#ENGRO

[lindonwald]

you know I love a london boy…..?? (insp)

[zeproc]

Kjøp arbeidsklær, regnfrakker, anorakker, arbeidsfrakker, bukser, jakker, kjeledresser, luer, ermer, forklær, dungaree, vanntett, vindskjerm, kuldebeskyttelse, arbeidsklær i Oslo, Tromsø, Lofoten, Nordland, Bergen, Stavanger, Norge Arbeidsklær i engros-kvanta — Zeproc Marketplace

[queensunshinee]

His favorite toy || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+) Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex, fingering), drinking, super toxic relationship, reader is kinda pathetic :(

Word Count: 3.4k

His favorit toy

Sometimes I think he was born to be in love with her, just like I was born to be in love with him. Unconditionally, without consequences. Just like that, love. And it’s not fair that someone can take so much from you and give back so little. It’s not fair that someone can control your entire range of emotions and yet not be affected by them. It’s not fair that Art Donaldson was born to revolve around Tashi Duncan while I was born for the leftovers he allows himself to leave for me.

“You can stay,” I mumbled as he started getting dressed. “I wish I could, I’ve got morning practice tomorrow,” he said without looking at me. ‘That didn’t stop you from coming inside me,’ I wanted to retort but just nodded and turned my back to him. He stopped dressing for a moment, and I knew he was looking at me, wondering if this time would be the time I’d stop letting him emotionally abuse me. Wondering if this would be the time I’d tell him that if he didn’t stay, he could go find someone else to fuck.

“Baby, I’d love to stay,” he sat at the edge of the bed and gave my shoulder a little shake. “It’s not a big deal, Art. You’re a big boy, you can do whatever you want,” I mumbled toward him. And it sounded petty and bitter. But I felt petty and bitter. I could feel the bitterness on the tip of my tongue. I could feel the sag of the crappy dorm bed swallowing me up. “I want to stay, of course I do,” his voice was fake. Like he was talking to a baby who didn’t understand circumstances or an adult’s schedule. “You know I want to,” he continued, this time planting a small kiss on the shoulder he had shaken earlier.

“When someone wants something, they do it. You wanted to fuck me, you fucked me. You wanted to come inside me, you came. You want to leave, you’re leaving. Just don’t excuse it with morning practice, you’re making me feel like an idiot,” I mumbled. He was silent, not expecting that little monologue. Not expecting that I’d finally tell him he’s acting like an asshole. “I don’t think I’m making you feel that way, you’re making yourself feel that way,” he sighed and stood up, going back to getting dressed while I lay on my back. “Are you serious?” I shot back.

“We don’t have to do this, I’m not forcing you to sleep with me, and if it’s making you feel this bad, we really don’t need to.” He said in a calm, almost calculated tone. Clear of emotions. I rolled my eyes in response and turned away again, not wanting to look at him anymore. “I’m gonna go, I’ll see you tomorrow in class?” he asked, and I felt his lips brush against my hair before he left. And if it weren’t for his smell buried in the pillow and his cum still dripping from me with every movement, I would’ve been sure I imagined him. And in my imagination, he was beautiful and sweet and mine. More than anything, mine.

In statistics class, for a change, I sat next to Janet and Shane, and I could feel Art’s blue eyes boring into my back. Usually, I wait for him with coffee at the back of the auditorium. That’s how we met—he was late to class one day, and the only open seat was next to me. He was funny and charming, almost shy when he asked for notes before the first exam. Almost embarrassed the first time I placed a cup of coffee on his desk when he arrived. Almost apologetic the first time he kissed me.

And for a change, I didn’t waste extra money I don’t even have to buy him a cup of coffee. For a change, I sat with friends I hadn’t spoken to in a while. And for a change, I let him wonder if it was over or if I was bluffing. His eyes were glued to me the whole lecture—neither of us was listening to what the professor was saying, and I know it’s going to come back to bite me.

“Are you going to be mad at me for much longer?” I heard a voice from behind me as I walked down the hall, engrossed in my phone. “I’m not mad at you, Art,” I mumbled without stopping. His strides were longer than mine, and he didn’t have to try too hard to catch up. “So why’d you switch seats?” I could guess he was rolling his eyes, but I didn’t look at him. “Because I wanted to sit with Janet and Shane,” I replied. “Since when are you friends with Janet and Shane?” he asked. “If you ever bothered to ask who my friends are, you’d know I’m friends with Janet and Shane,” I stopped this time and looked at him. He looked composed, like a lawyer who had prepared his most persuasive argument.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting? I had practice at five in the morning, Peaches.” He sighed, looking at me with big eyes. “I can’t believe we’re arguing over this. We never argue.” He stepped closer to me, and I backed away until there was nowhere left to go. Around us, students rushed to their classes or dorms while I was trapped between Art Donaldson and a concrete wall. “We’re not arguing, Art. I just needed a break,” I replied, feeling less sure of myself as his breaths nearly blended with mine. “A break from what?” his hands brushed against my cheeks. “You know what,” I wondered if he could hear the desperation screaming in my voice too. “Baby,” he sighed. “You don’t need a break. It’s just a busy period.” He kissed me on the cheek. “You can’t keep being mad at me, come on, Peaches,” he said in a playful tone. “Look how cute I am.” He chuckled and nibbled on my earlobe.

“We’re in the middle of the hallway,” I mumbled, feeling myself smile uncontrollably, giving in to his goofiness. “I don’t care. You can’t stay mad at me anymore.” This time we both chuckled. “Here we go,” he continued, and his lips found mine for a short kiss. “I need you,” he declared, and I nodded into his shirt. He needs me, how could I refuse that?

