#sorry if there are typos or mistakes

[greyias]

Oh look, it seems everyone has been opted into the unfortunate "experiment" now. For everyone who has been blissfully using the old UI up until now, welcome to hell :)

Do you not like hell? Do you want to leave and crawl back up into the sunlight of the old UI? Well, have I got a link for you! A beautiful tumblr user (who is not me) has gone and fixed things beautifully for you already: https://github.com/enchanted-sword/dashboard-unfucker

You will need to have Tampermonkey installed on your browser of choice, and once that's done, just go to the github link above, and peruse the readme to install. And voila! You have your old dash back!

The authors of XKit Rewritten said during the experiments that at the time, since this was an "experiment" they weren't going to implement anything to revert to the old UI (although who knows if they'll do it now). And the dashboard unfucker has worked beautifully enough for me to where I genuinely couldn't tell if they had ended the experiment or not.

[l3viat8an]

Mammon waking you up by going down on you (with prev consent ofc) or you waking Mammon up with a BJ >_<

Nsfw!

Honestly thought this posted already- cuz it was supposed to be in queue for Mams birthday jsksjsk

I feel like that would happen all the time after you start dating Mammon! I mean he just can’t get enough of you and it is a rather nice way to wake up~

And really some mornings he gets so needy and you look so sweet laying there next to him that he just can’t keep his hands or lips off of you.

At first Mammon was just planning to kiss you, a few kisses down your neck and chest wouldn’t hurt right?- then he starts going lower, moving your clothes out of the way so he can keep kissing your skin, down across your chest and tummy and somehow he ends up between your legs… oops~

You wake up slowly, your mind groggy with sleep and pleasure as your eyes open and all you can see of your boyfriend is a lump under the covers. But as soon as you wake up and start grinding your hips to meet his face a little harder Mammon grabs your hips to pin you back down. At the same time he lifts his head to look up at you, which makes the covers fall back a bit so you can see his face, (his hair is an absolute mess too but that’s not super important :D) a crooked little smirk on Mammon’s face as he sits up enough to press a few more soft and wet kiss across your tummy. Mumbling out “Mornin’ darlin’.” against your skin before he goes right back to what he was doing- making you cum on his face-

He thinks its cute how you try to prop yourself up a bit on your elbows to look down at him and enjoy the show, chuckling to himself as he sucks on your clit just right, that it has your head rolling back and you have to plop right back down onto the pillows because it felt that good.  After all he knows all your sweet spots.

Neither of you talk much but Mammon would praise you for being so good and cummin’ for him, ya should let him take care of ya more often~

Sooo of course it’s only right that you ‘repay him’ wake him up head the next morning.  

Again not hard Mammon almost always has ‘morning wood’ when you sleep in the same bed.

While you’re under the covers tease his tip a bit -trust me- before taking his cock all the way into your mouth.

As soon as you start Mammon’s awake and you can hear all his breathlessly, little moans of “Yea~” and “Oh fuck, yes darlin’, just like that” I’m telling you he can’t keep his mouth shut- “S-shit- Don’t stop fuck.” and even more, “Please- Yea, like that, faster.”

There is a special something -not quite tenderness but that’s the closest word you can think of- to Mammon in these moments. Even as you have his cock in your mouth, even as he groans under his breath and his legs tense. Even as he grabs a handful of your hair and gently pushes you down a little bit to see if you can take him even further down your throat, he’s not trying to be mean but he loves it when you gag on him. Making him moan even louder “Shit- So fuckin’ g-good treasure.” as he cums down your throat.

Maybe it’s the way he smooths over your hair as you swallow his cum. Or maybe it’s the way he starts to pull you up to lay your head on his chest and wraps his arms around you as tightly as he can immediately after. It’s all done with care, as if you’re the most precious thing in his room. And of course to him you are.

(Although if you wanna tease Mammon a little more instead- sit up before he can pull you up and let the covers pool around you as you make a show of licking the last few drops of his cum off your lips ;))

[lynaferns]

Hi, hello. Did you say big bat vampire dca au? As in, they’re big bats? 👀

That sounds really cool!

Yeah, although I don't have a clear image of them yet.

I made a doodle of the three half(?) transformed

They are mixed species but each resemble one more than the others. (I messed up eclipses ears, drew the wrong shape)

(whoops little ramble about bats)

Sun is an Indian Flying Fox, a fructivore bat. They are one of the bigguest (1 to 2 ft tall and 4ft wingspan (great for hugs/j)) and helps with the forest pollinization. They can fly 40km in one night. They lack echolocation but has a better eyesight than other bats. It's endangered due to humans haunting them for their meat.

Moon it's a Common Vampire bat (and a bit of White Winged bat for the colors), they eat mammal blood. There are 3 vampire species: the common, White-winged and Hairy-legged, the common can eat blood from any mammal while the other two eat mainly from birds and humans. The common vampire is a good crawler, so they'll prefer to get close to their prey from the ground. The white-winged has these glands in its mouth that uses to spit a really nauseating smell when its being molested (like skunks but these spit on you), there is sulfur in the spit.

Eclipse has the more clear mixes to see and it's the smallest of the three, its a Welwitch bat (it has freckles!!), a big eared and has part of canyon bat (because of the colors too). It's insectivorous, they help with plagues. They pretty much just vibe, just leave them be eating half their weigh in bugs and both of you'll be happy.

Nor the vampire or fruit bat has tails.

And they all can give you

Rabiessssss ✨

I didn't look into every especie there is of bats, first of because there are like 1,000, most of them insetivorous, and second because there is varely any info about any especie that aren't the common ones.

[appalamutte]

When Eric finally, after three hours of deliberation, decides to take a shower, the oven timer sounds from across the apartment.

"Shoot, hon," he says to a sleeping Deke as he scrambles half-naked down the hall and into the combined kitchen-slash-living room. The dog doesn't even pick his head up—just opens his eyes and raises one ear from the worn-down dog bed in the corner beside the couch. "What is your daddy going to do? Forgetting I put some apple turnovers on, Lord, my mind is plum gone."

A small waft of smoke burns at his eyes when he opens the oven door. The turnovers are a touch too crispy, blackened on the bottoms in a way Eric's always disliked and his family's always preferred. He sets them to cool on top of the stove.

He also lights an apple pumpkin candle, just for the hell of it.

Maybe he even still grabs one to eat.

Some hockey game is playing on the television when he goes to sit on the couch. Eric doesn't even remember turning the television on, let alone deciding to watch the game tonight of all things, but the Falconers are currently losing against the Canucks in the fourth quarter and the turnover tastes like burnt flour in his mouth and Eric was fired from his job, for the first time in his life, earlier that morning.

Deke stands from the dog bed—oh, who is Eric fooling, it's an outdoor patio cushion Eric bought on clearance a few years ago that was the perfect size for Deke to lay on—stretches, yawns, shakes sleep off his body and joins Eric on the couch. Noses his way toward the turnover in Eric's hand, digs his paws into the thin cotton of Eric's underwear to stand up, up, up until Eric's forced to shove the rest of the turnover into his still-full mouth.

"Down," he mumbles out, and Deke doesn't listen, but he does lick at Eric's face and that's okay, too.

