#Os Infames

[luizdominguesfan]

www.crazyrock.com.br

Amigos: Chegou a edição 388 do programa: "Só Brasuca" pelas ondas sonoras da Webradio Crazy Rock, com a minha participação ao lado do seu idealizador e apresentador oficial, o professor Julio Cesar Souza.

Falamos a respeito do trabalho dos seguintes artistas da atualidade: Marcos Mamuth, Os Infames, Pamplona, Ricardo Salsa, Cosmic River, Serpenteando, EGP, Andrack, Tuco Sobral, Peixes Voadores, Stuarts, Cítrica, Lani, Klinsh, Paulo Meyer & The Thunderheads e Farsantes?

Serão sete execuções em dias e horários diferentes, entre 29 de junho a 5 de julho de 2024.

Anote: Sábado, dia 29 - 14 horas Domingo, dia 30 - 20 horas Segunda-feira, dia 1º de julho - 10 horas Terça-feira, dia 2 - 23 horas Quarta-feira, dia 3 - 18 horas Quinta-feira, dia 4 - 16 horas Sexta-feira, dia 5 - 12 horas

[catilinas]

dolabella’s ‘infamous mouth’ huh

[uldren-sov]

On the dotted line

just an idea that wouldn't leave me alone. getting THE TATTOO. naturally this got WAY AWAY FROM ME but their dynamic is just so fun to me at this stage so I had to really go for it you know. some pre-relationship Camy and Seven. ~2k words. Little @infamous-if fic Camy Rose is mine! The band and Seven are canon

Nerves that feel equal parts firecracker and fear light up her skin as Camy Rose is dragged along the dirty sidewalk. Maybe she should protest more, dig her heels in more, grab her best friend by the shoulders and shake him until he saw reason, but there was something about Seven Lawless that always keeps her along for the ride. So, instead of trying to sober up, trying to come to her senses, and trying to tell him this was his worst idea to date, she lets herself be dragged by the cuff of the leather jacket she stole from him toward a hole-in-the-wall tattoo parlor they saw a street away from their latest gig.

It was finally going to happen, and it was going to happen tonight.

Her fault, really, for years she's been saying that she always wanted a tattoo and with the success of their latest show Seven concluded that this was the best time to get one. When she shot that down, he doubled down to sweeten the deal: if she got one, then so would he. "Design pending," he clarified. And after a few drinks, mixing and matching alcohol? Sure, why not make a decision she could regret for the rest of her life.

"Yeah, let's do it," she said. With a cheer and a tug on her wrist she was immediately dragged away. But that was back at the after-party and not on the way to the actual store. Whatever buzz of bravery she had because of the alcohol started to fade, replaced by those building nerves.

"I'm not letting you chicken out this time!" He says, his wild, glittering, gaze matched only by his grin. It's infectious and despite everything, she had to admit, it was a great night to do something stupid like this, so long as she shared it with him. It was a great show and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't down to celebrate. With this paycheck she could check off rent being paid, bills being paid, and still have some money left over to play with.

They're even invited back next week. She had no excuses left, no reasons left to worry.

"I'm not chickening out!" She says, deciding in that moment to just say fuck it and jump off that cliff along with him. Matching his step, his gait, his eyes, his energy, she slips her hand in his, clutching on tight. "So long as you're not."

Fingers lace with hers and she can't help but still feel tipsy as she spills with laughter, tugging him to a stop after hearing Jazzy calling out to them. Seven swings back to face her as she swings their hands between them, warmth racing up her arm at the gesture. A furrow of his brows and she knows what he'll say as he leans in. More and more he's pulled weird reactions from her even when they haven't acted any different. Like now, they close the distance between each other and that warmth burns into something hotter, something heavy that settles on her cheeks. It's so dumb! She blames the alcohol as she chuckles a little, trying to disperse the heat in her veins.

His bandana presses into the crown of her head as she tries to hold his bright gaze in the blurry space between them. "No way. We're doing this and when we look at this tattoo, we're going to remember that this was the night that everything changed," he vowed, giving her hand a squeeze.

Her heart betrays her as it stutters in her chest. It's not the first time she's caught between not wanting anything to change between herself and her friends, and desperately wanting a change just between the two of them. And the realization that maybe, just maybe, she's wanted that change for a long time now is terrifying. If she thinks too long about how it feels as they gently sway there, how the tip of his nose brushed over hers, how his breath hits her lips, she'll do something stupid, she knows, so instead she screws her face up and presses him back with her head. She burns pathetically now that there's some space between them and even in her tipsy state she starts to wrestle down those thoughts again.

"So dramatic," she rolls her eyes with a grin. "Or this is just going to be a normal tattoo, or like, our gateway tattoo to a bunch more and that's it." She nudges her shoulder into his side and he squirms.

"All I'm hearing is that I'm going to have the biggest 'I told you so' of my life when we're older and it turns out I was right," he says, hip checking her in retaliation. Stumbling away a step she bursts out laughing and lets go of his hand, shaking off the sparkling warmth in her fingertips before she waves over the rest of their friends who finally caught up.

---

A half-dozen bad ideas later and all six of them finally managed to pull away from all the designs hung on the walls of the cramped store. Since it was decided there was no way to perfectly represent this moment -- and we'd need way more time to design it out, or so Seven had said -- they both settled on something that felt simpler but somehow even more important: their friendship. They'd sign their initials on each others wrists, like they were sealing some kind of evil contract to always be together, through these moments and others.

Camy clocks the wary glance from the artist as they hand them both sharpies. She has the clarification, that, no, this isn't a couple thing, chambered on the tip of her tongue, but Rowan is quicker on the draw.

"Name a more iconic duo than you two and being mistaken for a couple," he says as Seven shakes his head with a scoff, already rolling up his sleeve.

"Iris and Devyn," she quips back as Jazzy aww's teasingly. She grins in the face of the bird Iris flips her way and Devyn's blush, before walking toward the actual station instead of the pseudo-waiting area at the front of the store. As she and Seven take their seats beside each other she idles a moment, staring after the artist setting up further back in the store, allowing the nerves settle in her gut again as she looks after the needle gun, the black ink.

"Hey," Seven's voice is in her ear as she draws her attention back. "Which arm are you sacrificing?" He smiles and it's magic how her nerves just seem to immediately burn off. She hunches closer to him.

"Right one." She nods.

"Really? Main hand?"

"Mic hand, too."

"Wow," he drawls, "this really is special to you, huh?" She snickers and nudges him.

"Big talk from the guy who jumped at the chance to have my name on his skin," she says, looking from under her eyelashes for effect. For a moment his back straightens, his eyes widen, and her heart stalls, waiting for ... something. As quickly as he reacted, it's gone, and in the next heartbeat she remembers how to breathe.

"Someone had to. It's not like other people are exactly lining up to make it happen, Camy," he shoots back with a smirk as her mouth drops open in faux outrage. "You're lucky I'm so generous and taking one for the team."

"First of all! Rude!" She scoffs into a laugh as he grins in her face. "I've had - so many dates, with so many people." He snorts, unimpressed as he rips the top off his sharpie.

"Your last girlfriend was when you started college and that lasted for roughly a month," he says without missing a beat. Weird.

"So what?"

"That was like 11 months ago."

"Well I have a full schedule: focusing on my studies and our band and my job."

"You're really going for the 'I'm focusing on my career' excuse?"

"And I've been on dates since then, by the way! It's not my fault they don't get me."

She meant it as a joke but as Seven presses her hand back at her wrist to start writing he suddenly cuts his gaze to her over his shoulder. There it is again, that stutter, that weight, that heat that blooms under her skin. Because she sees it, but she doesn't know if she really sees it or if she just wants it to be there, that look of his that seems to say 'but I do.'

She can't think about that now. No, she won't think about that now. Especially not when they're sitting so close, not when Seven can feel her pulse race under his fingertips, and not when he's looking at her like that. Like he sometimes does when waking up after a long night of songwriting and hanging out at her apartment, wrapped and tangled up in each other. That heat settles heavy on her skin again as she searches his suddenly dark green eyes.

She should ask him to be her roommate. No, she must still be tipsy. Would that be a bad idea? It seems like a bad idea.

Or the best, she thinks, glancing down to his mouth.

The sharpie cap clatters to the floor and she blinks out of it, pulling back -- when did she lean so far in? -- as she mirrors a sheepish grin from Seven.

"Yeah, well," he suddenly clears his throat, glancing to her and away quickly as he scoops up the sharpie top. "Guess you have to keep trying."

"Not that this is going to help," her smile is shaky in return as the vanishing heat leaves her winded and off balance, despite the alcohol. "How about you, what hand?"

"Left, my mic hand." A small but long-standing debate between them hanging in the background of his declaration.

"Our tattoos will even fit together if we hold hands." She gasps sarcastically as she smiles teasingly his way. An unimpressed narrow of his eyes and Seven suddenly crowds over her arm as she feels a pinpoint of pressure on her wrist.

"I changed my mind. I'm drawing a dick so that everyone knows what you are," he states. She yelps and fights her hand free from his hold amidst their chorus of laughs. A short back and forth and he reveals that the pressure on her skin was just the back of his pen. Seven crows over just how much she fell for it as she grudgingly scrapes together what dignity she has left.

They joke until they finish the draft of their tattoos. She lines their wrists up, black ink on olive and russet skin, the start of something permanent. If she were more sentimental like Seven the moment might mean something more. He might say something about the two of them literally making a mark on each other, or something like it's not only their names but their handwriting, something as unique as a fingerprint, and it's on each others skin.

CR SD

But she's not. She saves all that for him and for those moments where they write and sing in a way she doesn't dare to with anyone else. Instead, as the artist returns, she just says the truth in the simplest way she knows how:

"Forever?"

"Forever."

They hold their hands tight as the needle whirs to life.

[charlies-crushes]

Ooh if you wouldn't mind my three loves:

While i work on the headcanons- here's another fun little reblog game!

Reblog this with a picture of your f/o (or multiple f/os!) or a picture of your self insert/oc and I'll assign them a littlest pet shop figure! Feel free to include more than one character per reblog! (if you want to!)

Proship dni!

[honeybrucie]

Fit for Fatherhood

I have had this in my drafts for a few days since it was voted the favourite to be written in my most recent poll - the angsty reaction of Bruce Wayne as he dives into his most daunting adventure yet: Fatherhood. I haven't written much angst like this so I am once again nervously posting! I'd love to thank my beta reader and ideas-organiser @i-wanna-be-your-muse for their thoughts and help too!! warnings: pregnancy, poor reaction, alcohol, some anger word count: 4.2k+

Bruce liked to think that his workout routine was a good use of his time. Bench pressing three hundred kilogram weights was the norm before his typical dumbbell curls and functional balance training - and all before breakfast too. He had an active lifestyle and needed to keep his fitness levels check, lest someone else gain the upper hand. He couldn't afford for that to happen in protecting Gotham, after all. He enjoyed it too, keeping physically fit and feeling os strong, knowing that he was more than capable in protecting those he knew deserved it.

Perhaps it was his robust cardio training that would explain why he ran so quickly out of the master bedroom, throttling down the stairs and out of the large wooden entrance, upon hearing the news.

"You're going to be a father, Bruce."

After the family doctor had suggested taking a test, you'd more than willingly done just that - only once the shock had sunk into your bones and had begun to transform as a wary form of hope and electricity that could almost have been viewed as excitement. Dr Browne had left to give you both some privacy, with a nod to call should anything "return positively". You admired her professionalism, as it had been glaringly obvious how unplanned the very idea of a baby had been to both you and Bruce.

Alfred had seen Doctor Browne out in his perfect manner, while you hesitantly looked up at Bruce, almost more interested in playing with your thumb nail while you waited for him to speak. He hadn't moved from the spot he had firmly stood in while the Doctor had checked you over, yet despite the diagnosis, his thoughts had seemed to have clouded over as he stared blankly ahead. It was only when you moved to leave the bed, grabbing the paper package containing the tests, that he shifted his gaze to you, eyebrows furrowed.

"Where are you going?"

"Well, I suppose I'd better take this, just to be sure. Are you...do you...?" you looked up at him cautiously, unsure whether to ask if he'd like to be in the bathroom while waiting for the tests. That maybe he'd want to be right there in the moment should there be any news.

No such joy.

"Right.” was his gruff response. “Well… I'll- I'll wait out here."

It was unlike him to be so...removed. Yes, outwith the manor walls he was firm and independent, but your relationship thrived on leaning on each other for comfort and security, on shared whispers, in closeness and physical touch. To see him sit on the king-sized bed, mere feet away from you, yet feeling as though he were an entire continent from you, pushed a deep, dull weight down on your chest.

Refocusing, you'd checked the instructions, quickly going through the motions before settling it down on the bathroom counter.

Two minutes. Keep breathing.

You glanced through the crack in the hinge of the bathroom door, to find Bruce still sat on the bed, with that almost infamous stare towards the bedroom wall, hands running through his hair. Bruce being nervous had to be a good thing, right?

You could do this. You both could! Especially with some guidance from Alfred, a baby in your and his care - your baby - would thrive. Bruce would find his old baby clothes in the attic, build a crib, and love and protect you both like the fierce guardian he already knew how to be. Sure, it was unplanned, but Bruce had never planned on meeting and marrying you, and you’re certainly under the impression that he's quite pleased with those decisions.

The timer buzzed, catching you suddenly off guard, despite the bright white digits cluttering your vision as they had hurtled towards zero.

"Bruce, I think it's ready. Do you want to come see?"

You're met with silence, until the door slowly pushes open and Bruce's broad frame fills the doorway entirely. He still looks like he has a million different thoughts running through his head, so you kiss his hand as you take it in yours and aim for a nervous smile in his direction.

You count down from three, trying to ignore his expression in the mirror as you turn over the stick and reveal the result.

"Pregnant."

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

You gasp, hand flying to your mouth as you look closer at the test. Your hand reaches to your stomach without even realising as tears arrive through your blinking lashes. Pregnant. A baby. Something that is half you and half Bruce, something - someone - you made with your love, who might have his eyes, his soft dark hair, his soft but sweet grin. The thought of it is so exciting that you fail to notice his reaction.

Bruce's heart sank when he saw that cursed word. Pregnant. An unplanned, careless mistake was now going to cost the two of you your entire happiness. No more lie ins, or spontaneous holidays. No more fancy dinners or exclusive getaways. This was not the life he had envisioned for himself, and it only got worse the more his thoughts spiralled.

He was going to be someone's father. He'll have to raise it and take it places and feed it the proper things and it'll take all of his wife's time from him-

"Brucie...did you hear me? You're going to be a father, Bruce."

Your words shake him from his thoughts, his throat closing as he watched your perfect smile gaze up oh so hopefully at him. He was going to have to break your heart now, instead of enduring and prolonging the pain any further.

"I can't."

It's a blunter response than you'd expected, but knew that he would be scared at first.

"You can! You are so wonderful with the children at the orphanage...you-" you begin to reason.

"No, no. I can't do it. God, this is going to ruin my life, I'm Bruce Wayne!" he emphasises, running a hand down his face. "I'm not meant to be a father, I can't-" He looks at you, watching your heart start to break with every passing second, with every word he speaks "you'll have to do it without me. I'm sorry."

And then, he ran.

If he hears your sobs, he ignores them. If he stumbles down the staircase then he powers on and keeps moving, distancing himself from the 'issue' in the master bedroom, which in reality resides within his own mind. He moves, heart hammering hard within his chest as if it were attempting its own escape. Bruce makes it to the end of the gardens by the garage, leaving you to hear the screech of car tyres in the solitude of your bedroom.

It isn't long before Alfred makes his presence known. After calling out for “Mr Wayne?!” as Bruce had stormed his way out of the house and put his coat on.

"Don't. Not now, Alfred." Bruce grits out.

Alfred's face hardens as the front door slams shut behind him. Upstairs, alone in the still air of the bedroom, you begin to sob. Not the kind that be quietened by a kind word, but soul-deep sobs of someone who just watched the man she loves choose fear over family.

The Bruce she had loved and married so earnestly and fully, was not the one who walked out that door.

