#Duty Belt pouches

[koreessentials]

KORE Micro Adjustable Battle Belt Setup 

KORE Essentials introduces the World’s First Micro Adjustable Battle Belt. Now for the first time ever, you can loosen or tighten your battle belt, in tiny increments, while walking, running or even crawling thru the mud, without ever undoing the buckle. The result = the Best-Fitting, Most Adjustable Molle Belt you'll ever wear! A track sewn into the back of the belt creates 20+ micro sizing positions to adjust in 1/4" increments. Plus it’s equipped with our indestructible, solid Power-Core�� center to support all the gear you can handle, while at the same time, providing ultra flexibility for total comfort. It’s a game changer for sure. Kore battle belts fit any waist from 24" up to 48”, feature a One Year Warranty & 30 Day MBG. Thanks to OBNXS1 STUFF’N THINGS for the awesome review. To see the full line of Kore Battle Belts and EDC belts visit -  http://www.KoreEssentials.com

[armory-rasa]

COUCH POUCH!! Free Pattern & Tutorial

...called thus because they use upholstery-weight leather for the bag body, that in my case was in fact skinned off a couch. 🤣 Turns out they are relatively quick and easy to make, so I tidied up the pattern for printing and took pictures to document the process when I made another five of them.

First off, print your pattern, 100% scale:

The bag shape was a modified version of the pattern I used for the Morpheus sandbag, but sized to fit in the roughly 11" squares that my couch skin came in. It makes a bag that sits very well on a tabletop, thanks to the flat base.

Though it turned out to not be the most efficient use of material, because that plus-shaped pattern tessellates well, if you're cutting them out of a full hide, but makes a lot of waste when you're cutting them out of squares of material. A more efficient design would have a half-rounded front and back, and a gusset between them, like so:

Ah well. It's not like I have any shortage of couch skin, though for the next round I'm going to experiment with a more efficient pattern.

First step, trace and cut out the bag body from your chrome-tan leather:

Like I said, this was upholstery leather, but anything that's flexible and ~1.5 mm thick will do.

The flap and front need to be a stiffer leather though -- I used 7 oz latigo, but veg-tan would work equally well. (And then you could ✨tool it!✨)

Cut them out, and then use the pattern to mark where your holes are going to be. Mark the holes on your bag body too:

The latigo pieces get hand-stitched to the bag body, so I used a stitching groover to carve out little channels for the thread -- it's not strictly necessary, but it makes your stitches lay a lot more neatly:

Punch the holes shown below:

I used a ~5 mm hole punch for those, and a 1.5" slot punch for the belt loops. Some of the holes on the front piece you're not punching yet, because they need to go through both layers.

I put a dab of contact cement on the pieces (circled in white) to help hold them in place when I go to punch the stitching holes:

(Make sure you're not putting glue between the belt loops)

Wait fifteen minutes for the contact cement to dry until tacky, and then line up the holes and the edges and press the pieces together:

Punch stitching holes:

Saddle-stitch both pieces in place (takes 28" of thread per):

Now you can punch these holes:

(I used a slightly smaller hole punch than for the others, but it doesn't really matter.)

Now press the right sides of the leather together and sew up the seams from the inside:

A regular sewing machine should be able to handle this, though you will need thicker thread, a heavy-duty leather-sewing needle, and a walking foot attachment. (If you don't have a walking foot attachment, it is SO WORTH getting one, even if you don't expect to sew much leather. Seriously, I use it for everything -- once you go walking foot, you don't go back. 💀) Because you can't pin leather without leaving permanent holes in it, tiny binder clips can be helpful for keeping your material lined up.

What they look like when you're finished sewing:

Cut 19" of lacing for the drawstring, and 11" of lacing for the toggle:

I use the 1/8" EcoSoft lace from Tandy, I think it's stronger than real leather would be at that thickness. The only important factor here is that you need something with a bit of texture and friction -- a silk cord isn't going to stay closed, it's going to slip open.

MANY BAGS.

For these I used a wooden toggle -- cut another 8" of lacing, looped it through the toggle twice, and then made a tight square knot on the back:

But another option is putting a concho or a large button on the flap. The bag I copied this design from, in fact, uses a concho toggle:

Thread some beads on the laces to keep the ends from getting lost, and you are DONE! 😁

Happy Bagging!

[missallanious]

Jojo’s Bizarre Viking AU

Okuyasu and Josuke Meet - Oneshot

Okuyasu Nijimura crouched in a tree, watching through the leaves as two figures approached the stream bank. His brother, Keicho, was on a different branch, also watching. The two figures (one boy and one man, judging by their statures), were chatting quietly and split up, searching the plants in and around the stream, plucking some every now and then and calling out their discoveries to each other. Okuyasu turned to his brother, looking for a sign of any kind. Keicho, for his part, looked delighted, and held up a hand for Oku to wait. At least, that’s what Okuyasu hoped it meant. Sometimes he got Keicho’s hand signals wrong, and had the scars to show for it.

His brother quietly pulled out his bow and an arrow from his quiver, taking aim at the smaller figure below.

Oku knew this plan, and breathed an inward sigh of relief; his brother, using his prowess with long-range weapons, would take out one of their victims, and it would be up to Oku and his close-range fighting style to take out the other one. Then, they would steal all they could from their downed opponents. He glanced between the two people puttering around the burbling stream, and wondered briefly why his brother was choosing to aim at the smaller boy. The other man, taller and well built, seemed like the better one to be taken out first. Maybe his brother meant to fire a warning shot, scare away the smaller one?

That thought was quickly dashed as Keicho loosed his arrow, striking the boy and felling him instantly.

Oku squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away briefly. He wished they didn’t have to fight, to kill, but his brother was on a mission of some kind. And Oku was too stupid to fend for himself, so he stayed.

Oku shook himself and readied to jump down from his perch, to start what he knew to be his duty of fighting the other his brother hadn’t taken out. But Keicho’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder, stopping him. Looking gleeful, Keicho pointed to the tall man on the ground, who Oku now noticed showed no signs of noticing his fallen comrade. Keicho practically slithered down the tree, creeping over to where the boy had collapsed, and quietly dragged the prone form into the woods behind the tree Oku as still perched on.

Okuyasu watched, confused, as his brother began to rifle through the body’s pockets and pouches, dumping things unceremoniously on the ground, searching. Then, a shout.

The man had finally noticed his missing companion and, judging by his frantic steps forward, had also seen the faint remains of blood swirling in the stream waters and smeared on the bank, leading back to where Keicho still crouched. Keicho glared briefly at his brother before turning back to his task, leaving Oku to do what he did best.

Fight.

Okuyasu leaped down from the tree, landing with a splash in the water, effectively blocking the path of the searching man. Who, now that he was closer, Oku realized was slightly taller than himself and had piercing blue eyes. Instinct, as it so rarely did, took over for Okuyasu, and he leapt forward instantly. His first punch landed, striking the other’s jaw and knocking him backwards, and then the fight was on.

His opponent, though taken by surprise and staggered by the first blow, gave as good as he got. Okuyasu found himself nearly being pushed back by the onslaught of blows, his own breaking through occasionally and striking the other’s face, chest, and stomach. The second he had to take a step back, nearly losing his balance on the slick rocks beneath his boots, and the other man made a move to go around him, Okuyasu pulled out his one weapon.

It was an odd weapon, made by himself for himself, and only he knew how to utilize it; a strong cord, with a fair amount of length and secured to his belt, and a strong iron hook at the end. The hook was blunt and scuffed from years of wear, but did it’s job as wonderfully as a worn bone leatherworking tool.

Grabbing the hook, he swung with terrifying accuracy and snagged his opponent’s arm, yanking the cord to pull the man back into his waiting fists. With his other hand he caught the hook as it swung back, ready for another use. The man he was fighting looked shocked (understandably so), and was clocked again as Okuyasu threw the hook again, hitting his forhead with a sickening whack. Okuyasu once again caught the hook as he pulled it back, taking a firm stance between the man and his objective. To Okuyasu’s surprise, the man started to speak.

