#see ya later space cowboy.

[underude]

ALRIGHT , LET'S DO THIS ONE LAST TIME ...

as of August 1st , Spider-Man Day , 2024: this blog @underude is officially RETIRED.

shocking , i know. it's been 'retired' for a number of months ( like a full calendar year ) but !! we're considering this the official last stop for this particular train.

THAT SAID !!

as it's Spider-Man Day ( like the last five minutes of it as i write this ) , i've also made the choice to start anew. we needed a refresh and this is how we do it. i'm super excited to jump back in with a fresh pair of eyes and see where this new ride takes us all.

the new blog is @pcrkerluck !!! can't wait to re-introduce myself over there.

hope to see you guys soon. much love , and one last 'thank you' for your patience. - Limit.

[olgipolgi]

Dion Lesage ⚜️

[spiderfreedom]

when you get trolled by a Christian memer, it’s Time to Log Off

[milfmarine]

I GOT MY SANA BIRTHDAY MERCH!!!!! AAA THE BLANKET IS SO SOFT!!!!!!!

[mythicalmisery]

Bull Rider AU: GhostxSoap

Bull rider Ghost and clueless Soap who doesn’t know the hat rule. 

Soap had a stupid smile on his face as he picked up a discarded, black cowboy hat and put it on his head while turning to Gaz. They had been heading back to their seats after a quick snack break when Soap had spotted it, unable to help himself. 

 “Ye think I can pull it off?” he asked grinning, completely unaware of the hulking figure that had appeared at his back only moments later. 

Soap froze at the deep, yet still whispered, “Don’t think that belongs to ya, mate,” spoken right beside his ear. He could feel the other’s hot breath on his skin.

His eyes went wide, pleading, as he looked at Gaz for a lifeline. His friend had the same expression reflecting back at him, unsure what to do either. Without any help from Gaz  Soap turned around.

His eyes met a broad chest clasped in a black leather vest, decorated with various patches of brands and sponsors he had never heard of. He slowly lifted his gaze to the man’s face, or at least what was showing of it. The lower half was covered in a black bandana with a skull design painted onto it.

It was real dusty and the man was clearly one of the riders competing, so Soap didn’t think twice about it. Hell, he wished he had one right now to hide his own embarrassment that was surely written all over his face.

The only thing he could make out underneath the stadium lights were amber eyes and blond lashes that matched his mop of sweat-clumped hair that stuck to his forehead. Those eyes that pinned Soap to where he stood and felt like burning flames licking at his skin.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice coming out dry and crackly despite his efforts. “Sorry mate, didn’t mean to offend anyone,” he tossed out in an attempt of easement.

He grabbed the hat off his head, stretching out his hand and offering it back to its rightful owner. The man didn’t remove his gaze from Soap once as he took his hat back. 

Soap was all too aware he had been holding his breath during the whole interaction. He was hoping the man wasn’t offended by Soap touching his property. A fight was the last thing he needed right now, especially three beers into his night. His internal panicking was interrupted by the stranger’s gruff voice.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell ya not to go ‘round touching things that don’t belong to ya?” Soap took a reflexive step back when the man took a step forward. 

He could still see Gaz out of the corner of his eye, which helped a little knowing he wasn’t alone if things went to shite. Although, he would feel really bad if he made Gaz get into an altercation and ruin their night out due to him being an idiot. 

Soap laughed nervously. “Always seemed to have a problem with authority and rules.”

That had the other raising a brow. “That right?”

There were alarm bells ringing in Soap’s head. The adrenaline pumping through his veins should have been warning enough but he never claimed to be smart. The man glanced over Soap top to bottom, as if he was assessing him. The undivided attention had goosebumps breaking out over Soap’s skin. 

He leaned in closer, invading the already non existent space between them. 

“Do ya know what the hat rule is, mate?” he asked with a smirk, like he already knew Soap didn’t.

“Uh, n-no.” Soap felt like a bumbling idiot. 

The man simply nodded at the answer he was already expecting. He lowered himself until he was looking over Soap’s left shoulder, speaking directly into his ear.

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” 

Soap could feel the heat flood his face like a dam opening. 

Oh fuck.

It was as if Soap’s mind, mouth, and pretty much whole body went offline. He couldn’t seem to get anything to work after the other man’s words had registered. Well, except maybe one body part, that seemed to be working just fine.

After standing frozen like an idiot once again for too long, he somehow managed to stoke the last dying embers of a functioning brain cell and took control over his body once again.

With a nervous laugh he took a staggered step back, his arms outstretched in a placating way. The man wasn’t angry, but fucking hell was he intimidating and Soap needed some space to breath especially after that comment. 

“Oh, well that’s.. uh.. ye know, we really should be getting back to our seats,” he spewed out while grabbing Gaz by the shoulder. Soap didn’t wait for the man to say anything else, leaving him to stand and watch as he scurried away like a coward. 

He made a beeline for their section in the stands, subtly adjusting his now uncomfortably tight pants. He glared at Gaz when he made a comment at his flustered appearance, doing his best to block out his incessant teasing. He felt like he was fifteen years old again, popping boners when the wind blew just a little too strongly.

The announcer came back on over the intercom speakers, introducing the next round of riders as they finally reached their seats. Soap did his best to try and focus on the riders in the dirt down below, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of that man’s breath on his neck, the way his voice was that deep even at a whisper, the way his eyes made his skin feel like it was lit aflame.

And as if God was playing a cruel trick on him, his gaze was drawn to the rider getting ready to mount the bull in queue. It was him. 

He couldn’t make out too many details from this far up, but he was able to spot that familiar mask on the jumbo screen hanging in the center of the arena. The man had his hat on this time. The same hat that Soap had just been wearing. He couldn’t deny it, the man looked good in it. 

The announcer chimed in, getting the crowd going. Gaz leaned over, hitting Soap’s shoulder as he whispered, “There’s your man.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth at his friend’s words. Soap glanced back up to the screen, eyes scanning until he found what he was looking for in big, bold letters. 

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

Simon. Fuck. Even his name was hot. 

He looked back down to the roping box, the bull that - Simon? Ghost? - was about to ride. It was fucking massive. He could see it already bucking and ramming the sides of the fence from up in the stands and on the screen, clearly pissed off. 

The anticipation in the arena was electric, the crowd buzzing with excitement as Ghost settled himself on the bull. While the men around him steadied him with their hands,  Soap’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t even know the man but his stomach was twisting into knots. 

He watched as Ghost adjusted his grip on the bull rope and flexed his hand, his muscles tensing under the strain displayed on the big screen.

Soap’s breath stuttered as the gate flew open, the bull exploding out into the arena twisting and bucking with raw power. Ghost moved with fluid precision; the man’s arm raised into the air, his waist snapping back and forth in perfect sync with the bull’s wild movements. Soap couldn’t tear his eyes away, completely captivated by the sight.

The crowd roared around him, cheering and shouting their encouragement as Ghost held on. Soap found himself leaning forward in his seat, his breath caught in his lungs. He silently willed Simon to stay on just a few seconds longer.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the ride. Ghost leaped off the bull, landing as gracefully as one could while running from a crazed animal with horns. Soap’s heart was still pounding as he watched Ghost run back toward the gate, somehow still maintaining his casual demeanor as he climbed over. 

He watched as the rider disappeared behind the gate and out of sight. Gaz elbowed him playfully, a knowing grin on his face. “Go congratulate your cowboy, he just one first place,” he said, his voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

Soap whipped his head to the scoreboard, eyes scanning before he saw Ghost’s name jump to the top as his points were entered. He couldn’t help the stupid smile spreading across his face. 

“Ye sure you’ll be alright?” he asked, already standing up. Gaz scoffed, “Get the fuck outta here Soap.”

Soap put his hands together in a mock prayer. “Thank you, Garrick.”

He turned around and nearly sprinted down the stairs, cursing the crowds blocking his way. He had to make it down there before the rider left.

Soap finally managed to make it down to the ground floor, booking it to the area cornered off for the riders and their crew. He got farther than he thought he would before security stopped him, asking for his pass that he clearly didn’t have. 

He tried a handful of excuses but there wasn’t any reasoning with the man. He was about to ask if he could at least pass on a message for him before he felt someone brush up against his back. 

“He’s with me.” 

Soap swallowed. That low, gravelly voice back in his ear. Right where he wanted it.

The security guard stood there a moment before he nodded at Ghost and walked away, as if Soap wasn’t even there. 

It took a herculean effort for Soap to turn around. He was very close to losing his nerve and chickening out of this whole ordeal. Hell, he didn’t know this man. What was he doing? 

“Now, what are ya doing all the way over here. Breaking more of those rules, I see,” he said forcing Soap to take a step backwards. 

Soap cleared his throat, voice coming out surprisingly steady. “Well, I figured I would congratulate the winner.”

