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strokingtheego · 2 years ago

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A lot of people (including some QSMP members) are theorizing that the Eggs are evil or are being controlled by the Federation, but I disagree. Even if the Eggs are somehow acting as spies or agents of the Federation, I don't think it's willing and I don't think they know it. Why?

Because of Chayanne.

moti_otp on Twitter made a thread that compiled ALL of Chayanne and Richarlyson's signs from their conversation today (May 8th). Here's the transcript:

Richarlyson: How are you Chayanne? Chayanne: I'M OKAY Richarlyson and you? Richarlyson: I am great!! Happy to meet you but I am concerned about my dad's plans. Chayanne: I'll ask you some questions is that ok? Richarlyson: Sure :D Chayanne: What are your dad's plans? Richarlyson: They plan on building the biggest favela in the server :D

Starts innocently enough, right? Chayanne knows Forever is one of Richarlyson's dads, and he knows Forever is interested (a little too interested) in Phil, so it's normal that he wants more information.

But then it takes a turn.

Chayanne: Where do you come from? [No response is given]

Chayanne: How many people do you know on this island? Richarlyson: Uncle Fit, Roier, and Foolish Bobby and Leo and now you

Chayanne: Do you want to hurt anyone? Richarlyson: Just bulls they broke my egg rights [Context: they lost their first life to a bull]

Chayanne: Why I never saw you before? Richarlyson: There was not enough Brazilian aura (the ship was late bc don't know how to drive boats)

Chayanne: How long have you been here? [No response is given]

There are a few things we need to keep in mind here: Richardlyson isn't one of the original eggs. Like Tallulah, he conveniently happened to show up right when a new Egg was needed... but his appearance was a little too convenient.

Chayanne: give me 3 reasons why I should trust you Richarlyson: I have style :D

Chayanne: Should I keep an eye on your dad? Did someone else arrive with you? Or are you alone? Richarlyson: I… maybe!! But if he gets mad he would probably try to take down any mountain nearby he is dangerous for the nature

Unlike some of the other Eggs on the server who (canonically) only know a little bit about what's going on (either through osmosis, overhearing things, or getting information directly from their parents), Chayanne knows more about what's going on on the Island than most for one simple reason: Phil trusts him.

Any information Phil learns, he tells Chayanne. At first I was a little worried, but as time goes on, it seems more and more like Phil had the right idea. He wants Chayanne to be careful and be prepared for the worst, especially since Chayanne only has 1 life left ("Living Hardcore mode"), and Chayanne has taken this to heart.

A lot's going on right now and everyone's a little big suspicious, but I think Chayanne has proven where his loyalties lie.

Bonus:

Chayanne: Why does your dad wants to date my dad? Richarlyson: I think… 2 things 1. He's a bit*h 2. He is crazy

Chayanne: My dad is happy married to my dad Missa thank you Richarlyson: He is cheating.

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strokingtheego · 4 years ago

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No Skirting Around

Pairing: Logic|Logan/Morality|Patton. NSFS, Minors DNI

"It really isn't like Patton to skip out on movie night," Roman picked at the chocolate on his popcorn, inspecting it almost suspiciously, as though it might be the most recent victim of a certain, crasser part of Creativity. (He'd be wrong. All Remus had done was let it sit open on the counter, and now half the kernels under the surface had the consistency of day-old jerky.)

"Usually he's the one to be all about treasuring family bonding time, if we could opt out from the beginning, I would have! Not to slander the collection of titles, but one's evenings might be better put to use planning the world's next great musical."

Virgil bit back a cough-laugh. "Your 'What's In A Name', right, I can see the headlines now." His own popcorn had been left mostly alone, but the feeling of the bag felt a little off. "Well, he did make sure we all got our 'Popcorn from Pops', so he probably still wants us to go, even if he can't."

"And the passion for a healthy, well-oiled dynamic between all of us truly admirable, it is- but I would much rather continue moving my works in progress into the works of art category."

Virgil squeezed his bag a little tighter. "He's.. working through his own thing, remember? And with everything going on, he deserves a night off to process, at least."

