#i am AWESOME at planning events

[magicalmanhattanproject]

man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am

so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!

[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]

They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.

But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)

[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]

Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.

The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.

[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]

Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.

[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]

And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.

Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.

Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.

And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!

And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.

And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.

[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]

There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures

1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.

2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps

3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.

But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!

[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]

Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.

We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)

and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it

#sorrelposting #qsmp

[yrluvjane]

thankyou for writing the req. it was so so so sweet. i have like so many ideas, i love that you wanted more. like we know our dear Jamie is a simp, right? like in the best way of course. how about a reader who could give James a run for his money? like it's well known that she flirts with everyone and never means it. it's kind of her personality. very James coded actually. like she looks like she's a little in love with all her friends. and our boy cannot figure out if she likes him or is just being her usual self.

Send them all! Even if I can't write them, I die just reading them! It's a bit late I'm so sorry darling, i had my exams and i just finished them today.

You've always been popular, always the life of the party, always the center of attention. No matter where you went, people always seem to gravitate towards you, drawn to your charismatic charm and energy. And you can't help but be flattered, of course. It's always nice to have so many friends, and so many admirers.

James was always amazed at how you interacted with others, making everyone feel special in their own way.

It's the way you can make everyone feel like the center of attention, the way you can bring out the best in people, the way you can make everyone in the room laugh. It's like you're the master of all social skills. You could chat up a stranger in an elevator, make them feel like a friend in minutes.

At first, James was reluctant to admit - to himself and others - that there may be a chance he was developing feelings for you. He thought it was just another example of your natural charm, but as time went on, he realized that he was falling hard. He always found himself seeking you out at every party or event, hoping to spend just a few more minutes in your company. He found himself longing for your laughter, your smile, your touch.

But then, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy whenever he saw you smiling at someone else or laughing at their joke. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, who made you laugh.

In the beginning, it was subtle. James would always find ways to touch you - small caresses, quick grazes - to grab your attention, to make you feel special.

He would laugh at your jokes, even the bad ones.

And yet, he could never quite figure out if you felt the same.

And then, one day, he asked you on a date.

James hesitated at first, afraid of what the answer might be, but then he thought of the regret he would feel if he didn't take the chance.

You said yes.

But even then, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. You were always flirtatious, and James didn't know if your yes was genuine or simply a continuation of your open personality.

"What if she doesn't actually like me? What if she thinks i just meant like a friend-date?"

Sirius scoffed, "James, don't be ridiculous. She wouldn't have said yes if she didn't want to go on out with you. And I wouldn't be anywhere near here if I thought all this preparing would be a waste of time. You can't back out now, you've been waiting months for this!"

James wasn't sure if were months but yeah maybe he was counting down the days to this. He had carefully selected his outfit, making sure everything was just right. And he had prepared himself for the date, researching the perfect conversation topics and making sure he had a backup plan in case the conversation ran dry. He's tongue has gone awfully numb from the amount of minty breath spray he'd sprayed and fingers aching from running them through his hair all the time.

He turned and looked himself in the mirror jumping lightly on his heels. "I've got this," James told himself. "I can be confident, charismatic, and charming - just like I am in every other aspect of my life." He rolled back his shoulders.

Sirius stared at his friend in amusement, as James continued his self-motivation. "I'm awesome. I'll show her that."

James faced his friend with a new found confidence, "I'm ready!" He declared as though he would be walking into battle.

"That's the spirt, Prongsie!...Where are you going?"

"To wait for her."

"There's still an hour left."

"What if she arrives early? First impressions are very important. Can't have her think I'm some tardy twat." James smiled and winked at his friend as he walked through the door.

#marauders era #james potter #james potter x reader #harry potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #harry potter #james potter drabble #james potter fluff #james potter blurb

[miloformula123fan]

Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader where he's got into crash and she's worried because she thinks he'll never got the chance to know that she's pregnant? Add something you'd like. Thanks :))

ahahah, i know i just said that i was gonna halt updates, but then i churned this out kinda quick haha :)

it is kind of short though so apologies :)

if you want to participate in my 100 followers event, look here :)

(hint hint: this closes on Thursday 1st March 0:00 GMT, so if you want to make a request do so soon because this is in a little more than a week when publishing this :))

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

fernando alonso x wife!reader

“Be safe, please, mi amor.” he held Fernando in her arms as he paused getting ready to turn around and look at her.

“I am always Carina… Podium on the cards for today haha” He smiled

“Ha, got a surprise for you after the race…if you get a podium today of course.” She looked down, smiling, thinking of the surprise she had planned.

“A nice surprise I hope carina…” He winked and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the implications of his flirty statement, and the blushes of the mechanics who had heard their conversation.

“Not that kind of surprise, but I think you’ll be happy nonetheless…” She smiled knowingly as he looked slightly puzzled before the activity seemed to pick up and was aware he needed to start getting ready.

“As long as you are feeling better than you were this morning I will always be happy.” He smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

She gave him his traditional pre race good luck kiss and then his helmet was on his head and he was in the car.

Y/N snuck into Nando’s room, being let in by his trainer Alex. She placed the box on his massage table. It was a pretty simple box, all that was inside was a sonogram, a baby onesie and the positive pregnancy test that was gonna change their lives. 

She’d been feeling sick for a couple of weeks now, and when she’d missed her period she’s had a hunch as to what it could be, but it wasn’t until she had bailed on a triple header because she hadn’t been feeling well, that she’d had time to take the test, freak out about how positive it was.

(she’d called Mark in a panic, and then he’d added Jenson to the call in his panic and then they’d just had Mark, Seb and Jenson on a call freaking out, not helping her to calm down in the slightest, but making her laugh. Eventually Hanna had tried to work out what the fuck was going on with her husband, and had provided some actually useful advice)

Following Hanna’s advice, she’d gone to the doctors and gotten the ultrasound photo. She’d sent Hanna and Lance a photo of the ultrasound, to thank Hanna for her help in the boys panic call, and to let Lance know that he would be the godfather (she thought Nando would like that) but not to tell Nando, as she hadn’t told him yet, but she needed to tell someone. The doctor had confirmed that everything was going okay and that she was about 10 weeks along. Y/N had immediately spotted the onesie online and ordered it, preparing to tell Nando whenever she saw him. The onesie arrived fairly quickly, however, trying to keep the onesie, the test and the sonogram hidden from him for the week that he was home before the Spanish grand prix. She wanted him to know immediately because they’d been trying for so long and so many fails that it was a fucking miracle right now.

Their miracle. Their miracle baby.

Finally the week had arrived and she’d hidden the box with Nando’s personal trainer, who handed it to her after she’d given her good luck wishes to him and he’d sat in the car. She made sure to make it back for the start of the race, so as to not raise any suspicion. And then it was lights out and away they went.

The race had been going well for Fernando. Actually better than well. He was in P2, not even a second behind Perez. It had been helpful that Max had had his first mechanical failure in like 5 years, taking him out of the lead, and promoting everyone up a place. And now Fernando was contending for the lead. Y/N was so excited for him, she couldn’t wait to see him on the top step of the podium and then tell him the awesome news.

Of course then it all went horribly wrong.

Crofty’s voice filled her ears, “AND THAT’S FERNANDO ALONSO GOING FOR THE LEAD OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX GOING FOR HIS 33RD WIN GOING AROUND THE OUTSIDE OF SERGIO PEREZ AND THEY TOUCH AND THAT’S BOTH OF THEM GOING INTO THE BARRIERS AND OUT OF THE RACE WHICH PROMOTES LANDO NORRIS INTO THE LEAD OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX AND THAT’S A BIG CRASH. FERNANDO IS WEDGED BETWEEN PEREZ AND THE BARRIERS, AND HIS CHASSIS LOOKS CRUSHED and we are really hoping that he is okay there.”

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

No response.

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

Y/N could feel her legs getting weak, and could tell that the people around her were holding her up. She remembers being introduced to Shakira at the start of grand prix, and she complimented her nails. She could feel the nails digging into her left arm, which meant that Shakira was holding her up right now, and if Fernando's life wasn’t at threat, she might be fangirling right now. Still no response.

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

No response. Their miracle wasn’t going to meet their dad

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

fuck.

“And while i’m not entirely sure why Fernando wasn’t responding on the radio just then, but I can now tell you that he is walking out of the crash and he seems all okay.”

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief and tried standing up while letting out wet sobs. She knew she was probably on TV right now, looking a mess, being held up by Shakira and crying when her husband was all okay, but that didn’t matter.

Because Fernando was okay.

She followed his progress on the TV as the team moved the focus to Lance and potentially getting him a win. But she tracked him until he was back in the garage and back safe in her arms. Whispering his reassurances to her.

This was also being broadcast, but she didn’t care. 

He was safe and he was in her arms.

Y/N followed Fernando into his driver's room, entirely forgetting about the surprise that she had left in his room until they came in and she saw the box sitting on the massage table. 

Fernando turned around to her in confusion, “Did you leave this here Carina?”

“Uhh, yeah but it’s nothing, it was supposed to be a surprise for when you got your podium, so look at it later maybe…”

Within 2 strides Fernando was at the box and lifting off the lid. There goes the plan of telling him when he was in a good mood.

Fernando pulled out the onesie, black with a message of ‘daddy’s little race engineer’. Maybe Y/N’s hormones were hitting hard today because the sight of Nando holding a baby onesie was enough to bring her to tears, imagining Nando holding their baby.

“What is this carina?”

“It’s ummm, the surprise I mentioned before…I wanted you to see it when you got your podium, so you can ignore it I guess…”

“No, no, I mean, why is there a sonogram, baby onesie and pregnancy test in here? Is Lance having a baby and wanting to let me know I was the godfather?”

“No, no, mi sol, it’s ours.”

“Ours?”

“Our baby.”

Y/N watched as Fernando processed the words. And then all of a sudden she was being picked up and spun around in a hug as Fernando cried at her.

“Our baby…oh Carina…our baby! I’m so happy right now.”

He was practically yelling, so a few team members came to see what was going on. And then walked in on a happy couple, sobbing to each other as they curled up on the floor. A baby onesie in one’s hands, and the sonogram in the other.

And all of a sudden the media could wait.

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206, @tallrock35, @janeholt3

#f1 x reader #miloformula123fan #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso x female reader #f1 x female reader #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x y/n

[pigidin]

OKAY. Am I the only one fascinated by how much Alastor in s1 has interacted with other demons and built a potential for considerable amount of different, broad and unique relationships? With All of them being non-romantic/sexual?

I really don't wanna dive into the discourse of shipping coz honestly, I do think that erasing Al's aroaceness is not cool at all. Personally, I don't see him wishing any romance/sex at all, and well. Considering how platonic he actually is throughout the season, it kinda seems like people forget that friendship (or basically anything non rom-sex) exists in the first place.

Coz, like, let's see what we got::

Vox -- probably one-sided (psychosexual) crush from Vox with possible past friendship between them, them hating on each other yet having (used to have) some respect as well. The ANGST, the drama (for both of sides). Insert aroace troubles (possible aphobia from Vox? Or not? He may be biggest ally as well!) and Vox's petty feelings that are insanely interesting to explore (and laugh at).

Lucifer -- immediate hate that (with a course of events) can turn into forced bonding. The potential of queerplatonic parenting of Charlie is HUGE here. Insecurities from Al? Forced care? Banters? SHENANIGANS? Luci patching up Al after battle, prolly discovering his deal and them slowly bonding on shared interests? Hey.

Rosie -- literal established queerplatonic partners, married for tax benefits, spending their evenings gossiping, hating on Susan and Al rolling his eyes on another romance-rel drama Rosie was trying to help sb with. Rosie can have insane influence on him whether it is understanding modern things or just being with him when he needs it. It also gives off mom/son to me.

Husk -- fucked up master-pet not-friendship with probable care rooted since they were closer in past. Is it toxic? Yes. Is it giving off some problematic dynamic? Sure. Yet it's fucking complex on its core considering pilot, bits and pieces of their interaction and how easily Husk used to insult Al until he overstepped. Them two are quite similar if you think about it and if Al got over his ego it could benefit him a lot.

Niffty -- daugther/father dynamic with them sharing one sadistic-psycho braincell and genuinely enjoying each other's quirks. Protective Al? I just need more Niff and them two being partners in the most outrageous crimes.

Mimzy -- friendship going since they were humans, with them having an amazing (potential) backstory of sharing evenings on two. Al enjoying her company as well as being protective and helpful to her with nothing in return.

Charlie -- manipulated into trusting you as a dad figure? Don't tell me there is nothing below Al's creepy plans or that he wouldn't grow to care for her. He already is proud of her and finds amusement in her inspiration-skills (also, performance is his thing for a reason)

Angel -- I was honestly kinda upset we didn't see any interactions between them except one sex joke, coz my past era of Hunicasts was a fuel to their duo. Them bonding over how different they are is the best description of their dynamic. Also banters and body-puns.

You can't just erase Alastor from interacting with people, but putting him inside boxes of allonormative relationships while he has such a fucking huge potential for everything beyond just that - is quite.. disappointing. People turning a blind eye to a wide variety of relationships he can have (potential to which is set in canon) for the sake of just romance/sex is low key sad.

It's AWESOME to see ppl actually understanding it and.. damn THANKS to everyone who explores Al's relationship with others without it involving final wish to stick tongues into places. Dynamics can be interesting and exciting without it.

I really don't wanna project my romance-aversion onto Al, but when romance and sex is one thing you see everywhere.. it's hard to just let it slip.

You are allowed to do whatever you want, exploring physical intimacy is fun as well, and having Al, well, there are bunch of ways to show it with respecting his orientation and the fact that IT AFFECTS RELATIONSHIPS/ATTRACTIONS but please just don't make it the center of your attention, the one thing relationship revolves around, coz sadly it's just exactly how it looks like from some folks.

#hazbin hotel #aromantic #hazbin hotel alastor #aroace alastor #aromantic alastor #asexual alastor #asexual #radiostatic #onewaybroadcast #radioapple #appleradio #radiorose #radiohusk #radiodust #charlastor #alastor x mimzy #<- as duos/dynamics/nonrom ships #NOT IN SHIP-SHIP WAY #i mostly made this post just to express how MUCH i like the fact that canon explores Al so broadly #im kinda Al multishipper. just. not romantically #it turned into discourse at the end didn't it? #my aro ass is sorry #but not really #i just want more attention to a platonic side of relationship #whoever it is with honestly #and i'm done seeing people almost erasing every single platonic interaction after romantic/sexual ones are introduced #i love ppl being intimate yet remaining platonic tho

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Would you mind sharing your planning process of the comic? I'm starting to brainstorm a fiction idea and right now the ideas are very messy and I wanted to know if you could show how you plan what happens on a season and on an episode, maybe with an example of a season episode you already published, so I can learn how to organize myself?

