#cargo collection for men

[cargoshirts]

Blue Cargo Double Pocket Shirt for Men

Make a bold statement with this Blue Cargo Double Pocket Shirt for Men. The American Trends Blue double pocket shirt’s eye-catching pattern adds flair to any outfit. Pair it with white jeans for a standout look.

Its extraordinary double stitch design elevates your broad shoulders.

It is made from soft-to-touch 100% pure cotton and features full sleeves with a drop-down collar and curved hem design.

Put an end to your wait with a seamless evening date outfit. Pair it with your favorite trending jeans and stylish chunky shoes for stunning look.

Blue Dual Pocket Cargo Shirt Description

Full Sleeves

Button Placket

Appliques Attached 

Dual Flap Pocket on Chest 

Curved Hem Design

Slim Fit

100% Cotton Fabric

SIZE: Model is wearing a M size 

Model Height: 6 Feet 

WASH CARE: Cold machine wash. For more details see the wash care label attached.

Actual Color of the product may vary slightly due to photographic lighting sources or your device. 

[trendyfashions]

Avail Stylish Cargo pants for men throughout India!

Explore our extensive collection of stylish cargo pants for men, available throughout India. Choose comfort and versatility in the range created for any occasion. Whether you're hiking in the hills or exploring the city streets, our cargo pants offer durability without compromising on style. Get your favorite style and step up your dressing code with our stylish yet versatile clothing. Shop now and experience the ultimate blend of fashion and functionality delivered right to your doorstep.

For more exciting offers Email to: customercare@neverneud.com

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The tax sharks are back and they’re coming for your home

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TODAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

One of my weirder and more rewarding hobbies is collecting definitions of "conservativism," and one of the jewels of that collection comes from Corey Robin's must-read book The Reactionary Mind:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Reactionary_Mind

Robin's definition of conservativism has enormous explanatory power and I'm always finding fresh ways in which it clarifies my understand of events in the world: a conservative is someone who believes that a minority of people were born to rule, and that everyone else was born to follow their rules, and that the world is in harmony when the born rulers are in charge.

This definition unifies the otherwise very odd grab-bag of ideologies that we identify with conservativism: a Christian Dominionist believes in the rule of Christians over others; a "men's rights advocate" thinks men should rule over women; a US imperialist thinks America should rule over the world; a white nationalist thinks white people should rule over racialized people; a libertarian believes in bosses dominating workers and a Hindu nationalist believes in Hindu domination over Muslims.

These people all disagree about who should be in charge, but they all agree that some people are ordained to rule, and that any "artificial" attempt to overturn the "natural" order throws society into chaos. This is the entire basis of the panic over DEI, and the brainless reflex to blame the Francis Scott Key bridge disaster on the possibility that someone had been unjustly promoted to ship's captain due to their membership in a disfavored racial group or gender.

This definition is also useful because it cleanly cleaves progressives from conservatives. If conservatives think there's a natural order in which the few dominate the many, progressivism is a belief in pluralism and inclusion, the idea that disparate perspectives and experiences all have something to contribute to society. Progressives see a world in which only a small number of people rise to public life, rarified professions, and cultural prominence and assume that this is terrible waste of the talents and contributions of people whose accidents of birth keep them from participating in the same way.

This is why progressives are committed to class mobility, broad access to education, and active programs to bring traditionally underrepresented groups into arenas that once excluded them. The "some are born to rule, and most to be ruled over" conservative credo rejects this as not just wrong, but dangerous, the kind of thing that leads to bridges being demolished by cargo ships.

The progressive reforms from the New Deal until the Reagan revolution were a series of efforts to broaden participation in every part of society by successively broader groups of people. A movement that started with inclusive housing and education for white men and votes for white women grew to encompass universal suffrage, racial struggles for equality, workplace protections for a widening group of people, rights for people with disabilities, truth and reconciliation with indigenous people and so on.

The conservative project of the past 40 years has been to reverse this: to return the great majority of us to the status of desperate, forelock-tugging plebs who know our places. Hence the return of child labor, the tradwife movement, and of course the attacks on labor unions and voting rights:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/06/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom/

Arguably the most potent symbol of this struggle is the fight over homes. The New Deal offered (some) working people a twofold path to prosperity: subsidized home-ownership and strong labor protections. This insulated (mostly white) workers from the two most potent threats to working peoples' lives and wellbeing: the cruel boss and the greedy landlord.

But the neoliberal era dispensed with labor rights, leaving the descendants of those lucky workers with just one tool for securing their American dream: home-ownership. As wages stagnated, your home – so essential to your ability to simply live – became your most important asset first, and a home second. So long as property values rose – and property taxes didn't – your home could be the backstop for debt-fueled consumption that filled the gap left by stagnating wages. Liquidating your family home might someday provide for your retirement, your kids' college loans and your emergency medical bills.

For conservatives who want to restore Gilded Age class rule, this was a very canny move. It pitted lucky workers with homes against their unlucky brethren – the more housing supply there was, the less your house was worth. The more protections tenants had, the less your house was worth. The more equitably municipal services (like schools) were distributed, the less your house was worth:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

And now that the long game is over, they're coming for your house. It started with the foreclosure epidemic after the 2008 financial crisis, first under GW Bush, but then in earnest under Obama, who accepted the advice of his Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner, who insisted that homeowners should be liquidated to "foam the runways" for the crashing banks:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/06/personnel-are-policy/#janice-eberly

Then there are scams like "We Buy Ugly Houses," a nationwide mass-fraud outfit that steals houses out from under elderly, vulnerable and desperate people:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/11/ugly-houses-ugly-truth/#homevestor

The more we lose our houses, the more single-family homes Wall Street gets to snap up and convert into slum properties, aslosh with a toxic stew of black mold, junk fees and eviction threats:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

Now there's a new way for finance barons the steal our houses out from under us – or rather, a very old way that had lain dormant since the last time child labor was legal – "tax lien investing."

Across the country, counties and cities have programs that allow investment funds to buy up overdue tax-bills from homeowners in financial hardship. These "investors" are entitled to be paid the missing property taxes, and if the homeowner can't afford to make that payment, the "investor" gets to kick them out of their homes and take possession of them, for a tiny fraction of their value.

As Andrew Kahrl writes for The American Prospect, tax lien investing was common in the 19th century, until the fundamental ugliness of the business made it unattractive even to the robber barons of the day:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-04-26-investing-in-distress-tax-liens/

The "tax sharks" of Chicago and New York were deemed "too merciless" by their peers. One exec who got out of the business compared it to "picking pennies off a dead man’s eyes." The very idea of outsourcing municipal tax collection to merciless debt-hounds fell aroused public ire.

Today – as the conservative project to restore the "natural" order of the ruled and the ruled-over builds momentum – tax lien investing is attracting some of America's most rapacious investors – and they're making a killing. In Chicago, Alden Capital just spent a measly $1.75m to acquire the tax liens on 600 family homes in Cook County. They now get to charge escalating fees and penalties and usurious interest to those unlucky homeowners. Any homeowner that can't pay loses their home.

The first targets for tax-lien investing are the people who were the last people to benefit from the New Deal and its successors: Black and Latino families, elderly and disabled people and others who got the smallest share of America's experiment in shared prosperity are the first to lose the small slice of the American dream that they were grudgingly given.

