#featuring - a random crate

[danger-bird]

I am rooting for the underdogs again.

Patience is a virtue, dear childern☝🏼

Kuras thought Ais wanted to read the shipment lists with him - turns out that's not what he's looking for. Birthday man wants a birthday kiss!

[froggibus]

Pankration - Wriothesley

Pairing: Wriothesley x gn! Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 900

Summary: Wriothesley is not impressed after you get hurt fighting in the Pankration Ring

CW: injury, reader gets stabbed, fighting, pre established relationship, soft! Wriothesley, mostly just fluffy hurt/comfort, probably some spoilers for 4.1

hello it is 230am and I just did the 4.1 quests for like ~4hrs and now I have major brain rot for this man. something about him just makes my little frog brain go feral. i haven’t finished the quest yet so apologies if something isn’t correct or if I misspelled something also not taking reqs rn but if yall have some ideas for this man i think i could take them

————

The familiar sound of heavy boot steps echoes down the halls, reverberating into the infirmary. Sigewinne gives you a wide eyed look but the panic fails to register, drowned out by the pain.

You writhe on the bed, forcing yourself into a sitting position. Sigewinne stands at your side, fiddling with her fingers behind her back.

As soon as Wriothesley enters the room, you can see he’s disgruntled. Your boyfriend says nothing as he locks eyes with you, trodding towards the end of the bed.

“What happened?”

Sigewinne tries to pipe up first. “Y/n got injured fighting in the Pankration Ring.”

Wriothesley’s features soften for a moment as he looks at the Melusine. “Sigewinne, could you leave us for a moment?”

She bows her head and scurries out of the room, as if sensing the anger radiating off of him. You clench your jaw and try to keep your eyes on random objects in the room, avoiding his gaze.

“Y/n.”

You don’t look at him, staring at an empty crate in the corner of the room.

“Y/n,” his tone is harsh.

You take a deep breath and allow yourself to make eye contact. Dark blue eyes look at you, partially in concern and partially in frustration. You shrink beneath his gaze.

“What were you thinking?” He sighs in exasperation, “the ring is for fighters. It’s for people who need a little extra stimulation in their lives—it’s not for people like you.”

You nod along with his words, shoulders slumping. Your stomach still aches from where you were grazed earlier in the day, all of your muscles serving as a sore reminder to your bitter loss.

You had just wanted to try it, just one time. You were put against another amateur fighter and you thought the fight would be easy enough. You were on the verge of winning, too. Another minute or so and the fight would have been yours.

And then your opponent slashed at you with a piece of scrap metal they’d welded to a ring and your chances of winning dropped to 0.

“I would have won,” you mumble bitterly. “I would have won if he hadn’t cheated.”

Wri’s eyes widen. “Cheated how?”

From the way his eyes darken, you almost regret mentioning it. “No weapons, no serious injuries, no killing. Those are the rules.”

“Yes.” He agrees.

You lift up the hem of your shirt and reveal the gauze around your waist. “He—he brought some sort of shank into the ring, and just as I was about to win…”

You don’t need to finish speaking for him to get the picture. Wriothesley sucks in a breath, shutting his eyes to gain his composure. He looks almost scary right now, his blue eyes almost black.

His tone is gentler now. “Do you remember who it was?”

You shake your head, “no, but I’m sure the promoter does.”

He considers this for a moment before excusing himself out of the room. You let yourself slump down into the bed, the pain growing worse as the medication Sigewinne gave you wears off. A few tears threaten to spill and your poor attempts to hold them back do nothing.

Wriothesley returns a few minutes later, a somber look on his face. “He’ll be dealt with,” he assures you, and leaves it at that.

You nod, worried that if you try to speak, the tears will come pouring out. You bite your lip to keep them back.

Wri settles on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on your shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“I-I—” You don’t manage to say anything before the tears burst out.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap, holding you against his chest. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs, petting your head, “I’m so sorry.”

He keeps a secure grip on you, being extra careful not to apply too much pressure to where you were grazed. He rocks you in his arms in an attempt to soothe you, calming you down from your sudden outburst.

He keeps you in his lap even when Sigewinne comes back into the room. The nurse holds out a small white container for you to take.

“These will help with the pain, but you need to see me every day so I can change your bandages.”

You swallow and go to speak, but Wriothesley does it for you. “Thank you, Sigewinne. I’ll be taking y/n back with me now.”

The Melusine grants you a kind smile. “Feel better now.”

You swing your feet over the side of the bed and brace yourself to stand, but Wri has other plans for you. He scoops you up bridal style into his arms as if you weigh nothing.

“You—you don’t need to carry me.”

He scoffs, “and let you walk right now?”

You sigh. He has a point.

It’s not a long walk back to his office, but between the exhaustion of the day and the soothing feeling of his arms around you, you can’t help but drift off.

Wriothesley looks down at your sleeping form and smiles. He knew you wouldn’t be able to resist falling asleep if he carried you—he’s just glad that you didn’t notice it took twice as long to get back to his office as it normally does.

He lays you down in his bed and kisses your forehead. “Rest up, baby.”

[in1-nutshell]

Hi! Can you do TF 'what if…' request? What if Ophelia and Ironhold live in TFA Silver Aid universe or having TFA versions of Ophelia & Ironhold?

Where Ophelia and Ironhold (and with Steve & Rumble who are in their Pre-relationships with the Buddies), are transport to TFA universe, and also Join the Decepticon. Years later, Silver became techno-organic & joins Decepticon, and she became friends (and later mother figure) with Ophelia and Ironhold

You can also add Ophelia's & Ironhold's (future) conjuxes

I did the intro to the Ophelia and Ironhold with Silver Aid.

Hope you enjoy!

TFA Version of Ophelia and Ironhold Featuring Silver Aid

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Hinted Romance, Cybertronian reader/ techno organic reader

TFA

Megatron met the two as sparklings.

It was a couple of months into the war’s ending when Megatron had helped Shockwave sneak into the city.

He wasn’t going to leave his only spy at the gates, the warlord went in and made sure the disguise worked.

Once Shockwave left, Megatron started his way back to the ship when he heard rustling over by some nearby crates.

He went towards the crates and peaked inside.

Inside were two sparklings.

The smaller one had place herself in front of the larger one, attempting to shield them from his gaze.

It was clear as day that the smaller one was trembling in front of his optics, but she refused to move.

The bigger sparkling was also shaking but held a glare on their face.

Megatron looked down at the crate and found something written on it with a city seal.

‘DEFECTIVE BOTS. REMOVE IMMEDEATLY.’

It left a bad taste in his mouth seeing the sparklings titled as ‘defective’.

He didn’t see anything wrong with them.

Who was given the right to already name these bots as ‘defective’?

Megatron returns to the ship with two crates in his servos.

Lugnut is by his side in an instant.

Lugnut: “Lord Megatron! You have returned!”

Megatron: “Hush. I finally got them to stop making so much noise.”

Blitzwing and Starscream come to his side.

Blitzwing grabs one of the crates filled to the brim with energon.

Starscream spots something moving in the other crate.

Starscream: “What in the name of Cybertron—”

The Seeker pauses when he sees 2 pairs of optics stare right at him.

Starscream: “Are-are those sparklings?!”

His screeching caused the bigger sparkling to start shaking.

The smaller one started frantically patting their servo.

Megatron: “Starscream keep your voice low!”

The smaller sparkling then started chirping rapidly as the bigger sparkling started shaking even worse.

The mechs tried to cover their audials when they both started shrieking.

Blitzwing: “This is worse than Starscream stubbing his pede!”

Starscream: “Shut them up!”

Lugnut: “Do not speak to the sparklings with that language!”

Megatron: “…”

It wasn’t everyday you’d see the great leader of the Decepticon armada trying to shush a trembling sparkling, while another one was hanging on for dear life on his helm plating.

Megatron insisted that the sparklings were only going to stay temporarily on the ship until they came to a more suitable place to leave them.

But one night turned into two, then three, then four, then five…

Blitzwing’s Random was playing with the smaller sparkling, making silly faces and smile widening more with the sounds of the sparklings laugh.

The bigger sparkling was sitting on the ground listening to Lugnut tell another victorious battle Megatron had led them.

Megatron was watching over them from afar.

Starscream huffed by his side.

Starscream: “I think Quaker would be a good name.”

Megatron looks at his Second in Command.

Megatron: “What?”

Starscream: “For the bigger sparkling, I mean. I was thinking Rattler for the little one.”

Megatron: “What are you blundering about?”

Starscream: “They need names Megatron, calling them ‘the bigger sparkling’ and ‘smaller one’ are not proper names.”

Megatron: “To give them names is to get attached. We are still dropping them off at the nearest—”

Starscream laughs humorlessly.

Starscream: “We have passed several places for the sparklings to be taken in. Each one you have made the same excuse of it not being good enough for them. So, my question Megatron, is who are you trying to fool?”

Megatron: “I am not fooling anyone Starscream and choose your next words wisely.”

Starscream: “You’ve become attached to them just like the rest of us. So, drop the act and admit it—”

The bigger sparkling squealed in delight at Lugnut’s theatrics.

Then the bigger sparkling turned to look at Megatron with the biggest grin on their face.

Bigger sparkling: “Megatron!”

All the adult Cons: “…”

It was safe to say that he was going to keep them, no one argued otherwise.

Shortly after that, Megatron arranged a naming ceremony for the sparklings.

Officially putting the pair into the Decepticon record as part of the cause.

The big sparkling was named Ironhold.

The smaller sparkling was named Ophelia.

There were many calls from other Decepticon’s wanting to see the new recruits.

Many of them were surprised to see the recruits being sparklings, but nonetheless, they were pleased to see the little ones.

As time went on the sparklings changed as well.

Ophelia was the first to start growing, stopping around the Con’s knees.

The Con’s figured that she was a minibot after a couple more days without any sign of growth.

Ophelia didn’t mind being small.

It meant her uncles and father could still carry her around without any strain.

Plus! She could get into places the others couldn’t get into.

Megatron looking around.

Lugnut with Ironhold in his servo.

Lugnut: “Lord Megatron, are you looking for something?”

Megatron: “Ophelia needs some repairs done but absolutely refuses to come out of hiding.”

Lugnut: “My Lord—”

Megatron: “We will talk about Ironhold’s repairs later. Ophelia! You can run but you can’t hide!”

Starscream and Blitzwing walk to Lugnut’s side.

They watch Megatron walking out of the room with Ophelia holding onto some of his back plating with a mischief smile on her face.

Ironhold looks at Starscream: “Why can’t I tell him?”

Starscream: “Because little one.”

Ironhold: “Because what?”

Starscream: “…If I give you a rust stick will you keep it quiet for a couple more minutes?”

Ironhold: “Deal!”

The others assumed that Ironhold was also going to be a minibot seeing as they had grown an inch.

They were even smaller than Ophelia!

Something the bot hated.

Mainly because Ophelia could run faster and farther than they could.

Even carry them farther!

That, however, changed when they did start growing.

And growing fast.

For the Cons, one day Ironhold was the same size as Ophelia, the next they had skyrocketed and now was about the same height as Megatron.

The Con’s are 99.99% sure that Ironhold came from Decepticon origin.

Ironhold: “Hey Lugnut watch this!”

Lugnut: “Ironhold what are you doing? Why are—BY LORD MEGATRON’S NAME!”

Blitzwing comes running with Ophelia dangling from his wing.

Both Con’s looked in slight disbelief at Ironhold proudly holding Lugnut above their helm with no sign of shaking.

Ophelia: “That’s amazing!”

Ironhold: “I know right!”

Blitzwing: “Ironhold put Lugnut down!”

Ironhold: “But I’m not even tired.”

Blitzwing: “Yes, but Lugnut looks like he is going to show you his energon he drank earlier.”

Lugnut: “I’m… fine…”

Ophelia didn’t care too much that her sibling grew over night.

She was still the older one of the two.

Ophelia was now often spotted perched on Ironhold’s shoulder or somewhere near Megatron.

Then came Silver Aid.

