#and boy its hard being stealth

[daily-pokemons]

[rainrot4me]

Outrun, Undone

Summary: Your body hurt, heaving and clawing to escape. They were catching up, laughter echoing through the dense trees as you ran, praying for your stamina to hold. But you knew you weren’t fast enough, and so did they…

Characters: Masky & Hoodie x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Chasing, predator and prey, primal sex, blood, injury, fear, threesome, double penetration, vaginal fingering, anal, blowjob, vaginal, overstimulation, power play, fighting, aggression, mocking, degradation, forced submission, pussy spanking, oral fixation

Words: 8.2k

Fight or flight is described as an instinctual reaction that occurs when the body perceives a threat, rallying for survival.

Psychologically, it changes you, gripping for any out or sense of security as it pushes its own comfortability. It’s primal, animalistic, and desperate; mind clawing for any serenity. Your mind and body were screaming, like every inch of your consciousness was being ripped apart the harder you fought. You wanted to cry and scream and get away, but they wouldn’t let you. They were going to make sure you lost this bet.

The ground was damp, mulch and rocks lodged into your knees as you clattered to the dirt, heaving for breath. You didn’t remember which direction you were trying to go, but it didn’t matter as you pushed your aching body up, lunging back into a sprint. Rain and fog blurred your senses, the stout smell of wet earth suffocating you with every labored gasp. 

The woods felt like they went on forever, large pines and ominous maples cutting off your direction and forcing you into a maze, the schlick of mud under your shoes echoing with every quick step. You were soaked with sweat and rain, hair clinging annoyingly to your face and blocking your vision. Your clothes felt heavy on your skin, making it hard not to get overstimulated and tired. “Fuck-” You gasped, rounding a mound of roots to find a patch of brambles, head spinning and looking for another direction. The loud thumping of boots was heavy behind you, branches and leaves snapping as you heard hollers paired with eager laughter calling out your name, searching for you. There was no other direction. You hauled forward.

It was your fault, really. You roused them on, claiming stealth and agility were better tactics for a killer than brute force and power. The boys chuckled, arms crossed and stupid grins shining as they teased. It was always so odd to see them without their masks, especially in such good moods. 

“Oh yeah? And who says that?” Masky poked at you, leaning back into the door of the rental truck you had all lived in for the past week. This mission was exhausting, another hitman job for the Operator that you really couldn’t bring yourself to be passionate about. The boys weren’t too thrilled either. Sleeping cramped into a single cab as the only girl was devastating. The smell of no showers and lack of proper meals was getting to you now, a two-day headache pounding at the base of your skull and making you nauseous. At least they let you have the back seat to yourself.

“Uh, says the one who’s gunned down more than both of you?” You scoffed, kicking some gravel from the campsite parking lot. “Don’t you ever notice how I’m the one having to pick off the stragglers when you two come in guns blazing? I swear, you two only think with your revolvers instead of your actual brains.” 

Hoodie chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the truck bed. “These brains don’t do much thinking anymore anyways.” You rolled your eyes, “Obviously.” Looking out across the field meant for hunting, a dense treeline hung just over the clearing as the sun began to set, deep oranges and pinks pushing through the leaves. You couldn’t remember what state you were in, somewhere north and cold, early autumn setting in as the breeze whipped against your cheeks. It was going to rain tonight, you could see it in the way the leaves upturned, the thick smell of distant downpours on the bark stirring in the air. “Just saying. I could outrun you both and still have the energy to take down someone. You two wouldn’t last a second without your precious little weapons strapped to your hip.”

The boys tensed, eyes narrowing as they looked at each other, a silent challenge welling up. “How about a game then? Put your little stealth tactic to the test.” Masky huffed, a stupid grin matching the eagerness in his eyes. Hoodie nodded along, pushing off the truck bed as he stepped closer, his boots crunching into the gravel. 

“The woods out there. It’s only about fifty acres worth, but it’s dense. Good enough for hide and seek, huh?” Hoodie’s voice sounded a little more chipper than his usual monotonous one, laced with excitement and almost giddy. “We’ll give you ten minutes, put your money where your mouth is. If we can’t find you, we’ll buy you a hotel room for the rest of the trip.” You glared, heart thumping at the idea of finally getting a shower and some heat, fingers fidgeting at your sides. “But, when we catch you, and we will, who knows what we’ll ask for?” Masky shrugged cockily. “Guess we’ll be thinking about it while you’re runnin’.”

The boys pressed forward, shoulder to shoulder as they stared down at you, nauseating smiles making your heartache. You glanced back to the tree line. Crossing your arms, you rolled your eyes, stupidly accepting their bet. You were going to win, you knew you were, but all they could do was smile. “Ten minutes starts now, sweetheart.” Hoodie fiddled with his old-style military wristwatch, wiping the glass as he clicked some buttons to start a timer.

“So I just… start runni-”

“Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven…” You tensed, taking steps back before spinning on your heels, zipping your jacket up as you began to run, slipping into the trees.

-

When you began to run, that’s when the excitement truly swept in. 

The ten minutes had long passed, your feet carrying you deep into an unfamiliar forest where every tree looked the same. But you had to keep going, if for nothing else, then to create distance.

It was getting too dark to see, the sun hanging low on the horizon and dense night setting in. The silhouettes of trees stretched ahead, endless in every direction. There was no trail or path to follow, only the thick underbrush and ferns that whipped at your legs as you ran, branches scratching your skin. You had no clue where you were going.

The rain had begun as well, thick droplets soaking your clothes and face, making your hair cling to your skin. Your legs burned, muscles tensing as you dodged trees, mud clinging to your shoes the further you went, your breath already quickening. When you reached a small clearing, you paused, catching your breath as you searched the shadows, listening intently for any signs of movement. Nothing caught your attention besides the heavy patterns of rainfall, leaves, and branches whipping in the wind as you set off again, catching your pace. 

Adrenaline couldn’t differentiate this from real danger. You dealt with these boys every day, watching how they worked and killed, studying their every move. But now that you were on the other side of the fight, there was no clue just how real they were going to make it. You knew they wouldn’t kill you. They were all for bets, but they weren’t sore losers. They might catch you, they might hurt you, but they wouldn’t kill you. And, somehow, that excited you.

There was something so rousing about playing the victim for once. It made you feel vulnerable and small, but oh did it make you desperate.

Climbing over a fallen pine and sliding down the short ridge beyond it, you crouched close to the ground, pressing close to the roots and bushes as you caught your breath again. You had to think one step ahead, had to conserve your energy; any chance for a break was a good one. They wanted a chance, so you’d give them a chase. But you had to be smart too.

Snap.

You froze, slow breaths shaking as the condensation fogged at your mouth. You clenched close to the ground, careful not to move as you heard the thumps of boots more clearly now, a matching pair. You clenched your jaw, bracing your hands against the side of a tree as their voices grew too.

“Come on, little mouse,” Masky called out, the giddiness in his voice making you cringe. “You’re not very good at hiding your tracks.” Shit. The rainfall had roused the ground with mud, your imprints being left everywhere and leading right to where you crouched. You had to move.

Rain and sweat dripped off your nose, teeth clenched as you shook, the cold breeze cutting against your skin. Your pupils blew wide as you scanned the ground, snaking your body up quietly as you took eager steps in the opposite direction of the boys. The mud squelched, your body aching as you pushed off the tree, steadying your pace back into a jog to not make too much noise. You heaved, letting your pace grow the further you got, the small steps turning into a desperate sprint as you whipped through the trees, the wind burning your cheeks raw. You were panting, sucking deep breaths of air, and fighting against the strain in your chest.

“There!” You cursed, Hoodie’s voice ringing through the trees as you sprinted, fists clenched as you dug your feet into the ground. In your attempt to get away, you had done exactly what you wanted to avoid, catching their attention. You heard the sound of their boots taking heavy steps in the distance, far enough but definitely still too close for comfort. Your heart thumped, adrenaline pumping. You tried to look back, to gauge just how far they were, just how fast you needed to run. You couldn’t see when your ankle snapped against a root popped from the ground, flinging your body down.

The ground was damp, mulch and rocks lodged into your knees as you clattered to the dirt, heaving for breath. You didn’t remember which direction you were trying to go, but it didn’t matter as you pushed your aching body up, lunging back into a sprint. Rain and fog blurred your senses, the stout smell of wet earth suffocating you with every labored gasp. You groaned, palms and clothes covered in mud and grass, your chest aching from the abrupt contact. The boys howled with excitement, their chanting and loud laughs making you nervous, and desperate to get away. The worst part, however, was the fact they had now put on their masks.

The three of you had grown comfortable, there was no desire to cover their faces around each other, saving the covers for jobs. But now, the stupid masks were snugged on, concealing their expression and making this situation all the more terrifying. Now, you realize they saw you as a job, a mission to catch and take, no longer just a little game. You wanted to cry, the anger shooting through your veins as you ran, heaving for air and distance, your brain screaming to get away. They were going to catch you.

You were so used to being on the other side. You were the one chasing, the one seizing runaways. But, something about being the one having to get away, the thought of you fighting within an inch of your life against your friends. It got you stirred in the worst kind of way.

You sprinted, half-running half-sliding down the steepening slope, your shoes catching on vines and mud as you went. You had no clue where you were going or why the terrain was suddenly changing, but you continued to press forward, feet flinging out from under you as you sprinted. The slope picked up, rocks and thicker soil breaking under your steps, clattering down the side of the hill you were pressing down, leaning back to claw into the mud as you lost your footing, pummeling down. Your foot caught on a root, hauling your shoe off your foot and snapping your body with it.

You met the clearing at the bottom face-first.

You landed hard, a thick stream of water splashing against your face as you gasped. The air knocked from your lungs, rolling onto your back as the water flowed around you, the tiny stream picking up from the rain. Rocks and moss stuck to your clothes, your teeth grit as your chest ached. You had to get up, you had to keep running.

But the chuckles from above you made you whine, footsteps crunching down the muddy slope as they paced just out of your sight. “Aww, think before you run. Don’t go panicking now.” You could hear the smile in Hoodie’s voice despite your dizziness. 

Out of pure adrenaline, you shoved yourself up, looking towards the slope, but finding nothing there. You spun on your heels, surveying the trees and sides of the hill, nothing sticking out. You hissed, looking down towards your hands as dirt sunk into the cuts, your palms torn and bleeding down your wrists, mixing with the rain. Your socks were soaked with mud, your feet aching and pounding with pain as your foot had been welted raw. But you couldn’t find them. For how large and annoying they were, you couldn't find them. You had to keep moving.

Turning away from the slope, you dug your heels in, pushing away from the stream. It was hard to focus, hard to keep your mind from spinning as you clawed, legs burning every step they ran. Your head felt light, too nauseated to notice the flash of yellow in your direction. 

A hand seized around your throat from behind, the other gripping into your hair as you cried out. You flung, fighting back against the tight grasp Masky held, kicking your knees. How the hell had he gotten to you? You swung your arms, reaching back to claw at the fists wrapped around you, elbow flying back to make contact with his ribs.

Masky gasped, grunting heavily as how grip loosened, reaching for his side. You slammed back hard, taking the opportunity to shove your shoulders back, knocking the brunette off balance and releasing you. In the process, you took the chance, sprinting away and pressing through the rain, gasping as you heard his yells behind you.

Gripping the side of another steep hill, you clawed at the roots and rocks protruding from the side, launching yourself up the side of the ravine and scrambling up onto flat ground above. Your socked foot caught on a rock, slicing through the fabric and through to your skin too, making you hiss and clench your jaw. Don’t look back, don’t stop, don’t be afraid-

Hoodie grunted as you slammed into him, chest knocking against him so hard you landed flat on your ass. He wasn’t so easy, not allowing you to get back up as the taller man pinned you down. You thrashed wildly, arms and legs flailing as his fists gripped your jacket, raising your chest to slam you back down against the ground, knocking the breath from your lungs. You gasped, tired arms reaching up to claw at his hoodie, tugging the soaked cloth, and trying to reach his skin. Hoodie laughed, his fingers digging into your sides as you groaned, panting your exhaustion. Masky was following behind, grappling up the side of the hill and chuckling his amusement. You were panicking, flailing under the man as you whined. 

