#because he didn't want anything on his record?

[ridingtorohan]

hey!! i saw ur recent post about the tulpar crew walking in on reader touching themselves, could u do the same but vice versa?

Ask and ye shall receive!

𓇻 ft. tulpar crew x gn reader

𓇻 content. 18+ content, minors dni. possible second hand embarrassment. masturbation, sexual propositions, the whole shebang. this is a sequel to this post. this one can definitely be read on its own though. lightly implied that reader didn't accept swansea or daisuke's offers in the prequel but that can be left up to interpretation. jimmy's definitely happened though.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎Masterlist - Want to Join my Taglist?

Curly is just so damn tired. Tired of the reports, faxes, checking the straps in the cargo bay. One of the few downtimes he gets is when he can sit and watch the constellations pass on the common room monitor. The Augira, Constantine and Mitena were all ones that he recognized from this sect of the system, all penned from the eyes of Saturn and further.

Movies are a scarce commodity on the screen, given Jimmy's track record of not wanting to hook the systems up, but it helps him nod off most times.

Working out, though? Working out he can do. Pony Express has given him permission to bring his weights on board, alongside a slew of magazines and audiobooks to listen to.

While Curly doesn't think of himself as a gym rat, those moments to himself are some of the best. Nothing but the burn of iron, the strain of his muscles with each rep. It's methodical work, one that sets his mind at ease and off of reports for once.

Some days, he can get Jimmy in on the action, but most of the time his co-pilot bemoans it. Each time they worked out, the stretches between the next session grew longer.

He's pleased when you agree to attend a few sessions with him. By then, it's almost amicable between you two, as if him walking in you didn't even happen. He's very much acted the part of a dutiful captain, though, he can't help his own eyes from wandering when he sees you stretch. Can't help himself from putting his hands firmly on you when he goes to correct your stance. It doesn't linger, doesn't wander, but goddamn, does he wish he could throw propriety out the window.

It's after one of his solo workout sessions when he chooses another way to unwind. Really, that's the only explanation for it. One that he tells himself anyway, because the strain of propriety is heavy. If he still thinks of you from time to time, if your face crops up in his thoughts while he touches himself, that's his business.

The only places you'd catch him in the act is either in the bathroom or his room.

Curly has always been imaginative, thoughts trailing to roads not travelled, paths that burn out of sight. Of you, sprawled out on the bed, and how he wished he had stayed. How he'd have given anything to hike your legs over his waist and kiss you senseless when he slid against you.

As it always is, every fantasy comes to an abrupt end. Every night that he had dreamed of walking in to find you waiting, you found him. Wifebeater drenched in sweat, towel draped over his shoulders, every line of his well built body on display, hand fisted around his cock.

There's a difference between wishing you'd walk in on him and actually receiving it.

A painful, terse moment lingers between you two, tension so thick he swears he can cut it. His hand completes the motion, wiping from his base to the tip, each breath deep. Despite how uncomfortable he felt (for more than one reason), he also felt more prepared. "Hold on a minute." He'll cover himself, boxers and uniform hiding himself from view.

If you believe you could flee from the room without Curly following you, you're dead wrong. He'll track you down, put this to bed once and for all. He'll catch you, half-dressed in his uniform, blue workwear draped around his waist, hand against the wall. "We have to talk about this."

Regardless if you stay or leave, not talking about it is no longer an option. You've both seen more of each other than was warranted, then what you both signed up for, but dammit he wants this. And he's so tired of shying away from things that he wants. From the person that he wants. All because of some higher-ups sitting cozy back home saying that it's wrong to do. He can't do it anymore, not when he feels like he's on the cusp of something great for once in his life.

"I know that what happened isn't what either of us expected," he'll start, voice low and perhaps far too sensual to be appropriate considered his half-dressed state. "And frankly, we can keep it to ourselves, pretend we never saw it." Biting the bullet is one of the fewest things he's done in life, but this is something that he wants to do. By fractions, Curly leans in closer, his voice entering a low murmur. "But... it doesn't have to be. We could give each other a.. hand, so to speak."

Routine. That's one thing that the Tulpar is good at. Routine. Each meal time, the rigid necessity of clocking in and out on time, even bathing. Pony Express may be a shit machine but it's well oiled, worked raw by the people under it. Delivering the payload is a smooth easy task because they all work on it together.

Part of that routine is shift work. Jimmy, ever the night-owl, works evening and night shift. This makes it so incredibly easy to avoid him if you wanted, especially since he walked in on you tending to yourself.

But he doesn't let you forget it. Since that moment, there's a smoldering heat in his gaze, eyes hooded as he watches you go about the room. Watched as you did your tasks, always standing too close - enough that you can get a whiff of his woodsy cologne, or feel his arm against yours.

He's almost helpful, even when your tasks really don't necessitate the need for another. His hands linger, hot against your uniform, his hips against the back of yours whenever he steadied you, or reached above you. Each word a rumble in his throat.

Except there's never really any change to talk to him about what happened. Not when every moment is tense, fraught with unresolved desires and need. Not when Daisuke or Curly walk into the room, silencing the burning questions and words that haunt your lips. Jimmy seems especially disgruntled about the interruptions, getting almost snappy towards the other crewmembers.

All in all, you rarely have a moment to speak with him. It's the furthest thing from your mind when you step out of the shower, more than eager to collapse face first into bed and sleep the weariness away.

If you're the sort to bring clothes into the washroom to change into, the absence of them is noted fast. No amount of scrounging around turns them up either. At a loss, it's to your sleeping quarters to wrangle up something else to wear.

Except you're very much not alone the second you step into your door. The door swishes behind you but you're effectively grounded, eyes drawn to the man lounging on your bed.

His head is tilted, messy hair falling across his hooded eyes, a dark and smoldering look to them. A slow stretch of a smirk crawls across his face, a pleased look darting into his eyes.

Jimmy is just as bare as the day he was born, an arm languidly thrown over your pillow. A leg bent up, not at all coy about having himself on display. His other arm is resting against his thigh, one hand smoothing along his flushed cock in a slow, slick motion. His fingerstips are all but slathered in precum - or actual cum, as you might suspiciously think when you look at your clothes haphazardly thrown onto the floor, looking sticky.

"There you are. Took you long enough." He breathes out your name, chin tilted upward, something primal lurking deep in his eyes. Jimmy clicks his tongue, ever the disapproving copilot. "You should know better than to keep someone waiting." Despite the curt, wanting tone to his words, he doesn't move towards you. Letting you go to him. Like he knows you will.

"I've been thinking," each word is low and deep, husky in his mouth. Jimmy's hand very much doesn't stop moving, stroking himself as you're rooted to the spot. Whenever you glance down between his thighs, his smirk deepens. "That you owe me for what I did for you."

It's not like you could dance around the topic forever; each touch, every interrupted conversation, it all would have culminated to this. Jimmy waiting for you, eager to put his hands back on you, to feel you tremble and shudder beneath him as he pulls you apart.

The thing was, you realize, it'd be terribly easy to leave him here. To not respond to his advances. The door was to your back and even Jimmy had enough sense not to walk out nude in pursuit of you. It'd be easy to walk to another crewmate's quarters and pilfer clothes. It'd be laughed off, brushed under the rug just as another incident, excused as you being unable to enter your room because of 'technical difficulties'.

The thing is, though, you can clearly remember how his hands felt, the way he moved. How Jimmy watched you with the same intensity now, his eyes a dark promise of a repeat experience, if not more.

You don't really want to refuse such an offer, do you?

Try as Anya might, she can't get the image of you out of her head. The sounds you made, how your hands moved. She'd tried to be civil, though how quickly she averts her gaze and fidgety hands betray how much it affected her. Nerves, she'd try to excuse it. Nothing ever related to you, of course, because that sounds too much like blame. She blames herself for walking in on you masturbating, and blames herself for wishing that she hadn't left.

