#pusher mode

[spnwin-reader]

This morning, I’m thinking about the Winchester “pushiness” of “what’s next?” Despite chafing against his mom’s question, John then turns around and asks Mary the same thing. What’s next for her?

It is a duality for Mary: she feels pressured, spooked even. But also… warily hopeful. She wants to borrow some of John's hope, actually.

Mary tries to explain to him that she’s just trying to stay alive. Her hunting past feels like predetermination. “Campbell duty and heroics,” maybe.

Overall, John is maybe sometimes too focused on The Future, on What Comes After. We will see that many in his family search for “noble” purpose through work/industriousness. He is practically begging anyone to take his hand and go towards a future with him.

///

On the positive side, this can be a very positive trait! Patience, persistence... not giving up.

(14x02)

[daportalpractitioner]

aries degrees in the natal chart (1°, 13°, 25°)

1° = initiator. pioneer. noob. impulsive. stepping into leadership. issues with taking action. fear. immaturity. sheltered. deemed as incapable. taking unprecedented action. changing the algorithm. nu ventures. ancestral support. struggles with discipline + following thru. craziest ideas. misunderstood. a need to self-validate your actions. curiosity with action triggers development. risk taker. passion doesn't last long. innocent. doesn't think before acting. fleeting emotions + attraction. gets bored easily.

13° = warrior innerG. struggles to get out of survival mode. selfish. wounded masculine energy. narcissism. unprocessed anger. hella opps/haters. imposter syndrome. power struggles. narcissistic parent(s). overcoming people pleasing. boundary pusher. learning to be more considerate. gets physically hurt easily. abusive relationships. anger management class. dark feminine innerG. rebel. challenges inequality. deals with people trying to shut you down. moody. intolerable. struggles with inflammation. headaches/migraines. sensitive crown chakra. identity crisis.

25° = breaking free from parents. not giving a fuck what anybody thinks. learning how to honor your sacred rage. obtaining freedom. cannot be controlled. pro manifestor. learning how to honor + respect boundaries. a need to develop a secure attachment style. a need to balance your yin/yang energy. you have to give to receive. strong relationships. lover and a fighter. makes a great leader. learn to be a confident decision maker. desires marriage. honors the importance of freedom. dealing with people tryna gaslight you. strong identity. entrepreneur vibes. gets what you want without any force. very confident. honest.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 11

Hey guys! This story is moving right along, though Act 2 might be a little shorter than Act 1. Mainly because I'm running out of plot on the

"Steve struggles with being a sugar baby" aspect of it. But we'll see.

In this Steve drives his dream machine, Eddie cheers him, and Steve watches bad porn.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

~

The car drove like a dream. It was smoother and sleeker than the Bimmer, too. Steve reveled in the soft seats and great handling.

When he pulled up to the record shop, he almost didn’t want to get out of the car. But he needed more variety in his music than just Corroded Coffin tapes.

He wandered through the alternative rock section. He picked up a couple of albums he already had like “Some Great Reward” and “Black Celebration” by Depeche Mode, just to have them in his car. Then he picked up the most recent album that he didn’t have yet, “Music for the Masses”. He of course picked up another copy of Tears for Fears’s album “Songs from the Big Chair”. He could never have too many copies of that one.

He picked up more from other greats like Duran Duran and INXS. A bit of Queen, too. But somehow he found his way to the metal section. He wasn’t sure if they had anything like Corroded Coffin. But he felt like it didn’t hurt to look.

That was when the clerk came up to him. He had ignored Steve while he was in the alt. rock section. And when he got closer Steve could see why. The kid was wearing a Megadeath t-shirt.

“Can I help you find something?” the kid, whose name according to the name tag was Aaron, asked in a sharp, nasally voice.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a smile. “I’m just getting into the metal scene. Can you help me find something similar to Corroded Coffin. I went to a concert of theirs recently and really liked it.”

The kid looked in his basket and sneered. “Maybe not spend so much on that kind of music for a start.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Who says these aren’t gifts?”

Aaron had the decency to grimace, but Steve pressed further. “Besides do you really want to dissuade me from spending a lot of money at your store, just because you don’t like my taste in music?”

This time the kid blanched. He cleared his throat. “So um...if you’re looking for stuff like Corroded Coffin, I recommend Dio, Iron Maiden and Metallica.”

Steve turned on his brightest customer service smile. “Thank you!”

He waited until the pimple pusher trotted off back to whatever fresh hell he had crawled from before he went looking for the guy’s recommendations. He picked a couple that looked interesting with the knowledge that if he liked them, he would come back for the others.

He made sure to pay with the black credit card with an evil grin. He watched the guy bag his tapes and brand new boombox flushed red from the embarrassment Steve was putting him through. It probably wouldn’t stop him from harassing customers in the future, but it was satisfying nonetheless.

He loaded his prizes into the passenger seat of his shiny new car and drove back to the hotel. He decided to take the stairs, he was just that over flowing with excitement.

Once in the hotel room, he set his prizes on the side table and flopped belly first on the bed, kicking off his shoes on the way. He picked up his phone and dialed Eddie. He figured it would go to voicemail but he couldn’t wait to tell him about how much he liked the car.

So he was surprised when Eddie picked up. “Hello?”

“Eddie!” Steve cried, rolling over on his back and twirling the cord around his finger. “I thought I was going to have to leave a message.”

“Hey, little Canary,” Eddie murmured warmly. “I just got back to the hotel after my sound check.”

“Lucky me,” Steve replied happily. “I love the car. It’s beautiful and amazing and while I want to say you didn’t have to do that, I don’t care. It’s an incredible gift.”

Eddie chuckled. “When I saw Sunbird I giggled like a school girl. I couldn’t pass it up. Made sure it was yellow and sent it over as soon as I could. I’m glad you like it baby.”

“Have you got my present yet?” Steve asked. It had been a couple of days since he sent it and was eaten up in curiosity on what he thought about it.”

“I have my mail here...” he said trailing off. “Let’s see here...Ah ha! I found it! From Steve Harrington.”

Steve could hear him open the box and dig through the paper he’d wrapped in to make sure it arrived safe. Then Eddie was laughing so hard.

“I can’t believe you sent me your fake ID,” Eddie said once he had stopped laughing. “That is hilarious. Thanks, babe. I love it. I’m going to take it with me for the rest of the tour.”

Steve couldn’t help but beam. He patted himself on the back for a job well done. He had gotten rid of the fake ID that got him into the bar like Monty and Hop wanted and he had gotten Eddie to laugh. Clearly a win/win.

“This way I won’t be tempted to do anything that would require an illegal ID,” Steve explained with a grin. “And you get a memento from our first meeting.”

“It’s perfect, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “I love your sense of humor and think once Chrissy sees what you sent me, she won’t be as grudging as she has been about us.”

Us.

Steve’s stomach erupted into butterflies at that thought. Like they meant something. Like they were something together.

He had no allusions that Eddie actually meant it that way, but still it was sweet to hear.

They talked for awhile longer. About the music Steve bought and how much he enjoyed listening to the Corroded Coffin stuff on the way to the music store.

Then it was time for Eddie get ready for the concert. “Don’t forget to eat, little Canary. I know we’ve been talking an awful long time. I want you taking care of yourself.”

Steve huffed. “I just don’t want to get fat.”

There was silence on the line for a moment and he worried Eddie was mad. He started chewing on his thumb nail in worry.

“Baby,” Eddie’s voice was soft and warm and it melted Steve’s insides. “You like going running and you go swimming all the time. The only way you’d gain weight is if you built up a shit ton of muscle. A little softness isn’t bad, okay? And if you’re worried about the new clothes you just bought, they having tailoring services where they can let out an inch or so if needed. Be gentle on yourself, little Canary.”

A tear slipped down his cheek. “You’re too good to me,” he whispered, his voice cracking from the emotion.

“Not possible, Stevie,” Eddie murmured. “I realize your parents are shitty and filled you up with all their shit opinions. It’s my job is to shovel all that out and fill it with as much good things as I can, okay?”

“Thank you, Eddie,” Steve said with a sniffle. He wiped his nose on his arm. What did he care, no one was there to see him and he planned on getting a shower while he waited for room service anyway. Consider it his first step of being gentler with himself.

“I’ve got to go, baby,” Eddie murmured. “But I’ll call tonight to sing you to sleep, alright?”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve agreed. They said their goodbyes and then hung up. Steve immediately called the front desk for dinner, ordering the biggest steak on the menu with mashed potatoes and creamed corn.

He hopped into the shower and just let the water wash over him. This really was the best part about living in the hotel. The constant hot water, the different jets that flowed water over his body, heated tiles. This really was the life.

