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soreddieforit · 22 days

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@jegulus-microfic | april 7: regret | 2,011 words | NSFW

sometimes your best friend's brother is so hot you just have to jerk off about it.

Fucked.

That’s what James was—completely and irrevocably fucked.

He couldn't claim ignorance; he'd seen it coming from a mile away. The change had been gradual, an ever-present whisper he failed to quiet. The subtle shift from looking at Regulus and seeing Sirius’ younger brother to looking at him and seeing Regulus. His continued presence at his and Sirius’ place had casual conversation turning into inside jokes, quips and jabs traded back and forth–James loved it when Regulus was a little mean to him. It turned into movie nights and visits at Regulus' job.

All of it was fuel to a slowly kindling fire.

So, really, he had no one else but himself to blame when he got burned. Scorched, actually.

It was a casual favor–helping Regulus move because Sirius had gotten held up at work. It was supposed to be nothing, just helping out a friend, something he would do for anyone in his life. Something he did without a second thought because that was James’ Thing. But, he really should have thought it through. Because watching Regulus, who was usually so impeccably composed, now disheveled and glistening with sweat, was an exercise in restraint. James’ mind was in a tailspin, fixated on lithe muscles moving beneath skin, flush from exertion high on his cheeks, messy hair pushed back and curls barely controlled by a headband.

James had been so normal about it all, truly, given the circumstances. Silently commending himself on his raw unadulterated strength for not jumping Regulus right then and there– he was playing it so cool. But everything teetered on the edge of collapse when Regulus, busy trying to put his couch back together, asked James to fetch the other screwdriver from the box beside his bed.

To James’ credit, there were a lot of boxes there, so he naturally went with the one closest to the headboard. And later, when Sirius chewed him out for wanting to fuck his younger brother, he would blame it on that fucking screwdriver. Because when he lifted the lid, the contents inside hit him like a physical blow. The room spun. He was going to fucking faint.

Inside the box was... Christ. It was overwhelming. Toys, lots of them, lined up all pretty and careless and innocent. Like they weren't going to kill him right on the spot. His eyes caught on the purple one, how thick it was. His mind oscillated between stupor, awe, and undeniable arousal, only snapped back to reality by Regulus' voice, muffled from down the hall.

“James? Did you find it?”

In a panic, he slammed the lid shut and scrambled for another box. “Uh-huh, yeah,” he called back, nodding to himself, still dazed. “Found it, found it.”

With the screwdriver finally in hand, James re-entered the living room, his cheeks flushed and a strained smile on his lips. He passed it over to Regulus and awkwardly clasped his hands in front of him, attempting to conceal the evident bulge in his pants. He had intended to stay, they had planned for dinner afterwards–Regulus’ treat for his help. But now, his thoughts were a vortex, endlessly spiraling around Regulus and those toys and–.

Voice too high and a little thready, he hastily blurted, “Okay, we got all the boxes, right? Yeah, okay, all set,” thumb jerking towards the door, “I forgot- I actually have to go, yeah.” Nodding to himself. He was aware that he probably looked insane, but staying was not an option. Not when every thought was a hazard. So he just stumbled through a weak excuse, pointedly ignoring the puzzled look on Regulus’ face, and rushed home. His grip flexing hard on the steering wheel and music blasting the entire time, because he was sure if he let his mind wander he would veer off the side of the road and crash his car.

It was only in the safety of his own room that he allowed himself to unravel. He twists the doorknob, pulling on it to ensure that it’s locked. His mind going straight back to that box, to Regulus, and his imagination runs.

Fully clothed, pants a mess–precum everywhere– he shoves them down. Just far enough so he can get a hand around himself, not even bothering to move to the bed. He knows the intimate details of what the inside of Regulus’ bedroom looks like. So there’s a crystal clear image that he can’t shake. Regulus, legs spread wide and fucking himself—his head thrown back, hips twitching up and opening so sweetly around a toy. There was something so erotic about the thought of Regulus coming home, maybe even from James’ place, and taking care of himself. Stuffing himself full until he was crying out and shaking with it.

Was it drawn out–slow? Did he take his time and open himself up with his fingers first? Or was he usually too worked up and eager to wait, just sinking down and reveling in the burn? Did he ever use a vibrator at the same time? It was delicious, the idea of Regulus being pleasure-drunk by his own hand. James knew if it was him, he would be insatiable, would force one more and another one please, baby out of Regulus until he was sobbing. James needed to see it, thought he might die without it.

A whimper rips from his throat at the mere thought of it– picturing himself at the foot of Regulus’ bed, content to just watch, to be so good for him. His movements become more frantic, hand working over himself faster. He pulls up his shirt and bites down on the fabric, head falling back against the door. In his mind, he wonders if Regulus would chide him for being bad, when James would finally break and scramble over to him. If he would let out a noise of protest when he pushes Regulus’ hand away and takes over, gripping the base and fucking him. He imagines how he would react when James crowds into his space, licking into his mouth and swallowing down his moans.

James is close when he thinks about Regulus’ eyes half shut and rolling back, body arching against him. How he would feel under his palm if he dragged it down the plane of his chest, if he raked his fingers through the hair under his belly button. Fuck. The thought of what it would feel like to touch between his legs, feel him wet and warm and dripping on his fingers. He’s almost there, movements getting more urgent. He starts circling his thumb over his sensitive tip with every upstroke. Has to grab at his own throat to ground himself, squeezing for just a little pressure because his body is feeling so good that it's floating up, up, up.

When James finally breaks, its with a weak, breathless, “ah- fuck R- Reg.” He makes a mess of himself. Back arching off the door, coming in ropes across his chest and dripping sloppily over his hand. He stays there for a while, slumped against the door, twitching with aftershocks. It’s only after his breath returns to its regular pattern that he moves, grimacing slightly as he sheds the rest of his clothes in a crumpled heap.

Nevermind the guilt of jerking off to his best friend’s brother, his own friend–his mind was reeling. James had convinced himself that it would help, to get it out of his system and be done with it. Deep down, though, he knew that wasn't possible. He knew that indulging himself would only pull him deeper into his spiral of obsession with Regulus. It was a little fucked up, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret it.

Exhausted, he collapsed onto the bed, a groan escaping him. The images and thoughts of Regulus were still there, but they were shifting. Had he ever used them on anyone else? What would it be like if he used them on James?

Against the mattress, James let out a heady moan. His forehead was slick with sweat, hair clinging to his skin. He found himself rocking hips involuntarily, pushing his spent cock into the bed. God, would Regulus top him? Fuck him with his strap and tell him he takes him so well. Oh, would he make him suck on it too? The overstimulation from the lack of respite was deliciously painful. He bit down on the sheets, grinding against them as he reached out clumsily and fumbled for the lube in the bedside table.

This second time was just as desperate. Lube in hand, James coated his fingers. So messy–glistening on his hand the same way he imagined it would look after pulling it from Regulus’ cunt. He drew his knees up under himself, breath picking up again and chest heaving against the mattress. His glasses askew and head turned to the side, he was looking back as best as he could at where his fingers were circling his hole.

He eased one finger in. He didn't feel nearly full enough but there's a slight burn– a reminder that he hasn’t done this in so long. He wishes Regulus were here to stroke his cheek, his neck. For him to press down on where James’ hand is inside of himself and tell him, “You can take more baby, I know you can. Need it, hm?”

James is gasping with the thought, mouth open and drooling a bit. He can’t bring himself to care though. He briefly pulls his finger out, swiping hastily at his stomach where his cum hasn't dried and mixing it with the lube before he’s pushing back in, another alongside it.

“Christ” he swears to himself. It’s a little clumsy, an awkward angle. His own fingers are a little too thick to move them fluently. He thinks it wouldn’t be like that with Regulus. In his mind, Regulus would work his fingers inside him with the same poise and deadly precision that he does everything else. He’d probably talk him through it too, breath hot against his ear as he teased James for being so needy, for wanting to be filled. It would have James on the edge in minutes, and that thought alone is so hot that James can't even feel shameful about it.

He shifts, pushing up on one arm and arches his back, so he can drive his fingers deeper. He slips in another finger. He’s so– so worked up, body so warm. Sweat beads on his neck, trailing down and pooling where his back curves. Both of his arms ache with the strain, but he’s too far gone to notice. Too caught up in the slide of his fingers, lost to the thought that even three of them were still not as thick as the purple toy in Regulus’ room. He’s pretty sure he’s making noise, he can't really tell though. Everything’s gone a bit fuzzy from the pleasure.

He knows he’s loud when he comes though. He finds the spot that has him going weak, almost buckling the arm that's holding him up. It’s overwhelming, he focuses on a few hard presses of his fingers right there and he's coming. A broken sob wracking his body as he gives into it, writhing against the feeling, ruining himself even more. He draws it out as long as he can, fingers moving relentlessly until his nerves sing with raw sensitivity. He slips them out before collapsing into the mattress, just breathing.

He can't help but laugh at himself-–thinks it's a little pathetic. That one accidental peek into a box has left him lying here, covered in his own sweat and spend. And yet, his mind is still running over the possibilities. A constant loop of Regulus and toys and straps. A low whine escapes him at the idea of going another round, his cock already twitching at the mere thought.

And through the haze of it all, the pleasure and the embarrassment and the Regulus, he can only make sense of one thing:

He is so utterly fucked.

#a part 2 is coming methinks #microbial genetics exam on tuesday... i havent reviewed any lectures but i did write this!#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jegulus fic #jegulus microfic #marauders #starchaser #marauders fanfic

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rymndsmth · 2 years

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kyoto (tangerine)

you catch the attention of a certain passenger.

warnings: 18+

You lightly drummed the end of your pencil onto the blank page, following slightly off-key with the music that blasted through your earphones. Next stop, Kyoto. You hoped there was a life in the new city that made you forget all the mess in Tokyo. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this…

A shake of the head brought you back into the car, bright lights bouncing from the window your head leaned on. The scenery outside blurred by with how quickly that train was going, meshed into a kaleidoscope of muddy colors. It left you with nothing to draw on this stupid page, no inspiration at all.

Though supposedly and hopefully sturdy, you felt that ground beneath your feet rumble to the tune of footsteps. Also, oddly, in time with your music. The thunderous vibrations rose, echoing in your chest, and throat as you peered up to see the source striding down the aisle.

There were people who were good looking, and then there were people like him. Those who had to have grown annoyed a long time ago at the gaping they surely received daily. The kind of people who were so devastatingly gorgeous, others doubted if they were even people at all.

Your fingers pinched your pencil. Inspiration found.

The handsome and equally well-dressed man took a seat a few places up in your direct eye line. You wasted no time running the tip of lead across the paper, as if it were your fingers running along the chiseled edges of his jaw, the high rises of his cheekbones. His beautiful lips and straight nose. And lots, and lots of gorgeous dark hair that was slicked back.

Blue eyes pierced into yours a few times, catching you in a near fugue state. The awkwardness at being discovered staring had disappeared long ago for you, hazards of the job and all that jazz you guessed. A small smirk appeared on his lips the third time it happened as he said something to his companion all the while looking at you.

The picture you’d sketched was rough, but it was good. You were never going to get likeness that perfect on a page, but it was enough for you to be satisfied. Beneath your feet, the ground shook again and when you rose your head, he was sliding into the seat across from yours. You took your headphones off, intrigued.

“Lovely evening isn’t it?” His voice was melodic, more playful than you imagined.

“Yeah, I think so.” You nodded.

“What-is that me?” Those icy eyes widened as they fell to the picture under your hand.

A bit of bashfulness flooded through you. Getting caught staring was one thing, but having the subject see your drawing of them was another. You laughed lightly as you spun the sketchpad for him to see. You couldn’t help but drink in his ring covered hands. Long, thick fingers skimming the lines on the page.

“I’m a bit embarrassed if I’m honest.” He smiled.

“Oh, I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” You blurbed, panic blooming in your chest.

