#this is so dumb and now i want to finish it

[cakepoppresent]

I'm a Grown Ass Woman

Malcolm is veryyyyyyyyyy demanding. It's very much his way or no way

Transcript under the cut!~

[Luna]: Should we go back home for Winterfest? It's been a while

[Malcolm]: Go back and do what? Spend the rest of the year with Dad? Don’t be dumb

[Luna]: It was just a suggestion you fucking bitch.

[Malcolm]: We haven’t been back in years why go back now?

[Benji]: That sounds like fun. We can all go back. My dad has been bothering me to meet up with him anyways

[Luna]: Stop being such a fucking downer. We don’t even have to go back home...we can stay in town or something. Rent a house I don’t know but lets just go back

[Malcolm]: Why the hell are you so interested. What’s back home for us anyways

[Luna]: Benji, sweetie can you get some beers for Malcolm and some wine for me please?

[Benji]...okay. Malcolm...behave yourself

[Malcolm]: Shut the hell up! Luna. What’s the issue?

[Luna]: Malcolm. I’m going to say something and I need you to not react. Let me finish speaking

[Malcolm]: The way you’re starting this conversation is already pissing me off.

[Luna]: I didn’t even say anything!

[Malcolm]: I swear to god Luna this better not be about Andre. I swear to fucking god

[Malcolm]: We can dead this conversation right now. Forget all about Andre and going back home and not piss me off

[Luna]: Too bad.

[Malcolm]: Luna what the fuck

[Luna]: Listen, Malcolm. I love you and that won’t ever change but I also miss Andre. I worry about him, he’s not doing okay...how can I just ignore him

[Malcolm]: Easy. Just forget that he exists, follow his example and never bring him up again

[Luna] I don’t think I can do that Malcolm.

[Malcolm]: Omg Luna why are you acting so dumb? Andre never cared about us just leave him alone!!

[Luna]: Watch how you fucking speak to me. This isn’t me asking you for permission, this is me telling you I’m going to reach out to Andre and figure out what happened.

[Malcolm]: Jesus Luna. Why can’t you just drop it. Who cares about Andre?!

[Luna]: You aren’t fucking listening! I care about Andre! I do! Im worried Malcolm what if something went wrong. What if Dad made him leave!

[Malcolm]: That’s even MORE of a reason to leave him alone! Dad is scary! You’re being so fucking stupid!

[Luna]: You know what? I'm leaving, I don’t have to sit here and let your bum ass talk to me like this.

[Malcolm]: Fine! Then leave!! Since you don’t wanna listen to my fucking advice

[Luna]: I'm a grown-ass woman and don’t need my brother telling me what I can and can’t do. I’m going to see Andre and you can mop all you want about it

[Malcolm]: Is that fucking right? Weren’t you the one who said it would always just be us? You already breaking promises by reaching out to Andre. You’re a liar!

[Benji]: Please let’s just calm down so we can figure something out. Malcolm you know that's not true

[Malcolm]: It IS true! Look she wants to leave right now! So let her leave!

[Luna]: I’m saying it again since you aren’t fucking listening. I love you and would never put Andre above you, but he’s suffering out there and we don’t know why and I can’t just leave him. He’s my brother too...

[Malcolm]: I don’t wanna hear it!

[Luna]: Fine. I said my peace. Call me when you stop acting like a damn child

[Malcolm]: Whatever! Don’t call me when this all blows up in your damn face!

[Luna]: Whatever you big ass baby.

[Benji]: Lun-

*Door open and slams shut*

[Benji]:...fuck..

[sinful-lanterns]

AAHH i finally finished the event last night, cutting it close to the event end I know, and just gods that.... that was so fun, though did hurt my brain a little.......

So now time to be horny about it! Like fuck, Moore! Gods she's so pretty, and the cold tone she took while threatening people just.... my thighs were clenched. And just... gods I want her to call me a good girl and pull me into her lap. I want her to take that mean tone whenever I start acting bratty when she warns me not to be bad.

And just imagine the SMAU just Moore showing up to take her seat, maybe she'd have Rise as her other baby. And just sit back with her legs spread wide so that Reader and Rise can both sit in her lap. Her toy collection is probably pretty large, and fine tuned to a ridiculous degree. Moore just pushes a vibrater against your pussy and its almost perfectly set to have to crying for release in seconds, but then programmed so that right at the very second before you cum it turns off, without fail, and its the closest edge imaginable.

Just all the other Mommys and Babys watchung with rapt attention as Moore has both Reader and Rise screaming in her lap. Both clinging to her for dear life, both sobbing uncontrollably when the toys turn off at the edge again.

Maybe she says that she'll let them cum after they make her cum, and both Reader and Rise are tripping over eachother to get their heads buried between Moore's legs. Shaking and whining with need, all while their Mommy just runs her fingers through their hair and coos down at them.