But by god, did it make her needy and so sexually frustrated. She's found every excuse under the sun to touch you then jerk back, at war with herself. She has to act professional. Doesn't she?

Something about you, seeing you like that, had coiled something burning inside of her. Something hot, that festered low in her gut.

For the most part, she can act professional. Mostly. But she can only get so far from letting her eyes trace your silhouette, from sitting on her leg whenever you talk to her. It's risky business, even riskier when she decides to keeps a few tokens of yours. Things that smell like you, even distantly - papers, a bracelet. Things that you've lent to her before.

It's been a while since she got laid, since she's even been attracted to anyone. But something about you just sets her on fire, burning with want and need. She needs you like she's never needed anyone before.

Realistically, Anya knows it's because of the forbidden nature; because of the close proximity day in and day out, but there's something so tantalizingly beautiful about it too. She's a sucker for it.

One of her favourite places to get off is in the medbay; she can lock herself in it - but she doesn't. Because it's so much more tantalizing when she thinks about you walking in. When she thinks about pressing you against the desk and using her medical expertise on you. She wants to hear you - taste you - feel you. Is that too much to ask for?

That's exactly where you catch her. Her breath coming out in hot breaths, eyes shut tightly, uniform pulled open. It'd be so easy to mistake it for something else, such as the room being hot - if it weren't for where her hands were.

One has all but ridden up her shirt, rolling the peak of her breast between her fingers. The zipper has gone all the way down to her waist, one hand curled tightly in her underwear, motions jerky as she fingers herself.

Every inch of her wishes that it was you, your fingers working her over, touching her clit and prodding at her walls. She feels so close, having edged herself for a bit until you came in.

It was just to ask her her input on supper, or for a nonsensical question that very well could have waited for another moment.

The door swishes shut behind you and her eyes flutter, dark as she looks up at you, flush all but crawling up her neck.

Seeing how you look at her - how you came to look for her- needing her for something, a question halfway on your lips - and it's her undoing. She moans your name, guttural and hoarse, hips jerking, dripping over her knuckles. "Wait-" Singlehandedly one of the better orgasms she's had, better than when she pined endlessly.

When her senses come back, Anya is breathless and shaken - and you're long gone.

She's not letting you go this time. Not when a new, burning question lodges inside her. Did you like what you see? Did you wish you weren't there?

Anya approaches your door at night, knocking crisply and when you grant entrance, she stands there, the atmosphere almost palpably awkward. She takes a few steps closer, feeling flighty and desperate, eyes searching your face, whispering your name.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she whispers, voice low in the room, nerves biting at her throat. She can't not know anymore. "But I'm... glad that you did."

"Is this.. tension between us all in my head, or, do you want me too?"

It's one thing after the next. Couplings came loose, Daisuke's homework is not up to par, the lightbulbs need to be changed but no one seems capable of doing it. It all amounts to a sort of frustration winding up in him. Swansea has enough grace not to lash out at anyone, but it's there, palpable in his tone.

By some saving grace, you're willing to help him out with his work. Passing over screwdrivers and wrenches, new copper wire as he needs it. Swansea has noticed that you're attentive and eager like that; willing to help. Sometimes, he really wished you were his intern instead of Daisuke, not that he blames the kid.

He really needs a damn beer.

Wanking out his frustrations as a teenager and young adult had really suited him just fine, and with each passing day, it becomes a far more likely possibility.

It surely does not help when every little moment with you feels charged. Knuckles brushing when you supply him with mechanic tools, or when his arm brushed against your thigh as he steadied the ladder for you.

Swansea finds his gaze lingering.. on how your uniform bunches, the sway of your walk, the excited chatter to your tone when you've launched into some spiel or other. Each look he gives you is in quiet contemplation, though perhaps not as obvious as to why.

He's long since brushed off your curious questions.

It's when Anya outright slipped and fell over an oil spill that Swansea called it quits. There's only so many small annoyances that he could take before it became a hazardous snowstorm.

After it's suitably cleaned, he tried to find a place to tuck himself away. Keyword: tried. Something else always needed to be fixed, and he had enough years under his belt to know the ins and out of everything. Leaky faucet? Hold his glass. Vaccuum given up? He's got it. Curly, goddammit, he has it.

It's so grueling to find a moment of peace, so he takes what he can. That just so happened to be in the utility room, frustrations to a boiling point.

He knows his body, knows just the right way to stroke himself, the perfect amount of pressure. Learned it long since his youthful days, since his amicable divorce from his wife. Sure, it might feel mechanic at a certain point, but to him, it was a small reprieve. A getaway that only booze came close to.

Foreskin pulled back, his head is tucked low, eyes heavily lidded, fingertips pressing under the tip of the head just like he likes.

Swansea has himself sticky with precum when the utility door rattles and open. "Swansea, I found your keys-"

His eyes track up, eyebrows raised. Whatever hasty attempt you may have made, it's blocked by the aging mechanics of the utility door. It's from an older rig, one that still uses keys instead of the security bars that the medbay and cockpit use. Which means it's faulty as shit.

He sighs, head tipped back, eyes still on you. "That's on me for not leaving a sock out there," he grumbles, voice gruff and husky. A reference to how he told you to ward off people when he caught you masturbating earlier.

Moving his hand from his cock, his gaze is surprisingly steady, arm draped against the back of the chair. "Listen, kid, I won't say shit about this if you don't. Keep it jammed tight better than a olive jar when making margaritas. But." He rolls his neck, feeling a satisfying crack run through him. "I can show ya a few things that the ole cap' or other men won't, if yer interested."

Daisuke has been, for lack of a better word, edgy around you. Hovering, then trying to create distance. He can't seem to decide how to act around you. Not when he's seen you that way, pleasuring yourself. When he wishes you'd involve him.

He's seen plenty of naked people before, got hard over them, but wow, did you take it to the next level. Even how you tilt your head or roll up your sleeves has him in an outright tizzy, straining hard in his pants.

Daisuke often has to excuse himself from your presence. Ignoring Swansea's rolling eyes and knowing scoffs is easy; ignoring you is harder.

It's during one of those mundane tasks, where you're prattling about your work to the others, his eyes glued to your form, absorbing every word that he can't take it anymore. Excusing himself, he pops right out of the room, awkwardly striking towards his bunk.

But of course that is the exact moment you decide you need to return his gameboy - or comic, or whatever he had lent you a few weeks prior.

Daisuke is completely in the groove, pants folded down, back propped to the wall, knees folded and lips parted with each heavy breath. He's always been loud, noisy and boisterous. But his saving (and falling) grace is that he's also often playing movies in his room, and what muffled sounds you may hear from the other side of the door is easily chalked up to that. (Or perhaps, you knew.)

You catch him like that, hand fisted around his lean cock, shirt ridden up over his stomach, his movements sharp and jerky. It's bad enough that you walk in on him like this - but another to hear Daisuke rattle out your name, the sound breathy and full of want coming from his lips.

He's a poor, flushed mess, eyes wide when he looks up at you - and it's so plainly obvious to the both of you that he didn't call out because he heard you come in.

"I- I can totally explain." Except he really can't, can he, when he has his dick in his hand, just moaning your name literally seconds ago.

Any attempt to backtrack out of the room will be greeted with a hasty, "Oh my god, no, pleasewait!" As he all but tries to leap from his bed, tripping over his pants in his haste to get to you. Daisuke is nothing but determined and will try to talk to you about this, even if you manage to successfully flee.