“Please,” his voice wavered for a moment, and he spat some blood into the stream, “please, I’m a healer! I need to save my friend, he’s my apprentice, I can’t— why are you doing this?” Okuyasu wasn’t prepared for this. The man was staring at him, eyes piercing and pleading even under the blood pouring from his forehead. Oku wasn’t great with words; hell, he wasn’t even good with thoughts. But this man was looking at him so earnestly that he felt compelled to speak (and he could practically hear his brother screaming at him to just shut up, Okuyasu, you don’t know anything!).

“I—we—“ he stuttered, before finding his voice. “My brother’s looking for something. He thinks your friend has it.” He clenched his jaw and firmly avoided the other’s eyes as he finished. “He’s already dead. I….I’m sorry. You should go while you can, I’ll tell my brother you beat me,” Okuyasu turned back to the man and felt as if he was punched in the gut by the sheer despair in the other’s eyes. He lowered his arms and started pleading.

“Please, just go! I’ll—I’ll make sure we leave your friend’s body, you can come back for it later! Just get out of here now, before—“ and then he felt his stomach hit his boots as an arrow appeared to suddenly be growing out of his opponent’s shoulder. Okuyasu whirled to face his brother, standing now, another arrow already nocked and ready to fire. He distantly heard a splash as the man behind him must’ve fallen into the water, but his focus was on the arrow that appeared to be aimed at him. Even knowing that Keicho hated when he spoke, Okuyasu felt that he had to try.

“Keicho,” he held his hands out and low, shoulders starting to hunch with nerves, “Brother, please, we should let him go, he’s a healer—“ Okuyasu was cut off as an arrow whizzed past him, clipping his ear and slicing his cheek. His brother’s cold voice rang out, and a whirring sound could be heard as his brother switch from arrow to his sling. He liked top use his sling on Okuyasu; hurt him, but less blood to clean up, Keicho claimed.

“I knew i couldn’t count on you, brother mine,” Keicho sneered. “You’ve always been too kind for your own good.” Keicho took a step forward, and something flashed around his waist. Before Okuyasu could blink, he felt the CRACK echo in his skull as the stone fired from his brother’s sling caught his brow. Okuyasu fell to his knees, clutching his face in pain, eyes spinning as he tried to focus. He could faintly hear steps around him; in front? Or behind? The splashing steps echoed in his ears and he couldn’t pinpoint them.

He still valiantly attempted to get back on his feet, protesting even as his brother kept speaking.

“Keicho, they’re healers, we shouldn’t—“

“If you wanted to be this noble, you should have thought of that before you became so stupid.”

“I’m sorry, brother, I know I—“

“You don’t know anything!! You’ve always been an idiot, but at least you would do what I told you! You’ve always been a burden to me; I don’t even see you as w brother anymore!”

A strong hand gripped Okuyasu’s chin and forced him to look up, meeting his brother’s furious gaze.

“Who took care of you all these years!?”

“You,” Okuyasu replied weakly, tears staring to burn as his brother’s words continued to cut.

“Who taught you everything, who kept you alive!?”

“You, brother, but—”

“Stop sniveling! If you’re not even going to do as I say then I have no use for you.” His brother drew back, face impassive as Okuyasu began to cry in earnest, begging his brother to please don’t abandon me, please, I’ll be good, but Keicho merely let go of his brother and turned his attention to the man Okuyasu had been fighting. He wrapped his sling back around his waist and again pulled out his bow and arrow, taunting the man.

“Don’t worry, your friend died quickly. I’ll make sure to bury you next to him.” Keicho nocked his arrow and aimed at the glaring man, who had managed to pull the arrow out of his shoulder, but was still clutching it as it bled.

Okuyasu was a few things; stupid, strong, and, if his brother’s words were anything to go by, a burden. He was also incredibly stubborn. So, as soon as the thought to save the healer entered his head, he was as likely to let it go as a starving dog letting go of a steak.

Before anyone could react, Okuyasu had swung his hook. It caught his brother’s arm and he yanked, managing to simultaneously aim the arrow away from the wounded healer… and make his brother fire. Which wouldn’t have been that bad, if Okuyasu wasn’t now in the line of fire.

The shot hit with a dull thwack, and Oku blinked at the arrow now settled firmly in his side. His brother started to scream at him while furiously nocking another shaft, the healer inexplicably also yelling at him? Okuyasu wasn’t sure why, exactly, but all thoughts were effeciantly overrun by the sudden ROAR from the treeline, just to the side of where the healer’s companion lay. All three men turned to the biggest bear any of them had ever seen, still belting out its roar as it pawed the ground. Keicho had time only to release two shots before the bear was upon him. Okuyasu, who was between the bear and healer, tried again to stand, yelling for the other to grab his friend’s body and run. He managed to get to his feet, albeit wobbly, and mobbed to take a step towards the bear and brother brawl ahead of him, when something tugged his arm and he fell back, landing firmly ion the grasp of the healer who quickly placed a vial of.. something, to Oku’s lips. He was too surprised to do anything but drink, and when the healer grabbed the arrow in his side and pulled, he let out a surprised yelp. He grabbed at his side, but was amazed to find that there was no pouring blood. No pain. And, amazingly, no hole in his side. The only sign that the arrow had, in fact, been inside his body, was the torn bloody clothing and bloody arrow now bobbing downstream. Okuyasu turned his scarred face to the healer, who seemed to be a bit pale.

“Why did you save me?” Oku couldn’t stop himself from asking. He has attacked the man, his brother had killed his friend! There was no reason Okuyasu could think of for the healer to, well. Heal him. The healer looked at him, something in his gaze that Okuyasu couldn’t place.

“You saved me first,” he replied. “You just…seemed to be a pretty great guy.”

Okuyasu didn’t have time to unpack all of that. So he didn’t.

Feeling much better than maybe he ever had, Okuyasu leapt into action. Grabbing the healer around the waist (ignoring the surprised grunt), he flung his hook at a tree branch and yanked with all his might, jumping at the same time. This effectively pulled them both out of the water and across, into the tree line. Still holding the healer, he flicked his wrist to free the hook as he sprinted past to the place he knew the healer’s apprentice to be. Gritting his teeth at the sight, he placed the healer down and briefly met his gaze.

“I’m sorry.” He said solemnly. “For everything.”

And before the other could respond, he turned and ran back to where his brother was fighting the bear.

The stream was now frothy and violent, the vicious swipes of the bear and stomps from both parties stirring up clouds of mud, mixing with the blood poring from various wounds and turning the water a dirty red. Okuyasu hesitated for only a second, before he saw an opening and jumped in. He flung his hook and yanked, stopping the bear from taking Keicho’s head off with its powerful paw, and splitting the attention between himself and his (wounded) brother. It roared again, enraged, and charged him. He pulled his hook back in time to hang it on his belt before the bear was on him, and he did his very best to keep it occupied. Punching its face, going for its eyes, grabbing the cheek skin to keep it semi-still as he went for its weak points. For the bear’s part, it clawed and bit and tried to disembowel him. He managed to dodge the worst strikes, but was still bleeding profusely by the time a shout rang out from behind the bear.

Keicho had righted himself, blood pouring from open gashes on his side and hairline. He took aim and fired an arrow right into the bear’s eye. It have an unearthly howl of pain and rounded on him. Keicho fired shaft after shaft into the charging behemoth, slowing but not stopping it. It reared up and roared again, another two arrows hitting the chest and throat area, before it stomped down, crushing Keicho with a sickening crunch.

Okuyasu would later swear he saw Keicho close his eyes as the bear fell on him, looking at peace for the first time in years.

The bear snuffled around a moment as its adversary stopped moving, then itself staggered and slumped into the water. Keicho’s arrow littered its body like porcupine quills, and it gave a last shuddering breath before it was still.

Okuyasu, now bleeding yet again from the bear’s claws and teeth marks on his skin, gave a broken sob and lurched forward. His brother’s body was still, half pinned under the monster bear, his head beneath the uncaring water. Oku splashed closer, hoarsely calling his brother’s name. He fell to his knees by his brother’s head, cradling it in his lap and trying to bring it above the water. He helplessly noticed that no bubbles were coming from his brother’s nose, no signs of life apparent, and clung to Keicho’s head, crying quietly.

