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letarasstuff · 2 years

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Do You know what this is, Mr Bray?

(A/N): This has sat in my drafts for over 2 months and I'm sorry for taking so long to finally finish this request. I hope it lives up to expection

Summary: Wendell and the reader are dating. How will telling the team go down?

Aka Booth goes into Dad Mode

Warnings: Mention of small explosion, the reader has small burns on the arm from that, talking about a weapon (gun to be specific) and my obvious lack of knowledge regarding those, if there is more, please tell me

Wordcount: 1.9k

✨Masterlist✨

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After putting the car into park, Wendell tries to take the keys from the ignition. But the little shaking of his hands proves to make this whole endeavor even more difficult. A gentle hand cups his, holding it steady and helping him with the task.

“Darling, if you are not ready, we don’t have to.” (Y/N) looks at him with soft eyes, sensing the distress Wendell is practically radiating like a heater. Still he shakes his head. “No, I’m ready. Really, it’s just that I feel like I’m meeting my girlfriends’ family for the first time. Which in some way, I do.” He laughs nervously and scratches his neck before losing his buckle.

A laugh erupts from the passenger’s seat. “You don’t. You know everyone, you work here, silly!” (Y/N) boops her boyfriend's nose before exiting the vehicle. Another smile spreads on her face upon seeing what feels like her second home since she is spending so much time there: The Jeffersonian Institute.

Both Wendell and (Y/N) work as “Squintern” there and happened to meet on a case a few months back. Quickly after realizing that this is the woman of his dreams, the blond asked her out and well, the rest is history.

In the beginning of their relationship the two decided to keep it on the low, wanting to figure out the way this is heading for themselves without the prying eyes of the other squinterns, snide comments by Dr. Brennan or the nagging from Angela as well as the awkward behavior Cam always puts on after obtaining information like this one. Also, Wendell is scared of Booth’s reaction, claiming his watchful eyes over them would burn the hairs in his back.

“Yeah I know, my little dove. But, they are practically our family and soon they will know the youngest of it are dating. Not that we are something like siblings- god no, this wasn’t what I wanted to imply. I just meant- I don’t know how to talk my way out of this,” he sheepishly looks at (Y/N), his face red as a tomato. In return, she kisses his cheek, rubbing a hand over his bicep in an affectionate manner.

“Don’t worry, Darling. They all will be happy for us, I mean either that or they don’t care at all. Both reactions are not bad for us.” But his troubled face still doesn’t vanish. “Honestly, I’m just scared of Booth.”

Again, this theme. Sensing your annoyance, Wendell quickly explains himself. “A few days ago, when I touched your shoulder while complimenting your work of reconstructing the skull, Booth watched us and had this ‘don’t touch my daughter again’ look on his face. And I have seen this in fathers of previous girls I was in relationships with, but none of them needed to pass a gun qualification regularly or are trained in a military level in what seems every single life aspect. I swear, he can snap me in two by just looking at me.”

(Y/N)’s lips leave an exasperated sigh. They discussed this topic over and over again. Wendell is more than sure that both Brennan and Booth adopted her as their unofficial child since they know her since she was a junior in high school and watched her grow up and supported her career as a forensic anthropologist from the beginning.

(Y/N) on the other hand feels like this is not true at all due to all the comments they make she feels like they are just people sharing a long friendship. Said comments are teasing, but Wendell and her are still working on the whole social cues thing together.

“Darling, you are imagining things. Just yesterday Seeley called me the single reason for getting gray hair after Jack and I blew up a little bit during an experiment.” He animatedly gestures his hands in her direction. “Exactly! This is something only a father figure say- wait. Hodgins and you blew up during an experiment! Why didn’t you tell me about that?!” His face immediately takes a look of new worry, a deeper one than the previous one. That was only about people’s opinion, but this look is about his girlfriend’s safety.

“I told you to be more careful when you conduct these with him! You know what- I’m gonna kill him for being this reckless all the time” this and many more things does Wendell grumble while the two of them make their way through security without any hitches.

Now it’s her turn to look sheepishly at him. “Look, I didn’t tell you not because I didn’t want to, I just forgot about it. And we are both fine! We only lost a few arm hairs and have some slight burns. We were already scolded by Cam, so you don’t need to lecture me too.”

But this doesn’t help Wendell’s mood either. “I will lecture you as long and as often as I see fit. It seems like the amount I already did wasn’t enough, because here you are, telling me about something like that as if you were talking about what you had for lunch. I need to be informed if you get injured. I need to make sure you are fine mentally, emotionally and physically. That’s part of the job description as your boyfriend. Show me the burns, please.”

While Wendell lectures (Y/N) and inspects her injuries they continue to walk towards the platform, not paying attention to who is close by. Until a voice cuts his rant off with a loud “BOYFRIEND?! OH MY GOD!” Coming from nobody less than Angela Montenegro herself.

The scream is loud enough that everyone comes out of their offices, throwing away any project they were working on. While (Y/N)’s face turns hot by all of the sudden attention, Wendell’s gets white as a ghost seeing Booth step out of Brennan’s office.

Unfazed by the couple’s expressions, Angela has still her gaze fixated on them. Wendell’s hand still clasps around (Y/N)’s wrist in order to deem the burns non life-threatening. “I knew it! I knew that you two are together! Jack, pay up!” A groan comes from the entomologist. “You just made me fifty bucks poorer, kids. I hope you are happy now.” He says with a sigh, getting his wallet out of his back pocket and hands a bill to the brunette. Her smile is unmatched.

“Is that true, Mr Bray? Are you having a relationship with Miss (Y/L/N)?” Brennan asks the now red faced man. Booth positions himself next to hir, his arms crossed in front of him with his face turning into an intimidating look.

His eyes are switching between his boss, her husband and his girlfriend. The last one gives him an encouraging smile. After taking a deep breath he gives her a nod paired with a smile of his own. He lets go of her wrist, instead threading his fingers through hers. “Yes,” he says, turning towards Temperance, “Miss (Y/L/N) and I are engaging in a relationship.”

She looks at him with a satisfied smile on her face. “Well then, I wish you two good luck. Also, (Y/N),” Brennan addresses her, ”I want you to remember what we have talked about.” Now it’s the young woman’s turn to look embarrassed. Still, she gives out a meekly “Yes, I do.”

Hoping that this whole ordeal is over now, the male turns back to the platform, where Cam already awaits her team. She has a warm look for the youngest between the group.

But he isn’t let off the hook that easily.

“Wendell, I got something in my car that I need help with”, Booth shouts for him, leaving no room for discussion. While most of the team gives him a look of terror and pity, (Y/N) flashes him a smile and a sublte thumbs up, thinking that Seeley really does need help with something.

The way to the garage is basked in an uncomfortable silence. Uncomfortable for Wendell at least, Booth is enjoying this obviously. After what feels like an eternity, he decides to break it.

“So, Wendell Bray. What do you think is the reason you are dating (Y/N)?” Startled by the sudden question, the young man gaps at the agent. He needs a second to collect himself again. “I- Agent Booth, we, I- ahem- I date your- (Y/N)! I date (Y/N) because I love her, Agent Booth.” Ok, maybe he isn’t as collected as he thought he is.

“Aha”, Seeley acknowledges, popping the trunk of his SUV open, “Isn’t love a pretty strong word?” Wendell watches him take a big plastic case out.

“It is, still I’m sure. I love (Y/N) and she loves me. We both are willing to make this relationship work. We know that our jobs are demanding and we both are dedicated to our careers. I think that’s why we understand each other so well and know exactly what the other one needs. I attend just as much to her needs as (Y/N) does to mine. I know love isn’t enough to keep a relationship alive, but it’s part of the foundation.” He looks up at the agent with nothing but honesty in his eyes. It makes Seeley sigh before popping the plastic case open.

Inside is some kind of rifle. After all, Wendell is not a weapon expert, so every gun with a long snout is a rifle to him. “This, my dear Mr Bray, is one of my specialties. If - I’m talking in an ‘if’, I can’t give you more - if you hurt (Y/N), I’ll follow you around with this one. You know, this kid is like a daughter to me and Bones, so you know what this talk is about. Except for, I won’t kill you. Injure? Yes, definitely. But not kill. I want you to live with the guilt of hurting one of the most innocent souls on this earth. You’ll never see this - me - coming. Understood?”

Booth’s expression should induce the biggest fear into Wendell he ever felt. Instead, a wave of great respect overcomes him. Now he knows that there are people caring about his girlfriend beyond a friendship level. There is a familial bond, people (Y/N) can and does rely on outside from him. “Understood and respected, Sir.” They shake hands, exchanging mutual respect.

“Good, now that this is settled, I wish you two the best,” He tells the young man while packing everything up again and closing the trunk. “You are kind of the best fit for her in a lab like that. God knows you are the only normal one, and I got a wife and a nearly-daughter in there. Let’s get back inside before they send the cops out, thinking I killed you. We should also meet up for a beer or something soon again, have a man to man talk. What do you think?”

As they enter the platform in a cheery manner, everyone looks at the pair with bulging eyeballs. Everyone except for (Y/N), who is just happy to see them getting along just the way they were before the announcement. After all, she is right.

If you read this far, please consider leaving a comment or a reblog (or even a commented reblog). Giving feedback has the same effect on writers as watering your plants, it will help them grow <3

#wendell bray x reader #seeley booth x reader #temperance brennan x reader #angela montenegro x reader #jack hodgins x reader #wendell bray #bones team #bones team x reader #bones fanfiction #x reader #reader insert

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pxrifiedmxniac · 2 years

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Just like I did for Hasbro’s Fan First Tuesday, I’m gonna give my thoughts on each reveal for wave 3 of Transformers Legacy. Why? Because I want to! My blog, my post!

Pointblank... or Blanker. Odd that they’re using his Japanese name, but still cool! Honestly, I kinda like him! I was expecting this to be a remold of Punch/Counterpunch from one of the other lines, but nope! New mold! And he’s supposed to come with his little Targetmaster buddy. So, cool! Gonna get him to go with Crosshairs.

While he is a remold of Skids, I’m still happy we’re getting Crankcase finally. This little dude has had nothing for so long and it’s finally good to see him getting a new toy based off his G1 look. We’ll see if he does have the flip-out guns in his backpack. Even if he doesn’t, gonna get him since he deserves it for the amount of time we haven’t had one. Hell even third-party companies haven’t touched him.

Not surprised to see Dead End in wave 3 since we’ve got Dragstrip in wave 1 and Wildrider in wave 2. But still, he looks good! Looks like an extensive remold of Dragstrip, but that’s no problem for me since he was already a great figure. I’m going in on the Stunticons for sure! Legacy Menasor will be mine~!!!!

Oh Skullgrin looks siiiiiiick! I’ve seen his vehicle mode pics and I think it looks fine. But this robot mode actually looks pretty metal with the gnarly skull head he has (Skullgrin with a skull head? Who knew?). I really do like what they’ve been doing with these Pretenders. Basically instead of a robot inside a plastic shell, they basically made the shell into the actual robot. Which is cool because the shells looked cool, but didn’t do anything and the core robots were too spindly and barely even transformed. This, like Iguanus, is a good compromise and it makes me look forward to Metalhawk even more.

I’ve already mentioned Armada Starscream, but it bears repeating. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!! IT’S MY FAVORITE VERSION OF STARSCREAM AND HE LOOKS SO GOOD AND I WANT HIM AND I WANT HIM DONE UP AS THUNDERCRACKER AND SKYWARP AND RAMJET AND AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Beast Wars Inferno was revealed along with Starscream, but Starscream had all my hype. But, Inferno here looks really really good and I want him because I want all of the Predacons from Beast Wars. Also helps that he has an articulated jaw as well. Definite buy for me as well. Now, where are Depthcharge, Silverbolt, Rampage, and Quickstrike? THE ROYALTY COMMANDS IT!!! Speaking of which...

Mmm yes! Yes yes yes! All of the yes! A Transmetal 2 Megatron figure that doesn’t have the flaky chrome and looks super good! While it does look like a very extensive remold of Kingdom’s Beast Wars Megatron, there’s so much different that he stands out on his own and those are the remolds I love. And yes, the wings can spread out more than how they look here for that full silhouette. And he comes with a flame breath part! So yeah. Another buy for me!

This was definitely a surprise for me and I really like how this look. For those of you who don’t know, these characters are Alpha Trion (left) and Orion Pax (right). Orion Pax is who would eventually be Optimus Prime. So, this is a set meant to be before the conversion into Optimus himself and both of them look really good for being remolds of Studio Series 86 Scoure and Kup. Helps that the set also comes with the Key to Vector Sigma and Vector Sigma itself. So yeah, this may be the best way for me to get a G1 Orion Pax and Alpha Trion.

So yeah. All-in-all, wave 3 is really looking good!

#OutOfLifeFibers #mun being a derp

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spices-and-cherries · 3 years

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Handling cultural differences with Yondu Udonta would include...

Okay, so I lied... I won’t finish Rampage before posting Michael Rooker content... I just had ideas that needed to be realized. Also, I’ve finally replied to a bunch of your lovely comments! I apologize for not doing so before - I kept putting it off (and I couldn’t figure out how bc I’m dumb like that). I’d also like to say that one or two of these were loosely inspired by Vital, a Yondu fanfic written by the one and only @loveisyondublue! Please check it out if you haven’t - you’re in for a treat!

I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!

Masterlist:

- Literature and media is present in many alien cultures, so the concept of what a movie or book is is not completely lost on Yondu (there’s also Peter to thank). The problem is that it’s super rare to find any from Terra. The stuff you do find, you either don’t have the right equipment to watch it on or it’s in another language...

- Alien music is kinda fun, but kinda dangerous too. You have to be careful if there’s a live performance somewhere because some vocal frequencies - while fine for others - are painful for Terrans. You once were at a bar with Yondu and there was a live performance. Halfway through the third set, Yondu freaked. You had started to bleed out of your ears, but hadn’t noticed. You ended up being fine, but Yondu has never been the same since.

- You do tell Yondu and the Guardians (and anyone interested) about different Terran things. He likes anything that has to do with treasure and jokes about planning a trip to Terra to see if he can snatch anything. He also likes any and all fun facts that you have. They’re weird and he might not fully understand them, but he likes it all the same.

- He also enjoys learning about Terran history. Great wars, diasporas, coups, ancient civilizations and anything else you can remember are all interesting to him. He’s found that there’s a lot more to Terra than he’d originally thought.

- Of course, you stopped talking about mystical creatures and the like after he looked at you like you were crazy. Vampires? Turns out there’s a planet full of them less than a galaxy away. Phoenixes? There was one at the auction house on the planet you were just on. Zombies? There’s one coming straight at you! Okay, maybe not the last one, but after he started pointing these things out, you stopped bothering. It was too much for your heart to handle.

- He can’t handle spicy food. At all. You found some Terran spices once and tried to replicate a dish that you really liked. It came out pretty good, so you shared some with Yondu. To say he was unhappy with you would be an understatement, but it didn’t last long (sulking meant he couldn’t get any kisses).

- Terran food in general is just weird to him so you don’t bother explaining it - unless you (miraculously) find something that you recognize.

- Ravagers are not exactly known for their cleanliness and hygiene. Yondu’s disregard for his personal upkeep is something you were actively trying to fix, but you stopped given the circumstances: showers are kept to a minimum out of the need to preserve resources, Terran-safe toothpaste is even more expensive than the normal kinds (which you learned have acids that burn your gums the hard way), toilet paper is a luxury... So you find yourself adapting instead. It’s uncomfortable, but you manage to make do with what you got.

- Yondu thinks it’s funny that you call ships ‘vehicles’. The first time you slipped up by saying you had left something in the car, he was so confused. When you explained to him what a car was, he was even more confused. Cue an hour long conversation on the different modes of transportation available on Terra. He’s both impressed and amused (repeatedly muttered ‘yacht’ under his breath throughout the rest of the day, making himself giggle).

- You think politics on Earth are complicated? Space politics is so confusing, it’s scary. You have no idea how Yondu keeps tabs on all the goings on. How does he keep track? When did he have the time to read the ‘morning paper’? Does he not get all the names confused? You really do try to understand, but it makes you wanna cry out of frustration.

- The two of you have a long conversation on what respect means. His definition is based on fear and leadership, which is very different from yours. It’s hard for you to adapt and it’s hard for him to understand, but the two of you are getting somewhere. Once you managed to find the balance between work and your relationship, things got a lot smoother.

- His concept of what counts as cheating is also different than yours. He hasn’t really been in many relationships, so he doesn’t get it. He also hasn’t learned that going to fellow ravagers for love advice isn’t the best idea. He claims they hadn’t done him wrong yet, but fails to realize less than a quarter of them have ever been in a relationship. It’s the thought that counts?

- To say that you’re not used to sleeping in a puppy pile is saying something. Your back and muscles are just not built for it. Also someone was stabbed in their sleep not too long after you joined, so that’s fun to think about. Thankfully, even before your relationship started, Yondu had you sleep next to him.

-----

I hope you all enjoyed this! I know it’s not Daniel Craig, but I have been wanting to expand a little. Please tell me what you think or if there are other Michael Rooker characters you’d like to see (I’m thinking Clyde Dutton from Love and Monsters)... My asks are always open and comments are always welcome!

- Simpy

#yondu udonta x reader #yondu x reader #yondu udonta #x reader #michael rooker #guardians of the galaxy #sfw headcanons #sfw #Domestic Bliss #fluff

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gamer-logic · 3 years

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Hetalia Platonic Ships Week Day 2: Coronvirus Chaos

When the virus hit, all the countries were forced to cancel the meeting and quarantine at their respective houses, and use zoom. Here are my headcanons of how the 1p and 2ps would fair!

Americans: With quarantine active, Alfred and Allen had to stay home which also meant the states stay too. Because this is our lovable all-American family, they go full-on zombie apocalypse mode with California and New York trying to panic buy all the toilet paper. Needless to say, they're not on grocery duty anymore. After this initial panic, things start out fine despite Alfred's meltdown about not getting to go to McDonald's anymore and Allen's subsequent victory lap because he won't have to be near the junk anymore. As their giant house is built on an estate because where else is big enough to put fifty kids and various farm and exotic animals including a large enough pool for Ameriwhale, and workshop with various vehicles Allen immediately takes control of the kitchen from Alfred and is dead set on making him eat better. He also gets the kids in on it and soon enough Alfred is hogtied to his chair, courtesy of Texas, and trying out every vegan dish Allen wants. The kids are wild and it doesn't take long for cabin fever to start kicking in though, but both Alfred and Allen are able to mitigate this by planning daily hikes and other outdoor activities. Oregon doing yoga much to the chagrin of a sailor mouthed New Jersey, Texas and Arizona teach everyone the ways of the wide-open range and many survival skills. Lastly, everyone has many movie marathons beginning with, of course, Marvel. Tony also joins them after coming out of his video game hibernation. One question why no one's one's thought to ask Tony about making a cure for the pandemic with his alien tech. Though that may be a good thing as who knows how that alien stuff would affect a human.

Americans: With quarantine active, Alfred and Allen had to stay home which also meant the states stay too. Because this is our lovable all-American family, they go full-on zombie apocalypse mode with California and New York trying to panic buy all the toilet paper. Needless to say, they're not on grocery duty anymore. After this initial panic, things start out fine despite Alfred's meltdown about not getting to go to McDonald's anymore and Allen's subsequent victory lap because he won't have to be near the junk anymore. As their giant house is built on an estate because where else is big enough to put fifty kids and various farm and exotic animals including a large enough pool for Ameriwhale, and workshop with various vehicles Allen immediately takes control of the kitchen from Alfred and is dead set on making him eat better. He also gets the kids in on it and soon enough Alfred is hogtied to his chair, courtesy of Texas, and trying out every vegan dish Allen wants. The kids are wild a and it doesn't take long for cabin fever to start kicking in though, but both Alfred and Allen are able to mitigate this by planning daily hikes and other outdoor activities. Oregon doing yoga much to the chagrin of a sailor mouthed New Jersey, Texas and Arizona teach everyone the ways of the wide-open range and many survival skills. Lastly, everyone has many movie marathons beginning with, of course, Marvel. Tony also joins them after coming out of his video game hibernation. One question why no one's one's thought to ask Tony about making a cure for the pandemic with his alien tech. Though that may be a good thing as who knows how that alien stuff would affect a human. Alfred likes to mess with the filters on the screen to tick off Authur but gets serious when it matters. Also, Tony hacks into the meeting from time to time to hear updates so he can better understand how to cure the virus and also troll everyone. Allen is running damage control to keep the kids from killing themselves and they'll often switch.

The Canadians: Similar to the Americans with how they're quarantined at home with the 13 provinces. They actually start panic buying too. However, instead of toilet paper, they buy up everyone's pancake ingredients and a bottle of maple syrup insight into every normal human's befuddlement. Hey, feeding 13 kids is hard! Unlike the states, the 13 last even shorter t thanks to Quebec who sees a prime opportunity to rebel once more. As for groceries, Quebec gets them for his punishment. Kuma and Kumajirou provide great comfort to animals when it starts getting tense and anxious due to cabin fever. Not only that, but they bring home the literal bacon with James when he goes hunting. Watching Kuma go pounding through the woods with Kuma on his back is a sight to behold and has since gained over 5 billion views on Utube. Everyone helps out in remedying this by creating a ginormous fort for them all to sleep in. This eventually includes Quebec when his punishment ends. Kuma likes sitting in Canada's lap during zoom meetings while James often struggles with keeping the provinces in check. Cue him doing an exact impression of the video with the woman sliding in like she's on ice to get the kids out while her husband is on video.

