#straight up struttin' his shit

[korn-maze]

🖤L A B Y R I N T H🖤

[amyfevernight]

What i learned from All Engines Go without actually watching the show (Season 2)

Yep, Season 2 is done, here we go again. Season 1 + Shorts if you wanna read that, here we GOOOOO

Percy Disappears: PERCY DIDN’T LEARN SHIT FROM DAY OF THE DIESELS Shake, Rattle, & Bruno: DIESEL CAN’T UNDERSTAND AUTISM FOR 11 MINUTES STRAIGHT Fast Friends: WHAT THE FUCK DID I SAY ABOUT BEING A SPEED DEMON Ashima's Amazing Arrival: STOP BEING SUCH A FUCKING TRY-HARD Tri-and-a-Half-a-Lon: SPORTS. AND ALSO NIA’S TURN TO BE AN ATTENTION WHORE Carly's Magnificent Magnet: TESS, STOP BEING SUCH A GODDAMN TEENAGER New Mail Engine in Town: PERCY’S TURN TO BE AN ATTENTION WHORE Hot Air Percy: HOW DOES A FUCKING HOT AIR BALLOON SNATCH UP A TRAIN ANYWAY? Carly's Screechy Squeak: JUST GET THE SAND OUT. IT’S NOT THAT HARD. Blackout!: THOMAS IS AN ATTENTION WHORE: REVELATIONS Brand New Track: IT’S JUST A NEW LINE, YOU GUYS Stink Monster: WHIFF IS A DANGEROUS SOCIOPATH, CALL THE POLICE Whiteout!: LITERALLY A COPY-PASTE OF BLACKOUT BUT WITH A WINTER STORM INSTEAD OF THUNDER, SEE ME AFTER CLASS Christmas Mountain: CHRISTMAS IS AWESOME Good as New: Eventually, one day, you have to let go of the things you love- NO SCRATCH THAT BUY OUR TOYS More Than a Pretty Engine: ASHIMA IS THE ONLY SMART TRAIN HERE I SWEAR Snowplow Struttin: THEN WHAT THE FFFFFUCK IS THE SNOWPLOW FOR?! Thomas in Charge: OH GOD DAMNIT NOT THIS BULLSHIT AGAIN Kana Recharges: “LEAVE ME ALONE” MEANS “LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE” The Big Skunk Funk: SKUNKS ARE JERKS Off the Rails: [INDIANA JONES INTENSIFIES] Diesel’s Dilemma: NO NO NOOOO STICK TO THE STUFF YOU KNOOOOW A Very Percy Valentine's Day: ALL I GOT FROM THIS IS “MY FUCKIN’ GOD, DIESEL IS GAY, GOOD FOR HIM, GOOD FOR HIM” Valentine's Hearts: AH YES, THE PERFECT GIFT, LITERAL DEATH BY ELECTROCUTION Bring it on Beresford: CAN YOU STOP HAVING PISSING CONTESTS FOR FIVE MINUTES What's in a Name?: THEY LITERALLY DON’T EVEN LOOK THE SAME, HOW DO YOU GET THEM CONFUSED? Sheep Shenanigans: DIESEL AND THE DUCKLINGS BUT WITH SHEEP. Tunnel Troubles: JESUS CHRIST YOU GUYS, THE PISSING CONTESTS NEED TO STOP The Case of the Missing Crane: HOW THE FUCK DO YOU LOSE A CRANE??? Not-So-Secret Mission: TOPHAT HOW THE FUCK DO YOU BREAK ALL OF THE FUCKING LAMP-POSTS??? Speedster Sandy: WHAT. DID I SAY. ABOUT BEING. A FUCKING TRY HARD. For All the Marble: THOMAS IS A DUMBASS, SHOULD’VE FUCKING LISTENED TO BRUNO. Salty’s Sea Shanty: HOLY SHIT SALTY’S BACK AND HE’S SO FUCKING COOL Retrieve the Kraken: BALLOONS. ARE. FUCKING. AWESOME. SALTY IS STILL FUCKING AWESOME TOO, HE DOESN’T AFRAID OF ANYTHING Rocket’s Fall: YOU GOT YOUR CONTINUITY IN MY FUNNY TRAIN SHOW Details? What Details?: TOPHAT’S A DUMBASS, ALSO THOMAS HAS THE MEMORY OF A GOLDFISH Blue Engine Blues: IS THIS AN ALLEGORY FOR DEPRESSION? I FEEL LIKE THIS IS AN ALLEGORY FOR DEPRESSION Hay Fort Frenzy: MOTHERFUCKING TERENCE IS BACK? OH, HE’S A LITTLE SHIT NOW, OKAY. Percy in the Middle: JUST GET GORDON TO REFEREE FFS Bad Luck Boxcar: THIS IS JUST THOMAS��� NOT-SO-LUCKY DAY AGAIN, SEE ME AFTER CLASS. Not-So-Easy Greasy: GREASE I GUESS? It All Adds Up: THE NORTHERN LIGHTS ARE AWESOME Bruno’s Map Mishap: CAN YOU GUYS LEAVE THIS POOR BOY ALONE Seeking A Safer Sodor: EMILY REALLY SAID NO FUN ALLOWED A Cranky Goodbye: CRANKY IS A MESS WHEN IT COMES TO SHARING HIS FEELINGS? YEAH ME TOO, JOIN THE CLUB Sameroo: IF YOU WANNA BE COOL FOLLOW ONE SIMPLE RULE DON’T MESS WITH THE FLOW NO NOOOOO STICK TO THE STATUS QUO Thomas for a Day: You can’t pretend to be someone you’re not. NOW FORGET THAT LESSON FOR A MINUTE YOU LITTLE SHIT, LOOK, IT’S PERCY BUT BLUE, BUY OUR TOYS. The Super Axle: OH HI TOBY’S BACK- OH HE HAS SELF-WORTH ISSUES The Waiting Game: AT LEAST DO SOMETHING WHILE YOU WAIT?? I DUNNO All Wheels on Track: ENGINES ARE FUCKING USELESS FOR NO REASON HERE Something Broken, Something Blue: Eventually, one day, you have to let go of the things you love. For real this time- NOPE JUST KIDDING BUY OUR FUCKING TOYS HAHA YOU FELL FOR IT AGAIN The Sights of Sodor: MOUNTAINS ARE AWESOME EXCEPT NO THEY AREN’T, FUCK YOURSELF

