#shakes tk violently

[tiffykins-yeah]

My sketchbook is incomplete without the obligatory RayBinaryStarHero™️ sketch

While Procreate x Finger is a fun combo it’s nice to do a traditional drawing every once in a while 😆

I love the grumpy sprites of him so much

We stan the sleep deprived disgruntled man 💤

EDIT:

Here’s the digital version of this sketch

Can’t render hair but that face card will never decline 💅🏾

[corruptedslime]

A COLLECTION OF WITTLE DOODLES FROM WHITEBOARD

An on the spot Narry design. I deem him Atticus.

Ghostie and @marsalta 's TK talking

And Mar's TK once again!

THE TK BRAIN ROT IS SO REAL PEOPLE

[unorchido]

TIMEKEEPERS!! HEHHEGSGSH

@employee052 oswin I really adore your TK, he looks really fancy and majestic and I love him sm hdhsgsgshabjaa

@fcknboringraccoon I love them, truely I do, they look so smug and mischief and Hdhsggshshsjasgsja I love them hegsgsh

@lexumpysfunland!! Your BOI!!! SAM!!! I love them so much they're an absolute sweetheart and I wanna hug them and I wanna SQUEEZE EM hhsgdfHDGSG

@sheurb your Timekeeper is really cat coded I love them so much you can see the smug look on their face I love them hshdgsgshjsjshsjaaa

@lazy-b1rdy I WILL SMOOCH THEM /P AND WILL SQUEEZE THEM TILL THEY POP /POS they're one of my personal favorite Timekeepers hhtghrdghfsb I love them so much hgethgr

@shadowthedarkangel I KNOW I TOLD THIS TO YOU BEFORE BUT I LOVE THEM AND THEY'RE JUST A SMUG FUCK HGGEGFDDGHGB but I love them dearly bhggrgg

Last but not least @z-static-z DUDE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH JUST LOOK AT THEM I WANNA PUT THEM IN A JAR AND SHAKE THEM VIOLENTLY /POS /J HHESHGSGSBSJA LOOK AT THEM LIL GOOFY BUG HSHSGGSHSJAJA

+ a bonus shsggsgsa

I hold them all very close to myself hegeggga

I want to thank all of you for giving me permission to draw them! Hdgdgsghha,,,

[agent-calivide]

💎 👁️ for the ask game!

I answered [👁️ Does the Agency have any ill intentions?] in the recent ask, but I'll happily jump into 💎!

💎Are there physical side effects or lasting repercussions for Kinesium/TK use?

Oh absolutely.

I think putting a rock in your brain is gonna lead to side effects, especially since it basically creates an entirely new set of neural pathways for you to be able to use telekinesis. Hell, even just as an IEYTD player it's made weird muscle memory issues in VR. I was trying to play FNAF help wanted and kept on getting confused why I couldn't hover objects before remembering that was an IEYTD exclusive mechanic.

I think, over time, it would lead to carpal tunnel and numbness in the hands, and potentially even arthritis. Because something has to be lifting those objects, and we know that if it's something the agent can't lift, the TK can't either.

This is gonna get weird and wordy and fudged sciency for a second, so bear with me any actual scientists who know if this is just wildly wrong physics wise, but when breaking down the word telekinesis, you get tele- meaning far distance or transmitted over a distance, and kinesis- meaning movement/motion. Motion from a distance.

But when we look at the rock in the TK implant, it's not Telekinesium, just Kinesium. This shows that it's likely a rock that's high in kinetic energy, energy created through motion. Either that, or something that can transfer kinetic energy. This is something we see in House Call, as the Kinesium battery in Robutler violently vibrates, even making your controller shake outside the game. It's unclear if the rock itself is what's shaking and generating the energy directly or if the battery that Prism made has it in a sort of indefinite feedback loop of an initial burst of generated energy, that's being forced to ricochet off the rock, making a vacuum of indefinite energy that would be needed to power a robot like that, but either way it's putting out a ton of kinetic energy and actually looks a little destabilized.

With all that being said, I think the TK implant doesn't make it so the agent is able to do amazing feats purely just on the TK implant, I think that what the TK implant does is make it so the physical energy generated by the agent's body can be sent out to do things like lift and throw objects with the motions and force the agent puts out themselves. I think this over time would wear down the body just like any other physical activity, leading to aches, pains, and potentially chronic conditions depending on how much meticulous activity they use their TK for.

The only big asterisk is Operation KBOOM on specifically Agent Phoenix. I think, due to the excess of destabilized Kinesium and the adrenaline of the situation, the agent basically went into what's called Hysterical Strength, where they accomplished things that most humans couldn't do due to an adrenaline spike. Then on top of this, they sent their Hysterical Strength through the destabilized Kinesium to do something that would be considered impossible with the TK chip normally, moving those shield generators.

like Prism said "this is gonna hurt."

It's not just the internal migraine of over-using the chip, it's using the rest of the agent's body for energy that they normally couldn't have, leading to massive damage to their muscles and joints. This could also explain why they blacked out, their body giving in from the strain it was under. While they may heal from it, it undeniably was terrible for them, and likely took a long time to recover.

I also think it makes their eyes glow blue, but that's more for the vibes-

[honeybee-taskforce]

A little bit more from my upcoming project "not strong enough"! ft. my new five minute made banner to keep myself on track to actually getting it done by committing to weekly updates!! Thank you for the tags @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @paperstorm @sznofthesticks @heartstringsduet and @carlos-in-glasses !!

TK feels the air around him getting thicker, he blinks and clears the dryness from his eyes. He doesn't know how long he has been sitting here, but the sun has shifted a bit and he stretches the ache from his spine. He smiles and relaxes as he shakes his shoulders, still admiring the rain forest before him.

The birds and bugs that accompanied him on his way here are silent though, he realizes as he shakes himself down. A chill runs up his spine as he spins and takes in his immediate surroundings. He spots a larger branch sticking out from a brush nearby, and moves to grab it just in case.

TK is too late though, as the brush shakes violently and the piercing golden eyes, that were patiently watching him, pounce.

he'll be fine i promise (maybe) open no pressure tag to whoever sees!!

[strandnreyes]

wip wednesday

thanks @catanisspicy @heartstringsduet @paperstorm @alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton @reyesstrand !

I lied. I’ve still been poking around at the AIYWAMT sequel since sunday. if you haven’t read that and don’t want to know what the twist is, look away because this has spoilers

TK’s cheery demeanor that was present the whole way here starts to fizzle out as Carlos pulls into the parking lot of the church. He shifts in his seat once, and then twice, before rolling out his shoulders and stretching his neck to the side. 

Carlos tosses a glance in his direction as he parks the car. “You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he brushes off. “I can’t believe Tommy’s getting married.”

Carlos lets him have the deflection for now. “I know.” He reaches over to squeeze TK’s hand. “First wedding we’ve been to since ours.” 

TK smiles and then shifts again. He looks uncomfortable and Carlos wants to really ask him what’s wrong, but then Marjan is pulling into the space next to them and TK is getting out of the car to greet her. He puts on a good show, acting like everything is fine as they head inside, but Carlos knows him. He gets more and more uncomfortable as they file into the pew next to Nancy. 

There’s quiet music playing and low chatter around them as they wait for the ceremony to start. The stained glass windows glisten, there are beautiful flowers scattered about, and everyone’s buzzing with happiness for the couple. Except for TK.

His foot bounces on the floor so violently that Carlos thinks everyone in their row must feel it and when Carlos looks at him, his jaw is clenched so tight that the muscle is straining. 

