#idk why tumblr blurs it -_-

[foobars-cool-car]

most ethical it’s always sunny scheme

[spoondoodles]

So I recently got a hold of a copy of Pokemon Legends Arceus AND been playing the ttg Pokemon Legends of Sinnoh on Tabletop Simulator and needless to say I have some outfit design thoughts about the two games...

I'm just saying if Arceus speaks like some kind of fake Old English their 'chosen one' might as well look the part. Although I do like the diamond clan's little hoodies.

(first outfit inspired by the Diamond Clan of Legends Arceus but with Dialga colours, second outfit was me looking at Volo's handmade Arceus outfit and saying "I could do better".)

[instantpansies]

shit uhhh my blog's been marked as potentially mature bc i typed out the tag "nsfw" for a post. i did not end up tagging that post with nsfw, since the more appropriate tag is nudity/artistic nudity. i deleted the tag before posting. anyways afaik i do not have potentially mature content on my blog, sorry for any inconvenience this may cause. may submit a complaint idk

to be clear, i don't really care whether my blog is marked as mature, except that it's not true. my blog is sfw, and i don't want minors who are following me/mutuals with me to be blocked from viewing content or to assume i'm posting nsfw

[soulinesims]

happy birthday gilda-rose

[chaosbloot]

WIP and no... this isn't a photo of my tablet...

[tellthemhowihopetheyshouted]

the inexplicable desire for my post to get a lot of notes is frightening

[evajzcks]

shattering control ── tom riddle x reader

summary: tom gets in a fight for you for the first time and you help him clean his wounds

warnings: none? grumpy tom x sunshine reader

word count: idk but it is short

everything happened so fast. one moment, he was standing in the hallway, and the next, he was throwing punches at the guy who was trying to get your attention.

tom wasn’t an impulsive man. he never acted on impulse. everything he did was calculated, controlled, and with the intention of achieving something. but the moment he saw the discomfort on your face and the way the ravenclaw was grabbing your arm, he lost it.

“hey, I’m trying to talk to you,” you said when you noticed tom wasn’t listening to you.

“i’m listening,” tom muttered, still lost in his thoughts.

his hands were still shaking from adrenaline. when he closed his eyes, he could still see the red that blinded him the moment he lost control.

“you’re clearly not. otherwise, you would’ve sat on the bed already,” you said, rolling your eyes. “you’re just standing there like a creep.”

after tom finally came back to his senses, you brought him to your room and tried to clean his knuckles. but he just stood there, staring at his bloodied hands.

your relationship with tom wasn’t a secret to anyone. most of the time, the two of you were together after being paired up in defense against the dark arts class. it all started with silent study sessions in the library, both of you enjoying the other’s presence. then came lingering looks, followed by little touches here and there.

while you were energetic, bright, and talkative, tom was calm, controlled, and dark. yet somehow, your contrasting personalities seemed to complement each other perfectly.

“i was just thinking,” tom finally said after a moment, sitting on your bed and watching as you grabbed what looked like a first-aid kit.

“care to share your thoughts?” you asked, softly taking his hands and beginning to clean his wounds with care.

“i don’t know what happened to me,” he admitted quietly. the way you were tending to his hands, the fight, the blur in his head—it all felt too overwhelming.

tom hadn’t been raised with a family, nor had he ever cared about anyone but himself. that was, until you came into his life. now, the rage that consumed him when he saw the guy with you felt like it was tearing down the control he’d spent years mastering, along with the walls he’d built around his emotions.

“why don’t you use magic?” tom asked, watching you with a soft but puzzled expression. “it’s more efficient.”

“but it’s less caring,” you replied, kissing his hands gently. “and clearly, you feel something very strong for me, considering you just got into your first fight over a girl and almost killed a classmate.”

“if i acted with control, i probably would’ve done worse,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he noticed the smile tugging at your lips.

“oh yes, you would’ve hexed him!”

“worse…” he murmured, disgusted with his actions. if he’d waited, he might have ended up tossing a body into the black lake by now.

“he was bothering me, but you know you can’t just kill everyone, right?” you teased, starting to clean the small bruise on his lip. “i’ll kiss it better.”

“you’re mine, and people should know that,” tom said, pretending to be annoyed by the care you were giving him. “you’ve grown too soft.”

“and you’re grumpy,” you replied, placing a soft kiss on his lips and smiling slightly. “also, you can’t say I’m yours when you won’t even let me call you boyfriend.”

“don’t play with that, Y/N,” he said, gripping your hips firmly as he pulled you into his lap, his earlier worries long forgotten. “that term is too mundane. you know we’re past that.”

a/n: this is my first fanfic here on tumblr so let me know if you liked!!!!!!!! i might do a part two but this time longer 😞

[geolato]

a year and a bit too late maybe, but here you go, have a nun and a demon boy

please don't repost these anywhere thank youu

Extra!

(edit: idk wtf happened with this gif why is tumblr blurring her!!! let her shine in all her pixelated glory!!! istg)

[mythalism]

i think what people need to understand is that no amount of essays assuring me of veilguard's strengths, of which i agree there are plenty, is going to change the fact that the emotional experience veilguard prompted within me (and for many others) while i played it was a deeply negative one. discomfort at best, painful at worst. im talking stomach aches. visceral, somatic creeping disappointment and dread that i tried to fight for hours and hours but eventually had no choice but to accept. i stopped wanting to play entirely around 30 hours. i felt vaguely ill. i felt anxious. i could not sleep for a few days. and im not saying i felt sick because it was so bad, but that i felt sick because of the sinking realization that i was about to be terribly, horribly disappointed after so, so long. you could call me dramatic and im sure someone will. idk what to tell you. my emotions manifest physically long before they become decipherable or understandable to me mentally, especially when they're 10 years in the making. probably an autism symptom. regardless, it was genuinely pretty awful, especially because i had immense good faith for this game. i was so hopeful and optimistic and generally thrilled and literally anyone who followed me before october 31 would know that. the emotional whiplash and crash was intense and devastating, and i was reeling for days. you cannot tell me that this experience was "wrong" or "toxic" due to it's negative nature. it was entirely involuntary and outside of my control, as i would expect many people's joy was. emotional reactions are not beholden to fandom discourse.

any post i have made criticizing the game since is attempt to make sense of the emotional roller-coaster of the past 10 years, this summer, and finally this game's release. i do not come on here and write out my criticisms of veilguard because i want YOU to dislike it too. the nature of my essays are not persuasive. if they do persuade you its just because i am a well-trained essayist. sorry. if they dont, great! that wasnt the point. i have no desire to change anyone's mind on the game, in fact i actually would not wish the disappointment i felt on anyone. the fact that i have a lot of followers who agree with what i say and who spread the thoughts i express across tumblr is literally out of my control. when i write out my long-winded criticisms, it is out of a need to express and externalize that sinking, cold feeling i had while playing, in pursuit of understanding exactly why playing that game felt that way to me. identifying, analyzing and verbalizing is the only way i have been able to process my experience. its confessional and therapeutic more than anything. it helps other people understand their own difficult emotional process with the game. its not an attempt to ruin your fun. my negative experience with veilguard does not invalidate anyone else's positive one.

i see so many posts acting like all criticism is an intentional, targeted hate campaign and i dont understand that assumption. to what ends? what would that achieve? why would i bother with such a thing? maybe that is some people's intention in the deep hater corners of this website, and im blissfully unaware. if it is, fuck them. its certainly the intention of annoying grifters, but i feel the distinction between transphobe grifters and devastated fans is pretty clear, so im not sure why the lines are deliberately blurred as if those groups are remotely similar. some of my criticisms come from a more objective place. the writing comes to mind, and it's a consistent criticism from thousands of players. but just because i consider it to be poorly executed, does not make it unlovable. and when i say that i think its poorly done, i am not saying that you cannot or should not love it, or that you are stupid for loving it. maybe someone out there is saying that!!! but i am not. things do not have to be perfect to be enjoyable. they dont even have to be well executed to be enjoyable. "i think x aspect of veilguard is poorly done for yz reasons" is a completely different sentence than "you should not like x aspect of veilguard for yz reasons". these are not the same statements. i see so many posts that are so vitriolic and acting like two experiences of this game cannot coexist, that one has to win and be objectively right, moralizing them on a false axis of positivity = good and negativity = bad, and acting like the existence of one negates the experience of the other. and why? why would that be true? i literally love so many things that other people think are absolute ass. i also love plenty of things that i myself think are actual ass. i love them anyway. this is allowed and really fun. i am not sure who told you that it is not.

