#now im free from the very out there takes

[chrattho1]

chris sturniolo blurb

makeout session with sub!chris

“mhhph..” chris moans against your lips, his mouth moving hurriedly with yours. salivas exchanging, bodies twitching with need, both your breathing ragged through the nose as your mouths stay busy. this happens at least twice on a free day when your makeout sessions get too intense, sometimes so intense that chris cannot handle it. cumming in his pants while making out with you is something that happens often with him, its almost like its a given.

you’re both on your bed, your body hovering chris’s as you both suck each other’s faces off.

your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling his head towards you, your noses nudging each other, chris’s skin flushed beyond the ability of how red it can get.

soon enough chris’s hips start rocking into yours, holding onto your waist and pulling you down to grind on him, he does that every time, you don’t mind it obviously. if anything it feels good.

but when your hand sneakily slips under his sweats and wraps around his sloppy-with-precum-length, he gasps.

you usually don’t give him these things so easily, he begs and begs and begs for just a little touch and best believe he loves doing that. so this is shocking to say the least, he knows he’s not lasting more than two minutes.

“oh..oh…my god..” chris’s voice strained as he pulls away with wide eyes immediately bucking his hips to slip his sweats down his waist, he’s got no boxers on cause he believes its pointless if he’s just staying home with you, he likes to hang loose like that.

you look at him with a small yet prominent smirk on your face while adjusting yourself on his lap so its easier for your hand to move.

“mhm..mhm…just like that..please” the ‘p’ word never leaving his vocabulary.

your hand gently strokes his hardened length thats sprung up to his stomach, tip swollen and glistening with precum. his hands flying to roll up the very expensive sweater he has on. he has a history of making a mess, ruining some of his brand new and highly-priced clothes.

“oh fuck..fuck..ma, please, fuck—” he cuts himself off by biting on his bottom lip. the pace at which your hand is moving is excruciatingly slow. his stomach muscles tightening with every stroke.

“just let me take care of you okay? c’mere” your free hand cups his face as you lean down to continue kissing him.

chris groans loudly into the kiss, breaking away every few seconds to catch a breath because it really is too much for him. he is very sensitive.

“mama..please..” he whimpers almost pathetically, its the sound he makes when he’s getting close, the sound you know like the back of your hand.

“gonna cum?” your faces inches apart as you look down at him and speak.

he nods vigorously, his eyes threatening to shut but you can see he is trying his best to keep them open. his cheeks the color of a red solo cup almost, bottom lip jutting out now glossy from the makeout, his hands clutching the sheets on either side of your bodies. he lets out small and soft whimpers repeatedly with every slow stroke, his cock twitching in your palm.

“please..please..” his voice cracks, the elbows on which he’s propped up on are now shaky and his chest heaving.

“mama..ma..cumming..im cummi—” his mouth hangs open with a silent screech leaving it. you can hear his neck crack when he throws his head back at once. hot, white and thick spurts of cum cover your knuckles and parts of his exposed belly.

his body twitching and squirming for the next few moments with your hand remaining wrapped around his cock.

“fuck…fuck..” he breaths out, clearly spent.

your free hand reaches up to cup his face, his half open eyes looking up at you. his breathing still heavy and shaky.

“can you handle another?” your thumb caresses his cheek softly watching as he gulps and nods with desperate eyes.

˗ˏˋ a/n ˎˊ˗ sub!chris is my baby also if you wanna be added or removed from my taglist, reply to my taglist posts’ that are linked on my pinned ! english is not my first language.

🏷️ @espressqe @ginswife @sturnsburna @carolina454 @hope2244 @hotgirlbl0gger @violetstxrniolo777 @riggysworld @verycoolmiyah @fadedstvrn @purpledreamertyphoon @mattsplaything @whore4chris @chris-halleluja @annsx03 @mattsdemi @chrislittleslut @poolover123 @luvvnai @chrissturniolossidehoe @pompomprrin @harmonysturniolo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @soph-loren @ccsturns @lovesturni0l0s @chriss-slutt @wysmols @sturniolosluttt @mattsdillion @alyssa-sturn @bilssturns @sturnobessed @mxnsonn @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @chrissturnioloswife88 @sxphiee3 @purpledreamertyphoon @whoreforchrissturnniolo @slutformatt17 @realuvrrr @sweetxcheeryx @sturnl0ve @estellesdoll @glitterybtch @courta13 @mattsbitchh @slvtf0rchr1s @trevorsgodmother

[faorism]

@danburys did a great job talking about the scared stiff job's take on nates legacy being leverage and the people they help. i think this episode proves hardisons, especially as it has transformed after the end of the og series.

