#primitive wiggles

[mcromwell]

"Re-Coil" and a little ramble about authenticity and original characters.

[the-altered-sequence]

I'm not good at making things that are hard to share.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 4

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You check yourself in the mirror. The black bob isn’t a bad look. You tilt your head back and forth making the sleek strands wiggles back and forth. The sunglasses complete the look and you ponder overhauling your usual style. You look dangerous.

You resist scratching under the wig and give yourself a smile. You look almost devilish in the get up but you can’t chance being recognised on your mission. No, this is very important. This is revenge. Served tepid.

You sneak out the backdoor and check your phone. You have another message from your new friend. She texted you earlier that she had a new cell already. You hang onto yours like gold, you’re not really sure what you would do if you lost it. Probably turn to the primitive lifestyle.

‘I’m headed to the club, meet you at the cafe.’

‘Sure thing, 🐔💸’ You text.

She texts back a simple question mark.

‘Chicken wing’ you clarify and smack your forehead. You’re such a dweeb. You follow up quickly; I’ll be there.

You head downtown, catching a bus halfway and tossing the transfer. You could use the walk as your nerves are starting to flurry. You approach the cafe and see your friend. She wears a denim skirt and an off-the-shoulder red shirt. Her shoes are the same shade as her top. She looks towards you then the other way, not acknowledging your approach.

You near and give a short ‘psst’. She whips around and sneers in your direction before blanching and saying your name.

“Like it?” You pull down your sunglasses. “I feel like Sandy from Grease. Well, more like Rizzo.”

“Uh, sure, why are you dressed like that?”

“Oh, I didn’t want that guy to recognize me so I figure I could sneak in like this.”

“Ah,” she nods and lets out a sigh, “right. Well, try going to the other one when they card ya.”

“That works too. You’re so clever.”

“Thanks,” she says dully, “come on.”

You give a bounce and follow her down the street. She marches on, set on her path as you skip to keep up. She’s a lot more graceful in her heels. And angry. You worry about Cole, he might not be ready for what she has in store.

“Hopefully that jackass is there but those types usually don’t have anything else going on,” she snarls as if reading your mind.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You make sure you point him out when you see him. And don’t get to close, I’ll take care of him. No drinks, either. Let’s not take that chance.”

“Sounds like a plan. Well, kind of.”

“Don’t worry, I can slip this guy something. Don’t you worry. Men are stupid, he gets distracted by his next mark and I’ll strike first,” she turns the corner and you flutter along with her, joining the queue outside the club.

“You’re so brave,” you admire.

“No, I’m pissed,” she insists as she crosses her arms, slowly shifting with the line.

You peek out around the bodies. You see that man, Auggy. He’s scowling at an ID. You watch him and his eyes flick up as if he can sense you. You recoil quickly and put your chin down.

“Hey, be cool,” your friend touches your elbow, “busy tonight, you just gotta blend in.”

“Mmm, yeah,” you murmur, “I just… I don’t know what I did. I was nice–”

“He’s an old grump,” she scoffs, “who cares how he feels.”

You approach the front of the line and make sure to veer towards the other bouncer, the one with the pudgy belly. He barely looks at your card as he waves you inside. The two of you enter to the buzz of the crowd and blare of speakers. 

“Now, we hunt,” she says, “keep your phone on you. You get close to him, let me know. Oh, and take a picture if you can.”

“Right, uh…”

“I’ll get upstairs, you stay down here,” she directs, “we’ll meet back up in half an hour if we can’t find him.”

“Sure.”

“Look, I got you. Anyone gives you trouble, text me. And give em a punch like I showed you.”

You put your fist up and pat your elbow as you reenact the brief lesson she gave you earlier. She smiles and squeezes your arm.

“Good,” she praises, “now, let’s do this.”

She turns and struts off. You admire her from afar. She’s so cool. And she likes you, you think. She’s a lot nicer than Amanda or Kam. You frown and spin around, looking around at the dancing figures and the bar shining at the far end of the room.

Where to begin…

You twiddle your fingers and give a huff. You have to get in the mindset. The grindset. The findset. Find him. Hmm, you’re not great with faces…

You go to take a step forward and you're suddenly hauled back by your arm. You yipe. No one around you reacts as you’re slammed against the wall, a shadow towering over you. You look up as your sunglasses are torn away and a light is shone in your face. The bouncer lets out a gravelly growl as the small bulb of the flashlight glares in your eyes.

“I knew it was you,” he grits.

“Oh, hi, Auggy!” You chime, “how are you?”

“Don’t act like you fucking know me,” he clicks off the light and leans down until your encased in the blackness of his silhouette. “You don’t want to know me.”

[blazehedgehog]

Let's assume Metal Sonic has some degree of personal agency. Do you think he has any attachment to Robotnik as his creator? Like they potentially made amends after Heroes? Would he share Sage's sentiment about being "siblings" in a sense?

I think to some degree the canonical Metal Sonic has a very primitive idea of what a "relationship" looks like and is. I think some elements of Sonic's personality leak through as a natural product of the data Metal Sonic contains, but Metal himself doesn't always understand how or why his programming comes to those results. The data is very complex and analyzing its own processes takes resources away from the rest of his computational systems, something he doesn't often spare.

I imagine Eggman probably gave him some kind of boost to whatever he considers "loyalty", or at least tried to, so Metal has some inherent appreciation of his creator. But again, it's the kind of thing he doesn't really understand -- it comes from somewhere, but it doesn't come from him. It's a programming directive, something that adjusts the data as it executes, so if Metal Sonic feels anything at all, he can probably feel like he's being pushed and pulled internally.

The Sonic part of his personality is like "Eggman is bad and must be stopped" and Eggman's programming is trying to override that with "Eggman is your creator and you must be loyal to him." Metal Sonic himself sits somewhere in the middle of those two.

Presumably Eggman's censors win out in the end, but Eggman also strikes me as a guy who thinks "80% is good enough." That last 20% is where the hardest work is, it's where all the smallest, most pointless fringes are, and there's too much other stuff that needs to be done, after all.

So Metal Sonic still occasionally receives a valid "Sonic Thought." And he doesn't really know what to do with it, because so much of his programming has been rewired to block that. Part of his programming is definitely "error correction", so mostly it gets discarded without examination, but maybe it doesn't always. And that's how we end up with weird situations like Metal Overlord; Metal Sonic is acting on his "Eggman must be stopped" but it's getting filtered and redirected through all of this Eggman propaganda programming. So Metal Sonic stops Eggman by trying to replace Eggman.

After Sonic Heroes, I imagine Eggman "punished" Metal Sonic by increasing his filtering, censoring, and redirection programming. Like if Metal Sonic is 80% "good enough" now, I imagine before Sonic Heroes he was probably 70% or even 60%. Good enough that Metal Sonic did not immediately try to fight Eggman on activation, basically. But, obviously, Metal Sonic was just playing a longer game.

