#strap game horrific

[poptarts-and-oranges]

reading my posts from three months ago like girl….

[foldingfittedsheets]

I always forget this wasn’t a thing everywhere but my high school had a fun and innovative way to torment us in PE. They got heart rate monitors. It was this awful strap that went under the bra line and paired to a watch. The first day was great cause we got to set our resting heart rate. We did this by laying in a dark room and napping.

But then once a week we’d have to strap on these monitors and go running. The monitors were old tech and didn’t always pick up your heartbeat, so you’d have to use cold water between it and your skin to get a better connection, gods know why. Warm water never worked. After the day our watches would be collected and our efforts recorded.

The idea was that if your heart beat too fast you were supposed to stop, and if it was too slow you’d speed up. In practice this was ridiculous, staying in the green zone all class was ridiculously difficult.

Even people like me who were stubbornly resistant to running the mile couldn’t stand the horrific constant beeping and made attempts to placate the reviled machine. It was always fairly miserable. I had PE first thing in the chilly morning, dashing cold water on my skin before running around half awake was the low point of my week.

But for some unknown reason, the teacher insisted that no play could happen on these days. We were given the freedom to run all over campus but woe betide us if we tried to make a game that actually made this enjoyable.

We’d initiate games of tag only to get yelled at for not just… running. Any kind of play was forbidden. On one memorable occasion someone got a kickball and we started an impromptu soccer game with it.

If someone’s heart rate got too high they’d drop to their knees to wait out the shrieking of their watch so an extra element was added to the game of trying to win without going too hard. I remember being absolutely delighted, the thrill of that game still lives in my heart, hoping I could score a goal before my heartbeat betrayed me to the hated watch.

When the PE teacher found us we were soundly scolded and the ball was confiscated. Our happiness burst like a soap bubble and we turned our back to the enchantment of the green field and resumed slogging along in a grey haze as expected.

[lizbethborden]

I periodically think about how Hannah Waddingham had a graphic rape scene in Game of Thrones replaced at the last minute with a waterboarding scene. This was a "better alternative" because the show, at the time, had come under criticism for excessive sexual violence. They did not let her know prior to shooting, only told her to wear a wetsuit to set. Then they proceeded to actually waterboard her for hours on camera, to the point that she developed claustrophobia from the experience.

“‘Thrones’ gave me something I wasn’t expecting from it, which was chronic claustrophobia,” Waddingham said. “It was horrific. Ten hours of being actually waterboarded. Like actually. I’m strapped to a table with all these leather straps. I couldn’t lift up my head because I said that would be too obvious that it’s loose.”

Lena Headey also remarked in retrospect that filming the scene, where she was actively torturing Hannah Waddingham for hours, made her deeply uncomfortable and upset. Famously, Kubrick and other auteur directors operated this way, creating actual pain, distress, and suffering to achieve a gratifying effect.

Ultimately, this is entertainment generated by operating under pornographic principles. The pleasure is generated from actually, literally torturing a woman onscreen in the same way that pornographic pleasure is generated from actually, literally penetrating (and often torturing) a woman onscreen. I wonder how much of what we see in media is created this way, and we won't find out until years later.

[howmanyholesinswisscheese]

Sherlock & Co Headcanons

This list got SO LONG, SO QUICKLY, but here y'all are. Nobody asked, but I sure as hell will deliver.

Sherlock comes into John's room at night sometimes when he can't sleep. John lets him snuggle up in bed and wraps his arms around him like a koala, and - as long as John's breathing is acceptable - Sherlock falls swiftly asleep to the rise and fall of his chest. After a few times, Sherlock observes a notable decrease in John's nightmares and starts joining him in bed more often, even when he's not tired.

Mariana is one of those rare people who Microsoft Excel gets along with. She has magic powers for sure.

YOU GET A QPR, YOU GET A QPR, EVERYBODY GETS A QPR

On the topic of google docs in the latest episode, Sherlock's gmail is a random string of numbers like a default wifi password because "sholmes@gmail.com" was taken and that was obviously the next possible option. Mariana's job is infinitely harder because of this.

They have movie nights.

John tried once to get the others into football. Neither of them saw the appeal of it but they watched a game with him anyway out of some strange obligation and a hefty amount of coercion. Also there was popcorn. The joy John radiated when Swindon Town scored a goal was absolutely worth it all.

Carol Watson ships it.

CANE USER JOHN CANE USER JOHN CANE USER JOHN

John hates using his cane, like genuinely loathes it. He's convinced he'll get looks for it or seem like he's faking. And what would Mariana and Sherlock think about him as a colleague?? One morning, though, after a particularly physically taxing case, he woke to an awful flare up. When he reluctantly swiped the cane from the corner where it had been gathering dust so far and made his way into the kitchen for breakfast, Mariana and Sherlock didn't even bat an eye - Mariana did ask if he'd like to sit down while she made him toast, which he gratefully accepted. Archie did try to gnaw on it, though. He uses the cane a bit more often, now.

John and Mariana learned BSL for Sherlock's bad days. They have intricate and heated discussions from across the room entirely in sign language when others are around and nobody can understand them. It's hilarious to watch - well, hilarious from their perspective, at least.

They fall asleep on the couch an inordinate number of times.

One time, Sherlock made John and Mariana breakfast. The two of them spent a very long time trying to figure out whether he was high, delusional, or both.

Clients are generally confused by the whole trio's relationship dynamic. Slay. That's exactly what they're going for.

Honestly I'm 100% vibing with the poly hcs going around. Consider: poly qpr???

Short king John. You agree. Reblog.

Mariana consistently steps out of the flat looking drop down gorgeous because she's awesome like that, whereas Sherlock looks like he's just been dragged out of bed (he probably has been) and John exclaims in pleasant amusement whenever he finds bits of his breakfast in his stubble. They make the perfect trio.

Sherlock is tall enough to rest his chin on top of John's head. He does it like some sort of clingy cat whenever he's tired and John's back is turned. It's adorable. He's recently been experimenting with slinking his arms around John's waist as he does so, yielding gentle chuckles that he feels rather than hears. The results have been a smashing success.

Mariana was school captain.

John drinks juice straight from the carton like a heathen (which is fine because Sherlock hates the stuff - the pulp gets stuck in his teeth - and Mariana has her own food downstairs).

Sherlock really does play the violin at horrific hours. The neighbors hate him, but it actually puts John to sleep when he's not playing the violent, jerky melodies of a tricky case.

Sherlock and Victor Trevor. I'm surprised this isn't already canon. They happened. Whatever "happened" means is irrelevant - they happened.

Sherlock really likes rainbow sour straps.

MORE TO COME PROBABLY

[vroombeams]

I wish you would write a fic that’s landoscar rule 63?! Either one of them or both ?!

i would should and shall! here. have. whatever this is! for the i wish you would write ask game warning for some mild body image issues/self-deprecating mental talk if that sort of thing bothers you! also NSFW. lots of focus on... boob

Oscar wanders out of the bathroom and she's toweling off her hair, still wet enough to drip and soak into her t-shirt.

If Lando's honest, Oscar's hair actually looks better like this. Wet and plastered to her skull, falling in hopeless waves around her chin instead of dried into the terrible mid-season pseudo-mullet she keeps growing and not cutting until it's unreasonable. It's awful in a charming way. Not awful in the way Lando's carefully upkept undercut is when she doesn't style it.

"Come here," she says, because if she doesn't get to touch Oscar, like, yesterday, she's going to pitch a fit.

Oscar gives her a look. The towel ends up slung over her shoulder and Lando’s hard-pressed not to follow the hang of it down to her chest, the drape of her tee over her tits. God, Lando loves her tits. 

“Can I put a bra on, first,” Oscar says, because she’s a psychopath who needs to be strapped in even when she’s essentially alone. 

She’s close enough to touch. Lando grabs her, pulls her closer by the wrist. “No.”

Oscar rolls her eyes but gets up on the bed when Lando drags her in. “You’re in—”

Lando gets a knee around Oscar’s hip and rolls her onto her back, pins her to the mattress where she really wants her, and then sits back in her lap. Oscar looks entirely unfazed. As usual. But her damp-dark hair spreads over the duvet in a pretty, tributary-delicate way, and her boobs are jiggling a bit from the way Lando’s squirming about to get comfortable on her, so. The view’s pretty good, apart from Oscar’s extremely unimpressed face.