“No, it’s not that!” One of his large hands came down on yours. “It’s just here I was thinkin’ you were staring at me because…”

You tilted your head, swallowing. “Because?”

“Because you thought I was attractive.” He bit his lip, and shook his head. “It’s silly, I know.”

“Not at all.” You responded a bit too quickly to be considered cool.

That seemed to amuse him. It should’ve been apparent to you at that moment, but you still found yourself none the wiser that you had played right into his hand. He leaned back in his seat, exposed chest protruding even more from his shirt. The light sheen of sweat despite the cool air, the golden pendant swinging low.

“Yeah, and why’s that?” His brow quirked.

“You are attractive. Very.” You squared your shoulders, deciding to own your confidence.

“I know. Just wanted to hear you say it, love.” He flashed a brilliant smile. “Name’s Tangerine, by the way.”

Obviously, that was not his god given name. But if that was what he wanted you to call him, you would. You would call him anything he asked you to. And it was at that moment, you fully realized.

“Y/N.” You breathed.

“Y/N, my little artist.” Tangerine rolled your name on his tongue as if he was tasting it. “What am I to do with you?”

A lot of thoughts crossed your mind, all of them jump scares for your parents. The one that screamed that loudest was that you were most definitely insane for even considering the rest. But then again, what was one last bit of chaos before your new life, right? It couldn’t hurt to go out with, well, a bang.

You leaned forward onto your forearms, eyes raking shamelessly from his strong thighs all the way up to his face. His nostrils flared lightly and it stirred something in you. The man looked like he was ready to fly across the table and pounce on you, your ego was doing goddamn cartwheels.

“You can do whatever you want.” The words left your lips without a second thought.

Tangerine inhaled and nodded. He rose from the seat to his full height, towering over you as he stepped into the aisle. His blue eyes held yours for a moment when he paused, a hand placed on your shoulder.

He let it lazily slip off as he continued to walk. Your head craned, following his movements until he disappeared into one of the restrooms. There was literally never going to be another opportunity like this. You knew that, hell, the fucking Pope knew too.

It didn’t wake much if any courage at all to get to your feet and follow the path he’d taken. You opened the door just wide enough for your body to slip in, and locked it shut behind you. Tangerine took a seat on the closed lid, his legs spread as wide as they could in the tight space.

“Come here.” He beckoned you with two fingers.

An invisible thread pulled you, your feet moving without thinking. They carried you to his lap which you straddled in one fluid motion. His skin was hot beneath your hands as you slid them up his chest. His touch travelled over your stomach, exposed by your cropped sweater, and upwards. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, cradling your face.

And then he kissed you, just a peck. It was like the first spark of a stubborn lighter, making you shaky with the excitement to get your fix. Then came the second which was the long sweep of his lips over yours, a pull that left you chasing his mouth when it broke. Finally, there was fire.

You opened your mouth to his tongue, a satisfied moan at the contact leaving you. Your hips bucked into his, grinding the erection in his pants to life. He grabbed them greedily, pressing you closer to his body as his hot mouth moved over yours.

“I bet you’re already so wet for me.” Tangerine rasped.

His words hit you in that molten pit that was forming in your lower stomach. He slipped a hand into the band of your pants and panties. Two digits slid into your folds, your eyes fluttering shut as he rolled your slick between them.

“Fuckin’ hell…” He panted, moving down to suck your neck.

You ran your hands through his hair, rutting yourself over his fingers. It was getting harder and harder to control the noises that left your mouth. Being in here like this with someone life him, it was unbelievable. You knew it was real, but it felt too good to be true. It was literally going to drive you over the edge.

Your grip in his hair tightened as he began to circle your clit. The other hand you had free fell back to his knee, holding on for dear life as you felt heat rise in your body. It tickled your throat, mouth chanting yes yes yes until you were suddenly robbed of all contact.

“Only way you’re gonna cum is on my cock.” He tutted at your annoyance. “Now lose the trousers and let me fuck you.”

You were uncharacteristically obedient as you rose to your feet again to meet his demand. While you did that, he loosened his buckle and freed his cock. It was more considerable than you though it would be, causing you to swallow at the sight. Once you’d discarded your pants, you got back onto his lap.

Tangerine collected some of your wetness and used it to stroke himself before lining up with your entrance. You held onto his strong shoulders as you sank down, mouth parting with the burning stretch of your walls taking him in. He groaned, twitching inside you.

“It’s so fucking deep.” You gasped, eyes rolling back on their own.

“You’re gonna take me so good, aren’t you love?” He kissed you.

You nodded, dropping your forehead to his. Tangerine’s arms looped around your thighs, holding your hips so that he could help you move up and down his length. Your fingers dug into his upper back as you took more and more of him until you rested flush against him.

When he raised you almost to the tip again, you arched your back. On your own, you began to ride him, finding a good rhythm that had you picking up where you left off. You felt that fire as you bounced on his cock, breaths leaving in pants the more it burned.

“I’m gonna-I’m-“ You choked out.

“That’s it, baby.” He thrusted upwards. “Cum for me.”

You growled out a cry, upper body collapsing onto his as you chased and finally hit your peak. Your hips stuttered over his, your mouth pressed into his jacket to muffle the whimpers that came with each wave.

Tangerine suddenly stood up. You instantly wrapped your legs and arms around him, his mouth warm and needy on yours as he pressed you to the wall. His hips snapped forward powerfully, rocking you into the surface and knocking the air from your lungs.

“So tight around me, look at you.” He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth before dropping his eyes.

You followed them and moaned. The sight of your walls gripping him, coating his cock in your juices as he slid in and out of your soaking pussy was insanely erotic. He wrapped his arms around your knees, opening you up even more and penetrating deeper than before.

“Shit! Yes, please…” You writhed.

“Please what?” Tangerine grunted.

“Please keep fucking me like that.” You found yourself smiling, in a state of delirium as he hit your sweet spot over and over.

“Wanna be fucked like this, huh?” He chuckled, fingers tightening around your thighs.

“Yes, don’t stop!” Your breath hitched.

Tangerine picked up his pace, your bodies banging into the wall thump thump thump louder and louder each time. It hit you rather belatedly that you were probably supposed be to keeping it down. How could you though? Not when a man who was basically a demigod was fucking your brains out beyond your wildest fantasies.

Your lips met his neck, sucking the soft salty skin. You ran your tongue along the metal of his chain, the bitterness hitting with a pang as you collected it in your mouth until the pendant lay flat against the muscle.

His hooded blue eyes looked down into your own, fluttering at the sight of you like this all for him. For the first time there was a falter in his thrusts. He fought his way through your tightening walls, pelvis snapping with bruising force into yours as you came again.

Tangerine had three strokes left before he pulled out, spilling his hot cum across your stomach. You ran your fingers through his brown locks as he kissed you like he was still trying to devour you while he eased your feet to the ground.

“Where’s your stop?” He asked as he wet a few paper towels and handed them to you.

“Kyoto.” You accepted them.

A hint of disappointment managed to creep into your bones despite the massive high you were on. As quickly as the moment came, it left. You wished you had more time with him. To at least be able to have him for a few more rounds. A hope that fully blossomed into anticipation when he replied:

“I’ll see you there then.”

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train #tangerine bullet train #fics.n #new hyperfixation yeooww

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in1-nutshell · 3 months

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Hello again! If its okay to request TFA, a continuation of Triple changer Buddy?

Blitzwing react/interact to Triple changer Buddy and their personas.

When Triple changer meets Triple changer, what do you think happens?

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Triple changer meets Blitzwing

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

TFA

They met each other in the park.

Blitzwing had heard from around that there was a huge babysitter bot in the city.

He thought that the bot would be perfect for spare parts. If the bot was as big as the rumors were, then it could easily be scrapped and used for inventions or the med bay.

So, he went flying to look for the bot.

After an hour of flying around the triple changer found nothing.

Taking a break, he went to one of the parks and walked around.

“Why are we here again? The bot is nowhere here!”—Hot head

“But these daisies are!”--Random

“We are taking a break before we resume our search.”--Icy

“Why can’t we blast this place!”—Hot head

“No! Look at the pretty little birds! Look how they fly—”--Random

THUNK!

“Hey watch were you’re going!”—Hot head

“You watch—”--Guardian

Buddy and Blitzwing stare at each other.

“Great…”—Buddy and Blitzwing

All Buddy wanted to do was take the kids to the park for bird watching.

Now they had to deal with this Decepticon.

And on such a perfect day too!

It had taken so much time and patience to get permission slips from the parents to let the kids go out on a field trip to the park. They did manage to sort everything out better once some of the parents became chaperones for the trip.

The two triple changers met face to face.

…

And the two screamed.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”--Buddy

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”--Blitzwing

Buddy and Blitzwing falling backwards.

Blitzwing quickly snaps out of it and stands up with his canons raised.

“Servos where I can see them Autobot!”—Hot head

Buddy is still in shock seeing the Decepticon.

A rock hits Hot head in the chin.

“Leave them alone!”--Johnny

A twig hits his pede.

“Beat it you big meanie!”--Suzzy

Ms. Jones pulling out a rather large taser from her purse.

“You stay away from them you heartless little—”—Ms. Jones

Guardian quickly standing up and putting themselves in front of the group before looking down concerningly at the long taser

“Ms. Jones why do you even have that big of a taser in your purse?!”--Guardian

“That doesn’t matter right now sweety.”—Ms. Jones

“I feel like it should matter. That thing is the size of a cattle prod! How did that even fit?!”--Guardian

“I got it at a local flea market a few years back. Rebecca said it was some sort of hazard or something. Back to what I was saying, get your over-sized toaster oven butt out of here!”—Ms. Jones

The two triple changers are ready to throw down.

But they don’t, instead they take the time to size each other up.

Guardian and Hothead are ready to fight.

But then Hot head changes to Icy, surprising the other bot.

“Well, this was unexpected.”--Icy

Guardian changing to Carrier.

“That makes two of us then. And you are?”--Carrier

“Blitzwing.”--Blitzwing

“And…”--Carrier

“Oh? I… no one really asks that… I am Icy, one of my counter parts you met was Hot head.”--Icy

“Fitting name. Fiery personality.”--Carrier

Icy suddenly switched to Random.

“And I’m Random! Who are you? We haven’t met another Triple changer in decacycles!”--Random

Carrier switching to Jester who grabs Random’s servo and shakes it vigorously.

“Crazy! We’ve never met a Triple changer before! This is our first time! Oops! Where are my manners! The first one was Guardian, the second one was Carrier and last but certainly not least… ME! I’m Jester! Hero to humor and slayer of boredom!”--Jester

“OOOOOOHHHHH! I like you! I like you a lot! I—”--Random

Random turns back to Icy and Jester turns back to Carrier, both holding their helms a bit.

“What just happened?”--Johnny

“I have no idea…”--Suzzy

“Maybe Buddy found a new friend.”--Johnny

“Well, I don’t trust him.”—Ms. Jones

Icy and Carrier come back looking a bit embarrassed and both share a look.

They knew the slight pain it was to have all the personalities in order.

Especially keeping the more… eccentric ones at bay.

“Random was right about us not seeing another Triple changer in decacycles… would you, by any chance, be open to taking a walk with us.”--Icy

“A walk?”—Carrier

“Yes.”--Icy

“And the war? I don’t have anything to do with that now.”--Carrier

“Nothing about the war. Just Triple changer to Triple changer.”--Icy

Carrier hesitated, remembering the kids and their parents.

The kids and parents looked at their bot and then to the Con.

They didn’t like the idea of their friend going on a walk with someone like him.

But they also knew Buddy was curious about the Triple Changer.

They… they needed this.

