#Retrofitted Mines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lucabyte · 7 months ago

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your ocs!!!!! please ramble about them!!!!

i love your art so much

(GRABS YOU) H. CAN DO BOSS.

So ! My ocs. I guess I'll do an overall explainer for the overall groups. If you check out my Toyhouse (LINK!) there's a bunch of folders up top that are how I categorise them. It's primarily by universe except for the folders that are just "misc."

So folder 1: Blatant favouritism:

These are silly little guys that don't fit in any specific wider universe, but I really really like. So I'll spotlight the two important ones before i get real in the weeds with my main universe.

In here are notably, my Fursona (self explanatory), Ali and Pittsburgh Cincinnati. There's also Hauntkit and Clearpelt who are warriorcats ocs that *is dragged away by airport security*

... So, Pittsburgh, lovingly sometimes called pissbug, is a weird little Thing who I made as like, an homage to characters like happy bunny and Sweetypuss. She (and her weird dog) exist to stand next to strange and offputting captions. I love her. No further context. She's just silly. and violent.

Now. Ali.

Ali Alighieri has thoroughly stolen the show, and also ties into the next folder along, Making Your MK.

With over a hundred extra images compared to second place (Sorry, Tabitha). Ali is my fucked up little scrunkly. My little baby guy. They're a shared character of mine and @samhainian's, and is from their Creature Feature setting (A modern fantasy setting wherein Cryptids and Magic are real but in our modern world.) They are as such, a modern human young adult... Who is also a demon + magic user.

Strange little pansexual altersex genderqueer poetry-nerd that they are... The modern setting also means they are literally just a tumblr user. A fellow countryman, so to speak.

HOWEVER.... Ali's true origin was in *Purrgatorio*, a scrapped visual novel of mine set in the MYMK universe! They were simply retrofitted into CF as the joke with Purrgatorio was that a regular human had mysteriously just shown up in MYMK's pure-furry setting.... And then when we scrapped the project we got all attatched to our little not-so-blank-slate protagonist. But I'll put a pin in Purrgatorio for later.

Making Your MK.

(Guest of honour: My super unfinished website <3)

Okay so here's the big one. The setting with.... (looks at spreadsheet) 109 characters not including so-called incidentals. At time of writing.

MYMK is home to... Multiple stories. As you would hope when a setting has 100+ characters. I'd wager each story has about 10-20 relevant characters tops but with a big shared universe like this there gets to be overlap between casts!!! Yay !!! 😊😊😊

MYMK is the name of the main story in the setting. Pronounced "Making your Mark", it is centered around Markus Felidae (The purple one) and their family. It's very action-adventure-y. It's also the plot I'm most secretive about the backend of since I WILL!!!!! Turn it into a nice prose story with pictures SOMEDAY!!!!! But for now tee hee hee secrets secrets. Markus' family is strange and ragtag and is keeping something from them... I can't ramble on too long here unless further prompted in asks about specifics but!!! Everyone in the MYMK folder has a fully furbished little profile with a blurb about them. So if you're curious....

But yeah, I tend to think of the MYMK setting more in terms of its Locations than its Casts, due to the overlapping nature of them all. The Malbranche may be the villains of the main plot, but they're also major players in relation to The Palsgrave who are the antagonists of Moraine, etc etc,

The country everything in MYMK is set in is called New Orphidian, Southern hemisphere little thing, here's a very cartoony map of it.

Um. Cliffside!

Since it's the best map I have... Here's an exclusive sneak peek of a Zine I'll be getting back to once the fandom brain cools down a bit.... :3c

(... I REALLY NEED TO DO A TOUR AROUND THE MINECRAFT CLIFFSIDE SAM AND I BUILT..... IT'S SO CUTE....)

Cliffside is situated on a big ol' Cliff.

A tiny hamlet of a place, it used to have reason to exist, and now does not. It's not even a good tourist locale, as the cliff is much too dangerous compared to the nicer tourist spot of Welkin just a little north. Not to mention nearby Moraine's allure as a tax haven with no labour laws place where a bunch of TV and Movies are filmed!

It's where most of MYMK's main cast reside (except the antagonists from the Big City Varmonte), and is as such a location I have a lot of tiny little worldbuilding thoughts about :)

I won't go into the other locations here just because then this post will SUPER get away from me but... I think most importantly for Cliffside right now...

Is that it's where Purrgatorio is set. Yes, that VN I said got scrapped. It's not dead. It is in fact serving it's original intended purpose as "A (mostly) noncanon exploration of character voice and setting"

It's back and its prose babeyyyyyyy!!! (A BUNCH OF THE EARLY STUFF IS ME BEING SUPER RUSTY ... BE WARNED)

Purrgatorio is currently the most publicly available coherent work I have out of my ocs! It's very low-stakes and serves mostly to bash my toys together and see what character dynamics come out, but you can look if you want to!

(There's also a whole THING on the meta of its Canonicity... It's not canon, but it's also not NOT canon. But if I talk about Metanarrative Timeline Collapse in my normal mundane non-magic setting im gonna sound bonkers ✌)

Ali's dynamics with the MYMK cast are so goddamn funny to me. Like I literally just handed my OCs some ET shit but ET is a sexually repressed tumblr user with a mood disorder.

But yeah I don't think I can coherently string together much more about MYMK without just actually explaining THE WHOLE PLOT.... Though I will absolutely elaborate on any given character's Whole Deal if i'm prompted. (OH MY GOD I DIDNT EVEN TALK ABOUT CHROME AND TABITHA. WAIT. OKAY THERE'S. OK NO IF I TALKED ABOUT THEM IT'D JUST END UP AN ESSAY ,SORRY..)

So here's some bonafide classic images for the road.

(IF TUMBLR BREAKS THE FORMATTING AND JUST PUTS THESE ONE AFTER THE OTHER INSTEAD OF IN A GRID IM SO SORRY LMAOOOOO)

... And as for the other folders on my toyhouse!

Misc and Fandom are what they sound like. Self explanatory,

Then, Ysden is @samhainian's fantasy setting. It's where our DnD games happen to be set but it's also a general fantasy setting :)

and Monster of the Week... Is currently being revamped! It used to be a modern world setting with hidden magic, now it's going to be more... Adventure Time-y. Fantasy world get iphone. Yknow. It has a lower Age Rating than MYMK's "anything goes", as it started as a Pitch Bible Project in my animation class. They're a little neglected but I still love them :) The revamp is extemely recent and not reflected in any of the art/writing yet but I'm workin on it. It still doesn't have a proper title..... OTL

So yeah!! Uh. This wasn't as comprehensive as I was hoping but it turns out I have way, WAY too many thoughts on my guys. And no idea what to do when im actually asked about them so !!!! This was not a very coherent ramble but it was a ramble !

There's things like essays on Chrome and Tabitha (Link) and also The Queer Gender Identities Of The Whole Cast (Link) hiding around on my toyhouse, and once again, Purrgatorio (Link) serves as my sandbox for playing with how these characters act in situations.

But..... ! I did try to make my toyhouse approachable for the average layman. Every character in the MYMK folder (Link) has a *blurb* of information, rather than a giant wall of text explaining everything about them. I want people to be able to understand their general vibe at a glance rather than be overwhelmed.

In any case ???? Uh. Fun game for everyone: If you know your homestuck classpect, every single MYMK character has a classpect and lunar sway. and a birthday. Try and find your andrew-hussie assigned kin! As a Prospitian Witch of Heart, I share my classpect and lunar sway with Chrome. No I don't know what this means. It worries me honestly he's kind of an asshole.

#oh my god this is so long and not coherent at all anon i love you thank you so much for asking but this is unintelligable from me LOL #long post #EVEN LONGER IF TUMBLR BREAKS THE FORMATTING WHICH IM SUPER SCARED IT WILL DO #but yeah. BURSTS INTO TEARS. I LOVE MY LITTLE GUYS THERES LIKE 10 YEARS UPCOMING OF DEV ON THEM ITS UNWEILDY #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING AUGH.... SORRY THIS IS MOSTLY JUST SAYING TO LOOK AT MY TOYHOUSE LOLLL #but if anyone catches your eye dear reader feel free to ask about them in specifics? even if they seem niche or under-drawn...#i will have had a lot of thoughts on them. no matter what.#also my toyhouse doesnt make it clear whos trans gender because i only list pronouns and not gender identity but . theres a bunch.#i have so many goddamn nonbinary characters who use binary pronouns too its . i realise i make it hard to tell LOL #anyway the classpect assigned kinnie thing is my fav thing to do. everyone should do this with their ocs #lucabytetalks #LUCABYTETALKS LIKE. A LOT. THIS TIME. THIS IS SO DISORGANISED GOOD LIRD.....

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djarrex · 2 years ago

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Got Some Time

Captain Rex x f!reader

masterlist | read on ao3

With the way the Galaxy has changed and the danger lingering around those who know too much, Rex uses what little downtime he has while braving it all to appreciate what he has.

18+ only | about 2.2k words | smut. mild angst. garage quickie. Rex gets a little filthy, as is his right. Keeping it as vague as possible and characters nameless, but I'll go ahead and say *spoiler alert* bc this does take place right before Rex's appearance in s2e7 of tbb and runs along with that.

The massive hangar door rumbles as it struggles to slide open, Rex returning from the platform after taking a call. He tucks his comm back into his pocket as the door slowly shuts behind him, an uneasy feeling made clear in his features. You approach him and he pinches his temples – scrubs a hand down his face.

You raise your hand to cup his cheek, and Rex leans right into it.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was a contact of mine. I need to get him off-world.”

“Now?”

“Soon. It’s risky, but I have a plan.”

You step aside, letting Rex pass by you to get to the speeder the Martez sisters had left for the two of you while you lay low in their garage here in the lower levels of Coruscant. You worry your lip, watching as he checks out the newly-retrofitted speeder, ensuring everything is in working order.

“They’re being picked off, one by one,” Rex says over the brief rumble of the speeder turning on then off again. “More and more clones are being silenced for knowing too much.”

You step towards him and lean against another speeder, this one halfway taken apart. “What happened now?”

“Just found out that one of the clones who was aboard Rampart’s Venator during the destruction of Kamino was killed, right outside of 79’s of all places. My contact was also aboard that Venator, and was there at 79’s.”

“And now he’s in trouble,” you finish.

Rex nods. “Didn’t tell me much else, only that we’d talk after I got him far away from Coruscant. But I know he’s in danger. The Empire isn’t taking kindly to the growing number of clones who are waking up to what’s been done to them.”

“I thank the universe every day that you made it out when you did.”

“So do I – and for finding you.”

Rex reaches for you and pulls you close, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. He holds you like that, his hands cupping your cheeks when you begin to feel his tongue glide along your lips, a soft hum coming from his throat when you parrot his gesture. You feel the way Rex starts to deepen the kiss – the urgency. It makes you smile against him, and you playfully nip his bottom lip.

