#bench plaques

[classicmemorialbenches]

Memorial Bench Inscription Ideas

service for memorial bench inscriptions and pay close attention to the design and layout. Our inscriptions are deeply carved into the hardwood, creating a beautiful shadow effect, and do not need to be darkened.

Here are some ideas for memorial bench inscriptions:

Remembered with love and cherished forever.

A life well lived, a heart well loved.

Always in our thoughts, forever in our hearts.

You will be deeply missed, but your memory will live on.

Your memory is a treasure we hold in our hearts.

In memory of a beloved

[lostandoverwhelmed]

i grew up being labelled an unempathetic person but idk about that because i cry whenever i read words engraved in the present tense on tombstones

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[severalowls]

The bench at the bus stop at the big junction near me has conspicuously disappeared and I swear to god it had better just be in for repairs and not Gone.

[greenbarnorchidsupplies]

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[yoshistory]

i wonder if i would be like. allowed. to set up a little free library outside my apartment

[s0upofthenight]

Please put why and give any details you'd like in the tags!!!

[ozzgin]

Pyramid Head x Reader

Featuring Pyramid Head and a reader with amnesia lost in Silent Hill. This is Pyramid Head as originally intended for Silent Hill 2, so expect a lot of game-based immersion. Warning: NSFW, dubious/non-consent, violence, gore

[Horror Masterlist]

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

You grunt and slap the wheel, hoping your defiant act of violence will somehow convince the car engine to start again. It remains quiet. You run a hand through your hair and sigh. The palm is mildly sticky with moisture and you realize you've been sweating a fair amount. No wonder, you're stuck in this shithole. You couldn't see a damn thing ahead with all this fog. The only discernible object was a rusty, run-down sign showing "Silent Hill". You've never heard the name before, but reading the letters and allowing the words to escape your lips has brought you an unexpected wave of panic. You quickly began hyperventilating and your arms involuntarily twitched and twisted, pulling the wheel of the car along with them and causing the car to swerve into a street barrier. And now it refuses to turn back on. Fantastic. 

You hesitantly grab the door handle. After a deep breath in, you open the door and step out. Given the car crashed sideways, you can no longer tell which way is back and which way is forward. You can only see the first few inches of the barrier in both directions, but everything else vanishes under the thick clouds of mist. You rub your temples, becoming increasingly upset with yourself.  What were you even doing, driving all the way to-

Wait. Where were you going in the first place? You recall leaving from...home? But where is that supposed to be? No, don't do this. Not now. You walk back to the car and open the glove compartment, angrily pulling out a thick stack of documents and spreading them out onto the chair. You scan over them, growing more impatient. You don't recognize anything. The names and words and addresses don't hold any meaning. You glance up to the rear-view mirror in an attempt to detect some trail of blood seeping from your scalp, as a concussion might explain your sudden memory loss, but your appearance is fresh. Almost as if you didn't just crash your car in a strange place in utter confusion. 

You check your phone. Even if you can't remember, there has to be someone in your contacts that will come to your aid. The screen glitches briefly when you unlock it and the menu is empty. No contacts, no messages, no apps. No matter, emergency will do. You type in the digits and lift the phone to your head, but quickly remove it when loud static assaults your eardrums. Why is nothing working properly? You're tempted to just slam the junk into the pavement, but find enough composure to stuff it back in the pocket for now. 

All that's left to do now is to find another human. You begin walking. The road has to lead somewhere, that's for certain. And soon enough the barrier is replaced with a different kind of fencing that you use as guidance. It seems to be a small bridge. Just a few steps further and you discover the first signs of modern, populated world: a bus stop. Behind the waiting bench is a brief map of the area and you trace the plaque with your fingers, mumbling the path to yourself. "Now let's see...This is Nathan Avenue...Rosewater Park ahead...Ah, the Silent Hill Fire Station should be very close."

You can't wait to be done with this mess. They'll call for a tow truck and get you out of here. You almost sprint to the next block, expectantly. In fact, you can already spot someone right outside the building. 

"Thank God! Listen, my car broke down before the bridge. My stupid phone is also...huh." 

Just as you mention it, the same static as previously erupts from the speaker. You're startled and fumble for your phone. You're about to apologize to the person in front of you, but upon lifting your gaze you instantly stop in your tracks. 

'Person' is a strong word for it. It resembles one, or maybe it was one long ago. What's crawling towards you, however, is not how you'd define it. The arms are melted into the torso, mimicking a straight jacket of skin. The bony, crooked legs are dragging themselves in an unnatural, unnerving way. The creature has no face, save for a gaping hole, a bizarre cavity deforming what should be a head. Your mouth grimaces with disgust, followed by fear. Terror. You have the choice of returning to your damaged car, or attempting to find actual help deeper into the town. You run ahead, praying that someone's out there. The dissonant sound of a siren can be heard, diffused into the persistent fog.  

By the time you reach the next building, you're gasping for air. You didn't expect to run this far. You went all the way around Toluca lake, avoiding the side streets. The center was swarming with those abominations. Each turn and each corner would eventually reveal its revolting murmur, that pathetic shuffle of disfigured limbs. Thankfully they're not fast, nor smart. A little distance and they lose their interest to pursue you. You fall against the brick wall of this small house and read the poster. "Silent Hill Historical Society". Doesn't look too promising, but it's surprisingly devoid of any monstrous being. At this point you'd be more grateful for emptiness. It's safer. 