“It’s okay Buddy. You can go.”—Ms. Jones

“Ms. Jones? Are… are you sure? What about the kids and—”--Buddy

“Let us worry about them, they are our kids after all.”—Ms. Jones

“And what it looks like, you need this.”—Ms. Smith

“I…”--Buddy

“Its okay Buddy! We’ll see each other tomorrow!”--Johnny

Yeah! Then we can play hide and seek!”--Suzzy

“And color!”--Kyle

“You heard them, Buddy. Go on now don’t be shy.”—Ms. Smith

“I… Thank you.”--Buddy

“No problem! But if the toaster over there gives you any trouble—”—Ms. Jones

“I’ll call Prime.”--Buddy

“That’s the Buddy we know. Have fun!”—Ms. Jones

Once the last of the humans left Buddy turned to Blitzwing and the two began their walk.

It was a nice walk.

Both comparing notes about how they manage their personalities and some funny stories here and there.

“Wait are you serious?!”--Jester

“Yes! Then Lugnut came in, with the button out, only to have a rock press it and BOOM!”—Hot head

HAHAHAHA!”--Jester

“Okay now you’re turn!”--Random

“Well, there was this time Timmy stuck a crayon up his nose and didn’t tell me until he was sneezing green snot!”--Jester

“EEWWWHAHAHAHA!”--Random

Never once talking about the others fraction.

This was something personal.

They both needed this.

Finally, it was time for Blitzwing to head back to base.

“This was fun!”--Jester

“Absolutely!”--Random

Jester changing to Carrier and Random to Icy.

“We should do this again. This was nice.”--Carrier

“Agreed, we should schedule later on.”--Icy

“Yes!”--Carrier

“Then it is settled.”--Icy

“Then until meet again Blitzwing!”--Buddy

“Until then Buddy!”--Blitzwing

“Fly safe!”--Jester

“Watch out for snow geese!”—Guardian

Blitzwing flies off.

Buddy sighing.

“You can all come out now.”--Buddy

“…”

“I know you all were watching us… thank you for having my back, even though I didn’t need it.”--Buddy

“You’re welcome!”--Johnny

“Shh!”--Suzzy

“They know we’re here already!”--Timmy

“Well, now they do!”--Tyler

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfa #tfa blitzwing #tfa x platonic reader #tfa x reader #tfa blitzwing x platonic reader

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msmagicmane · 3 months

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“Aftermath” 🎨 2024 (Arcane AU) They had turned on him. It was a mutiny. Betrayal. After having taken an outcast orphan under his wing, the band of outlaws that rode by Silco’s side saw it fit to relieve him of his command. She was clouding his ever narrowing vision. Making him soft. Weak.

They couldnt stand to botch another robbery. Not with the full force of the law on their tail.

So they aimed to kill Silco, and his hazard of a protégé. All the while making it pointedly clear that they had never respected him as much as their previous leader, Vander.

Little Powder, aka Gun Powder, watched in horror as the gang roughed him up, repeatedly questioning him as to her whereabouts. He said nothing. And when it became clear that they were going to do him in… she lit the fuse.

She had always pursued combustible weapons in effort to defend herself.

Now she would use that creative force to defend Silco. If only he had been as spry as he used to be- then he would have cleared the blast. But-it was a blast that was so much larger than Powder had anticipated.

The few remaining gang members had run off, and the coast was clear save for the burning barn debris and smoldering ruins.

And Silco, lying there on the dusty ground, still and motionless.

Against the flickering firelight she couldn’t make out if he was breathing or not, and likewise through her screams and cries could not hear it.

She stayed for what seemed an eternity, but nothing changed. The fire raged on, and soon there were faint sounds of approaching lawmen. Judging by the growing thunder, there were many.

She panicked and ran. Leaving Silco behind.

She ran until she couldn’t anymore. She managed to stow away onto boxcar- on a train that was going, well- who knew. She sat there wondering what her future would bring…

not knowing Silco was still alive.

#silco #arcane #league of legends #jinx #silco fanart #arcane show #caricature #art #western au #au #outlaws #powder #digital art #disney style #graphic novel

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eris-snow · 9 months

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𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.

Tags: bakugou x gn!reader, fluff

Imagine getting saved by bakugou. That'd be hot af.

"So you're Explosive Dynamight's little partner," The villain sneers as he watches you squirm in your binds. "You're tied up nice and tight, so don't bother trying to escape, precious."

Being Bakugou's partner is a health hazard in more ways than one. He controls your every emotion and action, just like how he's at the sweet mercy of your smiles and mood.

He runs your mind, every thought consumed by him in your free time because, why wouldn't it be? He's your perfect boyfriend that was one of the top heroes in Japan. He's your perfect boyfriend that still makes time for you even on late nights because he's just the best like he claims to be.

But being Bakugou's partner is a health hazard because sometimes, you'd end up in situations like, well, this.

"It's time to take Number 2 down a couple of pegs," The villain growled, tracing a hand on your cheek. You're quivering, but you keep your mouth ironed shut.

Bakugou will come.

He always does.

"Who knew he was hiding you this entire time. His greatest weakness...ha, he was a fool for revealing it to the public." You yank your head out of his grasp, biting your lip. Any second now...

"Oi!" A harsh slap lands on your face, making your eyes widen in shock as you whimper at the impact. "Answer me!"

Ignoring the sting in your cheek, you glare daggers at the villain who'd decided to apprehend you. "You think you're tough stuff?" You scoff. "You and your little gang over here are small fries compared to everything he's been through. You don't stand a chance."

Said gang shifted nervously at your confidence. Sure, they caught you, but it wasn't like they were the first ones to do this since Bakugou revealed his relationship with you.

The villain snarled, looming over you "You little-"

An explosion fires of nearby, cutting his sentence off. Normally, it's a sound that scares people off, but it has long become a sound of comfort for you.

You smirk at them, sticking your tongue out at the villain just before his eyes widen.

Dynamight had arrived.

"HANDS OFF MY GIRL, FUCKER!" The blond hollers, whipping his hands in front of his face to shoot concentrated detonations at all their faces. He lands in front of you, facing down the gang leader who was howling in pain at the explosion.

Small fry.

From behind, you were blessed with the beautiful image of the blond's muscles flexing, skin shining with sweat.

Your boyfriend had muscles sculpted like a Greek demigod, just the right amount to look strong but not buff, and you loved it.

"You have some nerve, I'll give you that," He jeers, lowering his stance. "Fortunately, that's the only thing you have."

Before the villain could say anything, Katsuki blasts up close and personal to his face, before promptly detonating so many miniature attacks on the villain with grace akin to a dancer. He finishes his work with one final blow, causing the villain to collapse, groaning as he sinks into unconsciousness.

"Baby," He says softly, fondly as he rushes over to you untying your bonds quickly as soon as the police arrive on the scene to arrest the low-grade villains. The rope that dug into your skin makes you wince when you're finally free, making Bakugou hold you close.

"Hell, are you okay? Let me see you-" He stills, eyes flashing when he noticed your swollen face.

Oh no.

"Katsuki, come back here-"

"No."

"I'm fine, seriously! You've already knocked him unconscious!" You protest, clinging to your boyfriend's arm.

"I didn't hit the fucker hard enough!"

You giggle, leaning up and planting a sweet kiss on his cheek.

"My hero," you coo, the fear seeping away for the crashing waves of love to wash your grateful heart.

"My world," He grins, planting a bold, firm kiss on your lips.

Being Bakugou's partner is a health hazard, but the benefits that come back are repaid tenfold as you're reminded of how no matter where you are, Bakugou would come save you.

Anywhere, anytime.

#mha #mha fanfiction #katsuki bakugō #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x you #my hero academia #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #fluff #bakugou fluff

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rainontherooftops · 1 year

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Loving Francisco Morales

Summary: You have been in a relationship with Frankie for six months, but you have still not shared a bed. As it turns out, the reasons for that are far more traumatic than you could have imagined.

Fandom: Triple Frontier - Pedro Pascal as Francisco "Catfish" Morales Genre: Angst, Trigger-Stories, Drama Pairing: Frankie x f! Reader Triggers : Angst like whoa, Mentions of anxiety and mental health problems, violence, body dismorphia, panic attacks, PTSC, knifes, injuries and blood, mentions of sex Rating : Explicit!

Loving Francisco Morales was easy.

Not that you had a lot of men to compare him to. After seven years of living a life as a single woman – and not minding it one bit – Francisco had been a surprise for you, but a welcome one.

While your girlfriends had been hit on in bars, at events or just constantly on a daily basis, you weren’t as “out there”.

Francisco had not chosen you – you had chosen him.

He had been sitting at a booth at the Irish Pub, absentmindedly playing with his bottle of beer. It was still early evening in summer, and the sun shone through the thick glass window, bathing this handsome man in a perfect light that you just had to capture.

“I’ll be right back,” you had said in your daze to your girlfriends, fumbled in your backpack for your camera and made your way over to his table, where three other men were having a blast. You just had to take this man’s picture.

Not once did you take your eyes off him as you maneuvered your body past the other patrons, until you stood at the men’s table, shyly clearing your throat.

“Uhm, excuse me?”

Three heads were turning to you – but the one you wanted to turn was lost in thought.

“What can we help you with, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart was not a word you liked in particular, but somehow coming from the man – who later introduced himself as Santiago – it didn’t sound condescending, just friendly, endearing even.

Somehow realizing that his friends were no longer talking amongst themselves, the man with the cap looked up – and it was as if Armor had shot an arrow straight through your heart.

“You are beautiful!” you babbled, putting a hand to your mouth in shock.

The handsome man looked puzzled, pointed a finger to himself as if to ask: Me?, while his buddies burst out laughing.

You introduced yourself, telling them you were a professional photographer.

“I… I’m sorry, I’m not normally this confrontational. But you looked so …. Would you be okay with me taking a photo of you? I just know if I hadn’t asked you, I would have regretted it forever.”

He seemed uncomfortable at first and sadly you were losing the light quickly. But his friends were very persuasive. He reluctantly agreed after you promised him that you would not publish this photo anywhere without his consent – and once you had his permission, you went to town.

You gently positioned him just as you had seen him from across the bar, then kneeled on the ground – yourknee landing in a wet spot you hoped was beer – and took a few shots, your heart pounding.

It was a professional hazard. Every time you stumbled upon a perfect shot, you just had to take it.

And this man, in this moment, in this angle, was perfection.

When you'd finished shooting, you sat down beside him to show him the pictures – and you hadn’t left his side for the rest of the evening. After a while your girlfriends came looking or you, bringing your bag to you. Introductions were made, but somehow you and Frankie came to a silent understanding that you liked each other.

He had been fascinated by the photograph, denying to the last possible minute that it was a photo of him. A week later, when you texted him that you had printed a complimentary set of photographs for him, he asked you out for coffee.

That first date had been six months ago.

Six months in which you had gotten to know his beautiful little girl, Marisol. Six months in which you had been hiking together, taking beautiful photos. Six months of cuddling on the couch, kissing and snuggling.

And six months without sex.

You had both decided early on that you wanted to take things slow. Not just for Marisol’s sake, but also because it was his first relationship since his divorce – and your first relationship in seven years.

But there was slow – there was snail pace – and there was the option of a total fuck-up, which was happening right now.

“Come on Will. Pick up, pick up!” you cursed, trying to ignore the sobbing and painful noises coming from the bathroom.

Marisol was at Frankie’s parents’ house for the weekend. You had decided that you might be ready to take the next step, with plenty of time to spend together. But once you had approached the subject and touched his thigh, Frankie had shot up in panic, looking at you like you were a monster.

He had fled to the bathroom, locked the door and he had not reacted to your pleadings to open the door.

Was this a PTSD flashback? Did this have something to do with his history with drugs? You didn’t know, but you were at your wits end. You needed the cavalry.

“Hello- “

You didn’t even let Will finish his greetings.

“Will, Frankie is having some kind of meltdown. He locked himself in his bathroom, he won’t stop crying and I’m afraid he might hurt himself.”

You didn’t recognize your own voice. It was full of fear. It was hoarse and only now did you realize that you were crying as well.

“We’re on our way, sweetheart.”