Ophelia was the first to greet the recruit with wide smiles.

The former Autobot was a bit put off by the sudden welcome but was happy at the same time.

Ironhold was a bit cautious around the new con, but seeing as Ophelia had taken such a quick liking to her, they decided to try and get to know the techno organic.

When the pair heard about what happened to Silver Aid, it was one of the rare times were Ironhold expressed rage outward to someone.

Ophelia offered all the help she could.

Soon Ophelia and Ironhold were given official positions.

Well, as ‘official’ as they could be with their numbers.

Ophelia ended up becoming Silver Aid’s assistant while Ironhold saw more field work.

Megatron wanted to keep them both in the base, but Ironhold quickly proved to be extremely useful on supply runs.

It was also around this time when the pair noticed Silver Aid and Megatron’s looks.

Megatron had certain looks that he gave to his fellow Cons.

The softer ones were always reserved for them.

But now he was giving a different kind of soft look at the new medical officer.

Ophelia perched on his shoulder.

They were both waiting for Ironhold to get out of the medbay after landing a sizable dent on their side.

Ophelia: “Silver Aid is nice.”

Megatron hums in agreement.

Ophelia: "She’s kind, compassionate, arguably the smart one…”

Megatron mumbles: “A pretty one.”

Ophelia looks at him: “A pretty what?”

Megatron has a slight moment of panic.

Megatron: “A pretty good medic. One of the best I have seen in a while.”

Ophelia: “Since when do you use the word ‘pretty’ like that?”

Megatron grumbles a bit.

Ophelia chuckles a bit patting his helm affectionately.

Ophelia: “… Just so you know, Ironhold and I are betting when you two get together.”

Megatron with wide and embarrassed optics: “Ophelia!”

Ophelia just laughs while hugging his helm.

Megatron grumbles a bit, while adjusting his daughter on his shoulder so she wouldn’t fall off.

Meanwhile…

Ironhold looks at Silver Aid.

Ironhold: “How long is it going to take for you to confess that you love Megatron?”

Silver Aid: “Ironhold!”

Ironhold: “I just want to know. I’m betting with Ophelia, and I want that can of wax.”

[aestariiwilderness]

SPOILERS

Bad Batch Season 3 Episode 5(?) (I think?) Thoughts

Well, one big one:

HAHAHAhahahahaHHAHAHAHAHA

And the little ones:

I have been waiting for Omega to pull the age card since season 1 -- actually since before I really knew what the newest Star Wars Baby's name actually was. This was great and I want Hunter to realize it's coming for him next

I haven't stopped laughing about the "moment of silence for our fallen brother" since I saw it. Someone: *mentions Tech* Every single clone in the room: *pledge of Allegiance moment*

WHY IS CROSSHAIR STILL WEARING THE JACKET

WHY IS HE STILL WEARING THE JACKET ON A BEACH IN FULL SUNLIGHT

Crosshair is 100% the angsty sullen goth vampire hissing like he's been hit with holy water in Hawaiian environments with kind people chasing after him bearing fruit and love that I knew he would be

Crosshair: spends like two weeks on Pabu Crosshair: I can't take it anymore! UGH SUNLIGHT *drags the entire Batch to freaking Barton IV* ah, home sweet murder home. the last place I had a really good angst before my older sister found me and dragged me home by the ear. fond memories

Echo, you're a disgrace but also somehow still the only sane one here

Do datapads just not need to ever charge in Star Wars??

Omega: oh yah I have a sister did you know Echo: okay, we don't have time to unpack all that

Where is the heck is Phee? Is she just...off dismembering Cid or something?

Crosshair: "I know a place" Hunter: "YOU'RE NOT TELLING US EVERYTHING ABOUT IT" Crosshair: "I ALREADY KILLED EVERYTHING DANGEROUS HERE what do you WANT FROM ME" *Dune 2021 erupts from underneath the base* Crosshair: .... Crosshair: huh. guess Mayday forgot to mention that particular natural feature. My bad y'all

GUYS. WE NEVER TURN OFF THE MYSTERIOUS PERIMETER SENSORS. IDIOTS KNOW THIS. DID WE LEARN NOTHING FROM THE KRYKNA INCIDENTS I, II, and III

Crosshair looking at Batcher: ah, the new and improved Hunter. You're my favorite. We'll try to save you Hunter but if it gets too inconvenient I'll be over there taking a nap Hunter, standing right there: hey

Congratulations Batcher I guess you're his service animal now

Hunter: *sneaks up behind Crosshair stacking random regs' helmets one by one on a crate* Hunter: *considering Crosshair's past track record with regs, the Empire, and loyalty* so, like...did he kill these guys, or...? Hunter:...do I want to know? Hunter: *does a 180* NOPE

Hunter: "dID yOu tHiNK we wErE juST gOinG tO tAkE yOu bAcK witHoUT aSkIng aNy quEsTiONs???" Hunter, you beloved moron. You DID just take him back without asking any questions. To your super secret summer home no less. And let him spend two whole weeks chilling on a beach before it occurred to you to do anything other than stare at him with complete lack of subtlety from the top of a cliff

Why were you stalking him from the top of a cliff Hunter

Crosshair, he was silhouetted against the sun like 100 feet away with an almost seven foot dude right next to him. There was no hiding going on here. At all. Detecting him is not a super sniper skill. If you HADN'T seen that, we'd have a problem

Crosshair: hey yeah guys so this is clearly a Very Important Place to me that I will proceed to tell you Absolutely Nothing About. BTW don't land there Echo, there's a corpse in the middle of the landing pad somewhere. Possibly two if they never bothered picking up Nolan Echo:... Echo, 1000000% done with this Batch's drama: at least there's no blood this time

"I've made mistakes" AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *smash cuts to using flamethrower on civilians* *shooting Wrecker* *"aim for the kid!"* *nearly dropping Tech off an ion engine* *trying to burn them all alive in an ion engine* *shooting at them* *kidnapping Hunter* *kidnapping all of them* *getting them trapped on Kamino while it SINKS* *shooting pretty much everybody at some point* *plan 88 but no context!* AHAHAHAHAHAHA this is my new favorite line. Hunter should get him a T-shirt that says that to replace that awful hip pocket thing

Wrecker getting genre-aware

Omega: "I told you to TALK to him not ARGUE with him" Crosshair, sulkily: "He STARTED IT" EDIT: 23. IF I SEE ONE MORE ICE VULTURE IN THIS HOUSE

[conretewings]

Better Left Said (Vander x OC) NSF/W

-Oh hi yes *nervous laugh* Enjoy this random and utterly self-indulgent idea. Featuring younger (early twenties) versions of Vander, Silco and Benzo in the days of building The Lanes as well as Rosemary, who works at both her family's repair business and as a singer at bars and clubs. Lots of banter and spicy flirting. EDIT: Header image by the wonderful @thefutonhermit

-Vander x OC. Alcohol and smoking. Very suggestive content. 18+ only please

"What?" asked Silco, leaning closer to Vander, "I don't remember anything about chips."

Vander pinched his brow and sighed, "No, I said 'shipments'-maybe this wasn't the best place to meet up today..."

Friday nights were always crowded and noisy at Iron Bear, one of the group's favorite taverns. The owners knew them and knew their...illicit business, but didn't care so long as they brought in more coin than trouble. Vander, Silco and Benzo had their usual corner booth, paperwork spread on the table and discreetly arranged so no prying eyes could see the contents. Trying to build a black market empire was a complicated and dangerous affair, but they knew if successful it would be a boon to the Undercity's people...and a critical step toward their ultimate goal.

Benzo cleared his throat, reached forward and ran his finger over a list of figures on one of the pages, "Everythin' looks ta be in order. Those crates of gunpowder and-"

A loud whooping and whistling interrupted him as the three young men quickly hid their papers a little more, then looked up to see the object of the hullabaloo; a woman picked through the crowd, dark chocolate curls bouncing-along with other assets-her denim jacket doing little to cover her low-cut silken green dress that caught the light and cast an almost ethereal halo around her.

Vander found himself staring, an increasingly all-too-familiar warmth blooming in his chest and time seemed to slow as he watched her, all radiant smiles and quick, graceful movements, her curves flawlessly framed by her dress. They'd been friends for a few years now, but more and more he'd been finding himself looking at her through a different lens, one that made his heartbeat kick up a notch or sometimes embarrassingly, other parts very excited.

He gaped stupidly, mouth hung slightly open and Benzo smugly grinned at his friend, who composed himself upon noticing with a growled 'shut it'.

The woman rolled her eyes playfully or laughed with various patrons as she weaved her way to their table and plopped herself next to Benzo with a dramatic exhale, threading her arms through one of his.

"Wooo! I made it!" she beamed at them, hazel eyes bright and full of mischief as she smoothly purred in a well practiced, upper-class lilt, "Hello gentlemen. What must a lady do to get a drink around here?"

"Go order one." replied Silco with a smirk, taking a swig of his own ale.

"Hey Rosemary!" Vander and Benzo greeted in unison, grinning as she stood and rounded the table to lean over and hug Silco around his shoulders from behind.

"Oh, don't be like that Silcy I've missed you lads!" she pouted with mock hurt, snorting as he twisted to glower at her and push her off.

"I told you not to call me that!" he hissed, and this time she raised her hands, "Sorry, sorry. Well now we're even for that comment a moment ago eh?"

Silco shot her a sour look but quickly smiled again and gave an affirming tip of the head. Vander waved a hand to one of the staff, who nodded and went to grab another round, then turned to her as she sat back down, working to ignore the ample bit of visible cleavage, "Haven't seen ya in what? Almost a week? What you been up to Rosie?"

"Rumor has it you been gettin' pretty popular topside." added Benzo.

Rosemary ran a hand through her hair, the bubbly energy starting to fade along with the more 'upper crust' accent she'd been using, "Really now? Well, we got two trucks 'n several smaller projects at the shop ta finish, I've got two-wait...no, bloody hell three gigs comin' up. Tellin' ya the coin is fantastic but they run me ragged sometimes."

"Speaking of, I assume you came straight here from a performance? I couldn't help but notice the dress. Very stylish." Silco cut in.

"Thank ya! Aye, this lil' jazz club along the docks," Rosemary nodded, then bit her lip, "It ain't too much is it?"

"No." all three quickly replied, Vander's face flushed red as his eyes darted away awkwardly and she couldn't hold her brief, coy grin; so she wasn't imagining things. Not being blind nor stupid, she'd been noticing more lately how his gaze would linger on her when he thought she wasn't paying attention, or how he'd react to things she said, those silver-blue eyes holding hints of things that made her core burn and coil in delicious torment. She'd be lying if she denied the thought of being with him-in one form or another-hadn't crossed her daydreams more than once. Maybe tonight she'd work up the courage to say something.

Her gaze flicked to the papers in front of them and lowered her voice, "But enough 'bout me. How's things 'ere?"

There was a pause and muttered thanks as the waiter dropped off their drinks, then Silco leaned in, a cue for them all to follow suit and cracked a wicked smile, bottle-green eyes sharp as the knife he kept on his hip, "Plans have been going splendidly. I feel it's finally safe to say we're making headway..."

-"Come ooooon boys one more round!" cried Rosemary joyfully, her face flushed and beer tankard almost sloshing onto the table as she raised it too fast.

"Oi watch it don't be wastin'-hic-good ale!" Vander huffed with a laugh and a hiccup while Silco rolled his eyes and took a more measured sip of his whiskey as the pair continued to banter.

It was a couple hours-and drinks-later and the group had hashed out a plan for the next few weeks, Rosemary volunteering as always to glean what information she could regarding the movement of goods in and out of Piltover from her more loose-lipped audience members. Business being wrapped up as much as possible for the moment, the group concluded since it was the weekend, a bit of inebriation, chatter and comradery were in order.

"Good ale?! If I wanted that I'd 'a gone somewheres else than this leaky bucket! Only reason I come 'ere is for you lot!" she snickered.

"It's not bad!" Benzo knocked back some more then licked his lips thoughtfully with a shrug, "Ah've had worse."