I really, REALLY appreciate you coming to ask me for help with this. It's awesome to hear that you respect my writing enough to seek me out as an authority on such things, or at least enough to ask for advice.

But I'm gonna be real with you - what you're asking for is not a quick slapdash reply that I can whip up in my free time. What you're asking for is an hour long video essay (with examples) on the level of an educational creative writing online course.

And I--I don't know if I have it in me to do that right now. Not with everything else I'm trying to do. (Sorry.)

BUT.

What I can give you instead is a basic rundown, and maybe some recommendations for where to this stuff.

To be absolutely brief: For me, the best way to visualize how I plan would be to make a flowchart.

Keep in mind that....... I don't ever actually.......MAKE. A flowchart.

Mostly, I am just using this as a visual representation of how my ideas flow from and to each other in a coherent way. The reality is that this skill is something you have to develop until it becomes second nature.

As an example, let's take the episode(s) where I introduced Seaglass.

This little arc was planned in season 3, but really started to come into play in Season 4.

To make it happen, I started with the obvious main idea: SEAGLASS.

I then broke it down into multiple smaller ideas:

If you notice, the main plot of this doesn't even start when the Seaglass exposition does. Steven makes Seaglass back in season 3, but doesn't know about it. But these ideas are still important to acknowledge as being a part of the main plot.

I then fill in MORE space between these larger ideas.

This whole set of steps is just a logical progression of me playing 'how do we get there'. I make up plot points and say 'what happens to get from A to B?'

And keep in mind - this may seem kinda obvious. That's because... it should be! But that's how the planning happens.

Realistically, it's just a bunch of asking myself questions. The same exact questions I refuse to answer in asks.

"What happens next? What would happen if....?" "Why doesn't Steven know about ....?"

"How would Steven find Seaglass if he doesn't know she exists?"

Well she's small and green, kinda like Peridot. So he goes looking for Peridot and mistakes Seaglass for her.

BAM! You've got yourself a plot point. That's a plan, baybee!

And then just kinda rinse and repeat.

And eventually, you want to make sure that you have some sort of connection back to the main plot point. In this case, it's the realization that Steven CREATED LIFE.

Again, I want to stress - I don't actually........plan.... by writing this down.

I do this process in my head. Often, multiple times per chapter, writing and editing to make it make more and more sense. The important part is about asking yourself questions. The same questions your readers should be asking.

"Why is this character doing this?" "Why is this event happening NOW?" "How will A find out when they realize what B has done?" "What is the BEST time for B to find out...? What is the WORST time?"

All of this takes imagination. It isn't about organization. It's moreso about learning to tetris plot events into their most snug spaces. It's about thinking of events as a staircase, which eventually leads to a larger staircase of plot arcs.

And as a final note, I will say that someday, when I'm less busy, I may make a video about plot. But it will take more time and effort, and for now, please just watch videos by other creators! I'm sure they're just as good at it as I am.

#chekhov answers #plot

[deyisacherry]

Behold, TSAMS AU

"And I want you to remember something. If Sun blasted you and he ended up dead, I will go to every dimension that exists; I don't care if you have the star or not, and every evil version of you, I will make sure is ripped, limb from limb. That will be my life's purpose."

In our line, Moon swore that if he returned to his dimension and Sun was dead, he would dedicate himself to kill every Eclipse in every dimension relentlessly.

So, in an alternate line where events are similar, what would happen if Sun died after blasting Eclipse into the portal with his power?

In this AU, Moon returned to his dimension only to see Sun had died.

After trying every way to bring his brother back, and failing, Moon decided to fulfill his oath.

This Moon dedicates himself to travel between dimensions, hunting down every evil Eclipse he can find. Nicknamed through these as "Moonter", by Lunar's idea combining the title "Hunter" with his name. And in a deformed way as "Monster" by the Eclipses who have found out about his existence.

77 and counting, he records on a handheld device the number of Eclipses he has removed. Likewise, he created an interdimensional communicator with the computers of his dimension, to keep him informed of the total number of Eclipses he has and those that are left, locate the next dimensions, and...

To contact his family.

Moon lost Sun. He lost him in a short, abrupt time, barely getting to know him since Old Moon's memories in his dimension were erased. He regrets and blames himself every day for losing him. He's never going to forgive himself.

But Moon still has his siblings, Earth and Lunar, waiting for him.

He can't always be there, but he does what he can to visit, to know what they've been doing, to rest, recharge, and obtain more materials and formulate more plans to continue on his mission.

He won't stop until he has eliminated the last of them.

My beloved friend @leivyathan gave me this awesome idea! And who am I to deny it? Especially if it's about Moon! Thanks to her for helping me with all the inspiration and creativity! We'll both be working on this whenever we have the time!<3

Questions, fanarts, etc are appreciated!

#the sun and moon show #the sun and moon show au #sun and moon show #sun and moon show au #tsams #tsams au #tsams moon #tsams sun #tsams earth #tsams eclipse #tsams lunar #tsams fanart #sams au #sams moon #sams lunar #sams eclipse #sams sun #sams earth #sams fanart #traveler avenger au #tsams traveler avenger au #sams traveler avenger au #moon tsams #moon sams #moon tsams au #moon sams au

[snaillock]

prompt 1 and/or 6 w Shidou or Karasu x male! reader? i’m fine w gn! as well :)) thank youu <33

this was supposed to be a halloween themed fic since i got this in october but….. also can’t believe ive never written for shidou b4 holy shit

prompt 1: "what are you do-" "look, now we match!" (feat. shidou ryusei) tags: male!reader

event masterlist

you stood outside in the dark for god knows how long until you finally saw your boyfriend’s car pull up to the curb. you opened the door and quickly got in to escape the cold.

“took you long en- ah! oh god!” you yelped as you took in the sight before you. your odd eccentric little boyfriend, shidou, in the driver’s seat. not only was his face completely covered in face paint, making his usual tanned skin completely white, but it also had a red line of lipstick smeared across his lips, paired with dark smokey eyeshadow. all of that topped off with bright green hair worn down which was a very rare sight.

“jesus christ ryu… why do you look like that? why are you dressed as the joker?” you asked frantically, “don’t we have a party to get to right now?”

“chill out babe… it’s a costume party anyway,” he grinned at your startled reaction, “i didn’t tell you before ‘cause you would totally back out if i did.”

“yeah, you’re right. i definitely would,” you let out a resigned sigh before running your fingers through his now neon green hair. “did you really dye your hair for this costume?” you asked.

“don’t worry,” shidou said nonchalantly, slightly leaning into the touch, “it’s just a temporary dye. one wash and i’ll be back to normal.”

“right, ‘normal,’” you muttered before checking if any green got on your hand. which thankfully, none did. “well i don’t have any costume and i don’t wanna be that fucking guy who shows up to a costume party with no costume so i guess we just gotta cancel plans.” you said, in hopes you can finally escape the party you just didn’t feel like attending.

“wait! don’t worry, i got the perfect thing for that! just close your eyes,” shidou said before rustling through a shopping bag he had in the back seat.

“oh god,” you mumbled before hesitantly closing your eyes, “what are you do-“

you grunted when your words got interrupted by his hands slipping something onto your head and over your face.

“tada!” he said triumphantly as he released whatever hard plasticky material he just placed over your head, “look, now we match!”

you glanced at the overhead mirror to see a mask now on your face, specifically a batman mask. the hard black material stopping right above your nostrils. it suited the long black coat that you just so happened to wear tonight very well, too well actually.

“ryu… are we really going to this party as batman and the joker?” you said apprehensively as you stared at yourself in the mirror with a subtle scowl, unsure of going out like this.

“yeah, come on! it’s just another one of my genius ideas.” he leaned over and wrapped his arm around your shoulders while you glared at him, knowing how his “genius” plans usually go.

you rolled your eyes, though deep down his antics had you feeling slightly amused. you then sighed, “oh what am i gonna do with you, ryu?”

he admired the way you two looked in the tiny mirror with a large grin on his face exaggerated by his dramatic makeup. “god, we look fucking awesome. we’re gonna be the hottest couple in there.”

he then gave you a big and obnoxiously loud kiss on your cheek, leaving a red lip print behind, before starting up the car.

“woah ryu, you’re about to cause a big scandal if batman gets caught kissing the joker.” you let out a soft laugh, playing into his antics, as you wiped the makeup off with your hand. the crack in your unsure demeanor only makes him laugh along with you.

“oh we are so winning the costume contest i signed us up for.”

“wait, you did what?!”

i looked up batman masks on google images and i’m giggling why do they look so fucking goofy

taglist(sign up here!): @leosxrealm @lucas2060 @kiiyoooo @remy-roll @maochira @catmisu @stxxrboy

#★ snail.writes ★ #blue lock x reader #shidou x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #blue lock x male reader #shidou x male reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock drabbles #bllk x reader #bllk x male reader

[starrdevereauxx]

The Session

By Starr Devereauxx

Being a photographer in Los Angeles has truly been quite the ordeal. I love the freedom of it, but everyone thinks they are a star in this city. I love what I do. The creativity of it. Makes my heart truly smile. There are some mornings that I just get up with my camera and take pictures on my morning walk. It’s a calming feeling just being one with nature, camera in hand.

This morning I woke up refreshed and somewhat nervous for today’s client. I’ve worked with him before but since we have been following each other on social media and making a connection creatively, I find myself becoming more interested and intrigued with him. I met him at a vendor’s booth at a local festival 2 years ago and we have been working together ever since. He called because he wanted to take some new pictures for an upcoming business expo and he wanted to mix up his photos since he’s the keynote speaker this year. Of course I jumped at the chance to be there for him, this is a big moment for him and I’m glad to be apart of the creative process for him.

We scheduled for a Saturday morning, the weather was planned to be great that day and that made for good lighting. I was following his lead on location for the shoot. He picked an open field, not too far from my home actually. I almost felt this was weird, because I thought he would want to use a cityscape since it was for a business type event. But this was he vision and I didn’t want to take away from where he saw it going.

I arrived and he was standing there waiting on me. I think I should have worn something a little more comfortable, I almost feel like I’m about to get dirty wearing this. But what the hell, it’s all business.

“Hey Zeke! Bright and early I see” I said to him gingerly.

“Yeah mamas, early bird catches the worm. You know how I am Dev.” He said almost suggestively.

I’ve grown to know Zeke pretty well, and that’s a man that doesn’t play about his business, so yeah, I know how he is in that sense.

“So my idea is to go to the top of this hill and catch all the scenery in the back, just me against the world so to speak.. you get it Dev?” Zeke smiled.

“I sure do, I see it perfectly. But are we supposed to hike up there? I should have worn better shoes. I wish I would have known, I would have brought help for my gear” I said nervously.

“I’m all the help you need, I got you” Zeke looked at me and assured me. I almost took it the wrong way, but I knew he couldn’t possibly be talking to me that way. Something about when Zeke talks to me, I take him super seriously. He just doesn’t play about his shit. I admire that. If I didn’t watch it, I could easily develop a crush. But I never mix business and pleasure. Although it wouldn’t be hard to mix those two together with Zeke. He is the epitome of fine.

Zeke is 6’3, caramel complexion, beautiful black hair with the most luxuriously sexy thick beard adorned on his his face surrounding the most beautiful succulent lips you ever seen. Behind those lips, the most beautiful smile a man could ever have. If you were awesome enough, he might show it to you. Zeke didn’t smile a lot, but he always smiled around me. I took it as a compliment honestly. Zeke stayed in the gym, so his body.. chef’s fucking kiss. He never skipped leg day, shit any day. He looked amazing. But I’ve barely looked at him right? Who am I kidding? I didn’t even wear panties today, that’s how wet he makes me every time I see him. Let me stay focused so I can go home.

Zeke and I began our trek up the hill. Talking and shooting the breeze the whole way up. I’m doing my best not to die on the way up. I’m not a small woman, and I’m carrying all this equipment, trying to talk at the same time is pulling a miracle.

We make it to the top. He’s super excited to get started. I start to put my camera together and I immediately start shooting. He’s posing and doing a great job, I never seen him this into it. This isn’t our first time shooting, but he’s serving it up today. Wonder what’s gotten into him today?

We are sharing stories from our week during the shoot so there’s no uncomfortable silences while we work. There’s a look in his eyes, almost like he’s looking past the camera and looking directly at me. I’m doing my best to not overthink because if I didn’t know any better, I would think I’m getting a vibe here. But not Zeke, I’m not even his type.. at least I don’t think. I’ve never talked to him on that level. I always keep it professional.

“I have another outfit, let me change” Zeke stops me.

I turn red immediately. Change? Where nigga? There’s no bathroom here. He begins to take his clothes off and let me tell you, he truly misses no days at the gym. He takes off his pants and I don’t know what that family size Pringles can is laying on his left leg is, but he should call a doctor and get that checked. I’m choking from here and I haven’t even gotten on my knees, that’s how big it is.

I swallowed slowly and turned around like I wasn’t staring that whole time. I’m sure he caught me gawking at him like a ravenous beast. But I keep it professional, so he didn’t see me.. right?

“Dev, you ready? You can turn around now” Zeke said softly.

I turn around, but his pants weren’t up yet. Not only were they not up, other items had been removed. He’s ass naked. I stare, mouth agape.

“Zeke, what part of the game is this?” I said with my voice literally shaking.

“I didn’t want to be prepared for this. I want some pictures of me nude. Professional ones, and I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do them. I didn’t want to ask first, so I thought I would just surprise you…. Surprise” he said slowly.

“Well hell yeah, this is truly a surprise, but I don’t mind. I got you. This is art, and that’s all I see this as. You displaying your art. I got this. I got this” I said trying to convince myself that I don’t want his dick in every hole I have. He’s so gorgeous I’d let him fuck my inner ear cavity. So I’m gonna sit here, do my job and lie to myself like I don’t want him to blow my back out.

We begin working again. This time some wind picked up, just my luck because now he’s sporting a giant erection. I can’t ignore this. I’m trying hard, I’m trying as hard as his dick is.. and that’s REALLY hard.

“Can you help me pose for this next part? I wanna make sure I have a good angle.” He said sharply.

POSE HIM!? Touch Zeke while he’s naked! I can’t do this. I’m gonna give him his money back and leave. I can’t do this. If I touch him, I’m gonna most definitely be unprofessional. I don’t wanna lose a client this way.

“Sure” I gulped.

I walked over to him slowly. Slow like a man on death row, because I knew it wasn’t gonna go well when I touched him. At this point I’m not even giving him eye contact anymore. I reach out to touch him to pose him and he quickly grabs my hand and takes my camera out of my hand.

My pulse is fucking racing triple time. I think I’m having a panic attack. Oh no, I fucked up. He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him.