The Frenchmen: Francis, the drama queen that he is, freaks out about not being able to go out anymore and being forced to wear such ugly masks. Luiz could care less as this is exactly what he's been doing and just carries on until he hast to calm Franics' shrieking at how he'd been forced to home and not go shopping anymore. Francis ends up collaborating with Flavio in his new mask line to remedy the 'threat to fashion everywhere.' He also keeps up with his and Author's rivalry by mail, fondly reminding him of the previous years dealing with ink and a quill. Both Francis and Author have their own chatroom dubbed 'Britain and France's fighting chatroom," or more affectionately, "The 100 years chat."

The German Brothers: They all buy up the beer and Ludwig starts implementing extra training because 'you can't let a pandemic let you get soft! Now run like you're running from a human-sized germ!' Their house soon becomes a minefield with the prank war Lutz and Prussia initiate. Klaus loves the extra peace and quiet he's been getting now. Blackie, Astor, and Berlitz are happy their humans are home much more often now and are getting very spoiled. Ludwig takes control of the computer while on zoom because he knows what the others would do with they got it. Lutz and Gilbert keep making fart sounds and shuffling noises in the background, leaving Klaus to just sigh and a tomato face Ludwig to stammer on with the meeting.

The Italians: Flavio takes one look at the masks and immediately gets inspired for a new, pandemic edition, line of masks, and mask-related cloths including the two in one mask dress. Luciano let all his men go home with their only orders to be safe and stay healthy as he's not willing to relive the Black Plague. Lovino will never admit this, but he's kind of glad for the pandemic since it's given him the chance to spend time with his brother. Though this doesn't;t stop Spain from calling to check in 3 times a day. Feliciano tries to do all kinds of new things to keep everyone's spirits up and is also the guy who stole all the store's pasta, tomatoes, and sauce. Flavio makes all four of them show up fashionably late to the zoom conference despite it being online.

The Russians: Viktor keeps up with his work as much as possible and both he and Ivan have to hide their grins when their president has to quarantine. They don't really like him much. Ivan tries looking at pictures of sunflowers to keep himself occupied. He fears the loneliness quarantine brings, but Viktor tries to be around more so he doesn't get so lonely as he's also felt that pain before. He doesn't want Ivan to be like him who doesn't have friends nor the time for them. Out of the two, Viktor is the most serious about his work and is often seen using zoom for meetings.

The Japanese: Both are enjoying the introvert's paradise but are also worrying over the rising cases in their countries especially since they had to host the Olympics. They did so flawlessly but also struggled in keeping things as stable as possible. They both hold guilt for putting their citizens in such a dangerous situation. Both end up doing a video game/anime marathon with the rest of the Otaku club over zoom. Kuro sets to work refining his swordsmanship skills and actually starts forging new ones. He's a great weaponsmith! Kiku also takes the time to practice his calligraphy. They're the one's who'd have anime playing in the background or their cat, Japaneko, getting in the way.

And last but not least, the ones who started it all, the Chinese: Yao continually works around the clock trying to analyze the bad and how the pandemic got out of hand. Xiao ends up being the one who actually started this because he dared the guy to at the soup. He feels a lot of guilt over this and, in a rare showing of maturity from him, is also working by Yao to fix his mistake that not only risked his and everyone else's people but also killed so many. The pandemic will likely be one of their greatest shames. On a lighter note, Yao can't figure out how zoom works and Xiao likes programming troll hacks into the computer to mess with him.

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itcamefromthetoybox · 3 years

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Yet Another Bumblebee

My apologies for the delay in this review. I just started a new job this previous week and spent the weekend with my family and catching up on housework. Between all that and my own terrible health, I’ve been exhausted.

Fun fact that’s only fun if you’re not trying to buy any Transformer other than Bumblebee: Bumblebee has the most toys and is the easiest to find Transformer of them all. Since he’s so beloved by kids and is the face of the franchise, Hasbro turns out dozens of figures of Bumblebee for every toyline they do, because they both want money and are terrified of losing the rights to the name again, which is why Bumblebee didn’t have any toys for a period of time going from the 90’s until the first live-action movie. So if you want a Bumblebee toy, this is now a golden age for you, aside from the deadly pandemic. If you want a toy of literally anyone else, too bad, because Bumblebee is probably clogging the shelves. Anyways, that brings us to the latest Bumblebee toy, “Studio Series Revenge of The Fallen Bumblebee.”

As anyone who paid attention to popular culture knows, there have been a bunch of live-action Transformers movies, each with toylines that had varying degrees of movie-accuracy and different gimmicks, though the fourth movie onward dropped the gimmicks for the main toyline. The Studio Series toys are Hasbro’s attempt to make Transformers figures as accurate to the screen as possible without going for hundreds of dollars. Based on our introductory paragraph and the fact he’s been in every movie, it shouldn’t shock anyone that Bumblebee has gotten a lot of figures in this line. In fact, this is his 15th figure in the Studio series line, if you count exclusives, and they’ve already unveiled the 16th figure.

Finally, your very own Sam figure to mysteriously lose between movies 3 and 4 with no explanation!

The In terms of looks, Bumblebee does look fantastic. His car mode looks like a Camera and his robot mode looks like it stepped off the screen. For this release, Bumblebee has on raw battle mask he wears occasionally in the films, to make sure collectors don’t say, “I already have a figure that looks just like this,” and pass it up. Basically, though, if you picture Movie Bumblebee, you already know what this figure looks like even if none of the pictures for this review loaded.

In vehicle mode, Bumblebee’s a very nice-looking car and is able to roll smoothly. Honestly, I only have one complaint, and it’s something easily fixed. Bumblebee’s robot mode gun stores on the back of his vehicle mode via two tabs and is blatantly obvious, taking the “disguise” out of “robot in disguise.” Like I said, though, that is easily fixed. Just don’t attach it, and you have a great car.

Pictured: the reason every single jackass with a yellow car insists on racing stripes these days.

The robot mode is also great. Bumblebee is one of the smaller toys in this line, since Hasbro is trying to keep everyone in scale with each other, and is loaded with articulation. Almost every part of him’s posable, from his chest to his shin armor. He holds his gun perfectly, and the gun’s made to give the appearance that Bumblebee’s arm transformed into a weapon, much like it does in the movies. I really don’t have any issue here.

Literally the best character Michael Bay ever had.

Transforming Bumblebee is where I had an issue. He takes a lot of fiddling to shift from car to robot and back, and that could be frustrating for some kids. Older kids and adult collectors may not find that frustrating, but keep in mind that transforming Bumblebee into a car can be a pain in the ass. Every single part has to be lined up perfectly to transform him, otherwise, parts of his car mode will pop out. It’s definitely a sign this figure’s meant for collectors.

If you give this to a child, they will break it within 10 minutes and then not stop screaming.

Bumblebee comes with a little figure of a running Sam Witwicky, his human friend in the first three movies, played by Shia LaBeouf. The figure is there. It does not interact with Bumblebee at all. He has no articulation and his face is not detailed. He has no eyes, yet he must see. He has no mouth, yet he must scream.

Shia LaBouf is: THE RUNNING MAN!

All in all, this toy, like the rest of the Studio Series line, is for older kids and collectors. I would absolutely not get this for a younger kid, but would for someone older. He goes for about $20, but keep in mind that he is smaller than other figures in the line at the same price. It’s for a good reason, but that $20 price tag always makes me feel iffy about smaller figures. Anyways, this is JL signing off and wishing you happy toy hunting!

#Transformers #Transformers Studio Series #Studio Series #Bumblebee #Toy #Toys #Toy Review #Reviews

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heyyy-hey-babyyy · 3 years

Text

When We Were Young (Part V)

Dean x Fem!Reader; Sam x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Read part I here ; Read part II here ; Read part III here ;

Read part IV here

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of trauma/abuse, brief moments of self-harm, mentions of anxiety attack, a little dirty (not quite smut, but a bit steamy).

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Y/N grew up together, but when she’s taken away for over 10 years, the boys have no idea what she’s been through. Will asking her to move into the bunker with them reveal more than she’s ready for?

You opened your eyes slowly, panicking when you didn’t realize where you were. Your body went into fight or flight mode, but you breathed in deeply to calm yourself and smelt whiskey, leather, and vanilla. Dean, you thought to yourself smiling and letting out the breath you were holding, when the night returned to you all at once. Every word you confessed to Dean flashed through your memory, like a “previously on...” TV opener.

You told him everything...

Suddenly you felt sick and leaned over his bed afraid you might vomit. Your mind was going a million miles an hour, spiraling again thinking the complete worst. What did he think of you? He must be disgusted by what you did. Horrified and couldn’t wait for you to do the right thing and leave the brothers again.

Your thoughts were propelling you out of bed and into a standing position, swaying back and forth a little with the lack of oxygen to your brain. It was as if your thoughts were completely taking over and your body acted on autopilot. You were to your room with your one bag packed quickly, pulling on a sweatshirt over your shirt and sweat pants, not caring how you presented yourself at the moment. It was almost 1:00pm and you figured you could make it to at least Utah by the end of the day if you sped. The boys had plenty of random vehicles in the garage, they wouldn’t miss one, right?

You were still lost in your thoughts as you rushed down the hallway and into the war room, gripping the cold staircase railing when you heard shuffling behind you. You hadn’t noticed that Sam was sitting at the war room table shuffling through some papers that he quickly hid in a folder when you breezed past him.

“Y/N?” He questioned, taking in your packed bag and your hand on the railing. Your cursed to yourself under your breath, certain that you could have gotten away undetected had you been more clear-headed. Smarter. What kind of hunter were you even? You hadn’t meant it necessarily, but your irrational thoughts were working much faster than your brain was, and you answered your own rhetorical question with a resounding, I’m not one. You hadn’t been a hunter for a long time and it was undeniable the longer you attempted to face your past. And if you weren’t a hunter you were definitely useless to the Winchesters.

Sam had long ago risen to his feet waiting for any kind of motion from you, but he noticed you seemed to be muttering to yourself softly, and it worried him. After confessing to him in the bathroom, Dean had recounted Y/N’s story to his brother, leaving out some of the more private things they spoke about last night. But Sam got the gist of the conversation, and being a researcher first and foremost, was up early printing out pages on trauma survivors, hoping something would help. One of the first articles he was skimming when you rushed in reminded the reader that survivors would try to return to the safety of what they considered “normal,” especially after confiding in a loved one about their trauma. The bag and Y/N’s tense shoulders made sense. She was running from what happened last night and Sam didn’t blame her. It was hard enough keeping Dean relatively calm this morning and convincing him to not run away from what he was feeling. He only hoped you were able to accept Dean and his help.

“Y/N...” Sam repeated, wipeing his palms on his jeans lightly, full of nervous energy. He wasn’t scared of what you might say or do, but he was scared of messing up and pushing you further away. He had to reel you back in a little so that you knew you didn’t have to run away.

You still weren’t looking at him, but stood stiffly on the stairs leading up to the bunker exit. It wouldn’t take more than 12 steps and you could be gone. Just move your feet! But they wouldn’t cooperate, and instead you were completely frozen.

“Y/N, listen.” Sam continued, staring at your back. “You don’t have to run. Dean and I,” you glanced back and saw him looking around for his brother and you wondered the same thing. Was Dean trying to escape you too?

“We’re here for you.” Sam finished, begging you with his eyes to back away from the steps and put your bag down. Ah, you thought to yourself. Dean told him. So both brothers knew your worst moment... Knowing this didn’t make you feel any better, and you felt your stomach tighten again, thinking of the younger Winchester when he was just a kid and how innocent he was. Eyes still full of life and so much energy. He would have hated you, your mind told you harshly. He probably hates you now.

You had to know. You had to see Sam’s face clearly right now and look into his eyes so you could see what he thought. If you felt he held any animosity toward you, you would leave. That was easy enough.

Willing your legs to move, you turned around slowly, bag still held tight in your hand. The corners of Sam’s mouth lifted up a bit when you finally met his eyes, which were a bright grey, almost white from far away. This color always reminded you of clouds and bright sunny days, and you knew instantly that Sam wasn’t angry with you. The thought took your breath away and you launched yourself forward into Sam’s open arms, gripping the back of his shirt tightly, like he was the only thing keeping you afloat. Knowing he wasn’t angry had you feeling every emotion you were trying to repress since you stood up from Dean’s bed. Before you knew it, loud sobs were racking your body and you were attempting to speak at the same time, trying to relay all of your thoughts to Sam.

“I thought you’d hate me, Sam,” you hiccuped out, voice muffled from his flannel. “I killed someone. I can’t ever take that back, and I thought that I would see nothing but hate and anger in your eyes when I finally saw you.” You didn’t slow down, shaking as Sam rubbed both hands up and down your back holding you close while you cried. “Please don’t hate me. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I just couldn’t bear to feel the way I had felt for so long.” You tensed a little, confessing to Sam what was really weighing on your chest making it hard to breath. You didn’t want to hurt Greg, but you didn’t want to be hurt anymore either.

“Shhh.” Sam shushed you quietly, trying to get you to calm down a little so that he could speak. You hiccuped a few more times, eyes red and raw from crying so hard. When your breathing was less jumpy, Sam raised your chin a little so that you were looking into his grey eyes again. “Listen.” He attempted to use Dean’s tone, trying to make you listen intently, and it made you giggle quietly, as he failed to capture the way Dean made people listen. But you continued looking into his eyes, so he knew you were listening.

“The situation you were in... I couldn’t imagine. And I could never judge you for reacting in the way you did. You didn’t have a choice, and I could never be angry with you for protecting yourself at a time when we all should have been protecting you.” Sam hid his eyes from you quickly. Damn these selfless Winchesters, you thought to yourself huffing out a sigh. They would always blame themselves for things completely out of their control. Sam looked into your eyes again and they were a light blue, and you read guilt on his face.

You shook your head in response. “You don’t get to do that Sam. There is nothing you could have done.” Your tone was final, and looking more and more like the little boy that you remember, Sam nodded his head obediently. You nodded back, glad that was decided.

There was a cough from the doorway, and you both spun around laying eyes on a grinning Dean. He must have listened silently to much of your guy’s conversation, and Sam shuffled awkwardly next to you. But you took in the older Winchester, wearing a simple black shirt and the old jean flannel that you loved, staring right back at you, arms crossed leaning against the door frame.

“I’m glad you two got a chance to talk.” He finally spoke out, his voice level and comforting. Sam nudged you gently, and you smirked at him. You saw the smile on Dean’s face fade away when he saw the bag you had dropped by the staircase when you rushed to hug Sam. His younger brother traced his gaze, and cleared his throat, muttering something about more research, rushing out of the room.

Dean turned his gaze to you again questioning. You wouldn’t look directly at him, so he approached you slowly, cautious like his brother had been. You crossed your arms across your chest protectively when he came close to you, and he placed his hands near your elbows, simultaneously grounding you and making you want to run far away from the way he made you feel.

“Baby,” He whispered gently, tone different in the light of the day. “Why would you leave?” You shrugged still refusing to look at him, but he wouldn’t take that as an answer. His eyes narrowed in warning, and you sighed, suprisingly feeling newfound courage after last night.

“I knew you two would hate me after what I told you. I didn’t want to see it on your faces. Especially not yours...” Dean continued to stare at you, and you finally made eye contact, his eyes darkening in a way that was unreadable to you. He opened his mouth a couple times, snapping it closed immediately after, unsure of how to begin this conversation.

“Why would we ever hate you, Y/N?” Though you knew deep down that everything you were thinking and feeling today was irrational, you still scoffed at the question, pulling away from his reach. His hands stayed in the same position they had been resting on your arms, but he snapped them down to his sides after a beat, looking exhausted again. You hated seeing him this way, and you wanted to smooth down the creases that were appearing under his eyes and between his brow. Though you were the one that stepped away, your body urged you back toward him, and you stepped forward, wanting to be near him again. He kept looking at you with the same questioning look, and you couldn’t stand it anymore. The lies and the secrets that continued to weight on your chest. You haven’t breathed normally since you were a silly teenager tailing after Dean Winchester. Perhaps he was the one person who could take you back to that moment. Help you breath normally again.

“I killed someone, Dean.” You spoke quietly, but with conviction, suddenly wanting Dean to know all of you. “And then I just disappeared. Left everything and everyone behind, and started a new life. I was scared, and hurt, and I never, after all these years, dealt with what I did.” You were so close to Dean you could smell the faint smell of his cologne, but he didn’t attempt to hold you in place again. You didn’t know where this conversation was taking you, but you wanted him to understand what was happening in your mind.

“When I ran, all I wanted to do was find you and Sam. I missed you so much.” You felt tears spring to your eyes, and though you didn’t really want to cry in front of Dean, you were trying hard to allow yourself to simply feel your emotions after all of these years. You knew it wasn’t going to happen instantly, but you were attempting to heal yourself. Finally. “All I wanted was you...” You breathed out your final thought, looking directly into Dean’s eyes, which held emotion, but you couldn’t tell which.

“But all I kept thinking was how much you and Sam would hate me for what I did. I mean it was like the first thing John and my dad taught us, ‘saving people, and hunting things.’ Greg wasn’t a monster. He was a person.” Dean finally lifted one of his hands and ran it comfortingly up and down your arm.

“Baby, he was hurting—“ but you cut him off, trying to control the volume of your voice.

“And I didn’t have to kill him!” Tears were rushing down your cheeks now as you thought of Greg’s body lying lifeless in front of you, blank eyes staring up at the ceiling. No matter how much you tried to heal, you couldn’t get that image out of your head.

“And you were only 13, Y/N.” Dean argued back, returning his arms to your shoulders, anchoring you in place. “And you had been taught to arm and protect yourself when there was danger. You are and have always been a hunter.” He let his words hang in the air as you continued to cry, big tears sliding down your face and dripping onto your sweatshirt. You had your arms wrapped tightly around yourself again, protecting yourself from both your emotions and Dean, no matter how irrational it was.

“Come here,” Dean muttered, pulling you close to him, though you didn’t unwrap your arms. He held you tightly as you silently cried, tired of dealing with your emotions for the moment. You realized Dean never answered the question that was bouncing around in your mind.

“Do you hate me, Dean?” You whispered into his chest. You weren’t even sure he heard you, but you felt him take a deep breath preparing himself to say something. Dean waited a beat, enjoying having you close to him before he decided to pull you away and speak what was on his heart.

“Baby, I am so ridiculously in love with you, there is not an inch of room for hate, or judgement, or any of the other fears you have of how I would react to what you told me last night.” Dean didn’t speak fast, making sure each of his words were leveled and that you heard them. And you had, staring at him open mouthed, barely believing the words that were tumbling from his mouth. Even though you heard him loud and clear you asked him to repeat it.

“What did you just say?” He gave you a gentle exasperated look and huffed out a sigh.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since before I even realized what the feeling of love was.” You continued to stare and he rewarded you with a full smile, clearly relieved to confess this to you. He lifted his hand slowly to cup your cheek and wipe away at the tears drying on them. You didn’t know what to say to him, but he didn’t seem to care, only continuing to smile at you.

“You know, I used to skip out on hunts constantly when I knew that you would be hanging out at Bobby’s. I didn’t want you to be alone, but I wanted to be around you more than I wanted to go after monsters. I would’ve chosen ‘hide & seek’ over hunting every time if I could’ve...” He trailed off lost in thinking about the woulda, coulda, shouldas, and the life we could have had.

“You skipped out on hunts?” You questioned, your voice quiet and a little gruff from crying. He nodded looking down at your sheepishly. “You told me John wouldn’t let you go on certain hunts after certain monsters. I figured it was just too dangerous.” Your voice sounded a bit accusatory, and you didn’t mean it that way, but your mind was racing thinking about all the small things Dean did when you were younger that might have been him telling you he loved you.

“Yeah...” Dean ran his hand through his short hair nervously.

“I didn’t want you to know I was choosing to not go. I still wanted you to think I was a badass hunter, but I wanted to spend time with you more.” He looked so cute confessing to you, and you finally smiled thinking about all of the time you had together, getting to know each other, because Dean chose to allow for it. You were so grateful to him in that moment for giving you some of the happiest days of your life.

His hand was still cupping your cheek, and you glanced up at him giving him a real smile, probably the most real smile you’ve used in a long time. Dean noticed and awarded you with one of his own before turning a bit serious.

“Y/N...” He started, looking determined, but nervous, and maybe a little scared. “Can I kiss you?”

You smiled at his question and nodded your head, staring up into forest green eyes.

Dean leaned slowly forward, cupping your cheek with his other hand as well, and placed his lips lightly to yours. You closed your eyes and breathed him in, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours. The rest of Dean was rough and course from years of working, but his lips were ridiculously soft, and you leaned into him deepening the kiss. You felt the rumble of a light groan in Dean’s chest as you pressed against him harder. His hands moved to your waist and yours rested across his shoulders. You felt his tongue dart out against your lips, asking for permission, and you opened your mouth slowly, letting his tongue explore.