By the time they reached the living room, onesie-d and cast in the bright orange opening of The Sixth Sense, Roman was quiet.

Virgil popped a kernel into his mouth.

"...there's hidden marshmallows in mine."

A loud, distraught gasp from the prince ("Share?") as they settled into the couch, but not before peering curiously over at the blanketed mass of fabric that spilled onto the floor.

"Love the skirt, Mindmeister."

____________________________

Logan was going to die. Tap, tap, over his parted knees, the feeling of soft curls over his thighs. Quiet, now. Only the trained instinct of keeping a straight face through difficult interactions could keep him from jolting out of his seat at just the feeling of fingers stroking circles under his thighs, creeping up over the softer fabric over his waist. They weren't even through the first few scenes, they hadn't even started- Logan was glad the room was dark, or he'd be scarlet, despite his best efforts. Why did he ever agree to this. It was completely unnecessary, if it was for this reason that Patton wanted to be exempt from the movie screening, then he might as well have stayed in his room as well, waited for him there, and whatever happens would really be no one else's business but their own. There was no reason for him to come out at his request, in a floor-length skirt, thighs spread expectantly in the dark of the living room. He could leave, at any time, right now, if he really wanted to.

But you don't want to, those infuriating fingers seemed to coo, trailing warmth over his ankles. Do you, baby? Logan waved the memory of that word away almost frantically, definitely burning up now, at the recollection of the first time the metaphorical heart had murmured it into his throat, and all the other, just as humiliating moments involving- that.

Different problem, instantly, because now the hands had changed course, pushing the folds of cloth higher, over his knees, and all Logan could remember was a breath against his ear, careful instructions and warmth over his throat and he couldn't move, as the skirt lifted high on his bare hips, hands admiring the test of obedience with every gentle squeeze to his ass. Flying colours. Good boy, Logan. They moved, back down to his knees and Logan exhaled, the odd bit of pride joining the heart hammering in his chest, trying to focus on the movie, on Virgil fighting Roman for his marshmallows back, on anything else besides the warm weight of arms over his lap, the feeling of fingers gliding close, much too close to the inside of his thighs and he set the popcorn he'd been crushing silently between his hands down as he took a breath. He choked.

Patton pumped his cock again, seemingly delighted, as the heavy fall of his hands against the couch turned into a vice grip on the cushions. The stroke that followed was thankfully slower, thumb kneading under the head, careful pumps up and down, with one hand on his hips and he took it, eyes shut and shivering, trying, in vain, to bring air back to his lungs. The movement stopped, resting instead at the base of his now unmistakable need, a bittersweet kind of reprieve. Or so he thought, because the warm wet of a laughing mouth pressed to the tip and parted-

"Logan? You good, bud?"

The two other sides in the room were looking right at him, Virgil with concern, Roman with squirrel-cheeked curiosity. Haley Joel was crying onscreen. The room felt like a tangible space, finally, for the first time since he stepped into it.

Patton wasn't as forgiving. Another, long lick upward had him shift, shrug noncommittally at the other two as the warmth sucked gently around the head. Logan was fairly sure he wasn't surviving the night with his dignity intact.

"Hm? Oh, I'm- fine. Why wouldn't I be?" That should not have sounded as breathless as it had.

"We-ell, for one-" Roman had somehow swallowed all the marshmallows back to gesture grandly around the room- don't take that idea- fuck, f uck- the imagined cotton was beginning to tear under his nails. He could feel the shoulders shaking from underneath the blanket. "-you've been giving Bruce Willis bedroom eyes since the movie began, which- I don't blame you for, but-"

"If you're tired," Virgil cut in, maybe a little too forcefully, but ultimately ignored the look Roman shot him to turn back, "You should go to bed. Patton's not here either, I'm sure he'll understand if you need a break."

Oh, he's here, he bit back, if only out of frustration as Patton gripped his hips, swallowing him down and Logan felt a little like crying himself, squashing down moans before they could rise and he shook his head, forcing himself to pop a few kernels into his own mouth.

"No. I'll be okay."

"Are you sure."