You tiptoe your way in, wary of potential attackers. There's a faint buzz echoing from afar, but other than that no immediate danger. You examine the lobby and notice the paintings and old photos hanging from the decaying wallpaper. It smells slightly rotten. One of the art pieces catches your attention and you stop in front of it. "Misty Day, Remains of Judgement". 

The abstract character depicted on canvas reminds you of an executioner. The more you stare, the clearer you can feel some kind of guilt knotting inside your stomach. Your shoulders are heavy and you're overwhelmed by the same anxiety of a child about to be punished. Awaiting the belt. The calloused hand of an unforgiving father. Your throat is dry.

Your musings are interrupted by the static that - as you've since learned - warns you of approaching creatures. The rooms are cramped and the walls are narrow and you dislike the idea of calculating your escape within this claustrophobic maze, but it's preferable to being dead. You jog along slithering paths, unsure of where they lead. The threatening turbulence of your phone goes up and down, like a sine wave, with each turn into uncharted territory. In your frantic efforts to flee you don't see the large hole blocking your way, or at least not fast enough. By the time you figure out the outlines of this pitch black well, you're flooded with the light sensation of gravitational force, stretching and compressing your innards as you fall. Is this how you end?

It's not so easy. 

As soon as you open your eyes, a burning pain metastasizes through the head, digging deep into your brain. You grab onto your scalp and press your fingers over the skin, hoping for a small relief. In your debilitating migraine you don't hear the agitated flutter of limbs. They're minuscule, but so many. Thousands of sclerotized joints frothing around your limp form. You lift yourself off the rusted ground and yelp voiceless at the sight. Cockroaches. The pile of vermin lets out a deafening, high pitched screech with every movement. You drag your elbows in an attempt to get away, but the creepers almost ignore your existence. They seem to be running away from something, retreating in masses.

You don't have to wait long in order to witness their source of fear. Heavy footsteps, muffled by the grating friction of metal against metal. A corroded stench invades your lungs and you cough. Whatever is coming has instilled the utmost dread in your very bones. You want to get up and run, until your legs give up and your body collapses of exhaustion, but your limbs are petrified in panic. Your chest constricts and throbs, as if your heart is trashing to escape this prison condemned to unknown doom. 

Finally, the fiend comes into view. A tall, large man wearing a leather apron layered with grime and encrusted blood. His skin is scarred and discolored, and a bulky, dense pyramid structure rests on his broad shoulders, concealing his face. He seems to be dragging along a great knife of sorts, although on closer inspection it looks like a halved pair of oversized scissors. The edge is dulled and has splattered visceral leftovers mattifying its surface. You remember the painting you've seen upstairs. Is this what it is? Your Retribution? 

You lower yourself until your forehead touches the rusty floor. Like an animal awaiting to receive the final blow from its hunter, like a prisoner resigning to his fate under the guillotine. If only matters could be dealt with so simply! Your neck is clawed into a tight hold by the large gloved hand and you're crudely pulled back up so that you can properly face your Punisher. There's a vague grunt coming from underneath his bizarre helmet. 

He carries you to the nearest wall and slams you against it. The great knife drops to the floor with a loud crash, and the other hand, now freed, begins to search your lower clothing. You can feel the seams of the garments tear and snap with no resistance. You want to vocalize a protest, but your throat is crushed under the forceful pressure of his clasp. At best, you can exhale in what sounds like a whispered wail. His apron is nonchalantly flipped to the side and your thigh lifted over his forearm, so that his hand can adjust itself securely under your bottom for support.

Abruptly, a prickling ache crosses your entire body as if you've just been split in two. Tears automatically begin forming in the corner of your eyes and spill down your cheeks and over the pyramid that's now pressing tightly against your quivering form. It's too big and you want to push away, but with each renewed plunge you grow weaker. The small tears and rips that blossom around your abused intimacy turn into bleeding wounds. You want to sleep. 

A creature of pure instinct, serving as a reminder of human perversions and immoral desires. Travesty, corruption, sin. And what about it? Before you know it, a small moan escapes your dried lips. You throw your arms around your captor's shoulders. The sharp edges of the helmet scratch your skin, waking you back into consciousness. Your lower muscles start to relax around the massive member and allow for a smoother glide in and out. The numbness is gradually replaced by pleasant sensations. The throbbing reverberates inside your abdomen and your other leg wraps around the creature's hips, asking for more contact. Once your compliance is confirmed, the hand pinning you by the neck wanders to other parts of your body in starved desperation. Your voice returns and more lewd whines roll out one after another. If only you had a mirror so you could look at yourself in this moment. What shameless expressions are you wearing on your face? You're clinging to your violator in feverish depravity. And in return, the creature responds to your cravings with increased intensity. He seems to resonate with your wishes and stiffens his hold on you with newfound obsession. His thrusts become almost feral, with a certain possessiveness to it. 