You were lost in the kiss when you heard a cough from the doorway. Dean reluctantly broke away turning toward his brother with an annoyed look on his face. You swiped at your lips quickly, trying to compose yourself. Sam looked guilty, but also a little scared and you grabbed onto Dean’s arm to ground yourself.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt.” Sam started with a grimace. “I just got a call from Bobby... Apparently someone was just at his house.”

Dean scoffed next to you and you gripped his arm a bit harder, figuring this had to be going somewhere. “So?” Dean grunted out, anxious for his brother to get to the point.

Sam didn’t waiver under his brother’s annoyance, but rather got more serious.

“Dean... he said someone was looking for Y/N.”

Read part VI here.

When We Were Young Tag List: @woundedxsmile @vicmc624

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #supernatural family #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #sam winchester #dean x reader #spn fanfic #dean x fem!reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fandom #spn famdom

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stusbunker · 3 years

Text

AGA: Word to the Wise

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Denny AU Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte, past Dean/Jo

Other characters: Sam, Bobby, Cas, Mick, Ash, Jo

Word Count: 3000 (whoa)

A/N: Sam gets on Dean’s nerves and Dean ends up taking a late night detour. Big talks ahead.

Special thanks to my beta @cracksinthewalls who puts up with my whiny ass. Also grateful for @there-must-be-a-lock‘s insight.

The bowling league was in lean attendance due to a surprise snowstorm, but that didn’t keep Singers’ Slingers from mopping the floor with their competition. Dean ended on a spare in the last game, putting him just over his average for the night. State bowling wasn’t until spring, but if they kept up their momentum Dean was sure they could place well. And a weekend away would be a welcome break from his usual exhaustion.

Dean still owed Mick a rematch from last year’s trip. Mick drank him under the table and Dean didn’t want to lose two years running, he had a reputation to uphold afterall. Bartending had cut into his training time, among other things.

Ash was the first one to bow out for the night, knowing his side towing business would be busy with vehicles in ditches for however long the storm lasted. Cas bummed a ride with Mick, since his car had never done well in this weather and he was still dragging his feet on upgrading. Dean knew he had been hinting at shopping around, but Dean wasn’t going to push the topic and get dragged into helping or finagling with the salesman for the guy. Cas could figure it out on his own, and Dean was finally in a place where he felt comfortable letting him. Huh.

Sam had been quiet all night, but Dean hadn’t mentioned it, attributing the sour mood to post-break up blues. They bought Bobby his weekly drink, “team dues” as he called it and settled in along the bar.

Dean kept the conversation going, trying to keep the mood light, but Bobby was too tired to ham it up and Sam was not amused by his brother’s antics. Once Bobby polished off his last beer and headed home to Ellen, Dean was rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Fine, you know what, I’ll reel it in, don’t want to interrupt your sulking,” Dean muttered after another joke fell flat. Sam winced at Dean’s jab, which Dean instantly regretted. Though it did seem to shake Sam out of his funk, if minutely.

“So, tell me about Benny,” Sam brought up with elephantine grace.

Dean stared at Sam like he proclaimed he was quitting the law firm and joining the circus, coulrophobia and all.

Sam huffed. “What?”

“Nice segue there, counselor,” Dean grumbled. “What about him? Hmm, you want a new bowling bag? Because that was already on my list for you for Christmas.”

“Dude, you don’t have to do that. I mean, that’d be great, but no, I was kind of wondering what your deal was? Like do you hang out a lot?” Sam started fishing.

“Yeah, totally, everynight,” Dean deadpanned. “I mean I only work two jobs when I’m not moving your sorry ass back into Mom and Dad’s.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam said, waiting to figure out where he was going with this line of questioning and just shot in the dark.

“What I’m trying to say is, is this, like, a Cas thing?” Sam choked out, unable to put it any more delicately.

Dean burned with shame as his hackles raised in defensiveness. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sam cocked his head and pursed his lips, unamused and unimpressed. “You know what I mean, man. Don’t make me spell it out.”

Dean wouldn’t budge, he dropped his beer with a thud. “Well, you’re gonna have to, because I have no fuckin’ idea what you’re talking about.”

“Dude!” Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“The fuck is your problem? You got something to say, just say it, Sam.” Dean fumed, daring him with a murderous glare. Sam inhaled pregnantly, face still inching towards bitch mode. Sam eyed the bartender who was trying not to listen and the late game bowlers who suddenly decided they could catch up lane side instead.

What Dean didn’t realize was that he needed Sam to say it. He yearned for it, for his truth to be spoken, and known without him having to say it himself.

“Look, I know this isn’t something we talk about. But, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Alright? In the beginning with Cas, it was like you were obsessed, man. And since he just always seemed to need something from you. I just want to make sure you’re not getting used, I guess,” Sam unraveled the heart of his concern without saying too much, which Dean was not expecting, at all.

Dumbfounded, Dean retreated, annoyance trumping any chance at relief.

“I think I can handle myself, thanks,” Dean spat. Petulantly, he took a sip from his beer, the cold glass solid in his hand, giving him something to clutch or even throw, if it came down to it.

“I didn’t say---,” Sam broke off. “Fine! You know what? You’re on your own. Just remember that I should have listened to you about Ruby and now I’m paying the price for my own stubbornness.”

Sam stood and reached for his money clip, tossing an extra five on the bar for the dramatics. He gave Dean one last chance to come clean, to own up to what they weren’t saying. Dean stared straight ahead, eyes unfocusing on the liquor labels behind the bar as if Sam had already left. So he did, just as he came: pissed and questioning his brother’s motives.

Dean didn’t go home after that. Instead he absently followed a plow down the main road until he happened upon a familiar turn off. Which he took slow and steady until it ended in a T. The little brick ranch at the end of the lane held a lot of memories. And it was more inviting than ever with its Christmas card perfection in the falling snow. Dean put the Impala in park and let the radio play, wishing he had a joint just for the sake of something to do.

He wasn’t there ten minutes before his phone rang, which he answered without processing the caller ID.

“You gonna come in or you just gonna sit out there feeling sorry for yourself?” Jo’s voice sliced across the line.

“Didn’t know if you were still up,” Dean bullshitted.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say. Backdoor’s open,” her unimpressed reply. She hung up before Dean could make up an excuse to leave. He slouched out of the car and trudged down the long country driveway. As soon as he had stomped the snow off his boots, Jo welcomed him in with a firm hug and an appraising glint in her eye.

“Thanks, it’s a real mess out there,” Dean explained.

Jo just shook her head at him. “How’d ya bowl?”

“619 series, finished strong in the last few frames,” Dean answered. “Were you at your folks?”

“Nah, just know it’s Wednesday night, which means the boys were at the alley,” Jo smirked as she reached atop her fridge for the good stuff.

She held up the whiskey in offering and Dean nodded, bending out of his coat. He slipped it over the back of a chair and settled in at the vintage kitchen table. She poured him a glass and watched as he inhaled the first round like he had been outside for hours and needed to fight off a much deeper chill.

“Well alright,” Jo resigned herself to playing shrink and poured Dean another drink. “So, what’s got you stuck in your head, hm?”

Dean weighed his head from side to side as he let the whiskey roll over his tongue. He never got far into a pouting session when Jo was around, but he also didn’t know which chamber of his heart he could stand to prop open for her inspection tonight.

“How’ve you been, Jo? You still schooling those truckers on taking care of their own rigs?” Dean sidestepped with ease.

“You know it,” Jo confirmed. “Not a day goes by that I don’t have to put another asshole in his place. Pays good, though.”

Jo had followed in Bobby’s footsteps and became a mechanic, but two Singers were already one too many for the shop and salvage yard. So she took her skills out to the interstate and made a name for herself as the only female diesel technician in four counties. Dean used to hate it when she would fix something faster than him, but it had been more than a decade since her skills had made him feel inferior. Dean knew Jo’d be his boss someday, but he wasn’t too worried about those far off futures; Bobby wouldn’t retire unless Ellen made him or killed him first.

“How’s Rufus holding up?” Jo teased, knowing her dad’s old friend was getting worse for the wear, much like John had.

“Stubborn, and as glib as ever. Good thing your dad rehired him, because he’s a bit too mouthy for most customers,” Dean admitted.

Jo hummed with nostalgia. “I gotta swing by and bug you guys sometime, but it just keeps getting busier.”

Dean sighed. “I hear that. What’s it been? Labor day? No. I haven’t even seen you since the Fourth. Christ!”

“Yeah, well, you’ll see me next week for Thanksgiving, don’t get too sentimental about it now,” Jo quipped. She took a short sip off the bottle as Dean swirled the last of his second helping.

“I’m seeing someone,” Dean staggered the words, like he wasn’t sure if their meanings and sounds fit together.

Jo sighed dramatically, “Finally, the truth is revealed! What’s up? She’s not pregnant, is she?”

“No.” Dean had to bite back his guffaw. “Definitely not.”

“Okay, then why the sad face? Not pulling a Ruby on ya, I hope?” Jo tested the waters.

“No, it’s--uh--- it’s been good. Really good. I just, kind of need to make up my mind if I’m in it for the long haul. Ya know?” Dean clarified, relaxing with each little confession.

“Uh-oh it’s getting serious,” Jo mock whispered.

Dean rolled his shoulders. “No, well, it could be. I don’t know.”

Jo giggled. “I can’t believe you! You’re fucking twitterpated, aren’t you?!”

“Jo, if you start making Thumper jokes, I’m shutting up right now,” Dean warned with a pointed finger. “Care to top me off while you’re at it?”

“Okay, okay, gosh.” Jo rolled her eyes dramatically as she poured him another drink before pointedly putting it back on the fridge. “But you’re in deep. You’re all blushy about it.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m ready to go big. It just means they’re willing to put up with me until I say the word,” Dean tried to downplay his feelings and Benny’s confession.

“So do it! Bust out the grand gestures already,” Jo encouraged.

Dean scoffed, “I’m not built for commitment, you know that!”

“Except you kinda are! You’ve changed, Dean,” Jo insisted, head hung to pour her honesty from her eyes. “I don’t know when it happened, but you’re not that reckless boy that I knew. You’ve always been a good guy, but now?---- Maybe it’s been since Sam came home, I don’t know. But somewhere along the way you grew up.---- It’s okay to let yourself want something more, you know.”

Dean grumbled and rolled his neck, breaking the eye contact. She always could do this to him, just like her mother, see straight through his every defense. “I always thought it’d be you, you know?”

Jo smiled without teeth. “Firsts can do that to people. But, we’re not those kids anymore, Dean. So, if you’re asking for my permission or seeking my approval---?”

Dean dropped his head to his hands, thick fingers poorly hiding him from Jo. “It’s a guy, Jo. I’m--- I don’t know--- Bi? I guess?”

“Dean?” Jo waited until he stopped being sheepish and looked at her, even if it was only out of the corner of one eye. “You’ve been head over heels for Cas for years. If you dare tell me this is about him, so help me, I will throw you out right now.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh ruefully at that and toss back what was left of his whiskey. “You saw that, huh?”

She didn’t answer, waiting for him to work through it on his own.

“It’s not Cas.” Dean smacked his lips and held up his glass for a refill. Jo stood and brought the bottle back to the table. Dean poured himself three fingers worth and pondered the sloshing liquid before he continued. “Your mom know?”

Jo licked her lips, cocked her head, and sighed.

Dean closed his eyes and asked, “Bobby? Fuck!--- my mom?!”

“No one has ever said it out loud, Dean. I don’t know who knows, honestly. But we’re family, that doesn’t change.” Jo grasped his wrist firmly, he held her hand to his and then she slapped her other one on top. Time stopped long enough for Dean to accept that his secret was finally out, but also that it was safe.

“I can’t believe I’m talking about this with you, of all people.” Dean thumbed her knuckles, staring into eyes he knew as well as his own.

“Really? Who else would you be talking to about it? Sam? Ash, maybe?” Jo giggled. “I’m honored, actually. It means you stopped hating me.”

Dean pulled his hands away and took another drink. “I never hated you.”

“Okay, well, maybe it means you stopped hating yourself,” Jo corrected.

Dean’s brows crooked incredulously.

“Too much?” Jo asked apologetically.

Dean shook his head and sighed. “You are your mother’s daughter.”

“Now you’re the one being rude,” Jo muttered before taking a solid drink off the bottle this time.

Dean let himself relax, let the whiskey and conversation work into his muscles and set his worries aside. They talked like the old days and about the old days. Those in between years after high school and before anyone was ready to face responsibility. When half their friends went to college, they had just kept on working. After another hour, Jo leaned back in her chair and started scrutinizing him once again.

“You know how I know you’re happy with what’s his name?” Jo teased.

“Beh--- I didn’t tell you, fuck! Benny, his name is Benny. Goddamnit Joanna Beth,” Dean cursed through a chuckle; more details dragged out of him than he had planned on.

Jo cocked her head and considered the name.“Benny, right. You wanna know how I know?” Jo pushed.

“Fine, how?” Dean held up his hand, beckoning for her to hit him with her response.

“Because this is about the time of night you start giving me the lazy once over. But not tonight,” Jo proclaimed, chin out condescendingly. She had him, every few years they’d find themselves back in each other’s beds, for a night or a weekend and then they’d move on. He always thought of her as his home, his starting point. But maybe they weren’t the same thing at all.

“You still look good, Jo,” Dean replied, trying to save face.

“That’s not what I meant, Dean. Besides, I know!” Jo snarked, straightening her spine and tossing her hair over her shoulder. Dean couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore and it spilled out over a toothy grin, making Jo almost choke on her drink. God, Dean felt like anything was possible. That life was good.

After the hysterics had calmed down, Dean exhaled. “Thanks, Jo. I needed this.”

“You sure did, nobody else was gonna hand you your ass so kindly,” Jo agreed, standing and taking the bottle and Dean’s glass with her to the counter that held the sink. He whined comically, but knew her timing was right. She leaned back and smirked.

Dean grew quiet and Jo waited to see if it was exhaustion, the alcohol or something else. She didn’t have long to prepare.

“How’m I gonna tell my dad?” Dean asked, the pain and panic pulling at his face until she saw the telltale tears well up.

“Fuck ‘im. I mean it, if your dad can’t get his head out of his ass to see how happy you are, he isn’t worth your time,” Jo said adamantly.

Dean let his thoughts roll to the side of his head and licked his lips, biting against the tremor. He quickly wiped away the tears that escaped and inhaled wet and ragged. Jo slipped to his side and ran her hand through his hair, letting his face fall against her chest as he breathed through the onslaught. Dean couldn’t help but think how motherly the affection felt.

She pulled back to look him over at arms’ length.

“So what now? You want the couch? Or should I call you a ride? I’m sure Sam owes you one,” Jo asked, as no nonsense as ever.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean dismissed her concern, rubbing up his face to wipe off his nose.

“Well, you ain't driving.” Jo held up his keys. Dean blanched, feeling his pockets for them, fruitlessly. He stood to snatch them, but she had already skipped across the kitchen, too far to catch. “Nuh-uh, no way I’m letting you risk your baby. Or your thick skull in this weather.”

Dean put his hands on his hips, and blinked through the dizziness. He realized he hadn’t stood in a few hours. “Sam.”

“What’s that?” Jo prodded mischievously, ear leaning in as if she couldn’t hear him.

“Very funny. Call Sam, will ya?” Dean rolled his eyes as she scrolled through her contacts, murmuring the names under her breath. His keys were raised in victory, as if he couldn’t reach them above her head. He could have snagged them in an instant, if he wanted to.

While Jo woke Sam, Dean checked his own phone. Ignoring some texts from his mom and Cas, he selected the conversation with Benny. There were no new messages since that morning. Dean hesitated before relocking his screen.

“Sam’ll be here in twenty. You want something to eat? I’ve got chips.” Jo offered, opening the cupboard.

Tagging: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @fookinghelljensensthighs @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @wingedcatninja @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @crashdevlin @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary @itmighthavebeenintentional @thoughtslikeaminefield @there-must-be-a-lock @tatted-trina6 @cracksinthewalls @atc74

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Tell me what you thought?

Part 10: Spit it Out

#A Gentlemen's Agreement #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #dean/benny #dean x benny #bi!dean #coming out #aga: word to the wise #dean winchester/benny lafitte #dean/jo #sam's trying he really is #stubborn dean

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pixelgrotto · 3 years

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Night City, I barely remember ya

I beat Cyberpunk 2077 last month, and honestly, I haven’t thought about Cyberpunk 2077 that much since.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. CD Projekt Red’s follow-up to The Witcher 3 was meant to be the sort of game that would stick in your mind after completion. It was promoted over eight years of hype stemming from its initial 2013 reveal as a example of CD Projekt’s infamous “vodka and Slavic magic” - a behemoth destined to change open world RPGs forever. But in the roughly 12 weeks since its release, the stuff that’s happened to Cyberpunk 2077, including its delisting from the Playstation store for being chock full of bugs and the theft of its source code by hackers, has been more cyberpunk than the actual game.

I was one of those people super hyped for this game when it was first announced. I mean, the Witcher franchise left an indelible impression on me; how could I not be psyched to see its devs tackle one of my favorite sci-fi genres? But my hype deflated over the years, largely due to tales of terrible crunch emerging from CD Projekt’s studios and social media marketing that was ill-advised at best and transphobic at worst. Everything seemed to slowly hint that the game’s vision of “cyberpunk” - a genre that can tell incredible futuristic tales of social upheaval and marginalized peoples - would be mostly style with not so much substance.

Despite me keeping my fingers crossed, the end product is pretty much what I feared - and I guess I should’ve known, since the official sourcebook for Cyberpunk 2020, the tabletop RPG that CD Projekt Red used as inspiration, actually lists “style over substance” as one of its rules.

Cyberpunk 2077’s main story revolves around a merc who dreams of big time heists in Night City named V. After a heist goes south, V ends up absorbing a biochip made by big bad corporation Arasaka that features the captured personality of rockstar-turned-terrorist Johnny Silverhand, played by Keanu Reeves - who, to be fair, does a good job with the material he’s given. Cue a bunch of quests that revolve around V and Johnny coming to terms with each other, taking down Arasaka and figuring out how to separate the chip from V’s brain.

In theory, this sounds like a cool way to explore the very cyberpunk themes of identity and what it means to have a corrupt company preserve a human soul beyond its organic shell. In reality, though, the story’s a surface level examination of these concepts, and Johnny Silverhand remains a massive dick throughout most of the game, only becoming relatable if players give him the benefit of the doubt - which they’re expected to do because he’s played by Keanu Reeves.

Johnny’s animosity towards Arasaka is also never completely outlined. He - and most other characters in Night City - keep telling V that corporations are awful because they disregard human rights and destroy the environment, but we never get many chances to see for ourselves how Arasaka and similar companies, like Militech or Kang Tao, actually do this. Arasaka does kidnap Johnny’s ex-girlfriend and is behind the tech that transfers his soul to a biochip, yes, but Johnny also threatens to destroy them at all of his shows and eventually sets off a bomb in their headquarters. Not that I’m siding with the corporation, but for much of the game we’re expected to treat them as the number one enemy simply because other characters say so, which is very much a “show, don’t tell” missed opportunity. If anything, Arasaka’s portrayal feels more like a vestige of the cyberpunk genre’s unfortunate maturation during the 1980s, where the fear of Japanese conglomerates taking over the world was common and a future where Asian companies were all-powerful instead of Western ones seemed like a dystopia.

Cyberpunk 2077 is very much caught in that yesteryear mold, featuring elements that might have been progressive in the 1980s but seem passé now. For a game that relied on questionable representation of trans people in its marketing, there were no notable trans NPCs that I came across, and even though there’s a robust character creation system where you actually can make a trans person, the game makes the troubling decision to only offer binary pronouns tied to V’s voice. Despite the fact that many of the best modern cyperbunk works deal with body augmentation and the line between man and machine, most of the physical modifications you can pay for at Night City’s “ripperdoc” facilities are niche features that only offer minimal stat boosts, with only two major ones that I know of - the mantis blades and gorilla arms - actually causing extensive changes to V’s looks. And finally, while there are tons of characters of color in the game, ranging from the Haitian Voodoo Boys gang to V’s “friendly ethnic friend™” Jackie Welles, most of them are varying degrees of stereotypical. For instance, Goro Takemura, an ex-Arasaka employee, sends you text messages reminiscent of haiku at one point because he’s Japanese and has to talk like a formal, honorable samurai or something.

If you’re able to look past these issues - along with the myriad of bugs that Cyberpunk 2077 shipped with - there’s still the niggling feeling that this game could have been so much more. The signs of a troubled development process are numerous, and there are Reddit threads packed with still-visible remnants - like useless combat skill perks and an entire metro system - that were part of gameplay elements gutted at some point in order for those overworked CD Projekt Red programmers to make a long-delayed release date. Even mainstay stuff in the open world genre - like the police chases common in the Grand Theft Autos - are absent, and Cyberpunk 2077’s 2018 demo, chock full of promised features that never made it into the final product, has to be one of the most notorious bits of smoke ‘n mirrors “gameplay” in recent memory.