Choosing to stay has him utterly red-faced, almost ashamed as he rambles through a tirade of, "Okay, so," punctuated by repeated, stumbled phrases before he manages to get out, "So, me calling out your name just now - total accident. Unlessyoudon'twantittobe? But, like, I definitely understand if you want to leave but I'dreallyratheryoustaybecause I really can't stop thinking about you and, - oh hey, is that my gameboy? You can just set it-- that's not important! I just. Really don't want you to leave. Please."

[coffeegnomee]

I finally finished the Leo revival part and my take is that Mapicc asked Leo to be a mole.

Idk what the original plan was, we know Mapicc wanted to revive him himself, but then Zam and Derap do it first and ask Leo on right away. So they suddenly have like two minutes to prepare.

Leo is insistent and petulant and silly and all the usual 'Lifestealer wants in on a team' tactics. I thought initially that this is why Leo always betrays his old team when asked back/revived bc he just really wants to be involved in the action, and if you ask him back he wants in, regardless of anything that was going on in the past.

But they didn't ask him back: Mapicc did.

And then Leo gets Flame on, within 70 seconds Leo is dead, he guilt trips and then rage quits, making Derap and Zam have to call him back on, which they will of course, and when he gets back he keeps guilt tripping saying he'll just quit.

Flame also logged off instantly after the kill, no talking in chat at all, no comments, nothing. Like he was trying to fake a recording and we all know how terrible the lifestealers are at faking a recording believably. The tell is always that they do it too fast. Lifesteal is longwinded and slow. If you get to the point too fast, you're faking it. And then there's the heart Mapicc later said he got back and the fact Leo still had his same armor trims despite saying Flame took it. If you're faking a kill you give everything back.

So then Leo gets them to come back over, he guesses about the zaun idea, like he already was fed information that he was to infiltrate, and he insists incessantly to be added. And they refuse.

So what's Mapicc to do. the mole failed.

So now it's his turn. He goes for the angle of being mad at Flame, saying they should kill him together. Zam explains how he wanted Leo to hear both sides and then choose, and Mapicc goes, well now he's pissed at Flame so he will never join Mawn (getting Leo back on as a mole), then Mapicc asks if they will help him lure Flame out, they say no, then Mapicc wants to set up a trap at Zaun and Zam says why don't you use your trust with Flame against him, and Mapicc immediately shifts to saying he can't kill Flame bc Flame will just blow up spawn.

Trying everything to get into a situation where Zam and Derap will fight him. Because I think that's his main angle. Despite anything about Zam, Mapicc desperately wants to be opposed with Mawn. He wants to prove his power by a fight, a war, like you do on lifesteal, and they just refuse to fight him. Even if he doesn't want to fight Zam, he sees it as inevitable, not just because he believes Zam will fight him, but because he's meant to be opposed. And nobody is opposing him.

Derap starts laying it on thick that they are just building and want to be peaceful at Zaun and Mapicc, both incredulously and mockingly, says, you guys settled.

And they agree. They're not going to fight.

And Mapicc can only say "have fun living out your days gentlemen" and leaves without waiting for an answer.

I doubt he lets them off that easily. He knows the dedication to the sport of doing an arc against Zam. Zam never gives up. And currently his 'never gives up' is about not fighting.

[bones4thecats]

┗ They're Mine; TFA! Cons × GN! S/O ┛

Characters: Megatron, Starscream, and Shockwave (Transformers Animated) *characters aren't shipped together A/N: This was actually fun to write, I made the idea while ago but never had any energy to write it out. Thank goodness I did, though. I love this, by far one of my most enjoyable pieces to write. ⇘ Summary: After returning from a mission with Shockwave on Cybertron, you attract the attention of Lord Megatron and his second-in-command, Starscream. But, after becoming more comfortable around the Decepticon team, they're shocked by the realization of your status with your spy-partner.

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👑💫 Having one of these mechs on your aft is hard enough. But having both of them? Oh, I feel bad for you.

👑 Megatron doesn't hesitate to show his disdain for any of his fellow Cybertronians, or really anything in general. But, because of this quality, it's easy to tell when you likes you around. Examples of this is Shockwave.

💫 Starscream on the other hand is the exact opposite. He never really shows he likes anyone. Probably because he doesn't, but I regress.

👑💫 However, when you came around, these two changed their actions almost fully. They're still just as unstable as before, but they do try to tone it down when you're nearby. Starscream does this better than the anger-issues having warlord.

👑💫 You were terrified when you met the warlord. You may have been a Decepticon who followed him for many years through the war back home, but actually seeing him face-to-face was totally different.

🧪 During Shockwave's time on Cybertron, you were right by his side. You managed a lot of the background parts, you made sure there were records of a Longarm and Hillcrest being created and being raised on the planet. Longarm being Shockwave's alias and Hillcrest being yours.

👑🧪 When you both were revealed as traitors, you fled to Lord Megatron as quickly as possible. He wasn't happy you both failed, but the way you somehow managed to go that long and get quite a bit of information, did please him.

👑🧪 You stared up at the mech as he looked blankly at you. Shockwave looked back at you with his singular optic, before motioning for you to come closer to him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and introduced you to your shared boss.

"Lord Megatron, I am pleased to introduce you to Y/N. They've been my right-hand during my time on Cybertron. Their knowledge almost surpasses my own, it's quite jarring."

"My Lord." You bowed, nervously staring at the ground as Megatron stared down at you.

"Rise." He demanded, to which you obliged and looked at him with slightly-widened optics.

"So," he began circling around you as he spoke. "You're the infamous Hillcrest Prime, leader of the Cybertronian Defense. Impressive work weakening their defenses on the inside without Ultra Magnus discovering."

"I-uh, thank you, my Lord. Though, Shockwave did do quite a bit of work himself with that." You chuckled.

"Oh, I'm sure he did." He purred, making your cheeks flare with a slight blue tint.

💫 Your first time meeting Starscream was far different. You actually knew him from before the war. He was one of your best friends as you aged. Starscream enjoyed being around you because you helped feed into his ever-growing ego.

💫 He always said you were adorable when you were young, but seeing you and how you aged was shocking. You stood alongside Shockwave, trying to put a few things together before Lugnut began to spout off about Megatron once again.

💫 You looked at Lugnut and blinked annoyingly, a scowl on your face as he kept rambling. He was pissing you off and both Starscream and Shockwave knew this, but didn't bother trying to stop you. They both understood your anger far to well.

"Lugnut. Please be quiet. Shockwave and I must continue our research into the ship and getting information out of Arcee."

"Are you saying you don't want to hear about our glorious leader, Lord Megatron?! How dare you insult him in such a menner?! Why-"

💫 Your optic twitched as you, without hesitation, stomped on Lugnut's ped, kicked him on the side of his face, and pushed him out of the room.

"And if you don't want to listen, stay out!" You yelled, slamming the doors shut.

👑 Megatron heard the noise and went to the room, only to find Lugnut pouting outside of the room.

"Lugnut? What caused that loud boom?" Megatron asked.

👑 The green and purple Decepticon stood up abruptly and bowed to the stoic mech before telling him the story. Only for you to yell back that you heard him and he should stop acting like a sparkling unless he wanted you to come out and throw him out the nearest exit.

👑 Megatron was slightly surprised. When you first arrived, you were on the shy-side, not really speaking unless necessary. But, perhaps that was how Hillcrest acted around people of authority and not Y/N? Most likely.

👑💫 Megatron entered and looked at Starscream, only to see the mech talking to you like he knew you for eons. Of course he did, but the warlord couldn't give a scrap. His second-in-command really knows how to make Megatron want to cut each cable in his system, doesn't he?

"Y/N, can you grab some supplies from the back?" Shockwave asked.

"...Huh? Oh- yeah. What do you need?"

