#goddamn engines are hard to draw

[cevherien]

Abby Anderson.

Fucking you on her motorcycle ☺️

tags: no need to sugarcoat anything she eats you out on her motorbike, semi public sex, she's kinda rough with it, dom/sub undertones.

You were riding on Abby's motorbike, been so needy lately but she was a busy woman, so you weren't able to play around as you'd like. You had missed her touch, the way her muscles would flex when she had her strong hold on your flesh. But now you were alone, well on the road, no less. Your tits behind the flimsy material of the shirt you were wearing pressed against her back as you hold onto her.

Arms wrapped around her lower belly, playing dangerous but it was worth it, traffic safety be damned you were fucking dripping for this woman, head too fuzzy for consequences.

She was taking you to a friends house or whatever, you weren't listening when she told you that, instead you were busy grinding yourself on the seat of the bike like a pathetic little slut, but you pay no mind to such labels anymore. I mean if the shoe fits.

But you weren't completely stupid, obviously, so you wait like a good girl for a red light to strike, your hand drawing closer to her parted thighs once she stops the ride you are onto her.

"Abby-" delicate fingers playing with the material of her pants, near her inner thighs earning a surprised gasp from her. And as if taking that as your cue you press against her further and cup her clothed pussy.

She involuntarily drops her head back, with a heavy whine she spells out "What are you doing-?"

"You know exactly what," you apply pressure with two fingers on where you know her clit to be under those layers.

"Are you out of your mind-" her hips rise a little to gain more friction from your palm involuntarily, you take your hand away just to be a little shit. Making her groan at the lost.

"Maybe i am," but before you can do much else the green light is on and your time is up. She pushes on the engine and you almost fall back with the momentum, barely finding the time to hold back to her. "Whoa- hey- hey" maybe she was the crazy one.

Now you weren't the only one playing said dangerous game, her's were deadly though, nowhere near close to your little teases of cat and mouse. You realize she's changed routes, and her grasp on the handlebar lever a little too strong for the speed limit.

"Wait where are we even-" she cuts you before you can finish.

"We will play what you want, how you want bunny."

Abby pulls near a back alley, without telling you anything she spins you around and you brace yourself against the stone wall of the shady corner, only support being her motorcycle.

"Acting like a cheap whore will only get you so far you know," she gives a little slap at your butt, so rudely "Good thing i'm here, yeah?"

Goddamn, seeing her mean like this was something new, but fuck was it a welcome surprise. You whine then, she presses you further into the wall with your cheeks squashed and her hand on your ass.

Abby's next move was simple, pulling your pants down together with your underwear, bunching at your bent knees, leaving you open on display. The cold air of both the alley and reality of being bare in public, well, semi public but still, was making you drip down hard.

Abby kneels down, presses her face to your cunt, laps at your slick as if honey, only getting you wetter. Eating pussy from behind felt dirtier, cheap.

She spreads your lips to lick deeper into your wet hole, teething on your slick pearly clit. Kissing your puffy lips and playing on your rim, she knew how you liked it best.

Well she also knew she had to keep it short, unfortunately. If it was up to her she'd keep you open on display like this and lick you clean until you were out of it and spent, but alas, you were getting your ass ate in a back alley for fucks sake.

Her tongue continue it's magic for some more, enough to get you off for two times, your hole leaking down like some fountain of youth.

But before giving you the pleasure of a third orgasm she pulls back, slaps your pussy from the back and pulls your pants back up. A needy whine slips your lips while you move your hips together to feel better. That was not enough.

As if reading your mind, "Look at the mess," trust she was no different under those clothes, "We'll continue later baby, when we get back."

Yeah and when you do get back, she'd split you apart with her eight inch strap, well lubed up and well pampered until you can't remember ever feeling so needy.

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Hello.

Listen, I'm still not over ep 11 yet. AND THEN THEY GIVE ME THIS I- *muffled screaming*

Anyways, welcome to my crack posts. =D

Warning: long post 😊😅 (I somehow took even more screenshots than last time 😭)

I knew something like this would happen hehe

Also-

Don't lie, Peem, he'd already won your heart the moment he said "Na, krab" with those puppy eyes

I love how despite thinking they're enemies up till this point, Tan immediately jumps on the ship the moment he learns it exists.

Fang: cute. <3

Q: cutee. <33

Shy babygirl Peem has my whole heart 🥺🫶🏼

Yeah? Anyone specific you want to draw a portrait of, Peem? Someone from Engineering, maybe? Someone who confessed to you in front of all your combined friends just last night? No? 👀

This smile. This goddamn smile. I get you, Peem, I totally get you.

Q peeking in small into the bag is so accurate 😭

As I'd said in my previous post: "Right in front of my salad?!" and "Something very LGBT just happened to me o.o"

NOSE BOOP

I love nose boops hehe

[Phum: I have to go to class.]

You actually go to class?! *pikachu meme face*

Q's face perfectly expresses my feeling, and I'm definitely saving these as meme pics

Peem's plan to be hit on backfired so fast so hard 😭

Poor boy went into shock 😭

Peem is never hearing the end of this from Q. Never.

I love their friendship though. Besties forever. <3

Toey looks so excited here 😭🫶🏼

He's definitely over the moon that his two beloved hias finally realized they like each other (and of course he manifested this wdyem)

Throwing stones from inside a glass house, huh Q?

You're just as bad as, if not worse than Peem.

*shaking my head fondly* these boys are so whipped for their baes

This ep gave me a lot of meme pic ehehe

Why so surprised, Peem? You were the one telling Phum to flirt on you, why so shy now huh?

Oh, Aunt Pui knows. She's just trying to help her nephew get a nice boyfriend hehe

Also- learning the family business early on? Nice move, Phum.

I'm pretty sure Aunt Pui will accept Phum as family the very instant they start dating.

Actually- she probably already has.

What will you be tying next? The knot?? (I am so so happy I can make that joke and actually mean it now.)

Oh, and I love love love their dynamics. I'm always looking for verse because I don't like active power dynamics, but this show really delivered on it. There's always a push and pull, but throughout, they're equals. Yes, even through that slave era (remember how exactly Peem came to be his slave?). It did start off with a slight imbalance, but it evened out pretty fast (because Phum is incapable of not being the cutest clingy little puppy for more than ten minutes and Peem is weak for it).

PhumPeem/PeemPhum is giving me so much that I'd thought I'd almost never get from BLs (there are a few other examples, I think, but this is probably my topmost).

I don't know if y'all have noticed, but Phum is deliberately soft and is often using polite pronouns for the last two episodes.

It's just... they're so pretty 😭

This scene is just >>>

He-

HE LEARNED LATTE ART JUST TO USE THIS LINE WITH PEEM I'M DYING OH GODS

Phum is 200% committed. Other upcoming BL romantic interests, please take notes.

Jokes aside, what started out as a potential red flag (even two years ago, this relationship would have been very very different) turned into the greenest flag (with a side of childhood trauma).

Did he just-

He almost confessed!!! So close!!

Also- please give me them as boyfriends already, I'm on my hands and knees. But can you imagine what they'll be like when they actually start dating...?

...

I CAN'T WAIT. GIMME NOW. *grabby hands*

This scene made me speechless. Ep 12 was full of beautiful, absolutely stunning scenes, but this was what took my breath - his cute smile that lights up his whole face, his "Pai, krab" and the sheer relief when Peem asks him if he wants to go.

For a moment there, he thought Peem would leave, just like all the people in his life. He knows it wouldn't be permanent, but it's hard to get rid of such an old, deep-rooted fear.

But Peem, unknowingly, immediately waves it away by asking him if he wanted to come with. The only thing is... I don't think it was that unknowing.

I'll end part 1 on this note. Part 2 will be posted soon!

If you've reached this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a doughnut 🍩

And here are my previous We Are posts.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

this is soooooo insanely self indulgent but for fic prompts could u write something where bucky is so attracted to buck’s brain to the point where it’s literally a turn on but buck is used to people not caring (his shitty parents) so he doesn’t really get it

The biggest trick any unit has to learn is what to do with downtime. There's things to do in Boise, but it's important to not just let the boys loose every day and night they aren't training.

Lectures are semi-popular. Buck offers up a few on science. High-school level stuff explaining physics and chemistry. Things a lot of the boys already know a little about and want to know more.

Bucky slips into the back of the room for one of them, standing against the wall because there's no free space to sit. It makes him smile. Buck's whole face lights up when he figures out a good topic for a lecture, and Bucky's glad to see how many seem to like them.

Buck steps up to the lectern and grins at the boys. "Who wants to figure out the best order to lose all four engines and survive?" he asks.

"Can we figure it out the other way, too?" Hambone asks, which makes everyone laugh, even Buck.

"Sure," he says. "But I'll let anyone who doesn't want that knowledge cut out before we talk about it."

Bucky chuckles as Buck turns towards the chalkboard and someone sends a paper airplane through the air, hitting Buck in the back.

"Douglass, that's five demerits," Buck says.

There's a few moments of tussling around Douglass as his friends give him grief, but they all go quiet when Buck turns to face the room again and says, "Okay, let's talk gravity."