"Mashkov chips the puck up the ice into Canuck territory, St. Martin goes to pick it up," the announcer is saying, the bright white light of the game clashing with the soft lamplight of Eric's apartment. "Bit of a struggle with Canuck's number twenty-eight, though St. Martin is able to snatch the puck and send it up to Zimmermann, who—"

"What am I going to do with you?" Eric asks once Deke yawns again and lays halfway onto Eric's lap, belly-side up and ears flopped this way and that.

His phone lights up from the side table, buzzes once, then goes dark again. Eric ignores it for all of two seconds before he snatches it up and unlocks it, seeing seven missed phone calls, fifty-two text messages, three emails, a handful of Twitter notifications, and a reminder from Tinder that his profile will be hidden soon if he doesn't log back in to it. That one is immediately deleted, as well as his emails—all from clients who haven't been told he's no longer with the company—but the Twitter notifications grab his attention long enough that he misses out on the goal the Falconers score until the network starts showing replays.

"What a goal! Wow, Rick, I have to say, despite the rough game they've had up until this point, Zimmermann may have just turned their spirits around. I mean, talk about an all-around masterclass of a shot. He's been quiet all night and then he does this? It's like he's been waiting until this moment to make something happen."

The cameras flick through a series of shots: the full rink from above, panning across the team celebrating at the bench, coming in close to where Robinson's pulling Jack down to Mashkov's wide-open arms for a hug. The joy is palpable. The smiles are wider than Eric would expect for a goal in a lost game. Jack doesn't look so frustrated now, not like he was looking the other night over the phone, and he makes eye contact with the camera as St. Martin comes in to pat against his helmet and Jack winks.

He—he winks.

The screen changes to that of the announcers as soon as Eric registers what he just saw. Surely, that wasn't—he didn't—now, Eric might be a gullible person under the right circumstances, but he's not delusional; he knows Jack doesn't know he's watching the broadcast because they haven't talked since yesterday when Jack was still in Seattle and Eric's life hadn't yet fallen apart and today's game was never mentioned. Jack didn't wink for Eric. He winked for the camera, for all the fans, a culmination of the Falconers' media training and Eric's gentle pushing that he needs to be more personable, more charming, at least for the media.

But—something warm settles inbetween the spaces of Eric's ribs and slowly fills the cavity of his heart.

The Falconers still lose the game. The announcers mention that this is now the fourth game the Falconers have lost in a row. Eric watches until the station starts covering highlights from another game from earlier in the day, and when he turns the television off, he finds the apartment to be silent.

Though, not like before. Not like when he first got home from work six hours too early and turned his phone off and fell face-first on his unmade bed. Deke softly snores in Eric's lap now, hot to the touch. It almost smells like home did when Eric was ten and helping his Mama bake after school. For the first time in years, despite the circumstances, Eric doesn't have to set any alarms for a Thursday morning.

Jack's making a layover in New York tomorrow.

That is enough.

[ratguy-nico]

BoblinWeek Day 4: Admire / Favorite

My second drawing for the @boblinweek and this is a drawing totally rob from @t4tboblin but it was just too funny I had to draw it XP

The post:

This was gonna be a totally different drawing but I said "Fuck it" "I wanna do something different"

So yeah is a much simple style I said is more meme, but I wanted to try it and I did

Hope you like it though

Here without text:

[bluegekk0]

we see grimm wanting to bite vyrm, (he is hallownests #1 neck enjoyer, but does vyrm ever bite grimm? is vyrm hallownests #1 enjoyer if anything? also can i see a lil doodle of vyrm biting grimm i think it would be silly

He does from time to time, definitely not as often as Grimm does since he's not the one usually initiating the teasing. Not to mention, all the fur on Grimm's neck and shoulders (the primary love biting area for them) is covered in thick fur, which makes attempting to bite them a bit troublesome. Not that it would stop Vyrm, but getting fur stuck to his tongue can't be the most pleasant haha

Thought I'd draw them anyway, not the happiest with the result since my hands were not cooperating well today, but I hope it's good enough nonetheless

And as for the second part of the question, I do really like the mental image of him tinkering with pocket watches in his workshop. Yes, I do think they have an equivalent of those in their world, and Vyrm would undoubtedly be obsessed with the intricate mechanisms. So if there is a #1 pocket watch enjoyer in Hallownest, I think he can safely claim that title.

[backmarkerr]

please....can u speak on the conspiracy

So the conspiracy (more like a theory, really) is that Kimi was pushed out of the team starting in 2008 to make way for Fernando, who was more appealing to the big sponsor coming in. Before you click out thinking "Max, that's stupid, no team would throw a championship for a sponsor." I agree! But keep in mind that they didn't throw the championship, they fully expected to win the WDC with Felipe (and almost did) and did in fact win the WCC in 2008 with Felipe and Kimi despite everything. But there were really suspicious things going on. So with that in mind...

It's 2008. Kimi has just won Malaysia, the second race of the season. Three days after his win, there's this:

.

Ok, kinda weird, but whatever. F1 runs on rumours, right? Suggesting that Kimi might retire when he's doing so well is silly. And in the article they seem to be pretty ambivalent over whether it would be Felipe or Kimi to leave.

Fast forward to Spain two races later. Kimi scores his second win of the season and takes the championship lead. The season is shaping up pretty well for the defence of the title, you’d think this would be a good time for him, but again, the story du jour is Ferrari wanting Alonso in Kimi’s seat for 2009.

[x] I guess now we know at least Massa's seat is secure...?

If you’re like me, that sounds stupid. The reigning champion just won the last GP and his contract runs until the end of 2010, so this media narrative makes no sense. Something pretty catastrophic would have to happen for that to ever come to fruition, right?

So anyway, he gets a first row start in Monaco. Great, that's almost a surefire win/points, right? Wrong, he got a drive-through penalty due to the team not fitting the wheels to the car on time before the race start. Not a great race and he ends up outside of the points. Lewis is now ahead in the WDC by 3 points. Not really a disaster, but...

[x] what on earth...

[x] again the talk of retirement.... I mean, it's weird, right?

Zero points in Canada due to being rear-ended in the pitlane, which the team can’t control. Then he’s back to being neck to neck with his teammate and Lewis by the time the British GP is done in early July, with all three drivers on 48 points. Good news, right? Just gotta stay on track and not fuck it up somehow.

[x] sigh... (this one's a little harder to source as it was printed media, but I've seen this exact interview quoted in different pages)

So anyway, they change his front suspension for the next race in Germany. Kimi has always been very sensitive to changes in the car, so he knew something was wrong. Ferrari (via Michael, who was then head of development) say he's just not adapting well to the upgrades. Maybe, sure, but why aren't you bringing upgrades that are geared towards your world champion?

(an interesting remark from Mark Hughes here if you scroll down to the comments, which adds weight to Kimi not being listened to when it came to car development in 2008)

Bar a podium in Hungary, Kimi scores 0 points in 4 out of the next 5 races. It takes until either Monza or Singapore (hello crashgate!) for Ferrari to put his suspension back as it was.

He proceeds to get 3 podiums in the remaining 3 races but it’s not enough to catch up. By Singapore he was already 27 points behind his teammate (reminder this is the old points system) and very much expected to play the supporting role. In the penultimate race in China he very obviously gave up P2 to his teammate:

"I know what the team expects." [x] / [x]

Yet the narrative in the media and from Ferrari themselves is that his motivation is bad and he's not assertive. It was so pervasive that to this day people still parrot it and say he just didn’t care after 2007, despite Kimi always stating he was fully committed and clearly getting annoyed whenever journalists asked about his motivation even years later.

