#Digging Bucket Tooth

[bucketteeth]

Guide to Excavator Attachments

Guide to Excavator Attachments A guide to excavator attachments is essential for operators, contractors, and anyone involved in construction or excavation projects. Understanding the types, functions, and best practices for using these attachments can significantly enhance the efficiency and versatility of excavators. Here’s a comprehensive guide to excavator attachments: 1. Types of Excavator…

[judeswhore]

trick or treat

summary: jude just has to give the pretty trick or treater his number

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

notes: you can find my masterlist here. i don’t like this :( but oh well

"i wanna go to this house." elena stated, tugging lightly on your hand to turn you towards a house with a red door, her gaze fixated on the pumpkins set on either side of the entrance. she'd chosen that house, you knew, because of the great big "welcome" sign stuck to the front, each word dripping fake blood. whoever owned the house had done a better job at decorating than anyone else on the street and it immediately had the little girl thinking of the sweets she could get from inside.

before you could argue against it she was pulling you along with her, her bucket, already half full, swinging happily at her side. elena was a family friends daughter, a feisty seven year old who you'd been babysitting for years at this point and trick or treating on halloween was a tradition for the two of you. like every year she'd gotten you to dress up and this years costume was a simple fairy, a pretty green dress with fake wings that kept snagging on fences as you walked past. elena was a witch.

"hurry up!" a very bossy witch.

with a huff you let her drag you up the path, your eyes trailing along the windows of the house which seemed so dark you wondered if anyone was even home. elena was quick to knock on the door, bucket held in front of her as she flashed her biggest, brightest smile. her missing front tooth made her sickeningly adorable to most people and had definitely played a hand in why she'd gotten so many sweets.

there was a few moments of complete silence and you watched the little girls smile falter a slightly, her head turning so she could frown up at you. "where are-" her words were cut short when the front door finally swung inwards, her smile returning immediately. "trick or treat!"

the smell of pizza and tinkle of laughter hit your senses immediately, multiple voices overlapping each other to the point you couldn't make out the loud conversation happening just inside the house. the doorway had been taken up by an overly large body, all long legs and broad shoulders, cutting through the light that was spilling out from the hallway. something caught in the back of your throat, a noise halfway between a gasp and a cough when you lifted your eyes and met his gaze.

he was stupidly good looking. the kind of good looking that only ever brought trouble and heartbreak and your tummy was a riot of flutters over the crooked smile he was throwing your way. definitely your way. elena was too small to even be in his eye line. there was a spark of mischief in his dark eyes despite the sleepy look about them, all heavy lids and pretty lashes and you wondered just how many girls had gotten in trouble over those eyes.

you must have been staring in silence for more than a few moments because elena suddenly let out an impatient huff, her elbow digging harshly into your leg. she was glaring at you. “say it.”

the boy in the doorway cocked an eyebrow, presumably about the attitude and glanced between you and the girl at your side, curiosity sparking his gaze. with a roll of your eyes, you attempted a smile, one that seemed a little wobbly under the attention of someone so hot and raised the little pumpkin bucket you’d been carrying.

“trick or treat.” if possible, the boy’s smile grew even bigger, a full toothy grin that did something to your heart that surely wasn’t healthy. he leant a little against the doorframe, hands tucked into the front pockets of his grey joggers. the movement made his shirt stretch out a little over his chest and you cursed elena for choosing this house. why would she choose this guys house when you’re dressed as a knock off tinkerbell in a dress two sizes too small?

“depends,” there was a playful lilt to his voice and your body burnt as he shamelessly ran his eyes over the length of you. he lingered a little on your thighs, over exposed in your stupid dress, and again on your boobs, straining just a little beneath the green material. if your heart jumped anymore it was going to give out. “are you my treat?”

oh.

“i-uh- i’m not-“ you stumbled through a few potential answers, none of which would fully come out because your brain had stopped short and left you unable to form a coherent sentence. he was flirting. you were certain that was flirting and you were floundering like an idiot because no one this hot should be flirting with a girl in a stupid tinkerbell costume. the glint in his eyes seemed a little brighter at your response, his smile more a teasing smirk and he was standing a little straighter, almost looking proud of the effect he was having on you verbal abilities.

“excuse me, sir, you’re supposed to give us treats.” elena’s voice cut through your momentary daze and had you snorting a laugh, your finger knocking her witches hat askew.

“elena, don’t be rude.” you tried to sound firm but her glare at the lack of sweets was overly amusing. the little girl was about as scary as a kitten.

“no, she’s right. gimme a second.” the boy disappeared back into the house and elena turned her gaze up to you, catching you red handed with your eyes glued to his ass. she was grinning manically, hopping from foot to foot.

“he likes you.” she singsonged, rattling the sweets in her bucket until you pressed a hand over hers in hopes of getting her to stop. it didn’t stop the next words from tumbling out of her. “he was looking at you the way my dad looks at my mum before they start kissing.” she grimaced at that, clearly not happy about her parents public affection.

“he was not. stop being a gossip and fix your hat.” the hat was still sitting awkwardly on her head and she fumbled with it for a few seconds while trying to set it straight. she opened her mouth, no doubt to say something else ridiculous, but the pretty boy had reappeared in the doorway, a tub of sweets and chocolate bars held in his hands.

he dropped to a crouch in front of elena and shook the tub. “pick whatever you want.”

“do i just get one?”

“elena.” you muttered her name through a sigh but the boy was shaking his head, that grin curling his lips again. for a second you were distracted by his thighs, the thickness of them as he balanced in front of the little girl and only tugged your gaze up when he spoke again.

“no, it’s okay. y’can take as many as you want, don’t want you casting a spell on me to make my ears fall off.” he teased and elena giggled, seemingly just as charmed as you by his smile. she dug around in the box, brows furrowed as she searched for what she wanted.

“i wouldn’t make your ears fall off.”

“no?”

“no. i’d turn you into a frog.” she dropped a mars bar into her bucket before rifling through the treats again. the boy gave a thoughtful hum as he watched her knock a bag of haribos to the side.

“forever? or will you turn me back if i’m good?” he asked, shaking the tub just a little so she could see the sweets tucked at the bottom. you watched his jaw work as he chewed the inside of his cheek, your attention snagging on the stubble growing over the sharp line and across his chin. you were surprised by how badly you wanted to feel the roughness of it against your palm.

“nope. you have to kiss a princess or you’ll be a frog forever.”

“what about your friend? if i kiss her will i be saved?”

“yn’s not a princess. she’s a fairy.” elena gave him a “duh” sort of look that had him huffing a laugh but you were too busy trying not to think about kissing him. it was ridiculous to be so worked up about a stranger.

“well i don’t think i know any princesses.”

“then you’re going to have to live as a frog.” elena had absolutely no sympathy for the situation, completely unbothered as she dropped her final chocolate into her bucket with a grin. she shook the pumpkin. “chocolate is my favourite.”

“you’re also not allowed it past 6pm.” you pointed out, peering into the bucket with a grimace because her parents were going to kill you for all the chocolate bars. you’d promised light trick or treating but elena was taking home a whole chocolate factory.

“you’ll have to eat it in secret.” the boy told her as he straightened up, his gaze darting from you to the little girl. “i’m sure you could ignore one sugar rush for the sake of halloween.”

“you wouldn’t be saying that if you were the one who had to lure her into bed when she refuses to come out of the tree house.” that earned you a snort and a smile pulled at your lips. at your side elena started to tug on the bottom of your skirt, clearly eager to try a few more houses before her bedtime. you knocked your bucket against hers. “say thank you.”

“thank you for the chocolate, mister!” she beamed up at him and his laugh was full this time, a musical sound that made your tummy dip dangerously.

“don’t eat it all at once.”

“i won’t.”

“she will.” you mumbled and elena glared, pulled a little harsher on your skirt. you turned a smile towards the boy in the doorway. “thanks for the chocolate. you should’ve just given her a mini mars bar and told her to shove off.”

“and risk turning into a frog? nah.” he dipped his hand into his joggers and pulled out a slip of paper, held it out to you with a smile. you took it with a curious frown, felt your heart leap at the scrawl of numbers, JUDE and TEXT ME, written underneath.

“what’s this?”

“your treat.”

[wheels-of-despair]

Best Seat in the House Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie needs a place to sit. Is Evil Woman's lap available? Contains: Eddie POV, a touch-starved metalhead, tooth-rotting fluff. Words: 700ish

There's nowhere to sit.

Eddie slows on his way back into the garage, contemplating his next move. He'd gone inside to pee the second Corroded Coffin's final song ended today's practice session, and returned to find everyone deep in conversation in the back of the garage.

Gareth has turned around to sit backwards on the stool by his drum kit. Grant sits on an upturned bucket. Jeff and Evil Woman are on the old loveseat. Should he wedge himself between them? Nah, too territorial. Should he sit on the floor? His ass aches at the thought of the cold concrete. The lawn chairs are behind a heap of junk in the corner. Too much effort. What about borrowing a chair from the kitchen?

