#hes a hardcore motherfucker

[gayemoji]

tonight is real missing technoblade hours

[tittyinfinity]

Interesting dynamics in the household

[tsykku]

Philza motherfucking Minecraft.

He did not just pretend to have a normal hardcore stream to then fade to black, just to have hardcore be a dream while he was locked in the birdhouse on the Qsmp.

Not a lore man, my arse

[isa-ghost]

I need everyone to understand that I am a hardcore Bolas supporter and mainly watch Phil's POV.

And I am THRIVING on, when you watch a Bolas POV, what a lil BITCH BBH seems like. I love it.

I don't care if he's not actually a lil bitch and that'd be clear to me if I watched his or any Soulfire's POV. I love that from any Bolas perspective, he seems like a cunning and sometimes petty little motherfucker. I hope he keeps going, whether he's making himself look this way intentionally or not. I fucking LOVE that BBH exists and Bolas are just like--

I love that BBH lives rent free in every Bolas head.

[vastimagines]

If we're talking about emerald duo, they're often misconstrued with each other which is objectively funny. Techno is the reasonable one. Techno always has a reason for what he does and is honorable in his tactics. He'll always go into something well-prepared but when the fight is over it's over.

Now, Phil on the other hand. This motherfucker craves chaos. He'll go along with any plan of Techno's purely for the fun of it. He's the one you need to watch out for even after the treaty's been signed. If it'll give him a laugh, hell if it makes him a smile, he'll do it, damn the consequences.

And maybe there's reasons for this. Technoblade who never dies versus Phil who is always worried about dying. Phil is chaotic to enjoy the life he has because he knows he very much can die with one misstep, the man who lives in hardcore knows how fragile life is even if he's Death's chosen being.

Techno on the other hand is Technoblade, the one who never dies. Techno is ruthless in battle and unmatched. He never dies so there is little to worry about, and so he takes life differently than his friend who lives for the adrenaline. Techno takes care in every action because he knows others are not as strong as him. Techno knows he can come back from anything and knows that others can't do so, whereas Phil knows others can't go the lengths he can go and laughs at them.

[eichornia]

So I had a thought:

- It's 2024. Daniel is back in the grid, his hand is completely healed, his curls are thriving. He feels confident again and he's happy. He's in a low dose of antidepressants and the therapy does wonders. 2022 seems really far away.

- He's starting the season in a good mood, flirting his way through the paddock, joking with the Netflix boys. It's Thursday and they're in Australia. Australia, baby, his favourite place in the world. His family is coming to see him race, Isaac being old enough to really enjoy being in the garage. He's curious and funny and Daniel misses him a lot when he's away. He loves Isabella too, she's his princess. But she's not really interested in the sport (yet) and she's in a hardcore Bluey phase. So Isaac asks him if he can go with him to the garage and when they're there, he asks if they can go visit the Red Bull garage because he's obsessed with the RB and to be honest, with Max too. Just like his uncle, Blake likes to say. Usually that makes Daniel to show his karate moves but not for long because Blake is a scary motherfucker sometimes even if he hides it well.

- So to the RB garage they go. They chat with Christian for a bit (Do you want to run for us when you're big, Isaac?, he asks) (And Isaac says yes, yes, yes) and they dodge Helmut when he appears in the garage because he's scary and not in a nice way. (Isaac says he smells like moths and Daniel has to fight really hard not to laugh) and then they spot Max. He's talking with GP but when he sees them, he waves smiling and he talks with Isaac like he's an adult (and even invites him to look into the car and explains to him everything, twice when Isaac asks again about some things).

- And yeah, Daniel has feelings. Like, he knows he had feelings for Max since... Well, a long time ago. He knows but he was scared of being bisexual (thanks Josh Allen for fixing that) and older than Max, and he was scared of being reciprocal because yeah, like Max was his teammate? His hot, younger, faster teammate.

- But now Daniel is (even) older and has learnt to not give a fuck about what people thinks. And yeah, watching Max with his niece? It's doing things to Daniel's heart.

- So yeah, Australia is awesome, racing in Australia is even better, getting points in Australia is a dream come true after these past years. He's high on endorphins and that's his excuse to intercept Max when he's on his way to his driver room after the podium. (Hey, hi, Maxy, Maximus, I was thinking, like, congrats in the podium, by the way, good trophy and all that, but I was thinking of asking you if you wanted to come to Perth?)

- The craziest thing to happen is that Max says yes. No doubts at all, just his big smile that makes his eyes go small and a 'yes, Daniel'.

- PERTH. It goes like this: Max comes to the farm, falls in love with Daniel's house, Daniel's falls in love a bit more with him. And Max knows nothing about it because Daniel is a bit immature but he's not stupid (not about this anyway) and Max is one of his best friends and he doesn't want to ruin their friendship.

- So he says nothing and he enjoys having this week with Max in his home. They race dirt bikes, they cook together (well, they try) and they play with Isaac and Isabella when they come to visit. And then it's Sunday, a whole week has passed and they're going to fly together soon to Japan. They're enjoying the hot tub after having a nice dinner and Max is laughing at Daniel's impression of Toto and Daniel feels like his chest is filled with helium, feels high, lucky, funny. And that's his excuse to kiss Max.

- Max doesn't stop laughing for a second even in the middle of the kiss and then he stops moving and breathing and Daniel is panicking a bit. Because he knew it would ruin everything, this thing he feels for Max. But then Max's hand is in his neck, drawing him against his lips again, magnets in the dark.

- So yeah, that's a thing they do now. Making out. Heavy petting. Every time it happens, Daniel wants to flail his arms, run in circles, scream like fucking Tarzan. It's like getting a podium over and over again, it's like champagne bubbles getting trapped in his chest. Max kisses him like he races (point-blank, non-stop, making him weak at the knees) and he likes to make Daniel straddle him and he likes to caress his thighs, draw his tattoos again, the three against his lips before kissing each of his fingers.

-It makes Daniel effervescent with happiness and when they're racing in Japan, he's fourth in the race, almost a podium and he comes back to the garage and hugs everyone and laughs and almost cries because he's coming back, baby, he's so coming back. And he goes back to the hotel and doesn't go to his room, he goes straight to Max's room and he doesn't stop to think because he's going to chicken out otherwise.

- And he's on his knees.

- He's on his knees for Max, and he puts his forehead against Max's tummy and kisses his belly button and blows a raspberry against his hip and Max pushes his head away, silly-laughing, and Daniel says let me, let me, please, I won't do it again, Maxy, but let me and Max touches one of his brows and touches his hair and then brings him against his body.

- And kissing Max is like getting a podium but blowing him is getting second place, getting drunk, getting sweaty, getting high-high-high.

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

You can read the continuation here.

[notreallyuseless]

I saw people get GENUINELY angry at (cc! and q!)Phil for not going on more adventures/dungeon with his kids and i'm like, yeah i wish he would get more stuff to protect his kids haha but also, the best way to describe him is this:

You can take Phil out of Hardcore but you cannot take Hardcore out of Phil.

He will stay the most paranoid, jumpy and anxious motherfucker on this island. He will NOT take any risks (/lh)

[sadhours]

scumbag blues • regular john

gator tillman x f!oc

previous chapter • masterlist

cw: 18+ minors dni, drug use, sex work, smut, p in v, angst, Gator is mean but so is Daisy

Gator hates going to the sheriff’s department since his date with Faye went awry. She looks at him differently. But Roy’s insistent he keeps on courting her. And with him being banned by Daisy, Faye’s looking prettier and prettier every day. Though, Gator’s banned, he drives by the inn twice a day. Checking for cars. Daisy’s busy. Always a car he don't recognize or Daphne’s beat up pick up truck. Can only imagine what Daphne says about him. He tried to get with her back in school. Before Daisy was selling herself. Daphne was someone his dad liked and Gator liked how Daphne looked, along with the reasons his dad liked her. Roy encouraged Gator pursuing Daphne and they went on a couple of dates. But then Gator asked a little too much about her best friend, Daisy and Daphne seemed disinterested. Then Daisy started talking to Gator during gym class which embarrassed Gator so he was rude to her. He knew Daphne had gossiped about their dates and felt like Daisy talked to him out of pity.

