#joyride to space

[randomised-madness]

i just had to share the fact that jetpack joyride has the tardis and i didnt know until a few days ago

[amfetuum9mobile3]

and we’re off

[leighsartworks216]

I Want You

Sylus x gn!Reader

For all my folks who have been told they're not good enough to be wanted by anyone

Warnings: insecurity, kissing, alcohol, swearing, crying, embarrassment, not proofread

Word Count: 1,349

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Have you ever been with anyone?”

It’s a simple question, perhaps born from your uncertainty, here and now. Standing on a moonlit balcony, dressed nicely, dinner on a candlelit table behind you, already savored. It was all Sylus’s planning, of course. When he needed to go to another country, he’d invited you to join him, as a little vacation from your own work to help him with his. When he then invited you to dinner, well, you didn’t think it would be quite this… romantic.

You both stand side by side at the balcony railing, you with half a flute of champagne and him with his own glass of wine. With your elbows on the rail, the flute hangs loosely over the freefall to the ground below. Beyond that, an entire city stretches out into the dim horizon.

You laugh humorlessly. “No. Who would want me?”

“I want you,” Sylus answers quickly.

You don’t look away from the view. Instead, you swirl the champagne around the sides of your glass. The sardonic, deprecating smile slips slowly from your face. You don’t believe him.

He sets his glass on the railing and turns fully toward you. With gentle fingers, he holds your chin and guides you to look up at him. His eyes are sharp. “I want you,” he repeats, firmer this time. His hand slides up to cup your face, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. “What will it take for you to believe me?”

You divert your gaze again as you try to pull his hand from your face. “Look, you don’t have to pity me, Sy. I know I’m not desirable-”

“Not desirable?” He scoffs. “Now who ever told you that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just everyone, my entire life? I know nobody wants me, you don’t have to bullshit me on this.”

“When have you ever known me to bullshit something?”

You don’t answer, and he doesn’t let you pull his hand away. Instead, he cradles your face in both hands, chasing your gaze. “I want you. I want… your laugh when you hear me singing, and your eyes when you’re trying to get a plushie from the claw machine.”

“This isn’t funny anymore.” You set your glass down to hold both of his wrists, trying to pull your burning face from his hold so you can leave.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not joking, sweetheart,” he scolds lightly. “I want your smile when we go for joyrides, and your frown when the Twins are playing tricks on you.”

He leans in, tightening the space trapped between you. The night air is pushed out. It’s just him and you, and your shared breaths. He looks so intense, but not in a frightening way.

Your whole body is hot and uneasy. This still feels like an elaborate joke meant to insult you and make your faux-vacation a personal hell for you to relive every 3am for the rest of your life.

“I want your courage,” he whispers, deep voice slightly raspy at this volume. “I want your stubbornness.”

Your eyes are burning. You’re so embarrassed - you wish you could just hide under the table cloth until the end of the universe.

“I want to watch that triumphant little dance you do when you beat me in Kitty Cards. I want to hear your voice when you first wake up.”

A tear slips free. His face is blurred by the breaking dam. He brushes away each tear with his thumbs.

“I want… every little thing about you.”

You sniffle. You hold tighter to his wrists, torn between continuing to push him away and pulling him closer. He doesn’t shake you off, either way. “What about all the things you don’t want?” you ask, voice trembling and weak and utterly pathetic.

He brushes his nose against yours. Your breath stutters. “Like what?”

“My temper and my recklessness and how- how naive I can be sometimes…” You close your eyes. You can imagine any expression you want on him like this, and right now, you can just picture so perfectly the realization that would come across his face when he realizes you’re right. When he finally remembers just how insufferable and annoying you are. More tears fall as you squeeze them shut tighter. “My fat and my pickiness and-”

“All of it,” he cuts you off. “Anything you can possibly think of. Everything. I want it all.”

His tone leaves no room for argument…

But you’ve never listened to that anyway.

“Why? Why do you want… all of this? You- You can have so much more than me. So much more. Why do you want to settle for me?”

He scoffs. “I’m not settling for anything. You should know by now, kitten, I don’t go for anything less than the best.”

You sniffle again. You can’t imagine what you look like, all gross from crying. One hand finally releases your face, slipping out of your grasp. You hold onto the railing tightly in its place. Something soft and cool brushes away the tears. It’s silk; it feels just like the expensive bed sheets he has on every bed in his base.

“Will you open your eyes?” He cups your face again, the silk pressed in between his palm and your cheek. He brushes his nose more insistently against yours. “Please?”

Water sticks to your eyelashes as you force them open. Under your eyes feels raw and heavy, but your tears have dissipated enough that his face isn’t blurry. He smiles softly.

“There you are,” he whispers, fondly stroking your cheek again. “I want you. Nothing you think will ever change that. Nothing anybody else thinks will change it, either.”

“Really?”

One corner of his mouth quirks up slightly higher, becoming a smirk. “Do I need to prove it to you?”

Your face burns with more than just embarrassment now. You nod ever so slightly. This close, you can see the way his eyes darken as they glance down at your mouth. You can feel his pulse under your hand where you hold his wrist, picking up speed. You just barely hear the slight hitch in his breath as his lips brush over yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and he fully slots your lips together.

He kisses you slow and deep, holding your face firmly to keep you there, to keep you from drawing away from him. It’s insistent. He pulls away for a breath and dives back in. Each kiss is more determined and desperate than the last, until he’s breathing heavily against your mouth, tongue begging for entrance. Until your lips are swollen as you let him in. Until he finally, finally draws away, and watches with hooded eyes as the string of saliva connecting your mouths snaps.

You’re just as dazed as he is. You haven’t even opened your eyes yet, dumbly seeking out his lips again for one more kiss until your mind catches up with the quiet chuckle that fans across your face. Your chest rises and falls with passion, your cheeks are burning with desire, and you look up at him like he’s just pulled the moon down from the sky and handed it to you. He can’t resist nipping gently at your bruised lower lip. He’s glad he didn’t, when you let out a choked whine, begging for more.

“Do you believe me now, my beloved?” he rasps. The name sends shivers down your spine.

