#so I didn't add many car like accents

[transformeraday]

Can you do Bumblebee and Rubble but in Cyberverse style?

Today's transformers are: Bumblebee and Rubble from Transformers: Cyberverse!

[auroracalisto]

stay outta trouble, yeah?

tangerine x southern!reader, 3.7k words summary: he's taken by their southern accent, much like they're taken by his british one. color him intrigued, because why not? he'll be getting them to safety as soon as he can get away from the fight--or rather, telling them to get to safety. a/n: before you read the rest... there are a few lines i took from the movie to keep part of the plot alive. and then it goes haywire... anyway. listen i was just thinking about how incredible it would be to talk to tangerine and not actually hide my personal accent. here you go, pookies. (i'm from west virginia if that helps you). i've also never been farther than türkiye, so my knowledge of what it's like to travel to japan is very limited. pardon my inaccuracies even though i only talk about it for like... .2 seconds, at most. tw: major canon divergence, talks of blood, wounds, cursing, etc.

It'd been a long few days in Tokyo. Traveling for your own enjoyment was always an incredible thing, but good lord, was it exhausting.

The flight, which was non-stop from the Washington Dulles Airport, thank goodness, was nearly sixteen hours. No connecting flights, no dealing with confusing and unfamiliar airports. But just the flight itself was enough to send your sleeping pattern to all kinds of craziness. Don't even mention the fact that you had to drive to the airport, which took several hours just to get there...

Wasn't the first time, and certainly wouldn't be the last.

Travel was a luxury so many never had the opportunity to experience. When you had the chance to go to Japan, you took it. It was practically a dream vacation, despite how exhausting it truly was.

You'd come back to Tokyo after a few days in Nagoya, the second to last stop on this bullet train, maybe a quick day trip to Kyoto after, but time was of the essence. You may not have planned every little detail for this trip of a lifetime, but you had a good idea as to what you were going to do.

The bullet train would be at your stop in nearly two hours. That was plenty of time to take a nap and probably figure out what you'll do in Nagoya after finding your planned accommodations.

You found a seat in the "quiet" car, almost giddy to know that there was a car specifically for that. Being from the southern United States, the only actual train you could recall was the Amtrak Trains, but even then, you didn't know as much as you could have about them.

You kept your backpack close to you, trying to find your earbuds so you could have them before you actually sit down.

As you walked, absentmindedly, of course, you bump into a rather tall and, might I add, breathtaking man with one of those 80s' mustaches—like the guy from that one season of American Horror Story. It rather suited him, but that's not what you were thinking as the words quickly spilled from your mouth:

"I'm so sorry," you said, southern drawl instantaneous. "Wasn't watching where I was goin'."

The man looked down at you, blue eyes curiously catching yours. He smiled, and you could feel your heart melt within you. Or maybe your lungs. It seemed hard to breathe for a moment.

"No worries, love," he said, a very British accent joining his words. He scrunched his nose a bit and moved out of your way, while the man behind him muttered something under his breath. "No harm done."

You return his smile, although hesitantly. God, was he gorgeous. But that was beside the point. You moved around him, knowing you probably looked like a mess—you had only spent two nights in Tokyo, and they weren't very restful. Skincare could only do so much to make you look awake and not like you've risen from the dead just hours prior.

You choose a seat nearby where the British man and his two friends were sitting, putting your backpack on the table just in front of you. You grabbed your phone from your pocket, making sure you still had your charger in the pack, before you set up your earbuds and your music.

Your eyes flickered over to the British man, not saying anything as you opened your preferred playlist. He briefly glanced back at you and sent a rather cheeky smile before he looked back to the man in front of him.

"Fuckin' hell, mate," Lemon said as he looked at his brother. The man had made him move just so he could have an eye on the American who bumped into him. "Go and talk to ‘em, yeah? Leave me out of it."

Tangerine rolled his eyes. "Fuck off," he said. "We gotta job, yeah? Speakin' of." He stopped and looked towards the White Death's son, blinking slowly for a moment. "You gonna tell us much else or are you keepin' us in the dark?"

The Son mumbled something under his breath, tiredly looking out the window. He didn't know why he was here, other than the two brothers saying they were hired by his dad to get him to safety.

Right. Safety. What a joke.

"Right, so," Tangerine began. "Our job is to keep you safe and to recover the briefcase with the ransom money inside. And I plan on completin' my job and keeping..."

Tangerine looked at his brother, narrowing his eyes. "Lemon."

Lemon looked up at him. "Hmm?"

"Where's the briefcase?"

"Oh, I stashed it."

Tangerine stared at him in admonishment for a bit longer than necessary. "The case, Lemon. Go get me the fucking case."

"We got his son. That was our job."

"Our job was to come back with his son and his 10 million." Tangerine groaned softly and looked out of the window, sucking in a breath. "Three words describe our situation right now. Do you know what they are?"

"Sure do," said Lemon. He held up a hand and counted them off as he spoke: "Saved his son."

"Motherfucker," Tangerine blurted. He went on his spiel about the White Death, which seemed to be quite imperative as Lemon hadn't read the email he forwarded to him. Of course he hadn't—when did he ever? Why did he bother?

"He asked for pros who wouldn't fuck up," Tangerine said. "Three words, Lemon. We are..."

"Fucked." They say the words together, and if it had been another time, perhaps just hours prior, it would have been fun. Not this time. No, this time, they knew they were in deep shit.

They needed to get that suitcase and quick.

They returned to the Son only for him to be... well, let's put it frankly, bleeding from his eye-sockets and mouth, and so very dead.

"Well, shit," Tangerine sucked in a breath as he looked at the boy who had called him a liability only moments earlier.

The two trained assassins set to work on making it look like he was merely sleeping, even going as far as giving him Momonga glasses. You never know.

Tangerine looked at Lemon, frowning deeply. "We need t' find that briefcase," he said.

"Right," Lemon returned, staring at the Son for a moment before he looked up at Tangerine, nodding. "Right. Phone's on me. See if that American you ran into saw anything. Never know, yeah?"

Tangerine narrowed his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, seeing the object of his curiosity. "Hm. Go, Lemon. You see the case, deal with whoever has it."

"All right, how do I do that? Talk to him, or, like, talk to him?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell him about the story about how Gordon met Percy and how Percy's now bleeding from his fucking eye sockets!"

Lemon scoffed and left his side, going down the opposite side of the train.

"He means kill him. Of course he does."

Tangerine took one last look to the boy before he made his way to you, just a few seats down. He saw that you were asleep—surely, if you had been awake, you would've said something, right? Right. He's assuming, anyway. He keeps walking, knowing that he's got to find this briefcase and fast or else he and Lemon may not get a chance to even think about which arm they'd rather have cut off.

About twenty minutes into your restless nap, there's a loud noise blaring in your earbuds, and you jolt awake, grabbing onto your phone. You paused it, heart pounding in your chest.

"Damn," you cursed, knowing it was only from the song and nothing more. This song was notorious for loud noises. You take out your earbuds, a soft groan escaping you. Might as well stretch your legs and use the restroom since you're awake. It didn't seem like sleep was going to come easy on this train.

A voice came over the intercom, saying something about stopping momentarily, but you didn't catch the name of the station.

You stood and stretched, looking towards where the British man had been. He's not there, and neither is his one friend, but the other is there, sleeping. He's got the strangest glasses on, but you say nothing of it.

"Bathroom," you mutter under your breath, looking over your shoulder. You see a sign and follow it, taking your phone with you just in case.

You're quick, doing your business and washing your hands all under two minutes. Must be a record—the airplane bathrooms are so much more different than this.

You go to leave and open the door, and once again, you're not paying attention. You nearly bump into the tall, handsome British man, but this time, he is paying attention.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, a soft huff escaping him. "Watch yourself, love," he said, a playful smile on his lips (like he's not currently in one of the most stressful situations he's ever been in). "You're gonna get yourself hurt, now, aren't ya?"

Wide eyed, you looked up at him. "Shit, I'm sorry," you said. "It's—hell, I can't even give you a good excuse, but I didn't mean to."

"Nah, you're alright, love, just watch yourself for me, yeah?"

He let go of your shoulders, and you almost find yourself missing the touch.

"Go back to your seat, yeah? Keep an eye out for anyone weird for me."

You blinked slowly but nodded anyway. "Yeah, sure," you said. "You—"

But before you can continue, he sees something in the corner of his eye—either that or he hears something. You're not really sure. He flashes you a soft smile before he walked past you, clearly on a mission.

You let out a soft sigh and walk back to your seat, sitting down quietly.

As you get there, the British man's friend is back, and with another man—you don't catch their conversation, but whatever it is is rather heated. You simply put your earbuds back in and let your head fall back, unable to stop your eyes from fluttering shut. There's a few noises, but the sleep is far too good to come out of. At least, for now it is.

At some point, you feel someone shaking you awake. You quickly open your eyes, seeing the British man sitting across from you. He's got a few cuts on his face—not something he had before. You sat up and check your phone, eyebrows furrowed.

"What are you—"

You'd only been asleep for another twenty minutes.

"You're cute, love," he said, grabbing your phone from you.

"Hey—"

He held up a finger to you and quickly typed in a text message to his own phone. When he heard the buzz, he handed your phone back to you.

"Where's your stop, hm?"

"Nagoya," you answered. "Why?"

"Get off sooner, yeah?"

"What?"

He gave you a cheeky smile. "Get off sooner, love," he said. "Conductor must've missed you cuz you were sleepin', but he was sayin' that everyone needs to get off before Nagoya. Somethin' about the train needed worked on."

You blinked slowly. Were you still sleeping? You felt like you were. "Why the hell would they do that for? That don't even make sense—"

"Love, do it," he said, staring you down with those pretty blue eyes. "Get off on the next stop, yeah? I'll even give you the money for another ticket or somethin' if you need it."

You shook your head. "I can get another ticket, I just—"

There was something about the man that screamed danger, but no where did it scream liar. At least if he was a liar, maybe it was for good reason. Your gut feeling had been pretty good in the past, warning you against several things that could've gone terribly. Perhaps this was the Universe screaming at you to listen to it.

"Okay. I got the money. I'll just... I'll get off at the next stop."

He smiled softly at you. "Good. I'll be seein' you then, yeah? Keep yourself outta trouble."

He stood up, giving you a soft wink, before he left you in the quiet car.

You didn't see him again for the rest of the train ride, but you did listen to him. You got off at the next train stop and bought a new ticket, wondering if the cuts on his face had anything to do with his request.

It was a pretty nice warning, as crazy as that shit was.

Waiting for the next train, which would be there only momentarily, you pull out your phone. The only thing he had typed to his number was simple: Tangerine.

Was that codename for something? The fuck did fruit have to do with anything?

Nagoya, Japan.

A beautiful city with equally beautiful architecture (you'd be sure to visit the castle and the shrine after you finished exploring the city on your own terms).

You hadn't gotten a text from the handsome British man, but it didn't really bother you much. You didn't know him—just nearly ran into him a handful of times before he told you to get off the train.

Two days after the train ride to Nagoya, you find yourself on the streets, following your phone's GPS as best as you could to get to the castle. You should have just waved down a taxi cab, but you also wanted to experience the walk. That, in itself, was just as important as the journey over. Besides, your phone said only five minutes, but it seemed like it was re-routing and doing the exact opposite of being an accurate GPS.

You curse under your breath and go to type in another address in an attempt to see if it was just the castle address that was making your GPS wonky when you heard a familiar voice—you felt a familiar hand grab onto your shoulder.

"Be careful, love," the British man said, keeping you in your spot. You looked up—you're not even about to walk into anything, this time. You looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, hell," you blurted, wide eyed. "What the hell happened to you? Are you—" You pause, mouth gaped open as you look on in surprise. His friend, and that one long haired blonde guy, stand nearby. The one leaned up against the wall of a supermarket, while the other runs a hand through his blonde locks.

You looked up at him, lips parted. "Is that why you told me to get off the train?"

He gave you a pained smile. "Smart, love," he said.

There's a few people that pass by, mumbling about the sight of the rather bloodied and injured men.

"Shit," you said. "You—did you just come to Nagoya in hopes I'd still be here? What if I had been in Kyoto?"

"Guess some luck's on my side, then," he said.

"My—hell, come on, I've got a hotel room," you said. "You lot look like you've been to hell and back."

"Somethin' like that," the British man said.

"Shit," you mumbled once more, putting your hotel name back into your GPS. You had just come from there, but just in case, you didn't want to mess anything up. Especially not now. "Shit, dude, I don't even know your name—"

"Tangerine," he interrupted.

You blinked slowly as you began to walk. His friends follow behind.

"Like the fruit?" you question.

His friend snorted from behind the two of you. "Yeah, love, like the fruit."

You shrugged. "Codename?"

"Smart," Tangerine repeated, giving you a cheeky smile.

For someone who looked like he was in an immense amount of pain, he was sure cheerful.

You led them up to your hotel room, where the blonde immediately goes to the bathroom, running water in the sink and using it and a towel to try and clean some of the blood from his face.

Tangerine and the other, whom you now know as Lemon, sit on separate sides of the room—Lemon sits at the table and groans at the action, a hand on his side, while Tangerine sits on the edge of the bed.

There goes your plans to see the Nagoya Castle, but hell, this didn't seem like it would be anything you'd wanna miss out on. How often do you get three men in your hotel room like this?

Ah, fuck, scratch that—how often do you get a hot British man looking at you like that regardless of how beat up he currently looked?

You bit your lip and sit your phone on the dresser. "I, uh, my friend gave me a little kit of medicine and things before I left," you said, going to your open suitcase and pulling out a black bag. "Has like, bandaids and ibuprofen. Tums, maybe. I didn't even look to be honest."

You hand the bag to him.

Tangerine snorted softly, taking the bag from you and opening it up. You watch, seeing the scabs on his knuckles.

"Damn, what the hell happened to y'all?"

Tangerine glanced up at you, a small smile quirking on his lips. "All in due time," he said. "Don't think it's anything I wanna drag you into just yet."

You pursed your lips.

"Fuck," Tangerine mumbled. "This whole thing has been fuckin' bullocks," he said as he pulled out a couple of things from the kit.

"You can say that again," Lemon said, scoffing softly.

Tangerine tossed him a bottle of pain killers before he, himself, picked up a small bottle of antiseptic. "Be a doll and grab me a washcloth, yeah?"

You do as you're asked, moving past the blonde in the bathroom. He looked a bit worse for wear, but he seemed like he was doing far better than the other two.

You brought back the washcloth for Tangerine. "Can I help?"

"Nah, love, I'll be fine. Not the first time."

You grimaced. "Sounds painful."

"C'est la vie," Lemon said from where he sat, taking the unopened complementary water from the table and using it to take the pain killers. "You're a life saver, love."

"Hmm," you hummed, frowning softly as you looked at Tangerine.

He glanced up at you as he cleaned his knuckles. He had plenty of other places to clean, of course, but the idea of moving from his spot on the bed sounded like hell. His abdomen was screaming at him for just breathing.

"I never got your name," Tangerine softly said.

"Yeah," Lemon interjected. "Been callin' you his little American this whole time. Don't let him lie to you."

Tangerine blanched, glaring over at Lemon, before he looked up at you. "Maybe," he said. "Don't listen to him. He's a little shit-stirrer."

You smiled a bit. He's endearing if not... unconventional in his methods. Whatever that meant. You'd learn soon enough, it seemed.