[mego42]

while I was not specifically prompted, @foxmagpie posted a fic request that made my brain go hmmmmmmmm, so I went ahead and pretended it was a prompt for me because I do what I want.

i want to read a fic from rio’s POV of 2.10 when annie reached out to him both because i think annie trying to arrange a business proposition would be hilarious but also because i suspect that rio thought beth was either orchestrating things or that it would be a way to get her back and i wanna get in his head about it

can we meet

All in all, it's a pretty standard text. Rio could probably scroll through his phone and find at least 15 others at any given point. More if he didn't dump his phones every week or two. Even more if he didn't have Mick filtering most of the bullshit for him. 

But that's the thing, he does have Mick, which means when these kinds of texts make it all the way to him, he knows who they're from and what they want. The problem here is he doesn't know who the fuck this is or what they want or, most importantly, how the fuck they got this number. 

And that last part especially is a big enough fuckin' problem that he shuts his laptop and scoops up his phone, swiping through to call and see who it is. 

"Hello?"

He doesn't immediately recognize the voice that picks up, though it pings something. He waits, still not saying anything, figurin' he'll either place it, or they'll give themselves away. It's fuckin' unbelievable the kind of shit people will say if he just keeps his mouth shut and waits 'em out. 

"Is this…" The voice trails off, and he's right on the cusp of placin' it, can feel a face bubbling to the surface when it continues in a whisper. "Gang friend?"

The fuckin' sister. 

Rio's mouth snaps shut so hard it sends a pang through his jaw, and he's pretty sure she heard his teeth click together over the phone. 

There are motherfuckers who would kill—hell, who have killed—for his number, and here's this suburban bopper callin' him up like she can summon him or some shit. Like she has the right.

And isn't that just like Elizabeth, makin' her sister call? After her pretty little fuckin' speech, that prim, butter wouldn't melt it's over, leavin' his cut on the goddamn nightstand like he was some kind of hired help. 

His phone case creaks, giving slightly under the force of his grip, and he forces himself to relax. He leans back in his chair, drumming his fingers on his desk, tryin' to figure out how he wants to play this.  

He fuckin' knew it. 

He's not about to pretend the victory isn't at least a little sweet underneath the bitter rage just thinking 'bout their stalemate brings to the surface. He knew Elizabeth wasn't gonna walk away. She couldn't, she didn't have it in her. 

It isn't enough, though, knowing he was right. It's barely a dent, a scratch, a fuckin' scuff in the debt she owes him, the mountain of shit he's gonna make her pay for.

"Hello?"

He hasn't said anything yet, and it's makin' the sister antsy, he can tell. There's a static, scratching noise, and he realizes she's put her thumb over the speaker or something because he can hear what she says next, but it's muffled. 

"Are you sure this is the right number?"

Something in him bottoms out—he's not exactly tryin' too hard to identify what. The bright, bitter flair of satisfaction's gone as quickly as it came, leaving a dark, hollow space behind. 

The sister's actin' out then, going rogue. Elizabeth knows damn well what his number is. She hasn't exactly been too shy 'bout usin' it whenever she needs a payday loan. Or other services for that fuckin' matter. 

He can't help but laugh at that, but it's a harsh, biting sound. The audacity must be genetic. 

"Okay, now I know you're there. Stop being a dick."

He should hang the fuck up, now that he knows who it is. Hang up, block the number, forget all about that bitch and the sister. It's probably the smartest thing to do, all told. 

Except. Except she fuckin' owes him, and Rio hasn't gotten to the top by letting debts go unanswered. 

"What?" He asks, giving the t an edge sharp enough to cut. 

There's a pause. "What like you didn't hear me, or what like what do I want?"

Rio adjusts a potted bromeliad's alignment on the corner of his desk, running a finger along the edge of one of the tall, spikey leaves. Mick had dropped it on his desk one day with no fanfare, only snide commentary about Rio needing to take a vacation, and maybe this'll get him thinkin' 'bout it.

The annoying part is, it's not like the disrespectful fucker's wrong. Rio knows damn well he's let himself get far too twisted up in Elizabeth's bullshit. Offerin' to deal with her problems, lettin' her get away with all kinds of amateur hour bullshit like bringing her fuckin' kids on drops. He never should've let her strong-arm him into cuttin' her in. It's not like she's the first person to try, should've dealt with her like he would anyone else, string her up and don't give her the option to not tell him where his shit is. 

Hell, further back than that, he never should've followed her into that motherfuckin' bathroom. Should've kept it business, should've never found out how soft those miles of pale skin really are, how far that delicate pink flush can spread, how unexpectedly dark and rich she tastes.

Disgusted with himself, he shoves up out of his chair, pacing around the tiny, concrete floors of the control room currently serving as his office in long, loping strides.

He should take a week. Tie things up, take Marcus to Disneyland, or some shit. Get some fuckin' distance. Perspective. 

"Hello?"

Now the sister sounds like she's getting annoyed, and Rio's really gotta do somethin' about the two of them runnin' 'round actin' like he's someone they can get away with not takin' seriously. Like he's some sort of pet. Defanged. Declawed. Fuckin' neutered. 

"Get to the point."

"I mean, I kind of did in the message." 

Rio can hear some kind of groan or somethin' from the background. Probably the friend. She was the only one of the three of them who ever seemed to really get what kind of waters they were swimming in. How deep they were and what kind of monsters lurked beneath the surface.

"Yeah, that ain't really how we do things."

"I know, I...look—" He has to yank the phone away from his ear when she sighs, loud as shit, right into it. "Something...I mean, um. I know Beth quit, but, uh…"

He tunes her out, the way she's going, she'll be stutterin' her way around to her point about a half an hour from now. 

