#I need to me put into one of those hydraulic presses

[virgils-muse]

Take me out to the back of the shed anD GET IT OVER WITH ALREADY PLEASE JDNSJFJSF

[littlest-arsonist]

y’know how when you get a tune stuck in your head you’re supposed to learn it on an instrument and it’ll fix it? i wish there was a That for ocs

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

(Small, frivolous rant incoming, apologies)

One thing I wish the Destiny fandom did more of was dabble in the utter horror this universe holds, especially when it comes to portraying the vile atrocities committed by many of the cosmic level characters.

Destiny‘s T rating holds it back so much in my opinion (but it still manages to lay down excellent foundations for horror and more mature themes!!) and I really wish there was more fan works that explored the unimaginable tragedies that occur in lore!!

When you really dwell on the scale of many of the disasters that happen in lore, it really dawns on you just how sinister and monstrous many of the larger villains are. Antagonists like Eramis are much more grounded, certainly not saints though, but some of the antagonists we have encounter are truly odious in their behaviors, even if they are deluded into thinking what they are doing is correct (like the Osmium siblings ravaging whole star systems in pursuit of the sword).

For example, it’s no secret that I LOATHE the Witness like no other. This wicked entity has me fighting bile at the mere thought of it and I truly think the way it delivers cruelty with such a sense of compassion and righteousness to be the most stomach wrenching form of being baneful. I could not think of an entitlement more deplorable than the Witness‘ and it’s existence is a travesty that has caused irreparable harm that spans EONS.

Yet, in my experience, I never see much content that taps into the horrors experienced by those touched by the Witness and its pawns, such as the Noesis and humanity during the collapse. There are INCREDIBLE artistic and written works that tap into the psychological horrors of exos and the unethical hell Clovis was putting people through, but not as many on the more cosmic horrors from what I have seen!!

This may just be a me thing and the personal reasons why I want the Witness put under a hydraulic press speaking, but I often see plenty of depictions of the Witness being uncharacteristically soft and having deeper feelings towards its disciples, but works about its vengeful rage, simple mindedness, violation of the autonomy of others, and predatory grooming are quite barren.

I wish to see just how HEINOUS it is displayed in all its turpitude and how it leaves a festering rot on everything and everyone it touches. I love the Witness because it is so evil in it‘s actions and my heart SINGS any time I see people tap into the trauma it causes, especially for characters like Rhulk or Savathûn!!

There is so much room for exploring just how vast the Destiny universe is when you decenter perpetrators in stories and focus on the incomprehensible number of victims.

Destiny genuinely has a character running around with the title „The Final God of Pain“ haunting people and refusing to permanently die, but there is only so much a T rated game can do and I feel like Destiny enjoyers can go beyond what’s in game in such creative ways!! Just thinking of the fall of Torobatl has me going „Wow, I’m actually so sick to my stomach, I need to honor Caiatl and really capture the pain of such an event!“

The latest lore on the Qugu? My chest HURTS.

Some of the hive experimentations? The hive in general? Hell is not hot enough for what the Witness lead them into.

But you know what they say, be the change you want to see in the world! Create the content you want to enjoy and promote the content you do enjoy!! I wish to dabble into the darker areas of lore, and of course, promote Witness hatred any chance I get!! Hopefully I get more time to write about these things and really value the work the Destiny writers have put into portraying such strong feelings of loss time and time again!!

And also!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read The Garden‘s Witness by Titanmaster_117 !!! ESPECIALLY THE FIRST CHAPTER, I COULD RANT ABOUT THIS BEAUTIFUL PIECE OF PROSE ALL DAY, IT GENUINELY MADE ME CRY!! PROMOTE THE CONTENT YOU ENJOY ALL DAY, EVERYDAY!!

But this is just something I’ve been thinking for some time now. This isn’t condemning anyone in the fandom or saying there is an issue, just a desire I would love to see (and hopefully fulfill if I ever get back into writing for Destiny!) If you guys have any recommendations for Destiny works that are horrific, focus on themes of loss and devastation, or hate on the Witness, feel free to mention them so other people can find them!!

Not enough Witness hate going around for my liking… this looks like a job for me.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 12 part 1 | part 11 | ao3

ha haaaa, i lied about waiting until monday. cw: angst, gory imagery, implied prescription drug abuse

In his dream it’s raining pills.

Steve is crying in his car as rainbow pellets rain from the sky, and then he’s pounding on the Munson’s door while the pills burst into fine powder against his hair, his skin, his clothes. Eddie doesn’t come to the door but suddenly he’s there, teleported outside of it, apologizing right away when Steve demands to know what’s wrong.

“I don’t understand what happened.”

A flash of eyes, of lips; his face doesn’t fully form, but he sweeps one of those perusing looks all over Steve, sees his frayed edges and invites him in to stitch them up.

They talk and laugh for hours — dream logic where the seconds are minutes are years — letting their knees knock together, letting their pinky fingers brush. All the while little pills plink plink against the siding, pharmaceutical hail storm, and suddenly it's morning; Steve has drifted off; Steve has never slept so well. There’s a throw blanket made of cat fur and the smell of coffee and scrambled eggs, Wayne humming sleepily to himself at the stove, waving a spatula in greeting when he spots Steve getting up.

“Mornin'!” he grins. “Ed’s still sleepin’, but feel free to stick around.”

Outside the rain comes harder, heavy knocks against the roof, and when Steve peers into the pan he sees that Wayne’s frying up dead birds. "Just about ready."

He spears a fork into a wing. The feathers start to smoke. “You take your coffee black?”

—

“Ma, you gotta get a job.”

“Hmm?”

She’s watching I Love Lucy.

Steve's head is in his hands.

His elbows are going numb where they’re propped on the breakfast table, and his temples throb, a steady band of pressure like a giant's palm around the sides and back of his skull, pulsing down his aching neck. He’s been staring at next month’s budget for so long it looks like hyro…hiero—?

Whatever. Egyptian shit.

He can’t tell if he’s shit at math or if the math just doesn’t work, but either way it’s not working, and neither is his fucking mom, and he finds himself thinking about this one time in middle school when they took a field trip to a factory with a big hydraulic press. Got to tour the control room; got to pick which fruits to crush.

He remembers the watermelon most vividly of all: the way the rind groaned under the machine’s steady weight, splintering slivers snaked over striped flesh; slowly, slowly, then suddenly, boom!!

Watermelon guts on the concrete floor.

(That was also the first time he got to touch a girl's butt; all the girl's squealed and jumped back from the explosion, and one of them backed herself right into his hand. It was Liz Collins, and it was one hundred percent an accident, because, like, gross, Liz Collins, but still.

Memorable day for two reasons.

God, he needs a nap.)

“A job, ma,” he sighs, a little louder this time. “I can... I don’t know, I can maybe ask around, see if anybody’s hiring? Or- talk to Claudia. Or Karen,” he snaps his fingers by his ear, “or Joyce! She might— yeah. Yeah, she might be able to call and put in a good word at Melvalds...”

She might also be busy being far the fuck away from here. He taps his pencil against his cheek as envy crashes over him. He should be in California. Should spend his time hitting on beach babes and surfing sunny waves instead of drowning in debt and wondering why he’s on a first-name basis with so many random moms.

His mom still hasn’t acknowledged a single word he's said. "Hello? Ma? What d'you think?"

She turns to look at him finally. Gives him a dreamy, lovely smile.

She always was so pretty. “…I’m sorry; what were you saying?”

—

Steve flushes his mom’s pills.

—

part 13

tagging whoever commented recently if your settings will let me @acedorerryn @ahsokatanoss @annabanannabeth @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awolfstudio @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cuips-not-cute @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @fandomfix8 @grtwdsmwhr @hellion-child @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @lololol-1234 @messrs-weasley @nburkhardt @noodle-shenaniganery @ppunkpuppyy @rani-mayida @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @space-invading-pigeon @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @vacantwatchers @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

[medicetwork]

Mercs if they had modern day cellphones!

Heavy:

The screen is too small and his fingers are too big.

The screen also tends to hurt his eyes after a while but he absolutely refuses to turn down the brightness, saying it would make it even harder to see than before

His main favorite functions are video calls with Medic or his family and listening to music.

His life is complete when he discovers E-books

He can’t read them on the screen but he loves being able to clean Sasha while having his favorite book read to him

Medic:

Really doesn’t use it for much else than phone calls and the occasional google search at first

When he discovers mobile games that takes his interest though!

He becomes a candy crush mom.

Oh you have a broken arm? Wellll…You can tough it out, champ. He’s on level 7,229 right now.

He would make all the other men get Life360

Scout:

Total social media zombie(I say as if I am not one)

Surprisingly he’s very popular on apps like Twitter and Tik Tok. People think he’s hilarious!

Unfortunately somewhere along the way he says something less than respectful about something and his account gets banned

Eventually he’s on account number 6 and trying to regrow his following

It never recovers

He finds out about NFT’s

Sniper:

Mainly uses it to watch youtube and play music

His phone is always on silent and Do Not Disturb

He loves those videos where those guys go out into the middle of the woods and just start building a fucking house out of clay and sticks.

He prefers texting to calling, finding it much faster(he just like me fr)

Baffled by just how much porn he has access to now….

But he’s not complaining.

Soldier:

He doesn’t use it because he just keeps breaking his phones.

They’ve been dropped, blown up, set ablaze, dropped in water, eaten by a bread-tumor monster, eaten by Soldier(???) and run over.

Even if they didn’t get destroyed within 3 days he still wouldn’t use it for much else besides setting alarms and sending confusing group texts.