This is the very definition of "structural racism." Redlining meant that families of color were shut out of the federal loan guarantees that benefited white workers. Rather than building intergenerational wealth, these families were forced to rent (building some other family's intergenerational wealth), and had a harder time saving for downpayments. That meant that they went into homeownership with "nontraditional" or "nonconforming" mortgages with higher interest rates and penalties, which made them more vulnerable to economic volatility, and thus more likely to fall behind on their taxes. Now that they're delinquent on their property taxes, they're in hock to a private equity fund that's charging them even more to live in their family home, and the second they fail to pay, they'll be evicted, rendered homeless and dispossessed of all the equity they built in their (former) home.

It's very on-brand for Alden Capital to be destroying the lives of Chicagoans. Alden is most notorious for buying up and destroying America's most beloved newspapers. It was Alden who bought up the Chicago Tribune, gutted its workforce, sold off its iconic downtown tower, and moved its few remaining reporters to an outer suburban, windowless brick building "the size of a Chipotle":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/16/sociopathic-monsters/#all-the-news-thats-fit-to-print

Before the ghastly hotel baroness Leona Helmsley went to prison for tax evasion, she famously said, "We don't pay taxes; only the little people pay taxes." Helmsley wasn't wrong – she was just a little ahead of schedule. As Propublica's IRS Files taught us, America's 400 richest people pay less tax than you do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/13/for-the-little-people/#leona-helmsley-2022

When billionaires don't pay their taxes, they get to buy sports franchises. When poor people don't pay their taxes, billionaires get to steal their houses after paying the local government an insultingly small amount of money.

It's all going according to plan. We weren't meant to have houses, or job security, or retirement funds. We weren't meant to go to university, or even high school, and our kids were always supposed to be in harness at a local meat-packer or fast food kitchen, not wasting time with their high school chess club or sports team. They don't need high school: that's for the people who were born to rule. They – we – were meant to be ruled over.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/26/taxes-are-for-the-little-people/#alden-capital

[luxysims]

Cargo pants - Men Essentials Collection

Hi! These are a cargo pants for the Men Essentials Collection 😊

I hope you like them! You have 10 swatches (different shades of denim). They are HQ compatible and can be found in the bottom section of the CAS.

DOWNLOAD   [ EARLY ACCESS ]  Public release june 22th

Don't forget to follow me in my other social networks (twitter and instagram) and check my patreon for early access:

*The tier is charged every month, always on the same day you decided to join (for example, if you subscribed on the 10th, the monthly fee will not be charged until the 10th of the next month). So you can join any day you want and never lose money!

Be the light! ✨

@maxismatchccworld​  @sssvitlanz @coffee-cc-finds @sims4finds @lanaccfind @cchunters   @c12ccfinds  @mmoutfitters @mmfinds @emilyccfinds @redheadsims-cc @cccorner @wysidiacc @ccsimsfindss4 @cccorner @lotusplumbob @toastyccfinds @cookiesccfinds @strangecowplantfinds @shaenaeccfinds @eanyroseccfinds @kairasimsccfinds @anikasims @blueishccfinds @petiteluneccfind @alt-lanaccfinds ❣  

[azrielwingspan]

RED SERPENT (Mob! Bucky x f!reader)

Summary: King and Queen of New York. The one who knows how to play the game, survives.

Warnings: Violence, mature content, sexual themes, foul language.

Disclaimer: I do not condone any of the actions written in this story.

You had always associated the colour blue with peace. Clear skies and vast oceans , their expanse making one seem insignificant. It grounded you and reminded you that there are greater forces at play.

That was a year ago.

Now, you associate the colour blue with James Bucky Buchanan Barnes.

King of New York.

The White Wolf.

Your husband.

Smoldering blue flames blazed in his eyes, all consuming and enrapturing. You were yet to figure out how they made you feel. For now, you watched as the steel blue gaze was directed at the man in front of him.

"This is the second time this month , Wilson. I'm going to give you a minute to explain." His tone indicated that he was anything but patient, brewing with explosive anger.

Sam Wilson was Bucky's head of security. His loyalty and discipline throughout the years was the only reason he was given time to explain himself. If it were anyone else, they'd be dead.

Reading the underlying threat in Bucky's words, Sam explained tensely, "There was a fire. Half the men were pulled to control it and the rest were reassigned. Whoever it was, struck then. The fire was the distraction."

A muscle ticked in Bucky's jaw as he restrained himself from lashing out. You sat by his side, ever the pretty wife, not moving an inch. Face devoid of any emotion, you leaned forward with feline like grace.

"Sam, how are you planning on luring the culprit?"

His eyes flicked to you, the slight relief passing through them not escaping your notice. You were far less intimidating than your darling husband. Albeit, far more venomous than anyone realized. One couldn't be married to a madman without having a certain...mental disposition.. as you liked to put it.

"We narrowed it down to Alexander Pierce. Haven't gotten the proof yet but his men's movements over the past few days suggest so."

"Interesting." you lean back in your seat, watching your husband from the corner of your eye. He seemed to calm down and collect his thoughts. Good.

That's how it had been over the past year. Bucky would lose his cool at the snap of a finger and you would garner attention in your direction to give him time to collect himself. A game. Every single moment of the day.

Power came to those who knew how to play the game.

"Did you deal with the police?" Bucky asked finally, his voice steady.

"Yeah, covered it up as a generator blast. Told our man in the department that we would deal with these fuckers on our own." Sam spat out, anger clouding his eyes.

Ugh, men. This was exactly what the other side wanted. Anger to cloud their vision.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you decided to intervene yet again. "Set up a bait."

Bucky's head finally snapped in your direction as you held back a smirk. You'd merely thrown a hint. They could build on it, couldn't they?

"That could work." Bucky said, his eyes roaming over your face. Turning back towards Sam, he continued "Another shipment scheduled a week from now. No product at all, just empty cargo. Increase security around the yard. Meanwhile, I'll redirect shipments and deal with the clients."

Sam nodded his head in agreement and stayed for a bit longer as the two smoothed out the plan. Not finding any reason to pipe in, you spent your time listening to them sipping on a glass of old fashioned.

After what seemed like hours, Sam finally left giving you a small nod in acknowledgement.

Silence ensued as Bucky got up with a groan and poured himself a glass of whisky.

Taking a sip, he smacked his lips before saying "You know the difference between you and me, Y/N?"

He took another sip of his whisky and flicked the glass with his other hand. “We’re drinking the same damn thing. The only difference is I like my whisky neat and you decorate it with fancy shit to make it seem more sophisticated.”

I scoff at his words, shaking my head in amusement. He continued on. “We’re the same, you and I. You hide behind a mask of false politeness and practised smiles. I don’t.”

“What is the point you’re trying to make, James?” you leaned your head back against the couch as the buzz from the alcohol settled into you.

“I must either be foolish or recklessly brave to have married a fucking serpent. You amaze me, Y/N.”

Letting out a genuine laugh at his choice of words , you tip back the rest of the drink, licking your lips as the bitterness leaves its mark behind. A warm hand encircles your hand partially as Bucky takes the glass from you and places it on the table.

Closing your eyes to lean your head back against the couch once more, you let your husbands cologne encompass you.

Let's get one thing clear.

You and Bucky weren't in love. No, this was purely transactional. You got along well , you were able to satisfy each others needs but love was an emotion that didn't come easy to either of you.

So, when his lips trailed soft kisses along your neck, the only emotion involved was lust. Letting out a soft sigh, your eyes still closed, you let yourself enjoy the feeling of his hands running across your body and his lips brushing underneath your jaw.

"You look devastating today." he whispered in your ear, nipping it lightly. Back slightly arching off the couch in pleasure, you turned your body towards his, looping your hands around his neck. "I hadn't noticed." you say breathlessly as his metal arm slips down the strap of your dress and your senses are at his mercy.

