#rodney's hand in his pocket

[motivated-breeze]

I COLLECTED MY MAIN FICTIONAL OTHER PLUSHIES AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! 💖💖💖

I had my Paul plushie for two years and now this year, I finally found Vergil tsum tsum in a local online store and I had enough money to order Spamton from Fangamer.

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH PLEASE. THEYRE ALL PERFECT TO ME!!!!

Now.... how do I bring all of them

#self ship #self insert #self shipping #self ship community #devil may cry #dmc vergil #deltarune #spamton #tekken #paul phoenix #rodney draws #rodney rambles #i cherish all of them #crying at how big spamton is actually #vergil in my pocket and spamton and paul in my giant backpack #paul has a ripped leather because i love holding and rubbing on his hand im so sad

[fuck-customers]

Manager asks me to do a return. I don't work in printing and therefore do not know how to do it. Looked at receipt again. 76 cents. 76. Cents. I explain I don't know how, he says he'll do it when he's free.

Woman comes a few minutes later.

Woman: Has my return been done?

Me: The 76 cents one?

Her, not hearing how fucking stupid that sounds: Yes.

Said I need a manager coz idk how. Few minutes go by. She asks who the manager is. I call over another manager coz she's clearly getting impatient. I explain the situation to him and hand him her receipt. Idk if he didn't know how to do it, either or if it's just too fucking stupid; he just takes a dollar out of his pocket and hands it to her. She gives him a bemused look, still unable to grasp how stupid this is, takes the dollar, and leaves.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[spurious]

okay but john having to deal with rodney's ability to rapidly assimilate information and practice it to muscle memory re: weapons training

so i've been rotating this ask in my brain ever since it arrived in my inbox because it makes me think about many many things. (thank you)

here is one of the things i have been thinking:

Rodney thinks weapons training is a waste of his time and unnecessarily militaristic for a civilian expedition, until the third--or is it fourth? Could be the fifth--time that his ability to competently operate firearms under pressure is one of the only things standing between him, his team, and certain death.

After the dust settles from their latest far-too-violent adventure, he goes to Sheppard, not so early as to run into people in the halls, but not so late as to worry (much) about waking him up, and says, "Alright, you win."

Sheppard blinks, gives him what Rodney's pretty sure is just his normal sleepy-eyed look, not a sign that Rodney had woken him, and says, "Well, that's great." He tilts his head, shifts from foot to foot in that restless, hippy sort of way he has. "What'd I win, exactly?"

"I'm agreeing to submit myself to weapons training," Rodney says, impatient. "And we're doing it now because I'm not going to the armory when it's full of people."

"Dunno if I'd call that winning," Sheppard mutters, but he's already slipping socked feet into his half-laced boots, so Rodney doesn't particularly care if he wants to complain on the way.

--

John's won something, that's for fucking sure, he thinks to himself as he watches Rodney's hands quickly and precisely disassemble his sidearm. Rodney had watched John do it once, had asked a series of extremely detailed, rapid-fire questions, and then proceeded to try it for himself four times in quick succession, each iteration becoming more competent, more assured.

"It really is just simple mechanics, in the end," Rodney's saying, and he's been murmuring to himself the whole time, even as John's trying to act casual, his mouth dry and his body prickling with terrible heat.

They're alone in the armory, most of the lights not even on, it smells like metal and cordite and gun oil and John is thinking about doing something extremely ill-advised, something like pressing Rodney up against the shelving and licking into his mouth, or dropping to his knees and seeing what those hands would feel like in his hair, guiding his mouth around a hot hard cock.

"Alright," Rodney announces, jarring John out of his fantasy. He stuffs a hand in his pocket, tilts his hips in a way that he hopes makes things a little less obvious--not that Rodney seems to be looking. He's holding up the gun, a lopsided smile on his face. "Now I shoot something?"

John thinks about stepping in close, about putting his hands on Rodney's thick arms to correct his grip, about being close enough to smell his skin, and says, trying not to sound strangled, "Yeah, Rodney, time to shoot something."

#honestly idk if this is what you were thinking about with this but #i put my hands on the keyboard and this came out #mcshep #fic

[cevansbrat0007]

The Key

Summary: A broken furnace and a slip of the tongue lead to a special gift from your very stubborn boyfriend. Andy Barber x Black Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Protective Andy Barber, Insecure Reader, Pet Names, Light Smut, Implied Oral (fem receiving), Cursing, Minors DNI.

A/N: I don't know where this came from, but it's almost 3AM and I need to sleep. Anyway, I'm halfway done with like eight different fics, most of them requests. But then my writer's block kicked in. Please enjoy this installment while I try to get my life together. Part of my Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own.

___

"Ack, Andy Bear! What are you doing here?" You squeal as your man strides through your front door with you in his arms, your short legs wrapped around his trim waist. "Sh-shouldn't you be packing? Ope - don't forget the door!"

His booted heel kicks it closed. "Had to come check on you." Andy responds before brushing his warm lips over your own. "I'm your man, baby. It's what I do."

"But I'm fine..." You tell him, burying your face in the crook of his neck and inhaling his clean, masculine scent. "I don't need anything."

"No, you said you were cold. That makes you not fine." He tells you as his hand skims its way under your sweatshirt to lightly stroke your lower back. "I can't have you over here freezing while I'm out of town - I wouldn't be able to concentrate. I'd be too busy thinkin' about my baby girl home all alone just shivering."

"Oh, my goodness, Big Man. My landlord will be by to fix my furnace in a couple of days. Until then...I guess I'll just have to keep doubling up on sweatshirts." Wanting him to relax, you begin whispering sweet kisses along his bearded jaw, nuzzling at the soft scruff with your nose.

"A couple days is completely unacceptable." He growls, his tone letting you know that he was in no mood to argue. "It's November. And we live in fucking Massachusetts."

"Andy, sweetheart..." He shifts your smaller frame so that you're resting comfortably on his hip. Your boyfriend then carries you to your room and gently deposits you on your pink and periwinkle-colored duvet, all the while ignoring your feeble protests.

"You're staying at my place until that Ralph fucker decides to get off his ass and do his fucking job." Your man informs you as he begins rifling through your drawers, pulling out items and then haphazardly tossing them into your overnight bag.

God, how you adored every inch of your big, overbearingly ridiculous man.

"Honey, his name is Rodney. And I'll be fine. If it gets too bad, I can go stay with Melissa or something."

"Nope." Andy grunts, holding a pair of lacy pink panties up to the light. "The matter's already been settled. I want you in my home, snuggled in my bed, all tangled up in my of the sheets."

Shaking his head, he tosses the underwear back inside before muttering something about you "only needing the essentials".

Wait. Since when did those no longer fall under the category of essential?

"How many bras do you think you'll need? Eh, fuck it. You can bring 'em all if you want. It's the panties I have a problem with. Damned things always get in the way."

You scrub an exhausted hand over your face as your six-foot-something boyfriend remains hunkered in front of your dresser, quietly debating the usefulness, or lack-there-of, of your underthings.

"They get in the way of what?" Of course you just had to know.

"My fun." He grumbles, flashing you a petulant look. "So they stay here. Shit - I left my garment bag by the door. Go on and snag a few blouses and some pants, baby girl, and I'll help you get them all packed up before we freeze to death in here."

"Oh. My. God." You roll your eyes. It wasn't even that cold.

At least not yet.

"Andrew, darling, I never actually agreed to go with you. Plus, I don't even have a key to - oh." Your stubborn bull of a man silences you with a heated look before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small white box tied with a black ribbon.

"I was planning to give this to you on your birthday, but this seems like a much better time. As of now, I want you to consider my home your home too."

Removing the key from the box, you stare down at the shiny piece of metal your man had made especially for you.

Why did the weight of it feel so good resting in your hand?

"Thank you." You whisper, tears burning the back of your throat.

"You're welcome, Y/N. I want you to use it whenever. Come stay for a night, or for a week..."

Or, for forever. He thinks, letting the unspoken words hang in the air between you.

"But as for your not agreeing to go with me, well, I'm afraid that just won't work." Andy tsks as he zips up your duffle before unceremoniously tossing it into the hall. "One way or another, we're getting you out of this ice box, little one."