Perhaps most bothersome is the feeling that a lot of your choices don’t seem to matter all that much in Cyberpunk 2077, which once touted itself as “a full-fledged RPG, not a shooter with RPG elements,” but ends up feeling more like the latter than the former. The game’s three different lifepaths - nomad, streetkid and corpo - only amount to about thirty minutes of unique playtime at the start and a few different dialogue options. The vehicle combat sequences that punctuate key missions are largely scripted, looking cool but offering little consequences depending on what V aims at. The side quests I encountered had minimal branching paths, and the only time the main story opened up to offer some real choice was in the game’s final chapter. Considering that CD Projekt once developed The Witcher 2 - a 2011 game that branches dramatically at its halfway mark to the point where a lot of folks insist that you need to play it twice in order to feel satisfied - Cyberpunk 2077 feels like a step back.

And yet, despite all of these criticisms, I still put nearly 80 hours into the game over the course of December, January and February. You don’t do that for something that’s patently unfun, so let me be clear - there is an entertaining experience buried beneath an avalanche of unfulfilled potential here. Driving on my Akira-esque bike through Night City’s slums as the game’s best song bumped on the radio, taking out legions of baddies with my mantis blades and relishing in the game’s extensive photo mode (as you can probably tell by my screenshots above) was a good time. In spite of his assholery, I did feel something akin to attachment for that bastard Johnny Silverhand by the finale, and there were a few key moments - like when I was scuba diving in the ocean with my girlfriend Judy, looking at the remains of a town destroyed by the land seizing machinations of corporations - that felt like this game had something to say beyond “bang bang gunplay and neon aesthetic.”

But at the end of the day, while I do feel moderately interested in someday checking out Cyberpunk Red (the newest iteration of this franchise’s tabletop RPG), CD Projekt’s seven-year-hyped-up behemoth has largely faded from my brain one month after beating it. On Twitter, I’ve seen Cyberpunk 2077 described as something akin to a flashy Netflix series with lots of fanfare and flair but not much else - and I can’t really argue with that statement.

Night City was supposed to be the stuff of a long-term relationship. Instead, it feels more like a fling.

#pixel grotto #now playing #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk #cd projekt red

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name-me-regret · 3 years

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If The World Was Ending 11/?

If The World Was Ending Chapter Eleven: Waking Up Slow

Read on AO3.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“Heaven help me My mind changes like the wind Please excuse me I don't know where to begin

But I didn't think I cared I could be your friend But I'm unprepared Oh, I've never felt like this

I was unaware That you were lighting flares Now I'm running scared Oh, how did it come to this?...”

~Waking Up Slow (Piano version) - Gabrielle Aplin

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

‘BUCK!’

Buck lifted his head and saw Christopher, he was barely hanging onto a cement light post as the water ripped at him like dark, reaching hands.

‘CHRIS!’ he shouted as he tried to swim toward him, before he was dragged under. But it didn’t matter how much he kicked his legs and moved his arms, he couldn’t get any closer.

‘HELP, BUCK!’

The water pulled at Chris and his little fingers were slipping and Buck felt desperation start to fill his chest when nothing he did could get him to the little boy. ‘PLEASE!’ he sobbed, seeing Chris’s frightened face as he reached one small hand toward him.

Then the water rushed forward and ripped him from reach and from view.

“NO!” Bucked screamed as he shot up in bed, eyes flying open. He searched the dark room, but he was alone in his loft. His chest was heaving, feeling his heart racing in his chest, but there was no water and he knew Chris was safe. Even so, he wanted to reach for his phone and call Eddie, since he knew he was home right now.

The only thing that stopped him was that it was his first day off after a 48-hour shift, and Eddie needed to rest. Hell, Buck had had Chris during that first 24-hours before Carla had come back to stay with him for the other day. Buck would have honestly been more than happy to take care of him both days, but Eddie had insisted that it was Carla’s job and that Buck didn’t have a job anymore so he couldn’t keep wasting money taking him out.

Buck knew Eddie hadn’t meant it maliciously, but the words stung more than he was willingly to admit, to be reminded that he was no longer a firefighter. Also, Buck wasn’t worried about money, since he kept getting his worker’s comp checks, and his savings consisted of all the money his grandparents had left him. They hadn’t agreed with their parents way of raising him and Maddie, especially how they’d cut her off when she’d married Doug. So, they’d cut them out of their wills and left it all to Buck and Maddie.

They’d been furious.

As for Buck, he didn’t care about the money. All her ever cared about was for his parents’s love and acceptance. He’d never gotten it.

Buck knew he was too keyed up to try going back to sleep, so he decided to take a shower to wash off the sweat. As he was coming out, his phone playing his Mellow playlist, it cut off in the middle of the James Bay song he was listening to. He immediately answered when he saw that it was Tony.

“So, you’re still alive?” Buck asked, a relieved grin on his face despite himself. His hair was still damp, and he’d yanked on some sweats and a t-shirt. The blonde man let himself fall on his bed, cell phone still against his ear. It had been two days since Tony had left, and he’d only received a single text from the man since then.

“Yeah... bruised and bettered, but still alive,” Tony groaned on the other end. There was shuffling on his end, followed by a clanking and then he heard JARVIS voice clearly stating that he needed someone else to stitch his wound.

“You’re trying to stitch your own wound?” Buck asked incredulously. “Don’t you have a tower with a medical floor?” He sat up now, worried for Tony and his apparent idiocy. And Buck thought he was a dumbass.

Tony fumbled with something as he grumbled. “I didn’t call to get lectured, Ev.”

Buck nodded with a sigh, running a hand down his tired face. He hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep in the last two days, mostly because of nightmares. While the ladder truck bombing had given him his share of nightmares, the tsunami and losing Chris during the natural disaster was something worse. So, he was feeling a bit irritable at the moment.

“Then why did you call then?” He didn’t want Tony to think all he’d do was nag at him, as if he was his... well, his boyfriend or something. That had ended a while ago. “I can exactly help you stitch your wound with you being all the way in New York.”

Tony was quiet for a few seconds. “Well, I’m not exactly in New York,” he admitted at last. He heaved his own sigh and did something that gave a sort of ripping sound, and then hissed as Buck heard a smack. “I’m right outside L.A. in a SHIELD safe house.”

“And there’s no one there to help you?” Buck asked, already starting to stand up. He looked for his wallet and the keys to the rental the insurance company had given him, since his Jeep was a total loss and were in the process of getting a estimate and issuing him a check. He had insisted on getting his Jeep back, for sentimental reasons and it didn’t matter if they didn’t give him a check. Buck didn’t want a new vehicle, wanted to fix up his Jeep.

“I’m not exactly supposed to be here,” Tony admitted. He kicked at something on his end. “By the looks of things, no one’s been here in months.”

“Where are you?” Evan asked as he climbed down to the ground level and out of his building.

“What? Why?” He paused and listened, obviously having heard him get in his car and start the engine. “No, Ev, I’m fine. You don’t have to come here.”

“J, are you there? Send Tony’s location to my phone.”

‘Yes, Mr. Buckley, sending it now.’

“JARVIS, you traitor! I will donate you to a community college!” Tony snapped with no real heat in his voice. If anything, he sounded more tired than angry.

“I’m on my way, you idiot,” Buck laughed. He heard Tony curse, but he didn’t tell him to stay away. Buck took that as a win.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

The house wasn’t much to look at, and ‘a shack’ would be a better description for it. Buck didn’t see the armor, but figured it was inside with Tony. He didn’t even bother to knock and entered through the door, which Tony had probably left unlocked for him. It could also be because he didn’t expect anyone to come attack him, so whatever had caused his injury had probably been taken care of. If not, Tony wouldn’t have allowed JARVIS to give Buck his location.

“Tony?”

“In the kitchen,” he heard the man call.

A few moments later he entered what could maybe be called a kitchen. The table looked like anything more than the first aid kit resting on it would make it collapse, so did the two chairs that were the only thing in the room. It didn’t look like it had been stepped in for ages, judging by the dust over everything, the grimy stove and the refrigerator that was probably from the eighties, possibly the seventies. There was likely no food inside, and the sink and the faucets of it were rusted, so there was possibly no water.

Buck moved over and soon he was standing over Tony, who was sitting in one of the rickety chairs. He had a black eye that was almost swollen shut, several cuts and bruises all over his face and exposed torso, since he was shirtless. Tony also had a bandage taped against his left side, just out of where he could comfortably reach, and it was quickly being stained by blood. “You’re fine, huh?”

Tony scowled up at him past his rapidly swelling eye, and the armor silently standing behind him in sentry mode showed the dent on the face plate where he’d been hit. “I am,” he insisted. He indicated the bandage. “I managed to tape it up.”

“And JARVIS thinks you need stitches,” he said, removing his light jacket and hanging it on the other chair. “Turn this way,” he instructed as he pulled the chair with his jacket closer. He had to sit close to be able to examine the wound, and he shook his head when he pulled the bloody bandage off. “I’m a firefighter, not a paramedic, and even I know this needs stitches.”

“Well, take a crack at it, if you want,” Tony told him petulantly. He didn’t seem to happy with being seen like that, but he’d seen Evan like that so he didn’t know what his problem was. In fact, he’d been worse, but then again, he’d been eighteen at the time, almost nineteen. So, he guessed it was different.

Buck shook his head and yanked the first aid kit closer, which he’d obviously been trying to use by the blood smeared on the side of it. “I’d normally leave you to your stupidity, but then JARVIS would be upset,” he snarked back.

Of course, he wouldn’t actually do it, since he’d come all this way to help him. Buck cared about Tony, even when he was being snappish. They were both quiet as he worked, Buck having slipped on some gloves, and Tony grunted in pain when the needle first pierced the skin, but then his only response afterwards was a few flinches or his shoulders twitching for the next six stitches. “All done,” he said, cleaning the excess blood and tossing it all in the trash can Tony had obviously dragged closer. There wasn’t even a bag inside of it.

“Thanks,” Tony finally said after a moment of silence. His face was tired and Buck wondered how much sleep he’d gotten since the two days he’d seen him. The bags under his eyes told that it had likely not been much, so he probably felt as bad as Buck did.

“Are you staying here?” Buck asked, looking around distastefully at the grime and dust that covered every surface. He was sure the rest of the... structure was just as bad, or worse. At least it was only one floor, since he was quite sure anything higher might have collapsed by now. Then again, if it belonged to a secret spy organization, then it was probably reinforced to keep it standing. Buck wasn’t too keen on testing that theory out.

“I can’t really fly without fixing the helmet,” he said. Buck took that to mean that it was damaged enough that he might not be able to even use it. “I’ll have... Pepper send me the jet.”

“Or I could take you home,” Buck blurted out, not really thinking on what he was saying.

“I.. do have a penthouse in LA,” Tony mused out loud. Then he quickly shook his head. “No, never mind, I think it was damaged in the tsunami.”

“I meant take you to my apartment,” Buck clarified. He was amused as Tony’s gaze snapped up in shock toward him. “It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” He tried to keep the smirk off his face as he saw Tony’s face start to get a bit red. Buck hadn’t even know it was possible to make Tony Stark blush.

“I don’t... want to be a burden,” Tony said, almost stuttering. Buck was enjoying this way too much. “I don’t really have a change of clothes.”

Buck shrugged as he leaned forward, seeing Tony’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously. “You can just borrow some of mine,” he said, making a show of checking his bandage, but he wanted to tease him a little. He’d always enjoyed flexing his flirting skills, and there was no one better for that than Mr. Tony “smooth-talking-charm-anyone” Stark. Then again, Tony had been Maddie’s friend since they were 14 and 16 respectively, Buck having been 10 at the time. It was the year before he started at MIT, and three years before his parent’s automobile accident.

He’d been a mess back then, alcohol and drugs and between Maddie and his friend Rhodes they’d helped him the best way they could. As for Buck, he had met Tony briefly but not entirely, and during that time he’d been thirteen. They hadn’t properly met until he was 16 (almost 17) and Tony had been 20, at a charity event that Charles Buckley actually donated to. Buck was convinced that it was just to keep up appearances, but it had benefited Buck that he could finally meet Maddie’s friend, Tony Stark.

Buck had been smitten almost immediately but Tony had refused the young man’s advances until he was actually 18. By then Buck had long known he was bisexual and knew exactly what and who he wanted, and he had wanted Tony. It was cliche that on his eighteenth birthday they’d finally fallen into bed together, but that’s what had happened, almost like a fairytale if one was being extra sappy and cheesy.

Then Charles Buckley had found out eight months into their relationship, and Buck had ended it to spare himself from his father’s bigoted, homophobic rage. He’d moved to LA a month after he turned nineteen.

Now here he had him once again and all those feelings he’d never gotten over were returning with a vengeance, despite his feelings for Eddie. He’d been hiding them well, hiding himself out of fear still, but it became harder now with Tony here. Because while he wasn’t sure that Tony had ever loved him, Buck was sure the man had been his first love, and you never got over your first love.

“Come home with me,” he told him, fingers coming to rest on his knee.

Tony’s eyes moved to the hand on his knee before they lifted to meet his eyes. “Yea-”

The sound of the front door being kicked in made them both freeze, and the armor turned as the repulsors charged with a whine. Buck stood and faced the open doorway even as Tony hissed at him to get back. There was no way he’d do that, not with Tony being injured.

They both tensed as an imposing figure entered their line of sight, a very familiar shield in front of them. “Tony?” he asked in confusion.

“Rogers,” Tony sighed as he slumped back in his chair. He winced a moment later and Buck wanted to immediately check the stitches, but he hadn’t moved from his position, which was between Tony and this man. “It’s alright, he’s a... not a threat.”

Buck’s eyes narrowed on the man, trying to place him, and definitely not trusting him in the slightest. “Why’re you kicking in the door?” Buck asked him as his eyes not once leaving him as he walked further inside the kitchen.

“Because this is a SHIELD safe house and someone broke into it,” he said, as if that explained that all. “I work with SHIELD.”

Buck opened his mouth to respond, not sure why this man got his hackles up, but paused as Tony’s hand touched his elbow. He glanced at the man, scoffed and backed off, physically and metaphorically as he sat in the rickety chair once again. “I’m surprised there’s even security system for this shack,” Tony told the man. He seemed to know him, whoever he was.

“It’s a low frequency alarm, which is why we only got here,” a woman said as she walked in after the man. Buck hadn’t even heard her come in she was so quiet. “I’m surprise you didn’t realize there was an alarm.”

Tony grunted as he put on his shirt carefully. “I didn’t really check,” he admitted. “I was preoccupied with other things.” He stood. “We’ll be leaving now.”

“You’re hurt?” the man asked, brow furrowed. “Do you need assistance?” He’d stepped forward and his blue eyes narrowed as Buck tensed and half rose out of his seat.

“He’s fine, I took care of him,” he said.

The man, Rogers as Tony had called him, frowned. “And you are?”

Tony opened his mouth, but Buck cut him off. “Buck,” he said, holding a hand to him. And even as he smiled at him, there was no warmth in the expression. “A firefighter with LAFD.”

Rogers hesitated a moment, seeming to stiffen at the mention of his name. He eventually took his hand, grip firm as he shook it. “Steve Rogers. That’s an interesting name.”

Buck shrugged as he released his hand and tipped his head at the woman, who hadn’t bothered to introduce herself. Except, she really didn’t have to now that Buck new the man’s name. He was Captain America and that must mean she was Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow, who had wandered closer to Tony to check him over. Tony just waved her off. “It’s actually Evan Buckley, but everyone just calls me Buck.”

Tony stood as well now. “Well, not that this hasn’t been swell,” he snarked, “but I’m eager to get into Ev’s bed.”

Rogers sputtered and Tony only grinned and didn’t correct what he must be thinking. He moved past them all, and Buck nodded as he also left the room. The suit, being controlled by JARVIS, followed right behind. As they exited the shack, he saw the jet parked close by, a dark shadow in the gloom.

Tony had already slipped into the passenger seat and Buck wasted no time in getting into the car as well. “So, did I just meet Captain America and the Black Widow, or did I imagine that?”

“No,” Tony huffed a laugh, “you didn’t.”

Buck nodded as he started his car. “And did you just make those same people think we were about to have sex?”

Tony smirked and Buck laughed as he shifted the car into drive and headed back toward the city. “You’re terrible.”

“I try my best,” Tony quipped back.-

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itsuki-minamy · 4 years

Text

“K - SIX IDOLS”

CHAPTER 1: “SPRINT DREAM” (Complete)

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen."

"Good Morning!"

A pure voice echoes through the Kendo hall of "Promotion Scepter 4".

Many remains of that remain, in the office that was created with the remodeling of the old Army facilities. The Kendo hall is one of them, and the idols belonging to "Scepter 4" sometimes take lessons there and other times hold their swords in their hands.

And at the beginning of the week, there was always an instruction from the president, the "Idol Blue King", Reisi Munakata.

Munakata makes a soft voice in front of the idols lined up in a "rest" position.

"By the way, this week is the biggest event of the year for my production, "Sprint". The "Dream Live Tour" will take place. I hope to have the encouragement of each member so that no preparation or lesson is neglected."

"Yes!"

The responses of the idols are not disturbed. More than an entertainment bureau, the closer rigor to the police or the military was due to the nature of representative Reisi Munakata, and it was also a feature of "Promotion Scepter 4".

The group's glasses glowed brightly, staring at an idol.

"But recently, I have received some concerns, Andy Domyoji-kun. Go ahead."

"Yes!"

Domyoji, who was called by name, screamed to death. From his normally cheerful face, blood is drawn in the blink of an eye.

Domyoji took a heavy step and stepped out in front of the superior.

There is no anger in Munakata's expression. A slight smile floats on the sleek face like a statue. That doesn't mean that Domyoji and the other idols were relieved that they didn't understand the superior.

It was a man named Reisi Munakata, who sentenced to death with a smile.

"Domyoji-kun. The other day, there was a report that you were 5 minutes and 27 seconds late for the entire "Gyumetai" lesson. Is this true?"

"Actually, that's…"

"What is an idol in "Promotion Scepter 4"?"

"Ah, idols aim to be the ideal humans who should become the norm for people..."

"Do you have your own excuse for being late, knowing that?"

"No, I'm sorry..."

Domyoji is drooling. It was like a prosecution and a defendant, but in this case it was a military trial rather than an ordinary court. The sentence is already decided from the beginning, and this exchange is only a ritual.

Munakata acts like he's convinced of something,

"Ok. Let's ask Domyoji-kun to do one of the highlights of the "Sprint Dream Live Tour", "Extreme solo part, Idol from above 6500~”."

"What?"

With a strange voice, Domyoji's expression was frozen in despair. Munakata smiles and touches his shoulder intimately.

"As you know, "Extreme Solo Part" is one of the most popular projects on "Countdown Dissolution, Shoumutai". This time it's a solo part while skydiving from an altitude of 2,000 meters, so his brave figure will be a great copy on the big screen."

"President, please! That's! Just forgive me!"

"What do you say? This is your chance to get more fans. And if you're at the mercy of your life, you won't be late for lessons."

Munakata treats Domyoji, who clings to his eyes, with a smiling smile. The idols are silently staring at the horrible sight.

"Kindness is called haste. Let's start the special training today. Akiyama-kun, Benzai-kun, please take him to the office to complete the procedure."

"Yes!"

The same members of the "Shoumutai", Himori Akiyama and Yujiro Benzai, grabbed Domyoji crying from both sides. Domyoji screams while ruffling his hair.

"Not! I don't like the "Extreme solo part"! Akiyama, Benzai, I am a posterity, so don't miss out!"

"Hold on, Domyoji."

"Oh. Get angry and train. Hopefully you won't die."

Domyoji was dragged out of the Kendo room.

When the door closed, Munakata saw the idols lined up. All the idols looked at Munakata with a better attitude than before.

Munakata says, looking at him with satisfaction.

"Don't be late either. As members of society and as idols who should be a human norm, please respect that."

"Yes!"

The voice of the idols who responded contained a desperate sound.

++++++++++

"Sorry, President! I can't make it on time!"

The driver's scream also contains a desperate sound.

As he listened to him in the backseat, Munakata gracefully reassembled his legs, put his hand to his jaw, and muttered, "Hmm."

"Sprint Dream Live Tour", first day, 4:52 pm.

Munakata's transport vehicle got caught in heavy traffic filling the road and got stuck at all.

Until the day before, Munakata was planning a large-scale live concert in London as part of the overseas expansion of "Promotion Scepter 4". The big picture and charisma of Reisi Munakata, the "Idol King", managed to shake up the stubborn management of the French entertainment world. A few hours ago he won a partnership and a contract in the EU and returned triumphantly to Narita airport.

From the transport vehicle, Munakata continued to instruct the "Sprint Dream Live Tour". Back home. Although he has a difficult schedule of immediate events, he does not have fatigue or mistakes. There was a figure like: the perfect idol king.

It was in the time after Sakura's exchange that the news of the accident and jamming arrived.

Fortunately, no one died, but traffic was completely paralyzed. A line of cars continues towards the horizon, and it takes 30 minutes to finally reach 100 meters. Literally, he was forced into a state of immobility.

If nothing is done, the big event that is approaching a few hours later, will expose the mistake that the "Idol King" will be late.

In such a critical situation, however, there was no impatience in Reisi Munakata's expression.

"Ok."

Munakata says cheerfully to the driver reflected in the rearview mirror.