You release his wrist and reach up to hold his face. He’s all sharp cheekbones and broad shoulders, but when your fingers brush his hair, it’s impossibly soft. He’s impossibly soft right now, leaning into your touch and sighing as your fingers scrape along the fine hairs at the base of his skull. Gathering all of the courage that he admires so much, you whisper, “I think I need a bit more convincing.”

He laughs, already kissing you when he says, “It would be my pleasure.”

And, despite all the things you’ve been told all your life, you think you’re really starting to believe him.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

[thedisablednaturalist]

Literally all the shit rich people have turned into luxuries are stuff many disabled people need (or would need to manage their pain but can't afford it)

Comfy ergonomic chairs

Indoor pool/hot tub (therapy bath)

Massages on the regular

Aides (rich people call them servants)

Yea even a cook who makes you special meals (perfect for people with special dietary needs and for those with severe allergies, as well as people who are in too much pain or are otherwise unable to cook)

Elevators in your house (even small ones just for groceries, my rich aunt has one in her beach house!)

Rich people don't buy these for fun I hope but custom powerchairs are obscenely expensive. It pisses me off when I see another person invent "the wheelchair of the future!" Which then is literally never fucking used because none of us can afford it (and insurance definitely won't pay)

Indoor gyms or even personal exercise equipment. Hard to go out to a gym somewhere else when you're disabled, especially if you are immunocompromised

Outdoor spaces to relax in. It's literally vital for your mental health to at least see the outdoors. I'd rather be bedridden in a sunroom (with retractable blinds) than a shitty apartment with one tiny window.

There's even freaking health retreats these people go to regularly. There's a fibromyalgia retreat in new york where they basically take care of all your needs while trying different treatments and seeing which ones help. Either it's heaven or making money off of scamming desperate people who are able to scrape the money together to go.

Private planes, which I honestly think shouldn't exist, but one that specifically catered to people with disabilities (spaces for wheelchairs/other mobility devices, accessible handicapped airplane bathroom, anxiety reducing tools, trained medical personnel and care team)

Also customized cars, except instead of making gas guzzling racecars to joyride in while everyone else is trying to get to work, cars with electric ramps, lifts, doors, cars customized for someone with limb differences. Those cars where you can roll your wheelchair right up to the wheel. Fuck even self driving cars once they are no longer deathtraps.

Skincare products that are safe for sensitive skin like eczema but also actually work

Nice-looking clothes customized to fit limb differences, access points, look good in wheelchairs, colostomy bags, etc. while also being comfortable and not fast fashion.

Dental care!!! What the fuck why is this shit so expensive!! I don't want my teeth to fall out!! (Disabled people usually need more dental care bc we have a harder time keeping up maintenance)

Rich people go and splurge on all of these even though they don't need them while calling disabled people selfish for begging their insurance for even one of these.

[frownyalfred]

I knew Batman was a dad when I watched that JLU scene for the first time where Clark tells Bruce the JL is turning themselves in to the authorities to prove their innocence and Bruce’s “What?” was probably loud enough to hear from space.

“You want me to what?” = a tone Bruce hasn’t used since Dick crashed the Batmobile on a joyride. That man is so, so disappointed in you, Clark. And genuinely stunned that you were stupid enough to suggest this.

[tasteracha]

a/n: for @fixation-dump's request for biker bin :) thank you so much for donating to sahar's fundraiser for gaza!!! warnings: afab/fem!reader, kind of exhibitionism but there's no one there

something you didn’t realize about changbin until a few months into your relationship with him is that he loves touching you. in intimate settings you expected it, since your first interaction with him ended up in the hottest makeout you’ve ever experienced, but he’s proven that he can’t keep his hands off of you at any given point in time. 

he would stand with his hand on the small of your back while you were in line for coffee, a little possessive but you didn’t really mind. he would intertwine your pinkies while you were draped over him on his couch, a movie playing in the background as you soaked in his touch. most importantly, he would plant his gloved hand on your thigh at red lights while you were out on a ride, kneading at your flesh until he had to move his hand back to the handlebar. 

the first time he had done it, you were taken by surprise, so caught off guard that all you could do was stare at his hand through the lens of your helmet. the second time you were expecting it, and you had laid your hand on top of his, encouraging his touch. this was the third time though, and you were quickly and embarrassingly turned on by it. 

“bin,” you said, just loud enough for him to hear it over the rumbling of the engine. “can we stop somewhere?”

“stop?” he asked, a little incredulous. you weren’t heading to any specific destination, but rather taking a joyride around the backroads of town. “where?”

“anywhere,” you let your desire bleed into your voice as you hitched your hips closer to him on the seat. the slight stimulation of your panties under your skirt rubbing against your folds made you gasp. “need you.”

“fuck,” he groans, the wheels turning in his head as he realized what was going on. “okay, hold on for a minute, doll.”

you wrap your arms around his waist tight as he speeds off, ignoring that the light was still red at the empty stoplight. you tuck your head into his back and ride the waves of sensation from the bike, letting the waves of arousal pulse through you freely. he slows to a stop at an abandoned gas station, no sign of life for miles, and before you can blink he’s cut the engine and slid off the bike. 

he takes your hips and turns you until you’re sitting sideways, facing him with your legs spread out, and he kneels on the concrete and fixates on the space between your thighs. he spreads them a little further and flips your skirt up and he moans at what he sees.

“so wet already?” the look on his face is so indulgent, like a cat that just got the sweetest cream. “just from one touch?”

“it’s you,” your eyes droop as he pushes your panties to the side and dips a gloved finger into your folds. your words are already slurring together and he smiles when he notices, the bastard. he moves his hand to his mouth, teeth grasping at the pointer finger of his glove to pull them off, but you stop him with a hand to his wrist. “keep them on.”

he falters for the first time, raising an eyebrow at you when he digests this new information. his hand returns to its home between your legs and he touches you hesitantly, his actions quickening when he hears the responding moans that spill from your lips. he dips two if his fingers inside you as his thumb rubs at your clit, the soft leather of his glove feeling absolutely perfect against your slippery skin. 

you come fast and hard, almost falling backwards off the bike with the force of it; he scoops his free hand under you before you could and holds you close against him as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. he whispers praises and sweet things to you as he cleans you up as best he can before returning to his seat in front of you without taking care of his hard on - he was sweet like that, caring about your pleasure and not his own. the ride home is quiet with you draped completely against his back in order to keep your balance on the bike. he has to help you stand when he parks, your legs still jelly-like and weak, and when he removes your helmet your cheeks are flushed.

