#Or-- simple brain technician

[arctic-mizikio]

EGTR (Eight)

(Also known as probably one of the randomest crossovers I've ever drawn and put effort in)

#EGTR stands for Einfache Gehirn Techniken Replika #Or-- simple brain technician #Tfw you dream so hard it starts affecting reality so they call in the brain technician #The name might not make that much sense but it was the best me and my friend were able to come up with lmao #splatoon #signalis #signalis fanart #splatoon 3 #splatoon side order #side order #agent 8 #splatoon fanart #octoling #illustration #digital art #this is also one of my best drawings of 8 which like-- come oonnn

[vivid-ink]

Kinktober #1 - Handjob "Mission Accomplished"

fem!HumanReader x Neteyam or Lo'ak (you pick! 😉)

Summary: You've been asked to fill in for Norm on one of his Na'vi patient observations, except this isn't any old observation appointment... You need to collect a semen sample and the appointment doesn't go at all to professional plan...

Warnings: 🔞 Sexual content 18+, MDNI 🔞 Word count: 4.6k

Author's Note: Happy Kinktober everyone! 😁 I'm late with this prompt as it was completely unplanned. I got inspired late last night after posting Part 4 of 'The Love Shack' and this is what my brain spat out! As usual, my inability to write short drabbles means that what was meant to be a short, sweet kink-scene turned out to be 4.6k. I've not used any names in this piece, so you're free to imagine either Neteyam or Lo'ak as the male lead in this. Enjoy the spice ya'll!

Tagging some mooties who may be interested (no pressure though): @pandoraslxna @blue-slxt @adrianarose7 @vintaqestar @eyweveng @qcswrites @daeneeryss @oasiswithmyg @delacruzyari @teymars @neteluvr @sulieykte @teyamsatan

And OMG (I feel absolutely rotten for overlooking this until now) - Thank you to the incredible @cinetrix for her render of Neteyam which I've used in the story cover.

You swallowed tightly as Dr Blaise briefed you around the purpose of today’s observation and what was required of you. Your heart was galloping in your chest and you could feel yourself breaking out into a nervous sweat. It amazed you how unconcerned and unaffected she was about the whole thing.

“It’s a simple observation. We’re looking for any key physical differences in appearance, as well as any differences in physiological function.” Dr Blaise stated casually, “No swabs or bloods needed today. Just some notes, photos, and a semen sample. There are sample collection jars in the consultation bay already.”

A semen sample… Good Lord, she said that with all the nonchalance of someone asking for a saliva sample. Though you figured that’s what medical professionalism was all about, right? No awkwardness, no emotion, just plain science and fact.

When Dr Norm Spellman had said that he was writing a book about Pandoran Biology and Na’vi Physiology, you’d jumped at the opportunity to be involved. After all, Pandora was your home. It was the only home you’d ever known. As one of the only two human babies to be born on Pandora, you and Spider were the only generation of humans who’d never known the dying mother planet Earth.

Unlike Spider though who had taken to life on Pandora like a duckling to water, scaling trees, swinging from branches and pretty much adopting himself into the Omatikaya clan, you weren’t anywhere near as outgoing. You’d stuck to the medical labs and the avatar camp for majority of your life, rarely venturing out into the wilderness except to accompany the other scientists on their excursions. Perhaps the only similarity you shared with Spider was that you too were an orphan of war. Your parents had been on the frontlines of the battle between Toruk Makto and the RDA, and they’d met their maker on that fateful day.

You were just an intern currently, but the older staff and scientists were more than willing to teach you. Doing lab observations, drawing blood and other lab technician work was your job, so this morning’s appointment shouldn’t have been any different. And yet it was.

You’d never had to collect a semen sample before.

“Patient is a young unmated male, 23 years of age. Fit. Occupation is hunter-warrior. No pre-existing medical conditions and no recent injuries.” Dr Blaise rationally, handing you the clipboard and pen, “The patient has also been briefed about this appointment, so he knows what to expect and he’s aware he needs to produce a sample.”

“Right, understood.” You mumbled and the words were slightly hoarse. You cleared your throat, dislodging the sticky lump of uneasiness there.

Sensing your discomfort, Dr Blaise placed a heartening hand on your shoulder. Her eyes were kind and the crows’ feet at their corners crinkled as she smiled, “Look, the patient is friendly with the team, one of Jake Sully’s sons actually. So you needn’t worry about any hostility. You’ve done numerous observations and collected all sorts of samples. This is no different. It’s only awkward if you’re awkward. Besides, I’m sure you can understand why Dr Spellman didn’t want to conduct this particular observation himself, what with them being family friends and all.”

A giggle and snort left you at the humorous thought and you found you had to agree. Dr Blaise chuckled alongside you. It would definitely be ten times more awkward if the patient and medical professional were familiar with each other during this observation.

The fleeting moment of hilarity eased the nervous roil in your belly. Tucking your pen into the breast pocket of your lab coat, you took a deep breath and nodded, “Ok, I’ve got this. Thanks Dr Blaise.”

With two thumbs up and a wink, Dr Blaise turned and left you to depart down the corridor, her black pump heels clicking neatly across the hard floor.

Turning to the wall, you grabbed an exopack kit and hooked it to the leather belt around your hips. Tucking your hair behind your ears, you positioned the mask over your face and returned to the doorway that led into the consultation bay. The doorway was tall, much taller than you were used to. All the consultation bays were built big enough with high enough ceilings to accommodate the Na’vi and the avatars. While the main ventilation in the compound was suited to human lungs, the consultation bays were fitted with ventilation to suit their Pandoran patients. Scanning your ID card on the panel of blinking lights on your right, the door slid open with a hiss and you stepped into the bay.

The first thing that always hit you when you entered any of the consultation bays was the sterile scent of it. After a couple of years working here you’d think you’d have got used to it, but every single time the smell was like a synthetic slap to your senses. You wrinkled your nose in distaste. Everything smelled so chemical; too clean and too artificial. It was no wonder the Na’vi didn’t like being in here. If the smell was strong to your human nose, you could only imagine how much more potent it was to their heightened senses.

The second thing to hit you this morning was the sight of the magnificent creature that was standing in the corner of the bay, peering at the various medical models, instruments and books in the wall-mounted glass cabinet. He’d been facing away from you at first, but the sound of your footsteps had caught his attention and he turned to face you then.

A genial smile stretched across his face and he greeted you in a voice that was deep and warm, “Good morning, doctor.”

His use of English surprised you and while his words were accented, his pronunciation was clear. Go figure that Jake Sully would’ve taught his children to speak his mother tongue.

You gave a clumsy laugh and you were quick to correct your patient, “Oh, I’m not a doctor. I’m just an intern. I’m just filling in for Dr Spellman for this observation.”

Your patient grinned toothily at you and gave a nod of his head in acknowledgement, although his tone was teasing when he replied, “Alright Dr ‘Just-An-Intern’, where would you like me?”

You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up from your throat at his playful demeanour. You smiled at him. He was charming this one, handsome too. Like all Na’vi, he towered well above you in height at approximately nine and a half feet. Though you noted that he was very well-built. Courtesy of being a warrior, you supposed. Yes, he was muscular in all the places you appreciated in a male… You silently reprimanded yourself for your unprofessional thoughts.

“Just take a seat on that gurney for me.” You replied, gesturing towards the make-shift bed against the wall. Retrieving your pen, you began to scan through the notes at the top of the form on the clipboard, double-checking the patient’s details and ensuring everything on it was as it should be.

“Ah, do you want me to take my tewng (loincloth) off?”

Suddenly remembering the aim of the observation again, you felt hot blood rush to your cheeks and ears in embarrassment, “Umm, yes please.” And in a bid to stop your embarrassment running away with your courage, you launched into a rambling outline of the appointment agenda, “Today’s appointment is an observation around Na’vi male genitalia and sexual function. I’m going to need to make some notes and take some photographs of you, both in a r-relaxed and a-aroused state, and I’m going to need to collect a s-semen sample. If you feel uncomfortable at any point…”

He watched you attentively as you babbled onward, the smooth skin of your face and neck taking on a ruddy and flushed hue. He smiled to himself. You were shy and today’s agenda clearly made you uneasy. He felt a twinge of empathy for you. His father had told him that humans were private about matters of the body, especially where it came to sex and pleasure. The Na’vi held no such restraints; sexual freedom was celebrated.

He’d already removed his tewng and had perched himself on the gurney as instructed, unbothered and uncaring of his own nakedness. He was quietly enjoying your discomfort, but not in a rude or condescending manner. He actually found your unease rather endearing.

“Any questions?” Your prattling came to a finish and you took a deep inhale as if you’d squeezed every last ounce of oxygen out of your lungs rushing to finish your speech without taking another breath.

He graced you with another charming smile, “No. You may proceed.”

Willing yourself to get a grip, you walked on slightly shaky legs to the desk in the corner and plucked the glass tablet from its stand and returned to place it on the end of the gurney. You kept your eyes lowered to your clipboard, filling in the date and the time. You could see the striped cobalt of his muscular legs in your peripheral vision where he sat with his shins dangling off the gurney. For the meantime, you dared not glance any higher than his thighs…

Your eyes moved to a set of highlighted bullet points in the middle of the page that indicated questions the patient had to be asked.

You read the first question aloud, its meaning registering simultaneously in your brain as the words left your lips, “When was the last time you ejaculated?”

You fought the mortification that threatened to consume you and your mind struck up a chant of ‘stay professional, stay professional’ in your head.

“Yesterday morning.” His answer was composed.

“And was that with a partner or was it self-stimulated?” Fuck, maybe you should’ve read the questions before coming in for the observation…

“It was self-stimulated.”

“And do you have a preference for male partners, female partners, or both?”

“Female. Definitely female.”

His voice was a smooth, velvety rumble. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something in his tone stroked over you like an invisible caress that made something clench in your lower belly. You scribbled his answers on the page in a messy scrawl that had more to do with your nerves than your actual style of handwriting.

He continued to observe you as you worked. Your knuckles were pale where your left hand gripped hold of the clipboard and you were so focused, almost concentrating too hard on what you were writing. Nose twitching quietly, he parted his lips and scented the air around. The artificial smell of the bay was unpleasant, but a sweeter and much more appealing smell was filling the vicinity now. Your scent.

The blush on your skin remained and he was sure that if he reached out to touch you that your skin would be hot to the touch where your blood had rushed to the surface. He could smell hints of your perspiration and he could also detect a musky and moist feminine undertone. You were attracted to him… His masculine pride delighted in the realisation. Despite your human form, he found you attractive too.

