#is this even clear? I worked on this in between down time of my zoom and after. if you don't like please tell me

[floralcyanide]

˚₊✩‧₊◜kinktober 2023! ―

― day one ⛧ cockwarming

Cillian Murphy x Reader

A routine Zoom call between you, Cillian, and his parents gets a little interesting.

warnings: smut, cockwarming, penetrative sex, semi-public sex, overstimulation, milking, unprotected sex

word count: 930

author's note: welcome to day one of kinktober! I'm so excited for this year and can't wait to write as much for this challenge as possible. I was going to have weeks planned out, but fell ill with pneumonia, so I'm two whole weeks behind. hopefully I'll complete the challenge! fingers crossed. if I don't, there's always next year! I hope everyone enjoys!! feedback is always appreciated (: (keep in mind most of the kinktober works will be short.)

kinktober masterpost | kinktober taglist form | main masterlist | main taglist form

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

When Cillian tells you to pull up your dress upon entering his office, you expect him to drop to his knees before you. Instead, he waves you over to where he’s sitting on his desk chair, motioning for you to sit on his lap. You look at him, confused for a moment, before doing as he wordlessly asked. You can feel Cillian fumble his hands behind you, his cold watch brushing against the warm skin of your tailbone that’s exposed from your lifted dress. You hear his zipper come undone, and that’s when you realize what he’s wanting. Cillian adjusts you on his lap so you’re hovering, and he aligns his length with your clothed entrance, teasing your clit through your underwear. He pushes the fabric to the side with his fingers, allowing his tip to brush against your wetness. You slowly push yourself onto him, and Cillian guides himself into you at a snail’s pace. You aren’t quite wet enough yet, so he takes his time. Once he’s wholly sheathed inside your warmth, Cillian grabs your hips so you can’t move.

“What are you doing?” you half laugh, half ask curiously.

“I want you to just sit here and be a good girl, alright?”

“That’s kind of hard with you inside me, Cill.”

“You can do it, baby. You’re so good for me.”

You shiver at his words as you watch him fiddle with his computer, opening Zoom. You gulp nervously and hope he isn’t about to have a sort of meeting while you’re warming his cock. You aren’t sure what you’d do if you had to act normal while Cillian’s thick, now-throbbing length is being squeezed by your walls. 

But something even worse happens- Cillian opens Zoom with his parents. You forgot it’s Sunday, which is the day he usually calls them. You gulp down your nervousness, trying to appear presentable.

“Oh, hi!” you grin at the sight of his mother popping up on the screen, trying not to react to how Cillian’s fingernails are digging into the delicate skin of where your hips meet your thighs.

“How are you, darling?” his mother asks sweetly.

Cillian thrusts into you, disguising it as a minor shifting in his chair, and you have to clear your throat to stifle a moan, “I’m well, thanks! And you?”

“Oh, we’re just fine,” CIllian’s father chimes in, “Taking good care of my son, I see?”

“Of course,” you nod your head, rubbing your palm along Cillian’s thigh out of sight, “He’s being a good boy as always.” you joke.

Cillian rolls his hips slowly, causing your hand to pause its movements and your nails to dig into his slacks. He then engages in conversation with his father as you maintain a healthy combo of eye contact with his parents and looking at Cillian behind you.

“Are you sitting on his lap, dear? Are there no chairs in his office?” Cillian’s mom asks out of the blue, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Still no extra chairs or furniture in here,” you poke Cillian’s cheek, “I’ve been telling him ever since we moved in, Mrs. Murphy.”

“Stubborn old thing,” his mother scolds playfully, “A new home needs its furniture!”

You begin to feel restless on Cillian’s cock, wishing for nothing more than to fuck him senseless. You want to end the call, spin around, and bounce on him for hours. But of course, until he gives the word, you can’t move.

“Well, we were just checking in to see how you were doing. We best be headed off now; love you,” Cillian waves to his parents.

They wave back, bidding farewells before Cillian ends the call. Silence fills the room, and all that can be properly heard is the sound of your ragged breathing.

“Please,” you whimper, “Let me move.”

“Then move.”

You shakily raise your hips until Cillian is almost outside you before slamming back down, your thighs hitting his. He lets out a strangled moan, hands gripping your sides tightly. 

“I’ve been wanting to teach you a lesson,” Cillian says through gritted teeth, letting you slowly lift and lower yourself along his cock, “About patience.”

“Lesson learned, then,” you sigh, spinning around to face Cillian, “I hear you loud and clear.”

You grab his cheeks as you pick up your pace of bouncing on his length, gaining a nice and steady rhythm. Cillian looks at you with glazed-over eyes, his tongue darting from his mouth to run over his lips. 

“Was the lesson worth it? Or was the patience killing you more than me?” you smirk.

“I'm not sure. There were times I wanted to take you over the desk on the call.”

“Really?” you wonder, “Maybe next time.”

“Not when on the phone, though,” Cillian warns.

“Alright,” you sigh, swiveling your hips around as your orgasm creeps into your stomach.

“Gonna cum,” Cillian mumbles lazily, thrusting himself into you in time with your movements.

“Please do, I’ve been waiting,” you pout.

Cillian twitches inside you, spilling his seed deep inside your cunt as you ride through your own impending release. Cillian lets you fuck yourself as much as you please despite his overstimulation, letting you milk him as your walls clench from your orgasm. You stop moving, catching your breath as Cillian watches you compose yourself.

“Definitely worth the wait,” you gasp, pushing hair from your face.

“Agreed,” Cillian exhales, leaning back in his chair.

“Can I stay here, though?” 

“On me?”

“Yes.”

Cillian pauses, weighing the pros and cons of you warming him as he does some emailing, “Fine.”

taglist:

@cillianswifefr @ins0mniac-whack @multifans-things @no-fooking-fighting @mypoisonedvine @madnessandobsession @Daviddeu @tiredkitten @lolabunny222 @gimmefood @preparedfruit @thecherrycocktail @thequeenoftheisleofavalon @lilyembry @scarlettlight06 @Gramelda @burnyouwithacigarettelighter @dunklerkeks1611 @reggxe-a @aviamulier @berlyrecords @dorknerdbeautiful @scribbuluswrites @ecstaticforus @vampireluck @doitmour1r @sharrren @desert-springtime @tuffy-floral @hllywdwhre @Death-by-bowie47 @moompie-blog @langdons-slut @cillymyfavdilf @generalvoidthing @luna047 @mg-i-have-issues @darlingsfandom @devotedly-sassy @banshailey @notevenellastein @cillsmurphys @ch3rry-co1a @elegantfacetree @ilikefictionalmen @juleshadalittlelamb @madnessandobsession @ceirinen @treac @Vrfilms @cillian-murph @sstar_ggirl @ecstaticforus @flwrs4aust

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[afroditisworld]

Salvatore

Spencer Reid x female!Reader

minors dni

Warnings : smut without a plot :)) reader is in her 20s praise kink and hands kink, oral (female received), switch Spencer, use of pet named (good girl, love, baby, brat, sweet) if you are not into that please do not read.

word count : 3k

Dating Spencer was never a plan. But here you were, falling for him more and more each day. He was not someone you expected to fall in love with; you didn't usually go for guys like him. But he had something that made you feel safe and understood at the same time. He was different from anyone you had ever dated before, which made him so special to you. You were younger than him, and you sometimes worried that you weren't what he needed in his life. But Spencer was always there to remind you that you were his safe person.

You didn't have always much time to spend together because of his work and your studies, but whenever that happened, it felt like time stood still and you were the only two people in the world. You went out for coffee or a date in a library, trying to find books for each other, and when you just wanted to relax, you would just lay on the sofa and read books.

Tonight was like this, with you two being too tired to go out but wanting to spend time together. He was at his desk, studying something for his new case. He had promised you that it wouldn't take long, but half an hour became one and then two, and you started getting bored. You didn't want to bother him, but your boyfriend was looking so damn good doing what he was good at, and you couldn't stop staring at him. His focused expression and the way his brow furrowed in concentration were oddly attractive to you. You wish he was more focused on you; however, you were afraid to ask for his attention.

You couldn't quit thinking about how beautiful his hands were. You loved how his fingers moved with precision and grace, making you feel an odd mixture of admiration and desire. The longer you watched him, the more you imagined him touching you. You couldn't stop thinking about his hands running down your body till they landed on the band of your pyjama shorts. Spencer knew it he wasn't naive. He noticed how you would stare at his hands and bite your lips. He saw how your gaze remained fixed on them while he was reading, or how you would simply stare at them when you assumed he wasn't paying attention.

"Spence, I... I just," You couldn't admit your desire for his hands; you were only hoping he wouldn't see through your frozen expression.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked. He sounded so calm, as if he hadn't caught you staring at his hands, and wishing he was doing something other than work.

"Yeah…why wouldn't I be?" You replied and gave him a forced and awkward smile, hoping he wouldn't ask anything more. The tension between you two was clear, but you attempted to hide it.

"Well, first of all, your face is kind of red, you were zooming out, and you were also staring at my hands." He spoke without breaking eye contact.

"I-I'm not staring," you responded quickly, attempting to explain yourself, but your stutter made you seem more guilty.

You could stop thinking how long have you been staring at his hands? What if he thought it was weird? What if you make him uncomfortable?

You hadn't dated Spencer for a while, and he didn't know all of your likes, so you were afraid to tell him.

When you finally mumbled, "I-I just... um, I really like your hands," you could feel the heat rising on your face. Spencer's face softened, a tiny smile spreading across his lips. "Well, in that case, I'll have to make sure to use them to hold yours more often," he said making you blush even more.

"Are you done with your work?" you asked eagerly, hoping to attract his attention.

With an innocent smile, Spencer shook his head and chuckled. "I have a few more things to finish up before I'm done," he said, noticing your disappointed look. "But I can come there and sit with you while I work if you'd like." You blushed again and nodded quickly, letting him know how much you wanted to touch you.

Your heart skipped a beat at Spencer's offer. You could feel his warmth and comfort spreading over you as he placed himself next to you. You looked at him, and you asked softly, "Can I lay with my head on your thigh?"

He nodded, and as your head rested on his leg, one of his hands played with your hair. You looked up to him with doe eyes and made yourself comfortable. Spencer's gentle touch and the way he stroked his fingers through your hair left you feeling desperate. Spencer's hand discovered your sweet place, and you let out a sweet groan. His touch caused shivers down your spine. You knew he was teasing you, so you placed your hand on his thigh and massaged small circles.

Your hands moved higher, attempting to reach the spot you desired the most. Spencer's breath caught as your hand came closer to where you wanted it, but it didn't get far. He grasped your wrist, and you glanced up at him innocently.

"Don't tease me, Y/N." You could see the desire in his eyes, which just increased yours. With a devilish smirk, you asked, "Who said I was teasing?" You felt like your entire body was on fire. You wanted him to touch, feel, and kiss you. He was so close and yet so far away; you weren't sure what got into you, whether it was his hands and how they made you feel or the way he played with your hair.

He looked down at you, smirking, and said, "Don't you want to be my good girl, Y/N?" His voice was deep but lovely, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your breath caught in your throat, and you nodded before even trying to process what he said.

"So don't tease me, love, and let me finish my job," he replied, releasing your wrist. But you weren't expecting this response, so you got up from his thighs . As you struggled to process his words, you felt a rush of eagerness and nervousness wash over you. You couldn't resist the anticipation of his domination, but you didn't want to wait.

"I don't want to wait," you said as you tilted your head. His eyes darkened, and he raised his eyebrows. "Impatient, are we?" he replied with a smirk, his hand trailing up your arm, leaving a small kiss on your shoulder. "I like that in you," he added before pulling you up to his lap. He left the file on the small table that was beside the sofa, and then his hands touched your waist.

He cupped the side of your face with one of his hands. "My girl's so needy that she can't even wait five more minutes," he said, and you bit your lips. His touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into his hand. "I can't help it when you're around," you whispered, feeling his grip tighten slightly in response. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours, and you melted into the kiss, feeling a rush of warmth run through your body. His touch was intoxicating, and you knew you'd never want to be anywhere else than in his arms. Your hands slid up his thighs to the button on his jeans as soon as he pulled back. He sighed and dropped his head back as you unbuttoned his jeans. You were so eager that you almost didn't recognise yourself.

Before you could even remove his trousers, he stopped you with his hand on your wrist.

"Not so fast," he whispered, kissing you again. Spencer changed your position within a minute.

Now you were sitting on the sofa with your legs open and Spence on his knees between them. His hands moved gently over your body, making you feel warm with excitement. His intense gaze at you caused your heart to rush even quicker.

He was now staring up at you with an eager grin. Spencer's hands moved from your waist to your thighs before touching your pyjama shorts. With your help, he carefully slipped them down, exposing more of your skin to his desperate gaze. The air between you cracked with longing; you couldn't wait any longer; you needed him to touch and feel you. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your sensitive core. He hadn't even touched you down there, but you knew you were wet; you could feel the frustration running through your body.

"Please, Spencer," you asked. You had no idea what you were begging for, but you were willing to accept whatever he offered you. He wet his lips and used his hands to remove your panties. You stared down at him and realised that even though he was on his knees, he had complete control, which he proved as soon as his hands reached your clit.

Spencer teased you more, wanting to hear the sounds you made as a reaction to the pleasure he gave you. You bit your lips and pushed your hips towards him, aching to feel more.

"Patient," he replied without breaking his sight from you. He looked at you with lust and need, but he refused to touch you unless you begged him to. You knew Spencer would always make the wait worthwhile.