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

Moments later, Alfred was at the master suite, knocking quietly with a soft "Mrs Wayne?" before creaking the door open to reveal you, the lady of the manor, curled up into a ball on the floor beside the bed, arms tightly wrapped around yourself, sobbing your heart out. Your eyes had gone puffy and you were shaking with how violently the sobs were leaving your body.

"Oh, Mrs Wayne... I'm sure whatever Mr Wayne has said or done-" he starts, before he sees the white plastic stick resting on the bed. His breath catches in his throat, immediately glass-eyed at the thought of a new life in the manor, the news that the boy he'd raised was going to be a father. However, between your small, shaking body, Bruce's absence, and the white stick, it doesn't take him long to piece everything together. In fact, knowing Bruce's aversion to unexpected change and his former family trauma, maybe this situation was only going to go one way.

"He doesn't want the baby, he doesn't want us anymore Alfred." you sobbed as he helped you curl up into the foetal position on the bed, pulling your weak and hurting body from the floor. "He said- he said he couldn't do it, that I'd have to raise the baby alone, by myself. He left, Alfred." you squeezed your eyes shut, but the thoughts running through your head were still in charge, making your heart ache with devastation; "and the Bruce that I married isn't going to be the one who comes back."

Alfred, whose former infant charge had given him great experience in nurturing small children, was now going to wish he hadn't been born upon his return. How dare Bruce abandon you, when he promised - especially in his wows - to always love, protect, and care for you. No matter what. "That boy" he mutters under his breath "has just made the worst mistake of his life."

You sniffle, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

"I hate him right now, and I hate myself even more for still loving him, still hoping he will come back."

"Mrs Wayne...I know Mr Wayne may not have been tactful. In fact I will be giving him a piece of my mind on his return. But this is...this is wonderful news. He's acting very foolishly for thinking otherwise, even if he does feel scared." Placing his hand on yours, he squeezes it in comfort, knowing that while your excitement had quelled, you deserved to feel some joy and support through it all.

"Thank you Alfred." you murmur quietly, vulnerably. "I'm scared too. Especially now. But I can't run like he has. I can't believe I was so excited when he so clearly wasn't". You hiccup and wipe your nose with your hand. The butler, ever thoughtful, provides you with a handkerchief. You continue on your ramblings once free of tears and snot.

"He looked disgusted, Alfred. Like I had done this on purpose. And now I don't even know what to do."

Alfred gave you a curious glance, as if you were ridiculous to assume responsibility over this decision.

"Well...I have to do this alone. I'm having the baby, Alfred. I love them too much already. Besides, I'm not putting Bruce's child in any danger because even if he doesn't love them, at least he has an heir. Maybe the baby will seem more useful to him in that way-"

Alfred was, at this point, quietly seething, but was not about to let it show. If he was angry at Bruce before then he was downright furious with him now. No mother in any situation should feel like she needs a back up plan on where to live, especially the mother of Bruce Wayne's child. He could easily have prevented this, quietened her fears and reassured her while still having his own anxieties. You were still rambling while he worked out just how he would make Bruce see some sense.

"And do I move out? If the baby gets in the way then maybe we should-"

Alfred shushes her tenderly. Not in a patronising way, but in a way that could only have been practised by caring for and comforting a young, infant Bruce all those years ago.

“You are not going to do this alone. Whether Mr Wayne comes to his senses or not, I will not let you do it alone. I’ll sooner have him out of this place for everything he’s put you through”

You smile, sadly. Had it been so wrong to wish for such kindness and devotion from your own husband?

"I'm sure wherever Mr Wayne is now, he'll have realised the error of his ways and return home tonight. Now please, try to get some rest...for the both of you."

After washing your face and changing into nightclothes, a sugary mug of tea courtesy of Alfred had soothed your aching heart and quelled your racing thoughts enough to lull you to sleep. It came quickly, and deeply, of which you were glad.

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

Meanwhile, 44 miles south of the manor, Bruce had stopped at a off-road junction. It held a gas station, a phone booth, and a run-down bar that looked all too perfect for his current mood.

Miserable.

He had driven south mindlessly, only last recalling the scratch of the gravel under the tyres as he'd thrown the car into drive and sped down the manor lane. No, he could also recall before that moment, another sound - your broken sobs, which only quietened as he had raced further and further from them.

Still, better to break your heart now than to keep up a pretence. He wasn't about to be involved in whatever was going to happen next - the uncertainty, the mess, the smells, the cries - the failure he would be to a child that didn’t deserve their place in such a life.

Looking for a coin to place in the meter, he opened the glovebox to reveal one of your wonderfully incessant sticky notes. You loved leaving them around the house or in his car, as once he had told you of their success in making him smile.

Always with you! I love you.

Reading over each of the 5 words and smoothing his finger over the neat flicks of your handwriting, he finds himself pocketing the note to continue his search of spare change. It seems like hours, but eventually he gives up in his attempt after only a moment of rooting around for the money. He knows his mood has not helped the situation.

He will have to pay the $100 fine later.

Upon entering the bar, he is quick to notice small but key details; two other men sit at the bar, about four stools apart but in comfortable silence as the bartender - aged 50 at least with wisps of grey hair - wipes down the bar with a blue cloth that has certainly seen better days. Theres a small, silver, boxy television in the corner of the room, situated so that all customers have a decent view of the latest news report or sports update.

He's not addressed until he sits by the bar himself, 3 stools away from the nearest man who also looks to be drowning his sorrows. Whisky, neat, is his drink of choice, and as the bartender slides it over to him, he asks one simple question that Bruce supposes is due to the look on his face.

"I'll just keep the drinks coming, yeah?"

Bruce nods. He's at least grateful that no one recognises him. He takes a swig of his drink, barely flinching as it burns his throat.

He fishes inside his trench coat pocket again to find the square piece of paper he had found earlier. Unfortunately, this catches the attention of the man nearest him, who decides that this very moment is the time for a casual conversation.

“What you got there?"

“None of your business.” Bruce drawls, plainly. He doesn’t need company, he just needs to be left alone. Nevertheless, the man persists.

"Oh, I get it. Notecards. Wife used to leave me those all the time before it all went south. I don’t miss 'em, always tellin me what I forgot or needed to do. Naggin me even from a bit of paper." He takes a larger gulp of his own beer. "Good luck with that, son."

Sure, if you were like that then Bruce would all but agree with his new bar-acquaintance but your note is different - your note is one of love.

Always with you. He reads it over and over again, as if committing the words and how they flow in ink to memory.

After three months of dating, Bruce had told you of his fear of being abandoned. He had described his anguish and trauma he had gone through due to the devastating deaths of his parents. How Alfred tried but could never - and would never - replace them, which the butler knew all too well. Bruce didn’t want to feel so abandoned and lost ever again, and so he had closed himself off to the rest of the world. His thinking in the past had been that if he voluntarily alienated himself, then other people wouldn't have the opportunity to do it for him, which always hurt the most. Lack of friends at school, lack of a serious girlfriend, no sense of endangerment when his life was at risk - the signs were all there.

That’s why it was so special when he met you. He had been so terrified but knew he wanted to see you every possible moment he could, and so for once, Bruce Wayne met his fears head on.

On the night you had told him you loved him, he wanted to capture that memory in a bottle to live forever. He had opened his heart to you, telling you that he had been so scared to lose anyone else around him, and now that mean that he was scared to his bones to lose you. You had told him it was going to take a lot more than him being afraid for him to lose you.

He takes another swig of whisky, signalling to the bartender for another.

He hadn’t even thought of what you’d be doing right now. Perhaps initially you’d been upset but he wouldn't be surprised if you were angry now. Maybe you want nothing to do with him. That you’re grateful he’s gone and-

No.

No, if he really thought clearly, without the lens of his trauma and his favourite yet unhealthy coping mechanism of pushing his loved ones away, he would come to the correct conclusion. He'd broken your heart.

As a boy, he’d been so vulnerable, so scared and confused when his parents died. He suddenly had to grow up because of a bad decision someone else made on a whim. It had broken his entire world apart and then some. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

And he’d done that to you.

He had run away, leaving you scared, confused, and especially vulnerable now, with so many decisions to make based on his inability to man up. The notes you gave him always reminded him that you were there and would never leave him - that he was important to you and that you would be there to support him through his issues. Bruce had had the opportunity to show you that same love and support...and he had run away.

His realisations are coming 44 miles and 2 drinks too late. God, what would his own parents say, what would Alfred do to him on his return? The pain of abandonment would be eating at her which would be no good to their child-

Their child to love, a child that the love of his life was giving him. A real treasure, wrapped in pure joy. You were offering the very opposite of abandonment - growing a whole tiny person that hw would have the purest bond with, someone who would rely on him, who he could safely love with his entire heart. And if he was truly lucky, it would be a girl that looked just like you too.

Digging into his breast pocket, he throws a rather large bill on the counter and shoves the note in his trenchcoat pocket. He had to make things right. The car revs up in no time at all, screeching back into the night, this time heading north. If any of the men in the bar had seen Bruce’s eyes fill with tears, then they didn't dare say a word.

He had just started looking familiar too.

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

Back at the manor, sleep had taken you quickly after draining the last sugary morsels of Alfred's tea. As it approached 1am, you had been fast asleep for a couple of hours after all the tears you had cried had worn you out. Alfred meanwhile, had been making himself busy so that he didn't personally go out to hunt Bruce down. The house had been pulled into a still, quiet trance as you slept soundly.

At least, you had been sleeping soundly, until the screech of tyres pulling up to the front door woke you up in a panic. You heard the slam of the car door and winced, knowing Bruce probably had become angry at the situation. You had cried all the tears you possibly could, but if they could flow then they certainly would have started once more as you curled into your pillow, praying for the whole nightmare to cease.

It was the large front door slamming that startled you next, followed by loud footsteps and Bruce calling out. Then Alfred’s voice. The butler had tried to be quiet but Bruce clearly was on the warpath. You shut your eyes tightly but could still hear the two arguing.

"You may have inherited your father's estate, but you've lost the right to call yourself a man in this house!"

"I know, Alfred. I just need to see her-"

“She is fast asleep and after what you put her through I strongly suggest-"

“She’s still here?!” you hear your husband ask.

Oh.

That hurt. Had he really expected you out of the manor within a matter of hours? Your heart, already broken, now felt as though it had smashed into tiny little pieces. This really was the end.

“She’s asleep in the master bedroom, she- would you be quiet Mr Wayne!"

You don’t hear Bruce again, only the approach of thundering footsteps and Alfred calling after him. Before you can make sense of anything else, the bedroom doors swing open and reveal Bruce in his trench coat with tussled hair and red cheeks. He looks absolutely worn down to his core, a shell of the man you know him as.

You sit up, suddenly startled, and manage to choke out the one word, the one person who has been on your mind for hours.

“Bruce?”

He makes grand strides towards you, and this is it, you think. You weakly stand to your feet in an aim to feel less small and unimportant than you already do. He’s going to yell or make you leave, and Alfred really can’t stop him since it’s the Wayne family manor and you’re not a Wayne by blood - you’re just carrying one.

“Darling” he stumbles closer as though seeing you makes him weak, and falls to his knees right in front of you. His head is bowed at first, as if he won't even look at you, before he looks up at you looking utterly ashamed of himself, with glassy eyes and a sore looking pinched brow to match. He takes your hand in his and does what you’d never thought you’d see Bruce Wayne do in his life.

He begs.

“My darling…please, please forgive me. I-“ he wracks a sob that you'd mistake for your own if you hadn't stopped so long ago. “I made a mistake leaving you- I-i can’t ever make it up to you I know, please…”

“I- Bruce…what?” You splutter out in shock. This truly is the last thing you expected from him, but the first thing you dared to pray for.

“I know- I fucked up! That’s all I am good at doing and it scared me- and I know we both were but-“

“But you left me Bruce”

Your voice, so soft and still so unsure, breaks him down even further.

“I know my love, I know. I can’t change it even though I want to… I was scared and somehow thought I was the only one but then you were here, alone, and I love you too much to ever let you think that being without you is an option in my life. Because it’s not. I love you.”

He rests a large hand on your thigh, as though he’s trying to cling on to you for dear life, hoping that you would find it in your heart to forgive him. His lips are so close to your stomach and you feel waves of hope fill your heart once more.

“I love you both. And that scares me to death. But I’m not letting that stop me from missing out on the two best things to ever happen to me. I would give my life for you both in a second if it meant you were safe. Please forgive me. It doesn’t have to be now, I’ll grovel until she’s born but-"

You take his face in your hands, feeling him tremble in your grasp as you halt his rambling. You wipe away a lone tear from his cheek as your own seem to have dampened your complexion once more. “Don’t you ever do that to me again Bruce Wayne” you reprimand, before you join him on the floor, holding him close before bursting into tears all over again, sobbing into him, staining his coat with tears, dripping a mixture of pain and relief all at once.

“I’ll make it up to you I promise. Let me have the chance and I will.”

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

You stay like that - on the floor and in each others' embrace - for another 10 minutes before Bruce carefully lifts you back onto the bed, drying your eyes as you begin to yawn from broken sleep and heightened emotions. He's here to stay and he means it, intending to hold you all through the night, into the morning and for the rest of your days, if you'll allow it.

You’re about to drift away, feeling so tired but with the knowledge that Bruce is here and the comfort of his arms meaning that sleep will take you soon. Your dreams certainly won't compare.

He thinks perhaps you are already fast asleep, until your voice quietly pipes up once more.

“You said ‘until she’s born’…you think we're having a girl?”

Bruce didn’t realise he said it, but gulps back his nerves at the very thought of how real that sounded. Before he can respond, you speak up for a final comment.

“That would be sweet, then we’d be your girls.”

Suddenly, Bruce feels a lot less scared.

[marsmaladeee]

it's been a whole year since how to build an ocean: instructions by the one and only dirtbag boyband @bearsintreesofficial was released!!! how and what!!!!

as we approach the Next Era i wanted to do a drawing to commemorate everything that's happened in this one. this is maybe my biggest drawing ever and i've put a lot of thought into it and it has soooo many references to the past era in it!! so i'll explain all those under the cut :))

i love this album so so so much and i hope this drawing conveys even a little bit of that!!!

i took everything i knew about the themes of the album and tried to distill it into one piece. the band's mentioned that the album is themed around coming home, reconnecting with your hometown, feeling lost and not really knowing your place in the world. so they're stranded in the middle of the ocean on a boat and trying to navigate their way back home!! haha. it's based more directly on a line from idwba - "when i step onto that ferry, and the man demands his pay". initially i had the boatman charon in the drawing too, but i ended up taking him out as it was kind of confusing!

i wanted it to have a kind of whimsical, fantastical vibe so there's a tree growing out of the boat. why? just for funsies!! on a qna i asked what the band thought the biggest visual symbols from this era were, and they answered maps, the ocean and scrapbooky vibes, so i've given the ocean is a big feature in the drawing. that's what the album's named after!! . callum and george are reading through some maps (callum's are screenshots of croydon on google maps or OS maps of the croydon area, and george is holding the map from the album cover). for the scrapbook vibes i've made a version that looks a bit like a scrapbook page, and a regular version as well.

over on iain and nick's side there's the cake callum baked for the baby shower announcement stream. there's a vase full of daffodils like from that one photoshoot. there's the banner they used to announce ttllm on tiktok, dj l8 nite kitten's head from the iwfc mv, and iain's infamous jleeves. there's two books in front of nick: flights by olga tokarczuk, which the album is named after, and the myth of Sisyphus by albert camus, which is referenced in injured crow. iain is drinking coffee with a raven flying above them whilst nick drinks hot chocolate, and there's also a crow with a bandaged wing - an injured crow, if you will :)

beside callum and george there's the giant mechanical skull callum gave to george on stage, the wizard hat nick had on tour and the bubble gun from the seaside tour. there's also George Jr, the raccoon hand from the spill the beans challenges on the subathon, and the chillies which were also from the subathon. there's also a can of chickpeas. this one's a funny one because iain actually told me to put it there themself! not even a joke!! i asked for an object to put in the drawing and they said a vase (which holds the daffodils) and a chickpea. i drew a can of chickpeas instead because a singular chickpea kind of just got lost in the drawing.

on the back wall of the boat there's a number of engravings. behind nick there's a bike for cycling, jaded - a song that was meant to go onto htbaoi but never made it - and a line from your favourite coat which was used as a clue for the arg leading up to the album announcement (thanks to @asherapparently for sending me that!!). the engravings on the far right side are the lil ghost from the ttllm music video, and the boatman taken directly from the album cover. i mentioned before that i had to omit him from the drawing so i thought i'd pay homage to him here.

finally, there're paper aeroplanes from your favourite coat, confetti for all you get is confetti, and the sign says '463 miles', like the bus route mentioned in henry says. on the side of the boat are a number of photos taken from instagram & twitter posts from this era, and the symbols from the album cover and the back of the vinyl are engraved onto the side of the boat - each one representing a different song. the streamers tied to the tree are in all the colours of the album.

bears in trees if you see this - your album is beautiful and wonderful and i love it dearly!!!