You gave him your name.

He repeated it, and it was almost like heaven pouring from his lips as he spoke.

God, you'd have a hell of a time trying to explain this back home.

Tangerine snorted softly and finished cleaning up his knuckles—just on the one hand, though. He still had so much to get through.

"Must've made quite an impression if you come to Nagoya just to find me," you blurted, taking the bottle of antiseptic and the cloth from him. He didn't protest. He simply watched as you wet the other side of the cloth and took his hand in your own to clean his knuckles.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? The accent got me."

You blinked slowly, eyes flickering to his. "The accent?"

"Oh, yeah, love," he said. "Ladybug in there is an American, but you? It's like a whole other breed of American. I don't know if I can get enough of it."

Lemon scoffed and tossed the bottle of painkillers to his brother. "Stop flirting and let them clean your hand."

Tangerine rolled his eyes, watching your hands as they moved against his wounds.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

"Sorry? For what?"

"For not having anything to really help you," you said. "I'm sure it woulda helped if I had a first aid kit or somethin'."

He raised an eyebrow. "Think you would've been insane for havin' a first aid kit when you're traveling all alone," he said. "Who woulda thought you'd run into little ol' me?"

"Little ol' you, hm?"

Tangerine's soft smile is unmistakable, but you make no mention of it. You let go of his hand and he examined it, letting out a soft hum. You did well enough, he supposed.

Tangerine let out a soft groan as a pain rippled through his abdomen. He laid back on the bed without another word, a hand resting on his body. This would be a hell of a pain to heal, but he was sure it would happen soon enough.

"Sorry for barging in on you like that, love," Lemon spoke up. He drew your attention away from Tangerine. "Tangerine over there kept quippin' on and on 'bout how he just had to see you again. Thought he was a broken record or some shit with how often he said it."

The handsome man in front of you didn't even object this time. He just went with it.

"Right, yeah, and what were you sayin'? Hope they have a nice hotel room that fits all us, yeah?"

"Absolutely not," he scoffed. "Don't be a prick."

Tangerine rolled his eyes. "Lemon—"

"—anyway," Lemon interjected. "We'll be out of your hair as soon as we possibly can. Don't want to outstay our welcome, and I'm sure you've got plans, hm?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"—we won't stay long, promise."

"No, I—I mean I do have plans, but you can stay as long as you need to."

Tangerine snorted softly and glanced at you from where he laid on his bed. "You're rather trusting, aren't you?"

You blinked slowly. "Well—"

"—be careful, love," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "You should really watch yourself, before you get yourself into trouble."

You parted your lips, and the words escaped you before you even thought to stop them: "Think I'm a bit too late for all that."

[void-wolfie]

How'd You Do That?

summary: you have a panic attack right before your first premiere. [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

tw: panic attack, my terrible writing (let me know if I need to add anything)

words: 1.5k

a/n: this is one of the rare times where I can say it took me so long to get to a request because I had too many ideas. I was watching my favorite show the other day and they use this idea and I couldn't stop thinking of a Jenna x R scene with it (bonus points if you know what show it's based off of)

*disclaimer; please don't use this tactic to stop a panic attack, it could actually make things worse. I only wrote it like this because it's fiction and cute.

"You did it, kid,"

Those were the first words out of your dad's mouth when he called you.

You did it.

The words bounced around in your head, filling you with excitement and dread. There was a pit in your stomach, and you had the urge to puke, you weren't sure if that was a good thing or not.

You did it.

That was a year ago, news had just gotten out that you'd be in a new summer film, set to co-star with none other than Miss Jenna Ortega herself. At the time, you were a no-name actor. You'd been in a few small things here and there, a few supporting roles. But you were nothing compared to the young sensation herself.

You'd gotten a rocky start; you were an anxious mess at the start of filming. But who wouldn't be when they were sitting so close to their celebrity crush.

Somewhere along the way, the anxiety faded. She wasn't The Jenna Ortega anymore; she was just Jenna. She wasn't the actress you'd been looking up to since the start of your career, but a pretty girl with a million freckles and a love of dad jokes. She became your best friend. The girl you'd call at one am to confess all your worries to, the girl who'd call you every day and made sure you ate because sometimes you'd forget, the girl who didn't know a lick of Spanish yet could still pull off the most amazing accent, and the girl you would text first thing every morning.

You sat in the car, wringing your hands nervously.

You were supposed to get out of the car five minutes ago, but you couldn't. Your legs felt like Jello and your vision was spinning just a bit.

All that filming and it was finally the moment of truth. The day of the premiere. Would people like you? Would they like the movie? What if your acting was terrible? You'd never been to a premiere like this before, what if you embarrassed yourself? Or-

You were freaking out. You could hear your heartbeat thumping in your ears, erratically beating in your chest. It felt like someone had knocked the air out of you, squeezing your lungs and making it impossible to breathe. And your hands; they were clammy and cold, yet somehow also hot, and they wouldn't stop shaking.

Jenna was sitting next to you in the car, tinted windows hiding the two of you from the sea of flashing cameras outside. She had been through her fair share of premieres. She knew what to expect, she knew how to act and what to do. You on the other hand, you'd never been to one. She'd been watching you with worried eyes all day, watching as your anxiety built as the day went on.

"Hey, it's going to be alright," She grabbed your hands, interlocking your fingers with hers. She'd hoped the physical contact might help calm you, but it didn't seem to ease your nerves.

Your eyes flitted down to your hands interlaced with Jenna's, her black nail polish contrasting against her tan skin.

Being close to Jenna always made you feel better, yet it didn't seem to be helping this time.

Your anxiety was at an all-time high, crippling you from the inside out. Your throat squeezed a little tighter as if you weren't struggling to breathe enough already.

"I'll be right there with you the whole time, ok?" She squeezed your hands reassuringly, but it didn't do anything to quell the raging storm inside.

Your eyes traveled back to the window. The flashing lights, the reporters circling like ravenous vultures, the way the other actors were already out there making everything look so easy while you were in the midst of a breakdown... It was too much...

Your breathing got a little more ragged, shallow uneven breaths wracking your chest. You closed your eyes, focusing on just trying to calm down.

Jenna's eyebrows scrunched in confusion, watching the way your chest heaved and hands squeezed hers tighter. It only took her a few seconds to figure out what was happening, she wasn't any stranger to panic attacks.

"Breathe with me. In and out," She exaggerated her breathing, trying to encourage you to slow your own, "In and out,"

But you couldn't, no matter how hard you tried. The feeling of not being in control of something as simple as breathing made you panic even more.

"I- I can't-"

"Hey, look at me," you felt her finger under your chin, tilting your face to look at her. But you made sure to keep your eyes shut. You didn't want to look into those big brown eyes and show her just how vulnerable you were, you'd rather suffocate.

"y/n, please," her voice cracked ever so slightly, composure dropping for just a split second. She was worried about you. Worried about how you were spiraling out of control, and you wouldn't let her help.

Her mind was blank, not sure what to do. She had one idea left, though she wasn't sure if it'd help or make things entirely worse, "I have an idea, do you trust me?"

If this backfired... Well, she didn't want to think about that.

You nodded, still attempting to calm down. Your nerves felt like they were on fire as you struggled to breathe, your heartbeat still thumping loudly in your ears.

A second passed. Then two. You were about to open your eyes to see what bright idea Jenna had when a pair of lips smashed against yours.

The whole world stopped. All you could focus on was the pair of soft lips pressed against yours and the warm hand cupping your cheek.

Wow.

She pulled away and the world stood still.

Everything felt quiet. That nagging voice in the back of your skull wasn't there. The sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears had dimmed. Even the sound of the crowds outside seemed much smaller.

Jenna didn't think her idea would work. But you already seemed a bit better. Your hands had stopped shaking so violently and your breathing had mostly returned to normal.

"y/n?" Now Jenna was the one panicking. What if she just ruined your friendship? She couldn't lose you...

Your mind was strangely quiet for once. And you were only aware of two things. Firstly, wow. Secondly, do it again.

"y/n?" Jenna's voice finally pulled you from whatever trance you were in.

"Would it be wrong, to ask you to do that again?" Your eyes were still closed. Part of you was scared to open them again. What if you opened them and she wasn't there? What if it was all just a dream?

Jenna wasn't sure how to answer that. Would it be wrong? The two of you were coworkers after all. But she didn't really care.

It took her a second to think about what you were asking, and even less than that to throw the question out the window and kiss you again.

It was soft, simple, and sweet. It was everything you could ever ask for from a second kiss.

The minute Jenna pulled away all you could think of was the missing warmth. The way it felt like finding your other half just to be ripped apart.

Silence filled the air, neither of you sure who would speak first.

"How'd you do that?" You finally relaxed, opening your eyes to find her big brown ones looking back, full of concern and adoration.

"Do what?"

"You stopped my panic attack,"

"I read somewhere that getting someone to hold their breath can stop a panic attack, when I kissed you, you held your breath," you couldn't help but notice the small blush spread across her cheeks.

"Did you mean it? Like, did you want to kiss me?"

"Would it be wrong of me to say I did?"

Your eyes lit up. She wanted to kiss you? Does that mean she likes you?

Shouting and cheering from outside caught the attention of you and Jenna, heads darting over to the window to watch the cheering crowds outside; all of them oblivious to what just happened between you and your co-star.

"We have to go, don't we?" You were a bit disappointed. You didn't want to leave the safety of the car, you wanted to talk this out with Jenna.

"Unfortunately," Jenna noticed the pout that took over your features, the way you gripped her hand a bit tighter for comfort, "But I'll be right there the whole time, ok? And we can even leave early if you want."

You nodded, still not exactly happy to be going, but going with Jenna was better than going solo.

Jenna pushed open the car door. Instantly flashing lights and people calling yours and Jenna's names filled the air. You could feel the anxiety bubbling up again. But just as quickly as it started, it went away. Jenna's hand gave yours a little squeeze, reminding you she was right there.

[whirligig-girl]

The S282 from the train sim game Derail Valley, interpreted as a prop built in the first two or three seasons of Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends.

I tried to imagine how a prop builder would actually put something like this together on a children's TV series budget. Like the other original props, this one uses kitbashed parts from Marklin model trains as well as plastic card bodies and sculpted faces. The chassis is taken from a Marklin BR55 0-8-0 and the pilot and trailing wheels, and cylinders, modified from a Marklin BR78.

There are some design changes to make it just look more Thomas, like the thomas style headlamp, the flat prominent buffer beam, and the blocky red-sided footplate. The geometry has been simplified as it needed to be made out of folded, bent, and cut plastic card.

More details and alternate versions under the cut:

The actual locomotive as it appears in Derail Valley: Simulator. Note the much larger cylinders. They could have built more proportional cylinders--they did so when they built Murdoch in season 7, but I wanted it to fit in better with Henry and Gordon.

The valve gear shown is accurate to the BR55, not to the BR78 Gordon and Henry use nor the game model (which has much thicker rods)

Other details, like the air pump (not needed on sodor, which seems to use vacuum brakes), bell, and dynamo (again, not used on sodor) have been removed. The ladder detail on the running board has been simplified. A cowcatcher is not needed, but i kept it as more or less the only obviously foreign feature of the engine. The electric headlamp on the top of the S282's smokebox has been replaced with a white

The S282's tender is a four wheel tender on a pair of freight car trucks. The thomas version is a six wheel tender based on Gordon and Henry's.

The livery was changed to make it feel more Sodor. The sides of the running board were painted red, and red lining was added to the boiler bands, cab, and tender. And 282 was given as a number on the tender, in red-lined yellow text. The wheels retain the red paint of the model that contributed their wheels, but dulled a bit by weathering. The game model has black wheels with white walls and red counterweights, but that didn't look right with the small counterweights on most of the wheels and the one single large counterweight on the number three axle.

With so many red accents, the loco bears more than a passing resemblance to Hiro from the cgi series, though this is only a coincidence.

Here's a variant with a game-accurate livery. No striping, and the wheel spokes are black with white walls and red counterweights.

Here are squeaky clean versions of both liveries.

and here are NWR green, blue, and red variants. I actually made a texture pack for the previous major version of Derail Valley, before they updated the model and the UV maps changed. (obviously my texture pack did not go so far as to add faces)

Final variant, the ES&DT version. [sniff sniff] can you hear a guitar riff slowly building tempo?

[maybeeatspaghetti]

Alright, here are the CBorle mentions in Spamalot Diaries:

‘However, there are many pluses. Christian Borle, the young man playing Prince Herbert, a newcomer to many, is quite brilliant. He is a really funny guy. In fact, the cast is impeccable. Steve Rosen is hilarious as Galahad's mother. Despite a wander across the north of England, ending up in Scotland for the accent of Doug Sills, Christian is quite benevolent and well-meaning and he draws lots of laughs. He has charm and what John Du Prez calls "a delightful swagger."’ Pg 54

‘She chose an epic day to come to rehearsal, as she witnessed a rather dramatic scene. Mike greeted her with joy and sat her behind us at the table, where we were watching Doug Sills failing to be amusing with young Christian Borle as Prince Herbert. One day, lad, all this will be yours. What, the curtains? No, not the curtains, lad… While Doug was fine as the rather vain Sir Galahad, he could never get anywhere close to Michael Palin's Father of Prince Herbert role, neither the Yorkshire accent nor the gradually mounting frustration. He seemed only able to go straight to rage. Mike gives me a worried glance, and then suddenly and without warning Doug begins slapping Christian around. Real hard slaps, until Christian says, "Whoa, stop that! Time out." There is a moment of stunned silence in the room. A shocked Casey says, "Take five, everyone" People stand around confused. What just happened? Mike walks me over to the big window for a private talk. "What do you think?" he says. "Well, if I work with him, I think I can help him with the Yorkshire accent," I suggest. "No. I'm going to fire him," says Mike. "Might as well do it now." And he does. Just like that. Takes him out to lunch and Doug doesn't return. I love that about Mike. He doesn't tolerate anything for long.‘ Pg 81

“We move from the strong powerful voice of Tim and the sweetness of Michael's Patsy through the silliness of Christian (a uniquely gifted clown), to the magnificent control of David, who is cheered to the rafters for his amazingly deft and delicate and hilarious rendition of "You Won't Succeed on Broadway." Add the charm of Hank, the sweetness and confident lunacy of Steve, and top it with the amazing genius of Sara, and it is a heady recipe.” Pg 95

‘Wow. Spamalot was a triumph. Its first public dress rehearsal last night opened to prolonged, triumphant laughter… They adored "I Am Not Dead Yet”, and Christian throughout was a hit.’ Pg 100

“Prince Herbert was hilarious, largely because Christian is so funny.” Pg 102

‘On the way into the hotel my flight for the next day was already showing canceled, so I canceled my car—I knew I was going nowhere Saturday. Best see the show again. Which I did (twice); and to give myself a little fillip, I suggested to Christian that I come on as the Historian at the start of act 2, then he could come on and tell me to "fuck off." He liked that idea. Peter, the stage manager, was nuts about it, so I dressed up in the second costume, with the Historian's tweed jacket and waistcoat and bow tie, and stepped out onto the stage. Most of the cast was in the wings. I wasn't sure what the reaction would be, but I could never have expected how it was: the audience went absolutely crazy, there was a roar and then applause and then cheering and then a standing ovation. They wouldn't stop. I didn't know what to do. I tried to deadpan my way through and hope they'd stop so I could say my one line. But they wouldn't. In the end I had to smile and nod and recognize them, and even then they wouldn't stop; so I gestured for about a minute for them to quieten. Only then could I say my line. Then there was Christian standing next to me with hands on hips. "Fuck off, Idle," he said and I exited meekly to roars of laughter. "Everyone wants to be a comedian," he ad-libbed.... But it sure started act 2 with a wallop and the cast were overjoyed. "Thanks for waking them up," said Tim and David.’ Pg 140

‘NOTES: At the top of act 2, Eric Idle appeared as a Faux Historian in his own costume. He began the Historian's speech to loud cheers and applause from the audience, and was then interrupted (planned) by Christian, who said, "Fuck off, Idle." Eric promptly, obediently, left the stage-again to great cheers.’ Pg 143

“What Mike did was to find the very best and finest. Casey was a brilliant call. His first gig, too. Sara is about to be a star, Christian Borle is a comedy genius, Hank is a pillar of laughs, and Christopher Sieber, who came in at just the right time, is extraordinary. Mike is probably the best casting director in the business.” Pg 167

These are awesome ✨

Thanks for sharing!!