It gets like this, sometimes. Lando has to look at her and touch her and just feel her, and it’s a bit masochistic, and she knows that. The way she compares them in her head isn’t good. Like, when she drags her thumbs into the waistband of Oscar’s extremely sensible underwear, all she can think about is how her hips are shaped so nice, flared so wide. When she pushes Oscar’s shirt up just under her tits, grabs her waist, all she can think about is the way it dips in so nicely. Lando’s built like a boy. Slim hips, shallow curves. Oscar’s built like a woman.

Lando hikes the shirt up higher, under Oscar’s armpits. Oscar is supremely unhelpful about it but she shudders when Lando cups her tits in both hands.

If it weren’t a huge disadvantage in the car Lando would get a boob job immediately, honestly. Oscar’s—Oscar’s tits are so fucking perfect, heavy and soft and so, so distracting. Lando thinks horrific thoughts about her all the time. Like how the way she’s shaped is a direct attack on Lando. It’s peak do I want her or do I want to be her behaviour. The answer is both, obviously.

Lando bends and bites the soft inside of Oscar’s tit. Not hard. Just enough to sink her teeth in before she gives it a suck. 

“Well then,” Oscar says drily. “Yes, Lando, sure, why don’t you just have at it. No need to ask or anything.”

Lando bites again, harder this time. Warningly, or whatever, because she’s not in the mood for Oscar’s nonsense. 

Oscar clicks her tongue disapprovingly but Lando can feel her tensing, hips twitching up when Lando’s mouth wanders over and finds a nipple to suck instead. She could live and die here, honestly, with Oscar’s tits in her mouth and hand. Squeezing and sucking and whatever else, like—this is a great place, actually, and Lando would gladly retire here. Or at least buy property for vacationing.

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Imagine Riri finding out you're a vampire

Riri always swore she'd never be that girl. She was way too bad and confident to be driving herself crazy wondering. If another chick who technically wasn't even really hers was seeing other people behind her back. Even if the unspoken relationship between the two of you were the real deal. Yeah neither of you brought up having that crucial conversation to properly define the relationship. But she knew the second when her lips met yours under a starry night sky. Just a few months ago after you had managed to chase and pin her down under your own body for some stupid comment she made. She knew when the fireworks went off in her head, and her entire body came to life with emotions rampaging everywhere. Till the point where for the first time in her life her brain shutdown on her, and she couldn't form even the simplest of ideas.

She knew right then her days of entertaining other girls were over. No more would her eyes linger too long whenever another pretty girl caught her eyes. No more would her eyes even be wondering in search of those pretty girls hoping to catch her eye. You were it for her now. And naturally she assumed you'd felt the same way considering your reputation on campus had been just as bad as hers. If not worse because while Riri was known to be a huge flirt. You were infamous for being a heartbreaker, but after that kiss Riri hoped she'd be the exception.

At the same time though it didn't matter how you felt about her or not. She didn't care if she misread just how deep your connection with her ran. If you were still entertaining other girls then it wouldn't faze her not even a little bit. Nope Riri Williams was not and will never be that girl.

Her reasons for hovering outside of Violet Elise's dorm room for the past five minutes had. Nothing to do with the rumors circulating around campus about you coming here everyday at four p.m for. a secret rendezvous. Riri shared a history class with the girl and just needed to borrow her notes from Tuesday's lesson. She missed the class doing Ironheart stuff. If you were in there right now then it wouldn't make a difference to her. She definitely wasn't going to storm out in tears.

"Come on Riri mama didn't raise no punk." Riri muttered to herself staring at the door just two steps away from her. She took those two steps with confidence raising her hand to knock.

"Uhhhhhhh y/n"

Her hand froze in midair just an inch away from the door. Riri stopped the second she heard the moan, and then the undeniable sound of Violet saying your name. Her heart clenched in her chest with her grip on her backpack strap tightening. Riri took in deep breaths exhaling slow in an effort to calm herself down. Instead of hurt she felt nothing but pure betrayal that fueled her anger.

You literally told her two nights ago that she was the only one. While whispering other sweet nothings in her ear making her shiver in your arms. Causing her to feel things she never felt for another person, but heartbreakers were good at that. Saying all the right things to make a person fall for them all while to them it was just a game. She was nothing but a plaything to you while you had been her whole world.

Riri didn't think about her next move, or hesitate she just grabbed the doorknob twisting it to see. If the two of you had even bothered to lock the door, or were you too caught up in each other's embrace. The doorknob went all the way around, and then Riri was barging into the dorm room with your name on her lips.

She spoke with so much venom it was a miracle you didn't drop dead, but then her eyes found the two of you curled up on the loveseat pushed into the corner of the right side of the room. Neither of you were aware of her presence and she wished you had some type of warning of her arrival. Because then maybe Riri would've been spared the horrific sight before her. That was now making her blood run cold, and her heart beat a little too fast.

Violet was settled in your lap with one of arms secured around her waist keeping her swaying form steady. Your other hand curled around both of her legs. Her head leaning to the side giving you a better angle with your face buried into her neck. Her eyes were shut tight every now and then blinking open with a hazy look in them. The main problem was you weren't pleasuring her with neck kisses. Instead it looked more like you had sunk your teeth into her neck, and was literally drinking her blood.

Riri wanted to remain in denial about what she was witnessing, but the sound of you taking in large gulps of the bodily liquid gave the truth away. You were drinking her blood with a hunger and desperation of. A human stranded in a desert for days without a source of water. Then there was the small trail of dark red blood trickling down her neck into her chest.

Riri searched for a reasonable explanation for what she was seeing right now, but avoided the most obvious one. Instead she decided this was some weird kink of yours. Back when her and Natalie were going through there vampire-werewolf obsession. Consuming shows like The Vampire Diaries, Teen Wolf, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer in a matter of a week or two. Then there was the Twilight movie marathons on repeat. She read an article about people who were so messed up in the head believing they were actual real vampires. Going so far as to having their teeth shaped into fangs, and drinking human blood. That what this was you were one of those freaks, and Violet must have been into this kind of stuff.

You had enough common sense to know Riri would never go for this, so you found someone on campus who did. Y'all probably found each other on some fetish website like this, and realized through daily chatting. The two of you were in the same vicinity of each other.

Yep that's exactly what this was.

"Y-Y/N"

So why did she stutter through a broken voice when she tried to say your name again with fear finding its way in.

This time she capture Violet’s attention whose eyes opened pulling herself out of the trance. You had her in the dark-haired girl with purple streaks searched the room till she found Riri standing by the door. Her backpack on the floor by her feet with her books spilling out. One hand was still on the doorknob while the other one remained by her side quaking with terror along with the rest of her body. Her eyes widened as she stared at the two of you unable to look away.

"Oh crap y/n stop ahh" Violet tried to protest wincing when you bit down a bit harder. You were halfway full and she knew whenever you got like this. It was almost impossible to get you to stop making her fool for even trying. She still tried again shoving at your shoulder. "Its Riri stop she's here."

If the urgency in her voice register in your head then the name did because you ripped yourself away from her neck. A little too fast and rough your fangs grazing her neck enough to leave two small cuts behind. You muttered a quick apology, but Violet barely noticed climbing off your lap. It wasn't the first time.

"Riri hey I need you to calm down alright" You said in a gentle voice. Seeing the absolute fearful expression she was sporting along with a few tears building up in her eyes. The young girl was terrified of you.

"Come here and just let me explain." You coaxed her softly reaching out a hand towards while slowing getting up from the sofa. Not even making it one step before she tore out of the room her legs carrying down the hallway with newfound speed.

You heard her hyperventilating all the way across campus not stopping till she reached. Her own dorm room slamming the door behind her where Riri proceeded to slid down against the door sinking to the floor. That's when the sobbing started and you couldn't take it anymore.

You stopped listening falling back into the soft cushions with your head in your hands.

"Y/N" Violet called out your name. "Hey its okay we can fix this. You can compel her" she reminded you.

You shook your head still trying to process that the love of your life knew your biggest and darkest secret. A secret no human was supposed to know. A secret you promised your father you'd protect if he let you come to this human school.