But Daisy was persistent and well, she was a cheerleader. They winded up at the same parties after games. She’d find her way to Gator and gush about how well he played. Then he got tackled by a motherfucker twice his size and broke his ankle. Daphne signed his cast in big letters that took up a whole half of it. Next thing he knew, Daisy was scribbling all pretty over it, looking up at him with these eyes and he couldn’t get the image out of his head. Jerked off to the thought of Daisy on her knees many, many times. But he was rude to her the whole time, told her to fuck off.

After graduation, Gator was two months into his training for deputy. His dad was hardcore about it. Gator slept four hours a night at most. Chores and training left him little room for anything. But he got away for a bonfire one night on his birthday. He remembers it well. Jason Aldean’s “Big Green Tractor” playing loud on someone’s speaker when it was whispered to him that you could fuck Daisy Way for two hundred bucks. And he’d just got five hundred for graduating from his grandad. Seemed like a good investment, so he set his sights on Daisy and drunkenly waddled over to her.

She was curled up with Daphne at the fire, wearing these low rise, boot cut jeans and a flowy white top. Her hair, bleached blonde in tangles from the harsh North Dakota wind. Stumbled in her boots when Gator extended his hand towards her. They held hands as they walked to his truck, silent after Gator said to her, “Heard a rumor ‘bout ya.”

“What’s the rumor?” Daisy slurred as Gator opened the backseat door of his truck and she settled inside. He stood between her knees, wrapped his fingers around her knees as he gazed up at her. Her eyeliner was smeared, eyes looking as drunk as he felt.

“Heard you’d let me do what I want for two hundred bucks,” Gator slurred back, “That true?”

“Rooster crow in the mornin’?” She hiccuped, face shifted something sultry.

“What?” Gator giggled, not expecting that response.

Daisy giggled in return, hands clutching his flannel, “Yes, Gator, give me two hundred bucks and you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Can I fuck you?” he wondered, hand moving to hold her jaw, brown eyes boring into her blue ones.

“If that’s what you want,” she whispered, “Is that what you want, Gator?”

He shuffled to pull his wallet out, pulls out two crisp hundred dollar bills and offered them to Daisy. She slipped them from his fingers and shoved them in her front pocket, “Fuck me, Gator.”

He moved quickly, getting in the truck between her legs and pushed he on her back. Kissed her filthy while his hands found purchase on her chest, squeezing at the swell of her tits through her bra and shirt. Daisy’s legs wrapped around his waist, hands grabbing the back of head while she kissed him back just as desperately. Writhed underneath him like a pig in mud, grunting and humming like she ain’t ever been happier. Gator believed it, dead set on losing his damned virginity to her. With the doors of the truck wide open, a sight for anyone walking by as he rutted into her, erection straining against his boxers. Daisy’s thighs were as warm as asphalt on a summer day, clenching around him with a vice grip. Gator had to cut the foreplay short ‘cause he damned near blew his load just kissing and dry humping her. It was race between them, shoving jeans and underwear low enough to get the pair of ‘em exposed.

Gator swore he saw her slick coating her thighs. Had to get his hand on her cunt, had to make sure she was just as soaked as she looked, and she was. She gripped his cock, pointed it to her entrance as she whispered about his size against his lips. Gave Gator this ego boost that had his hips jerking forward, sheathing his cock fully inside her in one swift motion. The pair of them moaned in pleasure, Gator was overwhelmed with the sensation. Daisy’s cunt squeezing him so tight and warm and wet, his hips stilled as his face nuzzled against her neck.

“Goddamn, Daisy,” he cursed, face all scrunched up.

“Fuck me,” she whined, rolling her hips as she scratched at the back of his head, “Gator! Your cocks fucking huge, oh my god!”

He bit her neck, trying to restrain his orgasm but it was edging closer and closer, way too quickly. Her fucked out voice made it so hard not to bust. Being inside Daisy weren’t nothing like fucking his own fist. His eyes rolled back in his eyes as he made sounds against her neck that sounded foreign on his intoxicated ears. Her thighs squeezed him something fierce as she tightened her grip on him, fucking herself on his cock. He pulled back, wrapped his hand around her throat as he demanded, “Don’t fucking move, slut. Lay still.”

Daisy whimpered, looking at him with goddamned stars in her eyes as her jaw dropped. She panted, whined, made beautiful sounds Gator could never forget. He was embarrassed by how quick he was about to cum, sure Daisy would run off and tell everyone she just took his virginity for a measly $200. But Daisy kept babbling. Wouldn’t fucking shut up.

“God, Gator! It’s so fucking big, holy fuck—“ she gasped, “feel it in my guts.”

Blew his load then, bare ass clenching as he emptied inside of her. Making a pathetic sound he ain’t ever made before. And Gator couldn’t help but make noise when he came but it wasn’t ever like this. This was the most pathetic he ever sounded in his life, hand gripping Daisy’s throat so tight her voice cut off. Her eyes rolled back in her head but the bitch had the nerve to thrust her hips up at him, milking even more from him and pulling yet another weak moan from him.

“Fuck—“ he let go of her throat as he pulled back. His cock was softening as he slipped it back into his jeans. Daisy didn’t even look disappointed, looked at him like he hung the moon and stars. Sat up as Gator zipped his pants up, grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss.

“Come to the Inn tomorrow,” she begged, licking his lower lip, “Wanna do that again with ya.”

Gator spent all his graduation money on Daisy.

“Good morning, Deputy Tillman,” Faye’s voice shocks him back to reality, pulls him out of the memory that has his dick filling out.

“Mornin’, Faye,” he greeted her, “I gotta check out some evidence, mind handing me the key?”

“Sure,” she replied, turning in her chair to grab it and from this angle, Gator can imagine she’s Daisy. Can imagine her turning around and having them plump lips and bright blue eyes. He’d bend her over the desk, that’s how pent up he is. Wishes he could fuck Daisy in front of every man in Stark County and show them who really owns her. Free of charge. But he sees Faye’s soft brown eyes and the fantasy is shattered.

“Thanks,” he grabs the keys and rushes past her and down the stairs. Makes his way to the evidence room, goes to the narcotics section and files through. Grabs a couple of bags of coke. The lotto ones. A couple of grams nobody’ll miss. Tucks them into his pocket but not after opening one and taking a quick bump, another bump. And then one more. He doesn’t say bye to Faye when he leaves. Finds himself in the cruiser, spills one of the baggies onto the center console. Cuts himself a line and snorts it with a hundred dollar bill, tries not to think about how the Benjamin would’ve winded up in Daisy’s pocket if she hadn’t “banned” him.

Coke fueled, he’s angry. Thinks, how could she fucking ban him. He’s the law. That’s how Gator finds himself at the Inn. No cars outside. Earl ain’t even home. But Daisy is.

“Daisy Tellulah Way,” he calls as he enters the door, “Come out with your hands up, got a warrant for your arrest.”

“Gator, that ain’t funny,” she seethes when she walks out of the kitchen. Gator’s fucked her in there. On the counter while she attempted to prepare breakfast for her pops. Thinks about it vividly as he gazes at her. She’s wearing a simple white dress, satin with lace at the bodice. Could marry her in that dress, he thinks as he looks at her. Kinda wants to drop to his knees and ask, but he ain’t gotta ring and she banned him. She fucking banned him.

“You look good,” he says instead, “Missed you.”

Her face softens at that. Makes Gator’s stomach flip. Makes him think he loves her. Almost drops to his knees again. Then her face hardens.

“I banned you from this place,” she exhales, looks exhausted.

“I don’t like her,” Gator admits, the coke working as a fucking truth serum. “She’s boring and she ain’t as pretty as you.”

Daisy wipes her face with her hand, narrows her eyes at Gator, “You ain’t banned ‘cause you got a girlfriend. You’re banned because you’re attached.”

“How am I attached if I have a girlfriend?” Gator argues.

“You’re here, telling me you don’t like your girlfriend. Gator, seriously, I need you to leave,” Daisy replies.

