#truck mating rituals

[istadris]

Funny fuel for: Bot clothing kink

A bit more specification on the humans teasing outta spite one (relevant in TFA especially): 

1) They wouldn’t harass or actively approach. Tease as in pretending they do not know that cybertronians even can be intimate w anyone in the way humans can.

Like doing things that drive em up a wall, for example casually underdressing bc “it wouldn’t matter” to bots, or dropping something and bending over in a waay too short skirt.

2) Especially in TFA bots are very proud of being “more advanced in literally anything” in default, even if they never heard of said thing before. By that logic humans would be this new , underdeveloped and naive civilization. Kinda how they get the condescending “pet status” literally everywhere.

That, together with the fact that they are a different species, potentially unicron spawn, and OrGaNiC, would make it so that they gotta stay in the closet and hide it to keep face. 

And THAT is what humans would use outta spite. Basically blueballing them and driving them up the wall.

3) Example1#: Sentinel “MaGnUs” is too xenophobic and paranoid about a human sent to cybertron and would insist the human stay in sight at ALL TIMES?

As per malicious compliance, not only would they set up shop in the rec room (remember beds included), but would put on/take off most of their clothes in sight. If asked, they woud just tell innocently, that Sentinel told em to stay in sight ALWAYS. Now Sentinel has to explain, that he ain’t a pervert. The rumors would never really disappear, and it becomes an inside joke. Or something OP would tease him with subtly.

Example2#: Is Megs out of his cell but under supervision and in an anklet for plot reasons? 

(like being planned to secretly be manipulating sentinel, like he did with trial&error and has benefits, or diplomatic reasons etc.)

Casually sit in his lap like he is comfy, especially in skirts, or those bedroom gowns with the feathers and silk(and nothing else) in the morning.

He would seemingly not react or move and just look extra grumpy, others thinking he feels disrespected. But when they leave there would be a dent on the metal seat armrest from *that horny grip*, getting visible when Megs moves his hand later.

Let the funny cliche suggestive shenanigans begin! XD

****

I’m sorry, I got distracted by the concept of Sentinel getting trapped in his own bigotry and being stuck between acknowledging he’s a pervert or pass as a complete idiot. Wait, that never stopped Sentinel before. That doesn’t stop him from being a pervert by Autobot standards. Good, gotta make sure he suffers for his cringe crimes.

I think Megatron spent enough time spying on humans in the Sumdac lab to be more aware of the cultural differences (through intense study of the matter. Very intense and careful study) and be less vulnerable to such ploys than your average bot freshly debarked from Cybertron.

I however approve thoroughly of the Horny Grip. Eye twitching is also a good indicator he’s not as unaffected as he pretends.

Honestly though, given the TFA verse, I don’t think any human can combine “seduction” and “subtlety ”. They got villains dressing up as Robin Hood ! They have bold fashion statements ! Would they play up clichés seduction routines ? Of course they would! 

This is why Swindle is so good at business. He knew what he got into the moment he struck a deal with fashion businesses all over the place.

[creepling]

FUCK this tcm game discourse lemmie hit ya with some Hands smut. under the read more, you know the drill.

tags: MINORS DNI. gn!reader, dub-con, primal, petplay, size difference, electrocution, unprotected sex, breeding, not proofread.

what makes him different in tactic from the family is he is a 'grab and go' type guy. he's impatient, hates the chase. it's useless to him when he has the ability to just pick you up and throw you in the back of his race truck.

he has you bound to the truck so he can go on a joy ride. driving 100 mph down a dirt road, grunting and howling like a maniac. it's like a scene from mad max, the sheer chaos from the rush of the truck, the dirt kicking up and blowing back in your face. blindfolded and tied up, all you feel is the whip of the air and the bumps in the road. eventually when you give into him, maybe you can be a passenger princess/prince. this is Hands' way of showing off, letting you see who's The Man. it's the most endearing he's gonna be, even if you're screaming bloody murder.

Hands likes the fiesty ones, the ones that kick and scream, because their efforts are like pinches compared to his giant mass. the effort of taking in a 'feral' stray and domesticating you is time well spent. locking you in a cage, electrifying it to amuse in your attempts to combat the shocks to try and escape. he waits and banks on you to get exhausted and give up; like a beaten dog. then he turns the electricity off, enters the cage and thuds down on the filthy floor to cradle you in his arms and sit you in his crossed legs.

he pets you the way animals make a kinship, nuzzling his nose into your face, combing the knots in your hair with his thick fingers. it starts off innocent, but he warms up to you as the days weigh in. his hands explore different places, make marks on your soft skin; knead and scratch your thighs and chest. it was clear what his intentions were as his fingers ghost along your ass and further between your legs. his growls intensifying as your hot breath catches in your throat. he chuckles at your surprise, but he never advanced, only peering down at you with dark eyes, pressing your small body to his broad chest. finding comfort in the warm between your legs, his erection pulsing against your leg.

anything was better than the torture. and morbid curiousity gets the better of you.

eventually you answer his mating rituals, presenting yourself with open legs, bracing yourself for what he had in store. his eyes light up with desire, amused grunts panting out of him as he fumbles with his belt. his cock springs and aligns along your stomach, and all you can think is oh, fuck.

he fucks you like it's mating. stretching your hole with his thick cock, smirking at your fussing. the only goal he has in his primitive mind is to fill you with his load. thrusts hard and slow as his hands pinch your waist, groaning at the feeling of your nails digging into his arms. his cock is deep inside you and there is little chance of release as he ruts into you. his hot breath beating against your body drenched in sweat. his thrusts quicken in pace, alerting you of his climax, until a slick, hot warmth fills your swollen entrance.

Hands inspects the cum leaking from you, pronging his fingers inside you so his seed had claim -- letting none of it go to waste. his cum strings between his fingers and he stuffs them into your mouth, coating your tongue with his taste. he pours his stare into your distant, lulling eyes and thinks such a good, little pet.

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 10 (Praise Kink)

Kink: Praise Kink

Pairing: Fem!Harpy x Fem!Reader

Other Kinks: Cunnilingus, Body Worship

Warnings: N/A

Word Counts: 1213 words

Kinktober Masterlist

“I love it!” Illane squeals, hitting a pitch usually reserved for her hunting calls. “By the goddesses, you did amazing!”

You let the compliment roll down your body like a syrup, sticky and sweet.

It had taken you many weeks to collect all the decorations for the new nest. Not only was the dense forest you and your new wife called home generally bereft of shiny things, you're lack of wings meant it was far more difficult to maneuver. Not to mention keeping it secret from Illane, who was far more observant than her playful nature would suggest.

But it was all worth it, seeing the smile on her face.

“Well, know we must celebrate.” Illane cheers, hitting her two claws together in a delighted clap. “It would be such a shame to not consummate our new home, hmm?”

With all the subtlety of a big wheel truck, Illane lifts you by under the arms and throws you on the bed. After several years together you’ve gotten used to her fits of passion, letting you body go limp as she tosses you around. It helped with Illane’s excess strength to do so, her excitement often meaning she’d throw you a little too hard. You found it charming,

Illane quickly moved to straddle your hips, thick thighs easily covering most of your lower half. She leaves a towering shadow over you, her wingtips just reaching the ends of the bed as she lays over you. There's that special glint in her eye, pupils blown wide as she peers down at you, as if you're the most valuable gem in her collection.

“You’re so cute.” Illane whispers, the feathers down the side of face twitching as she smiles wide. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Illane.”

“Yes but you’re just so-”

Illane hums, trying to find the words.

“-lovely, you’re absolutely lovely.” She pecks you on the cheek, lingering with her lips. “Every part of you.” Illane kisses your jaw, then your neck. She stops and gives another to the same spot, then licks up the sides of it. A shiver runs down your spine. “Absolutely…delectable.”

Illane nuzzles her face in your clavicle, moving her wing to pull up your shirt. You think you see where this is going, and you quite like it.

Illane kisses down your sternum, then stops and admires you bare breasts.

“I could spend days just here.” Illane moans, quickly latching onto a nipple and sucking, wasting no time. You throw your head back with a soft whine, hands grasping to hold onto one of her wings, to finger through the reddish-brown feathers. Illane pops her lips off the nipple, a depraved smile in her face.” Such delicious tits, all for me.” Illane turns to sucks in the other teet, wiggling her tongue until it pebbles in her mouth. Your fingers dig through her feathers, feeling the thin bone.