Mommy Moore loving her little dolls dumb and needy, maybe making them wear vibrating plugs so that she can turn their brains to mush whenever they start thinking a little too much for Mommy's liking.

~🐁

MOMMY MOORE 🩷🩷💗💗💘💘💖💖💕💕

After playing through the event all I could think of was burying my face in her plush thighs (especially after that one scene of her in just a bath towel) and letting her use my mouth to get off while she pets my head and calls me a good girl 😖😖

YES MOORE. READER AND RISE ARE BOTH YOUR GOOD GIRLS! Just the image of both you and Rise tripping over each other to gain just a speck of Moore’s attention is making me feral. Moore has more than enough love to go around! No need to be so hasty you two…

Ough…imagine shower sex with both Moore and Rise. She probably has one of those super large glass showers, so both you and Rise could fit inside with her. She also brings along some waterproof, silicone toys to stuff inside you while she gently commands Rise to rub circles to your clit.

I certainly would not mind sharing a shower with these women in STEM <33

[ghostgirl-22]

Do you think patrick ever put on a queer/gay movie as a subtle way to get art out of his shell, like "yeah dude ive wanted to watch this movie for ages" and its okay its chill, look how hot they are, look how happy they are

"Is kissing boys different to kissing girls?"

Oh he definitely did… I’m sorry this is so long nonnie!!!

CW: 18+ NSFW | period typical internalized homophobia

—-

Patrick��s lying in Arts bed with his headphones on going through his catalogue of dvds trying to figure out what B movie they can watch and make fun of while they get high. The whole time Art is using his back as a writing surface to finish his math homework.

Patrick pulls his headphones off and drops them on the ground. “It’s Friday. Do you have to do that now?”

“It’s Friday night, we have the tournament Saturday and Sunday so when exactly?” Art says distractedly, erasing.

“On the bus like I do.” Patrick smiles and turns to look at him. Art pushes his shoulder back down. Patrick shrugs and focuses back on his dvds.

“Stay still.” Art demands.

“Forgive me if I’m just trying to get you to have a little fun in our last few months at Mark Reballato Tennis Academy.”

“You know I do actually plan to graduate, right?” Art says dryly.

“So you can go to Stanford?” Patrick says wrinkling his nose in irritation.

Art puts his notebook down on Patrick’s back. “You know Tashi’s gonna be there right?”

Patrick shrugs. “So, just two overtalented people wasting time…”

“Aww so you’re calling me talented?” Art teases.

“You are,” Patrick says. “When you don’t think too much, which Stanford should help you with. I’m sure they don’t over think anything there.”

“Whatever man,” Art sighs. If anything it’ll help my tennis. I think you’re just scared I might steal her away.”

“Not even a little bit, but speaking of her… do you remember how you let me put my tongue in your mouth?” Patrick smirks.

Art goes all quiet like he’s doing homework again but Patrick doesn’t hear the pencil scratching paper.

“You always bring it up like you think I want you or something.”

“You wanted something, I felt it,” Patrick says pushing himself up as Art grabs the notebook off him before it falls.

“Come on man, don’t be gross, that was for her.”

“How is that gross?” Patrick asks, mildly amused, mildly irritated.

“You know what I mean,” Art says. “‘m not gay.”

“You know there’s nothing wrong with it right? Not to mention I’ve seen you before…touched you before… and…I mean remember what we did after she left? Didn’t I make you feel better?”

“We don’t always have to talk about it.”

“We don’t never have to talk about it either.” Patrick counters.

Art takes a deep breath and rests his head against the wall trying to find a way to change the subject. “Dude, if you’re gay just let me have another shot with her.” Is what he comes up with, dumb pretty smirk on his lips.

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Yeah whatever, fine I’m gay…actually that reminds me of this movie you can gayly watch with your gay best friend.”

“I’m just joking. You don’t have to—“

“Well I’m not joking, come on, put this away, loser,” Patrick grabs his notebook and stuffs the papers inside.

“Okay Jesus, Patrick don’t wrinkle it all up.”

“I’m not, chill out. Get the smoke detector.”

Art sighs and climbs off the bed. He steps on Patrick’s bed and reaches up to disconnect the detector from its place on the ceiling. He puts it in the bathroom. Then he shoves a towel beneath the crack in the door.

All the while Patrick’s combing through his dvd case for one random movie he borrowed from Netflix at the start of the year and he’d forgotten to mail it back so they charged him. (That’s sadly how he ended up with a lot of his dvd collection.) He’d watched it once by himself because he thought the main guys were hot and he wanted to jerk off in peace without Art voicing confusion at the idea of him jerking it for a man.

But it had been surprisingly deep for one of those campy queer movies. And of course it was about a guy in love with his roommate which… even for Art’s ability to delude himself wouldn’t be subtle at all.

“What’s this?” Art asks.

“The movie we’re gonna watch. This guy is a male hooker but he ends up getting hired by this old guy who mostly just wants his company.”