Bucky follows the lecture easily. He and Buck have had these conversations before, Buck breaking down the science when Bucky can't follow, making sure he can explain it back to him before he picks up again. It means he can relax and simply watch Buck.

Buck's got the room's attention, his deep voice carrying easily, and the loose-limbed way he moves keeping everyone's attention. He walks the boys through equations and illustrations, drawing a full layout of the fuel line hosing from memory to help the discussion about how gravity and mass and velocity all wrap together to affect which engine has the best chance of running the longest even if the fuel pressure drops.

Bucky shifts his hat, moving it from under his arm to hold in both hands in front of his belt to hide the fact that his dick is half-hard. Buck's face is bright and relaxed as he answers a question about the equation. Bucky watches the pilot who asked the question nod along as he makes sense of Buck's answer.

He's so goddamn smart, Buck is. It makes Bucky feel like his insides are sparking when it's on display like this. Buck knows so much and explains it all so well. He's so open with what he knows and never tires at questions or confusion. Watching him be happy to share makes Bucky want to cut the lecture short so he can kiss him silly, taste the chalk dust that's settled on him, and tell him how amazing he is.

The lecture ends, and the room empties out. Bucky stays put, nodding to a few of the boys who say hello. Buck stays up at the front of the room, looking at the chalkboard like he's appreciating his own work.

"Another sold out show," Bucky says once they're alone.

Buck turns and ducks his head. "I think I'm the only show on today."

"That's not true, and you know it," Bucky replies, pushing off the wall and walking slowly up the center aisle to Buck. "You had them eating out of your hand, like always."

"It's just about finding the right way to explain it," Buck says. "That's not hard."

Bucky stops close enough to Buck that their buttons brush together. "You are so goddamn smart it makes me crazy," he says. "You know all this stuff, and you can explain it, and you can figure out how to make it interesting for anyone."

Buck slips a hand over Bucky's hip and shifts so he can slip a leg between Bucky's. "Did I get you riled up again, Major?"

"You rile me up every fucking second," Bucky says, cupping the side of Buck's neck. "But, yeah, watching you work that big brain in front of a crowd really gets me going."

Buck huffs a laugh and brushes his mouth against Bucky's. Bucky tastes the chalk dust and bites his lip so he doesn't moan. "Only you," he says, and it's deeply affectionate.

"Come on," Bucky says, tilting his head to one side. "Let me suck you off while you rattle off geometry proofs."

Buck snorts and shoves at Bucky, but then he reels him right back in and kisses him properly, a slow, steady movement of their mouths matched with an easy glide of their tongues. "I may be the brains of the operation, but you're the romantic," he says.

Bucky laughs and rocks against Bucky's thigh, sighing when Bucky shifts so there's more pressure on his cock. "Come on," he says, "Let's go find a spot to fuck my brains out."

"Only yours?" Buck asks.

Bucky shivers at the challenge in Buck's tone. "I'll never manage, but I will wear myself out trying."

Buck grins at him and takes one step back, grabbing Bucky's hand and pulling him along. "An equal amount of pressure on both sides," he says. "That's physics."

"Uh-huh," Bucky replies. "Keep talking dirty."

[lemon-and-lead]

These Barbies are expressly prohibited from entering spider society HQ due to extreme canon event interference!

I wanted to draw my spiderverse characters, but decided to do a full scale piece instead of a standard character ref sheet. These two are preexisting OCs that I decided to Spider-man-ify. Meet Emily Fenstar, alias Spider-Girl, and her uncle, Miles "Deadpool" Fenstar.

Some lore:

Emily comes from earth 4082 in the year 2085. She was raised by her Uncle Miles after the death of her parents. Her world is controlled by a series of megacorporation monopolies, including Alchemax. The CEO of Alchemax sought to create a new generation of mutant heroes, and began experimenting on his company's employees and their families. Miles and Emily were abducted, split up and altered. Emily had her DNA spliced with the DNA of a spider, and Miles was enhanced with a super serum that granted him an extreme healing factor to the point of immortality. They believe themselves to be the only survivors of their respective programs.

Miles was eventually able to escape, rescuing his niece on the way out. He took on the name Deadpool and found work as a mercenary to support her and keep them both from being recaptured by Alchemax and their many engineered monsters. During his captivity, he endured horrible injuries from imperfect versions of the serum and his hair went prematurely grey. He's set apart from most Deadpool variants out there by the fact that he's never had cancer, and more importantly, the fact that he actually knows how to keep his mouth shut. He works hard to keep his daughter safe, especially when she tags along on some of his jobs.

Emily is far from standard as Spider-People go, due to being genetically spliced like Spider-Man 2099. Her power set is similar- she has sharp claws, venomous fangs and no spider sense. She built her web shooter herself. Her venom is stronger than Miguel's, and will kill instead of paralyzing. She doesn't hesitate to use it when she gets into a pinch, and has no qualms about killing to protect herself or her uncle. Both of them are incredibly wanted by the authorities, and she would rather die than be caught and returned to the program.

There are other versions of Emily that ended up becoming Spider-Woman, but the Emily from 4082 is the only one that wasn't bitten by a radioactive spider and didn't have her uncle die. Missing the first two canon events threw off her whole timeline, leading to her never meeting the person who was supposed to be her version of the Gwen Stacy event, as well as practically every other thing that was supposed to happen. Because of this, Miguel slapped her with a permanent ban and a no contact rule against all of Earth 4082, with the excuse that her dimension was probably unstable. She thinks that's bullcrap and fully intends to find her way in some day when she's got less to worry about.

Fun fact: This piece took me nine goddamn hours. Enjoy.

[crow-caller]

current excitement level for the new reeve book? and have you read alan garner

I'm super excited for Thunder City!!!!! I'm so goddamn bad at reading books I'm excited about, but I'm excited to read it and will, because I loooooove mortal engines. I'm excited to discuss it with everyone. I don't know I'll do a review, because I think I'll be very biased and it'd be incomprehensible, as it always is when I recc people read Mortal Engines. My beloved.

I have it preordered, and I'm going to see him at an event for it too! I'm thinking about which book I want to bring for him to sign, I always only want to bring one extra when I see him. I have two signed copies of ME and one of Railhead, so should I do Darkling Plain? Fever Crumb? Utterly Dark?? ME 2??? very hard. also considering bringing a copy of Mortal Engines by Stanisław Lem. He also usually draws in them...

I've not read alan garnder and don't recognize any of this books! I'm not sure I've heard of him.

[dustedmagazine]

Butthole Surfers — Hairway to Steven (Matador)

Photo by Pat Blashill

Hairway to Steven is a phrase well fitted to the contradictions intrinsic to the Butthole Surfers’ music in the late 1980s. It’s a goof, a jest, a mangled pun; it’s a joshing nod to the bloated metal and self-regarding prog rock of the mid-1970s, and a monstrous appropriation of that music’s grandiosity, distorting it into comical shapes that could amuse or horrify — or amuse and horrify. “Jimi,” “John E. Smoke,” “Backass”: all those songs from Hairway… seem engineered to articulate a joke and then to extend it, stretch it as far as it might go and then beyond that point, until the laughter turns into something else. Check out the falsetto voice in “Jimi,” around the 5:50 mark; it dissolves into maniacal laughter and then declares, “Crazy, crazy fucking world / Crazy goddamned world we live in.” Hard to know if you should chuckle or collapse into abject despair. If the song is really working on you, you’ll want to do both.

In Spring of 1988, the Butthole Surfers were poised to pull off a massively scaled and audacious joke. They were on the verge of becoming successful rock musicians. Soon they would sign to Rough Trade, and then with Capitol (say what?). They would be on the roster of the first Lollapalooza tour and turn into a sort of combination in-joke and fan fave on Beavis and Butt-head, cracking their way into the MTV universe, then the dominant force in the industry. When the band recorded Hairway…, they weren’t yet enjoying those relatively rarefied circumstances. The record would be released by Touch and Go, and their chaotic live shows in 1988 still had the capacity to fill audiences with fear for their lives (not just for their collective sanity). But things were already shifting. Hairway… was recorded in a professional studio, working through songs that the Butts had already been playing frequently on tour. There was a variety of professional enterprise to the process, and it’s worth noting that the band would apply the same practices through the 1990s period of recording more conventional records for Capitol (see Independent Worm Saloon from 1993, and Electriclarryland from 1996, a gold record that produced “Pepper,” the Butts’ first top-40 single).

There’s a different sort of conventionality informing some tunes on Hairway…, like “I Saw an X-ray of a Girl Passing Gas” or “Julio Inglesias.” They’re gag songs, lowbrow buffoonery befitting the sensibility that had always been invoked by the band’s name and by earlier songs, like “Lady Sniff” or “Kuntz.” The klass-klown weirdness of the band’s antic hilarity was further accentuated by the decision to provide no song titles Hairway…, just hastily scrawled (but somehow stylistically vivid) scatological cartoons: the drawing corresponding to “I Saw an X-ray of a Girl Passing Gas” features two female forms, nude, backsides toward the viewer and bent at the waist, exposing genitals and anuses. Tasteless and stupid. A grade-schooler’s idea of outrageous. Right?