“you’ve spoiled my gloves,” he pouts, pressing a kiss to your head as he leads you inside. “how are you going to clean them up for me?”

[eldritch-spouse]

Woah hey, you just ran into a fey-

Say hello to Mooncalf !

Do not give him your name.

This not-so-little trickster has been in a deep sleep for a looong long while. It's unclear what got him to stir, perhaps the abnormal phenomena Earth is going through all of a sudden, but now that Mooncalf is wide awake, he has a lot of playtime to catch up on.

Monsters of his kind are some of the most dangerous you could ever find. Short of siadar themselves, these entities often hold far too much power for their immature attitudes. They love games and they hate to lose, to come out unscathed is to have impressive wit. Thankfully, they're quite rare.

Aligning himself with no one's values or goals, Mooncalf lives for the thrill of self-amusement. For deceit, games, music, comedy- His desires as simple and gentle as they can be dark and sadistic. The real consistency of fey like him lies in their worship of the lunar cycles, from which they claim their power is drawn from.

To catch his attention is to reveal yourself particularly unique, or simply stand out at the wrong time in the wrong place. Either way, you're assured a joyride in a pocket space that'll leave you more than a little rattled. Even if you never allow this fey to have ownership over you the proper way, Mooncalf is possessive and adamant that only he may interfere with your life's trajectory, a persistence predator more than anything else. His love for you translates into constant attempts to make your surroundings interesting and exciting, but oftentimes only result in giving you mild to severe anxiety.

Although fey are fond of disguises, many of them will have "go-to" forms, so while you see Mooncalf's bird-legged, hunched visage often, he may appear to you in other ways.

A consequence of staying asleep for as long as he has is that his magic has yet to shake off a certain inertia, which keeps his glamors static and prevent him from shifting back to his natural state. For this reason, Mooncalf avoids taking on his conventionally attractive humanoid disguise. It grows quite irritating to stay in it for prolonged periods of time, causing him to become aimlessly violent.

A non-threatening, rounded form exists to aid him in drained or unsafe states, with the intent of appealing to any perceived predator's emotions and evoking merciful urges. This form is also excellent to preserve energy as a whole. Although presumably weakened when in this state, it wouldn't be a bright idea to just punt Mooncalf against the nearest wall.

When Mooncalf is entering a rut, he will "hunt" a possible partner by using the humanoid disguise and attempting to trick someone into stepping inside a pocket space.

Well. Good luck with bird legs.

[gojoidyll]

unknown ! yandere x reader

someone from the penacony cast is a yandere for you. the problem is...you don't even know who they are or that they are the one who is trying to keep you in penacony in the first place.

Imagine that during your long awaited vacation to Penacony is going well but your vacation takes a quick turn for the worse when your small space cruiser gets high jacked by some low grade thugs who take it for a joyride and end up crashing it.

Low-n-behold, you are now stranded on Penacony with no money (you left all your credits on your cruiser for safe keeping and those thugs stole it before making their getaway after crashing) and no way of getting home.

And what's worse, your insurance refuses to pay you for your crashed ship. In other words, you're stuck. Which was how you found yourself working three jobs in Penacony and barely getting any sleep as you rushed to have the funds to afford your new found rent problems and the funds to fix your cruiser. You would buy a new one, but many repairmen have told you that it would be cheaper to fix the damn thing instead of buying a VERY overpriced new one.

And they were right. You checked the markets and those new cruisers were way too expensive for you. Even the used ones were something you couldn't afford.

So, with all hope seem to be lost, your shifts are work getting tougher, and your eyebags getting darker - you truly thought you would never be able to go back home and put this nightmare vacation behind you. That is until you meet the members of the Astral Express.

They were very good people. People who you became quick friends with. The MC was kind to you (but seemed to have a weird obsession with trashcans), March was always hyper but fun to be around, and Dan Heng (though the quiet one of the group) was nice and even offered to help you in some of your jobs.

And then came along Himeko and Welt who graciously offered you a spot on the team as a Trailblazer. You could take a ride with them and go home, or join them on their journey wherever it may lead.

Suffice to say, you enjoyed your time in befriending the Astral Express crew that you couldn't help but to join them. Your worries for money and fixing your old cruiser were long gone as a new chapter in your life started.

However, when a certain someone heard of your new found escape, they couldn't help but to seethe with a quiet rage.

They hired those thugs to wreck your vehicle so that you be stranded in Penacony. They discretely made it to where prices were to high for you to fix your cruiser or buy a new one. They made sure that you would stay forever.

And yet some no-name outsiders were getting in the way.

"No matter," they said, the shadows covering them, "this place used to be a prison after all. I'll keep you here one way or another."

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You Series Masterlist

26 Worlds, 26 ways of pleasure

All of these stories are not connected so you can jump around as you like. There will only be 26 prompts in this list, one for each letter of the alphabet.

MDNI - 18+! This entire series is explicit!

Each piece will go into deeper warning tags, please be mindful of your consumption!

♡ Yours, Layla

Main Masterlist

⋆ ˖ ⁺ ‧ ₊ ☽ ◯ ☾ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ˖ ⋆

A for Aphrodisiac (18+): ~2.2k words

✧ On a quest to save your little brother, you and your fated companion Dream of the Endless, run into a small problem in Aphrodite's Temple.

B for Breeding (18+): ~1.7k words

✧ You, Swan Maiden of the Lake become King Morpheus's favorite concubine, but it's not enough.

C for Cockwarming (18+): ~770 words

✧ You and Dream come to a compromise after you asked for some "space." It never ends well for you, does it?

D for Doggy (18+): ~2.9k words

✧ How does an Endless teach you a lesson? Maybe on your hands and knees.

E for Edging (18+): ~4k words

✧ Hell hath no pettiness like a woman ignored.

F for Face Sitting (18+): ~1.4k words

✧ You've waited for 106 years for an apology. So an apology you shall receive.