It really was too bad it was temporary. He knew that once Eddie came back he would have to move, the dude was hardly going to pay for Steve to live in this swanky hotel for the rest of his life. But he was going to enjoy it while he could.

The steak was amazing as always, everything tasting like like it was dipped in butter. His mother would balk at the calories in the potatoes alone. But she wasn’t here now. And Steve was going to imagine Eddie flipping her off every time she became the voice inside his head telling him how worthless he was.

He spotted the truffle box and flipped it open. He only had two left so he called down to the front desk again.

“Marcella,” came the voice of the night desk lady. “How may I help you tonight?”

“Hi, Marcella,” Steve said brightly, “This is Steve Munson from room 2803 and I was wondering if you would be able to do me a favor. You see a good friend of mine sent me chocolates and I was wondering if they were from around here, or if he ordered them.”

“Of course, Mr. Munson,” she replied just as bright. “What is the name name of the company that sells them.”

Steve pursed his lips as he looked around the box for the answer. “Let’s see...yes! I’ve got it. Rene’s Chocolates.”

“One moment, please,” she hummed. A moment or two later, she came back. “It does look like they are a local Hawkins company. Would you like me to order you more or would like a brochure sent to you for you to order yourself?”

“The brochure for sure,” Steve said, “but can you also order six more of the raspberry truffles, too.”

Marcella laughed. “That good huh? Sure I’ll send up the brochure and order you more truffles. Is there anything else I can for for you tonight?”

“No, that’s everything, Marcella,” he replied. “Thank you!”

He hung up the phone and ran to jump on the bed. He flopped on it, spread eagle. He wasn’t under his parents roof anymore, he could whatever the hell he wanted. He got to his feet and started bouncing on the mattress. He flopped back onto the pillows with a giggle.

Steve jumped up and grabbed the box of truffles to finish them off while he was watching TV. He could watch whatever he wanted. So he settled for old Looney Tunes cartoons and the bottled soda from his mini fridge. Eddie had seen to the removal of the alcohol which had made Steve pout. He got not going out and buying booze, but to deny him so much as a mini vodka was cruel indeed.

Well not really, he had gone dry a few times. He didn’t need it to have fun, but with the clubs and bars closed to him, there really wasn’t anywhere he could go or do that wasn’t hanging out with a bunch of asshole teenagers.

Fuck.

He was actually lonely. He knew that he couldn’t call Eddie right now, because he was in the middle of a concert. No doubt with thousands of fans throwing themselves at his feet.

So he did what every self-respecting teenager with cable and a free hand does in that scenario he turned on porn.

He knew he wasn’t going to find gay porn. He wasn’t stupid. This was still Reagan’s America even if he wasn’t in office anymore. Bush was just as bad. But if he could find a blow job video then he could at least block out the chick.

With much frustration he only barely managed to find on where the girl wasn’t bouncing her tits while fucking herself on the dude’s cock. But he settled in to watch his crappy porn.

The dude was jacked and oiled to hell but Steve bit his lip as the dude on screen plowed into the actress. He was calling her all sorts of names and while that was usually a turn off for Steve, he allowed himself the fantasy of him saying those horrible things to Tommy as they had hate sex.

When he was done and he had come after a very valiant effort on his part. He realized he hadn’t thought about his ex boyfriend in days. Everyone else he’d called and reassured, but not Tommy. He assumed that Tommy had heard the news that he had been kicked out from their other ‘friends’.

Steve wondered if Tommy had even thought about him at any point since Mr. Harrington came home and found them fucking on the leather sofa. He knew he could just call him or even show up at his house, but he didn’t really care.

He cleaned up after himself and went to go get another shower just get off the all the greasy, uneasy feeling from his jerk session.

He got ready for bed, but stopped when it came to putting on the pajamas. He licked his lips slowly for a moment and then put the pajamas back in the drawers. Steve slid under the sheets in just his underwear, allowing the silky softness of the satin sheets caress his skin.

He didn’t even know what time it was, only that he was tired. He had had such an emotional day. High highs and low lows. He just needed to sleep. To rest. To take care of himself. Just like Eddie wanted.

~

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[lllunarair]

a jazzprowl playlist

high quality music for a high quality duo. the perfect playlist if you're planning to overthrow the government with the one mech you'd burn the world to ashes for.

best if listened to in order, but of course that's not mandatory!

🔥 — tracklist under the cut!

JAZZPROWL

“ * grabs your hand * no... WE are back on OUR bullshit. „

(23 songs, 1h37)

• play dead (just for tonight) — the messenger birds

• us and them — pink floyd

• barrel of a gun — depeche mode

• i was made for lovin' you — yungblud

• follow me down — the pretty reckless

• pedal pusher — dark stares

• sunburn — muse

• six blade knife — dire straits

• animals — muse

• english summer rain — placebo

• no more (this is the last time) — depeche mode

• beautiful james — placebo

• say when — they.

• doomsday — kasabian

• assassin — muse

• eez-eh — kasabian

• time in a bottle — yungblud

• aviation — the last shadow puppets

• dust devil — polyenso

• acid rain — lorn

• liquid state — muse

• mad love — the pretty reckless

• resistance — muse

[artist-beetle]

Beast Crime Family AU?

Hear me out here. So my mind has been rotating this since I can't post CRA for like another week or so and the drop of The Gaslight District Pilot. The Beasts in a crime family scenario, that works hits, heists, and play to their advantage.

Shadow Milk: The Boss, not expected to fight but has the brains and the presence to command the rest, whether because they respect Shamil's judgement (how I would write them) or because he's the one with the money and affluence.

Burning Spice: Muscle, protects the others and does a lot of heavy lifting and breaking. Finds the job fun, that's why he stays, or so he says.

Eternal Sugar: Intelligence/ Arms Expert, If they have to make a low-key hit, high society or not, she gets information and has the target dead before the sun can rise.

Silent Salt: Right Hand, Shamil's personal guard and right hand. They need to keep someone alive and get info? Salts is not a person for mercy but one of true patience.

Mystic Flour: Underground Doctor, if they need to collect a physical debt, she's the one working away at the victim. Has the most issue with the suffering they cause but doesn't take responsibility because her targets feel no pain during her procedures.

I know mafia/ crime family aus are kind of over done at this point, but just the idea of really makes me want to draw and write more to flush out these concepts. I'm the most shaky on Sugars role, cause I'm hesitant to make her a fem fatale just because she's a pretty pink lady, if anything due to her presumed ability to relax she may work better as a pusher, but also pretty pink with gun.

Also I don't know if it needs to be said but these guys would be in full irredeemable mode in this AU.

What do you all think? Overdone?

[ltechofficial]

I hope I didn’t read it wrong, but if there are Milspec OS, I am curious on how they behave or look compared to their office counterparts. Instead of a cheery office vibe is it like a snake ready to strike?

I think they'd have a range of personalities, but they'd definitely be able to snap into combat or other duty mode and behave like robots when needed. I'm not an expert of successfully pulling off leftist military fetishism so others can fill in the details. Some probably are sexy little paper pushers

[cookiesandcrumbs]

So, I've been thinking of how it could be interesting to see the inspo i used for my Spring collection. A lot of it comes from Talbots catalogues. Spring came from their 2019 June and May editions.

First one is the cover, the poses for the cover as well as several of the other poses inside the catalogue, were made by the ever so talented @someone-elsa! Thank you so much again!

Next is the pedal pusher pants. Not very similar, in fact, not similar at all. But it was merely the idea of pedal pusher pants. I pieced together at least two different diffuse maps as well as a nice texture i got from fuzzimo that i edited a bit.

After that we have the espadrilles. I even tried to recreate the overhead shot of deco versions of the shoes haha. Don't ask me if i still have the deco, i don't. I may have accidentally deleted it. It wasn't made for public consumption anyway, only for preview. I do still have the XCF for it however, if anyone is interested in that. Canvas and wicker textures came from brusheezy and sims 3 respectively.

Next up is the bermuda shorts. Technically the inspo isn't bermuda shorts but, the mesh i used is called bermuda so, that's how that came to be. I looked all over for a pattern that might look somewhat like the inspo but, ultimately failed. Which is fine! I opted for a texture called Elegant grid from transparenttextures. I made some various embossing and overlay editing to it and got this elevated layering look. I think it came out neat.

Now comes the mock-neck. I made the mock neck neck myself. I just, selected the neck edges and scaled a little and nudged and unwrapped and uv mapped it somewhere else lol. The button area was a major struggle. I had to find a button texture that looked similar enough, i tried many versions. It's mapped separately from the actual shoulder, too, so the edges are 'crisp'. Inside the XCF i shared, you can find a version to recolor it the opposite way, dark base with light stripes. THAT took ages, finding the best overlay modes and combinations of layers. But i did it! You're welcome!

