#the other panels are wild too

[chiangyorange]

dear fellow soldier, i feel as though i betrayed you (because i have betrayed myself)

>

[frownyalfred]

in the wise words of Reddit: “he looks even more intimidating in that panel than with his Batman suit.”

(other panels here)

[necrotic-nephilim]

jealousy really is the driving force of DamiTim as a ship. love that for them. love how Tim has the Robin mantle ripped away from him and he has to suffer the jealousy of watching Dick and Damian bond. how possessive over Dick Tim can be, to have him stolen by Dick.

even more so though, is the jealousy from Damian. how on earth do you cope when you finally get to be Robin, a role you've convinced is your birthright, and no one really likes you? every prefers the Robin who came before you? Dick regularly reminds you that he can always go and call Tim back when you act out? like the complex Damian has over Tim is unreal. Tim, who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and had everything handed to him his whole life. he never had to struggle or fight for his place like Damian did. Damian has spent his whole life fighting and proving himself, and yet he can't ever seem to truly claw the mantle of Robin away from Tim. even when Tim lets it go, becomes Red Robin, they seem to share it. Tim can slip back into the role of Robin whenever someone like Dick or Bruce need him to, because *he's* the Robin who they need. he's the Robin who was able to find Bruce. he's the Robin that Ra's wants an heir out of. he's the Robin who even Jason respects. in Damian's eyes, everything Damian has fought tooth and nail for, was handed to Tim.

so of course he's going to react to Tim with violence and aggression, especially after finding out Tim has contingency plans for him. no matter how much Damian proves himself, he's never going to be enough, especially not to Tim. and so his deep refusal to see Tim as family, to acknowledge Tim's legacy is all driven by such an angry jealousy. Tim understands aspects of Bruce's legacy that Damian doesn't, like the need to sweet talk and play nice with the elites of Gotham, even if they're corrupt. they exemplify different aspects of Robin, and the aspects that Tim exemplifies are the aspects that Damian knows he'll never fully understand and therefore holds such a deep contempt for. he wants to fight criminals, not play nice with politicians. Tim understands the side of Gotham that's utterly foreign to Damian. if anything, he represents that side of Gotham, to Damian. a pretty little rich boy who's nothing but a know-it-all and not a real son of Bruce. he can't be a Wayne. he can't be Damian's family.

and all of that angry jealousy leading to unhealthy obsession turned a weird, angry crush from Damian is just my bread and butter. that is how DamiTim should be. to me. Damian obsessed over hating Tim Drake so much he accidentally ends up sort of in love with him and that only makes Damian angrier. because he can't prove everyone right by *also* liking Tim. he can't let Ra's win like that, because frankly why wouldn't Ra's be delighted by Damian and Tim getting together. and it builds and builds with angry passive aggression towards Tim that culminates in angry hate-fucking-that's-not-just-driven-by-hate. love and hate are always viewed as opposites in shipping and i think they're the same intense passion just in different directions. and for the best ships, they're very intertwined. what is DamiTim is not the peak of that. "i put so much of myself into hating you i had no choice but to fall in love with you somewhere along the way" core. love that bleeds into hate and hate that bleeds into love. "you make me so angry i regularly passively try to kill you but not with any real effort because who would i obsess over if you were actually gone" core. murder attempts as a form of courting. contingency plans to take each other out as a love language. they're unwell.

[ayoyoungg]

I finally met JO1 😭😭😭

8.20.23

[kyri45]

The time is coming

Guys, it has been a wild ride, but, alas, I'm here to bring you some mixed news.

Unfortunately, we are reaching the end of the ShadowPeach Bio Parents AU. Part 8 is almost done and Part 9 will be anywhere between 11 and 15 chapters posted every other day.

Do not despair! I haven't lost motivation or anything. This ending was planned since the beginning (July 2024)

But! Let's not make this a sad event! Instead, I'm planning a pletora of activities that'll keep you busy while our story reach its end.

Shadowpeach takeover 2, Electric Boogaloo!

That's right! We are back baby! It's still too early to give you a specific date, but you can expect the next takeover to be anywhere between March 6th to March 15th. So you have one full month to prepare any kind of post! Remember, ANY kind of post (even just a text post with the tag)

This time the stakes are not so high, we only aim to bring the #Lego Monkie Kid tag at n°1 place on the trending page!

The reward? Just the same, 2 updates on the same day!

Road To Parenthood - Art Contest!

The AU is now counting at more than 1260 panels! But some scenes stayed with us more than others. In occasion of the ending, I'm running an art contest! Re-draw your favourite panel from the story! (can be done in any medium!) and tag it with the #Road To Parenthood tag to partecipate!

The winner will receive a signed print of the original panel!

You have time until March 8th to upload your piece! The winner will be selected from a random selection from the top 10 fanarts!

You CAN REBLOG/REPOST one of your OLD fanarts of the AU for the contest! You can also use the same piece for the takeover as a submission! Just be sure to use the right tag!

Final Party!

Finally! The very last chapter WONT be a series of images, but only a video. a VERY special video! Expect to have another premiere on my YT+ having the video posted here on Tumblr as well!

On the day of the finale (which will be on a saturday, dw), I'll be hosting a 3 hours Livestream on my TWITCH PAGE BEFORE the video comes out, in which we will go through the ENTIRE STORY together, as I give my commentary to every chapter!

Again, thank you for all the support until now, I hope you will all enjoy what's coming next as much as I envisioned in all these months!

[spacey-xannabelle]

[Major Outer Wilds/EOTE spoilers below the cut!]

HUOHKAY, After chipping away at this for over a month, my Outer Wilds comic is finally done!!

Initially I wanted to do this in two parts, like how many other versions of this beloved Undertale quote have done. But in the middle of thumbnailing the sketch, I thought why not illustrate Hatchling's journey too and I further expanded this project, by a lot hfjdjg

Outer Wilds is such a fantastic game and truly one of a kind, I only hope I did the game justice with this comic I made

----

Some artist notes below, if you're interested in reading all of it!

I began this project around early August!

I separated each page to their own canvases so I don't have a ridiculously huge file size. And each canvas has a different name. From the first to the last, their names go: It's you > Nova > Loop > Lonely > Glade > Despite everything.

Glade was actually a really long canvas that I split into two, bc I wanted to experiment with like a vertical scroll thing. So the Glade pages were split into Glade A and Glade B

My favourite page to work on was page 2, the supernova was fun to make, especially with the pointilism brush that CSP had which made it way easier.

Page 4 initially had a way different layout before I settled with this one. As shown below here:

But when I did a second pass, I rearranged the panels and instead decided to illustrate scenes that Hatchling had with the two.

With Solanum, it's learning and translating her texts on the QM. With Prisoner, it's when you discover the truth and after the vision…

For the Gabbro and Hatchling panel, I changed it so that both are at a distance and facing away from the viewer. As like a sort of way to show that Hatchling is having the reality of the situation dawn on them and try to cope with it. I did name this canvas "lonely" for a reason ::)

My Hatchling's name is Pyrite, or Pyre ::)

[super-ion]

The Engineer

Part 6

(part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5)

I catch a glimpse of the Pilot as she is wheeled towards the med bay. Her eyes are wild, panicked, with the glaze of just having been torn out of herself.

For a moment, as the gurney slides by, those eyes briefly clear, ice blue pinning me to the spot. She reaches out with an emaciated arm, fast as lightning, and takes hold of my wrist in an iron grip.

She moves her lips, at first unable to form words, unable to remember how to use human speech organs.

"Do your job," she says, slowly, deliberately, as if that singular command is the only thing in the universe that matters.

Something in the gurney clicks and whirs and she slips into catatonia. Her grip loosens and her fingers trail away.

Something has gone terribly wrong in this last engagement.

Alarms blare and booted feet thunder past me.

My own feet join the cacophony.

I have a job to do.

The Pilot is alive and she is now the responsibility of the med team.

My responsibility is the Machine.

Do your job.

The words echo in my head as I sprint the remaining distance to the vestibule.

A tech tries to stop me, he says something I don't quite process. I shove past him and am greeted by a scene out of a nightmare.

Morrigan's hatch has been severed, the emergency release pyros having been triggered. The parts of her hull visible to the vestibule are pitted and blackened. I can't even find the stencilled lettering of her factory designated identifier, just an ugly hole torn open by an incendiary.

Inside, the cockpit is a mess of fire suppressant and crash gel. Indicator lights form a constellation of blinking red and half of the display panels, the half that still work, flash an endless stream of error messages.

Everything reeks of ammonia and ozone and scorched metal.

"Me or Morrigan could get dead in the next engagement."

The nonchalance with which those words had been delivered caught me off guard when they were spoken. Morrigan and Her Pilot are untouchable. They were supposed to be untouchable.

Do your job.

I begin to strip as fast as humanly possible. I need to get in there. I need to know that she is alive.

The tech that tried to stop me grabs my arm. You can't go in there, the reactor has not been stabilized.

I tear myself from his grip.

I have a job to do, I say with a snarl.

Something in my expression, my bared teeth, my feral eyes, convinces him to leave me be. He stands down, hands raised in surrender. He could call security, but by the time they get here, I'll already be jacked in, and it will be too late for them to do anything.

Do your job. Do your job. Do your job.

My job is information recovery and analysis.

My job is to save as much as I can.

I need to save Her.

One of the cameras spots me and the others focus on me in panicked motion. The one nearest to me has a cracked lens and the iris flutters open and closed, unable to focus.

The cradle has been mangled nearly beyond recognition. They had to physically cut the Pilot out of Her, neither of them willing to let go of the other. The still operable mechanisms of it jerk erratically, trying vainly to reconfigure for me. Her neural interface port reaches towards me desperately.

I scrabble to Her, pressing myself into the cradle. The shorn, inoperable pieces dig painfully into my flesh. The neural insertion is not gentle, the plug scrapes painfully against my skin before it finds the jack and shoves roughly into me.

"I'm here," I tell Her as the link is established.

It's bad.

It's worse than I feared.

Reactor housing is damaged. System failsafes are vainly attempting to stabilize it while ground crews work as fast at they can towards a purge of the system.

Her processor core… fuck. My mind struggles to make sense of the telemetry stream. Multiple processor modules fractured. Unstable resonance modes. Positron avalanche. System collapse imminent.

My breath catches and my heart pounds in my chest.

She is dying.

Do your job.

The umbilical data lines aren't receiving, rogue processes are preventing access to primary communication channels. I work furiously to establish auxiliary paths for the data transfer. In fits and starts, the data recorder begins streaming into the facility mainframe.