Art frowns.

“Come on, relax. You can be straight and watch it. Movies don’t turn people gay and you’re not gay…so what’s the big deal?”

Art looks like he wants to argue but decides it’ll just be easier to surrender. Patrick rolls the joint while Art puts it in the dvd player.

It’s not all his fault. Art was raised with apple pie and Americana. He’s a J Crew catalogue wearing, red blooded New England boy. His family is pretty liberal but in the way that they support all of it as long as it remains out there faceless and unknown… far away from their life and their home. Art’s expected to play a sport, go to an ivy, marry a beautiful girl and likely start a career in politics if tennis doesnt pay off. So this idea that life could ever deviate from that makes him glitch out.

All the tension they have between them is so much easier to just bury. Like none of it matters. It’s not supposed to change the trajectory of his cookie cutter life anyway.

Art sits on his bed next to Patrick they’re both leaning against the wall Patricks feet dangling over the mattress, Art with his legs crossed. Patrick lights up the joint and hands it to him.

—-

They’re pretty baked halfway through and Arts fidgety. It’s at a scene where the main character is touching himself watching his roommate in the shower. “He’s hot right?” Patrick asks.

Art takes a breath. “Dude.”

“Yeah I know…you’re not gay.” Patrick smirks, but even in the dim glow of the tv he can see the way Art’s already starting to show in his boxers.

The third roommate catches the main character watching and wants to suck him off. Then while third roommate is sucking him he starts fantasizing about all three of them hooking up, kissing sloppy on the bed.

“Is this porn?” Art whispers. “Are we really watching gay porn?”

“No I wish… unfortunately they don’t show you that much but imagine if me and you and Tashi were roommates.You watching her shower… while I…”

Art makes a strangled noise and Patrick rubs his own cock, smiling to himself. Art’s just getting there but Patrick’s been hard for the last 30 minutes.

“Patrick,” Art whispers. He’s starting to touch himself over his boxers.

“Give me the joint,” Patrick says, softly. It’s their third one. “If you drop it on the bed again we’ll both be in trouble.”

Art hands it over and Patrick puts it out in the ashtray on the nightstand. He moves closer to Art reaching over to help him. Art leans back, letting Patrick take over. Patrick reaches into his boxers. “Mm Patrick… have you seen her naked?” Art asks.

“No,” Patrick whispers. “Just her underwear. But…I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“I feel like I can still taste her lips.” He moans while Patrick plays with him. Patrick can’t help but ease his other hand into his own pants. “I wanna…ah… I wanna… see her all soaped up wet and…” Art continues.

“And…?” Patrick breathes.

“Fuck… can you… can we…do what we did after…”

Patrick smiles and nods even though Art likely can’t see him. He gets on his knees and Art scoots towards the edge of the bed. Patrick takes Art’s boxers down and starts sucking him off. touching himself the whole time.

“Mm fuck,” Art breathes.

He barely lasts 2 minutes before he’s filling Patrick’s mouth with so much jizz. Patrick swallows it down, while listening to Art moaning for him. All the hair on his arms standing up. He rests his head against Art’s thigh making quick work of himself, using part of the sheet to keep it from getting all over the floor.

Patrick settles where he is on the floor, breathless when he’s done. Looking up at the television like it was fucking nothing even though his heart is still racing.

Main character has moved so far away from the threesome fantasy. He’s now angsty and worried about his best friend who’s apparently being pursued by someone else. Some other more wholesome gay man. Patrick ponders rewinding but when he looks up at Art, he’s lying back on the bed, hand casually on the waistband of his boxers, tapping his bare feet on the floor just watching.

Patrick rubs Arts leg idly.

“Who’s this loser?” Art asks of the more wholesome gay man.

Patrick laughs. It’s exactly what he thought on his first watch through.

They end up watching the rest of the film. Again, it’s surprisingly more emotional than the premise (male hooker wants to fuck his roommates). Main character ends up learning to be more open about his feelings in his time chatting with the elder gay client. And the emotional part is hearing the elder gay man talk about what he went through to fall in love with his partner when it was much more taboo and unacceptable. And how even though they meet late in life they still lived such a full and happy life (if too short) before his partner passed. And main character’s roommate even gives him a chance and they go out on a date.

Art’s rubbing his eyes when it’s over.

Patrick gets back on the bed next to him. “That was nice right?”

Art’s clearly trying to hide his feelings so he just nods and when he feels okay to use his voice he says. “Seems kinda deep for you.”

“Well I can be deep,” Patrick smirks. He curls his fingers into Art’s hair. “I mean it’s cool right? They were happy.”

”I always wonder where they imagine movies like this to happen? San Francisco probably.” Art laughs, lightly. He looks away from Patrick and Patrick puts his hand back by his side.

“Well I think it could happen anywhere but good thing you're going to California soon.” Patrick says, just as light.

