off guard that he couldn't come up with one.

"Uhm, I'm gonna head to bed. By the way, use this on your wounds." -Stiles threw him a poultice Deaton taught him to make. Something to make the wounds stay clean for a longer time.

Theo caught it and sat on the chair by the window. He took the gauze off his hand and tended to it. He lifted his shirt and applied the poultice to random cuts on his torso.

Stiles just watched him. He memorized all the spots Theo has wounds and scratches and bruises.

"Well, uhm, Theo, I'm tired, I'll go to sleep, stay as long as you like." -Stiles headed to bed.

As he laid down, he smiled to himself on how things turned. Before, he couldn't stand Theo, but now he can sleep in the same room with Theo present.

The next day, Stiles woke up and Theo was gone, left a message of thanks and that he headed to school.

Theo goes to school on weekends, in a special program to make up for the lost time when he was dragged to hell; and once made, he can go back to school to continue his last sem of senior year.

Stiles thought to give Theo a visit.

He finds him on the lacrosse field. Coach Finstock recruited him.

Theo sensed Stiles and looked at his direction. Stiles waved.

"Bilinski!" -Coach Finstock intercepted him. "What are you doing here?"

"I missed you, coach!" - Stiles attempted to give coach a kiss.

"Ugh!" -Coach Finstock stopped him with a hand to his face.

Stiles knew that way, coach would leave him alone. Theo jogged towards him.

"Hey." -Theo in lacrosse practice uniform.

"You joined?" -Stiles sat in the bleachers.

"Yeah." -Theo stood right in front of him.

"I never knew you like sports. Sports aside from hunting and killing."

Theo laughed at that. "Just to release some aggression."

Stiles just nodded. He looked at the other players. He remembered his lacrosse days back then. And that winning shot he got. It was the fun days. Way before the shit hit the fan.

Stiles stayed to watch Theo practice with the team. He decided to stay even after and play with Theo a bit.

"Fine! But make sure you tidy up the things!" -Coach Finstock let them stay.

"Want a serious match or just for fun match, Stiles?"

"Just for fun." -Stiles gripped the lacrosse stick.

"Okay." -Theo smirked and threw the ball right past Stiles' left shoulder and into the goal.

"Ha! For fun, I said! Not for the Olympics or something!"

Theo laughed. They change places. It's now Theo's time to be goalie.

"Theo, no superpowers!" -Stiles was gearing up for a shot.

"Okay."

Stiles kept licking his lips and aiming and aiming for the goal before actually taking the shot. And of course, Theo caught it. Stiles was mad accusing him of using chimera powers but Theo didn't. Stiles is just really not good at it.

"Okay, that's it. I don't wanna play anymore!" -Stiles throwing the stick down.

"I didn't use supernatural powers, Stiles. You're just really bad at it."

"Just- Forget it!" -Stiles waving his hand off.

Stiles waited for Theo in the lockers. He looked at the seat where they confronted Theo. And where he said: "I came back for you." Stiles didn't really know the gravity of those words.

Theo wanted him. From day one. And there he is right now, feeling the same. He wants Theo now.

He turned his attention to the sound from the showers.

Theo is in there. Naked.

Stiles felt a little panic and stepped out of the lockers. A few minutes after, Theo stepped out too.

"Stiles, are you okay? I smelled panic."

"I'm fine. Let's get outta here." -Stiles walked away. Fast. He wanted to answer Theo but Theo is not asking him the question yet.

"Drop me by the tunnel entrance. I'm on patrol." -Theo said, settling in the passenger seat of the jeep.

"Oh. Okay."

"Stiles? Tomorrow, will you go out with me?"

"Oh? Where are you taking me?" -Stiles smiled. Theo courting him, does this quite a lot, take him on dates.

"It's a surprise." -Theo was smiling.

"You know my anxiety, I don't like surprises."

"I know. But you'll love this."

Stiles agreed. And so their date was set.

The following week, Stiles gradually calling out Scott for using Theo too much. Scott took the use and abuse too seriously.

Stiles would lightly tell Scott to give Theo a few minutes or hours before being sent for work again. Sometimes they'd be out, hanging out, and Stiles would tell Scott to let Liam do the patrols. The kid needs that experience somehow.

Their date night arrived. Theo was driving them in his truck when Scott called. An emergency.

Theo sighed. "I guess date night is cancelled."

"Apparently so." -Stiles confirmed as he gestured for Theo to make that U-turn.

They were called towards the Nemeton and they saw Scott and Liam, shifted, chasing after their enemy of the week. The werejaguar leader came back.

"I warned you." -Scott intimidating the werejaguar. "Why are you back?"

"Nothing much... just some petty reason." -she spotted Theo and Stiles running over to them.

Liam lunged at her but missed. She charged towards Stiles and Theo.

Theo was fully prepared to intercept her but she made a sharp and quick turn towards Stiles.

They rolled over the ground. Stiles tried to wrestle her off but to no avail. She pushed Stiles over the cliff.

"Holy sh-" - Stiles couldn't do anything.

He was falling off the cliff. He could only hold his hand up, hoping to be saved.

"Stiles!" -Theo jumped after him.

Theo caught him and held onto exposed vines on the cliff.

"Tch!" -Theo exclaimed as the vine rope burned through the bandage on his hand. And brutally so onto the wound there. Making it bleed again.

They slid for a little bit more before finally getting caught on bigger vines, stopping them from falling.

Back at the top, Scott and Liam were trying the werejaguar to a tree and then hurrying to help Theo and Stiles. Lowering down a rope to get them back up.

"Stiles! Oh man!" -Scott pulled Stiles into a tight hug once the two was saved. "I was so worried!"