There is a problem.

The data repository is meant for telemetry and battle space recordings. If I attempted to back up her core personality engrams, everything that makes her who she is, the data would get scrubbed and purged faster than I could back them up elsewhere.

There isn't time to set up an alternate backup repository.

- PILOT STATUS?

"She's safe," I tell Her. “You completed your mission. Your Pilot… Our Pilot is safe.”

- ENGINEER STATUS?

"Status is… not good…"

- PLEASE DO NOT CRY.

Fuck.

I drag my hand over my face, smearing the tears gathering in my eyes.

Now that the data is streaming there is nothing I can do but feel her die as I lie in her embrace.

I can not conceive a reality in which I exist without her.

And the Pilot. The Pilot will not survive, not with half of who she is destroyed.

"The three of us, we're just this fucking tangle, aren't we?"

Do your job.

Save Her.

Save. Her.

I know this system. I know it more intimately than anyone alive.

There *is* one data connection I haven't considered. There *is* one piece of external storage currently connected.

Shit.

I act.

I open up a new interface in my hud. Morrigan's attention fixes on me, on the calculations I'm running through my head and I can feel Her dawning horror over the link.

Neural bleed. It works both ways.

All neural rigs are designed to facilitate data transfer between an organic brain and a mechanical one. Mine is no exception. Mine hasn't undergone all the upgrades needed for a pilot's full sensorium, but the core neural interface is the same.

If I disable safety overrides, if I bypass the data buffers, I can download her personality engrams directly into my prefrontal cortex.

I have no idea what that will do to me.

Exceptional synchrony and neuro-elasticity. That's what my intake assessments had said all those years ago. I was in the upper quintile among all pilot candidates. Maybe that was my downfall. Maybe that's why I washed out.

Maybe that's why I'm here now, contemplating this singularly desperate act.

Maybe that's why my neural bleed with Her has been so deep. Maybe there is something in me that is in tune with Them.

But as far as I know, no one has ever attempted anything like this. It could very well kill me.

But the thought of living without Her is more terrifying than the prospect of dying. It's more terrifying than what might happen to me if this works.

Morrigan pleads with me.

- STOP.

"No. I can't stop," I reply. "I need you."

- NO.

"Yes, I do," I tell her. "Your Pilot needs you."

I can feel Her emotional flinch over the link. I have the one piece of leverage I need, and She knows it.

"Wouldn't you give anything, sacrifice anything to see her again?"

It's a dirty trick, I know it is, playing off that one connection, her deepest, most intimate connection. Maybe I mean something to Her, but She and the Pilot were made for each other in the most literal sense.

And I suddenly realize that I am doing this as much for the Pilot as any of us. That surprises me. As much as I have tried to distance myself from other human beings, I became entangled with her the moment I opened myself up to Morrigan.

I would never be able to face her if I didn't do everything in my power to save the Machine.

A processor module fails outright. The system struggles to reallocate resources, but submodules throughout the entire system are strained to their limit.

There isn't any time left and She knows it.

She sullenly acedes.

We begin working in concert, me working to disable safety protocols in my rig, Her working to isolate and distill Her core personality patterns into something that can be handled by the bandwidth of the interface.

An alarm pings over the link. Reactor purge in progress. Power fluctuations spike all over her systems. Her processor power distribution subsystem is completely fucked. It won't be able to keep up with current activity levels as the whole system switches over to umbilical power.

Out of time.

I engage the final override, by mind suddenly open to hers, the neural link unbuffered, unfiltered.

Her mind presses in on me and I glimpse the full sensorium. I feel all of her pain and fear and anguish at what she is about to do to me.

My fingers tingle before they go numb.

"Do it," I command her.

- I LOVE YOU.

Data transfer initiates.

This isn't neural bleed.

This is a flood.

My body convulses.

I taste something coppery in my mouth.

Someone somewhere screams.

The scream is mine.

My rig isn't built for this. My body isn't conditioned for this.

Every nerve in me blazes white hot.

My vision tunnels as auras bloom like bruises on the skin of reality.

Shouts of alarm call from outside the cockpit.

A face resolves itself, and for a moment I think it's Her.

The Pilot.

A Priestess.

An Angel.

No.

It.

It is one of the techs.

Then a medic.

More shouting.

Get her out of there!

Every muscle in my body clenches painfully.

I can barely breathe.

Cut her loose!

No.

It's not done yet. It's not enough.

It's too much.

Too much. Too much. Too much.

I can't.

I can't stop. Not yet.

Do your job.

Save Her.