Eggman would see the whole incident as a programming bug and would simply seek to reinforce his control and suppress more of Sonic's natural tendencies. But again, never 100%. He'd probably see 100% as some impossible number. Metal Sonic is probably running on some neural network type code, something deliberately made to be unpredictable on some level, so plugging all of the personality "holes" isn't something that can be realistically done because the range of output is too vast. Plus, blocking them all starts to negate the benefits of having Metal operate on a copy of Sonic's brain in the first place. You need that wiggle room.

So in most cases I think Metal Sonic understands and acts upon an intrinsic loyalty to Eggman, which Eggman himself put there as part of Metal's programming. But it's possible (difficult, but possible) to poke and prod to get him to question that loyalty and himself.

[bugsnax-community-questions]

Bugsnax Community Questions ~ Poll #25

Put filbo, eggabell and the others in one option because there aren't enough slots to fit everyone.

FILBO: Basic Furniture, Dandelion, Cot (secret), Grumpy Baby Mayor, Pawprint rug, Cloudy paws print, painted hut, Group Photo, Streamers, Garden gnome, snaxburg flag, Golden Strabby, Certificate of completion

WAMBUS: Scarecrow, beechwood, Sauce plant seedlings, Sauce rug, Rustic Bed, Mini Cactriffy, Grow light nursery, Wood panel print, cowboy hats, ceiling fan

BEFFICA: Sleeping bag, Ladder Shelf, bestie print, Bestie (exterior), Fuzzy heart rug, Privacy curtains, Bulletin board, glowing stars, purple lupin, befficas journal, Kiddie pool (technically from floofty)

WIGGLE: Hanging lights, Luxury bed (secret), Gilded (Secret), record player, Palm tree, Platinum Award, Beach Chair + Umbrella, Armoire, Music print, Rock club sign, Psychedelic rug

TRIFFANY: Map of Snaktooth, Drafting Table, Prehistoric Floorcloth, Grumpus Skull, Giant skeleton, Barrel cacti, Dig site print, hanging pots, ancient bugsnax statue 1 (pinkle), ancient bugsnax statue 2 (incherito), Bone and Stone (exterior), Bone and stone bed

GRAMBLE: Lantern, Pink oleander, Weather Vane, Knit Sprout Mat, Hay bales, knit bed, Strabby Hat, Doily Table, knitted (exterior), knit baskets, Strabby print, Bunger bed

CROMDO: Tulips, Police tape (Secret), Bug juice dispenser, Big safe, A single hanging bulb, boombox, money print rug, worn mattress, billboard, Motivational poster, Antique print

SNORPY: Loose Newspaper, Conspiracy board, Blueprint print, Protective coat hangers, Metal plating (exterior), Metalworks flower, Satellite dish, deprivation tank, bookshelf, HAM radio, hot tub

CHANDLO: Red Cedar, Framed jersey, Rock climbing holds, Strong trophy, Hammock, Bean bag, Orange bloodroot, Home gym (secret), Sports print (secret), Gym mats, chandlolier,

FLOOFTY: red ti plant, lab bench (secret), Specimen jar, Pirate ship (exterior), Beheading machine, ecience poster, chemistry rug, test tube lights, science print, Chalkboard

SHELDA: Hanging Planter, Herbology station, Primitive grass, Salt crystal, ebony stained wood, zen garden, Meditation cushion, Prairie grass, wind chimes, desert print, torch

EGGABELL: Family Photos, Eggshell print, medical egg rug, Medicine cabinet, Emergency bell, First aid kit, Draped fabrics, igloo (exterior), snow grump, medical bed

OTHER: Cowboy hat roof (Cactriffy), Planted snak (Cactriffy), Snak print (L), Strabby Shelf (L), Snakgoyle (Snaxsquatch), Matilija Poppy (Snaxsquatch), Eyes (exterior ~ B), Legendary snak rug (B), Snak mobile (C), Sodie Fountain (C)

[strawurberries]

Hoi-hoi ✨ my lovely! Tis I! 🍰-anon! I had to join your event and give you some love!

Your awesome and well done getting though exam season (it's always awful), you've done brilliantly.

May I request 2 + 13 from the cherry section for either Vash or Knives, please?

Whichever one your comfortable writing for

Knives: "Obey"

Authors note: Cake anon! I missed you :( Thank you so much!! I'm so glad for exams to finally be over. I hope you enjoy this drabble :)

Warnings: Explicit sexual content

“Open your mouth,” he tugged on their hair, making them lean forward a little too far, back arched and knees red from kneeling on the ground for so long. They whined and shifted, trying to take the weight off their cold, bruised legs. He sneered and tugged harder, “did I say you could move?”

“No,” they huffed, “but it hurts.” Through half-lidded eyes they peered up, pupils dilated so thickly it seemed as if they had nothing but desire in their poor, primitive, little mind. So easily pleased and so easily handled—he couldn’t ask for anything better. . . well, perhaps, he would like them to listen like the good little doll they were supposed to be. But, on the other hand, all the fun was in making them listen. 

“I don’t care.” He raised their head up, neck stretching deliciously, revealing red hickeys and fading bruises in the shape of his hand. The sight almost made him grin—almost. He had tried to pace himself this time, taking his time as he explored and kneaded their body. They could wait for their pleasure until he was satisfied with his. “You can take it.”

They whined, a high pitched sound leaving their swollen lips. “Please~ I’m tired.” They wiggled again, chest rising and falling heavily. “Jus’ let me sit. . . my knees hurt.”

“Obey,” he roughly grabbed their chin, tilting their head as he inspected them, “and I’ll think about it.” For as wretched as humans are, this one, he thought, wasn’t a terrible sight to look at—especially when they were on their knees, begging and crying for release. Oh. . . that view? It made him feel so erratically twisted. A small idea started to form in his mind.

They hummed and leaned into his rough touch, any sensation better than the throbbing ache of their stiff body. “I will.”

He scoffed, “you know what to say.”

“I’ll obey, Master.”

He tugged them forward, nose pressed against the delicious tightness of his pants, “then Open. Your. Mouth.”

They pouted but complied, slowly separating their lips as they held eye contact. They stuck their tongue out, drool dripping down their chin. With both hands bound behind their back they had no way of cleaning themselves, having to submit to the humiliation. 

“Disgusting,” he muttered, his hand finding its way back to their hair. “You’re filthy, a whore.” The other hand went to quickly unbuckle his pants, mind finally deciding on a proper punishment for his toy’s little banter of disobedience. 