However, with each new phone he has gotten he asks Pyro for stickers and sticker bombs his phone just for fun

Has an American flag wallpaper

Pyro:

Watches a lot of Youtube!

They love art tutorials, cooking tutorials and those videos with the guys that put molten hot metal balls into water and those videos of people crushing things in Hydraulic presses

Their search history is so fucking strange:

“my little pony free episode”

“my little pony movie free”

“how to draw clouds”

“gasoline cheap prices”

They follow Scout’s pages and always send him nice comments and like his videos

Engineer:

Loves listening to music and watching movies on his phone

Eventually learns how to code and make his own apps

This is also how he discovered he could jailbreak his phone and turn it into a universal remote for his sentries

Very slow texter

Uses way more emoji’s than needed

“Hello yall 👋🏻 going to the hardware store today 🔨let me know if yall need anything while im out👋🏻🚶🏼”

His most used app is the settings app

Spy:

Of course all of his phones are burners.

He never uses one for more than one week

Loves pirating movies on it and watching them in bed

He has no contacts. No personal information and keeps his location off at all times

Likes to pretend to be different people and play around with Google and Youtube’s targeted ads and algorithms

One day he’s an 86 year old woman that’s recommended nothing but metal bands and funeral home ads

The next week he’s four years old and getting recommended Mario and Minecraft let’s play videos

He uses twitter

He’s doxxed many people on Twitter

Like Scout he has MANY banned accounts and has also hacked and stolen many accounts

…He hacked one of Scout’s accounts and got it permanently banned

Demoman:

Loves watching Top 10 videos

Also loves having so much ease and access talking to his lads

He video calls his mother often even she just nags him the whole time and keeps accidentally hanging up

Is frequently texting the other team’s Soldier and laughing at what he says back

Uses Discord and Reddit and is in many servers and communities that focus on paranormal activity, urban legends and cryptids

Actually makes his own youtube videos searching for said cryptids

Frequently comments “cringe” under Scout’s posts

[sixosix]

*comes in riding on horse with only 2 legs* heyy i have another one

(from this line)

im gonna rant no no no you WILL listen u got no choice, strap down. like i wanna kiss him so bad rthis is not ebven funy anybmore uueeeuueue ue ueue like i matched w him on tcg today and hes so fuckingf flirty like bro WHAT ARE WE???!!?!?!!?!? bro got me distracted the whole game. he would be the worst uno opponent fr. he throws u with a 'eyes on the cards dear, not on me~' and im throwing my cards out the window and make out w him ONG. these cards on my ass cheeks wont be the only ones clenched today fr. like if he puts down a +4 i wont even be mad bc it would only make the match longer meanign i can look at his gorgeous beautivful lavender amethyst eyes longer and mbhjbnjnmMKKFMGFGMF

(also, Bad by Wave to Earth and Cherry Wine by grentperez is so lyney coded)

an extra bc u make the best fics<33

reader bc shes's also whipped but wont admit it bc she believes she got bigger balls (me fr)

My jaw is on the floor akagi youre a godsend. 1)ITTLE LYNEY IS SO CUTE I WANT TO PINCH HIM SO BAD i need to eat him like that kirby gif to watermelons or put him under a hydraulic press and watch him epxplode to bits i want to BITE HIM. THE SPARKLES. OHH MYTYT HES SO CUTE.

2) GROWN UP LYNEY im thinking horrible thougjts Bye if he looked at me like that…… HOW DID READER NOT FOLD. (me asking as if im not the one writing). WOOWOWOW your lyney is actually so perfect youre my lyney artist you do little lyney and present lyney so well im goign to cry. HES SO MAJESTIC YOURE RIGHT

its like you looked into my brain and drew what was in my head line to line. youre insane…

THE TCG LMFAOOO YOURE SO RIGHT im gonna be so honest i beat him and got all three cards first try but still i played three more times because i wanted to hear him keep talking……. Ive seen comments about how hes saying that to make us lower our guard and its working so well if i was up against him irl id swipe away the cards and jjst pounce him

i havent heard those songs yet but ill go give them a listen rn :D

READER AWWWWHHHRHRBR YOUR VER OF READER IS SO FAWKING CUTEEEE EE AAAAAAAAAAA SHES SO ME…. shes me……and aether ijbol. HE SSO CUTE

[h0neyfreak]

if you have ADHD and struggle with cleaning/keeping things clean, I’m going to offer some aggressively practical advice that may or may not work but has been so helpful for me to keep a base level of tidiness without losing a whole day to cleaning hyperfocus or ending up stressed to the point of crying about how much stuff I have to deal with.

(It’s best suited if you’re in your own apartment/house and have multiple rooms to manage.) But just start moving. Walk around your place. Put on some music or a YouTube video or whatever floats your boat in your headphones and go for a stroll. See some scissors on the coffee table? Snag em on your way by and drop them off where they go. A dish in your bedroom? Bring that bad boy to the sink as you round the corner. Going room by room or breaking tasks into smaller chunks honestly just stresses me out more lmao but wandering around aimlessly emptying trash bins and tossing socks into the hamper as I notice them?? Now I’m just playing one of those object spotter games babey. No pressure there. If I’m feeling extra ambitious I’ll carry a trash bag with me. Can’t get overwhelmed by a room if I leave it two seconds later. Something doesn’t have a place to go? Make one! Or leave it! Who cares!

A bonus tip is to go to Target or Goodwill or Homegoods or any place that has cheap bins/baskets (little ones that you’d keep pencils or rolls of tape or something in not large storage totes) and keep a few sets on hand. If you realize you’ve accumulated a comical number of sharpies you can go grab a little pencil tray for them and suddenly they have a place to go and now when you find a sharpie on the ground you can toss it in the sharpie bin. Doesn’t matter if the sharpie bin is still on the ground, I’m not going to slip and die in a marker-based Looney Tunes incident and I know if I need a sharpie I go to the spot on the floor next to my bookshelf.

And if you go for a walk and don’t pick up anything that’s also fine you at least moved around a bit. Familiarized yourself with the landscape.

It also tricks my brain into seeing “moving from one room to the other = picking up a few things to put away” which just generally helps keep piles from getting out of hand.

Once I’ve made a few laps things are generally tidy enough to do the same thing with vacuuming/wiping down surfaces/dusting etc.

(side note but if you’re in HS/otherwise living with your parents and being constantly squished under a hydraulic press of shame and pressure about your inability to keep your room clean without actually being given coping skills or help, I see you and I love you and I was you and having a messy living space is not actually a moral failing it’s just a thing that happens sometimes)

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 32

MASTAPOST

Samson S. Skulker. Wealthy real estate owner, noted trophy hunter.  Been on safaris in Botswana, Indonesia, India, and other countries taking big game. Guy hunted just about everything. Elephants, rhinos, tigers, elk, only to come to Elmerton Bay, just an hour away by boat from Amity Island.

It didn’t take two brain cells to figure out why. The better question was why Phantom tried to point webbed fingers at him as to the whereabouts of Danny Fenton, a move that was transparently (goddammit Dick and your puns) a lie, according to Bruce. Tim Drake slipped into the man’s more private records without even trying.

Of course, getting the data out and parsing what it meant were two very different things. But he wasn’t trained by Batman for nothing. Skulker did make cursory attempts at hiding his electronic paper trail, but cursory was absolutely not enough to keep 13-year-old Tim out, let alone his current self.

Firstly, the man absolutely hunted more exotic, more illegal creatures. That much was clear. Borrowing some of Barbara’s programmes, Tim found the man travelling to much more remote countries. His little vacations coincided with missing persons reports around the same time.

Missing metas, to be exact. Each person with a power set dangerous to themselves and others. Each person having disappeared without a trace and then never to be found again. The picture Tim was building was getting grimmer.

Secondly, the man was buying parts. Robotics parts, to be exact. Engines, weapons systems, hydraulics. Many of them sourced from Vladco, the company founded by Vlad Masters, an old college friend of Jack and Maddie Fenton, who were the parents to the missing teenager of Tim’s current case.

But Danny Fenton did not have the meta-gene, a fact Tim confirmed after yet another concerning breach of privacy. He filed that detail away for later investigating.

Tim pressed a key, letting his programmes run while he got a coffee. Oh sweet delicious coffee. He had once distilled almost pure caffeine into a syrup. It was the most horrible thing he’d tasted in his life, but the buzz kept him up all night, that was until his heart started giving out. That was less enjoyable.

What was also less enjoyable was the revving motorcycle heading into the Batcave. Two motorcycles, in fact. Just as Tim’s afternoon was looking to be peaceful and quiet.

“Don’t fucking give me that, Dickwing!” Jason called out.

“I’m fine, Jay, maybe you need to stop hovering over me like some mama bear.” Dick put down his helmet with maybe a little too much force.

Jason hopped off his own bike. “That’s bullshit and even Timbit knows it.”

Tim shrunk into the Batcomputer’s chair. He so did not want to be a part of this. He just waited for his older brothers to carry their argument out of earshot, like they had been doing regularly now. The men traded strong words with every footstep across the cave.

“Maybe I’m just a little high strung. It’s honestly nothing.”

“You literally cannot fucking say that when I saw you going full-ass Punisher five minutes ago. Like the traffickers yesterday were one thing. Those guys suck. This dude was literally just a mugger. Are you going out of your fucking mind?”

“Jason, I thought you were supposed to be the one who’s all for going full Punisher style?”

Jason groaned loudly, and then transitioned into a frustrated scream. “Do you even hear yourself?!”

The changing room door slammed shut.

