#flush cache

[tropiyas]

I did the thing where you said someone's joke after them except louder but it was by ACCIDENT I literally did not register until it was too late

[bynux]

hey I'm sorry I stopped in the middle of that sentence my brain decided to flush its cache and I totally forgot what this conversation was

[web-hosting174]

Learn how to flush the DNS cache in Chrome with our ultimate guide to chrome://net-internals/#dns. Clear DNS cache to fix website loading issues now.

[taurasiluvr]

i need riding cc’s strap pleaseeeee

OOOOUUUUUU ABSOLUTELY LOVE

as soon as the door clicked shut behind you, she was on you, her lips capturing yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. "i need you, baby," she murmured against your lips, her hands already working to strip you of your clothes.

you felt a rush of heat at her words, your own arousal skyrocketing. "need you too," you replied breathlessly, helping her remove the last of your clothes before she sank to the bed.

she guided you onto the bed, positioning you in between her legs as she continued kissing you. she pulled you on top of her, and aligned the strap-on with your entrance as you sat on her lap. with one slow, deliberate thrust, you pushed inside, filling you completely. you gasped at the sensation, your body arching in response.

your hands grabbed on her shoulders for support as your head fell back at the sensation. "oh fuck, cait,"

your words were a breathless moan as you began to move, the sensation of caitlin filling you driving you wild. caitlin's hands were on your hips, guiding your movements as you rode her, the friction and fullness creating waves of pleasure that had you shivering with every thrust.

"that's it, baby," caitlin groaned, her voice rough with desire. "look so fucking beautiful like this, riding me like a slut."

you felt a flush of heat at her words, your pace quickening as you rocked your hips against her. the room was filled with the sounds of your bodies moving together, the wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin, and your breathless moans mingling with caitlin's low groans.

"cait, need more," you gasped, your hands gripping her shoulders tightly. "please, give me more."

caitlin's grip on your hips tightened, her thrusts becoming more forceful as she met your movements with her own. "that what you want?" she growled, her eyes dark with lust. "want me to fuck you harder?"

"oh yes," you cried out, your body trembling with the intensity of your need. "harder, cait, please."

she responded by increasing the intensity of her thrusts, driving into you with a power that had you seeing stars. cach movement sent jolts of pleasure through your body, building you up higher and higher.

"god, you're so perfect," caitlin panted, her hands sliding up to cup your breasts, her thumbs brushing over your nipples. "love watching you like this, love how you take me."

your head fell back, a loud moan escaping your lips as you felt your climax approaching. "'m so close, cait," you gasped, your body trembling. "i'm gonna cum."

"cum for me, baby," she urged, her voice filled with raw need.

with a final, powerful thrust, you came hard, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. you cried out, your nails digging into caitlin's shoulders as you rode out your orgasm, every nerve ending alive with sensation. caitlin held you close, her own breathing ragged as she continued to thrust into you, prolonging your pleasure until you were utterly spent.

finally, she slowed, her movements becoming gentle as she helped you come down from your high. you collapsed against her, your body still trembling, and buried your face in the crook of her neck.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[dez78]

A night of passion

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

As requested by @ghoulspirits

Hope I captured the moment! Enjoy!

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

Fandom: Fallout 4

Pairings: Hancock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+)

Additional Tags: Smut with plot, romantic Hancock, Public sex, massage leads to sexy time.

Summary: You and Hancock finally find time to have a break and things get heated quick.

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

(Not my Gif)

You and Hancock headed into the Third Rail. The last few days have been hell, you have been retrieving caches and dead drops for the Railroad. You needed a break from the constant fighting, you yearned to just sit and have a beer.

"Hey Chuck, two beers." Hancock said as he leaned on the bar,

"Coming right up, mayor!" Charlie replied as he went over to the old, rusted out fridge.

You went to sit on the stool, but Hancock caught your wrist. You looked up at him with a perplexed expression on your weathered features.

"No, no, sweetheart. You and me got a reserved section in the VIP." Hancock said to you in a sensual tone. You quirked your eyebrow and smirked at him.

"Is that so?" You asked with a snarky tone and a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Hm mhm." Hancock hummed in response, he grabbed the two beers and whisked you away to the shadows of the VIP lounge, tucked away from the prying eyes.

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

Upon entering, Hancock handed you one of the beers. You took it and popped it open with your pipboy. You plopped down on the old, worn couch. The springs protested under yours and Hancock's weight.

The ghoul flipped his feet up, resting them on the ottoman, taking a swig of his beer. You sipped your own, relaxing finally. Your muscles were tense.

You felt all the pressure in your joints as you rolled your shoulders with a low groan and a furrowed brow.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Hancock questioned, looking over at you.

"Just sore from all that damn fighting and walking." You whined, rolling your neck.

"Well, I ain't no expert, but I can try to help." Hancock offered, you didn't respond verbally, only nodding your head.

Hancock sat up, he put his beer on the floor. You unzipped your vault suit, revealing your skin to your partner. Hancock bit back the moan as he saw your skin for the thousandth time. It didn't matter how many times he saw you; you still stole his breath.

His rough hand trailed down your smooth back, unclasping your bra with only two fingers. You sighed a long breath as you felt the freedom. Hancock watched his fingers mapping your skin and the details of it.

Then he gripped your shoulders, you groaned low, throwing your head back.

His palms and thumbs massaged in the right places. You felt the popping of your joints and the release of your muscle tensity. You were lost in the sensation that Hancock's voice sounded yards away.

When you came to, Hancock was laughing.

"Now come on, sunshine. You keep making those noises, I'll have to cut this short." He said as he growled low, his breath on your neck. You bit your lip; your cheeks were flushed a bright pink.

"Would that be such a horrible thing?" You questioned innocently.

"I would certainly take you up on that offer." Hancock replied, still massaging your neck and shoulders. You turned then, catching Hancock's breath. He bit his lip as his coal eyes were fixed on yours.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." He said stunned, admiring every detail of your face in the dim light. You were surprised, the first thing he didn't look at were your breasts, instead he fawned over your face, your eyes, your lips.

You smiled to yourself; he had his charm, but sometimes he was about more than sex. Only for you. You weren't an object or a one-night stand that meant nothing. You were his equal, his partner, you were his and he was yours.

Hancock cupped your jaw, you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. He hummed with contentment. He pulled you in and captured your lips in a tender kiss. He ran his other hand up your body, feeling every inch of your stomach before finally cupping one of your breasts in his large hand.

He gave you a gentle squeeze, you moaned into his mouth and that was his invitation. He dipped his tongue into your mouth. You let him in with no hesitation, your lips danced with each other in a smooth rhythm.

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

It wasn't long before things got hot and heavy, Hancock had torn off your vault suit and his own clothes. He held you up by your waist as he laid on top of you, leaving a trail of love bites across your neck and breasts. His fingers were graceful as he smoothed up your back.

He drove powerful thrusts into you, you were glistening with beads of sweat and were a mess of sound. It was music to Hancock's ears.

"That's right, baby girl. Let them know who you belong to." He rasped through thrusts. You cried out, arching your back. Hancock kept you steadied as your body convulsed for the fourth time that night.

Hancock leaned down, kissing your jawline as he slowed to an even pace. Giving you time to recover. He kissed your neck tenderly as he pushed into you slowly.