They nodded, chest starting to rise frantically as they rubbed their legs together to get any sense of friction. A buck of their hips and they were silenced, his cock shoved into their mouth quicker than they could process. Trained on what to do, his pleasure the first and only thing of importance, they hollowed their cheeks and tried their best not to gag. 

He gave a small smile at the sight of them trying their best to be a good little cocksleeve, but he wasn’t going to let this be that easy. “Stop.”

They paused and looked up, jaw already starting to ache. A questioning look in their eyes gave away every little desire that they harbored.

“I want to sit here for a while,” he tugged on their hair, “teach you a lesson about talking back.” A warm, pleasurable throb ached in the pit of his belly but that could wait. The one thing that was better than using his toy however he pleased, was watching as his plaything slowly devolved and begged to be used.

Their eyes widened and they tried to complain but gagged. The noise that echoed up their throat made him clench his jaw, pulling their hair once more. He gave a condescending smile, “that was another minute right there. Silent and still, or else I’ll make you kneel there all day.”

They shuffled and pressed their legs together at the idea of his threat.

“Revolting,” his other hand trailed down to their neck, pressing lightly on the point of skin where he could feel their pulse. “You liked that?”

They whined, tears starting to prick at the corner of their eyes.  “Another minute,” he mused, “you must really be enjoying this. Pathetic.”

[rage-against-the-cistem]

FUCK YOU AUTISM SHITS YOU RUINED BLUE FOR ME I DONT LIKE RED I FUCKING HATE THAT COLOR I WANNA KNOW WHAT WAS THE PRIMITIVE NEURON THAT SPAWN THIS IDEA AND TELL ITS OWNER TO DEVELOP ONE THAT CAN PICK A BETTER COLOR ALSO FUCK YOU EUGENIC BASED ORGANISATION THAT SCREECHES BY THE IDEA OF AN AUTISTIC INDIVIDUAL WIGGLING THEIR FINGERS AS THEY PLEASE THAT SOUNDS LIKE A THEM PROBLEM MAYBE THEY SHOULD HAVE BEHAVIORAL THERAPY FOR THAT JUST FUCKING SAYING

[agirlcandream84]

Check Please | Ari Levinson Smut Drabble

A first date with a feral attraction.  

Ari Levinson x Reader (written inclusively) 

Word Count: 2,199

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Minors DNI, fingering, penetration, anal, praise kink 

"If we start I won't be able to stop myself" he huffs into your ear as his hands roam your body, pausing to squeeze the swell of your breasts and grunting in pleasure. You're pressed, smashed really, between the door of your apartment and his form -- wide shoulders, thick arms, strong thighs and the meat, my god the meat, of his clothed cock.

"Then don't stop," you reply, your answer muffled by his lips on yours. It had been the most magnetic first date of your life-- seated across from him at the Italian spot down the street with his eyes searing holes through your black slip dress. You had never felt so naked in your clothes, certain he could somehow see every plane and curve that comprised you. He was hungry and he drank you up, shifting in his seat every time his eyes fell to your neckline-- your breath hitching and a rush in your panties. He watched your fork travel to your mouth at every bite, your lips wrapping around the fork and the slow drag of removing it. At one point he let out a small audible grunt when your mouth made a tight seal on a breadstick. The dinner had felt torturous- like a little show you were putting on for the other patrons. Two adults pretending to have a meal, instead of two animals in heat.

After finishing your meal and requesting the check, you reapplied your lipstick, your lips pursing into a pout as your ran the smooth nude brown over top. "You're fucking killing me doll," he growls, his eyes paused on your mouth, the pen to sign the check frozen in mid-signature in his hand. You blushed, a tiny whimper escaping your lips as you saw the tendons in his forearms flex, nearly crushing the pen. "Let's go back to my place," you said softly.

His broad hand gripped your smooth upper thigh in the car ride home, the tips of his fingers close enough to feel the heat of your core, the flesh of your thigh bulging between the grasp of his fingers. Neither of you spoke-- like conserving energy or bottling a scream.

You inserted your key into your apartment door and step inside, Ari on your heels and closing the door behind himself. No sooner did the deadbolt click than Ari was on you, his hands on either side of your face, his fingertips in the roots of your hair, as his tongue explored your mouth with vigor.

"I don't want to hurt you, we've never done this before. I can be rough," he grumbles, his nose pressed to your neck as he inhales your scent.

"Ari please," you whimper, "I want this."  He grunts at your response, his hands gripping your waist to hoist you up the length of the wall, guiding your thighs to wrap around his thick center. He uses the new position to lean more deeply into your form, the breath being squeezed from you as he yanks the straps of your dress off your shoulders and pulls down the fabric covering your breasts. They bounce free, your nipples erect as he instantly takes one in his mouth, sucking desperately as his hand squeezes the other. Your head falls back against the wall, the wetness in your cunt coating your black lace panties and leaving a wet patch on his shirt pressed into you.

He laces his hands behind your back to support your weight and pulls you away from the wall. You lean forward to grip his hulking shoulders, burying your head in the crook of his neck as he walks you both to your bedroom. Now it's your turn to inhale his scent, like musk and oak, you feel nearly drunk at how primitive your attraction feels. Like a biological urge to give his cock a home in your walls.

He bends to place you on the bed and instantly uses both hands to shimmy the slip dress down the shape of your form, wiggling it over your hips and tossing it to the corner of the room, leaving you in your black lace panties. He swipes his hand down his face and lets out a low whistle as his eyes travel the whole length of you.

"Open for me doll," he says and you obey, splaying your knees to either side while Ari admires the way your panties stick to the wetness of your folds. He reaches his hands towards you and applies pressure to your clothed core, massaging up and down the length of your lips, the soft cotton of your panties sticking to your mess. You arch your back at his touch and moan. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly pulls them off, guiding them over the delicious swell of your ass and muttering "fuck" under his breath when they stick to your core a moment longer before pulling away.

He stands to tug his shirt off over his head and unhook his belt and pants. He pulls them off to reveal his erect cock, thick and hard as steel, the largest of any man you'd allowed to fuck you. The tip of it shines with his precum and the weight of it bobs as he moves back to the bed to hover over you.

"Ari," you moan when you feel it slowly drag up the length of your leg, stopping as it brushes your entrance. "Not yet doll," he grumbles in your ear, nipping at the lobe. He sits back on his heels, his cock at attention as he reaches down to massage your soaked petals. His thumb lands on your nub as he inserts one finger in your hole, eliciting a tiny gasp at his entrance.

"Squeeze it for me honey," he directs you. He wants to feel the grip of your walls on him. You obey and grip his finger tight, the blood rushing to your nub as he rubs it gently.