Here we have the skirt. This was a fairly simple item yet, it took some time to blend textures and copy and paste and gradient mask and noise and such, to get this look. I'm not even exaggerating when i say i had to re-make it AT LEast 5 times, on both masculine and feminine models. The diffuse maps are different since the masculine skirt sits lower than the feminine diffuse map. Both textures also needed to look like it came from the same roll of fabric, so i had to re-do it several times if i made a mistake. But the result i think is great!

Last but not least is the dress. I'm excluding the jumpsuit since it's identical but, Pants. I made the marble texture myself. Came out quite nice, right? The XCF for these also include an option to hide the bow, should you want to recolor without the bow. But, if you do that, you need a normal map without a bow. Fear not, i got you. In the download for the XCFs, I've included a folder called Extras, with just that, extra normal maps for both the dress and jumpsuit, without the bow! You can also recolor it without the marble if you want. The normal map i made for the collection is a solid one so you don't need a different normal map for those.

And yeah, that's it!

[adorablegorilla]

Just matched with a person who was so good at Positional Football that I became completely humbled.

I thought I was at least OKAY at the game mode... I'd seen what people who had more investment and familiarity with Pushers like Weedy could do in it, and I had long since accepted that they were better than me. I knew that if I was smarter I could be using Muelsyse and Stainless way better. I knew all that. But this guy? They completely blew my mind.

Using Rope to pull the ball INTO the goal. Using Surtr to simultaneous break through barriers and push the ball in. And of course they had that funky Sniper Bunny that could push. More incredible was just how fast their thinking was. It wasn't just that they were smart with their operators, it was how fast they were able to figure out which ones to use for each stage configuration. I felt like I could barely keep up. They ended up carrying me to a record score 14. I had gotten to 12 before by getting carried by a good Weedy user, but in that match I at least felt I was contributing whenever they couldn't immediately score with Weedy. This time I feel like I barely existed.

Ray pfp guy, if you're out there, please take me on as your humble disciple

[duck-ducks]

Thomas rents a semi truck that he affectionately nicknames Dolly.

“Dolly” however, just so happens to be a very embarrassed, very unamused, undercover Optimus Prime.

 She was a beauty. 

Gleaming red paint, newish tires, and a cute face like decal on the steering wheel and grill. 

And now she was all Thomas Winston’s, for the short foreseeable future as she was a rental from the company he worked for and in fact they had insisted that he take the very nice and somewhat new looking truck for his next haul. For half the price he would have expected too.

Why they specifically wanted this truck to get a bunch of crates of rocks, who knew and honestly who cared. The engine ran nicely and she drove smooth as hell. Thomas wasn’t about to complain about the oddities a bunch of pencil pushers had about which trucks were to pick up some shiny rocks.

Getting on the highway this early ensured the road was damp and empty. That worked out pretty well for Thomas, he was quite fond of just driving on the open road with just he, himself, and him. The only sound being the engine running, the tires on the road and, the radio quietly playing some country song about how great red dresses and beer are. 

It was perfect.

Now all he needed was a name for the truck.

Thomas had nicknamed every truck he rented no matter how long he was in them, some little thing would stick out about the truck, the job, or just general events. Thus far the only thing was the insistence that this particular truck be taken on the haul but nothing nickname worthy so far.

He patted the steering wheel. “We’ll find something to call you, I'm sure.” 

The song on the radio ended and the host began talking way too excitedly for this early in the morning, just as he thought to change the station the next song began. A song he knew well, it was one of his daughter’s favorites, Jolene by Dolly Parton. Madeline was all grown up now but when she was little she would dance around the kitchen and living room with Sherry, the most beautiful woman in the world that he got to call his wife, while Dolly Parton played.

Dolly had first played first on a radio that had both cassette player and cd player while matching brunette heads twirled and hopped around and then later on an ipod speaker, some of that hair a little grayer and now on a bluetooth speaker that you can talk to, a single all gray head swayed and hummed. 

It was always Dolly that he would come home to then and after this haul was done he hoped it would be Dolly that he came home to now.

Jolene ended, and with a few words from the radio host played ‘here you come again.’ 

“Well how about that? You know this will be my last drive and I hope I’ll be hearing a lot more like this once I’m home more." The little face on the steering wheel didn’t look back at him. “Dolly is as good a name as any and you seem as good a truck.” and thus it was decided the pretty red truck would be Dolly.

~~~

 Optimus was not amused by this development.

He didn’t like that he needed a driver for the long drive. He didn’t like that none of the agents who knew what he was didn’t have the right license to drive him so that had to get someone else, which meant he would have to go the entire drive stuck in his alt mode and unable to talk, thankfully it could be made in one day.

To make matters even worse his high command had insisted he keep his internal comm on just in case something happened, so whoever was on monitor duty could hear everything that his driver said.

Including his delightful new nickname. 

He was unable to voice his annoyance while his driver was still around however he was currently working on a scathingly worded email to his two dear “friends.”

And because the universe would not grant Optimus any peace. “I ain’t making fun of you Prime, I mean I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings you’re just a purty little thin-” Ironhide wasn’t able to fully finish his remark before Ratchet silenced him via what Optimus hoped was a fist to the side of the head. “Hey! I thought medics weren’t allowed to cause harm!”

“Don't worry I’m sure the thickness of your helm will have protected you.” technically they were only supposed to contact Optimus if there was an emergency, but Ironhide as one of his oldest friends decided it was his duty to make fun of him whenever the chance was given. Ratchet was but an innocent bystander to the scoffery and was coming to his rescue- “Obviously you have to be careful with your words around someone as delicate as Dolly Prime.” Optimus could hear the laughter in Ratchet's voice.

“Dolly Prime, name granted to him by the great Thomas.” Ironhide never did know when to quit.

Optimus was tempted to end the open comm. Nothing was happening, it was early and dark and there was no danger. He could just reopen it if anything were to happen.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have sent him on his own. I mean I would be devastated if anything were to happen to our beloved Do-” 

His rationalization and the self preservation of his sanity won. He clicked the comm off.

~~~

 A couple hours later he and Dolly had arrived. 

The whole thing had seemed strange as soon as he had pulled into the parking lot. 

The place was creepy. Crates upon crates of these blue rocks sat inside the warehouse, various people in suits stood around by all the exits and a man in an even fancier suit had talked to Thomas while the crates were loaded onto Dolly. 

Fancy suit man had introduced himself as senior director Hendrickson, he didn't say what he was the director of but he had bought Thomas lunch from a local grocery store and asked that he not leave while the truck was loaded as they intended to be as fast as possible. 

Sitting a distance away he could see a couple people talking in the direction of Dolly. They didn’t look like they were talking to each other, they also didn’t look like they were interacting with each other at all, just talking at the truck.

~~~

 Being loaded was an uncomfortable affair. Humans tended to forget, even when talking to him, that he could feel every time they touched him. Most would step in little crevices to lift themselves onto Optimus, stack things unevenly, and tell him things he was certain they wouldn’t have told other humans. He was sure if they worked efficiently he could have been back on the road much faster but they insisted that their way of doing things was superior to any of his suggestions. Stubborn little things humans were, it was sometimes a blessing but currently a bit of a curse. 

Agent Fowler had not been assigned to this particular matter and that in of itself meant a little more discomfort for Optimus. Fowler was good at convincing his fellows to seriously consider Optimus’s opinions on the little matters. Such as not stepping on his tires to give themselves a little lift when he had foot holds for that very reason damn it. 

He knew this trip was important, he didn’t want to send only humans to deal with the energon collection. It was a bit unstable in its solid crystal form, should anything happen, such as the appearance of a decepticon, he would be more comfortable being able to handle it himself.

Having said that, He was not about to suddenly become fond of senior director Hendrickson putting his foot on the front of his grill. He was uncomfortable, he had dirt in his seams and he couldn’t talk louder than a whisper in fear that his driver would hear him. How much trouble would it bring if he told senior director Hendrickson off, if Optimus just told him where he could shove it. How much damage would that really do to human relations? The director has had to deal with the twins before, with Sunstreaker he knows how belligerent an annoyed cybertronian could be.

Thomas’s unimpressed voice stopped Optimus from making a minor mistake in mild enemy making.  “There's dirt on your boots. I don't want to return her all dirtied up.” Her, while Optimus still didn’t fully understand human gender customs he had become used to being referred to with masculine pronouns, It didn’t really make much of a difference to him besides straying from the usual. The way Thomas said ‘her’ was with an underlying fondness to it. He must say it a lot in a way that speaks of love without outright saying it. “I wouldn’t want to make a bad impression on anyone even if I wont see them again, and bringing back a truck with muddy footprints on the grill isn’t all that great of a thing to do now is it?” 

senior director Hendrickson sheepishly removed his shoe from Oprimus’s grill. Thoroughly chastised the man begrudgingly mumbled an apology only partially directed towards the one he had his gross shoe on.

Optimus would have liked to thank Thomas alas he was stuck playing an unliving truck. 

“Well Dolly, it is time to head back from whence we came.” Thomas patted his side as one would pat the shoulder of a friend. Optimus elected to not consider that he might have been patted like a dog. “Anything else I need to know about before I go?” He asked.

senior director Hendrickson shook his head and made his blessed exit. 