Illane gently bites on the fat of your breast, absolutely loving the shapes of bruises on your skin. She always laps at it afterwards, some harpy ritual of cleaning and mating.

She directs her mouth down your abdomen, rubbing her face against the plush skin. “So soft.” She moans to herself. But as much as she can usually spend complimenting your stomach, she is eager to get to the best part.

“And what a pussy.” You feel your face get flushed, looking down at how Illane looks at your clothed lips, pulling down the waistband of your skirt with her teeth and throwing it to the side. She immediately nuzzles her face into your thigh, taking a big sniff. “I think a death between these thighs would he most blissful.”

Even after all these years, her blessed devotion, her unapologetic sweet talk still sets a fire underneath your skin. Looking into her eyes, you can tell she means every word.

“I must have a taste.” Illane remarks, licking a stripe up the crotch of your panties. Your thighs clench, feeling the tickling brush of her feathers against you. Illane’s eyes roll back into her head, the sound of her smacking her lips as she notices your slickness. “Exquisite.”

Illane jumps back in, hungrily sucking on your clit through the fabric. The excess sensation is enough to have your hips jerk, humping towards her face. She accepts it with a moan, sucking some more before licking at your lips once more. You can hear her trying to push away the fabric from your bare cunt with her nose, and you help her by pulling it aside.

She’s quick to dive right, her long tongue curling against your innermost walls. You squeak, Illane’s chuckles reverberating through the insides.

She quickly begins thrusting her tongue, in and out, occasionally stopping to have it lap at your walls. A sizeable portion presses against your g-spot, which Illane finds with ease.

Electricity seems to dance across your skin, another hand goes to card your fingers through the auburn hair on her scalp, which curls beautifully before transitioning into her feathers. Your hips feel as if they move on their own, humping against Illane’s face with desperation. Illane doesn’t seem to mind, in fact she occasionally singles and presses her face harder against your cunt, as if trying to get deeper and deeper inside you than possible.

You spasm around her tongue, feeling your climax get closer and closer. Illane is a master of pleasuring you, able to make you cum embossing fast with just some words and her mouth. It's why you whine she slides her tongue out, detaching herself from your sopping cunt.

“Look at me, love.”

Lazy eyes slide towards her and you’re sure you're a sight; face flushed, hair disheveled, and mouth open like a proper whore.

“Goddesses, how gorgeous.” Illane easily shuffles up your body, chin dripping with your juices, and gives you a hot kiss. Her tongue mixes with yours, tasting yourself on her palate. You feel your eyes rolling back as she defiled your mouth with same fervor as your sex, whining as she pulls away once again.

“I need toy to cum on my tongue, love.” Illane whispers in your ear. “Will you do that? Cum for me?”

You shake your head rapidly, Illane just giving you a wide smile as she shuffles back down and resumes her work. Thoroughly teased, your pussy is quickly back where it was, chasing that orgasms as she thrusts in and out.

Your clit pushes against her nose, hips canting as Illane pried your thighs apart with her wings, shuffling her shoulders in between. It allows her to reach even deeper inside you, unexplored areas extra reactive.

Fingers tugging at her hair, the shaking fire bursts inside of you, hips spasming a couple times as your orgasms washes all over her face. Illane’s moans are muffled as she soaks up the taste, tongue still playing with your overstimulated pussy as she laps up the cum.

Your whole body feels like static, still reeling from the crash of your orgasm.

Illane snuggles up to your side, throwing a wing over your nude form. The feathers are warm, protecting you from the oncoming chill, and you nuzzle into her breasts.

“I love you, wife.” Illane whispers, kissing the top of your head.

[catierambles]

Blood Moon Ch.13

Pairing: Syverson x Annalisa Caulfield (OFC)

Another full moon came and went, Annalisa offering herself up like a ritual sacrifice after he shifted, clinging to him as he claimed her as a Mate over and over again until his humanity pushed forward and he was himself again, albeit only mentally. Mating or killing satisfied the beast after it took over, letting it retreat.

Working at the clubs was not as exciting as he had initially thought it was going to be. He mainly sat in their security hub, keeping an eye on the cameras, giving orders through the radio to the rest of the security staff. Although his Special Forces training let him solve issues before they became problems, sending staff to certain areas when his gut started nagging at him. Most times it was just a handsy drunk who wouldn't leave the "Concierge Staff" alone, a title he now knew Sweeney and a few others had. They took care of the VIPs and kept an eye out for trouble with an attention to detail security couldn't have given the size of their areas. Took care of the VIPs within reason; Annalisa wasn't running a brothel. If they wanted to go home with one of them, that was their choice, but they did so off the clock. It wasn't required of them or implied they should.

Eugene avoided him like a good boy, even doing an about face when he walked into the security room and saw him in there. Sy didn't know if he took his threat seriously, but he sure as hell seemed to take Annalisa's.

It took a few weeks of coordination with schedules before a get-together was planned with his family. Between his brothers schedules and his new one, they decided on lunch on a Saturday it was going to be nice out, giving Sy enough time afterwards to get some sleep before work. He's seen Annalisa in the sun, so he knew that particular bit of vampire lore was inaccurate, and she sure as hell didn't sparkle.

“What's gonna happen if you eat real food?” He asked as they drove down the highway out of the city and into the country.

“I'll avoid it the best I can, but if I can't...well, we'll cross that bridge if we get to it.” She said, her thumb moving back and forth over his jeans where her hand was wrapped around his knee.

She hung back a little as they got out of the truck after parking behind an SUV in front of a ranch style house, a couple other trucks already there.

“Uncle Kyle!” Came the chorus of tiny voices and he was suddenly surrounded, almost knocked off his feet as they all vied for who got to be picked up and hugged first. He made sure to hug them all in turn in massive bear hugs, picking up two of the smallest who couldn't be older than four and sitting them on a hip each as they waded towards the house, a couple still clinging to his legs.

“You guys are gettin' too big for this.” He said, his voice strained with false exertion. It was chaos as they got closer to the house, a few dogs running out into the front yard and he set the kids down to say hi to them as well, the kids running off for the house. Again, Annalisa hung back, twisting her fingers somewhat nervously. A German Shepherd broke off from the rest to stand in front of her, looking at her curiously.

“Hello.” She said and it sniffed her a couple times before it's tail started wagging at blurring speeds, pressing against her legs and looking up at her adoringly as she pet it.

“See you met Aika.” Sy said, a silvery-blue pitbull plastered against him and trying to lick his face, “She was a demo dog, served with her in Afghanistan. She retired right after I did so I adopted her. Can't have dogs at the apartment, so my folks look after her. Wouldn't wanna keep her there, anyway. She's got a couple acres to run around on here.”

“She's pretty.” She said, kneeling and running her hands over her cheeks and ears. “Aren't you a pretty girl?”

“Woman, that is a highly trained Army dog, you can't be baby-talkin'—”

“Such a pretty girl, yes you are.” Aika ate it up, giving her a doggy smile and trying to lick her face.

“Hey, you two!” They looked up as an older woman came out of the house. “I wondered what the fuss was about.”

“Hey, ma.” Sy said, standing and pulling her into a hug, kissing her cheek. “Ma, this is Annalisa.”

“Well ain't you the prettiest thing.” She said as Annalisa stood, “Bit young though, ain't she?”

“Ma.” Sy said.

“Just pokin' fun.” She said and went to her, taking her hands in hers warmly. “It's nice to meet you, Annalisa. My youngest has been goin' on and on about you and your clubs since he found out you and Kyle were datin'. Nice to put a face to the legend.”

“Thank you, ma'am, it's nice to meet you too.”

“Oh, please. Don't you “ma'am” me, it's Denise. Now let's get inside, the others are already 'round back. Hope you came hungry. We don't often have all our boys together so Jack is grillin' enough to feed an army.” She said as she pulled away, leading the way back to the house. Pictures of Sy at various ages along with his brothers lined the walls and the house was very...lived in, but not messy. Organized chaos of dog toys, children's toys, dog bowls in the kitchen. They made their way to the back of the house, Aika staying at Annalisa's side in reaching distance.

“Well look who it is!” They heard as they stepped out into the massive backyard.

“Hey, pops.” Sy said, going over to give him a hug. “Dad, this is Annalisa.”

“Ain't she pretty, Jack?” Denise asked and Annalisa felt her cheeks heat a little.

“As a picture.” Jack said and pulled Annalisa into a hug, taking her by surprise a little. “Sorry, shoulda asked first.”

