#diesel is kind of an idiot

[duskstargazer]

Heavily inspired by Pistons&Gears Inc's Traintober post

[1957]

One lone shunting diesel purred slowly into a yard. Trucks lined the sidings, murmuring and chuckling as he approached.

“Good moorrrning…” oozed an oily voice. “Pleased to meet you, Duck.”

The diesel’s eye twitched.

“Is that James? And Henry? And Gordon, too?” Sneered a second, much higher voice. “I am delighted to meet such famous engines.”

Diesel’s jaw hardened, both at the blatant mockery, and the mentions of a certain painfully brightly colored region.

“Hey, that was pretty good! Though I kinda figure Diesel would have a lower tone than that.”

“I don’t have the range for that. I can’t get my voice as low as you can.”

“What are you idiots doing?” Diesel finally lost what little patience he ever had, and rolled up alongside the two shunters - identical to him in every way except face and number.

“We’re practicing our ‘Devious Diesel’ impressions!” The two chorused in their horrible attempts of deep, scheming voices.

It was all Diesel could do not to snap. Was that what they thought of him? How was he the villain in all this?? Utterly ridiculous. It was all that damn pannier tank and his tricks. If not for him, Diesel would still be on Sodor, milling with the famous engines.

“I can’t say I’m familiar.” Diesel lied, trying to sound unimpressed.

“You aren’t familiar with the great works of Wilbert Awdry?” One shunter asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

Diesel tensed again. “I think I’ve heard of a children’s author by that name.” He put emphasis on ‘children’s author’ in an attempt to display his lack of interest in the subject matter.

“Oh. Well, he just introduced an engine based on one of us! He’s this really neat villain character who has this huge rivalry with-”

Diesel growled, and rolled away, having had more than enough of the “conversation”.

[nexysworld]

Summary: Toji is returned to you, beat up after a job, he comforts you the best way he knows how. Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Face Riding/Sitting, Fem Receiving Oral, Light mentions of being injured, Hurt Comfort. Happy ending, drabble. WC: 1.1K

Read on AO3 || Ask Box

A/N: This is a quick one dedicated to one of the best people I know @dollfacefantasy. Thank you to @gigabyte-flare, @explorevenus, @kaitkatme and @d10nyx for beta reading.

Toji had always refused to tell you what he really did for a living, and while it didn’t take a genius to know it was less-than-legal, you never thought that it would end with him hurt so badly. He was a tank of a man, and you always assumed that meant he was impenetrable. 

If only.

Lying there covered from the neck down in bandages, he still managed to look handsome. Eyes closed, his pointed features relaxed as he snored lightly, chest rising with the even rhythm of his breathing. “Idiot.” You said, reaching out to touch his cheek. It was the first time you’d touched him in hours. When Shiu had dumped him back at your shared apartment, you were scared he’d shatter under your fingertips. “Good mornin’ to you too, Mamas.” His voice was hoarse and he hadn’t bothered to open his eyes. “How are you feeling?” “Not great. Not the worst I’ve ever been.” The thought of that made your shudder. “ You had me worried so bad, I should’ve killed you myself.” “It’s cute you think you could.” “Shut up.” You leaned down to press your lips to his. “Just, shut up.” “Kiss me again, and I might.” You didn’t waste time, capturing him in another needy kiss. You let your lips linger on his, eyes fluttering shut as you took in the feeling of him. The scar on the corner of his mouth, the slight chappyness of his compared to your soft ones. It was him. It was Toji.

Having pulled back just a few inches, you felt his calloused thumb run over your cheek. “You’re cryin’, Mamas. Did I really scare you that much?” You couldn’t speak, fighting off your tensing face muscles from scrunching up into that childlike ugly cry. “Yeah, you did.” “Let me distract ya then. Been too long without tastin’ my pretty baby.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his suggestion. “Seriously? You can barely sit up, and you’re already talking about getting laid, typical.” “My face is feelin’ cold, figured you could warm it up… wait actually now that I think about it my whole head’s been feelin’ a little cold.” The one arm he could move, reached up to pat the top of his head. You winced as you watched him make the discovery himself. It had been a shocker to you when you first saw it, but those inky blank locks were gone. “Where’s my fuckin’ hair?!” You flinched slightly at his tone. “Shiu said that the sorcerer who did this to you shaved it, like a battle tradition or something. I mean…..it kind of suits you, sexy in a real Vin Diesel kind of way.” You offered, your own words not as confident as you wanted them to be. Really though, he was still handsome to you, he was your man…just now he was your very shiny bald headed man. He narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not finding the amusement or reassurance in your words. “Hop up.” “You really want me to?” “Yeah, need a distraction for myself now.” “If you insist.” You moved from where you were seated, discarding your clothing as quickly as you could. While normally you’d have taken the time to tease him, show off a bit, you both were clearly in a rush to be connected to each other. It was a bit awkward, but you managed to seat yourself over his head without disturbing any of his injuries, a death grip on the headboard kept you “That’s it, Mamas.” He murmured against your thigh. He brought his good hand up to squeeze your thigh to coax you down. Normally there’d be more space for you to see what you’re doing, but with his lack of mobility or real support, you were going in blind. The first time you lowered yourself, your clit bumped his nose, you gasped slightly from the quick flicker of warmth it pulled from you. “Sorry.” You mumbled, lifting yourself up again. This time, you missed again, wet folds coming into contact with the smoothness of his forehead. You almost went to try for a third time until you adjusted slightly and realized it felt good. The expanse of his forehead, including the small wrinkles above his brow bumped against your clit in a way you’d never felt before. 

You closed your eyes and tossed your head back as you tested the waters again, grinding down against his forehead, the lack of hair giving you more room to drag your sensitive bud over. It was similar to how you imagined the feeling of rutting against his abs or thigh, but without the friction of body hair. “Uh, what are ya doin’?” 

The sound of his voice snapped you back to the moment. “Oh god sorry.” Despite your words, your hips moved on their own, wet folds gliding across his head. “You’re nowhere near my mouth, ya know that, right?” “Yeah, yeah….yeah, I know…just god it feels amazing.” You could sense the confusion on his face from the way his brows came together beneath your aching need. “S’okay, right?” “Might blind me with your juices.” He said, though his voice gave clear indicators that he wasn’t sure what was going on still. “I-I can stop.” You rutted down in a circle motion this time, and it was almost enough to send you over your peak.

“Don’t do that. If ya feel good, then ya feel good, can’t take that away from my baby. Just promise to let me get a taste before you hop off.” “D-deal.” You muttered, tossing your head back as you humped his fleshy cueball.”Gonna cum…gonna cum…” You whined, head lolling back, knuckles white and legs shaking as you finally found your desperate release. 

As promised, before sliding off, you pushed yourself as best you could with your jello legs farther down, allowing him the chance to lap at your sensitive wetness. “Fuck, think ya nearly waterboarded me. Can’t even open my eyes.” 

“Sorry…” You said sheepishly, the post nut clarity sinking in and reminding you that shame existed. “Don’t be, meant it as a compliment. You taste just as good as I remember too.”

Sliding off the bed, you reached for your discarded shirt, using it to blot your wetness from his face so he could at least open his eyes. “Another perk, looks like it polished you right up.” You joked, swirling the cottony fabric around his head as if you were doing it to a new bowling ball. 

He rolled his eyes in response, but that huge smile he was known for was painted on his face despite himself. “You owe me a blowjob for that one.” 

[tangerinesilk]

BACK UP PLAN • TANGERINE x FEM!READER

they think you’re the diesel, but you know who took the case. too bad for you that tangerine, a guy from your past, likes to shoot first and ask questions later. as fun as that is, you quickly team up to figure out who took the case and what terrible fate they’ll meet... and of course, rehash your complicated past.

rating ✷ r (18+ only, minors dni!)

tropes ✷ enemies to lovers (but still enemies), pwp, cheeky banter, loud gf/quiet bf, butchered british slang, kind of mr. and mrs. smith energy, two idiots with one task

warnings ✷ cursing, violence being the answer, guns & knives, switch!tan x switch!reader, bathroom sex, fingering, quick p in v, lots of begging, exhibitionism, mention of hands/rings (my kink lmao)

word count ✷ 3.7k

a/n ✷ my first tangerine fic :D just feeding into my fixation and going down the aaron johnson rabbit hole again. wasn't expecting to do some bullet train writing, but..... here it is. there will be no part 2! hope y'all like it and feedback is always welcomed!

Shit was going down and surprisingly, it was not by your doing.

With your back pressed against the wall of the luggage holding, you could only hope the short but thick curtain covered your figure enough that anyone who passed wouldn’t see you. As you attempt to keep your breathing low and quiet, it hitches when you hear the sudden sound of automatic door opening.

“We need to find the cheeky fucker who took our case. Swear to God, I’ll bash his head in when I find him.”

That’s a thick accent you don’t forget. You don’t want to peak, but you can see the West Ham sticker on the back of his phone. 

It can’t be him. No, no…

“Lemon, I’ve gone up and down this train for the umpteenth time. I’m ‘bout ready to shoot any sleazy bellend who looks at me funny.”

Tangerine?