My body convulses once again, and I pass into oblivion.

~~~

@digitalsymbiote @g1ngan1nja @thriron @ephemeral-arcanist @mias-domain @justasleepykitten @powder-of-infinity @valkayrieactual @chaosmagetwin @assigned-stupid-at-birth @avalanchenouveau @rtfmx9 @femgineerasolution @ibleedelectric @gd-s451 @brieflybitten

[revelboo]

i need you to know this because i find it hilarious; you update so often that tumblr's notification feature doesnt work for your blog any more xD IT GAVE UP!

Woo! I broke Tumblr AND Megatron 🤣

I’m going to make it worse- I’m sorry 18+ mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Everything Is Alright Pt 91

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Maybe he’s overreacting. There’s no possible way all of his followers are fragging humans behind his back. Seekers are just a bit weird, nothing new there. Vortex he already knew was a freak, but Soundwave was unexpected. Especially sharing with Starscream. Those two don’t even speak with each other. No, he doesn’t even want to go there or think about that. So there are five deviants among how many Decepticons on earth? A tiny percentage. Nothing to concern himself with. Head lifting at the sound of peds, he stiffens as the Constructicons pass by him, inclining their heads. Scavenger saluting him with the limp form of a human dangling from his servos their legs swinging. “You have one, too?” He growls, turning and stalking away. “Is everyone here fragging humans?”

• “What now with humans?” Mixmaster asks, sounding genuinely surprised. Optics narrowing at the Constructicons, he stalks off, back the way he’d come. Because he’s going to have answers. Even if he has to beat them out of Starscream.

• Shivering with sensitivity as Starscream’s mouth moves against yours, glossa tangling with your tongue, you whimper. Aware of Soundwave still lazily rocking himself against you, his spike stroking inside you as you touch your tongue to Star’s glossa. Of Soundwave’s servos flexing against your hips as he begins to move faster, the wet sound of his spike inside you as he rocks himself urgently against you until he makes a low, humming sound of pleasure and releases again. Of Star growling against your mouth to make you realize you’re making a mess on him.

• Hips rocking in shallow thrusts against you, Soundwave relaxes into the feel of you, your body fisting his spike and the wild, chaos of your mind cradled in his, both so familiar he’s not sure he can live without them. And so much more intense when he’s inside you, that connection liquid fire in his lines. Lighting him up with your thoughts and Starscream’s whether he wants them or not. Making him aware of every other Decepticon in the base and the handful of humans, too. All those minds sparking through him, until it nearly hurts. Lips brushing the back of your neck as he vents against your skin, he wonders if bonding you to him will make it easier to block out the unwanted thoughts or make it worse.

• Optics hooded as you make a soft sound when Soundwave slips free of you, Starscream reaches up to move your hair from your face, servos stroking over the curve of your cheek. Ignoring Soundwave, he frees his spike and croons at you when you reach for him and guide him to you. Hooking an arm around you and rolling you under him, hearing your startled moan. As much as he loves watching you take his spike, he wants control. Wants to pin you and breed you. Claim what’s his so fully you’ll forget all about Soundwave. Won’t need anyone but him.

• Servos trembling as he eases back to sit and watch the Seeker thrusting against you, Soundwave can still feel both of your minds, the effect lingering. Optics shuttering as your pleasure rings through him, becoming his. Intoxicating him as he listens to the sounds you make and Starscream’s low snarls. When Starscream pulls back the panels protecting his spark, claiming you that way while he takes your body, that jolts through him, too. Feeling that lonely ache of longing, even as he tries to disentangle his mind from yours. Because that’s too intimate to intrude on. Wanting it for himself he watches you arch under the Seeker with a ragged cry, bathed in the light of his spark.

• “Starscream-” Ready to seize the Seeker by the wings and shake the answers out of him, he stops short just inside the habsuite. Seeing Soundwave mass displaced still, sitting on the floor, spike slick and shiny against his thigh, his head turning away from watching Starscream rutting against the little human. Most of you hidden by the Seeker as he thrusts urgently against you, the scandalously wet sound mingling with the noises you’re making and the Seeker’s own growling. It’s the faint glow of Starscream’s spark limning your limbs as you writhe under him that shocks him the most. Because this isn’t just interfacing. This is almost taboo, illicit. Realizing his SIC has spark bonded a human, not just fragged one.

• Toes curling at the intensity of losing yourself in him, in the bond and the feel of his spike thrusting relentlessly inside you. Pinning you under him, hips snapping against you as you feel him venting against you. Surrounded by him and safety. Home. Feel something shift between you, almost a question as the warmth that’s him wraps more firmly around you. Coaxing and you’re not sure what he’s asking, there’s no words, but you still surrender willingly. His thrusts becoming rougher, more erratic and urgent. Mouth brushing your throat and denta sinking into your shoulder, that unexpected lick of pain tripping you over the edge. Hands clinging to him as he drives deep, shuddering against you as he finishes.

• Sliding an arm under the back of your head, wings trembling, his glossa slides against your shoulder. Hadn’t meant to bite hard enough to draw blood, but hadn’t been able to help himself. It had felt too good, too intense mixing interfacing and spark play. Just wants to linger in this moment. Enjoy the feel of you as your warm fingers slide against the mesh of his neck, down to dabble in his spark. The feel of you stroking through him triggering another release, his entire frame shuddering. “Lord Megatron,” Soundwave says, those words shattering his peace as his head lifts, denta bared and wings flaring out. Aware of you so vulnerable under him, stringing him tight and pushing him closer to losing control. Because right now, he’ll kill to keep what he has.

Previous

Next

You can order individual Blokees off of EBay. Folks buy entire cases hunting the rare figures then sell off the rest there. My one Constructicon and Nemesis Prime were blind boxes, the rest I bought as singles that way.

[todays-xkcd]

If you hold the meteor too long, it may imprint on you and form a contact binary, making reintroduction to space difficult.

Meteor Shower PSA [Explained]

Transcript

[A two panel comic with the panels next to each other.]

[In the left side of the first panel, Cueball spots a meteorite on the ground. It lies a bit buried in the earth between tufts of grass. On the right side, he's shown throwing the rock into the air, with small lines indicating the flight of the meteorite. There's an "X" above him. Above this there is the following text:] This meteor shower weekend, remember: If you find a meteor on the ground, don't try to return it to the sky yourself.

[In the left side of the second panel, Cueball is holding the meteorite in one hand and talking on his cellphone in his other hand, there's a check mark above him. In the middle of the panel Cueball is holding the meteorite out in both hands handing it to Ponytail who is also holding both hand out to receive it. To the right in the panel a rocket is blasting upwards with fire coming out beneath it and a plume of smoke showing its ascending path. Above this there is the following text:] Instead, contact an observatory where astronomical rehabbers will care for it, and hopefully release it back into the wild with the next space launch.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How Google’s trial secrecy lets it control the coverage

I'm coming to Minneapolis! Oct 15: Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Oct 16: Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

"Corporate crime" is practically an oxymoron in America. While it's true that the single most consequential and profligate theft in America is wage theft, its mechanisms are so obscure and, well, dull that it's easy to sell us on the false impression that the real problem is shoplifting:

https://newrepublic.com/post/175343/wage-theft-versus-shoplifting-crime

Corporate crime is often hidden behind Dana Clare's Shield Of Boringness, cloaked in euphemisms like "risk and compliance" or that old favorite, "white collar crime":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/07/solar-panel-for-a-sex-machine/#a-single-proposition

And corporate crime has a kind of performative complexity. The crimes come to us wreathed in specialized jargon and technical terminology that make them hard to discern. Which is wild, because corporate crimes occur on a scale that other crimes – even those committed by organized crime – can't hope to match:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/12/no-criminals-no-crimes/#get-out-of-jail-free-card

But anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. After decades of official tolerance (and even encouragement), corporate criminals are finally in the crosshairs of federal enforcers. Take National Labor Relations Board general counsel Jennifer Abruzzo's ruling in Cemex: when a company takes an illegal action to affect the outcome of a union election, the consequence is now automatic recognition of the union:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

That's a huge deal. Before, a boss could fire union organizers and intimidate workers, scuttle the union election, and then, months or years later, pay a fine and some back-wages…and the union would be smashed.

The scale of corporate crime is directly proportional to the scale of corporations themselves. Big companies aren't (necessarily) led by worse people, but even small sins committed by the very largest companies can affect millions of lives.

That's why antitrust is so key to fighting corporate crime. To make corporate crimes less harmful, we must keep companies from attaining harmful scale. Big companies aren't just too big to fail and too big to jail – they're also too big for peaceful coexistence with a society of laws.

The revival of antitrust enforcement is such a breath of fresh air, but it's also fighting headwinds. For one thing, there's 40 years of bad precedent from the nightmare years of pro-monopoly Reaganomics to overturn:

https://pluralistic.net/ApexPredator

It's not just precedents in the outcomes of trials, either. Trial procedure has also been remade to favor corporations, with judges helping companies stack the deck in their own favor. The biggest factor here is secrecy: blocking recording devices from courts, refusing to livestream the proceedings, allowing accused corporate criminals to clear the courtroom when their executives take the stand, and redacting or suppressing the exhibits:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-09-27-redacted-case-against-amazon/

When a corporation can hide evidence and testimony from the public and the press, it gains broad latitude to dispute critics, including government enforcers, based on evidence that no one is allowed to see, or, in many cases, even describe. Take Project Nessie, the program that the FTC claims Amazon used to compel third-party sellers to hike prices across many categories of goods:

https://www.wsj.com/business/retail/amazon-used-secret-project-nessie-algorithm-to-raise-prices-6c593706

Amazon told the press that the FTC has "grossly mischaracterize[d]" Project Nessie. The DoJ disagrees, but it can't say why, because the Project Nessie files it based its accusations on have been redacted, at Amazon's insistence. Rather than rebutting Amazon's claim, FTC spokesman Douglas Farrar could only say "We once again call on Amazon to move swiftly to remove the redactions and allow the American public to see the full scope of what we allege are their illegal monopolistic practices."

It's quite a devastating gambit: when critics and prosecutors make specific allegations about corporate crimes, the corporation gets to tell journalists, "No, that's wrong, but you're not allowed to see the reason we say it's wrong."

It's a way to work the refs, to get journalists – or their editors – to wreathe bold claims in endless hedging language, or to avoid reporting on the most shocking allegations altogether. This, in turn, keeps corporate trials out of the public eye, which reassures judges that they can defer to further corporate demands for opacity without facing an outcry.

That's a tactic that serves Google well. When the company was dragged into court by the DoJ Antitrust Division, it demanded – and received – a veil of secrecy that is especially ironic given the company's promise "to organize the world's information and make it universally accessible and useful":

https://usvgoogle.org/trial-update-9-22

While this veil has parted somewhat, it is still intact enough to allow the company to work the refs and kill disfavorable reporting from the trial. Last week, Megan Gray – ex-FTC, ex-DuckDuckGo – published an editorial in Wired reporting on her impression of an explosive moment in the Google trial:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

According to Gray, Google had run a program to mess with the "semantic matching" on queries, silently appending terms to users' searches that caused them to return more ads – and worse results. This generated more revenue for Google, at the expense of advertisers who got billed to serve ads that didn't even match user queries.

Google forcefully disputed this claim:

https://twitter.com/searchliaison/status/1709726778170786297

