#flush cache

[tropiyas]

I did the thing where you said someone's joke after them except louder but it was by ACCIDENT I literally did not register until it was too late

[bynux]

hey I'm sorry I stopped in the middle of that sentence my brain decided to flush its cache and I totally forgot what this conversation was

[web-hosting174]

Learn how to flush the DNS cache in Chrome with our ultimate guide to chrome://net-internals/#dns. Clear DNS cache to fix website loading issues now.

[fixotip]

How To Fix Error Waiting For Available Socket In Google Chrome?

How To Fix Error Waiting For Available Socket In Google Chrome?

Google Chrome is a highly used browser on pc as well as mobile phones. It is a smart browser and shows errors with codes. To understand these codes you can easily solve the problem. Just like the ‘Waiting for available socket‘ error code mainly comes if the date and time of the PC are wrong. There are some more reasons for socket errors in the Google Chrome browser. However, in this article, you…

[dez78]

A night of passion

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

As requested by @ghoulspirits

Hope I captured the moment! Enjoy!

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

Fandom: Fallout 4

Pairings: Hancock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+)

Additional Tags: Smut with plot, romantic Hancock, Public sex, massage leads to sexy time.

Summary: You and Hancock finally find time to have a break and things get heated quick.

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

(Not my Gif)

You and Hancock headed into the Third Rail. The last few days have been hell, you have been retrieving caches and dead drops for the Railroad. You needed a break from the constant fighting, you yearned to just sit and have a beer.

"Hey Chuck, two beers." Hancock said as he leaned on the bar,

"Coming right up, mayor!" Charlie replied as he went over to the old, rusted out fridge.

You went to sit on the stool, but Hancock caught your wrist. You looked up at him with a perplexed expression on your weathered features.

"No, no, sweetheart. You and me got a reserved section in the VIP." Hancock said to you in a sensual tone. You quirked your eyebrow and smirked at him.

"Is that so?" You asked with a snarky tone and a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Hm mhm." Hancock hummed in response, he grabbed the two beers and whisked you away to the shadows of the VIP lounge, tucked away from the prying eyes.

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

Upon entering, Hancock handed you one of the beers. You took it and popped it open with your pipboy. You plopped down on the old, worn couch. The springs protested under yours and Hancock's weight.

The ghoul flipped his feet up, resting them on the ottoman, taking a swig of his beer. You sipped your own, relaxing finally. Your muscles were tense.

You felt all the pressure in your joints as you rolled your shoulders with a low groan and a furrowed brow.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Hancock questioned, looking over at you.

"Just sore from all that damn fighting and walking." You whined, rolling your neck.

"Well, I ain't no expert, but I can try to help." Hancock offered, you didn't respond verbally, only nodding your head.

Hancock sat up, he put his beer on the floor. You unzipped your vault suit, revealing your skin to your partner. Hancock bit back the moan as he saw your skin for the thousandth time. It didn't matter how many times he saw you; you still stole his breath.

His rough hand trailed down your smooth back, unclasping your bra with only two fingers. You sighed a long breath as you felt the freedom. Hancock watched his fingers mapping your skin and the details of it.

Then he gripped your shoulders, you groaned low, throwing your head back.

His palms and thumbs massaged in the right places. You felt the popping of your joints and the release of your muscle tensity. You were lost in the sensation that Hancock's voice sounded yards away.

When you came to, Hancock was laughing.

"Now come on, sunshine. You keep making those noises, I'll have to cut this short." He said as he growled low, his breath on your neck. You bit your lip; your cheeks were flushed a bright pink.

"Would that be such a horrible thing?" You questioned innocently.

"I would certainly take you up on that offer." Hancock replied, still massaging your neck and shoulders. You turned then, catching Hancock's breath. He bit his lip as his coal eyes were fixed on yours.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." He said stunned, admiring every detail of your face in the dim light. You were surprised, the first thing he didn't look at were your breasts, instead he fawned over your face, your eyes, your lips.

You smiled to yourself; he had his charm, but sometimes he was about more than sex. Only for you. You weren't an object or a one-night stand that meant nothing. You were his equal, his partner, you were his and he was yours.

Hancock cupped your jaw, you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. He hummed with contentment. He pulled you in and captured your lips in a tender kiss. He ran his other hand up your body, feeling every inch of your stomach before finally cupping one of your breasts in his large hand.

He gave you a gentle squeeze, you moaned into his mouth and that was his invitation. He dipped his tongue into your mouth. You let him in with no hesitation, your lips danced with each other in a smooth rhythm.

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

It wasn't long before things got hot and heavy, Hancock had torn off your vault suit and his own clothes. He held you up by your waist as he laid on top of you, leaving a trail of love bites across your neck and breasts. His fingers were graceful as he smoothed up your back.

He drove powerful thrusts into you, you were glistening with beads of sweat and were a mess of sound. It was music to Hancock's ears.

"That's right, baby girl. Let them know who you belong to." He rasped through thrusts. You cried out, arching your back. Hancock kept you steadied as your body convulsed for the fourth time that night.

Hancock leaned down, kissing your jawline as he slowed to an even pace. Giving you time to recover. He kissed your neck tenderly as he pushed into you slowly.