Montezemolo at the end of 2008 even 'joked' that "Kimi in the recent races was replaced two or three times by a friend, but next year he'll be back." Basically saying that Kimi wasn't really present, you know? An interesting thing to say when this absent driver scored 18 points in the last 3 races (three consecutive P3s), while the one who was amazing and had the team's full backing scored 20 (P7, P2, P1).

A whole 2 points' difference, maybe someone should hire that "friend"...

So why did they do this?

Well, the theory is that Santander (I promise this isn’t like the dumb Sainztander takes) wanted a Spanish-Brazilian lineup due to financial interests (Spanish bank, big market in South America with a looming IPO in Brazil), so Kimi was basically being pressured out of the team from early 2008 onwards. Like I said at the start, the team weren’t really throwing away 2008, as they expected to win the WCC with both drivers (they did) and Massa to be able to win the WDC, which would of course be beneficial for their new sponsor. And he almost did. Almost.

[x] they're not in charge of driver selection but this specific driver line-up would good for them. (this archived copy of the article is from 2010, but the text makes it clear it's from 2009)

Of course at this point we have to wonder if a team like Ferrari would bow down to a sponsor's demands. I can't tell you what the internal considerations were or how much money was on the line, but it's also not like Santander were telling them to get rid of Kimi for a bad driver, you know? Fernando is a great driver, so from Ferrari's perspective they were just trading a great driver for another great driver who also appealed to this huge sponsor, and an Alonso-Massa line-up would be solid. And with the previous talk that Ferrari and Alonso had already inked a deal in 2008... It's just difficult to believe there isn't a grain of truth here.

So the alleged initial plan of having Alonso in 2009 was foiled when Kimi activated the renewal option in his contract. It was then that he was bought out of his last year (apparently paid for by Santander).

[from the book The Unknown Kimi Raikkonen]

As we can see, by the end Kimi was also fed up with what was going on, especially people pointing the finger at him and at his motivation, and his frustration is very clear in interviews like here at 2.35 and here:

Publicly, Ferrari said they wanted someone more in line with how Michael used to be (ironic since Montezemolo allegedly didn’t like how Michael made the team his), who could communicate with the team and give better feedback (ironic when Todt, Dyer, Stella and others said Kimi was very clear and precise.) Kimi himself has always stated that he wasn’t the issue, that his motivation was never lacking and that the real reason he was pushed out was politics and money.

[x]

[x]

If it had only been the mechanical stuff, I’d be willing to chalk it up to just bad luck and incompetence. Shit happens. But with all the rumours around it even before things went bad on the track and Kimi stating that his work and performance weren't the reason he was let go it becomes impossible for me to think there wasn’t an actual push going on to replace him.

Hell, even famed Ferrari fanboy Sebastian Vettel didn't think it was realistic for Kimi to return to Ferrary in 2014 precisely because Kimi isn't one for "bullshit" and "politics". Why would he choose to say that specifically? And according to Finnish media Kimi’s 2014 Ferrari negotiations included Montezemolo personally apologising to him. Now why would he apologise if they hadn’t done something wrong?

Personally I think Kimi's "certain people did certain things" refers to this. He never trashed anyone and always said he had no ill-feelings. And I believe him. But it doesn't mean nothing happened, lest we forget how well he handled Lotus not paying him.

The thing that really bothers me is that Kimi got the reputation for having low motivation and not caring about what he was doing (I heard that take just last month from an F1 youtuber, how Fernando was hired in 2010 because Kimi had mentally checked out 🙄), when obviously someone who wasn’t motivated and didn’t care would have simply called it quits under these circumstances. Instead he got P3 in the standings in 2008 (I know he’s talented, but he must have been trying at least a little), trained hard to lose enough weight to use KERS in 2009 (why would he do that if he didn’t care) and took the team’s only win that year despite the car being shit. Interestingly, pundits acknowledged his good performance complicated things when it came to Ferrari’s rumoured hiring of Alonso. So imagine how much more complicated things would have been had Kimi done better in 2008?

Anyway, this is long, but if you want something longer then I definitely recommend this post here. You might not agree completely with the original authors (there are parts where I wish there was more info), but I think they offer a lot of good research and information regarding the overall situation back in 2008/2009, and it's a good jump-off point for your own research.

But yeah. 2008 could have been everything. Or at least better.

[cheapposts]

Scar wakes up and gets to live another day.

It feels so weird. So wrong. Wasn’t he supposed to die in the end? Scar is pretty sure he was. He saw it with his own eyes: every winner before him died in the end. But for some reason, Scar didn’t.

At first he was confused. Maybe there’s been some kind of mistake. Maybe he’ll drop dead any minute now. But then a day came by. Two days. A week. And no god struck him down with a lightning. Scar was becoming more and more weirded out by that. He tried taking matters in his own hands, but no amount of jumping from a cliff to his death led him to freedom. He respawned again and again, wearing the same clothes with poppies and lilacs, having the same red eyes looking back at him from the river, staring at the same shade of red his name had every time he took his communicator in his hand and typed, "Hey?", "Anybody alive?", "Hello?", because what if the reason why he’s still alive is that he’s not actually a winner yet? What if there’s another player, and all he has to do to end this is to find and kill them, or let them kill him? But he never found anyone, and two weeks after the day he won, he stopped searching.

Three weeks after the day Scar won, he already had a new house going on. He settled at the edge of the map near mesa. "Screw this," he figured, "I’m not going to just wander around the land for months if the gods forgot to kill me. I’ll do things!" And things he did. After he was done with his new house, he fixed his old base, and tore down Mumbo's tower, and built a couple of things here and there. It was nice.

The next week was spent relaxing. He tended to his crops and fed cows he’d stolen from someone (not that the person would mind; they were dead). He died once that week and woke up in his bed again, but at that point it was starting to feel normal.

Five weeks after the day Scar won, he finally had to admit that the gods were not going to kill him. That for some reason, they decided to trap him there. Or maybe that’s what their idea of a happy ending was, maybe Scar happened to become the winner of the final game, the final round, and this was his reward. Maybe all the other players have gone home. Maybe Scar’s the only one left behind, and they live on without him.

There was no use in thinking about possibilities. It was only upsetting him. No - terrifying him. Instead, he took the matters in his own hands once again, and paid a visit to The Secret Keeper.

"I don’t want that," he said to it. "If this is my reward, I don’t want it. I want to go home. To Hermitcraft. Back to my friends. Back to where they’re alive."

The Secret Keeper didn’t seem to react. Scar felt his chest heat up with rage.

"Get me out of here!" he yelled, voice wavering. "You psychos! I- I miss my cat!"

The Secret Keeper didn’t answer.

Scar went home, laid down on his bed, and spent the evening thinking about Jellie's warm fur and his friends' smiles.

Scar wakes up and gets to live another day.