"Of course. I apologize for worrying you two."

Roman snickered, "Oh, I wasn't-" Virgil shoved a marshmallow though his teeth.

"Okay. Don't push yourself."

After what felt like hours, Virgil turned away, and the shuddering gasp that followed was more than a little embarrassing. Still, the relief coursed through his chest, even as laughter ran vibrations over his hips, into his spine and the mouth moved from the twitch of his dick to kiss teasingly over his hips. I'm sorry, I had to. Logan didn't particularly feel like dignifying that with an answer. The lips nudged apologetically just under his navel, planting kisses over his thighs before they disappeared completely, the imprint of them still warm and Logan was allowed to breathe, release the tension in his shoulders, let his chest rise a little higher as his eyes closed, at least for a minute.

A click of a bottle shut.

The shock of the realization came before the shock of a slick forefinger pressing into him, a hand raising his knee over a shoulder, a high noise of instinctual delight rising in his throat. Logan could not have clamped that hand over his mouth quicker.

Pat- Patto-n! The heart didn't respond, pushing a second finger further in, spiraling leisurely into that one, tiny spot of vulnerability and it was all Logan could do not to just splay out then and there, hot breath fogging his glasses as he ground his heels into the carpet.

"Patto-nn-" came the urgent whisper, barely audible over the gasp that shoved past it. "This- this is not what was discussed-"

Patton shut him up with a hard suck to the head, ecstatic with mischief as he stroked that spot inside him with incredible dexterity, kissing idly down the underside as Logan peeled the blanket back in desperation, just enough to watch bright blue flicker open.

Patton looked starved.

His glasses were askew, curls pushed back from his face and precome shone on his bottom lip like the world's crudest form of gloss, mouth red and parted in a laugh that once was welcoming, trustworthy, not at all as predatory, dark and consuming. The blue in those eyes burned- and Logan was frozen.

Morality nudged his nose into the neatly trimmed nest at the base of him, and Logan watched him inhale, dragging utterly indecent lips back up to the head.

Quiet, Logan. You promised.

The fingers curled in deep, pulsed white-hot to his toes, the tight warmth of a mouth engulfing him to the hilt, and the cushion ripped as Logan convulsed.

Call my name, Lo.

Patton hadn't pulled the blanket down all the way, just under his eyes and Logan watched the silhouette of a soft mouth drink him down, rocking a third finger into him as the bottle clicked shut. His hips shook, knuckles white against the couch as he gripped the tartan and his knees had long since gelatinized, whimper after whine punching out of his throat as the pace picked up on his prostate.

Patton-

His back had arched off the couch at this point, wracked with exhaustion, eyes lidded behind his glasses and his mind had gone blank, unsure if he was watching Virgil and Roman squabble over caramel or Bruce Willis playing with soldiers or the bob of Morality's throat as come dribbled past his chin.

Pat- Patton-

Shaking. He can't stop shaking. His arms were numb, The slow, purposeful torture continued, urging every muffled noise out of him as flashes sparked behind his eyes and how many minutes were left- seconds till it was over-

P a t t o n-

The credits. Virgil- Roman- they were packing up. Virgil was saying something he didn't hear, and Logan could hardly care whether or not what he had replied was a coherent thought or not. The living room was dark.

The fingers found his face, warm, comforting, "There's my baby."

My good boy. You did so well, Logan.

Please. The only word he could think, to beg and part of him didn't even really know what he was begging for- "Pat- Patton please-"

Hands tore the blanket off his lap, rending the seams of the skirt along with it, a darkened silhouette of want and gleaming blue leaning over his spent, shaking form, and whatever was left of his conscious mind left him about the same time Patton took him by the thighs and fucked all the way in.

Logan had always stood a good few inches over Patton. Now, watching the embodiment of the human heart loom over him, he thinks, maybe this is how it was always meant to be.

The couch slammed back into the wall.

"Fuck-!"

Patton- Patton Patton Patton-

The mouth met him halfway, kissing his cries away, calm and sweet and almost everything he could ask for.

Fuck me like you promised.

You promised, Pat.

Patton shoved his legs apart.