Turns out, it was easier than I thought to take a break from Art Donaldson. All that mattered to him and his ego was knowing that I wasn’t actively mad at him. That he wasn’t the bad guy in the story. That he was okay.

In the following two weeks, I kept sitting next to him in statistics until he found another seat and texted me a simple, 'Haven’t seen Dylan in a while' as an excuse, and I smiled at him without showing my teeth. From being inside me three times a week and whispering in my ear that I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever known, he stopped looking me in the eyes and acted as if we barely knew each other.

And it was almost okay, because that’s what I told him I wanted. He was the one who insisted he needed me.

A month passed, and life returned to an almost-normal routine—going from classes to work, to hanging out on Janet’s rooftop. “You know what annoys me?” I asked, taking a drag from the cigarette rolled with weed she’d prepared. “What annoys you?” she asked, chuckling. “That he looks so damn good.” I said, and her chuckle turned into full laughter. “Oh, yeah, the star of Stanford’s tennis team looks good; that’s usually how it goes with athletes,” she said, half-sarcastically. “I’m telling you, if he didn’t look so good, he wouldn’t have been able to pull off half the shit he put me through,” I added and coughed after another drag. “Oh god, you need a new hookup. I can’t hear any more about Art Donaldson.” Janet couldn’t stop laughing. “Do you think the sky is green?” she suddenly asked, staring at the clouds. “No, I think you’ve smoked too much green,” I gave her a little shove that knocked her sideways as we both laughed.

That’s how we found ourselves at a party later that night. We didn’t exactly know whose party it was, but a friend of a friend texted Janet, and that was enough to go. She fixed the makeup that had smudged around my eyes just before we walked in. I was wearing her black dress, which was at least one size too small for me, and I had to keep pulling it down every few seconds. “Stop it, you look hot. You’re just overthinking it. Go with the flow.” She pulled me inside, and I nodded as we walked. Just go with the flow. What could happen if I just go with the flow?

One beer turned into two and a shot of gin. By that point, half the night felt like a blur, and the other half felt dizzying, but I was dancing with Janet and Shane, who had joined us, and eventually, I went outside to smoke a cigarette and get some air.

Someone handed me a cup, and I looked to the side, seeing Art. “It’s water,” he mumbled. “Thanks,” I replied. “Are you having fun?” he asked, his gaze not leaving me. “Yeah, you?” I asked back. “Yeah,” his voice was calm, “You usually don’t like things like this,” he said after a few seconds of silence. “What’s your point?” I asked, feeling my patience wearing thin with the weird small talk. “What are you doing here, I guess?” he asked quietly. “I can go to a fucking party, Art,” I felt my jaw clench with frustration. “I didn’t say you couldn’t—” “So what are you saying?” I cut him off.

“I just said I’m not used to seeing you at parties, that’s all,” he muttered.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. Are you coming inside? Who’s this?” Tashi Duncan’s voice was as familiar as her face. She hosted Stanford’s sports program, which they probably forced her to do. Her and Art’s posters were plastered everywhere. “Oh, this is (Y/N), she’s in my statistics class,” Art said quickly, and Tashi nodded. “Nice, is he any good at it?” she asked, half-joking, like someone who's trying to break the ice in a situation she’d stumbled into. “No, he’s shitty. My friends are waiting for me, thanks for the water,” I replied and went back inside without looking back, wondering if this is what it feels like when your heart breaks. If from now on, every time I see Art Donaldson, it’ll shatter a little more.

I sat on the couch, as Shane had told me to, when someone sat next to me. I turned slowly because I couldn’t manage more than that. “Hey,” he had green eyes and blond hair, “I’m Luke,” he offered a hand for a handshake. “We had Intro to Economics together last semester,” he added with a smile. “Oh,” was all I could manage to say back. “We’re also in a few classes together now. You sit one row below me in Micro,” he continued, and I just stared at the guy talking to me.

“Did we talk before?” I asked. “Sorry if that’s rude, I’m just drunk,” I quickly added, hoping he wouldn’t be offended. I was just trying to recall my interactions with people, and I didn’t remember him. He looked good enough that I should’ve remembered him. “Actually, no. You always seem in your own world, and I didn’t want to interrupt,” he said, still smiling. “I see,” I said. “Actually, no. What do you mean, in my own world? I’m right here in your world, you know,” I kept talking faster than I probably should. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re just usually either with friends or scribbling something,” I saw he got nervous.

“Well,” I tried to remember his name, “Luke, you can always talk to me. I’m usually bored in those classes anyway,” I laughed, and he laughed too, clearly feeling relieved. “Can I get your number?” he asked. “Just in case we make plans or something,” he quickly added when he saw the surprised look on my face. I handed him my phone, and I couldn’t tell if the warmth spreading through my cheeks was from the alcohol or the situation. “You have a message from Art Donaldson,” he said, handing my phone back after adding his number. And just like that, the momentary euphoria ended. Art had to remind me at every possible moment that he existed.

If there’s something Art hates, it’s being ignored. Being left on ‘read.’ I guess that’s why he knocked on my door at 3 AM, incredibly drunk. “Your dress is so pretty,” he mumbled, reciting the message he sent me earlier at the party. “Art, it’s really late—” “He’s flirting with you because your dress is pretty,” he recited the next message. I memorized them so well that I could recite them along with him. “Because you’re pretty,” he continued to the next message. “I’m sorry I introduced you like that, I panicked,” the next message. “You’re not just someone who studies statistics with me,” another message. “Art—” I tried to interrupt the show in front of me. “I really am shitty,” he continued. “Are you done?” I asked, even though I knew the answer, that was the last message he sent.