You break apart, swiping your thumb along his jaw.

“You’re insatiable, Rex.”

“Maybe…” he chuckles before continuing more seriously, “but I know what I have and I’m not taking it for granted.” He grabs your hands, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “This Empire, the end of the war – it’s all uncharted territory for us clones, and even though I’m not the type of man to sit back and do nothing, I will for damn sure savor and appreciate the gifts I’ve been given in a galaxy that was not designed to welcome me as anything more than a pawn.”

Rex chews his lip in thought, casting his eyes downward before continuing. “Makes me wonder if those men also had someone special in their lives. Someone else worth making the galaxy better for.”

You soothe a hand along his back and rub circles into the thick fabric and padding, pressing roughly enough to reach his muscles. When he looks back at you, you see every thought in his head – a holofilm playing in his eyes.

“Admittedly, at times I wish you were the man to sit back and do nothing. It’s selfish of me, but you’d be safer that way.” You pause, turning your head away from him briefly before looking back into his eyes again, taking his hands into yours. “But I love the man you are because you’re always willing to do what’s right, to help anyone you can, no matter what it takes.”

Rex smiles warmly, releasing your hands as you turn to walk towards the Martez’s crate of provisions, set on gathering up some ration bars and dried fruit for his op. You rifle through the crate, tossing aside bolts and bacta patches that have somehow found their way into the food supply, when Rex’s strong arms wrap around you, his body molding to your back.

He places soft kisses just below your ear, trailing his lips along your neck. His hands start to wander, the fabric of his gloved fingers teasing the skin of your sides just under the hem of your top.

You drop your head, shaking it with amusement while smirking down at the open crate. “You gotta get going, Rex,” you tell him in a soft voice.

“I’ve got some time,” he reasons. As you’re standing up straight, you’re turned around to face him. “I don’t need to be at the rendezvous point for another hour. It’ll take me half that time to get there, less than that if I’m not as… discrete.” He chuckles, but you narrow your eyes at him in warning.

“Don’t even joke about that!”

“Sorry,” he chuckles again. “The point is, love, I’ve got time. Not much, but–”

Your hand cups the slight bulge in Rex’s pants, squeezing it teasingly and his eyes go wide, the golden brown steadily darkening. “Well, then, you’d better get these off.”

He visibly gulps, the muscular cords of his neck strained.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Both of you make quick work at unfastening and peeling off each other’s clothing and accessories, casting the articles to the ground in a haphazard heap. Rex’s lips return to your skin, this time gently suckling at your collarbone, not even looking at he starts to slowly walk to two of you in another direction, stopping when the backs of your thighs hit the edge of a workbench. You’re quickly lifted onto the workbench, a little squeak coming from your lips when your bare skin is bitten by the cold durasteel surface.

Wedging himself between your thighs and splaying his hands on either side of your hips, Rex knocks over a toolbox in his haste to position himself, spare parts and miscellaneous bolts clattering to the floor.

You wince at the loud noise and residual ring that echoes through the garage, and your hand flies to his bare chest, breaking the two of you apart. You’re staring wide-eyed at the mess of parts scattered all over below you and once again you’re shaking your head at him.

"Rafa is gonna kill us."

Rex simply shrugs it off, his lips ghosting over yours with a gentle grasp of your chin to face him instead of the mess. “We’ll clean up before they get back.”

“We,” you scoff against his lips, breathing in his soft chuckle. “While you’re out there being the handsome, selfless hero you are, I will be here, cleaning up the mess and organizing that abomination of a provisions crate.”

His grin shrinking to a sexy smirk, Rex takes a step back – runs two thick fingers through your folds.

“I’ll make it up to you, love.”

He pops the pair into his mouth, eyes shutting in ecstasy, then pulls his glistening fingers out from between his lips.

Every coherent thought flees your mind when his fingers return to toy with you, threatening to slide into you and not yet offering enough pressure to your clit.

“Always so wet for me,” he says deeply, lust and amusement twinkling in his dark eyes. “No matter where we are, you’re always ready to take me, hm?” Rex takes your chin into his free hand, angling your face directly at his. “My sweet, filthy girl. I love you so much.”

A small flip in your stomach at Rex’s comment makes you whimper a pathetic agreement, a sound that morphs into a soft moan as he maneuvers the head of his cock at your folds, guiding it through the slick and catching at your clit with every swipe.

“You want me to fuck you just like this, baby?”

He grips himself tight, entering you one measly inch before pulling out, toying with your clit before once again sliding in only the thick head. Mouth agape and eyes glued to his teasing ministrations, you nod absently, feeling yourself heat with anticipation.

“Tell me,” Rex commands, then a softer: “Tell me what you want, love.”

“Please, Rex – fuck me. Right here, just like this, baby. I want to feel you inside of me – wanna feel you so bad, Rex.”

You could almost feel ridiculously embarrassed at the pleading sound of your voice, but when Rex’s eyes squeeze shut as a soft curse filters through his lips, he quickly gives you what you want – what you both want. He slides himself all the way into your cunt, his hands grabbing the underside of your thighs and lifting your legs off the workbench’s surface. With the motion, your bottom slides closer to the edge, allowing Rex to notch himself as deep as possible, something you soon feel in your gut when he starts to thrust.

“So perfect,” he mumbles down to you through parted lips, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’m not gonna be able to stop thinking about this perfect pussy the entire op. Gods – look at you.”

Fuck, you are looking. You can’t stop looking – inebriated by the sight before you. Rex’s thick cock continuously drills into you, offering only a quick glimpse of the evidence of your arousal left coated all over it before it’s ramming the back wall of your cunt, over and over again. When your head starts to tip backwards from the overwhelming sensations, Rex releases your leg and cups the back of your head, keeping your focus directly on what he’s doing to you.

“No, no – keep your eyes here, mesh’la. Yes, good girl. That’s my good girl. Just like that. Fuck, you take me so well. So perfect – so beautiful.”

Rex is rambling – going on and on through clenched teeth and unabashed moans. His deep, velvety voice echoes through the garage – makes your toes curl. He gives and gives and gives, offering you his all. Your brows pinch together at the sudden wave of heat coursing through you, your thighs doing little damage as you squeeze his hips in a fruitless attempt to close your legs.

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” you manage through the punched-out breaths.

Rex brings his hand from the back of your head to your chin, his thumb prodding at your lips. You open for him, taking it all the way to the first knuckle, then he’s adding his pointer and middle finger, stuffing your mouth with the three and keeping them there.

“Fuck, that mouth. I’m close – wanna feel you cum on my cock first.”

Your moan is muffled, tongue dancing along his fingers in the way you know he likes when sucking him off.

Watching Rex attempt to keep it together in order to outlast you makes you cum quickly. And as soon as he feels the convulsing of your cunt strangling him, making his thrusts slow to a near halt, he cums shortly after, filling you while his groin is flush with yours. Holding like that, he removes his hand from your mouth and replaces it with his own, open-mouthed kisses too consuming to want to break away.

It’s Rex who separates the two of you at last, tapping his forehead against yours for a moment before pulling himself out from between your legs. Still breathless from the orgasm and the kiss, you watch as he goes to gather up your clothes, grinning at his cute lower back dimples and the way his glutes flex with each step.

He redresses first, quickly sliding up his briefs and pants then slipping on his undershirt and vest.

Rex returns to you with your clothes against his chest, fitting his fingers into his gloves before helping you onto slightly wobbly legs and offering up his sturdy arm for you to grab as you start to redress.

“Hate to do this, love, but I do need to go.”

He kisses you again, and you follow him as he heads towards the chest holding the rest of his accessories. You aid him in fastening his utility belt, making sure each pocket is stocked with necessities. As he secures his holster to his belt and slips on his boots, you gather some provisions, filling a canvas bag with the food and supplies before placing it in the speeder’s cargo crate.

“One last thing,” you say just as Rex starts to mount the speeder. You pull out the brown cloak from the bottom of his clothing chest, offering it up to him with a smirk.

“Can’t forget this.”

Rex chuckles and slips it over his head, giving you one last kiss before finally mounting the speeder.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. When I’m en route to the ship, I’ll contact you with more details.”

“Okay. I love you.” You wrap your arms around yourself, smiling at him as he starts the speeder. “Go be a hero. Be safe out there, Rex.”

The speeder lifts from the ground as Rex revs the engine, opening the hangar door with the remote control fitted into the dash.

“Always. And I love you too.”

He speeds through the garage, offering you one last hopeful smile before he’s pulling the hood over his head, driving off the platform and up out of the lower levels.

#been sitting on this one for a while lmao #about time to throw it out there #sorry no tags it's been too long and I've been a hermit for too long #djarrex writes #captain rex x reader #captain rex smut

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radioactivepeasant · 9 months ago

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Snippets: Free Day Thursday- Viper

Following the prompt from the poll: Haven finds out Jak isn't there for them. We pick up right after the boys fight Veger's robot in the mines and come up at the edge of New Haven.

"This place looks as bad as my old bedroom back home," Daxter scoffed. His keen eyes darted this way and that, looking for any sign of their fugitive.

"Jak! Over here!"

Jak tensed at Samos’s voice. He didn't sound surprised to see them. Onin might have warned him he was coming. Onin...she would be a problem if not dealt with. He'd have to consult with Damas about her.

When Samos called him again, sounding less sure of himself, Jak realized he hadn't reacted at all. Samos doubtless expected him to leap to attend him, as he had been thoroughly trained to do.

Did he want to blow his cover?

Hm. No. Not yet.

Jak turned on his heel and for a moment his heart leaped.

"Keira!"

Samos was forgotten as he rushed towards a shimmering wall that divided the waterfront from New Haven. A force field? Since when did Haven have force fields?! Jak made a note of it. Damas wanted reports; he was a captain now. He had power. That meant he needed to do things right.

"Jak!" Keira's entire face lit up. "I told you, Daddy. I told you I could feel his energy!"

She slapped her hand against the force field, ignoring the sting.

"You're alive-! Jak, I'm so sorry! I- I tried to get into the trial, they wouldn't let me in the building-! Or, or Tess, or Sig! They arrested us when we tried, didn't let us go until they'd taken you away!"

A warm glow spread through Jak's chest. Someone had fought for him. Keira had fought for him! And Tess, and Sig! In a city of vipers, he still had true friends.

Jak placed his own hand on the energy field, feeling the dull burn of its eco as he spread out his fingers over Keira's.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I don't blame you three. Not for any of it. Not for anything. I...I missed you."

Keira sniffled. "I missed you, too," she croaked, "What's it like out there? They say it's...it's nothing! That there's no way to survive! But you look-"

She cut herself off and blushed.

"What's really out there?"

Jak looked up at Daxter and smiled. Daxter nodded back. He didn't know what Jak was going to say, exactly. He'd never been a talker -- he'd really really never been a talker -- but Daxter had seen how proud of their new home Jak got. He couldn't help wanting to know what the big lug would say. Would he talk about the beach he loved so much? About Damas?