"Okay," you try again. "But what about my car? I really don't think -"

"Why are you fighting me on this?" He asks, his sensual lips set in a thin, firm line. "I need you some place safe and warm while I'm busy shaking hands and negotiating deals in D.C."

Your eyes stray back to the key that is now nestled safely in its little box filled with pink tissue paper.

"Answer me, please." Oh, Andy was using his attorney voice, the one that commanded both respect and attention in the courtroom.

"I - I just don't want to be any trouble. I feel bad for even saying anything about my stupid heat in the first place." You admit with a resigned shrug. "You need to be getting ready for your trip, but instead you're - you're here."

"I'm here because you need me."

"But I - I don't." You wince as those two words come tumbling out of your mouth.

Because it was a lie. You did need him.

"That scares you a little bit, doesn't it? The idea of needing someone, of needing me."

"No." You feel your lower lip begin to tremble ever so slightly.

God, yes.

"Y/N, how many times do I have to remind you that we're in this together? I'm your man. And I'm old-school when it comes to that shit. I believe in taking care of my woman, in providing for her however I can."

"I get it, Andy." You do your best to look at everything and everywhere but him. This man had a knack for making you feel vulnerable, and you weren't always comfortable with that.

"No, you don't." Using two long fingers, he tips your chin so that his soulful blue eyes clash with your own. "Whether you realized you were doing it or not, you called because you needed me today. And it's my job to take care of you - all of you."

"But I don't want to be a job for you. A job runs the risk of becoming a burden real fuckin' quick. And then when it becomes too much, bam! You run the other way." You jerk away from him, preferring to stare at your fuzzy sock-clad feet, wishing you could simply melt into the floor.

And there it was. You were afraid that this man would drop you like a bad habit the moment you became a burden. And as dramatic as it might sound, there was a part of you that knew that your heart might never fully recover something like that. Not with him.

Things are quiet for a while. And then Andy settles on the bed next to you before pulling you flush against him. The two of you are so close that you're practically half sprawled on his big lap, your bottom resting atop his thickly muscled thighs.

"Then please allow me to rephrase. It's not just my job to take care of you, it's my privilege, baby girl."

A sniffle escapes you before you can catch it.

"You're a strong woman. Strong enough to reach out when you need me. The same way it takes a strong man to lean on his woman. Understand?"

You nod, closing your eyes as you do.

"Look at me and say the words, Y/N." Your Big Man implores you before kissing the top of your head and burying his face in your curls. "I need to hear 'em, please."

It takes you a couple of seconds, but eventually you muster up enough courage to do as he asks.

"Yes, I - I understand. It takes a strong woman to, um, to lean on her man."

"Good girl."

"And please believe me when I say that your trusting me with your problems doesn't make you a burden. Not now, not ever. We're partners, baby."

For now and forever. Andy thinks to himself. It's clear as day to me, I just need her to see it too.

"Yes, we are, my sweet Andy Bear. I'm sorry for being such a neurotic mess sometimes. I know you must think you're dating a lunatic but -"

"Yep, I am." He sweetly interrupts. "But you've also claimed a crazy, possessive bastard as your man. So, I'd say we're pretty even." You feel another brush of his lips against your skin, this time on your temple.

The two of you sit there for a while in silence, simply enjoying each other's warmth. Truthfully, it wasn't that cold in your apartment, but according to the forecast, that would change over night. You needed to be some place with working heat and a comfortable bed.

And your Andy Bear came with all of that, complete with sheets and pillows that smelled just like him. Of course you'd find a way to pay him back. Maybe you'd cook him a big dinner, or buy him season tickets to the Patriots, or --

Your thought stream is interrupted by the sound of Andy's gruff voice.

"I think we need to do something to quiet that beautiful mind of yours, don't we?" He purrs, before lavishing the column of your throat with a hot, open-mouthed kiss.

And then you feel one large, slightly calloused hand go to rest on your chest. Using just a fraction of his strength, he gently forces you onto your back. A shiver courses through you as he runs his palms down the length of your body in an act of raw, unbridled possession.

Lifting your ass, you allow him to remove your black leggings. He makes sure to take his time, dragging the thin material across your heated skin with agonizing slowness.

A breathy moan escapes your lips when he parts your thighs, baring your panty-covered pussy to his predatory gaze.

"I'd like to rephrase my earlier statement one more time if I could."

Without warning, Andy leans in and buries his face between your legs. He takes a moment to inhale your scent before nuzzling your swollen clit through the damp fabric.

"Oh-oh-kaaay." You whimper as he briefly sucks the sensitive bud into his warm, waiting mouth. "

"It's my job, my pleasure, and my privilege to keep my lady's sweet body warm and her greedy cunt stuffed full. And I'm a man who believes in honoring his fucking commitments."

You cry out when he rips the lace from your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable from the waist down.

"This is mine, baby. All mine. Now, lie back like a good girl and let me show you just how much I enjoy caring for my woman, starting with eating the fuck out of her pretty little pussy."

END

#chris evans #andy barber #defending jacob fics #chris evans smut #andy barber smut #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x black!reader #andy barber x black!reader #andy barber x black reader #chris evans x woc!reader #andy barber x woc!reader #chris evans imagines #andy barber imagine #cevansbrat0007 fics #cevansbrat0007 asks #cevansbrat0007growing pains series #chris evans x yn #chris evans x y/n #chrs evans x reader #andy barber x yn #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x reader #chris evans fanfic #andy barber fanfic #chris evans fanfiction

[itsvunker]

It's in the distant future... Society as morphed past the original ideal. Men are now the most treasured commodity in the world. Masculinity and manhood are defacto signs of leadership and virility, they are the very essence of sexuality. Men will give anything and everything in this world to maintain their status at the top as the alpha in their environment. However, when illicit activity is reported and the suspect is detained, their manliness is considered forfeit. If there is a victim in the crime, the forfeit masculinity is awarded to them. While under their sentence, these criminal "men" are ridiculed, humiliated, and dominated by the actual representations of manhood. In today's example, we find Troy, a platinum blonde man of respectable size and stature. Troy was the victim of a robbing at the hands of Rodney. Rodney, being the man of larger girth, muscle, and masculinity, thought he could take everything that Troy had. Unfortunately for him, there were constables on patrol near the incident, and Rodney was quickly apprehended.

"Hey man! Lay off! This is my wallet!" Troy exclaimed, as Rodney took his shirt off, exposing his intimidating hairy body. Muscles flexed, and his gut swayed, the very earth seemed to rumble beneath his step. Throwing his entire weight behind it, Rodney gut checked Troy to the ground, pinning him with his massive stomach. Easily having 150 lbs or more on Troy, the man couldn't free himself from his fatty prison as Rodney's calloused hands rummaged through Troy's back pocket, fishing for the wallet. As soon as his cash prize was extracted, Rodney leaned back on his heels, stood up briefly in order to flip Troy over. Troy looked upon the face of his assailant, as his hands were pinned above his head with one meaty paw, Rodney raised his shirt, exposing his bare, hairless midsection. This was Rodney's favorite part, as he grinned to himself, lowering his massive tank back into place, its girthy weight piling on top of Troy's stomach, its hairy mass arousing the bottom man.

"What's the matter, little man, getting all worked up by this massive man on top of you?" His own cock stirring in his jeans. He flexed a powerful bicep with his free hand before really grinding his heft into the lower man. Troy winced in pain as sharp stones on the sidewalk dug into his exposed skin, his cock harder than iron, he felt Rodney's rod stiffening on top of him, and just as Rodney thrust his massive gut into his body, Troy embarrassingly came, painting the insides of his jock strap white with his load, whole body spasming. Rodney unfastened the button on his waist and freed his own cock, jerking it hard before painting the lower man's stomach with his own copious load. Feeling superior in every way to the blonde man below him, Rodney collected himself and his shirt, turning to face two boys in blue. "Ah shit..." The two cops, who had seen the whole thing transpire, fired their non-lethal weapons square into the man's broad barrel chest. They both discharged their payload, rendering the man's muscles and body mass useless, as their strength and weight were sapped from him. If there was a scale below him, the numbers would rapidly fall from his 425lb frame, although his appearance would stay as massive as he was. It was a special technology made at the turn of the century which rendered any man's power worthless and made them as weak as a twink of the old days, no matter what they physically looked like.