however, i have just as much of a right to express my disappointment as you have to express your excitement. i am genuinely happy for everyone who loves the game, i am glad it resonated, or that you saw yourself in its characters, or that it just scratched your hyperfixation itch. but whatever je ne se quoi it had for you, it did not have for me. i have written out so much criticism about so many aspects of the game, but fundamentally what it comes down to and what i cannot express in words is that while i played after waiting 10 years for that moment, it felt wrong. it wasn't that i had specific expectations for game story that were not met, in fact, it exceeded my expectations in a lot of ways. i mean that in terms of how i felt, something was off. it did not resonate. it did not land. it did not hit the right cord with me. i did not have enough moments of joy to outweigh the feeling of emptiness. i did not walk away from it feeling the way that the previous games made me feel. and ive been trying to figure out exactly why that is for three months now by talking about it with people who feel similarly. i am not sure that i will ever be able to analyze my way into figuring it out. it might just have to simply be that it left me bereft.

and so my posts are not anti-veilguard hater propaganda to make you feel like shit for loving the game. rather, they are me verbally processing exactly why i feel like shit so i can hopefully stop feeling like shit. to assume that people who are trying to process these negative feelings are toxic and intentionally malicious is a projection made in bad faith. i love dragon age, and it is because i love it so much that it disappointed me, and it is because disappointed me that i have to verbally process it on tumblr.com so that i dont go absolutely insane. i tag my posts properly. i do not go into tags where i do not belong. i do not rage-bait. i am participating in post-partum dragon age therapy between me and my followers. if it ends up on your dash, sorry. my therapy is popular i guess. so please for the love of god enjoy the game, freely and enthusiastically. i am happy for you. i will sit here and be jealous that it spoke to something in your soul that it unfortunately did not speak to in mine, and nothing i say can take that away from you. please stop interpreting it as an attempt to.

[mrderofcr0ws]

HEADLOCK

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

that was the name written on a gravestone in brooklyn with no body below it since the sergeant had been pronounced dead in 1945.

the body that once belonged to that name was now hydra's most prized possession— but the winter soldier was not the only danger locked away down in the remote siberian facility. you were there, too. a monster made from horrors most refused to believe could be real.

two trained killing machines.

one bound to commands and trigger words.

the other bound to instinct and bloodlust.

it had been a long time since either of you had seen the sun. you could get out with his help in the brief, painful moments of clarity he had. when he answered to that long forgotten name, you could escape together.

but bucky was often buried under that brooklyn headstone-and the winter soldier who slept in the bunk below you nearly every night was a danger to even you.

this is a fic that explores bucky's time in hydra. the content warnings are as follows: torture, manipulation, angst, pain, psychological horror, graphic descriptions and language, poetic comparisons to cannibalism, hurt with minimal comfort at times, stockholm syndrome, smut, degrading, power imbalance, canon divergence. 18+ fic.

bucky x fem!reader (you have a given name in this fic for the sake of making writing easier, but it will be used sparingly)

word count: idk i write on tumblr. (roughly edited)

<- previous part

PART TWO —

— KEEPING AN EYE

you hit him hard enough to hurt.

if you didn’t, someone else would.

and you couldn’t let that happen.

if anyone were to draw blood from his veins, it would be you. only you understood what it meant to make the winter soldier bleed. only you understood the importance of his blood. as you kicked him across the face, it kept him out of that god forsaken chair.

it kept his mind in one piece though you split his lip in two.

“jackass,” he hissed, cupping his mouth. he spit out red and it splattered across the sparing mat.

what a waste…

stop it.

“c’mon, winter.” you raised your hands and shifted your weight, watching each and every move he made.

he was slow this morning.

slow enough to draw the attention of those who sat inside the observatory box above you. the dark glass was almost a mirror. it blurred the shadows of the people inside— but you could feel them watching.

they were always watching.

everywhere except your bedroom, they were always keeping their eyes on the two of you. guards by the doors. cameras with blinking red lights, recording every second of your day. always being watched. always being tested and studied.

the winter soldier swung at you— but your reflexes were as fast as his. maybe faster.

whatever they had concocted in the bottle your abilities came out of made you a lethal machine of blood and bone. you could smell blood from miles away. you could crush bone between your teeth. you could hear the faintest of sounds. you could track trails that had been cold and dead a long time.

but you were impulsive.

hot-headed and volatile.

that is why they paired you with him.

he was exactly what he was supposed to be.

a weapon.

a weapon they had no problem deploying against you to keep you from biting back at the hands that made you.

the winter soldier uppercut you with that hard metal fist.

you stumbled back, catching yourself with your arms spread out. you spit out a tooth. a bloody red smile curled across your lips— and the tooth you lost was replaced by a new one in an instant.

the guards lining the room gripped their guns as they watched the two of you spar.

that was too gentle of a word to call what transpired on that mat.

it was war.

it was rage and blood and pain.

you swung yourself around him like a spider as he tried to pin you in a headlock. he hissed through blood stained teeth as you choked him with your legs. he roared like a feral animal.

you braced yourself as he slammed you both down onto the hard, cold mat. air escaped your lungs in a violent gasp. the two of you grappled for control.

he always had to have it.

and that vibranium arm made it easy to grasp.

he felt no pain.

no matter how hard you bit down, your teeth would break before the metal did. he pinned you down onto the mat by your face, hard metal fingers digging into your cheeks.

“yield,” he rasped.

you swung your legs up and caught his shoulders. twisting like an alligator, you rolled the two of you. you jammed your knee down into his throat, gasping for breath. that metal hand still encased your mouth.

‘yield!’ your eyes demanded.

“no mercy.”

the voice that came from the speakers above froze you both in place on the mat as it echoed across the room.

for a moment, all you did was stare at each other.

and then it was blood and pain and war again.

the winter soldier kicked you off of him in one fluid strike. you hit the mat hard. landing on your side, your ribs took the blow. fire encased your side and you scrambled to get up.

but he was already above you.

he grabbed you by your hair and pulled you onto your knees. you struggled to fight off the hold he had on you— but once that cold metal arm slid around your throat and he hoisted you up, it was over.

you choked as he dangled you inches above the ground. you tried to claw at his face but your hands kept flying back up around the hard metal to pry yourself free. the bruises on your neck made the pain worse. he crushed your throat in the bend of his elbow and leaned back, restricting any and all airflow you could get.

you tappped— but he did not let you go.

he couldn’t.

no mercy.

the edges of your vision began to blur. you could hear his breath fade in and out as he struggled to hold you still. your hands dropped from his arm, nails cracked and red with blood. when your head fell back against his shoulder, the lights went red.

“mercy.”

the winter soldier lowered you to the ground and placed you down on the mat. he stepped away as two guards swarmed you. he licked the blood off his lip and watched as they injected you in the thigh with a large, sharp needle.

you shot forward and let out a strangled, broken scream as adrenaline shot through your veins.

you grabbed one of the guards by the throat and dragged him in an instant onto the floor below you. the other guard shot you before you could tear at the padding protecting his throat.

you winced as the dart stuck into your arm.

you plucked it out and tossed it aside. you wobbled as the sleeping agent calmed the rage of adrenaline. the guard shoved you off and you hit the mat face first. blood smeared across your cheek as you landed in the puddle of it.

his blood.

you parted your lips and breathed in through your mouth, catching the faint taste of it in the air. a soft cry escaped you. you fought against the heaviness of your eyelids as you crawled across the mat. blood streaked along the dirty floor as you pulled yourself through it.

when you finally blacked out, you did so with your hand curled around the laces of his boot.

the winter soldier looked down at you. he nudged you with his foot but you did not move. those slender fingers stayed curled around his laces. laying there beside him face down on the mat, you looked nothing like a weapon— a heartless killer.

you looked like a woman.

he bent down lifted you off the ground like a groom would his bride— and he carried you off the mat without looking back at the box above.