To his surprise, Jak only stared earnestly at Keira and whispered back, "Freedom."

Keira closed her eyes. "Freedom," she sighed. "I...thought I had that. Not so sure, now."

"That's why I came back."

Jak took a more guarded posture, casting his eyes about.

"I can help you. But I need your help, too."

Daxter opened the little communicator they'd stolen from the dead metalheads and retrofitted into a small holoprojector. The face of Thrax rotated above the plate, tattooed and scowling.

"You seen this guy?" he asked, waving the holo, "Name's Thrax. Real disreputable character."

Samos blinked at them in shock. "Jak, please, there isn't time! The passages under the palace, they must be terribly important!"

Jak spoke over him, raising his voice slightly. "He's a fugitive from justice. Wanted for treason. I'm under orders to bring him back, dead or alive."

"Under orders?"

Keira's face twisted with concern.

"Whose orders? Ashelin's?"

Daxter scoffed and slid down to sit more comfortably on Jak’s shoulder.

"As if! We have new friends. And they respect us! Heck, they actually like us!"

"And we respect them," Jak added, "So people trying to murder the man who saved my life don't get to walk away. Not from me."

Keira's jaw was tight. They both knew how she felt about him killing hu'men. One day, maybe she would let herself understand that it was no different from the enthralled Lurkers her father had sent Jak to kill when he was far, far too young to have blood on his hands. One day she would have to turn around and face that truth head-on. But Jak was beginning to understand at last that as long as Samos kept her within reach, it would be hard for her to slip the blinders off. It had taken exile for him to be free of his.

"I'll...I'll keep an eye out, and let you know if I see anyone like that." Keira swallowed hard. "It's been...I've been trying to get Veger's shield walls down. He cut Torn off from the city council hall, trapped him down on the waterfront. I think it's-"

Her voice trailed off, then, almost too quietly to hear,

"It's like...divide and conquer."

Anger hissed between Jak's teeth. "Of course it was Veger. He's had his hand in everything, hasn't he?"

He slammed his fist into the force field.

"He's the one who blew up the palace! Five hundred people dead, and for what?! So he could get to some catacombs underneath?!"

"And," Daxter said grimly, "so he could get the guy descended from the last ruler out of here. That guy is high on delusions of grandeur. Real heroes throw him off his groove."

"Catacombs?" Samos broke in, finally seeing a gap in the conversation that he could wedge himself into, "There must be something important down there for him to go to such lengths! Well, you're just going to have to find whatever it is before he does!"

"Oh I am, am I?" Jak asked.

Somehow Samos failed to hear the edge of danger in the boy's voice. He prattled on, patronizing as ever.

"Now, first you'll need to find another way into this section of the city. Take the sewers into the Port, then find a way north to reach us."

When the boys stayed still, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, it finally seemed to occur to the old man that he couldn't just give orders and expect them to be followed blindly anymore. With a touch of chagrin, he added, "And Jak...we're...sorry, for what happened. We should have stopped Veger."

"Yes." Jak turned his back. "You should have. Maybe you wouldn't have war on your doorstep if you'd acted."

"War?" Samos questioned, "With the metalheads?"

Daxter rolled his eyes. "Stumpy-boy, metalheads are about to be the least of your worries."

Jak took a few steps back, eyeing the buildings around him. Then he nodded to himself, got a running start, and launched up the side of the nearest row house.

Winds bless the guy in the youth barracks who'd taken the time to teach him free-running.

In no time at all he was on the roof with only a slight straining in his muscles to show for it. The shield wall only extended about a storey above them. Fair enough, they'd just have to follow the roofs to a higher building and cross from there.

Daxter flipped his goggles down over his eyes and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he scanned New Haven.

Pah. "New Haven". More like New Main Town. All he saw were the rich elite who had survived Veger dropping the palace on their high class district. Where were all the former inhabitants of the North Slum and Water Slum? Shoved into the ruined Main Town or crowded into the waterfront, he had no doubt.

"By the forges, I really hate this place," Jak whispered beside him.

"I don't blame ya, pal," said Daxter grimly. "Not even a little bit. C'mon, let's find Tess. If anyone knows how to find our guy, it's her."

Thrax could run. But there were only so many places he could hide.

Part Two planned for tomorrow

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #free day thursday #background dadmas #Keira Hagai #keira gets some of Samos’s lines because she deserves them more #every time i wonder if I'm just Samos bashing i watch the cutscenes #and then i realize that no I'm being rather charitable to the moldy stump #samos hagai #samos is the worst #viper au #jak has power and authority for the first time in his life and he's so determined to use them correctly #he's going to send damas a six page report full of literally every observation he can think of including what the shops are selling #damas thinks its adorable and keeps it in a drawer with a form Mar scribbled on as a toddler #Jak is here to recruit allies and LARP some Assassin's Creed

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feuer-in-soho · 1 year ago

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Heavier Frames also lend themselves to be retrofitted as mining equipment by the end user. Often redundant systems like infrared cameras and sensors are removed and new reactors and hydraulics installed. Any weapons are removed and replaced with mining equipment.

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ips-northstar-official · 1 year ago

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Update from CPT Markus Wright, 2nd Bulwark Division, Aradian militia. The recruit mentioned in our previous transmission has been promoted to corporal, and this has had some side effects for the entire militia. The idea of tuning frames to specialize them in the exact opposite tasks implied by their original design has caught on in several companies. Examples include:

5th Cavalier Corps; The Nelson frames that made the corps famous have been retrofitted with extremely unstable mine-laying equipment "Donated" by opposing Iskander-class frames. The results have been surprisingly effective, allowing them to lay a trail of mines and make anywhere they charge impassable. This has severely pissed off the post-combat cleanup teams.

4th Vanguard Division; The normally shotgun-fanatics piloting our Tortuga frames have decided that in CQB ship-board combat, rocket launchers and a "Donated" apocalypse rail would be ideal weapons. Surprisingly, we have seen significantly fewer pirates after information about this development had spread, one prisoner commenting: "Piracy? Are you fucking kidding me? WHY would I EVER do that near Aradia? Those fucking maniacs in their shipboard division use RPGs. In CQB. WHY?!?"

7th Aerial Response Wing; Monarch frames have been outfitted with war pikes, and one of them managed to get a fucking plasma gauntlet. No, I don't know what drove them to this either beyond their claims of "But it will be so anime!". I don't know what they are talking about. But releasing combat footage of the 7th ARW has proven immensely popular with the locals. That dude with the plasma gauntlet ended up melting his mech and himself the first time he deployed it, but it took 3 enemy swallowtails with it so IDK what to think.

Hello CPT Wright! We’re happy to hear back from you. While it certainly isn’t what we designed any of the IPS-N mechs mentioned here for, this kind of ingenuity is exactly what we love to see from our customers. We’d like to send these companies some extra munitions to assist them in continuing to break the norm and perform above and beyond.

Godspeed, pilots.

#lancer rpg #lancerrpg #intern’s note: send me the 7th’s footage please please PLEASE I need to see these melee Monarchs

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dystopicjumpsuit · 1 year ago

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Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 13

As the Wind

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 3.6k

Warnings and tags: suspense, some action, temporary hearing loss, Star Wars swearing

Suggested Listening:

Summary: The team undertakes an extraction mission, and Cerra sees a familiar face.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves in a field

Behaving as the wind behaves

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

Cerra’s contact network finally came through with a ship that satisfied all of their requirements for the Balmorra mission: an old mining vessel with an auxiliary leech. It didn’t have the speed or firepower they needed, but retrofitting it with upgraded thrusters and weapons would be fairly straightforward.

In a stroke of pure, unadulterated bad luck, the ship’s availability coincided with Cerra’s mission to Raada, which meant that Gregor and Rex were unable to provide backup on the operation. Gregor had been distant since their ill-fated excursion to the market, apparently unreconciled to Cerra’s decision to go ahead with the mission. Fireball and Echo accompanied her instead.

En route to Imperial military HQ, she changed into the scratchy wool officer’s uniform she’d “requisitioned.” Rex had taken a single look at it and declared that he didn’t want to know how she got it, which was probably for the best. The captain was willing to do whatever it took to get the job done, but he still balked at some of Cerra’s shadier dealings.

“Eyes front, trooper,” Echo barked.

Cerra turned in time to see Fireball snap to attention and stare fixedly out the front viewport with a guilty expression. She finished dressing quickly and went to stand behind Fireball’s seat.

“You need to get out more, buddy,” she said, punching his armored shoulder lightly.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” he replied stiffly.

She laughed, and he relaxed as his expression turned sheepish. “Been a while, has it, soldier?”

Fireball mumbled something about entire life under his breath, but Cerra opted not to torment him any further. The plan was for Echo to drop her off far enough from HQ that she wouldn’t be spotted leaving the ship. She would walk the rest of the way to the base and pass through security with a forged chain code that Echo had provided. Once inside, she would make her way to the Raada transport. Echo had also created a set of fake orders in case anyone questioned her presence.

She had spent the past week practicing a supercilious glare. Fireball had coached her on it, reminding her to treat the clones as subhuman if she wanted to escape detection. She hated it as much as she hated the kriffing itchy wool uniform.

“Tell me one more time what his armor looks like?” Cerra asked Fireball.

“You can’t miss it,” he grinned. “I painted it myself.”

He launched into a detailed description of Nemec’s exuberant armor paint job, complete with the story about how he convinced Nemec to let him do it in the first place.

“I’m surprised your armor isn’t flashier,” she said.

Fireball shrugged. “It was better camouflage on Kashyyyk. And then… I didn’t want to paint over it. Not when it reminded me of the commander.”

Cerra squeezed his shoulder in consolation, and they lapsed into silence. As they approached the drop zone, she felt a swirl of nervous anticipation in her stomach.

“Comms will be jammed as soon as you pass through security, so you won’t be able to call for help if anything goes wrong,” Echo said. “We’ll be monitoring chatter, but we can’t hear everything.”

“Let’s hope nothing goes wrong, then,” Cerra said. “I guess I’ll see you boys on Raada in three standard rotations. Wish me luck.”

Echo grunted, and Fireball just stared at her with wide eyes. She snapped to attention and gave them a textbook salute.

“How do I look?” she asked.

“Like you never left,” Echo said.

Cerra pulled a face, then turned and headed for the back hatch of the ship. Before she could reach it, a hand closed around her elbow, and Fireball spun her around into a crushing hug.

“Thanks, Cerra,” he whispered.

She hugged him back and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to get your brother back, Fireball. I promise you.”

He gave her one last tight squeeze, then lowered the ramp. She walked out of the ship and immediately ducked down an alleyway, following it to the opposite side of the block, and then turned and walked briskly toward HQ. She passed the First Battle Memorial and joined the security queue at the main entrance.