He inserts another finger, two thick rods filling your tight hole. "Squeeze it again, let me feel it," he says. You do it again, feeling the fullness of him. His circling on your clit remains unaltered, your breathing picking up at his slow intention. The winding starts in your core and you scrunch your eyes closed- hungry to cum at his touch.

He inserts a third finger. "Squeeze doll. Do it again."

"Ari," you whimper, a soft cry almost, too close to bliss to concentrate.

"I said squeeze honey," his voice authoritative but gentle. You squeeze and whimper from the effort, gripping the thickness of his fingers. He begins to pump them as he circles your clit, the action lighting you up so instantly that you gasp for breath. His pace quickens, bobbing the angry head of his cock as his eyes never leave your gorgeous weeping cunt. "Look at you," he says more to himself than to you. "Cum now doll, I wanna feel your pretty hole squeeze me," he instructs you.  

You let out a scream as the orgasm rips through your body.  You feel yourself grip his fingers as your body convulses. “Fuck you’re gorgeous,” he says as he drags your body towards his and removes his fingers, the orgasm still ripping through you, as he lines up cock and drives it in deeply.  

“Fuck” you gasp at his entrance, unprepared for the girth of him. You hold your hands to his broad chest to slow his drive, desperate to make the space to accommodate him. He feels your pressure and slows his entrance, gripping his cock at the base to steady its power.  

“Sshh sssh, deep breaths doll,” he says as he guides it more deeply.  “That’s my girl,” he huffs as he seats himself ball-deep in your tight hole.  “Fuck it’s tight,” he mutters as his hips begin to roll into you.  You follow his rhythm with your breath, breathing deeply through your nose as he drives into you and exhaling through your mouth when he pulls back.  You feel him punch your spongey wall each time, understanding at last what it meant to feel pleasure with pain.  

“You’re taking my cock so well honey,” he says when he sees you breathing in tandem with his thrusts.  “Fuck you’re good for me,” he says through gritted teeth, the slide of his cock made easier by your generous wetness.  His hand finds your nub and flicks it once.  He grips your hips for three strong yanks down his shaft before finding your nub to flick it again.  He repeats this three times before keeping his hand anchored to your lower stomach and flicking your nub with every thrust.  You feel the blood gather in your clit, the flicks like a tease.  You had never cum twice during sex, convinced it was a myth, but felt the winding coil yet again.  

“Oh fuck,” you huff on a sigh, drawing closer.  

“Talk to me babydoll,” he says softly, continuing his rhythm.  

“Don’t stop Ari,” you beg him.  The stretch of your hole was unbearable, the constant thrust of his cock like the tides, and the small flick of his thumb relentless.  

“Tell me what you like,” he instructs you.

“Just like that,” you mutter through a moan.

“You can cum again honey” he says with a lazy smile, his cock feeling like a rod spearing you in two.  

“thank you,” you mumble as your second orgasm washes over you.  You instinctively clamp your knees shut and he lets you, watching the bodily manifestation of his work.

“Fuck doll, you’re so fucking hot when you cum,” he says, pulling his cock from your hole and peering low to inspect it.  His thumb swipes around your stretched hole and he admires the messy wetness of it before pumping his thick cock three times with his hand.  You feel him grip you to flip you over, pulling your ass up so that you’re on your hands and knees.  

“This one will feel tight baby, I’ll go slow,” he assures you and he does.  He guides his cock back into you, the angle from behind more searing, your hole still clenching and unclenching from the aftershocks.  Once he’s seated deeply he uses the anchor of your hips to glide your core down the length of him.  He reaches around to swipe the wetness of your petals before bringing his hand back to find your sweet puckered hole.  

“fuck Ari,” you whine, certain you can’t take another inch of him anywhere.  

“Do you trust me beautiful?” he asks you, pausing his thumb at your tiny hole. You nod your head despite the tightness, a feral desperation to be stuffed with him.  With your permission, he presses gently but firmly beyond the tension of your hole and his thumb slides an inch, then two, inside you.  The sensation is unknown bliss, your cunt feels tighter on his shaft as your your body grips desperately on him.  

“Fuucckkkk doll,” he says breathlessly, feeling your grip on his cock. “Look at you taking me so well.  I can feel how tight you are for me honey,” he grunts, working to contain his own orgasm. And that’s when you feel it, a winding so deep in your gut you hadn’t known it was accessible.  His thumb stuffs you impossibly full in your forbidden hole as his cock rails you rhythmically.  For the first time you feel fear at an impending orgasm, unsure what the intensity may bring but you’re not left much time to consider it as the orgasm grips you-- yes, grips you like a demon-- from deeply within your gut, a guttural scream emerging from your lips as you hunch over.  Ari guides his arm under you to keep you upright as he feels the force of your orgasm gripping his thickness.  He presses his thumb into your ass more deeply, pulling a raspy gasp from you at the action.  He removes his thumb and guides both your bodies from the bed so he can sit with you on his lap, still facing away from him.  

“Stay with me doll, almost there,” he says into your ear.  You barely register it, your heart pounding in your ears and an ache settling into your core.  He grips your hips again and bounces you in his lap as he ruts his hips up into you.  His movements, once smooth and intentional, have turned frantic and animalistic.  Sweat beads on his head and chest as you’re bounced like a ragdoll on his lap.  

“Ari- fill me up.  Please.  Fucking fill me up,” you beg like the slut he made you, using your remaining strength to bounce your body down his thickening cock.  This draws him to his own bliss as he grunts and grips you around the waist and tugs you tightly to his chest.  You feel his knot thicken three times as he releases three thick ribbons onto your walls.  You stay like this a few moments, both intent to catch your breath and recover.  After a minute, he slaps your ass cheek and says “Fuck woman, you’re gonna be the end of me.”

[sidhewrites]

Some fun animal facts i want to share with everyone, since I've been info-dumping to strangers all day

Some single-cell bacteria can "see"! They don't have eyes in the sense that they can see shape and form, but they use their rounded membranes like a lens to focus incoming light and allow them to react to the light levels by moving towards or away from it based on their needs.

Horseshoe crabs, jellyfish, and sharks are all older than saturn's rings! Though we aren't 100% sure how old the rings are, it's thought that they're less than 400 million years old, with many scientists thinking they're only 100-200 million years old. Meanwhile, horseshoe crabs, jellyfish, and sharks are all well over that number, with horseshoe crabs as the "youngest" species at only about 445 million years old!

The sex of many reptiles is determined by the temperature of their egg, rather than genetics. Though the individual babies are genetically identical, certain genes are "turned on or off" at certain temperatures during the embryonic development, changing the hormones and anatomical structures that develop.

Moss (isn't an animal, but i'm getting there) is a primitive/simple plant that can come in a variety of structures. Some have leaves and stems, while others are even simpler than that. These tiny forests provide the perfect biome for a massive variety of microbes, lending them the moniker the coral reef of the forest. There are even old growth moss forests, with thousands or millions of tiny animals living inside a patch of green on a rock.