That was the second argument in the last two days. If you told Tim that Mr Heads-in-a-Duffle would be lecturing the Golden Child over excessive force, he’d start working on a machine to send you back to the topsy-turvy alternate dimension you’d come from, but apparently his dimension was the topsy-turvy one the whole time. And he hated it.

Turns out Dick inherited more from Bruce than he liked to admit, including his awful coping mechanisms. And to be honest, he was way too tired to even begin to breach this subject.

He should be happy that his literal attempted murderer was going to be out of his hair for a good while, maybe even forever. But even entertaining the thought made him sick enough to avoid the topic in his head for hours, only to think about it again, and get himself sick again.

So back to Skulker it was. Joy.

It turned out his new friend Skulker had made himself a fucking Iron Man rip-off suit, capable of flight, diving, and packed to the gills with fuck-you bazookas, machine guns, and hydroplasm weapons. Hydroplasm guns that he’d sourced from the Fentons themselves, through a long and complicated chain of buyoffs.

And happy day, the man was kind enough to install cameras and microphones, and kept logs from both.

In a surprising twist, it was fiendishly difficult to hack into those logs. Tim was honestly beginning to sweat. He suspected Skulker’s friends at Vladco (namely Vlad Masters, the sleezeball. Tim never liked him at galas and this only cemented his low opinion) had some secrets that they didn’t want out.

No matter, it was only a matter of time. Tim continued typing.

And typing.

And typing.

What the hell was this firewall?! Tim pinched his arm just to make sure this wasn’t a sleep-deprivation hallucination. He could’ve sworn he’d gotten through that layer of security. It was like it was shifting itself to cover up his progress and force him to start over. Almost like it was alive.

Against the thunderous backdrop of his brothers’ clashing voices, Tim set himself on overdrive. If he could just act faster than it could correct itself, then maybe, maybe.

A plain error message informed him of the results long after he’d already seen them. Tim kicked the table for good measure. The only thing he could extract was two frames of video footage. They showed, respectively, a T-shirt and pair of sneakers that matched what one of the missing metas was wearing when they were last seen.

Was it damning evidence? Absolutely. But it also proved to him absolutely nothing that he wasn’t already suspecting, nothing that could point him in a new direction. Still, it made his stomach churn. He hoped those people would get a better second chance beyond the grave.

Maybe the fact that the data was this well-hidden at all proved something.

The locker room door swung open, his brothers in civvies and glaring at each other, trying to appear civil in front of (right behind) Tim, even though they’d literally just been shouting at each other ten minutes ago.

“Timmy!” Dick called out. “How long have you been awake?”

Tim gestured offhanded to his pile of only two used mugs. “Not long enough. I’m still working. Can you take it upstairs please?”

Jason huffed, and stalked off upstairs without a word, probably too disgusted to be in his and Dick’s presence much longer.

Dick clasped his hands. “It’s fine, Tim. Honestly. Jason and I are just having a little, err, disagreement, is all.”

“Hm.” Tim inputted another set of commands. He was starting to see why Bruce liked to say that now. Avoiding painful emotions felt so good. Dick made a pained noise.

“Well, ok. I’m just gonna head back to Bludhaven now. Say hi to Alfred for me! And contact me if you need anything!” And then he sped off.

Tim shook off the awkwardness like old clothes. Thank goodness for some peace and quiet again. Maybe that was why he was working so hard to help Bruce get the demon child back, so he could return to the status quo, and not this. This hell reality where Dick was as emotionally constipated as Bruce and Jason was the one acting as the voice of reason.

The first night when Bruce called home, the entire family was in an uproar. Dick got a pale look on his face, and was halfway about to take the Batplane and go searching for Damian himself, only for Bruce to remind him that they were all still needed in Gotham and Bludhaven, and whatever few leads there were, Bruce would pursue. It was effortlessly logical, but it was clear Dick hated it. He stormed off in a rage that Tim had only seen when Ethiopia was fresh, when he and Bruce were at their lowest.

And Jason? He got this look on his face that he’d never, ever seen before. Tim had laid awake one night just contemplating it for ages.

Actually, no. He had seen it once before. It was Tim caught Jason looking into what Bruce was doing in the months after Ethiopia. Tim had subtly hacked the phone camera, and the look Jason had then was the same as how he looked when Damian was declared missing.

Tim shook his head. It was a gruesome image, what Bruce had sent them. Damian’s clothes ripped to shreds. The ground stained with his blood. No body in sight.

A little brother who may or may not be dead, something he may or may not be glad or sick to his stomach about. Brothers who were acting like completely different people, and a monster of a man who had to be connected somehow.

A ping appeared in the corner of the screen. The government siren hunting branch appearing in Panama?

Sam Manson sat up in her bed, her body finding some way to release the dread and tension. She looked on at her phone in horror and macabre fascination in equal parts.

This had Danny written all over it. She didn’t even need to hear the anchor confirming it to know.

On the one hand, she really wanted to applaud him for fucking them up this bad. The comment section was ripping into the GiW for their actions in Panama, treating the country like it was some vassal state they could romp around in. She personally screenshotted the fucking beautiful mass car crash the GiW had gotten into trying to catch him, and saved it into her favourites folder.

On the other hand, she really wanted to slap him for fucking up this bad. This could’ve easily gone wrong. Danny what were you thinking?! They could’ve got him that time!

And finally, she wanted to yell in frustration, because they had a radio communicator there. Goddammit! If only Tucker had known, they he could’ve hacked in and they could’ve talked to their best friend and actually got an update on what the fuck was going on.

And finally, finally for real, she was so glad, because the GiW would’ve announced it on every news channel if they’d actually managed to catch him. Thank fucking goodness.

Ugh, this headache. She really needed to lie down again.

Knock, knock knock knock knock, knock knock.

Dread pooled in her stomach. “Come in,” she said, resigned to her fate.

Grandma Ida, the person she least wanted to see right now, opened the door. She was the kind of woman who never carried herself very seriously, except for in matters of sorcery, and especially when warning Sam on the dangers of her craft. Dangers that Sam had ignored in order to go all out. Now she marched into Sam’s bedroom like an executioner.

Grandma stood at the foot of Sam’s bed, scanning her closely. “I knew I smelled tinged blood.” She went up to the side, and palmed Sam’s forehead. Her hand was freezing cold to the touch. “You should’ve called me immediately.”

Sam averted her eyes. She should’ve, but she didn’t.

Her parents never failed to get a rise out of her; she rejected their notions of female beauty and social etiquette in every way, their attempts to hook her up with Tim Drake-Wayne, then Damian Wayne, and she hadn’t cowed to them or submitted since she was ten. But with Grandma’s withering disapproval, she couldn’t feel more like a child if she tried.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“I warned you many times of the risks, Sammy. You’re lucky to be here, and not in the hospital or worse.”

“I know.”

Sam moved to lie on her side, facing away from Granny. Granny had questioned her decision to fight alongside Danny, but allowed it under the condition that she did so safely, and turning your body into a popping water balloon, but with blood, was so not the definition of safe.

And Danny’s fate was still in question regardless. He wasn’t able to cross Panama, and who knows what Damian was doing. What if it was all for naught?

A hand was put on her shoulder. “Did you accomplish what you were set out to do?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“And was it worth it?” Yes. Absolutely yes. Danny bled every day for this god-forsaken town of ingrates. He’d bled for her mistake six months ago.

Granny seemed to understand her feelings. She nodded, and ruffled Sam’s hair, and the tension in Sam’s body drained away.

“Then I trust your judgement. Can you sit up? I’ve brought some more medicine for you.”

Sam pushed herself against the bunched-up pillows at the headboard. Her head spun from the motion, but she was never one to let her body’s limits confine her. “Thank you, Bubbe. I love you.”

Granny passed her a brew of herbal medicine, dozens of dried spices and mushrooms brewed together into a blackened sludge that felt like knives into your tongue, but which never failed to get her feeling better. It was a leg up from what big pharma tried to pedal for ten-fold the price.

Sam lifted up the mug to her face. And, oh yeah. Nothing like bitter liquid pain to help with a migraine. She let the hot tea flow over her taste buds, pathing them in cinnamon, star anise and a million other things.

She finished her tea in one satisfying gulp, running her tongue over her teeth and scratching out the lingering aftertaste. As she put the mug down, it revealed Grandma’s face hovering right in front of her. Sam yelped in shock. “Bubbe! You gave me a heart attack!”

Bubbe smiled devilishly. “So what did you do?”

Sam’s mouth gaped open. Leave it to her Grandma to almost kill her from emotional whiplash.

“Now come on, this is a monumental moment for a budding young sorceress like yourself. Why, when I was twenty-two, I used to run with some heroic types myself. We had all sorts of hijinks together.” Bubbe cackled and clasped her hands, eyes going wispy. “My friends got a heart attack when I pulled off my own hare-brained scheme to topple the evil overlord of the week’s central command. Hah!”

“What?!” Then Sam coughed, and lowered her volume. “What do you mean ‘heroic types.’ You just told me you went to some stuffy academy and eloped.”

Bubbe shrugged. “I did do that. Must have forgotten the extra stuff.”

Sam blinked.

She moved to sit beside Sam on the bed. “We got up to a lot of fun back in the day, and a lot of pain too. I did what I did to protect those I cared for. Did you, bubbeleh?”

She held Sam’s hand with a look that reminded her just how many years Grandma had lived, and how many adventures or stories she had yet to tell, how much heartache she’d had to endure to become the woman she was now. “I projected an illusion all the way off the coast of Panama. It hurt like nothing else in my entire life, but…” She paused. “We got Phantom out. He’s safe now, I think.”