“Can’t leave,” Gator responds, “Gimme me an hour. I’ll pay whatever you want.”

Daisy scans his face, chuckles condensing as she announces, “You’re high.”

“High on how bad I need ya.”

“High on evidence that’s too easily accessible,” she mutters, “Go home. Jerk off. Forget about me, Gator.”

“‘Member the first time we hooked up?” Gator asks, palms bracing the desk as he edges closer to it.

“The first time you paid me to fuck you, you mean,” she argues and Gator waves his hand.

“I remember the way you looked at me,” he licks his lips, “You liked it. You ain’t ever liked sex before.”

“Sex is my job, Gator. I’m great at looking like I enjoy it,” Daisy retorts, “Leave.”

Gator doesn’t get it. In his recollection of their first sexual encounter, Daisy seemed to like it. He struggles to believe she’s been faking it this whole time. “I’ve made you squirt, hard to fake that.”

“Gator, seriously. Get the fuck out,” she replies, looking demure suddenly. Can’t hold his eye contact.

“Tell me you don’t want me.”

Daisy licks her lips, takes a deep breath before she leans over the desk, “I don’t want you. I never have and I never will. I’m a fucking prostitute, Gator.”

“You didn’t make me pay so many times,” he tries to argue.

Daisy smiles then purses her lips before she speaks again, “Felt bad for you. You’re fucking pathetic. Every god damn penny you make goes to me and I felt bad. But I don’t have any feelings for you. Except disdain. Please, leave.”

Gator sucks on his teeth, digs in his pocket for one of the grams of coke, tosses it on the desk. “Well, you’re good at your job. ‘Cause you had me convinced I fucking meant something to ya,” he swallows, “And yeah, maybe I got attached, maybe I fell for ya. Which makes me a big fat fucking loser. ‘Cause I do better than your fucking, tainted pussy. Can find a girl who hasn’t had every pathetic fuck in this town between her legs. Fuck you, Daisy. Hope you get fucking syphilus and die.”

Gator slams his door on the way out.

[flavored-soda]

BuckTommy/Kinley/Tevan Headcanons because the brainrot is real

Rating: Explicit (18+ minors dni)

One thing I gotta get out of the way is that Buck was a sex addict at one point. He’s not a newbie to the BDSM/kink scene and he’s certainly not a virgin. He may not know every little thing about gay sex but he’s not clueless.

Ok, so now that that's out of the way:

Buck bottoms majority of the time. Their first time, Tommy bottomed, and while it was great and amazing, once he tried it for the first time, he found he preferred it over topping.

Tommy has a major Daddy kink. He brought it up ONE TIME, once, and Buck has not forgotten. He waits for the perfect opportunities to use and abuse the kink in his favor.

Which brings to my next point: Buck is a brat.

One of Buck's favorite things about sex before Tommy was getting to eat his partner's out. He loved having his mouth on them and being able to reduce them to squirming messes with only his mouth. It's no different now that he's with Tommy. He loves sucking him off. He even ate out Tommy one time and he found it to be a religious experience.

Toys on toys on toys on toys. Buck has always been one experimental and kinky motherfucker. That didn't change with Tommy.

Tommy is a soft dom all the way. He can be mean but he has to be in the right headspace and often takes some planning on both their parts.

When Tommy is mean, he is mean. He'll never admit it, but he's a little bit of a sadist, and watching his boyfriend squirm and shake from dry orgasm after dry orgasm or being edged for hours really does it for him.

Buck loves himself some impact play. The flogger that Tommy surprised him with one night is his favorite. He finds himself begging for Tommy to use it on him almost every scene.

They end up having more vanilla-love-making sessions than anything. Sometimes, they can weeks to a month without their schedules truly lining up to spend time together probably, so they cherish when they can. The intimacy of just being in each other's space, being able to be so close with the other and holding each other means more to them than any kind of hot and kinky scene.

Aftercare (because it is very very important people!!!):

It depends on the type of scene what aftercare each of them need: Tommy usually always needs cuddles. He likes being the big spoon and running his hands over Buck's body, placing soft kisses where he can. He's checking his handiwork while also checking to making sure the younger is okay. If he can't have cuddles, he'll settle for holding hands, he just needs to be touching Buck in some way.

Buck is typically always down for cuddles and kisses, especially after particularly rough scenes. Praise and words of affirmation are another big thing on his aftercare list and Tommy is always happy to provide.

There are times when both men need something different. Sometimes, Tommy, who is normally the talkative one, goes silent and needs that silence. When he gets like this, Buck will usually pull the older man on top of his chest, letting Tommy's head rest right over his heart as he combs his fingers through the older's hair. He'll give him a kiss or two every once and a while until they fall asleep.

After particularly hardcore scenes, Buck will need a minute or two to come back to earth (especially when he first starting subbing for Tommy.) During this time, Tommy cleans him up, gets him water, maybe a snack, and lays next to him, running his hands through the younger's hair and down his cheek. When Buck comes back to himself, it can be a lot. Often times he needs lots of praise and reassurance and skin to skin contact. But there are times that Buck needs one of his boyfriend's hoodies, a movie or show in the background, and the most contact being one of Tommy's hands on his thigh or around his shoulders. He'll always fall asleep with the hoodie on only to wake up later, complain about how hot it is, and press his newly naked torso to his boyfriend's.

When the aftercare continues into the morning, whoever wakes up first either cooks breakfast or orders food (it's usually Tommy waking up first, years out of the military and he still can't break some of the habits.) The day is usually a lazy one, spent in little to no clothes or only each other's clothes. The farthest they'll go is lazy makeout sessions. Except for that one time that Buck had ever so desperately begged to give Tommy a blowjob, only to nearly fall asleep with Tommy's cock in his mouth, his head resting against the older man's thigh. Needless to say, cockwarming become a regular thing after that.

Bonus:

Tommy has been out of practice for a long while, at least a couple of years. He was just as nervous their first time as Buck was.

Buck still is recovering from his Buck 1.0 days. It's something that Tommy notices and helps him through by getting Buck into sex therapy (with a therapist who isn't going to take advantage of him) and will come to sessions when asked.

feel free to come scream at me in my asks about these :D

[agentem]

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

I'm very worried Lionsgate will play up the "romance" between Lucy Gray and Snow for the marketing of The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. (Although I also saw some people complaining the actor, Tom Blythe, is too old for the role. He is. He's 28 playing a teenager. But in my dreams they did that on purpose to make him seem like a creeper. That is probably giving them too much credit.)

And then there is a whole segment of the fandom that is like "I hate this book. I wanted a Haymitch prequel. This book isn't fun." (I get it; I wanted a Mags book.)

No, it's not the book people wanted. It's the book people needed.

Suzanne Collins sat down and was like, "Girls, here are the kind of motherfuckers you gotta stay away from." He's narcissistic and controlling from the jump and the book is about how he becomes a tyrant and melomaniac.

Yes, he's the "star." But he's the star like the Predator is the star. Or Jason Vorhees.

Lucy is doing her best to be the 'final girl'. And she's doing. great. GREAT!

I don't know why people thought Suzanne Collins was going to give us a fun fan service novel after she ended the trilogy with "Mockingjay". My girl is so hardcore. We don't deserve her.

[lemongrablothbrok]

Led Zeppelin - Whole Lotta Love - Earl's Court 05-24-1975 Part 17

Okay, listen up people, Zep-heads, Jimbert shippers especially, because this video is un-fucking-believable in so many ways, and all of them good ways and I have a lot to say about it, mmkay? To start out, we have the boys coming out to do an encore, and Robert just...reclines on the platform thingy like the decadent demigod he is and eats whatever he's eating while Bonzo, the most laddish member of the group, in a fluffy robe, no less, declares that he finds football to be "a load of bollocks". Robert, almost certainly the most effeminate member of the group (I guess one might be able to argue that Jimmy - with his delicate features and willowy physique and soft speaking voice - might be a little more effeminate, but that's neither here nor there, the point still stands, and that point is that Robert is a pretty pretty princess), stands right up to defend the sport that he's so passionate about (side note: anyone know why he says "soccer" and not "football"? Because I can't think of another British person who calls it that. The first few times I heard him use it, it was during interviews with American interviewers and/or for American TV shows or publications, so I thought it was just for clarity so they know he's not talking about American football, but this is a concert in Britain with, I'm assuming, a mostly British audience. Anyone know why he calls it that?).