"You like that, sweetheart?" Hancock purred into your ear; you nodded slowly enjoying the feeling of him filling you up with his immensity.

"You're such a good girl for taking it all." Hancock praised you, you shuddered with delight as his voice rumbled against your sensitive skin. He kissed your lips with a tenderness he only had for you.

You usually liked it the way he gave it, but sometimes you wanted slow, and he provided and proved to be an excellent lover in both times. It all depended on you. He respected your feelings. He never did anything you were against. He always made sure you were okay and if you liked what he was doing. If not, then he'd stop.

He was never rough unless you wanted it. You loved that about him, he gave you options and freedom with your love life.

"You ready, love? Or do you want this some more?" Hancock asked you, kissing your neck gently.

"I want it rough." You growled, Hancock got that mischievous glint in his eye and gave you a devilish grin.

He sat up.

"Spread your legs for me, baby." He commanded, you opened your legs for him, and he devoured you. You threw your head back, screaming in bliss. Your thighs quivered. He was hitting your sweet spot. Your hair was falling over your face, wet from sweat.

Beads trickled down the curve of your breast, your lips were swollen, your body glistened, and your eyes sparkled. You were beautiful. It sent Hancock over the edge. You arched your back, contracting around your lover. Your whole body shook.

"Fuck." Hancock breathed with a hoarse laugh. You laid there for a moment, catching your breath. Hancock smiled, drawing circles on your stomach.

"Enjoy, sweetheart?" He smirked; your eyes were half lidded as you looked at him.

"What do you think?" You quipped with a tired smile. Hancock didn't say anything, just gave you his own genuine smile. You loved how he wore it. It suited him. You were the only one to ever see his true smile. He faked it for others, but he put all his trust in you.

You felt lucky to know him, the true him. Not the show ghoul that he put on for everyone else. The facade. You grabbed his face and pulled him on top of you. He rolled his tongue at you,

"Round two already?" He teased; you shook your head.

"No, just kiss me." You told him, he looked a bit surprised, but didn't protest to the request. He leaned down. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his lips against yours.

The kiss was sweet, not heavy and hot like it was moments ago. This one was tender, gentle, and full of love. Hancock poured his all his feelings into his kisses. This time was no different.

The two of you pulled away for only, but a moment. In that time, your eyes met. You saw the sincerity in Hancock's expression.

"I love you, sunshine." He said, brushing strands of hair from your sticky forehead, you smiled up at him.

"I love you too, John." You replied lovingly. Hancock's smile was bright, he loved his name on your lips, it was a beautiful sound, even more beautiful than your moans, he admitted.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours again, savoring the kiss. Savoring the moment. It was perfect, you were perfect.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Who vibes for Vibranium?

AN: Have a little short and sweet, sort of cracky Stucky sexual shenanigans story. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @metalbvcky but all errors are my fault.

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List

Summary: Steve likes to be indulged. It's a good thing Bucky likes to indulge him. Even if he's a thieving little big brat sometimes.

Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

WC: <1k

CW: AU: Not Canon Compliant, teasing, suggestive dialogue, Super-Soldier sexy shenanigans, discussion of impact play, discussion of bondage, Steve Rogers is a little shit, Soft Top Bucky Barnes, Bratty Bottom Steve Rogers, Fade to Black.

Bingo Fills and Challenges:

@stuckybingo I4 - Vibranium

“Come on, Buck. It’ll be fun.” Bucky pulled a face at Steve’s wheedling tone. He wasn’t convinced.

“Fun? Just sounds like a recipe for disaster to me.”

Steve sidled up to him, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist, looking into his eyes and doing his best Little Shit ™ pout. “Don’t you miss being able to hold me down. Like really stop me from moving.” Steve nuzzled into Bucky’s neck and Bucky let out a huff. 

“I miss it,” Steve continued, letting his teeth scrape over Bucky’s throat. Bucky closed his eyes and tried to think of the Presidents of the United States. “I miss feeling all helpless under you.” Steve’s fingers slipped up under the back of Bucky’s shirt and started to draw light patterns over his skin, making him shiver. “One vibranium arm can only do so much and I can’t work out a way for you to use my shield to help.”

“Steve,” Bucky cautioned. “This isn’t really a conversation about informed consent if you’re trying to get my dick to make the decision and not my brain. It’s cheating.”

Steve raised his head with a grin. “Is it working though?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, knowing he’d already lost the fight. “You’re such a punk, you know that?”

“But I’m your punk, and you love me.”

“Unfortunately so,” Bucky agreed. “Now, if you wanna do this, first you gotta hand ‘em over.”

Steve let go of him and practically skipped across their apartment. How a 6”2’ supersoldier could move like that Bucky didn’t know, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t stimulating to watch. It was also kinda cute, the way that Steve was getting giddy at the thought of doing something ‘kinky’. 

As two queer guys who’d grown up in the 30’s, neither were strangers to things that were nowadays termed as kinky, but no matter how long they’d been together, and how many different things they’d done, Steve was always enthusiastic, as though it was his first time, every time. 

When Steve returned from his little sojourn into his study, he was practically vibrating - ha! - with energy and he passed over his new toy with a grin.

