#tac bubble

[s0ckh3adstudios]

Did a TADC fandub in the discord today and it. it was certainly an experience.

Another moment:

Pomni: (walking into a hallway) Hey, bully? Uh, I don't know where the bowling ball went.

(sees Ragatha glitching out)

Pomni: Oh, you are messed up, girl.

Ragatha: Pomni, you motherfucker

Ragatha: Pomni, do you want to talk about FNAF lore?

Pomni: I would literally rather do anything else.

Pomni: Your hair looks like red licorice.

Ragatha: That's good, because... all your theories would suck.

Pomni: Okay, excuse you! My FNAF theories are better than Matpat, okay?!

Ragatha: That's not really a high bar.

Pomni:

[the-cat-sorcerer]

By the way in case any of you somehow didn't know or if I have just forgotten to say, in my tadc au bubble is adopted, no mother just him and caine

[juztbeingsillyme]

bubble plays tic-tac-toe with fanny's forehead :3

[haeminsturn]

애기

pic creds: seraphic_8turn

[charliemwrites]

Still thinking about yesterday’s post and the dynamic that fucking snatched up my brain worms in a vice grip.

Reader who is perfectly capable, has a well earned spot on her team. Who has safety net after safety net provided by the mere presence of the rest of 141. So much so that she doesn’t even remember what fear is. Living in that invincible bubble of “we’re the best because we look out for each other and we’re not going to let anything happen to each other”

And the day that bubble pops and you don’t even realize it yet. A chance encounter with a KorTac operative and you stole his kill right out from under him. Made eye contact in a shower of blood, maybe even threw him a cheeky grin, high on stims as you were.

You didn’t realize that you’d stepped outside the metaphorical bounds of your little safe zone, stepped right into the territory of a feral, untamed creature with sharp teeth and the scent of you cloying in his nose. A scent that made his blood sing a siren song of want.

It’s not just happenstance that you cross paths again. (Not that you know that). Hes been seeking you out, taking mission after mission in a dogged attempt to see you again. To see if it was more than a fluke.

And his impatience, his persistence, is rewarded with the silhouette of you, breaking a man’s neck with your thighs. (If the man weren’t surely dead, he’d wish he was for the crime of having your attention, of being smothered by your thighs, of being that close to your cunt.)

In your precious stealth gear, sleek and deadly, eyes sharp on the path ahead, not the shadow gathering behind you. He just watches you for a long while, soaking you up like a dry earth in a squall, letting you take root deep, deep within his being, in the place a soul should be. (You’re better than.)

He’s got your callsign now, whispered by one of your team members as their path intersects with yours. Narrowed eyes at the (too) friendly shake given to the hard mask covering your mouth and nose, the way your cheeks rounded with a grin beneath.

What was an interest has evolved instantaneously into an obsession. (Or devotion. Or love. They’re all the same to him, all the same kind of possession.)

He loves watching you fight as much as he loves watching you kill. He’s hard in his tac pants experiencing it this close, getting to feel each unforgiving strike in all the openings he leaves for you - invitations you always accept because you’re his good girl and you can’t resist, of course not.

He purrs when he gets you pinned to the wall, your eyes big, sparking with that animal knowledge that you’ve been bested by a bigger predator. That you’ve been won, claimed. To the victors go the spoils, and the only thing he’s lost is his restraint.

You’re panting and squirming beneath him, and he’s hypnotized, unable to do more than press closer, press harder to get you wriggling against him. Moaning softly when your heel digs a bruise into his calf, how you go still with a sort of realization.

“Again,” he rasps into your ear, “go on, pretty little hunter. Keep going. You’re so strong.”

But before you can, something over his shoulder steals your attention. Your eyes flick away from, where they should be. And he realizes that he been so consumed by you, intoxicated, that he missed the intrusion on your moment together.

In the aftermath, his gear smells like you. The place where he slipped his thigh between yours and pressed he swears smells like your cunt, heady perfume. He’s breathes it in as he fucks his tight fist, high on the memory of your strength testing itself against his.

He imagines the scent of him all over you in return. Going back to those men with his claim in your armor, wishes you’d taken the blade with you, his blood smearing your gloves, your shirt, your pants, staining your skin.

He cums to that thought, thick spurts all over a grainy print out of you from the op he first met you on, milky drops on the ink that forms your mask.

Soon, it’ll be reality.

[flightlessangelwings]

FawKtover2024 Part 6- Frankie Morales

Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Kinks- sex pollen, overstimulation

Word count- 2.4k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), fwb to lovers, army days Frankie, reader is part of the team, sex pollen, unprotected sex, riding, overstim, no physical description of reader other than body parts, no use of y/n

Notes- Big thank you to @jolapeno for helping me come up with the scenario and for the good opening line here! I hope you like this bb!! This definitely got longer than I meant it to, but hey that's sex pollen for ya!! Enjoy!!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date!

~

“Dammit, Fish,” you cursed as you dragged your partner through the labyrinth of hallways, “I told you not to go sniffing things!”

“It’s not my fucking fault,” Frankie huffed as he felt like his body was on fire, “It fucking exploded in my face.”

“Still,” you hissed, “You need to be more fucking careful.” The worry was apparent in your tone though the chastising. You were truthfully more scared than you let on, but you had to hide it for now and get Frankie to safety.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission: get in, investigate the seemingly abandoned town, gather information, and get out. You and Frankie paired off as the team split up to cover the entire town, but as you investigated what looked like an old lab, things went wrong. He picked up a small case, a puff of powder exploded from it and covered his face. Thinking quickly, you grabbed him and ran, darting through the halls in search of somewhere safe.

“Shit,” Frankie gasped as he suddenly became acutely aware of how tightly you held him.

“Hang on,” your voice was strained as you found a small room with a working lock far enough away from the lab you investigated. Closing and locking yourselves in, you set Frankie down onto the ground and knelt in front of him, “Frankie,” you let the worry show more in your tone, “How are you feeling?”

Frankie looked up at you with glazed over eyes as his hair fell in his face. You looked like an angel as you scanned him over for injuries or any sign of distress. But, it wasn’t pain that he was feeling. “I…” he choked on his words as his pants suddenly felt too tight, “I don’t know,” Frankie sounded annoyed and unsure; he had no idea what was happening to him. 