"Oh I see how it is!" Vander huffed, crossing his thick arms dramatically, "She's gettin' too good for us!"

"Oh Van!" she reached across Benzo and patted his shoulder, giving him a wink and a very good show of that cleavage, "You'll always be perfect for me!"

Vander paused, mouth half open with the smart rebuttal he'd had catching in his throat; something deeply sincere in her green-flecked eyes and gentle smile shot right through to his heart. There it was again, that sweetly torturous heat rising to his chest and spreading outward, and he fumbled for a response until he gave up and simply gave a short bark of a laugh and eyeroll, "Yeah yeah..."

An employee, apparently having overheard Rosemary's outburst and all too happy to oblige, appeared with four more mugs, three of the four being snatched up almost as soon as they were set down. A few moments later a man approached and Benzo did a double-take.

"Rocky! What can I do ya for mate?" he asked cheerfully.

"'Ey Benzo! Wanted to thank you for helpin' me get ahold of the thing I needed. You uh, got any more deals?"

"I might, I might. Why don't we step out for a sec? Hard to hear in here," Benzo stood, Rosemary having to scoot out to let him by, and pointed sternly at his drink as he turned to go, "This better be full when I get back!"

Vander flipped him off with a sarcastic smile and Rosemary gasped in mock disbelief, Silco raising an eyebrow and smirking before going back to the paper in front of him. Rosemary then gulped a bit of her ale, head already swimming pleasantly and body fuzzy-when she realized abruptly there was now nothing between her and Vander but air. She glanced sideways at him, he and Silco studying a couple of the pages and mumbling inaudibly between each other.

She watched him slyly, admiring his handsome face, the scruff growing into a short beard, how his eyebrows would knit together adorably whenever he was concentrating, those gorgeous steel-blue eyes she could lost in, his thick brown hair that just begged for her fingers to run through it, those lips that looked so soft and kissable, how those large hands could hold her so snugly and-shit. She felt the heat rise up her neck to her face; she really was in it.

Vander must have sensed her eyes on him, as he glanced in her direction briefly, doing a brief double-take, brow wrinkled lightly in curiosity.

Then he smiled softly, that goddamn, devilishly charming smile, and any semblance or thread of control or doubt holding her back crumbled.

"Can I help ya?" he pondered, sliding himself closer to her.

"Hmmm..." she mirrored him, moving nearer, "I can think of a few things."

"You gonna tell me 'bout them?" he teased, taking a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and blowing a wisp skyward before turning to face her more.

Rosemary's heart skipped; that half-lidded, inviting smile gave her both pause and courage. Alright then, she mused after only a moment's hesitancy, if he wants to play this game we'll play.

Resting her chin on her fingers and head tilted upward slightly, she gracefully crossed one leg over the other so her foot was against his leg, "Oh Van...I can see right through you. You're all cool 'n suave when ya wannna be but right now you're runnin' quite hot..."

He froze for a second, not only for how her foot was gingerly rubbing against his calf, this simple contact causing more internal havoc than it had any right to, but also from the warmth and-dare he think-desire pooled in her beautiful eyes. They'd coyly 'flirted' many a time before, making a game of tossing sly double entendres and comments to each other, and he had to admit there were times, especially lately, he wouldn't have minded it going further, but abruptly faced with what he realized was her taking that leap caught him off guard.

"A-ah," Vander stammered, the alcohol coursing through his veins doing him no favors, "Am I n-now? Dunno about that. In fact seems you're the one makin' bedroom eyes at me."

She scooted herself to press right up to him now, laying a hand across his wrist and stroking a line up the stiffened muscle of his arm. It was at this moment he realized other things beginning to stiffen and he swore silently.

Finishing the brief, hushed discussion he'd been having with one of his contacts, Silco turned back around-and wrinkled his nose upon realizing they were shamelessly flirting. He grimaced briefly before going back to the paperwork he'd still been studying and resolving to ignore them. If they wanted to flirt and act like horny teens that was their business. He only prayed not to overhear anything too personal.

Forcing down her trembles, buzzed and high off the adrenaline Rosemary tilted her head , "Know what I think? I think deep down, you'd like it to be more 'n just my eyes. I think, you'd like...all of me in the bedroom..." she licked her thumb suggestively and to his continued stunned surprise, wiped a stray smudge of mud off his cheek, "Dirty man..."

His hand was clenched tightly on the table, heart pounding and he definitely had a raging boner now. He swallowed thickly, scrambling for a response that wasn't an incoherent ramble or direct confirmation of her...irritatingly spot-on comments. Another thought creeped into his lust and beer addled mind; was this just the ale talking? Part of the game? Or did she genuinely want him how, as she deduced, he secretly longed for her?

"So ya th-think ya know what's goin' on in my head eh?" he managed, hoping he didn't sound too worked up and smushing out his cigarette with shaking hands.

She winked, "You're not hidin' it too well love. At this point it's a matter of knowin'. Like how I know you're enjoyin' this. Or how you're definitely picturing what I look like under this dress..." she leaned in to purr in his ear, "And I know it'll be my name on your lips when you're strokin' yourself later-"

At this Vander suddenly stood, so fast and forcibly he bumped the table hard enough to wobble it, their drinks nearly spilling. Before anyone could ask he sputtered out, "Gotta piss sorry-" and stalked away, dodging other people and accidentally bumping some in his haste, including Benzo who tried and failed to ask what the rush was.

Benzo returned to the table and sat heavily, jerking his thumb behind him, "Anyone know what that big lug's issue is?"

Threading his fingers together, Silco cocked an eyebrow and hummed, "Perhaps Rosemary would care to give some insight..."

She, in turn, had slid down somewhat in her seat, as if she could hide from the embarrassment and her scarlet face; oh dear. Perhaps that had been too much.

"Fuck." she mumbled.

-It was a few days later, and murky greenish neon light from outside seeped through the thin curtains of Vander's room, casting a perpetual, dim glow. The numerous noises of the city drowned out the low groaning pants of it's namesake occupant, one hand thrown over his eyes as the other pumped his cock. Of all the sinful thoughts swirling in his mind, one kept snapping back into clearer focus; one particular woman straddling him, rocking her hips in rhythm with his as his hands clutched her ass, her chest, wherever he could reach. He bit his lip hard, imagining her flushed cheeks and mouth half-open as she blissfully rode his dick, moaning his name as she reached climax at the same time he did-

"R-Rosemary! Rosie...oh-!" he stuttered out, gripping the sheet and back arching as he came. He lay there, drifting down like a leaf on a gentle breeze, breath ragged but calming, absorbed in the high before he remembered what she'd said.

"...Fuck..." he grumbled.

@vander-affectionate @barbersjoy @immortalbumblebee @catgoblinchelly

@archerofthemists @prwincessqwin-blog @band--psycho

[moremysteriesthantragedies]

To Sully a Wedding Dress

Masterlist | Next

Trigger Warnings for unreality/dream logic, violent imagery, blood/gore, symbolism connecting to rape/physical abuse, twisted womanhood, and internalized guilt around sensuality.

When Florence opened his eyes, he was greeted by nothing but dark. All around there was just darkness, unable to see the walls of the room, making it look endless.

Florence could feel his own body, in a loose sense, shivering from the chill circulating the spot in which he was standing. There was an underground ambience, similar to that of a basement, rumbling in his ears, making the sound of his own breathing sound quiet in comparison. He could hear it become a fog in the air, arms squeezing tightly around himself. 

Except, until there was the sudden flickering of a light, hanging right above Florence. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden shift, making everything a dizzying blur for a moment or two, maybe more. The light took a while to turn on fully, flicking with sparks, before finally lighting. It had a weak, fluorescent white glow. 

In an instant, the hum went silent, and the room returned to a normal temperature. Florence’s ears were filled with the sound of his own breathing, irregular, quiet. His arms, pale and begging for sun, slowly fell down to his sides as he looked around.

Looking around, the light had barely made a dent in the dark, simply adding a gentle, light gray glow to the area around it. Though, it had at least made Florence confident that nothing was in here, batting the oddly elegant chain it was hanging from so it would swing around. Florence followed its glow, seeing nothing but black with the hint of a few grey objects here and there. 

Am I in…a storage closet? Florence wondered, thinking that was the only explanation for the seemingly random and wide range of objects present. Dressers, a bedframe, crates, and a few objects hung up on the wall, such as a mask and hat that kept giving Florence the chills. 

Florence’s eyes stopped, slowly creeping back to that object he’d seen in the dark. The mask, as still as stone, a fedora hung just above, which Florence assumed had covered its eyes as it stared out at him with only its lips and a nose. Except, the fedora wasn’t pushed forward enough, indicating that perhaps it had been a mannequin instead. 

Florence took a step forward, feeling something tickle along his ankles as he did so. His shoes made an unfamiliar, sharp click along the nondescript floor. The figure became more clear to him the closer he came, having too much muscle and mass to be a mannequin, feeling as if they towered over him despite only being 5 inches taller.

In front of him stood a man, around 6 feet tall with combed back, dark hair, a sharp nose, and uncomfortably attractive, well-kept bowtie lips. He dressed professionally, matching his mostly unmoving features. Florence wasn’t even certain if he could see him, wasn’t certain if he was alive in any capacity. Florence’s calloused though delicate hands rose, reaching for the man’s shoulders before pulling them back. Band-aids were wrapped around a few of Florence’s fingers, though he couldn’t remember anything up until this point.

The life-like doll looked just like…wait, was it just Florence’s imagination or had his head just moved? It did it again!

The doll’s head had shifted slowly down, implying an eyeline Florence could not see, hat overshadowing the top of his face. Florence followed where his head had tilted, looking down at himself for the first time since he had awoken. 

He had been placed in a white dress, perfectly feminine and modest, with all those cute frills and accenting bows. It had three layers of frills, the top, the middle, and bottom, with ruffled sleeves going all the way across his elbows. The design was far too elaborate to just be a dress for a casual affair, skirt billowing around his legs, and… 

...why were there…

...accents of…

...red?

Following the crimson seeping through the unprotected fabric, he recognized the dress in an instant. The holes on its sides made it unmistakable, carrying the liquid to lower heights. His Mary Jane shoes served as their final resting place, and, he could feel long hair still pulled into a fresh bun. His stomach metaphorically ripped itself out before being replaced in a reverted state.

Florence started rushing back, flailing in circles as he screamed like a banshee. His fingernails scraped along the smooth fabric, attempting to rip it off, or just rip it in general. 

"No, no, no. Get it off. GET IT OFF ME! No!"

Florence kept repeating this over and over again, wrestling with a skirt that would not undo itself from the whole. It became redder and redder by the minute, waist twinging as more blood fell down his legs. It was a miracle he didn’t trip over himself from the ferocity of his actions, limbs going every which way.

Florence was so preoccupied with this that he didn’t notice when the “doll” stepped out of his display area, standing beneath the light that Florence had wandered from. 

"Florence," A familiar, authoritative voice called and Florence froze.

Florence’s grip remained on his dress, eyes widening at the once dead, now alive man standing just in front of him. 

Listening to it, the voice was more static filled, and he was much grayer looking than Florence had remembered. He remained still, not breathing and yet, the life was evident in his face.

Florence could feel his own breathing slow, pupils dilating. 

"Why don't you just relax? After all, there's nothing to be upset about, is there," the man asked, voice coming out like rain. 

His mouth moved to speak and yet the words felt disconnected from the motion. They were always too slow, or too loud to fit into those subtle movements. 

Florence had calmed down enough to remember where his pocket knife would be stored, grabbing it out from the strap of his stocking and pointing it toward the mysterious stranger.

"That remains to be seen. Just what exactly are you? I know you're not Max. You might look like him but he...he's not like this!" he said, causing the man to laugh.

Yet, his laughs were humorless, lips refusing to move more than what was required for a light smirk or a smile.

"I've never seen you this angry before. You don't sound very certain either."

The man began to walk over, the collar of his pea coat waving behind him and making him blend in with the murky scenery. 