She makes eye contact and smiles, and he forgets how to breathe for a second. Fuck, how does she do that? She pats the arm of the loveseat, and his feet start carrying him toward her while his brain tries to catch up. He perches on the edge; he's so close to her, he can almost feel the warmth radiating off of her skin in the cool garage.

She looks up at him with a smile, and he fights the urge to slide into her lap. She turns her attention back to the story Grant is telling about the vacation he just returned from, and he does too.

Briefly.

The padding on the ratty old loveseat's arm is virtually nonexistent. He can feel the edges of the frame digging into his ass. Damn his lack of padding. He shifts to face the group, sitting sideways and hoping that distributing his weight more evenly would help. The side of his leg touches the front of hers. He eyes the denim-covered thighs just a few inches below his own and wonders…

What would she do if he sat in her lap? He knows it's not a particularly manly thing to do. But it could be cute, right? She might be surprised by it, but he doesn't think she'd shove him to the floor. What would the guys do? Make fun of him?

They wouldn't dare.

A pain shoots up Eddie's spine, and his mind is made. He shifts his weight onto his hands and eases down, his ass landing gently on her lap. He holds his breath and watches her from the corner of his eye, waiting for a reaction.

She glances up with an amused expression. Not tossing him to the floor. Not asking him what the fuck he thinks he's doing. She simply acknowledges his arrival with a smile and turns her attention back to Grant.

Eddie tries to listen to his friend, and he does for a few minutes. Then, a hand snakes its way across his lower back. Oh, fuck, she's holding him. She's wrapped her arm around his waist and stuck her thumb inside his belt loop to hold it there. Eddie Munson, a grown-ass man, is squealing like a teenage girl on the inside.

Eddie's sure the story being told is a fascinating one, but he has much more important things to contemplate. Like how she laughs and says "oh my god" and "no way" like she's truly invested in the tale of Grant's family vacation while she's doing this to him.

And how her fingers drift north a little bit and find the bare skin beneath his shirt. He shudders, and she glances up at him and mouths "sorry." He's not sure if it was a ticklish spot, or his body reacting to so tender a touch. But she leaves his side alone and moves her hand to his lower back. Under his shirt. Rubbing gently.

Eddie tries his hardest not to melt into a puddle in her lap.

He's never had anybody want to touch him like this before. It just feels so natural. Like it's the most normal thing in the world, to be absent-mindedly stroking the bare flesh of the town pariah's back.

None of the guys had noticed. He was facing them. They didn't see her hand disappear under his shirt. It wasn't done to gross them out, or on a dare. It wasn't for show. She just wanted to touch him.

It was the sweetest, most intimate thing he'd ever experienced.

He hoped Grant's story would go on forever.

[safination]

For Your Heart

The End

|Masterlist|

|Part 1: The Beginning| |Part 2: The Middle | |Part 4: The New Beginning[Coming Soon!]|

Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Tags/ Warning: SFW. fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Human! Alastor, Human! Reader, tooth-rooting fluff, Husband! Alastor, Angst Harana – a traditional form of courtship done during the night where men will go to someone’s window with an instrument, usually a guitar, along with some of his friends to sing. TLDR: Sometimes all you need is a guitar and a song to catch hearts…and well, Alastor has a guitar and a voice perfect for singing. The beginning, the middle, the end, and the new beginning with a guitar and a song (feat. Ben&Ben)

I did not forget about this, no matter what anyone says. Part 3 of our delulu Harana series. Also, this happens to be a song that's in English. So non-Filipinos can enjoy and understand the lyrics. And you guys should go try it because Ben&Ben is so goated. This can be read as a stand-alone.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

Monster.

Devil.

Murderer.

“This is a bit too cruel—Isn’t it love?”

Paint drips, and it drips, and it drips, and it drips. Each word embedded with the grief of the people. Each word embedded with the grief of a mother, a father, a daughter, a son, a friend. It trickles down and down and down the smooth, stone slab, and straight into the grief of a widow.

“Someone must really hate you to buy paint,” you say to a love that can no longer respond. “One can cost more than it should! It seems you’ve really managed to anger quite a number of people.”

There’s a bucket and a brush, and that’s all the kindness the world is willing to give. It’s something, at least.

There’s no one to question your reason, yet with the guitar raised above your head, you still respond, “I’ve come for your heart.”

It starts with a simple and soft strum of the guitar. Imprints of the string mark your reddening fingers as you awkwardly play the correct cords. The humming starts with a shy tune, until you find the courage to fulfill your promise to sing just for Alastor.

Only for Alastor.

“Why do comets come my way if they were only meant to pass?” It wasn’t easy to learn this song, especially when the strings dig into your untrained and wounded fingers, and chafes the skin right off your hands. Still, you continue. “Why did your love fill my days if it was never meant to last? . . . Was it never meant to last?”

Each chord hurts . . . but . . . but Alastor’s once warm fingers almost wrap around yours. You need to keep going. You need to keep chasing. You need to keep playing. Even if the bandages around your fingers start to rip.

Are you smiling?

It seems you are.  Alastor would be proud to see such a thing.

“You were my brightest comet.” You sing into the air, even if your only listener lays several feet down the grass. Stopping is not an option.  “Will this be just another memory? An old page, with letters faded out.”

Yesterday’s bouquet . . .

Footprints stain the petals, leaving the colors dull and wilted. Leaves were ripped and torn from its stem, and it scattered all over the dying and wilted grass. A gust of wind, and the ruined flowers blow around you and into the flush grass of other people. There’s a metaphor there somewhere. Alastor could find it.

“Set me free from momentary shooting stars. When they leave, they leave you in the dark.”

How dare he get caught, honestly. How dare he get himself killed. How dare he steal your heart.

Sweet words . . . sweet songs. These are all things Alastor promises you, and these are the very promises he’s breaking. Still, it doesn’t stop you from strumming your fingers across the strings. Each pluck of your fingers opens the unhealed wounds even further.

And finally, the warmth of Alastor returns. The memories of how Alastor wraps his fingers around your own, correcting the positions on the string until you’re playing the correct cords.

He’s smiling at you again. It’s so wide and happy that the edges of his lips reach all the way up his eyes.

You smile back at the embers of what’s no longer there.

The tips of his fingers will play with your own, and his rough and calloused hands from years of practice will swipe across until he finally intertwines your hands. Suddenly, learning the guitar isn’t so important anymore, not when he holds you oh, so, softly.

“They come . . .” Your voice breaks, and the song stops with a halt.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The wrappings around your fingers stain red. You watch as patches of blood spread all around your raw fingers.

Once more, you place your hands back across the strings. Stopping is not an option. Not when he’s finally holding you with the softest of touches. The smallest of smiles. It’s nothing compared to the ones Alastor hangs on your face . . . still, it’s something.

You take a deep breath and continue. “…Then end.”

Alastor places a hand on your face, swiping his thumb up and down. It forces you to lean into the embers of his touch.

“What should I say, dear, for you to remain here?”

The strumming of your fingers keeps going, never once stopping its feverish pace. The music captures you in a frenzy, and you sing, filled to the brim with the ruins of your love.

“And though these nights are turning gray. Still, I am thankful for what's passed. I know there may come a day when I will finally understand . . . that it was never meant to last” You lean your head across the headstone. “Was it never meant to last?”

It’s love.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

And all that love gathers into the corner of your fingers, and it drips, and it drips, and it drips.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

[spnbabe67]

FMLYHM

Kinktober Day 2: Rough Sex (J.S.)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Fem Original Character

Warnings: Smut, slapping, spanking, choking (hand just on the neck) rough sex, language

Summary: Tatum and Hangman butted heads during their time at Top Gun, but when they are both called back for some unknown mission, tensions finally come to a head

Word Count: 3469

Tatum hated her call sign. Popular media would have you believe that callsigns have some badass origin, but in reality the kick ass nicknames often have the most embarrassing and enraging backstories. ‘Ice’ in theory sounds cool, mysterious even, like she was this cold, calm and collected person. If only that were the case. Enter her arch nemesis: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. Whoever said that hazing ends in college was dead wrong. Barrack living isn’t pleasant, especially when during the first week of training she was woken up by a bucket of ice water dumped on her head by none other than Top Gun's golden boy. This event sparked a rivalry spanning the entirety of their time training. Back and forth, both Tatum and Jake took verbal, and in the case of dog fighting exercises, literal shots at one another, even going so far as to carry out physical pranks not unlike the inciting incident. By the time of graduation, as far as Tatum was concerned, if she never saw Jake again it’d be too soon. When she got correspondence she was being called back to San Diego something in her gut told her that that “too soon” was about to come to fruition.

The Hard Deck was already bustling by the time Tatum trudged through it's doors. The warm maritime breeze off the Pacific was a welcome change from the cold waters off Norfolk. She had to dig into the back of her closet to find clothes suited for warmer weather, including the pair of shorts and spaghetti strap tank she currently sported. It felt good to be back, Penny providing a familiar face as she approached the bar.