Her heart began to pound as the queue slowly advanced. She kept her face carefully neutral and focused on controlling her breathing. By the time she reached the front of the queue, her hands were sweating inside her gloves, but they were steady enough as she presented her counterfeit chain code for inspection.

The TK trooper at the gate barely glanced at the code before waving her through. She walked calmly through the entrance, trying not to think that she was about to lose all contact with her squad. She fought the urge to gawk at the changes to the base since she had last been there. At that point, it had still been the Republic Center for Military Operations. Still, not so much had changed that she couldn’t find her way around, and she headed straight for the airfield.

“Lieutenant Kilian?” an unmistakably clone voice asked.

Cerra nearly turned, but she caught herself just in time and kept walking, not acknowledging the question. Her mouth went dry, and her pulse hammered in her ears. Just keep walking, just keep walking.

A hand grabbed her by the elbow, exactly where Fireball had caught her only moments before. She spun around to face her assailant, and her stomach dropped with dread as she recognized his 501st-blue painted armor.

“Cerra Kilian?” the clone repeated.

Nax, she realized. She would recognize that hairstyle anywhere.

“You’re mistaken, trooper,” she said, meeting his eyes and blatantly lying. “I’m Lieutenant Marchon.”

Nax froze, his hand still gripping her elbow. He knows. I’m going to die. She could feel the tide of panic rising in her chest, and she fought it down, remembering at the last moment to assume that haughty expression that Fireball had taught her.

“My mistake,” Nax said, releasing her arm. “Sorry, lieutenant. I thought you were someone else.”

Cerra straightened her uniform and tried to think of a response. What would a scughole Imp say right now? Something condescending and awful. Think!

“You can go about your business, lieutenant,” Nax said. “If you see Lieutenant Kilian, tell her I said hello.”

“Quite,” Cerra stammered. “Thank you, trooper.”

He nodded shortly, then turned on his heel and left. Cerra continued her rapid journey to the airfield, lightheaded with relief. She didn’t know why Nax hadn’t reported her, but she wasn’t going to stick around and find out. She hurried down the row of transports until she located the one she needed, keenly aware that at any moment she could be apprehended, and she would have no way of contacting Echo to let him know. If it happened, she would likely be dead before they ever discovered she’d been caught.

She showed her forged orders to the trooper guarding the transport, and he waved her through. Inside, she found a mixed force of clones and TK troopers. She appeared to be the only officer on board, which only made her stand out more. She kept waiting for the soldiers to turn their weapons on her, but it never happened. The last few troopers boarded, the ramp closed, and the transport launched.

Nax never called it in.

The troopers were eerily silent as the transport jumped into hyperspace with a shudder. There was no banter, no laughter, no speculation about their assignment. Just soundless, blank helmets, devoid of color or individuality. The clone troopers sat separately from the TK troopers, as though an invisible ray shield prevented them from commingling. It was going to be a long three days.

The Imperial base on Raada bustled with activity. More transports arrived each day, and though the buildings were prefabricated and lowered into place from a Star Destroyer, a huge amount of work still needed to be done to get the base fully supplied. Cerra had been in dozens of bases with this exact layout, so at least she didn’t have to worry about getting lost.

In fact, the commotion around the base could work to her advantage, as Nemec’s absence would be less noticeable amid the throngs of new arrivals. All she had to do now was locate him, convince him that she wasn’t an Imperial spy, and get him out. The first step shouldn’t be too difficult; Nemec’s flamboyant armor paint job would definitely stand out in the crowd of shiny TK troopers.

She headed for the mess hall, figuring it was as good a place to start as any. He wasn’t there, so next she checked the barracks, only to come up empty again. She fabricated an excuse to inspect the walker bay, and didn’t find him—though that had been a long shot. It occurred to her that she could be missing him by mere moments, but she couldn’t very well start asking random troopers if they’d spotted a clone in stunning green armor wandering around the base.

As the putative supply officer, she’d been allocated a small office, so she holed up inside it while she planned her next move. It would make the most sense to stake out either the barracks or the mess; at some point, Nemec would need to go to both of them. Her stomach rumbled, making the decision for her, and she headed to the mess hall.

There were a few officers inside, as well as several troopers. Once again, she noted that the clones sat apart from the TKs. She picked up a tray and moved through the line, feeling an odd sense of nostalgia as she ladled the unidentifiable beige sludge onto her tray. She found a seat with a clear view of the mess hall entrance. She sat alone, knowing that she would draw attention if she were the only natborn to sit with the clones.

As she ate, Cerra observed the strange dynamics of the room. Obviously, the clones had their own territory. The TK troopers had claimed a sizable chunk of the room as well. But what surprised her was that none of the officers sat with the TK troopers. They either clustered in small cliques or sat on their own as she did. It seemed that the Imperial hierarchy was much more rigidly enforced than it had been under the Republic.

She ate as slowly as possible, prolonging her surveillance of the mess, but at last, she could delay no longer. She dropped her tray at the bussing station and headed back to the hangar. If it took her much longer to locate Nemec, she would need to get her office set up to maintain her cover.

She rounded a corner and nearly collided with a group of troopers. As she stumbled backward, one of them reached out to steady her.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t see you there,” he said in a familiar voice.

Clones, she realized as she took in their armor. This group all had painted armor instead of the shiny white plastoid she’d mostly seen so far. She scanned the group for one in green, but didn’t see the unmistakable design Fireball had described to her.

“It was my fault,” she said. “I wonder if you could help me find someone, though?”

“Depends on who you’re looking for,” the trooper said.

“I’m trying to get my office set up, and I was told to ask for help from a clone trooper in green armor with a yellow—”

“That’d be Nemec,” a second trooper offered. “I think I saw him headed out for a patrol, but I can comm him for you.”

“Unless you’d prefer my help,” a third trooper said in a flirtatious tone as he shouldered his way to the front of the group. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Cerra bit back a laugh. “I’m flattered, but I think it would be best if I just go with the trooper assigned to me. I don’t want to risk scugging off the base commander the day I arrive.”

“Too bad,” the trooper replied. “If you change your mind—oof!”

The first trooper elbowed him in the ribs, hard. “She’s not interested, Crusher. Take a hint.”

“Nemec is on his way, sir,” the second clone said. “Where would you like him to meet you?”

“The hangar, please,” Cerra said, knowing that she was failing miserably at impersonating the cold, arrogant Imperials that Fireball had described.

“Do you need an escort?”

“I can find my way, but thank you for the offer, and for your help,” Cerra said, excusing herself.

She continued toward the hangar, keenly aware of the clones’ eyes following her. She forced herself to maintain a steady pace, though she wanted to break into a run. Finally, she turned another corner and was out of their view. She hurried the rest of the way to the hangar and arrived just as Nemec pulled in on a BARC speeder. Troopers milled about, unloading and stacking crates from the transport. She spotted a small bank of V-wings and hoped they wouldn’t be an issue during the extraction.

“Are you the supply officer?” Nemec asked as he dismounted.

“Yes, and you must be Nemec,” she said.

He nodded shortly. “Show me what you need.”

He did not sound thrilled to meet her, and she couldn’t blame him. He was an elite warrior, reduced to running menial errands for pampered officers. She showed him the crates with “her” gear, then led him to the office she’d been assigned. Once inside, she closed and locked the door.

Nemec whipped around, startled. Cerra raised her hands to show she meant him no harm.

“What kind of game are you playing?” he demanded, looming over her.

“Fireball sent me,” she said quietly.

Nemec went unnaturally still. “Who’s Fireball?” he asked cautiously.

“He said to tell you that the netcasters weren’t the worst thing about Kashyyyk.”

“It was the mud,” Nemec replied. “Who are you?”

“My name is Cerra Kilian,” she said. “I’m here to get you out.”

“Kilian?” Nemec asked, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t suppose you know—”

“He’s my uncle,” Cerra said. “When can you be ready to leave?”

“Now,” Nemec said immediately. “What’s the plan?”

“We need to get away from the base and meet up with Fireball and the rest of my squad at these coordinates,” Cerra said, displaying the rendezvous point on a small holoprojector. “Do you think you can get a BARC speeder without being noticed? It took longer to find you than I’d hoped, and we’re on a tight timeline. We’ll stand a better chance of making the rendezvous if we don’t have to go on foot.”

“I can get the bike, but it’ll be trickier to get away from the base without being spotted. They’ll notice a passenger. Unless you can come up with a convincing explanation, they’ll shoot us down.”

Cerra pondered the conundrum. “What is the Empire even doing on Raada?”

“Growing some kind of engineered plants for rations,” Nemec said.

“I can work with that,” she said. “I’ll say that as supply officer, I have been ordered to supplement the base’s rations with the local produce, and I’m conducting an inspection.”

“Which you’ve ordered me to assist,” Nemec said. “It could work. I hope you’re good at banthashitting.”

“I don’t have to banthashit; I was a supply officer for thirteen years,” Cerra said. “I can throw so much technical jargon at them that they won’t know if I’m even speaking Basic.”

“If you say so,” Nemec said doubtfully.

“I do,” Cerra said. “And one more thing: as far as the Empire knows, I’m Lieutenant Marchon. Let’s get going.”

They returned quickly to the hangar, and Nemec mounted the speeder as Cerra climbed into the sidecar. As he had predicted, the guards at the main entrance of the base ordered them to halt.

“Where are you taking this officer?” a TK trooper demanded.

“I’ve been ordered to take Lieutenant Marchon to the settlement to inspect the farms,” Nemec said.

“Under whose authority?” the trooper asked.

“Admiral Coburn,” Cerra replied in the most condescending Coruscanti drawl she could summon. “When he assigned me to Raada, he ordered me to supplement the base’s rations with the produce we grow locally. Would you care to ask him yourself?”

“No, ma’am. Proceed.” He waved them through the gate.

“Not bad,” Nemec said once they were safely out of earshot.

“It wouldn’t have worked on a clone,” Cerra said. “Lucky break.”

Nemec steered them toward the settlement until they were out of view of the base, then brought the bike to a halt.

“The speeder has a tracking beacon,” Nemec said. “We’ll need to take it off, or they’ll be able to follow us to the rendezvous.”

Cerra checked her chronometer. It was going to be close, but they would make it in time, assuming nothing went wrong. She hopped out of the sidecar and searched for the transmitter.

“Kriff, it’s hardwired in with a kill switch,” she said. “If I take it off, the bike won’t start.”

“What are we going to do, then?” he asked.

“Head toward the settlement. We’ll ditch the bike there and go the rest of the way on foot.”

“Won’t that put the farmers at risk once the Empire discovers we’re missing?” Nemec asked.

“Fine,” Cerra sighed. “We’ll get closer to the village, then I’ll sabotage the bike. It’ll look like an accident. Hopefully, the explosion will be big enough to explain the lack of bodies.”

“Oh, I can help with that,” Nemec chuckled, handing her a thermal detonator.