“Did you lose your phone or something, Peaches?” he asked, half-laughing, half-sarcastic. “You’re drunk,” I sighed. “You didn’t answer me. I thought something happened,” he mumbled. “Liar,” I rolled my eyes. “You’re right, I knew nothing happened. I thought you were fucking that new guy you found,” he shot back. “Wow, Art, you think amazing things about me. You really know me well,” I returned sarcastically. “Anything else?” I asked, ignoring the fact that he was getting closer to me with giant steps. “I missed you, Peach,” he mumbled, his breath, which smelled like his usual gum and beer, mixing with mine again.

“So why did you disappear on me?” I asked. And it came out more desperate than I planned. More pathetic than I expected. I could imagine the smirk spreading on his smug face as I closed my eyes. “You asked for a break. I just gave you what you asked for. I couldn’t hold back today though, you were so beautiful, Peach. The most beautiful at that shitty party. So, the break’s over, okay?” he said, and in his drunk mind, it was probably a logical sentence. His lips brushed against mine, and finally, he kissed me like a starving man who stumbled upon his favorite meal. He had never kissed me like this. He was always gentle in his movements, calculated in every shift.

Not this time. His hands brushed over every part of my body they could reach, I don’t know how I found myself without the shirt I was sleeping in, but I stood in front of him only in my underwear, and he took a step back, looking at me in the dark, as if he was an expert in night vision. As if he was trying to capture me in his memory. “You’re drunk,” I said again. “Not even close,” he replied. “Please, Peach. I’ll be good. I need you,” his kisses went down to my neck, and he led me to the bed. Everything was sloppy and messy, but I found myself under him in seconds, with him also already without a shirt.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. And that was the usual mantra, he says all the right words and touches all the right places. He knows what makes me tick. He knows what gives me chills and which position I like best. I felt tears forming in the corners of my eyes, as if waiting for me to blink. Then his lips covered them, gently, and if someone had seen the scene from the side, they might dare to think it was love. “Fuck, baby, I’ll make you happy. You want that? You want me?” he asked, pulling away from me for a second and looking at me with half-plea, in almost mania.

“Yes, Art,” I said quietly. “Yes, what?” he asked with his typical determination. “Yes, I want you,” I returned, running a gentle hand over his face, and he repositioned himself over me. “That’s my girl,” he groaned. “I missed you so much. How needy you are. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll help you. I’ll give you what you need,” his hand pinched my left nipple, and I felt like he was punishing me for the last month. “Mmm Art,” it came out as half-whimper, half-cry. “Shhhh, you can take it, right? You missed this?” he asked, and I nodded. “Of course you can, a slut like you, a month without her favorite cock, my poor thing. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he said, and I felt his hand, the one not torturing my chest, settle between my legs. “Art,” another half-moan, half-whimper.

“Fuck, Peach, you’re so wet,” he chuckled nastily and pushed my panties aside, not waiting too long before he slipped two fingers where I needed him. “Oh my god,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. “No no, look at me. Eyes on me.” He bit my neck and pinched my chest harder. I felt my whole body tighten, and I tried to keep quiet so as not to wake the entire dorm hall. “You’re so easy, Peach,” he said while I clenched around his hand. “Uh-huh, fuck, Art,” I tried to catch his mouth with mine in a half-movement, and he moved his face away with a chuckle, as if trying to prove how pathetic I was now. “Please,” I mumbled. “Please what?” he asked, again close to my face. “Please, kiss me,” I gave in, unable to act like a woman who respects herself. Within seconds, his lips were on mine, and his cock was inside me, filling me. “There you go,” he mumbled into my lips, stroking my hair with one hand and holding my hand with the other. The sad truth is, we’ve never fucked like this. It’s always in the most complicated positions you can think of, never missionary, never in a way that would confuse me into thinking that maybe Art Donaldson loves me.

“You’re so good, baby,” he said, thrusting as deep as he could. Slowly. As if he had all the time in the world. “I missed you. It was like losing a limb, losing your pussy,” another deep thrust. “But you’re mine again, right?” he asked, and all I could do was nod while his hand left mine and started making circles on my clit. His rhythm became chaotic, and he looked at me with a look that told me he was close. “I know, baby,” I mumbled, holding onto his neck, and he nodded. “I think I love you,” he mumbled into my lips with closed eyes. “I love you too,” I whispered. His cum filled me, just like every time since the first time he came inside me.

He kissed me again and stayed inside me for a few more seconds, his weight almost crushing me before he pulled out of me and moved to the side, placing my head on his chest, trying to find a comfortable position on the awful dorm bed. We both panted heavily as his hand made small movements through my hair. “I’ll get you something to clean up…” he mumbled, and I nodded, a bit stunned. Because that wasn’t a typical Art move. He never thought about it deeply enough. He threw a shirt he picked up from the floor at me and studied me for a moment as he started getting dressed.

“You’re not staying?” I asked and sighed. “I can’t, I have practice in the morning,” he replied. And just when I thought something had changed, Art and I stayed exactly the same.

Hey there guys, it's been a while since I wrote anything and as much as I love TTOOL, and I love the story deeply, I wanted to explore a new concept. It's the first time I have written in a xreader style, so I hope it turned out OK. Can't wait to hear your thoughts, it's my favorite part 💜

Using the taglist from the main story, hopefully you'll like that too: @lydiaxkirby @suzysface tqd4455 @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[thrillered]

'You Know I Mountain Dew It For Ya" | Spencer Agnewx F!Reader | Pt. 3: You blew up.

I hope you guys like this part! I struck inspiration.