[sanzuscumwhore]

Ft. Baji keisuke

Warning: cousin incest, manipulation, guilt tripping, clit sucking, marking, no protection, PiV sex, baji being a bitch, bimbo reader, (one sided?), praising.

You flashed your auntie an adorable smile when she complimented you about your pink dress. "Tha-thank you Mrs.baji" "aii look at you, you've grown up so much!" Grown up? You looked like a big girl now, you giggled at the thought. Big girl.. yay!

"I hope it wasn't a trouble coming." Mrs.baji said with a hesitant expression "not at all!" Your mom chimed in "we wouldn't miss your house warming party for the world!" You mom continued. Mrs baji chuckled, "oh! Y/n dear, won't you go see kei?" Your smile dropped at the thought of him. You nodded your head no, "I'm sure he's busy- I wouldn't want to trouble him" your voice slowly growing faint. "Don't be silly! You two love playing with each other- remember the times where you'd be in his room all day playing, and wouldn't even want to go home" yea, right- 'playing'. You let out a nervous chuckle but thankfully both the older women were pulled by other guests. You sighed out of relief. 'Need water' you went to their kitchen to get a cup of water cause all of a sudden your throat went dry.

You took out a cup from the cupboard and filled it. "What do we have here~" your blood went cold at his voice, you turned around but got startled at how close he was. "He-hey i-itoko-san" you gulped, he flashed you his infamous grin which showed his sharp fangs. "Well hello there baby cousin~" His breath fanning over your ears. He was always so, so much taller than you. And his muscular frame, his huge hands, his long hair dropping over his broad shoulders, his bruised knuckles it made you so wet. He licked his lips "why didn't you come over to me hmm? Do you not like me anymore?" He said with a hurt expression. But in his mind he knew it was all a facade. You gasped, "no! Kei you know I'd never be like that... its just that-" "it's what huh?" He said a little louder, which scared you. You remember his reputation when he was a teen, buring cars, stripping people and beating them up. "No-no I just thought-" "hmp your not my favourite cousin anymore!" He mentally cringed at himself when he said that, you'd always be his favourite, forever no matter what. "Wha-what?" He smirked. Gotcha. Now he just had to play a little mean, but he knows his mean demeanor gets you so wet. "I'm going to c/n, she's more nicer than you" your breath hitched. You never liked c/n, she was always so mean and said nasty things to you. He rolled his eyes and walked away, you grabbed his muscular forearm "don-don't say that! I'm sorry" you mumbled your apology though he heard it. His grin reached both his ears. "Ok then.. prove it" He leaned in towards you at the perfect point to see you cleavage. The pink dress was so skimpy, didn't you realise it? He'd been starting at you all night. Hoping you'd come over to your 'kei' and greet him cutely like always. "How?" You asked looking up at him with your glossy eyes. Fuck he could feel his cock hardening in his pants, you were always go eager to please him, he found it so damn cute. "Let's play" you gulped. "Do-do we have to?" Huh? What was wrong with you today? You were always os eager to play with him, to let him use you. "So you don't like me huh!" Your eyes widen "NO! i-ill play" you blushed when he smiled.

Baji took you to his room, it was so much bigger than his previous one. He took your hands which made you a blushing mess, you were so ashamed of yourself on how you blushed and got wet with your older cousin. "Ok since you look so cute today ill let you choose, doctor or fire fighter " you bit your lower lips, you looked cute? He was always so good with his words. "Doc- Doctor" you saw Baji smile "Alright then, let's play~"

"Is everything ok doc?" You said nervously "hmmm" Baji continue inspecting you pussy. It was so hard- for him to not make out with your cute clit, to just shove his fat cock in and make you cum all over his cock, like he used to. Back then too you were so eager to make him happy, oh how you let him use you to his disposal. You remember eveytime you came over he'd take you to his room and use you, after wards he'd cuddle you and that's why you never left his room. You liked how he held you. You even let his friends use you! Mikey made you cum so hard with his cock in your asshole, and chifuyu made you feel so good when you sat on his face. All because Baji told you to do so.

"Ok so ms.l/n does it hurt over here?" Smug bastard asked you with his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. "Ngh~ ye-yesss~ doc" you bit your lower lips to contain your moans from spilling out. "As I thought, don't worry I have a cure" Baji grinned looking at your blissful expression. "Pleaseee doc~ make me feel better.. it hurts" Baji nodded. "Don't worry I'll make you feel so, so much better"

"Ahh~ ooh~ doooc~ feels good~" Baji continously sucked your swollen clit, with his nose resting on your mound. He let go of your clit with a pop "you ready pretty~" he asked. You blushed when he called you pretty. You nodded, Baji stood between your legs as he undressed himself. His tanned abs, his muscular pecs, his strong biceps, his even more muscular thighs, he was so dreamy, you loved your cousin soo much. "Alrighty then! Your turn" His voice encouraged. Your panties were already under his pillow, so you took off your pink dress revealing your cutesy pink bra which had a bow in the middle. He roughly grabbed your bra tearing it off. You gasped "be-be a little gentle kei-" he just rolled his eyes at you. He grabbed your ankles, pulling you towards him. "Y/n~ your so cute, your like my cute little pet~" he pinched your perked nipples. "Ngg~ you think I'm cute?" You asked with your voice shivering "the cutest~ not only cute but really pretty tooy/n-chan" you turned red with his words covering your face with your hands. "Now, now why you gettin' so shy on me, you love playing with me remember" you nodded when he took your hands off your face pinning it above your head with his one hand. "So why so cold to me? You don't hate me do yaa?" He paused before he put on a feverish face "wait? Did you tell auntie about what we play?!" He asked looking a little concerned. "No... you told me not to say anyone" he breathed in relief. "G-good, don't tell anyone okay? Otherwise we won't get to play anymore and we won't get to see each other, you don't want that... do you?" Your eyes widen, not being able to see kei? You'd probably die. You shook your head frantically. He smiled "See, your so nice to me, your such good girl" you bit your lower lips when he said that. "Now.. let's play ok~"

"Fuck you feel so fucking tight princess~ so good fo'me" he grunted. You couldn't focus anymore, his thumb playing with your clit. His fat cock piercing you with no mercy. He let your hands wrap around his neck and his other hand wrapped tightly around your waist. He bit your neck and sucked dark red hickies. He pulled one of nipples with his teeth "such pretty nipples baby". Your make up that your mom did for you was running down your face. Your mascara running down your face, your lip gloss smeared every where even on bajis lips. "Ahh~ kei~ i- I love yoooou~" you moaned with your head thrown back, clinging on him. Baji grinned before letting out a grunt "i-i know baby- fuck- your gonna cum aren't ya? Can feel you clenching- ooh Fuck~" he pulled your hair and kissed your roughly, shoving his tongue down your throat. He looked down at where the two of you were connected and he almost came right then and there seeing the white ring forming around his cock. Your clung onto him more arching your back. "Hmmpf- feels so good kei~" you boosted his ego. He smirked holding you tightly, his pelvis snapping on yours. His thrusts started getting sloppy and before you knew it, you were shaking as you came all over his cock. He thrusted few more times and pulled out as he released his seeds on you tummy. He rolled off towards your side as you were panting "fuck, that was amazing" you nodded. He got up from his bed and gave you one of his shirts that was so dam big on you. Without showering or washing up, he came back to bed and pulled your small frame towards him. You hugged his large torso while he hugged you tight in his arms. "Hey tomorrow ken and mitsuya are coming over, you remember them right, well let them play with you ok." You happily nodded your head, anything to make your favourite cousin happy. He smiled "good girl, your still my small baby ok" it was clearly a statement and not a question. "Am not a big girl?" You asked looking up at him with your doe eyes. He let out a deep chuckled "nah, your my small little baby cousin" he kissed the top of your head. You hid your face in his bare chest in embarrassment. "But don't tell your mom ok, or you won't be favourite cousin anymore" you agreed, after all he is your favourite cousin, kei.

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

[sweetblinginrose]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗,

(OS Eddie Munson x fem!reader geek)

summary: Rival Dungeons and Dragons reader who has a tournament and ends up without clothes. Oops…

word count: 6,6k +

warnings: obv +18, rivalry, unprotected sex, asphyxiation, bad language, cumming inside, female masturbation, culilingus.

a/n: hey lol, i wrote this half asleep so idk how it turned out, i'll see if it's any good or not later, so if there is something wrongly translated or that you don't find makes sense, pls let me know, hugs!

oh and don't copy my idea, it's my own huh 🦄

masterlist

part 2 !!

━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━

The Sith Order.

All the members of the Hellfire Club and your group, The Sith Order, maintained a cordial and mutually respectful relationship, with the exception of the tense rivalry between you and the opposing leader, the insufferable Eddie. You hated him so much, especially now that you had bet your grand dice, which your brother had given you as a gift.

The abandoned cabin loomed like a shadow among the trees of the forest, a forgotten refuge that now housed your group of friends and your imaginary adventures. Inside, the air was filled with a smell of dampness and earth, a constant reminder of nature reclaiming its space. The once cozy and lived-in furniture was now covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs that wove complex patterns in every corner.

The sofa, your throne, was worn out, with upholstery torn in several places, revealing the crumbling yellowed foam at the touch. Dark stains of time adorned the fabric, and every time you moved, a cloud of dust rose like a sigh from the cabin itself. Sitting there, on your stomach, with a furrowed brow and crossed arms, you couldn't help but feel the rough and cold texture of the sofa against your skin, a reminder of your recent defeat in the game.

Around you, the tables wobbled on uneven legs, their surfaces scratched and marked with circles from past glasses. The faded and torn curtains hung sadly from the windows, allowing dim light to filter in and illuminate the dust particles in the air. The floor creaked under the weight of footsteps, and each floorboard seemed to tell a story of abandonment.

In this space, time seemed to have stopped, and every object told the story of a better past now eclipsed by neglect and desolation.

You felt as if a storm was brewing inside you, a mixture of frustration and challenge that consumed you as you sat on the sofa. The defeat in the friendly game was a thorn in your pride, a small battle lost in a war that seemed to extend beyond the game of dragons and dungeons. The rivalry with the Hellfire Club and its leader, Eddie, was the real dragon to be defeated, and every thought of him fueled the flames of your resentment.

Eddie, with his arrogant smile and his ability to bring out the best in his players, had become the antagonist not only in the game, but in your mind and life. You imagined him, with his tousled hair and carefree attitude, as the perfect villain for your campaign, one who seemed to enjoy every time his group came out victorious. The idea that he might consider your defeat as a point in his favor was unbearable.

While your friends continued with the campaign, laughing, stressed, focused, and rolling dice, you immersed yourself in your thoughts, planning your next move. It was not just a matter of winning a game; it was a matter of honor, of proving that your group could overcome any challenge, even the infamous Hellfire Club. Determination began to replace frustration, and although you still felt the bitterness of defeat, there was now a new goal on the horizon: to defeat Eddie and prove that your group was the best in the fantasy game.

But... were you really prepared for tonight?

...

Eddie, with a sly smile and a spark of malice in his eyes, steps forward to greet you in the lair of the Hellfire Club, the basement of the institute, the setting of countless campaigns and now the battlefield of your latest challenge. As the girls from your club gather in the space, filled with detailed maps and meticulously painted character figures, Eddie focuses on you, his most formidable rival.

"Welcome, oh great 'Mialee!'" he exclaims with an exaggeratedly theatrical and ironic tone, making a reference to the elven mage character to underline his mockery. "I hope your spells are as sharp as your tongue this time, and that your strategies are less predictable than your expressions of defeat."

You can feel the gaze of the others on you, some with complicit smiles and others with cautious curiosity. Eddie continues, not missing the opportunity to poke at your pride: "I hope you brought your Dragon Crystal Die, because something tells me you're going to need all the luck you can get."

The lair resonates with the stifled laughter of the club members, and although you know that Eddie's words are part of the rivalry game, you also feel that each joke is a challenge to your skill and determination. With a firm gaze and unwavering resolve, you prepare to show that this battle will be different, that this time, Eddie will be the one left speechless at the end of the night.

"You are living proof that not everything that glitters in a treasure is gold, and in your case, it's not even copper," you say, challenging him as you look him in the eyes. With a confidence that resonates in every word, you confront Eddie, your eyes shining with the reflection of the candles that illuminate the basement. "I hope you haven't forgotten your part of the bet, Eddie," you say with a firm and clear voice that cuts through the tension in the room. "That Orb of Entwined Destinies you so proudly show off will be mine before the moon reaches its zenith."

The Orb of Entwined Destinies was a perfect sphere of dark crystal, with a core that seemed to contain a miniature nebula, ever-changing and slowly rotating. It was more than just an object for Eddie; it was a symbol of his ability to manipulate probabilities and destiny within the game.

The mention of the orb makes Eddie's smile falter for a moment, a crack in his facade of confidence. You know you have hit a sensitive point, reminding him that you are not the only one with something valuable at stake. "Get ready, Eddie," you continue, "because when I'm done with you and the Hellfire Club, that orb will be the trophy of The Sith Order, and your luck will change forever," you spit, leaving the boys dumbfounded, unlike his group of friends, as they were used to this kind of speech.

Lucas, with a carefree smile and a tone bordering on disbelief, tries to lighten the atmosphere that has built up in the room. "Come on, guys, don't you realize? It's just a dumb bet, right? There's no need to turn this into an epic battle or something..." he comments, his voice a thread of sanity in the tapestry of rivalry unfolding before him.

However, his attempt to lighten the mood is quickly quashed by a severe look from both leaders, who in a rare moment of unity gesture to him with a stern gesture and an almost synchronized "Shh!" The seriousness of their bet is not something they are willing to downplay, even with Lucas' playful interjection.

The battle between The Sith Order and the Hellfire Club unfolds in a fantasy world woven with the magic of dragons and dungeons, but the tension is as real as the beating hearts of the players. The room, illuminated by the flickering light of the candles, has transformed into an epic battlefield where each roll of the dice resonates like the clash of swords.

The Sith Order bravely faces the challenges posed by Eddie and his Hellfire Club. The dice roll on the table like distant thunder, dictating the fate of heroes and villains alike. You, The Sith Order, with characters ranging from cunning rogues to powerful sorceresses, maneuver through traps and puzzles that Eddie has crafted with malicious skill. The battle intensifies, with each strategic move and each spell cast adding layers to the unfolding narrative. Your characters fight hordes of infernal creatures, cross dark abysses, and decipher ancient codices to unravel the secrets that will lead them to victory.

As the night progresses, a tie seems imminent. The Hellfire Club has countered every attack, every plan, with a precision bordering on the supernatural. But you, with your leading character, are not willing to give up. With a mix of cunning and a bit of luck, you roll the dice for one last masterful play. Silence fills the room as the dice roll, dancing on the edge of the abyss between victory and defeat. Finally, they settle, and the numbers they show are the harbinger of a tide change. Your play has been successful, overcoming the defenses of the Hellfire Club and securing an unexpected triumph.

Eddie, with a look of genuine astonishment, acknowledges the victory of The Sith Order, albeit reluctantly. You, with a smile of satisfaction, accept the Orb of Entwined Destinies, now rightfully yours.