Florence put his hand up, about to tell the man to stop but...wait, what was he going to say? It was on the tip of his tongue yet, no matter how hard he tried to find the words, his mouth wouldn’t budge, just gapping. The only thing that filled his head was static. Quiet, crackling, soothing.

The man approached Florence, taking Florence’s hand and giving it a tender kiss before kneeling down in front of him. He smiled up at Florence who was just stuck staring into that eyeless void.

Florence’s heart began to pound once more when the man casually lifted up his skirt. However, Florence soon realized why as the man examined the scratch marks on his sides. And, also, that he’d worn pants underneath, though the man had to lower them some to see.

“Let me help you, dear,” he said, and Florence’s breathing slowed even more, sniffling.

“Okay.”

His eyes widened, unsure where that response came from when his head felt so fuzzy. His confusion only increased when the man attended to his wounds. 

The man’s touch felt...like silk. Translucent, soft silk, blowing gently in the wind and causing his canvas of skin to be cooled. But it wasn't an unpleasant coldness, warming up from Florence's own, balmy skin that’d become heated in his panic. 

It was as if this man, this thing was truly nothing more than a suggestable piece of fabric. The cloth would wrap around your body, so easily and so harmlessly moving with your joints. An outfit couldn’t hurt, so why not try it on, letting it squeeze tighter, and tighter, and tighter until all circulation was cut off? But, it was so soft, so smooth, that the closeness would feel like a blessing in disguise.

Florence's body froze at the sudden visuals and thoughts, only now realizing they had overcome him. As his vision cleared, he looked back at the man with a flutter of anxiety rising in his chest. The man hadn’t done anything, having successfully cleaned up the blood, and finishing up by applying bandages onto the cleaned cuts. But still. 

As the sensations came back to Florence's body, he realized his hands had gripped onto the man's shoulders, quickly pulling away. This was an action he soon regretted as he realized the squeeze had helped with the pain.

The man’s face or, what Florence could see of it, hadn't reacted to the touch. Florence slowly returned his hands when it seemed the man wouldn't notice. The band-aids showed some resistance against his coat, though they remained in place.

"You're being so brave," the man mused, in spite of Florence's actions.

Yet, even so, Florence supposed he had no reason to worry. The man had not moved to hurt him in all this time, and Florence's wounds were about to be mended, doing his best to ignore the sting. If the man had really wanted to do something, he would have struck when Florence was at his most vulnerable, most likely not even letting Florence know of his presence beforehand. Unless…he was enough of a sadist to…no. 

He shouldn’t think about those things right now. He was being fixed, that’s all that mattered. He couldn’t let the pain drive him crazy, fighting back the urge to grab onto his sides at their constant,  sharp pang. 

He stuck his head up, putting on a brave face and, eventually, it worked.

Once the man was finished, he returned Florence’s skirt to its place around his ankles, doing so carefully to make sure no parts of it remained hitched. Once it was all comfortably draped down, bloodstain remaining and bright against the milky palette, the man pulled away with a smile.

"Does it...still hurt," he asked, not pausing out of hesitation but in an unnervingly relaxed manner.

His voice made Florence feel that fuzziness again. Or, had the blood just had more of an effect on him than he initially thought?

"A-a little."

Florence, now with all his senses soon returning, slowly processed what had just happened. Then, his eyes took in the figure, a shadow all along the top of his face, remaining as peaceful as a windless night. Florence stumbled back. The sound of his steps weren’t as sharp as they once were, soaked beneath him. 

"It's quite alright, dear. You don't have to be afraid. That dress can't hurt you. After all, it's such a comfortable, soft fabric. Is it not?"

Florence gripped onto his skirt, only to find that the fabric had somehow become less coarse underneath his fingers. His eyes narrowed in understanding, muscles tensing.

"S-stop that!" Florence said, continuing to step back and the man made no attempts to follow him.

He just stood there with that smile of his, hands folding behind his back.

“I am merely stating the truth. You feel safe in that dress. You’re so wrapped up in all of its comfortable coils, covering you entirely as if it were a blanket. It’s kept you safe all this time, it even went so far as to be injured for your sake. So, what reason do you have to fear it?”

The man hugged onto himself as if to mime the sensation, hands making a graceful arc as his fingers thinly slid along his sleeves. 

Florence slowly came to a halt, arms wrapping around himself, and fingers beginning to play with the sleeves of his dress. It felt as if it was hugging his body more in a sort of warm embrace. The man took a gradual step forward. 

“It's a shame, isn't it? To sully a wedding dress, especially on purpose. I wonder what that says about your marriage to such a person?”

A couple more steps. 

"Tell me, do you still dream of marriage, Florence? Of your special day, with someone sweet, perhaps? Or, do you only see wedding bells in your nightmares nowadays?"

And a few more.

"I don't know what you're saying," Florence said, tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

Another step and he was right in front of Florence, leaning in to stare into Florence’s face. His eyes remained unseen, but Florence could just feel it. God, he really looked so much like him, the man waiting for Florence to finish inspecting his features before speaking.

"Do you ever dream of marrying me?"

Florence’s cheeks became heated. 

"W-what," Florence stared at him before shaking his head, "Of course not! I mean Max is...he's sweet, and lovely, and I care about him a lot. But I'll never put myself through that again. I know better than that now."

Florence brushed at his tears and the man tilted his head.

"Hmmm, that doesn't sound right, does it? And that again is awfully vague," he said, tapping his chin teasingly, "In truth, you dream about me quite often. Almost every night, when you do dream, that is. We do many things together. Surely it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to propose that one of those things might be a marriage?”

Florence’s hands gripped harder onto his sleeves, falling silent. The man’s smile faintly opened, standing up straight. 

“It's only natural, we see each other every day. And yet, you hide from that, you deny your dreams. All those little desires so wonderfully gift packaged in bottle-sized snippets for you to enjoy."

He tilted his head, smile widening and hand gesturing towards Florence.

"Did you think it'd never catch up to you, dear?" 

In response, Florence had just stared. He’d woken up with a start shortly after.

[chaoticgeminate]

The Saltwater Room (ii)

Summary: You’ve been a drifter across the sea for as long as you can remember, unwilling to stop and unwilling to settle, nervous to put down roots and trust others like you’d been taught growing up. Marcus grew up settled and happy, heartbreak led him to the sea and fate put him in your path.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (Thar be smut ahead, it was supposed to just be a kiss 😅)

Notes and Warnings: AU based on the video game Raft, will feature some locations and themes of the game. This is NOT how you survive if you’re stranded at sea, please don’t use this as practical.

Series Masterlist | Year of Video Game AUs Masterlist

and you were looking so cold (4k)

Rain ripped you out of a pleasant sleep, the cool fresh water sorely needed, and you heard Marcus whoop happily as he hurried to get extra jugs to fill up. It had been nearly a month since he woke up and your first meeting and his bruises were finally gone, his eyes were bright and his smiles were so much wider, and with each day you found that he just oozed sincerity. He was more than capable at fishing and making ropes, at monitoring the water purifiers and the grills, and you were the one slowly transforming the little raft into something better.

Having someone around again felt good, even though you were torn between wanting him to stay and wanting to hide away.

With his help there were full half walls around the edges that would help prevent you both from going over in the event of a storm, the base foundation expanded significantly to give you both more room, and your palm frond tents and beds were upgraded to a hammock each and actual wooden walls. Finding the scrap to make the nails you’d needed had been a pain but the end result was worth it, you’d modeled it after a boat you’d seen in an old journal with a cabin area near the back center and the front angled in at a point. The sail now was at the center of the deck, for easy access, and it was a much better vessel as a whole.

But this rainfall tested, and proved, your ability to build because the indoor area wasn’t leaking one bit and you couldn’t be more proud of yourself in that moment. Marcus’ eyes danced as he watched the jugs of water slowly fill, extra plastic scraps turned into funnels and long flat trays were angled to get as much rain into them as possible as the two of you stood in the cool shade of the clouds and basked in mercy from the heat and burning sun. You couldn’t help but spin in an excited circle, throwing your head back and holding your mouth open without a care for what Marcus might have thought.

Both of you had plastic cups, which were sitting out gathering water too, and the rain kept falling and falling even as you both worked to use the waves to your advantage while the water was being stored. Your plastic hooks were thrown at wads of palm fronds and seaweed, at floating plants tangled in rope and fabric, at floating containers and even barrels or crates or excess supplies if you got lucky. Marcus had even fashioned a row of nets that were designed to catch anything you missed and went on the front of the raft. By twilight your water stores were filled, the two of you were far from dehydrated, and even your pineapple plants were doing so much better.

Marcus sat back against the door inside the cabin, the two of you significantly chilled with the rain and clouds lasting all afternoon, and when you shivered he opened his arms for you. While you were certainly still a little suspicious of him, since you’d only met him a month ago, you were willing to trust him and crawled over to cuddle into his side. His heart was beating fast against your ear as you leaned your head to rest slightly against his pectoral rather than his shoulder, his arm draped over you, and when you slid your leg to tangle with his you could hear the soft hitch of his breath.

But he didn’t make a move, his fingers tapped and traced random swirls against your chilled skin, he never once made you feel uncomfortable and when you tipped your head up to look at him Marcus was already looking at you. Your lips parted and you thought he was leaning in, you hoped he was, but instead he turned his face away even though you could see the hint of color on his cheeks in the dying light of the sunset and the torch he’d set up to bring some warmth to the small cabin.

Instead of pushing for it you pulled away, not wanting to overstep, and Marcus’ soft sound was almost disappointed. In you or himself you weren’t ever going to know, you had no intention to ask.

He stayed with you like that until the moon was out, it was still raining so neither of you were willing to leave the cabin and work through the night like usual, and finally you got up and meandered to your hammock. Marcus glanced at you and away when you grabbed the long scrap of fabric that served as your towel, deciding to dry off since you’d managed to very poorly tie together some fabric scraps into a passable night shirt, and while you wanted to be hurt that you weren’t his type -since he was making it obvious- you just couldn’t be given how much he was showing his respect for you by not being a creep.

Your wet clothes landed with a soft plop on the floor and you shivered as you wrapped your body in the large sheet-sized piece of fabric, letting the water on your skin transfer to the cloth, and Marcus had stripped down too while your back was turned. You watched him reach out from the folds of fabric to grab all of the wet clothes in a bundled grip, his eyes catching yours in the torchlight, and you flustered under the heat and want in those cocoa pools. But he looked away and you did the same, choosing to begin patting yourself down so that you could get dressed faster.

“Thanks for hanging those up.” The garments were draped over a wood support beam you had built into the cabin for cases just like this, after he’d rung them out into the plastic bucket meant for water that wasn’t drinkable. Marcus hummed softly and you couldn’t help but glance at him, the sheet was very heavily wrapped around his waist so his arms were free, and the muscles of his back flexed with each motion. You admired the softness in his physique, he wasn’t nearly as thin as he had been when you found him now that the two of you were able to catch plenty of fish and even had a planter box of potatoes, your combined diet was much more nutrient rich.

It was a good look for him, the softened edges and plush parts that only made him look sturdier, and you traced the broadness of his shoulders with your eyes before looking away when he went to turn around. This uneasy dance of not knowing what he wanted made you feel off balance, he pulled away but was showing signs that maybe he did want you?

“Marcus-“

His mouth silenced you, in the time you’d taken to finally just bring it up he’d crossed the cabin and pulled you into him, and even though most of you was very much enrobed in fabric you could feel the heat of him through the material as your hands pressed to his pectorals and your mouth parted for his. He breathed your name like a prayer against your open mouth, bare hands coming up to hold your cheeks like you were delicate, and you melted for him. The uncertainty didn’t matter as he kissed you, as his lips moved so gently against yours, as your tongues brushed and traced the shape of each other’s mouths; you didn’t care if you never breathed again now that you had him like this.

Marcus pulled away first and you chased his mouth, a soft whine escaping you, but he held you back with his hands to gently rub his nose against yours.