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

Stepping out of the steam bath, you put on a bath robe and start doing your skin care. Sleep was ready to take you under. Having sex with Bucky always tended to get you tired...not that you were complaining really.

Like he was summoned by your thoughts, Bucky walked into the bathroom with a somber face.

"What is it?" your hand was halfway to your face, focus honed in on your husband.

Not bothering to respond, he reached around you to grab the spare gun from the overhead cupboard.

"James."

No response yet again.

"JA--"

"Go to sleep." were the three words you got before he slammed the door to the bathroom and left you fuming in the silence of the house.

This. This was why you could never fall in love with him. No matter how good Bucky Barnes could fuck you, make you laugh and protect you, he would never respect you fully.

Soon.

Soon...this world would bow down to you.

Soon.

CHAPTER 2

[writers-potion]

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐚

The Aims of Nautical Fights

Sink the other ship

Methods: ram, set on fire, blow a hole in the hull

Typical Contexts: out-and-out warfare, especially in the ancient Mediterranean

Advantages: fast, no person-to-person fighting

Drawbacks: getting close eough to the other ship exposes own ship, mass murder of the crew, no chance to get their cargo and provisions.

2. Plunder the Other Ship

Methods: disable the ship - damage mast/oars and other methods of propulsion - board the ship, get cargo and kill the crew - sink ship.

Typical Contexts: piracy, privateering

Advantges: valuable cargo sold for profit, much-needed drinking water and food sustain own crew for a while longer, selected captives can be ransomed or sold as slaves.

Drawbacks: dangerous, need to get close enought to gain access to the ship, crew unlikely to surrender, ferocious combat which poses significant risk to own men.

3. Capture the Other Ship

Methods: Capture ship while causing minimal damage and keeping the crew alove - put own officers in charge - add enemy ship to own fleet or collect prize money from the government (the ship will get a new flad, renamed and refitted)

Typical contexts: 18th-19th C Europe (Regency period inclusive)

Advantages: minimal losses of life, humane, gaining a ship

Drawbacks: difficult to capture a ship iwhtou firs samaging it captains may take foolish risks in the hope of prize money, captive crew needs feeding, captive crew may munity.

Weapons

The ship's weapons:-

a ram at the bow - for driving into the hull of another ship. There's the danger of going down together if the ram gets stuck in the body of the other ship.

Artillery - hurling fire at enemy ships to bring them down.

Warships with carry canons.

The crew's weapons:-

Sailors will almost always carry multi-purposes knives which can turn quickly into weapons.

The swords used by marines were always slashing swords (for cutting, slashing, slicing, very sharp, with a lightly curving blade)

Cutlasses are most often associated with nautical combat.

Ship or Boat?

Consider the follow factors when differentiating between a ship and a boat:

the historical period (different periods have different definitions)

the vessel's size

vessel's weight (ships are heavier)

the purpose (fishing vessels, ferries and submarine are typically boats, regardless of size)

the number of masts (three or more masts is a ship)

the number of decks (with more than one deck, it's a ship)

the shape (flat bottom means its a boat)

where most activity takes place (if on deck - boat)

where the bessel travels (if on a river, probably a boat)

Avoid using the words "ship" and "boat interchangeably just to avoid repeating the same word. They are not synonyms!

Use words like vessel, ferry, schooner, the brigantine, cutter, crusier, etc.

Propulsion and Steering

A ship cannot stop, start, swerve and reverse rapidly like a car.

Wind power - high speed, enables long distances, doesn't require the vessel to carry fuel.

Can't move in the abscene of wind

Can't carry out speedy manoeuvres in a battle.

Felling the mast will cripple the entire ship.

Oars (rowing) - allow for greater manoeuvrability, rapid direction changes, and relaively quick starts and stops.

Doesn't achieve great speed and isn't suitable for long distances.

Steam - creates speed, doesn't depend on wind.

Requires carry coal, which limits the amount of cargo that the ship can carry.

Vessels felled with oil or nuclear power can travel faster and vaster distances.

However, they still can't stop, start, swerve and reverse as quickly as a car.

Space

The deck of a ship/boat is a limited space where fighters can fall overboard, climb up a mast, jump down, or leap onto another deck.

It may be full of obstacles: the masts, coiled rops, possible clutter, crates and barrels of cargo and provisions.

There may be livestock, chickens in cages and goats tethered to the mast, intended to provide fresh meat on the long voyage.

Atmosphere

A sea battle will have interesting sounds like roaring canons, crashing masts, splintering wood, panicked chickens, waves crashing against the hull, the wind whipping the sails, the splashing of men overboard.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[detroitlib]

View of the freighter "Sonoma" carrying Dodge and Plymouth cars to Buffalo, New York. Label on back: "Down to the sea in ships. These are days when nearly every available local transportation method has Detroit-made automobiles for cargoes. While hundreds of men crowd the factory drive-away yards, fleets of specially constructed tracks leave for far-off dealer points. Railroad cars, each holding four cars, are strung into miles of trains, and lake vessels, crowded to the decks with cars and trucks, cleave the waters. These are inspiring sights duplicated nowhere in all the world. The picture above shows the good ship Sonoma of the Nicholson Universal Line on its way to Buffalo, carrying Dodge and Plymouth cars to waiting dealers." Stamped on back: "June 23, 1936."

National Automotive History Collection, Detroit Public Library

[toothachepng]

Kiss me Animal

This has been in my drafts way too long with me very slowly updating it. I haven't written in a long time and this is honestly super self indulgent. I just need more plus size readers with Brian in my life

Warnings- Reader is described to have tits and cunt and is called pretty girl. P in V, praise kink, Brian definitely being ooc and a simp for soft chubby girls, fight me. I think that's it, I tried to make it friendly for all the plus sized girlies to read so if I missed any warnings or unfriendlies just lemme know :3

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

It'd been a long day

A really long fucking day, anything that could have went wrong absolutely did. Brian sighed as he kicked off his boots, the soles making a heavy thunk as they hit the wooden floor. He flopped back onto their old couch, arms resting on top of it as his head leaned back. A hand wiped down over his face as he let out a groan recalling all the events that had occurred today.

It was supposed to be a simple mission really, take out two people and wipe up any evidence the two had gathered. This sort of thing shouldn't have even required all three of them, and yet it was the messiest job they'd done in a long while. Tim triggered the back door alarm which could have worked in their favor if they had known where in the house the victims were, they didn't. A chair got taken to the back of Tim's head collectively knocking him out for a bit. Of all things Toby had to be threatened with was a blow torch, the fire of course freaking him out and causing him to stumble into Brian.

Another groan left the man as he shook his head, cringing at just how clumsy all three of them had been. Of course they did what needed to be done, but the drive back was tense as fuck with the other two being royally pissed off about how everything had gone down.

Brian was over the whole thing, wanting to just let it roll off his back and move on with his day. The blonde lazily sat up, throwing his hoodie off and onto a chair as he walked into the cabins little kitchenette. It was almost a surprise to see someone else there, forgetting for a quick moment that it wasn't just him and the other two men in the cabin anymore. He eyed you as you didn't seem to notice his presence, which wouldn't be the first time for Brian anyways. You'd been here for a few months, the operator unfortunately having taken a liking to you and directing you to their cabin of all areas.