The stream, now calm after the fight, burbled onwards, carrying away the blood and tears of the Nijimura brothers, and the lifeblood of the downed bear.

After what could have been an eternity, but equally could have been just a minute, Okuyasu began to hear voices nearing him. He raised his head, eyes and cheeks puffy from tears and head starting to throb with what he could only assume would be a terrible headache.

Maybe I used my brain to much today, he mused, then blinked as he saw the source of the voices round a big tree. It was the healer and — his companion? He was alive??

The taller healer saw Okuyasu and let out an excited yell, right as Okuyasu burst into fresh sobs. Both the tall healer and his small friend shared a concerned glance and rush to Okuyasu’s side; that only made him sob harder. When was the last time he had been comforted when he was crying? Keicho just used to smack him when he got too loud; at best, he would ignore Okuyasu and let him cry. But now, these two people were — and he had —

He faced the small boy (maybe man? He had boyish features, but some scratchy facial hair lead Okuyasu to think that maybe he wasn’t as young as originally thought), who looked alarmed at having a hulking, bawling, near-murderer give him any attention — and he started to apologize.

“I’m s-s-s-so sorry my brother almost killed you!! I should’ve stopped him, but I — I’m so stupid I couldn’t even tell him not to—!!” He lifted a hand off his brother’s chest and weakly reached out to the apprentice, who gracefully grasped it and tried to shush him, assuring him it was all right, he was fine now, and Josuke shouldn’t you do something about his bleeding?

Oku blinked, hiccuping as his tears slowed. “My name’s not Josuke, ‘m Oku?” He was, thankfully, observant enough to notice that the tall healer had moved to his other side, so he didn’t jump out of his skin when the other chuckled, shaking his head as he dug through a bag Okuyasu hadn’t noticed he was holding.

“My name is Josuke; that’s Koichi, my apprentice. And you’re… Oak-u, you said?” Okuyasu nodded, and as the two healers started discussing something with far bigger words than Okuyasu was used to, he suddenly found himself in a situation where he didn’t know what to do next. He had already apologized, the two— Josuke and Koichi, apparently— were fine, the bear was dead… and so was Keicho. He supposed he should bury him? He remembered, back when he and Keicho had lived with their old village, that there was some custom about…setting them on fire? He glanced around and, seeing all the trees around, firmly decided against it. Custom or not, he didn’t feel good about potentially setting the forest on fire.

He felt someone place a hand on his shoulder and turned, opening his mouth to ask what?, instead finding his lips occupied with another vial. Josuke’s fierce blue eyes brooked no argument and Okuyasu meekly drank the liquid. As before, he could feel an improvement as soon as he finished the draught, though not as intense as an arrow-wound healing completely. He was going to ask if Josuke was maybe a witch, or some other kind of magician, when the smallest among them spoke.

“Is it…dead?”

Oku saw Koichi glancing nervously at the bear, and gave a raspy chuckle. “Either it’s dead or playing the longest game of chicken I’ve ever seen,” he paused for a moment, before turning his head to face Josuke. “Oi, is… uh, do you know where I can bury my brother?”

The healer’s eyes then lit on the body under the water, Oku still cradling his head. His eyebrows jumped and he scrambled to his feet, once again reaching for his bag. Okuyasu waved him off, giving a mirthless laugh.

“No, no, don’t waste your supplies,” he traced his brother’s face lightly, brushing his eyelids more closed. “He’s been gone for a while.”

Oku sat up and began patting his body to check for wounds. Hmm, it felt like a rib or two was broken, and he didn’t like how his left ankle felt as he tested it, but aside from those all his other wounds didn’t feel too deep anymore. At least, not deep enough that he was lightheaded from blood loss. He got to his feet a little shakily, gently moving Keicho’s head to rest on the stream bed, and stuck his arm out to the taller healer, who was still crouched next to the bear and his brother. Josuke blinked his (really, amazingly blue) eyes in confusion, but just as Oku was beginning to feel like maybe he had overstepped and this healer might not want to touch the man who had been fighting him just a few minutes earlier, and his hand started to retract, the healer shot a hand out and grasped his.

Oku must have winced as he heaved the man upright, because suddenly the healer’s eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, starting the same patting routine Oku had just gone through himself. Okuyasu sucked in a breath as Josuke patted just a tad too fiercely on one of his (probably, definitely broken) ribs and the healer’s gaze shot up, scrutinizing him carefully. Oku gently brushed the hands away, giving a nervous little smile.

“I—I should get going. Got a brother to bury. And you guys should probably, uh, go back to your home.” he guestured to the bear. “You guys can have the bear? The fur’ll probably be nice to have, what with winter coming soon, and bear meat ain’t half bad if you cook it right…” Okuyasu trailed off in confusion, watching for a moment as Josuke’s hands continued to pat around his torso and arms. After a beat of silence, Josuke finally glanced up and met Oku’s eyes. The healer froze, then sheepishly drew back his hands.

“Sorry? Habit, I guess. Are you sure you don’t want me to…?” He guestured to Oku’s ribs.

Oku, in turn, shook his head and glanced away, sizing up the bear and its position pinning his brother below the water. He patted his ribs subconsciously, wondering how he would be able to move the behemoth if they really were broken. “No, thank you, I don’t think I should bother you any longer,” he shot a lopsided grin to Josuke, the scars on his face tightening and pulling with the movement, “you’ve already been nicer to me than I think anyone else I’ve ever met,”

The healer’s face did something, but the expression was gone before he could ask about it, and then he was talking again so Oku couldn’t be bothered to focus on a micro-expression.

“Can I at least get your name? Your full name?” Josuke asked.

Oku was too surprised to think of why that may be a bad idea, so instead he simply said “Okuyasu Nijimura,” and the healer nodded to himself, mouthing the name quietly, before he turned back and stuck out his hand.

“Josuke Higashikata, village healer, at your service.” Oku stuck his own hand out, starting to say that, as nice as Josuke had been and as wonderful as it was that he was offering his services, Oku really hoped they never met again because he had a bad taste in his mouth from attacking an innocent civilian and a healer, but he never finished his thought as Josuke yanked him within range as soon as their hands were clasped, and delivered a swift uppercut to his chin, effectively knocking him unconscious.

[b0tster]

my thigh pouches built in snaps werent strong enough to keep it closed while moshing so i replaced them with some heavier duty belts 😈

[blue-sadie]

Tsutey learning sexting with female reader? Or Tsutey’s reaction to the nude she sent him ? 😍

What Is This?

Tsutey x Avatar Reader

Summary: he has urges and what makes it even worse your such a tease

Warning: tsutey jerking off

3rd person pov

He wasn't a big fan of this small device you gave him he found it annoying to hold and irritating when it vibrates or dings with a notification.

The only reason he keeps it is because when he's out on long hunts he can go into his small makeshift hut that he set up for the night and video call with you.

He smiles everytime your face appears on his screen but don't get me wrong teaching him how to use a phone is like teaching your grandma how to use emojis or slang.

He gets frustrated at times or he sometimes his taps and butt dials you or starts recording something without meaning to.

This one of his long hunts its gonna last about 7 to 8 days and he hates leaving you for that long but it is part of his duty to the clan.

He lay on his thin mattress sighing out tiredly and rubbed his face before his ear twitched at the sound of a notification.

He carefully grabbed the tiny device from a pouch attached to his belt his eyes glinting with happiness as he sees your name on the screen.

He quickly tapped the notification opening up your chat, his eyebrow twitching in confusion as he sees a blurred squear and a text under it with 'enjoy with a winking face emotion under it'.

His eyebrows lifted as you sent about 4 more 1 being a video he bit his lip before tapping the first one and it felt as is his heart was about to beat out his chest.

A deep blush settled on his cheeks and he can already feel that his loincloth was becoming uncomfortable.

It was photo taken from in between your breasts looking down to your opened legs he could see that you were very naked.