“Didn’t last very long at all, huh?” Hoodie mocked, pushing your legs out of the way as you tried to kick him, your hands still clawing. The man just pressed harder, reaching up to clench your jaw, angling your head closer to the ground and into the mud. It was disgusting, your pants and whines making him smile as you gripped his hoodie, feeling for anything you could use.

When your fingers brushed his pistol holstered snugly against his side, you strained your jaw, reaching as far as you could. Hoodie was focused, eyes locked onto your face as his fingers clenched around your throat, tightening excruciatingly as you gasped, head already spinning. Your breathing was labored, the intensity of his grasp faltering your reach as you strained, the eagerness in his grasp making you dizzy.

You whined, pressing your shoulder down as you finally wrapped a finger around the end, tugging the weapon out of its holster. Masky was close now too, boots crunching in the mud as your vision blurred, rain and lack of oxygen snaking a darkness into the edges of your sight. You snagged a finger around the cold metal of the gun, hauling it up and bringing it down quickly, slamming against the side of Hoodie’s skull. His groan rang, his grasp on your throat letting free as he hauled back, gripping at the side of his head. 

You scrambled up, panting breaths of moist air as you pushed back in the mud, hauling yourself up. Masky tried to press in, your hands were quick to shoot up and aim the pistol, a finger placed steadily on the trigger. The man stopped, mockingly holding his hands up and laughing, angling his head to the side in amusement.

“What? Is the little mouse scared now? What happened to all that big talk earlier?” You cringed, panting loudly as puffs of condensation clouded around your mouth. You were shaking wildly, mud and rain crusted deep into your clothes and skin, soaking you to your core. “I thought this was some game, not a real chase.” You grit your teeth, snarling your desperation through angered words. 

Hoodie was up now, looming close to Masky’s side as he watched, an expression showing he was ready to pounce. He wanted more, you could see it in the way his fingers flexed and palmed against his jeans. You shook, keeping the pistol aimed between both of them. You didn’t give them a chance to get to you again. Turning on your heels, you lunged into another sprint, chest, and legs aching at the sudden burst. The boys latched on, not giving a second thought before chasing behind you, desperately trying to match your pace. You were faster than them, but there was no way you would be able to beat them again physically. With a hurt foot and weakened body, they would overpower you in an instant.

Mocking chants and laughs echoed loudly behind you, the rain and wind snapping at your skin. You limped through every step, trying to keep a good pace as the pain began to sink in, mud clinging against your cuts. Your mind was racing, excitement and pent-up energy exerting themselves in every ache and stretch. So many times on missions you were forced into uncomfortable situations, clawing and begging to prove yourself, to show just how useful you were. 

But now, you weren’t chasing anymore. You were the one running, the one begging and sobbing to be shown mercy. Masky and Hoodie weren’t capable of mercy, they didn't know the meaning of the word. So now, the role flipped on its head, you were truly aware of just how much you needed to get away.

You swung your arm around as you felt bodies close in, gripping the pistol tight and aiming high as you took a shot. An ear-piercing ricochet rang through the trees. Curses shouted, loud gasps as the bullet whizzed past their heads, and maniacal laughter soon followed. “Shit, Hood! Mouse’s got some bite!” Masky panted, exhausted tone showing as he continued to run. Hoodie growled his approval, grappling off of trees and closing in again. You’d been a fool to think they’d scare so easily. Of course, your violence would just get them more excited.

Clattering across a stretch of gravel and mud, you cursed, the gash in your foot screaming with pain. The limp caused you to be ill-timed, Masky taking the falter and seizing you, your bodies clattering to the nasty ground.

Masky chuckled, your hair knotted in his hand as he forced you onto your chest. Your fingers dug into the mud, desperately trying to push yourself up as you flailed, pistol gripped tight. Limbs burned, lungs gasping for air as you felt a knee press between your shoulder blades before you could move. He crushed you against the gravel harder and harder. Masky pressed down close, dragging your head to the side so he could groan into your ear. Hoodie was already on you too, the sole of his boot crushed atop your hand to pry the pistol away, tossing it a few feet away. Masky’s knee pressed hard, the mask covering his expression, but you could hear his excitement all too well.

“All that running just for us to still catch you, little mouse. I say we deserve some compensation for all that work.” You clenched your teeth, tears welling in your eyes not only from the exhaustion that was creeping in but from the terrible pain shooting through your body. Everything hurt, sleepiness hanging on every limb. They must have noticed as the Hoodie knelt down beside your head.

He caressed his fingers over your skin, marveling at the softness of your cheeks cool with the rain, before nudging your jaw with his fist. “I think I know a pretty good reward, eh?” His hoodie was soaked, the usual mustard color a dark brown as Masky loosened his grip on your hair, tugging your shoulder over as his knee lifted. You tried to gauge their expressions and understand what they were so giddy about as you lay on your back, face, and clothes splattered with mud and rain. “I’d say I have to agree with you there, man.”

As Masky stood, you tried to sit up before large pairs of hands shoved you back to the ground. Your bodies pressed close, Hoodie wedging himself against your side as Masky gripped your arms, pressing them down against the rocks. That’s when you felt it, the heat in his jeans pressed against your hip, your skin exploding with warmth. You tried to look through his mask into his eyes, shimmying your hips as Hoodie did the same, gripping the side of your face to keep your head down. They were overpowering you, binding you down to submit, forcing you to stop. You didn’t want to. They wanted a fight, and you weren’t so willing to lay down and take it.

“Keep moving your hips like that and watch what happens.” Masky barked, snaking a knee between your legs as he pressed close, breathing muffled as he held you. Your body was useless, their arms and hands gripping tight and hauling you close, gasps ringing at every fist tightening. “You’ve lost, alright? Just fuckin’ give up.” Hoodie jerked your jaw, pressing your shoulder to the ground as you kicked your legs, Masky’s knee slid up against your core and held it there even when you squirmed. “Even after all that runnin’ you’ve still got energy? Fuck.” Masky angrily laughed, tugging at your jeans and undoing the buttons, your heart immediately jumping from your chest.

“Masky-” Hoodie clasped a hand over your mouth, tugging your body up against his own as he pressed beside you. Masky let go of your hands, Hoodie quick to take them in one hand, and hold them above your head as the latter worked on shimmying your pants off of your thighs. The rain made you twitch as drops hit your bare skin. “We won, remember? Gonna have to show you just what girls with big egos get, yeah? You could use a little humbling…” The hooded man smiled, snaking a hand around your throat and clamping down, your airway choking closed as you gasped. It felt like a rush, every inch of your body overwhelmed as they gripped at your skin. You were falling apart, fighting and fear leaving your body, anxiousness and excitement slowly creeping in the lower Masky’s hands dipped against your thighs.

“Every inch of you is a tease.” He snapped, your muddy jeans discarded as fingers dug into your skin. The man acted ravenous, fingernails clawing against your damp skin as he nudged himself between your legs, your head swaying lightly as Hoodie pushed his grip on your throat harder. “Been dying to get a good look.”

You couldn’t deny how many times you caught them staring. Every time you stripped down to your underwear to bathe in the creek or laid out in the truck's backseat to get some rest, their eyes lingered, awkward silence hanging in the air. It was obvious now. That same ravenous look was caught behind the eyeholes of their masks, your heart skipping as Masky hooked his fingers into the waistline of your panties. Jerking against Hoodie’s grasp on your wrists, you let your back arch off the ground, panting against the fingers gripped onto your throat as Masky slowly slid the cloth down. 

Rain soaked your face as Hoodie took his time sliding a hand up your shirt, palming at your moist skin and dragging your jacket off of your shoulders. “You’ve always had such a loud mouth, y’know that? It’d be nice to see it occupied with other things.” Hoodie chuckled, letting his fist off of your throat to slide up to your lips, your gasps and coughs music to his ears. He was quick to slide two fingers past your teeth, shoving them down to the knuckle and pushing down your tongue. You gagged, head rearing back but his fingers followed, pressing down into your throat with a cough. He let go of your wrists, snaking a fist into your hair as he held his fingers still, your throat constricting around the digits as you reached back to grip his hoodie, tugging him closer. Masky watched close, your warm cunt throbbing as the cold air ran goosebumps across your skin.

“Christ.” Masky hummed, pressing your knees apart as he adjusted himself between them, his cock constricting tight against his jeans. He slid your folds apart with his thumb, swiping the digit through your wetness and spreading it, smiling at the way your hips instinctively jerked. You whined, senses overwhelmed as you choked again, gagging as Hoodie began to pump his fingers. “If you can’t even take my fingers, how are you supposed to take my cock? Do better.” Hoodie was so much more gruff than Masky, barking his command and pushing you further than you knew he could go. The man was always the quieter of the two, his shadow-like demeanor starkly contrasting Masky’s. So when it came to primal instincts, the two flipped like a coin. Masky took a much more silent authoritative stance, while Hoodie was all bark and bite. The two worked perfectly together, you realized, in murder and sex. Perfect contrasts no matter the circumstances.

Your cheeks shot red, your eyes watering the louder you heard him huff. You tried to let your throat relax, you tried to breathe steady. But when you felt a finger screw into your cunt, forcing its way into your hardly prepped warmth, you cried out. 

Masky’s nails dug into your thighs, his knees shoving your legs open as he twisted his middle finger, angling to press up against the gumminess of your walls. “So warm, damn…” He grunted, letting his thumb press against your clit and rub aching circles against the nub. Hoodie didn’t give you a moment, however. His fingers were soon tugged from your lips as he snagged your hair back, pushing your cheek against his jeans, face-to-face with his boner. How were you going to take that? You tried to stammer, tried to press your hands on his legs, but he was already undoing his belt. “Hoodie-” You hissed, your sentence cut off as you jerked your hips up when another finger crammed itself into your tight cunt, digits spreading and scissoring you loose. Your eyes shot back and forth, focused on fingers tugging down their zipper but also on the hungry way fingers dug into your folds.

You were overwhelmed, the rain and wind snapping at every naked part of your body and sending chills. And the boys were eating you alive. 

“Wait, please- I’m sorry! Ah! I was wrong okay-” Hoodie’s palm was back around your mouth, your pants and whines muffled behind the hand as he tugged his jeans down with his boxers. Your eyes shot wide when he tugged his cock out, shoving his waistband below his balls and giving his length a few good tugs. Masky chuckled, pressing the heel of his palm down onto your clit as he rhythmically curled his fingers up, your cunt soaking them. “If you’re so sorry, then show it, sweetheart.” You gawked at the girth wrapped in Hoodie’s fist, unsure of how you were even supposed to take half of that in your mouth. But take it you would. It didn’t matter if you screamed, bled, or passed out, Hoodie was going to make sure you would melt on it.

You were trembling, as vicious as you were, you were excited. Hoodie and Masky could see it. They had no intention of hurting you, but they had every intention of breaking the little ego you held onto. You held their gaze, rain streaming down your face as you whined. “Open up.” The brunette didn’t give you much of a choice as he pressed his cock to your lips. You gasped around the tip, his hands wrapping into the back of your hair and pressing your head closer. Hoodie groaned as he went deeper, your throat convulsing around him with a barely suppressed gag. You felt like you were losing air, taking a last deep breath before Hoodie stopped, your lips wrapping tight around the middle of his girth. 

He held steady, Masky keeping you distracted with his fingers, but you couldn't fight the dizziness in your head. Hoodie drank up the way your eyes slammed shut, the way your hands gripped into his clothes and pawed for release; he couldn’t stand it. Masky couldn’t either.