“That so?” he asked with a tilt to his head.

Soap took a step forward in a random burst of boldness. Now or never. 

“Aye, I also think I owe ye a debt,” he punctuated by grabbing the hat off the man’s head and placing it upon his own.

Soap wasn’t sure if it was the passing headlights from the sea of cars and trailers behind them, but he swore Ghost’s eyes flashed at his words. He leaned down in a mirror image of their earlier interaction, a strained “Follow me,” was spoken in his ear.

Soap let out a deep breath as he watched the man walk away. Not ashamed to admit he enjoyed watching him as he did so. Fuck. This was happening. 

They walked through a dirt and gravel lot off to the side of the arena. Soap observed the ranchers loading the livestock back into trailers under the parking lot lights as they passed through.

They ended up on the outer edge of the lot, the closest light post was a few cars down so it wasn’t overly bright where they were. Soap nearly missed it when Ghost turned a corner around a large parked trailer. 

He followed suit, unable to stop the embarrassing yelp that left his mouth as he was thrown against the side of said trailer. All thoughts of cursing the man out disappeared when Ghost’s lips were crashing against his. The initial impact had him grunting, the sounds immediately swallowed by Ghost’s domineering mouth. 

Soap couldn’t breathe, and normally he wouldn’t have any complaints about the matter given the situation, but he was starting to get lightheaded. He reached his hands up, gripping onto that leather vest and regretfully pushed the man off of him. He gasped at the separation, greedily filling his lungs at the first opportunity.

“Air, air is good,” he wheezed out.

The bastard huffed a laughed right in Soap’s face. Between the night sky and Soap’s racing mind, he hadn’t quite registered that Ghost had taken off the bandana from earlier. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, just barely making out the details of the face currently six inches from his own. 

He was fucking beautiful. 

Soap didn’t need sunlight to come to that conclusion. He had strong features; a Roman nose that had clearly been broken one too many times and never healed quite right, full lips that had a small scar running across the bottom as if it had been split in a fist fight and never got the proper stitches. He had another scar going from his chin to his neck, the moonlight illuminating the silvery healed skin that was no doubt part of an impressive collection. 

Soap couldn’t help the heat rushing to his face when he realized how blatantly he’d been checking out the other man. To his credit, Ghost just stood there; not saying a word while letting him have his fill. 

His attention drifted back to reality when a wave of lights and shadows danced across their faces as a car drove by. Soap unconsciously grabbed onto Ghost’s vest, pulling him onto himself while trying to melt into the trailer out of fear of getting caught. 

“Relax,” Ghost whispered. 

His mouth moved down to Soap’s jaw, kissing his way across his flushed skin until he reached his ear. Soap couldn’t help the full body shutter that racked through him as the man licked up the shell of his ear before biting down on the tender cartilage.

He turned his face slightly to the right in a poor attempt at stifling his moan in Ghost’s shoulder as the other slotted his knee right between his legs. 

Fuck. He hadn’t realized just how hard he was before Ghost started grinding against him.

The friction was almost unbearable, just the right amount of pain to still be pleasurable but still not enough. “More,” he groaned out. All reservations about sounding too desperate were out the door, he needed this man. Now.

Ghost turned his head to stare directly at Soap with a smirk plastered on that stupidly handsome face. 

“Needy little thing, aren’t ya?” he teased. 

He didn’t even give Soap time to defend himself before he was reaching down to undo his belt buckle and slide his hand down Soap’s boxers. 

“Fuuuck,” Soap hissed out as Ghost gripped his cock with those rough and calloused hands. Every twist of the man’s wrist had a jolt of pleasure shooting up Soap’s spine. His hand had felt like a branding iron, scorching to the touch and Soap had no complaints over the claim.

He was full on panting now. The only air he could manage to get was what Ghost allowed him when his lips granted reprieve. 

Soap was gradually nearing his breaking point. He normally would have been embarrassed for not lasting longer, but he decided to give himself a break when he’d been sporting a semi nearly the entire second half of the event. No thanks to the bastard who currently had his tongue shoved down his throat. 

Soap hadn’t even realized the involuntary bucking of his hips, his body’s feeble attempt to get off. The shallow thrusts got quicker, insinuating his building release. Just as Soap was about to reach that blissful moment he had been craving all night, Ghost snatched his hand away and removed them from Soap’s pants entirely.

“Oh, you fuckin’ bastard,” Soap spat out at the other man. 

Ghost stood straight before clicking his tongue. “We have a debt that needs paid now don’t we, darling?” he cooed at Soap who did his best to not let the pet name affect him too much.

Soap groaned in frustration. “Then hurry the fuck up cause I’m not gonna last much longer, ya fucker,” he growled out.

Ghost shook his head at him. “Ya sure do have a mouth on ya,” he stated.

“Aye, ye can do something about it next time.” Soap didn’t really care that he just left an opening for this to occur again, mind too preoccupied on the fact his balls felt like they were about to explode. 

Ghost had that smug look back on face as he reached into his pocket for something. He pulled out a set of black keys and pressed a button, the black truck behind him flashing its lights twice before he put them back. 

“Are ye kidding me? Your car was here the whole time?,” Soap whined. 

“Sounds an awful lot like complaining, mate. Not a fan of being watched, are ya?” Ghost taunted. The way he talked to Soap like he was a child was some fucked up mix of extremely hot and infuriating. 

Soap glared at the man. “Get the fuck in the back seat. Now.” 

Despite Ghost narrowing his eyes, Soap didn’t leave any room for argument and the other man complied with no further complaints. 

Ghost climbed into the back of the truck, spreading out across the seats with his hands resting behind his head as he looked at Soap. Well, didn’t he just look like the cat who got the cream. 

God, he was fucking hot.

Soap climbed in after him without another word. With the door closed, the lights in the truck went out and the space was filled with darkness once again. Soap was straddling the man’s massive thighs, nearly hanging off the edge. It was cramped, barely any room to move but he would make it work. Had to make it work. 

“Just gonna sit there and look pretty, darling?,” Ghost snarked, breaking the silence. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Soap replied with no real heat. He reached out to undo Ghost’s belt, hoping the way his throat bobbed at the clear outline in the man’s pants wasn’t visible in the moonlight. Good lord he was massive. That earlier apprehension started to slowly creep back in and wash away his false confidence. 

Ghost made another one of those clicking sounds with his tongue that had Soap freezing his movements. When he looked up into the man’s eyes, he couldn’t help the way his stomach flipped. Ghost had a way of looking at him that sent every warning bell and nerve in his body off like a crack of lightning. Like a predator finally catching his prey after having it in its sights for too long.

“Get undressed,” Ghost demanded.

Normally, Soap would put up a fight just to be an ass, but he didn’t have much fight left in him at this point. He was so on edge, so close to finally getting off he was honestly scared what he would do just to make it happen. With nothing more than a roll of his eyes in complaint, he started undoing the buttons of his shirt. It was only a matter of minutes before Soap was spread across the man’s lap in the back seat, completely naked. 

He felt like his brain was melting. There shouldn’t have been something so hot about the fact he was completely naked and bare while Ghost hadn’t even removed so much as his hat during all this. He could feel the rough denim on the sensitive skin of his thighs, the cold buckle from the man’s belt when he leaned forward just an inch. Soap wasn’t even ashamed when he realized he had been slowly grinding himself against the man, anything to ease his burning desire.  

Ghost finally spoke up, but Soap didn’t even stop his movements. “What’s your name?” he asked with that low and rough voice. Soap’s own ego was slightly stroked, he could hear the strain in the man’s voice despite the calm demeanor he was trying to convey. 

“John, but most people call me Soap,” he breathed out. He was two seconds away from ripping the clothes off this man himself.

“Soap? What kind of nickname is that?”

“Says the man called Ghost?” he quipped back.

“Alright, I’ll give ya that one. Why don’t you go on and get yourself ready for me, darling?,” he asked, but they both knew it was another command.

Soap couldn’t help the pointed stare he threw at the man. “Ye gonna make me do all the work, is that it?”

Ghost’s lopsided smile was answer enough. “I’m not the one who picked up the hat, Johnny.”

Johnny.

Fuck, why was that so hot to hear coming from his mouth? He really needed to get this thing moving.

Soap held his fingers out in front of the man’s mouth. When all he got was a questioning look in response, he rolled his eyes and pushed them against his lips. “Suck,” was all he said, patience wearing thin now.

Ghost opened his mouth slowly, letting Soap glide his fingers over his tongue. They were probably dirty as hell, covered in germs and popcorn butter but he didn’t really care at this point. The bastard would live. 

He was mesmerized as he watched Ghost work his tongue across his fingers. His mouth was hot, but nothing compared to the flames dancing across his skin as Ghost never lost eye contact during the whole ordeal. He could probably cum from this alone.