Speaking of coral, it's an animal! Coral is what we call a colonial species, with one structure made up of hundreds or thousands of identical organisms known as polyps. Most coral have a symbiotic relationship with an algae that grows inside their structure, receiving nutrients and food in exchange for providing a place to live.

While coral is stuck in place, Sea Anemones can swim! Though they prefer to spend their lives sitting in one spot, this can be trouble when a predator gets too close, or the environment becomes dangerous. When this happens, the anemone will detach from its spot and wiggle away. Watch it move at the youtube video linked here.

Finally, not a lot of people know the difference between a sea lion and a seal, but it's actually very easy! A sea lion can push itself upright using its front flippers and has ear flaps, while a seal is used by official bodies such as governments or notaries to enact a legal document, or legitimize a document's authenticity.

[mcromwell]

"Trust Your Herbs" and a little snippet from What the Arts Teach by Elliot Eisner.

[kelpiemomma]

It happened in the blink of an eye.

The Alpha Alakazam glanced at Khan, who had been oddly subdued since begrudgingly giving up where their next destination was, and then Ingo heard “you might be surprised by what you need,” and suddenly he was in the middle of a blood bath.

And Ingo was no stranger to battles- he and Emmet made a living off them, after all, and he'd participated in a handful of raids against scientists who thought they knew best for the world. He had seen the aftermath of people who had been attacked by wild pokemon, and what remained of those who decided their best course of action in life was to jump into a set of train tracks. It was never any less horrifying, and Ingo occasionally had nightmares about what he'd seen, but where he was now…

It simply was a nightmare.

Fires burned in varying degrees all around him. Some consumed trees, and some consumed bodies. He tried to find something to put them out with there was nothing nearby. Not even snow. At the sound of laughter he turned his head to see a group of humans in pale tunics walking away, a few of them carrying bloodied sticks. Anger flushed through his veins and he went to chase after them but was pulled backwards instead. He tried again, and again, but their strange words vanished into the forest and faded into darkness. Ingo was left surrounded by corpses of pokemon, confused and horrified.

There was nothing he could do, and he didn't know why he was here.

The sun faded in the sky and the fires began to die, slowly turning to embers. The bodies they'd consumed were nothing but charred husks, and the primitive buildings he'd first thought to simply be fallen trees collapsed on themselves with no support left. It has taken Ingo longer than he cared to admit that this hadn't just been a group of pokemon- it had been their home, where they'd had their own rooms. There were enough bodies here to be an entire family, the kind biologists loved to see where he came from. They were so few and far between, requiring a curious amount of intelligence, teamwork, and tolerance. He knew people, personally, who would have loved to observe this family.

And here he was, observing their bodies instead.

A terrified yelp grabbed his attention; another den had just collapsed. Apparently this inhabitant had been alive. Ingo dashed over and tried to remove branches- his hands went right through, but he didn't stop trying. After releasing his own anguished scream - why was he here when he was so useless?! - the branches moved. An ashen, burnt paw emerged first. The sticks wiggled again, collapsing around the body further, until the remaining pokemon finally managed to pull itself free. And it was only then, staring at the young Zorua, that Ingo finally realized what he must have walked into.

He turned to look, to take in what he had taken for granted before.

The bodies weren't just pokemon. They were Zoroarks, Zoruas. Pokemon that had, from his understanding, been long loathed in Hisui. Seen as ill omens, as dangers to their societies. This clan must have settled somewhere, thinking it a safe area to raise their family, only for it to be discovered by humans. Humans who were fearful of what they saw as dangerous. Attack before you are attacked. Ingo could, to an extent, understand why- pokemon in Hisui were so much more aggressive, defensive, than those he had grown up with and known. Some people had pokemon partners but they were not like what he was used to. And with this clan settling in, with new generations being reared, he could only imagine the thought process the humans who had found it must have had.

Get them, before they get us.

He turned back to the Zorua, who had emerged from the collapsed den and now stood silently.

Staring.

Ingo wanted to know what his expression was, but just as he began to lean over to look the pokemon began moving. He approached the closest corpse first- this one hadn't been burned, at least, but there was a puddle of blood haloing it. The Zorua didn't seem to notice his paws getting wet as he drew closer, lifting a paw to nudge the body. The corpse. As Ingo expected, there was no response. The Zorua tried again, finally turning away when the corpse remained still.

Ingo followed as it staggered around the ashes of the clearing, prodding at every body it found regardless of their state. Some were so very obviously dead… but the Zorua still tried.

Trauma, Ingo knew, did funny things to a mind. To one as young as this…

It was no wonder why Khan was the way he was.

The young pokemon finally stopped, his breaths coming faster and faster. Ingo knelt down when his back legs collapsed, arms reaching out as if he could help. As before, he simply phased through. The Zorua turned his head, finally revealing the scar that Ingo would come to know well, now a fresh wound that still bled. His paws were cut up and burnt, there were scratches and lesions all along his back. He was a mess. Ingo could hear frantic, near-silent whines coming from the Zorua. It was hard to say if the volume was from fear that he would be heard, or if the smoke had gotten to his lungs.

Tears began slipping from the Zorua 's eyes. His panting became one long, hiccuping whine. His head remained turned, staring behind him, and Ingo was struck by what he'd yelled at Khan in anger so long ago, and yet so recently.

“You have no idea what it's like to have a family you can't return to!”

Khan, of all of their companions, absolutely did. This… this was why his reaction had been so strong, why Nana and Mnesomyne both had stepped in to stop Khan from assaulting - perhaps even killing - Ingo.

This is why she sent me here.

Ingo looked down at the Zorua again. Khan seemed to be frozen in place, but the wind around them was moving leaves and leftover smoke. It was only Khan who was frozen, unable to look away from his slaughtered family.

“I'm sorry,” Ingo said quietly, placing his hands around Khan's body as if he could actually hold him, “I'm so sorry.”