G for Grinding (18+): ~700 words

✧ Your famous last words: "until my thighs fall off"

H for Heat (18+): ~1.5k words

✧ Dream comes back victorious, helm in hand, after his duel with Lucifer but he comes back to you amidst a horrible heat.

I for Incubus (18+): ~2.9k words

✧ You suppose the deal technically went correctly, but when the incubus said he required your life force, you thought he meant... well your life.

J for Joyride (18+): ~1.6k words

✧ You meet an absolute dream boat after coming out of the theaters with your friends. He promises you the ride of your life.

K for Kleptomaniac (18+): ~1.5k words

✧ You, Lucienne, and Johanna Constantine have decided to go on a girl's trip. Therefore, Morpheus was not invited and in his desperate yearning to have you by his side again, he steals something of yours.

L for Lactation (18+): ~1.7k words

✧ Pregnant with his child and in pain, Morpheus helps release some stress.

M for Muzzle (18+)

N for Neighbor (18+)

O for Offerings (18+)

...

...

...

More to be added soon ❀❀❀

[omega-e123]

Hey! Welcome in.

Keep good vibes around here, yeah? If the content isn't your cup of tea, kindly walk towards the exit, please. There are other pockets of space that will be to your liking! Venturing further, you may come across NSFW.

If you are a minor, please do not interact with my NSFW or be inappropriate.

Feel free to talk to me in my inbox! Whether it be sending in headcanons, gushing about Shadow, or or even saying “hello”, I'm all ears. ⁂ Do note I'm not one to take "requests". (they will most likely be deleted) ⁂ Answered ask tags: #➺ inbox , #➺ anon , #➺ [user] , ➺ inbox imagines (Imagines from you guys!)

Unrelated posts tag: #• the void speaks

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ───

✧.* Reader is usually written as a Mobian in mind, but can be read as human. Gender neutral.

✨: New 🐾: Explicitly Mobian

Masterlist:

Updated: 12/12/2024

𓆩⟡𓆪 Fics

✦ ... And He Chaos Controlled Away Not the best way to reveal your affection. A Week Before || The Incident || Conclusion

✦ Just One More Craving a proper kiss from him

✦ Joyride How is he picking you up for your date?

✦ Hesitation !! NSFW !! Suggestive. You've never gone past kissing, why? Suggestive

✦ Kabedon Exactly as stated. He pins you.

✦ Head Over Heals CW: Blood Mention You injure yourself trying on air shoes.

✦ In a Rut !! NSFW !! Smut. Being part hedgehog has its.. complications. Annual complications. Odd Behavior || Restraint || Indulgence || Adoration

✦ Aftercare When it becomes to much, “Chaos” is the safe word

✦ Comforting You had a rough day and he has the remedy to make it better

✦ Medicine Cabinet Shadow has his own little pharmacy at home

✦ Aboard the Ark You got sick and Shadow decides to bring you up to his previous home.

✦ One Too Many CW: Alcohol, Drunk You partied a little too hard and now it's time to go home.

✦ The Shadow Bakery 🐾✨ Sometimes the basic instincts of a cat can't be beat.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Headcanons

✫ Physical Contact

✫ Jealousy

✫ Royal Forbidden Love Lancelot!Shadow

✫ When You’re Sick

✫ The Winter Season

✫ Vampire!Shadow w/ @aelondrias

✫ Allergies

✫ Chronic headaches

✫ Trypanophobia (Fear of Needles)

✫ Shark Week

✫ Nightmare

✫ Birth Control During Rut

✫ Perfect Present For You

✫ Misc. Anon ✨

𓆩⟡𓆪 Minis

𓇻 Play Wresting

𓇻 Protecting you

𓇻 Chew Toy

𓇻 Softness of Your Hands

𓇻 His Tail

𓇻 First Time Affection

𓇻 Losing you

𓇻 Blood Transfusion

𓇻 The Ultimate…

𓇻 From behind !! NSFW !! 🐾

𓇻 Grinding !! NSFW !!

𓇻 Anxiety Attack

𓇻 Blood test

𓇻 Love Sick

𓇻 Grooming his Chest 🐾

𓆩⟡𓆪 Misc.

⋆ Who is Shadow? Mini personality analysis ig

⋆ Scenario Submission Black Doom / Mephiles threatening Shadow they'll hurt you by @aelondrias

⋆ Reincarnation (Not ship) What if Shadow found Maria again?

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 48

part 1 | part 47 | ao3

cw: mentions of smoking/sexual activity

Chapter 11

February

For two and a half months, Steve’s life goes perfectly. He didn’t realize how far into a pit he’d fallen until Eddie showed up to help Robin and the kids lift him out, but the difference is jarring. Golden hour sunlight after catching a matinée.

Steve spends two months blinking.

He sloughs off his sadness like a snake shedding skin; spends the winter getting back to being Steve, restocks his favorite hair products and restarts his fitness routines — morning runs through the woods, afternoon pick-up games with Lucas and some of his teammates when the weather doesn’t suck. Weightlifting in the evenings because Eddie says he likes how Steve’s arms look when they get a little big, says it’s more fun to pin him down when he knows it’s just for show.

And he tries new things, too, just because Eddie likes them or because the kids think they're cool. He reads a Vonnegut novel. He eats Indian curry. He even learns a song on guitar.

...Sort of.

Eventually.

(Actually, that whole thing goes pretty horribly and takes for-fucking-ever. Eddie spends an afternoon patiently encouraging him and doing his best not to tease while Steve clumsily moves through a beginner chord progression, and then breaks down wheezing when, after the sixth attempt with no improvement, Steve puts the guitar down in a huff and threatens to demote his pinky finger from his hand if it doesn't start cooperating. Eddie laughs so hard he tips face-first into Steve's crotch, and it takes them a sticky-spitty-sweaty half hour to get back to the lesson.)

Anyway, he likes the way their lives entangle. As easy as weaving his hands through Eddie’s hair.

He gets invited to band practice; he sits in on D&D. Sometimes he watches sports with Wayne when he's got a day off, then he heads out with Eddie for long joyrides through the countryside.