[shizunitis]

No, ur absolutely so right about Bingcest. Preach louder because like. It’s just so fun. Any reason why they would be doing it is so fun. Is Bingge fucking Bingmei to show him how he needs to fuck Shizun? Is it a domination thing? What crazy kinks would Bingmei learn from Bingge? How would he try and incorporate them with Shizun? So many questions. I want Bingge to bite Bingmei’s lips when they kiss.

anon i love you and am willing to go through the abyss for you empty-handed and with my hands tied. will give you my firstborn. thank you for letting me talk about this please never leave me

now that the bingmei rp is over, and keeping in mind that i am forever sleep deprived, in a vaguely bingge mood, and also very sorry for what that means for any passersby, here’s my answer. horniness and thoughts (hopefully coherent enough) under the cut

though i find the shizun sandwich version of bingcest to be extremely tasty and a great apperitif, i feel like the pure bingge-bingmei storylines my brain throws at me every now and then are so fucking good (read: hhNnNg) on their own.

a non-exhaustive list of some ideas i didn’t ever think too deeply about but like for reasons:

what if bingge is bingmei’s shizun.

what if bingmei gets stranded in pidw.

what if bingge accompanies bingmei in the abyss.

what if instead of only having bingge and bingmei, we also throw in oo!lbh into the mix and make this the worst throuple to have ever existed.

what if the system fucks up and there’s two binghe’s from the very beginning, twins or clones or whatever, and they brave the world on their own so as not to strain the washerwoman’s already precarious situation further than they did the first time around.

what if bingmei wishes very, very hard for a father during his disciplehood, and the system plops bingge into his world when shen yuan is mia.

what if bingge goes out and tries to find the svsss world again but ends up in oo!pidw.

what if bingge and bingmei live to the ends of their lives and meet after the universe is wiped as cosmic beings and they have incomprehensible sex to soothe the pain.

what if bingmei suspects bingge came back to steal shizun during the monthly wifeplots, and just jumps the gun and goes after the fucker directly.

what if modern au.

what if modern au where they’re separated at birth.

what if actual lab clones of each other!

et cetera (many more examples. none of which i can think of right now and if i’m being honest? half of these i thought up on the fly, so i was lying. fibbing. other words. never ever assume i know what i’m talking about)

in any and all these situations shen qingqiu and/or shen yuan could and perhaps should be integrated, but for my purposes he can take a moment to breathe. i’ll return him his husbands shortly.

back to the point: i love every iteration of bingcest.

bingge and bingmei being very alpha vs. alpha about fucking and literally fighting for dominance. bingmei being horrible at kissing and bingge getting annoyed with the teeth thing and showing him how to actually bite someone (stealing your desires as they perfectly align with mine, anon) and then finding out that what bingge would consider lowly and ignoble (is that how you use the word? probably not), bingmei blushes and whines for so prettily.

exchanging blood and it fails to do anything but induce arousal in the other and then using that as a way to torment each other.

i want the snapping teeth and the clawing and the violence. the almost-tangible, suffocating hatred and frustration. them choking on their leashes tied together without their knowledge. choking on them where the’re tied to opposite ends of the bed as they try to get to the other. and so forth

but soft bingcest works beautifully too. don’t know how they’d end up in that situation but i’m picturing it and it’s very nice.

bingge’s vanity and desire to be perfect projected onto his own self staring back at him, bingmei’s bratty disobedience challenging bingge’s desire to subjugate and conquer and take, all of this culminating in the two of them understanding their differences but also loathing them in a way. why is he different, he’s me, why can’t he understand, why isn’t he doing what i would, why does he hate me, the likes

oh!! bingmei should yell that at bingge actually. or growl it while he pins bingge down to get him to listen to him. and bingge should want to say, “are you stupid?” but holds back because now isn’t the time. where did the brat even get that idea from? he’s done everything he could to make him stronger, to make him realise that the world is a shit, cruel place and they only have each other in the end, and yeah it’s a shit hand to be dealt, but is it? is it really?

hm. don’t really know where that thought ends up but i’m pretty sure it ends up with both of them fucking unbearably tenderly (by their standards) in a forest somewhere.

anyway.

i don’t mean to exclude shizun because. i wouldn’t fucking dare? but bingcest is. it’s dear to me. i’m a bingcest purist if you’d like, but bingcestqiu/yuan is second on the list. third is mobingcumplane/moshangbingqiu but that’s another thing altogether

(i have no actual clue if there’s ship names for these already. surely there are?)

BUT. adding shizun into the mix is wonderful. i’ve rec’ed it before but through the eye of a needle is SUCH a good fic PLEASE give it a read it’s my favourite fic ever ever in the history of ever

i love the idea of shizun trying to tame these two idiots and failing miserably. i also love the idea of him succeeding. i want bingmei making bingge drink some ‘respect shizun’ juice and i want bingge to give bingmei some much needed ‘fuck shizun’ lessons. i want shizun to direct their every movement while he casually drinks his tea and pretends like he’s not foaming at the mouth seeing the two protagonists being “forced” to go at each other like they’re passionate, devoted lovers.

just.

bingcest…

there’s so much i want from bingcest. i want the guilt, and the confusion, and the rage! i want the angst! the territorial spats, the dick measuring contests (literal and metaphorical). the comfort! the. idk man they should be allowed to be horrible to each other, it’s not like they can die.

(holy shit what if one of them dies. fuck i’m exhausted but please. kill one of them and make the other revive him. somehow. maybe we can make regret of chunshan reality but it’s bingcest, if you understand)

but mainly i want the two pretty idiots humping each other’s thighs like teenagers. making bingge crawl for bingmei is also a very fun thought that would make him (plural) react in a very entertaining way. getting bingmei to power bottom is chef’s kiss when bingge’s on the other end. teaching bingge about the beauty of surrendering to his own self, which he does not trust with anything but also understands more than he’d like or wants to acknowledge is also neat. they would get up to degeneracies that i can’t speak of. i’m shy and also inarticulate about them

oooh also lebingcest. exactly the same as before but it’s better. because lesbian yaoi

[anemicjellyfish]

About Stella

Been thinking about her character every now and then. This post was initially 100% about how her behavior left me thinking she was a spoiled brat for most of her life. But it evolved into something else. Sorry. I do still think she's a spoiled brat, though.

In Western Energy, Striker returns and successfully kidnaps Stolas. It isn't a surprise to us, as we remember Stella hired him previously in the Harvest Moon Festival.

This is a surprise to Andrealphus, however.

What gets me is that Andrealphus coddles Stella for a portion of their conversation. He also tries leading her to make a conclusion by herself without directly telling her what to think.

He gently brings his sister to the information that's most important: that the death of her husband wouldn't necessarily leave her in a good position, just Octavia.

It's only when Stella can't seem to connect the dots that Andrealphus has a little outburst of irritation (and sibling energy, like with the "you stupid cow" line).

After that, Andrealphus goes right back to his previous tone. He once again tries to bring Stella to the point without saying it directly. And when he eventually does get around to it, he's only making it as a suggestion.

Something about the way Stella is sitting, the way Andrealphus circles behind her, and the way he is still trying to convince her through suggestions instead of beinf direct... I have a feeling Stella has had this happen to her most of her life.

As much as I don't want to "go to bat" for Stella right before I go to sleep, I do get the feeling that she's been in this type of situation before. I feel like others, even if it's just her brother, have manipulated her into doing things that they want her to do.

I really think the rest of the Goetia will have a lot of subtlety in their social circles, and that social cues could be complex to navigate. Stella is direct with both her language and her feelings. I'm curious if she's an outlier due to that. And I'm wondering if she's been kept in this mentality on purpose (again, by her brother and/or other Goetia).