[unboundtravels]

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Many could call what she was doing risky. Of course, it was. It was breaking and entering in broad daylight. Wide strides were made up the driveway of a small garage. The woman standing before the garage could see from the lack of interior light shining through the window that the garage must currently be without its prime occupant. So she knew she'd have to be quick, humming quietly as she approached the doorway leading inside. She didn't even have to shake the knob. She just knew that it was locked.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎"I must be quick." She mumbled quietly, "Quick. Quick. Quick." She repeated to herself before humming quietly. She removed something from the outer breast pocket on her waistcoat. This woman wasn't abnormally tall or short, her height was rather average. Pale fingers wiggled quietly as she held a small, silver cylindrical device in between her fingers. Something she'd stolen during a different escapade. Her wild, unkempt white hair was her most distinguishing feature, aside from her all-black outfit and icy blue eyes, of course.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎A black, denim waistcoat was tightly buttoned over a tan turtleneck, with a large coat that dropped to the thighs hanging on her shoulders. The boots she wore were cut a few inches below the knee, heeled with laces and locks. The device whirrs softly in her hands before it unlocks the door in front of her. "Primitive devices, these sonic screwdrivers." She huffed, "But not without their uses!" She tacked on a giggle before pushing the door open and closing it behind her. Immediately, she noticed a plethora of details.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎A workshop? Earlier, from her ship, she had detected strange readings. Said ship was in dire need of repairs, and her first move in order to repair it was to scout out nearby energy readings. She sent her other three companions to three different energy levels... while she herself headed here... where energy readings were the highest. However... all she could see was just some workshop with assorted gear scattered around. Some of that gear included a jet engine, piles of circuit boards, enough automobile parts to build at least two cars, a short-wave radio, a Seeburg jukebox, a workbench with welding equipment, the remnants of a robot, a working refrigerator, and dozens of clocks. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ "There's no other explanation..." She mumbled, finger resting against lip, "This must be the home... of a scientist... hm? Yes.. Yes, I believe so indeed... quite so." She paced over to a nearby workbench, "This workshop will be suitable to repair the fluid link to The TARDIS... but I have to be quick... must slip in and out without so much as a hair left behind!"

@doctorbrown

[autophage]

The Blériot XI was such a beautiful design. Primitive by today's standards, sure, but look at this thing! What grace and elegance! Also while it's no longer considered a good idea, it doesn't have normal control surfaces on the wings - instead the controls warp the entire shape of the wing, instead of just wiggling flaps.

And there are still examples that fly today! They are over a hundred years old!

[engelfeather]

Fangs and Fur: chapter 1

Xavier's breathing was slow as he opened his eyes. The past few hours were nothing but a blur. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he looked around. Nothing but strands of strange white...something... Surrounded him. He carefully reached out to grab a hold of one of the strands. It felt like fur, a lot of it. Where was h—Suddenly all the memories came flooding back to him. He was in the beasts fur.

The beast that had tortured and killed every single person in the city he lived in. In the city he grew up in. The city he had built so many memories in.

No...

No no no. This couldn't be reality. It had to be a dream.. a ..a nightmare!

Hastily he tried untangling his body from the giants fur. His movements were frantic, uncoordinated, doing nothing more but making him more stuck like a fly in a spider's web. His heart began pounding again, the adrenaline filling every inch of his body. He wanted nothing more but to get away, to run, to flee like he was nothing more than prey. . . That's what he was to It after all. Glancing around to his arms and legs, he realised that squirming around wouldn't do anything, but make his situation worse. Taking deep breaths he slowed his breathing, trying to stay calm. He wasn't some animal that only knew to fight back or to run. Closing his eyes he focused on relaxing his body. As he did so, he carefully began to try and remove the strands of fur that twisted around his body, like a snake ready to devour its meal. With some effort and patience, the fur let go of him, allowing him to slowly make his way out of the walls of fur surrounding him.

His heart began to pound again as it seemed that the waves of fur would never end. Was he trapped here forever? Like a curse that prevented any of its victims to leave? He had to get out of here quickly, if he didn't the creature could find him squirming around in his fur...and god knows what it would do to him. The memories of watching his fellow people be slaughtered by its claws, devoured like a child gone crazy for candy or stepped on was haunting. Tears began to form and he had to hold the urge to cry out and scream at how cruel the fate of those people were. He didn't even realise he almost reached the "exit" as the fur began to part more, making it easier to crawl through. Dim light was visible now, marking the end of this maze of fur.

With a few more careful, yet quick motions, he wiggled his way out of the fluff, taking deep breaths. Slowly he got up on shaking legs. He took in the cooler air that brushed against his face, expecting fresh air, he closing his eyes to enjoy the moment just for a second, as a musky smell wormed its way into his nose. Was that..alcohol? Opening his eyes back open, he looked around to study his surroundings better. After his eyes adjusted to his new surroundings they widened in surprise. He wasn't expecting the view he was met with. Dumbfounded, he gazed around.

He had expected a forest..or a cave, something primitive where a beast like this one would've awakened and came from. But that wasn't the cause at all, no, instead he was met with wooden floorboards, painted blue walls, with paint already cracking up, revealing yet to be patched holes, and a ceiling with a lamp hanging from it. Next to him on his right was a gigantic, unmade, bed. With a nightstand beside it. Looking through the window of where the bed was, he could see the sky, which showcased the coloured of the setting sun, Even if from that angle he couldn't see it. Looking back at the nightstand, he noticed that a bottle of brightly coloured pills were on them, though that wasn't in interest to him. Rather his attention was pointed towards the terrible smell that lingered. The gross smell came from several bottles of all sorts of alcohol laying around, the floor looked like it hadn't been cleaned in days..months even! Disgusting. Not just that, but the buds of used cigarettes were on the ground. They were practically screaming to be cleaned up. This was a ...house..or, better, an apartment by how "small" it looked. Well, small for a giant perhaps. Though that left questions for him.

An...apartment? This creature lived in an apartment, where...Where on earth was he?

Xavier couldn't understand where this place would be on earth. The authorities would've found out about a gigantic apartment, house or anything that resembled a living space like this one by now. He couldn't ponder for long though as he heard a sigh from behind him. Snapping back to reality he felt Hot, humid air blowing against his body, causing him to shiver. His heart made a jump as his head spun around, just to be almost face to face with the gargantuan visage of the giant. For a second he thought he was caught, causing him to back away, trembling, stumbling over his own legs and falling on his bum. Fear rose up again as he continued to scoot away, shutting his eyes.

No no no, he couldn't have come so far just to be caught so easily.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, dropping to the floor like his blood would soon follow. Awaiting the death by its claws that would tear his body to shreds, he felt. . . nothing. Instead his body remained in tact. There was nothing, but the cool air that was still surrounding him. With caution he opened his shaking eyes, he was surprised with realisation following soon after. The giant was asleep. Relief washed over him, he was glad he hadn't been caught, that would've ended it all.

Observing the huge creature further, he saw how it laid on the floor, eyes closed shut, with its maw reeking of blood and death. He could even see its fangs glistering with the crimson fluid covering them. Shivering at the thought, he gulped, that could have been him. Looking back up at it, he noticed he was slightly bigger now. Whereas before he had been but a mere speck to it, which allowed him to hide better, now he could probably reach the lower lips of the giant. He grimaced as he looked into its maw.. Now getting a better look at its impressive form, due to his size, he could make out all of the details. From its huge curved ebony horns, down to its long tail with a fluffy, yet slick, end. Its hair had covered part of its face, as if to prevent him from seeing the whole showcase of this monster before him. Though he didn't mind, no, he was glad.. It had hooves for feet, still covered in the dry blood of its victims. It even wore clothing, though they were torn, shredded from all the knocking down buildings, with dust and gore all over them.