“Please, Spencer just- do anything, please I need- Ah.” you didn't have the time to complete your sentence and Spencer's mouth was now on your clit. He always knew how to please you, especially when he would eat you out. He was a man with an eidetic memory after all, of course he knew your body better than you.

“You’re such a t-tease Spence” you whined. He looked up at you with his gorgeous eyes and a smirk and before you knew it his fingers were inside of you. You were so wet already that his fingers could easily slip inside you. He didn’t take his eyes off of you, he couldn’t and the truth was that he didn’t want to. It was one of his favourite things to do, watching you fall apart just because of his fingers and mouth.

“P-please” you managed to say again.

“Begging is a good look for you, darling but I’m sure you don’t know what you are begging for, do you ?” he said with a grin.

“Don’t stop Spencer” you cried out.

Spencer was eating you out like a man starved. The fingering and eating duo was phenomenal and he knew that. He was practically making out with your clit.

When he pulled his fingers out you cried out feeling so empty, but immediately Spencer spread your pussy lips with his fingers as he pressed his tongue inside of you. Your back arched and a sinful moan left your lips. Your legs started shaking and you could feel yourself getting closer as you tried to close your thighs together. Spencer understood that and with his hand placed one of your legs on his shoulder.

“You want to come Y/N? ” he asked hot breath hitting your core and sending shivers through your spine.

“God-yes” you moaned as Spencer’s lips touched you again, you felt your clit pulsing and twitching in his mouth with his fingers once again inside you.

“Then cum to my fingers Y/N” Spencer whispered as your pussy squeezed rhythmically around his fingers finding your climax. You closed your eyes and your head fell back as you tried to catch your breath.

Spencer started leaving wet kisses on your thighs and when you finally opened your eyes and looked at him he said “I want you to ride me. Can you do that pretty girl?” he asked. You just nodded eager to please him.

When he placed himself next to you he helped you climb on him.

Spencer’s hands moved tightly around your waist, when he tried to place you on his thighs, sending goosebumps to your whole body. Your hand fell to the zipper of his jeans unzipping it as fast as you could. You could finally see how hard he was. You looked at him biting your lips so innocently, his eyes never looked away watching every move you made.

“Eating me out really does make you hard,” you whispered in his ear and smirked. His eyes darkened as he pulled you by your hair lightly to make you look at him.

“You’re in no position to tease baby, remember that.” He grunted softly “You were the one who was begging asking to be touched.” you blushed and tried to look away. “So if you want to cum I suggest to stop being a brat.”

Spencer always was talkative during sex but now he was being mean and bold.

“S-sorry” you managed to say.

With Spencer’s help, you remove his jeans and boxer his hard dick was licking with pre-cum as it hit his flat stomach.

You decided to tease him some more jerking his length with your palm as you go for a kiss, moans dying in your mouth.

“Just- Just ride me already” Spencer groaned you grinned at him before you opened your mouth and said, “And I thought I was the needy one”. His hands were now gripping your thighs trying to guide you on top of him and without any warning he slipped inside you. You were already wet because of your previous orgasm but Spencer was big and you could still feel the way he was stretching you out.

“Always so tight,” he breathed out. Spencer didn’t move he didn’t know just how badly you ached for him, so he waited to adjust to him. Your hands were resting on his chest, you were trying your best not to fall apart and collapse on him. As you sank down on him he knew he should help you but he loved watching you struggle. So you decided to take matters into your own hands, as you started straddling him. You opened slightly your mouth and a small cry left your lips. Your head fell back and you started moving. With every rise of your hips and bounce of your ass against him you were taking him deeper.

“P-please” Words were coiled at your throat, coming out as broken sobs, wishing for more but you were starting to get tired of doing all the work.

“If you want something, you have to use your words, babe” Spencer hissed. You tried to move faster but your legs were giving up on you. Spencer could feel the way your warm walls throbbed around him, but he also noticed how your pace slowed down.

“Can’t you handle it, baby?” He whispered in your ear leaving a wet kiss there.

“I can-fuck, I can handle it.” You were I mess, your lips were trembling and Spencer couldn't take his eyes off of you. Thrusting yourself up and down along his cock was causing your boobs to bounce in front of him begging him for his attention. And the next thing you know is that his mouth scatters wet kisses all over your boobs.

“Go faster,” he said plainly with a bit of a whine.

“I can't, too m-much Spence” you whined as you kept riding him.

“Oh you want my h-help” he managed to breathe out. You couldn't say anything your mind was far gone for a while now and the only thing that you could do was nod your head.

“Use your words, baby, you are a smart girl, Right” he teased you. He always knew what to say to make your walls throb around him.

“Pl-please help me” you stuttered.

“Help you with what baby, come on,” he said as he let his hands fall on your ass.

“Cum” you whined. You didn't have to ask him twice as he started helping you with your movement. Your hips were now slamming up too recklessly giving you exactly what you asked for.

“Faster—ah shit—“ you were a hot mess, but believe me Spencer loved the view.

“I'm sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making” he grinned at you teasingly. His fingers sank into the smooth fat, forcing your movements to speed up, and you're mewing, pleading with him to give you more, more, more.

Spencer was hitting that one spot and your eyesight was beginning to blur. He moaned loudly and bucked his hips up into you.

“Feels so good S-Spencer” you cried out. You started getting louder with watery eyes as you got closer to your orgasm, that was the signature of him to go faster. You could feel him pulsing inside you since he was getting closer as well. He placed his hand on your throat making you come closer to kiss you. Your eyes fell on his hands his veins were popping out and you couldn't take your eyes off of them.

“S-so pretty” you mewed before he kissed you. But you were struggling to kiss him back as he was fucking you so good.

“I-fuck S-Spence I’m g-gonna cum” you said.

“C-cum for me sweet” he stuttered softly while he was getting closer with every movement.

“So good…you’re doing so good, such a good girl for me,” he praised, suddenly overwhelmed by the pleasure your pussy had given him.

His praises practically take you over the edge, forcing you to lean forward and put your arms on his shoulders to hold yourself from falling on him while continuing to ride out your orgasm.

“Y/N” Spencer moaned “I’m cumming, don’t stop, please. Don’t stop” You always loved how he would beg as he was getting closer.

“Beg,” you said as you pulled his hair feeling more in control now as you keep riding him.

“Don’t…nghh- don’t be a brat” he groaned as he came inside you filling you up with his cums.

Spencer needed some time to catch his breath and calm down from his climax before he tried to help you stand up. But you shocked your head.

“I want to be close to you, please” you begged.

“You know actually the chances of-mphh” he started saying but you cut him off by kissing him.

“You know I don’t mind,” you said as you tried to stand up “But if it makes you uncomfortable I can always go clean up” you continued but before you could even get off of him he pushed back at him.

“N-no stay” he murmured. You nodded at him with a little smile and rested your head on his shoulder as he started talking about a new poem that he read.

Spencer maybe made you wait but he always fucked you like a gentleman.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

reblogs are always appreciated !

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

dying by the hand of a foreign man, happily

[bkd-b3ans]

Boothill keeps messing up his revolver from all the slapping and you have to fix it

Heya, love For Boothill too big, so I've started writing something for the first time. Sorry for any mistakes, literally never wrote a fanfic before.

Ship: Boothill x mechanic reader (gn, but possible masc leaning)

Warnings: none, it's just a bit of banter

Chapter(s?) : just one part of a long thing I want to do. I will accompany this with art too of my oc later down the line.

"Boothill, can you stay still for one moment?" You said, clear annoyance in your voice as you almost dropped the small pins you had to hold with a pair of tweezers inside the cowboys disassembled arm.

You were trying to fix his revolver, which so happened to get jammed again due to his recklessness in fighting. You've told him so many times to stop slapping it into place so aggressively, that the springs and pins inside it are going to get worn out faster or shifted out of their place, but those pleas always fell onto deaf ears.

"M'bad sugar, it just gets sooo boring stayn' still like this for so fudging long." He said, rolling his eyes and slumping back down in his chair, tapping the fingers of his other hand onto the arm rest.

He always had these tics of his when getting fixed, which, to a degree, you could understand. After all, sometimes his repairs could take a few minutes or entire days where he'd have to do nothing but stay in your workshop, connected to your many machines in order to ensure that everything is running optimally. By now, he came so often that you could confidently just run your business on his funds alone.

"It won't take that long this time-" you adjusted the magnifying glasses on your nose, tapping the edge to zoom in a bit more, your steady hand placing the tiny pin inside it's hole "Luckily it was just a few pins that got out of their place. Other than that, your body seems to function pretty well."

He heard that little sigh of relief you sometimes did when checking his systems. It was a bitch and a half to fix them, and you were about the only mechanic not affiliated with the IPC that he could trust not to install some weird virus into his body.

" Well, what can I say, lady luck still riddin' shotgun with me I reckon. Can't say the same 'bout those jolly good fellows from the IPC." he let out a prideful scoff tipping his hat "I reckon their faces look better now with a few bullets between their teeth.

You shook your head, already used to his rants about the IPC and his hunt for revenge. Whilst you could appreciate his enthusiasm, you had yet to pry into the issue as to why. Despite all the days and hours spent with him, working on his body and listening to his rants, you had yet to be told the reason for all of this.

"As long as it is their face and not yours. After all, you're my number one customer~" you have him a wink, sticking your tongue at him playfully. Boothill nearly laughed, trying to say something smart back, but he was cut short by you suddenly slapping the revolver back in it's place, giving it a few spins before closing the paneling around it

"All seems to work well now Boots. Again, please stop slapping this thing into place like it owes you money. Your body may be made out of quality stuff, but it's not immune to your own idiocy."

"Hah, as if, that thing works better with a little tough love"

He didn't even have to look at you to feel the knives you were starring at him from behind your glasses.

"Besides, if I were to be careful, what excuses would I have to come pay ye a visit from time to time? Eh, sugar?"

You hated that shit eating smirk he had on his face sometimes. You just knew he enjoyed teasing and annoying you. It was part of your friendship at this point.

"One day your recklessness will be your death"

Standing up, you went to disconnect him from the machines he was hooked up, pulling out the cables from his back one by one.

"Aww, do I sense some worry in yer tone, darling? I'm flattered a-"

He couldn't finish his sentence as you tugged on his hat, pulling it over his face. Boothill couldn't help but laugh.

"Fine fine, I'll stop. Fudge me you can be tough to love sometimes. How much do I owe ya?" he asked, finally being able to stand up and adjust his hat.

"40k, do you want to put this on your tab again or just pay upfront"

"Just put it on my tab darling, I'll pay it once I'm back from this assignment"

You sighed. He always picked that option, but he always paid eventually, so you weren't too worried. What worried you us where the money came from sometimes. But what can you do, money is money after all.

"Fine, I'll see you next time Boots. And hey, bring me something nice from your travels, I might give you a discount too"

"What do I look like? A magpie?" he scoffed.

"You look more like a shark, but sure. Anyway, counting on you, Boots"

You gave him a friendly pat on the back, the cowboy tipping his hat to you before leaving, making you wonder sometimes in what part of the galaxy he's going to end up to next time every time he left your workshop.

[veryinnovative]

microfic based on that one tiktok: the hero's partner always calling at the worst possible time and the villain watching their partner struggle from a random rooftop but make it jeggy. microfic. 1392 words. sfw

A midnight lullaby sung by the city sounds—the gentle rattle of stray cars' exhaust pipes, the fading lights of a slowly dying city life, and the vibrant, flashing neon signs hanging lopsided in front of small, tucked-away corner stores. As the night wears on, the last few indoor lights gradually come to a dim, leaving the rooftops of high-rise apartment complexes and office buildings bathed in the slanted glow of slowly winking starlight. 

“Technically, he is on a work trip,” Sirius quips beside him, snorting as he hands over the binoculars, only for James to snatch them with a sudden burst of impatience he seldom displays around anyone else.

The gadget—some stolen thing looted from one of the upper-form security corporations they make a habit of robbing—is blessed with impeccable optical zoom and night vision, giving James a quite defined view of his loving husband, the very one who is hunched over a bomb he and Sirius planted nearly an hour ago, set to detonate in just a couple of minutes.

“His dedication to his job is one of my favorite things about him,” James supplies with a lazy grin, almost swooning when he makes out the annoyed frown creasing the skin between Regulus’ brows.

When the timer reads four minutes, Sirius clears his throat. “Bomb defusing has never been his strongest suit, you know that right?”

“Oh, I know.” That’s no surprise to either of them, given James knows his lover inside out. Though, he doesn’t consider it a flaw but simply an endearing quirk.

“You know,” Sirius deadpans, sporting a look of disapproval that eerily resembles Regulus’ when he’s slightly annoyed. “You know and yet you still let him, I don’t know, try and defuse a bomb that’s set to take the building down?”

“When have you ever doubted Regulus?”

“Well, it’s a bomb. It’s not unusual for me to doubt him when we’re talking explosives.”

“Are you saying my husband is incapable?”

That earns him a punch to the shoulders that’s sure to leave a bruise. “No, I just know my little brother well enough. He’s a little shit at times, but even shittier when it comes to things that blow up, James.”

Maybe. “Would you say he needs a hand, Pads?”

Sirius’ eyebrows fly up at the suggestion, almost blending into his hairline. “Excuse me, what?” He blinks, once, twice, “What do you mean need a hand? You out of all people reached your limit of stupid fucking ideas today, and that’s coming from me.”

In lieu of an explanation, James fishes out the burner phone, which results in much more indignant sputtering and Sirius trying to swat it out of his hands. There’s a lot of “Don’t you dare,” and “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” together with “You’re fucking kidding me—” when Sirius doesn’t quite succeed in disarming him.