“That’ll do it,” she said.

They remounted the bike and sped toward the settlement. When they were about three klicks away, they stopped again, and Cerra quickly yanked a few wires. She set the detonator on a timer and started the bike.

“Start running,” she said, jamming the accelerator.

The bike zoomed away, shuddering violently. She sprinted after Nemec, and within seconds, the speeder engine sparked violently and exploded. The detonator went off immediately after, and the shock wave knocked her to the ground. Her ears rang as she struggled to get up. Nemec doubled back and yanked her to her feet. He shouted something, but she couldn’t make it out over the high-pitched shriek in her head. Without waiting for a response, he took off running, dragging her behind him as she stumbled.

“—have to move!”

His voice was muffled, and she shook her head to try to clear it. It didn’t work, but she jogged after him regardless. Nausea rose in her belly, but she tamped it down. Her breath was harsh, and her lungs ached. Run, Cerra. One foot in front of the other. Keep going.

They ran until they reached an outcropping of rocks that provided some cover, and Nemec finally slowed.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded, breathing hard. At least she could hear again.

“Good,” he said. “We still have a long way to go, so we need to keep walking.”

“I am walking,” she said irritably.

“Walk faster,” Nemec said.

As much as she wanted to snap back at him, he had a point, so she picked up the pace. “We can still make it,” she said. “The bike bought us some time.”

They walked for hours, carefully rationing the small amount of water in Nemec’s canteen. Cerra stripped off the stifling wool uniform jacket and tied it around her waist. Her undershirt was soaked with sweat from the hot sun, and soon she was covered in a fine film of dust that clung to her damp skin. Silently, she cursed her karking uncomfortable boots. They were made for sitting at a desk, not trekking across rocky terrain.

She checked her chronometer. We can still make it.

“Will they scramble the V-wings if a ship enters the atmosphere?” she asked.

Nemec shook his head. “I don’t think their surveillance is that advanced. That’s why they picked this system; nobody comes here.”

“Security was pretty tight at the base,” Cerra observed.

“We’ve had a little trouble with the locals. Some of them objected to the Empire ordering them to torch their own crops and grow ration plants instead. Can’t imagine why,” Nemec said drily.

His voice sounded deeper than Fireball’s, more like Rex, and Cerra wondered how old he was.

“Were you and Fireball batchmates?” she asked curiously.

He turned his head to study her before he answered. He still hadn’t removed his helmet.

“No,” he said. “We met when I was serving under your uncle. Fireball was just a shiny. Didn’t even have a name yet. His whole batch got wiped out by a vulture droid in his first battle. Poor kids never saw it coming. Fireball ran toward the explosion to try to save them, but they were already gone.”

“Is that how he got his name?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “How’d you get mixed up in all this?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” she said.

“You said you’d been a supply officer for thirteen years,” he pressed.

“Corellian military defense force,” she said. “Then GAR.”

“Not Imperial army?”

“Not so far,” she said.

“I knew you were too nice to be one of them,” Nemec said.

“Fireball will be disappointed to hear that. He spent the last week coaching me on how to be a scughole to clones.”

“Your mistake was treating us like humans,” Nemec said. “Wouldn’t want anyone to see you doing that.”

“I guess I’m just not cut out to be an Imperial officer,” Cerra said. “There goes Plan Besh.”

“I’d say don’t quit your day job, but I don’t know what that is,” he said.

“Is treason a day job?” she asked. “It doesn’t pay much, but I get a lot of satisfaction out of it.”

Nemec laughed, the sound harsh and distorted by his helmet. “You’re not so bad, Lieutenant Traitor.”

---

Next chapter

#tbb echo #captain gregor #captain rex #riyo chuchi #oc: cerra kilian #echo x riyo chuchi #gregor x oc #the bad batch #star wars #sw tbb #bad batch fanfic #star wars fanfic #stars beyond number #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

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oldschoolvpq · 1 year ago

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Retrofitting Tamagotchi Original for 1990s Buttons

Yay! One of the most beautiful shells ever released has finally arrived at my doorstep! But, I'm not a fan of the button color. So...it's swap time.

1997 Tama, 2023 Tama...on the outside they look similar enough. But, as it turns out, THEY'RE NOT - at least where buttons are concerned.

On the left, the buttons from the new Tamagotchi Original. On the right, buttons from a Japanese P2. The new buttons are taller, thinner, and have a flatter base. This means that when you put 90s buttons in a Tamagotchi Original...

They're too short - you can't press them! It's only a few millimeters difference but it'd be nice to, oh, I dunno, use it?

So I cracked open my new toy to get a good look at the button mount.

Here's the backside of the front shell - take a good look at the bottom. You can see the raised circles that hold the buttons at the correct height against the device, as well as some bars to separate the three buttons. If you reduce the height of these pieces, you'll be able to utilize more of the button height. So, we break out the dremel to do some sanding!

Dremel is a name brand, mine is definitely not a real one. But this little pen does spin and grind whatever I put near it, so it's perfect for the job.

The parts I was referring to are much easier to see once they've been sanded...LIGHTLY. Again, we're talking about not even 2 millimeters of adjustment, so if you try this, be careful!

A quick polish to retain the shine and a rinse in the sink to remove the dust and it's ready to reassemble.

Looking good! I like a lower button, so I decided to stop here.

I will note that the thicker base causes the circuit board to lay on a very slight angle, but it doesn't affect the reconstruction or overall performance. Just don't push too hard, I guess.

So...the new buttons are in, but do they work? See for yourself!

I like it quite a bit more now!

Note: I take no responsibility for what happens to you or your Tamagotchi should you attempt this mod. Be careful with power tools and chemicals.

#tamagotchi #original tamagotchi #custom tamagotchi #tamacrafty #tamagotchi original #i break my toys

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loadedberetta · 2 years ago

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Impulse Part 1 - (1/2) Ghost x fReader x Soap

rating: E/18+ minors DNI

summary: A little confession goes a long way.

warnings: *deep breath* Porn With Plot; Threesome F/M/M; Reader with female anatomy & pronouns; open relationship; unprotected PiV sex (wrap ya tools); creampie; oral f/m receiving; SoapGhost; IUD/contraceptive talk; light biting scratching marking; light sub/dom dynamics; breathplay; praise; holistic imagery here and there; hints of voyeurism; being called "sir" in bed; size kink is you squint your eyes

word count: 5.7k

[EDIT: the work continues on ao3]

find me on ao3 // MASTERLIST

Interact only if you're over 18. Proceed beyond this point with caution. Every work of mine has a general warning.

gif by me using ezgif

a/n: SoapGhost with a Reader insert I'm not responsible for her. homoerotic af these two are the dream couple. Ghost is a service dom, Johnny is a switch and reader you're a bottom aren't you. MINORS GTFO :)) let the smut commence

You were standing at the door for an uncomfortably long time now, the porcelain dish getting heavier by the second in your hands. Not talking about the Tupperware balanced on top of it full of your nan's biscuits.

Finally, you heard some shuffling from inside the house, just as you tried elbowing the doorbell again with "MacTavish" written above it.

Keys turned, and your neighbour Johnny looked out the door he opened just slightly before recognizing you and fully swinging it open.

- Hello, love! - he called you with the pet name he had used countless times for you. You didn't mind, hell, you enjoyed the attention you received from the Scot next door. You had been in his sights for quite some time now.

The sudden realization that you indeed had a big, sloppy crush on him drew interesting lines on your face, making your cheeks burn. You spoke too quickly to seem uninterested.

- My nan dumped all this food on me, and I obviously can't eat it all before it goes bad. I heard you arrive yesterday night and I- - you rambled on.

He let you talk, and his tired and light blue eyes lingered on you. You basked at the moment for just a second too long, and it turned awkward.

- C'me on in and, uh... let's get this sorted out - Johnny flashed a small, tired smile at you that still would have knocked most women off their feet.

Come in? You were wearing your large tracksuit bottoms you still had from back at your alma mater down in Cornwall and a huge jumper you only dared to wear at home it had so many oil stains and other unidentified marks on it. But most of all, what bothered you above all else was the fact that you were scarcely wearing any underwear. Yes, there was a vest under all that but that was all. And a pair of socks, it was only spring after all.

You've never been inside Johnny's apartment before. You figured it was the same layout as yours, just mirrored. Remembering where the walls stood before you had your side remodeled, you pieced the layout together quickly.

Johnny had already disappeared into the small kitchen, and you could hear the almost cartoonish sounds of pots and pans clanging.

You took a quick look around as you were insanely curious about what he could own inside the tiny home. You noticed some coats hanging from the wall, mounted on a retrofitted coat rack. There were some jackets you recognized, a navy blue and a grey one for sure. You were so preoccupied with taking in the sights, you didn't notice Johnny poking his head out the kitchen door. He rested his vision on the lines of your shoulders for a moment before addressing you. Hearing your name surely scared you. You've maybe heard him say it once or twice before, and you remembered your thighs clamping together with wanton washed over by embarrassment each time.

He chuckled. - Come in, I dinnae... bite - he finished as if he couldn't figure out what he meant by that himself.

To punctuate the sentence, he took the box of biscuits off you, as if to coax you into the kitchen. His movements were quick and to the point. He didn't move a muscle that didn't need to be moved. Taking a few steps forward, you crossed the threshold of the small, but neat kitchen. He turned over to his fridge and opened it.

You wished you could take a picture of the moment. It almost looked domestic.

His voice was a little muffled as he spoke: - I s'pose you don't want leftover kebab from yesterday. Coffee machine's gubbed too - he pointed behind himself at a half-disassembled coffee maker.

You snickered. - It's fine, Johnny. You don't have to give me something back every time - you teased him for when he went to Tesco to just get you a slice of cake last autumn when you lent him a spanner from your toolbox, the exact measurement that he was missing from his kit.

You let him keep it after. He didn't know, but red velvet cake was your absolute favourite dessert.

He dumped the cookies out into one of his own containers and exhanged the empty one with the heavy porcelain still resting in your arms. You sighed with relief. Relief... and yearning, and much more. But he didn't need to know that.

You shuffled around awkwardly. - It's cottage pie. - A realization struck. - You eat meat, right?

You've made this mistake before, bringing prosciutto canapés to a vegan friend's housewarming party. Your face flared up. Again.

Seeing Johnny lean back against his counter, easy morning light bouncing off his massive shoulders eased your mood a little, however, it did little for the warmth spreading across your face. - I wouldnae last a day out in the field - he said plainly.

Oh, yes... He was in the military. You didn't know which branch. You didn't recognize brass, like ever. You didn't dare look it up either, as if he could see your search history just by looking at you for some reason.

- How was deployment? Bearable? - you asked uncomfortably, now that a general silence had set in between the two of you. Still, neither of you dared (or wanted?) to move.

Dust particles played in the streaks of morning light.