“It's okay.” She said, smiling a little as she pulled away, “I don't mind hugs.”

“How do you like your burgers, Annalisa?” He asked.

“Actually, pops—”

“Rare.” She said, “The bloodier the better.”

“Woman after my own heart.” Jack said, turning back to the grill, “Should be ready in a few. Mikey is starin', so best put him out of his misery.”

“Cross that bridge when we get to it?” Sy whispered as they walked away and she nodded. She had noticed the young man trying his hardest to not be obvious in his stares, but he had very clearly failed. He had the same thick black hair Jack did, only his wasn't shot with white, clear pale skin, and the same blue eyes as the rest of them. Sy was handsome, his brother was straddling the line between that and pretty. “Mikey.”

“Hey, Sy.” Mike said, looking at Annalisa and back at his brother quickly.

“Oh for fucks sake, Mikey. Get it outta your system.”

“I love your clubs.” He said in a rush and she gave a small laugh, “Just...everything about them is awesome and the drinks are fantastic and—”

“I'm glad you enjoy yourself.” She said, cutting off the stream of words before he passed out from lack of oxygen, “Have you been getting taken care of okay?”

“Yeah!” He said, “Shocked the hell out of me and my friends when we went and got told I was on the VIP list. I know Sy told me I was, but it was still a surprise. I didn't think he was serious.”

“Why would I lie about that?” Sy asked and Mike shrugged. Sy was suddenly pulled into a headlock making her jump a little.

“How's it goin' little brother?!” The guy asked, rubbing the top of his head.

“Get off me Jake!” Sy said and got himself free, pushing him away. “Jackass.”

“Douchebag.” Jake said, “This the infamous Annalisa?”

“Nice to meet you.” She said with a snort and he gave her a quick once-over.

“You're way too pretty to be datin' this bum.” He said.

“And you're way too married.” Sy said.

“Dani and I separated, actually.” Jake said and Sy winced.

“Sorry, man, I didn't know.”

“Yeah, it's recent. Her and the kids are at her moms.” He said, “Anyway, you're certainly a step up from the Barbie.”

“Tiffany?” Annalisa asked and he nodded.

“Never liked her.” Jake said, “Always had a bad feelin' about her. 'Specially when she came onto me while Kyle was deployed.”

“You never told me that!” Sy said.

“Tellin' ya now. I turned her down hard and told her to fuck off.” Jake said, “Harpy ain't my type and ya know, I was married at the time.”

“Whatever, it don't matter anymore.” Sy said and laid his arm around her shoulders, “C'mon, let's go get you introduced to the others.” Looking over his shoulder as they walked away, he pointed at his eyes and then at Jake, who just flipped him off making him smile. Brothers.

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug reads my fanfiction for 'The Bad Batch'

Proverbs 11:2 “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.”

I made the gross error of telling Doug that I was writing a novel length fanfiction crossover of The Bad Batch and The Expanse. It's here if you'd like to take a gander yourself.

A massive fan of both, Doug practically hooted with joy when I mentioned it at a barbeque. So, like a dumbass, I sent him a link to the fic, thinking he’d wax praise on me.

I had forgotten how aggressively irreverent this man is. I was in for a beating.

Hint: I quickly sketched this up and sent it to Doug asking if this is how he imagined Tech and Sjael Drummer in the story. He said yes, and was ECSTATIC. I'm 99% sure it's on his fridge now. Next to @amalthiaph's piece of course.

CW: It's Doug, he's not child friendly. Y'all should've figured it out by now.

They're looking at me like 'We're a clone commando genius and a pilot with a Ph.D in chemical engineering. WTF is this hillbilly shit?"

Anywho, here’s the delightful exchange we had after he finished up the current chapter:

Doug: So, lemme get this straight. We got a nice pretty Belter scientist-engineer, Sa-Jail Drummah, –so the lady’s a space Cajun. She got an undercut, tattoos, some Indian blood in her, and a crazy bitch sister who was in the Navy! Yup, pure Gulf Shore girl, got it. Sa-Jail’s a chemical engineer, I bet she got her degree at USM* like a good gal. And she meets Ryan-from-Accounting, who is a space redneck, because the boy’s a Mandalorian clone. And they’re all out camping, nice. It’s a white trash love story in space, awesome. Love it.

Me: It’s not a white trash love story in space, DOUG.

Doug: Oh, it ain’t? Let’s see here…the first time the boy meets the girl, she’s setting up a shitty perimeter fence around her trailer in the woods and he holds her up at gunpoint in the middle of the night. That’s some bayou romance right up in there. Did she show him her shrimping boat after that?”

Me: …that is true. No shrimping boat, but he joins her on a hike the next day.

Doug: Taking a girl out into the woods to show her what a rough rugged redneck you are! That’s classic white trash mating rituals right there. I’ve seen it in action my whole life, I know it when I see it. Did the boy talk about his guns?

Me: No, but he does talk about his time in the armed forces and his brothers. His guns are in his backpack. 

Doug: Guns on the first date? Seriously. And bragging about your time in the USMC is like, the first thing a redneck does to impress a lady besides talking about his truck and his smoker and how much he goes to church. This is real redneck courtship happening in this story. Oh, and the part where they finally start banging?”

Me: (takes deep breath) What about it? 

Doug: First of all, my wife, she loved that part!

Me: YOU READ THIS TO YOUR WIFE?!**

Doug: Well, yeah! She loves a good romance and we had a long drive that day. Anyway, Sa-Jail had just been bitching about her ex-oyfriend, or was it ex-husband?

Me: Ex-fiance.

Doug: Same difference. Anyway, Toby***–clearly named after Toby Keith like a good Southern man–left her for some other chick after he joined the Navy because that’s how the Navy man rolls. Just like Toaster Strudel's daddy. Wasn’t Toby a pilot? Yup, sounds like an average day in Pensacola to me. Flew his Blue Angel to different poon. Then, Sa-Jail, well, she needed somebody else to wash her mouth out, per se. 

So, after knowing the man for what, two or three days, she flings herself at Ryan-from-Accounting and they proceed to hump like coked-out rabbits all over her trailer. And in TRUE Cajun fashion, Sa-Jail is so impressed by Ryan-from-Accounting’s pipelaying skills that she makes him DINNER. And what does Ryan-from-Accounting do that any self-preserving redneck man would do with a woman he just started dating?

Me: Enlighten my Yankee self, Doug.

Doug: HE CALLS ALL HIS HUNGRY RELATIVES OVER TO JOIN THEM FOR THEIR FIRST DINNER TOGETHER. Which they all enjoy outside the trailer! Cookout style! Nothing says ‘redneck romance’ like ‘Hey sugar, you and me just started getting serious five minutes ago, now HERE IS MY WHOLE FAMILY. FROM MY BROTHER CLAYTON THAT JUST GOT RELEASED FROM ANGOLA TO MY COUSIN CAROLLYNN WHO HAS FIVE BABY DADDIES. ALSO WE ARE GOING TO CHURCH TOMORROW AND GETTING CRACKER BARREL AFTER THAT SO GET A NICE DRESS OR MEEMAW AND MY AUNTIES WILL JUDGE.” 

Me: Jesus Christ, Doug, that is not what happened.

::Doug screenshots my longfic and sends it to me and I am deceased because he’s not exactly wrong::

Doug: And of course, Sa-Jail is a good Cajun woman, just rolls up her sleeves and feeds everybody because that’s how the bayou babe do. The rest of the story might as well be called ‘Real Housewives of Space Slidell’ for all of the white trash shenanigans that follow. Let’s see here…there’s knife chasing, screaming, someone gets pregnant out of wedlock, a fist fight while someone’s driving, lots of guns, tattoos, motorcycles, a cowboy bar, a hot Southern nurse, lots of cussing, baby daddy drama, biscuits and gravy, Navy veterans, Ryan-from-Accounting’s various brothers from different daddies show up and they all want food and a place to stay, hooch-making, pimp-slaps, more guns…this is a real Cajun-Redneck tale of love. With spaceships. It’s great!

Me: I’m speechless, Doug.

Doug: Jenny loved the scenes where they cross a river with the motorcycle and then they do the nasty next to it. That’s 10/10 on the redneck  Was Ryan-from-Accounting playing ‘Fishin’ in the Dark’ in the background on his phone, too?” 

Me: I AM GENUINELY SPEECHLESS, DOUG. 

