#what's up simpatico tag

[robot-thighs]

I definitely poured my heart and soul into a TF sex pollen fic. There's not enough simpatico content in the world, so I'm afraid I need to start cooking my own food. Here's a little piece - full fic is linked on ao3

-

“Brainstorm. How many times will it take before you—?”

Perceptor’s stern voice was cut off by the sensor-splitting wail of klaxons, punctuating the reprimand with the chaotic deployment of security protocols. Brainstorm sidestepped away from the wreckage of the current project on his workbench, coughing and sputtering smoke from his vents. Methodically, he grabbed the nearest extinguisher and sprayed the smoldering mess down, then quickly hit the switch for the ventilation hood. A miscalculation - but where? He stopped in the middle of the commotion to consider it, even as the overhead sirens filled the room with chaotic red noise. He’d looked at the equation dozens of times now. Hundreds, even. He couldn’t find a fault in his math. But predictably, despite his confidence, the material resonance converter had blown up in his face for the twelfth time. This had been the most spectacular one yet.

Perceptor had abandoned the chemical experiment at his workstation and moved quickly to one of the lab terminals to access the ship’s computer. The security blast doors lowered as he typed, sounding an ominous thud that undercut the sirens as they slammed shut outside the lab doors. His stance stiffened.

Brainstorm froze in dubiety. “What’d you close the blast doors for?”

“I didn’t.” Perceptor’s voice was sharp enough to cut above the alarm without really reaching the level of a yell, which Brainstorm found both breathtakingly hot and infuriatingly groundless. “I’m trying to disengage the security protocols, but the controls aren’t responding.”

Brainstorm cringed behind his mask and walked over to the terminal to loom at Perceptor’s shoulder. He lowered the sensitivity of his input volume but still put his hands over his audials as the alarm drilled into his processor. “Can you at least shut off the alarm?”

The look Perceptor turned on him was piercing enough to take a mech out halfway across the sector. Sufficiently chagrined, Brainstorm raised his hands in a disarmed gesture and backpedaled a step.

Perceptor resumed ticking at the console. Brainstorm almost had time to admire the collected concentration in his expression, the tiny pinch between his optical ridges that he totally didn’t think about kissing. Ever. Then the sirens finally stopped. Brainstorm cycled his optics as the red flashing subsided and the normal halogen lights of the lab came back in a harsh white. The sudden silence allowed him to let out a vent he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

His laugh was sheepish. Perceptor was still typing at the console, expression no less consternated than before. “Whew. Well that was bracing. I must have forgotten to carry a three somewhere.”

“I can’t seem to open the blast doors,” Perceptor said with a chill of irritation. “That protocol is not responding to my commands.”

“Huh.” Brainstorm’s wings tilted in some unspoken question. He turned back to his work bench and reluctantly started pulling at some of the broken components, privately sneering at the retardant foam that clung to the mess. He felt a pang of regret go through his spark. There wasn’t much here left to salvage. He’d probably be better off sweeping this entire mess into the trash. He peeled a blasted metal panel aside to find the wiring underneath completely scorched. Well, frag. The rest of his eventual reply came out snappish. “So what?”

“So, we are trapped in the lab until the blast doors open.”

“Can we override them from here?”

“I’ve tried.”

Brainstorm glanced over to find Perceptor giving the console a withering glare. “Do they time out or anything?”

Perceptor didn’t answer him. He touched the comm panel next to the door and spoke into it curtly. “Captains. We have a problem with the security system in the lab.”

An expectant moment passed. Brainstorm busied himself with scooping some of the mess off of his desk and into a waste bin. Then the comm crackled with a reply.

“Perceptor,” Megatron’s voice was colored with tinny apprehension over the speaker. “Is there a situation?”

“Not precisely.” Perceptor’s answer was measured with caution as he kept a hand pressed to the intercom panel. “There was…” He hesitated. Brainstorm craned slightly to catch his expression. “A minor incident, but I believe the security protocols were engaged erroneously. We have things under control, but the blast doors won’t respond to override commands on our end.”

“What were you guys doing in there, blowing stuff up?” Rodimus’s voice joined the comm, sounding farther away.

When Perceptor didn’t answer, Rodimus’s voice piped up again. “Oh shit, really?”

“The situation has been handled,” Perceptor said with a faint lash of irritation. “My more pressing concern at the moment is our ability to leave the lab.”

“We will have the security team investigate it,” Megatron cut in. “Will you be alright remaining in the lab until then?”

“No need to worry, captain.” Brainstorm maneuvered over to Perceptor’s side and raised his voice to the intercom, toweling a cloth over his hands to wipe away the retardant. “We’ve got plenty to keep us busy. Hell, we probably won’t even notice when the blast doors finally do open up. That’s how busy we are.”

[inchidentally]

because apparently I can't stop being weird ! 🫠

(this is completely shipping goggles off btw and with the assumption that there's no point theorizing about these men's actual sexualities since a)male sports and b)required travel to countries where the penalty for homosexuality is death/imprisonment.)

I kind of love that we're all picking up on something new and indefinable with Lando and Oscar and it makes our hearts do a little squeeze without fully knowing why. I'm basically finding myself repeating everyone else's tags on landoscar gifsets. and it made me think about why and how Lando has had two main support systems in terms of friendships up til now. there's the F1 alphas/extroverts and then there are his childhood besties.

F1

so like every guy or group of guys I've seen with Carlos somehow admit he's in the alpha position and rotate around him as the leader. it's very much like Daniel even though Carlos and Daniel aren't much alike outside of that (Daniel makes noise to be the leader, Carlos just exists as a leader). for an ambivert like Lando, Carlos and Daniel are great places to be when he's getting pulled under. they're typical straight alpha types who don't believe in getting stuck in their heads or feelings (Carlos' 'mental health' ad basically being go to the gym and stay productive to not feel sad lol) and they exist in a kind of nonstop monologue. so little Lando can just bob along in the current and know that he'll laugh and forget whatever ails him. very much like what he needed Carlos for after the Mexico race when he looked so drained and ended up magically chipper again in Brazil (in reality bc of friendship and not a solid dicking down as I have tagged in a lot of places). or that private plane ride with Daniel where Lando looked twelve years old and so happy. Lando clearly needs to feel small again sometimes and these are the guys who can do that.

Childhood

Max F obviously has that role of truth-telling and soul-baring that honestly I could see Lando not being able to live without. the friend/soulmate you can't hide anything from. I'm absolutely projecting at this point as someone who feels verrrry simpatico with Lando's personality (as we're allowed to see it) but having that person who can love you while being honest and real with you is so SO SO needed. but! there are times when it's too much and they know that you need to just float for a while. I feel like there's that core group of guys in the Max F circle who are all to different degrees like this with Lando. they're much more his equals in power dynamic too.

Oscah??

I think this is where Oscar exists in like a third, unexplored space. he's been caught in 4K as a Lando fanboy but he's also got sleepy cat personality so you can only tell from the internet evidence and from the way his eyes track Lando every time they're in the same rough vicinity that he's still fairly starstruck.

to me it's like Oscar hasn't quite shaken the norm of watching Lando on his phone screen and he almost forgets that he's supposed to be the one interacting with Lando in the challenges etc.

now if you've watched the Prema content on YT you'll know that Oscar, while still sleepy and placid, absolutely knew how to play up for social media content. sure the pressure wasn't that high and he'd known some of those boys for years by then. but his timing was solid and he adopted a sarcastic voice-of-reason role to bounce off the other guys. but what's so endearing about the McLaren content is that Oscar has basically positioned himself as guest star in the Lando Show. it's like he's so relieved at how good Lando is at media content that he spends a lot of his role in it watching what Lando is doing. I'm serious when I say it seems like he forgets he's not watching Lando on a screen like he always used to.

I do however think it's a confident and conscious decision that he made to not even bother trying to be another Carlos or Daniel - or to try and copy paste a little of the banter he'll have seen Lando have in Quadrant videos. I really love that Oscar's said you know what I'm being me and it so happens I'm nothing like those other people in Lando's content.

but !! you know who's personality and sense of humor Oscar most resembles? Max F. dry humor, sleepy but can get riled up and fun when they're feeling it. sort of fondly exasperated with Lando a lot of the time. I loved the stream of Max watching the Most Likely To with Lando and Oscar because he sided with Oscar so many times and appreciated Oscar bringing up the birthday issue.

and I think that's where for Lando he's still pretty damn thrown by Oscar - not in a bad way, just still uncertain. Oscar doesn't fit with Lando's extroverted F1 world. Oscar's plenty friendly with the rest of the grid (and obv Logan) but he's choosing to largely go under the radar and he runs his social media very lowkey even during some of the major highs he's had his rookie season. he's there to race F1 cars and when that's over he's got a very good brain in his head and plenty of options. he doesn't have the same insecurities that a lot of the drivers admit to having. Lando can't rely on Oscar being a typical F1 driver to understand him.

to finally come around to some kind of point I think what we're seeing is Lando and Oscar tiptoeing around a friendship that would probably develop very fast and easily if it weren't for the F1 pressure and expectations. we're seeing Lando unusually flustered by how easy he gets Oscar's attention and how he seemingly can't annoy or inadvertently piss off Oscar even if he tries to wind him up in videos or if he gets lost in admiration for his own trophy while Oscar shrugs off his own P14 finish and smiles at Lando. I genuinely think that level of undemanding affection has Lando sort of squirmy in an adorable way.

and Oscar clearly went into the personal side of his relationship to Lando of just enjoying whatever he gets and not trying to be someone he isn't. rookie seasons are already so pressure packed and the drama with Alpine followed by the rough start McLaren had won't have helped. he's just trying to do his job and prove his place and honestly isn't bothering to hide that he's baffled and flustered at finding himself interacting with Lando Norris the way Carlos Sainz and Daniel Ricciardo were. it's easier to just let people see that Lando can wrap him around his finger.

when all the time, if they'd met via Max F or mutual non-F1 friends, Oscar would fold right into Lando's group like butter on toast. I think that's what we pick up on with either or both of them getting shy and crushing on each other like new best friends at school. F1 has picked them up and put a camera on them and we're watching them slowly learn if it's okay to put an arm around each other or sit very close or touch the other person's hair. because they know this is very Real FriendTM friend potential and they don't want to spook each other and their feelings could so easily be hurt if they thought the other person didn't want to be friends as much or if they'd turn their back on them in front of their other friends.

they're not interacting as Typical Blokes by horseplay or teasing or being loud and they're not Just Guys Bein Dudes using humor and sarcasm to figure out the pecking order.

most of the time they're so shy or Lando's in a mood and Oscar finds it adorable and they're watching each other so closely the whole time like this and aauuuuhhggggg it's so vulnerable and sweet.

that's how it feels to me anyway and why I'm so ???!!! watching them interact. and sidenote I'm so so glad Oscar is so steady and can celebrate Lando no matter what. bc Lando admits he struggles with that in turn and after the many times it's been tested it's clearly never going to be something that breaks them before they can continue to get closer <3

[ilovespec]

Shark love~

yandere Fem ! gang leader × Civilian Fem ! reader.| part 2.

WARNING!!!: a small mention of trauma, obscene language , YANDERE IS A FUCKING GANG BOSS , Yandere has nerve problems , yandere and Y/N are female, illegal entry (into the apartment) , somnophilia (in the form of kisses and hugs without Y/N's consent) , drinking alcohol , yandere deceives Y/N .

part 1

part 3

6390 words.

It's been a month since Y/N moved to this city! Surprisingly, there were a lot of polite and nice people here... The salary was paid regularly... And there were even a lot of places to have fun! But every day she imagined two of these girls in turn.. Whom she met on her second day in this city... It was as if they were watching her ... Although it is possible that she is paranoid, or she is just tired at work...But lo! Today she had her well-deserved vacation!! And she decided to go to the club..