"I was too." -Stiles hugged him as tight, looking at Theo, nodding him a thank you.

They subdued the werejaguar leader, and as agreed -Scott will try to talk to the supernatural beings walking into Beacon Hills, with the goal of peace, and when it is not achieved, the hunters will take care of it- Scott called Chris Argent to deal with the werejaguar.

As they were walking, Scott was going on about checking the old werejaguar hideout before calling it a day.

And Scott wanted to send Theo and Liam.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Scott! He's hurt, send someone else!" Stiles went off.

"O-Okay. Me and Liam would go." -Scott conceded. He felt guilty afterwards, he never checked on Theo. And now only saw Theo's hand. "Sorry, Theo."

"Yeah. Apology accepted." -Theo soothing his wounded palm.

They parted ways. Scott and Liam towards the hideout and Stiles and Theo towards Theo's jeep.

Stiles applied poultice on Theo's palm. "Thanks. A lot."

"No problem. As if I would just let you die on me right there. You owe me a date."

"Well... our sched just freed up."

---

And so, they revisited their original schedule for tonight. The date:

"W-What the-" -Stiles was greeted by tiny lights floating in some enclosure far from the reserve. "What is this? I've never... there were no fireflies in Beacon Hills. Ever!"

"There are now." -Theo watched him enjoy the view.

There were so many. Flying, floating, near the trees too... it looked magical.

"Since when? How?" -Stiles wanted to get to the bottom of this.

"I don't know. Must be a Nemeton thing. Again."

Stiles wanted to ask questions again, but the view was so beautiful, he just accepted that explanation. The Nemeton does make and affect all sorts of stuff.

"Stiles? Can I ask the questions now?"

"Sure." -Stiles waved his hand, eyes fixed on the sea of fireflies in front of them.

"Will you... be my mate?"

"..." -Stiles blinked. A lot of times.

"Stiles?" -Theo was concerned.

Stiles looked back at him. The fireflies are near them now, surrounding them. Making Theo have the background of little lights floating.

Beautiful.

"Yes." -Stiles said.

Theo smiled, ear to ear.

"I was waiting for you to ask that." -Stiles revealed.

"I was waiting for you to be sure." -Theo walked slowly towards Stiles.

Reached for Stiles' waist and pulled him into a kiss.

-+-+-+ (complete) +-+-+-

thank you. more on my master list here

I also have an AO3 account

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redbubble shop

zazzle shop

Like the gifs used here? See source under them. Reblog, do not repost. Thank you all gif creators here ♥️

[bambinotattoo]

Erica’s Diaper Plan

Chapter 5

(6 years ago)

((“Come on Karen, is it that bad? Really? So she asks to be changed into a new diaper and likes the process of being little…she doesn’t even understand what she’s doing yet. And, no, we are not enabling her be changing her and babying her a little.”

“I just makes me feel weird, plain and simple. Like I’m, we’re doing stuff to her and with her that’s…fetish related or whatever. I would never forgive myself if she ended up one of those full time littles that piss and shit themselves on the documentaries. Or years later she blames us for sparking her diaper and baby obsession. That’s what I worry about Jim”

“Babe, this is harmless, trust me…she 7, not 12 or 13 spread eagle in front of us sucking on an over sized pacifier. lol. I really think you should calm down.”

“Calm down, says the man who changes her once a month.”

“That’s not fair, I work, your home, and we both agreed it’s probably more appropriate that you diaper her more at these older ages.”

“Yea yea. Whatever. I’m still call Dr. Spetzler and setting up an appointment.”

“Whatever makes you feel better sweetheart, you know I will always support your decisions with her! Especially after all the childhood traumas you endured thanks to you mother”))

(Present) 2:15am Friday morning.

As Karen and Jim look at their daughter’s new room, the air almost vanishes from the ambiance. Their once “fairy” average 13 year olds room is no more. Now, at first glance, you would assume Karen and Jim were fairly new parents.

“What have we done?” Jim said kinda take back by the drastic and obvious changes.

“Exactly what she wanted, exactly. Hell, I copied the description from her message board reply talking about her dream nursery…let’s see how cool and sexy babish really is to her”

Meanwhile, Erica and Sara Beth were serif popcorn, and finishing a scary movie. Every silent or suspenseful part was filled with crinkles as Erica wasn’t used to thick disposable diapers. Even from what she can remember of the Pampers, this was totally new. They weren’t the Little for Big, Rearz, Carasol, she yearned for…but the thick, crinkly Molicares were every thing to her currently.

The two began to drift off, as Elizabeth peaked her head in to see what the state of Erica’s diaper was.

“Hey, Erica, you still awake?”

“Yea, I can’t calm down with this magic cloud tapes to me”

“Okay, well I’m gonna check you real fast…ope, goodness. You’re soaked…follow me and we’ll get you cleaned up. “

“okay, lay down and relax for me”

Erica did just that, closing her eyes and just enjoying the senses and smells of real diapers and being taken care of.

“So, Erica, how does it feel being diapered and changed again? Probably pretty weird right?” Liz was expressing her own discomfort in wiping down a teenagers (that’s not her own) princess parts, because she pissed all over her self. She knew it would get easier, but with Erica seemingly enjoying everything it wasn’t not awkward.

“Are you gonna be okay with Sara Beth helping you out?”

“I mean, I think so…she did diaper me a few times when we were kids!”

“Yea, that’s playing…this is real”

“As long as she’s okay, I’m okay”

Elizabeth finished cleaning her and applied some Oint and powder then closed and taped on her fresh diaper.