Sure, but there’s another way to hear it, particularly if you spin Hairway… back to its opening track. “Jimi” is a behemoth, an acid-drenched elaboration of the first song on the Butts’ previous record, Locust Abortion Technician (1987). Like “Sweat Loaf,” “Jimi” features a conversation between a father and a child. But while “Sweat Loaf” twists its father-son exchange into a variety of punchline (“And by the way, if you see your mom this weekend, would you be sure and tell her…SATAN!”), “Jimi” contorts things into more awful shapes: Daddy: “What do you know about reality? I am reality!” Kiddo: “Oh, Daddy, please don’t touch me on my bottom!” The music thunders and corkscrews, ruthless in its intensity. It’s a nightmare.

But as the Daddy in “Jimi” asserts, there is a link to an awful version of the real in the late 1980s. By 1988, the Satanic Panic was at its peak in the US, with its allegations of Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA) and its fantastical claims of plagues of pedophilia and child murder. There’s no room here for a rehearsal of the Panic, its multiple court cases and the involvement of numerous agencies of law enforcement and psycho-therapeutic professional associations. Some 12,000 accusations of SRA were investigated, and Geraldo Rivera claimed on a 1987 national television broadcast that “there are over one million Satanists in [the United States and they are] linked in a highly organized, secretive network.” Satan had broken through. He was Reality.

In some ways, that history seems at least a little quaint. The Panic was debunked. The careless, corrupted methods of therapy, interviewing and diagnosis were mostly abandoned or deemed malpractice. But anxieties about SRA persist, and QAnon, the Pizzagate Truthers and other recent renditions of the Blood Libel have converted those anxieties into conspiracies with brain-boggling reach and power. That socio-political context, while a total bummer to live amid, makes Matador’s reissue of Hairway… a discomfitingly well-timed event. The myths upon which SRA is founded run deep in the American cultural imaginary (back to Salem, at least), and while listening to the record won’t solve any of the attendant problems, it is a surprisingly forceful experience. Sometimes it’s hard to tell where the joke ends and the danger begins. Spin the record. See if you can figure it out. Crazy, crazy fucking world.

Jonathan Shaw

[geryuthespacesquid]

Hi I'm a nobody asked digital artist, here's my thoughts on all the digital art programs I've tried. These are based entirely off my own memory, and I'm not picking up any of these programs again to test them. Just going off vibes.

Autodesk Sketchbook - Mobile:

This is more or less the definitive Draw You In To Art program. No exaggeration, I think if you asked maybe 50 digital artists in the modern day, most of them would've tried this one at least once. It projects an illusion of polish to distract you from a number of critical missing features, but overall, it's not even remotely bad to start out with. I think if my mobile tablet had a halfway decent degree of pressure sensitivity I could make something okay with it.

A more detailed explanation of my thoughts is hard, but to sum it up, this program bombards you with a million brushes for free, something rarely done by digital art programs, but, it also has extremely limited layer behaviors, you can't change canvas size anymore, and the stablizer is pits. I won't say it's bad. It's not. It's just not good. 5.8 out of 10.

Ibis Paint X - Mobile:

Comedically simple, this is the program you pick up when you're doing digital art a little better, and want to actually have fun. Bread and butter of the mobile digital artist. It has literally everything you need, it's just not fancy in any way. Getting every brush isn't worth paying for, but you'll live. They recently tried to step into AI and got punched in the gut so hard they stopped, which I like.

In general, this program doesn't do anything in particular extremely well, but it also doesn't do anything poorly. It's well rounded. I'd say if you're gonna do digital art on mobile, you'll always find yourself coming back around to this. It's just too solid. 7.8 out of 10.

Medibang Paint - Mobile:

I am biased against this program. I just don't like it. Maybe I was using it wrong, or maybe the mobile version is just worse, but it felt like drawing with mashed potatoes and gravy. Also it seems to be no longer available on my tablet, so fuck it.

In truth, my memory on this program is hazy despite me using it probably the second most out of all of these. No clipping mask, limited layer styles, an extremely limited number of brushes, no way to get more on mobile, anti aliasing made everything pixelated, and I don't think it can change canvas sizes, or if it can, I never figured out how. I just don't like anything about how the program feels. 3 out of 10.

Clip Studio Paint - Desktop:

Goddamn. I wanna recommend it. I really do. But. You have to know things.

First and foremost, the new subscription model for CSP essentially means that after a year, whatever version you have is obsolete, and won't even get updates while you have it. You have to pay a yearly subscription to get the updates for your current version. if you pay for the 3.0 version when it drops in march, it will be 10 dollars extra to get any of the updates to the 3.x version until 4.0 drops, when you can pay 25 dollars to upgrade to that and get all the 3.x updates, plus whatever came in 4.0. On top of that, it can cost anywhere from 25 to 200 dollars depending on which version you get, and if it's on sale.

But goddamn. It's pretty worth it. The brush engine is fluid, works great for making your own, I've never seen the program fail to do something. It has limits, but I've never hit them. 8 out of 10.

Rebelle 5 - Desktop:

Listen to me carefully. This one is extremely specific. You have to WANT a digital art program that replicates IRL media PRECISELY. If you don't care about that, this program is not worth it. I got it on sale for 10 dollars. Can I reccomend it at that price? Heartily. But at the near 200 dollar price point it usually goes for? FUCK NO. Rebelle caters to a specific demographic. Nothing else matters.

That said. When it works, it works well. I do like how rebelle feels and works. But not enough for me to ever tell someone to get it for full price. 4 out of 10, but if you really want to replicate traditional media, 9 out of 10.

Corel Painter - Desktop:

Never before has a program sent me on such an emotional rollercoaster as this one. It's just so much. It's a midpoint between Rebelle and Clip Studio, but for the worst. It's expensive beyond comprehension, you can't make your own brushes, only pay for new ones, it's a yearly format meaning a new, barely distinguishable version goes on sale every year for another 300+ dollars, and I only got it as part of a Humble Bundle for 25 dollars, and I still feel like I wasted my money.

And you know what? I didn't just dick around in this program. No, I made a full drawing in it. Nothing spectactular. Just a simple drawing. And I felt accomplished. and I went to export it, to share. Only to find out you can only email images to the email associated with your account to get a regular image version. Now. This made me irrationally angry, but, I calmed down, and tried it.

It only works with microsoft emails, and I have a gmail account associated with my Corel account.

This program is 300 dollars, and lacks the functionality to simply export a png to your computer. 2 out of 10.

[squeakyfir]

Stow-Away (Jaws 1975) (X Child! Reader)

Description:

Stuck on a populated island with an abusive father with only one way out but hard to reach.

A boat.

Born on Amity island and losing your mother at the age of two, it left you with your father who was caring at first but then became abusive. You had too escape. You thought about sneaking onboard to a boat but now that a massive man eating shark was threatening the waters, the town stopped the flow of boats leaving the harbors out of fear.

You were stuck.

Until…

You see a boat preparing to leave the island. That was your only option, jump aboard and hide until gets to another port.

But… Oh boy… What these men were doing was not what you expected.

They were out on the water… To catch the man eater themselves…

I do not own the cover image. All rights of that image, characters and story belong to Universal Studios™. I will be adding my own twists but the main things belong to Universal Studios™

Chapter 6

Previous ~ Next

"He's chasing us" said Hooper, "I don't believe it".

You watched as the three barrels continued chasing the boat. "I'm going to draw him into the shallows" said Quint as he continued to steer, "Draw him into shallow water, then I'm going to draw him in and drown him. We're heading in, Brody".

"Thank Christ".

The barrels continued to follow and you asked, "Has a great white ever done tha-"

"No" Hooper said quickly. Hooper still kept a hold on you which you didn't mind. If anything, it was desperately needed. You then could hear Quint starting to whistle which was nothing new but the timing was odd. "How far do we have to go" asked Brody but he didn't receive an answer. "Quint, don't put that much pressure on it" said Hooper but again, Quint ignored the statement. What wasn't ignored was the sound of the engine rattling from all of the force Quint was giving it. "(Y/n), hang onto this pole, ok"?

"Ok".

Hooper let go of you and said to Quint, "Quint, Goddamn it".

"SHUT UP"! Quints loud response made you jump in surprise. "Get back there! If I break the engine--"

"It's going to tear up" yelled yelled Hooper. Quint grabbed Hoopers shirt and shoved him back and just continued to sail forward. Hooper gave up and told you and Brody to "Hold on". The barrels were still following which was very unnerving. The smell of engine fuel was getting much stronger and you then heard Quint start to sing yet again. "Farewell and adieu to you, fair Spanish ladies

You all looked at Quint.

"Farewell and adieu you ladies of Spain

For we received orders

For to sail back to Boston

A small explosion was heard and Quint stopped singing. "You idiot, you burned out the bearings. I must go down and get the gear" said Hooper.

"Alright, stop the boat. Stop it" said Brody. Smoke was flying up towards your face and you immediately started coughing. "Cover your face, (Y/n)" said Brody. When Hooper went down to the cabin, another explosion went off and blew the hatch doors off. Quint immediately went down to get the fire extinguisher while Hooper went to get his supplies. Quint put out the fire and they all saw, once again, the barrels swimming away and diving down.