(Time skip)

It was already evening, and Y/N was standing at the mirror and applying light makeup.. She was wearing a beautiful black dress, just above the knee..and just in case, I took a small purse.. For money and phone. And after 15-20 minutes, she was already sitting in a taxi and driving to the club...

｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

And so, she has already arrived at the club and sat down at the bar...

- A strange-looking girl bartender : good-good night to you ~ cutie ~ what will you order?

The appearance of this bartender girl is very.. Unusual... She has tanned skin, curly GREEN hair, and a muscular build.. A scar on the right eyebrow, and a scar running through the upper and lower lip.. Black little earrings in the ears, and a black bandana on the head... Her name tag had the name "Erba" on it

-Y/N: beer for me, please..

And just as she was about to take her purse out of her purse, she was stopped by a large , calloused and tanned palm covered with scars..

- A familiar voice: and me, please.. "White Russian". I will pay for me, and for this simpatico coniglietto.

Y/N looked up... And I saw her "old friend" SQUALO!! She sat down on the chair to the left of Y/N as if nothing had happened, threw one hand behind her as if "hugging" her, and held her hand for a couple of seconds without letting Y/N get the money, and then let go of her wrist and paid to the bartender "Erba" in cash...Then, Squalo turned her attention to Y/N

-Squalo: haha~ how small the world is.. Good night to you, Y/N.

That night, Squalo was wearing a black sleeveless T-shirt, a black and white bandana on her head...Uh..a black and white tie with a shark print...? Okay..black trousers with a leather belt that had a plaque.. In the form of a shark, and also, she was wearing high, black leather lace-up boots. Squalo smiles toothily at Y/N, once again showing her terrifying teeth..

-Y/N: and good night to you too..Squalo..

-Squalo: Oh oh oh... Why are you talking to me like I'm 50 years old? I'm only 33 years old..

-Y/N: well... That's the point.. You are almost 10 years older than me..

Squalo laughs hoarsely.. Her laugh is quite intimidating.. And strangely, there were fewer people in the club when Squalo came..but nothing , maybe it 's just a coincidence ..Squalo gulped down her cocktail, and Y/N slowly drank her beer... Squalo waited for Y/N to finish her alcohol, AND TOOK HER HAND WITH THE WORDS

-Squalo: Dear Y/N~ let's go dance, huh?~

When they reached the dance floor, Squalo started dancing furiously.. And some strange , frenzied and loud music was playing in the background... and Y/N hesitantly connected to it...

｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

After dancing for QUITE a WHILE, they sat down to drink again... Squalo drank a little, and since Y/N had a vacation, she drank beer without limiting herself... Since she even forgot that Squalo pays for everything...

(Timeskip)

After a while... Y/N was already COMPLETELY drunk!! Her face was flushed like a tomato, and she no longer hesitated to joke, laugh and gently hold her hand, or hug Squalo (much to her delight) and so it went on... UNTIL LATE AT NIGHT FUCK!!! And finally, when it was about 4 a.m., Squalo gently put her hand on Y/N's shoulder

-Squalo: huh~ we had a lot of fun.. But I think it's time for us to go home, you need to call a taxi-

Squalo abruptly cut off her monologue as... Y/N fell on her breasts and passed out. Well... This will make Squalo's task easier! Now you don't have to secretly send your man to bring Y/N to her house! Squalo carefully, as if Y/N consisted of glass, picked her up in her arms , and looking at her lovingly went to the exit ,but her subordinate came up to her.

-Subordinate Squalo: Uh... boss... And why was it necessary to expel all drunks or people?. By "substances" from this club? Most of them were imprisoned for drunken brawl , drunk driving and other hooliganism!

SQUALO KICKED HER SUBORDINATE IN THE FACE, WHICH CAUSED HIM TO FALL WITH A BROKEN JAW AND NOSE !!

Squalo: don't make such a noise, bastard... Don't you see..? My darling is sleeping in my arms.. you don't even understand how fucking happy I am right now...

Squalo came out with Y/N in her arms, and got into her car, put Y/N in the seat next to her .

｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

After a while, they ended up in apartment Y/N.. and yes. Squalo has been here before, but Y/N didn't know about it.. Squalo went to Y/N's bedroom, put her on the bed and...she took her pajamas out of the closet, and changed her clothes because Y/N can't sleep in such a dress and heels. Then, she just put Y/N on the bed, lay down next to her and began gently kissing her skin, trying not to wake her up... Ha~.. Her angel's skin was so soft ~... Just as she thought..and then, she just She wrapped her muscular , rough and scarred arms, around her fragile little body . And hugging her, she fell asleep with her in her arms...

｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

The next morning...

Y/N woke up with a severe hangover.. And somehow she opened her eyes... huh?! Is she lying in her bed...?!!!?? AND SOMEONE 'S FUCKING HUGGING HER!!!!! Y/N turns in shock, and sees that Squalo is hugging her, and looks closely at Y/N, and when she saw that Y/N was looking at her, she smiles..

-Squalo: oh~ dear! You're already awake!!

Squalo kisses Y/N on the forehead..

-Y/N: ha..?

Y/N blushes.

-Y/N: why... why do you call me that...?

-Squalo: why do I call you that..? Don't you remember?!!? We started dating yesterday, honey~

(In Squalo's mind: I'd rather lie and be with my sweet angel~ !! Than I will bribe the cops so that I won't be imprisoned for illegal entry..)

Y/N blushes in shock, and the whole effect of the hangover is forgotten immediately, her face immediatelyIt took on a beetroot hue , and she buried her face in her lap

-Y/N muffled: how embarrassing....

Squalo laughs, gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen... And after 15 minutes he returns, TAKES Y/N LIKE A SACK OF POTATOES AND CARRIES IT TO THE KITCHEN!!! She sits her down on a chair, and puts a plate of food in front of her, and she goes to the balcony.. Probably to smoke...

-Squalo: Bon appetit, babygirl >3<

How do you like this part? I tried my best, lol >3<

about what kind of music was playing in the this club:

[iamdangerace]

5 to 10 Song Playlist Shuftle

I was tagged by @jaszczur-pank who is totally punk (na zawsze punk), to post the first 10 songs in my Repeat Playlist. Thanks for the tag, your songs are całkiem fajny sos koleś!

I was also tagged by @maldoror-est-mort to post a 5 song shuffle, but he actually posted a list of 10 amazing gut-punch, kick-you-in-the-balls (or ovaries) good songs (twice). Thanks dude.

As did @10paper20heart , so long ago, but I really enjoyed your songs too.

So 10 songs it is, but I'm just going to phone this in with a screenshot.

Despite the title, I don't make playlists. I usually listen to albums. But the AI knows what I listen to and she makes many playlists for my pleasure and amusement, that I sometimes listen to when I don't want to think too hard about what to listen to. This is apparently no. 3 for me. The songs are in a constant shuffle, random to me.

I tag @myfriendgoo94 @hannahcheeks & @dbeatcooper . We are musically somewhat simpatico.

I tag @ourladyofomega . Your music selections blow me away. No pressure. Just throw up some random songs, I'd like to hear them please. And @thedown5 , same.

I also tag @justmakesuresheeatsthemouse and @illustratedtourniquet because I'm addicted to your dark musical artistry.

[angela-thefandomgirl]

Hi! I just saw Discovery (Season 5) and there’s this new character that I’m obsessed with, Commander Rayner :) I won’t say anything about the plot, just in case you haven’t watched the season yet, but if you have, I need a fanfiction of him, because there’s NONE, and the man is SO HOT!!

Maybe a Rayner x Reader?? He’s kinda an asshole that only cares about the mission at hand, so maybe he’s being an asshole to the reader, and then she gets mad (or they, whatever you prefer) and he has to apologize?? I love a good groveling 🤭

I would love that! If you’re not comfortable writing this, then I completely understand, just ignore this request then.

But if you do write it, please tag me, I don’t want to miss it for anything in the world!!

Have a nice day!

Hi there, Am already writing fic as we speak, so there will be stuff coming up. I dont do character x reader work, I hardcore ship Rayner and Burnham. There is something about their simpatico and knowing what the other is saying even when those who know them longer don't, that warrents so fanfic exploration.

Keep an eye out on my Tumblr for more fic, there is a fic already there ready to be read (it does also need a little editing as we speak tho.

[chefbeepo]

Ignore if it’s been asked before, but I saw your hc post and brainstorm in the tags, so now I’m curious: what are some of your Brainstorm hcs? Brainstorm/Percy hcs welcome too, of course, because… y’know. Simpatico and all.

OOOOOOH I LOVE THIS QUESTION!

1. He for SURE listens to ELO. His fav is Last Train to London and he does a little shimmy lol. He do a little dance that may or may not be dangerous to do around a bunson burner and dangerous chemicals

2. He hops on a call with a friend for hours for getting they're there and hang up without warning lol

3. He wants to get struck by lightning someday.

4. Lives to make up bullshit "facts" And tell them to people. They just believe him too. Bonkers

5. Percy listens to classical (obv) and probably math rock. At first, Brainstorm hated it but now he kinda likes Edvard Greig, Tchaikovsky, Gustav Holst, Rachmaninoff and Debussy (can you tell I like classical music.)

6. He pretends to hate the majority of his friends, like Chromedome. He also pretended to hate Nautica but she didn't realize he was joking so now he has to "be nice" And tell his friends he loves them without saying "go to hell"

7. Despite being a mad scientist, I think he's sane. Like he's not crazy. He's just kinda bombastic ya know. A little bonkers, a lil wild. But he's not crazy. He's just autistic and adhd

[fascinationex]

I've been working on my November Comment Challenge this month! The rules I've made up for myself have been pretty simple, and are as follows:

1. One fic per comment per day

2. A total of 30 fics for November

3. I can fall behind but I should try to have 30 done by the 30th of November

4. I am posting in batches so I can say what the fic was and what I liked about it. The posts will be under #November Comment Challenge.

Week one:

01/11: "Quarter After One" by auri_mynonys

TF fandom, megop pairing, NSFW.

Rec it because: I love the weight of the history between Megatron and Optimus in this fic and I think it hits a lot great character beats.

02/11: "Kitty and the Stray" by Dark Star Of Chaos (DarkDecepticon)

TF fandom, SkyStar pairing, SFW.

Recommended to me on twitter recently. A peaceful, low stakes AU in which the characters are cats. Rec it because: just for the cute overload tbh.

03/11: "Personal Massager" by Neveralarch.

TF fandom, MegaStar & MegaTrine, NSFW. I read and commented on the first part of this funny and absurd porn much earlier, but this time I've read the second part.

Rec because: funny and ridiculous porn, but mind the tags.

04/11: "Cleaning Out the Rooms" by bitochondria.

Disco Elysium fandom, Kim/Harry.

Rec for: soft domestic fluffy stuff, but is really well executed. Amazing use of the game's skill voices mechanic to provide flavour for the narrative and characterisation depth.

05/11: "heart's still beating, guess I'm pretty lucky" by Sroloc_Elbisivni.

TF fandom, simpatico, SFW.

Rec for: I am a sucker for cute simpatico with dubious experiments. Cute simpatico make brain go vrrrm.

06/11: "Do What You Do 'Til Your Done" by Polyhexian.

TF fandom, CDRWBS, NSFW.

Rec for: it's kind of a relationship wish fulfilment vibe with a lot of pining and insecurity, and the story commits to that and does it well. I've been meaning to comment on it for a while.