Brian's eyes washed over your plump form, it looked like you had just rolled out of bed, hair unkempt and a loose t-shirt falling off your shoulder. His eyes went lower, a tight lil pair of black shorts were hugging your ass and chubby thighs. He hated those tiny little shorts, though you obviously seemed to love them since you wore them so God damn often. Maybe if you hadn't Brian would have talked to you more, no excuses for his mind or eyes to start wandering, though even he knew that was a lie. The man still couldn't hold conversation with you even when out doing work, and you wore cargo pants for fucks sake.

Brian looked off to the side, not wanting to be a creep as he cleared his throat to get your attention. It seemed like that was always his goal though, not wanting to appear as some sort of creep to you. It annoyed him to no end, he was the smooth talker out of their group, if they had to talk to a victim he was the first to go without a problem.

"Hey, how'd it go?". You didn't turn to face him as he walked up to the counter, pouring himself a mug of coffee. Glancing at your face, you almost looked annoyed with the slight pout and furrowed eyebrows.

"It uh, definitely could've gone better, the other two went out to go cool off from it actually". You looked over to him amused, sipping at your own mug with a nod, eyes slipping down him for a brief second before quickly looking away.

"You alright? Look like you been sleeping all day, and doesn't look like it was a good sleep". He let out a soft chuckle, at the grimace that came over your face with a shake of your head.

"Yeah I'm alright, though sleeping would've been much more accomplishing honestly". You sighed out while setting your mug in the sink. Brian raised an eyebrow at that, more accomplishing?

Watching you walk out of the kitchen, his eyes trailed down once again, before letting out a cough to himself and looking away.

This was usually how it went since you started staying with the three of them. Sure the two of you had held a few conversations late at night on the couch, but you just seemed to hold much longer talks with Tim and Toby, Tim of all people? Brian felt like he was honestly losing his touch. With a sigh he rolled onto his back, thick comforter shifting underneath him as he stared at the ceiling. His body shifted as his mind easily wandered to past images of your body, his hand going over his face at how easily worked up he seemed to be lately. Maybe he just needed a good fuck?

Though, when even was the last time he got laid? Too long apparantly as he groaned trying to remember before slipping a hand down his sweats. He let out a huff as he wrapped a fist around his half hard cock, immediately an image of those tiny black shorts coming to mind.

He swallowed thickly as he slowly pumped up and down, wetting his bottom lip as he imagined your soft thighs spilling out of fabric. How they dug into your flesh when you sat on the couch across from him. He loved how when you sat down the soft skin of your tummy bunched up over your hip and spilled out of whatever bottoms you had on. He let out a low groan, imagining how soft you'd feel against him, thumb running over the head of his cock, smearing the drip of precum over his member.

His head tilts back against the pillow, a soft wet slap being heard around the room. He let's out a grunt, imagining the jiggle of your ass as you ran in front of him, fuck if only co-

Knock, knock knock

Eyes snapped open at the light rap on his door, an annoyed low grunt leaving him as he tucked himself back into his sweats. Trudging to the door and opening it, about to give whoever it was a fuck off.

"H-hey, um sorry I know it's late."

The annoyed look on Brian's face quickly fell, suddenly aware of how his sweats hugged around his crotch he leaned himself away from the door frame as best as he could.

"Oh no don't worry about it, I wasn't asleep anyways. Did you need something?" He smiled down at you as calmly as he could trying to appear as relaxed as he could. He scanned your body as quickly as he could, fuck you had another pair of those damn shorts? Another color but it didn't matter, you were at his door in those tight lil things with a snug tank top on. He gulped slightly as he watched your chest rise and fall, watching how your flesh threatened to spill out over the fabric. How it hugged your soft sides and hips and waist and holy fuck he could see your hard nipples clearly through it.

"You have a bad staring problem, yknow that Brian?."

Hazel eyes snapped back up to your face that held a small smile. Brian felt his face heat up as he coughed into his fist.

"Fuck sorry, could you repeat yourself? Maybe I'm more tired than I thought". Playing it off with a chuckle as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

You looked up at him with an eyebrow raised, stepping closer to him and into the door frame.

"I'm not that oblivious, you know that right?" Your hand came up to rest on his chest with a playful smile. Brian had to stare at you for a few seconds, feeling the warmth of your hand on his bare skin had his head reeling.

The next few moments were a blur of you getting tugged into the bedroom, big hands gripping at the soft flesh on your hips. Your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him into a kiss had Brian almost melting, pushing you against his door as he felt you up. Surprised as soft lips moved against his own excitedly.

It felt like Brian couldn't touch enough of you, wanting more of your soft flesh to squish between his fingers. A low groan left him as you tugged at his bottom lip, his hand pulling your thigh up to wrap around his hips. A shudder went through him as you ground yourself against his lap.

Lips trailed down your soft jaw and neck, his hands going lower to squeeze at your ass while he sucked just above your collar. The soft whimpers leaving your parted lips every time he sucked on your skin had him grinding himself back against you.

"Fuck pretty girl, don't know how long I've wanted to feel you like this." He pulled away from your marked neck. A hand was brought up to your face and he let out an amused hum at the warmth coming from your cheeks. You let out a little pant before smiling at him.

"I should've shown up at your door late at night a lot sooner then huh? I guess I just didn't ever wanna interrupt your lil one on one times with yourself." You had a sly smile as you scrunched your nose up at him. Brian dropped his head with a slight chuckle, quickly gripping your other thigh and hoisting you up. He let out a laugh at the the yelp that came out of you.

"What a fucking tease, you knew all this time and didn't even wanna help a guy out? Maybe I should just leave you high and dry tonight then." He gave you a serious stare but it was a fucking lie. There was no way Brian was gonna choose not to sink into your soft form and watch you come undone. Annoyingly you seemed to already know that as you smiled at him.

"Just take me to the bed already, we both know thats not happening".

Brian could have said something sarcastic but did as told anyway, sitting on the edge of the bed so you were perched on his lap all pretty. His hands couldn't help but find place on your soft hips, thick fingers sinking into the doughy skin. His fingers found the fabric of your shorts, tugging them down and off of you, a small smirk forming on his lips at the sight of the pretty little thong you had on underneath.

You rested your hands on his chest, gliding them up and down the bare skin before dragging down to the top of his sweatpants.

Brian had to hold back a groan as you shifted against him. A sigh leaving him as you held onto his shoulders, his own hands tugging you closer as you ground into him. Half lidded eyes glanced up to your face, lips parted and your eyes downcast as you watched yourself move against him.

He felt like he was a in a haze as he watched you, hands gripping onto you like they never wanted to let go. He brought a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head so he could kiss your lips. Brian guided your hand back to his sweats, letting you tug them down to let his cock out. A sigh left him through his nose as you got right back to grinding against him, his cock catching on your damp panties every so often. A low chuckle goes through his chest at the sound of your whines, reaching a finger down to tug your panties aside. Rough hands gripped tightly onto your hips, beginning to guide your movements as his cock slid back and forth between your wet folds, the tip of his cock bumping against your clit every so often.

You found yourself on your back suddenly, head sinking down into a pillow as you blinked up at the blonde. It almost seemed predatory how he hovered over you, flushed lips panting as his eyes raked over your form. His hand almost smacks down onto your thigh with how rough he grips it, watching the fat squeeze through his fingers before moving your thighs apart and moving himself inbetween them.

Brian gulped as he watched your chest rise and fall underneath him, the way you looked laying there had his head racing with too many scenarios of everything he wanted to do to you.

"Please?". Just one word had him almost losing it, he'd imagined himself teasing you until you couldn't take it anymore countless times, but right now he couldn't seem to find the patience. Brian has to almost hold back a groan as he grips his cock, pushing it against your wet hole a few times before finally sinking in. The whine that leaves you has him huffing out a laugh as he catches his breath, grip tight on your hips as he lets you adjust.