We rejoin our two men in the prison, Troy clad in only his jock strap, and Rodney stark naked, save for a clear hose fixed firmly on his manhood. The presiding judge spoke up and broke the silence in the room. "Rodney McCurrington, you are sentenced to a period of time no shorter than 5 years, relieved of your masculinity. As the victim in the crime, Troy, you are awarded the manhood removed from the defendant. Bailiff?" The hefty bailiff in the room assisted Troy with the opposite end of the hose attached to Rodney, lubing up the end and gently inserting it inside Troy's puckered asshole. Once it was firmly attached, the judge pressed the button to begin the process. The LED monitor on the wall shone to life, displaying the status of the procedure. [Mass Drain Initiated] adorned the first line, followed by Subject A and Subject B with a percentage behind each. The bailiff administers a drug to Rodney, whose manhood immediately springs to full erectness before his nuts start to spill their load unprovoked. Another marvel of the century, this drug is able to induce orgasm without stimulation in men. Despite the immense pleasure coursing through his cock, Rodney gritted his teeth. In a gruff manly voice, he managed to grunt out "N…no... It's... nnngh... starting..." The numbers slowly began ticking up on the percentages. Before long, 5% of Rodney's masculinity had been siphoned from him. Troy, who had bulked up just a little bit from Rodney's gains, gleefully reported "Oooh~ It feels like a REAL MAN is filling me inside...~"

The machine pumped and slurped away at Rodney's body, hungrily devouring anything that entitled him to be called a man, his prodigious gut slowly deflating like a balloon, his muscles withering away under his skin, and his body hair receding into his body. The display on the wall flashed a new phrase in addition to the growing percentages. [Beginning de-alpha routine] From somewhere deep inside him, Rodney felt a change begin to take hold. He slowly began to lose interest in lording himself over other men... instead... a faint desire to service them instead began to take root. As more of his manhood was drained from his body, Rodney's submissiveness only grew. His protests and demands for this to be stopped faded into only low grunts and moans as his cock is pumped for all that it's worth. His testicles shrinking and emptying faster and faster, his sack climbed up his rapidly thinning thighs. He could practically feel himself growing impotent, knowing he could never get anyone pregnant with his faded swimmers declining in number fast. His cock shrinking in tandem with his balls, he blushed in humiliation. Troy on the other hand was grunting and feeling the opposite... he only wanted to dominate other men more and more as Rodney's testosterone found its new home in his body. "Feeling... manlier... already..." as the numbers on the screen read 27% for drained and gained.

53% of the process completed by this point, Rodney was a shadow of the man he was. His facial hair reduced to little more than 5 o'clock shadow, as well all the other hair on his body. His moans are now giving way to pleads, a far cry from his original demands. "Ha...aaahh... My... manhood... P...please....S...stop..." 60% of his alpha male testosterone had been drained from his body. His chest lost its barrel shape as his shoulders drew closer together, no longer spread wide by his massive muscles, his proud gut little more than a small paunch at this point. His balls ached as they reached the size of peas, his cock no larger than a button, he had little left to lose there. Troy however turned to face his assailant at this point, his gluttonous gut swelling rapidly as large gobs of Rodney's manhood invaded his ass, his muscles bloating with newfound size and power, he flexed his arm and watched in amazement as it grew before his eyes. His beard began to grow longer, draping over his ballooning pecs at this point. "Mmmph... Fuck yeah..." he moaned into Rodney's ear. "It feels so good to have all your power and manliness invading my body, making me into the superior man. I understand why you ground me into the dirt back there with your gut. This thing is getting enormous!" He glanced at the monitor to check the numbers. "And we're only about halfway done!! Hahaha!" his voice booming deeper and more gruff with every word.

With one final tiny spurt from his nub, Rodney relieved himself of the last of his testosterone, and renounced himself as a man to the world. The machine sensed this, and caused his half of the hose to fall limply off his shrunken hips. He took a moment to explore his "body", white-hot shame burning through his whole frame. He could see his "cock" for the first time in years. His spindly fingers reached out to touch it, his sexual stamina now reduced to zero, as soon as he grazed it with the tip of his finger, it sprang to full hardness, a whopping half an inch, and immediately caused him to double over in a mind wrenching orgasm that he felt through his entire emaciated body. His tiny balls, worked overtime to be able to produce anything, little more than a drop dripped out from his tip. He groaned as he came back from his orgasm, feeling the rest of his hairless body, the skin clinging tight to his ribs, he had to be no more than 110 lbs WITH clothes on. He glanced to the monitor, and more shame washed over him as the readout displayed "[Subject B, Not Detected, Manhood Fallout Observed" Subject B Alpha Male depleted.] Above this, the readout sang praises to Troy, [Mass Drain Final Pump Started. Subject A, 81% gained.] Rodney looked at Troy, who was absolutely reveling in his own sexual desires.

"HNNNGG.. NNNAAAHHHH... STRONGER!! FATTER!! MANLIER!!!" he roared, his voice so deep it vibrated through Rodney's bony body. Rodney could only watch as his weakened body was unable to stop the final, massive glob of his maleness traveling through the hose into Troy's expanding ass. The jock strap, which had struggled so valiantly to remain intact, finally cut ties with itself and exploded off his body to the nearby wall. As the remaining 20% of Rodney flowed inside him, his gut gurgled loudly and began to jiggle and sway, rapidly getting fatter and hairier. His muscles twitched and spasmed, the dense forest beneath his armpits and across his chest growing darker and thicker by the second. His body was drinking in the very last of Rodney and he was absolutely loving it! His beard grew longer yet, now adorning the top of his humongous tank. Troy threw his head back in pure pleasure before the hose popped out of his thick, hairy, muscled ass, assuming the final bit of mass on his frame, roaring to the crowd watching above as the new alpha male was born.

A hulking mass of hardened muscular steel, firm heavy fat, thick and virile cock and balls, absolutely dressed to the nines in body hair, Troy lorded himself over the emaciated Rodney. He flexed his gut, lifting it just high enough that he could position it over the tiny "man"s body, and then let all of his weight and mass drop on top of him. Rodney's flailing arms groped around the behemoth mass of hairy gut for a few seconds before the stimulation was too much for him. He gripped that fat mountain hard as his cocklet sprayed 10 consecutive "loads" on the underside of Troy's manly mountain. He couldn't help himself with such a low sexual stamina. Troy on the other hand took a newly calloused hand, a working man's hand, to his own throbbing hard cock, giving it a few ginger tugs before he too erupted in bliss. Rodney was coated within the first few ropes that shot from the massive cock, those giant balls in his sack supplying more cum than Rodney will ever produce in 5 years in the first rope. A solid minute of orgasmic bliss later, Troy removed himself from on top of Rodney. The manlet below, completely and totally ruined as a man, drowning in a pool of an actual man's cum whimpered softly. His submissive urges almost causing him to beg Troy to smother him again.

Troy left satisfied. Justice had been served. Rodney was a pitiful excuse for a boy, much less a man at this point, and he was a gargantuan behemoth. Funny. All this happened over the $10 that he happened to be carrying in his wallet at the time. Over his shoulder, Troy called out to the boy, "was it worth the $10, boy?". Rodney's face went deep red. Being called the future society's worst slur, boy, was something he'd have to work through with his therapist.

#belly #fat belly #male weight gain #weight gain #muscle theft #fat theft #masculinity theft #size theft #size drain #size difference

[audioletter]

Day Thirty: Only One Bed (AR1 for @colonelshepparrrrd) (Author's note: Gregory, Queensland is a real place, and my father lived there for a brief time. The more you know!)

Ronon was inches from the kangaroo. A stare down of epic proportions was occurring - the kangaroo laying languid in the shade of a gumtree, and Ronon on all fours.