07/11: "The Old Songs, Sung Again" by Helenadorf.

TF fandom, Tarnsaurus, SFW.

Rec for: highly creative blending of IDW DJD with G1/Victory shenanigans, which gives it an incredibly light tone more befitting that setting. ...Also rec for Tarn petting Tigerbreast, which is so cute it sniped me from the roofs.

[heresathreebee]

Safe Harbor

[Colonel Rick Flag X Reader]

Summary: I dunno happy valentine's day i guess i have no excuses Masterlist

Tags: 18+ | 6.5k words | swearing, hook up, pining/sexual tension, masterbation, semipublic sex, rough and unprotected sex, hurt/comfort, rather domestic ending. 

AN: unedited / no beta. like, like as soon as I wrote the last line i published this shit. Enjoy

Your little crush is getting out of hand. Imagine: you're on your back, one hand gripping the headboard, the other scoring deep welts into the back of the man rutting between your legs. You squeeze your eyes tightly and picture golden locks dangling over his sweat covered forehead as he drives his cock into you with a pace that drives the air out of your lungs. You wrap your legs around the Colonel's hips and just as you're about to– 

Suddenly the rutting stops and your partner lets out a harsh grunt. "God damn it, Elliot!!!" 

The fantasy in your head dissolves into the color red and you glare menacingly at the guy who was actually doing the fucking, who had once again finished too fucking soon. 

"Sorry, sorry," he sits up and winces as the scratches in his back pull, "you were just screaming and I couldn't hold off anymore–" 

You resist the urge to plant your feet on his chest and fling him off of your bed. "Once is an accident. You do this every time." 

Why do you keep inviting him over? His name in on your contacts is literally Idiot Elliot?! You hate him… but it's probably because he's the only person that fucks you close to the way you imagine Rick Flag would do it… 

"Jesus, just get out," you growl and hide in the bathroom to cool down. 

You use the toilet and clean up, too pissed off to even try touching yourself. When you desperately need water, you step out and find that asshole has discarded his spent condom on your floor. Ok, he is never allowed back. 

You waddle into your kitchen with your phone in hand and straight block his number. You're not looking forward to carrying this ehm voracious appetite into work tomorrow. But the weekend must come to a close, and so you find another Monday spent trying to keep busy in places where the object of your every desire is not wandering until he leaves for his next mission. 

This work week is supposed to be a short one: just the expected length of the mission and then Thursday becomes your new Friday. You still only get two days to recover before it's back to the grind on Sunday, but a break is a break and you'll take what you can get these days. 

Waller puts out the final call on your communicator and youriush to take your seat at your computer. John Economos adjusted his glasses and leans so far back into his chair that it squeaks. 

"Twenty bucks says Javelin dies," he whispers. 

"Just twenty?" You're a bit preoccupied trying to log into your dumb device. "Who's Javelin?" 

"He's the guy with the Javelin," Emilia replies. 

"Bitch," you tease. 

"Whore," she quips right back. "I got eighty on Flag biting it." 

Both you and John whip around in your seats and scream, "WHAT?!?" 

"Keep it down!" Waller looks furious that your shouting has interrupted her… standing in the room menacingly…? 

"Never, ever bet on Flag." You and John share a simpatico look as you both agree. Flag always comes back alive. Always. 

Nevertheless, despite your deep conviction, there is a part of you that worries. It starts as a small seed on the first day that grows and grows as time passes, taking root in that central organ in your chest and branching outwards, invading your lungs and twisting knots into your stomach. The task force was having a lot of close calls. No deaths yet, but that just made you more nervous. 

On the last day of the mission, your nerves are frazzled. You feel like you were dumped into a vat full of electric eels while wearing a suit of armor. You know Emilia didn't mean anything by it but you feel like she's fucking jinxing it. 

The first sense of relief you are given is when three squaddies die in a firefight– none of them are Flag. The death pool is updated on the sly (in a secure group chat), and it gives you some sense of enjoyment to know you were the reason John lost $200 instead of $20 when Javelin also survives. 

Flo drags you out to the bathroom with the other women and sits you down with a mountain of food from the only Japanese place that does delivery in Louisiana. It does make you feel a little better, but you're still fidgety. 

"On your right, Flag," you open your comm line, "that hallway has an office break room." 

Out on the field, Rick smiles to himself. He catches your meaning– the squad hasn't eaten since they left the city– and there could be food. 

"Thanks, Gabriel." 

"Gabriel?" 

"Yeah, like the angel? My guiding light," he responds, and gestures to the squad to search the area. 

You smile to yourself and ignore the rolling eyes across the room. You know none of them actually know about your crush because they simply do not care enough to notice. The only time tech team had ever been forced to consider Colonel Flag's romantic/sexual life was when he was with Dr. Moon– and that had ended abruptly. 

You'll be glad when he's on a carrier home. The end of the mission cannot come soon enough, and once Rick and the remaining members of Task Force X are on their way home, the tech team passes around a few high fives and a lot of cash. 

"That eighty down the drain, huh Harcourt," you bump shoulders with her as she collects her winnings for 'Condiment King gets blown to smithereens.' 

Emilia shrugs, and without looking up, replies, "I didn't actually think he would kick the bucket, I was just mad at him." 

You pull a face, then realize she was serious. "Damn, well remind me never to get on your bad side." 

That's when Dale leaned over to grab his sizable cash stack from Flo and he grumbled, "he just used her coffee mug…" 

Your eyes flick to Emilia but she doesn't even flinch. A cold shiver runs over your spine. Hopefully this white girl does not believe in witchcraft or voodoo because it is easy to get on her bad side. 

The second the pool was empty, everybody who could head home did. You were one of the few with some side work to close out but you were thankful for the nearly empty, Waller free office space now. John was only there for another hour to update his Neopets before he went home, and soon it was only you. 

You and your inappropriate thoughts. 

Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you? You only just found out Flag was going to make it back in one piece and you're already thinking about him forcing you to your knees and slobbering over his dick. Could your pussy maybe, like, chill for ten minutes? 

Apparently not as you have to squeeze your thighs together the second you switch on the live camera feed from the helicarrier. The Colonel was making the rounds, passing out items from the fat first aid kit on board and checking on an unconscious Captain Boomerang. He sat himself down in the perfect position to be close if Boomerang needed medical attention and keep an eye on the rest of the squad. 

He looked delicious with his foot up on the seat, legs spread like some asshole on the subway, and eyes hardened. Clearly still in Mission Mode, and you know he won't experience a modicum of peace until everyone of those prisoners is back behind bars. Is that a conveniently placed fold in his pants, or could you see the outline of his actual dick? 

"Jesus H Christ– " 

You fly out of your seat and pat yourself down. You take deep, circular motion breaths as you try desperately to back pedal down the road you've gone. The overwhelming electricity that had been coursing through your body the past few days was back, but it this time it was warm and concentrated but still wild. 

You need to take control, grab the reins while you still have some sense in you. You're going to have to rub this one out… 

You force your feet to take you away from the edge of your backroom desk and out into the hall. You skip the nearest bathrooms because they're filthy and practically jog to the second nearest. Tumbling into a stall, you're already pushing the cups of your bra up and shoving your pants down enough to fit your hand where you need it. Images of Rick Flag caked in mud and blood, tac suit ragged, fraying, full of holes, eyes blazing hot hazel irons– 

You bite into your hand to muffle your groan as you plunge two fingers into your soaked entrance. It's too much and not enough at the same time, you just know Rick's hands would be calloused and nails blunt to keep from biting. God, his hands are huge! Having those big meaty paws twisting your clit and getting soaked in your channel as he searches for that spot that makes you dizzy– 

You're savage little game is interrupted by a loud bang as the door is kicked open and a cacophony of giggles and chatter abruptly puts and end to your rising climax. You freeze in place, thinking quickly and pushing your pants further down to sit on the toilet before someone bursts through the door. 

"OH SORRY– " Emilia shouts at you before backing away and laughing with the other women who had clearly gotten into the liquor cabinet. You slam the door closed after her and curse yourself for not locking it. At least it seems she believed you were using the toilet and not fingering yourself at work, so there's that… 

After a few awkward hellos and goodbyes and some mandatory clean up, you stomp off to your desk, still frustrated but not as distracted as before. You have no choice but to jump back on your paperwork– at least if you finish it tonight, you can guarantee not being chewed out after your 2-day weekend. It's nearly midnight as you shut your computer down and head for the small gym to work off the rest of your frustration. 

~ 

You slip into some gym clothes– not always a fan of the tight, body contoured pants, but it's all you have in your locker tonight. You are well aware the Task Force was back and part of Flag's post-mission routine involved a shower and workout, but you tried not to make your life revolve around how much you want to fuck your coworker. 

To put it frankly, you're bone tired. These past five days have been kind of shit, you just want to go home and pamper yourself. Maybe you'll start a home project you'll never finish. It's more realistic than your coworker blowing your back out, anyways. 

The gym is empty except for him. Flag is just finishing a set on some contraption you've certainly never used before and he smiles as he makes eye contact with you. 

"Well, well, well." He drops to the floor and swipes his shirt from the bench. "Fancy meeting you here." 

"Nice to see you too, Flag." You start up a treadmill and break out your earphones. "You should be heading home by now. I'd say you've earned it." 

Flag– he has asked you to call him Rick at least a hundred times if he's asked you once– leans those big biceps on the handrail of your machine and shrugs. "Doesn't matter. I won't get much sleep either way."

You don't ask him what he means because you know every death on a mission, no matter how awful the person was, weighs heavily on him. He's got an apartment nearer to town he uses more like a storage. You know he'll just end up sleeping in his lousy accommodations here, on the prison premises. They're obviously better than the conditions of the prison cells, but they're still shit. 

Rick returns to his set on a different machine and you two dance around each other with ease and familiarity. Despite your seemingly uncontrollable infatuation, you somehow manage to pull yourself together and act like a normal human being in his presence. Perhaps it is because whenever he is physically here, standing in your presence, the visage of a bodice ripping fiction gives way to the complex reality of the real human man before you. This Rick Flag has known joy, loss, apathy, heartache, love, boredom, pain. He has his own favorite beverage and sleeping position and pastimes other than fucking you silly like the Rick Flag in your head does. 

While you're between sets prepping for the last, you hear Rick call your name over the sound of the Commodores. You pull out an earphone and cock your hip. 

"Can you spot me?" 

You look between him and the bar he has already packed some weights on. "Sure." 

You stand and wait at the head of the bench while he lays down to begin. The shirt tucked into the waist of his basketball shorts is ready to fall at any moment and his socks are high on his calf. The rest of his body is glistening with sweat and he looks good like that. 

This close, you can definitely smell him and the pauper's shower he probably took when he got back to Belle Reve. The kind of shower where you're in a hurry, in and out, no messing about. They're not your favorite– you prefer to bask after a long day of work be it shower or bath. 

You shake yourself just a bit to focus up– you're supposed to be spotting after all. Instead of keeping count that you would already be behind on, you admire his taut but soft stomach, the curve of his arms, the tightness of his grip on the bar. Damn, dude is benching your fucking weigh, maybe more! 

Rick replaces the bar on the rack– your hands barely graze his, too late to offer any assistance. 

He's chuckling and looking up at you. "You know, a good spotter is supposed to be paying attention." 

Well fuck, idiot, you got caught ogling him in the most obvious position. So much for keeping things reigned in. 

You shrug a shoulder and fold your arms. "You look like you had it under control…" 

Your face trails off as he stands and towers over you. It's almost primal, the surge that passes up your stomach and makes you tingle all over. His hair falls into his eyes and reminds you of your favorite fantasy. 

Rick smiles almost like he knows what he's doing to you. "Ok." 