Finishing up your notes, you settled the clipboard down on the gurney and mentally prepared yourself for the ‘looking’ part of the observation.

Eyes still glued to the brown leather of the gurney’s mattress, you declared your next action, “Alright, just stay relaxed for me with your thighs slightly parted. I’m going to begin the physical part of the observation now.”

“Sure.”

Your gaze travelled from the beautiful stripes on his outer thighs inward to the slightly paler blue of his inner thighs and finally, up to his groin. Suddenly, you didn’t understand why you were so nervous about this. He looked fairly… normal? Apart from the general larger size of everything and the blue hue of his skin, everything was as expected. Feeling a little braver now, you grabbed the glass tablet and took a couple of photos and then set it down to return to your clipboard.

“Is everything the same?” He asked out of the blue, “Same as with human males, I mean.”

You looked to his face instinctively and found his amber eyes trained on you, “Ah yes, more or less. Penis, foreskin, testes; everything expected is there and I haven’t noted any real differences in physiology apart from the lack of hair, but that’s consistent with the lack of body hair all Na’vi have apart from on your heads and tail tufts.”

Following the words down the clipboard sheet you came to a section that was titled ‘Texture and Sensitivity’. You paused. How the fuck were you supposed to assess those? The section didn’t have any required questions or sample questions to help you, and no suggestions either, just a space for you to jot down your notes. You looked from your patient’s body and then to his face, and when he gave you a small smile, your gaze shot back down to your clipboard sheet in embarrassment. Texture and sensitivity were tactile aspects. You didn’t really understand how you could assess them without touching the patient.

Evidently you were taking too long in your deliberation, because your patient’s voice sounded again with a gentle query, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, sorry. I’m just trying to work out how to assess the next bit.” You apologised sheepishly. You weren’t doing a very good job of appearing collected, you realised.

“What’s the next part?”

“Texture and sensitivity. So, what it feels like and which parts respond the most to touch.” You stated in as even a voice as possible. You huffed out a laugh then and shrugged, “It’s a tricky one because they’re tactile observations and I don’t know how to assess them when you can’t touch the patient.”

“Why can’t you touch the patient?” His response was clearly a surprise to you and he couldn’t suppress his grin as you goggled at him in shock, “You can touch me if it will enable you to do your job.”

You were almost about to say that you couldn’t possibly do that, but you stopped yourself. You were a med-science professional. The patient was consenting and your research required you to perform a physical examination. In a professional capacity, there was no reason you couldn’t touch the patient to achieve the intended outcome of the examination.

You remembered Dr Blaise’s words: It’s only awkward if you make it awkward. Fuck, you needed to swallow a bucket of concrete and toughen up. The sooner you completed this observation, the sooner you would be out of this uncomfortable situation.

Nodding resolutely, you agreed, “Alright, but you will guide me with your own hands. That way I can be assured that you’re only leading me where you’re comfortable to be examined.”

Your patient dipped his head in agreement, the tuft of his tail curling and uncurling charmingly on the gurney next to him. You set your clipboard down and moved to position yourself before him, standing between his knees. You lifted your eyes to his and they locked with his gentle gaze. Tentatively you offered him your hand and he took it, his large palm and long fingers engulfing it easily.

“So first up, texture?” He reminded, and you nodded.

Slowly, he brought your hand to his crotch and settled your hand over the shaft of his cock. It was very warm beneath your palm. Gently, your fingers tested the slightly springy flesh, noting how smooth and silken his skin was. At this closer proximity, you noticed that there was also spattering of bioluminescent freckles on the shaft. You made a mental note of that.

You touched the base of his cock, gingerly feeling around the length of it and you asked, “What’s the sensitivity like here?”

“I can feel it, but it’s not intense or anything. It’s more sensitive up here.” He guided your fingers nearer to the tip and you stifled a small gasp when he assisted you in pushing his foreskin back to reveal the smooth, dark purple head of his cock.

You’d never interacted with a naked man this close, human or Na’vi, and you certainly had never touched one in such an intimate place. Your body was starting to tingle in various places; in very unprofessional places. It was a surreal situation to be in and you found that you felt oddly calmer now than you were a few minutes ago.

Trailing the pads of your fingers over the smooth tip, you found it was moist and a little slippery. Your thumb tested the underside of it, “Sensation?”

A quiet hiss left him and you instinctively attempted to move your hand away, but his hold over your wrist kept it there, “That’s sensitive. That feels good.”

Your heart was still thumping and your cheeks were still warm, but it wasn’t nerves anymore that were causing your reaction. God, his skin was so soft and so warm… Your curiosity was growing now; your innate desire to explore taking hold of you.

You traced the raised rim of his cock head with your thumb and forefinger, watching as your patient emitted a rumbling groan. His hold on your wrist tightened and he began to move your hand over him. You intuitively wrapped your fingers around his cock. You felt entranced almost, caught up in the moment as you unwittingly began to enjoy the feel of him in your grasp.

The hot flesh in your hand was growing, elongating and engorging as the stimulation aroused him. You watched, amazed, as it swelled to its full capacity. The fingers and thumb of your hand could no longer meet each other. The girth of his cock was easily the same width as your forearm and by your approximations, it looked like it had also more than doubled in length from its relaxed state.

The erect shaft had lengthened out of his foreskin and it was a lovely shade of striated blue all over, except for a paler purple underside and head. In its aroused state, you discovered that while it shared structural similarities to a human male’s genitalia, it also possessed other aspects which were very different. The engorged shaft of his cock was ridged all along its length and as your hand smoothed up and down the column of it, you noted that the ridges were firm and palpable against your hand.

It was the most arousing thing you’d ever seen… Those ridges must feel so good inside for the woman…

You didn’t perceive his eyes on you, watching you as you explored his hard flesh. You were so engrossed that you didn’t even cotton on to the fact that he wasn’t even guiding your hand anymore. He could smell you, smell your arousal dampening between your thighs and the sight of your much smaller hand stroking and squeezing his cock was incredibly sexy.

You ran your enclosed hand in one full stroke from the base of cock and up to the head of it, fascinated by the ridged texture of it and the slippery, bulbous tip. However, your patient emitted a hissing intake of breath then and you jumped a little, snapping out of your thoughts.

“S-Sorry! Is that painful?” You stammered, shooting him a slightly apologetic frown.

He shook his head with a husky chuckle, “No, it’s just very sensitive. A lot more than earlier.”

“Where?” You asked, stroking him from tip to base and back up again.

“Everywhere. The ridges and the head especially.” His voice was notably breathier than before and his breaths were coming quicker, shallower and less even.

“That is fascinating.” You muttered, and your other hand joined in on your exploration. You fondled his balls lightly, observing the weightiness of them.

Your patient grunted and he parted his thighs a bit more. He leaned back to brace his weight on his palms behind him. He gave a small roll of his hips, which caused the top half of his cock to push and pull within your grasp. He moaned and the sound shot straight to the apex of your thighs. When you didn’t object, he continued the motion, thrusting lightly into your hands, both of which were now grasping his length one on top of the other.

Clear and viscous pre-ejaculate began to ooze from his tip, increasing in quantity with each roll of his hips. It was so copious that it was beginning to pool on the backs of your palms and drip down towards your wrist. Lord help you… there was nothing professional anymore about what you were doing… Not that your patient appeared to have any objections…

Still completely spellbound by the situation, your curiosity pushed a murmured query past your lips, “Is there always so much pre-ejaculate?”

“Depends. Generally the more aroused a man is, the more he produces.” He replied and when your bashful gaze lifted to meet his, he smirked wickedly.

You were such a pretty little thing to him, your smaller hands trying their best to keep hold of his slick cock. He knew that this was beyond the normal boundaries of the appointment. He knew that while you would’ve been required to touch him to examine him, stroking him off was probably not anywhere on the agenda. He suspected he was supposed to produce the sample on his own, but looking at you now, so enraptured by his body… How could he have resisted? And besides, he knew you were enjoying this as much as he was, your scent told him so.

You tightened your hold on his cock experimentally, squeezing harder. Each time the swollen head of his cock pushed out of your hands to greet you, you swiped your thumb over the oozing slit on its tip. He was panting heavily now, his impressive abdominals bunching and flexing as he continued to thrust his thick cock through your hold. The bioluminescent freckles that dotted his shaft were glimmering brightly and you never thought you’d ever use the word ‘beautiful’ to describe genitalia, but his cock was gorgeous.

All of him was gorgeous, truth be told…

You were attracted to Na’vi men. Ever since you were old enough to notice the opposite sex, you’d been drawn to male Na’vi. After all, you’d grown up on this moon, inhabited by and surrounded by tall, beautiful Na’vi. The humans who surrounded you at the compound and the camp were your family, and they were all much older. There were no men of your own species to look at or be attracted to. Spider was the only one of your generation and he was like your annoying, gross brother. Your attraction to Na’vi men had been an inevitable result really.

So now as you stood in the consultation bay, between the knees of this striking and aroused Na’vi male while he pumped his cock in and out of your hands, you’d never felt more validated and aroused in your life.

Your patient’s fingers were digging into the squeaky brown leather of the gurney now, straining slightly as his hips continued their onslaught. Your hands and wrists were completely drenched, soaking in his thick pre-cum. The slippery mess caused his cock to squelch obscenely as it slipped through your hold. The whole situation was so sensually explicit and you were never more thankful in your life than you were now that there were no CCTV cameras installed in the consultation bays.

You’d be expelled from your chosen profession for patient abuse… Though by the half-lidded, slack-jawed expression of pleasure on his face, he didn’t look much like he was being unwillingly abused…

A string of Na’vi curses left him then, followed by several panted moans. He abruptly pushed off his palms to sit upright and he stuttered, “W-Where is the container?”

A little stunned by his sudden and urgent tone, you stumbled in your own response, “The w-what? Oh, the sample jar?”

Panting heavily through parted lips, he nodded at you and you pointed to the desk on his left. You saw his gaze follow your eyeline and when he caught sight of the plastic collection jars that sat patiently waiting, he let out a hearty guffaw.

He reached for one and deftly flicked the already loosened lid from its mouth, still chuckling away between his huffing breaths, “It’s so small. You ready, doc?”

“For what?” You asked, realising only as the words left you what a dumb response it was as he handed the sample jar to you.

Your patient smiled at you and it was a salacious leer, all narrowed eyes and pointed canines showing, “You’re about to get your sample.”