Amidst the euphoria of victory, one of the girls from your group, with a contagious smile and an overflowing energy, suggests an idea that captures everyone's attention. "How about we celebrate with some pizzas? It would be great to relax and enjoy the moment," she says enthusiastically.

The idea is met with a mix of nods and smiles. It is a comfortable and familiar proposition, a perfect way to lower the intensity of the night and simply enjoy each other's company. Everyone, except you and Eddie, seems to agree. The tension of the battle still clings to you, and the idea of sharing a table with Eddie and his club, even in a neutral and friendly environment, is something that you find hard to accept, just like Eddie.

However, aware that rejecting the offer could be seen as poor sportsmanship, both of you reluctantly agree with a gesture of resignation. "Fine, but only because I'm hungry," you murmur, trying to hide your reluctance behind a practical excuse. Eddie nods silently, his serious expression revealing his reluctant agreement.

And so, with victory still fresh and emotions running high, the group sets off to share a meal that promises to be as full of flavor as it is of interesting dynamics.

The night has slipped into a soft twilight when everyone, now relieved of the tension of the game, finds themselves in Eddie's van. The space is filled with laughter and the sound of bottles clinking together. "Cheers!" the group shouts for the sixth time, raising their beers in the air in a toast that has become a ritual.

Eddie's van, with its worn seats, stickers, dirt, and windows displaying the world passing by at high speed, has become a temporary sanctuary of camaraderie. With each new "Cheers!", the barriers between The Sith Order and the Hellfire Club seem to dissolve a little more, erased by the alcohol and the shared joy. Or so it seems...

Eddie's van snakes along the road, a lonely path flanked by the silhouette of trees gently swaying under the starry sky. In the front seats, silence between Eddie and you is a marked contrast to the bustle that reigns in the back, where the rest of the group sings enthusiastically game anthems, interspersed with laughter and the sound of opening beers.

You, with crossed legs and a beer can resting in your hands, get lost in contemplation of the nature that unfolds before your eyes. The moonlight bathes the landscape, transforming each tree and bush into dancing shadows that play hide and seek with each turn of the road.

Eddie, with his attention focused on the road, drives with a slowness that seems to respect the shared silence. His profile stands out against the occasional glow of distant street lamps, and although you are together in the cabin, an abyss of unspoken words stretches between you.

"Hey..." Eddie's voice breaks the silence, a word hanging in the air that seems to wait for permission to continue. He does not look away from the road, as if fearing that a moment of distraction could reveal more than he intends.

You turn your head towards him, an eyebrow arched in a mixture of surprise and curiosity. It is strange, this attempt at conversation. Outside the game, words between you have been as scarce as leaves in winter. You have never crossed more than strategies and challenges, and now, this attempt at dialogue seems as out of place as a barbarian in a library.

The tension between you is palpable, a taut thread that is woven with each kilometer the van devours. What words will follow that "hey"? Will it be an attempt at a truce, or perhaps the prelude to another challenge? Time seems to stand still as you wait for Eddie to continue, and in that moment, the van is not just a moving vehicle, but a space where two rivals might, just maybe, begin to see each other as something more.

"No... no, nothing. Forget it..." he murmurs softly, not taking his eyes off the road, but now looking more tense, sighing.

You decide not to insist, but this time not averting your gaze from those long locks, but discreetly examining them for some kind of response.

Eddie's van glides to a smooth stop in front of a caravan. As he turns off the engine, Eddie's expression transforms. The seriousness that marked his face during the journey gives way to a genuine smile, an open invitation to continue the night in a space that is as much a part of him as the game they both love. "Come on, guys! The party continues at my place!" he exclaims with enthusiasm, his voice resonating with the promise of more laughter and memories to be created. "We can drink as much as we want, and if anyone's interested, there's weed too. My uncle works nights, so we have the place to ourselves."

Friends and friends respond with a chorus of approval, their stumbling steps and complicit smiles sealing the tacit agreement to extend the celebration. One by one, they enter the caravan, a cozy space illuminated by dim lights and adorned with mementos from trips and caps. A bit messy, but cozy.

You, with a mix of caution and curiosity, are the last to cross the threshold. Your eyes meet Eddie's, and for a moment, the outside world fades away. Eddie closes the door behind you, a simple gesture but loaded with meaning. You stand there, still, remembering the unfinished conversation, the words that Eddie left hanging in the air.

Feeling the weight of the night and the looks charged with unanswered questions, you decide to join the group that has settled in the caravan. You grab a few more beers, your hand brushing against the cold surface of the can, and sit at one end of the narrow sofa from where you can observe the scene. Eddie, on the other hand, seems different tonight. The usual arrogance that characterizes him has given way to an unusual stillness, almost reflective. Was defeat the cause of this change? Or was there something deeper behind his silence?

With each passing minute, glances between you meet like swords in a silent duel, full of questions that neither of you dares to voice aloud. After an hour of this game of looks, you feel the need to escape, if only for a moment, from the intensity of the atmosphere.

"Where is the bathroom?" you ask, your voice strangely formal in the relaxed atmosphere. Eddie points to a small hallway at the back, and you get up, navigating the space filled with laughter and conversations until you reach the bathroom.

Inside, you find yourself facing the mirror, your reflection returning an image of someone who seems to be on the border between two worlds. You wet the back of your neck, not wanting to ruin your makeup, and step out, feeling refreshed but still restless.

As you pass through the narrow exit of the bathroom, you collide with the partially open door of Eddie's room, and curiosity gets the better of you. You discreetly peek inside, your eyes scanning the space that is so intimately his. The room is adorned with posters of rock bands, metal, clothes everywhere, magazines scattered on the floor, and action figures of fantasy heroes, a mix of passions that reveal facets of Eddie that you had never considered. On the bed lies an open diary with scribbles and handwritten notes.

Eddie, with his carefree smile, leans against the doorframe, watching you with curiosity as you try to process the mess. "What are you doing here?" he repeats, his voice gentle but clearly amused by your confused expression. The scent of marijuana is evident, and his eyes, although red, gleam with a mischievous spark. He seems not to mind in the least your presence in his personal sanctuary. You feel like an intruder in an unknown world, every object in the room telling a story that only Eddie knows. However, he, with that calm bordering on indifference, gestures for you to enter. "Come, I'll show you my collection," he says casually, and suddenly, the place transforms. What was chaos before now seems like an art gallery, each hanging T-shirt, each vinyl, and each magazine clipping is a piece of his identity. He guides you through his space, narrating anecdotes of concerts and trips, his voice a thread weaving a tapestry of lived experiences.

The initial embarrassment fades away, replaced by fascination at discovering the depth of Eddie's personality. And as he shares his world with you, the messy room becomes a map of his personal universe, a place that, despite the disorder, now makes sense.

As you survey the room with your gaze, something catches your attention and takes your breath away: a proudly displayed B.C. Rich guitar hanging on the wall.

It is a red and shiny beauty, with its aggressive shapes and air of mystery, a piece that any metal lover would desire. Your heart beats with excitement, not only because of the surprise of finding such a treasure in Eddie's room, but because metal is your passion, one of the many things you have in common with Eddie without even knowing it, a detail he is unaware of.

He notices your excitement and, with a mischievous smile, takes down the guitar and hands it to you. "It's all yours, at least for now," he says with a wink. You hold it in your hands with reverence, feeling the weight of the wood and the coldness of the metal.

With shyness but moved by the emotion, you ask Eddie to play something. He shrugs, regretting the lack of an amplifier, but he is not discouraged. With a mischievous smile, he starts "playing" the guitar silently, mimicking the sounds with his mouth. It's a parody, but there is something about his attitude that invites you to play along.

"Come on, guess which song this is," he challenges you, as he moves his fingers in the air and imaginary sounds of a song fill the room. You concentrate, trying to follow the rhythm and melody that Eddie creates. The silent notes seem to come to life, and suddenly, you recognize it. It's 'Time Is Right' by Whitesnake.

Laughter fills the room as you guess it, and Eddie nods approvingly. "I knew you were one of mine, babe," he says, and in that moment, the guitar is not just an instrument, but a bridge between two souls who share a hidden passion for metal and many other things.

A blush creeps up your cheeks, an unexpected warmth that takes you by surprise. The word "babe" resonates in your ears, a term so casual and yet, loaded with an intimacy you did not expect. It feels as if you are inside the pages of one of those erotic books your mother used to read in secret, where the protagonists, initially at odds, end up wrapped in a story of love and rough sex.

Eddie's gaze has become more intense, his eyes no longer just reflecting the reddish glow of a pot smoker, but also a different glow, deeper, provoked by your presence. There is something about the way he looks at you that makes you feel like you are the only person in the world at that moment, but at the same time, as if he is undressing you.

You find yourself returning his gaze, unable to look away from his eyes. There is a connection, an unspoken understanding that seems to transcend words. And while a part of you wants to laugh at the situation, at how absurd it is to feel like a character in a pornographic novel, you cannot deny the electricity in the air, that spicy tension that hangs between the two of you.

Eddie takes a step towards you, his proximity overwhelming, and although he does not say anything more, he doesn't need to. Words are unnecessary when the looks speak for themselves. And in that instant, in that messy room that smells of marijuana and freedom, you understand that sometimes, real life can be as surprising and exciting as the stories hidden within the pages of a book.

After that moment, the room seems smaller, as if the walls had closed in to witness the silence shared between you. You decide to break the tension with a nervous smile and a change of subject. "Hey... what did you want to ask me before, you know, in the van?" you ask, stuttering slightly as you feel Eddie's scent filling your nostrils.

Eddie leaned against the threshold of the door, just inches away, watching your lips adorned with an intense crimson and your lined eyes attentively. "Ah, that..." he wondered, feigning forgetfulness. "I think I wanted to say something about Dungeons and Dragons, right?" he inquired with irony, biting his lip as he laughed and crossed his arms.

None of this compared to the fantasies you had with Eddie. Let's admit it, you had imagined countless similar scenarios, all related to the game and its protagonist, Eddie. You had wished for him to touch you in the same way he caresses his guitar. You wanted to be that fucking guitar.

"I don't think I want to talk about that right now..." you whispered, slowly moving closer to Eddie, who raised an eyebrow and smiled widely, catching your hint.

"Well then, if you don't want to listen to me, why don't you shut me up?" he whispered near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He grabbed your belt, holding your short denim skirt, forcing you to be pressed against him. "I said, why don't you shut me up..."

Eddie played dirty even outside of his character. He wanted you to take the initiative, perhaps to mock you or further feed his ego, but you wouldn't allow that to happen. With confidence, you ran your tongue over your lips and approached his neck, whispering, "I don't plan on silencing you. I enjoy listening to you and narrating each campaign..." This excited him, caressing your shoulder and getting closer, causing your breasts to press against him, eliciting a reaction in his groin. "Then, shut me up. I know you've wanted to since you met me," you whispered, trying to provoke him, with some success.

He responded by pushing you against the wall, trapping you between it and his body, placing his thigh between yours and gripping your waist tightly, feeling the coldness of his rings against your bare skin. "What I've wanted since I met you is to fuck you on the Harken map, so that your screams scare away the undead lurking there..." he muttered with a deep voice, softly kissing your collarbone, causing a sigh to escape your lips. With captivating slowness, Eddie guides his lips to yours, each movement deliberate and filled with anticipation. When they finally meet, the kiss is like an explosion of fire, burning and passionate. His lips sink into yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless, and his tongue boldly slides in to explore every corner of your mouth from the very first moment.

As your lips entwine in a sensual dance, his hands find your breasts with a firmness that surprises and excites you at the same time. The pressure of his hands cupping your breasts sends a wave of pleasure through your body, making you involuntarily shudder at the intense and unfamiliar sensation. You never expected this reaction, but you find yourself completely captivated by the desire that Eddie awakens in you, leaving you craving more of his passionate touch.

Eddie suddenly stops, his fingers noticing the absence of the bra he expected to find. A mischievous spark shines in his eyes as he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and desire. With a naughty smile on his lips, he whispers in your ear in a seductive tone, "Wow, looks like the girl comes with nothing...," murmuring with a hoarse voice, his warm breath sending shivers down your naked skin. His comment, though bold, is imbued with an irresistible sensuality that makes you blush and feel even more drawn to him. It feels like you're in a scene taken straight from one of those forbidden novels your mother used to find in the library, but this time, you're the protagonist, enveloped in the heat of shared desire with Eddie.

With expert dexterity, Eddie deepens the kiss, intensifying each brush of his lips against yours. As his tongue explores yours with unrestrained passion, his thigh slides and exerts pressure between yours, finding its way under your denim skirt, lifting it almost completely, hitting just that sensitive spot that makes your whole body react instantly.

"Mhmmm..." an involuntary moan escapes your lips as you feel the perfectly placed pressure of his thigh against you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You feel the need to ride that leg. You were very wet at that moment, so the touch was making you even wetter.

He moves it with precision between yours, creating a delicious friction that awakens sensations that make you gasp against his lips. Each movement is calculated, designed to provoke maximum pleasure, as his thigh finds that sensitive spot on your body, sending waves of excitement through you.

"You've got me so hard..." with a throaty whisper, he makes you aware of the effect you have on him, sending a thrill of excitement down your spine. His warm breath against your lips only increases the intensity of the moment. You feel your heart pounding hard as you let yourself be carried away by the passion swirling around you. Then, with seductive skill, he leans slightly down, his strong hands gripping the bottom of your thighs to open you up and wrap around his waist. The change in position allows his bulge to press directly against your underwear, which is exposed by the previous lifting of your skirt. A wave of desire surges through your being as you feel his prominence brushing directly against your sensitive and swollen clit, sending sparks of pleasure that seem to electrify every fiber of your being.

The movements of his hips are precise and deliberate, each delicious brush torturous while engulfing you deeper into the abyss of pleasure. The sounds of your ragged breathing blend with the seductive whispers and soft moans escaping between hot kisses. You are completely at the mercy of the passion Eddie unleashes in you, lost in the whirlwind of overwhelming sensations that threaten to consume you completely.

The barely contained moan escapes your lips between kisses as you feel Eddie's gentle hip movement, a movement that sends you soaring to the heights of pleasure. Still with your thighs tightly wrapped around his hips, you give in to a wild and passionate kiss, with an intensity that defies any limit.

The kiss becomes a whirlwind of unabated passion, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as you let yourself be carried away by the overwhelming sensations. Amidst the heat of the moment, you feel Eddie release one of your legs, changing the dynamics of the position and making you feel his bulge even more. Now, in this new position, the contact with his clothed cock is even more evident, causing you to instinctively arch your hips towards him, seeking more contact, more friction. You feel his hands grip your buttocks firmly, aggressively pressing you against his jeans, as if he is eager to feel you even closer.

The brushes and hip movements become increasingly intense, a symphony of pleasure that seems to have no end. You are completely immersed in the moment.

"Mmhm... fuck..." Between moans escaping your lips, accompanied by the sensual movements of your hips, Eddie suddenly stops, only to turn off the bedroom light and then guides you, still with your body on top of his, to his disheveled bed. He places you on your back on the tousled sheets, and positions himself above you, burning desire reflected in his gaze as he begins to explore your neck with hot kisses and licks. Each touch of his tongue against your skin awakens an electric sensation that makes you tremble with pleasure. His expert hands play with your nipples from inside your top, squeezing and teasing them while his thighs continue to exert delicious pressure on your intimate area, making you gasp with each movement, holding onto his back.

Slowly, your rival moves down your body with controlled impatience, licking and kissing your abdomen eagerly before quickly lifting your top and leaving you exposed before him. His lips find your breasts, and he kisses and licks them with devotion, as if they are the most delicious thing he has ever tasted. His long hair sometimes gets tangled in his face, but when you start gently tugging on it for pleasure, he moves away, leaving behind an incredibly enticing scene that makes you arch your hips forward instinctively.

While Eddie continues to lavish attention on your breasts, his hands begin to explore above your underwear with his ring finger, stroking gently from top to bottom. "Do you like it like this?" he asks between kisses and licks, asking you with a husky voice if you're enjoying yourself, establishing an intimate and desire-filled dialogue that only increases the sexual tension between you. "Or is it better like this?" he increases the speed of his touch.