But the man cannot be completely aware of your desires because he immediately walks away, throwing a towel over his shoulder and shouting, "probably time you headed home for the night. See you Sunday." 

You do as you are told and skip your cool down stretches for once. You're not feeling tired quite yet, but you know what will help you unwind and you are itching to go home. However, the promise of comfort does not overtake a feeling that you cannot leave Rick tonight. 

You saw the linger haunted look in his eyes. Though you're not certain what parts of the mission are sticking with him, you are nonetheless certain that his usual routine is not going to offer him the peace that he needs or deserves. And perhaps it is a little wistfully selfish to want to provide that peace for him. 

So after your own rushed, militant shower, you wait for him in the hall. Rick is surprised to see you but recognizes the way you are leaning against the wall means you were waiting for him. 

"Need a ride home?" 

You don't, but it is an inexplicable opportunity to move your little scheme forward. "Yeah. You mind?" 

Rick trots into the parking garage with ease, his lengthy stride keeping him forever a few steps ahead of you, but he slows enough so as not to lose you. It's almost as if he is intentionally keeping his distance from you, and you're curious to find out why. 

"Got a hot date?," you ask teasingly. 

"No," he chuckles, "you?" 

"Only with a bubble bath and some clean sheets." 

Rick's laugh echoes deep in the empty garage. Aside from a few work vehicles, the only other car in here is Rick's jeep. He looks back at you and asks, "how did you get here?" 

"My car, it's just parked 6 blocks west." 

There's no mistaking the protective, concerned look that flashes across his face. 6 blocks east is a glowing city, not the safest place in the world but it has light. 6 blocks west is nothing but farmland and a mile between each street light. You had run out of gas yet again and had had to walk the last mile and a half to the prison. 

"Alright hop in," he says. 

You stop in the pool of warm yellow lights from the front of the car. Rick raises an eyebrow at you from behind the wheel but when you don't budge, he sighs and gets back out. 

"Is there a problem?" 

"You're not going to go home, are you?" 

Rick is taken aback by the question. You know he needs sleep. You know he needs something more than four walls and a roof, more than scratchy fleece blankets and MRIs to kick this little funk that he was in. And most importantly, you know he won't change his routine unless you make him. 

Rick scratches the back of his head and keeps his eyes on the floor. "I'll be fine, you don't have to worry about me, honestly." 

"I saw you looking at my butt. Do you like my new pants?" 

At this admission, Rick flushes deep pink. You had not actually caught him doing it, but sometimes even you couldn't help but admire your lower half in the fit of your workout pants. You take a few calculated steps towards him and are impressed he doesn't take one backwards despite the sheepish look about his face. 

"I know you stayed an extra hour longer than you usually do in the gym," you continue. "You should be ready to drop dead after everything you've been through, and yet you still don't look like you'll be able to sleep a wink tonight or tomorrow." 

Rick's brow furrows and you double down. "You need to relax– I mean truly relax. Step outside of your professional persona, be a person for a little while." 

The Colonel gives you a helpless look. Your hands twitch on your arms and you seize the involuntary movement to force a follow through. And while in your head you scream 'what the fuck am I doing,' you wrap your arms around Rick's waist and hug him. 

It's awkward. Unprofessional. Rick Flag does not hug you back and it's a little mortifying. You smooth your hands over his dry shirt and pull away from his body but not going far. It takes every ounce of control you have to squash down the bile rising in your throat and find your voice. 

"Fuck me," you demand. 

Rick squeaks. You can feel the muscles of his torso flex as his entire body goes rigid. Before he can collect himself, you keep digging that hole. 

"Right here. Right on the hood of your car." 

You slide around him and hop on the hood and sit, leaning back to feign nonchalance and wait for his brain to catch up. You even spread your legs and offer further invitation as Rick slowly, slowly turns around to stare at you in disbelief. 

You swallow. While waiting for him to respond, your mind supplies the kindest version of a rejection he might offer. One where he gently helps you down from atop his car and drives you home in pure silence. One where neither of you are able to look each other in the eye for months. 

You jump when you feel big, warm hands sliding up your thighs from your knees. When your eyes refocus, Rick takes your breath away– literally– by slamming his mouth into yours. You groan and tangle your fingers in his arm to keep him from pulling away. 

Rick kisses you hungrily, one of his wide palms presses flat to the small of your back and forces your hips forward so he can rut against you, already starting to harden. He's on you like butter on toast except rough, teeth digging into your bottom lip momentarily before he pushes you flat on your back, rolling his hard-on harder into the apex of your thighs. 

Rick groans with such a deep sound you can feel it between your legs and your slick is already soaking through your underwear and your pants. You gasp wantonly as Rick leans down and bites your breast through your sports bra before his face returns to yours and Rick's hot tongue drags over your face from chin to nose. 

"I don't have a condom," he pants suddenly. 

Your brain supplies nothing but static noise and you wrap your legs more purposefully around his hips. 

"Just promise you'll still come inside me, Rick," you whisper against his mouth. 

Again Rick slams his mouth into yours and one of his hands wraps around your throat in a controlling move. Once you're breathless again, Rick pulls away and rips your pants down your legs. You can hear the seams stretching and crying for help and it only serves to make you wetter. Rick helps you roll onto your stomach and your muscles tighten, anticipating the ride of your life. 

At long last, Rick slips those dreamy thick fingers into your pussy down to the knuckle and groans in approval. "Fuck, fuck… y/n…"

Thank god you were fucking with your big boy dildo recently because Rick is particularly too impatient to stretch you open and apparently thicker than you ever thought possible for a real human man. You hiss and tense, trying to relax as he sinks into you slowly, taking as much as you can until he finally bottoms out and nearly falls on top of you. 

"Holy fuck, darlin'," Rick gasps, "wasn't sure you were gonna be able to take me but fuck, it's like you were made just for me, weren't you?" 

You open your mouth to make a smart retort but instead you just drool on the hood of his car. The metal beneath you is cold since the engine isn't running and it makes your nipples harden. Despite Rick's primal attitude, he manages to give you a moment to adjust to his size so he doesn't actually end up hurting you. He wait and waits until you whine and try to fuck yourself on his cock before he finally starts to move. 

It's like everything you've ever dreamed and so much better also. Rick has a hand on your throat again and his thrusts are powerful, sending your hips crashing into the car so you know you'll have bruises when this is over. He's hitting it from the back with so much force, you can't even brace your feet against the bumper, and you kick almost helplessly. 

With every thrust accompanies a dark symphony of grunts from your voracious partner, and the slap of skin on skin echoes with a decidedly damp quality. Hot breath fans over your shoulder blades and Rick praises you for being a good girl which makes your pussy clench around his length. 

"So good," he purrs, "take everything I'm giving you. Think you wanted this all along, too, huh darlin'?" 

Your hands grasp the one he has planted on your throat, and for a second he tries to let you go but your fingers tighten and press his palm back where it was in encouragement. Rick takes the hint and puts real pressure on your neck, squeezing lightly into your jugular and restricting the blood flow in a way that makes you see stars without passing out. 

Any amount of time could have passed be it minutes, seconds, or hours and you would thank him for taking you to cloud nine. As it were, you were somehow stuck, high on the precipice of orgasm but unable to follow through (a common place to find yourself for all your efforts). Now maybe it was simply divine timing or Rick Flag being somehow attuned to your needs, but for a brief moment his harsh thrusts ease into shorter, quick movements and he uses the leverage of his hand on your throat to turn your head so his mouth is pressed to your cheek. 

"Gonna come," he tells you, "need you to come with me, sweetheart." 

Fuck, you would do anything at all that he asked. Instead of waiting, Rick licks the finger of the hand he was using to support himself and slides it between your thighs, making tight circles on your clit while he continues to drive his cock in and out albeit at a pace that doesn't jerk you too far forward. 

It only takes a couple of seconds before you're careening off of the edge into climax and whining pitifully as your eyes roll back into your head. Through the haze of endorphins, you feel Rick smile. Your toes are only just starting to uncurl as he stops circling your clit and he returns to his previous, brutal pace. 

Every second after is your entire world. You feel his pace become sloppy and uneven, bracing yourself to take every drop of his ejaculate if he actually let's you. And he does, because as soon as that first hot spurt of liquid comes, Rick buries his cock, hips flush against your ass and he moans brokenly as he comes again and again until he's completely spent, empty where you are now full and overflowing. 

Even as he rests his sweaty, sweaty forehead against your back, you feel his fingers return to your clit and rub the combination of your juices into it. The hand at your throat goes completely limp and thumps against the hood of his jeep, and as you glance back to look at Rick, he takes his gooey fingers and places them into his mouth, even hums for good measure as if he was tasting a home cooked meal. 

It's the death of you, honestly. 

It's then that Rick buries his face and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he settles on your back and then he just… lies there for a while. Your breathing evens, the sweat on your body cools until you're shivering in the drafty garage, and you're thankful he parked in the blindspot of the security cameras because someone would have comes down here to make sure you hadn't somehow murdered the Colonel with your delightful pussy. 

"Rick?" 

You swear to god, you hear a sniffle. It breaks your heart a little, confuses you mostly. You believe you had almost imagined it until Rick finally pulls off (and out) of you to tuck himself back into his pants. There's not much cleaning up to be had in this location, so you suck it up and put your pants back on. Rick has his back to you but you still recognize the faint motion of his arm– one of him wiping underneath his eyes. It really is as bad as you thought… 

You pat his back and say something, "haven't had jello legs in a long while, thanks. We better get moving or else we're gonna meet security on their morning sweep of the place." 

Rick nods his head and gets back into the passenger seat, making sure you're seated and buckled up before he shifts into first gear. The drive is silent, but not an awkward one like you were expecting. Instead it is pleasant, the radio on low playing classic country songs from a cd and the heat on full blast (useless because Rick has his window down but oh well). 

You don't even need to tell him your address except to direct him the last three turns. It's not the first time he's given you a ride home. He parks and settles in as if to watch you to the door, make sure you're inside before you leave, but you don't go anywhere. Instead you pull his emergency brake. 

Rick lifts an eyebrow at you. "What? Forget something?" 

You offer a bigger hit by also shifting his gear to park and taking the keys from his ignition. Faster than he can stop you, and before he knows it, you are unbuckled and waiting outside the car for him. Unsure, Rick shakes his head and gets out of the car himself, and as soon as the driver side door closes, you lock it. 

"You're not going back to the fucking bedroll, Flag," you spit. "You need a real bed. A real bath and real food. Now get your ass upstairs." 

Eyes widened in disbelief, Rick scoffs but starts to walk past you. "Yes ma'am," he mumbles before yelping as you spank him lightly. 

You can't be humble– your digs are fucking nice! Open floor plan living room and kitchen, stocked minibar fridge on the counter with a twin in youraster bathroom. Don't fucking get me started on your master bathroom. 

"Get in my room and take those ratty ass gym clothes off," you command. 

Rick can't express how being bossed around by you makes him a tiny bit horny, but you don't seem to be looking for a round two and he's kind of grateful. Exhaustion is taking over his bones and his eyes are starting to droop. Turns out your advice is working. 

You plug your cell phone into your charger and pick up the landline phone. "It's too late to cook. Do you want pizza or teriyaki?" 

"Teriyaki," Rick replies while pulling his shirt off. "spicy yakisoba and spring rolls, please." 

"Chicken? Tofu? Beef?" 

"Chicken. I can pay–" 

You wave your hand dismissively. "Literally don't even worry about it." --you snap your fingers and point– "go!" 