— ☆ —

the good thing about getting your ass kicked was the medicine.

they drugged you up good when the bruises on your neck turned black and blue. that was the second time in only a handful of hours that he choked you. you were in for a rough couple days. it was hard to swallow and you were glad of it.

they gave you as much blood as you wanted.

they let you poke a straw straight into one of the spare blood bags they had stocked up for moments like this. you sipped it like a juice box, your feet propped up as you watched old black and white cartoons in the medical bed you were strapped into by the waist.

he sat beside you.

in an rickety wooden chair with his arms crossed against his chest, he had little interest in the cartoon. he watched the way you licked the dark red blood off your lips and sucked it off your teeth. he watched the way the corner of your lip would twitch into a slight smile when something was funny to you.

tv was a privilege so rarely gifted.

so was a smile from you.

you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

you should’ve been used to him staring at you by now. it had been decades now of you two staring at each other. most people were gray and wrinkled in that amount of time. married with kids and grandbabies to spoil.

marriage would never be possible for either of you.

you didn’t want to marry him, anyways.

you didn’t want to marry anyone.

you didn’t want him to marry anyone.

ever.

yet your face burned the longer he stared.

“spit it out,” you rasped through a weak, crushed windpipe.

he rolled the word on his tongue before spitting it out at you. his voice was too gruff. “sorry…”

“i don’t like when you say sorry.” you sighed. you focused on the cartoon, finding yourself less and less interested in the moving pictures. “just…just cut it out…”

“i am sorry, isla.”

the blood bag burst and splattered red across the whole of him as you threw it at his head.

you bared your teeth in a wicked, feral scowl whilst he sat as still as stone. blood dripped off his face and pooled on the chair as it slipped off his gear.

“don’t.” you hissed through your teeth.

with great restraint, the winter soldier wiped the blood from his eyes— except it wasn’t him. not really.

he was not alone in those deep, blue eyes.

you watched as he stood up and felt panic arise in you. your were trapped. you were strapped down to the bed with no way to free yourself— but the tension dropped from your shoulders and you uncurled your hands from around the sheets as he turned up the volume on the tv.

your heart skipped a beat as he reached above and turned the camera away.

“what are you doing?” you asked in a whisper as he approached. you were gripping the sheets again.

“you have a mess to clean up, no?”

you couldn’t tell who was speaking to you now. who was looking at you as he sat down beside you. he spoke like winter. he stared like him, too. cold and calculated.

but the way he spoke.

the way he spoke was different.

you winced as he kissed you.

it did not hurt in the slightest but you braced yourself as though you expected it to. you braced yourself for his hand at your throat.

his hand did touch you— but it was not the metal one.

his warm, calloused fingers caught your chin between their tips as he kissed you slowly.

your lips parted and your tongue swiped across his mouth, cleaning him of the blood you so rudely threw at him. your heart pounded with every sound outside the door. it wouldn’t be long before they realized he had turned the camera.

you had been caught doing worse with winter before.

but you were not kissing him now.

bucky savored the way each messy kiss felt on his face. it made him smile. spots you would clean of blood would cover him again in lipstick-like marks all over his pale face. you couldn’t help yourself.

blood and kisses— two things that disarmed you.

you swiped your finger along his jaw, catching the blood stuck in thick, un-fallen droplets. he watched you lick your finger clean.

to winter, it would’ve been arousing.

to you, it almost was.

to him, it was intimate.

bucky swiped his thumb across your lips. you were turning into more of a mess than he was. a soft tremble rattled through his frame as you sucked away the blood on his thumb.

“taste good?” he asked in a whisper.

“not as good as you.” you murmured, nipping at the tip of his thumb.

it wasn’t exactly true. his blood had no appeal in the sense that it quenched your thirst. it never did. you could not feel satiated on his blood alone.

but you loved the taste of it because it was him.

the door swung open and guns cocked, red lasers trained to the weakest parts of you both. one shot with the bullets in those guns would kill you. you both turned your heads as the guards parted and the head captain stepped into the room.

bucky was quick to stand and fall in.

you bared your teeth, a strangled growl slipping through them as he bashed bucky across the face with his gun.

bucky kept his head down.

the head captain walked across the room and positioned the camera back to the way it was supposed to be. a clear view of you on the bed. of him beside you in his chair— but they did not let him sit back down.

they did not let him stay.

and they did not let you watch tv again.

— ☆ —

it was weeks before you saw him.

they kept you from each other as punishment for the little stunt he pulled— and to make sure you recovered from your injury without any hiccups.

you two were prone to…roughhousing…and they couldn’t risk you worsening in any way.

once you could swallow real foods and the swelling in your throat went down, they let you out of the infirmary. you hated being there. that bed was uncomfortable. those lights were too bright. the smell of sterile alcohol and bleach made you feel sick.

the sound of him screaming made you feel sick, too.

they brought you into the lab bound in chains from head to toe with that metal muzzle over your mouth and forced you to stand in front of him. white froth spewed from his mouth around the black plastic bite they shoved between his teeth. the blood vessels in his eyes began to burst as he strained against the pain.

“longing.”

you turned your head at the sound. behind you, one of the doctors held that red notebook with the star. you curled your hands into fists and grit your teeth together.

they weren’t punishing him.

they were preparing him.

“rusted.”

he screamed around the bite in his mouth, shaking like a seizure patient within the chair. the veins in his head threatened to burst. his hips bucked wildly as if he were trying to stand— trying to escape.

you fought the urge to step forward.

no matter how valuable you were, they’d shoot you.

you’d be dead before you hit the ground.

“seventeen.”

you knew what each word meant. you had learned them over the last four decades as you watched them break him apart and reconstruct him.

they wanted you to know them in case you needed to put him back in his place.

longing— for his old life.

rusted— for his arm.

seventeen— the year he’d been born. 1917.

“daybreak.”

he groaned in agony as the tremors worsened. every vein in his body was protruding out of his skin. tears dripped from his unblinking eyes as sweat slipped down his face.

daybreak.

it was a taunt.

a jab at him.

at you, even.

you couldn’t remember the last time either of you had seen the sun. they dispatched you at night. neither of you had felt the sun on your skin in a long, long time.

“furnace!” the doctor shouted over his cries.

that’s where they threatened to throw him if he disobeyed. they’d burn him to nothing. they’d destroy him entirely.

“nine!”

nine for the date 1945.

the year he’d been pronounced dead.

“benign!”

that is how they saw the part of him they wanted weakened.

they wanted bucky barnes to be nothing more than a benign piece of his past.

“homecoming!”

this carefully picked set of words would bring their prize weapon home no matter how hard he fought against them.

“one!”

a weapon with one mission.

“freight car!”

the train.

his demise.

the death of james buchanan barnes.

the machine whirred as it powered down. the locks that held him in place unclicked and unlatched from around him. the steam wafting off him from how hot he’d become under all that strain fogged the air. his bloodshot eyes were void of all and any bit of emotion as he stood.

guards drew their guns and aimed them at his chest.

but there was no need for such a thing.