“TK?” Carlos asks with worry. He rests his arm on the back of the pew, placing his hand on TK’s tension filled shoulder. 

TK shakes his head once, staring straight ahead. “I’m fine.”

Carlos doesn't believe him in the slightest and he keeps his hand on TK, feeling helpless. TK’s clearly not feeling well, but he seems adamant on toughing it out. Another minute passes where his muscles twitch like he’s trying to hold back from something and then his eyes squeeze shut. 

“I think I need to go,” he says just loud enough for Carlos to hear.

Carlos frowns, worry spiking. “What?

“I can’t be in here,” he murmurs as he locks eyes with Carlos. When Carlos sees that TK’s jaw is clenched together in a way he knows means TK’s trying to keep his fangs concealed, it clicks.

tagging @lightningboltreader​ @welcometololaland​ @rmd-writes​ @basilsunrise if you have anything to share!

[reyesstrand]

wip wednesday

thank youuu for the tag @alrightbuckaroo and @carlos-in-glasses <3 here’s a little more from the food fic!

There’s a punched-out baby behind him and TK turns just in time to suddenly have his arms full of his boyfriend—his strong, beautiful boyfriend—who trembles the moment TK hugs him properly. The edge of the kitchen island digs into his tailbone and he knows the toast is going to burn, but TK couldn’t care less.

“It’s okay,” TK murmurs, scratching his fingers through Carlos’ curls. He smells of organic soap and stale coffee and still, even though it’s impossible, a little like smoke. Maybe it’s woven into their skin forever, now, a reminder of what was violently lost.

“I don’t want to keep pushing you away,” Carlos finally whispers, his words safe in the crook of TK’s neck. “But nothing feels normal, and every time I close my eyes I see—I see us not making it, and—“

His voice breaks, and TK’s eyes burn. “I know, baby. I know.”

Carlos pulls back and blinks at him with shiny eyes, before he gently cups TK’s face. He tilts his head up, fingertips digging in gently under TK’s jaw, and TK hums a little in surprise when Carlos kisses him. He can still taste a hint of the orange they shared, and TK kisses back, basically running on muscle memory until he feels wetness on his cheeks and he remembers.

“Baby, wait—“ TK pulls back and drags his thumb under Carlos’ eye.

“I just need…” Carlos shakes his head and stares at the start of breakfast TK was making. Something far-away and unrecognizable passes over his eyes before they re-focus on TK. “I need to do something normal. I need to just be here, with you. Okay?”

no pressure tagging @strandnreyes @freneticfloetry @marjansmarwani @never-blooms @chaotictarlos @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @morganaspendragonss @theghostofashton @rmd-writes and anyone else who’d like to share, consider this an open tag!

[yandere-to-express]

The wrong cranium

Gender neutral

Part 4

"He won't eat pickles," the harried mother said, one hand carrying a baby and the other feeding french fries to the bigger child, one by one, the grease coating all five fingers, bringing a dull, worn shine to the wrinkling skin, the blood-red lacquered nails. Her claws embedded into the crispy yellow sticks, she carried the great haul en-mass into the maw of the child, which opened languorously to accept the filial offering.

You could not avert your gaze from the repulsive sight. Your hands, which are holding a palm-sized notepad and a cheap dollar store pen, had gone stiff, shaking, holding back violent urges you had never felt before.

"I understand," you murmur robotically, letting yourself cling to the walls of your skin. Your hand writes down something. "I will bring a replacement."

"Wonderful," the mother praises. "What a good employee. Did you hear that, Tom? Don't cry anymore."

The child's eyes are hazy, his face slack except for the mouth. Tear tracks are lining his cheeks, but they have already gone dry and salty. You note, with a shiver going through you, that there is mucus leaking out of his nostrils, which means there will be used napkins left on the table. Please, put it in the plate. Put it in the plate. Put it in the plate, with the other messes.

"Sure thing," you talk aloud, not addressing anyone.

Absentminded, you make your way back to the kitchen. The line cook, Hannah, takes one look at you and grabs your notepad, skimming the orders and doing her work without a word of complaint or a whisper of friendliness. The notepad is stuffed back in your hands, and you're left to stand alone on the door threshold. The skin all over you has pebbled in aggression, the feeling astringent against your psyche.

You un-tense your shoulders, swallowing it down. How long has it been? All day, all you could do was watch the outside wistfully, tracking the shades of blue behind clouds drifting in and out. Darker and deeper it went, but never dark enough, never changing hue to the lovely orange that awaited the end of day. Your uniform has grown damp and saggy around your figure too. As a sweat drop drips down your temple, you notice the rigid curve of your spine, vertebrae packed tightly together.

No wonder. You feel smaller. The work has worn you down in more ways than one. You look down at your hands— and see your wrist bones, jutting out. Your veins are swollen under your skin, and when you turn them over, you can watch the visible proof of your pulse, desperate with each pump, blue and green intertwined.

Thump.

You trace it down your inner arm, dipping into your elbow. It jumps inside your bicep, like the whimper of a wound.

Thump.

Inside your neck, it climbs to your skull. You tilt your head back, unblinking, staring at the tiled ceiling and the sharp fluorescent light overhead, staring back at you. Dark flowers bloom in your vision.

…Thump.

Your neck cracks, bringing relief. You inhale, but the process is chopped. It clings to your throat before surrendering, disappearing into your lungs; you feel its function distinctly with every motion. Your chest rises almost exaggeratedly, and caves in with equal fanfare through every breath. Mechanical. A step in the algorithm.

It's a slow coming realization, impeded by exhaustion: there's no instinct to your body. It moves, it acts, but it doesn't know. It obeys you. But it doesn't obey as it has done for the past decades you've had it. It obeys because it's yours, because you know it should do certain processes in the background of your daily life. It's pure, unknowing, a blank slate of renewal and reduction both.

"It's not empty," you whisper. "I'm not empty. I'm okay."

A clatter draws your attention away. In the other room, TK is helping Hannah prepare orders, which reminds you of the hours and hours left of your shift. You hurry over to help them and deliver the dishes to their respective buyers, taking payments and receiving new orders. Cleaning abandoned tables.

In one, you stop in your tracks.

The slimy napkin you dreaded to death is sitting alone in the middle of the table. You can feel the disgusting paws of the sullen child all over it, soaked into the very air it is surrounded by.

Utilizing a second napkin, you pick it up. Drop it in the plate. Done, you tell yourself, wishing away the trembling. It's over.

You go back to the kitchen. You carry perhaps a dozen plates in one weak hand, though it doesn't quiver— it doesn't have the energy to. They're put beside the sink, just like every other dish that's passed into your hands. Without hesitation (but with a certain resignation) you start washing. Rinse, soap up, scrub, rinse. Metal wool, sometimes. Extra soap for grease. Twist furiously inside the mouths of cups, then let the frothing tap water outpour down the rims, bathing your hands dull beige.

As the water keeps running, you look at the vortex above the drain and exhale.

Chest caves in, rises back up.

It's dark inside. You can see the hint of dark, murky green, laden with moss or something worse that you cannot imagine, but you don't look away.

It's so… unending. You visualize a round, wide-open mouth in its place, and think of the amount gulped down its gullet. You cannot calculate it (too tired, too uninterested) but it makes you freeze and stare a little more intently. How parched, how hungry would you need to be, to consume so wholeheartedly?

You move the cup aside to see it more clearly. The drain keeps working, and the water keeps going, and the smell of wet metal wafts over to you. The vortex, over time, loses its color, then its lines…

Then its sound.