-

-

-

-

You chose to ignore your phone the next morning, putting on do not disturb and opting to put on a record while you got ready and popping in a CD on the way to work. You walked into the office, putting on a smile as you greeted people on your way to the kitchen to get a coffee.

 Normally you were one of the first people in the office, making a large pot of coffee so that it was hot and ready for your coworkers. Today, however, you didn’t have a morning meeting or shoot block so you didn’t have to come in until 11. It was a little ritual you had begun the year prior. On days where you didn’t have to be in early you would stay offline until absolutely needed. It was a welcome break from your constant social presence. 

Your morning had been so peaceful, little did you know that online, things were very different. Your song blew up on both tiktok and twitter. You had amassed more than 500,000 streams just the first night. 

You were walking to your desk, iced coffee in hand when someone grabbed it from your hand, placing it on the nearest surface. Before you could blink you were swinging around, being lifted by strong arms, in a suffocating hug, a squeal escaping your lips. You recognized who it was almost instantaneously, the familiar scent of amber and citrus embracing you.

“Well good morning to you too” You laughed to Spencer as he set you down. 

“Good morning? Just good? It’s a fantastic morning! Nay! A Stupendous morning!”

“Okay wow, this is some positivity,” You laughed, “What’s got you so bright eyed and bushy tailed?”

“Are you absolutely serious Y/N?” He raised his eyebrows so high you could imagine them flying right off his forehead. “Have you not looked at literally anything this morning?” 

“No, I never do on late mornings, you know that Spence.” 

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” He began, pulling out his phone, “Look at this Y/N, this is insane.” 

You looked at his screen, becoming suddenly dizzy at the words in front of you. 567 thousand streams of Espresso. You stared, swallowing thickly before emitting a loud “What the fuck?!” 

“You’re also trending on twitter and tiktok!” Spencer continued, your mind still not believing the number you had read. “Dude, you might have been famous for smosh but.. Now you're just famous, like really famous.” 

It was like the most intense high of your life. You had never had a song blow up like this, god, you had never had a song do even a 10th as good as this. You were sitting on cloud nine, this is what nirvana must feel like you thought. 

Then your stomach sank. If there were maybe 100 comments about Spencer last night, there had to be thousands now… 

You may have fucked up. On one hand your music career might take off like you’ve always dreamed! On the other hand you’re gonna have to discuss this with Spencer and that means confronting your own feelings which is not ideal.

“I need to use the bathroom.” You muttered before running off to the single bathroom, leaving Spencer more confused than he’s ever been, and that’s saying something.

 Shutting and locking the door behind you, you took a long deep breath. You leaned against the door and unlocked your phone, turning off the do not disturb to a bombardment of notifications. Friends, family, fans, everyone was texting, tagging, and tweeting you. You were overjoyed at the love your song was receiving. People were tagging you in the most loving reviews and giving the highest appreciation for the song. 

You were just scrolling, reading tweet after tweet in the “Espresso” and “Y/N from Smosh” Tag. you retweeted a post from a smosh fan account saying “I know Y/N from smosh. You know Y/N from Espresso… we are not the same”. You laughed before switching to tik tok and going through some of your notifications. You would never be able to see every video, there were just too many. You were totally engrossed, the real world fading away. Until a loud knock startled you out of your trance.

“Y/N I don’t know if you're having a crisis or what but I need to pee and you have a shoot.” Amanda’s voice yelled through the door. 

You unlocked and opened the door, seeing that half an hour had gone by. “I am so sorry Amanda, I don’t know how I spent so much time in there.” You laughed.

“You’re good honey,” She laughed, walking past you into the bathroom, “Oh and huge congrats on the song, that’s really cool, we’re all really proud of you.” 

You gave her a sweet smile before rushing to the sound stage. You were doing an episode of reddit stories with Shayne and Spencer, this week's theme was missing, it featured stories about missed connections, missed chances, and missed hints. 

“You okay?” Shayne asked as you walked into the set, heading over to get your mic. 

“Yeah of course, just got a little overwhelmed is all.” you smiled. 

“I can understand that, there’s a lot of attention on you right now, but it looks like a lot of love so that’s good,” He began, soothing your nerves, “Plus right now you get to hear about some idiots with your two favorite idiots.” he laughed. 

“Yeah, you're right, thank you Shayne.” You laughed with him.

“We’re all really proud of you though Y/N” Shayne finished, pulling you into a comforting hug. “Alright let’s get this shit going.” 

The stories were crazy, as always. Though, it was almost hard to focus on what Shayne was saying with Spencer so close. Your realization that you would have to confront your own feelings made it feel almost suffocating to be so close but so casual with him. You thought that if you got too close he would be able to feel your heartbeat or read your mind. You focused on channeling your professionalism and got through the video smoothly, you just hoped it didn’t look weird on camera. 

–

You kind of wanted to avoid Spencer. Your feelings were weird and they were strong, you weren’t sure what to do. Unfortunately you were supposed to be doing a livestream for the games channel at 3 pm and Spencer would, of course, be there. You and Courtney were supposed to play the Sims4. You were gonna be making your sim and dressing her before adding her to the smosh save. 

You and Courtney were sitting at the desk, chatting as you fixed your hair while waiting for the stream to start. Focused on your conversation with Court about how excited she was to show you the sim she had made of you, you hadn’t noticed the chat on the ‘stream starting soon’ screen. 

Everyone was talking about Espresso. Talking about how good it is, how it’s stuck in their heads, asking if there's gonna be a music video, asking for a comment on the ‘Spenspresso’ (as twitter so kindly named) allegations, etc. 

Soon enough Alex let you know your mics were being turned on and the stream was starting.