I do still think she's a spoiled brat. Her behavior is immature and crude, even before Stolas cheated on her. But I wonder if the reveal of her backstory (which we are supposed to get eventually) would shed some light as to why she is this way.

[fruitybashir]

I'm re reading holidate for the second time and im finding all these little notes that I left in the epub last time, and honestly i think me of the past was inspired for this one

oops, my hand slipped 😗

“Red please!” Bojan declares cheerfully as he slaps down a “+4” with a colour wheel. “And I am down to my last card.”

There’s a collective groan around the table and Bojan bounces up and down on the couch next to Kris, a big, happy grin on his face. Kris is fuming. He stares down at his fan of cards. Lots of green, some yellow, not a single red one. He grinds his teeth and draws another card.

“Aw, no reds? I’m sorry bejbi,” Bojan coos and presses a quick peck to his cheek. Kris feels like he might actually start biting.

Jure reluctantly lays down a red four, Jan follows with a red zero, defeat already painted on his face. Nace hesitates for a second, then a smile spreads on his face and he puts down a blue zero. There’s a collective Ooooh around the table and Kris feels a sense of righteous satisfaction that almost borders on concerning.

He turns to look at Bojan, expecting to see disappointment, annoyance even at having his win stolen from him for at least one more round, but instead what he sees is a wide grin, teeth shining, eyes wide. Victorious. Oh no.

Bojan lays down a blue six.

“Uno!”

Everyone tosses their cards on the table in frustration while Bojan giggles happily, already shuffling the cards for another round. Jure lights himself another cigarette, offering another to Jan. Jan puts it between his lips with an appreciative noise, then presses it against Jure’s to light it as well.

“I’m out,” Kris grumbles and slumps back into the couch. Jan shoots him a sympathetic look and bumps his foot under the coffee table. Kris’ patience for losing to Bojan usually doesn't last longer than five or six rounds.

“How did you even– but you asked for red.” Nace stammers, staring down at Bojan's blue six as if it held the answers. Bojan shrugs.

“I'm just that good,” he grins. Kris groans.

“You're so full of yourself.”

Jan pats Nace's thigh in consolation. “You did the best you could.” He takes a drag of his cigarette, then leans in and lets the smoke ghost over Nace's lips as he speaks. “I'm still proud of you.”

Kris wrinkles his nose as he watches them unashamedly make out right in front of all of them. Jure deals out new stacks of cards as if he doesn't even see them.

“Kris, you sure you're out?”

“Yeah, I need a break.” Kris says and Jure nods, skips his spot as he hands out the cards.

“You can be my cheerleader,” Bojan suggests, leaning close into Kris and with a giddy uplift to his voice that makes Kris want to drag him home, push his face into the pillows and shut him up. He takes a deep breath.

“Sure,” he says and turns to Bojan with the brightest fake smile he can manage. “Because you definitely need cheering on to win.”

“If I win the next game for you,” Bojan starts and does an unfortunately very good job at looking at Kris sweetly from under his eyelashes. “Do I get to kiss the cheerleader?”

Kris flexes his jaw.

“You know what?” he smiles and he rests his elbow on the backrest of the couch, reaches up to tuck a strand of Bojan's hair behind his ear. “If you win the next game, I'll wear the blue set tonight.”

There's a choking sound from the other side of the coffee table, then coughing as Jan and Nace's little shotgunning session comes to an abrupt end. Jure whistles.

Bojan's face lights up like the sun.

“Easy!” he declares, already reaching for his new stack of cards. “Fastest win of my Uno career.”

Jan shoots Kris a disbelieving look, deep betrayal written on his face. Kris just shrugs. He has a plan.

Kris leaves his arm on the back of the couch as the rest of the guys start the next round. He traces his fingers along the neck of Bojan’s shirt, just barely grazing the skin enough to cause a light shiver.

He lets Bojan enjoy his feeling of safety for two turns, then he lets his fingers wander up into Bojan’s hair. He twirls a few strands around his fingers, toys with them, then runs his fingers down again, along the side of Bojan’s neck and over his collarbones.

“Kris…” Bojan mumbles and his shoulder twitches, trying to shrug off Kris. He puts down a red seven, concentrating on the cards in his hands and closely watching what colours the others follow up with.

Kris has no intention of letting up anytime soon. He’s barely even started. He dips his hand under the hem of Bojan’s shirt, pressing his palm flat against the other’s chest and letting his fingertips brush over the dusting of chest hair there. Bojan sighs, but other than that, shows impressive restraint. He counters Nace’s yellow zero with a green one. Kris moves in closer.

He presses a kiss into Bojan’s hair, then brings his hand up further a little, to the base of Bojan’s neck. He doesn’t press down, but Bojan still tenses against him, and Kris can feel him swallow under his fingers. Bojan has to draw two cards.

Jan raises his eyebrow at Kris across the table, lips twitching with a barely suppressed smile. He’s definitely figured it out by now.

Kris grins, and draws his hand back. Bojan instantly lets out a breath that he probably wasn’t even aware he was holding, and Kris thinks it’s almost a little cute that he thinks he’s safe now. He runs his fingertips over Bojan’s back, along his spine and down, until he can lift up the other’s shirt enough to touch Bojan’s skin again.

“Kris,” Bojan makes, again, and there is a warning in there, but Kris knows that tone well. He leans down to press a kiss to Bojan’s neck. Bojan shivers. He hesitates, then places a green five.

Kris runs his fingers along the waistband of Bojan’s sweatpants to his sides, let’s his fingertips dance up and down, drawing patterns over the skin and he feels Bojan’s muscles twitch under his touch, his breath hitch when Kris traces over a spot that he knows drives Bojan crazy.

“Bojan?” Jure asks and there is audible amusement in his voice. “It’s your turn.”

“Huh?” Bojan startles, then he suddenly sits up straighter, letting out an annoyed noise as he rolls his shoulders to get Kris’ mouth off his neck. There’s a snort from Nace as Bojan places his “Skip turn” card and Kris is sure that if he could see Bojan’s face right now, he would find that the other is blushing.

He keeps his hand on Bojan’s side for another turn, showing at least a little bit of mercy before he brings his hand back around, rests his fingers against the base of Bojan’s spine. He lets his eyes wander over the table. Jan is only holding two cards now. Bojan is still holding four.

Kris dips his fingers under the waistband of Bojan’s pants, then the waistband of his briefs. Bojan tenses. Kris doesn’t stop. He pushes down a little further, his middle finger now resting over the dip of Bojan’s ass.

“One card left.” Jan announces on his turn.

“What- How?” Bojan stares down at his own cards, his finger worrying the corner of a “+2” card he’s holding. He’s trying so hard to stay focussed. Kris dips his middle finger between Bojan’s cheeks and Bojan straightens his back like he’s got hit by lightning. When Kris keeps shooting innocent looks around the table, he can almost see the pity on Nace’s face when the other places down a red “+2”.

Kris’s finger finds Bojan’s hole and Bojan’s breath hitches. He shivers. Kris pushes down, just lightly, but it’s enough for a small noise to escape Bojan’s throat, quiet enough that Kris is sure he’s the only one to hear it. Bojan draws two cards. Kris grins victorious.

Jure places a red four, Jan follows with a red zero.

“Uno!” he declares and the table cheers. Kris pulls back his hand and leans back on the sofa, away from Bojan.