"You like that, sweetheart?" Hancock purred into your ear; you nodded slowly enjoying the feeling of him filling you up with his immensity.

"You're such a good girl for taking it all." Hancock praised you, you shuddered with delight as his voice rumbled against your sensitive skin. He kissed your lips with a tenderness he only had for you.

You usually liked it the way he gave it, but sometimes you wanted slow, and he provided and proved to be an excellent lover in both times. It all depended on you. He respected your feelings. He never did anything you were against. He always made sure you were okay and if you liked what he was doing. If not, then he'd stop.

He was never rough unless you wanted it. You loved that about him, he gave you options and freedom with your love life.

"You ready, love? Or do you want this some more?" Hancock asked you, kissing your neck gently.

"I want it rough." You growled, Hancock got that mischievous glint in his eye and gave you a devilish grin.

He sat up.

"Spread your legs for me, baby." He commanded, you opened your legs for him, and he devoured you. You threw your head back, screaming in bliss. Your thighs quivered. He was hitting your sweet spot. Your hair was falling over your face, wet from sweat.

Beads trickled down the curve of your breast, your lips were swollen, your body glistened, and your eyes sparkled. You were beautiful. It sent Hancock over the edge. You arched your back, contracting around your lover. Your whole body shook.

"Fuck." Hancock breathed with a hoarse laugh. You laid there for a moment, catching your breath. Hancock smiled, drawing circles on your stomach.

"Enjoy, sweetheart?" He smirked; your eyes were half lidded as you looked at him.

"What do you think?" You quipped with a tired smile. Hancock didn't say anything, just gave you his own genuine smile. You loved how he wore it. It suited him. You were the only one to ever see his true smile. He faked it for others, but he put all his trust in you.

You felt lucky to know him, the true him. Not the show ghoul that he put on for everyone else. The facade. You grabbed his face and pulled him on top of you. He rolled his tongue at you,

"Round two already?" He teased; you shook your head.

"No, just kiss me." You told him, he looked a bit surprised, but didn't protest to the request. He leaned down. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his lips against yours.

The kiss was sweet, not heavy and hot like it was moments ago. This one was tender, gentle, and full of love. Hancock poured his all his feelings into his kisses. This time was no different.

The two of you pulled away for only, but a moment. In that time, your eyes met. You saw the sincerity in Hancock's expression.

"I love you, sunshine." He said, brushing strands of hair from your sticky forehead, you smiled up at him.

"I love you too, John." You replied lovingly. Hancock's smile was bright, he loved his name on your lips, it was a beautiful sound, even more beautiful than your moans, he admitted.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours again, savoring the kiss. Savoring the moment. It was perfect, you were perfect.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Well & Truly Married - Mal de Mer

Is this, Mel wonders, a milestone?

Mal de Mer

cw: peeing, and a conversation during. (I warned 'yall.)

Snippet:

In the aftermath, fatigue—the great equalizer—fells them both.

It's late noon when they stir again. The sun is higher now, the shadows longer.  Their spent bodies, caught in the liquid pull of gravity, are still fused.  She cradles him in the circle of her arms and legs; he is nearly boneless, as if she's drained him dry.  The soft rhythmic tickle of his breath, warm on her throat, is the only sign of life.  Even his heartbeat, usually a ruthlessly steady cadence, has slowed to a lullaby under her palm.

Mel pictures the child in her womb: a tiny, perfect gift, tucked in a bed of bliss.

She smiles.

"Silco," she whispers, and drops a kiss to his damp forehead. "Wake up."

A drowsy rumble. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because if I do, you'll go."

"We're in the middle of the sea, my love." The unaccustomed endearment slips off her tongue. "Where would I possibly go?"

"Back to the shore."

The simplicity of the statement steals her breath. She has to swallow twice before the words come. "And leave you, is that it?" His silence is a sullen confirmation. She seals another kiss to his temple, right above his bad eye. "Never, Schatz. Not unless you ask me to."

"Good." He burrows closer. "I've no intention of asking."

Mel hides her smile in the dark crown of his head. Her fingers, tracing the ridges of his spine, encounter a terrain of welts. Some have scabbed up. Others are rawly oozing. The memory of her own frenzy is a guilty sting.

And yet all she can think is: How lovely.

His body, like a canvas, holds the imprint of all her spent passions. A signature he'll carry under his clothes for days. She's claimed him, and she's proud.

And she needs a bath.

With effort, Mel extricates herself from the languid tangle of arms and legs. Silco, with a groggy growl, tries to drag her back. But Mel's will is a match for his—and the pressure in her bladder is verging on painful. She manages, with coaxing tugs, to persuade him that a shared soak is a more worthwhile pursuit than lazing in a bed full of stale fluids. 

Not bothering with dressing-gowns, they pad, naked and wobbly, across the tiles. In the brightness, Mel can see the full extent of the damage they've done. A constellation of contusions—red, purple, green, yellow, blue—stains their bodies in visceral record.

"You’re beautiful like this," Silco says, idling by the tub as it fills.

"I look like a bruised plum."

"You do." He comes up behind her, arms snaking about her waist. "A juicy, well-fucked plum."

"What an appalling metaphor."

"No less true."

She half-turns in his embrace. Her fingertips trace the mottled discoloration below his collarbone.

"And what does that make you?" she muses. "The apple of my eye?"

"Too poisonous."

"And yet the sweetest I've tasted."

He scoffs. But his arms tighten around her.  It's a discrepancy she's slowly becoming aware of. From irreproachably aloof for days, he is now disclosing a secret cache of neediness. His hands can't seem to stray from her body. If she's more than an arm's length away, his eyes follow as if magnetized.

At the toilet, she hopes he'll grant her privacy. Unfazed, he props a shoulder against the doorframe and watches. It's a testament to Mel's own wrung-out stupor that there is no self-consciousness. Only a strange new species of intimacy.

After last night, there are few secrets left to guard between them. 

Then Silco strolls over, and takes himself in hand. Reflexively, Mel scoots back as he aims squarely between her parted legs. There is the splash of water on water. Her first frisson of alarm mutes into a droll amusement.

The exchange is the most surreal, and surreally matter-of-fact, she's ever had with a man.

"Does this mean the honeymoon is well and truly over?" she muses, as he tugs the latch of the flush.

Leaning over, Silco drops a kiss on her hair. "It means we're well and truly married."

It is no love lyric. But a laugh bubbles out of her.

This, she decides, is a side of him well worth the wait.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Who vibes for Vibranium?

AN: Have a little short and sweet, sort of cracky Stucky sexual shenanigans story. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @metalbvcky but all errors are my fault.

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List

Summary: Steve likes to be indulged. It's a good thing Bucky likes to indulge him. Even if he's a thieving little big brat sometimes.

Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

WC: <1k

CW: AU: Not Canon Compliant, teasing, suggestive dialogue, Super-Soldier sexy shenanigans, discussion of impact play, discussion of bondage, Steve Rogers is a little shit, Soft Top Bucky Barnes, Bratty Bottom Steve Rogers, Fade to Black.

Bingo Fills and Challenges:

@stuckybingo I4 - Vibranium

“Come on, Buck. It’ll be fun.” Bucky pulled a face at Steve’s wheedling tone. He wasn’t convinced.

“Fun? Just sounds like a recipe for disaster to me.”