By the time you're done ordering, Rick is gone and thankfully has not left a trail of dirty clothes on the floor. You find him examining the contents of your bedroom, with his eyes rather than his hands, blessedly naked and you admire the dimples above his pert ass at the base of his spine. 

"What do I…" 

Rick watches you waltz behind another door and flick on the light. He follows you and hears the unmistakable sound of a faucet turning on. You had said he needed to bathe… 

Your bathroom is huge– double sink, lots of counter space, full length mirror on one wall, rack with soaps, salts, and other products. You also have a separate shower and bath. Rick beelines for the shower and glances over your wash products in here. No scents for men, he expects, but any port in a storm… 

He adjusts the temperature to his liking, before he can climb in, you push him away towards the bath. "Tub's ready. Extra hot, don't burn that beautiful, beautiful body of yours ok?" 

He can hardly get a word in edgewise before you drop your robe– when they fuck did you have time to change out of your clothes??-- and take his spot in the shower. 

Rick considers for a second just getting in with you. The shower is big enough, but… he looks over to the bathtub and the almost overflow of bubbles. Something floral and sweet fills the air and is somehow not overpowering. You went through all the trouble… 

When was the last time he had a bath? He tips a toe in and hisses. Probably not since he was a small child, he thinks. The water is just on the edge of too hot, so he sits on the edge with his feet in and waits for it to cool just a tiny bit. The ache of the day is stripped away as the heat seeps into his flesh and Rick's eyes flutter closed. 

He has his back to you but he can see you in the mirror running a loffa over your body. The way the suds gently glide down your chest and over your hips and legs does make blood rush south but again, he's too tired for round two. Maybe one of these days you would have another chance, it's not like your changing careers anytime soon. 

You are distracted from scrubbing your under arms by Rick's loud, almost lewd groan. You look over and chuckle to see him finally slump into the bathtub, bubbles up to his chin and arms anchoring him to the rim of the tub. You hadn't quite taken stock of the damage done from his last mission– all his new cuts and bruises. They had to sting pretty bad but you hadn't seen anything bad enough for the Colonel to warrant a bandage except perhaps the white butterfly one on his eyebrow. You let him have his long awaited peace and finish removing the grime off your skin and sticky stuff from your thighs. 

When you're done, you step out and grab three towels. Just as you finish dabbing away the moisture from your face, you notice Rick's arms are fully in the water and his head slowly slipping further and further down. In an instant, you are scrambling to his side and catch the half asleep man by his chin to keep him from drowning. 

Rick startles awake too, hands coming to grip your back as his heart pounds in his ears. 

"Careful Colonel," you say breathlessly, "I don't need another body in my bathtub." 

Rick laughs– he has no idea it's not a joke, why would he– and pushes himself back into the sitting position. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought." 

"You're gonna love this shit." You reach over to the button menu on the side and turn the jets on. Rick throws his head back and groans. "Yeah, I thought so." 

"Come here." He offers a hand and waits and for the first time tonight, you hesitate. "We're waaay passed that now, darlin'. Get in here, I want you on my lap." 

You sigh as if letting go of some humbling fear and do as you're told. The water is still pretty warm and Rick's lap is the perfect seat. Besides, you reason, what better position is there to keep him from actually drowning? 

He lets you wash his hair, doesn't seem to mind that you don't have a 'manlier' scent around. You take your own comfort in the way the grime that was cling to his locks melts away with the suds and turns his hair from a dulled dark grey back to a burnished gold. 

"Can't imagine you find this level of luxury in that dingy little storage closet in Belle," you chuckle. 

"S not that bad," he replies, "but this… this is nice." 

Your food order comes and you pay for it at the door dripping wet (towel on your shoulders over your robe but it's coquettish nonetheless and the delivery person blushes fiercely). You manage to find some old lounge pants and a big band shirt for Rick to wear. You doubt he minds not wearing underwear and he doesn't seem the least bit uncomfortable. 

The man is practically falling asleep into his dinner, can't make it through a single bite without jerking his head back up in surprise to find his chin touching his chest. You laugh, but you don't make him lay down yet. He eats as much as he can before calling it and he thanks you for dinner before slowly slowly slowly making his way to the couch. 

"Ah!," you shout, "I don't think so! Bed, mister, do not make me tell you twice." 

Rick alters his direction and heads for your hallway. You're packing the leftovers into what little space you have in your fridge before you remember suddenly about your guest bedroom. 

Which normally if he wants to sleep there would have been fine. Except tonight. Because you have not changed the sheets since Elliot was over and Rick does not need to be sleeping in that. 

Eyes half closed, walking unevenly like a zombie, he barely registers the footsteps barrelling towards him. You pull his hand away from the knob of the first door in the hallway and drag him back to the open door of your bedroom. 

"This way, this way," you sing and drag him as fast as he will let you. "There! Now lay down, I'll be back in a minute." 

Rick flops face first into the pillows and his out before his head hits them. You only leave to turn out all of the lights and drain the water from the tub before you return. You can't pull the blankets down with Rick on top of them, so you grab a soft as fuck fleece from your closet and throw it over him before wrapping yourself into and turning your lights out. 

The bed is cool, the pillows firm, Rick is warm and snores softly. It's a matter of seconds before sleep washes over you like waves from the ocean. 

It starts with whimpering. Your eyes open slightly and you are greeted by the moonlight bathing your room in a soft blue light. Another whimper draws your attention to the other side of your bed where your guest is. Rick is twitching, face buried in the pillows and fighting against something unsee. You reach over tentatively, draping yourself over his back to stop his flinching and murmur affirmations softly. 

It's a few moments before Rick takes a deep breath and stops twitching all together. You rub your thumb over the back of his hand until you feel him try to rise, so you roll off of his back and let him. Instead of leaving, Rick wraps you up in his arms and drags you closer to cuddle you close. 

You both settle back into sleeping positions and the room becomes quiet again. You were halfway back to sleep when you felt Rick's nose bump your ear. 

"Thank you," he whispers. "For everything." 

You squeeze his hand in answer and close your eyes again. A few moments pass before Rick asks, "is it… would it be alright if I stayed for breakfast?" 

"Of course," you say sleepily. "Of course." 

Rick tucks you closer to his body and you both drift off to sleep. Whatever happens after breakfast tomorrow doesn't matter. Maybe he stays, maybe he leaves, maybe you go back to being coworkers or friends. For now, you both take comfort in each other and sleep. 

[plan-d-to-i]

This is a sad day for me. One of my favorite fic authors became a madam Yu stan 😭😭😭😭😭

Author was already sharing some questionable JC takes but I was willing to overlook them because -1) the majority of the Fandom has questionable takes about JC -2) author never writes fics about JC anyway, most their work is about a rarepair that I like

But now they shared a gifset of madam Ew and JC (In CQL no less) with the following tags:

#i love this moment 🥺 #i literally have no doubt that yzy loved jc very much #her anger wasn't directed at him but rather she was angry on his behalf #she wanted the best for him #so of course she would be angry to see him overshadowed and overlooked #especially when it was his own father neglecting him #also I love their blue and purple color scheme it's so pretty!

The problem is this author did read the novel (and they are a novel main even) and their analysis of other characters was mostly logical and well thought out, so I was willing to let them off on their questionable opinions on JC and the Lans (I understand many people don't agree with the lans' strictness and use of corporal punishment for discipline)

Now however, they're defending madam Ew which I cannot overlook. Me being a woman I can't wrap my head around madam Ew's actions as a mother and person in general. I mean what sane woman looks at an orphaned child who had to fend for himself on the streets since he was a toddler and doesn't feel her maternal instincts to protect and nurture the child go through the roof but instead decide beat this child with an electric whip for daring to be the son of a (dead) woman her husband may have had a crush on and also for daring to be a prodigy and more talented and popular than her mediocre unlikable son and also constantly slander and insult the child's dead parents to his face. To me madam Ew is the most revolting character in Mdzs (and that's a very high bar considering how despicable some of the other characters are) mostly because of the way she treated a vulnerable child in her care

I am afraid I will have to withdraw my support from this author even if I like their writing so much. I draw the line at Madam Ew stanning and child abuse apologism

Sorry for the long rant I had to get it off my chest 😔

oof (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) no worries. go off. xx

Forget a maternal instinct how about just basic human decency. And I mean BASIC. I don't mind asshole characters, but it's only really enjoyable when they're assholes to ppl on their level. I get no satisfaction seeing a super privileged asshole abusing someone who can't strike back and then demand sympathy! Plz hold your breath bitch.

But their takes are just bad period. How are they going to have a problem w the Lans for using corporeal punishment over well established rules, or incredibly serious transgressions and be simpatico w YZY punishing WWX for existing?!! It's like YZY stans share one braincell.

*JFM tells jc not to reprimand WWX for saving people*, yzy stans: OMg he's FavOrinG WWX >:-/. YZY isn't throwing her tantrums for jc's sake. She's throwing them for herself. It's in the book. She busts into a session of JFM trying to teach his son how to be a decent person for his future as a Clan leader and is like "did u forget this is ur son u don't even care u don't even pay attention to ME!!!... I mean him". Let's look at her words, what part of this is in the interest of her son:

There was resentment within her heart. She simply wanted to let out the rage, even if it made no sense. All the rest were quiet as they endured her temper. Jiang FengMian, “My lady, you’re tired. Why don’t you go back and rest?”

Jiang Cheng sat still as he looked up at her, “Mom.”

Madam Yu stood up and mocked, “What do you want me to do? Like your father, you want me to hold my tongue? You really are an idiot. I’ve told you long ago that you’ll never in your whole life be able to surpass the one sitting beside you. Not over cultivation, not over night-hunting, even over shooting kites, you can’t surpass him! It can’t be helped. Who could change the fact that your mom is worse than another’s? Worse it is, then. Your mom feels injustice for you, tells you countless times not to fool around with him, yet you’re still defending him. Just how did I give birth to a son like you?!”

She doesn't feel injustice for jiang cheng, she's pissed off Cangse Sanren was better than her and WWX is better than her son.

Look carefully—this, is your own son, the future head of Lotus Pier. Even if you frown upon him just because I was the one who bore him, his surname is still Jiang!

NO ONE IS DENYING IT LADY. Absolutely delusional. She's so much like jc. It simply must be someone else's fault that JFM doesn't want to fw her. It can't possibly be her character and personality that are repugnant.

WWX did nothing wrong ever except try to comfort jc and tell him he's not that bad bc all of this is true. Ofc JFM wishes he could leave the Clan in the hands of a decent person but he still fully plans on leaving it to jc. He's still trying to teach jc although his lessons have been falling on deaf ears for years ("Since birth, he taught him in many ways, yet he still couldn’t change")

Jiang Cheng pulled Wei WuXian’s hand away and stood up, letting out his anger, “I know! I know that I don’t have the personality he likes, that I’m not the heir he wants. He thinks that I don’t deserve to be Sect Leader, that I don’t understand the motto of the Jiang Sect, that I don’t have the air of the Jiang Sect in me at all! Those are all true!”

Like nah it's not your personality buddy, it's your rank character. jc is out there acting like a self absorbed, selfish piece of shit knowing it's against his father's wishes, and then is like "why doesn't JFM sing me praises? I don't get it?"

[robot-thighs]

Here today in the simpatico tag yet again bringing you my longest, horniest fic to date. this one really got out of hand. you can read the full fic on ao3 🥹

-

Perceptor was confident they’d gotten a few knowing looks from the security team, even if they hadn’t said anything.

That was unsurprising, he supposed. He and Brainstorm had stumbled out of the decontamination chamber utterly bedraggled, with obvious paint transfers decorating various points on their frames, particularly their pelvic plating. Perceptor’s systems were still reading as a tick over normal temperature. Overall, his own cladding felt… disheveled. Brainstorm had only hastily and belatedly retrieved his blast mask from the floor of the wash rack and—if Perceptor was right in remembering the measurements of his lab partner’s face (and he was, being quite familiar with it) —it was skewed at a bit of an angle.