Eddie blasts his metal music when they get out to the backroads, and he talks too loudly over the bass and laughs even louder and rants about nothing and smokes cigarettes while he headbangs to his favorite guitar solos — almost lights his hair on fire on more than one occasion, fucking dumbass — and he does this silly, lewd shit that makes Steve's chest just ache. Makes it clench around the word that's been burning a hole in his tongue since New Year's Eve. Eddie wags his brows and palms himself through his jeans and asks if Steve wants to take another joyride when they get home, and Steve thinks:

God, I love you.

I love you.

How could I not love you?

And really, how could he not? And how much longer can he keep not telling him so? When it feels like the word is going to burst out of his chest Alien-style any second.

When it feels like Eddie's the reason he even has a home to get to.

Slowly — so slowly, hours spent thrifting and bartering and keeping an eye out for free stuff left out on the curb, even more hours sanding and painting and caulking and sweating to death between trips to the hardware store — they redo Steve's whole trailer. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, they exorcise the haunted tin can. They make it his; they make it theirs.

Eddie injects life into every inch of the space, fills it with weird art and funky lamps and a big, comfy leather couch that he likes to bend Steve over. Comes inside him in every room when they get done working on it as a reward; gasps in Steve's ear about how he always wants to be inside him: in his home, in his body, nestled deep inside his heart. "Keep me right here, baby," he breathes as he fucks Steve against a wall, his left hand gripping Steve's chest while he fills him from behind.

It’s perfect.

It's perfect.

Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts unless Steve asks.

And then, because this godforsaken town and everyone in it are fucking cursed, one day it isn’t anymore.

—

part 49

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[capacle]

Your definitely-not-stolen spaceship

Alright, here's my submission to the One-Page RPG Jam:

Hunk o' Junk

Play as a duo of space scoundrels trying to recover "their" impounded ship.

But here's the catch: the agent asked each of you to sketch half of the ship to see if your descriptions match…

Wait, what?

That's right.

You've managed to “acquire” a shabby spaceship, but before you could even take it for a joyride, it got impounded!

Now, your beloved vessel is locked away in a government impound lot, guarded by a no-nonsense agent who’s not easily fooled.

Taking turns, you're each describing and drawing half of the ship without peeking at your partner's masterpiece, adding more details as you go.

There's a bunch of tables with ways to alter the shape of the spaceship.

As you invent outrageous tales about these parts, you must slip in some clues to let your partner know where to add the same element in their mirrored half of the drawing.

And don't make it obvious to the agent that you're trying to coordinate your stories!

After a handful of rounds, you put your sketches together for the final review.

If your drawings line up when you're done, you'll fly away in your beautiful bucket of bolts.

If not… well, it's time to get creative with Plan B!

Hunk o' Junk is a light-hearted two-player story-drawing game (with solo and 3-player variants) that I believe will get a laugh out of you!

Especially when you put your two halves of the drawing together XD

If that sounds interesting to you, check it out here!

It's on s@le until the end of the jam!

[ereardon]

Darkness [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

WC: 500

Warnings: All angst

And in the darkness, she awakened. 

Fingertips on her flesh. Lips on her throat. Sighs in her ear. 

A beg, unspoken. 

She knew what he needed. There was a secret, buried deep within the dark spaces of silence that lingered between them. It was what was unsaid as they moved in rhythm. 

And when it was over, she held him in her arms and told him she would never let go. 

Bradley was quiet, but she knew what he was thinking. 

He needed her. 

***

The first time, she tried to say all of the things that had come into her head for the two weeks that he was gone. But he returned a shell. Gone was the man who stood on top of the wooden bar and sang at the top of his lungs, pulling her up with him, grinning as they swayed to the loud piano music emanating from the corner. 

The man who returned to her was a ghost of the man she loved. 

And yet, she persevered. 

She cooked his favorite meals, rented his favorite movies, organized trips to the beach. Nothing brought back the light behind his chocolate eyes. 

But when he reached for her in the middle of the night, his limbs warm on hers, she knew that he was crawling out of a nightmare she’d never see. 

And so she held him, flesh to flesh, lips on his, eyes closed but seeing all they needed to. 

And when it was over, she held him tight and promised to never let go, and finally the tears that had been building started to flow and she knew that the man who had returned had lost a piece of himself out there in the skies. 

***

Time passed, and things changed, but still she found herself reaching for him in the darkness, even when his side of the bed was cold. And the reminder that he was out there, in the unknown, burned a hole of fear in her stomach. 

But when he returned, and his side of the mattress was warm, there was still an emptiness that surrounded the bed. 

She stopped asking what had happened. 

As the lines in his face grew deeper, and as their house filled with the sound of children’s footsteps that turned from whispers to thunder, the silence grew as a weight between their hearts. 

And in the quiet, she closed her eyes. 

In the quiet, she wondered what her life would have been like if he had never stepped foot in that jet. 

In the quiet, she contemplated leaving. 

But then flesh begot flesh, and he belonged to her again, if only for a moment. 

And in the stillness, his eyes opened. 

In the darkness, he pressed his hand to her cheek. 

In the quiet, she opened her eyes. 

And then his voice, husky and deep, penetrated the air that stood so still around them. 

He asked for forgiveness, for the way he haunted her. 

She leaned forward and tipped her forehead against his. 

She needed him, too.  

Tagging some people who may be interested:

@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @shanimallina87 @taytaylala12 @th3-oncoming-storm @teacupsandtopgun @djs8891 @callsign-magnolia @callsign-joyride @sio-ina-bottle @startrekfangirl2233-writes @horseshoegirl @desert-fern @blackwidownat2814

[circeius-invidioso]

I do not get why the Red Corsairs are not a popular choice.

Like.

Like here is the elevator pitch for the warband and then we can come to some justified conclusion.

What isn't there to love?

You want me to turn into an infomencial and make a top 3 reasons why the Red Corsairs are great?

Cause I can.

And I will.

The Diverse Working Enviroment

Here in the Red Corsairs we might have started as Ultramarines but the barrier for entry is on the floor. So anyone can join.

You are Night Lord with a bad rep and no ship.

Buckle up we got you covered.

You are a Fallen and have 20 Dark Angels all up in yo business? Trying to shoot down the boss babe you are?

Fear not, or in our case. Know no Fear. We are strapped and don't get clapped.