One of his hands returned to guide yours, wrapping around your one remaining hand where it encircled his stiff cock. The pace of this rocking thrusts increased and he began to exhale with throaty moans that you swore made your own feminine core throb with desire. Gingerly, you held the collection jar up to him, being extra careful not to drop it.

With two more lurching breaths, his abdominal muscles contracted and his back bowed inward, his entire torso going rigid. You felt his cock harden impossibly before it pulsed and the breath he was holding left him in a coarse growl while his face twisted into an almost pained expression. His cock pulsed again and the first spurt of ejaculate missed the sample jar entirely, landing with a warm splat in the middle of your chest where the frills of your blue blouse peeked out from behind your lab coat. Quickly, his free hand grabbed hold of yours to position the jar better, while his other hand attempted to position his cock so he could shoot straight into it.

He was absolutely breathtaking in the midst of his orgasm. The luminous freckles on his face were twinkling and the striped cobalt skin of his neck and chest was glossy with a sheen of sweat. His cock continued to throb and pulse, emitting rope after rope of thick cum that splattered untidily over the mouth and sides of the sample jar.

You could see why he’d laughed at the size of it. There was no way the small jar could have held the full volume of what he was producing.

Coming down now off the high of his climax, your patient slouched against the wall behind the gurney, breathing hard. He caught your eye and he grinned indolently at you.

The adrenalin and heightened arousal in the atmosphere was fading rapidly now, and cold, hard reality was slowly returning to you. You looked at the pearlescent contents of the sample jar, which was still decently full despite majority of the sample not making it in there. You smiled to yourself.

Mission accomplished and what an exciting mission it was…

Carefully setting the jar down on the flat worktop of the metal sink next to you, you replaced the lid on it with sticky fingers and made a note to thoroughly wipe the jar down later before handing it to the lab techs.

Returning your attention to your patient, you smiled at him, suddenly shy again, “Thank you for your co-operation today. I’ll leave you to clean and freshen up. You can see yourself out after.”

His answering laugh was husky and he dipped his head at you, “I should be thanking you for your co-operation I think, doc.”

“Not a doc, remember?” You grinned at him and you were about to turn on heel to depart into the adjacent washroom when you heard him call out to you again.

“Hey Not-A-Doc, if you ever need another sample, I’m happy to provide another one, whether for med-science research or your own personal research.”

A girlish giggle left you and you felt your face flame again. You shook your head, making your way into the washroom to clean yourself up. He was a naughty one that one…

#lo'ak smut #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak sully #avatar neteyam #atwow neteyam #neteyam sully #atwow #avatar james cameron #avatar the way of water #avatar movie #neteyam x you #lo'ak x you #neteyam avatar #neteyam fic #lo'ak fic #lo'ak fanfiction #neteyam fanfiction #lunaskinktober2023

[barefoothighlander]

deluminate

summary: kylo ren stops at nothing to capture his target

kylo ren x fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), unprotected pinv, slight hunter/prey, force bondage, choking, dub con, mind reading?, creampie, idk how the force works, kidnapping?

a/n: having kylo ren brain rot so i needed to write this, i want to hear nothing about realism none of this makes sense, not proofread

Where are you.

His voice rings clear and heavy in your head, a tidal wave through the hazy ocean that was your mind, fogged and weary from his preferred methods of interrogation.

It was purely chance that you had gotten out, a fluke in timing on the account of the troopers that usually haunted your room, one small mixup in shift change and you were left unguarded for invaluable seconds.

You had no idea where you were going, simply letting your legs carry you on their own accord, twisting down hallways and turning the sharp corners of the black metal walls that made up the labyrinth of his ship.

It felt like weeks you had been locked in that room, the days fading into eachother as he searched your mind for any piece of information that could help him, reaching deep into your thoughts and fears, urging you to give up the location of the map.

Truth be told you were the last person he should’ve been asking, a minor ship technician that aided the rebellion with not the slightest inclination as to where the forces were keeping such a lucrative item.

I will find you.

The husk of his voice vibrates in you as fear sweeps your nerves, even if you did somehow outrun him, there was nowhere to go, you had no idea of the ship had landed somewhere or if it was simply tumbling through hyperspace, an eerie quiet settled in the air of the halls, only broken by the sudden hissing of pipes or clanging of armour as patrols made their way.

It didn’t make sense, how he was able to see into your mind, control your body the way he did, a simple twitch of his finger and your limbs were frozen, a nudge of his chin and he could see into your darkest thoughts, the most private and secret, held deep in your psyche for only you to see.

Why run? Come back to me and I’ll give you what you want.

A taunt, emphasized by the honey dripping from his tongue, even through the mask you can hear it. There was no trying to hide behind it, he saw right through you, that obscure primal attraction you held for him, the longing to see him beneath the cloak and mask, to feel that power on other parts of your body.

He was using it against you, like somehow he course sense the throb between your legs as his voice spoke to you, the heat that pooled as he used only his mind to restrain your body.

Sweat beaded your skin, falling in drops down your spine as you rest against a wall, legs screaming in pain, how far had you ran? There was no way to tell if you’d even gotten far, every hallway turning into another, every corner identical.

The conversation of troopers has you holding your breath, careful to keep quiet as they pass by, praying to the maker they were truly as stupid as people made them out to be.

You’re near, I can feel you.

Clasping your hand over your mouth and breathing through your nose, you turn a quick glance around the corner, no sight of the massive cloaked figure, there was no way he knew where you were, he couldn’t.

Down the hall you can see a pair of doors, if you could get in you could lock them, you’d worked on ships similar, nothing this large and nothing from the new empire but they had to have similar wiring.

You will your aching limbs to carry you the few feet toward them, slamming a palm to the panel, a whimper escaping your lips as the screen flashes red.

You drive your fist against the metal doors, willing them to open, to let you in but they don’t budge, a deferred breath falls as you rest your head against it, the cold bite of them cooling your skin.

It’s a gasp of shock that falls from your lips as the doors part, cool air rushing against your skin, how did they-

“There you are pet”

Fear strikes through your body like lightning, this time his voice sounded to close, the crackle of the mask like sparks in your ears. His presence is heavy enough that it sucks the air from your chest, a tear falling from your eye as you slump your shoulders, refusing to turn and face him.

He places a firm hand to your back, walking you forward into the room as the doors close behind you, the tell tale sound of a lock snapping into place as your legs give out, knees buckling sending you toward the hard ground.

You can hear the echo of his steps as he paces the room, damn him if he wanted to read your mind, there were no thoughts to be seen.

“It was a good effort”

Invisible arms will your body up, weak legs trying to regain balance as he emerges in front of you, dwarfing your figure.

His form sucks the life from the room, forcing you backward till your spine connects with the wall, harsh steel biting into your skin as he braces an arm beside your head.

“Are you ready to give me up?”

You shake your head, eyes refusing to look up at him,

“You know I can take whatever I want”

His gloved hand presses to your throat, holding you to the wall as an unseen force binds your hands above your head, leaving you at his will.

“Is this not what you wanted? I’ve heard every thought you’ve had, they’re very loud”

You squeeze your eyes shut at the words, your throat bobbing under his grip.

“I’ve seen what you dream of, how you want to be touched by me, it’s.. obscene, the way you offer yourself up on a platter”

There’s nothing you can do, he has you at his will, a simple prayer to the maker that he’d atleast bestow some form of mercy upon you.

“Do you want to see what I think about?”

His voice is gruff, laced with threat as his fingers squeeze your pulse point.

“Open your eyes”

You obey, parting your wet lashes to look at him, staring deep into the black visor as he watches you, you struggle in his grip as the force on your hands tightens.

He reaches his free hand to his neck, a hissing sound filling the air as the chin of the mask parts, the black helmet rising on his form to reveal his face.

Every sense in your body betrays you at the sight of him, obsidian hair that curls around his pale face, his cheeks flush from the exertion of power as plush lips and dark eyes stare back at you.

He closes his eyes, tilting his chin toward you as he wills his thoughts to yours, flooding your mind with images.

He too had thought about you, your naked body in front of him, legs parted and sex on display as you writhe against the sheets, the tip of his nose nudging against your swollen bud as he feasts on you.

The image sense shockwaves to your core, heat pooling as he continues to show you yourself, bent over a table, your ass arched in the air for him as his cock drives deep into you, practically forcing the air from your lungs with every thrust.

It’s too much, the visions, it feels too real, your skin flushing as he pulls back, his dark gaze glued to you.

“Do you see pet, what you do to me, why I could never let you run away”

He releases one of your hands, gripping your wrist as he drags it to his groin, forcing your digits to cup his length as he grunts. Even through the thick cloth of his pants you can feel his size, massive and pulsing, like pure iron in your weak grip.

You part your lips in shock as he grinds his hips into your palm, his hand on your throat tensing.

“Don’t shy away now, not when you’re so close to getting what you want”

Another grind of his hips has your fingers squeezing his bulge, a primal grin forming on his lips as he ducks his head next to yours.

“That’s it, give yourself over”

His breath ghosts over your ear, tingling the hair on your neck as his teeth dig into your earlobe, nipping at the skin.

His fingers creep over your stomach, inching down toward the pulse that’s settled between your thighs, strong hands tugging at your bottoms as the skin of your ass is revealed, the cool air hitting it.

He cups your sex with his palm, grinding the leather of his glove against your aching bud, cheeks heating as the sound of your slick fills the room.

“So wet for me already”

His words give rise to a tinge of embarrassment in your face as you roll your hips into his hand, searching for the contact against your clit as his cock strains against his pants.

“M’gonna drive my cock so deep into you, there won’t be any thoughts for me to read”

The threat has your core aching, clenching around nothing as he rips his hand from you, the black fabric of his gloves glistening in your slick as he raises a hand.

His free hand moves to loosen his pants, biting back a groan as his cock springs free from the fabric, keeping his eyes on yours as he fists it, the harsh rub of his glove rough against the skin of his shaft.

“Open your mouth”

You move to reach a hand for him but it’s pulls to the wall with that same invisible force, keeping you flat to the metal as it digs into your spine.

“I said open”

You obey, parting your lips slightly to allow his fingers to tease around the flesh, pushing past your teeth to flatten against your tongue.

Swirling the muscle around the digits, the bitter taste of leather mixed with the sweetness of your own slick dripping down your throat as he forces the fingers deeper.

He teases the head of his cock through your folds forcing your eyes shut as you hum around his fingers.

“You’re gonna take every last inch, and you’re gonna keep your eyes on me”

Parting your lids in a haze your teeth dig into his fingers as he pushes in, one swift motion has his cock stuffing you full, forcing your cunt to adapt to the stretch of him.