“Okay, squirt…all set”

“Thanks Mrs Hawkins, this is too surreal”

All Liz could do was fake a smirk as she knew the changes that were coming to Erica’s world tomorrow, she was so close to the girl she almost broke down and told her…but the truth ways in which she enjoyed these few diaper changes fueled enough estrogen to hang strong, and let Karen give her the awakening she had planned.

Back at the Whites

“Okay, we have the changing thing, the alone thing, the dress thing, the…what are we missing. Damn, let me go look at that damn message board and make sure we’re giving her the “dream diaper punishment administered by my parents”

“Are you sure about all of this too, Karen?”

“SHE LITERALLY TYPED IT OUT AND COMMENTED ABOUT WITH LIKE 20 OTHER DIAPER PEOPLE, Jim”

“I know, I know…it’s just…maybe we’re going a little too far, yea?”

“Too far was actively trying to un potty train herself to trick us into diapers Jim, too far was exchanging fantasies about what she wants us to do to her!!!”

“I just think back to before we met with that shrink, how skeved out you were diapering and etc a 7yo…are you going to be okay, like psychologically being in the private areas of a 13yo?” Jim finally asked

“That was 6 years ago…it’s our only child I was being over protective and paranoid. I literally have receipts from her that this is what she wants! So we’re gonna see how much”

The conversation de escalated and the two finished the final version of Erica’s Diaper Punishment Plan, so that she can read the rules right from her room.

It was late, and the two were exhausted, as they were laying in bed Jim asked one more question:

“So, how long does she have to endure this for? I mean, she gonna have a pretty hard time with a lot of this, probably enjoy another chunk. But still, what’s your end game Karen?”

Karen sat and stared into the dark cool room, pondering the answer her obliviously worried husband…”one month”

She’s gonna know exactly how her biggest “fantasy” feels for one month.

Four houses down, Erica still can’t relax and fall asleep with the crunchy, soft, alien garment attached to her. She has been touching it and rubbing it for hours trying not to disturb poor SB. She couldn’t believe how amazing a diaper change felt, the zingy tang of the diaper rash oint, the innocent soft of baby powder every time she adjusts. She could not help wonder, if she was going to be diapered and changed when she got home tomorrow. She again lost herself in the thought of her Mommy checking her diaper and playfully getting her laid down. Blowing raspberries on her tummy, and using too much baby powder! Oh how she missed/wanted her mother and hers bond to be strong agin. And maybe diapers was it. Just then, she felt a zap of urine shoot into the dry diaper, after remembering this wand a crappy goodnight…she took a deep breathe out and aloud her bladder to void into her now growing warm diaper. That feeling, she thought. That’s the greatest feeling ever.

After finishing her new diaper ritual she decided to get up and write her Mom and Dad a Thankyou letter. Just to accurately convey how much this means to her. (And to hopefully have this sustain for the near future). It was a love letter to diapers, written like a love sick soldier of the first World conflict. She took her time and really found adjectives that would-hold weight to the feeling she had wearing this remarkable, purple, cloud from the heavens of Agarthia.

Erica was pleased with herself, and finally felt relaxed and tired enough to drift off to sleep.

[ladywaffles]

Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, Op. 18

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47442676

T | 1/1 | 2.4k

Ilsa tries to make sense of the world, after being welcomed back into the fold.

or: how the IMF learned (to varying degrees) to trust Ilsa.

Title from Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, Op. 18. I’m particularly fond of Movement II: Adagio sostenuto. Often considered one of the most popular piano concertos of all time, it was used as the score to the 1945 film Brief Encounter, and parts of it inspired Lorne Balfe’s score of Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning, Part One.

After two years at Lane’s side, Ilsa knows she should feel at ease in London. It is her city, her sanctuary; Lane, like her, was MI-6. He didn’t like coming back to London any more than she did, too aware of C’s eyes on him whenever his feet touched British soil.

Ethan Hunt and his IMF team have effectively freed her. Atlee confessed to setting her up; her government has taken her back. She is reinstated, avowed, welcomed back into the fold.

And yet.

She feels eyes on her everywhere she goes. It is hard for her fellow agents to trust the woman they have not seen in months, years. Some of them—the new ones, fresh-faced Oxbridge grads seduced into espionage by the false belief they could be the next Ian Fleming—do not know her as anything but a ghost story. Some of them—the older ones, her former fellow agents, already on edge and inherently distrusting, given that they are the ones who survived where their compatriots did not—still believe the story Atlee fed them: that she is a traitor to her government, her queen, her country, and she has duped them all into believing she is not, a triple agent waiting to strike.

It’s hard to let go of old habits when everyone acts as if nothing’s changed.

London is her city, it is her base. So why does it feel like she hasn’t come in from the cold until she feels familiar eyes watching her and turns to see a flash of green and a muted grin, a hooded figure that looks too much like Ethan Hunt—

And winks at her, staring her dead in the eyes, and before she can blink, her phone is buzzing with a text she knows will be from an unlisted American number with new mission parameters and he’s gone again—

Why does it feel like coming home?

///

Ethan believes her outright.

It’s the rest of them that take time to come around.

Despite the fact that he’s survived nearly three decades in their line of work, Ethan is still an optimist at heart and believes the best of people.

(“You know, he once asked me if I remembered being sweet,” Luther tells her when they’re on a sleeper train. Benji is knocked out in the bunk above her, happily snoring away. “If I could remember that far back. Ethan thinks he’s jaded, but he’s the best of all of us.”

As if I need you to tell me that, she wants to say.

“I know,” she replies instead.)

It should be Benji who opens up to her first—he’s the newest field agent of them, the easiest to dupe, the least experienced. Not to mention their shared country, even if Benji foreswore any allegiance to Her Maj when he took that IMF job.