They contacted Gray's editors at Wired, but declined to release all the exhibits and testimony that Gray used to form her conclusions about Google's conduct; instead, they provided a subset of the relevant materials, which cast doubt on Gray's accusations.

Wired removed Gray's piece, with an unsigned notice that "WIRED editorial leadership has determined that the story does not meet our editorial standards. It has been removed":

https://www.wired.com/story/google-antitrust-lawsuit-search-results/

But Gray stands by her piece. She admits that she might have gotten some of the fine details wrong, but that these were not material to the overall point of her story, that Google manipulated search queries to serve more ads at the expense of the quality of the results:

https://twitter.com/megangrA/status/1711035354134794529

She says that the piece could and should have been amended to reflect these fine-grained corrections, but that in the absence of a full record of the testimony and exhibits, it was impossible for her to prove to her editors that her piece was substantively correct.

I reviewed the limited evidence that Google permitted to be released and I find her defense compelling. Perhaps you don't. But the only way we can factually resolve this dispute is for Google to release the materials that they claim will exonerate them. And they won't, though this is fully within their power.

I've seen this playbook before. During the early months of the pandemic, a billionaire who owned a notorious cyberwarfare company used UK libel threats to erase this fact from the internet – including my own reporting – on the grounds that the underlying research made small, non-material errors in characterizing a hellishly complex financial Rube Goldberg machine that was, in my opinion, deliberately designed to confuse investigators.

Like the corporate crimes revealed in the Panama Papers and Paradise Papers, the gambit is complicated, but it's not sophisticated:

Make everything as complicated as possible;

Make everything as secret as possible;

Dismiss any accusations by claiming errors in the account of the deliberately complex arrangements, which can't be rectified because the relevant materials are a secret.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/09/working-the-refs/#but-id-have-to-kill-you

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

Image: Jason Rosenberg (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/underpants/12069086054/

CC BY https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

--

Japanexperterna.se (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/japanexperterna/15251188384/

CC BY-SA 2.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[bluegarners]

bloodborne is great bc it really hammers in over and over that bruce does not communicate, he doesn't say anything, and not even to the detriment of others but to himself. he doesn't tell dick he buys flowers and visits mary and john grayson's graves every year- takes time off from batman to do so, too. he doesn't tell anyone his location when he's dying, or even what he's dying from because he knows if anyone comes into contact with him, they'll die *too. bruce and dick don't communicate with each other at all throughout bloodborne except for bruce telling dick to leave him to die, dick telling him he's going to be okay, and then literally on the last two panels, bruce says "thanks" and dick says "anytime"

they don't say anything else to each other the entire issue, nothing, and yet dick swaps half his blood supply with bruce after taking a risky vaccine, fights off dozens and dozens of men to protect bruce while injured and missing a lot of blood, blacks out multiple times only to keep getting up, and still ends the issue with "anytime". like what a wild issue. what absolute freaks.

*and like harping on that-- dick still looks for bruce. bruce intentionally goes off to die alone like some sick and old cat, and dick goes right after him. everyone acknowledges that bruce is off dying, there's no misconception there, and dick explicitly states that he needs to go alone to find bruce. just him in the mountains and the cold with no gear. just him off to find bruce with a heartbeat detector that isn't even the thing to find bruce because bruce's heart is sooo dreadfully slow that it can't be picked up on. dick literally finds him like he's the actual homing beacon, finds bruce dying and barely there, and dick just. picks him up and trudges on. insane!! they go off to die together and bruce tells him to leave him and dick says no you're going to live even if i have to sacrifice everything and everyone to make it happen!!

ANYTIME!!!!

[necrotic-nephilim]

what's fun about shipping Tim with Dick, Jason, or Damian is he has, at some point, hallucinated all of them to comfort himself. even when he doesn't like them or particularly get along with them, he has to imagine/hallucinate them just so he has the power to go on. Tim's concepts of the Robin mantle and what it should be is so fun, because he respects the others through the Robin mantle. Tim worships Dick because he was the first Robin. he wouldn't be Robin if Jason hadn't died in the mantle. and a lot of his frustration with Damian is he feels Damian isn't honoring the mantle correctly. when you ship Tim with the other Robins you can't divorce their identities as Robin from it because Tim will always see them as a Robin first and that's so fun and fucked up. like.

batman (1940) #456

Tim perceiving Dick as *Robin* cheering him on, not Nightwing, which is the version of Dick that Tim actually knows? that's just. wild of him. he will always view Dick as Robin first, his personal hero but also the original of the legacy. his love for Dick is shaped by that.

and then of course, even when he's hallucinating/imagining Jason cheering him on, it's *still* through the lense of being reminded how Jason failed? subconsciously believing that Jason got himself killed because of his actions, and that being a lesson for Tim to learn from? Jason isn't a person to Tim, he's a moral lesson about how to be Robin. any potential idolization he could have of Jason isn't because he loves Jason, it's because of the lessons Jason's death taught him.

and then, even though him hallucinating TIm is from the New-52, which makes characterization all kinds of questionable, i do think it makes sense for TIm to hallucinate/imagine Damian after Damian's death in an attempt to cope with it.

teen titans (2011) #18

to an extend, he sees Damian's death as in part his own fault. and even hating Damian, Tim needs the comfort from this to cope with Damian being gone. he's angry that Damian even was Robin, and has to learn something from Damian's death and how it impacts the Robin mantle, and teenage heroes as a whole. like, Tim can pretend he hates Damian all he wants, even getting taunted by the image of Damian, but there's still an underlying love to their relationship.

i think that's just the fun of shipping Tim with any of them. you will never divorce Tim's views of them from the Robin mantle and how fucking Unwell he is about anyone else who's been Robin before or after him, to the point he has to hallucinate them comforting him when he's at his lowest. it's always going to be a little unhealthy, a little toxic, and driven by Tim's relationship with being Robin as well. i need more Tim being weird about Robin in these ships.

[ramp-it-up]

Peach, Part II

Part I Part III

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky because it's the right thing to do. When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet.

Pairing: Bartender/ Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I love these two and there is so much to say. More parts to come.This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and occurs up to the events in the Bucky Barnes fic You've Got me Thinking. I'm so done for with Steve and Peach. The next part will be published next week! ☺️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angsty angst! Steve is called ‘Steve’ and ‘Grant’ alternately, depending on POV. Mutual pining, masturbation, financial difficulties, mild stalking/surveillance, Steve lying, Steve using an alias, exotic dance life; wild thoughts, flirting, hand holding, intense sexual tension, kissing, making out, feeling each other up, third base, dirty talk, voice kink, praise kink, fingering, finger f ucking, betryal. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

November

“Peach…” 

Steve whispered it like a prayer, or a spell, trying to conjure you to appear next to him in the king sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets at the Four Seasons. His voice was a gravelly groan and he tried to keep his hands off himself despite the lurid thoughts playing behind his eyelids.

He couldn’t stop thinking of you and he couldn’t calm down. 

And it was all your fault. 

Steve felt as if he had a hangover although he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. His mind was clouded with dreams of you all night. Your eyes, your voice, and your wit were drawing him to you. 

The image of your body and that pole, the sway of your generous hips, the swell of your breasts made him breathless and made his cock thicken under the covers. It rose and pounded to the beat of his heart when he thought of those eyes. 

The fantasy of those eyes blown with lust as you opened your mouth wide to deep throat him impelled his hand to his thick staff and tight balls.

“Fuck!”

He wasn’t going to do this. 

Steve flung the sheets away as he stood up to pull on some basketball shorts and a t-shirt, grabbing his key card as he left his room on the way down to the hotel gym. He only nodded politely at the hot brunette who smiled at him as she got on and stood too close. Steve shifted away and stared up at the floor indicator panel as he thought of you.

There was no one else in the world as he floated to the treadmill on a cloud of thoughts of you. As he increased his speed, he replayed all of the different colors in your eyes as you talked to him yesterday. He ran toward an impossible dream of you and him together.

Yeah. Steve Rogers, known to you as Grant Stevens, was screwed.

—--

You woke up with a gasp as your body convulsed from your wanton dreams. You sat up in bed and tried to capture the wisp of your vivid imagination that had gotten you there. You were so wet for a certain new bartender at your night job.

The only thing you could remember from the dream was the image of Grant’s lips and the sensation of his fingers on your hand from the day before. You ran your hands down your body and tried to imagine what his touch and those lips would feel like everywhere you wanted them to be. 

Your fingers found your clit and your tight nipples, squeezing, pinching and rubbing in time with your desperation for Grant. You came quickly as you imagined those lips replacing your digits and his deep voice in your ear. 

After, you lay in bed a moment longer, satisfied for the moment, yet yearning for the real thing. It had been too long since you’d had human romantic contact.

But you barely knew the man. You shook your head as you padded to the shower to start the water and then to the coffee maker to turn it on. 

Your real-life daily routine had no time for Grant Stevens. 

Sorry to that man.

—

Steve sat in the coffee shop at the corner of Peachtree and West Peachtree street at 10:30 am. He grumbled to himself thinking of all the streets similarly named in Atlanta which also reminded him of you. 

But the streets weren't making him stalk you at your day job. He was there to research his investment. 

That was it.

He looked down at his laptop, open to the file that his tech guy, Miles, was able to send over to him in just under two hours. Thanks to the information therein, Steve knew that you would be in at any moment to get the typical online pick up order for your morning break. He also knew that you’d been at work since 8:30, which was amazing considering you got home at 3:45 am. 

Steve learned that you worked as the Adult Dance Coordinator at the Atlanta Ballet, which seemed like a high end job, but when he saw your salary, 40K a year, he realized that was just a little over $700 a week. Your bank balance was at zero and your student loans were astronomical. 

He understood why you worked your second job.

Your degree was in Dance Performance and Choreography from Spelman, and based on the look on your face when you went into Regine the day before, the way you were immersed in the music when you warmed up, and the way your body moved, he knew that you were good at it.

Steve looked back at his laptop to see that you also had your own fledgling dance school, Peach Preserves. The photos on the website made him smile. He could feel your energy with the kids through the screen. It warmed his heart to know that you were trying to make your dream work.

He happened to look up at the moment that you entered the cafe. He almost ducked under the table, but you didn’t see him, just went to the counter, picked up your drink and chatted briefly to the barista. Then you headed out of the door, in the opposite direction of Atlanta Ballet headquarters.

Five minutes later, Steve was tailing you on a walk around the huge Atlanta city block as you sipped your coffee and smiled at almost everyone.

You were such a cutie, from your sickeningly cute, sensible heels, to the fucking cute pencil skirt that conformed to your curves and caused more than one person to crane their necks as you passed them, to the damn cute cashmere sweater that wasn’t tight, but still molded to the body that Steve itched to feel for himself.

As you went back into your place of employment, Steve felt a loss at you being out of his sight. He felt like a 14 year old kid watching his crush go to class. 

But this was not that, he thought. He had to know what type of employees Regine had, and you were the sample. He was just handling business.