A secret that could get her killed if you didn't come up with a plan. But for now you were too busy nursing a broken heart too think about all that. The image of Riri Williams crying at your true nature embedded in your mind forever.

So this is what heartbreak felt like.

Tag List: @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @justariellove @greek-freak101 @mbakuetshurisprincess @deliciousfestsalad @rhayanm @tchhairbandhere @ajawasblog @chaz-tish @6-noir @ilacknames @shinsousliya @inmyheadimobsessed

[minthara]

i extracted files and searched for Minthara's name, some snippets (I sadly cant see who says them AND its really hard to tell one line from another) and it shows the romance is either bugged or they cut it out of the game

its all jumbled up, so theres 100 % more i cant find, but it doesnt mention her name. i did not add lines i personally encountered in game

SPOILERS

pregnancy

So, Minthara has one in the proverbial oven?

I hope we're not finished with our current labours before Minthara drops her egg. War is the perfect nursery for a child.

Minthara with child… Somehow I can't picture her sitting around the campfire, knitting baby booties…

Minthara's pregnant. A new life, a little one, sprung from all this fuckin' chaos.

companions about/to minthara (GUESSED BY ME!! IT DOESNT SAY WHO!!)

It's funny seeing you so smitten, Minthara. Didn't think you were able.

How curious - I've only ever known Minthara to moan with pleasure when somebody's losing a limb.

So, you and Minthara, is it? I suppose that little spark we shared has been snuffed out then. I don't blame you though - she is a… compelling prospect.

And you're carousing with Minthara.

Not interested in Minthara's leftovers, I'm afraid.

Any doubts about falling for a foe, Minthara? Or does that just add spice to things?

Minthara's something of a closed book, but I suspect a heart of gold lurks beneath that stern countenance.

So. You and Minthara. Wow. Impressive.

I bet Minthara is fun.

To choose Minthara over, well, anyone… It's certainly a brave decision. One might hazard to say reckless. Stupid. Fatal…

I hope you and Minthara are very happy together. Or miserable. Whatever she prefers.

Right. Well, far be it for me to stand in the way of true love. Or anything else Minthara wants, for that matter.

What about Minthara? Weren't you guys in some kind of horrific power play masquerading as romance?

Hey, so, what's romance like in the Underdark, Minthara?

And you favour Minthara, no less. I thought you valued yourself. Minthara certainly doesn't.

pc to/about minthara (GUESSED BY ME!! IT DOESNT SAY WHO!!)

Amorous passions usually make people more considerate, Minthara. Kinder. Sympathetic. Better at cooperating.

Even my people know the value of a carefully crafted coalition, Minthara. Is our own alliance not a case in point?

Who do you love, Minthara?

I'm yours, Minthara.

I've decided to pursue a relationship with Minthara. I thought you should know.

You've judged my affections wrongly - I am much closer to Minthara!

It was only sex, Minthara. Do you have to be so dramatic?

I'll do it. Just please - don't hurt Minthara.

Yes. I'm yours, Minthara.

She comes in here, into our camp, and lays hands on my Minthara?!

We'll find your family, Minthara. And slaughter them. Would you enjoy that?

You think I'm beautiful? Oh, Minthara.

narrator (GUESSED BY ME!! IT DOESNT SAY WHO!!)

You slept with the drow Minthara. You pleased her.

The guard is happy to let you pass - Minthara is rather less happy about your choice of words.

You slip into Minthara's mind while all her attention is focused on saving her own skin. You can feel her guilt everywhere, writhing and churning. All it takes is one little push…

idk

Who knows how long the real Minthara has been strapped to Orin's altar? We owe it to her to bring her back safely. She would do no less for you or I.

You're that True Soul that's been chumming around with Minthara, aren't you?

Care to share any of Minthara's weaknesses? Or would it take too long to go through them all?

And Minthara is - eh. A friend of yours, I am sure.

Distract her with thoughts of your night with Minthara.

Orin, masquerading as Minthara… That certainly explains her vociferous antipathy towards me.

And what more beautiful terror can there be than that wrought by Minthara and her love?

Why so surprised? Minthara murdered her way out of the womb.

I'm glad to know you have a softer side, Minthara. I was beginning to think you rather heartless.

Minthara Baenre. It is fair to say her intimacy is not easily won. Nevertheless, I did. Tried. (ORIN??)

My good friend Minthara is the funniest person I know.

Orin thinks Minthara's abduction is an ultimatum to kill Gortash.

status

Partnered with Minthara

Orin abducted Minthara. She told us that she'll release her if we kill Gortash.

Minthara is in Orin's clutches.

searching for "baenre"

It is true. Surface food lacks flavour. House Baenre banquets were legendary.

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

I'll Keep You Safe // Shauna Shipman

request: It would be like the reader has been pinning after Shauna for some time, and Shauna likes her back, but the plane crash happens, and the reader gets injured, and Shauna takes care of the Reader?

prompts: none!

summary: you had always been terrified of flying, so shauna promises that she'll help you make it through. but after a horrific crash, her promise comes to mean so much more.

warnings: blood, injuries, plane crash (kinda obvious lol), drug usage (xanax), not proofread

word count: 1.3k

a/n: implied fem!reader but no pronouns or defining features mentioned

You clutched the straps of your backpack tightly as you boarded the plane. You had always been horribly afraid of flying, but you didn’t really have a choice. The Nationals game was coming up quickly, and you wouldn’t have had time to drive all the way to Seattle if you wanted to be there in time. So, you didn’t really have much of a choice if you wanted to play in the game.

Finding an empty window seat, you sat down, placing your backpack on the ground in front of you. The flight would only be a few hours, you could tough it out. Hopefully. Luckily, you managed to swipe some of your mom’s xanax before you left that morning. You’d just take the pills and sleep through the flight. You’d wake up in Seattle and it’d feel like you never even left the ground in the first place. It wouldn’t be that bad. Right?

“You nervous?” Shauna asked, sitting down in the empty seat beside you.

Just hearing the sound of her voice made your face heat up, a warmth covering your cheeks. You looked over to her and smiled weakly, hoping to appear at least somewhat normal.

“Is it that obvious?” you laughed nervously, fiddling with your necklace.

She smiled. “A bit. You look really pale, and you’re shaking. First time flying?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ve- I’ve done it before. Just not in a long time. And I wasn’t this terrified of it then.”

She grabbed your hand comfortingly, shooting you a warm smile. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be fine. And I’ll be right here the whole time to help you through it.”

You smiled back, feeling your blush only getting worse. “Thanks, Shauna.”

“Anytime, y/n.”

The plane started moving, and you instinctively went to double check your seatbelt. Shauna giggled softly.

“You’re gonna be fine, y/n. I’m sure of it.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to at least try and believe that her words were true. You reached down into your backpack and grabbed the pill bottle you swiped, taking out a xanax and swallowing it. You offered the bottle to Shauna.

“You want one? It’s xanax. I’m hoping to just sleep through the whole flight.”

She smiled. “Sure, why not?”

She took one of your mom’s pills, and you put the bottle back in your bag. Soon the plane was in the air, and your surroundings began to blur. Before you knew it, you were asleep.

~

“Y/n? Y/n? Y/n!” Shauna yelled, shaking you by the shoulders, trying to get you to wake up.

“Wha…?” you asked, still half asleep and delirious.

Shauna said something else, but you didn’t quite understand it. Then you felt something weird. It was almost like falling. You thought it was just a side effect of the pill, until you heard the screaming. Then a stinging on the side of your face jolted you back into reality. You looked over surprised to find out that Shauna had slapped you.

“Wake up!” she yelled, the worry in her eyes making the panic building inside of you even worse. 

You looked out your window and saw the mountains getting closer. And closer. And closer. And then it was black.

~

You slowly blinked awake as you felt yourself being carried. No, not carried. Dragged. Your vision was blurry and you couldn’t feel anything below your waist. Your eyes came into focus and you saw Shauna above you, dragging you out of the remains of the plane you had once been in. Suddenly, it was like the fog in your mind had cleared. You realized what happened. The plane had crashed. You were stranded.

“Y/n? Y/n, you’re gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be fine, just- just hang on,” Shauna said, setting you down against a tree.

“Y/n, are you alright? Does anything hurt?” she asked, her voice shaking in worry.