“It’s okay to look at me Dev, I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m just naked. Is that okay? Is my dick being out bothering you?” He said in the most gentle deepest voice possible. His voice felt like a subwoofer booming in my panties. He’s got me so wet, my jeans are finished.

“I.. I just wasn’t prepared for this today Zeke, I just came to take your pictures. It feels like something else is happening here now” I can’t even feel myself breathing.

Zeke looks in my wide innocent looking eyes, and grabs the nape of my neck and pulls me close to him and says “Something else can happen right now if you want, if you don’t want it to, just say the word and I’ll respect your word”

I remained silent.

“Come here” he said as he kissed me and held my face in one hand and my camera in the other hand.

He places my camera on top of my backpack next to him. He takes his other hand and pulls me closer to him. I feel that giant dick pressing against me and grazes my pelvis. I inhale deeply like he put it in me already. My body is starting to feel limp. He’s taking all my energy with every kiss he takes from me. My hands begin to run up and down his chiseled body. He feels amazing all over. How the fuck did we get here? I just came to work. Now I’m in the middle of a field, in the middle of nowhere making out with my naked client.

I begin to kiss all over his neck all over his chest and down his stomach. I can literally see the main vein in his giant member pulsating, literally waiting to make itself a home in my throat. I’m salivating just making my way down. I bow down before him like I’m about to give thanks and gratitude on both of my knees. This head is about to be religious. I’m ready to give my best in this moment.

I part my lips and gently greeting the tip to the warmth of my mouth. Letting his dick get acquainted with my wet face hole. This will be one of the 3 holes he meets today, so I wanted him to feel the difference between the three. Pursing my lips and allowing him to sleep past my opening straight to my uvula. Punching it with each stroke he takes as he simultaneously covers it in precum.

So here I am, in the middle of this feild, being throat fucked to no end. Zeke’s head is tilted all the way back in the air as he moans into the great wide open. My great wide open is becoming wetter as I sit here on my knees, waiting for my holes to be used. He’s gagging me so hard I almost throw up, but my gag reflexes are stronger than his thrusts.

“I’m so fucking close, I’m gonna paint your fucking throat” Zeke screams out as I am sitting here waiting for him to Picasso me with his ejaculation. He strokes harder and harder, saliva is pouring from the sides of my mouth as my tongue licks all over his shaft and tip. He starts to pick up the pace even more, harder and faster until….

My face is covered in cum. Dripping out of my mouth and covering my lips. My throat is coated. I know I must have seriously swallowed a lot because there was more that came out than what’s covering me.

Zeke stares at me in amazement.

“I think this changes our business relationship a bit Dev” he says while touching my face, rubbing his cum into my lips.

“I want more, my pussy is aching for you to be inside me” I reply to him, uncovering my engorged clit and soaked pussy. Showing him what I want him to destroy.

“How bad do you want me right now Dev? I want you to beg for my dick” Zeke says with all authority in his voice.

He walks over to her, reaching for her. She reaches out her hand, he moves it and grabs her by the neck. She instantly climaxes in his hands. He’s holding Dev his hands as she drops all over the tall grass.. he moves in close to kiss her cum covered lips.

And then…

To be continued.

#ginger pussy #onlyf@nz #+18 or +adult only #sexy content #18+ content #spicy content #watch me masturbate #starrdevereauxxtales💋 #submisive and breedable

[rhysdarbinizedarby]

Rhys Darby returns to New Zealand for two huge milestones - Spy

Rhys Darby is back in New Zealand.

Why is Kiwi comedy star Rhys Darby back in New Zealand?

Rhys Darby is returning from his base in Los Angeles for a double celebration over the next few weeks - his 50th birthday and a special event to mark his 25 years working as a stand-up comic.

“I’m home for my 50th birthday celebrations,” he reveals to Spy.

Darby hits the big milestone on March 21 and says he, his wife and manager Rosie are planning on a shared party with their family and friends.

A week later, Darby will be in proud parent mode as his eldest son Finn’s band, Great Big Cow, will be performing at The Whammy Bar on Karangahape Rd on March 27.

“So, as a cool dad, I’ll be there of course, with my band manager suit on,” he says.

There will be fun and laughter to have on Waiheke Island the following week too. Popular island spot Wild Estate Vineyard in Onetangi has secured Darby for an exclusive one-off New Zealand show with an intimate audience of only 200 tickets.

Punters can be sure Darby’s will be giving the native birds on the island a squawk for their money with his famous bird calls from his 2021 TV stand-up show Mystic Time Bird.

“The show is called ‘25 Years’ - it is a celebration of my stand-up career,” say Darby.

“I’ve hand-picked the best material from my five comedy specials, and I’ve also added some new stuff,” he divulges. “It’s all killer, so the audience can expect me having a blast, and so I’m sure they will too.”

Wild Estate has become the go-to live venue on Waiheke for comedy and live gigs; last month, the Jordan Luck Band rocked the vineyard, and comedians Nick Rado, Tony Lyall, Paul Douglas and Ruby Esther have all had successful stand-up nights there too.

Darby has been home several times over the last few years, whether to film with his mate Taika Waititi in West Auckland for the second season of their hit HBO Max show Our Flag Means Death in late 2022, or his Kiwi road trip with David Hasselhoff called Hoff the Beaten Track last spring.

Darby finished the year with aplomb, hosting the 51st International Emmy Awards in New York in November.

The production company for his road trip show, Stripe Studios, made headlines last month with the New Zealand Herald’s Media Insider column, penned by Shayne Currie, reporting Stripe for unpaid bills. The production company also filmed a travel-style show with US comedian Iliza Shlesinger. Currie reported the Netflix comedy star is applying to have Stripe Studios (Comedy) Ltd liquidated. Stuff followed up this story, reporting Hasselhoff was also owed money from the production company.

Darby politely had no comment on the state of his and The Hoff’s road trip show, but sources say Darby played a big part in getting as many of its Kiwi crew as he could paid by Stripe.

However, Darby did share that Hollywood has been rather wet and dull so far this year. “I have a few top-secret TV and film projects in development, which I am really looking forward to.”

“What I can reveal is: I’ve been involved in Mukpuddy’s awesome adaptation of Badjelly the Witch,” he says.

“I think it’s going to be so so good!”

Source: NZ Herald

#rhys darby #ofmd #nz herald

[yanderederee]

MurderMystery

「探偵 場地！」

April29th, 2004

a/n: I felt inspired to rewrite this in a fun drabble idea♡ I was sad the opportunity was only given a five page spread, so I took matters into tutor!reader’s hands:)

shoutout to @tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang for kindly helping me locating the bonus chapter link, so I may refresh myself on all the specifics regarding the deduction quiz (spoiler; the only clue pointed out is the ‘murder tool’/pill bottle.)

before! › here! › after!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

*i am not a medical professional; all drug/medications/ailments are either made up or should not be looked into as truth!

To say the least , you were ecstatic when Ryusei recruited you for this role.

Based on how Chifuyu and he had explained it to you, Baji was actually excited to try solving a detective case of his own.

They had even already dragged the ever so willing Mitarai into this plan as well.

You and Mitarai were friends. The both of you were very good in academics, and keeping patience with the overzealous boys in front of you.

The two of you huddled together that same day, whispering to eachother different plans and hints to lay around as clues.

“So, who is the killer?” You asked the genuine poindexter.

You could tell he was flustered by your closeness. You didn’t mind though, nerds were cute.

Mitarai looked over your compiled notes in critical fashion. Collaborating back and forth on the matter, you truly felt like the case would be a hit.

After about a half hour of planning, giggling, and whispering to one another, you could feel a heavy presence looked over your back. Automatically breaking out into a smile, you threw your hands across the desk to hide all evidence.

“What’re you doing?” Baji asked, flat. It was a simple question, yet the dark glint of jealousy glared obvious.

You could tell Baji was addressing how close you had been getting to Mitarai, but you thought jealous boys were cuter; better to play coy.

“Creating an awesome case,” you admitted, pulling all the papers that littered your desk into one big pile, to which you organized out of his view. “I’m actually really excited to come up with this!”

Mitarai made an attempt in hopping into the conversation. “Y/n is quite good at this! She had written a sequence of events in only a matter of seconds. Though, I admit her knowledge in…. ‘forensics’ is a little unnerving.” he murmured.

You shrugged with pride, putting the papers into a manila folder, and into your bag.

“I’ll have the materials for the operation by tomorrow. I’m gonna go consult with the victim of this case~”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

You bend down, checking for any sign of life. Your blood ran cold. “Detective, he…. He’s dead.” You announce to the room. Baji bends down, patting your arm so to dismiss you from the corpse. “This bottle looks suspicious…” he murmured seriously.

Chifuyu grinned wide at you and Mitarashi, giving a subtle thumbs up. You chose to remain in character, following the scripted dialogue you wrote and handed out yesterday (that everyone barely mesmerized in time).

Normally, Baji would love to solve this kind of thing on his own. But you knew better than anyone, that without direction, Baji would soon become irritable and fume with frustration. He just needed to notice the clues, without telling him he found a clue. Make it seem like he figured it out himself.

“Here is Sora Ijuuin’s file,” you handed Baji a small packet of paper, containing a profile shot of Chuu, some blurbs of false medical history, and reposts given by neighbors on the events leading up to the victim’s demise. “Please look over it carefully..”

“Thank you assistant.” He acknowledged shortly. Looking over the file, it took him a few minutes, but eventually he stood in haste.

Ijuuin Sora, date of birth: 03/07/1980, blood type: B, marital status: married.

- Statement given by Neighbor [1]: “That voice of his [Sora Ijuuin] sure does carry! Just three days ago, I could hear him fighting with someone clear down the street!”

- Statement given by Neighbor [3]: “Well , there has been a suspicious looking fellow visiting that house for the past month. He visits perhaps once a week. White hair, and dark skin. Suspicious!”

“Seems Chu had a few visitors before he bit it.” Baji said suspiciously. “Satou Ryusei, what business did you have with the victim three days ago?”

Baji thought he looked so cool, keeping his glare focused on the taller boy in the room.

Excellent. First step, make Baji suspect and snuff out all clues from innocent yet suspicious figures in the room.

Ryusei played it cool, a poker face striping him of all laughing matters. “Sora and I were colleagues. We had been collaborating on a project for about a month now. I came by to discuss these matters three days ago.”

“Sound reason. You say you were simply discussing, but neighbor complains state they heard loud arguing. You two must have had a disagreement.”

Baji’s cool demeanor slowly began showing more confidence as he made his case.

“We’re both particularly passionate fellows,” Ryusei suppressed a giggle. He may have thought your script was a little over the top. “We disagreed often. But our altercations were never very loud. We always came to sound conclusions.”

“And was that conclusion murder?” Baji asked accusatively.

“I would never!”

Baji hummed. Blaming Ryusei seemed too easy. And if he learned anything from his detective shows, never go with your first guess. So, eyeing the file again he read;

- Statement given by Neighbor [3]: “…his [Sora Ijuuin] wife and I only spoke on occasion. She told me they had been dating since high school. They had gotten together thanks to a mutual friend. […] Arguments with his wife have been consistent over the years, but for the last 6 months, they have been non-stop! They become progressively louder as days pass.”

- Statement given by Acquaintance [1]: “Sora? Yeah, he and some four eyes were friends back in high school. Though, he always seemed to have a thing for his girlfriend at the time. Guess they’re still friends, saw them hanging out recently. I heard four eyes became a doctor. Good for him.”

- Statement given by Neighbor [2]: “I’ve heard rumors about resident of that house becoming recently ill! A friend of his, I presume, has been visiting often to oversee his health. I hope he’s well?”

Based on this statement repost, Baji soon began concluding that it was perhaps Chu’s “wife” may be the murderer. However, reading further, he realized this to be impossible.

- […] After a particularly heated argument, {assumedly being the disagreement of Three Days ago}, eye witness repost conclude Wife had gone to stay with her mother three days ago.

Chifuyu caught your waiting gaze, and understood the subtle nod in his direction. Playing into the role, Chifuyu settled closer to the crime scene, eying the pill bottle.

“Cause of death, overdose? But with what? … Medication? Was Mr Sora ill?”

“My colleague often complained about suffering from unexplained migraines and severe nose bleeds. I recall him mentioning these symptoms began about three months ago.”

“He met quite frequently with his at home physician to determine a diagnosis.”

“Were the physician and victim on good terms?”

“Yes. In fact, neighbor reposts state they originally thought him an old familiar friend of the victim, with how often and friendly their visits.”

“Ah! Ijuuin and I have been friends for some years now, even before he requested I oversee his declining health.” Mitarai spoke up confidently.

A shock to everyone in the room, everyone stood silent. Baji’s judgemental gaze looked over the self proclaimed physician up and down, thinking of anyway to blame him.

Dense as he was, he nodded. “A nobel friend always sticks by his friend’s side. My condolences, doctor.” Baji turned, thinking to other matters at hand.

No!! Everyone internally yelled.

Mitarashi was practically trying to be blamed, at this point!! But Baji wasn’t taking the bait.

No matter, you sighed silently, planning your second hint.

“Looks like the only evidence useful to us is this pill bottle.” Baji interjected.

You handed Baji a plastic glove, insisting he wear it before touching any evidence. After doing so, he observed the bottle.

It was medicine, plain and simple. Without even so much as a label on the bottle, it was impossible to identify further than that.

“Detective,” Chifuyu whispered to Baji, just as you described he should do in the script. “I recognize the look of this pill. Its purpose is to increase blood flow, mostly aimed for anemic patients. It doesn’t match the name of the medicine typed on the pill bottle.”

Unfortunately, Baji had no idea what the fuck ‘an anemia’ even was.

“Doctor, if you could please elaborate, what diagnosis came of your time spent together?” You asked Mitarashi. He nodded in response.

“Ijuuin described having severe nosebleeds, following his migraines. I concluded he suffered textbook side effects of overexertion.”

A medication meant to increase blood flow for a patient with frequent nose bleeds? Baji finally started putting the clues together.

“Were you the one to prescribe this medicine, doctor?” Baji asked Mitarai.

Aha!!

Mitarashi purposely showed signs of nervousness. “Y-yes! That medicine is one that regulates migraines. I-it even says it on the bottle!”

Baji smirked, dropping the bottle into a plastic, held open by Chifuyu. “We’ll see what the forensic’s team has to say about that.”

Mitarai became anxious at the mention, but chose to keep quiet. Baji hadn’t earned a confession out of him yet.

Baji really had to think now. He had evidence, but no motive. What motive would a physician have to kill his own patient? One he seemed fond of, even.

The room grew quiet, and frustration was eating up Baji’s neck. How could he get the guy to confess?