After some prudent (but excruciating) attention from the security team, Perceptor had been pushed along to the medbay at Brainstorm’s insistence. It didn’t seem necessary anymore, but he supposed there was no telling what other adverse effects the chemical might have had. He wasn’t certain if the remaining heat in his systems was a result of lingering fumes still circulating his ventilation system, or if his warmth was being brought on by something else entirely—something teal, frustratingly brilliant and jet-shaped.

After the whole ordeal had been brought to a close and Perceptor found himself back in his hab suite after being discharged from the medbay—only then did he finally allow himself to consider the ramifications. Brainstorm had been overwhelmingly enthusiastic in his consent, but…

It was absurd that he was still able to let a sliver of doubt creep in, especially considering what had already passed. But unlike his lab partner, he was loath to proceed with anything short of 100% certainty that his calculations would not fail. There was the smallest catch—the slightest window for misunderstanding that Perceptor felt the need to close.

But not tonight. Tonight, he laid on his recharge slab and stared hard at the ceiling, failing to resist the memory of straddling Brainstorm’s lap as he pressed his weight back against the side of the decontamination chamber. Of molten gold optics searing him through the spark. Of an EM field laced with worshipful lust and—if he dared to think he was right—adoration. He remembered it all with perfect clarity despite the slow, cloying grasp of chemicals in his processor. He would remember the sensation of Brainstorm’s frame surging under his own until his spark sputtered out.

Ratchet had given him a clean bill of health—any particulate left from the chemical fumes was negligible enough as to be non-existent. Which meant the warmth creeping up his frame as he recalled the event belonged entirely to himself.

For a moment he considered comming Brainstorm’s frequency. Perhaps they needed to have a discussion now rather than later. But he squashed the thought before it got very far. Even if he was free from the effects of the fumes, his thinking was far from clear.

Instead, feeling a phantom of the same ache he had felt in the wash racks earlier, he shifted onto his side and stubbornly persuaded himself into recharge.

—

Perceptor was late returning to the lab the next day. He’d recharged longer than intended, and his internal chronometer hadn’t signaled him awake as usual. An oversight on his part—he put it down to the state he’d been in yesterday leaving him admittedly more scattered than usual. As he walked through the doors, he found Brainstorm already attending his workstation, reassembling parts of the familiar project he had been at work on for the past several weeks. He felt a flicker of irony go through him at the sight of it. If it hadn’t been for the explosion of that project, none of what they’d done yesterday would have been likely to happen.

As Perceptor entered, Brainstorm’s busy hands abruptly froze in their work. The jet looked at him and tilted his wings in a gesture Perceptor had learned to mean that he was embarrassed, or at least a little self-conscious. Even if his face was covered by the blast mask, his optics were round as they landed on where he lingered in the doorway.

“Hey! Thought you’d never wake up. Here’s me, taking on the burden of all the routine lab work all by myself.” Brainstorm’s jaunty tone didn’t reveal anything out of the ordinary, even if his body language did. “Just kidding! I left the stuff you usually do. I’m not that charitable.”

Perceptor felt a smile flicker across his face despite himself. “I wouldn’t have expected you to take over my duties in the lab, Brainstorm.”

The look Brainstorm gave him was sidelong; hesitant. Perceptor had gotten somewhat proficient in reading the flier’s moods—even the moods he wasn’t keen to share openly. He’d watched him long enough to understand the expressions of his wings and the subtle tilts of his ailerons. Quite often, they contradicted whichever mood Brainstorm outwardly affected. But right now, his wings were still. Perceptor wasn’t certain what he had on his mind, but he could guess.

“Good,” he said, finally, turning back to his work. His hands moved stiffly as he picked up a screwdriver and started tightening down a panel. “Cuz I was starting to wonder if you were gonna come in at all.”

Perceptor crossed into the lab and hesitated at his own workstation. He needed to attend to his checklist so that he could get to work—he was already behind, and of course, there were procedures to follow before he could delve into his project. But he stood silently instead, casting a scrutinizing gaze at the spot on his desk where his chemical experiment had spilled the day before.

“Brainstorm…” he started. “About yesterday...”

He heard the screwdriver hit Brainstorm’s desk. He didn’t look up in time to notice if he’d dropped it or simply put it down too hard. The jet’s posture was wound tight. He broke a glance off in Perceptor’s direction, optics strained, before looking down at his own hands as he laid them flat on the surface of his workstation. His wing struts snapped straight behind him. “Yeah?”

Perceptor deliberated. Conversations such as these were difficult for him. No, he couldn’t say that, in truth. He’d never had a conversation quite like this. A part of him yearned to sweep it away, but he’d seen where remaining silent had gotten him. It seemed neither of them were particularly proficient with navigating their feelings, but he wasn’t going to allow either of them to pretend it hadn’t happened.

He vented out. He needed 100% certainty.

“For one thing,” he resumed. “I wanted to apologize again. My behavior yesterday was… unseemly.”

Brainstorm’s wings bobbed, dipping down slightly before returning to their previous position. Hurt. Perceptor frowned lightly.

“Hey, don’t worry, Percy,” Brainstorm said easily, nothing of the hurt that had been evident in his wing language carrying in his voice, “You weren’t yourself. Obviously. Let’s… we don’t have to blow it up, yeah?” He put on an ironic laugh. “I've got 'blowing up' covered already. So don’t worry about it.”

Perceptor opened his mouth and shut it again. With an effort, he drew himself away from his workbench, curling his hands into steely fists before relaxing his arms to his sides. He approached Brainstorm a few steps. His lab partner cycled a quick blink.

“No, Brainstorm, I was entirely myself,” Perceptor explained. When Brainstorm didn’t move, Perceptor sighed and carefully reached up to remove his targeting lens. He looked down at it, checking its angles as he fidgeted the hard edges of the glass between his fingers. “The chemicals only affected my interface protocols and my inhibitions. They didn’t affect my judgment.”

That caught Brainstorm’s interest. He turned in place, looking like he didn’t know what to do with his limbs. His hands reached back and caught the edge of his desk, kneading there nervously. “You… sure?”

“Quite.” Perceptor ceased with scrutinizing his targeting lens, but still tensed his fingers around it as he looked at Brainstorm seriously. “I meant the things I said. Especially towards the end.”

The jet seemed skittish; optics cracked wide. He looked like his individual components were threatening to rattle apart but he was keeping them together by sheer force of will. “Y-yeah. Okay. I mean, when you left and didn’t say anything after… And then when you were late this morning… I kinda worried, m-maybe you were, uh. Ashamed, or something.”

Perceptor’s expression softened. He could see how Brainstorm might have made that assumption. Gently, he took another step forward and let his field pulse with reassurance and a soft, measured affection. Brainstorm physically eased, optics going liquid.

“Brainstorm…” he said, voice gentling. “The only thing I’m ashamed of is the fact that it’s taken me so long to set things straight between us.”

Brainstorm froze. Whether he was stunned or simply caught in a lingering grip of uncertainty that he couldn’t force himself to part with was unclear. Perceptor braced himself. 100% certainty. “When… Yesterday.” He couldn’t bring himself to elaborate. He cleared his intakes at the memory. “I asked if you wanted me to court you.”

“Yeah?” Brainstorm looked at him and braced himself like he was on the brink of running. Whether it was towards Perceptor or away from him was debatable.

“Well?”

The moment was heavy with expectation. Brainstorm cycled his optics several times in succession, causing their light to flutter. “I… yes! I said yes, didn’t I?”

Perceptor eased. He hadn’t noticed when his struts had gone so rigid, but the relief that swept up his spark was immediate. He took a second to refix his targeting lens astutely. If his field gave off a pulse that was a bit self-satisfied, he couldn’t help it. “Actually, you said—and I quote: ‘I want you to frag my lights out.’”

He felt his frame warm up at the memory. Whatever misgivings he might have had at repeating Brainstorm’s course plea—no doubt spoken in the thoughtless haste of his arousal—he was rewarded when the jet’s wings bobbed upward and his field gave off a bright wave of joy. “That I did…” he said with a lilt of smugness. His optics thinned in a hidden grin. “And that you did. And…” He dithered. “Um, what I definitely meant was. Yes. Yes, though. I’d like that. I’d really like that.”

Perceptor smiled genuinely. The angle of Brainstorm’s wings changed as he watched him, settling into an expression he wasn’t sure he’d seen before. They were low, slightly flattened out. The ailerons flared. It was something like joy, but softer. His field gave the emotion a name as it bridged the space between them and touched Perceptor’s. Adoration.

Drawing forward, Perceptor closed the distance between them. Brainstorm leaned his weight back on his hands and fidgeted his fingers along the edge of the desk, still wrestling with that hidden uncertainty. Perceptor reached down to Brainstorm’s desk to cover one of his hands with his own. The gesture coaxed his partner into opening up a little, drifting toward him until their faces were close.

“Then do I have permission to begin now?” Perceptor asked, smiling unwavering.

Brainstorm’s optics dimmed, posture loosening almost precariously. “Don’t let this get to your head or anything,” He managed to keep his words hemmed into his usual smugness. “But you had permission ages ago.”

Perceptor reached up to Brainstorm’s chin and petted his thumb along the bottom edge of his blast mask in a silent question. Brainstorm only belatedly seemed to realize what that question was as his optics hooded dreamily. He jolted as he understood and mentally deactivated the clips keeping his mask in place. Perceptor carefully pulled it away with his free hand, the other remaining on his jaw and stroking the bottom edge of it fondly. He took a second to appreciate the jet’s captivated expression, blush coloring the high points of his face plates. This silly, brilliant, energetic burst of a mech… and he was, unfortunately, completely smitten with him. His field bloomed with fondness as he leaned in to kiss him.

[dorkicon]

For the ask.... Mr Brain Storm please 👀👉🏽👈🏽

Also hiiiiiii it's been a while!!!! 👀

send me a character and i’ll list:

favorite thing about them

(laying awake in bed) jesus christ, everything he did was always for love wasnt it.

dont get me wrong, its a totally selfish move, bordering on, like, obsession. but its so tragic that he was. i dont know. he was like. i can fix this. i can bring quark back, just like i can solve any problem, i can solve this. and hes so (obsessed? focused?) that he got everyone killed in an alternate universe in pursuit of that. he was willing to wipe himself from existence bro.

idk i also really like those rare moments where he just shows some straight up empathy, like when he comforts chromedome...hes a very interesting character.

he strikes me as a guy whos all "yeah ive got this under control. i can fix everything and get what i want in the end, and i can do it alone" (everything is on fire)

(im missing some nuance here, i really need to read mtmte again...ider where i left off at this point. point is. i like him.)

least favorite thing about them

i dont care how mr roberts writes his dialog. theres no way brainstorm is british.

favorite line

this isnt a line or anything, and i cant even find the panel but how fucking funny is it that brainstorm owns microscopes that look like perceptor. how does perceptor deal with this. just like emotionally.

also his whole trial scene was pretty great.

brOTP

brainy and chromey. just two well adjusted dudes in a normal friendship.

brainstorm telling him not to forget rewind. just like how he hasnt forgotten quark (face in hands) jesus christ. we need more robot therapists.

he and nautica were really cute too. also rodimus :^] of course i gotta say perceptor too. more on that below

OTP

yeah u know i have thoughts on simpatico. i think theyre both pretty alike, as much as theyre different (that totally made sense) like theyre unpleasant, rude, and smarter than you, but theyre also two deeply lonely dudes that slowly crack over the course of the series and. i think im just a sucker for that.

also they kiss on the Mouth

nOTP

meh

random headcanon

brainstorm has given himself immunity to most poisons "just in case". no one has ever tried to poison him, it was just something he wanted to do.

unpopular opinion

honestly i dont go in the tags very often anymore, but i kinda feel like sometimes ppl give brainstorm the rodimus treatment where they write him like some lolrandom character and its just kinda like...Well okay.

song i associate with them

you guys thought i was gonna put weird science. ha. little did yall know, i had another novelty science hit locked and loaded!!!

favorite picture of them

these panels put a big ol smile on my face...its so much. brainy checking his nails, the way he whips his head around, the call back to the first time brainstorm called them simpatico. its just mwah.