“ready to comply,” he rasped, his voice raw.

you stumbled as the guard holding the leash of heavy chain handed you over in one rough, unkind movement.

the winter soldier glanced at you.

though they wiped him clean, he could never forget you. you were too ingrained in his program. he went no where without you— and you nowhere without him.

but he was as unfeeling as the metal arm he looped the chain to your collar around. with a small tug, you stepped to his side. a well trained beast. you did not need words or pain to make you fall in.

you only needed fear of the winter soldier.

and that is something you felt down to the marrow of your bones.

you feared him like a child feared the monster under their bed— the way the guards feared you.

but you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

the two of you walked down the quiet, cold hallways with guards in front of and behind you. the collar around your neck was offensive to the leftover bruises, but you ignored it. it’s not as though you could tell anyone it bothered you, anyways.

the metal muzzle kept you from making a sound.

the dark, stuffy room you two were brought to was familiar. you sat down in your respective seats — two desks beside each other — and stared at the blank white screen ahead. a soft click echoed behind you and light shot out from the projector.

“this,” the head captain said as he pointed to the picture on the projector screen. “is shield agent nicholas fury.”

the image of the man with one eye on the screen was one of the clearest pictures you had ever seen. and it was in color.

you glanced at him as he glanced at you. you both wondered how long it had been since the last time you were awake if they had such high quality colored pictures these days.

“he has become a top agent in shield’s ranks and he has fallen onto our red list. he knows too much about the weapons we build. weapons designed to harness the power of the tesseract— and we fear shield has begun searching for it, too,” said the head captain.

“we want him gone.”

you sat back in your chair and rested your hands in your lap. it had been a long, long time since you were dispatched to assassinate a member of shield. nearly three sleeps ago, if you could remember correctly.

it was the most dangerous kind of job.

you turned your head to meet his gaze. he had the same lazy look in his eye that you did.

you were both pitifully unamused.

hydra had such a bad habit of leaving messes for you two to clean up— but at least it meant you’d be free of this hell-hole for a while.

“tell us where to find him and we will put an end to him.” the winter soldier said lowly.

you stuck out your hands, jiggling the chains. your eyes crinkled at the edges in a wicked, devilish smile.

the winter soldier shared that same smile as he watched them strip you of your cuffs, your chains, and your collar.

you both had a job to do.

and neither of you were intent on letting the name nick fury mean anything for a moment longer.

hope you enjoyed. next part ->

[9fang]

genuienly started tweaking out when i saw the poppy playtime tape wehre a kid falls into the dough because first of all,,,

the railings are too high and far away from the pots for the kid to be able to " fall " in, so someone either pushed him ( unlikely ) or he jumped. ALSO his doll wouldnt have blood on it because theres nothing in that play dough that wouldve involved blood.

the dough is stirred around by most likely flat and solid pans, which probably dont reach the bottom of the container, so yes, he couldve drowned but why was there blood and immediate blurring of the video?? the only way he couldve died was if he spun around and drowned eventually which didnt happen because everyone reacted immediately.

now from inferencing how fast the stirring was and the fact that it was being stirred, the dough was molten hot. So the cause of his death was probably from burns ( depending on how long he was in there, or if he died from impact )

the wiki is vague and says he died from falling in the molten playdough ,, but then why was there blood on his toy??? he was too far from the vats of dough so he didnt fall, it wasnt an accident, its not logical.

this tape kind of makes me confused, so i dont think he fell, maybe he got pulled inside??? idk i just started watching it and my bf isnt here to talk to so i have to tell tumblr about this because im a loser

[areswasneverhere]

romᥲᥒᥴᥱ oᥒ thᥱ sιdᥱ

i’ve never used tumblr, idk how to make this look nice-

Summary: Sam finds a part-time job to make a living and meets a sweet coworker who steals all his time and his heart.

Pairings: Fast food worker!Sam Winchester x coworker!reader. Set right before season 1, therefore Stanford!Sam. coworkers to lovers kinda. f!reader. height difference. Finally glasses wearing!reader.

warnings: fluff, use of (y/n), brief mention of body insecurity, not edited

word count: 3.6 k

-this is my first real oneshot because i haven't written fics in so long, bare with me and give me advice or comment. i love love this community so pls do mwah <3

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study, work, sleep. that's all you do at this point in your life. after moving out of your shitty household, away from your family to finally have the independence you always craved.however, you didn't expect this freedom to get you to be working the night shift in a fast food place on the side of the road, near your college dorms just to make 10 bucks an hour. your mother called it “honest work”, you called it bullshit. 

the days blurred together; class, work, study, sleep – if barely 4 hours counted as sleep. you wake up at six, chug coffee (that never seemed strong enough), sit through lectures half-conscious, clock into a job you hate, go home, repeat. it's mundane, but you told yourself that this was adult life now. it's the freedom you had been craving right? so you didn't complain.

you thanked your lucky star every day that your parents begrudgingly paid for your studies. not many had that. they worked harder than ever to continue to pay for your tuition, extra hours and all. deep down, it made you feel kind of bad. it's one of the reasons why you signed up for that stupid job you hate anyway. to help them in any way you could, because you could see the dirty looks they gave you every time they paid for your studies. you hated being codependent so might as well show them you're not a complete disappointment.

after finishing your studies, you put on the flashy yellow polo shirt with the bland logo on your left pec; unconsciously tugging at its mid section that highlight the squish of your body in ways that make you feel uncomfortable. you scoot into your jeans and reach for your glasses on the nightstand, putting them on comfortably on your nose bridge. let's get this show on the road.

and sam, poor sam, he on the other hand was stressed the fuck out. he wasnt supposed to be here, he was supposed to be buried nose deep in law text books. or spending his nights in the library. maybe to prove to himself - or to his dad - when this was all over that he was still useful and independent like a normal person. but sam was far from normal and that was clear.

“you think life’s hard, sammy? Try hunting things that wanna rip you apart.” either his brother or dad would have said, but he didnt care. he wanted a family, but he didn't have the luxury of it. instead he was standing under the flickering fluorescent lights of the fast food joint he found to work, wearing a name tag with a name that barely felt like his own; ‘sam winchester’. 

sure he was far from home, far from the stress of his family but deep down he still felt like he was running. running from what? maybe his responsibilities. no. it wasn't his responsibility to pick up after his father. 

he wasn't looking forward to being the new guy at work, once again having to be thrown into something he'd just have to adapt to. but it wasnt so bad. he had friends in his university, the same one you happened to go to. he had jess, brady, zach, and luis. it wasn't all bad. he bet zach would have a laugh if he saw how ridiculous he looked in this awful uniform. 

his boss was talking, but he was barely listening, his thoughts too clouded by sleep as they walk down the backrooms of the restaurant and towards the kitchen. where coincidentally, you just walked into. and oh boy the moment he spots you, its like a breath of fresh air, you looked around the same age as him and just as tired. maybe he wouldn't be such a sore thumb in this new job after all. 

you clock into work, waving at your coworkers with a polite smile like you always do. according to your boss, this friendly nature and facade was one of the reasons you were always ‘employee of the month’; you almost scoff at the idea. you, a student doing the bare minimum to survive got you this title. It really shows how shitty this joint is, how little effort the employees put in. this ‘hard earned’ title is also the reason why you spot your boss and a tall young man wearing the employee uniform standing by his side walking towards you with purpose.

“(y/n), we've got a new employee joining our team. As an employee of the month, i want you to train him and show him the ropes, alright? good luck” he says without a breach for protest or a reply. you stand there for a few seconds, rather awkwardly as you and the pretty boy in front of you stare at each other. you push up your glasses, pursing your lips ever so slightly as you think of something to say. this was never asked of you, you were used to just keeping your head down and doing your job, now you were being asked to train a new employee. that's fine.

 “Hi.” he greets first, extending his hand politely. this act made your shoulders relax, the warm tone in his voice was enough to break the awkward silence. you are quickly drawn to his eyes, sweet, puppy dog green-brown eyes. it was actually overwhelming as you instinctively look him up and down. 

you clear your throat, jerking your hand forward and grasping his hand; shaking it ever so slightly. you hear him let out a quiet chuckle, your cheek flare in embarrassment as you realize he's laughing at your awkwardness. but it isn't mocking, it's genuinely sweet. “hi! uh-so…im (y/n)” you finally cut through the silence you allowed to linger for far too long.