And unfortunately for Mitarashi, when Detective Baji began to feel frustrated, he had a hard time putting a cap on his emotions. In fact, he physically couldn’t.

So of course, he resorted to intimidation.

“Speakin’ of forensics, back there, I noticed there’s a pill that’s been crushed up. Almost like it was stepped on. Saaay, doc, how bout I see the underside of those shoes, huh?” Baji grinned ear to ear, eyes creasing in one-sided victory.

Mitarai gasped, red faced and shaking. It was hard to tell if it was because he was in character, or genuinely scared of Baji’s terrifying aura.

“P-please sir! Spare me!” He yelled, backing up against the door quickly, showing the underside of only one of his shoes. “There’s nothing! See! Nothing!”

Baji shook his head, and in one quick motion, bent Mitarai’s standing knee. Unable to balance himself in time, the four-eyes fell to the floor with a scream. “Well what’da ya know? What’s this blue powder here? Think we’re gonna need to send this over too, Detective Matsuno.” He chuckled.

Surely this was enough to earn his confession.

“F-fine! I swapped the medication! I’ve been giving him medicine to make him sicker and sicker f-for the last five months… but-but! … I had to!” Mitarai crocked, crocodile tears falling down his face.

Damn, Mitarai sure knew how to act!! Who would have guessed…

“Well, spit it out.” Baji hurried.

Mitarai took a few deep breaths, increasing the reveals dramatic timing. “He made Hanako cry… I’ve… loved Hanako ever since I met her, you see!” Mitarashi looked away bashfully.

“Who’s Hanako? From the Toilet?”

“That’s the name of the victims’s wife. It’s on file.”

“…oh…”

“You’ve been friends with Mr Sora since high school?” You asked the clarifying question, which finally clicked in Baji’s mind.

“Yes! She always had eyes for the obnoxious types though… so, I waited… And just as I suspected, he began to mistreat her, all over petty misunderstandings and other stupid, meaningless things! They were fighting so often, Hanako finally reached out to me to ask for advise….

“I told her to give it time. I just needed a little time… make him sick, until he died of natural causes! Than she’d finally be free! So you see, it was out of love! And it worked!” Mitarai laughed, still hysterically crying. “He’s gone now, Hanako. She can be happy now, right detective?”

Baji’s face was cold at Mitarashi’s performance.

“That’s why?” He asked. “All over a girl? Seriously?” He clicked his tongue.

You frowned at his disgust.

“What a lame reason. Whatever, we got what we came here for. Matsuno, cuff this freak.”

And just as quickly, Baji’s victory became evident with such a wide grin. “Haha! I’m a genius! Bet ya didn’t think I’d notice that stepped on pill over there did ya?” He said in your face.

You laughed in unison, and rose your hand up to give him a big high five. “I’ll admit, I was wondering how long it would take you to notice, but I had faith in you, Detective!~”

The lot of you all cheered for Baji, making his ego soar all the more. But just as you thought to stop, that adorable toothy grin of his made you swoon all over again.

While he and Chu were laughing together, Ryusei took notice of your adoring stare, and melancholy smile. “You like him, don’t you?” He asked so very quietly. As much as you could act embarrassed and deny him, you knew it would be in vain. Ryusei knew. Your smile became more flatlined.

“I do… it’s one-sided, I know… but I’m happy where I am, for now.”

Ryusei watched as you tore your gaze away, distracting yourself with cleaning up the rest of the murder scene. Out of earshot, Ryusei chuckled. “One sided, huh… Can’t say I’m so sure of that.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

Finally, after it was all said and done, the lot of you found yourselves shoved close into a booth at a local family diner. It was cheap and close by, but deserving enough for Detective Baji’s victory on his latest case.

“Still! That cheesy alibi was so over the top. Seriously, which one of you even came up with that crap?” Baji mulled over his drink, glaring at how closely sat you and Mitarai were sitting. You rolled your eyes. “Yeah yeah, just let it go already.”

“Mitarashi! Your acting was so good back there though, I almost thought you were really crying!” Chifuyu praised the four eyes beside him. “Thank you! I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off at first.”

Still dressed in the costumes stolenborrowed from the Drama Club, you all looked quite dashing and out of place in this family diner. But not a one of you seemed to care. Everyone was in high spirits.

Baji would occasionally bring up how ‘killing someone for a girl you like is so lame.’ And sure, he was right. It just made you all the more embarrassed that you were the one to come up with the dramatic idea. But that was the idea! Detective shows were dramas!

As everyone threw in their last praises and thoughts on the case, the natural urge to pee made itself known to you. Quickly excusing yourself, you shimmied yourself out from the booth. It hadn’t even been a few minutes before you were relieved and headed back for the table.

On your way to do so, some high school delinquent who clearly wasn’t paying attention to how much of the narrow walkway he was taking up, ended up smacking right dab into your shoulder. It wasn’t enough to make you fall backwards, but enough to lose your balance. What an asshole!

Yet, when you glared up for your rightfully owed apology, the high schooler kept walking. Baffled, you pursed your lips into a thin line. It probably wouldn’t do you any good to go after him. But that was way too rude!

Unbeknownst to you, the whole scene became a spectacle for your delinquent friend group. And they were Not having it. Most of all, Baji Keisuke. He practically hopped over the table to get out from the booth quicker— rather than waiting for whoever was on the outside to make way.

“Oi, asshole.” Baji seethed through his teeth. It was quiet, enough to not draw attention from everyone in the restaurant, at least. “Apologize, or we’re takin’ this outside.” He’d since grabbed the collar of the offending jerk.

The high schooler chuckled, not taking Baji all that seriously. “Yeah right, get lost pipsqueak.” He went to push Baji, who was a solid few inches shorter than him. Unfortunately, Baji took this personally.

Baji laughed at the audacity of this jerk, grabbing his arm hard, and twisting it behind his back. He wasn’t trying to cause a scene, but there he was, causing a scene.

You aught to stop him, but nothing you’d say would do you any good. “Stay here, this won’t take more than five minutes.” Baji had told you.

It didn’t take long for Baji to walk the punk outside of the family diner, around the front and into a less populated street.

Ryusei gave a shrug, and offered you a seat. “Leave him be, that’s just how he is.”

Chifuyu was tempted to follow his squad leader, but decided against it after seeing how anxious the whole situation was making you. “Maybe we should leave…” you mumbled. “No way, we just ordered while you were gone!” Ryusei patted your shoulder. Mitarashi was also a little unsettled, but tried not to show it.

“If anything, you should be glad Keisuke’s actually showing this much restraint. Normally. He’d have pummeled the poor guy in front of everyone and got us kicked out.” Ryusei sighed, as though that same scenario had just happened recently.

Just as Baji promised, he was back at the table in less than 5 minutes. “‘I miss anything?” He asked, a proud wide toothy smirk painting his features.

That proud look really suited him. Stop, why were you thinking about how cute he was at a time like this? Did you seriously find delinquency that attractive? Your heart felt like it’d beat out of your chest.

“Still think it’s one-sided?~” Ryusei whispered in your ear with a shit eating grin.

Your face went beat red.

“Hey, what’d I say about personal space asshole?” Baji cursed at his friend before pushing him hard.

“Sorry sorry~”

…♡

#FragileDearest #this took way too long #but here it finally is #I hope it’s enjoyable… #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #baji keisuke #baji #baji x reader #Keisuke baji #a letter from baji #letter from baji keisuke

[autumnwhistles]

Introducing Last Life: The Unofficial Musical! I've been working on this for a while and have finally finished recording the first song, out of something that looks to be 45 at the moment but I'll probably trim that down.

The musical follows @inthelittlewood's version of events (Watchers are canon, etc) because his lore is awesome, but you don't have to understand that to listen to it, since it wasn't even revealed in Martyn's perspective until the last episode. That'll be the same here, with the Watchers just playing the role of the chorus/narrators (who mainly sing this song), and some being the voices that speak to Martyn in his POV.

Because I'm following his lore, c!Martyn is the main character, and there's also a lot of focus on c!Scott because he was the winner of the season (and in my mind there are a lot of contrasts and parallels between the two, with Scott defying the rules of the game while Martyn is following the instructions of those who made the game, and occasionally trying to question it/break out of that cycle but being manipulated back into it – see the start of his episode 8). However, I am trying to give justice to other characters and POVs as well, since Last Life was due to the creation of everyone and I don't want to dismiss anyone's contributions as unimportant. Throughout the musical, the Watchers/chorus informs us about wider events at various intervals (through song), and I'm trying to give a lot of other people solos/duets too – for example, I'm writing a Tango solo song ("You Bet Your Life") at the moment; I'm planning to do a "Die For Me" for Cleo; Joel and Scar have a duet about various perceptions of them after Joel has turned red (they're not interacting with each other but are singing at the same time); etc. It'll definitely take a while to finish, but I do plan to see it through. There are also going to be musical and lyrical analyses on here explaining my thought process behind a lot of aspects of each song.

Full lyrics here!

#trafficblr #eyesandears #since this explicitly follows martyn lore #last life smp #martyn inthelittlewood #3rd life smp #(since that's referenced in a lot of the lyrics especially nearer the start) #mcyt #mcytblr #life series #watchers life series #maybe i'll also tag #watcher grian #since due to the nature of the lore that is canon ('the witness outstepping his role') #traffic series #life series smp #traffic smp #third life smp

[cerealboxlore]

imagine, and i don’t know how or why, cap having to reveal his identity to the league, but he just says his name

whatever members immediately look up billy batson, sees he’s a kid, and assumes that marvel being there is time shenanigans and that he was keeping his identity secret to not mess up the timeline

would be funny if somewhere after this another superhero asks him if he looked up to himself as a kid and he just responds with “nah, i hated captain marvel. i mean, who the hell would willingly be so cringy” or something idk i’m tired

that just seems like it could be a lot of fun to me

THIS TOOK FOREVER FOR ME TO RESPOND TO BECAUSE MY BRAIN WASNT BRAINING AND COULDN'T READ IT RIGHT BUT I GET IT NOW AND I LOVE IT

I think this is an amazing idea!! Using time travel as an excuse to lie to the Justice League and others about his existence is just pure, high-level wizard genius. Of course, some other time traveler, like Booster Gold, might make this a difficult lie to keep up, unless...he was in on the lie from the start 👀 It would make for a cute friendship between the two heroes and make for a good bonding story about the most unexpected people who became heroes.

A scenario where I can imagine your plan happening would most likely be a funny one, and while there can absolutely be a serious event that causes this idea of yours, I am laughing out of control thinking about Captain Marvel accidentally touching the lasso of truth and saying his name when someone asks him on the Watch Tower. And then he goes silent. Cap sees the rope next to him. And then everyone goes silent. They see the rope next to him. And then he leaves without saying anything, and the entire break room bursts into PURE chaos.

I think it's an awesome idea to have people think Billy hated Captain Marvel growing up, because that's just a factor of hilarity right there. In the Captain Marvel Adventures comic run, there was an issue where Billy pretended to have a feud with Captain Marvel (himself) so that people would leave him alone (if I remember right??). It's always funny to me to see someone pretend to hate their alter ego, it brings up so many opportunities for shenanigans!

Bonus:

Superman: Hey, Captain! Sorry to bother you, but I was curious, if it's not too much to ask, may I inquire as to why you're in the past instead of, you know, back in the future?

Captain Marvel: Ah, well, that's a pretty long story there, Supes. I can't go into it too much for privacy reasons, you know how it is.

Superman: Oh, no, I get it, don't worry, I won't press into it.

Captain Marvel: Hm...I can tell you this though, if I ever come into contact with my past self, due to my magic cells and the fabric of the universe, I will self-destruct.

Superman: ....what.

Captain Marvel: Yeahhh, it's a whole thing, it's why I never bother to meet my past self, and if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you left my past self alone. Haha, wouldn't want to risk cross contamination accidentally and explode.

He then walks away whistling without a care about what he just said, leaving Superman and the rest in a confused and concerned state.

On the news next week a JL member sees Booster Gold shake hands with Billy on the Fawcett City news (Captain Marvel's city) and holds back the urge to body slam him back to the future.

Gosh, this was wonderful to answer!

#this was such a lovely ask #tysm for the ask! #Billy Batson #dc captain marvel #shazam #justice league #dc comics #Bonus points if Booster Gold and Billy have an epic magical time travel adventure but no one saw it happen #more bonus points if Aqua Man hoses down Booster Gold with a tidal wave of water out of nowhere to not risk cap exploding #cap won't explode he just couldn’t think of a good lie in time #sorry for any spelling errors!

[may0tuna]

I hate you more! Part 3

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!reader

Word count: 737

Warnings: angst

Summary: Reader sabotages Rodrick’s chances with Heather. A classic enemies to lovers!

Author's note: I'm trying to be more consistent in writing, and I'm trying to "plan out" the chapters more? As you may have noticed (or not), I have also updated my masterlist for better reading experience I guess haha I have also started to be more detailed as I can when posting fanfics including warnings and proper tagging lol I'm still new to all of this but yeah :) This chapter's a bit short but I just wanted to get this out so I can start "planning" the next few chapters? lol yeah

Tags: @tomhockstetter7-111 @vihtoriacorrea @sleepyb1txh

Part 1, Part 2

"How do you read this again?" You asked Rodrick while pointing at the word "Sweaty" that's spelled out on a dog bowl.

"Uhh duh, it's sweetie!" Rodrick said confidently.

This is the second day of your tutoring session with Rodrick, and a day before your big test. You had arrived at the Heffleys a bit early so you decided to hang out with Greg and Rowley in the living room when Greg told you about how Rodrick pronounces "Sweetie." You decided to put it to the test when Rodrick came in through the front doors, and you held up the dog bowl and asked him what it says.

You, Greg, and Rowley failed miserably at trying to hide your laughter. It was too much that even Rodrick got embarassed. What's worse is that he doesn't know why you guys were laughing. He taunted Greg, and you decided to step in.

"Alright, come on, Rodrick, time to study," as you pull him by the waistband on his shirt.

"Don't tell me what to do," Rodrick snapped at you as he eyed you pulling him by his shirt.

"Oh? I think in this case, I can," you snapped back at him.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, because if you don't," you paused for a while and smirked at him. "Oh Mrs. Heffleyyyy," you said in an almost sing-song voice.

"Fine fine, you're a snitch!" Rodrick sighed in defeat as he headed upstairs into his room.

"She's awesome!" Greg told Rowley but you didn't hear it because you were already walking up the stairs with Rodrick.

When you arrived at Rodrick's room, it was still as messy as the first time you had set foot in there.

"Geez, would it kill you to clean up in here?"

"Why clean my own room when my mom will do it for me when she gets tired of calling me out on not cleaning my room?" Rodrick said as if he had figured out all the answers to the world. You just rolled your eyes.