The drain is dark and quiet. There's no telling what lies inside it, but you know. You don't need to see to know, bu̟t̰ ̫y͙o͍̼u̻̪ ̠g̤a͎z̡e into its dept̶h̸s̶,̷ ̴d̸o̶w̵n̷,̴ ̵d̶o̷w̴n̶ ̵t̶h̴e̷ ̷p̶i̵p̴e̴,̸ ̶a̶n̸d̸ ̷s̵q̴u̸i̷s̴h̶̢͍e̶͚ḑ̸ ̷̳i̸̭̱n̴̦͍s̸̫̞i̵͚̠d̶̢ę̷ͅ ̴̣t̵̗̰h̶͔ę̸ ̸̩ț̷̘i̷̩g̷̪͉h̷͎t̵͎ ̶̖t̶͚̣u̴̢n̶̻ͅn̴͓e̵͖l̷̠̬s̷̢ ̶͜a̶̟ṋ̸̪d̴̘͓ ̷̖l̶̖̼a̴̺b̴͈̖y̷̥͙r̷̮̙i̶̙̼n̵̬̦t̵͉h̶̻̞i̶̫ṇ̴̱e̴̫ ̵͎̻n̶̮ḛ̸t̷̗̣w̸̠o̴͓r̷͓k̷͇ ̷̼̩o̵̢ͅf̴͇͜ ̸̡n̶͉o̴̡̞t̶̢̖h̵̥̝i̵̗n̸͍g̵̣̹n̸̫e̸͈͇s̴̯s̶̟̲,̴̼ ̶̲y̶̥o̴͉̫u̷̖̼ ̸͚f̶̖̩e̴ͅe̵̠̜l̷̤̹ ̴̰i̵̯t̵̮ ̴̧͎p̵̱u̴͉l̵͎̥s̴̨͍̖͉̤i̸̞̞ͅn̵̞̤g̸̖̘,̴̪̱̭̝ ̴͖c̶̮͔͕͜o̴̘̰̳̖n̸͔s̵̺̳t̷̗̩r̷̲̭̖͜i̵̩̜̯c̴̡̡̣̪ͅt̴̡͍͇ͅį̵̹͓̙n̶͇̼͎g̴̤̥̠̬.̸͚̘͎̤̼ ̸͖̦͔̗D̵̨̡̼̳r̷͕̗̣͖̜a̵̜̼g̶͙͍̫̤g̴̠̣̲ͅi̶̤̯̝̭͜n̵̨̬̠g̷̨̢͈͔̭ ̵̹̬̩̤̮d̵̡͍̺ͅͅȩ̷̳̣e̷̡̞̩p̴̝̲̳̪e̸̡̳r̴̖̯ͅ,̵̫̘̤̩ ̴̙̞͖̣̝f̶̢̡̼̼͇e̵̙͕̝̤e̷̗͈͕͍ḑ̶̜̭̝̮i̷̼͉̜̪ṉ̵͚ģ̶͍̼ ̴̱̟͙o̴̫n̵͚͉ ̸̡̦͉y̷̯o̶̢͕̣̲u̶̟͓—̷̢

01101000 01110101 01101110 01100111 01100101 01110010 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110011 01110100 01100001 01110100 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101110 01110100 01100001 01101001 01101110 01110011 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01101001 01101110 01100110 01101001 01101110 01101001 01110100 01100101 01110011

||SAVE//:01100110 01100101 01100001 01110010||

You stumble back with a desperate, raspy inhale, your chest rising and stuttering in motion. Curled inward, you watch the running sink, the shards of a broken cup crunching beneath your feet.

Some animals eat their prey whole, don't they?

You shudder, sinking to your knees, uncaring for the shattered ceramic. The sharpness sinks into your skin, but doesn't break. Like how play-dough cannot be hurt, because it's not meant to be. You repeatedly and rapidly attempt to restart your breathing process, but something is not responding. The respiratory structures and organs below your neck aren't working.

There's no air. Why are you so calm?

You try to wheeze for a breath. It doesn't work. If anything, it's complicating your work. You try harder. It resists harder. You cannot breathe, you cannot breathe— you drag your hands along the floor where you're lying on your knees, thinking you could crawl away to safety.

"Hey."

You hear a voice, saying your name. It puts a new knot in your throat.

"Are you there? I heard—"

The door opens to let in TK, their eyes searching and worried. When they spot you, they are quick to run to your side.

"Oh my God," they whisper, horrified. Their hands hover for a moment, snapping left and right like they can't decide what to do, and then settle behind you, clutching your shoulder and rubbing your back. "Hey—" Your name, spilling so easily out of their lips. "Come on, calm down, it's okay. You're okay. I— Follow my breathing, okay?"

You stare at them with dead eyes, and unwilling flesh. Nevertheless, they narrow their eyes determination, and begin making their chest move. It rises, rib cage flaring, diaphragm flattening, blood rushing, and you try to follow the rhythm.

A wheeze of air passes through.

"That's it," TK encourages, voice alike a sob, as if mirroring your utter anguish. "The muscles tighten, air comes in… And they soften, air goes out."

Their chest falls back, pulse calming down. You can hear it moving inside them, the friction of bone and ligaments, and the relief of air, blooming into blood.

Your lungs let go. Air passes through, out, and when you breathe next, it goes in as it's supposed to, without error or stubbornness.

TK relaxes. "Yeah. Just like that. You're a natural, aren't you? Passed with flying colors." There's a placid, but worn lull in the atmosphere. "Are you okay?"

Are you ever? You manage a small nod, not trusting your voice— to not crackle or to not burst into wails, no idea which. You've never felt such a wild, discomfiting mix of emotions before; things that have no right lingering close had suddenly tangled together, all without your consciousness noticing.

You imagined that this is how a newborn baby, just out of the womb, would feel. Overwhelmed. Frightened. Lonely, yet not. Out of control, but simultaneously in control for the first time of its existence.

You settled on 'overwhelmed.'

"Good," TK replied, rubbing your back a bit more. "Wait, let me get you some water—"

They stood up to get it, carefully side-stepping the ceramic shards. You should probably ask them not to, but you couldn't even muster the strength to lift your head, so you couldn't protest when TK held the cup tilted for you, matching the flow to the speed of your gulps.

"Dehydration worsens everything," they said. "I remember my mom nagging me about it. She never let me leave the house without drinking a tall glass of water, and the habit stuck. Once I got into college and had my first taste of freedom, I decided I'd cut myself some slack and relax on routine."

"Didn't work?"

TK snorted. "Nope."

They took the cup and washed it at the sink. You remembered that your job won't wait for you, and the customers won't either, so you attempt to stand up… only to flinch away at the sound of clattering shards, falling from your limbs.

TK turns to look at you, but you can only stare at the debris and your unscathed arms. The fragments aren't safe— their edges are sharp, glinting like chef's knives spread out before stove fire, but despite this, as you turn your forearms over and back, you can only see unmarred flesh, without any scarring visible.

What the fuck happened to me, you think.

You were fine this morning. There was no complicated existence to panic about. While you sat beside Peter and talked about nothing, everything felt as pleasant as can be. And here you were now, frozen in fear. Unable to finish even one waiter shift because you were too busy stressing about a defective body.

"Hey," TK calls out to you, "I think you should clock out now."

"Huh?" You can't. The shift's not over yet. And in the game, wasn't today exceptionally busy? You couldn't leave TK to handle it alone— well, technically you could, but you'd feel guilty. You don't want to get used to someone picking up the slack for you, because there was a very real chance that you'd snowball down that rabbit hole.