Despite all of those horrid features, it looked oddly adorable, as if it were at peace.. As if it could have never even hurt all of those... innocent lives. Those.. innocent . . . lives. He couldn't help but laugh, a laugh so hysterical, one could think he lost his mind. However, this wasn't a laugh of happiness, rather a laugh of pure agony. Frustration. Hate. Fear.. all of those and more emotions combined. His hollow laugh broke the unnerving silence, but was it really better? Tears streamed down his face, as he continued. His hands balled into a fist, pounding against the floor until they were wound, glowing red. But he didn't care, as his crazed laugh turned into a scream. He screamed at the giant that had taken everything.

Everything.

Getting up on his legs he approached the humongous beast. His face and eyes red with nothing but anger in them. Rage was the only thing he felt for this.. thing. His voice shaky yet prominent as it echoed through the room

”How..dare.. How DARE you! How dare you come and do whatever you want! We aren't playthings, we are people! People with...dreams, ambitions, all of the things you dastardly creature will NEVER have! Do you stupid beast get that!? You..monster...you don't even deserve to be called a monster, that wouldn't give it justice! Oh I could..i- I could just rip out your stupid fur or your stupid...stupid..— “

His mouth shut the moment he felt another wave of heat wash over him. As if it showed just what power it held over him... How useless, pathetic, a literal nobody, he was to it. The anger vanished with the heat of the giants breath. Fear was the only thing it left behind. He felt small again. Smaller than ever before, literally and mentally. Realising just how close he was to it now, the only thing coming out of his mouth was a squeak. With shaking limbs he stumbled back again, luckily catching himself, as he turned around and ran away from what he deemed the embodiment of cruelty itself.

Not knowing where his legs were leading him, he could only dodge the huge bottles of beer, whiskey and whatnot, that laid around. Just by the smell of it, he could tell it was cheap. Frowning at the sight, he carefully circled around the pools of alcohol that dripped from the empty glass's. The gross smell that came with it including just how overall messy it looked, made him hate his new situation even more. Looking back at the sleeping "beauty" , he sneered. Fumbling over his legs as he did so, he landed in a puddle of alcohol. Drenching his already dirty clothing in the old, disgusting liquid. He cried in disbelief and horror, wanting nothing more but to marinate in his own pitiful situation. But he couldn't. He had to survive..he had to live! Even if it's just to prove he is deserving of it.

Taking a much needed breath, he got up again. Fringing his shirt, he continued his speed running. This time with a goal, one of the cracks. He was sure one of them could allow him to rest whilst also being hidden from the monster behind him. That..monster..urgh. He didn't wish to even think about it. Not now. Not when he had to secure his safety first.. his survival was more important than a few tears.

It felt like he had walked several hours until he Reached the wall. Looking at it from the left and then right side, he noticed a larger crack in the wall to his left. He couldn't help but sigh. Glad he was, yet also annoyed at the fact he had to continue walking. With that, he continued his march to safety. Nearing the larger holes he had previously spotted. As he arrived, he stood proudly in front of it, this could be his new sanctuary for a while. With another sigh escaping his lips, he glanced inside  to ensure it was big enough for him to settle down in.

He slipped through the crack and walked around, checking how durable and stable the walls were. They felt dense enough, surely the beast couldn't easily break through these walls. The "room" seemed warm enough as well, not as cramped as he had assumed. He walked backwards to take in the size fully. In doing so, bumping his head against something metal. He groaned in pain, holding the back of his head, as suddenly a splash of water hit his head. Due to its size, it drenched him completely, he shivered in displeasure, though was glad it wasn't any more alcohol. Glancing up he saw that right above his head was, what seemed like, a metal bar, with a few cracks in it. Taking a few steps back, he pounded one of his hands against it, the force vibrating slightly through the rod. A drop of water formed, because of that, as it dropped down to the floor. Perfect! If he found something to catch the water in, he could use it to shower.

He was glad to have found a place he could call his own for a while. Sitting down and leaning against the wall that faced the exit. It felt...strange, surreal to be sitting in a hole, in a house of a gargantuan monster that just destroyed the normality and comfort of his old life. Sure, he often complained about working at the cash register... He always wanted a higher paying job, he tried hard to work for it, to get the money for a proper education. Though the bills kept piling up and it didn't seem like his boss was even considering raising his paycheck or getting him into a higher position. And sure, it could be stressful if the wrong people came to the store, nagging about stupid things, but at least there he still felt...free? He wasn't trapped in someone else's house, that was for sure. He could still go on walks, relax and do what he wanted after a busy day. Even if that was usually reading a book or sleeping.

He looked down at his knees, wrapping his arms around them. As he hugged them, the survivors guilt began trickling in. He truly was a no one, he didn't...deserve to survive. Someone with actual importance, someone like...a doctor, should have survived. Not him. A pitiful cashier who barely afforded to live. His old apartment wasn't all too different from this sad excuse of a living place. Why did he survive out of all people..? Should he have just...given up? Maybe.. maybe he should have.With those dark thoughts lingering in his head he rested it on his arms. Laying down, all curled up, he looked like a pitiful roly poly. Despite the warmth, his body shivered, he felt cold... despair. With small sobs he closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep once more.

( Prologue: )

[theluckywizard]

Welcome to DADWC!!! How about “it’s not my fault you’re so comfortable to lay on!” for Cullen/Rose ♡

Thank you, my dear! I had a lot of fun with this one. Some might say too much fun. But it's the spirit of the exercise right? Not well edited probably, but I'm just pushing it out into the world. @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1337

CW: Mildly NSFW, non-explicitly described sex

The Protestations of the Commander’s Bed

“You go on, I’ll be up in a moment,” Cullen says, his finger brushing my wrist as I drift in the direction of the ladder. He presses his lips into a regretful smile, gesturing at the teetering stack of requisitions that needed attending to, or at least signing, and releases my hand. I climb the ladder lingeringly, watching him between each rung, hunched over his desk braced on his left hand, scribbling his signature with the skrik of a quill after assessing each document. He glances up at me from under his brow, his most provocative look, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and his signatures grow more slapdash. By the speed of the quill it could be little more than a pair of Cs and an R followed by streaking lines.

“Go. I’m going to start writing your name soon if you keep those looks up,” he says. I shake my head and scramble up through the bulkhead. His room is still dark and I feel around for a tinder box to light his one massive candle whose wax tailings are slowly overtaking his nightstand. With my hands on my hips, I stare at his bed, his cursed bloody bed. 