"Let's just get this over with."

"What's the rush?" He asked.

"None of your business," you replied. The truth is that you're planning to sneak out later because you heard that there was this party where college students go to at the far-end of town. You always thought that you were too mature for your age so you casually enjoy hanging out with older people. Truth is, you always thought people can see right through your "too cool to be here" attitude and you're worried that people would hate you for it. Maybe Rodrick was right when he said you were only pretending in order to fit in. Did he just figure out your whole double life, the one you tried oh so hard to hide?

The good news is that no one can really tell how old you were when at events like college parties, and you still have your own set of fake IDs from when you were dating your ex. Rodrick didn't ask anymore questions but you can tell that he was curious about it.

"Anyway, let me be frank, you suck at spelling and your grammar is shitty. If I am getting this $100 a week, you need to really mean it."

"Why should I? You're the one getting paid, and if I recall correctly, you lied to me!"

"About what?"

"About Heather!"

"Please, you never had a chance with her!"

Rodrick became silent. His expression pained. You apologized and decided to reach your hand out to him, with the intention of giving him a light tap on the shoulder, but he dismissed it.

"Yeah okay," Rodrick's voice was low and soft. "Whatever," he said after some pause.

He was sitting on the bed and you were facing him, books and notes sprawled out in front of you two. Recently, you've noticed that there's this gnawing feeling whenever you see this side of him, like you want to take care of him. Then again, there is that other side that makes you want to punch him in the face.

"Rodrick," you said softly.

"What?" You detected a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"What if I split the $100? You get $40, I get $60, as long as you take this seriously. And if you take this seriously, we can end today's session a bit early," that last one was for your own benefit.

"Deal."

masterlist

#diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick rules #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick heffley fluff #rodrick heffley x you #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick heffley x fem!reader #devon bostick #i hate you more

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Not What I Planned." Rusty Nail X AFAB! Reader.

Well hello! It is the amazing and fantastic @eggsandbeer birthday so, so soon! But I am meeting Matt and Skeet tomorrow and my brain is gonna be all on Billy and Stu post that, so you get this now! This is my first time writing Rusty, I watched Joy Ride 2 six times while writing this. I love Riri, she is so fucking awesome and I adored doing this. She has a more personalized version but gave the go ahead to post a reader insert version for you all! So let's go!

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.7K (I Know.) Rusty Nail X AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Customer Service Work. Asshole Customers. Murder Mentioned. Drinking. Making Out. Man Handling. Fingering. Masturbation. Blow Job. Cum Eating. Vaginal Sex. Riding. Taunting. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Praise. Pet Names.

---

You hate your job, it is exhausting, mentally and physically, a total drain, but you do all you can to not let it get you down. You focus on the little things, good customer interactions, great coworkers and the times you are truly able to get away from your work. It isn’t like it’s what you wanted to do for the rest of your life anyway, far from it, in fact one of those vital lifelines that helps keep you sane is a local news internship, it gives you some good experience for what you hope to actually eventually do with your life along with giving you purpose. 

Today is not good, though, off to a less than ideal start. This is decidedly not the way you wanted to spend your birthday. Rolling into the grocery store to do a closing shift, apron in your grip and bag over your shoulder, half-hearted waves to co-workers as you strolled through towards the area you could safely stow away your stuff until you are allowed to clock out. You do just that, drop your stuff in the usual place, get your uniform situated and punch in, ready for another day of God knows what bullshit. 

Your mind was at least slightly occupied, where you work is en route to the Burning Man festival which meant that you were busy as fuck with people loading up on supplies before they arrive to their final destination, it kept you busy. As for what kept your brain whirring, your internship had tasked you with writing a piece on the crowd that is rolling through on their way, meaning you are watching and listening intently. It looks like you aren’t from the outside, hands stacking a fruit display, but ears open, all sorts of talk about events the Burners were amped up for, how much further they had to travel, what snacks were the best and would keep in the desert heat. 

You did some actual work naturally, finding yourself crouched and cleaning out a stubborn drain, the process thoroughly annoying and honestly degrading, and not in the fun way you usually liked. It was your fucking birthday, for Christ’s sake, you should be indulging in the fun kind of calve burning, not the bent over and unclogging kind. Still, you try to stay in higher spirits and certainly not show it outwardly, if someone squinted hard enough, they might be able to pick up on it. 

Later on, you had just finished making a new display, standing back and looking at the gorgeous display of apples you’d spent longer than you cared to mention on, hands on your hips. The first genuine smile that had graced your face since clocking in and wasn’t tinged with a single hint of perfectly practised customer service fakeness. This is one of those moments you felt genuine pride in your work, a glimmer of nicety in all the bullshit. 

It lasted for two whole seconds.

A customer’s cart hits you in the hip and wrist simultaneously because of how you were standing, the action both painful and shocking, completely unexpected. It makes you step to the side, grip your wrist with your other hand, the pain is throbbing and dull, it isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever experienced, but it still sucks and should have never happened in the first place. The customer doesn’t apologize. Worse still, they stride forward, pick a single apple from the middle of the display, causing half of it to tumble over. The customer scoffs with a roll of their eyes, they drop the apple into their cart to look around, seeming to notice you just now for the first time, only then acknowledging you. They give a pointed look from you to over their shoulder, a motion of their head as they criticized your work, “Not very sturdy.” 

Your mouth falls open, and they tut as they walk away, leaving you dumbfounded with fifteen some odd apples scattered on the ground that you had to clean up and a display you had to rebuild. 

Later still, you are sweeping, trying to get these damn onion skins up, but they aren’t moving. You are half focused, conversing with one of the Burners, they are asking for your opinion on what kombucha is best, and you are humouring them and getting a few questions answered along the way. 

Throughout all the regular work crap, you’d been having small conversations with people, writing brief notes for your project, and it was nice getting some serious stuff down about it, served as a half decent distraction too. 

His initial thought is that it was reminiscent of a zoo, upon greater thought while attempting to park the Peterbilt he decided swiftly that it was worse than that, a fucking circus. He manages to park and decides that getting in and out as fast as possible would be vital to maintaining his sanity. He was aware that Burning man was happening, naturally, but still the place was crowded as all Hell, more than he had been anticipating. Rusty didn’t like large crowds of people, but he needs some supplies, he needs to eat. 

It isn’t any better inside. 

He is making his way around, hat pulled low, basket in his grip, grabbing a few drinks, some favoured snacks that he knew kept well, he was passing by the produce, almost ready to get the fuck out. He goes into your department, he is grabbing bananas and thinking about getting some of those pre-cut carrot and celery sticks. Rusty is trying to be a tad more health minded, not like it would do much with how much he enjoys a good smoke but better to do something than nothing he supposed. 

His train of thought is broken when he hears a loud exclamation of, “I can’t believe how fucking stupid you are!”

Rusty’s head turns, he catches sight of you, standing there, trying to look apologetic as some older lady is verbally ripping into you, “I’m making lemon chicken LEEK stroganoff, right?”

She is looking at you expectantly, your eyes wide, and with that half customer service forced smile you nod and say through gritted teeth, “Right.” 

“So tell me, how. Am I. Supposed. To make. Lemon, chicken LEEK stroganoff without LEEKS?” The way she said it was infuriating, the halting, pausing way of it, so condensing, as if you were the cross between an idiot and a child all rolled into one. 

“I don’t know, ma’am. I guess you can’t. I’m very sorry.” You admit it reluctantly, knowing she won’t like your response, and she does not. She goes off on you, “Well I’ve had this menu planned for WEEKS, I have company coming tonight! You have to make this right!” 

Rusty was listening in, brow pinching, this woman was off her rocker, what a complete bitch. You were trying to calm her, smooth over the situation, and she was being worse and worse to you. No matter what you say, she wouldn’t stop freaking out. 

“I really am very sorry. I could call another store nearby and ask if they have any leeks?” You offer up, and she scoffed with a laugh, “So I can make ANOTHER stop? Do you not remember? I am hosting a dinner party tonight, I’m busy! I have other places to go, I can’t be here fighting with you over this all night!”

And yet she was still here, doing just that. 

He had turned, wasn’t watching quite as subtly as he was previous. You were doing your best and none of it was measuring up to this crazy, impossible standard that was being set out. He was looking at you, and he could see that you were taking it hard, your customer service face and voice were holding strong, but your eyes? They looked so sad. 

You reminded him of a kicked puppy, as the woman finally had enough of being a raging cunt and stormed off. Right after that, someone else in uniform walked by, a manager? And on their way, they said, “Happy birthday.”

You gave a small, “Thanks.” along with half a wave as they strode past. You were not only working on, but getting treated like that, on your birthday? 

It got to him, hit him square in the chest, shot to the heart. A sigh and he looks over, he makes a note of the asshole who mistreated you so, he has a little time before they check out before he can go dispose of them in the parking lot for being so unreasonable and rude to you. It might be too far for some people but not for him, people like that, there is no changing them, not at her age, some people don’t deserve to live. 

First things, first though, he saunters over to you, a small clearing of his throat before he asks, “Got a date tonight, there a drink you’d recommend?” 

You turn towards the low and smooth voice, you have to turn your head up to look at him properly, he was taller than you. The way he was standing, the angle, and how he wore his hat you couldn’t see his face, brim pulled too low, standing a few feet away.

A small inhale and your smile turned more genuine before you reply, “Oh, our Pink Champagne is my favourite. I get that on special occasions.” 

Well, how fucking perfect a find were you? Kind, respectful, hardworking, and you have good taste. 

“Thank you.” He said it easily with a wave of his hand in acknowledgement and broke away. You watch him go and think to yourself that he is cute, in that particular way that strikes you when an older guy catches your eye just so. The interaction doesn’t stick with you however, you turned and saw more fucking onion skins that needed sweeping up.

Hours later, you finally get off of work, messed up apron in one hand and looking forward to getting the hell home. You had two days off ahead, you were intent on a bath and partaking in some drinks in your fridge with a good record on when you get home. You are walking through the dark and now very empty parking lot, your mind only focused on reaching your car, sliding behind the wheel and getting home as soon as possible, when you hear a voice calling out. Your car keys are in one hand, the keys between your fingers, sticking out and ready to punch a would be attacking if you need to. 

Hearing the voice makes you put your head on a swivel, initially scared, you look and then see it is that older gentlemen you helped out earlier. You pause, and he comes a little closer, again in the dark and with that hat you can’t make out much except for the orange glow of the end of his cigarette, partially illuminating the lower half of his face. He calls out your name, following it with a question of, "-right?” 

“Hi, yeah it is.” You were still sightly on edge until he is holding up the very same bottle you suggested earlier, “Wanted to say thank you for your recommendation, properly.” 

Your brows raise up, you saw him in the store hours ago, meaning he should in theory be long gone, and you ask, “I thought you had a date?” 

“I do. I was just waitin’ for her to get off work.” Even though you couldn’t see it fully, you could hear the smile in his tone, and it makes one spread to your own face. “Oh, my apologies, I didn’t realize that was you asking me out.” 

The tone you said it in was very light, and he seemed equally amused, “Sorry bout that, terrible manners on my part, truly.”

There is a beat of silence, and you say, “I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.” 

“So you’d be willing to join me?” He asks, you nod, you felt endeared to him very quickly, the confidence he displayed, the boldness, you were charmed and figured why not? You had the time tonight, nothing wrong with enjoying a birthday drink bought by a courteous man. 

“Where are we going to go?” You ask, and he gestured over to the large shiny black Piterbilt towards the back of the lot. “Was thinking my truck, if that’s alright with you?”

When he asks in that delicious tone of voice, you think that yes, it is very alright with you. “Lead the way.” You prompt, and he does, you fall into step beside him, apron is thrown over your shoulder, and you asked, “So you’re a truck driver?”

“How’d you ever guess?” He asked on an exhalation of his cigarette with a glance over to you. Now you can catch the half smirk on his face, unable to make out his eyes completely, but it didn’t bother you, honestly you kind of dug the mysterious kind of thing, not even fully knowing what he looked like. If anything that communicated how into him, you were, hadn’t even seen his whole face but his voice and how he carried himself was more than enough to convince you to this odd kind of unexpected date. 

“I’m real intuitive. Call it a gift.” You mused, and he liked you, even in how you joked, there was no real meanness to it, could tell that it was all in fun and that inherent niceness shone through. “Giving me gifts when it’s your birthday? Isn’t that what M’ supposed to be doing?” 

That gives you some slight pause, how in the fuck did he know that it was your birthday? Before any serious question could be made, you were next to his truck on the passenger side. You look it over and say honestly, “Nice truck.”

“Thanks, do my best to take real good care of it, s’ seen some rough times.” You look a little closer, scrutinizing, if it had, you couldn’t tell, the thing looked clean and not a scratch on it. You turn and lean against it, you realize he had gotten some cups that were also sold at your work, he holds them out, “Mind holding these while I open this?”

You nod and take them out of his outstretched hand and watch as the last remainder of his cigarette was dropped and ground under the heel of his boot. He uncorks the bottle with ease, doesn’t spill any or cause it to overflow, which mildly impresses, you hold out the cups and he fills them. The bottle is set aside on the ground and after passing him his cup he asked “Any words to share?”

“Here’s to the weekend?” You offered up after a moment’s thought, and he said, “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks yours and his cups together, and you take a sip of the sweet and familiar fizzy alcoholic drink. 

“Seriously the shift I had today was rough, so this is really nice, thank you-” Then you realize you don’t know his name, he clearly picks up on this and says, “Name’s Rusty. Rusty Nail.” 

Immediately you figure it must be his CB handle, you wonder if Rusty is his real name, but also you don’t think it matters much, you don’t press, “Well thank you, Rusty, really.” 

“S’ my pleasure. Heard how that woman was going off on you earlier, some people can be so rude.” Is that what prompted this? The total bitch who was freaking over leeks? If so, you think that maybe her being such a raging cunt wasn’t such a bad thing if it led to this. 

Little did you know that Rusty had taken care of her, she was currently stuffed in the trunk of her own car, way, way on the other side of the lot, body long since gone cold. 

The conversation then turned to you both complaining about a shared distaste for rude and unreasonable people, he let you vent about your day and previous horrible customers at your job. As the conversation went on, you find yourself enjoying his company more and more. You also find yourself standing closer to him, half the bottle gone, he’s had another smoke, and you are leaning on him much more than the truck, he doesn’t mind, you sigh to him, “I cannot believe the crap you have to put up with, it’s so unfair!” 

“Some people have some really unsavoury and outdated views on people in my line of work.” He admits with a nod, and from what he’d shared it seemed like. There are people who say the meanest shit, make horrible assumptions, treat him like dirt or worse, a feeling you know all too well at your own job. You relate to Rusty. 