He was the only person you’ve been able to outrun yet here he was, only a few inches away and knowing damn well he would know how to tear into you for what happened in Copenhagen. Long story short, it ended with you tossing his favorite gun into the river and it’s made an even bigger target on your back.

While you do wear a mask that seals your identity during your heists, you prayed he didn’t remember eyes since you lost your only form of disguise when fighting the Prince. Just like you, she uses her looks to her gains, able to manipulate anyone by batting her eyelashes. She was the one with the case, and knowing her past, she’d blame it on someone else and you were most likely high up on the list.

“Alright, then. Let’s keep lookin’ for the bastard.” He said before hanging up.

You cover your mouth, your glare remaining steady on him before he takes a pause. His blue eyes search around the cart, huffing until you hear the other automatic door open. You fully step out of the small luggage spot and catching your breath, “I have to get off here.”

As the next stop was coming to a halt, a force pulled you back into the bathroom from an arm snaking around your waist. You couldn’t even gather your thoughts before feeling a cool metal pressing against your temple.

“Now I can only think of two reasons a girl like yourself is hiding behind a bunch of suitcases. One, she’s got a bit of a dickhead of a boyfriend or two, she’s got my fuckin’ case.”

You smirked, “If I had it, I would have hid better, don’t you think?” You hoped to fool him.

“Oh, darling. You think I’m that stupid, why don’t you just–” He turned you around to look into your eyes, and unfortunately, he had seen them somewhere, “Oi, where have I seen you before?”

“I’ve never met you before in my life, now if you’ll excuse me…” You trailed before he shifted to stand in front of the doorway, placing his gun on the sink counter.

“As much as I’d like to believe that, darling... you’re not going’ anywhere until I get my answer.” He said with an assertive tone, his jaw obviously clenched and his eyes piercing blue.

With his one hand on the trim of the sink and the other against the wall, he towered over you with his tall stance. He acted intimidating but you knew deep down there was hidden softness to his personality. ‘Warmer the closer you got’ type of shit.

Your eyes shifted from his eyes to his chest, hard to not stare with his first button undone and gold chain disappearing into his shirt. Able to display a poker face, Tangerine was still racking his brain around where he had seen those eyes before. He couldn’t place the last time he saw such a color.

I guess what you failed to mention is that something else happened in Copenhagen. To summarize, it involved a skin tight dress, a hotel key card and a getaway plan by dawn. What threw him off now was that you weren’t sporting the same short, auburn wig you sported that night you tried to get his attention.

“How am I supposed to give you an answer that I don’t have? You’re in my way.” You protest.

“And you’re not a very good liar, are ya?” He huffed, “Now, if you don’t have my case then who does?”

Not giving a second more, you pulled out your own gun tucked in the waist of your skirt, pushing it against his bare chest, “I think you better stay out of the way before you really get hurt.”

He didn’t bat an eye, but his eyes took a second glance at the tattoos drawn on the side of your middle finger and the top of your knuckles. Suddenly, he placed those hands from memory and the image of them running down his chest struck his mind. He looked back into your eyes and remembered how they kept steady contact as your tongue glided down his body.

“It’s been a while since Copenhagen, yeah?” He said, clenching his jaw once more.

Shit. Maybe you shouldn’t have doubted him so much.

“Well you’re not fooling me this time.” He grunted, quickly taking your gun while your guard was down for a split second, “I’ll give you one last chance, love. Tell me where the case is and maybe, I’ll be and gentleman and just escort you off at the next stop.”

“So cute how you’re trying to threaten me yet use a pet name. Guess I just know how to get to your soft spot, Tan.” You grinned, placing your hand on his cheek.

Mesmerized, a gloss smooths over his eyes before his phone vibrates in his pants pocket.

“Do you wanna get that or have me reach in there?” You taunted.

He replied with an eye roll, but quickly answered. “Yeah, what?” Tangerine answered, his eyebrow cocked.

A low voice told him that they needed to see proof of the case at the next stop or things could go south. Tangerine quickly hangs up during mid-threat, and you twist your lips.

“Since you can’t find your case, I assume you’re the one getting off at the next station.” You smirked, “Glad we got to catch up.”

“No, no, you little pain in my ass. You’re gonna put on a nice smile for these massive dickheads and stall with me…” He tilted his head a bit, “As far as I know, you know where the case is so I’ll be attached by the hip to you for the rest of the lovely ride to Kyoto.” Tangerine yammered on.

You rolled your eyes but he held your chin, making you look him in the eyes, “I’m sorry, does that bother you now?”

“Hmm, no. Just kind of sweet to know you haven’t forgotten about me.” You purposefully teased, your palm running down his chest before opening another button of his shirt with your one hand. It was a tactic to get under his skin, hoping to get some sort of reaction.

“You’re some tease who left me in Copenhagen, I’ve dealt with shots to the fuckin’ chest. You really think highly of yourself, don't ya.” He deflects but glances at your soft lips. 

You grinned, placing your hand on his cheek, “I don’t think I have to remind you of how low I’ll stoop to get a job done… or kneel.”

Tangerine felt your hand moving through the back of his hair, carding his loose curls before pressing your foreheads together. The tip of your nose brushed against his, your lips barely touching until the train came to a slow stop.

“Well, I guess it’s time to put on a good fucking act.” You huffed, pulling away and Tangerine didn’t realize he forgot to take a breath.

♡ ♡ ♡

He turned around, opening the bathroom door in one swift motion and the two of you stood by the exit. After quickly texting Lemon that he was going to stall, he gives you a look again– this time, his eyes shifting up and down your body, noticing the tear in your stockings. He knew you were up to something, but resisting the urge to press you up against a wall was making him ache a bit.

As the train door opened, Tangerine took a step toward you, “If anything goes down, you get behind me and get back on. Other than that, follow my lead.”

You nodded, “I have limited options… how generous of you.”

The two of you step off the train, and looking around for the men you’re asked to meet. As passengers got on and off, there was a small group that came your way and you stood next to Tangerine as they got closer.

“Where’s the case?” The tall one asked, standing center of the three other men.

“Lemon is keeping it safe right now.”

“Then who’s this?” 

Tangerine glanced at you, shrugging, “I’m a professional, I’ve got my back up… Peach.”

You wanted to narrow your eyes at him with a burning stare, but you maintained your composure to convince them. It was one step closer to getting the case, and it wasn’t the worse operative name.

The four men chuckle at it, and you cross your arms from the reaction, “So, are we done here?” You asked, “We’ve obviously got places to be now since your boss is up our asses about his case.” 

At first, they replied with scowls until Tangerine took a step in front of you, your chest basically touching his back.

“‘Cuse her attitude, it’s been a long night.” Tangerine acted as if he were in charge of you, “But, we’re all good now. The plan is still Kyoto, ta-ra now.” He faked a grin, pushing you toward the door as the alert sounded for boarding.

Before you knew it, the train was moving and the both of you plopped into two empty seats in the quiet car. As you watched Tangerine type out a text to Lemon, you scoffed, crossing your arms as you faced the window out to the city life of Japan.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Well, Lemon still hasn’t found the person with the case… fucker could have gotten off without us knowing.” 

You turned your head, “So, that’s means I’m off the list of the accused?”

“...I just don’t trust you.” He trailed, slipping his phone back into his pants pocket.

“Aw, still a little hurt from our last encounter?” You pouted, “Didn’t take you for such a softie, Tan.”

Tangerine clenched his jaw. He had little patience for your sass, but it was fun to fuck with him. You gently placed your hand on the top of his thigh, hidden under the table, and refused to lose eye contact with him. There were four stops left so, it was time to put a spontaneous plan B into motion: make him let his guard down for you.

You batted your eyelashes, “Tell me, do you still think about our night together? I didn’t mean to leave so quickly, but we had something… yeah?” You taunted him, your hand moving up his thigh. Just as your fingers were going to unbutton his pants, Tangerine quickly grabbed your wrist and put it back on his knee.

“You wanna play games, darling?” He grunted, “Then, I’ll play your game.”

You couldn’t help but admit that your heart beat against your chest, like the air in the cart had been sucked away and before you knew it, his right hand was running up your thigh until he ripped the rest of your stocking. You almost gasped, not wanting to attract attention, but he pulled it enough where your panties were exposed.

“Don’t get shy on me now, love.” Tangerine said under his breath as his hand entering between your legs. Once he pushed the black lace to the side, his two thick fingers entered your slit. The hand you had on his thigh suddenly met the wrist of his hand working your pussy.

His blue eyes softened, feeling how wet you already were and how you tried to restrain from arching your back against the seat. Being in plain light, you bit your bottom lip and concentrated on the scene passing by– obviously, not easy to focus on when Tangerine is gliding his fingers in and out of your wet slit. You could scream, knowing how deep they were from feeling his cool rings against your skin.

“I’d rub your clit, but I’d hate to make you cum right here… in front of everyone.” He looked around, as if he weren’t edging you, “You don’t really deserve to anyways.”

You took one big gulp, your hand gripping the arm rest now and you let him keep going. For as long as he wanted to and however fast he wanted to. As big of a talk you made, you were suddenly puddy in his hands– quite literally– and God, you didn’t want him to stop.

He pressed his lips against your ear, “Are you close?”

“Hmm.” You could barely let out a word, “N-no.”