[iheartvelma]

Via Justin Barba on FB:

“So my brother's girlfriend almost got deported today checking into her flight back to Missoula from a few days in Las Vegas.

She's a naturalized United States citizen who moved here from Thailand when she was 13. She's lived in Missoula for 19 years, but as many of you know, she's got a thick accent and is obviously not a US native.

Right before she left on Monday, she lost her driver's license. She scrambled around, got a temporary license, and filled out forms with the TSA in Missoula before flying.

They assured her she'd be legal to fly both ways, but as it turns out, she wasn't.

At the TSA checkpoint in Las Vegas this morning, the agent told her that according to their new protocol because of Trump's executive orders, they're supposed to deport anyone without ID who also appears to be a non-native American. (Edited to add that I think this meant non-native speakers of American English, and most likely non-white people).

He was supposed to take her into custody and said they would deport her to some other country.

Luckily, after 30 minutes on the phone and on hold with some other officials, he told her to get the fuck out of the airport right away and to rent a car or take the bus to get back to Missoula. They warned her that ICE agents are patrolling the airport looking for people to grab.

The good news is that she's in a car heading this way.

But WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK is going on here?

She's a US citizen. She's got rights, even if she only had an expired license, a temp license, and TSA paperwork from Missoula.

She is lucky that her friend decided not to take the flight home on her own, and they rented a car.

This sure sounds like the beginning of every dystopian movie ever, especially when you add in everything else going on.

I copied in Josh Barba's post since it's not shareable.

Edited to add that after 14 hours driving through winter weather, they made it home safely. I didn't tag her in this so she can decide on her own how to move forward. She needs to get in front of a news camera.”

Now would be the best time to get all your documentation in order. Passports, visas, state IDs, drivers’ licenses, SSN cards, birth certificates, your physical Green Card if you have it, your Certificate of Citizenship or Naturalization, etc.

Make sure you have photocopies and/or scans of all of these, and store anything you don’t carry with you in a fireproof locked box.

[weikipedia]

The Elopement

Chapter One

Weiki X OC

Word count: 3K

Warning(s): Age gap relationships, smoking, swearing etc

Plot: When Sky got the news her sister was getting eloped to Kai Hansen, she races to Teneifer to stop it. While trying to find her she meets Weiki, and chaos unfolds.

I know I'm too late. I know she's already walked down the aisle and is married to him. It was pointless to come all this way. I had to try, though. I had to try and stop it.

I'm lost in Tenerife, the largest of the Canary Islands. That’s about all I know about this place. My phone is dead, so I can't even pull up my sister's address.

Fuck.

Why the hell was I elected for this? Out of he seven of us, I'm the least organized and level-headed. I’m wildly impulsive. Then again, maybe that, coupled with the fact that I’m currently unemployed, is why I'm here. I could pick up and go on such short notice.

Twenty-four hours ago, I was happily back home trying to figure out my life post-Ph.D graduation. I was trying to find a job and move out of my sister's house when we got the message from Dana.

It wasn't like her—she's not like me. She's level-headed, a rock, and never does anything without thinking it through. Yet she was getting eloped to someone we’d never even met. Someone who might I add is 30 years older than her.

When she moved here a year ago, I was happy for her. She deserved a fresh start. She’d spend her 20s looking after us after our parents died. She deserved to follow her dream and teach English abroad. Now I'm not so sure how to feel.

He had a weird name too. I only remember it because I thought that it didn't sound very Spanish. Kai Hansen. Kai also stood out to me you don't hear many people over 40 named Kai.

I have no phone battery. I know no one here except my sister and I have no place to stay. I left in hurry thinking I could stop the wedding. Then I figured I'd go to my sisters place and crash for the night. Only now I don't have anyway of going there, I have no idea if she’ll be there and I have no idea if she’ll even want to see me considering why I came. In hindsight this whole plan has been ridiculous.

This might be the most insane thing I've ever done. Which says alot considering I went to Wacken once with like 60 dollars to my name. At least that time I had it all planned out. This time I have nothing. I might be sleeping in my car. Its already like seven in the evening. I mean the sun setting.

I jump as I hear someone knocking on the window.

I look out the window in shock and see a man standing there in the glow of the setting sun. He's smoking a cigarette. He has long brown hair, styled in a side part. His eyes are a striking blue.

I roll down my window, silently praying this man speaks English.

“I’m so sorry.” I apologize, figuring he's upset I parked on the street. This is a residential area after all.

“I’m just lost, I came here to find my sister and stop her marriage, I'm too late and now I might be sleeping in my car.”

I really didn't need to drop all this on this random man now part of me hopes he doesn't speak English.

“Thats…you came here with no plan?” He replies giving me a quizzical look.

He has a strong accent. Its not Spanish though. It might be German or maybe one of the Scandinavian languages.

“Well I had a plan kind of.” I try and defend myself but come on now I didn't come here with a plan. I came here with an idea, one that didn't work out.

“Who am I kidding no I didn't.”

He stares at me blankly for a moment. Then take one of his long fingers and points to my phone.

“Is that dead?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“Do you know where you sister lives?” He asks next, I can see the cogs moving in his mind.

“Not off the top of my head.” I tell him, “I also don't know her number.”

“What’s you sisters name and who is she marrying?” He asks next taking a drag of his cigarette. He's clearly trying to help me find a solution to this.

“Her name is Dana Blix, his name is Kia Hansen,” I inform him, being thankful in that moment this guy had a name that stood out to me.

“Kai Hansen?” He sounds taken aback by me saying that name.

“Yeah, I didn't think it sounded very Spanish.” I comment, as a response to his clear surprise.

“It’s because he's not. He's German.” He informs me, “I know him well. I didn't know he was getting married.”

Kai being German makes a lot more sense. I guess that means this guy is most likely German as well.

“I think it was an impulsive decision.” I tell him, “I found out last night.”

“He doesn't even live here.” I was not expecting him to say that next.

“What? Where does he live then and why is he here?” I'm shocked. This information makes everything way more confusing.

“He lives in Europe right now.” He tells me, sounding just as confused as I feel. “He’s here working.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s one of the guitarists in my band.” He drops another bomb I wasn't expecting. His long hair makes sense now.

“What band are you in?” I mean that is the next logical question.

I am a huge metalhead. As I mentioned before I've been to countless metal festivals. I've seen alot of European bands. The issue is I have seriously bad face blindness. I could have very well seen this man play live and have no memory of what he looks like.

“Helloween.” He replies casually as if he's is not in one of the biggest German metal bands, also credited for creating power metal.

I did in fact see them live. I wasn't close to the stage in my defence. So its not like I could get a good look at anyones faces. I just remember being floored they had seven members up on that stage. They kicked ass.

“Hmmm I saw you guys live once, great show.” I comment, before asking, “How long as he been here then?”

“A week.” He replies taking another drag before adding “I’m happy you liked the show.”

“So she’s made this decision with in a week.” I mumble. “What the hell is going on?”

“Well he was here a few months ago as well.” He adds, “I live here and so does one of the singers, so we do alot of work on the island.”

“Well my sister has lived here for a year.” I respond, things are starting to piece together a bit more.

She probably met him when he first came to the island a few months ago. They kept in touch. He came back and now they got married. He's probably planning on taking her to Europe with him. That would make sense. It would also explain the rush.

“I do know where he’ll be tomorrow.” He tells me.

“You do?”

“Well unless he cancels he’ll be in the studio with me.” He informs me, “I can take you with me.”

“That would be great actually.” I reply, “I might try and get ahold of my sister.”

“I’m Sky by the way.”

“I’m Michael Weikath.” He replies, “If you want you can come in and charge your phone.”

“You wouldn't mind?”

“No.” He waves it off, “You need help. I can help.”

“You aren't wrong.” I reply, Grabbing my carry on. And getting out of the car and locking the door.

Its a typical Spanish style two story house. With the terracotta roof tiles and smooth white exterior. The front garden has a few tropical-looking bushes and flowers in it, but you can tell they are naturally occurring. He isn't out here looking after the plants.

He opens the front door to his house and lets me step in first.

The first thing I'm hit with is the sent of cigarettes. Which shouldn't surprise me since when I met the man twenty minutes ago he was smoking.

The entranceway is rather empty. No photos on the wall of decorations of any kind. I half exspected to be greeted which his platinum reccord placks. Then again he seems very humble.

He leads me into the living room. The first thing that hits me is how none of the pieces of furniture match. It looks like he went to a thrift store and bought whatever was available. Its all varias shades of brown. There is no coherent style what so ever.

He has a cluttered booksleve on one wall. It has books, tapes and some random nicknacks all over it. In the center of the room is a round mid mid-century modern coffee table. It has an ashtray and some papers scattered over it.

Up against the couch sits a bright blue flying v in a guitar stand. Its brilliant blue colour standing out against the rather bland colour scheme. It's a gorgeous guitar. I vaguely remember seeing it and thinking the same thing when I saw Helloween live.

He has a flats screen tv cross from the couch. Its presence seeming wrong among the outdated nature of the rest of the furniture.

If I didn't already guess it, the way this place is decorated definitely confirms it. He's for sure single. No women is living in a house decorated like this.

I will give him that aside from the clutter and ashtrays, its relatively clean. Most of the single men’s house I've been to are filthy. Mind you those were mostly frat boys but still.

He takes the guitar and moves it to in front of the book shelf making space for me to sit on the sofa.

“Can I see your charger?” He ask me holding out his hand for me to drop it into.

I reach into my bag and pull out my charger handing it to him.

He looks at the plug end and then the part that plugs into my phone.

“This is the wrong…ummmmm…we call it Stecker in German.” The English word escaping him.

“Plug?” I guess.

“Yeah, plug.” He nods.

“Damn it.” I sigh, I mean I know they use a different type of plug in other parts of the world. I've travelled before hell I have an adaptor. I didn't bring it in my rush of course.

“You can use mine.” Michael offers, “We have the same cable type.”

“Okay, thank you.” I reply thanking god we do.

He disappears around the corner and comes back holding the charger. He unplugs a lamp be has plugged in on a side table next to the sofa. Then he plugs the charger to the wall. I then take my phone and plug it in, before sitting down on the couch.

“Is this out of character for you sister?” Michael asks me, taking a seat next to me.

“Yes.” I tell him, “Thats part of why I came. She's the reliable one. I have six sisters, I'm right in the middle. She's the second olest. She’s always been the rock. I'm the impulsive one, not her.”

“Hmmm.” He seems to be taking in my words.

“How long have you known Kai?” I ask out of curiosity.

“Forty years.” Michael tells me, “I wasn't always speaking with him, but I am now.”

“Intresting he never mentioned this to you.” I comment, “I mean don't you need witnesses?”

“Eh, just because he didn't tell me doesn't mean it didn't tell anyone else in the band.” Michael points out.

“True, and since my sister lives here she might know people anyways. So they might not have needed to go to the band for witnesses.” I consider.

“If he was going to go to anyone, it would probably be Andi or Markus.” Michael informs me, “They’re both happily married and believe in love.”

“Are you saying you don't?” I ask. I mean he's unmarried in his 60s so I can pretty much guess the answer.

“Do you see a wife?” He replies.

“Fair enough.” I say, “I’m not so sure I do either.”

“If you want I can message the two of them to see if they know anything.” Michael offers.

“Sure.” I shrug, “Anything helps at this point.”

He takes out his phone and starts messages them. While he does that I take click on my phone it has charge now. I have message from my older sister Angelica asking if I've been successful or not.

I’ll reply to that once I have something to report. First things first. I’m going to call Dana. I'm more than sure she won't answer. I mean she's probably avoiding our calls.

I have to try anyway. Part of me hopes she picks up so I can stay with her and her new husband. Otherwise i’ll be sleeping in my car. I highly doubt I can find a place to stay on such short notice. Its fine though. I've spend the night in worse places then my car.

I call Dana.

It doesn't even ring. It goes to voicemail. Meaning she has her phone off. Lovely.

I hang up.

“No luck?” Michael asks me.

“Her phone is off,” I reply, “I guess i’ll be sleeping in my car tonight.”

“You didn't book a place to stay?” Michael sounds slightly concerned by that idea.

“Nope.” I admit, “Listen I was in a panic I didn't think any of this through.”

“You can stay here.” He offers, I wasn't expecting that.

“I don't want to put you out.” I respond, I'm the idiot who didn't plan this isn't on him.

“You aren’t.” Michael insists, “I can't let you sleep on the street.”

“Fine.” I sigh, it sure beats sleeping in my car right?

“Thank you.”

“It’s what any decent person would do.” Michael waves it off like it's no big deal.

His phone starts ringing and he looks at the screen.

“It’s Andi.” He tells me, picking up the call and putting it on speaker.

“Speak in English, you’re on speaker and her sister is here.” Michael tell the man on the other side.

“Okay.” He replies at the end, “This is what I know. He asked me a few days ago about a good jewelry place off hand. I didn't think much of it because he wears jewelry. Then I saw him out with a girl later that night. I didn't recognize her. I figured he probably bought her something.”

“At least he bought her a ring.” I mumble under my breath.

“Now yesterday after the reccording session he comes to me and tells me he's getting married tomorrow. I was shocked but I congratulated him. He asked me to be a witness. I agreed. It was the same girl from before who I'm assuming is her sister. She was American her name was Dana.” He continues.

“Yeah that's my sister.” I sigh,

“They got married a few hours ago, sorry.” Andi apologizes to me, its not his fault.

“It’s okay, you didn't know,” I reply, “Thank you.”

“It’s problem.” He replies, “Are you taking her to the studio tomorrow Weiki?”

“I am yeah.” Michael replies, “We’ll see you then.”

“I’ll see you then.” He says before hanging up.

“I guess I'm meeting my new brother in law tomorrow.” I sigh, “I wonder if he’ll bring Dana.”

“We’ll see tomorrow.” Michael Shrugs, “I don't think i’ll get much done in the studio.”

“I'm sorry.” I apologize, I feel bad for slowing down their recording process.

“It has to be done.” Michael tells me, “It’s okay.”

“Thanks for being so understanding.” I reply, he's being very kind to me. He doesn't have to be but he is. I really owe him one.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles back, he has a cute smile actually.

“Am I sleeping on the couch?” I ask, I'm getting pretty tired. I travelled all day and I want to be sharp for tomorrow.