“Do I even wanna know where you got these from?” Bucky asked. Of course this was the question that made Steve look a little embarrassed. His neck flushed pink and his left hand came up to brush over the hair at the back of his head. 

“I - uh - may have found them in the cache of recovered HYDRA hardware that Fury keeps in the upstate warehouse.”

“Steve Rogers,” Bucky let out, teasingly. “Are you telling me that you - the great and righteous Captain America - stole these Vibranium handcuffs?”

Steve startled “No! Not stole. Just - umm - borrowed.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and Steve had the good grace to look slightly cowed. “I mean - we might give them back?”

“If they help me beat your ass without struggling to keep you still they are definitely not going back,” Bucky retorted, failing to get the right tone of authority into his voice.

“You promise?” Steve asked slyly and Bucky shook his head in mild disbelief at his bratty boyfriend.

“The fucking audacity,” he said to no-one in particular, and then “Get in that bedroom, Rogers and strip. You’re getting ten for your cheek, and if you aren’t ready when I get in there, then it’s an extra ten.” 

“Oh no,” cried Steve with faux despair. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Nothing, if these work.” Bucky took a step closer, drawing himself up to his full height, despite that being two inches less than Steve’s. It had the desired effect though - science might have taken Steve out of his little body, but it hadn’t taken the memory of being in that little body out of Steve. Steve shrank down, now reacting to Bucky’s domineering aura. “You’ll do nothing except cry those sweet tears as I turn your ass red because you won’t be able to get away from me. You won’t be able to stop me. Now - do I have to tell you again? Get in there and strip.”

Steve turned, scurrying into the bedroom as fast as he could with his cock doing its best impression of a flagpole between his legs. 

Smiling to himself, Bucky looked at the cuffs, inspecting them and working out how they opened and closed. The last thing he wanted was for them to get stuck, even if the thought  of Stark being mentally scarred for life having to come and help remove them was amusing as hell.

“Time to see if these work,” he muttered to himself, before calling out “Ready or not, here I come.”

Over an hour later

“Yup,” Bucky said with a smile as he stretched out. “Those definitely work.”

Steve groaned and buried his head into Bucky’s side, while lying on his stomach. “My ass is on fire,” he complained.

Bucky sniggered. “Quit your whining, you big baby. You only have yourself to blame. And you’ll be all healed up in an hour. Two, tops.”

As Steve huffed against him and threw an arm across his stomach, Bucky picked up the cuffs from where he’d deposited them after removing them from Steve’s wrists. He turned them over in his hands, pondering.

“I wonder,” he said, “if we got a metal footboard whether these would magnetise strongly enough to it that I could use them to keep your legs apart…”

Steve let out a moan that wasn’t entirely one of despair. “Buck, let me recover before you start trying to turn me on again.”

With a smile still on his lips, Bucky leant over and places a kiss to the top of Steve’s sweaty head.

“Love you, punk.”

“Love you too, jerk.”

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @crayongirl-linz, @mightstill, @nicoline1998enilocin, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Well & Truly Married - Mal de Mer

Is this, Mel wonders, a milestone?

Mal de Mer

cw: peeing, and a conversation during. (I warned 'yall.)

Snippet:

In the aftermath, fatigue—the great equalizer—fells them both.

It's late noon when they stir again. The sun is higher now, the shadows longer.  Their spent bodies, caught in the liquid pull of gravity, are still fused.  She cradles him in the circle of her arms and legs; he is nearly boneless, as if she's drained him dry.  The soft rhythmic tickle of his breath, warm on her throat, is the only sign of life.  Even his heartbeat, usually a ruthlessly steady cadence, has slowed to a lullaby under her palm.

Mel pictures the child in her womb: a tiny, perfect gift, tucked in a bed of bliss.

She smiles.

"Silco," she whispers, and drops a kiss to his damp forehead. "Wake up."

A drowsy rumble. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because if I do, you'll go."

"We're in the middle of the sea, my love." The unaccustomed endearment slips off her tongue. "Where would I possibly go?"

"Back to the shore."

The simplicity of the statement steals her breath. She has to swallow twice before the words come. "And leave you, is that it?" His silence is a sullen confirmation. She seals another kiss to his temple, right above his bad eye. "Never, Schatz. Not unless you ask me to."

"Good." He burrows closer. "I've no intention of asking."

Mel hides her smile in the dark crown of his head. Her fingers, tracing the ridges of his spine, encounter a terrain of welts. Some have scabbed up. Others are rawly oozing. The memory of her own frenzy is a guilty sting.

And yet all she can think is: How lovely.

His body, like a canvas, holds the imprint of all her spent passions. A signature he'll carry under his clothes for days. She's claimed him, and she's proud.

And she needs a bath.

With effort, Mel extricates herself from the languid tangle of arms and legs. Silco, with a groggy growl, tries to drag her back. But Mel's will is a match for his—and the pressure in her bladder is verging on painful. She manages, with coaxing tugs, to persuade him that a shared soak is a more worthwhile pursuit than lazing in a bed full of stale fluids. 

Not bothering with dressing-gowns, they pad, naked and wobbly, across the tiles. In the brightness, Mel can see the full extent of the damage they've done. A constellation of contusions—red, purple, green, yellow, blue—stains their bodies in visceral record.