She wants a fuckin' favor, a hookup. They always do. Not just these bitches but everyone. Once you're at the top, all people want is a piece; it's only a matter of whether or not they're gonna beg for it or try to take it. Every now and then, they try to earn it. 

It’s one of the things he'd liked best about Elizabeth from the jump. Yeah, sure, she was arrogant as shit, struttin' 'round in those heels like she understood the rules the world played by. Like she could twist anything and everything' round her pretty little fingers and get away with whatever the fuck she wanted as long as she batted those big, blue eyes just right. 

But she was willin' to work for it. She might’ve expected to be awarded a piece just because she worked hard and that was the fair exchange for her effort. And isn’t that a trip? The idea of livin’ in a world where fair meant somethin’. Still, that didn’t mean she wasn’t gonna get down in the dirt and scrap for it. 

Her problem is—well, one of 'em, he doesn't even have enough warehouses to house 'em all—she looked out at her tidy little garden and thought that was the dirt. She didn't want to accept there's a whole other subterranean playing field underneath all of that. 

He'd seen it though, the thing with teeth and claws she had locked up inside her. It'd come out in flashes and splinters, peaking through the bars of the cage she kept it in, eyes flashing, tail lashing, and he couldn't help it, the urge to see what would happen if he pulled its tail. Let it loose. 

Rio stops pacing, coming to a halt in front of one of the huge paneled windows in the exterior wall of his office, leaning up against the edge and looking out. The panes are dingy, giving his view of the Michigan winter sky a bleak, barren cast. Not that it needed any more of one. This warehouse sits on the edge of a train yard, the miles of rust and concrete below reaching out towards the horizon. All grey and dirty red, broken up by the occasional patch of strangled grass or vibrant streaks of neon tags left behind to defiantly mark the artists’ passing. 

"...I guess what I'm saying is, you know, you still have options in this, um, market. If you catch my drift. I'm hoping that we can figure a way to continue this mutually beneficial arrangement…"

The sister's still going, so he ticks through his options. 

He'd have preferred Elizabeth came crawling back all on her own. That'd be ideal. He hadn't decided yet if he'd initially shut her out, make her work for reentry, and then make her pay, or go straight to the main event. It would've depended on the circumstances, what was most advantageous at the time. All good plans are flexible. He’s learned the hard way to always take contingencies into account. 

She would've, though. Come crawling back. It was only a matter of time. She's had a taste now, she'd let herself go just enough, she wasn’t gonna be able to pack herself back away in that soul-sucking suburban box of a house, of a life. Not for long.

Beyond that, there was the money. She might've thought she had enough, but four kids, three mortgages, and a moron with a talent for squandering every last thing he's given? That's a lot of financial upkeep. 

'Sides, even if she thought she was in the black, he was still keepin' tabs on all of them—it wasn't even personal, just good business, they were too new, too green, too unpredictable to go without the extra surveillance—and he knew that wasn’t the case across the board. Elizabeth might've been in an okay spot for now, but the sister and the friend sure as shit were not, and if there's one way to get Elizabeth to jump, it's come through her people. 

And on the off chance that all of that failed to come to fruition—always a possibility, she's stubborn as shit and not above gettin' into some kind of dumbass, fucked up mess to keep from backin' down—he's got his little landfill insurance policy tucked away on ice if he ever needs to really force her hand. 

"So, what do you say?" The sister‘s finally run out of steam.

Rio runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip and tucks it in his cheek. 

Now that he’s really thinkin’ about it, this might actually be a better option than any of the ones already on the table. There's no way the sister and the friend are gonna pull some shit all the way off, not on their own. He knows how to read a room, it’s been the thing that’s kept him alive more than once, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt, the two of them aren’t half as effective on their own. They don't have Elizabeth's steely determination, her gift for spinning bullshit into gold. Not only that but there’s too much friction there. They need Elizabeth to grease their wheels. He can toss 'em some piddly shit that don't matter and let 'em get tangled up. Give 'em enough rope and all of that.

And hey, it's not like he came after her—them. If anything, he's tryin' to help. He’s givin’ them the same opportunity to earn some money, build their own side hustle. He's practically the good guy here.

The thought makes him laugh, this time like it's actually funny.

"Okay, well, thanks for that. You know, you don't have to be rude. I just thought—"

"Park. 2 pm."

"What? Oh! Seriously? Okay, great. Wow, that is...phew. That is a load off, you don't even kno—"

Rio cuts her off, locking his phone and tucking it back in his pocket, then tapping his fist against the window. 

Three seagulls are down in the warehouse parking lot fighting over scraps of something. Even all the way up here, he can hear 'em cawing, screamin', tearin' into each other for the same piece of the pie. After a minute, one of ‘em rips whatever it is away from the other two, swallows it and takes off. The others follow a beat behind, and he watches the three of ‘em fly directly overhead until the building obscure his view. 

Either Elizabeth'll come to him, or this will give him a new string to tug, somethin' he can use to yank her right back under his thumb. He'll get her right back where he wants her and then he'll— He'll—

Well. He'll just have to see. 

[they-callme-ami]

Double Dutch. (aka the drunk! Elijah, Aurora, black!MC and Tobias fic)

Note: This story uses lots of AAVE (African American Vernacular English) and is mostly intended for a black audience--you can still read for funsies or whatever, but I better not hear some shit about it not being inclusive or using 'improper grammar'.

Tags: @what-do-you-mean-theyre-evil @tyrils-star @melaninnntae @indescribablybre @prism-goddess

It started innocently enough: you were helping Aurora wrap her hair, pinning it up and tying the scarf around it.  Elijah rolled into the living room in his pajamas. You three were the only ones at home since you three had worked later than Jackie, Bryce and Sienna and didn’t feel like going out that night.  But y’all weren’t opposed to chillin and talkin’ shit. 

It had been a long ass day. Ethan was getting on every damn nerve you had, either talking about his mom and their strained relationship or bugging you about your cases. The man just did not leave you alone, and normally it was cool--but today he needed to back the fuck up and stop talkin shit about Tobias. It was gettin old. Not only that, but you had your own intern to deal with--which is what you were going on about now.