They were at their ends. They didn't know what to do. Brody came down with you and stood near you and was silent. Everyone was silent. The boat was really starting to sink but it was happening slowly. "Hooper". Hooper looked over and saw Quint tossing a life jacket at him, "Chief" tossed one at Brody, "Squirt" and handed one to you. Quint had put his green jacket back on and put his cap back on. He didn't grab a life jacket for himself and just sat on the ledge with his arms crossed. "What about you" you asked to Quint. Quint ignored your question and just stared out into the ocean until his eye caught something.

"Hooper" Quint asked, "What exactly can you do with these things of yours"? He was talking about the shark dart and Hoopers own spear that he brought on the boat. Hooper reached down and picked up a white tube and small glass jar. "Well, I think I can pump 20 CC's of strychnine nitrate into him, if I can get close enough". Quint took the small objects from him to examine them and then asked, "Can you get this little needle through his skin"?

"No, I can't do that. But if I can get him close enough to this cage, I think I can get him in the mouth or the eyes-"

"That shark will rip that cage to pieces" Brody said as threw his life jacket at Hooper.

"You got any better suggestions" Hooper yelled. There was no discussion up for debate. This was a last result and it's come to that. The three men began setting up the cage with you still standing in the doorway, but Hooper soon asked you to step out so he could change his clothes and get into his wet suit. You obeyed and just stood near Brody while they were still setting up the cage. The two men would give occasional glances at you to make sure you were ok. One was more often than the other. Hooper had his poisoned spear ready and Quint went to grab an air tank to help Hooper put on and the cage was lifted and put into the water.

Hooper was climbing up to get in the cage but you immediately thought of the damage to the boat and to what Brody said earlier.

"That shark will rip that cage to pieces"

"Isn't there another way" you asked.

"No, there isn't" Hooper said.

"But-" you walked towards the cage, "What if" tears started to form in your eyes, "What if you get hurt"?

"Don't worry about me, (Y/n)".

"Remember what I said, squirt" Quint said, "Keep your head up".

"But-"

Hooper was about to repeat himself but had to remind himself that he's dealing with a child. "Listen to me, (Y/n). Everything's going to be fine. Just stay by Quint and Martin and you'll be ok, alright"? More tears fell from your eyes and Hooper reached his hand out to you and you quickly grabbed it. "I'll be ok, I promise".

"You better come back" you said as you tried to not cry. Brody started to gently rub your back to comfort you while Quint kept his hand on your shoulder. "I promise". You let go of his hand and he gave Brody his glasses as he was now in the cage and was handed his goggles and poisoned spear. "Try and keep him off me until I'm lower". Brody understood and heard Hooper say that he was ready. The top of the cage was closed and was then lowered into the water. You hoped and prayed that he would be ok and just kept your fingers crossed.

Not long after he was put into the water, the barrels reappeared and were coming towards the cage. You held onto Brodys hand and saw the shark circling the cage. It looked like it swam away for a short time but it abruptly came back and slammed into the cage. "HOOPER"! It kept smacking into the cage until it eventually got stuck on top of it and was thrashing around to try and get free. "Bring him up, Quint, Goddamn it. Get back, (Y/n). Bring him up, now"! Quint was trying to reel the cage up but the weight of the shark on top of the cage was unbearably heavy that it was starting to take out the leverage system. "Pull him up! Come on, Quint, bring him in".

"It's giving way" yelled Quint. The bar holding the leverage together snapped and fell and it almost hit Brody but thankfully it didn't. The shark finally got free and swam away. "Rig something. Rig something" said Brody to Quint. You stood by the door to the cabin and were holding your tears back and just hoped and prayed that Hooper was ok. The two men continued to reel the cage back up until the top of it came into view. No sign of Hooper. "Hooper" you asked. The men didn't say anything and you ran over to the cage to see that it was ruined.

All of your tears broke free and you just fell to the ground crying. Brody got down and held you close but that would have to wait since the shark came back for another visit. The shark leapt out of the water and was dragging the boat down by his weight. You all fell and try to grab onto something to stay back. But you then hear Quint scream and Brody react to try and grab Quints hand but it slipped and he was falling right towards the dark abyss of the sharks mouth.

No. Not again.

You let go and quickly grabbed Quints hand to stop him from falling and Brody quickly grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you and Quint back. The shark was not giving up though. It wanted something to eat, so you grabbed your life jacket and threw it at the shark and it went straight into its mouth. Not satisfied but not finished either, the shark swam backwards and descended back into the water. "Squirt, you saved my life".

"I'm not losing another friend" you said with big tears streaming down your face. Quint felt sympathetic and gave you a tight hug and managed to kick the door shut. "Remember what I said, squirt. Cryin' ain't gonna get ya nowhere. Come on now, stop crying" he said calmly. But as the boat kept tilting with more water piling up to their stomachs and up to your neck, a loud thud was heard and the shark had bursted through the window wanting to kill the three of you. You screamed and Quint held you back tightly. When the shark burst through the window, it made glass and wood fly right towards the three of you. Sadly, some glass got into Quints arm and he seethed with pain. Brody then saw that there was one tank left and remembered what Hooper said about them.

"You screw around with these tanks and they'll blow up"

Brody quickly got a hold of the tank and threw it into the sharks mouth and it once again swam backwards. "You doing what I think your doing, Chiefie"?

Brody looked over and saw that there was a small amount of blood coming from Quints arm. He didn't say anything and Quint acknowledged the stare from Brody at his arm. "Me and the squirt are fine, Chief" he said quickly.

"Where's your rifle"?

"Up on the bridge. Go through there". Quint pointed up to a window and still held onto you. Once Brody made it up, Quint passed you up to him and made it out himself. "Squirt, get on my back". You did as he said and tried to grab on. "Hurry now". You got on and kept your hands around his neck and legs wrapped around his stomach. "Do not let go. Got it, squirt". You nodded your head and saw that the two men were gonna start climbing the crows nest.

The shark was seen and then disappeared back down into the water but just as soon as it disappeared it popped up again and tried to bite Quint and Brody. Quint had the pole with the hook at the end that was used to bring in the barrels and kept stabbing the shark in the head but it was yanked from him and the shark swam back down. "Alright. Alright" you heard Brody say. "Show me the tank. Come on, show me the tank. Blow up"!

You and Quint watched as the shots were fired but missed. A couple bullets made their way into its head but it wasn't until this happened...

"SMILE YOU SON OF A..."

BOOM

One shot at the tank and the whole shark blew up in a bloody explosion. Brody screamed in delight and you could hear Quint sigh heavily. You couldn't believe what had just happened. The shark was now dead. The waters of Amity island are safe now. The boat was almost completely sunken but the three of you needed to take a breather. You slid off of Quints back and you corralled next to each other. A tear fell from your eye as you thought about Hooper and seeing his brown travel bag floating made you even sadder. "(Y/n)"? You looked over and Brody said, "I'm so sorry. But I'm here for you-"

"So am I, squirt".

"Your not alone".

You took both of their hands and said "Thank you". You all sat silently for a moment but you then heard gentle splashing sounds and when you turned around, you saw Hooper swimming towards the three of you. You instantly smiled and yelled, "HOOPER"! You let go of Quint and Brodys hand and they also were relieved to see that Hooper was ok. You swam towards Hooper and hugged him so tightly. He laughed to himself and swam over with you refusing to let go. The three men all laughed together, mentally agreeing that the nightmare was finally over. "What do we do now" you asked.

"Can we get in one of those"? You all looked over and there was a small life raft that would be big enough for three men and a kid. Unfortunately, there were no oars to paddle with so they all had to use their hands. Luckily, the shores weren't that far away but it would still be awhile. "Hey" you asked and while Hooper grabbed his bag from the water "What day is this"?

"It's Wednesday-- uhh... Tuesday I think" Hooper said.

"I think the tides with us" Quint said.

"Keep paddling" said Hooper.

"Wait until we get to shore, (Y/n). Remember what I said yesterday" Brody asked.

"No".

"As soon as we get back, I'm having your father arrested". You smiled and quickly hugged him which formed a smile on his face. "But" you then let go, "What happens to me after that"? The three men were silent but Brody especially didn't know what to say since hes never had a case like this before. But then it hit him. He's the chief of police! He can basically do anything he wants. "I'm the chief of police, (Y/n). You can stay with me until things get sorted out". You smiled and knew things would be better.

But, Brody then said something that unnerved you.

"But I'm gonna take care of that. I want you to get checked out at the hospital for your injuries". You didn't want to argue, but some of your injuries and scars hurt but you just ignored them for the longest time. "Ok". You looked over and saw Quint looking back at his sinking boat. "I'm sorry Quint about your boat". He smiled and said to you, "Don't worry about it, squirt. It's just a boat".

It took awhile to get back to shore and once you reached the thin and shallow waters, you jumped out and ran to the beach. You jumped up and down in excitement and couldn't contain your happiness. The three men came over and you jumped up into Hoopers arms. He wasn't expecting you to do that but caught you regardless. After a long walk back to town, Brody asked you where you lived and after explaining, he instructed Quint to take you to the hospital but since Hooper didn't have a car, he piled into the blue truck belonging to Quint. You saw Brody get into his car and drive off into the direction of your house.