When you caressed your tongue along the bottom side of his cockhead, Hoodie growled, fisting your hair tight. He snapped your head closer, pushing your throat open around his girth and tugging you back off quickly, snapping his hips back again to set a sickening pace. You choked, slobber pooling around your lips and glistening on his length as he fucked into your throat, giving you no time to breathe. You dug your nails into his hoodie, clawing for something to hold onto as he rattled your head. Every squeeze of your throat just spurred him on, the resistance only making him more eager to fuck you open and raw. “God, you must be real sorry, huh?” Hoodie growled, letting one hand shove up your shirt up and tug your bra off of your tits, gripping onto the mounds.

Masky watched, smiling wildly behind the mask as his cock throbbed against his jeans. Your cunt had soaked his fingers loose enough to slip another in, his free hand shimmying his belt undone and tugging his zipper down. The man took a shaky breath when his cock met the cold air, twitching and eager as he unscrewed his fingers from your cunt, surprised at the way your hips tried to follow them. The loud sound of slobber and gagging on Hoodie’s cock made Masky excited to hear more, pumping his cock in his fist covered with your arousal as he pressed a free hand back to your folds. “Don’t pass out now, little mouse.” 

You couldn’t hear him over the sound of your own head roaring, throat tensing and convulsing at every press of Hoodie length into your mouth. He was so rough, so aggressive in his actions, desperately clawing for more as if he had been begging for this for forever. You finally felt like you could get the hang of it, finding a good position for your mouth until-

Smack!

You nearly screamed when you felt a palm slap down on your cunt, snapping against your cunt and sending your hips shooting off of the muddy ground. Masky laughed, his fist jerking his cock as your eyes shot open, trying to pull your head back off of Hoodie’s length. He growled, snapping your head back down onto his cock and shoving your nose into his pubes, snapping at you to stay still. 

Masky raised his hand again, your stomach tightening as you watched through tear-beaded eyes when his palm made contact with your clit again. It stung, your throat grunting and sobbing as Hoodie gripped either side of your head in his hands, fucking his hips into your warm mouth. You tried to press your thighs shut, Masky shoving them apart as he slapped again, spanking your cunt and grinning at the squelch. Pained whines muffled around Hoodie’s cock as he rubbed his fingers against your clit before hauling his hand up, smacking back down to watch your hips jerk. You dug your heels into the dirt, trying to press away, but Masky’s hands were already gripped around your hips and tugging you back.

Your head was light, oxygen barely seeping through as Hoodie completely ignored your wails, hips jerking, and balls slapping against the side of your face the deeper you drank his cock down. “So good…” He muttered, gasping as he hunched over your head, driving his hips at an exhausting pace. Your jaw hurt, eyes raw with tears as you lulled your tongue against the underside of his length to desperately hurry his orgasm along.

Your mouth was so full, so warm and tight, and took the brunette the best you could. Hoodie whined when he felt his balls tighten and abdomen tense, ecstasy shooting through his body as he throbbed in your mouth and spilled down your throat. You clung to his hoodie, unable to swallow as quickly as he pumped into you, cum and slobber dribbling down your chin. You gasped as you felt the intrusion leave your mouth, desperately trying to catch your breath as seed dripped down your chin. Masky didn’t give you time, barely able to swallow before you felt a tension pushing into your cunt.

“I think you still owe me an apology, right?” The man between your legs chuckled, pushing your hips down to the soaked ground as he slowly sunk in, stretching your cunt uncomfortably. Hoodie was panting, wringing the last of his orgasm from his cock as he hauled your head up, craning your neck to face him. He shoved his mask up, the fabric bunching at his brow as his flushed cheeks glistened with sweat. You whined as you felt Masky’s cock press deeper, your walls throbbing around him as Hoodie caught your lips, breathing deep as he panted into your mouth.

“Mmn, fuck-” Masky chirped, raising your ass off the ground as he pressed against your tightness, sinking into your gooey warmth. Hoodie ravaged, gripping your jacket and shaking it off your arms, fingers tugging at your shirt until you could hear the seams popping and snapping. Masky bottomed out, you gasp giving Hoodie enough access to shove his tongue past your lips and suck on your own. Groans and whines swapped, Masky watched, stomach twirling with arousal.

He slowly tugged his hips back, your thighs trembling as you peeked out, groaning when you watched Masky slide his own mask off of his face, the object clattering into the mud. His hips didn’t get far before they snapped back, nails tugging your hips back to meet with a stifled moan. Hoodie shuffled behind you, adjusting himself to your back pressed against his chest as Masky started his drowsy pace into your puffy cunt. You whimpered with every inch, panting desperately. Your pussy gripped him tightly as Masky pressed all the way inside—before withdrawing completely and plunging back in again. You screamed, the sound choked with frantic need as Hoodie replaced his lips with his fingers again. Masky pulled your hips back, fucking mindlessly until your knees tightened around his sides. He snaked a hand between your legs and rubbed your clit, grinning as you shook from head to toe and went limp against Hoodie’s chest, the pleasure shattering you.

“Too much, little mouse?" You managed to shake your head, defiant little thing. Masky snapped his hips again, pace slowly and sickeningly increasing, thrusts getting harder but not faster. You mewled, sucking on Hoodie’s digits as he played with your nipples, massaging your tits with every heave of your chest. “Don’t get needy now, sweetheart,” Hoodie noted the way your hips craned to meet Masky’s every move, stomach tightening to get a better grip around his cock. You groaned, flexing your hands as they both laughed at your desperation. You were irritated. They wanted badly to ruin you, to make you theirs. But when it finally comes time for you to enjoy their part, they won’t let you. You felt yourself snap as you hauled your bodies forward.

Masky grunted as you shoved your hands against his chest, kicking your feet free from his hands and slamming the big guy on his back. Hoodie was quick to follow, stunned at the sudden movement but sure to find his place snagged onto your back as you straddled Masky again.

“You’re a fucking prick.” You groaned, pressing your nails into his face as your knees dug into the rocky mud-caked ground. You all were nasty, sweat and rain dripping from your brows but you were so horny it didn’t matter. 

Masky pressed back, tugging at your wrists to let off of his face. It was only when he shoved your jaw back did you saw the gleam of metal in the rain, the dark pistol smeared with mud but close enough to grasp. You pressed forward, shoving Masky’s forehead down as he snapped, Hoodie gripping your hips to drag you back.

You tried to claw, to reach the gun, but the boys were stronger. “Little cunt. You never learn, huh?” Masky barked, gripping his cock tight as Hoodie angled your hips to sink back onto the length. You choked out when they slammed your hips together, Masky setting a brutal pace up into your cunt as Hoodie pressed you down, jerking his own growing cock now.

“I don’t know where you- ah- where you get this attitude from,” Masky growled into your ear, your chest pressing down against his as he quickly tugged his cock in and out of your drenched warmth. You whined through every echoed slap, the rain, and sweat making you both slippery, and every thrust of his hips reverberating off the density of the trees. You reached out, stretching your shoulder as far as it would go to reach the pistol just at your fingertips. You groaned, pressing your sore hands into the mud for one final stretch, your index brushing the metal and tugging it in your direction. 

“Fuck you.” You growled out, tugging the gun into your hand and turning to aim it at the side of Masky’s temple. You wanted a reaction, for his pace to hesitate or his eyes to stutter, but they never did. He just kept tugging your hips down, mercilessly shoving the air from your lungs with every press of his cock against your sore walls. Your noses brushed as you stared deep into the other’s eyes, a silent challenge. If anything, he went faster.

Hoodie chuckled behind you, letting his cock slide between your ass cheeks every time they bounced in Masky’s cock. He was grunting, pressing your lower back down to get a better arch out of you. “Cute.” He smiled.

Masky glanced, acknowledging the weapon pressed so aggressively against the side of his head, but keeping his attention on you. You wanted to yell, to tug the trigger just enough to watch fear creep in, but your thoughts got abruptly lost.

Masky let your hips go, tugging a fist into your hair as he slammed your lips together. You grunted into the kiss, anger fuming between the two of you and tearing your resilience apart. The kiss was aggressive, teeth snagging on lips and tongues shoving against cheeks as Hoodie took his chance to rest his hands on your hips. “Shit.”

Hoodie tugged his cock back, your hips riding Masky on their own and setting your own pace, cunt gushing and squelching at every move. You hadn’t even cum yet, and the desperation was getting to you. 

“Stick your tongue out.” Hoodie reached between you two, cutting your kiss short as he selfishly shoved two fingers into your mouth, Masky growling at the loss. The brunette just laughed, a cheeky grin flashing as he tugged his fingers back, swiping them between your asscheeks.

You hissed, hips stuttering their pace as you felt Hoodie press his index finger against your asshole, swirling the muscle eagerly. “Hoodie.” You grit, craning your neck to look back at him, Masky letting his hand fall to your upper thighs. The brunette smiled, slowly nudging his index finger through the tight ring and making you sit up straight. Masky growled, reaching up to wrap his arm around you, tugging your shoulders back down, your neck in a headlock against his chest.

He slowly began to thrust his hips up again, achingly slow to distract from the feeling of Hoodie stretching your asshole. You wanted to growl, to fight back, but your eyes just rolled. Masky smiled as he watched the pistol slowly slip from your grasp, clattering back against the gravel as he fucked lazily up into your cunt, the warmth a lot more gooey than before. You could feel your abdomen flutter, clit brushing against Masky and sending your thighs tensing. “Please…" you moaned. "Coming… make me come…”

Hoodie craned his index, stretching the rim of your asshole and jerking your ass apart. Masky’s breath startled, resilience cracking as you came on his cock, cunt tightening and throbbing around his length. You convulsed, breath hitching as they brought you to your peak, shuddering violently in Masky’s arms. He couldn’t take it, he had to pull out.

You moaned out, whining when Masky slipped from your cunt and groaned loud, regaining his composure. Hoodie still worked your ass, the sting and stretch were painful but strangely so addicting. He let a second finger tease the rim, your hips sensitively jerking against the feeling as another finger slowly sunk into your ass. Your cunt clenched on nothing, tensing through your orgasm before Masky realigned himself, squeezing his cock back in. He could’ve come from how warm and gummy your walls were after cumming. 

“You ready for both, mouse?” You felt dizzy, head straining as Masky kept a hold on your neck, locking you down against his chest. You tried to nod, mumbling your eagerness as Hoodie successfully pressed another finger past your rim, your whine making them grin. The brunette gave you a few good tugs before pulling his fingers out, stroking his length as he pressed the tip to your rim. You groaned against Masky’s chest, biting into the cloth of his shirt as he thrust his hips, trying to give you a good duality as Hoodie slowly pressed in.

It stung, the stretch and fullness making your fingers grip into anything you could get, nails indenting into Masky’s sides. Hoodie cursed, fingers digging into the mounds of your ass and tugging them apart, trying his best to sink in through the constraint. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re tight as hell- shit-” You sobbed through the tension, trying your best to relax as both of your holes slowly filled, your abdomen swirling with waves of arousal. You felt dizzy, panting in Masky’s scent as Hoodie finally snapped in the rest of the way, the stretch making tears spill down your cheeks.

“Fu… Fuck me…” You choked out, craning your hips just enough to make Hoodie whine, nails cutting into your hips. The boys got the hint, Masky slowing down his pace to match Hoodie’s stuttered one, the brunette fighting against the constraint of your ass while he bluntly thrust. You moaned anyways, Masky’s cock snagging your g-spot and ramming there, his grin telling. He couldn’t resist leaning forward to steal a kiss again, biting into your plump lips. 

Hoodie couldn’t get over your mouth, however. He needed to be in that warmth again. So, he leaned forward, pressing his fingers against the side of your cheek and pressing them into the corner of your mouth, Masky tensing at the foreign taste. He looked like he was going to say something, but you shut him up with a plop of your hips, raising your ass up to fuck against Hoodie’s cock and ride right back down onto Masky’s. “Be nice.” You gasped as Hoodie curled his finger into the side of your cheek, tugging the skin back to make drool pool against your lips. Masky growled, rolling his eyes before snagging your lips again, loud groans and hisses panted into the other’s mouth. You felt so full, holes stuffed so nauseatingly well you could feel the way their cocks brushed together inside of you.