"Just some lubricants and extra cords." He answered, antennae moving around as you smiled and nodded.

👑💫 Megatron and Starscream glared at one another, but they looked at you as you whipped off your servos and laid a cloth down for Shockwave to do the same later on. Come to think of it, the only Cybertronian they saw you always positively and freely interact with was the scientist...

👑💫🧪 Just as they began to go through the few memories they shared with you in the team, you stepped up slightly and pecked the scientist on the side of his helm. His antennae moved slightly upwards as he leaned his helm on yours for a slight second before you left to grab the materials he wanted.

"Did that just... happen?" Starscream mumbled, Lugnut beside him with his jaw dropped open.

"Uh- Shockwave." Megatron called.

👑💫🧪 Shockwave looked at his leader and hummed, wordlessly asking for the larger mech to continue.

"Are you and Y/N a... couple?" He strained out.

"We started acting lovingly while undercover in Cybertron's ranks, those small actions are practically in our average movements now." He replied.

"That doesn't answer the question!" Starscream yelled, servo balled in a fist as he yelled.

"To sum it up...

They're mine."

[octuscle]

Spring Break Party Animal

Kristján Egilsson had come from Iceland to Santa Barbara three years ago to study marine biology. He had completed his bachelor's and master's degrees in record time, graduating at the top of his class. Nevertheless, he found it difficult to get a job. Perhaps it was because of his appearance: to call him slim was an understatement. Kristján was a beanpole. And he looked like he was 18. With a bit of blonde hair on his upper lip and the thin, blonde hair that fell on his shoulders. For his fellow students, it was always a wonder how a person who lived in California and spent a lot of time at the beach could stay so pale. Perhaps it was all due to his lifestyle: vegan, feminist, impeccable carbon footprint. And yet: unemployed!

The offer of a research assistant position with the possibility of a doctorate at New College Of Florida in Sarasota was anything but his dream. But still better than returning to Iceland. Kristján found it hard to admit, but somehow he liked the American way of life. The university had promised him a place in a hall of residence for post-graduate students, but had asked him to stay in a motel near the campus for a short time in the meantime. The previous tenant in the hall of residence had apparently been quite a party animal, so the place needed to be redecorated first, the personnel officer had told him with a mischievous wink.

Kristján arrived in Sarasota three weeks before the start of the spring semester. The bus ride had been long and exhausting. But a flight had not been justifiable in view of the CO2 emissions. He had left Atlanta very early this morning and finally arrived after changing buses in Tallahassee and Tampa. He had been on the road for over 70 hours. He was dead tired. The place was quiet. He checked into the somewhat shabby hotel, got into his room and, finally back in a real bed, fell asleep immediately.

His alarm went off at 6:00 a.m. He wanted to go to the beach; he hadn't seen the sea in ages. He would swim, wash off the dirt of the bus ride and then explore the campus. There was no one in the breakfast room yet. The waitress looked at him blankly and said that breakfast was not served until 8:00 a.m. Kristján was starving. He smiled his disarming Scandinavian boy's smile. “I'll see what I can do,” said the waitress, and disappeared into the kitchen. Kristján checked the weather conditions on his cell phone. He wanted to familiarize himself with the currents at the beach. And then he was served a huge portion of scrambled eggs and bacon. “I can't make you anything more, the cook isn't here yet,” said the waitress. Kristján didn't have the energy to argue about vegan nutrition. And he was starving, to be honest. A few bites wouldn't kill him. The scrambled eggs were delicious. He wolfed them down. He asked if he could get a coffee. The waitress brought him a Coke, apologizing that the coffee machine was still off. Kristján downed the 26-ounce bottle of sweet swill almost in one gulp. This was followed by an unparalleled belch. The waitress grinned and said that maybe there was a man in the boy after all. Kristján smiled, feeling both embarrassed and bewildered.

Kristján had spent the whole day by the sea. Near the city, the ecosystem was of course not particularly exciting. But he had gathered a few ideas about how to make simple improvements. Establishing protected zones, artificial reefs, things like that. He wanted to put his ideas on paper. But the mood in the hotel had changed considerably. He had seen the “spring break” posters everywhere. Tonight was the opening party. And now the first guests were arriving, crowding the reception and the lobby, making noise. This could be great. Kristján sighed and went to his room. On his minibar was a note saying “Have a great spring break, the first sixback is on us”. The minibar was stocked with beer.

At some point last night, Kristian had lost the desire to develop his ideas. There had been loud music coming from the pool and he could no longer concentrate, so he had taken a beer from the fridge, drunk it and then fallen into bed. He had ignored the alarm clock today. But there was no breakfast before 08:00 anyway. And when he was in the breakfast room at 08:00, he was still alone. A few students were lying by the pool, snoring. Kristian grabbed some scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages and wolfed down his breakfast. He wanted to finish before the students woke up. The plan for today was to get a bike. He had to be mobile in the city somehow. And he also wanted to explore the city and take a look at the campus. So far, he had only seen it on the internet. He had found a store for second-hand bikes on the internet and got a bargain there. Cool guys there, he had talked to them and got tips for the city. He had only been on campus for a short time; apart from a few construction workers, everything was pretty deserted. At the beach, he had only seen the crowds of people partying there and quickly turned back. Back at the hotel, he was happy that it was relatively quiet. He lay down by the pool. At some point, someone asked him if he wanted a beer. At some point, Kristian got himself a second beer. At some point, the party was also in full swing here by the pool.

Damn, that was one beer too many... at least. Christian threw up mangily in the bathroom. There was a full condom on the floor. He looked in the mirror. He looked like shit! Maybe a shave would help. He just left his moustache. Yes, that was better. Now breakfast, then a nap by the pool, then he'd be fine. Logan, Todd and Chad were already eating breakfast. With their first or second beer. Hey, what better way to have a real man's breakfast. Logan asked if the plan with the tattoo artist at lunchtime was still on. “Sure thing,” said Christian, half the scrambled eggs falling out of his mouth. He'd always wanted a tattoo. The sluts were into that kind of thing! But now he really had to piss. Damn it, he wasn't used to four beers for breakfast Shit, he wasn't going to make it to the toilet. He pissed on a palm tree on the terrace. To the jeers of the other boys. Now another burp. And then off to the sun lounger. A nap and a tan!

As Logan and he rode along the promenade on their motorcycles after the session at the tattooist, they could hardly wait for the evening to arrive. Their cocks were longing to finally be used again. Christian had already gotten hard during the tattooing session. His tattoo artist was also a guy after his own heart. Every now and then he really liked to fuck a tight man's ass. He would never tell the boys. Although... Todd had also sucked his cock before. Without making eye contact, of course. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

Shit, the party the night before had been awesome. The only sensible reason to go to college was really Springbreak! Cris took the last bottle of beer out of the fridge, lit a cigarette and went into the bathroom. His hair looked like shit. But one of the boys had brought long hair clippers. He would be able to trim his mullet for tonight. He trimmed his belly. Shit, Coach was going to give him another lecture when spring trimester started. But the diet of spare ribs, burgers and beer was working. And training would start again in April!

Shit, the trimester would start again in a week. Chris really wasn't a friend of the campus. But without a bachelor's degree, no money from his parents. And without money from his parents, no spring break. And without spring break, no sex. Who the fuck was he kidding? He was one of the hottest guys on campus. He would always have sex. And with the bitch at the other end of the pool. Cris let himself slide into the water. Thank God the water was warm. His hard-on would remain stable until he reached the other side of the pool.

Chris' pic found @boysgettingbigger

[out-there-tmblr]

Young Zaundads wip (11)

(Not where I wanted to end this section but I need to sleep)

***

They both get the stew, and eat it quickly, shovelling in mouthfuls without saying a word. Connol and Benzo are chattering about something that happened today but Vander isn't listening. His knee pressed against Silco's and all he wants to do is get out of here.