Your brow furrowed as you stared into his eyes. Your heart pounded as feelings threatened to bubble to the surface that you tried so hard to keep down. “It’s gonna be ok, Frankie,” your eyes darted around as you tried to come up with a plan. Digging into your tac bag, you said, “I’m gonna call the guys on the radio. See if they can help figure this o…”

“No!” Frankie cut you off. When you looked at him with a wide eyed expression, he clarified, “No,” his voice sounded strained, as if he was fighting something, “Don’t… Not yet.”

“Ok,” your voice softened as you put the radio down, “What can I do to help you? What’s wrong?”

Frankie looked at you for a moment as his thoughts raced. He thought about the first time the two of you slept together, about how beautiful you looked. He thought about how you both agreed not to let the sex get in the way of the team or your friendship, that it was only physical. He thought about how much of a lie that was as he quickly felt more for you than you obviously did for him.

“Nothing,” he coughed out as he didn’t even believe himself. Heat pulsed though his body as his cock strained in his pants and the more time he spent in this tiny locked room with you, the harder it was going to be to keep his hands to himself. 

“Nothing?!” you snapped back, “Frankie I just dragged you halfway across this town because of something you inhaled! We’re locked in a storage room and you’re sweating more than a whore in church! You have to do better than ‘nothing!’”

He winced, but your outburst was justified. Letting out a heavy sigh, Frankie tried to calm his racing thoughts as he clenched his fists tightly at his side. His arms strained to keep himself still, when all he wanted was to pounce on you and fuck you until neither of you could walk anymore.

“I’m sorry,” your voice softened, “I’m just…” scared.

Frankie couldn’t hold back anymore. The sound of your voice was overwhelming for him, and he launched himself at you, crashing your lips together in a heated kiss. Frankie swallowed the surprised moan you let out as his hands roamed all over your body. His hips bucked against you as he finally started to feel a small sense of relief just from kissing you.

“Frankie?!”

He froze. Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to find that he had already stripped you of your tactical vest, belt and your shirt was unbuttoned to reveal your bra  underneath. When did he do that? Whispering your name, Frankie’s gaze dropped to the ground, “Shit,” he murmured, “I’m sorry,” he sighed heavily, “It’s whatever was in that fucking powder. It’s making me…” Frankie paused as he looked up at you with those big brown eyes, “Want to fuck you so fucking bad.”

“Frankie…” you breathed as you looked at him with a pleading expression. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d slept together, but yet this was still different. Your mouth dropped open as your eyes trailed down his body before you could stop yourself and you noticed the large bulge in his pants.

That explained a lot.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he tried to scramble away from you, “Shit. Shit,” he covered his mouth, “I can’t fucking hurt you. I won’t fucking hurt you.”

Feeling a flutter in your chest, you scooted yourself toward him and cupped his face, “Look at me, Frankie,” the resolve in your voice was clear, “I’m going to help you through this,” you paused as he opened his mouth to protest, “And you won’t hurt me. I know you won’t.”

“Baby…” 

You both launched yourselves at each other at the same time, wrapping your arms around the other. Frankie pulled you close as he crashed his lips against yours once more while you climbed onto his lap. You grabbed onto his tac vest as you writhed in his lap, grinding yourself against his hard cock over his pants.

“Fuck…” he breathed as he covered you in kisses. His hands worked to strip you of the rest of your clothes, fumbling with shaky fingers as whatever drug he inhaled pulsed through his veins.

Heavy breaths filled the small room as you adjusted in Frankie’s lap after he shimmied your pants off of you. With trembling hands of your own, you unfastened his pants and freed his cock, which sprung free and stood at full attention. You gasped when you noticed how swollen and red it was, and you were sure it was from the drug.

Straining to hold himself back, Frankie whispered, “Are you sure I won’t hurt you, baby?”

You met his eyes as your heart stopped for a second at the expression he had, “I’m sure,” you kissed him tenderly, “Let me help you, baby.”

He groaned as he helped you line yourself up with his aching cock. Perhaps if he had been more in his right mind, he would have done more for you before he fucked you, but he was too far gone. The need was too great, and it overwhelmed any other thought he would have had.

Slowly, you sunk down on his cock, whining and gasping at the stretch as you did so. Frankie let out a primal growl as he felt your heat around him. You clung to his tac vest as you lowered yourself onto his lap, tremors running up your spine with every inch that pushed into you.

Unable to stop himself, Frankie grabbed your hips and thrust you down the rest of the way, making you both yelp.

“Shit!!” Frankie gasped, “I’m sorry…”

“It’s ok,” you panted, “I’m ok.”

“Fuck…” he groaned as he rocked his hips against your body, rutting into you clumsily. Frankie grabbed your ass and kneaded the soft flesh as he stumblingly thrust up into you.

Your mouth dropped open to let the moans flow as he thrust into you from below. You held into his vest as your breasts bounced from the motion. You threw your head back and immediately he nibbled on the skin of your chest.

“Fuck, baby I’m gonna cum…” Frankie groaned right before he exploded into you. He held you even more tightly as he spilled himself into you while you whimpered in his lap.

But it wasn’t enough.

His cock was still rock hard, and Frankie growled in frustration as he lunged forward and threw you onto your back on the floor with him overtop of you. All the while, his cock never left you. Gasping at the sudden change in position, you let out a cry of surprise as you found yourself on your back.

“Frankie…” you moaned as he wasted no time pounding into you.

“Baby,” he groaned as he lost himself in your body. He grunted at how good you felt as his hips slapped against yours in a fast pace. “Fuck,” Frankie growled as his mind spun.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him close as he pounded into you. He was rougher than he had been in the past, but you welcomed it. Even through the drug, you felt the care Frankie always had, and it brought tears to your eyes as he hit that sweet spot inside you over and over again.

“Frankie… Fuck… I’m…”

He groaned as he thrust into you as deep as he could as his second orgasm hit him without warning. The feeling of your inner muscles squeezing him sent him over the edge, and Frankie grinded his hips against yours for some friction against your clit. You let out a scream of pleasure as your own climax hit right after his, making you tremble underneath him.

With a gasp, Frankie collapsed on top of you, making you huff in surprise. Together, the two of you breathed heavily in a sweaty mess on the floor until Frankie realized he was still hard.

“Shit,” he groaned in frustration, “Fuck!” his fist landed on the floor next to you.