As you're about to reach your peaks, your mind once again travels to the painting. You wonder if you'd be hung and framed just like the prisoners behind their executioner. Pleasure mixed with guilt. 

What sin is eroding your entrails? 

[nexysworld]

Summary: After his last failed mission, the D.S.O dropped him off at the shelter. Grumpy and off-putting, his chances of leaving were bleak until you came along. Pairing: Dog Hybrid!Vendetta Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, hybrid sex, unprotected sex, age gap, oral sex, knotting, mild dubcon reader into it though, cream pie, mentions of alcohol, mild angst, but also comfort, no use of y/n

Read on AO3 || Askbox || Masterlists A/N: A birthday gift for a wonderful person. <3 Also thanks to @explorevenus for helping with the banner photos, because Nexy still cannot Pinterest correctly. Title from the deftness song, Cherry Waves. I also have a bot based off this story: Character AI || Spicychat

Leon grumbled as he laid against the shitty bench-turned-bed inside the small gray walled kennel. There was only a folded up blanket for padding, to protect him from the cold cement beneath his back. It was a far cry to the plush and lavish hotel room beds previously provided by the D.S.O. His ears twitched as he curled in facing the wall, doing his best to drown out the sound of the other hybrids around him as well as the sound of the people looking around. His throat ached for the burn of some good whiskey.

He resented all of them – owners and the yipping little pups who they were here to claim. How many months had it been since he’d seen the dewy green of the grass outside. How many months since some poor soul decided to even peer into his kennel? Too many by his calculations.

Leon didn’t want an owner exactly, much more used to having his own freedom. It was one of the few good things about his previous employment. As a federal agent Leon had been allowed free reign for most things unlike the other hybrids who ran around playing butler-house-pet or fuck toy. An owner meant rules, it meant being friendly, it meant playing and being lovey – all the things he had grown to be inexplicably bad at.

He couldn’t deny though that somewhere deep within his alcohol riddled organs, it stung a little knowing that he was likely never leaving the kennel again, it was his prison.  An owner at least meant getting out of there. But alas, he wasn’t a puppy anymore, and between his age and ‘off putting personality’ as it stated on his papers, he knew it was a pipe dream.

He stretched his limbs, flopping onto his back, trying to push the thought out of his mind. Idly, he stared at the flickering light mounted to the ceiling, eyes following the creaky fan blades as they swirled around. It was almost enough to lull him into another dreamless nap, until he heard an unfamiliar gait heading his way. With no pups beyond his kennel he figured it was someone walking the wrong way, so he ignored it, returning to the fascinating task of counting specs on the ceiling tiles once he grew bored of the fan. 

“Hm?” One of his ears perked up as the footsteps stopped outside his room. A moment of silence, no further sound. The soft scent of some dainty perfume graced his nostrils. “What are you still standing there for? Puppies are the other way.” He called out idly, still not willing to acknowledge their presence with his eyes. 

“O-oh. Well…I wasn’t really looking for a puppy per se.”  Soft. Soft was the best way he could describe your voice, like his ears were being tucked into a cushiony blanket. He couldn’t decide if he hated it or not, but it intrigued him enough to finally sit up — it’d been a while since someone who sounded as sweet as you bothered to even look his way.

Scratching at his stubble he took you in, head to toe as he walked closer, leaning against the bars. Just as he thought; soft, sweet, cute, too young. “Not looking for a puppy?” He questioned, raising a dark brow. “You really think I’m your taste?”

Doe eyes darted to his little display plaque before back to his, he could tell you were nervous, the slightest rosy flush on your cheeks. “I think so.” The words weren’t confident, they wavered, your hands fidgeted. He wanted to laugh in dry amusement, but he wasn’t that mean. “Listen kid, unless you got a flask of whiskey hidden in your pocket, a cute thing like you is better off finding a puppy to fawn over.”

“I don’t want a puppy.” You said again, this time more firm, determination overtaking your features. “The whiskey can be arranged though.” 

“You’re joking.” “Nope. Dead serious.” “You read my file? You know how big of a grouch I can be.” “I did.I like a challenge.”  That ditzy little smile never left your face, but your eyes screamed sincerity. His eyes narrowed, he had both arms crossed while he considered what you were saying, squeezing the worn leather of his jacket. “There’s plenty of other old dogs around here.” “You’re not old.” “I’m 37.” “That’s not old.”

“Old for you.” “You don’t even know how old I am.” “You’re a real pain, you know that kid?” “I like you already.”  Leon tilted his head to the side, one ear flopping with the movement, his tail against his will wagging slowly behind him. You were interesting, that’s for sure, like a little warm dart shot into his iced over heart. For the briefest moment he felt hope, though he steeled it away as fast as it came – he knew better than to let emotions like that flourish. But at least he figured this could be a nice vacation.. “Know what? I like you too, kid. But don’t expect me to do any cute shit.” “No cute shit, got it.” 

The apartment was small, simple white walls, beige carpet that looked kinda scratchy. It reminded him of the first apartment he ever had, rented it himself when he began the police academy. That felt like a world away now – yet he could still remember the look on the manager’s face when he rolled up as a fresh-faced pup to sign the lease, his academy badge attached to his shirt. 