They finish in record time and Silco offers to return their plates and trays. As soon as he's away from the table, Felicia kicks his shin. "You're not subtle, you know."

"What?" Vander asks, watching Silco make his way across the room. His shoulders twisting to walk between people, the dark hair tied back in a low bun with a few loose strands curling against his neck.

"Come on," Felicia replies. "I'll eat my hard hat if you're not about to drag him out to the store rooms."

"What's wrong with that?" Across the room, Silco stops to talk to one of the kitchenhands. He glances over at Vander and Vander feels himself grin back at him. 

Felicia laughs. "Nothing. There's nothing wrong with it."

"You didn't see Vander throw a pickaxe today," Benzo mutters, reaching for his drink.

Vander ignores them, standing up as Silco returns. "Ready to go?"

"I can't." Silco looks more serious than he should. "Change of plans."

"What?"

"My plans," Silco says, echoing Vander's irritated tone, "have changed. It's not a hard concept to grasp."

Vander reaches out, wraps a hand around Silco's wrist and Silco softens.

"Stay here," Silco says, voice almost gentle. "Drink with your friends. I have to do something, but I'll be back later."

Vander nods and sits back down as Silco leaves. Vander looks across the table to find his friends staring at him. "What?"

Connol and Felicia share a glance. "Do you want to be here," Connol asks, "or with him?"

Vander shrugs. "I know I've been spending a lot of time with Silco lately–"

"No," Connol interrupts. "It was a genuine question. Where do you want to be?"

"With him."

"Then why are you here?" Felicia asks pointedly and Vander thinks about it. She has a point.

"I will see you tomorrow," he promises, standing up and hurrying out the door. He looks around the courtyard, from the dorms on one side the dark store rooms on the other, but Silco's nowhere to be seen. Silco might be on his way to the riverbank, so Vander heads left, towards the courtyard gates.

As he walks, a movement behind the mess hall catches his attention. It's murky and shadowed back there, and then there's a thin line of light as the door creaks open and Vander spots a familiar outline standing in the dark.

He changes direction but walks quietly, not wanting to interrupt the hushed conversation Silco's having with someone inside. The door opens a little wider, a large cloth sack is pushed at Silco, and then the door closes again, leaving Silco and Vander in the dark.

Vander steps forward, a crunch of gravel under his foot and Silco spins around to face him, bag down at his side and one fist raised, ready to fight. "Silco?"

Silco huffs out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. "What are you doing here?"

"Followed you. Wanted to help, if I could."

"And if you couldn't help?"

"I wanted to spend time with you," Vander says and Silco sneers at him like it's ridiculous. "I'm not the one who suddenly changed our plans."

"There's an inspection tomorrow. The kitchen just got word." Silco lifts up the bag and starts walking along the fence, heading towards the dorms. "Of course, the Piltover inspectors can't be expected to eat stale bread, so the kitchen will be baking everything fresh in the morning. And anything old gets thrown out before the inspectors see it."

From the way Silco carries the bag, it's bulky but not heavy. "Are you stealing stale bread?"

"I'm not stealing it. It would have been thrown out." Silco frowns, eyes narrowing. "Quietly. Because they don't want the miners to know how easily the mine discards the same things they charge us for. But Manix in the kitchen was a foundling, so I keep quiet and he gives it to me instead."

Vander never sees Silco eat in the mornings but surely he would have noticed if Silco had bags of bread stashed away in his secret hideout. It definitely would have been found in the dorms. "What are you going to do with that much bread?"

"You'll see," Silco mutters. He leads them around the outside edge of the compound, avoiding the well-lit centre. They pass by Vander's dorm, and then Felicia's, and then Silco's. They pass another two, and then stop at the very last one, closest to the mines and furthest from the gate and the mess hall. All of the dorms have metal doors with soldered iron bars for locking them. Usually, the gears on the bars are rusted solid from lack of use; the gears on this door are shiny and clean.

Silco raps on the door and it's opened by an unimpressed teenager, arms folded across his chest. He steps forward, blocking the doorway. "What do you want?" he asks Vander and then he sees Silco over Vander's shoulder, and steps away. He gives two sharp whistles, and the noise goes quiet as they step inside.

The bunks in here are smaller. In Vander's dorm, the double row of beds lines up along each wall with space between each bed. Here, the smaller bunk beds are pushed against the wall, the head of each bunk touching the feet of the next. In the middle of the room, there's one large table and an empty space with a threadbare rug. There are kids everywhere. Sitting on their bunks, sitting in groups on the floor, a group of older teens standing by the door. They watch him in a distrustful way that reminds him of Silco.

Vander ducks down to quietly ask, "Are we allowed to be here?"

"No," Silco replies. "That's why we used the back door. No adults allowed."

Silco walks around to the table and places the sack on it. He starts pulling out bread rolls, lining them up on the table and counting them out. He calls out loudly, "Come on, everyone, you know the drill. One each," and the kids start lining up at the table. It's surprisingly orderly. They don't snatch at the food or all rush the table. They just shuffle forward and pick out a bread roll each, weirdly solemn despite the free food.

Vander spots Seksha in the line and smiles at her, but she looks away.

The older kids at the door, the ones that are only a few years younger than him and Silco, are the last ones to join the line. They keep one of them standing by the front door at all times. A lookout, Vander realises. They're guarding the younger teens. The two oldest seem to be a boy with dark blue hair and a girl with dirty blonde hair cropped short. Silco clearly knows them well.

"Vena, Eri, you'll have to divide what's left tomorrow," Silco tells them, handing them the sack. "There are three left. Who didn't come for food?"

"Marci has a sprained ankle," Eri says, pushing hair behind his ear. "Petrov's sleeping off a cold. Evelie…"

"I heard," Silco says. "Show me." 

Vander follows them to the back corner where a girl of fifteen lies in bed, skin clammy and pale, her red hair lying limp against her scalp. Her left arm is bandaged from the elbow to the forearm, and there's no hand below that.

Silco looks at her and the corners of his mouth grow tight. "What did the medic say?"

"It's a fever," Vena says, voice low and angry. "Nothing can be done until she beats it."

"Keep her cool," Vander says, remembering his Ma's advice. "Damp cloths on her forehead, her chest and under her arms. Willow-weed can help. It grows near the riverbed. You need pieces that haven't touched the river. You boil it and feed her the water when it's cool."

Maybe it's inappropriate when there's a girl sweating and pale on the bed, but Vander loves the way Silco looks at him, awed and impressed. Like Vander just did something miraculous by offering some simple advice.

"Do you need us to fetch some?" Vander offers, enjoying Silco's admiration.

"No," Eri says. "We'll get it."

"Tonight," Silco insists. "There's an inspection tomorrow."

Vena snorts. "Yeah, we know. You wouldn't be here otherwise."

"We should go," Silco says to Vander, and then turns to Eri. "If Evelie gets worse, if you need to take her to the river, send word to me. I'll do it."

Vander doesn't ask about it until they're walking away from the dorm, heading to the mine. "Take her to the river? Everyone knows you don't get into the river with so much as a scratch."

"The Pilt is always hungry for blood," Silco recites. It's a simple phrase, something every child in the undercity is taught. "If the river tastes blood, the river kills."

"So why would you offer to take her?"

"Because sometimes it's kinder than letting it take weeks for someone to die. It's certainly easier for the children sleeping close to her."

Vander follows Silco's quick steps, but he's starting to know these twists and turns to Silco's abandoned shed. "Another question. That was free food, so why weren't the kids excited?"