"You’re beautiful like this," Silco says, idling by the tub as it fills.

"I look like a bruised plum."

"You do." He comes up behind her, arms snaking about her waist. "A juicy, well-fucked plum."

"What an appalling metaphor."

"No less true."

She half-turns in his embrace. Her fingertips trace the mottled discoloration below his collarbone.

"And what does that make you?" she muses. "The apple of my eye?"

"Too poisonous."

"And yet the sweetest I've tasted."

He scoffs. But his arms tighten around her.  It's a discrepancy she's slowly becoming aware of. From irreproachably aloof for days, he is now disclosing a secret cache of neediness. His hands can't seem to stray from her body. If she's more than an arm's length away, his eyes follow as if magnetized.

At the toilet, she hopes he'll grant her privacy. Unfazed, he props a shoulder against the doorframe and watches. It's a testament to Mel's own wrung-out stupor that there is no self-consciousness. Only a strange new species of intimacy.

After last night, there are few secrets left to guard between them. 

Then Silco strolls over, and takes himself in hand. Reflexively, Mel scoots back as he aims squarely between her parted legs. There is the splash of water on water. Her first frisson of alarm mutes into a droll amusement.

The exchange is the most surreal, and surreally matter-of-fact, she's ever had with a man.

"Does this mean the honeymoon is well and truly over?" she muses, as he tugs the latch of the flush.

Leaning over, Silco drops a kiss on her hair. "It means we're well and truly married."

It is no love lyric. But a laugh bubbles out of her.

This, she decides, is a side of him well worth the wait.

[lensman-arms-race]

Miscellaneous Skibidi Toilet ideas (part 3)

The only way to kill a Skibidi for good is to properly destroy the head (shooting, stabbing, etc.). If you only flush it, the Skibidi head is only temporarily out of action, and will later respawn in another empty toilet. (That's why the war is still going on - the alliance doesn't realise this and relies too much on flushing.)

---

Microphones and speakers are the same thing, just specialised in different directions. (That not a headcanon; that's literally true IRL. Any speaker can function as a crude microphone and vice versa.) Therefore, some cameras can learn to use their microphone as a tiny speaker, enabling them to audibly vocalise a bit (just very quietly and tinnily).

This would also explain why the Skibidi-possessed cameras are able to join in the 'skibidi skibidi skibidi' chant; they're sounding it out through their microphones.

They probably can't use their microphones as a mic and a speaker at the same time, so if they choose to talk out loud, they can't hear anything as they say it.

---

Imagine speakers enjoying discovering a cache of human-made music, until they stumbled across Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music and were like '…no no no no NO NO NO not that one!'

That album was made by Reed playing an electric guitar and putting a microphone between 2 amplifiers and recording the resulting feedback. Speakers would probably think that was so wrong!

---

Imagine hardware-heads being fascinated by humans being able to increase their strength through weight-lifting and other training. It means that humans can effectively self-upgrade. They'd probably be in awe of our tissues' ability to self-repair too.

---

Cameras see at a fixed framerate, resulting in some interesting effects when recording something that's in sync with the framerate. (This is a thing IRL; you've probably already seen clips of helicopter rotors or plane propellors in sync with a video camera, making it look as though the aircraft is mysteriously hovering without moving its engines.)

Therefore, with a bit of 'Hollywood logic', you could write something with Skibidis developing stealth technology that takes advantage of this effect, blinking out of existence during each frame. The stealthy Skibidi is undone when the hardware-heads call in a human ally to help - human eyes' saccades are too random for the Skibidi to keep up, and the human can see them!

(I won't go into saccades to avoid derailing the post, but look them up when you get a moment. The way eyes work is nuts!)

---

Silliness: imagine a hardware-head trying to access a human webpage but they can't because they don't tick the 'prove you're human/not a robot' tickbox. They think it's just a preferences thing; they don't realise it controls access to the page.

---

What would hardware-heads think of normal human-made hardware? Would it be creepy to them? If an Alliance camera saw a human-made CCTV camera on a pole, would that be disturbing because it's like a severed head? Or would it be fine because it's clearly a different thing from themselves? Or maybe it would be funny like a Halloween decoration, in the same way we might be amused by a funny skull on display.

---

The Titans' brains are so colossal and powerful that they could do Bitcoin-mining calculations in their heads just for fun.

---

Part 1 | Part 2 | Feel free to add more!

[broomsick]

I finally took the time to finish (pardon the pun) reading the Kalevala Crawford translation! Here's the link to the online cache, for those interested.

One of my favorite passages:

Lemminkainen, much dejected, Broken-hearted, flushed with anger, Spake these words in measured accents: “Mother dear, my gray-haired mother, Wilt thou straightway wash my linen In the blood of poison-serpents, In the black blood of the adder? I must hasten to the combat, To the camp-fires of the Northland, To the battle-fields of Lapland; To the village went Kyllikki, To the play of merry maidens, To the games and village dances, With the maids of braided tresses.”