You heard something shatter – the mirror maybe? – and a cry of pain.

“Please hurry,” you begged and put the phone away.

You had no idea if the guys had been fast or slow. You spent the time until they came begging Frankie to let you in, but he didn’t seem to hear you. He was just sobbing, muttering incoherent words.

Will, Benny and Santi came barreling through the door and – to your shock – Santi even had his gun drawn, which almost gave you a heart attack. As soon as he saw you however, he put it away.

“We’re kicking the door down, sweetheart. Come here.”

They could all hear Frankie’s distress – there was no time for chit-chat or to mind the furniture. You stepped aside, letting Benny curl his arm around you, while Will took a stance and barreled his foot against the door near the handle.

The wood splintered after the first kick and Will and Santi were in the bathroom in a flash. All you could see from this angle was that the mirror was smashed – had Frankie punched it? – and that Francisco Morales was lying on the ground, curled up in a ball, sobbing and shivering.

You registered with a shock that Santi was checking Frankie for any marks of drug use. They had to be sure. But he was clean, as far as they could tell.

Will came out to switch with his brother, who apparently had some medical training. You didn’t want to leave Frankie alone in there, even with his best friends. But seeing as you had probably been the catalyst of what you realized was a severe psychological meltdown, you let yourself be dragged toward the kitchen, clutching onto Wills bicep like it was a lifeline.

A squeeze to your shoulder and the pressing of a glass of water into your hand brought you out from your daze. Will was looking at you with concern, searching your eyes for any injury.

“He only cut his hands a bit when he punched the mirror, sweetheart. He’ll be fine.”

You took a deep breath and a large gulp of water that you desperately needed. Your face felt puffy, and you had probably dehydrated yourself with your own crying. Will did not let go of your shoulder.

“Are you hurt? Did he do something to you?”

Shaking your head vehemently, you said: “He’d never!”

Will sighed. “I know, I know… But when PTSD is triggered, anyone can be considered an enemy.”

You thought it over. Frankie had run from you in a panic. Had he been afraid? Or had he tried to save you from becoming the target of his psychotic episode?

“He didn’t hurt me,” you answered more calmly. “But I think I might have triggered this.”

“How so?” Will asked, finally sitting down next to you on one of the chairs in the kitchen.

You were all grown adults, so talking about sex was not supposed to be embarrassing. But it was nobodies’ business what your sexlife was like. But in this moment, you didn’t care. The more information his friends had, the better they could help him.

“I… uhm… We haven’t had sex yet. Not once since we started going out.”

Will didn’t interrupt, but his brows were furrowing.

“I… I somehow tried to initiate it earlier on. Marisol is away and we planed that I would stay for the weekend, so I thought…. But when I touched his thigh, he…”

Suddenly you had the feeling that a vital part of information was kept from you. You were certain that Will knew exactly why this had happened. He ran his hand trough his short-cut hair and sighed.

“I told him to talk to you. I knew something like this would happen.”

You watched Will stand up, your ears still picking up voices from the bathroom. You could clearly hear Benny taking care of Frankie’s wounds and Santi speaking to his best friend in a calming voice. The friend in charge of you meanwhile opened the liquor cabinet, took out a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses and sat back down.

“Trust me, you’re going to need this. I’m going to need this.”

You liked where this story was going less and less. But by now you trusted these men with your life. So when Will poured the first two shots, you grabbed the glass, ready to down it.

“Normally I would never ever tell you this. Your sex life is yours and Frankie’s and none of us have the right to butt in – but these are special circumstances.”

Will looked shocked, uncomfortable, and concerned at the same time. You were not used to the older Miller brother to express so many emotions at once. He gulped down his shot.

“I’m only telling you this, because two months ago Frankie talked to me – to us – about his concerns and gave us permission to tell you his story, in case something might happen before he had the courage to talk to you.”

You knocked back your own shot glass and set it back down, feeling the liquor burning down your throat. Apparently, this was a crisis much larger than anticipated.

Will poured two more glasses before he asked: “Do you know why Frankie has full custody of Marisol despite his history with drugs?”

You shook your head. Knowing that he had been clean for almost two years now and that he had the full support of his lovely parents might have helped – but every time Marisol’s mother came up in conversation, the topic had been changed. Nobody dared talk about her.

“When we came back from our mission,” Will began, “we were broken. We had just lost Tom and Frankie came home to his wife and newborn child with new scars on his soul, just like all of us. But his wife had had problems of her own long before we went on that mission.”

You listened carefully; your heart pumping hot led through your veins instead of blood.

“We… we didn’t know at the time that he had left Marisol with his parents because he was afraid that her mother was unstable. Frankie managed to get clean early on – but we only found out pretty late that after giving birth, his wife who had been using with him, had relapsed while he was away. Some sort of post-partum… oh I don’t know what it’s called, but she tried to self-medicate and fell back into old habits.”

You realized that you had no idea if Frankie’s ex-wife was alive, dead, or living far away. She was ‘not in the picture anymore,’ was all you knew. And Frankie had asked you very early on not to ask, for his and Marisol’s sake, until he was ready to tell you.

“Frankie tried to deal with it himself. He didn’t want to lean on us, so soon after losing Tom. Long story short, he tried but failed. And one night, she apparently had been using a pretty bad batch of whatever she was taking – because in the middle of the night, she had a total meltdown and took a … she took a knife and tried to cut off his….”

Will made a cutting motion around his groin area and you gasped. You didn’t blame him for not speaking the words. You understood anyway.

“He was really really lucky,” he continued. “The emergency surgery went really well, and all of his bodily functions are working just fine. He has no problems with urinating and apparently there’s no problem with erections or ejaculations. But…well I haven’t seen it, but there’s a lot of scaring and they had to do a lot of cosmetic surgery.”

It was then that the both of you knocked down your second shots.

You had imagined a lot - but not this. No wonder Frankie had never initiated sex. No wonder he wanted to go slow and never even went further than kissing.

“What happened to his ex?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“After rehab she was sent to a psychiatric facility. She was charged with a number of things and will spend the next fifteen years or so on the other side of the country under care and supervision. It was only because of Frankie that she hasn’t been charged with attempted murder.”

You thought of poor Marisol, who one day would probably have lots and lots of questions about her mother.

Before you could say anything else, Benny poked his head into the kitchen.

“We have to take him to the hospital. We can’t calm him down. I contacted his therapist, he’s on his way there.”

Benny looked at you concerned.

“I…I’m sorry but it’s probably best if you don’t come.”

You shook your head in understanding.

Benny left, probably to get an emergency bag together, and Will turned to you.

“Do you need me to stay with you?”

You wanted nothing more than to say yes, but you could see in his eyes that he wanted to drive to the hospital with his friend. So you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, I should probably talk to Frankie’s parents, tell them that Marisol will have to stay with them for a while longer?”

Will nodded, then pulled you into a rib-crushing hug and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“You call us as soon as you need anything, yes?”

You nodded. “Please, just take care of him.”

You forced yourself to sit in the kitchen while you heard the three men escorting Frankie outside to their cars with military precision. It was probably not the first time they dealt with a PTSD attack, and it would probably not be the last.

But the fact that right now you could do absolutely nothing broke your heart.

After a very emotional phone call with Francisco’s mother, it had felt wrong to stay at Frankie’s house alone. So you had grabbed your overnight bag, which you hadn’t even unpacked, and had left.

The guys kept you in the loop and you were grateful. Benny sent you a picture of the repaired bathroom mirror with the caption : “All fixed!” Frankie had been given something to calm himself – which apparently wasn’t easy to find without it counting as a relapse – but they had eventually found a drug with a very low dosage that could be administered, especially created for recovering addicts. It just took a bit longer…

Santi didn’t send pictures, but assured you that Frankie was recuperating at his apartment and that they didn’t leave him alone. He was sleeping off the exhaustion of his meltdown.

Marisol was obviously worried, but Frankie’s parents assured you that they were taking good care of her.

It was almost fourteen days later, when finally, a text from Frankie’s phone arrived.

I’m back home. Can you come over? Please don’t be afraid of me. Please don’t hate me.

All you wanted to do was sprint to your car and race to Frankie’s house – but you took your time. You needed to do this calmly.

You answered:

I’ll be there in an hour. I could never hate you.

And then you started packing a bag.

You left the overnight bag in the car. You were ready to stay the night – without sex in mind – but you didn’t want to put pressure on him.

What you did carry with you to the door was your small backpack and a tote bag.

You saw Frankie watching you through the window as you walked up the driveway, and he opened the door cautiously before you could ring the doorbell.

“Hey…,” he said, hesitantly.

“Hey…” you said, cautiously opening up your arms.

Frankie crashed into you, wrapping his arms around your torso, knocking his cap off his head as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You felt the tears staining your shirt almost immediately.

He was sobbing again, but not in the panicked way.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I didn’t know I would react this way… I didn’t…”

You shushed him, rubbing his back, careful not to touch him anywhere near his belt area. Instead, you started massaging his scalp, mumbling sweet nothings into his ears while he tried to get his sobbing under control.

“Let’s get inside, okay?”

He nodded and let himself be guided inside. You made tea, ordered take-out food, sat Frankie down on the couch, peppering his head with little kisses and constantly ensured him that he had nothing to be sorry for.

While you were eating in the living room, sitting on the couch and not touching, you told him that Will had filled you in, but he already knew. Surprisingly calm, he tried to fill in any gaps, but it turned out that Will had informed you about almost anything.

The new information was that due to the severity of the injury and the cosmetic surgery, Frankie’s penis had to be “redesigned” as he called it, from a respectable 7 inch lenght down to 2 inches.

Now or never, you finally thought when Frankie had finished his tale and was staring at his half-eaten meal, which he hadn’t had the appetite to eat.

You took the plate from him before reaching into your tote bag to get out a new and shiny photo album.

“I want to show you something,” you said, sitting next to him.

You placed it on your lap and opened it.

The first photo was the first that you had taken with him and his friends, taken on the same night you had met. The pages showed a six month journey of photos with the three of you, photos of Marisol, of the trips together, of the good times and on the last page you had put the photo of Frankie you had taken on that very first evening.

“I told you that day that you are beautiful, Frankie. Do you know why I did that?”

You saw the tears in the corners of his eyes well up again as he shook his head.

“You are a very handsome man, Francisco Morales. But that’s not the reason why this photo is so breathtaking. This photo is wonderful because it managed to capture the beautiful soul that lives right here.”

He carefully poked at the spot where his heart was, before putting the album away.

“Frankie, I love you because you are a kind man. A passionate man, a good father, a good listener and because despite all the awful things you have endured, you still think that this world is a beautiful place.”

You took his hand then and placed a kiss to his knuckles, feeling him shiver.

“I am not going to lie. I thought that sex would be a part of this relationship. But Frankie, I will never hate you if we don’t have sex. I love who you are. I had fantasies, yes. And yes, I imagined all kinds of scenarios for us in the bedroom – but if we never get there… I don’t care.”

Frankie was crying again and shaking his head. He didn’t seem to quite believe yet what you were saying.

“We can go as slow as you want to go. Or we can not go at all. I did not start to go out with you because I was looking for someone to fuck me, Frankie. I entered this relationship because I like you. I am not asking for sex. I’m asking for you. And I’m not asking for all at once.”

Frankie pulled you into a hug again then and you shushed him again.

“I’m fine with crumbs, Frankie. I will take everything you are willing to give me, for as long as you are willing to give it.”

Loving Francisco Morales was easy for you. It turned out that he had some problems with loving himself, but over the years he managed that, with the help of his family and friends.

But for you, the first sentence you had ever uttered in his presence was still true. In your eyes, this man was beautiful – and always would be.

AN: I am a terrible person....

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal Fanfiction #Francisco Morales #Frankie Morales #Triple Frontier #Frankie x reader #francisco x reader #trauma #ptsd #ptsd recovery #Angst Fic #Will Miller #Benny Miller #Santiago Garcia

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witchofthesouls · 1 year

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Because I got the scene stuck in my head, Bumblebee and Raf are transporting the newspark found in the Esquivel home.