The angle has him dipping below you, forcing his cock upward as he thrusts, the head of it grinding against that sweet spot into you as it drags against your soaked walls.

“That’s it, eyes on me pet”

His fingers tilt your chin to face him, eyes clouded in lust as you watch him bite back his grunts. His hand grips at your thighs, tugging them around his waist as he lifts you higher against the wall, length driving into you, forcing your body to collide with the hard metal behind you with every thrust.

“Wanted this since I first saw you”

The words come through gritted teeth, your eyes drifting to where the two of you meet, his hand withdrawals from your mouth allowing you to suck in a breath before it makes contact with your throat, pinning your neck to the wall.

“I said eyes on me”

It’s a struggle to even keep them open as his cock splits you in half, feeling impossibly full from him, the base of his length grinding against your clot with every stroke.

Your legs lock around his back, holding him to you as you roll your hips into him, meeting every thrust. A grin plasters his face at the sight, using his hand to tear at your shirt, the lose fabric falling around you as your breasts are revealed, nipples peaked from the cold air.

Like a beast to its prey he eyes your form, bound and free for his taking, he leans down, his teeth closing around a nipple eliciting a yelp from you as he nips at the skin, flicking his tongue over it.

“So good for me, letting me take you however I want”

Heat rises in your chest, it was true, he could have you, the sight of him alone that first day had your thoughts betraying you, his form oozing power and command.

You snap from your thoughts as an unseen pressure hits your clit, rubbing against the bud in a perfect pressure that has your back arching against the wall, pushing your breasts further into him.

It’s obscene the noises the flood the room, the sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the wracked moans that escape you, he peers down, his jaw slack at the sight of your pussy swallowing him whole with every thrust.

“Never gonna let you go pet, you’ll stay here with me, as my little play thing”

The words sting your chest, the thought of remaining captive to the man who could invade your very soul, but the feeling of his cock driving into you is too tempting, feels to good, the pleasure blooming from your core has you nodding”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, letting me stuff this little pussy everynight, getting used by me, fucking slut”

That invisible hand flicks against your clit as his cock drives deep into your walls, your legs tightening around him as your push squeezes him, keeping him inside you, letting your orgasm rip through your bones.

As your high lowers you open your eyes, straight to his gaze, his hair sticking to his forehead in a sheen of sweat as the slightest pink tints his cheeks, his cock sliding into your drenched walls.

In a second he slams his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you, hard enough that the grind of your back against the wall was sure to leave you sore.

His hand meets the flesh of your ass, squeezing the muscle with force as he holds your body to him, allowing his cock impossibly deep as he buries it inside you, his hips staggering with each thrust.

“Say you’re mine, fuck, say it”

He leans his head back, lowering it to your shoulder as his teeth dig into the flesh, tears pricking your eyes as your muscles scream.

“I’m yours”

The words trigger something in him, a growl from his chest vibrates against your skin as he spills inside you, the warmth spreading in your core as he moves his coco slowly inside you, shallow thrusts to force his cum deeper.

He holds your body to him, the force on your hands gone, allowing the now sleeping muscles to drop to his shoulders, your fingers splayed over the rough fabric of his cape as his breaths ghost over your skin.

“You’re mine”

The haze of it wares on you, your mind weakened from the combination of everything as your body fights to regain its strength, held up only by his body.

Slowly he pulls his cock from you, allowing his spend to drop down your thighs as his hands keep you still. His eyes glued to yours as he watches you wince from the loss of contact, a hand settling on your cheek, the leather dragging against the thin layer of sweat on the flesh.

He bites back the words in his throat as he closes his eyes, his fingers flexing against your skin as your mind goes blank.

You wake in a dark room, legs bare against the black sheets that have settled atop them, your chest covered only by the large cloth of a shirt, you can feel the soreness from earlier already settling into your body as you sit up, trying to look around.

There’s a stream of starts outside the large window, the only light in the room as you squint to see, it was some sort of bedroom, the furniture below you soft and cushioned, you were in a bed.

Turning to your left you can see the light shine on his pale skin, the expanse of his back visible, alongside the pink pines of scars the adorned it, his dark hair blending into the sheets as his body rised slightly with every breath.

You were in his bedroom, his private quarters, in his bed, shock hits you all at once, every nerve in your body telling you that you shouldn’t be there, but he had brought you there, changed your clothes as set you beside him in bed.

He had stripped off his cloak and leathers, tucked away the facade of Kylo Ren and went to bed, beside you.

Running a soft hand over the curve of his spine you feel him twitch, his breath remaining slow, he was still asleep, he didn’t look like that large beast that invaded your thoughts like this, he was softer, calmer.

The sheets are soft as you slip back below them, turning to your side to face him, watching his skin flow under the streaming stars as your eye slide grow heavier, drawing you back into sleep.

#kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #star wars fan fiction #kylo ren smut #ben solo #ben solo fanfic

[frogchiro]

what would the shadows and 141 do when barracks bunnies graves and reader are away on a mission or somewhere else :(( not able to take out their frustration on the two

They are fucking awful and miserable :(( They are literally like beasts in heat, all angry and agitated, testosterone pumping though their veins, all tense and generally not really pleasant to be around. Sometimes they are really simple beings, thinking with their cocks and groaning at the painful, too full sensation in their balls and all they need is a soft warm hole to dump all their cum into :(

So imagine the utter whiplash both 141 and Shadow Company got when they found out that both you and Philip had to go on a very very delicate intel gathering mission that only really required two capable technicians/hackers.

They literally are going insane!! Ghost and Price are much more irritable than usual, quarreling with each other on small things, Soap is much more gruff and snippy too which in turn makes Kyle so much more sarcastic; the remaining Shadows aren't in better shape, arguing with each other, making snide remarks and being merciless during training.

At some point they all literally gather in the specific room where you and Phil usually take them and jerk off angrily and some even try to hump each other but its no use :(( due to being all pent up and brains cloded witb testosterone they start to insult and make snide remarks about the sizes of other soldiers, and eventually they come to the conclusion that they need your warm and slick holes to shoot their loads into, so they walk out of the room even more angry and frustrated and literally pray for the day of your return💔

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #hacker girl!reader #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #john price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #philip graves x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #graves x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #shadow company x reader

[kiaxet]