“James,” he warns. The name barely comes out, reduced to more of a garble with James having him in a one-arm headlock.

“Sssh,” he hushes as he dials in Regulus’ number.

“Seriously, you’re insane,” Sirius grits out.

“Since when are you against a little bit of fun?

“Fine,” he sharply acquiesces. “Your funeral, but you better fucking keep me out of this.”

There’s peace to be made with that, especially with how Sirius has worked hard to keep this part of his life an ongoing secret from Regulus for a better ten-something years.

Through the binoculars, James can see Regulus with both the cables and a phone he retrieves from his chest pocket, grimace deepening when the device brightens up due to the caller screen. It’s no more than a couple of seconds when he’s greeted by an undoubtedly angelic voice—“James?”

“Hi, baby,” James answers, making sure to sound far more innocent than his current predicament would define him, voice entirely bereft of any hints of evil. “You sound a little bit out of breath, are you okay?”

Three minutes. The great act of fumbling ensues—one in which Regulus has to figure out how to tuck the phone between his shoulder and ear, compose his breathing, and still maintain hawk-sharp focus on the complicated criss-cross mesh of wires that James purposefully left behind in a convoluted tangle. He has to bite down on his tongue when Regulus clears his throat and tries to sound as unruffled as humanly possible in his position, “Fine. Just had to… Run…”

“You and running?”

“I missed the last train.”

“Poor you.” It drawls out, making it all the more pitying, a sure cause for guilt that’s unmistakably bubbling up inside of Regulus. “Waiting on the next one then? I can keep you company if you’d like. I know how much you hate public transport.”

“That’s fine,” Regulus hurriedly answers, now worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “My battery is running very low so we shouldn’t.”

It’s a tempting look this one: the vein protruding against the thin of his skin, that look of concentration. If Sirius hadn’t been there… “Well, you better get to your hotel quickly then,” James murmurs. “I miss you. You’ve been gone for three days now and we haven’t been able to call during the nights before bed. Can I see your face really quick?”

“No!” Regulus almost shouts into the receiver.

“No?” James asks, trying very hard to come across as hurt, even as a grin is currently cleaving his face in half to the point his jaw hurts.

Clock is ticking.

“No—I mean—I miss you too.” Oh, rambling, Regulus is rambling and if that just isn’t the most adorable thing on earth—“It’s just—My battery is really running low, James. Can we call later? I need Google Maps to figure out where I’m going after this train.”

And because James is just downright terrible, “I don’t know, love, almost sounds like you’re hiding something from me.”

“What?” Regulus falters, cursing under his breath when he zaps one of his fingers trying to wedge them between the wires. “What—What would I possibly hide from you?”

One and a half minute. James has to hurry. Too bad, it’s just so much fun.

“A nice gift, maybe? Bunch of flowers? A box of super fancy chocolates you never let me eat in one sitting?”

Utterly exasperated, Regulus accedes, “Sure, yes. I’ll bring you all of them, okay?”

And because he loves pushing his lucky so, “Call me lovebug before you hang up?”

“James —”  

Sixty seconds

“You don’t love me anymore?”

Fifty-five seconds. Regulus looks like he is seconds away from jamming a knife into the bomb. “Darling,” he starts, almost breathless. James’ jaws hurt from how much he’s smiling. “Lovebug, I love you so much, but I really—Really need to hang up. Please, I promise I’ll call back in a bit.”

“How much do you love me?”

“So much. I miss you a lot. I hate my job. I want nothing more than to come home and crawl into your arms. In fact, I’m considering finally quitting.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past years, yet you won’t.”

“After tonight, I just might. I love you, James. Please, I’m out of time, my battery is running empty.”

God, James is a man besotten. If not for Sirius jabbing in his side, insistently pointing at the timer and urging him to finally interfere, nothing else would’ve pulled him from the daydream that is Regulus Potter-Black

Six seconds.

“Baby?” 

Five seconds.

“James, for the love of—”

Four seconds.

“It’s the green wire.”

Three.

The last thing James sees is Regulus’ eyes blowing wide before he lowers the binoculars and drops the phone onto the ground, smashing it into the concrete beneath his heel.

Two. 

One…

“He’s going to kill you.”

No eardrum-shattering explosion echoes from a few rooftops away after Sirius points out the obvious. For good measure, James destroys the remote detonator as well. “Nonsense, I just helped him defuse a bomb.”

Sirius pulls the mask down his face again, voice muffled by the thick fabric when he speaks, “When he finds out you’re the one who planted it, you’re a dead, dead man.”

James shrugs, carding back his curls to pull down his mask as well. “Well, he’s been trying for the past five years. It’s only fair to level the playing fields for a change.”

notable mention <3: @wordsofwilderness @pretentiouswreckingball @shimshimshirrie

[defibrillation-and-lactation]

Heyo everybody! Here’s a resus story I finished today just in time for summer vibes. Nothing too dark, but there is a drowning involved. I hope you all enjoy!

The Beach Rescue

It was a clear mid-afternoon in late August. Summer was still in full effect. The sun shone down, peaking at a blistering 107 degrees. Palm trees all along the shore line were gently swaying. There were less people here today than usual, but the place was still bustling with crowds scattered about. Many could be seen in lines, waiting for their favorite hot spot to let them in. At least a hundred people could be seen walking along the boardwalk, with more shopping inside the little storefronts. Bags, bottles, coolers and towels of every color could be seen all across the shore, with people all enjoying themselves in their own way. It was a bright, beautiful day here at Venice Beach.

Here I was, a lifeguard, sitting quietly atop my tower as usual. My tower was one of the only towers that were taller than the rest. I was one of the few higher-up lifeguards working here, despite being relatively young with less years than the other high-ranking staff. You could say I had a seagull eye’s view of things going on around the beach. I could see farther towards the waters, where the surfers liked to surf and do cool tricks, while still being able to monitor the shore and what was close around me very well.

Out in the middle of the beach, one person had caught my eye. A woman walked out onto the sand. She was wearing a gold string bikini. She laid out a warm gray towel on the sand, dropping her dark magenta purse on it. Her figure along with her shiny gold attire glistened in the sunlight. She had light, but defined curves, making her a standout at the beach. She confidently walked closer towards the waters. I could tell she was a little inebriated. Her carefree expression and some of her footsteps told me she probably had a couple drinks at one of the bars or food places here. She had a bit of musical pep in her step, with her bigger assets bouncing along with her stride. She was definitely the highlight at the beach today.

I zoomed out with my binoculars. I'd probably best look elsewhere before I get completely distracted. At least the beach had been relatively free of incidents this summer. I think only two had happened last month that I knew of, and those were pretty minor incidents. A couple of guys were fighting over a space at Muscle Beach. Law enforcement were able to break them up and remove them. The other incident involved a girl that broke her leg at the skatepark. Fortunately, we were able to move her to a hospital pretty quickly. Things might get tense between people sometimes at random times, but usually they get sorted themselves or law enforcement puts a stop to it eventually. It has definitely been more peaceful than previous summers. Even last year felt pretty hectic and was also very tragic. I was grateful for this peace.

As soon as these thoughts left my head, a series of screams could be heard in the distance. They were coming from the water in my direction. I brought my binoculars up and started scanning in towards the waters. I zoomed in as far as I could. I could barely see anyone around who was struggling until I got farther out, and there she was. To my surprise, it was the same woman I saw several moments ago. I could see her hands flailing above the water, as well as the top of her head peeking out. I didn’t think she would go in the waters, let alone that far without a surfboard. What was she doing? Was she that drunk?

I then swung into action just like that. My binoculars dropped down. I quickly slid down the ladder of my tower and grabbed my medical bag. I sprinted towards the water as fast as I could. Halfway towards the water, I spread out a white beach towel and threw it on the ground behind me. Likewise, I also dropped my medical bag next to it, sprinting faster now that the weight of my equipment was gone. I then noticed a loose crowd of people, beginning to form around me on both sides. They were all watching me respond to the emergency unfolding ahead of me.

As I quickly approached the waters, I slipped on my diving goggles. As my feet touched the water, my pace slowed a fair bit, but I still stepped on as fast as I could. I scanned the area around me, but nobody could be seen above water. As the water started reaching up to my waist, I decided to try searching underwater. I then promptly took the plunge, sticking myself under the sea. Within seconds, my vision cleared up and I could now see what was in front of me. Initially, everything was pretty dark and I could barely see anything, but then I found her. The sunlight shone down on a huge rock, and the girl was there, sprawled out lying on the rock. Her shiny swimwear reflected the sun’s rays. As my eyes focused on her, I felt the air inside running out rapidly. I quickly swam to the top, prepping myself to extract this girl. As my head peeped above the water, I began gasping for air. I closed my eyes, shielding myself from the bright sunlight. I Then took one deep breath for myself, and rushed back underwater. I started speed swimming back to the situation at hand, the light of the sun guiding me there. I approached the woman from behind, and grabbed her, crossing her arms with mine. As I secured her with my arms, I began to propel myself back up. With all my strength I would bring her close to the shore. As soon as I felt my heels contact the wet sand, I turned around, positioning the girl sideways in front of me, where we faced the rising shore. As my feet fully grasped the sand, my arms and the girl were just above water. I then moved my arms to carry her by her legs and back.

Both of us surfaced from the water, with me holding the woman in a princess carry. The brightness of the sun caused my eyes to squint slightly. As I felt the wet sand become dry below me, my stamina started to take a hit, but I knew I could still go farther. I ran back as fast as I possibly could. I noticed the number of eyes on us had slightly increased. It really must have been a slow day here. There is usually not a big group that looks up at me when I perform a rescue like this. As I got closer to my marked area, My legs started to burn and feel like jelly. I knew there was not much left to go. As I saw my towel come within my reach, I slowed my step, and dropped a knee. I hastily, but gently lowered the girl onto my fresh, clean towel. I am not a very superstitious person, but I always keep a fresh, unused towel. I do not like the idea of rescuing someone on a towel that someone else drowned and possibly died on, since I feel it invites death so easily in these scenarios. Likewise, I never wash the towels and I often burn them at night too, so that no one becomes accursed from reusing them down the line.

With that being said, I get back to the task at hand. I raised my goggles up, and put my left hand behind her head, and tried pushing some water from her mouth with my right hand. A good amount of water spilled out from her mouth, but I know there’s some still inside her. I then check her neck and wrists for a pulse with my right hand, while I quickly unzip my medical bag. I give the bag a little jostle, letting a small bottle, some scissors and an ambu bag fall out. As I let the last items fall out, I notice nothing coming from the girl’s pulse points. It was then that I had to start working on her.

Both of my hands came together naturally and intertwined above the woman. I promptly lowered my hands down and gave her a quick pump to gauge the feeling for how hard I needed to press down. Then, I start counting up from one in my head, with the numbers exiting my mouth in a quiet mutter. I keep a steady pace, pumping her chest firmly. The compressions feel rather stiff and more difficult than usual. I then realize this girl’s bikini is still on and is hugging her tightly. As I finished this first round of compressions, I instinctively reached for the scissors on the sand. I had absolutely no regard for her modesty, because I had absolutely full regard for her life. I went immediately for her dazzling top, snipping her shoulder strings like nothing. A light jiggle of her chest was observed as her bikini began to snap in front of me. Next, I took a careful snip of the string at the middle point of her chest, cutting fast and precisely in the middle. As I clipped the middle string, the snap caused the two cups of her bikini to fly out majestically to her left and right side. Her breasts became completely exposed in a flash, wobbling heavily upon their release. Tens of people around us had their faces turn agape at the sight of modesty’s death. However, this woman here certainly was not dead, at least not yet.

With her breasts parted away from each other, I could now do my job much easier. My hands affixed together again and resumed compressions. I could confidently press harder and better now. Each pump made her breasts jiggle against the sides of my hands. I pumped a bit faster, trying to make up for lost time, which made sense in my brain, anyway. I almost sped up too fast to thirty. I also felt a bit stronger now after the intermittent break I had removing this woman’s top. After my second round of CPR, I reached for the ambu bag on the ground. I positioned the woman’s head straight up, putting the mouthpiece on her. I gave her a breath of fresh air, watching her torso expand and deflate. I gave her a second breath, pressing my stethoscope to her chest at the same time. I then heard a few strange sounding beats from her. I decided it was time to power on my defibrillator.

My co-workers prefer to use AEDs, saying that they are more convenient and easy out on the field. Personally, I can’t stand using them at the beach. I don’t have the ability to control the energy level and those stupid pads never stay secured on wet skin. I like my manual defibrillator because I am in control the whole time. It may be a bit heavier, but it is so much more reliable. So, I took the bottle next to me and I grabbed the paddles from the bag. I squirted a little conductive gel onto each paddle and gave them a good ol’ rub. I set the energy dial to 100 joules and let it charge. I announced to the world my intentions to shock this woman and went forward with it. I placed the paddles on her chest, one above her chest and one below her chest. I perched my thumbs over the discharge buttons, and pumped 100 joules into the dying woman. Her torso and arms twitched slightly, but nothing happened after. Sudden gasps could be heard from all across the crowd. I charged the unit again, pressing the buttons soon after again. Another twitch, but no response. Another flood of gasps, and then dead silence. I checked her again with my stethoscope, but this time I heard nothing. Nothing at all. Silent as the crowd. It was time to do compressions again.

I crossed my hands and started pumping away on her again. Her lifeless body moved with each push. Her head had slumped to the side from repeated movements and stayed there. Her overall body was getting noticeably more pale. More and more water was slowly seeping out of her airway and onto the towel. My arms were progressively pouncing harder and harder on her. Before I knew it, another round of compressions was completed. I switched over to the ambu bag and gave her another puff. Her stomach rising and descending at my will. I put my stethoscope back onto her, and surprisingly I hear a weak, but erratic beating in her chest. I dropped the bag and grabbed the defibrillator paddles again.