“Don’t lie to me now so you can cum.” He chuckled.

Just like that, he quickly pulled his hand away and he saw how his fingers were coated in your glistening cum. As he went to place them in his mouth, you pulled his wrist and tasted your own cum on your tongue. 

All he could think was, “Fuck, her tongue is soft…” and reminisce the memory of his dick pushing down your throat.

You kissed his fingers before setting his hand back on his lap, and he watched you pant. Such a beautiful mess, he thought again.

Pushing your skirt back down, you crossed your legs as you ran your fingers through your hair. “You fucking ripped my nice tights…” You huffed, pulling the band from the waist and pulling them down your legs. You balled them up as you put your shoes back on, and stuffed them between the wall of the train and the seat.

You blew a breath past your lips, “Alright, that was fun but I gotta go.” You gulped, attempting to get up but he pushed your leg back down so you basically say back down.

“You’re stayin’ right here.” He said, not looking at you but around the cart, “Because the next stop, you’re gettin’ off… not like how you did right now but-”

You cut him off, “What?” You scoffed, your cheeks feeling heated, “No, I’m not getting off this train until I have the case!”

You didn’t mean to spill your own secret, but your guard had been put down. Shit.

He smirked, “See, I knew you had somethin’ to do with the case. Now you’re definitely gettin’ off at the next stop or I’ll-”

Cut off again, he sees Lemon walking down, also without the case in hand, and Tangerine quickly gets up. He met him halfway in the aisle, so you got up to see what was going on and if it was about the case.

“Who’s this? Looks familiar…” Lemon trailed as he pointed at you, then back at Tangerine.

“She’s no one-”

“Actually we passed each other in Copenhagen. You called me an Emily.” You grinned, tilting your head.

“Ah, yes. Emily, very kind but a tad bossy…” Lemon nodded but then narrowed his eyes, “Lookin’ for the case too, yeah?... unless you have it and we’re runnin’ around like headless chickens.” You could see his hand reaching into his jacket.

“I wish. Trust me…” You crossed your arms.

“Yeah, and she was just leaving on the next stop. No business being around here, muckin’ about.” Tangerine said without looking at you again, just making eye contact with Lemon.

“You treat me like I’m incompetent yet I beat both your asses back in Copenhagen and managed to steal the getaway car. Why don’t you two leave and let me handle whoever has the case.” You shoved past Tangerine, “Fucking amateurs.” You muttered under your breath.

Lemon turned around, Tangerine behind him, “She’s definitely is an Emily.”

Tangerine rolled his eyes, “I’ll go get take care of her. You check back down that way.” He clenched his jaw, pushing back his rolled sleeves.

♡ ♡ ♡

The door opened to the first class cart, already imagining your hands wrapped around the Prince’s neck once you had an eye on her. Dim orange lights lit your way, a few people asleep with blankets on top of them. 

Just as you came close to the lounge toward the end, a hand gripped your wrist. Before asking any questions, your other hand quickly swung down on the other’s wrist, thinking it was the Prince, but you were met with another set of bright eyes.

“Let go of me.” You muttered under your breath, not trying to get anyone’s attention.

Like deja vu, Tangerine pulled you into the bathroom and locked the door. It wasn’t as tight as the other passenger bathroom, but still had little room to move around with two people.

“Do I gotta tell you again?” Tan practically growled.

“You can’t tell me what to do. What do you want from me that you keep cornering me like this?” Your tone matched his.

He took a deep breath through his nostrils, and suddenly felt the tension. He couldn’t take his eyes from you, never admitting that he had been thinning about you since Copenhagen, so instead his lips met yours.

You weren’t surprised, but you missed his lips. You bit his bottom lip, your body relaxing as you fell into his arms. Your noses brushed together, foreheads close before you unbuttoned his shirt, your hands meeting his soft skin. It slipped past his toned arms, and he pressed your hips against the sink counter.

As you lifted your leg by his side, he put his hand underneath your knee to keep it high. Tangerine kissed and nipped at your neck after taking your shirt off, tossing it on top of the closed toilet seat. You ran your fingers through his messy curls, gripping them as you shared hungry kisses. His hard pressed against his slacks, rubbing against your inner thigh.

“You’ve got about four minutes, Tan.” You said between kisses, “I don’t know if you’re that fast.”

“You underestimate me, love.” He grunted, “It’s gettin’ a bit old.”

Suddenly, he hiked your skirt and you played along, spreading your legs enough for his body to move between them. He quickly unzipped his pants while his right hand rubbed your wet clit and the left hand against your neck. 

You giggled, biting your bottom lip before slipping the tip of his cock into your pussy. You held back your gasp, giggling instead to get a rise out of him, but it just made him squeeze your neck a bit.

“Almost forgot how big you were.” You pouted, but he thrusted inside of you. You audibly gasped, and kissed his thumb pressed against your bottom lip.

At first he was slow-paced, purposefully making you beg for it. He knew your weak spots yet his head fell against your shoulder, a light whimper escaping his throat remembering how tight your cunt was. He held your leg up again, giving him an angle to work with and his cock bottomed out inside your pussy.

“Fuck!” You croaked, “God, you’re so… big. Stretching me out so good, baby.” You whined.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Tan cursed, his hips bucking as your skins slapped together. He was eager to make you cum, shattering in his arms and falling apart like he adored. His hand slapped against your ass cheek, kneading it the closer he got. 

You leaned your head back, rolling your eyes back and could see stars, Tangerine practically lifting you off your feet as your walls began to tighten around his hard cock.

“Please… please let me cum.” You begged, your eyes barely open, “I wanna cum. Please.”

“Gotta beg a little more, darling.” He gulped as his pace got faster, not realizing how strong he was, “Keep those pretty eyes lookin’ at me.”

You arched your back, “Ah, please!… I want your fucking cum filling me up. Make me cum all over your cock, baby.” Your pitch elevated, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum!”

He grunted against your shoulder, giving it a small bite before saying, “Cum, cum for me, love.” He lighty gasped but tried to mask it by kissing your shoulder.

Your fingers pulled his messy curls, not able to explain the complete bliss running throughout every vein and nerve in your body. His hand covered your mouth just as yours covered his, muffing your defeated moans when the two of your released inside your pussy.

As you came down from your highs, the two of you let out tired chuckles. His cock was still inside you, feeling your warm walls as he shared one last sloppy kiss. 

Your thumb ran across his cheek, “Better than Copenhagen?”

He half-smiled, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Ultimately, you agreed to let them take it from there. It was two more stops, and the train was coming to it’s next destination. You and Tangerine stood by the door, watching it slowly open and your stubbornness was eating you up. Although it was a risk to get off the train, seemed there was more than the two of you looking for the case. If anything, you loss some pay.

“You better get off now.” Tangerine told you, the two of you watching people pass.

You hummed, “I know… hope you can tell me how it goes if we ever meet again.” You sighed, placing your hands on his chest. Your eyes met with his, and he furrowed his brows. You twisted your hips, taking a deep breath before quickly meeting your lips with his again. Tender and slow.

 As you pulled your face from his, you nodded, “Bye, Tangerine.”

He expected for you to pass, and he actually thought he was going to miss you.

Instead, you forcefully pushed him out the door and it closed him out from coming back in. You rolled your eyes, walking up to the window as you watched the train pull from the station.

“I really am good.” You smirked.

[cant-have-shit-in-gotham]

On today's episode of Goons, Henchmen, and Everyone Else on Hood’s Payroll:

————

*playing twister*

Aaron: Right hand red.

Zoe: *ends up on top of Abby*

Zoe: You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

Aaron: I stopped spinning like 15 minutes ago. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't notice.

————

Sasha, gesturing to Ralf: Nightstalker, look what you did! You made Mom upset!

Spike: Mom, please don’t cry, we’re sorry!

Nightstalker: I’m sorry Mom... :(

Ralf, near tears: I DON’T REMEMBER GIVING BIRTH TO ANY OF YOU!

————

JT: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!

————

Diesel: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.

Gasoline: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.

Diesel: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.

Bill, on a walkie talkie: This is Bill, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.

————

Stitches: What are you writing?

JT: The government wants to know what kind of weapons we have in the house. I'm letting them know it's private information.

Wil, looking over Stitches’ shoulder: This jus’ says 'fuck around an’ find out' in calligraphy.

��———

Abby: Did you win? Or just not die?

Abby: Either way, hooray.

JT: ...Is "no" a valid answer?

Abby: The hooray is redacted and you frighten me.

————

[ooc: About the characters below the cut! This info may change some as characters get developed more. Absolutely none of this is plot-relevant, it's just for fun!]

JT, also known as Jason, is Hood’s right-hand man and highest-ranking henchman. He is in his early twenties and is known as very easygoing and relaxed unless you break one of Hood’s rules. Lives in the apartment^3. Dating Hood and Wil. (he/him) [ooc: JT is Hood, the information here is only what in-universe characters would know]

Ralph is Hood’s second-highest-ranking Henchman. He is a middle-aged widower with no kids. His wife died in a Freeze attack. (he/him)

Aaron is Hood’s fourth ranking henchman. He isn’t really fleshed out yet, but I am taking suggestions!

Sasha is Hood’s seventh ranking henchman. She isn’t really fleshed out yet, but I am taking suggestions!