You could feel it again, the way your gut clenched. Masky clenched your thighs, his cock aching inside of you as Hoodie snapped his hips, riding close to the edge again. You tried your best to angle your hips back, giving them both the best angle to tug their cocks in and out. “‘M coming- Fuck! Please, please, please…” You panted through every snap of their hips, their cocks squeezing and stretching your holes so wide you knew you were ruined for anyone else. Your head was so tired, cunt throbbing and aching for release the harder they went, chasing their own.

“Pull out, Hoodie…” Masky choked, getting the last few thrusts he could as he felt you tightening, his cock teetering dangerously close to the edge. Hoodie whined, the tip of his cock popping in and out past your rim and dragging him closer too, both of the boys a whining grunting mess with you sandwiched between them. “Ma- Masky… Hoodie…”

Both of your holes clenched down as you came, the intensity of your orgasm washing over you so strongly that your eyes lulled to the back of your head. Your stomach twisted, the knot unraveling as you released on their cocks. Masky moaned lowly, biting into his lip as he forced his cock out of your swelled cunt, ropes of cum dripping from his tip as he stole your lips. Hoodie followed quickly, pushing your ass off of his cock as he started fisting his length quickly, pumping tight at the base to shoot his seed across your back. He whined through his orgasm, smearing his cum across your ass and lazily smiling at his work.

You all panted, shoulders slumped and bodies sore. You felt like you couldn’t move, every muscle inside and out aching from the exertion you had gone through.

Rain still poured, the chill seeping into your bones as you shook, water and sweat dripping from your nose. You felt so spent, cunt and ass ruined and throbbing wildly as you let your head go limp on Masky’s chest, the man grunting underneath you. “Fuck…alright, mouse.”

You were far too sleepy to care much as they shoved their limp cocks back into their jeans, everyone’s clothes soaked and cold as Hoodie wrapped his arms under your limbs, hauling you up. “C’mon, sweetheart…” Even they sounded tired. 

-

You slipped in and out of sleep on the way back to the truck, Masky collecting your items as they went and tossing everything into the bed as the engine roared. Hoodie laid you in the backseat, climbing into the passenger as Masky peeled back towards the interstate. You were too tired to ask where you were going.

You only stirred back when the obnoxious luminescent lights showed into the truck window, blinding you. You squinted, tossing your hand in front of the light as you sat up, the backseat suddenly opening.

“Don’t make me regret buyin’ this,” Masky growled as he tossed a blanket towards you, you just now realizing how nasty with mud you all were. You smiled as Hoodie helped you out, shuffling you close to his side as the boys dragged you around to the shabby door of the motel they had found. You flinched as you remembered your foot, the crusted blood and mud staining the underside of your sock as you limped through the rusty door.

It wasn’t anything nice, definitely not five stars.

But as you three tugged off your clothes and cleaned as much of the mud off as possible, it didn’t matter. The boys cringed at your cuts, mumbling their apologies and helping you clean them up, too. Exhausted, the three of you crawled into the way-too-small bed, the boys on either side of you as they cradled in, sticky and sore body parts finding their comfortable spaces. 

It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was better than sleeping in the back of the truck. You smiled when their breathing labored, faces cradled into your shoulders while you slowly blinked your sleepiness away. You didn’t want to acknowledge what this night might mean for the future, at least not tonight. You’d much rather sleep.

But as Masky and Hoodie slid their arms around your torso, legs interlocking as you all finally relaxed, maybe it didn’t seem so bad anymore.

You’d have to learn to watch your tongue, though. For your sake.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thank you to my wonderful editors: @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[subspaceanonymous]

SUBSPACE ANONYMOUS RETURNS!!!

with a forsaken au. ive told @faunify about this. now ive only doodled it so i havent done much but i call this

FORSAKEN: Open Fire its an au that doesn't necessarily take place within the purgatory hellhole that theyre in but instead the survivors are in a group that take down glitches, viruses, and hackers. the spectre has the killers on its side and wants them to destroy robloxia while mr big man roblox itself has the survivors on their side and wants them to defend the place.

info dump down below

So, you've chosen to listen to my information dump. Very well then....

Be aware that this is full of dumb fixation ramblings. Anyways, FORSAKEN: Open Fire is an AU that, as stated above, doesn't take place in your typical place. Our main character of this AU story is Noob. They join up with a group of characters with varying different personalities in order to keep the peace.

They're divided into different categories: Survivalists Supports and Sentinels

These varying categories gives each of them a certain title. Starting off with the Survivalists.

Noob and 007n7 are the main two survivalists while Two Time is only a volunteer and plays more like a vigilante than anything else. They still see Two Time as an ally and considers them their "S3" (Aka Survivalist 3)

Noob is considered the first survivalist due to their constant work with the team despite them only being an intern. They had joined out of random when they saw the advertisement saying, "Help Needed!" and Noob considered that they needed the experience, so they went into to help only to discover that they were offering their help to the admins. The Admins formed this group due to the increasing influx of glitches and viruses as well as the hackers and threats that are roaming about. Noob is mainly used as a distraction but is really good with stealth.

Two Time is a simple traveler who preaches their cultish readings of the Spawn to anyone who wishes to hear it. Two Time remains mysterious, and no one really knows where they came from. They have no known family or friends and zero connections. Some make up rumors that Two Time is a hacker who hasn't caused much damage yet due to having been pleased with everyone. They've become an urban legend amongst most Robloxians. They're never called upon by the group but instead only assists whenever they're around.

Finally, 007n7. He's a notorious ex-hacker who had retired and lived in hiding for ages after being blessed with his son, c00lkidd. He spent ages caring for the kid the best he could and actually managed to remain stable. His hacking habits never left him as he would just hack in money at times to provide for his son and whenever he did have to work, he usually had his clone babysit. One day, however, his son was taken from him by an unknown force. No matter how hard he tried to fight to bring him back, he ended up failing. This made him feel shut in for years. He made an AI called "c00l2kidd" that takes the likeness of his beloved son in order to help him search for his missing kid. The reason why he is even with the group is due to blackmail. Builderman had heard of 007n7's connection as well as his run in with the chaotic force of the Spectre and wanted him to join. 007n7 declined, just wanting to focus on finding his son. Builderman was willing to take that answer, but Shedletsky had other plans. 007n7 was promised safety from being banned for all his past wrongdoings and crimes if he joined the group and if he declined, he would be sent to the Banlands. 007n7 gave in and joined the group but still remains in his home, working overtime for himself and for the group.

Supports - [DUSEKKAR IS DUE FOR A REDESIGN]

The category that is taken over mainly by the admins. Elliot is there just for the fun, lol.

Elliot was your average pizza delivery boy, pizza chef, and friendly neighbor who had been blessed with something that no one else really had. He had the innate ability to heal whether it was through food or just through general magic, Elliot was an excellent healer. He had heard about the group needing help and considered that he could, perhaps, assist them in their work. When entering the interview office, it turned out that a rogue glitch had followed him inside and began causing carnage all over the place. The admins were able to neutralize it but not without getting injured. They couldn't die but they could very much sustain injuries. Elliot by his nature, rushed to heal the trio. The admins saw Elliot's skills in healing and were impressed. They granted him the role of "SP1" or "Support 1" in which he will be the resident doctor.

Builderman and Dusekkar are admins created by the big boss man Roblox. Roblox is a giant robot that had created the small fellows and granted them their abilities to protect the lives of other Robloxians.

Builderman was always very creative and built almost everything by himself. There were some things made by Shedletsky and Dusekkar here and there, but Builderman worked tirelessly to create the cities that they all live in now. It was actually Builderman's idea to form the group and it was Dusekkar's idea to ask for help. Shedletsky is there for the lols.

Sentinels - [CHANCE AND SHEDLETSKY ARE DUE FOR REDESIGNS]

The Sentinels are the main ones out there doing work of actually putting an end to the glitches and viruses. Supports and Survivalists are meant for aid and herding while the Sentinels actually do the erasing and killing.

Guest 1337 is a former soldier who now lives peacefully with his wife and kid. While, he isn't up to be in that line of work, Guest understands the dangers of these creatures roaming and stalking, waiting to hurt or kill any Robloxian that walks around innocently. He mainly joined out of the wish to protect his family . He still gets to stay at home and watch his family to make sure that they're safe but he still has to be present whenever there is an issue going on. Guest and Builderman are actually friends and Builderman invites Guest and his family to dinners and Guest usually shows up with his family.

Shedletsky is an admin who doesn't take the job very seriously. They enjoy creating and playing games but they're rarely ever actually doing their job. Shedletsky has always been laid back and chill but no one ever really trusts him enough to handle things with care. This carries over to Chance who he's managed to become friends with.

Chance is the owner of a Casino that was the entire reason why he joined the group. They believe that if they work with the big leaders of Robloxia then the popularity will skyrocket and that just means more money for Chance by association. It's an interesting plan that was actually brought up by Shedletsky so Chance joined and became "ST3".

I don't have designs for the killers yet, but I will when I get down to it. Asks questions if you wanna. Inbox is always open.

[cod-thoughts]

What about silly pricenik?

This is great i love sharing dumb headcanons ive got hehe. Heres some i have in my notes! These are most of them! Rest is under the cut there was...a lot 0_0

Nikolai

Despite being a fantastic pilot, Nik has a horrible sense of direction on the ground. He once got lost in a massive tesco's and refused to ask for help, claiming he was “scouting the exits.”

Nik insists on making every departure as dramatic as possible. Helicopter pickups? Cue the music. Leaving a room? He slams the door just right so it echoes.

Nik’s sense of humour is as dry as the desert, and he can deliver the most absurd statements with a completely straight face. Soap once believed for an entire day that Nik had a pet bear named Boris. Nik gifts Soap a stuffed bear with a note that says his name is Boris for secret santa two years later too.

Nik collects tiny, odd souvenirs from missions—a bottle cap, a rusty coin, a piece of scrap metal. His pockets are always jingling, and Price swears he’s part magpie.

Nik is surprisingly good at poker and never misses a chance to challenge the team. His poker face is so good that even Ghost has a hard time reading him.

He won’t admit it, but Nik has a soft spot for cheesy romantic comedies. He does drag Price to watch the opera, theatre or musicals and Price loves it because Nik is so happy there however, Price refuses to watch a single rom-com "Sorry, Nik, love can only do so much."

Nik can MacGyver his way out of almost anything. Once built a makeshift flare gun out of a broken torch and a rubber band. It worked—just barely.

Nik’s rucksack is always bursting with random things—extra batteries, half a loaf of bread, a flask, and tools for a job no one asked for. Somehow, it all ends up being useful.

He has an entire list of mission rituals he swears by, like tapping the side of the helicopter before takeoff or wearing the same lucky socks on dangerous ops.

His voice booms like he’s addressing a crowd. Gaz calls him “The Walking Megaphone.”

Nik has a habit of keeping little mementos—like the first time Price scrawled mission coordinates on a scrap of paper for him, which Nik still keeps in his jacket pocket.

He once made a playlist for Price that was entirely love songs in Russian, claiming, “It’s all about the vibe.” (yeah, sure nik. Price looked up some of the lyrics and blushed furiously before finding nik and making some of the lyrics come to life...)

Even in the worst situations, Nik finds a way to keep spirits up. He once cracked a joke mid-firefight that had even Ghost smirking.

Wherever they go, Nik seems to have a knack for charming the locals. Whether it’s his booming laugh or his easy smile, he somehow ends up with an invitation to dinner by the end of every mission.

NikPrice

Nik insists on picking Price up for missions in the most inconvenient places possible (when he can)—like rooftops, narrow alleyways, or middle-of-nowhere fields. Price grumbles about it every time, but Nik calls it “adventure pickup.” The boys love it just because it annoys Price.

They’ve worked together so long they don’t need words to communicate during a mission. Nik swears it’s because they’re “two halves of one operational brain,” to which Price always mutters, “God help us all.”