"Bumblebee," Raf said, voice small and shaky over the cell. "There's a baby bot in my house."

________

Raf held onto the squirming bundle of baby robot since it rocked and flailed all over the place. It didn’t like being placed into the Urbana's backseat. It tried to roll over as seatbelts coiled over its body, but it wailed and Raf could vaguely hear glass shattering in the distance. He climbed inside and tucked himself against it, allowing it to paw into his clothes and chew on his sweater vest. Eventually, Raf managed to sit up and have the baby sprawl over him.

Raf expected the heaviness, legs going numb under the weight of the head and torso, but not the softness. Unlike Bumblebee's solid heft, this one was… surprisingly squishy. Its metal body was firm enough to grip and retain a bipedal, infant-like shape but his fingers left slight indents on the metallic… skin.

Really, he didn't know a better word. It felt bizarrely similar to skin and completely unlike the plating from the Autobots. He watched it with queasy fascination ripple and reset its pristine look.

It also ran far hotter. Even with the AC at full blast, Raf felt sweaty from the outpour of heat through the blanket. His hands tingled from the buzzing skin, and with the physical contact, Raf could swear the baby was vibrating under the whimpers and squeaky chirps.

He was also aware that Bumblebee was destroying the local speed limits with every mile. The long stretch of road to the base became an endless blur of desert and sunlight, especially with Ratchet's increasingly aggravated rebukes on why the scout was causing road hazards.

"It's okay, little guy." He whispered, hoping that someone would tell him whether or not it was a guy or a girl or whatever Cybertronians used when they reached the base. It clicked, sightless optics loudly shuttering and Raf realized, this up close and personal, that it was covered in a thick film before the face tried to bury into his chest, mouthing at several buttons through the chest. "We're gonna get you help. Ratchet's the best."

Could robots be blind, he thought, what could even cause blindness without actual damage?

He swung an arm to curl around its back, stroking and rubbing, and there was a small hiccup, air hissing, and it began to purr.

Luckily, nothing else barricaded their way to the hideout. The few minutes to enter and clear the driveway was the longest in his life.

Ratchet, beyond irritated, had dropped English and turned to his native tongue. Cybertronian, to Raf's ears, was a storm of electronic noise: fast warbles, sharp clicks, buzzing, and trills along with shrill, high-frequency notes that made him wince.

Hold on, Raf chirped Bumblebee. And even with the warning, nothing could prepare him for the sudden jerk up and forward into a furious tempest of mechanical parts within a discordant blast of strange frequencies.

He groaned in Bumblebee's arms, not trusting his lunch to stay inside his stomach if he opened his mouth at the shocked expression of the Autobot medic -words dead with a slack jaw and almost owl-like optics staring unblinkingly. He shakingly corrected his skewed glasses and tried to get comfortable as the baby relatched itself again on his clothes, creating new wet stains.

Once his nausea subsided, he smiled at Ratchet. "We're back and we found something!"

#transfromers #transformers prime #tfp #raf esquivel #bumblebee #ratchet #bitlets #sparklings #jack darby #humans into cybertronians #humanformers #fic ideas #maccadam #cybertronian culture #cybertronian language #cybertronian biology #raf feels absolutely over his head #miko will shriek at the sight #“BABY ROBOTS!!!!!”

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xxxnightcorequeenxxx · 8 months

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(Phantom with his shoaling, schooling in the night.) At first Danny had been weary of the fish-like blobs that had followed him fro the ghost zone. But after a talk with his friend in the GZ he learned that they integral for the ghost zone ecto system as they feed on and neutralize bad ecto. As in all the negatively charged ecto and hazardous ecto. Danny who unfortunately, have to deal with spirits who exude negative ecto, not to mention living in a house where ecto experiments tend to be hazardous, not to mention the negative ecto he produces due to the negative things he experienced. got the attention of the Danios. Unlike Vlad he didn't want to get rid of them as he end up seeing them as more of pets,he saw them as harmless and beneficial as they made his chore of cleaning the lab ten times easier. In contrast to Vlad, who saw them more as flees and did everything in his power to keep them away as he learned pretty quick that you can only keep them out as trying to destroy them with blasts and so on, only made them feed and multiply, mitosis style after eating all the ecto and going big only to spit in to bunch on normal sized ones. The stable portal in amity had at this point, leek in enough ambient ecto that the Danios could stay with Danny at the other side. and over time as Danny did his duties, some his Danios would multiply and gravitate towards people in amity has had been negatively ecto exposed. Lucky or unlucky one of the first one to get a pair of Danio's from him was Paulina. He had explained to her what his ghost friend had told him about them. So of course she told the whole school about her new pets Phantom gave her and what they did. And from there they end up multiplying and migrating to different students in the school. 2-3 was the norm for most, though Phantom was seen as so cool for being able to keep all the colors. But for the most part people tried keeping their favorites. Sometimes that means as many colors as they could or a matching set. Most of them agreed that Fenton was lucky to get as many as Phantom had but considering what was in the Fenton home it was kinda a no-brainer, that he would be able to "support" more of them. Danny also being the space nerd he is also definitely did not squeal when he found some of the coloed had space-themed names. And decided to keep that for their names. The (Yellow) Glowlight Danio, he named Solaris. White - Yoma Danio, he named Selene. Green- Electric Green Danio, he named Nishimura. Red - Starfire Red Danio, he Named Starfire. Orange - Sunburst Orange Danio, he kept the name Sunburst as he liked it. Blue - Cosmic Blue Danio, Cosmic was kept for the same reason. Purple - Galactic Purple Danio, he also liked Galactic. Pink - Rosy Danio was named Nebulae.

#danny phantom #glow fish #au #danio #my art

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halcyon-autumn · 5 days

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Fantasy High Characters and the song I think they'd listen to the most off the new Taylor Swift album

Kristen: okay early Trackerbees Kristen would listen to But Daddy I Love Him SO much and probably post lyrics on instagram. Judgemental small town with religious overtones opposed to a relationship? Just like her fr. Post-breakup Kristen blasts So Long London SO LOUD that the rest of Mordred Manor starts to have weird pavlovian responses to any song with the same chords.

Sandra Lynn: Sandra Lynn would not make it past Fortnight on the album I fear she would hear one song about an affair and turn off her phone. Sorry Sandra Lynn I love you queen but she would not have a good emotional time with this ablum

Jawbone: Jawbone WOULD love Fortnight but he doesn't pay attention to anything but the chorus and sort of assumes it's about the game. Occupational hazard of working with youths.

Riz: I truly beleive Riz was a Dateline kid and he'd like a cool song about going to Florida because you murdered someone. It's got burying bodies in swamps and stuff! Florence + The Machine is there! Great song for murder-obsessed teens.

Fig: I Can Do It With a Broken Heart because, she claims, "it's got a great beat!" (she misses Ayda)

Sklonda: Just pick whatever song you think people would listen to during sex and put it here. We know next to nothing about Sklonda/Gorthalax but I assume the sex is good so fill in the blank.

Kipperlilly: Kipperlilly was actually listening to Who's Afraid of Little Old Me on airpods when she stabbed Buddy Dawn and Brennan just didn't mention it. She's like 'oh an angry song for a short person that people don't want at parties? that's me.' Yes good question she WOULD sing the asylum lyric without any irony

Rueben: Rueben HATES Taylor Swift he DETESTS her no one can bring her up around him or he will go on a RANT but catch him crying to loml and thinking about Wanda Childa

Tracker: Nara walks on in her listening to How Did It End? and is like "oh why are you crying???" and Tracker has to lie REAL FAST and say she's thinking about Gallicea (sorry Nara)

Gorgug: All of the Bad Kids band together to keep him from hearing a single song off this album so that he doesn't think about Zelda and start crying.

Aelwyn: imgonnagetyouback because she loves to sing about violence

Adaine: Adaine listens to the first eight seconds of The Prophecy over and over against her will because Aelwyn keeps sending it to her under various guises being like "did this happen? did you see this? is this what the old elven people want?" it's like Elven Oracle rickrolling. To be clear - Adaine hates this song.

Fabian: I think Fabian would hear ONE sad song, think about the immense loneliness he feels every day, and throw his special edition vinyl out the window like a frisbee.

Gilear: Gilear accidentally downloaded an Enya album

Arthur Aguefort: this one is hard to explain but I think Aguefort would choose Clara Bow as a karaoke song despite it being one of the worst potential karaoke songs on the album. This is deliberate on his part. Also I think he'd be a real Stevie Nicks girlie.

Feel free to comment/argue/tell me your thoughts!

#important it's not the song they like the most it's the one they listen to the most #sandra lynn faeth #jawbone o'shaughnessey #Kipperlilly Copperkettle #fabian seacaster #kristen apple #tracker o'shaughnessey #aelwyn abernant #fantasy high #fhjy #fantasy high junior year #taylor swift #for anyone who has it blocked

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randomwriteronline · 3 months

Text

If there was something Onewa would not neglect to mention, that was that the rest of the Toa Metru were wimps.

Another one of his qualities (if one could call it that) was his ability to explain, at length, each extremely precise and specific reason as to why the rest of the Toa Metru were wimps - which after a small amount of his rambling lectures could then essentially be boiled down to the singular problem of none of them being Po-Matoran and thus not having lived in Po-Metru.

Because that meant that they'd never spent hours working at an actual genuine real job - by which he meant carving, as everything else was too cushy and didn't make your hands hurt like hell once you finally finished nor force you to spend entired days outside with your scalpel and hammer several bio off the ground under the blistering heat of the twin suns in certain occasions; it also meant that they'd never forcibly shaped a cave into their own home by themselves, without any outside help, because that's how the Po-Matoran do it, and that just in case they weren't too keen on breaking their backs that much and joined a welder's village instead they'd never had to fight off wandering Rahi that decided to storm in out of nowhere to pick off a few neighbors just for the fun of it.

And that's how we liked it!

At least, he concluded each of his rants like that.

The first general silent consensus on the matter was that there was no way the Po-Matoran could actually honestly like living in what was essentially a smaller replica of Karzhani.

The second general silent agreement was that everybody would have very much liked for Onewa to shut up before they felt compelled to resort to the only other apparently available solution to the problem by tossing him off the Lhikan II and into the unknown waters.

Due to the whole "unity" thing, they were trying very, very hard not to do that.

Nuju most of all.

Not due to any affection towards him (Great Spirit forbid), but mainly because it would have been extremely easy for him to enact the procedure so quickly that the Toa of Stone wouldn't even have had the time to stop his rambling, and also the longwinded blatherings were very quickly depleting whatever reserves of his already barely existent patience for being around people he still had, meaning he was left scraping at the bottom of the barrel for just about enough of it in order to try to survive this blasted journey of theirs without infringing the Toa code.

They knew arguing would have solved nothing: Onewa would have just argued back even harder and louder, and that would have just made things worse.

But Whenua, in his infinite wisdom, figured out a plan at last.

So when during a rare moment of collective respite their brother of Stone began once more his unprompted tirade about the rest of them being good-for-nothing seat warmers who wouldn't have survived a day at his jobsite, whether due to exhaustion, poor safety conditions, or a wide variety of environmental hazards, the remaining four Toa quickly tuned out of his ranting in order to watch curiously as the former archivist approached the carver from behind so quietly that he might as well have been wearing a Huna instead of a Ruru.

Just as the other interrupted his endless complaint to take in a breath, Whenua struck: his arms rested oh so gently on his brother's waist to pull him a little closer in a sort of hug, surprising him enough to make him stutter a moment more.

"Then shoudn't you be treated tenderly?" he spoke softly, mask close to the other's, with the gentlest tone he could muster.

If Onewa's head could have exploded, it probably would have.