Stitches (@stitches-stitches-stitches) is Hood’s newest and eighth-ranking henchman. He lives with Hood in the apartment^3, and is aroace. (he/they)

Zoe is a goon in her mid to late twenties, she watched Wil while he was on bedrest, and later Hood as well. They helped rescue Wil from Alcatraz. There is significant sexual tension between herself and Abby. (she/they)

Abby is a goon in her mid to late twenties, she spent most of her early years as a working girl but jumped at the chance to change career paths. She helped rescue Wil from Alcatraz and has watched Zombieland far too many times. There is significant sexual tension between herself and Zoe. (she/her)

Bill is a goon in his early forties. He has a machete. He isn’t really fleshed out yet, but I am taking suggestions! (he/him)

Arlo is Wil’s eighteen-year-old cousin. (@back-in-blood) They’re a meta who recently moved to Gotham, they also have a legal job. He helped rescue Wil. Dating Riley. (they/he, preference for they)

Riley is one of Hood’s goons, they helped to rescue Wil. (@shakespeares-favorite-goon) They were also present for the “Thirteen Hours” Scarecrow event. Dating Arlo. (they/them)

Spike unloads trucks for a living. It is a legal job. He has a wife and two kids, the oldest of which just graduated college, and Batman knocked one of his teeth out while looking for RR. They used to be a goon but successfully got out of that life. (he/they, preference for he)

Gasoline is in his early twenties and is a mechanic with a legal job under Hood. He is the best mechanic in the Alley and is dating Diesel. (he/him)

Diesel is a street and drag racer in his early twenties. He is the best driver around, and Hood often has him act as a getaway driver if one is needed. It's dating Gasoline. (he/it preference for he)

Nightstalker is an eighteen year old dancer who bounces around the Alley’s more sexual clubs. It uses the stage name Shadow and has a very dark emo and punk inspired style. “Emo” themed nights were its idea. (it/he, very strong preference for it)

[softstraykidshours]

~skz when they're stuck in traffic ~

pairing: none, just ot8 stray kids

genre: fluff, headcanon

length: 375

warnings: none (other than traffic and low key road rage lol)

chan

he is so prepared for this situation, like this man has basically all the emergency supplies you could possibly need (this includes a water bottle to pee in just in case)

already has spare snacks for basically any type of craving

he’s a big “listening to podcasts to kill time” guy

he will usually save the newest episode of one of his favorite podcasts for when he's stuck in traffic as a way to make waiting forever more enjoyable for himself

minho

the silence is so loud

he doesn't really talk when he's stuck in traffic, but he’s the kind to use aggressive hand motions

will white knuckle the steering wheel out of unadulterated rage

once traffic clears enough, call him vin diesel with the way he just tokyo drifts through lanes to escape

changbin

he becomes a total dad when stuck in traffic

he's checking google maps to see how much farther ahead traffic will last

he’s also the one that will report accidents or traffic to google so other people know about it

making dad comments like “gen z doesnt know how to drive,” “i remember when there wasn't this much traffic” literally the entire time

hyunjin

sooooo dramatic

this is quite literally the worst moment of his life and no one can convince him otherwise

how dare traffic be bad while he’s on the road??? disrespectful

will not stop complaining and whining about it the entire time he's stuck and for at least an hour after the traffic clears up

jisung

he is so loud out of straight fear

he doesn't like stopping on the freeway so the second he sees brake lights, he's yelling as if the world is about to implode

“please don't hit me please don't hit me please don't hit me”

he turns off any music and makes anyone in the car with him stay silent for the entirety of traffic because it "helps him focus"

felix

the nicest person you will ever be stuck in traffic with

he is sooo nice, like he is letting 4 people in ahead of him to merge

everyone behind him hates him (i can't blame them)

will be apologizing to the other car if someone almost hits him

likes being stuck in traffic because it gives him more time to talk with whoever is traveling with him

seungmin

his road rage just gets worse as the time goes on

he absolutely hates traffic and blames everyone else but himself

will keep the same even tone of voice with his comments, but will get so much meaner

“this wouldn't happen if everyone knew how to zipper”

“you stupid idiot what the hell are you thinking?!”

jeongin

he's not driving

he’s the passenger princess so he’s having a pretty good time while stuck in traffic because he doesn't have to navigate any of it

but he is 100% side seat driving

everything you do is wrong and he could have gotten you out to traffic ages ago if he was the one driving

[bruhstation]

Ok this is such a niche prompt but it entered my head and won't leave and I think you might enjoy it.

Which of the characters, Canon or Casa Tidmouth interpretations (your choice), do you think would best fit into the roles of the TF2 Mercenaries

Feel free to ignore btw this is an "I can't sleep" kind of random idea.

Also autocorrect almost made that Canada Tidmouth and I only just noticed before hitting send. Something something au where everything is the same but the story happens in Canada instead of England.

you think I might enjoy it? damn right‼️ took some days for me to think about this …..as a tf2 fan of 5 years I GOT TO answer…‼️

scout — thomas awdry billington himself. kind of a smartass, (one of) the youngest of the cast, is involved with much of the story’s surface while lots of other characters are working behind the scenes… also has the highest chance to get a misspelled tattoo of his favorite song

soldier — …..duck? soldier is a huge american nut and that could parallel casa tidmouth’s duck and his great western schtick. though duck’s much smarter than soldier and would read the manuals on how to use a rocket launcher at least eighty times and checking every nook and cranny before firing it. also imagine duck reciting soldier’s speech from his character video

pyro — as much as some of the characters are involved in denpa-esque situations and experience some level of delusion I don’t think there’s anyone that could match pyro’s. hurricane and frankie could fit because of their thing with heat and fire and them being crazy but that’s a bit stretching

demoman — donald and douglas? because they’re scottish and have a knack for jokes? lol ….. I think henry could fit too because both him and demoman gets involved with supernatural occurrences out of their will but they just laugh it off

heavy — maybeeeee gordon. his taunts like “run cowards” “tiny baby man” and them both being the tall big strong guys drew me to this connection. but heavy is more reserved, calculating, and doesn’t boast too much about himself while many of gordon’s accidents came from his own hubris

engineer — victor methinks….. both dell and victor have degrees in engineering and considered the smartest in the cast. also the more amicable ones yet has the ability to lose their patience once in a while. also I literally only drew him once. have to draw him again because he’s like if tf2 engineer is a cuban man and much more sane

medic — either lady or d10. both lady and medic share the same morbid curiosity towards humanity (though lady is milder and more of an observer rather than a doer) and are amicable and polite. both d10 and medic conduct body altering experiments that could put them in the national watchlist and have little to no regard for the safety of people around them. so diesel 10 it is the cheerful and friendly aspects of medic remind me of edward for some reason????? probably the glasses

sniper — cranky. just think about it. perched on something tall. thinks everyone around them is an idiot. just wants to get the job done but also cracks some morbid if not slightly sharp jokes

spy — I’ll say diesel because this comparison has layers upon layers of joke.

also your phone autocorrect 🤣 casa tidmouth but it’s set in canada? that’s scott pilgrim vs. the world stanza halifax

[vulpinesaint]

by the way. gravity by maura o'connor.

Gravity by Maura O’Connor

Today I am fragile pale twitching insane and full of purpose.

I’m thinking of my lover: my soft hips pressing his coarse belly my tongue on a salmon nipple, his hand buried in my thick orange hair the telephone ringing.

I’m thinking we tend our illnesses  as if they are our children: fevered screaming demanding attention and twenty dollar bills, hours we could have spent making love with the television on.

Faith is a series of calculations made by an idiot savant. I’m in love. I’m alone in this city of painted boxes stacked like alphabet blocks spelling nothing.

There are things I know: trees don’t sing birds don’t sprout leaves the sky never turns to wine roses bloom because that’s what roses do, whether we write poems for them or not.

I concentrate on small things:  ivy threaded through chain link, giveaway kittens huddled in a soggy cardboard box, a fat man blowing harmonica through a beard of rusty wires brown birds chattering furiously on power lines.

I try not to think about lung cancer, AIDS, the chemicals in the rain; things I can’t imagine any more than a color I’ve never seen

My heart is graffiti on the side of a subway train, a shadow on the wall made by a child. Nothing has been fair since my first skinned knee I believe death must be.

I cling to love as if it were an answer. I go on buying eggs and bread,  boots and corsets, knowing I’ll burn out before the sun.

I’m thinking of the days I tried to stay awake while the billboards and T.V. ads for condoms, microwave brownies, and dietetic jello lulled me to sleep.

A brown-eyed girl once told me a secret that should have blown this city into a mass of unconnected atoms Our sewage is piped to the sea.  Beggars in the street are hated for having the nerve to die in public. 

Charity requires paperwork, Relief requires medication

as if we were the afterthoughts of institutions greater than our rage.

Gravity chains us to the asphalt with such grace we think it is kind.

We all go on buying lottery tickets Diet Coke and toothpaste as if the sky over our heads were the roof of a gilded cage.

We provide evidence that we were here: initials cut into cracked vinyl bus seats, into trees growing from squares in concrete, a name left on a stone, an office building, a flower, a disease, a museum a child.

Tonight the stars glitter like rhinestones on a black suede glove.