“Keep going,” you whispered in his ear, feeling his rock hard cock still inside you.

“But…” his head shot up to look into your eyes.

“It’s ok,” you opened your eyes, blinking tears away as you cupped his face, “I’m ok,” when he opened his mouth, you interrupted, “I promise.”

Frankie breathed your name as he dipped his head and kissed you sweetly, “Fucking hit me on the head if you need to. Alright?” The message was clear: do not let me hurt you no matter what. Frankie knew you could take care of yourself, but he was always determined to protect you regardless. Even if in this instance meant protecting you from himself.

If it were any other time, you would make a smart comment about how much pleasure you would have gotten from that, but this was not the time. Instead, you nodded, “I trust you, Frankie.”

Again, your words caused a switch to flip in his head, and Frankie pounded into you at a fast and rough pace once more. He murmured your name over and over again as his hips took on a life of their own, unable to stop himself. But the way you moaned and cried out only fueled him more and he grunted as he thrust into your wet pussy. He came without fanfare, yet he kept going. Thrusting into you with fervor, Frankie groaned as he attached his mouth to your shoulder. 

Both of you were overwhelmed by the emotions that ran high between you. Tears filled your eyes once more, and you felt drops from Frankie as well. He mumbled indistinctly in your ear as he continued to pound into you.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good, baby,” he managed to get out clearly.

“Frankie…” you whined as you felt another orgasm start to creep up on you, “Fuck…”

“One more, baby,” he murmured, “I think one more will do it.”

“Cum, Frankie,” you moaned, “It’s ok… Cum in me again.”

He growled your name as another climax hit him like a train. Relief finally felt within his grasp as he rode out his last orgasm on your body. As his mind started to clear, Frankie snaked his hand between your bodies and rubbed at your clit, determined to have you cum once more as well. And he got his wish. The moment his fingers made contact with your clit, you came undone and you came with a loud scream.

Finally collapsing down in exhaustion, Frankie felt like the drug had worked its way through his system. He took a deep breath before he pushed himself up to check on you, “You ok, baby?” he asked in a soft tone.

You kept your eyes closed as you also caught your breath. Feeling his large hand on your face, you blinked your eyes open and your heart fluttered in your chest at the way he looked at you, “A little sore,” you admitted, “But I’m ok.”

“Let me,” he groaned as he slowly and carefully pulled out of you. Frankie gave you an apologetic look when you hissed in pain and he never let go of you as he gathered you in his arms while he laid on the floor next to you. “Thank you,” he broke the silence, “For… this…”

You settled yourself in his arms as you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “I hope you learned your lesson, Fish,” you snarked back to hide the emotions that threatened to come to the surface again.

Instead of matching your snark like he usually did, Frankie let out a sigh. You were right of course, but that didn’t matter anyway. He squeezed you tighter as the confession spilled out before he could stop himself, “I love you.”

You gasped as you froze in place. Pushing yourself up, you looked into his eyes and saw no hint of uncertainty there. Fighting back tears, you leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, “I love you too,” you whispered against his lips.

Frankie smiled into the kiss and pulled you close once more, holding you tightly. “And I did learn my lesson,” he smirked in between kisses, feeling you smile back at that. The two of you settled down again, taking a moment to gather your strength when you let out a gasp. Frankie jumped into high alert as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot about the rest of the guys…”

[blasvemous]

Oh and From Persephone by Kiki Rockwell

I’m trying to get back into writing longer pieces again, and like nothing I have is holding my attention.

So I wanna try something.

Recommend me songs and I’ll try to write something based on either lyrics or vibes.

Please?

Pretty please with a cherry on top?

[kivino]

EVERY TIME, I FALL FOR YOU || KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK X GN!READER

Word count - ~1,1k

Tags/Warnings - Gn!Reader, suggestive, fluff, Kyle is pining for you HARD, idiots in love :)))

Summary - Kyle fell for you hard, but he doesn’t know if it’s mutual.

A/n - just wanted to write something cute as a formal apology to gaz nation for my last fic, there can be no happy ending for that one, but here’s a little treat! i love you, i promise!!! c:

ao3 link for this fic

Kyle knew it from the moment he saw you - you were trouble. And he liked that, really. Sometimes too much, even, judging by how hard his heart fluttered in his chest when he felt your eyes catching his and giving him a passing, mischievous wink, reserved only for the two of you. Kyle is stunned stupid each time you pull something like this, cheeks burning, pupils dilating, and hands digging into the muscle of his thigh inside of the pocket of his jeans. He is fighting demons so he doesn’t grab you right then and there and pull into a warm, tight embrace just to hide his expression in your shoulder.

He wished he was as nonchalant as Ghost is, or as experienced as Price, or as approachable as Soap, but he was just…himself. With all his unresolved feelings and unreciprocated affection bubbling inside of him, only for this piping hot mixture to pour over the edge more often than not.

Kyle didn’t know how you still hadn’t noticed just how much he was falling for you, each second more and more. It felt more like tumbling down flights upon flights of concrete stairs, than gradually descending the pipeline of pure adoration towards you. God, you were so stupid. Both of you were, actually. But at least Kyle was self-aware about it.

He doesn't want to talk about it. Not about the way you make his day better by just existing in the same space as him. Not about the way you’re so stupidly fucking beautiful. Not about your shitty movie taste. And definitely not about the way he wants to pull you into a passionate kiss each time you start ranting about whatever thing you like at the moment.

Kyle didn’t catch the moment when the childish, a bit boyish, and bashful “I like you”s his thoughts would regurgitate when he saw you turned into “I love you”s. And if you were not there to see it, his head would drop right into his hands each time. He wasn’t sure if it was frustration or knowledge that it was just fucking stupid.

He tried his best to repress those things he felt for you. For the sake of you and him both. Oh, how miserably Kyle failed to keep his promises to stop pining for you.

Kyle loved you at your best and your worst, it didn’t matter to him, really. As painful as it was for him to feel you crying into his shoulder at two in the morning, trembling and clinging onto him, swiping hot tears and snot all over his jumper, it was still you. And how can he not love you like this as well? Just like he loves you when he sees your eyes crinkle as you smile at him, sunshine playing in your irises through the dark lenses of your tac eyewear.