Bojan gapes at Jan’s last card on the stack, as if they had somehow personally betrayed him. His head flies around to glare at Kris.

“You-” he starts and Kris shrugs.

“Well, that’s a bummer,” Kris says, purposely nonchalant. “I always thought the blue one really compliments my eyes.”

[lightwing-s]

no updates again today because i’m still out for carnaval, but i saw this today and thought it was so biker!jason coded i could not not post it here.

Imagine jason, who has gone through a lot in his life, who came back from the dead and has struggled with his mental health ever since. Jason who has had thoughts of ending it all since he came back, because everything has changed, everything hurts, and he couldn’t see happiness in anything at all.

And then, it all changed once he met you, and suddenly his world actually had life. He could finally feel happy again, but not only that, he felt love for what seemed was the first time in forever.

He felt alive because of you. He didn’t few sorrow anymore and it was all your fault. You were the beacon of light he desperately needed in the pitch black darkness he didn’t even dare to call life. A sub-life, that was what he had.

He bike was the only thing that made him feel alive. But not anymore. Now he had you. Now he had you and your baby. The baby you two didn’t plan, gosh definitely not. But the baby that came to save his life.

He finally saw a future for him that for the first time wasn’t clouded by pain. And he wanted to make right for that baby like no one had ever done for him. Your baby was barely the size of a grape, but he already loved it more than anything in the world.

You and him. You and the baby. Two reason to slow down, two reason to stay alive. The two things that made his life so much more worth living.

vídeo credits to @/bwoo_cbr on instagram

[transsongtaewon]

One thing about me is I could never be a system-admin because they would have noticed the typos waaaay earlier

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Day 19: "Please Don't" / Adrenaline Crash

@febuwhump prompt: "Please Don't" @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Adrenaline Crash

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Hunter, Omega, Wrecker, Tech, Echo (Did you read Day 5: Rope Burns / Bound & Gagged and Day 12: Semi-Conscious / Over-the-Shoulder Carry? This is a continuation! Follow the links above to catch up on the story so far) Word Count: ~3005 Click here to read on AO3 Also available in Russian (with thanks to @tech-o-mania for the amazing translation!)

Synopsis: Hunter loses control as he hunts down the mercenaries who captured and injured Omega.

Art by the awesome @collophora of my gorgeous Feral Hunter! Thank you so much for this beautiful pic and letting me post it with my fic, everyone go view collophora's original post HERE and tell them how great they are! <3

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

Omega swings her legs as she sits on the edge of the table, watching as Tech methodically extracts embedded strands of hessian from the wound on her left wrist. Her right is already swathed in bandages, the bacta gel bringing a soothing numbness that dulls the pulsing pain to a background throb.

She draws her breath in as a hiss though her teeth at a particularly painful pull, and Tech glances at her to check she is okay. He doesn’t continue until she nods to give him permission to do so.

The com at the engineer’s wrist crackles to life. “Come in, Tech.” It is Wrecker’s voice, low and urgent.

Tech pauses his ministrations to answer the com. “What is it, Wrecker?”

“I need backup.”

The big clone’s voice over the com is deadly serious, none of his usual joviality.

“What is your status?” asks Tech, his voice taking on a more clipped edge.

“It’s Hunter.”

Tech quickly looks up at Echo, and Omega doesn’t miss the alarmed look that passes between them.

“Will you and Omega be alright by yourselves?” Tech asks, putting the tweezers back in the medkit and standing.

Echo nods, resting a hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about us. Go help Wrecker.”

“Help Wrecker with what?” asks Omega, getting to her feet and looking first at Tech, then Echo. “Are they in trouble?”

“You are still in need of treatment,” says Echo firmly, trying for a smile which comes out too tense to be reassuring. “I’m sure Tech will manage without us.” He gestures back to the table. “Sit back up, and I’ll finish your wrists.”

Tech is gathering his equipment, and Omega leans past Echo to see him set his pistol to stun.

“I want to go with Tech,” she protests softly. “I want to check that Hunter and Wrecker are okay.”

Echo and Tech exchange another look. Omega is getting pretty tired of the unspoken conversations they share with their eyes.

“Finish attending to Omega’s wounds,” says Tech eventually. “Then you may follow… carefully.”

*

Hunter’s pistol is in his left hand, balanced on his forearm which is crossed in front of his body, vibroknife held blade outwards. The hum of adrenaline is in his veins, pulse pounding, slowly building to a tense knot of pain at the base of his skull which will surely become a migraine later.

Two more mercenaries up ahead, just out of sight. He can hear them.

Hunter doesn’t have to think about softening his footfalls. The predator’s stealth comes naturally to him.

In moments he is around the corner and the two men are ten paces ahead, weapons out as they scout the corridor.

They don’t know that death shadows their movements.

In his ear, the com pings. Hunter shakes his head, shutting it off irritably. Not now. Whatever his brothers want, it can wait.

He rolls to his toes, picking up speed. Closes the gap in a sprint.

One shot with his pistol. The laser-burn eats through the first man’s skull. The second turns but Hunter is on him, and the vibroknife tears out his throat before he can cry for help.

Hunter pauses for a moment, surveys his work. That makes four of them he has eliminated now. Four of them who harmed his Omega. Four of them who will never threaten her again.

A high-pitched whine, like tinnitus, sets up in his head. He pulls his helmet off, rubbing his ears, trying to chase away the source of the sound.

His helmet is dropped to the floor, forgotten, as he sets off to find the rest of his quarries.

*

Tech tilts his datapad towards Wrecker. “I have picked up the bounty hunters’ com channel. They seem concerned that they cannot raise a number of their companions.”

Wrecker looks up from fitting binders to the two mercenaries he has captured. “Hunter won’t waste any time,” he says gruffly.

“He may have deactivated his com, but I can still track his locator beacon,” says Tech. “Leave these two here. We must catch up to Hunter as soon as we can.”

*

Hunter crouches on the narrow gangway, watching the knot of mercenaries in the hangar below. Five left. Their conversation drifts to him but it is just noise. He can’t make his head understand the words.

It doesn’t matter what they are saying. Hunter will be among them soon, and their words will give way to screams and then they will be dead. He plans to make sure of that.

The migraine closes its vice-like grip on his consciousness and Hunter pulls his bandana off, trying to ease the pressure at his temples. A faint aurora halos his vision, sparkling in the periphery. His back teeth ache.

He creeps along the perforated metal walkway, feeling it sway a little from the suspension cables that keep it aloft. He holsters the pistol, curling the fingers of that hand around the rail instead. His right hand continues to clutch the vibroknife like it is an extension of himself.

Almost directly above them. From here he can drop onto the group, break his fall with one of their bodies, before wreaking his vengeance.

Hunter climbs silently to the railing. Leans over the edge, gravity pulling at his body, braced now on the outside of the walkway.

Ready to drop.

*

Echo spots the pair of bodies before Omega does. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder and ventures forwards cautiously, already knowing what he will find.

He is surprised to see the half-skull of Hunter’s helmet staring up at him from between the fallen mercenaries. He scoops it up and checks the wiring. The com is undamaged. It has been deliberately disabled.

Behind him he hears Omega.

“Tech, come in. Did you find Wrecker and Hunter?”

She has her bandaged hands pressed to her com, trying to raise her brothers. Echo hurries back to her, Hunter’s helmet in hand. Omega’s eyes go wide as she sees it.