~~~

 Back on the road Thomas would put in his two cents that this drive back felt different. How so he didn’t quite know yet but he would figure it out before the end of this circuit. 

The radio was significantly less interesting now only playing obnoxious new age country that was teetering on the edge of becoming pop. it wasn’t the worst but now it was grating even after such a short time. The radio knob seemed a bit finicky when Thomas tried to turn it. It didn’t really turn like it should and it turned back almost immediately and hadn’t even changed the station at all. 

He took a moment to glare at the knob just to visually show his disappointment to the inanimate object before trying again to change the station. It changed to static and nice and smoothly as if it had been working the whole time, changed to some slow orchestral music.

It wasn’t the kind of music he would normally listen to but it was alright enough.

It certainly wasn’t, however, the kind of music that went with almost hitting a deer in a semi truck.

Which was what happened. 

A lone deer barreled into the road in the direct path of Dolly. Thomas was not going to be able to stop before he hit this deer. It was going to become a wet red smear on Dolly’s grill making much more of a mess than senior director Hendrickson’s shoe. Thomas in the short two seconds that he had to process and act to the deer had very few choices and no time to make said choices. 

The truck swerved. Thomas had not moved the steering wheel and the truck swerved, there was a loud clicking, metal on metal slid together moving apart and back together and a large hand extended from the passenger side pushing the ground to prevent the cab from tipping.

The deer continued running across the road disappearing into the woods on the other side. Dolly straightened out steadily, speeding back up to the speed limit.

“Oops.” the voice hadn’t been loud yet Thomas had heard it as if it had blared over the radio. The noncorporeal voice was not nearly as much a shock as the truck moving on its own.

Thomas no longer had his foot on the gas pedal. Dolly continued driving steadily down the road, thankfully there weren’t many others on the road at this time. 

Thomas was tense and unmoving. “This isn’t some bluetooth remote control shit is it?” it wasn’t really a question. Thomas wasn’t an expert on technology, he didn’t know the ins and outs of the internet or how coding worked, his daughter had to help him set up Sherry’s smart tv and despite having been there for the entirety of the set up he still didn’t fully understand how to use it. This he knew was not that kind of thing, this wasn’t something a human could make into a truck. What Dolly actually was he didn’t know, man made it surely wasn’t. “What are you?”

~~~

 What if he said nothing, what if he just dumped Thomas off on the side of the road and let senior director Hendrickson deal with the entire situation. It was an option. He could do that and just make a comm to headquarters letting the human department know where he had left the poor old man they had involved in this mess. 

Optimus wasn’t going to do that, it was a useless train of thought because Optimus was never one to let others deal with difficult situations if he was involved or could involve himself.

“My name is Optimus Prime. I am an autonomous robot from the planet Cybertron. I mean you no harm.” he had been told before that his usual introduction came on a little strong, nonetheless it was the quickest way to establish who and what he was.

“What the hell is an autonomous robot and why are you a truck?!” His “driver” was not understanding. Perhaps because Optimus was in his alt mode, the other humans had seen him in his bipedal form before he had explained what he was. That may have played a part in their understanding during the distress that is finding out about extraterrestrial beings that have taken harbor on their planet. 

“My name is Optimus Prime and I am an Autobot soldier who has taken refuge on your planet.” Thomas was making him nervous. He was slowly folding his arms and his face was turning from shock to a more stern anger. 

 A similarity between cybertron and earth is that on both planets the government really does ruin everything.

“I don't understand what you are,” Rude, what was there not to understand. “but you can move on your own so why am I here?” a reasonable question, even Optimus didn’t understand the humans insistence that he needed someone in his passenger seat. What was the point? He had been driving without one for years and never had any problems but then the government got involved and he was no longer “allowed” to drive on populated roads without a real human driver.

“I must apologize for startling you but the agency that I am harbored by insisted that I require a human driver.”

“Why didn’t they send someone who already knew about you?”

“They were unable to get somebody with a CDL license fast enough.” It was true. Apparently most of the agents with the licence were on either vacation or already away on assignment. Optimus had assumed incorrectly that they would leave him be for once but fate wasn’t that kind. 

Thomas started to relax. He sat back in Optimus's seat and looked around as if he was looking for oddities in the cab. “An alien robot. Huh.” he scoffed.”My last day working and I got the revelation that aliens exist. My daughter would love this.”

“I have found that many of our young human friends do find delight in the discovery of other living beings beyond their galaxy.” 

“Beyond our galaxy. Huh. you’re far from home aren't you?”

“Very. we are not quite sure where our planet resides now, it is dead and no longer in the orbit it once was.” Optimus had wondered before if humans could feel cybertronian fields or if they were just very perceptive. Cybertronians would act sad to show empathy but they didn’t truly feel the sadness they portrayed. Humans did, they would feel the emotion and confide in eachother with sharing experiences of the same or similar to the situation. The melancholy on Thomas’s face showed an understanding of some kind. He could tell that Thomas wanted to ask more about this, every human did they wanted to know about another planet and how one died.

“No, cybertronians have taken an array of different alt modes from land vehicles to air crafts as well as a few boats. We are a diverse transforming species. After arriving on your planet we took the form of non sentient vehicles to blend in and hide from our main enemies as well as any others who may want to cause us harm. Although we have made a many friends among your species, we have seen the cruelty of which humanity is capable.” 

“I take it by ‘we’ you mean there are more of you, are you all trucks?” It was said in good casual humor. A segue into a conversation less heavy was appreciated.

Thomas had many questions, many of which Optimus got to expound upon more than usual when it came to the introduction of other planetary life. 

It was calming, the frustration of the day melted away in the explanations of histories of his beloved planet and mechanical living technicalities. Even the traffic that had built was of no remark on Optimus’s now created good mood. 

Until.

“Ah, our drive is almost over.” It was a pity, Optimus was so enjoying the calm. Pulling into the driveway he reminded Thomas to put his hands back on his steering wheel. He’d prefer not to have to fill out the NDA paperwork. What would it hurt if one soon to be retired older man knew of his existence and he was already going to be in trouble about turning his comm off. Explaining the entirety of the situation to Thomas only made him laugh for a reason unknown to Optimus. 

Maybe a little louder than necessary. “I do believe me and Dolly had a mighty fine time.” He forgot about the nickname. And of course there was Ironhide slowly creeping his sorry aft into Optimus’s line of vision. Oh what's that? Ratchet just behind him why not. “Well Dolly! This is where we must part ways. It was a pleasure.” The bastard just patted him. Dog or friend he really wasn’t sure. 

Optimus should have just suffered through the paperwork.

 Maybe they would meet again one day, for now Thomas just wanted to get home to the most beautiful woman in the world who would be dancing around the kitchen to Dolly.

~~~

[automatonne]

Stuffing headcanons for Dilf Ape

I desire you carnally, ape man.

DILF APE STUFFING HCs

This bot is so very stressed. All the time. You know what stress isn’t terribly good for? Your waistline.

He’s not the type to stuff himself on purpose. In fact, it’s kind of hard to get him to sit down for a full meal because he’s always on the go, so to speak. He may have the occasional exploration day to try and bring his pressure down, but he’s far more concerned with making sure his friends are fueled up than himself.

The thing is, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t eat a ton… he’s a serial snacker.

Mindless eating is what gets to him. He always has a little something in his desk drawers. He might be carrying something around with him to munch on while he’s thinking or working.

So, on a particularly stressful day when he keeps reaching for the snacks to help him think, he’s talking to himself and trying to strategize when he burps mid-sentence. Chuckles sheepishly and excuses himself to nobody, but then he realizes… he feels really bloated.

Oops. He’s eaten himself into a paunch.

“…well, that’s just Prime…”

Fullness really slows him down. He has to kick back in a chair (like the complete dad he is), hand over his tight middle, asking himself why he’d let himself do that. That is, in the 30 seconds he’s conscious before he’s snoring like a lawnmower.

Funny thing is, as embarrassed as he is, if anyone calls him out on accidentally gorging himself, he’ll sheepishly own it.

“Guess I let it get away from me. Or my beast mode is more of a fuel guzzler than I thought.”