When your head inevitably falls on Kyle’s shoulder while you’re coming back from a tiring mission he can feel your soft breathing on his neck. His fingers immediately reach towards your hair, swiping it off your forehead and running his fingers over the shorter parts. If you had been in the field for several days and hadn't had the chance to take a proper shower and wash your hair, he would mutter some snide remarks about Price letting you run wild through rows of chicken coups, barnes and haylofts, while his fingers picked out some debris from your hair. Kyle relishes in your warmth that he can feel even through several layers of clothes separating you. That’s one of the rare times he can enjoy your physical affection without having to explain himself. He’d trade his soul to stay like this with you forever. Kyle can feel his heart jumping out of his chest, head growing woozy with exhaustion and your overwhelming presence. The best type of daze.

This kind of relationship between the two of you was certainly…something. Kyle enjoyed it though. To him it was more than friendship. But god forbid he ever told you that.

Or so he thought.

Kyle decided to invite you to his place for your leave. He was living alone, in a good enough apartment, but it always felt a bit too empty and hollow. Like nobody lived there and no one was there to stay. Lack of any personal items or wall decorations, it only now started to sink in how unappealing it looked, after he briefly saw your place. It gave an impression of being looked after, well-loved even, with all the…stuff you had. When did you have the time to decorate your apartment anyway?..

It didn’t matter though, Kyle was just excited to spend time with you, ignoring the insistent jumps of his heart while he was waiting for you to finally arrive. Obviously you have visited him before, but not for such long periods of time, so naturally, he was nervous. But you were only friends, so why was he even getting so worked up over, essentially, nothing? He knew why. But thinking about it would only make all of it worse, so he preferred to pretend like those feelings were never there.

Kyle contained himself when he saw your beaming smile while he greeted you near the door. He kept it to himself when he observed you throwing together a quick snack for him, motions so fluid and relaxed. And god knows he tried keeping it together when he saw you walk out from the shower, hands ruffling some stray drops of water out of your hair. Of course he looks at you longer than usual. But he hopes you don’t notice.

He doesn’t initiate any physical affection in fear that this particular time it’ll tip him off. Kyle knows he won’t be able to stop himself if it ever comes to it. He doesn’t trust himself to. So when your hand gently cradles his cheek, fingers brushing over slight stubble and lips finally connecting with his, Kyle doesn’t tell you to stop. He only lets out a choked breath, along with a soft “please”.

He doesn’t tell you to stop when your fingers lace with his own. He stays silent and his eyes flutter closed when your lips trail over his jaw, peppering soft kisses over his heated skin. Instead of begging you to stop he only pleads for more, words stinging his throat.

And when Kyle comes to his senses it’s already too late, you’re curled into him on the bed, and exhaustion, as sweet as honey, spreads through his body in pleasant waves. He can feel lovebites stinging the skin of his neck and he shudders when you swipe your hand over fresh scratches on his back.

It’s already too late. But he just might be fine with it. He’s willing to give it a try. Maybe you’ll fall for him as hard as he did for you.

check out my masterlist or send me a request/comment!

[ask-ii-bfdi-shipkiddos]

The II/BFDI ship kids ask blog!!!! :D

This is just for fun but will contain angst and maybe heavy topics

You can ask these characters for II (from oldest to youngest)

There are a LOT [ages]

The crossed out ones are still canon to the universe, just not relevant

Flashlight (she/her) - lightbrush

Tarot (she/they) - payjay

BJ (they/them) - poly slams

Candy (he/him) - marshplebow

Glowstick (he/they) - fantube

Chili (she/her) - tacomic

Micro (she/her) - tacomic

Cheesecake Cup (he/him) -comedy gold

Origami Paper (he/him) - payjay

Choco (he/him) - mephone

Oatmeal (she/her) - mephone

Nex (any) - cabby

Potpourri (she/her) - silvercandle

Fern (he/him) - floory

Key (she/her) - lightbrush

Paprika (she/her) - saltpep

And these for BFDI

Toothpick (she/her) - matchil

Wrap (they/them) - basketbot

Tac (he/him) - coinpin

Donut Hole (he/she) - donut sib

Petal (he/him) - fireafy

Petaly (he/they) - fireafy

Birdie (she/her) - tengolf

Toy Block (he/him) - penraser x blocky

Asey (he/him) - penraser x blocky

Ben (she/her) - penraser x blocky

Void (she/they/it) - astrobiology

Rose Quartz (she/her) - flowby

Lily (she/her) - evil leafy

Cinna (she/her) - tacopop

Lake Drop (he/him) - teardrop

Lampy (she/her) - pillowfanning

Ice Tray (he/him) - icelety

Bud (he/him) - flowby

Bubble Blower (she/her) - bubble x bottle

Dynamite (he/him) - bomby x nickel

Throw Pillow (she/her) - pillowfanning

El (they/them) - pillowfanning

Mini (he/him) - matchil

Gunpowder (he/him) - bomby x nickel

You can also ask their parents/adults things too

Let's keep the asks appropriate because the kids are all under 18

These are 2 different universes. NO crossovers! (It just makes things confusing cuz I have too many characters)

CANON DIVERGENT specifically for ii (from ep 15)

Added ii lore

Asks are open (only tacomic/soapmic rn)

For the askers

You guys can have that magic anon thing here

Roleplaying as their parents/adults is ok too

I will draw human au but only on request. Default is object

Be nice and be patient plz I promise I will get to everything

Fanart is always welcome!

Now for me, the creator!

I go by she/her, you can call me Dice

Check out my main blog @dicediceking

@dicedice69 , @babygirls-alt-acc , and @ask-lab-rats are also me. I don't post on the 1st one anymore. The second is my reblog acc. And the last is my other ask blog

I apologize if some are out of character. I'm only human. There will also be a lot of headcanons in this

You can ask me any question you want too (but nothing inappropriate, I'm a minor)

CreatorNotes are when I'm ooc

[abbu0414]

Equal Obsession (Simon Riley x Reader)

This is a little out of my writing comfort zone so please give me feedback if there's anything I can do better!

Word Count: 855

♪ Song to Listen To: Obsession by Mellina Tey

You had met at a bar when he was home from his most recent mission. Most people would be scared by the scars littering his face, or the way he stood around his friends with a scary demeanor. But for some reason, he drew you in. Your friends advised against going to him to talk and to figure out who he was. But you couldn’t help yourself, how could you not go over there? Sure he was around other tall scary looking men, except the one with the mohawk, he seemed friendly enough considering he had started a conversation with one of your friends earlier and exchanged numbers with them.