In the coffin my room has become,  I talk to God about the infrequency of the rain about people who can’t see the current of gentleness running under the pale crust of my skin.

I tell him under the jackhammer crack, the diesel truck rumble, even the clicking sound traffic lights make switching from yellow to red, there is a silence swallowing every song, conversation, every whisper made beside graves or in the twisted white sheets of love.

I tell him I can’t fill it with dark wine, blue pills, a pink candle lit at the altar the lover touching my hair.

God doesn’t answer. God doesn’t know our names.

He’s only the architect designing the places we occupy like high rise offices or ant hills

I know this  the way I know sunrise and sunset are caused by the endless turning of the Earth.

[kineticpenguin]

It may not be your thing, but I'm interested to know your thoughts on World War Z & the work of Max Brooks in general. Especially given how hard you came down on stuff like GATE, and the arguably equally if-not-more ridiculous shit in WWZ ('Katanas are the perfect zombie killing weapon etc.')

I think it's a good narrative, but it suffers year upon year from the fact it has so many early-2000s tropes and misinformed views about everything from disease control to military equipment.

There was a whole year after the Zombie Survival Guide came out where you couldn't go online without seeing dipshits going on about smashing your staircase to survive the zombies, and I don't think I'll ever forgive him for that.

Max Brooks is an extremely frustrating author for me, and I sometimes wonder if I've been too hard on him in the past, and then I see some article about him and decide that if anything, I was too nice.

But as for the actual books themselves... I think the Zombie Survival Guide wasn't that great to begin with, and it hasn't aged well. Everything it tries to do has been done better by others over the last 20 years, for free, on the internet. It's kind of like one big reddit post from a Well Ackshually guy two years before the creation of Reddit. It is very, very, very silly, but takes itself completely seriously. So to me, it comes off as watching someone be extremely wrong with a really smug look on their face.

Which kinda gets me to my main problem with WWZ. Max Brooks' ideas about guns, military ordnance and the military in general are pretty goofy, and Brooks hits Peak Smug with the chapter with the secretary of... I forget what, but it's where Brooks is trying to make his point about the fragility of the military-industrial complex and the global economy, and he goes off on how expensive the Abrams is and that it runs on jet fuel, can you believe it? Can you believe how stupidly high tech our idiot military is? Where are you gonna get jet fuel in a zombie apocalypse?

I mean, the answer is pretty much "same place you get your diesel fuel, idiot." Jet fuel's not hard to make. Then there's also the fact that the Abrams' turbine engine will also run on just about anything you care to put in it, and running your turbine-powered vehicles and diesel-powered vehicles on the same fuel actually simplifies logistics.

It's like a zombie apocalypse envisioned by a liberal whose mindset was firmly set in the 1990s, with The End of History and The Last Man, Pentagon Wars, and boomer memes about M16s being unreliable shit.

[capo-cino]

hi guys

now that i have your attention im posting my stupid ass “thought up on a whim” headcanons here because that’s what ive been seeing the kids born yesterday (2009+) use tumblr for i think

- newton and the collector are buddies for they are stupid idiots who became evil for their stupid idiot decisions or behavior. they both also didn’t even build like half the traps and machines and shit themselves. newton just looked at his dad’s stuff and said “damn this is straight fire now how do i ruin it” and the collector kidnapped some guy to do everything for him

- there’s a brand of vacuums named and modeled after the negativitron

- if vex was given a chance to have a “redemption arc” he would just spend each day dedicating a completely random percentage of his day just him being himself, and the other percentage to him actually doing a decent job at not being himself. he will dedicate 76% of his tuesday to feeding seagulls a fat bag of chips and watch as they shit all over a crowd at a beach and the remaining 24% is spent on helping sackboy pick some apples off a tree and make some smoothies with them or something. never let anyone know his next move

also vex likes sour candy. he probably puts salt instead of sugar in his lemonade and drinks it completely without making a face

- scarlet and vex’s dynamic is that of like those shoulder angels and devils in cartoons except on sackboy’s shoulders. so they just constantly bitch at each other over what to do whenever sackboy’s stuck on something he has to do, with scarlet doing the best she can to just end the argument and get sackboy to try what she suggests while vex makes some stupidly snarky ass remarks to deliberately drag on the conversation just to (mostly) annoy scarlet

i kind of drew this but like, as a redraw of that one meme of the angel and devil looking horrified at a computer screen

- this isn’t really a headcanon idt but i kinda imagined vex’s attempts in “corrupting” sackboy as rare but also extremely unintentional positive interactions and possibly bring out more personality in sackboy, like he disguises his first few attempts as “harmless pranks” as he would know that sackboy wouldn’t cave in so easily to his harsher pranks that he has planned so he starts off with something small like getting him to throw a snowball at an unsuspecting sackperson from a hill on a particularly snowy day but the sackperson in question just laughs it off when they notice its sackboy so they just throw a snowball back and a snowball fight ensues between the two and possibly throughout all of loom and vex is watching this like “what have i just started”

- newton has put diesel in cars

[purpleturtle9000]

*slides in through the mail slot that you have definitely always had*

Greetings friend. I do not know much about the bayverse boys (haven’t watched the movies sinceI was a smol) but having said that, I request you assign them favorite movies, to watch, together and on their own (if different)

Beaming vibes of something nice will happen to you today <3

Real talk I wish I had a mail slot those thinks look cool as hell. But yes greetings and good vibes friend!!

Donnie is a fan of horror movies, but gets bored with most creature features because there's no logical reason for the [insert animal here] to relentlessly hunt random humans. But if a movie has lore of some kind, he loves that! He's seen a few seasons of Supernatural is what I'm saying. He loves lore-heavy movies in general, especially if there's tie-in books, but he also likes murder and mayhem. The only creature movies he does like are the Alien series. He admires the xenomorphs immensely for their pure, uncompromised killing power. (Leo really wonders about that part.)

Mikey's is Ponyo! It's a movie about transitioning between worlds, leaving behind the magical for the human, and finding unconditional love and acceptance there. Since Mikey loves video games, I hc that he favours animation over 'real life' media. That combined with his attraction to the human world, and desire to engage with it, means this is the perfect fit for him! Also the movie is downright gorgeous I mean honestly. A close second is Lilo and Stitch cause it has similar themes, and also aliens! Who doesn't love aliens?

Okay so for Raph there's an obvious answer, cause he canonically admires Vin Diesel. Except, and hear me out here - Ice Age. First of all it's a found-family movie and you can't tell me Raph isn't a fan of found family, it's literally what the turtles are. It's also about three random weirdos bonding, and one of said weirdoes changing from secretly-a-bad-guy to nearly-died-protecting-family. But also can I make it canon that the Vin Diesel appreciation is not because of any of the action movies? It's because of The Iron Giant. He cried over that movie I know it in my heart listen to me Nickelodeon-

Leo's is, ironically, a Vin Diesel movie. The Fast and The Furious, to be exact! He'd be the family car guy if it weren't for the fact that Donnie won't let anyone touch the turtle tank. As it is, he finds shiny cars very cool, even if there are parts in the later movies that he thinks are. Kinda stupid. It's part of the appeal, that boy's too uptight, he needs to relax by liking kinda-dumb action movies that heavily emphasize family bonds. He's also a huge fan of I Love Lucy because Splinter would let Leo watch it with him while the others were busy with their own things. As a treat for me, he likes the Transformers movies and sometimes calls April 'Mikaela' and everyone looks at him like he's an idiot. He needs to be a lil stupid sometimes it's good for him.

Family movie nights often involve superheroes of some kind. Sky High, Avengers, Megamind, Men In Black. Leo has a list of inaccurate sci-fi movies that will make Donnie yell at the tv because the rest of them think it's funny how worked up he gets. Mikey has a list of 100 top movies that he insists on going through to learn about human culture. They all get really invested in Leverage at one point. Once Donnie made them sit through a documentary about turtles and they threw popcorn at him through the whole thing. They watch a lot of basketball and also the security cameras at Central Park Zoo! Raph's favourite are the red pandas. Leo would not say this even under pain of death, but he likes watching the turtles. Mikey thinks it's cool that they let peacocks walk around and Donnie likes the snow leopard.

[zoeykallus]

Somehow, I thought about the batch + Rex and cars.

What car would they drive?

How they behave when you drive?

And how they drive? I can imagine that tech is a pretty good and careful driver but when you are in an hurry, oh boy. And Echo has a problem with road rage and comment every other driver (there are rules!), but tries hard to keep calm....

PS: Deine Geschichten sind immer gut zum runter kommen. Grüße aus Deutschland;)

Okay this is a newer request and I'm picking it out to do before the others because I already actually thought about this and made some notes on it, weeks ago. Now I can finally use those notes :D The first time I ever made notes for something I write ^^'

Wo kommen denn nun all die Deutschen her? XD Grüße zurück! Freut mich sehr das zu lesen :D

The Bad Batch Headcanons - Cars And Driving

Hunter

Affordable Car: A muscle car. It's a guilty pleasure, but he loves the soul and beauty of old American muscle. He knows they drink fuel like hell, but as mentioned before. It's a guilty pleasure. He'd probably be going with an old Dodge Charger, 1970 440 ci or R/T. It's raw, it's powerful, it's loud and yet elegant.