“Hey lovely, welcome back!” Penny didn't even have to ask before plinking two shot glasses down on the bar, filling them to almost overflowing with whiskey. She watched Penny grab one, sliding the other to Tatum. “You look like you could use it.” Tatum gave Penny a knowing smirk and a wink before they both tossed back their shots, Tatum savoring the burn on the way down.

Just then the doors slammed open, signaling the arrival of more evening patrons. Tatum glanced over her shoulder, blue eyes going wide as Jake sauntered in followed closely by Coyote. Tatum ducked back down, sucking on a tooth. Penny gave her a knowing look before refilling her shot glass, stating it was on the house before turning to a dark haired man a few seats down. Tatum swirled the liquor in the glass, eyeing Hangman who was setting up a game of billiards with Coyote. 

He hadn't changed much in the time since Top Gun, still tanned and sandy haired. From the snippets of trash talk that floated over the music and chatter, he was also still a cocky son of a bitch. Tatum shook her head, greedily swallowing down the whiskey. 

The clanging of the bell above the bar startled Tatum from her trip down memory lane, looking over to see the dark haired man Penny had been conversing with looking confused as hell until the bartender and owner pointed to the sign listing the trifecta of rules. Once the uproar of half drunk patrons died down, Tatum shifted from her spot, occupying the stool next to him.

“You must be new here.” Tatum jested, resting her forearms on the polished wood barrier. “Don't sweat it, we're all guilty of it.”

“You're just sayin’ that.” 

Tatum shook her head, smiling to herself at the memory. “Nope. My first week here I fell victim to the same thing you did.” She nodded to the phone the man was now holding.

The man's eyebrows twitched upwards, not an uncommon sight when she mentioned that she was a Top Gun graduate.

Tatum held out her hand. “Lieutenant Tatum Hayes. But my friends call me Ice.”

“At least they would if she had any friends.”

Fuck. A familiar but unwelcome voice sounded from behind her, accompanied by a heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny Bagman.” Tatum deadpanned, looking at Jake's hand resting on her shoulder, trailing up his corded forearm, his bicep and eventually to the shit eating grin he sported. “You'd do well to remove your hand from my shoulder lest you lose it.”

She punctuated her thinly veiled warning with a smile that was more threat than a grin. When Jake didn't immediately step off she narrowed her eyes at him staring him down until he pulled his hand away, raising them in a mock placating gesture. 

“Simmer down Sally. Just bein’ friendly.” The ever present tooth pick wiggled with each word that dripped out of his mouth, southern drawl only putting Tatums nerves on edge.

“Huh, is that what they're calling assholery these days?” 

“That's not even a real word.”

“According to Urban Dictionary it is.” It was like no time had passed, their verbal volley as easy as breathing. 

“I take it you two know each other?” The dark haired man looked on with a vaguely amused grin on his face. 

“Unfortunately.” Tatum grumbled at the same time Jake replied in the affirmative in that nerve grating chipper tone.

“Aw come on now. I'm not that bad.” Jake leaned on the bar, the image purely male satisfaction. It was like he got off on riling her up like this. 

Tatum could feel the incessant body heat radiating off of him, he was close enough that if she breathed too deeply her arm would graze his torso. Tatum wasn't sure if she was just hyper aware from being on edge or Jake had gone overboard with his cologne but the sandalwood and bergamot practically shoved its way up her nose and into her lungs, not unlike how Jake inserted himself into her conversation. 

“I plead the fifth.” Tatum attempted to flag Penny down but she was preoccupied with another patron; she needed something, anything to get her out of this before she punched the smug look off of Jake's face.

From the way Jake was positioned behind her, Tatum could feel his breath tickled the back of her neck, making the hairs stand on end. She wished she could say it was unpleasant, how close he was to her, but it'd be a lie of epic proportions.

Jake then turned to the man next to them, a lupine grin adorned his features. “She tell you how she got her call sign?” 

At that Tatum felt her blood shoot up from a simmer to a boil. Her head whipped around, leveling a glare at him. “Don't you fucking dare, Seresin.”

“What? I'm just makin’ conversation.” Jake gestured to the stranger. “I'm sure the old timer here has seen, hell, he's probably participated in worse pranks than dumping ice water on a fellow pilot.” 

It was all Tatum could do to stop herself from throwing a punch. She was sure her face was red, her hands balled into fists. “Fuck you, Bagman.” Tatum reached over the bar, ringing the bell so hard it damn near flew off the hook. “Have fun buying the bar a round.”

Tatum nodded to the stranger before weaving her way through the crowds, ignoring Jake calling after her. Something condescending no doubt. All she could hear as she stormed out of The Hard Deck was the roaring of blood in her head, a pounding that couldn’t even be drowned out by the music she had blasting from the speakers of her truck. 

It wasn’t hard to find her way back to the barracks. The pilots with families, or at least significant others, could have utilized the on base housing, but for the otherwise unattached, back to basics it was. Thankfully it was a different room than the one she occupied while in training, no bitter memories tainting this trip around, at least she hoped. Tatum slung the duffel she’d hastily packed in preparation for flying out here along with her backpack onto the floor, collapsing onto the squeaky, twin sized bed. 

Tatum groaned into her pillow; after not laying down for the first time in almost 12 hours even the thin mattress felt heavenly. She was tossing around the idea of not bothering to undress or shower and just go to sleep where she lay when a knock interrupted her internal debate. Tatum had half a mind to simply ignore the person at the door, but under threat of ignoring a superior officer, she begrudgingly pushed herself up, stumbling over her haphazardly placed bags while doing so.

The annoyance that had waned on her ride over and the brief reprieve in her room was quickly reinvigorated as she was met with nearly a face full of Jake’s chest, the smug man leaning a forearm on the doorframe. Tatum scoffed, moving to slam the door in his face but Jake managed to slip his foot in before it closed all the way. A spark of satisfaction shot it’s way through her as Tatum clocked Jake’s wince with the force she closed the door on his foot, however unintentionally.

“Ice, let me in.”

“Why should I?” Although Jake’s foot prevented her from completely shutting him out, Tatum held her spot on the other side of the door, making it so if he wanted in her room, he’d have to push past her to gain entry.

“Because I asked nicely?”

Tatum stared at him in disbelief. How the fuck could he stand there acting buddy-buddy as if he hadn’t made her life hell for weeks, and continued to do so with his sharp tongue and even sharper smile, his maddening nonchalance. 

Tatum crossed her arms, shifting her weight onto one leg. If he was gonna play that game, then she’d play it right back. “How’s your wallet feel, Bagman? Probably pretty empty.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed slightly, a small tell, but one Tatum was familiar with. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

“A hole you dug yourself.”

It was Jake’s turn to huff an exasperated laugh. “How? All I did was tell the fucking truth.”

Tatum’s hands fisted back at her sides. “You fucking son of a bitch. You humiliated me!” She couldn’t help the way her voice steadily rose as she became more and more angry. “You have ever since that fucking ‘prank’ on day three.”

“Come on.” Jake threw his head back, sighing through his nose. “You’re still mad about that? It was a fucking prank.”

“You came into my dorm and dumped a bucket of ice-water on me in my sleep!” There was no mistaking Tatum’s tone for anything other than yelling at this point. “Do you realize how violating and frankly immature that is?”

“Immature? That’s rich coming from you. You cut holes in all of my boxers!”

“I was just trying to help facilitate you being the manwhore that you are.” Tatum remembered that particular slight. Jake had pinned a pair of her panties to the bulletin board in the Mess, so when Tatum had been switching her laundry and found Jakes in the dryer she’d picked out all of his boxers, taking her scissors to them, cutting off the flap at the front before putting them back. “I shared a wall with you. You think I couldn’t hear every time you brought a skank to your room?”

There it was again, that panty-dropping smile. Jake had moved off of the door as they argued, but in his pause in their back and forth he leaned forward again, bracing a hand back on the edge of the door frame. “You ever think I wanted you to hear?”

Tatum opened her mouth, ready to spew some vile retort, but the words dripping from Jake's lips settled and Tatum realized what he said. “Wh-What? What’re you even-What?!” 

Every thought and retort suddenly disappeared and her mind went blank. She was so stunned that as Jake eased the door open and slowly prowled closer into her room, Tatum just dumbly backed up. Step by step he backed her into her room, shutting the door and flipping the lock with a neat snick.

“I think you heard me.” Jake said lowly. “And I think you heard me fuck every girl I brought back and imagined it was you.”

Tatum felt her mouth go dry in the same second her panties were instantly soaked. The worst part? He wasn’t wrong. Her bed shared a wall with Jake’s and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t slipped her hand down her sleep shorts a couple times imagining Jake’s sinful mouth against her clit or his dick inside her instead of her own fingers. Tatum watched the way Jakes eyes dipped down to her throat as she swallowed thickly, trailing down to her chest, the way her low cut tank accentuated her breasts, especially the way her crossed arms pushed them upwards. She kept her eyes stubbornly on his face, resisting the urge to let her own eyes wander. She attempted to rebuild her resolve, huffing a breath through her nose.