He is unamused when his friends have a few giggles at his rounder expense. (But a clever jab might have him begrudgingly chuckle along. He’s certainly not humorless.)

In a situation where he CAN relax and eat his fill, he’s a limit pusher but maybe doesn’t go full stuffing. He will, however, risk it all for dessert.

He’s such a dad. The wiggling fingers, “don’t mind if I do” kind of guy before snatching up the treat he wants. You know it’s true.

[qedmirage]

Chapter 14 awaits! Let's go go go!!! As ever, gameplay thoughts first and then story thoughts below the cut. Which means...first off, disappointment!

Up until 13-5 instead of new mechanics you're dealing with Londinium Second Defence Artillery again, my least favorite arc 2 mechanic! At least I have a lot of practice dealing with it now. It was just kinda disappointing to see it come back...in my head I know it allows for a few interesting ways to handle things as you deliberately cause blue-on-blue incidents (for them) but I've never liked how it seems like the targeting can switch last second because a single scrimblo touched your defender. Once past that though we get a new mechanic, centered around these guys:

Bloodborn Spawn and Blood Ambers are hilariously tuned to be countered by Hoederer exactly. But enjoyably there's a bunch of ways past them. For those not familiar, the spawn deal arts damage and lifesteal; they also deal increased damage the more of them a single target is blocking. That makes them really good at chewing through defenders and really awful at fighting Crushers exactly; their enormous HP pools mean they're the best at tanking these guys. When defeated, Spawn turn into Ambers, which have enormous defences (3k Def, 90 Res) and negative taunt. If they're within the range of a Bloodcalling Altar, they'll die and spawn a Bloodborn Spawn at the altar when it activates its skill (every 20 seconds). So, many stages revolve around managing this endless tide of respawning arts-damage scrubs. And enjoyably, there's a ton of ways to deal with them! Some examples: - Hoederer's True damage to burn down Ambers - Virtuosa S3 to necrosis-> True damage Ambers - Ceobe S2 Mod3; with 3k defence she does enormous damage to Ambers - Manticore + Ascalon, who can infinitely stall the respawning horde - Pushers or Pullers to shove Spawn into holes, preventing respawning And I'm sure there's more. This was also the first episode I played entirely on its Hard (Adverse) mode, and it was a fun experience, with only 2 or 3 stages (13-5,13-15,13-21) giving me enough trouble that I felt the need to refer to a guide for ideas. The TF2 bomb-pushing mechanic is incredibly funny ('so then I rammed a VBIED into him') and gives Marksmen a day in the sun as the game's gradually inflating defences slowly leaves them behind. I suspect Exusiai would actually be good at killing phase 2 of the episode boss, if you could time it so her skill activates after a bomb hits him. The other new enemies are interesting enough; special mention to the Fluxcaster, which slowly grinds down my Ambusher Stall strat; and the Boneguard Torturer, who gets you thinking about splitting enemies up or using truly insane numbers of DPS. The Welfare op, Delphine, is cool and one of the few I've leveled, though I'm a known Mystic Caster partisan. I wish her last talent was just an anti-sarkaz one instead of a chapter 13 only one, but alas. Her animations and art are great though, 6* levels of glam on a free 5*. On to the story below the cut. Spoilers abound!

There's a lot that happens in this one, so much that it's kinda hard to pull out a specific overarching thread - it's an ensemble story alright - but I'm gonna be my boring self and start with the milhist portion. Which is, the Victorian Dukes get owned. This whole chapter is a gradually escalating military disaster that will be taught in Columbian war colleges to illustrate the perils of divided command.

For four goddamn years the Dukes have been locked in a stalemate with the KMC and each other. In that time they failed to stop enemy resupply, they failed to exert tactical and strategic pressure on their foe, and they failed to even begin to understand their opponent's strategic and political goals. In the earlier conversations the dukes and their staff are focused mostly on their future wars with each other, not the present war with the Sarkaz. They underestimated their foe and they paid dearly for it; because they gave Theresis time, time enough to build an airship that could blow them up at his leisure, time enough to construct the Shard, time enough to organize and then transport the Nachzeherer Legions via the Lifebone. This isn't actually unrealistic, imo, there are plenty of people IRL who have been way dumber - look up the battle of Bien Dien Phu. But it's striking how much their political infighting cripples them. Even with Caster's intelligence network penetrating Londinium, the Victorian Dukes didn't grasp that Theresis was going to go on the offensive and had the capability to do so. They didn't manage to find the Lifebone and its logistic network before an entire legion had appeared past their interdiction. They didn't even grasp the tactics of the Sarkaz military, until after Theresis's offensive started. The time factor is also truly unforgiveable when you keep in mind a remark that 75% of their armies are conscripts. For people who aren't huge nerds, that means they've been redlining their economies to support field armies full of workers who go and sit in trenches and stare at the Sarkaz while fields and factories go untended back home. For four years! Meanwhile Theresis has been conserving his strength, and only pulls a full mobilization of his best soldiers from Kazdel when he's ready for the decisive moment. And when that decisive moment comes at the end of the chapter, he commits all his forces in a singular thrust. If the Victorian Dukes had done the same at any point in the preceding four years, they'd have taken heavy losses, they may have lost their lives to the next duke to roll in - but they'd been able to win, instead of ceding the strategic initiative to Theresis and letting him choose to fight only when he's sure he can succeed.

They should have listened to Windmere. Anyways, on to other things - the Lifebone!

I love The Lifebone. It's kinda funny how each arc 2 chapter seems to have Theresis get a new mystical superweapon, but in a fun break from pattern the focus for this chapter is... a logistics vessel! It's weird and fantastical and somebody cared about logistics, I love it. Skeleton whale that dives through history to teleport cargo? fuck yeah. Other story bits... It's cool to see Siege step up and become a leader, though it's kinda sad to see the Self-Salvation Corps implode to make room for her to do so. Still, the Exemplars are cool and it's nice to see them fight. I like Amiya's final showdown with the Sanguinarch:

That's our king! She's very fierce!!

I also love the Logos Trans moment ('I thought all banshees were supposed to be girls?' 'correct.' 'oh ok'). But don't forget that in the same scene, Logos flashes back to the first time he used his bone whistle to mark a passing - for himself, and for the old identity of the Sarkaz, just before he left home. Symbolism!

The lives of the Brentwood civilians under occupation, and the Sarkaz officer's attempts to make it better, really ring to historical incidents for me. Alas, the KMC was not aiming for occupation so much as annihilation. The Reunion stuff this chapter was good to see too, their focus on being an all-hands liberation movement really gets to the core of the story past all the wizard nonsense. Not sure what Nowell's doing with them, I guess we'll deal with him later.

[alarrytale]

Let me begin by saying I agree with most of what you say you’re a veteran and I still don’t know how you all have endured for so long, I’m not a vet but I’m also by far not a new fan. I apologize for the length in advance.

My thing is I think sometimes we all underestimate Louis’ ambition with the “he hates this, he doesn’t want that, he feels bad about this” personally I think he’s just as ambitious as anyone else. I think he’s seen the success the Harry (and yes I do think they’re together) and Niall have had and he wants that too, why not? Louis wrote the most amount of songs out of the 5 of them, major hits, great songs and he’s been pushed down, blocked, forced into a closet, had to change even his mannerisms and people actually think he isn’t looking at them and isn’t a little upset a little jealous? He’s seen his audience grow whether that’s from Larries or solos or antis, he’s used social media to his advantage because he really had no other way, a 5 hour meet and greet does more for him in the fandom and out of if than radioplay especially when teens get their hands on vids on tiktok. And the fact he will have a new album coming, priming the pump so to speak.

I think people need to reevaluate motives, does he care if he loses 100 Larries when 200 teens are behind them? Or they don’t listen to his songs intently or care if he’s closeted? Their fantasies bleed green money the same way as Larries do with an added bonus of them buying his het narrative and from his actions and the way they’re promoting him his onstage persona and offstage (you can actually tell from his hair and his stance when he’s in his ‘I’m a manly man totally het’ mode) it’s not going to change and not soon either.

The funniest thing I’ve heard people say is “Louis doesn’t want to play stadiums” when he played to how many people in Mexico for the Veeps show (his largest show what a surprise) he’s ambitious he’s been wronged he’s finally realizing he deserves success and he wants it and sure he’ll play the game he’ll do obvious set up meet and greets show a pic talk about the child make sure the totally cool and down to earth and so het “he obviously flirted with me” narrative is pushed. Yes there are contracts but it’s also obvious he also wants a narrative, what attracts more fans honey or being left open for abuse? Having a chance to meet him or being told you’re annoying or getting threats from other fans? While I agree some is definitely contractual he’s not too upset the het narrative is out there and it’s not he’s gay and in a long term relationship with Harry or any other man. He sings “7” and will sing “him” (while looking around most of the time, ever notice that) to placate but as his audience grows expect a lot less “proofs” and a lot more denials. And please it’s not that they need us less now actually they’d need us more when there literally is nothing for extended periods of time.