Then again, she did stun him with a defibrillator. And shoot at him.

Brandt, she knows, will trust her when hell freezes over. Luther loves his gossip, and he coughs it up easily that Brandt was a part of the operation Ethan used to go undercover in Serbia that involved the murder of no less than seven people—and Brandt was the unwitting fool whose visceral reaction was used to sell the fact that Ethan really had gone rogue.

He’s as likely to forgive her for playing the double agent as he is to sprout wings tomorrow and start to fly.

No, it is Luther who comes around next; he too know what it is like to be disavowed by your government. There is no announcement, no balloon. One day, Luther goes from holding her at arms’ length to sharing knowing looks with her over Moroccan tea while Benji and Brandt snipe at each other.

Benji may have fooled Hunley’s polygraph for months, but she’s much better than a polygraph, and Benji’s not trying to hide as much anymore now that the IMF has been reinstated.

He openly adores Ethan, and who can blame him? They’re all here because of Ethan. Ethan is the sun they all revolve around, his gravity pulling them in closer and closer until he’s all that they can see.

It grates on Benji, that Ethan likes her and he can barely stand to be in the same room as her alone. He questions himself and his judgment of her.

But Ethan, endlessly kind and much more observant than she thinks others give him credit for, knows.

She’s not stupid. She knows that part of the reason he treats her the way he does—smiling, body relaxed, posture open—is to show the team, his team, that she is one of them. They can bring her into the fold. He is giving her his own seal of approval the best way he can.

They’re in Manila, backing up another IMF team, when it comes to a head.

Ethan is out doing what Ethan does best, which is to say, running down an agent like an idiot chicken with his head cut off, causing thousands of dollars in property damage as he does, and so it’s just Ilsa and Benji waiting for him at the extraction point.

Benji’s shoulders are hunched towards his ears as he guides Ethan through the winding market streets. A chill runs down her spine, and Ilsa puts her hand in between Benji’s shoulder blades and shoves down, just as a hail of bullets rains through the walls. She puts her body over Benji’s; she can barely hear him yelling directions at Ethan, the automatic rifles pounding through her ears.

She grabs her pistol and waits for a moment, but before she can return fire, a bomb goes off and Benji sighs.

“That’ll be Luther and Brandt. C’mon, we should get going before they come back.” Ilsa lets him help her up.

“Thank you,” Benji says.

“For what?”

“Saving me. I guess Ethan was right.”

She raises an eyebrow, and Benji huffs a laugh as he runs down the stairs to the idling van where Luther and Brandt wait for them.

“I can trust you with my life. Sorry it took so long.”

He slides the door open for her, ever the gentleman.

“I can’t say I blame you,” she says with a wry smile. “But I’m happy you’ve realized that. The feeling is entirely mutual.”

“What’re you yapping about? We’ve got places to go!” Brandt yips from the passenger seat.

“Oh, nothing,” Benji says as he slams the door shut behind him. “Just how I’ve finally confessed my undying love for Ilsa, and we’re going to elope in Vegas the second you turn your backs.”

Ilsa grins, toothy and bright, as Luther hits the gas and they all go flying down the road.

///

Benji is playing barista in the lobby while Ethan tries to break into the building from the roof. It’s been a whirlwind of activity since MI-6 officially “loaned” Ilsa to the IMF. In theory, she still owes her allegiance to Queen Elizabeth and Great Britannia; in practice, Ilsa has made a bubble for herself with Ethan’s merry band of men.

She sits shotgun in the utility van they’ve coopted as their mobile base. Brandt is behind the wheel. He’ll let anyone drive but her.

Ilsa turns off her radio and cuts him off before he can work himself up. “I know you don’t like me,” she says bluntly. “I don’t need you to like me. I don’t care, frankly, if you do. But I do need you to trust me, however little that may be.”

Brandt’s jaw clenches.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he starts. “You’re too good of an agent. To go undercover for two years, limited check-ins, almost no handling…. It’s hard. You sold it to Lane. You sold it to your country. How am I ever supposed to know if what you’re telling me isn’t a lie?”

“You were an analyst,” she says. “Analyze me.”

“That’s not my job on this team,” he grits out. “I don’t get to judge.”

“You’re right, it’s not.”

It’s Ethan’s, goes unsaid between them.

“But you do it anyway,” she states.

His grip tightens on the wheel. For a spy, he’s doing a terrible job of masking his emotions. Then again, he has no reason to hide the fact that she makes him uncomfortable.

“I keep it to myself,” he mutters.

“You don’t have to. I thought that was the whole point of Ethan’s team. Being open with each other. It’s unnerving, I understand. I’m British, the stiff upper lip comes much more naturally. And in our line of work, trust can get you killed.”

Brandt turns to look at her finally, fully engaging in the game of wits they’re playing.

“Lane trusted you.” Ilsa scoffs. “Lane didn’t trust me. He needed my skillset and my access. ”

“Ethan trusts you.”

“Ethan Hunt is a good man. I would never do him harm willingly.”

“And unwillingly?” Brandt asks.

She shifts in her seat, redistributing her weight. She’s starting to lose feeling in her legs. They never do tell you how much of espionage is hurrying up to wait for hours on end.

“There are casualties. But I do not intend for Ethan to ever be one of mine.”

Brandt tilts his head back ever so slightly.

Approval.

“You can’t protect him forever, you know,” Ilsa tells him. “It’s not your job to keep Ethan safe. Ethan is more than capable of doing that himself.

“I let him down once before.”

“And you think he holds that against you? From what I’ve heard, he couldn’t care less about that. You played your part perfectly,” she says.