“I’m telling you Elijah--I love Esme but that girl is too fuckin much!  She always stay talkin back to the other attendings, nearly started a fight with another intern, and even when she asks for my advice she don’t listen! Thinkin she know everything….fuckin stubborn headass..” You sigh while twisting your hair.  

“Uh-huh. Sounds like a familiar head-ass doctor I know.  You were on trial last year, stoopid!  I know your ass not talkin bout Esme.  She’s a breeze compared to Sothy… he barely knows how to do anythin--it's a damn miracle he graduated y’know.”

“And who’s fault is that Elijah--oh, excuse me, Oracle.”  Aurora smirked and laughed as Elijah could only sit there, ultimately taking the L.

As y’all were about to go in on each other, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh! Finally, must be the package I ordered.  I hope y’all are ready to see me strut the halls in my new---”  You open the door, only to see Tobias there in some sweats with some take out food and a paper bag.

“Not a package, but I’d love to see what you plan on struttin in.”  He teased and smirked.

“SHIT---Uh---why are you here so late---”  You had your bonnet on and a big ass t-shirt with some stains on it and some basketball shorts.  It was the first time he'd seen you so casual.

"Easy there firecracker, I didn't expect you to look--what are the kids saying--'beat and snatched' 24/7." He pecked your lips and walked in. 

“I invited him Y/N. Tobias, don't ever try and say that shit again and bring me my wings.”  Aurora smiled and laughed, seeming to not be phased by her boss seeing her in a scarf and acne cream dotting her face.  Was she just so tired from work she didn’t care?  Who were you kidding, this girl was a complete trip after a long day and was just sayin ‘fuck it’.

“Elijah, I got Tobias to grab you some of that shrimp scampi from that place downtown, and Y/N--he got you your favorite cause I told him and you his new boo thing.”  Aurora smirked with a wing in hand, and Elijah playfully gagged while Tobias handed out takeout containers and handed yours over. Yup, it was your favorite dish from your favorite place.  

“Now--I was invited for 3 reasons: A.) I have a car so I could do the food run and get y’all spoiled asses some good food.  B.)  I live 5 blocks away from the liquor store so--” He held up a bottle from the bag he had--Hennessy, cause of course he’d get the most stereotypical dr--”And C.) I had to pull a double shift so I’m tired and nice enough to share some college Ramsey stories with y’all.”

So there you were, sipping on your glass and laughing as Tobias was explaining how Ethan thought that ‘double dutch’ was some kind of dessert or innuendo for a threesome with exchange students.

“Wait wait---no no you gotta be kiddin me.  Fuckin 4.0 Med school GPA Ramsey--future head of Edenbrooks Diagnostics Team--thought double dutch was some kinda play on words?  I have to laugh…” Elinah snorts. You couldn’t help but burst into whoops and hollars, laughing and even Aurora couldn’t hide the smile on her face after she almost choked on her drink.

“Uh-huh.  Even after I told him what it was, he insisted that he had to see ‘it’.  I took him to my old neighborhood, and watched four 9 year old girls school him while he nearly fell flat on his face!”  Tobias laughed and smiled as he recalled the memory.  “For someone so fuckin smart--I swear to god he’s a dumbass.  Arrogant too, he never wanted to jump rope at the gym anymore.”

Something inside you flipped on.  You took a sip of Henny and smirked.  

“Well, I knew he had the fuckin long-ass neck of a giraffe, but clearly them legs ain’t doin him a favor either.”  Tobias nearly spat his drink and crumbled on the floor into laughter, Elijah slamming his hand on the table and laughing with him.  It was taking all of Aurora’s willpower to not laugh and act a fool.  “I mean, I know he ain’t got any rhythm either!  Mothafucka was clappin OFFBEAT during Donahue’s karaoke night, but I’m supposed to trust him to count how many heartbeats a patient has.”  You joke again, and Elijah was holding his sides.

“Fuck---he---Y/N shut the hell up!”  Tobias laughed and playfully pushed your shoulder.  “Pass me the damn bottle….y’all lemme tell you somethin worse than that--his cooking.  The man can’t stay on beat let alone beat a fuckin egg.  Y/N--tell ‘em bout the chicken.”

“He---He invited me home after work or somethin--and he wanted me to help him with this recipe he saw for chicken.  Y’all, it was the BLANDEST ass recipe I ever saw in my life.  I was terrified to eat whatever the fuck he was makin, it was so bad his dad even helped out and said how it needed some proper seasoning.  I had never seen an old man so disappointed in such an empty spice cabinet.  I had to leave.”  You snicker as you retell the story.  “Even worse?  He tried to bring me some leftovers afterwards and by god was that mothafucka dry as HELL---y’know what, lemme calm down cause I am not about to yell over some bland ass chicken.”  You chugged down the Henny and grabbed the bottle to pour another glass.

“Y’know….for someone who seemed real eager to stuff a chicken, he cannot seem to tell he got a stick stuffed far up his ass.  No wonder he walks around like an emotionally constipated man-baby.”  Aurora said with a straight face as she chugged her own drink.  You turned away, laughing and doing a spit take as Tobias slammed his fist on the table, snorting while Elijah simply was in awe at Aurora’s words. 

 “My first week there, I was assigned to Y/N and cause my auntie was makin me give her full on oral essays of every case I had, I missed out on one of ours and nearly let a patient die.  Now---his ass knows this.  He knows exactly who the fuck I am and who the fuck my aunt is.  And what did he do?  Chewed me out without a second thought.  I was *this* close to curb stomping his ass I swear--He even called Y/N amature after saving someone’s life because it ‘was sloppy’ and ‘wasn’t professional enough’.  And another thing--” 

You watched Aurora stand up, Henny in her hand, and just goin off on Ethan.  She was tearing into him, from him being able to get off the hook for punching Declan, verbally avicerating innocent interns, being all high and mighty--man, she hated his ass.  Elijah was just eating his scampi, vibing and Tobias was smiling like a proud parent, eating his burger. 