You’d been talking for an hour, and it was even later, darker, and a shiver unexpectedly ran up your spine, “You cold?”

You were a little, you were in a t-shirt and after standing in one spot for so long this late the chill had somehow set in. “Yeah, surprisingly I am a bit.” 

Then he made an interesting offer. “You want to get in my truck, warm up?” 

You think you really did want that. “Yeah, that’d be great, actually.” 

He moved back then and so did you, he opened the door for you, and you looked up, Christ it was big, how were you supposed to get in while in your slightly buzzed state without looking like a total clown? You feel him against your back, he asks, “Need some help?”

You nod, unsure of what he means or how he is going to help but trusting him all the same, it’s then that you feel his hands on you. He turns you, and then those same hands find your waist with ease and grip. He lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you realize to him, you probably do, as he helps hoist you into the passenger side of the truck. Rusty sits you on your ass in the seat and your face feels much hotter, he just scooped you up and set you down so fast, one simple and fluid motion as he stepped one foot up on the running board, and then there you were. You are side-saddle, legs dangling down and far off of the ground. His hands leave you quicker than you’d like, sliding off your waist and stepping back down. You are a bit dazed, his hand touches your ankle, and you jump, he laughs at your surprised, “What?”

“You wanna get your legs in, so I can close the door?” You nod and do so, swinging your legs in, and he shuts the door. Your hand, that had been clutching your bag and apron, dropped them on the floor by your feet. You look down into your cup, you hadn’t spilled any even when he picked you up, the cup is raised, you tip it back and swallow down the remainder. A sigh and you pull the cup back, hand still clutching it, comes to rest on your thigh as your thumb on your opposite hand swipes a stray drop from the corner of your mouth. He had come around to the other side, he has the door open and is sliding in beside you into the driver's seat, he’d picked up the bottle on the way, and you were contemplating asking for more.

As if reading your mind he gestures for your cup, you lean over, holding it out, and he pours you some more, you asked him, “So before, you were talking about all the bad stuff about truck driving, but what about the stuff you do like?”

The question seems to surprise him if his tone is any indication, “The stuff I do like?” 

He has pulled the bottle back, he isn’t pouring more for himself, you respond to his question with another of your own, “Yeah, what makes the job worth it? Other than the money.” 

Rusty considers the question for a moment before he says, “I like seein’ the country, like being by myself most of the time but most of all? Probably seems obvious, but the freedom of it.” 

You nodded, it made sense and asked, “Can go anywhere, do anything?” 

“S’actly.”  

The silence is as surprisingly comfortable as the passenger seat of this truck is. The thought hits, and you say it without thinking, “I dunno how you do it.” 

“What? Truck drivin’?” He asks, and you say with a turn to him, “Yeah! Like, the actual driving it.”

He laughs, and you press on, one hand holding your cup and the other making like you are gripping a steering wheel that was comically large, pretending to turn it, “Seriously! This thing is massive, it’s a beast! How can you control it?”

“Ain’t that hard really, just gotta be the right mix of careful and confident.” He assures, and you laugh, “You make it sound so easy, I’ve never driven anything this big, that-” You point out the window to your much less impressive ride, “-is my car over there.” 

“Yeah, don’t quite measure up, does it?” He teases and you grin, “Nope. But I don’t think I could drive anything like this.”

“I think you could.” A small pause before he asks the big question, “Wanna try?” 

You nearly choke on your sip and pull the cup back, wiping at your mouth, “What? Me? Drive the behemoth? You want to write it off that bad, Rusty?” 

“You cannot be that bad a driver.” He scoffs. 

“Rusty, you barely know me, I dunno-” He insists, “C’mon, I’ll help.”

“Help?”

You were curious enough to allow it to happen, you’d not counted on his idea of help being putting you in his lap. He’d moved the seat back enough and encouraged you to climb on, emboldened by both the drink and his encouragement, you slide on into the space he made. He moves the seat forward enough to do the pedals, and he places your hands on the wheel, his hands covering yours. “You sure this is a good idea?” 

Nerves were setting in, you’d been drinking, not a lot but also all the close contact with him was getting to you, his attractiveness was apparent during your brief meeting earlier but now that you'd’ been getting to know him? He was becoming even more appealing, being sat in his lap, your back to his chest, his hands on yours, you felt flustered. Sounded by him in both touch and scent, it could be enough to make your head swim if you let it. In your current position, his voice is over your shoulder, “Positive. You’ll be fine.” 

The tone of voice he says it in, the conviction, he makes you believe it. 

One of his hands leaves yours briefly to start her up, the truck rumbles to life, and it makes you jump slightly, Christ it was loud and is vibrating like all Hell. “We’ll just do a lil’ loop, alright? M’ doing the pedals, you just steer her real easy.” 

He had to speak louder to be heard over the hum of the truck, and you pitch your own volume up to be heard, “Yeah, real easy, can do.” 

His foot comes down slowly, and he eases it forward, you grip the wheel tightly and let him lead. He talks you through the process, and it helps, you focus your eyes forward and your ears on listening to his smooth voice praising you, “Uh-huh, around the pole, use it as a guide.” You swallowed and nodded, brows knit together as he keeps talking, “Oh good job, see? You’re doing it.” 

His hands squeeze yours reassuringly, your mouth feels dry, you nod and say quieter than you should, “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, you’re doing most of the work.” You feel that isn’t truthful but again, he talks, you believe. 

“Almost all the way around, a little further-” Both his hands leave yours, sliding down your arms and choosing to come to rest on your waist again, letting you fully be in control. It makes you tense, rushing out, “Rusty, wait-”

Another flex of his hands, another show of comfort, he says easily, drawling out, “Calm down, you’re doing it all yourself.” 

You aren’t fully convinced until you’ve made the full loop, and he lets off the gas, he turns off the car and your shoulders slump, what he says next, makes you melt, “I told you. You’re perfect.” 

That does something, makes a particular part of you break, or is it wake up? Either way, a certain section of you, somewhere aside, comes alive, and instead of wanting to run from it, you chose to grab onto the live wire of sensation with both hands. The truck has stopped, but you keep moving, the urge overcomes, and you turn in your seat and in his lap, one hand comes up, meets his cheek, feeling the rough stubble. He’d already gotten you the champagne, but you think you want more still, and you ask, “Can I be selfish?”

“S’ your birthday, be as selfish as you want to.” You take that is more than enough of an invitation. You lean up and in, push the brim of his hat up enough to give yourself the appropriate access, and you kiss him. 

He had a feeling it was going this way, but thinking and experiencing are two different things. You choosing to take the lead was better than he could have been hoping for, though. Your mouth was so fucking soft, you felt warm, he tried to take it easy, but this is the kind of thing he can’t help getting swept up in. Chances like this don’t come around often, the urge to rush is present, he manages to ignore it, preferring to savour it, or rather, savour you. He lets himself relax further into the seat, returning your affection immediately. 

The scratch of his facial hair against your skin feels better than you’d hoped it would, you let out a soft exhale, a sound on the precipice of a moan while still falling just short. His hands are still on your waist, he nudges you closer, you lean in more, your head tilts, his lips part, and he tastes more like cigarettes than he does the champagne, but it’s there. Your tongue makes the first exploration and sticky sweet fruit is unearthed from below smoke and ash. 

One of his hands slides down, a brief pass over your thigh, and you wonder where it’s going, you realize in short order when the seat you are both on moves back, giving you more space, making it, so you aren’t quite as locked up against the steering wheel. Heat is sparking inside, your hand moves from his face, slipping to rest on his neck, your other hand comes up to his shoulder, fingers grip the jacket he has on and the want becomes too much. You grind down on him. 

The shifting and adjusting allows you to feel how hard he was growing, a harsher inhale, and you begin to scramble, you want more contact, you move to be fully straddling him, no more twisting partially around like you currently were. You are seated just right soon enough, ass firmly planted, and you think fleetingly God he had some solid thighs, strong, you felt very well-supported. 

The making out was only paused briefly while you changed position, you’d gotten right back into it, your mouth slotting back against his with a hum that sounded like his name. You grind again and this time he returns it, rutting up into you, and the friction makes you actually moan this time. The taste, the feeling, and two minutes more of making out is all it takes for you to break, pulling back once his touch had gotten bolder, one having slid up your body, palming one of your tits through your work shirt easily with how large his hands were. You arch into him, breaking the kiss you beg, “Fuck, Rusty, more.”

You are close enough now that you can see his smile as opposed to just hear it, his hand moves and starts to go under your shirt, rough fingers on bare skin and steadily moving up, brushing the edge of your bra. Not quite a laugh but more than an amused releasing of air, he asks, “More?” 

A frantic nod, another squirm of your hips and he asks, “How much more? C’mon, tell me.”

He wants you to say it and you want it desperately enough that it’s no issue, far from it, if anything him making you say it, makes you want it more, makes you feel hotter. “Fuck me?”

“I like your directness.” Thank God for that. “Just have a lil more patience with me, alright?” 

When he asks in that tone, you think you’d do just about anything. A small nod and he needs to get his fill of you just a hair more. Hands explore, groping, feeling, it teases both of you, trying to get a sense of your body before the clothes come off, mind running over just how you’ll feel with nothing in the way. You remain good, you let him feel, minimal squirming on your part, even when he starts kissing your neck as the hand that isn’t up your shirt kneads your ass. Only when you feel your underwear literally plastered to you and your cunt ache incessantly do you whine his name again. 

He mercifully acquiesces, “Okay, okay, I hear you.” 

He eases up, a gesture of his head for you to move to the passenger's seat, “Gonna need you out of those clothes for what you really want.” 

You rush to comply. Once in the passenger's seat, sitting sideways, still facing him, looking at him, your hands catch the bottom hem of your shirt and as if anticipating that you intended to frantically tear it off, he stops you. One hand out and that sweet but firm tone, commanding, "Do it slowly." 

Your face feels hot, and you do as instructed, slowing your movements right down, pulling the shirt up, exposing your stomach and then your bra. Higher and higher until you have taken it off, tossing it in the direction of your bag and apron. Next you have your thumbs hooked in the waist of your pants, arching your hips you start to slide them down, you watch him, try to gauge his reaction, but it’s hard in the low lighting. He gives a nod to show he’s pleased so far, encouraging you verbally too, “Go on.” 

Shoes removed, pants follow, soon you are in just your underwear, and he speaks, a small gesture of your body, up and down, “S’ a good start but keep going.” 

You reach behind yourself, start to unhook your bra, and he is still talking, “Dying to see the rest.” 

You swear you can feel his eyes raking over every exposed inch of your skin. A small thought strikes, you follow it, slipping your arms out of the straps but holding the cups to your chest, an indulgent smile, a rise of your eyebrows, and he clicks his tongue, you play dumb and ask, “What?”

“You’re being a tease.” He states, and you ask in a tone of mock innocence, “Am I?” 

He says more seriously. “Drop it.” 

Unsure if he means your bra or the act, you chose to abandon both. You let the padded fabric slip out of your hands, a spread of your legs, you wonder if he can tell how wet you are from here. He moves too now, you weren’t expecting it, he falls to his knees in the space between your seat and his. Hands come to your hips and the sudden contact makes you jerk with a sharp inhale. His mouth catches yours in another kiss, you return it and moan, his mouth doesn’t stay on yours for long, trails down, jaw and neck, one on your shoulder and lower.

He is confident, he’s taking what he wants and you more than let him, you enjoy every rough scrape of his well worked hands, pass of his lips and nip of his teeth. His warm breath fanning over your chest is welcome, one hand has moved again, over your hip and now on your inner thigh, his thumb is close enough, and he runs it up you, swipes up your clothed slit. You sigh, eyes falling closed, relishing the contact, you are sure now he can feel how wet you are. He runs it back down and then up again, a press just right, and you moan between the friction on your clit and his mouth now on your chest. 

He found it so easily and judging by the smile you can feel against the curve of your breast, he is just as pleased. Rusty abandons the current pleasant task, fingers hooking in your underwear, “I got a feelin’ it’d be a fight to get these off you too, an’ I just can’t wait.” 

You couldn’t either, not anymore. 

Assisting with a move of your ass up, he gets them off, and now you are naked in his semi-truck. You want to jump him, but he is holding you down by your thighs, taking in the view of you unobstructed, totally bare. “Fucking gorgeous.”

A hand reaches out, catches his jacket, and you tug as you tell him, “I feel really exposed right now, you wanna lose some of these?”

“S’ only fair.” He agrees, he removes his jacket and asks, “Wanna give me a little show while I fix myself?” 

It is a request, but you take it like it’s an order. Hand between your spread legs, fingers trace up, catching ample wetness and spreading it up, circling sensitive tissue, making your thighs tense and a small moan fall from your lips. “There you go.”

The praise helps, you increase the pressure, and he hums in approval. Shirt is gone, belt is opened more and more revealed until he is in a similar state of undress. The view of him stripping all for you is insanely helpful. Pleasure is filling you easily and once he is ready he asks, “You mind if I-?”

“However you want me, please.” It leaves you needy and breathless. He steps in, he moves your hands away from yourself, and starts to adjust you to his liking. You like it, you think he can be rougher honestly, you are put on your knees, facing the passenger window, a hand on your back, adjusting you more, hips tilted up, and you feel him against you. The bump of his shaft between your thighs and over your clit is already very good. “Ready, yeah?”

A shaky nod, “Please Rusty-”

The one word and his name is all you are able to get out before he is lining up just right, you hold your breath in anticipation, he spits into his own hand, strokes himself, the extra lube as courtesy is appreciated. He slides in, and you let out a gasp, he doesn’t do it easily, taking you in one firm stroke, hand on your hips as his come to rest against your ass. He revels in you, the tight, soaked heat of you, his head tips back slightly as he soaks it before he starts to move. Pulling out halfway before driving forward, your hands scrabble for the window’s edge, you hold onto it like a lifeline as you gear up for what is already promising to be the ride of a lifetime. 

His thrusting is firm, just like him, steady and sure, a good and even pace. It leaves breathless, not caring about being overheard, not like anyone could in the empty parking lot. A heavy breath from him, “Fucks sake, you’re soaked.” 

You were moaning, incoherent pleas, along with his name, you were more than warmed up, each drag of his thick shaft in and out increasing the feeling. Fingers dig into the meat of your hips, he pulls you back as he drives forward, and you move too, rocking backwards to meet him. “Tight as Hell, can barely fit myself in here.” 

“Keep talking, never, ever stop talking.” Is the one thought in your brain as you moan dumbly. You aren’t thinking much, unable, but you are feeling. Rusty was so kind to you, was totally turning your birthday around, making you feel incredible, spoiling you, and you want to do the same. His hands are roaming and that won’t do, you need to stop him before you are fucked into total submission and wrecked. Another minute, just another minute, you tell yourself, eyes are half open and brain hazy. The glass is so fogged up you can’t see out of it, could write your name but if he asked you doubted your hands would be steady enough. Could you even spell your name right now with what he was doing to you? 