- I didnae get shot this time - he replied nonchalantly, probably to ease the tension. He was comfortable talking about stuff like this.

This time. The comment forced a small amount of air out of your lungs.

- I'm just a wall over if you ever... need help. - you tried wording your offer.

Johnny smiled and traced a hand through his mohawk. The hair choice fit him perfectly. He let it grow out a little a while ago, and you practically chewed your lips bloody every time you saw him. - Thanks.

You caught yourself looking at his hair. You looked away in embarrassment as his hand stopped mid-air. He had to have seen it. You immediately bit your lip and tried focusing your stare elsewhere.

You heard him suppress a small laugh.

- What? - he asked as you sucked your lips in.

- I just... - you tried burying your face into your collarbone, - it's, okay...

You huffed a breath and gathered every ounce of courage in your body. It felt unreal, as you asked him; - I was wondering-- I've been meaning to ask you- if you-- Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?

There. You said it, there was no going back from there anymore.

You blinked up at him, the morning sun illuminating his features painted him to be an angel. A deathly handsome, and quite cute angel at that. You couldn't have seen if he blushed or not. You hoped he did.

His hands dug into his hair again. This time you didn't look away, awaiting his answer, and allowing yourself a look now that your intentions were clear.

- I'd-I'd love to.

Oh no. Here it goes.

- I'd love to, - he repeated himself as your heart thrummed with anticipation at an incredible pace - ...but I'm kind of seeing someone at the moment.

Fuck. You pressed your lips into a thin line and looked down at the tiled floor. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

- ...is that a problem for you? - you heard Johnny ask from seemingly below the water, as his words were barely audible behind the blood rushing in your ears.

You looked dumbfounded at him; - For me?

Is he asking--

- Yes, for you. It's uh... an open relationship - he pulled you from your thoughts gently.

Relief and excitement washed over you. It was more than okay.

- So... so that's a yes? - you asked unsurely.

- If you're in, I am too - he smiled at you. The rays of the sun behind him were accentuating his already broad shoulders and shone through his freshly ruffled hair.

- What didya have in mind? - he crossed his arms in front of himself, gently pushing his pecs upward. You could tell he consciously eased his accent for your sake.

You laughed a little in nervousness. - Nothing really, I didn't have this thought out, sorry - you palmed your arm with your crossed hands. Intrusive thoughts.

He moved. Grabbing the cottage pie, he squat down and put it in the fridge.

- If you didnae 'ave an idea, I might do - he muttered from behind the fridge door.

- You... do? - you asked still in disbelief, waiting to wake up from a dream in your bed, sweaty and turned on, already reaching for your bedside drawer.

- But that involves skipping first base - he rose from behind the door, eyes trained on you.

Oh.

No, this had to be a dream.

Your confidence seemed to have vanished from earlier. Fucking gone, that's what you were reduced to. Suddenly, you were very aware that you had no panties or a bra on, the fact totally evading your mind when your mouth was bigger than you could have handled.

Johnny must have noticed you became startled, as he raised his hands slightly, unhooking them from in front of himself.

- Dinnae fash yersel', sweetheart. All in due time - he spoke in a honeyed voice that somehow made his suddenly sharp accent sound mellow and welcoming.

- I didn't mean-- I- - you fumbled with words as you still struggled to comprehend the fact that not only has he agreed to go out with you but that he already broke the first-date-kind-of ice between the two of you in just under a minute.

- You dinnae mean what? - he pushed himself away from the counter and rose to his full height. He almost looked divine in the increasingly warm lighting of the raising sun.

You seem to have forgotten all the English, or frankly any language you might have known.

- I mean I'm free whenever... - you managed to pull a coherent sentence together relatively fast, surprising yourself. You tried looking anywhere but at Johnny out of fear of combusting on the spot if you did.

He adjusted his white cotton shirt before he opened his mouth to speak. One sly motherfucker.

- So, even now? - he asked as he flattened the shirt on his abdomen. He knew what he was doing.

Reality has been defied so many times that day, you might as well have said yes. And you did; - Yeah, I mean---

You could barely finish your sentence, as Johnny crashed into you, knocking you off-balance and into the kitchen wall behind you. It was all so sudden, cathartic and electric, that your instincts kicked in before anything else could have connected in your brain. You found each other's hungry lips effortlessly and melted into a sloppy and erratic succession of deep kisses. Devouring eachother, your body jolted with electricity, as did his. His hands never stopped, rumpling your jumper upwards, and dipping his fingers just past the waistband of your joggers experimentally. For a good while, the kitchen was filled with nothing else but rustles and moans growing in volume.

Staccato whimpering broke from his mouth moving on from yours to nip at your neck, as you dipped your nails into his back through his shirt, earning a particularly strong bite to your jugular accompanied by an open-mouthed groan. The rush of adrenaline that was already brimming your floodgates threatened to burst even heavier afterward.

- Hey, hey-- - you breathed at him, your one hand moving up to his neck and head to catch his attention.

Johnny immediately rose from lapping your collarbone with his tongue, letting your shirt go, the neckline of which was irreparably loosened and torn.

- Hm? - he hummed attentively, raising his own hand to your cheek and gently cupping it. - Too much?

- Yes- I mean no,... - you tried, looking off to the side. Your mouth was red and burning from the five o'clock shadow Johnny sported, breath spent and clothes tousled, you didn't need less. You needed...

- ...slower? - he asked, head cocked to the side like a giant puppy to try and catch your gaze. He slid his broad hands down to rest them on your waist, and a strand of hair fell into his face, enhancing his most captivating feature yet. He finished your sentence, and you just nodded with warmth spreading in your body, feeling comfortable, yet still turned on by his presence.

There wasn't another word exchanged between the two of you, as your lips melted again, this time with less rush and fever, but not a hair less passionate. This time, Johnny took his time to explore you, to take in every curve, nook and cranny that your body had on display. At one point, he picked you up, and set you down on the small dining table, slotting his heavy body between your thighs, spreading them at a heavenly angle that let you grind against the fabric of the tablecloth. Your pleasure ramped up again as Johnny's palms settled on the apex of your thighs, foreshadowing what he had in store for you later.

You've almost lost touch with this world, as you were so enveloped in his. His small, shallow breaths matched yours, and he utilized his size advantage on you efficiently. He smelled of body wash and linen sheets with a hint of gunpowder and sweat that matched his energy perfectly. It felt as if his touch was everywhere, his eyes saw your purest and his lips tasted your innermost core. You've lost track of time and forgot where you were, or who you were frankly.

- Morning to you too Johnny... - the grumbling voice almost made you choke.

You jumped, and your thighs clamped together, trying to hide the obvious. Recoiling from Johnny's face in front of yours, you looked in the direction of the kitchen door where the voice came from.

A large, looming figure stood in the doorway, barely fitting into the comfortably sized opening. He was dressed in soft jammies, but every item on him was black. The white of his skin that invited your gaze was barely visible in the large eye-slit of the balaclava he donned, as the proximity of his eyes was painted with something resembling a grayish-black eyeshadow. It would have been an understatement to call him frightening. With the mandible and jawbone painted on his mask, his eyes lidded and exhausted, he looked like the Devil incarnate.

- Haw, it isna good wae to introduce yerself to a guest! - Johnny's accent thickened as he spoke incredibly fast. While talking, he hugged you closer to him as you froze in his embrace. - Hen's hidin' awae, look - he referred to you huddled close to his chest, your hands tucked between you and him, face disappearing into his shirt. You tried to disappear, to sink into the ground, or vanish into thin air, but you remained in the tight embrace of Johnny, locked in that warm spot you secretly never wanted to get out of.

A moment later, his embrace eased just the slightest, and a hand touched your chin, tilting it upwards against Johnny's pecs. You leaned into the gentle guidance and lifted your head for your eyes to see over Johnny's shoulders.

- And why's she hidin' away? - the voice asked, now from behind Johnny. Your eyes met his, as he stared down at you with Johnny between the two of you. The sun shone through the wisps of his mask and painted a silvery halo around his head, his dark eyes being the only counterweight to the angelic look he suddenly donned. Those deep, searching eyes were of a sinner, who had given up on repentance and embraced the devilish chaos life has chosen for him.

- Ah dinnie ken... - you heard Johnny's teasing voice rumble through his broad chest, as he slightly moved and trembled. - Ghost-- - Johnny's voice choked as you felt him shudder around you.

The apparition must have been called Ghost. He spoke:

- An' why don't we give her a good time? - he cooed into Johnny's shoulder in the most affectionate form of Mancunian you've ever heard. Your full attention focused at that point on the light scratches Ghost painted on Johnny's neck with his covered mouth that made the man under him shudder and whimper swearwords into the thick air. Ghost's hand snaked down Johnny's side and rested on your thigh. His hands were even broader than Johnny's, resting more firmly on your plump flesh, squeezing it very light almost as if he was introducing himself to you.

You felt Ghost's sly other hand slot between you and Johnny, and find the hem of his jammies, slightly touching your thighs with the back of his hand. - 'can feel you're already mad for it, Johnny... - he purred into his ear as his hand on your thigh shifted to your bum to nudge you closer to the two of them. Your cunt clenched and electricity crackled up your spine as your inner thigh met Ghost's strong hand massaging the stiffie Johnny sported. You and Johnny shared a moan and Ghost's rasped chuckle echoed in the wake of the sounds the two of you made.

You canted your hips down to catch some friction on the table, but your attempts were quickly shut down by Johnny, who'd come back down to Earth to swiftly swoop you up with a growl to carry you deeper into the dark flat. Over his shoulders, you saw Ghost give him an appreciative smack on the arse before following him, eyes trained on you like a dark guardian. Images swirled in your head of fallen angels you'd learned about from your friends when trading urban legends at sleepovers, long ago. Ghost seemed like every single one of those spawns in one terrifying amalgam, yet he was his unique figure in a sinful and wicked vessel that was his battered body.

Johnny in the meantime, muttered small praises into your ears as if he was confessing. The journey wasn't long to the dim bedroom, but his praise was indeed efficient and resulted in you soaking your grey joggers even more. You rested and bobbed against his soft body and raging erection constantly, which was also a big positive.

Instead of throwing you down onto the bed, as you expected, he sat down on the hard mattress and let you straddle him. His hands were quickly at work, kneading your cheeks with deadly accuracy as you heard the faint creaking of a floorboard behind you. That was all the warning you got before Ghost's hands appeared on the edge of your vision and settled on Johnny's shoulders.

- Sweetheart, - you heard his voice call to you... or to Johnny? - do you want this?

Realizing it was you he addressed - having not been told your name -, you answered him a breathy 'yes', as Johnny continued to lap circles around the spots he already nibbed on your neck. Ghost's hands slipped onto your shoulders, gently massaging them with keen precision.

- We got tested before last deployment... - Johnny stopped for a moment, resting his hands on the sweet spot of bunched-up flesh at your hips.