“sam” he replies kindly, so kindly it made you want to squish him. cuteness aggression. “you'll…train me?” he adds, eyes darting down to your still joined hands. but he didn't pull away, surprisingly enough, but you do as to maintain professionalism even though every inch of you was begging for you to just hold this cute boy's hand. 

“yup, thats what – yeah thats what im here to do – yes.” you stutter out, scolding yourself internally for acting like this. it made you feel like a weirdo. this boy walks into your life, and within a few minutes makes you feel nervous. you love it. “come” you add, swiftly, turning on your heels and walking down towards the staff down near the back of the building just for some basic instructions to get him on his feet.

the next 2 hours were actually fun. he made training feel like bonding rather than work. you help him with the basics; food safety, customer service, register training, efficiency, all the things that keep this crappy fast food joint up and running like the good employee you are. you two manage to talk so much about your lives during that time, that you don't think you've laughed that much in forever. 

you wipe down the counters, the restaurant’s flow of customers slowing down just enough for you to do a general sweep of the kitchen and keep up with the health and safety protocols bestowed upon you. your wrist starts to hurt as you wipe down the counter next to the grill, eyes darting to sam as he readies to cook more of the burgers, which you had taught him to do. “this job is gonna kill me” you mutter, half joking and gently rolling your wrist around as it starts to get sore from all the effort being put into wiping the single smudge of grease on the counter. “feels like ill spend my entire life here, like i aint moving forward, you know?”

sam exhales a laugh, his hand pausing their movements on the grill as he takes in your words. he knew exactly how that felt, its how he used to feel every day living with his dad and brother. more his dad. john winchester was never known for being warm. “yeah, i get that.” he agrees, pausing for a beat to think. “i guess im just used to it, you know. moving, working, not really having the time for – you know, a life” 

his words piqued your interest, putting the dirty rag in the water bucket to pay full attention to him. “yeah? how come?”

“my family business.” he shrugs lightly but it felt forced. “my dad mostly. he had me and my brother in the…hunting business since we were little, town to town, never settling down.” he scrapes crumbles of dried burger buns from the counter absentmindedly, thoughts consuming his head. “this whole…stanford thing is probably the longest i've settled down without him breathing down my neck”

his tone makes your heart clench, though you've only met today, it felt like you knew this boy more than most of the people in this job and your university combined. to be fair, you didn't meet many people. you walk over to the side of the kitchen, sounds of cutlery and pots banging in the background seemed to fade with the importance of your conversation. “thats why you got this job?” you ask cautiously

“yeah. mostly. i just wanted to do something normal.” he confessed, shifting on his feet and following your activity by grabbing the spatula sitting by the grill and going back to what he was practicing previously; flipping patty’s. “no hunting, no family to worry about…even if its –” he gestures to the air around us, glaring at the fluorescent lights above. “this. even if it kind of sucks” you stifle a chuckle, knowing he was right. it surprised you how much this boy and you were alike but also so different. it was a breath of fresh air. 

you felt like you already knew a lot about him, not all the details, but enough to make you want to dig up more. he was struggling to flip a burger with the spatula. you were watching in amusement by the side of the room, admiring him as he sticks his tongue out and attempts to wedge the spatula under the patty one more time before giving up. “here, let me help” you call out loudly enough for him to hear you but not loud enough to be annoying; the unconscious insecurity of being heard after all. you reach him in a quick few steps, standing beside him and placing a gentle hand on top of his holding the tool.

with practiced precision, you help him push the spatula under the meat patty and swiftly flip it over. your eyes are locked on the food in front of you, not realizing the intimate position you've put both of you in. “ah yes, the mighty spatula is rather hard to work with” you muse lightheartedly, earning a laugh from Sam above you which sends a sense of pride through you.

“this is a weapon i cannot handle” he replies back in the same tone, playing along with you as you work the food for him. your grip on his hand was comforting, warm. it was rare for him to allow this kind of physical contact, but it just felt right with you. and you felt the same. 

by the time you realized the position you were in, it made your heart skip a beat. eyes slowly wander up, finally taking in the prominent height difference between the two of you. your eyes meet and it just feels so sweet, warm. a flicker of understanding passes through the two of you, a desire to want to be around each other without fear of judgement or embarrassment. you remember the words he said earlier, feeling the need to speak, you do. “for what its worth, i think its impressive. your independence…and you're not half-bad at flipping burgers” you tease affectionately which sparks another genuine chuckle from him. 

sam feels the tension on his shoulders melt away. “yeah you think so?” he purred. 

“no, you still suck. but you’re getting there” you reply playfully, both of you laughing together. your eyes catch a smudge of ketchup on his cheek, you had no idea how it got there but you instinctively reach to wipe the condiment from his cheek with your other hand.

it makes him flinch for a split second, making you pause. but then he leans into your palm, your thumb continuing its previous motion and wiping the ketchup from his cheek ever so gently. your hand lingers for longer than necessary, but he doesn’t seem to mind. the smile on his lips growing wider, seemingly excited. it makes your face burn and you pull away, dropping both your hands to your side.

you slowly peel yourself from him, letting out a hearty laugh and fixing the tacky uniform; tugging at its collar as the air around the two of you seems to shift. sam’s eyes cast down for a split second, seeming almost disappointed that you had pulled away. “thanks” he mutters back, eyes back at you. he refused to look away, drawn to you so suddenly as if you were everything he ever needed. 

but before either of you can acknowledge what was happening, you smell fire and hear sizzling. your gaze falls on the patty, gasping as you see it burst into small flames. sam yelps and instinctively pulls away from the grill, waving the spatula around before both of your gazes fall on the fire extinguisher. 

“shit!” you hiss, taking a few steps back from the grill. he acts faster than you, reaching for it while you stand there wide-eyed. WHOOSH. the fire extinguisher goes off loudly, covering everything. by everything, you mean everything. the fire, the grill, and you. the fire was gone but so was the meat we were preparing and your uniform covered in white foam.

that was until the boss burst into the kitchen, looking pissed off but mostly worried for us. “what the hell is going on here?!” he shouts, rightfully so, to be honest, you think. his eyes fall on the charred patty, the grill and you covered in foam while sam holds the extinguisher like a weapon. 

you look over at sam to gauge a reaction out of him just to see him already looking at you. a crack of a smile breaks his look of fear, your face mirrors his until you both break into quiet chuckles. these chuckles grow into belly laughs as you lose it, sam places the fire extinguisher on the floor as you laugh at the idiotic situation you found yourselves in. 

you two didn't get into nearly as much trouble as you thought you would, it just put a microscopic stain on your reputation as an employee and put sam to a bad start. but it seemed to be alright with both of you as you walked back to the dorms of Stanford together at about 7pm.

the night was chilly, grey clouds coating the skies as you two walk side by side in comfortable silence. the moment he found out you go to the same university, he offered to walk you to your dorm building and you agreed without hesitation. skip out on this cute guy walking you? no way.

“i swear my feet are so tired, if one more person asked for extra pickles i was gonna lose it…” you murmur under your breath, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips which sparks a softer one from him almost in agreement. “today was so busy, how are you not exhausted?” you ask, adding onto your previous statement. 

he shrugs ever so slightly, grinning down at you with a bashful expression. “guess im just built different” he muses, you bump your hip with his in return. “or maybe i just wasn't running around as much as you were, you were all like-” he mimics your stressed-out movements, working in an imaginary station which makes you playfully roll your eyes. 

you nudge him with your elbow, biting back a soft grin. “hey, i'm not the rookie here, rookie” you emphasize, he elbows you back in return, his laugh is louder this time. the both of you were internally over the moon; proud you could make each other laugh like this not knowing the other was simply happy with the company.

it was like neither of you wanted to reach your dorms, steps trailing slower than normal. the silence between you two seemed to stretch out comfortably - but you decided to break it. “so stanford?” you ask calmly, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your jacket. well, his jacket. the one he insisted you wear after he sprayed you with cold foam.

sam exhales, “well, i needed to get away from my family in some way. where i ended up didn't matter as much” he replied, eyes casting down at the ground as you walk.