[loftec]

Heyyyyy girl! We haven't talked in a hot minute, but I just finished reading I Will Follow Him earlier and hadn't had a chance to comment when a friend brought the nonsense anon tumblr drama to my attention. Anyway, I'll just say you handled it much more gracefully than I ever would (and probably have in the past, lmao). And I know you have a thick skin and this isn't something that would make you stop writing, but I still just wanted to let you know that I've missed your writing. I don't know if it's just in my head, but having been around the fandom for roughly the same amount of time as you have, I've discerned patterns in terms of the way people write and even what they respond to as readers, and the cliques that get formed around those things, so that to me it feels like even the fic itself generally has eras of writing styles? Like in my head I kind of cluster people together who seem simpatico in regards to the way they write IxM, but also how they express themselves and the way stories flow, whether there's depth of emotion or not, etc, etc. Anyway, for whatever reason, true or psychological, I find myself missing an era of fic that feels gone now. Not to say that there isn't any good writing anymore, just that it's simply a different vibe. So your new fic really brought me back to that old feeling. You always defy expectations when you adapt something into your own thing, so right off the bat I was pleasantly surprised that you, knowing Johnny Castle was not a completely accurate fit for Mickey because dancing/performing and also being a big man whore with the ladies (lmao), decided to subvert that and make him someone else. And Ian was Baby, but also not. My favorite thing though is the unspoken way you really showed Ian not feeling like he belongs anywhere. He has two families and none of them feel like home. I've felt that way my whole life and it's an emotional theme that's always been highly relevant. Makes you feel like there's nowhere you actually belong or anyone you really belong with. So I loved that aspect and look forward to it being explored more in the sequel(s). I thought your ending to this part of the story was realistic, even if I teared up and felt the loss. I could imagine a bit of a time jump and them meeting in completely different circumstances down the line. Again, totally unexpected that you wouldn't even include the big dance at the end, but fucking bravo honestly, because I couldn't picture some cheesy shit where Mickey dances with Ian in front of everyone for shock value and do the lift. Lolololllll... but yeah... do people honestly think Baby & Johnny lived happy ever after once the credits rolled on the actual movie anyway??? No way in hell. Lol. They were too different in ways that couldn't be overcome back then, sorry. He was meant to be her sexual/romantic awakening, and she went on to have a freer life. That's what I think. Ian & Mickey have a lot more in common, and although they have obstacles to overcome, they ultimately will be able to understand each other, and I think, get on the same page eventually. So please, think no more of any hate-adjacent crap you got or will get for this, because you'll always have a willing audience here, and we enjoy your voice so much. 💜

Hey my friend! It sure has been a hot minute, and this is so interesting! I hadn't even really thought about it, but I think you're on to something here. I haven't really read IxM fic in a good while and I kind of just figured that it was all on me because I have changed over the years, but it makes so much sense that the fic culture would change too. The characters are different, the tone is different, the fandom is different... it stands to reason that the fic is different too. I remember how fascinated I used to be with finding demarcations of time in fic, going back chronologically through the tag on AO3. Season 1 fic felt one way, season 2 a whole other way, etc. I suppose we're yet another ring in the ever growing oak tree of this fandom, lol. We're vintage, baby! You want some of those season 5 vibes? You know where to go, these angsty oldies over here writing increasingly absurd AU in 2021, they got what you need.

All of this means so much to me, you have no idea, especially knowing some of these ideas resonated with you personally like that. I've been thinking about this dang AU for several years at this point and I'm a little bit frustrated that I didn't find a way to give the actual writing of it the time it deserved, but I guess I gave it all the time I had, in the end. So that's something. I hope to muster some enthusiasm to go back and perhaps edit it a bit more soon, or at least start working on the sequels. I was traveling with my dad last weekend and I played some of my playlists for him, telling him about all my silly research and plans, and I now have three books about Soul in the late 60s to read. So you know the next part is gonna be real approachable! 😆

I think I somehow imagined that everybody knows and loves Dirty Dancing, too? I never talked to anyone about it when I was a kid, and it's only really the last four years or so that I have started meeting people who love it, like me. And turns out it's all my friends from primary school! It's all of my coworkers (at least the women), and it's so many of my tumblr mutuals... I was halfway convinced that every single person around me was just waiting to reveal themselves as another fan. Not so much, turns out! Writing a 60s dirty dancing AU is really weird, honestly! I expected two people to read my MiB AU, and I should have had the same expectations for this one. Because that's fine! I will write what I want to write and people will read what they want to read, as it should be.

Most importantly, though. I couldn't agree more with your Dirty Dancing analysis! To me, the dancing isn't the actual ending. To me, the ending is "guess we surprised everybody" and "I'll never be sorry" and "neither will I". The dance number is just a good note Johnny comes back to end it all on, but really, the honest final note is that "I'll see ya" *saxophone solo intensifies*. I just think it's so very bittersweet and good, and I only loved the movie more when I realised this. With Ian, everything became more complicated. Clayton is no Dr Houseman, and there can be no cheesy onstage dancing, and Ian has barely had time to wrap his head around the idea of having a future at all, being himself, let alone spending it with someone he just met. The Dirty Dancing AU needed to end this way for it to truly be a Dirty Dancing AU, in my mind. The next part will be something entirely different, and operate under a different set of narrative rules... Oooh well, look at me. I'm all excited about it. I can't wait to write it!

Thank you 💜💜

[looooooooomis]

Scream 5 came out like a month ago girlie you’re fine to just tag spoilers if you evern want to go that far

This is true 100% I get you but it’s also a pandemic where maybe some people aren’t comfortable going into theatres / crowds. Or even like Ontario for example JUST opened up its theatres on Monday you feel me? So I just wanted to make sure everyone was simpatico with the tags is all 🤙🏼 but the overall consensus seems to be that the tags are fine so that’s what I’ll do! Thanks pal x

[deantransgressions2]

13x04 the big empty

23 transgressions. sigh.

#1: he was momentarily giving sam the silent treatment for no valid reason considering sam did nothing wrong.

time tag: 2:05

#2: name calling. and just being rude for no fucking reason

sam: “what you, uh, working on?”

dean: “dead guy in madison. police say it was a home invasion, but neighbor claims that she saw the vic’s dead wife leave the crime scene.”

sam: “let’s check it out.”

dean: “what, you ready to ditch damien? what do you wanna do? leave him in a ring of holy oil with some netflix and a frozen pizza?”

time tag: 2:09

#3: more name calling

dean: “uh, hell, no. what, “adventures in babysitting” the antichrist? no, thank you”

time tag: 2:25

#4: dean gave up on mary. AND kept trying to convince sam that lucifer killed mary even though SAM actually knows lucifer and dean does not. 

dean: “yeah, it is, actually. you wanna know why? because as long as he’s here, he’s not out there doing god knows what. so what, does this mean that your plan for bringing mom back isn’t working? ‘cause i’ll say it again....mom’s dead, sam. lucifer ripped out her freakin’ heart. now, the sooner you can wrap your head around that, the sooner we can all move on.”

time tag: 2:40

#5: an infant should not have to put effort into convincing a full grown man to not murder him. sam should not have to protect an infant from his abusive brother

jack: “dean can’t even look at me. he wants to kill me.” sam: “i won’t let that happen. listen, if there’s one thing that dean respects, it’s effort. so come along. help us out. let’s go be the good guys.”

time tag: 6:02

#6: jack attempted to open his car door to join sam and dean. dean forcefully slammed it back in his face and told him to stay put. 

time tag: 7:15

#7: he verbally assaulted an infant for not following instructions.....

dean: “hey! i told you to wait in the car. what the hell are you doing?” jack: “i’m trying to help out.” dean: “how is this helping out?”

time tag: 7:53

#8: made fun of jack for trying to help out

time tag: 8:08

#9: ordered jack to dig up the grave so he didn’t have to. sam said what we were all thinking:

dean: “all right, well, you said you wanted to help, so, uh… dig.”

sam: “dean, what’s up with all the orders? you’re starting to sound like dad.”

dean: “that a bad thing?”

sam: “i’m just saying his...his drill sergeant act worked with you… but it didn’t work with me. and that’s not the way we’re gonna get through to jack.”

dean: “look, you wanted the kid here, he’s here. all right? but I’m not gonna hold his hand and tuck him in at night. pass. i’m not gonna be his mother, and neither are you. and the kid can dig, so i’ll give him that.”

time tag: 8:49

#10: ordered jack to get food for all of them. sam told dean that he was treating jack like an “intern” and he wasn’t wrong!

time tag: 12:20

#11: not really a funny joke. like he’s a 40 year old man maybe he should grow up and stop talking shit about therapist and.....go fucking see one himself.

dean: “hmm. shrinks. snake oil for the mind.”

sam: “or how healthy people deal.”

dean: “yeah? all right, let’s see how good old, uh, gloria was dealing. here you go. “and now that i’ve achieved catharsis, i can truly see the program works.” the program? come on, i mean, she’s one kool-aid away from jonestown.”

time tag: 12:42

#12: the blatant verbal abuse...trivializing everything jack does or says...who the fuck seriously stans canon dean. if u do get help.

time tag: 13:19

#13: he had onions on his hotdog. so not only is he a child abuser, he ALSO smells like onions. makes everything he does this episode so much worse if that’s even possible

time tag: 13:38

#14: any form of ordering or demanding aggressively is a form of verbal abuse. name calling is also a form of abuse. here are two instances, both within the same scene:

receptionist: “oh, i’m sorry. you caught us right at the end of our day. maybe tomorrow.”

dean: “no, today’s good. like right now.”

and 

dean: “listen, mr. spock, you speak when i tell you to speak, okay?”

jack: “yes.”

dean: “good.”

time tag: 14:32

#15: dean was curt towards the therapist, who he just met and had treated him with nothing but kindness. 

time tag: 15:31

#16: insinuated that journaling is for girls/women. 

mia: “dean? you journal?”

dean: “ever since i was a little girl.”

time tag: 16:00

#17: insinuated that actually sam is the one that needs help, not him. denial and projection. you hate to see it. 

time tag: 16:32

#18: gaslighting, name calling, undermining, and diverting the conversation to find issues with sam instead of himself.

dean: “all right, this is a safe place, right, doc? okay. my brother’s delusional…”

sam: “dean.”

dean: “you said you wanted to give this a shot, right? here we go. he won’t even admit that mom’s dead. won’t even admit it.”

sam: “stop.”

dean: “because if he admits it, then it’s real. if it’s real, then he has to deal with it, and he can’t handle that.”

time tag: 16:42

#19: sigh. 

mia: “you just upset your brother so much, he had to leave the room. and jack? look at him. he’s terrified of you.”

dean: “nah. no, we’re simpatico. right, kid?”

jack: “we’re simpatico.” mia: “convincing.”

time tag: 19:02

#20: jack is trying to get through to dean and convince him that he can be useful. jack just wants dean to like him. and with abusers, being liked/respected and being viewed as an object can be a fine line. 

time tag: 25:50

#21: dean conditioning jack to seek validation from him. 

jack: “hey.” dean: “hey. you did good today, jack.”

time tag: 39:35

#22: “acting like a dick” is a massive fucking understatement. also, dean now only sees the value of jack’s life because he finally deems him useful. but, sam saw value in jack’s life simply because jack was a child and deserved a life. cas saw value in jack’s life before he was even born. sam and cas are the only two valid people in jack’s life 

dean: “listen, man, back at, uh, mia’s, i was out of line. i’m sorry for being a… a dick lately.”

sam: “thanks.” dean: “and maybe you’re right, about the kid. i mean, he tries. i’ll give him that. and he tapped his powers, saved our ass, so that’s a win.”

time tag: 39:56

#23: dean was verbally abusing his brother for doing something he actually wanted him to do (believing mary was alive)... hmm. 

time tag: 40:45

[cinderellasfella]

hello there! sorry to bother you, idk if that's ok for me to ask you, but, i don't understand what this new update means, what happened to the tags? the tags won't work or the tags will affect the posts in some way?