Steve sidled up to him, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist, looking into his eyes and doing his best Little Shit ™ pout. “Don’t you miss being able to hold me down. Like really stop me from moving.” Steve nuzzled into Bucky’s neck and Bucky let out a huff. 

“I miss it,” Steve continued, letting his teeth scrape over Bucky’s throat. Bucky closed his eyes and tried to think of the Presidents of the United States. “I miss feeling all helpless under you.” Steve’s fingers slipped up under the back of Bucky’s shirt and started to draw light patterns over his skin, making him shiver. “One vibranium arm can only do so much and I can’t work out a way for you to use my shield to help.”

“Steve,” Bucky cautioned. “This isn’t really a conversation about informed consent if you’re trying to get my dick to make the decision and not my brain. It’s cheating.”

Steve raised his head with a grin. “Is it working though?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, knowing he’d already lost the fight. “You’re such a punk, you know that?”

“But I’m your punk, and you love me.”

“Unfortunately so,” Bucky agreed. “Now, if you wanna do this, first you gotta hand ‘em over.”

Steve let go of him and practically skipped across their apartment. How a 6”2’ supersoldier could move like that Bucky didn’t know, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t stimulating to watch. It was also kinda cute, the way that Steve was getting giddy at the thought of doing something ‘kinky’. 

As two queer guys who’d grown up in the 30’s, neither were strangers to things that were nowadays termed as kinky, but no matter how long they’d been together, and how many different things they’d done, Steve was always enthusiastic, as though it was his first time, every time. 

When Steve returned from his little sojourn into his study, he was practically vibrating - ha! - with energy and he passed over his new toy with a grin.

“Do I even wanna know where you got these from?” Bucky asked. Of course this was the question that made Steve look a little embarrassed. His neck flushed pink and his left hand came up to brush over the hair at the back of his head. 

“I - uh - may have found them in the cache of recovered HYDRA hardware that Fury keeps in the upstate warehouse.”

“Steve Rogers,” Bucky let out, teasingly. “Are you telling me that you - the great and righteous Captain America - stole these Vibranium handcuffs?”

Steve startled “No! Not stole. Just - umm - borrowed.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and Steve had the good grace to look slightly cowed. “I mean - we might give them back?”

“If they help me beat your ass without struggling to keep you still they are definitely not going back,” Bucky retorted, failing to get the right tone of authority into his voice.

“You promise?” Steve asked slyly and Bucky shook his head in mild disbelief at his bratty boyfriend.

“The fucking audacity,” he said to no-one in particular, and then “Get in that bedroom, Rogers and strip. You’re getting ten for your cheek, and if you aren’t ready when I get in there, then it’s an extra ten.” 

“Oh no,” cried Steve with faux despair. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Nothing, if these work.” Bucky took a step closer, drawing himself up to his full height, despite that being two inches less than Steve’s. It had the desired effect though - science might have taken Steve out of his little body, but it hadn’t taken the memory of being in that little body out of Steve. Steve shrank down, now reacting to Bucky’s domineering aura. “You’ll do nothing except cry those sweet tears as I turn your ass red because you won’t be able to get away from me. You won’t be able to stop me. Now - do I have to tell you again? Get in there and strip.”

Steve turned, scurrying into the bedroom as fast as he could with his cock doing its best impression of a flagpole between his legs. 

Smiling to himself, Bucky looked at the cuffs, inspecting them and working out how they opened and closed. The last thing he wanted was for them to get stuck, even if the thought  of Stark being mentally scarred for life having to come and help remove them was amusing as hell.

“Time to see if these work,” he muttered to himself, before calling out “Ready or not, here I come.”

Over an hour later

“Yup,” Bucky said with a smile as he stretched out. “Those definitely work.”

Steve groaned and buried his head into Bucky’s side, while lying on his stomach. “My ass is on fire,” he complained.

Bucky sniggered. “Quit your whining, you big baby. You only have yourself to blame. And you’ll be all healed up in an hour. Two, tops.”

As Steve huffed against him and threw an arm across his stomach, Bucky picked up the cuffs from where he’d deposited them after removing them from Steve’s wrists. He turned them over in his hands, pondering.

“I wonder,” he said, “if we got a metal footboard whether these would magnetise strongly enough to it that I could use them to keep your legs apart…”

Steve let out a moan that wasn’t entirely one of despair. “Buck, let me recover before you start trying to turn me on again.”

With a smile still on his lips, Bucky leant over and places a kiss to the top of Steve’s sweaty head.

“Love you, punk.”

“Love you too, jerk.”

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @crayongirl-linz, @mightstill, @nicoline1998enilocin, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

[lensman-arms-race]

Miscellaneous Skibidi Toilet ideas (part 3)

The only way to kill a Skibidi for good is to properly destroy the head (shooting, stabbing, etc.). If you only flush it, the Skibidi head is only temporarily out of action, and will later respawn in another empty toilet. (That's why the war is still going on - the alliance doesn't realise this and relies too much on flushing.)

---

Microphones and speakers are the same thing, just specialised in different directions. (That not a headcanon; that's literally true IRL. Any speaker can function as a crude microphone and vice versa.) Therefore, some cameras can learn to use their microphone as a tiny speaker, enabling them to audibly vocalise a bit (just very quietly and tinnily).

This would also explain why the Skibidi-possessed cameras are able to join in the 'skibidi skibidi skibidi' chant; they're sounding it out through their microphones.

They probably can't use their microphones as a mic and a speaker at the same time, so if they choose to talk out loud, they can't hear anything as they say it.

---

Imagine speakers enjoying discovering a cache of human-made music, until they stumbled across Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music and were like '…no no no no NO NO NO not that one!'

That album was made by Reed playing an electric guitar and putting a microphone between 2 amplifiers and recording the resulting feedback. Speakers would probably think that was so wrong!

---

Imagine hardware-heads being fascinated by humans being able to increase their strength through weight-lifting and other training. It means that humans can effectively self-upgrade. They'd probably be in awe of our tissues' ability to self-repair too.

---

Cameras see at a fixed framerate, resulting in some interesting effects when recording something that's in sync with the framerate. (This is a thing IRL; you've probably already seen clips of helicopter rotors or plane propellors in sync with a video camera, making it look as though the aircraft is mysteriously hovering without moving its engines.)

Therefore, with a bit of 'Hollywood logic', you could write something with Skibidis developing stealth technology that takes advantage of this effect, blinking out of existence during each frame. The stealthy Skibidi is undone when the hardware-heads call in a human ally to help - human eyes' saccades are too random for the Skibidi to keep up, and the human can see them!

(I won't go into saccades to avoid derailing the post, but look them up when you get a moment. The way eyes work is nuts!)

---

Silliness: imagine a hardware-head trying to access a human webpage but they can't because they don't tick the 'prove you're human/not a robot' tickbox. They think it's just a preferences thing; they don't realise it controls access to the page.

---

What would hardware-heads think of normal human-made hardware? Would it be creepy to them? If an Alliance camera saw a human-made CCTV camera on a pole, would that be disturbing because it's like a severed head? Or would it be fine because it's clearly a different thing from themselves? Or maybe it would be funny like a Halloween decoration, in the same way we might be amused by a funny skull on display.

---

The Titans' brains are so colossal and powerful that they could do Bitcoin-mining calculations in their heads just for fun.

---

Part 1 | Part 2 | Feel free to add more!