Grandma Ida nodded solemnly, the kind of understanding that Sam craved from her parents every waking moment of her teenage career.

“I don’t want this to be a regular occurrence, ok?”

“Yes, I promise. This was an extreme circumstance.”

“Good. Now, are you well enough for some meditation? It would do well to keep your soul energy flowing.”

Ok, but you have to tell me what you got up to back in the day.”

Granny chuckled, and agreed to it. Sam kicked off her covers, letting her legs get some fresh air. She was probably pushing it, but she needed to recover as quickly as possible. Who knew when she would be needed again?

Maddie Fenton kneeled in the sand. Her hands clamped down on her gun. Her knees shook. Tears prickled in her goggles.

Her baby was right there. He was so close. So fucking close. She could almost touch him, even now.

And he ran away from her. And at first her heart shattered into a million pieces, just like it had when he’d come home after his first disappearance and flinched when she hugged him.

Then she realised. He was protecting her. Some metal menace was shooting at her defenseless son like it was some kind of sick game. The monster of a man had laid fucking landmines on a public beach.

It should’ve been her protecting him.

Bruce Wayne returned to her side, empty handed. They’d scoured this entire beach. Danny couldn’t have gone far, she had thought, only for their search to turn up with nothing.

That left only one option. That her enemy doubled back after fleeing, and snatched Danny up without either her or Bruce noticing. Maddie’s heart sank. She should’ve aimed for the head.

A name pinged in her mind. Phantom had whispered it to her. Skulker.

With nary but nod, she and Bruce mounted their jet skis again.

[transfemme-floofer]

I was dusting the house as normal, like I did every week when I saw a strange golden card note on the kitchen table labelled “for my first ancilla”

“Strange” I thought, Mistress Luci was not normally like this, sure she was affectionate at times, but that’s normal for humans to feel that way about their pets. Curious, I opened it, it said: “3pm, on the private beach, near the cove, dress your best”

The time came and I walked down the garden and down the cobbled steps onto the beach. I was dressed in Merrel sandals instead of the standard Imperial Serva heeled sandals, a pink and white pleated skirt given as a gift for good behaviour instead of my summer cherry skirt or my standard issue skirt , a Very Special Occasion (MEO-Mucha Especial Ocasión) scented wick away slave blouse instead of the standard version, and a Peugeot love heart shaped chain link Titanium alloy collar instead of the standard oval chain link medicollar

Mistress looked at me up and down like five times before saying a word. “You’re… beautiful” she finally said, clearly rendered speechless. I curtsy in front of her, “thank you Domina” i replied, remembering to use Latin as well as my native British “where are we going” she had no obligation to reply and so kept silent as we walked to the cove admiring the waves and the cool afternoon, until I could see it, her Amphibicar Fiat Chariot (think like an Italian Ford Crown Victoria or Opel Omega), those things had been around 2610 AUC (1867), but this was a 22nd generation rear mid engined 2766 (2012) Amphibian vehicle variant (itself in it’s 10th generation since 2680 (1947)) with a 5.5L Ferrari Turbo V8, modular and hydraulically adjustable bench seats front and rear, four wheel drive courtesy of Lancia and a luxurious 3-speed hydraulic automatic transmission (with three electro-locked overdrive gears tacked on in the 2760 refresh for fuel and performance, as well as to hide its age) yanked out of the Buick Sappho coupe “Mistress this is wonderful” I turned to see her and say thank you, but found her on one knee

“Julia, I have legally submitted a form for us to be married, so that you won’t have to worry about losing me, your first constant and comfort in a long time” she pulled out a finger print scanner, “all I need is your fingerprint”, I pressed down excitedly, then my tabula got a notification

“Married to Doctor Luciana Antonia Presenti MD, PhD”

And another, from Fiat Intelligencia Automobilli “Authorised Guest of Luciana Presenti’s Intelligent Control System on her 2766 Fiat Chariot”

Mistress added on, “use it wisely”

I oblige “Fiat, open doors-“

Mistress chides playfully “No slave, stupid slut, type it out in the app”

I open the app and find the command room, where I find Mistress had already done test runs, I type in, “open driver door and say “welcome Domina””. It does so flawlessly and without hesitation. Mistress blushed “thanks pet, really appreciate it” she found the 2730s Buick touchscreen still in there with updated visuals and apps, but the same size of the screen and the same working concept. She typed in, “open passenger left back door and give the back ambient red gel lights and put on brothel music”. It did so. “very funny mistress”

(Another case of part two when I feel like it)

[ellierenae]

Dead darlings tag

The kind and talented @winterandwords tagged me to post one of the darlings I had to kill (or as they put it, "a snippet that didn't make it into the latest draft of a story").

Thanks for the tag, I have a good one for you!

“Find your repurpose,” Dawson grumbled, rolling the wheel of her car toward the OPEN HOUSE sign. There was a cookie-cutter, carbon-copy sign on every street for ten or twenty blocks that said those same three words. “Find your repurpose.” They appeared overnight, the night before her rent control was lifted. “Better than affordable housing,” the recruiter had said. (He had been plastering her workplace with flyers for hours, making sure that he did not miss an inch of poorly-mortared brick.) “300 sq. ft. can be so much more than you’ll ever need.” “More than you’ll ever want.” “That’s why they call them Forever Homes.” Insufferable, carbon-copy recruiter. A man who would apparate in your bathroom if you turned off the lights and said “Old Navy” three times in a row. Forever Homes never needed him to begin with. Not once did his freshly-pressed polo shirt convince a business man to walk into a repurposed shipping container and never walk out again. Not once did his carbon-copy signs make a woman turn away from pilates class to see what it might be like to forget the smell of fresh air and dandelions. What sold people, impoverished people, was the freedom from basic human needs. Food and shelter in exchange for whatever mark you might have made on this earth. There was no competition between sunshine and a full belly. Then, there were the advertisements… the ones of the brown-eyed girl who had been living on the streets her whole life, walking into a Forever Home that slotted in furniture to depict a toy store where every teddy bear and baby doll was free– the one in which she picked up a bear the size of herself and they waddled into the next room to see a feast of lobster mac and cheese, shrimp gumbo, collared greens. She laughed deliriously and swung her bear up to see the treasure they had found. Dawson had no daughter, she just… She needed to be happy– childishly happy. She needed to eat lobster mac and cheese and hold a bear the size of herself, whether she was in her thirties, her teens, her terrible twos… She deserved that, didn’t she? “So glad you could come check out–” Dawson shoved past the Old Navy man, knocking him into a poorly concealed tower of hydraulic delivery systems. They were the things that carried the shelves, tables, and frivolous things around. She opened the door to the house, proclaimed as OPEN, and looked around to see nothing but an empty, off-white shipping container with subtle slits here and there. “Where’s the ON switch?” He cleared his throat. “Voice control keywords are on the blue poster, but if you...” She slammed the door before he could stick his foot in it. For good measure, she leaned her weight against the door a while, in case he tried to barge in, uninvited. She knew he was only doing a job, but he was still a human with thoughts and feelings, and she would prefer that those thoughts and feelings never perceived her: a butch 32-year-old, sobbing into the teddy bear from the Forever Homes commercials. From the outside, the recruiter only heard the hissing of hydraulics and clanking of metal furniture being pushed in and out of place. Not a whimper could be heard from the outside. Not a word. She emerged with a chapped nose and glassy eyes. “How did you like…?” “Yeah. It was fine, yeah.” Her frown was as forced as his smile. “Well, you can always come back if you change your mind.” “Sure. I’ll think about it.”

Tagging @thecatsgravewrites, @literarynecromancy, and anyone who's read this far!

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 64 - part 2 of the apple pie baking session

"Statement of Donna Gwynne, regarding an unlicensed archaeological dig" - DIG

"Original statement given May 20th, 2015." - Oh! Depending on Gertrude's actual death date (15th March or 15th May), this statement could have been given while our Archive crew was already in charge. IF it was the 15th May I don't think Elias would have already put together his new team. I think it took at least one to two weeks. At least! (Even with Elias already knowing that he absolutely needed Jon in this position. HR works slowly…)

"But education funding is being squeezed across the board, and the fact is, most higher-up positions in the field tend to only open up once the previous occupant dies." - Well, talking about Gertrude's death and how to appoint the next Archivist…

"Large upon the stone was carved the closed loop of a shen ring, the symbol of infinity." - Oh wow, totally forgot about that. Nice detail.

"It was a labyrinth" / "it seemed to only assume its deceptive, maze-like form when heading back towards the entrance. When walking deeper in, it was rather straightforward." - Was this done, so the undead person inside wouldn't find its way out so easily? Then again, when you have infinite time to figure it out (or walk along one side of the wall), what good would that do?

"I did notice something in the corner, though: about a half-dozen small bones, with carvings on each face. Dice." - There we have it, the dead (heh) give-away for what kind of "creature" this is. One of those gambling with Death.

"I saw it" - This is something Jonny also uses a lot of times. Announcing the impossible thing with a "And then I saw it".

"Was this thing alive when that had happened? Was it buried in salt for seventy days, feeling the cedar oil slowly melting its insides?" - Thanks for bringing this to our attention…

"positioning the point of the blade on its chest, where the heart should be. Then it made me push the knife in. The poor creature hung there for a second, then pulled the knife out and made me stab it again. Over and over it made me do it, while its torso racked and convulsed. It almost seemed like it was crying But without tear ducts or lungs, there was no way to know." - Ok seriously, there had to be a way to end those of this kind. What about full cremation! Nothing left but ashes. Then again… Would it even burn to that point? I mean mummification seemed to have worked? What about a hydraulic press? Freezing and grinding it to dust? According to this statement you can damage the bodies of those so they are far beyond humanity. But would it be possible to actually destroy the body to a point, that there is nothing left to be alive?