The whole car ride was, for the most part, silent. Hooper kept you close and could tell your nerves were going crazy. He only held you close and could see Quint give the occasional glance to the direction of his new friends. Friends? Quint didn't want to associate himself with rich city people who grew up with silver spoons and better clothes they never earned but Hooper was a different man. Yes, he's been counting money all his life but after all that just happened on what used to be his boat, he looked past it for the time being. "Sorry this all happened to you, (Y/n)" Hooper said as he gently squeezed your hand. The sudden statement from his lips lightly startled the older man who was driving the car.

You just breathed out a deep sigh relief and said, "Thank you". You were not alone anymore. You are free. Reaching the hospital, Quint parked the car and the tension became worse. There could be worse injuries they hadn't seen with their eyes and only secretly hoped it was an easy fix. The large white and pristine hospital was as busy as usual and it was Hooper who attempted the paper work but not being your legal guardian was more than difficult to answer. After explaining the situation clearly to the receptionist, a call for a wheelchair was requested and no time was wasted when it showed up in an instant.

You didn't want to go but the two men assured you that it would be alright and that they would be right by the doors the whole time. Being wheeled off, the distance that grew larger and larger between you and your friends was incredibly upsetting. The doctor came by and did his examinations to discover you had a mild TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) by a blunt object. Your scars were examined and they discovered that a cigar burn on your back was infected and that your left leg had been sprained. Explaining all of your injuries to them and how they happened made them report to Brody, the chief of police, who knew you were there and already arrested your father.

The doctors made their call and ordered a room for you to stay until further notice. After hooking you up to a children's IV tube, the examination doors opened to reveal Hooper and Quint, standing there as promised, and looking upset at what they were witnessing. It was soul crushing to see you on a gurney but they quickly followed after you with a nurse explaining your injuries and the plan for staying in the hospital.

Unaware of the severity of your injuries, Brody drove as fast as he could to the hospital and quickly asked for your room from the receptionist. Getting his answer, he sprinted into the hospital and found the assigned room. Opening the door and seeing Quint pacing and Hooper holding your small hands as a doctor had to treat your back infection. It hurt badly but Hooper offered his hands for support and kept repeating to you to only focus on him and saying you were doing a great job. "Were almost done, (Y/n)" said the nurse.

"See, (Y/n)" said Hooper, "almost done". You winced and squeezed your hands tighter which didn't hurt him at all. He knew that you were in pain and it pained them all to see you in this state. Your tears began to flow but once again, Hooper provided his kind words of comfort and encouragement. "And... Done. See? That wasn't so bad, huh"? You let go of Hoopers hands and didn't stop yourself from the tears flowing like a river down your cheeks. "You may lie down now, (y/n)" the nurse instructed.

You cautiously laid back down and saw Brody come to the other bedside. "Hey, how're you feeling"?

You didn't respond and only continued to cry as quietly as you could. "They're bad, Martin" Hooper said. He began to list all of the things the nurse said. The infection and head injury. "Ok, I'm gonna make a phone call, can you two wait here"?

"Of course" Hooper said quickly and Quint just made a grunting noise as a way of saying "yes". Quint was in shock at this whole thing. He couldn't wrap his head around this and it made him very relieved that they didn't send you back when they first discovered you. Brody left and made his way to the receptionist to call his wife to prepare the guest room. He was the chief of police and had a major standpoint for local jurisdiction so he knew that you staying with him until things got sorted would be an easy task.

"Hello?"

"Ellen"?

"Martin? Where are you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm at the hospital-"

"What happened!?"

"Nothing bad happened to me but something's happening and I need you to prepare the guest bedroom".

"Quints not staying here, is he?"

"No" he laughed a little. "It's something bad. When we left the dock, we found a kid hiding on his boat. She's only seven years old and was abused by her father. She's in really bad shape".

"Oh my God--"

"So, I would like for her to stay at the house until we get things for her settled. She has to stay at the hospital for awhile but I'd like it if it was prepared sooner".

"Ok Martin, I'll get it ready and I'll tell Michael and Sean".

"Good. I'll be over later-"

He was about to say his goodbyes, but she also wanted to know the status of the shark problem to which he proudly said...

"It's all over with, Ellen".

[sweaterkittensahoy]

This is what it's like being a tech writer around engineers.

Like, the assumption is that engineers have a HARD job with MATH and THINKING

But you need someone with common sense to go, "I don't care if you tell me you're GONNA do that, where is the released and controlled drawing that fucking proves it, TODD*"

And then, people go, "The engineers say you haven't released the instructions they sent you three weeks ago! Why haven't you done that?"

And you go: "Because I said I needed a controlled drawing."

"Look, that's how we're gonna do it. Just go with it."

"I literally refuse to do this because if it is every discovered you cut this corner, we will be sued into the goddamn ground."

Or, my personal favorite: "You're the tech writer, and I found a mistake in this manual, and it must be your fault because you wrote it."

Me, actually looking into it: "Here's a 20-email chain where the information was stated, then confirmed by three separate people."

"Well, we changed it since then!"

Me: "Cool. We can rev it."

"We need a copy RIGHT NOW for the CUSTOMER."

"Cool. Not happening. Also, when was this change made?"

"MONTHS AGO."

"Can you send me proof?"

"I have an email string! You're on it!"

I am never, in fact, ever on it.**

*I do not work with anyone named Todd.

**More than once. So many more times than once.

Cannot believe the way Clint was demonstrated to be one of the most intelligent characters and then they just brushed it off for the rest of his run until Hawkeye. But?? A room full of scientists and Clint fucking Barton is the guy who recognises that a door can be tampered with from the other end, even when it’s actually a cube from space.

And it’s such a practical take, too. These people are all running around thinking these fantastical thoughts and Clint, who grew up in an environment where being practical meant survival, looks at the Tesseract and thinks “it’s a door. There’s clearly another side.”

[hurryupmerlin]

There's a lot going on in my life and today has been hard, cos I spent all day fighting a mental breakdown. I mean, it was just a question of time, really. I've felt it coming for weeks. But I still wish I could feel something else.

So here's a diary entry in hopes of someday reading it and thinking "man, things have be shit but it turned out just fine after all."

In January I posted my to do list for 2024 here. More than half a year has passed since then and unfortunately nothing from this list is checked off and there has been gradually less good news to report with each new month.

All my life I have never had the stamina to learn an instrument. When I stumbled across Handpans, the opportunity arose to change that. I've since been to two beginner workshops and the organizer was gracious enough to lend me a handpan for a month. I was really motivated to follow through with his 17-days-challenge because I knew if I could manage to play every day, even if it was just a few minutes, I had a real chance of forming a habit and finally fulfilling my dream of mastering an instrument. But my days were long. I set up the handpan a few times at ten o'clock at night or even later, completely exhausted. And then came the executive dysfunction. Every day I see her standing there. Every day I want to play it. Every day something in my head blocks me of setting it up. The fear of having to explain to Pierre that I've only played it 5 times this month eats away at me. I want to play. But I can't. And in four days, the month will be over and I'll have to give it back. He'll then ask me if Handpan isn't for me after all. And I'll say: "Yes, it is. It makes me happy. It's fun. It's healing something inside of me. I can let go of the world when I'm just playing for myself. But my broken ADHD brain won't let me and I don't have the money to buy my own and stash it in the closet for the few times a year that I have the strenght to set it up and play." It feels like losing. Like I missed my one chance for something great, that could've changed me for the better.

When I moved into the house, I had these fantasies of sitting at my desk in my tidy, light-filled beautiful room. Drawing digitally, writing, singing. Painting on canvas and composing music. But my aunt interfered in my life and the building site has been frozen ever since. I live between masking film and plaster dust. I've been incapacitated and feel so powerless and helpless. I want progress. And I want my art back.

And then there's the matter of the dog. That goddamn dog Kröte. My colleague told me there's a technical term for when you make a terribly bad financial decision and then cling to it, pouring more and more money and resources into it in the desperate hope of turning it around. She couldn't remember the term, tho. I could be so happy with just my own dog, but instead I've brought this beast into the house. Because of which my own dog has to spend every day alone at home and because of which my neighbors hate me. Because of which my house stinks of piss and because of which my ears are ringing with barking.

My car has been giving me problems since September last year. I've lost track of how many thousands of euros I've spent trying to get the recurring fault fixed. Something between 4500-6000 euros. Most recently it was in the workshop for a month. What's more, after every repair, another new fault occurs. I can't take any more. Emotionally and financially. My aunt's friend is urging me to take it back to his garage. But I thought I'd made myself clear when I said "if it's not fixed this time, I'll keep driving it until the engine fails and I break down." I was supposed to bring my car over today. Which of course I wasn't told directly again, but via the old game of wisper down the lane. Which I said before I will not accept any longer. I put my cell phone on airplane mode afterwards. I can't do it anymore. It's Saturday and I finally needed a day off. I've been borrowing spoons from the future for days - my body told me very clearly that I had overspent.