“I want you but I need you to know that I can’t just… be casual about this. You saved me life, you let me stay and… you’re incredible-“

“Stop talking.” Your voice soft but he reacted like you’d screamed, a silence lingering between you for only a split second, and you shrugged off the fabric covering you before grabbing the bundle of fabric at his waist and pulling him down to the floor with you. The last of the barriers between you was piled under his back as you straddled him, hands flat on the floor on either side of his head, his eyes blown wide as the torchlight and the sound of the rain created an intimate and cozy atmosphere.

“Don’t make me regret giving you my heart Marcus, or my trust.” You knew your tone was a bit on the sharp side but you’d been hurt before, you’d been betrayed before, and something about this man broke down your walls and made you want to trust him. You watched his eyes for any sign of doubt, any sign that you were wrong, but instead those dark pools softened and he reached up to hold your hips.

“Never, I’ll keep it safe.” He blinked slow, affection on his face as clear as the stars in the night sky, before he was rolling the pair of you and trapping you under him. With every kiss he pressed into your skin he made a promise; a promise to help you with anything you might need when he kissed each fingertip, a promise to be there when you needed him as he kissed the spot right behind your ear, a promise to help carry the weight of keeping both of you alive when he reached the curve of your breast, and a promise to be the one constant in your life as he kissed his way down your abdomen.

Each touch of his lips was torment, it was the kind of kiss that came with leaving a wet place or the imprint of his teeth, the kind that made your spine arch and sent chills through you. His thigh had wedged between yours, when he’d begun his delicious torment and one of his hands on your hip had encouraged you to grind against him, the friction and warmth of his skin started to feel cool as your body began to heat up, and your breathy call of his name brought his mouth to yours as he hiked your leg higher over his hip and rolled against you. The touch of his hard shaft against your folds made you keen, he swallowed the sound eagerly but didn’t angle himself to slide into you like you wanted, instead he teased you by just putting the right pressure against your clit and letting your wetness coat the underside of his cock.

“Please- Marcus stop teasing-“ You were cut off by the hand that was cupping the back of your head, since you were on the floor, angling you to tilt your jaw up so he could go after the spot on your neck that made your back arch higher. You tried to grab at his arms and waist, at his cute little butt, to get him where you wanted him but Marcus grunted and pulled back. You were about to protest, to apologize or beg, but he simply grabbed the back of your knees and lifted them onto his shoulders; reflexively you yelped but he groaned so loud over the sound at the sight of your pubic hair wet with slick.

“I’ll stop teasing, but we’re doing things my way.” He winked at you over your mound and the first touch of his tongue sent sharp pleasure down your spine, it had been so long that it felt like it was new all over again, and you fisted the fabric beneath you as he practically hugged your hips and thighs to keep you in place. The angle was a bit awkward, you were reclined slightly on the back of your shoulders, but none of that mattered as Marcus’ tongue slid through your silken folds eagerly.

“Fuck, Marcus higher-“ He hummed against you and his nose nudged gently where his tongue didn’t touch, it was enough to make your breathing erratic, because this wasn’t just getting you ready for him. He was tasting, feeling, and exploring you with his mouth.

“Gotta- need you to put a little more pressure-“ You were close already, eager for the sweet release he promised, and Marcus delivered without you needing to beg. He circled your clit with his tongue before carefully sucking the sensitive bundle, stars exploded behind your eyes, and you could hear him praising you just barely over the pounding of your heart. You reached for him and he lowered your legs gently, crawling up your body into your arms, and he put nearly all of his weight on you but you didn’t care. Hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him, and you didn’t care that the taste of you was on his tongue as he rocked his hips against yours.

“So good for me, so good to me, angel.” His praise against your lips made you loop your legs around him, eager and wanting and ready, and this time he didn’t make you wait. He was big, and it had been a while, so the stretch still burned but it was a damn good burn; the kind that made your moan throaty and deep and had you somewhere between pleasure and pain. He was panting against the side of your neck, hips rocking back slowly before pressing deeper, and you knew your grip was tight but the slow push of him had your body locked down.

“Oh-“ The inhale you attempted to take turned into a choked moan when Marcus bottomed out, bracing his knees on the pile of fabric even though his thighs were shaking, and you both just stayed there breathing for a moment as the heat between you spiked. Only when your grip on his hair loosened enough that he could pull his head away, only when you clenched around him trying to make him move, did Marcus surrender to it. The push and pull of his hips matched the ebb and flow of the tide, one of his hands moving from its place on the floor to grab your hip and angle you, and the other caught yours as you went to grab his bicep; fingers entwined as he held that hand onto the floor and pressed his forehead to yours.

The torch was burning out still, the light dim, and the rain was almost muted with the wet sounds of your bodies; in the low light you could still see the reverence, the affection, in his eyes. It would have scared you, it should have scared you, but that fragile little spark of hope in your chest burned bright. Hope that this time would be different, that this man would keep his word, and hope that he would stay. His eyes never left yours and you didn’t dare look away, lashes fluttering when he would roll his hips a certain way or if he would grind against you, but you never lost eye contact with him.

“Beautiful, perfect, incredible girl. Taking me so good, just like I knew you would.” His praise had you clenching around him, had you using your legs for leverage to press him as deep as you could and to roll your hips to meet his thrusts, and Marcus’ praise stuttered. He raised your hips and you keened when he hit somewhere in your body that sent the sharp pleasure from your core to your entire body, his name a sharp mewl, and your reaction spurred him on; hitting that place over and over until you were trembling and your walls clamped down on his cock as you came, four rapid thrusts had him pulling out of you and painting your abdomen and breasts with his spend.

You felt debauched in the best way, his nose brushing yours sweetly, and he used the fabric beneath you to wipe the tears from your eyes.

“That bad?” He was joking, you knew, but there was very real vulnerability behind it.

“No, that was incredible Marcus. I never knew it could be that good.” His lips lifted into a smile and he put most of his weight on you, uncaring about the mess now pressed between you, and his teeth nipped your ear gently as he nuzzled the side of your face. His beard was starting to grow out again but your razor was dulled, there was some spare scrap metal that you could probably sharpen into a new blade if you were patient enough though.

“You think I’m done with you?” His voice pitched low, deeper and bassier in a way that made your skin pebble with gooseflesh, and you let him roll you so that you were straddling him now. He was soft now but you didn’t mind learning what made him feel good, what would make him hard and wanting, what would make him leak precum and make a mess of himself. His sly look was so soft that you couldn’t the way you leaned down to kiss him and Marcus chuckled into it when your shaking thighs led to you losing your balance. But he didn’t tease you, not at all, he simply used those big hands of his to hold your hips and watch your hand drag a path through the cum now smeared across his own torso.

You licked your fingertips, just wanting a taste, and his soft groan caused you to bite your lower lip in a sly look knowing that you could have fun with this.

Waking up late afternoon was so normal that you could have mistaken it for any usual day, your thighs still burned a little and your body was pleasantly sore though and acted as a reminder and a pleasant one at that, but you and Marcus had wound up repositioning your hammocks so they were right beside each other and fell asleep holding hands. Even now he was still resting, the light of the sun shining through the minuscule gaps  in the palm fronds that acted like blinds on the window frame of the cabin, and you slipped out of your resting place carefully to get started on the wash. Your clothes were still damp so you kept your night shirt on, you’d have to try and fashion some sort of sewing needle or maybe make something with more ties, but Marcus’ denim shorts were still very visibly wet. His cardigan wasn’t as bad though and you hummed before moving those outside into the sun, checking the horizon for signs of other sea drifters or even islands.

It was endless blue and debris, for as far as you could see, but that was perfectly fine. You began the chore of checking the collection nets, pulling whatever was in them up onto the deck to sort through, and when a pair of large hands cupped your bare ass under your shirt you couldn’t help but giggle. Turning to glance at Marcus, who was wearing one of the smaller sheets of spare fabric tied at his hip like a skirt, and you hummed before poking his nose as he leaned in to kiss you.

“We’re going to end up sun burnt, we need to find or make spare sets of clothes.” Your suggestion earned a quiet hum and you tapped your forehead to his, finally letting him have that kiss before you both set about getting things ready for night fall. You turned to look over the wall and froze, staring into the depths with awe, and you whispered your lover’s name; he walked over and looked down, his own body freezing as the massive whale drifted along with you. Whether it was coincidence or not you didn’t know, the large body emerging from the water just far enough away that it wouldn’t tip you over, and the tall stream of water shot out of its blow hole made you shriek in delight before it began to descend into the water again.

“That’s incredible, I’ve never seen one that close before.” Marcus’ voice was breathy with wonder and you nodded, that was a first for you too, and the pair of you couldn’t help but laugh knowing you’d definitely need another wash down after that. But you kind of felt like that was a good omen, a gentle giant just coasting along beside you for however long it had? That could only be a good sign, right? You weren’t superstitious, or at least you tried not to be, but sometimes you tried to give yourself something to believe in.

The afternoon bled into evening, the pair of you spent the day setting debris out to dry and asking things about one another.

Favorite color? Marcus’ was the blue of the clear sky.

Favorite fruit? Anything but bananas, you weren’t surprised to find out he had a bad experience with large tarantulas hiding in the bunches.

Hobbies? The fact that he painted was pretty clear, or at least could throw something together, but Marcus could also play spoons and for some reason that made you grin stupidly as he clacked the wooden utensils you’d carved in an upbeat melody.

All of your hobbies revolved around survival, whittling was used for making things like tools and utensils rather than little statues or figurines. Braiding fiber for rope instead of weaving cloth or making yarn of some kind, practical but not very fun. Marcus interrupted you telling him about managing to throw together a small radio receiver to cup your cheeks in his.

“Hey, you don’t have to sound ashamed of what you know, it’s incredible how skilled you are. I can help you find something fun if you promise to teach me some stuff too, okay? That way I can take some of the burden of handling things around here off your shoulders. We’re… we’re a team, right?” His eyes were soft and his expression was vulnerable, open, and you nodded as your lips pulled into a smile.

“Of course we’re a team, if you can put up with me being a bit of a stick in the mud-“

“I just want you to be you, okay? We’ll figure things out one day at a time.” He kissed you and promised that you were perfect the way you were, stick-in-the-mud and all, before helping you bend another piece of the scrap metal you’d collected to try and make a more permanent anchor than a rope and some rocks in a bucket.

“So why did you want to make a radio receiver? For music?” Marcus grunted as the thick metal piece barely moved, helping you hold it over the fire to try and soften the metal, and you used thick bundles of fabric to try and protect your skin from the potential heat distribution.

“To- to try and find other drifters. Big convoys are good trading partners, and there are trading posts on some of the island communities, wanted to see if I could get more refined materials other than just… scrap.” You were stuttering as the two of you managed to get a bit of a bend in the metal, barely but it was better than nothing, and his cheeks were flushed when you looked up at him. You tilted your head and glanced at the tent in his fabric wrap, brow lifting in mild amusement.

“Look, the fact that you pieced together a radio receiver with some half melted copper, scrap metal twisted into wires, and plastic is a huge turn on. You’re so damn capable, it drives me crazy.” You hadn’t ever met anyone who found it attractive that you could tinker and create and just manage your own out here, your eyes dropping to the project in your hands, and Marcus captured one of your hands to kiss your palm.

“I mean it, you’re incredible. How about we get the receiver working then, see about doing something with the excess material you’ve made and maybe replace some of our scrap?” You found yourself nodding and the two of you continued through the night working to make progress on a better anchor, with Marcus helping you heat and bend the metal scrap plates into hooks that were then bound together in your sturdiest knot work.

All Fics Taglist: @haylzcyon @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @tauralmie @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry @all-the-way-down-here

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @aynsleywalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80 @emiemiemiii

Alt Taglist: @imtryingmybeskar @fan-of-encouragement @grogusmum @sizzlingcloudmentality @deadhumourist @prostitute-robot-from-the-future

[zeenmrala]

🖤🖤🖤

Mimi loves puffer pigs. She adores all animals, but the pigs have a special place in her heart due to the frequency of which they are kidnapped, abused and trafficked on the black market. Their treatment and value reminds her of her own experiences when she was a teenager and she resonates with them on a personal level.