“No, you can take my bed.” Michael tells me, and like hell I can.

I'm an unexpected guest i’ll take the couch. Not to mention he’s older I don't want him to break his back or something sleeping on an uncomfortable bed.

“No I’ll take the couch its fine.”

“No. You will take the bed.” He’s being very firm on this, damn this man is as stubborn as me.

“Fine, but I don't want you to hurt your back or something.” I sigh rolling my eyes.

“I’m old but I'm not that old.” He replies, “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, I’ll sleep in your bed.” I sigh, accepting that this is how its going to be.

“You’re stubborn aren't you?” He comments.

“Yes.” I confirm, “It's a long day, where’s your bedroom?”

“A new one for me a women looking for my bedroom.” He jokes, as he leads me up to his room.

“Ha ha very funny.” I respond rolling my eyes.

He flicks on the light.

The room has the same mismatched none aesthetic as the rest of the house. With a large dark wood bed in the middle of the room. Surprisingly its actually made. The bedding has a godey pattern on it. Its god awful ugly actually. This man has no taste in interior design. Then again he's a German man in his 60’s what do I expect?

I dig into my carry on. I didn't think id be here long so I packed lightly. I might come to regret that, like I've come to regret most rash decisions I've made to get here.

I pull out pieces of clothes I shoved into the bag last night. I set a pair of my panties and my bra on his bed. Its not like it matters, they aren't black lace or something. Just regular plan old black. Nothing sexy about it.

Michael is behind me digging through a laundry basket of cleans clothes. I'm half exspecting him to make a comment about it, he doesn't though.

“Is that all you brought?” He points to my carry on.

“I’ve survived on less than this before.” I tell him, one time I made two outfits last a whole week. This is nothing.

“So you take impulsive trips alot?” He comments.

“Never as impulsive as this, I mean I do plan those out months in advance, I just forget what to pack a lot of the time.” I admit, I'm not good at remembering or not packing last-minute.

“You sure you've never gotten married in Vegas or something?” Michael jokes, “I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“Not to my knowledge.” I reply, “Then again who knows I did get black out drunk in Vegas once. Its your house take your time.”

My 21st birthday. That was a time. Thank god my sisters where with me so they stopped me from doing anything stupid, first and only time.

I figured I have enough time to quickly change since Michael disappear into the bathroom. I quickly slip my bra off from under the t-shirt I'm wearing and change my jeans for pyjama pants. I start putting all my stuff back into my carry-on bag, when Michael re-appears.

“All yours.” He says, walking over and picking up the book on the nightstand. It looks like some fantasy type book. Judging by the cover, with a dragon on it. Its been along time since I've seen someone read a physical book. I mean aside from a $200 textbook when I was in university.

Then again it's been along time since I've seen someone smoke real cigarettes and not Vape. I think smoking real cigarettes makes you infinitely cooler and less douchy. I mean they are both going to kill you eventually, rather smell a real cigarette then the fake fruit none sense.

“Good book?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“It's okay.” He shrugs, “I started it so now I need to know how it ends.”

“Fair enough.” I reply, “Good night.”

“Good night.” He replies leaving the room, and shutting the door behind him.

I turn off the light then flop down on the bed. It might be the ugliest comforter I've ever seen but it's soft and the bed is surprising comfortable. I close my eyes and the blackness of sleep takes over in no time.

[silvermare]

If you know me outside of Tumblr, don't tell my mom

I said goodbye to my old car last night. Vivid green 2012 Hyundai Accent hatchback. That thing had stellar fuckin gas mileage (for a non-hybrid anyway, I could squeeze like 40mpg out of it if I tried), hauled around way too much shit, played FAFO with black ice, was stolen in Amarillo, TX and recovered south of Oklahoma City, OK - and for context, I live in Indianapolis - back in 2018, and transported many friends and even some coworkers. It also has had kernels of dry field corn in the floorboard for the past two years. Oh, and I broke the frickin passenger side mirror by backing out of the garage too close.

Her name was Arachnaverde because she was green and I kept an anatomically incorrect spider skeleton (halloween decoration) on the dashboard. Spood's job was to let me know when I was taking a turn too fast. He would skitter away if I did.

Prior to Arachnaverde, I had a 1994 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme that I called Madame Blueberry. She was a lovely teal color, had two doors, and I once forgot an entire watermelon in the back floorboard in college and it rotted and stank so badly. -4/10 do not recommend. Also her trunk had loose soybeans from when I took a few dried soybean plants for some reason or another. ADHD be like that sometimes.

Prior to Madame Blueberry, I had an unnamed charcoal gray 89 Mercury Grand Marquis. This car had one interesting anecdote, and 3 notable events.

In the long long ago when I was still in junior college (2 year college for people who live in states that don't fuck with junior colleges), I left it overnight in the college parking lot for some reason I no longer recall. When I retrieved it in the morning, someone had used car window paint to write "HOOPTY" on the back windshield. To be fair, it was.

That car was how I learned not to leave a can of silly string in a hot car. Did you know if a can of silly string gets hot enough it will straight up explode? I didn't until I found a really messy plastic bag and blue spatters all over the roof of my car.

I used to park under a specific tree in front of the house, because I lived with my parents on a farm, and the garage was for my mom's vehicle, no one else's. Dad's main ride parked in the patch of ground between the barnyard fence and the garage (dad's parking spot, mostly), and the farm truck parked in the barnyard. Anyway, point is, I parked under a tree which worked quite well for many years except at the very end a large fragment of dead tree pierced my car *right* in front of the hood so I had a rough rectangle of Missing Car for the tail end of my ownership.

Anyway, I've known for months that I needed to get a new car. Needed new front struts, a replacement sensor in the steering column, new back brakes, new front tires.... I tried back in May but for some reason the car I found just didn't vibe with me (Mitsubishi Mirage). It was kinda noisy, very basic. Also very cheap.

Last week, the stars aligned and I found a hopeful prospect with low mileage, decent mpg, and within my budget.

So now I have a new-to-me brick of tofu (white Kia Soul 2020).

I have said my farewells to the green beast, and look forward to what kind of adventures I'll get into with the as-of-yet-unnamed toaster.

So far the best name I've come up with is Tofungus because I am awful. I definitely want to give it a black horizontal stripe and add the "Fujiwara Tofu Shop" decal to the side because i'm a fuckin weeb and also did you know there's a sequel to Initial D this season? I'm enjoying it.

[mint-moon25]

HATE - CENTIMETERS - AS

MEASUREMENT - GOOGLE

SEARCH - CONVERT 2 INCH

MIDDLE - SMALL - BOTTOM

REST - 4 - SOIL - AREA

FOR - WAGON - FOLDED THE

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ANOTHER - USE - 4 - OUR

HAND - WASHABLES - SO

MIAMI - IKEA

GO - IN MORNING - THEY

OPEN - 10A - INCLUDING

SWEDISH - RESTAURANT

MEATBALLS - FAMOUS

IKEA - DAILY - EVEN YES

PRESIDENT's - DAY

SELF - SERVICE CHECK

OUT - NO - CASH KIOSK

IKEA - MIAMI

10A - 9P - DAILY

CAFE - 10A - 8P

IKEA - IS - HEALING LOVE

THEIR - HUGE - MIRRORS

BLK - WOOD - SIDES

$79.99

2 - MANY - EXPENSIVE

NOT - COMPARED - TO

ONLINE - EVEN PRIME

WILL - CHECK - AGAIN

MY - FAUX - FUR

WAS - IT - ALWAYS

$!4.99

20 X 20 - IKEA PILLOW

STILL - $7

RED - SMALL - NOT

AUTO - UMBRELLA

SWEDEN - $6.99

IKEA - IS - SWEDEN

BEEN - THERE YES

STONEWARE - BY - SWEDEN

4 PINKS - 4 - SOUPS

$14.99

BUT BAMBOO - NICE ROUND

SALAD - FRESH KITCHEN

LIKE - BOWL - TERIYAKI TOO

$15.99

NICE - BAMBOO - TRAY

$14.99

SAME - PINK - STONEWARE

SMALL - CUP - OVER - $1.00

SWEDEN's - IKEA

SO - AWESOME - PRICES

FOUND - LONG - CHAIR

SO - EASY - 2 - CONTROL

FAST - TURN - AROUND

AS - SITTING - WONDER

CHAIR - WITH WHEELS

BLK - ORANGE - ACCENT

BACK - PROTECTED AND

HIGH - CHAIR - $89.99

FAST - L 2 R - TURN ROUND

SUPER - FAST - EASY - 2 XO

MANUEVER - SO - COOL

4 - TABLE - L AND R - YES

MODERN - DESIGN THEIR

MICKE - BOY's - NAME

BLK - PLUS - ADD WHEELS

4 - DRAWERS - FILES - TOO

MAIN - DESK - 2 DRAWERS

LARGE - $89.99

SMALL - $39.99 OR $49.99

SAME - ONES - I - SAW

GETTING - MICKE - ONES

IKEA - KNOWN - 4 - TRUE

BEAUTIFUL - BLKS - AND

GORGEOUS - WHITES

SLIDING - DOORS - 4 OUR

WARDROBE - THEY'RE - A

WHITE & BLK - AWESOME

BEAUTY - STARK - WHITE

STATELY - BLKS - SO HOT

PRICES - COOLEST DO U

SHOP - ONLINE

SHOP - CITI - FURNITURE

CRATE & BARREL

ALL - ARE - EXPENSIVE

IKEA - OUR - GOAL YES

BED - CITI FURNITURE

HEADBOARD - BAMBOO

SHEETS - FAUX - FUR ITS

CITI - FURNITURE

2ND FLOOR

MIDTOWN - MIAMI

REMOTE - THERAPEUDIC

QUEEN - $1,999.99 - THAT

GREAT - SLEEP NUMBER

BELOW - THEM - TRUE

$2,999.99 - $5,999.99

SO - WE'RE - GETTING

KOREAN - GIRLS, GOT

USED - 2 - OTHER's YES

AUDACITY - WITH TRUE

BAD - ITEMS - FEELS FL

TERRIBLE - YESTERDAY

MY - SOFA - CHOICE

SOLD - OUT SO SAD

AFTER - CHECK OUT

R SIDE - THEIR EXPRESS

FOOD - NEW - PRICES

THIN SMALL - HOT DOG

NOT - MANHATTAN - NY

NEW - PRICE - $0.75

U - PUT - HOTDOG AND

MUSTARD - WE - NEED

PUSH CART - MANHATTAN

NEW YORK - RED - ONION

SAUCE - SOFT - BREADS 2

THEIR - HOT DOGS WORLD

BEST - WARM - DELICIOUS

24/7 - ATE - 'OVER' - 2,500

NO - DOESN'T TASTE LIKE

THAT - BUT - ADEQUATE

DIDN'T - LIKE - CINNAMON

BUNS - BUS 11 - WAS SLOW

DURING - PEAK - HRS - YES

3P - 4P - BEST - TIME TRUE

FASTER - MORNINGS SO U

ARE - THERE - AT - 10A

BEST - TIME - DRIVER NOT

2 - MANY - STOPS LOTS OF

PEOPLE - FOUND - OUT

LOUD - MOUTHS - FAR - 2

THE - SIDE - SW 2 AV - YES

U - CAN - WALK - BRIDGE

FR - SW 3 ST - 2 - BRICKELL

MAYBE - WERE - NOT - YES

SLEEPING - THERE - LAST

NIGHT - SO - THEY - CAN'T

COMPLAIN - ABOUT - MY

LOVE - SONGS - WEIRDOS

'F' - WORD - EVERY OTHER

BLK - MALE - WITH THEM

HE - STOPPED - MIAMI

POLICE - CAR ABOUT HIM

HIS - SISTER - FIGHT'G

THAT - FOREIGN - BLK

MALE - WHO - GAVE ME

EXPENSIVE - 7-ELEVEN

CHEESE - PIZZA - 2 - YES

WHITE - FAT - MALE WHO

IS - REALLY - A - WOMAN

HE - WEARS - BRAS

HIS - SISTER - AND - HIM

BAD - MOUTHS

SO HE - STOPPED POLICE

ABOUT - HIM - NOTHING

HAPPENED - BUT - BOTH

MOVED - TOGETHER AND

THEIR - TENTS - NEXT TO

EACH - OTHER - FIGHTS

EACH - ONE - BUT STAYS

TOGETHER - SO - 4 WILL

LEAVE - 4 - BOSTON MA

APRIL - PLEASE - NOW

LEFT - ME - SMALL PINK

BROWN - PLUSH - CUTE

GOING - 2 - IKEA - WAS

TOTALLY - HEALING - 2

BUT - I - WANT MY YES

OWN - SOUNDPROOF

INSTALLATION - WE HAVE

FREE - DESIGNERS - 2 YES

HELP - REDESIGN - YOUR

HOUSES - APTS - I WANT

MY - OWN - 24/7 - OPEN

WAREHOUSE - TRULY FL

DEAR - KOREAN - GIRLS,

CREATED - BY - MY - YES

TOKYO - JAPAN - MALE

SCIENTISTS - BEST APPS

TENTATIVE - NAME

SMART HOME - STORE

MANY - FLOORS

HARVARD - LAW

APARTMENT - RIGHTS

FUTURE - 14TH - REVISED

'WITH DUE - PROCESS OF

LAW' - REVOKED

NO - LIFE - IMPRISONMENT

NO - EXECUTION

NO - KILL - SHELTERS - NO

LEASH - CATS - AND DOGS

NO - EVICTION

NO - REPOSSESSION

NO - FORECLOSURE

THUS - FUTURE - OWNERS

OVERTHROW - OF - US GOV'T

ALL - APARTMENTS - MUST

SELL - THEIR - APTS - 2 THE

TENANTS

1ST - FREE - EXERCISE

THEREOF - OF - RELIGION

REQUIREMENTS

TENANT - MUST - SPEAK

TONGUES

IF - THEY - CAN'T - THEN

CONTINUES - RENT LEASE

PAYMENT

IF - QUALIFY

APT - SALE - $1

THUS - YEARLY - TAX

RESIDENTIAL - COINS

INTERNATIONAL FUNDS

WE - PAY - APT BUILD'G

THE - REST - NEW LAW

BUILDING - MUST - BE

SOLAR - SO - FREE

ELECTRICITY

WATER - MACHINES

2 - PRODUCE WATER

SO - FREE - WATER

APT - BUILDINGS MUST

GIVE - HIGH - FREE YES

WIRELESS

ALSO - NEW

NO - MORE - POLICE

SHERIFFS - LANDLORDS

PROPERTY - MANAGERS

NO MORE - MANAGERS

MIDWIVES - PSYCHIATRISTS

CHIROPRACTORS NO MORE

GYNECOLOGY - BOXES FOR

CLEAR - PAPS - SMEARS - 4

ACTIVE - ONLY - NOT - FOR

VIRGINS - 2 - PROTECT - FR

CERVIX - CANCER

NO MORE - FAMILY DOCTOR

THUS - 4 - APT - BUILDINGS

OFFICE - STAFF

CUSTOMER - SERVICE

SUPERVISORS - ALLOWED

BUT - ALL - APTS - MUST

B - SOLD - 2 - TENANTS

BUT - CONSTRUCTION

MUST - B - SOUNDPROOF

NO - SOUND - WE - WILL

PROVIDE - THAT - TRUE

FUTURE - CONDO BLDGS

CONDOMINIUMS

OWNED - APTS

OWNER - OF - APTS

NO - MORE - KEYS

DIGITAL - ENTRY

SMALL - LOBBIES

U - CAN - LOCK - AREA

DELIVERY - MUST - BE

PLACE - INSIDE - APT's

LOBBIES - GIVE - THAT

DAY's - NOS - LIKE 555

DIGITAL - FINGERPRINT

OF - CARRIER - AS WILL

SAY - UPS - AMAZON

FEDEX - OTHERS

THEIR - PHOTOGRAPH

COLOR - AS - THEY YES

ENTER - 555 - DIGITAL

PLACES - ITEMS - IN THE

LOBBIES - DOGS OTHERS

STEAL - PACKAGES - YES

AMAZON - PRIME

BACK - 2 - WHAT - I WANT

SMART HOUSE - STORE

WAREHOUSE - LIKE OR

TALL - BUILDINGS - WE

CAN - PUT LIKE STICK

THIN - MARBLE - ON WALLS

MAYBE - COPPER - FAUCET

OUR - LOANS

$1 - PER - MONTH - AS - YOU

BUY - MORE - AND - MORE

THE - $1 - PER - MONTH WILL

NOT - INCREASE - AS - WE

BEAUTIFY - THINGS

AMENDMENT 1 - IN FRONT

'FREE - EXERCISE THEREOF

OF - RELIGION'