"Thanks, TK, but I don't wanna push my luck today," you said, kneeling down, and started to collect the shards by the handful. If they didn't hurt you, why not use it to your advantage?

"Jesus— don't just scoop them up! Use a broom at least, what if you get hurt?"

"It's fine, they aren't sharp."

TK didn't seem convinced, but let you clean the mess anyway, taking over dish washing duty instead. You were grateful for that. You didn't know what looking at the drain again would do, and you intended to avoid that fate for as long as you could. Collecting all the fragments on your apron, you dropped them into the trash bin and swept the remaining dust off, rushing out to collect orders and clean tables.

 

 

All day, you slaved away in the restaurant; cleaning, serving, dealing with idiots. While you worked, you did your best to hold yourself together, to keep your pieces in one place until the time when you could fall apart, a shattered body all over the couch.

Your lifeline, as it were, was the promise of a nice night out. As you mopped the floor tiles, tidied tables, and topped up coffees along the counter row, your mind went out to the fantasy of a quiet, chilly night, the smell of earth and grass under an empty space. Maybe after the date, Peter could take you to the park? You resolved to ask him about it… once he came back.

You checked the hour: four thirty. Fifteen minutes left until your shift ends. When was he going to arrive? At the very end? That would be incredibly suspicious, and for his sake, you prayed to a higher power that he'd refrain. You didn't mind, per se, but you were the type to just blurt things out without care for propriety, and the more obvious Peter got, the more effort required to keep your fucking mouth shut and not give it away.

Sighing, you threw away an abandoned receipt into the trashcan below the register, and wondered whether it was worth it to keep quiet. He'd catch on eventually, and you'd have to talk.

That's what's scaring you, isn't it?

"Alright," came TK's voice, "out with it. What's up?"

"What's up… with me?"

"Yeah." Obviously, was what followed naturally, but you had learnt that TK had a modicum of tact, so of course they would leave it out. "You've been working here for weeks now, but never have I ever seen you sigh in all our time together— not even when the boss threatened to sack us without severance pay."

Okay, scary. Original Y/N was double scary. Props to whoever they were. "It's… kinda complicated, and I don't think I can explain it without sounding like a maniac."

They grinned. "A dash of intrigue? No prob. Just know that you can tell me any time, any day, alright?"

You seriously didn't deserve this person's kindness. You just didn't. This was such a fact that it didn't even make your heart twinge. When it all crashed down and your life was in shambles, you would have to send them some sort of consolation gift, to thank them for their care.

"Thanks, TK. I wish I could tell you."

"Glad to hear that. By the way, could you check in with Hannah? I think she needs a line chef in the kitchen— I'll handle the customers."

They glance out the window panes, squinting behind their glasses. "Oh, geez. Guess who's knocking on our door? The evening rush."

You turn to look, only to freeze at the sight of a familiar silhouette, barely visible behind the reflection. Same height, same shirt, same gangly limbs, and when you shifted for a better view, you were able to glimpse the face under the hood: a pair of wide-open, bright blue eyes, and a smile curving horrifically.

Yup. That's him.

"Is it me, or… is that guy looking in?" TK asked, discomfited.

"Lookin' in, sorry. That's, uh, my boyfriend."

"Your—" Their head span around in a perfect hundred-eighty degree to goggle at you. "Your— what? This guy? Your—"

They looked back, as though checking whether or not they were hallucinating the creep factor, but no, TK, you thought, that's one-hundred percent natural. All bio creep. No preservatives or artificial coloring added, honest-to-god, bona-fide creep. I'm so fucking sorry to subject you to this.

"Your boyfriend," they said.

"Yeah."

"Just so we're clear, it's not the eighty-year-old man leaning on the cane, but the two-meter tree branch with fangs, right?"

"You're absolutely correct."

TK stared at you speechlessly, mouth moving without words, and you let your vision zoom out into distant lands, resolutely watching the yellow leak stain on the ceiling. Please, end the conversation. Right now.

"You know what," TK said at last. "This is not my problem… If he turns out to be a serial killer, let me know and I'll call the police for you."

"TK, please stop talking. I'm dying."

"You will once he drags you into an alleyway."

You know what they say: first impressions last forever. In Peter's case, it seems he's ardently devoted to push this rule to its worst potential, constantly disturbing the peace in hopes on garnering even the slightest bit of distrust. Why was he watching you creepily at the diner when he could just hang out by your apartment window? That was perfectly private! This is public!

You caught his gaze through the glass, and waved at him. Despite his eerie appearance, Peter broke into an angelic smile, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, and waved back. Seeing as you were paying attention, he began mouthing words: Hello. Something that looked like 'darling'. I'm here, followed by a pointed finger at his feet. Then, lifting his wrist and putting his index finger on it, miming a wristwatch. Okay?

Ah, was he trying to hurry you up? Was that a guilt-trip thing, or just an innocent 'Is your shift over?' You'll never know because you'll never ask, and even if you asked, he'd obviously answer with the latter just to gain brownie points. This wasn't the right time to be honest yet. For neither of you.

Before you could get tangled up in unnecessary thoughts, you sent him a thumbs-up and went back into the kitchens. Hannah did need help— there were simply too many orders at once, and Stephan just wasn't good enough of a multi-tasker to handle the extra load. You helped until the workload went back to normal, then clocked out, waving bye to TK as you went back to the entrance.

While you were gone, the sky had darkened, rain clouds gathering above to drizzle drop by drop. When you stepped a foot outside, you were immediately caught in a pair of arms, warmth swallowing you up.

"I missed you all day," your stalker whined, covering the top of your head with his chin. "How was it? Did you get fired?"

You relaxed into the heat, the embrace, releasing a frigid breath. Your head was silent for the first time since this morning, unburdened by worries or distractions. No clutter to push out… Nothing to sigh about.

Just Peter's scent, and his hug, and his excited, pleasant voice.

"Darling?" he asked concernedly. "Was it bad?"

You wrapped your arms around him in return. Mustering the energy to speak was impossible, so you sank further into the comfort, not even feeling the rain soaking your jacket.

"Heh, not that I'm not enjoying this… but are you okay? Do you need— Do we have to reschedule? I don't mind. We definitely can. Anything you want, okay? Just, will you please talk to me?" He sounded a bit shaky. "It's… ha ha, just, it's weird to not hear you when I chatter. You know?"