“i can understand. your dad doesn't seem like the supportive home-y type” you sympathize, recalling the few things he mentioned about his dad back at the diner. this makes him deflate, guilt stinging your chest as you realize you might have pried too much. “hey, im sorry–” you add quickly, placing a comforting hand on his bicep

to your surprise, he leans into your touch, like hes been carrying this weight for too long. “no, you're okay.” he murmurs. “you're right. my dad isn't really the homey type” he agrees, eyes finally darting from the ground, up at you. well, down at you, again considering the man was a giant.

for a moment, he hesitates as if debating whether to keep going. wondering if you would even care. but the look in your eyes said you would. “my brother…wanted me to stay.” he mutters again, eyes staying locked in yours as you walk. ”i don't think he even knows if i’m alive.” he admits. for a moment it felt like you were the only person he could confide in and vice versa.

“you know…it's so easy to talk to you” sam adds warmly. you could sense the nervousness but genuine interest flowing from him like waves. your hand drops from his arm, brushing against his hand with a feather-like touch for a split second. that split second felt like fire, welcoming fire. 

your nose crinkles ever so slightly at his words, pride and relief rushing through you at his reassuring words. you felt…excitement and triumph. the way he looks at you, his touches and his warmth are all signs that maybe, just maybe, this cute co-worker of yours actually likes you. and before you knew it, you were standing under the arched entryway of your dorm building.

you stop by the entry doors, turning your back to them and facing sam with a grateful smile. he returns it shyly, boldly taking your hands in his. his thumbs run across your knuckles, committing their soft surfaces to memory. he brings your hands to his lips, placing a lingering kiss on them. “thanks for letting me walk you…” he mutters, his voice blending in perfectly with the atmosphere. the crickets, the almost nonexistent breeze of the night.

“you're always welcome to do so” you reply, keeping the intense eye contact from before. you feel the thumping of your heart, growing louder and louder.

“i guess i'll see you tomorrow?...” he continues after a few moments of silence. your palms were clammy but you felt emboldened by his words, placing your hands on his shoulder and using it as leverage to reach his cheek. you hesitate for a few seconds but press up on your toes and brush a quick, warm kiss on his left cheek. his skin was so warm under your lips, you almost didn't want to pull away. but when you do, his eyes are wide with wonder as if he wasn't expecting it but it definitely wasn't unwelcome. 

“...tomorrow” you agree under your breath, slowly pulling your hands from his and stepping back. your hands fumble behind you as you reach for the door knob without looking away from him. the way his uniform hugged his arms, the way it dipped to show the smallest patch skin just below his collar. you wanted to remember it all night. “night sam…” you call out, finally opening the door and stepping into the building. 

sam steps back, eyes lingering on your figure as you walk into the building. a soft sigh escapes his lips, a breath he didn't know he was holding this entire time. it dawned upon him that maybe this whole experience didn't have to be forced. maybe work won't be completely unbearable, not when nights with you like this exist. and little did he know, you felt the same. 

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[ksen-noodles]

Re: a mess of a PSA going around

Guys it was a problem in moutwashng fandom and maybe stardw vley I GUESS. why's it all over the place now..... the post isn't even good or informative and the peak of hearsay...........

Tumblr blurs pictures in askbox for a REASON ppl can just delete and move on.... idk... the

por n bot plague wasn't all that long ago...

[goquokka00]

Rocking Around the Christmas Tree (A Bangchan X Changbin X Hyunjin---

WAITTTT!

So, before you read this...um...masterpiece, if that's what you wanna call it...I think I need to explain...whatever this is.

So, every week, me and my two roommates hang out with each other. Play video games, make absolute cursed covers of Stray Kids songs (because I'm slowly indoctrinating them into the Stray Kids Fandom), and do silly goofy challenges.

That is what this is.

Pretty much, we thought it'd be fun to write a threesome smut because 1, they both know that I write smut for Tumblr, and 2, we joke about the three of us being in a relationship and fucking all the time. But, we added a small twist.

You see, we each got 20 minutes to write our parts of the story. And once 20 minutes was up, the only thing the next person got to read was the last paragraph. That was the only context they had, and they had to use that to continue the story.

Yeah. Chaotic.

Well, my two roommates thought it'd be HILARIOUS if we took that smut that we wrote, slapped three Stray Kids members onto it, and called it a day. They pretty much wanted to see how people would react to it, and such.

So, that's what I'm doing.

I know it's not my usual content, and it's, um...really random. Also Hyunjin has a cunt for some reason? Roommate's request. But I figured it'd be a fun little thing for all of you. So I hope you enjoy...um...this.

Rocking Around the Christmas Tree (A Bangchan X Changbin X Hyunjin Smut?)

Summary: Honestly, I wish I had an answer. It's something silly goofy me and my roomies did, and now it's Stray Kids?

Pairing: Bangchan X Changbin X Hyunjin

Genre: Smut. Literally, just smut.

Warnings: Boy Pussy! Hyunjin, switch! Chan, switch! Changbin, use of toys (ball gag, three way dildo, vibrating butt plug), oral sex (blow job and cunnilingus), deep throating, traumatizing strangers (not actually, you'll get it), squirting, Chan and Hyunjin get shoved through window, a bit of blood, literally anything else that I forgot that's probably in there, idk man, this entire thing has just been a blur, 100% 18+ (seriously like if you're a minor don't read, I really don't wanna scar you with this pls and thank you <3)

Word Count: 1.7K

(My Part) Changbin and Hyunjin couldn't believe their eyes. This gift that Chan got them both was just...whoa.

It was christmas, well...roomie christmas. And so far, all of the presents had been decent until now. They both knew that Chan had a creative mind, and that he had suggested getting a toy like this, but...they weren't expecting him to have actually found one.

"You...You actually bought a three-way dildo?" Changbin asked, his face red as Hyunjin just busted out laughing.

"Well, DUH! Why wouldn't I have?" Chan responded. The two didn't pay any attention to Hyunjin dying of laughter in the background, rather focusing on their conversation. "We've talked about using it, right?"

"Well, yeah, but I didn't think that you'd actually find one." Changbin said, only for Chan to move close, smirking at Changbin as Hyunjin took the toy, studying it closely.

"Surprise." Chan whispered, Changbin shying away. He couldn't believe this. But Chan? Oh, he was loving his shy roommate's reaction. "Well, we should try it, shouldn't we? Hyunnie?"

"Oh, I DEFINITELY think we should." Hyunjin responded, before going to Changbin and giving him a kiss on his lips, Changbin melting at the small show of affection. "Don't you, Hyung?"

"I..." Changbin only blushed, before giving a shy nod. Hyunjin and Chan cooed, before giving each other a nod, pulling their pajama shorts and boxers down, Chan taking Changbin's off as well.

Chan hummed as he saw Changbin's dick, giving it a kiss before looking up at Changbin and Hyunjin, an idea coming to mind. As much as he wanted to try the three way dildo, he also wanted to give his roommates some love, too.

"Hyunjin, you should sit on Changbin's face. We gotta get ourselves prepped, right?" Chan asked, Hyunjin humming.

"I like that idea." Hyunjin agreed, before straddling Changbin's face. He slowly lowered himself down, Changbin wrapping his arms around Hyunjin's thighs, holding him down as he started to eat him out. All the while, Chan started suckling on Changbin's tip, making him moan out. And Changbin moaning made Hyunjin moan as well.

To compensate for not being able to give Chan any treatment, Hyunjin took the three way dildo in his hands, guiding one of the three dicks and putting it into his mouth, sucking off the silicone, his moans muffled because of it.

Chan smiled, happy to hear his two roommates enjoying themselves, only moving himself closer to Changbin's cock, opening his mouth and taking Changbin's dick deep into his throat. Changbin only whined, his hips bucking, his eyes rolling back into his head. It only made Chan hum, pulling off and licking a stripe up his dick before continuing.