‘Wonder what my life would’ve been if I could’ve stayed that guy.’ He mused, following you around for the grand tour.  “It’s not much. But there’s a second bedroom you can have all to yourself, and the hall bathroom is all yours too.” 

He nodded, sniffing around the place, everything had your scent lingering on it, even down to the guest room sheets. That same dainty scent, he hated to admit it but it was nice, growing on him by the second – so much so he even felt his cock twitch in his pants. Surprising to him, he can’t remember the last time he popped a stiffy between the alcohol, work, and sour mood he’d been in forever.

When you weren’t looking he adjusted himself in his pants. You were saying something, but truthfully he was only half listening. “What was that?” “I was just saying how tomorrow we can stop and get you whatever you’re needing. I would offer you some of my pajamas but yknow…” 

“It’s fine, I’m a boxers kind of dog anyway.” He swatted you away dismissively. “Don’t worry about it either, I should still have some money in my account from my last job. I just have to get to the bank.” “Oh. Ok.” You replied. “Well uhmm, you know my room’s next door. If you need me for anything, don’t hesitate to come get me.” “Mhmm.” He didn’t say goodnight as he heard the door shut behind him. Not having much on his person to unpack, he decided to just strip for bed. He kicked his browned boots off into the corner, tossing the jacket on top. Opting to leave the tshirt on, he tossed his jeans over with the rest before flopping back onto the mattress. 

Truth be told, the silence was odd – even at the shelter there was always something or someone making noise. The loud industrial AC unit on blast, night puppies running around their rooms, idle chatter. Here there was just…silence, loneliness still. Despite the unease that set forth within him, he had to admit the feeling of a real mattress felt delightful, like floating on clouds. Rolling over he took the opportunity to bury his face in the pillow, finally getting to indulge in your scent as much as he wanted. His eyes squeezed shut, his tail wagged against the bed thumping each time it connected – he was glad for the privacy.  ‘I’m fucked up for this, she’s too young.’

He considered rubbing one out before falling asleep, but between the way he was sinking into the bed and the coolness of the pillow, he stood no chance. It wasn’t long before that sinking feeling of unconsciousness began to wrap itself around him. His cock could wait another day. 

For the first time in a long time, Leon dreamed while he slept. 

You sat in your own bed, unable to sleep. It was odd knowing that someone else was in your home for a change, but you supposed that was the whole point. 

Living alone was hard, kinda scary, and definitely lonely. Though the decision to get a hybrid was one you landed on impulsively. You considered a regular dog but that was more of a hassle than you wanted – what you really needed was a companion that could be independent. 

Leon’s picture was one of the first on the shelter’s website. You were surprised a dog his age was there, more surprised at how handsome he was if you were honest. His file caught your interest right away, previously employed, a government agent? The mystery behind that had you wanting to know more – was he like James Bond? Why would a government agent wind up in a shelter? Someone like that would make a good guard dog, right? 

And then of course when you saw him in person you knew you wanted him. Leather jacket, boots, and those cute fuzzy ears. God. It felt like his blue eyes pierced your soul, his locks framing his face – you loved it. 

Now here you were, he was in the room right next to you and yet you couldn’t get him off your mind. Looking over at the clock it was around midnight now. ‘Come on, just sleep. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you can talk to him.’ You reminded yourself, trying to will your brain into submission

It didn’t work. 

“This sucks.” You complained to yourself, hanging your legs over the side of the bed, rubbing at your eyes. Figuring stretching your legs and grabbing a glass of water might help, you pushed forward, quietly making your way out of the room and down the small hallway to the kitchen.

The chilling water felt like a rush of relief the moment it made contact with your mouth, legs feeling better after walking as well. You stretched almost like a cat, arms in the air, relishing in the feeling before deciding to head back to bed. 

Your trek back was interrupted by sound coming from behind Leon’s door, it was so quiet at first you almost ignored it, until his booming voice made you jolt where you stood. 

“Fuck you Patricio, you fucking coward! I should kill you myself.”  “What the hell?” Nosily you cracked his door slightly. “Leon? Everything alright?” There was no immediate response, but you heard shuffling on the bed, like he was thrashing around. This time you pushed the door open completely, hall light illuminating the room just enough to see his torso on the bed. 

Another noise left him, almost like a pained cry, then a whimper. “Fuck you.” He said again. “They’re all dead because of you…no…because of me.” His voice became quieter towards the end of his sentence. 

“Leon?” You cooed his name, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You weren’t sure what to do, but it hurt to see him struggle in unconsciousness. Gently you placed your hand on his cheek, he was clammy, the stubble rough against your hand. He didn’t seem any closer to waking, but you could feel his facial muscles tense – a growl left him as he rolled the other way. 

Daring to reach out, you pet at his ears gently, the short fur soft against your skin. “Hey, it’s alright.” You moved closer on the bed, intending to try and comfort him some more. Instead, your hand landed on his tail by accident. 

Leon jolted awake, and in an instant you were flipped onto your stomach, arm twisted and pinned to your back. Your muscles strained painfully, his grip bruising. His breath was hot against your ear, growling loud. “Ow!” You whimpered, face buried into the pillow. 