"I understand the situation. Please, I'll get off at the next intersection."

"But it will take 30 minutes to get there and, according to traffic information, the situation is similar on the lower road."

"It doesn't matter. In the meantime, let's get ready."

Munakata took his PDA out of his pocket and made a call. Munakata's trusted deputy director responded with two calls. It's Awashima Seri.

"Where is he now, President?"

"Currently, we are targeting a four-way interchange. It will take about 30 minutes to get there. I am planning to get out of here."

"That is…"

Awashima groaned. Even if he can get off the four road interchange, it will take more than an hour from there to the location, regardless of the mode of transportation. Since the show started at 6:30 pm, arrival on time is desperate.

After a few seconds of silence, Awashima's voice regained its composure.

"I would like to review the song list. The current program is to start with the president's number at the same time the performance begins, but we will correct this to start from "Shoumutai" and put the president's turn as far back as possible."

"Rejected."

Munakata categorically blocked her.

“Changing the song list will cut the rhythm of the fans. As idols, we shouldn't give fans any kind of anxiety."

"However! If this continues…!"

"I will be on time."

"......"

Awashima lost the words.

He was not surprised by Munakata's recklessness. She knows more than anyone what kind of person Munakata is and what kind of idol he is. He's never the type to talk about the impossible and break the plan.

If Reisi Munakata says that he can do it, he certainly can do it even if all other humans can't.

The next time Awashima opened her mouth, there was a determined intention.

"So, President. Please give us instructions."

A satisfied smile reached Munakata's mouth.

And 30 minutes later.

As soon as all contacts were completed, the transport vehicle passed the toll booth.

The lower street was still full of cars. Since Munakata hated traffic, he analyzed the situation. Progress is not much different from high speed.

However, that is no longer relevant to Munakata.

Because this is the end of the transport vehicle.

When he got out of the vehicle, the driver's seat window was opened. The driver looks from there and says...

"President, I wish you good luck."

Munakata smiled calmly at the young driver.

"Yes. Please drive carefully and come back."

That said, the next moment, Munakata was on the run.

With a forward leaning sprint style, Munakata is steadily increasing in speed. He reached a row of cars that couldn't move like a tombstone, and finally couldn't see his back.

Even after that, the conductor continued to pour his longing eyes beyond the horizon where Munakata disappeared. Holding on his chest the driver's cap that he took off as a sign of respect.

++++++++++

That day, Kazumasa Hatanaka (19) was driving his favorite Hara Chari.

He is in an unprecedented mood because he was able to finish his work early. The construction company he works for has been working hard these days, but yesterday they calmed down and was able to pay him. Hatanaka, who worked especially hard, was allowed to return home as the president had a special plan that day.

Akemi Hatanaka (18), a heavy wife, waits at home. Just thinking about it will loosen the origin of Hatanaka. When he wondered if he could serve his beloved wife and a child he had yet to see, his tired body mysteriously strengthened.

(Oh, that's right. Should I contact her to get back to Akemi soon?)

Suddenly, Hatanaka took out his mobile phone while driving the Hara Chari. He tries to send a message to his wife using one hand to handle and one hand to write.

Was when…

"You…"

"Oh?"

Hatanaka was about to fall due to the noise surrounding his ears. The body, which was about to slalom, was held by an outstretched hand and returned to its original trajectory.

While running to Hatanaka's side, the bespectacled man yells in a soft voice.

"It is a violation of the Road Traffic Law to use a mobile phone while driving."

"Uh, oh, sorry."

“In addition, it has already exceeded the legal speed of motorized bicycles. Wear your helmet correctly. It is meant to protect your life."

"Ah, hey, uh, yeah, sorry."

Hatanaka, who was once feared for being a "Chitaka mad dog", simply admitted his guilt not because he understood the accuracy of the words of the man with the glasses. This is because he was upset and scared by Hara Chari's run and the appearance of a man running side by side on only his own feet.

The man with the glasses smiled at Hatanaka's stunned face.

"Okay. If you follow the law and try to drive safely, you won't make driving mistakes like you do now."

(No, no, I'm going to be mad now because you called me. Do you want them to tell you that driving safely is something like running at that speed?)

The word never left Hatanaka's mouth at last. The man with the glasses raised his hand slightly and said, "Excuse me, bye." and then sped up and disappeared from Hatanaka's sight.

Hatanaka was stunned as he slowed the Hara Chari to 30 km / h.

(Is that so? I wonder if the god of the road advised me...)

There is a yellow light ahead. It stopped at the stop line correctly where it would normally cut, and the director took control.

(From now on, I will drive safely.)

++++++++++

That day, Nami Sakai (6) looked at the giant tree with tears in her eyes.

A blue balloon is stuck in a tree branch. It was in the hands of Nami just a few minutes ago, and in the hands of her beloved grandmother ten minutes ago.

Nami felt like a treasure when she received the blue balloon from her grandmother's wrinkled hand. She would take it home, about 10 minutes on foot, and she rushed to show it to her mother, but she accidentally fell off.

The balloon, which was detached from Nami's hand, floated in the sky and was blown away by the wind. She got trapped in a giant tree.

The giant tree has a height of about 10 meters. The blue balloon got caught near the top. Even if she asked the adults who passed by to take it, they just laughed and shook their heads.

Can't she get it again?

Every time she thought about it, she was filled with regret, sadness and guilt, and it turned into tears and appeared in Nami's eyes.

When the tears were about to break, Nami suddenly noticed something approaching from a distant road.

(Eh?)

In her childhood thoughts, Nami makes such a judgment.

In fact, in the distance it was like a colored wind. If she thinks it were there, it is way ahead. Nami stared at the blue breeze, which flowed without shaking her side, for a while, forgetting her sadness.

Suddenly…

With that wind, the eyes met.

The moment she thought that, he was already in front of her. When he stopped, the wind was not the wind, but a grown man with glasses. The skin is white like a woman and the facial features are beautifully groomed.

For some embarrassed reason, Nami looked down at her toes. The voice of a kind man spills over her.

"Do you have any problem?"

Nami looks at the man.

When she looked into the eyes behind the glasses, she felt like she was being sucked into the deep sky.

Nami opens her mouth to be fascinated.

"I cannot do it."

The man looks at the balloon at the point. Nami looked away and turned down. She was sure this person couldn't do it, and like everyone else, he would laugh and say "Give up", she felt such disappointment in her small chest.

But the man said in a nonsensical tone.

"Please wait a bit."

The man was already kicking the ground when she turned her face away.

He clings to the trunk of the huge tree and climbs up when he's ready. He deftly found the dents and bumps that could be called a steps, and in the blink of an eye he reached the top and took the blue balloon in his hand.

Nami was looking at the man who came down the same way, her mouth hanging open.

"Here it is."

Although he offered her the balloon, she was unable to receive it for a time. Then, finally picking it up, she asked with all her courage.

"Oni-chan... what?"

If you translate those boring words into something that makes more sense, it would mean something like "That move was out of the ordinary, who are you?"

The man accurately grasped the meaning of the question, smiled a little,

"I am an idol."

He responded like this.

Nami didn't really understand what an "idol" was. She blinks and look at the man. With a smile on his face, the man reached into his pocket and handed Nami a card.

"If you grow a little, come see us live."

The words "Promotion Scepter 4, President Reisi Munakata" were written there.

Of course, Nami can't read the card. She doesn’t even know about the existence of a business card. However, she thought the blue-tinted card was beautiful. Blue was Nami's favorite color.

Nami finally remembered what she should say to the man who gave her something nice and got back what she wanted back.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome. Well, I'm going."

The man bowed, turned blue again, and ran down the road.

Nami won't forget him forever.

++++++++++

An hour after the start of "Sprint Dream Live", the heat in the Tsubakimon Dome was visibly increasing. At the same time as the entrance began, a group of fans flowed into the audience seats like a flood, and they began to furnish the place with posters, posters and items with each of the recommended men drawn. At the same time, fans are excited about the upcoming festival and are looking at the stage with shining eyes.

To meet that expectation, a scene similar to a battlefield was unfolding in the backyard of the stage.

"The president has arrived at Shikaido Station! We will move on to Sequence B!"

"The target has been set at point B! We will wait until the president picks it up!"

In the temporary monitor room with the sign "Headquarters for the execution of the president's return plan", a part of the backyard, reports were constantly being raised.

The purpose of this headquarters is to fully support the return of Munakata. The staff involved are elite to make the "return plan" successful, from organizing and contacting various locations, managing the schedule, passing on traffic information and understanding Munakata's current position.

In one of the compounds in the panel, his current position is always displayed by the Munakata PDA tracking system. Awashima asks the staff while looking at them with a tight gaze.

"What is the progress of the plan?"

"It is 2 minutes and 15 seconds late, but it is within expectations. Currently, the Sequence C execution unit is moving. We will get to Point C on time."

"So…"

Awashima occupies a small area and looks at the monitor.

The plan is going well. At this rate, he can be in time for the opening ceremony, even if it's at the last minute. Unless something unexpected happens.

"Deputy Director Awashima."

Awashima looks around in a loose voice, rolling her shoulders.

Fushimi Saruhiko was as if he was leaning against the monitor room door.

He is the star idol of "Promotion Scepter 4", which is the center of the popular "Shoumutai" unit. Many fans were fascinated by the lonely atmosphere, and about 30% of the customers who packed the dome today are looking for him.

Awashima opens her mouth as she calmly looks at Fushimi.

"Fushimi. You should be in the final stages of doing a "Dream Corps."

"If the president is late, there won't be any 'Shoumutai', right?"

Awashima's beautiful eyebrows drew a dangerous angle.

“The plan is on the right track. You do not have to worry about that."

Fushimi laughs. It was an annoying laugh.

"Isn't there a countermeasure in case we run out of the star? Do you really think he can pull it off?"

"What do you mean?"

Fushimi casually pulled his hand out of his pocket and tossed what he was holding to Awashima. Awashima takes it deftly.

It is a recording medium in the form of a micro card.

"If you don't, I will. I made a new list of songs. If the president is late, I will."

Awashima's expression becomes more and more pronounced in a throwing tone. She squeezes the recording medium and she says quietly.

"Do you think I will receive this?"

"If you don't need it, you can throw it away. I can't bear to expose ourselves to that person's mistakes."

Awashima quickly waved her arm and threw the recording medium back.

"President…"

Fushimi deftly accepts that which came back like a bullet. Awashima, looking at the stagnant eyes behind the glasses as if shooting.

"I will not make any mistakes."

"Sorry."

Fushimi shrugged slightly and went back to his place. Looking back at Awashima over his neck.

"Well, tell me if you need it."

With that alone, Fushimi left the monitor room.

Awashima stared at the monitor room door for a while, staring into his eyes. It's like doing it is a protest against Fushimi.

It's not that she doesn’t understand what Fushimi is saying.

Believing is different from believing blindly. Fushimi's view that he assumes the worst and take countermeasures is entirely correct.

However, Awashima did not receive that song list. She refused to even see it and turned around.

She felt that receiving it would be a distrust of Munakata, who had confirmed that he would be on time.

"The president has reached point C! Collection complete!"

"We have started to move! The plan is going well!"

Awashima muttered unknowingly, listening to the reports that came in one after another.

"President, be careful."

Those words were like a prayer.

++++++++++

That day, Yuri Yamazaki (26) was vaguely in front of Shikaido station.

She works in a product store managed directly by "Promotion Scepter 4". It was supposed to be closed today due to the shift, but she got an urgent call from her boss about 5 minutes ago. She had no particular plan, and she was quick to get to this point because she was drawn to a pretty good vacation assignment.

Anyway, Yuri thinks.

It was a strange call. Being with the bicycle in front of the station instead of the store.

Apparently, they told her to lend the bike to someone, but they did not tell him who to lend it to and only told her the time of the meeting. It would be profitable to get a vacation allowance on this alone, but Yuri checks her cell phone while deeply thinking that she would complain if she was forced to do something else.

Seeing the displayed time, she sighed.

The "Sprint Dream Live Tour" will begin soon. Like most idol shop clerks, she is a fan of “Promotion Scepter 4.” She decided to work at an idol shop because she loved idols.

However, just because she is an employee doesn't mean there are benefits. Controls in that area are tight, and the clerk who secretly secured her own live ticket was sometimes ill. She must take the ticket herself, and if the lottery is lost, the schedule may disappear from the vacation she got, just like the current situation.

Two minutes have passed since the specified time.

"I wonder... if he's late, can I contact him?"

She doesn’t know, the murmur leaks out. After 5 minutes, she will contact the store manager. Thinking of that, she suddenly looked up.

And she doubts her eyes.

Someone was running from the street in front of the station, at tremendous speed. He easily overtook the next bike and came closer. Yuri instinctively tried to back away.

However, when she saw the man's face, she doubted her sanity.

"Ah, President?"

What she unwittingly said was the nickname of Reisi Munakata, the representative of "Promotion Scepter 4" and "Idol King". Naturally, it spread from the case where the idols under his command called him "President."

Faced with the stiff lily, Munakata strode over to a halt. He exhales a little and smiles at Yuri.

"Excuse me, are you a store clerk?"

"Eh, yes!"

Her voice shook. Feel the blood of her entire body concentrate on her face. The reason is that Yuri Yamazaki's favorite idol is Reisi Munakata.

Half in panic, she yells out the questions that come to mind.

"But why are you here?! What happened to the 'Sprint Dream Live Tour'?"

"I'm having a little problem and I've taken a different route than normal. Don't worry, I'll be in time for the opening."

She felt as if the blood that had risen through her head was coming down this time.

In other words, it is an emergency. Yuri was a fan and she knew how confusing it would be to be late for the opening ceremony. Perplexity, pain, disappointment. Just imagining being there, the pain felt like its own.

Yuri rushes up and says.

"Is there anything I can do?!"

“Lend me the bicycle. It's enough."

Yuri blushed again. If she thinks about it again, it was probably all part of the plan coming here. It is not a feat for the Munakata representative to give instructions to the directly administered office.

"Please..."

"Thank you."

Munakata straddled the bike without showing any pretense of noticing Yuri's tension. Somehow, it was an unattainable sight. The King of Idols, who can only be seen on TV or on stage, sits astride her bike.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going."

"Oh, yeah!"

Yuri instinctively stopped Munakata who was trying to get out.

Munakata looks at Yuri with his foot on the pedal. She held her breath with a mysterious look.

("Please sign.")

She had to desperately suppress that desire that came to her mind. Hasn’t she just found out it's an emergency? There is no second chance. And yet, unable to say such a silly request, that embarrassment forced Yuri's awkward smile and false words.

"Please do your best. I support you!"

Munakata, however, was looking at Yuri's face with calm eyes that looked through all her smile and strength. Munakata laughed lightly at Yuri, who suddenly became flustered and reached into her pocket.

"What should I write?"

"Eh?"

"I have a pen, but I don't really have colored paper. It's not in good taste with a notepad."

Yuri blinked many times. The feeling of regret, even the time she was wandering and wondering why him could see through her desires made her stiff.

Yuri handed him the PDA she was holding in her outstretched hand to Munakata. With her voice asking "Is it okay here?", she was fascinated by the magically moving pen. She picked up the PDA again, looking at the Munakata signature written there, and it was like a soliloquy.

"Why...?"

"I am an idol."

Munakata's response, as well as their relationship, was open and frozen.

"Idols live up to the expectations of their fans. My job is to capture your expectations."

"......"

"Good luck then. Thank you for your continued support."

With a courteous greeting, Munakata pedaled off the road in no time.

Yuri holds her PDA to her chest while watching him back. She murmured in an emotional voice, promising to turn it into a relic, and she was about to buy a new one.

"President, I will follow you for the rest of my life!"

++++++++++

That day, Yojiro Sato (51) was driving his own high-speed boat and racing in Tokyo Bay.

His main business was fisherman, but he also works as a fishing boat captain as a side job. In any case, the main job is to chase the school of fish, current high-speed boats are used for that purpose.

But today's work was different than usual.

The client was a fishing cooperative and the content of the request was mysterious: "Anyway, I want you to go to Chiba city using a high speed boat." He goes through it several times, but it seems the reason he couldn't get the point was because the fishing cooperative was asked to go further.

Sato accepted it simply because the reward was great. Otherwise, it would not accept suspicious requests.

However, when he passed by the Tokyo Bay Aqualine, he began to regret it.

He doesn't think it's a dangerous story.

It goes without saying that Tokyo is one of the largest cities in the world and Tokyo Bay is a large adjacent port. Many are trying to carry out illegal transactions by sea. Unfortunately, he has heard stories of people involved in such problems at the level of rumors.

He's been through the fishing cooperative, so he doesn't think it's something to worry about.

Even so, a bit of anxiety washed over Sato's mind.

At that moment the radio sounded. When he reached out his hand and responded by reflex, he heard an unfamiliar voice on the back of the radio.

"Hello. Is this Mr. Yojiro Sato?"

It was a feminine and intelligent voice. Sato responds while confused.

"Oh, yeah. That's right."

"Nice to meet you, my name is Seri Awashima. I was the one who made the request."

"Oh, I see."

The confusion disappeared, but Sato pressed his face into place. Listen to Awashima's words, eager to decline the request in the event of an emergency.

"First of all, I apologize for reporting uncertain content to you in the application. I was in a hurry, so I thought about explaining after taking the first step."

"Okay, but what kind of job is this after all? It doesn't appear to be a fishing request."

"Yes. I want you to pick up a certain person."

When suspicion and vigilance increase, he raises his eyebrow. Sato asked in a low voice.

"Who is that? He is not a criminal, right?"

"What, criminal?"

From the other side of the meeting, he could feel the sign that Awashima was completely disappointed. The voice that echoed next seemed to lack a bit of calm, unlike before.

"Incorrect! The president is not involved in such things!"

"Oh, yeah."

At the angry response, Awashima coughed a little.

"No, sorry. It may be inevitable that it looks like this. I would like you to pick up Reisi Munakata, the representative idol of "Promotion Scepter 4"."

While driving, Sato is confused.

"Why do idols want to get on our ship?"

“As I said before, it is an urgent matter. He didn't seem to be in time for a regular water taxi, so I contacted you."

"Hmm... Well, it's okay."

Sato is not familiar with idols. He is simply not interested. From time to time he sees them on television, but to him they all have similar faces and clothes, so he cannot tell them apart.

That sect image is probably one of those idols. No wonder that is used instead of a taxi, but, work is work.

"So where should I pick him up?"

"Please wait a moment. I'll link the information on the president's location to that PDA."

"Eh?"

A second after the stupid voice leaked out, a spot of light lit up on the GPS map attached to the ship. Sato opens his mouth and looks at it moving at high speed on the map.

“Did you get the location? The point that lights up in blue is the current position of the president."

"Yes, I got it."

"Good. Get closer to the point of light. It also shows the next meeting points."

The GPS map reacts again and projects an orange spot of light. It shows a jetty near the beach park, that made Sato panic even more.

"Wait a minute! How did you do that? This is my PDA, right? Why can you operate it on that side?"

"There is no time to lose! I took emergency measures! Rest assured that we have formal permission to use the system!"

"What is that system?"

To Sato's confusion, Awashima doesn't reply. "More than that!" When he started yelling, the blue point of light on the map continued to flash.

“He is approaching the meeting point. Thanks for your cooperation. Awashima, over and out."

And the radio was unilaterally cut off, leaving only Sato who was confused.

The ship curves and begins to move parallel to the shore. Sato alternately compared the map and the coast. If this location is correct, Munakata will soon be in sight.

"Ah."

With that said, he opened his mouth. Someone was there. That's probably definitely Munakata.

From a distance, he can only tell that he is a man. It would have been indistinguishable on its own, but the appearance of a human who could ride a bicycle at a speed comparable to that of a high-speed boat fits this unusual situation perfectly.

"What should I do?"

Sato is a man of the sea. He is confident that he can handle most things that happen at sea. However, he had never imagined such a situation. Sato looked towards the beach while maintaining his speed.

At that moment, Munakata pointed forward.

Sato looks ahead so he can catch it. A jetty leading off the shore blocked the ship's path as it gently curved.

Reflecting a sailor, Sato curves the speedboat along the jetty.

Munakata's bike has picked up speed.

"Hey, it can't be!"

Unknowingly, Sato was screaming. Because he understood the man's thoughts. Because he understood the meaning of "meeting point" that Awashima said on the radio.

The bicycle races down the jetty at a speed that exceeds that of high-speed boats. Sato made the boat's engine run at full speed. It was not because he understood their speculations, but because he thought that, as a man of the sea, he would not be able to stand upright if he was driving a boat and losing to a bicycle.

The bicycle and the speed boat run next to each other for a very short distance.

For the first time, Sato saw Munakata's face.

Munakata was smiling with a clean face in front of him. It was not the expression of a human reaching such high speed on a bicycle. He was horrified. Perhaps this is a monster that seemed to drag him to the bottom of the sea. Even such an imagination took over his head.

Munakata's bicycle leaned over. At the end of the jetty, Sato's high-speed boat drew closer and Munakata jumped with the bicycle with only the spring from his body.

Sato opened his eyes and looked at the figure of Munakata leaping against the sun.

After a short break, Munakata's bicycle landed on the back of the high-speed boat, made a sharp turn, and came to a stop.