Changbin tried not to pay attention to it, rather trying to focus on giving Hyunjin's cunt attention. He was moaning from Chan, but he made sure to pay attention to Hyunjin's clit, knowing that was what he liked. And sure enough, he heard Hyunjin squeal, his hips moving against Changbin's face just right. Changbin only moaned at it, gripping his hips more and guiding his movements.

Hyunjin continued to moan against the unique dildo, taking it out of his mouth to lean forward, setting his hands on Changbin's built chest, the three way dildo falling out of his hands so he could focus on the pleasure he was in.

"Fuck, just like that...Changbin...!" Hyunjin moaned out. Changbin only hummed in response, before gasping against Hyunjin's pussy, feeling Chan deepthroat him, his nose pushing against Changbin's pubic bone. Changbin moaned out loudly, his hips bucking up again, Chan only giggling as he watched Changbin react. He then pulled up, gasping for air, smirking to Changbin.

"Someone's sensitive...just like always." Chan spoke, looking back up at Hyunjin. "Keep sucking that dildo, Hyunnie. You gotta get all three heads ready, right?"

"Ye-Yeah, but...Fuck, Hyung...this feels so good--"

"Ah-Ah, dicks in mouth. You know better, baby." Chan spoke. Hyunjin only whined, doing his best to sit up again, only to flop against Changbin. Changbin helped him get steady, the man pulling away from Hyunjin's cunt, panting.

"I got you...it's okay...." Changbin said, keeping Hyunjin steady on top of him before lifting his head up again, latching back onto Hyunjin's pussy. Hyunjin took a breath, before sitting back up, grinding his hips down against Changbin's face before putting the three way dildo back into his mouth, looking to Chan for his approval. And the hum that left him was all Hyunjin needed to moan again, his body shuddering as Changbin's tongue flicked his clit once more.

(Roomie #1's Part) Chan shuffled over to face Changbin's dick. A devilish grin plastered on his face as he began to aggressively suck on Changbin's cock. Changbin moaned loudly into Hyunjin; the vibrations only adding to his pleasure. Hyunjin grabbed the slim, black remote next to them and pushed the power button.

"Fuck, Hyunjin!" Chan moaned as the butt plug inside him began vibrating. He shoved Hyunjin off of Changbin, grabbing the three way dildo and shoving it into Hyunjin's pussy. Changbin quickly followed suit; not wanting to be left out of what they all knew was going to happen next.

"You ready, bitches?" Chan said gruffly, shoving the third rubberized dick into his ass. Hyunjin and Changbin's agreeances (ps that's not even a word lol) could barely be heard as Chan began thrusting into them. A sea of moans could be heard from the hallway as a delivery man quickly dropped off a package. He didn't want his own package to be affected by the noise.

Hyunjin couldn't hold himself back anymore as his body began to shiver uncontrollably. It was obvious he was about to orgasm. Chan quickly grabbed the ball gag and forced it into Hyunjin's mouth, and it only took a few seconds later for his juices to squirt all over Chan.

"I didn't even get time to properly secure it," Chan teased.

"Fuck you," Hyunjin replied breathlessly with his cheeks flushing from embarrassment. Chan removed the three way dildo from all of them. He glanced over at Changbin, and not wanting him to be left out, he grabbed his thighs and squeezed them tightly. Changbin's eyes pierced into Chan's, and Chan hesitated.

"You know damn well who the dominant one is," spoke Changbin with a cheeky grin.

(Roomie #2's Part) Changbin stands up immediately, yanking the three-way dildo out of Chan's hands.

"Get up," says Changbin in a stern tone. "Both of you."

Both Chan and Hyunjin get up as fast as they can, legs shaking from what happened earlier. Changbin approaches them with a glare in his eyes.

"Open wide, you're gonna want to."

Chan and Hyunjin obey and open their mouths as wide as possible. Changbin shoves the three-way dildo into their mouths, hearing their choking sounds from their throats. Changbin starts a back and forth motion with the dildo, and hears the gagging noises that come from both Hyunjin and Chan.

"That's right, I wanna see that bulge in your throat. I want to know that you both can't handle me," Changbin says seductively.

Hyunjin and Chan try to maintain eye contact with Changbin, but it's very difficult with the giant dick in their throats.

"Alright, I've had enough," Changbin growls, and he rips the dildo out of their mouths and tosses it aside. Hyunjin and Chan start gasping for air, finally being able to breathe.

When they think they've had a break from Changbin's torment, they find that they're very wrong. Changbin rips the blinds open from the window in the living room, and takes Chan and Hyunjin by the throat. He slams them into the window and Hyunjin lets out a moan from the violence. The cold from the December weather seeps into Chan and Hyunjin's bodies.

"S-s-s-s-so c-c-cold," says Chan through a breathy moan.

"I kinda like it," Hyunjin replies to her.

While Chan and Hyunjin freeze their asses off on the window, Changbin is stroking his dick, trying to get it to it's true and final form.

"Come on!!!" he yells. After a few more minutes of searching, the frantic wanking stops.

"Finally," Changbin says in a breathy chuckle. He whips out his 15-incher, walking back over to them.

"But Changbin, that's too big, you can't use it!" Hyunjin exclaims.

Changbin stomps over to Hyunjin and grabs him by the neck, pulling him back to whisper against his ear.

"I'll do what I damn well please." He pushes the dick into Hyunjin's gaping hole and immediately Hyunjin lets out a yelp. Changbin doesn't slow down either, pounding into Hyunjin's pussy while Hyunjin's head is banging on the window.

"Chan, make yourself useful," Changbin commands him.

Chan, not wanting to make his alpha mad, gets down below Changbin. He can hear Hyunjin and Changbin's panting from the rough fucking going on above him. He licks a long line up Changbin's ass.

"FUCK!" Changbin yells, as the stimulation from being eaten out and fucking his roommate gets to him. Now both Hyunjin and Changbin are screaming in pleasure, while Chan is making slurping sounds from drinking all of Changbin's juices.

"Changbin, I'm right there, don't stop!" Hyunjin exclaims.

Changbin makes deeper and deeper thrusts, and with a final push, Hyunjin's head breaks through the glass of the window. Hyunjin comes right then and there, his moans loud enough for all of South Korea to hear.

Chan keeps up his pace and Changbin's not too far behind Hyunjin before he comes as well.

"DAMNIT CHAN!!!" Changbin yells as he comes right all over Hyunjin's back. Changbin and Hyunjin take a few minutes to calm themselves after that overwhelming experience, while Chan cleans up Hyunjin.

Hyunjin's head is still out the window, and his naked body is on display, when he hears:

"Mommy, what's that?"

It's a child walking on the sidewalk with their mother outside of their unit.

"DON'T LOOK TIMMY!!!" the mother says as she pulls him away. The child starts crying, and that's when Hyunjin knows he needs to get out of the window.

Hyunjin carefully pulls himself back into the living room, but his head is bleeding from where the glass cut him. Chan stands up and starts licking at Hyunjin's wounds.

"I'm into that shit, we should experiment with blood next time," Chan smirks. Hyunjin smiles back with a chuckle.

Changbin finally pulls out of Hyunjin with a sigh, and they all plop down on Hyunjin's living room bed, gasping for breath. As the sweat is drying from their skin, Wolf Chan, Dwaekki, and Jiniret are looking down on them all, scarred for life.

The End~

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

And have Merry Christmas!