 “He gon have the nerve--the audacity--the CAUCASITY to assume that I’M trippin because I told him about Landry being all rude and dismissive of one of his black-female patients.  He nearly put ME on probation for helping deliver the baby properly when Landry prescribed her the wrong treatment for something cause neither of them will ever fuckin LISTEN and--”  You could not have been any more impressed.  You were just soaking it all in.  She finally sat back down and ate some of her wings.

Tobias sighs and grins.  “Damn. Elijah, you been real quiet...you wanna add your two cents?” he asks while Tobias took a big gulp and sat the glass back down.  He took a deep breath.

“No, no….I just want his long-neck-headass, mommy-didn’t-love-me-so-I’m-a-lil-bitch-headass, grudge-holding-grown-ass-man-headass, lemme-insult-my-interns-headass, pompous, privileged, irritating, high and oh so fuckin’ mighty ass to humble himself and learn to get his head and the stick he got outta his ass.  It ain’t cute to just bash everyone around you cause yo ass is feelin like Hamilton, ‘smartest in the room’ mofo.”  He said, all very calmly while finishing his drink.   You, Tobias and Aurora just exchanged a look….and broke out into a fit of laughs and smiling. 

A few drinks later and a hella amount of roasts later, you were cuddled up with Tobias while Elijah laid out on Aurora's lap. 

"Damn…..we really been up for hours now. Jackie and Sienna still out…" Elijah piped up and checked his phone. "They're at Bryce's place, having a 'girls night' with Keiki and sleepin over…..ooooo, Tobias should sleep over too!" He showed y'all a photo Sienna sent. 

"Uh-huh, you should! We can watch movies and... oh Elijah your hair is sooooo soft." Aurora smiled and was playfully twisting it. Seems like the drinks were finally hitting.  Tobias could tell too.

He managed to help Elijah back in his wheelchair and followed his directions to his room.  He came back out to you helping Aurora to her room.

"Byyyye boss. See ya at work! If you do stay over, y'all better be quiet while he rearrange them guts!" She poked you laughing as you rolled your eyes and got her in bed.  You walked back out, feeling tipsy yourself and plopped on the couch...with Tobias.

"Y'know….your friends definitely know how to go all in on a roast session. I found out shit about Ethan I didn't know till now."

"Mhmmmm….Henny is….is a miracle worker…" you slurred and laughed, laying up on him. "And yoooooouuu….are a fine-ass pillow." 

Before you succumbed to the exhaustion and hennessy, you felt Tobias's lips peck your cheek gently and his arms hold you tight against him.

The next day at work, you were taking your break and went outside to the courtyard...much to your surprise you found a few children--presumabley patients-- playing double dutch with some jump rope.

"Apples, peaches, pears, and plums

Tell me when your birthday comes! 1! 2! 3! 4!"

They were counting along as you hopped inside the rope, showing off a bit and laughing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ethan walking towards the building.

"Hey, Ethan, wanna join? It may not be a dessert or two dutch girls--but it'll be fun!" You called out and teased while working the ropes. You could see his face turn red from where you were, and him muttering softly about Tobias. You couldn't help but laugh as you kept skipping and hopping away.

[artofalexfields]

Maxwell St. Lawrence 

• 17 • gay • African American • Brooklyn • Aquarius♒ Maxwell was born in Brooklyn and lives with his father, an MTA contractor, his mother, a paralegal and his younger brother who attends school with him. Growing up, he was always popular and well liked by his classmates. He had a close-nit clique of girls that he hung out with and the boys would always ask him how he's able to get so many girls to like him. He took dance classes after school with his brother in middle school and was the best in the class. When 8th grade prom came, his best friend asked him to prom and admitted to having a crush on him. However, he didn't return her feelings, something he was confused about until high school when he realized he didn't like girls at all. He became a target of bullying when he began showing up to school wearing make-up and heels. When his brother, Daysean found out, he sought to put an end to it. 

Maxwell runs the LGBTQ Safe Space at school which he started as a freshman. 

He is an unofficial member of a ballroom house called The House Of Millennia and the outfit he's wearing is a costume he designed and wore when he auditioned to walk a category for "Military realness."

Maxwell dreams of attending Parsons School of Design and becoming a fashion designer.

Maxwell: Oh my god! I love your shirt. Is that Sasuke?

Julio: Yeah, it’s Sasuke.

Amaya: Dude! We found another Naruto fan! Naruto’s our shit.

Maxwell: Yaaasss, babe! Is Sasuke your favorite character?

Julio: Y-Yeah.

Maxwell: You think he’s cute?

Julio: Yeah (laughs nervously).

Maxwell: Girl, you’re in the LGBTQ Safe Space. If you got a crush on an anime boy hottie, say it loud and say it proud. Ain’t no shame here.

Amaya: Exactly. Yo, I’ve had this huge crush on Hinata since I started reading the manga in middle school.

Maxwell: Mm-hm, you like them little shy girls, dontcha, Amaya?

Amaya: I can’t help it. She’s fucking adorable and I love the Hyuga clan’s kekkei genkai! What about you, Julio? If you could have any of the kekkei genkai from any of the clans, what would you have? The sharingan?

Julio: I guess.

Maxwell: If I could have any kekkai genkai, I’d have the Nara clan’s shadow jutsu. 

Julio: Why?

Maxwell: So I could make somebody look like a damn fool (laughs). Especially all these boys out here who keep frontin’ like they don’t think these heels are on point. 

Julio: How do you walk in those?

Maxwell: (laughs) My brother be askin’ me the same thing. It takes practice, hon. I mean your braces hurt when you first got them, right? 

Julio: Yeah.

Maxwell: Beauty always takes a little pain but once you go through it, it is worth it. These boys out here think they can bring me down when they dis me but I’m a queen, honey, struttin’ in these stilettos and you cannot bring down a queen.

Amaya: Well, historically speaking, the queen of Hawaii was brought down and then there was Queen Elizabeth II...

Maxwell: Ok, ok, Ms. Straight-A--

Amaya: (laughs) I’m just sayin.’

Maxwell: Why you gotta go and ruin my moment? I was sittin’ here trying to inspire this gorgeous queen here and you had to come in and rain on the parade with your history.

Julio: I’m not a queen (laughs nervously).