"Fu..."

With a sigh, Munakata wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

"......"

Sato was just looking at Munakata, who was behaving like a human, with his mouth open.

When he got out and parked at the bicycle rack, Munakata looked at Sato and said with a smile.

"Nice to meet you. Sato Yojiro-san. My name is Reisi Munakata. Thank you for your transportation to the planned location."

Swallowing hard, Sato asks suspiciously.

"You are a human?"

After opening his eyes somewhat surprisingly, he replied with a bitter smile.

"I'm just an idol."

++++++++++

At the Suzugaya sorting yard, Domyoji Andy (19) turned his pale face down and swallowed nausea.

He, who is scheduled to appear on "Sprint Dream Live Tour", is at that location because the Suzugaya courtyard is a helicopter landing site owned by "Scepter 4."

The event titled "Extreme Solo Part, Idol from Above 6500~", is Domyoji's assigned role this time. The event of strumming a guitar solo while skydiving from 2000 meters above the sky is sure to be a great thrill if it succeeds, but it can only be said that it is insane.

For today, Domyoji was repeating a special training every day. In total, it would have fallen enough to reach the surface from the stratosphere. Domyoji said that if he ran for Guinness, he would not pass, and gave a tired smile.

At that moment the door to the waiting room was opened and the staff entered.

"Domyoji-san, please prepare for take-off!"

"Eh?"

His eyes are round. Domyoji looks at the watch as it is. There is still some time left before the live begins. The turn of "Shoumutai", including Domyoji, was supposed to be in the second half of the opening ceremony.

"Is it still early? Was there an accident?"

Anyway, when he got up and left the room with the staff, Domyoji was so quiet. He doesn’t know what kind of problems are waiting in the live presentation. Not only staff but also idols need to take this into account and respond flexibly.

"There is no change to Domyoji-san's appearance time! We are going to pick up the president from now on!"

Domyoji opened his mouth. The staff didn't look back and pushed the door in front of them while walking quickly.

At the landing site, the helicopter was already preparing for takeoff. The high-speed rotating main rotor disperses a roar like a gunshot. Defeating the sound, Domyoji yelled at the back of the staff.

"What happened to the president? That person is surely the interpreter for the opening ceremony!"

“Currently, the president is crossing Tokyo Bay! We'll pick him up at sea and head straight to the Tsubakimon Dome!"

Domyoji is confused. He is crossing Tokyo Bay? He has no idea what the hell is going on. What he knows is that he is about to fly high again.

After sitting on the seat and fixing his body with a harness, Domyoji finally noticed.

"Hey! Don't I need it if I pick up the president?!"

"It's the president's judgment that it's a waste of time to go back every time! After leaving the president in the dome, Domyoji-san will wait in the sky until the time of the "Extreme solo part, Idol from above 6500~”!"

That was brilliant. Wait a minute, he try to tell if he would be flying all the time, but then his body was fixed. Jumping out the rear hatch, the staff gave Domyoji a big thumb up.

"Thank you good luck!"

The hatch closes as he continues. The sound of the rotor increases the pitch. Domyoji's stunned face disappeared into the darkness of the plane.

++++++++++

"The President has arrived at meeting point E! The pickup helicopter that was already waiting has started to approach!"

"Let go of the rope, the helicopter must be very careful!"

"Got it! Let go of the rope! Try to drive safely!"

Brilliant laughter erupted in the monitor room as the pilot made a joke. Private language during the operation should be strictly prohibited, but Awashima felt a slight smile on her lips. This would indicate their high morale. She doesn’t have to worry.

"President, I secured a rope! Start climbing."

"Domyoji, can't you point the CCD camera at the president?"

"Oh, yeah, I'll try."

Domyoji hastily responded to Awashima's voice. After a while, a rough image appears on one of the monitors.

Munakata was about to board the helicopter. Standing in the open hatch, he turns and pays him homage. A high speed boat floating ahead, probably Yojiro Sato, a man who appeared to be the captain took off his hat and waved it.

The expression of the image has been softened.

"President. Thank you for being safe."

On the CCD camera, he sees Munakata smiling.

“Thank you for your hard work, Awashima-kun. Did you worry?"

Awashima shakes her head slowly.

"I wasn't worried."

It was a lie. During these 30 minutes, Awashima has looked at the clock no less than 50 times. It's not because she doesn’t trust Munakata. It is probably due to the weakness of Awashima's heart.

Munakata's deep eyes can even see Awashima's inner heart. Still, she looked directly at her boss and reported on the situation.

"We are on time. If you move at full speed from the current location of the president, it will be enough to reach the inauguration. The president's suit has been brought to the room of the occupant of the helicopter."

"Okay. Let's finish all the preparations on the fly. Has the final landing point I submitted changed?"

"No, there are no changes. The helipad is already in control."

At that moment, one of the monitors lit up red and emitted a warning sound.

"What?"

"I will confirm it!"

Staff operate the console quickly. Awashima holds her breath and stares at the movement.

Finally, the staff raised a strained voice.

“There was a fire at the Tsubakimon Dome Hotel! Looks like an evacuation notice has been issued at the hotel!"

"No!"

“No recommendations have been issued for this place! Deputy Chief, what do we do?"

Impatience melts in her hand. Various thoughts come to mind instantly. How big is the fire? How to accept evacuees? Should the concert be canceled, even if no recommendations have been made? The enthusiasm of the people involved and the fans for this live show is extraordinary. But if something happens to the fans, it is irreparable.

An intelligent voice broke those thoughts.

"Awashima-kun. Confirm the evacuation of the hotel guests."

Raise her face. Beyond the CCD camera, Munakata's rough expression was as calm as if he were sitting at his usual office desk.

Awashima looks at the staff. The personnel turned to the front and quickly returned to operating the console.

Finally, he told the staff in a shocked voice.

"We share the confirmation of the status of the place, but the evacuation of the three guests has not been completed! It seems that we are reconfirming the people who have been in the air and have been evacuated!"

"Three people. That means they are…"

The CCD camera points in the other direction. Seeing that, Awashima took a breath.

Near the window on the smokeless floor. A man and a woman are crouched in a narrow space. The woman appeared to be holding a child.

"The number of people matches. Apparently, the evacuation was delayed."

Awashima looks at the image from the CCD camera. Imagine a tragic future for a family left behind at the scene of the fire and blood gushes from their faces.

And Munakata said of course.

"I am heading to the rescue."

Awashima knew that Munakata would say so. Knowing that, she still screams...

"President! Don't do it!"

Domyoji's camera captures Munakata's face. Munakata wasn't looking there. He murmured, looking serious at the scene of the fire, perhaps putting together another thought.

"Awashima-kun. About us?"

"Ah..."

The answer to that was fixed. Awashima squeezed her hand so tightly that her nails dug into her palm.

"We are... idols...!"

"What kind of person is an idol in "Promotion Scepter 4"?"

"Our goal is to be the ideal human who should be a role model for people."

Munakata looked at Awashima with a teacher's gaze, watching over the poor students who gave the correct answer.

"So that's it."

"Huh!"

Munakata goes to the scene of the fire. Although he is an idol, he is only a human. There is no guarantee that he will be able to return safely, so the worst consequences may await him in the future.

And, while looking at the worst, taking steps to prevent it from happening is also a condition of being an ideal human.

Awashima said that decisively when she took a little breath, exhaled and was ready to do it.

“We will contact the various parties involved in the handling of this incident and request assistance in rescue activities. I pray for your safety, President."

Behind the camera, Munakata nodded slightly.

Fushimi Saruhiko clicked his tongue as he leaned his back against the wall.

If Munakata's decision was stupid, Awashima, who followed him, could only be seen as a fool. He are an ideal person and he are trying to ruin his job by getting caught up in an additional idea. Fushimi's frank opinion is that, it is the role of rescuers to help the victims, and that is why they have to get rid of that work.

But he will never reveal it. At least not yet.

It only deals with possible situations.

Makes a call from his PDA. The other party came out with a ringing sound. Before they say something to him there, speak up.

“Akiyama, I got a job. Call the members of the 'Shoumutai'."

While saying that, Fushimi turned away from the wall and quickly headed to the end of the hall.

++++++++++

That day, Maki Arakawa (29) was visiting the Tsubakimon Dome hotel with her husband Takashi Arakawa (32) and their son Daichi Arakawa (0).

That day was Maki and Takashi's third wedding anniversary. The Dome Hotel was the place where Takashi proposed to Maki, and it was customary for the couple to visit this place on their anniversary every year.

With a new family member who is less than a year old, Maki and Takashi huddled together and wanted a night view from the living room. Takashi leans into the champagne and Maki leans into the non-alcoholic sparkling wine, looking at each other with a smile. In Maki's arms, Daichi, who had just fallen asleep, was giving a silent sigh.

A little compliment to a family that usually leads a modest life. Still, Maki was happy enough until the explosion happened.

The moment the explosion caught her, Maki was thrown to the ground with her husband.

When she woke up, her head was covered in black smoke.

"Daichi?"

The first thing that came to mind was the safety of her son. Looking down into her arms with a pale feeling, Daichi was still asleep. It was just a moment of relief, and he was soon filled with smoke-colored anxiety.

"What the hell?"

There was no way to answer that question. Her husband has wandered off a bit. He appears passed out, bleeding from his head. When she saw him, she was terrified that his heart would stop, but at least he seemed to be breathing.

Maki crawls closer to her husband, feeling pain glowing throughout her body. There seems to be a fire somewhere between the black smoke that comes in and the heat that burns the skin. That fact irritated Maki and made her reach out her hand.

"Get up."

The husband does not respond. Maki raised her face slightly and looked around her.

There is no one but them.

Is it after everyone has evacuated? Have they been left behind? Even if she gets lost, she does not know where to go and cannot leave her husband. It was decided that she cannot take him or her son on her own.

Fear and anxiety clench Maki's throat.

She takes the PDA out of her pocket and touches the emergency number. However, Maki herself wasn't sure how much it meant. The fear that surrounds her is getting stronger. Even if the rescue team is dispatched from now on, will they arrive in time?

"Yes, what happened?"

Communication has been opened. Maki squeezes the words out of her throat that moisten her body.

“Please help, please help. Please, please."

Unless this child is saved.

The moment he muttered a sentence-like word in a weak voice, a roar deafened Maki's ear.

A helicopter appeared outside the living room, behind a glass window.

A high-speed rotating rotor disperses a bombardment sound and the strong wind moves in the opposite direction. The helicopter tilted slightly and a sliding door pointed into the living room. Maki saw with wide eyes that a man with glasses was standing in the place that had already been opened.

It was not a rescue team. She knew it at a glance. After all, clothes are different. She had never heard of a rescue team dressed in such white, flowing clothing. It has beautiful bright colors and is like the clothes that idols wear.

The man with the glasses laughs smartly when he sees Maki. Then jump out the sliding door with a run.

"......"

Maki loses her words and watches over the elaborate suicide scene. From the PDA that fell to the ground, a Fire Service official said, "What happened? Please respond!" She heard a scream, but couldn't react. That was not the case.

The man crossed his arms, jumped high and rough, through the window, rolled across the living room floor, and landed brilliantly.

He balanced on his right foot, left knee, and right palm, and lifts his face to look at Maki.

Then he said with a smile.

"Hello."

"Ah, hello."

Barely responding, the man approached slowly, keeping low.

Behind him, there was a figure that jumped in the same way. He rolls on a glass covered floor, jumps and screams.

"Gak! The glass stabs me!"

“Domyoji-kun, continue with the preparations immediately. Be careful not to inhale smoke."

"Yes! President Munakata!"

When the man named Munakata approached Maki, he lifted his body, turned it forward, and began to wrap something.

"Oh, that...?"

“We will get away from this. Please hold your son firmly."

The soft voice in her ear soothed Maki's fear. She hugged her son tightly and, through her armpits, Munakata fixed a harness on Maki's body.

Munakata looks back and calls out to Domyoji, who is also wrapping the husband in a harness.

"Are you ready?"

"Well, somehow!"

Domyoji nods wrapping her weakly passed out husband around his body with a harness. When Munakata turned around, he turned his smart eyes towards Maki.

"Don't worry, I'll get you to safety immediately."

Somehow, however, she had an unpleasant sensation.

Maki looks out the window with her harness wrapped up. She sees the back of a helicopter that was going very far away. Maki asks, swallowing hard.

"Isn't that the one you ride?"

"Unfortunately, the emergency exit leading to the helipad is blocked by fire. Landing is difficult and jumping from here to the helicopter would not be possible with you in tow."

The question of what to do then did not need to be asked.

Munakata walks over to the broken window while tying Maki and Daichi to himself. The trampled piece of glass rings. A strong wind from the high sky blew and caressed Maki's cheeks forcefully.

The Tsubakimon Dome can be seen below. She wonders if he was doing some kind of live performance, and she could see the crowded seats even from such a high place.

Munakata looks at her calmly and has a soft voice.

"And we have less than five minutes to get started. This is the only way to get there on time."

She is not sure what you are talking about, but she understands what "this method" means. Maki looks towards Munakata with tears in her eyes.

"I'll ask you just in case, you've done it before, right?"

Munakata responds with a smile on his face.

"I read the manual."

Maki tried to resist, but her hands were empty and only scratched the air. Maki, who was shaking, saw that she could no longer understand the language, Munakata placed the sole of the shoe on the window frame.

Smooth to the end, Munakata says the last sentence.

"Ok, let's go."

"Hm..."

She can't say wait a minute.

Munakata was a man who executed words. A second after he said that, he had already jumped from a height of 100 meters above the ground with Maki and Daichi.

++++++++++

Basically the longer it takes to fall, the faster it will fall.

Its formula, commonly known as gravitational acceleration, is 9.8 m / s, and a rough calculation consumes a height of about 100 meters in less than 5 seconds. Knowing that, it's probably a bit more serious. She would have resisted.

Fortunately, the fear fainted her and it did not interfere with Munakata's work.

At the time of take-off, Munakata quickly opened the parachute. Munakata experienced a free fall for a time until the acceleration died due to air resistance.

At the sound of the wind, Munakata heard laughter.

Suddenly the baby was laughing in his arms. He wondered if he was enjoying the fall, and while hearing a laughing little voice, Munakata was laughing too.

"It's fun? It may be common for you."

The parent's "up and down" game and the current situation may not change much for this child. With that in mind, Munakata precisely operates the parachute.

Air resistance travels through the harness and squeezes Munakata's body. Munakata looked at the Tsubakimon Dome below, while reducing the burden on mother and child as much as possible. Already in his direction, the dome has been opened to reveal the stage.

"President, please respond. Let us know the current situation!"

Awashima's voice echoes from the device close to the ear. Munakata responds to that.

"This is Munakata. We are currently gliding about 70 meters from the earth's surface. We will proceed to land on stage."

In the center of the stage is a circle of bureaucracy, the end of today's sprint. There are 2 minutes and 47 seconds until the start. The image of landing, taking off the parachute, and entering the performance has already been created in Munakata's mind.

"No problem. Everything is fine. Awashima-kun, let's meet up on stage sleeve!"

At the image of Munakata, a sudden gust of wind disappeared.

"Yes!"

Before thinking of anything, Munakata had to devote all his energy to controlling his posture. The parachute, which was about to rotate like a cone, was operated with one hand like a hot kneading jumper, and in the worst case it prevented a free fall due to the disappearance of air resistance.

"President? What did you do?"

Awashima screamed at the anomaly.

"Well, it's not a big deal. I was exposed to the wind from the building and my posture was altered for a moment. The check was completed, but there is a problem."

"What kind of problem is it?"

“The current gust of wind has blown me off the field a lot. If nothing is done, we will land in the audience seats."

Awashima took a deep breath.

Due to the gust of wind, the chances of landing on stage were nil. A similar gust of wind might bring the whole picture back to the landing course, but it's like waiting for a miracle. It was the role of the believer, not the role of the idol, to hold onto heaven with prayer.

Munakata ponders as he spins in the air.

He cannot get off in the audience seats. No action can be taken that could compromise the safety of the public. Not only Munakata himself, but even the metal parachute hardware cannot be dropped on the heads of fans.

So there is only one way left.

"We will take a landing course outside of the dome. We won't be in time for the performance, but we can't help it."

Awashima squeezed out a rough voice.

"Come here."

Until now, Munakata has been racing to get to the performance on time and not disappoint the expectations of the fans. It is not unfortunate that the effort turns into a bubble.

However…

Munakata stroked the baby's hair, giggling happily at his mother's breast, with his fingertips.

"Don't be sorry. We are idols. Those who seek the best. But if that doesn't come true, we can choose the next best option."

"President..."

Awashima's voice has a bitter resignation.

But she was also an idol. Awashima starts working after dispelling it in an instant.

"I get it. Immediately, personnel will be sent to the outside of the cupola, and the president, the mother and the child will be immediately collected. Even if the delay is unavoidable, it should be as short as possible."

"Yes. Thank you."

A sudden voice interrupted Munakata who was about to approve the decision.

"It's not like that."

Munakata slightly opened his eyes.

He can't be wrong, it was the voice of Fushimi Saruhiko, the center of "Shoumutai".

"What are you doing?"

"Please be quiet, Assistant Principal. President, there is no need to change course. 2 minutes to start. If so, it is time to do so."

"What?"

"Akiyama, do it."

With Fushimi's command as the trigger, a sight of pure white spread under his eyes.

It was a huge cloth that completely covered the audience seats at the Tsubakimon Dome. The pure white fabric that glows under the light has a blue dyed stamp in the center. That's the emblem of “Promotion Scepter 4”, the flag of the idol that they should be proud of.

"Now you don't have to worry about landing in the audience. Please come down quickly. The stage is set!"

Watch the scene and listen to the words.

A powerful smile appeared on Munakata's mouth.

"I get it."

Then she slowly descends towards the emblem of his proud "Promotion Scepter 4".

++++++++++

"Huh... someone..."

In a park located outside the Tsubakimon Dome, Domyoji Andy was trapped in a tree and called for help with a weak voice.

The rescued person, tied in front, fainted slightly. After all, he never woke up during the drop or after the landing. He doesn't think there is any difference in life, but he wants to be rescued as soon as possible and taken to the hospital. It's about time Domyoji's shoulders scream from their weight.

"Oh, Domyoji-san! You were in a place like this!"

At that moment, a light illuminated Domyoji's face with a voice of salvation.

They were the staff of "Scepter 4." It looks like he was holding a ladder and looking around the dome. Domyoji mutters through tears when he sees them preparing for rescue.

"Hail me..."

Domyoji, who was saved several tens of seconds later, asked the staff with a deep sigh.

“No, what happened to the president? Did he do it on time?"

"Yes! It seems that with Fushimi-san's ingenuity, he was able to make it in time for the performance! It seems that he is performing well as of now!"

The staff deftly pulled out the PDA which projected a live image.

6:23 pm. The stage lights go out and the noise from the audience seats quickly subsides. For example, fans' expectations, enthusiasm and excitement increase.

The silence of passion, as if you could see it.

A suddenly glowing spotlight pierced the darkness.

In the center of the stage was a man crouched with one knee raised. He is dressed in a beautifully decorated suit and holds a microphone in his slim hands. There is not a single mistake or a single wrinkle in his clothes. The ideal idol is that person, the Idol King who was there.

Those in the audience, behind the television who are watching him, probably don't know how he got to that stage. Munakata must say that it is also the idol's responsibility not to report it.

As soon as the song started, Munakata looked up. A confident smile. An act that can be said to be solemn. Take a fixed turn and start singing.

Domyoji laughed impressively as he watched the fans' enthusiasm explode.

"I'm glad. He is on time."

"Yeah, I'm glad."

The staff laughs too. Only they know how many difficulties Munakata had to go through to be in that place. These difficulties have finally been overcome and the goal has come true.

"Well then, I'm ready too."

Domyoji says that, shaking his head. He also has a major role in the "Extreme solo part, Idol from Above 6500~". For that, he has to go back to heaven.

The staff stopped Domyoji's back.

"Domyoji-san, it's very difficult to tell... but Domyoji-san's part is gone."

"Eh?"

The staff scratched their heads at Domyoji, where their eyes became a point.

“It seems that it is impossible to take off on time because the helicopter has run out of fuel on the previous flight. Therefore, we will reproduce the PV of the album released next week as a replacement for the emergency. That was decided."

Domyoji froze and said...

"What is that? Has all my special training so far been for naught?"

Look at the facial expressions of the staff, quietly but surely.

"What is that? Aaaaaaaaaah!"

Domyoji's scream echoed around the outer edge of the dome.

#K #k project #K stories #k six idols #reisi munakata #SCEPTER 4 #k fan clan

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sherala007 · 4 years

Text

The Landlord, Ch 2

If anyone wants tagging for updates let me know and I’ll start a tag list. I hope you like it. @just-the-hiddles @every-journey-sassypants-loves

Summary: Thorin was cursed to be a vampire until he could find a cure. That was 500 years ago. While not suffering the bloodlust, his kin were dragged into his plight. Lately he’s been dreaming of the same woman for six nights in a row. Could she help him, guide him, or cause his downfall.

Warnings: no actual violence, a man does get up close and personal without her permission but no rape or anything like that, public drunkenness

Ch 2

Dwalin meandered a few doors down, while, almost as an afterthought, grabbed his phone and hit one-touch dialing.