Ilsa quirks an eyebrow. “Unless… You’re still angry that he played you?”

Brandt looks away. Bullseye.

She wants to laugh, but it would be cruel. “We’re all pawns in the game, Brandt. We use each other and burn each other and leave and do it all again the next day. If you can’t handle that, then why are you still here? It’s messy out here in the field. Go back to your desk, be an analyst again. Do good work from there. ”

“Because I believe,” Brandt says. He reaches over and turns her comms back on, and that ends the conversation.

She understands. It’s as good as she’ll ever get from Brandt. Even the most cynical of agents would fall victim to it, Ilsa thinks to herself.

Ethan Hunt is a force of nature. It’s hard to go back to real life, once you’ve had a taste of him.

///

“I thought you were bad news,” Luther offers. They’re in Miami, fresh off of a flight from the middle of nowhere after thirty-six hours of running down the newest threat to global security. Ethan handed them all hotel room keys and told them to shower, sleep, and eat. Ilsa fell face-first into bed and slept until sundown.

After a shower and a selection of the best street food Little Havana had to offer, she and Luther returned to the hotel bar. They’re sipping daiquiris, watching the night life explode around them.

“I know,” she laughs.

“You remind me of a woman I used to know,” he says. “She was brilliant and smart, and Ethan loved her.”

“He’s too kind for the likes of us,” Ilsa replies.

“I didn’t like you. I didn’t want to. I’ve watched Ethan go down this road before. The last time I had to pull him out of it, I ended up scuba diving in the San Francisco Bay to retrieve an unexploded nuclear ordnance that nearly ended life as we know it.”

Ilsa sips at her daiquiri; the rum is making her cheeks flush. Benji told her this story on one of the long flights they took, crossing from one corner of the world to the next. She knows how it ends.

“I’m flattered that you think that, Luther, but—”

“I’ve known Ethan longer than anyone. Don’t tell me that I’m wrong. I’m not. Ethan doesn’t let people in like he used to. I knew him when we were fresh-faced kids who didn’t know a goddamn thing. So when I tell you that Ethan has kept you here for a reason, I am telling the absolute truth.”

“Of course he needs me,” Ilsa says. “Otherwise you’d only have Brandt left to help keep him and Benji out of trouble, and where would that leave us?” she jokes, smiling easily with the alcohol in her system.

But Luther is stoic. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

“Don’t hurt him,” he says. It’s not an order, more of a request—an entreaty.

“I don’t mean to.”

“And that’s why you will, eventually.”

Ilsa watches the boats on the water, bobbing through the tides. The sails stand out bright against the inky darkness of the night.

“You all love him so much,” Ilsa says. “He can take care of himself.”

“He can,” Luther agrees. “But we care about him enough that he doesn’t have to do it himself.”

///

In her line of work, there is no such thing as personal space. Close quarters are simply an occupational hazard.

Why she’s ended up in the trunk of the getaway car, pressed on top of Ethan as they brace themselves against the walls with every wild turn that Brandt takes, she could not explain.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asks. “I’m not squishing you, am I?”

“Ethan, I’m on top of you. I should be the one asking that question.”

“But I’d never tell if you were,” he says with a toothy grin. “I was married once. I know better than to say anything.”

In the space between breaths, he becomes solemn again. He’s probably seeing his wife’s face.

“Is she safe?” Ilsa asks.

“As safe as she can be, after being married to me,” Ethan answers.

“Not as safe as you’d like her, then.”

He smiles sadly. “If I had my way, I’d know where she was, locked away in a part of my brain that no one else could get to. Just for my own peace of mind, to know that she’s happy and alive. Thriving. That’s all I wanted for her.”

“But you can’t.”

“But I can’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” “Still,” she says. “I’m sorry. Our lives are not easy. But there are people who love you.”

“The best people in the world,” Ethan agrees.

“Doesn’t it ever grate on you? How they hover?”

He shakes his head. “No.” He stares at her. Even in the dark, his eyes are bright. “I understand why they do it. They mean the best, in their own ways.”

Brandt hits a curb, and Ethan’s arms circle her waist, pulling her to his chest to keep her from hitting the top of the trunk.

“Thank you,” she tells him.

She means it.

[lostfirefly]

You’ve Got the Same Dream as Me (Ch.4)

Hello, kiddos! The idea for this fanfic came to me from a dream (again) I had about a month ago. Тhe main characters were Tom Cruise and Henry Cavill (don't ask me why), but with a light hand they have been replaced (sorry, guys). The main action of the dream took place somewhere in the sands. Аlthough this fanfic will feature Sir Crocodile and our beloved Buggy, the action shifts to the desert. No marines, ships etc. Sorry, not sorry :) The devil fruit's abilities are preserved. Catch the Mummy and Indiana Jones vibes :) I have no idea how many chapters there will be. Different titles and names from the original source material will be used to emphasise the general OP's vibe.

Since English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) 

And thank you to my dear @yujo-nishimura and @laurasoretta for believing in me :)

Description: Catherine, a librarian who is searching for the trail of her sister who went missing on an expedition. Notes in books and diaries lead her to Cairo. There she finds a retailer from an artifact shop who, in exchange for selling her a map and equipment, insists that Catherine take her along. They get into a little (or maybe a big) adventure.. 

Warnings: 12+, I think. As always, no smut, angst, violence. Adventures and fun only. Buggy x OC, Sir Crocodile x OC.

Words: 1236

The title is taken from «You've Got the Same Dream as Me» (Sonya Belousova & Giona Ostinelli) (One Piece, Netflix)

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

"A car?" Catherine looked in amazement at the big black jeep. 