It was frankly mesmerizing to see him shortcircuit in real time. He was, suddenly, completely paralyzed in the slightly reclined pose within Whenua's embrace and totally incapable of speech beyond a few bewildered monosyllables such as 'what', 'wuh', 'who' and sometimes even just a plain old 'w'; his eyes were wider than the entire protodermis sea, frantically shifting from the Great Ruru to the complete void as though his desire to ask for an explanation for the Toa of Earth's unexpected behaviour was battling for dominance with cosmic forces far beyond his comprehension.

Matau understood the plan in the matter of an instant. His hand flew to Onewa's knee - the part that was closest to him from where he was sitting - and cupped it gently, stroking it with his thumb. He could have sworn the other had burst a brain spark the second the contact had hit.

"You're right, Toabrother," he cooed with a grin that hopefully came off comforting enough to hide his amusement: "He's had a rough life! It's our duty to easecuddle him up a little!"

Onewa's attempt at a reply came out as a warbled mess of phonemes.

It was distinctly not helped by Nuju of all beings catching his hand to nuzzle it against his mask, muttering: "Poor thing," in a rumbling tone.

Before he could work through the fog these puzzling interactions were muddling his neurons with and ask who exactly the three cuddling him were and what they'd done with his brothers, his thoughts were once again stunned into static by the pressure of Nokama's palm on the top of his mask and her voice worming into his audio receptor with unimaginable sweetness: "You've been through quite a lot and we haven't shown you nearly enough compassion for it, haven't we? Come, sit down, sit down..."

Eight hands moved him around without him being able to do anything about it, and when he blinked he was indeed sitting down, fellow Toa all around and over him: Whenua was pressing him to his sternum while still loosely hugging his waist, Matau had crawled closer to take over one of his arms and placed a hand on the side of his chest, Nuju had shifted his gentle grip to raid along one of his legs and Nokama had instead taken his place nuzzling one of his palms.

To say this felt immensely unnatural would have been an understatement of planetary proportions.

Actually scratch planetary, these were downright universal proportions.

What in Mata Nui's name was happening?

Why were they so nice? Why were they agreeing they had it easier than him? And why in Karzhani were they cuddling and comforting him about his (to be honest fairly turbulent) Matoran life?

At least the firespitter hadn't joined in, he managed to think in short spurts while the gentle words and motions flustered him to no end, making his heartlight bloom brighter from the weird feeling - he'd been nothing but rude and condescending to him, certainly he wouldn't dream of pitying him or coddling him or lifting a single finger on him kindly, and why did that thought actually kind of hurt all of a sudden when just earlier today it would have had no effect on him whatsoever--

A caress on his mask fried any last working neurons he still had going for him, which was why it took him a few moments to realize there was also a hand tenderly wrapped around his calf.

"You don't have to go through something like that again," Vakama's voice reassured him before he managed to focus once again on his vibrant yellow eyes. His thumb stroked his cheek slowly, making Onewa almost shake in his hold before he continued: "We'll take care of you. That's what a team does, isn't it?"

The Toa of Stone barely managed a peep back.

A gentle laugh at his speechlessness made him almost very visibly self-combust.

The rest of the team cuddled a little closer to him, not once stopping their affectionate touches, humming or murmuring little things he couldn't hope to process within the swelling swirl of feelings agitating through his entire body.

It was just...

It was just too much!

Who were these people? Why were they caring about him so much? He could have had this his entire life instead of rolled eyes and angry looks and envy and hatred and loneliness? And where had that last thought come from?

Someone nuzzled his mask. Then someone else, and someone else again. And again. And again.

Soon enough Onewa was completely silent, still tense and yet also somewhat slack in his team's hold as the gentle thrumming of five bodies wrapped around his own completely erased his thoughts in a storm of fluster and embarrassment that made his heartlight flutter in a fast paced but overall stable manner.

Ah...

Finally.

Peace at last.

The unspoken plan could now be archived a resounding success.

If the five of them detached from him right now, they each reasoned separately, he would have probably sat there for a few hours trying to digest the sudden tornado of care slapped right on him. Who knows? He might have even stopped screaming his life story to the sky and stuck to mumbling it instead. There was no chance he'd shut up fully about it, of course - but at least he would have been much quieter.

That sounded perfectly reasonable.

For about a good five minutes, none of them made any attempt at moving from their positions.

They could leave him there.

Seriously, they could.

Nothing was stopping them from doing so.

Literally nothing.

Matau leaned a little closer to rest his head on his brother's chest. Vakama raised his leg to rest it on his lap, absentmindedly running his hand over it. Nokama whispered another reassurance.

Oh, screw it.

They could cuddle a little more.

Just a little bit...

#bionicle #toa metru #onewa #whenua #nuju #nokama #matau #vakama #random writing #onewa shut the fuck up challenge: get cuddled idiot edition #i think hed shut down if shown any amount of sweetness directed at him bc oh boy. he would Not fucking get that in metru nui at all #anyways enjoy a metru cuddle pile to shut their local worst asshole of the bunch

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lesbianambulon · 3 months

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Hey girlie pop I'm back with another super cool Magnus ask. How do you think this man would react to snow or the winter?

Note: bro I am from like the carribean I have limited experience with snow but I'll try my best.

• Winter. He’s somewhere in the middle. Doesn’t hate it, doesn’t particularly love it.

• He admits snow can be quite pleasing to look at, but dislikes the hazards it imposes.

• He doesn’t mind the cold, such a big frame like his, he tends to conserve heat well, but doesn’t take any chances with being in subzero temperatures for too long. He knows what happened to Optimus and Arcee.

• Appreciates the Aurora Borealis. The first time he saw it, he was mesmerized. It reminded him of some of the colorful nebulas he’d seen in deep space during his interstellar travels.

• Hates deep snow or snow drifts. He was on a mission once with the other bots when he walked right into one and fell helm-first into it, misgauging the depth. It was embarrassing and Wheeljack wouldn’t stop laughing. He was irritated the rest of the mission.

• Has personal beef with ice. Like actually hates it. Since he's huge, he slips easily and breaks through the ice layers on frozen lakes. He skids on iced out roads. If he could, he'd have ice arrested and banned. Black ice? Illegal. Diabolical. Evil.

• Gets snow chains for his tires. Bro isn't messing around anymore.

• He has a tendency to only repair and touch up his frame when absolutely necessary. He’s not the greatest at self-maintenance, as he rather have those resources given to another bot more in need than him. He’s particularly bad at oiling up his joints often. The bitter cold makes his joints stiffen and hurt with the friction. Ratchet has to scold him to take better care of himself (hypocrite lmao).

• Understands why humans consider winter a time of reflection, as the barrenness of it all makes one look inwards. This notion makes him sort of uncomfortable. He tends to get lost in thought while among a snowy landscape. He rather not dwell on his thoughts.

• Dislikes greatly how things can easily fall into chaos from the cold. Hypothermia, blackouts, roof damage, vehicle accidents, fires, exploding pipes. Thinks humans could be better at preparation.

• Started keeping space heaters in the base. Modified his ship to now have antifreeze. Hates flying in snowstorms. Visiblity is awful, the wind rattles his ship, ice coats the windows. By Primus, he rather fucking die.

• Gets a bit annoyed when the roads are covered with snow and he has to wait for human crews to remove it. If he's alone, he just transforms and walks around it, but if there's humans nearby, he's stuck behind a snowplow. May consider blasting the snow to melt it.

• Definitely is writing new chapter in the Autobot Code about weather hazards on Earth at this point. What's going on on this planet.

• Wonders HOW humans, that need heat, have survived in the most frigid of places on Earth. Is kind of impressed at their ability to adapt to harsh cold environments.

• Bro glistens when the snow hits him and melts on his frame. He looks so pretty and doesn’t even realize it smh.

Short fic underneath the cut because I was ✨ inspired ✨

He was out on a routine patrol early one morning. The streets of Jasper were mostly deserted, and it was more apparent than usual that the few remaining folks out and about wanted to get inside as quickly as possible. He didn’t understand why. The sky above was ashen gray. The clouds churned alongside the frigid air that blasted the landscape that came with the approaching cold front. He forged ahead, noting it as peculiar but not threatening.

As he came to a stop at a red light near a residential area, he noticed two humans walking briskly. One was a woman and the other was a child. The woman held the girls’ hand firmly as they walked with haste towards an unknown destination. The girl shivered slightly, purple scarf raised to cover her mouth and nose. The mother’s face bore an expression of subtle concern, eyebrows furrowed. They crossed the street in front of him. The mother spoke to the girl as they traversed the crosswalk. “Come on, the storm will start any second now.” she said and muttered something else in a language he did not recognize. Something about their demeanor struck the commander as unusual, and he didn’t notice his light had turned green for a few seconds. He proceeded onwards, senses now heightened, unaware of what was happening but sensing a shift in the environment around him. He’s been through enough in his experience to recognize when something is even slightly off.

He decided to pull over into a parking lot of a commercial building complex, which was empty minus a few cargo trucks here and there. He blended right in. Nearby was a short walking path lined with various trees. The already sparsely populated town seemed emptier than usual. To him, it seemed that whatever was brewing on the horizon was driving people to seek shelter indoors. A sudden icy gust of wind made his frame rattle for a second. The temperature was dropping faster than he anticipated. The sky continued to darken, blocking out the sun’s rays and covering the town in a washed-out darkness. It was quiet, minus the occasional sounds of the wind rustling the trees. He had grown accustomed to being in dynamic environments where a myriad of sounds emanated constantly, so this rare silence was almost…unnerving.

He began to feel something hit his armor plating. It felt…wet, and cold. He noticed white particles falling around him slowly. He had experienced liquid rain on this planet, but this was new. These particles fell slower than rain did, and they almost drifted downwards instead of the violent pelting that accompanied rain. These particles also seemed to pile up and cover whatever surface they landed on. He adjusted his side mirrors to get a better look at the substance. It was beginning to cover his vehicle mode’s exterior. He concluded it had to be water-based, or something similar. He remained there for a few more minutes, observing, before pulling out of the parking lot. He set course back to the Autobot base. For once, he activated his radio, searching the airwaves for possible information. After flicking through a few channels, he came upon one that piqued his interest. A man’s voice spoke over the speakers.

“...The National Weather Service has declared a winter storm warning in effect for the following counties: Clark, Lincoln, Nye, White Pine from 8 AM to 12 PM Pacific Standard Time. 9 to 10 inches of snow are predicted…folks if you’re listening…avoid driving on roads if possible. If you have to travel, drive slow and be wary of iced roads. Temperatures will drop below zero. Remain indoors and prepare for possible power outages. Stay tuned to WZ2519 for further updates. Stay safe.”

The commander tuned back out once the message ended and it returned to the show that was previously airing. A sense of unease briefly sparked in him for a second, then extinguished. Since this was a situation he had no knowledge about, he couldn’t help but run through the scenarios in his mind of all the things that could go wrong.

He pulled into an empty field near some large rocks, and transformed to his robot mode. He gazed upon the landscape before him. The fervid scarlet and orange of the desert rock contrasted with the stark white of the fresh snow, now beginning to accumulate on the ground. Cacti and sagebrush were sprinkled with the powder. He couldn’t help but somewhat admire the barrage of colors in his view, something about it had an almost ethereal quality. He discovered something unique with each passing day he spent upon this unfamiliar world. He appreciated the novel stimuli of something new that wasn’t trying to actively kill him. He held out a servo, feeling the snow fall graciously into his palm. He noticed the way it would dissipate upon making contact with his frame. He stood there wordlessly for a few minutes, taking in the sounds of the howling wind and the snow hitting the ground.

The snow was coming down harder around him now, visibility now diminishing. He transformed back into his vehicle mode and drove in the direction of the base. He recalled the human’s words over the radio, and decelerated his speed to avoid causing a collision. For a second, he felt himself skid side to side on the ice as he hit the brakes. He corrected himself, noting this new hazard.