[broomsick]

I finally took the time to finish (pardon the pun) reading the Kalevala Crawford translation! Here's the link to the online cache, for those interested.

One of my favorite passages:

Lemminkainen, much dejected, Broken-hearted, flushed with anger, Spake these words in measured accents: “Mother dear, my gray-haired mother, Wilt thou straightway wash my linen In the blood of poison-serpents, In the black blood of the adder? I must hasten to the combat, To the camp-fires of the Northland, To the battle-fields of Lapland; To the village went Kyllikki, To the play of merry maidens, To the games and village dances, With the maids of braided tresses.”

Straightway speaks the wife, Kyllikki: “My beloved husband, Ahti, Do not go to war, I pray thee. In the evening I lay sleeping, Slumbering I saw in dream-land Fire upshooting from the chimney, Flames arising, mounting skyward, From the windows of this dwelling, From the summits of these rafters, Piercing through our upper chambers, Roaring like the fall of waters, Leaping from the floor and ceiling, Darting from the halls and doorways.”

[mspinky1]

TARI.EXE (Puzzlevision Corruption)

I'm not even kidding, I had a dream where that TV guy and Tari have some sort of connection and kidnapped her so she becomes his property again, forcing the SMG4 gang to go through endless unwanted simulations to entertain him. I've been thinking about that dream repeatedly, and ever since Western Spaghetti I did want there to be some sort of connection. Can't wait to see more of TV Guy (or Puzzlevision as it says on his face). Also, the background text are just command prompt text, or rather Tari's programming. I've been finding so many examples of how to do program writing.... or coding? Idk lol. At some point my brain just stopped working. Anyways, i'll put below what the text says, and if you pay attention to the numbers in the written sequence, you'll see some hidden detail (Hint: The numbers are episode dates).

Background Text:

TASCORP Windows [Version 17.6.02023]

(c) 2023 TASCORP Corporation. All rights reserved.

C: \Users\TARI>ipconfig/flushDNS

Windows IP Configuration

Successfully flushed the DNS Resolver Cache.

C: \>taskkill /f /im TARI.exe

SUCCESS : The process "TARI.exe" with PID 250818 has been terminated.

C: \>winge install "Puzzlevision SIM"

Found Puzzlevision SIM [TASCORP.Puzzlevision SIM] Version 28.10.23

This application is licensed to you by its owner.

TASCORP is not responsible for, nor does it grant any licenses to, third-party packages.

Downloading https://puzzlevisionsiminstall.net.com/stable/smg4/Setup-v28.10.23.exe

90.0 MB / 90.0 MB

Successfully verified installer hash

Starting Package install . . .

Successfully installed

X: \windows\system23>cd C: \Windows\system23

C: \windows\system23>systemreset

PUZZLEVISION SIMUL. Windows

Copyright (C) Puzzlevision Corporation. All rights reserved.

C: \WINDOWS\system23>sfc /scannow

Beginning system scan. This process will take some time.

Beginning verification phase of system scan.

Verification 100% complete.

Puzzlevision Resource Protection found corrupt files and successfully repaired them.

Puzzlevision Resource Protection did not find any integrity violations.

[dairy-farmer]

what do you think about clarktim? tim cheating on conner with his daddy for example or tim cheating on bruce with his own best friend… after sleeping with tim once when he was just a child, clark can never resist tim’s little cunnie. the size difference between clark’s 12 inch kryptonian cock vs tim’s extremely underaged pussy drives him crazy… i love tim getting groomed 💙

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ahhhhhh!!!!!!!!! clarktim is so good!!!! i've only vaguely written about it once in a fic and a little bit here on tumblr but it is soo good!!!!!1 i love the idea of clark having fucked tim when he was a kid. he was freshly robin and trying to prove to bruce he could trust him!! somehow "alien tech" ends up in gotham and superman is also tracing it and he's recently had a fight with bruce and he's not looking for another argument so he's being discrete and well technically the shipment was just outside gotham borders in a warehouse so it's not really batman's jurisdiction- but that warehouse is where tim also ends up. the two of them after spotting each other and doing the whole 'mouths "what are you doing here?" from across the room' find out its not alien tech that was being bought and sold. it was alien drugs. aphrodisiacs. they end up getting drugged while investigating the hidden storage cache containing it and its like ivy's pollen but dialed up to a million and capable of affecting even superman.

the two of them recall the night with startling clarity despite the haziness of what happened. clark especially recalls it, as much as he tries to shove the thoughts and memories away. he can remember his monstrous cock resting on tim's abdomen reaching all the way to a little above his belly button and staring down at tim as his little hands jacked him off, getting him to hardness while clark's fingers fucked and spread apart into a 'V' in tim's little hole. the opening was barely the size of a quarter. it must've been the drugs because tim was so wet he coated clarks entire hand in wetness. the drugs also must've had some muscle relaxant and numbing effect because clark was able to sink in the head of his cock with barely a sound from tim who arched up his naked chest to clark who scattered kisses all across his little breasts, gently sucking on a pink little nipple as he rocked his cock in deeper and deeper into a hot, tight little hole. clark was just too big for tim, if he tried bottoming out he might actually kill him so he contents himself with the sight of being able to fuck a third of his cock in before it got to be too much and tim's forehead cutely scrunched up.

tim's sweet pink mouth fell open and he gasped at each press in of clark's cock, the spongey head kissed the opening to tim's womb. clark groaned at the sight, using his x-ray vision to look down at where he was fucking tim's pretty baby cunt. clark moaned as he watched the fat head of his cock drooling white precum and smeared it against the hot pink of tim's cervix. the lips of tim's cunt were a distressed red flush, a result from the painful stretch of clark's girth and the burning friction of every harsh thrust into him. tim's hands were spread helplessly at his side, his head rolling back and forth as his sweet mouth let out the prettiest sounds at clark fucking him.

the memories of what occurred in that warehouse haunt clark for years to come.

they never tell anyone.

clark out of shame and tim out of the desire for bruce to not know how badly he'd screwed up. sometimes clark will wake up from a dream and be hard and he'll do his best to imagine anyone but tim. his wife, a model he had a crush on as a teenager, old classmates, other capes.

but in the end all he can think about is pulling tim's green robin leggings off and being greeted by a little pink naked pussy that he promptly leaves gaping open and dripping with his heavy, white cum.

when they both came back to their senses on that concrete floor clark immediatly broke into near tears with how hard he started breathing and apologizing and self-flagellating. tim assured him it was alright. he said it hadn't been clark's fault. but clark hadn't believed him. he'd wanted to take responsibility, make up for it.

and tim had gotten this...this odd look in his eye that reminded clark uncomfortably of the look on bruce's face when something went right according to plan. somehow...tim made him promise to not tell batman, he told clark that batman could never know how badly tim screwed up.

maybe it was the drugs still in his system but clark agreed and shakily helped them both clean up and get dressed.

clark flew tim to gotham and dropped him off behind a convenience store where clark bought him a chocolate bar, a soda, and... a morning-after pill on tim's insistence. only that when clark gets up to the register to pay he doesn't have enough money. thankfully tim lent him the remaining amount.

clark felt like the ground could swallow him up with the shame he felt standing in line as tim put down a handfull of twenties but its the shame that stops the indignance from bleeding through when he realized the cashier wasn't even blinking at clark, a grown man, buying a morning after pill for tim, who was clearly a child.