You are a traitor that likes their Legion but sadly you got in our way?

Tough luck buddy, you will join or die and your geene seed will join our cause. Nothing personal battle brother. Just business as usual.

Everyone is welcome as long as they follow Huron's guidelines and don't aggitate the topless sweaty Khorne worshipping Ultramarines in the basement.

Sustainability

Unlike the corrupt Imperium of man and the corpse Emperor our leader is powered by miracles (which is trully a miracle how he survived but that on the next section), and we use 0 psyckers to power our crap.

Our carbon footprint is also minimum as we use salvaged goods and don't indulge in toxic industries that destroy worlds.

The Red Corsair base of operation is in the Eye of Terror and from there we expand our scope. A place greatly known for its constant shifts, and horrible conditions but the tan our serfs have are spectacullar from all that cosmic radiation.

Finally we are commited to recycling. As in we take from our victims benefactors and put those stolen goods to some great use. Nothing goes to waste, neither mortal, nor static object. If something is not nailed on the floor we will take it.

In fact we might take the floor too and the nails used to set it in place.

Nothing goes to waste!

Unmatched Leadership

Last, but certainly not least.

The man.

The myth.

The Legend.

Huron Blackheart.

Aka Lufgt Huron.

Aka what would happen if we gave a compressed Guilliman a daemonic familiar and left him to ferment in a warp storm.

Not only the name is so edgy you might cut yourself by saying it out loud. But also it's complex enough that if you say it quickly three times without twisting your tongue theres is a chance furniture might start levitating.

The man has put his Ultramarine brain to use and amased enough influence and power to put the Black Legion to shame.

Huron went from 0 to 100 in no time, he is a self made Warmaster. With no daddy issues or troubles in the world, he goes into battle blasting Alestorm in the voxxcasters.

He does not care.

He probably wears this when he wants to relax.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

He has a biker gang specifically organized to hunt down those who have betrayed him.

They slap those things on their armors not for the usual biker reason

(which fun fact the meaning is, 99% of the bikers are law-abiding, where the 1% are not. That's where the 1% comes from. The more you know 🌈)

no they wear that 1% because that's how high are your chances of escaping from them are.

Is that a bit extreme?

Yes.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

The dude once gathered his buddies and decided...

to you know. Have a casual outing. Nothing too serious, it was a sunday afteral.

So they decided on.

Kidnapping Guilliman.

Which they almost did if not for a Fallen of all people getting in the way.

But still.

The mad lad took Macragge's Honour and went on a joyride/ mini civil war.

Who in the galaxy can turn and say.

Yeah, I stole Macragge's Honour, almost captured my old Primarch. Told a daemon prince they are irrelevant on my way there. Anyway after crushing a fool who thought he could take my crown as king of the space pirates, I went to the home planet of the White Scars and kidnapped and tortured their Chapter Master. What did you do this week? 💅

Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

You tell me I can be an immortal, gorgeous chaos Ultramarine goth boy going on pirate adventures across the galaxy?

Where do I sign up?

I don't need ink for a signature.

I will use my own blood.

[marlynnofmany]

Early Efforts

 I was keeping Wio company in the cockpit, because piloting can be boring in empty space, when an alert dinged. Wio paused her story about an underwater race she’d won on her home planet. I held my questions while she tapped the controls, tentacles dancing across the console. Finally she sat back and relaxed.

 “Nothing big,” she told me. “Just a bit of metal junk among the rock.” One of the smaller screens zoomed in on a patch of space that turned out to hold a tumbling asteroid. “It doesn’t register as any known weapon, so it’s probably not a lost mine or what-have-you.”

 Surprised, I looked around the cockpit as if it would give me a view through the walls. “Is this area known for those?”

 “Nope,” said Wio. “But space is big and time is long. It wouldn’t be the first time idiots fighting each other didn’t give a flip about the rest of the universe.”

 “Yeah, or the last,” I agreed. “So what is it, if it’s not dangerous? Can we tell?”

 Wio turned a few knobs and flicked a switch. “Not from this distance. The readings I’m getting are of common ship-building materials.”

 “So it’s from a crash? Do you think it was that crash?” I pointed over my shoulder, again as if we could simply look back to see the wreck I meant. I probably wasn’t even pointing in the right direction. We hadn’t seen the joyriding accident in person, just heard about it when we picked up our latest cargo.

 “Ehh,” Wio said, studying a complicated set of imagery. “Don’t think so. Pretty sure the angle’s wrong. Possible, but unlikely.”

 “If it is, do you think they’ll want their part back?”

 “Depends on what shape it’s in,” Wio said with a wrinkle of her octopuslike forehead. “We’d have better odds selling it for scrap at the next station with a good mechanic’s sector.”

 I scanned the many screens and readouts, trying to get a feel for how much of a detour it was. “Do you think that’s worth checking?”

 “Sure do,” Wio said cheerily, tapping buttons and touchscreens, adjusting dials and fiddling with a couple odd bits on the console that I’m pretty sure were there just for fidgeting purposes. Wio was rarely still.

 “Should we — oh, you already pinged her.” I spotted the little red light that said the captain had been called. I expected a comm call as soon as Captain Sunlight got a spare moment, but she must have been nearby, because she just showed up at the door.

 “Yes?” asked Captain Sunlight, posture as regal as ever and scales a slightly brighter yellow than usual. I still hadn’t found a polite way to ask if the Heatseekers on the ship polished their scales or shed them in privacy for that occasional fresh look. Now certainly wasn’t the time.

 Wio spun in her chair. “Permission to make a minor detour for potential salvage?”

 “Show me.” The captain walked over for a better look, about head height since I was sitting down. She peered at the various readings and gave permission.

 And, since it really was a very minor detour, she just stood there and waited while we closed in on the lump of rock and metal. Soon enough we could see it on the main screen: turning end over end, traveling in roughly the same direction we were, just much slower.

 “No radioactivity,” Wio reported. “No air pockets either, and the chance of germs is near-zero.”

 “The components seem relatively straightforward for a bit of simple machinery,” said the captain, reading a chart that I’d thought listed something else.