She had six pigs at the peak of her fame, and the animals came to be associated with her - similar to how Paris Hilton became known with her chihuahuas.

The names of her puffer pigs were Lady, Tula, Coryo, Little Darth, Gossip and Manny. Lady was her first pig, rescued from a foundation on Lothal. She had a type of albinism that caused her skin to be a pale white colour and her eyes a vivid, bright pink, her colouring fitting Mimi's aesthetic and matching her own iconic skin. This led to Mimi being enamored of her, and she was even featured in some of Mimi's photoshoots and music holos.

Little Darth was given to her by Ventress, after the runt puffer-pig got stuck in a crate in the cargo of a transport the Sith acolyte acquired on a botched mission for the Separatists during The Clone Wars. Mimi was on board, having been caught up in the chaos - and she had a tantrum, refusing to leave the ship until Ventress allowed her to take the pig with them. Ventress' soft spot for the pop star allowed her to get away with such an immature display, but the ridiculousness of the entire situation wasn't lost on her.

oc ask game - send me a 🖤 and I'll answer a random fact about my OC ♡

[icarusthelunarguard]

 This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter. Better yet! Check out “Heart of the Game, Fredonia” and see if they can sell you those D12’s with the symbols on them. Tell them “Shujin Tribble” sentcha. And “Hail, Hail, Fredonia!” Home of the Blue Devil!

Continuing the Spooky-Month theme, we’ve generated a random list of horror movie titles and are going to make up a new plotline for each one. If you already know these movies, just know that we’re not sorry in the least.

Aries 

In your movie titled, “Ginger Snaps”, you find yourself in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, NY in the mid-1950’s. Two groups of young men with slicked back hair are approaching you; They're all redheads. Suddenly music by Leonard Bernstein sings out of a window adorned with the Puerto Rican flag. Can you sing and dance your way out of this rumble in the concrete jungle?

Taurus 

The year is 1986 and you find yourself in a musical recording studio. You’re the engineer working on the album, “Fore!” by Huey Lewis and the News. The band members are in isolated rooms when an overhead waterline breaks, spilling over the high voltage circuits for the building. Can you escape without being electrocuted? Can you get the band out too? Find out at the end of the 93-minute feature, “Jacob's Ladder”!

Gemini  

Your movie is, basically, just… “Being John Malkovich”, but set in the early 80’s with a new musical soundtrack. Can you pilot a John Malkovich bio-mech suit while listening to Ska music in the musical-thriller feature release, “In the Mouth of Madness”. Let’s watch it at the drive in and find out.

Cancer Moon-Child 

You and your friends have driven out to an old wooden shack of a house in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee. The trees surrounding you whisper in the breeze. Dead leaves keep splattering against the door and windows. There’s an old, creepy book with a face on it and a trap door to the cellar, chained and padlocked shut. Suddenly everything goes quiet! Deep footsteps can be heard on the wooden porch just before a shotgun blast tears off the lock. As the door opens, the silhouette of the most glorious chin in the world is revealed. Can you overcome… “Cabin Fever”? Opening Halloween Weekend. 

Leo 

You find yourself crouched behind a wooden crate in a blocky world with footsteps around you. You’re wearing dark military gear with a matching headband. A muted green glow on your wrist tells you what you’re needed to do: sneak into this facility, find some highly secretive intel, and bug out before you’re spotted. Will you avoid all the patrols and CCTV cameras in the world of…. “Whisper”? 

Virgo 

This is more of an Art Piece than a Horror Movie. Think “Saw”, but with the snobbiest wine taster you’ve ever known. Duct Tape them to a chair; ankles to neck to wrists, and have them watch in horror as their glass of wine sits on a table, out of reach, about to have the most vile desecration done to it. Because suspended over it, on a string, is a brick of ice - moments away from dropping into it. Welcome to…. “The Cube”!

Libra 

She’s out there. You know she is, but you can’t know where. Flitting from tree to tree, mocking you. Daring you to find her. Imitating people’s voices that almost sound like people you knew. Even making comforting sounds to distract you. Your only weapon of defense… a pocket full of corn kernels and raisins. Welcome to the terror of… “The Crow”. 

Scorpio 

A first-person view’s Coming of Age story. You’re terrified, looking back and forth wildly. You know where you are - you’ve seen all these landmarks before when your mom drove you to the bowling alley with her for league days. But now you’re on your own. Your Huffy 5-speed bike under you as you look for the right road to get there… or will you chicken out and try to find your way home? Can you find your way without a map before your classmates find you? How will you survive… “A Nightmare on Elm Street”?

Sagittarius 

It’s April. You’ve put off all the math until the last minute thinking you’ll be able to get everything done in time. But Midnight is fast-approaching and you don’t know where your tax deductions box is. You need to make it through, “Friday the 13th”! Released direct to video because no movie theatres would screen it!

Capricorn 

Poor fifth graders, trying to grow up and be the Top Dogs of the school. They thought it’d be easy. They… Thought… Wrong. They’re outnumbered Ten-to-One with littler students who intend to make their last week of classes Hell on Earth. Welcome to the next chapter in…. “The Frighteners”!

Aquarius 

Join us in a mild-mannered office, with a mild-mannered man, doing a mild-mannered job. Meet “Carl”, lead animator on one of the most popular childrens’ Saturday Morning Cartoon Series of 1969. But he’s trying to hide secrets from his Quality Checker. Smeared motions, missing facial features, wrong character placements from wide to close shots… Will he get paid this week, or lose his job? Follow Carl’s terror as he is… “Haunted”, by Hanna Barbera Studios.

Pisces  

You were paid last month, but something’s wrong; you’re running out of time for your monthly auto-payments. The New Year’s party time was great, but now you’re literally paying it off with your life. Welcome to March as you try to survive… “28 Days Later”!

And THOSE are your Horrible-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, Discord and BLUESKY.

(Calling out @scoobydoomistakes specifically on this one!)

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 7b

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

Anyway, they take one crate, tell the guards goodbye for now, and head back southeast, past Minas Tirith, through Ithilien, into the Mountains of Shadow.

It would have been more efficient for just Gimli and Legolas to collect the crate on the way back from Rivendell, and meet Zuste, Zena, and Dyn in Ithilien, and also spared Zuste, Zena, and Dyn from not only Ent-proximity but also a round trip through Rohan hoping Gondorian gear and clothing will stop anyone asking questions about Dunlendish features. But no one is quite comfortable moving anything in the caves without Dyn there to confirm they aren't about to set something off.

—It would also have been more efficient not to trek all the way to the edge of Mordor for exploding-things practice, but like hell are they doing that in the same zip code as the Ents. No one will care if they blow up bits of Mordor. Life has been returning, slowly, but there are still many barren parts of the mountains where there are hardly even any bugs to disturb with explosions.

…Not too far into Mordor, though. They wouldn't want to find anything.

There, Gimli demonstrates how to drive into rock faces to place the explosives where it will be most effective, and how to lay fuses to a safe distance away, and tries to look like he's done something similar dozens of times before and not two and a half. (And with explosives from blasting powder every time. Dwarves really don't use explosives often, still less Ironfist Oil.)

Some takeaways from the practice:

The Hirnedhrim are stronger than they look, no real surprise there.

Dwarves tolerate explosions noises better than elves or half-elves.

…Except Dyn, who is used to it.

…No, her hearing is fine, she's just used to it.

Zuste — who spent decades in Isengard — is wincing a lot less than Zena or Legolas, too. Maybe it is just a matter of being used to it.

Anyway they should probably bring something to stop their ears with or there will be some at least temporarily unhappy elves.

(Not like Gimli wants to endanger his hearing with explosions, either.)

Horses don't tolerate explosions well at all.

The effect of Wizard's Clay properly placed within a rock-face is Very Impressive.

…None of them know what exactly they're expecting to be breaking into. A cave, or a fortress, or…?

Gimli says he'll bet no one knows and no one except Elladan and Elrohir will admit to not knowing. —Wait, no, that's wrong, Khitwê and Risyind will admit it, too.

Legolas thinks that's the wrong way of looking at it. There's no way any of the elves could know, so they probably won't think they should know, so why should they pretend otherwise? However, if the currently-orcs haven't explained yet then they probably don't know even though it seems like they should.

Gimli still thinks that if you straight-up asked — as a completely random example — Celeborn, he would not say "I don't know".

Zuste has barely met any elves besides the children of Elrond and Legolas's people in Ithilien, so she has no idea, but volunteers Zena to do the asking.

[eucalyptus-gl0bulus]

i sunk four thousand hours and hundreds of dollars into team fortress 2. i'm not gonna sit back and do nothing as valve ignores it further. crates are now filled with cosmetics from the steam workshop themed dartboard. the head miscs can't even be unusual and the only workaround was using ugly full head items and a bug to wear multiple effects.

the skins aren't there for new things to look at theyre there to add more money to valve's wallet. skins are only good in factory new and you want one with a strange counter, so guess what? you're either paying a shitload or gambling and paying a shitload anyway. the skins are picked out by a nonce with no sense for what makes tf2 tf2. this is still better than what the hats

new maps went from one or two maps that an entire update would center around to adding like 10 of the bastards at random because they needed another source of money in the form of map stamps that nobody buys. and there's always the maps that make you wonder if the valve guy tested the map. or even looked at it in the case of wutville.

i watched as weapon skins replaced adding new weapons. i watched as that same update ruined crates forever both with their picks and the rarity system. i had to look on in horror as mid your match was released and added a fuckload of maps that were popular for 6v6 as they fucked that up beyond measure. they added sunshine and fucked everything else.

we were wondering what valve was doing with a thumb in their ass for the year following that, and we didn't like the new halloween maps because ICS was a mapmaker on one. then jungle inferno came out and we were saying that the big update is yearly now.

and then a year came and went

and another

and another

and another

and another

and another

and ANOTHER

and we're on the 8th year of no major updates. and we've gotten fuck all. we've gotten a guy picking items blindly and the maps have become just another THING to add, and there's nothing. we've seen two entire feature length films made in source filmmaker, which is so famously bad with tf2 stuff. we've seen how much the dedicated fans love the game. and we get neglected because csgo needed to be fucked up to match with tf2 and what's next? gotta fuck up dota 2 on top?

the game is completely dead and a graveyard for non-bots on their official servers. contracts and their rewards are pretty much dead now. the only thing we have to play on are uncle dane's tryhard servers for people that scream at new players, bad players, or people not taking the game as seriously as a bomb threat. and all the fun is gone. and if there's a single sniper player on their team then it's just like what casual is like now.

valve managed to have given csgo enough changes such that when the source code was leaked that's a pretty big difference from what we have. we're still on the same major update. we're still on jungle inferno. the version that was leaked and the version we have are only differentiated by how many artstyle breaking hats and war paints and dogshit maps there are.

MODERN TF2 PLAYERS, WE USED TO HAVE A CONSISTENT UPDATE CYCLE. BIG SUMMER UPDATE. BIGGER HALLOWEEN UPDATE. END OF YEAR GAME REBALANCE. EVERY YEAR FROM 2008 ALL THE WAY TO 2015.

[enjomo-arch]

(  unprompted  :  saint )    //    ♠   @villain-he

❛❛ you a pirate ? haven't seen you pilfer not one ship , spicy hot. ❜❜

❝  y'seem  so  sure  'bout  yer'  words.  ❞  what  was  true  only  lay  somewhere  in  the  shadows.  people  would  always  spill  their  thoughts  at  the  mere  chance,  whatever  they  see.  sure,  he  was  right.  at  least  now,  ace  was  not  too  interested  in  robbing  other  ships.  not  when  he  tried  to  stay  low.  it  would  have  been  hard  to  betray  his  position  when  the  whole  world  wanted  his  head  on  a  stick,  he  knew  better  than  not  to  obliterate  his  tracks  wherever  he  went.  the  only  ship  that  was  enough  for  him  was  his  beloved  striker,  and  the  fleet  waiting  for  him  somewhere  on  that  boundless  sea.  

he  appreciated  the  forwardness or maybe foolish accusations,  squatting  down  onto  a  wooden  crate  with  a  bottle  of  booze  hanging  freely  in  his  hand's  grasp.  a  thumb  only  tipped  the  brim  of  his  hat  up,  letting  the  shielding  shadow  over  his  eyes  to  cease  from  the  view.  a  smile  that  would  make  people  want  to  strangle  him  with  how  cocky,  confident  and  sly  it  looked.  spreading  across  his  freckled  features.  ❝  wanna  bet  yer'  head  on  it,  sugar  ?  ❞  his  words  sounded  like  a  taunt,  a  joke.  and  whether  they  were  actually  a  joke  was  left  to  one's  own  interpretation.  before  the  gravity  of  the  situation  would  rise,  however,  only  a  chuckle  stuck  within  his  throat,  shaking  his  head. 