His nose pressed into your neck, sniffing a bit before he finally retracted slightly. You could feel his cock harden a little as it twitched through his boxers, pressed slightly in on your thigh from behind. “Oh shit.” He said, sleep addled brain fully catching up. “Shit, I’m sorry kid.” He didn’t move off of you completely, but he let go of your arm at least. “You alright?” “I think so.” “What were you even doing in here?” “You were having a bad dream. I wanted to make sure you were ok.” You mumbled against the pillow, flopping your arm to the side to ease the pain and tension from how it had been pulled. You weren’t sure what to do next, ask him to get off? Try to move? Stay still? While it should have scared you more than it did, you hadn’t expected him pinning you down to make you feel…exhilarated? That coupled with him pressed against you made your panties grow sticky with arousal. ‘This is awkward.’ You thought to yourself, hoping he didn’t notice. Hoping he would do something on his end to move the situation forward.

“Are you sure that’s the only reason you were in here?” You couldn’t see him, but you swore you could hear the smirk in his very words. He leaned over you again, this time his chest flush against your back, lips against your ear. “I can smell it on you, you know. Don’t even need to feel it to know you’re soaking.” 

“Wha–” Your face burned hot with embarrassment, more slick soaked your panties with just his words. “No I swear, I was just –” Your words were cut off instantly by the feeling of his tongue on the shell of your ear, the warm muscle teasing it, skin cooling the moment it moved away. 

“You smelled good earlier. But now? Now you smell like a fucking treat.” He said, burying his nose back into your neck, pressing his now nearly fully hard cock against you more. He ground down slightly as he took in your scent again. “Wanna just tear you apart, eat you up.” 

“Leon!” You gasped out, squirming under him. “Bad boy!” You managed to get out, though it lacked any real authority.  He snorted with amusement, leaning back, a firm grasp on your hips with both hands. “I’m bad? Who’s the one sneaking into someone else’s bed in the middle of the night?” He punctuated each word by grinding his clothed erection against your clothed cunt.  “I already said..I wasn’t… Bad, boy. Down!” You whimpered again, trying to sound firm this time, and failing again. 

“No can do.” He replied. “Got me all worked up now.” He gave a solid slap to your ass cheek, not enough to leave a mark, but just enough to sting lightly. “I warned you to go fawn over a puppy, didn’t I?” “L-leon –”

 “Not in control with me, Sweetheart. Shouldn’t get a pet you’re not ready to take care of.” 

You weren’t able to reply as he brought his hand between you from behind, rubbing at your clit through your panties. He ghosted his fingers there with just enough pressure to make you want more, but not enough to really push you over that cliff of euphoria. A needy whine worked it’s way out of you, and you ground your clothes pussy back against his hands, desperate for more pressure.  “That’s better.” He praised, rewarding you by letting rut against his hand. “Gonna cum just from that, aren’t you? Dirty little owner.” He teased.  “N-no” You attempted to protest, but he was right. It felt so good, though a little rough from the friction of the wet fabric. Your hips didn’t stop their movement against his warm hand, chasing that pleasure, each movement making you whimper into the pillow. It wasn’t long before you were cumming against his hand, him rubbing your back with his free one, coaxing you through it. “Atta girl,” he praised. 

While you caught your breath, he made quick work of your panties, not bothering to pull them off, opting to tear the thin fabric instead, leaving them torn between your legs. “Bet you taste as good as you smell.” He mumbled to himself, scooting down the bed enough that he could lean forward face to face with your wet folds. He gave no warning before he dove in, tongue lapping at you like you were dripping liquid gold. “Sweet as a fuckin’ treat.” He said, pulling away just long enough to take a breath before sucking on your clit gently, swirling his tongue around it.

Too sensitive from your previous orgasm, you kicked against the bed, back arching as you tried to get his attention. “S’too much.” You cried out, squeezing your eyes shut. If he heard you, he didn’t acknowledge it, simply pulling you closer to his face, strong arms keeping you pinned where you were as he continued devouring your cunt mercilessly. “S’too much!” You cried out again. 

With one more particularly hard suck, your whole body tensed, hole clenching around nothing as you came again. Hot pleasure radiated from your core, shooting zaps of pleasure that tingled your fingertips and made your toes curl. Little aftershocks of pleasure made your brain hazy as he eased up on the pressure, giving light licks now to savor your taste. 

Legs trembling, you were relieved when you felt him move from between your thighs, feeling his weight shift off the bed for a moment. When he returned, you realized he’d taken his boxers off, whining pathetically as he ran the hot sticky tip of his cock against your folds, bumping it over your clit again for good measure making you squeal. 

“Be a good girl and relax.” He said, finally pressing himself inside of you. It was just the tip but you already felt so full, like you were being speared with every inch. “Easy, easy….biiiiiiiiiiigggg stretch.” He cooed, finally burying himself to the balls. You had never felt so full before, mouth opening into a little ‘o’ shape, no sound coming out. Velvet walls tightened around him, making him hiss behind you. “No pushin’ me out, not ‘til I’m done.” He said, sliding out just a little before pressing back in. He did this a few times, slow shallow thrusts, easing you open for him.  Leon wrapped one arm around you, pulling you back so you were leaning against him as he rocked your bodies together. He splayed one hand against your stomach to help hold you in place, the other a firm grip on your neck. Not tight enough for you to be unable to breathe, but enough to cut off some of the blood supply, give your brain that heavy drowsy feeling – tongue flopping out in your dazed state. 