they have toppled leadership before, but they often leave vacuums on their wake. in the season two two-part finale, they brought down a city mayor, but im sure boston will be fine filling in the seat. in san lorenzo, they take a fumbling politician and win the election for him. here, the man didn't matter to them overmuch, and san lorenzo's people were just a voting bloc; the crew, after all, was just out for revenge.

a saliant moment that spells a shift in perspective happens not with nate as mastermind... but, i think, in the back of a van, with two good boys, looking at taking down an incoming royalty free walmart. they know the town is quietening down/dying, but let them not die from this low low price. give them a fighting chance, hardison hears from eliot. and he really does hear him: hear eliot be truly be vulnerable, truly and completely there with hardison, and he hears eliot. they take down the superstore, and they hope for the town to sustain itself.

now, so many years later, there's a depth to the change that's happened with the replacement of town leadership in the shakedown in clown town job. some obviously credit is due to bre for the execution and sophie for the masterminding, but. but i just feel the thoroughness of the change happening is influenced by hardison—both his presence over the years, but also absence and why he left. change has to be bigger, stronger. it's not just getting people out of power, humiliated in jail, and or broke.

it's that a dying town without industry now has a proposal for a stadium. i like to imagine that they legitimately considered the race track, and decided to help them with something more versatile. things are highly abbreviated for the show, so things wouldn't move quite this fast irl. but we do have bre and eliot are fiddling with the diorama; imo there's no way that the crew didn't sit down with the new mayor and brainstorm what might work for the town, what resources are available, and what people they know.

lasting change. it's the kind that mobilizes. it's the kind that takes throwing a football, hearing people out, showing up. and also knowing that there's capitalism and industry that holds a lot of progress from moving forward.

and that feels so fucking tidy. it feels like getting tickets to different countries for everyone in the crew after your very first job, and like wiping all of your's digital presence, and like the eight billion things they expect from their makers/hackers.

and to me, that's all hardison. his legacy to leverage intl.

[sukunasun]

I hope this ask finds you well! I simply MUST tell you about my latest Nanami fantasy. Feel free to ignore lol

So I've been obsessed with your Professor Nanami thoughts, I've always had little fantasies about him like that, but recently I thought of a combination between your Professor Nanami and the BEAUTIFUL chubby fem reader x Nanami fic you wrote.

I hate to take up your time but I simply must indulge in the thought. I imagine Professor Nanami, tall and awkward, stern and often seen as rude, falling madly infatiated with the new chubby biology professor that has joined his same university. They rarely cross paths, but when they do, he feels like a lovesick fool watching her go across the courtyard swiftly, shifting through documents, barely paying attention to the world around her. He wants to talk to her, woo her, pick at her brain and hear her ramble about her passion for her teaching subject. He wishes he still had that passion for teaching, wasn't dulled by the lack of interest in his students (Itadori is one of the few who brings his passion back every time he receives an update email).

But like I said, he's awkward, and he's a die hard romantic so he wishes they had a kind of "meet cute" encounter where she drops her papers and he helps pick them up, introducing himself, inviting her out to coffee. He feels silly when he imagines all the scenarios he could officially meet her, get her name from her own mouth instead of the university faculty index online. He just wants a chance to know her, learn about her, see her as more than a bubbly professor who is way out of his league.

Of course his thoughts don't stay pure. He often thinks of her late at night, in his office or his bed, finishing paperwork and imagining her taking his fountain pen away, coaxing him to relax with a neck massage, pressing her breasts into the back of his head. He imagines taking her on his desk, or a fancy hotel after a romantic dinner, something hot and wild or passionate and soothing. It's the only way he can get off nowadays, thinking about her in all the ways he wishes he could.

Maybe Geto and Gojo encourage him to get out of his comfort zone and ask her on a date. Maybe they do have a meet cute encounter and fall in love instantly. Maybe he's too timid around her and continues to pine in silence. Regardless, just the thought of her makes his stomach flip in the most delicious way, and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to recover.