“Oh my goodness, are we live??” You asked, now glancing at the chat, turning immediately a deep shade of red. “Oh god” 

Courtney immediately realized what you were seeing and tried to change the subject of the chat by introducing the stream and talking about how you were gonna be put into the sims world. It did very little to stop the constant talk about your song. 

Spencer showed you a note from off camera, “You should just talk about it a little.” It read. You nodded before speaking. “Okay let’s address the elephant in the room… I’m wearing my hair differently” You joked, making the room laugh. “No actually, okay, thank you guys for all the love on Espresso, It’s actually so nutty how much you guys like it. However! I will be doing a live stream on my instagram to talk about it sometime today or tomorrow! So, hold your questions! Now let's sims!” You exclaimed.

That seemed to do the trick. The chat mostly switched to talking about the stream, and if the comment was about your music it was relevant to designing your character. 

Courtney did a really good job, the sim looked so much like you, almost unnervingly so. You guys had so much fun trying to style your sim, compromising with the chat by making your party outfit popstar inspired. You added your sim to the world, asking the chat what you should do.

“Spencer’s already with Shayne, they literally have a kid, Y/N can’t get with him, duh!” Courtney said, responding to a comment suggesting making you flirt with Spencer. 

A “Damn it!” could be heard off camera, Spencer nudging your foot with his own as he said it. You both joked about the ship of you two. Yet, you couldn’t help but blush and wish that he truly meant it though. His words didn’t go unnoticed by the chat either, opening a whole new can of worms.

The rest of the stream went by much smoother than you expected. You only realized you had promised an instagram live after the stream had ended. This meant you would have to say something about the Spenspresso conspiracies, and how they might not be conspiracies afterall. You would do it tomorrow, you decided. You already had a half day planned tomorrow for an appointment so it gave you time to do it anyway. 

You only had the stream left for the day so you went back to your desk once it ended, packing up your stuff in preparation to leave. 

“You heading out?” Spencer asked, walking over to you, his laptop tucked under his arm. 

“Yep, I’m done for the day.” You explained curtly, hoping to get out of a conversation and home before you word vomited a love confession. Hoping he was satisfied with your answer, you sidestepped him, throwing your bag over your shoulder before muttering a “See ya later Spencer” before swiftly walking to the exit, not stopping to say goodbye to anyone. Which was very unlike you. You were such a sociable person, you always said hello and goodbye to most of the office every day, it was something Spencer liked about you. He enjoyed your extroverted nature, it helped him to be more outgoing. 

He knew there was something wrong. You always give Spencer a hug goodbye, even if he was going to be meeting you at your house in 20 minutes. You barely spoke a word to him all day unless necessary. Not to mention you running away and shutting up in the bathroom this morning. He wondered if he did something to upset you but he couldn’t think of anything. You were together the night prior and were celebrating so he couldn’t imagine he did anything wrong. 

But he was determined to figure it out.

[realultimatepower]

I've seen about 3 posts on here about the guys stuck in the metal tube off the coast of Newfoundland, and I can honestly say that 4/5 of them don't deserve such a tragic fate.

Stockton Rush is the idiot who has been running this botch job and is the pilot of the Iron Lung. This is how he is destined to leave this world, as punishment for his personal hubris and the advantage he has taken of others and their lives.

But everyone else on board is generally a decent person who has done some things to benefit people even if they haven't dedicated their entire livelihood to it.

First off, there's Paul-Henry Nargeolet who is notably not a Billionaire. He is a French oceanographer and an authority on the Titanic wreck who works with several public institutions to recover artifacts from it and contribute to education regarding the tragedy. He did not pay to be there, he is the crew's "Content Expert" essentially a tour guide.

The paying customers are composed of Hamish Harding, who infamously went on one of Musk's space flights in the past year but is also one of only a couple dozen people to go to Challenger Depth (specifically holding the records for Longest Time spent there and Furthest Distance Travelled at CD) and is one of the top fiscal and emotional investors for the Cheetah Conservation Fund that operates in countries such as Somalia and India.

Finally there's Shazahda Dawood: Vice Chairman at Engro (Investment Firm), Board Member of The Prince's Trust (Charity for Disenfranchised Youths), Trustee for the SETI Institute (Searching for Intelligent Life outside Earth), and Father to Suleman his collegiate son who has joined him inside the submersible.

These men may be foolish for taking the trip inside a vessel which is "not approved or certified by any regulatory body" but they aren't bad people and they don't deserve to have their potential deaths celebrated, aside from Stockton who is the worst kind of grifter. Please try to keep this in mind over the next couple days as their oxygen dwindles.

[agirlspower]

Lyari's Girls Cafe Foundation organized Girls Bicycle Race to mark International day of Girl 2023 at Clifton Boat Basin Karachi Pakistan, in collaboration with Engro Foundation & Tdh. Creating a world that values girls, promotes their rights and ends injustice. Let's go for cycling #IDG2023 theme: Invest in Girls’ Rights: Our Leadership, Our Well-being, to show that girls can achieve their dreams and soar further than they ever imagined. . . . .

LyariGirlsCafe #letsgocycling #girlsday #idg2023 #bicyclerace #Pakistan #reclaimed #powerday #happyday #cycling #vibe #Girl #Child #youth

[scribble-dribble-writes]

If you dont mind me asking

I think I may have missed it but why do you think Namora works for her personal gain?

I thought Namora told Namor to attack Wakanda because she cared about the Talocans too. She acted on impulse . She was angry that they killed the two Talocans.

Both Namor and Namora thought about their people and their protection which I don't think is wrong? After all they are in war?