He was hunched over the bar, with a whiskey in hand, already asking for another from the bartender. You muster up the courage to walk over there and ask for a Jim Beam and Coke from the bartender. Ghost peaks over at you from the corner of his eye, raising a brow. 

“Didn’t take you as a whiskey drinker, love.”

You slowly turn your head, looking up at this 6’1 man with the most beautiful brown eyes and dirty blonde hair you’ve ever seen. 

“A lot of people say that, what about me makes you say that?” You ask, chuckling lightly. He looks at you up and down. You couldn’t tell if he was checking you out, or figuring out what to say. He takes a sip of his drink and sets it on the bartop. 

“You look young.” He responds blankly. It was true you did look young in his eyes. It didn’t matter that you were 21 and he was just brushing 28.  Maybe it was because you didn’t see the horrors of war or people dying everyday. You looked bright. Fresh. Like you didn’t know what the true, cruel ways of the world were. And maybe that’s why he was so drawn to you. You were like an angel sent down by the Gods themselves. But why would they do that to him? He was a bad man that did bad things everytime he put on his tac-vest and loaded his mag. Why would they tempt him like that? It was scary how bad he wanted you and he knew it. He would be so good to you, he would devote his entire being to you…and make sure another man’s name would never leave those pretty lips of yours. He was obsessed. He clocked you as soon as you walked through the bar doors with your bright, bubbly friends. Your words ripped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“I think my dear old Dad would be proud of my drink choice. And I don’t think 21 is that young, maybe a little young to have taste for a Beam and Coke, but not that young.” You tested the waters to see if he would bite, and sure enough, he did. God, you were so tempting to his desires. He would ruin you, that’s for sure. But maybe that’s what you wanted. You had been in and out of relationships, but they were all in the boy mindset, nothing serious came out of any of those relationships other than crappy dates and making out. 

You wanted a man this time, someone who knew what they were doing. This is why you also clocked him as soon as you came in. There was something about him that was so dark, and you liked it. His eyes spoke to you, but they were saying things like stay away. Did you ever listen? No, and you can thank your Dad for that. Your father had been in the Navy for over 20 years and you had learned the depths of what he did and what military people are capable of. You just hid it better than Ghost did. It was obvious he was active duty, the engraved lines in his face were like reading an open book.

After a slight chuckle Ghost replies, “I’d ruin you, you know that right?” It’s like he could read your mind. He puts his finger under your chin and lifts it to look at him. His cologne and whiskey breath was enough to sedate you for life, God it was so addicting. You could feel your knees begin to buckle, but you stood your ground. You let out a shaky breath and swallow looking at his lips and then into his eyes and he notices. The room was getting hotter, and noisier, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you wanted was his hands on your face again. Your skin was cold without his touch and you didn’t like it. 

“Have you ever considered that maybe that’s what I want?” You whisper. He grins and lets your face go. 

“Is that so?” 

“Eyes don’t lie.” You say in a soft but knowing tone.

Trying to keep himself from taking you on the bartop right there, he speaks with absolute certainty. “You won't even remember your own name when I’m done with you.” 

“Is that a challenge?” You respond with a tilt of your head and upturn of your lips.

Part 2?

[the-cat-sorcerer]

Awww, look, they're playing dress up!

[heysawbones]

Earlier today, I asked Google about removing the ink from a gel pen cartridge. Google thought I meant, “how do you revive a dead gel pen?” No. See. Sometimes, when you’re using gel pens in ways they were never meant to be used, you find the ballpoint inadequate. In my case, it was too big to get into tight spots on the doll shoe I was detailing. Gel ink is water soluble. You should be able to paint with it. Right?

But how do you get it out? Is the coverage okay? Folks,

the coverage is excellent.

You can learn how to free the gel ink from its tiny prison, plus the pros and cons below the cut.

Here’s the tools I used, except the hobby/model drill. That turned out to be unnecessary. A syringe, some kind of needle OR stiff catheter of similar dimensions, and scissors will do the trick.

I cut the pen above the stopper and below the ink/air bubble. If a gel pen is old enough or you have enough patience, sometimes you can wiggle the stopper out of the bottom of a gel pen instead. If that’s an option, I’d recommend it for reasons I’ll touch on later.

The tip of a Sakura Gellyroll has two notches in the plastic where the ballpoint head is seated in the grip. I used the eye end of a fat yarn needle to wedge into that notch and loosen the tip and cartridge until I could remove them from the grip. I think you could get away without removing the tip and cartridge, but I found it easier/neater to do it this way.

This shows where I cut into the cartridge: between the end of the air bubble, and the end of the ink. The more ink your pen has, the smaller - and possibly harder to identify - this area is.

Unfortunately, my syringe was not made to be used with a needle. To compensate, I used sticky-tac to cover any air gaps - vacuum is essential to a syringe. I used artist’s tape on top of that to stabilize the connection. You probably don’t need to do this, but if you do, there you go. I bet heavily chewed bubblegum would work, too. Or clay. Or lots of things.

I really didn’t think this would work, due to bad luck with past attempts. It does work.

Here, I’m using a kolinsky sable to pick up the ink but any pointed brush meant for acrylic, watercolor, or ink should do the trick.

THE OPACITY. THE PIGMENT LOAD. THE ABILITY TO DETAIL TINY AREAS

—

PROS.

-Incredibly opaque for something water-soluble and relatively low viscosity

-high pigment load

-very smooth finish

-accessible

CONS.

-If you bought gel pens with the intent of breaking them open for the beautiful ink inside, it would be expensive - especially for decent ink like Gellyroll

-Coverage is not as even with brush as it is with rollerball. This is easy to get around, but noticeable. Build up the coat until it’s opaque and smooth. Do not allow it to dry between coats. Once you’re done, put the item away to dry for as long as you can stand. DO NOT APPLY TOP COAT BY BRUSH

-Slow-drying on many surfaces if applied heavily enough for a smooth finish, but concerningly fast-drying in the syringe. It’s also unclear if recapping the original pen and sealing the cut end will preserve the ink, or if gel ink harvesting is a one-and-done where you will need to take all you can at one time, then store it in an airtight container. I’ve stuffed the cut end of my cartridge with sticky tac and put the cartridge back in the grip/recapped the pen, but it remains to be seen if this is sufficient for storage.