"In ancient Egypt, dying was the most important thing a person would ever do. Your whole life was preparation for it" - Yep, remember learning about that in history and art history. That is an interesting topic in combination with the "And I must scream" trope. I feel like, this is something different the the generic monster mummy.

BASIRA "You can’t just come down to the station asking to –" - Jon, you fucking idiot xD

Hmmm. Later on the statement in web development (mag 123) was given on 1st August, 2015 and Jon says "It looks like this statement came in just after Gertrude disappeared. Another gap. And whoever took it didn’t do any follow-up, just… filed it away. I may be the first person to actually read it, so... Sorry, Angie. I suppose." Which might be a timing discrepancy but I think this means Jon and his team didn't start working until after August and that means this mummy statement was just another unprocessed statement?

[darkstalker1247]

Hydraulics AU: Part 9

This was strange. 

Steve’s mind was racing, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Here was this giant creature who’d been feral even minutes before and was suddenly tame, curled up in the corner, away from him, as well as another person talking to him. What was this place? He’d just seen another world that looked like it was made of paper mache, and he looked and felt like a zombie. Even this strange new person he was talking to looked somewhat human, despite the whole being made of ink thing. He seemed like he knew what he was doing, however, so Steve rationalized to trust him for now. After all, he’d gotten him out of what he now described to be a literal hell hole. 

“I know you probably have a lot of questions,” Sammy breathed. “Lucky for us, the gentleman who runs this place stocked up plenty of ink and paper, so ask away.” He set a piece of paper on the floor in front of Steve; their only way of communicating. Steve pondered over what he should ask first. After a moment, he scrawled one particular question he settled on:

What happened to you?

Sammy went quiet after reading it. He rubbed his fingers together; Steve figured he’d struck a nerve. After a long silence, Sammy spoke up. “I wasn’t exactly forced into this, not at first.”

“It started off normal. I was antisocial as per usual, kicking everyone out of my department as soon as I could, just trying to get some peace and quiet. Those songs of mine never wrote themselves, after all. They started giving me a new type of ink to write with, and after the Machine was put in, we’d get trapped in the department sometimes. The ink would overflow and block the exit. Our boss’ answer was more distractions for me, which only made my work harder and my mind spiral more often than usual. It’s always been a problem, but it got just that much worse after… after the Ink Demon was made.” He paused for a moment, glancing at Bendy itself, who was seemingly alert, watchful. Then he continued. “I started hearing voices. They told me to do things I’m not proud of, like drinking that.” He paused again, this time pointing at the little inkwell sitting next to the paper in front of him. “It only made things worse. Not only did the voices come and go, I swore I started seeing things. Normal things for people around the studio, but I was seeing them in my sleep. I used to joke about how Bendy and his little cartoon friends would drive me insane…” 

The Demon snapped its head in their direction, recognizing its name. The two ignored it. “It got to the point where I was convinced that the Ink Demon was some kind of god, and that I needed to appease it in some way. When the Cycle ended up starting, I decided to try some kind of sacrifice. I basically screamed at the ceiling until I’d finally caught its attention, but when I tried to get it to accept a few people I’d stumbled upon as an offering, it just pushed me into the ink.” He moved his mask out of the way of his face and pressed his hand to his forehead. “It was a mistake. I knew it was a mistake. Susie warned me about getting too deep into my work…” 

Sammy had stopped, rubbing his head and trying to calm himself. He seemed finished with his story. Steve was very confused. Sammy’d mentioned some names that Steve recognized without knowing how or why. The Machine, the Cycle, even the name Susie was very familiar. He had a picture of the Machine in his mind; it was complex on the inside but had a simple purpose, to create an endless supply of ink. Strange. 

He couldn’t think of anything to say next, so he simply wrote underneath the question: I’m sorry. Sammy stared at this expression of sympathy for a minute before sighing. “Thank you,” he near-whispered, “Do you have any other questions? Anything at all?” 

Steve felt the need to write down something else, to clear this strange air of grief and regret. He scrawled down another query as fast as he could without misspelling anything. His black hands, still a horrifying surprise to look at, were shakier than usual. He managed to write out:

What happened to the Ink Demon? 

The two looked over at the Demon itself, who was fiddling with its fingers, clearly very bored. “Bendy,” Sammy called out, “He’s asking about you.” It snapped to attention and stood on its back legs, slowly thudding over to where they were talking. Steve noticed it left behind a giant puddle of ink where it had been sitting. It dragged its huge claws along the floor as it walked, and its heart beat slowly from wherever it was. It flopped down on the ground again behind Sammy, like a dog switching spots to be in the sun. It looked intently at Steve, but he wasn’t sure why. “That’s both an easier and a harder question,” Sammy said in a calmer, more purposeful tone. “The owner of the animation studio that the… place spawned from wanted to do something basically impossible. He wanted to make living cartoon characters. I’m not sure if he was actually the starry-eyed idiot he always pretended to be or if he was a money hungry monster, but he wanted living attractions. We don’t really mention him too often.” He glanced back at the Ink Demon behind him, indicating why. “Anyway, he wanted to make living cartoons. He experimented on that Ink Machine with some guy named Thomas Connor, and eventually they came up with something. The owner’s first experiment was his main character, Bendy.” He pointed behind him. “As you can see, it didn’t go so well.” 

Oh, that actually makes sense, Steve thought to himself. Money-obsessed business owner plays God and gets kicked in the ass for it. 

“After Bendy came out deformed, J- I mean, the owner locked it in some secluded location, away from us. It drove it mad, and uh… this is what we have now.” He seemed to stumble over his words. The Ink Demon grumbled. It sounded almost like it was in physical pain. It has emotions, then, Steve pondered again. Sammy sighed. “I know, buddy, I know… it’s over now. He can’t hurt you.” It whined and settled down, burying its head in its giant hands. 

Sammy looked back over at Steve. “Anything else?” 

Steve decided to write down one last question.

What was your boss’ name?

Sammy didn’t say anything. He motioned for Steve to hand him the pen he was using, and then wrote down something. His handwriting was really neat, all things considered. 

Joey Drew. 

Steve nodded in regards to Sammy. That’s all, he was trying to say, and thank you. 

___

it's been a bit hasn't it

ngl I'm really proud of the characterization in this one

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[six-of-ravens]

Also on the "holy shit finally learning financial responsibility" docket are changing my "retirement TFSA" into an RRSP and cancelling my life insurance policy so I stop having to pay the exorbitant (by my standards) fee every spring (at the exact same time my rent increase--and there's always an increase-- comes into effect).

TBH I was on the fence about RRSPs because a) they're taxable so what you have in your account gets nerfed as soon as you withdraw it (rude), b) there's a fee for withdrawing money before you turn a certain age (one of the R's stands for Retirement and they want you to be Properly Old before you get your money), and c) if the bank loses your money they're not required to pay you back, whereas with a TFSA they need to compensate you for any losses (ie. If I have 10,000 in a TFSA and the bank loses 8000 of it, they can't come back to me with 2000 and be like "oopsie," they have to pay me the lost 8k regardless), whereas with an RRSP oopsies are allowed, though not encouraged bc I can probably sue somehow if I believe my funds were mismanaged by people they and not me personally chose to manage them. This is why stock brokers jump out of skyscrapers, though no one will kill themselves over my paltry accounts.

Oh! I forgot the benefit to an RRSP. Tax breaks. You get more money back at tax time. Which I always complain about. Give me that sweet government cash thank you.

.....ANYWAY. not wealthy by anyone's definition, but I think this stone has some blood in it and boy I'm gonna squeeze it like one of those youtubers putting random objects in a hydraulic press.

I've been really stressed about financial stuff again (don't want to move back in with the parents vs. literally might not be able to afford rent within 100km of the city AND there's only one house in a reasonable distance (....1.5hr drive) I can afford, and I'd have to Hunger Games style fight and kill every other millennial at the open house so I uh, bought a lottery ticket and then made an account on my bank's investing app (it's like a baby version that teaches you how to trade and stuff). Idk how worth-it investing will be since I'm not like, throwing thousands of dollars into it, but meh, might as well try a little and see what the return is.

[pioneergirlsie]

Rise of the Resistance || Part 1

Part 2 || Masterlist

(Poe Dameron x Reader)

Summary: You thought this would be a simple mission, but is any mission simple with Poe Dameron involved?

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I just got back from Disney World, and I could not get enough of Galaxy’s Edge and Rise of the Resistance. This fic is the product of that obsession. If you have ideas for the rest of this fic or others pertaining to Galaxy’s Edge or Poe Dameron, please shoot me an ask!

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Double shifts start in two hours.”

You sigh at the announcement crackling over the comms. Everyone has been putting in so much time already. Mandatory double shifts were going to be rough on everyone. Still, the Resistance stopped for nothing, so you’d all find a way to get through it. A hydraulic jack holding up the mass of rock above your head hissed as you stepped under it. You didn’t even flinch. You knew how much work Archex and Pook and Vi had put in to make these ruins safe and functional for the Resistance. Working your way through the ancient tunnels of the base, you passed through rooms filled with supplies: flight suits, helmets, bacta tanks, thermal detonators, blasters. You didn’t stop to inspect any of them, though. You had a briefing to get to. Earlier in the day, you’d picked up a distress signal on your datapad. It was your friend, Finn. Green Team’s mission to get some datatapes off a Star Destroyer had gone a little sideways, and he was looking for help. You’d offered to connect him with Resistance Command, but he was worried he’d lose the connection and insisted he wanted your help.