“Eureka,” was all he said.

“Finally,” the voice replied. “Stay in the area and see if you can follow her home. Tomorrow you can give the info to Bofur and Nori and they can get to work. Good job, brother.”

“Understood.” Dwalin ended the call and continued strolling along the way. He knew the club would close around two am so he had some time to kill. Constantine’s All Night diner was half a block up. Some food and coffee would be perfect right now. He always loved Bombur’s cooking.

-------------

Sofia made her rounds on the floor, the music still loud, heavy, and making her headache. Two private dances later and she had enough to cover the rest of the rent. Thank God for that; and no groping which was a boon. Wandering towards the backroom entrance a shadow figure ducked out the door she was heading for and made straight for her. They were walking sloppy, feet dragging and leaning to the left, grabbing chairs as they passed so as not to fall. She noticed the shine from grease slicked hair. There were only two men who wore their hair like that and looking quick, she saw Herman sitting in his corner, watching over his domain; his goons on each side and his latest bimbo in his lap.

“Good evening, Francis. How’s it going tonight? You look like you’ve been having fun,” she stated, always polite. She stood straight, hands clasped tight together in front of her.

“Hey there, Sofie,” he said as his salacious gaze focused on her boobs. “You did great tonight,” he slurred as he tilted forward making Sofia edge back to stay just out of breath range.

“Thanks, Francis,” she said and smiled evenly. She kept trying to think of a way to get away from him. All she wanted to do was go home. He wouldn’t move.

“Why didn’t you come near me,” he whined. “I had some tips for you. You know the teacher is my favorite, he leered and tilted forward again.

“I’m sorry, Francis. When I’m up there I can’t see faces well, with the lights and all,” Sofia gestured towards the stage. “Maybe next time.” She tried to find a path around him. “If you’ll excuse me now, I”d like to get home.” She made to step around him but he had other plans.

Surprising her with his agility, he shuffled to block her path and snaked an arm out, grabbing her and pulling her to him. “Now Sofie,” he whispered in her ear, “I know it’s not quitting time yet. How about one last dance just for me?” Francis held her tight, eyes hard and now very clear.

“Sure, Francis. One more just for you.” Her fake smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. His hand gripped her harder, fingers digging into her the flesh of her hip. She knew tonight there’d be no escape.

-----------

Dwalin walked around the block to work off his meal. Bombur’s meals usually put him to sleep. That wasn’t an option tonight. He found the back door of the club and waited, leaning in the shadows while a book on his phone in dark mode to minimize any light.

One Forty-five AM, the sound of keys hitting the pavement got his attention.

“No, Francis, please,” Sofia yelled as she struggled to yank her arm from his grasp.

“I’m not ready to let you go yet, Sofie. I need a bit more personal attention,” Francis growled as he jerked her back against him, as she struggled and squirmed.

“HEY!” Dwalin bellowed as he stepped from his hiding spot. “The lady said no, now you best let her go.” He walked closer, stopping a few feet away from the pair.

“Piss Off before you regret it,” Francis slurred. “This ain’t your business.” He tried to yank Sofia behind him but lost his grip enough for her to slip away from him. She darted to the opposite side of the alley from the two men, keeping them both in her line of sight.

“It’s good manners when a lady says to leave her alone, it’s best to do so. Now be a good lad and go home to sleep it off.” Dwalin was ready to defend against any attack. He kept an eye on Francis, waiting for any movement, taking special notice of the badge clipped to Francis’s belt. “Great, a cop. Just what we needed,” he thought.

Sofia held her place against the wall, not moving, holding her breath. She saw Francis start to ball his right fist up when a loud crash echoed from within the dressing room area. Maintaining eye contact, Francis backed into the doorway, a sneer on his lips.

“I’ll see you around,” he spat at Dwalin. He glanced at Sofia, “See you tomorrow night, baby.” He slammed the door as he turned to move back down the hall.

“Are you alright, miss,” he turned to face Sofia, keeping his distance, hands open and out to his sides showing he meant no harm. He relaxed his posture and released the stern look on his face.

“I will be. Thank you for your help, but he’s going to be pissed tomorrow.” She squatted to get her keys, never taking her eyes off the stranger.

“Sorry for butting in but you didn’t sound like you wanted him near you,” Dwalin said.

“You’re right but while here I don’t have much choice. It’s a hazard of the job.” Sofia stood watching the stranger. His bald head reflecting the light above the door, illuminating several tattoos. His brown Henley open at the top two buttons, hanging down to the pockets of his jeans. His faded Levi’s close in color to matching the dark blue of his eyes. The side buckle on his lineman boots twinkled at her. Broad in shoulders, chest, and arms, he cut an impressive figure, even at his shorter stature. Francis had a good foot on him.

The smell of the dumpsters in the alley started to make her want to gag. The fear of Herman and Francis coming back with the good squad started to make her shake. It was time to run.

“Thank you again,” she smiled and nodded at him as she turned to walk away.

“Not to bother you, but you may want to take a cab. I can see you trembling from here,” he suggested. “I promise you, I’ll keep my distance. Let’s walk to the end of the alley. I’ll call and pay for a cab for you and I’ll go on my way. This way if he comes back I can stop him. Ok,” Dwalin suggested.

“You won’t come any closer?” Sofia couldn’t believe she was thinking of trusting him.

“No ma’am.” Dwalin held his hands up in surrender.

“Ok,” she said.

The alley was wide enough for a garbage truck so she made sure to keep a truck's distance between them. They reached the brighter lights of the main street and she leaned against the wall next to her, backpack and keys held tight, phone within easy reach.

Dwalin pulled out his phone showing her the name of the cab company he was calling for her, Nadadri Cabs, one of the best in town. All their vehicles were clean and very well maintained. They were also a unique color; baby blue with a pink “Taxi” light on top. She nodded her agreement with his choice.

“Good Evening. Nadadri Cabs. Where do you need the ride from, please,” the voice echoed through the speakerphone?

He gave their location and the voice gave his ETA. Dwalin ended the call and waited stoically for a few minutes until the cab arrived. He opened the door for Sofia to get in, making sure she was comfortable before shutting it.

“She’ll give you the address. Here’s two hundred. When you drop her off, please wait until she’s inside her building before leaving, please,” he requested. “Ma’am, I hope you rest well and peacefully tonight.” He smiled at Sofia and moved away as the car moved off.

As the car rounded the corner Dwalin placed another call.

“Change of plans. Dori is driving her home in his cab. I’ll explain why later. I’m on my way home,” he said as he turned the other way and walked off. He couldn’t wait to get home and shower, getting rid of the god-awful dumpster stench.

-----------

A shadow watched all the happenings from the rooftop across from the alley. After the cab left, the shadow turned and followed the other man down the road. There was much to contemplate later.

------------

Translation – Nadadri = (roughly) Brother’s Ri

#unwanted male contact #intimidation #drunkenness #vampire landlord fic frenzy #vampire landlord #Thorin AU vampire fanfic

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that-one-jasper · 4 years

Text

TFP Ratchet X Sick! Reader

Regular P.o.V

You had a very bad tendency to push yourself past your limit when you were sick. You'd force yourself to go to school and work, and help out anyone who'd ask. This meant when Miko wanted a sleepover at the base, you'd felt obligated to go, and agreed. So now you were waiting for your guardian, Smokescreen to come to pick you up and take you to the base, all the while trying to ignore the raging migraine going on in your skull. You were snapped out of your thoughts when a car honked from outside, signalling that your guardian had arrived. Picking up your overnight bag, you left the house, locking the door in the process and hoping in the driver's seat, a cough wracking your throat as you got in. "Woah, Y/n, you don't sound too good. You sure you want to come?" Smokescreen asked. You nodded your head, "Miko wanted to do a sleepover, and It's fine I'm not that sick anyways." "If you say so, just don't let Ratchet see you." He joked, making you smile. He knew you had feelings towards the grumpy medic, and would always joke around or tease you about, but only if it was just the two of you. "He'd lose his mind if he knew I was sick and didn't take proper care." You smiled, the small town buildings getting sparser until it was all merely desert.

Pulling into the base, Smokescreen stopped so you could walk out and make your way to the small loft that Miko and Jack were already at, challenging one another at the racing game they were playing. "Hey, guys," you greeted, setting your bag down on the floor and sitting down on the couch next to Jack. "Hey Y/n! You excited for tonight?" Miko asked, her eyes still glued onto the screen in front of her. You nodded your head with a smile, "Of course I am!" You held up the most authentic enthusiastic demeanour that you could muster, though it wasn't that easy with your migraine getting worse. Their game soon ended with Miko as the winner, and her bragging about it. "So, what do we do next?" You questioned, hugging onto a stray pillow. "We could play truth or dare?" Miko suggested. "Maybe," Jack replied. You knew he wasn't a big fan of those types of games. "Why don't we talk about a certain wrecker you've had your eyes on?" You smirked, poking Miko's side. "What? I have no clue what you're talking about." She claimed, crossing her arms. You chuckled and nodded your head, "Sure you don't, it's not like its not obvious." Jack joined in on the teasing. None of the bots were around surprisingly, all off doing their own thing. Miko looked over at you, "Well what about you and the Doc? You're always staring at him while he works," she teased, your face flushing a bright red. "Don't be ridiculous, Ratchet wouldn't want someone like me, I'm not even his species!" You exclaimed. Miko was in silence for a moment, "I don't like this, she's planning something," Jack said uneasily. You nodded in agreement. "What if you caught his attention? Make him fall for you?" She suggested, You immediately shook your head. "Miko that's insane," Jack spoke up, you were about to say something when you started coughing. After a few moments, you couldn't stop coughing and couldn't breathe, so you quickly picked up your bag and searched for your inhaler, finding it after a few frantic seconds before using it and finally being able to breathe again. "Y/n are you alright?" Jack asked you, to which you muttered a very scratchy 'yes.' "I just have a little cold." You admitted, making Miko beam with excitement. "Aha! That's the perfect reason to see Ratchet!" You shook your head vigorously, "no, Miko." You stated, ending the discussion there. "Awe fine, but in my defence, it could've worked out between you two." You giggled at her comment, and the three of you spent the rest of the night watching movies and eating the junk food Miko had brought from home.

You woke up in worse shape than expected, your voice was almost completely gone, you had a high fever. You tried to stand up, but was hit with very bad dizzy spells and almost tumbled down the stairs. You looked around to see that you were the only one up, and decided it would probably be best just to stay up on your phone since you wouldn't be getting any sleep in your state. You felt another coughing fit come up and reached for your inhaler. Right now you were regretting your choice to go to the sleepover rather than just staying at home. The time read 7:42 so you knew Smokescreen would be up soon and would be able to drive you home so you could deal with the cold yourself. You threw the blanket you were using over you to keep the chills away to no avail, you were shivering like a dog. It wasn't long before you heard the thumps of an Autobot, and you got hopeful thinking it was Smokescreen, but when you looked around you were met with a white and orange paint job. "Ratchet?" You spoke as loud as your raspy voice would let you, which wasn't much. The bright blue optics met with your tired ones, and you could've sworn in your daze a flash of concern went across the medic's face. "I'm sorry to be a bug, but could are there any extra blankets? I'm freezing," Ratchet walked over towards your shivering form, and as much as he wanted to lecture you about forcing yourself out when you're sick, he knew the best thing for you was to rest. "I'll drive you home. You really need to get some rest." You nodded and said a small thank you as another coughing fit took over your system. Grabbing your stuff, you hopped into Ratchet's vehicle mode and he drove out of the base.

"You have a very high fever," He noted after a few minutes. "Probably, it's not uncommon. And I'm really sorry you have to drive me home, I thought I could last until at least this afternoon when I planned to go home." You answered. "I'll have Smokescreen check up on you later, for now as soon as you get inside, you need to rest and have plenty of fluids if you're fever doesn't go down then take a warm bath and it should help." "You sure know a lot about humans and their health." You smiled, looking out of the window. "I figured it wouldn't hurt since Miko does get into a lot of trouble, and it certainly came in handy since you push yourself too hard when you're sick." You liked seeing this nicer side of Ratchet, though you figured he was only being this way since you wouldn't really remember after you got better. You saw your house come into view and found yourself struggling to stand up and grab your bag. Eventually, you did, and as you walked up to your house you waved goodbye to the medic, who didn't do anything in turn. Unlocking your door, you stepped in, waved again, shut it, and fell back asleep on the couch, not even caring anymore since you always kept thick blankets in the living room.

Some hours past and you heard a small knock at your door. cursing whoever was there, you dragged yourself out from the comfort of the warm couch and opened it, not caring how horrendous you may have looked. Though you were surprised to see the holo-form of the same medic that had dropped you off a few hours ago. "Ratchet?" Your voice was barely heard as said medic nodded his head. "Smokescreen is on a mission so I decided to check up on you." He explained as you let him in. "Have you been doing everything I listed?" "Um-no," you quickly answered, "I've been sleeping all day." You chuckled sheepishly. "Well, then it looks like I came at the right time. Since Smokescreen isn't here, and quite frankly I don't trust him to take care of you, I'll be your caretaker for the rest of the day." He declared, hanging up his jacket in the closet and ushering for you to go lay back down on the couch.

"No Ratchet really, I'm fine," you tried to say, but it was interrupted by a coughing fit. "Doesn't sound like you're okay. Now rest, It seems like you still have a fever so I'll get you a damp cloth." He looked around for a minute before you gave a light giggle. "They're in the kitchen drawer next to the stove, third one down." He nodded and swiftly went to get it for you. If you were being honest, you loved getting the attention of your favourite bot. He got your fever to go down and even managed to make soup-with you directing him from the couch so he wouldn't burn it. You were grateful for his help and honestly felt better enough to mostly everything. "Thanks for everything today Ratchet, I know you're usually busy at the base," you smiled, wrapped up on the couch in a big fuzzy blanket. "It's quite alright, there wasn't much happening, and Optimus insisted I get out of the Base more." You nodded your head in agreement. "Makes sense, you two always look out for each other." You sat quietly for a moment, debating if now was the right moment to tell him your feelings, but he beat you to it. "Y/n, I must confess something." You noticed the pinkish colour that spread to his cheeks, signalling he was embarrassed. "What is it?" You almost sound too eager to hear his response. "I must admit that for the last week or so I have become infatuated, with you." This time you felt your face heat up, and you gave him a big smile. "I'm so glad to hear that Ratchet, I feel the same," a look of relief flashed across the medic's face. "Since I'm feeling better, is it alright for me to come back to the base?" Ratchet thought for a moment, before retaking your temp and checking your vitals, and once you reassured him three times, he agreed that you could.

"Soo, what do we tell the team?" You questioned, looking down at the dashboard. "Do you want to tell them?" He answered with another question, and you shook your head. "I mean it's not that I have a problem if they know, but I kinda want to keep it on the down-low, for now, maybe we only tell Optimus first." Ratchet agreed with you as he drove into the base, where a couple of the bots were hanging around, along with Miko. Stepping out, you were greeted by an excited Miko, who basically smothered you with a hug until you couldn't breathe. "No roughhousing Y/n, take it easy," were Ratchet's last few words to you before turning over to work on the computer. "Don't worry!" You called back. Miko sent you a sly smirk. "What? What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, only making her giggle. "He obviously cares about you, why not make a move first?" You shook your head and climbed up to rest on the couch. "No, I think I'm good for now," You replied. Not too long after talking with Jack, Raf and Miko for some time did Smokescreen come and greet you. "Hey Y/n, Ratchet drive you back home?" You nodded your head. "I was just going to for you to wake up, but I felt really sick so I asked if he could." "Awe I'm sorry Y/n, next time come wake me and I'll drive you." He told, "no-no, you already use enough energy, that recharge is all you have. Besides, I'm feeling better now." Miko joined in on the conversation, "was it because the doc was at your house all day today?" You blushed and hid your face in your hands, making your friends laugh at you. "Well, he only did it because Smokescreen was out on a mission," saying this caused a confused look on the rookie's face. "What? I didn't have a mission today? We were all here, save for some patrol but nothing too unusual. Why would he say I have a mission?" "Aww, he wanted to spend time with you!" Miko poked your cheek, "that's adorable Y/n!" She squealed. "He has a soft spot for you, you know." Smokescreen said in a hushed tone to you. You giggled along with them before glancing towards the medbay. "You wanna go make a move?" Miko asked, nudging your side. You decided why the heck not, and motioned for Smokescreen to help you up.

'Hey Ratchet," You greeted, as you walked closer to him. "Y/n," he greeted half mindedly, more so focusing on the screen in front of him. "So I was wondering why you said Smokescreen was on a mission when he was actually here at the base?" This made the medic stop, and blush a very faint, but bright blue. "W-Well," he stumbled over his words, and you giggled. "It's alright Ratchet, you can tell me later. But I wanted to know if you wanted to go on a date sometime?" You asked fairly calmly, though on the inside you were completely freaking out. The white and orange bot thought for a moment before replying with a very quiet, "yes," making you grin from ear to ear.

For the rest of the day, you sat there and worked with Ratchet with whatever he was doing, just wanting to spend time with him overall, as Smokescreen and Miko would watch from afar, sometimes giggling or whispering to one another as they watched on. You felt being with Ratchet was right, and hopefully, he thought the same, but only time will tell.

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Definitely not my best, but I wanted a nice sweet chapter to kick us off again. I really hope you guys enjoyed it :)

#TFP Ratchet #TransformersPrime #Xreader #Reader Insert #Autobots #Fanfiction #Fiction #fandoms

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jimclassicstoycollection · 4 years

Photo

Transformers Legends (Japanese version)

Leader class

Jetfire

You’d think that I’d be covering the Siege version of Jetfire, didn’t you; but no. I don’t own the Siege version.

He just wasn’t a priority for me.

I got Jetfire from Ebay, for about $30 some time around September 2019, so thins is rough where I am in the timeline. He arrived around the same time as the Rainmakers, and Siege Skywarp.

This version of Jetfire is the Japanese version of 2014′s Transformers Generations toyline, however his weapons and accessories do not come with the vacuum metal red paint, and the’re all just red plastic instead.

Vehicle Mode:

I’m no jet expert, but Sky...I’m sorry, Jetfire’s jet mode is some kind of fighter jet with articulated wings, very similar to his G1 toy/ macros origins.

The jet is cast in mostly white plastic with red painted details. There are some black plastic for the boosters, some clear blue for the canopy, and I think the nose cone is a soft rubber.

it’s a solid jet mode. Everything’s holding together well, the wings move into position fine, it has minimal panel details.

The red paint is clean, and also simple, and I love the Autobot tampagraph on the nose cone.

Jetfire can be outfitted with all of his accessories in both modes; for the jet mode he’s got those awesome rocket boosters, add the guns to the wings and the fuselage and he’s ready for some mainframe combat. You can add the gun to the nosecone too, but I’m not a fan of that.

The canopy can open revealing some nice detail, however it’s all unpainted black plastic, but it’s a nice option.

I will say this; if you look at the jet mode from the ventral section you’ll see the faux chest canopy underneath and between the intake manifolds, and it’s pretty obvious what that part is.

I suppose you could make the argument that since Jetfire’s all about technological advancement that it’s a high powered scanner, or something. Maybe a deflector array?...He is a scientist and explorer after all...

Transformation:

Transformation can be a scary thing sometimes. Lots of the transformations requires moving limbs and large areas around on thin, possibly breakable plastic, and personally this is not the type of Transformer you can just mindlessly convert; I recommend taking your time, and being careful with it.

Robot Mode:

But you can’t argue with the end result; Jetfire looks amazing.

I love this robot mode, I’m really glad that I made bought this figure. He doesn’t exactly look like his G1 counterpart, but he also has that 21st century update to the figure.

Jetfire, stands tall, like any lead class figure should; this is back when the classification still meant something.

Now we do see that Jetfire has a faux chest while the real nosecone is part of his backpack, and maybe that was unavoidable, I don’t know. It doesn’t bother me too much, especially since the rocket boosters do a god job hiding it.

The toy also has a FIFTEEEN 5mm ports; that’s a pretty good amount considering this toy predates the Siege line. Some of these 5mm ports are on the guns which we’ll talk about more in a bit.

I love this head sculpt. It is such a good, and clean sculpt referencing ‘The Transformers’ Sunbow animation cartoon model.

The head kind of reminds of a space helmet with the silver face sticking, and once you add the battle mask it completes that look just fine. I prefer the mask off to be honest, but depending on the posing or the scene I have no problem with it being on.

Obviously Hasbro and Takara were trying to make a modern representation of both Jetfire’s Marcros origins with his Sunbow cartoon animation model, and I think for the most they made it work.

I would say Jetfire has a decent range of motion:

Horizontal hinge at the head, swivel at the neck, swivel at thye shoulders, hinges at the armpits, elbow bend, NO WRIST SWIVEL, universal knees, thigh swivel, knee bend, and ankle tilt.

The toy is definitely missing any waist or torso articulation, or wrist swivels, but this is also an older figure, is still acceptable..

Accessories:

Jetfire’s weapons and accessories are mostly made of red plastic with some black paint in certain areas.

The booster rockets can be clipped to the back of the jet. The clip is one a swivel, and the boosters can either be positioned up or down. In my opinion I prefer to keep the boosters down. The booster also has two 2 out of the 15 5mm ports.