"What did you expect?" Buggy asked, leaning back on the bonnet, taking off his striped bandana. 

"Well, I don't know. We’re in Cairo… But.. You got people around town who look like fish. And there's… just a car", she said, glancing at his long blue hair.

"Sorry, cotton candy, my personal flying dragon is at home. I can take you for a ride next time", he replied with a sneer in voice, wrapping his hair into a ponytail.

"Ew, jeez", Catherine pursed her lips.

"If you keep yucking, I'm not taking you with me,. You can go to the nearest rental shop and book yourself a magic carpet if you want". 

"Tell me, were you born to be such an asshole? Or did it come with age?" Catherine drilled Buggy with her eyes. 

"Stop it, both of you. Save your love quarrels for later!" Rika said loudly, locking the shop door shut. "By some completely idiotic irony, we all need to get to the same place. Let's focus on the case. Cathie, get out your maps and records".

"He started it first!"

"I don't care! I'm not going to be your mom or dad. I said, get out your maps and records now! Here's your book by professor Alabasta", Rika put it on the bonnet.

It was a large book, in a brown cover with golden monograms on it. The pages were a little yellowed in places, but fortunately the text was legible.

"Woooow", Catherine whispered and gently ran her hands over the sheets.

"You see?" Rika opened one of Cathrine's diaries and pointed her index finger at one of the entries. "The numbers here and here match. I think that old man Alabasta knew something. I don't know if they point to the location of the treasure or not, maybe it's just one of the dots, but I'm more than sure that this is where we should be heading".

"But if he found treasure, for example, why didn't he take it? Maybe it's not there anymore", Catherine asked, "and why did my sister go there? She and I are both adventurers, but I still don't understand".

"Maybe she didn't go looking for the treasure. Maybe your sister got so tired of your endless whining that she decided to join a caravan and hide from you forever. That's what I would do", Buggy said, leaning between the two girls, glancing briefly at Catherine and putting his hand on her back.

"You're pissing me off already", she whispered.

"Well, I don't know your sister, so her motives are unclear to me, - Rika said, shaking her head, "but I know what I want to find there".

"And what is that?" Catherine asked with surprise.

"It doesn't matter".

"Look, there are several routes", Catherine ran her finger along the lines on the page. "I think we should take the shortest route so we can get there faster. The less time I spend in the car with this clown, the better".

"No, no", Buggy shook his head negatively. "You see, this short cut is guarded by Baroque Works men. We can't make two steps out there. We'd be quickly captured and sent to some underwater prison. Believe me, you won't like it there. We'll take this way", he pointed down the long road, "sorry, you'll have to bear with me".

He started to put the bags in the boot of the car.

"Trust me, you'll be happy to be in those places with me. Because if we meet a man with a hook there, I'll be your best bet for salvation".

"A man with a hook? Have you been drinking since this morning?" Catherine moved closer to his face to test her hunch.

"Where the hell did you come from, cutie biscuit?" he whispered in her ear.

"Loguetown, why are you asking?"

"Oh, just curious. Alright. Hop in, girls. Rika. And my cotton candy", he said with a wink, getting into the car.

"Stop calling me that!"

⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭

The journey to the coordinates indicated on the map took about two hours. The car stopped somewhere in the middle of a hot desert. There was only a small building, which looked more like an old barracks.

"Well, where are we? You said you could read maps", Catherine got out of the car and looked around, "I thought we'd be in the right place on time".

"Can you stop nagging, I'm getting a headache", Buggy said, looking for something in the boot of the car.

"Don't tell me what to do and what not to do. You're the one who brought us here", Catherine walked briskly over to Buggy. "Fuck, if I'd known you didn't know anything, I wouldn't have messed with you in life".

"Listen, pie", Buggy grabbed her arm and hissed, glaring at her with his green eyes. "I'm sick of your hysterics. If you don't stop acting like this, I'm gonna leave you here in the middle of the desert to be eaten by the local sand creatures. And drive back. Believe me, I'd rather be in a bar than stuck here with you right now".

Catherine felt his warm hand squeeze her arm with force.

"Okay, people, break", Rika said, getting closer to them. "According to the coordinates, we're in the right spot now. Catherine, anticipating your question, no, we're not at the final point of our journey yet. While you two were arguing the whole way, I was trying to get a good look at the map. But it was difficult, with your love dialogues distracting my attention".

Catherine rolled her eyes.

"And? What's next?" she asked.

"We should go into that building over there. There must be something important in there, since it's marked on the map. It looks like a shop or a small hotel. I don't know. At least it's on the map and in the diaries. You see it?" Rika pointed her finger in the notebook.

Catherine noticed Buggy re-hiding a small black, oddly shaped box.

"What's that in there?" she asked, placing her hand gently on his back, peering over his shoulder.

"It's nothing special".

"Okay… We'll go to that building then, see what I can find out".

Catherine took two steps forward and stopped. She turned round and was about to take half a step back.

"Buggy…"

"What?" he sounded annoyed.

"I'm s... You know. Never mind".

Catherine and Rika walked into a small building together. Inside, there were shelves with some bags of herbs and jars of oddly coloured water. The place smelled of coriander and lavender for some reason.

"What can I do for you, young girls?" a hoarse voice came from the corner of the room. A grown big-boned man with a grey beard and long grey hair sat in a chair.

"Good afternoon, sir. We seem to be a little lost. We need to go to the Sab...", Catherine didn't have time to finish her sentence because Rika stepped on her foot, silencing her.

"Rayleigh, I bet they're going there for the same reason I am", a low voice came from the front door.