The two pairs of hands on you felt... comforting. You were in safe hands. Safe, big, and strong hands at that, their owners ready to make you have the best time of your life. You trusted Johnny, and he trusted Ghost, which meant you did too.

- 'mclean too... - you swallowed some air into your thirsty and deprived lungs. - Got an IUD, so don't worry about---

- Oh I won't... - Ghost's hand slipped under your jaw and tilted your head up forcefully with a trained, fluid movement. Your neck became exposed, allowing Johnny to return to his ministrations. - Do you want to get filled up, sweetheart? - Ghost purred from above you, as he forced your gaze to catch his.

- Yes - you strained to talk or even to breathe, and Johnny's renewed attempts to shower you with affection didn't make it easier either.

- You... you call me sir, understood? - he tightened his grip on your jaw as you felt your quickening heartbeat in your throat, your skin bruising under his fingers.

- Yes... sir - you breathed out, as he let you go.

Falling onto Johnny's shoulder, you breathed in deeply a few times. He came to stroke your back a couple of times comfortingly before letting his hand fall onto the small of your back, pushing you onto his tenting erection. You shuddered a moan and bucked your hips into his lap, earning yourself a playful smack on your bum.

The two of them were so different, yet the extensions of the other. Johnny was playful, reckless, and intuitive, while Ghost seemed to be more meticulous and sober with a hint of sinful wickedness, the two of their personalities slotting together like puzzle pieces. You didn't feel like an intruder to them somehow. They made you feel honoured, worshipped, and as if you were in the right hands. Not one movement was misplaced, not one word misheard.

- You listen to me and Ghost, yes? - Johnny breathed into your ear as he pushed you down on himself. - Bonnie? - he asked you again when you failed to respond as you bit down on your lips hard in order to stifle a feral grunt, a hint to your embarrassingly growing pleasure just by dry-humping Johnny.

- I-- yes. - you forced out, and a staggered cry followed after.

- Sweetheart, turn around. - you heard Ghost order from behind you. Johnny helped to flip you towards Ghost, your back now facing his abdomen, his sheathed cock slotted between your bruised cheeks.

Your jaw hung slack as you took the sight of him in, finally from close-up in the screened darkness of the bedroom. You realized how tall he was really, from the angle from below. The light snaking in below the drawn blinds hinted at his strong face and did justice in lighting his broad shoulders and sides, supported by two long treestumps of legs. You only hoped he'd be this well-equipped everywhere, and it soon looked like you'd get a taste of the masked revenant.

- Good girl... - he praised as he raised his hand to stroke your face, and slotted his thumb in your welcoming mouth. - Show me how pretty you can suck it dry.

Your cunt clenched empty in agony as Johnny's hands dipped under your waistband from behind, and started kneading your thighs, inching his way slowly toward your aching centre. You shivered, as Ghost tested the waters on how unleashed he can be with you by dipping his finger deeper into your mouth and swirling it around.

- Sir... - you were surprised for a moment as you heard Johnny from behind you call out to Ghost with aching need.

- Can he? - Ghost found your teary eyes and cocked his head with question.

You gave him a dazed nod and an appreciative 'mhm' with his thumb still in your mouth.

- Go ahead, Johnny - he reassured him in almost a sweet voice. He didn't move until he received the command.

Finally, Johnny's hands brushed against your mound and struck your centre gently for the first time. Ghost deftly removed his finger from your mouth as you let your head fall back onto Johnny's shoulder. His hands were strategic, precise, and deadly, just like on the battlefield, and the thought terrified and turned you on at the same time. They could have used their strength to kill you with ease, but rather took pleasure in working you up to the high heavens.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your hands flew back to grip Johnny's neck behind you, and pulled him closer, urging him to work up his speed. Hips involuntarily shuddering above him, he let out a few satisfied growls himself. You noticed a grip around one wrist and Ghost drew your hand to himself. His legs moved closer and spread yours - as well as Johnny's - further apart, opening you fully to the hand already working you.

Already coated in your leaking slick, Johnny's fingers slid between your lips with wispy ease just as your hand disappeared under Ghost's when he pressed it against his own clothed, half-hard cock.

- You feel what you're doing to me and him, do you? - he asked you but expected no response.

You really couldn't answer, as for when Johnny's two fingers slipped inside of you a moment later, you only had a sharp moan to spare. Your walls clenched around the digits entering you, and they filled you well enough for now. The stretch wasn't uncomfortable, but you knew you had so much more coming. He moved, friction practically none as your wetness made everything sloppy and velvety. To make up for the missed sensation, Johnny's thumb worked your needy clit, flicking it seemingly aimlessly. You knew, hell, you felt how precise his movements were, however, how trained he must have been.

In the meantime, Ghost didn't let your wrist escape, instead used your hand as a toy to catch some friction and ease his painful ache. You were stuck in the most beautiful scene of all; two men eager to touch you as well as eachother, with you following suit. You would have never thought this is how your day would go when you left your apartment a door over that morning with a faint voice in the back of your head telling you to ask Johnny out for a coffee. This was so much more honest and guttural, the true reflection of your feelings towards him. And Ghost added into the mix, not a notch less arousing or attractive than Johnny, you had your plate full, and you wanted seconds.

- Trousers, off - Ghost commanded and pulled your soaking wet joggers down in one movement, the fabric digging into your skin violently. Your legs shut slightly for him to remove the piece of fabric from you, but opened immediately after, as Johnny had worked you up to the edge already.

- Come on, no- don't stop-- - you whimpered into the thick air while flexing your leg muscles to heighten the sensation of the impending finish you neared.

- Needy little cunt you have... - Ghost purred from above you. - Come on, Johnny, give it to her. - he ordered, and he delivered.

Drawing an intense and prolonged cry from you, he carried you through your high. You knew Ghost was watching, probably already touching himself, but instead of feeling embarrassed, a wanton feeling washed over you and carried your trembling body into overstimulation.

Panting, you realized how tightly you held onto Johnny's nape with both hands, escaping Ghost's grip sometime in the past few hazy minutes. You knew this was a brief stop instead of a final destination, so you looked through your teary lashes up to Ghost, only to see him lowering himself onto his knees in front of the bed you and Johnny were perched on.

- Bonnie, I- - Johnny's hand gave your oversensitive mound a last love tap before taking his opportunity to look over your shoulders at your unclothed thighs with Ghost's head settling between them.

- Need you in me, Johnny-- - you panted at him, heart racing from what had just transpired and in anticipation for what might be coming next.

Johnny made quick work of his jammies and in a moment, his weeping cock waited at your entrance, nudging you ever so slightly with each breath he took. In one swift movement, he was in you. Filling you halfway for a moment, you breathed into the stretching sensation and squeezed your eyes shut still overstimulated. He pushed further, the fiery sensation transforming into something otherwordly, and taking residence deep in the pit of your stomach. He didn't move at first, not until you did, drawing a shaky moan deep from his lungs. Finally, you opened your eyes, searching for Ghost.

He was there, watching. Unwavering, he was kneeling by the edge of the bed. One of his hands appeared from underneath, and with ungodly slyness settled low on your stomach. He looked over your shoulder, locking eyes with Johnny.

- You've been good Johnny. You've earned your reward - he mouthed his words barely louder than a whisper.

Johnny's breath hitched, and he flinched. You felt his head fall on your shoulder, and he grit his teeth together. - Move. - Ghost drilled into your eyes with his stare, but you knew the command wasn't meant for you. Mostly because as soon as the words left Ghost's mouth, Johnny started pounding into you with careless, shallow thrusts.

- Lean back, MacTavish - Ghost ordered. As you've accustomed to it happening, Johnny did, leaving your back exposed but his hands free. Your sex still exposed towards Ghost, his hand slid lower on your stomach, his thumb eventually reaching your clit, millimetres away from Johnny's cock fucking the living soul out of you. Most of this, you only felt, as your eyes slammed shut the moment Johnny started moving in you, filling you to the brim with the delicious stretch you so craved. Added to the mix were Ghost's deft fingers playing with your clit, and the dangerous composite of almost volatile sensations threatened to go off with a devastating explosion. You didn't see, rather felt that his other hand was at work too. Johnny writhed under you, palming every surface of your body with desperation, hinting at the fact that Ghost was working on him along with you.

Ghost's hands played carelessly with his balls, making Johnny see stars.

- Fill her up for me, would ya, Johnny? - Ghost purred as it was your turn again to climb the ladder up into heaven in search of another orgasm to be ripped from you by Ghost and Johnny.

Unable to answer, Johnny only let out a shaky moan from underneath you, that hurled you towards the finish line. You weren't shy with your own noises, but soon determined you couldn't have been if you wanted to. Ghost was somehow even more light and fiendish with his moves as if reciting adoration with his hands, flicking through pages, or tapping the keys of an organ all in the name of worship. It was you, it was Johnny who he worshipped with endless adoration and devotion.

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, he unhooked his plush mask from his jaw and pushed it above his lips onto his nose. You saw this as you opened your eyes when you felt his hands disappear from you, leaving you breathless on the way to another orgasm. Johnny kept his shattering pace, although his thrusts became shallower, letting you rely on Ghost's touch more.

Catching a glance at his unmasked jaw made you notice how pale he really was. The moment didn't last long, as he bestially licked his lips only to extend the flat of his pink tongue while moving towards the spot you and Johnny were conjoined. You bit your lips maybe a little too hard, but the pain only spurred you on more.

- Fucking-- - Johnny gave meaning to the breath forced out of his lungs underneath you as Ghost's tongue pressed against the underside of his cock, his hands still pawing at his extremely oversensitive balls. His hands squeezed your hip, and nails dug into your side, making you hiss in pain, but none of you cared.

Soon, Ghost's tongue teased your clit, and it was your turn to crumble. Palpitating sobs left your mouth, and a tear rolled down your cheek that got caught on the edge of your mouth, salty taste melting into your saliva.

- Good girl, sweetheart. Good. - Ghost praised in the moments his mouth wasn't smothered on you, but you barely heard it over the ringing in your ears as your pleasure erratically built in you.

You didn't need long as you clung onto dear life not to take you out with the force of your second orgasm. It wasn't as long as the first one, but it took you with equal force, pulling the strength out of you from even deeper. Your whole body became electric as you clamped down on Johnny, and a stray cry left your mouth travelling all the way to the high heavens.

White flashes barely faded from the edge of your vision as Johnny sat up and embraced you, locking you into place as he came with erratic and sloppy thrusts. Ghost sang with praise the whole way, which staggered you.

- Take it, Johnny. Good boy. You deserve this.

You couldn't have imagined how a gruff man like him could be so devoted and ready to give. Yes, he took what he wanted, but his acts showed how deeply he cared about Johnny and apparently... you.