Nik once stole Price’s hat during a mission and refused to return it until Price called him “the best pilot in the world.” Price begrudgingly complied, but Nik still teases him about it.

Nik has a habit of doing absurdly dramatic favours for Price, like flying halfway across the world to deliver a forgotten map. When asked why, he always shrugs and says, “For you, John? Anything.” (Price eventually realises its not cause Nik can, its cause Nik wants to and he finally puts them both out of their misery and asks him out. Price thinks this will stop Nik, it in fact does not)

Their comms during missions are half professional, half flirting banter. Soap and Gaz are constantly muting their headsets to avoid laughing during stealth ops. Ghost is just used to it at this point.

Despite the chaos of missions, Nik has a way of carving out small, quiet moments with Price—whether it’s a cup of tea at dawn or sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in silence on a rooftop, sharing a flask.

Nik isn’t overly demonstrative in professional settings, but his gestures still speak volumes—brushing a speck of dust off Price’s shoulder without a pause from Price, straightening his collar too, or resting a hand on his lower back as they move through crowded spaces. When it's just them or them and the team though? Nik is all over Price, extremely touchy, does not care if Price is bright red or the team make fun of them for acting like teenagers. He is touching his Captain.

Nik knows every scar on Price’s body and has a story for each one. Price doesn’t like talking about his injuries, but with Nik, he doesn’t mind. Nik tells him his own tales in return, trading battle marks like old soldiers comparing medals.

Nik insists Price’s coat is impractical for cold weather and always drapes his heavier jacket over Price’s shoulders without asking. Price protests half-heartedly, but he never takes it off, it smells like Nik and leather, what's he supposed to do? Not tuck his nose into the collar and smell the familiar scent of his partner?

Their eyes do most of the talking. On missions, one look is all it takes to communicate everything—from reassurance to affection to, occasionally, “I’m going to kill you for that stunt later.”

[dtfpeta]

Domesticity with Price...

(a/n: yes I want to make my lover a home cooked meal. yes I want him to wrap his arms around me while I cook. also I was this close to putting nsfw but I may just make a part two)

tags: husband!price, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, f!reader

Word Count: 1.8k __________

Price who comes home to his doting wife standing in front of the stove. A roaring pot of boiling water being salted by your delicate hands which form a harsh pinch on the granules before releasing them into the porcelain dish.

He watches from the door as you slowly canter your hips, humming along to the soft melody of Al Green from your distant record player. His cheeks contort with a smile when he hears your abysmal attempt to recall the lyrics. Startling you out of your unaware serenade when his hands catch in the fabric of your dress to wrap around your waist.

"Smells good." He comments regarding the dish. His face is buried in the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of garlic, rosemary, and other spices that coat the house in its aroma. Your own fragrance of vanilla overwhelms his senses as he sighs into the crook of your neck.

"It's not nice to sneak up on someone like that..." You chastise, knowing the irony that lies in your statement being as stealth is not something your husband is unaccustomed to. "Could've burned myself." You add, half-heartedly scolding and rolling your eyes as his arms tighten their purchase on your hips.

On the stove lies a pot boiling with its now added component of rigatoni. To its side is a sizzling pan that has been providing the house with its encapsulating smell. John eyes the skillet. The melted butter works to caramelize the now translucent onions coated in sparse flakes of red pepper and rosemary. A wooden spatula wielded in your hand stirs the minced garlic cloves, doing your best to prevent their quick to burn nature.

Price loves your cooking and you love to cook for him. Seeing as his face melts into bliss when he tastes what magic you have cast on something as simple as a chicken pot pie. Or the way his eyes bulge when you reveal that a dish he has been scarfing down like a starved dog over the past several months contains mushrooms.

Ever since that day, he has not once argued about an ingredient in your cooking. Even as he eyes the tomato sauce being added to the pan, knowing he is going to suffer a severe case of heartburn but almost welcoming it, as he knows it will accompany an array of flavors he will be holding up his plate for more of.

"M'sorry love." He relishes. "Been looking forward to this all day. N' watching you from the door just made me miss ya' even more."

You scoff at his cheesy comment, placing your left hand to rest on his forearm that is draped around you as your right stirs at the still hard noodles.

You lay your utensil down and lean back into his embrace. Closing your eyes as you feel your bodies link together like a puzzle. One piece being a head taller than the other, but fitting together nonetheless. You sway with your husband to the tempo of the song playing in the background. His body is warm against your back, being stripped of his tactical gear and left in a black cotton shirt tucked into the waist of his same toned cargo pants, the legs of which are folded above his combat boots.

"How was work?" You ask, eyes still closed and body entangled in him. He regards your question with a low hum, feet lightly stepping side to side.

"Hm, the usual. Told some of the boys we could treat em' to dinner sometime. Be nice to get together, maybe show you off a lil'?"

He lightly pinches at your sides while pulling you closer to him. The scruff of his beard dances against your skin as he attacks your neck in quickly scattered kisses.

"John!" You laugh while attempting to distance yourself from his assault. Only to be swiftly turned around where you find his blue eyes smiling fondly at you. The warm tinted light from a nearby lamp casts soft shadows on the crows feet that crinkle near his eyes. The edges of his smile lines sharpening the more he beams at you.

There's not a place on Earth he would rather be.

For the longest, he distanced himself from love. Only finding that unachievable compromises would be asked of him, and due to his work, he was never able to fulfill those wishes. It only put a strain on his and his partners' relationship. He learned to deal with the lack of intimate companionship over the years. Just having the bond of his brothers in arms till he would return to his empty flat and scrounge up whatever microwaveable dish hadn't gone freezer burnt or remnants of leftovers left in his barren refrigerator. Until he met someone he could incorporate into the unpredictable schedule of his life.

The first time you cooked for him he was floored. Joking about how he'd have to hire you as his personal chef and saying how he could only dream of coming home to this every week. You had brought the ingredients to his apartment, insisting that you would treat him to a hot meal if he helped you, which he gladly agreed to. He stood slicing carrots and celery while you stirred a pot of chicken stock, placing sprigs of thyme and bay leaves into the broth as the chicken roasted in the oven, soon to be shredded and added to the pot. Said pot being three times bigger than your head.

"You trying to feed the whole squadron?" He'd teased. To which you only responded with a light snicker, knowing that in making such a large portion would provide him with leftovers for the rest of the week-and then some.

Several years later you now stood in your shared home, a simple wedding band adorning the both of you two's hands. Price's socks litter the shared space until you have to reprimand him to pick them up. Him responding with his own accusations of how you frequently leave your bra on the couch as well as your adversity to keep your hair ties in one place. What can you say, it's just more convenient when they're around the house.

The two of you's cleaning habits aren't the only thing that could use work though. The decorations are an obvious clash of one person who enhances the space with homely, comforting pieces, and another who has a hard time letting go of secondhand artifacts. And after Price's constant defense of his 'live laugh love' banner hanging on the wall of the kitchen, you began to give in to the cliché relic.

A more than familiar tune begins to play from the record player.

"Oh my God" Price's teeth shine through his grin as he picks up on the melody as well. It's the song you shared your first dance together to.

His coordinated hands move to your hips, your own responding by wrapping around his neck. You gaze up at him. The quickening of your heart makes its frequent appearance as he looks down at you. The butterflies you feel every time you look at him have yet to diminish their strength over the years. Even as you heard stories of the dreaded period following the honeymoon phase where couples do nothing but bicker, your heart remained the same.

The only thing you can focus on is his hickory-toned voice humming to the lyrics of the track. The vibration rumbles through his chest, making its way to your ear resting upon him. He sways with your body against his until you are replicating the dance from that night. Since that night he has always made it apparent you were his first priority. He protects and serves you, as you have brought a peace to his life he didn't think was possible.

"Y'know on my way home," he began "saw this woman with her kid. Maybe 5 years old. He was sitting on a bench while she was on the ground tying his shoe. He was swinging his leg, reading some comic book to her. Poor lasses feet barely touched the ground!" He lets out a breathy laugh before pausing for a moment. "Just got me thinking."

"About?"

"Bein' a dad." He stated, kissing the temple of your face. "Making you a mum."

You smiled into his chest. John knew you wanted kids, and he did too. The time just never found itself convenient. And even now there are uncertainties, but the knowledge you have that John would be an excellent father left you planting seedlings of the idea in his head when you had the chance. Passing by a pair of cute baby shoes in the store. The ring of adolescent laughter when you'd visit the aquarium. Or even a dress you would buy, waiting for your husband to compliment it before mentioning the garment worked as a maternity piece too.

Something had been pulling at his paternal strings lately, however. He yearned to fill the house with the both of your makings. Leaving your marks in its foundation. Whether that be with the rug you both haggled for at the flea market. The broken spring of your living room couch, product of an intense wrestling match between you two. (In which both parties were considered victorious by the end.) Or the poolhouse-toned blue paint that made its acquaintance on the crown molding of your bedroom wall. (Also caused by some spout of play fighting or whatever attempt Price had to get his hands on you.)

You leaned back to search his face, only finding a look of great fondness pulling at his features. Your palms came to cradle the sides of his face before a smile stretched on your own.

"Yeah. I think I'd like that." You brought his lips to yours, embracing him in a tender touch as you laughed into the kiss. Your hold on one another tightened. Knowing that Price was ready to take such a giant step now made you giddy as you imagined him holding his future child, playing make-believe with them, and cleaning up their bumps and bruises from playing in the yard.

"Can't believe you're saying yes to a baby before a dog, John." You both laughed before you turned your head at the smell of burnt garlic.

"Shit!" You quickly grabbed a wooden spoon to stir at the red mixture before turning the stove off.

"Don't tell me you lost your touch already, sweetheart?"

"You were distracting me." You declare, pointing your spatula at the towering man. "Just get the bowls from the cabinet and set the table, yeah?"

"Of course, hun." He mocked.

You glared a burning look into the back of his before he did as instructed, your temper cooling as you poured the pot of soft noodles into a strainer.

You and John were able to turn a house into your home. Soon the floor and walls would be sheathed in memories of your family. One of the first being your dinner of a burnt tomato rigatoni pasta.

[nerodivergentgrimreaper]

Dad Milo HeadCanons

Dad Milo is the KING of food introduction. He grew up with a lot of food insecurity so he wants his kids to feel comfortable around food and he wants to make sure that they know they are allowed to dislike things and don't have to finish their plate if they are full

Dad Milo tends to leave most of the discipline up to his mate as he's scared that his discipline could make his kids scared of him (poor boy is traumatized)

Dad Milo always prioritized communication, even going as far as to make sure his kids can identify their emotions as his own emotions weren't taken into account by his dad when he was a kid

Dad Milo loves to wake his kids up on saturday mornings to watch cartoons and eat sugary cereal

Dad Milo used to call his first born "Little Wolf" but stopped after Sweetheart voiced their concern about their kid getting their hopes up about being a shifter only to be a stealth instead

Dad Milo then proceed to sit their kid down and tell them all the great things about both magic types and made sure the kid understood that they could get either magic type

Dad Milo who's core beams with joy when his kids crawl into bed with their parents in the mornings. Watching his family cuddled up is in his opinion the greatest thing in the world.

Dad Milo who has insecurities about if he's a good father but they are immediately killed when his kid comes home with a "my hero is my dad" assignment from school. 

Dad Milo who lets his son wear his favorite purple light up sneakers despite his dad's comments about how they are "girl shoes". (he thinks its stupid because his son likes the shoes cause they light up and are his favorite color, they make him happy and that all that matters)

Dad Milo who comforts his mate when they question if they are present enough. Who reassures them when they start to question their parenting. Who is so proud of them for working hard to keep their life balanced.

Dad Milo loves being shifted so his kids can cuddle up to his wolf form while they all watch movies

Dad Milo just being a great dad

[bullfrawgs]

I just read 45k words of trans Death Note fic

And I need to talk about it. @catboymettaton 's "Would Estrogen Save Light Yagami" is a masterpiece. It has an incredible understanding both of what makes Death Note work as a series, and more importantly a rarely seen part of the transgender experience :tm: put on primary display.