Art looks at him again and then looks at his lap. “I mean it wasn’t just her that made me feel…” he murmurs.

“Me too,” Patrick says.

“So I don’t know…I mean I’m not gay but…but maybe I’m something else…”

“I definitely am.”

Art sighs. “You make me something else.”

“Is that so bad?” Patrick asks.

Art rubs his hands on his thighs and then leans in and gives Patrick a kiss.

(Had to google if Netflix existed in 2006 😭😭 it did but they mailed dvds. Also I made Patrick lie. Movies definitely make you gay. Look what Challengers has done to me!!)

[alleiradayne]

I haven't said much personally about Veilguard besides sharing my Rook and a few other silly things, but I do have a couple thoughts now that I'm so very far into my playthrough (halfway at about 50 hours).

I know the music hasn't hit like some hoped it would. I agree that it is not as good as Inquisition. That's still my favorite OST of the series. I understand BioWare wanted a new composer for the next game because each game has had a different composer. But given how very connected Inquisition and Veilguard are, I disagree with that premise and thought they should have stuck with Morris, and not only for that reason. He's a fucking musical genius.

All that said, I do enjoy Zimmer's and Balfe's work on this OST. It's not bad. I was shittalking the main theme for weeks after it came out but when you mash it up with the actual opening of the game, it fits. And I like all the softer versions of it, the less complicated takes with less instrumentation. And there are other tracks that call back to Inquisition. No, I'm not referring to the cameos where Morris's actual tracks were used. I'm talking about Zimmer/Balfe's new content where they threaded callbacks to Inquisition. Once I finish the game, I'm going to do a much deeper analysis of the Veilguard OST, but for now, I'm enjoying it as I play the game (I don't want to listen to the OST before I finish the game itself).

A couple other thoughts in shorter form:

The combat is fun. Compared to previous games, it's dynamic enough that, while there are patterns, you still have to be on your toes. Yes there's the rock, paper, scissors of get rid of armor, get rid of barrier, then spam left click/spells. But you know what, compared to the previous games, I'm enjoying that. It's a nice change of pace. I'm also playing a Mourn Watch Death Mage, so there's some nice flavor there.

Skin texture sucks. It's too smooth. It gives everyone a cartoonist look. I hate it.

Hair is fucking gorgeous. I just wish there were more styles I liked.

The story and quests are fantastic.

I find the dialogue to be a fun balance between seriousness, camp, and exposition.

Now on to my biggest fucking complaint about the game so far and given what I've read (without spoiling anything), I'm ultimately going to be disappointed in the long-run by the romances. My mage committed to Emmrich and I love him. He's wonderful. Read on for some spoilery-ish facets of his romance.

SPOILERS

He's an artist. Both with his magic and his words. He's sophisticated and overly romantic in such a respectful way. Rook's interest in him takes him by surprise because I believe canonically there's an age gap (that I headcanon away), but it's adorable. Plus, graveyard dates. He's very Gomez Addams but without all the public displays of affection (which I also headcanon away because fuck that noise).

END SPOILERS

My last point in the spoilers section about Emmrich's romance is my biggest complaint of the game. There's very little actual romance! And it's because you can't roll up to your companions at any given time and open a dialogue with them. There's no open conversation option. You only get to talk to them if they have a time-sensitive marker or a quest marker on their icon on the map. No free smooches on the ramparts!

And the romance moments we do get are so few and far between in a game that is absolutely massive, not in terms of map size this time, but in terms of content. There is so much good content (as opposed to the shit side quests of collecting 10 bear asses in the Hinterlands of Inquisition). The side quests all feel directly tied to the area's story so they all feel worth doing. We're never doing dumb shit like drawing constellations in the sky or finding shards through tranquil mage skulls (don't ever forget that they used the skulls of mages forced into tranquility specifically for this purpose).

Now I'm not through the whole game yet, but I'm hearing and seeing that there's next to no nudity. Given that on top of the lack of open convos and sparse romantic content, I'm bummed. I still love Emmrich, and I know I'll enjoy the others when I do get to them (because I plan on it). But damn. I was hoping for Desk Scene (iykyk) levels of spice outta this crew.

That's it. Halfway through the game and this is how I feel so far. I'm thoroughly enjoying the game and will continue to binge it. I have Rooks planned for the rest of the companions, too. Femme elf rogue crow to romance Davrin, femme qunari warrior lords of fortune to romance Harding, femme human shadow dragon rogue to romance Neve, femme elf warrior veil jumper to romance Bellara, masc elf mage grey warden to romance Lucanis.

I'd like to see your thoughts!

[thetransintransformers]

Tryst (18+)

Cycmags Softcore basically

Stuck in the brig.

Servos chained above his head.

Listening to the sounds of Galvatron ranting and raving about his eventual demise.

No, not quite the situation Ultra Magnus wanted to find himself in.