"This is going to end badly," Rodney whined. "Did he not watch the videos we sent him on Australian wildlife before coming here?"

Teyla walked around Rodney's left, putting one of their carry boxes down near his feet. "You know you cannot stop Ronon when he's on a mission."

Rodney spluttered, his tablet almost flying out of his hands. "And today's mission is get kicked in the face by a muscly marsupial?" A sudden movement and he ducked, squealing a little in a distinctly unmasculine way. "A BIRD just dive-bombed me! What is with this country?"

"That was a magpie, mate, did you need an ice cream container with eyes? Scares 'em off." A warm looking woman walked towards them with John by her side, and Rodney touched his head for injuries. "You'll be fine, they're just protecting their babies."

"Well, is everything out here planning to kill us?" Rodney asked the woman, who introduced herself as Sharon. "I'd heard rumours of your country but…"

Sharon laughed. "Welcome to Gregory, mate. I'd probably get your friend away from the 'roo though, he's going to get a swift biff to the face if he's lucky and one to the nether-regions if he's not."

John walked over and collared Ronon - not an easy feat - pulling him away from the kangaroo who seemed unfazed by the whole thing. "Not now, Ronon, we need to find this ZPM that's been detected here."

"We were just bonding," Ronon growled, but he gave the kangaroo one last dark look before dragging himself over to the group, now surrounded by the last cases of detection equipment from their very out-of-place SUV hire car.

"You'll need a place to stay, right?" Sharon said, putting her hands on her hips. "The Gregory Downs Hotel is mine, and I've only one room left but you're welcome to it."

"That would be excellent, thank you," John smiled, and Rodney rolled his eyes at Sharon's flushed cheeks and shy smile in response. "Where can we check-in?"

The sound of birds and rustling of trees broke through the oppressive heat, the humidity almost killing Rodney the moment they'd stepped out of the car in Gregory, Queensland's...well, "main town" seemed like a stretch, with a population of twenty-five max, but the landscape was, despite being extremely sparse, rather beautiful.

"Ah, nah, we can fix that up in a bit, let's get your stuff to your room." Sharon lead the way, pulling a worn key out of her pocket. The hotel was wood and corrigated iron - Queenslander architecture Rodney had learnt in his study of the area - and she reached a door, wigging the key and swinging the door open to display an even more sparse room than the outside terrain.

And only one bed.

"Sorry, mates, we're full because of a caravan party dropping in, but there's a couch - well, it's a bit buggared but you can make do." She smiled at Teyla. "No doubt these gentlemen will let the lady have the bed, and I'll get you some extra blankets and pillows, all good?"

"All good," John smiled radiantly again, but even Rodney picked up on his dread at the room. "Is there somewhere we can eat?"

"Oh, nah yeah, you can get a good feed at Murray's." She turned and pointed directly next to the hotel. "He'll set you right. Did ya wanna come sign in now, get it over and done with before you fang down?"

"'Fang down'?" Teyla muttered under her breath, moving into the room and testing the bed. It seemed servicable to Rodney's eyes and Teyla's expression confirmed that, and she stood happily. "'Fang down' means to eat?"

Sharon laughed, heartily. "Welcome to Australia, Yanks." She stopped as she turned to walk out. "Oh, 'Yanks' is a term of endearment here, so don't take it too serious, yeah?"

The four of them stared at her and nodded in unison, Rodney clocking the lack of air con and sighed as Sharon left them alone in the room.

—

"No one seems to know anything about a Zed-PM," Rodney groaned, entering the room and throwing himself down on the bed. "And stop trying to get into fights with kangaroos, Ronon."

"I could take one."

"No doubt you could!"

John sighed. "We should get some sleep. Sharon's left some blankets and pillows which is good."

Teyla frowned. "The floor is tile, and the couch seems uncomfortable - certainly we have slept in closer quarters than this bed which seems big enough for all of us?"

A silence fell over the group - awkward, embarrassed and thoughtful - and it was Ronon who threw himself down next to Rodney on the bed and grinned. "Seems fine by me."

"No snuggling," Rodney muttered, knowing he was in for a restless night of Ronon thrashing in his sleep, but he was so tired from the flight to Brisbane, then Cairns, then the massively long drive to Gregory, that he didn't care if he slept on a pile of rocks.

Everyone took their time to get ready, eventually all piling into the surprisingly comfortable bed. The ceiling fan rotated quietly above them, Rodney happily full from the shockingly amazing meal they'd had at Murray's as they lined up, four in a row, on the queen sized bed.

"Good night, all," Teyla whispered from her end of the bed, curled up. "This humidity may be hard to sleep in but let's try."

A chorus of good nights rang through the air, and Rodney found himself falling asleep before he could even complain about the thick air and thin sheet.

—

The next morning - well, it was a game of Jenga to work out exactly how to get them out of the bed. Teyla was still in her ball, but Ronon was very heavily leaning into Rodney, his arm thrown over him, John pressed against Rodney's other side and snoring soundly.

Of course I had to be in the middle, Rodney inwardly groaned, gently picking up Ronon's arm off him and trying to get out of the AR1 puddle. It was going to be impossible until -

"Good morning," Teyla beamed, waking John up in the process. An escape route, Rodney thought, ignoring Teyla and crawling over the top of them to freedom.

"Did you sleep well?" John smirked, stretching his arms above his head.

"Let's just find this Zed-PM before I die of heat stroke and Ronon gets us kicked out for terrorising local wildlife."

"Good plan," Teyla and John said in unison.

#audiolettertober fic #stargate atlantis #ar1 #GO TO AUSTRALIA MATES #and yank is a term of endearment #...in most cases and yes only 1/4th of them are actually americans but eh sharon doesn't know #all this because colonelsheparrrrd wanted ronon to stare down a kangaroo #the things i do for you bb #why is this so long #also i'm aussie and a queenslander so come at me bro #sharon is not real but based on a real person WHO actually saved my dad's life! such depth here amiright (not) #sounds of then by GANGgajang is obvi the song for this fic

[void-botanist]

ROY G BIV tag

I'm finally getting to this tag from @autumnalwalker about three months later!

Rules: Search your your writing for the colours of the rainbow and post the excerpt.

I'll tag @kk7-rbs, @outpost51, and @sarahlizziewrites, plus anyone who wants to join in!

I found the most colors in Nicea, so:

Red - Isabel

“How did you get here so fast?” she asked in a low voice as she sat down on the closer end of the blanket. He was staying on the inconvenient side of the mountain, significantly further away from the trail than Fay’s house. So he should either be trailing behind her, or she should have seen him on the way up. “I was still at Teagan’s when I messaged you,” he said. “Kara made juice.” “Ah, that explains it.” Well, the juice part explained nothing, but she figured it wasn’t supposed to. She looked out over the fields and pastures dotted with houses below, all glowing a little red in the sunlight.

Orange - Spinder

But the trees half-bent over the road, giving him a chance to high-five a low branch on his way by and send a shower of orange pollen down on his back.

Yellow - Isabel

In the dim kitchen doorway was a distinctly animal shape. It swiveled its head toward her and she froze, remembering that she wasn’t supposed to look directly at it, but knowing from the yellow glow of its reflective eyes that it was already too late for that. It padded toward her with the soft click of canine nails on a hard floor, and as it moved, the corridor lights activated, revealing a full-size gray wolf wagging its tail at her. Her brain refused to give a plausible reason for this until she glimpsed the baby-pink collar around its neck. “Tatya?” she whispered.

Green - Isabel

Fay handed her a wood box that was obviously for wine, given that it had a bunch of wine-related words in the shape of a wine bottle on the front. In fact, it was wide enough for two bottles of wine, which was two more than she wanted to take on this trip. Before she could say anything, Fay said, “It’s not wine, that was just the best box I had. Open it.” She set the box sideways on her lap—it was probably heavy enough to be two bottles of wine—and slid the front cover halfway open. It was almost full to the brim with hard candies, each one wrapped in a different color of plastic, but all of them an amberish green color. “They’re peppermint candies,” Fay said. “You probably won’t need that many for the whole trip, but I thought they would help since you get warpsick.”