“I think so. But I can’t…” you trailed off as you reached behind you to touch your back. Your hand came in contact with something wet. 

You pulled your hand back to look at it, your eyes widening when you saw the blood covering your fingers. Your mouth went dry and you couldn’t form words. Fear took over your body, filling your every sense. You couldn’t feel anything below your waist and there was blood on your back. No… It can’t be what you’re thinking. Right?

“Oh my god! You’re bleeding!” Shauna gasped, gently pulling you forward to look at your back.

A large jagged scrap of metal protruded from your lower spine. You had said you hadn’t felt any pain, but how could you have not felt this? Unless…

“Y/n, can you move your legs?” Shauna asked, her voice quivering.

You tried to move them, even just wiggle them a bit, but they didn’t budge. You tried again, but it wasn’t working. You couldn’t feel them, and you couldn’t move them. You let out a choked sob as the reality of it all sunk in. You were paralyzed from the waist down. Your spinal cord must’ve been severed by the metal in your back. Maybe if you were back home, you could’ve gotten to the hospital in time for them to fix this. But you were in the middle of nowhere, and there was no telling if or when help would come. You were stuck like this. And there might not be any chance for you to fix this.

“Oh my god,” Shauna whispered, pulling you into a hug.

You sobbed into her shoulder as you hugged her back, clinging to her tightly. Shauna squeezed you even tighter, and you could’ve sworn you heard her sniffle.

“We’re gonna fix this. It- it’ll be okay,” Shauna said, but you could tell she didn’t believe her own words. 

“How? I- I’m never gonna walk again. I can’t run, I can’t play soccer, I can’t even stand up! It’s never going to be okay!” you yelled, still sobbing heavily.

“I- I’m going to fix this. I’ll take care of you, y/n. We’ll make this better. Somehow, we’re going to get through this. But right now, we need to get that thing out of you before it does even more damage.”

You nodded, sniffling. Shauna helped you to lay down on your stomach. She walked away and came back with Misty and Tai, along with a first aid kit that had miraculously survived the crash.

Shauna knelt down in front of you. “Okay, they’re gonna pull it out. Just- just hold my hand. Focus on me.”

You nodded, grabbing Shauna’s hand tightly. Misty handed you a balled up scrap of fabric.

“Here, bite down on this. You might still have some nerves intact, so this could hurt.”

You bit down on the fabric, and squeezed Shauna’s hand even tighter. Without warning, Misty and Tai began to pull out the metal scrap. You screamed out in pain, biting down on the fabric harder. You couldn’t feel everything, but what you did feel was the worst pain you had ever experienced. You clutched Shauna’s hand even tighter, your eyes welling up with tears again. You felt your head spin and your vision went spotty.

“Okay, it’s out! You did it! It’s out, y/n,” Shauna said, trying to smile, but you could tell she was still panicked.

Misty and Tai sewed up the wound on your back and bandaged it. Shauna helped you sit up again, and you rested your weight against her. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and you placed one over her torso. You heard sniffling and looked up to see Shauna was crying.

She smiled down at you sadly and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Despite everything you had just been through, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach and your face grew hot.

“I’m gonna take care of you. I promise that no matter what happens, I’m gonna keep you safe. We’re gonna make it through this.”

“Will we?” you asked.

“Yeah.” Shauna nodded, but you could tell by the tone of her voice, that she was lying. 

tags: none!

[heystovepipeboys]

who the hell is lew?, for the wip game please. (i’m shaking like a wet chihuahua, jessi)

Ready for the angst? This is some more delicious whumpy Nix self-indulgence. MCU Winter Soldier AU, Nix going on the run after the events of CA:TWS, based on some amazingly satisfying rp threads Gwen and I wrote a while back. (@batmanschmatman you write Dick so good <33)

Currently, it's not really in a fic format at all and needs a bunch of reworking but here is a little snippet:

He can remember remembering, before. Things came back to him in confused flashes that he had no context for but he clung to each little scrap desperately all the same. When he remembered too much of himself to stand the monster HYDRA had turned him into, he'd fought back, screamed himself hoarse, tried to disappear into whatever city his target was in, and they’d always found him and they’d always brought him back. They'd strapped him down in the chair, fried his brain until there was nothing left but their weapon. Then they’d sent him out to take out another target, wiped him once more for good measure, and put him on ice until they needed him again. There’s a tiny twisted part of him that crawls with a desperate longing for the clarity of the chair, the conductor pads pressing at his temples, that blinding white pain and the blank slate he became after. It feels like too much is written inside his brain now and he doesn't know how he's supposed to handle any of it. Christ, he wishes he could get drunk. From his place in the back room with the torn-up floor and graffiti-covered walls and broken glass in the corners, he hears the squeak and grind of the front door hinges clearly. He barely shifts. That was part of the charm of this wreck of a place – other than it just feeling like an appropriate outward expression of what a fucking wreck he feels inside – those rusty hinges. No one's sneaking up on him. He’s got a sidearm and a combat knife (not to mention the goddamn arm) but he doesn't jump to get into a fighting stance or reach for his weapons. He doesn't feel like doing anything at all, so he really hopes it's not whatever remains of HYDRA trying to reclaim their asset. (Does he hope it's Captain America, coming to look for him? Part of him does, and he hates himself for that. The guilt when he thinks about his fist coming down in his face is bad enough that it feels like it's going to choke him. He knew him, part of him knew him, and he still tried to kill him, too terrified and confused and broken to stop himself.  But he hadn't left Pennsylvania, paralysed at the border out of the state. Maybe that was out of some stupid kind of hope he doesn't even remotely deserve to feel, like maybe Dick is going to be able to save him from the horrific things he's done. But what if his programming is still in there, even with HYDRA gone? What if he tries again? He wants to scramble up and run when he thinks of that possibility.) Too late. There’s movement in the hallway.

thank youuu for the ask <3

[andorerso]

Rebelcaptain Whumptober: Day 6

for the prompt recording (warnings: recorded torture, nothing too graphic)

When Cassian’s tracker was turned off, Jyn could tell something was very wrong.

Let it be known, she was against this from the start. When one of their agents discovered an underground crime syndicate called the Glorious Dawn before going MIA soon after, it fell to Cassian to find out more. It wasn’t an extraction mission; Agent Varga was presumed to be dead. But what little he’d disclosed about the Glorious Dawn before his disappearance was unsettling enough to warrant a thorough investigation.

Kidnapping people to be tortured for show. Broadcasting their death-struggle over the holonet. Letting viewers bid and choose what happens to those poor souls — and if that wasn’t horrific enough, large parts of that money went into the Empire’s pocket to fund their weapons and tech development. Bad news all around. An operation that needed to be stopped. Jyn understood that.

She also understood the horrible fate that had more than likely befallen Agent Varga, and she was damned if she let it happen to Cassian.

She couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that churned in her stomach on the whole journey to this small, backwater planet, but she dismissed it — tried to dismiss it as natural. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to worry about Cassian’s safety on a mission; it’s just what happened when you loved someone. Perfectly normal for her to be antsy. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was somehow different. Dangerous. Foreboding.

Jyn resolved to bite her tongue and keep her thoughts to herself. Cassian was an intelligence officer, and he didn’t need her to baby him. He was a far cry from a novice; that’s why Draven had chosen him. Because he was the best for the job. And he certainly wouldn’t have resigned from the mission regardless. Jyn didn’t think he’d ever told the rebellion no (Galen Erso and Scarif notwithstanding.) He’d happily carve out his own heart from his chest and serve it to the figureheads of the Alliance on a platter if that’s what was required of him. She’d only make it worse if she expressed her fears.

Because someone had to do it.

But why did that someonealways have to be him?

With mounting resentment towards Draven, towards the rebellion, towards this entire fucking operation, Jyn sent him off with a kiss and a plea to stay safe. She’d wanted, so badly, to ask him to check in as often as he could, but knew it would be too risky. He’d give sign of life when it was possible without compromising himself. And she’ll wait until he returned, or…

Well.

Jyn was just back-up, only to intervene if something went wrong.

Something like his tracker getting disabled a few weeks into their assignment.