Or maybe I have missed something( I watched the movie only once so its quite possible) I liked all of you analysis, so I thought maybe you can explain it a bit better?

Sorry if I offended you in any way

I'm not offended at all!! Please ask me questions haha I love analysing scenes. The whole topic on Namora stems from how she was just presented to me when I saw the film.

Namor and Namora are cousins according to the comics and they do have that ease of conversation in the movie. The first scene we see her is when they sink the ship in the Atlantic, and then see looks up at the sky when the helicopter takes off. Between Attuma and her, I feel like she's the right hand or more closer individual to Namor. Attuma is the muscle brains (as Okoye says 😂).

The next scene we see her is on the bridge, and the impression I get from her is that she's just ruthless. She's on her task and precise too, she immediately takes on the task of killing the witnesses. This contrast is interesting because when Attuma fights Okoye, she drops her spear and could have eliminated her then and there but instead he kicks it back to her. I derive from that scene, that the Talokans in a way are bound by honour. They do not kill unless required or their opponent has to have the weapon or should have been defeated in battle. When Shuri asks to be taken, Attuma asks for council from Namora again hinting at their power play? She says yes and takes her. From those scenes alone I felt like she had a scheming personality. It's these little connections in the way she holds herself that I found interesting to deconstruct her character further. She definitely feels like someone who works based on a motive.

Then in the cave sequence, she's rather suspicious of Shuri. And that's fair because she's the princess of Wakanda, but Namora keeps a close eye on her interactions with Namor. In his little hut when they were speaking, I'm 100% sure she was posted outside his door and could have been privy to their conversation. From what I've seen from Namor so far, he's a regal ruler. He has one motive, it is to keep his people safe, whatever the cause. His downside is that he's impulsive, but given the fact that he wants to keep their existence a secret from the whole world, he doesn't have much to work with.

The other interesting parallel in his character is when Nakiya talks to the indigenious woman and she says that those with ill will in their hearts do not return from meeting Namor. So I like that he has a great discernment of character and maybe that's why he's taken by Shuri. She's noble and because of a shared trauma, wants vengence to some degree. But he makes demands and likes for them to be met, he's getting frustrated with the nosy surface beings sniffing around his home. Now the whole point of the war tips on one factor. One life to keep the peace , and in enter Riri Williams.

I love the shot of the final moment in the cave. Shuri listens to him and I feel like shes the first person to do so. He entrusts with her his fear and his ambition, his heart is tainted with hatred for the colonisers but I'm sure his interaction with Shuri would have made him pause to reflect on his idea of "all surface people are bad", he depicts or portrays mild mannerisms where he looks like he could be open to change. He admires wakanda but I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted to invade cause that would go against his core ideal of losing a home. He only wants to be sure of security and an ally in destroying his enemy and now wakanda's enemy, the United States so far. Shuri and him are engrossed in conversation, he gives her his mother's bracelet almost like a peace offering before the conversation tips but even then I feel like they were arguing in the most royal sense. The conversation was not about them or their needs but about their people. Now in between this, Namora pops up. She sees this dynamic and having been close to Namor she can tell he would have been enamoured with Shuri, so this could have been working in her head.

Now all this goes on and then Nakiya tips the tension by killing two Talokans, whom Shuri tries to save to prevent war but also because by this time she actually has compassion and empathy for the Talokans. Just before Nakiya enters, you can see her interact with the Talokan lady. With Namor distracted, he would have come back to a scene and it's enraging him. He hold the lady as she passes and the last thing she asks is if he can save her. But in this scene, I feel like he's absolutely pissed off with Ramonda. She threatens him just a second ago and then this happens, so he's starting to see red. In that moment, if the council he received at that moment was like, we need to take time to react I believe he would have waited it out to attack wakanda but instead (OMG THAT SHOT IS BEAUTIFUL) We see the camera focused on his face, you as a viewer already know what's running in his mind, but that's when Namora steps in. She knows him well enough to echo his thoughts in such a way that it will tip him off. She also constructs that conversation around Shuri, about how she could be this vile person who could leak their secret. She's basically accusing him of having a soft spot for her and now she's a witness who should have been eliminated.

This wreaks havoc, she infiltrates the river city along with the army and then if I'm not wrong points him the direction he needed to go. To do the deed, I'm not saying Namor is a mindless fool but the guy is basically in rage mode. He will at all costs not have his people be revealed, so he goes after Ramonda. Now I do believe, if Shuri was in the room with her mother and Riri, Ramonda would not have died, she would have been spared and this attack would have been a warning. But he then sees Shuri crumble, his rage fades and it sort of strikes him as he sees Ramonda lifeless. This guy has a strong connection to mothers so having him be the cause of Ramonda's demise did not really sit right. So when he's about to leave he instructs Shuri or advices her to let go and move on but importantly says that's she's queen now. I feel like he wanted her to be queen because she knew his secret and now she could do better than Ramonda. It's messy, brutal and complex.

We don't get much of Namora in the fight sequence but I get the vibe that when Namor and Shuri fight, she was hoping for Namor to kill her this time around. But instead they become allies on the battlefield and that outcome is not what she's looking for. So Namor goes back home and is healing and commemorating this pivotal moment of Wakandan and Talokan history when we get the final scene. She walks in telling him that what he did was wrong, that she was wanting to fight beside him, that the very thought of him kneeling down to Shuri is not setting well with her. But Namor looks at peace for once just like he had been when he was with Shuri, his people our safe, what he wanted to happen has happened, he's now allies with Wakanda. But Namora comes across as impatient that she wanted to burn the world more than him. That dialogue of hers made me feel she harboured even more hatred than Namor. He convinces her like a child saying she'll get the war she wants. She also operates with a power dynamic, so in her head she might feel she's the closest to Namor, having Shuri there will seem threatening to her. But Namor plays into that unknowingly, he's fangirling about the Black panther while I'm pretty sure she's not getting his attachment for her.