[freakenomenon]

Just wanted you to know that every time I remember you exist I get uncontrollably possessed by the urge to draw more mouse Ellen but I've been thinking of looking for a specific mouse species for her first which I was supposed to do like last month but I kept falling asleep</3

Anyway infodump time because uhh why not???? I did come up with a mouse for AM a while back though and I have been considering putting more thought into my self-indulgent IHNMAIMSqueak AU that exists solely for combining my special interest (mice) and IHNMAIMS where he tries testing transferring his 'conscience'(???) (being???) (code???) to a mouse because he doesn't want to waste time trying to construct a whole ass body only for it to not work but it ends up working too well and now he's stuck as a mouse and in my mind it's a BALB/c scid mouse (thus the design being albino) because male BALB/c scid mice tend to be aggressive and scid specifically because they're bred to be immunocompromised and it felt pretty AM to me, although lab mice in general remind me of AM. I also considered NOD scid, NSG, and c57bl/6 but I think I'll stick with BALB/c scid. I also considered him being a texel (curly haired) mouse because they go through unethical breeding as well (poor things) but again, I think BABLB/c scid works nicely. ALSO!! A detail that I really like is that mouse AM doesn't have whiskers and this is because whiskers are very soo so important in a mouse's sensory experience and AM lacks that so I wanted that to be painfully obvious lol

I'm considering either having AM also turn the survivors into mice as well so he isn't alone in his squeakiness buuut I'm leaning more towards him not being able to do much in a mousey body I'm not a hundred percent sure

Okay ramble over mb runs away

I was going to drop a little rodent in here called a dormouse (which isn't actually a mouse but people just loooove giving random rodents the name mouse or rat for some reason???) but Tumblr is being a little shit right now so that's all enjoy your day Idk

I would help you on your journey with mouse ellen considering this should be an easy job for me. i am the Ellen guy. But there is one eensy weensy problem.

i know nothing about mice. and i am not about to embarrass myself with my surface level plebian mouse knowledge in front of the cool mouse mutual.

on the other hand , your au and your mention of lab mice ( cutest au name ever BTW ) actually reminded me of my IHNMAIMS au because it is incredibly vaguely based on the short story: Flowers for Algernon.

uhh if you, or anyone reading, is/are unaware. "Algernon" is the name of a lab mouse in the short story, who is meant to be a direct parallel to the main character Charlie ( Charles ) Gordon. a mentally disabled man born with a low IQ who undergoes the same experimental procedure as Algernon to artificially increase his intelligence. ive always thought of you ever since I read this story cause. mouse.

it's actually like a really good commentary on the dehumanization of mentally disabled people. and is just , all around a pretty good story. THATS BESIDES THE POINT.

uhh i don't know what else to say I kind of just yapped at you and wanted to tell you abt the thing i find cool. because i think you are cool

here is one of my favorite paragraphs from the story ( blurred out the derogatory term for personal comfort )

ok bye

[suzukiblu]

hi! i have a question for you, if that’s ok? i always try to leave comments on fics i read, especially on ao3 where it’s really easy to do that. in other fandoms i’ve been in, before getting into dc, fic authors often responded to my comments on their works and it was pretty easy to make friends through that and other social media and have lots of fun interactions talking about the fandom and our favorite characters etc.

however, i’ve found with this fandom it seems to be very different? almost nobody seems to respond to comments on their fics and i’ve found it very difficult to make any fandom friends, even in a casual-tumblr-mutuals kind of way. (this isn’t about you btw, you seem like the friendliest person i’ve come across on here so far which is why i’m asking you haha)

i completely understand many people are busy or some authors may find responding to comments overwhelming, but i was just wondering if this is something you or anyone else has noticed? is it a quirk of the dc fandom in particular? or am i just getting older and fandoms in general are changing haha, idk.

anyway sorry for the long ramble, feel free to ignore if i’m making no sense. i really enjoy all your stories (and your art! your art style is so cute!) and i hope you’re having a great day :]

Thank you, I'm glad you like my stuff! Especially the art, that I always feel like I'm worse at, hah. ❤️ I hope you're having a great day too. And asking me questions is always okay, no worries! I can't always get to everything in my inbox, to be honest, but I do my best to respond to as much stuff as I can. Either way, though, I never mind getting questions.

Personally I don't currently respond to most of my comments (I try to answer questions that aren't spoilers, but that's usually it these days) because it's just really easy for me to run out of spoons doing it and end up down a rabbit hole of comments instead of actually WRITING, which stresses me out because then I don't feel suitably "productive" for my imposter syndrome brain, and I also know a few people who don't respond because of anxiety or things like that, but I don't know if it's specifically a DC fandom thing or an overall trend in fandom in general? Every fandom is different, obviously, and also certain SECTIONS of those fandoms are different. Like, when I was into MCU fandom, I never really expected super-involved responses when I wrote Stucky because there was SO MUCH Stucky that it seemed like a lot of people just kinda churned through it and it all blurred together for them, but when I wrote about Darcy Lewis oh BOY did people come out of the woodwork to tell me how much they loved it in GREAT detail. Having a niche in general helps, I think, because if you're doing something that isn't super-common or interested in something that isn't super-common, people will be more excited to see it from you or hear you appreciating it from them.

I WILL say there's only a couple DC authors I can currently think of who I generally assume I'll get replies from when I comment on their fic, but I don't know if that's the specific fandom or just that I'm not reading a ton of fic right now and therefore have a smaller pool of authors I'm commenting on. Like, it's hard to tell, honestly. Also DC is a very widespread fandom and pretty old and established, but there's definitely characters and series and canons that just get ignored by huge chunks of it, so if you're into them you either have a real easy time finding people who are excited to talk to you or a real HARD time, depending on where you're looking.

Either way, I think it's really great that you try to leave comments on everything you read and a really good habit for the fandom ecosystem, I know a TON of authors who appreciate getting even, like, a single friggin' emoji or kudos, whether they respond or not. Literally any not-a-hate-comment comment is good for the ecosystem, imo, even when it's not obvious that it is. I very literally once wrote, like, eighty thousand words pretty much just because someone left a very kind comment on an old fic I'd abandoned. I did not actually RESPOND to that comment, as far as I remember; I just changed my mind about abandoning the fic and went through the long-ass process of getting my brain back into it and then the even longer-ass process of writing another 80k over the next few months/year until I got to the end. So like, I VERY much am a person who believes in the value of feeding the ecosystem, hah.

I am largely a call-and-response type of writer myself, so like, getting comments or people talking to me in my replies/asks/messages is basically like somebody is putting tokens in the fic machine and pulling a lever, and we'll all just see if I write three sentences or 80k or secretly tailor a fic towards things a frequent commenter's mentioned appreciating/being into. It's a surprise every time, with me!! And like, that's just how I work, of course, everybody's different, but I have NEVER met anybody who told me they didn't like getting comments.

When I leave comments myself, I tend to feel like more like I'm just telling the author that I think they're on the right track with the thing they're writing, one way or another, and letting them know it got a reaction or feelings or the like out of me, but I'm generally not really expecting a response from them. For actually making friends, I've found MUCH more luck in talking to people on Tumblr and Discord than on AO3. I've made friends on AO3 on and off over the years, but it's just much, MUCH easier for me to do on Tumblr and Discord. Though I kind of have a cheat code there in the sense that I'm a pretty prolific writer and so I've kinda encouraged people to get into the habit of checking my blog pretty frequently or even put alerts on for it, so generally people have a lot of opportunities to talk to me or be reminded I'm around.

I tend to notice people who show up repeatedly in my Tumblr mentions, personally, especially when they talk in the tags or comment in the replies or send me asks, and some of them I've either become friends with or just, like, secretly adopted as secret faves and sometimes sneak little extra treats of Things I Think That One Tumblr Person Would Like into my writing or pick specific WIPs to work on because I think "hey last time I wrote this [ TUMBLR FAVE ] really liked it, I should write more!" (and then I cackle in triumph/delight when they reblog it later, for that is a Victory, mwahaha), but like, it's a process? I definitely feel like making friends in fandom is generally slower than it was once upon a time, but also I'm a Fandom Old so there's been a few migrations and such over my time online too. And also Discord confuses me, hahaha. Discord is VERY confusing to me.

Ummm . . . okay I got INTO that reply, I guess, lol, but I hope that answered your question? Or at least helped answer it, if nothing else!