Before that thought became reality, Soap pulled his hand back. Watching the string of spit connecting his fingers to Ghost’s mouth glisten in the moonlight. 

He cursed lowly as he gripped himself in one hand, rising slightly before reaching around. He entered himself without a fuss, moaning at the friction as he slid his fingers in further. It burned a little, Ghost’s spit only helping ease the way so much. He preened like a peacock when he felt, more like heard, the other man’s sharp inhale below him. 

He started moving with a little more urgency at that, opening himself up while rocking his body back and forth. He wasn’t overly moaning like a whore, but he wasn’t exactly trying to hold back anything either. Quite enjoying the sharp little intakes of air and jerky movements of the man beneath him. He managed to get up to three fingers before he found that particular spot inside him. This time, his moans might have been a little porn starry. Ghost finally lifted his hands at that, gripping onto Soap’s hips like he was his lifeline. 

Soap wasn’t having any of that. He swatted the man’s hands away, pushing down on his chest with the hand not currently inside him when Ghost tried to protest. “No touching,” he scolded, taking great pleasure in the frustrated look on his face. 

Ghost grunted in response, like a damn toddler who didn’t get his way. “Awww,” Soap cooed at him, “Needy little thing, aren’t ye?” he said, throwing the other man’s words against him.

Ghost narrowed his eyes at that, but didn’t complain any further. “Funny.”

“I’d like to think so,” Soap replied. 

This time, when he went to undo Ghost’s belt, he wasn’t met with any resistance. With quick movements, he had Ghost pulled out in no time. Fucking hell. Massive was an understatement. It took everything in Soap to school his emotions. He wasn’t letting this bastard know how intimidated and equally impressed he was. He must have done a shit job cause Ghost had that satisfied, smug look back on his face. He could probably read minds for all he knew.

Soap gave a few quick pumps to Ghost’s cock before he lined himself up. He froze just as the other man was about to enter him. 

“The hat,” he said. It took a while before Ghost could tear his eyes away from where Soap hovered over his cock, the words finally registering before he reached up and placed his hat on Soap’s sweat-slicked mohawk. 

They were both burning up, feeling like a damn sauna in the backseat of the truck. The windows had fogged up a while ago as they swapped air in the small space, thankfully providing a thin form of privacy. 

Soap smiled as he adjusted the hat with one hand, the other still lining Ghost up as he slowly lowered himself down. 

Fuck.

They both moaned in chorus as Soap’s still too-tight heat enveloped Ghost’s cock. He sunk lower and lower at a glacial pace, letting gravity do the work and take some of the strain off his shaky legs.

He bottomed out eventually, resting on Ghost’s hips as he caught his breath. Ghost was panting below him, chest heaving as his body was strung tight with tension. Soap knew the man was dying to take control. Too fucking bad.

When Soap’s world wasn’t spinning anymore, he lifted himself back up before repeating the process all over again while setting a steady pace. He wasn’t going very fast, but he didn’t really need to. Ghost was so big that he reached all the spots he needed him too, the stretch and burn sending bolts shooting up his spine was enough for him.

He gripped tightly onto Ghost’s leather vest with his right hand, his own make shift bull rope as his left held onto the black hat resting on his head. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Ghost, but he still had to lean and bend at a weird angle to fit in the cramped space. He started to pick up a little speed, his movements mimicking Ghost’s from when he rode the bull earlier. Soap snapped his own hips back and forth, occasionally grinding down in a circular motion that had Ghost groaning unabashedly. 

He wasn’t normally one to be overly cocky, but he basked in the satisfaction of ruining this man. That calm and collected demeanor washed away by the panting, barely held back animal beneath him. Hell, he was equally just as ruined. He couldn’t contain the little punched out moans that escaped every time Ghost hit his prostate on each rock backward. He wouldn’t last a minute longer and judging by the shaking man before him, he wasn’t the only one. 

“S-Simon, pleaaase,” Soap groaned out between moans. He tried to convey everything he was thinking and wanted in that one word. Ghost being the mind reader he was picked up on it without dropping a beat. Like he was waiting for it.

He immediately grabbed onto Soap’s hips with enough force to bruise. Fuck, Soap wished they would. With one last glance at the man below him, Soap closed his eyes as Ghost started jackhammering into him. The car was a symphony of curses, moans, and grunts. Neither man holding back now. Soap removed his hand from the hat and pushed it against the ceiling, trying desperately to find purchase and not fall over. The rough movements had the sweat from his forehead running down his face, beads dropping onto Ghost’s chest off his nose and chin. He couldn’t find a single fiber of his being that cared.

His end was nearing and he wasn’t going to deny it this time. “Fuuuck, don’t s-stop,” he moaned as Ghost abused his prostate at the angle they were in. If Ghost decided now was a good time to tease the man, Soap would probably end up committing murder.

He could tell Ghost was almost at his breaking point as well. The man’s thrusts started to become wild, losing all sense of coordination as he chased his release. Soap screamed out when Ghost lifted his hand off his hip and grabbed his cock, pumping it in an off beat against his thrusts, never allowing Soap a second of reprieve from overwhelming sensation. 

“Go on, cum for me, Johnny,” he rasped out. Who was Soap to deny him?

Soap’s whole body seized as Ghost slammed into that bundle of nerves harder than he’d done all night. It felt like lightning was shooting through his body as his vision whited out. He didn’t even feel bad that he made a mess all over Ghost’s vest, too blissed out to even care. Ghost lasted around three and a half thrusts more before he was following Soap over the edge as well, cursing his name as he did. It was the best thing Soap had ever heard in his life. He responded with a groan as he felt Ghost empty out inside him. The feeling making his own spent cock twitch in response. Round two was not an option currently on the table. Soap felt like rolling over on the floor right there and taking a twenty hour nap after this. He didn’t think Ghost would mind very much.

They sat there for a few minutes, chests heaving and skin sweaty where they were still connected. Soap started looking around, his eyes scanning the man’s truck before he found what he was looking for in the center console. He popped the lid off and held it between his teeth as he unzipped Ghost’s soiled vest and unbuttoned his shirt. He ignored the curious eyes watching his movements. With the man’s chest now bear, Soap moved the marker to scribble out his number in his chicken scratch. He pulled back, looking down at his work with a satisfied expression as he capped the marker and tossed it over his shoulder. 

“Give me a call next time you’re in town, cowboy,” he said as he slowly raised himself off of Ghost’s softening cock. 

He wasn’t sure if the man had even heard him. His attention drawn to where he pulled out of Soap, his cum slowly starting to drip down his thighs. It was gonna be an uncomfortable ride home. He glanced around and grabbed his discarded clothes, doing his best to put them back on in the limited space. Ghost just sat there watching him, lounging across his backseat without a care in the world. 

Soap finally managed to put his shoes back on, pulling out his phone and ordering an Uber ride. He turned down Ghost’s offer to drive him home, he needed to get away from the man so his brain wasn’t mush anymore. With one last glance around, he leaned over Ghost on his knees. 

“Ye know, I like this hat. I think it’s mine now,” he stated.

“That so?” Ghost asked as he looked up at Soap.

“Yeah, it’s mine. Ye know what that means?” 

“What?” Ghost responded, genuinely curious. 

Soap lifted up the hat before lowering down, placing it back onto Ghost’s head as he whispered low in his ear. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

Soap didn’t say anything else as he exited the vehicle. The smile was uncontrollable as he walked across the gravel lot back to the car pick up zone.

 A man with a short circuiting brain laid in the backseat of his car behind him.

[goosita]

billy antrim is smooth

he pulls you in with strong hands at your waist, warmth radiating off of him. his chest is broad and sturdy where your hands fall against it, flannel shirt soft and worn. there’s a group of other men somewhere in the corner of the saloon, playing at their guitars and fiddles while the oil lamps keep the place lit in a hazy glow.

“hey, sweetheart,” he drawls, giving you a crooked smile. so boyish and sweet despite the heat simmering in his eyes. “missed ya today.”

he’s been out in the sun, that much you can tell. his cheeks are redder than usual, freckles dotting his nose faintly. dust has settled in the wisps of dark hair that fray out from underneath his hat. he smells like grass and sunshine, something masculine and heavy below the surface. billy’s been pulling long days, doing work he never really tells you about. all you know and need to know is that he’ll come find you at the end of the day, he always does.

everyone in town always called him “the kid”, but by the time you’d met billy, he was all man. his jaw sharp and stubbled, tall and broad and firm, unyielding. he commanded attention, even when he didn’t mean to. billy antrim holds himself confidently, self-assured. he had a natural leadership to him, something that it caused people to look at him and see him. the men watch him with mixtures of admiration and envy, and the women watch him with longing and desire.