I turned the energy dial further to the right, setting it to 200 joules. I grabbed the bottle of gel again and rubbed another coat on the paddles. I cleared the area once again to try again. Quickly I put the paddles between her breasts and on her left side. I mashed the shock buttons and watched as she jumped about an inch and fell back down. No change at all. I charge the paddles again, quickly dumping another dose of electricity into her heart. I lower my stethoscope onto her again, and it’s just silence. Complete and utter silence. I was starting to lose hope on this lady. I really was, but there were too many people around me to just quit on them now. I had to show them at least an effortful performance.

With some doubt in my mind, I started another cycle of CPR. This time, I pressed on as well as I possibly could. The lady’s whole body was now.reacting to my compressions. Her breasts were steadily bouncing into my rhythmic, hammering hands. I could see her face beginning to start bluing. I didn’t have much time left, so I kept going, with my hands starting to tire out. Just another round and that was it. That was all I could take right now on this burning day. The bluish purple was just beginning to creep in. As I finished another thirtieth compression, I nabbed the ambu bag once more and gave her a pump of air. As the air wooshed into her lungs, I thought I heard sirens. Perhaps someone called an ambulance to the beach. I guess that would be a good idea no matter what happens. I then placed my stethoscope back onto her chest with no expectation once again. A quick listen revealed a struggling, quivering pulse. She really was a fighter, wasn’t she? At least she wasn’t turning any more blurple.

I couldn’t argue with a fibrillating heart, so I grabbed the paddles once again. This time I cranked the dial to 300 joules. I squeezed another dollop of gel on the paddles and made another conductive layer. I told everyone to stay away, urgently. I smacked the paddles onto her frail, but endowed chest, putting the paddles above her left breast and below her right breast. I pushed the buttons on the paddles to shock her again and sent 300 joules directly to her heart. Her reaction was much more pronounced, rising an impressive few inches and crashing back down. Still no response at all after that shock. Charging up again, I then hear the people’s reaction of shock as I shocked her myself again. Her whole body seized as she immediately rose into the air, her attractive body wiggling rather sensually as she hit the sand once more. I grabbed my stethoscope, fully expecting the absence of sound or life to be heard. To my complete surprise, Her heart was beating very strongly. She was still massively arrhythmic, so one more zap couldn’t hurt this situation.

I looked back at the defibrillator real fast. In my raging vortex of a mind, struggling to choose how much energy to hit her with, I just dimed it. 400 joules and charging. The sirens I had heard earlier were quickly getting louder. I ordered everyone to stand back before I zapped her. The whine of the capacitors were the loudest I’ve ever heard them, even in this loud environment. Once the area was clear, I slammed the paddles into the sides of her breasts and jammed in the buttons to shock her, unleashing a full 400 joules through her chest. Almost instantly her whole torso jumped up nearly a foot into the air. All four limbs jerked fiercely and twitched. Her back arched violently with a stunning angle. It felt like I introduced an otherworldly force to her body with the way she reacted so wildly. As she reached her peak in the air, her eyes shot open. A rough, raspy gasp escaped from her lungs as she went on her way down. Her body fell and impacted the sand hard. The impact caused her body to bounce back up and down momentarily like a bouncy ball. Her hair danced and sprawled evenly beneath her. Her breasts bounced and wobbled with tremendous, erotic might. Her thighs also jiggled with dazzling rippling waves. She briefly choked, coughing out the last of the water in her airways. She finally came back from the verge of passing. It had to be the shining miracle of today. She was certainly meant to spring back to life.

Swiftly, I nestled my hand behind her and cradled her head. She then started rapidly gasping for air. I gave her heart another listen and felt her heart beat speedily, but very flawlessly. I asked her if she felt alright, but before she could respond, paramedics were approaching with a gurney. I helped by lifting her up onto the gurney. I gave them a quick brief on what had just occurred and what I did. I witnessed her drowning, extracted her from the waters, and successfully resuscitated her. Before I let them go, I reassured the woman that she would be fine, whispering words of encouragement and praise of her fighting prowess to her. I don’t know if she got the full message, as her body was undoubtedly aching from the trauma. I then watched the paramedics roll her away into the ambulance, most likely never to be seen again.

As the scene deescalated, the crowd dispersed and diminished. The other lifeguards congratulated me on my rescue. I guess I should feel good about that outcome, but something kept me from basking in the glory of that rescue. I guess I kind of got attached to that woman on the beach. Her beauty was exceptionally captivating. Her face, her figure, her luscious hair, and that sparkling bikini she just rocked. The way that she didn’t give out after a couple grueling cycles of resuscitation. Even on the brink of death, she emerged more powerful. She was a marvelous, tough, young girl. I wanted to know if she’d be okay. I wonder if I’ll ever see or hear of her again.

As the day wrapped up, I cleaned my equipment, with no other incidents happening in the evening. I set up a bonfire near the boardwalk, next to my tower. I tossed the towel I saved the woman with, into the bonfire, setting some firewood some people had generously donated for the beach on top of it. I lit the towel up with my lighter and watched the fire spread quickly. Me, the lifeguards and some other people around us got food and returned back to the now full burning bonfire. With a kebab of marshmallows in one hand, and a cantarito in the other, I called a toast. A cheers to all here today, for a long lasting prosperity and a happy life. I took a deep sip, thinking about the woman again, wishing she would be of good health, and continue to do great in this world. I roasted my marshmallows with the radiant warmth of the fire, thinking of her roaring desire to stay alive.

May she be well.

[multiwreckedmess]

February Filth Fest - Day 15

Pairing: Yunho x fem!reader Prompt: Size Kink WC: 1.9k Summary: After your first failed attempt to take him, Yunho feels bad but sees an opportunity to try again. TW/CW: recording, light size training, painful insertion, crying, nicknames forever (yuyu/yunnie), reader described and nicknamed small/tiny/princess, fem sex defining characteristics for reader.

The tiny tripod set up on the floor is angled just right. Frame focused on your pussy, slowly sinking down around a clear dildo your caring boyfriend Yunho had purchased for you. Yunho of course was sitting just behind the camera, fully dressed, monitoring both the shot and you. Watching you struggle to fit the last third of the fake cock inside of you.

He feels a little guilty, palming his half hard erection, at how hot it makes him to watch you struggle. It was his dirty little secret from the day you’d started fucking. You were overeager and he was underestimating the size difference between you and him. Apologies flowed from the both of you like the tears that filled your eyes as you pushed yourself to take him. He almost came right there as your walls barely took in half of him before you tapped out. As much as your training was for your comfort it was for his stamina. “Yunnie...” you whined and bounced fruitlessly on the toy. “I caaan’t!” “You can honey, if you ever want to have hope to try to take me again you have to” You sniffled, wiggling your hips to work some more of the plastic inside of you.”But if it was you...you’d help.” You look up at him through your eyelashes, pouting. You wiggle again and huff.

“Princess needs to have help with everything doesn’t she?” Yunho finally obliges, keeping his face just out of frame he crosses behind you and kneels, somehow still looming over you, even in this lowered position. His body wraps around yours, almost protective but more possessive. Hands on your hips he slowly circles and presses you down the length of the dildo. “That’s it, taking every inch like the good slut you are.” “Yuuuun-” you sigh into the slow assisted motion. “Yunho i feel so-” you gasp as you reach the end of insertable length, clit resting against the flesh-like balls. His fingers are long and thin, tapering gently with almond nails, a welcome addition to the shot to highlight just how much he can grab in one fistful. One snakes into position resting just below your belly button, pressing the heel of his palm into the flesh made taut by the toy, middle finger teasing in slow circles around your button.  His opposite arm crosses over your chest, securing your back to his chest. Leaning back he helps you slide up and down, helping gravity with the work of stretching you, your thighs already twitching with fatigue below you.

His lips press the shell of your ear, whispering so the camera can’t hear him, whispering just for you, “can’t wait til it’s my cock that makes your cute tummy bulge.” “Kiss?” You ask, voice floating on clouds with your chin tilted up hopefully. “Of course princess,” Yunho’s heart flutters looking at your blown out eyes. All he wanted was to lift you from the stupid little dildo and replace it with himself, damn the consequences. He indulges you with a kiss, comforting and warm, confirmation that he’s with you still, that he’ll take care of you.

Releasing you to fend for yourself for a moment he grabs the camera to reposition behind you. Framing the shot close to your hole he watches you lean forward to bounce your hips up and down, clear toy turning milky with your arousal, catching the way your lips grip and stretch around it. Gripping his cock your soft whimpers and cries cloud his better judgment, working himself through his pants in time with your motions. Your moans mount higher and higher, sitting back onto your heels with your head back, your fingers curling and wiggling as you cum violently around the toy.

Collapsed forward the dildo slips from you. Gasping from the sudden emptiness Yunho zooms in, your gaped hole shrinking back down with each heavy breath.  He can’t help himself as he watches you. He needs to be inside of you, opting to slip two of his fingers into your walls as they flutter around him.  Automatically your lower leg kicks up as you squeal, “Yunnie! Why?” Your arms jerk you forward, away from his hand, running from the source of stimulation. Chuckling he switches the camera off, quickly popping his fingers into his mouth to clean them. Scooping you up into his arms he tosses you into the bed, limbs splaying to all corners. Vision blurred, your hearing takes over. Yunho's pants clatter to the ground with a zip and a whoosh. “Does my tiny princess think she can handle one more?” “Yuyu? I’m tired.” “Is that a no?” Low and smooth his words caress you and comfort you. “I’d feel guilty if you had to do everything.” Yunho gathers you into his arms, softly kissing all over your skin, face buried in your mess of flesh and limbs. “I’d do it all. I feel guilty even asking after last…” “No Yunnie! I want you,” you whine. “Do you want to try again?” Pulling away to look at him your eyes shine brightly, nodding your head earnestly.  “You think I’m ready?” He relaxes you back onto the headboard slowly sliding down into the pile of pillows. His cock curved up and resting against his stomach proudly he strokes himself in languid motions. Precum pearling and spilling down, coating him.  “We’ll never know if we don’t try.”

Two fingers enter your stretched pussy, then Yunho adds a third. The balls of your feet press and point into the sheets. “My Yuyu takes such good care,” you sigh dreamily, fingers carding through his hair. With a small moan your eyes roll back, sliding down further onto his fingers that fill you up so well. He hums happily, nuzzling your cheek. “Okay tiny, this might pinch a bit.” Sliding up and down your slit he coats the head of his cock with your natural wetness, before securing himself just outside of your entrance. Eyes trained to your cunt his hips press forward, your lips straining around him, tip finally breaching your pelvic bone he grunts. You wince, “Yun-! Hah! Help!” The pressure from the stretch of his cock burns. Chest tight, your hands find his forearms to squeeze.

He pulls back, head popping back out, causing another cry of pain. He wrestles your hands between his, fingers intertwining, thumbs petting the back of your hands. “Tiny, breathe, breathe with me.” Slowly together you breathe, each exhale he pushes a little deeper, each inhale he pulls back. Rocking deeper and deeper. You look so fragile beneath him. So precious. A tear slips from the corner of your eye, exhaling with a whimper. “We can stop tiny, if you aren’t ready-” “No! I’m ready!” You plead. “It’s not even half-” “I can do it!” You force your hips down farther with a pained groan. “Just do it all at once, just go. Please just do it.”

As much as he wants to, as frustrated as he is, he can’t. The friction of your walls is too much to be as quick as it would have to be. The pad of his thumb presses into your clit, rubbing a small circle over it, a bid to distract you with pleasure. Thighs clenching your walls flutter, flooding him with warm wet release. Chest to chest, bracing on his elbows over you he rides the tempo of your pulsing pussy, thrusting deeply into you. Yunho grunts and gasps, you’re so tight around him, like you hadn’t been stretched out on a toy not even fifteen minutes before. Clenching his teeth he stills, eyes pinched closed as he tries not to cum.

“Full so full, it hurts,” you whine and babble, “Yuyu, it hurts. it feels so good it hurts.” Kissing and lightly biting his shoulder you hold him to you, trying to calm your overactive nerves. You reach down to your stinging hole, shocked to feel yet another quarter of his member still outside of your cunt. Frustrated you wiggle and pout and let out small complaining huffs of air. “I know tiny, I know. One second,” Yunho sounds pained, his diaphragm expanding and pressing down into your body with each exhale. Grabbing a small pillow he lifts your hips up and places it below you. “Are you okay? Can we continue?” Eyebrows still pressed together you nod and grip the sheets.

Pulling out just a bit he uses the momentum to push himself all the way to the hilt, watching your stomach distend. “Oh fuck- princess-” jaw hung open he smiles, poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek. Tears slip from the corners of your eyes as you blink at the ceiling. “Did I do it?” Eyes wet, you look at Yunho, beaming down at you, not daring to adjust your torso to look. There’s no way you can possibly fit any more in you, you’ve never been more sure of a fact ever. Each contraction and expansion of your lungs feels like his cock is in your guts, pulsing and stirring far deeper than physiologically it could be.

Yunho places his palm on the bulge, “can you feel that babe? That’s all from me. I could fuck this pussy for hours you’d still be just as tight.” The sting of the stretch turns into overwhelming lust, burning pain turning to fiery want. You’re impatient, slowly grinding your hips against him, eyes closing in bliss. Whispering, half to Yunho, half to the universe, you beg. Begging almost taking the form of a mantra.