How he allowed himself to be caught like this was still a mystery. The schematics he ran on how he would be getting in and out of the Decepticon base, the time he spent knowing exactly how every process within his mission was going to take, and hell, it’s not like he was dealing with much competition. 

As powerful as Galvatron was, he was a lunatic now, more obsessed with beating down his subordinates than actually getting anything for his cause done. Much like the real Megatron but, the distinction was still there. Then there were the sweeps: intimidating enough to look at but ultimately, so . . .  well Ultra Magnus hesitated on the word, how callous it sounded, but they were so DUMB. One vain, one a coward, one simply playing leader while having no clue of how to truly manage their cohorts. 

Yet, were they really so incompetent if they captured him? Or was Ultra Magnus just worse off than he realized? No, that wasn’t it, neither side. Because it was not the sweeps that caught him.

It was Cyclonus.

Cyclonus, he truly, was an odd one out amongst these new Decepticons. 

He remembered their time well as Quintesson killing jar combatants. Cyclonus was stoic, cold, calculated, a brave and noble warrior. The two seemed to find equal ground on opposite sides, a fierce loyalty to their sides. Where they differed was Ultra Magnus’ sense of justice, and Cyclonus’ need to prove worth. Yet somehow, those values still aligned all too well for them. The wonders Cyclonus could do if he was an autobot, but alas. Cyclonus was made in the image of evil, he would follow Galvatron to the ends of the galaxy. That was something Ultra Magnus would have to spend the next 5 cycles researching on. If he was given five cycles now that he awaited a swift death. Perhaps it would be Cyclonus himself to carry out the hit. At least then, Ultra Magnus’ pride wouldn’t be so wounded.

The door of his prison zoomed up, and in stepped a familiar purple-clad figure. Speak of the devil, it was his ghost again.

Cyclonus stared down at Ultra Magnus, gazes meeting one another in an intense glare. Ultra Magnus could barely make out the sound of Cyclonus humming, as he drew forth a gun. 

Game over, it seemed.

Ultra Magnus would not hang his helm though as he spoke. “Come to finish me off? Do it then. If you were hoping for information I would never–” BANG.

Ultra Magnus shuttered his optics behind his visor, gritting his teeth as the shot rang out. He held his arms down infront of him for some type of protection.

Wait.

His arms? He could move them? Ultra Magnus’ optics widened as he looked down to his now free servos. The mech craned his neck up to see where his arms were previously held hostage. A smoking black shot against the wall and broken chains were above his head. “Up. Now.” Cyclonus commanded, throwing the gun to the side. Despite his order, Ultra Magnus still did not move fast enough for his liking, so he took one of the other’s arms in his grip and pulled. Ultra Magnus stumbled to his pedes, looking at the Decepticon SIC in utter confusion. “You had the perfect chance to kill me and you–” Before he could finish the sentiment, Cyclonus was pulling the Autobot by the collar, and pressing their lips tightly together. Once again, Magnus’ optics went wide, stuttering even to comprehend what had just happened. Cyclonus even now seemed so . . . focused. Slotting their lips together as if they’d always fit so perfectly. Magnus nearly let his optics close, let himself sink into the moment before Cyclonus was pulling away, leaving the Autobot breathless. It took a moment to gather his thoughts before Ultra Magnus was stuttering. Gods, he was stuttering? What had the warship done to him? “I . . . you . . . why did you–” “Consider that your 5-click head start.” The warship interrupted, already pushing Ultra Magnus to leave the cell. “The others will be distracted only for so long.” “Wait, wait!” Ultra Magnus pushed back, turning to him. “Why are you helping me? Wouldn’t it mean the world to your leader if I was dead?” “Yes. It would.” Cyclonus answered back, without the slightest hint of hesitation. Well, good to see his priorities were still straight. “But,” Cyclonus began again. “It is . . . not honorable. You are meant to die on the battlefield, us, in glorious combat. Not to rot in a cell.” Cyclonus informed, rather poetic for the time. Ultra Magnus raised an optic ridge. “So this isn’t over.” Cyclonus nodded. “Not nearly. Now go!”

---- When they met again, the roles could not have been more reversed. Cyclonus hanged off the side of an autobot cargo ship, claws digging deep into the metal, threatening to loosen. One wing hung damaged and smoking. Even if it wasn’t painful to transform, there was no way he could manage himself in the air long enough to not crash. This was, pitifully so, the end for the Decepticon SIC.

Cyclonus mustered what breath he could still, and slowly let his servos unpierce the metal of the autobot ship. He closed his optics, waiting for the fall to brush past him and into oblivion. As his servo fell away from the ship, a hand from within grabbed his wrist roughly, stopping his fall before it even began. Cyclonus’ optics opened and he looked up to see a familiar autobot. “Magnus!” He called out before he was pulled up into the ship. Nothing else was exchanged between the two, as soon as Cyclonus was pulled aboard, Ultra Magnus had dipped him, slotting their lips into a kiss, not unlike when Magnus was kept in prison. It was Cyclonus’ turn for his optics to widen, dumbfounded as Ultra Magnus pulled away from the kiss. “What happened to dying on the battlefield, huh?” the autobot spoke, a smile twitching up on his features. How. How idiotic. How foolish. How casual. How–oh gods above, how charming. 