"Sab... what? The Sabaody Desert? Why would you want to go there?

" the man asked, rising from his chair.

The tall man slowly began to approach the counter.

"Well, lassies, tell me what you're looking for there?", he asked, placing both hands on the table.

Catherine whispered in Rika's ear.

"Do you see that too? Does he have a… a hook instead of a hand?"

[jmagnabo92]

I started off so pissed at this post until I got to the Harry Potter Defense Squad Replies - fuck yeah, Team, defend our boy he deserves better than this.

Just to recap - OP basically shamed a 12 year old boy for not offering to buy a 9 person family their schoolbooks because they had to rescue him (literally break him out of his own home, where he was abused and would have starved to death had they not done that).

BUT who the fuck expects a CHILD to take care of a family that he didn't create???

Like seriously, I like the Weasleys but it would be fucking shitty as hell to take money from an abused, child orphan. When you have 2 grown adults (and 2 adult sons at this point) that can and should be providing for their family. Because let's face it, you are responsible for your own choices, if they couldn't afford it, they should

a) take one of Arthur's offered promotions (this gets mentioned as he rejects them because he likes his job)

b) have Molly get a job (since Ginny would be old enough to go to a friend's or something and of course is off to Hogwarts this year) and / or

C) if you're really hard up asking your adult sons (the ones that you raised) to help you. I'm sure they would.

There's also a few facts people always ignore - a) Harry doesn't have the luxury of support from anyone if he runs out of money before he gets a job. He literally needs to keep his vault and the money to get him through the next 6 years. If he runs out, he has no one to turn to.

B) Harry absolutely would share if he could but the Weasleys are good people and would never accept it.

C) in fact, Harry actually gives Ginny his Lockhart books, he gives the twins his winnings, and he tries to buy things for Ron multiple times (which is refused).

D) if the Weasleys were that hard up, they could just share the Lockhart books, plus the next summer while Harry (who literally saved their daughters life) is back suffering with the Durselys to the point of running away, they go on vacation- this tells me that they have a good enough handle on their money that they DONT need to take from an orphan.

I'm sure there's more things I can add, like them living off of Sirius in OOTP and the fact that they support him for only a month in book 2 (when this post is taking place) and that hardly impacted them given how much food they have and their ability to duplicate it. It's not as if they had to BUY more just for Harry. There's also the fact that I can't remember but isn't it George that says thus, not Molly?

Anyways, my point is - you're an asshole if you think an abused, 12 year old child orphan should be paying for grown adults' choices and Harry deserves better than people thinking that a 12 year old should even offer. Also the Weasleys would be assholes if they did.

Whew that was long but Harry deserved a defense (that I wanted to add to).

I vividly remember the scene in like the second movie where the Weasleys were looking at their school supply list and Molly was like “I really don’t know how we’re going to afford it this year” after they had just risked life and limb to rescue Harry and Harry was sitting there eating their food like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[chrisodonline]

Finale Spec/Wishes, pt. 2

For an explanation of what exactly this is, you can visit part one. Again, not really formatted because who has time? It’s really more like I’m recapping or liveblogging my brain.

This is part 2 of ?? (To think. I thought this would just be one post. LOLZ.)

Kensi and Deeks make their way to the bullpen. They notice Callen’s back. They welcome him back, and both seem a little off and distant. Sam asks if they’re okay, and they quickly reply that they are. They were just talking about some plans they were making, working through logistics, etc.

Callen tells them, “Well, just be sure not to make plans for the first full week of next month.” They both look surprised, “Well, actually, we’re not sure when we’ll be able to go through on these plans. So first week of next month is kind of up in the air.” Callen looks disappointed. “Oh. I was just talking to Sam about moving the wedding date up.” Deeks, “First off, you know the way you said that it makes it sound like you and Sam are getting married. Second, are you sure you want to move it up? Not that you should scheduled around us, but our next month or month and a half may be busy. Or not.” Sam asks what’s going on. Kensi and Deeks both say, “Just some personal stuff.” No one prods them further. Callen, “Um, let me talk to Anna.” He pulls out his phone and goes to walk off when Kilbride appears on the stairs. 

Kilbride bellows, “Agent Callen. My office now. The rest of you, get to Ops. There’s a case.”  Callen asks if he can make a phone call real quick. Kilbride quickly comes back with, “Unless that phone call is 9-1-1 because you are in the middle of a medical emergency, I would advise you not to make me wait and get to my office right now.”

Callen reaches Kilbride’s office. Kilbride invites him to sit down. Callen’s face says he’s registering this as big. Kilbride explains that his son has recently been diagnosed with a serious medical issue, and he plans to go and spend time with him — help take care of him — to just try and make up for some things. Callen says he’s sorry to hear that Kilbride’s son is sick, but Kilbride assures him that the prognosis is actually very good, but he’s overdue to be a caregiver. Hopefully even when his son is better, they can still stay connected. 

Kilbride says, “Obviously, I won’t be able to be here.” Callen nods. “You’re taking a leave of absence?” Kilbride explains, “Yes, a permanent one.” Callen is definitely registering this. Kilbride out. No sign of Hetty. Who would they send? Kilbride says, “I had a very long conversation with Director Vance. He doesn’t usually ask someone something again if they’ve said No once because it looks like begging. However, since your last no was over 10 years ago, he’s willing to give you another chance.”