Analysis and Link to the fic under the cut

Death Note is, at its core, *incredibly* camp. There is no way to discuss the Potato Chip scene without discussing its use of heightened melodrama to get a laugh at what should be (and is!) an incredibly dramatic part of the series' cat and mouse chase. A lot of the series' most powerful moments are ones that are undercut (I would argue intentionally) for humor by the sincerity of its drama. Granted, I have not watched Death Note (beyond a 3 episode viewing in Anime Club) in almost a decade. But neither am I caught up in Fandom interpretations. When I think about Death Note at all it is almost entirely through the incredible youtube videos of people putting Light and L into different, sillier, confrontations and watching the drama as each of them tries to calculate a reaction. All reactions falling on the axis of being In/Out of character for Light Yagami's persona as Light Yagami, 18 year old college boy, and the axis of Matching/Dodging the presumed psychological profile of the serial killer Kira, all balanced on the knife's-edge third axis that Light is too much of a try-hard to ever just admit he was wrong or didn't know something, rising to the bait every time when the only winning game was not to play.

But that's just Death Note proper. The comedy of the parodies comes from the same camp as the source material, sometimes with a heightened comedy poking fun at how abstract the topics of these verbal jousts can be. Would Light Yagami like Charizard more? Would only a serial killer be a fan of Chikorita?

Which brings us to what makes Would Estrogen Save Light Yagami so brilliant. By ""pretending"" to be a trans woman (genuinely unironically a way better plan than his in-canon plan of reading a playboy while looking disinterested and fully clothed for 20 minutes) we get an entire extra axis to our silly verbal jousts. If Light Light, is Light Kira, and is Light Trans? She needs to drop hints to her transgender status, while not being so obvious that they are disregarded as a Kira ploy, but not so unsubtle that they go ignored as a dropped Kira ploy. And the secret morphing from fake decoy secret to real secret to eventually just out and public trans status redoubles these stakes yet again.

What Catboy Mettaton has done is write an incredible story making fun of essentially my life for the past 5 years. I started Estrogen 5 Years Ago, and then went about hiding that I was doing so, while trying to prod for tiny hints to see if it was safe to come out. As it turns out, everybody from my classmates at the religious college I was only at for literally a month after starring E, the congregants of my transphobic church I've since left, and basically every member of my family have individually deduced that something *like* "me being trans" is going on, but nobody wanted to talk about it so I spent the whole time thinking I was just really good at being stealth. The entire time, I was trying to navigate being true to myself and living in a way that made me genuinely comfortable (and advanced my plans of being a serial killer) and doing/saying things to assuage suspicion. "Oh no, somebody might be catching on, quick, say something normal and masculine" "So uhhhh how about that Sports Ball, huh?" "Nailed it".

Frequently the closeted life (which, reminder, I was incredibly bad at) felt like the exact sorts of cat and mouse chases seen throughout the front half of the story, and catching that parallel and plugging it back into Death Note is a work of pure genius.

This is the primary, but not even the only, form of extremely clever parallelism in the fic, especially in the front half. The forum posts debating Kira's gender wouldn't seem out of place directly adjacent to discourse surrounding any of a dozen transgender or gender-ambiguous characters in Japanese media (Lily Zombieland Saga, Brisket Guilty Gear, Astolfo Fate, etc).

Anyway I've now written about 800 words about a fanfic, and I have another tangential thought to throw into a reblog so I should probably do my homework or something.

10/10, would recommend, I laughed like a dozen times, I nearly cried at the ending, I'm ravenously waiting for the next major continuation.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60164230/chapters/153525865

[wolfertinger]

anons really shouldn't focus too much on early FA salem art and what it means about him and wis' relationship/changing views. you gotta keep in mind this was also a period where he was trying to hide as puppychan after being racist and talking inappropriately with kids got him kicked off twitter. he was trying hard to not be caught as puppychan, so his furries are skinnier, his art is higher effort and more rendered, and he makes a bunch of logs about doing actual activities like going to college, and its also his official public transition into being a transguy, etc etc. The arts still is his and hes still does a lot of things he liked obviously (such as well, the furry porn) but a lot of things like drawing skinnier people was probably less shame or his 'real' preference and more that puppychan did not draw skinny furries lol. I do believe that the presence of more masc characters could have been both because of puppychan's focus on feminine sexy characters (so a bit of stealth there, people literally would joke that puppychan didnt draw men) but also an genuine exploration of masculinity for a trans guy very early in on that where he didn't know where to start on his own transition/what he wants out of being a boy and such.

i do think, his ability and eagerness to lie in his early fa days, is important to note. as it shows he will lie, down to the minutiae of his identity, with total confidence. though, i can agree, with most of this post.

[irradiatedpiratebooty]

Its always so strange to me when people make a long list as to what's "clockable" for stealth trans men or transmascs.

I've seen lists like-

- long hair

- stretched ears

- any face piercings of any kind

- patchy facial hair

And its just baffling to me. Because well-

I have long hair. Why? Because a lot of the men around me growing up also had long hair. Boys in my class had long hair and mullets.

Yeah, I'm stretching my ears. Has nothing to do with popularity though. I started doing it because I appreciate the dedication behind the body mod. That, and I listen to a lot of bands that have singers who do the same thing (both men and women). I also enjoy the jewelry, as I'm not a big "gemstones" kind of guy.

"any face piercings of any kind" do you hear yourself? They've been popular for decades! Look at old biker men, they love their piercings.

And patchy facial hair. Where do I even start with that. Anyone who can grow a beard has a phase of patchy hair. Facial hair doesn't begin to properly thicken until, on average, 25 years old. (Of course there's exceptions to this). This isn't a trans only thing. How in the hell is this "clockable".

Stop demonizing trans men/transmascs for shit that's not even strictly a trans thing.

I understand that being "clockable" isn't inherently a bad thing. But for men trying to be stealth, who prefer being stealth, its something we try very hard to avoid. Mostly for safety.

And so, singling out things that aren't really unique to trans men, just feels like shaming us for experiencing a late puberty.

Or just shaming trans men/mascs for having a personality, and expressing that, rather than trying to hide away in the shadows away from the public perception.

[starlitangels]

Some Redacted Characters Playing Phasmophobia Headcanons

For any of y’all who don’t know, Phasmo is a kinda glitchy ghost-hunting horror game where ya gotta gather evidence to figure out what kind of ghost is haunting the “map” go watch someone play it, I think it’s hilarious

I’m not gonna play that game myself but I can watch others play it no problem

Shaw Pack

David straight faces through everything. Never sounds scared over the voice chat

Angel is laughing right next to him because he does have a death grip on their leg

Asher never turns his radio off so everyone can hear him at all times

Is also 100% fearless and knows all the background lore hints by heart

He still screams if he gets got by the ghost though

Milo. Yelps. At. Everything. And jumps

Like seriously if Asher puts something down too close to Milo, he will jump

Sweetheart is sitting nearby laughing their head off

Darlin’ plays with their mic muted unless absolutely necessary so their packmates don’t hear them yelp when something startles them

However they are also very efficient and ridiculously lucky when it comes to hiding and surviving hunts. Even better than Asher and he’s totally not bitter about it

That said Darlin’s not afraid to let the ghost get them in order to mess with the others by leading the ghost right to the boys

Milo’s totally not holding a grudge over it

The mates also have nights where they play together but Sam is kinda grumbly so his mic and controls are co-piloted by Darlin’

When the mates play together Angel always charges in headfirst, bold as brass, and ends up somehow doing most of the work and not dying even when their sanity stat plummets. They ignore almost all of David’s advice sitting next to them because they’re better at the game than he is

But they also scream and jump a lot more (most of it for show to entertain their friends who always get a good laugh out of it)

Despite being almost as good as Asher, Baaabe almost always gets got by the ghost first

Usually because the ghost was chasing Sweetheart and true to their Stealth nature even in a video game, they broke its line of sight and hid and the ghost caught sight of Babe

Sam is usually… there. When it’s Mates Night Game Night he stays in the van/truck. Darlin’ is the loudest backseat gamer

—

Solaire Clan

Darlin’ drags Sam into this game

Vincent loves this game

Lovely takes a long time to come around on it because being hunted in the dark by an unseen force kinda reminds them of Adam

Sam doesn’t know how literally anything works to the point where Darlin’ and Vincent tease that he’s refusing to remember what all the items do on purpose. Vincent calls him an old man and Sam shoots back that Vincent was literally born one year after him and just turned younger and to shut his damn mouth

Which of course makes Vincent laugh harder

Lovely eventually tentatively starts playing the game because of how much Vincent is laughing with Sam and Darlin’

And over time Lovely gets really good at it. A lot of it seems like dumb luck but no. They’re just good

—

D.A.M.N. Fam

First of all, the four-person multiplayer limit means Gavin/Freelancer and Huxley/Damien take turns and eventually Lasko and his Water Elemental I presume

Sometimes Damien and Huxley are both on the game and Gav/Freelancer swap, sometimes vice versa, etc.

Lasko screams at everything at first, but as he slowly learns the game he actually becomes the best at recognizing the patterns of each ghost type’s quirks

Damien tries so hard to get good at the game and never seem scared but Huxley’s laughter over the mic always clues the others into when Damien got spooked by something

Huxley jumps occasionally but usually just does whatever Lasko instructs him to do with a “sure thing bro” and his usual chill attitude

Although when he does jump there is always an audible thump over his microphone of his knees hitting his desk

Gavin and Freelancer honestly spend the whole game night messing with each other. Trying to jumpscare one another

Or Gavin is pretending to try to seduce the ghost and the lewd noises he makes while talking to the ghost with the spirit box with the radio on totally don’t make Lasko turn as red as a tomato

To their credit, Freelancer does try on their turn. It’s not their fault they get super focused and then Gavin putting a hand on their shoulder to ask if they want a snack makes them shriek much to the amusement of their friends

Lasko’s Water Elemental is even more chill than Huxley and played this game for ages before meeting the group and does their own thing but always to the benefit of the group. Rarely uses the voice chat for more than a few words announcing their intentions. “Power has been turned on.”—“Freezing temperatures confirmed in the upstairs back bedroom. That’s where the ghost is.”—“The ghost is hunting.”—“Okay. Hunt’s over.”