The first thing she did was pull up that forsaken holosite on her datapad where they broadcasted their sick little game to their bloodthirsty audience. The site was strictly exclusive and carefully hidden on the holonet, not something you could stumble upon by accident — or at all. The password changed every week, but Cassian had forwarded the latest one in his last encrypted transmission two days ago. Which meant Jyn had access.

A part of her wished she didn’t. Because for the first time since they arrived, a new show had been announced.

An image of Cassian strapped to a chair greeted her. He was unconscious, his head lolling forward and his hair shielding his face from view. The buttons on his shirt were undone, sweaty skin and dark wisps of hair peeking out from underneath. But he seemed unharmed. For now.

Various tools and gadgets and syringes lay scattered on an equipment table next to him, and the words under the feed read “Show starts in two hours! Place your bid now!”

Jyn nearly threw her datapad at the wall, wanting to hurl.

Two hours. Two hours was all she had to find him before…

She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in deeply. Tried to push down the fear and panic rising from the core of her, threatening to overtake her executive functions. She needed to keep her head clear. Stay alert. Figure out an action plan. But all she saw behind her eyelids was Cassian’s figure strapped to that chair, helpless and vulnerable, and the comments she read under the feed. Asking for him to be drugged, to be beaten, to be hurt.

It started out tame, as it always did, but the worse ones… The ones she couldn’t even speak.

A wounded sound rattled in her chest, her entire body shaking so bad she nearly dropped the datapad. She didn’t need a weapon, she would slaughter them all with her bare hands.

She just needed a location.

And she knew where to start. Agent Varga’s contact on the planet had to have known something. Jyn would make him talk, whatever it cost.

Opening her eyes, she ran her finger across Cassian’s figure on the screen and tried to summon all the strength she possessed even as she felt like crumbling to the floor. She couldn’t lose her composure now; he needed her.

“I’ll find you,” she whispered, a promise he wouldn’t hear. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

xxx

Agent Varga’s contact was a Rodian male who was proving to be rather unwilling to talk when asked nicely.

And Jyn had tried. To ask nicely. But time was limited. She wouldn’t leave Cassian to be cut apart piece by piece like a slab of meat.

So if violence was the only language the Glorious Dawn understood…

The Rodian squirmed in the chair she’d tied him to, blood dripping down his face from a large gash on his forehead.

“Tell me where he is,” Jyn said again.

“They know who is,” the Rodian spat, ignoring her question. “A spy for the rebellion. They’ll make it slow. Your man is coming home in tiny boxes.”

He laughed, loud and gleeful, and Jyn clenched her fists as she tried to control her rage. He was egging her on. Trying to get a reaction.

She had to be in control here, even if all she really wanted to do was beat his face to a pulp.

“If they know who he is,” Jyn said through gritted teeth, every word an effort, “then they know an intelligence agent is not the ideal target. They’re trained to withstand pain.”

The Rodian laughed harder, something almost maniac in his tone.

“What’s so fucking funny?”

“You’re mistaken. That makes him more interesting. Makes it fun to see how far we can push him before he cracks.” His mouth curled into a wicked grin. “The other agent cracked easier than we thought. Maybe this one will be more resilient.”

Jyn punched him, foregoing her batons this time. The idea of beating him to a pulp was looking more and more appealing by the second.

“Where is the base?” she snarled, no more room for the illusion of patience.

The Rodian spat a mouthful of green blood at her feet, but this seedy little motel room was so dirty, it hardly made a difference. “They’ll kill me if I tell you.”

“I will kill you.”

“I’m more scared of them.”

Her lips curled into a sharp, threatening smile. He had no idea what she was capable of. But he’d find out.

“Big mistake.”

xxx

Jyn twirled the bloody blade in her hand as she watched the last rays of the sun cast the landscape in a pinkish hue. She was losing time. The show would start soon, and Cassian would not survive the night.

He might hold out for a while, but she didn’t want to take the risk. Didn’t want to let anyone touch even a hair on his head.

Behind her, the Rodian was coughing and gasping for air around the blood in his mouth. She had to slow down before he actually died on her.

“So? Still nothing?” Her voice was coldly detached. She’d shut down, stopped feeling anything about twenty minutes ago. The only thing that still sparked a flicker of emotion was the thought of Cassian. Her partner. Her love. Her home.

If she didn’t find him soon…

“It’s too bad you’re a rebel bitch,” the Rodian wheezed, “you’re good at this. You’d fit right in with us. Not so different after all, huh?”

A cheap shot. Jyn let it roll off her like water.

“Don’t deflect. Where’s the base?”

“How much time can you waste on me? The show starts soon, and they’ll tear him to tiny pieces. Varga squealed like a little pig, you know. I wonder what sounds your man will make when they’re digging in his guts. I can get you VIP seats if you want.”

He laughed, though it was a strained sound. No longer so confident; a dying man grasping at his last semblance of control. Jyn tuned it out, her gaze trained on her datapad which lit up with a notification. A signal.

Heart hammering in her throat, she watched the pulsing red dot on the map. Hope flared in her chest, tentative but persistent. Cassian’s tracker. They turned it back on.

Which meant it was a trap. She wasn’t stupid. They were baiting her. But she had to go.

It was her only lead; and regardless… It might as well have been guaranteed death.

She’d always come for him.

“You’re right,” Jyn said, cutting off the Rodian mid-sentence. She had no idea what he’d been saying, but with a flourish, she turned and fired a blaster bolt between his eyes. “I don’t need you anymore.”

xxx

It took her less than fifteen minutes to arrive at the location where Cassian’s tracker had pinged outside the city limits. An abandoned imperial compound greeted her, imposing with its high walls and tall towers.

Jyn hopped off the speeder she stole and listened. Something was off.

No guards posted at the entrance. No movement from the yard. No sounds from inside. Only the wind whistled through the trees, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

Ghosts were the only thing frequenting this building now.

But there was one window, on the third floor, where light streamed outside into the brisk, darkening evening. Jyn eyed it warily, that feeling of wrongness only expanding. The light seemed to almost beckon her, — come closer, come see — but she couldn’t shake the thought that this whole thing was off. The tracker being activated, the absence of living beings anywhere, that single light spilling from the window…

Jyn swallowed, shook her head. There was no time to waste. Blaster in hand, she made it inside the yard, more and more unnerved by the lack of resistance she found.

Trap, trap, trap, her mind screamed, but she ignored it and kept going. Cassian needed her. Her brain latched onto the thought of him, lending her strength and ignoring everything else.

She was furious enough to put up a good fight if they did ambush her. Let them try, let them fucking see what the daughter of Saw Gerrera was capable of.

She, too, was more than ready to give them a show.

More silence greeted her inside the compound. Jyn crept through the quiet halls, eyes flicking in every direction, but no one was hiding in the shadows, no one was trying to stab her in the back. Her footsteps were almost soundless as she made her way up the stairs towards the room where she saw the light. So close now. But as she reached the second-floor landing, muted sounds interrupted the eerie silence.

Heavy panting. A struggle. Something creaked.

Then, a cry of pain.

Jyn picked up her steps, no longer caring if someone heard her. There was only one objective hanging in front of her: find Cassian. Get to him before he was hurt. Protect him. The urge overshadowed everything else.

Perhaps that’s why she didn’t realize what was happening until she pushed the door open with her blaster.

The room was empty.

Jyn’s blaster slowly lowered as she stared at the scene before her with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Only a single holoprojector stood in the middle of the room, showcasing a sight she never wanted to see. Next to it, a forgotten tracker lying in the dirt.

It wasn’t a trap. It was a distraction.

Cassian was awake now, still strapped down in that chair, his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. The world tilted around her, her legs trembling, but Jyn couldn’t take her eyes off him. Unable to stop seeing what they were doing to him. One of his fingers was trapped in a vice, and a masked man wearing dark robes was in the process of tightening the tool.

Jyn stood, rooted to the spot, unable to move or breathe or think. It felt like it was happening to someone else. She stood until she heard the crunching of bones, the tearing of skin, and another pained shout tore free from Cassian’s mouth.

With an angry scream, Jyn kicked the holoprojector, sending it flying against the wall. The image cut off, and dead silence followed.

Time had run out.