If he really felt bad he would say something about the nasty antis and solos who have contributed to him being labeled a homewrecker, cheater, homophobe and have posted totally over the top sexual posts about what they want to do to him and him to them, sleeping and let’s not forget the rumors of him sleeping with fans and other randos. Artists and musicians even closeted ones can call out the het pushers for their bad behavior and no one will think, oh my god he’s gay. HE wants it pushed and for a reason. Chris is a big pusher but he works for Louis. Louis says he’s the boss so which is it because I’m also not buying it can’t say one thing to them either.

And I really wouldn’t expect anything in India it’s the first time playing there but do expect many mentions of his “lad” and probably another Larrie smack too

Please know I’m not being antagonistic I just see him way more ambitious and calculating (not in a bad way he has to be) than some do

Hi, anon!

I think it's really hard to figure out what Louis wants. Because sometimes he says and does things that makes it seem like he wants to fill that stadium, wants to break new markets and gain new fans. But other times it seems like he's okay with playing for 2.5k in Indonesia, do a shot and forget a huge chunk of his lyrics, and wear a cap on stage because he couldn’t be bothered to style it. So his level of ambition, motivation and effort put in to raise his profile, gain fans and sell out venues is very unclear to me.

For someone with ambitions, i find L and his team very unprofessional. I also question why they don't jump on the chances they get.

Fans want a lot for Louis. They want him to become a mainstream artist, a charting, award-winning houshold name. At the same time Louis has said this;

Which people took to mean Louis redefining what success meant to him and being happy with doing what he loves without craving successful. So fans think he's happy playing to half filled venues, because he's doing what he wants and love to do.

Since he doesn’t want to fit that mold, get that hit song, dress to attract, keep his youthful looks etc. and do what's neccessary to succeed, fans think he's happy being himself and achieve mediocracy.

And about Louis not being too upset about the het narrative and that he would have said something to stop the hate from antis to larries. I think that's all down to the person you think Louis is, and how much agency you think he has to stop everything that's been done in his name. It's just doesn’t compute to me when you consider how god damn hard he and H both fought to sabotage their het narratives. If he were that ambitious and didn’t hate the het narrative, why don't go into PR relationship and actually act like you don’t hate it this time around. There's a reason why he hasn't got a beard/PR relationship for years.

[jackals-ships]

once again The Rituals,,

Your boy is sick. Which frankly ain't that surprising, you swear you look at em sideways and they end up with a cold. They spend a couple days grumblin about it and sleeping then bounce back into finding entirely new nerves to tap dance on the moment they feel better. (you'd think. after sweeps upon sweeps of this shit. they'd stop finding em. and yet.)

Even the bad ones don't usually have em in bed for more than a week. Where they intermittently hibernate and glare at you for the sin of, let you check your notes; breathing.

This one is…bad.

It started out small; Dog grumbled about a headache that just wouldn't quit. You'd told em same, damn bastard just wouldn't fuck off and it's been years. Took them a second to get it. The moment of realization was accompanied by repeatedly smacking between your horns as they tried not to laugh. This why nobody likes your ass Ampora!

Then it was a rasping cough that they waved you off about. Same with the sneezing you could hear across the damn ship. Keep lookin at me like that a man could think you were flipping diamonds here.

It was the lethargy that had you lookin at Dog even more sideways. Shore they always sleep a lot after a job, nesting in your bed and entering full corpse mode. (one time you spent several minutes just lifting and dropping their arm. dead to the world.) But it was lingering.

Even their snark lacked bite. Leaning against you with grumbles and half hearted insults. Like it took too much outta em to call you more than a bastard.

It was when they woke you up with a raging fever that you realized somethin was wrong wrong. Dog’s always been hot to the touch but this was almost painful levels.

Had you swearing as you woke em up, concern almost slipping into blind panic as they started whining at you. Repeated refrains of <hurts> that only stopped once you had em sleeping again. Aided by a heavy dose of painkillers and your hands on their throat, their chest, trying to cool em down even a lil.

It's been a few days since then, where Dog’s been mostly sleeping on and off. The few times they're awake you try and get em to drink water at the least. Getting them to eat is like pulling teeth, so you figure fuck it. Take whatever win you can get.

Anyways it's fine. You're fine. You're dealin with the whole situation just fine.

So long as everyone ignores the fact you're about to start chewing on the walls.

Because you. You keep gettin told Dog’s gonna be fine. By themself when they're with it enough to talk, voice gone all raspy. By your Ami who's makin sure you don't start actually eating the floor boards. Even by the fuckin clown.

But they look bad. They sound bad. They're hot to the touch and when they're awake they ain't themself. They're fuzzy and slow and you.

You can't make yourself believe that. You're hidin away even though you're pretty sure you can't get whatever they have. Because you can't. (can't decide if it'll be worse to watch em go or to go an check on em, finding their limbs cool as your own an)

You're dragged out of your thoughts by the sound of the door opening, a half snarl on your lips before you register it's Dog in the doorway. All wrapped up in your shirt like it's a blanket while sniffling something fierce at you when they should be sleeping.

“Dog-”

They cut you off with a mournful lil noise. Type you didn't know they could make. Type that has you on your feet before you're thinking consciously about it. “Sat-tii.”

Okay.

What the fuck is happening.

You have not the faintest clue what face you must've made at that because Dog bursts into tears. Oh fuck, oh shit, uh, uh. (bachus was gonna fucking kill you for makin em cry if your pusher didn't give out first.)

At least it spurs you into moving again, wrapping them up in your arms as you try to calm them down. Letting out soft rumbling croons as Dog makes the most pathetic little noises you've ever heard. “Shh, shh, hey, hey, none of that, shshsh.”

They're just crying harder. Hiccuping things that sound almost painful as they all but bury themself into your chest. “Sati. Satiii.” If you weren't worried about them dyin before now you're convinced they have to be.

“Shhh…shhh…’m right here. Hush. You're fine.” (“Hurts.”) “I knowwv. I knowwv.” They're going all limp boneless on you so you sink to the ground with em, tucking them up tightly against you. Purring and chittering seems to calm em down a little. Even more when you start rubbing your cheek on the top of their head.

It takes far longer than you'd like for them to calm back down. Back to damp sniffles as they push the top of your head against your neck in a weak headbutt. “I ‘on feel good.”

“No shit, you don't feel good dumbass-” Oh fuck your entire life they're tearing up at you again, you backpedal and nuzzle the top of their head. “Shsh. No more of that. Sorry, sorry, you're okay.”

“Mean. To me.” They're headbutting you again. Little thumps against your chest. “Sati. Mean. Not in. My room n being. Mean.” They're glaring at you before pressing back into your chest with a huff. “Cuddle. Bed. Now."

You're still all but vibrating with the fear of losing em but. The look Dog gives you plainly states you have no other choice unless you wanna make em start up again. And you're really not sure your pusher can take that much strain. “..okay. cuddles.”

In the end Dog does get better, even if it takes weeks longer than you'd thought. An you end up having to play the Get Your God Damn Idiot Bastard Back In Bed You're Still Sick game for the latter portion.

You, on the other hand, almost die.

It's silent. Dog almost but not quite asleep where they're curled up, breaths starting to come slower as you speak. “So. ‘Sati’ huh?”

They're back awake in an instant. All but shrieking as they try to strangle you, cackling as the two of you roll. “Shut up shut up shut up SHUT-”

"You like-"

"Saturn Ampora you finish that sentence there ain't gonna be enough of you to identify-"

(you wonder, on an idle scale, how pissy the clown is gonna be if you steal his moirail twice.)

[mjonthetrack]

vice queen II

Here comes Chapter 95 – “The Queenpin Returns” 👑🔫💍

The bunker was buzzing. Word traveled faster than bricks could move across the routes—Courtney Bishop was back.

It’d been a week since the drop gone wrong. Since the FaceTime where Zilla damn near lost his soul watching her bleed. Since he FaceTimed the crew the same night to tell them he was marrying her. And now?

Now she was here. Ring shining. Limping just barely. Moving like a woman who’d been to hell, won, and came back in heels.

Camille had barely looked up from the mission table when the doors clicked open, but Jimmy elbowed her with a quiet, “Yo,” just as all heads turned.

Courtney walked in like a movie reel in slow-mo.