Straightway speaks the wife, Kyllikki: “My beloved husband, Ahti, Do not go to war, I pray thee. In the evening I lay sleeping, Slumbering I saw in dream-land Fire upshooting from the chimney, Flames arising, mounting skyward, From the windows of this dwelling, From the summits of these rafters, Piercing through our upper chambers, Roaring like the fall of waters, Leaping from the floor and ceiling, Darting from the halls and doorways.”

[mspinky1]

TARI.EXE (Puzzlevision Corruption)

I'm not even kidding, I had a dream where that TV guy and Tari have some sort of connection and kidnapped her so she becomes his property again, forcing the SMG4 gang to go through endless unwanted simulations to entertain him. I've been thinking about that dream repeatedly, and ever since Western Spaghetti I did want there to be some sort of connection. Can't wait to see more of TV Guy (or Puzzlevision as it says on his face). Also, the background text are just command prompt text, or rather Tari's programming. I've been finding so many examples of how to do program writing.... or coding? Idk lol. At some point my brain just stopped working. Anyways, i'll put below what the text says, and if you pay attention to the numbers in the written sequence, you'll see some hidden detail (Hint: The numbers are episode dates).

Background Text:

TASCORP Windows [Version 17.6.02023]

(c) 2023 TASCORP Corporation. All rights reserved.

C: \Users\TARI>ipconfig/flushDNS

Windows IP Configuration

Successfully flushed the DNS Resolver Cache.

C: \>taskkill /f /im TARI.exe

SUCCESS : The process "TARI.exe" with PID 250818 has been terminated.

C: \>winge install "Puzzlevision SIM"

Found Puzzlevision SIM [TASCORP.Puzzlevision SIM] Version 28.10.23

This application is licensed to you by its owner.

TASCORP is not responsible for, nor does it grant any licenses to, third-party packages.

Downloading https://puzzlevisionsiminstall.net.com/stable/smg4/Setup-v28.10.23.exe

90.0 MB / 90.0 MB

Successfully verified installer hash

Starting Package install . . .

Successfully installed

X: \windows\system23>cd C: \Windows\system23

C: \windows\system23>systemreset

PUZZLEVISION SIMUL. Windows

Copyright (C) Puzzlevision Corporation. All rights reserved.

C: \WINDOWS\system23>sfc /scannow

Beginning system scan. This process will take some time.

Beginning verification phase of system scan.

Verification 100% complete.

Puzzlevision Resource Protection found corrupt files and successfully repaired them.

Puzzlevision Resource Protection did not find any integrity violations.

[dairy-farmer]

what do you think about clarktim? tim cheating on conner with his daddy for example or tim cheating on bruce with his own best friend… after sleeping with tim once when he was just a child, clark can never resist tim’s little cunnie. the size difference between clark’s 12 inch kryptonian cock vs tim’s extremely underaged pussy drives him crazy… i love tim getting groomed 💙

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ahhhhhh!!!!!!!!! clarktim is so good!!!! i've only vaguely written about it once in a fic and a little bit here on tumblr but it is soo good!!!!!1 i love the idea of clark having fucked tim when he was a kid. he was freshly robin and trying to prove to bruce he could trust him!! somehow "alien tech" ends up in gotham and superman is also tracing it and he's recently had a fight with bruce and he's not looking for another argument so he's being discrete and well technically the shipment was just outside gotham borders in a warehouse so it's not really batman's jurisdiction- but that warehouse is where tim also ends up. the two of them after spotting each other and doing the whole 'mouths "what are you doing here?" from across the room' find out its not alien tech that was being bought and sold. it was alien drugs. aphrodisiacs. they end up getting drugged while investigating the hidden storage cache containing it and its like ivy's pollen but dialed up to a million and capable of affecting even superman.

the two of them recall the night with startling clarity despite the haziness of what happened. clark especially recalls it, as much as he tries to shove the thoughts and memories away. he can remember his monstrous cock resting on tim's abdomen reaching all the way to a little above his belly button and staring down at tim as his little hands jacked him off, getting him to hardness while clark's fingers fucked and spread apart into a 'V' in tim's little hole. the opening was barely the size of a quarter. it must've been the drugs because tim was so wet he coated clarks entire hand in wetness. the drugs also must've had some muscle relaxant and numbing effect because clark was able to sink in the head of his cock with barely a sound from tim who arched up his naked chest to clark who scattered kisses all across his little breasts, gently sucking on a pink little nipple as he rocked his cock in deeper and deeper into a hot, tight little hole. clark was just too big for tim, if he tried bottoming out he might actually kill him so he contents himself with the sight of being able to fuck a third of his cock in before it got to be too much and tim's forehead cutely scrunched up.

tim's sweet pink mouth fell open and he gasped at each press in of clark's cock, the spongey head kissed the opening to tim's womb. clark groaned at the sight, using his x-ray vision to look down at where he was fucking tim's pretty baby cunt. clark moaned as he watched the fat head of his cock drooling white precum and smeared it against the hot pink of tim's cervix. the lips of tim's cunt were a distressed red flush, a result from the painful stretch of clark's girth and the burning friction of every harsh thrust into him. tim's hands were spread helplessly at his side, his head rolling back and forth as his sweet mouth let out the prettiest sounds at clark fucking him.

the memories of what occurred in that warehouse haunt clark for years to come.

they never tell anyone.