The song kicks off with Robert and Jimmy doing, as I referred to a few days ago on a post featuring a gif from this performance, "backwards humping", or, "the bisexual secret handshake". They are so shameless in their weird ass public courtship display that you might just miss seeing Jonesy's beautiful smile in the background (and if you do, take that video back a few seconds and freaking look at that gorgeous smile. You'll thank me later).

When we get to the first chorus, Robert freaking throws one arm around Jimmy's shoulder, pulling him close to share the microphone, and I shit you not, Jimmy's foot pops. And if that weren't enough, Robert pulls away for a second just to look at Jimmy's face and smile, only to pull him in closer again. Get a room, you dorks. Then when the second chorus comes around, they have the stupidest lovesick smiles on their faces, which are so close together they can probably taste each other's breath. Then Jimmy sort of pushes off with this shoulder nudge and one of them (Jimmy, I think? I sounds like Robert, but Robert's already in the middle of a drawn out vocal, so I think it's Jimmy) gives this soft little grunt/sigh/suspiciously sexual sounding noise. They spend a moment doing a short rendition of (I think?) James Brown's "sex machine" (worth noting/remembering here that Led Zeppelin have their own tribute to James Brown in "The Crunge", a song that gives off all the bisexual energy that's considered safe for human consumption), and then...then...

...we get to the theremin segment. The motherfucking theremin segment. The climax, if you will, of this entire performance. The part where Jimmy and Robert have hardcore sex right there on stage, right there in front of their audience, at least half of whom is probably male, and the vast majority of whom at least claim to be heterosexual, since this is the 1970s and there's very real consequences in store if you're a dude who goes around telling people out loud that one of the main reasons you go to Led Zeppelin concerts is to see and hear obscenely beautiful men fuck each other's brains out. Or even admit that you're aware that's just what's going on on that stage. Yes, this is the part where Jimmy does incredible things with his hands and long slender little fingers that make Robert moan and scream like a particularly horny banshee. Look, there's no getting around it. Even before I shipped it, I had to acknowledge (if in kind of a jokey-jokey way) that, wow, Jimmy is really dedicated to seeing how much and how hard he can make Robert cum. And Robert, in turn, is doing everything he can to let Jimmy know just how much and how hard he's cumming. Which is very much, and very hard. Some things to note are the way Robert not only mimics the sounds that the theremin is making, but also some of Jimmy's gestures, like when Jimmy puts both hands up in the air and then we see Robert doing the same. Meanwhile, the rhythm section are doing their thing, John Paul Jones' bassline providing the sort of bow-chicka-wow-wow type soundtrack to this auditory gay porn. Also, around 5:45, you can hear the bass do something that sounds an awful lot like "Achilles' Last Stand", which at this point hasn't been written yet, but that particular riff has been and will be used in concerts for quite a while before ending up in said homoerotic epic.

What really, really gets me about this performance, though, is what happens at around the six minute point, when Jimmy goes to grab his guitar back from offstage and Robert just has this look on his face. He's saying "ooh, ooh," slowly sauntering in Jimmy's direction, looking straight at him, his eyes filled with what can only be described as pure lust. This part isn't for the audience. Most of the audience can't see Robert's face with the direction he's facing, and those that can are too far away to be able to see it. He's not faking this. He's not pretending to be horny or desperate to be provocative, not in the look he's giving Jimmy, anyway. I'm not sure if the look in his eyes here is one that can be faked. Oh no. He feels it.

And then Robert gets back to singing, "Feel a little lonely, in the middle of the night. I need you darlin', to make things alright." And who is he looking directly at as he sings this? Just take a wild guess.

tl;dr: Robert and Jimmy are about as subtle as a rainbow fireworks display spelling out "WE'RE BISEXUAL DISASTERS IN LOVE"

[dramarec]

Theerapanyakul Foundation Hospital

What would happen if the Theerapanyakuls were a dynasty of doctors instead of criminals? - A silly and self indulgent AU

Korn: cardiac surgeon, transplant specialist. Classic god complex paired with irrealistic expectations for everyone, especially his own children.

Kinn: general surgeon, colorectal surgery specialist. Temperamental, but meticulous. Expects people to read his mind. Fucked (almost) every OR nurse he worked with. He chose a surgical speciality to appease his father, but honestly he would have preferred something less invasive.

Tankhun: Planned to go into cardiac surgery, but avoids contact with patients after a traumatic experience. Works in theoretic medicine. Has unlimited research funds thanks to his family, which he uses to model the pathophysiology of extremely rare diseases in goldfish. There's like a grand total of 5 people around the world who understand his papers. They are actually groundbreaking, just in a very niche area.

Kim: still a singer, gives no fucks.

Vegas: maxillofacial surgeon. Failed to get in medschool on the first try, so he did Dentistry first and then General Medicine. Hardcore. Despite being fucking terrifying, maxillofacial surgery is not as well respected as Kinn's field.

Macau: is not expected to go into medschool. If he had to chose a speciality, he'd like to become an ortho bro.

Porsche: young hotshot paramedic. Thinks he knows better than everyone, and flirts with everything that moves. Very dedicated. Patients love him, doctors hate him. Absolutely no work-life balance.

Chay: is told not to pursue a carreer in healthcare daily by a very tired Porsche Pete: prenatal ICU nurse. Looks and acts adorable. The literal strongest.

Arm: biostatistican of Tankhun. Riddled with the impossible task of turning the weird fish his boss plopped down his desk into coherent data.

Pol: jack of all trades. Has been observed to work in every department, but no one's really sure what his actual role is. (It's committing medical malpractice for Tankhun.)

Big: the only male nurse in the general surgery ward Kinn has not fucked. (Actually, every nurse in the hospital is male, because Kinnporsche) Is vocally planning murder every time he has to register a patient Porsche has brought in, and read the complete bullshit Porsche calls "documentation".

Ken: secretly works shifts at general surgery and maxillofacial surgery as well. Biggest gossip.

Chan: That nurse. Queen of the motherfucking needles. Can create venous access in a geriatric patients with no functioning veins by throwing a canule at him like a darts. His department would probably run smoother if he was in charge and not some stupid doctor.

Tay: anesthesiologist. Highly skilled but prefers to work behind the scenes. Spends most of his day solving crossword puzzles and reading fashion magazines in the OR, while complaining that Kinn takes too long (again), and he'll have to work overtime (again). He is always correct. Saved Kinn's ass multiple times. 

Time: OBGYN. Chronically late. Dismissive attitude. Not only did he fuck every nurse, intern and assistant, he fucked some husbands of his patients as well.

Nampheung: dermatologist. Does not age.

Gun: Failed to get into medschool.

[isa-ghost]

Hey, do you have any Phil & Charlie hcs or perhaps Phil & Foolish?

I'm having such a struggle picking which fucking one to do bc on one hand Foolish probably has more material to work with but on the other I've seen Phil and Charlie interact so much (but like outside of qsmp) that I'd have a way better idea of their dynamic. Charlie Slimecicle log on qsmp more often you talented fuck.

Anyway we're gonna attempt some Phil/Foolish ones. I think they're called Immortals or some shit?? Idr.

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Phil had no fucking clue what Foolish's deal was prior to being paired with him on Bolas. He knew he was a goofy happy-go-lucky and talented guy that?? Maybe had allegiances with the Feds?? Hard to tell?? He thought it was a bit tbh. But Purgatory opened Phil's eyes up and he learned that yeah, he's kinda right to a degree. But there are still layers to Foolish despite how Just Vibing he is.

And holy shit can he TELL Foolish has the capacity to be terrifying. You're telling me an immortal shark-totem hybrid doesn't have the ability to kill a motherfucker violently??? NAH. Phil can tell if enough of the right buttons are pushed, Foolish would snap and tear a bitch to shreds. Likely for Leo.