Things aren't going well at work either. It's not news that we're bankrupt. But the way our bosses and colleagues treat us graphic designers is now unacceptably disrespectful. I am the only employee left who is still interested in contributing her own ideas in order to offer the company advantages and new opportunities. That makes me stand out - in a negative way. Because thinking along might officially be required, but since it also shows where the problems lie, it's actually unwanted. The very real fear of losing my job while being in debt so badly is gnawing on me every day. I am on the hit list. They just need me to finish a few projects first.

Despite all this I cling to hope.

[being-so-normal-about-reploids]

Hai so what are ur fav headcanons that you can’t stop thinking about? :3

God tho I don't even know where to begin. I'm actually not that much of a headcanon generator, I don't think! Which I know sounds absurd considering I'm out here absolutely just making up noncanon shit for hundreds and hundreds of pages, but then if you actually ask me like, 'Quick, name a headcanon!' I just kind of bluescreen, lol. All the writing is more AU to me at this point so it's like, entirely separate real canon, so I feel like I can't really pull from any of that to answer, if that makes sense? Like it's not headcanon at that point.

But I have been playing X6 and laughing about Dynamo for like a week so you know what I'll go with that as a starting point: if they weren't already enemies, Zero would still probably love to slap Dynamo's teeth out of his head because they're too just a little close to the same type of flippant (you get this from Zero a lot more in Japanese than English), but X would probably get along with him pretty okay. And not just because X could probably get along with anybody, either. He would think Dynamo is actually, legitimately funny and chill to hang out with. Zero would think he's a shit influence who could stand to have fewer teeth, but I also headcanon that Zero probably got along just fine with Vile for a while and probably would have continued to had Shit Not Happened, and he's just defensive (and maybe a liiiiittle jealous? He is a Wily creation after all, from a long and storied line of Nobody Is Allowed To Kill You But Me type idiots) over X, so there's that. None of these idiots have any taste in friends and nobody has any room to talk shit about anybody's weird socialization.

Then again considering the actual plot that last sentence is literally just back to canon again. These dumb fuckin boys looked at each other (destined to try to kill each other from creation) and said, 'Oh no, he's so goddamn stupid, I can't not befriend him.'

Most of my headcanons are a lot more general rather than being about specific characters, and I just straight up called them 'worldbuilding' and slapped them directly into my writing, lmao. I think some of them are actually not popular, like 'reploids are generally aroace from a human perspective (though they very much have their own things going on instead)' and 'reploids don't really eat/drink' are like, I'm probably a minority for those, lol. There's a ton of alloromantic and allosexual works out there and it's actually kind of hard to find a fic where someone isn't eating or drinking human food during downtime for whatever reason. They're just very common. And to be clear I don't have a problem with it or anything either, it's all chill. I don't even mind explicit shit even if it's not as much my thang in this fandom. I just think it's a little bit more interesting when they're not just humans except metal, but instead they've got their own kinda parallel inorganic biology, and not a lot of people are doing that so it's kinda my happy niche to fill lol. Like I don't think they should be too overly familiar from an organic perspective. I actually like the uncanny valley effect. I think it's cool.

Also having a partner with a background in robotics/mechatronics and electrical engineering has super tilted what I find interesting to headcanon, I'm sure, lol.

Uh one more. I'm very team X Has Brown Hair and I love imagining different haircuts on him lol. Couldn't tell you why, but somehow most of them look cool anyway, so it's a fun pastime and I should draw some of them.

Yeah okay that's a lot of words! I think that's good for now. Unless you wanted specifics about a given game/character/etc.? (Bonus points if it's an OC because I'm always looking for an excuse to start rambling about them.)

ALSO TURNABOUT IS FAIR PLAY JUST FYI

[ttte-tugscrowskullausmainblog]

I have done it.

Yes, I did get inspired by Sodorz making ocs, what of it.

This lad is actually an old oc I've just never had the motivation to finish him.

Anyways, meet Gideon, my first finished TTTE engine OC.

(info below, it's a lot of reading)

-He/Him, transgender, queer

- Union Pacific Big Boy Engine/experimental type(failed), 133ft(length), 4-8-8-4, steam powered, coal/oil fueled, top speed 80mhp

- Built 1941 and grew up in America/set to be scrapped 1948/saved by Sir Topham Hatt in 1950

- He was an experimental model to see how effective steam power was for his engine type, but after many tests, and getting in an accident where they saw him as unsafe for drivers, he was deemed useless and a waste of resources. He was going to be scrapped and was placed in a scrap yard where he sat for almost two years. When they were transporting him to the smelters, he met Sir Topham Hatt, who bought him and saved his life. Bringing him to Sodor, fixing what his original owners wouldn't pay to repair, putting his available talents to good use, and giving him the life he deserves.

- The accident that scarred him was when he was pulling a train through a canyon and he got caught in an avalanche. Because of the heavy train he wasn't fast enough to outrun the rocks and got badly injured. The worst injury was when a boulder fell right on his face and almost blinded his right eye. His owners wouldn't put in the money to properly repair him, only replacing some parts and just welding most gashes, and merely bandaging his face. By the time he was brought to Sodor it was too late to try and fix his scars so they are permanent, the most they could do was paint him better to try and hide them, but there is no hiding his facial scars.

- He is much stronger compared to most engines, but slower and sluggish and often low energy, usually slower the heavier the train he's pulling

- Mostly does heavy lifting and quarry work, most often stuff that usually would take two engines, as well as pulling freight and flatbeds in larger numbers, sometimes pulls goods trains but doesn't believe he's fast enough for it, doesn't pull coaches or passengers because he thinks he's too slow, if asked he will pull tourist coaches because he doesn't have to go as fast, only does jobs that doesn't require him to be fast

- Tired 24/7

- Sometimes dings his bell when he's bored or anxious

- Speaks with an average American accent but doesn't talk much, not one for small talk but will listen to you ramble endlessly if you want him to

- Dislikes being center of attention but often is because of how different he is, he doesn't like when people point out his scars, he doesn't like being crowded or feeling trapped, has trouble with words so he is easily talked over so he often chooses not to talk, he isn't good with emotions or comforting so he tries to give logical advice instead

- He is more of a selective-social(is more social with people he likes but doesn't interact with strangers or people he doesn't like), tries to be respectful and polite but his blunt honesty often makes him seem harsh or rude, he is surprisingly self conscious especially when it comes to his size and speed, being mistreated and emotionally abused by his original owners pretty much traumatized him, gets very confused and flustered if met by strong affection, especially romantic emotions

He needs love in his life.

(might be polyamorous, who knows, he's never been in a relationship)

Some references of the original engine type. How I design engines will be mostly based on AEG just with more detail.

Aight, hope you enjoy my big burly boy, I love him very much, peace. ✌️✨

[izzieislandheart]

(Continued...) We're not on Tumblr to look at random posts a program thinks might make us spend more time looking at posts, long enough to even stumble across and interact with a sponsored post or something put up by a brand. We're on Tumblr to share interests with like-minded PEOPLE and to - yes - CURATE our experience. If I want to look at '57 Chevys and not look at '57 Fords, then I want to be able to goddamn tweak my settings to do that, and not have a program go, "You like old cars? Here's an Oldsmobile! You like '50s? How about this post about Patsy Cline's "Walkin' After Midnight"?" Those things are all perfectly fine in their own right, hell, sometimes even awesome, but leave it to us to DECIDE TO LOOK FOR IT. Having to curate our own experience, to be thoughtful, to learn how tags and reblogs work, to create communities through shared tags or to learn ways to filter our experience through keywords the community decides mean one thing and exclude another are intentional. You need INTENTIONAL users to keep a site growing and thriving; zombies scrolling a feed will send you right down the same enshittification spiral everyone else has gone down. And for gods' sakes, if you're that worried about losing money because a payment processor or advertiser drops you because of porn on the main, talk to any of the existing porn services out there, or even just creep their services to find out how they work! Yeah, overhead tends to be higher, and options are more limited, but it gives you a place to start. Then, at the same time, start pushing for changes to legislation to remove FOSTA-SESTA and restrengthen Section 230 protections. Engage with sex workers and their affiliated groups to learn how to actually prevent abuse and protect users on your site. Make it clear that you're about free speech and with that also comes the hard work of responsibility on all parties - which, again, means also CURATING our own experiences, so we can use filters and tags to not see adult content or not use those things if we do want to see it or don't care if we see it. No more platforms and websites engineered to manipulate people through machine-driven practices and content. I've already left all of the others except Mastodon and I never signed up for Threads because one hour of research told me I don't want to go anywhere near it. This particular Tumblr account I'm using is relatively new, but I've had experience with Tumblr from nearly the beginning. I left when "adult content restrictions" (the porn ban) were put in place, because that not only directly impacted me as an artist who sometimes draws tits, but because it also impacted me as a member of the LGBTQ+ community, it impacted friends I have in the sex work community, and it was - in general - a gross insult to the community at large. I came back - reluctantly, at first - when I left Twitter months ago because I was running out of places to land and still interact with fellow artists. I've been grudgingly tolerating the incoherent stance on adult content here and new additions that push people to spend money and act like influencers. I absolutely won't tolerate the focus shifting entirely to removing a thoughtful user experience and replacing it with algorithm-driven "growth" drives.