The pair of arm guns are red, hollow plastic with black paint, they’ll clip on any 5mm port, and each gun has a 5mm point as well.

There’s another pair of larger guns which attach to Jetfire’s legs. They are also hollow red plastic, with black paint at the barrels. And the they also each have a 5mm ports.

The hand gun made out of red plastic is a spring loaded missile launcher.

The missile launches pretty well , and has two 5mm ports on the sides of the gun.

Last of the accessories is Jetfire’s battle mask. I think it’s a clear blue plastic painted white, silver and black. The mask heralds back to the old Macros toys, and it slides off and on the the heads sculpt pretty well. It’s a nice option.

My only complaint about the battle mask is that for the life of me I can’t get the toy to wear it while in jet mode. Every time I’m transforming the figure, the mask eventually pops off, and I’m not about to use a lot of force with a thin plastic mask, on a toy with thin plastic hinges; so I just don’t even bother keep it on.

Final Thoughts:

I know I’m late to the game here, but I’m happy to finally have this figure. I wanted this figure back in 2014 but never picked it up. I though I had missed my opportunity, but I managed to pick one up for a good price.

Since i don’t have Siege Jetfire I’m glad that I have this one.

It’s a fun, modern update (2014) to a classic character. In my opinion this mold still holds up, as long as you’re careful transforming him.

#toys #action figures #hasbro #transformers #jetfire #autobot #generations #takara #Legends #skyfire #macros #leader class

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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years

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A Call for Help

The second fic for the “wrong numbers” anon. For the prompt: you misdial at a telephone booth and ask in a very upset voice if I can pick you up, and I don’t know why, but I ask where you are so I can pick you up” for Sternclay.

Barclay blinks awake to the ring of the phone, eyes the clock. It’s 2 am and he panics, assumes Mama, or Aubrey, or Duck or someone is in a fix.

“H’lo?”

“This is Agent Stern, I’m at coordinates” there’s a buzz of static, though Barclay just manages to jot down the numbers the man says, “I’m, it’s, oh god, the car, the car is busted and the target is definitely here and I need help, I need-”

There’s a howl on the other end of the line in the distance and the man gasps, and Barclay is already pulling on his clothes.

“Stay put, okay? I’ll come get you. Look for the pick-up.”

“Pick-up? Wait, shit, shitshit, you’re a civilian, I dialed-it doesn’t matter, do not come it’s too dange-”

Barclay clicks the phone off, plugs the coordinates into the map app. Just as he’d feared, he recognizes the name of where they’re sending him: Bray Road

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He barrels away from the city and down county roads, hurling curses at his past self.

See, there’s this gate to another world, located near Devils Lake. Some who come through it, like Barclay, have been cast off from their home. Others are not so friendly, are bloodthirsty and dangerous. Barclay and Mama, along with a few other individuals, make sure that second group are destroyed.

But sometimes they make mistakes. Sometimes, he misses tracks, and they can’t find a creature until it’s too late, until it can break the initial radius from the gate and roam free.

Sometimes, an abomination becomes an urban legend. That doesn’t make it any less of a threat.

He’s on Bray Road, and up ahead he sees a car pulled to the side. There’s no lights, no sign of anyone even in the damn thing.

Once he parks the truck, he approaches the car, flashlight in hand. Surveys the front, which looks like it hit something very, very large. And then he yelps, throws up his hands when someone pops up from behind it, weapon drawn.

“...Oh for the love of, I told you not to come!” The figures arms drop to its sides.

“You’re welcome.” Barclay deadpans, “But I guess if you’ve got another ride coming…”

“No, but I’ll, it’s OW!” Barclay aims the flashlight at the man, Sterns, face, making him flinch. He lowers the beam to stop blinding him, takes in his face: dark hair, sharp cheekbones, brown eyes. He looks familiar. And he looks scared.

He should be.

“Look, you woke me up and are clearly in some kind of trouble. So how about you get in the truck so we can get the hell out of this spooky field?”

Stern opens his mouth to argue when there’s a rustling in the distance and, under it, a growl. Barclay is this close to hauling him over his shoulder and chucking him into the truck when he reaches into the car, grabs a small black bag, and jerks his head towards the vehicle. Just as they get in and Barclay starts the engine, the cornstalks in front of the dead car shake. Stern sucks in his breath and Barclay prepares to drive like a demon.

A deer emerges, investigates the car, and they both exhale as Barclay turns back towards the city. When he glances in the rear-view mirror, the deer is on the ground. And something with red eyes is looking back at him.

He really hopes Stern didn’t see that.

They drive in silence.

“Thank you.” Stern says softly.

“You’re welcome.” Barclay says, meaning it this time. “What were you doing out here this late?”

“I was on a stakeout looking for a cryptid. It found me and I, well, I wasn’t prepared. It totaled the front of the car when it leapt out of the dark. I bought myself time firing on it but…” He shudders.

“I called you because I thought you were another agent staying in town.”

“Hey, not the first time someones hit the wrong number.” Barclay doesn’t like seeing people upset, tries to switch from fight or flight mode into something more comforting.

“But it was saved in my phone. I don’t know why. I meant to hit the number above it. Then again, when I did call the right person they said I’d spooked myself. Which is something I’ve heard before but, well, it is more distressing when one is trapped in the dark miles from help.”

“Glad you misdialed, then.” Barclay smiles softly, relaxes as the lights of the city come into view, “where are you staying?”

“The Amnesty Lodge.”

“So that’s why you look familiar.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m the cook there.”

“Oh. I, uh, come to the restaurant quite often. It’s exquisite. Some of the best food in the city.”

Barclay puffs up a bit at that, flashes a bigger smile his passengers way and his heart skips a beat; Stern is looking at him almost shyly, features much more charming now that they’re no longer laced with fear and annoyance.

Then Stern groans, thunks a hand against his forehead.

“Lord, I saved the number for the restaurant in my phone so I could call for reservations when I needed to. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s no big deal. A friend of mine likes to fuck with me by rerouting that number sometimes. And like I said, I’m glad you called so you weren’t stuck out there with god-knows-what.”

“You believe in the beast too?”

“No” he lies “but there are still coyotes and such, and those suckers can do damage if they’re pissed.”

“My car wasn’t attacked by a coyote.” Stern says, unamused.

“Not saying it was. Just that there are lots of things out here that can hurt a guy.”

Stern doesn’t say anything else, and Barclay finds himself searching from something to talk about that doesn’t force him to lie the entire time.

“You ever heard of the Hodag?”

“One of the great american hoaxes.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

Stern looks prepared to argue or defend himself until he realizes that Barclay genuinely wants an answer and isn’t teasing him. Relaxes into his seat.

“Well, since you ask…”

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Should Barclay be worried that he wants to befriend this FBI agent who could very well discover the secrets he and Mama work so hard to hide? Yes

Should he also be worried that said FBI agent is sound asleep on his bed, having forgotten his room key in the abandoned car only to fall asleep while Barclay procured a new one? Also yes.

But he looks so peaceful, and a little adorable. Barclay sits on the edge of the bed, toes off his shoes.

He’ll just lay down while he sets his alarm, then wake Stern up.

His eyes snap open sometime later when an intense pressure encircles his chest. He panics until he looks over his shoulder to see Stern had curled up around him during the night. The pressure is because the man is twitching in his sleep, making distressed sounds. Then he gasps, sits up, panting and wide-eyed.

“Hey, Stern, it’s okay. You’re at the hotel, you’re safe.” He scoots in front of Stern, places his hands lightly on his shoulders to ground him. He half expects the man to pull away, but instead he collapses forward, head resting on Barclays shoulder as he gulps down shaky breaths.

“No abom-I mean scary dog thing is gonna get you here.” He draws Stern closer and the other man is nearly in his lap. If he minds the proximity, he doesn’t show it.

“W-wasn’t that. Run in with, with a lake monster up north. Almost got me. No one believes me, even though I have the scar to prove it no one believes, they never believe-” He wraps his arms around Barclay, clings to him.

“I believe you.” Barclay whispers and something in Stern uncoils and his muscles no longer feel like they’ll snap under Barclays hands. For a few minutes he simply strokes his back and hair, the intimacy of the gesture feeling somehow right.

“I apologize, I don’t believe comforting guests is in your job description.”

“Don’t mind it in the slightest in your case.”

“It’s funny, I pride myself on my professional caution and paranoia but” he looks at Barclay, “but I find you remarkably easy to trust.”

“I have that effect on people.”

Stern smirks.

“Do they all end up in your bed having night terrors?”

“Nope, just the ones who need somewhere real safe to stay.”

A beat of perfect silence.

“May I stay? The rest of the night I mean.”

“Of course. Lemme at least change into pajamas.”

By the time he does, Stern is once again out cold. Though perhaps not all the way, since when Barclay lays down he immediately rolls on his side and curls his arms around one of Barclays.

Should Barclay be worried about this? Probably. There are so many things to worry about, after all.

Does he care about that right now, as he brushes a stray dark hair from Sterns forehead.

Not one bit.

#Sternclay #TAZ amnesty #agent stern/barclay #au list prompt #prompt fills #cw: animal death

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stusbunker · 5 years

Text

Below the Surface and In the Wild

For Better or Worst: Chapter Three

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Emery Simmons-Winchester OFC

OCs: Bandit (their dog), Sam’s coworkers Gretchen, Lourdes and Cady. Neighbors: Trudy and Jason Schneider and their dogs Mox and Sho.

Season 14 AU

Word Count: 2481

Summary: Sam is a doll. A sneak peek into what life was like those rough, first, few weeks. Then the newlyweds unknowingly start to understand just what being bound on a soul-level means.

Warnings: Mixed reality, magical persuasion.

Series Masterlist

^*^*^

One morning, inside the library building and down two flights of stairs, Sam approached his cubby, which housed notes for his current project, a small wireless speaker and a picture of Emery and Bandit, taken when he was a puppy. This trek toward work only reminded Sam how old he actually was, relative to his coworkers, at least. Gretchen was helping Lourdes fill out her taxes with an online program, as this was the first time the young woman had held a job. They were two of many graduate students that made up most of the labor for the archive department, though Sam worked full time. A position, though he had been teased for nepotism, he quite enjoyed. At this point in the term, he had given up reminding the twenty-somethings that Emery had just started with the school as well. He had started drowning out the phrase “trophy husband”, however, as they not so quietly gossiped.

Luckily, Sam was almost positive to be left in peace, as he was transferring video footage from guest lecturers from the 80s and 90s into digital files for the school’s preservation society, in one of the soundproof rooms due to the availability of the allotted equipment. He didn’t need it to be silent, but it wouldn’t stop him from taking advantage of the location. Somewhere between fall ’84 and spring ’85, Cady knocked on the heavy door. Sam had very little interaction with the former volleyball player, but it wasn’t for her lack of trying. She smiled until he removed the headphones he wore, teeth pristine against spray tanned skin. Even post spring break, no one was that shade naturally.

“Hey, we’re going to the union for lunch, did you want to join us?” Cady cocked her head to the side with a hand on her hip, toe twisting at the end of her oh so long legs.

“I’m good, thanks,” Sam nodded and turned back to checking volume levels on what had transferred so far. He felt her linger behind him, but he didn’t look back until the door clicked shut. Sam closed his eyes in relief.

Once he heard voices in the common area, Sam ducked out for his own late lunch walk. He hated being stagnant for hours on end, even if he didn’t remember it, his body was used to roller coastering between seated research and quick intensive work outs. It was a Tuesday, a day that always sat wrong with him. He found himself wandering towards Owens Hall, following the steady flow of traffic into the massive building. Just as the doors were closing to Lecture Room B, Sam slipped inside and found the last aisle seat, near the middle of the auditorium. As soon as Emery stood and offered a cordial good afternoon, the hall fell silence. Sam didn’t notice the small grin that had seated itself on his face as he watched her pace in front of her projected bullet points as she spoke. She wove her lecture like a narrative, intriguing and informative, it was almost a performance to hear her speak of the Crusades instead of course work.

Halfway through the allotted time, Sam remembered he was supposed to be back to work, and he stood at an angle to duck out of the hall unnoticed.

“Excuse me, but the lecture isn’t finished,” a stern voice called to him from the stage. The students whispered in both mockery and annoyance as Sam got called out for interrupting.

“Sorry, I was just stopping by—my lunch break is over.” Sam nodded, frowning in chagrin.

“So, you’re rude AND decided to waste my students’ time, the same people who are paying to be here?” Emery raised her eyebrows at Sam, a sinister tilt to her painted lips.

“I guess so– Sorry, about that. I just wanted to see the hot new History professor I heard about,” Sam spat back, putting some humiliation on her plate as well. The crowd erupted.

“I’ll be going though, don’t want to waste anymore of y’all’s time,” he called over the fuss.

She bit her lip as he turned to go, cursing under her breath. As soon as the door closed behind his flanneled back, Emery was back in professor mode.

“Alright, that’s enough, he’s my husband—don’t get too excited.”

Come six o’clock, Sam beat Emery to their crossover, though he could have kept working. It was tedious and any of the grad students could have taken the project, it was just nice to have a reason to stop for the day. Sam hadn’t allowed himself this kind romance in what felt like lifetimes and without the ability to pinpoint why, he was holding fast to his marriage, his partnership. Leaning on someone he respected was natural to Sam and he felt doubly blessed to have a woman like Emery to be there to support him, day in and day out. It was a small, simple life, but it is was theirs.

They had plans with their neighbors Trudy and Jason, which they had rescheduled once already because Bandit had a go with a skunk. They were nice people, but Sam was still adjusting to the social expectations of living nearby other couples in their thirties. New town meant new friends, right? That’s what Emery had kept telling him, trying to brush off some of his awkwardness. As he waited, he caught up with the news on his phone, preferring to lean against the car than inside it. Though it had the headspace, not a lot of vehicles had the leg space for him to sit comfortably and it felt less creepy of him, somehow. It’s not like he was on a stakeout, why would he sit inside the car?

Emery clicked the unlock button on her keys, intentionally startling Sam from his latest article.

“Crash any good lectures today?” She taunted, leaning up for a quick kiss.

“Ha-ha,” was his only reply. She tossed her bags in the backseat before sliding into the driver’s spot. They drove home easily, flirty glances and light banter, the sounds of NPR in the background. Sam took the dog for a walk while Emery changed, and she prepped the dessert she bought while he did.

Cheesecake and wine in hand, they strolled out the back door, over the sidewalk a whopping sixty feet and were then promptly greeted by Jason and Trudy’s two rottweilers, all by seven o’clock sharp. Jason kneed his way to the door before taking Mox and Sho by the collar to allow their guests inside. Sam, handed Emery the wine before leaning down to greet the dogs, letting Emery present their gifts. Jason, both burly and gregarious, nodded to the back of the house to the kitchen where Trudy was finishing up. The conversation flowed easily over the dogs as everyone calmed down with the company.

“Now, I know you can’t partake, but I figured–,” Emery was nearly apologizing to the very pregnant Trudy over the passing of the bottle of wine. The somehow still lanky redhead waved off Emery’s concern.

“My doctor says a half a glass at this point won’t do anything besides let me relax and with those boys eating through the latest diaper bag—I could use it,” Trudy shrugged. “How’s your week been?”

The two couples ate al fresco, enjoying the Schneider’s large deck, on the back of their house built when they moved in four years before, along with the matching eight-foot fence. Emery kept her free hand on Sam’s thigh while they got settled, but after a few glasses of wine, they were all chuckling easily. Trudy had grilled steaks and asparagus that rivaled celery stalks in size. Jason had tried a couscous recipe which everyone politely and silently agreed to never speak of it again.

“Man, I gotta say, I’m glad we did this,” Jason handed out mushy bear hugs at the door.

“Anytime,” Sam replied, patting Jason on the back as he grabbed Emery.

“Yeah? Nice! Didn’t scare you off,” Jason teased. “Seriously though, after those first couple’a weeks I thought you were a douche.”

“And now?” Sam swallowed, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Jury’s still out,” Trudy dropped out of left field, causing everyone to break away with their own laughter. “Don’t be strangers just because my husband can’t cook.”

Perhaps they hadn’t all agreed to leave it be. With a signature awkward wave and a tugging at his elbow, Sam turned toward home. On his arm, Emery was humming from the gentle buzz of her share of the bottles of wine. Sam struggled to remember what would have made Jason say what he had.

Sam hadn’t been paying attention, but a passing glance at the date stamped on the sub/reddit he was reading made his blood run cold. It was Dean’s birthday, his fortieth. They needed answers, a timeframe, something. He deserved to know that this was all worth it, that it was working. Emery came home an hour later to find Sam sitting in the dining room, that they had yet to use. A third of a bottle of Johnny Walker gone.

“Hey, everything okay?” She held her stomach as uncertainty and alarm battled to creep out of her cool demeanor as accusations. She didn’t know much about Sam yet, but that much alcohol that quickly wasn’t good for anyone.

Sam turned and his lip curled in spite. “What’s it matter? It’s all in their hands now isn’t? We just play house and wait on the angels. Like that ever really worked before.”

“Sam, we both, we need this—" Emery looked to her feet as her throat thickened.

“Save it. I know. I’ll play the part. It doesn’t mean I am going to be quiet about them leaving us in the dark,” Sam snapped at the ceiling.

“So, what, you’re just gonna get drunk and scream at the sky? Really?” Emery huffed and walked away. “Classy.”

He dried out in time to go to church with Emery on Sunday morning, the sanctuary feeling much smaller than it had during their private ceremony the week before. The reverend commented on his change of facial hair and Sam smiled at the implication that he didn’t need to impress Emery anymore. He had already landed her. Sam cocked his head and took a few deep breaths, his shoulders and lungs straining as if in a vice, desperate he excused himself from the coffee hour crowd and into the stark gray morning.

That night Emery went to bed alone again, leaving Sam to pass out on the couch as he pretended to watch something in the den. She fell asleep with tears in her eyes and a lamenting prayer on her lips.

The more Sam thought about it, the more it felt like he was chasing smoke. Nothing stuck and his mind felt blank. All of the sudden, he was upstairs, watching Emery peel off her clothes. When his ass hit the bed, she sauntered over to stand between his legs, nimble fingers threading through his hair. That was enough of a distraction to leave the concern for another day.

April 23, 2019

There are days and there are dates, some days suck, while some dates are entombed in the psyche. Birthdays, anniversaries, heartbreaks and deaths: dates that could be forgotten, but usually aren’t. Some that should be forgotten, but refuse to leave the confines of memory, seeping into the very soul. It is a date as such that pierced through, causing Emery to wake up at 3:26 in a cold sweat, arms heavy with emptiness and head throbbing with unshed tears. She slipped out of bed and down to the den, the moment her foot moved from the last step to the hardwood floor, Bandit was at her knee, knowing something was the matter.

Dogs are some of the greatest blessings in the lives of humans, even when those humans don’t deserve their unconditional comfort, perhaps especially then. Emery sank down on the staircase, all-consuming grief over taking her as she held Bandit to her chest, burying her face against the thick strands covering his neck. The hollowness inside ruptured into the stillness of the predawn quiet, reverberating in the large empty rooms of their playhouse. As needed as Bandit was, he was still a portion of her life before, signifying what she had lost and how far she had yet to go. He was reality incarnate, a touchstone even. There they sat, one mystified, one overrun with sorrow until Sam broke their trance as he called from the landing.

“Baby? What is it? What happened?” Heavy yet agile foot falls announced his progress until he slipped behind her, wiping her hair from her face where it stuck in sweat and tears. His eyes searched for injury, for entry, for any disturbance at all. The room and her body were as right as rain, yet she cried, and Sam let her. Feeling not lost at her inexplicable melancholy, but awash with it. He clung to her, and Emery leaned into him; life rafts and castaways in the same storm.

Moments or minutes later, they stood and stretched, no less in pain, but slaves to their bodies’ needs; they broke apart. Slowly they began their day, quiet and uncertain of what it would bring. If this storm would pass as quickly as it came or, if it was a hovering sort. As the hours floated by, each in their respective autopilot politeness at work and in the neighborhood. During an unenthused walk with Bandit, Sam realized just how much he had been empathizing with Emery. It was at the forefront of his every thought, this drilling sadness. Buildings or miles apart, he still felt it in the hidden corners of his very being. Whatever this was, he wasn’t sure he could stand such unfounded torture for long.

Back home, up the dark stairs and through the closed door of their bedroom, Emery sat on her side of the bed. Once Sam came out from brushing his teeth, she tried to give him a grateful smile. “Sorry about today, it sort of hit me out of nowhere.”

Sam inhaled and nodded, pulling back the covers and holding his arms open for her to crawl into. “Can I ask what had you so upset?”

“Today is— just a tough day for me. It was once a beautiful memory, but–,” her voice cracking once more. Sam shushed her as she once again started to cry.

“It’s okay, we’re in this together. I got you,” Sam whispered into her hair.

“For better or worse?” The first time it was a question more than a promise.

“For better or worse,” Sam sealed their goodnight ritual. They fell asleep, emotionally depleted and awoke as if the day before had been like any other.

^*^*^

Read On: In Heaven Lies

#for better or worst series #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam x ofc #sam x emery #simwin

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