Tilting your head to the side, he lapped at the junction between your neck and shoulder before biting down on the spot, letting just his canines puncture the skin, careful to not draw too much blood. You gasped at the sensation, while it stung at first, each slam of his thick cock head to your cervix made any pain forgettable, enjoying the feeling of being stretched and filled.

He was close, you could tell by the rugged and uneven breaths he was taking, mixed with how he desperately rutted into you. He pressed you forward back onto the mattress, releasing your neck to reach down and lace his fingers through yours, his other hand maintaining its spot around you for support as he smacked his hips against yours. 

Leon came hard, balls tightening as he painted your insides white with thick ropes of cum. He rode out his own pleasure with deep but slow thrusts, holding you tightly against him. It wasn’t long before the knot on his cock stretched you out further, nearly at your limit. “I know, I know.” He said, rubbing your stomach gently as you squeezed his other hand. Once you seemed mostly adjusted, he carefully rolled both of you so that you were laying sideways, one leg bent back slightly over his to accommodate where your bodies were still linked. He held you close to him, nuzzling into your neck and lapping up any remaining blood from the bite mark. 

Silence passed as your bodies cooled down together, an overwhelming sleepiness taking over you. You rubbed at your eyes again before breaking the silence by calling out his name. “Leon?” “Yeah?” “Are you really ok though?” “Huh?” He sounded genuinely perplexed by the simple question. “The nightmare, it sounded…real…like a memory. Are you alright, like really alright?” You turned your neck as best you could, wincing slightly from the bruised bite that was now aching a bit, trying to see his face in the dark room.  “You were serious about that?”  “Yeah, I was worried. I told you I wanted to make sure you were alright.” “Shit …. I’m fine kid, promise. Just a bad memory that’s done and over with.” 

“Wanna talk about it?”  “Right now?” He asked incredulously.  “Well, yeah why not? Post nut clarity and all that.”  “You’re literally stuck on my – “ He cut himself off with a sigh. “You’re a weird one.”

“Yeah, I know. And you’re kinda grumpy, especially when you first wake up.”  He let out a laugh, it sounded genuine this time. His knot finally deflating, he slipped out of you gently so he could readjust the way you were laying so you were facing him. He pulled you closer, burying your face in his chest, resting his chin on your head. You could hear the telltale sound of his tail gently patting against the bed – a part of you wanted to point out that he did, in fact, do cute shit, but held your tongue. Instead you closed your eyes, letting the smile he couldn’t see spread over your features, relishing in his warmth, and the smell of his spiced cologne.  “Tell you what. Keep me around long enough and I might just tell you about the dream some day.” “Mmm and what if I keep you around forever?” His tail thumped harder at that question, a sign of his true feeling, it made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  “Guess that remains to be seen.” You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off. “Go to sleep.” 

“Fine.” You conceded, too tired to really argue. A squeaky yawn escape you as you curled up into him, letting your eyes lid with sleep, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. 

[i-like-media]

Some Black History In Classic Doctor Who

Something I've been itching to make a post about as I made my way through classic who! I hope you enjoy ^o^

In the 4th season of Doctor Who (1966), the missing serial "The Smugglers" featured the first black character with a speaking role. This character was named Jamaica and he was played by Elroy Josephs! He was tasked with guarding the captured 1st Doctor, and was later killed for failing to keep guard over him.

Elroy Josephs was born in Jamaica, and besides being an actor he was also a dancer. He became the first black dance lecturer at IM Marsh in Liverpool, which is part of Liverpool John Moores University.

Elroy Josephs is often overlooked for his influence on black British dance and on November 1997, a bench and plaque was unveiled in Elroy's memory at John Moores University.

More about his influence of black dance in Britain can be read here

★

The serial immediately after was called "The Tenth Planet" and this serial featured Earl Cameron as Glyn Williams, the first black astronaut in television (I've seen people say it's actually Nichelle Nichols in Star Trek, since she appeared on Star Trek JUST a month earlier in 1966, though I'd argue the portrayal in Doctor Who is more akin to what we know an astronaut to be. Still, a crazy close call!)

Glyn Williams, alongside another astronaut, discovers the Cyberman home planet Mondas in their rocket. This is the first serial to feature the cybermen, too! Their rocket gets pulled in by Mondas's gravitational pull and they die in an explosion.

Earl Cameron was born in Bermuda, and is well known as the first black actor to take a leading role in a British film! The movie was called "Pool of London" and was released in 1951. It was his performance in this movie that led to him becoming "Britain’s first home-grown, non-American black movie star"!

Earl Cameron passed away in 2020 at the age of 102, making him the 5th Doctor Who cast member to reach his 100th birthday!