“You fuckers!” she yelled before crumbling to the ground, all her strength gone. She’d failed. She didn’t find him in time, and now he was… Now he was…

Shivers wracked her body, the image of Cassian’s hand in that vice burned into her mind. That would be far from the worst of it, she knew. They were just getting started. The Rodian wasn’t kidding when he said they’d tear him apart bit by bit.

She’ll burn this fucking city to the ground —

Lightheaded, Jyn buried her head in her hands and allowed herself to weep. Though it hadn’t been her who was taken, who was tortured, she felt like her hand was in that vice too, crushed under its cruel grip. Paralyzing fear weighed down her limbs, making it impossible to think straight. For a wild second, she thought she might throw up, but she pushed the bile down, her fingernails digging into her own leg as she tried to find some sort of anchor to hold onto. Something to ground her. Anything.

She’d give anything —

Her thoughts spiraled.

She had to find him. She had to. It wasn’t too late, she could still — she could still save him, she could still bring him home and make sure he was safe, make sure he recovered, make sure nobody ever hurt him again. She had to find him. She had to.

Jyn lifted her head, taking deep shuddering breaths to get her pulse under control. Back to business, no time to fall apart. Get yourself together. She wiped away her tears, her hand coming back smudged from her eyeliner. Her heart rate slowed, a little bit. She needed a plan.

As appealing as it was to burn down the city, it wouldn’t help much. She couldn’t go knocking on door to door either, and the Rodian was dead.

It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. She didn’t have time to find anyone else associated with the group; let alone capture and interrogate them. But she had access to the live feed, though her stomach revolted at the idea of bringing it back up. Maybe she could get some clues from the show… Maybe she could pose as a bidder? Try to wrangle something, anything from the comments?

As her brain whirled with ideas, each one more desperate than the other, something else on the ground caught her eye.

Next to the tracker lay something small… Something purple.

With a frown, Jyn stood and examined it closer. It was a flower. She picked it up, turning it in her hand. A pang of familiarity washed over her as she stared at the purple petals with pink streaks. She’d seen that flower before.

Varga’s last transmission. Made from a room in a brothel downtown. The flowers on the wall behind him. Morning glory, it was called. The whole place was decked out in them.

Morning glory… The Glorious Dawn?

Jyn crushed the petal in her hand, determination hardening her features. Cassian had left her a clue, and she knew where he was.

She was coming.

[sapphicdib]

I see your also down bad for lttm, and I appreciate someone else who loves her.

anon i am so down fucking HORRIFIC for this blue robot muppet it’s embarrassing. i’m sitting in the back of my work on my break drawing her in a catgirl outfit rn LMFAOOOO

i’m taking this as an opportunity to gush about my robot wife so strap in

HER VOICE IS SO SWEET LIKE HELLO?? like her little in game voice??? i wish it played the whole time she was talking to you, it’s so soothing and pretty and AHHH!!! plus being in her structure is so comforting. you can hear her HUMMING in some rooms!! HOW CUTE IS THAT?!?!? she’s so dorky oh my god…i love playing spearmaster literally just cuz i can hang out with moon AUGH.

also i’m a loser and any time she’s like “oh! little creature!” in game it makes my heart flutter okay. AND WHEN SHE CALLS YOU LITTLE ARCHEOLOGIST?? sobbing. i have brain damage. she’s so precious. she has such a kind face.

straight up unabashed thirst beneath the cut but

WHY SHE BUILT LIKE THAAAAAT. LIKE WHY DID THE DEVS MAKE HER FUCKING THICC. HER THIGHS??? H. HELLO??????? i want her so bad it’s not even funny 💀💀💀 can i plz just sit in her lap while she works and listen to her humming. that’s all i want. god bles. tracing the lil welding seams along her body would b very soothing. and also i draw all my iterators with fucky exposed robotic spines and i wanna grab moons so bad. i. mmghnnc ccdndnddhdm. [blacks out]

[psychedelic-ink]

kinktober '22 ║ XIX

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 2k

summary: once a month you and frankie play a game.

warnings: pray/predator, chase kink, piv, gun kink, facial, lotta pet names used by frankie, dirty talking

a/n: it's not mentioned specifically but there is a safeword in place, this is a consensual scenario. enjoy xx

MLISTS .  LIBRARY. TAGLIST . KINKTOBER '22

You can hear the blood pounding in your ears, the tips of your fingers tingling with fear, numb from the cold. Your lungs feel like they might explode at any given moment. They convulse as you inhale shuddering breaths, the air chilling your organs. Running becomes more difficult with every passing moment, the maze you’re in doing little in showing you the way out. He’s not that far away, you can sense his deep brown eyes observing your every move, taking across your skin like the prey that you are. 

Once a month you two played this game. Santiago, the fucking magician that he is, knew someone that owned a maze. It’s a horrific place, and you’re hundred percent sure that The Shining was filmed here. No one could convince you otherwise. 

Your feet slow down, coming to a halt. Another dead end. Chewing your bottom lip raw, you look up, all you can see is the dark cloudy sky. A series of loud caws echo within the maze, it makes you tremble and urges you to go back the way you came from. Just as you’re about to turn, you see a dark silhouette passing by. You jump, fear coating your skin in the form of cold sweat. The click of a gun follows and you immediately start to run the other direction, not caring if you’d already taken that path or not. 

“You’re getting sloppy,” you hear Frankie call out, his voice low laced with an unspoken threat. “I would’ve already caught you if I wanted to,” 

He means that. However, it isn’t your fault. The only thing you know is how to run, and even that you can barely do with such little exercise that goes on in your life. Frankie is a trained soldier, and a good one at that, you don’t stand a chance against his skills and  experience. You swallow, the knot in your throat growing as you desperately try to ignore the ache between your legs. You enjoy seeing him like this, it’s thrilling. There was just something so enticing about seeing him so in control, fully in his element. 

You will your legs to move faster but stumble instead, catching yourself at the very last moment. Your chest heaves, hurting and throbbing as you take in deep breaths. You feel sick, stomach churning uncontrollably. You feel disoriented as you run, every path you choose seeming familiar but not at the same time. Your mind tricks you into thinking that the moist soil underneath you starts to slip, the maze spinning and spinning. His steps grow closer, or maybe he’s already ahead of you. You don’t know. 

“I can smell the fear clinging to your skin. Being afraid isn’t going to help you sweetheart!” 

Where is his voice coming from? Is he behind you? In front of you? Shit. 

You lose this race every time, just once you would want to win. Just once you want to see that finish line–

Another turn and you see it, the iron gate. Ivy fills the emptiness between bars, roses mid-bloom scattered across the dark green. If it was any other moment you would revel in their beauty, take a mental picture, but you can’t stop when you’re already so close. Your calves tremble. You don’t hear nor feel Frankie anymore. Doubt curls around your mind like the ivy does to the gate, is this actually the exit? You’ve never seen it before so you don’t really have a base of reference. 

A slow cap rings into the night, the sound nothing bu mocking. Goosebumps lick your chilled, yet still warm, skin. You shudder at the sound, slowly turning as your heart beats like a bird in a cage. You see Frankie right behind you, his head tilted, a cruel-mocking smile tugging at his flush lips. The gun hangs loosely on his back, the strap covering a part of his chest. What a shame, you think as your gaze lingers on the strap. 

“You almost made it,” he teases, taking a step forward. “Congrats,” 

“I can still make it. You still haven’t captured me,” 

There’s an unbridled challenge in your tone, you tilt your chin up. The wind blows cold between you, his smile grows and you watch as his thick fingers curl around the strap around his shoulder. He gestures towards the gate with his chin, his grin never wavering. 

“Go on then, try to make it.” 

Your heart stills. The tone of his voice is enough to strengthen the pull your body already has towards him. You almost move towards him instead, your mind deeming that you’re already fighting a lost battle. His eyes glimmer with amusement, his eyebrows knitted together, it completes his look of pity. 

And only then you snap out of it. 

You run towards the gate, skin bursting with sweat, you feel the grime and dirt that clings to your skin. It disgusts you but you don’t care. Every nerve in your body is screaming for you to push forward, to run faster. You reach forward, a phantom sensation of iron touching your fingertips makes you smile– 

Your world shifts and the air is forced out of your lungs. The gate disappears. You feel his rifle on your throat, his chest flushed tightly against your back. You struggle but it’s in vain, his grip as strong as steel. Frankie hums, the curve of his nose brushing the side of your face, he inhales your scent and pulls you closer to him, you let out a whine. 