Look

Look

Car if he had the money: Same car. His guilty pleasure is more or less affordable, so why pick any other car?

How he drives: Hunter is a cruiser. His car is loud and big, it's raw in itself. He doesn't need to race around to be seen. Besides, he's not the kind of guy who feels the need to be seen. It's more about the feeling of driving that car. Feeling the vibration of the V8 engine, the growling sound. Imagine him behind the wheel of such a car, hot damn.

I owned that car once by the way ^^'

When you drive: He's relaxed. Unless you are a hasty or nervous driver. He's not the kind to tell you how to drive or anything like that. He's actually a decent co-driver.

Echo

Affordable Car: Probably an older and used Volvo V70. He's all about safety, especially when he's driving with you. Volvo ha a great reputation of building safe cars. The V70 has a lot of space, for guests, kids or pets. Just in case, you know.

Look

Car if he had the money: The newest Volvo V60, with all extras possible. You know, he's actually a Volvo Fan.

Look

How he drives: Echo is calm and collected. Mostly. As long as no other idiot breaks any rules. He's fiery commenting on idiots breaking rules, but he's not cursing. At least, he tries not to. Driving by the book is his motto.

When you drive: Remember, he loves you, and you love him. He's nervous when he's not driving himself. Telling you when you are 2 miles too fast, reminds you of every sign. Tell's you when to hit the brakes and so much more. Very annoying, wouldn't recommend.

Wrecker

Affordable Car: An old, used Ford pickup truck. It's simple, it's big. Kinda like him. He can transport stuff with it and that's pretty much all he needs.

Look

Car if he had the money: Inkas Sentry. A Canadian beauty build for SWAT Teams and Military. Armored and Off-road fit. Under the hood sits a massive 6.7-liter turbo diesel with eight cylinders and 367 hp. 4WD is standard, and there is room for eight people in the cabin. He doesn't need that beautiful beast, but he wants it.

Look

How he drives: He's chaotic but relaxed too. In traffic, he keeps his calm, he's not that easy to rattle. But if he gets the chance to drive Off-road, he goes nuts. You don't want to be his co-driver when he leaves the road. Break-neck maneuvers and speed, he loves to make the car jump.

When you drive: Layed back and relaxed. No matter how you drive. He is used to Tech's driving and flying. He regularly falls asleep when you drive longer than an hour.

Tech

Affordable Car: He likes German cars. No, not BMW and not Mercedes either. Audi. Aside from the fact that BMW and Mercedes are generally expensive, he does prefer the Audi Design. An old, used Audi A3 is his got to car.

Look

Car if he had the money: 2020 Audi RS7 Sportback (C8) - 600hp/800nm - V8 4.0 TwinTurbo Mild Hybrid. 0-100kmh(62mph): 3.38sec(tested), 3.6sec (official), Top Speed: 305km/h (191mph) Strong, fast, pretty, all extras. He loves that car, almost treats it like a lady. Almost.

Look

How he drives: He knows the rules, but he likes to break them. He drives pretty fast. He's got everything under control, but he likes it speedy and a bit risky. Don't eat before you drive with him, might be better for everyone involved, including the car.

When you drive: He gets travel sickness when he doesn't drive himself, he can't look at his holopad without throwing up, you both learned that the hard way. So he is focused on you. He talks a lot, telling you something about everything he sees while you drive. He can't help it, his brain needs food, and right now he can't do anything but talk to you.

Crosshair

Affordable Car: None. If he can't get his dream car, he doesn't want one.

Car if he had the money: A 2018 Aston Martin Vanquish S. V12.

5.9-liter V12 pumping out 580 hp and 465 lb-ft (630 Nm). Drive is sent through the rear wheels courtesy of an eight-speed automatic transmission. An elegant beast.

Look

How he drives: Despite owning a race machine, he's not a speeder at all. He's surprisingly average at driving, unless he wants to show off in front of you. The car is pretty and fun, but to let the beast out from under the hood, he likes to go on racetracks, and rent some time to drive a few rounds, but you'll never see him speed in normal traffic. He doesn't really want or need that.

When you drive: Very quiet. The only thing you might hear from time to time is a passive-aggressive sigh or grunt when you drive in a way he doesn't like.

Rex

Affordable Car: Any older used car. He really doesn't care much, he takes what he can get and afford. Most likely an old Ford or Kia. The car is not that important for him, and it's certainly not a status symbol, like it is for so many others.

Car if he has the money: Well, if he had the money and could actually really choose, he'd pick a classic car. He likes the vintage charm. Some 1956 Cadillac Fleetwood will do. He's a huge Elvis fan by the way.

Look

How he drives: Calm, collected, sticking to the rules. He's a cruiser like Hunter. He's quick to judge and lecture others about their driving, though.

When you drive: Rex is pretty much the same as Hunter, he is pretty quiet and relaxed as long as you are too.

Personally I love the cars Hunter and Tech picked, but I'd rather drive with Hunter.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@puppetswithteeth

[maddiem4-writes]

Midway

I stayed up a bit later on this one than I wanted too, but I really got into a flow that I didn't want to interrupt. The more I write these characters, the more I like them. It feels like a good sign to me, that I can't advance the plot without naturally writing character development, and vice versa.

Anyways. You know the drill by now. Close your eyes. It's the Fourth of July, 1982, at the New York State Fair. The heart of the fairgrounds is a busy place, even when it's not bannered red-white-and-blue. Teenagers kiss in the shade behind the portable haunted house, and the line to ride the bumper cars feels eternal. And on the border of the Expo Center, a little girl is closing her eyes, just like you...

The smell hit my nose before I even opened my eyes. Animals, farm animals: cow farts and goat piss and pig muck and horse shit. But also hay, and dust, diesel exhaust, and lilting above it all, cutting through it, the deep-fried irresistible smell of funnel cake. The chaos was wild, alive, constantly teetering between enticement and disgust.

I didn't waste my first moments of sight on Alan. Alan could manage himself. Holding a hand was a skill I'd mastered at age 4, and if my math was right, in here? This particular memory? I was all of 11 years old.

I'd dipped into this memory very briefly that morning, just barely enough to grab a snack and go. I was a little too used to my powers, maybe, only appreciating them when I had a guest to interrupt my routine - to put the magic back into the magic. Looking around me now, I felt the wonder all over again, stepping into this big, impossibly big world, with my whole future ahead of me. It was a lost world, and I'd stolen it back, an immaculate archive woven into my soul.

The Ferris wheel loomed over us, and that terrifying tilting thing I'd never had the guts to ride, and to my left, holding my hand, so did Alan. It was strange to see him so tall. Holding my right hand, was my father. Alan turned to see us and froze in shock, jumped, and I gripped his hand insistently.

"I told you, you have to hold on, idiot." I glared up at him, making a point of it.

"Just… what? Okay first of all you are so tiny and a child. That is not a move you pull right after sex, I shouldn't even fucking have to say that. Nobody should have to say that!" He was backed off as far as he could go, our arms taut. "And like, second, is this your fucking dad?" He looked up, bug-eyed. "Sir I swear this is not what it looks-"

I yanked his arm close enough to stomp on his foot. "Can it, dumbass. We're in a memory. I'm still me, and he can't really react to you. Be cool."

He was hyperventilating, which I took as a sign of direct disobedience. "Oh yeah? Be cool, huh? I've never been in a memory before. I don't know what's going on! And he's looking at me!" My hapless visitor pointed repeatedly, although once would have gotten the point across. "Why's he looking at me?"

I sighed. "People in memories are like… actors. Placeholders that just kind of wait for cues and lines, so they can do their cues and lines. Watch." I looked up at my memory-dad, and he looked at me, with that soft dopey face of his, the kind of deep-set eyes that are brought to you by the letter Beer.

I looked into his eyes and told him, matter of factly, "Ooga booga woogidee woo." Waved my hand in front of his face, and he didn't even flinch.

I took it further. "Mommy sucks off your brother every Thursday night." Memory-Dad's smile never changed, as peaceful and adoring as ever. Man had the patience of a saint, or maybe more aptly, a golem.

"I'll be damned," Alan muttered in wonder behind me. I turned, and he'd settled down almost immediately. I think if he'd had a notepad handy, he'd be filling it full of scribbles on the spot. "Can you control him?"

I smirked. "Nah. He'll just wait forever until I say my line. This place is halfway between a recording and a simulation. He's not reacting, because none of this is what I said next in '82."

"Obviously not. Although to be fair, you do have a bit of Bad Seed energy. It's not unthinkable."

I chuckled. "There's only one thing that's unthinkable, Alan. Can you guess it?"

He grimaced. "Can I guess the unthinkable thing? I doubt it."

I leaned toward him, with a gap-toothed grin. "THE PSYTANIC!"

He groaned, and I stuck my tongue out at him. "Wow. I didn't figure you for awful puns, Lizzy. That's a clunker."

"Oh, you love it," I said, rolling my shoulders in sweet victory.

"You wish!" But he was smiling. I got him. "Truly, you are full of terrifying and terrible talents." He bowed theatrically.

"Yeah." My smile sagged a little. "I didn't come up with that one though. It was… one of my dad's favorites." I looked up at his automaton. "You would have liked him, I think. The real version I mean."