Pounding the last of his seed deep into you, Johnny fell back on the bed with a thud but remained sheathed in you. Ghost got up and opened a drawer nearby, pawing in it for a fresh towel. When he found one, he locked eyes with you and you understood him. You slipped off of Johnny and shakily got up, reaching for the towel. Instead of giving it to you, Ghost squat down and cleaned you up, holding your shaky waist with one hand for leverage as his other roamed around your body draped in the scratchy towel.

You instinctively rested your hand on his shoulder for the same leverage. When he was done, and you were clean, he nodded his head towards the bed. Johnny was laying propped up on his elbows, watching the two of you share an erotic yet domestic moment. His heart fluttered, but only he could feel it.

Ghost threw the rag at Johnny as you climbed back into bed but you were faster than him, and snatched it off his belly, where it landed. You cleaned him off diligently as Ghost rounded the bed and without a word, sat on - presumably - his side. His mask was back on his whole face, but the white paint glistened here and there, making you remember how precise and--

Ghost's purr pulled out of your thoughts. He looked like a crow or a puddle of what used to be a crow as Johnny's figure loomed into your vision, appearing on Ghost's side, laying a still trembling hand on his abdomen. Both their eyes were still full of lust and want, and so were yours.

- Fun's not over yet, sweetheart. - Ghost smiled under his mask as Johnny grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you closer to them, planting soft kisses up your leg as you skidded closer.

part 1 (2/2) coming tomorrow

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things-about-cars-in-posts · 1 year ago

Note

Any favorite Car Games™ of yours? Forza, GT, Beam, Automation, etc.?

Auto/Beam are particular favorites of mine and also i have 10,000 hours logged between them

Since I wasn't a spoiled bitch, I can literally just list all the car games I had in my childhood. All for PC that is, because since I wasn't a spoiled bitch I didn't have a console. Okay actually there was NFS Carbon: Own The City and Herbie for DS but that was it. We were saying.

Colin McRae Rally 04 You've no idea what pain I brought to those poor little cars. Frequently I got to the end of one of those 2/4m stages with the car dying every 10/15 seconds. Such a good game. It also ran without having to insert its CD, which was very cool at the time, and very useful when I was gaming on the go on Father's Dell. idk if I also played it on his Toshiba but no such memory surfaces. Man I loved Father's Toshiba. I should try to retrofit it with new internals sometime.

Colin McRae Rally 2005 Liked that one too, but memories are hazier since at one point I was no longer able to play it for reasons I cannot recall so I just moved to 04 instead.

Test Drive Unlimited Got it recommended and didn't like it much. In hindsight it was an absolutely gorgeous game structure, but I just didn't care because I didn't like the way the cars drove. It collected dust.

Race Driver GRID For a long while, by far the latest racing game I ever had. Enjoyed it quite a lot! I even submitted an absolutely incredible gameplay clip to FailRace, though unfortunately it never did get featured. Bullshit, I say. And yes, for the longest time, I think until like 2020?, I had one single game that was younger than '06. See the part about not being a spoiled bitch. <-absolutely green with envy

GT Legends Played it a little during my youth, then tried to reinstall it years later to see if it lived up to my few memories of it and if I could get more out of it then by being less of a stupid baby. It corrupted the entire operating system and made the computer unable to start. A solid "no" to both.

And of course, who could forget, the Need For Speed series! In their chronological order:

Need For Speed Underground In my early childhood I didn't play it much, because I was still using the auto gearbox like a PLEB and you couldn't map controls in that game so when I got to the first drag race I couldn't figure out where the shift up key was nor could find it or remap it in settings and just abandoned the game. It should be noted as a child I was, in absolute, cosmically stupid. Later on I did pick it back up and see it to completion, loving it throughout (except for the part where you unlock the final boss' Civic you were neck and neck with on an R34 Skyline GT-R and they tell you it was stock. Sure honey now if you wait how did this bag of Fuck Off get here?). If only it had free roam, more races, a more varied environment, refillable NOS, the ability to have different cars simultaneously, and you get where I'm going with this don't you.

Need For Speed Underground 2 Man I loved this game since I started playing it at some ridiculously low age and I never stopped loving it and I was right throughout. I love love LOVE this game. I know the map by heart, the soundtrack by heart, the circuits by heart, the upgrades by heart, the starter cars specs by heart, you have no idea. This has been my childhood. This is by far and away the one I played and loved the most, even though due to the needlessly convoluted and completely obscure progression mechanics that childhood never saw me finish it - although I guess that helped me keep playing it, as when I got stuck with no way to progress further I'd just start from scratch again with no clue what to fix. I was able to pick it back up and finish it later on in life, through middle/high school, and later on still through the power of mods I squeezed and crushed and stretched that game like Tumblr did with Danny Phantom episodes. I modded it so much it crashed every ten minutes. I ran it off an iPod Nano. I messed the cars up so bad I'd essentially created new game modes. I managed to make a good desktop computer over a decade younger than the game itself run it at seconds per frame just by editing four wheel coordinates. And now you spoiled bitches can download it for free on somewhere like MyAbandonware (dot com, of course) and give it a try. And I can't recommend it enough. Literally; because if I could, friend of the blog @demoness-one would have done so by now >:(

Need For Speed Most Wanted The best Need For Speed game of all time, according to everyone. Everyone but me. I mean, I did go through it, but it looks bleak, the cars just seem to want to bounce from wall to wall, and I just don't like police chases - it's a game, why would I want a limited number of attempts? Also, they madly stressed me out, so, and here begins a funny story, I abandoned it when unable to rack up enough chase points to challenge the final boss. I picked it back up a while later to find out if it was just me being a baby, and no, I still didn't like it - but luckily I'd learned of the bug where if you park on a certain railing all the cop cars will pile up under you but never bust you, and decided to actually finish what I'd started so long before. Those points racked up, I worked myself through the good hour of bullshit unfairness of the duel with Razor (I have to win every race to win but he can win any race to win? Understandable. hey the bag of Fuck Off's back), even quitting the whole shebang three races in over a wrong input and having to start again, until, after hours of unsaveable progress, I finally was able to win the last race. And did you know that after that, just when you think you're done, you get the biggest, most intense car chase of the whole game? :) Well, I sure didn't, because right after I finished the race the game crashed and I had to do all those five races over again. :) And then I did that and it crashed again and I uninstalled the game and watched the ending on YouTube. :)

Need For Speed Carbon The takes get hotter still: I like this one more than MW. The colors got fixed, I liked the handling better (while obviously not as good as the mighty Underground 2 OF COURSE), drifting, my favorite race mode, replaced drag racing, my least favorite*, and yes, the car chases, and I may even like the soundtrack better? Nah, that's bull, I don't remember much of those two soundtracks at all off the top of my head. But I saw this one to the end and enjoyed it very much. *For the unaware, in every NFS game I played in my childhood, drag races did not give you steering control - to avoid traffic or obstacles, you tapped the arrow keys and the car would switch lanes. So you told the car to move out the way and if it did, good, if it instead took too long and/or had an unappealable loss of control and crashed automatically terminating your race, too bad.

There were also a couple other games there's not much to say about (Ford Streetracing, loved it, V-Rally 3, I think it had some issues and I never did play it, London Racer World Challenge, I recall nothing)... and now we move on to the car games I played since.

Assetto Corsa I've only ever dabbled in it a couple of times, but it's very fun when it works. My hardware is limiting on this front and I think I've some config issues, but when I'll have time to solve those I will be very glad to jump into it - especially because I really love driving simulators. Where with other games you kind of need some external validation of how hard it was to win with the tools the computer gave you -because it's not inherently cool that you beat a game, it was made to be beaten from the start- proper simulators just chuck you into an experience where no accommodation has been made for you (short of the damage level set, that is) and whatever you manage in it is your own accomplishment, not something the game let you accomplish. And on that note...

Richard Burns Rally This game is absolutely fucking incredible. "It's a 2004 game, how engaging a driving experience can it be" enough to make many still call it the best rally simulator out there and one of the best driving simulators period. Enough to motivate thousands of people to keep making a plethora of mods for it every day (which i've never been able to make work lol). Enough to make me seriously recommend buying yourself a wheel with force feedback* just to play this abandonware game (because using anything but a wheel for it is like using anything but a spoon for soup). And to be clear, this game is HARD. It just gives you a brief but extremely good rundown of how to master the driving basics and then have fun around rally stages where, again, the road has not been widened for you, the ditches not been filled, the car has not been programmed not to roll over too easily… essentially, the main way in which they are substantially easier than driving them IRL is the luxury of trial and error. So when, through however many days of trial and error it'll take you, you finally glide through those bumps smoothly enough to wipe the red off that time delta, this commercial flop the dozen-people-team from the Animaniacs GBA game developed when RAM was measured in megabytes becomes the most exhausting, intense, rewarding experience a computer has ever provided me. And a computer has gotten me laid. *I recommend the Logitech G25s, found for well under a dub, and the G27s, a small revision of the G25 with more buttons and a better shifter usually found for not much more (I found mine for 80!). They're from 2004 and 2010 respectively, and the wheel Logitech sells today is just a G27 with more buttons which says it all about how good a budget wheel it is.

TrackMania Nations Forever I hate this game, I fucking despise this game. "Alright, it's the same game we made two years ago with new tracks, and it has no story, opponents, traffic, cutscenes, or really any dynamic beyond checkpoints, a finish and a timer. But even still, there are so many fun mechanics to master anyway, like jump distance control, which you hopefully figure out you have because it's not like there is any tutorial to tell you! Or drifting, which is necessary to beat the best time in one of the last levels - you do it by pressing brake, accelerator and a steering direction simultaneously. Hope you randomly decide to do it autonomously to see what happens and find out that can be faster! And if you don't have a specialized keyboard with more than the normal 2 key rollover, hopefully something possessed you to map one of those controls to a completely different keyboard zone than all the others, or pressing all three will make only two register and you never will find this out! But at least not making any tutorials or the likes and keeping the interface absolute garbage allowed us to have the driving on absolute lock! Well, except for that bug where if you take the fastest line through a corner your car may decide to ragdoll and fuck your run. Oh and also the one where if you land a jump on all four wheels you may randomly lose your speed. Good luck!" I now get why they hate French people. Unfortunately, as for a lot of destructive hatred of mine, it manifests in yet more determination to conquer the little shit. I've gotten author times on every single one of the tracks except the last one, not because it's eight times longer than by far the second longest at an entire goddamn hour but because I wanted an effort that lengthy to be a special occasion and that never manifested. ...Maybe a stream?

Actually, I visited MyAbandonware to check the NFSU2 page and apparently they include a mod that puts the uncensored edits of the songs in the soundtrack and honestly I hella want to play it again just to hear that, so that could also be a cool stream idea if it wasn't a criminal deed to play copyrighted music on stream (I've not kept up with that whole mess, can you do it if you don't keep a VOD?). Or I could stream myself playing Richard Burns Rally and make you go "oh this is HARD hard".

Links in blue are posts of mine about the topic in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

#videogames

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