Alrighty, I'm all done lol. Thank you for your time and I hope you have the loveliest day. Your writing is always fantastic and inspires me endlessly, so I hope you're doing well 💕

thank you so much for sharing your thoughts! i loved loved loved reading this !! i'm so happy he's gotten so much appreciation, im sure he'd find it all very overwhelming and unnecessary, but it'll encourage him to give himself a chance for once.

because nanami's more than his semblance and stature. they say he's an awkward, rude man who's out to make his student's social lives just as non-existent. as. yuuji puts it, "he added an extra assignment for the week, now i have to cancel my date, i'm gonna be alone forever!"

and kusakabe snorts when you bring him up. "nanami kento? that guy only cares about work, he doesn't talk to women let alone go on dates,"

"must be one of those aloof and stoic types—" higuruma is at least observational in his judgement "—i don't know of his preferences, but in terms of dating...he'd likely be attracted to someone similar." he shrugs from behind his desk, stacks of files and paperwork piled high. his words could mean anything but higuruma rarely makes vague, blanket statements. never the kind to shy away from specifics and specific connotations.

thinking about it now. you and nanami would be equals in regards to intelligence. a pair of smart and capable people leading their fields. although when it comes to appearances, two people couldn't be more different. where he is tall and muscular, with thick forearms and a chest sturdy as a brick wall, you are rounded and curvy beneath your lab coat.

still, the general consensus on his not-so-friendly disposition wasn't enough to dissuade you, there's always a possibility he'd be kind as he is smart. the thought of running into professor nanami was a situation most unprepared for. what does one do when faced with the most unattainable man on campus. his accolades and accomplishments aside, it is clear he isn't pursuing a relationship. at least not in the way he's pursued knowledge and truth all this while.

it has never been more difficult to cross paths given that STEM and econs buildings were a distance apart. there hadn't been an overlap in students or staff meetings or social circles either, as if he were on a totally different side of the world. sometimes you notice him and it makes your heart flutter. a rare sighting of the creature of your affections standing by the window of his office but turning away the second he sees you, pulling the curtains shut. other times, he sits by the bench near the park, leg crossed over his knee as he balances papers on his thigh. even when deep into grading papers, he senses your presence walking by and leaves in an instant. his feet moving at a brisk pace, carrying an old messenger bag with him. as if he's doing it all on purpose, going out of his way to avoid you.

--------------

after nanami's dashed and made it to the safety of his office, he's left peeking through the small sliver of light from his curtains, watching you sigh and take a seat where he'd been.

"maah...he's staring again," gojo's voice is a grating sound to nanami's ears. always a mocking, teasing lilt heard from behind him. he's about to stop them from entering because they're always meddling at the wrong time but feels the weight of gojo's arm slinging over his shoulder. ah. too late.

geto laughs right in his face before shaking his head and tutting, "our kouhai hasn't learned a thing!"

"i don't know what you're talking about," nanami makes his defense. looking down at his loafers, they're all scuffed from years of wear, but he likes that the leather has darkened, the soles are still intact, and it has taken shape to his feet perfectly. kinda like how his two seniors are just as familiar. always circling and hovering around him, ready to strike with a jab or a hard truth. gojo and geto are terrible at subtlety as they are at being his wingmen.

"still wallowing?" gojo hums, his index finger coming up to nanami's cheek and poking the skin incessantly. "by the way you should really start using a toner—"

"stop it—" nanami swats his hand away, clicking his teeth "—i'm not wallowing." he sounds so juvenile like this, only with these two does he lose all reputation. turning back into that annoyed and moody teen with acne and a fringe, cooped up in a library and getting addicted to caffeine.

geto snorts, "you've made it your whole identity, 'woe is me, i'm so awkward and ugly and no one will ever put up with me'," he believes nanami's become attached to self-pity and judging by how well he's able to twist the knife with people, nanami isn't adamant on refuting his claim.

instead, he scoffs, "i never said i was ugly—" that he knows is an overstatement, but picking out the 'wrong' thing, the flaw in geto's argument helps to deflect from the unflattering truth. no one will ever put up with me. and geto knows nanami's swerving around because he gives him an unimpressed look, 'that's beside the point,' he'd say.

nanami tries to explain, "—it's always best to be honest and fair when making judgements of oneself." if that were the case, he'd remind himself of all the times he's chickened out of speaking to you. choosing to hide in the dark of his office to calm his beating heart at being caught red-handed or dashing away when you found him grading papers outside. 'coward' says the voice in his head. he ignores it for now.

"aw man he's being self-deprecating again, guru-chan do something!" satoru sighs, shaking his head as if disappointed, then hugs nanami. not a full teddy bear hug, but he squeezes nanami a centimetre closer with his slung arm, and it feels the same as being lit on fire. uncomfortable and definitely not helpful for the situation he's in right now.

suguru saves him at least by pushing satoru's arm away. "c'mon 'ken, you've been pining over her for months, what do you have to lose?" he counters and nanami doesn't know if he's more scared of being denied what he wants most or having to lose it all. weighing out the risks comes naturally to him but backing it up with indefatigable proof is unfortunately not a power he hones.