@eyecandyeoz, did he do a good job capturing the essence of the story? LOL

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

*=In Doug’s defense, University of Southern Mississippi has an incredible department regarding chemical engineering and specifically, polymer science. So he’s not far off.

**=I DIED, I’M DEAD, A GHOST IS WRITING THIS RIGHT NOW. 

***=HIS NAME WAS NOT TOBY FFS. 

[eggcompany]

Julian, On My Knees Part 5

Jaskier spent three nights there, hidden away in the clinic walls. Fever caused by a mix of exhaustion, chronic congested slick glands, and a psychogenic fever that reached 104.8. He got sick, they treated him like any other unmated omega, and they got him better however they saw fit. But he did get better. 

Jaskier met Geralt in the waiting room, nurse tailing behind him. He looked better, felt better. Color back to his face, steady on his feet. He just wanted to leave, to stop all the treatments and procedures, and crawl back to the flat, back to his alpha, plant himself against that cozy bosom of his lovely alpha.

“Mister Rivia” Jaskier sighed as soon as he laid eyes on the alpha, going up to him with a dopey grin on his face. He wrapped his arms around the older man’s waist, leaning heavily on him. He had to wear his scent collar but Jaskier took in big lungfuls of the scent that stuck to the alpha’s clothes, his skin. It was so good, all comfort and warmth. Geralt hugged him back, giving the omega a good squeeze, rubbing up and down his back a few times. Jaskier just took in the good feeling, the good feeling of being in his alpha’s arms again, being safe again. 

“We had to give him an injection in his arm so he may be a bit fussy with it. He should be clear headed in about ten to fifteen minutes. It was a small tranquilizer to help his anxiety of coming back home.” The nurse explained and Jaskier tried to tune her out, the irritating bitch. He was busy, as if she hadn’t noticed. She didn’t need to explain it to his alpha, didn’t need to talk to him at all for that matter. 

“Hey buddy, ready to go home?” Geralt asked, putting a bit of space between them, handing Julian the hoodie and little stuffed dragon he’d brought for him. He wanted to make sure Julian was warm and cozy, making everything as comfortable as possible. 

Jaskier nodded, took his stuffed animal, pulled his hoodie on, backpack sat on his feet. He went back to leaning on the alpha, face hidden in Geralt’s neck, arms around his waist, stuffed animal in hand. He just wanted to go home, sleep and eat something greasy. Eat everything. He was starving. 

The nurse handed some papers over to Geralt. Completely forgoing Jaskier’s presence, reaching around him to put the papers in Geralt’s hands.

“He should be fine for the ride home. So it’s the fever medication for three days no matter if the fever doesn’t come back, the tranquilizers at night as needed, with or without food, and if we can get him to actually do some therapeutic rituals, cleaning, cooking, any kind of creative activity or decorating, that would lower that risk for relapse by at least fifty percent. We had him do some simple crafts and it helped but anything from color books to little craft kits to making dinner or cleaning. This has some recommendations and this is a center down in south Cintra that specializes. ” The nurse explained and Geralt listened, glancing down at the card that was paper clipped on top of the thick stack of papers and pamphlets. 

The same center Ciri went to on Tuesday to do her homework with a group of other omegas from her school. It was a nice place with a good snack bar, it was a newer establishment, more new aged ideals. Good. 

Geralt patted the omegas back and turned for them to leave, bending to take his backpack. The nurse said a polite goodbye and went back to her ward. Geralt got an itch about her, something about the way she avoided looking at Julian. He pushed the thought away, focusing back on Julian. 

Jaskier looked like a cherry as Geralt guided them to the exit. He hated being talked around like he was still a kid. Hated being treated like that. 

They left, both glad to be away from the facility, and Jaskier was quietly leaning against the truck window. 

He’d been feeling a certain way. Being asked if he was mated, why he wasn’t, who he lived with, why he lived with an alpha, why did he live with a mated alpha, who he was dating, why he wasn’t dating. Everyone asked about the alpha who brought him in. It hurt his feelings. Being poked and prodded having things shoved up inside of him surrounded by loud noises and beeps and lights. It put him on edge because he hated it. He wanted his alpha to hold his hand but he didn’t want anyone to think Mister Rivia was his. He wasn’t. He wasn’t mated to him. He was mated to someone else. And that just made Jaskier wanna cry, crawl into the pit of shame of his nest and cry. He felt like Mister Rivia deserved better, better than to be thought of like that. 

“They don’t know you’re mated to someone else. They thought you were… We have the same address and all.” Jaskier muttered, trying to explain why they handed him the paperwork. He couldn’t bring his eyes totally to the alpha, stead just watching his hands on the steering wheel. 

“It’s okay Jaskier. If you want we can try some of these things. Have you read through them?” Geralt asked, nodding down at the papers sitting on the console. Ciri liked doing certain things, she liked doing cross stitch and making metal jewelry pieces, little hands-on things. Maybe Julian would like something like that. Crochet or beading or sewing or something. Origami since he was good with his hands. Julian let out a frustrated groan, bringing his hands up to shove against his eyes. 

“No. Was humiliating. They had me doing baby crafts and it was fucking working. I’m not a child anymore! I’m not some stupid thumb twiddling omega who needs puzzles and Valium to function! I’m grown, I don’t need stupid kids toys to be- be fucking functional.” Jaskier yelled, tears rolling down his cheeks in anger. He was so upset. Angry and he wasn’t even mad at Mister Rivia. He was mad at everything. Mad at what he was, mad he couldn’t even be a good omega. 

Mister Rivia had to treat him like a kid, like a burden, and Jaskier hated it. Hated how sitting and putting together puzzle cubes and painting his nails made his very soul calm down, like he was a toddler. He was more than some 1950’s house omega made to push out puppies and serve his alpha. He didn’t even have an alpha, he had- 

“I know that Julian. I know it hurts and it’s confusing. I understand, I don’t think any less of you.” Geralt said truthfully. The poor thing was just going through so much, medicine changing his brain chemistry, his body trying to right itself with his changing mind. He was struggling to keep up with his body which was struggling to keep up with his head. Julian sniffed, wiping his face on his sleeves to no avail, tears and snot from each wrecked sob worsening. 

“I wish I was- was someone else. Wish I wasn’t an omega, wish I wasn’t so fucked up. Wish my head was screwed on right, wish my body wasn’t so fucking broken.” Jaskier cried out as he cried harder, breathing shortly before letting out heartbreaking sobs. He cried out, frustration, pain, hatred, it all came flooding out of him at once. He brought his feet up onto the edge of the seat, drawing his knees to his chest, making himself smaller, hiding his face in his knees. 

He only cried harder when Geralt reached out, running a hand over the omega’s head to settle heavily on the curve of his neck, making it even easier for all the mess to spill from Jaskier’s head, safe to let it all out. 

Geralt didn’t know what to say, so he just drove them home. One hand heavy on Jaskier’s back, up to his hairline, down to the tops of his pants. He just hurt. It hurt to see his omega so distraught, his head in such a mess, hurting and sad. Geralt just wanted to make it better, to take the omega and make it better. Wanted to stop right there in traffic and kiss the boy till he understood, till he knew how perfect he was, what a gift to the world he was by just being. 

But he couldn’t. Couldn’t break that trust Julian held for him. Couldn’t force his feelings onto the omega while he was so confused and vulnerable. So he just drove them home, one hand selfishly out reached, touching the omega. 

When Geralt pulled into the garage, he reached into the backseat for the roll of paper towels he always had tucked away. They came in handy as he shushed gently, raising Jaskier’s face up. He wiped at the tears, the snot, the drool. He peeled off his scent collar, putting it in the backseat as he got a new towel. 

“I’m disgusting, quit, it's gross.” Jaskier lamented as the alpha started to wipe at his forehead, pushing his bangs up to wipe away the sweat. 

Geralt didn’t stop, completely ignoring the passive little shoves at his wrists. The words got under his skin, made him feel… not angry, but some big feeling deep in his chest that felt close enough like anger. 

“You’re not disgusting. You’re messy, you’ve been messy since the day you moved in with me. You’re messy and you’re a disaster. It’s who you are, Julian. You’re also very kind and thoughtful, you’re creative and you make beautiful music. You take care of the house, you spend time with me even though I’m a grouch, you’ve always been so bright and brough that everywhere you go. You’ve been sick and got dealt a bad hand of cards, but you're not a bad omega. You're a good omega and a good boy. You take care of yourself and anyone who treats you otherwise is just stupid. You understand that?” Geralt asked, finally letting that almost anger, that irritation that’s been buzzing under his skin, that yearning for Julian to be happy and unable to supply it, he let it all out. He knew he was gruff, voice rough and usually scary sounding. But when he looked at Julian’s face, he didn’t see any of that. No fear, just a little smile on his lips. 