Blue - Rodney

The connection cut and he flipped his tablet case closed, setting his coffee in his seatside cupholder before getting up to find Tristan. Walking felt good for three seconds before it just reminded him how tired he was. At the first door to the right of the bridge, he lifted a hand to knock, then noticed the blue page clipped to the door. Couldn’t sleep, took a pill. Fuck.

Indigo

I really don't use indigo as much as I should. Not found.

Violet (Purple) - Tristan

“Well, let me take a look at ground zero,” Ed said. “The rest of y’all can get comfortable in the Svando’s if you want.” When he turned, she saw the overlapping white and purple stars on the back pocket of his sleeveless denim coveralls, and something clicked. “Ed,” she said, falling in step beside him, “you don’t happen to be the same person as Spangle Birrim, do you?” Ed stopped, gave her a good look, then indulged in a full-body chuckle. “You look a little young to know that name.” “Me, maybe, but I’m friends with Von Praegar.” “Von?” A hand fluttered to his breastbone. “That old fucker’s still kicking? Where’s he at now?”

Nicea taglist: @kahvilahuhut @kk7-rbs @outpost51 @writernopal @athenswrites

#c: Isabel #c: Tatya #c: Spinder #c: Rodney #c: Tristan #c: Fay #wip: nicea #roy g biv tag #tag games #rose writ

[realpokelypse]

sohan tewari -- 4

Is he hot?

“…One sec.” Zoey glances back over at you from the counter. Your hands are clasped tight together in your lap, sitting pretty on their sofa. It was somewhat of a laundry basket when you got here, but Zoey cleaned it up for you. You don’t mind. She eyes you, squinting.

“Yeah, I’d say so. In a Rockruff-y kind of way. Why, you got dinner plans? It’s a joooke! Calm down, Hot Rod. Yeah, right.”

You wince. This conversation is excruciating to listen in on. Especially without context. “Zoe,” you whisper. “What’s he saying?”

She puts a hand over the mic. “How tall are you?”

“Five-eleven. Six with shoes?” You’re a little confused. Maybe this is a good sign. You sit tight.

She nods. “Six foot.” … “Woooooooow. Wow. Wooow.” … “Aight. Seeya buster.” She stuffs her phone back inside her pocket, turning back to you. “He’ll be back in ten.”

“Ten minutes?” You hear your voice go up an octave.

“Just about! Make yourself at home. Don’t steal shit. I’ll be round the corner, boss!” She salutes you in a sub-ironic tone, pulling herself back around the staircase to what must be her room.

Alright. Ten minutes. It’s time to rehearse again.

— — — — —

You hear keys jostling at the door. Oh, Arceus. You feel something catch in your throat. You should hide. You should hide? No! No, you’re not hiding. That would be stupid. He would find you easily. And he knows you’re here already. That’s why he’s here. To see you.

The door opens.

Enter Rodney Meng.

He’s shorter than you imagined, despite knowing exactly how tall he is. 5’5”. Long hair for a guy, not as long as yours, that curtains black around the sides of his head. His face is heavyset, his skin a warm and comforting tone. Little lines crease beneath his eyelids that pull his expression together, hidden behind rectangular glasses.

Over his eyebrows are two little growths on his head, extending upwards. You wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know what to look for, hidden underneath his hair. They’re tipped in a pale, grape-skin green.

“…What’re you staring at?” he asks you in a stoical sense. There’s doubt sewn in his voice, a low thin voice.

“Right! Hi. Sorry. Hi.” You need to snap out of it. He hangs his keys on a hook next to the door, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

He’s quieter than you thought he’d be.

Rodney, wiping his hands on his shorts, walks into the room. The room with you in it. Now, the room with both you and him at the same time.

“So?”

“So…?”

“You made me come all the way here. What do you want?”

You take a deep breath. You know what to say.

#choose your own adventure #pokemon #realpokemon #cyoa #sohan tewari #rodney meng

[trainofcommand]

Well, it's rainy outside and kind of cold and that means it's time for some uplifting picspam. So here are some pictures of Kavan Smith that make me think of Stargate fic ideas or AUs and stuff.

Let's start with this one. Evan Lorne (sporting his trademark 'hands on my hips and looking a bit stern' stance - which, surprise! I love) learns that even when he's not on Atlantis - when he's taking some leave in a quiet cabin! - he's still going to have to mobilize his whole 'seriously?' look . Because he signed up for a quiet week away from water and nonsense, and what has shown up on the doorstep of his rented cabin? Some nonsense. It involves General O'Neill, who wants to talk about fishing. "There aren't any lakes nearby, sir," Lorne tells him. Jack just waves that away. Fishing is a state of mind. Also, he needs to hide out for a while. He's sure Lorne understands (Lorne does not).

Wait, wait. Or what about if this is an AU where Evan Lorne (not in the USAF) is staying in his family cabin after...I don't know some kind of shock...and one morning there's this guy bleeding all over his porch, and he looks like he's been through the wars (but what wars?) and needs some help even though he's remarkably close-mouthed about how he got in this state (bloody, bruised, one arm hanging weird, etc) and after Evan's cleaned him up a bit and put that arm in a sling and given him some water, the guy pushes himself up from a chair, and sways on his feet a bit and says, "Thanks, I'm just gonna--" and he waves in the direction of the door and Evan pulls out the hands-on-hips-stern look and is like, "Nope." And the guy looks like he's going try it anyway, even though he can barely stand. Evan puts The Look into full force, and the guy sits back down. Later, when he's passed out on Evan's couch, Evan looks through his coat pockets (bloody coat) and finds some kind of ID that says Sheppard, John, with a logo he doesn't recognize. It's going to be interesting when the guy wakes up.

This one says 'Evan Lorne werewolf AU' to me. Just a werewolf who likes to hang around with his arms crossed, looking intense and thinking about chasing things down. Maybe he's in the SGC. Maybe he isn't. Maybe he lives in a little town on the edge of a massive forest, a quiet and unremarkable life (except for the whole claws/fangs/wolfy thing, but still, it's quiet) until one day he finds some dude half-dead on the edge of the forest, and whelp, there I go again thinking about the whole 'isolated werewolf/guy running from his terrible past understated romance' thing.

This one is just dirtbag!Lorne and that's all there is to it, and I thank @dedkake for making it. Also, tongue blep is appealing.

Post-Atlantis, Lorne is having a rough go of it and is taking some leave time. He's at a loss. Who is he when he's not XO to the least predictable CO in two galaxies? It's a big adjustment. So he's trying out cooking and romantic dinners and the like, and also the whole beard thing. He's not sure it's working for him. Though he does like the plaid. It's comfortable. It's cozy. And Rodney will eat anything Evan puts in front of his face.

(A couple of weeks later, Evan says, "I'm going to shave," and, "I got a call from the SGC." And Rodney is glad, because Evan's cooking is great, it really is, but Rodney can't just eat all day long, he's got work to do).

This one makes me think of farmers' market AU. Every time. He looks so young. Fresh-faced! Like a farmer or a painter, or guy who likes to be outside all the time, wearing sensible shirts and smouldering a little.

This one is small but amazing. He looks like a smouldering spy or maybe a devious corporate dude or something. I don't know. AU where Evan Lorne doesn't go into the military but instead gets recruited by the CIA or whatever, and has the cover of corporate mogul in some kind of energy-generating company that allows him to travel around the world easily and also hook up with guys like Radek Zelenka on joint US-EU missions, and then one time they meet up with Rodney McKay (PhD, PhD; CSIS operative) and there are some shenanigans and Elizabeth Weir is their slick diplomat contact. Look, I don't know anything about how the CIA and CSIS work, but it's fun to think about some spy hijinks and like, nice suits and stuff.

Also, bonus image not of Kavan Smith - Radek Zelenka, EU partner in superspy AU. Looking very slick there, Radek!! I like it. (This stance says, "Are you looking for some fun, CIA superspy Evan Lorne?" The answer, of course, is yes.)

(I don't even know where I found most of these images, so if I missed crediting you for something, please let me know and I'll add it).