Black blazer, fitted tee, and jeans loose enough to keep from pressing on her healing hip. Hair slicked into a bun, gold hoops catching the light, and on her hand? That ring. That fat, disrespectfully regal ring. Shimmering like it owned the place.

Zilla trailed a step behind her, fitted black on black, the unbothered storm to her calculated presence. His hand was on her waist like a silent dare: Try her. See what happens.

Camille’s brows shot up. “Oh, so y’all cute now?”

Courtney cracked a grin, slow and wolfish. “We been cute.”

Lo blinked like she couldn’t believe her eyes. “Is that what I think it is on your hand?”

Jey leaned forward, pointing. “That’s a ring. Like a real one.”

“Mmhm,” Courtney hummed, lifting her hand and letting the diamond catch the bunker lights. “Y’all can stop squinting.”

Sefa damn near choked on his protein bar. “Yo, she flexed that like a weapon—”

“She is a weapon,” Zilla muttered, guiding her to her seat with a steady palm before he took his own beside her. Like always. Only now, there was zero space between them. He didn’t give a fuck who was watching. Not anymore.

Courtney exhaled slowly as she sat, body clearly still healing but spirit untouched. “Let’s not make this a thing. I’m back, I’m fine, I’m breathing.”

“You got shot,” Camille reminded her flatly. “You bled out on FaceTime, Bish.”

“And?” Courtney smirked. “Still pretty. Still functioning. Let’s get into this Alvarez shit.”

Jey raised a brow. “Wait wait wait—are we not gonna talk about how Zilla dropped a marriage bomb on FaceTime like it was casual Tuesday?”

Zilla grunted. “Y’all act like I didn’t mean it.”

“You could’ve warned us, cousin!” Sefa added, gesturing wildly. “We were emotionally unprepared for you to go full husband mode.”

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, grinning like a dad watching the chaos. “I told y’all. When they locked in, they locked in.”

Camille folded her arms, eyes narrowed at the ring. “That the one you picked up with me two months ago?”

Zilla just smirked, never confirming, never denying. Courtney nudged him with her elbow. “So you been plotting on me, huh?”

He leaned in close, voice low, eyes burning into hers. “Since day one.”

Lo fake gagged. “Ew. Y’all in love. Gross.”

Sefa nodded solemnly. “Can’t believe Zilla Fatu got domesticated.”

Zilla just leaned back and kissed Courtney’s temple like he already won. Like nothing else mattered. And maybe it didn’t.

She was back.

Still dangerous. Still his. And now? His fiancée.

Chapter 96 – “Touch My Fiancée Again, I Dare You” 💍🔥💢

Courtney was mid-step coming back from the armory, limping just slightly but otherwise sharp as hell. She had her tablet in one hand, hair pulled up in a slick braid, vest open to give her some room to breathe. Still healing, still gorgeous, still the kind of woman who’d run you over and audit your books while doing it.

She was minding her business.

Emphasis on was.

“Damn, I didn’t know the Queenpin came with legs like that,” came the voice—young, cocky, too confident for someone new to the game.

She stopped, real slow.

Courtney turned her head like a horror movie villain—no expression at first, just those lashes and that one perfect eyebrow lifted. “Say that again?”

The runner—some little pusher named Dre, maybe?—grinned like he thought he was smooth. “I just meant, like, I can see why Fatu went ahead and cuffed you, but I don’t think he locking it down right, ‘cause if you were mine—”

She blinked.

Her whole body paused like she was buffering. Not even from rage��just sheer confusion at the audacity. She winced again, shifting her weight slightly to her good hip, then—

She smelled him.

That familiar blend of Dior Sauvage and menace.

Before she could even respond, she felt it: a heavy, warm hand sliding across the other side of her waist, fingers gripping her hip like they had GPS coordinates locked in. She didn’t even have to look. That touch? That grip? Zilla Fatu, baby.

Zilla was standing behind her now, leaned in close enough that his voice practically lived in her spine.

“You said what about my fiancée?” he asked, voice low and deadly calm.

Dre turned, eyes wide. “Yo, I ain’t know you was— I was just playing, bro, she walked by and—”

“Nah,” Zilla interrupted, smile tight, grip on Courtney’s waist unmoving. “You thought you could shoot your shot ‘cause she limpin’, huh? Thought cause she soft-spoken today, she soft in general?”

Courtney tilted her head, amused now. She was letting him have this moment. Her tablet was tucked under her arm and she had one hand resting on his forearm like, Handle it, baby.

Dre laughed nervously. “It was a compliment, OG.”

“You compliment your mother with that mouth?” Zilla asked, taking one casual step forward. Dre stumbled back into a crate. “Compliment your sister like that?”

“Nah, nah—”

“Right,” Zilla said, that single word sharp enough to draw blood. “So don’t ever in your life think it’s cute to disrespect mine.”

He didn’t yell. He didn’t flex. He didn’t even pull his gun.

But something about the way he stood—possessive, powerful, protective—made half the bunker go silent. A few runners in the corner quietly packed up and dipped. Camille, watching from surveillance, muttered “Dumbass” and shook her head.

Zilla leaned into Dre’s space one last time. “You ever look at her like that again, you won’t see anything else. You feel me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Cool. Now go find something productive to do with your broke-ass energy.”

Dre dipped like his shoes were on fire.

Courtney finally looked up at Zilla, lips twitching. “You really do get off on threatening men for me, huh?”

He smirked, eyes dropping to her mouth. “Not for you. Because of you. There’s a difference.”

She laughed softly and tilted her head back against his shoulder. “You gon’ carry me back to the office now or what?”

He slid his arm around her tighter. “Already had that planned, Bishop.”

And just like that, the Queenpin and her enforcer fiancé disappeared into the back—while the rest of the bunker sat in stunned silence and reevaluated every flirtatious thought they’d ever had.

Chapter 97 – “Jealousy Looks Good on You, Fatu”

The walk to their office was slow—not ‘cause Courtney needed help (though she was still healing), but because Zilla had her wrapped up in his arm like he was personally escorting royalty through the jungle. His big ass hand hadn’t left her hip since he pressed it there, and the way she leaned into him like they were in a romcom instead of a cartel bunker? Yeah. Yeah. It was sickening. It was perfect.

Courtney looked up at him as they got close to the door, a little smirk tugging at her lips, her eyes bright with mischief.

“So,” she said casually, “guess it’s good for him you came later than sooner.”

Zilla side-eyed her, grip on her hip tightening a fraction. “Why?”

She grinned wider. “’Cause he totally made a few comments on my ass. Said it was sittin’ just right in my bottoms.”

Zilla stopped walking.

Like—full stop. Mid-step. Door three feet away.

Courtney looked up at him innocently. “What?”

“Run that back?” His voice dropped an octave, heavy and sharp like it had razors tucked in the syllables.

Courtney leaned into him with a wicked grin, still limping slightly but glowing with pure chaotic joy. “Said my ass was sittin’ just right,” she repeated, slow and sweet. “Asked me if I was Dominican, then offered to ‘help me carry anything heavy’ with a real slick lil wink. Called me sunshine.”

Zilla’s jaw locked, eyes going nuclear.

His whole demeanor shifted—shoulders squared, nostrils flared, that thick vein in his neck starting to flex. You’d think someone threatened Maya the way his energy turned dark. “Sunshine?” he echoed like he was about to body a man through drywall.

“Mhm,” Courtney confirmed, just thriving off the rage building in him. She bit her lip, the smirk refusing to die. “Don’t worry though, I told him you’d rather kill him than let another man blink near me.”

“You damn right,” Zilla muttered, unlocking the office door so hard the key bent. “Where the fuck he at now?”

“Baby,” she purred as she tugged him inside and closed the door behind them, “relax. He dipped right after you showed up and grabbed me like a damn threat. Probably halfway back to his mama house.”

He growled low in his chest, pulling her close again, pressing her back to the wall just inside their office.

“You think this shit funny?” he asked, eyes scanning her face, jaw still clenched tight.

Courtney tilted her head and gave him the sweetest, most lethal smile he’d ever seen.

“I think you bein’ jealous makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside,” she teased, sliding her fingers under the hem of his shirt. “And kinda turned on, not gonna lie.”

Zilla kissed her then—hard, possessive, hungry. He didn’t care that she was healing, didn’t care that they were technically still working. All he cared about was the way she laughed against his mouth and clutched his shirt like she was just as gone over him as he was over her.

“You mine, Bishop,” he murmured, lips grazing her jaw now.

She whispered right back, “Been yours.”

Chapter 98 – “No Witnesses, No Problem”

They were supposed to be discussing the Alvarez problem. Routes. Strategy. Camille had even pinged their location twice in the system. But that was before Courtney grinned up at Zilla and said that runner was flirting with her.

Now?