You force yourself to speak. "It was—"

s̨̺͇̝o̺̱̣ą̡̪͇͇p̨̥̹͎̹̳ ̨͓͕͜u͙̣̫p̥͍̻͙̠,͎ ̢̨̤̙̹͓s̝̼̝̲͜c̡͎̭̭͚r̡͎̗̞͙̥u̺b̧̢͙̬̠͜ ̪͚E̻̞͈̫̦͇X̙̦͓̱͙T̙͓̮R̙Ạ̭ ̧͓̩S̲̗̟͎͎Ǫ͇̲̲͖A̦͕͕͇P̗͇͜ ̘̝͖͇̞f̧͚̥̹o̖͔͈r̙͉̤̪ ͍G̟̺͖R̨͉̤̠̫͓E̲͚E̲̥E̟̯̹E͕̻͙̼̟ḚA̰̮̘͉͈̼S͙̞̳E̬̻ ̢̬͚̼̗̱01101111 01101100 01100100 00100000 01101110 01100101 01110111 01110011r͎̬̭ͅo̼̘̩̯ͅụn̗̱̹̝͈d̩,̨̪̦̭̝͕ ̧̤̜̱ͅw̡͈͖̬̙͕i̱͇d̨̠̯̙͍e̙-̰̳ọ̺̩͍͕̝p̦̦̘̙ȩ͍̹̳n̩͎ ̤͓͍m̢̡͚̣̫͍o̫̰u͙͚̞t̢̜͎̮ḩ̡̜ ͓̝̥̲F̙̘͇̠E̥̪̳͕E̤̲̫̗̯D̫͜ ͍̣M͔̩E̹͕̭ ̳T͍̗̜Ḥ͓͕̭ͅȨ̗̠ ͙W̻͈O̧R̨̙̱̥L̢̨̨̯͜D̥̲ ̞̤̖D̡̗͈̻ ̧̢͓̘D̹̗ ͍̫̙̮̝̬D̫̗͉͚͉ ͉̯̣̠̙T̨̪̮̙H̡̢͇̭͖̦E̘̲͖̜ ̦T͖̗̮H̺E̩̪̳ ̲̻͇̳͖̣T̲͖̞̺͈ͅH̦̠E̗̳ ̩͔̫̞͜I̯̙͓I͙͖̤̬I̧̬̲̱͕͕I̜I̧͕̭͚̭̳I̥I̬̝I͙̦̭̫̝͎I̡̘I̞̺͎̦̬I͎̻̻I̢̢̱̲̹I̡͎̘̰I̤̥I̻̺̞̖̖

d̷̢̢̟̏̂a̶̛̬̘͊͒̾ŗ̵̣̯͇̽͐͊̑k̷̤͎͙͙̎͑̑̌ ̶̻̞̞̻̏͊͑̏d̷̳͉̱̯̽́̆ạ̸̥͙̔͂̊̾r̷͇̿́k̶̥̼̲̐́̈̏ ̵̗̪̯̪̎͆d̴͍̤̞̓a̷̰̟͚͛̊͐r̶͇̋̈́͒k̸̺̻̰͎͆̿̄͠ ̸̡̹̊̀̾͗a̴͈͉̱̻̎̀d̵̝͈̄́̓ã̵̲̩͖r̵̪̞̗̓k̵̗̊͗̀̍ ̷̛̪̖͔̗͒̌ď̵͓̊̅̈́ǟ̴̡̜̈k̶̨̘͚̈̀́ȓ̴͓̽͑k̶̳̺̙̈́̐͛k̶̖͐ ̵̡̪̄͒́̄d̴͍̥́́ȃ̷̺ȓ̶̗k̶͎͊ ̴̯͕̀͑͠k̸͈̝̗̎̑̏f̷̠̳̭͉̍̒̀k̷̛͔̓̾k̵̞̃͋͝k̸̞̎̋k̸̝̀͛̓̕ ̶̟͚̩̈̀̇̀ḍ̸̙̫̣̋̕a̴̲̦͓͒r̵͙͑̂͗k̶̨̻̽̃ ̷̓͜d̶̢͍̳̔͌ã̴̧̬̠͖̉̈k̸̖̞̾͊̇͝r̵̲͔̼͝ ̷̘͚̀̒̿̕k̴̰͈͠d̴̜̭͇̙̐̂͋ã̵̤͔ṙ̷̯̭͂k̶͍̇̑̅̒ ̶̠̥̮̓͘d̵͈̖̃́̏̄á̷̳͔̲̏̈́̚r̶̦̋k̴̨͛ ̴͍͉̄̓d̴̯̓a̵̯̓͋̿ͅr̸̦̻̟̖̄̅̈́̄k̷̲̓̆ ̴̤̤̅d̴̢̖̀̀ͅã̷̡ͅk̷̢̢̥̬̒̿̆̽r̸̥̘͌̀͑͜ ̷̻̔͝W̴͙̱̬̮͒͋̏͝W̷̘͎͠W̸̖̺̃͌̇Ẅ̶̪͙͉́̈́́W̷̔́͋̀̀̈́̔͂̔̂̄̚͝͝͝W̵̍̓͛̂̒͘͠W̸͑̽̃̐̓̒̈́W̷͊̋͑̽̌̈̈́̀͗͊̈́̇́͘͠W̶̆̎̐̊̎́̈́̌̋̀̕̚W̵͌͆̃́̅̇͐̎̑͐͘Ŵ̸̛̀̈̈́͆̈́̎̆̒̀W̶̊̏̒̋̏̐̌̈́́̚W̸̉̋̅͑͆̍͘Ẁ̴͛̂͗̓͆̐͑͌͐͒̕W̶͝  and at the bottom of the drain, you stood, awaiting y̤̏̓̐̕̚͠o̘͆͝ú̢̞͚̲͈̟̲̅̾̄̓r͍̟̝̐̾̃ͅs̢͍̤͂́͝ḙ̰̆̓̿̾̕͝l̛̟͕̬̯̬̲͇̩f̩̻͚̫̽ in your own stomach /// when will you S̸̛̥T̵͖̚O̴̯͌P̸̪̅ ̸̫̀S̸͈͗T̵̲͆Ȯ̴̜P̶̪̑ ̷̲̐S̸̠͊T̷̖̊Õ̷̬P̷̤̉?̴͎͋ ̵̱̉?̸̳̎?̴̖́ fear consumes you, pushes you down its gullet, and you stand here wondering when did you die? M̸E̵E̴E̷E̶E̶ 01100100 01101111 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01101011 E̵E̴E̸E̷E̶E̸E̶E̸E̸E̶E̵E̶E̶—

"—fine," you answer. You were stopped from lingering on it. You recognize it now. "I missed you too. All day."

"You did?" Peter asked. "Really? Missed me? When, how did that happen?"

"Do you want me to describe it like, a case report? Like an interrogation tape? 'Where were you last night, what was your purpose' style?"

"Why not?"

Well, there was it: why not? Maybe it'd make him happy.

"The first time," you started, burying your face into his shoulder. "I was taking orders, and this middle-aged lady came in and tried to ask for a second order on the house because she dropped the first one on the pavement. But in a really polite, aggravating way. You know how some rude people act well-mannered? I wanted to punt her into the curb."

"And then you thought about me?"

"Yeah. I wished you were there so I could get you a second order on my paycheck."

"…You mean, you weren't thinking of me because you wanted someone more reasonable, but because… actually, I don't know. Why did you think that?"

"Well," you murmured, "obviously, because I like you."

Suddenly craving contact, you removed your tired arms from around his waist and put them over his shoulders, around his neck. You had to stand on your tip-toes for that, but somehow, the position wasn't as taxing as it was in your before-life.

Luckily, Peter was there to support you. He crouched a little to reach your legs, then hauled you up under your thighs, carrying you on one bicep with no visible strain. 

...Woah.

You were abruptly eye to eye with him— and better, you were privy to the tender little flush on his face, close enough to savor the sight without shame.

"So you'd— put up with me being an asshole just cause you… like me."

You averted your eyes. This closeness seemed to be a two-way street, unfortunately. "Not exactly 'put up with'. I imagined you there and thought, even if you were being a jerk, I'd give you a meal cause you'd look cute eating it."

Was that weird? Double standards existed for everyone--- people would have different thresholds for different people, right? You weren't abnormal in that regard. Were it anyone else, you'd be insulted, exasperated, impatient— with him, your priorities lay somewhere else. You'd have rather died than compensate that customer, but somehow, the image of him stuffing his face full warmed you head to toe. 