Your silence prompts Eddie to grab your chin firmly, his fingers exerting a dominant and sexual pressure as he forces you to look into his eyes. When you finally respond to his question with an intense gaze, he slowly releases you, going back down to give attention to your body. His lips find your panties, and he kisses and licks them eagerly, soaking them with his saliva mixed with your own excited wetness.

With precise and deliberate movements, Eddie slowly pulls down your panties, placing soft kisses on your inner thigh as he slides them down your legs. Once he has removed your panties, his eyes meet your exposed, naked, and wet pussy, and he can't help but feel his cock throbbing with an unprecedented intensity, eager to satisfy the burning desire between them. You feel incredibly exposed under his heated gaze, but Eddie sees you as a work of art, a sight that excites him to the limit. Without wasting time, Eddie gives you a generic lick to your wet pussy, spreading your lips with his fingers to access your exposed clit directly. An overwhelming moan escapes your lips at the wave of pleasure that courses through your body, but Eddie quickly covers your mouth, whispering that you can't moan to avoid being heard in the common area where the others are.

With a mischievous smile on his face, Eddie realizes that the loud music has concealed any sound that would have revealed their activities in the bedroom. With your mouth still covered, he delves into the task with renewed eagerness, licking and sucking your clit with an intensity that makes your body arch in response. Each suck and each lick sends waves of pleasure through you, taking you to the edge of ecstasy over and over again. Your hips move instinctively in response to the overwhelming pleasure, but Eddie firmly controls them, maintaining a rhythm that takes you closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure. With an expert hand, he begins caressing your abdomen, slowly descending until reaching your clit, parting his mouth for a moment to touch it with his fingers before inserting two of them without any prior preparation.

The sudden stimulus causes your eyes to roll back, and your thighs tighten with force from the pleasure that overwhelms you, arching your back and moving your hips towards the direction of the long-haired person. In a short time, Eddie goes back to action, losing himself between your thighs as he continues moving his fingers with unwavering determination.

He continues like this for a few minutes, not stopping for a moment, until you feel that you're about to reach climax. You grab his hair with incredible strength, almost burying your fingers in its roots, urging him to continue, feeling like you're about to burst in his mouth. But just as you're on the edge of orgasm, he pulls away from you, leaving a thread of saliva mixed with your wetness as a separation between his mouth and your pussy, leaving you in a state of uncontrollable anticipation and desire.

Eddie, eager to satisfy his burning desire, hastily fumbles with his zipper and unleashes his erect cock, ready for action. Eddie's cock, although of average size, has a peculiarity that sets it apart: a curved shape that gives it a unique and distinctive appearance. Its thickness is notable, and the veins that run along its length add texture to its look. The skin that covers it has a pink tone, with a reddish hue indicating the excitement that engulfs it. A slightly glistening liquid adorns its tip. It is an image that reflects virility and desire, a promise of intense pleasure about to be unleashed.

"How does this look, huh?" he moves it, noticeably sensitive, gently rubbing it against your clit, giving you a mischievous look as if he's playing a game with you. Without warning, after lightly masturbating it, he quickly and decisively inserts it into you, completely surprising you and leaving you breathless. "Mhmmm..." he sighs deeply, as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, arching his head backward. From the very first second, he begins to thrust into you with a dizzying rhythm, penetrating you deeply over and over again. You are overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure that engulfs you, unable to articulate a single word as you completely surrender to the wild thrusts of the guy. Each thrust hits your insides with overpowering force, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

Despite the initial discomfort from the lack of preparation, you find yourself immersed in a whirlwind of sensations that make you lose track of time and space.

You writhe under him, unable to hold back the moans that escape your lips as you completely surrender to the frenzied pleasure that consumes you. Although it hurts, you can't help but enjoy every thrust, every touch of his skin against yours ignites a burning fire inside you.

He grabs you by the neck with a firm but dominant hand, stopping any sound that could escape your lips. His warm breath brushes against your ear as he whispers with a husky and authoritative voice, "Shut up." The words, loaded with desire and determination, send a shiver down your spine, leaving you breathless and obedient to his command. You are completely surrendered to him, unable to do anything but obey his orders as you let yourself be carried away by the frenzied passion that burns between you. The orgasm that you had almost experienced less than a minute ago begins to resonate through your body again, but the intensity of Eddie's thrusts makes you feel like you're on the verge of a great climax. You are completely overwhelmed by the avalanche of sensations that envelop you, unable to resist the tide of pleasure that drags you into an endless abyss of ecstasy. Your increasingly intense and uncontrolled moans blend with the background music, creating a symphony of pleasure and ecstasy that fills the room. Eddie, releasing his hand from your neck, begins to hit your thigh and butt with a mixture of desire and unbridled passion. As he continues to thrust into you with force, his lascivious words fill the air, whispering in your ear with a deep and seductive voice.

He tells you how much he has wanted to fuck that pussy of yours, expressing his most intimate desires with an exciting crudeness that makes you shiver with pleasure. He calls you a slut with a tone of desire and adoration, celebrating your sexuality and the way you grip his cock with every thrust. Those words, charged with lust and desire, only increase the intensity of the moment, pushing you closer to climax with each word that comes out of his mouth.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, every thrust of Eddie sending waves of pleasure through your body. He perceives it too, thanks to the way your pussy grips his cock, and he lets out a guttural grunt of satisfaction. You're on the edge of the abyss, about to let the ecstasy completely envelop you, while Eddie's lascivious moans and words push you towards the most glorious climax you've ever experienced

You feel the ecstasy completely enveloping you, a overwhelming wave of pleasure that shakes you to your core. Your walls contract tightly around Eddie's cock, squeezing with an intensity that makes him moan with pleasure. "Damn, you're so tight..."

Your body trembles uncontrollably, your eyes rolling back in your head as a guttural groan escapes from your lips, louder and more heartbreaking than ever before.

However, before you can fully recover from your orgasm, Eddie aggressively grabs you by the throat again, his expression a wild mix of concentration, excitement, and a hint of anger. With notable abruptness, he continues fucking with a renewed ferocity, as if taking revenge for something, but this time he has absolute control. The sensation of being taken with such force awakens a wild fire inside you, a overflowing passion that mixes with pain and pleasure in a symphony of indescribable sensations. You are completely immersed in the erotic game between you and Eddie, each thrust taking you further into the abyss of shared desire.

Thegame is now tied, each one taking the lead at different moments. You feel Eddie moaning with an unusual intensity, sensing that he's about to reach climax. You want to warn him not to come inside, but your throat is blocked by Eddie's firm hand, keeping you from articulating any words. A slight shiver runs through his body when he perceives your attempt to communicate your desire, but it's too late.

With a few final shaky thrusts, Eddie gives in to the avalanche of pleasure, releasing his hot and trembling liquid inside you. You accept his release without reserve, watching Eddie's expression as he does so. His face shows an unusual vulnerability, with arched eyebrows and a lost look somewhere in the room. His slightly parted lips release his moans of pleasure, and his hands grip your hips tightly, as if clinging to you for support.

After Eddie releases his liquid inside you, he slowly retreats and lies down by your side. Both of you remain staring at the ceiling, and suddenly, a nervous and uncontrollable laughter overwhelms you. Eddie looks at you strangely and asks what's happening. Between laughs, you respond that you just imagined that all of this was one of his campaigns, a kind of joke or experiment designed to test your limits and reactions. The surprise on Eddie's face turns into a knowing smile when he realizes that you have disarmed the tension of the moment with your humorous comment. Both of you give in to laughter, releasing the accumulated tension and sharing a moment of complicity after the unrestrained passion you just experienced together. It's an unexpected and light ending to an intimate and passionate encounter.

[specialagentartemis]

tell me more about classic filk i know a few songs but never got deep into it

Heck YEAH

"Filk" is music (often but not always folk music-style, often but not always song parodies to the tune of famous pre-existing songs) about sci-fi, fantasy, and other fannish topics. Filk circles are popular events at science fiction conventions, and that's really where the genre started. The word "filk" actually arose from a typo in a convention program once, and people just rolled with it ever since!

Some of the most iconic albums in the filk world are the anthology albums "Minus Ten And Counting" (songs about space exploration and the real-life space program), "Carmen Miranda's Ghost" (songs about sci-fi space shenanigans and space ghosts), and "Finity's End: Songs of the Station Trade" (songs set in the world of CJ Cherryh's Alliance-Union novels, and my personal favorite. I've never read any of CJ Cherryh's books, but these songs paint such a vivid world.) "Space Heroes and Other Fools" is another big one, it's more hit-or-miss for me but it's iconic. Other really good and foundational ones are "Divine Intervention" by Julia Ecklar, "Avalon is Risen" by Leslie Fish, and "We Are Who We Are" by Vixy & Tony.

I lean more towards sci-fi and space than fantasy, but fantasy and paganism are huuuugely popular filk topics too.

Some of the most popular names to look into include Leslie Fish (intensely prolific, barely a fraction of her work is on any streaming or music service), Julia Ecklar (famous for her "ose," the filk-world word for sad songs - because they're "ose, more-ose, and even more-ose), Juanita Coulson, Kristoph Klover, Vic Tyler (who just recently died :( rest in peace), Duane Elms, Kathy Mar, Bob Kanefsky, Alexander James (trans, with lots of filk under his previous name as well), Vixy & Tony, and Seanan McGuire. (I like Seanan McGuire's filk music better than her books, hah.) Some other great ones include Cat Faber (most acapella), Astrisoni, The PDX Broadsides, Kari Maaren, and Sassafrass (also mostly acapella. Includes Ada Palmer). Heather Dale, Tom Lehrer, and Jonathan Coulton are kind of honorary filkers too haha.

The best place to get the ones from 80s and 90s cassettes are on the Internet Archive or Youtube; a few filkers who are more currently active have their stuff on Bandcamp.

And I'll leave you with a few of my Favorite Ever filk songs:

"Sam Jones" by CJ Cherryh and Leslie Fish

"Pushin' the Speed of Light" by Julia Ecklar and Anne Prather

"Chickasaw Mountain" by Leslie Fish

"Fire in the Sky" by Jordan Kare

"The Phoenix" by Julia Ecklar

"Freedom of the Snow" by Leslie Fish

"Burn it Down" by Vixy & Tony

"Hope Eyrie" by Leslie Fish, or this Minus Ten And Counting version

"Rocket Rider's Prayer" by Kristoph Klover, Ernie Mansfield, and Cecilia Eng

"Dawson's Christian" by Duane Elms, performed by Vic Tyler or Vixy & Tony

"Somebody Will" by Sassafrass

"Chances & Choices & Fortunes & Fates" by Astrisoni

... my tastes lean sentimental and ose but I swear there's a lot of very funny filk out there too

"Never Set the Cat on Fire" by Frank Hayes (a famous one)

"Banned From Argo" by Leslie Fish (an INFAMOUS one)

"Don't Push That Button" by Duane Elms and Larry Warner

"No More SF Cons" by Juanita Coulson

"One More Ose Song" by B. J. Willinger

everything Bob Kanefsky writes

[accio-victuuri]

two years ago, i mentioned how i’ll be adding stuff to the devil timeline universe lol. this is part of that (sort of) and it is the type of cpn that will make so/os and other cpfs roll their eyes. but if you are into galaxy brain cpns & fake stuff then this is for you.

anyway, this is about the movie Crystal Sky of Yesterday. one of the characters (Qi Jingxuan) was voiced/dubbed by WYB. the film is uploaded here with english subs if you are interested.

story about dreams, friendship, family and first love in their youthful days. Tu Xiaoyi, Yao Zhetian and Qi Jingxuan are high school students in a small town, Lanxi, in southern China. This is a story about dreams, friendship, family and first love in their youthful days. ☁️

it’s a coming of age story, the characters are about to take the gaokao and are thinking about what they want to be when they grow up. tu xiaoyi meets the infamous qi jing xuan and they form a friendship that will stay with both of them for years to come.

i will be mentioning some similarities and why this is a queer film and the last part is the fanfiction aspect. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

the movie starts with Tu Xiaoyi in the year 2018 ( tho the majority of the film is in 1999 when they were in high school ) , all grown up and back in his hometown of Lanxi. he resigned from his job as a manga artist because he wants to pursue making his own story. looking at the character with the glasses and the fact that he is an artist immediately reminds us of XZ.

and it’s common knowledge that XZ has his own company with his friends ( design studio ) before he decided to enter the entertainment industry. so he had a similar story of sorts, working at an office then branching out on his own. you can also say that him leaving his “job” to become a “singer” is the same thing that the character is doing. he is following his dreams.

2018 was also the year they became closer— working on the Untamed together. A reunion of sorts. so that year being mentioned in the movie as when the MC goes back is an interesting coincidence. The source material for this was serialized in 2011 ( when WYB joined the circle ) & movie started production 2015 ( when XZ entered the circle ) 👀👀👀

The MC also likes to draw blue sky and white clouds + paper planes. two things that are a symbol in the bjyx fandom. not because we made up the connection, it was there. they both showed it to us so the cpn was so easy to make.

Qi Jingxian is someone who dreams of becoming a pilot. At some point, WYB said he wants to become a pilot ( during TTXS and tbh he can do anything he wants lol ). He starred in a film where he is a pilot too, Lei Yu in Born to Fly.

During the promo of the film, WYB posted on Douyin. It’s his photo as a kid and the transitions to him as Lei Yu. Idk if this is a direct way of him saying he dreamed of being a pilot, and now he technically gets to be one but the implication is v strong.

coincidence too that in the movie, QJX mentioned that his parents said he wanted to be a pilot and he had a photo. the photo is kinda like WYB’s.

it’s hilarious to me how WYB’s character is so like him. there is a sort of love triangle here cause the MC ( Tu Xiaoyi ) likes a girl. Qi Jingxian who views MC as a good friend knows this and helps him out in his own way. However the girl likes Qi Jingxian who is not even thinking about romance lol. He just wants to become a pilot and get away. 😂😂😂😂 the MC saw them talking tho and sort of holding each other so he went on angst mode. this brought some distance between him and QJX too.

years later, the MC is making a manga about their childhood and the panel shown is him with Qi Jingxian. Not the girl. 🤡🤡🤡🤡 the main page of the manga too — notice how prominent Qi Jingxian is?

the “reveal” part of this movie is giving some serious 🏳️‍🌈! i don’t know how anyone can miss it. earlier in the film , the girl gives the MC a “magazine” and inside it says “try your best.” It’s because of this that he finally decides to make mangas. but it was revealed that Qi Jingxian asked the girl to give it to MC. to make it seem like it was from her 😭😭😭

Right then I knew, from that moment i knew, the magazine Qi Jing Xian gave me opened the way for me to go make mangas in Shenzhen. I think if that summer would have been longer, maybe i would have said “see you”. If at that moment i said “i will see you” then would it have been possible to see each other again?

it’s so freakin sad 🥹🥹🥹

and the mention of that “summer”. the time he spent with his friends, but most of all Qi Jing Xian and how he wishes it was longer. ugh. it’s like the summer when CQL was filmed.

the film ends with the manga being published and a pilot picking it up from a store. this is Qi Jing Xian who made his dream come true. then his voice is played, when they were young, he was teaching the MC to play a game and in return MC must write a manga about them. and he did. it’s an open ending of sorts. they both became what they promised to be when they were young. as a viewer, we hope that they will reunite.

on a more serious note, an important message in the film is: “Whatever you do, I just want you to move forward. Try your best. Jiayou!”

this is something that the two of them always say. or a form of it. that when you find something you like, work hard for it. and that if you find someone special to you, you will shine for them. you tend to become a better version of yourself.

during the promotion of the film, we got some clues too:

p1 when they posted about the release date the kadian is 38 which is zhan bo. p2 is yibo’s weibo post for the film and the first one is the photo of the MC. the rest is his character. the caption is literally i hope you can meet qi jing xian in your youth, but the first one got cropped to show the MC and the whole photo is QJX and the MC. the kadian also, i will love you forever.

the production team weirdly enough, posted with reference to XZ. because he worked with both productions.

the official weibo of the movie was also leaning towards the whole 🏳️‍🌈 support cause they shared fanarts of the TXY x QJX pairing. Also the way the tag “QJX likes TXY” was popular. 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

so now we have come to the fanfiction part and why this could be part of the devil timeline. the question is why was WYB so passionate about this project. he was finalizing this in 2018 as well, along with the other hundreds of things he was doing that time. was there a personal connection? probably. they might have known each other before and have communicated — which is the whole premise of devil timeline. XZ liked the manga and recommended it to Bobo and that’s why he took the project. Maybe they both loved the message of it and chasing your dreams. Maybe they both understood what was really going on between the two male leads too. ✌🏼

that’s all. take what you want this information. 💛

[cadence-the-hypnotic-floret]

The HDG Storm Scale

Hey, any fellow magic nerds? Probably. In Magic: The Gathering design, there's this useful heuristic tool called the "storm scale". It's essentially a scale that defines how likely it is for keywords to come back in future sets, from 1 (evergreen mechanics) to 10 (Probably never making that mistake again). The scale itself is named after its peak, Storm, an infamously broken mechanic.