He silently groaned to scared to be any louder afraid he'll alert the other hunters of his actions, his hand flipped up the fabric of his loincloth letting his hardening cock out.

He let out a breathy sigh as the cold night breeze blow of his cock, one of his hands slowly grazing down his body to his dick slightly ghosting his fingers over his shaft teasing it.

He closed his eyes briefly as he imagined it was you instead, he opened up his eyes again and slowly swiped to the next picture.

This one was of you with one of your hands pinching your nibbles he growled internally he should be doing that not you.

He slowly started to pump his cock tightening once every few minutes to make his breath hitch he took his time with the photos analyzing them intently thinking about all the ways he's gonna punish you when he gets back.

The next one was the video and he eagerly tapped play after checking the sound was very low, you moaning out his name made his ears twitch and his cock to pulse a little bit.

His eyes watching your every move as you moved one of your hands down to your pussy clearly trying to tease him.

"Y-yn" he groaned even though he knew you couldn't hear him his hand slowly starting to pump faster as he bit his lip again his gaze following your movements as you started to finger yourself.

Your cute little moans and whimpers only fueling his pumping hand his eyes became half lidded and his breathing more hitched as he could see you were also about to cum.

"Please cum with me tsu" you cried out as the device shaking showing him that you cam he gritted his teeth as his body shook and his cum spitting out onto his hands and thighs.

He watched through squinted eyes as you slowly turned the phone to show your face which was dusted in a light purple and your eyes still filled with lust.

"I miss you" you whined before the video cut off he panted a chuckle before swiping to the last pic and his cock immediately hardening again.

The picture was of your hand that you used to finger yourself and it was showing off the dripping cum from your fingers.

"Oh the things I'm gonna do to you"

Tag.List

@sweetirilly

@greekgods15

[novankenn]

Jaune et Carro Veloce

Jaune was feeling miserable. His skills were so far below his peers that it was laughable... in a pathetic way. Though his academics in everything but things specifically associated with fighting grimm duties were well above the average. Wonders of the public school system.

So after another desperate failure in Professor Goodwitch's combat class, he wandered off. He heard his friends and teammates calling after him, but he just walked away without a word. Wishing to avoid any and everyone he took the stairs down into the basement of Beacon.

It was dark and damp. The overhead bulbs giving very little usable light. Reaching into his rear belt pouch he pulled out a small flashlight. Say what you would about his performance in combat... Jaune was adept at being prepared for mundane things, like basic wilderness survival.

He looked about, and wandered. His footfalls echoing about the dusty and cobweb cluttered corridors and rooms. There wasn't much of interest. Most of the rooms being either completely empty, or holding boxes of books. Jaune had opened one of the boxes finding it filled with Professor Port's Autobiography "The Heroic Age of the Indominable Sir Port of Vale."

Jaune: Must not have sold well.

Jaune tossed the book back onto the pile of boxes after flipping through it quickly, and continued his exploration. Pulling out his scroll he checked the time. He had been gone for a good three hours and his screen was filled with missed call and message notifications. Sighing he put it away, deciding he would answer a little later.

Turning a corner he saw a massive shadowed filled room. Cautiously he approached, using his flashlight to try and pierce the darkness. Having no success he turned his attention to the near walls, and quickly located a bank of light switches. Flicking them all on he flinched as blaring bright white lights came to blazing life.

Jaune: Oh... wow...

Jaune was stunned by what he found. The room was massive, and filled with artifacts from the Great War and the Faunus Revolution... specifically mobile terrestrial heavy weapon plate forms...

Jaune: Tanks... wow... Tanks on Tanks...

Jaune turned off his flashlight and stowed in away, as he wondered about, his eyes alight with excitement he hadn't felt in ages. While he wasn't specifically a weapon geek like Ruby, he did have a guilty pleasure, aside from comics... and that was tanks. In particular tankettes. While he admired the utility and power of the larger more impressive pieces, he absolutely adored the very much smaller, and faster mini-tanks.

Jaune: An Atlean Panzer IV. A Vale Sherman Firefly. A Vacoan T34, and a Mistralian Tiger I !!!

Jaune wondered, totally forgetting about contacting his friends, which further flew out of his thoughts when he saw it. With a shaking hand he reached out and touched the welded steel armor plating.

Jaune: A Valean Carro Veloce CV33 with twin 8mm machineguns... and over there is the conversion for the 20mm Anti-Material Gun!!!

Jaune was in awe and excited beyond measure as he hovered around what he would call an adorable tankette. Until that revelry was shatter by a voice from behind.

Ozpin: Are you enjoying yourself Mr. Arc?

Jaune: Ah... um...

Ozpin: You are not in trouble Mr. Arc though I was not aware you held such an affinity for... such antiques.

Jaune: Antiques!!! These are pieces of artwork! Form and function made reality! Iron and steel powered by flame and thunder, manned by bone and blood!!!

Ozpin: Please calm down. I only came to see if you are alright. You friends are worried and security alerted me to you entering this area.

Jaune: I'm sorry, I'll...

Ozpin: I already said you are not in trouble Mr. arc. Far from that in fact.

Jaune: Huh?

Ozpin: It is a shame that these icons of human and faunus ingenuity lie here moldering away. How would you like to pick one?

Jaune: Huh?

Ozpin: Pick one. Restore it. Beacon will provide the funds, and maybe you could get others interested in doing the same.

Jaune: This one!

(Imaged sourced from Girls und Panzer wiki)

A/N: Girls und Panzer is a fun Anime... and I get a real kick out of this small Italian Tankette. I want my mind to envision how it would fight against grimm..

[nereidof40k]

I have read Abyssal Edge so many times since yesterday I couldn’t resist rewriting the interview scene with Sevatar and the newest OC in my brain. Just for her responses. I’ve tried copying as little text as I can get away with and retain context.

Hope this interests anyone else than me. I have no idea how it would end, ultimately.

‘Greetings,’ said First Captain Jago Sevatarion. ‘You and I are going to have a conversation.’

It was testament to her training that she did not stand there staring like a young girl faced with her celebrity crush.

Stepping aside, she gestured at the low table with its chairs. “Come in First Captain. I am surprised a man of your rank has the time for this.”

Moving to the tea kettle, she put her sunglasses down, showing her completely ink black eyes for the first time in years. “Tea, First Captain Sevatarion?”

She thought she heard a hint of a smile in his voice, but that might be wishful thinking. “No. Now start talking.”

With those words, and the order within them, business had begun in earnest.

Before she even sat down, she handed over the report that had earned her ire so.

Watching him like he was the last thing she would ever see, she unpinned her hair, letting the points of her ears poke out. He might very well be the last thing she ever saw, and she would prefer to face her death without pretense.

Sevatarion finished reviewing it in less than six minutes. She was impressed. He was faster than she was, and she considered herself a fast reader.

The First Captain didn’t give back the data-slate once he was done with it. He locked eyes with her from across the chamber’s low table.

She began to speak. “This is a terrible report. Not up to standard at all. If I had dared to submit something this biased and speculative, I would not have lived to see the next day. I have a duty to do, and so I am looking for better sources.”

For once she allowed herself to gesture as she spoke, letting her passion for her work show. It seemed to amuse Sevatarion a little, unless she was reading him completely wrong.

Sevatar still hadn’t relinquished the data-slate. “Who filed this miserable poetry?”

“An officer listed as “Khayon of the Khenetai”, who belongs to something called “The Order of the Jackal”. He’s cited as captain of the warship Tlaloc.”

Sevatar shrugged, the barest movement of his broad shoulders. “Never heard of him. I couldn’t tell you if he was there or not. I paid little attention to the Thousand Sons junior officers at Zoah. They all tended to whine in the same way. They blurred in my memory after a while.” He paused, reflecting for a moment. “”Order of the Jackal”. “Khenetai”. What amusing titles the other Legions use.”

She chuckled dryly at that. “Pity. I would have loved to sign him up for classes in remedial report writing”

Sevatar blinked at last, and his imitation of a smile faded. ‘Here is what you may do. You may file this report as it is, leaving it in the archives for future generations to regard as a mild and anomalous curiosity. Or you can delete it, and no one will know or care. If you do either of those actions, you will leave these quarters, and then leave the Nightfall, returning to your dull life.”