Your mind flashed back to your dinner date last night. The glow of Peter's round cheeks, the happy sigh of relieved hunger, his languorous, steady heartbeat as it pulsed under your touch. A healthy, full heart. Flowing blood.

Uh, you thought, embarrassed for no reason. Let's not linger.

"You know what," you said. "This is mortifying. Let's talk about something else."

He made a cute little snort, then laughed with bared teeth, molars glinting in the street light. You could barely suppress the urge to smash your mouths together. How dare he smile like that? How dare he make you so happy, with only the movement of his face? You released the want through your breath, let it dissipate.

"Let's go to the van," Peter suggested. Without waiting for a reply, he started carrying you across the crosswalk, one hand gently braced on your hip.

"Peter? Peter! Oh God, I can walk, I can walk I can walk I can walk— let me down, people are gonna look!!"

He paid no heed to your desperate wails, merrily making his way down the road. What an asshole, what a bastard. Your heart was so warm, so squished, so warm.

[shytastemakerthing]

Hello! I saw that your matchups were open and I’d like some please?

For twisted wonderland, some romantic and platonic maybe? Idk. I kind of don’t know what I’m doing lol

Things about me bc that’s probably important:

- I am very……..very scatterbrained. I can remember what happened 10 years ago but not last week. Yesterday is nothing to me. My memory is either crystal clear or blurred completely, there’s no inbetween.

- Sometimes whether it’s late at night or just after a good movie I have what I call “crack energy” where I’ll start laughing hysterically at the most mundane things or at random things that I say.

- I have a lot of nervous tics, like picking dead skin on my fingers and rocking on my feet but I also have a few verbal ones as well (idk what else to call them, I make these random noises that change slightly depending on my mood).

- Depending on the circumstances I can either be extremely adaptable and rise to the occasion (like emergencies or when someone needs first aid) and in others I end up having a lot of anxiety than is healthy to the point where I’ll start to shake/count money wrong (the line at DQ starts to get pretty long). But either way, I’m very good at trying things out at least once.

- I?? I love frogs and snakes and all sorts of critters. I also love macabre decorations like animal bones used to decorate picture frames? I live for that. Mushrooms have been among my favorite types of fungus for years, I love seeing how people have studied them.

- while I’m not the most athletic person, I do take a Brazilian jiu jitsu class twice a week and I’m close to testing for my final belt in a self defense class. It’s really fun, but violent (In my first class I learned the guillotine choke which has become my favorite since then).

- No matter what happens I try to look on the bright side of things, although with a slightly morbid twist. Like, for example, “if this campsite floods and we’re swept away, at least we’ll be a cool news story to read about” or something. Also, I love to travel and visit people.

- I am very affectionate, but when a certain time of the month rolls around I am very VERY emotional, and it’s awful the two days leading up to it. When I’m really angry at something I have what my family calls a “death glare” that my brothers are apparently terrified of. It’s only something I can properly pull off when I’m properly mad, and I I can’t think about it either or else it doesn’t work. If I’m not angry, I might be crying over something small (usually the result of a whole bunch of other things spilling over into a breakdown.

- I have a weighted stuffed octopus and it’s become one of my most prized possessions. I have a lot of stuffed animals but it’s become my favorite bc I love feeling weight on me for some reason.

Hope that was enough, have a good night amazing human!!!

Hello and thank you for your request!! I hope you are well and in regards to this request, I did both a romantic and platonic match up!

Enjoy!!

Romantic:

I match you with........

Jade Leech

🍁 As soon as he heard about your love for mushrooms, you gained an invitation to join thr mountain lovers club as well as an invitation to come and help him take care of his terrariums pretty fast. He is committed.

🍁 You both often find each other swapping cacts about various mushrooms that you have learned about all while watching each other as if you both just hung the stars in the sky (Floyd sees this and gags..... he's lonely)

🍁 Speaking of Floyd, Jade has had tk take care of him for a good long while and his own personality so needless to say, he can handle you being scatterbrained better than anyone else. Honestly, he says that Floyd is so much worse so this is actually pretty nice.

🍁 To help with how your brain can be in recalling much of anything, he has left quite a few little sticky notes all around for you to find with needed information. Every single day, there is one on your door reminding you to take necessary breaks and to eat something.

🍁 Now, these anxious habits of yours? He has plenty of much better alternatives for you to help with this, mostly goes for picking your dead skin. He would happily whisk you away for an easier and far more relaxing mean of getting rid of it, free of charge. He is very well intune with your emotions and anxiety to know when it all begins even before you do. Anxiety has gone down because of this eel.

🍁 He does not mind your affectionate nature (again, Floyd), and to be honest, he quite loves it. Just make sure there is no one else around to see such softness and we will be just fine.

🍁 And when that lovely time of suffering arrives (IYKYK😭), he has everything that you need before you even say it.... EVERYTHING. Water? Check. Snacks? Grabbed all of your favorites on the way here. Pain mess? He keeps them even in HIS dorm. If a mess has been made? He has already has a warm shower running for you and while you're standing there, he has already changed the sheets and got dirty ones in tbe washer, fresh sheets on the bed, followed by your favorite drink, snack, book, and/or movie ready. Then helps you wash up, gets you in fresh clothing and now you're relaxing comfortably in bed wktn your loving eel.

🍁 Overall, if there is anything you need, Jade will a absolutely have it ready for you. He loves when you hike with him for new mushrooms or surprise him by showing up at the lounge, or even just your presence alone, he is very much happy.

Platonic:

I match you with......

Azul Ashengrotto

🐙 I saw that you have a weighted octopus plushie and that settled this debatebfir me as for a platonic matchup. (I want one now but y'know....*cries in broke*)

🐙 Azul would be the absolute KING at heloig through your nerves and anxieties. Look, he may not look it, but he has plenty if these issues himself, and he has found many helpful ways to work through them that he will be sharing with you, free of charge because you're able tk keep Jade in check, which also helps to keep Floyd in check.

🐙 He saw your weighted octopus plushie and nearly lost it because it was probably the best thing that this poor boy has seen (somebody please give the octopus a hug, he needs it). He has gotten you more.

🐙 As his dearest friend, as he likes to refer to you as, you do get discounts at the lounge. And ONLY you. It's not much as he still wants to bring in the madol, but hey, something is a lot better than nothing.

🐙 Speaking of Madol, if he hears your struggling a hit lately, of are just running a bit low and are in need of some things, he is on his way to your aide, no contract needed (honestly, he stopped trying after a week after seeing you would never sign one, and you're also dating his vice housewarden, who happens tk be his right hand mand, who also happens to be his childhood best friend).

🐙 I can see Azul as someone who would like some macabre things. He lived under the ocean, the ocean is a very dangerous place, and you use what you have. Skeletal remains are among those things, so this live of yours would not bother him. He'd even help you collect.

🐙 Overall, a friendship with the hoursewarden of Octavinelle and the leader of the infamous trio has quite a lot of benefits for you. Not that you are complaining. Great perks, discounted food, and so much more. It's certainly worth it.

[throwingselfoutwindow]

TK, waking up in a cold sweat: Babe *shakes Carles violently*

Carlos, waking up like a war vet: What-

TK, in tears: do you like me?