gotham was a horrifying place.

tim swears him to secrecy in that parking lot and clark, in his shame, swears to never tell, believing he's doing the right thing.

but a few years later and clark still never forgets. neither does tim. maybe that's how they wind up fucking everytime they cross paths.

in the watchtower when batman brings him or when red robin is meant to lend a hand they inevitably seek each other out like two homing missiles. clark has superspeed and superhearing and its not hard for him to find them somewhere private both on the watchtower or off. even when tim and superboy, clark's pseudo son begin dating it continues.

bruce has made his displeasure at his son and clark's "son's" relationship known many times and clark is certain he would be even more displeased to know what clark was doing. so he stays quiet about regularly fucking tim's little pussy and asking him if his cock feels as good as conner's.

clark keeps quiet because he never loses the shame he feels at his and tim's affair. he's friends with tim's father, he's conner's father-

if ma or pa ever knew they'd be so disappointed. dick, bruce, and so many others would be so disappointed and conner- he'd be so hurt to know clark was fucking the boyfriend he loved so much, the one he talked to clark about marrying, about having a baby with.

it would ruin too much. destroy too much.

so clark, like the first time it happened in that remote warehouse, says nothing.

[may-extensioncharm]

anonymous  asked:

what addons do you use for firefox? i've just downloaded it to switch from chrome (derogatory)

somecunttookmyurl  answered:

firefox (affectionate)

UBlock Origin obviously. out-the-box works just fine but has a bunch of extra privacy/tracking/spam filters you can enable

Decentraleyes protects you against tracking through “free” curated content delivery and works alongside UBlock (or any of the other common adblocking addons)

I Don’t Care About Cookies good for EU users where GDPR made it so every site ever in the universe asks you to accept cookies and privacy terms seventeen times a day. will just auto-accept for you. never see an annoying popup again! but only use in conjunction with…

Cookie Auto Delete does what it says on the tin. will automatically flush cookies, cache, and data when you close a tab. those cookies you just auto accepted? they’re gone now. whitelist any sites you wanna stay logged in on and let the rest fucking perish

Don’t Track Me Google removes that annoying link conversion when you copy google results. you know when it changes from “site.com” to “encrypted.google.com/randomnonsensefor200charactersblahblahblah”? yeah. this stops that happening. fuck off, google.

Don’t Accept image/webp blocks sites from using the most useless file extension known to mankind so you can save as .jpg or .gif as god intended. fuck webp. seriously. what even is that.

Bypass Paywalls Clean exactly what you think it is

HTTPS Everywhere automatically adds ecrypted security to any site that supports https (you can do this manually by adding the s yourself to any url but… who can be fuckin bothere amirite? this does it for you)

New XKit …duh

Google Search Filter allows you to remove domains from your searches forever. pinterest? gone. weheartit? nuked. also works on duckduckgo. never type “-pinterest” into a search again.

Simple Tab Groups allows you to group tabs together and shove them out of sight, which is nice if you’re researching something and don’t want 50 bajillion jstor tabs clogging up your normal browsing session

[theeyoungalabastor]

Here is a sneak peek at what is to come for the FNAF SB reader insert book!

You were in its territory.

A shuddering breath leaks past the gaps between your trembling fingers. Palms clammy and slick with sweat.

Hysteria vibrated your numbed nerves as yet another savage growl rumbles somewhere from inside the thing's chest, a wild animalistic hiss squeezing from its voice box; thunderous footsteps shook the ground with a clash of metal against metal, instilling terror into your core, leadening your cumbersome limbs with perturbation.

Both ears rang deafeningly as blood rushed to each eardrum, making your head feel unnaturally lighter, muting the artificial sounds of crickets and frog songs that play overhead from the speakers.

"Where are you~" Its gravelly voice sang with a sickly-sweet tune that broke the barrier of sonorous as this rabid dread-filled game of hide and seek drew farther. But the predator drew closer.

The pungent smell of mildew wafted the naturally muggy air to compliment the aesthetic to which the expanse presented. Lush green carpeting lined beneath your feet, the patterns adorned the themed animatronic, to who, coincidentally, stalked the shadows within the vastness of the space where you had foolishly hemmed yourself in, searching for its prey.

You were stuck, trapped; hidden behind a flimsy display, the massive cardboard cutout of your aggressor's head was laid lax against a red and green wall, patterned with leafy palms as the giftshop's name hung not far from your cache, unique neon colors glaring heatedly, illuminating the room with ferocity.

A few gnashing lusters of neon light line your face, trembling fingers that gripped your mouth lit with the nauseating colors as you peek from behind a display, shelf nestled flush against the very same wall the cutout that concealed your figure leaned upon.

Your stomach dropped.

Only then did you grow acutely aware of the screaming, tense silence that befell the room you sought refuge in.

You don't recall hearing it leave, nor do you remember seeing those rage filled eyes disappear from the dark corners of the thing's berth.

And it was just then that you noticed the room fall into an abnormal shadow.

It was too late to pull back farther behind the cardboard as two vermillion eyes peer from beneath a pair of distinctly rimmed star glasses. Tufts of artificial red hair dancing with the gales of shallow breaths that weasel past your dry cracked lips.

You pressed your sweat-dampened palm closer to your mouth, an attempt to stifle the whimper that unwillingly was drawn from your throat.

His snout looked to form a twisted grin as his head tilts to the side in a single smooth motion, too fluent to belong to that of a hulking animatronic.

Another beastial hiss tumbles from his jaws, sounding from the back of his throat, echoing within the empty confines of his metal chest.

At the sound of his voice, a sob tore from your esophagus.

"I found you."

[serensama]

In Sacrifice, Glory: Chapter 4

As always, my thanks and love to @illneverrecover and @femme-moon <3 My sincerest thanks to the insanely talented @ashalle-art who created such a wonderful piece more than 2 years ago for this (yes, I have been meaning to write this story for 2 years, it's been a whole thing). I have another piece she made to accompany this, but will be posted in a later chapter.

Read on Ao3

If Elissa never saw the Hinterlands again, it would be too soon. 

Whilst she did love the time she got to spend with her fellow Inquisition members, the Hinterlands served as a reminder of how monumental the task before her was. It never ended. Whenever one problem was fixed, three more popped up- like some bureaucratic hydra. 

Upon meeting Mother Giselle and seeing the damage the fighting had done to both sides and everyone caught in between, Elissa could not help but do whatever she could to assist them. They wandered the expanse of the countryside to find randomly stored caches for much needed supplies, helped to hunt different types of game for their pelts and meat to provide for the Mother’s patients and the refugees the Inquisition had already claimed as temporary charges. 

Cassandra had tried to impress upon her that time was of the essence; that they should focus on acquiring Master Dennett’s horses so they could then travel to Val Royeaux and address the clerics congregating there like Mother Giselle advised. She was promptly shut down when Elissa had given her a hard, unmoving stare. “If we cannot spare a week to look after these people, to ensure they live well and are not forgotten, is there any point in fixing the sky?” 

The Seeker flushed and said no more on the matter.  