❝  sorry  sorry,  m'  kiddin'.  tryin'  to  stay  low  now.  i  ain't  interested  in  some  random  ships.  so  do  me  a  favor  if  anyone  asked  ya'  never  seen  me  here.  ❞  he  took  a  swing  of  the  bitter  whiskey  from  the  bottle,  smacking  his  lips  with  the  ease  of  burning  taste  flowing  through  his  throat.

[roboticastudios]

Astrofield update v1.9.1.0

"The Art Update"

Update version 1.9.1.0 Change Log.

I am excited to release this update, I really feel that it ups the fun factor. The game feels much more cohesive now. The new menu design is so much better, but this update improved things in almost every different aspect of this project. 

Fun fact - The background stars during gameplay are actually individual objects (Sprite Nodes) that are generated similarly like the asteroids, with which I control via code, that's why the star patterns are always fresh!

-----Gameplay-----

New - Added an unlocking feature to gradually unlock ships.

New - Added crate counter HUD meter.

Changed - Enabled Alpha Fighter ship's laser to start in ready state (Buff).

Changed - Reduced Flare Runner ship's acceleration (Nerf).

Changed - Increased Flare Runner ship's Dodge-Roll timer (Nerf).

Changed - Further reduced the number of spawned asteroids for Easy mode.

Changed - Reduced the number of spawned asteroids for normal mode.

Changed - Required crates for Easy mode now 3, previously 1.

Changed - Required crates for normal mode now 3, previously 2.

Changed - Slightly increased spawn rate of mega sized asteroids.

Changed - Updated difficulty screen to include text and icon descriptions.

-----Art-----

New - Added several color palettes, now 28 total.

New - Added Occasional background comets.

New - Added cursor to pause menu popup to make the selection choice clearer.

Changed - Added more asteroid sprites for variation.

Changed - Swapped out several color palettes.

Changed - Updated asteroid explosion effect for smaller particles.

Changed - Added explosion effect to all ship’s death animations.

Changed - Updated background stars animation.

Changed - Updated title screen art.

Changed - Updated all menu screens art.

Changed - Updated end credit sequence resolution, art, and effects.

Changed - Updated ability Icon art.

Changed - Updated ship screen menu's ship icons animations.

Changed - Adjusted slow thrust effect for Nimbus, Flare Runner, Goshawk, and Alpha Fighter ships.

Changed - Sound Menu cursor and Data Menu cursor to match the rest of the menus.

Changed - Slightly modified the dodge-roll animation for Roy Jr, Flare Runner, and Alpha Fighter ships.

Changed - Adjusted the Pause menu popup coloring to work better with most color palettes.

Changed - Adjusted title screen choices colors to work better with all color palettes.

-----Sound-----

Changed - Lowered the volume of the asteroid explosion sound.

Changed - Added random pitch variation to the asteroid explosion sound.

Changed - Added random pitch variation to some of the beep sounds.

Changed - Added random pitch variation to the dodge-roll sound.

Changed - Swapped the laser sound and added effects.

Changed - Swapped the torpedo sound and added effects.

-----Other-----

Changed - Redid the fonts, and repositioned all of the text fields throughout, so that they now scale with screen size.

Changed - Slightly modified some of the ship end-credit text descriptions for clarity.

-----Backend-----

Modified the asset deletion queue to be more efficient.

Removed deprecated files.

[petwoners]

Premium Pet Supplies

As pet parents, we all strive to provide the best for our furry companions. The pet supplies market is brimming with options, but choosing premium pet supplies ensures quality, durability, and happiness for your pet. This article delves into the world of premium dog supplies, highlighting the must-have dog toys and accessories that will not only entertain your canine friend but also contribute to their overall well-being.

The Importance of Premium Pet Supplies

Investing in premium pet supplies is more than a luxury; it's a commitment to your dog's health and happiness. Premium dog supplies are crafted with high-quality materials, ensuring they are safe, durable, and beneficial for your pet. They often undergo rigorous testing to meet safety standards, which is crucial when it comes to items your dog will chew, wear, or interact with daily.

Dog Toys: More Than Just Fun and Games

Dog toys are essential tools for physical exercise, mental stimulation, and strengthening the bond between you and your pet. Let's explore some top-notch options that stand out in the realm of premium dog supplies.

Interactive Dog Toys: Keeping Your Dog Engaged

Interactive dog toys are a significant part of premium pet supplies, offering mental challenges that keep dogs entertained for hours. These toys come in various forms, such as puzzle toys, treat-dispensing toys, and electronic toys that mimic prey.

Puzzle Toys

Puzzle toys require dogs to solve problems to access treats or toys hidden inside. These can range from simple tasks like flipping open compartments to more complex activities like sliding panels or lifting cones. Such toys are excellent for intelligent breeds that need mental stimulation to prevent boredom and destructive behavior.

Electronic Interactive Toys

Some premium interactive dog toys include electronic components that can move, make sounds, or dispense treats at random intervals. These toys can simulate the movement of prey, triggering your dog's natural hunting instincts. They are especially useful for high-energy dogs that require extensive playtime.

Benefits of Interactive Toys

Mental Stimulation: Keeps your dog's mind sharp and engaged.

Reduces Anxiety: Helps alleviate separation anxiety by keeping them occupied.

Encourages Exercise: Promotes physical activity as they play and chase.

Prevents Destructive Behavior: Reduces boredom-induced chewing or digging.

Dog Treat Toys and Dispensers: A Rewarding Playtime

Dog treat toys, like treat dispenser toys, are innovative tools that combine play with positive reinforcement. They are designed to release treats as your dog interacts with them, providing instant rewards that encourage continuous play.

Features to Look For

Adjustable Difficulty: Allows you to change how easily the treats are dispensed.

Durable Construction: Made from robust materials to withstand chewing.

Easy to Clean: Can be disassembled and washed to maintain hygiene.

Using Treat Dispensers for Training

Treat dispenser toys are not only for entertainment but also serve as effective training aids. By associating play with rewards, you can reinforce good behavior and obedience commands. They are particularly helpful for crate training, encouraging your dog to spend time in their crate with a positive experience.

Dog Rope Toys: Classic Fun with Added Benefits

Dog rope toys are more than just fun playthings; they offer several health benefits. The act of chewing on the rope fibers can help clean your dog's teeth, reducing plaque and preventing gum disease.

Types of Dog Rope Toys

Knotted Ropes: Ideal for chewing and tug-of-war games.

Rope Balls: Great for fetch and interactive play.

Rope Toys with Attachments: Combine ropes with other elements like rubber balls or squeakers for added interest.

Safety Tips for Rope Toys

Regular Inspection: Check for fraying or loose threads that could be ingested.

Appropriate Size: Ensure the toy is suitable for your dog's size to prevent choking hazards.

Supervised Play: Especially for aggressive chewers, supervise playtime to ensure safety.

The Stylish Side of Dog Accessories: Dog Bandanas

Beyond toys, accessories like dog bandanas add a touch of style to your pet's appearance. Dog bandanas are versatile, fashionable, and can be functional too.

Dog Bandanas and Festive Variations

Dog bandanas come in a variety of colors, patterns, and sizes to suit any dog's personality. They are easy to put on and comfortable for your dog to wear. Festive dog bandanas are perfect for holidays and special occasions, allowing your pet to partake in the celebrations with appropriate flair. Whether it's a festive dog bandana for Christmas, Halloween, or a simple day at the park, bandanas for dogs are an effortless way to enhance your pet's look.

Choosing the Perfect Bandana

Material: Opt for breathable, hypoallergenic fabrics like cotton or bamboo fiber.

Size and Fit: Measure your dog's neck to find the right size that is comfortable and secure.

Design: Select patterns or themes that reflect your dog's personality or seasonal festivities.

Choosing the Right Premium Dog Supplies

When selecting premium dog supplies, consider the following factors to ensure you make the best choices for your pet.

Quality of Materials

Premium products should be made from high-quality, non-toxic materials. For toys, this means durable fabrics and safe chew materials. For accessories like bandanas, look for soft, breathable fabrics that won't irritate your dog's skin.

Suitability for Your Dog's Size and Breed

Ensure the dog toys and accessories are appropriate for your dog's size and breed. Small dogs may require smaller toys and bandanas, while larger breeds need sturdier toys that can withstand their strength.

Safety Features

Check for any small parts or loose threads that could pose a choking hazard. Premium dog supplies should have safety features in place, such as reinforced stitching on toys and secure fastenings on bandanas.

Caring for Your Premium Dog Supplies

To ensure longevity and safety, it's essential to care for your premium dog supplies properly.

Cleaning Dog Toys

Regularly clean your dog's toys to prevent the buildup of bacteria and dirt. Most rubber and plastic toys can be washed with warm soapy water, while fabric toys may be machine washable. Always check the manufacturer's instructions.

Maintaining Dog Bandanas

Wash dog bandanas after each use, especially if they become soiled or wet. Use mild detergents to avoid skin irritation and let them air dry to maintain their shape and color.

Storing Supplies

Keep dog toys and accessories in a designated storage area to prevent clutter and make them easily accessible. This also helps in rotating toys to keep your dog interested.

Conclusion

Providing your canine companion with premium pet supplies is a rewarding investment in their happiness and health. From interactive dog toys that stimulate their minds to stylish dog bandanas that make them stand out, the options are plentiful and exciting. Remember to choose products that are safe, durable, and suitable for your dog's unique needs. With the right premium dog supplies, you can enrich your pet's life, strengthen your bond, and enjoy countless hours of joy together.

Your dog is more than just a pet; they're a cherished member of the family. By investing in premium pet supplies, you're ensuring they receive the best care, entertainment, and comfort possible. From stimulating interactive dog toys to stylish and functional dog bandanas, the right supplies can significantly enhance your dog's quality of life. Remember, a happy dog makes for a happy home.

[flowersforbucky]

diet pepsi

logan howlett x reader - 2.8k words

summary: old!logan x reader limousine sex. inspired by the song diet pepsi by addison rae

author's note: i recently rewatched logan and haven't been able to stop thinking about what it would be like to have him in the backseat of that limousine. then i heard this song a few days ago and knew exactly what i had to write.

warnings/tags: smut, porn with plot, unprotected p in v, oral (m&f receiving), pet names (princess, honey), reader has kinda longish hair (nothing too specific), a little angsty but mostly fluffy? happy ending, reader is afab, no use of of y/n, 18+ only mdni

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when we drive in your car, i'm your baby

losing all my innocence in the backseat

say you love, say you love, say you love me

losing all my innocence in the backseat

The cab of the limousine reeks of leather and smoke - both stale and fresh, from the cigars he has chain smoked over the last few days and two thousand miles - give or take a few.

It's a scent you've grown surprisingly fond of. You know that no matter how long this thing between the two of you lasts, you'll forever associate the smoky sweet aroma of tobacco with him.

You've been laying down across the backseat for the last few hours, trying and failing to get some sleep at Logan's request, as he drives from Reno back to Mexico. The two of you had left the familiar comfort of the abandoned smelting plant three days ago in search of a bulk supply of Charles’ medications - a search that led you to Nevada and yielded a six month supply of injections and pills.

You sit up in the middle of the seat, meeting Logan's gaze in the rearview mirror.