I had the idea of doing that with HDG Tropes. Obviously, I speak only for myself, and I threw this together in like 20 minutes, but I think I'm on to something.

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1-3: Evergreen tropes. Things that will probably show up in most HDG stories, and are very safe ground to tread.

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1. Non-con (individual or systemic, it's in there), tentacles/vines, hypnosis, Disability

2. Basically any mainstream kink, Intox kink, drugging

3. Piss, CGL, ABDL, Vore, a variety of other unusual kinks made much more doable by the setting

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4-6: Slightly Spicy. Things that are definitely possible in HDG, but which will want to be handled with some care.

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4. Sexual Assault (HDG genre typical), Addiction, Gaslamping

5. Character Death, Identity Death, Kidnapping

6. Sexual Assault (Played straight), Euthanasia (Class-Os)

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7-9: Watch Out! These are elements that have been done well in stories, but are famously landmines liable to break your story, the setting, or both!

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7. Floret Endangerment

8. Affinification, reference to a character's abusive childhood

9. Mass Death.

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10: Just don't! These are just axiomatically not okay in HDG. Yes, these are all things I've seen in fics... just very rarely good ones.

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10: an affini intentionally abusing or abandoning their floret, an affini intentionally killing another xenosophont, feral xenosophonts killing an affini

(11: Underaged characters. Seriously. We just don't do that here.)

A few quick notes.

HDG is fundamentally fiction. It is a setting made up of stories, with a specific tone and vibe. Certain things will work better or worse within that story environment. The question of "can this happen in this world" is not actually the most important one. The more important question is "what story do I want to tell with this". A lot of the most famous stories in the setting go hard on difficult subjects, because they had something important to say about it. But... you should have something to say about it!

To take up the example of death: there are lots of great stories about grief, or about recovering from the grief of losing a loved one. People die. Sometimes suddenly and tragically. But when it comes to mass death... Removing the question of whether it could happen, what HDG story do you want to tell where countless sophonts dying is an important plot point? Are you sure it's not better served as original sci-fi, or fanfiction in a different setting?

To date, I have seen mass death done well in... I wanna say almost one story. One Analyst's Opinion earns this moment, and it's a powerful, and deeply horrifying moment that mostly works. Even then, I personally have (literary) issues with how it was handled, and it wreaks havoc on the Affini-Rinan contact timeline if taken with the seriousness it deserves.

EDIT: I have been reminded that No Gods No Masters features mass death and does it really, really well. The overall point still largely stands, I think.

[luizdominguesfan]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7MQFhTMI2-g

Programa "Eu Recomendo, com Luiz Domingues"/Edição 31 - Webradio Orra Meu - Versão YouTube

[sthenoaloraquest]

My favorite chapter writing blurbs from all three books.

Fourth Wing (other than the infamous A dragon without its rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead)

You're all cowards.

-The Last Words of Fen Riorson (Redacted)

It's simple and straight to the point. It fits for how the reader is feeling against the leadership of Navarre.

Iron Flame

Most generals dream of dying in service to their kingdom. But you know me better than that, my love. When I fall, it will be for one reason only: to protect our children.

-Recovered, Unsent Correspondence of General Lilith Sorrengail (⚠️Onyx Storm Spoilers coming up⚠️)

This had me tearing up for Lilith and more so after OS. The fact that she still writes to Asher after his death is heartbreaking to me. She still sees him as her safe place after what he attempted to do to Violet. Even though she was the cold exterior parent she loved her children more than her title.

Onyx Storm (Which I have two)

...I recommend demanding asking for a new Provincial Commitment covering our current conflict. The provinces will never agree after the rise in conscription rates. My adivce: do not anger Tyrrendor's duke, who now commands the largest portion of our army. Screw this. I hate my job.

-Unsent, Drafted Correspondence of Colonel Agatha Mayfair, Royal Archvist

The end of it is just relatable 😂. I can't begin to count the amount of times I've said that about a job I disliked.

Fuck you. My daughter and I will meet Malek with clean consciences. Will you and your daughters be able to say the same when they come for you?

-The Last Words of Tracila Cardulo (Redacted)

Imogen's venom and badass self definitely came from her momma. I started tearing up and then what happens to Quinn... the knife slid down to the hilt for me. 😭

[a-spes]

T H E D O G ' S F A L L - One shot.

Words count - 5,2k.

Tags & Warnings - mob boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, angst, harm/comfort, manipulation, mentions of blood/past abuses, human trafficking.

Summary - Anyone that can beat her in a fight will earn her, and Natasha intends to be the one, working hard to get what she thinks is hers. A dog can't fight for eternity, can it?

Moodboard here.

N/A - It's the longest os I've wrote so far, took me a lot of time but it's enventually here so I really hope you'll enjoy it! If it's the case, don't hesitate to let me know by interacting with the post :)

It is at the back of that popular night club that everything is happening, where no one can see your distress except the one that enjoys it, where everyone is too busy having fun to pay attention to the veritable purpose of this building. On a dark corner that light never reaches, a man is guarding the most important secret of that place, and very few are the people he lets through; only rich and influential men and women get their ticket for this special spectacle that takes place here every night.

Down there, the loud music is replaced by the shouts of excited men that makes her sigh; why do they have to scream like animals? If she gets a few glances, no one dares to say anything as the infamous Black Widow is walking through the crowd to get to her place. She has blood on her back, people are whispering, some from admiration, others from fear, but no one stays indifferent - how could they? One of the most important mafia bosses of the city, but also one of the most discreet, is here. She has her reputation and, even if she is rarely seen, she is well-known, so none of the men dares to protest when she decides to take place in their lodge, chasing them out of the room. 

From here, she has a perfect view of the cage and, most importantly, of the Dog.

It is obvious that there is no way out of the ring, that you are trapped in that cage until one of these men’s victory - or your last breath - but, somehow, you still believe that defeating them will lead you out of that basement. So, not caring about how many of them are daring to step in your cage, you beat them, one by one. You watch the man you just defeated being escorted out of the cage so the next one could take his place - it gives you a few seconds to catch your breath. 

The world is spinning, you can’t even see the faces of your opponents, but you don’t give up. Even if the only thing you want is to curl up in the corner, crying for your mom, you can’t. You can’t because it will mean giving them your life. No, you need to be stronger than them, to pretend that you don’t feel the pain inflicted by their blows, to pretend that you are not bothered by the metallic taste of the blood in your mouth, they need to believe you could do that all night. But you are not foolish and you know damn well that you won’t last long. 

It is hard to focus on anything, even on breathing, because you are overwhelmed by a crew you can't even see, blinded by the lights; you are the spectacle. They all came to see the Dog fighting, hoping to witness its fall. They are shouting, mostly insults in Russian, whistling and clapping everytime something exciting is happening during a fight, but it won’t be enough to save you from that place. 

Oh, at first, they were cheering for you, but it slowly changed, people getting tired of seeing your pretty face every night. They thought you would be easy to break and hated to be proven wrong, and you perfectly know that the stakes have changed. It is no longer about giving them what they want, entertainment, it is purely about surviving and you noticed how the attitude of your opponents changed over the weeks, becoming more aggressive.

You were a champion, now you are just a little bitch they need to get rid of. 

The organization that threw you in that rat hole understood that as much as you did and, tonight, they changed the rules. Tonight, it'll be only you against the world, until they are tired of it. No break, no help, everytime one leaves, the next one is already stepping in the ring, as an endless torture. 

Tonight, she will be one of them. She has been looking at you hungrily since the first time she came here, and she knows that you will be hers by the end of the night, after all she came just for that, to take you home.

Even if she is here every night, you never had a chance to notice the woman. She was always sitting in the last row, observing you from her balcony, where she is hidden by the shadow, but she noticed you for sure. The time she came, it was only because of one of her associates that wanted to meet here specifically, she never left since. From the moment her eyes landed on you, she was unable to think about anything else, the way you were looking so innocent but so feroce at the same time got her heart. 

She sent a few of her best men, knowing they would lose, as a test, waiting for the moment it would be her turn to enter the cage. She never expected them to win and she would have killed them if they had the audacity to: she is the one that is supposed to defeat you, the only one that has the right to own you. The urge to possess you only grew stronger over the weeks, being deeper every time she came here, she wants to see you as you are breaking under her effect, to control every aspect of your life. 

So she patiently waited for the right time to come, she always liked a bit of challenge anyway, having a soft spot for things that are hard to get. She worked hard to get you, spending weeks observing every of your movements: she learned how you are fighting and your habits, she learned to read your body and face as if she was on your mind, and that’s the difference with the others: if you are a game for them, for her, you are a goal she must reach at all costs. 

As soon as your eyes laid on her, you knew she wouldn’t back up, somehing in the way she stepped in the cage already made all the difference. It is her confidence. It is the smirk on her face, a cocky one. It is the way her hands are stuck in her pockets while she is observing you. It is the slight sigh as she gets rid of her leather jacket. It is all these details that give the impression that she is just here to settle a formality, already certain of her victory.

Even the way she is moving has something unrealist. Every step, every look, is calculated and almost imperceptible. Usually, you would step forward, ready to fight even before they entered the cage to show them you are not afraid, but this time? You can’t help but instinctively step back when she enters. The movement was slight, as you were already leaning the grid but she noticed it, the way her aura is pressuring you, and she loves it.

As soon as the door was closed, your fate was sealed.

It all happened really fast because she knew exactly what to do, she prepared for that moment. You quickly realized that you were right: the woman had nothing in common with the men you were fighting against earlier, you never stood a chance to win that fight. The realization is more painful than the blows she is currently throwing at you. Every punch you try to land, she knows exactly how to dodge it. As if she was on your mind, she knows exactly where to hit to get you weak, stealing your breath and your strenght, having you on your knees then laying on the floor in less than a few minutes. 

At first, you tried to get up, to fight, but she is faster than you are, and wiser, and stronger, and more trained. She is being pretty much better in everything. Soon your vision is so blurry that you can’t see anything, you are feeling so weak that even moving your fingers or keeping your eyes open is just too much. 

"Stay still,” she quietly ordered when she noticed you were struggling against her grip - she had you pinned down on the ground by pressing her foot on your back and grabbed your hair to lift a bit your head. "You're going to be mine no matter what, so don't make things harder for yourself, honey." 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

You hear the countdown but, this time, it is not your victory that is announced, it is hers. As soon as her name is shouted by the crew, her grip releases your hair but you simply don't have the strength to move, the news leaves a void in your chest. The pain, but mostly this feeling of emptiness, is keeping you frozen in place. She owns you, and this simple idea is sending shivers through your whole body. You don't realize yet what is happening, thinking that, maybe, it is just a cruel joke on you, and it explains the lack of reaction when she asks you to get up; she needs to grab your arm and lift to get you on your feet. 

You stumble, fighting the urge to vomit. Your brain can barely process what is happening, especially when you realize that your feet are not touching the ground anymore. In her arms, you are nothing more than a rag doll, silent and motionless, barely having the energy to keep your eyes open. 

"She is not for sale,” she coldly said, her voice bringing you back to reality. As she was on her way to get out of the night club, some men were offering the woman outrageous amounts of money in the hope of getting you, they all backed up once she coldly glanced at them. "No one will ever take you away from me, do you hear that, love? You are safe as long as you’re with me," she then whispered in your ears. 

You drift into unconsciousness as soon as the car starts, despite the woman that kept begging you to keep your eyes open, the way she was cadling you not helping. You just had enough time to notice the men sitting at the front of the black van, both armed and intimidating, before falling into darkness. 

You opened your eyes again when the car stopped in an alley. It is late, the sun gave its throne to the moon a long time ago and, even if you can't tell what time it is, you know it is the middle of the night. How many hours did you spend down there, fighting for your life? The question makes you sick because the only answer is too many. All these hours for nothing because, no matter how hard you triee, you loose. You were never supposed to win their twisted game, you never got a chance and you slowly realize that the promised freedom was just a lure. For weeks you believed them, you played along their rules, thinking it was the only way to get your life back.

And here you are, in the arms of your new owner, a woman you know nothing about but that now has every rights on you, even if you will live depends exclusively on the redhead's choices. The fear twists your stomach, the humiliation clenches your throat and the exhaustion makes your eyes burning, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you repeat in your head, but you don't know for how long you will be able to keep your tears for yourself.  

The woman is not looking at you at all, she is concentrating on not falling as she is walking to the house, barely seeing where her feet are landing. You, however, can't help but observe every detail of her face, noticing how serious her expression is. You are trying to guess how your life is going to be by her side, but you can't, she is a complete mystery and you hate that.

A part of you wants to go back in that basement. It may have been a living hell, but you had your habits, you knew how to survive, now you will have to learn everything again. 

You notice that two armed persons are guarding the front door and, when you pass by them, they exchange a few words in Russian. You can't understand a word of what they are saying, but you guess they are greeting the woman, beside some insults, you don't know a lot and only because that's how they used to call you.

The inside of the penthouse is exactly as you imagined it: expensive, tidy and minimalist. You never felt comfortable in that kind of environment, it always reminded you that you will never have a place in that sphere, you are nothing more than their animal, a dog that does everything they want. 

Once inside, you almost expected her to drop you on the floor but she didn't. Her grip is strong, as if she doesn't want to let you go, that's because she is scared too. She exchanged a few words in Russian with a woman before heading upstairs. 

Your eyes closed because of the light, you don't see much more of the house, nor of where you are going. You can feel that she climbs the stairs, takes a few turns and walks through a door before she eventually lets you go. It is with care that she sits you on the floor of the bathroom. 

"Here we are," she whispered, "you can open your eyes, love," she added when she noticed they were still closed. If you can't see her smile, you can feel her hand brushing your cheek. 

For weeks you didn't see anything else than pitch darkness and the dimmed light of the basement where you were fighting, it is great to eventually be able to see something else. She even made sure to not turn the big light on, only a small one in the corner that diffuses a subdued light. Somehow, she knows exactly what to do to make you feel comfortable. 

"Let me help you," she said, coming closer to kneel in front of you when she realized you couldn't take your bath alone.

On the way home, she sent a message for one of her maids to run a bath for you to enjoy when you arrived. The mirrors fog up and a scent of jasmine fills the room, but even if the idea of taking a bath sounds good, you don't move. You are curled at the exact place she left you in, your knees against your chest.

You are like a dog, but nothing like a fighting one, she thought when she saw how you tried to back up when she reached for your shirt.

"I am not going to do anything," she quietly said, trying to sooth you by using a gentle tone and caressing your cheek with her thumb. "I am going to help you to get rid of those rags so you can get a bath, okay? Then, we can clean your wounds and have a good meal, does this sound good?" she asked and you slowly nodded. 

She helps you to get rid of your clothes that are closer to rags honestly as they have holes in them, the fabric being soaked in dirt, blood and sweat, sticking to your skin. You never felt so vulnerable than right now, under her serious gaze, what is she thinking about? It is impossible to guess but you can feel her eyes on your body as she looks you up and down. A quick glance which allows her to take a mental note about all your injuries.

"What are you doing?" she chuckled, when her eyes didn’t land on your chest but on your crossed arms - you were trying to hide, how cute. "How silly you are,” she whispered when noticing you didn't seem to understand what she was talking about, "thinking you can hide like that."