-Your gel pen will never be the same again: even if the ink can be preserved in the original cartridge, breaking the vacuum causes the ink to blob out of the roller ball. There’s a real possibility that this will just leak everywhere out both ends, which is why I recommend preserving the stopper at the bottom of the grip if plausible.

CONS 2,

continued (of detailing models, etc. with gel ink generally, not specifically the brush application thereof)

- Gel ink requires a porous surface. Do not expect to put pen to plastic without primer or Mr. Super Clear. The ink will consolidate centrally (proximal to heaviest application), gapping away from edges.

-Slow-drying: this takes forever, and it is easy to ruin a finish in the meantime.

—Durability: essentially none. Wait at least a few hours after you think the gel is dry, then apply a clear coat. SPRAY ONLY. Do NOT go back over it with a wet brush, as you risk reactivating the ink and ruining all your hard work. Spray works because it is ruining the finish evenly, and therefore, not at all. Wait and then apply the top coat again. These top coats will be your durability.

[ashs-nerd-den]

Studyblr prompt Week 1 - My Study space

I usually study either my desk or by bed, but nobody is seeing my bed on here, and I did up my desk at the start of the summer to make it ADHD friendly, which I have been dying to show off, so this is the perfect opportunity to do so.

The peg board is not only aesthetically pleasing, it is an ADHD saviour. The clear storage means that I can actually see stuff so that way I dont forget that they exist. The pretty notebooks add the aesthetic which draws me in to study and makes it seem more appealing to my brain.

The temporary dumping box is where I throw things when I don't have the energy to put them away because it prevents mess and when I do have the energy, I don't have to pick everything up around the room because they're all in 1 spot.

A lot of people put up pictures of their goals, like their dream university, or the exam results that they want. I put up pictures of my grandparents (that's what's behind the hearts). If I turn out even 1% as amazing as any of them, I will die happy, because they are the most incredible people ever. I'm considering shuffling things around a bit so I can put up a picture of one of my aunties because she is beyond amazing and she is currently doing her masters in psychology (the field I want to go into) while raising her kids and being a carer. I don't use Pinterest for inspiration, my family is more than inspirational enough for me. I could go on for hours about how extraordinary each of them are, but I'll save yous the time.

The water bottle hole was probably for a pen holder, but neither of my pen mugs fit and it gives me a designated place to put my drink so that I don't forget about it, which is good because last time I checked humans need water and not just lucozade and coffee.

There are even more highlighters in the drawer because they are one of my special interests and I love them (I have more in my school pencil case and a full pencil case of highlighters)

Everything is visible with no covering or lids because I will forget that they exist. Adhd object impermance is a BIG thing in my house, and when I say big, I mean it.

The tumb tacs and paper clips are once again part of a stationary special interest that I have had since I was around 8

The different shaped sticky strips and sticky speech bubbles are for annotating things in a way that gets my brain to actually want to look at it. You might be recognising a recurring theme here. If it isn't right infront of me and looks fun, my brain doesn't cooperate.

The day planner is because I want to try to work out a way to do bullet journaling that works for ADHD. Like the way that it was originally created for. But all of the resources are aimed at neurotypicals and nobody can find resources on how to us it for ADHD anymore, even though that was the whole purpose of them (this is not hate towards any neurotypicals that use them, this is hatred of the fact that so many of our resources get shared to neurotypicals and then we lose access to them)

This was longer and more rambly than intended, but I'm both mentally and physically exhausted so I'll probably edit this tomorrow because once it goes into the drafts, it never comes out.

[gazs-blue-hat]

Whumptober Day 5: “It’s Broken.” (John Price X Reader)

Summary: Youur boyfriend John Price is not one for giving up, even when things seem the most dire.

Word Count: 1,225

TW: Combat. Burried under rubble, near-death experience, Broken Limb(s),Canon Typical Language. (LMK if I missed any)

It wasn't unusual for you and John Price to be stuck in a cramped space together. It was quite common! You two had shared your fair amount of scrappy safe houses and cars on long stakeout missions. But this cramped space...this one took the cake.

You and John had been pinned down literally and figuratively. At first, it had just been a bunch of enemy soldiers shooting at your team, but as things got more and more intense, it was clear that an airstrike needed to be called in.

Now you and John were pinned down by a building that wasn't supposed to be in the range of the airstrike. Clearly...someone had messed up. You could see John, he was lying across from you, your faces only a foot apart. His eyes were open but not focusing.

"Captain..Captain, can you hear me?" You couldn't hear your voice from the ringing in your ear. When you did speak, there was a splitting pain making itself clear at your side. You looked down as far as you could and you almost threw up at the sight.

Your arm was bent at a horrific angle. The elbow was facing the wrong way and your wrist hung a bit to the side. It didn't look like any of the bones had broken the skin so that was a positive. When you tried to wiggle your fingers though...there was no movement. Nerve damage then.

Across from you, John groaned softly and blinked his eyes, focusing them on you.

"You broken?" He asked softly, coughing up some dust. You huffed an almost silent laugh, the rubble pressing on your tac vest making it hard to inhale all the way.

"Yeah, my arm is fucked. Can't wiggle my fingers in the slightest. I think it's broken at the elbow and the wrist, but I can't be sure." You would have lifted your arm to show him but there was another piece of rubble pinning your shoulder down.

"Well, that can't feel good," John grumbled as he tried to move some of the rubble. There was a loud groaning above you as a rain of concrete dust fell on the two of you. He was able to shimmy his hand to his tac vest and crack one of the glow sticks there. A dull green light filled the small space and he was able to see your dusty face.

"That's the funny bit...I can't feel it at all." Your words were sounding a bit more clear now that your ears were having a chance to recover from the horribly loud sound of the explosion earlier.

"I wouldn't call that funny," John grumbled and groaned as he shifted as best he could. As he moved, rubble groaned and shifted above him.

"Stop. Stop moving John. The rubble will all come down if you keep wiggling like that." Your voice was growing hoarse as you struggled to take in more air. You felt the tension of the ceramic plates in your vest snap as a loud crack split the air.

A sharp pain shot through your chest as the ceramic plates gave way to the pressure of the rubble on top of you. You would have screamed if you could, but all the air had been smushed out of you.