#kavan smith #major evan lorne #radek zelenka #david nykl #stargate atlantis #picspam #sometimes I just like thinking about AUs

[itstartedwithalex]

it could’ve started like this: a mcshep get-together per episode

s2e20: Allies | twenty-four-seven, t, (2m 37s)

“I told you Elizabeth would agree with me,” Rodney says over his shoulder, busy with the pockets of his tac vest.

“And I told you I wouldn’t argue if she did,” John says, leaning in the doorway. He curls his hands into his jacket to stop himself from just reaching out.

read it on ao3 | listen on ao3 | full series on Tumblr

fic and art by @dedkake. Podlet recorded for the SGA fanart only server second birthday bash

#SGA fanart only server birthday bash #s2 it could've started like this #my podfic #stargate atlantis #podfic

[thomasshelbydrabbles]

Everything’s a Negotiation (Part 2/?)

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x OC

Warnings: series typical violence, language, sexual situations

Summary: Mackenzie receives multiple offers from the officers of the Shelby Brothers Company Limited.

Word Count: 3075

A/N: Here’s another bit. Let me know what you think and if you want added to the tag list.

Mac stood at the window overlooking the city. It had taken her a lot to get to where she was today, and she’d promised herself to never take her success for granted. She knew how easily it could all disappear. It was why when she’d briefly considered taking a personal day when she’d awoken with dry eyes, a rats nest for hair, and a headache that made her wish she were hungover, she’d forced herself into the shower and then to the office. Zeus laid on the couch on the opposite wall. The thought of leaving him at home this morning never crossed her mind.

The phone on her desk buzzed, and again, she wanted to ignore it. She had a clear calendar for most of the morning, but with a shake of her head she crossed to the desk and answered. 

“You’ve got a walk-in, but he’s willing to wait or make an appointment if you don’t have time now.” 

Mac pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, it’s alright. Send him in.” 

Zeus perked up as he heard the knock on the door. 

Thomas Shelby strode into the room wearing another three piece suit and peaked cap. Before she could utter a command, Zeus jumped from the couch, dashed to where he stood and jumped up, trying to lick Tommy’s face. Tommy scratched between his ears before uttering Sitz. In awe, she watched Zeus do as he was told.

“Looks like you’ve made a friend.” 

“I’ve a way with animals,” he glanced up at her, mirth dancing in his eyes. “It’s the Gypsy in me.” 

“Since I doubt Zeus is the reason you stopped by my office, what is it I can do for you, Mister Shelby.” 

He took off his hat and gloves, shoving both into his coat pockets before glancing up at her. 

“Tommy. After last night, I think we’re a bit past the formalities, eh?” 

She blushed like a schoolgirl and hated herself a bit for it. What was it about this man? 

“Very well, what can I do for you, Tommy?”

“I’ve come to discuss business.” 

“I appreciate what you did for me last night, truly. Don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to Zeus. He would have shot him, too. That’s the only reason I called him off. He’s a good dog, don’t deserve to die from a bullet shot by a fucking cunt of a coward. Knew he wouldn’t kill me, right? No point in it. I’m the golden goose, and he was going to serve me right up. Use the gun to get me into his car, or mine - drive me right to you or some other nefarious type he’d made a deal with, maybe someone less inclined to be polite about it all.” 

Mac heard the words streaming out of her mouth, felt her heart rate increase as they came out more rapidly. She couldn’t stop though, not the words, not the pace, not the frantic way her heart pounded in her chest, the way the air seemed too thin in the office, as though it was being sucked out and there was none left for her. 

“Who kills a dog? But, he would have. And Zeus wouldn’t have let go, see, so you would have come inside and seen Zeus’ teeth still buried in Rodney’s arm, but he’d be dead, so he’d just be hanging there, maybe the force of the shot would have taken them both to the ground, but what would be the point because he’d be dead - ”

“Mackenzie!”

Warm hands on her cheeks startled her out of her spiral. When had he crossed the room? How had he closed the distance between them without her noticing? She felt his thumbs wipe the tears from her cheeks. God, she didn’t even know when she’d begun crying. Perhaps she should have taken that personal day. Distantly, she heard Zeus whine, felt his bulk leaning against her legs.

“Breathe with me, love,” Tommy’s voice was quiet, soothing. “Look at me.” 

Blinking rapidly, Mac glanced up. Tommy took one of her hands in his, placed it against his chest. She could feel the finely woven material of his vest, the heat of him, the beating of his heart. 

“That’s it. Listen to me voice and breathe when I do, right?” 

She did as he instructed, felt his chest move in and out, forced hers to do the same. 

“There’s a good girl, keep breathing with me.” 

They could have been standing there for hours or minutes, but eventually she felt herself calm. Tommy’s hands slid around her back, pulling her all to willing body against his. His body was like a furnace, warm, safe. He held her as though he had nothing more important to do, as though he could stay in that moment forever. 

She shook her head to clear the last of the fog from it. Taking a step back from him, feeling his warmth leave her, she bent down to sink her fingers into Zeus’ fur. What an idiot she must look like. Mac forced herself to stand firm, not to throw herself back into his arms. 

“Thanks.” 

He inclined his head. 

“You wanted to discuss business, but I’ve already given you my answer.” 

“I’m here to renegotiate.” 

“My display last night and this morning might have given you the wrong impression about me, but Stronghold is a fairly successful security firm. Granted, I do rely a bit too heavily on digital security, which after last night I will need to reassess - thanks, by the way, for the new door. And sneaky of you slipping the new key on last night when you dropped me off.” Mac paused, tilted her head. “I know exactly why Rodney offered my services to you.”

She moved back to the window and pointed across the street. “See, if I ran that cafe down there, I doubt you would have been so keen to accept Rodney’s offer no matter how famous the Bakewell tarts are.”

He had that same damn smirk on his face as he leaned against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Me younger brother, Finn, he enjoys a Bakewell tart.” 

Mac chuckled and shook her head. “I know what you do, Tommy. I know what type of business a man like you operates.” 

“Ran a background check on me, eh?” 

“As soon as you left the office, I pulled up everything I could find. You’re a dangerous man with an interesting portfolio of business.”

“Then you know exactly why I want your services.” 

She crossed her arms. “That’s not what you wanted from me last night.” 

Why had she said that? 

Tommy crossed the room in quick steps. He braced his hands on the window on either side of her head, effectively boxing her in. She swallowed thickly as his cerulean eyes snared her again. 

“I still want that, love. Been thinking about bendin’ you over that desk, flippin’ your skirt up and fuckin’ you. Wanna hear your voice shout me name as I make you come on my cock.” 

“Oh.” 

He chuckled darkly at her reply. Her mind was filled with nothing but white noise. Then she felt his nose along her neck, felt the faintest press of his lips to her skin. 

“Smell bloody amazing.” 

“Tommy - ”

He pulled back. She noted his dilated pupils, the way his breath wasn’t quite even. Knowing she affected him made her feel a bit smug, especially because he utterly destroyed her, kept her completely unbalanced. 

“Work for me, Mackenzie.” 

“You’re a liability.” 

“I’m a businessman who could provide access to other businessmen with interestin’ portfolios.” 

“I know something about those other businessmen. I run a security company, and you’re too big a risk. You’re just as likely to make friends as you are enemies. Some of your friends are, have been, and likely will be your enemies…again. I can’t take on your business and then take on the business of someone you’re doing work with because when one or both of you decides to go to war, I’m caught in the middle, knowing too much for either party to be completely comfortable.” 

Mac took a breath and walked over to where Zeus had settled himself on the couch. Sitting next to him, she scratched behind his ears. 

“I know that look,” she said, watching Tommy pull a cigarette from his pocket. “You’re going to assure me there won’t be a war, but I know that look in your eye. Man like you gets bored easily, so you like war because it keeps your mind occupied. Then you’ll tell me, or even better, you’ll promise me that I won’t be caught in the middle. Or that you’ll protect me. Use last night as an example of your expert protection skills.” 

“Got me all figured out then ‘ave you?” 

She smiled at him. “Wouldn’t be very good at my job if I didn’t have a decent start at it.” 

“Go out with me.”

“What?”