clark out of shame and tim out of the desire for bruce to not know how badly he'd screwed up. sometimes clark will wake up from a dream and be hard and he'll do his best to imagine anyone but tim. his wife, a model he had a crush on as a teenager, old classmates, other capes.

but in the end all he can think about is pulling tim's green robin leggings off and being greeted by a little pink naked pussy that he promptly leaves gaping open and dripping with his heavy, white cum.

when they both came back to their senses on that concrete floor clark immediatly broke into near tears with how hard he started breathing and apologizing and self-flagellating. tim assured him it was alright. he said it hadn't been clark's fault. but clark hadn't believed him. he'd wanted to take responsibility, make up for it.

and tim had gotten this...this odd look in his eye that reminded clark uncomfortably of the look on bruce's face when something went right according to plan. somehow...tim made him promise to not tell batman, he told clark that batman could never know how badly tim screwed up.

maybe it was the drugs still in his system but clark agreed and shakily helped them both clean up and get dressed.

clark flew tim to gotham and dropped him off behind a convenience store where clark bought him a chocolate bar, a soda, and... a morning-after pill on tim's insistence. only that when clark gets up to the register to pay he doesn't have enough money. thankfully tim lent him the remaining amount.

clark felt like the ground could swallow him up with the shame he felt standing in line as tim put down a handfull of twenties but its the shame that stops the indignance from bleeding through when he realized the cashier wasn't even blinking at clark, a grown man, buying a morning after pill for tim, who was clearly a child.

gotham was a horrifying place.

tim swears him to secrecy in that parking lot and clark, in his shame, swears to never tell, believing he's doing the right thing.

but a few years later and clark still never forgets. neither does tim. maybe that's how they wind up fucking everytime they cross paths.

in the watchtower when batman brings him or when red robin is meant to lend a hand they inevitably seek each other out like two homing missiles. clark has superspeed and superhearing and its not hard for him to find them somewhere private both on the watchtower or off. even when tim and superboy, clark's pseudo son begin dating it continues.

bruce has made his displeasure at his son and clark's "son's" relationship known many times and clark is certain he would be even more displeased to know what clark was doing. so he stays quiet about regularly fucking tim's little pussy and asking him if his cock feels as good as conner's.

clark keeps quiet because he never loses the shame he feels at his and tim's affair. he's friends with tim's father, he's conner's father-

if ma or pa ever knew they'd be so disappointed. dick, bruce, and so many others would be so disappointed and conner- he'd be so hurt to know clark was fucking the boyfriend he loved so much, the one he talked to clark about marrying, about having a baby with.

it would ruin too much. destroy too much.

so clark, like the first time it happened in that remote warehouse, says nothing.

[may-extensioncharm]

anonymous  asked:

what addons do you use for firefox? i've just downloaded it to switch from chrome (derogatory)

somecunttookmyurl  answered:

firefox (affectionate)

UBlock Origin obviously. out-the-box works just fine but has a bunch of extra privacy/tracking/spam filters you can enable

Decentraleyes protects you against tracking through “free” curated content delivery and works alongside UBlock (or any of the other common adblocking addons)

I Don’t Care About Cookies good for EU users where GDPR made it so every site ever in the universe asks you to accept cookies and privacy terms seventeen times a day. will just auto-accept for you. never see an annoying popup again! but only use in conjunction with…

Cookie Auto Delete does what it says on the tin. will automatically flush cookies, cache, and data when you close a tab. those cookies you just auto accepted? they’re gone now. whitelist any sites you wanna stay logged in on and let the rest fucking perish

Don’t Track Me Google removes that annoying link conversion when you copy google results. you know when it changes from “site.com” to “encrypted.google.com/randomnonsensefor200charactersblahblahblah”? yeah. this stops that happening. fuck off, google.

Don’t Accept image/webp blocks sites from using the most useless file extension known to mankind so you can save as .jpg or .gif as god intended. fuck webp. seriously. what even is that.

Bypass Paywalls Clean exactly what you think it is

HTTPS Everywhere automatically adds ecrypted security to any site that supports https (you can do this manually by adding the s yourself to any url but… who can be fuckin bothere amirite? this does it for you)

New XKit …duh

Google Search Filter allows you to remove domains from your searches forever. pinterest? gone. weheartit? nuked. also works on duckduckgo. never type “-pinterest” into a search again.

Simple Tab Groups allows you to group tabs together and shove them out of sight, which is nice if you’re researching something and don’t want 50 bajillion jstor tabs clogging up your normal browsing session

[theeyoungalabastor]

Here is a sneak peek at what is to come for the FNAF SB reader insert book!

You were in its territory.

A shuddering breath leaks past the gaps between your trembling fingers. Palms clammy and slick with sweat.

Hysteria vibrated your numbed nerves as yet another savage growl rumbles somewhere from inside the thing's chest, a wild animalistic hiss squeezing from its voice box; thunderous footsteps shook the ground with a clash of metal against metal, instilling terror into your core, leadening your cumbersome limbs with perturbation.

Both ears rang deafeningly as blood rushed to each eardrum, making your head feel unnaturally lighter, muting the artificial sounds of crickets and frog songs that play overhead from the speakers.