It's truly a sight to see for Brian, thighs spread open around him, tank top bunched up on top of your soft tummy, the fabric stretched to the side and letting your tits almost spill out. He watched as your hands came up to paw at his chest, a lopsided grin forming on his lips as you mouthed his name. He didn't need anymore than that to start quickly putting into you, a grunt and a pant leaving him every few thrusts.

"Feel so soft under me pretty girl, fuck, just like I imagined." Rough hands squeezed at your thighs and hips, trailing up to your tummy despite the whines leaving you.

"Really don't understand how many times I've thought about fucking this soft cunt, so fuckin warm and tight and so god damn wet. Do you hear the filthy sounds your little cunt is making for me?." One of his hands left your thighs, coming up to grip your jaw in his hand so you could look up at him, smiling down at you like the cocky fuck he is. It felt like words were stuck in the back of your throat as he fucked you, your mouth opening a few times but no more than a moan leaving you. He grins with a harsh pant, hand leaving your jaw as it reaches down to suddenly tug at your nipple, a yelp leaving you.

"Oh I knew you could still talk, come on pumpkin, wanna hear you. Gotta use your big girl words for me."

The way he was talking to you was certainly doing something to you, talking in that sweet loving tone, his words drawn out, and yet it felt like he was mocking you. A louder moan leaves you as he moves to grip one of your thighs, holding it up against his hip so he can fuck into you deeper.

"Come on, tell me how it feels won't you baby?."

Fast pants and whimpers are leaving you before you can finally get your words to work. "S'feels good! Feels good Brian!."

He can't help but almost laugh at how whiny it comes out, rutting into you faster as he leans down against you.

"Aw atta girl, I knew you could do it pumpkin." The whine that leaves you before hiding your face into his shoulder is enough to make him finally laugh. Still gripping onto your thigh he slows down his pace, feeling himself getting worked up just a little too fast. He leans down just a bit more next to your ear, breathy voice the only other thing you can focus on other than his cock.

"You like when I call you sweet lil names huh sweetheart? Can't hide it with the cute sounds you make everytime I call you something. Is that all I need to do to get you to listen and talk to me hm? Call you baby, pumpkin or tell you just how good you are for me?."

Brian was really just rambling at this point, the slow drag of his cock slipping in and out of your warm cunt had his head feeling hazy. He was barely registering the way your nails slowly dug into his shoulders the more he talked.

"Don't worry baby, you can be my good girl every night." Finally leaning back up, he holds your cheek in his hand, taking a deep breath as he picks his pace back up again. He watches tears well up in your eyes, how warm your cheek is against his hand from embarrassment was going straight to his cock. His lips were on yours suddenly, the kiss messy and wet with drool seeping down your lips. Eyes were half lidded, watching the other before Brian pulled away, thumb coming up to swipe the drool back into your mouth. A heavy pant left him as he sunk his thumb into your mouth, resting it on your tongue as he groaned. He kept it there as his thrusts became short and quick.

"Need to feel you cum around me pretty girl, wanna watch you make a complete mess of yourself." Fingers slipped down in-between the both of you, two fingers coming down to your clit and rubbing in slow small circles. The arch in your back had him speeding up his fingers, grin never leaving his face as he watched your eyes screw shut.

"Fu-fuck, I-."

"Go ahead sweetheart, lemme feel you." Just one more sweet little name was all you needed apparently as you let out a whiny moan, thighs shuddering in his grasp. Both hands came to grip your waist as he grunted, quick curses leaving him before he was spilling into you.

Your hand ran over your forehead and layed above you as you panted, staring up at the ceiling as you listened to the blonde pant beside you. You glanced over at him, arm laying over his chest as he seemed to also be in a daze. Watching his Adams apple bob as he swallowed before glancing over at you too. The boyish smile that formed on his lips was enough for you as you smiled back.

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

Comments super appreciated cause I really wanna get back into writing, especially for marble hornets. Also yes this is set in an AU where they work for the operator, I'm sorry but it's easy and I'm dumb for them

[ltwilliammowett]

Naval Slang

Here is a small collection of slang that is just too short for its own posts.

Anchor or to get one's ass to an- to sit down.

Ant' bollock on the beach - something is extremely hard to locate.

At loose ends - there is little to do. The ends of ropes at sea were easily untangled and formed loose ends. So if there was little to do, the captain could instruct the crew to check the ropes for loose ends and repair them.

Beam ends - When the ship is almost at the beam ends, it means that it is capsizing and in danger of sinking, with the deck beams almost perpendicular to the sea surface. Today it means - to be in a hopeless situation.

Bite the bullet - Men who were flogged with the lovely cat were often given a piece of leather and later a bullet to bite on so they would stop screaming in pain. If he did, he was scornfully called a nightingale.

Boom and Mizzen- Cockney rhyming slang for prison.

Brace of Shakes - I'll be with you in a brace of shakes, literally means I'll be with you before the sail has time to shake twice, in other words I'll be with you almost immediately.

Bread hook - finger

Colours tied to the mast - Give up ? Forget it, this one will be fought to the bitter end.

Cranky- She's hard to sail and unstable. The modern version means awkward, eccentric or hard to understand - often used in connection with women.

Deck Cargo - Breasts

(I'm going to) deck (you) - I'll punch you so hard in the face that you'll see the deck up close. But since such acts were forbidden at sea, they waited until the opponents were in port and could settle it there.

Donkey Wallopers - Royal Navy slang for members of mounted cavalry regiments.

Don't spoil the Ship for a ha'porth of tar - To half-finish a job by not filling the planks properly with hot tar when lapping. Ships will leak if too little tar is applied, so a little extra effort is well worth it.

Goose without gravy - a flogging without blood.

Grass combers - seamen with an agricultural background.

Hit the deck - When a swivel gun or cannon was to be fired at close range, sailors would dive onto the deck to avoid being hit.

[cargoshirts]

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[carolmunson]

eddie munson x fem!reader | steve harrington x fem!reader

COMING SOON TO THEATERS. A FANFICTION ADAPTION OF ACADEMY AWARD WINNING FILM 'TITANIC' WRITTEN BY:

@loveshotzz @newlips and @carolmunson

ORIGINAL SCREEN PLAY + FILM WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY JAMES CAMERON. ALL OF THOSE ICONIC SCENES AND LINES ARE, OF COURSE, CREDITED TO WHOM CREDIT IS DUE: JAMES CAMERON

PREVIEW:

Wednesday, April 10th, 1912 Southampton, London

The blare of the fog horn is unmissable, rattling the conversations in a small pub off the White Star Dock. Even through the dusty windows she was clear as day, big as anything anyone had ever seen. Large black body met with a red base, multiple decks, and four large smoke stacks. The ship seemed to go on forever, her beauty unmatched to anyone who had seen it – a behemoth on the seas. A glory – a masterpiece.

The doors of the pub fluttered open and closed all morning as it edged closer and closer to noon. Pints poured by the dozens, the hundreds – half the country coming to the piers to see off the Ship of Dreams and its passengers. The bar was alight with chatter, mixing in with the roar of people from outside — hundreds of people halfway to boarding, waving and kissing goodbye. Beer glasses clinked and people cheered while they watched a long line of high end cars gleam in the spring sun as they rolled down the dock. Precious cargo full of Europe and America’s elite. 

Reporters and bellhops alike flock to them like flies, pub patrons ogling through the dusty windows while they exit their buggies.