It was like whiplash keeping up with this man. She’d always been good at solving puzzles, and filling in the missing pieces, but every time she thought Tommy would zig, he’d zag and she wasn’t prepared for it. 

“Friday.” 

“I haven’t said yes.” 

Tommy rolled the unlit cigarette along his bottom lip. He pointed at her with it as he moved towards the door. One hand on the knob, he glanced at her from over his shoulder. 

“I’ll pick you up at 8.” 

 Mac didn’t hear anything from any Shelby for the next twenty-four hours, and she allowed herself to believe she wasn’t a little disappointed about it. Not that Tommy had been too far from her mind. No. She continued to run various searches on the Shelby family and their known associates. Just as she’d suspected with her initial background run, he was a ruthless businessman in both his legal and less legal dealings. He’d been in business with Alfie Solomons, Darby Sabini - betrayed them both, gone back to work with Solomons. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she closed her laptop and pushed back from the desk. Standing at the window, she glanced down at the cafe. Maybe she could change her career. Reinvent herself and move back to the States, put the charm of London behind her. 

With a sigh, she moved back to her desk. She wouldn’t leave; it would feel too much like giving up. The knock on her door caught her off guard. Looking down at the clock on her desk, she muttered a curse under her breath. So caught up in her wayward thoughts, she was completely unprepared for her two-o’clock appointment. 

Smoothing down her skirt as she moved to the door, Mac reminded herself that she was a goddamned professional and opened the door with a bright smile on her face. 

“Hi, please come in.” 

Her two-o’clock smiled at her, and she swore there was something familiar about the look of his face, the cut of his suit. Shaking it off, she rounded her desk and took a seat at her desk. Opening her laptop as he situated him across from her, she quickly glanced through the notes she’d prepared for this meeting. 

“Hi, Mr. Gray. Welcome to Stronghold. Can I offer you a coffee or tea before we get started?” 

There. She could be a professional. 

He flashed a smile at her and she had to blink to dissipate the overlay of Tommy’s face that came to her mind. Maybe she should have let him fuck her over her desk, then she get him out of her system. She frowned at the thought, not sure she wanted him completely out of her system. Focus. Damnit. 

“Tea would be lovely, thanks. And please, call me Michael.” 

Pressing the intercom on her phone, she waited for Katie to answer.

“Yes, Miss Theil?”

“Hi Katie, can I please get a cup of tea for Mr. Gray and I could use another coffee while you’re at it, thanks.”

“Be right in with that.” 

Mac pulled a notebook and pen in front of her and looked up at her potential client. 

“While we wait, Michael, why don’t you tell me a bit about the company, the needs, and any budgetary concerns you might have. We personalize all of our services here to best meet the needs of each client we sign on.” 

“‘Course.” He pulled a file from his briefcase and handed it to her. 

Taking it from him, Mac felt her eyes grow comically wide as she took in the company name in bold font on the front page. Glancing up at Michael Gray, she noted a familiar grin tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

Before she could say anything, Katie came in with their drinks. She forced a smile as her assistant placed a fresh mug of coffee on her desk, and - not for the first time this week - she wished she kept a bottle of something strong in her desk. When the door clicked closed, she pushed away from the desk and stood to her feet. 

“I’ve already given Mister Shelby my answer.” 

“Didn’t even read the offer.” 

Lips pursed, she glanced at him. He hadn’t moved, and from the way he’d settled himself into the chair, he had no intention to leave. 

“Gray your actual last name, or did you make it up to get an appointment?” 

A full grin split his face. “Why would I lie about me name?” 

“You’re a Shelby.” 

“Cousin.” 

“Ah.”

“Hear me out, alright? Before you throw me out on my arse.” 

She felt her shoulders slump. If she asked him to leave now, she had a strong feeling that he’d be back. Or one of the other brothers, or another cousin. Given what she’d learned about the family, it wouldn’t at all surprise her if Tommy filled her entire schedule with brothers, cousins, friends until she capitulated. She sat back down.

“Outlined in there,” Michael gestured towards the folder. “Is a business offer that would have any other security firm creamin’ their pants to sign. As you might have gathered, Tommy’s not used to havin’ someone tell ‘im no.” 

“Being told no is character building.” 

Michael laughed. “See why he likes you.” 

Mac took a gulp of her coffee, pretended it didn’t scald her. Fuck, it was hot. 

“I understand you have some reservations about our business operations and the impact it would have on your firm’s reputation and current client base.” 

It was Mac’s turn to smirk. “Ah. You’re the good cop.” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“The brothers came into my office like a deleted scene from The Godfather and when that didn’t work, they send in their consigliare to make nice. Deal of this size would take approval from all the officers, and the CFO - ” she looked at him meaningfully. “Would likely have the most to say given the financial impacts.” 

“Fuck Tommy, I like you, Miss Theil.” 

“Mac.” 

Her correction was automatic, and even as she said it, she remained unsure as to why she’d invited him to address her so informally. Never one to stand on ceremony, she often had people address her by her first name. Katie insisted on Miss Theil because it sounded more professional. Rubbish, but it made Katie happy, so she’d stopped fighting that battle months ago. 

“I’ll be honest, Mac. I didn’t want this deal. When Tommy first brought it to me, I thought he was mad or drunk. We don’t take payment like that, especially not from women. Rodney Bouchard’s a fuckin’ cunt. It would be stupid to have the company further involved with his family, right? Then, I looked into your company. You’ve an impressive background for an American.” 

Mac flipped him off. 

Michael laughed. 

“Oh my god,” Mac exclaimed, dropping her hand. 

“That was fuckin’ brilliant, sweetheart, don’t be apologizin’.”

“It was unprofessional.”

Michael stopped laughing, looked at her with the most serious look she’d seen on his face since he’d walked through her door. 

“It was honest.” 

She nodded. 

“Look at page five.” 

Flipping through the pages, she stopped on page five and read through the impressive listing of businesses and holdings. 

“Now, page ten.” 

The number on the page had to be a joke. No way anyone would pay that for what her company did.

“You’re insane.” 

“We pay a good price for a good product.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Should be enough to cover any concerns you might have about doin’ business with Shelby Brothers Limited.”

“It’s not what’s listed that I have concerns about.” 

“We’d only expect you to work with the businesses listed.” 

Mac nodded. “Just me knowing you have business that aren’t listed is a security risk, something easily exploitable by…competitors.” 

“For what we’d pay you,” Michael said with a wink. “We’d expect you to sort all that out before it became a problem.” 

“I’m not fucking omniscient.” 

“I’ve a second proposal prepared for you, one that lists all of the Company’s assets complete with a new number adjusted for the increase in workload.” 

“What you already gave me would require a dedicated team, full time.” 

Michael raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t do exclusive contracts.” 

Michael pulled the second contract from his briefcase and slid it across her desk. Mac glared down at it as though she could light it on fire with her eyes. 

“Look it over. I understand why you have reservations ‘bout working for us, but Tommy takes the safety of his employees seriously. He’d protect you.”

Mac chuckled. “There it is.” 

“Wot?”

“Told Tommy not two days ago that he’d make some sort of offer about protecting me.” Mac paused. “There it is.” 

“We make better friends than we do enemies.” 

Mac narrowed her eyes. “Are you threatening me?”

“Absolutely not. Tommy’d bloody well hang me by me balls if I did. What I’m sayin’ is our enemies know how powerful we are. You’d be safe.” 

Flashes of the Rodney holding a gun to Zeus’ head flashed behind her eyes. They couldn't even properly protect her from her own family. No. This was madness. Nothing good would come from taking either of the offers on her desk, no matter how tempting they were. 

“Think about it, Mac.” 

Michael stood from the chair and headed for the door. He paused, glanced over his shoulder with a smirk on his face. “Enjoy your date with Tommy.” 

“Fuck me.”

Part 3

Master List

Tag List: @allie131313

#tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby #Tommy Shelby #michael gray

[fuck-customers]

This fucking guy.

The dude is one of those grumpy old men that you can tell is gonna be a problem from like 10 feet away.

Hes at my reg and I tell him the total and shit and then he holds out this mound of coins in one hand. Just one hand. So as im picking out whatever change I need, dimes and shit are falling and he YELLS "careful with my money!!!"