Callen is surprised. “Director Vance wants to offer the job to me?” Kilbride nods. “I believe that’s what I just said.” “I guess I’m surprised you didn’t try to talk him into somebody else…Unless you did?” Kilbride just stares at Callen. “I’m the one who brought your name up.” This surprises Callen even more. Kilbride continues, “I know we haven’t always agreed on things, and I would personally like weekly therapy to be a contingency for you in this job offer, but that part isn’t my decision to make. You realize you would’ve been gone a long time ago if I wanted you gone. I think this team can be better. I think the spirit of Hetty will always linger over, and that isn’t completely horrible. But I also can’t have Hetty 2.0. The higher brass doesn’t want that either. I only ever wanted you to see that Hetty wasn’t always right, and you can’t run this place as if she were.”

Callen nods. “When do you need a decision?” Kilbride explains, “I understand you would want to take a day.” Callen nods again. Kilbride adds, “This may not be field work, but don’t think you’re just pushing papers all day. Steadier workdays, though.” Callen says, “You’re not exactly selling me on it.” Kilbride finishes, “I didn’t tell you about my son for pity. I don’t want teddy bears with balloons, or fruit baskets, or some special message on TikTok. I want to remind you to think about the next 5, 10, 15 years. Things are going to be a lot different when you have someone waiting at home for you.” Callen notes, “I’ve had someone waiting for a while now.” Kilbride buttons with, “When you make a vow, though, it’s different. We’re taught to be honorable. Nothing less honorable than a broken promise.”

In Ops:

Case stuff. Nothing difficult. Y’all know it’s gotta be solved in like 15-20 minutes of screen time. I don’t know. Some high ranking official is beside himself because someone stole his prized chicken. (Do you know how much eggs are these days? Talk about a High Value Target!) Let’s make that the placeholder.

Anyway, Callen enters, and they catch him up briefly. Callen nods and says, “Okay, we should go talk to some people. Do we like anybody for this?” Deeks asks if they can list Wiley E. Coyote as a suspect. Callen explains that they cannot. Deeks ask if they can list a general coyote as a suspect. Callen agrees that’s a possibility, but they wouldn’t be working this case if the TPTB didn’t think it was relevant or a case with merit. (LOL.) Everyone else is kind of suspicious of this number that has called the high ranking person a dozen times in a week, but doesn’t appear to be a main contact. Someone new and aggressive if you go by call logs alone. They checked the number, and it belongs to a lady who has a booth at the farmer’s market. Highly sus. Callen sends Kensi and Deeks to interview Farmer’s Market lady. Fatima and Rountree are supposed to go look at the crime scene. Callen says he and Sam will stay back. Everyone looks a little surprised by this, but they all go their ways.

Sam looks at Callen, also a little confused. Callen never volunteers for Ops. Callen just looks at him and says they need to talk. Callen grabs an ear piece and tablet then asks Sam to step just outside the door. It’s a private conversation, but he’ll hold onto the devices in case they go off and need to be addressed. Callen tells Sam Kilbride offered him the job. “And I wanted to get your opinion on—“ Sam cuts him off. He tells G flat out, it’s time he took it. Think about Anna. Just because he takes the job it doesn’t magically mean he thinks Hetty is never coming back. It just means he’s ready. They can do what they planned. He would be ridiculous not to take it. Callen says, “Actually, I wanted you to be the first person to know that I said Yes. But good to know you agree.” Sam excitedly says, “You said yes? You really did? The job. The office. The meetings. The bureaucracy. Everything?” “I didn’t say yes to the office. I don’t want that thing. I plan to talk to Vance about turning it into a Conference Room. Apparently the main HQ has one. Somewhere. We probably should, too. I figured I’d work downstairs or in Ops when needed. Closer to the team.” Sam asks what Callen needed his opinion on then. Callen says, “Don’t take it the wrong way. I was going to ask Kensi to be team leader. I just think —“ Sam interrupts, “She’s more than earned it. It’ll be a pay bump for her, which is good for her family. I’m happy to back her up. I won’t be here forever. Besides, my dad’s going to need more and more care. It makes sense, since I might need even more time off.” Callen notes that Sam’s new boss is pretty understanding about those things. “‘My new boss.’ I think you liked saying that a little too much.” Callen just smirks. Sam adds on, “You know what I just realized? You’re going to have to wear a suit every day.” Callen looks annoyed. “Don’t worry. We can go shopping. And I promised I’d introduce you to my tailor.”

The other partners are doing the investigation thing. We see Kensi and Deeks talking, and Deeks admits he’s more than just looked at job openings. He’s made actual calls. Put feelers out. Someone might be calling soon. He asks if Kensi is still in. She says she is. He points out she may have her own contacts that could help. They should think of specific questions and positions to talk to people about.  Fatima and Rountree are at the crime scene, looking for any extra clues. They’re in the chicken coop, which for some reason is decorated like a castle. “This guy really loved his chicken.” Fatima points out, “He did name her Good Queen Bess.” They talk about why a chicken could be so important, and why its loss would be a matter of national security. They are at a loss. “Do you think it’s just a case of someone getting more eccentric when they’re older?” Rountree, “I don’t know. Why? Are you worried you’ll become eccentric?” Fatima shrugs and says maybe. Rountree says, “I’m imagining Old Lady Fatima now.” “Stop!” “She has cars she never drives but she loves dressing them up like animals. She has a cat car, and a dog car, and—“ “Oh, well how about Old Man Tree? He likes to keep the wrong holiday decorations up just to make a point. [imitating old craggy voice] It’s the principle of the thing!”  High Ranking Chicken guy walks up. They pull themselves together. And ask if he could think of anything from the last week or so that might help, even if it just seemed odd at the time. Anything could be something. He says, “No, not really.” Beat. “Wait, there was something.” He shares something that sounds pretty dang important, and Fatima and Rountree look at each other to let us know it’s super important. Whatever it is. I can’t think of everything here.