“You’re too nice to me.” Jaskier sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Mister Rivia was too nice, one of the nicest alpha’s he’s ever been around. Maybe it was because he was mated, maybe because he was a father, maybe because he was just a decent man. Jaskier didn’t know but he loved it. 

“You know that’s not true. Now come on.” Geralt said and got out of the truck going to the other side and opened Julian’s door for him. He held a hand out to help Julian get out of the truck, a little wobbly on his feet, unbalanced from crying. 

Jaskier followed Geralt, quiet and close. Geralt unlocked the door for them both, setting Jaskier’s bag to the side knowing it had a dirty blanket stuffed inside. He’d do the laundry later once he got his omega settled. 

“Go sit down. I’m going to make dinner. Read those papers.” Geralt said and handed the stack of papers to Julian who just went and curled up in the recliner chair. 

Geralt put together breakfast. Julian liked breakfast. Eggs and fried ham slices and a little cup of fruit. He then dug through the fridge for a bottle of juice and poured it in a glass. He poured a bit of water in to dilute it more, not wanting to give the omega too much sugar. 

He came back to see Jaskier’s watery eyes as he read through the pamphlets and care papers. 

“This is ridiculous.” Jaskier said and wiped at his eyes, handing over the paper he’d been reading about tranquilizers being mixed into food so an omega doesn’t notice and gets used to the feeling. He didn’t understand how it was still legal. How it was still recommended. 

Geralt took the paper, handing Julian his plate of food, setting his cup of juice on the side table. Reading it just made him angry again, he hated drugged omegas. Doping up omegas so they didn’t scent, they didn’t heat, they didn’t have emotions. It was something Geralt just couldn’t understand. Omega’s were so perfect, who would ever want to dull all their wonderful hues. 

“I don’t believe in that. They tried getting me and Yennefer to give Cirilla tranquilizers when she first got tested and was positive omega. She was ten, it was a blood test and they wanted us to give her tranquilizers in her lunch box. We don’t believe just because an omega is an omega they need to be drugged. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with omegas feeling their emotions.” Geralt said, an edge to his voice as he put the papers down on the table with more force than necessary. He instead thumbed open a pamphlet about food best suited to help with heat recovery. 

“Do you think they would… would fix me?” Jaskier asked sadly as he picked at his plate of food. He couldn’t help but wanna shove everything down, they didn’t give him much in the clinic other than plain bread and sugar water. He ate, forcing himself to do so slowly, not wanting to gross out Mister Rivia, at least not anymore than he already was. 

“Nothing to fix. The pills they gave you would knock me in my ass. But if you think they could help you, take them. If you think taking them every four hours like they prescribed them will help, take them. If not, don’t.”  Geralt said easily. He was anti tranquilizers or sedatives, but if Julian needed them, he needed them. He would never want to make the omega feel bad for taking medication he needed. He just didn’t want to see that sparkle, the light that shone behind Julian’s eyes to dull, to dwindle away. 

“I want to try them, see if they help me sleep.” Jaskier admitted, eyes not lifting from his food. He knew most alpha’s preferred a more.. docile omega. Maybe he could be a good omega, a better omega, if he was a bit calmer. If he was quieter, more homely and timid. Someone Mister Rivia would want in his home. 

“Make sure to drink lots of water with them.” Geralt said, not looking up from the pamphlet that was slowly getting more crumpled in his grip. He didn’t like the idea of Jaskier laying in bed, dulled and dazed, dumbed to the point he was stuck between sleeping and awake. But he would never say so, never say he thought the omega was perfect as is, how he was the ideal omega, how beautiful he was when he fed into his urges, when he let himself just be who he was. Instead Geralt bit the sides of his tongue and kept his eyes down on the laminated pages. 

“Can I take them tonight?” Jaskier asked, looking up at the alpha from under his eyelashes. He watched the alpha swallow and clench his jaw before looking up at him, their eyes meeting. 

“You’re your own person Julian, I can’t and won’t make decisions for you.” Geralt said, setting the pamphlet down and walking back into the kitchen to do the dishes. He was careful and calculated with each movement. He wouldn’t make the omega feel bad, he wouldn’t push, he wouldn’t reach forward and grab the sides of Julian’s face, his soft cheeks and chestnut brown hair, and pull him into a kiss and promise to make everything right. He wouldn’t overstep, he wouldn’t push. 

Julian watched the back of the alpha’s shoulders as he cleaned the pans and plates, wondering if he could rub those shoulders. What it would feel like to have mountains of muscle under his hands to soothe and heal, if the alpha stayed warm, if he could chase away all of his alpha’s aches and pains. If it would be enough to make the alpha happy. 

He drank his juice and turned on the TV.

[scott94]

little notes as i watch the tw movie again. eventually i'll use this as meta building or something but for now....

do u know how crazy scott felt when he started seeing allison initially? he'd always see pieces of her around and in his life, at random times just reminding him of her, but when the nogitsune was released he started to literally see her. he experienced spells of heavy anxiety leading to what he dubbed "visions" of allison, but they were so much more than that; it wasn't like he was just seeing her, it was like he was hallucinating her. and it was terrifyingly sudden... he thought he was having a mental break before he knew what was going on. him seeing allison in the clinic that day was not the first time it happened.

chris argent saying "you're seeing her too." oh my god the relief that spills from scott's shoulders!! he's not crazy, he's not losing it to mental illness; it's happening to chris, too, and the experience of what chris was dealing with over the past two weeks was insanely similar for scott.

going back to beacon hills after so long away was a bit mixed for him. he hadn't been to beacon hills in many years, him and his mom had both moved away during the time scott was in college. it felt good, in a way, that his hometown needed him again. in the same breath, though, it brought back a terrible anxiety with it; scott couldn't help asking himself if this was just the beginning? if they were going to have to go back into survival mode 25/8... would life go back to what it was when he was a teenager? what a fitting way to go back, though; pursuing the same monster his pack had defeated all those years ago?

the truck the red chevy truck!!!! just.... YES, that's scott's truck!! scott's a chevy guy.... specifically, he has a 2022 chevrolet silverado 3500. it's black and red and it's a turbo-diesel and it's awesome. he also has a motorcycle at home, but i'm not sure what kind yet.

scott really, genuinely cared about allison being at peace. if that's all that happened in their stay, allison's soul being able to rest again, scott would have been happy.

when he sees allison alive again for the first time, when he was turning to leave from a ritual that he had thought might put her at peace. it was like a punch to the gut. she was cremated, he knew this, and yet she was in his arms, flesh and blood. she looked like allison, and she smelled like allison, but how could it be her? he doesn't want to trust it initially.

*tiny note that i will never write scott & allison as immediately reconnecting romantically. they do reconnect, i think, as i write them as being mates—but it takes a lot of time to get there, for both of them, after such intense trauma. and scott has had years mental growth when allison did not and that affects them; if allison was still mentally a teenager, that'd be gross. they do not just overlook it, they take the steps to grow from it and overcome it when they're ready.

the leather jacket that scott is wearing... you know the one. add steel-toed work boots.... that's his Staple post canon.

more incoherent thoughts coming soon

[markhamcarroll]

A rare sighting of the mating ritual of the FedEx truck in its natural habitat.