“missed you too, billy,” you say with a smile in return. and its true; you always miss him during the day. billy haunts your thoughts when the sun is up, then slinks into your arms when the moon replaces it.

he pulls you in tighter to his body, his hand splayed across your lower back pressing you flush against him. his grin twitches up a little higher at the little gasp that his actions pulls from you. this close, you can feel exactly how much he’d missed you pressing into your lower belly through your skirts.

“i know, baby.” he dips his head to skim the tip of his nose along your cheek, his breath tickling your ear. “can’t wait to get you alone,” he whispers, pressing the softest kiss below your jaw. you knew people were probably staring, his bold display of affection in such a public space making you shiver. it didn’t really matter much, though. everyone knew you were his girl anyway.

“slow down, cowboy. i’m havin’ a nice time right here, actually,” you tease. billy lets out a breathy chuckle that makes your stomach do fluttery things.

the boys in the corner continue to play and you let billy sway you to their song, keeping his heavy palm at your lower back and holding your hand in his free one.

“alright. you want slow, i’ll be slow for ya,” he whispers, mirth dancing in his gaze. “anything you want, darlin’.”

always so in control, your man is. but he bends for you, lets you take his reigns. you know he’ll always give it to you. billy antrim is steadfast and unwavering, until you look at him with your pretty eyes and sweet lips. when you tell him what you want, that becomes his whim too then.

later on, when your wants begin to melt into each other until neither of you can wait any longer, billy keeps his promise. the way he undresses you and pushes you gently down onto his bed is slow, even slower when his lips and tongue caress everywhere on your body he can reach until you’re gasping and mewling his name.

slow even as he rolls his hips into you, feeling the way your thighs tremble around his waist. his hands take their time caressing the length of your arms before his fingers are wrapping around your wrists, pinning them into the pillows above your head. his mouth does wicked things against your own, his tongue teasing and teeth nipping softly.

when you beg for him to move faster, he smirks against your lips and shakes his head.

“nuh uh. you wanted slow, remember? we’re gonna be slow tonight.”

he chuckles at your whine, making a cheeky point to push hips hips even more unhurriedly. his pubic bone grinds against your clit at every press, making your back arch. his cock grazes against a spot inside you that makes you sob his name, relentless even as he takes his sweet time with you. it’s overwhelming, the sweetest torture as he moves against you. his bare skin sliding against yours feels like velvet, smooth and soft and warm.

he’s everywhere all at once, and you relish in being completely at his mercy. his sheets smell like him, splayed out around you as you writhe; his mouth only ever leaves yours to find a new spot to kiss, lick, bite. his hushed voice fills your ears, low moans and filthy praises that make your cunt squeeze even tighter around him. billy’s a solid weight above you, completely surrounding you and all of your senses. he’s taking you apart piece by piece and you let him.

when you finally fall over the edge, it feels like it lasts for ages. your body shudders and you pant, whimpering as billy whispers praises in your ear.

“that’s it, baby. cum on my cock, just like that. fuck, you feel so good,” he growls, and you can tell he’s close too. your thighs tighten around him, hips lifting to meet each thrust of his until he’s groaning and dropping his head to your shoulder, spilling inside of you. his body shines in the moonlight with a thin sheen of sweat, hot to the touch and sensitive.

billy antrim is smooth where you need him to be, when he occupies your thoughts at all hours of the day and lures you into his bed at night.

a/n: shoutout to the anon who told me about the black velvet edit on tiktok and also @ voidaconitum for making said edit

[middlingmay]

Photographer!Gale x Model!John AU Part 2

You can read Part 1 here.

Also, free drabble if anyone can spot the nods to some of our fave fics in the fandom ;)

It takes John a few days to call.

John used to lap up attention when he was younger, but that all disappeared after Curt. He'd gotten back a lot of his sociability and affability during his recovery, but most of the time he still feels like a ghost of his former self. He's still figuring out if that was a good thing or not.

So, although he’s not body conscious, the idea of standing in front of a camera and being the sole focus of a photographer; of his image being scrutinised - it all leaves him feeling a little more bare than he's comfortable with.

But he feels hypocritical, since he's preaching to the kids at the Centre that vulnerability is okay. And it's something his therapist is trying to get him to embrace more, himself.

So, he eventually calls the number on the card.

A smooth, very low, and very polite voice with a little drawl answers. It sends a shiver down his spine John knows isn't nerves as he inwardly scolds himself.

He tells the guy his name and Gale is gently enthusiastic. Helen told him John may be calling about the calendar and Gale is thrilled to help out with a project like that.

He explains to John that they’ll take some simple shots the first day, and it’ll all be very private so he doesn’t have to worry about a room full of prying eyes. And it’ll just be a handful of shots, too. A simple selection they can use for calendar mock-ups to help Helen recruit more volunteers.

Despite himself, John can’t help but feel put at ease with how professional and reassuring Gale sounds.

A few days later, John gets to the studio and finds the Bunk House at Thorpe Abbots Studios unlocked so he just heads right on in.

Inside he finds a man fiddling with the set. One look at him and John immediately pegs him as a model. Helen got another volunteer by the looks of it, and damn. He is stupid handsome. The kind that turns ya dumb.

And it helps John relax even more because as soon as the photographer gets a hold of this guy, he’ll forget all about John and make him carry their kit bag or something.

And John will do it, if it means he gets to look at the ungodly pretty man.

So, before the photographer turns up and takes all of this guy’s attention, John introduces himself - and finds he suddenly can’t shut the hell up.

“Did Helen rope you into this, too? You must do this all the time, looking like that. Not that it's all about looks! You’re obviously a real nice guy, doing this for charity, but you could do it professionally. If you wanted. Do you -? I’m not - I'm a bit nervous. You get nervous? But the photographer seems real nice; his voice is god, so fine, and I don’t mind listening to that order me around all day-"

Gale cuts him off - John still hasn't let him introduce himself - and says, “Thanks, but I hope I’m not that bossy. Gale Cleven, nice to meet you.”

Joh is equal amounts embarrassed and delighted. Having all of this guy’s attention feels thrilling.

He tries to flirt to work through the nerves; asks Gale if he’s got cute outfits for him to wear, that he’d clean up so good as a firefighter or a cowboy or a priest.

Gale smiles and refuses to comment and explains that he doesn’t do that kind of photography. He tells John about capturing people as they are, as they want to be, as they could be. And usually never how the person sees themself.

That’s what he sees as the purpose of the calendar, beyond raising money: showing real people, the stories on their faces and the map of their bodies; what they are and are not saying.

John is entranced listening to Gale talk about photography. And because he’s still a little egotistical, John asks what his body is telling Gale, and Gale says he’s not sure. He hasn’t learned to see him yet, but they’ll get there. Today is just practice.

Gale gets them started and tells John to just move around in the space however he wants, wearing whatever he wants - shoes on or off, jacket open or closed - though the way Gale eyes his jacket makes John thinks he'd rather see it off, and not for any fun reasons. He wonders what about it is so offensive to the other man. But despite his evident hang ups about sheepskin, Gale's focus is on whatever makes John feel comfortable. Whatever feels right.

At first John is awkward. He walks around swinging his arms and puffing up his cheeks and he hears a soft clicking as he does so.

Gale asks him questions to help him through. When he asks about the sheepskin John wears, John stands up straighter, confident and proud and tall and strength.

After he takes it off now he’s warmed up, Gale asks him about his work with the charity and the Centre and John lights and and gestures around wildly and runs his mouth. He’s full of energy and passion.

But when he almost, accidentally, veers into his own story, Gale reassures him that they’re not going to go anywhere he doesn’t want to go, and Gale clicks a photo there and then of John staring down the camera - at Gale - looking soft and open and trusting and wondrous. He has a faint blush. His mouth is slightly open. Curls have flopped over his forehead and his head is tilted back just a little. Gale keeps that photo in his portfolio for the rest of his career. It’s one of his favourite shots.

They finish up quicker than John expected (or liked, if he was being honest), and Gale promises to call and let him know when they’ve been developed. John has final say over which ones he shows Helen.

And John sees his shot and runs with it. “Better give you my number then, hm?”

They meet at a quiet café that serves tea that John did not even know existed. Gale looks eager, excited and he pulls a small bundle of A4 photos from an envelope.

John sees himself in a way he never did in the mirror. He sees self-assurance; vibrancy; life and fire. And gentle softness.

He’s speechless.

Gale isn't aware of the accomplishment that is. But he blushes at the look on John’s face is is very pleased at his reaction.

He also isn’t aware that John is feeling things he hasn't allowed himself to feel for years. And he doesn't feel scared of it. He’s excited to follow that feeling, see where it could lead.

[onihat]

Last week I turned in my final board of Craig of the Creek...