"Because they know it only happens before an inspection," Silco replies. "The Pilties get unnerved by us Foundlings. Haven't you noticed? Every time there's an inspection, everyone working in our mine is over eighteen. The Piltovers don't like seeing the kids that clear the new shafts, so the doors on the foundling dorm are locked up tight."

[respectthepetty]

Dear Petty! If you’ve been keeping up with the tea: what is your latest assessment of the Joong/Est drama? Twitter is saying that Joong is hyping the beef because both he and Est have shows airing at the same time. It seems that Est stans (… 🤨) are also claiming talent superiority. And Joong has this pinned to his Twitter timeline:

Do you have the latest dish download?

Turtles!!!! Fun fact! TMZ is known for delivering celebrity gossip; however, on the bias scale, they fall nicely in the middle because the company doesn't have a clear bias, and the news source is actually pretty reliable. The reason the source doesn't score higher in reliability is because the writers try to analyze what they see instead of solely reporting what has been seen. I offer this tidbit because in the weeks since those "JoongDunk Divorce Era" posts on Twitter and Reddit, these basic facts have emerged:

Joong DID block Est. They both unfollowed each other on Instagram and Twitter, but Joong blocked Est. I will not TMZ this up and try to analyze why he did that, but the fact is he did and the youths have verified it.

The "divorce era" JoongDunk posts came in November, but people noticed the Est and Joong drama way back in SEPTEMBER because even at the beginning of October, everyone and their mama went to the ATEEZ concert and Joong and Est did not interact even though they were both there in the same vicinity with various GMMTV people like Mint, Neo, and Arm.

Daou went on the defense about the "Est is wrecking the DaouOffroad home" and posted several times about him and Offroad being fine when people tried telling him he needed to spend more time with Offroad.

A person actually questioned Dunk (if my memory is correct) about the incident where he hung out with Pond and Est while Joong was out of town during a fan meet. I know the post exists of the actual piece of paper with the question, but I cannot find it now! (Chismosa 101, Lesson #1 - Always get the screenshots!)

Joong went on his little trip with First and Khaotung sans Dunk

Joong and Dunk have stated they had a disagreement not just once

BUT TWICE!

And Joong said only they could fix it.

JASP.ER was announced where Joong will be working with Dunk's bestie, Pond, who also was at the infamous dinner with Dunk and Est and who the people ship with Dunk

Then Est went on record and stated he has a very small circle of friends and he is currently single because it's really hard for him to talk to people

Finally, Joong made a cameo on Est's currently airing show, ThamePo, which as far as I'm aware, Joong strangely did not promote. However, I don't have a Twitter account, so I could have missed it.

So now I will put on my TMZ cap:

As much as I want the fictional and real gays to lie, I think that this is the tea — Joong and Est got beef hence why Est was blocked and they aren't interacting. Sides were picked, problems arose from the way people operated (*cough* Dunk *cough*), and instead of GMMTV learning anything from the Tay and Gun kiss, the ongoing Joss bullshit, or ANY incident prior to this, GMMTV somehow didn't go full Adele's management team and pull these boys' social media or give them social media training, so here I am as a Jaidee fan first, and a human second enjoying the hell out of The Heart Killers and praying for Dare You to Death to get filmed just in case the separation sticks and my troublesome tykes divorce before the first gay marriage actually even happens in Thailand.

So yeah . . .

That's that on that!

[anamericangirl]

I have to rant to someone who will understand how egregious and obnoxious this is because my friends are sick of me. The reaction to rural NC in this hurricane? This will be the norm if Tim Walz is VP. Walz has been dismissive, insulting, and malicious towards rural Minnesota. He said that there's nothing of value, nothing but rocks and cows. He has very clearly expressed antagonism towards rural values and culture. Tim Walz will brag about his education bills, yet he tracks down rural schools with high native populations and penalizes their funding and burdens their staff with unnecessary training and even legal threats because they punish "too high" a number of native students compared to white. I work among schools that are 99% native and they every year have mandated training to address their racial bias and face harsh penalties from the state for punishing too many native kids. They have to adapt to the loss of funding. Despite the rez saying they want to set a standard of excellence and they are proud to be breaking generational curses, Walz denies them crucial funding and punishes them for trying to help their kids learn to make the right choices. He recently signed in a bill requiring free lunches, and knowingly and purposefully did not modify the paperwork process many rural schools rely on to make up the missing our districts desperately need, which relies on students signing up for free and reduced lunches. This bill has devastated funding and left many rural schools scrambling. In addition, he continues to refuse to provide rural schools with more support to bus students, knowing that they cannot afford the costs of bussing over so many miles. Instead, he continues to pour funding into transportation for students in the cities. He has implemented bloated and wasteful mentor programs for teachers yet refuses to allow schools to take disciplinary action against students who directly threaten the lives and wellbeing of teachers. We had a gun threat at our school and the district did not expel the student who made the threat to shoot up the school because he was native and Walz's administration was likely to sue. He also refuses to do anything about our shitty retirement. We have the top (or did before he fucked us over) educators in the nation, and yet are ranked among the bottom 5 for benefits and retirement. But he refuses to fix retirement because nobody wants to teach in his schools, and if he actually fixes retirement, there will be almost no teachers left.

Walz is wrathful and vindictive to rural communities because they don't vote for him or like his policies, and he purposefully makes our lives harder. As his records show, he is a liar and a braggart. In true Minnesotan fashion, he'll underhandedly cut you while he smiles and calls you his neighbor. That man is a snake, and if you despise what you see with the hurricane response, know that he will never pass up an opportunity to make the lives of those who didn't and wouldn't vote for him a living hell, and this level of abuse of rural communities and vulnerable poor populations will get worse.

I’m obviously a little late to this but man it’s always worse than I think!

The only thing good people ever had to say about Walz was “free lunches 😍” but even that was shit when you actually look at what the policy was and the impact it had.

And instead of treating rural areas like trash because they don’t vote the right way maybe he should have been treating them better if he wanted the votes.

The response from him and Harris to the hurricane over here was abysmal and of course that just speaks to what kind of people they are and their treatment of us after that storm definitely lost them North Carolina.

Sorry you’re stuck with him over there, though.

[eternalera]

megumi birthday headcannons <333

He hates his birthday, despises it with a passion, this is mainly because of Gojo and just stemming from the fact that he never really cared about the day that he was born in the first place. After all he didn't really know when it was until Gojo showed up and insisted that he knew. The man then did some digging into his birth records and... yeah it was soon found out

Tsumiki always made a big deal of his birthday to try and 'cheer him up a bit' and since he always prepared well for her birthday's she wanted to prepare something amazing for his. Which usually consisted of a trip to the park to watch the animals, and some sweets (which Megumi barely ate and then when Gojo came... I'm sure you can figure it out)

He doesn't really care too much about presents unless they're really thoughtful or they're something that he really wants (which he doesn't want a lot and good job trying to get it out of him)

He's just the type of person to say 'i dont want anything' whenever you ask him what he want's as a gift

Gojo always bought him the most expensive shit for his birthday, toys and stuff like that but once he saw that Megumi didn't really care for stuff like that he started giving him more practical (yet still silly) shirts and clothing for him to wear and whenever he sees him wearing it he teases him

Tsumiki and Gojo plan surprise parties for Megumi on his birthday so often that it's not really a surprise anymore

Once Tsumiki fell into a coma though those surprise parties turned more into Gojo just trying to get Megumi to do anything for his birthday

This is because Gojo and Tsumiki basically made a pact a while back to cheer Megumi up and always make him have fun at no matter the cost and thats kinda why they threw the surprise parties and it's why Gojo continues doing it now