Cyclonus lunged, arms wrapped tight around Ultra Magnus’ helm, causing the Autobot to stumble back against his own control panel. The kisses started again, heavier, hotter, than before. Forget the fact that mashed-around servos were changing their flight patterns. Cyclonus pressed close, as did Ultra Magnus, taking the slightest gulps of air when the warship allowed him to.

Cyclonus pulled back, taking in a deep breath, eyes half-lidded. Still, he panted as he crooned, “Why must we always seek the unattainable?” “Shut up.” Ultra Magnus rather ineloquently interrupted, going for another kiss. “Just shut up.”

They went on like that for far longer than what was necessary. Not that any of this interaction was necessary. Not that their interaction in the Decepticon cell was necessary.

And yet. It became necessary for them. 

The paint transfers were a tad of a challenge, but nothing a well-crafted explanation couldn’t sweep away. ----

Their third tryst together was far less easy to explain.

Ultra Magnus sat at the edge of a berth, lavender scratches of paint covering his frame. The only sound that filled the room was a few deep breaths in the dark. By his side, a servo wrapped against one shoulder, while the other moved his helm to look his paramour in the optics. Cyclonus, with a satisfied smirk, pressed a kiss against Ultra Magnus’ cheek. “My breath must mingle with yours, lest it feel wrong.” he breathed out. Ultra Magnus hummed. “You just come up with that? It’s beautiful.” He had to admit, raising a hand to cup Cyclonus’ helm in his own, and giving him a more forward peck. “Cyclonus,” he began, letting the warship nuzzle into his servo. “We could be more than this.” Cyclonus answered, “Whatever do you mean?”

Ultra Magnus let a softer smile cross his features. “You could, well, you could join me. You’d be a fine autobot–” Ultra Magnus barely got another word in before the hand that just caressed his shoulder was at his throat, pushing him back on the berth. Cyclonus narrowed ruby optics, a sneer coming to his features. “Choose your words wisely, Ultra Magnus.” He spoke, getting close to the other’s face. “Do not ever ask me to betray my lord.” Ultra Magnus choked for a moment before he nodded as best he could. “Noted.”

Cyclonus loosened his grip, but he did not move from his position. Instead, his sneer turned to a smirk. “Shall we continue?” The warship soon was throwing his leg over the side of Ultra Magnus’ frame, straddling the Autobot's waist as he leaned down. Ultra Magnus chuckled, still collecting the breath that was knocked out of him. “Well, when you move like that.” He hummed. Soon, the Autobot’s face fell into bliss, brought into a few more kisses, that traveled down his neck cables. “Magnus,” Cyclonus whispered, “Your talents are wasted under a faulty prime like Rodimus.” He began. Odd dirty talk to have, but Ultra Magnus couldn’t help himself. This sort of talk was wrong to indulge in, but he pushed. “Go on.” Cyclonus traveled lower on his neck. “Your skills.” A kiss. “Your tactical mastery.” Another kiss. “Mmm,” Ultra Magnus let out, so perfectly in the palm of Cyclonus’ servos. “Surely you have wondered, how much farther your efforts would be appreciated under Decepticon colors.” There it was. Ultra Magnus used an arm to push Cyclonus up from his neck, breaking their contact. Magnus spoke, firm as ever. “Cyclonus. I don’t ask you to betray your lord. You don’t ask me to betray my cause. Got it?” For a moment, the room went cold. Cyclonus’ heated gaze turned. “Noted.” He echoed from before. “Will this be our last rendezvous then?” Ultra Magnus let an optic ridge go up and teased. “Hey now, I didn’t say that.” a chuckle followed, and the mood had been restored. Cyclonus hummed and leaned down for another kiss. “So then. Where were we?”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

If I was in a lucid dream with a ghost, I would simply impress them with my blunt rolling skills

[unfinishedslurs]

RIP Mike Wheeler’s heterosexuality

“Is being gay contagious?”

Steve stares at his phone groggily before putting it back against his ear. “…Mike?”

“Is it?”

“It’s three in the fuckin’ morning is what it is.” He rubs his nose, Mike’s words finally catching up to his brain. “Seriously, Mike? No it’s not fucking contagious, you’re not gonna get the gay disease or whatever from me. I promise you’ll keep liking girls.”

He’s a little hurt, even though he knows the question is innocent. They’ve been asking a lot of questions, like the inquisitive little assholes they are, but none of them had seemed like they weren’t okay with it. Until now.

“…that’s not what I meant,” Mike says. Steve realizes that his voice sounds shaky, even over the phone.