“I don’t-I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about Bagman.”

“It's Hangman.” Tatum watched as Jakes eyes dipped to her lips

“Whatever.”

She barely got the word out before Jake’s mouth was on hers. It was a rough and aggressive kiss, all tongue and teeth. His grip was rough on the back of her neck, holding her face to his, the other held fast to her hip. With a quick move Jake had her pinned back against the door, the sudden force against her back causing her to gasp. Jake took the opportunity to sweep his tongue further into her mouth, holding her against the door with his hips against her own. Mindlessly her hands brushed up and down his torso, nearly moaning at the hard muscles she felt under her palms. Filthy thoughts flooded her mind. Images of grinding her clit against the ridges of his abs and pecs, his large hands that were gripping her hips guiding her movements. She let hands travel under his shirt, nails scraping against the smooth skin she found there. 

Jake removed his hands from her, pulling his shirt over his head letting it fall to her bedroom floor. Tatum greedily gulped down air as she finally let herself take in the glory that is shirtless Jake Seresin. Tatum pulled her lower lip between her teeth as her eyes dragged from his face down his chest and his torso,down to where there was a noticeable bulge in his jeans.

“I think,” Jake motioned to the corner of his lips. “I think you got a little drool there.”

Tatum grabbed Jake’s jaw, bringing him down to within a hair's breadth of her lips. “Do me a favor.” She leaned forward, nipping his bottom lip. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

Tatum kissed Jake hard, the hand on his jaw threading up into his hair, keeping him close as she pushed him back towards her bed. Tatum yelped as Jake wrapped his arm around her waist, spinning them around so she ended up on her back on her bed Jake hovering over her. Her breathing became shallow as Jake’s hot mouth trailed down her jaw and began to nip and suck down her neck, pulling a low moan from her as he bit at her collarbone. Tatum’s hands found their way to fumble with the button on his jeans, pulling them and his boxer down just enough for his dick to pop out, slapping against his lower stomach. Before she knew it, Tatum found herself on her stomach, a mouth full of her own pillow, Jake kneeling behind her. 

Tatum heard Jake curse as his fingers curled around the waistband of her shorts, surprisingly nimble fingers undoing them before ripping them down her legs. The air was cool against her glistening pussy, her arousal coating her inner thighs. Tatum was glad her face was buried in the pillow because she was sure it was bright red, embarrassed how aroused she was. She shivered as one of Jake’s calloused fingers trailed up her sides, pushing her tank top up, pulling it off with Tatum’s help.

“Fucking gorgeous.” Jake mumbled into the back of Tatums neck as he trailed kisses down her spine. “Wanna know a secret?”

Tatum could barely make sense of the words Jake was mumbling over the pounding rush of arousal. The most she could muster was a halfhearted hum, jolting suddenly as Jake’s thumbs brushed against her pussy lips, spreading them apart. Tatum let out a moan as Jake’s cock rubbed up and down her slit, brushing against her clit that had been throbbing since he had slammed her against the door. Jake’s hands gripped her hips, lifting them up, up, up, using a knee to spread her legs apart. Tatum let out a shuddering moan as Jake’s cock pushed its way into her, she could feel every vein and ridge as she clamped down on him. Jake moaned lowly sinking in until his hips lay flush against her ass, one hand braced on her spine keeping her chest pressed to the mattress. 

She shuddered as she felt his tongue trail up her spine, draping himself over her and pinned her hands to the bed above her head. “Every time I fucked some girl,” Jake pulled out until only the tip of his cock sat inside her before snapping his hips backforward, bottming out in one harsh stroke. “I’d imagine I was fucking this sweet pussy instead.”

Tatum moaned loudly as Jake harshly fucked into her, his crude words only making her wetter, letting his fat cock slide easily in and out of her. She was shoved forward with each hard thrust into her pussy, her hands pinned to her pillow by Jakes, the only thing keeping her from being fucked up the bed. She felt the air flow before the sting of Jake’s hand against her ass cheek. Tatum bit her lip hard enough to taste blood to keep from crying out. Fuck, the pain mixed with the pure arousal of him sliding in and out of her at that rapid pace. Three more times his hand came down in rapid succession, each slap more stingy than the last. This time Tatum did yelp, but it quickly turned into a moan as Jake set a punishing pace, hips slapping against her sore ass. 

“How many times did you touch this pussy wishing your fingers were my cock? Huh?” Jake growled in her ear.

Tatum nearly whined at the empty feeling as Jake pulled out but it was caught in her throat as he manhandled her onto her back before slamming back into her. Her eyes fluttered closed, mouth dropped open as his warm hand wrapped itself around her neck, fingertip resting over her pulsepoint; Tatum was sure if Jake pressed a little harder he could feel her pulse pounding like a hammer.

“Does my girl like that, huh?”

Tatum’s eyes snapped open, jaw clenched as she fought up the building pressure low in her belly. She locked her thighs around his hips, swiftly flipping them over. She looked down to see Jake looking up at her with a vaguely shocked expression. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand was across his face with a loud slap. 

“The fuck did I tell you?” Tatum braced her hands on his chest, rocking her hips back and forth, matching his harsh pace. She smacked him again, leaning forward so most of his cock slid out of her. She smashed her mouth against his, shoving her tongue into his mouth. 

She moaned into his mouth as his hands gripped her hips so hard she knew she’d have bruises in the shape of his fingertips tomorrow. She let him slam her hips back down onto him, thrusting his hips up to meet her grinding down on him. The way his pubic bone rubbed against her clit had the warm feeling growing in her belly, a coil on the verge of snapping. Tatum dug her teeth into Jake's bottom lip as she rode him hard until finally she felt that coil snap, a keening moan swallowed by Jake’s mouth. Her legs shuddered as Jake’s thrusts became more and more erratic until she felt him lift her off him, fisting his cock until he came over his stomach. 

Tatum knelt, panting on the bed as she felt her heart rate go back to normal. She felt a hand on her thigh, looking down at Jake still lounged before her, sprawled on her bed. She narrowed her eyes, cocking her head to the side.

“This is a one time thing.”

There it was again, that shit eating grin. “That’s what you say now.” His hand trailed higher on her thigh.

“No one would ever believe you anyway.”

[ccastellans]

making memories.

bf!luke castellan x gn!reader

SUMMARY: boyfriend!luke castellan decides to take you to the seasonal carnival/fair.

AUTHORS NOTE: tooth rotting fluff, ooc luke, no usage of y/n, this is very unedited (i haven’t written in awhile so PLEASEE don’t judge)

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as luke takes your hand and leads you towards the entrance of the carnival, the warm summer air is filled with the sound of laughter and cheerful music. the colorful lights of the rides flicker and twinkle in the night sky, and the smell of freshly popped popcorn and sweet cotton candy wafts through the air. the type of vibe that makes your stomach do flips in the best way possible.

luke turns to you with a sweet smile, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "you ready?" he asks.

you nod eagerly, your heart fluttering with excitement.

he gently squeezes your hand as he leads the way, walking into the carnival with you. the minute you walk in, you’re immediately engulfed by all the people. it makes you a little nervous being around so many people at once.

you’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts as luke turns to you and says “don’t worry”. sometimes it’s as if the boy could read your mind, know exactly how you’re feeling without you having to say anything. with that being said, he also knows how to calm you down. usually just simple reassurance, comfort, and support from him calm you down quite easily. who could blame you, you felt safe with him.

you softly nod, as the two of you begin to walk towards a “bottle toss” carnival game. as you look up, you see huge plushies dangling. you advert your gaze to the game itself, the worker walking up to you and luke with a smile on their face.

“hey! are you guys willing to play?” the worker says.

you and luke look at each other and both nod.

luke speaks and says;

“yeah! can you refresh my mind on the rules though?”

the worker replies;

“of course! the goal of the game is to toss the rings onto the neck of the bottles! if you land one ring on the bottle, you win a small prize. if you land two rings on the bottles, you win a medium prize. if you land three rings on the bottles, you get a large prize; as you can see dangling above you.”

luke nods and replies; “how much for 3 rings?”

the worker replies to him; “15 dollars! cash only.”

you quickly turn to luke and whisper; “isn’t that too much? you don’t have to—“

you’re suddenly interrupted by luke narrowing his eyes at you and speaking;

“relax, relax! im not gonna go broke just from spending 15 dollars.” he jokes, and presses a soft kiss to your cheek before digging 15 dollars out of his pocket and handing it to the worker.

the worker takes the money and hands luke a small bucket filled with 3 rings, mouthing a small “good luck!” before moving out of the way for luke to throw the rings at the bottles.

you let go of his hand, not wanting to mess him up as he’s trying to win a prize. you stand to the side and watch.

luke giggles as he says “this one’s for you!” before tossing the ring at one of the bottles.

you think he’d miss; i mean it would be pretty ironic if he said that and then missed. but actually, he landed one!

the outer corners of your lips twist up into an excited smile.