But also we got nominated for a GLAAD award for our Fire and Ice episode + talk about our many characters and episodes with LBGTQIA+ rep!

IM SUFFERING FROM EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH I DIE LOL

ᴵ ʷʳᵒᵗᵉ ᵃ ᵇᶦᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵒⁿ ᵗʷᶦᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ’ˡˡ ᵈᵒ ᶦᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗᵒᵒ ʰᵃʰᵃ. ᴵᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ʷᵉᶦʳᵈ ᵖᵒˢᵗᶦⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵐᶦˡˡᶦᵒⁿ ᵗᶦᵐᵉˢ... (sorry for the copy paste-y lmao)

I came on the show as a wee revisionist and one of the first things I talked to Ben and Matt about was EVA and I said that it was grandpa anime lmao. Eventually I slithered my way into being a board artist where our Creek dads allowed me to go buck wild with their OCs. 

Why they trusted me is a mystery I will not challenge.

I was able to write and say so much I wouldn't even dreamed would make it to TV.

 Never in my life did I think we'd write about a Filipino family or writing an ep about young love based off my high school (cringe) experience writing fanfics about our sonic & KH OCs. Sorry my old friends in HS. I wonder if they’ve noticed..

Being on Craig I learned SO MUCH. It altered my brain chemistry on how to approach writing, art, and a bit of myself as well. I was allowed to be open, wild, honest, and vulnerable. Its great to not have been told no... at least for half the things I pitched lmao

There are many episodes left for yall to see! If you think what you've seen already was great, get ready to get your socks ass blasted off. Every episode you can feel the crew putting all they can into this show! Writers, Designers, Painters, Production, Animation... EVERYONE!!!

Its too powerful! Its so beautiful!! Its kinda amazing!!!

AND LOOK WE GOT NOMINATED FOR A GLAAD! LETS GO!

I love the Creek, I love the crew. I got to work with some of the most caring, kind, talented, and amazing people in this industry. Truly the best years of my career... no! My life!! Thank you, Wish us LUCK, and I hope you enjoy the show! See ya later space cowboys~

[stevesbipanic]

Boy For All Seasons

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Ao3

After that it became rare for the boys not to see each other. Steve always dropped off and picked up the kids from Hellfire but now he came inside and chatted with Eddie while they packed up. Eddie was now a glorified employee of Family Video often helping Steve and Robin put back tapes while they talked about whatever came to mind. Before long, Thanksgiving weekend had arrived.

"Hey Stevie, how many Harringtons do you guys manage to fit in that big house of yours this time of year?"

"What do you mean, Eds?"

"Ya know, for Thanksgiving, oh or do you guys do the visiting, I guess a lot of y'all have big houses. Do you take turns?"

"Um, no, we used to visit my grandma but we haven't since she died when I was little, I think my parents are in Fiji this year."

"But then how do you have Thanksgiving dinner?"

"I...don't, just watch the football game and have a couple beers."

"Well, I'm sure Wayne would love someone who understood the game this year."

"You, you want me to join you for Thanksgiving?"

"Of course, Stevie, besides I'm pretty sure Wayne is signing the adoption papers as we speak."

Steve laughed, "He's known me for like three weeks, Eddie."

"Yeah, and? He's gotta get in quick, knows Dustin's mom's aiming for ya."

Steve smiles, "Ok Eds, I'll be there, but you better not have some turkey costume stocked away."

"Wouldn't dream of it, plus the church already borrowed it."

That weekend Steve was welcomed into the home of the Munsons.

"I brought pie," Steve said wrapped in a soft sweater when Eddie answered the door.

"You know you didn't have to bribe me, sweetheart, but it is much appreciated," Eddie replied taking the pie as Steve stepped inside.

"Game started yet?"

"Not yet, which side you rooting for, son?"

"Lions all the way, I have some pride after all. Better not be putting on the Cowboys game either."

Eddie barely understood what had been said but the look on Wayne's face made it clear this was the right answer. Eddie finished up dinner while gazing foundly at the two men on the couch. The air was warm and comfortable despite the time of year, if Eddie allowed himself to dream it felt like family, but he didn't want to get his hopes up just yet.

The three of them crowded round the too small table for dinner, Wayne making a little speech as he carved the turkey. They went around and said what they were thankful for this year.

"I'm thankful for the plant giving me a bonus so we could have this beautiful bird tonight."

"I'm thankful for Stevie for allowing me not to have to watch the game again this year."

"I'm thankful for both of you having me here tonight."

"We wouldn't want you anywhere else, Steve."

Later, after they'd shared pie around and it was time for Steve to head back home, Eddie stopped him.

"Hey, it's late why don't you just crash here?"

"That would be great actually if it's not too much trouble?"

"Course not."

"If you have a spare blanket I can just take the couch."

"Nonsense, my bed has plenty of room, c'mon."

Eddie's bed certainly did not have plenty of room for two fully grown boys, but neither of them complained as they lay back to back. Eddie was quick to fall asleep with his bed being nice and warm. For once, he woke up early the next day and was blessed with Steve curled into his chest, a relaxed look gracing his face. Eddie knew then it was too late, his hopes were up and he just hoped they wouldn't be left to fall.

Tags: @zerokrox-blog @smallfrogpleasedtomeetyou @eboyawstenn @sharingisntkaren @goodolefashionedloverboi @the-redthread @steddie-there @questionablequeeries @liorereshkigal @mightbeasleep @carlyv @my2amgaythoughts @gregre369 @space-invading-pigeon @bisexualdisastersworld @epiclazershark @sherrylyn628 @raisedbylibrarians @swaghettoni

[shipsational]

Hi!!!👋🏾😊

I'm curious about your self insert for the golden trio. How did they meet Johnny and Jack? And, anything else you'd like to share about them. No pressure, though.😊 Sorry if you already answered this question somewhere before, lol.

absolutely! Okay So the thing is the insert for jack and johnny normally is kinda Just Me, but in the CN city bumper crossover universe (im actually considering making a much bigger, nonsensical crossover world for all my f/os but we'll see!) unfortunately beyond that im still ironing out the specifics with my insert there, since its gonna be a part of something so extensive

however! beyond that, i Also have a fun and funky au for them that leans way more into the vibes of jack's canon- i call it Samurai Bravo: Space Opera, and its about me and the boys traveling through a retro futuristic sci-fi universe (think cowboy bebop meets lupin lll out of touch (synthwave remix) vibes lol) where aku is still the evil in charge of the greater worlds, and jack is from a family that was destroyed by him. he's dedicated his whole life to taking aku down, and this eventually leads him into a bar looking for information, and this is where johnny comes in.

johnny in the space opera au is something of an idiot savant- he's actually one of aku's top assassins despite being dense like a brick bless his heart. he's only in the business to take care of his mama of course.

but in this bar, some guys pick a fight with jack because that just sorta happens to him when people see he has a samurai sword and want to know just how tough he thinks he is. since johnny is a pretty good guy when he's off the clock, he steps in to help jack and its a real bar rager, and maybe they get a little flirty when they escape out the back door when things get out of hand, whatever its not like they'll ever see each other again anyway- except for a few days later when johnny is told that he has to go take care of the cute samurai he met. this is doubly unfortunate when i, his childhood best friend, overhear the phone call about his dangerous double life and he has to decide what to do about that.

well turns out that the thing he decides to do is to basically kidnap and hide me away somewhere that i'll be safe since i now know too much, and then he's off to try and kill jack.

obviously eventually we work it all out and decide to go on the run together to all try and stop aku. unfortunately bunny bravo might have had to die to catalyst johnny into going against aku but thats angst and plot for ya!

i'll of course add more to this eventually, and i need to actually get down a design for my insert (since its scifi im lowkey considering making them partially alien or something but we'll see!

as a fun little bonus, years ago before i was openly proship, i participated in a selfship halloween event, and i came in second place! it was for this moodboard and the idea that the three of us got stuck in a scoooby doo esque haunted house

and this was the little prize doodle i got for it! my insert had really long brown hair at the time cause I had really long brown hair (it was exaggerated of course)

i really hope the proship selfship community does similar events sometime if they dont already

[imfluentinfangirlandgay]

A Father's Resolve - Ch 9

Ingo returns after a decade - with two extra cars in tow. Years later, his kids are swallowed up by time in the same way he was. Will he be able to find them? Will they be able to make it out alive?

Word Count: ~3000

The twins wound their way through the Heartwood to hopefully find this Warden that they'd been told about. Their teams were trained up decently and they were having a grand time trying to write about Buneary. 

“Lookit her!” Akari squealed. “She's so cute!” She ruffled the soft down of the little rabbit she'd caught. It flicked its ear at her in annoyance. Rei did have to admit it was adorable, even if it had a horrible attitude. 