He's exhausted. He’d never admit it to you, but you know him better than he likely realizes. He's hanging on by a thread.

The digital clock on the dashboard reads it's just past noon. Another four hours and some change to go.

Asking him to pull over and rest for his own sake would be a fruitless waste of time, this much you know from the drive to Reno. What was supposed to be at least a seventeen hour drive turned into a fifteen hour drive as he sped the whole way and only stopped for the absolutely necessary food, bathroom, and gas breaks. Only after obtaining the crates of medicine did he allow himself the simple luxury of a few hours sleep.

“What's that look for, princess?” he asks as he breaks his stare, his eyes snapping back to the endless expanse of the blazing asphalt in front of you.

“I'm hungry,” you shrug with a sly grin. “And I need some coffee. And I miss you.”

He lets out a low laugh, a smirk forming across his features in the reflection of the glass. You don't miss the way his fingers grip the cracked leather of the steering wheel tighter at the words I miss you.

“We'll stop for something to eat soon, I promise.”

You hum in response, moving from your position on the further bench seat to the one that rests against the driver’s and front passenger’s seat, directly behind him. You lean your chest against the backrest, dangling one arm across the seat so that you can bring your hand to stroke the prominent stubble across his jaw.

“And what about the last thing?” you murmur, running your thumb along his bottom lip as you stare at him. He tenses beneath your touch but doesn't take his eyes off of the road before him.

“I'm right here, princess. Don't gotta miss me.”

“You know what I mean.”

He's barely touched you since you had first left Mexico three days ago - and you understand why, truly. He's been focused on getting to Reno, getting the medication, and getting the fuck back home before the last few days worth of Charles’ injections and pills are gone. Even when you stopped at a random motel for a few hours of shut eye, you were both too exhausted to do anything other than sleep.

In fact, it was the first time that you've slept in a bed together without him being between your legs. You didn't mind it all - the simplicity and the intimacy of just sleeping curled into each other was something you'd always cherish from this trip.

But you’d be lying if you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t aching to have him in all of the ways that you’re so used to having him.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” he sighs, kissing the side of your thumb that still rests along his bottom lip. It's pathetic how the small act has you ready to crawl over the seat and straddle him. “We're almost home, though. Don't you want me to shower first?” he teases.

You know that both of you have to smell something foul - the motel you'd stayed in didn't even have a functioning shower, and the western United States heat is no joke this time of year. You both did the best you could with the bathroom sink and some baby wipes that you snagged from the gas station across the road, but whore's baths and deodorant just don't quite cut it in ninety-five degree weather.

“No, I don't,” you admit - you can't even bring yourself to care if it's pathetic. You bring your face closer to his, your nose nuzzling just under his ear. “I want you to pull over, get in the back of this car, and let me ride you until we both come.”

He hisses when your lips lock around the tender flesh of his earlobe, causing him to swerve and quickly correct back into the right lane.

“Fuckin hell,” he grunts, knuckles gripping the wheel so tight that they start to turn white. “Can't be saying that shit when I'm driving. Gonna make me wreck this thing.”

You laugh into the side of his neck, trailing wet kisses along his skin. “I'd suggest pulling over, then.”

He sighs again, all but melting into your touch now. You know you're getting your way when he flips on the turn signal and looks over his shoulder before merging right and then pulling off on the side of the desolate highway.

“You know that you've got me wrapped around your little finger, don't you?” He asks as he unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the limousine, slamming the driver's door behind him before you can respond. You move back to your original position on the back bench seat as he crawls in with you, pulling a spare key from his pocket to lock the still-running vehicle.

“Wrapped around my little finger is exactly where I intend to keep you.” He smiles - the first real smile you've seen from him in days and you melt a little inside. He kneels on the felt carpet before you, splaying his hands on your inner thighs and pushing them apart.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he murmurs into the flesh of your thighs, his facial hair tickling the bare skin. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of both your shorts and panties and you raise off the seat a few inches, giving him the clearance to tug them down past your ankles. You're left in nothing but a thin cotton tank top, your nipples pebbling from the way he's looking up at you.

“Cause that's exactly where I like to be.”

It's a rare occurrence that the two of you exchange such sweet sentiments - he usually only goes as far as whispering my girl in your ear as he sheaths himself inside you after late nights at work, when he comes home with lips that taste like single malt whiskey.

He loops his arms around the backs of your legs and tugs you forward on the seat, bringing your cunt directly to his mouth. Any sense of hesitation he initially had about hooking up on the side of the highway goes out the window as soon as his tongue licks a thick strip from your hole and up to your clit. You hiss, digging the fingernails of one hand into the old, weathered leather of the seat and bringing your other to lace your fingers through the salt and pepper colored locks of his hair.

As tired as he is from days of driving and very little sleep, you would never be able to tell with the fervency of his tongue lapping your folds. He always eats you like it’s the last time he ever will - and knowing Logan as well as you do, there’s always that chance that it very well could be.

So, you grab his hair and pull him as close to you as he can possibly be and revel in every lick, every kiss, every tug of his lips around your clit as he makes you believe that the two of you could have a lifetime of these moments together.

You can already feel that tell-tale warmth blooming in the pit of your abdomen when he brings a singular finger to your hole and plunges it inside you. Your walls constrict around the digit and he groans against your clit, the vibration spurring you closer to the edge of your climax. You grind yourself into his mouth as he sinks his tongue inside you, your back arching off of the seat and your eyes rolling into your head.

He pulls his tongue from inside you and moves his mouth up to your clit once more, locking his lips around the nub and pulling away with a wet pop that sends you over the edge. You ride out your orgasm on his face, writhing until he pulls his finger out of you. You’re still seeing rainbows of colors and stars when he brings the wet finger to your mouth and shoves it past your lips, swirling the sweet tang of your juices around in your mouth.

“You taste that?” he murmurs, pulling his finger out of your mouth and inserting it in his own. He takes his time, cleaning the last remnants of your slick from the digit. “That’s how you’ve got me so wrapped around your finger.” His words make your head spin, like you’ve had one too many shots of his favorite bourbon that he always keeps a steady supply of.

“Your turn.” Your words even sound slurred as you bring your fists to his chest, urging him backwards onto the seat opposite of you. You take his place on the floor of the limousine, crawling towards where he’s now lounging with his large thighs already spread wide for you.

You’re about to reach for the button of his jeans when he leans forward, grabbing the tail-end of your tank top and quickly tugging it over your head. You’re left bare before him and you’re hit with a wave of relief that these windows are tinted beyond what’s legal in the state of New Mexico.

His eyes travel from your thighs and up your stomach as he sweeps your hair over your shoulders, giving him an unhindered view of your breasts.

“My girl,” he hums, not taking his eyes off of you as he pops the button at the top of his pants and tugs down the zipper. “My pretty girl.”

“Yours,” you agree, butterflies mixing with arousal in your gut as you help him pull the restrictive fabric of his jeans and boxers down until they bunch around his ankles. His cock springs free, hard and leaking pre-cum down around the head.

You feel saliva pool in your mouth at the sight. As many times as you've had his impressive length inside you, you don't think it'll ever not make your mouth water.

You take the base of him in one hand, languidly pumping him as you lean forward, gathering all of the spit in your mouth and releasing it over the tip of his cock. You continue to stroke him, smearing the wetness down his length.

He groans, deep and guttural as he throws his head back against the seat. You can't see, but you know that his eyes have snapped shut at the pleasure.

When you've got him fully lubricated, you ease the tip of him into your mouth and swirl your tongue around his head. He brings a hand to the back of your head and pulls you forward, cramming more of himself into your mouth. You open wider to accommodate his length as it juts against the back of your throat.

“Fuck, honey,” he grunts when you pause to adjust to the stretch that you're feeling in your jaws. “You always take me so well. Never had anyone make me feel as good as you do.”

You moan around his dick at the praise, feeling your own arousal budding again in your lower belly. You pull back until only half of him is left inside your mouth, and then slowly begin to bob up and down, the tip of him repeatedly jabbing against the back of your throat. What little of his length that you can't take at one time, you continue to stroke in your hand. Your free hand comes to cup his balls, massaging them in rhythm with the thrusts of your mouth on his cock. You can feel tears begin to leak out of the corners of your eyes and down your cheeks from the lack of oxygen.

Right when you feel him begin to twitch against your tongue, he threads his fingers through your hair and yanks you off of him.

“You said you wanted to ride me until we both came, yeah?” He wraps his hands around the tops of your arms, pulling you upwards and onto his lap. You're too light headed to speak so you just nod quickly, adjusting your position across his lap. His cock is pressed against his lower stomach, lodged between the wet lips of your cunt and his happy trail.

“I want you to do just that.” He grabs you by the hips, pulling you forward along his shaft. You raise up on the balls of your feet as he takes himself in his fist, running his tip through your folds to lubricate himself with your juices before stopping at your hole. He juts his hips upwards at the same time that you sink down, causing the entirety of his length to be sheathed inside you at once.

“Oh my god,” you groan as you adjust to the sheer size of him. He always stretches you so painfully sweet. You steady yourself with your hands on his broad shoulders, realizing that he’s still in a two day old t-shirt. He reads your mind and yanks the fabric over his head. You take in the sight before you - all of the defined planes of his chest, his body hair that you love to run your fingers through when you’re riding him, that one vein that bulges on his bicep that you just want to trace with your tongue -

You raise up again, until he’s almost all the way out of you and only the head of his cock remains inside you before you sink back down all at once, earning an animalistic growl from him. You repeat the ministrations until you have acclimated to his size. You begin to increase your speed, the sound of your ass bouncing off of his thighs echoing around the limited space of the limosuine’s cab.

“So goddamn tight,” he spits through gritted teeth, one hand coming to plant a firm grasp on your asscheek. He digs his fingers into the meat with enough force to leave bruises but it only spurs on your movements. You liked it - the idea of being marked by him, even if it wasn’t something that anyone else would ever be able to see. “Always feel like you were made for me.”

You let out a pathetic whimper at his words, not knowing what to say or do to convey your emotions in that moment other than to lower your lips to his. He immediately opens his mouth to you, letting your tongue inside to merge with his. His taste was so comforting and familiar to you - tobacco and peppermint and something uniquely Logan. You didn’t think you’d find a flavor quite like it in anyone else, and you never wanted to test that theory.

“I was,” you whine breathlessly when you finally pull away. “Was made for you.”

He begins to meet your bounces with thrusts of his own, hitting the sweet spot of your cervix just right with each movement.

“Say it,” he grunts - you can tell he’s close by his movements growing erratic beneath you. “Wanna hear you say that you’re mine.”

You can feel your second orgasm building with every word that he says. He brings his free hand in between your bodies, finding your clit right away. He massages you with his thumb and you come around his cock with a cry of his name.

“I am,” you pant through your orgasm as he continues to thrust up into you. “I am yours, I’ve been yours, just yours.” Your admission sends him over the edge and he spills into you from below, both of his arms wrapping around your lower back and pulling your bare chest against his.

“You mean that?” he murmurs against the sweat-coated skin of your collarbone. You lean back enough to look down at him, cradling his jawline in the palm of your hand.

“I do,” you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper. “But only if you’re mine, too,” you add with a small, nervous laugh.

“I've been yours since the day we met, princess. Just had a hard time believing you could want me in the same way.”

You snort a laugh at the confession that sounds so ridiculous to you, and then bring your lips to his once more to show him just how badly you absolutely do want to be his.

thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are always very appreciated 💕

other logan works by me: straight to my head • claw kink drabble • dog tag drabble

[bittopup-inc]

Mastering PUBG Mobile: How to Recharge Your UC Easily

In the world of PUBG Mobile, UC (Unknown Cash) is the key to unlocking premium content that enhances your gaming experience. From exclusive weapon skins to the coveted Royal Pass, UC allows players to personalize and upgrade their gameplay. This guide will walk you through everything you need to know about PUBG Mobile UC, including how to top up your UC safely and efficiently on BitTopup, and why it's the best platform for your in-game purchases.

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