"Where are you~" Its gravelly voice sang with a sickly-sweet tune that broke the barrier of sonorous as this rabid dread-filled game of hide and seek drew farther. But the predator drew closer.

The pungent smell of mildew wafted the naturally muggy air to compliment the aesthetic to which the expanse presented. Lush green carpeting lined beneath your feet, the patterns adorned the themed animatronic, to who, coincidentally, stalked the shadows within the vastness of the space where you had foolishly hemmed yourself in, searching for its prey.

You were stuck, trapped; hidden behind a flimsy display, the massive cardboard cutout of your aggressor's head was laid lax against a red and green wall, patterned with leafy palms as the giftshop's name hung not far from your cache, unique neon colors glaring heatedly, illuminating the room with ferocity.

A few gnashing lusters of neon light line your face, trembling fingers that gripped your mouth lit with the nauseating colors as you peek from behind a display, shelf nestled flush against the very same wall the cutout that concealed your figure leaned upon.

Your stomach dropped.

Only then did you grow acutely aware of the screaming, tense silence that befell the room you sought refuge in.

You don't recall hearing it leave, nor do you remember seeing those rage filled eyes disappear from the dark corners of the thing's berth.

And it was just then that you noticed the room fall into an abnormal shadow.

It was too late to pull back farther behind the cardboard as two vermillion eyes peer from beneath a pair of distinctly rimmed star glasses. Tufts of artificial red hair dancing with the gales of shallow breaths that weasel past your dry cracked lips.

You pressed your sweat-dampened palm closer to your mouth, an attempt to stifle the whimper that unwillingly was drawn from your throat.

His snout looked to form a twisted grin as his head tilts to the side in a single smooth motion, too fluent to belong to that of a hulking animatronic.

Another beastial hiss tumbles from his jaws, sounding from the back of his throat, echoing within the empty confines of his metal chest.

At the sound of his voice, a sob tore from your esophagus.

"I found you."

[defilerwyrm]

every so often i get real frustrated with tumblr constantly suggesting a tag i used exactly once 6 months ago before it suggests a much simpler one that i use all the fucking time

and then tumblr goes and flushes its cache for tag suggestions so there are NONE and I’m like

[postapocalyptic-cryptic]

Fort Max/Red Alert stupid sappy idiots fuckin. Gonna put it on ao3 later but I have to go to class so enjoy. No minors below the cut.

“Nggh, Max, so big,” Red Alert gasps. He’s flat on his back on their berth, clawing frantic lines in the warm metal as Fortress Maximus sinks into him. “Frag.” 

Max pauses with one impossibly strong hand on Red Alert’s waist and the other braced on the berth by his head. He’s worked a little more than half of his spike into Red Alert’s valve. Red Alert thinks his whole frame might be reshaping itself around it. It’s intense. “Are you alright?” Fort Max asks, breathless. “Do I need to slow down?” 

Red Alert makes a strangled sort of pleading noise, the only thing he can manage with his processor full of Max’s spike and the molten, throbbing need in his valve, his node, spreading through his whole frame. Max had overloaded him once already, opening him up with his mouth on Red Alert’s node, and it’s left him lax-framed and somehow even more charged up than before. If Max stops now, he thinks he might actually die. He’s still giving Red Alert that worried look and, more importantly, he hasn’t started moving again, so Red Alert pulls himself together enough to say, “No, I’m alright, keep going.” 

“You sure—?” “Max,” Red Alert moans. “Max, if you don’t get your spike in me in the next thirty kliks I’m going to blow a fuse.” He tries to push closer, and the shift of Max’s spike inside him rips a desperate sound from his vocalizer. 

Max’s engine roars. “Fuck,” he swears, shifting his weight back onto his knees in order in to put both his hands on Red Alert’s waist. “Frag, Red, do you have any idea what you do to me?” 

He wants to answer, has something snarky on the tip of his tongue, but then Max sits up and pulls Red Alert with him, just picks him up and sits him on his lap like he’s a doll, and Red Alert’s processor shorts out. Those last few inches of Max’s spike slip into his valve as Fort Max settles him on his thighs and suddenly he’s very, very full. Max is everywhere, hands on Red Alert’s hips, pressed chest-to-chest, Red’s legs spread wide to accommodate Max’s huge frame, and oh Primus, his spike. Red Alert can feel it twitching deep in his valve, huge and hot and filling every inch of him. It’s thick, easily as big around as Red Alert’s wrist, and covered in ridges caching on every oversensitive node in his valve. No matter how many times he gets Max’s spike in him, the feeling of it overwhelms him. The first time they’d done this, Red Alert had overloaded before Max could even get all the way in, and then overloaded again a few strokes in. He’d never screamed during interface before, but they’d gotten a noise complaint the next day. 

He doesn’t remember offlining his optics, but he onlines them again at the touch of Max’s forehead to his. Max regards him with dimmed optics. His throbbing spike and roaring vents would give his composure away, but Red Alert already knows he’s a wreck. His face is so flushed Red Alert can feel the heat radiating off him, and he’s trembling. “Ready?” 

“Yeah,” Red Alert breathes. “I’m ready.” 