[sohannabarberaesque]

Now imagine what would happen if Hokey Wolf crossed paths with Hair Bear

[Not many of us Old Hanna-Barberians may be aware of the fact that the great Daws Butler voiced as much Hokey Wolf as Hair Bear per Help! ... It's The Hair Bear Bunch! using essentially the same Phil Silvers-inspired goloss, but with slight tweaking to distinguish the two. But picture, if you will, for the old mise en scene a truck stop somewhere close to the lakes country in Minnesota, where we find Hokey leading The Three Wolves (including Loopy De Loop and Mildew Wolf, not to mention Loopy's nephew Bon-Bon and Hokey's companion Ding-a-Ling, those two known as the Divin' Wolf Pups) into a summer's diving escapades on one of Minnesota's World-Renowned and Far-Famed Ten Thousand Lakes ... and the Hair Bear Bunch preparing for another season of ursine sexual escapades during their annual road trip coincident with the bear mating season, travelling among said lakes mainly "off the beaten path" for the sake of the ursine race through release of inner stresses and tensions most naturally. [As our scene opens, it's coming up on early evening, and we find the two crews--the Three Wolves in a '70's-stylee van, equipped and ready for diving adventure galore with "diver down" flags given prominent display and the wheel cover proclaiming "loud and proud" EAT, SLEEP, DIVE--including the "diver down"--and the Hair Bears in their old-school Volkswagen Campervan redone in psychadelic colours bound to make The Mystery Machine of Scooby-Doo and crew look like a Helms Bakery van--unknowingly crossing paths for as much gas as sandwiches and some requisites to get their respective vacations going....] HAIR BEAR, feeling rather contented in the prospects for ursine sex ahead: Uh ... haven't we met before? HOKEY WOLF, feeling rather fascinated himself about what could come about diving: Like what do you mean--[somewhat surprised] HAIR BEAR? HAIR BEAR, equally stunned: HOKEY WOLF--?! [Aside] And you have to imagine how our paths crossed like this, for starters! HOKEY WOLF: Or could it be just mere coincidence? HAIR BEAR: But at least we have the Ten Thousand Lakes to look forward to ... even if our interests may be somewhat different in the desire; our ursine selves, we have such fires in our loins which we can't help but seek quenching through the wonder of mating! HOKEY WOLF: And as our lupine selves, what could feel more wonderful than some SCUBA in the old school, SCUBA of a sort that could make sea wolves seriously jealous of us! HAIR BEAR: And might it surprise you that we bears like to do some diving ourselves--more than likely of the breath-hold type, just wearing our ursine selves as well, along with such specimens of female ursine desire we couldn't resist making love with the night before in the manner and fashion of the orgy! [Whereupon Square Bear joins in the discussion] SQUARE BEAR, in his legendary dopey-sounding voice: You better believe it ... inspired by the prehistoric sort of ritual orgy, by the fireside of a summer's evening beside the lake! And doesn't bear love really feel so warm and wonderful?! HAIR BEAR: I'd have to agree there, Square, but Hokey, we can't resist the sheer warmth and delight of ursine sexuality, followed around sunrise by an early-morning swim to end all early-morning swims! HOKEY WOLF: Admittedly, Hair, I can't help but take stock, as would my lupine diving compadres, of your ursine trio's interest in diving! HAIR BEAR: And just how wonderful it must feel after such all-night love sessions, and all the ejaculate bound to be released ... and the sheer warmth felt inside our mates perhaps manifesting all the anxiety and stress being let go in a most magical manner! HOKEY WOLF: Which is not to say that we wolves don't also have sexual experiences during our diving escapades! Just meet my girlfriend, Harmony Wolf! [Whereupon Harmony Wolf, a rather attractive-looking she-wolf, even with the ponytail hair stylee, makes her presence known and engages in small talk with Hokey and Hair about subjects unlikely to be of any worthwhile note at this time ... ]

[thewheelofrp]

Selene wasn't thrilled about how shocked he looked when she mentioned marriage. Of course that would be the next step. She brushed it off when he told her he wanted a wedding. "I'll have to get into the pack library to see which rituals we should honor during the ceremony.

She took a seat on his lap as she checked her phone. "The moving truck will be here soon." she announced, happy she didn't have to worry about moving all her things herself. With Everett as her mate she had the whole community willing to help

It had been such interesting days for Everett and Selene, but the beautiful woman seemed to be better and he was glad to see her in better spirits and not in a constant heat. He almost choke when Selene mentioned their future plans, he hadn't even thought about that.

"Erhm..." he said after he had recovered. "I would like an official wedding, where we can show the rest of the pack our different rituals" he nodded.

[istadris]

Just noticed, that usually cybertronian eyes are less expressive outside of fan art. Given some even have lenses or visors does not help it much. Human eyes are more expressive on average, which shows a lot more when only the eyes are visible of the face. (Good ex. would be Ghost from mw2.) Given this info, what do you think would happen if a human returned TFA Megs "up-to-no-good" face at him, or similar expressive shenanigans? Would bots/cons be fascinated by human eyes? Windows to the soul?

It's curious, I wouldn't have said that. On the contrary, just think of TFP and their dramatic close ups on eyes.

But I'll admit that given how many Cybertronian don't have "faces" or eyes or mouths, body language relies on different tactics than the humans. In many fanworks, the EM field plays a role in non-verbal communication, expressing emotions and feelings. Kibbles moving, lights flickering, etc

I'm sorry but the first thing that came to mind with your question is a kid pouting in the exact same way Megatron does when he's not impressed. And Megatron not finding it funny (but everyone else finds it hilarious, because damn, that kid is nailing the expression without even trying).

Another kid sticks their tongue out to an Autobot and they're baffled because tongues aren't a common feature enough in their social group to know what to make of it. Is it a salute? A threat display ? Do you have to return it? How do you do that without a tongue ???

More seriously, I think eyes would actually be one of the things that Cybertronians share the most with humans when in come to facial expressiveness. And given that humans lack many features of body language like the ones I mentioned before, that would actually be one of the only ways for Cybertronians to read them.

Take Optimus Prime, for example : most of his face is usually hidden under his facemask, and he does keep a lot of his emotions close to his chest, but you wouldn't call him inexpressive,

(Again I'm using TFP, but look, Optimus has such pretty eyes in it...Eyebrows for days. And you can easily tell when he's sorry for you or when he's about to kick your plates back to Cybertron).

[qqkatie]

Today we witnessed the rare mating ritual of the UPS truck.

[inlovewithhisblueeyes]

Eyes that Know Me || Chapter 1

Summary: A newcomer arrives to the small town of Hobson.

Pairing: Alpha! Walter Marshall x Omega OFC

Word Count: ~4k

Chapter Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, Mentions of blood and injuries

A/N: Here is the first chapter of my Walter A/B/O fic. I was inspired by @luciilferss take on an Alpha Steve Rogers who has a dog along with a fever dream of Henry being a sled dog owner. The title comes from line in a song called Falling Slowly.

Hobson, Montana was a small town off of route 87. It was like every other small town in the country. Hobson was the kind of town where everybody knew everybody and they were all in each other’s business. There was a healthy balance of alphas, betas, and omegas which was exceedingly rare in tiny towns. Like most towns of its size, Hobson was a place most had aspirations of moving away from in search of their elusive true mate when they were young. By the time they got older and the weight of their designation had fully sunk in, they were still living in the same house and those dreams were shoved to the back of their minds.

Generally, anyone that was born in Hobson grew up, fell in love, got married, had pups, and died there. However, it wasn’t unusual for a mate to come from a nearby town due to the school district’s athletic programming. Whether they met on the field or off, people found a mate just the same. True mates were such a rarity so most people were just happy to find someone to spend the rest of their life with. That was just how things were there and always will be.

It was the kind of town that would pass by in the blink of an eye, just another miniscule exit on the long stretch of route 87. Not to say Hobson didn’t receive out-of-towners, they just never stayed past a cup of coffee and full night of rest before getting back on the road. But when a reserved beast of man pulled his truck into town one fall afternoon, no one expected him to stay for longer than usual. There was a certain kind of sadness hidden in his blue eyes if you were able to stare into them for too long; the kind of sadness that makes a man wild in search of a balm for it.

But then one day turned into two and two into three and soon the residents had gotten used to this quiet soul. Slowly they learned about the man with Patty from Gramma Ruby’s Cafe being the main dispenser of information. He had a British accent, he liked coffee black and bacon extra crispy. His name was Walter Marshall but preferred to be called just Marshall. His third week in town he bought a place north of Central Ave and a short walk from the Judith River. It was still within the town’s limits, yet rather secluded in the vast plains.

Patty tried her best to figure out his designation after one of the younger waitresses, Sandy, developed a small crush on the newcomer. No matter how hard she tried Walter gave off no distinguishable scent. The use of suppressants was rather unheard of in this part of the country and someone existing without any scent was biologically impossible. Rumors began to fly and some of the women in town hoped and prayed that he was an alpha. This led a group of men to pray that he was a beta so there would be less competition. It seemed everyone and their mother had their opinion on the matter.

Marshall mostly kept to himself except on Monday nights when he went to the Elk Ridge Saloon for a drink. He would sit, have a beer or two, leave a good tip before he headed back up to his place. Like clockwork, he would go to Gramma Ruby’s Cafe for dinner on Wednesdays before heading to Nancy’s Country Market to get supplies for the next week. On the sixth Wednesday of his ritual, Margie the clerk caught the whiff of something on him, but it was too muted to tell further.