Bruh. I try to be understanding when I have to help people with coins. Its confusing and I've traveled to various countries, I get it. But this dude was RUDE so I was not having it.

So I mostly finish picking out what I need and a bunch falls on the floor. "I said CAREFUL WITH MY MONEU" He scoffs, puts the mound back in his pocket, tells me to get it from the floor. Like. My dude. I gotta come around from the register to get YOUR change.

He doesn't wait for the receipt or anything just storms off.

How did he know that there was enough on the floor? Unless he knew what the coins were? So maybe he was just being a dick.

But as he leaves and I pick up the change (it's about 5c over but whatever, im not telling him that) i say loudly I hope you have the day you deserve! With a big ass grin on my face.

The lady in line behind him was CACKLING. She said I handled it well and he was an asshat. And she used to be a barista so she understands. And the dude had cut in line in front of her too, so he was just rude to everyone he came in contact with.

Fuck off dude.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[spurious]

🎶 Share a song you associate with this fic for counterfeit Florida plates!!

WIP Wednesday: Sensory Edition!

OKAY WELL. I posted this literally as the ask arrived lmao so! Instead I put the song on repeat and wrote for about five minutes! This is one of the more clear ideas I have for this fic so it wrote pretty easily.

Once he's determined that he's neither hallucinating or in immediate danger, Rodney finds a picnic table in a nearby park and lays out everything that he has on his person. He's not wearing his tac vest, which is probably for the best, since it would make blending in a bit harder than it's already feeling. He does have a backpack. He's wearing a t-shirt, BDUs, boots, thigh holster with his sidearm, and his wedding band—the silicone one he wears when he's off-world or working, because Rodney spends way too much time with his hands in the guts of Ancient machinery not to worry about wearing the gold one. Realizing that he has no ID or, for that matter, permit for the firearm, Rodney takes off his holster, tucks the whole thing into the front pocket of the backpack, and feels immediately more exposed. Inside the backpack are six powerbars, one set of clean clothes, two spare clips, a portable battery for his laptop (which is, of course, attached to the console of the machine that sent him here), three pens, a small toolkit, and a spare tablet.

ANYWAY you can also just. send a different prompt if you want obviously!!

#wip wednesday #fic rambles #in truth idk what will happen with this because it requires like. #something of a uh. plot? #and i don't do well with plot lmao

[hero-in-waiting]

Ask promp: Mclorne, and

“Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?"

“Fuck you’re hot.”

The room went silent, and everyone turned to stare at him, and for the first time since he was sixteen he felt himself blush. He could see Sheppard watching him in amusement, and Ronon and Teyla were both trying not to smile. He opened his mouth and closed it again, trying to figure out how to get himself out of the hole he had dug himself into, and if he could get through this without dying from embarrassment.

But the stunned blue eyes told him he wouldn’t be getting away with it that easily.

Evan shifted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Can we pretend I didn’t say that?” he asked, meeting Rodney’s eyes.

Rodney frowned slightly. “I…uh…well you might be able to but I’m not going to anytime soon.”

“John, Ronon. Can I talk to you outside?”

IT was as subtle as a battering ram as Teyla ushered the other two out of the room, and Evan could see Sheppard giving him a warning look right before the flap to the tent closed, leaving him with Rodney, half dressed in some local ceremonial leather vest that showed off his arms and made his shoulders even wider.

Evan wanted to climb him like a tree.

“Did you mean it?” Rodney asked, crossing his arms over his chest and making his biceps bulge.

“Uh…yes,” Evan said, feeling sixteen years old again.

“Oh.”

They stood in awkward silence for a moment before Rodney lifted his chin and stared at Rodney. “You’re hot too, and I don’t want to pretend you didn’t say that.”

Evan stared for a moment, before he grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Now let’s go, sooner we get through this stupid thing the sooner we can be back home and go on a date.”

For a second Evan though about teasing Rodney, but he could see worried glance and he settled for nodding. “It’s a date,” he said, ushering Rodney out in front of him.

Because it was his job to help protect the other man.

And had nothing to do with the ceremonial leather pants at all.

#ask meme #tumblr fic #my writing #evan/rodney #mclorne #rodney mckay #evan lorne

[frankthesnek]

🗣️🗣️🗣️ no less cocky no less neurotic or honeypot au (or both)

Hi anon and thank you! (Sorry it took a minute to respond 😅) I'm interpreting this as being dailogue! I love me some good dailogue. So let's see...

No less cocky, No Less Neurotic is my Vegas!Rodney/Rodney fic. There are actually a lot of dailogue moments from it I quite like! Rodney does not really like McKay and they get into a couple little spats which I find very cute.

"We are the smartest men in this galaxy. If there was a way to make it go faster we would have seen it."

"Oh, so there's a 'we' now?" Rodney snipped rounding on the other man. He was standing just inside the doorway to the lab. Posture straight and with that fucking air of superiority, hands casually in his front pockets. What was with that? Some kind of tick or something? "I'm amazed you could take five seconds to actually acknowledge my existence in this universe," he continued, crossing his arms in an attempt to stand his ground.

Honeypot AU? Oh boy, there are soooo many moments to choose from. Let's go with something more light hearted! At one point, John has to be fitted for a suit and is stuck at the shop with Cadman and Teyla. I found the scene very fun to write. The whole thing is meant to be a touch of comic relief for the fic which I struggle with at times but do think it flows nicely.

“I’m not arm candy!” John protested.

“Oh please! You're kidding me, right? Why do you think he’s taking you?”

“Becasue,” John started to respond as he opened the curtain and returned to the small fitting stage. “You can’t go, and he needs an assistant in case anything comes up.”

Laura and Teyla exchanged looks but said nothing.

“What?” John demanded, giving them both a speculative look.

“If that’s what he told you I’m not gonna argue,” Laura said, holding up her hands.

#asks #amswers #anonymous #fic writing #writblr #🍯🍯🍯 #McShep

[nimuetheseawitch]

WIP Wednesday!!!

🪓🔙🍦

Oh man, I love these. They are exciting.

🪓For this I'm pulling from a WIP that I haven't worked on in months, but that I do plan on getting back to. Although apparently I haven't written the wood-chopping scene that I thought I had, so maybe I should write that, since it's in my brain. John Here's a snippet from Rodney McKay Goes to Maine:

He waits until he hears the shower start up before leaning and hitting his head a few times against the opposite wall. He’s not sure he ever wanted to see Rodney again, but now he’s here, in his cabin in the middle of nowhere in Maine, in his fucking shower. 

🔙For this, you're getting a flashback from the same WIP that I haven't touched in ages (the whole thing is mapped out and has a series of flashbacks throughout):

“Whatever possessed you to start listening to country music? I know you were subjected to the same 80s pop and rock that I was. Is it that they sing about cars?” “Well, I think it was when my wife left me, and she took the truck and the dog.” John was smirking as if it were one big joke, but Rodney noticed his hands tighten on the steering wheel. Rodney tried to break the tension, “You, Mr. football, ferris wheels, and fast cars, had a truck? What for?” John eased up on the steering wheel and drawled, “Well, the dog liked it.”

🍦I am going to interpret this as being about the cold. And like all good noir, my noir!Rodney story starts on a rainy, cold night, and we meet a tall, dark-haired stranger inappropriately dressed for the weather:

“You gotta light?” Rodney hid his startlement with a disapproving frown. He took quick stock of the man taking cover in the darkened doorway next to Teyla’s. Even with this rain, he wasn’t wearing a hat or jacket, but the shoulders of his suit were only damp, and his shock of messy black hair wasn’t slicked to his forehead as you’d expect. Teyla didn’t allow smoking in her club, which was actually one of the reasons Rodney had started drinking there, even before he’d become friends with the owner. The man must be desperate for a smoke if he was huddling out here. “Hey buddy, did you have a light, or do I have to go back inside and find my coat?” Rodney ducked his head, hiding his blush in the motion of looking through his pockets. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring.

#wip wednesday #obviously this works because it has me dragging up old wips and wanting to work on them...