“I got that Silcoon we saw. I'd say let's see what this Warden wants and how to study Kleavor.” Rei tossed a ball in the air and caught it idly as his sister caught up to him on the dirt path, shaking the water from her shoes. She'd fallen in the stream trying to scramble back from a suddenly-livid Psyduck. 

“Fine.” 

Rei rounded the corner, seeing some man-made structures come up in his field of vision. A gateway appeared down the path, with some stone bowls carved from a large boulder in the middle of the arch. And in front of this stood a boy wearing soft pink and a hat that Rei could only describe as a cowboy hat. He was maybe ten with red curly hair and a stern expression on his young face, still trimmed with baby fat. 

Rei stared at the hat. He'd seen it before-

“That's Clay's hat,” Akari whispered to him in Unovan. “Remember fighting his Excadrill? That's totally it. Look at the gem.” She was right. The same green jewel set in the hat, square and sparkling, surrounded by gold trim on white leather. 

“Didn't… didn't Clay say his family was from another region? That they immigrated to Unova?” Rei murmured back. 

Akari simply nodded. 

This was getting weird. First their mother, now Clay's… grandfather? Great-grandfather? More generations? And he was younger than them! 

“I'm Lian, Warden of the Lord of the Woods, Kleavor. You're here to see the mighty Kleavor, ain't ya?” the boy called to them in greeting. Even his voice sounded like a younger version of Clay's! The boy crossed his arms, a smug look on his face. “I can see it on ya. You heard about his awesome power and now he's only become even more powerfully awesome.” He smirked into the crook of his elbow as the twins stepped up to him, finally. “That bolt of lightning charged him… maybe it was almighty Sinnoh's doing? Either way, as much as it pains me, I must turn you away.” 

“But we need to!” Akari blurted out. Lian's eyes flicked to her. He grinned slyly. 

“I must commend your passion, but unfortunately it is not safe. I have been given order by Irida to not let anyone see him right now. So back out now, lest you face the wrath of my Goomy.” 

“I accept,” Akari said before Rei could even think. 

“Akari-” 

“Back up.” She shoved him back and cleared a small space for a battle. Lian sighed and whistled. A small pokemon appeared from behind the stone bowls, a purple blob of a creature. Rei hadn't actually seen a Goomy before but he decided he needed to find one because this thing was perfect. A dopey smile graced what could be called its ‘face’  it had two small eyes and a big grin and it slowly trailed along and Rei needed to get a Goomy right now. 

“Goomy, let's try to ooze some sense into these interlopers!” Goomy gave a cry of challenge and oozed its way to the battlefield. 

Akari picked a ball carefully and tossed it out. Riptide, newly evolved, gave a small cry of its own. It stanced itself up, preparing for a long battle… 

That did not last long. 

Riptide did not take very long to tear through the small Goomy. It was clear that although the boy cared deeply for his partner, it was not very well-trained. He sagged a bit as he conceded defeat. “I still can’t let you through,” he sighed. “It is too dangerous. No one can get through to my Lord- Irida?” 

The twins turned to see the girl behind them, watching with wide, sad blue eyes. “Lord Kleavor is descended from a pokemon blessed by almighty Sinnoh itself. I did not want to have to throw up our hands and ask for help from an outsider but… every moment that he remains like this, the danger grows. If he hurts more people and pokemon, it may cause problems with the Diamond Clan and the Galaxy Team.” She paused, knitting her brows. “I hear that it was that bolt of strange lightning that changed him. Perhaps it was sent by that faulty god the Diamond Clan worships…?” Rei had to restrain himself from pointing out how stupid that sounded. “Regardless, do you both have any ideas how to help him? We care greatly for Kleavor; he means a great deal to our Clan. We do not want him to be hurt.” 

Rei glanced at his sister, who shrugged. It was obvious that they may be on their own with this one. It was hard to say what was wrong with him what they hadn’t even seen him yet. “We’ll figure something out,” was all Rei said. 

“Excellent!” Irida cut between the two and approached Lian, who still stood proud, even if Rei could now see the cracks in his small facade. He was just a boy with a big job he couldn’t handle by himself - and it tore him up on the inside. Rei could see how his eyes darted around, how they desperately scanned Irida’s face for some semblance of good news. How his small hands shook. “Lian and I will gather some of Kleavor’s favorite foods in an attempt to get close enough to make a proper offering. As for you, try to find a way to quell his frenzy, even if you must traverse every corner of Hisui!” 

The twins took that as a dismissal and nodded, turning and striding away. Once out of earshot, Rei asked Akari in Unovan, “What are we even supposed to do? I still don’t know what all this is about.” 

Akari debated as they snuck around the alpha Bibarel, staying quiet until they had passed by safely and were heading up Deertrack Heights. “Let’s ask Laventon. He’s a scientist, right? Maybe he’d have a clue.” 

—----------------------

Emmet shivered as he pulled his coat a little tighter around him. Why was the office so cold? He glanced up over the pile of paperwork he had in front of him, checking the face of the clock on the wall. The little train-shaped hand had a smokestack that pointed to the number five. It was already almost 6:30? Emmet leaned back in his chair, sighing to himself as his back popped. How long had it been since he’d moved? Four hours? His gaze traveled the room as he sat motionless in the cold. 

The walls had several framed photos and posters. The posters were mainly older Gear Station signs and advertisements for past events they had done, like a battle bracket one year for challengers or a holiday or New Year’s event. Emmet’s favorite was the spooky one, personally. Ingo always liked the spring decorations, the small flowers and the pastel colors. The twins had been split on the battle bracket and, for Rei, the scavenger hunt to collect every sticker hidden away on the platforms. The prize for finding them all was an authentic conductor’s hat, though he’d never cared for that. He had plenty. 

There were several photos dotting the area around the two desks, as well. Photos of himself and his team, Ingo and his teams (from Hisui and Unova, as he hadn’t had the chance to release his Hisui team before returning), the twins as they grew up, both with and without their starters, Elesa with all four of them, even a family reunion photo with Drayden and Iris and their extended family on his side. Emmet’s favorite had to be the one he kept on his desk, from when the twins were younger. Ingo’s kids were maybe eight years old, staring intently into the water under Tubeline Bridge, watching for any sort of movement. That is, until Iris had sent her Lapras into the water to prank them, having it pop its head out and making the two scramble back onto the bank with a strangled yelp, landing in a very undignified way on the muddy land on their bottoms. The photo had been taken just as the twins were yelling, Lapras’s face in a soft smile as it ‘greeted’ them. Iris was already in stitches, doubled over in laughter. Even Drayden had chuckled, his eyes shut in merriment, leaving Emmet to laugh openly. Only Ingo hadn’t truly laughed, though his eyes had twinkled as he held it in and made sure they were alright. Other than some bruised pride, they had been perfectly fine. 

He looked at the goofy photo. Emmet had pulled out his camera as soon as he’d seen Iris sneakily send her pokemon into the water someway upstream. It had been taken just downstream, so he could get everyone’s faces from afar. The kids’ eyes were wide as they leapt back - the photo still had them in mid-air, their arms blurry from reeling backwards. Emmet felt that familiar grin creeping up his face as he studied the photo. It always made him smile. Lapras had offered itself to being petted as an apology afterwards, and had even ferried the kids around on its shell for a bit on the water. 

Emmet sighed. He put the photo back and stood up, stretching. A deep sense of melancholy settled itself into his ribcage, sitting more heavy than a stone. His face drooped. It was much harder to make memories like that when the person - or rather, people, in this case - were missing. 

He checked his phone. A message from Drayden checking in, that he hadn’t heard anything yet about the missing kids, but he’d keep searching, he would always keep searching. Iris hadn’t heard anything, either. 

Keep up your hopes, Emmet. They aren’t gone for good. You told me that the first time we went through this, and I know you know it now.

Emmet typed a response as he grabbed his stuff, his day bag now slung over his shoulder. He made sure to unceremoniously dump a bit of the paperwork on Ingo’s desk and to shove some of the more urgent items into his bag. You are correct. I know that. But I am not the one who needs convincing. 

A moment passed as Emmet grabbed his personal items and opened the door to the office. He shut off the lights as he did, making sure not to waste needless power. He made his way down the hallway, checking again for a message. To his surprise, there was one. Drayden usually did not answer this quickly. I’m sure. Perhaps me and Iris can stop by sometime. Try to break him out of the horrid spell I’m sure he’s still under. It’s been how long now? This was about the time you became despondent. 

He entered the control room. Two or three Agents milled about, checking in on the monitors and speaking in low tones. They looked up as Emmet entered and waved to him. “Everything steady?” Emmet asked them. 

“Sure is, Boss. Just passengers and us left for the night shift. Only engine Orange being ran for the overnight shift. All others are already in the warehouse being assessed and cleaned.” The olive-skinned woman pulled up a camera feed, making it larger on the biggest screen in the center. It showed several large engines being serviced by night crew.