By the following Wednesday, it was the first time that Marshall didn’t come to Gramma Ruby’s alone. A small runt of dog was trailing eagerly after him. The little thing attached itself to her master; going as far as scrambling into the booth beside him and attempting to climb into his lap.

“Dog, no,” Marshall grumbled as he gently removed the dog from his lap and placed her on the floor.

The runt whined up at him as he looked through the menu. Once more she started the ascent to his lap before being returned again to the floor. The third time she tried Walter was ready for her.

“Dog I said no,” the man ordered and removed her to the floor.

Patty and Sandy watched the ordeal with amusement before the elder waitress made her way over to the booth. Walter was still wrestling with the dog to get her to stay put.

“You know a dog’s gotta have a name, Marshall. It might help you get her to listen to you,” Patty teased.

“The naming bit seems to be the hardest part. I haven’t found one that fits,” the alpha acquiesced as he finally gave in and let her curl up on his lap.

“I’m sure it will come to you. Shall I get your usual or looking to mix more things up today?”

“The usual is fine. Thanks, Patty.”

“Sure thing, sugar. I’ll start a new pot just for you,” the elder waitress replied before heading off to the kitchen.

By the time Walter had finished his supper, both Sandy and Patty noticed a hint of a scent on Walter just the clerk at Nancy’s had the previous Wednesday. The most distinct smell was that of the ocean during a storm while everything else was too diluted to tell further. It was the first time Walter had given off a scent to either of them. As soon as he left to go on his run to the corner store, Sandy was in a tizzy. She was a bit peeved that his scent didn’t give her an idea of designation; it still didn’t rule out if he was an alpha or not. Of course, she told her friends who then spread the word to their friends and so on until all of Hobson seemed to know about Walter’s new friend and the scent that came with it.

On his drive back up to his house, Walter was flipping through the radio stations and found himself entranced by the soothing voice of the announcer for the oldies station. The little dog was tuckered out next to him in the truck.

“Next up is a tune from one of my favorite movies growing up. Stormy Weather premiered in 1943 and tells the story of Bill Williamson, a struggling performer, who falls in love with a beautiful vocalist named Selina Rogers. Bill promises that they can be together after he makes it big yet the two end up drifting away when they both become famous. However, Bill gets one more chance to woo her at a huge musical stage show. Here's Ain’t That Right performed by Fats Waller and the gorgeous Ada Brown.”

It was then that Walter glanced down at the sleeping dog and realized he had the perfect name for her.

“Ada,” the alpha murmured, testing the name out,” Ada…Ada...Ada..”

The runt then opened her eyes and perked an ear up at him which caused Walter to bark out a laugh. Her tail was thumping happily against the worn leather bench.

“Alright then I guess your name is Ada now dog,” he agreed as he gave her a scratch on the head.

Even from an early age, Ada had a knack for tracking and chasing down the local wildlife. The first time she snuck off was while Walter had been busy chopping wood in preparation for an upcoming storm. One moment the pup had been occupied with chewing her bone beside the growing pile of wood, the next she was gone. It had taken Walter all of ten minutes to notice she was gone and he nearly had a heart attack. He had called out for and even tried searching for her in the house. He eventually made his way outside to check again and there she was with what appeared to be a dead rabbit locked in her jaws. Every inch of her was covered in dirt and grass.

Walter had laughed in relief before trying to retrieve the rabbit from Ada’s mouth only to discover that it wasn’t dead at all, merely stunned. He had to practically drag her away from the thing for a bath. It wasn’t the first time she terrorized the wildlife. Ada never killed them, only wanted to bring them back to her master. It was then Walter wanted to see how good her sense of smell was. He started hiding bones and treats for her around the property with her finding them every single time.

One night Walter was sitting by the fire on his laptop scrolling through the local news site when an article about how a lost child from a few towns over was found by a search and rescue dog. A lightbulb went off in his head and the next day he ended up calling the local search and rescue team, eager to tell them about Ada. The alpha had received information on the training sessions they would hold every weekend. The two of them went once and immediately fell in love. By the end of the summer, Ada had proven herself as a good candidate for the team. It would take another 6 months before she earned her place.

Walter ended up becoming an integral member of the team as well. He had a knack for getting even the most riled-up pups to fall into line. He started his own training camp on the side. Walter built a kennel on the property and would host dogs for a few weeks at a time to get them ready for their jobs in the field. In a short time, it seemed that everyone in southern Montana knew his name. Over the years, he helped to train over 30 dogs for local search and rescue teams and local police. He started working with them when they were a few months in order to fully maximize their potential. Not every dog that passed through his door was meant for the working dog life, but Walter made sure they would be a well behaved dog for their owners.

Ada would help to rear the recruits especially during the first few days when they were confused and missing home. She had been given four awards for her work as a search and rescue dog by the time she turned 6 years old. Ada was well known around Judith Basin County and whenever she was out accompanying Walter, she would get lots of attention and treats. Walter thought she was a godsend for she always knew when to take the attention off her master.

Over the first two years of having her, Walter’s scent was slowly coming back until one day it was in full force. There was no hiding his status as an alpha and some of the women in the town could be a little forceful. Their mothers were just as bad and would try to set him up on dates with their daughters. Walter could only handle so much of their overeagerness before he would be grouchy and worn out. Luckily, Ada was fantastic at reading him and would find a way to give him an out every time. No one could withstand Ada’s puppy dog eyes or whines for affection. Walter and Ada were content with just the two of them. There was no need to add another person to their pack anytime soon.

By now a few years had gone by, Walter and Ada were set in their routines just like the rest of the town. On Mondays, Walter would work on basic commands with the current batch of recruits before he would head to Elk Ridge Saloon for his weekly beer. On Tuesdays, he’d work on agility exercises. On Wednesdays, the alpha would start testing their noses before Ada and Walter would run into town for dinner at Gramma Ruby’s and the weekly stock up at Nancy’s Country Market.

On Thursdays, they’d work through more scent training exercises before Fridays where they’d get to run around his plot of land and really test their skills. The weekends were for meeting up with the local search and rescue team to get them used to the other members both animal and human alike. It was vital that his trainees were introduced to the idea of being handled by more than just Walter if they were destined for greatness like Ada. Rarely did they deviate from the schedule but with the arrival of a new batch of pups and a storm set to hit Wednesday evening, plans had to be adapted.

An uneasiness awoke him well before the sun rose on Wednesday. His hindbrain was on edge in a way he’d never experienced ever since he presented all those years ago. With a quick check of the weather, Walter saw the forecast had changed to alert the county from just a storm to one with a flash flood warning. Perhaps that’s what was causing his feelings of unease.

It was made worse by the fact they had just received a new batch of dogs to train on Monday. Normally they would have had at least a week or so to adjust before the storm season began to wreak havoc on the area. Between their howls and those from the wind, Walter doubted he’d get any sleep tonight.

He groaned as he got up to start his day albeit earlier than his bones were used to. To make matters worse, he only had enough coffee for one cup. Walter made a list of all the items needed from the store while he had his coffee. Once the sun started to rise, the alpha did his pre storm check around the property, making sure the house and the kennel were sealed up tight. Thankfully everything still looked solid from the last time he did repairs.

He fed the recruits and Ada before leaving her to hold down the fort. The man would have to drive to the next big town in order to get everything on his list. Hobson was too small to get its own Walmart so they had to make due with traveling to the one in Moore a little over 10 miles away. The only good things about having a truck meant he could get everything home in one trip and if the storm started early, he could drive through the puddles.

The drive over was a little congested and it seemed like he wasn’t the only one doing their last minute shopping. After so long of being rather isolated, Walter wasn’t exactly ready to be overwhelmed with all the scents. When he was on the police force back in Minneapolis, they were on suppressants and given scent-blocking patches to use. Even before moving out here, the alpha tried to avoid crowds as much as one could when he wasn’t on duty.

Pulling into the parking lot, he groaned a bit how full it was. If he wasn’t in need of coffee and other things to weather the storm, he would have turned around and left. The man ended up having to park his car all the way in the back and he prayed that the storm would allow him to at least get his supplies in the car before starting. Marshall trudged his way to the front and took a few deep breaths before all of the different aromas overpowered him as he stepped inside.