“booyah! i did it!” he loudly speaks.

you laugh and say; “don’t get too cocky now, castellan!! you still have 2 rings left!”

luke grins, his eyes sparkling with determination. "don’t worry, sweetheart." he says, his tone confident. "i’ve got this in the bag."

he picks up another ring, takes aim, and tosses it. it lands on another bottle with a clink, and luke lets out a triumphant cheer.

you laugh and roll your eyes at his overconfidence, amused by it nonetheless.

"only one more ring, big shot!" you tease.

"oh yeah? and what are you gonna do if I win this last one?" he jokingly challenges.

you playfully huff and put your hands on your hips.

“hmmm. i’d probably kiss you stupid” you giggle a little after speaking.

lukes gaze softens, a different look than the one he was just giving you a few seconds ago while bantering. your heart nearly jumps out of your chest at the sight.

the two of you have seemed to get lost in each others eyes, as you suddenly snap out of it and realize that you’ve been zoning out staring into his eyes for about a minute or so.

“cmon castellan, you have one more ring left! then you’ll win the huuuuge prize.” you speak, with a soft smile on your face.

luke laughs and shakes his head.

he then turns his gaze back to the game, focusing on the remaining bottle that he has to land the third ring on.

he concentrates, taking aim, and throws the ring. you hold your breath as you watch the ring sail through the air, hopeful that it lands on the bottle.

the ring lands on top of the last bottle, and luke lets out a triumphant cheer as you grin ear to ear.

"booyah! i did it!" he exclaims, grinning at you.

the worker smiles and nods, impressed with luke's skills.

"and what prize would you like to receive?" they ask.

luke turns to you and asks

“which one do you want, pretty? you pick” luke sweetly speaks to you. the sweetness in his voice is tooth rotting, like cotton candy.

your eyes skim over the available prizes as one plushie in particular catches your eye. a huge, stuffed panda. you smile and point to it.

“that one!” you say

luke grins at your enthusiasm and turns back to the worker.

"we’ll take the big fluffy panda, please." he says.

the worker nods and moves to claim the massive bear. they pull it down from its perch above you and place it in your waiting arms. it’s HUGE!

you giggle and hug the stuffed animal closer to you, feeling the soft, plush fur against your skin. its almost as if it's a big, fluffy cloud.

luke grins and wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him as the two of you begin to walk away from the game booth.

“thank you.” you blurt out.

luke looks at you and replies with a soft chuckle

“for what? i didn’t do anything”

you look back at him

“yes you did! you didn’t have to get me this, yknow. 15 dollars is a bit pricey just for 3 rings.” you speak

he narrows his eyes at you and replies softly

“babe, all the games around here are pricey, it’s literally a carnival. and i also just wanted to get it for you. win a nice prize for you. and hey, every time you look at that plushie you’ll remember this past moment. ill earn the money back easily anyway.”

you look at him softly, in absolute awe. you smile at him, as he chuckles.

luke presses a soft kiss to your forehead and speaks;

“wanna get some food? ‘m pretty hungry” he says.

you nod appreciatively, as the two of you go over and look for food trucks that offer good food options.

————————————————————————

copyright © ccastellans 2024

all rights reserved. no part of my writing may be reproduced as this account on tumblr is the only place i post my writing.

————————————————————————

[crheativity]

SUMMARY: thanks to two certain idiots, you were yet again landed in detention. As if your luck couldn’t get any worse, of course it has to start raining! But no worries, a certain Hyena has your back.

WARNINGS: mentions of Ace Trappola, Ruggie says D*mn. Other than that it’s just tooth rotting fluff!

COMMENTS: Anndd here’s the Ruggie fic! It’s not very long but I thought it turned out pretty cute. I hope you guys enjoy!

How perfect, you thought dully, staring out into the rain that bucketed down just outside the entrance. As if your day couldn’t get any worse.

Actually, scratch that. Your day hadn’t really been all that bad, come to think of it. Other than those dirtbags Ace and Grim ‘generously’ gifting you a pretty seat in detention from their shenanigans. Granted, it had been pretty funny. Not detention-worthy, but still funny.

“Shishishi, penny for ya thoughts, Prefect?”

You grinned; that adorably contagious laugh could only belong to one person - your crush.

“Hey Rugs.”

Ruggie Bucchi appeared to your left, hands held behind his head and smiling widely, revealing his little fangs. His dirty blond hair was just as messy as usual, and his drooping blue eyes held that usual mischievous glint that never failed to capture your attention and make your heart skip a beat. “Hey yourself. Whatcha doing out here this late in the afternoon?” He crossed his arms, curiosity in his eyes. “Almost never see you out here this late.”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I got detention.”

He let out a low whistle. “Damn, Prefect. Never took you for the type.”

You smiled. “It happens. Still, though…” you looked out at the downpour and cringed. “That rain is coming down fast. Wish I’d had time to grab an umbrella.”

Ruggie raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. “You can afford an umbrella?”

“No.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Shoulda guessed. Welp, you’re in luck then, Prefect. I got one in my bag.”

You looked at him curiously. “You own an umbrella?”

He cracked a charmingly crooked smile. “Nah, it’s Leona’s.” He winked and held his finger in front of his mouth. “If you keep that on the down-low for me, I’ll let ya use it if you want.”

“Really?!” Your eyes lit up with hope, and you could’ve sworn his expression softened for a second, before returning to his signature cheeky grin.

“‘Course!” He grabbed his bag and, after digging around for a while, pulled out a black umbrella. “Take it.” He held it out to you, but you hesitated.

“Are you sure? We could both share it. That way we’d both stay dry.”

He looked startled for a moment, an almost unnoticeable pink briefly dusting his cheeks before he recovered and smiled. “Nah, I got errands to run. You should head back to Ramshackle before this rain gets any worse.”

“Alright, if you’re sure… thanks, Ruggie!” You reached to take the umbrella.

As you took the umbrella, your hand brushed his. For a split second, it looked as though Ruggie had been jolted by static electricity. Then, he shakily laughed it off, shrugging off his jacket and lifting it over his head.

“Welp, gotta go, later Prefect!” He smiled, a little nervously, and plunged into the rain.

Warmth spread over your face as you watched him disappear with a smile. Maybe one day you’d be able to have a conversation where he didn’t try to escape before the end.

Not yet, but soon.

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[stoutguts]

A Pint of Comfort (💀🧼) PART 1

(first time rlly writing a full length fic like this, so be nice okay?)

Tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, the definition of hurt/comfort, mutual pining (kind of?????/just barely (idk, I'm kind of bad with tropes), lots of crying (and suggestive kissing), Ghost has Astraphobia,—Johnny helps Simon through a PTSD episode, while also finally getting a much needed point across 💖

possible CW/TW for PTSD, flashbacks, Ghost's canon backstory, very subtly implied NSFW at the very end lmao, and implied parental/child ab*se

It’s a stormy Saturday evening, and all seems well.

The quiet swooshing and howling of the wind, the symphony of raindrops pelting down on the streets,—on the roofs of houses. Only interrupted by the occasional low rumbling, with lightning dancing across and lighting up the dark sky.

The only downside is the slightly gloomy and depressing atmosphere. Caused by those nasty gray, dark storm clouds clogging up the sky like a fatty artery.

Rearing their ugly heads.

Soap has always enjoyed weather like this,—in his youth he’d always found it peaceful. He doesn’t know exactly why, but he’s always thought Mother Nature was something behold.

He just takes a minute to watch the rain underneath the shitty awning outside the tavern. Somewhat entranced.

He had met up with Price, Nikolai, Gaz, and Roach for drinks earlier that afternoon. (Having nothing better to do). (After all, he already had visited his sisters and family up in Scotland, and all of them still happened to be on leave,—so why not)? Though he hadn’t drank all that much, as,—according to him,—he “just wasn’t feeling it today”. (In actuality, he was worried about Ghost).

Johnny only having just wrapped up, and parted ways with everyone.

Nik and Price left together, while Kyle and Gary were joined at the hip as they walked out of the bar—as was customary. Usually he would be going home with Simon,—but today he was by himself.

Ghost was gonna tag along and go, but ultimately (and reluctantly) decided against it.

It wasn’t because they were feeling antisocial or that he didn’t want to go, (as that’s typical). (Though then again, Simon had stopped being such a recluse long ago, and it wouldn’t have bailed on them just for that). They were just sick with a 102.9 fever, and some nasty flu-like symptoms.

In fact, Ghost was bummed out about not being able to go.

“Ye need to get sum rest, I dinnae want ye to die on mae here”, Soap says firmly, though half-joking on that last part.

“I’m perfectly aw’righttttt,—seriously,—pleaseee?“, Simon replies deliriously, attempting to sit up in bed. Slurring it’s words, with it’s accent as thick as tar. Though equally exaggerating their tone and voice playfully, to sound exasperated.