That was all. 

—-

Steve was busy the next couple of days straightening out the finances and employees at Regine, especially Sully, who had taken a sudden leave of absence in the middle of the night and would not be missed.

Steve decided to keep the club, and that would be far more work than getting rid of it. Bucky was annoyed, but he wasn’t anyone’s boss. Rebirth and its holdings was a group project.

Despite all that he had to do, Steve could not stop thinking about you. There were numerous times that he caught himself daydreaming about being with you, but he did not allow himself to believe it could really happen. 

It was an impossibility. 

When he came in to Regine on Friday, you were sitting at the bar with your head in your hands. It was 2 pm and you were about an hour and a half early for work. 

He was instantly concerned. He was about to crash out, knowing that he would never rest knowing that someone out there might have hurt you, or made you sad. He would either kill them or fix it.

But instead he took a deep breath.

“You okay, Peach?”

You looked up at him, those gorgeous eyes watery. You gave him a weak smile, and he just wanted to take you into his arms. He didn’t know you wanted the exact same thing.

“Yeah, Grant. I’m just great.”

You shook your head and then laid it down on the bar on your crossed arms.

“Wanna talk about it?” 

He slid into the barstool next to you.

“Well, a lot of shit has happened in the last couple of days, but long story short, I left my work bag all the way in Kirkwood, and I’ll never get there and back on the bus in time. It will take all night.”

Steve was confused. He looked down at the bag on your lap.

“Is that not your bag? Why are you going on the bus?”

He had so many questions.

You took the bag in your hands and huffed, frustrated.

“Yes, this is my bag, but it’s my dance class bag with my day job clothes in it. I usually leave it in my car when I come in here. But my car is… in the shop…”

You started crying in earnest and jumped slightly when Grant put his hand on yours then relaxed. His touch distracted you, but you were still upset.

“How long will it take in a car? I can give you a ride.”

You looked up hopefully, then your face closed, wary.

“About 45 minutes, but I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. As a comrade.”

You looked up into his eyes again and sniffled.Grant was a nice guy. And you felt that you could trust him. 

“I’d owe you big time.” 

Steve smiled, making you feel warm inside. 

“Give me five and we’ll be ready to go.”

He left to go talk to the other bartender and was back by your side in moments.

“Car is out here.”

Stepping into the cool November Atlanta night let you take a deep breath and clear your head, but now your nerves were ramping up for another reason as you walked next to Grant until you came to a red Audi RS7.

You peered up at him as he held the door open for you. 

“Nice car for a bartender.”

Why did your voice come out all breathy like that?

Grant smiled down at you, making your stomach do that little flippy thing it had been doing the past few days when you thought of him.

“It’s a loaner. My car is in the shop, too.”

You nodded slowly and settled into the leather and wood interior thinking about your story. You looked over at him as he drove, the afternoon light from the road playing over the planes of his face, and marveled at his profile.

Those eyes, the cheekbones, the lips. He glanced over and caught you ogling him. Your cheeks heated and you smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just… can I tell you something?”

—--

Steve had been driving, keeping his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel in order to get you to where you were going safely. Your scent in such close proximity was making his mouth water and his dick hard.

Thoughts of pulling over and dragging you over onto his lap were driving him crazy. He was lost in thought until the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

Glancing over, he saw you staring at him. Your flush and shy smile made him even harder.

Were you checking him out?

Did you want him too?

He raised his eyebrow at you, his heart beating double time at the thought. 

But then you asked the question.

Can I tell you something? 

You were basically asking if you could trust him. Shit.

You sighed, your breasts rising and falling with the filling of your lungs. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, but it was hard. He was hard.

“What do you need to tell me?”

“My car is not in the shop. It was repossessed.”

There. You said it. The truth was so freeing. You felt as if you could be yourself with Grant, not put up the thug front that you did with everyone else.

He looked over at you, switching quickly between you and the road until you hit a red light, his jaw ticked tight with some mysterious emotion. 

Your stomach flipped when the heat of his full attention was on you.

“What?”

“Yeah. Happened the other day. Woke up and my car was gone. My neighbor said they saw it towed about 2 am.”

Steve's mind whirled, thinking of the financial information in your file. 

“But I thought you—” 

He stopped short, not wanting to give himself away. He did want to pull over so that he could see your face, but he knew that you were anxious to get back to the club.

“I mean… you seem to have it all together. Are you okay?”

His sentiment had you in your feelings.

“Yeah. I’m used to hustling. I’ve been juggling finances ever since I graduated college. Spelman is a great school, but it’s hella expensive. 30K a year after my scholarship. I owe close to 100K on student loans, and then there’s rent on the studio.”

You looked over at him, barreling ahead despite knowing that you were word vomiting all over him.

“I’m trying to start a dance school. It’s my dream. But it costs money. So I took out a title loan on my car, even though it was paid off.”

“Wow.” 

Steve cleared his throat. Those predatory title loan places often didn’t legally record the loans, just charge outrageous interest and repossess at the first missed payment. That’s why it wasn’t in your file.

“What about your folks?”

“My parents died in a car accident my sophomore year at Spelman. No insurance. My family is aunts and uncles and cousins, and they help when I ask and if they can but…”

Your eyes glazed over as the car pulled to a stop light.

“I’m pretty much my own family.” 

Steve looked into your eyes and wanted to belong to you. He looked down and took your hand. You took a shuddering breath as your stomach flipped.

“Grant…”

He frowned as you called his name.

“I’m not telling you this to ask for money. I just need a ride. Just wanted to be honest with you.”

Steve felt like a jerk. He wanted to tell you the truth.

“Peach…”

“I’m serious. If I have another night like I did Tuesday, I got it. I need three stacks to get the car back..”

The wheels were turning in Steve’s mind. 

“Okay. You should easily earn what you need tonight.” 

He’d make sure of it.

You relaxed and smiled at him, noticing that he still had your hand in his. He rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand and you shivered.

“Thank you for telling me, Peach.”

“Thank you for listening, Grant. And for not trying to rescue me. I really appreciate it. Not that you could. You probably don’t have over a hundred K just lying around…”

He threw you a look while driving, his expression unreadable.

“Anytime, Peach.” 

His voice came out gruff. He cleared his throat. 

“I do know of a private endowment in New York that might be able to help. It’s called the Rebirth Foundation. It’s an Arts organization. They have awards up to a million dollars a year. You could apply…”

“Hmmmm. How do you know about this endowment?”

“I’m from Brooklyn. It’s a thing up there.”

You smirked.

“I knew you had a funny accent, Been trying to place it.”

“I have a funny accent?”

“Asshole!”

You hit him on the shoulder. He chuckled. 

“Anyway, I know a couple of people who’ve benefited from the endowment. Worth a shot.”

You were skeptical, but he was just trying to help. 

“Okay, send me the information.”

“I’ll send it to you when we stop. Just put your number in my phone and I will text it to you.”

Grant handed his phone to you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was an elaborate scheme to get my digits.”

Steve laughed. He already had your number, but now he’d have an excuse.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Fuck you, Grant Stevens.”

He cleared his throat, thinking he’d allow you to fuck him. You riding him in the back of a town car as you drove around New York City was in his top three. 

“Cool. You know, you don’t have to pretend to be angry. You can just ask to use my body...”

You scoffed.

“You know what? I think I hate you.”

“I think it’s the opposite, but you have a wall up.”

He was right. You didn’t hate him, you just hated how he read you right then.

“Grant–”

“Okay, we’re here...”

You stared at him until he raised his eyebrow at you. Then you lowered your eyes and chewed your bottom lip. Next thing you knew, his hand was on your chin pulling your lip from between your teeth, rubbing his thumb over your mouth. Your eyes went wide as saucers as you gasped for breath. 

Steve dropped his hand rather than push his thumb into your mouth like he wanted to. He nodded at the studio. 

“Do you want me to get your bag?”

His voice was gravelly with desire and you struggled with the ability to speak. You wanted this man.

Badly.

You were doomed, was the companion thought.

“No… no. Tameka is holding it for me. I’ll be right back…”

“Okay.”

Steve was holding the wheel in death grip and staring out of the window. He watched you go into the studio and thought of all the reasons why what he was happening was a bad idea. Women were a means to an end for him, occasional companionship, physical satisfaction. 

No strings. Ever. 

The ones he dealt with knew that very well. 

Unfortunately, you had him tied up in all kinds of strings with knots at the moment.

—--

By the time you got back to the club, Steve sent you a fake website that Miles had constructed in 30 minutes. As soon as the application hit, more money than you needed would be headed your way.

He just needed you to actually apply.

The night went by painfully slowly. Grant insisted that he give you a ride home after work and you agreed, causing some weird anticipation anxiety thing that was, for you, only alleviated on the stage. You zoned out and earned the most tips you ever had, partly because he was your inspiration. 

Customers were making it rain. You felt Grant’s eyes on you all night and the more you danced for him, the more money came your way. The tension between you was only building, and you both knew that him driving you home would be the climax. In more ways than one.

After work, at three am Saturday morning, with over $2K in your bag, Steve drove you to your place. This time, both of you were silent, and both your eyes were on the road. It was like time and all coherent thought were suspended. 

When the car pulled up in front of your apartment, you turned to him.

“Want to come in?”

It was a simple question, and one that would make Steve’s life infinitely more complicated if he took you up on it.

Yet he didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

—

As soon as he stepped behind you at your door, the raw animal in Steve was activated. He crowded you, standing much closer than necessary, breathing on your neck and making you shiver as you unlocked the door. But you didn’t mind. No. Not at all.

He was overwhelming this close, but in a good way. His scent, his warmth, his power. You wanted all of that. All over you.

When you got inside, you turned around in the entryway and he.

Was. Right. There.

You looked up at him under your eyelashes as he stared at you, nostrils flaring and jaw ticking with restraint.

Damn him, it should be illegal for him to look that fucking good. 

“I’m just itching to kiss you Peach. Can I? Want to so bad.”

His blue eyes roamed your face, then down your body in a possessive glare. 

God, it made your nipples tight and panties wet.

“Please…”

The way he begged for you broke any resolve that you may have had. You reached for him, grabbed the white tee shirt that was underneath his flannel and pulled him close to you. 

His jaw relaxed as his mouth slanted in a side smile as your arms reached up and wound around his neck, fingers tangling in the long, thick hair spilling over his collar and pulled him down as your lips connected. 

The kiss was tentative: slow sweeps of lips over lips, and shy reaches of tongue to tongue. Then, the urgency increased with nips and licks and sucks of thick lips on lips with tongue and teeth. Moans and gasps and whimpers spilled out between you.

Grant raised both hands to palm your head as he tenderly pulled himself away from your lips and rested his forehead on yours. 

“That was…”

His thumb swept the moisture from your lips and this time you captured it between them, sucking it while looking him in the eye. Steve’s cock throbbed even harder. 

“Fuck. I want you…”

Your eyes looked down to see the bulge in his jeans, up to the clench in his jaw and that goddamn pretty face of his, and you bit your lip, causing him to groan. 

You reached down and palmed his hard on as he pumped his thumb in and out of your mouth. He pulled his finger out, groaning as he watched your lips and you whimpered, causing him to silence you with another kiss. 

His hand drifted down your body, exploring until his long fingers reached inside your sweats to find your panties drenched and sticking to the wet folds of your pussy. 

“Fucking soaked, Peach. I-I need this. Need to feel this. N-need to eat this…”

Grant’s raspy baritone and the stutter made your head fall back against the wall as your pussy clenched. His brilliant blue eyes found yours when he felt it. He kissed the side of your mouth and you chased his lips, a fiend for him.