Sooooo y’all see the latest @somerandomdudelmao comic update? Because once again it is living in my head, which means once again my brain has generated fic. This one’s ~1200 words and slightly less tragic, depending on whether or not you take dramatic irony into account.

~~~~~~~

It starts fairly innocuously.

One of the surviving technicians monitors a computer as it finally, finally boots up successfully, whooping when the Genius Tech loading screen pops up. He grins and pats the power cable. "Thanks, Raph!"

It catches on.

A water purifier, disconnected to save a struggling power supply, gets plugged back in. It chugs back to life, and the kids responsible for its upkeep cheer and high five. One of them waves at the ceiling, where a power conduit runs overhead. "Thanks, Mister Raph!"

And it spreads like wildfire.

Every time something works the way it's supposed to - every time a much-needed device pops back to life, or the emergency doors close correctly, or a dying lightbulb flickers on one more time - they thank Raph. In gleeful shouts and careful whispers, they show gratitude for the person who gave up his life - and his second chance at life, at that - to keep them safe. It makes the emergency base, ramshackle and barely held together as it is, feel a little more like a home. A little more alive.

It doesn't take long for a few unspoken rules to develop.

They never say it in front of the metal shell. It's one thing to say it to the walls, the cables, the electricity; it's something else to say it to a figure with a face, seated against the wall like a sentinel that will awaken and protect them when danger arises.

(Nevermind that they've been in danger, constant and unending, for decades, and that this sentinel is already protecting them in smaller, everyday ways.)

They learn very quickly never to say it in front of Raph's surviving family, either. Master Leonardo gets angry when he hears it. It's an anger born of grief and loss, painful but not dangerous to allies, but given how terrifying Master Leonardo can be on the battlefield or a bad day, nobody really wants that anger directed at them. Master Michaelangelo just stops when he hears it, lips curling up in an expression too devoid of life to truly be called a smile. It's almost worse to witness than Master Leonardo's anger. No, they learn to watch themselves in front of the family, carefully taking their gratitude towards a dead man elsewhere.

Until the day someone forgets and says it in front of Casey Junior.

The kid looks up at Roger with wide, almost hopeful eyes. "Why did you- is he here? Can you feel him?"

Roger stares back at him with equally wide eyes. He'd just been grateful the computer had booted correctly for his monitor shift, and he hadn't been looking, and now he has to try to explain this to a kid who's never known a life outside the apocalypse. Oh boy. "No, uh- I mean- I don't have magic like your dads do, Casey, I couldn't-" He sighs. "It's just...a thing people do, when things work. Before the Krang, we had all sorts of machines that made life easier, and...we'd talk to 'em. Thank 'em when they worked, yell or beg when they didn't...I remember threatening a fax machine once, not that that made any difference. I think that just...kinda carried over here." Wait. "Not that your uncle was a machine or anything-"

"His body was a machine," Casey says simply, with a pragmatism that Roger hadn't been expecting. Apocalypse-raised kid. Right. "That wasn't what made him Uncle Raph. He was- it's-" Casey falters, expression starting to crumble. Pragmatism be damned, the kid is still grieving-

Rem, just coming off her shift, steps in smoothly. It's not the first time she's saved Roger's ass, both on and off the battlefield, and it won't be the last. "We know," she says gently, putting an arm around Casey's shoulders. "What Roger means is that we're grateful he's keeping us going, and that people like to bond with machines even when they're too simple to bond back. We all used to name our cars - can you believe it?"

"I named mine Red Rider," Roger says wistfully. He still misses that car.

"And I used to sneak out of the Hidden City with my cloaking brooch and go joyriding outside of human cities," Rem says, a grin splitting her feline muzzle. "I named every car I stole Phantom, like I thought I was cool."

Casey smiles - small and watery, but there nonetheless - and Roger breathes a sigh of relief. "What else did you name?"

"I mean, it was mostly cars, but some people named their computers."

"I had a friend who named her phone and just kept adding numbers when she had to replace it. It was Duchess O'Brien the eighth last I'd heard."

"I know some Yokai named their weapons, but I never really kept track of those. It was more of a Battle Nexus fandom thing."

Another Yokai leans in - a four eyed lizard whose name Roger could never remember no matter how hard he tried - and Roger shuts up. She's in charge of security now, and honestly she intimidates him. She looks around - at him, at Rem, at Casey - and then intones seriously, "I once named a kitchen appliance Toasty McToastFace."

There's a beat of silence. Casey has a lopsided grin growing on his face, like he doesn't get the joke but he knows it is one, and that's enough to lift his mood.

And then Rem doubles over, cracking up, and Bob smiles carefully. "Really loved that toaster, huh?"

"It was my closest friend," the lizard Yokai replies, deadpan as hell, before leaving the conversation.

Casey turns that confused grin on Roger. "Was she serious?"

"Kid, I have no idea. Some people are just really into this kinda thing."

Rem finally straightens up, wiping a tear from her eye with a paw. "Ohhhh boy. Oh, I needed that." She turns her smile back on Casey. "Point being, naming something makes it a little more real, and makes you a little more likely to take care of it. The system here...already has a name. We're just saying thank you, you know?"

The grin on Casey's face settles down into consideration. "Yeah, I think I do. I- Thanks. I'm gonna-" He waves at the door to finish his sentence.

"Go for it, kid." Roger waves him off as he departs, then sighs once he's gone. "God, that kid is just hemmhorraging family, isn't he."

"We all are, Roger, it's the fucking apocalypse." Rem flicks an ear.

"Yeah, but still. It's rough." There's a second or two of silence. "Also, if he says it in front of Master Leonardo, I'm denying all knowledge of this conversation."

"Spirits, same."

Roger learns a few days later - from Rem, of course - that Casey has named his chainsaw hockey stick Killer, because it's what his mom used to call him. Well damn, if kids like him are gonna be the future, then maybe they have some hope after all. He raps on a wall lightly, just below where the power conduit is mounted. "I know you didn't have a lot of time with the kid, but you did a good job." He can't help but smile. "Thanks, Raph."

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt casey jr #rottmnt raphael #if you squint #cass apocalyptic series #somerandomdudelmao #writing #fic #no gods no betas we die like RAPH APPARENTLY GOOD GODDAMN #I've been in IT for a decade #and there's something to be said for the human propensity to name machines #and other objects of personal value and use #and talk to them like they're capable of listening and responding #no way that died in the apocalypse #I have never named my phone #all of my computers have been named after musical terms #and my cars have been Chupathingy and Puma respectively #because some fandoms never fucking die #there's another story here I didn't write #about how some places seem to develop a personality and a presence all on their own #and how this makeshift base is literally powered by someone else's life #and in a world of magic and monsters #how does that affect things if it does at all? #is it a haunting or a mystic residue or simply something that has power in the minds and hearts of its occupants? #I love this shit #by the way #Duchess O'Brien is not a reference #Red Rider definitely is though it's not referencing what you think #Toasty McToastFace is the obvious one

[yourdakg]

Donation Found!

Remember Ryder? The SoCal pretty boy who was depressed that his life was a vapid, superficial, and party focused existence? He contacted Turnaround Technologies to ask, nay plead for a new body and a new life. See his Donation Request Form.

If only it were that simple. Turnaround Technologies utilizes some of the most advanced science on the market. When a body is fully adjusted, it's a slow and sometimes torturous process! If it was as simple as switching brains, that would be one thing. But the subjects have to physically transform into one another, and then brainwaves are overwritten. Chemistry, genetics, biology, and psychology are all involved in this elaborate process.

So Ryder had to come up with the $325,000 fee. Luckily, he had money saved and he was able to sell off the red Mustang convertible and his yellow Yamaha Sport Bike to meet the target. The final straw was giving up the deed to his WeHo apartment. Don't tell him, but his donor bought the items! Isn't that funny? He covered the rest with personal loans! Well, a little bit of debt won't hurt.

Let's remind you of where Ryder is starting his journey:

And now let's the see information plate for his donor. I think he'll be very pleased! After this, he'll never have to worry about being surrounded by vapid, beautiful people and fending off pesky pool party invites! Yes, this is the ideal swap partner for Ryder.

Meet Dr. Pervus Fondler. And wouldn't you know it? Dr. Fondler was a doctor in Ryder's hometown! They actually know each other. The good doctor cares very deeply for Ryder and was pained when he heard about his current circumstances. He decided that his job as a physician meant he had to step up and give the ultimate sacrifice! You know what they say: First Do No Harm.

Donor Statement: While I am nervous about the process, I am confident that I will give Ryder a new future, one where he won't have to worry about all that vanity and his gym obsession. True freedom for the boy!

Thank you, doctor, for going the extra mile for your patients. Turnaround Technologies will prepare the Exchange Chambers. Both subjects will be stripped down and cleansed before being placed in metallic, moisture wicking bikinis while our technicians prepare for the process:

Now that Ryder is dressed and the drugs are injected into his system, it's time to introduce him to his generous benefactor. I hope he has a positive reaction to the kind of man he will become. Let's check in!

Patient Statement: No! Holy shit! No, not Pervus the Perv! You can't put me in that. Don't force me into that body! I'd be going from a perfect ten to a zero. Please! No... LET GO. Please, oh my God. No, I thought it would be another buff guy like me. I change my mind, I changed my mi--**UMPH HRRMPH**

It's not clear why Ryder objected so strongly to his partner. Maybe it was the shock of knowing who the doctor was from earlier in his life. At any rate, he paid the fee and signed the paperwork so there is, quite literally, no going back. Swaps of this nature are once in a lifetime and, of course, quite permanent.

Subject had to be forcibly gagged and sedated.

Add another $125,000 for the service. Ryder sure is going to pay a lot of money for his new life!

When he came to in the chamber, Ryder was pounding on the door. I think he was crying. His oversize genitalia were mashed against the glass in his silver pouch. It was quite the sight. When the whirr of the machine began and the paralyzing blue light hit, his eyes went crossed. He fell backwards and pumped his hips in the air. Well, the erection is to be expected. I've heard the process somewhat erotic, though painful.

It takes a couple days and the exchange unstable during that time, but I am happy to report the following:

Donor Report: I feel good. Very good. I'm probably going to move to SoCal, sort of take over Ryder's apartment. I'll probably start using his name now too. Don't wanna confuse people. I don't even have my old, perverted urges. I hope he's comfortable with the mental traits foisted on him. Oh... he wants to take picture of me? Ha, okay. I'll flex for $100. Recipient Report: What do you mean I can't go back *whimper* why do I feel so strange. I'm already out of breath. Give it back! What do you mean a name change is included in the package *sob* MY NAME IS PERVUS NOW??!?! Oh. I have to take his medical practice in my shithole hometown? Oh God! I just... oh goodness, seeing it from this angle it's such a fine body. So tight and firm! At least flex for me, my boy? A little. So I can snap a few pics and... use them later. Eehehe. Oh God, what have I become?

#body swap #male body swap #male transformation #muscle theft #mind swap #body switch #permanent #young to old #old to young

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

more gym buddies shenanigans pretty please? like I had this thought where she casually drops in a convo with Jason, "what would your reaction be if I told you I wanted a clit piercing?" Jokingly

But like... not jokingly

Warnings: fluff, 4am writing so I'm half asleep

"Two, one," you pretend to help Jason place the weight bar back on the shelf as he finishes his set, "getting a little slow there."

"Am not," he sits up, nearly collecting his head on the bar, "I just don't want to pull my shoulder again. What are you doing anyway? Just standing over me pretending to pay attention?"

"Mostly," you shrug, "I like watching your veins pop the further you go." And boyo boy was it a sight, usually around the tenth rep they all seem to pop out at once, his hands gripping so tight that you can see all the veins in his strong arms.

"Is that what you like?" He moves heading towards the pull-up bars as you follow behind him.

"Yeah, I'm a simple girl with simple tastes. I see a vein, I wanna lick it."

'You're a deviant." He shakes his head at you, gesturing for you to jump up on the bar, "you know what I like?"

"What's that?" You ask as you begin to pull your chin up over the bar.