Hey anon, no worries, I'll do my best! As I understand the situation, Apple have changed the guidelines on their stores again, so tumblr has expanded their list of banned tags, and any posts using these tags will be hidden from searches on the ios app. The problem is, there's no official list of which tags are now considered non simpatico, and people are finding that a lot of content creator tags such as "mine", "my stuff", etc., as well as tracking tags for specific creators are being banned, for reasons that I'm sure are appropriately asinine.

These posts sum the issue up pretty well, and have some resources linked for finding out which tags are being banned and how to replace them, hope that helps!

[thehereticaldeserthermit]

𝕆𝕦𝕥 𝕆𝕗 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣 ℚ𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤

ROLE PLAYER GET TO KNOW YOU PROMPT

Alright TDC Community It’s time for a task, 

and this time we’re all going to get to know each other a little better. 

Under the cut, you’ll find forty out of character questions split into two parts: OOC about your muses, and OOC about yourself! Answer what you’d like, add more if you’d like.

When you’re done TAG some of your writing partners and keep FUN going. 

-there is no pressure to participate

-IF You Are Reading This And You’d Like To Participate Consider Yourself Tagged My Friend! 

Much Love,

TheJesseWhoLurks

I tag @lyr-taxidermist  @theghostofharar  @hurdygurdyskeksis  @urskekyagvi  @skekmal-the-hunter  @skekso-the-emperor  @gourdplayer   @hedonistschambers  @ulvanmaudra  @littlebluezoologist @the-wandering-urru  @queenofthetides  @juliejewel24 @thecastleurru

OOC About  Your Character(s)

1.     What do you want to get out of playing this character(s)?

The reason I wanted to write for Gra was to meet fellow fans that loved the world of TDC as much as I do, I wanted to find fellow writers. I wanted to steep myself in the fandom. You can easily consider me skeKSis obsessed but I am growing a fondness for their counterparts -slowly ❤

2.     Describe your character(s) with three words.

Passionate | Erratic | Trustworthy

3.     What made you decide to write this muse?

Originally I was going to pick up The Ritual Master, he’d been my OG fav from the movie BUT Gra kept ... poking me with his scepter? Like; I live in the desert, you live in the desert, Ima recluse, you’re a recluse =we are simpatico. I think The Heretic picked me because he simply would not leave my mind when I considered him as a possibility. 

4.     If you could change one event in your muse’s life (in their main or canon verse), what would you change?

Canon. I mean they left us kinda hanging there. We really do not know what happened do we? They are simply, just not there anymore. I do not want them to perish, I want them to make it to the finish line and become urSkek. It breaks my heart to think they did not make it.

5.     If you could tell your muse one thing, what would you tell them?

I would not say anything, just hug him REALLY tightly and probably not let go until he gives me a chitter-laugh.

6.     If you could give your muse one gift, what would you give them?

I would like to give them...ME. 

7.     If you had to take one positive thing away from your muse, what would you take away?

I do not want to take a positive thing from the fibers that make up Gra. I feel they are very interwoven in his tale. Removing one would make another untether. If I could take away or diminish a bad trait Id have him not be so stubborn and or impatient but then again he would not be Gra now would he?  

8.     If you could “borrow” one aspect of your muse and apply it to yourself or your own life, what would you borrow?

His determination, passion. Damn son. You get things done. 

9.     Do you genuinely want your muse to be happy? What do you think would make them most happy in life?

Yes. He’s gotten his ass handed to him, I think he might be owed a slice of peace and happiness.  What makes him most happy? He’s already showed me; his relationships whether its friendship, extended family or a lover those are treasures he holds near and dear to his heart.  

10. Do you enjoy putting your muse through angst? What do you think would break their heart the most?

Usually I prefer to plot out angst rather then let it completely run a-muck because you never know what your partner is comfortable with, what might trigger them in a detrimental way and simply set fire to a plot unintentionally. 

I already know; it literally is ... break his heart. 

11. What do you love about your muse?

His dynamic energy, the wild fire, the mystical chaos, the creativity is off the charts. His sharp distinguished features, the way he looks shamanistically feral as compared to his brethren and their Garthic garb. His use of the color red. His scratchy rasp of a voice. His laugh. 

12. What do you hate about your muse?

He is a high maintenance muse, he is demanding and screeches loudly for what he wants. 

13. What about your muse amuses you?

The fact that he is a skeKSis. This brings a whole slew of challenges to the table for a writer. Case in point, I was writing a reply one day and I went to put something in along the lines of ‘he arched his brow and blah blah’ THEN he hit me! He has no eyebrows to arch, ahhh! I have to stop and think about how to write out expressive traits or reactions that are not of the usual human reaction tone.

14. What about your muse makes you sad? 

How fragile his heart really is after all the shit he’s endeared. 

15. How would you describe your muse to someone about to meet them, in person, for the first time?

Get Ready For A Wild SURPRISE!

16. Would you like your muse as a person if you met them in real life?

Yes, I like creative souls. I cherish them. 

17. In what ways are you better than your muse? In what ways are they better than you?

I do not think I am or he is better than the other. 

But I will say he is a handsome devil, for a skeKSis. 

18. Why do you think you connect to your muse?

Creative. Outcast. 

19. What aspect of your muse’s personality is most important to you? What aspect of your muse’s personality do you think is most important to them? Is it the same? Why or why not?

His passion and drive. I’d say its the same answer for us both. All of the accomplishments he tackled probably had their stacks of obstacles with each to-do. You’d have to have an unending supply of passion and drive to keep going, to complete all. He really is a work-a-holic and a busy body skek.

20. Has your character(s) changed over the time that you have been playing them? How have they changed?

Not yet but I am sure he will, creative liberties will be taken since I only have a a episode or two to work with -am I right? 

About You!

1.     What is your name? 

Jesse. 

2.     What is your profession?

secret shit. 

3.     What do you do to relax?

I write. Play video games. Naps are divine. Hot coffee and watch YT videos. DOodle. Desert combing walks. Long hot baths. Organize things xD

4.     What is your favorite treat (desert)?

All kinds, I’m not picky. I love me some chocolate lately. 

5.     Favorite movie

Too many to list. Its October right now. All I want is Hocus Pocus, some Harry Potter and Practical Magick at the moment. Tis the season. 

6.     Favorite book

I do not think I have a favorite. BUT I will admit that I have a copy of The Dark Crystal that I STOLE FROM A LIBRARY YEARS AGO! I have kept it all this time, its falling apart and its aged with beauty and I adore it  ❤ I also have a Jim Henson book about puppetry and his works, there is a page from TDC and if my memory serves me right it has the concept art of skekGra in it sooo sooo I was looking at skekGra YEARS AGO AND HAD NO CLUE the conjunction that would line up in the future! I really neeed to go find this book but its in a storage shed that will be a fresh hell to get to =[ *

7.     Favorite vacation spot

Anywhere where its either very green and or by some body of water. Ocean, river, lake. Yes, good. -not very many humans around save for present company reading thiiiis. 

8.     Favorite Disney movie

Are you kidding me? Too many to list, although I will say The Sword In The Stone did play a part in Gra’s Crystal Skimmer named Archimedes after the grouchy old owl. 

9.     How did you first get into role playing?

Years ago. I started writing on face book. I wrote for a pirate believe it or not, he was my first muse and he holds special place in my black heart and probably always will. But I am disinclined to acquiesce the gift of further details about this scurvy cursed muse, Ha!

10. What was your first platform? If it was something other than Tumblr, what made you get into Tumblr?

It was face book, before they got all crazy about accounts and security. I moved over to tumblr because writers were incredibly rude and rapid fire RP-ers. One liner sentences and I’m like NOPE I need a novel length. 

11. What’s a grammar rule you find yourself breaking or ignoring a lot?

Sometimes I have a touch of dyslexia, sometimes I typo, sometimes I am too tired to proof read, sometimes I make blunders. But I tend to focus on my mistakes rather then other peoples. I just go with the flow, I just write no matter what their level of ‘proper grammar’ IS because I’d like to think that maybe they are just starting out, maybe they will fall in love with writing and maybe they will be the next author who creates a world we all fall in love with and want to immerse ourselves in.  

12. Are there any languages besides English in which you think you could comfortably roleplay?

I do not RP in other languages. However I did have a muse at one time who was French, I would throw in little phrases but it was never entirely done in French and I do have a British muse at the moment, so again I will use slang and little sayings to make them well rounded as best as I can. Those are just little details I like to include that many others might skip on but I thrive for deets. 

I do however have role play writing partners that are from ALL over the world which is amazing to me. 

13. Do you listen to music while your write?

ALOT. I have tracks specifically for skekGra, that take me to his frame of mind. Even TDC soundtrack at times, the puppet show song and the blue flame part 2 are on replay a lot. 

14. Are you a morning, day, evening, or night writer?

I am all over the place. My life is very hectic. I’d like to say its usually in the afternoon of evening for me, the house is settled down and things are silent but thats not always how it works out. Oftentimes I will sit down and write a reply or two, then dip to do mundane human things that adults do, then return back for a few more replies. 

15. How does tiredness affect your writing?

Kills it. The weekends I work long hours therefor my brain is like WHAAAT. 

16. What is your biggest obstacle to writing every day, if time doesn’t count?

It is always TIME. Sometimes stress levels can be an obstacle too, no lie. If something major is going on, I just throw my hands up like ‘I got nothin’’ and thats that.

17. How many drafts is a paralyzing amount?

Oh damn. Been there done that. I am much more picky about it nowadays. I try to limit skekGra to a certain number of replies because he also has to allow room for other muses. 

Currently: Gra has ten replies on tumblr -no actually 11 &&& 4 on discord. I am two shakes away from cutting HIM OFF! lol. 

18. Is there anything character-wise or writing style-wise that you can’t stand?

I’m open to different characters, I have written with a lot. I love a writer who has style, I appreciate the effort.  

Etiquette, manners and consideration are oftentimes LACKING as of late. 

19. What kind of anonymous questions are your favorite?

ANYTHING as long as it is not anon HATE. 

20. What is your weakest point in writing? Angst, fluff, dialogue, etc.?

T I M E not having enough time to write the angst fluff and dialogue, smut too lets be real. It really is a bummer to me when I  do not have the time, I work, I have a a lotta responsibilities, my life is like a hurricane a lot of the time so TIME is my weakness, oftentimes I am super J E L L O of people who are online all day, every day, always there I’m envious and I get writers FOMO which makes me laugh but its so damn true I could ugly laugh cry about it.