SPEAK - TONGUES - 2 - YES

ENTER

SO - WE - REDUCE - ARMED

ROBBERIES

IN - OUR - LOBBIES - WE YES

OFFER - OUR - CARDS - 4 US

CASH - USERS

WELCOME

SPEAK - TONGUES

2 - FREE - APP YES

$500 BILLION - TAX - FREE

SING - TONGUES ANOTHER

CASH - USERS

CONVERT - CASH - 2 - OUR

STORE - CARD

DO - THAT - OUR - GIFT

$500 BILLION - TAX - PAID

ONCE - DONE - KIOSKS - EA

FLOOR - GET - NEW - CASH

NON-FLAMMABLE

GET - NEW - CLEAN COINS

U - CAN - HAVE - $0.00

IN - CARD - FILL - ANY TIME

FUTURE

AESPA - CHARLIE BROWN

GROCERIES - 24/7 - OPEN

SMART HOUSE - STORE

OUR - KIOSKS - THERE

PUT - YOUR - CASH WITH

THAT - KIOSK - B 4 - OUR

STORE - HOLIDAYS OPEN

WE'RE - SELLING - BEST

ON - EARTH

BABIES - KIDS - ADULTS

100% - ORGANIC COTTON

500 - 2,500 - 3,500 COUNT

THREAD - COUNT

BEST - BAMBOO - SHEETS

CLOTHES - APRONS

100% - ORGANIC COTTON

PHILIPPINE - BABIES - WE

PUT - ON - CHAIR - WITH

WHEELS - AS - THEY YES

LEARN - 2 - WALK - RUN

OFFERING - BEST - TOYS

THINGS - 4 - ALL - KIDS

SWEDEN - IKEA - I DON'T

LIKE - THEY - INTRODUCE

PREDATOR - SHARKS

WILD - DANGEROUS - YES

ANIMALS - 2 - KIDS - LIKE

SNAKE - TIGERS - LIONS

WHY - DO - THEY - WANT

KIDS - 2 - PET - THEM IF

THEY - MEET - THEM - I

DON'T - AGREE - WITH US

EUROPE - OBSESSION WITH

KIDS - & - DEADLY ANIMALS

IKEA - PLUSH - ALSO - NOT

PRETTY - FLIMSY - NOT LIKE

DISNEY - PLUSH - QUITE YES

INFERIOR - UGLY NOT GOOD

BUT - I - DON'T - BELIEVE IN

THEIR - PLUSH - ANIMALS

MISSING - PLUSH - GIRAFFE

SMALL - ROCKING - CHAIRS

WITH - ANIMALS - 4 - KIDS 2

DON'T - LIKE - BEND A LOT 4

OLDER - KIDS - BUT - MOM

IS - PREGNANT - DON'T LIKE

KIDS - BEDS - JUST - LIKE

IKEA - BUNK - BEDS - BUT IT

IS - NOT - GREAT - BED - YES

SECTION - KIDS - BEDS - DO

NOT - LIKE - MANY - BEDS 2

CLOSETS - IKEA - AWESOME

DIFFERENT - KINDS - THEIR

CLOTHES - CLOSETS - WHAT

A - NICE - FEELING - HOLES

2 - CHANGE - HEIGHTS YES

WHAT - U - NEED

CUSTOMIZED

SO - I - WANT - MY - OWN

STORE - WITH - BUFFET 2

DEAR - KOREAN - GIRLS,

WE - HAVE - A - FUTURE

[n0cturna1-m3]

He's Charming | Alejandro Vargas x Male Reader | SFW

Fem/Minors DNI

Warnings; Somewhat graphic violence, spanish with no translation (go fuck yourselves (/j ily)), a little suggestive at the end

⚠️ i used yandex translator ⚠️

Request; Alejandro Vargas X Top!Male Reader who also speaks fluent Spanish and Alejandro slowly starts to fall for him.

A/N; I lost the file once and it made me blow a fuse so this is take 2 where i lost my patience so the use of accents is minimal, lmk if i should look through and add them back.

2 (Sequel)

If you'd like a part 2 with more development (+ smut bc it says top!m and i didn't wanna just go too fast idk) let me know! i'd be happy to do so.

2.3k words

Pulling the strap around his leg tighter, Y/N lifted his head away from his gear and turned to the door as it opened. Gaz walked in and slapped him on the shoulder with a big smile.

“Y/N! Good to see you, man!” Y/N smiled at him and gave him a playful shove, standing up and giving him a big hug. “Hope we didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“No, not at all, Y/N said. Y/N and Gaz had been friends for many years, going to school together in their youth and joining the force together. They were like a package deal.

“You ready to go?” Gaz asked, walking towards the door that led outside into the stifling heat. Y/N nodded and followed him outside, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a car waiting outside, Gaz took up the driver's seat while Y/N got into the passenger side, closed it, and buckled up.

The drive to the base was spent catching up, blasting music, and laughing, being met with Price on arrival. Y/N and Gaz got out of the car and walked toward the Captain, him extending his hand towards Y/N and taking it.

“Y/N, it’s good to finally meet you. Gaz talks about you often,” He said, shaking Y/N’s hand firmly.

“Likewise, Captain. All good things, I hope?” Y/N responded, placing his hands on his hips. Price laughed and shrugged his shoulders before turning around.

“Follow me, the guys are inside. You should meet them.” Price walked towards the door while Y/N and Gaz followed. The room they walked into was spacious and old, worn down. There was a table with a few men sitting around it playing cards, going in order and placing one upside down.

“Queen,” A man with a mohawk said, putting the card on the stack at the centre of the table.

“Bullshit!” The man next to him yelled, a wide grin on his face as he watched the other take the deck.

“You hackit bastard…” He muttered, glaring at the deck in his hands.

“Alright boys,” Price spoke, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. The men turned to look at him, two standing and walking over, the others following suit. “This is Y/N L/N, goes by Bobcat. He specialises in close combat. He will be working with us from here on out, so get to know him.”

Y/N gave them a half smile as Price moved to sit at the table, pulling out a laptop and a few folders.

“Call me Soap,” The mohawk introduced himself, extending his hand and shaking Y/N’s. “This is Ghost,” He said, pointing to the large man standing a few feet behind him. He had a mask on that covered his face, his eyes being the only visible feature. Y/N nodded to him.

“Colonel Alejandro Vargas, a pleasure to be working with you, Bobcat.” Alejandro shook his hand and gestured to the shorter man next to him. “This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra.” Rodolfo shook Y/N’s hand. Ghost had sat next to Price to speak to him about the mission.

“What’s with the nickname?” Soap questioned. Gaz started laughing and Y/N punched his shoulder.

“Don’t you say a word, Kyle,” He warned, Gaz looking up at him with a grin.

“It’s actually quite a funny story! There was an incident where he-”

“Cállate!” Y/N smacked the back of his head. “I’ll rat you out if you’re not careful, pendejo.” Gaz stopped laughing and narrowed his eyes at Y/N and scoffed.

“You speak Spanish?” Alejandro asked, catching Y/N’s attention.

“Sí, the woman who took me in when I was young taught me,” Y/N said. Gaz glanced at him and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him roughly. “What?”

“Bobcat, I’d like to give you a debrief about the mission and get you familiar with the plan,” Price said, standing up from his seat and walking over to Y/N.

“Alright. Lidere el camino, Capitán,” He responded, following Price into a room off the side. Shelves and boxes were lining the far wall, a small kitchen on the right side, and a table in the middle of the room. Price gestured for him to sit, Y/N doing so while the Captain turned on the kettle and rummaged through a cabinet.

“Do you drink coffee?” He asked, pulling out two mugs and two instant coffee packs.

“Sí señor. I take it black.” Price readied the mugs and turned to face Y/N, leaning on the counter while he waited for the water to boil.

“Let’s get down to business. We are going for a man by the name of Alexander Stadt. He has been smuggling illegal arsenals from here to a port in Germany, and from there to Czech.” He grabbed a file from the counter next to him and tossed it in front of Y/N on the table. He skimmed through it while Price continued. “Civilians have begun to get involved, and consequently silenced for stumbling upon the trading. We have located Alexander at a base not far from here.”

The kettle screamed when it reached its designated temperature. Price turned around and started making the coffee. “He jumps between places, so our window of time is small. Tonight would be best to do the operation. Capture or kill.” Price turned around and walked to the table, setting one mug in front of Y/N and taking a seat in front of him.

“So what’s the plan then?” Y/N asked, flipping to the next page with details on Los Vaqueros. He stared at one of the photos and eyed the printed words beside it. The handsome man from earlier. Price started talking again and Y/N looked up, the details for Y/N’s place in the mission unfolding. “I’ve got my work cut out for me…”

Y/N followed Alejandro closely, peering over his shoulder when he stopped and raised a hand.

“See something, Colonel?” Y/N asked, glancing around. Alejandro pointed to a man standing at an open window, leaning out and smoking a cigarette. Y/N let out an ‘ah’ sound and walked over, Alejandro grabbing his shoulder and trying to pull him back.

“What the fuck are you doing, pendejo?” He whisper-yelled. Y/N shrugged him off and walked under the high window, glancing up at the oblivious man who was speaking to someone behind him. He turned his head to look at the person and Y/N reached up, grabbing the cigarette from his fingers and stomping it out. The man turned back to his smoke after the other had left, a confused look on his face at the lack of it, and leaned out the window to see if he dropped it.

“What the…” He muttered, eyes blooming wide with shock at the sight of Y/N staring back up at him.

“Smoking is bad for you, don’t you know that, credo?” He chastised, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt and tugging him out the window. He hit the ground with a thud, dirt kicking up around him. Y/N crouched down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head up and slitting his throat with his knife. The grotesque gurgling from his drowning in his blood sent chills through Alejandro’s spine.

While not part of the plan, they now had a way inside that would be closer to their target, so Alejandro walked over and stared up at the open window in slight shock.

“¿Eyes audaz, no?” He muttered. Y/N grinned and laced his fingers together to give the other a boost.

“Si, but I saved us time.” Alejandro hummed and hauled himself into the window, landing on his feet and waiting for Y/N to follow after him. The window was high up because of the big foundation, and he wondered if he would even be able to get himself over it, but lo and behold Y/N fell in after him rather ungracefully.

“Nice landing, tonto,” Alejandro huffed. Y/N pay no mind, simply standing up and brushing ohh his pants. Alejandro walked to the door and leaned out, immediately going back inside.

“Who’s over there?” Y/N asked, making his way over to the colonel. He shushed him and grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer to him and letting him peer out the door. There was a large, round table with a group of men playing poker around it, Alexander sitting amongst them. Large bodyguards were posted around the room, all sporting the same ‘uniform’ that the man Y/N killed was sporting. ‘Ah,’ he thought, pulling away from the door. “That’s not good…”

Alejandro walked away from the door, sending Y/N a look that said ‘keep watch’, while he moved farther away to be unheard while radioing into the rest of the team. Y/N stared out the door, the murmuring of Alejandro being snuffed by the rodeo that was the poker game outside of their small storage room.

“They’re on their way to us,” He stated quietly. Y/N briefly looked at him before returning to stalking the group. “On my signal, you shoot the one closest to us, the one on the left. I’ll get the one on the right.” Y/N nodded and readied his gun, holding it across his chest protectively.

Waiting for them felt longer than it should have, but when Y/N heard Ghost give Alejandro the ‘ok’ he stepped into the doorway and shot three of the bodyguards nearest to them, chaos ensuing.

“You-!” Alejandro cursed, following after Y/N and firing at the other guards and men who were now scrambling to get away.

Y/N spotted the red hair of Alexander running out of the room and immediately rushed after him. ‘Capture or kill’, he thought as he shot the tall man in the lower leg. He let out a blood-curdling scream and stumbled, limping away from Y/N as quickly as he could with a bullet in his calf. Y/N caught up with him quickly, kicking the back of his left knee and watching him fold like a chair.

“Hey, Alex! You mind if I call you that?” Y/N mocked, crouching in front of the ginger who was grasping his bleeding wound. He glared up at the H/C and spat on his face, Y/N’s lips curling into a grimace. “Mala jugada, pendejo,” He muttered as he wiped off the saliva.

He stood up and wound back, kicking Alexander in the side of his head with his thick combat boots. His head swung to the side, face red from the force. Y/N leaned down and grabbed his collar, pulling him up enough to look at him. He clicked his tongue and punched him, fist making contact with his temple. He passed out promptly afterwards, Y/N letting him fall to the floor. Alejandro walked rushed through the door, Soap on his heel and stared at the unconscious body at Y/N’s feet.

“He spat on me, it’s not my fault!” He said, raising his hands in defence. Soap groaned and Alejandro rubbed his eyebrows. “What? He’s still alive,” He grumbled, pulling a zip tie from his utility belt and tying Alexander’s wrists and ankles. He hoisted him up over his shoulder and walked past Alejandro and Soap, the latter following him while Alejandro stared in slight disbelief at the fact that Y/N had effortlessly picked up a 6’3” man and casually slung him over his shoulder. What the hell were they feeding this kid?

He caught up with them quickly and watched Y/N shove Alex, now awake and cursing Y/N out in Russian while thrashing around, in the back of the truck, slamming the door in his face.

Y/N groaned and looked at his hand, a throbbing, irritated and bleeding teeth mark on the skin. “This puta bit me!” Alejandro walked over to him and grimaced at the sight. The bastard’s teeth were sharp. Examining the wound, Alejandro got a good look at Y/N’s hands.

They were nice, a few veins protruding from his S/C skin, his bones showing through it. The meat of his palm and the creases in it, his fingernails short. Never in his life did he think that he would be admiring a man's hand and be slightly jealous that the bite wound on it wasn’t in the shape of his own teeth.

“¿A que estas mirando?” Y/N asked, looking into Alejandro's deep brown eyes. “¿Crees que es contagioso?” He turned back to his hand, raising it to his face and looking at it with concern.