“Then what—“ he cuts himself off, realizing halfway through his bitching that there was only one reason Mike would call about this. “Oh.”

“Can you pick me up?”

“It’s three in the morning,” he repeats, even as he starts wondering where he left his keys. “Your mom…”

“Steve,” Mike pleads. “Please?”

He sighs. “I’m on my way.”

Mike is sitting on his doorstep when he pulls up, head in his hands. Steve doesn’t have to get out of the car, he stalks to the passenger door with all the vitriol of a boy with too many emotions to hold in, and wrenches the door open hard enough that Steve worries he’s going to break it.

“Watch it, noodle arms,” he says, trying to pretend this is normal. Maybe if he acts like it’s not well past midnight, Mike will relax.

It doesn’t work. Mike slumps in his seat, not bothering with the seatbelt. “Can you just drive?”

Steve drives. Doesn’t really know where they’re going, but it doesn’t matter. Just away seems to suffice.

He eventually pulls into a side road

“I’m scared to even touch another guy now! Because apparently hugging is gay when you’re older, and so is sleeping in the same bed, and telling your friends you love them, and…and I’m fucking scared all the time, ‘cause what if they’re right? How do they know? How can they tell by just fucking looking at me? It’s bullshit!”

“Shit, kid,” Steve says, heartbroken. “Shit. C’mere.”

He pulls him close, and Mike turns his face into the crook of his neck, shaking. His shirt collar starts to get damp.

“I don’t know what to do,” he cries. “I thought it was normal, I thought everyone was just…so scared all the time, and we just didn’t talk about it. But then you said that thing about being afraid and pushing it down, and I didn’t— I tried to ignore it. I tried so hard not to think about it, Steve, I swear I tried.”

“I know you did,” he says quietly. It hits him that he might be the only one who really gets it. Eddie gave up denying it long ago, deciding to evolve into something else for them to focus on. Robin’s a girl. Which doesn’t mean jack shit in most cases, because being a lesbian fucking sucks in a town like Hawkins, but girls aren’t as obsessive about it. Sometimes when they compare notes, Robin will just stare at him.

Mike shakes his head. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” he mumbles tearfully into his shoulder.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve says with a surprising amount of vehemence. He grabs Mike by his scrawny little shoulders, pulls him away so he can look directly into his bloodshot eyes. “Not a damn thing, do you hear me? There is nothing wrong with you, and anyone who tells you otherwise deserves a swift kick in the balls. Got it?”

Mike responds by bursting into loud, messy sobs.

Steve just keeps holding him, running a hand through his hair and soothing him gently, like he wishes someone had done for him or Robin or Eddie when they were young. Finally Mike pulls away, embarrassment starting to set in.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Steve asks instead of a meaningless platitude he knows Mike wouldn’t accept.

Mike gives him a suspicious look. “I guess.”

“I’m scared too. All the time.”

“No you’re not,” Mike snorts. “You don’t need to make me feel better just because I’m a pussy.”

“I’m not joking,” he says. “Why do you think I dated girls? Why do you think I went through so many lengths to hide it? It’s fucking terrifying, man. But you know what makes it less scary?”

“Dating girls? Marrying a woman?”

“No.” He pokes Mike’s chest, right over his heart. “People. Friends who love and accept you. Friends who know what you’re going through, even.”

“Do you…” Mike chews his lip. “Do you think Nancy would be okay with it? With me?”

“Absolutely I do. She was okay with me, wasn’t she? And I was her boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but it’s different when it’s your family, right? Sometimes people don’t care if someone is… people don’t care until it affects them. Do you think Nancy is like that?”

He knows Nancy isn’t like that, but that's a talk they’re going to have to have themselves. “I really don’t,” he encourages. “I think she’d be really glad to know this part of you, actually. She loves you.”

“…I know,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t… we made this dumb no secrets pact the first time the Upside-Down happened, I don’t know why. It’s stupid. But…I don’t want to keep secrets from her anymore.”

[they-didnt-last]

anyone interested in talking about the iconic 2000's middle-grade-bordering-on-ya book series gallagher girls??

[corviiids]

planning to post ch 7 of my akechi palace au, "as you like it", on his birthday 2 june so in the leadup (while i reread it and make sure im not contradicting myself) here are some of my favourite and silliest bits and pieces out of the chapters that are up so far

AND a sneak peek of my favourite part of chapter 7. for kicks

[3-aem]

MY BRAINS NOT WORKING AND THE CUTE BOY I WORK WITH KEEPS CORRECTING MY GRAMMAR THIS IS SO AHAIWIAKSDHDGRRRRHRNE

[hella1975]

i cannot stand the aot fandom this is not a new take at all they are universally intolerable but oh my dayssss u are FORBIDDEN from making ANY take about the show it's actually insane to watch. 'aot is perfect' no show is perfect. 'tell me you didnt get the show 😂🫵' people have different opinions/interpretations about things. 'eren is a good guy they could never make me hate him' i think there's actually 4 seasons and two movies explicitely using him as a tool to show that no one is 'good' or 'evil' they are only trying to survive. hello. the fandom r all so far up aot's ass that they actually discredit its writing in the process and it would be laughable if it wasn't so frustrating