Anyway, I have once again rambled 😂 she may not even be the villain and neither is Namor but she seems fishy (pun intended) to me. She's a chaos child and everyone's pointing fingers at Namor, I want to say that he didn't act alone. But this was how I interpreted their relationship and dynamic.

I believe the true enemy to Wakanda and Talokan is the actually the world and that depends on if these guys are going to leave well enough alone and stop digging for vibranium. But you know colonisers are always on the look out for new places and resources to conquer, so the world is going to dig and it will strike up a war with Wakanda.

[bigtits-boob-milena-velba]

En noviembre de 2006, con el frio vuelve a ambientes hogareños, como "kitchen sweetie"

Aparece con un vestido de camarera, muy corto y escotado, con sus pechos llamativos y su expresión de belleza, muy juvenil.

El vestido es el típico de señora pastelera, formado por el traje, una enagua pomposa, el delantal y la diadema o lazo como en este caso.

Milena muestra un pastel de crema rosada, de fresas y decorada con merengue y toques de limón. Pero su dulzura y mejor ingrediente es el amplio escote, con los pechos casi fuera, apenas es capaz de ocultar sus pezones.

Los perfiles con vestido tan escotados, permiten admirar sus pechos, y las dificultades que ella tiene para encontrar un vestido ajustado a sus necesidades, sin llamar tanto la atención.

Ese vestido tiene una copa B, y ella soprepasa la K, todo una exageración.

Al mostrarse toda ella, además que sus pezones sobresalen, la mirada se dirige a sus piernas. Con unos zapatos engros, de gran tacón, junto a unas medias blancas, tupidas, y acaban en el muslo, con unas enaguas moradas, con ribete blanca, por debajo del vestido de azul pastel.

Lo que resulta inimaginable es lo que esconde debajo de las enaguas, al aparecer un tejido de tiras moradas y blancas, entre sus piernas y unas bragas de encaje blancas.

[aflamethatneverdies]

Just to add some context, Dawood group (one of the owners of which was Shehzada Dawood) owns Engro corporation, and Engro corporation has not only been involved in price gouging of fertilisers in my country due to which it has been fined billions:

https://tribune.com.pk/story/530322/collusive-activities-ccp-nails-fauji-fertilizer-engro-fertilizers-with-rs8-6b-fine?amp=1

But Engro also opened a Thar coal open pit power plant, displacing people from that region and making their lives worse and contributing to climate change. They are also looking to open more coal fired power plants in the same region. The local people and climate activists here despise Engro and their coal projects. The water samples taken from the region where the Thar coal mine is operating, were found to be contaminated as a result: 

https://twitter.com/lok_sujag/status/1643557458303160322/photo/1

That all, when atleast 298 people from my country have died risking their lives to get to Europe for better economic conditions because our economy is completely in shambles and prices for everything are too high and there are no safety nets at all here, that there are in first world countries. Our ruling class is a joke that has led to these conditions that have forced people to migrate, they have always sold our labour to other countries-- the Gulf countries mostly, and relied on remittances instead of doing anything for the country and when working class people try to leave they have to face all this:

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/jun/18/pakistanis-were-forced-below-deck-on-refugee-boat-in-greece-disaster

[michaelcoffeysthoughts]

Watched Today: Black Girl (1966)

[artdecosupernova-writing]

OC Kiss Week Day 5: Night

WIP: Darkspace Portent series Pairing: Thrive x Warren Timeline: Honestly? No idea. CW: none? Rating: T Words: 1,136

***

Warren sat down on the edge of the cliff next to Thrive, resting his feet on top of the stairs carved into the rock face leading down to the beach. The chilled Tournaltis breeze ruffled through their hair, and Warren hugged himself to ward off the initial intensity of the nightly temperature drop.

"How is it that we almost always find ourselves alone during Skywaste concerts?"

Thrive looked at him, amused. "I've often wondered the same thing. There may be something subliminally aphrodisiacal about their music."

"Oh, shit, comin' in hot with the big, sexy words." Warren sighed, his breath escaping in a fog that carried itself away into the deep ink of the sky. "You doing okay?"

"I am." Thrive turned his attention back to the desert lights surfing against the wind over the shore, their glowing reflections causing glitter on the choppy ocean. Skywaste's music from the stage farther inland behind him and Warren echoed across the void, braided with the sounds of their enthusiastic audience. "I'm enjoying myself, but I needed space."

"I get it. Am I intruding?"

Thrive smiled warmly at him. "Never, th'saiya. I do worry that you're anxious about being so close to the edge of the cliff, however."

Warren shook his head. "It's terrifying, but…honestly, I never feel safer than when I'm with you."

Thrive watched him for a few seconds, then reached over to push some of Warren's hair away from his forehead, finishing the gesture with a sweep of his knuckle across his cheekbone.

Warren slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I ever tell you how much I love you?"

"Not a single moment of your life."

"Yeah?" Warren tipped his head back. "That's cool. Why start now?"

Thrive's smile turned mischievous.

"I will say, though," Warren continued, "that they just started playing our song. And I think I'm feeling some type of way about it."

"Does this feeling call for an abrupt departure from the festivities? I seem to recall that being the course of events the first time we heard this song."

Warren shifted so he sat closer to Thrive and delighted in the body heat radiating off of him. "I'd settle for an abridged version."

"Would you?"