“So close,” he keens. “Yet so far,” 

He grinds his hips into your ass, a hushed gasp falling from your lips as you feel the hard outline of his cock. The gate forgotten, you lean into him, your body seeking to feel more of him. 

“I love watching you run, mi pájaro bonita,” his tongue touches your neck, a shiver climbs up your spine. “However, I think I like having you trapped in my arms a bit more,”  

You find yourself suddenly laying on the ground, the soil cold underneath your heated body. Frankie towers over you, still standing tall as he keeps the rifle upright between your legs. When your gaze flickers up to meet his, you can barely see the color of his eyes. 

“Make yourself wet for me,” 

When you stay completely still, he presses the gun further into your arousal, you whimper at the friction, your pussy already throbbing from the chase. 

“Do I need to repeat myself?” 

You quickly shake your head, his tongue similar to what he used when he was still a soldier. Biting your bottom lip, you raise your hips, grinding up into the weapon with trembling legs. The pressure makes your eyes roll back, arousal staining the seam of your underwear. Frankie’s hungry gaze prompts you to move faster, and you thrust your hips accordingly. Each time you slide up the barrel of the gun, light bursts within your eyelids, little black dots hovering in your vision when you open them. Your moans become louder, breathier. For a split second you drag your heavy gaze up to him, a gasp parting your lips at the same time, with a growl he starts to move the rifle up and down, adding more pleasure to your already aching pussy. 

“Frankie–” you mewl, your back arches. “Please fuck me–” 

His nostrils flare as he breathes, exhaling from his mouth. You roll your hips, your gaze falling to the rifle, you see it shine with your slick. Your head falls and you stifle a moan with the back of your hand. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” he rasps. “So pretty…You like it when I chase you around baby? You like it when I tease you with my gun?” 

A whimper escapes your throat and you furiously nod, lips still hidden behind your hand. Annoyed, Frankie clicks his jaw, head tilting to the side. 

“Words baby,” he hisses. “Let me see those pretty lips,” 

Shaking, you remove your hand. 

“I-I love it when you chase me around…and when you tease me with your gun,” 

“That’s my girl,” he coos. Frankie lets his gun fall to the ground and kneels between your legs. He tugs down your jeans, thumb notched between your wet falls. Frankie hums with approval. “So wet, want me to fuck you with my big cock now amor?” 

“Please…” 

When he’s inside you the world around you stops. Everything is a rainbow of blurred shapes and colors except for him, sparks fly across your mudded skin at the way he stretches you wide, a tingle of pain pooling between your legs and spreading throughout the rest of your body. It feels impeccable. Frankie lets go of his body, his full weight heavy on top of you, a feeling akin to a heavy blanket. His skin smells of sweat and gunpowder. As he thrusts into you, you inhale him again and again, reveling in the way he groans into your ear. 

It doesn’t take you long for you to shatter underneath him, the adrenaline and the pleasure combining into one mind numbing firework. Your body lifts from the patchy earth, arms wrapping around the column of his neck as your muscles go taut. His hard thrusts fades into a soothing grinding of his hips, his eyelids flutter as you squeeze his cock and gush around him. 

“You were just waiting for my cock to cum weren’t you?” he asks between pants and you whimper. With a smile Frnakie leans in to nuzzle your neck. “So good to me, always. Can I cum on your pretty face sweet girl?” 

“Yes,” 

Frankie chuckles at the way you pout when he pulls out of you, his cock still hard and heavy as he makes his way up to straddle your chest. The tip of his cock is a mouthwatering red, you stick your tongue out, watching with a lust filled gaze as he fists himself only an inch away from your face. His head falls back, your eyes follow the way his veins meander down his neck, his muscles tense as he groans. You swear it’s the most beautiful sound you hear. 

“Mine,” you hear him say from underneath his breath. “Mine, mine, mine–” 

He sounds hysteric, animalistic, it makes you shudder. 

“I’m yours,” you whisper, his gaze drops to you and you repeat. “I’m yours, now mark me, baby– Please,” 

His hips stutter as he cum, a loud moan following as thick ropes of cum stain your face. You feel his seed heavy on your eyelashes, on your lips, on your cheeks– You dart your tongue out to taste him, and as you do the feeling of his lips follow. 

Frankie kisses you deeply, tongue swirling in your mouth and sucking yours between his lips. You openly moan into his mouth, your insides shivering with the memory of his cock. 

He pulls away and you feel him wipe away the cum from your face, when you finally open your eyes, he decorates your skin with fleeting soft kisses. Your lips part with a giggle. 

“You’re tickling me– Stop!” 

“Fine,” he grumbles, looking down at you. “You lost, you remember this month's bet right?” 

You roll your eyes but your lips give away your good mood. 

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be cooking for two weeks,” 

“I still think it would be fair if we made it a month,” 

“Nothing about this is fair, in which universe do you think that I could ever outrun you?” 

“Hey you were actually close this time,” 

“Yeah you allowed me,” you place a hand on his cheek, thumb drawing slow circles across his damp skin. “I’ve read history before you know, you’re acting like one of those monarchs that gives their people hope on purpose so they keep submitting,” 

“How about I tie one hand behind my back next time,” 

“That sounds intriguing but you have nothing to worry about Frankie,” you lift yourself up to kiss him. “I love doing this, I don’t ever want to stop,” 

“Hmm, I’m happy to hear that,” 

“The tying your hand thing sounds fun thought, if we do that I can consider doing the punishment for a month if I lose," 

“You got yourself a deal.” 

kinktober tags: @tusk89 , @amneris21 , @witchisenpai , @pedrito-friskito , @tom-whore-dleston , @lola766 , @batdarkladyvampir , @dindjarinswhore , @dnxgma , @eyelessfaces , @queenofthefaceless , @softtdaisy , @saintlike78 , @timpletance , @xdaddysprincessxx , @stardust-galaxies , @spacecowboyhotch, @queenofthecloudss , @prettyouttherethoughts , @reaperofmen , @partr1dge , @bbyanarchist , @alwaysdjarin , @thevoiceinyourheadx , @absurdthirst , @levi-llama , @damnyoupedro , @stardust-galaxies , @all-the-way-down-here , @welcometostayingawake, @bullet-prooflove , @rainbowcreepie

[loth-creatures]

last line tag

rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)

Tagged by @death-by-ladybug @hydroflxwers @mystical-salamander and maybe someone else I'm forgetting, but thank you all <3<3<3

More of the hot flaming mess that is the sabine side project bc I don't really have any art wips rn. Blorbification has been very detrimental to her health smh

She could see a little thanks to her helmet, but it didn't save her from stumbling as her foot skid on the slimy ground. She grunted in pain as her knees were skinned open on the cracked and gritty remnants of a duracrete flooring.

It was only then that she remembered her armor was still clutched to her chest and not clasped protectively over her joints. Sabine could hardly afford to stop moving, but carrying her armor made it a useless burden, and she needed to free her hands. She bit down on the agony in her fractured fingers as she fumbled with the straps binding it together. Her hands shook so badly that she kept dropping pieces and clasping them to her suit was a grueling process. It took far too long. She needed to move. The culvert was dark but there was nothing to duck behind if someone shone a light in. But now that she was on the ground, it was almost impossible to get back to her feet. She made it to one knee, before a horrific wave of nausea forced her to rip her helmet off and heave. She could feel herself getting weaker, caught herself thinking maybe this isn't such a bad place to rest

Free game for anyone who sees this!!

[bearmemesreviews]

Skylanders Review: Stealth Elf

Let's continue our adventure in Skylands with our first female Skylander, Stealth Elf!

Another body type you'll see often is...well, "girl". You'll see what amounts to a fairly humanoid woman whose main concept is "action girl" a lot, though they do at least experiment well when it comes to posing. The originator is Stealth Elf, who got ascended from Extra to main character in the tv show as the girl of the main trio. Though that's disingenuous, Stealth Elf is one of the "Elite" Skylanders, which means she gets a new figure almost every game.

Let's see what her deal is!