Freelancer and Gavin refuse to show this game to Caelum

Freelancer occasionally announces a false hunt to freak out the others—and almost always a real hunt starts right as they admit they were messing around and they’re the first to get got

If Freelancer isn’t down first it’s Huxley, who will purposely draw the ghost’s attention to protect his friends

That said the whole group usually survives the whole expedition each round once they get good at it

—

Misc. Bois

Aaron doesn’t play but Smartass does. Aaron becomes a decent backseat driver for lore

Elliott and Sunshine actively sabotage each other and mess around more than they pay attention. They still get everything done correctly anyway

Starlight plays occasionally and Avior never does but he will watch and he is the absolute best pattern recognizer and the best backseat gamer

Guy loves this game to pieces. Sometimes it makes Honey jump. They do play with him a lot but Guy is better at it

Ollie is the Actual Best at this game but no matter how much he plays it and “Gits Gud” as it were, he still gets spooked. His partner will play but not necessarily understand everything they’re supposed to be doing

The Project Meridian bois don’t have time to play right now. Please leave a message and they’ll call you right back

Geordi gets so easily spooked by the noises but he loves the game anyway. When things are happy and fine Cutie gets a kick out of listening to his frantic thoughts

Morgan can’t See his own future so the mystery of what’s going to happen is quite enjoyable because it’s the opposite of meeting new people and immediately knowing them better than they know themselves by Seeing their entire future

Blake can See his own future so the game isn’t fun and he knows what it’s going to be every time

[miiiwu]

what are your sexuality/gender headcanons for the young ones? I definitely see rick as gender fluid especially

rick is transfem genderfluid (he/she/they) to me, and he’s a bi butchy femme and a gay man depending on how he’s feeling (im just pulling this stuff out of my ass tbh). but she feels ashamed and terrified of being perceived as a ‘perverted cross dresser’ and has a lot of internalized (and externalized) transmisogyny and transphobia in general.

bc like she’s not just a binary trans woman but not just a binary cis man either and it’s hard to present how she feels internally without ridicule

the first use of the term genderfluid is in Kate Bornstein’s 1994 book Gender Outlaws, so i think he’d keep it mostly hidden until getting really into reading queer theory around that time.

then after unpacking a bunch of stuff he’d eventually be able to come out to the boys about it and they’d lightly bully her about it but also i like to think they grow closer after this bc they finally understand slightly better why she’s Like That (gay and annoying princess💜).

i do also enjoy transmasc rick interpretations but transfem rick is special to me 😌 peace and love on planet trans

i see mike as a stealth trans man, who’s lowkey bisexual but wants to appear as cishet passing as possible. vyvyan knows everything, rick and neil do not (yet). vyv probably did his top surgery lol

vyvyan is transmasc and stealth to everyone but mike (i feel like mike and vyv are childhood friends). but if vyvyan was around in the 2020’s he’d use he/him AND it/its bc it’s very metal.

like, he’s a binary trans man in the eighties but if he existed in a modern au he’d identify more with ‘rabid decapitated dogman corpse’ as a gender identity label than merely ‘man’ or ‘trans guy’

neil is apathetic about gender, but may be plantgender/xenogender or agender but these terms didn’t exist back then so he wouldn’t rlly do anything about it (even tho neil deserves good things 😔 heavy). i think neil is asexual panromantic and he’s very mopey about being ~~forever alone~~

again, the 80’s so he doesn’t have the language to put to these feelings :-(

i think they are like a horrible little polycule but without the terminology to express this, they are basically just some weird friends who stick around together and have some awkward romantic/sexual encounters and tension. and they just keep living together because they’re the only ones who can stand each other 💜 things could get more romantic from there but it requires character development and maturity lmao

i love rick/vyvyan and vyvyan/mike, but also neil/mike, but i think they all kind of date each other in a way lol

these are just my personal headcanons based on what i think fits into what we see in the show and my own experiences as a bi trans person but i’d love to see different interpretations in fanfic*!!! really i just love these characters so much no matter how their orientations/genders are interpreted in fics ^w^

* especially modern au’s because you just KNOW rick would be deep into pride flag discourse and post lengthy callouts about everyone who so much as looks at him funny

[teecupangel]

Found another animal to annoy Desmond with: boat-billed heron

The unofficial bird of the Brotherhood is the eagle. No one has tried to refute that. Before they were called Assassins, eagles have always been their companion of some kind.

So it was not surprising that everyone and their parents were talking about how Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad had gotten himself a bird companion.

… that wasn’t an eagle.

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was what most Assassin aspire to be, unless the name of that Assassin was Malik Al-Sayf then Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was the Assassin he absolutely didn’t want to be.

Even if some of them are annoyed by his arrogance, they cannot deny his skills and intellect. Which only makes the fact that Altaïr’s bird companion was some strange massive bill that reminded some of them of the underside of a boat.

It was like the heavens had punished Altaïr for his arrogance. The bird was strange-looking enough that anyone who saw it would be curious, making any attempts of stealth be useless.

They don’t call it a curse in front of Altaïr’s face, of course. They weren’t suicidal.

… unless the name of the Assassin was Abbas Sofian then that fool deliberately insult both Altaïr and his bird in their faces. Other Assassins simply sighed and ignored it, having lived with the two’s animosity for so long that it had become a norm at this point.

Then they heard Abbas scream and turned back around to find the bird had started to attack the man, trying to peck his eyes out with his large bill.

Altaïr was trying to stop the bird, “You’ll hurt yourself, Desmond! Stop!”

… worried more about the bird than the brother it was attacking.

Of course.

Altaïr had always been a strange boy.

This entire debacle ended with Al Mualim punishing both Assassins, Abbas for his careless words and Altaïr for being unable to control his bird.

1 week in the dungeons.

1 week of the bird terrorizing Al Mualim as if to protest for its owner’s cruel fate.

Nothing serious.

He perched on the window behind Al Mualim with eyes glaring daggers hard enough that the other Assassins were worried that it would actually try to attack Al Mualim.

Missing documents later to be found in other places that would make Al Mualim’s back ache.

Tipping the black ink bottle while it was open, purposely missing any of the paper on the table but wasting the ink and dirtying the table.

Sitting on Al Mualim’s head until Al Mualim shoo him away, only to return after Al Mualim had started to relax once more.

The bird was a terror to everyone but Altaïr.

… and Kadar, apparently. But considering how ‘close’ Kadar was to Altaïr, it wasn’t any surprising.

By the end of Altaïr’s punishment in the dungeon, everyone was relieved…

… including Al Mualim.

[dirtfullofwork]

call of duty oc: sal "ruz" le ciel ( reboot ! Sal)

As of 2024 ruz is associated members of the task force and was called in by laswell to assist the task force with a mission in Las almas with the help of Ghost, Alejandro and soap to capture Hassan.

General:

Name: Salamanca (sal) le Ciel

Age: 24 (as of 2022 where mw2 reboot takes place)

Alies: ruz , coperal, sal, ruzzy

Gender: female

Birthday: October 31, 1998

Nationality: British (UK)

Languages: English, Spanish, some Russian (for educational purposes) and some asain languages

Occupation/ rank: corporal, British SAS (special air services), Associated member of 141- Ghost team and medic

Sexuality: bisexual

Appearance:

Hair color: dark brown

Eye color: cocoa brown

Scars: a few some her childhood and during her time in the militarily (minor ones)

Face claim: Aimee Garcia (?)

Height: 5,6 (166 cm)

Build: lean muscular

Blood type: o+

She had glasses but she can see fairly she mostly uses glasses to read

Family:

Mother: freya (unknown last name) status: Deceased , deceased unnamed father, Martinez le Ciel

Siblings: none.

Personality:

●Looks like a cinnamon bun could kill you.

●confident

●kind

●funny

●loyal

Favorites:

color: green

Season: winter

Food: popcorn shrimp, (she really likes Asian food)

Drink: green tea

Desert: matcha ice cream with rice crisp and also soft cookies (hand baked)

Hobbies: wrestling, running, yard work, gardening, reading, sleep

Task force 141:

John price

Soap mactavish

Ghost Riley

Gaz Garrick

Ruz

Cat @cyberghostdraws

Warriors task force: @islandtarochips ocs!

Tiala shark

Captian kanoa tka

Nigel Harrison

Agnes blast

Dr kalani

Alana Kalani

Fighting style:

Fighting skills: she relys of stealth, she also use her wresting skills she learned. She also uses toture methods like nail pulling, fire, water log

Weapons: she is proficient with in field crafts and knifes. Especially her black talon knife. Its a blade with a slight curve and needle sharp tip

Weaknesses:

•she dosent open to her emotions

•she is a people pleaser, she never knows how to say no

●she can be dishonest

●she can be reluctant

Trivia:

●she is afraid of dogs, she thinks hairy ,messy and sloppy and they are just scary in general, she loves cats

●she loves reading Greek mythology

●she is a Virgin, she thinks love will get in the way of her life and job, and she's just serious about love as she never dated anyone.

•she likes tying her hair up, but always gets messy after missions

•she has glasses but only for reading she can see afar

•she likes girls and boys romantically

Backstory:

At a very young age her mother died from an accidental overdose and her never meeting her father due to him being locked up for murder. She was raised by her aunt, Martinez le Ceil. She lived a decent life, she was fed well raised well to her. And she also heard storys of her late mother being a retired solider and she use to be so inspired by her story and wanted to be her mother one day, but it was hard. Later she decided she should change her life because she didint have no clue what to do with his life and pay off her aunts (Martinez) depts. And thought it be fun.. oh she be so wrong..

so after some years later sal learned tons of stuff, and over time she joined the British sas at the age 19 where she got her code name “ruz”, later she was later called for a mission in El Salvador to kill a group of terrorist and to get info on a report of a drug stash with a few co workers , and after a fail she had to watch her only friend co worker get killed in front of her in a brutal way while she was held hostage then got tortured for 4 days until she escaped but not without a mark, months after that things were normal until she got called by laswell to help them with a mission to las Almas.

[endless-bunny]

Pathfinder Iconics Update: Player Core 2

The Pathfinder 2nd edition remaster took the content from the 2019 Core Rulebook, and the 2020 Gamemastery Guide and Advanced Player's Guide, revised and redistributed their content across three new books: Player Core and GM Core (both 2023) and Player Core 2 (2024). While most of the content from the legacy books found its way into the remaster, a lot of the art in the Advanced Player's Guide was redone for Player Core 2, and some of that art is of Iconic characters.

I don't know if there was a licensing issue, or a contract expired or something, but a lot of this artwork came from the same artist: Victor Manuel Leza Moreno. Interestingly, this artist is still credited for some art in Player Core 2 so there must have been some issue with this art specifically.

Alahazra, Iconic Oracle

Alahazra was the iconic Oracle in PF1, replaced by the tengu Korakai in 2nd edition, but she's still here as a quick-build for Oracle, the Flame Augur. Described as "bride of the sun and prophet of the burning sands", Alahazra pretty cleanly represents one of the differences between Oracles in PF1 and 2. In PF2, the Oracle's Mystery and Curse are connected, so an oracle with the Flames mystery will always have the Curse of Engulfing Flames. In PF1, however, the two are separate. An oracle of the flames mystery could be blind, or she could be followed by fey who constantly play pranks on her. The curse is not linked in any way to the mystery, but it might give some plot hooks for the GM if the oracle wants to explore the source of her powers.

Notice how Alahazra's staff and headdress get more elaborate in Moreno's artwork before going back to a simpler design. I wonder if this is part of the reason some of Moreno's art was replaced, it was to do with characters being "off-model". Some of his other illustrations have details that are different from the PF1 designs, and which are then restored by later artists.

Alain, Iconic Cavalier

Alain and Donahan get a more dynamic pose, with the banner no longer being cut off by the edge of the page. The Moreno art looks kind of weird, with how Donahan has two front hooves up, but Alain looks kind of relaxed. I'm not sure what the line of action is supposed to be, if Donahan is about to rear or charge forward then Alain would be thrown backwards. The Remaster art looks a lot more... stable (no pun intended).

Donahan doesn't actually appear in any of the rulebooks in PF1, so PF2 already has two points in that regard. He does appear on some book covers, for Knights of Golarion and War of the Crown: The Twilight Child. Donahan's barding is more elaborate in the PF2 Advanced Player's Guide than it was in the few illustrations that exist of him from PF1, so like with Alahazra I wonder if that's why we got new Cavalier art for the remaster.

The Red Raven, Iconic Vigilante

My boy has been redeemed! No shade on Moreno but like

come on!

You have to admit that the Red Raven art they did was so bad.

The new Vigilante in Player Core 2 brings back the colour, the detail on the daggers, and the specific styling of the cape. Definite improvement. The one thing I think Moreno had was the sort of skulky pose, but even then the Red Raven (despite being trained in Stealth) was always a bit more flamboyant. I can't find any illustrations of Aric in PF2 books, but perhaps I'm just not looking hard enough. Like I mentioned here, the Vigilante is a wordy archetype, so even though it has a double-page spread, having two illustrations would be really pushing it.

One more little addendum regarding the Red Raven: here's his first appearance, as seen in Pathfinder Module W3: Flight of the Red Raven. That is a module from back when Pathfinder was not its own roleplaying game, but a product line for Dungeons & Dragons 3.5. A lot of the Iconics were presented as pregenerated characters for such modules, but the Red Raven is unique, in that he was first introduced as an NPC. Since the Vigilante class was an invention of the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game that didn't appear until Ultimate Intrigue, the Red Raven is a rogue in his debut module, which seems like the most appropriate of 3.5's core classes.