*HA-choo!*

“Ye most certainly are naw—Just please,—*sigh*—get sum rest for mae sake…please?”, Johnny pleads, already exhausted, as he lays Ghost back down. Wringing out the washcloth, having dipped it into the bucket of ice water next to their bed, before placing it back over his forehead.

“…..Fine…”, Simon grumbles tiredly, finally giving up, (after half an hour of whining and insisting that they’re okay to go). Completely defeated, it turns on it’s side away from Soap, (the wash cloth sliding off his forehead, and now resting on his pillow). Pouting like a child.

“I promise, mo chridhe, ah’ll be back soon. Dinnae get up or annae’thang, just rest", Johnny coos, leaning over to kiss Ghost on the cheek and bury his face in their neck. Slowly moving his hand down his body to cup one side of his waist.

Simon shudders a little at the touch, the smallest, almost inaudible, groan leaving it's throat at fingers digging into their skin.

"Do'ya know when you'll be home exactly? Ya'know…I get lonely...", Ghost says, his vulnerability in that moment hurts Soap, though still (quite literally) refusing to face Johnny. The sultry manner in which they said it too,—made Soap blush profusely…

He pauses for a moment to get his bearings—

“Ah’ll be home as soon as I can, ye know how the boys are…or can be—he (lovingly) rolls his eyes at the thought—Ah’ll be home by 8 or 9 at the latest,—mae thinks”, Johnny answers.��Now feeling like he also kinda doesn’t feel up to it anymore,—but ignores it. As he won’t hear the end of it of neither of them show up.

He then goes to lift off of Simon,—before his partner’s sitting up, and he’s pulled into an abrupt kiss.

It was passionate, and as the pair’s lips part, a small trail of spit remained before breaking off.

“I’ll be waiting for you,—please,—stay safe. I love you”, Ghost says gazing up at him with half-lidded heterochromatic eyes, before moving it’s gaze elsewhere and laying back down.

“Aye, I will. Love ye too”, Soap says with a chuckle, briefly brushing his hand through the tiny blonde hairs of their buzzed head.

Johnny could have sworn he heard him snoring, fast asleep, just before walking out the door.

“Poor thang. Tha’ bug’s really taking a lot out of ‘em”, he thinks to himself as he leaves.

Stay tuned for the other parts! (Breaking this up into parts, as it's kind of a long one).

Part 2 will probably be up by tomorrow!

[redd956]

1700s-1800s Military Whump Prompt List

Getting stabbed by a bayonet

Medic bunching up tons of bandages/gauze against a heavily bleeding wound, ignoring the sounds of whumpee's agony

Whumpee falling off of their horse (and getting caught on the saddle, only to be dragged)

Getting shot but like musket style

Rickety vintage guns going off accidentally, and blowing a brand new hole in whumpee

Whumpee was so heavily focused on the dangers of guns that they completely forgot about the dangers of getting stabbed

Caretaker dipping a cloth in a bucket of water, in order to dab it against whumpee's overheating forehead, both ignoring the sound of battle in the distance

Caretaker having to hurry on a long traveling mission in order to get something that could hopefully save whumpee's life, only to be interrupted by the enemy

Getting whipped after being captured by the enemy

Stitches with no painkillers

Shellshock from canon fire

Whumpee managed to survive getting a non-fatal cut from a sword, but they failed to anticipate the poison that the blade was laced in

Caretaker having to haul whumpee over a horse to lead them back to safety

Deserter stowaways on a ship that gets lost at sea

Getting shot with a bullet that's been purposefully infected with diseases

Getting caught in dangerous wintery conditions. It all seemed possible to overcome, until the horses died

Ally and Enemy putting their differences aside to deal with a much more wealthier, trained, and populous third party

Whumpee fought tooth and nail for their win, only for a third party to come around and "mediate" the situation themselves

Having to get an amputation for much more minor injuries then what we would count for today

Having no clue where the hell you're heading, and what it's going to be like there

Gun blowing up in whumpee's face

Kicked by steel toed boots

Getting an arrow stuck in the shoulder

Having to dig a bullet out of a wound with nothing but a dagger on hand

[chaotic-archaeologist]

love archaeology-posting with photos because then i get to see everyones sieving setups. Yours looks way more convenient than ours hahaha

Oooh then perhaps I can interest you in these pictures involving the wet screening setup at the dig I did in 2021...

Left: My service dog, Llywelyn, sits on the boardwalk behind the wet screening area. There is also a yellow (kitty litter) bucket full of yet to be screened dirt.

Center: My hand in the foreground, palm up, holding a deer tooth that was caught in the wet screening process. In the background is the mesh of the screen, covered with dirt and debris that have yet to be washed through.

Right: My hand in the foreground, palm up, holding a clap pipe stem. In the background is the boardwalk behind the wet screening area with a green hose lying across the boards.

And this one from 2022:

My service dog, Llywelyn, lounges on a pile of dirt beneath a dry shifter.

-Reid

[star-farer]

the truth will out

Summary: It is easier to forget, it is easier to forget. AU: Graft Taglist: @kybercrystals94 (not the AU you had wanted to read, but is it okay if I still tag you?)

It’s a nightmare, he tells himself when he wakes up in his bunk, flat on his back, fingers digging into the sheets beneath, sweating buckets, panting as if he’s been made to run laps.

It’s all just a nightmare.

He repeats it to himself when he quietly stumbles to the ‘fresher before the rest of his brothers wake up. He repeats it to himself in the shower, when he scrubs his face ten times, then thrice more, just to forget it all. He repeats it to himself when he brushes his teeth so hard they shine, his bleeding gums washed clean with the water he gulps down.

Shake Echo awake gently, shake Wrecker a little harder, make sure Tech actually fell asleep in the first place, Hunter’s probably already at the training rooms. Crosshair still checks his bed, even if he can see across the room how neatly it’s been made. Make each of them a cup of caf: Echo likes it perfectly balanced, Wrecker prefers it on the sweeter side, Tech wants it dark to act as a stimulant, Hunter likes it balanced too, unless he’s had a cup already. Crosshair still makes him a cup, in case he comes back, covers it with a fitted lid to keep it warm longer.

Get ready for the day, slip into his blacks and armor, make sure he has all his weapons. Nod once at each of the Batch and head for the mess hall. They’ll meet Hunter there.

They don’t meet Hunter in the mess hall. He’s probably already eaten.

Jaw clenching, eyes narrowing, fists curling, the regs spew insults and shoot glares their way. They keep their head down, he keeps his head down, sharp tongue behind glistening teeth, focusing on his food. Hunter’s waiting for them. They can’t keep him waiting, even if he doesn’t mind. They can’t risk tarnishing his position with their tardiness. He’ll be punished for it. They’ll be disbanded.

“Clone Force 99,” comes the dispassionate voice of a Corrie from behind him. Crosshair lets the red bucket see his tattooed namesake over his shoulder, raising one apathetic eyebrow. “Vice-Admiral Rampart wants to speak to you.”

It’s a good thing Wrecker eats fast, or he’ll be starving all day. Slipping their helmets on, they stand and follow after the Corrie, through winding halls and past emptying rooms. The facility is being decommissioned. They will be relocated off-world soon, most likely to the base on Coruscant.

At last, they are brought into the Vice-Admiral’s private office, a quiet affair that overlooks Tipoca City and the surrounding seas. Fingers steepled beneath his chin, there is a dangerous flash in the man’s eyes, akin to a shriek-hawk’s. He dismisses Taun We with an ungracious flap of the hand. The Kaminoan bows her head and sways right through the squad who part like torn flimsiplast.

“Clone Force 99, sir,” salutes the Corrie, waving them in as they come to stand at parade rest beside him. They position themselves carefully, strategically: Tech and Echo in the front, Wrecker and Crosshair behind them. Hunter stands front and center.

The Vice-Admiral stands, a hint of a smirk playing on his soft features — Crosshair could disarm him in the blink of an eye, and of all his brothers, he is the worst at hand-to-hand combat. The nat-born’s gaze flits to rest upon each of them, before he nods at the Corrie. “Thank you, trooper. Dismissed.”

Hands behind his back, he frowns at Crosshair. “Sergeant CT-9902, step forward.”

His molars fuse, his lips turn down in a sneer, but the Vice-Admiral only sees the blue-grey bucket and green visor, not the vicious scowl in his eyes. He complies, like a good little soldier ought to.

He knows his position, his squad’s position, only one mistake away from being disbanded and reorganized. He’d had to fight tooth and nail, come up with every reason and excuse he could, called for support from Marshall kriffing Commander Cody himself to convince the long-necks to leave Clone Force 99 be.

Hunter hadn’t said anything through it all, but Crosshair knew that feral smirk stretching across his face was replete with pride and approval.

The Vice-Admiral roves his gaze along Crosshair, from bucket to boot, thoroughly unimpressed. Flicking his eyes back up to the visor, he scoffs and turns around to pick up a holopad on the table.