The First Captain reached for one of his belt pouches and drew forth a fist-sized orb of polished brass. She raised a curious eyebrow at the sight of the antiquated holo-projector as Sevatar rested it in the centre of the low table between them. The towering warrior rose with purring armour joints as he spoke once more. “You can leave and forget about this. Or you can watch the recording, and get the answers you’ve come for. Contained within are no vital records that will benefit the Great Crusade, no damning truths that will threaten either of the two Legions involved. Just the words of two brothers at odds. Words that neither brother wishes those outside their Legions to know. This…”he tapped the activation rune with his thumb but didn’t push it down, “…is a matter for legionaries and primarchs. A family matter. Not something for mortal eyes and ears, and certainly not the Crusade’s archives.”

“Then why offer it to me?’

Sevatar chuckled. “Why indeed.” His tone made it rhetorical. “Farewell”

She watched as Sevatar reclaimed the immense war spear, longer than she was tall. “This recording, First Captain. If I watch it…” Sevatarion fixed his black eyes upon hers. “Are you asking if you will forfeit your life by learning the truth?”She nodded. Sevatar did not. “Let me ask you something, my Lady. If you were to die tonight… would you really care?”

She felt a cold shiver down her spine at his words. Had he somehow figured her out? Did he care about the blood in her veins, the sins of the fathers? Gathering herself she pressed the rune without hesitation. Watching intently, pale brows furrowed as she committed it to memory.

***********

The hololithic recording faded away, and the device on the table still clicked as it cooled. “Magnus was a fool.” She said softly to herself.

“Perhaps he was,” Sevatar allowed. She jerked at realising she wasn’t alone, though she was ultimately unsurprised. First Captain Sevatar was standing in the doorway, his spear in his hand. Focused on her duty, she hadn’t heard him return. Now the bulkhead stood open. Death was coming, and it wore ceramite armor.

“Some minds are not equipped to deal with the truth.” Sevatar walked into the room, his boots thudding on the floor. With the butt of his spear, he casually pushed the door closed. It sealed with a mechanical crunch. “Perhaps both primarchs were right, or both were wrong. It hardly matters.’”

He looked down at the much smaller woman, black eyes unblinking. ‘You learned what you came to learn. Was the recording enlightening?’ She nodded. “It was.” Smiling suddenly, a rare expression aboard the Nightfall. “I’ve never seen demigods argue before.”

“Yes, it has entertaining elements,’ Sevatar admitted. “We are told it would be awful for morale if it ever became common knowledge, however. Primarchs must not be seen to be at odds with one another. The Crusade’s mandate is strict on these matters. I doubt most humans would care about or understand the gravity of the argument, but I did not write the codes of conduct. I merely enforce them. Sit still, please.”

She was as still as a statue, pale face impassive as she watched him. “Death comes to all in time. It’s been an interesting life.” She refused to beg, cry or scream. “Duty never ends.” Her voice was flat as a gravestone.

Sevatar raised his chainglaive. His armour joints growled in chorus. The chain-teeth stayed inactive; they would rend flesh easily enough without the Astartes needing to gun the weapon’s trigger.

She stared up at her killer, awaiting the blur of movement that would herald the end. Switching to Nostraman for this. “Of all the things I could have seen in my last moments, your handsome face is one of the better.” Suddenly feeling giddy, like she wanted to laugh until her ribs cracked. Like years of watchful tension had melted away.

[lbibliophile-sw]

Proof of ID

Also on AO3 [710w] @ailesswhumptober - day 20: accidental de-aging, "I'm not qualified for this shit" @corrieweek - day 3: "you shouldn't be here"

Fox lets himself slump as he climbs into the covered Guard speeder, finally escaping the top-priority meeting on… whatever it was. Thorn and Thire were also there – a waste, of resources, honestly, thankfully Stone was able to escape – so they can catch him up on anything actually important. It’s not like the natborns listen to their advice half the time anyway.

“Hey Fox, are you ok? Only, you were quieter than usual in there.”

“’m fine, Thire. Just tired.”

And he is, down to his bones. The sort of tired that comes from a multi-day blackout mission that has him ‘waking up’ only to face the entirety of his usual gruelling double shift ahead of him. He wants nothing more than to collapse on his bunk for a solid six hours, but instead, he has meetings, and datawork backlog, and whatever else comes up… Just the mere thought is enough for him to remove his helmet and rub at his aching eyes.

“Trooper!” Fox stiffens reflexively at Thorn’s Command voice, despite having spent the past two years as the highest-ranked clone on-planet. “Why are you wearing Commander Fox’s armour?”

Fox blinks at him, struggling to push his sluggish brain into gear. Why… is he wearing… his armour? Because it’s his? And he’s on duty?

“Oh! Is Fox alright? I mean, obviously not, since he sent you in his place. But I’m assuming he’s with Zontal? Or wait, is he not all back yet after the blackout? It has been longer than usual so I guess that might be a struggle.”

What?

“I have to say, you did a pretty good job of copying his body language. Until you took the helmet off, I really did think that it was just Fox having an off day; most people wouldn’t have noticed anything at all! How would you feel about being on call for a repeat performance? Anything to get Fox to rest occasionally.”

“Thire!” Thorn finally forces his way through the babbling. “Just, shut up. And you’re going straight to bunk when we get back, your triple-shift is showing. Now, Trooper, sitrep. And your name.”

“Uh, Fox?” It shouldn’t sound like a question – his name is the one answer he does have right now – but shouldn’t they know it too?

“It’s ok, you don’t have to keep pretending here. We sweep the speeders for bugs, and we already know you’re covering for him, besides –”

“Thire, enough. Let the shiny speak.”

“I’m not a shiny.” Thorn snorts.

“Maybe not a shiny, then. But you still can’t be more than, what, eight? Nine at a stretch?”

“I’m thirteen. I’m Fox. And you’re being mean. If this is revenge for saving your shebs when you tried to block that Senator’s access because you thought she was her own daughter…”

“What did you just say? No, seriously, I made Fox swear to never tell anyone about that.”

“I keep telling you I am Fox. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Ok. Ok. So, not body doubles, but Force osik. Maybe.” Thorn rummages in his belt pouches as he mutters to himself, finally pulling out some sort of case with a bright metal finish. “Here. I’m having a hard time believing you, because this is what you look like right now.”

Fox takes the case, holding it up so the smooth surface shows his reflection. He twists it back and forwards just to make sure. He raises his free hand to trace the smooth skin of his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, watching the movement in the improvised mirror.

“Thorn. Thorn, someone stole my face.”

Thire reaches back to awkwardly pat him on the knee.

“Look on the bright side, at least you still have your helmet. You keep it on most of the time anyway.”

“But it was my face!”

“Alrighty,” Thorn interrupts the impeding meltdown. He is in a speeder with three-quarters of Coruscant Guard Command, he should not be having flashbacks to Kamino and cadet-duty. “I’m driving us back to base. Then you two are going to go to sleep, while I have an adult conversation with Zontal to try and figure this out. Any further discussion can wait until after those steps are completed. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes Thorn.”

[gnomishcunning]

Re: requests, literally any nsfw for Zevlor? I love one (1) sad old tiefling

i, too, love one sad ole' tiefling. he and karlach own my wholeass heart. some of my own headcanons/portrayals of him snuck into these, hope ya don't mind.