Flight of the Red Raven came out in 2008, and Ultimate Intrigue in 2016, which marks the longest gap between a character being introduced and becoming an Iconic.

And the rest!

So here are illustrations from Player Core 2 that have been re-done, but aren't iconics. Not gonna have loads to say on these because there's lots of them and they're also not characters in the same way.

Chemist

The Chemist is one of three Quick Build alchemists in Core Rulebook (legacy) and Player Core 2 (remaster). I really wish we could split the difference here. There's lots of continuity between the two, but they're clearly not the same character. I prefer the detail on the outfit for the remaster Chemist, although the addition of bombs on her bandolier and at her waist makes her look more like a generalist than a specialist. The first one is just so much more colourful though.

Blessed One

Tough call here. It's not a competition and honestly I can't pick a favourite. I really love both of these. The pose and effect of the magic on the legacy art is amazing. The remaster art has a lot of motion and she's just so pretty.

Eldritch Archer

Lots of changes here. While the legacy eldritch archer (the design at least) was brought over from PF1, the remaster archer takes things in a bit of a different direction. I like the new outfit, and the addition of moth motifs.

Pirate

Another tough call. I will say, the artist who drew the legacy pirate (who might be Moreno, but I'm not sure) has a shading style that I really don't like. But I do like the design, a cocky tengu in a fabulous hat. The remaster pirate feels almost like a fusion of Lirianne and Jirelle, but with fewer accoutrements.

Snarecrafter

We've still got a kobold, although I like the addition of the central horn and triple tail tip to differentiate the remaster snarecrafter from other 'bolds. The lighting is really interesting on the remaster art actually, now that I look at it. It's like a low source, almost behind the subject. It's quite a striking effect.

I will say though, I dunno what snare you craft with a bucket of caltrops.

I feel like the pointèd sticks that the legacy crafter is working with would be more effective, plus I also think it shows off the sort of improvised nature of the snarecrafter's kit better than the shop-bought ingredients of the remaster bold.

Talisman Dabbler

Two more strong contenders. The patchwork style of the legacy dabbler is neat, I feel like they've got lots of improvised bits and pieces. Like with the snarecrafter, the remaster dabbler doesn't really sell the idea that these are items the dabbler made that morning. I also enjoy that the legacy dabbler is in the process of dabbling, whereas the remaster dabbler is just an iruxi with lots of adornments.

Tough call.

Viking

Fairly sure this one (legacy) is a Moreno. The wild hair and sense of motion are really good, but there's something about the face that is unsettling, and not in the way I think the artist intended. I think they're also obviously a viking berserker rather than a standard viking. The remaster viking has a shield, and a bearded axe (and a cool coat) which are more iconic symbols of vikingdom.

[Part 1: Classes with Different Iconics] [Part 2: Core Classes] [Part 3: The Remaining PF2 Classes] [Part 4: Classes Who Got Demoted] [Part 5: Prestige Classes] [Part 6: Who's left?] [Update: Rivani and Linxia] [Update: Lirianne]

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[lonelydreams-world]

@blade-liger-4ever @escapistsatellite @mk-wizard @thundermarisol @guardiandua91 I recommend you watch it it is cool

What I feel about Season 2 of W.I.T.C.H

My answer is...

SO HAPPY THAT I ENJOYED THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENTS AND THE CHALLENGES THAT OUR HEROES FACED

Nerissa was a major threat

The new power ups for the girls make more sense for our girls

Animation for inanimate objects for Will which is true to her personality as someone who cares so much about people's feelings and how compassionate she is like Cassidy towards living beings, and her interactions with her calculator and other machines is sweet to watch.

Mind Persuasion for Irma which reflects her element water as water finds a way to flow anywhere, I will use a quote of Leonardo Splinterson from TMNT Fast Forward, the episode Fall of Darius Dunn when he was training Cody Jones.

"Imagine a river. Trees, boulders, even mountains may stand in its way, yet the water continues to flow. Patient, persistent; water finds a way around, eventually wearing down any obstacles in its path. [Cody stops, bent over and breathing hard.] Until only the water remains."

Which is thematic and symbolic for Irma to have this power.

Taranee got Telepathy which suits her intellectual personality to a match, even reflecting how our brains can burn from stress when it goes on burnout, also it helps her friends keeping up or learning something important when needed.

Telekinesis for Cornelia makes sense where there are some elements she can't control that is not plant or Earth like platinum or titanium and even carrying objects or people whenever she has neither elements at her disposal.

Invisibility for Hay Lin makes SO sense when we cannot see Air, but also it suits her mischievous side, also it adds depth to Hay Lin learning to use stealth and sneak attacks as a diversion during battle which helps the team greatly.

Will learning how to control her powers was amazing to see showcasing that she has learned from watching her friends fight.

The Knights of Destruction's concept was a masterpiece in writing which is all about the protagonists learning to deal with negativity especially Will since Shagon is Matt and is enjoying tormenting her to the point Will fights recklessly, but luckily Matt was also fighting back and Will in the end succeeded in saving the boy she loves.

Caleb being Nerissa's son was a ten times better twist than the comic's, the one where is revealed that he is a plant created by Phobos, it also added depth to Nerissa as she still holds love for both Caleb and her husband Julian.

Also they kept Yan Lin alive which was a smart narrative move and the twist of her being inside the seal and her altmere being afraid of oblivion is tragic yet in the end she got her happy ending.

Lillian being the heart of Earth is awesome! And Napoleon being her familiar awesome choice! Ed Asner was terrific as him.

Also the old guardians aka CHYKN have somz parallels with WITCH

Yan Lin was similar to Hay Lin in her youth with her wisdom guiding Hay Lin to become a better guardian.

Halinor like Taranee had fears, but Tara overcame them and became braver whereas Halinor let them consume her.

Kadma like Cornelia is proud whereas Kadma has arrogance, Cornelia has narcissism but she overcame that flaw time and again showing her dedication and loyalty to her friends, Kadma still thinks she is in control which is a flaw that came from her insecurity yet she never learned moving from it until she surrendered her Queen Title of Zambala.

Cassidy and Irma are the funny ones, yet compassionate in their own right. But even when tempted Irma overcomes it but Cassidy couldn't because Nerissa knew her all too well(I will forever hate Greg Wiesman saying that she is a Lesbian and so is Nerissa and that they dated when the show, clearly shows us how she uses her friends as puppets against their own will)

Nerissa let power consume her to the point if corruption whereas Will in Season 1 felt she didn't do enough yet never once let her stop being a good leader to her teammates and when she got powers she was glad she could use them to help even more.

There are SO many things I could say but I will content with this! Let me know when what do you think

[rodolfoparras]

Since everyone is talking about their cod ocs, I wanna join (this is so long, I'm so sorry)

So basically my little guy is autistic and trans (I'm projecting) and a huge mamas boy. His name is Everett (I just realized I NEVER gave him a last name😭) and his callsign is Rabbit and he's an Alaskan native (I'm pretty sure this is what they prefer to be called because they don't fuck with being called americans and shit? I'm not 100%)

His ma picked out Everett by force, she was like "?? I'm literally your mother, I'm picking your name" and he was so worried she'd pick something awful, turns out!

(side note, I love rabbits and use them for symbolism a lot. They represent rebirth, so I use them in trans related pieces. I did an art piece of myself pulling a rabbit out of a hat with a bunch of rebirth symbolism and shit, love the piece, may send it here to show it off)

But his callsign comes from being a rabbit hunter growing up and his ability to blend in, he specializes in undercover operations and stealth missions. (Some hares, like a snowshoe, change coats in the season to blend in from predators)

He's voluntarily mute most of the time and does not do expressions very well. Most of his childhood photos are him just 🧍‍♂️😶, gotta be reeaall close with him to have a convo with him

Because he's so quiet, he hears sooo much shit and does like weekly shit talking sessions with Ghost and Roach in their barracks. No body understands how he knows so much because fucking no one talks to him and turns out the rodents are stalking the base and listening in on conversations

Idc how overused masks are, they're so fun. He wears one at home (and at work) because he's got a huge family with lots of little kids, and he's scared of scaring them and doesn't want to "traumatize" his nieces and nephews with his scars on his face and body. Everett misses out on a LOT of family events even though he really wants to go and misses them so much because he's scared

He carries and makes a lot of rabbits feet charms because he firmly believes in their ability to bless you with good luck. He does the metal work himself and personalizes them and gives them off to people he truly cares about.

Everett believes it because his ma said so (duh) and because he narrowly missed a bullet that took a chunk of his ear inside of blowing his brains up while he carried one, so all his favorites get one to protect them.

Later in life, he wound up too close to a bomb and a piece of shrapnel went straight into his face and blinds him in one eye

He was so utterly devastated when he got medically discharged and was scared of totally losing his sight and never being able to communicate with Roach again

I'm a firm believer in polycule 141 so it just becomes scarier when Johnny starts losing his hearing from all the explosives and shit and so many of them experience wear and tear in this hand joints from working with guns

Gonna copy and paste my polycule 141 disability headcanons that I've talked about with my bf

"Ghost's got horrible horrible nightmares and sometimes will react in his sleep. Night terrors or physically reacting, but that one's very rare."

"Price definitely gets respiratory issues, half because of his cigars, and half from breathing shit in before he could get a mask on. Probably gets asthma the older he gets."

"Roach gets chronic migraines. They're basically debilitating, can't get out of bed for days and keeps all light out of his room. Takes meds for it that usually work."

"Most of them have joint issues. Half of them creak and groan like a fucking million year old house on its last leg."

"Gaz gets degenerative arthritis. I think he'd be in the force the longest and since he was the youngest to join SAS, he probably overworked himself beyond belief when he had joined. Wore him down fs"

With Johnny being hard of hearing:

"I don't if he'd be able to get hearing aids, his cochlea probably too damaged so that if he did get cochlear implants or something, they probably wouldn't do much but piss him off. Because sometimes if you get cochlears, they just make an annoying noise. So he'd just wind up pissy over it so he'd probably opt not to get them - (also the surgery is invasive and obviously doesn't work sometimes depending on person)

-141 would have to install flashing light systems through the house to alert Soap and half of em probably walk heavier to warn Soap so they don't scare him"

Since he grew up in Alaska, he was very used to it being day or night for weeks or months, sometimes finds it a little jarring when he sees the sun actually setting and the moon coming up or vise versa.

One time, after a really shit mission, he woke up in the hospital to see it was nighttime when he distinctly remembers it being day the last time he was awake. And it's like "OH SHIT HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN OUT FOR." nearly sends himself into a panic thinking he'd just woken up from a fucking coma.

Shit there's so much more I could say but this is already so long, I'm so sorry 😭😭😭 I was so hyper fixated on him for a good few months with my bf

-🐧

Wait the fact that she picked the name is kinda cute and that the reason behind it was bc she’s the mom here idk it’s nice when parents are properly involved in their kids life

Also I’ll forever love yalls background story for your call names bc they’re always so thought out and so interesting genuinely y’all are so creative 🥹

I love that he has shit talking sessions with ghost and roach bc I absolutely think they’d get along well soap info dumps sm gaz overshares and price uses Everett to complain so he knows sm and randomly shares the info😭

Does his mask look something akin to a rabbit or does it represent rabbits in any way? Also now I’m imagining him walking around on base all excited about handing out charms😭 oh my goodness imagine each charm having something that represents the members that wears it?

Oh man although it’s sad he went blind in one eye I can imagine he’d lock sick in a prosthetic eye!!

Also I like how the disability hc actually makes sense especially prices and soaps but especially prices bc I know that man has coughing fits and snores horribly and you can hear a certain rasps in his voice when he talks 😭

And I love them being a polycule and taking care of each other in this way 🥹 like I know this is what you do in healthy relationships but idk it’s sweet ? Like price giving gaz massages bc his wrists hurt a lot? 🥹

Also don’t apologize sugar it’s okay!! It was a really interesting read genuinely I wish I had the ability to create ocs but not just ocs-, but ocs that have so much depth and backstory it’s absolutely amazing that y’all have this ability!