It took him until he was halfway down his list for his hindbrain to adjust to all the stimulation. The worst part of the store seemed to be the swamped checkout stations. If he took his time, he could most likely swoop in once the crowds had simmered down again. The last thing to get on his list was coffee. He was Folgers man through and through; it was the first brand he ever had, the only brand the station had stocked, and he could always find it no matter where he went in the world.

However, the one day he needed it more than ever, Walmart was out of stock. He scratched his head as he looked over his options in confusion. They had a few tins of Community Coffee left, but you couldn’t pay him enough to drink that junk. The fancy smancy coffee bags were all well stocked. The packages had so many words and phrases that he had no clue what they meant. Coffee was coffee, the more caffeine the better.

“You look a bit lost there, Marshall,” a soft voice teased from behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder to notice the little brunette waitress that worked with Patty. Sandy was her name and she was standing by her cart with a patient smile.

“You’re right, Sandy. I normally get Folgers, but they’re out so…” he replied with a shrug.

Sandy was a bit stunned for two reasons: one being this was the most he had ever spoken to her in one sentence and two most alphas don’t admit their shortcomings. She left her cart on the other side of the aisle and glossed over the available options.

“Well based on what I know of your food choices at Ruby’s, I might have a suggestion,” she uttered before grabbing two different bags,” I suggest Dunkin as a good replacement. However you tend to like the chocolatier deserts, so you might dare to try this Ethopian blend. The second one is a personal favorite of mine.”

He silently looked over his two options before gently taking the second bag from her. The man sniffed it and gave a short hum.

“Well if I don’t like this one, I know where you’ll be. I’m sure it won’t come to that. I trust your recommendation,” he offered with a polite smile.

“Now I best get my shopping done before that storm hits. I’ll see you next Wednesday. Stay safe ya hear,” Sandy chirped before grabbing her cart and leaving with a small wave.

Walter gave a wave in return and grabbed an extra bag of the blend just in case the weather turned out worse than predicted. He quickly made his way to the checkout and was soon heading back home well before the storm arrived. The rest of the day was spent waiting around and checking on the pups. Ada followed him around for a while but adjourned to hang out around the kennel.

The rain started around dinner time and was quickly followed by roars of thunder and lightning. He had fed the pups early just in case and settled down for a quiet night. Well as quiet of a night one can have during a raging tempest.

As soon as the sun began to peak over the mountain ridge, Walter began his day like always. He stretched before getting out of bed and padding across the cold wood floor to the kitchen. The man started the coffee maker as he sorted out Ada’s breakfast. He figured after last night’s storm he would have to bring the food to her. It was no bother to him for Ada was probably busy soothing the puppies since last night was their first big storm.

Once her food was prepped and the coffee started, he made his way back to the bedroom to quickly dress for the cold, wet day that was ahead of him. The scent of chocolatey goodness began to permeate the kitchen as the alpha made his way to the side door to toe on his boots. Marshall mentally made a reminder to thank Sandy for her coffee recommendation. He then filled up a cup with coffee, grabbed Ada’s bowl, and made his way out of the house.

Stepping out onto the porch into the early morning sun, he began surveying the damage from last night’s storm. Luckily, nothing seemed too out of order: branches littered the soggy ground and the roof of the kennel held up just fine. The outdoor chairs were still too soaked for him to take a seat and enjoy his coffee like normal, but he would survive.

“Ada!” Walter whistled from his spot on the porch,” Come here girl.”

His call went unanswered by Ada, but he heard the yelps and cries of the puppies. It was odd for Ada to not come when he called. She was the most obedient pooch in all of Judith Basin County. Perhaps she had gotten more attached to this round of recruits than he thought. Walter took a big gulp of his coffee before trying again.

“Ada! Ada! Here girl! Breakfast!”

Yet again there was no response from her and that had the alpha worried. He quickly finished off his coffee and set the mug and her bowl down on the porch to grab later. Marshall made his way across the yard to the kennel. He hurriedly unlatched the door and swung it open. The puppies yipped as they rushed over to the doggie gate to greet him. He turned on the overhead lights as it was too dark and in the kennel.

There in the back of the room Ada laid in front of a pile of blankets. She barely spared him a glance, too infatuated with her hoard. Walter carefully stepped over the gate and around the overexcited puppies. The six of them attempted to jump up on him for affection, but he was too determined to figure out why Ada was acting so unlike herself. Ada let out a low growl as soon as the alpha was about 10 feet away from her and the pile which led him to freeze in place completely shocked.

“Ada, come,” Walter called before another low growl answered back,” Are you hurt girl? Is that what’s going on with you?”

The man began to try and slowly approach once more with his arms up so Ada could see he meant no harm. The dog whined before quickly getting up and circling the pile of blankets. She carefully nudged some of the blankets with her nose then rushed over to her master. Ada circled around him and led Walter to the blankets with a huff.

“Alright you want me to follow you I will Ada,” he assured the dog.

He continued to calmly make his way over to the pile wary about spooking Ada back into her previously weird behavior. Once the alpha reached the pile, he was hit with the overly metallic scent of blood and he hoped that Ada hadn’t gone after the local birdlife again. Walter crouched down in front of Ada’s hoard and cautiously peeled the layers away one by one. The second to last piece of fabric contained splotches of blood and mud and it languidly moved up and down as if something was alive under it.

The man yanked that layer away and immediately was hit with a sour stench of fear, anguish, and something faint that he couldn’t quite place soaking the last blanket. He knew somewhere in the back of his brain what it was, yet couldn’t recall what on earth it was. Walter gave Ada a reassuring glance as he gripped the fabric in his hands. That layer was tossed away and the one scent he was unable to place hit him at full force...

“Omega...”

[ancha-aus]

Omg I love that! Papyrus is just a superhero with a food truck as day job! this boy doesn't sleep so it works just fine! :D His cooking is geting better too wiht all the practise so it works out amazingly! Papyrus also helped and saved so many people <3

Geno is pissed because that could be his twin's future husband and if you two snooping gods RUIN this for him Geno will make them both pay.

Error is close to crying. Because he didn't expect just understanding and patience with all his whining.

Sans isn't even kidding. Sure the names and titles Error uses? Little bit weird (he doesn't know Error really is a god) but the problems? The issues? Those Sans has heard many times before with other friends and fellow bar goers. He knows how to handle those and just helps Error take a moment to breath. To look at it from a distance and help him learn how to deal with problems that seem too big to handle.

Error is never letting go of this friend. Eventually error realises his feelings and goes to Geno in a panic

Error: Geno! The worst thing happened!

geno: what?!

Error: I got a crush on sans!

Geno: ... Error.... i think you are the last to know this. it is rather obvious.

error: ?!?!?! What?!

Dust has a plan. His other mates find the rituals notes nad are happy to help Dust collect things. dsut has plans :D

Dust, an exorcist/medium: spirit who resides here. speak.

Killer, a spirit of a serial killer who had been causing trouble: well hello there. I don't know how you got my number but i don't mind ;)

dust this close to just leaving right away again: ...

terrified family: is there anyone here?

dust: a flirty ghost.

killer winking and using pick up lines.

[spymeister]

Turns on his David Attenborough voice modulator.

“And here we see the courtship and display behavior of the two trucks. Notice how the bigger and more brightly colored mech attempts to impress the slightly smaller and duller colored mechanism in order to prove his worthiness as a mate.”

“He will mark his territory by unleashing a torrent of lubrication onto the other mechanism, showing that he has indeed claimed the other. Watch as they attempt their ritual of denial as they dance around each other- trading words as if they were gifts.”

Another clearing of his vocalizer.

“Only time will tell if their mating will produce a successful clutch of idiots.”

He’s watching all of this from the safety of his hidden den, with so much amusement.

[istadris]

Primus, a fuckton millenia ago: What the FRAG are you all doing with each other's frames?? The Thirteen, about to invent interfacing: oh you haven't heard?

personally i think that theres a lot more possibility and comedy in the idea that a) cybertronians reproducing asexually and b) cybertronians being implied to have some form of sex-equivalent are both true at the same time. like........they have no biological imperitive to do it but theyre just so buck wild they do anyway. like it has nothing to do with continuing their species, theyre just randy as hell!!! did some old ancient cybertronian person have to INVENT sex??? like hey bro what if we messed with our internal components together bro?? ha just kidding... Unless? the cybertronians come to earth and find out about pregnancy and are like i think ive seen a horror movie based on that EXACT concept what the FUCK