(please send me more asks about zevlor i love him so much)

nsfw below the cut! MDNI

in general-

zevlor's a hopeless romantic in the truest of sense. his entire life has been about devotion - he joined a group of soldiers that you can't quite, he's a paladin who lived by his oath for decades, and he followed the literal god of guardians. he believes in devotion, and that undoubtedly leaked into his concept of relationships

maybe back in his young soldiering days, zevlor had some one-night stands, maybe an occasional fling or two. but his devotion to his duty came first, and he sadly never found time to fall in love like he wanted, or start a family.

so, if you somehow managed to lure zevlor into your bed? you need to know it's because he loves you. even if he hasn't told you.

he's an old, broken paladin. he's not willing to risk heartbreak and further grind down his sense of self-worth, not with everything he's been through.

he's already lost everything that made him who he was. he can't loose you, too.

the first time around? it's all sweetness. he approaches your naked body with a sort of reverence, like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. that this is actually happening.

his attention to detail is paramount. he's trimmed all his talons to a dull sort of safety, he's got warming oil tucked into his belt-pouch, hell - he brings his own contraceptive herbs, if he's with the type partner where that's a concern. he'll eat em in front of you if that helps.

consent is the sexiest thing, and he unwraps you like a present, carefully asking with every piece of clothing removed, dipping his head to press kisses to every new bit of your beautiful self revealed to him.

His hands tremble as they travel over soft skin, careful on every curve he covers. he's constantly checking in, making sure you're okay- can he touch here? caress you?

it's admittedly a very vanilla affair, but it's probably the most tender, loving sex you'll ever have.

he's going to want to top, and gods, how can you say no to that face?

you'll come first. no matter what. he presses kisses down your body until he can attend your clit or cock with careful flicks of his tongue, he'll dribble oil onto his fingers in front of you so he can slowly work you open, taking one finger, then two-

and gods, you just know he'd have amazing hands, right? callused and dextrous after a lifetime of sword-wielding, but ever-so careful and exact.

he won't want to take you until you've made a mess of the bedsheets, and when he does? he wants to take you in missionary so he can reach you everywhere, kiss every bit, and watch - commit every bit of this to memory, just in case he never has the opportunity take you apart, ever again

he's going to do his gods-damned best to insure you both cum at the same time. he'll press careful kisses to your mouth as you fall apart, one hand cupping your chin, just so he can watch your face as you cum

he's not a very loud moaner, but he repeats your name on loop until he finishes.

he gets hella clingy afterwards, and if you two have the right kind of relationship where he feels safe enough to be vulnerable which of course you two do, he'll probably cry afterwards

thankfully, this becomes a regular occurrence for both of you

in terms of kinks? zevlor's a bit of a mixed bag. he's got a lot of things he's passingly thought would be very hot to try with a partner, but he may carry some weird guilt about it.

in kinky, bdsm terms-

i'm a firm believer he's a switch, and he's equally willing (and wanting, tbh) to take both roles on, depending on the night. while bdsm wouldn't be a lifestyle-like thing for him and the majority of y'all's sex is vanilla, there's definitely occasions where he wants to indulge. and they're usually like, specifically-planned and orchestrated occasions, set to consume a whole evening, for both the kinky sex and the aftercare.

safewords include the faerun equivalent to the stoplight system (which i'm still working on), or something simple and straightforward that both of you can easily remember.

'bridle' is what comes to mind off the bat

he's absolute delighted if his partner wanted to take care of him, and yield without a fight. if he verbally protests he should be taking care of you, just say you wanna show him how much you love him. he'll fall apart in moments.

as a submissive? his biggest kinks would be praise and body worship, especially contrasted with some light verbal degradation. he's got some guilt to work through, and it's nice to do that with someone he trusts implicitly. but focus more on rewarding good behavior, rather than punishing bad behavior. he's disappointed enough in himself.

it's worth mentioning, this man is the furthest thing from a brat (for the most part). he wants to be good and get praised, since nothing else gets his heart beating as fast - but if you're being a tease, he's not above squirming and cursing at you in infernal

bondage is a yes, but he prefers one particular facet: rope. shibari's equal parts art form and bondage, and he'd appreciate the care and attention to detail that goes into it.

ironically? you wouldn't need bondage to hold him still. he's pretty damn good at following orders, and he's definitely eager to please. i don't think he'd be into 'good boy', but call him a 'sweet lil soldier'??? hahahaha oh wow

sweet and reassuring aftercare is a necessity, there's like a 95% chance he'd cry in a weird, cathartic sorta way. he's definitely a candidate for subdrop, so watch for that.

regardless of how pretty he is when he falls apart, he'd additionally play dominant with just as much eagerness. just say you trust him implicitly, he's incredibly handsome and attractive when he's in-charge, and you want him to take control. he'll more than happily agree - he's enthusiastic about it, especially when he sees how excited you are about the concept

speaking of- titles. Master sits weird with him, but "Sir" and "Commander" are both on deck. he kinda a fun lil illicit thrill using his old title in the bedroom. it'd go a long way to restore that ole' Hellrider Commander confidence, ngl.

he's a very firm, but very kind dominant, if that makes sense? he issues his commands, wants and expects them to be followed. his rewards good behavior with praise and petting (hair, or elsewhere on your body)

he's got a very good understanding about the lengths and limits of subspace given how well he knows you, he's incredibly attentive about how far his submissive has sunk, mentally, and he'll take them as far as they're looking to go- whether that's just taking their mind off a situation with some sweet tending and an orgasm or three, or totally obliterating their brainpower in a positive way with the paladick(tm) treatment

very into getting his partner to the point all they remember his name, designation, and 'please'. equally as fond as leaving hickies/marks/love bites all across their body, especially where people might be able to see. leaving physical evidence of his effect on his lover is a big turn-on

as equally into bondage and rope as a dominant as he is a submissive. it's a hobby he occasionally indulges in, and he enjoys prettying you up in fancy hemp ropes he probably dyed himself

he's fan-fuckin-tastic with aftercare, it's kind of insane. he's soft and careful, getting you a glass of water, he draws you a warm bath and helps you clean up, and then lures you back into your body from the weird, floaty world of subspace with soft touches and sweet praises. he'll get you snacks afterwards if you need them, and do just about anything you'll ask - from reading a book out-loud so you can listen to his voice, to granting you another orgasm if needed.

for the record if y'all want deets about how he is with a brat or an obedient submissive, someone needs to bite the bullet and send the ask, otherwise this post is gonna extend into forever

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee part 27

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, preparing for war, infiltrating building

So Whumpee reluctantly turned around, and followed Flint back to his team, mentally bracing and preparing himself for the task ahead.

Everyone was fully geared up and standing at attention when they arrived, armed to the teeth with guns and explosives.

Whumpee had his two serrated daggers as his companions, alongside dozens of throwing knives in pouches on his belt. His preferred weapons.

"I won't sugarcoat that this will be incredibly dangerous," Flint said grimly, "but if this plan works and we win this... it will all be worth it. My army will be at the ready when you reach Leader's base, all you have to do is bring the place to the ground and signal that you're out, and I will order them to move in and attack. Everyone know their part?"

All of them nodded soberly.

"Good. Then head out, and good luck to your team! You are the best elite fighters I've got, make every punch count for something."

Jake grinned wolfishly as his team fell into line behind him, following him out of Flint's headquarters. Whumpee trailed behind, tense and alert as they were all given horses to ride.

The whole team mounted in silence, Jake and Reed taking the lead with their horses, while Max and Whumpee fell in line behind them, the rest following after.

Only seven warriors, to infiltrate Leader's base. Seven warriors, that the future depended on. Seven warriors, to fight or die or were doomed from the start.

Whumpee's gut twisted in knots as they rode off, away from the relative safety of Flint's base.

It was morning when they set out, and late noon when he first spotted Leader's base in the distance. It sent his hair on end, the frightening familiarity of the place that had been both his home and his prison for so long.

"We'll go on foot from here to avoid detection," Jake said gruffly, and dismounted his horse in one smooth motion. The other six members followed suit, abandoning their steeds.

It was quite a hike to continue, through dense foliage to reach Leader's base. But at least that also meant they would be better hidden from sight.

But Whumpee knew the real danger would come when they reached the large, flat rock field full of giant boulders and other hazards. It was open and exposed, less sheltered. And after that... would be Leader's base itself.

The trip through the thick forest was made in silence, aside from the sound of twigs snapping under boots. The same thing through the rock field, no words exchange, everyone lost in their own mental worlds knowing they could die today.

Whumpee grew even more apprehensive when the team finally reached the edge of Leader's base, scanning for guards. They didn't see any. Whumpee had given Flint the location of the least-protected entrance they could break into. But still, there should be at least one guard on duty. Or maybe he was misremembering.