"Watcing this pretty ass move up and down in front of me." He slaps you, almost making you lose your grip.

"Hey!" You shout, "do you want me to fall?"

"I wouldn't mind catching you."

"Just be quiet while I finish please."

You complete your set, Jasons hands hovering just over your hips while he helps you to count out your reps.

"I got you, drop down." As you let go of the bar his arms wrap around your middle and his lips finds yours.

"Jay"

"Sweetheart"

"Wanna come with me to get my clit pierced tomorrow?"

His brain looks like its exploded as he tries to comprehend what you just asked him.

"The technician said I could have a support person and I'm not sure how good I'm going to be able to walk after."

"Yeah, I can come with you."

"You can put me down."

"I don't think I can," he starts to walk towards the back of the gym, "I think I need to carry you until we get to the change room."

"Why?"

"Because," he leans down kissing into the sweat of your neck, "as soon as I put you down I'm going to fuck the shit outa you."

#jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #jason todd #x reader #jason todd fanfic #reader x red hood #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #gym buddies #gym buddies request

[sigynpenniman]

Something that frustrates me about a lot of open-source advocacy is that it often refuses to engage with the needs of the real & professional worlds & the fact that not everyone is a computer wizard, and that even the “easy to use” open source softwares like Ubuntu and LibreOffice are often significantly more difficult and confusing to use than their paid alternatives. I’m reminded of when @hylianengineer posted something about wanting to be a Linux person and just not being able to. I appreciate hating Microsoft and their ethics and data theivery and prices, but the reality is that even Ubuntu is massively confusing and difficult to use for a large percentage of people, especially if they’re not computer savvy or are moderately computer savvy, but only inasmuch as they know where the buttons are in windows to do what they want. The space between “only wants to browse the internet” and “person who knows how to code” (two classes of people who can use Linux perfectly for their needs) is huge and unfortunately contains 90% of people. I am an IT technician with half a decade of professional experience and another half decade of personal submergence in computers in general. I am perfectly comfortable in the command line and I understand computers better than people. I find every Linux distro I’ve ever tried to use, even the “use friendly” ones, to be absolutely impenetrable. The simplest of tasks are easy - the internet works great. The most complex of tasks are easy - and sometimes only possible in Linux. I have an Ubuntu VM specifically for mass downloading from the Internet archive. The moderate tasks, like installing software, are often infuriatingly difficult, largely due Linux’s tendency to product the nightmarish Cascading Dependency Error, in which you try to sudo-apt-get something and end up getting an error about a missing dependency, trying to install which gets you another error about a missing dependency, and before you know it you’re 15 minutes deep in a “simple” software install.

This is just not gonna work for most people.

This also ignores the fact that if you use any professional software for your job, like Photoshop, Word, etc, you need it to work, and often “Just use LibreOffice” isn’t the answer. If everyone you work with uses PowerPoint, you can’t necessarily afford to risk that LibreOffice is interpreting and displaying things differently than power point is going to when you send the file to your CoWorkers.

Open source software is great, but it just does not work for a lot of people and in a lot of contexts, and smugly replying “Well you should just use LibreOffice” to posts complaining about the price and problems with the Office suite is just not helpful.

And if you’re going to comment on this post and call me stupid or say all of this is made up, I need you to understand something, and I say this with love: if Linux and its surrounding software is easy for you, it is not because it is actually easy. It is because you are good at computers and have a brain that finds that sort of thing easy to parse. It’s not that it’s easy to use, it’s that you’ve become so accustomed to using it that you have, without realizing, become unable to accurately project yourself into the experience of someone who doesn’t have that skill. Being Good At Computers has a way of very silently and slowly making you literally unable to accurately imagine the perspective of people who aren’t - I know this, because I have this problem.

I don’t know where I’m going with this, beyond just - as a literal computer person, I’m growing tired of the call to “Just Go Open Source” as a solution to problems with first party software. It really only works in specific places, and for specific people, and people who don’t fit into that narrow window have the right to complain about those things because they don’t have a lot of good alternatives

[on-the-shoulders-of-rootstock]

BETWEEN AFFINI: MECHANISMS OF COMMUNICATION AND VIOLENCE

Historically, the Affini language has been a rich adaptive mixture of chemical secretions, infrasound vibrations, foliage displays, and occasional intergrafting. It has evolved over time to meet the Affini's needs, as all languages do, and in the modern day also makes use of audible vocalisations in the 800Hz-7kHz range (depending on which alien species they are communicating with).

This reflects an Affini's inherent capabilities, and does not include the vast array of accessibility devices and translation software that the Affini have built for themselves. For every alien culture that did not communicate in a way that came easily to the Affini, a wave of enterprising technicians have put together all manner of novel gadgets designed to facilitate clean communication. Many are simple handheld devices designed to listen for key phrases or smell for key pheromones, but more complex devices can be grafted by an Affini for a more intuitive interface.

"Intergrafting" is a form of highly intimate/invasive co-mingling of Affini bodies where one or more participants graft themselves into each other, forming a direct biological and neurological bridge between participants. This is an exhausting process, and risks injury to participants if their cells involuntarily reject a perceived attack by the other(s), but allows for comprehensive biological and psychological sharing between Affini who approach intergrafting with care and patience.

This process has also been a historical means of violence between Affini, though it is unheard of for modern-day interpersonal conflict to reach this point. Hostile intergrafting is one of the Affini's few taboos, and is considered a desperate tool of last resort. A fight between intergrafted Affini is almost always fatal, as each party begins to invasively grow into the other until one or both suffers traumatic brain death. Many historical tragedies written by pre-industrial Affini societies used intergraft violence as a metaphor for the futility of revenge.

#hdg #human domestication guide

[bleedingintogold]

Leader woke up to a constant beep at his side, adding to the headache forming from too bright lights over his head. The first thing he registers is the familar scratchy blanket of the medical bay as he sits himself up. His head throbs as he tries to recall what got him here. The bandages around his skull not doing much to remind him.

He hears the voice of his superior outside the bay door, along with the thump of boots on tile. The man himself enters, two medical staff at his heels with clipboards.

"General, Leader has not woken up yet. He suffered head trauma and is still being monitored-"

"Look, the fucker is already awake! Leave so I can talk to him. That's an order!" He barked before his eyes landed on Leader. Leader felt his breath get stuck in his throat as General walked right to his bed. He couldn't even get a salutation out before he was dragged out of the bed by the back of his medical gown.

"General!" the medical officer attempted to get Leader away from him, catching the injured man before he hit the ground.

"I ordered you to go on a simple mission, in and out. At most, it was a mid-tier mission any of the lower ranked squadrons could have completed. So tell me, Leader. How did you fuck this up? How did you get a whole squadron sacrificed?"

"What?" Leader croaked, still winded from being yanked out of bed so suddenly. This did nothing but anger the General more. His brain was desperately trying to process his superior's words but he kept drawing blanks.

"You don't remember what you've done, Leader? I'll fucking show you,"

General pulled Leader in front of a curtain which had shielded the view of two other beds. The motion left Leader dizzy and the medical officer protesting angrily to leave their patient alone. He yanked the curtain to show him two members of Leader's squadron of six, Medic and Second-in-Command. Both of them were terribly injured, Medic with what looked like pressure bandages on most of his torso and a breathing tube down his throat. General harshly pulled Leader to Second-in-Command, forcing him to look at her with his hand tight around the back of Leader's neck. Second was awake but could only spare Leader a small glance before she drifted back off. She wasn't much better off than Medic, one leg in a thick cast and the other seemed to be missing under her blanket.

"Take a good look at them, Leader. Take a good look at the men you failed," Leader started to remember how Second-in-Command had pushed him out of the way of falling rubble and how Medic had warned him that the place was too dangerous.

"Leader, we can't proceed with this mission. The stakes are too high. This won't be worth it,"

"We'll be fine. Just keep your head in the game, Medic,"

But this was only two of them. Where were the other three?

"Wh-where..."

"The rest of your men, Leader? Come with me, and I'll show you,"

"General, please! Leader can hardly stand properly!" one of the senior doctors was here now, attempting to loosen the grip on Leader's gown.

"Yeah? Well he's much better off than his men now isn't he?" General manhandled guided Leader out of the main bay, towards a different one. The younger man clutched at the collar of his hospital gown to prevent it from choking him as it pulled on his neck. Leader's heart sunk when he realized which bay they were heading to. The one bay where patients who entered only exited to be buried.

"No," Leader said under his breath. His bare feet suddenly felt terribly cold on the tile.

He had gotten them killed?

General pushed his way through the medical staff who were putting the bodies in body bags. Leader looked down at them, Technician and...Youngest? Youngest didn't have a face anymore. He must have been shot directly at point blank range. The only thing that Leader could identify him with was the tattoo on his arm. A tattoo he had helped Youngest design just a month prior. He had been so proud of it, showing it off during training to the rest of the squadron. Technician's lower and upper body was seperated, held close by supports but not together. Leader felt sick.

"You see that, Leader? You see what you've done to my men? The fifth one was taken. Not only did you put your team out of commission, you also managed to get one of them snatched under your watch,"

General finally let go of Leader's neck, causing him to fall limply to his knees. He yanked Leader's head up to face him by a hand fisted in the younger man's hair.

Leader didn't hear the words General said to him, his vision blurring as voices and noise became muffled. He didn't react when a knuckle connected with his jaw and the voices around him became panicked and frantic.

"I'm sending you back to re-training tommorow, Leader. Maybe you can still be useful as a lesson to the others,"

It didn't matter what they did to him now. As far as Leader knows, he died with his squadron.

-----

Was inspired by a scene in The Bravest on Netflix where the captain was grabbed by the neck by another and forcibly dragged to look at some of the injured men.

#leader whumpee #leader whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump tropes #whump ideas #whump writing #tw death #tw implied torture #team dynamics

[canpokemonwritebooks]

meowth

Can Meowth write books?

Yes, with a 68 on the Pokémon writing scale.

Note: This post is for classic Kanto Meowth. Alolan, Galarian, and Team Rocket Meowth will (probably) be reviewed in other posts, possibly with a post concluding Meowth as a whole.

Is this Pokémon physically capable of writing?

Yes. Meowth is surprisingly humanoid and has the right angles and posture to write but it would still have a hard time grasping a pen in its paws. It could dip its claws in ink, though it would probably be a pretty unpleasant sensation. 

8/10

Does this Pokémon know what a book is?

Yes. Meowth is a popular house or classroom Pokémon in many regions and children especially love Meowth. Meowth spends a lot of time around humans, and therefore has a lot of exposure to books.

10/10

Can this Pokémon read?

Probably not. None of Meowth’s behavior is very humanoid and it is a very instinctual Pokémon. It likely doesn’t have an interest in learning to read and may not be fully aware of what reading is.

2/10

Would this Pokémon have access to the materials needed to write a book?

Yes. Meowth has the Pickup ability, making it perfect for gathering items. It also lives close to humans and therefore would be able to obtain the needed items from them.

10/10

Does this Pokémon have enough basic education to write well?

Maybe. Meowth’s Technician ability implies that some are more intelligent than one would assume. Additionally, Meowth spends a lot of time around humans and may pick up some of the lessons nearby children are learning. The question is more about how well Meowth’s brain is geared to learning human skills and utilizing them. A Meowth with the Technician ability may be more likely to do so but it is a bit of a stretch.