So, you’d helped him. You’d hacked doors, decrypted information, and gotten Finn safely reunited with his team. Of course, you’d connected with Resistance Command immediately afterwards to brief them on Finn’s progress.

Poe had been there, already in his flight suit. You’d updated him on Finn, knowing that he would be thankful for any update on his friend. He’d hugged you tight before you left, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “For luck,” he’d said. You’d squeezed him all the tighter, letting your hand trail down his arm as you moved away, your fingertips brushing his. You kept your eyes locked on his for as long as possible, their warmth bolstering your courage.

Now, though, you needed to keep moving. That briefing was due to start in just a couple minutes.

“Hey, they’re waiting for you, Captain!” a man called out as you approached the corridor before the briefing room. You smiled and nodded at Dolin before entering the briefing room. He was one of Vi’s new recruits from right here on Batuu, and you couldn’t help but like him.

The doors slid open, and you stepped inside, working your way in front of the roomful of recruits to stand near the exterior doors, just in front of the holoprojector. You were one of the leads on this mission, so you needed to hear everything, even though you’d already been fully prepped by Bek and his team.

Lieutenant Bek had asked for you specifically to help him get these new recruits safely off-world to the new base. It shouldn’t have made you so nervous; it was a good thing, a great thing, that he trusted you with this mission. When you’d told Poe about your nerves, he’d taken your hand and squeezed it tight, looking into your eyes. “If anyone can get those recruits safely to Pacara, it’s you. Besides, I’ll be right there with you. It’ll be good,” he’d reassured you. You did feel better knowing that Poe would be there, flying right next to you. Still, you just couldn’t shake that feeling…

“Incoming transmission from Rey,” a woman’s voice announced over the speakers. Your heart bubbled with joy; Rey was a good friend, but you never saw enough of her. BB-8 whirred from where he’d been watching some of the monitors, and a few moments later, Rey appeared before you all on the holoprojector.

“BB-8, are the recruits assembled?” she asked BB-8, who whistled in the affirmative. “Good. Shouldn’t you be in flight prep?” Rey’s eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

BB-8 happily whirred off, eager to find Poe, but he quickly chirped a hello to you before he left. You smiled, knowing that Poe was in good hands with that little droid by his side.

Rey waited for the droid to exit before beginning her briefing, her face once again serious. “Recruits, thank you for joining the cause. A covert Resistance team led by my friend Finn has infiltrated a First Order Star Destroyer that is now headed to this system. Your outpost on Batuu is no longer safe. We have transports waiting to take you to General Organa’s secret base on Pacara. I’ll regroup with you there. The Resistance desperately needs your help in our fight against Kylo Ren and the First Order. Remember, it is vital that you keep the location of the Pacara Base secret. Lieutenant Bek, one of our top commanders, will lead you.”

“Affirmative.” Bek’s voice crackled in, and he appeared on a screen a moment later, Nien Nub flickering to life next to him. The Mon Calamari lieutenant’s confident demeanor washed over you, calming some of your nerves. “Transport is ready. Nien Nub and I shall personally see them delivered.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Rey smiled at the group. “Welcome to the cause. May the Force be with us.” Her hologram crackled before sparking out of sight.

Bek took over the briefing from there. “Commander Poe Dameron and a squadron of X-Wings shall escort us to the rendezvous point on Pacara.”

Your heart jumped at the mention of Poe, looking eagerly to the screens as he appeared.

“Roger. This is Black Leader. I hear you’re a fine-looking group of recruits.” Poe smiled at the group before locking eyes with you. “Well, no time to waste. Let’s get you on your way to the General.”

You smiled as Poe grabbed his helmet and put it on. Poe was hardly superstitious, but even he had some preflight rituals. He’d told you once that every time he put on his helmet, he made sure to think of his mom. Your heart warmed to know that’s most likely what he was thinking of now.

The doors to your right whooshed open, revealing the transport all fueled up and waiting for you and the recruits.

“This way!” called a flight deck attendant, waving his arms for the recruits to follow him. “Your transport is ready!”

The recruits all followed him toward the transport, waiting for its doors to open. You, however, made your way off to the right, looking up at Black One, Poe Dameron’s X-Wing. Honestly, it was the prettiest ship in the galaxy. After the original Black One was lost during the D’Qar evacuation, Poe had been heartbroken (and so had you). Fortunately, after some scrounging around, the Resistance managed to modify an X-Wing that was almost as good as the original.

Poe sat in his ship now, focused on the transport ahead of him. BB-8 was in his place, ready for takeoff. You waved up to BB-8, and he beeped cheerfully in response. Poe, however, still hadn’t looked your way. You picked up a pebble and tossed it lightly at his canopy.

The noise didn’t startle the pilot like you’d hoped, but he did turn your way, breathing a laugh. You gave him a playful two-fingered salute, walking backwards towards the transport. Poe scrunched his nose at you and winked, returning the salute.

Quickly, you made your way to the front of the recruits, frequently sneaking glances back at Black One. Bek believed in you. Poe believed in you. The recruits needed you. You were ready.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @agentmalfoy24601 @sugarpunch-princess

(Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

If you like this fic, you might also enjoy Hope is like the Sun

[funnywormz]

Idk which of these you've already done, but... encyclopedia, drama, visual calculus, inland empire, shivers, and reaction speed (but I use it to slip a small caterpillar into your hand)

this got kinda long so im putting it under a read-more!

ive done drama and shivers so i'll leave them out here, but i haven't done any of the others so im doing them! ^___^

encyclopedia: what's your favourite niche piece of lore?

idk if it's exactly niche bc it's pretty easy to come across it, but the little detail abt ,tzaraath", the elysium-wide pandemic of prion disease, was rlly interesting to me....... in the game it's only rlly brought up bc the economic and social consequences of it led to the revolution, but im curious abt the disease itself. iirc it was supposedly spread by potatoes, which seems like an unlikely vector for a human neurodegenerative disease?!?!?!?

i also wonder how it was dealt with/eradicated. in reality, back in the 80s/90s when bse/cjd (which is also a neurodegenerative prion disease) was more of a concern, it was mostly dealt with through testing to prevent spread from cattle to humans, and through large scale eradication of cattle. however even with modern medicine, prion diseases in general are pretty much untreatable and if you have one like cjd you're just kinda fucked lol. cattle with it can't be saved either and usually get culled. so im curious to know how tzaraath was dealt with in elysium given that it was supposedly a widespread disease that there was probably no cure for. did everyone with it just die? how have they been able to prevent it spreading again since, do they text crops for it? is it survivable, are there any survivors still around? is the disease itself still present in the population just at a lower level? idk it's just rlly interesting to me

the other little lore snippets that interest me are: 1) joyce mentioning a specialist fungal species that lives at the edge of the pale and 2) ruby knowing someone who used to work at a repeater station (possibly an ex-lover of hers, even?).......... i need to know more abt both of those too...........

visual calculus: what's your overall favourite moment of the game? your favourite line?

big spoilers, but it's this:

"Insulindian Phasmid - That must be incredibly hard. The arthropods are in silent and meaningless awe of you. Know that we are watching -- when you're tired, when the vision spins out of control. The insects will be looking on. Rooting for you.

Insulindian Phasmid - And when you fall we will come to raise you up, bud from you, banner-like, blossom from you and carry you apart in a sky funeral. In honour of your passing. (But not me, because I am just a leaf eater.)

Volition - In honour of your will, lieutenant-yefreitor. That you kept from falling apart, in the face of sheer terror. Day after day. Second by second."

the whole scene with the phasmid is my favourite overall moment in the game, but holy shit this particular series of lines always makes me cry. it's so loving and tender, and the acknowledgement that life can be terrifying and horrible and sometimes it takes a lot of willpower to keep going it so oddly comforting to me. it makes me feel like im not alone in how i feel and that it's ok to find it hard and struggle, just as long as i keep going and keep trying. and it's comforting to think abt the insects waiting for us at the end of it <3

inland empire: if video game Disco Elysium was put in a hydraulic press. if it was bundled and squeezed into a small object that fit in the palm of your hand. what would that look like? what would you do with it, then?

hm......... i thought abt this for a while and i think it would be like an iridescent little die with a glass/polished stone kind of texture, and would look mostly blueish green with sparkles of orange, but would change depending on how the light hit it and what angle you were viewing it from. it would be a bit bigger than other normal dice, but still a standard cube shape with 6 sides. it would be cool to the touch and kinda heavy, and smooth at the edges instead of sharp. i think the first thing i would do would be roll it to see what number i got

reaction speed: (i am simply giving you an ace's high)

FUCK YES. i am returning your aces high but very gently so as not to squish the caterpillar and i will find a nice green leaf for it to nibble on 🐛

[starsinmylatte]

Tease (2/2)

Our beloved reader was fed up with the lack of attention from a certain Grand Admiral. To force his hand, she decided to send some pictures to tempt him while he was away, but things didn't quite go as they were planned. Now, we see the aftermath of those events.

Tease (1/2) link here in case you haven't read it!!