Sweetly Yunho leans forward, providing his back for you to grasp as he begins to move. Tight hot walls tugging at his length he grunts, using all his might to keep his sanity and not lose himself completely to the sensation. One of you needs to stay in control and it for sure will not be you. You’re already too far gone, every nerve on fire, hands grasping everywhere all at once, throaty groans muffled by his shoulder. Yunho is fine until he hears you, whining his name so softly and sweetly as you clench around him. Groan practically turning into a yell he folds you back. You can barely breathe as he lifts your hips up farther, driving down into you as your body trembles. “Please cum, please. I’m going to go insane. Please cum,” you beg with each thrust, lungs burning and vision swimming. “I think I'm going to explode please, fuck, please. Please Yunnie.” How can he possibly deny you when you ask so nicely? With a strangled yelp he spills inside of you, warmth pooling and spilling out. In a complete daze you grab his ass, holding him in place as you squirm. “Mine. I earned it. It’s mine.” Biting his lip, fighting the pain of overstimulation, Yunho laughs breathily. “I thought I was the possessive one.” You cling happily to him, snuggling into his large frame. “Next time can we film this too?” A wave of relief washes over Yunho. “Sure tiny, whatever you want.”

Catching back up! Slowly!

[melkintoyou]

pleas write more stoner mark... im begging on my knees 🙏🙏

Mmm imagine Mark on tour and he calls you late at night, voice all groggy, audibility baked and needy. PART TWO

"YOU LOOK LIKE A FOOL TO MEEEEEE,

TELL MEEE,

WHY'D YOU HAVE TO GO AND MAKE THINGS SO COMPLICATED?"

You and Mark yell out in unison, singing Avril Lavigne through the phone. After a long, cold day at work, this is exactly what you needed.

It has been exactly two months since, your best friend kissed you and left for this tour. Nobody could've prepared you both, for this impulsive act of breaking down the bridge between friendship and love. You both agreed that, time apart would allow you to think about the next step... Except, you both couldn't go a second without talking to one another. You shared selfies and photos throughout the day, and ended nights with a facetime call. Even if it was 2 minutes, just to say good night. Mark made sure to hear your voice before he slept. Tonight was no different.

You had been on the phone for 20 minutes now. Your rooms dimly lit by led lights, both blue because you share a favourite colour. The coziness of your fluffy bedding and Mark's voice had every atom in your body relaxed. "And I met so many new people! It's crazy to see so many people fuck with the music over here" he rambled on about his experiences on tour. He talked about the feeling of being on stage and how comfortable he feels, like he can let go of everything. He describes it feeling as though the whole world disappears and the only thing matters is the stage and audience. Mark was born to do this. "I'm telling you dude, it's has all played out so cosmically. It feels like fate but also so unreal..." You listened intently by adding validating hums in between his sentences. Suddenly, you noticed the volume of his voice slowly fade into a silence, as he looked at you and smiled.

"But... man.. dude, I miss you" he pouted his lips, half smiling and looked away. "I mean.. It's whatever, just wish you were here you know"

"It all means nothing, if I can't share it with you" he said, coyly.

"AWWWWWW someone's obsessed with me" you teased him, making his face flush with a warm, red colour.

"Shut up, you're stupid y/n" he laughed, before clearing his throat.

"Also! Look what I got" he rummaged through his bag to pull out what seemed to be a small glass bottle, with a pipette dropper. "It's straight thc oil babe..It's so strong dude, so good." He went on, as he dropped some under his tongue.

"Yoo that sounds so good, I want to try!" You sat up, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a sip. Maintaining eyes on Mark, you refused to miss every moment of him gradually getting high. He looked so cute.

"Yeah for sure, I'll bring it with me when I come back. You're gonna love it.. It gives you such a body high" He said, now with his voice a bit deeper and eyes, a little lower. He let out a soft giggle. "Like, I feel so sensitive right now dude, this bed feels amazing..." He ran his hands up and down his torso. Eyes zoomed into you, with lips curling into a smirk. "We're gonna take this when I see you next..." "Yeah I'm down 100%" You say in between sips.

"Then I'm gonna touch you." He dead panned, as his eyes fixed on you, making you choke on the water and widen your eyes.

"Uh.." You lose all coherent thoughts as your heart starts beating in your ears and you felt your body slowly get hot. Mark chuckled, watching you get flustered over his comment.

"I'm just being honest.. I think about it a lot.. you know touching you" his voice was lower and raspier. Shifting his bed, he put his phone on his night stand and turned on his side. Propping himself up on his left arm. He ran his right hand through his hair. "All the pretty noises, you'd make." He continued, "Under me, on top of me.. You would be so sensitive to my touch, my fingers... my tongue. I want to kiss you everywhere y/n.. Can I do that? When I see you?" His eyes now sincere and big, yet filled with lust. It made you nervous.

"Urm.. yeah, I'd like that" you whispered, feeling his words go straight to your core. You slowly rubbed your thighs together, for some sort of relief, to your now steadily, growing dampened spot between your legs. You bit onto your lower lip. "Mark..."

"Yeah baby?" He licked his lips, moving closer to the camera.

"I miss you" you whine, almost needy at the use of a pet name.

"And I miss you."

You hummed, smiling at him. Head spinning with desire.

"Wanna make you cum when I see you next." He looked down at his bulge, now growing underneath the covers. "I can't wait to see you.. feel you around me" Mark palmed himself through his pyjamas.

"Can you uh do something for me?" Whisper fell from his mouth, trying to hold himself together.

"Mhmmm" you bit your lip and nodded.

"Can you be a good girl and touch yourself for me?"

____________________________________________________

[sonkitty]

Crowley S2 Hair Post #1 Redone v2 - LINK - Update

Instead of editing the existing text, I have added and noted two updates to the post, Post #1 (meeting with Shax in St. James' Park).

I'll just copy and paste what they are here.

...

Update #1:

For a little context, I used to speculate the upper green part of the color-coded portion here was the buckle for the belt instead of the lower metal part of the tie strand.

Update 08/03/2024: After going over this scene thoroughly months later, I can now see this metal thing is probably the lower metal part of the clasp for this strand. It's so hard to tell with the lighting and the tassel sticking out from it. The tassel could be bunched together then hidden behind the vest, then peeking out again. Here is a color-coded image of this possibility:

The red would be the metal parts of the clasp. The green would be the tassel. The black is the vest near this area. The part between the red that is not color-coded is some small extra part that connects these metal parts. I've also lowered the opacity on the overall screenshot. The color-coded parts are layered over it. I'm honestly still not sure this setup is exactly as I speculate; it just seems the more likely scenario at this point, after months of studying these scenes. For reference, here is another image of what the clasps and tassels look like from the front as I tried to figure out the possibility with lighting and angles.

End update.

...

Update #2:

Update 08/03/2024: I have gone over this scene cut by cut with a long list of what to look for in my attempt to figure out how retying works. Because of how I progress in the puzzles over time and for simplicity's sake, I am not going to give every painstaking detail here. I will say that if my notes are correct, the tying sequence goes something like the following. The Tied Hands are tied 8 times during this entire scene. They also switch which hand they are connected to 3 of those times. He uses reflection connections and Shax's lapels to make these switches. More can be found in visual form here: Park Reflections. I have long suspected retying is required for crossing every threshold but been unable to recognize them because one of its key clues is a "joint" or a "hinge". The obvious such key is the one I've looked for of a metal part of a clasp striking a lapel edge. Well, it doesn't have to be just that. An actual thumb joint, especially Crowley's left thumb CMC joint, can accomplish this same task. For instance, here at the park, the left thumb CMC joint presumably qualifies as at the edge of the newspaper in the opening back shot of Crowley. Even though it's not clear at first glance due to the distance, I can take in numerous other clues of the scene, such as the large reflections in the lake and the rainbow that tying is already done. If I zoom, I can then find the face of the watch and a very good guess at where the left thumb CMC joint is. I still can't confirm retying happens for crossing every threshold, but current studies suggest it is likely or will have some further puzzles where I'm supposed to figure out the method in use or why it might be exempt. The below notes will remark on things I noticed about the tying, the connections, and the reflections, without quite getting the full process in motion because I did not break down the scene cut by cut with extensive notes to myself to figure out such things back when this post was first published. End update.

[grison-in-space]

You know, we tend to think about play centered around the boundaries and interactions of power dynamics as a kink thing, but I think that's a bit short-sighted. Perhaps it's that I have mostly taught adults—which imposes a distinct but limited power dynamic on the working relationship—but I find I use play constantly to help frustrated or shy students relax, especially when relaxing about the possibility that I am particularly upset, impatient, or judgemental about their temporary struggle. Lots of smiling, careful observation of body language—if they stiffen further they're not necessarily parsing that it's play and I need to change tactics. I often make an explicit statement like "oh no, the horror, you're learning," smile as warmly as I can project, validate the frustration and point to any clear progress I see, and then ask questions about the place where they're struggling.

Trying to use cuts more to spare dashes, but the more I think about it, the more I keep coming up with examples of boundary/hierarchy play in cases of strong working relationships between established dynamics. It's not something I only engage in from top down, either: I also offer play gestures around boundaries to people who are supervising me, if and only if I otherwise like and trust them enough to do so.

Often students will engage in mock boundary pushing at "boundaries" that they have observed that I don't give a shit about, like the time one of my students was asked to explain why his DNA signature was "found" on a broken pipette in genetics class (implied: he was being charged with breaking it as part of an exercise in interpreting DNA fingerprinting data) and he submitted a two page legal brief with fully referenced case law mock accusing the class of stealing his genetic material without a warrant. (I was delighted. I often think fondly of that student, who had been enlisted military and clearly enjoyed play mocking the "brass," but was also absolutely respectful and engaged when it actually mattered.)

I see that with my dogs, too. For example, yesterday I observed Tribble catch my eye, start briefly digging in the garden—a behavior I pointedly discourage and have for most of her life—wiggle, and then take off to race around the yard while I stomped after her and pretended to be mad until she bounced up to the door and requested to come inside. (She was almost certainly getting cold.)

It's always risky to make inferences about animal signals and especially intentionality without good falsifiable hypotheses about what is being intentionally conveyed and unpacked, so just to be specific: she wiggled using very loose body language of the kind that we usually use when playing as we made eye contact, dug until I made an exaggerated outrage face and took a step towards her, and sprinted away to zoom around the yard in a way that a nearly thirteen year old dog generally does not do unless she has a strong, motivated point to make. I was also using exaggerated play versions of outrage: mock stomping my feet with big steps with no stiffness, waving my head from side to side in a gesture I make when playing with animals, a very offended high pitched "oh!" noise I don't make when I'm actually annoyed. Play around mock offense over a mock transgressed boundary, taking delight in each other's attention.

And I mean, she and I have known each other for almost twelve years. This is the dog I accidentally trained using only my idiosyncratic body language for cues; she never bothered to listen for vocal cues until Tay tried to ask her for things with slightly different hand signals and she was bewildered. We're both pretty good at reading each other at this point.

I just think there is a strong tendency to carve out hierarchy and boundaries as Very Serious Business all the time, especially when we are thinking about ethical power dynamics. But it's not always, not even close: ethical play across boundaries should be consensual and bidirectional (even if the social hierarchy isn't entirely consensual, as with parent/child or dog/handler relationships), and if it's not it should cease. We've all seen the mortification of bosses who attempt play with subordinates who are Not Enjoying Themselves, right? You've all seen The Office?

I'm just enjoying thinking about boundaries and hierarchies in this way this morning. We (by virtue of the fact that you're interacting with me on the Anglophone Internet, anyway) live in a culture that finds hierarchy and explicitly acknowledged power dynamics really distasteful and uncomfortable, but those dynamics are still real and they absolutely exist. As someone who has some distinct scars from people who had power over me but wanted to pretend that we were peers when that was convenient, I think there's something valuable about acknowledging how much play can be held in a healthy, solid nonsexual relationship that still has power dynamics and firm boundaries.

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

annie on vacation

that summer, jim got robbie a temp job at his office and it quickly was made permanent. annie hadn't quote clocked how close jim and robbie were, as friends, but she supposed both spending so much time in julia's pussy was a kind of bonding experience.

julia was shaved now too, like annie, for the warm weather. annie really loved rubbing their pussies together when they were both smooth. she always made sure to shave before their group dates. she'd often get in the shower while robbie was already in there, and he'd cum on her ass while she shaved so he'd last longer for julia.

robbie was cumming on annie a lot lately. once they'd started they'd found it hard to stop. usually on her tits, but sometimes he'd bend her over and pull her pants down so he could cum on her ass or panties. one morning before they both left for work. she'd held the front of her panties open to catch his load and then she'd gone to work like that. it was one of the several ways they were playfully escalating. robbie grabbed her ass a lot, around the house, and she grabbed his cock, particularly when he wore basketball shorts.

sometimes, robbie worked from home, and was on zoom calls when annie would drop in between sessions. she'd stand on the other side of his computer and flash her tits, or her pussy, sometimes even masturbating when she felt like it.

they made a pact to cool it in july though, when they booked a beach house with julia and jim for a long weekend, just before robbie's birthday. they had a very relaxing weekend of drinking and drugs and the beach -- julia getting wonderful tanlines and annie mostly hiding under an umbrella.

on saturday night, after a boozy dinner in the little beach town, julia announced that she wanted to watch annie and jim fuck.

it wasn't like annie and jim had been avoiding this because of their past indiscretions, it had just seemed until now, very clear that julia didn't want them to. annie wondered why she was changing course, hoping it wasn't some kind of weird test. because next thing she knew, she was sucking jim's cock while robbie and julia watched. she tried to act unfamiliar with jim's cock, even though julia knew she'd been seeing it freely for months. julia winked at annie while jim was eating her pussy, and annie gave her a thumbs up to his performance. then she rode his cock on the bed, looking at robbie's cock straining against his boxer briefs, and at the obvious wet spot on julia's gray thong. "you can cum in me," annie told jim.