7/10

Would this Pokémon be good at writing?

Maybe. Meowth will fully commit to whatever holds its focus but it is easily distracted by things it likes more. Specifically, Meowth will obsess over shiny things and round objects. If it can keep that type of focus on writing, it would be a powerhouse writer. But, the greater likelihood is that it would get distracted before it began.

5/10

Does this Pokémon have anything to write about?

Meowth doesn’t have a lifestyle typical of the Pokémon. Some Meowth are house Pokémon, some are schoolchildren’s companions, some are early team members of new trainers, some just spend their lives running around the roadside, some fight alongside grunts in evil teams, some live on city streets, some end up abandoned in Pokémon shelters. A particularly adventurous Meowth would likely have many stories to tell, but many also lead uneventful lives.

8/10

Would this Pokémon be able to get their writing into a book?

Maybe. Meowth physically could with some effort and, if it was close to a human, it may be able to communicate its desire to do so. Meowth doesn’t have any skills that make it stand out here though.

6/10

Would this Pokémon want to write a book?

Probably not. Meowth are usually very content in their lives and get a lot of happiness from simple things, like coins. It doesn’t need something like books or writing to fulfill itself.

2/10

Does this Pokémon have any other redeeming qualities?

Meowth are most active at night and many writers do their best work at night. Additionally, Team Rocket has a Meowth that is capable of human speech but this isn’t necessarily reflective of the species. Team Rocket’s Meowth’s abilities show what Pokémon are capable of if they push themselves.

10/10

Results

Yes, Meowth can write books with a 68 on the Pokémon writing scale. It also gets a Dunsparce point because Meowth is probably seen doing a lot of things in the anime that could be used to write a book but I do not remember. It gets a second Dunsprace point because this is the 69th Pokémon being reviewed.

#meowth #team rocket #team rocket meowth #kanto #pokemon #kanto pokemon #pokemon analysis #normal pokemon #video games

[lavenoon]

Ahhh, I keep thinking of Double rejection Hatchling Robin and while I was doing the dishes my brain made a scenario in which after a while Dawn and Dusk have been visiting the lab where they now work way more often (which isn't necessarily often, excuses to do so would probably be pretty sparse, but for the top agents it's unusually often enough), so Sun is waiting in the outer room (or maybe even just outside) and overhears one of the technicians asking Robin how in the world they managed to befriend the grumpiest agents, and at first Robin wants to make a joke about being able to engineer situations to their liking, but then they pause, remembering the words that affected them so much in Dawn's initial snap, and with a sigh Robin responds they aren't friends really. Just understanding how to work better with each other is all.

The post in question, because it's been a couple days!

Below this are 2251 words. Enjoy <3

"which isn't necessarily often" - true, but I've decided Eclipse gets to indirectly save the day once again. Dawn already mentioned him, and saw that Robin recognizes the name, so the boys just. Start showing up at the lab, sneakily hidden away blueprints and flimsy excuses as they ask "Hey, Horizon sent us this, but it's uhhh not making sense to us and we wondered if you maybe knew?" or simple little repairs that they used to do at home they now specifically request Robin to do because "they're the only one we trust to put in the effort we expect"

This all of course after Dusk had his moment of apology, too - he stays on lookout, checking the lab for a day or two before he catches Robin on shift, asking them to talk. They're much more apprehensive, even after Dawn's apology, due to him being the "final nail" in their little coffin for their joy, and being asked by the star agent you know as grouchy at best to go somewhere more private to talk?

But they do take their break then, wary as they are, and Dusk ushers them not to a completely secluded place, but rather... The lobby, with just a few chairs and worn couches serving as a communal space, vending machines for drinks and snacks not too far away either. It's empty around this time of night though, so perfect, actually. There's multiple break areas like this on the different floors, and Robin wonders if he chose the one with the most escape routes on purpose. For whose comfort they aren't quite sure, because Dusk doesn't look particularly happy about the situation either

There's one or two agents passing through the entrance doors and startling at the sight of lab tech who looks supremely uncomfortable and star agent with a metaphorical storm cloud over his head, seated on a small couch together, and Robin almost considers fleeing the awkwardness. But then...

"Did it heal alright?"

"... I'm not an invalid. I stopped field work because I'm obviously not suited for it."

It's quite unfair that he looks so pained, so genuine when they're the one who had their excitement crushed.

"You are, though. I - I was scared, I let you get hurt, and instead of just being angry at myself I took that out on you. Dawn told me, about the lights. I'm sorry I didn't notice, I'm sorry you got hurt because of me, and I'm sorry I said things that aren't even true in the heat of the moment."

It's a lot. A lot he feels sorry for, but Robin is stuck on one thing.

"You're not taking the credit for my stab wound."

"What?"

"You're not taking credit for my stab wound. You were half the room away, and busy with your own fight."

Dusk is kind of - almost offended, really? He's trying to apologize, and they tell him he shouldn't?

"I told myself I'd watch out for you -"

"Which one is it, then?"

Still angry, Robin interrupts him. He falls silent, because he sees there's more to the superficial anger. They expect an answer he doesn't know how to give, because he doesn't understand the question. Robin elaborates without prompting, after waiting in vain for a few heavy moments.

"Which one is it. Am I actually a decent field agent, or am I the idiot who needs a babysitter?"

Oh. Oh.

That's an easy one, then.

"You're a good field agent who I didn't want to see hurt."

Robin looks away then, ducking their head, and it's also then that Dusk realizes that like this, he can actually see their whole face. He decides he likes that, even if the reason isn't ideal.

But one step at a time - and this was the first. After that the boys start showing up under the pretense of above mentioned scenarios, and Robin does humor them. They don't ask why the boys seem so insistent on making amends, their confidence still just barely existent.

It's after leaving from one of those impromptu visits that another lab tech asks Robin in a hushed voice about their peculiar friendships with the grumpy star agents - most field agents don't even wanna work with them, so how did they get so close?

Robin first cracks a smile, a spark of their old enthusiasm breaking through, but then it falls.

"We're, uh, not friends. I don't think - I mean, I'm barely - I don't know. They did make the 'not friends' part clear though."

However, dear Dawn was still on his way out - and it seems that both that lab tech and Robin either forgot or weren't aware that they're equipped with sensors for auditory input more sensitive than human ears. He clicks the door shut softly, hopefully not alerting the two inside, and leaves for his office.

Not that he gets any paperwork done. Instead, he keeps thinking about what Robin said, and wonders just why it bothers him so much. Objectively, he wasn't wrong back then, even if it was harsher than necessary and irrelevant to the conversation. They're secret agents, they shouldn't be friends, even the continued visits are already toeing the line of what is appropriate and what isn't. It makes him think just why they stick to the rules so much.

"That's lonely."

It is.

He goes home, and shoots Eclipse a text, too - something harmless, but brotherly snarky, like "Hope you didn't set the lab on fire today. Wait, amendment. Hope you didn't set the lab on fire too often today." (Eclipse, far away, is certainly surprised, and maybe confused - but he jumps on the chance to make fun of his brother right back. Not too much though, just in case. It's rare enough that one of them is the one to initiate a conversation.)

With the next switch, Sun asks Moon point blank - are they trying to befriend Robin? Moon, confused, forever soft, replies with "Aren't we already friends?"

Leads to a very awkward moment when Sun has to explain that welllll, he might have made things even harder for the two of them. He only escapes Moon's throttling on account of sharing a body.

But they hatch a plan, and promptly set it into motion.

The next time Dusk catches Robin, he asks them, obviously enough to earn him a curious look but innocent enough to get an honest reply, "Would you like to work in the field again?"

"I don't know. I guess? Maybe some day again? Pretty sure the higher ups are already getting annoyed by me, anyway - shouldn't draw even more negative attention by asking to switch again."

Dusk just hums, eyes narrowing just slightly at their back at the rather unfortunate discrepancy between reality and their perception. If their plan didn't cover it, he would address it right then and there.

Like this, he redirects back towards their current work with a smooth "Testing these out in the field is quite fun, I think you should try it some time." He gets a full happy infodump on the newest gadget they're working on, and he's glad that their spark is growing again. Both Sun and him will do their best to keep it that way.

Following that, they both start namedropping Robin in reports, slyly suggesting their ideas are inspired by first hand field experience, and the "perhaps they should earn more" is strongly implied.

Dawn in particular, still the more talkative of the two, lets their name slip a few times when directly talking to a supervisor, often in the same "breath" as complaining about there not being anyone who gets his method ("well, except Robin. They at least could keep up - too bad they switched to the labs.")

All the while the two continue their visits, subtly building up their confidence again and laying the groundwork for an actual friendship. They'll need to ask, but they want to have the "gift" ready for that.

The supervisors do catch on. Robin gets a private summon (and shakes like a leaf the entire way to their specific supervisor's office, only to freeze at there being two supervisors - hello again, Agent River). They don't suffer for long - the offer is direct. There's been interest in switching them back over to field work, back under River's supervision and specifically to work in partner missions with Dusk and Dawn. They could work solo missions or stay in the lab during the time between those, a dual domain focus isn't unheard of.

Robin, overwhelmed, asks for some time to think - and gets a night to sleep on it. They return to their shift, and have a couple hours to collect themself before Dawn stops by, later in the afternoon. He doesn't know about the offer rattling in their brain, and is thoroughly confused (and worried about) the contemplative look they regard him with while obviously zoning out. When he snaps them out of it, they turn their back to him, and he's just a tad jittery at the thought that they purposefully hide their expression from him. They do sound awfully neutral.

"Got the offer to switch back to field work again earlier."

"Oh?"

"Yup."

"Do you... want to take it?"

"Specifically. To work with Dusk and you. You wouldn't happen to have something to do with that?"

Ah, so the supervisors already snitched. He stops fidgeting then, shoulders dropping to a more comfortable level as he grins.

"We only did what we consider 'giving credit where credit is due'. Whatever the supervisors happened to do with that information is out of our hands."

They glare at him then, but there's not as much fire in it as when he first saw them again, far from it.

"Why?"

"Because you're a good agent, and we want to be friends."

Hello, number one thing Robin did not expect to hear today!

They start spluttering, very close to a cartoonish double take.

"But - you said -"

Dawn is still a peacock, and can fake confidence like a pro.

"Well, I think I should be allowed to change my mind. Are you seriously going to hold me to something I said months ago, when I was an idiot?"

That gets them. They blink, and then just start laughing, clinging to the lab counter just a little to steady themself.

"You're still an idiot. Did you seriously set this up just to ask me to be friends?"

Dawn's reply is sober, matter of factly.

"Well, no. We also genuinely miss working with you, because friends or not, you are the only one capable of understanding our method and keeping up with us."

That sobers them up, too. They study him for a moment, but there's nothing in his expression hinting towards any doubt. This confidence isn't faked.

Robin does choose a dual focus. They love seeing room for improvement right in the field, and then getting to work on said improvement themself.

The three grow pretty comfortable with each other, the boys even willing to talk about bits and pieces of their personal life. Mostly Eclipse, really, still addressing him as Horizon though. They did (and do) make an effort to initiate conversations more with their brother, so they have a lot of shenanigans to share. Eclipse knows about Robin, too, and often enough teases his brothers for their thinly veiled crush. Sun and Moon do deny it, but well...

One day, after one complaint over the boys' current landlord too many, Robin jokingly offers that they just move in with them, but gets a genuine "yes" back. Do shrug the surprise off though to confirm, because why not, actually? ... Though wouldn't the higher ups mind?