The pace was unrelenting, Logan spread the width of the couch and still keening, gasping, grasping for anything that might anchor him to the present as his entire system struggled to keep up, garbled fuck-blissed noise and soft, murmuring words that shot shivers through his nervous system as Patton nailed him deeper and deeper into the back of the seat and so good, so good for me, Lo, you did such a good job-

"Ple-pl-ease-! Ff-fuck-"

Yes God harder yes-

Down- onto the seat itself, knees to ears and the shirt was unsummoned- neither of them had the particular state of mind to take it off in any way calmly and the sound that tore from his throat could barely be human, Morality jackhammering down into that tight, desperate spot with a laugh just as breathless and Logan screamed- streaks painting as high as his shoulder and clawing- begging- splotches of white under his eyelids blinking in and out of focus and all he could see was blue-

"P-Pa-ah! Pat'n- Pa-"

Beg, Lo.

"Ple-ple-eease-ples-"

Hot. Hot- Hot- liquid heat washed down below his spine- Morality had his thighs trapped behind him- fucking in so deep he choked from the sheer feeling of being full and Logan could care less what position they were in now, sinking on and off with every harsh slap of skin against his thigh and hands, over the damp of his chest as slick and come dripped down his taint and balls.

"Pleas-e, pl-pl-uhn-"

"Louder."

"Please! Patton-"

His back hit the cushions and Logan keened, whining at the sudden emptiness before hands hauled his hips up- and the cock thrust into him so hard his forearms smacked into the armrest, stars blinding him a good split second as Patton gasped into his ear and he shook violently- God, he could feel everything, feel Patton shudder as heat welled rapidly in his lower belly and the dry orgasm rocked him against the form above him, had him claw at the tartan as his spine snapped rigid against Morality's slow pace in, legs kicking out involuntarily, voice fuck-blissed and broken and warm-

A warm pair of lips, by the time his consciousness drifted back into him, pressed carefully to his forehead. The world spun, blurred- and settled on the smiling face inches from him, freckled and waiting, concern lining the tired slant of bright blue eyes. They were still on the couch, from what he could gather, long past their set sleep schedule, sticky and sated and the world should be coming back into focus by now.

"I'm sorry I broke your glasses."

Ah. Logan exhaled carefully, chest still slightly strained from holding everything in.

"You have also torn one of my better skirts."

Patton shrugged, the beginnings of a familiar grin tugging at the corners of his mouth and Logan shut his eyes, headache welling, "Well, you know I'm not the type to skirt around the main point."

Breathe, Logan, breathe.

"You were okay the whole time, though, right?"

Third post-coital sigh of the night. "Of course. I would have told you if I ran into any trouble."

"Did you?"

Bright blue watched him from his shoulder, slightly unfocused, quiet as he waited before he managed a grin as Logan shifted to face him, brows furrowed in gentle reminder.

"Of course not. You were wonderful, Patton."

The smile faltered, and for a moment Logan thought he'd said the wrong thing, before it curved into something much more genuine, eyes crinkling at the corners, into the familiar laugh lines as warmth crept slowly into speckled skin and Logan's stomach flipped several times in that instant.

"I'm pleats-ed to hear that."

"You're reaching."

"For the skirt?"

"Zip it."

"I can't- the skirt's torn."

Fourth. Fourth post-coital sigh of the night.

"We should probably take this somewhere with more curtains, though."

"Because there are more drapes there, I got it-"

"Because I'm not done fucking you into every surface I can find, that's right."

Logan's mouth was suddenly dry.

"Okay."

In the farther reaches of the imagination, Roman gingerly lifted the pillow off his head from where he'd tried to bury himself face first into his mattress.

"Are-? Are they done? Please tell me they're done? Please tell me they've realized we can also hear their telepathic messages?"

Virgil, at the foot of the bed, refused to remove the pillows duct taped over his headphones, turned up to max volume.

Oh- h f-!

Back into the burying hole, we go, and Roman didn't hear Virgil scream.

#not safe for sanders #nsfs logicality #nsfs logan sanders #nsfs patton sanders

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