“Is Hunter okay?” she asks in a fearful whisper, reaching out to brush the side of the helmet. The fresh bandages across her palms come away stained red.

“Don’t worry,” mutters Echo, “it’s not his blood.”

There is a moment of confusion before the meaning of his words dawns on Omega. She leans past him to peer down the corridor. Two bounty hunters. Not unconscious. Dead.

“Oh,” she says in a small voice. Then, looking up at him with a determined frown, “We need to find Hunter.”

*

Wrecker and Tech press tightly to the door-frame, one on either side of the corridor that has brought them to this hangar. Tech’s datapad says this is where Hunter should be, but all they can see are the clustered mercenaries.

Wrecker is the first one to look up. His hands move in a quick signal sequence, drawing Tech’s attention to their brother in his ambush position.

“Hunter,” breathes Tech. And as though it is a command, Hunter drops.

The chaos is immediate. Hunter is amongst the mercenaries, pistol forgotten, knife indiscriminately biting through cloth and armour into flesh. Panicked cries answer his sudden appearance. Blaster fire greets him.

Tech and Wrecker recognise Hunter’s grunt of pain like it is their own. They take a single moment to share a nod, and then they too join the fray.

Wrecker charges in, shoulder down, crashing into a mercenary and knocking him away from Hunter. Tech skirts the edge of the hanger, diving into a roll to evade a stray blaster bolt. He comes up with his pistol ready, gaze flitting over the knot of combatants before choosing his target. He knows this is the quickest way to end this.

Omega’s voice comes over the com but doesn’t answer. He needs all his considerable wits about him if he wants to take down his younger brother.

He steadies his aim.

He fires at Hunter.

*

Somewhere beyond the roaring in his ears Hunter is dimly aware that he is injured. There is a lingering trace of heat as the laser-burn crawls against his skin, softened from deadly to merely painful by the layer of his armour. It slows him, but he doesn’t let it stop him.

He ducks a wild haymaker meant to knock him to the ground and comes up inside the man’s guard. The mercenary yells as Hunter’s forehead connects with his nose, blood gouting from the broken cartilage, and Hunter winces at the shout pierces his already tender headache.

The migraine is stabbing behind his eyes now, his vision winking in and out in bright flashes. He has to finish this fight soon, or he won’t be able to.

The sudden jolt of a stun blast catches him in the back. He feels the sensation ripple forwards across his chest, electric, followed by numbness. The blast threatens to short out his enhanced senses.

With difficulty he fights the blackness that follows the stun bolt, dragging his awareness back to the fight. Two others still standing. To his surprise, he realises Wrecker is one of them.

Then Hunter feels an attacker leap onto his back. He howls in panic and anger; instinct directs him to dip his body, rolling the assailant over his shoulder. He grabs them and slams them into the floor, a blow designed to stun.

Recognises the helmet. The goggles.

“Tech?” he slurs in confusion.

And, “TECH!” The shout is echoed by Wrecker, scooping up their fallen brother.

The final mercenary takes advantage of the distraction. Two blaster bolts hit into Wrecker’s back, staggering him, and he clutches Tech to his chest protectively. Hunter watches as the bounty hunter retreats, fleeing for the bikes they came in on.

His prey's footsteps are still reverberating at the edge of Hunter’s enhanced hearing when others approach from behind him. He whirls, sees Echo and Omega.

“What happened?” demands Echo, crossing to Hunter. With one hand he pushes Omega behind him, making sure she doesn’t step round and see the Sergeant. Doesn’t see the feral gleam in his eyes, the sharp and dangerous expression of his open-mouthed panting.

“I’ll find him.” Hunter’s voice is a subhuman growl. “I’ll end it.”

*

Omega paces anxiously, glancing towards the farthest exit to the hanger. Tech is conscious but dazed, propped up against a storage crate as Echo checks his pupils. She worries for Hunter, but she has been told to stay put.

Wrecker finishes restraining the still-living mercenaries and rolls his shoulders, easing out the stiffness of the injuries he sustained. His own blaster is loose in his hands, still set to stun.

The bodies have been hidden to one side, smeared trails of red marking the route they had been pulled. So much for out of sight, out of mind. Omega curls up over her injured hands, rubbing at her wrists through the bandages. The rope burns itch under the healing bacta gel.

“Tech will be fine,” reports Echo, “but one of us should stay with him. Omega?”

“I’m going after Hunter,” she announces, before she can be asked to play medic. She turns and looks at Echo with her mouth set in an unhappy line.

Echo calmly meets her gaze. “Hunter won’t want you to see him like this,” he says softly.

“Hunter needs me.” She is the embodiment of stubbornness. “I know it.”

Wrecker’s big hand touches her shoulder gently.

“I’ll keep her safe, Echo,” he says, voice strained with an ache of worry. He pushes his helmet back down onto his head, the snarling skull hiding the concern in his eyes.

“Let’s go, kid.”

*

Hunter is exhausted, muscles trembling as he forces them to continue. He has to do this. The image of Omega’s injuries is burned behind his retinas, the scent of her fear cloying. He failed to protect her once. He won’t do so again.

One more mercenary, and the job was done. There would be no-one left to threaten her. And if this group didn’t return, perhaps whoever was hunting them would think twice before sending more agents to kidnap her.

Protect Omega. Blood pounds in his head. Every footstep is a hammer-fall on the anvil of his overwrought senses.

Protect Omega.

A blaster shot hits his right hand. The vibroknife is flung free of his grasp, spinning into the air and embedding in the wall above his head. Hunter startles, the pain in his hand almost enough to stop him from evading the follow-up shot aimed for his heart. He twists at the last moment, the blaster bolt grazing his chest-plate.

Then his feral instincts are back, taking over, shutting down the thoughts that are distracting him and driving him forwards into the fight.

Hunter lunges, closing the distance to his would-be ambusher in a burst of speed that belies his injured state. He doesn’t remember that he has a pistol. Instead he barrels into the man, tackling him to the floor. The two of them roll, fighting for dominance, and Hunter comes out on top. Slugs the man. Pain explodes in his knuckles but he doesn’t stop. Again. And again.

Under the onslaught the mercenary’s face is transforming to a swollen, bloody pulp. He writhes and bucks under Hunter, throwing the sergeant off and scrambling for escape. Hunter leaps after him and they are back to brawling, only it isn’t a brawl. The man is sobbing, arms over his head, trying to shield himself from Hunter’s incoming blows. Pleas dribble with bubbled blood from broken lips. The man weeps for mercy.

Hunter’s onslaught continues. One more mercenary, and the job is done.

Protect Omega. Protect her at all costs.

*

Omega and Wrecker round the corner and Wrecker pulls them up short. Hunter is locked in combat with the final mercenary, the sickening sound of fist hitting flesh and the crepitus of broken bone reaching them across the otherwise empty room.

Omega recoils, watching the scene with fascinated horror. The brutality makes her sick to her stomach, but she can’t look away.

Hunter’s hair is loose, missing the bandana that usually tames it, and hangs lank and sweaty about his face. Blood streaks his fists and spatters his armour. The air is punctuated by his soft grunts and laboured breath, and the moans and whimpers emanating from the figure that is huddled beneath his fury.

Wrecker lays his hand on Omega’s shoulder, trying to coax her away. “Omega,” he says, and his voice quavers. He crouches in front of her, interposing himself between her and the brutal scene, and pushes his helmet back on his head to lock gazes with her.