Phil's not entirely sure he can trust Foolish bc he's so unclear about where his loyalties lie, but Phil CAN tell that Foolish keeps it that way for a reason, and Phil thinks it's smart. Despite not entirely trusting him, he believes Foolish wouldn't like. Sell out his friends for a corn chip, yknow?

Now when you take all the serious out of these two though, THEN it gets interesting. Foolish is one of the islanders that has the easiest time getting Phil to let loose. It's just contagious, Foolish is too silly.

At the same time Phil looks at him and is just like ???? How the fuck does he smile through the horrors like that ???? Like clearly he's aware Situations suck and he's anxious like anyone else so how does he have the willpower to be silly and chill???? Phil envies it. He's too full of anxiety. Survivalist's curse.

Foolish's laugh is pure serotonin to Phil. And kryptonite, Foolish's laugh makes Phil laugh. He can't help it. Motherfucker sounds like a window washer squeegee thing when he's dying.

They have 2 very different flavors of immortality to me and while I don't know how a conversation about it would go bc Foolish is so casual and Phil is so? Not secretive but like. Not nonchalant about it? There's still something there that the ccs should cook on. I'm begging them to, in fact.

Also something about how one of them has deep ties to the air and the other technically has deep ties to the sea. Something about that. Especially when used in like, a serious situation. Like spying on the Federation or some shit. Do you see my vision. Using their inborn abilities to their advantage while in collaboration with each other for the sake of them and their friends. Do you see it.

Phil: Gifting shed feathers to trusted loved ones 🤝🏻 Foolish: Gifting lost shark teeth to trusted loved ones

I don't headcanon Phil as a short king like the entire rest of the fandom apparently does but obviously Foolish is fucking enormous compared to 99% of people, Phil included. If Phil could fly he'd spitefully hover just a little higher than Foolish's full height just to mess with him.

FUCKING. TALENTED BIG BUILDS DUO. SHAKING THEM BY THE SHOULDERS WHEN WILL THEY COLLAB. (The kids beg for this often)

Foolish has no idea if he's some kinda deity or if he's just immortal with some kinda weird totem roots and it drives Phil insane bc the hardcore deities have such a different energy than him yet you're telling him (maybe) both are divinity??

Speaking of the hardcore deities, Phil desperately wants to introduce Foolish to the Ocean Overlord bc they're (maybe) both himbo gods with some sort of tie to the ocean that are just vibing their asses off. (Oh my god wait I'm cooking on that idea. Doozers let's cook together on this).

Phil is jealous that Foolish can still swim, the thing he's deeply connected to (esp with those cosmetic fins he has) but he can't fly, the thing he's deeply connected to. But really it's just that Foolish is lucky bc the Federation would have to horrifically butcher him more or less in order to take away his ability to swim properly. Phil's easier to forcibly contain.

Believe it or not, if a situation arose where it was necessary, Phil would pick Foolish for his team (again) in a heartbeat. He may not be as passionate about fighting as Etoiles, or as ruthless as Fit, but hes powerful nonetheless, a trusted friend, has been in that situation with Phil before, and is a beacon of positivity; excellent for morale. Silly disposition and weird alliances aside, Foolish is an invaluable addition to a team from an objective perspective.

[twwings]

Big Festivids Recs Post!

Last weekend was the big Festivids GoLive, which meant the release into the wild of 160 brand new small fandom vids (aka fanvids, edits, etc.) Right now the collection's anonymous, but tomorrow is vidder reveals, so I wanted to write up a recs post for some of my absolute favourites from this year's collection. If you know Yuletide, well, Festivids is like Yuletide, celebrating small/weird/underappreciated fandoms! It's an exchange fest, so people ask for the small fandom vids of their heart and, then, receive one.

Honestly the collection this year is SO high quality, you should really go and browse the works yourself in their entirety; there are so many vids that I absolutely loved that I didn't put on this recs list, because I was trying not to get carried away (and also trying to get it done). But just to get you started, here are a smattering of my favourites. I tried to represent a bunch of vid genres and source types here, but ultimately it's just my taste.

RECS RECS RECS!

Andor: Level Up

AHHHH this is a vid about Andor and fascism and collective action and One Way Out and it's so gorgeously done. Perfect song choice, perfect vid, makes me cry and I will rewatch it many times.

Andor: be ready and be brave

Focusing on Ferrix, its history, its people, and its revolution. Absolute chills. Also I'm SO happy whenever I get to watch a vid to a Mountain Goats song.

Mosquita y Mari: como siempre soñé

Such a sweet, soft, slow romance vid. I ACHED for these two. Like reading a 300k slowburn but in three and a half minutes.

Dropout TV: Nothing in my Head

The Dropout TV vid of my DREAAAAAMS! (largely Game Changer but with lots of stuff in there!)

Taskmaster UK: Blood in the Cut

UHHHH. IT'S AMAZING??? It's hot and raw and kinky and hardcore. the vidder has the delicate, precise touch of a bloody scalpel. Yes, this is a vid for Taskmaster, the UK show where comedians do silly tasks. Because yeah, it's that show, but it's also this show.

Slash/Back: Uja

This vidder KNOWS how to vid horror. The way this vid cuts the most terrible images to make them barely-there, more horrifying for being rough slaps against my consciousness . . . yikes. Amazing vidding, super cool and scary, while also maintaining the uplifting, kickass, hopeful tone you want from a collective-action horror movie.

Janelle Monae: I Like That

Glorious, joyful, sexy celebration of being a free-ass motherfucker.

Star Trek: Lower Decks: Hard Times

Boimler vid about how he's essentially a redshirt who is just slightly too sweet to actually die. Absolutely adorable and hilarious.

Woman King: Upside Down

Absolute BANGER of a vid, great cuts, great movement, great character arc and great Dahomey women being amazing.

Romeo + Juliet: Magnetic

We all agree Harold Perrineau is the best Mercutio, SO, with that in mind, here is a flawless celebration of the best Mercutio.

Knives Out/Glass Onion: 'Til You Hit a Nerve

Brilliant comparison vid putting Marta from the first film together with Helen and Andi from the second one, drawing out the similarities and dissimilarities in a visual feast and with a badass powerwalk. Nothing not to love!

David Cronenberg's Films: body

This one is phenomenal. It takes David Cronenberg's entire filmography and condenses it into a vid about all the sexualized body horror. It is deeply horny and deeply disturbing and deeply fascinated by every single finger going into a hole in a body that shouldn't be there. It's soft and tentative and it's very graphic and violent, all at once.

The Wheel of Time: Velodrome

Tower politics and circularity and being bound to one another in every good way and every bad way; what a beautiful vid. I love how this is about a place, and about how that place draws these people together over and over in their shared experience and love and trauma.

The Midnight Sky: The Laughing Heart

Absolutely gorgeous vid of the film to a spoken word + music rendition of Charles Bukowski's "The Laughing Heart" (there is a light somewhere). I have not seen this film but I found this vid deeply moving.

Moby Dick: Queequeg and I

There are four (FOUR!!!) Moby Dick vids at Festivids this year, and they are all amazing combinations of a huge smorgasboard of sources, I heartily recommend them all, but I'll specifically rec two. This one is Queequeg and Ishmael to "Wouldn't It Be Nice" and it is the sweetest queerest thing ever. Queequeg and Ishmael get a happy ending shhhhh they do shhhhh yes this is how it happened they came out of the water they're fine

Moby Dick: a vulture feeds upon the heart forever

This vid is a fucking masterpiece. It is a huge archival multisource Moby Dick vid that weaves all these incredibly different visual together to make a coherent, tragic narrative. And like. The BOOK is not a coherent narrative! This is such gorgeous and amazing fanwork. Don't miss out on it.

Women's 100m Sprinting: Didn't Come to Play

This is GORGEOUS, I don't know anything about sprinting but I know I love these beautiful joyful powerful women running really fast and hugging each other and being amazing. The editing on this is so tight; the vid never stops for a second. Like a sprint?!?!?!