[queerdiazs]

snippet sunday

hi friends, i'm gonna share something i've shared before because i LIKE it a lot + buck being a demanding bossy bottom is sooo good (but pls dw eddie gets his turn at being a sloppy silly bottom too and he's SO hot for it)

anyway this is nsfw

“Buck, baby. I want to ask you something.”  Buck nods wildly, knocking his nose against Eddie’s in his fervor. “Fuck and talk at the same time.” He reaches down and grabs hold of Eddie’s ass with both hands, squeezing and pinching as he lifts his hips up to fuck himself on Eddie’s cock. “C’mon, Eds. Be a—a good boy for me. Fuck me—fuck me please.”  Bubbles of static electricity swarm Eddie, springing from each point of contact between them and ricocheting to every untouched inch of his body. He drops down heavily, blanketing Buck’s body with his own, and fucks hard and sloppy and eager. Buck muffles a hiccuped moan against the scruff of Eddie’s cheek, breathy and pitched high. Eddie grins, mollified.   “Like that, baby?”  “Yeah,” Buck grunts, panting against Eddie’s cheek. He wraps his legs around Eddie’s waist, kicking him closer and deeper with his heels, and meets Eddie’s thrusts with little ones of his own. “Yeah, fuck, like that. Just like that.”  Eddie finds Buck’s lips, eating the mewls that fall from Buck’s mouth. It’s little sobs of too-good, too-sharp pleasure; a staccato of breaths that get stuck in his chest on each withdraw and shoved out on every thrust forward. Eddie’s so deep inside Buck—he can feel himself, right up in Buck’s guts, beneath the muscle and fat of Buck’s tummy where his prick’s at, twitching from friction and sensation.  “Buck,” he says, smearing Buck’s name all along Buck’s cheek and throat and chin. They’re so wet, so sweaty, that Buck can’t get a good grip on his back to scratch his nails in without slipping. “Buck, baby. Marry me. Please marry me.”  Beneath him, Buck’s body jolts. “Goddamn, Eddie,” Buck swears, but it kind of feels like a benediction, a prayer sweeter than any he’s every heard. Buck cradles his cheeks in both hands and sucks on his tongue, loud and free in his pleasure. He laughs like sunshine. “No.” 

i was tagged by @hippolotamus, @try-set-me-on-fire, @callaplums, @thewolvesof1998, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @exhuastedpigeon, @honestlydarkprincess, @jesuisici33, @wikiangela, and @daffi-990 mwaH MWAH

and i'm tagging @watchyourbuck, @eddiediaztho, @fortheloveofbuddie, @callmenewbie, and whoever else wants to share consider yourself tagged 🫶🏼

[athena14044]

Anakin and Padme after The Meeting on the Turret Stairs by Frederic William Burton (under the cut)

[keeps-ache]

i think i'm starting to really like writing again :D this will have consequences

[enhanced-operatives-division]

@dandorime hope you don't mind me pinging you but I thought making a post would be easier (plus it would open it up to further discussion with other people if they wanted).

I say 1967/68 because based on what we can find, there's nothing so far really strongly indicating one year or the other. Anyways the first one is in IEYTD 2 in Stage Fright:

We see 1967 on the engravings under the table flap which allows you to get into the drawers. The second bit is in IEYTD 3 in Blind Spot:

This is part of the car manual, and as you can see it says 1968. Because of Reggie's voice line about it before the level ("The crew back home built you a car...well it wasn't built for you."), I'm generally more inclined to think 1967 but honestly I have no clue. I'm inclined to put it down to preference but honestly I think everyone in this fandom has their own timeline of events since so much surrounding the games is headcanon that a lot of us just collectively accept a lot of the time (since we all take a little and make it a LOT)

But nyeah!! There ya go :3

[jellyjamheadobb]

Fucking listen to this. My friends and I. We playin Two Truths And A Lie. This was my fucking thrn

1 ”imagine being attracted to an old man twice/three times your age. Couldn’t be me”

2 “Imagine having been hit by a car twice in one week and being completely fine. Couldn’t be me”

3 “Imagine losing your virginity to a friend and then (casually) never talking about it. Couldn’t be me”

literally all four of my friends bro

friend 1: “1. You look like you’d fuck an old man”

friend 2: “yeah, 1”

friend 3 + 4: “old man fucker”

friend 2: “didn’t you say in 10th grade how you’d go down on our Economy teacher?”

they didn’t even fucking flinch. I got shot with a double barrel gun and then thrown in the pool of fire by them. Inconsolable. Fucking destroyed. I am. losing my shit. Sticks and stones can break my bones but fuck. Those words hurt me more.