Her tone sounded too sweet for it to genuinely be and there is something behind her gentle tone that is rigging alarms in your head. You can't tell what it is exactly, but there is that weird feeling, your instinct screaming at you to be careful when your body just wants to give up and be in her arms, ‘cause what could go wrong?

She takes your hands to pull them away from your chest so you can’t hide from her anymore. Her grip is firm, just a little too strong so you understand that, despite her sweet smile, she won't hesitate to be harsh with you if you don’t behave. However, she still seems to be extra careful while moving you, as if you were a porcelain doll, because for nothing in the world she would hurt her fragile princess. She  slowly takes your arms away so she can give a glance at all your injuries. What she sees makes her sigh, she seems about to say something but keeps her words for herself ; you should have been more careful. 

She helped you to get in the bath and it was a nice moment, a few minutes you got for yourself because, surprisingly, she let you bathe yourself alone. Oh, she wasn’t far away, just at the other end of the room, keeping a close eye on you at every time, but dealing with something on her phone. She would occasionally comment on the way you were doing things, talking you throught it so you can shower the proper way, her way. Once you are done, she wraps you on a soft towel, bandages your wounds and gives you clothes that are hers, a hoodie and a short, and you can’t help but notice how good they are smelling, how comfortable you are feeling in these.

"Did you say something?" she genuinely asked, turning to you because she was sure she heard you mumbling a few words. 

She was talking about your life here, talking almost alone as you weren’t really talkative, but thinking she would miss the words you whisepered was a mistake because she never misses anything.

"Nothing important," you replied, but this answer doesn't seem to please the woman, something twitching in her eyes, coming from soft to sharp.

"When I ask you a question, you reply to it, am I clear?” she said, immediately leaving what she was doing to come close to you and grab your chin.  “You are not the one that gets to decide what’s important, your small brain can't handle big decisions and that's why I am here. I mean, see how it got you to be by yourself …" she continued, looking at you with disdain, as if she was thinking that it is only your fault if you ended up in that rat hole, caught in human trafficking. “I am here to give you a second chance and you better take it ‘cause it may be the last… so don't talk to me like that ever again, did I make myself clear enough?"

The only answer you are able to give her is a whining accompanied by a sniffle and she obviously doesn’t like that. Even if you tried your hardest to not let those tears rolling down your cheeks, you can’t help it, her harsh words only making things worse because you are already hating to disapoint the woman. 

"If I knew you would cry, I would've sold you ..", she sighed in annoyance, her nails digging into your skin, "I hate cry-babies, understand?" she asked, but it wasn’t not a question: it was a warning. "The fighter I saw in that ring must be here when I am back," she coldly added before releasing the pressure she was exerting on your face.

She leaves, slamming the door shut so you easily understand that she is upset with you reacting that way. She has done everything she could in order to help you to be comfortable here : she gave you a bath and clothes, cleaned your wounds, promised you a meal and a bed, even gave you comfort but it still doesn't seem to be enough because you were crying as if she was some sort of monster, and she can't bear that vision. She tried to repeat to herself that you are just tired, that things are going to get better with time but it doesn’t calm her down. Whether you want it or not, she will make sure that, one way or another, you will accept her and she won't hesitate to use the hard way if she has to. 

When she comes back, she notices that didn't move an inch, scared by what the woman could say and impressed by the bedroom. But it didn’t prevent your eyes from wandering around the room. It is really minimalist, there is nothing that could give you a hint about the person she is, everything is exactly where it should be, not a speck of dust and no personal objects. It feels like a hotel room more than hers.

When you hear the door, your gaze settles on the woman. Your knees are bent against your chest as if it could protect you from all the dangers of the world. She probably left you for only five minutes, but they felt like hours. Your thoughts had time to run while waiting for her : what about trying to escape? But it never worked, it’s always a dead end, a path to regrets because they always find you, making sure you won’t even think about doing it again and, if they do not find you, it's someone else. You learned that there is no escape and gave up on going back to your old life a long time ago. It is not even the fear of the armed men that is keeping you here, it's the void in you when you think about what you would do if you were free again, nothing. Nothing because you forgot how to live on your own. So you didn't move, not even a finger because she didn't ask you to do it, only being a dog that lives for its masters' will.

But what piques your curiosity is more the tray in her hands than anything else. As soon as she enters the room, closing the door behind her with her foot, a pleasant smell spreads through the room. You can see many things on the tray she brought back : a glass of water, some pills, a bowl of steaming soup with bread and a plate with rice, vegetables and chicken. When was the last time you ate a real meal? Long enough for you to not remember what it was.

"Eat." she said as she put the tray on your knees.

It smells good. That's the first thought that crossed your mind when you saw the plate. For a moment, you forget about the past hours; when was the last time you got a real meal? You can't remember, not even a fragment of a memory. 

You would eat what your owners give you, eat quickly before they come back, never knowing what you are eating nor when the next meal would be; you learned to not ask too many questions. At first, it was difficult to accept such a fate: you would refuse to even taste the food they were giving to you, but it didn't last long. Eventually, you started to eat - inhale - anything you were given without thinking twice about it.

Tonight, for the first time in years, you are going to eat something else than the leftovers of someone you don't even know. Tonight, you won't have to be scared about your food being stolen. Tonight, you can even see the smoke, a sign that your meal is still hot, freshly cooked and maybe homemade.

"I-," you started, but she didn't let you finish your sentence, your lips barely had time to move that she already cut you, leaving no place for an argument.

I am not hungry, you were about to say, and she somehow knew it. She also knew it was a lie, your stomach has been painfully twisted because of that sick feeling for days, but the knot is also caused by your fears. 

It all feels a bit too perfect. It feels like a trap, a way to encourage you to let your guard down only to break you after, making the fall harder. Some did that in the past, why not her? She doesn't look less cruel than the others. Yet, when she is talking, she seems more genuine, you could believe her when she says she only wants what's best for you, that she cares, she just has a twisted way to show it. 

"Yes, you are, so eat, now," she ordered you with such a cold tone that you don't dare to argue. There are all these warnings she doesn't say out loud but you can read in her eyes: just do whatever I tell you, pretty girl, they say. 

And, for sure, you don't want to face the consequences of your insubordination. So you slowly take the fork, not glancing away for one second, your eyes into hers. You are looking at every detail of her expression as if it would change, telling you that it is a trap, except it doesn't and her expression stays stern. It is impossible to read anything on her face, not even a hint of how she is feeling.

You take the first bit, carefully swallowing and… nothing happens. You don't feel weird, it doesn't taste bad and she doesn't snap at you for a small imaginary mistake you would have made. It is the complete opposite. The food is really good, melting on your tongue, and you start to eat quickly, not because you have to, but because you want to. For the first time in years, eating is a pleasure. 

She sighed when she noticed that you were inhaling your food, but she didn't say anything; she will have all the time later to change that habit of you. So she just stood there for a few seconds, observing you in silence, with her arms crossed, before sitting next to you - that's when you broke eye contact, once she was sure you would eat everything. 

As you are eating, she is barely paying attention to you, at least that's the impression she is giving. One of her arms wrapped around your shoulder, her hand is absently drawing circles on your skin while she is on her phone, dealing with something serious - you can hear her frustrated sighs from time to time.

Except she sees everything and your mistake was to not be careful enough around the woman. A little because of your clumsiness, mainly because of how fast you were eating, you dropped a bit of your food on the floor. You didn't think it was a big deal, picking it up to put it back on the plate. Three seconds rules, dropped on a clean floor, you don't have very high standards anyway - but she does. She turned to you the moment she felt you were moving, a curious, but disgusted, look on her face.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her hand grabbing your wrist before you could drop the bit of food on your plate. She moves your hand on the side of the tray, far from your plate, before you even get a chance to reply. "Drop it," she ordered to you, "that's gross, hope you weren't going to eat that." 

You shake your head, too scared to do anything else, but she knows you are lying; of course you were about to eat it. You spent the past years living like a fighting dog, you would eat anything she would give you, you might even eat directly from the dirty floor if she asked you to. She winces in disgust, not letting your hand go.

"Give me that," she snarled and you can feel how her grip tightened on your wrist to force you to give the fork away.

She then takes the tray that was in front of you to put it on her side of the bed, you are looking at her, scared she would definitely take your meal away. You are about to protest when she notices it and glances at you, daring you to say a word, you don't. 

"Come here," she said, gesturing you to come closer, she even grabbed your arm to guide you when she noticed you were hesitant to move.

She sits you between her legs and you are clearly uncomfortable, wiggling, but if she notices it, she doesn't seem to care. She is so close to you that you can feel her breath tickling your skin, but she keeps acting like nothing is weird here. When she leans to cut your food, you can feel her chest pressing against your back, the contact making your heart races. Too focused on how close you are to the woman, you barely noticed when she approached the fork from your mouth, waiting for you to open. It takes one more second for you to understand what she is waiting for and, when you do, you blush in embarrassment. She takes advantage of you opening your mouth to say something to feed you, and you don't dare to push her away. 

"Can't even eat alone, hm?" she whispered in your ear while you were chewing the bit of food she just gave you, "but that's fine, I am here now," she added, and there is something in her tone that makes you shiver.

Once she made sure you ate everything, she wrapped her arms around you, laying a kiss on your temple. It is strange how safe you are feeling in her embrace: for a few seconds you forget she is the one that beat you earlier. Right now, she is just someone that cares for you, with whom you feel at peace. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel that way, you can barely remember your life before entering the human trafficking circuit.

You don’t really know when you fell asleep, but your eyes were quick to close under the effects of her fingers running on your hair and of her voice whispering sweet words in your ears. At some point, a maid came to take the empty tray away and the woman layed the both of you in the bed, under the covers, trying her best to not wake you up. This night, you slept in a comfy bed, feeling protected in the arms of the woman despite the things she did, not even thinking one second about pushing away her hands that found their way under your sweatshirt, resting on your stomach. 

The Dog fell right into the Black Widow’s web.

[cherryblogss]

CHERRYBLOGSS KINKTOBER

00:00 - Anal x Felipe Otaño

avisos: infidelidade, degradação, tapas, pipe!playboy, penetração anal, penetraçao vaginal, enzo fazendo cameo de corno.

nota: e lá vamos nós.

Se olhares matassem, com certeza o garoto mimado de olhos azuis estaria fora desse plano astral desde que entrou na sala. A presença petulante ao seu lado só te fazia desejar que aquela conferência terminasse logo para se afastar do infame Felipe Otaño, herdeiro de uma fortuna que você nem era capaz de imaginar. O filho do seu chefe era completamente insuportável, além de se achar no direito de se comunicar como se fosse subordinada dele sendo que ambos estavam no mesmo "nível" profissionalmente. Te tratava como um mero entretenimento que ele tinha ao longo das horas de trabalho, fielmente te perturbando todos os dias como se fosse uma missão.

"De que é esse anel?" Ele pergunta batucando os dedos longos contra a madeira lustrosa da mesa.

Era a terceira vez que Felipe te interrompia perguntando qualquer bobagem ou fazendo comentários inúteis tentando passar o tempo na reunião prolongada, mas agora os olhos azuis não tinham mais a expressão entediada, pelo contrário, estavam estreitos em curiosidade na direção do seu anelar esquerdo.

"De nada que te interessa." Responde desviando o olhar do dele e fingindo anotar algo sobre a apresentação que acontecia.

"Quem é o azarado?" Felipe questiona nem dando importância para sua notória irritação e arrastando a cadeira mais para perto da sua para tentar ver melhor o anel.

"Ninguém que te interessa."

Ele fica por uns minutos em silêncio, podia notar como ele parecia estar preso em pensamentos pela forma como o maxilar tensionava e as pernas longas balançavam inquietas.

"Mas sério, você tá noiva?" Ele insiste com o cenho franzido ao se inclinar pra sussurrar no seu ouvido.

No momento que você se afasta da proximidade incômoda e ia responder o argentino, seu chefe dá por encerrada a reunião e todos aplaudem qualquer ideia que estava sendo apresentada no PowerPoint há umas duas horas de puro tédio. Você e Pipe imitam as pessoas ao redor aplaudindo junto, seu rosto estava quente de ódio pelo argentino que só se chegava mais para perto, tentando espiar melhor a joia no seu dedo.

"Vai pra minha sala depois, princesa." Ele comanda sussurando no seu ouvido fazendo arrepios percorrerem a sua espinha com o hálito fresco e com a respiração quentinha batendo no seu pescoço. Respirando fundo para recobrar a consciência, se vira para encarar os olhos azuis e finalmente mandá-lo para aquele lugar.

"Escuta aqui, nem-"

Começa a falar, mas é interrompida pela voz do pai de Felipe perguntando se os dois poderiam ficar mais um pouco para conversar. No entanto, o argentino já está segurando seu braço e te puxando quando se justifica em nome de ambos.

"Não vai dar, pai, temos assuntos importantes a resolver sobre uma demanda do nosso setor. Se nos der licença." Felipe diz apressadamente e te levando junto em direção a sala particular dele que não era muito distante da sala de reuniões.

Apesar da recusa, o Otaño mais velho sorri orgulhoso, contente com a forma que o filho se demonstrava compromissado e sempre dando orgulho para o nome da família. Mal ele sabia...

Assim que ele fecha a porta, você se vira indignada para confrontar a audácia dele em simplesmente te manusear como quiser e dar desculpas no seu nome.

"Sabe, princesa-" Ele inicia, mas a sua raiva já era tanta que só se aproxima apontando o dedo para o nariz empinado.

"Não me chama assim, seu idiota!"

"Ah, tá bom, calma aí." Felipe ergue as mãos em sinal de defesa, permitindo você encurralar o corpo grande dele contra a porta. "Vou te chamar de algo que sempre te deixa bem mais obediente." Conforme ele prossegue com a fala, um sorriso malicioso cresce nos lábios rosados. "Vai casar, perrita?" Ele pergunta em deboche.

As palavras dele te pegam desprevenida, arregalando os olhos com a ousadia em te chamar assim e remeter a um dos seus maiores arrependimentos. Tudo começou quando tiveram que se unir para cumprir uma demanda e passavam horas extras no trabalho até que em uma noite de tédio acabaram por foder no sofá da sala do pai dele, e no chão, e no banheiro e no carro do Felipe, todo lugar possível que não tivesse algum tipo de ligação às vidas pessoais de vocês era o local perfeito. Felipe podia ser soberbo e arrogante sobre muitas coisas, mas sobre sexo nunca deixou a desejar, te fodia até sua mente ficar livre de qualquer pensamento que não fosse ele e sempre sabia exatamente o que fazer para te fazer ficar completamente rendida. Era o amante perfeito com a voz suave falando as frases mais indecentes enquanto te mantinha presa ao encanto dele, no entanto, depois que o sexo acabava, Otaño já retornava a persona irritante e petulante que não conseguia passar 1 minuto sem te atazanar. Nas últimas vezes que transaram, chegava até a te ignorar após o ato ou sumir por uma semana em viagens a trabalho que todos sabiam ser pura besteira. O caso durou alguns meses de puro sexo casual até você pôr um fim em tudo quando conheceu seu atual parceiro. Enzo era perfeito em vários sentidos, era um homem lindo, calmo, maduro e sério, apesar de sentir que o amava, não poderia dizer que ele te causava sensações tão fortes. Talvez fosse para ser assim, um amor calmo e sem muitas emoções, o moreno não demorou dois anos até te pedir em casamento e você aceitou.

Sabia que tinha que se controlar em não extravasar com Felipe, senão daria exatamente o que ele queria e manter a compostura era a melhor opção para ter paz.

"O que você quer,  Felipe? Eu tenho mais o que fazer do que te aturar." Pergunta em um tom calmo e tentando não se afetar com a maneira que ele parecia estar dez vezes mais bonito de perto.

"Quero atualizações sobre a sua vida, doçura, faz tanto tempo que a gente não tem contato." Ele finaliza a frase com as íris azuladas cheias de malícia enquanto arqueia as sobrancelhas grossas em um claro sinal que aquilo não era sobre simples conversas.