He took up a defensive stance alongside Max and a few others, watching for danger while Reed picked the lock on the door.

Once they gained access to the inside of Leader's base, they were met with more emptiness. No enemies to fight, no one coming to stop them. It put Whumpee on edge. It was never this quiet before when he'd been Leader's weapon.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

@theforeverdyingperson

[ultram0th]

I love some of the pics you’ve made of big muscled cops. Do you think you could turn me into a totally massive one?

"Damn it," your police chief huffed as you waddled into his office. "That's the fourth uniform this week that you've hulked out of!"

"Sorry, Chief," you blushed, looking down at yourself.

You're the biggest cop on the force, towering over every other guy you work with. That, and you easily outsize them by at least one hundred pounds of rock hard muscle. You're a wall of muscle, looking like you should be a superheavyweight competitive bodybuilder as opposed to a police officer. Your bowling ball sized biceps constantly bulge out of your short sleeves, and your rotund pecs tore through your tight uniform shirts with ease. Even your uniform pants looked they were painted on, your massive thick quads looking incredibly large as they strained against your uniform. The sheer size of your legs reduced your strut to a cumbersome waddle, and your nearly inflexible arms forced your limbs outward at an awkward angle.

Unfortunately, your super-sized musculature sometimes led to your suspects escaping, easily outrunning the muscled up bodybuilder cop who waddled around the city blocks.

Your face flushed red, your massive pecs out in the open in front of your boss since your shirt had burst to shreds... again. You'd tried to flirt with a cute guy who'd been trying to sweet talk himself out of a ticket (it worked), and you'd playfully flexed your enormous muscletits-- RIIIPPP! Your muscletits had completely ruined your shirt for the umpteenth time since you'd gotten hired.

"Sorry, Chief," you apologized to your older boss. "I keep buying the largest size they have, but none of them seem to fit."

Your boss hummed, deep in thought, before perking up. "Okay, I think I have an idea," he finally said, a smile audible in his voice.

-- -- --

You signaled at the waiting taxi, giving the driver the okay to proceed down the street. As he passed by, his jaw hung low as he eyed your massive muscles up and down.

You couldn't help but smirk as you held up an arm to stop the other lane of traffic, your enormous bicep flexing with power as you moved.

Your chief had decided to move you to traffic duty, placing you in the middle of the intersections whenever some of the traffic lights went out. You didn't mind at all; in fact, you loved it! You got to show off your massive muscles for the whole city to see.

Speaking of, your chief finally helped you with your uniform problem.

Now, instead of having to cover your big muscles in some confining shirt and pants combo, your newly approved police uniform is a pair of blue speedos. You can affix your belt to it, and just put your hat on-- and that was it!

While on duty, your bodybuilder physique was constantly on display. Your plump pecs protruded far out in front of you, your nubby nipples constantly hard from the cool breeze passing over them. Your arms could flex with power without the worry of ruining another shirt. Your bubblebutt shifted in your tight speedos, the back of your uniform riding up between the huge cheeks and sometimes looking more like a thong. The sheer size of your enormous quads forced your bulge out and in front, your large cock and balls barely contained in the small pouch.

A grin on your face, you threw both of your massive arms above your head and flexed, showing the city just how huge the biggest cop on the force is.

[yupuffin]

Reference sheet for Quay ✅ I definitely sat down and busted this out in like three days so I hope I remembered all the details I've been wanting to include.🤣

Quay is a pale-skinned, youthful-looking man with a lanky build. Due to his facial structure and stature, his age is often underestimated, sometimes by ten years or more. His wardrobe consists of several shades of blue, as well as black and brown, and features clothes that are both showy and practical, with many ruffles and frills as well as various pouches and pockets for storing equipment, tools, and beach findings.

Quay’s face is round, with prominent features. He has large eyes, the left one being cyan and the right being violet, though the latter is blind, thus he hides it behind a patch. There is a blue marking on his left cheek that originates beneath his eyelid and tapers into a hook shape near his jawline. He has thick eyebrows that curve upward at the inner corners, contributing to his perpetual ‘nervous’ expression. He also wears a stud piercing in his left eyebrow. Quay’s hair is royal blue, and very long, with sideburns as well as curvy bangs framing his face; he typically keeps it tied into a high ponytail with a dark gray ribbon, though occasionally he is also seen wearing a low braid with a bow tied into it. His hair style and ornamentation varies depending on the occasion.

Notably, rather than human ears, Quay has feline ears with short white fur and longer tufts on the end. His ears are highly mobile and expressive, and are a reliable indicator of his true emotional state. In the relaxed position, the insides of his ears point downwards, further adding to his resting concerned face. Quay wears a blue-green chain piercing in the lobe of his left ear, and two studs in the lobe of his right ear.

Quay’s default outfit features a blue button-up shirt with a low cut to his sternum as well as conspicuous ruffles around the collar and shoulders. The sleeves drape wider towards his forearms, where they cut off to accommodate his elbow-length utility gloves. His gloves feature two pairs of belts around the forearms, and the fabric on the palms and fingertips is blue in color, with a slight texture to improve dexterity. Quay also wears a heavy-duty sash, similar in appearance to a scarf, slung about his right shoulder that features several straps and pockets. This sash is continuous with a cape he wears on his back with a diagonal hem, slanting from his waist to his calf level and cut in the shape reminiscent of a pair of fish fins. Quay also wears a wide utility belt featuring more straps and pouches. Quay wears loose pants that balloon around his knees, and long-shafted, thick-soled boots with a short heel.

Quay also has a skinny tail with a tuft of fur on the end, similar in aesthetic to his ears, though it is often not visible behind his cape.

[thephoenixcave]

FF6 Art Masterpost (updated Dec 2024)

I'm Julia. I've been in the fandom a LONG time. Here's a selection of stuff I've done and made over the years, for your browsing pleasure.

Search the tag #the phoenix cave or #thephoenixcave to see art, comics, and merch all jumbled together.

Animations & Voice-over Mini Comics

Terra and Edgar Keep Watch by the Fire (2025)

"Fireball" FF6 Tribute Video, WIP (2024)

Edgar Makes Kissy Faces during a war council (2025)

Edgar Makes Kissy Faces, Terra's Reaction (2025)

Terra's Reaction with Gau Coloring (2025)

Lizzo "Boys" FF6 30th Anniversary Tribute, completed (2024)

Lizzo "Boys" as individual gifs (2024)

Locke asks how you spell "Fenix" (2024)

Locke is Struttin' (2024)

Lizzo "Boys" WIP 8/23/24 // 8/18/24 // 7/28/24

Sabin Loves Banana Bread (2024)

Terra the Beautiful Gorgeous Angel (2024)

Setzer doing a hip thust dance WIP 7/24/24

Animation Practice: Terra turns her head (2024)

Happy Birthday Edgar and Sabin- Aug 16 (2023)

Terra's Daily Affirmation (2024)

Setzer's Daily Affirmation (2024)

Mini Comics

Edgar x Terra Mini Comics (Edotina)

"I Don't Like that Belt" (2024)

Sketch- little kisses (2024)

Edgar Wants Attention (2024)

Edgar Steals a Book- sequel to "attention" (2024)

Blue Ribbon - NSFW (2023)

A Coin Story Part 1 (2022)

A Coin Story Part 2 (2022)

Learning to Dance Long Version (2021)

Learning to Dance Short Version (2021)

The Road to Narshe Part 1 (2021)

The Road to Narshe Part 2 (2021)

Cheer Up Kisses (2021)

Movie Night (2021)

Walking Together (2021)

Ice Cream Part 1 redraw (2022) + Part 2 (2020)

Teamwork (Fighting the Dragon) Part 1 (2021)

Teamwork (Fighting the Dragon) Part 2 (2021)

Sleepytime in Purple (2021)

Terra Gets Drunk at Christmas (2020)

Not Edotina Mini Comics

Twin Talk, WIP uncolored (2025)

Gerad Part 1 (2023)

Gerad Part 2 (2023)

Sabin Needs a Towel Part 1 (2023)

Sabin Needs a Towel Part 2 (2023)

Opera- Locke and Celes Swap Places Part 1 (2022)

Opera- Locke and Celes Swap Places Part 2 (2022)

Opera- Locke and Celes Swap Places Part 3 (2022)

Opera- "Oh Noo You've GOT Meee" (2022)

Relm's I'm With Stupid Shirt Part 1 (2022)

Relm's I'm With Stupid Shirt Part 2 (2022)

Character shirts - Casual Day at Kefka's Tower (2022)

Sexy Jail (2022)

Relm and Sabin Kitchen Duty (2022)

Casual Day at Kefka's Tower (2022)

Scott Pilgrim Tribute (2022)

Opera- Ultros's Note (2015?)