He didn’t have time to ponder any longer about the strange weather phenomenon he had experienced, as Optimus had contacted him via his comm to inquire about his availability for a new mission. The snow would have to wait.

#ultra magnus #ask #tfp #fic #headcanons #uhhhhhh #writing #transformers #transformers prime #tfp ultra magnus #it's the way i did research to write this #long post

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enassbraid · 1 year

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Sibling headcanons with rui?

->𝐒𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Platonic! Older brother Rui Kamishiro x reader

Genre - fluff | Cw - middle school rui mentions, akito probably wants to explode you with his mind, cursing

Being Rui’s younger sibling includes….

Lots of annoyance. He can’t give you a full day of peace without bugging you. Even on your most peaceful day, expect some kind of trick around the corner.

Despite all that, you’re the only person in the world who’s free from testing out his experiments? Usually he’s only okay with others testing them when he knows there’s no safety hazard. But with you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he was responsible for hurting his family in any way.

So don’t worry about being a test subject like Tsukasa!

However, that doesn’t exactly free you from all of his shenanigans.

Since you’re a first year in Kamiyama, you aren’t always around when some kind of explosion happens. But when you are and your brother successfully escapes, all the blame goes to you.

“(Name) Kamishiro, get a hold of your brother. We can’t do this every day, we might end up suspending both of you.” A teacher once said. You were baffled at the fact you were getting punished for his controversies.

“Rui fucking Kamishiro.” You muttered under your breath menacingly in response.

Yeah, when he got home that day he was basically a deadman. Since then he’s used Tsukasa as bait more often for his prank’s aftermaths.

Speaking of Tsukasa, his troupe loves you. You weren’t as close with Nene like Rui was, but she definitely preferred your presence over his on most days. Simply because you’re more low key in your eccentricity.

Emu loves you like everyone else, always so bubbly around you. At first, she referred to you as “Smaller Kamishiro”, taking a jab at Rui’s annoyingly tall height.

Tsukasa is kinda scared of you. Well- maybe scares isn’t the best word. He’s more… anxious around you. He knows you and your brother have similarities, and because of that he worries you’ll try to put him on a rocket ship or something.

“Are you sure Rui didn’t put you up to something? Rui! What did you you say???” He exclaims.

Your brother’s poor reputation continued with you. In junior high, you didn’t suffer nearly as much as he did, but definitely had some problems.

Some kids started clear of you since you were related to Rui, worried you were no different. But thankfully there were still some kids who had enough sense to understand… you weren’t your brother. You were your own person.

Rui was glad you found people like that, and silently cheered you on when he saw you with friends. While a part of him may have felt envious of you, he still wanted nothing but happiness for you.

Speaking of junior high, you guys weren’t as close back then. He wouldn’t flat out ignore you or anything, but he was definitely more closed off than ever. You worried often. It was hard seeing him so lonely, especially when he refused to leave his room when he was home.

The most you could do during that time was leave food at his door, sometimes a friendly note reminding him you’re there if he ever needs to talk. While to this day he never told you how much this meant to him, there was a mutual understanding it did.

If middle school was the lowest point of your bond, than high school was its peak. Despite the times you got in trouble for his shenanigans, you two still had a blast together most the time.

Akito fucking despised you as a duo. He didn’t mind you individually, but it was unbearable how you and Rui behaved together. Constantly pushing each other’s ideas until it got too crazy.

But what was too crazy for you and Rui was beyond crazy for Akito, he thought it was mental.

Speaking of… Rui’s oddly not as protective when it comes to you getting involved in relationships.

He thinks you should be able to date who you want when you want, as long as it wasn’t a criminal, he didn’t care. But if the situation called for it, he would get defensive of you until the other backed off.

He’s a great big brother, a pain in the neck sometimes, but overall a great brother.

#project sekai #pjsk #prsk #pjsekai #project sekai x reader #pjsekai x reader #pjsk x reader #prsk x reader #rui kamishiro #rui #rui kamishiro x reader #rui x reader #dor writes

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klausinamarink · 9 months

Text

A Surprise! :)

forgive me my dudes

At twenty-two years old, Eddie has been always suspicious of any packages that arrived on his doorstep. Even if they were addressed directly to Wayne, he would never pick it up with a ten foot pole.

Being the freak of Hawkins had its downsides and prank deliveries was one of them. Sure, some of the packages were hideously funny like a jar of fake blood or rubber spiders. Like that was going to send Edward Munson running back to the landfill he crawled out of.

But the contents became so much more threateningly creative in the last year, even after Eddie was cleared of all charges and he and Wayne moved to a new house further out of town.

So the sight of a small taped box on the kitchen counter made Eddie’s heart stopped.

But Wayne told him that it was legit and the sender meant no harm. He said this with that knowing wink whenever Steve became part of their conversation.

Oh. Eddie checked the handwriting and breathed out a sigh of relief. Thank fuck, it’s just Steve.

He was too quick to rip it open, but still kept careful and cautious enough. He blinked at the reveal of a cassette tape. It had a strip of plain tape on the side where two words and a smiley face were written in fat black marker: A Surprise! :)

Eddie grinned, unable to contain his giddiness as he hurriedly hobbled back to his room. He nearly broke the poor cassette as he inserted it into his radio player. It’s not like Steve giving him gifts out of the blue wasn’t unusual. But for him to give Eddie a mixtape? That made his poor heart combust and regenerate again, beating more faster with love.

But why did he have to drop it off instead of giving it to me? He thought as he pressed play.

Then the song of his nightmares blasted at high volume.

He immediately hit pause. Then pressed play again on autopilot.

He forced to listen to the opening, hoping this is some sick trick of his ears.

“We’re no strangers to love-”

Pause. He pressed the forward button, waited a few seconds, then hit play again.

“-just wanna tell you how I’m feel-”

Pause. Forward again. Play.

“Your heart’s been ra-”

Forward. Play.

“Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down. Never gonna-”

Fucking forward again-

Click.

Eddie’s breathing heavily through his nose. He’s seeing red prickling the edges of his vision as he rewound the tape to the fucking beginning.

Forward. Play.

“You know the rules and so do I-”

He stopped the tape and clicked the button so fiercely he nearly broke it. Once the cassette was freed, he grabbed and immediately stalked out. “I’m going out!” He shouted as he snatched his car keys and passed by Wayne, who was still in the kitchen and drinking his coffee in amusement.

Eddie drove to Steve’s house, fast and furious and one-handed. He gripped the cassette in his clutches, unable to let it infect his van. Thank god his radio was off. If he heard that song play one more time-

He screeched to a stop on the driveway. He got out and marched to the front door. He knocked hard and loud for several seconds and waited, fuming. He heard a few muttering and footsteps. Then the door clicked open and there was Steve, grinning at the sight of Eddie.

And Eddie slapped him across the face.

Before Steve could recover, Eddie shoved the cursed cassette tape to his boyfriend’s chest. He yelled, “Thanks for the fucking mixtape!” And turned back around, purposefully blocking out any pleas Steve might have called out for him.

As he drove back home, Eddie felt satisfaction replacing his righteous anger. And then the satisfaction was replaced with dread and horror.

“Oh my god, I just broke up and hurt my boyfriend!” He immediately turned his van back to Steve’s house, tires screeching.

He parked more hazardously this time, but he didn’t care as he rushed out of the driver’s seat and ran back to the front door, despite his leg’s protest. This time, when Steve opened the door again, Eddie pounced on him with an inescapable koala hug, legs around his waist style.

Words tumbled out of his mouth as he carefully held his boyfriend’s face. “I’m so so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean it! I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry I hit you. I promise I never hated you at all or hate your song choices again, can you forgive me? How bad did I slap- oh god, there’s a bruise! I’m so fucking sorry I’m such a shitty boyfriend-!”

Eddie wailed tearfully into Steve’s neck as he was patted lightly on the back. He could hear Steve shushing and giggling quietly in his ear. “Hey, hey, Eds, Eddie. It’s okay, I swear. I’m fine, promise.”

Eddie shook his head like he was five years old again, “You’re not fine! I just slapped you across the face and I called you an idiot!”

“Eddie, you didn’t call me an idiot. You just said thanks for the mixtape.”

“But it was mean and horrible. And I implied that you w-”

“Hey.” He felt Steve’s nose bumping to his cheek. “First, you didn’t call me an idiot. You never had and never will, even when you’re angry. Second, it was my idea to send you that tape with the Rick Astley single. I knew you hated it, but I thought it was funny to mess with you and clearly it wasn’t. Would you call me an idiot for that?”

Eddie lifted his head up at that, staring at Steve with teary-eyed shock. “What? Of course not!”

Steve smiled softly, still looking at Eddie like he was the only best person in the whole world. “See? You now know it was a joke and I now know it was too mean-spirited. I’m very sorry about hurting your trust like that, Ed. But I promise that I’m never doing it again. You can cross my heart for me on that because I literally can’t let you go of your ass yet.”

Eddie snorted and kissed gently on the reddened skin of Steve. He felt shame burning his lips and eyes until Steve kissed him back.

“Oh my god…”

Eddie whirled his head around. The kids were in the living room, all in varied levels of shock, because of course they are. Only Max and Erica were on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn with mirroring smiles. But Robin was also here and she looked ready to murder Eddie on sight, her hand clenched around a thin ceramic vase. The only reason she hadn’t moved further was because Dustin, Mike and Lucas were literally holding her back.

“Robin. We’re cool now. Put the vase down.” Steve said nonchalantly.

Robin just glared at Eddie more. She then pointed at him and made a cutting motion across her throat before hissing, “You’re back on thin ice, Eddie.” Then she easily freed herself of the boys’ clutched and huffed towards the kitchen.

Steve started moving, still holding Eddie who was still hugging him, “We’re gonna be in my room. Just remember to knock, dipshits.”

“No sex!” Everyone yelled in unison, Robin being the loudest. Eddie bit back a laugh as he was jostled up the stairs to Steve’s bedroom. Only when they laid down on bed that Eddie finally let go, groaning at the stiffness and aches in his limbs and back. Steve rubbed a hand along his side in comfort, “You want anything?”

“Just listening to music is fine. ‘m tired.” He reached out a finger and crossed Steve’s chest. “Just no more of that Rick fucker. You change the tape while I’m listening, I’ll break your dick.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he nodded and grabbed his Walkman from his drawer. He took out a Billy Idol cassette and showed it to Eddie who nodded in approval. Then Eddie shuffled closer, resting his head against his boyfriend’s chest as a non-Rick Astley song played though the headphones.

#very sorry to everyone #if you like to feel better there’s this song you can listen—*gunshot*#a couple decades later max sends eddie an email with a video link #steve comes home with eddie sheepishly showing his bruised knuckles for punching and breaking his computer screen #steve immediately understands what happened because he too was rickrolled earlier at work #now their pain is mutual #hope you people enjoy this stupid joke lmao #klaus writes #steddie #stranger things

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pareidoliaonthemove · 5 months

Text

Reason 102 to Wear Your Helmet

You would think an aquanaut would know the value of keeping their helmet on.

Warning: Rat. One rat. One very large rat.

It was hot.

No, scratch that. It was a furnace. And Gordon was stuck in the middle of it.

Australian summers had gotten steadily hotter, and bushfires had gotten larger and more frequent, all due to global warming.

After (too many) firestorms and lives lost, authorities had gotten better at forestry maintenance, a large part of which was backburning operations. Unfortunately, no matter the amount of planning, care and precautions, Mother Nature could, would, and did exert her will over humankind.

What had started out as a carefully executed hazard reduction burn had been blindsided by high winds and unseasonably hot temperatures. The local authorities and volunteer fire services had fought the blaze with everything they had, but the fire had gotten out of the control and when it threatened an unprepared town, International Rescue had been summoned and launched.

They had started with evacuating the town ahead of the inferno, and then, as it threatened to turn on a second unwitting town, the focus had shifted to fighting the fire itself.