★ - ★ - ★

"The Tomb Of The Cybermen (season 5)" and "Terror Of The Autons (season 8)" featured 2 characters, both played by Roy Stewart. Both characters have been criticised for their racist depiction of a black man. In TTOTC, Roy played the character of Toberman, who was a mute servant of an expeditioner and the strongest one of the team. He had no say in any matters and was supposed to be purely muscle. He was partially cyberconverted and sacrificed himself to save everyone.

In TOTA, Roy played the character Tony, a strongman with animal furs also tasked to be brute force. He helped keep the 3rd doctor captive, but was knocked out by Jo Grant.

Born in Jamaica, Roy Stewart came to the UK with the idea to become a doctor, though he ended up changing his mind to start acting. There weren't many black stuntmen out there (they would have white people "black up"). He ended up doing a lot of stunt work and became one of Britain's top black actors/stuntmen! Though, a lot of his earlier work went uncredited.

Roy Stewart also ran a gymnasium in 1954 with a policy allowing people of all races to train together. He also opened a Caribbean restaurant and bar called The Globe in 1960, which he ran until the day he died (2008). The Globe is now one of longest-running nightclubs in London, still with a Caribbean restaurant upstairs.

"Frequented by Jimi Hendrix, The Rolling Stones, Van Morrison, The Clash and Bob Marley, The Globe became the place to be. Its notoriety was such, that even Mick Jones of The Clash named his album after it and wrote the title song about the nightclub." - The Globe Website

★ - ★ - ★

In season 5 the serial "The Enemy Of The World", Carmen Munroe played the role of Fariah Neguib, a food taster for the powerful politician, Ramón Salamander. She was a food taster by force, and rebelled against Salamander by giving the 2nd Doctor's allies important documents, revealing a black mailing side to the politician. She was shot and died in the arms of the enemy, pridefully refusing to give them information. Though sources are a bit muddy on this (1 sketchy source and the rest is my memory of classic who), Carmen Munroe could very well be the first black woman in Doctor Who. And if not, She is most certainly the first with a prominent speaking role.

Born in Guyana, Carmen Munroe played an instrumental role in the development of black British theatre and representation on tv. She played a good number of leading roles, but is best known for the role of Shirley in British TV sitcom Desmond's. Carmen is also one of the founders of Talawa, the UK's leading black theatre company, which was created in response to the lack of creative opportunities for Black actors and the marginalisation of Black peoples from cultural processes.

Today, Talawa is the primary Black theatre company in the UK, with more than 50 award-winning touring productions from African classics to Oscar Wilde behind it. In total the company has produced more than 80 productions. Our name, Talawa, comes from a Jamaican patois term and means gutsy and strong - Talawa.com

Carmen was also appointed Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE), which is a British order of chivalry, rewarding contributions to the arts and sciences, work with charitable and welfare organizations, and public service outside the civil service.

★ - ★ - ★

Hope you enjoyed reading this bit of Doctor Who/Black History! Please feel free to add to this post with more black history in Doctor Who!

[fic-over-cannon]

jason todd returns to gotham city full of fire and biblical vengeance but it's not the same place he remembers.

there's a plaque on the park bench right outside of the public library that wasn't there before. it reads "in memory of jason todd-wayne: a son who is loved as much as he loved books". the wood of the bench is weathered, but the brass of the plaque still shines.

nostalgia drives jason todd to visit his favourite gargoyle, worn and familiar. what is strange are the flowers left there. little robin figurines and keychains. we remember you, the city whispers.

curiosity drives jason todd to look up the newest robin, only to be redirected to a digital memorial himself. gothamites offering up the worst moments of their lives that were just another tuesday to jason. how grateful they are to him. how sad they are that he is gone. how much they love the second robin that flew high for them.

jason todd is a son of gotham, and as much as he might forget it in the heat haze of anger, she remembers him.

[classicmemorialbenches]

Techniques we use to depicting images on memorial bench designs

At Classic we have a number of techniques we use to depict images on our memorial bench designs and one of our favourite things to do is the colour resin inlay. There are several techniques that can be used. Here are,

✅Preparing the artwork

✅Carving the shapes into the wood

✅Pouring all of the colours

✅Skimming off the excess glue

✅clamped

[aydracz]

Good Omens Scavenger Hunt in London

Something's up again! Shax visited the Bandstand today to deliver Crowley's mail.

But Crowley was nowhere to be found and so she left the mail behind one of the benches around the Bandstand - together with some amazing art from @drimmsydra and @fuzzywhispersbear !

To find all the treasures, look for an angel among the bench plaques.

Please reblog this post so that it reaches as many fans as possible ❤️

Love you all!

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[juanarc-thethird]

Be My House Husband p3

At the Vale Summer Fair

Jaune is participating in a cooking competition. This year's theme is barbecue. So he brought along his famous pork ribs covered in a special siracha and barbecue sauce. Plus a few secret ingredients that are valid in the competition rules.

Jaune: *Shaking a little*

Coco: Nervous?

Jaune: Hm? Oh! Coco, I didn't expect to see you here.

Coco: And miss out on a chance to see you, hottie? Not even in dreams.

Normally Jaune would blush at this point and tell her to stop, but he doesn't say anything. Coco stares at him and she can see that he's distracted. His mind is elsewhere.

Coco: Jaune?