[jayflrt]

it’s literally 1 am I couldn’t sleep honestly. now im trying to keep myself sane finishing that last chapter OMFG IM GOING TO LOSE IT 🫠 THIS LINE THIS WHOLE PART >>>>

"You think I don't want you?" He nearly barked out a laugh, disbelief thick in his voice. He let his head drop onto your shoulder, breathing out a few more baffled laughs before you felt his hot breath fan your skin. "You have no idea what you do to me. God, Y/N, you consume my every thought-day and night." When he raised his head again, there was a piercing intensity in his dark eyes. "I punched Hoon for you. I punched him 'cause he hurt you." He closed his eyes and sucked in a sharp breath that seemed to shake his entire body. "I'm not a violent person by any means. I just couldn't stand hearing how he treated you."

IM SO LOSING MY MIND IM TRYING TK KEEP CLAM I CANNOT OH GOD SAVE ME AHHHHHHH

theory anon

AHAHAH the self indulgence was going HARD for that chapter like i've been keeping up this tension between them i can't let him fully break yet 🤧

[smilingangel582]

A new form of punishment?

Hii this bl is quite popular among many communities. In case you finished watching the series or at least the novel... Read my tk fic! I swear this is a good one. A cute one!

Warning for spoilers, sex, bondage, swearing, and kissing...

It happened again. Pete wondered if Kun-Kinn (boss or mister in thai) was purposely punishing Porsche out of spite since the guy barely tried addressing him as 'sir' or another respectful.

Arm and Pol already looked anxious for their buddy Porsche, and Pete felt the same. He had been with Kinn for a while and everyone was worried as usual.

"He's here at last..."

Pete spoke with concern, seeing the person approach, meanwhile Porsche wincing as he took each step rather painfully. It burdened their hearts to see their fellow bodyguard is weakned.

Yet in Porsche's mind, the pleasure of pain was taking over... the memory of Kinn's sexy magn -ahem! Nobody needs to know that Porsche had his secret with the mafia boss. Punishment-more like reward and yet his butt might spilt open from the pain, and that makes it an effective punishment.

"Ai-Porsche!" (A honorific for friends)

Porsche was startled, and immediately, his mind escaped from the alluring look of Kinn he imagined briefly, straightening himself he feigned pain (like he's not feeling enough -Kinn certainly numbed his lower body)

"Are you OK?"

Porsche cleared his throat, "Not bad... Kinn was a bit aggressive today," partially it was true. Kinn was merciless.

Pete patted his back now and Porsche had to show a fake cry of pain so show he was being whipped "Ah... Pete it still hurts..."

Pete's innocent face was shocked with concern, and he shakily said, "My friend, allow me to heal your wounds.. "

Shaking his head quickly before the cats out of the bag, Prosche moved away "No need... um well it will heal so... I'm gonna crash early today."

It was chapter closed. Nobody argued or asked anything, Porsche had been interested in what new methods will Kinn 'punish' him next time.

A few days went and Porsche fell into another problem with Ken this time. The half foreign man just downright yelled and spat at him for being so disrespectful about the mafia. But all Porsche did was talk to Vegas in a friendly way. Kinn knew this and said he will double the punishment on Porsche.

Porsche smiled through pursed lips to conceal his internal happiness with Kinn's sexual punishments. Will he be violent to suck him and devour him, or will he tease him arousingly. Porsche was more than just enthusiastic. He was excited.

Now here he was with Kinn greeting him out from his room, pulling him to a hungry kiss and hooking his tongue with his. Porsche was prepared for this, yet he was surprised when Kinn did not put on the condom on both of them as he cuffed Porsche to the bed.

"Something you forgot?"

Kinn smirked, he beautiful smile suddenly tempting Porsche to kiss those lips. He leaned forward and playfully tapped his nose "I'm doing something fun with you but I feel you will hate it,"

"Oiii!" Porsche whined now dropping his momentum against the fluffy sheets of the bed, "but I want you to eat me!"

Kinn shook his head, now tracing Porsche's naked ribs, making the latter flinch. This touch was not the usual touch. This was a bit too light and unbearable than his usual tracing.

"K-Kinn this Is too... um l-light..."

Kinn hummed playfully and then continued to circle around his sides, making Porsche arch with a grunt "Oi!"

"What's wrong? Does it tickle?"

The words itself explained Kinn's plan with Porsche. He lowered his head with a whine now. "Don't do this to me, Kinn... I hate - Ah!"

He flinched when Kinn poked his ribs this time firm and tickly. Prosche gritted his teeth together, forcing the unpleasant sounds escaping from his throat.

Kinn raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you perhaps distressed, dear Porsche?"

"N-no! It -fuck j-just stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"Noho!" Porsche couldn't help giggle now when Kinn's hands were deliberately on his waist, his left side was weaker as his uncle had told in the past. Even Jom took advantage of that spot when they were sparring.

Kinn was picking it up fast and effectively and then pinched both sides of his waist individually. Upon the pinch on his right side, he jolted to the left, and then he tweaked the left, making Porsche shriek with another giggle.

"Oho did you just giggle?"

"Yohou hears wrohong!" But giggles spilt instantly to prove him false instead. Porsche was biting his lips now, too afraid to speak in case he let's out satisfying expressions for Kinn.

"Cute... honestly, better not let anyone know. Otherwise, you'll wish I was tickling you,"

"Better than yohohou!"

Kinn paused, now looking up to see Porsche's wrists bound above the headboard. He gently reached to crawl down at his inner wrists teasingly sliding down the arms, which made Porsche panic instantly "A-ah wait wait wahahait!"

"I'm not going anywhere... just riiiight down..." he dragged his words as his fingers tickled down his elbows, now slowing his pace tortoruosly at his biceps. Porsche regretted his doings... this punishment was something new and unexpected bit quite effective.

"PLEHEHEASE! KUHUHUHN!"

Porsche's begging surprised Kinn that he stopped but didn't pull back his fingers. He frowned now. "Did you, Porsche pitchaya, beg me and address me as sir?"

Kinn watched Porsche's ears glow red, now looking back embarrassedhe was speechless. Kinn dug into his armpits and Porsche quickly shrieked into cackles of bright bubbly laughter. It also surprised Kinn that he had a cute laugh worth listening too and it was infectious.

"NOHOHO NONONONO I AHAHAM SOHOHORRY KIHIHINN! IHIHI WOHOHOHONT BUHUHUG THE OTHEHEHERS!!!! SOHOHO STOHOHOP PLEAAAAASEEEE"

Loud, Kinn winced but then stopped as he smiled fondly, his hands resting on his hips, not tickling, but it still made Porsche giggle.

"How adorable... but I am serious..." he said now, "if anyone knew this, our family is doomed... they'll tickle the information out of you,"

Porsche flushed hard now, still panting. "Huh?? Noho way I'm thst weak! It's not... possible!"

Kinn kissed him briefly on the forehead. "Shall we tesr that love?"

Prosche, too engrossed with the kiss, hummed in agreement, but then after recalling back yo his request, he sqauked "fuck! No no no I didn't-Aaaaiii nooooo!"

He fell into another tremola of giggles when Kinn attacked his hips. Kinn could go easy on him next time... in case there will be a next?

Sigh, aren't they cute! How can u not tickle Porsche! He's a bratty adorable man!

Inspiration by actor Apo!

[the-sleepy-succubus]

Gosh Addy, aren't you the sweetest, cutest, prettiest puppy?? So eager to cum, so brainless with lust. You're doing such a good job entertaining us, darling <3

~ s1uttykitty

🥺 I just hit the hardest edge I've done in years I'm shaking violently I need tk cjm so bad. I'm glad yuor enjoying thr showeww ♡

[chaotictarlos]

Love me some tk's pov too something that makes me cry rivers under my blanket. PLEAAAAASEEE!!!!!