"fuck yes," julia said.

jim unloaded. when he was done, julia pulled him off, kissed him, and took his place on the bed. she worked annie's pussy aggressively, making her cum twice before leaving her in a heap, pulling robbie down, and getting railed by him from behind.

"what brought that on?" annie asked, when she and julia were alone.

"i think jim is going to propose," julia said. "and i didn't feel like i could marry him if you hadn't fucked him too. he was okay, right?"

"he was great," annie said.

"ok, thank god," julia said.

"you guys are gonna get married?" annie said. "that's amazing."

"you're my backup plan," julia said. "if this marriage doesn't work out, i'm marrying you."

"you'll still fuck me when you're married right?" annie said, reaching between julia's legs and kissing her. annie loved kissing julia.

"of course," julia said.

they were already going at it pretty wildly when robbie and jim came back in with drinks, so jim got on the bed, got hard, and fucked julia while she ate annie's pussy. robbie didn't get hard again, so he just watched as annie, then julia, then jim came just a few seconds apart.

at the beach house, annie and robbie had separate rooms, and annie found herself missing his body in the bed while she slept. when they got home on monday night, exhausted, she felt guilty about sleeping next to him in shorts and a t-shirt. it was the most she'd ever slept next to him wearing.

the next morning was his birthday, and she woke up early and took a shower and then went back to the room where he slept. she crawled onto the bed, straddling his knees, and pulled down his boxers. he was mostly soft, but she took him in her hand and then into her mouth anyway. he opened his eyes and looked at her, already on his way to fully hard.

"uh," he said.

"happy birthday," annie said. it didn't take her long to make him cum. she eagerly sucked, stroked, and spit on his shaft for roughly three minutes before he began to spurt. she caught most of it in her mouth but let a little get on her face.

"do you like your present?" she asked him.

"obviously yes," he said.

[cloudylovemuses]

McLaren needs to put their shit together, because this is getting out of hand!

Before I start my rant, I want to make clear that I absolutely Love both Lando and Oscar with all my heart. All this rant is a direct attack to the team and not them!

So let's start at the beginning of the race when Lando once again defends himself from Oscar leaving George open to attack. Oscar has to defend both the cars from George, which leads him leaving the track.

You know what's wrong with that? Lando felt the need to defend himself immediately from his teammate, because the team orders were so vague that he knew this was going to end bad for him.

Oscar instead of letting Lando and himself build a gap between the cars behind and them attacks Lando and takes the lead while pushing Lando to third.

You know what's wrong with that? Oscar thought that this is the chance of him to take the lead, so Lando would keep the Ferrari's behind, because team orders were so vague, that he knew if Lando was behind him he would have to help him.

But, the McLarens are fighting, their pit stops don't work right (shocking) and Suddenly the two Ferrari's are 1-2 with a 11second gap between them.

You know why? Because, the so called "papaya rules" strategy was SO shit that a tractor like Ferrari easily got past them. One didn't defend the other from the rest of the grid, they defend against each other.

Of course Ferrari's strategy wasn't perfect, but Thank God Charles is back on the game and him and Carlos (who only lost his position because his tires were dead) work so well together, that they were able to pull that miracle off.

Before I go to the post race shitshow, please check out what Will Buxton said on F1tv post race show. My guy said exactly what I was thinking. (I don't have a link right now, but I'll add it later.) Here's a quick screenshot, of a thread post about said interview:

So, we see the cool down room, Lando is completely disassociated and Oscar's trying play it cool. Because they know what they did today cost both of them good championship points and a Charles win was just a help for Max, not even Ferrari.

I don't even want to go on, about the video of the p2-3 photoshoot. Both boys look absolutely defeated and it's heartbreaking how McLaren was able to make a P2-3 feel like a P19-20.

These are the absolutely disappointing words of Andrea Stella over here:

Exhibit A

What the actual fuck you mean it's brutal to ask a driver to switch positions? You've already done it in Hungary. You made a mistake, Lando picked up his pace, while Oscar lost his? You prioritized Oscar for what? Lando is closer to winning YOU both championships and you actually decline him?

Exhibit B

What do you mean Oscar's the Future? Lando is supposed to be your present! You need to help HIM rise. Oscar has exactly that, the future, he just got here! You created unnecessary pressure for both of them.

And here's a thread post that goes with the previous text:

On the post race interview:

This is just heartbreaking. Also later on answering another question, they zoomed in a bit on him and he was indeed holding tears. So here's him, defending a team that won't defend him.

McLaren keeps saying that they are a Family and they support each other.

The only support I see is from Lando towards the rest of the team. Oscar is really smart for thinking for himself, he should and good for him. But, Lando needs to do the same if he wants to get HIS championship!

Team is a fucking mess, Oscar knows that and uses it at his advantage and at the wrong times, in my opinion, because he'll find that in front of him. And I don't say that as a judgment, but more like, Imagine what that team has put in his head that he believes that he has to literally kill himself, in order to meet THEIR standards.

Lando needs to be mean, needs to be selfish, needs to stop defending the team and defend himself.

Fuck what people will say, people will always find shit to say. Fuck what the team wants to say, they called you their future and now you're just their leftovers. It's stupid and ridiculous.

Anyways, it's 2:15am and that's all I can remember that I wanted to say. I'm mad, I'm sad, I'm disappointed and I have a headache. This was all I got, I'll come back to you with a couple of links in the morning

[calciumdeficientt]

Wade and Tom hcs pleaseeeee 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

I lov u wade i lov you tom. I actually have a whole post of tom hcs that you can check out here:

but i for sure have a few left in the tank!!!!!!1! Im gonna spritz some of my remaining tom ones, release my wade ones unto the world and then zoom in a little on their relationship >:D

TOM GURNEY AND WADE MARTIN HCS

TOM GURNEY

Skin picker. Big time skin picker. He just cant seem to help himself, its sort of a nervous tic. If he could just leave his fucking face alone for five minutes his acne would have cleared up a long time ago. Most of the marks on his face are actually just scars because he wont stop PICKING!!!!!

Saw the hobo get beamed up after the last fighting moves mission, i know this is pretty much canon atp but i think what would make it so much more batshit is if it had happened in BROAD DAYLIGHT. And no one other than tom gave a fuck. He comes out with all kinds of stupid conspiracy shit on the daily so no one even thinks to try and argue. They’re all like “yeeeah okay buddy whatever you say..”

Very emotionally mature, because of this he’s very painfully aware of all his shortcomings. He’s a good dude at heart but its aside pf him people never see. He’s pretty well renowned as the clique tapper, but honestly, he only talks so much because he doesnt wanna worry his friends by being all quiet and mysterious.

WADE MARTIN

MAAAAAAJOR little brother syndrome. He and Christy are only a year or so apart (possibly projecting bc that’s the gap between me and MY brother) but he gives me the vibe of a little kid who feels the need to show off because he’s younger. His general demeanour and outlook on the world tells me that he’s sort of crying out for attention and to some degree, help. He talks a lot about repeated suspensions, and the fact that no one seems to care about them anymore, and also the fact that he’s not doing all that well in his classes. He’s a kid that neeeds intervention, a firm shove in the right direction… and maybe some counselling. He’s practically jumping up and down on the spot yelling ‘LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT MEEE!’

More family hcs, but he and Christy only share their father. They have different mothers. Both women aren’t really in the picture beyond what the custody laws state they have to be. Christy’s mum left her with their dad when she was a baby, and Wade’s mum was his side piece. They divorced when Wade was 11. He hates both their guts for separating in what was a pretty tumultuous transition period in his life. If I’m getting my numbers right, 10-11 is the transition from elementary school to middle school. It was during this time that Wade started to struggle, he was a gifted student in his early years, and thus was left to his own devices. Because of that lack of support, his grades slipped and slipped and slipped, he just barely passed the entrance exam to get into Bullworth, and then started outright failing.

His hyper sexual voice lines are a way of deflecting away from how he really feels. Encouraged by his father, Wade feels he has to be this big, macho guy. He’s been brought up by his dad to believe high school is all about chasing tail and finding someone willing to have your kids straight out of the gate. In his head, Wade’s not about that at all. He wasn’t quite ready to be a man, he’d have liked a few more years of being a kid. Manhood is this big, scary, complex thing that he’s not ready for yet.. especially if its anything like Mr Martin tells him it is.

Takes great pride in his hair, but he does dye it. You can’t be a ginger bully, that’s like a spoon with holes in it or concrete scuba flippers. It doesnt work, its weird. It’s ugly. He and Trent do their hair together, he trusts Trent with it more than he trusts himself, the kid has been bleaching his own hair since he was 12, he’s a professional. And besides, he’s not gonna pay someone in a salon to dye it, what if he gets caught????

WADE AND TOM

They’re very close friends, I think wade was one of Tom’s first friends at Bullworth, back when he was this scrawny, quiet kid with a big ol birthmark over his eye. Wade had intended to beat the crap out of him to show him what was what, he looked weak and easy to snap. All brittle like a wafer cookie. Upon seeing his eye, Wade wrongfully assumed that someone has beat him to it, and knowing what a tumultuous home life could do to a kid, he invited Tom to come sit with them at lunch and he just… never left.

They really remind me of Troy and Abed from community dynamic-wise. One emotionally mature, but mildly childish dude (Tom) and one smarter than he appears meathead (Wade). Where they differ from Troy and Abed is instead of building blanket forts and acting out TV shows, they give swirlies and smoke cigarettes like they’re going out of fashion. “…” “…” “you wanna go do burnouts in the train yard dont you Wade” “Get OUUTA MY FRIGGIN BRAIN MAN! How’d you know that?!” “Lucky guess.”

Closer with each other than anyone else in the bullies clique. They lay on the roof after curfew and talk. For HOURS. They’ve been doing it for so long now that they’ve started smuggling sleeping bags and blankets up there so they can just sleep once they’re done. Wade likes that he can be open with his troubles about home., his many many troubles. Every day there’s a new home trouble. Tom talks about his fears about the secrecy at Bullworth and his theories, he feels like Wade is the only one that even bothers to TRY and see his point of view. Wade cries a lot during these little almost-therapy sessions. And Tom is right there with him, patting his back and wiping his tears. It’s cute.

Garage band duo. Tom is the drummer, Wade plays the three power chords he knows on his busted up hand-me-down Stratocaster that can barely plug into the amp anymore and really desperately needs new strings, and screams into the mic. It’s pretty hardcore, but it doesn’t actually sound all that bad. They work pretty well as a two piece and have played a total of four gigs, but its always been foe them anyway. They don’t wasn’t the gig money or the fame, they just wanna rock out.

[aces-and-angels]

Title: Dancing Queen

A/N: happy belated valentine's day gang- @jerzwriter tagged me in a fun, impromptu game where you list what songs your otp would be listening to this feb 14. i took a different approach to the prompt, as i often find myself doing lol- plus i had this hc in mind already- so here we are (but the short answer: enid's song would be get ur freak on by missy elliot); the long answer: this blurb🖤

Character(s): Enid Mendoza (she/her), Will Thomson (they/them), Zahir Saidi (he/him)

Summary: Will and Zahir discover a very special dance video. @choicesficwriterscreations

Word Count: 701

---

Another day at Park & Davis…

The file room- Zahir's newest home away from home. He eyed the pile of precariously stacked boxes with trepidation. “Okay. You can do this, Zahir. Just grab the files for Morrison.” 

The pep talk did little to assuage his nerves, but he pressed on, carefully pulling from the middle of the stack like he was playing a high-stakes version of Jenga. One hand on the handle, the other protectively hovering over the pile. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Just a little more-

“Zahir! You gotta see this!” Will’s voice boomed through the quiet expanse of shelves. An unbecoming shriek tore through his throat as he scrambled to steady the boxes. Only when he was sure he wouldn't literally be buried in paperwork did he take a breath.

“Will- you can't just creep up on me like that,” he huffed, still trying to calm his heart rate.

Unbothered, Will pushed their phone towards him. A paused video lit up the screen. “Trust me, this is important.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just watch it,” they insisted, practically bouncing on their heels.

“Alright- alright-” 

A simple, yet rhythmic melody played through the speakers. Dancers stood on stage in V-formation, heads dawned with oversized bucket hats. They swayed lazily to the beat- then the song truly began. 

“Missy be puttin’ it down- I'm the hottest ‘round- I told y'all mother-- y'all can't stop me now-” 

Everything broke loose. The crowd came alive with raucous cheers as the performers dropped down to their knees in sync. Zahir’s brows shot up at the sheer intensity of the routine- his heart pumping wildly just watching them move. “They’re really good. Are they from your college team?” 

Will shook his head, minimizing the video. “Nah. Check out the date in the description. This was over ten years ago.” 

“Then why are we watching this?”

“Notice anything special about the one in the center?” 

“Uh… they're talented?” 

“Oh, you sweet summer child-”

“My birthday is in November.” 

“I'd take another hard look if I were you,” Will hummed knowingly.  

“Can't you just tell me?”

“And take the joy of realizing it for yourself from you? Never.” 

“Will-” 

“Zahir,” they mocked.

“I really need to get back to work.” 

“This won’t take long.”

Zahir sighed, but resumed the video anyway. His frustration grew as he tried to catch a glimpse of the lead dancer’s face- their movements too fast for the camera to get a clear shot. The quality maxing out at 360p didn’t help either. Luckily, whoever was filming decided to zoom in at the exact moment their- her- head popped up. “No way- is that-”

“Yup.”