"Eu vou casar com um diretor de teatro que eu conheci há uns 2 anos e nós somos muito felizes. Satisfeito?" Pergunta voltando a se alterar, mas no fim optando por fechar o punho ao invés de atacar o argentino insolente.

Felipe parece estar descontente com a sua resposta, suspirando pesadamente e com um ar de tédio rondando as feições atraentes. O drama e teatralidade dos gestos te faz rolar os olhos e imitar a expressão aborrecida.

"Que foi agora?"

"Não sei, sempre pensei que você fosse conseguir algo melhor" Ele diz ajeitando a postura e diminuindo a distância entre você perigosamente.

"Alguém como você por acaso?" Pergunta rindo em escárnio pela maneira absurda que ele crítica suas decisões amorosas.

Felipe coloca uma mão no queixo fingindo pensar, levando sua atenção para os pelinhos ralos e sardas que adornavam a ponte do nariz pontudo.

"É, acho que como eu, princesa." Ele confirma e move uma mão para brincar com as pontas do seu cabelo. Não sabe o que te deu, mas não se distância e se deixa ser embalada pelas nuances do perfume amadeirado. "Pelo menos eu te comia até você ficar mansinha. Poxa, você tá tão estressada esses dias." Finaliza com os olhos magnéticos te encarando como se te desafiasse a contestá-lo.

Completamente desprovida de palavras sua boca se abre em um choque, o que o o argentino aproveita para suavemente acariciar com o polegar o seu lábio inferior.

Por outro lado, Pipe sabia que estava chegando no ponto exato que você cederia as provocações, se aproveitando de qualquer abertura para ver sua guarda baixar.

"Você é insuportável." É a única coisa que sai da sua boca. Sua voz minúscula e impotente enquanto permite ele só chegar mais e mais perto.

"Admite que você vai morrer de tédio com esse boludo."

"Você não tem educação mesmo, eu tentando não te xingar e você fica igual um garoto imaturo falando qualquer-" Começa a tagarelar na tentativa de desestabilizar o maior, mas Felipe não resiste e encontra a melhor forma de te calar pousando os lábios dele nos seus.

Com o início do beijo, um grunhido raivoso sai de você, mas não o afasta, e sim, o traz mais para perto, agarrando o cabelo volumoso e puxando-o para aprofundar o beijo. Com Felipe nunca haviam decepções, ele sabia como conduzir o momento como ninguém, passando a língua habilidosa pelos seus lábios antes de enfiar na cavidade e procurar a sua para massagear eroticamente. As suas respirações ficavam cada vez mais descompassadas a medida que as carícias se tornavam desesperadas. As mãos grandes se dividiam entre uma segurar seu pescoço e a outra percorrer seu corpo até apertar sua bunda com vontade. Pipe parecia querer moldar seu corpo no dele com o ósculo intenso, fazendo seu interior vibrar com a sensação de um vazio que só ele preenchia.

"Sentiu minha falta foi?"

A frase "porque eu senti a sua" quase escapou dos lábios dele, era revigorante ter sua personalidade forte e pavio curto de  volta. Pipe sabe que não te tratou do jeito que merecia, além de nem ter noção como deveria te conquistar, ficava totalmente perdido diante da sua presença e a única forma que conseguia transmitir tudo que sentia era através do sexo. Mesmo que não tivesse a inteligência emocional para te ter junto a ele, faria de tudo para te convencer que casar com esse outro imbecil era um erro.

"Cala a boca." Responde impaciente, mas era difícil para ele não sorrir com o quão adorável você era. Tantos centímetros abaixo dele e com os lábios inchados dos carinhos trocados, e mesmo assim, ainda tinha as garras para fora, atacando ele a qualquer oportunidade apresentada.

"Vamos já dar um jeito nessa boquinha mal humorada." Ele promete voltando a se aproximar, entretanto, agora mirando no seu pescoço onde ele distribui chupões e beijos babados, passando a língua em cima de cada mordida que deixava e rindo com o seu corpo estremecendo.

Suas mãos buscam apoio nos ombros largos, fincando as unhas no tecido caro do terno enquanto joga a cabeça para trás quando ele começa a desabotoar sua blusa e chupar a carne exposta dos seus seios. Ele não demora em se desfazer das suas roupas, te deixando só com a saia lápis que delineava sua silhueta de uma forma que fazia as mãos dele coçarem para te tocar todinha.

Se ajoelhando a sua frente, os lábios famintos retornam aos seus peitos, sugando os biquinhos e dando lambidas prolongadas até encharcar a região com saliva, as mãos apertavam sua bunda por baixo da saia, enchendo-as com uma força desmedida ao matar a saudade. Ele parava os beijos uma e outra vez para inspirar seu cheiro adocicado e inundar os sentidos dele com a nostalgia que era te ter nos seus braços de novo.

"Hm? O que disse, princesa?" Ele pergunta quando escuta um chorinho seu e desperta dos devaneios que sua existência o colocava, apoiando o queixo no seu colo e encarando seu biquinho manhoso.

"Eu quero que você me faça gozar, Pipe, por favor, quero que me toque, eu não aguento mais." Choraminga exasperada e impaciente, puxando os cachos castanhos para apressá-lo e demonstrar sua urgência.

Os olhos dele brilham em satisfação, finalmente tinha conseguido te deixar submissa e faminta por ele.

"Na mesa, perrita." Felipe comanda, estapeando sua coxa e se levantando ao passo que retira as roupas até ficar só com a calça social.

Você o obedece, subitamente tímida em estar tão exposta ao ar frio do ambiente e de volta aos braços de um homem que jurou nunca mais ter intimidade. No entanto, logo sua mente esvazia quando vê ele retirar o pau rosado, bombeando o comprimento até ficar ereto por completo, sua boca salivando para lamber a gotinha do líquido branco que vazava da ponta. Desvia os olhos do membro para ver o dono suspirar aborrecido quando te vê imóvel em frente a mesa grande.

"Não, não. Do jeito que a gente fazia antes." Ele diz se aproximando até te virar de costas e te inclinar de bruços sobre a mesa. Um arfar escapa dos seus lábios com a sensação do seu torso em contato com a madeira.

Felipe ergue sua saia até os quadris, expondo sua calcinha e interior das coxas melecados com a sua lubrificação. Mordendo os lábios, o argentino passa a ponta dos dedos nas dobrinhas por cima do tecido e sorrindo involuntariamente com o seu gemido necessitado quando ele pressionou os dígitos no seu pontinho.

Sem mais delongas, ele remove sua roupa íntima, grunhindo com a visão da sua buceta inchadinha e melada com o seu melzinho. Ele te explora ao deslizar os dedos pela fendinha, circulando o clitóris em círculos lentos e saboreando como você ficava mais empinadinha a cada miado que saia da sua boca. Ele mantém o polegar no seu clitóris enquanto dois dedos deslizam para dentro da entradinha estreita. Felipe geme junto contigo ao sentir como estava com dificuldades em colocar os dois dedos por completo.

"Porra, amorcito, aposto que ele não deve nem saber foder essa bucetinha do jeito que você gosta. Tá tão apertadinha..." Ele fala em um tom zombeteiro, mas logo se distrai quando suas paredes se contraem apertando-o deliciosamente e sujando os dedos dele com mais líquidos.

A cada vai e vem, os dedos te esticavam abrindo o caminho para ele se movimentar com mais liberdade, prontamente, já está socando os dígitos com rapidez e admirando como seu buraquinho se alargava ao redor dos dedos. Os olhos do argentino encontram sua outra entrada, brilhando em curiosidade e com a oportunidade de fazer algo inédito. Discretamente, ele move a outra mão até o seu cuzinho, circulando a o buraco em preparação. Ele olha para o seu rosto, te vendo com os olhos fechados em êxtase e a boca entreaberta a medida que os sons escapavam contidos.

Ele cospe mirando no seu cuzinho, mas erra por pouco e acerta os próprios dedos na sua bucetinha, então fode a saliva na sua fendinha e tenta novamente, dessa vez acertando em cheio sua rodinha. Imediatamente vendo como seus olhos se abrem em desconfiança, mas um arquejo de prazer sai dos seus lábios. A ponta de um dedo começa a te penetrar no ritmo que a outra mão penetrava sua buceta, era suja e extremamente excitando a imagem dos seus buracos abertinhos para ele. Pipe escuta um resmungo seu enquanto abre mais caminho no seu interior, mas não se detém até enfiar por completo e aumentar a intensidade que fodia seu cuzinho e buceta. Um grito esganiçado com o nome dele sai dos seus lábios com a chegada inesperada do seu orgasmo, um jato de líquidos saindo da sua intimidade e manchando as calças escuras dele. Felipe não era nem um santo, mas com toda certeza essa era a experiência mais sexy que ele havia tido. A sua bucetinha pulsava assim como o outro buraco, desesperadamente apertando os dedos que continuavam a se mexer até as contrações pararem.

Pipe remove os dedos, admirando como brilhavam com a sua lubrificação e em seguida direcionando-os aos seus lábios para te fazer chupar toda a bagunça que tinha feito. Sem hesitar, começa sugar os dedos largos e lamber enquanto gemia com o seu gosto inundando as suas papilas gustativas.

"Por mais que sua bucetinha seja linda e gostosa, eu quero foder esse cuzinho hoje, princesa." Felipe diz após grudar a virilha na sua intimidade, esfregando a glande na sua lubrificação e depois apontando a cabecinha para o seu cuzinho.

Lentamente, ele enfia centímetros por centímetros, tentando ser paciente, mas de vez em quando desliza sem cautela, arrancando gemidos de dor e prazer de ti. Pipe sentia a dificuldade que era inserir o pau avantajado na sua entradinha menor, ainda mais com você tão tensa, então para te deixar mais relaxada, ele retorna os movimentos no seu clitóris, sentindo o ego inflar ao escutar seus miados de prazer. Estava tão molhada que o dedo dele deslizava em uma massagem veloz enquanto o pau saia e entrava do seu rabinho.

Tudo parecia demais para você, que não conseguia formar um pesamento coerente com os quadris dele se chocando com os seus e ouvindo os gemidos do argentino. Ambos não se controlovam durante a foda que logo se tornou animalesca, sua cintura se movimentando para encontrar as estocadas brutas dele que puxava seus cabelos a cada impulso, te mantendo no lugar conforme ambos se aproximavam de um orgasmo.

"Diz pra mim, quem que te fode assim." Felipe grunhe entredentes, sacudindo seu corpo inteiro com a força que te comia. Se pudesse vê-lo, com certeza gozaria na hora, pois a imagem do homem gigante completamente ruborizado, com uma camada de suor fazendo os músculos definidos brilharem era uma visão digna de um sonho molhado.

"Responde, perrita." Rosna estapeando com força a sua nádega e arrancando um choramingo alto da sua boca quando não obtém uma resposta.

"Só você me fode assim, Pipe, por favor, mais." Geme alto sem se importar com quem vá escutar, a única coisa que se importa no momento era em gozar ao redor do pau grosso e sentir ele te encher de porra naquele lugar proibido.

Felipe sentia as pernas fraquejando e o abdomen tensionar em um aviso que o orgasmo chegaria logo, ele fecha os olhos por uns minutos tentando manter o controle, mas quando volta a abri-los, na hora uma onda de prazer arrebatadora o acomete com a sensação e vista do seu buraquinho apertando, piscando e transbordando com o pré-gozo. Os jatos brancos te enchem até vazar pelas suas pernas enquanto o argentino se debruça sobre suas costas, beliscando o clitóris até sentir seu aperto uma última vez com o segundo orgasmo te atingindo. Ambos ficam ofegantes e com o suor grudando suas peles enquanto tentam recuperar o fôlego. Pipe inala o aroma do seu cabelo, relaxando com a essência floral misturada ao cheiro de sexo. Era tudo um plano e aos poucos ele te reconquistaria, colocaria na sua cabecinha que só ele te faria feliz e satisfeita.

Talvez não fosse o melhor em se expressar, mas pelo menos ele te daria um anel bem melhor.

[only-horse-polls]

TFHT Starter List

The mummified equus lenensis foal - Known for being one of the most well-preserved equine species from BC.

Kasztanka - Known as the trusted companion Marshal Józef Piłsudski.

Marengo - Known for being Napoleon's war horse, believed to have been a whopping 38 years old, he is also the horse in that one painting, you know the one.

Bucephalus - Loved companion of Alexander the Great, believed to be the most famous horse from classical antiquity, and lived to be about 30 years of age.

Staff Sergeant Reckless - Known for holding official rank in the US military, and quickly learning supply routes, so much so that she could make entire trips without a handler. She was given multiple awards and decorations, including two Purple Hearts and the Dickin Medal.

Potoooooooo - Also known as Pot-8-Os, became famous for his silly name.

Docs Keepin Time - Became well known as the actor who played Black Beauty in the 1994 movie. He also played The Black in the TV series The Adventures of the Black Stallion.

Hightower - Became known as Ginger in the Black Beauty movie in 1994, as well as carrying Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride (1999).

Kuporovic - Known as the cell donor for the cloning of the Przewalski horse.

Godolphin Arabian - Also known as Godolphin Barb is known to been one of the founding sires for the modern thoroughbred.

John Simpson's Donkeys - At least five donkeys, known as Duffy No. 1, Duffy No. 2, Murphy, Queen Elizabeth, and Abdul, who were known to carry injured soldiers to safety.

Radar - Was known as the world's tallest living horse between 2006 to 2009 at 202cm tall (6'7.5'').

Charlie - Known as the last shunting horse of the British Railways, who retired in 1967.

Figure - Known as the foundation sire of the Morgan horse.

Clever Hans - Gained fame in the early 20th century. He was believed to be able to read, tell time, understand German, and do math. Later, he gained more fame as he was studied by a psychologist who noticed the horse was actually picking up minor reactions from his trainer and responding to them as cues. His trainer did not even realize he was giving these hidden cues.

Misty of Chincoteague - The real-life inspiration for the novel with the same name.

Charisma - Was a successful eventing horse from New Zealand and is by some considered the greatest eventing horse of all time.

Occident - Famous for being featured in a series of cabinet cards by Eadweard Muybridge, most noteworthy the single frame photograph of the horses at a racing speed trot.

Halla - Became famous for her show jumping career and is the only horse to ever win three Olympic gold medals in the sport.

Lisette - The mare of French general Marcellin Marbot. She was reported to have attacked people she does not like, as well as likely killing two Russian soldiers, if not more (based).

Trigger - Also known as Golden Cloud, became famous for his acting career mid-1900s. He appeared in The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), Roll on Texas Moon (1946), The Golden Stallion (1949), and many more.

Snowman - Became famous for his success in show jumping as well as his rags-to-riches story, as he was a former plow horse, bought for $80 when on his way to the slaughterhouse, and became a champion show jumper.

Highland Dale - Known for his acting career, starring in movies such as Black Beauty (1946), Fury (1955-1960), and Lassie (1954-1974), and many more, he was considered one of the most sought-after animal actors in the mid-1900s.

Impressive - A famous Appendix Quarter born in 1969 and earning his AQHA reg. in 1971. He was a world champion halter stallion, the first of his breed, and sired over 2000 foals, but also slightly infamous after hyperkalemic periodic paralysis was recognized in the 80s, a genetic disease that he had passed down to many of his offspring.

Sapphire - the chestnut Belgian mare, not the grey Holsteiner, known for having won Olympic show jumping twice as well as having a spot in the show jumping hall of fame.

Totilas - one of the world's most famous horses, becoming known as the first horse to score higher than 90% in grand prix dressage, and later infamous for the abuse he endured once sold to Paul Schockemöhle and Ann-Kathrin Linsenhoff.

Blueskin - One of the horses owned and ridden by George Washington.

Nelson - One of the horses owned and ridden by George Washington.

King - Known for having been a stallion with a large influence on the modern quarter horse in the early to mid-1900s.

Theodore O'Connor - Known as a pony who competed in the highest difficulty of international eventing.

Brooklyn Supreme - Held the record as the world's heaviest horse (1451.5 kg / 3,200 lb). The record has since been beaten.

Old Bob - a driving horse owned by Abraham Lincoln prior to his presidency. He was also a part of Lincoln's funeral.