[Image: Stealth Elf is a humanoid...elf, with green skin and elongated pointy ears. All her clothing is made of brown leather, including her fingerless gloves, boots, leggings, skirt, V-neck crop-top, and Ninja-esque facemask. She has golden straps fastened around her gloves and boots. Her shoes have a cleft, indicating that she only has two toes on each foot. She has raspberry blue hair in a single long braid that reaches her lower back. Her eyes glow a solid vibrant blue with no visible irises or pupils.]

Stealth Elf is very clearly not my type of concept, as I never cared for Elves in most capacities played straightforward like she is. Though making her a ninja is a fun twist, and I remember liking her a lot in the Netflix show. There's this episode involving Ninjini (I'll get to her when we reach Giants) and Stelfy that I remember the most from the series.

She's a very simple design, and her face mask helps sell her ninja aspects while not putting her into a fully black ninja outfit. This however does not mean she doesn't get one down the line.

As Elves are natural beings who love and guard nature, Stealth on the shelf is our first Life Elemental Skylander. Life is also another Neutral type, for characters whose designs don't really read enough like the other elements, but also lacks the fantastical elements needed to be a Magic type. She was found as a young child in an old tree by a ninja master who was also one of the many sentient tree-people in the Skylands. Which is kind of like finding a baby primate nestled within the corpse of one of your distant cousins.

With no memory of where she came from, the orphan elf was raised with the art of ninjutsu TMNT style until her skills surpassed her master's, so she went off to Eon's place to learn how to improve her Element specific abilities and hopes to find out her true origins during her travels.

Not sure what else to talk about her, since she's a fairly solid design even if she doesn't really hit any marks that make me, personally, a fan of hers. I don't dock points if something doesn't satisfy my personal preferences.

Since I have nothing else to talk about, why not share these hard as hell images from a Skylanders spin-off game posted by @yourlocaltoad.

Motto: "Silent but Deadly" - Yes this is a fart joke, even though it doesn't fit but at least it works with her being a ninja. Bet they regret not saving this for the Ninja Skunk man they make later. 2/5.

Stealth Elf gets Three Chompies. Not my thing, but I can't fault her for that.

Stealth Elf unfortunately did not get a horrific Party City Halloween costume. SAD.

[shiveringgroovy]

more headcanon asks pt 2 out of ???

roadtrip au. who does the driving who does the navigation that kinda thing

can be ships, just favorites, idek

oh em goodness i have opinions. gonna alternate between bsd and tes

Fyozai (who else would i start with)

dazai canonically sucks at driving

and look at fyodor and tell me he knows how to operate a vehicle

certified public transport power couple. they are the worst i hope they die

i actually wrote a fic where they're on a subway for a little. fucking freaks

Sheskillmyna

haskill is always the designated driver. always.

relmyna drove once and it resulted in 3 civilian deaths

sheogorath sticks his head out the window and screams random shit at people

worst people to road trip with. haskill can't stop himself from stopping the car if either of his partners ask so they end up being at gas stations more than on the actual road. sheogorath is a devious freak for slurpees and needs a refill every hour

Siglai

sigma is probably a good driver, nikolai would be mediocre but gets HORRIFIC road rage

so sigma drives most often and nikolai is either sprawled out in the backseat or trying not to lose his shit in shotgun

they stop at everything on the way. sightseeing spots and supermarkets and everything in between. it's nikolai's fault.

sigma needs to take a xanax before getting in the car.

ALMSIVI

seht drives, ayem takes shotgun, vehk takes up the entire backseat

almalexia freaks sotha sil out. somebody save him.

vivec looks like she's meditating, he's actually just passed tf out

sotha sil points out every cool architecture thing he sees and almalexia punches him every time

Ranpoe + Yosano

ranpo also doesn't drive so yosano and poe alternate

ranpo also loves being in the back seat so if he's not driving, poe will act as a pillow for ranpo

yosano refuses to stop the car at gas stations. she fucking hates stopping and ranpo will start tweaking if he runs out of snacks

Cheydinhal Sanctuary + Janus Hassildor

minivan group..

ocheeva and teinaava are in the front, alternating who drives.

antionetta, gogron, and telaendril are in the middle row. gogron and telaendril are being a cringe couple and antionetta sticks her head out the window the entire time

in the back, m'raaj-dar has schemer in his lap and janus and vicente are also being all couple-y and cringe.

lucien's already at the destination.

TachiHiguGin

higuchi drives the best out of the three ngl

tachihara plays road trip games and does not fuck around about i spy.

i headcanon gin as semiverbal but they'll fucking GAG tachihara during some games

higuchi will constantly ask if they need to stop at every gas station because she's like that

Dawnstar Sanctuary

babette drives. no, i don't care that she has the body of a 10 year old. she's the best driver.

cicero is in the trunk. don't worry about him

nazir is in shotgun controlling the aux cord. ik he has the best music taste of all time. he's a metalhead trust me i asked him myself

the night mother is strapped to the top of the car like those ski holders

DOA5

sigma and fukuchi are in the front, alternating drivers

bram is tied to the back of fukuchi's seat like one of those ipads that little kids watch skibidi toilet on during long car rides

fyodor is said skibidi toilet kid

nikolai is in the trunk

NereVoryn

nerevar drives. voryn won't admit it but he fucking sucks at driving

there's really nothing chaotic about their road trips. very chill tbh

nerevar has probably backed up into a fire hydrant once or twice though.

[rjavenuru]

WIP GAME!

"black unicorn" has me very intruiged 👀

Black Unicorn is the story of Ardor de las Montañas, the... well... black unicorn. He is created by a necromancer from volcanic fire and the corpse of a white unicorn as a soulless harvester of life blood for the necromancers magic. One night the volcano erupts again and the necromancers magic and the horrific thunderstorm and molten rock create a magical explosions which awakens a soul in the created creature. Horrified by the memories of his deeds he breaks his reins and flees from the necromancer. For a long time he hides in a dark forest until one day he meets Pequeño, a mandrake in the shape of a child, a servant to a witch who was murdered. The created creatures without masters set out on a journey to avenge the murder of Pequeños creator and ward.

She had only gone a short way when she saw something in the faint light slipping between the trees. She saw the lower half of a face and slender fingers playing a wooden flute. A couple of intrepid sunbeams came hurtling through the thick canopy and bounced off a boot as polished as the kings crown. Something seemed strange to her but she couldn’t quite see through the trees. The flute player stopped and put the flute down. “I can see you, child,” he said with a deep voice. There was music in his voice as well which seemed to echo through the forest. The girl swallowed. “Will you eat me? Cause if you want to eat me I must warn you that I am poisonous. I’m not actually a child, I’m a mandrake.” The flute player laughed. “I have no interest in eating you, child.” The girl peered into the trees. Between them a small glade was being illuminated by the morning sun which made it harder for her to see him sitting on a fallen log where it was darker. “Why are you hiding in the dark? Are you scary?” She could just make out a grin. “What is a mandrake doing all alone in this big forest?” he asked back. “I asked you first,” the girl replied. “Fair enough,” the flute player said and jumped off the log. As he stepped into the light in the glade the girl let out a small gasp and shrunk back into the dark on her side of the pool of light. She realised quickly why it had been so hard to see him in the dark. All his clothes were black: his shiny boots with their pointy toes, his tight fitting pants, his sash tied into a knot at the back, his shirt with two pairs of cufflinks and his tunic. He had black hair sticking into the air like a mane, his eyebrows and long eyelashes were black and he had black paint around his white eyes like some kind of mountain savage. But the blackest of all was the horn in his forehead, sticking almost half a metre into the air. It looked like it was made out of melted black rock. It had a kink in the middle as if it had grown around something and there was a crack in the top of it. She thought she could see something red in the crack but she wasn’t sure. Of all this though what she found the strangest was that he was wearing what could only be described as a bridle with a metal ring around the base of his horn and straps going down across his nose and the back of his head. From two smaller rings on the side of his face hung two straps which looked like torn reins. “What are you?” she whispered. “I am a black unicorn. Ardor de las Montañas, at your service,” he said with a big smile and bowed. She thought she saw a flash of fangs. “You are scary,” she said. “Thank you.” “But you’re not black,” she continued. “Why are you a black unicorn?” He kneeled down in front of her. “What colour is this?” he asked and pointed at his horn. “Uh, black,” she replied. “There. Black horn, black unicorn. That’s all there is to it.”