Jaune: Oh sorry! Yes?

Coco: Are you okay? *She asks concerned*

Jaune: Y-Yes, I'm totally fine.

Coco: Jaune....

She stares into Jaune's eyes and he sighs.

Jaune: This isn't my first time doing this, actually. I really put a lot of effort into my dish. But I don't think it's enough. I mean, look at the guy over there. He brought a whole pig, the guy over there brought three-meat sausages, and the guy over there…

At that moment Coco took his hand and he stops. He then looks at her and Coco starts talking.

Coco: Jaune, I've eaten your food and I can safely say that you are the best chef I know. There's no way you're going to lose this competition.

Jaune: But the others...

Coco: Forget about the others. In the end, what will decide the winner is not how complicated the dish was, but how tasty it is. So believe in yourself the same way I believe in you, okay?

Jaune stares at her for a few seconds, absorbing every word she said. That calmed him down a bit and with a smile he answers back.

Jaune: You're right, I have to trust in my abilities. Thanks Coco.

Coco: You're welcome, tiger. *She winks at him* Now where are the rest of your friends? I thought I'd run into your team or team RWBY by now.

Jaune: They couldn't come.

Coco: What? Why?

Jaune: They had plans, but that's okay.

Coco: If you say so. Oh! I think the judges are coming. Good luck!

She then gives him two thumbs up and walks away.

Jaune: *Looking at her walk away* Thank you.

The competition continued and after a couple of hours, the judges finally came to a decision. All the contestants are standing on the podium as they await the results. While spectators watch attentively from the stands.

The master of ceremonies together with the judges are in front of the podium. Two of them hold a trophy and a plaque while the other holds the envelope with the winner.

Master of ceremonies: Ladies and Gentlemen's. After a long discussion, the judges came to a decision.

Judge 1: *gives him the envelope*

Master of ceremonies: *He takes an envelope and starts to open it* This year's winner is… *He pulls out the paper and…* Jaune Arc!

Jaune: *Shock* What?

Coco: Heck Yeah!! That's my future husband! WOOHOO!!!

Jaune walks to the center of the podium and receives his first place plaque and trophy.

Judge 1: *Shakes his hand* Congratulations, young man.

The crowd applauds in excitement. People then approach him to congratulate him and talk a little more about his dish. It was a great day for him. As time went by the celebration began to die down and he stepped away from everyone to get some air. He finds an empty bench and sits down.

Jaune: *Sighs*

Coco: I told you you'd win.

Jaune turned to see Coco giving her famous smile. But this time she looked different, Jaune could see how the warm light of the festival made her skin shine like the sunset. Her eyes were so beautiful; dark brown like wood. And her hair, was her hair always looked this nice?

Coco: Hello~ Jaune are you there?

Jaune: *Blushing* Huh?! Oh! Sorry! I was thinking on something else.

Coco: Was it about me?~💕

Jaune: *Red* Huh?!!

Coco: Hahaha, I'm just messing with you. Can I sit beside you?

Jaune: *Looks away* S-Sure.

She sits beside him and looks at the starry sky.

Coco: Today the stars look beautiful, don't you think?

Jaune: *Looks at Coco* I... I think so

Coco: *Looks at him* So how do you plan to celebrate your victory?

Jaune: Um... well, I never thought about that.

Coco: That's what I thought, that's why I took the liberty of calling everyone to tell them about your victory and preparing a table for us at Imos Pizza, your favorite pizzeria. My treat.

Jaune: *Smiles* Thank you, Coco.

Coco: Don't even mention it. Now get up and let's eat.

She stands up but jaune grabs her hand.

Jaune: Wait

Coco: Hm?

Jaune: Before we go I just want to say that… Well… Thank you very much for your help.

Coco: It was nothing.

Jaune: It was something!

Coco was a little surprised by Jaune's raised voice. So she looks at him intently, paying attention to every word.

Jaune: I was so nervous about this competition and I thought my friends would be here to support me. But they couldn't come. But you came and not only helped me with my nerves, but you also trusted me. And that's why I… I…

Coco: *Nervous* (Is he... Is he about to....)

At that moment Coco's phone started ringing.

Coco: Sorry! *She immediately grabs her phone and puts it on silent* Sorry about that. You were saying…

Jaune: I... I want to thank you.

Coco: Just that?

Jaune: Y-Yes...

Coco: O-Ok, so should we go now?

Jaune: After you.

Coco: Ok

As she takes the lead while Jaune walks beside her, Jaune can't stop glancing at Coco and a crazy idea pops into his head.

Coco: By the way, Jaune. *She turns to look at him* What kind of pizza do you wan-!!!

At that moment Coco is kissed by Jaune on the lips. She freezes and a few seconds later Jaune realizes what he did.

Jaune: Sorry! I just wanted to kiss you on the cheek! I didn't mean to kiss you on the lips! Um…! I'll see you at the restaurant!

Jaune ran away, leaving Coco behind. Coco can't believe what just happened, and slowly a huge smile fills her face. Jaune just kissed her.

Coco: *giggling like a school girl* Jaune just kissed me. He freaking kiss me! Today is the best day of my life!!

[greenbarnorchidsupplies]

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