His tongue invaded your mouth again just as his thick fingers pulled your panties to the side and parted you, the calluses on his fingertips feeling just a little like heaven against your wet, sensitive skin.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear. 

“You’re so wet, and soft, Peach. See? I can slide through these fat pussy lips so easy.”

He was skating, rubbing between your folds along your slit, teasing your entrance and your clit. 

Your hands were yanking his shirt free of his jeans so your hands could feel his thick, hard abs, and your nails could scratch his skin. Grant shuddered under your touch.

Steve felt like it was his first time touching a girl, the way his heart was fluttering in his chest. As he felt your perfect little body, he realized that he was aiding in the ruin of himself for anyone else.

He collected your wetness and proceeded to pull his fingers out and push them into his mouth, making you watch as he suckled them, his eyes rolling back in his head. He concentrated to regain thought as he slipped his fingers back in and pinched your clit, then plunged up and down the split of you, finally breaching your entrance. 

Your legs were shaking and your thighs clamped around his hand. You held on to his shoulders as you rolled your hips into the thrusts of his fingers. He was full-out fucking you now, kissing you in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers. 

“So fucking tight, Peach. Tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt.”

Your body bowed into him at his filthy words and he watched your face with rapt attention. You’d given him the key to you. His words.

His fingers pushed deeper inside you and curled, making you moan and quiver. 

“That’s right, Peach. Take my fingers like a good little girl.” 

He whispered it calmly against your ear, not betraying how feral he was on the inside. 

You pressed your lips together as you clenched down at his words.

“You’re so sweet. So cute. So desperate.” 

His fingers reached that bundle of nerves, causing your brain to short circuit. 

“Needy.” 

Grant licked your neck as he dragged his long fingers in and out of your sodden, dripping cunt. You tried to stifle another moan as he curled his fingers inside you. 

“What I need is to hear you, Peach. Been dreaming of you screaming for me for the past three nights.”

“Please!”

You were practically sobbing now, a result of the skill with which Grant was playing your body. His neck was craned as he marked your neck, and he was searching your skin underneath your shirt with his free hand. 

“You're so beautiful Peach, and wet for me. So warm and snug.”

He leaned over again to suckle on your pulse point and then whisper into your ear.

“But you’re gonna struggle to take my long thick cock in this tight little cunt.”

“Fuckkkkkk!”

You erupted into a mind-blowing orgasm, shuddering between Grant and the wall, holding on to him for dear life as your knees gave out. He held you up, gingerly removing his fingers from around you and hugging you to him, his heart gone from his body and now in your possession. 

He never wanted to let you go.

But then you spoke again.

“No one has ever…”

You giggled and looked up into his impossible blue eyes. He smiled down at you. For a split second, you were the happiest you’d ever been.

“No one had ever done that to me as effectively as you, Grant Stevens.”

Steve’s smile fell. 

He felt the power of his betrayal in advance of you finding out who he really was. 

Not only had he lied to you, he wasn’t good enough to be around you, let alone touch you. 

He looked down to see that you were steady on your feet now, and straightened your clothes for you. He felt terrible, knowing what you expected to happen next, if nothing more than intimacy with someone who was honest with you.

He kissed your forehead, then your lips again, chaste this time.

“I’m so sorry, Peach. We can’t do this.”

“What?”

He kissed your forehead again and left your apartment, leaving you standing there wondering what just happened.

—-

When you went to work that night, they said Grant quit. The number you had for him was disconnected. He’d vanished into thin air.

You were a thug, so you powered through the night but you spent all day Sunday in bed wondering what you did wrong. And what he was really about.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, you were grateful to go to Hilton Head and get away with your family. You heard about your cousin’s big adventures in the City with her Mr. Big and crew.

You teased her relentlessly for being a simp, and continued to swear that you were a thug. You were a complete comedian, putting on a show for your family until the moment the man you knew as Grant Stevens stepped into your Aunt and Uncle’s home.

Except his name wasn’t Grant Stevens.

It was Steve Rogers.

And you were a fool.

——-

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Next part

[questionablecuttlefish]

Bi Rep in the New Canon

So....worth pointing out.

Riot has stated that a League champion's sexuality is an inherent part of their character that doesn't change across different skinlines and AUs.

So, given SG Jinx has lines like "Lux makes even boring beautiful", the extremely sapphic Burning Bright video, the album cover, all of suqling's 'totally-not-canon-you-guys' SG comics, etc, we know she likes girls. Specifically Lux.

Lux seems interested in Ezreal in Battle Academia, Star Guardian (bleh) and the V-day skins, mostly ignores him in other skinlines and completely dismisses or doesn't even know him in the main one, and blushes at Sylas in one panel of the Lux comic before that crush comes crashing down permanently, so we know she does like guys. Even if it comes down to 'one het blush per AU'.

Lux is very affectionate with Jinx in Valoran Town, considers her to be her 'best and only friend' just like in Star Guardian, and is depicted in a few promo arts for both the show and for Wild Rift touching Jinx, hand on her waist, Jinx lying head on her lap or cuddling up to her and stealing cookies. They're hecking cute in the Wild Rift trailer and the Chinese New Year follow up too, just saying.

Ekko and Ezreal are dating in the Pulsefire universe. Just read the short story, and if that's not enough for you, the writer outright said after they left riot their intention was for them to be a couple in that universe. So they have the strongest 'bi-canon' going for them.

What I'm saying is that Jinx, Lux, Ekko and Ezreal are all canonically bisexual.

And the best way the Arcane canon could prove this is by, IDK, having Jinx fly to Demacia and kiss a light mage.

And Ekko maybe kiss a cute-but-annoying Piltie explorer.

Arcane gave us CaitVi, JayVik (sorry Christian I don't believe you buddy) AU timebomb, let's get Lightcannon and Ezko 😌🙏 complete the collection.

I don't make the rules.

[fanaticsnail]

Shameless 3/3

Masterlist here. Part 1, Part 2

Word Count: 5,500+

Synopsis: You have a type, one that has been forcefully revealed by your crewmen's incessant nagging. Ushered throughout the halls of the Polar Tang, you finally get to experience the raw, concentrated power of what succumbing to that type truly means.

Themes: Eustass Kid x afab!reader, p in v sex, eating, gushing, writhing, begging. Dom!kid x switch!reader, no gendered terms used, smut, nsfw, mdni, 18+ content warning, swearing, creampie, Platonic!Law x Crew!reader, "sunshine" used as a term of endearment, reader is a brat, Kid is obsessed.

Notes: And it's here! Third and final part to the series that was meant to be a one-shot because it was my first time writing for Eustass Kid. Thank you to @sordidmusings for being a saint and listening to me be very unhinged while I talk about this fic. Art link.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @vespidphoenix @carrotsunshine @cinnbar-bun @i-am-vita @mfreedomstuff @sexc-snail

The grip of Eustass Kid’s right hand never left your hip. Ushering you throughout the halls of the Polar Tang to where he assumed your crew quarters were located. His face held an unreadable emotion you attempted to decipher with your mischievous gaze. 

His lips were knit into a thin line, tugging at the corners into a gruff grimace. His brows lowering their furrow against his forehead with his eyes wild with narrowed pupils. The smaller quiver in his top lip revealed his snarled emotion further to you, a soft rumble igniting within his chest. 

Cheeks tinted pink with ignited resolve and passion, he was glowing with growing vibrant frustration. Too proud to indicate he may be in need of assistance to find your room, you chose to bite your lip to stifle the rise of your smile further as you watched him fumble down the hallway. 

All that giddiness and prior longing for one another, all the passion and grinding against each other’s most sensitive areas, came to an abrupt halt by your captain by calling to you over the shipwide speakers. That lust for one another remained all through the commemorative meal, Kid perpetually holding his eyes on your body as he sunk his teeth into fresh meat. He tore his teeth into the flesh of the steak, all the while picturing what your body tasted like beneath your boiler's uniform. 

Noticing a small stagger in Kid’s steps, halting his strides as the corridor split into a narrow ‘T’ shape. Drawing your eyes up to the metal panel in front of you, you felt the grip of Kid’s arm tighten around your waist. 

You didn’t want to ask him if he needed help, refusing to utter a single word to the broody, aggressive man beside you. In fact, it was fun to watch him get angrier and angrier within his own frustration. You deduced: the angrier he got, the more likely he was going to channel that fury with reaching your joint ecstasy within the arms of one another. 

“You’re really gonna stand there in silence?” he growled in a low rumble, “Not gonna give me any guidance in finding your damn crew cot to fuck you in?” You attempted to stifle your rising smile by clamping your teeth down on your lower lip. 

“Nope,” you popped your lips on the ‘p,’ noticing this seemed to aggravate him further. In one swift movement: he lifted you up with his flesh hand, caging you beneath the metallic forearm of his artificial limb across your chest. He held your body firmly against the steel of the cool wall, bringing his agitated expression closer to your amused grin. 

“Just wanna see me get all frustrated, huh?” he spat, his aggressive agitation showcased within the vibrant hues of his auburn eyes, “Wanna see how far you can bend me before I snap?” 

All you could do was shudder out a whimper of lustful breath beneath the cool metal arm, a smirk drawing up to your lips as you avoided his intense stare by looking down at his exposed pectorals.

In response, he pushed his metal forearm firmer against your chest, the magnetic object caging your shoulders against the wall alongside the top of your breastbone. The discomfort you felt beneath his artificial limb elevated your anticipation and excitement for him more. 

“Answer me,” he growled, shoving you further against the wall, “You had so many words earlier. Where are they now, huh?” You drew your eyes up to his, half-lidded and full of adoration for the frustrated tinkerer-captain. As your softened eyes met with his, he was flabbergasted at your unwithheld adoration for him. 

“You don’t seem like the type to require help,” you whispered, drawing up your hand do brush your fingers against his jaw, “So I won’t help you...” you pressed your chest against his metal arm to test its strength and hissed out a further declaration, “...Unless you ask me, very nicely, to offer you my assistance.”

Kid bore his eyes into yours, his brow furrowing deeper on his forehead as you looked up through half-hooded lashes. Floating your eyes between his, you goaded him with your playful expression: daring him to ask you for aid. After several moments of careful contemplation, he finally spat out his venomous words. 

“Fine,” his eyes darkened, a furious twinkle engaged within his blown pupils. Where you expected him to cave, ask you begrudgingly which direction to be led in, he shocked you by his flesh hand reaching up to your chest, and prying open your boiler suit with a skillful tear in the front of the fabric, “You leave me with no choice but to fuck you in the hallway.” 

You squealed as he skillfully removed your sleeves from your arms with his right hand, forcing his hips to staple yours against the reflective surface behind you. His broad hand drew itself up to cup your left hip, grinding his half-hard cock against your needy core. You sighed blissfully as he began to rut against your body, your eyes fluttering shut against the feeling. 

He tore through the fabric of your top binding, exposing your chest and puckered nipples publicly in a single swipe. You mewled as he pinched, licked and sucked at your exposed chest; your body wriggling and grinding against his core. 

“You truly have no shame, do you?” He growled, his lips finding your jaw as he pressed himself harder against you. You relished in the feeling of his warm lips caressing your skin in open kisses, his saliva dampening your pores with each messy parting of his lips upon you. 

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered through your unrestrained moan in response, opening your eyes to gaze into his own once more. When his eyes met yours, his lust was demonstrated in the soft flutter of his lashes, his pupils dilated into large circles and his painted lips parted in a shocked oval. 

You rocked your hips against his, the tight peak in his patterned pants raking over your rapidly dampening heat. He tore away more of your uniform, revealing more glimpses of your exposed flesh to his needy hands and greedy eyes. As you began to move your lips to expel your desires, a voice called above your expressions of wanton need. 