Still a part of her had wished she listened, if she had perhaps she would not have had to withstand the country for so long, endured all the trials that the cursed land threw at her. From the hostility between the Mages and Templars which spanned across every corner of the land and made each of their endeavours perilous, their team having to fight their way out of their crossfire every other day. To the many, many rifts that littered the sky in between Redcliffe and Haven. A damned dragon and her bastard offspring. Being allergic to a specific type of grass which popped up everywhere in the Hinterlands. And Bears. 

Bloody. Fucking. Bloody. Shit. Bears. Bloody. Bears. 

She had to believe that there was never a time in her life pre-Conclave that she thought she would be more afraid of bears and tall grass than a High Dragon. And truth be told she wasn’t actually so much afraid of the tall grass but more wary- after all for the first week of their journey she could barely see anything through her itchy eyes, and often risked giving away their location by her sneezes time and again. Thankfully the most foreboding party who happened upon them were heavily armoured Templar deserters who were not expecting a fledgling mage to electrocute them with her fifth consecutive sneeze. Varric had begged Solas to stop their nightly lessons after seeing that.

‘Come on Chuckles think of it, the Herald of Andraste punishing the non-believers with the wrath of her nose. The Chantry’s gonna love it!” 

Elissa had no idea what she would have done without Solas by her side. He taught her how to properly call upon her power and harness it into purposeful attacks, and whilst she was still certainly classified as a novice, she could now cast some very powerful spells. “Look Varric! I actually set that mage on fire... and on purpose!” 

“That a girl Stormy, now do you mind setting those other mages on fire, on purpose, too?” 

The apostate took every opportunity to teach her something, wasting no chance to impart some kind of wisdom to the young mage. When they had confirmed she was in fact allergic to a specific type of grass; he had taken her aside to teach her how to identify Spindleweed and Elfroot and then instructed her how to harvest and store the herbs to create a basic tincture to help fend off her symptoms. He spoke of other plants as he skilfully drew them in the dirt, Prophet's Laurel, Embrium and Arbor Blessing along with many more he promised to point out to her should their travels ever take them to the places where they grew. 

He even showed her things she would have never thought about, such as collecting sap from specific trees, boiling them down and adding some jam for a special sweet treat. Alternatively he told her she could add mint to the mixture to make a gummy type of candy that could keep quite well and help ward off hunger when eaten and also freshen one’s breath. Why the apostate hadn’t thought to market this idea to the masses she didn’t know, but she was grateful for something to nibble on as they travelled the long roads. 

After each battle he would quickly show her how she could adapt her stances to wield magic more effectively whilst she also fought with her staff, always pleasantly surprised at how quickly she took adding melee aspects into her casting- noting many classically educated mages preferred to stay far from the fight, and just wave their staff at the general vicinity of the enemy as they stood still. “Perhaps you too were an apostate, Da'len, the way you fight- you certainly were not a circle mage,” he had mentioned more than once during their journey.  

“Solas, considering how terrible I was before you started teaching me, I’m willing to believe I’ve had no training whatsoever. I am also willing to believe that I was such a shitty mage that no one in any Circle could teach me; so they just let me play in the corner with the leftover sticks they couldn’t use to make the circle’s staves, just hoping I’d accidentally stab myself.” 

“Oh that imagination of yours, I hope you never lose it Elissa.” 

It was not only Solas who took a strong interest in her tutelage during their time on the road. Cassandra had keenly watched them as the elf trained her in the arcane arts, the Seeker in her unable to sit still when so much magic could be felt in the air around her. As the days turned into weeks she could see the impressive amount of improvement the mage had accomplished; her once unsteady form and mana, now fixed and concentrated. 

The older woman promptly acknowledged her aptitude for physical combat and insisted that she also learn how to fight and defend herself should she run out of mana on the field. Elissa was thankful for the lessons but believed it was just a means for the Seeker to relieve herself of pent up tension from spending endless hours with Varric with no sight of escape, and no plausible alibi for ‘accidentally’ murdering him. Unlike Elissa’s training with Solas, melee came to her much more naturally. She was able to read Cassandra’s moves and understood her instructions more readily as if she was merely rehashing a lesson already learned, or rearranging something within her mind- instead of building everything up from scratch like she had to when it came to magic. 

“One would think you have been trained in combat before, Herald,” Cassandra said as she twisted her wrist, her long sword cutting the air beside her in figure eights. 

“Maybe I have,” Elissa replied, shrugging as her eyes continued to follow the sword’s path. “The only things I’ve managed to remember in the last two weeks, even with Solas helping me, is I have always loathed insects and the fact that I have eaten at the Spoiled Princess inn at the Lake Calenhad docks. I staunchly advise that no one ever eats there, or even in the near vicinity of it, ever again.” 

“Ahh not to worry Stormy, you got your old buddy Varric here to help figure things out,” the archer said from the sidelines, causing Cassandra to snort ungracefully. “Do not believe the little imp Herald,” she warned as she tried to feign a shield bash to catch Elissa off guard. “His offer for assistance is merely a mask, a ruse to get any information out of you so he can write it into his next novel.” 

“Whaaat? I am here only ever to serve the Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste,” he bowed as he remained seated, earning him a raised middle finger from Elissa. “Look if I can help you and you can help me, isn’t that the very essence of teamwork? True collaboration?” he queried with what he hoped was a trustworthy expression. 

Cassandra managed to knock over her pupil and sat back down on a tree stump, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Elissa groaned and eased herself to her side as she lay limply on the ground, trying her best to not throw up one of her lungs. “So... true collaboration huh?” she quoted, one eyebrow raised at the dwarf. He asserted his agreement once more and Elissa stood up with her hand held out to him to shake on it. “So this means we split the profits equally then?” 

Varric chuckled and pulled his hand back, laughing harder when Cassandra pointed at him with a great resounding “AHA!”, Solas grinning as he looked between them all. 

“Ah shit Stormy, I am but a simple author-” “You are very well off you conniving little-” “...I am living between the royalties of my books at the moment you see, Herald...”  “Master Tethras, did you not say before we met Elissa in the valley that you owned the largest rooms in the best tavern in Kirkwall?” 

“-and with me being sequestered away in Ferelden, held against my will and unable to work-” “I wish you would leave already but you will not go until I find out where Hawke is-” “-in fact you told me you had ties within the Carta, the merchants guilds and even the nobility in the Free Marches. You offered me safe harbour with you if things turned sideways here for mages, particularly apostates-”

“The point is Stormy,” he ground out, casting sidelong glances at both Solas and Cassandra who were still talking amongst themselves, one sentence short from seemingly pulling out his personal ledgers and telling the entire Hinterlands his exact net worth down to the last copper. “I am here for you, story or no story. Are you happy now you animals?” he chided, with a large grin pulling at his mouth. 

And true to his word, Varric was not left behind by his comrades in his assistance to the newest addition to the Inquisition; he spent the days and nights trying to fill in the last few years that their mysterious new friend was missing. He was more than delighted to know that she had no idea about his escapades with Hawke and their Kirkwall crew, much to Cassandra’s chagrin. He spent countless hours detailing their adventures from the day he met the Hawke siblings up until his fateful encounter with the Seeker and Spymaster. 

“... And then Choir Boy made Hawke choose whether to end Blondie’s life, or risk the fury of the man on his way to reclaiming his throne...” Varric said sadly from across the fire one night, when Elissa had asked the fates of his friends back home. 

“Oh my goodness, did she do it?” Elissa asked, both hands cradling her chin as she listened to the dwarf, both Solas and Cassandra listening intently from their bedrolls. 