Max kisses him quick, then pulls away and tightens his grip on Red Alert’s waist. Red Alert’s hands fly up and he grabs Max’s shoulders just in time to hang on for dear life as Max starts bouncing him on his spike. With his legs spread wide around Max’s hips and Max’s grip on his waist, Red Alert is totally helpless. There’s no leeway, not an inch of control over his own frame. All he can do is hang on as Max frags him hard. Every thrust jars his entire frame, sends bolts of pleasure through his core and leaves him moaning helplessly, needy and uncontrolled. “Oh, Max, so good. Don’t stop, frag, please don’t stop.” 

He onlines his optics again just in time to see Fort Max snarl, baring fangs sharp and thick enough to pierce armor. “Look at you,” Max growls. “You take me so well.” 

Red Alert whines. “So close, ‘m gonna overload, please.” 

“Yeah?” Max thrusts up into him and pulls him down at the same time and both of them cry out. “I want you to come on my spike, Red. Touch yourself.” 

Red Alert sobs the moment he gets his hand on his node. Max doesn’t let up even as Red Alert’s charge peaks, as his valve clenches around Max’s spike and hs frame locks up and he loses himself entirely to the overload. 

It goes on forever, throbbing waves of pleasure whiting out his optics and entirely silencing all higher processing. Vaguely, he registers Max groan, holding Red Alert close as he overloads. 

He comes back to himself a minute or so later, slumped against Max’s chest with his spike still softening in Red Alert’s valve. Max is holding him, face pressed against the top of Red Alert’s helm like he likes to do after a good overload. He likes having Red Alert close. Sap. 

He doesn’t want to move yet. Max is warm and comfortable and he’s enjoying the afterglow far too much to plan on anything except a nap. “Love you,” he slurs into Max’s plating. 

Max purrs. “Love you, too, Red.”

[uncharismatic-fauna]

March Along with the Eciton Army Ant

The eciton army ant (Eciton burchellii) is one of 200 ant species that have been given the name ‘army ant’. This is due to their aggressive foraging tactics, which consist of hundreds of thousands of individuals marching together in a column that are up to 200m long. These ‘raids’ catch a variety of insects, including wasps, spiders, and termites, as well as small vertebrates like frogs, lizards, birds, and small mammals. While stripping larger animals, like people, is theoretically possible, it would take a raid group several days to do so and only a few cases of human deaths have ever been reported; in all cases the victim was incapacitated in some way beforehand. In addition, E. burchellii is typically only active during the day and make enough noise as a group that spotting them is quite easy.

Many insectivorous animals, especially birds and larger reptiles, prey on army ants. In addition, the movements of raid groups attract a variety of other insects, reptiles, birds, and small mammals that are able to hunt the smaller arthropods flushed out by E. burchellii’s swarm. The most famous are members of the antbird family Thamnophilidae, which actively track army ant movements to take advantage of the flush of prey. This is a form of feeding called kleptoparasitism, and eciton army ants counteract this by dragging larger prey items under leaf litter or storing food caches along the trail.

E. burchellii forgaing parties comprise about a third of a colony’s population; the total size ranges between 100,000 and 2,000,000 individuals. Workers make up the majority of this number. There are four distinct worker castes: minors (minims), medias, porters (sub-majors), and soldiers (majors). Each performs different fuctions within the colony, such as storing food, tending the queen, caring for larvae, or acting as shields for the rest of the colony. Some worker ants also come together to form a living nest called a bivouc with their bodies, with the queen and larvae at the center. This nest only moves at night, and only when all available prey in an area has been exhausted or thermal conditions are no longer tolerable.

The queen’s sole purpose in the colony is to reproduce, and she does so almost constantly. In the dry season, workers find and bring back a winged male for the queen to mate with. The queen must store the male’s sperm, as he dies just two days after mating. Within the next three weeks, she begins laying an average of 100,000 eggs; most of these are sterile workers, but about a dozen are queens or reproductive males. When the queens and males mature, they depart from the colony-- queens are accompanied by workers who bond to her through chemical scents while males remain solitary. The egg laying process continues year-round, though whenever a new male is found he is presented to the queen. These eggs and the ensuing larvae are transported with the colony whenever it moves. Workers live for only a few months, while a queen may live for several years.

The appearance of eciton army ants can vary greatly depending on an individual’s caste. The queen is the largest, at 12mm, and is almost completely blind. The workers range from 3mm-12mm in length. Most are red, orange, or gold, with long, pointed mandibles. Those of the soldier are particularly large, to guard the bivouc and raids. E. burchellii workers also have more elongated bodies than other ant species, and the thorax is generally smaller.

There are a dozen army ant species in Central and South America, including E. burchellii, as well as several other families of army ants. Eciton army ants can be found in tropical rainforests from Mexico to Paraguay, although their most famous location is in the Amazon Rainforest of central South America. They usually form their nests and forage directly on the ground, though occasionally bivoucs have been found in the lower branches of trees.

Conservation status: The IUCN has not granted a status to eciton army ants, as they are widespread throughout their range and have a large population.

if you like what I do, consider buying me a ko-fi!

Photos

Daniel Kronauer

Geoff Gallice

Jesús Moreno Navarro (via iNaturalist)

Gernot Kunz (via iNaturalist)