Once Yuuji and Nobara came along Megumi did not tell them when his birthday was

They found out from Gojo who came into class one day with a plethora of birthday stuff and began singing happy birthday to Megumi

Megumi was not amused

Nobara and Yuuji then proceeded to harass a poor Megumi for an extremely long amount of time before Nobara just went 'ah well guess i dont have to get you a gift now'

Meanwhile Yuuji went 'I DIDNT GET YOU ANYTHING IM SUCH A BAD FRIEND NOOOOO'

They went shopping for Megumi and halfway through they lost Nobara (she began shopping for herself)

Megumi and Yuuji were left alone and both wondering that if this was technically a date

It practically was

BACK TO GENERAL HEADCANNONS

Megumi still tells no one when his birthday is so Yuuji and Nobara plan parties for him all of the time

When Megumi and Yuuji started dating Yuuji began panicking whenever Megumi's birthday would come up because he didn't know what to get him and that made him a 'bad boyfriend who didnt deserve megumi'

Nobara is practically Yuuji's therapist during such trying times

Nobara gets Megumi random shit, like literally whatever vaguely reminds her of him or something that she thinks that he might like, although sometimes she'll shop for herself, give Megumi something and if he doesn't like it then she'll take it

Yuuji planned a date for Megumi's birthday one time and everyone followed them around the whole time (Megumi knew, Yuuji didn't)

anywaysss HAPPY BIRTHDAY GUMI!!

[captainunderpantsmutual]

Fixed some stuff

Evil George and George's Story

"George's eyes widen in terror as a chilling laugh echoes through the room. A spectral figure, a twisted reflection of himself, hovers over him. 'George,' the spectral figure hisses, its voice a cold whisper, 'how could you?'"

"George's heart pounds in his chest as he tries to sit up, but his body feels heavy as if rooted to the mattress. 'What do you want from me?' he gasps, his voice barely a whisper. 'Why are you in my bed?'"

"The spectral figure's laugh, a hollow, mirthless sound, fills the room. 'You know nobody can see me,' it taunts. 'You know that nobody can hear me, George. You're the only one.'"

"Sweat beads on George's forehead as he struggles to break free. His body feels paralyzed, his mind racing with fear. 'Please stop this,' he pleads, his voice trembling. 'Not tonight.'"

"The spectral figure leans closer, its icy touch brushing against George's cheek. 'Does it hurt?' it asks, its voice dripping with malice. 'Yes, it hurts!' George cries out, his voice filled with pain and terror. He tries to push the figure away, but his limbs are useless."

"Desperate, George screams, 'Look, just stop touching my face!' His voice echoes through the empty room, a desperate plea for help that no one can hear. 'You know I'm you, right...' He moves away."

"George is shocked to see evil George. 'Evil George! I thought we talked about this,' he says, finally able to move. He moves back against the cold wall, which is black because the lights are off."

"Evil George comes closer. 'You can say you thought you killed off my idea, right...' He smiles evilly. 'George, have you thought why you've been sick lately?' He laughs."

"George looks down at the bed sheet, shaking, and doesn't say anything."

"It was me, George," he said as he tied a rope around George.

"You can't escape. “You'll never leave this world."

George woke up, thinking about it all day. The next day, he brushed his teeth and got ready for school. He probably thought it was just a dream, but there's no way it could be possible. It's probably just a daydream or whatever.

At school

"Hey buddy, are you alright? You look tired. Did you not get any sleep?" Harold asked.

"I'm okay, Harold, just homework," George replied, but he was lying.

Harold sensed that something was off, but he didn't think it was a big deal.

"Well, my mother is getting me a therapist. She thinks I'm a crazy dude," George confessed.

“What do you mean?” Harold questioned

“Look, Harold, I can't explain. It is not something I can explain, how or what I'm seeing.”

“George, what are you seeing? I noticed you stop at the window,” he shook George.

George was staring at an evil version of himself burning a paper that was a drawing of him.

“Do you see that, Harold?”

“No, dude, there's nobody outside.”

No, I just saw myself," George stepped back. "Get away from me!" He felt his evil self getting closer.

Most of his classmates stopped in the hallway, watching him.

Harold went to George. "George, are you okay? Nobody is there," he said as he went to cover him. "Guys, stop recording him. This is not right. He's going through something. It's just wrong!"

George got called to the office.

Mr. Krupp looks at George.

Harold, worried, said, "Look, it wasn't a prank. He's acting weird, Krupp."

Krupp sighs. "George, look, if you're having this episode, you might have to move schools or be homeschooled."

George is zoning out and not talking at all.

Harold, shocked, asked, “Episode! What is he going through?”

Krupp guessed it was a mental disorder, but he was wrong. Harold didn't know Krupp was wrong, but George snaps out.

“Stop saying I'm crazy. He's real. He's hurting me!” George says

In the lab

Melvin laughing to himself in his lab

“There's no way George is losing his mind, Harold”

It could have been his life, or could it? Melvin said to Harold

End of Part 1.

Evil George and George story

"George's eyes widen in terror as a chilling laugh echoes through the room. A spectral figure, a twisted reflection of himself, hovers over him. 'George,' the spectral figure hisses, its voice a cold whisper, 'how could you?'"

"George's heart pounds in his chest as he tries to sit up, but his body feels heavy, as if rooted to the mattress. 'What do you want from me?' he gasps, his voice barely a whisper. 'Why are you in my bed?'"

"The spectral figure's laugh, a hollow, mirthless sound, fills the room. 'You know nobody can see me,' it taunts. 'You know that nobody can hear me, George. You're the only one.'"

"Sweat beads on George's forehead as he struggles to break free. His body feels paralyzed, his mind racing with fear. 'Please stop this,' he pleads, his voice trembling. 'Not tonight.'"

"The spectral figure leans closer, its icy touch brushing against George's cheek. 'Does it hurt?' it asks, its voice dripping with malice. 'Yes, it hurts!' George cries out, his voice filled with pain and terror. He tries to push the figure away, but his limbs are useless."

"Desperate, George screams, 'Look, just stop touching my face!' His voice echoes through the empty room, a desperate plea for help that no one can hear. 'You know I'm you, right...' He moves away."

"George is shocked to see evil George. 'Evil George! I thought we talked about this,' he says, finally able to move. He moves back against the cold wall, which is black because the lights are off."

"Evil George comes closer. 'You can say you thought you killed off my idea, right...' He smiles evilly. 'George, have you thought why you've been sick lately?' He laughs."

"George looks down at the bed sheet, shaking, and doesn't say anything."

"It was me, George," he said as he tied a rope around George.

"You can't escape. “You'll never leave this world."

George woke up, thinking about it all day. The next day, he brushed his teeth and got ready for school. He probably thought it was just a dream, but there's no way it could be possible. It's probably just a daydream or whatever.

At school

"Hey buddy, are you alright? You look tired. Did you not get any sleep?" Harold asked.

"I'm okay, Harold, just homework," George replied, but he was lying.

Harold sensed that something was off, but he didn't think it was a big deal.

"Well, my mother is getting me a therapist. She thinks I'm a crazy dude," George confessed.

“What do you mean?” Harold questioned

“Look, Harold, I can't explain. It is not something I can explain, how or what I'm seeing.”

“George, what are you seeing? I noticed you stop at the window,” he shook George.

George was staring at an evil version of himself burning a paper that was a drawing of him.

“Do you see that, Harold?”

“No, dude, there's nobody outside.”

No, I just saw myself," George stepped back. "Get away from me!" He felt his evil self getting closer.

Most of his classmates stopped in the hallway, watching him.

Harold went to George. "George, are you okay? Nobody is there," he said as he went to cover him. "Guys, stop recording him. This is not right. He's going through something. It's just wrong!"

George got called to the office.