So they stage an accidental reveal for Sun and Y/N at a specific store's ~special~ sale they both were interested in. They're very apologetic when immediately admitting that to Agent River, and she isn't paid enough to care that much so she lets it slide.

She definitely isn't paid enough to call them out on the change of address just a few short weeks later, and so she looks away. They're already a well-oiled team by then, Robin despite their limited exposure in the field soon joining Dusk and Dawn in reputation.

They all feel very clever when they enjoy their new domestic life together, seamlessly slotting into something more than just neighbors, because they're already friends. They're in each other's places constantly, and none of them would ever think of complaining. The boys worked very hard to get where they are, and know very well to cherish that after their rocky starts.

(They're the timeline that at some point has one of them just look at the other, somehow entangled in the most natural cuddle, doing something entirely normal for them, and ask "Hey, are we a couple? Is this a couple thing? Because I wouldn't mind if it's a couple thing. Would love that, actually. But also no hard feelings if not." and get a very blunt "Oh no yea I'd love that too." back. Third party gets updated during the next switch, and is also horribly blasé about it. Not much changes, except maybe a few more kisses. They were definitely already besties who nuzzle <3

#answer let luce #chaotikanvas #accidentally undercover #au alt timeline #hatchling au #I had to stop there sorry if it seems abrupt I was just. This already is out of control FHDJSK #takes three days to answer and then it's just the most boring confession scene ever FGDHSJ #but it's okay I promise it's worth it <3 #yeets this into the wild

[theothergueck]

alr im gonna finally do the lore about these costumes i made for my friends but ill first get into what they are as a whole

These guys are basically forms some players decided to take for fun, these players can shapeshift into whatever they want so they can add changes to this form whenever they want

They have certain things in their appearance that also describes them as a person, depicting the things they like or dislike in the form of accessories, body deformities, etc

Also since they are players they are gonna have powers, Heres a main list of their starter pack, some other abilities can be removed or added if you want

Flight, mind control(whether it be in the form of hypnosis, brain chips, parasites, etc) possession, enhanced durability, strength, and speed((which can be upgraded))

Most of these players work for a factory that helps reproduce starter forms for upcoming players, some players work on their own while others work in groups, each group gaining their own office to share in the large factory, this factory also produces a life source for these new players by making fictional characters suffer and extracting 'plot' from them(which can produce a drug similar to steroids for players) here is a list of the main group roles

Patrol/security guard(since the factory is similar to a large prison)

mechanics/engineers(r they the same thing btw pls tell me)

Technicians

Navigators

Pilots

Surgeons/doctors

Blacksmiths/gunsmiths(or just forger)

Marksmen/assasins

(and many more)

Some cant take the bloodshed and do more simple work like feeding the players with 'content' (or regular food) or help give the more hostile workers mental ground by giving them free therapy!! :D (this is still a work in progress so i might add more)

These guys are silly but also very violent with characters that try to escape or whichever character have to capture

These players can also gain stackable stats by certain emotions they feel, like for example parasite, whos skin becomes more durable to certain weaponry depending on how much fear they feel

And also the hostile forms, which makes them much stronger than their original form, so much so that it would be impossible for a reality bending character to defeat them and stuff(cuz u know, players, but u can change this!!)

I think there was more i wanted to add but i forgot it, so take this lanky paragraph, i might give some fun facts about parasite(my costume/player) later

(@keyelan @iamindebt thanks for the motivation i might add you to this)

#Player stuff #Very silly

[esters-notepad]

One thing I like about using Johnny Cash songs for inspiration: it gives me an excuse to dig deep into very American cliches. Like this story. Communist infiltrations? Secret military bases? Brainwashed soldiers, thinking themselves patriotic, but only awaiting the right key word to start furthering the Red agenda? Yes, it's really cheesy. But it was fun to write!

Day nine @chrumblr-whumblr: mind control

Johnny Cash song: 25 minutes to go

Warning. 25 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

What? What did I...? Did I do that?

Warning. 24 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

My hands... they still look like my hands. Why did I turn the key for the self-destruct?

Warning. 23 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

Edwards is shaking my shoulder: "What the hell, Harvey? What was that?" I just shake my head, but my brain doesn't clear. "Come on, Harvey, turn it off!" Edwards shouts. Of course. Turn it off. How simple. Why didn't I think of that? Turn it off. Turn the key back. Why aren't my hands moving?

Warning. 22 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

Edwards swears loudly and pushes me away. Then, suddenly, a loud bang. Edwards lies on the floor in a growing puddle of blood. Carter has drawn his pistol. Carter shot Edwards? Why?

Warning. 21 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

Nothing makes sense any more. The control room is so empty. Where is everyone? Where is Captain Miller? Lieutenant Robertson? Where's the Colonel? Somebody come and save me! I... I don't think I can save myself. And it's definitely too late for Edwards.

Warning. 20 minutes until self-destruct. The self-destruct process can no longer be aborted. Please evacuate.

Somebody is coming down the corridor. Two technicians. Jordan and Brown. Carter shoots at them, and they shoot back. I should shoot Carter in the back, now that he's facing away from me. I should... Damn, my hands won't move again. What is wrong with me? And where is everybody? Out to lunch, or what?

Warning. 19 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

Jordan and Brown have fallen and aren't getting up. Carter holsters his pistol again and strolls towards me. "Well done, Comrade Harvey", he says. I'm not a Red! I... "Maybe I should introduce myself," Carter continues. " Major Mikhail Ivanovich Kartashov, of the GRU. Thank you for your assistance. I could not have done this alone. As a token of my government's gratitude, I won't shoot you." He whips a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and chains me to a pipe by the wall. "I'll even leave you the choice whether you shoot yourself, or wait for the base to explode." That's right. My pistol is still in its holster. I should draw it. I should shoot Carter. Kartashov. I should shoot him. Why don't I?

Warning. 18 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

I can't shoot him. I can't strike him. I can't even spit in his face. I curse him internally. He stands up and says: "I believe it's time to evacuate. Farewell, Comrade Harvey. You were the best candidate I ever worked with." Candidate? I've been brainwashed? That... that would explain things. That would explain a lot. Maybe everything. Carter...shov is gone. I need to get out, as well. I have to warn them that he isn't Michael Carter from Iowa, but Mikhail Kartashov from the USSR. I have to get my hand loose.

Warning. 13 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

It's hopeless. The pipe won't budge. I can't break the handcuffs. Maybe if I shoot my hand off... but no, I'd bleed out before I even got close to the evacuation shaft. I'm trapped down here. Can I pray, or did those damn Reds take that away from me, too? Dear Jesus, help! Please catch Kartashov. Please let him die when the base explodes, or let the others figure out he's an impostor, or something. Please don't let him hurt this country further.

Warning. 12 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

Please forgive me for what I've done. I didn't mean to... no, sorry. Help me take responsibility. My hands turned the key. Forgive me. Please take care of my wife after I'm gone. God, I'm cold! I don't really want to die. Please help me to meet death as a man.

Warning. 11 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

I wonder when the Reds got to me. I wasn't even in Korea. Did they... do they have brainwashing facilities here? In America? God help us! I never thought they could have infiltrated us that far. It's chilling to think of.

Warning. 10 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

This base is probably not the only one. This might be the start of a bigger offensive. Maybe even the start of World War Three. Everything going according to their plan, just like it did here. And I can't do anything about it. Jesus! You have to help us. Please stop those godless Communists from taking over the world!

Warning. 9 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

I have to get out of here. I have to warn them. About Kartashov. About all the rest. Somebody let me out! If I could at least reach the telephone... Maybe I could drag it closer, somehow? I have to get the word out!

Warning. 8 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

I can't. There's no way. Forget about it. It's hopeless. I guess the Reds win this round.

Warning. 5 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

As if anybody could get out of here in five minutes... Alice, my dear. I'm so sorry to leave you like this.

Warning. 4 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

I have to get out! Cut me loose! Damn handcuffs! Damn pipe! Damn that Kartashov!

Warning. 3 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

I'll never see Alice's face again. Or the sky. Or the mountains. I'll die down here. It's really happening. I'll be dead soon.

Warning. 2 minutes until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

I guess it's for the best. I did betray the whole base, after all. Even if I'd somehow gotten out, they would have condemned me to death for what I did.

Warning. 1 minute until self-destruct. Please evacuate.

I wonder if I'll see the explosion coming, like in the movies? Or if it just... ends? I wish things had been different. Jesus, forgive me. Jesus, help me. Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy

#tw swearing #tw death #chrumblr-whumblr #mind control #25 minutes to go #ester writes

[zenkaiankokuart]

POV: It’s your first day as a technician at Fazbear’s and you’ve already fucked up.

xD So this is... Zen. Based off my Minecraft OC’s this time! She’s terrified of heights and jumpscares! She’s not actually scared of Moon though.

Her job is to do the small and/or simple animatronic repairs that don’t require a trip down to Parts and Service. Although as she will soon find out, most of her job involves repairing the Daycare Attendant, who refuses to go down to Parts and Services.

At this point Solar Lunacy lives rent free in my brain and @bamsara‘s Sun and Moon designs have become my default. I also listened to the same Sun and Moon song on repeat for like 12 hours as I made this. xD It’s called “Lights On” by Kyle Allen Music for anyone curious. It’s insanely catchy.

#sun and moon #solar lunacy #givin credit where credit is due #i've like absorbed bam's designs and personalities for these two #also that song is a fucking banger #i might as well live in the daycare at this point #i dont think sun would mind #zenkai ankoku #OC #this is why this zen can't be y/n from SL though she's too much of a crybaby like me xD #fnaf #fnaf security breach #sundrop #moondrop

[scooperkin]

What do you like most about FNaF SL? (I noticed that you are really a Sister Location fan and I have to admit this game is awesome)

I don’t really know specifics… I just really like the atmosphere and characters and designs. It’s so simple but fills the brain with thoughts.

I’ve always liked the characters in fnaf. I’d been around since the first game came out but the SL bots really stuck out to me most. I lost track of fnaf stuff around the third game, and only came back into it after SL was out for maybe a year (and happened to be right before Pizzeria Sim came out).

So something about the Funtimes tickles my brain enough to really get into fnaf. Maybe because they were kind of the first to really have personalities and voices?

I love Circus Baby she is such a cool villain. She is big and scary and cute. She’s big!! I love that she’s giant and is called baby. Wish that were me (my nickname is baby but everyone calls me that cause I’m petite and have baby face with a voice often mistake for a 12 year old. So you can imagine how aspirational Baby is to me).

I love that the characters are so colorful compared to the traditional characters. Really makes it feels apart but still attached. Like Funtime Freddy is so bright and pretty but you appreciate it more looking at hood ol Freddy Fazbear. Who also looks so nice and calm compared to his weird nephew. Can’t appreciate one design without having witnessed the other I feel like.

There’s always a bit of vagueness when it comes to fnaf, this included; but I love the idea that the Funtimes are sentient, and don’t like their treatment nor do they like killing kids (it’s vague if they did other than Baby that one time tho. Technicians and guards don’t count. They don’t care those guys are hurting them after all ;) ) They just wanted to be free and frolic through flowers. Maybe eat a flower.

And Ennard!! So cool… The name, the plan, the body horror. The four (maybe more) robots in a trench coat. The design that perfectly mixes creepy and cute. The idea of them trying to figure out how spoons and ordering their own pizza works. They had Michael run around shirtless for a bit.

These characters were made for me.

#boogiestronic80s #ask