The Golem and the Jinni: סיפור הגולם

This is another book vid, but since this book doesn't have any adaptations, it's using entirely archival source and probably some documentaries and films to construct the story - or, really, construct the vibe of the book, construct the metaphors of the book, and the result is beautiful and powerful and meditative. It's about survival, and making life.

Jesus Christ Superstar: Hope on Fire

This is another umbrella vid, where the vidder is taking a bunch of different productions of the play and mashing them together. This vid focuses on Judas and Jesus/Judas, and it all feels so inevitable and tragic and real and cruel. I really loved it.

Jordan Peele's Films: Goodbye, Honey, You Call That Gone

This is such a wonderful mashup of Jordan Peele's three films, exploring all the parallels and differences and just the rich tapestry of his imagery.

猎罪图鉴 | Under the Skin: Put It On Me

I don't know this source but this was just so gorgeously put together; there's a focus on art and art objects, on hands moving and creating, that's just mesmerizing.

[vigilvntes]

A Little Company – Adrian Chase x Reader

A/N: this is a prequel to I got so fucking romantic, I apologise (which you can find on my masterlist!!) like this is quite literally just a fic of how vigilante and shadow from that fic met. you don't have to read the other fic, like at all! it's totally optional! but vigilante!reader x adrian is my favourite thing, and i have SO many ideas for this concept, including a direct follow on from this fic so if you want it?! let me know?!

feel free to send me fic/headcanon requests !!!

likes and rbs are appreciated <3

W/C: 4k+

Warnings: language, violence (use of knives, guns etc), mentions of kidnapping, vigilante being a Weird Little Guy™️

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

“Hey, what're you doing?”

You don't panic. Instead, you drop your sniper from your shoulder quickly, cringing slightly when it hits the concrete of the rooftop. You stand up and twist your body, stepping away from the edge of the rooftop to press a gun up to the masked forehead of your interruptor. It seems he had the same idea, as his gun is firmly pressed against the black leather of your mask before you can even blink.

“Who the fuck are you?” You hiss.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“I asked first, motherfucker! I swear you better tell me who you are and why the fuck you're here or I won't hesitate to pull the trigger.” You threaten, gripping your gun tighter. Your finger brushes over the trigger. A warning.

“Maybe I won't hesitate either.” He retorts.

“Then. Don't.”

The two of you stare at each other for a few moments. Well, you assume he's staring right back at you, the red visor covering his eyes makes it hard to tell. Eventually, he lets out a quiet sigh, “Fuck. Fine.” He raises his gun-free hand, showing you that he's somewhat surrendered. “You're fuckin’ hardcore.”

“Tell me who you are.” You demand. He may have relented pretty quickly, but he has one last chance to explain who he is before you decide it's not worth the trouble and blow his brains out.

“Vigilante.”

“Vigilante?” You scoff. It has to be the most stupid, on the nose name you've ever heard.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “My friends call me Vig. But we're not friends, so you can't call me that.”

Yeah, no shit, you think.

“And let me guess, you're a vigilante?” You mock, fighting back the urge to laugh with all of your strength. You feel slightly bad when you notice his shoulders sink. But then you remember that he interrupted your mission, and then you feel slightly less bad about it.

‘Vigilante’ drops the gun from your forehead. “Yeah, and what about it? I bet your name isn't any better!” He sounds genuinely offended.

You return the favour and drop your arm. “Really? Because I don't think it can get any worse than ‘Vigilante’. I mean, that's so uncreative, man. And it's a shame, because I'm actually really digging the suit.”

He visibly tenses, “Oh. You like my suit?” His hands pat at the utility belt sitting on his waist and the coloured stripes on his chest. “I made it myself.” He tells you, sounding almost shy about it. You can hear the smile in his voice, though.

“Yeah. It's really cool, actually. I like the visor. Does it… do anything?”

Vigilante tucks his gun back into his belt, swaying on his heels slightly. “Nah. I mean, I wear glasses so… it's a prescription visor. That's all it does. Helps me see.”

You can't fight off the giggle that escapes from your throat, so you allow it. Just this once. “Your visor is prescription?! Dude, you have to be shitting me.”

He breathes out a laugh, “Yeah. It was a pain in the ass to get a hold of. I almost exposed my secret identity, like, three times.”

You nod, somewhat sympathetic to his situation. “Yeah, I can imagine.” You know all about almost exposing your secret identity. Having multiple black leather masks delivered to your house every month is probably a cause for concern. You're sure your delivery service, and even your neighbours, either think you're a murderer (which isn't exactly untrue) or a dominatrix.

“Uh, your suit is cool, too. It's… fitting. Not in that way, though. I just mean that… It suits you! Not that I would really know since I haven't seen your face and we've only just met. It's also fitting in the other way, just in case you were wondering. It hugs your body just right.” He nods once, an affirmation of his words before he awkwardly folds his arms across his chest. You just stare at him for a few moments.

You're not sure why you're talking to him, or why you're allowing him to overstay his welcome like this (not that you'd given him a warm welcome anyway). Anyone else would have been dead at your feet within minutes if they pulled a gun on you like he did. But Vigilante is… surprisingly charming. There's an awkwardness about him, but the charm is definitely there. Not to mention he's made you laugh. Sure, you were laughing at him more than with him, but it's still a point in his favour.

You shake your head, stopping your own thoughts before they wander any further. You still have a mission to complete. “Well, it's been nice talking to you. I have to, uh… Get back to it.” You tell him, using your thumb to gesture over your shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah. Cool.” Vigilante nods at you, giving you a thumbs up before nervously scratching at the back of his neck.

“Cool…” You say under your breath. You turn your attention away from him and pick up your sniper, hoisting it back over your shoulder again. You hear no footsteps, but you assume he's gone. Maybe he's just light on his feet.

So, you kneel down at the edge of the rooftop and look through the scope. A wave of relief rushes through your body when you see that the men you had been tailing through Evergreen all night, the bastards who currently have a young woman tied up in the trunk of their car, are still standing outside of the abandoned building across the street. They're still waiting for their contact to arrive. They're still an easy target. If you shot one of them right now, and the other ran, you're confident in your ability to take him down before he could even make it halfway down the street. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and set your sights perfectly, just two seconds away from pulling the trigger. And then—

“So what are we doing?”

You drop your rifle for the second time tonight, your shot once again ruined by fucking Vigilante. When you turn your head, you see him knelt down beside you, observing the scene. Shaking your head incredulously, you scoff, “We are not doing anything. I— Why are you still here?” He's well and truly overstayed his welcome, and you're getting pissed off.

“I don't know. Figured I could help.” He mumbles, shrugging his shoulders casually.

“I don't need your help.” You spit back.

“In my defence, I never said you needed my help. Maybe I just wanna help? I can be your backup. Not— Not that you need backup. I'm sure you can handle it on your own. But those guys look tough— Not that you're not tough, either. I just don't really have anything to do tonight. My buddy’s banging a girl he met at a bar last night and—...”

A harsh sigh from you cuts him off. “Those guys have a woman in the trunk of their car. I don't know who she is, but I can only assume they're planning to sell her or kill her. I found out about their plans earlier tonight from a contact of mine but I couldn't stop them from taking her in time. So I’m stopping them now. Satisfied?” You give him a pointed look.

He nods, and your gaze lingers on him for a moment longer before you go back to looking down the scope, lining up your aim.

“Hey, you never told me your name.”

“Vigilante…” Your voice is low. A warning. This is a race against time and you can't allow yourself to be distracted like this for much longer. If the girl was taken inside, your job would get a whole lot harder. You want to avoid that, if possible.

A quiet, “Sorry.”

Sighing for what feels like the hundredth time, you mumble, “Shadow. You can call me Shadow.”

“Shadow?!” He exclaims suddenly, making you jump slightly. You can only hope he didn't catch that.

“Yeah…?”

“You ripped on me for Vigilante and your name is Shadow?!”

You look over at him, your mouth agape, “Are you kidding me?! Shadow is a fucking cool name! It's simple and effective!”

It's Vigilante’s turn to laugh now, and boy is he rubbing it in. He leans back on his heels, his hands clutching at his stomach. “And let me guess, you're called Shadow because you kill in the shadows?” He mocks, throwing his head back as he laughs.