Varric smiled mirthlessly and looked into her eyes, unable to continue. The young woman gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, large eyes misting up with what he was silently implying. “No!” she breathed, shaking her head from side to side. “No, she couldn’t have! Anders was her friend from the very first! It would have been like... like killing you!”

“Yes but Stormy, his actions caused the deaths of so many people, murdered the Grand Cleric Elthina-” “But he had saved so many people and he was pushed right to the edge of reason! I could never condone his actions, but wouldn’t it have been better to have made him atone for his sins? Made him right his wrongs?” she asked, unable to fathom having to choose whether someone you loved lived or died. “Death is so final, with his gifts he could have done so much more good.” “I do not believe the Champion killed him either, Varric,” Cassandra said as she polished her breastplate, dark eyes focused on the storyteller. “By all accounts they could not find the Grey Warden’s body and some even said that he was seen sneaking aboard a ship... heading to Rivain.”

Varric shrugged and rubbed his hands together as he warmed himself against the fire, firmly avoiding his gaze from Cassandra, a self-satisfied grin playing across his stubbled face as he heard her scoff.  “I guess you will believe whatever it is you want to believe, Seeker. All I can tell you, is that was the day Marian Hawke’s heart broke for the last time- Anders was gone and she despised Sebastian for making her choose,” he replied before excusing himself and retiring for the evening. 

Elissa had quickly followed him to bed after she bid everyone a good night to think over the sorrowful tale of the Champion of Kirkwall. She faced such impossible odds, experienced such tragedy but still she had managed to hold everything together. It gave her a perverse sense of hope, if Hawke could do that with the limited resources her and her ragtag adopted family had- surely she and the Inquisition had to have similar odds. She was almost able to fall asleep when one final intrusive thought managed to wheedle itself into the forefront of her mind, if you had to kill one of your friends now to keep the peace... could you do it?

If she was lucky, the Breach would kill her before she had to make that choice. 

--- 

The wooden barricade around the settlement at Haven was a welcome sight to the four weary travellers. After almost a month and a half away, Elissa wanted nothing more than to kiss the guard who opened the gates to them and then run into the tavern and promise to bear the children of the first person who got her a slice of freshly baked bread with lashings of butter. She wondered if she was previously living like a nomad and if she actually enjoyed it- as it was she was ready to offer her soul just to be able to sleep in a bed and have baths without the threat of fish staring up at her lady bits at any given time. 

Her friends must have felt the same as their steps picked up as soon as they entered the encampment, only pausing briefly when they realised she had stopped to take a cutting of an Elfroot plant that she had hoped to practise with, earning her a proud smile from her elven tutor.  They all said their temporary farewells as they all spread out to settle back into their camp routine, all excited to take some time for themselves before the next journey was upon them. 

Elissa held the freshly cut plant in her hands as she took the path back to the main camp at a leisurely pace, enjoying the clean air only the mountains could offer, relieved to be completely free of the sputum inducing flora of her recent travels. She had passed the armoury and said hello to the smithy workers and was pleased to see the first lot of horses that Master Dennett must have sent ahead of him and the rest of the herd. She pet the closest one to her recognising it as the horse Master Dennett had kindly offered to give her during her time in the Hinterlands, but she found it embarrassing if she was the only one to be able to ride whilst her companions remained on foot. Elissa admired its rich chocolate coat, not aware that the sneaky thing had nipped at her newly acquired plant and had chewed on half of it. “You little sneak! You seemed so sweet and unassuming- you just wanted my elfroot! You absolute charlatan!” she chided her as softly tapped it on its muzzle with her finger before nuzzling it playfully. “Charlotte, that will be your name! To remind me of your sneaky ways!”

The stablehand chuckled at her and agreed with her assessment. He told Elissa that if one didn’t keep their wits about them around this mare, she would charm them and then steal the shirt off their back and think it a snack. Literally. Grinning as she tucked away the half eaten plant inside her pack, she gave the horse one last rub down before turning around towards the main camp entrance. 

Elissa hadn’t noticed it before, but the clang of swords on shields was far more boisterous than when she had left. She let her eyes drift over the army and even without taking a proper headcount, she could see a large increase in their numbers. All of them as green as the gash in the sky, but their good intentions were evident. She found herself instantly drawn to the sparring soldiers, a visceral need to be in the thick of it all with the people fighting on their side. Most of the men at arms jumped out of the way when they noticed her, doing their utmost to not hurt their Herald of Andraste with their clumsy movements. Elissa had spied Cassandra speaking to a Templar across the field but it was a flash of red from the corner of eye that caught her attention and urged most of the rational thoughts from her mind.

Oh Blessed be the Maker- had the Commander always been that handsome? She specifically remembered him being attractive the last time she saw him but had he always been that bloody gorgeous? She couldn’t remember any of her previous attachments prior to waking up in Haven, but she certainly hoped they all looked like him. Tall and strong with classically chiselled features, the wonderful spattering of stubble across his cheeks and jaw... good gracious she was probably drooling. Elissa mentally slapped herself for staring at him like he was a piece of meat for her to devour, it was positively shameful! She just chalked it up to her seeing him in a different setting. Normally she would be standing across from him at the map room table instead of the scene that played out before her today; him amidst a field of soldiers, exuding a different aura from what she was already accustomed to. He was always polite, reserved and measured and now that part of his character was juxtaposed beautifully against this other Cullen- a man who could easily be the decorated General for the King’s forces. She knew she would have followed him with the blind faith that he was leading her to victory. 

He had walked out further into the training yard with his head bent as he reviewed a missive and handed it back to a scout. He stopped beside one of the soldiers overlooking the training and was quick to point out where one young recruit wasn’t adhering to the exercise. 

“You there! There’s a shield in your hand, block with it. If this man were your enemy you’d be dead,” he barked out startling the man into doing what he was told. Cullen addressed the lieutenant to continue on the drills and to not let anyone take it easy on each other, no enemy would show them mercy and so they should be prepared accordingly, or why bother training them at all? It would be far more efficient just to shepherd them towards the enemy and let them be massacred. 

Elissa had not realised she was standing there just observing the Commander from just outside of his periphery and cursed herself, there was no way she hadn’t been seen ogling at the man and she just wished her mark would open up and swallow her whole. She could start to feel her heartbeat speed up at the thought of Varric or Solas hearing about this and teasing her mercilessly. She could envision it so clearly, the trek to Val Royeaux would be just them incessantly teasing her about her very one sided crush- no- attraction to their Commander. 

Regaining her senses she took a step backwards hoping to make a speedy retreat before the man realised she was staring at him, only to have him glance backwards in her direction, doing a double take at the sight of her. If she was truly Andraste’s blessed miracle child, perhaps Cullen would think she was merely coming toward him instead of retreating like the little coward she truly was. 

“Welcome back, apologies I didn’t realise that you and the team were already back from the Hinterlands,” he greeted her kindly. At the sight of his wonderful honey toned eyes focusing on her, she found she couldn’t speak. She had to scoff at Leliana. Her? Push boundaries? Flirt with some noble in a Chantry? The woman was mad. Cullen took her silence in stride and nodded towards the field of tents, more than doubled than when she had left. “We’ve received a number of recruits – locals from Haven and some pilgrims. None made quite the entrance you did,” he ribbed her gently, his soft smile pulling at the scar on his lip and somehow making him look even more dashing than before. It shouldn't have been allowed. Somewhere in Thedas, this was illegal, she just knew it. 