“No esta infectado, no te preocupes,” Alejandro reassured him, turned away and walked to the passenger side of the car Rodolfo was in. He opened the door and climbed halfway inside, glancing back At Y/N who was getting into the driver's seat with Gaz in the passenger seat. “Nos vemos en la base.” Y/N grinned and waved, shutting the door and driving off. Rodolfo stared at Alejandro after he sat in the car incredulously.

“¿Te gusta el?” He asked, following the car in front of him. Alejandro glared at him in response.

“Es encantador,” He said, watching the road in front of them.

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Exploring Con O'Neill's Filmography Day #?-Pie In The Sky S02 Ep08

WARNINGS: Gun violence, alcoholism, pain meds addition, disability due to gun violence, workplace ableism, slight comment that could maybe be taken as transphobia? I'm also going to add slight passive suicidal ideation for the character Con plays.

CON IS SEMI-LIKEABLE IN THIS WHICH IS A SHOCK.

This is a cop/crime procedural, but unlike the ones I grew up with in the US in the mid to late 2000s/2010s this has no claws. Seriously, the main plot is driven by pudding. I align more with ACAB sentiments (obviously), and this does fall into Copoganda. But I'm here for Con, and not much else.

I also didn't catch the name of his character till the very end, as this had no subtitles and I'm bad with accents.

As always, I'll be active in the comments if you want to discuss the episode. Especially if you deal with chronic pain/a disabling injury as I have a bone to pick with some scenes, and want to know how close to life they are.

If you haven't watched it, it's less than an hour and something to turn your brain off while watching. Spoilers ahead.

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

Pie In The Sky S02 Ep08 (1995, the same year as 3 Steps to Heaven. Jesus Christ, this man's career is wild)

IS HE GOING TO KILL SOMEONE. Based on what I know about crime procedurals, he's the murder.

(Con's character based on the first scene) He seems fun

Who is this mysterious man in the window

When is this? 80s? British 80s

Love the lesbians

That cop smiled more than any I've ever met

I know nothing about this show, and god, I hope I don't need context

Look at that helmet, how do people take cops seriously in England? I'd just point and laugh.

Why does he have a ceramic rooster?

Are these old ladies going to get murdered.

That guy's side part is really unfortunate

A CANADIAN COP, look at the Mountie

WHY IS SHE CARRYING PUDDING

Mommy issues to the rescue

This is going to be a phoenix write case

I LOVE RED SHIRT LADY'S HAIR

(Con's scene that you've seen online in gifs 'One...Homosexual', you know the one) I LOVE THIS ASSHOLE

YOU ARE THE HOMOSEXUAL

Why is talked to him like a child? Rude as shit. Even when he's acting weird, he probably has a reason. Hear him out and talk.

Slightly transphobic line? Idk how to read that.

Oh good, they're writing checks and not cashing them, Girlbosses

Look, I've just met this old guy(our detective inspector protagonist), but he's fun

It's a British show, there must be a character named JOHN.

IS HE A DETECTIVE AND A CHEF? Oh, that's his wife. God, I thought I was stretched thin. Look at him.

CON? (Con at a firing range?)

HOT

WHAT THE FUCK, why is he shaking?

At least he's wearing ear protection, (DI sneaks up behind him, and taps on his shoulder to alert him to his presence while still holding a gun) DONT FUCKING DO THAT, WHY WOULD YOU TAP ON HIM. HOLDING A GUN.

Con has a need for speed.

WHY ARE THERE SO MANY GUN SCENES WITH CONS CHARACTER. WHO IS HE KILLING

Nvm, that ladies hair is too tall

ARE THEY JUST STEALING/shoplifting? LAME IDIOTS.

Why is Con's character just keeping guns in cars. Shouldn't he know where to hide them better? Cause he already carries one on him. The trunk one is probably just in case he loses his main one?

THE AUDIO STING

Oh, he was a cop. Got injured and is now paranoid. Fair, but unsafe as hell.

They are such shitty shoplifters. She tried to make eye contact with the woman she was stealing from.

Do English people just make a shit ton of Bread Pudding.

Aww they're sisters and not lesbians. Rude.

I'm just sitting here imagining how funny this scene could have been. 5 guns fall out of his wheelchair as she takes it out. "Those are for work"

Are they going to fuck or is one of them going to get shot, I'm getting mixed messages

(A benching rack in the corner)He's getting his gains, I respect it.

2 Con characters addicted to pain meds.

IS HE ALWAYS A SIMP

Pain meds+ Alcohol is got a good look

You didn't choose this but you chose how you react buddy.

Go to therapy

Best DI in media. Stealing Criminal Old Ladies Pudding Recipe

(A chef says a xenophobic line about foreign recipes) What's wrong with foreign recipes? All your shit is bland.

WHY IS IT SO LIQUIDY. GOD I HATE HOT PUDDING

Maybe I'm bad with age, but Con and the detective seem like the same age. He doesn't seem ten years older than her.

He doesn't have to be a sad bastard, yeah, but Con's trapped playing that role. So if we can fix these characters 'problems' In the next twenty minutes I'll be shocked

He's jealous cause you're young and not jaded to the system like he is. You know. Like every ex cop/military/government character.

THAT CUT WAS JARRING (From a peaceful dinner to Con trashing in bed)

WHAT THE FUCK.

Who gets out of a car like that, slowly pulls out a gun, and fires like that? WHAT WAS HIS PLAN? DID HE HAVE DRUGS HE WAS HIDING? WHY??!?!?!?!

THAT WAS THE CHEST. HE SHOULD BE DEAD.

Go to therapy, Jesus Christ. The station would pay for it, and this is interrupting your daily well-being.

(The car shop guy goes to his house to hand over his keys personally, they do a weird double-take glance thing) That interaction post-nightmare felt gay? Is that just me?

What the fuck does 'twirlers' mean? Am I just not British enough to understand that?

73 arrests for shoplifting and they're still this shit? WHAT?

4 pistoles seem low based on his history. But I know a guy who has two hundred firearms anywhere from black powder with buckshot to pistols, and he's just a nurse...Well, maybe rural North West US is not the normal standard to judge by.

ALSO DON'T HIDE A FIREARM LIKE THAT. Does it just slide around in his trunk?

They're such jackasses to him, no wonder he's rude

THE FUCKER THAT SHOT HIM IS ALMOST OUT OF JAIL? MURDER HIM CON

TRUE THO, as long as he stays a cop feeling like this there's no point. He is just kind of stuck feeling like his life has no meaning. It's shit, but if he finds no point to living then yeah. He'll never move on

ANGRY CON. YESSSSS!!!!!

I was half expecting him to pull out a gun

THE OLD MAN HAS DRIP

THAT GUY IS GIANT

The nice thing about being a disabled cop here is no one suspects you and socially we're trained to ignore people with disabilities. It's something our governments actually uses in day to day life. I kinda hoped they cover that more.

I don't think you can pull out credit cards like that. Any bank would be suspicious.

WHY IS HE STILL AFTER THE RECIPIES

HE'S ONLY ASKING THEM FIRST SO THEN HE CAN GET THE FUCKING RECIPE AND THEN ARREST HIM. What in the Paddington bear logic is this this?

Con was playing a character named Ian? Cool.

Also, NOW WE HAVE ANOTHER CON CHARACTER DOING DUMB GUN SHIT. That brings us up to 5 characters baby (Telestar, Vengence is Mine, Blood Brothers, 3 Steps To Heaven, now this). The worst part is the only Con character I trust with a gun is Val. Cliff is responsible, but I still don't trust him. Izzy can shoot, and due to hijinks in the story, he might accidentally shoot someone.

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

Overall:

Took a minute to understand what everything was going on. They brought up a fun idea about how cops use PR. I wish Ian's issues were resolved in the end. He just kind of get's his groove back and suddenly everything's 'okay'. He still hates himself, and struggles with a pain pill and alcohol addiction.

Ian trying to prove he's still useful is giving me some hope for Izzy season 2. Con pulls it off really well. You see Ian's frustration with needing to ask for help, and pushing himself past his limits. You can feel frustration from Ian knowing he's being sent on this baby case for essentially bullshit reasons. He spoke up and upper management essentially remembered he existed. This is a really fun way to use Con's chops as a serious, but fun character.

The old lady plot was weird but fun. Girlbosing legends. Not knowing the protagonist, and being surprised when he rerouted a case just to get a recipe was funny.

Overall an enjoyable episode, besides a slightly transphobic joke, it's not as 90s as it could be. Also, he and the car salesmen guy at the end there had as much chemistry as he and the detective had. Get you a guy who can do both.

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

Con:8/10. Fun, angry guy. Wish he got therapy.

Story: 6-7/10. Fun, I know depicting cops like this is exactly how they get away with doing awful shit, but seeing a cop story that wasn't life and death(besides Ian possible hurting himself) was fun. Felt new, at the very least. I knew nothing about this show but could still watch it.

Cinematography: 6/10. Of its era, but you get the feeling of putting on a warm coat. This is something that they would play at a hotel, on the free stations. You've definitely seen something like this before.

Overall I'd say around a 7. If I rank it, low B. Just cause he's not a real protagonist in the series, and I want to show love to the shit Con put his whole chest into. But it wasn't a bad watch. Fun contained story.

@ivegotnonameidea thanks for the recommendation ;)

[stufftippywrote]

not an astronaut

This is based off a personal experience. Tw for fat-shaming, homophobia, and general assholery from an asshole kid.

The bell rings cheerfully as Bitty steps through the doorway. This was one of his favorite places when he was younger. The eclectic curios, every shape and size and color, packing the shelves were an endless source of fascination for young Eric Bittle, and the owners were friends of the family, so they knew Bitty well and didn't freak out when he picked up a ceramic pepper shaker or glass figurine and held it in his hands like an ancient treasure.

He walks through the store with that same sense of wonder now, 30 years later, and brushes his hand reverently over the shelves. They’re not looking for anything in particular today, but Bitty has told Jack about this place so many times, he simply couldn’t help but visit. Besides, you never know when you might find the perfect accent piece for the new home.

Chicken-shaped serving bowls, a porcelain figurine of a girl dancing, a set of silverware in a dusty wooden case. Bitty is spoiled for choice. As he browses, there’s a movement at the back of the store, and he catches a glimpse of someone hauling boxes through a door. He wonders who runs the place now. The sign still says Thompson’s Antiques, but he knows Mrs. Thompson passed and Mr. Thompson is getting on in years. Could it be that…

A prickle of fear runs through him.

The figure in the back drags the box to a nearby aisle and starts unpacking it, placing items on a low shelf. Bitty’s curiosity overflows. He moseys into that aisle and begins to speak, but the man raises his head before he can get a word out. He has to catch his breath all over again.

The man’s face goes slack. “I know you,” he blurts.

Eric puts his hands on his hips and gives a bright smile. “Davey Thompson. So you’re here after all!”

~~~

“Davey, this is Eric. Eric, this is our little boy Davey.” Mrs. Thompson’s smile is bright as she urges her son forward. “Why don’t you two go play at the playground while Mommy and her friend talk?”

The kid is tough-looking, with ruddy cheeks and a thick build. Eric reaches out his hand to lead Davey along the way. The minute they’re out of earshot, Davey snatches his hand back like he’s just touched a hot stove. Eric turns, surprised.

“You’re fat,” Davey says.

Eric blinks.

“You look dumb,” Davey adds on. And thus a quote-unquote “friendship” was born.

~~~

Davey stands up. He still has the same tinted cheeks and stocky build that Bitty remembers, but his face is sunken somehow, and he’s built up muscle where baby fat used to linger on his arms and shoulders. He’s got a tattoo on one arm – a Japanese koi fish, mid-splash.

“Nice ink,” Bitty comments.

And Davey Thompson, for possibly the first time in his life, smiles at Bitty. “Thanks.”

“The shop looks nice,” Bitty says, surveying the shelf like it’s his domain. “Hasn’t changed much since I used to come here.”

“You’re – you’re Eric Bittle, right?” Davey says, sounding almost scared of the answer. “From school?”

“From way before school,” Bitty responds. “You’re looking good.”

“Uh. Thanks. Same to you.” Davey looks uncertain, almost sheepish. There’s a moment of awkward silence. Davey tries to break it. “Um. So. What are you –”

He doesn’t seem to have the strength, or the will, to come up with the rest of the sentence. Bitty picks it up. “I’m a pastry chef,” he says. “I have a bakery and I cater, and I’ve put out three cookbooks. Can you imagine that?”

Davey looks kind of stunned. “Wow,” he says slowly. “Good for you. Where’s the bakery?”

“Up in New England. Providence, Rhode Island, to be exact.”

Davey snaps his fingers. “That’s right, you went to college up there. For hockey, wasn’t it?”

~~~

Bitty takes a swing at the ball. He misses, and it goes tumbling behind him into the net.

“Hah, you’re the worst goalie,” Davey says.

Somehow, Bitty finds the courage to say, “Let me play forward.” But his words are swallowed by the passing of a car on the cross street.

“What?”

“You be goalie.” Bitty gives the phrase all the menace he’s got in an eight-year-old body.

Davey laughs, a cruel laugh that sounds like ripping paper in Bitty’s ears. “Why? I can score on you all I want. That’s why we made you goalie.”

Resentment simmers like a low sun in Bitty’s gut. He wants to challenge Davey to play him on actual ice. He knows Davey can’t skate. As bad as he is, Bitty can’t possibly lose to him there. But the words stay stuck inside, plastered to the inside of his stomach, making him feel sick.

“Worst goalie ever,” Kevin chimes in.

“The worst, the wooooorst,” all four of them sing to him.

Bitty crouches low and is glad they can’t see much through the oversized goalie mask. Someday, he thinks, someday I’m gonna get them.

~~~

“Something like that,” Bitty answers easily. “And you’ve been here running the store?”

“Pretty much.” He doesn’t look very proud of that fact.

“I remember you used to say you were going to be an astronaut.”

“Ah, well –” The rose tint on Davey’s cheeks grows a shade deeper. “We were kids. I figure I missed my shot to make something of myself.”

All of Bitty’s nurturing instincts come alive. “Don’t say that. You’re doing well. Doing good, honest work. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Nah, man. It was just the easiest thing to do, once Mom got sick. I had to be here for her, and I … just stayed.”

Bitty gazes at him. This isn’t the attitude he expected from Davey Thompson, not in the slightest. He seems so defeated, as though Bitty’s arrival has reminded him of everything he isn’t. Bitty doesn’t want to be that for him, but he doesn’t think he has a choice in the matter. He quashes the small, self-satisfied demon that’s cackling in the back of his head. He’s not that kid anymore, either.

Just then, the chimes jingle at the front of the store. The babbling voice of a young child brightens the room. “Ah,” Bitty says, “there they are. He had to keep them outside a while before they calmed down. Little kids just work themselves up into a dither sometimes.” He offers an apologetic smile to Davey and retreats down the aisle toward the front of the store.

Suze is quiet, but it’s clear she was crying her eyes out earlier. She hangs on to her Papa with a fierce fist. Robby’s eyes are bugging out at the sight of the store. “What’s that?” he keeps asking, tugging on Jack’s slacks. Jack himself looks a little the worse for wear, but happy. That kind of tired-happy that they see in each other’s faces every night once the kids are in bed.

“Come on, Rob,” Bitty says, holding out his hands. “Want to see Daddy’s favorite store?”

Robby holds out his hands to be picked up. Bitty obliges, despite the warning creak of his back. He turns to take Robby further into the store and sees Davey standing there, staring them down.