 While they went over the analysis, I reflected that I really should ask Wio to teach me the basics of the controls in here. Not enough to fly — I was fully aware of how much training went into that — but just enough so I didn’t feel like an idiot Earthling who’d never been to space before when more than one screen was active.

 “Let’s use the grabber,” Captain Sunlight said. “I’ll prep the cargo bay.” She made several calls to different parts of the ship while Wio unfolded a portion of the controls that I hadn’t seen yet. It was labeled “Grabbing Arm.”

 “Ooh, how’s that work?” I asked.

 “It’s nice and intuitive for once,” Wio said as she ignored it for long enough to steer us right alongside the spinning lump. She locked the speed in (but didn’t make us spin to match it, thankfully. That would have been a bit much). Then she turned her attention back to the panel. It held several regular-sized buttons and one large black one — oh wait, that was a hole.

 When Wio stuck her tentacle in to manipulate the grabbing arm, I quietly shook my head. Of course it’s that kind of arm, I thought as a mechanical tentacle uncurled into view outside. Why would I expect anything with fingers on a ship made by Strongarms? 

 Captain Sunlight finished talking to whoever was in the cargo bay, and gave Wio the go-ahead. I watched the main screen as the grabber lined up carefully with the spinning mass of rock and metal, then gave it a calculated whack. A piece broke off and it stopped spinning.

 Wio peered at a readout. “Nonvaluable mineral,” she said. “I’ll just get the big part.”

 “How big is it?” I asked belatedly, not sure of the grabber’s size for reference. One of the screens probably said.

 “Small enough to fit!” Wio said. With a look of intense concentration (and several tentacles fidgeting behind her), she wrapped the metal grabbing arm around the asteroid and pulled it in.

 “I’m off to the cargo bay,” announced Captain Sunlight. “Keep it nice and gentle.”

 “Will do. No explosions of dirt on the floor if I can help it.”

 Captain Sunlight nodded, even though Wio was watching the screen, and she left. I looked between the two.

 “I’m going to see if I can help,” I said, getting up.

 “Sure thing. I’ll watch from here.” Wio gestured with another tentacle at a small screen on the side that had a great view of the cargo bay. Several crewmembers were waiting by the airlock.

 I hurried down the hall on my long human legs. I wanted to see what this thing was. Maybe it was important, or valuable, or both. Probably not, but who knew?

 When I got there, the airlock was already closed again, and Eggskin was putting away their hand scanner. Blip and Blop each had a hand on the lumpy rock about the size of a two-person hoverbike. They seemed to be the designated “hold it in place” team, which they were good at, because of all the muscles. The goggles they wore and the pickaxes shoved in their waistbands said that might not be all they hoped to do.

 Eggskin said, “No trace of anything biological,” and moved to stand beside the captain. The two Heatseekers were a healthy distance from the rock, clearly to give the Frillian twins plenty of pickaxing room. I thought I could see a bit of metal among the lumps, but it was hard to make out. The rock looked like several pieces had clumped together around it. I couldn’t say whether they were stuck with glue, welding, or just gravity and time. A smattering of gravel had already fallen to make the floor treacherous.

 Blip and Blop seemed aware of that, since they moved their feet by sliding instead of stepping. At Eggskin’s declaration, the captain nodded a go-ahead, and the Frillians grabbed their pickaxes.

 A voice from behind me complained, “I was going to watch…”

 I turned to see Zhee retreating back into the hallway, all gaudy purple exoskeleton and disapproval.

 He continued, “But I think I’ll wait out here.”

 I asked, “Do you think the chips are going to—” then the first pickaxe hit with a thunderous clang, and I hustled out to join him. Captain Sunlight and Eggskin had also backed up further. I was pretty sure one or both of them were saying words of caution, but I couldn’t make it out for sure.

 Zhee clicked his pincher arms and angled his antennae in disapproval. He probably had opinions about the best way to disassemble the chunk of rocks and nonsense. Zhee always had opinions.

 A concerned voice from down the hall asked, “What’s happening?”

 I called back, “Salvage.”

 Paint trotted up, her expression worried and her mottled orange scales less shiny than the captain’s. I’d definitely have to ask about the polishing sometime. Maybe.

 “What kind of salvage?” she asked.

 I told her, “Rocks and metal.”

 Zhee said, “Loud and messy.”

 Before Paint could press for details, the axe noises were replaced by a minor avalanche of rocks etcetera collapsing onto the cargo bay floor. The silence afterward made me rub my ears.

 Paint looked around the corner, then dart forward. Zhee and I followed.

 The pickaxes were already set down in favor of hands for picking through the mess. Blip and Blop pulled out something long and angular, each grabbing a different end and having a split-second tug of war like two puppies with the same stick. Then they held it up for the captain together.

 “Got it!”

 “Look at this!”

 We all looked. It was dented gray metal, long with a couple of joints, and with wires dangling out the bigger end. Straightened out, it would have been a little taller than the Frillians.

 I asked the obvious question. “What is it? Broken antenna?”

 Blip rotated it, peering at the wires, then the bent sections. “I don’t think so. These parts seem supposed to move.”

 “Yeah, and this end’s serrated!” Blop said, pointing at the narrow end. “It’s almost like…” He grabbed the last two segments and wrenched them together. The metal screeched. The serrations fit together perfectly, in a startling imitation of Zhee’s pincher arms.

 We all looked at him.

 Zhee hissed quietly and angled his antenna into extreme displeasure. “Keep breaking,” he said.

 “What? Why?” I asked.

 Zhee pointed a pincher. “It is old enough to be ugly. An embarrassment to Mesmers everywhere.”

 A few careful questions and one angry rant later, it became clear that this Mesmer at least was certain that every one of his species would be personally offended by the sight of this relic’s lack of vibrant colors and/or gemstone decorations.

 No, it hadn’t lost its decorations; there were no sockets for gems. No, it hadn’t lost its paint; there were no traces, and paint was only for utter peasants who couldn’t anodize metal.

 “Ask Trrili,” Zhee challenged. “She’s from a different moon entirely.”

 Captain Sunlight quietly called Trrili to the cargo bay to give her opinion on something unspecified. Trrili arrived in a storm of shiny black and blood-red, taller than Zhee and curious why she’d been summoned. She caught sight of the relic.