“What is he doing?” Omega whispers in horror, brown eyes wide as she searches Wrecker’s face for answers.

Wrecker merely shakes his head. “You should get outta here, kid. Head back to the Marauder, wait for the others.”

He stands and turns away from her, dropping the blaster and moving towards Hunter with his hands held up defensively. It is like he is approaching a wild animal, wary of attack.

“Hunter, stop it. Please, vod. He’s down, he surrendered. This isn’t right.”

If Hunter hears him he gives no sign. His punches keep flying, sluggish but solid. His victim lets out a single broken sob.

Omega’s com chirps.

“Omega, are you alright?” It is Tech, his voice weak-sounding as he recovers from concussion.

“We found Hunter,” she whispers, riveted on Wrecker’s careful advance.

Wrecker nears Hunter and his victim, one hand extended. “It’s me, Hunt,” he says, softening the brash edge of his voice. “Time to stop. Okay, vod?”

Hunter doesn’t hear him. Or ignores him. It is hard to tell.

“Is Wrecker able to handle the situation?” asks Tech.

Omega shakes her head. “No,” she says, voice trembling with determination. “But if Wrecker can’t make Hunter stop, I will.”

“Be careful, Omega,” Tech warns her, and she steels herself for what is to come.

She steps past Wrecker, ducks to evade his grasp as he tries to stop her. On shaky legs she closes the distance. Hunter, her Hunter, is a creature she does not recognise. Ruthless, bloodstained, no glimpse of gentleness or mercy.

Hunter leans back, winding up for a huge hit. Omega darts in front of him, catching hold of his fist, levelling her intense brown-eyed stare into the wildfire of his fury.

Omega positions herself directly in front of the exhausted sergeant. Hunter is on his knees, tattooed face glazed in sweat and blood that almost certainly does not belong to him. His shoulders heave as he gulps in great lungfuls of air.

“Don’t,” she says. A plea. A command. “Please don’t.”

For a moment Hunter’s eyes turn glassy and unfocused, pupils trembling with rapid dilations before he eventually blinks and manages to fix his gaze on the girl before him.

“Omega?” he croaks weakly, and staggers to his feet. He sways a little, then replants his feet and braces a hand against her shoulder to steady himself. “You’re meant to be with Tech.”

Unexpectedly, he retches. Omega takes a startled step back as Hunter heaves bile, his whole body trembling. When he is done he wipes his mouth slickly on the back of his hand, glancing round in confusion.

Wrecker steps forwards, caution still written in his posture. “Hey, Hunter,” he says softly, a greeting to his brother as he returns to his senses.

Hunter sags against Omega, his arms going round her in relief, and she can feel the uncontrolled quaking of his body as adrenaline fatigue truly sets in.

Quickly Wrecker steps in to support him, taking some of his weight from Omega. But Omega wraps her arms tightly round Hunter’s waist, pressing her face against his chest, ignoring the scent of blood and blaster-fire as she feels his trembling hand run through her hair.

“I forgive you, Hunter,” she whispers, fingers digging into the cracks of his armour as they both cling to each other with equal ferocity. “I forgive you.”

[jascurka]

if you ever feel like it I would LOVE to see a little tutorial from you about how you paint. i am obsessed with your paintings!!!! I love your use of color and how you do do lighting and like your strokes and just!!! Everything!!! it’s so beautiful and I keep just finding myself staring at it and trying to absorb it into my brain. sosososo good. argh. anyway. if you have any tips that would be great cause i would love to learn to paint but im intimidated and I don’t know where to start haha

I hope this helps a little!!

[DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER SITES]

I work in Clip Studio Paint but the layer settings are similar in various drawing programmes. I work on canvases around A4 format 300dpi.

I also recommend looking at the things that taught me a lot when I wanted to first get into digital painting:

This painting tutorial by @littleulvar Speedpaints (especially drawlloween) by Mirey's (also on deviantart)

[fluffypotatey]

Jake’s Cousin Tyler

finally gave into the tgm x twisters (2024) brain(rot)worms so here’s part 1 of this silly crossover

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Jake’s got an annoying cousin from Arkansas. Very annoying. And it has nothing to do with his silly youtube channel or his ragtag band of friends— those two joined the fray a lot later. No, his beef with his cousin began when the two boys were barely ten and only beginning to grasp their role in this reality. Most family members (Jake’s siblings) call this feud baseless at best and snicker whenever anyone asks how it all began. (Traitors, all of them.)

“So, what really makes you greater than Oklahoma?” 

That, there, was the fateful question. One asked by Jake's baby cousin, Tyler Owens. He, his mother, and aunt drove over all the way from Conway to Amarillo, so one can assume little Tyler saw a lot of the infamous state, as well as his mother sharing the notorious rivalry between Texas and Oklahoma (with Aunt Jo’s commentary). And, well, for anyone hearing about said rivalry from an outsider’s perspective like Tyler’s, it sure does look silly and ridiculous. They just happened to be two neighbor states with similar cultures and history. What was there to dislike about each other? Why all the pride?

And unfortunately, little Tyler decided to ask Jake these questions. 

And, maybe, take some joy in pissing his (slightly) older cousin off.

“I really don’t see the difference here.”

“And how could you! Everything you see is sur-surface level shit!”

There was a hissed Language! that went unheard between all the huffing and giggling. The only adult present was Jake’s brother Collin, who was finding all of this too hilarious to stop. (It was one of the biggest betrayals Jake had ever felt, and one he sulked about for weeks. After the thirty-something apology Jake caved and “allowed” Collin to read him those silly botany books.)

“Be-besides!” Jake stomped (not cutely, thank you). “Everything here is a lot bigger than it is in Oklahoma! Not to mention some of their land used to be ours and—”

“I thought Alaska was the biggest state.”

“I WASN’T TALKING ABOUT ALASKA!”

Suffice to say, this was the moment a line between the Seresins and Owens was drawn. Specifically between Jake and Tyler. Only. It was like in the blink of an eye the two little cousins became rivals. Enemies. Nemesis. 

Tyler was in the elementary choir? Well, Jake was in the state honor choir both his 4th and 5th grade years. Jake is said to be into paints? Oh lookie here! Tyler’s humble little pastel portrait won 1st prize and was showcased in the state fair! Tyler got all A’s in his science classes? Well, Jake got all A’s too, and all his science projects received top marks— oh wait, it seems Tyler won his school science fair. Twice! 

“I hate him.”

“Sweetheart, hate is a strong word.”

“Well, I feel strongly that I hate him, Mama! Why’s he gotta one-up me like that. He’s in a whole other state and yet—”

“Are you not doing the same thing?”

“No!” Jake lied. It wouldn’t do him any good to admit such a petty thing to his mother. “I’m minding my own business over here”—

“Uh huh.”

—“and it’s like a week after you share something with Aunt Trix and Jo, Tyler suddenly has something grander to share.”

“Oh?” The smile on her face made Jake feel caught. “You find them grander?”

“No! He just tells it like that because he’s Tyler and ‘oh so special’ because he won that stupid fucking science fair with that tornado.”

“Language. And we saw that project at Christmas. You even admitted to it being cool-looking.”

Jake grumbled and scuffed his feet. “It was Christmas.”

His mother scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Hm, yes, my mistake.”

link to the rest :3