He points. “I know you, too.”

“Ah, here we go,” Bitty says with a laugh.

“Were you in school with us? I don’t think that’s right, but—”

Jack holds out his hand for a shake. “Jack Zimmermann,” he says. “And you are?”

“My old friend Davey,” Bitty fills in. He can’t help but put a pointed emphasis on the friend part.

Davey clasps Jack’s hand but doesn’t seem to want to let go. “You’re Jack Zimmermann? The hockey player?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

Davey pumps Jack’s hand about four more times before finally letting go. “It’s – it’s good to meet you.” He looks at Suze, still curled up in Jack’s other arm. “And these are your kids? Or—” He turns to Bitty, face contorted in confusion. “Are they your kids?”

“Both,” Bitty answers cheerily. “Davey, meet my husband.”

Davey Thompson very nearly has a coronary right there.

~~~

“Hah, you’re just small all over, aren’t you?” Davey says with a pointed glance at Bitty’s crotch.

“You can’t help how you’re born,” Bitty retorts, but he pulls up his boxers right quick.

“Yeah, some people are just born stupid,” Davey agrees. Bitty instantly regrets replying at all.

Kyle whispers something in Davey’s ear. They both laugh.

“You’re right,” Davey says. He turns back to Bitty. “He’s right. They do say things about you.”

Bitty’s heart drops to his stomach. “W-what things?”

“You know! That you’re—” Davey flaps his wrist.

He doesn’t seem to have the nerve to say the word, but he doesn’t have to say it. The others in the locker room laugh.

For not the first time, Bitty is tempted to just ask, “So what if I am?” But he can’t. Not to these people. This isn’t how he wants his coming out to happen. So he just turns away and pulls on his sweatpants, ignoring the rills of laughter that echo against the lockers, and feels small. Small all over.

~~~

Davey recovers from his shock and nods his head rapidly. “Oh, I get it. Uh, congratulations. Uh, Bittle, could I talk to you a sec?”

He has that sheepish look again. Bitty watches as he retreats into one of the side aisles. “Gimme a sec,” he tells Jack, setting Robby down, and follows Davey.

When they're isolated, Davey turns to him sorrowfully. “I, uh—” Davey looks at the floor. “I was pretty mean to you in school.”

It isn’t what Bitty expected, not at all. To be honest, demons in the back of his head aside, this sort of thing doesn’t bother him so much anymore. Why should it? He’s married with two kids and a brand new home. He doesn’t spare a lot of time thinking about the distant past. “Um,” he starts, suddenly terribly embarrassed.

“No, let me—” Davey raises a hand. “Just let me. I said a lot of nasty things to you back then. I’m really sorry about it. I think about it a lot, and I’m just – I’m really sorry.”

There is a piece of Bitty that’s happy, even smug, at hearing this apology. But mostly he just pities Davey at this point. What a thing to carry around your whole life. “We were kids,” Bitty says. “Kids say dumb things. It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Still.” Davey says.

“I can’t say it didn’t hurt me,” Bitty goes on. “But I turned out okay, don’t you think?”

Davey laughs grimly “Yeah, look at you … and look at me.” He shrugs.

“You seem to be doing all right,” Bitty says charitably.

“I’m not an astronaut,” Davey says.

Bitty laughs. “Neither am I. We’re all good.” He pats Davey on the shoulder. A moment passes between them, silent, as they both listen to the sound of the past giving way to a new, kinder present.

After the moment passes, Bitty grins “Come on, I’m going to introduce you to my kids. Do you have kids?”

Davey flushes. “Yeah, I got a teenager. A real smartass. I wonder where he learned it.”

“Pictures!” Bitty declares. “Get that phone out, I demand pictures.”

Davey struggles to pull his phone out of his jeans pocket. This time, he flushes with pride. He narrates the story of each photo as they walk back toward the front.

[wikiangela]

911 lone star 4x08

spoilers under the cut

lately I'm so late to those episodes lmao I just don't care all that much anymore I guess 😂 but last episode was fun so here's hoping it's only better from now on 🤞

here we go:

awww babies are getting ready for the wedding 😍😍 (they both look so good but damn, Carlos 🥵)

I feel like Owen is gonna be hilarious with the wedding planning and I can't wait 😂 imma say it again: he's so good in comedy, they should only give him comic relief scenes 😂 I'm lowkey getting Chris Traeger vibes and I'm loving it 😂

now add Carlos' parents to the mix and it's gonna be amazing

and Marjan is back!!! she was gone for like 2 episodes but I missed her so much 😍

an unnecessary tangent but: it's crazy to me that in the US parents can teach children to drive in their own cars in the city?? like wtf? like, okay, my stepdad taught me some basic things on an empty road in the middle of nowhere before my first lesson, but then I learned everything in classes in a car where the instructor had all the pedals too just in case - like, wtf is this - see here, he wouldn't hit anything because the instructor would hit the break 💁🏻‍♀️

besides, driving with parents is just so fucking stressful, I never drive with my mom in the car bc she panics and makes me panic (unless I pick my parents up from a party but she's always in the back then 😂😂)

what the fuck, how does that happen?? 😂 a lot of unusual rescues this season and I'm enjoying those a lot (I mean, we haven't had that many so far but still haha)

I'm so weird about voices and pronunciation etc but I just love the way Paul speaks idk 😂

this is stressful jfc

awww (future) husbands eating lunch together, love it

I'm sorry but Carlos speaking Spanish (or at least a few Spanish words whatever) with that accent... 🥵🥵🥵🥵 I always say that Spanish is the hottest language and it's still true hahaha

I'm loving the wedding planning and talking about it, it's so cute, and I love how everyone's involved

and I was right, Owen is hilarious (he's toying the funny to annoying line sometimes, but leaning towards funny for now haha)

Carlos called his mama to talk to his future father-in-law that's so adorable 😂

I lowkey agree with Andrea about the relationship between the in-laws bc if they don't get along, it can make life pretty difficult at some points... (and I speak from experience as my grandparents haven't spoken to each other roughly the entire time my mom's been married lmao)

hey, it's Coach Beiste! 😂

oh my god I hope Marjan somehow helps that girl but jfc this is a lot 😳

oh my god now both Andrea and Owen are gonna take over 😂 and they're teaming up on this 😂 I'm loving this - on the flip side, the in laws are getting along pretty well huh 😂 great bonding time hahah

Carlos' expressions might be the funniest thing here tbh 😂

wait wtf Kiley stayed?? girl, run, what are you doing

I love that TK finally stood up to Owen but it's all still hilarious

I'm loving all those Owen and Andrea moments tbh - and this talk over cake is so cute

Marjan is so good, she's literally driving so far after them only to save Kiley, that's so admirable tbh, and I love that she got proof 🥺 she's not a firefighter rn but she still saves people 🥺 yes, she's a damn hero 🥺 and now she's gonna go back for firefighting right? 😂

and we're getting a good Owen and TK father son moment 🥺that was a good talk, I loved it

I've been asking for this for the last two seasons and I'm so happy, pls can this happen more often

this was such a cute episode, and I really loved it, it flew by tbh 😂

the TK and Carlos stuff with the parents was so funny, and I was invested in Marjan's story too, and it was all very exciting and interesting

I didn't enjoy the first 6ish episodes but they pulled me back in, this was great, loved it 😂

(but, again, can we pls get smth more from the others soon 😂)

[joaquinwhorres]

Stitches & Blankets (Joaquin Torres x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› You find Joaquin Torres after he tries to stop the bank robbery.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,000-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› OK, why are there not more Torres fics? I'm legitimately confused about that. Also, I realized after writing half of this down, that a bank was robbed, so there were probably still police on the scene and the reader'd probably be speaking Swiss-German but uh...fan fiction.

There was a body in the street, which was not what you expected to see coming out to your car.

You'd heard the wailing sirens and shouting and the thunderous footsteps--they're what kept you pressed against the side of the building for the past ten minutes, avoiding the chaos as much as possible. It wasn't fear that kept you there though, it was experience. You'd become used to the quick riots and little skirmishes for resources over the past few months. You knew it was better to stay out of the way, wait out the storm, and then go about your life. They became nothing more than minor nuisances. Bits of unrest that were there and then gone in the next instance. They weren't supposed to leave a body behind.

"Meine Fresse," you murmured, racing forward to the person lying supine on the stones, arms out to their sides, the white of their sneakers reflecting the street lights. As you drew closer, you saw it was a man--about your age with blood around his eye and nose and lip. For a brief second, you wondered if he'd been trampled, but he definitely would have looked worse for wear based on how many people you'd heard.

"Bist du okay?" Your voice was loud as you checked over the rest of his body. He didn't seem to have any other injury, and there wasn't any blood under his head, so you decided it was safe enough to gently shake him.

He didn't rouse.

So, instead you knelt your ear down to his lips, laying your hand flat on his chest. You felt your hand rise before you heard the slow intake of breath, and you rocked back onto your knees. He was breathing. He was alive.

Still, something gnawed at the back of your mind, urging your fingers up under his jaw, gently pressing into his neck. It was only then that you felt a surge of relief. His pulse was there, and it was strong. He was really alive.

And then you remembered that you should probably call 112.

All things considered, it was a quick phone call--the operator seemed to know your exact location and vaguely what had happened as you explained where you were and how you found him. Instead, most of the conversation was spent listening to their instructions to roll him into a recovery position and check for any signs of life-threatening injuries. When they told you that you could hang up because they were close, you did so and found the man blinking at you.

"Hoi," you greeted soothingly. "Wie heisst du?"

He groaned, attempting to roll onto his back once more. You reached out a hand stopping him, and he looked up at you confused.

"Comment t'appelles tu?" You attempted, hoping he wasn't an Italian or Romansch speaker. You hardly knew enough of either language to tell him you couldn't speak it.

He winced and lifted his hand to his face. "Shit."

English. Good.

"What's your name?" you asked, and his eyes seemed to focus on you once more, this time a spark of recognition or maybe just awareness lighting up behind them.

"Joaquin," he informed, and you released an arm, allowing him to finally roll onto his back like he wanted. He had a strong American accent, even through the gravelly voice of barely regained consciousness. "Did they get away?"

"Ähm," you looked around at the empty street. "Yes?" you guessed.

He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm gonna have to call some people."

"I think you should wait for the ambulance."

"Yeah," he agreed, the word breathy and pained. "That's probably a good idea."

"What happened?" you asked, and he raised his eyebrows, looking back at you.

"Flag Smashers."

"I didn't think the Flag Smashers hurt people."

"I'm just lucky, I guess," he answered, and you smiled, letting out a small laugh. He offered a small smile as well.

You could hear the siren now, the faint sound winding its way through the curving streets of Zürich and towards the two of you. Your head turned towards the sound, as if you could trace it back to the ambulance, and gauging the distance. "They should be close," you said, returning your attention to Joaquin.

"What's your name?" he asked, and the question surprised you. Then again, if the two of you were stuck waiting for an ambulance at nine o'clock on a Sunday night, maybe a bit of small talk shouldn't have been so surprising.

"Y/N," you answered, and he repeated it.

"You're very pretty, Y/N."

The laugh escaped you on instinct, although to call it a laugh might not be the best descriptor. It was more of a surprised noise, partially exhale and a tinge of amusement added through the slight smile at the corner of your mouth.

"Thank you," you said. "You are very pretty too."

And he was, underneath the dark red and rapidly purpling injuries. He had a strong jaw and kind eyes, and even the hint of a smile he'd given earlier had made something in your chest constrict.

"I don't feel so pretty," he responded, and this time your laugh was more of a laugh, and he reached up to feel at his face. You took hold of his hand, bringing it back down and trapping it in yours.

"Pretty enough for me to hold your hand," you joked, hoping to distract him from continuing to poke and prod and break all of the rules and instructions the EMTs had given over the phone.

"Well, I got that goin' for me, I guess," he said, letting his hand relax into yours.

Headlights bathed you in a warm yellow light as flashing blue lights bounced off the surrounding buildings, illuminating the rest of the street.

There were some shouts as the doors of the ambulance opened and people poured out, running towards you and Torres. The paramedic crowded around quickly, a blonde bearded man asking  quick questions in German.

"Er spricht Englisch," you explained, and he nodded, switching languages.

It became apparent as police officers pulled up and flooded out of their cars that you were no longer needed. You stood up, backing away and letting Joaquin's hand slip through yours.

"You're not going to stay and hold my hand?" Joaquin called out to you, and you let a smile curl across your lips. Around you, people were starting to come out onto the street, lured by the sounds of the sirens and lack of shouting and general ruckus. Your eyes fell back on Joaquin who was still looking up at you, even as a paramedic flashed a light into his face.

"Maybe he can hold your hand," you said, gesturing to a paramedic who had slid into your place. Joaquin gave half a smile as you turned and left him in the hands of the professionals.

As you rounded the corner, arms full of blankets, the last person you expected to almost run into was Joaquin.

Part of the surprise was the kind that generally accompanied running into someone outside of the context you know them in. A larger part of the surprise was the fact that he was not in the hospital.

Instead, he stood before you, face swollen, bloodied and bruised, with the small white bandages of butterfly stitches above his right eye. He blinked at you, as if he was caught in the headlights.

"Pretty Joaquin," you said, surprise ringing through every part of your voice.

"Y/N."

At least his memory wasn't affected by whatever the Flag Smashers had done to him. His response time was also quicker than it had been two and a half hours ago, and he seemed all in all more present and less hazy. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here." Your own surprise and mild confusion had not quite worn off. "What are you doing here?"

For a variety of reasons, he was not the typical person who stumbled into the Zürich GRC Refugee Camp. He was both too young and too old and far more put together than a normal incomer. He didn't have that haunted look behind his eyes that made your heart wrench. He looked battered and bruised but ok.

"I need a place to stay."

Your eyes ran over his form, from his fluffy dark hair and banged up face to his bright white trainers. You lifted an eyebrow. "The hospital wouldn't take you?"

He shook his head with a sheepish grin. "It's just a broken orbital. Not much else they can do for it." Your eyebrows didn't lower and he gave half a laugh. "Trust me I'm as shocked as you are."

"I'll need you to fill out some paperwork."

He winced. "Any way that could wait until tomorrow? My head is killing me."

You stared intently at his face. Over the past four months of working at the GRC camp, you'd gotten good at reading people. You had an eye for knowing who was going to be trouble down the line and who would need some extra comfort and care. You knew who to push about their stories, and who to wait for--to be there as they slowly unraveled their tale.

So while there was a lot about pretty boy Joaquin that just didn't add up, you could see in his eyes that he could be trusted to stay the night. Just not here.

"You can't stay here without going through intake," you shook your head. "But if you really need a place to sleep, you can come with me."

"Really?" Joaquin asked, turning to follow you as you set back off towards your car, and you nodded.

"It's nothing special--just my couch. But I've been told it's very comfy."

Joaquin faltered a step, slowing down. "You're sure you want me coming and bloody-ing up your couch? I could just stay here and leave before--"

"I'll put down some papers," you said jokingly in an attempt to cut off the subject of him staying at the camp.

"Ok," he said, his voice distracted before there was a quick shuffle of footsteps and he caught back up with you. "Ok, thanks."

The two of you arrived at your car shortly thereafter, Joaquin moving to sit in the passenger seat as you dumped the blankets in the car. You came around to slip into the driver's seat, quickly backing out of the spot and setting off back home.