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[bucksfucks]

Left Gasping For Air

summary┃doused with sex pollen, you & bucky are met with a difficult decision.

pairing┃bucky barnes x f!reader

word count┃2,737 words

warnings┃sex pollen, dub-con/non-con elements, mention of anxiety, injuries, masturbation, lots of raw sex [unprotected sex], desperation for each other, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, cream-pie, crying, side kink, choking kink, praise kink, slight mocking & degradation, pet-name [baby & honey], authority kink, oral, alludes to shower sex, happy ending — 18+ ONLY // MINORS DNI

notes┃you are responsible for your own media consumption — DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ANYTHING MENTIONED ABOVE.

No, no, no, no, no. Oh God, no. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Dear God you prayed that it wasn’t what you thought it was, but when you met Bucky’s eyes, you got all the answers you needed. 

You’d been set-up, fallen for their trap. Soon to be incapacitated and reduced to nothing but carnal instincts.

Bucky grabbed your upper arm with his metal one and dragged you. The reason? Because you were completely over your fucking head.

It was like having Bambi team up with the world’s best trained assassin — you’re stumbling over your feet and oh God do you miss sitting at your desk.

You don’t go out into the field, you’re a goddamn analyst specialist. You work in the background, not the foreground like Bucky does.

“We need to get back,” he rushed, pulling you through the seemingly abandoned building and fuck, you were in trouble. 

You’d heard the stories, done your own research on the subject, but you never thought you’d end up in one of those tales. 

Bucky was rushing, rightfully so. 

Not only had you been breathing in the odourless, but noxious gasses, you’d been compromised and very clearly seen. 

Which meant that the entire mission was busted, but at the moment, you didn’t really care about the mission.

Not as much as you did about what was about to take over you in just a matter of hours. 

This was bad. 

Terrible, horrible, the worst thing that could happen on a fucking mission.

“You okay?” Bucky whispered, looking over his shoulder as he dropped your arm and all you could do was nod because honestly? No, you weren’t okay.

You were just in a state of shock, not really believing this was happening.

Bucky swallowed thickly, black eye bloomed and blossomed, but already healing thanks to the engineering of the super-soldier serum he had running through him. 

You wondered how it would affect him.

Would he handle it worse? Better? The same as you?

Only time will tell…ironic. 

“Stay low and jus’ follow me, okay?” He then said, snapping you out of your thoughts, concerned eyes glazing over your own as you chewed on your bottom lip and nodded, “okay.”

When you finally stepped through the threshold of your shared motel room, you took a deep breath and collapsed onto the bed with shaky hands. 

The bed creaked and then dipped with Bucky’s weight. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, but then again, you always could. 

“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” He humourlessly chuckled, running his hands down his face as you managed to crack a dry laugh, “fucked is an understatement.” 

You stood up quickly then, drawing all of the curtains shut and double checking the locks as Bucky looked at you. 

“We’re gonna be fine, just fine,” you mumbled, more so to yourself, as you paced the room trying to wrack your brain at the options you had. 

Bucky remained on the bed, there were two, yet you still found yourself trapped in a fanfiction trope. 

“What are uh…what are the,” Bucky paused to find the right words, “what are our…uhm, options?”

There really was no better way to phrase it. 

Have sex or die, is what you wanted to say, but you found another way to phrase it.

“Well,” you rejoined him on the bed, cross legged, “we can just try to wait it out, hope for the best.” 

Bucky shook his head at your words, “is that…well is that safe?”

You inhaled sharply, “not even slightly.”

The words seemed to hit Bucky hard as he winced, “what else?”

“We can uh, well we always have the option of servicing ourselves.” Masturbate. You could masturbate the night away in hopes that it would quell the ache and burn of the Molotov love cocktail. 

“How safe is that?” He asked, kicking his combat boots off to crawl higher up the bed.

You licked your lips, “it’s not guaranteed to work.”

There was one more option — the option with a 100% success rate according to the peer reviewed studies you’d read in your Human Biology & Instincts course during your PhD years.

“The last thing is to, uh…well I think you know.”

“To fuck ‘til we’re passing out?”

Your eyes went wide at his words, but fuck if he wasn’t right.

“Yeah, generally that’s the idea.”

Bucky stretched himself out on the bed, his tummy peeking through and it only reminded you of the dire situation.

The room quickly lost it’s light, with the setting sun and the drawn curtains, you were plunged into an almost darkness as crickets soon chirped away outside of your door. 

“We should try to get some sleep,” you finally said, hopping off the bed and crawling into yours just a couple of feet away. 

Bucky didn’t verbally respond, humming instead as he slipped under the covers nearly fully clothed and you decided to do the same. 

A subconscious precaution because maybe if you were fully clothed, the serum wouldn’t work.

Yeah, that was a fucking stupid thought. Of course it would still work, but you could still hope.

The room was silent as you rolled over, watching Bucky do the same.

“”M here for you, jus’ know that, yeah?” He said, a flurry of emotions causing your stomach to flutter as you swallowed dryly and nodded your head.

“I am too, Bucky.” 

“Goodnight.” Were the last words you heard from him before drifting off into a comatose state, unsure of what the fuck was about to happen.

       ══════════════════

Hot. 

It was unbearably fucking hot.

You had ripped the covers off of your body, but that wasn’t enough.

No, you were sweltering, boiling, feeling like a cookie on a baking tray as you began ripping clothes off your body hoping to find some sort of relief.

That’s when you heard Bucky’s soft moan and your pussy quivered as a new wave of arousal washed over you.

“Bucky?” You croaked, “Bucky, it’s s’hot.” You whined, whimpering as you began tearing off the rest of your clothes.

Bucky panted, “I know, I know — fuck,” he groaned as he turned his head to look at your body and his dick twitched.

Painfully even, as he stripped his clothes off and not even his cold vibranium arm could be of any help to himself anymore.

You both lay in your respective beds, panting and writhing both from the pain and the unbelievable level of horniness you were both feeling.

And Bucky looked so so, so damn good.

Thinking about him and seeing him almost made you feel okay. Imagining his hands and lips all over your body; nipping, sucking, sinking his teeth into your skin.

It was almost too much.

And the thought of him was tantalizing.

“Baby?” You whimpered in response to Bucky’s voice, “touch yourself, we gotta — fuck,” he chokes on his own breath.

“We gotta, remember? Touch your pretty pussy and make yourself feel good.” He’s trying, he’s trying really goddamn hard to restrain himself as he digs his fingers into the cheap mattress, penetrating it.

Hearing him say to touch yourself sends you into a sex driven catatonic state as you arch your back and delve between your thighs.

There’s a moments relief, washing over you like a cool wave on a hot summer day and then all over again you feel hot, aching, and desperate.

“S’not enough, Buck,” you croak, “need you.”

Bed springs creak and groan under Bucky’s dense weight before he’s stumbling into your bed and you’re crying.

There’s tears running down your cheeks, wet sobs escaping your parted lips and then he touches you.

Cold hand running up from your navel to in between your breasts — a line of goosebumps following the metal before it’s wrapped around your neck.

Desperation laced in his touch, gripping at your curves because he needs to make sure that you’re real, that he hasn’t slipped into a coma and that this isn’t a dream. 

“I won’t be able to stop myself,” he pants, your eyes snapping open to find him hovering above you. His dog tags hang in front of your lips, warm metal brushing by them as they swing. 

“Once I touch you I, fuck,” he stops himself to catch his breath, “I know I won’t be able to stop because I can smell you and it’s killin’ me that I haven’t tasted you yet.”

You choke out a gasp, “all night long you’ve been moanin’ my name in your sleep.” 

His nose brushes your jaw, whirring metal joints humming in the otherwise silent room.

“Control yourself,” he suddenly growls.

It shuts you up, but does little to help the twisting ache that’s churning your insides.

You want more, you need more.

“It hurts,” you mewl, hiccuping again before the grip around your neck tightens and Bucky’s lowering his lips to your ear.

His stubble scratches you, amplified ten-fold by the pollen, as you feel his hot breath against your searing skin.

“Be a good girl and I’ll give you what you need.” You gasp at his words, watching him pull back — pupils blown so wide you can no longer make out any of the blue that are his irises.

He’s been consumed, just like you, and that’s when you realize that what Bucky’s feeling is probably a thousand times worse.

The good is better, but the bad is excruciating because of his super-soldier serum that’s already running through his veins.

He needs this just as bad, if not more, as you.

His lips are on yours, hungrily and messily, hands cupping your face and the kiss leaves you floating.

His touch was intoxicating, giving you exactly what you need. 

Hot skin against hot skin, the room filling with sticky, thick air and in the moment nothing matters except for how heavy Bucky’s cock feels against your abdomen. 

“Shit,” he hisses, “’m done waitin’.” 

You don’t get a chance to say anything before his head is between your thighs, holding them open and he’s lapping at everything you have to offer. 

The moan that rips through your chest leaves his dick twitching as he ruts his hips against the mattress. He’s dry humping it to get any sort of relief.

“Bucky,” his name leaves your hips as you go to grip his hair, tugging at the roots as he hums against your cunt. 

Your first orgasm washes over you, Bucky’s face clenched between your legs before he’s digging his fingers into the flesh of your ass and thighs. 