Finally, you reach back, hands on his hips, “Ru-Rusty, please, stop-”

“Something the matter?” He asked, holding deep, all the way to the hilt inside you. His hands smooth up your sides, fingers trace the curves of your chest before coming back down again, and you shiver, clenching on his shaft. 

“Gotta, fuck, do something. Pull out?” He listens, he does so, “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”  

The pet names, fucking Christ the pet names, you are forcing yourself to move. It happens quickly. You turn, and then you push him, so his back is against the seat of the driver's side. He takes the hint, sits up on the seat sideways, and then you are the one on your knees. Between his spread thighs, you lean down, a hand locks around the base of his shaft and you lick. He lets out a surprised groan, soft and sounding too good. You start to blow him in earnest, careful of your gag reflex as you work. Your hand slips up and down his slick shaft as you suck on the head, his hand comes down to your head, fingers twist in your hair, “Like tasting yourself?” 

A nod as you moan against him, tongue swirls around the tip, and he watches enraptured, his hips buck slightly, and you gag almost immediately. He inhales through his teeth, “Sorry there.”

You brush him off, a gesture that it is fine, as you redouble your efforts. He seems to be enjoying it immensely, he is encouraging you further but soon asks, “Can you handle some more?”

For him, you want to try. You nod, and he guides you, does it slowly and easily, “Breathe through it-”

You do and the pace, his voice, it somehow works, and you’re able to take him deeper, “Pretty birthday girl. Takin’ it so well.” 

All you wanted to do was please him, you continue the work for only a minute more, however because then he tells you, “I want you back up here.”

You jump at the chance. Same as before, you climb up him and straddle him, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see where this is going. “You didn’t have to do that.” He comments, and you have your hands on his biceps, currently sucking a hickey into his neck and teasing your dripping hole with the tip of his dick, “I know. I wanted to.”  

“Could tell you were into it. You always wanna taste yourself like that?” 

“Not always but it is-” You move your hips down, start to slide him inside with a moan, once he is buried inside of you again you finish the thought, “-a favourite.” 

“Dirty girl.” He coos it like a compliment, and it hits you just like one, too. You start to ride, his hands on you help along with upward rocks of his hips. You bite and suck along his throat in between broken moans, the salt of his skin is a tad too addicting, as is the stretch of him inside and the way he brushes all the right spots inside of you at this angle. 

Apparently it still isn’t good enough for him. 

He tugs you closer, presses you so that way your clit is getting friction and ground with every thrust and bounce, your moans increase in volume in pitch along with the sensation. You had no clue this is how your day would shake out, if you did, maybe your shift would have been more bearable. 

His hands are on your back, holding you close, fucking up into you as you are slamming down, and on a particularly good hit you are gasping. For two people fucking for the first time and relative strangers, you’d found a frighteningly good rhythm. Your body is moving on instinct, just chasing what feels good but still, thoughtlessly tinged with doing your best to please him, thankful for the moment that what seems to be getting him off is feeling incredible for you. It isn’t quite enough, though, and he seems to pick up on that. 

“Lean back.” His voice snaps you out of your pleasure induced stupor, and you nod, separating yourself from him, the one point of contact still remaining your ass on his thighs and him stuffed deep inside. He directs you further, his hands help, and you find yourself with one hand on his knee, the other braced on the roof of the truck, feet on the seat on either side of him and with a confident nod you start moving again. 

It’s good, you are able to hit spots inside yourself that are even deeper, using all your leg muscles as well as your hands it becomes more of a full body effort, minute adjustments can be made so too much strain is never on one part of your sweat slick frame. Soon as you are just right in the groove of it, he surprises you, why he wanted the change in position becomes all too clear. His hand is between your bodies and his thumb presses down, swirling over your clit, and it makes your pace falter, “Oh my fucking God-”

“Don’t stop now.” The way he says it makes a shiver run up your spine and again makes you clench down on him. He says it in the dominant tone of voice, but it’s light, that smug fucking half grin on his face, unable to tear his eyes away from your body. You shake your head, choking out, “Wo-won’t stop.” 

“No, course you won’t, you’re so good at listening.” The praise washes over you with another sharp jolt of ecstasy. His hand that wasn’t working your nerves into a frenzy was on your thigh, sliding up, gripping your hip, “This workin’ for you?”

Fuck, was it ever. You nod frantically, focusing on breathing and not stopping riding him, but in short order, your movements were getting increasingly sloppy. It was like he didn’t have to ask, didn’t rush it, just let you work it out and helped carry you along. You were getting dangerously close, the edge creeping up at a blinding pace, everything you’d experienced so far this night was piling up and threatening to make you break apart at the seams. There were no real words, just hurried breathing and pitched moans, head back, nails digging into the fabric of the truck cab’s roof, the sound of skin on skin and his encouragement. 

A soft call of your name, his hips moving up, grinding into you as his hand works and him asking in a mind meltingly hot tone, “I wanna see it, give it to me.”

And something about that, whether it is what he said or how he said it, causes the reaction inside to finally make it happen, like it clicks into place just right, and you go from a weak and barely audible strained whisper of, “I’m almost there!” To holy fucking shit, I’m, “-cumming!” 

Riding as much became not an option, legs almost giving out, but he takes over, grip on your hip is bruising, hip strength impressive, and he drives up into you over and over. Your hand isn’t able to stay on the roof, caught midair, body tense as your climax rockets through your body, you think your hand on his knee might be drawing blood with your nails, but you can’t stop it nor can you care. 

You jerk as it peaks, and he slips out, his fingers don’t stop until you are crying out and pushing him away, still trembling through the aftershocks. Your eyes were closed, you were panting and not even remotely down from his high when you feel the hot splatter on your tits and stomach with your name staining his tongue. Peaking back open, you see him, hand around himself, and he’d cum all over your torso. The pretty pearly white is sliding down, and his own breathing is very laboured. Your hand trails down, still shaky, skating through the mess he left, and then you're bringing those same fingers back up to taste him. 

Your body relaxes against him, you get into a more comfortable position, and after you stop shuddering so much you are telling him, “That was pretty fucking great.”

“Oh, are you all done?” He asked as he looks up at you, hands are resting lazily on your thighs, tracing patterns absentmindedly. “I mean I thought we were but are we not?”

“We don’t gotta be. I’m in no rush.” The thought of that is extremely pleasant. 

“Another drink till you’re ready to go again, old man?” You asked with a smile, and he laughs as he reaches over to where the bottle was left on the floor of his side of the truck. Thankfully it hadn’t been knocked over, “You get that one and only cuz you were so good.” 

“Only one old man joke or one joke overall? Because I was gonna make one hoping that you aren’t passingly along tetanus to me Rusty, but if you’re planning to be a buzzkill-” He shuts you up with a hand on the back of your neck and a kiss that you end up humming into. Yeah, you think this has been a pretty solid birthday. 

#Rusty Nail x reader #slasher x reader #BHF writing #HAPPY BIRTHDAY RIRI #MWAH #LOVE YA #ENJOY

[that1emowitch]

At the end of the world / Or the last thing I see / You are never coming home, never coming home

Prompt from @tuna-f-b: Do you still do request? If yes and angst is o.k: what would happend i all the bats died? Like how would the hero community react. The supers alone. Clark having to deal with losing his best friend(?) and the kids he basically co parented- as well as seeing his sons lose their best friends(?) Specially as ships that would be awesome angst

A/N: I'm not crying you're crying (Also, for those who don't know, Izzy is Duke's canon gf and one of the Robins from We Are Robin)

Words: 2504

TW: Mentions of blood, Major character death, Coping with loss, Self-blame, Mentions of relapse (drugs)

“If you’re watching this, I am either deceased or indefinitely unable to continue my duties as Batman. But the world still needs Batman. Gotham still needs Batman. My son Damian Wayne, if he is an adult, shall inherit my mantle— if not, Dick Grayson will take over until he is. In the event that he, too, is unavailable for any reason, the mantle goes to Tim Drake, after him, to Cassandra Cain, then Duke Thomas, then Stephanie Brown, then Jason Todd, should he accept it.”

In the video recording, Batman pauses, taking a deep breath.

“In the unfortunate event that the entire family is… deceased… I have a list of contingency plans on both the Bat-Computer and the Justice League’s primary databases. Oracle will help you access it, but in her… absence… the password is “a6ghr83kc02m”.”

Then video-Bruce takes off the cowl, his pale blue eyes looking straight into the camera.

“I know I was never the best with feelings. But I would like my children, my allies, and friends to know that I’m proud of you. And to my fellow Justice Leaguers… Diana and Clark, I am truly grateful for your companionship. I would never have made it this far without you. Barry, Arthur, Dinah, J’onn, you’ve all been good friends. Oliver, Hal… you’re not so bad either.”

Bruce turns around, and looks over his shoulder, the shadows of the Batcave making the scene even more dramatic.

“I wish you good luck.”

Then the clip ends.

A shuddering breath leaves Clark.

It’s real.

He’s really… They’re all…

He can’t do this anymore. He turns around and walks out the door, leaving the other core Justice Leaguers staring sombrely at the now-blank screen.

He doesn’t know when he started flying, when he started trying to escape. The walls of the Watchtower seem to be suffocating him, but he has enough sense not to just leave the airlock yet.

Instead he finds a corner by a window, far, far away from the others, where he can see a majestic view of Earth, the moon, and the Sun in perfect sync with each other.

He falls to his knees.

His breathing’s uneven, a tear rolls down his cheeks.

Then he feels a hand on his shoulder— soft, trembling, yet steady.

“Kal,” Diana whispers, sitting on the floor next to him. She doesn’t continue— she isn’t sure what to say.

“They’re all going to die, you know? We’re going to bury all of them. Everyone on Earth, everyone we know.” Clark’s voice trembles, in a way Superman’s never does. “It scares me so much.”

“Kal,” Diana says again, pulling Clark into a hug. “It’s okay. We’ve lost… We’ve lost so many of our friends. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to grieve.”

“How are you— how are you so—” Clark can’t form his words properly. He turns to Diana, to see her face tight with grief, eyes misty with unshed tears.

Her voice breaks slightly as she speaks. “I don’t want to believe they’re gone. But… we have to carry on. We’re the Justice League. Our people need us, Kal.”

“So we just go on and on? Forever?” Another tear runs down his cheek. “Ollie, Hal, Dinah, Lois, Jon, they’re all going to… they’re all going to die one day and we just have to… to go on?”

“I’m sorry, but it is the truth,” Diana whispers, her eyes stinging with hot tears. “We must find peace in the fact, right now, that Batman— Bruce, the Robins, they— they were so brave. Brave till the end. And they fell as warriors, defending our world. I’m sure they’ll all reach Elysium.”

“And Dickie, Damian, Jason, Tim, Cass, Duke—” Clark’s voice is hoarse. “They were so young, just kids… I… I know Dick, Jay, Tim, Cass… they were adults, but… they’re gone, they’re gone…”

“They were heroes, like you and me. Don’t forget that.”

“I… I know, I just—” Another shuddering breath escapes Clark. “I just— I…”

“It’s okay,” Her voice is forcefully steady, but with an undertone of heartbreak. “It’s okay…”

Dinah looks around the room, her heart heavy.

Clark has left, Diana’s gone after him— both of them need their space, she knows. They were close to Bruce and the other Bats in a way no one else in this room was.

Was.

The word still weighs down on her.

Hal speaks up finally, breaking the deafening silence. “I always thought he hated me.”

No one replies for a long moment.

“I miss the kids,” Barry says finally, his voice quiet. “They were just… Robin was only 14. The others, even Nightwing, they had… they had their whole lives ahead of them.”

More silence.

“Jason, when he was Robin— do y'all remember? Kid was always my favorite,” Ollie says finally. “Was always so sassy. Roy loves him.”

Loves. Dinah winces, but doesn’t correct him. It’s easier to believe they’re just gone for a little while.

“Bruce was a good man,” Arthur adds. “They all were.”

“Tim was, I believe, the smartest,” J’onn says, somber. “It was his plan that allowed us to save Earth.”

“Damian!” Dinah says suddenly, jumping from her seat. “His… his mother. She shouldn’t have to find out from someone else.”

Everyone freezes, faces tight.

Dinah sighs, looking down. “I’ll do it.”

Then she leaves the room, dragging what feels like a heavy weight tied to her soul. She has to do this.

Roy’s sitting in a corner of his apartment, hugging his knees. All he can think of is Jason.

He’s never coming back.

He can still feel the lingering ‘goodbye’ kiss Jason gave him not two days ago, he can still hear him say, “I’ll be back before you know it, babe.”

He never came back.

He’s dead. Dead— dead dead dead DEAD DEAD—

“Small Red not okay?” A booming voice snaps Roy out of his thoughts. He looks up to see Bizarro’s pale blue skin and cold eyes looming over him. He’s crying. “Red him coming back.”

It takes Roy a second to register that Bizarro speaks backwards. It takes everything in him to not punch him for saying that, for giving him false hope.

He feels something he hasn’t felt in years— feels that whisper in his mind— one hit and it’ll all feel better. Just one hit.

NO! He screams mentally. He feels like bashing his head open.

Instead he lifts his dead eyes to survey the rest of the room— Kori’s on the couch, staring into space. Artemis has a crying Lian in her arms, she’s showing her something— old photos of Jason. Talking, whispering in a broken voice.

No, no he should be the one comforting Lian—

What’s he gonna say?

That— That Jason— That her Papa’s gone forever? That he’s never— he’s never coming back?

No— Jay— Jay deserved so much better, he— he already died once before, he’s been through so much, things were supposed to be better now— not— no, he’s— 

Roy feels Bizarro sit beside him, gently patting his arm.

He snaps out of his thoughts again, turning to Jason’s former teammate, his eyes red-rimmed. His voice raw, he whispers, “Jay’s gone…”

Wally’s standing in the Hall of Heroes, staring up at the holographic projection of Dick— he looks so majestic, so mighty, staring ahead with nothing but hope and courage in his eyes.

Nothing like the cold, dead body that Wally held in his arms just two days ago.

He’s surrounded by his teammates, his friends— Kaldur, M’gann, Artemis, Zatanna, L’gann, Garth— yet he feels so alone.

He sees it again— Dick bleeding out it his arms, his wounds so fatal he died before help arrived. Wally’s the fastest man alive, damn it, yet he couldn’t even save his best friend— his boyfriend. He feels the moment when Dick’s breathing stopped, when his body went limp, when his grip on Wally’s hand loosened.