"Hey..hey love, love. Talk to me. Talk to me, darling." John reached out to you, gripping your hand in his tightly. His warm hand was grounding and you took a sharp breath.

"Fuck me...it hurts." Your words were a wheeze and a bubble of blood started to crawl up your throat. You locked eyes with your captain.

"Don't. Don't you even start lookin' at me like that. You're gonna be fine. You're gonna make it out of this alright." His words were starting to blur together, not making any sense.

"Have you..have you tried your..your radio?" You cough, sending a spatter of blood onto the ground next to your face. John nodded his head.

"It's well and truly broken love. How...". He trails off and looks at your radio, still clipped to your throat. It wasn't broken.

"Darling, I need you to reach your mic with your hand. Can you do that for me? Just reach up and tap the button." His hand gripped yours tightly, trying to give you some strength.

"Captain...I can't. I can't feel my hand. I can't." You were tearing up and a few salty drops slipped down your face. John nodded and looked into your eyes.

"You can. You can do it. Do it for me, darling. Do it for me." He was begging now, his own eyes welling with tears at your devastated expression. You took as deep of a breath as you could and you shifted your arm.

The pain was incredible. It radiated from your shoulder down to your elbow. That is where the sensation stopped. You couldn't feel your fingers or your wrist. You lifted your hand, the bones grating aggressively and audibly in the quiet of the small space you were cramped in. Your arm lifted, slowly, until your hand grazed your neck and fell.

"I can't. I..I can't. John, I can't." Your words came in a breathless whisper as your bloodied fingers remained still against your neck. John looked towards where your hand was placed. Directly on the transmitter button

"Don't move love. Keep your hand just there. You're doin' so well. So proud of you. Just keep your hand there and everything will be alright." John continued to speak to you, but you couldn't quite hear right anymore. You could hear the sound of rubble shifting above you two. You could hear your heart thumping in your ears. You felt...cold all of a sudden. The pain wasn't there anymore.

John watched with horror as your eyes began to flutter closed. He squeezed your hand tightly, feeling the grip you had on his hand loosen.

"No. Keep those pretty eyes on me, love. They're on their way. The boys are on the way..." He was able to tell the boys through your mic where you two had gone down. He could hear the sound of shouting above them and the heavy thumps of rubble being shifted.

"Darling, they're right above us. You did so well. I'm so proud of you love. So proud. Just stay awake for a little bit longer."

Your eyes focused and fell on him. He was smiling at you, his face covered with dust and sweat. You didn't know why, but he had never seemed more attractive than in this moment.

"When we get out of here...I'm gonna put a ring on your finger. I'm gonna marry you and make you mine forever." He continued to whisper softly to you, trying to keep you awake. Light erupted from above as the faces of Johnny, Kyle, and Simon looked down at you.

"We got them! Get medical over here!" Kyle shouted as he lifted his hand in the air.

"Jesus...their arm is all...fucked up." Johnny hissed while turning away from the broken limb.

"That's clear," Simon said bluntly. while rolling his eyes.

The other thing that was clear, was the satisfied smile on your face. Your boys had come, and soon you were gonna marry the love of your life.

Perhaps getting blown up and buried wasn't so bad after all.

[tired-and-ticklish]

Charlie Morningstar TK Headcanons

Ler

Loves tickling as a bonding exercise and is very gentle most of the time

Sometimes, however, she can become the Hotel's most feared tickle monster (After Alastor, of course)

Found out Vaggie was ticklish by accident. During one time where Vaggie was tickling her, Charlie shot her hand out and squeezed the ex-angel's side, causing her to squeal.

She loves drawing, and she love drawing on people even more

She draws on people's stomachs a lot, and draws things she thinks match them (Example: Card suits on Husk, hearts and cute little pig faces on Angel, bows or Xs and Os (hugs and kisses) on Vaggie, etc)

A big tickle game person (having someone try to hold still, or playing tic-tac-toe on someone's stomach)

When in demon form, she uses her tail to tickle people

Will do a 'bubble hug' to people. Basically, hugging them/lifting them so her face is near their stomach, and then raspberrying them to cheer the person up.

"Come on, it's called the 'Happy Hotel' for a reason!"

Lee

Canonically ticklish, and not at all shy about it.

Lucifer and Lilith would often tickle her to cheer her up

Worst spots: Hooves, Tail, Hips, Ears, and Neck

Vaggie can't resist giving her so many tickly neck kisses

If you really get her laughing, Charlie will eventually bleat like a goat, much to her own embarrassment

Mainly tickled by Vaggie, Lucifer (when they make up), and Alastor.

She's all for any kinds of tickling: Soft, rough, games, doesn't matter, she'll love it.

Most of the time she asks when she's in a lee mood, but sometimes she likes to play around and annoy people into tickling her.

Absolutely screams when Vaggie tickles her with her wings (Once she gets those back)

Can be a brat sometimes

"Hehehe... is that... all you got?"

[bobafetts-princess]

Suprise!

Have a Ghost drabble 😊

Pairings: Ghost x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1600 words

Warnings: masturbation, fantasizing about someone (is that a warning?) NO PiV, reader is a shit who gets under Ghost’s skin. Soap helps

Summary: Ghost can’t stop thinking about you, in every way

He watches you stretch up on your tiptoes to reach something off the top shelf and he has to inhale deeply to keep himself calm. He desperately wants to go help you but he knows you’ll refuse it. He’s never felt this way about a woman before, this deep, possessive need for you. There’s something about you, something that makes you different. Women rarely get this far in the military, mostly due to misogyny, especially this deep into spec-ops and he respects you for it. You hold your own, you don’t take the boys shit, and you’re beyond capable. Ghost isn’t sure what it is that draws him in the most, your beauty, your brain, or your capabilities, but he knows that watching you constantly doesn’t help.

But still, he can’t look away. Especially as you reach up higher, stretching further, and grab the box of cereal someone placed up there. He groans internally, thinking about how you’d look with your tac pants around your ankles, shoved up on your tiptoes with his cock buried in your pussy. He thinks about the breathy sounds you’d make as he thrusts into you again and again. He’s got to stop thinking about it or he’s not going to be able to stand up for the next half hour. Then he hears you laugh and his eyes focus back on you, now hopped up on the counter as you reach for bowls that are…..for some reason also on the top shelf. You’re on your knees and Simon’s staring straight as your perky ass, bubbly and round in your pants and he’s gotta shake thoughts of what it would look like reddened by his handprints out of his head.