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Kind of a bold claim, for someone who doesn't know me much yet."

"No, but I knew him. He loved everybody, everybody loved him. Well, I guess there were some exceptions. He sure managed to marry one." His image continued to wait, patient and peaceful. It was starting to hurt, to look at his eyes. "I think there had to be a time when mom and dad loved each other. Like, logically, right? Just… sucks that I missed it."

"Yeah." Alan stared at his shoes as the Midway crowd hummed around us. A handful of people screamed distantly as their roller coaster cars ticked over from lift to descent. The popcorn and cotton candy and overtaxed toilets waged war over the air, and the flies buzzed for all of it. Only we stood still. "…. yeah."

I squeezed my dad's hand. He looked at me attentively. I said, softly, "Hey. Can we get slushies?" I felt very, very small.

He nodded, and brightened up with excitement. "Sure, pumpkin, I got a few bucks budgeted for snacks, and I think a slushie would count." He leaned down, until he booped my nose with his. "Do you want…. asphalt flavor?"

I giggled. "No!"

"Do you want… barf flavored?"

I shook my head vigorously. "Nooo! Dad!"

"Do you want… roadkill chipmunk with a cigarette ash swirl, all topped with-"

"Dad!" I suddenly interrupted. This part… would hurt. "I'm not a little kid anymore. I just wanna see what flavors they have, okay? Don't be…" I didn't want to say this line. I was glad I didn't need to get the tone right, and so I said it soft, a soreness in my throat. "Don't be stupid."

His face fell. "Oh." He stepped back a pace, staring ahead. He nodded quietly. "That's how you… okay." He stood up, peered around over the crowd lifelessly. "It's over there. It's… it's over there."

I followed him, and Alan followed me, and at the cart, I picked lime.

We all sat down at a bench together. We were a quiet pack. Alan obviously couldn't order anything, and I didn't feel much like rewarding myself, so I handed mine to him. Dad got peach. We all sat there and watched the people mill and march around us.

Alan put the cup down after a few long sips. "Hey. Look, I'm… sorry about what I said earlier. The bad seed thing. I hope that's not close to home or anything."

I shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. I mean, I joked about Uncle Irwin, and that whole mess was real. Mom was a skank. It's old news, it's fine." I couldn't mask my voice well. I don't think Alan believed me.

He leaned back on the bench. "If it's fine, it's fine." He tapped the straw to his lips, thinking. "I just don't want to say anything hurtful."

I rubbed my temple with my free hand. "God! Can't you see that's a hundred times worse? Don't pity me. I've got a better afterlife than your actual life, if your life was twenty times better. I outgrew all these shitbirds around me." I waved my hand around at my past. "So stop treating me like glassware. These fucks couldn't break me, and neither can you."

He leaned back. "Okay, okay! Jesus." He scratched his head, and winked at me. "Irwin, though. Your mom hoed out for a guy named Irwin."

I laughed, and tossed my hair back. "Well I hoed out for an Alan, and really, who sleeps with an Alaaaan?" I needled him. "The only thing worse would be being an Alan!"

"Heyyyy, what's wrong with being an Alan?" he feigned a great offense. "I've been an Alan all my life, I'll have you know."

"It's a dweeb name! Alan. Look at us, the cuck, the dweeb and the ho."

"A fearsome triumvarate."

"They'll never know what fucked 'em."

"Hear, hear!" He toasted the air in front of me, since I didn't have a drink. Or, well, he had my drink. After a triumphant slurp, he put the half-full cup back down. "On that note, strategy. I haven't forgotten the conversation we're actually here to have."

"Right. You first, wiz kid. What are you up to, in that basement of yours?" My lips curled up, I was genuinely curious.

"A broad variety of things - the broadest possible, really." He cleared his throat. "That's kind of the point. I'm… curious."

"Curious?"

"Yeah, curious. Every type of magic has a feel to it, and details to know, and catches to navigate. Conventional wisdom is, okay, there's too much magic in the world to know it all. Well… fuck that. I don't just want to know everything in the flat and hypothetical sense that I read some words on a page. You don't really know it until you do it, and I want to know… everything."

I tapped my fingers on the wooden table. "Really?" I was fascinated. "'Everything' is… broad, even to read. But you want to do. You realize that your little project is going to include some real fucked up shit, right?"

Alan smiled thinly. "You have no idea."

I found myself very impressed with Mr. Shaw.

He turned to look straight at me. "I think I've incriminated myself enough for one long-past Independence Day, don't you? Now spill, Miss Elizabeth. What's up your sleeve, that you need a half-amateur sorcerer to make it happen?"

The wood was smooth under my slow-moving fingers, polished by heavy use and greyed by sun-bleaching. "I keep my interests close to my chest. But… well… there's a certain spell I'd like to acquire. It has some interesting potential if you put enough juice into it."

He sucked down another sip. "What kind of spell?"

I smiled sweetly at him. "Love."

"That's suspiciously mundane. What are you expecting to happen by amping it up to 11?"

"I'm expecting it to work, Alan. No maybes. Oh, and I'll need to track someone down, but I think I can mostly handle it on my own, unless you have some very interesting contacts."

"Funny you should mention that…"

I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"

"Because, if you can help me with the teeny, tiny resurrection I've been working on…" He winked, and finished off the slushie.

[office-hours-affection-if]

Can mc try to resist loving Diesel? Like "You already broke my heart once, what kind of idiot would let it do it a second time?" or "Yeah and how long will this time last? a week, months? hell maybe years?"

It will depend on you in the IF anon! You can resist it and/or ultimately just give in 🫣

thank you for the ask :]

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 15-Destination:34090

Day 15-destination

Other Stories

34090

August 1967

34090 pulled into the station wearily. She had almost been asleep when she was pulled out to pull an express for a failed warship. Had she had enough sleep, or been better maintained, it would have been easy. As it was, the run had been a slog. Even worse, her manager was waiting at the platform.

"Sir Eustace Missenden," 34090 gritted her teeth. She didn't hate her manager, but at times she really wanted to. He was simply an idiot, following control's orders because it never occurred to him that he was able to think, much less actually attempt to do it. Which was probably why management chose him in the first place. Nevertheless, he treated his engines and crews fairly and without needless cruelty, which was far more than most engines could say these days. She knew calling her by her official name was him trying to be kind, but she hated being called a man's name. Nonetheless she knew better than to show it.

"Sir what a pleasant surprise," she said, putting on a fake smile. "Have another revolutionary engine that can't pull their train?"

The 42 across from her at the other platform glared.

"No, I'm glad to say that's not it. You've been sold early."

Oh. The diesel across from her lost the glare and instead looked sympathetic.

"I see, sir" she said with a fake smile. "Shall I wait in the siding, or shall I save you the trouble and drive to the scrapyard myself."

The shockingly dense man failed to notice the ice in her tone. "No need for that my dear, you haven't been sold for scrap after all. Just uncouple from your train and be ready to double head with one of their engines"

Both 34090 and the 42 starred. Several of her siblings had been passed over for preservation because they were in too bad of shape to restore, and she was in worse shape than they were!

"A preservation line bought her?" The 42 asked incredulously. 34090 glared at the engine which balked. 

 "No. Another region bought her."

"She's in horrible shape! I'll admit she's a good worker, but you could build a new diesel for the cost it took to repair her!"

"And yet I was needed to pull the train today. Perhaps they prefer fixing engines that actually work instead."

"Or they need you for spare parts."

A deep ringing whistle echoed in the distance and 34090 froze before she could respond. She slowly turned to her manager, who was smiling broadly. "They asked for you specifically, hounded Sir Raymond himself until he signed the transfer orders himself. I don't know what you did to impress the North Western Region, but they wouldn't take no for an answer."

The 42's face was nearly as green as his paint with envy.

A deep puffing echoed along the length of the platform as an excursion special rolled into the station. No less than fifteen gleaming tan coaches trailed behind a massive engine. His blue paint was shined to the point you could see her grungy reflection in it. His well oiled motion moved silently, and he puffed effortlessly into the station.

'No! I don't want him to see me like this!' She thought desperately, but it was far too late for that as he pulled alongside with a joyful whistle.

North Western number 4 Gordon towered over the scene, not only in size, but in spirit. Children and adults alike were flocking to see the famous pacific, but he ignored them, focusing on her. "Rebecca," he said with relief, "I am so glad to see you alright."

34090 forced herself to meet the eyes of the engine who taught her everything. The only one besides her classmates who knew the name she'd chosen for herself. "I'm sorry I'm not up to standard." She said quietly. Of all engines to see her like this, it would be the engine who taught her to be an express engine.

"Little sister," he said surprisingly gently, "I couldn't care less if you were painted back, covered in soot, and missing both cab and tender. I just want you safe on Sodor."

She focused on the rails in front of her, "I'm not the same little engine you knew." She barked a bitter laugh, "The nicest thing I've been called lately is caustic."

"Good," he said simply as he was uncoupled and ran forward. "All the better to put up with the idiots at home."

He rolled back onto her line and gently buffered up in front of her. "I didn't come here to get a meek and biddable engine. I came here to save my sister."

On the platform a larger man in a suit and tophat was exchanging paperwork with her former manager. "I just...I just don't want to disappoint you."