"So what's with all the blankets?" he asked, pulling his attention from the streets and buildings and back to you.

"We got a late donation tonight," you answered, flicking on your turn signal. "They needed someone here to help organize the drop off and then our washing machine broke, so I have to take work home with me." You smiled at the joke, but he just nodded, leaving you to wonder if maybe your English was off. The next few moments passed in quiet before you checked over at a traffic light to see if he was still awake. He was, but he looked dazed. Maybe he had been telling the truth about his head. You eyed his injuries which looked even worse in the red light. Like his entire right side of his face had been smashed.

"So what brought you to Switzerland?"

It wasn't the question you wanted to ask. You wanted to ask him what had happened with the Flag Smashers--why had they beaten him up so badly. But you weren't sure you were ready for that answer or if he'd even give it. So you asked a question you didn't care if he lied to you about.

"I was looking for someone," he said, and the light turned green, causing you to turn away and focus on your driving rather than him. Still the sentence seemed to end earlier than his thought as you could feel the weight of more words hovering between you. It was a familiar pressure in your ears and your chest, and you'd long grown accustomed to the discomfort.

Like many, Joaquin didn't give the thought words to escape on.

"A refugee?" you asked, and he wobbled his head.

"Yes and no. She survived the Snap."

"She?" A small feeling like a tight wire cord wound its way around your chest and a  warmth of embarrassment flooded the back of your neck. "Your sister? Your wife?"

"No," he shook his head. "My grandmother."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him look at you for the first time.

"What's her name?  If she came to the camp I should know her."

"Mariana Torres," he answered, and you ran through the array of faces you'd met. There was a Mariana Böschl , but she was old enough to be his mother, not his grandmother.

You shook your head slowly. "I can check the registry tomorrow, but I don't think she's with us."

"Thanks," Joaquin said, looking back out the window at the passing city. "Were you Blipped?"

"No," you shook your head, pulling into your designated parking spot by your apartment. "I was lucky." The two of you climbed out of the car, and he met you by the trunk, pulling the blankets out before you could reach for them.

"Thank you," you said.  And he gave a small grin.

"Thanks for letting me stay with you."

You gestured with your head up the stairs, heading to your third floor apartment.

Joaquin trailed behind you, arms laden with the blankets, waiting patiently as you stopped and opened the door. "Welcome to my home," you greeted, allowing him to enter before you. Your small apartment was dark, and you flicked on the light so that Joaquin could walk further inside without running into a wall or your table. "You can put the blankets by the couch, I'll wash them tomorrow," you instructed, and he did as you suggested before wandering over to the couch.

"I think I have an extra pillow in the closet," you said.

"Great," he thanked, dropping down onto the couch.

It took a few minutes to find the pillow and put a pillowcase on top of it. By the time you walked back out to the living room, the light was still on, and so were his shoes, but he was passed out. You walked over to the sleeping boy, placing the pillow down next to the couch in case he woke up and pulling the blanket over his body, your eyes once more tracing over his injuries.

You would have to speak to Karli about the violence.

[shelby-love]

TOMMY SHELBY

Marrying Off for Love

Requested: yes (by anonymous)

Prompts: none

Warning(s): language

Word Count: 1.8K

Author's note: I made this as realistic as possible! It ends neutrally I think; not happily but not you know... It's an ending fit for the Peaky Blinders!

This is a Reader x OC / Tommy Shelby x daughter!reader one shot

~

Being free of the name was always a distant thought in your mind. You would weigh the good and the bad of having a last name with significant influence. The good somehow always overthrown the bad, leaving you with everything other than a clear, calm mind.

Sure, the luxury that came with being a Shelby was worth the sacrifice. So was your twisted family, you guessed.

At least until you met him.

A fine man with a heart of gold. Quite literally the only man in Britain worth your while.

He was perfect in every way with his looks and his manners… save for the name, of course.

Alessi Villin.

That was just your luck. Getting attention of your father's rivaling gangsters and falling head over heels in love with the man in charge.

So what does a girl do in that situation?

She chooses love of course.

***

"What the bloody hell is wrong with Y/N?" Asked Arthur after barging into the Garrison that was empty just several moments later. No man stayed upon hearing that the Shelby's were gathering for a meeting. The oldest of the brothers, and coincidentally your favorite one, leaned over the empty bar having decided to fix himself s strong drink.

"How's Linda?" Asked Polly instead, pressing her cigarette against the ash tray. She had left a few cigarettes burn themselves out until the smell started to dominate. Satisfied, she leaned back, never looking more imposing as she did right then.

"She's alright," he mumbled, swinging the glass so the drink practically flew into his throat like a rapid.

"Right," started Ava, discarding her coat on a lone chair before settling in the middle of the huddled Shelby family. "Family meeting."

"We can't start," Arthur announced suddenly, crashing onto a chair with a bottle of scotch in hand. "Y/N's not 'ere."

"Then where in the bloody hell is she?" Ada asked with a tired frown, knowing you were never late for the meetings. You showed your distaste toward them yes, but never in your life have you avoided or been purposely late to one.

It intrigued Tommy to know too. His daughter was his whole world. You were the piece of his past life that not even war could take away. Even though he didn't show it.

But the man shook his head, knowing one thing – his daughter wasn't a stupid girl. Like her aunts, she was every bit as cunning and smart. A true Shelby lady.

But still.

Where were you?

Only Polly Gray knew, but she wasn't going to say a word until it was deemed necessary.

***

The top of the grass hill has overlooked the forests for many years. The soft array of green grass and variously colored wildflowers goes on for miles all around. The air is cool against your skin, with a touch of humidity from the last night's rain.

Your legs stretch out in front of you like you've ran for miles. The blissful feeling from the position you're in eases your tense muscles. It's beautiful really, despite the slightly damp ground. Your back falls against the grass and hair spreads at the ground. The sky is clear, the perfect shade of light blue. It almost looks too good to be true. It makes you smile in delight, as you didn't really remember the last time you truly drew in a fresh breath of air.

The man who had brought you out too see this was even more beautiful. Alessi's carefree smile pursued by eyes the same shade as grass around you put your mind at ease. Helped you think clearly. Something you hadn't done in a long time.

You looked at him and saw what you wanted to be – someone free of chains that hold one's mind back from thinking out of the box. Someone loyal to a fault and loving.

 "Oi! Come here," you bellowed, sitting up and waving your hands in the air to get him away from the red wildflowers and into your arms.

Alessi didn't waste a beat and marched back toward you.

Wrapped in each other's embrace, and you never felt more at home.

That thought scared you. It scared you to know that now, there was another place you called home. In the arms of your father's rival none the less.

But that's what he gets for leaving you to your thoughts all your life. He let you be swallowed by the doubts and insecurities until he couldn't do anything about the said fact.

You had always told yourself; It's the war. The war had done that to him.

But shouldn't a father love his daughter more than anything in the world? Tommy is a complicated man that chose to move his family up in the world as a way to cope with the lingering nightmares of the war.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Alessi had asked, immediately pulling you out of the train of thoughts in your mind.

"That raspy voice of yours is the sweetest of songs to my ears," you mused with a smile, head against his chest that rose and fell with rhythmic ease.

His laugh broke out, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere.

You sat up and reached for his pocket, pulling out his favorite pocket watch to check the time. He had it custom made - the watch – wanting to have both of your initials on the front.

You melted every time you saw it.

"I missed the family meeting," you said suddenly, realization sinking in. Alessi met your eyes after you had finished quietly cursing the planet.

"I mean," you started, "It's not like I wanted to go. That's more of a formality I guess… Showing up and all."

He nodded in understanding but a question stood in front of the understanding, "Then why'd you fall in love with me? My family meeting was 2 days ago."

You bit your lip, not quite knowing how to answer.

Alessi didn't look any different than before asking the question as he stood up off the damp grass, fetching his waistcoat to put on. "What are you doing?"

"Preparing," he simply said, the thick Scouse accent breaking out with the word.

"Preparing for what?" You asked him, scurrying over to stand up.

"To ask you to marry me."

He appeared in front of you, and like a gentleman went down on one knee. There wasn't a gangster in him at that moment, the façade for the public disappeared to show something he showed only you.

Love.

Something you hadn't experienced in a long time.

"I don't care about your family, Y/N." Alessi said, "The only one I care about is you. I don't want to start a war with them because I don't want to see you get hurt. That's how much I care for you. That is just how much I love you."

Whatever happened in the next moments were true.

You had chosen to be someone's bride.

You had chosen a side you would stand by for the rest of your life.

***

The Shelby meeting could be thrown straight in the mud. Every family member went after their thing and the only thing that did seem to flow in peace was the alcohol.

"No, I really think someone kidnapped her." Arthur repeated for the 5th time, truly believing that someone had forcefully taken you as a leverage against them.

"She's not missing."

Polly saw no point in keeping your secret at that moment and so for the first time, you had given her the honors of revealing something instead of you.

"Then where the fuck is she, eh?" Arthur voiced.

Aunt Pol smiled down at Tommy who was holding the wooden chair in a vise grip, not saying a word for a few moments. Her lust for the dramatics only brought new tension into the room. "With the man she loves."

Polly's words shocked everyone present. Arthur choked on his alcohol; Ada's eyes went wide; Lizzie froze in her seat, her cigarette left and forgotten in her hand.

And as your father.

He wore a blank expression on his face even when he asked, "Who?"

Polly chuckled, "Alessi Villin, of course."

"Hold the fuck up!" Arthur butted in. "That bastard Villin we've been having trouble with?! What the hell happened with 'Don't fuck with the Peaky Blinders'? What the hell is wrong with 'er?"

"Y/N was never a Peaky," Polly told him, glancing at Tommy just as those words left her mouth. "But you knew that already, didn't you Tommy?"

"I suspected," Your dad admitted. "Just not with-"

"Your fucking competition…" Ada finished for him, clicking her tongue in pure disbelief, "I say good for her. She'll be the one that managed to get away from this twisted family!"

"Yea and then go to another one that's just like fucking us! Maybe even fucking worse!"

Both Ada and Arthur were shouting at each other now. The two were accompanied by Lizzie who had her own comments to add too.

Polly and Tommy stared each other down, "That boy loves her Tommy," Pol said. "She's his whole world. I saw it with my own eyes. And she loves him too."

Thomas said nothing as his aunt left the stunned family alone in the Garrison pub, ending the Shelby meeting with a single sentence.

***

You stood in front of your father's office door after being summoned the moment you were spotted back in Birmingham. With calm hands you twiddled the ring on your finger as a soon-to-be married woman.

You had a fiancé.

And you had to tell your dad about it.

But given that you missed the meeting, and Polly – the only person that knew – was there to fill in for your absence, you were sure the word has spread. Especially when you spotted Finn acting out the moment he saw you get out of the car. That boy can't keep a secret to save his life.

"You wanted to see me, Dad?" You asked once he called you in.

"Yes," he said, gaze locked on the papers. "Sit down."

You rolled your eyes at the tone and took a seat, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

"An expensive ring you have there," Your father pointed to your left hand with his pen. "Is that what you spend your money on?"

"Was there a reason you wanted to see me?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "I've decided that your engagement to Alessi Villin is a good thing."

Hope sparked at that moment, making you ignore the fact that he knew of the engagement before you even told him. "Really?"

"You have my blessing but should your engagement fail, there is going to be a war. But if you go through with this and marry him, our family and the Villin family will be united forever and this war will be over."

You hardly believed your ears. "Y-you…"

Your father said nothing. "I'm not marrying so you could do business in Liverpool!"

"The Mersey river is Alessi's territory," he tried to reason. "If you marry him than we can-"

"There is no 'we' anymore Dad!" You bellowed through sudden tears, surprising both Tommy and yourself with your voice's strength. "I'm getting bloody married! To the man that I love at last, and you're acting like we're signing a bloody contract!"

The river of words flew out your mouth, "Don't treat me like you treated John! My marriage isn't like his!"

"Now, if that's all," You stood up and fixed your skirt. "I'd like to leave. I have a wedding to plan."

You pressed your cigarette into his ash tray before turning on your heel and leaving your father for the first time in your life, to his own thoughts.

~

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MASTERLIST

[impala1967dwinchester]

Benny Lafitte: Sill Support

Pride Collection 2021 June 21st

Pairing: Human!Benny Lafitte x Fiancee!Fem!Reader

Pov: Readers

Warnings: None, fluff, supportive nature, going to a pride event.

Summary: Even though you and Benny aren’t a part of the LGBTQ+ community it doesn’t matter the two of you don’t support.

WC: 629

A/n- Heterosexual couple, but supportive of the LGBTQ+ Community. @firefly-graphics for the awesome dividers

Pride Collection 2021 Master List

Main Master List

It's taken me a long time to find a good, kind, true man. This world hasn't left a lot of them for straight women. Gosh, this world needs more people like my sweet Benny.

Benny and I met in a classic way, the bar spilling drinks, piercing blue eyes that sadly and greatly I fell in love with. His smooth Louisiana accent, the way he holds himself.

The way he dances with me when the moon is high in the sky. He's just such a great person, and sometimes you well most of the time you don"t see that anymore.

It's sad. During this time of year when so many people come out. Benny wasn't someone who was constantly on the internet, so he wasn't seeing what I was.

The horror stories when parents didn't accept their parents. Or being ignored, denied, and just fully not accepted by the community that the person lived in.

I had taken the time I had on hand and did some basic research to learn about what this community was about. I might add that I figured out where all the good men went. But I've got my good man right next to me snoring his way through his sleep.

Regardless of Benny's snoring, I do really love him, and he truly loves me. On my hand sat two diamonds set into a good band. That right there was enough for me to know that Benny really did love me. He'd do anything for me.

So I continued my research.

According to the internet, and other sources. It says that the month of June is for Pride. Something to do with the 1969 stonewall uprising. A turning point for the gay community. Now's it fifty-two years alter and now it's turned into a full-fledged month of celebration, workshops, and events.

As we lay in our bed, I suggest an idea. Whenever I suggest an idea Benny usually agrees. Letting me take him on wild adventures, and fulling my dreams, and his.

"Benny, honey do you think we could go to a pride parade?" I asked him, he rolled over in the bed the sheets getting caught between our bodies.

"Well, cher I don't see why not." He said kissing my cheek. I smiled and before I could get out of bed, Benny had his arms wrapped around my waist pulling me back down to the comforter.

After a hefty make-out session, Benny let me climb from the sweaty sheets, and take a cold shower. "So, cher what is a pride parade?" he asked as I brushed the fabric of my dress off.

"Hon, it's just an outdoor event for the LGBTQ+ community to let their self-acceptance. I just want to go to show my support. That's all right dear." I asked with an arched eyebrow.

He smiles and walks over wrapping his arms around me once again, and before I know it he's kissing my neck telling me we can go, and that he loves me.

His voice is so sweet and husky all at the same time. His callused hands falling down my arms. For the rest of the day, we spend walking around this pride parade, getting to understand the community a lot more than before.

The understanding, that all the community wants.

"Cher, I love you baby, but you look like the sun beat down on ya today. Let's go home." He says grabbing me and sweeping me off my feet before taking me back to the car.

He really is the love of my life. Look at the way he carries himself, look at the way he takes care of me. Just look at him. I think if I fell anymore in love with him my heart would burst.

Completed on: 06/20/2021

Posted on: 06/21/2021