Maxwell: You gay, right?

Julio: Y--Yeah.

Maxwell: Girl, there’s a queen inside of all of us. 

Amaya: Preach.

Maxwell: I know you’re one those shy and modest boys who doesn’t know how great you are yet but once you find that confidence, you’ll see that. You see, here at the LGBTQ Safe Space, we’re all about teaching self-love and finding the beauty in each other. If we don’t lift each other up and see the beauty in each other, who will? We’re all we got. 

The group ended for the day and everyone went home. Julio mustered up the courage to approach Maxwell at his locker. 

Julio: H--Hey.

Maxwell: Yes, hon?

Julio: Um, I just wanted to say “thanks.”

Maxwell: For what?

Julio: For what you said about me being a--a queen. No one has ever made me feel that valuable before. 

Maxwell: Oh course, hon! It’s like I said, we all have to lift each other up. 

Julio: So um...

Maxwell looks at Julio and then turns back to his locker to get a book. 

Maxwell: Don’t be shy. 

A couple of boys who are horsing around in the hallway across from them start snickering under their breaths and pointing at Maxwell’s shoes. Maxwell doesn’t seem phased but Julio is afraid to say what he wants in front of them. 

Julio: Um, never-mind. I’ll see you around.

Maxwell: Ok, hon. See you!

Julio leaves. Maxwell turns around to the boys as they laugh at him. 

Boy 1: Nice shoes, fag.

Maxwell: Thank you! I’d say I got them from your mother but there’s no way a woman with such great taste dressed you.

Boy 2: That supposed to be a joke?

Maxwell closes his locker after putting his book into his purse. 

Maxwell: No, honey because the only joke here is your sorry asses. Now, excuse me, these shoes need to take this fag home. 

[deathsteel]

This Ain't a Scene Its a God Damn Drag Race

~Part Four~

“Woof,” Dianne remarked under her breath from her place on Holly’s left.

And as the mini-challenge’s guest judge came in through the workroom’s main entrance, well Holly’s long neglected libido couldn’t help but agree. Though Holly’s type was usually more along the lines of otter than a full on muscle bear it was clear that the man decked out in a grey Marine Corps t-shirt and snug fitting camo pants taking his place at Gabby’s side had clearly worked to earn his very accurate nickname.

The queens engaged in some polite applause for the sergeant, causing the newcomer to smile widely at them revealing endearing little forehead wrinkles and crinkles at the corners of his eyes that gave away the fact that the drill instructor probably smiled quite a lot.

“Ladies,” The guest acknowledged, not even faltering with the title or blinking at the little sigh that came out of Kim when the queen on Holly’s other side heard the legitimate deep Southern drawl of the judge’s voice. “I’m here today to make you sweat.”

“Yes, please,” Tasha said loud enough to earn a bark of laughter turned cough from Sam who was standing with Zeke off to the side.

“Sergeant Lafitte,” Gabby began, putting a hand on the other man’s bicep only to pause for a moment to squeeze the muscle with an appreciative little moue. “May I call you The Bear?”

“You can call me Benny, sugar,” the drill instructor replied with a wink, earning a laugh/cough from Zeke this time and a scowl from Sam.

“Ooh, well Benny then,” Gabby continued, fanning himself dramatically with his free hand as he turned back to the queens. “Will be putting you through your paces at booty camp and the rules for this challenge are simple, last queen standing wins a special advantage for this week’s runway.”

There were excited titters amongst the queens, again all for the cameras because by this point all of the contestants knew what the stakes of the mini-challenges were, but half of drag was acting so they made it look good.

“Well, alrighty-then,” Gabby bubbled for the camera. “Have at ‘em, Benny-Bear.”

The sergeant smiled again at the host before doing a crisp turn on his heel to face the contestants. Gabby started to swan over towards Sam and Zeke, off camera but close enough to get reaction shots should something outrageous happen.

“Ten-Hut, ladies!” Benny shouted, crossing his arms over his chest as he inspected the queens in front of him for a long moment. “We’re starting with jumping jacks girls, assume the position.”

“I’ll assume your position,” Dianne offered with a flirty wink at the drill sergeant.

“You’d probably assume right,” Benny fired back with a wink of his own as he paced in front of the row of contestants. “Now start jumping.”

Now Holly had a lot of experience dancing and struttin’ and shaking her ass off in heels, but she’d never bothered trying to do a jumping jack and it was honestly much harder than she’d thought it would be. Within a minute she was sweating and desperately wishing she had swiped some anti-perspirant across her hairline before starting.

“I don’t know but I been told,” Benny sing-songed in time to the queens’ measured pace, gesturing for them to repeat it when they just kept jumping and panting. “But drag queen shade is mighty cold.”

Kim laughed as they all repeated the sergeant's words and Holly resented the younger queen for having caught her breath enough to do that.

“Okay, now switch to push ups,” Benny instructed, stopping to demonstrate the exercise when Dianne claimed to not know what it was. Holly took the opportunity to mop up her face with the neckline of her tank top while the other queens admired Benny’s….*ahem* form.

“Got it, sweetheart?” Benny asked Dianne who was fanning herself as she watched the other man get back on his feet and earning an enthusiastic nod in reply. “Great, now drop and give me fifty!”

“Fucking fifty?” Holly heard Tasha mutter under her breath and Holly really couldn’t agree more.

They were about twenty push ups in when Benny’s combat boots stomped quickly out of Holly’s eyeline to the other end of the workroom.

“Eva Destruction, you’re out,” Benny’s voice declared to the room at large.

“Whatever,” Holly heard Eva reply bitterly. “I’m too old for this shit.”

Pull ups knocked out Tasha Salad (“I ain’t winning nothing with these skinny chicken arms, baby.”) and Dianne Tawank kicked off her heels during high-knee running in place (“I’d rather just watch the show, darling.”) which just left Holly Cummunion and Kim Chi battling it out once Benny instructed the queens to start doing sit ups.

“Alright ladies,” Gabby called from across the workroom. “This will decide who gets this week’s special advantage so you better werk!”