“Perfect.” Emmet put a cup in the coffee maker by the door and pressed what flavor he wanted. Mostly black, just a bit of cream. “Need anything else from me? I know I disappeared today. Lots of paperwork to catch up on.” 

“I don’t think so, Boss.” A pale man with glasses swiveled in his chair to face him. “Have a good night. We’ll see ya back here tomorrow morning. Wish Boss Ingo our best.” The other Depot Agents nodded solemnly. Though it had never been formally announced that the kids were missing, they all certainly knew. It was taboo to talk about it in the station, but the Agents were always sure to leave kind regards and if Ingo didn’t come in for a few days, it was never mentioned. 

“You as well. All aboard,” Emmet responded, more out of habit than anything. He snagged his cup and placed a lid on top as he snuck out of the station. He checked his phone again, typing out a response to his uncle. If you want to see him acting more like a stale piece of bread than a human, consider yourself invited. It’s hard to get him to do anything these days. I’ve been holding down the Station more often than not. Even if he does go in, he just stares at the wall. I’ve never seen him so invested in a book in my entire life than the history books he reads. 

He waved to the Agent by the door as he swung open the glass doors to the station and swept out into the warm night. Emmet sighed in contentment as he clutched his coffee. The sky was that ethereal orange seen across Unova. Light pollution had its large claws sunk deep into the region, and unfortunately, no night was truly the inky black he remembered on his trip to Alola with Ingo all those years ago. Street lights threw that ugly yellow undertone to everything that they always did. Quite a few people were out tonight, though Emmet supposed that was normal for seven at night on a Thursday in the summer. He wondered if there were any events, musical or battle-oriented or otherwise, that were going on soon in Nimbasa. There was almost always something. He passed under the one that flickered as he walked, checking his device yet again. A certain someone else I can think of was much the same. We will come by this weekend. Don’t worry about making the house too clean, we’ve definitely seen worse. Emmet could almost hear his uncle’s soft chuckle that accompanied it. Is there anything we should bring as well? Food, pokemon treats, anything of that sort? 

I don’t think so, Emmet typed, walking under another street light. He could see the bus stop in the distance. A few others were already at the stop, waiting for the next bus to arrive. He stood just outside the covered bench, leaning on a lamp post as he typed. I need to do some grocery shopping soon, so let me know if you want anything specific to snack on. It’s mostly just me doing things in the house these days. The Joltik aren’t as rowdy, either. The next clutch hasn’t hatched just yet and most of last year’s have already relocated to Chargestone and the tunnels.

This will be your eighteenth clutch, correct? 

Emmet glanced up as he thought about when he had first started officially breeding them. It would have been toward the tail end of Ingo’s absence. Elesa had convinced him that he needed some hobby other than going to work all the time, and she had remembered him talking about getting into breeding when he was younger, so she had bought him a book about the basics of pokemon breeding. That must have been during the eighth year of Ingo’s disappearance, and if he’s having one clutch a year and its been about ten years since he reappeared-

“Subway Boss Emmet?” Emmet blinked himself from his thoughts and glanced around. The person who had spoken was an older woman sitting on the bench. No one else around paid them any mind, some with earbuds in, some engrossed in something on their Xtrans. 

“Hm?” Emmet hummed to the woman, alerting her that he’d heard what she’d said. He let his hand with the phone screen fall somewhat, turning his attention to her. 

The woman had very light hair, almost white, long and very wispy, held up in a dark hat. She also had a dark dress. It almost looked like she was dressed for a funeral. She smiled up at him, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening in the glow of the orange street lamp above them. “I heard about what happened recently. Things will become right again for you.” 

He blinked. Honestly, this left him at a loss for words. “I- uh. T-Thank you? Thank you.” He regained his composure. “It will take some time, but I know the tracks will be rideable once more.” 

She chuckled as she looked up. Emmet could see the bus in the distance. “It will indeed. My great-great niece would love you. She is very into history, you see, much like my nephew was… oh, what a strong-willed man, he was. Is! That never left him.” 

As she rambled, Emmet’s mind was reeling. Who was this woman? He didn’t think she’d ever seen him before. The fact that she recognized him by sight alone was nothing odd, he was something of a local celebrity, especially in uniform. He was about to ask what she meant when she glanced around again and shook her head. “It seems my stop is coming. I wish you could meet my lovely niece. She would want to talk to you for days about Hisui and the heroes-” 

“You know about Hisui?” Emmet asked incredulously. He needed to know more. He needed-

“Good luck, Emmet. Keep your brother strong. The children are looking for him.” The bus’s headlights engulfed his vision for a moment, making him blink. As soon as he opened his eyes to ask her what she meant, the bench was empty. Emmet whirled around, looking for the old woman, but she was nowhere to be seen. The door to the bus opened with a mechanical hiss. Other passengers began to climb aboard. Emmet gave one last glance around as he climbed aboard next, shivering under his coat, trying to shake the feeling of being watched. 

[First] - [Previous] - [Next]

[therobotmonster]

Certified Saturday Morning Bangers of the 80s

(Incomplete, In no Particular Order)

I've probably done this post before, or something dangerously close, but I don't care, so lets rock!

Where possible, i've gotten extended cuts. This means video quality won't always be prime, but we're here for the tunes.

No Guts No Glory - Galaxy Rangers Theme

No Guts no Glory is a strong opener, both for one of the bizarrely common space cowboy shows of the 80s and for this post. It is a textbook Saturday Morning Banger, more believable as a real song than some actual 80s radio hits minus the name shoutout to Galaxy Rangers.

Can't blame 'em for working the song into an episode as a music video. This is something modern 'toons ought to do. 3 minute pop-song opener, make the full version in an ep, and use that section as a youtube trailer.

M.A.S.K. Theme - M.A.S.K.: Mobile Armor Strike Kommand

MASK is a show that, if it didn't exist, would be the fake 80s cartoon in other TV shows, and the theme song is the platonic ideal of 80s cartoon theme songs, a Shuki Levy-penned techno-pop earworm proudly belting the show/toyline theme without a trace of irony.

No one would mistake it for a radio hit, but it still hits right. See the laser rays fire away, indeed.

Count Duckula Theme - Count Duckula

I literally have a whole post about this theme song.

As a fan of novelty music, this slaps.

Wheeled Warriors - Jayce and the Wheeled Warriors

Can you sue a theme song for false advertising? Jayce and the Wheeled Warriors was a notorious flop and a tower of missed potential. It's theme song, on the other hand, threads the needle evenly between the radio-ready Galaxy Rangers and the delightful cornball sincerity of M.A.S.K.

"Wheeled Warriors" may seem like an odd topic for a song but I remind you that Judas Priest exists.

Jem is My Name - Jem and the Holograms

This song actually would have topped the charts if the cassettes sold with the toys counted as album sales. That's not a joke.

It also beats the trend of "boast songs" with a guest verse from a rival band by literal decades. Truly a pioneer, truly, truly outrageous.

Zone Riders - Spiral Zone

Meanwhile, the opening to Spiral Zone was very indicative of what you'd get, a tonally odd mixture of high cheese and Poe-faced intensity. A chorus singing the concept of the show with the reverence of a hymn.

C.O.P.S. Theme - C.O.P.S. (Central Organization of Police Specialists)

No, not the FOX series that set humanity back decades, but the wacky 30s-retro cyberpunk G.I.Joe sequel. An excellent sample of a minimal theme song, not quire a pure instrumental, but a lot of fun and just pleasant to listen to.

I might post more later. But if you're looking for covers for your weird soundcloud project, there ya go.

[remwrites]

For the fic prompts/requests: wild west!scarian, Grian is an infamous bandit who’s high jacking the Luxo Express that happens to be carrying a large sum of money/gunpowder (up to you) from Tumble Town, but also on the train is the deputy Scar tasked with making sure the cargo gets to where it needs to be on time and w/o a hitch

hahahaha ok this is small and silly but here ya go

[]

"Hands up. Stay right where you are."

Grian raised his hands above his head, the sly grin on his face seemingly not at all concerned by the gun levelled at his chest. He said, "On what grounds, my good deputy?"

"You know very well." Scar said, tipping his chin back to uncover his face from the shadow of his hat.

"I have done nothing wrong." Grian gestured his palms open, empty, still above his head.

The train hurtled forward on the tracks, swaying the standoff in unison with the rattle-rattle-thunk, the scenery flashing by the windows too fast to see.

Scar's eyes narrowed. "An infamous bandit, on my train? I think I can guess."

"Can't a gentleman just catch a ride?" Grian asked, and flashed a wink of his eye.

"Keep your hands where I can see them, gentleman." Scar replied, recentering his grip on his weapon as the train swung around a corner, interia yanking them along.