“But she’s-”

“I know.” 

"How'd you even find this?"

Will grinned smugly. "I have my ways. And a lot of downtime between meetings."

Her hair was much longer, falling just over her lower back. In the time he’s worked at Park & Davis, he’d never seen her with straight hair. Forget about the carefree expression plastered on her face- which admittedly hadn’t changed much. But there was no mistaking it, that was-

“What are you two doing?” Enid’s commanding tone disrupted the peace between them. Will slammed the power button, shutting off the video before pocketing their phone. 

“Uh- nothing?” Zahir answered meekly. 

She crossed her arms. “Did you get the files for Morrison?”

“Well- not yet-”

“So not only have you not done the one task I gave you, you’re choosing to hide out in the file room. Is that right?”

“N-no,” he stammered, his brain on the fritz at Enid’s piercing stare. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

Words poured out of him like a running faucet. Babbling tended to be his default coping mechanism. “We represent some of the world’s biggest tech moguls. Blaire Hall, Khaan Mousavi, a third person I can’t name right now but I’m sure exists, yet we’re still slaves to this archaic form of documentation. Paper. Isn’t that ironic? The fact that we haven’t digitized all this is insane. We’d save space, time, trees-”

“Zahir,” Enid interrupted. 

“Yeah?”

“Get the files.” 

“Right away, Ms. Mendoza,” he squeaked out, spinning on his heels to get back to his game of Jenga.

---

tag list: @ascindio, @choicesmc, @win-chan, @brycesgirl, @stars-are-within-me, @inlocusmads

[footy-fictionist]

Championship loss - Julian Brandt

Pairing: Julian Brandt x female reader

Warnings: I'm gonna break your hearts again with the Championship loss, but also a lot of fluff, soft moments, teeny tiny bit of teasing, badly translated German, mentions of Jannis and Jascha

Word Count: 1653

Note: As always, English is not my first language. This one has been on my mind since we lost. Next one should be a Jude one and then I can get to the requests in my inbox. This one just had to come out now. Remember it's fictional, some parts may be alike with real life and some I just came up with. Please do not copy and/or publish my work, reblogging is perfectly fine!

Dortmund vs Mainz. The last game of the season and all we needed to do was win. Win so we could win the league. Win so we could lift the Meisterschale. That was the dream, everything Dortmund had worked so hard for and we didn’t win it. The equalizer from Niklas wasn’t enough because Bayern won their game. And now everything has become a nightmare. She’s watching speechless as she sees the defeat and utter disbelief on everyone’s faces. 

But the one she is worried about most hasn’t come back onto the field again. Julian was subbed out in the 62nd minute and she knows he’s beating himself up. She may not be able to see him from where she’s stood, but she can feel his pain. Pain she also feels because she loves Dortmund, but it’s probably nothing compared to Julian’s pain and the other players. She’s not even surprised that not a single fan has left the stadium, the fans loyal to a fault. She’s still trying to find him when the stadium camera’s zoom in on the bench and there he is. Eyes red and teary, a few wet streaks and Julian just staring into the distance. That’s the moment she started crying too.

She watched as Terzic went to Julian and patted him on the face. The camera’s stopped showing the bench after that and a few moments later Julian stepped back out on the pitch. She watched as he slowly made his way to his teammates in front of the yellow wall. He didn’t really approach anyone, just standing between everyone and she knows he is already closing himself off. The disappointment is clear everywhere and yet the yellow wall sings and they support their players. They clap for the yellow wall, apologizing to the fans and thanking them for their support. 

She watches as Julian crouches down, hand going over his face. She grabs onto Jascha’s arm, who has been standing next to her the whole game. He looks down at her, eyes leaving his brother. He sees the pain on her face, the tears still streaming even if she wipes them every few minutes. He pulls his arm out of her grip and she looks up at him a little panicked. She’s scared that she had upset her younger brother-in-law, only to have him wrap his arm around her shoulders to help comfort her. In return she wraps an arm around his waist. She looks back to where she last saw Julian only to see his deflated form sitting near Nico. 

All she wants to do is go to him, but she can’t. She’ll have to wait till he comes to her. She watches as the team gets up and goes to walk past the fans. The fans comfort the players as they walk by, a few of them giving away their jerseys, Julian included. And even though it really isn’t the time, she can’t help but admire Julian and his physique. She sees him shirtless all the time, but after a game it always hits differently. But it’s not just his physique, it’s the way he takes the time with fans, talks with them and shows them he is as disappointed as they are. And yet he appreciates every single fan. His introverted side is not in sight with the fans. But she knows that’ll change once they’re alone.

She notices that Jascha stopped rubbing her arm and that’s when she notices her tears have stopped as well. She turns to him and thanks him for being a brilliant brother-in-law. She spots Jannis still near the other photographers, he turns that exact moment and they lock eyes. He waves at her and she manages to wave back with a bittersweet smile before he turns back to take more pictures. That’s when Jascha softly squeezes her arm and she follows his gaze to the pitch. And she sees her favourite sweaty blonde walk towards them. 

His head is down, but he walks with purpose.

She already has the boarding digging into her hips before he’s even close. But the second he’s close enough, her arms wrap around his shoulders. It’s as though a weight drops off his shoulders and he wraps his arms around her waist. They hide their faces against each other’s necks. She inhales his scent, a scent that’s pure Julian and she hears him do the same. She can’t help but tighten her grip on him a little and move one hand to his golden locks. He pulls her in a little closer and presses a few small, soft kisses to the nape of her neck. 

“Ich bin so stolz auf dich, Schatzie.” 

“Wofür? We drew the game and lost the title. We bottled it.” 

She immediately pulls away and he looks at her a little offended that she’s pulled away from him so quickly. She immediately makes sure to make it up to him by putting her hands on his jaw and drawing his face closer to hers. His arms tighten around her again as she does so and she presses a few butterfly kisses across his face. 

“I’m proud of you for the good times, the bad times and everything in between. You have given it your all, you all managed to get back from 9 points difference. You battled through an injury whilst being in your prime and you still managed to give Bayern the biggest challenge they’ve had in years. You, Julian Brandt, are one of the best players on this team and if you’d ask me alone, I’d tell everyone you are the best. For your spirit, your passion, your perseverance, your love for the club and the fans. You live and breathe football at this club Schatzie. And I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d end up being like Reus for the fans. You give everything and more Jule and you can’t imagine how proud I am that I get to call you mine.”

As she’s talking to him, she can see a few tears start to gather on his lashes again. He presses his forehead to hers and the smile he gives her is brighter than the sun. She returns the smile and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s sweet, loving and passionate all at once. 

“Ich liebe dich.” He whispers against her lips and she smiles, returning the phrase to him. 

It’s then that they realize where they are and that they’re not alone. Julian presses another quick kiss against her lips before going to hug Jascha, who is giving him a mischievous look. Both Julian and her give Jascha suspicious looks but he just waves them away. They share a look but let it go. Mats approaches them to tell Julian that they have to go inside. Julian nods and turns back to her one more time. He presses another kiss to her lips. 

“Will you wait for me here in the stadium?” She nods at him and presses another kiss to his lips.

As he makes his way to the dressing room, she and Jascha head inside to wait for Julian in the family area. She gets the chance to ask Jascha what his mischievous look was for. He just glances at her and tells her to look at her phone. She gives him a confused look but does as he says. She sees a few messages from him and the second she opens them, she knows why he was acting that way. He took some pictures of her interaction with Julian. And she can’t help but feel happy that he did. It’s clear in the pictures that they clearly love each other very much and she knows she’ll definitely use one as her background and that she’ll hang a few in their apartment. 

“Danke, Jascha.” 

Jascha just shrugs and gives her a wink. They talk for about 20 minutes and during that time Jannis has joined them. He’s showing her some of the pictures he made when some players finally enter the room. Julian makes an immediate beeline towards them, ignoring everyone else and she knows he’s in his own headspace now. He gives Jannis a slap on his back and then moves to wrap his arm around her. He stands close to her, now without the boarding between them. His forehead leans against her temple and she runs a hand through his still partially wet hair. 

They go home soon after that and once home they order some food and crash on the couch. He’s quiet as he hands her the remote for the tv. He makes sure she’s in the corner of the couch and then goes to lie down between her legs, his front pressed against hers, head on her chest. She chooses a series and runs her fingers through his hair as they wait for their food. They don’t talk and she knows Julian isn’t paying attention to the tv. He’s in his own head, thinking of today’s outcome.

They eat in silence once the food arrives and then move to their bed. She knows he needs his own headspace to get over it and she lets him approach her if he needs anything. She’s used to it and she knows it’s what he’s most comfortable with. He’s in bed before her, but the second she gets on the bed he immediately pulls her to him. He pulls her as close to him as he can, her head on his chest this time and the sound of his heartbeat calms her completely. His scent envelopes her again and she sighs in complete content, making Julian smile and press a kiss to her hairline. 

“Danke, meine Liebe. Ich liebe dich.”

"Natürlich, Schatzie. Ich liebe dich für immer.”

This time it’s Julian that sighs in content. He presses one more kiss to her hairline and then they both drift off. 

Ich bin so stolz auf dich, Schatzie: I am so proud of you darling Wofür?: For what? Ich liebe dich (für immer): I love you (always/forever) Danke: thank you Meine Liebe: my love Natürlich: of course

[captain-mj]

Angels Of Digitalism

Part 1 Part 2

Soap sat on the couch for a bit, continuing to draw. Simon looked over his shoulder as he worked. 

He watched Johnny continue to draw. The little lines and different shades of grey. It didn’t really make sense to him until Johnny zoomed out to show everything. Simon followed each intricate detail, finding it all hypnotizing. 

Johnny was so focused, he had his tongue between his teeth as he worked. It was cute. Simon glanced at Alejandro who was still deep in his phone.

Ghost decided to ask a question. “Have you ever heard of Sacred Geometry? Your work reminds me of it.”                                    

“No.” Johnny answered as he continued to draw.

There was a moment of silence. Ghost was more than content to just let it be. 

Johnny stopped what he was doing to look up, all of his attention suddenly on Ghost. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

Ghost paused, not expecting the artist they were paying to care about that. “Do you want me to?”

“Yeah. Sounds cool.” Johnny smiled at him and clearly waited for him to go on. 

Simon nodded. “Sacred geometry is the study of the spiritual meaning in shapes. You know the fibonacci sequence right?”

“Yeah, in one of my art classes, we talked about it. If you use it while making trees and spirals, it makes them look more natural. One of the golden rations I believe.”

Simon grinned and Johnny smiled back. For a moment, Ghost wondered if he forgot to put his mask on, before realizing Johnny was just looking at his eyes. “Yeah. Exactly. Most of the time it’s just dozens of interlocking circles and spheres to make patterns but the other shapes are included sometimes. Cells make those patterns, atoms make those patterns, the solar system, the galaxy potentially our universe. All just boiling down into patterns that we can decipher and find the meaning of it all somehow. Circles mean the never ending loop, I believe something to do with reincarnation. The numbers that go into making them.”

“You think we can find the meaning?” Johnny asked him, looking at him with a strange amount of surety. Like Simon might actually know something. 

Simon laughed a little and immediately wanted to take it back when Johnny looked embarrassed. ‘I don’t know. Don’t think there is much of a meaning to anything. I think we’re just here and then we’ll die.”

“How nihilistic.” Alejandro gave him a glare over Johnny’s head. A very clear ‘we’ve talked about this and have you talked to your therapist recently and are you taking your happy meds’ glare that made Simon roll his eyes at him. 

“But if you find meaning in it, that’s up to you. Your work just reminds me of it.”

Johnny thought about it before laughing. “I think I know why! I used religious art as a reference fur some things. Especially angels, ye ken, cause o` yer name.” 

Alejandro and Ghost made eye contact over his name again. Yeah, Soap was not subtle about being scottish, but his accent thickened so suddenly Ghost couldn’t really understand it. He did find he kinda liked it though. 

“English, Soap.” Ghost decided to try. 

Johnny slowly looked at him before hissing. “Awa' 'n' bile yer heid, ye british bas.” 

Ghost blinked. “Yeah, that didn’t help. I understood that even less somehow.” 

Johnny grumbled and went back to drawing. Ghost sipped his drink and decided maybe it was time to bow out. The harnesses were done. The rigging all done. Roach would hopefully be finishing up soon. 

Johnny leaned into him, just a little. It was so he could get a better angle with what he was working on, but they were pressed close together.

Simon swallowed and waited for the usual panic that came from being unexpectedly touched so much, but nothing came. 

Maybe therapy was working. 

Alex and Roach stepped out of the room, both looking tired. “Alejandro, thank you so much for coming and helping.”

Soap glanced at Alejandro, really confused as all he saw him do was sit on the couch and type, but alright. 

“No problem guys. I’ll come every day this week.” Alejandro stood up and he and Alex fistbumped and Alejandro squeezed Roach’s shoulder as he passed. “Oh, Simon?”

Ghost looked up.

“Continue being cute for me yeah?” He winked and Ghost blew him a kiss. 

“Disgusting.” Rodolfo deadpanned. “Get a room.”

Alejandro spoke in Spanish to him and Rodolfo just shook his head. 

“I forgot to get you yesterday Soap so I thought I should make sure you come with us this time.”

The lights went out through out the building.

“Why did they put them on timers? Doesn’t even make fucking sense.” Alex turned his phone on as he spoke, illuminating them all. Slowly, everyone else got their phones out and turned them on. “Didn’t realize how late it got.” 