“Oh, I'll be killing you in the shadows if you don't shut the fuck up.” You threaten. If looks could kill, Vigilante would be dead ten times over. Oh, how you wish looks could kill.

“I just don't understand how you could possibly think that ‘Shadow’ is a cooler name than Vigilante.”

You roll your eyes, glancing back down the scope, “I don't understand why you th– Fuck.”

“What is it?”

The men are gone. The car is, to your relief, still parked up outside of the building. You can only assume the woman is in there with them, and their contact has arrived. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking FUCK. The last thing you wanted was for them to move their business inside.

Your job just got a lot harder.

You stand up quickly (your sniper hitting the ground for the third time), sheathing your knife and pointing it at Vigilante. He lets out an ‘oh fuck’ as he scrambles backwards, away from the knife that's currently a mere ten centimetres away from his face.

“I could fucking kill you. Right here, right now.” You hiss, venom laced into your tone. You're seeing red. It's tempting to just plunge the knife right into his skull.

“Me?! Why me?!” He squeaks out, looking up at you from the ground.

“Because you fucking distracted me! If you weren't here then I could've had this whole thing finished by now!” You want to scream in frustration. This is just one of the many reasons why you always work alone. Why you don't see the point or the appeal in having a partner anymore. Alone, you're completely in control. You don't have to look out for anyone else, and there's less opportunity for distraction. “I should've killed you the minute I saw you, because now I'm paying the price for being nice. I should kill you right now…” You pause, your breathing heavy and angry, nostrils flaring as you curse yourself internally for what you're about to say. “But I won't. Because I could use some help.”

He's silent for a moment, then he carefully asks, “You… You want me to help you?”

You roll your eyes and shove your knife back into its holster, “Yes.”

“Y–You need my help?” He stutters over his words, and if you were in any other situation, you might have found it kind of cute. Unfortunately for both of you, you're not.

“I don't need your help. I can handle myself. What I said is that I could use your help. It'd be useful to me.” You pat your body down quickly, accounting for all of your weapons. Gun number one? Check. Gun number two? Check. Knives? Check. Extra ammo? Check. You'll come back for the sniper. “And if you ask me to repeat myself for a third time, I'm gonna change my mind.” And I might just kick you right off the rooftop.

You don't even give him a chance to ask again, because you're already halfway across the rooftop, making your way to the shaky ladders you climbed to get up there earlier in the night. It's only when you turn your body and carefully place your foot on the top step, hands gripping the rusty bars, that you realise he isn't following you. He's just staring at you from where you left him on the hard concrete. “Well? Are you coming?” You demand a final answer.

“Fuck yeah, I am.” He mumbles, picking up his gun before scrambling to his feet and following you.

You both scale down the ladder, quickly descending until your feet hit the ground. That's when you start to panic, just a little bit. You prefer to be on higher ground, to have some kind of territorial advantage over your targets. It's not that you're bad at ground work, you just like to keep your hands as clean as possible. Literally.

Vigilante joins you on the ground, and the two of you get moving. You make your way around the building you'd been perched on only minutes ago, pressing your body against the wall on the corner when you reach the street, hiding yourselves in the shadows.

It's quiet. Buzzing streetlights and Vigilante’s quiet breathing is the only thing you can hear. Your own racing heartbeat, too. But you want to forget about the anxiety that's burrowed itself into the pit of your stomach. You can see the abandoned building. It's directly across the street from you, and the door is closed. You'll have to find your own way in. A window that you can shimmy through or another door around the back with a lock you can quietly pick at. Then you'll have to figure out how to not cause a commotion. You'll have to be stealthy, making a point to not—

“This kinda feels like a date.” Vigilante’s voice throws you off, ruins your concentration. You take your eyes off of the building and glance up at him with narrowed eyes, brows furrowed under your mask. He continues, “The more I think about it, this kinda is a date.”

“How is this a date?” You ask, bewildered because never in your life would you take rescuing a girl from a group of kidnappers to be a date.

“I don't know. I mean, this whole situation is kinda romantic, if you think about it. It could be classed as a date.” He shrugs.

"Romantic? Really?"

"Yeah. When you pulled the knife on me it was, like, the hottest thing I've ever seen. I honestly thought you were gonna kill me, but you didn't. And now I get to think about that moment forever. That's romance."

Vigilante has stunned you into silence. You can only stare up at him, mouth agape as he looks down at you. You're hoping he'll burst into laughter, and tell you that his warped idea of romance is just a joke. That he's just playing around. But he doesn't, so you just tell him, "This is not a date. I don't even know who you are.”

“Uh, yeah. You do. I’m Vigilante.” He tells you, sounding ever so slightly offended that you might have forgotten his name in the twenty minutes you've known him.

“That's not what I meant. I don't know who you really are. And you don't know who I am.”

Vigilante scoffs, “That's so irrelevant. Our alter-egos know each other and they could totally date. Like in those spy movies. The ones where the main characters hate each other but they're forced to work together under their alter-egos and eventually they fall madly in love.” He lets out a sigh that almost sounds… dreamy. As if he believes that this scenario is going to play out exactly that way.

You're hellbent on telling him otherwise. “This isn't a date. There's gonna be no falling madly in love, or whatever. You ruined my plan, and now you're helping me. And when we're finished here, we go our separate ways. That's the end of this story.”

Unfortunately, you and Vigilante make a pretty good team.

You were so hoping he'd be useless. That you had an excuse to never want to see him again after tonight. But you soon found out that he's smart, strategic. Capable. As soon as the two of you entered the building, he was focused and driven. That quirky persona he had before was no more. Vigilante was more than happy to take the lead for you; he snuck up behind the fuckers who kidnapped the woman and drove his knife into their skulls with precision and an alarming amount of stealth, holding his hand over their mouths until he was sure they weren't breathing anymore.

You didn't mind this arrangement, the less literal blood on your hands, the better.

Eventually, the two of you come to a halt outside of a small room right at the back of the building. You press your ear up against the wooden door, cursing when you hear a male voice coming from inside followed by muffled whimpers and cries.

“She's in there. With the contact.” You whisper to Vigilante. The guys you'd been tailing through Evergreen are already dead, lying in a puddle of their own blood near the entrance. You can only assume the fucker they were planning to sell the girl to is the owner of the voice.

“Want me to go in and fuck him up?” He whispers back.

You think about it for a moment. These guys have been pissing you off all night. You've been through a lot of trouble to save this girl. Of course, you don't mind. If it means she's safe, that's all that matters to you. But you would like to get the final blow. So, you reply, “No. I got this.”

Slowly, you take your knife out of your holster, and before you can even think about talking yourself out of it, you kick the door. It swings open violently, hitting the wall with a loud crash and you're sure you broke at least one of the hinges. Who cares? It's not like the building’s going to be used for anything other than criminal activity.

The man inside lets out a loud and confused ‘what the fuc–', but you move too quickly for him. You kick in his knees before he can even think about turning around or creating his own plan of attack. He's on his knees, wide-eyed and panicked, and you have one arm wrapped around his neck to hold him in place while the other holds your knife, pressing against the tender, stubbly skin of his neck.

He's younger than you expected him to be. When you heard the woman was being sold to a contact, you expected him to be some sick freak in his mid 50s. But no, he's probably younger than you; and given the way he's thrashing around in your hold, he's probably more inexperienced than you.

He's working for someone, and you'll find a way to get it out of him.

The woman is in the corner, watching the scene with wide eyes and muffled screams coming from her duct taped mouth. You give her a slow nod, trying to reassure her that you're not here to kill her. That you're on her side and you will get her out of here. She seems to calm down ever so slightly.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. P–Please don't kill me. I–I’ll do anything. Anything you want. You can have the girl. You can have whatever you want. Money? Do you want money? I–I can pay you! Please I— I have kids.” The man begs, his voice shaking.

“Ew. Why would we want your kids?” Vigilante asks from behind you, and the sudden appearance of a second voice only makes him panic more.

You can't help but roll your eyes at his squirming and pleading. “Why did you take her?” You ask.