Holly let out a sigh of relief as her overheated skin hit the cool surface of the workroom’s concrete floor; in fact she was pretty sure she had never been more satisfied with being on her back than at that very moment.

“We're doing sit ups till one of you cries uncle, ladies,” Benny declared, planting himself firmly in front of the spot that Holly and Kim had lain down to do their sit ups. Which was conveniently right where the cameras could get a wide shot of almost the entire workroom.

“Well I’d prefer to call you daddy, but uncle works too I guess,” Kim quipped brightly, surprising a laugh out of Holly even as they started in on their sit ups with Benny counting them off. The younger queen really had the whole pretty and charmingly dumb act down pat.

It didn’t take long before Holly’s abs started burning. Like, she’d already been sweaty and out of breath before she and Kim had started their showdown, but now her arms were trembling and she was genuinely struggling to keep pace with the other queen as she plowed through sit ups like it was nothing. Holly started making what she was sure were supremely unattractive little grunts every time she reached the apex of a sit up and her sweat band wasn’t doing much to keep her eyes from burning; probably melting her eyeliner right off her face.

Holly could feel herself starting to slow down even before she saw Benny’s focus shift towards her faltering sit ups and it wasn’t less than five reps later that the drill sergeant was barking out that Kim Chi was the winner of the week’s mini-challenge.

“I’d say ‘fuck me’,” Holly drawled as one of the cameras zoomed in to catch the panting puddle she had collapsed back into on the floor while Kim popped up and did a little victory shimmy. “But I don’t think I’d survive it at this point.”

Holly heard a familiar chuckle above her and looked up to see Sam offering her a hand up off the floor while the cameras trickled away to get shots from the other queens as they mopped themselves up before Gabby gave them further instructions for tomorrow’s runway challenge.

“You did good, man,” Sam said quietly, giving Holly a slap on the back once the queen had been hauled to her feet by the taller man. “I probably couldn’t have done all of that in heels.”

“Sure you could’ve,” Holly replied, taking a hand towel offered to her by one of the PAs, Naomi. (Christ, she must look a sight if Naomi was being nice.) “We just would’ve had to glue them to your feet, it's the only way to learn.”

Sam laughed again and shook a finger at Holly before starting back to his spot next to Gabby that the Pit Crew usually occupied anytime the host was in the workroom. “You remember you said that, Cas.”

Holly frowned in confusion, but shrugged off Sam’s comment quickly; she had to, Gabby was gently shooing the other queens into a straight line and Holly had to rush over to join them.

“Okay, my lovelies,” Gabby said, smiling beatifically as he addressed the assembled queens. “Now that you’ve all thoroughly stretched, it's time to talk about this week’s runway challenge. And Kimmie dear since you won this week's mini-challenge you get an extra scrumptious advantage.”

Kim gave an excited little bounce from her place in line and even Holly’s heart melted a little bit. America was going to love that brilliant little twit when this shit aired.

“Now, Sergeant Lafitte--oh! I’m sorry, Benny,” Gabby continued, winking slyly at the sergeant who was standing at his side in parade rest. “Has brought some friends with him to help you girls with the runway challenge this week. You want to call them in, Benny-bear?”

“Sure, darling,” Benny replied with a dazzling grin at the host that caused Sam to roll his eyes; Holly was pretty sure the cameras didn’t catch that little drama though. The drill sergeant raised his voice and directed it towards the workroom’s double door. “Gentlemen! Forward march!”

The queens all jumped at Benny’s first barked order and Tasha even started to take a hesitant step forward before the double doors swung open to admit a line of five men marching sharply in sync to stand in a mirroring line across from the queens. The men were all wearing t-shirts that sported the names of the different branches of the military, camouflage pants, and combat boots.

And honestly, in Holly’s opinion, they were a pretty tragic looking bunch.

Two of them were at least her age if not older, one looked like he had just come down out of the mountains for the first time in years, and the remaining two looked like they were barely out of high school. The former three men had severe expressions on their faces and the latter two looked disgustingly eager to please. Holly did know which would be worse to work with.

She also had the slightly disturbing thought that if these men really were military like Gabby was obviously hinting then America was in trouble for sure.

However, she couldn’t dwell on it for too long because Gabby was addressing the room again and if she didn’t want to be in the bottom three again this week then she better pay attention.

“Ladies, our guests this week are all either former or current members of the United States Armed Forces. As you can see from their shirts they represent every branch of military service and they also represent the LGBTQ+ community.” Gabby explained. “That’s right, all of these men are hella gay and this week you will be transforming them into the fabulous, kick-ass drag queens they never knew they were meant to be.”

Holly felt her stomach drop. They were supposed to turn these burly, boot-stepping bros in to drag queens? No. No way. The beardy one probably had more hair on his face than all of the competing queens had on their entire bodies! There was not enough NAIR or enough Ms. Manners lessons in the world to smooth out the rough edges on these soldiers. These men had actively volunteered to go to war, hell, they might have even killed people. You could not make a light-hearted, campy drag queen out of an army grunt. It was just impossible.

God, maybe she should have tried a little harder to win the advantage this week.

“Ms. Kim Chi,” Gabby continued, oblivious to Holly’s inner turmoil. “Since you kicked ass at drag booty camp you get to assign which soulja boy will work with each of your fellow queens.”

Kim gave a little squeal of delight before immediately darting over to the youngest of the soldiers and doing a dramatic jump into his arms; forcing the poor boy to catch her to keep them both from falling over.

“Dibs on the cute one!” Kim cried, earning laughter from the Pit Crew and Gabby while the rest of the queens forced smiles and panicked on the inside.

This week’s runway was essentially in the hands of an excitable 20-year old manic-pixie-ladyboy with an addiction to Red Bulls and candy necklaces. Holly wasn’t totally freaking out because Kim generally liked her so she’d probably give her the next youngest soldier even if that kid was a bit of a bean pole, but Tasha Salad...yea, that bitch should be worried. The other queen had been ragging on Kim about being the youngest contestant since day one and Holly knew for a fact that Kim was very very over it.

“Today, dumpling,” Gabby prompted once the laughter had died down.