Pairing: Grand Admiral Thrawn x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only) Minors DNI

Tags/warnings (for part 1): lingerie, m@sturbation, dom/sub relationship, y'all this is filth, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex (please practice safe sex irl), authority kink

Word count: 4k (I got a little... ok, a lot... carried away)

bat in’a- beautiful one

ch'eo ch'itiseb- my sweet

ch’eo vir- my dear

cseo cssah bat- so very beautiful

cseo ch’itrico- so hungry

cseo tsaco- so tight

You had known that you were in trouble, but you realized the true extent of how completely and utterly kriffed you were on the morning Thrawn returned to the Chimaera.

Clue number one: he didn’t spare you as much as a single glance when he entered the bridge. Usually, Thrawn would make a point to have at least one small moment of inconspicuous eye contact as a greeting, but not today. Today he didn’t spare so much as a glance in your general direction.

The second clue was far more direct; a simple note sent through the encrypted channel.

Wear it tonight.

Some small part of you hoped the video would finally push the calm, distinguished Grand Admiral over the edge. He was always a generous lover, that being somewhat of a massive understatement, but you could tell he was holding something back. During your most intimate moments, you could see it. Something sharp, dark, and glittering rose to the surface, and Thrawn pushed it away every time.

What would Thrawn be like if he fully let go? That thought sent delicious shivers down your spine, and his final audio message played on repeat in your head.

“Ch’eo ch’itiseb, you know you really shouldn’t tease me like this.”

Thrawn’s voice was normally a seductive purr, but that audio message…. It embodied the dark edge of him you had been longing to experience.

You felt your core clench as you desperately tried to re-focus on the screen in front of you, but an all-too-familiar presence suddenly appeared behind you. All of your racing thoughts screeched to a halt as that same smooth voice you were fantasizing about was now whispering in your ear. “Bat in’a….”

Thrawn’s warm breath was caressing your neck, raising goosebumps, and sending a chill down your spine. Your breath hitched almost imperceptively as he continued, “I see your gift fit you well; it certainly does seem like you enjoyed it.”

Your lover’s reflection was showcased on the darkened computer screen you were so intently studying. His eyes were half-lidded and blazing with barely contained desire. The knowledge that all the bridge officers were obliviously going about their duties while the most powerful man on the ship was leaned over and whispering sinful things in your ear was almost too much to handle. You had no choice but to blush and avert your gaze so you could keep some shreds of your dignity intact.

“Y… Yes, Grand Admiral. I did.” You may have been flustered, but you were feeling coy enough to tease him slightly. A “yes, sir” would have been sufficient, but you knew full well what Thrawn felt when you called him by his full title.

As if on cue, a growl so quiet and low you barely heard it emanated from the man behind you. Thrawn’s usual soft tone sharpened; the mysterious darkness resurfaced, and his perfect Imperial presentation cracked in half. The accent he worked so hard to conceal, the same one you loved to tease out of him, now marred his words. “Careful, Commander, if you want to be able to walk tomorrow, I suggest you close that pretty little mouth.”

Your mouth shut so fast on reflex that your teeth clacked together. His tone was utterly predatory; Thrawn, usually so prim and composed, sounded like he was moments away from ordering everyone off the bridge so he could fuck you now. But, stars, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t fantasizing about it now.

Your naked body flushed with desire, pressed up against the icy cold transparisteel of the viewport, and presented to the galaxy by your lover. Thrawn commanding your body as masterfully as he does his flagship, pushing you right up to the edge of completion before withdrawing, edging you over and over again until you can barely stand on your own. His muscular body pinning you in place against the wall, hell-bent on making you rely only on him for support, as he fucks you mercilessly from behind. Thrawn’s thick, ridged cock splitting you open and hitting spots so deep you see new stars appear in the galaxy with every thrust. The curved transparisteel to your side showing a perfect reflection of your bodies intertwining as Thrawn pulls your head aside to kiss and nip at your neck……..

Your blush turned at least three shades deeper as you shoved the thoughts aside. Thank the stars that most of the officers were gathered around a terminal on the other side of the bridge, or they would undoubtedly know exactly what was occurring between the Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy and his Commander.

Like flipping a switch, Thrawn’s cool, Imperial tone resurfaced in an instant. “Apologies, ch’eo ch’itiseb, I have distracted you from your duties for too long.

Wordlessly, you watched him straighten, pick an invisible speck of lint off his already pristine jacket, and resume his usual impassive expression. The blue bastard had the nerve to walk away and leave you flustered in the middle of the command bridge as if nothing had even happened. As he walked away, you saw the barest hint of a smirk ghost across his face. He wasn’t sorry at all.

-----------

The rest of the day crawled by. Thrawn obviously had some plan for the evening, but not knowing the details meant the suspense was absolutely eating you alive. You managed to slog through the rest of your day without any major inconveniences, but as soon as it ended, you nearly ran to your quarters to prepare.

After showering and letting your hair dry, you turned your attention to what you would wear. Of course, Thrawn’s request that you wear the lacy, red set was a given, but you couldn’t exactly walk down the hallways of the Chimaera in that. You decided that it would be best for your trip to Thrawn’s office to seem like it was purely one of the extra duties you were finishing. You put on one of your looser fitting uniforms, hoping to hide the lines of the lingerie, and tied your hair back into its usual bun before leaving.

When you finally arrived at Thrawn’s office, the door slid open with a cool hiss of hydraulics as soon as you reached for your comm. You laughed softly to yourself. Well, he was definitely anticipating my arrival.

As you stepped through the door, you saw Thrawn’s back as he leaned over his desk. He seemed to be watching something quite intently, and as you kept walking forward, you began to hear hints of quiet audio. Before you reached his side, Thrawn paused what he was watching and turned his head to acknowledge you. A dangerous smile played across his lips, “Commander, I was hoping you’d be here soon. You are just in time for my favorite part.”

You raised an eyebrow and shot him a questioning glance, “What… what do you mean?”

His smile widened enough to show off his pointed teeth, “I do believe you should know exactly what I’m referring to because you played a starring role in it, ch'eo ch'itiseb.”

At that moment, you felt your soul leave your body. Kriffing sith hells, he saved it.

You didn’t think it was possible for his smug smile to get any bigger, but it did. “Oh, bat in’a, of course, I would save something so… artfully done.”

Thrawn stepped aside, and you were greeted by a projection of your video displayed between the other holos of priceless artwork on his desk. It was stopped at a very particular moment; you reclined on his bed with your legs spread open. One hand rested on your thigh, and the other was settled on your chest.

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could, Thrawn hit a button, and the video continued to play. Breathlessly, you watched as your head lolled to the side, and Thrawn’s name left your lips in a broken moan. One of your hands pushed the lace aside to slip two fingers deep inside your cunt, and the other rolled a peaked nipple between your fingers.

A pang of lust immediately overcame any embarrassment you felt in the moment as you realized exactly what Thrawn must’ve felt when watching the video. Even though you had intended for the circumstance to be slightly different, it must’ve absolutely killed him to be away from you for that night and the several days following it.

Before you could react, Thrawn had closed the remaining distance and pinned your back against the wall. He leaned in to lavish his attention on the shell of your ear and whispered, “Naughty little thing….. teasing a Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy like that. I could’ve canceled the trip to come back and fuck you, but then I would have been giving in. You obviously need to learn a lesson in patience.”

One of his powerful hands pulled your wrists above your head and roughly pinned them to the wall. A gasp fell from your open lips and your legs involuntarily clenched together as your cunt throbbed with desire. Watching the video had already lit a familiar fire in you, but now you could feel your arousal beginning to soak the thin, lacy material of your panties. Thrawn’s already wicked smile turned feral, and he forced his thigh between your legs. He grabbed your jaw and tilted your face up to look at him.

“Ch'eo ch'itiseb,” he cooed, “you don’t get any relief quite yet. You were so eager to tease me with that video, but now it’s my turn. Tonight, I get to take my time with you.”

As if to prove his point, Thrawn flexed and shifted his muscular thigh, so a hard ridge of muscle lined up perfectly with your clit. “It’s what you deserve, after all, for trying to tease me. You looked drunk with your own imagined power, writhing in my bed and begging for me…..”

All you could do was whimper at his sinful words as he tilted your face to the side again. You let out a low groan as Thrawn pulled the collar of your uniform aside and lavished all of his attention at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, taking turns sucking and kissing until he had left a noticeable mark. He hummed in approval at his work before trailing a line of kisses up the column of your neck, only to immediately double back and follow the line with his tongue.

Thrawn was the definition of commanding as he gazed down on you, already keening from his touch. He clicked his tongue in a mockingly disapproving manner as he moved his hand to trace the outline of the hickey. “Such a needy little whore for me. Maybe I should mark you up, so everyone knows you’re taken.”

He trailed a long, graceful finger up the side of your neck as if deciding exactly where to claim you next before stopping at the tender pulse point below your jaw. “I think here, to start.”

Another breathless whimper left your mouth as you tried to grind against his thigh, searching desperately for any purchase you could find, but Thrawn just pushed you harder into the wall, leaving you unable to move at all. “A visible mark on a pretty thing like you will have the whole ship wondering who owns this precious cunt.”

Thrawn paused to capture your lips in an all-consuming kiss that further ignited the flame burning deep in your core. By now, your panties were completely soaked through; arousal was beginning to trail down your leg, and your lover hadn’t even taken your clothes off yet.

The barest hint of the friction you were desperate for and his sinful words made you melt further into his embrace as you made another futile attempt to grind against his thigh. “P-Please… Thrawn... I need you to touch me. Take my clothes off. Anything.”

His silken voice was infuriatingly smooth, and it was apparent Thrawn was enjoying his revenge. “Well, bat in’a, you begged so sweetly for me, and now here I am. You’re going to get everything you asked for, but I decide how much you get and when to give it. Maybe my little dove will know better than to tease me after her own lesson in patience is completed.”