“I– I don't know. I don't know anything. I swear!” He tells you.

Of course you don't believe that, so you press your knife against his neck harder, nicking at the skin, making sure you draw some blood. He lets out a sob, and in response Vigilante lets out a quiet laugh. “I don't believe you. Why did you take her?” You ask again.

“I– I don't know. I– I was just told to collect her. I think she– She tried to sell us out. Boss wanted to–”

“Boss?” You ask slowly. So he is working for someone.

“Oh fuck. I'm fucking dead. He's gonna kill me. He's gonna fucking KILL ME.”

Vigilante approaches now, kneeling down in front of the man. He places a hand on his shoulder, a reassuring gesture. “Buddy, no. He's not gonna kill you. You don't have to worry about that.” For a moment you're confused. You didn't take Vigilante to be the sympathetic type. But then he says, “Because we're gonna kill you first.”

Ah. That makes more sense.

“Who are you working for?” You tighten your grip on his neck, your knife pressing into his skin harder. If you have to kill him before you find anything out, you will; you'd just prefer to get at least something from him. He stays quiet, only whimpering and sobbing quietly to himself. “Look, you're as good as dead anyway. You might as well tell me which asshole you're working for.”

A moment more of silence. You're just about to drag your knife across his throat when he shouts, “Scorpion! I'm working for Scorpion! The girl– She– The girl was gonna sell us out! She has information on us– I don't– I don't know how she got it! Fuck, I don't even know who she is!”

“Fuck.” You hiss. Of course it's Scorpion.

“Scorpion? Who the fuck is Scorpion?” Vigilante asks, glancing up at you.

You just shake your head and screw your eyes shut, slashing at the man’s throat quickly. It's a deep cut, and the blood flows from the wound like a waterfall. He lets out a strangled yell, gurgling and choking on his own blood before you push his body to the floor. He stills after a few moments.

“Check the body.” You tell Vigilante, and he obliges, reaching into the pockets of the man you just killed. You make your way over to the woman quickly, shoving your knife back into its holster.

She panics as you approach her, pressing her back against the wall. She whimpers and writhes in her restraints, and you can't blame her. If you were a witness to what she just saw, you'd probably be afraid of yourself too. But you kneel down in front of her, and tell her gently, “You're gonna be okay. You're safe now.” You take out your pocket knife slowly, and her eyes widen. “I'm just gonna use this to cut your restraints, okay? Then we’ll get you out of here.”

She seems to calm down a little, and you take the opportunity to cut the duct tape around her mouth, peeling it carefully until she takes a deep, frantic breath through her mouth.

“Hey, Shadow?” Vigilante calls from behind you, and you glance over your shoulder at him as he stands over the body, inspecting the wallet he found. “This guy’s name was Robert Robertson. How fucking lame is that? You know, I think we did him a favour. Who wants to live with a name like Robert Robertson?”

“Oh, his parents hated him.”

You go back to cutting the rope restraints around the her wrists and ankles as she watches you, breathing shakily everytime the metal brushes against her skin. You offer her quiet apologies. Eventually, she's free, and you stand up, offering her a hand.

She doesn't take it. Instead, she asks you in a small, scared voice, “You're not gonna kill me, right?”

“No. Of course not.” You reassure her.

She's not convinced by your words. She looks at you with pleading eyes, and then her gaze flicks behind you, prompting you to turn around. You see Vigilante standing just a few metres away from you, flipping his knife in the air and catching it. You scoff, “Dude, can you put that thing away? You're freaking her out.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled, tucking his knife back into its holster, kicking his feet like a scolded puppy dog.

“We're not gonna kill you. I promise.” You tell her, offering your hand again. This time, she takes it, allowing you to pull her up to her feet. She stumbles almost instantly in her exhaustion, every muscle in her body aching and sore; you catch her, calling out to Vigilante.

He picks her up, and the three of you make your way out of the building and into the street.

It doesn't take long for your contact, Erica, to arrive. The woman is reluctant to leave you, insisting that you should come with her for protection. It takes around ten minutes for you to convince her that she'll be safe without you; that you trust Erica and she'll be taken somewhere safe.

You wave her off, and not long after you find yourself back on the rooftop with Vigilante.

“So… Scorpion. Who's that?” He asks, sitting down beside you as you pack your rifle and other miscellaneous weapons into your grey duffel bag.

“How long have you been doing… this? Like, how long have you been Vigilante?”

He shrugs, “Maybe five or six years.”

“And you've never had any run-ins with Scorpion or his men?” You ask, and he shakes his head in response. Lucky bastard. “He runs the biggest underground black market for illegal weapons in Washington. He chose Evergreen as his base for operations because it's relatively quiet. I mean, who would expect something like that to be happening here? He's been on my radar for… a while. And I’m on his.”

“You've met him?”

You take a deep breath, a few moments decide your course of action. You could tell the truth, or you could lie. Lying seems like to be the most appealing option. "No. I haven't met him. But I've made sure to be a pain in his ass, for sure. He probably knows about me."

You stand up and sling your bag over your shoulder before he can respond, making it clear that you're not interested in carrying on this conversation. You barely know him, and you don't feel it's necessary to reveal everything to him. “Anyway. Thanks for tonight. For helping me out. Even though it was kinda your fault that I needed help. It was… fun. I guess.” Fun? Did you seriously just say that?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” He apologises, sheepish. "I had fun too. Just in case you were wondering."

A silence falls over the two of you, allowing some time for you to collect your thoughts. You meant it when you said that it'd be fun, and that freaks you out. It's been a while since you've spent time with anyone outside of your workplace. Having friends means having baggage, something that others can use as leverage; that's something you can't really afford to have.

“So… Is there any way that I could, like… contact you?” He asks, kicking his leg back and forth nervously, his shoe scuffing against the concrete.

“You… You want to contact me?”

Vigilante shrugs, “Yeah. I don't know about you, but I think we made a pretty good team. Unless you disagree. Then I think it was awful and we should go our separate ways and never do it again.”

“N-no. I think… Yeah. I agree.” You stutter. You fucking STUTTERED. How dare your voice betray you like this? You want to grab your own shoulders and shake yourself. Scream ‘THIS ISN’T YOU’. You've proven to yourself time and time again that you're ruthless. That you don't need anyone's help, or anyone to look out for you. Yet here you are, agreeing that you and Vigilante did make a pretty awesome team, and that maybe you'd be open to meeting with him again. What the fuck is wrong with you? You're truly fucked.

Still, you pull out your burner phone and hand it over to Vigilante, “You can just… y’know, put your number into there.”

So he does just that, handing your phone back to you. “So, you'll text me? Or.. call me? Whichever you prefer. I know some people prefer to text because it's less pressure–...”

“I'll text you.” You assure him, giving him a quick nod before making your way to the ladders, wondering what the fuck just happened and when you'd decided to start being friendly with random Vigilante’s. Especially Vigilante’s that are literally called Vigilante.

You still think it's a dumb name, but that does nothing to wipe the stupid grin off your lips as you make your way home.

[squishy-says]

I haven't actually written any hardcore smut of will being a top yet so here are some

William Afton sex hcs

This motherfucker bites. Hard. He may have a chipped tooth but that aint stopping him

Choking is his go to

He likes pet play, he likes seeing someone dehumanize themselves just for him. And his wife wont do it so. Henry is more than willing.

He has stopped sleeping with his wife cause he hates her and he often sleeps in his basement on the couch

Will is easy to force to bottom, and when he does hes a noisy whiny whore. Its so funny cause one minute hes controlling and then boom. Begging

He does like blood as a sex thing! Knife fetish havers where you at

Hes not.. un caring? To his partner? He is rough but only wants to hurt them until they are genuinely uncomfortable, otherwise how would he convince them to fuck him again?

WHOOOOOORE he cannot keep his hands off his partner and his hands tend to wander around their body

He is a scratcher. This man has longish nails tok so it hurts

When he bottoms he wants to be USED used. Not the "until your genuinely uncomfortable" he gives others. He wants to be BROKEN. Whooooore.

After he bottoms he hates himself

Ok i think thats it :)