Scott and Gordon had worked firepods on the flanks, while Alan was granted rare operational flight time on Thunderbird Two – the astronaut had yet to earn his groundfire qualifications, age apparently being a bigger barrier to firefighting than to space certification, while Virgil and his fire exosuit stood with the locals and challenged the beast head on.

It had been a hard fight, in tough conditions, but eventually the fire was contained and tamed to the point where the locals had felt confident in finishing up operations unassisted.

And not a moment too soon, from International Rescue’s point of view. They had been on the ground for over twenty-four hours, with few opportunities for rest periods, and less to cycle their equipment through a cool down. Brain’s cahelium alloy was a wonder, but even it had its limits. Thunderbird Two, spending much of her time hovering above the fire front, blasting it with both sonic suppressors and water bombing runs, had soaked up a lot of heat, and now the flying behemoth needed time to cool down and dissipate some of the stored thermal energy in her hull before she cooked her own electronics.

It was easier said than done when the ambient atmospheric temperature was creeping dangerously towards the 50deg Celsius mark.

John had found safe location for the transporter to land, without risking starting off a new fire, and the pods had hared off cross country to meet her, Virgil clinging tiredly to the side of Scott’s pod with his exosuit.

Gordon was thrilled to be able to extract himself from his pod, the opportunity to stretch out, and get some blood flow back in his legs, temporarily distracting him from the other issues.

He and Scott had both been forced to resort to their full uniform rig inside the pods, sealing themselves away behind their helmets as the pod’s air filtration and temperature regulation had started to fail from the onslaught. Sealing themselves behind the ‘double-bubble’ as John had termed it, had allowed them more time on the ground, but it did have its drawbacks.

Gordon was – first, foremost, and last – an aquanaut. It was his primary role in International Rescue, and all his personal equipment was geared towards that particular role, and the deep sea environment that was his element. Including his uniform. Especially his uniform.

The deep sea was cold. Very cold.

And fire was not.

Gordon Tracy was a fish, not just out of water, but in the frying pan.

He was, he decided, going to have to speak to Brains about a uniform variant for high temperature work. Like all the IR unforms, his was intended to be used in all temperature conditions – it was even space-rated – but, out of necessity, it was more efficient at maintaining a temperature in deep cold water, an environment that Gordon was most decidedly not currently inhabiting.

Blood flow adequately restored, he surveyed his new surrounds.

John had directed them to a grain storage facility, twenty kilometres as the Thunderbird flies on the western side of the firefront. Less than optimal growing conditions had produced a poor harvest, and the blue-tarped bunkers were clustered on one side of the facility, leaving plenty of open bare ground for Thunderbird Two to settle on her extended struts between the concrete walls of the empty bunkers. Alan had quickly powered her down, and exited via the cockpit floor elevator to join Scott and Virgil near a star-struck cluster of the site’s employees.

Gordon looked around. There was a train parked in a siding, a discharge chute from overhead garner bins still pointing into an open wagon, loading operations abandoned when the company had granted International Rescue permission to use it as a temporary parking facility, and Gordon sought temporary refuge in the scant shadow of the wagons.

It wasn’t just the pods and Thunderbird that was worked to straining point in the heat. Gordon’s uniform wasn’t up to the sustained task, and with his helmet still clamped firmly over his head, he felt like he was trapped in his own personal sauna. Gordon looked around, the wind had died down, so there was no risk of smoke inhalation if he breathed unfiltered air. There were signs on the infrastructure surrounding him warning him that the loading facility was a hard hat area, but all operations had ceased, and there was definitely no one in the gantry above him.

Gordon risked it, pulling off his helmet, and feeling a slight breeze that felt like a slice of heaven after the stifling confines of his uniform helmet.

A youngish man in a sweat soaked hi-vis shirt, shorts and safety boots unzipped at the sides, a hardhat sliding over his skull as he walked, was hurrying up to him, clutching a large bottle of what looked like chilled water. He looked horrified as Gordon removed his helmet. “Sir, please, don’t …”

Something heavy landed on Gordon’s skull, small sharp blades seemed to rake the top of his head, before the whatever-it-was leapt off him, rocking his head back slightly with the force of its propulsion, passing briefly in front of his face to land on the ground and disappear under the train wagons. Gordon had a brief glimpse of long whiskers, dirty yellow fur, and a long naked pink tail before the monstrosity disappeared.

Gordon stared at the ground where he had last seen the creature. “Wh-what …?”

“Sir, are you all right? How’s your neck?” The young man had reached Gordon, forcing the bottle into his hands, before reaching up to gingerly touch the side of Gordon’s neck.

His hands were ice cold, and Gordon started a little. “Shit, sorry! Did that hurt?” The man snatched his hand away and grabbed at a little handheld radio clipped to his belt, speaking before Gordon could reply. “Boss. Over at the train spout. IR guy took his helmet off…”

An expletive crackled back over the radio, as an older man split away from the gaggle surrounding his brothers, who were quicky in pursuit, the remainder of the onlookers, trailing after them like curious ducklings.

The ‘boss’ skidded to a halt in front of Gordon. “Are you alright?” He turned to his underling before Gordon had a chance to answers. “Is he alright? What happened?” He glanced up at the wagon. “Shit, did Canola …?”

Virgil and Scott arrived, Virgil had a medscanner out, and was passing over Gordon, even as he was sliding to a stop, and Scott started snapping out questions, demanding to know what had happened.

“Uhh, he had an encounter with … local wildlife?” the young man offered reluctantly, as Virgil frowned at the medscanner results.

“No injuries flagged, except some cuts on the top of his skull …” IR’s medic reported.

Scott frowned, before turning to face the site employees. “Local wildlife?” he asked.

The boss nodded, and gestured to the hardhat signs. “Yeah. It’s a known hazard, but we can’t trap the damn thing …”

“What was it?” Gordon asked, as Virgil tried standing on tiptoe to examine the top of his skull. “Because it looked a lot like …” he trailed off, and shuddered.

There was a lot of shuffling of feet. “Um, what would you like it to be?” the young man asked, sheepishly.

Gordon glared. “I can only think of two things have long pink furless tails, and it was too freaking big for either of them.”

“It could be a possum, if you want it to be?” A young woman asked. “You know, a possum with, um, fashion opinions?”

Scott sighed, and turned to the site boss. “You said ‘Canola’. Canola is a grain, how could canola cause multiple lacerations on to the top of his head?”

The site manager flushed. “Um, we call it ‘Canola’, ‘cause we always see it over by the canola bunkers, and it’s about the same colour as the pulp when its crushed.”

“Stinks like canola, too,” offered up a voice from the cluster of employees standing back watching the show.

Scott stared. “What exactly are we talking about?” he asked, mystified.

“Um, well, it’s a … uh, rat?” The site manager seemed embarrassed.

Alan stared. “A rat?”

“A really big rat?” offered another voice. All the site employees nodded, embarrassedly, as if understanding exactly how bizarre the explanation was.

Another man in long trousers was bending down and peering under the wagons with a torch. “Ah, here he is, if you want to see him for yourself.”

The four Tracy’s moved forward, Virgil keeping a firm hold on Gordons’ arm, and as one, they crouched down to look under the wagon.

Scott and Alan recoiled, while Virgil, eyes wide, let go of Gordon’s arm to pull out a small camera from his baldric, and capturing a few images, before setting it to record a short video. Gordon glared at it, reaching for a nearby chunk of rock.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t do that,” the man beside him said, bemused. “There used to be cats all over this place – easy hunting, plenty of mice, y’know? Canola there saw ‘em off. He fights nasty.”

Gordon recoiled, and looked back at the rat clinging to the metal rigging under the wagon. Now he had a good look, from nose to tail, the beast was easily two foot long. Gordon had seen fully grown dogs smaller than Canola, never mind cats.

Gordon’s mind flashed back to the old movie Lady and the Tramp, suddenly the rat attacking the baby didn’t seem so farfetched.

Gordon started away, was the rat suddenly noticed them, whipped up to clamber along the wagon, clinging to the metal undersides, before leaping off and scampering away towards the blue-tarped ridges on the far side of the train.

“Wow!” Virgil’s eyes were huge. “I’ve never seen a rat so big, I mean you hear about giant New York Sewer Rats, but …” he shook his head.

Gordon reached up to scratch his head, wincing at the pain it created, and pulling a way bloody fingertips. “Damn!”

Virgil frowned, and glanced worriedly at Thunderbird Two, still emitting a thick heat haze. He turned to the site boss. “Um, we can’t access our medical facilities until my ‘Bird cools down some. Do you have a first aid kit we can use?”

The man nodded vigorously. “Sure thing!” Before his eyes went wide. “Um, we kinda need to …”

Scott sighed. “You need to create an incident report.” His head dropped down. “For an on-site injury to an International Rescue employee.” He stared at the signage, then glared at Gordon’s helmet, still hanging forgotten in his left hand. “Because he removed his helmet in signposted hardhat area.”

The man gulped. “Nothing like that! Work was suspended, he should have been right to remove it. It was just … a local knowledge thing …” He pointed eagerly to a transportable building standing on short cinderblock piers, with an ungodly number of air conditioning units, hanging off the sides. “First aid kit’s here, and you can wait as long as you want for your equipment to cool down. Feel free to use the kitchen facilities, and we’re just about to put in our food order for delivery, so you’re welcome to order whatever you want.”

His spiel went on, as he led the way, tired IR operatives, and awed employees trailing in his wake.

Gordon sighed. It was going to be a long wait to head home.

He hoped it was an equally long wait before they had to launch again.

John’s hologram popped up in place of their movie, with no warning. “Scott, I’ve had a very odd incident report forwarded to me from that Grain Receival site you parked up at in Australia.” He frowned. “Gordon apparently sustained an injury requiring first aid treatment from,” he glanced at a display near the camera, reading, “‘canola landing on his head’? Is that correct?”

Alan sniggered from the safety of his perch in his launch seat. “Yup. 100% correct.”

John’s frown intensified. “Canola is an oil producing seed. It is approximately the size of a mustard grain. How did canola cause lacerations?”

Virgil fiddled with the tablet he had abandoned, shooting a file into orbit. “Because this is Canola.”

They watched as John watched the video recording, an expression of horror growing on his face. “Is that … Is that a rat?”

Gordon smirked. “It could be a possum with fashion opinions, if that makes it better for you.”

John stared in horror. “Eos?”

“Yes, John?”

“Please add, ‘Giant Rats’ to my list of reasons why I stay in space.”

“Of course.” A pause. “You now have three-hundred and seventy-five official reasons why you prefer to live in space.”

The earthbound brothers stared, “You have a list?” Alan blurted.

“Am I on it?” Gordon demanded.

“Oh yes,” Eos responded brightly. “You’re reason number one.”

John cut the connection.

Notes:

I had to listen to a 20 minute rant from one of our little newbie assistant drivers complaining about having to wear a hardhat at some of our loading sites, and how ineffective they would be if anything actually fell on them from one of the silos (true, a bog standard plastic hardhat is gonna do very little if a silo lets go), and I was reminded of my encounter with an abnormally large rat that decided I would make a suitable step on their descent from the top of a wagon, way back when I was a little baby train driver.

Luckily I was wearing my hard hat; that site had the hardhat rule because of Canola the Rat (so named because he lived near the bunkers storing canola, which is apparently steroids for rodents. He was enormous, and beat up on the cats that used to live on-site for the easy mice hunting to the point they up and moved away), who had caused some nasty lacerations requiring stitches when he pulled the same manoeuvre on people who didn’t wear hardhats.

Took a while to live down. The loading site reported it to my company as a ‘near miss’, and it went out on the monthly safety briefing. Nationwide. No names were mentioned in the briefing, but it didn’t take long for people to figure out who it was locally, and there was a lot of comments about me being afraid of mice.

Until one of the old hands had an encounter with Canola.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

#thunderbirds are go #fanfic #my fanfiction #gordon tracy #rat #terrifyingly large rat

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