Among the commotion, the endless chatter and screeching of pub seats, sat four men oblivious to the spectacle. They’re sitting around a small table with sweat on their brows as the April sun pours golden over them. Eyes burning over their cards as cigarette smoke wafts over their heads — the players lost in the fog during an intense round of poker.

The pot was mostly meager — a few pounds and swaths of change, a pocket watch, a penknife. But in the center was the crown jewel, a prize that would change the winner’s life forever. Two pieces of pressed parchment reading: 

The men leer over their hands, not a friendly face between them — the tickets were not the dealer’s, but two of the players who had bet the wrong guys. Guys who had been beyond the break and back again, meeting in Morocco, then Paris, and traveling together back to London — guys who had never lost a game of poker. 

Eddie places his bet, pulling a small silver ring off of his right ring finger and tossing it in the center. 

“Are you kidding?” Jeff asks from his left, “That’s everything we have.” 

Eddie grins at him, taking a drag of his cigarette. The sun dances in his big brown eyes like he knows something the rest of them don’t, “When you got nothin’, you got nothin’ to lose.” 

The two other players speak to each other heatedly in Swedish after one of them hits for a new card. The outburst makes it clear that things aren’t looking good for the Swedes — it makes Eddie’s heart leap. Maybe this is it, maybe he’s finally gonna get back to the states. “Sven?” he asks the man next to him. “Hit,” he replies, putting down a card and taking another. Eddie follows suit, furrowing his brow while his bangs meet his eyelashes. Sweat collects on the nape of his neck where his dark curls are twisted up in a graphite drawing pencil – a trick he picked up from women he met in France. He puffs the smoke from his mouth, eyes meeting the Swede across from him who looks like he couldn’t be having a worse day. 

“Alright,” he says, putting his cigarette down on the ashtray between then, “Moment of truth. Somebody’s life’s about to change.” 

He leans back in his chair and looks at his friend, sweat beading at the edge of his hairline and glinting off of his deep skin, “Jefferey?” 

Jeff throws his cards down with a roll of his eyes. “Nothing,” Eddie nods. 

“Nothing,” Jeff says curtly through a grit in his teeth. His heart pounds in his chest while he looks at the last of their money on the table – they can’t afford to lose. 

“Olaf?” Eddie asks, the Swede throws down his cards in a huff, “Nothin’.” 

“Sven?” 

Sven puts down his cards and Eddie frowns, “Oh…two pair.” 

His shoulders droop while he looks at his own cards, eyes lingering on the silver ring in the middle of the table, “I’m sorry, Jeff.” 

“What do you mean ‘sorry’?” You idiot! You bet all of our bloody money! You imbecile, you–”

“I’m sorry, you’re not going to be able to visit your cousins in Paris again for a long time,” Eddie says with a serious edge. Jeff quirks his brow, triggering Eddie’s winning smile behind plush pink lips. 

“‘Cause we’re goin’ to America!” he exclaims, slamming his cards down on the table, “FULL HOUSE, BOYS!” 

Jeff leaps from his chair in the back of the pub, reaching for the tickets on the on the table, “WE’RE GOIN’ TO BACK TO AMERICA!” 

“I’m goin’ home!” Ed exclaims while the boys hug tightly. The pub cheers for them, pints still flowing — men and women with red cheeks having no idea what they’re cheering for until a fight breaks out between the Swedes. 

Eddie laughs, hoisting his bag up over his shoulder and Jeff does the same — their white shirts dirtied with the stains of the day before.

“I can’t believe it,” Jeff says, teeth shining in a grin across his face, “Goin’ back to America!” 

“Titanic’s going back to America, boys,” the barkeep says, pointing at the clock, “In five minutes!” 

[sageceleste]

favorite male cc finds!✨ with 60+ links | Sims 4 Custom Content Haul (Maxis Match)

find all of my cc finds for male sims below! watch full video here & the pinterest board for this cc haul.

CC Links

Hairs

Sebastian Hair 

Max Hair

Hugh Hair

Funke Hair

Dennis Hair

Marco Hair

Paulson Hair

Carl Hair

Christian Hair

Silas Hair

Charles Hair

Rowan Hair

Fabio Hair

Keith Hair

Pedro Hair

Leander Hair

Accessories & shoes

Timothy Glasses

Dad Glasses

Moon Chain earrings

Grayson necklace

Alexander necklace 

Watch

Horololo glasses

Constant necklace

Men’s shoe collection

Old skool sneakers

Misfit bucket hat

Clothing

Suspended pants

New shapes pants

Bloom set

Cadet collar sweatshirt

London shirt

Short sleeve cardigan

Double button formal set

Replay suit set

Hoodie shirt 

Mandarin collar shirt

Puffer vest v1

Bomber jacket

Take off pants

Inferno shirt

V-neck shirt

Slim fit jeans

Incheon arrivals addons

High school years addons

Accessory shirts

Tank top

Austin jeans

Casey cargo pants

Taemin pants

Macchiato sweatsuit

Insomnia jacket v2

Daisy chain snowy escape recolor

Equinox collection

Supercut outfit

First fits kit addons

Tied shirt

Nelson vest

Yosemite acc shirt

Nathan top

Lucas top

[telvannitea]

notes: 18+ mdni, horangi x reader, horangi x könig, dub-con(ish), horangi toxic af and has also ran through the rest of kortac at least twice lol, please excuse my korean

okay, let me set the scene...

you're kortac's new admin hire. (human resources at a pmc? lol) not your ideal career but a paycheck is a paycheck and this one comes with full benefits and your own office.

könig is doing the rounds, introducing you to the soldiers on base. you meet horangi and use your sparse language skills (courtesy of your prior employment at a conglomerate with clients all over the globe) to recite a stilted greeting in korean.

you realize afterwards that you've fucked up. he's picked up on your desire to impress, to please, from one simple act. kim hongjin is the worst kind of playboy, relentless and shameless. he trails after you whenever he's on base, hounding you in his native tongue.

어디가? (where are you going?)

우리 술 한잔 할까? (you want to have a drink?)

애인 있어? (do you have a lover?)

he texts you on your personal cell during and after work hours - you don't want to know how he got the number. you add him to your contacts under 쓰레기 and then block him. simple solutions for simple men.

쓰레기 = trash :)))

who are you supposed to report sexual harassment to? yourself? yeah...fuck that.

you storm into könig's office and stop short of the doorway, shock bleeding into your scorn. maybe it has something to do with horangi and könig enthusiastically fucking on the latter's desk. maybe not.

you don't say a word, leaving as quickly as you burst in. the image of horangi, cargos slung low on his hips, rutting into a whiny, desperate könig is absolutely not burned into your brain and you definitely will not be using said image to get yourself off later. who else has he messed around with? you wonder. roze? oni? nikto, even?

no, no, no, these are dangerous thoughts. not going there.

you scurry back to your office, fumbling to collect your things and get home. you feel feverish and chilled at the same time, too aware of the slick pooling under your skirt. you turn, bag and keys in hand.

"going home already?" horangi leans against the doorframe, casual like he didn't leave someone high and dry to come running after you. he's without his sunglasses you realize, dark velvet eyes meeting yours. "you looked like you needed something, 공주."