Everyone’s quiet. M’gann’s stress baking again, L’gann by her side. Artemis and Zatanna are sitting together, Garth’s lingering in a corner, and Kaldur’s standing right beside Wally— close enough for comfort but not so close he’s lurking. He’s shaking.

He can still hear it, hear Dick forcing out his last words, telling Wally it’s okay, that he loves him, that it’ll be fine.

It’s not fine. Not without you.

He wants to scream.

He wants to cry, yell, hit something, do anything.

But he can’t move.

So he just stands there, almost as still as the holographic projection of Dick before him.

Kon is left reeling.

Tim… Tim is…

Tim’s dead.

Tim’s really gone.

He thinks, for just a second, that this is how Tim and Cassie must have felt when he and Bart “died”.

Bart is sitting beside him on the couch, leaning on his side, Cassie’s got her head on his lap. Neither of them speak— Bart’s not even fidgeting— they’re all just trying to be there for each other.

The other Titans are up and about, but staying close for comfort. Jaime and Gar are making food for everyone in the kitchen, Raven and Vic have come back to the tower to make sure the others are okay, and he’s sure Karen’s around too, somewhere.

Yet he feels so empty.

Feels nothing at all.

How can he, when his best friend is dead?

Jon hasn’t spoken in a bit. Not when his Mom brought him his favorite soup, not when Grandma and Grandpa showed up to ‘help’ him and Dad through this, not when Krypto plopped down beside him to comfort him.

He hugs the dog close.

Krypto’s technically Kon’s, but Jon’s sure Kon wouldn’t mind if he stole Krypto for a day.

Another sob escapes him, and he buries his head in Krypto’s back. The dog whines, licking Jon’s hand.

He can’t believe Damian’s gone. 

Really gone.

And he didn’t know just how much he would miss his friend.

Dinah finds Talia Al Ghul on a building in Metropolis, overlooking the city. Her face is tight with sorrow, but she keeps herself in check, her back straight, head held high.

She already knows, Dinah deduces.

“I… I’m sorry,” Dinah starts, unsure of what to say. She knows, from her experience as a psychologist, that ‘sorry’ is the last thing a grieving person wants to hear, but she doesn’t have anything else to say.

Talia doesn’t reply for a long time. Then she says, her voice numb, “I should have known, when bringing Damian into this life, that I would also be bringing him amidst the dangers that come with.”

Dinah’s brows furrow. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have done anything at all.”

“I should have trained him better, I should have kept him close, I should—” Talia takes a shuddering breath. “I should have never brought him into this life.”

Dinah can’t argue with that— she knows how Damian had come to be, and it… wasn’t the best birth ever.

“Now leave, hero,” Talia says, her voice numb and cold. “Go back to protecting the world. Leave me be.”

Dinah wants to say something better, comfort the woman, but she can’t. So she just turns back, and leaves.

By the time Harper Row makes her way to the Clock Tower, there’s already quite a crowd there— Kate, Renee Montoya, Harley, Ivy, Silena, and Helena Bertinili— they’re crowding around Babs, comforting her. Luke Fox and Isabella Ortiz are at the computer, looking through something.

Harper tries to open her mouth to speak, but she can’t get the words out.

She makes her way over to Luke and Izzy, shoulders hunched.

Just three days ago she’d been hanging out with Duke and Izzy and Cass and Steph— they’d all been so carefree, so happy…

And now…

Once she gets close enough she realizes Izzy’s crying, and immediately wraps her arms around the shorter girl. Harper’s trying to hold back tears of her own, too. She feels Luke putting a hesitant hand on her shoulder, squeezing tight.

No one speaks for a long time, they just stand together, seeking comfort in each other.

Then Babs rolls her wheelchair to the center of the room, wiping at her bloodshot eyes. But when she speaks, she sounds surprisingly steady. She’s compartmentalizing, Harper realizes. Putting away Barbara and bringing Oracle back.

“Gotham needs her heroes, now more than ever,” Oracle says, head held high. “We must honor our friends by doing the one thing they’d have wanted— to keep fighting. Keep Gotham safe.”

She sighs, her face tight to fight away tears. “Luke. Batman’s contingency plan, in the Robins’ absence, was to pass you the mantle of Batman. Do you accept?”

Luke’s eyes grow wide slightly, but he straightens himself, looking away. “I… I accept. Dad isn’t going to be happy, but… Gotham needs Batman.”

“Thank you.” Oracle nods at him. “As per Bruce’s will, all Wayne assets, the Manor, and the Batcave are split between Kate, me, Alfred, and Lucius. I… Lucius and I are still figuring out who’s going to take over Wayne Enterprises, but on the vigilante side, I’ve got a plan.”

She turns to Ivy, Harley, Kate, Silena and Helena. “The Birds of Prey are needed here, now more than ever. Dinah— Black canary has offered to help us with Gotham, too.” 

Harley nods, sniffling. Beside her, Ivy speaks up, “The… Most Rogues aren’t happy about this. They’re not rampaging— Bane has fashioned his own version of the Batsuit, he’s going around ‘saving’ people, screaming that Batman never dies. The Joker’s searching for Lazarus Pits and Bruce’s body. Jervis Tetch and Nygma held a get-together yesterday, in the memory of the Bats. I… I think they might help us.”

Harper’s gotta admit, she’s quite surprised about this. Even Babs freezes, taking in this information.

“Gotham needs Robin as much as she needs Batman,” Izzy speaks up from beside her, her voice small but firm. “The Robins can come back, this time you can give us formal training so we can actually help.”

Oracle turns to Luke. “Taking on Robins is your decision, Batman.”

Luke winces at that title— it doesn’t feel like an honor to him, it just feels like an incessant reminder that he’s the last one left. Because his friends are dead. But he nods, anyway, not trusting himself to speak right now.

Then Oracle addresses Harper. “I… would you like to be Batgirl?”

Harper’s heart stops. Memories flash into her head— seeing Steph in the Batgirl costume, seeing Cass in the Batgirl suit, both of whom are now gone.

“N— No,” Harper stutters out, eyes tearful. “I can’t— I’m sorry, Babs. I appreciate the offer, but… Cass was Batgirl. I can’t take her place.”

“I understand.” Babs just nods, lips pursed, misty-eyed. “We will all need to work hand-in-hand until everything settles, we will need to be vigilant. Carry on Batman’s legacy, for as long as we may need to.”

No one speaks again.

They all just let it sink in, hearts heavy.

They’re going to have to do this alone now.

#batfam #batfamily #justice league #core four #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #harper row #barbara gordon #luke fox #jayroy #dickwally #birdflash #timkon #damijon #jla

[chelleztjs18]

Dandelions (S.J)

Scarlett Johansson x Actress Female!Reader

Summary: When love comes between friendships.

Warning: None, just a little angsty fic.

A/n: Hello! It feels good to be back here with my very first fic of Scarlet Johansson. It was inspired by this sweet song but for some reason i feel angst from it so i wrote this. I hope you like this fic! To angst lovers, i have more coming. :D Happy reading!

Main Masterlist

Her fingers rake through your hair, giving you soft touches on your head that takes you to cloud nine. You know you fell in love with her since the first time you both met at a charity event. Since then you both became inseparable. She has been so sweet and caring to you.

Having a picnic with her under the tree on a field of dandelions on a beautiful day feels definitely so nice and wakes up the butterflies in your stomach for real.

Her green soothing eyes locking gaze with you. The smile that was patched on her face is insanely beautiful. You feel okay when you see her smile. You look at her lips then back to her eyes. Your mind quickly plays all of the smiles and laughter when you two spend time together.

Your heart beats like crazy. She looks back deep into your eyes. You love the feelings of her body on you. You can feel her front lying on yours. One of her hands lay flat on your chest and prompt her head up. Her fingers run smoothly on your face and give a rush of soft electric waves all over your body. It's the best feeling and you can never get enough of it.

Gosh, you adore her so much. Her voice is like a melody to your ears. All the teasing sweet words she says and you love the little vibration from her body onto yours when she laughs at your jokes.

Her eyes drinking the view of you under her with awe. It gets so hard for you to breathe when she is looking at you. The sunlight for sure makes her beauty look even more flawless.

Her hair sparkles perfectly as if you see stars even though it's broad daylight.

"You look so beautiful." You told her as your right hand cups her left cheek.

"And you are so adorable." She replied, followed with a giggle as she held your right hand then kissed it softly.

"I love how I feel when I'm with you. You have made me happier since we met. I love how I am when you are with me. Promise me that you won't ever leave me." She adds and her eyes twinkles. You see her cheeks blush.

"I won't go anywhere. I promise." You smile and give her assurance she needs.

Your heart beats fast and slow at the same time as soon as you see her face get closer to you and her lips meet yours. You love the softness brushes your lips and how she doesn’t let go of the kiss for a few seconds. You can say it was a few seconds of a trip to heaven and back.

Every kiss you had with her felt so real, including this one until you heard a familiar voice interrupt everything. “Aaaand, CUT!” You feel her lips leave yours right after that. You internally complain, NO..NO, you secretly hate it.

“That was a wrap, everybody!” Pat, the director announced and everybody on set cheered and clapped at the same time.

Lizzie smiles at you and then quickly gets up, so do you. Trying hard to hide how you really feel. You smile back at her as Pat comes to the both of you.

“Lizzie, Y/n! That was awesome! I really love the chemistry both of you have! Every single kiss scene you two did really warmed my heart. Are you sure both of you are just friends?” Compliments flowed freely out of his lips followed by a joke and a teasing smirk.

All you and Lizzie did was laugh. You laughed nervously but you saw her laugh with no problem. Gosh, you wish you could hear her thoughts now to find out what her laugh means and that blush, why did she blush?

A few minutes of talk later, Pat finally left you both alone.

“Wow, today was easier than I thought. So, I’ll see you next week for lunch as we planned?” The brunette asks with an excited tone and a huge smile as her hand reaches your hair to clean some dandelions off your hair..

“Oh yeah, of course. You better not cancel on me.” You replied with your little joke. “Of course I won’t. By that time, I will already miss you, silly.” She responds. You see her smiling again but then you realize it wasn’t for you as she waves to the direction behind you.

You turn your head curiously only to find Robbie smiles at Lizzie while talking with some of the cast. Your stomach churns, your heart aches. You tried to hold back a disappointed sigh. Yes you are jealous. How could you not?

You have been secretly falling in love with her and have been there for her. Of course, by the time you decided to make a move, you also saw that Lizzie and Robbie started to see each other. You retreated yourself from your plan. All you could do now is to accept the fact that being her best friend is the only way to stay close with her and to love or care about her.

“Ohhh, Le boyfriend is here.” you tease Lizzie with a fake french accent and it makes her laugh. She rolls her eyes playfully. “Yes, y/n. Don’t be jealous, you know that I see you more than I see him, right? Plus you’ll see me again next week.” Lizzie replies with her own version of teasing. She hits your arm in a frisky way as she giggles. You and Lizzie love teasing each other casually.

”I know, I know. So how are things with you and Robbie?” You pitched the question to change the topic. “We are good. He’s just busy with his band and sometimes we argue a little but we handle it pretty well so far. It has its ups and downs.” Lizzie tells you her private life comfortably.

As she speaks, Lizzie notices a familiar face. “Oh Scarlett’s here, y/n.” she informed and her elbows nudged yours knowingly for sure that the blonde actress is here for you. Lizzie waves at her excitedly before she smiles at you and then proceeds to give you a kiss on your cheek and bids her farewell.

"I'll see you next week, okay? See you, y/n. Also, that was a good kiss scene." you feel Lizzie’s hand gently rubs up and down your upper arm followed by a teasing wink.

Your mind always wonders if Lizzie really meant all the teasing banter she does to you or it was just a pure joke to her. Sometimes you swear that she looks at you in the eyes differently as if she has feelings for you but you always think maybe you were wrong and never take any actions to it. You don’t want to ruin the friendship.

You are lost in your thoughts as you watch Lizzie do little small talks and laugh with Scarlett.

Scarlett’s voice greets you excitedly as soon as she gets in front of you. “Hey, y/n?” the older woman instantly gives the warmest hug possible. “Hi Scar.”

“How was the last filming today?” Scarlett asks while trying to keep herself together as she looks at your eyes then to your lips before her gaze gets back to your eyes again with her hands in her back pocket to contain how she really feels. She knows what scene you had to do with Lizzie today. The second you told her about it a few months ago, her heart kept wishing that it would be her who does the kissing scene with you, not Lizzie nor another actress in your other movie you play.

Her heart belongs to you. She has been secretly keeping her feelings to you all this time. You never tell Scarlett about your feelings with Lizzie but she sometimes notices how you look at the brunette whenever the three of you hang out.

Scarlett always looks at you the same way you look at Lizzie but you never notice it. She sees forever in your eyes while you are sure that Lizzie is the love of yours.

Little that you know Scarlet wishes for you all the time. When you are looking at her, she never feels so alive and free but to you, when Lizzie looks at you have never felt so happy.

“It was good and easy.” you answer and your cheeks blush as soon as you remember how the kiss felt to you. You smile awkwardly. Scarlet looks at you dearly with a little smile, thinking how happy she is everytime she sees you.

Scarlett has been venting out with you about her marriage for a while. You know in the back of your head every story she told you while she cried and you held the tissue box. He takes her for granted. You have been a very good listener and have been there for her even when she was going through her divorce until it was finalized a year ago. All the sweet things you do and care give her made Scarlett fall for you.

A lot of what if’s halt her steps to confess her feelings for you. Worry fills her heart that you will walk away from her if she does so. Her mind sometimes wonders if you will like an older divorced single mom, let alone being in a relationship with one.

“How’s the launching preparations for your new product? I’m so excited for you. Are you ready? Thank you for inviting me to have lunch with your business partner.” your hands do a little exciting clap expressing how thrilled you are.

Your words stop her bouncing thoughts in her mind. “Of course! Yes, I’m ready. Are you?” she tries to answer it as if she was not thinking nothing about you, followed with a smile.

“Yeah, let’s go.” As soon as you are about to leave, Scarlett stops you. “Wait, y/n. You forgot something."

You turn around and find her holding up to you a dandelion. "I forgot what, Scar?"

"We are in a dandelion field so at least you have to make a wish and blow it, silly. Here, one for you and one for me." Scarlett suggests with a playful smile.

"Oh, i don't know about that but okay, i'll do it." You smile with agreement and take the dandelion.

You close your eyes and make your wish, so did she.

Both of you blow the dandelions at the same time. You wish on every one that Lizzie will be yours someday and Scarlett wishes that you will be hers.

A/n: Welp, that's all for today folks! I hope u enjoy it. Let me know what you think. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Follow me for more and see you in next!

Cheerio!

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