"You can look at me all you like." Grian promised, practically a purr, approaching with a click of his boot.

Scar should've taken a step back, but he held his ground, looking at the man down his sight. He kept his finger off the trigger, wary. "What's your plan?"

Grian crossed the car in a confident pace and took the gun by the muzzle, directing it at the floor. He reiterated, "I've done nothing wrong. No need to get so feisty."

"Nothing wrong today. But your face has seen more than enough wanted posters that I should take you in." Scar told him, trying not to show how enchanted he was by the close presence of the pretty bandit.

"Should you?" Grian asked, leaning into his space and gently removing Scar's hat, placing it on his own head.

"I should." Scar said, mouth dry.

Grian said, coaxing, "Do you know what they say about wearing a cowboy's hat, my good deputy?"

You get to ride the cowboy. Scar did not voice the answer, swallowing. His face dusted pink.

Grian tipped his head down, looking up through the shadow of the brim with only a flash of his grinning teeth.

"See you later." He promised, stepping through the train car door and disappearing.

The gold Scar had been protecting was in the opposite direction. Yet somehow, when they arrived, it was all gone. Scar pretended he had no idea where both the gold or his hat could've gone.

[koibish]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*see ya later, space cowboy...*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[draculaugust]

okay everybody i am going to canada today and will not have wifi or signal so i’ll see ya later!! so long space cowboys

[deke-rivers-1957]

ECU High - Clint's Arrival

It was the first day of school at ECU High. Clinton, Clint for short, Reno was just dropped off at the front by his brother, Vance.

Vance turns to Clint as he exits the pickup truck and says, "Ya best have a good day at school ya here Clint."

"Oh Ah will. Thank ya, Vance" he replies as Vance drives away.

It's Clint's freshman year at ECU High. Ever since his brothers made the military their careers, Clint was left alone with his mother as the baby of the family. When his father died, the family farm lost a lot of its income. They were so poor that he had to take on most of the work as they couldn't afford farm hands, leaving him little time to socialize.

However, their luck changed for the better. Vance got himself a good job at the high school as the organizer of the junior ROTC using his military connections. The position paid so well that Vance hired some farm hands. Their mother now has enough help to be able to send Clint to a regular school.

Clint sees a sign saying "Freshman Schedule Line" with a couple other boys standing in it. He walks up right behind the boy in front of him, hoping to make a friend.

"Hi, mah name's Clint Reno. Wha's yer name?" he asks.

The boy in front of you flinches.

"Ah! Oh." he looks at Clint and narrows his eyes.

"Are you one of 'em cowboy types?" he asks.

Clint looks at him smiling and says, "Yes, Ah've been workin on mah family's farm all mah life Tyler, Texas".

The boy still looks at Clint and asks, "Do you know bout any of 'em Native reservations?"

Clint looks confused and says, "Ah heard of 'em, but Ah never been to one. Ah heard they ain't so good fer Native Americans. Is that were yer family lives?"

The boy looks like he's about to get angry, but realizes that Clint was legitimately asking without judging.

"Yeah. My name's Pacer Burton. I'm half Kiowa on my mother's side. We used to live on an old reservation in the Texas Panhandle until," he peters off. Pacer looks like he has a secret that he doesn't want to tell. Like he went through something so traumatic recently that it's left him very troubled.

"Ya don't need to tell me, Pacer. Ah just wanna make friends. Ya wanna make friends too, right?", Clint asks completely sincere.

Pacer looks at Clint and just nods. He turns back around and moves up a space as one of the boys gets his schedule.

Clint watches him walk away and calls out, "Hey! Ah'm Clint Reno! Wha's yer name?"

The boy is dressed in a uniform like he's an Eagle Scout and quickly turns to Clint saying, "I'm Josh Morgan. I need to get to class so I won't be late on my first day."

He breaks off in a sprint while Clint is still in line with Pacer.

"I hate him." Pacer says under his breath as Clint looks confused.

"What'd ya say, Pacer?" Pacer flinches and turns around.

"That boy scout thinks he's so perfect. Who cares if you're late on the first day of school? Everyone knows that we gotta get our schedule first."

Clint doesn't say a word. He just waits in line and sees the next boy leave the line with his schedule. Since he looks more friendly, Clint tries introducing himself again.

"Hi! Ah'm Clint Reno! Wha's yer name?" he asks. This time the boy stops.

"Hi. My name's Mike Edwards. Nice to meet ya, Clint. I like your jeans. I have gym first so I gotta book it. Maybe I'll catch up with ya later. Just be care of those dang upperclassmen. They just wanna cause trouble." Mike waves as he starts to run.

Clint smiles, thinking he made a friend. Pacer is next as Clint watches him show the teacher his school ID and get his schedule. Pacer picks up his backpack and walks to his class.

"Next." the teacher says looking at Clint. Clint fumbles for his school ID.

"Mah name's Clint Reno. Here's mah school ID, sir.", he hands the teacher his ID.

The teacher goes through his files to find Clint's schedule and hands it to him saying, "Here you go. First period's English. Just follow the map in the building and you'll be fine."

Clint takes his ID back and smiles, "Thank ya, sir."

He follows Pacer. "Hey Pacer, wha's yer schedle this year?" he notices Pacer flinches again.

"Oh. Hey Clint. I got math 1st period. What's your first class?" he asks. Clint hands Pacer his schedule.

"Huh. We got most of our classes together. Even got the same homeroom at the end of the day." Pacer says while handing Clint his schedule back.

Clint smiles and says "Tha's great. Boy we're gonna be good ol' friends this year ain't we."

Pacer smiles a little. "Yeah. We are." He's a little surprised that Clint hasn't picked on him yet.

The first bell rings and Pacer looks at the stairs. "Listen, Clint I gotta go. My math class' on the top floor. I'll see you in bio," he says as he goes up the stairs.

Clint waves as he goes to English. As he looks for the right room he sees a boy at his locker. He sees Clint's cowboy hat and smiles saying "Wow. Nice cowboy hat! Do you live on a farm? I'm Lonnie Beale by the way".

Clint stops and looks at him. "Ah do live on a farm. Thanks. Mah name's Clint Reno. Nice to meet ya Lonnie. Are ya a freshman? Ah'm on mah way ta English class."

Lonnie's eyes widen. "Me too! Lemme see your schedule, Clint." Clint and Lonnie pass their schedules. They have English and gym together.

"You should put your hat in your locker, Clint. The teachers don't like it when we wear hats."

Clint looks at his hat. "Oh. Ah don't know where mah locker is. Can Ah jus put it in yer locker, Lonnie?"

Lonnie smiles saying, "Sure, Clint. You can pick it up after English."

Clint takes his hat and puts it on the top shelf of Lonnie's locker. They start to walk to English class together. Lonnie asks Clint a lot of questions about what he does on the farm.

"You know Clint, I've always wanted to own a cattle ranch. Something about the lifestyle of just managing cattle and the clothes just has me obsessed." Clint's smiling the whole way until they get to class.

A woman is handing out "To Kill a Mockingbird" books to students as they walk in the door. Clint sees a boy immediately opening his copy to read. He looks a little serious, but Clint still wants to make friends with as many people as possible.

"Hi. Mah name's Clint Reno. What's yer name?", he says smiling.

The boy looks up with a neutral face and only says "Glenn Tyler" before going back to his book.

Clint respects this and sits down at a desk next to Lonnie. Another boy shows up just before the bell rings. He sits down in a desk to Clint's right.

"Hi. My name's Ted Jackson." he says quietly.

Clint waves slightly saying "Ah'm Clint Reno. Nice ta meet ya Ted."

The teacher gets a pile of papers from her desk.

"Good morning class. I'm your English teacher, Ms. St. Clair. This will be the syllabus for the year. Be sure to write down the due dates to all assignments in your planner. As you can see, I do not give out extensions outside of once in a life time circumstances." she says as she passes out the syllabus to everyone.

The class reads through the syllabus and there's about 15 minutes left.

"Spend the last 15 minutes getting to know your classmates. Ask them what their favorite book or genre is. We will compile a list and try to establish common themes." Ms. St. Clair says as the students look around the room.

Ted looks at Glenn reading "To Kill a Mockingbird" again. He goes up to him and asks "Hey, I'm Ted. My favorite book's "A Tale of Two Cities". I just love adventure novels. What's your favorite book?"

Glenn looks up and kind of smiles saying, "I just finished reading "The Hobbit" which is an absolute classic. I've been trying to get into classic literature."

Clint looks around the room and sees everyone talking. He starts to smile as he realizes that he's going to make so many friends this year.

"This year's gonna be great. Yeah. It's gonna be alright" Clint thinks to himself as the bell rings, ending his first class.

AN: If anyone wants to be tagged for this leave a like, comment or reblog.