공주 = princess

you don't reply. you can't. any lie you try to feed him, he'll spit back out at you. your heartbeat spikes as awareness of your situation sets in. the tiger's caught you in the cage you've made.

you know he's smiling beneath the mask when he steps closer, taking hold of your wrist. he slides your bag off your shoulder and slowly guides you backward, until the back of your legs hits your desk chair. he pushes down on your shoulders until you sit, wide eyes never leaving his.

he drops to his knees. you squeeze your thighs together, clocking his intentions. using the meager brain activity you still possess, you open your mouth to protest, "this really isn't a good idea, horangi-"

"hongjin." he interrupts, slapping your hands away when you try to keep him from pulling your skirt up, keep him from what he wants. "when you cum, that's the name you're gonna scream."

type of man to make you call him 오빠 in bed lololol

[tellmealittlelie]

Ocean Deep - Chapter 1

Previous: Preface

TW: Mentions of assault, blood, injury and scientific experimentation of humanoid creatures.

________________________

It was nearing dusk when the little schooner finally puttered into obscurity - no other boats in sight as far as the eye could see in all directions, and land was, at this point, a simple figment of imagination. They had been motoring forward since dawn, and now, just over thirteen hours later, the captain and his crew were absolutely sapped.

Two of the men, at their captain's orders, wheeled over their cargo to the side of the boat, leading the schooner to tip slightly to the side. The men cleared off the clutter on top of the container - a disguise if someone had met them before they had reached their destination, piles of boxes, hooks, bait and rods were cleared to the side and the spare sail that had acted as veil, was removed deftly and flung to the side.

The captain, a stout man, fumbled with his keys before unlatching the padlock and letting in a rush of air to the contents of the container. The captain tentatively peered inside, but seeing that the creature continued to lay unconscious, though, - most probably dead, or at the very least near death - he hummed to himself lazily.

It was a pretty little thing, or at least it used to, and it had certainly been quite useful to study, but now, his toy broken beyond repair, it was time to dispose of it, in the most convenient way possible. He unlatched the side of the box, letting one of the long walls drop down and allowing the blood tinged water to spill out and into the ocean, the creature following shortly after, the water pushing it out and down into the black depths. 

He only let his crew a final moment of reprise before ordering everything to be placed exactly as it had been before and charting a course back to the mainland.