Mr. Krupp looks at George.

Harold, worried, said, "Look, it wasn't a prank. He's actually acting weird, Krupp."

Krupp sighs. "George, look, if you're having this episode, you might have to move schools or be homeschooled."

George is zoning out and not talking at all.

Harold, shocked, asked, “Episode! What is he going through?”

Krupp guessed it was a mental disorder, but he was wrong. Harold didn't know Krupp was wrong, but George snaps out.

“Stop saying I'm crazy. He's real. He's hurting me!” George says

In the lab

Melvin laughing to himself in his lab

“There no way George is losing his mind Harold”

It could have been his life, or could it? Melvin said to Harold

End of Part 1.

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy who likes to look very innocent and pretend that he simply wants to smell something but then will try to bite it out of your hands as soon as you've let your guard down

[mariocki]

Infinite list of favourite lyrics: 229/?

Bobbie Gentry - Ode to Billie Joe (1967)

"And Papa said to Mama, as he passed around the black-eyed peas:

'Well, Billie Joe never had a lick of sense; pass the biscuits, please.

There's five more acres in the lower forty I got to plow'

And Mama said it was a shame about Billie Joe, anyhow.

Seems like nothin' ever comes to no good up on Choctaw Ridge

And now Billie Joe McAllister's jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge"

[...]

"Mama said to me, 'Child, what's happened to your appetite?

I've been cookin' all morning, and you haven't touched a single bite.

That nice young preacher, Brother Taylor, dropped by today

Said he'd be pleased to have dinner on Sunday - oh, by the way

He said he saw a girl that looked a lot like you up on Choctaw Ridge

And she and Billie Joe was throwin' something off the Tallahatchie Bridge'"

[septembersghost]

Burning Love montage has been stuck in my head all day and made me think of you!

💗🔥💃🏻LIKE A SWEET SONG OF A CHOIR YOU LIGHT MY MORNING SKY WITH BURNING LOVE 💃🏻🔥💗

was it because the every elvis second twt just did that section?

rent free in my head. shout out to the entire creative team, and especially austin butler, the man that you are, catherine martin, the woman that you are!!!

[tomurakii]

Winged men I would hit with my car + reverse back over to make sure the job was done if I saw them on the street

[neverendingford]

,

[cyarsk52-20]

When Tina Turner left her first husband - who was also her boss, captor, and brutal tormentor - she snuck out of their Dallas hotel room with a single thought in her mind: "The way out is through the door." From there she fled across the midnight freeway, semi-trucks careening past her, with 36 cents and a Mobil gas card in her pocket. As soon as she decided to walk out that door, she owned nothing else. When she filed for divorce, she made an unusual request. She didn't want anything: not the song rights, not the cars, not the houses, not the money. All she wanted was the stage name he gave her - Tina - and her married name - Turner. This was the name by which the world had come to know her, and keeping it was her only chance to salvage her career. Things could have gone a lot of ways from there. She could have labored in obscurity for decades, maybe making records on small labels to be prized by vinyl connoisseurs in Portland. She could have stayed in Vegas, where she first went to get her chops back up, and worked as a nostalgia act. And, of course, given what she had been through, she might have … not made it. What happened instead is that Tina Turner became the biggest global rock star of the 80s. I'm old enough to barely remember this, but if you aren't, it was like this: The Rolling Stones would headline a stadium one day, and the next day it would be Tina Turner. A middle-aged Black woman - she became a rock star at 42! - sitting atop the 1980s like it was her throne. She managed this because of whatever rare stuff she was made of (this is a woman whose label gave her two weeks to record her solo debut, Private Dancer, which went five times platinum); because she decided to speak publicly about her abusive marriage and forge her own identity, and in doing so give hope and courage to countless women; and also because - in a perhaps unlikely twist for a girl from Nutbush, Tennessee - she had her practice of Soka Gakkai Nichiren Buddhism, to which she credited her survival. She remained devout until the end. Tina's second marriage - to her, her only marriage - was to Edwin Bach, a Swiss music executive 16 years her junior. Of him, she said, "Erwin, who is a force of nature in his own right, has never been the least bit intimidated by my career, my talents, or my fame." In 2016, after a barrage of health problems, Tina's kidneys began to fail. A Swiss citizen by then, she had started preparing for assisted suicide when her husband stepped in. According to Tina, he said, "He didn't want another woman, or another life." He gave her one of his kidneys, buying her the remainder of her time on this earth and perhaps closing a cycle which took her from a man who inflicted injury upon her to a man willing to inflict injury upon himself to save her from harm. Born into a share-cropping family as Anna Mae Bullock in 1939, she died Tina Turner in a palatial Swiss estate: the queen of rock 'n roll; a storm of a performer with a wildcat-fierce voice; a dancer of visceral, spine-tingling potency and ability; a beauty for the ages; a survivor of terrible abuse and an advocate for others in similar situations; an author and actress; a devout Buddhist; a wife and mother; a human being of rare talent and perseverance who, through her transcendent brilliance, became a legend.

Credit: Will Stenberg

[monstersflashlight]

Here me out...scientists looking at fem!human lab rat getting fucked by a bunch of different monsters to study the different reactions of both the Monsters and the human 👀

We have serious mental issues guys...

Hi anon! We don't have mental issues, just great imagination.

When you applied for a job at a lab facility, you weren't expecting to be a monster's fleshlight. The job application specified absolutely nothing about it apart from saying you needed to be okay working with other species. And well, you were okay with that.

But the first day on the job, you found yourself being asked a bunch of weird questions, some of them very specific in its sexual nature. You didn't know what was happening, but you weren't too worried about it, what could happen? Maybe you should have asked.

When they finally explained to you that you'd be fucked by a bunch of different monsters and then you'd record a short video explaining how it felt and if you'd do it again, it was too late to back down. Not that you wanted to. You'd always been a bit of a freak, and seeing some other monsters at the facility only made you crave a different kind of experimentation. So it was like a match made in heaven. Or so you thought.

At first it was all good, they introduced you to the experiment with some aliens with a ridged dick and nice long fingers that made you come so many times you had to be helped back to your room after, your knees trembling and your pussy sore. The aliens were the same species as the scientists leading the research, and you wondered if he would join. He didn't the first day. They discovered you could be fucked multiple times by multiple dicks and still come.

The second day an orc and a minotaur appeared. Their dicks were pretty similar, and you had a great time riding both of them until you were filled to the brim over and over. That day they discovered that you could experiment what they called "cum inflation", your stomach distended because of the amount of cum shoot inside of you. You had to sit down and let the researcher finger everything out of you. He looked detached to it, but you came against his fingers once again.

The tentacle monster on the third day was fun. His big reproductive dick pushed into your hole as little tentacles played with your body. It was a weird sensation, but a good one. That day they discovered you could be stimulated at multiple points and that would make you come harder.

It continued like that for a few days, some monsters weird, some okay, but overall, it was such a great experience that the next day you were already dripping and hot when the werewolf entered. He stretched you with his claws and long tongue until you were crying out, just to push his fat dick inside of you until you were falling apart around him. Just to push his huge knot inside your dripping hole. You squirted all around him, making him laugh and a worried scientist come check on you.

The scientist could could have stopped everything that was happening, could have told the werewolf it was over... but instead he pinched your nipples as he pushed his alien dick in your mouth until you were gagging around him and his hips were fucking your face. It shouldn't have been as hot as it was. You came again, and again... And by the end of that session you were showered in alien and werewolf cum. You loved it.

They didn't discover anything that day, but you discovered your alien researcher had a bit of a thing for you, and he's like to explore it further.

Reminder that you can commission me (info here) or suscribe to my Patreon (info here). And that my second account is @whiskis