“Wellllll,” Kim drawled, getting her feet back under her so that she could meander through the line of soldiers; reaching out to squeeze a bicep or ruffle some hair here and there. “I think the only fair way to do this is to pair you boys up with a girl you might have something in common with, some shared life experience. So uh….get in order of oldest to youngest. Girls, you too.”

Holly raised an eyebrow as the queens and soldiers exchanged doubtful looks before everyone began rearranging themselves per Kim’s instructions and oh...oh, tiny infant Jesus, no.

Across from her stood the hairiest, most disheveled soldier (his grey shirt proclaimed him a Marine) that Holly had ever seen in her life. She was pretty sure there were regulations for things like facial hair and stuff in the military, right? Benny and all of the other soldiers were clean shaven except for a few very neat mustaches. Was this guy undercover or something? Trying to infiltrate a particularly militant bunch of Appalachian mountain men?

If so, then this dude’s cover was going to be seriously blown when this episode aired.

“Uh…” Kim said, eyeing the line up, biting her lip before casting an apologetic look in Holly’s direction. “This’ll work. Cute one, you’re with me.”

The young, blonde guy at the end of the row of soldiers smiled winningly at Kim as she bounded back over to the line of drag queens revealing deep set dimples because of course. Holly could only be thankful that she wasn’t Eva because her Navy guy looked like he had never seen a bottle of moisturizer in his life.

“Fantastic,” Gabby gushed. “Now that that is settled, what we’re looking for this week, ladies, is for you to turn your individual star-spangled man with a plan into an all-American beauty queen. The judges are going to be looking for a strong family resemblance and we would also like each duo to perform a patriotic baton routine to honor this wonderful country. You’ve got a lot to do this week ladies so start your engines. And may the best woman win!”

Holly bared her teeth in a smile as Gabby swanned out of the workroom, taking Sam and Zeke with him as he went.

“And we’re clear!” Dorothy, one of the production assistants, shouted once the workroom door had shut behind the show’s name sake. “Gentlemen, feel free to borrow from the vault for your army guy’s runway routine. Baton routine outfits will be provided. You will have two days to prepare for your runway walk and baton routine. Each pair will get one hour of consultation with the choreographer to get their input on your routine, but you are each responsible for creating a unique baton routine on your own. Any questions?”

The vague af instructions were par for the course for the queens so none of the remaining contestants raised their hands, but the tall, lanky boy that Raphael had been paired with raised his hand innocently.

Dorothy just raised her eyebrow and suppressed a sigh, “Yes, you in the camo?”

There were barely concealed giggles and barks of laughter from the rest of the assorted men as the boy (because he was a boy, really how old was this kid?) blushed beet red before he managed to stammer out an answer for Dorothy.

“Are we going to get a break for lunch?” the boy forced out, earning another round of laughter from the queens and a quickly stifled grin from Dorothy as well.

“Maybe this was a good pairing after all,” Raphael announced pointedly in Kevin’s direction, looping his arm through the boy’s before he started pulling him out of the workroom. “C’mon baby, let momma show you where craft services are.”

“Any other questions?” the production assistant prompted again, earning a bevy of head shakes from the remaining men. “Great, well you can use the rest of today to get to know your partner. Your two days of preparation officially starts tomorrow.”

Meaning they could unofficially start prepping today, wonderful. Castiel sighed in relief at being given even an extra half day to try to whip and wax his partner into shape. And with that…

Castiel turned back to his Marine, trying and failing to not be slightly intimidated by the rough exterior of the other man. Who knew maybe he was a softy under that bushy beard?

[killdozcr-blog]

“ there’s always a bigger fish. ”

THE PHANTOM MENACE // accepting

        ❝ yeah? an`there’s always a bigger pan t`fry the fucker in. ❞

   there’s always a bigger fish — the hierarchy of SHIT leading the SHIT never actually seemed to end; where one organization, one mob, one of ANYTHING seemed to end, another regime tended to rise where the latter crumbled into DUST.

    orbs refrain from looking up at the blonde, instead opting to remain fixated on the disassembled firearm && its various pieces strewn about the workbench before him, there’s always a bigger fish. this one man war. this CRUSADE against everything deemed vilified && evil that was allowed to roam the streets at night; causing wanton destruction && widespread VIOLENCE where ever some new PUNK with a couple of dollars && his father’s AK decided to plan their superficial flag next. the thought alone was enough to cause the CRUSADER to turn to the side && spit his aggression towards the ground.

     ❝ `m getting real sick of this — this BULLSHIT we go through. i do my god damned best to keep these stupid fuckers down an`off the streets permanently, an`here come you guys struttin`around in fuckin`spandex suits an`masks trying to fuck up everything i’ve done — not includin`you. you know what th`most sickening part of it all is? it ain’t th`scum of the earth that makes me sick with all th`drug trafficking, th`extortion an`murders, th`kidnappings. no — its th`fact that every god damn time i get these fuckers scared, one of y`all come around an`try to SAVE`em all. ❞

                                                   there’s always a bigger fish.

      ❝ see …. those sad shits out there that think they run th`streets? its fear that controls`em. you send me into one of their hideouts an`i get a point across. i put`em down permanently an`there’s no more problem. one of you s.h.i.e.l.d goons? or one of you runnin`around in your fuckin`underwear trying to ARREST these people? they don’t give two shits about bein`arrested. our system? th`glorious fuckin`court system we got? see they can get around that. ❞

                                                   there’s ALWAYS a bigger fish.

      a hand ghosts over the parts — but instead opts to grip at the handgun sitting off to the side of the bench ( a personal favorite. always keep charlene by my side. ) opposite hand rose to slide the chamber back with a CLICK that echoed through the silence.

      ❝ but a bullet? you find me someone that can take two to th`head an`get out of that. look — i ain’t ask you t`bring me this info, but that don’t mean i don’t appreciate it. but bobbi. you stay th`hell out of my way with this, y`hear me? i ain’t puttin`these shits in jail. uh - uh. these fuckers go straight to th`morgue. if anyone asks if y`saw me …. well — jus`tell`em frank went on a fishing trip. ❞