“Guys. Did you put everything on the top shelf?” You ask but Simon can tell you’re amused by the silly little prank. You’re sitting on the counter now, bowl in one hand and cereal in the other, the army green of the tank top you’re wearing complimenting your skin tone. He can’t stop the thought about fisting the material and pulling it over your head as he’s got two fingers buried inside you.

“Aye lass,” Soap chuckles and Simon’s hand tightens on his water bottle. Gaz and Roach are hanging out in the kitchen too, but it’s pretty clear who’s joke this was. He’s pretty sure the two of you aren’t fucking, but the way Soap’s hands fall on your waist to help you down is very familiar. He murmurs something to you, something that makes you laugh, and Simon has to tamp down the rage building in his bones at it. You pour your bowl of cereal, Soap’s chest pressed against your shoulder as he whispers nonsense in your ear. For the briefest flash of a moment Simon wonders what you’d look like pressed between the two of them, but he gets rid of the thought with a shake of his head.

“Y’alright Ghosty?” The Scotsman asks, eyes flipping to the grip Simon has on his water bottle.

“Fine,” Simon snaps, the bite in his tone more apparent than he intended.

“A’right, well, Blue Jay here asked ya a question,” he drawls, speaking a little slower to make sure Simon’s paying attention. Your call sign draws his attention, usually Soap uses your government name. You’d been gifted the call sign after you’d gotten separated from the others on a mission and managed to take down 4 fully armed guards with just a hunting knife. Price had given you the name, laughing when the others asked him why.

“Ya ever seen a Blue Jay? Pretty birds but mean as fuck. They’ll peck ya with their beaks the same way Blue took down those guards with only a knife. I think it’s fitting,” he’d explained.

“My apologies, what did you ask?” Simon says, his eyes making contact with your own. He tries to soften his tone, make it seem like he’s not riled up and frustrated.

“I asked if you’d get up there and get me a spoon, since Soap here put all the utensils up there too and won’t get me one. And I don’t feel like climbing on the counters again,” Soap chuckles, clearly pleased with his own joke. Ghost stands, stalking towards the two of you. Soap clears out but you don’t, standing your ground even as he encroaches on your space.

“Which cabinet are they?” He snips, annoyed at being this close to you without being allowed to put his hands on you.

“This one,” you say as you point straight up at the cabinet above your head. You’re leaning back against the counter, chin tipped up slightly as you take in Simon’s form. He’s not wearing the tac-vest, but he’s still huge towering over you.

“You gonna move, Blue?” Ghost drawls.

“Nope,” you respond. Ghost calls your bluff, stepping further into your space, one of his thick arms brushing against you. The cabinet is still open and he leans forwards to reach for a spoon. His chest brushes against yours and his nostrils flare as he feels the heat of you. Dirty little minx, he thinks to himself as he presses further against you and feels your breasts against him. His hands grope around for a spoon and he’s not having any luck finding one. Reaching further, his hips press against yours and he has to fight for control when he hears your sharp inhale. He’s so distracted looking for the spoon and trying his damndest not to get hard that he doesn’t hear the rattle of a drawer.

“Where in the bloody-“ he starts, glancing down at you, now wearing a Cheshire Cat grin as you hold the spoon you pulled out of the open drawer on your right. Soap busts out laughing but stops when Ghost turns that deadly stare onto him.

“Think that’s funny, do ya?” He snaps at you, leaning down and placing hands on either side of your torso. He revels in the flash of fear he sees in your eyes, he’s a scary man and you should be afraid of him. But it morphs into something else, something Simon is afraid to pinpoint in case he’s wrong about it. But you swallow hard, setting the bowl down and speaking.

“Actually, I do, Lieutenant,” you mouth curls around the term in a way that gets Simon’s blood hot and he has to get out of here, has to get away from you before he makes you say it that way over and over again, preceded by a thank you as he fills you to the brim. Before he watches you wince because his cock is just a touch too big for your sweet pussy.

But he can’t do any of those things because he’s your Lieutenant, your superior, most certainly not your lover. But when his eyes flick back to yours, there’s no mistaking the lust in your eyes as you look at him. There’s no mistaking the way your chest heaves as his eyes glide across it. No mistaking the way you squirm when he growls in his throat. He wants you, wants you so bad, and you want him too.

But Price walks in and the electricity of the moment snaps and he shoves away from the counter, his mind filled with images of you begging for it harder from him. Begging for his hand around your throat. On your knees, eyes watering as he shoves his cock down your pretty little throat. He’s half mast as he shoves past Price, who isn’t even phased by Ghost’s temper.

“What happened to you, Blue?” He asks you and Simon can only imagine how you look. Eyes wide, mouth slack, skin flushed. He’s sure you look flustered and pride flares in his chest that he’s the reason you are. His heavy boots stomp down the hall to the showers and if the floor wasn’t concrete he’s pretty sure he’d be leaving footprints with how hard he’s stepping.

He makes it to the showers, undressing in a rush as he flips the water on. His mask stays on as he slips under the hot water, it only reaches chest height anyways, images of you flitting through his mind. He thinks about you, bent over and back arched, taking him so deep you can’t put words together. He thinks about sending you out into the wilderness and tracking you down, taking you hard over a broken log when he finally catches you. He thinks about your face and what it would feel like to press his mouth against yours, to shove his tongue down your throat.

Ghost thinks about the way you’d feel when you come all over his cock, the soft little moan you’d give him and the way your nails would bite into his skin. He thinks about the way he wouldn’t pull out, not for all the money in the world and how he’d make you go back to work with his spend dripping down your thighs and soaking your panties. It’s that final image that gets him to release, the image of him putting your soaked panties back on so you can soak them through for an entirely different reason, then watching you shift all day as he leaks out of you.

He comes, spurting hard against the shower door, groaning your name as he does. The blood roars in his ears and he can’t hear a damn thing for a solid thirty seconds. He doesn’t hear the door open. Doesn’t hear the sound of your feet as you enter the bathroom. He does hear your voice though, echoing through the bathroom.

“Ghost?”

Want another part? Find it here!

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