“At least I got everyone’s attention,” she replied with a little more sass than she had expected. “It seemed it worked, look at everyone here come to see the woman with the season’s most exclusive new fashion trend,” she joked, holding up her left hand with the mark peeking through the dark leather of her gloves. 

The Commander chuckled and shook his head, trying to preserve a stalwart demeanour around his recruits; the last thing he needed was for people to think he was some besotted school boy mooning over the woman who was on her way to being exalted as the second coming of Andraste (by the people- Maker not the Chantry, never the Chantry). 

No matter how lovely he thought she was. 

“And how about you Commander, how did you find yourself leading the Inquisition’s forces? Was it the Breach that called you here or was it another reason?” she queried, tilting her head to the side like a curious child, or perhaps like a woman tempting someone to notice the smooth expanse of her cheek and neck. 

“I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself. I was there during the mage uprising – I saw firsthand the devastation it caused. Cassandra sought a solution so when she offered me a position, I left the templars to join her cause. Now it seems we face something far worse,” he shared as he let his head fall back to look up at the Breach. 

Elissa tried to picture him in between the warring factions, tried to reconcile the idea of him being at Kirkwall with Varric and Hawke, the three of them caught in between the brutal battle. She could only imagine how torn he must have felt during those days; did he continue to side with the Templars or protect the mages. It must have felt impossible then. She could only venture to think how he must have felt standing there with her against even greater odds. 

“You’re right, everything is a mess but... I do believe that this mark will help, it just has to,” she stressed, closing her left fist to enclose the glow within her grasp.  

“Provided that we can secure aid- but I’m confident we can especially with the reports that have been coming in from our camps in the Hinterlands. You’ve managed to accomplish quite a lot out there in a short time Herald,” he complimented her, genuinely impressed with what she was able to do and the lengths she went to to assist both the people and the Inquisition.  

“Oh you’re a sweet talker, perhaps we should send you out there instead of me, Commander,” she teased, her tone causing him to pause. No, that was just him hearing things, surely. He cleared his throat and tightened his arms around himself to get a physical grip on himself. Perhaps he’d been out in the cold for too long and his ears were playing tricks on him. 

“I would think me heading out there would cost us any potential aid, and possibly any we have previously secured.” “You’re selling yourself far too short, Commander,” Elissa reproved him, lightly knocking into him with her shoulder. He glanced down at her as he was gently pushed back and fought not to do the same back to her; she was only in light armour, he'd most likely push the mage into the snow and face admonishment for quite literally rough housing with the Herald of Andraste. 

“You’ve helped to build the Inquisition into what it is today, do not discount your efforts Ser.” 

Cullen puffed out his breath at the mention of Ser, it had been years since anyone had called him that. And many more since it was anything at all positive. 

“The Chantry lost control of both templars and mages,” he started, his mind focused on past failures, mostly his own. “And now? They argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains. The Inquisition could act when the Chantry cannot and our followers would be a part of that. There’s so much we can-” Cullen cut himself off, embarrassed that he was about to diatribe in front of the Herald. “Forgive me, you have just arrived and I doubt that you came here for a lecture.” 

Elissa self-consciously smoothed down her braid, suddenly very aware that she probably looked and smelled of the road, but she didn’t want him to think that he was burdening her by opening up to her.

“No but I’ve learned that I am quite the student, so if you do have one prepared I would love to hear it,” she returned with a noticeable breathiness that he definitely did not invent. He was left completely taken aback and could only stammer unintelligently and coughed into his hand. 

Meanwhile, Elissa wanted to die. 

She didn’t just push boundaries, she eradicated them entirely. 

Flirt with Teagan in the Chantry? She was thoroughly surprised Leliana didn't say she just jumped on the poor Bann and rode him into the ground right in front of the Revered Mother.

Cullen cleared his throat again unsure of how to respond or truly if he should respond; she was the Herald and he would never deem to think he’d be someone she would be interested in, even if she had meant it to sound that way. He saw a soldier approaching him with what looked like to be a large dispatch for him to review and thanked the Maker he had a reason to gracefully exit and not make himself look even more foolish.         

“There’s still a lot of work ahead and I will not keep you from getting some much needed rest before you’re duty bound to do more.” “Commander! Ser Rylen has a report on our supply lines,” the soldier advised, passing the report to him before saluting to them both. “As I was saying,” Cullen retorted as he offered her a wry grin and held up the new mountain of work just given to him. He bowed ever so slightly and excused himself to leave Elissa watching after him, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. 

She looked back down at her hand and unfurled her fingers, the green seeping through once more and cursed under her breath. “Really, the one time I want you to kill me you just sit there and let me run my wanton mouth- what use are you?”

—

Cullen could feel her eyes follow him away and did his utmost not to turn around, petrified if he did he’d look back and turn a magnificent shade of scarlet. He was just grateful Rylen wasn’t there to give him the report in person otherwise his friend would be absolutely relentless. The idea of the Herald of Andraste potentially flirting- with him- was more than he could understand. It seemed much more likely that she was being nice and he was reading far too much into nothing.  

Still… he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he had seen that look on her face before, though he couldn’t understand how. He’d only seen her a handful of times before her departure for the Hinterlands and there was never any time that he had seen her blush like that or the way her eyes seemed completely focused on him as if he were the moon and the stars. Looking at him as if the moon and the stars were good enough to eat. 

The Commander signed off on another report when he caught one of the templars leaning over one of the new recruits, a young woman, pretty enough to catch more than one lad’s eye that was for sure. The templar leaned in closer and whispered something into the girl’s ear which had her giggle and slap him on the shoulder playfully. And just like that, he remembered where he had seen that look on the Herald of Andraste’s face before. 

On the second floor of the circle tower, at Kinloch Hold. 

The small group who had come to save them had decided to stay a couple of days to properly recoup and regroup after the fight with Uldred and the other abominations. Understandable and considering what they had done for them, the very least they could do. The First Enchanter and Knight Commander Greagoir had even cleaned up one of the nicer rooms to ensure their guests were comfortable during their stay.  

He was still so angry then, he could only remember how furious he was at her for potentially letting out such a threat to the world. So when he was completing his duties by patrolling the third floor and he came across a couple in the corner of the deserted hallway, he saw red. Was it blood magic at work again? Was it some sick ritual they were performing in the dead of the night to finish them off? 

No. It was just the Grey Wardens in a private moment, standing outside of their company’s communal rooms to have an intimate conversation. He had barely paid them any mind, too busy cursing at her to pay too much attention- and yet- 

As he walked up to them he knew that neither of them would even realise that he was there. Cullen could see that Alistair had his left arm propped up against the stone wall and leaned forward as far as he could without his armour crushing into hers.  His free hand held her jaw as his thumb stroked her cheek, gently moving her head from side to side as he closely examined her to ensure they didn’t miss any untreated wounds. The way she stared up at him and only him as if nothing else in the world could matter more than the man before her… her expression of adoration blended with her hunger for more… Maker’s breath. 

Could she really be the same Elissa? 

No. No, of course not. He was being ridiculous. He was just reading too much into nothing again. He had to be. 

Chapter 5