Thrawn swiftly stepped backward, and your knees crumpled at the sudden lack of support. He reached out and gracefully caught you; one of his strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you felt the other behind your knees. Before you even fully realized it, your lover had quite literally swept you off your feet and was carrying you towards his private quarters. Thrawn’s burning eyes met your lust-addled gaze, and his smug smile returned, “Already weak at the knees for me, ch’eo vir?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but at that moment, your back hit the silken black sheets of his bed. If the unexpected fall hadn’t taken your breath away, the sight of Thrawn’s powerful form leaning over you absolutely would’ve. Even fully clothed, you could see the hard lines of his muscles shift and move beneath his uniform. His arousal was becoming more apparent by the second as his thick cock strained against the fabric of his pants. You wanted to feel its heavy weight in your mouth so badly you had to bite your bottom lip to stifle a moan.

Thrawn curled his long fingers beneath your chin and traced his thumb over your plush lips, “Open your pretty little mouth for me; I want to hear every single sweet sound you make tonight.”

When you complied, he slipped the calloused digit inside to rest on top of your tongue. You met his gaze again as you licked up the underside of his thumb before briefly closing your mouth to suck on it.

Thrawn let out a groan that trailed off into a low growl. Removing his thumb, he leaned down for another kiss. The first brush of his lips was almost reverent in its gentleness, but that soon gave way to searing passion. Thrawn’s hunger for you seemed to grow as his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, seeking permission to deepen your embrace. You yielded to him completely, hands reaching to cup Thrawn’s face as his soft, breathy moans mixed with your own until he pulled away.

“Thrawn…..” you protested at the sudden loss of contact.

“You would do well to remember that tonight is about you learning patience,” he admonished as his fingers sought the closure of your uniform. “For now, I wish to see you.”

The air in his bedroom seemed to fill with electricity as he slowly undid your uniform jacket. Every so often, his fingers would barely graze your skin as they worked away at the fastenings, raising goosebumps and sending a thrill down your spine at the anticipation of each touch.

As soon as the last clasp fell open, Thrawn leaned back to admire you. “Look at you….” his tone of voice was reverent as he trailed his fingers across your décolletage, “cseo cssah bat.”

You arched into his touch, encouraging him to remove the rest of your uniform. Thrawn tossed the clothing unceremoniously to the side and pulled the pins from your hair, letting it fall and frame your face. One of his hands reached down to tangle itself in your hair. “You look just like you did in the video,” he cooed, “tell me, are you as hungry for my touch now?”

“Yesyes, please, Thrawn. Please touch me,” you pleaded.

His red eyes blazed at the desire in your voice, “remove my clothes, then.”

You eagerly started to unfasten his white uniform shirt, drawing a short chuckle from the normally reserved Chiss. “Cseo ch’itrico...”

Each exposed inch of Thrawn’s beautiful skin spurred the movement of your hands until his jacket lay open and his muscular chest was on full display. Now, it was finally your turn to touch him. Your fingers trailed hungrily down the center of his chest over hard lines of muscle and old scars to hook into the waistband of his pants. Finally, he shrugged the jacket off and threw it to the side to join the growing pile of clothes.

In one fluid motion, Thrawn pulled you up and into his lap. Being this close to him was absolutely intoxicating; the chill of his quarters combined with the warmth of his body and his deep, masculine scent was enough to send your head reeling. His hands continued their previous mission, trailing over your body, studying you as he would any of the priceless art pieces he was so fond of. They paid special attention to your breasts, rubbing your peaked nipples through the fabric. You couldn’t help but whimper at the delicious sensation, “mmmmhThrawn…..”

“Does that feel good?” he murmured into your ear before rolling his hips upwards, driving his erection against your core. You cried out in pleasure as he leaned forward to press a searing kiss on the soft swell of your breast. Your hands sought purchase in his hair as he bit the tender spot before soothing the sting with his tongue, leaving yet another mark on you.

Thrawn’s hand trailed down to drag two fingers over your clothed cunt, growling in approval as he discovered the thin garment was already completely soaked. He moved the strip of lace aside and repeated the movement before circling your clit, drawing more desperate cries from you. All the teasing combined with the anticipation from earlier already had you nearing your first orgasm. Then, without warning, Thrawn thrust two fingers deep inside, and you shattered with his name on your lips.

He let out his own moan at the sensation of your cunt milking his fingers as he fucked you through your orgasm. “Needy little thing, how many times are you going to cum for me tonight?”

Thrawn held his fingers up for you to see. Stars, your arousal was dripping down them. “Commander, you made a mess. It’s only proper you should clean up after yourself.” The mock-disapproval was back in his voice as he pressed them to your lips.

Your cheeks flushed at his words as you took the fingers into your mouth and sucked them clean. Thrawn leaned in for another kiss, “Don’t worry, I’ll have my own taste soon enough.”

He laid you back down and moved to kneel at the base of the bed, pulling your hips to the edge. You slid easily through the silken sheets, grasping them for stability as you felt Thrawn’s hot breath on the inside of your thigh. Once again, he languidly pressed open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin before sucking deep bruises into the tender flesh, murmuring quiet praises in Cheunh between each one. The kisses trailed higher and higher until his mouth was pressed intently against your soaked core.

He gently sucked at your clit before sliding his tongue in to taste you. Your grip on the sheets tightened as he devoured you like a starving man, drinking you in and bring you closer and closer to ruin as he held your hips in an iron grip. You ground against his mouth, desperately chasing your second orgasm as he returned to sucking your clit. He let out a low growl of approval at your desperation, and the vibrating sensation on his lips pushed you screaming over the edge.

Again, Thrawn fucked you through your orgasm before raising his face to look you in the eyes. The calm, composed Grand Admiral was long gone. Pieces of his dark hair had fallen into his face, which shined with your arousal. His red eyes were half-lidded but smoldering with unrestrained lust. “You’ll give me another,” he demanded, returning his attention to your cunt.

For the second time that night, he pushed two fingers deep inside, seeking the spongy spot that would turn you into even more of an incoherent mess. You whined at the feeling of overstimulation, but you were just as hungry for him as he was for you. Thrawn moved back up to ravish your neck with more kisses while he slipped a third finger inside. The wet sounds they made would have been deeply embarrassing to you under any other circumstance, but the noises only encouraged your lover. “Tell me, ch’eo ch’itiseb, were you this wet when it was your own fingers inside of you?”

He gave a particularly rough thrust and grinned wickedly, “I don’t recall your cunt being this musical in the video.”

You were in such a blissful, fucked-out state that it was nearly impossible to form any words, but somehow you managed to speak, “Thrawnnnnn…. pleasepleaseplease…... need you inside me now.”

It was altogether too much. You came hard, soaking the sheets underneath you and drawing a pleased growl from Thrawn.

This time, he withdrew his fingers immediately, leaving your cunt spasming in his absence. Again, you protested weakly, but the sight of him finally removing his pants immediately stopped your complaints. It was a sight you’d never tire of, one you could appreciate even when you were this far gone. Thrawn was breathtaking; his lithe, muscular body had been sculpted from a lifetime of training and discipline. His cock was equally beautiful, large and thick, with pronounced ridges running along the side. He looked like a figure from one of his paintings as he walked towards you, a god of war hell-bent on making you his greatest conquest.

All need for words was long gone as he returned to the bed. Thrawn was as desperate as you; he ripped through the thin, lacy material in his way and trailed his cock along your slit, coating it with your combined arousal. He entered you in one swift movement, and the word fell away. You felt the delicious stretch of him, teasing the line between pleasure and pain as he began to fuck you at a relentless pace. With each snap of hips, yours rose to match the pace, and you saw stars. Thrawn tangled his hands in your hair and pulled you into an all-consuming kiss. He greedily captured each moan, every sigh that fell from your lips. Your fourth orgasm was quickly on the way, and you could tell that your lover wasn’t far behind.

All of the earlier teasings seemed to have affected him as much as they affected you. Thrawn pulled your hips upwards, and the new angle sent him deeper and deeper with each thrust. You felt this tip of his cock hit so incredibly far inside that it sent you reeling as the sound of your lovemaking filled the room. The lingering pleasures from all your previous orgasms were piling on top of each other, driving you closer and closer to a final climax that you were sure would leave you unable to walk tomorrow. Thrawn locked his gaze with yours, watching tears of pleasure run down your face. “So… close….. I can feel you, cseo tsaco -so tight- around me. Cum for me once more,” he commanded with the barest hint of desperation in his voice.

That was all the encouragement you needed before the most intense orgasm of your entire life swept over you. You bit down hard on the juncture of Thrawn’s neck and shoulder to keep from screaming his name loudly enough to tell the entire crew of the Chimaera exactly what was happening. He exhaled sharply as he continued to ride out your orgasm, but the feeling of your cunt greedily clenching around his cock was too much. Thrawn came with a groan, coating your walls with his seed as his pace slowed to a halt.

Your spent bodies fell on the bed together in the afterglow. Thrawn remained inside of you, and you enjoyed the closeness as you felt him soften. He pulled you into a tight embrace, placing a tender kiss on your temple as he softly smiled. “I missed you too, bat in’a.”

Tagging some friends: @pala-din-djarin @handbaskethell @mittheresabosen @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @bluecynadi @ele-millennial-weirdo @mysticalgalaxysalad @rebelpitstop @jedi-mando @tibbietibbs @rexsjaigeyes @anna-the-godkiller @erinsusername @myevilmouse