Opera- Celes Keeps her Boots (2015?)

Opera- Celes Joins the Battle (2018?)

Opera- Setzer Pink (2018?)

Locke Rescues Celes from South Figaro (20??)

Art (an incomplete list)

Happy Birthday Cyan - Jan 3 (2025)

Early Morning In the Figaro Marketplace (2024)

At the End of a Rough Day (2024)

Just You, Me, and the Fireflies (2024)

The 30th Anniversary Tribute (2024)

The Swing Feat. Celes (2023)

Terra Coming Out of Her Well to Shame Humanity (2023)

Esper Terra is Deamy Soft Pastel (2023)

Animated Gifs 1

Animated $12,000 magitek cake

Animated Kefka I Could Kill Someone (2021)

Locke's Selfies

T-shirts - Terra Locke Sabin and Sleepy Edgar (2022)

T- shirts - Edgar's 6:10:50 shirt and Celes (2022)

T- Shirts - Terra's Mom Shirt (2022)

T- Shirts - Setzer's Ante Up Shirt (2022)

FF6 Band - Celes the Diva (2022)

FF6 Band - 80s Glam Rock (2022)

FF6 Band - Terra on lead vocals (2022)

Terra Baking (2019?)

It's 6:10:50 Somewhere Shirt

At Home With You (Red Figaro) (2020)

Sabin at the Farmer's Market

Sprite Redraws Locke

Locke Moons Celes

Esper Terra shakes her ass on White Snake's car (2022)

Esper Terra can't stop laughing

Terra Animation Test 1

My favorite Edotina

FF6 27th Anniversary Pic

Good morning Locke (2016?)

Get the Newsletter (2021)

Edgar's brain is rebooting (2022)

Stuff you can buy

Available at www.thephoenixcave.com

All Printable Activity Sheets

Paper Sticker Sheets

Magicite Necklaces and other Jewelry

Accessory Pouches

Giant Magicite (all sold out)

The Making of the Giant Magicite

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[bastetwastaken]

New fic has been started ^.^ I hope I can share the first chapter with everyone soon, but for now, here's another little snippet <3

..........

As the first light of dawn crept into the room, Atem stirred, breaths shallow and ragged. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

With a shuddering gasp, he jolted upright, heart pounding as he struggled to shake off the lingering tendrils of fear. His eyes darted around the room, seeking reassurance in the familiar surroundings as his hand grasped the hilt of his sword.

The early morning sun filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the floor. Its gentle warmth brushed against his skin, a comforting contrast to the icy grip of the nightmare that still clung to his thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, he ran a trembling hand through dishevelled hair, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart. He could still hear the echoes of the nightmare ringing in his ears, the haunting whispers that had tormented his sleep.

But the nightmare was just that – a ghostly echo of his deepest fears.

With a determined sigh, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feet finding the cold hard wood of the floor. With another deep breath, he released his sword. 

It was still early, the world outside just beginning to stir from its slumber and each step he took towards the window, towards the warm embrace of the morning sun and cool air which permeated the room pushed the shadows of fear from his mind but still they lingered, as they always did. Clinging to the far corners of his mind where they laid in wait for the moments he lost focus. 

He rubbed a hand over his face as he looked out over the small town, the seemingly endless country just beyond the building line. He was alive. He still breathed, and he had things to do. 

As much as the nightmares bothered him, he could never let them hold him captive. If he did, he’d lose so much more than he already had. His hand fell to the pendant around his neck, he pressed it to his chest just to feel the smooth edges of the stone against his skin, a reminder of those he’d lost. 

Just as he did every morning, he dressed in simple clothes, as he washed his face he vowed to make things right. He looked at himself in the mirror, ran a hand through his now short hair and vowed to make those who took everything from him pay. 

A loud tapping sound drew his attention from his past and to the window, to the raven sitting there and regarding him curiously. 

His breath caught in his throat when he saw the parchment secured to the bird's leg with purple ribbon. He tried to calm the once again rapid beating of his heart as he approached the raven, holding out a hand slowly and waiting for the bird to turn before pulling the note free. 

Hands shaking, he unrolled it and read a familiar script, a language which only one other in this world knew. He smiled to himself and plucked a pouch from his belt, tipping out a small pile of seeds onto the window ledge as a thank you to the raven. 

Then he picked up his sword and left for his daily duties.

[scribblers-shadowlands-arc]

I'm hopeless about keeping my house clean. Not horrible at cleaning itself but at being consistent with it.

If only there were a mistress who will put me in a fancy mix of butler/maid suit. With white shirt, vest and some belt pouches, skirt that have buckles so I could shorten it when it get in a way of my duties. It obviously made to be fitted around my tail. Of course I have leather gloves. And a dagger strapped to my thigh. Good maid is also good attack dragon, when required.

If only she ordered to make a house squeaky clean before her return with a slightly stern voice, not without a hint of affection though. I would suddenly become the best at keeping house clean and tidy.

Every spot wiped clean, every speck of dust swept. All the dishes washed, beds maid, laundry folded. All the little thing that I was putting away for MONTHS done swiftly and diligently.

Of course I gonna do it. I'm sucker for peer pressure and mistress is best at it.

When she returns home and examine my days work she satisfied. Minus one little thing. Which keeps me puzzled, I did such a good job, scrubbing everything for hours, I could not have missed anything.

Using my confusion mistress grab my hair and push me on my knees. She so smaller and weaker than me, but her physical stature is not where her power over me lies. My sharp senses pick up her oh so familiar smell, but there a hint of someone else too. She pulls me in and order me to finish my duties. I'm eager to oblige

[bantarleton]

What better way than to start your week with a new Don Troiani artwork? Depicted is a private of the United Corps of Pennsylvania & Maryland Loyalists at Pensacola, West Florida.

Both the Pennsylvania and the Maryland Loyalists were raised as separate regiments in Philadelphia 1777, during the British occupation of the city. They were combined, rather unhappily it seems, into one outfit of six companies in 1778. Under the command of Lieutenant Colonel William Allen they were and sent first to Jamaica and then, from December 1779, to Pensacola in West Florida, to aid in operations against the Spanish.

They took part in the failed relief of Mobile in March 1780 and the assault on Mobile Village on January 7 1781. They were then part of the garrison of Pensacola when it was besieged and captured by the Spanish later that year.

The prisoners were taken to Havana and then repatriated to New York a few months later, and formally returned to duty – as two separate units once more – in July 1782. The Pennsylvanian and Maryland Loyalists spent the last year of the war garrisoning New York. The Maryland Loyalists were last mustered in December 1783, while the Pennsylvanians were disbanded on October 10 1783.

Provincial Loyalist corps are often depicted as wearing green, but by the mid point of the war and beyond most wore red coats, with only a few notable exceptions, such as the British Legion and the Queen’s Rangers. This was for ease of supply, and likely also helped make the Loyalists feel more thoroughly incorporated into the British military, while also causing opponents to believe they were facing British regulars.

The Pennsylvania-Maryland corps appears to have had green or olive facings with white lace plus yellow and green threads based on the lace of the Loyal Irish Regiment. I think the black leatherwork here (usually reserved for light infantry) is because the belts are store-issued from a “stand of arms.”

Also note how high on the torso the cartridge pouch and bayonet frog and scabbard are worn, in contrast to how low-down many reenactors wear them – an accurate historical touch, as befits Troiani’s work!