“Fuck, fuck,” his voice is low and raspy, “oh baby, wanna see you do that all over my dick.” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to speak before he’s fisting his cock, lined up with your entrance, and pushing in. 

It’s indescribable, the feeling of him sinking into you, whispering out a fuck as he sinks deeper and deeper into you. It grips you just like you’re gripping him with warm, inviting walls. 

“This,” he thrusts, slamming the headboard against the ugly wallpapered wall, “is what I’ve been fuckin’ cravin’.” 

Bucky meant what he said, that he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back because he kept fucking you through the pounding on the other side of the wall — your poor neighbours begging for your silence. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Someone yells through the walls as Bucky bangs his fist against the wall, ball’s deep inside of you and the drywall cracks and speckles your naked and sweaty chest. 

“Go fuck yourselves!” Bucky snarls back, baring his teeth as he speeds up his thrusts and suddenly the neighbours are quiet as can be. 

For some unknown reason, that’s what throws you, no, catapults you over the edge as your walls flutter around his cock and you’re coming for the second time that night. 

It only encourages Bucky. 

“You better be keepin’ count, ‘cause I plan on setting a fuckin’ record.” He snaps, bed in shambles as it creaks and squeaks before his own thrusts are growing sloppy. 

But you only want more. 

You haven’t had nearly enough, the pollen at it’s peak and all you want is to fuck. 

“Gonna fill you up,” he groans, “God, you’re gonna be so fuckin’ stuffed.” His breathing is laboured, chasing his release before it hits him and a thunderous roar leaves him as he pumps you full of his seed. 

It settles him, but not for long. 

It settles you for even less before you’re whining, trying to rock your hips because he’s still hard as shit inside of you. 

Super-soldier meets sex pollen, his stamina is God-like. 

“C’mon Buck,” you plead. “Need more.” 

He chuckles deeply, “yeah?” He’s mocking, smirk on his face as you wait for his next move. 

“Then come and get it, baby,” he has you flipped over, lying on his back as you’re suddenly straddling him and the new position has you falling into his chest because he’s impossibly deep. 

“Well?” He taunts, “suddenly you can’t fuckin’ move? Is it ‘cause ‘m jus’ so fuckin’ deep ‘side of you?”

He uses a metal hand to press against your lower tummy, “I can see how much you need this,” he purrs, thumb meeting your clit as shocks of electricity run through every nerve ending in your body. 

“Baby you’re soakin’ my stomach, look’atcha,” he hums, eyes meeting the mess you’ve made. 

You meet his eyes and you can see how wet his chin is from being between your thighs and it sparks something inside of you. 

You rock your hips, steadying yourself over his chest as he groans, “oh that’s a good girl, feel so fuckin’ good like this. Jus’ needed a little encouragement.” 

He’s lost himself in you, unable to form a coherent sentence as you lose yourself in the feeling of riding him like your life depends on it, because it does. 

“You feel so good, Bucky,” you mumble, voice small, “s’all yours, baby. ‘M all yours,” he groans, digging both flesh and metal fingers into your skin as he meets your thrusts. 

You lose count after your fifth orgasm, brain reduced to nothing but mush as you and Bucky fuck the night away only taking occasional breaks to drink as much water as you’re sweating out. 

The night dwindles away, early morning sun peeking through the moth-eaten curtains, replacing the moonlight that was streaming in. 

But Bucky is still deep inside of you, slow and gentle thrusts meeting your tired hips as he’s kissing and suckling away at your collarbones in hopes of leaving his mark. 

He doesn’t care who sees. He’s fuelled by a drug that makes you uncontrollably horny. 

“One more for me, honey, one more,” he purrs sweetly, fingers locking with yours as you let out a drawn out and high-pitched mewl before arching your back so your chest’s meet. 

You give him one more, Bucky wrapping his arms around your tired and sore body before squeezing you in a near bone crushing hug as he spills the last of what he has to offer. 

Neither of you have the energy to do anything more than fade off into a much needed, dreamless sleep messily wrapped in each other’s limbs. 

When you awake, you groan at the muscle aches. 

Maybe it’s a masochisitc trait, but you feel...good. 

Better than good, you feel great. 

Bucky isn’t where you last saw him; passed out in bed beside you, but instead you assume he’s the one in the running shower and God did you need one too. 

Without thinking you’re climbing out of bed and into the bathroom where Bucky pokes his head out before pulling aside the cheap curtain and welcoming you into the warmth. 

The water hits your skin, soft moan flooding Bucky’s ears as you stretch your neck side to side. 

A kiss to your shoulder. A second kiss to your other shoulder and stubble that makes you shiver running against your neck. 

There’s something different about this ache between your legs because it’s not painful or unbearable. Instead, it’s welcomed as Bucky’s fingers slide down your wet chest. 

Or maybe the pollen hasn’t fully worn off yet, but you just don’t give a fuck as Bucky presses you against the cold tile wall of the shower with his thumb between your parted lips. 

Sex pollen or not, Bucky Barnes would be your fucking weakness no matter what. 

[lorebite]

When All Comes to Pass

The Quarry “Epillogue” - Part 1/?

So sorry this is short. I needed to get this little idea out before it plauged my whole existence. Also, since the ending is quite open, this would be my interpretation of how things could go once the curtains are drawn.

⚠️ Watch out for minor spoilers!

It has been done.

The cold night air carries the final pained whispers of Eliza. A wounded mother grieving a child she fought hard to protect. An effort with an eventual unfortunate end.

But what could’ve been done? What was the right thing to do? Whose shoes you needed to slip in to justify the life – or the lives that were taken?

But no matter now. The deed is done and the curse is lifted. The plan, after all, came to fruition the way it was meant to.

The worn out bunch make their way back to the car, more eager to leave this night finally behind them. Let the memories become specks of faded colors in the back of their minds.

The car roars to life, the purring of the engine tearing into the silence of the forest that fails to feel comforting even with the curse just buried. The constant ripple of adrenaline remains under their skin. The sense of danger, although now truly subdued, seems as though it still lingers.

“We need to call the cops.” Laura suggests softly at some point during the quiet drive, and Travis only gives her a small look from the corner of his eye. “We need to tell someone about this.”

“And for what?” Travis spits.

“I agree,” Ryan chimes in from the backseat. “We need to get the word out.”

Travis shakes his head, brows twitching irritatedly.

“There’s no point in that. Do you know how much trouble this will cause?” He pins his pointed gaze on Ryan’s reflection in the rear view mirror before flickering his eyes to Laura. “People have died, for fuck’s sake. It doesn’t matter what any of us saw. No one outside these grounds will believe a goddamn word out of your mouths.”

The air grows thick with silence then, crackling with bursts of tension rising back to haunt the group once more. The weight of everything that happened finally begins to push down upon them.

“What—what if we have evidence?” Ryan starts. His urgent stammer draws Laura’s attention as she turns to peer at him over her shoulder, eyes widened with interest. “We had our phones all night. Someone could’ve taken a picture or—or something.”

Travis clicks his tongue, lips pulling back to let a sharp breath through his teeth.

“You’re betting on a technicality, son. It’s better we leave the dead to rest.”

“But we can’t just pretend nothing happened,” Laura tries to reason. Bright tone depleting when Travis refuses to respond. She continues more hesitantly, “right?”

Travis peels his focus away from the road to cast her a determined glare. “Yes, we can.” He says curtly, shifting his eyes back ahead. “How ‘bout we focus on getting you back to your friends for now?”

[bedroomlight]

i. later, he accused me of casting a spell on him. me - a girl from some small nothing town in ohio, 16, raised presbyterian and decent, plain as bare november trees and just about as easy to look at, too. "you're everywhere," he wrote me in a letter. his handwriting was bad, but the way he wrote "everywhere" looked beautiful. "you're in every city, you're like the fucking pigeons. the girls i see are all you!"

ii. just once. do it just once. fall in love, make it hopeless, come out of it crying. maybe do it with a boy who gives you his varsity wrestling hoodie and makes you feel like you're the only one. try and draw those words - "you're the only one" - out of him. you'll remember them forever. don't be afraid. your spirit will get a little harder - cherrywood hard. you'll thank me later.

iii. but i love him! but i love him! but i love him! (i think this as i walk up our long driveway in the rain, fists clenched, not quite ready to face mother, who perhaps has curlers in her hair and is sitting next to Harold, our maine coon, on the sofa, armed with some choice words because it's an hour past curfew, "blah blah blah i told you he was bad for you," goddamn it all - !)

iv. [english] and what sort of job do you think you'll get with that? [i don't know.] spoiled rich kid burning your parents' money. [okay.] don't know the value of hard work. [okay.] should have gone into engineering, or medicine, or better yet trade school. [okay.] you'll end up working as a barista like all the other english majors. [okay.]

v. i dream of it, pray for it, some kind of magic, completely divorced from the digital realm, you can't take a picture of them, there's no evidence of them on social media or the tabloid websites or anywhere, but THEY ARE HERE, people have seen them, the child, purer than the vacuum of space, come here to this tumultuous country, to save us some say but i think differently - i think to simply remind us...

Discussion 11/22/2024

1. Pigeon

2. Mended heart

3. Bad boyfriend

4. College major

5. Godchild