"The only way you could disappoint me is if you didn't come home." He said simply as he pulled them forward past the switch, "and I have no plans of allowing that to happen."

 The points were flipped and he backed them down onto the train. "You don't have to do or be anything, little sister. I've put up with my shed mates for fifty years, and somehow none of us hate each other. And we didn't have the advantage of being family. I will happily deal with anything you do as long as you come home."

Rebecca was quiet for a long moment, "You've changed a lot."

"It turns out I still had a lot to learn while I was teaching you."

"I like it." She was quiet for a long moment. "I don't think I'll be much help on the way home."

"Worry not little sister," she could hear the smile in his voice as they were coupled up to the special. "Just rest and I'll get us to our destination. I may be older but I'm still strong enough to pull you and the express."

Rebecca chuckled, "there's the gresley bravado I was expecting."

"It's not arrogance if it's true."

The flag dropped and the whistle blew, and with a mighty heave from the big blue engine started the train. Rebecca smiled and let the puffing of her big brother lull her to sleep as they raced towards Sodor and safety.

[captainchewtoybaby]

Be my Baby

Chapter 9: kiss cam

A week later Whitney and Bret were on their date. The reason it took a week was because  both were a bit busy with their work. Bret kept apologizing that it took him a week to find out what they were gonna do on the date but Whitney had told him that it was okay. So here they were watching a hockey game that Owen was supposed to go to but he called it off.  

"I'm sorry I couldn't get us better seats." Bret said. 

"For the last time, it's fine." Whitney assured him. "Thanks for the popcorn though." She held up the bag of caramel popcorn. 

"No problem." Bret said. "Have you ever written about hockey?" 

"Uh no, I would like to." Whitney said. "You know, you strike me as a hockey player."

"You think so?" Bret said.

"Yea, I mean you have the look for it, tall, mean looking-" 

"You think I look mean?" Bret laughed. 

"Well if i look at you in the ring, yea you look a bit mean." 

Bret started laughing and so was Whitney. 

"What?" Whitney said.

"Nothing, it's just funny that you think I look mean." Bret said. "And because you said that I'll smile from now on." 

"Oh my god, you don't have to do tha-" But when she turned to him he already had this weird smile on his face. 

"Oh god, that's creepy." Whitney laughed.

"Hey, you said I looked mean, so I'm smiling." Bret said and smiled again and teasingly brought his face close to hers.

"Stop that." She lightly pushed his face away. He again brought it close to her face.

"Watch the game." Whitney chuckled and turned his face towards the game. 

After forty minutes it was finally break time. That's when the camera pointed at two people and the words 'kiss cam' came on screen.

"Oh a kiss cam." Whitney said in excitement. The camera pointed to all sorts of couples. From quick kisses to over the top make out sessions, the kiss cam got it all. Whitney and Bret were enjoying it until something happened.

"Oh, cool, he has the same jacket as me." Bret said. Whitney on the other hand realized where the camera was. 

"Uh, Bret, that is you." She said. The kiss cam was on them. They both looked at each other. Was this it? Were they actually about to kiss? It was only one date. Whitney wasn't even ready. Or was she? 

"Well pucker up, sunshine." Bret said and he leaned forward, his lips touching hers. It took a second for Whitney to realize what was happening. His lips tasted of beer and caramel. All she could feel was her stomach doing backflips. The crowd cheered. 

When he pulled away, they both looked at each other. Bret then let out a cough. 

"So, uh, more soda?" He asked and Whitney nodded. Bret got up and went to get another soda. Whitney rubbed her forehead. Did he just do that?

All she could do was sink further into her seat, bite her lip and smile, because she could believe that he had just kissed her. And that was the moment Whitney finally came to the conclusion that she actually liked Bret Hart. 

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

The ride back to the motel was kind of quiet. Bret was still stunned that he actually kissed Whitney. He hoped that he didn't make her uncomfortable, but what else could he do. Now they were standing in front of Whitney's room.

"So, uhm, I hope you had a good time?" Bret asked. 

"Oh, I did, it was fun and thank you for the dinner." She said, fumbling with her fingers.

"You're welcome." He said."i guess I should go."  

But did he really want to go? Did she really want him to go? Cause judging by the look on her face, she didn't want to. 

"Yea, i should go too." She said,

Bret was fighting the inner urge to kiss her again. Was he going to do it? For the second time. She was right there. If he could just lean in. 

"Well, goodnight." Whitney said.

"Night." Bret said. And with that she turned around and walked inside. Bret sighed. Welp, there goes his chance. Idiot. 

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

tag list : @aritamargarita @rainchyna @diesel-pls-powerbomb-me

[agentnico]

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 (2023) Review

This film features the MCU’s first use of the F-bomb, and I must say its inclusion works for a great joke. However Marvel fans better be prepared, as this is nothing compared to what Deadpool is going to bring to this cinematic universe. Don’t you dare PG Deadpool! Disney don’t you do it!!

Plot: Still reeling from the loss of Gamora, Peter Quill must rally his team to defend the universe and protect one of their own. If the mission is not completely successful, it could possibly lead to the end of the Guardians as we know them.

Fresh off the heels of their very entertaining Holiday Special that gave us the gift of Kevin Bacon singing Christmas songs, the Guardians return for what is pitched as their final outing for this version of the team, as well as the final time James Gunn directs them before fully embracing his new head-of-DC duties. Look, we all love these characters, so of course even though the Marvel Cinematic Universe itself is stuck in a bit of a rut at the moment, there was no chance I was going to miss this final hurrah for these galaxy saving a-holes. 

I’m happy to report that Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 is a very enjoyable superhero flick and a very satisfying conclusion for its heroes. What works for this movie is what Marvel itself currently lacks - focus. There are many characters here to balance yet Gunn manages to give each and every one of them a moment in the spotlight, whilst also delivering a tale filled with emotion, humour and heart. In a way it’s like the recent Thor: Love & Thunder, only it’s not a pile of crap. Unlike that movie, Guardians 3 manages to find a perfect stability between its comedy and dramatic heft, and the result is a super entertaining movie. 

Naturally the big focus is on Rocket and his tragic backstory, and yes there is some animal cruelty involved so be warned, but that dark element really rose the stakes for this film and made you really care and understand why Rocket is the way he is, whilst also providing the perfect motivation for our team to proceed. In terms of the backstory, yep, it can be at times hard to watch. But also the animal characters are really adorable. A scene between an intelligent raccoon, a rabbit with artificial legs, a walrus with wheels and an otter with metal arms really got to me in a way I didn’t expect. My heart of stone was touched. What was also effective in relation to the backstory and even the present story was the villain. Chukwudi Iwuji was fantastic playing a truly despicable and downright horrible antagonist who had no moral compass. All too recently Marvel has been trying to give all its villains an element to root off, so it was nice to see one that was simply a bad guy full stop. And Iwuji infused this character with terror and evil. And look, he was much more menacing than Majors’s Kang who is supposed to be the MCU’s new big bad. 

As mentioned prior, all characters get their moment to shine. It was nice seeing Chris Pratt return back to the goofball teenager attitude, as the character of Star-Lord was kind of ruined in the Avengers films and even in the Holiday Special he seemed off, but here Pratt makes Star-Lord once again the loveable idiot, and it was great seeing him back. Also his rapport with Gamora was very interesting, as following Endgame the original Gamora had died and was replaced by an alternate universe past version, so she doesn’t recall her romance with Star-Lord, so he is stuck longing for something he can never have which leads to both emotional and humoristic moments. Dave Bautista’s Drax and Pom Klementieff’s Mantis continue their fun banter following the Holiday Special, and Groot is, you know, still Grooting. At least it allows Vin Diesel to take a little break in between his endless Fast & Furious movies. Karen Gillan as Nebula brings her solid deadpan delivery, Sean Gunn’s Kraglin gets more opportunity to enjoy being part of the main group now, as Maria Bakalova voices Cosmo the Dog, and Cosmo is great. Just don’t call her “a bad dog”, she doesn’t like it. 

Visually this is one of Marvel’s best looking movies, especially since even though there is green screen used, it is pretty smooth. What’s more there’s a lot of practical effects used too, and I even read on IMDb that this film sets the record for the most makeup appliances used in a single film, having more than 23,000 prosthetics used across more than 1,000 actors. And I’ll always pick practical effects over CGI. In terms of negatives, there aren’t many. Will Poulter is introduced as Adam Warlock, and he seems the most shoehorned in, as his arc and inclusion feels very pointless and inconsequential. Will Poulter himself is solid playing yet another baby-minded caricature, but I feel like Warlock should have been saved for later or maybe introduced in an earlier movie. Also the soundtrack - it’s by no means bad and there are a few bangers, but it’s got nothing on Awesome Mixes Vol. 1 & 2. 

James Gunn emphasises yet again that without him Marvel is going to struggle, especially when it comes to continuing the storylines of some of these characters in the future, but nonetheless Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 is a wonderful ride and a great caper to Gunn’s trilogy, bringing lots of great humour, character dynamics and emotion, and gets you hooked on a feeling...one last time. Oh, and Gunn finally managed to properly show Nathan Fillion’s face in a Marvel movie, and that in itself is a win!

Overall score: 8/10