The creature was, as one of the men said to another, out of sight and therefore out of mind. The body would surely fit in with the others of the same species on the ocean floor and their actions would therefore never be traced back to them - and it was easier than burning the thing, lest a scale remain and cause people to start asking questions.

~~~~

As the body slowly sank to the bottom of the ocean, it left a slow trail of blood behind it, tainting the water above it a sickly pale pink. Luckily, no creature reached for the body, the sharp scent of chemicals leading them to swim away rather than closer to inspect the oddity. 

However, not all creatures were repulsed, once the body was almost at the bottom of the ocean - where light was hard to come by - a ghostlike creature steadily approached the body with lightly veiled curiosity.

When he got a better view, he swam closer and after a moment tugged the body closer to him, noting the dull colorless sickly scales and the wounds littering it’s - his - body.

The ghost brought the man closer to his chest and after adjusting his new charge in his arms, took off back towards his den.

He wasn’t sure why, but something seemed to be calling for him to care for the man, to protect and heal his bruised and bloodied skin and brighten his scales to see their true color.

It was only a couple of minutes before he reached his den and he slipped past the barrier easily, before laying the man in a soft nest of collected human scraps; pieces of cloth and delicate seaweed latticework which made the nest homey and comfortable.

The ghost went and gathered his things from the shelves, keen eyes seeing easily in the dark. He slathered on a thick healing balm and then wrapped the wound up, quickly but effectively, with clean, thick strips of seaweed.

As he pulled away he finally noticed a plastic human cuff tightly wound around the man’s wrist. The ghost peered closer until he could read the black, uniforme writing spelling out: S141-OAP.

The ghost leaned back, he knew he was getting himself into something when he took the little merman back with him, but he had thought that he might be more use than problem to him - but now, maybe the baggage that this little thing was bringing along with him was more effort than what he would receive in compensation.

Ah, well, he wasn’t so cruel that he would toss out the bloke now, he would wait till he woke and if he was agreeable to work for him, perhaps he could stay a bit longer, if not, there was a door and he could get the hell out.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Best support friend; Rocket raccoon x gn reader

*Author’s note*

A double update? No get out of town! Truthfully I was gonna save posting this fic up once I got a Jack Kline request that has been sitting in my inbox collecting dust for almost a year or however long ago it was but I decided idk when I’ll post it up so I decided to just go ahead and post this fic up and hopefully I’ll do the Jack Kline one in the next week or so (it’s like 75% done).

So @itsscromp​ here is your new Rocket raccoon request.

Warnings: abuse, fluff, panic attacks, angst, protective Rocket, swearing, clueless ravagers. 

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queen-paladin​

@queensdivas​

@gay-and-ready-to-cry​

@austynparksandpizza​

___________________________________________________________

“NONE OF THIS WOULD’VE HAPPENED IF YOU HAD JUST LET ME TAKE THE REINS FOR ONCE!!” exclaimed a voice.

“Well excuse me for not letting the man with the robotic eyes take the wheel.” Another voice snarked sarcastically.  I was passing through Knowhere trying to organize some supplies when I heard the sound of arguing.  I followed the voices and there were Ezekiel and Torath.

“Oh no what now?” I muttered as I walked towards them.  The two of them continued to argue as I spoke up. “Hey guys.”

“You have any idea what that shrimp Quill is gonna do to us the minute we tell you lost the cargo?” Torath said.

“I lost the cargo? Need I remind you that it was because of your glitchy eyes that you hit the ejector button sending the cargo out into the depths of space!” Ezekiel snapped again at Torath.

“And need I remind you that you are literally the worst pilot in the entire galaxy! I’ve seen beasts with half a brain fly advance ships better than you!”

“Okay guys can we please just….” I tried to cease the argument but the two stubborn, pig-headed men got into a squabble.  Fists were flying and swears were spat out.  “hey! Hey! Hey! Hey guys stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” suddenly I caught an elbow to the nose which not only sent me to the ground but also in a flashback.

~Flashback~

I fell to the ground as a punch came across my face and I whimpered as I spat out blood.

“Quit being weak Terran! How will you ever grow a backbone if you keep behaving like a sniveling coward!”

“But sir it—” I was kicked in the stomach this time and I let out a soft but painful grunt.

“You tell me it hurts and I swear I will make your next test more painful than the last!” I whimpered and gave him a nod as he forced me to stand back up and told me to stand my ground as he kept punching and kicking me.

~End of flashback~

My chest tightened and my heart pounded against my ears.  No I-I wasn’t there! I wasn’t there anymore! I-I have to get out of here! I stood up and took off running as fast as I could. Even when I had ran into someone I didn’t stop, all I knew was that I had to get out of there.

*Rocket’s POV*

I felt someone shove pass me but just before I could snap at them telling them to watch where they were going, I saw the familiar shape of (Y/n).  Normally they don’t just run like that unless there’s something wrong or their in a hurry. And they’re usually not in a hurry.

That’s when I heard the sound of Torath and Ezekiel screaming and rolling all over each other in a brawl.  I went over to them and called out to them.

“OI SHITS FOR BRAINS!!” but not even my voice could deter them from arguing.  I nodded nonchalantly as I took out my electro-shocker gun and activated it.  I first aimed it at Ezekiel and fired one shot before firing at Torath.  And just like when Groot, (Y/n) and I first hunted down Quill, they both exclaimed as the electro-shock balls stuck to them and they were given a good shock.  “Have I got your attention now shitbags?”

“What was that for rodent?” snapped Ezekiel.

“First of all don’t call me a rodent, not when I can give you a second dosage of shocks. Maybe this time I’ll crank it up a notch.” That got him to shut up.  “Second of all, why was (Y/n) racing out from your general direction looking upset?”

“(Y/n) was here?” Torath asked as his robotic eyes moved around.

“Yeah she was now answer my question nimrods! What happened?!”

“I didn’t even know that she had even came here.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“How do you not notice them? They’re the only Terran besides Quill!”

“Wait, is that why my elbow hurts so much?” asked Ezekiel. My ears twitched and I slowly turned towards him, my tail twitching in anger.

“What. Was that. You said?!” I sneered lowly.

“In our squabble, I—I felt my elbow hit something but I—” I didn’t even let him finish as I launched at him and proceeded to beat the shit out of him.  Blinded by pure rage.

How dare this son of a bitch hit (Y/n)! She had to live her entire life abused and tortured just to prove that she could enhance her skin into a hard-carbon shield.  Had it not been for Groot and I, she would’ve had to spend the rest of her miserable life with that sick, cowardly bastard.

I was deep in my rage that I hadn’t even felt myself being pulled forced away from Ezekiel and Quill’s voice exclaimed.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa Rocket cool it man! Now I don’t know what the hell brought this on but you need to chill out right now!”

“This spineless rat hurt (Y/n)!” I yelled.

“I didn’t know they were even here! We didn’t know they were there!” Ezekiel tried to reason as Torath helped him up.

“With the way you two were bitching at each other you couldn’t see your own noses at the end of your faces!” I managed to wriggle my way out of Quill’s hold and without another word raced off to find (Y/n).

Being reminded of any form of abuse whether it’s done to themselves or they see if, they get triggered by it and let me tell you it gets bad.  So bad that they sometimes forget where they are or whose friend of foe.  All they see is that damned doctor.

I was asking around hoping that anyone had seen them but they all proved to be a bunch of negligent losers.  That was until Mantis had said that she felt their emotions coming from my ship.  I raced back to the Milano and soon enough in the main cockpit I found them huddled up, their chest rising up and down at an erratic pace.

I could also hear just how bad their heart was racing and could smell the panicked sweat from not only their brow but also their clammy hands. I walked towards them but didn’t speak, at this point they wouldn’t be able to hear me.  But there was one way to pull them out of this…..and Quill or Drax better not be spying on me otherwise I’ll blast them halfway across the quadrant.

I sat as close as I could beside them and first gave their bicep a gentle and affectionate nuzzle.  I then placed my paw onto their forearm and using my claws I very gently stroked down the skin of their forearm.  Then going back up to the same place where I started before going back down again.

“C’mon (N/n). Come back to me. You can do this.” I muttered before their breathing slowed and they seemed to be coming back down to reality.

*My POV*

It had been forever since I had a panic attack.  If I didn’t know what they were, I swear I thought I was dying.  My vision was so blurry, I couldn’t even see my own hand in front of my face.  There was this high-pitch ringing that was constantly piercing my ears and my body felt paralyzed after I had collapsed into god knows where.

That’s when I felt something furry against my arm.  I also felt sharp nails (or claws) gently stroke down my arm.  They didn’t hurt but they did send tingles up from my arm to my spine.  Slowly the claws kept stroking down my forearm until I lifted it up and found my hand being placed on something soft.

I opened my eyes and after blinking away some of the tears as well as the haze that my vision was making, it began to focus and there I saw Rocket sitting right beside me.  His ears slightly bent backward as his eyes were looking at me assuringly and I also saw that my hand was now resting just on top of his head.

He gave me a soft nod and allowed me to stroke through his fur (knowing that it helped calm me down in the past).  After petting his head for a few minutes, I was able to unfold my legs from my chest so that they now were fully extended in front of me and I felt the tingling sensation of them falling asleep.

Rocket then rested his upperbody on top of my right thigh and allowed me to continue stroking his fur until I felt a vibration on my thigh. I looked down and as I stroked down Rocket’s neck, I could feel him purring, like actually purring.  I didn’t even know he could purr (kinda made me think back to the cats back on Earth).

“I….didn’t know you could purr like a cat.”

“This is a once in a lifetime thing. You speak of this to anyone, especially that stupid mutt Cosmo, I’ll rip your head off.”

“Thank you Rocket. This……means a lot.”

“Been a long time since you had one, figured you’d need something to help calm you down.” Rocket can be gruff and hard on the outside but when he wants to, if you look deep, deep, deep, deep down inside, you’ll find that he’s just a sweet, caring, intuitive creature who will do anything to help you out.

Even if it’s purring like a cat and having someone pet you constantly until they feel centered again.  But I wouldn’t have my best friend any other way.

[tanoraqui]

[spins the Silm Headcanons Nobody Else Shares (Yet) wheel]

Though Elrond was, inevitably, involved in the politics of building Lindon, he was not only NOT Gil-Galad’s official herald yet at the start of the Second Age, but he was only tangentially involved with the new government. Instead, Elrond spent the first few centuries of the Second Age as an adventuring anthropologist/archeologist.

He traveled around Lindon, and inland and up and down the shore, talking to all variety of refugees and recording the histories and cultures of their people, from ancient myths to recent war stories to how this group of Men (or Elves or Dwarves) cooks their porridge vs how that one does. He dug and sometimes dove into ruins of forts rent by Light and Shadow, often with foul lingering malaise, to retrieve papers and goods warped by flame, sea, and worse.

Because Elrond’s childhood was filled with many refrains of loss, and one was,

“This is how we baked nutcakes in Menegroth!” his mother explained, hands sticky with chestnuts and honey. Under her breath, not meaning her even stickier sons to hear, she added, “I think.”

“Oh yes, there were…” Eärendil’s fingers twitched as he counted in his head. “…eleven different major fountains in Gondolin! One for each Great House, though all were managed by Lord Ecthelion—oh, no, but then that must be ten…?”

“Now, in a proper course of musical education, I would be starting you on basic dancing songs today. But Filúriel is the only one of us left who knows how to dance a good gavotte—”

“Filúriel died three years ago. Orcs on the way back from Sirion.” Maedhros didn’t look up from the daggers he was sharpening. Only his words gave any indication that he was even aware of the lesson taking place across the room.

“—But there is no one left who knows how to dance a good Tirion Gavotte.” Maglor never missed a beat. “So instead I will start you on basic Songs for striking fear into the hearts of your enemies. Have you both done your warm-up exercises today?”

[smash cut to 200 years later]

Elrond: Are you telling me. That there is a chance. That a portion of the Great Library of Thargelion, greatest collection in Beleriand of books and art brought physically from Aman, is still intact?

Random improbably still alive Nargothrond-Fëanorian #6: If the cases were water-proof as well as orc-proof and fire-proof…if they were orc-proof and fire-proof at all…especially dragonfire-proof…or dragon-ice-proof… If they stayed hidden, if we even shut them all properly in the first place, as we evacuated just ahead of the— my lord, where are you going?!

Elrond, sprinting past them down the corridor: Deep-sea diving!

(In the late Third Age, the Library of Rivendell is widely regarded as Arda’s single greatest repository of historical records of life in Middle Earth. This is incorrect—the single greatest such repository is an ever-growing library on Tol Eressëa, to which Elrond spent 3000 years sending copies of everything from Hobbit almanacs to Dwarvish epic poems to account books from three Elvish kingdoms to an Age’s worth of Dúnedain Ranger journals. Anyone Sailing with extra cargo space has been cajoled into taking at least a few tomes. People and places may be lost to time, but part of why he chose an Elvish life is so that they will not be forgotten.)