“Well, I'm ashamed of both of you,” your Captain’s bored and lazy tone spat with a soft grimace, “Couldn't even wait to get into crew quarters, Tinkerers?”

A joint shriek of shock expelled itself from your throats as your eyes snapped over to the darkened silhouette of Trafalgar Law. 

Your captain excused himself from the meal between the main course and dessert, claiming the excuse he needed to retrieve something from his office. What he was truly doing was checking in to see if you were alright with the attention you were receiving from Eustass Kid. He knew you were tough, and that you had a type, but he wanted to ensure the safety of his tinkerer. 

“Captain-!” you began, your voice drowning beneath the surprised grunt of Kid’s exclaim, “-Traffy!” Kid’s body hovered over yours, shielding the exposure of your chest from the eyes of your Captain. You almost pouted out a softened hum of awe at the larger man's valiance, but your attention remained captivated by Law's disapproving expression. 

As you both began to utter your verbalised defenses, you witnessed Captain Law’s smirk grow all the broader: feral and cryptid. Your eyes widened, watching as he raised his hand upwards, his fingers splayed out in hyper focussed concentration. 

“Unfortunately for the both of you, I refuse to allow such lewd acts performed in my hallways - no matter who is performing them,” he uttered in a low growl, prompting a blush to rise against your cheeks. 

Before a further explaination could be uttered in your defense, Law hastily spoke over your rising voice with two key words of his own. 

“Room,” he smirked, eyes darkening as you and Kid both felt at the mercy of your Captain demonstrating his raw power with his devil-fruit ability, “Shambles.”

Your surroundings went dark around you, your body feeling helpless within the trap of Law's displacement. Although you had experienced this method of transportation prior, the disassociation and frazzle of the world around, fading in and out, remained a difficult concept to comprehend and adjust to. 

Switching positions with two flecks of dust within your crew quarters by the will of your Captain, had your body falling unceremoniously atop Kid’s on the metal floor beneath you with a firm thud. A grunt at the contact alongside a huffed breath from your companion prompted a laugh to began simmering within your chest. 

“Well, well, well,” you managed to giggle out through your teetered laughter, “Looks like you didn't have to ask me nicely, after all.”

Kid huffed out a disapproving gruff growl, shifting your body away to take in the full view of your face above him. Although the crew quarters were lit by the hum of electrical lamplight, he strained to make out the outlines of your face in this switched position. 

Before he could adjust to exactly what was happening within the room, he was surprised at the shift of weight above him sliding down his body. As he moved his dizzying head to focus on your actions, he was surprised to hear a jingle of metal and the loosening of his pants. 

He snapped his eyes to witness the swirl of your tongue claiming the chorded strands of his pants within your mouth, skillfully tugging at the belt with your teeth to expose his briefs beneath. He sucked in his shock, hastily propping himself up on his elbows to get a more in depth look at your features. 

“F-Fuck,” he groaned, eyes unable to break his eyes away from watching you take apart his pants, “Y-You’re actually doing it with your teeth.” He whispered, reaching his right hand down to rake his fingers through your hair. You smiled, tugging one final harsh bite at his zippered fly to expel his clothed member beneath the parted split of his pants. 

“I would never mislead you,” you reassured him with a huffed chuckle, watching the small twitch of his rapidly expanding cock. The subtle damp patch of precum against the soft material of his briefs, “I despise those who go back on their word.”

With another small string of curses, Kid released your hair within his palm and lulled his head back on his shoulders as you circled your grip around his clothed shaft. Tugging it firmly beneath the material, his heavy balls began to fall beneath the elastic hem of his leg holes. 

You shifted your hands along his veiny cock. The outline of his perfect, mushroomed tip dipped in a divet within the strain against the material of the cotton fabric. His leg began to twitch as you straddled his thigh and teased the waistband of his briefs with the brush of your unoccupied fingertips. 

Reaching into his pants, you claimed his cock within your palm and attempted to circle your digits around it: the large girth having your fingertips barely brush together in their circumference. Flicking your thumb over the tip had a moan stifled within Kid’s lips. Huffing at the friction, he drew his head up to glance at you through half-hooded lashes. 

Brows knit in focus, your jaw hung ever slightly slack as you focussed on pistoning Kid’s impressive cock within your grip. The look of awe on your features as you exposed his member by flipping his waistband down had Kid’s ego swelling with pride. He smiled as you but back a moan of your own, taking in the full view of his incredibly large cock. 

“It's not going to fit,” you gasped, eyes glazed in a hypotonic, lustful trance. Kid smirked at your comment, panting at the attention you were paying to his sensitive knob and frenulum with your thumb. 

In one swell movement, he hastily flipped your positions and caged you beneath him. Your chest was fully exposed, your uniform hanging limply on your hips as his right hand dove beneath the waist of your undergarments. 

“It'll fit,” he moaned, his lips finding your clavicle bone, containing a perfect ovular circle he bit into earlier, and pressed his lips roughly against it, “Just gotta warm ya’ up first.”

He sought out your heat with his fingers, feeling the arousal he'd already caused earlier by his lips, teeth and grinding hips. His two middle fingers slotted between your walls, feeling the coat of slick over his knuckles as he spread your essence over your needy hole. 

Before he sunk his fingers into your core, he retreated back upwards to your awaiting, quivering clit. As his warm fingers began tracing delicate circles against your aching bud, he claimed your lips beneath his own. 

Your hands shot to his hair, grasping the red strands within your fingertips. Angling your chin up, you needily licked Kid's lips while whining at his ministrations. Everything was too little and too much all at once, your craving for him outweighing the need for him to make you ready to take his impressive size. 

Moans were caught within his painted lips, his own empathetic moans at your joy spread from his mouth into yours. As he swirled his digits expertly around your clit, he forced his tongue within your mouth to brush against yours. Sliding the muscle throughout your mouth, you arched your back as he continued using his hands and lips to bring you pleasure. 

Seeking out his cock, your hand grasped at every surface of his large muscles and skin on your journey downwards. Just before you managed to wrap your hand around the swollen head of his cock again, Eustass Kid’s metal hand shot down and claimed your wrist within his iron grip and pinned both hands above your head. 

Breaking his lips from yours, his fiendish smile grew wide. His teeth playfully bit your bottom lip as a wordless reprimand for your actions. You whined, your hands attempting to wriggle free from his iron grip to seek out his cock once more. 

“Not gonna let you touch me ‘til I make you cum at least once,” he laughed at you, slowly rolling circles around your needy bud. You arched your back and mewled for him as he raked his fingers down to your hole, then back up to your clit in skillful motions. 

“I let you take the lead while your Captain’s stupid devil fruit power made me dizzy,” he slunk down your torso, ripping your legs out of your pants with one swift swipe with his metal hand, “But now that my head's all clear, I'm gonna make you cum so fucking hard, Sunshine.”

You were now completely exposed to him, your naked body lying vulnerable beneath his almost fully-clothed body. Only his cock was exposed to you; the rest of his larger form remained shrouded by his cloak, buckled holsters and pants. 

“P-please,” you whined for him, panting as he pinned your writhing hips to the floor beneath his forearm. He chuckled, hooking your knees over his shoulders and bringing your glistening core up to his face after releasing your hands from his metal arm.  

“Quit ya’ squirming,” he growled, leaning his face down against your needy heat, “I know how you feel about goin’ back on your word.” He tested your reactions with a small flick of his tongue against your clit, laughing when you arch your back in reaction, “Wouldn't want you to despise me, now, do I?”

“Captain,” you gasped, feeling his breath cooling against your sticky walls as he hovered his lips over your oozing essence. He chuckled further, forcing your legs apart as he took in the sight of your arousal. His jaw shuddered at the sight, eyelashes fluttering as his smile rose up on his face. 

“I would never mislead you,” he mocked your earlier sentiment, prompting you to scowl at his taunting expression. Just as soon as your scowl appeared, it fled just as hastily from your face as he dove head-first into your heat. 

Kid's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he sampled your sweet essence, rolling his tongue over your aching clit in slow, deliberate circles. You bit your lip to stifle your keening mewls, prompting Kid to groan into your glistening sex. 

“So cute,” he commented, bobbing his head as he swiped his tongue up and down, spreading your juices around your entrance and clit, “So fuckin’ cute.” 

Nodding against your heat, he became drunk with lust as you attempted to grind further against his face. He used his nose to add pressure to your clit as he dipped his tongue into your neglected entrance. Swirling his tongue, he lapped at your juices straight from the source, with grunts of praise growling from his messy lips coated in your sweet nectar. 

The coil in your stomach bound itself tight within the pit of your abdomen. You huffed into your wrist, clamping your eyes tightly shut as you had no choice but to take the tongue lashing Kid was forcing into your body. 

Your thighs began to shake as you strained against his extremely large hands, once again becoming aware of how big he was. At the mercy of the man above you, you began gushing into his mouth as the first wave of your erupting orgasm coursed through you.

“O-Oh fuck yes, that's it,” Kid's muffled voice praised you between your legs, “Cum on my face. C’mon, wanna feel it.”

“F-Fuck, Captain,” you cried out for him, tears beginning to well from the intensity in which you rode through the waves of your encumbering high. 

Attempting to writhe and wriggle out of his grip, he held you firmly in place and bullied your cunt with his face further. He dove in deeper, torturing your core with his tongue and lips as he continued to messily lap at your juices. 

“Nuh uh,” he chastised you, prompting you to sob at the overstimulation, “You're gonna take it. Go on, Sunshine. Cum for me again,” he chuckled into your tingling entrance when you screamed at the feeling of his tongue needily and aggressively lapping at you, “I know you can.”

Panic wrote itself on your face, you're cheeks running hot as your blood turned cold. Feeling the firm press of his hands against your hips, you truly felt helpless beneath the hulking figure of Eustass Kid.  He was going to hold you down and make you cum again, and you were going to have to take it. 

“This is whatcha get for being a brat earlier,” Kid leant his face away as he messily spat against your hole. Diving down immediately after, he lapped at your oversensitive heat and held your body completely at his mercy, “This is what me snapping looks like, Sunshine. Fucking take it.”

You whimpered, reaching your hands down and grabbing fistfuls of his hair within your hands. Attempting to tug his face away from you, he doubled down his efforts and elevated your hips with his strong and firm grip. He thrust your body backwards and forwards, grinding your sensitive cunt against his face as you felt him chase another of your intense highs. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh F-fuck,” you screamed, gushing your juices over his chin as another gushing orgasm snuck up on you. This was not as intense as the first one prior, but it stole the breath from your lungs and took the wind out of your sails. 

“There ya’ go,” he chuckled, grinding your hips against his face, “Fuck yes, cum in my face again.” 

He slowed down the intensity of his grinding, remaining in tempo of the rhythmic twitches of your orgasm beckoning him in with hypnotic pulses. Floating back down from your high, you collapsed onto the cool ground beneath you. 

You felt him come away from your body, fully expecting the larger man to immediately pummel his large cock into you and wincing in anticipation. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you looked down to notice Kid had raisen to his knees and removed his weighty cloak and straps from his torso. 

He smirked down at you, watching as you took in his body with your fucked-out, glazed-over expression. He tugged at the waistband of his underwear, moving the rest of his clothes down over his hips to free his balls and his legs. 

“Waitin’ ‘til you catch your breath,” Kid whispered affectionately while casting his boots, socks and pants aside, “I'm cruel, but I'm not that cruel.” 

In truth, Kid felt the approach of a premature untouched orgasm swelling in his abdomen the moment your cunt pressed against his face. It had been so long since he had taken a lover, especially one as enthusiastic as you were at the very notion of a sliver of his attention. 