"I think if I put in a lot of effort, I can suffer just once the indignity of having to make out with you, you son of a bitch."

"Romantic." Thrive leaned into him, and the contentment in his face could've lit the entire beach with its brilliance. "If you don't mind, however…I'd like to keep things light. While I'm delighted to spend time with you, I also don't want to step away from this. The air is fresh and there's something very pensive about the Sky tonight."

"Hey." Warren grinned at him. "Hearing that you're feeling good is like a fucking drug, man. I'd love to just sit out here with you."

Thrive grasped Warren's hand and pulled it toward himself, interlocking their fingers together as he cast his gaze out to the ocean, where three moons peeked out from the hidden horizon.

"…How light is 'light,' though?"

"There it is," Thrive muttered.

Warren laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm just messing, we don't have to do anything, I swear."

To his pleasant surprise, Thrive moved even closer and tilted his face up with a knuckle under the chin. "I am insanely, tragically in love with you."

"Mm." Butterflies thrashed about in Warren's stomach, as they almost always did in moments like this with no one but Thrive. "Write your own material."

"Why would I do that when your words were succinct and very relatable?"

Thrive finally closed the distance between them, sinking the tips of his fingers into the back of Warren's neck to draw him as close as he physically could. Warren contented in sitting halfway across Thrive's lap for the duration of several songs, blissfully engaged in syncing their minds and running his hands over his chest and shoulders. He coiled his arms around him, so engrossed in Thrive's lips and the warm home of their connection that he would, on occasion, forget they were technically in complete view of everyone for no other hazard than possibly carrying on exactly like that until the sun rose.

By the time either of them had the wherewithal to surface for breathable air, the concert was still in full swing. As Warren crested his amorous fog, he seemed to just then realize with a start that he and Thrive were, in fact, two separate entities.

"Whoa," Warren exhaled.

"Whoa indeed," Thrive murmured, and he regarded Warren with so much affection it almost physically hurt.

After humming and pressing a prolonged kiss to the corner of Thrive's mouth, Warren drooped into his arms. Breathed on his throat, brushed his lips over his pulse point.

"I appreciate your restraint," Thrive said sincerely.

"It's the hardest thing I think I've ever done…pretty literally, as you'll notice." Warren winced. "Sometimes I think I wanna, like…crawl under your skin and live with a Thrive suit on for a while."

Thrive was silent for a beat. "What?"

Warren, overcome with sudden giggles, pulled back to inspect Thrive's bewildered face. "I don't know. I'm a little punchy—that was really fucking weird. I never said that."

"Perhaps bed is a good idea after all for the purpose of sleep."

"Yeah. Maybe. Or maybe I'm allergic to your happiness. God." Warren combed his hand through Thrive's hair. "You're so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?"

"As flattered as I am, this body is not mine."

"So you keep telling me." Warren cocked his head. "Here's the kicker, though—your natural form is just as beautiful. At least…it is to me."

A rapid flash of melancholy appeared on Thrive's face before he masked it with another albeit genuine smile. "Perhaps I'm the lucky one."

"It's definitely me, but I'm not here to argue the point. You're right about one thing, and that's the fact that I need to sleep off whatever alien high I'm on right now. If you wanna stay here, that's great."

"Would you mind if I rested with you?"

Warren recoiled in offense and rattled off a response in a tone that sounded as if he were reading blandly from a script. "No, Thrive. You're not welcome anywhere near me. Ew no, stinky boy."

Thrive laughed, rolling his eyes. "Sarcasm unneeded, but I see my error."

"Sarcasm unneeded, says you. C'mon. Can't get up to sleepy morning shenanigans if we don't go to sleep first."

Thrive watched him stand and move toward the capital house, and Warren basked in the ethereal glow of his smile. "A fair point."

They retired for the night with their arms around each other and the muffled soundtrack of the concert permeating the walls of Warren's room.

[lindonwald]

I need…..to further the engro + ronor agenda,,,,

[capnsoapy]

On the one hand, I see your point that human life has intrinsic value.

On the other hand a friend of mine had an internship with engro and they worked her so hard she lost her baby so like. Drown. The others can survive or not ig.

i don't believe in the death penalty for anything, but even if i did i wouldn't support a method with a 500% mortality rate

[jadipose]

Wanna share some ideas?

ghhgh i have so+me pro+jects i been wo+rking o+n in my spare time

lately ive been engro+ssed in this like. sci fi spy-vs-spy time lo+o+p piece i'm calling The Trap

basically o+ur hero+ine is an o+perative who+ vo+luntarily gets herself trapped in time lo+o+ps so+ she can achieve her missio+n perfectly the "first try"

this time it's co+mplicated by so+meo+ne else jacking her lo+o+p

[jobustad]

Frieslandcampina Engro Pakistan Apprenticeship Program 2024 Advertisement

Frieslandcampina Engro Pakistan Apprenticeship Program 2024 has been announce through Latest advertisement FrieslandCampina Engro Pakistan Ltd. Sahiwal Plant invites applications for the below-mentioned trades under the Apprenticeship Training Program 2024:In these Latest Private Jobs in Punjab both Male and Female candidates can Apply in these Jobs and can get these New Jobs in Pakistan 2024…

[stuartbramhall]

WEF: Climate Change Causes Pakistani Men to Beat up Their Wives

Henna HundalSikander Bizenjo How climate change affects youth mental health in Pakistan Manager, External Engagements, Engro In 2024, Pakistan has faced devastating floods and extreme heat, hindering its recovery from existing climate crisis-related disasters. While the economic and physical health impacts of climate change are clear, Pakistan’s population is also experiencing the often…