Crosshair accepts the holopad, but makes no move to switch it on, waiting for the nat-born to explain instead. One of the few strange quirks of the Vice-Admiral is speaking first before any other, a quirk that Tech never appreciates.

“Scrappers on Bracca reported a power surge on a Jedi Cruiser.”

Crosshair’s frown deepens. Did he really interrupt their first-meal for this? A power surge? They're Special Forces, not some reg squad that could be spared for scouting.

The Vice-Admiral pulls out a puck and switches it on. With barely restrained anger, Crosshair stares at the flickering holoimage of a familiar clone in orange-yellow swathed armor, head swung to stare towards his right with arms akimbo.

Marshall kriffing Commander Cody.

Their most recent loss — a CC gone AWOL in their latest mission.

“CC-2224,” smirks the nat-born, “This was captured only five standard minutes back. You are to bring him in for questioning, or have him terminated. Am I understood?”

Crosshair clenches his fists at his sides and hisses through gritted teeth, “Yes sir.”

For another moment longer, the Vice-Admiral leans forward a little, his gaze darting about his visor. Whatever he is searching for, he finds, because he reclines back against the table and crosses his ankles, a smug tilt of his lips.

“Good. Dismissed.”

He ignores the feeling of being watched like prey as he turns his back on the predator and leads the squad out of the cage. Strides down white corridors to their barracks, packs whatever he needs, overseeing them pack whatever they need, then striding back out the moment all of them turn expectant gazes to him. Hunter’s cup of caf still bleeds warm through his blacks when he absentmindedly brushes his knuckles along its curves.

Down familiar halls, past familiar chambers, and they step into the hangar where they split, Echo and Tech in the direction of the Havoc Marauder, Wrecker and Crosshair towards the armory.

If Wrecker is impressed by the array of ammunitions before him, he doesn’t show it, and for once Crosshair is grateful, a headache slowly needling along his temple. The last thing he needs right now is one of Wrecker’s enthused war-cries to aggravate his case further. This silence, welcome and comfortable, they maintain as they load the crate with everything they need, Crosshair following Wrecker’s lead in these matters.

Once the crate is filled, they head back to the hangar, Wrecker opting to sling the crate on top of one shoulder than using a cart. Echo waits outside the ship, nodding at the sight of them and climbing up the ramp. Wrecker thuds up after him. Tech is presumably prepping the ship for take-off in the cockpit.

Scanning the hangar once more, no sight of storm grey and blood red pricking his vision, no deep scarlet amongst brown locks, no ash half-skull and wolf-blade smirk, Crosshair ascends the ramp as well.

The ramp shuts behind him immediately, and he looks about the Marauder, straining to hear the tell-tale ring of a vibroknife being sheathed, the deep inhale that precedes a short but hearty encouragement. But he receives no firm shoulder clap, receives no shove to sit down and strap in.

“Wait.” His voice cuts through the air like a blaster shot, hot and sharp. Three heads turn to him expectantly at the same time. “Where’s Hunter?”

The silence that follows is not unlike Wrecker’s in the armory, welcome and comfortable—

What?

What?

Tech turns his head back to face the controls, hands gripping the bars so tight his gloves scuff together. Wrecker all but collapses into his seat, his head falling into his large hands as he bends over.

Echo is the only one who still faces him, still holds Crosshair’s defiant, ferocious gaze. They can’t leave Hunter behind. The kark is wrong with them? He’s their Sergeant, their ori’vod, their eldest, their—his—he—

“Crosshair.”

Echo’s voice is firm, steady, more an order than a statement.

Not smoky, not low, not gruff, not—

What?

“What?”

Echo’s mouth twitches.

“Kaller.”

Kaller? What? What—

Oh.

Oh.

No. No. No, no, no, no no no no nononononono—

“Breathe, Cross.”

There’s a hand gripping his elbow, he’s on the ground now, on his knees. He reaches out, reaches for another hand, and—

Metal, cold metal, a scomp link, attached to a cybernetic arm.

Not fingers calloused from twirling knives, not knuckles scuffed with bruises, not a palm’s warm muscles enveloping his own slender paw.

Oh, he thinks briefly as his vision darkens and he slumps forward against chilly plastoid, vaguely registering voices bouncing around, So this is loss.

[bucketteeth]

Understanding the Importance of Excavator Attachments

Understanding the Importance of Excavator Attachments Excavator attachments are crucial components that enhance the versatility, efficiency, and functionality of excavators across various industries, including construction, landscaping, mining, forestry, and agriculture. These attachments expand the capabilities of excavators beyond traditional digging tasks, allowing them to perform a wide range…

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 5: Pigeon

Having to play a little catch up due to a birthday celebration Saturday night! Enjoy my "Dream loves birds as much as I do" agenda.

Find my @fluffbruary ficlet collection on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

When Hob wakes, the other side of the bed is cold. He panics, just for a moment, then sits up, blinking blearily at the rays of sun shining into his eyes. Planting his feet on the ground, he stands and walks toward the living room.

“Dream?” he groans, “Where’d you go, love? Want some tea?” He looks around, husband nowhere to be found in the tiny flat above the New Inn. As Hob crosses to the kitchen, busying himself with preparing the tea, he feels a breeze from the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. He turns the kettle on and goes to poke his head out the door.

The door is only open a crack but what Hob sees makes him pause. He finds Dream, but he also finds a truly absurd number of pigeons alongside him. There are birds everywhere. Sitting on the railing, flitting around on the concrete of the balcony, digging through the seed bucket Dream has unsurprisingly forgotten to close. And only once Hob has taken in the dozens of pigeons on the balcony does he look at his husband. Dream is sitting with his eyes closed, both palms out and filled with millet. There are two pigeons perched on each hand, picking over the tiny seeds. Another bird is perched atop Dream’s head, preening his eternally messy hair. Four are set upon his thighs, in various states of sleepiness.

Hob’s heart swells at the scene. Dream had confessed that he used to feed the pigeons when he wanted to mope, finding some joy in feeding them crumbs from a baguette. Hob had taken that evidence into consideration along with his messenger ravens and set up a bird feeding station at their flat. Even more feeders were hung in front of the various windows of the New Inn, bringing in lots of feathered friends to the delight of the daytime patrons. In fact, the inn had gotten a bit of a reputation with bird lovers, who would stop in after a long morning of chasing birds across London. Hob had invested way too much money into the venture, just to make his Dream happy. He didn’t care how much money he had to spend to help Dream cope with life, it was just a lucky strike that the birds were a hit. Hob smiled, taking in the sight of his Dream, finally content in this moment.

He heard the kettle shut off, interrupting his admiration of his love. He turns from the door and pours the hot water into their mugs. Dream’s has a drawing of a pigeon wearing sunglasses with text below reading, “Stay Coo” and his own reading, “World’s Okayest Professor,” a gift from one of his PhD students. He takes in the scent of the tea, growing richer every second it steeps. He adds sugar to each mug, pouring in three spoonfuls for Dream, then opens the fridge to produce the cream. Again, he adds a heavy dollop to his husband’s mug.

Who would’ve thought such a broody man would have such a sweet tooth? He thinks, shaking his head and smiling. Grabbing both of the mugs, he heads back toward the door. Sliding it open as slow as he can as to not disturb the birds, he slips out and shoos the birds from his chair. He sets the mugs down on the small table between the two chairs. Dream cracks an eye open, birds still pecking away at the seeds.

“Hello, Hob,”

“Good morning love,” Hob leans toward Dream to plant a kiss on his cheek. The birds are unbothered by this behavior, used to Hob’s need to shower his husband with kisses and touches. All of Dream’s regulars have names, though Hob still has a hard time telling them all apart. “Didn’t expect you’d be out with the birds this early.”

“I found myself in need of some peace and did not desire to wake you.”

“You know you can wake me any time, duck. No matter what,” Hob takes a sip of his tea. “But I’m glad the birds help too.”

“Indeed. Thank you for the tea, my love.” Dream lowers one hand, pigeons fluttering back to the railing. He reaches for the tea and takes a long draught. “Perfect as usual. I would not expect anything less.” Dream turns his head and smiles the smile only Hob has the privilege to see, his lips turning up slightly higher on the right. Hob just smiles and shakes his head.

“I love you, you know that?”

“Yes. As do I. Thank you for caring for me as you do.”

“Of course, dove, all I want is for you to be happy.” Hob reaches out to grab Dream’s hand and squeezes.

Dream looks around at the pigeons, then into Hob’s eyes.

“I am. And I know that if I am not, I will be again.” He leans in to press a kiss to Hob’s lips, scaring the pigeons still left on his head and legs off to the railing. “Let us go inside for breakfast.”

Hob rises, grabbing their mugs before Dream can, smiling all the way back to the table.

[modern-inheritance]

Trick or treat! A person in what looks to be an Arya cosplay is standing on the doorstep, a little anxious looking and really hoping its not too late

A hand descends onto your head and ruffles your hair as if you are very much a child.