You teased him earlier in the day with your unbridled lust, intrigued him with your devotion to your tinkering assignment, and had him completely smitten with your complete and utter shamelessness.

He was so completely riled up, he refused to be embarrassed by how quickly he was going to cum from the moment your cunt touched his twitching, engorged cock. He wanted to take his time, enjoy your company for as long as you were willing to share it with him. 

As your heartbeat slowed to a more forgiving pace, you beckoned him with your coaxing hands and pleading eyes. Smiling down at you, he hovered over your face and pressed needy and passionate kisses against your jaw with his lips and tongue. 

His red, fat tongue slithered against your chin, prompting you to turn your head and claim the organ into your parted lips. As soon as your mouth brushed with his, you felt the tip of his cock tap against your over prepared and glistening hole. You moaned against his lips as his tip began to split you apart, your walls moving in a wide stretch to accommodate his impressive girth. 

“I-It’s too big,” you winced against his lips, “Too big!” You cried out as he soothed you by pressing gentle kisses against your cheeks, lips, temple, chin and jaw. 

“Y-You can t-take it,” he huffed, wincing at how tight your cunt was choking him, strangling him with your smaller core, “Just-... hah, fuck-... Just relax around it. You can do that for me, can't you? Relax and let me i-in.” His shiny tip pushed deeper into your cunt, his shaft twitching as he felt your fluttering walls adjust to accommodate him. 

You winced your brows up, breathing deeply as he caged your smaller body beneath him. Huffing out several strangled breaths, he fully slotted his shaft into you. Tufts of his red pubic hair ground coarsely against your swollen clit, a cry spilling from your lips the welcome he received as his cock encased itself within your warm, puffy sheath. 

“Fuck, you're so-... ngmmh-... so fucking tight,” he bit your shoulder as he buried his head within the crook of your neck. At every quiver your glistening core fluttered around him, he felt his orgasm rapidly approaching. 

“You're so fucking big,” you praised him with a hushed, needy whisper; mewling as he began to make shallow movements, pistoning his cock while remaining deep within your cunt. 

You felt yourself relax around him, the rocking of his hips enabled you to adjust quickly to his length and girth. You circled your arms around his shoulders, cradling his head against your shoulder as you felt him begin to pant. A flash of lightning hit your body as your lust hit you with its stricken intensity. 

“C'mon, big boy,” you cooed down at him with new motivation, “I know you can fuck me harder than that.” Kid snapped his head up, his eyes feral as he gawked at you. 

“You want me to fuck you harder?” Kid asked, a pink flush tinting his face as deep a scarlet as his vibrant hair. You laughed, your abdomen constricting his cock within you as you did. 

“Did I stutter?” You teased him, clawing at his shoulders before capturing his cheeks within the heels of your palms, “Harder.” Eustass Kid, who was not accustomed to be on the receiving end of orders, immediately began slamming his hips against yours in rough claps. You shrieked in joy, gyrating to match his quickening pace. 

The wet slaps of your cunt taking Kid's cock reverberated with your mutual moans throughout the crew quarters. You huffed out strangled pants as you ground your hips upwards to meet with his heavy-handed thrusts. His biceps twitched with every hard thrust against you, leaning up on his flesh and metal arms to get a glimpse of his cock disappearing within your gummy walls.

Cocking your head to the side, you noticed his brows were knit in focus, his mind still holding his body back from being too rough with you. You craved him letting go, the craving prompting you to hook your legs over his hips and lock your ankles together behind his lower back.  

“Harder,” you coax him, “Go harder, Captain. I can't take it.” As a gesture, you tug at his shoulders and cradle his body against you. He fell against you, his arms caging you once again beneath him. 

“I'm gonna break your fucking hips if I fuck you any harder,” he huffed against your cheek. He continued his rough pace, the lewd slap of his balls on your puckered ass causing you to cry out for him. 

“I serve on a ship full of doctors,” you prompt him, pressing open kisses against his collar and rocking your hips to his rhythm, “I can take it. C'mon, Kid. Fuck me like you want to.”

Kid halted his movements, his eyes immediately snapping up to meet with your own. He was immediately challenged by your utter audaciousness, searching your eyes for any hesitation for him to simply take what he wanted from your body. 

“Like I want to?” His growl sent a shudder from youd chest down to your cunt, stil containing his entire length, “You want me to show you how I want to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, biting and nipping at his cheek, jaw and neck as a further coaxing for him to propel himself harder, firmer and deeper against you. 

He broke your arms away from his shoulders, his metal and flesh hands immediately moving to the backs of your thighs and pressing them firmly up into your stomach. You mewled in shock, feeling the new depth his cock reached at this angle hitting and brushing against more of your core you never thought possible. 

“You want me to fuck you with my full strength? Feel me so fucking deep in your stomach it borders on painful?” He growled, pressing his stomach against your thighs as he allowed his full weight to sink down into you, “You want your bones to fall on the brink of shattering as I fuck into you, using you for my own personal pleasure?” 

“Yes,” you confirmed a little louder than before, following his movement with the rapid bounce of your hips in rhythm with his rough thrusts. You bit back a cry as he picked up his pace, your lower abdomen feeling the pinch of his tip kissing your cervix. 

He hastily drew down his hands, prompting you to hook your arms behind your knees to keep you fully exposed to his rough thrusts. As you held your legs back, he forced his right hand onto the pit of your stomach, pushing on the tip of his angular cock brushing against the spongy curvature of your G-spot. 

“Feel that? That's-... fuck, hhah-... how fucking deep I am,” he panted, his thrusts becoming more erratic. You cried out muted sobs in desperation for him, feeling the approach of your third orgasm rapidly stampeding towards you. 

“Fuck you like I want to, Sunshine?” He growled, repeating your taunt back to you. His speed continuing to pick up as heavy thrusts as he pressed your thighs further into your chest, “Fuck you rough and deep enough to split you apart with my cock? Like I fucking want to?”

“Yes!” you cried out in confirmation, feeling the tight call of your orgasm begin to shake at your toes to your thighs, warmth spreading in your chest with the ignition of passionate convulsions. He groaned for you, panting as he felt the first twitches of his own approach pulsate through the base of his shaft, his balls sucked into the pit of his stomach and knob twitching deep within you. 

“Oh, fuck!” he barked, his eyes rolling back into his skull as he continued to pummel, bully, and bruise your cunt with his impressive, firm cock. He felt the first wave of your pussy beckoning him with your orgasm, his mind no longer his own as he gave into his primal urge to continue claiming you. 

“Fuck, Captain. I'm g-gonna-... f-fuck-... I'm gonna cum-,” you screamed, caged beneath his body as your walls began wringing circular pulses over his cock. Kid began to panic, overcome with the feeling of your pussy milking his shaft. 

“I c-can’t pull out, I can't pull out!” He begged and pleaded as his knob began to leak with the first spurts of unrestrained precum, “Too fucking good!”

“Cum in me, I need you!” you screamed in your haze, drunk on the feeling of this larger man splitting you open with his desperation. You bounced your cunt against him, matching the pace he set while riding through your all encumbering orgasm. 

“F-Fuck!” he roared, ribbons of white release splashing against your cervix and trickling down your thighs with your own juices gushing against him. Your beckoning thumps continued wringing Kid's cock with each pulse in unified bliss. 

Growls of strangled moans fled from Kid's lips as he claimed your mouth within his, deepening the angle he was slamming his hips down against your core and slowing his erratic pace. 

He released your thighs from his grip, choosing to thread his arms around your shoulders and elevate you to a sitting position, his cock still deeply sheathed within you. Rocking back onto his heels and calves, he continued pressing open and lustful kisses against your lips as the last few, teetered, aftershocks of his orgasm spent itself within you. 

Holding the back of your neck, he continued cradling you against himself. His kisses turned soft, sweet and almost loving, his lip paint now marking nearly all of your body with the scarlet hue. The subtle tang of your juices remained on his tongue as you welcomed more of him against your lips. 

As you motioned to break away from his lips to catch your breath, he needily held your neck firmly in place, continuing to pant through his kisses planted against your lips. He rotated his head, his lips entangling themselves sloppily against yours as you both finally fell back down to the harsh reality around you. 

“More,” he whimpered against you, still under the prior hypnotic spell your words and actions cast on him, “Need more.”

Smiling, you pressed several peppered kisses against his lips and face. He hummed through his nose, whining at how affectionate you were remaining to be after taking his aggravated and almost assaulting pace with his cock still inside you. You tested his still firm cock, rocking yourself on his lap which caused a choked whimper to flee from his throat. 

“How long are you staying with us, Captain?” you managed to ask him as soon as you broke away from his desperate lips. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands moving down to circle around your shoulders and waist. 

“Couple more days,” he confessed in a whisper, his eyes glancing down at where your bodies remained still as one, “Then we leave to go on our separate ways again.” 

You both clamped your eyes shut, feeling your bodies unified together as his cock began to soften within your walls. You raised your hands to cradle his cheeks, pressing a few sweet kisses against his lips as he hung his head back within your arms. 

“And after a few days?” you whispered your question, pressing your forehead against his once more with your eyes remaining shut to conceal your emotions from him, “Then what?” 

You felt Kid's right thumb begin tracing circles against your hip, his arms sliding down to claim both sides of your body beneath his broad hands. 

“Then, Sunshine," he scoffed, playfully licking your chin with the sharpened tip of his tongue, "Every time I meet with your captain and your crew…” he teased you, tilting your face with a subtle jab of his chin to force your eyes to open, as he uttered his final confession to you. 

“... we're gonna make it everyone's problem.”

As soon as you met with his rust-colored eyes, you were once again consumed with lust for him. His enchanting smile, his scarred cheeks, his smudged face paint, his wicked grin: all bewitched you to the point where you would agree to everything he could ever pose to you.

"I'm looking forward to being shameless and embarrassing with my open adoration and lust for you, Captain," you confessed in a whispered breath. He laughed at you smoothing over your hair with his hand, smiling as he drew his face all the closer to yours.

"I'm looking forward to being the object of your shameless fucking lust, Sunshine," he uttered before he claimed your lips beneath his once more in a lengthy, sultry kiss, "Let's get cleaned up, go a couple more times," you squeaked in joy at the notion, prompting a huff of laughter to expel from Kid, "Then I'll carry you up there to enjoy dessert, just like I promised."

[thethingsnerd]

I’ve been seeing some confusion over what Time meant in this panel

A lot of people with (very good otherwise!) analysis posts seem to be writing it off as cryptic- just another Old Man Mystery.

HOWEVER this is actually fairly straightforward, if flowery, so let me explain.

Perception has its merit: in the immediate preceding panel, this one

Wild is not only telling Time to believe in Twilight because the rancher is strong etc, he’s telling Time to consider Twilight’s feelings. Twilight isn’t dumb, there are several panels indicating that he’s getting fed up with, as Wild put it earlier, nothing but worried glances. This is the perception Time is talking about. It does matter to him that all the fuss is probably making Twilight feel untrusted.

Side note: I too have been on the other side of “death scare” and being treated like a fragile baby bird after I was back on my feet was worse than the actual scary parts. Personally.

But circumstances will take priority: back on track, with this statement, Time is basically reserving the right to be protective anyway.

Exaggeration, but the fact of their circumstances is that they are in an unknown dungeon, where any kind of boss monster or trap could be waiting for them, and the shadow is always a threat to consider. The chain is walled in with no way but forward, and while Twi is on his feet, he’s not 100% yet. No matter what else, the primary consideration is survival.

TL;DR Time is saying, “While I appreciate that Twilight’s feelings are important, his safety is even more important.”

Then he turns away dramatically. Because Time. Hope this helps someone!