Now Zilla’s hand was on her ass, his massive frame pressing her deeper into the wall like he was tryna make her a permanent part of it. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t stop him. Hell, she arched into his touch like she was trying to make his palm remember the exact curve it held.

The soft buzz of the bunker’s intercom kicked on with a crack. Jimmy’s voice came through with a lazy drawl:

“Ayo Z… y’all know the cameras are still on, right? Like—we can see you.”

Courtney froze. Zilla didn’t.

He pulled back just enough to glance at the camera in the upper corner of the room—dead center view of him caging her in, of her with one thigh hiked around his hip.

Without even a pause, he reached into the back of his waistband, pulled his glock with that signature silent precision—and pop! One single shot. The camera sparked and spun, glass raining in slow motion as it blinked out for good.

Courtney blinked.

“You—ZILLA.” she gasped between a laugh and a moan, hand smacking his chest. “You just—”

“Now they can’t see shit,” he muttered, low and growly, pressing back into her like the interruption was nothing but background noise. “What camera?”

Courtney cackled—one hand gripping his bicep, the other sliding into the back of his waistband where the heat of him met steel.

“You are so dramatic.”

“And you like that shit.” His voice dropped again, that deep gravel tone that sent shivers down her spine. “Don’t play.”

His lips crashed into hers again, hungrier now. His large hand moved down again, gripping her ass with a mean hold, pulling her flush into him. His rings cold against the fabric of her fitted pants. Her breath hitched again as her knee instinctively lifted, leg wrapping around his hip.

"You keep playin’ like that, Bishop," he rasped, biting her lower lip, "and we not makin' it to that Alvarez debrief."

Courtney grinned against his mouth, smug as hell. “Good. Let Camille and Jimmy handle it—they’re the married ones, right?”

Zilla groaned into her throat, dropping his forehead to hers, breathing her in like oxygen. “Nah. Not for long.”

That made her pause, just for a beat—her fingers tightening slightly on his sides.

He kissed her again before she could unpack that, just deep enough to promise more later. His hand didn’t move from her ass, and she didn’t ask it to.

Chapter 99 – “Guess Who’s Married, Bitches”

It was a regular ass Tuesday at the bunker.

Camille was in her office with Jimmy, sipping an iced tea and chewing on a pen cap while she clicked through surveillance footage from West and Eleventh. Jey and Lo were bickering in the hallway about why Lo had parked crooked again. Sefa was somewhere flexing in the mirror or flirting with someone’s cousin.

Then the alert went off in the group chat.

🔥CourtZ🔥 dropped two images in the thread:

A crisp-ass courthouse marriage certificate, signed and stamped.

A selfie of Zilla and Courtney, both holding up their ring fingers like they were flipping everybody off—matching matte black and platinum bands glinting, hers stacked with that massive black diamond engagement ring he’d snuck on her finger the week prior.

Jimmy: WHAT THE FUCK—

Camille: Are y’all deadass right now???

Jey: Did these two get MARRIED before me?! I’m callin God. This ghetto.

Sefa: Ayo but the rings go crazy, not gon hold you.

Jacob: y’all gone do a real wedding or y’all too hood for that now?

But none of them were ready for the real impact.

An hour later, the front doors to the bunker swung open like they were in a damn music video.

Courtney came in first—heels loud as ever, black power suit tailored to hell, hair laid, lips glossy, and energy immaculate.Her fingers were strategically placed in her afro-lace front, ring hand popping like a damn spotlight was on it.

Behind her? Zilla. In all black. Shades on indoors. Face blank like this wasn’t the most extra, Fatu-level dramatic thing he’d ever done. His hand rested lightly on the small of her back like she was his crown—and she was.

And in between them skipping like joy in human form?

Maya.

Matching all black. Mini leather jacket. Hair in puffs. Holding both their hands.

“Hi Auntie Cam! Hi Uncle Jimmy!” she beamed, showing off a sparkle clip on her tiny backpack.

Courtney winked as Camille stood slowly from the table, eyes narrowed.

“Oh yeah,” Courtney said smoothly, kissing Maya’s head. “By the way? Maya’s mine too. Government official and everything. Ain’t that right, baby?”

“Yes ma’am!” Maya giggled proudly. “Now I got a mommy and a daddy and Peaches. And I got a ring too!” She held up a chunky plastic ring from a vending machine, proud as hell.

Jimmy blinked.

Camille blinked.

Jey whispered, “These mfs done soft-launched a whole-ass family.”

Courtney leaned against Zilla, ring fingers up again with a smug ass grin. “We was bored. Had a Tuesday open.”

Zilla didn’t say shit. Just stood behind her with his arm around her waist, eyes sharp, lips in a half smirk.

“Any objections?” Courtney asked, sweetly fake. “Speak now, or forever keep my man’s name out your mouth.”

No one said a word.

Zilla kissed the side of her head and murmured, “Told you, Bishop. They ain't built like us.”

[dontcxckitup]

My favorite line from Daniel Craig as Bond, is "My God, you're thirsty at the moment," cause in my interpretation of him saying it and Fiennes' M immediately goes from boss mode telling the rules to his agent, to totally definsive in one second!! I wonder if Fiennes reprises his role as M, if there will be any more hints of him drinking like a fish to probably deal with some majorly hidden PTSD in a future film. Thoughts? Also luv your blog!

@saturntitan123

// Goodness, when I first saw the movie and he said that and M turned around to him, I was like, "Wow, now you're fucked, mate!" lmao I must be honest; I've been a James Bond fan since my wee childhood and am currently very sceptic of the franchise's future. Amazon is a horrible company and makes terrible movies and shows and I have little to no faith at all in them making the next James Bond movie - so I kind of hope they will re-cast M so I don't have to watch that shit show. At the same time, I do have faith in Barbara Broccoli (who has a huge say in it!), especially now since it came out that she's put her foot down to their bullshit. Sorry, I'm ranting haha

Anyway, yes, we need to know more about his M! I was a tiny bit peeved that he was in his office for the entire movie (except for that scene in Hammersmith) because we got so much action with him in the two previous movies! Dude is a soldier, not some pencil pusher (and certainly not a bureaucrat LOOKING AT YOU, 007!!). Just a teeny tiny bit more background story would be great. More information. A peek into his home. Just...anything that will stop me from constantly analysing every single frame of him in and every tiny photograph and painting and detail on his desk and in his office 😭

[harry--vincent]

◂◂ HV-PLAYLIST-09 ▸▸

[PLAYLIST]

TRACKLIST: Love in Real Time - Loathe, John Waugh Am I Free - Wax Tailor Supersoaker - Eartheater Transgender - Crystal Castles Femen - Crystal Castles Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away) - HEALTH Brutus - The Buttress Trust Fund - Llainwire PANIC!!! - Paris Texas owl effigy - Lil Darkie Pluto - Björk Lose My Breath - my bloody valentine Sacred (2006 Remaster) - Depeche Mode Kaleid (7'' Version) - Depeche Mode Cuts You Inside - House of Harm Let Me Go (Remastered 2006) - Heaven 17 Destroy! Destroy! Destroy! - GAUZE IS Leave You Far Behind - Lunatic Calm Silver Fawn (KAVARI Remix) - Ivy Hollivana Pitted - Pharmakon Perfection - Vosh Fur and Metal - Augustus Muller Come Closer - Boy Harsher Vitreum - Keluar Surface - Keluar San Juan Acid - American Matthew 4 Floors of Whores - Tzusing Desertion (Phase Fatale Remix) - The Soft Moon Litany Against Fear - Zheani Fear Is the Mind Killer - Zheani Whore of Babylon - Zheani Maggots - Ashnikko THE ANGEL IN THE SOUND - Banshee Reformed Hellraiser - Girl Pusher Hey - IC3PEAK Tears, pain and blood - IC3PEAK Sensory - Kill Alters Profiles - The Loop Orchestra Watch It Burn With Me - KAVARI Someone Loved It - KAVARI I want you to breathe - KAVARI Glass Comb - KAVARI

ARTWORK: Bespoke illustration graphic, overlaid onto captured imagery.

IMAGE SOURCE: Tree: IMG_3635.HEIC, base of a Pine Tree, Leigh Cliffs East, Leigh-on-Sea.

TYPEFACES: (Main) ‘Kern’ by Pizza Typefaces. (Glyphs) ‘Wingdings 3’ by Charles Bigelow and Kris Holmes.

LINK: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/59eb9QXiyemPdJck7ZeGsq?si=4728dac8ed424e1d

IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A circular sticker with a Scarlet Red star shape made of multiple converging lines on top of an image of a night-lit tree bark. On the top and bottom in a Sans-serif typeface that states ‘HV-PLAYLIST-09’. All on a Black background.