"Nicely done, kid." The bared tooth smile, full of pointy canines and bladed premolars, is positively glowing. "Got the scars right and everything! Shit, you're the first me I've seen! I've had seven Eragons and eighteen Murtaghs so far, but finally have one me! And better quality than the others, let me tell you!"

Arya looks around conspiratorially and motions to Firnin inside, who promptly settles his haunches against the door leading back into the compound to block any view. "Ait, here." The elf tips the rest of her still half-full bucket into your bag. Chucking it aside, she digs into one of her leg pouches and drops a walnut handled and jasper inlaid pocket knife in as well, shuffling some of the candy around to cover it. "Don't fuckin' tell on me, yeah? I'm not supposed to give out sharp things."

As you wander away, clutching the bag to your chest and giddy at meeting the craziest elf on the continent, you hear some discussion at your back.

"BaaaAAABE! I need more caannddy!"

"Stop giving it to Firnen!"

"Gasp! Are you calling my sweet, sweet Stringbean fat?"

"What?! NO! OW! Saphira, I WASN'T! OW!! Uncle! UNCLE! YES FIRNEN IS THE HANDSOMEST DRAGON IN THE–THORN PLEASE, NO–"

Chaos Trio indeed!

[cyberneticlagomorph]

first prev

The stream continues and what follows is a blur of colors and activity.

Cousin Liam pulls the group this way and that, up the museum's spiral and back down again in a seemingly random arrangement as he talks the entire time.

Liam ducks into an incredibly small tunnel halfway up the wall, its entrance no bigger than a quarter. He just sort of... stops being a solid person, and becomes something much more malleable and strange as he filters into the hole in the wall like smoke through a pipe. Liam is gone for several seconds before the wall hole starts to widen like parting jaws.

Liam is pulling on the entrance, stretching it open until its wide enough to walk through. He waves excitedly towards Jack and the camera.

"Well c'mon, before the museum gets shy and tries to close it up again." He's grinning, like a kid that's found something so cool he's dropped everything just to come show you. "Technically I'm not supposed to show off exhibits before they hatch, but i found this one last week and it's too good not to."

The new doorway trembles a little, as if uncertain about the new visitors seeing what's beyond it just yet.

"...the museum just hatches exhibits?" Says one of the kids, probably Zeb.

"Well, yes," Says Liam, rubbing his palms together until a ball of light forms and starts to float away and illuminate the space. "I'm sure your house hatches new rooms when you need them, the museum does the same."

The un-hatched exhibit is... it simply IS...

The walls are striped with rainbows of soil horizons, a myriad of impossible colors in dense layers that do and do not make sense in ways that are really hard to describe.

There's a wall dedicated to Wonderland, showing the layers from grass to bedrock interspersed with rocks and fossils, dense tea deposits, and pottery sherds. The fossils here are made of ceramic that gets more and more ornate the farther down you go, under layers of volcanic rock are the shapes of strange birds and proto fae forever preserved in blue and white china swirls.

On Candyland's wall is a some sort of dinosaur skeleton made from butterscotch candy, speckled with lint, old coins, and long white hairs like it's been rolling around at the bottom of Nana's purse since it died. The dinosaur itself is strange... its no recognizable earthly species, and seems to be some sort of early draconic ancestor.

There's more and more on every wall, a slice taken from every country and continent, more fossils and figures hewn from materials more strange than the last.

There are little dig pits full of cool rocks, and tiny fossils surrounding a mining sluice. There are child sized mining helmets, shovels, picks, buckets and brushes for people to excavate their own finds and take them home.

Even Liam looks amazed as he pokes around in one of the dig pits and comes back with a porcelain tooth of some kind. He lets out a long low whistle, "I knew the museum had something big planned but I didn't expect it to be anything like this."

"Are... are we allowed to dig around in here or should we leave? You did say this exhibit wasn't ready." Jack says, watching Egg try to bury one of her siblings in a pit.

Liam shrugs, "I wouldn't, not at least until we can find a curator to take care of it first."

"Oh, should be leave then?" Jack rescues her children from their live burial and confines Egg to a stroller. Egg hisses about it and tries to pull a knife.

Liam Shrugs again, tossing the tooth her found back into the pit, "Yeah probably, do want y'all getting in trouble on my account."

The group turns to see a figure standing in the new doorway, several feet taller than the average human. Vaguely humanoid but only vaguely, more like a shape with eyes than an actual person with a face.

Liam freezes, an uneasy smile curving its way across his face as his ears flick back, "H-hey boss, fancy meeting you here..."

The shape tilts its head to one side and squints in a way that seems to say 'I work here, why wouldn't you see me where I work?'

"y-yeah about that, this is my cousin Prince Jack and her family, I just wanted to show them around the museum and we got a little distracted... honest!" His hands go up like he's trying to calm a startled animal

The figure looks around, stretching out some sort of limb so it can touch one of the dirt walls in a way that is remarkably tender. It looks back at Liam and tilts its head in a different direction 'This exhibit is unfinished and unmanned, please come back later' its big blank eyes say before it grows a hand in order to snap its fingers.

Everything seems to blink out of exisitence for just a moment, and the group find themselves standing outside of a different exhibit that's a little crowded with people. The sign over the door reads 'The Golden Age of Draking'.

Jack looks at the sign and then at Liam, "What was that?"

"Oh, that was my boss, the Curator, they're like a... projection of the museum itself? Kind of like a limb, and kind of like its soul? But they're also their own person, it's all very complicated." Liam makes several waving hand gestures to show his confusion about the whole thing. "I should really get back to work, but if you guys need anything just shout ok?"

Liam turns back into a signpost, with feet this time, and scampers off in no particular direction before anyone can say anything else.

[seaofthethives]

Sea of Thieves: Expanding Horizons with New Adventures and Epic Quests

Over the last five years, Rare's been leveling up Sea of Thieves with tons of new content, making it a great choice for players looking to buy Xbox games. We're talking pets, fireworks, and epic quests called Tall Tales that are basically mini-games on their own, featuring crossovers with The Secret of Monkey Island and Pirates of the Caribbean. Now, you can stumble upon all kinds of adventures everywhere—in shipwrecks, caves, and cool locations—so you can just cruise around, find cool stuff, and dive into side quests. It's like the pirate version of Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom.

Seamless Cross-Play and Cooperative Adventures

The PlayStation 5 is finally getting in on the action with Sea of Thieves, joining the lineup of Microsoft games hitting Sony's console. Newbies are gonna find a perfect match to the Xbox version, with all those gorgeous visuals, like the super realistic water, lit sunsets, and tropical vibes. Seasoned players can easily sync their Xbox accounts, and cross-play with PC and other consoles is a breeze. You start by picking a boat, inviting friends, or joining a random crew, and then you're off. Yeah, you're still collecting loot and building rep with different guilds while stealing from other players, but there's so much extra fun. My kids and I spent way too much time at Dagger Tooth outpost, throwing buckets of puke at each other. We took tons of screenshots, especially when I crashed our ship into a pier and they had to take pics of their characters pointing at the wreck. This game is all about the goofy moments and having a blast.

Enhancements and Cross-Platform Play Coming to Sea of Thieves

If you're not into the whole social pirate thing, you can totally play solo on a sloop. There's even a safer waters mode on a private server where you won't get jumped by other players looking to steal your loot. And for PS5 newbies feeling overwhelmed by all the content, Rare's got your back with an easy maiden voyage tutorial mode that covers the basics. They’ve also upgraded the UI and onscreen messaging throughout the game, making quest selection screens more detailed—handy if you’ve only got a little time to game with your buddies. Before you know it, PS5 pirates will be joining their Xbox pals in crazy adventures.

Cross-Platform Adventures with Seamless Progress

Playing solo in combat encounters can be a tense ride. If you come across another lone player, it’s thrilling trying to balance repairing your ship with taking them down. But facing off against a group is overwhelming; sometimes your best bet is to hightail it out of there and hope they let you be. It's beyond frustrating to spend time on quests, load up on loot, head to cash in, only to get jumped at the last minute and lose it all. Sea of Thieves on PS5 comes with some cool PlayStation upgrades like DualSense haptics, adaptive triggers, and built-in mic chat, plus trophy support. Returning players will love that their progress carries over from other versions, and you can team up with pals on Xbox or PC. Getting Xbox achievements on my phone when I scored a trophy was a nice touch—it shows how seamless things are getting across platforms.

Sea of Thieves in 2024 Offers Imaginative Fun and Unique Sandbox Experience

While Sea of Thieves isn’t as complex as a traditional RPG or MMO (you can’t upgrade your weapons or boat—everyone gets the same gear), it offers a unique role-play experience somewhere between acting and childlike make-believe. You're pirates on the high seas, fighting sea monsters and digging up treasure, but also goofing around, playing instruments together, or launching each other out of cannons. Whether you’re on PS5, Xbox, or PC, Sea of Thieves in 2024 delivers its own brand of imaginative fun, free from the grind of skill trees and leveling up. You’ll laugh, sail, and drink grog until you’re sick. It's a unique sandbox experience and a true gem.