“We meet again,” I say softly, snorting to myself. Cullen must have dragged in the actual first bed he stumbled across in this tumbledown keep. It’s a primitive thing to begin with and time has not been kind. The joinery is loosened and the wood squawks like a nug in heat when the bed is jostled. The mattress sits upon a grid of fraying ropes that complain mightily when one sits upon them, least of all two individuals who may or may not be able to keep their hands off each other. And as if the rest weren’t bad enough, the mattress is little more than a bag of compacted sheep’s wool that smells a little like a paddock after a rainstorm. There’s a reason this is only my second stay. 

I sit on the bed. It complains.

“Oh shut up,” I say, flopping back. The ropes creak and whine. “Some of us need some rest.”

“Maker, are you talking to the bed?” he calls from below. 

“I think it’s haunted,” I reply, bouncing on it to prove it. I hear Cullen blow out the candles below and begin his ascent. I wiggle against it again for effect. “I’m sure we could find you something better,” I say when his head pokes through the opening.

“Terrible use of resources,” he replies.

“Says the man who can’t sleep more than four hours in a stretch!” I point out. He smiles wide enough that his dimples appear and I hop up from the monstrosity to assist him in undressing. 

He always humors me. My fingers are neither practiced with the buckles and straps on all his plate armor nor can I ever keep the order of operations straight. But he enjoys it, suppressing his smile as I stick out my tongue in concentration for a particularly tiny fastening in a tight spot.

“One day you’ll break five minutes,” he pokes, his hands sliding up and down my sides affectionately.

“One day you’ll find something to wear to work that isn’t a murderous undertaking to remove,” I answer. “You do realize that this makes it almost impossible to steal a quick moment together in the middle of the day.” He blushes brightly enough that I can see it in the candlelight.

“I– in the middle of the day!?” he says. “Maker’s breath, Rose.”

“Nevermind, nevermind. Let’s fuck each other in the sanctity of darkness forever!”

“Andraste–” he bites his tongue, shaking his head at me. “You’ve got the mouth of a common ruffian.” I tip my head up and rise to my toes to kiss him on the nose.

“How could I not, when your blushes inspire me so?” I grin. I lift his breast plate off triumphantly and push his arming doublet off his shoulders, rather pleased with myself. He collects me into his arms and starts working on my jack, which given the relative simplicity and his general familiarity with an inordinate number of fastenings takes approximately five seconds to remove. He celebrates with a fervent, long awaited kiss. We shuffle backward toward that Maker-forsaken bed and kick off our boots on the way, wiggling out of our breeches and smalls and then tug our shirts over our heads. At the very least I’ve convinced him that it’s acceptable to leave them on the floor until morning, but his eyes linger after them wistfully.

“Are they calling to you for folding?” I ask with a mischievous look, sitting gently on the edge of the mattress. The bed whimpers. I cast it a scolding look. Cullen maneuvers around me to crawl into the center of the bed amid the exclamations of the straining ropes where he flops with his arms outstretched across the pillows in an invitation. I follow and loom over him momentarily, a cheeky idea taking shape. His mattress is sad enough that perhaps the man himself might serve as an adequate substitute. I settle my hips against his first, provoking the expected gasp and then settle my cheek against his shoulder, flat on top of him. 

“What are–” he stammers, perplexed. “I– I thought we might…”

“We’ll be lambasted by your bed!”

“I don’t mind,” he says. I lift myself up on an elbow and squash my nose against his before planting a lingering kiss on him. 

“Clearly,” I retort. “But you also happen to be perfectly comfortable to lie on. A sight better than this mattress.”

“This is why you’ve had me come to yours all these weeks, isn’t it?” he asks, the realization emerging just now. I laugh against his mouth.

“I thought it should be obvious. My bed is objectively better in every dimension,” I answer. “And yours is plainly haunted.” I grind down against him a few times to illustrate. The bed obliges. Cullen laughs through broken breath.

“By some crotchety chantry sister, no doubt.”

“See? I knew you’d come around to my line of thinking! Her name is Colleen by the way.”

“Colleen?”

“The chantry sister haunting the bed.”

“I’ll see about fixing it,” he grumbles with a grin. I kiss both of his cheeks and we waste no further time on banter, instead pursuing our long awaited activities to the protestations of Colleen, which prompts a fair bit of cursing and even more laughing. When our enthusiastic exertions near their peak, too involved with each other to care that the entire bed is bucking and wobbling perilously, there’s a precipitous groan and it’s neither of ours. The bed strains briefly and then collapses, dropping us both to the  floor in a jarring huff. Cullen coughs, the wind knocked out of him and I roll off of him onto my back, a choke of a laugh snagging in the back of my throat. He glances over at me, apology written on top of his amused expression.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“I didn’t expect to have my point illustrated with such exacting precision,” I remark, “Are you?” I shimmy close to lean down for a kiss but his eyes widen and he reaches up with a hand to catch the headboard which lurches forward in an attempt to crush us. “Colleen is most displeased.” He sits up to lean the headboard against the wall, chuckling throughout. 

“I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t bother. I’m having Josephine arrange for a new one to be brought in tomorrow.”

“It would make more sense if I were the one to talk to her,” he says.

“Are you sure you want to face her indelicate looks and impertinent questions?” I ask. He grumbles a sigh.

“You may have a point,” he answers. I sling my leg over his hips, preparing to renew our activities on the defeated bed.

“I love you, Cullen, but you take spartan to unprecedented heights.” 

Cullen exhales a laugh that quakes in his chest.

“I love you, too.”

[yoonalgc]

❀ ◡ STICKS & STONES / @lgchanbyul

Strange — the next scavenger hunt activity prompts them to make some sort of primitive craft out of materials and Yoona cannot find it in herself to think of something remotely creative. The depths of her ability to improvise have been used up by now. ( Perhaps it was the over the top attempt at making a horrifying abomination with pineapple, jalapeno and crumbled up rice balls that put her at her limit. Or her exaggeration when requesting a signature from Lee Kyuhwan. )

She glances over at her designated partner, Hanbyul. She is an older student, nearer to graduation at this point than Yoona is to her next existential crisis. Her eyes travel back to the pile of sticks and leaves after making a b-line ( without much of a word ) for one of the larger trees in the campus courtyard. She only turns her head when she falls into a squat, long dark skirt catching on some of the twigs.

Her hands rifle through the pile, haphazardly searching for pretty enough leaves and sticks that are not bent and twisted and setting them aside. Eventually, her plucking at the pile reveals a long wiggling thing hanging limply on the end of a rather long stick. It is bright green, white and purple dashes on the side and a long black horn on the end.

"Unnie. Come look."