 “Throw that out the airlock immediately,” Trrili hissed.

 Zhee said, “I suggested they break it.”

 “That’s good too.”

 I said, “I can’t believe no Mesmer ever would want to keep this for historical value, if it’s as old as all that. It’s a ship’s grabber arm, right? It might have broken off in some historical battle or something! It could be incredibly important!”

 They said, “It’s not,” in perfect unison.

 Wio’s voice came over the loudspeaker from where she’d been watching on the cameras. “There’s a Mesmer colony not far from here. Public info says it’s relatively new, so not the one that lost that, but it would take some detailed math and a huge map to track how far it could have drifted in that many centuries anyway. It can’t hurt to ask them if they want it for a museum, right?”

 Zhee said that would be deeply embarrassing to even ask.

 Trrili wanted nothing to do with it.

 Captain Sunlight decided it was worth a shot.

 Both Mesmers stalked out of the cargo bay with loud declarations that they would be on the other side of the ship, and not to bother them until the shame was done with.

 The captain asked Blip and Blop to clean the thing up as best they could. Paint volunteered to help, and ran to get brushes.

 I asked permission to be in the cockpit during the phone call. Surely that opinion couldn’t be universal. Surely.

 Or, I learned soon after, maybe it could.

 “A what?” asked the local authority, a pink-and-blue Mesmer with glittering chips of crystal forming intricate whorls on her exoskeleton. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

 Captain Sunlight addressed the screen with dignity. “A historical artifact of Mesmer design. It appears to be a mechanical version of your glorious blade-arms, made of gray metal.”

 “That’s disappointing,” the authority said with a flick of both antennae. “Kindly throw it into the nearest sun.”

 I blurted, “What?”

 Captain Sunlight gave me a look, but didn’t say to be quiet. I took that as permission to keep talking.

 “But this is part of your history! A record of how you got where you are!”

 “Ah, a human,” the Mesmer said with a sigh. “Tell me, when your offspring commit an act of art for the first time, you are proud, yes? And so are they, for a while? You might even put it on display. But then they grow up and never want to see it again out of shame? This does not deserve a place on the fridge. Into the sun it goes.”

 Nothing I could say would sway that decision, not that Captain Sunlight let me try for long. She turned the conversation to business, and ended up convincing the Mesmer authority to pay us a small fee for the inconvenience of going out of our way. (We were on official courier business, after all, and time was money.) (Yes, people say that even in space. The Mesmer didn’t bat an antennae at it.)

 The final agreement also included an escort ship, partly to make sure we really did get rid of the thing, and partly to help us do so. It had a tractor beam thingy that could be set in reverse to punt things across the starfield. Very handy for launching artifacts into the sun. No, I didn’t ask what they normally used it for. That kind of tech could easily have been an accidental discovery, and I wasn’t about to bring up any other possible sources of cultural embarrassment.

 But I was going to quietly give my respects to the ancient bit of machinery before it was atomized. I stood in the cleaned-up cargo hold next to the unassuming piece of dull, dented metal. Crouching, I ran my fingers over it, committing the feel to memory: from the torn wires to the crooked serrations. A couple of those little teeth were bent. I’d never know what bent them.

 Loud conversation approached, and my crewmates entered the room, bustling around to prepare. I stepped back as the captain arrived, and I took up a position by the door. I had a good view of the airlock from there.

 As Blip and Blop in their exo suits hefted it to throw, as Wio angled the ship to get us in line with the escort, as Captain Sunlight gave the command and the relic was launched toward the distant sun, I silently gave my respects. I sent mental appreciation to the ages-ago Mesmers who had made it.

 Great job, you guys. You must have been SO proud. 

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[minasattic]

“not while i’m here.”

park jihyo x fem!twice 10th member reader; fluff

warnings: none!

a/n: a short one :)

wc: 523

-

you didn’t know what time it was, but you guessed it was at least past midnight.

your phone had died around 11:30, and without your gps, you had gotten lost while walking back from your friends house. you would have called a manager to pick you up, but it was late and you were certain that you could get home yourself. the whole way home, you couldn’t help but feel unsafe. you knew that there were people who would prey on girls like you, so you rushed home as quick as you could.

you unlocked the front door, silently praying that Jihyo wasn’t waiting for you. you were tired, cold, and definitely not in the mood for a scolding this late at night.

you stepped in, slipping your shoes off and glancing around the living space. a sigh escaped your lips as there was no sign of the older girl. until the kitchen light suddenly turned on, revealing the very person you were trying to avoid sitting in a chair facing the door. you jumped, scared out of your mind. “oh shi-“

“language Y/N.” Jihyo said in a stern but calm voice. She crossed her legs then looked you in the eyes. “Explain, now.”

you had no idea where to start. words started gushing out of you at a fast pace. you were stuttering over your words all while you tried to avoid the older girl’s eyes. you explained how you had gotten lost on the way home, then your phone died leaving you with no way of communication. how you had tried to come back as quickly as possible. how you were walking alone in the dark and how you were so scared that something bad was going to happen.

her gaze softened as she watched tears start to pool in your eyes. you sobbed out, “i’m sorry unnie… i’ll do better next time.” Jihyo quickly got up from the chair and walked over to you, enveloping you in her arms. your head buried into her neck as she kissed your head softly.

she took your face in her hands, looking into your eyes. she wiped the tears from your cheek and said softly, “Y/N i’m sorry for being stern. no one will ever hurt you, okay? not while i’m here.”

you thanked her, promising you won’t be out late ever again. she kissed your cheek before playfully giving you a warning. “Y/N-ah, if there is a next time, call me before your phone dies. unnie will pick you up in her car and we can take a joyride!” you giggled. jihyo always knew how to cheer you up. “now let’s go to sleep, it’s late and you’ve had a rough night.”

you nod, turning to walk away before stopping. you look back towards her, softly asking “unnie, can i sleep with you?” jihyo smiles sweetly as she nods her head. the two of you go into her room. she lets you wash up, then you slip into bed.

she immediately wraps her arms around you, and feels you immediately relax into her touch. she then kisses your head softly. you quickly fall asleep in her soft, comforting embrace. you finally felt safe, and it was thanks to her.

thanks to your leader.