You want pain? Be careful what you wish for.... 👀👀👀

Warnings: angst, Carlos Whump, mentions of violence

“Carlos was shot in the line of duty. He’s in surgery, they’re not sure he’s going to make it.”

The phone almost falls from TK’s hand as Lexi’s words hit him. His hands start to shake, eyes clouding with tears and he almost stops listening but he needs to know the details so he can prepare himself to walk into the hospital.

It turns out there isn’t much more for Lexi to tell him. She gives him a brief rundown of what happened - a domestic violence situation, Carlos put himself in between the victim and her husband when things started to turn violent again -, the bullet hit Carlos below the ribcage - TK cursed Carlos for not wearing a bulletproof vest but of course, he hadn’t thought he would need it on patrol -, and that Carlos was in critical condition and had been rushed into surgery almost immediately upon getting to the hospital.

She tells him where they are, even though he could guess, and he hangs up the phone. On autopilot, TK grabs a few things before getting into his car and driving to the hospital. He doesn’t remember the drive, but he does remember the tight grip he had on the steering wheel and the white-hot panic that settles into his stomach, and doesn’t want to go away.

He parks his car and walks into the hospital, a pressure behind his eyes that he refuses to let spill out. He can’t allow himself to lose it right now. He can’t let himself cry and become a mess, not until he knows if the love of his life is going to survive.

Lexi pulls him into a hug as soon as she sees him.

“I’ve called his parents and a few of your friends. They’ll be here soon.” She says, and for that TK is grateful - he knows that he wouldn’t be able to make the calls himself.

He nods, “Any news?”

He’s surprised at how steady his voice is and how it doesn’t give away any of the turmoil that he’s feeling inside.

Lexi shakes her head, “No, they haven’t said anything since they took him back for surgery. It’s still early, they haven’t been working on him long. I’m sure he’ll be okay TK.”

TK nods, forcing himself to have hope.

Carlos had to be okay. They were only a week away from their wedding. TK couldn’t lose him now.

[carlos-in-glasses]

WIP Wednesday (Thursday)

Thank you for the tag @reyesstrand - sorry I'm late!

(Going to start posting this fic at the weekend!)

Three days after TK’s seventeenth birthday, the temperature in New York City drops to 22oF. The north east wind screams through the streets, violently shaking strings of Christmas lights and flinging horizontal razors of sleet into TK’s face. He skids along the sidewalk in his vintage Doc Martens, pulls his shearling-hooded parka tight around him.

TK will not know for almost a decade that he will get to live through winters in another place, where mostly the sun shines and air travels up from the south, where December means sweater weather and February already smells like spring.

On an ordinary freezing day after school, he’ll reach his apartment building and bound through the door, foregoing the elevator so he can run up the staircase and keep his circulation pumping, breathing into his hands and rubbing them together as he goes. He’ll glide into his apartment, into the warm, dump his schoolbag down by the door, unlace his boots and kick them off dramatically, and head into the kitchen where he squeezes cheese from a can directly into his mouth and follows it with a milky bowl of Cheerios. He can do whatever he wants until his mom gets home in the evening. He can start his homework, or boycott it. He can load up his PlayStation, or watch porn. He can brave sitting on the fire escape to smoke weed, or he can feel very classy and warm his bones with a brandy from his mom’s stash of spirits.

In a gut-punching, humiliating twist, this is not an ordinary day. He is staying overnight at his dad’s – which he hasn’t done for three weeks because of awkward shifts – and Owen is already at home.

Owen wasn’t supposed to be clocking off until 8 p.m, but he’s asked his deputy to cover for him because he needs to deal with his son. That’s how Owen worded it in his text to TK. “Just had a very difficult phone call with Vice Principal Woodsman. Johnny will cover the rest of my shift and I’ll deal with you when you get home.”

TK stops outside of Owen’s building. He stands in the freezing wind, battered by icy rain, and stares at the dark wood door and the metal railings that protect it. Being out here is better than going inside. He has cash in his pocket. He could sit in Starbucks for a couple of hours and read Heart of Darkness for his book report.

The thing is, TK is good. He messes up, but he’s good. He takes a painful breath and enters the building, rides the elevator up, squeezes his hands into fists to warm his numb fingertips.

Owen is sitting in his La-Z-Boy chair when TK plods in, because the chair has a direct eyeline to the door. TK wonders how long Owen has been waiting for him. He unlaces his boots slowly, uses his hands to guide his feet out of them, and he leaves them neatly on the hessian welcome mat to dry. He doesn’t dump his school bag, but rather keeps it on, wearing it like a heavy talisman as he walks in green dinosaur socks over to his disappointed father.

“So, they did a random locker search today, huh?” Owen says.

.............

I know we are beyond Wedneday but tagging @ladytessa74 @never-blooms and @heartstringsduet with no pressure at all of course ❤️

[dutyworn]

@parameddic said: 🤤 or ’paralyze’ // sender paralyzes receiver for torture. / uuuuuuh maybe not for torture but wren ft. being injected with paralytic/something and left to burn to death in a fire bc she’s been investigating too hard or. annoyed someone. idk. paralysed wren and tk going "where’s wren?" and marjan insISTIng on going back in to look for her and several of the team getting injured in an extraction effort and probably it’s overall owen’s fault somehow that this transpired (aggravating arsonists at random, dating murderers, etc). i have not thought very hard

VIOLENT RP PROMPTS    /    ACCEPTING ↷

It jolts her system with adrenaline, first (the pinprick of the dart, her body instantly reacting with the readiness to fight), but by the time Wren presses her hand to her neck, fumbling to pull the needle out, her body’s already harder to coordinate.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck... Someone shooting sedative darts at her? In no world does that mean anything good for her wellbeing.

She stumbles, hands shaking as she tries to get her phone out of her pocket. Can’t get a grip of it. Ends up on her hands and knees on the concrete floor. But her mind is alert. She... It’s not a sedative, it’s a fucking paralytic. That somehow scares her more. This isn’t like being caught in a stasis field, where she could still feel her muscles trying to fight against it, if she wanted to, even if movement was impossible. No, it’s rendering her helpless beyond that, where she can’t... can’t even feel like she’s struggling. Trying to will her body to move, to instinctively crawl towards the exit, a few feet is all she manages before she’s helpless, useless, on the floor, on her belly, head turned to the side, one arm positioned ahead in a still image of her desperate attempt to crawl out.

She should’ve been more careful. Shouldn’t have gone to investigate alone. But the arsons... Someone had to do something, people had died, and the lack of evidence... Fuck, what is this, a kidnapping? She did mention to Marjan she was thinking about poking around on her day off, but in a vague enough way as to not cause concern. Maybe, still... She’s not working today, but she hangs out on the station so often on her free days, maybe... maybe they’ll note that it’s odd she’s not around? And then realise where she must’ve gone. Fuck, if she could move. Do something. Leave something of hers behind, if she’s about to get grabbed. Leave them a lead.

There’s footsteps, after what feels like way too long a time. Gods, she hates not being able to defend herself. Can’t even turn her head to look...

But the footsteps... they stop briefly near her (every cell in her body screams for her to fight), then... walk by.

What the shit?

Why are they leaving her here? Is the paralytic supposed to kill her? She can breathe fine, though, for... for now, at least.

Then, the fast noise gasoline makes when it catches fire.

Now she panics; tries to cry out on instinct, but barely any sound comes out. The heat doesn’t reach her instantly, but the smoke quickly does, watering her eyes, yet she can’t even cough, can’t try to cover her airways.