Soap hummed. “I thought you guys just turned them off yesterday…”

“We wouldn’t leave you in here. On purpose.” Rodolfo promised. “It’s why we sent Roach in.”

“Wait, where did Roach go?” Ghost stood up and looked around. He didn’t have his light on, but it wasn’t really necessary with so many lights already. 

Roach gently brushed his hand and Ghost tensed for a moment, before calming when he saw it was just Roach. “There you are. Don’t wander off in the dark.” He grabbed his hand. 

Rodolfo rubbed his temples. “Alright, let’s try to find the exit.” 

They all fumbled around in the dark for a while. Soap awkwardly bumped into more people than he ever wanted to. He found the door though and everyone escaped the dark venue. 

Ghost put on his helmet but perched on his motorcycle for a few minutes. Soap didn’t know why, but he waited with him.

Rodolfo did a quick head count of everyone before nodding. “Alright, everyone’s good to go home. Alex, remember, thirty minutes between edibles.”

“No.”

“Kill yourself then. Roach, please be careful in that car. It looks evil.”

Roach saluted him. 

“Ghost, remember to take your meds.” 

Ghost visibly shrank and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I fucking will.”

“Soap. Keep up the good work.”

“Wait, does Alejandro not get berated for something?? And why does Soap just get a keep up the good work?” Alex immediately complained. 

Rodolfo shrugged. “Soap is my favorite coworker and Alejandro is a guest.”

Alejandro gasped. “Mi sol, a guest?? I am a guest??”

“Yes. You’re a guest star. But still a guest. You’re not on a contract right now.”

“Wow, are we not friends?” Ghost scoffed.

“We are friends. It’s how I knew you weren’t going to take your meds, Roach was going to speed, and Alex was going to get high. I don’t know what Soap does when he’s not here!”

Soap hummed. “Mostly just take online college classes and commissions.”

“Boring. I can’t say anything about that. Oh, make sure you get grades??” Rodolfo scoffed and motioned towards Soap. “Get a better haircut??”

“I like his mohawk.” Roach used an app on his phone so it sounded like the vocaloid he used. Soap thought that was pretty neat. “Plus, more importantly, I was not going to speed.”

“We have the Life360 app. Your top speed coming in was 95 miles. Ghost is a safer driver than you. And he doesn’t even have a license.”

“You don’t have a license?” Soap turned to him. 

Ghost threw his leg over his motorcycle so he could get on properly. “Goodnight. I totally have a license.”

“Let’s see it then.”

“It has my face.”

“You can cover it up!” 

Ghost revved his engine. “No.” He two finger saluted everyone and left quickly. 

Roach watched him go with this… almost soft look in his eyes. He looked at Soap and held out a piece of gum. 

Soap took it and popped it in his mouth, making Roach grin. “So, have any plans tonight?”

Roach texted him instead of using the voice app. “Not really. You?”

“Go home and relax I suppose.”

“Want to come back to my place?”

[exoticalmonde]

IS2 also known as Phantom & Crimson Solitaire but the Part where I learn about some of the Lore via Operator Records

This all started because I am a stupid idiot simp and have no self-control, okay?

The other day I was trying to mind my business when I was wondering who out of my Bandorio (husBandorio) squad I want to E2. It was almost an unfair match between Shalem and Mr. Nothing (whose position in the band is already shaky with Lessing and Hoderer coming eventually).

I thought to myself 'The best way to really know who I want is to see how useful they are in batte-' WRONG, I wanted to know if I vibe with them on a personal level. Which meant that I had to sit down and read their Operator Records.

And proceeded to yap about Shalem on TWTR since harlot gloves and an iridescent shine on his tail + it being cutely wrapped around his leg is the go-to if you want to impress me.

Also because I like the look of sheer exhausted, barely clinging to sanity look he gives me when I zoom in on his person.

Continue below if you want to see me cry about Shalem, the Troupe and then about the Crimson Solitaire and what it was throwing at me the last two days.

So being said, I started admiring... everything that is happening in his E2. Prior to actually reading anything I knew that Shalem has something to do with Phantom, at least something enough that he has to go and save him from IS2. I've dabbled with it before just a tiny little, never reached an ending and I still haven't as I write this.

Items of background as of yet unverified, which is really funny because I think the same goes for Phantom. Maybe I should look him up while I'm here to read side-by-side comparison.

Take note, it says Shalem works in logistics.

Both Victorian, born within a month and a bit of each other, so that's interesting. What's that? Phantom is taller?? Than shalem?? The twink black cat is taller than the black snake?

Insanity.

Oh, he's doomed. Who do I like that ISN'T infected with Oripathy??? It feels like they're all sick... But now that I look at my list, Chongyue, Ebenhol-

Okay... that leaves SilverAsh, Vigil, Lee, Tequila, Lessing they're all fine.

My head is too full of Czerny and Hoederer being Infected on a very advanced level, so it feels like my world is ending every time I start reading the Medical Analysis.

-Shalem Trust 50-

Considering Rhodes Island's operators come from all corners, races, temperaments, histories and myriad diversities of the land, there are indeed plenty who are weak with communication yet possess a kind heart, and thus HR's operators haven't had serious concern, vis-a-vis the state of Shalem's life. 

Me *handshake* Shalem Disliking mixing friend groups so we just avoid it at all cost

He's been waiting forever, waiting for his chapter's end, but he doesn't anticipate that in ten or so months, when Rhodes Island life has long since become routine, that a shadow of the past will sorrowfully arrive.

Congratulations, everybody, another sad boy has reconsidered subearthing themselves because he found a place to call home and a bed he can sleep in with both eyes closed.

-Phantom Trust 50-

When Phantom first set foot on Rhodes Island, he terrified the logistics personnel who were on duty at the time. He suddenly appeared behind one individual, standing there without a word until the person turned around to discover his presence.

IF SHALEM WORKS IN LOGISTICS WAS THIS ACTUALLY TALKING ABOUT HIM???? I can't believe Shalem was stalked by Phantom for absolutely no reason and then Closure got pissed that this arrogant feline just boarded the ship without telling anybody, or anybody noticing even, until it was too late.

Talk about being a professional assassin.

Accompanying Phantom on his arrival to Rhodes Island was a person as mysterious and alluring as the night itself, someone known as 'Ms. Christine.' Through her demeanor, it was clear that she was a refined and haughty woman. No one knows whether she will remain or leave, and she is not always seen with Phantom, instead happy enough to wander around as if quietly patrolling her turf.

To this, I have only one responce

*Throws 15, 000 of those at Phantom* I HAVE THE LADY'S PERMISSION!!

-Shalem Trust 100-

After a field mission ended, Shalem noticed a phantasm behind him. He was the most brilliant of those young stars in the troupe, its leader's favorite, a crimson blood diamond, and he stared at him, naturally not seeking to reminisce. 

Oh my god I was right.

An acquainted operator informed him someone called Phantom had joined as an Operator in the past few days. Who was Phantom? Shalem knew in his heart as clear as night.

Joined like it's nobody's business.

After which Shalem just decided his anxiety is too much to handle and didn't go out of his room for a small eternity.

When he received a mission on his terminal to seek the missing Operator Phantom, Shalem believed someone to be pranking him, but after verifying high and low, he realized Phantom truly had departed Rhodes Island, and no one was more familiar with the mission objective's search area than Shalem. It was his and Phantom's home, and the beginning of their nightmares. The past had already found Shalem, and he could not choose to stay uninvolved again. He accepted the mission to search for Phantom.

Oh no, he's being sent to whatever hellhole the Troupe is situated at. That must actually be one hell of a notice to get on his terminal. Go look for the person you have been trying to avoid, with whom you were potentially raised to play an endless play because he disappeared.

How did Phantom even end up there??? I have more questions than I have answers now.

-Phantom Trust 100-

After receiving his permission, Rhodes Island conducted a series of tests aimed at targeting this ability, basically confirming that Phantom's ability to alter the shadows is related to sound. By using his throat to vocalize certain sounds, he is able to interfere with and severely damage the psyche of a living being. The more intense the emotion in the tone, the deeper the effect is, producing psychological damage that is difficult to repair or reverse.

Sweet Mouthpiece... What the actual hell?

-Shalem Trust 150-

After the flood receded, some sumptuously graceful guests entered the village. Yes, they handed people money to seek local aid; yes, they carefully selected, adopted many children who were without claim, now their parents had vanished or been lost.

I have a bad feeling about thi-

Numbering one of them was the young Shalem.

I hate this with all my life, actually.

'You are children of the arts. Now, you may rest well.' So the old butler promised, and so Shalem believed. Soon after, his life became a play. Modest and gentle was the label the troupe gave to Shalem, and ever since then, it has become his 'true personality.'

'Modest' and 'Gentle'? Explain this, then

We shan't dwell on the daily physical training and rehearsal of lines. Understudies as excellent as Phantom would be led upon stage, given verbal motivation and material reward in front of them all.

Yeah, so they did know each other and everybody hated Phantom because he was good at what he was doing. Actually terrible by definition.

The children who entered the troupe together one by one disappeared, and those left were completely changed in temperament, not a speck of the innocence of their years left visible. As they grew in years, Shalem had convinced himself to accept one fact: We were only brought into this troupe to offer our lives to the arts. If we are unable to perform... Then we have no right to live within the troupe. Whether voluntary or not, so long as you joined the troupe, the script you were given would be written long in advance. To run until your life's end.

God, Shalem... My darling...

Survival drives all to the brink, and they who ought to have worked together past these difficulties began to slaughter each other. In the end, no one escapes. Only a few uneaten slices of meat remain, scooped away by fowlbeasts, flapping their wings across the endless waters.

Is this... hinting at... cannibalism...? Again?

-Phantom Trust 150-

We can infer from our investigations that a wave of Oripathy that ripped through parts of Victoria a few years ago destroyed this troupe, and changed the trajectory of Phantom's life. He may have had a wonderful voice in the past, but as he is now, he could not be further from the stage.

I feel like I need a little more context about this. Shalem's town was flooded, but the Troupe exploded because of a wave of Oripathy? Where did it come from? Did I miss it somewhere? Obviously, this information is outdated because we know the Troupe exists in a much more bloody cult-like fashion now, but WHY? What is their point?

I can also tell you about the impressions I now have about him, but it may not be of any use to you, because there's a good chance you won't listen. But if you insist? Very well. I don't have much to say, but there is one suggestion. —Stay away from him. He's still caught in a nightmare, not fully awake yet.'

—A conversation with Schwarz

Schwarz?

This Schwarz?

Ma'amn you need to explain why you think all of that, I'm getting a little sweaty about how much people know and what they think about Phantom, because I kinda still do like him.

-Shalem trust 200-

He should have delivered that dagger to their heart, felt the spasm of their limbs, watched the light in their eyes little by little melt away. But the boy of the abyss did not do so. The weapon meant to murder instead cut the rope, and was handed to another to become a tool protective of life. And so did a meticulous production end. A play rendered a complete shambles by this boy of the abyss. A stage offered to him to prove his talent, so wasted and defiled by a conscience. Sinner, sinner! This coward, this lamentable coward. A hunter letting go its prey, presuming to still return to the castle, to report to its king. And yet he! He follows the prey's steps, disappears with it into the barrens' ends?! Let him be far from civilization, far from art, to go to that wild brink. He is fit only to be exiled.

HE ESCAPED BY TURNING ON THE TROUPE IN A MOMENT OF CONSCIOUS GUILT AND REBUTTAL!! My sweetest, tormented darling yeah, you get to stay in my husband team forever.

-Phantom Trust 200-

[Classified Log] We found the site of the incident that befell the troupe at the time.

Alright...

All the residences, facilities, and public spaces have been preserved as is, including the troupe's tents stationed in the park, just like in the records - the only thing that's missing are the residents.

Gosh, the description is like they got wiped away by Nuclear power. What in the world kind of Oripathy wave was that???

The best way to describe it is as if a piece of cake was sealed within a plastic bag, then thrown into a fervent crowd at an Iberian festival.

Someone gave their all fishussy to write this line.

What we managed to recover is pretty similar to whatever would be left in that bag afterwards. As for the portion of the data that was sent out, the path was too vague and could not be tracked.

Data sent out? Am I understanding this correct, the show was being streamed?

In order to verify the content, we played a portion of the video footage that could be considered somewhat intact. While doing so, three of the investigators present experienced degrees of psychological disturbance, so we were forced to temporarily seal off the remaining files.

What the absolute hell, so we never got to really see/hear what was happening? Was Phantom... the one to do this? Was he singing and it destroyed everything?

[Video File - Encrypted] [Encrypter - Kal'tsit] [Danger Level - 3] '■■■stage, death■■■■behind■■■loop, song■■, ■■■■end, all■begin.'

I need to ask Dr. Pinkie as soon as they wake up about this. I didn't read a lot of stuff about the game while I was playing it, only laughing at items I got.

-Shalem E2 Promotion-

When a person begins learning to perform, or takes up the profession of an actor, they bear for the rest of their life a curse: Are you doing what you would, or carrying out an endless performance?

This is not going anywhere nice.

Do you enact your true personality? Or is your false personality itself the true you? Oh, I imagine you likely can't make heads or tails anymore. Let me show you a way forth. Whether you're the bottomless boy of the abyss taking the stage, or the nobody Shalem aboard Rhodes Island. Listen to this suggestion from your old butler. Everything is a sham. You are not your own self. You were born a performance. Don't be led astray by your self. You are a role, and the role is all that you are. The role's choices are your choices. Now take the stage, performer. The time to offer yourself to art has come.

-Phantom E2 Promotion-

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