--------------

you're having lunch with higuruma today. just lunch. a meal shared between two colleagues and nothing more—

—is what nanami tells himself when he spots the two of you by the newly opened cafe near campus. the scene is so picturesque as if taken from a painting. you sit by a window, sunlight pouring in and across your features, beaming rays of light decorating you in gold and amber. he's picked a few cues from the man opposite you, one being that whatever's going on between you two is beyond platonic intent.

which he can't fault the lawyer for. no man would pass up the opportunity for something more. who wouldn't fall within the first second of laying eyes on you? the way nanami did. he remembers your shiny hair blowing in the wind when rushing to and from lecture halls, the soft plumpness of your cheeks rising with every smile, a torch of passion lit in your eyes when hearing you talk about research. with interest and a warm, almost fond curiosity.

this is to say that nanami isn't innocent in his own intentions with you. berating himself is part of romance too. 'she's not a prize to be won. she's a woman. brilliant and beautiful,' he thinks it'll be easier to succumb to his insecurities, tell himself he's unworthy, but all he feels is a twisted guilt. the same guilt that curls and winds up his spine, clutching at his chest, pooling in his stomach as he watches the higuruma move across the table to caress a finger over your cheek. seemingly to brush away what little crumbs have peppered there.

nanami clenches his fist so hard his knuckles turn white and a vein bulges. so it's like that. he hates jumping to conclusions. it's uncharacteristic for him to make accusations and form baseless hypotheses. but why. why such a feeling. all because this man has acquired your favour? who is he to have earned the luxury of touching you so freely? when nanami wants and has wanted for more than a brush of skin or a friendly introduction, for longer than a meal or seasons passed. torturously, achingly counting seconds to gaining, no, receiving that privilege. as entitled, he isn't exempt from possession. and how human too. the unfeeling and detached nanami learns he's capable of wanting something for himself.

he watches for your reaction, but when you don't push higuruma away and thank him instead, nanami believes he's lost all his appetite. pasta left untouched until clear skies turn as grey and gloomy as his mood for the rest of the day.

--------------

he's in a rush tonight. no—a rut sounds more fitting.

after he's failed half his class on their weekly assignment and dealt with the pushback, he's about ready to explode from the stress. nothing seems to be going right. an unappetizing lunch, a disinterested batch of students, and he's three days behind schedule on that journal article. staring at his three-monitor setup and coming up blank on his daily writing. he can't seem to force his fingers to tap away at the keys, but they reach toward the whiskey bottle with ease.

nanami's a big believer in moderation but'll bend his rules again as he resigns himself to the guilty pleasures of fantasy and fleeting missives. he pours himself a glass, then another, and by the time he downs the fourth, his cheeks pink and heat up. clouding his mind and buzzing all over his skin soothingly. the alcohol is not nearly enough for him to pass out drunk, but it does release some tension in his muscles.

all the nerves and irritation slip away as he reaches straight for his trousers, unbuckling himself free with a one-handed manoeuvre. he's been jerking off every night now, grown accustomed to routine, it doesn't take long for him to leak through his boxers the moment he closes his eyes shut and thinks of you. his hard dick springs free and his balls ache for release. he tugs on them and groans when the sensation throbs up his shaft. the skin hot and glistening from his precum dribbling down. twitching head begging for heat, pressure, and suction.

he's got an array of scenes to choose from. making love after a long day. making love on your wedding night. making love in general. nanami loves a soft woman, and no one knows what he's really like when in private. strict professor by day, introverted and nerdy, who most believe is still a virgin. it's only here that he doesn't fumble and fidget with nerves. tonight he feels no remorse for imaging the way his cock looks slapping against your cheek, making you gag on it as you slobber drool and his mess down your chin. nanami almost feels bad, might curse himself for picturing a sweetheart like you on your knees, his fist wrapped around your hair so tight while you look up at him, eager to please.

used to picturing slow, sensuous kisses and even slower thrusts into you, he now opts for something dirtier to dismiss the scene he saw earlier today. 'you're jealous' the thought whispers through the fog and this time, he can't ignore it.

he fists his shaft hoping to imitate the feeling of your wet heat cling to him like a vice. he curls around you just as tightly. his cock fitting snugly, almost too big to take within your depths. you'll tell him just as much because he likes the praise. academic success has done little for his vanity, but hearing your sighing lamentations, sobbing ovations on his sheer size would make him feel just that bit better about himself.

but forget his self-esteem, this is purely for your pleasure. he wouldn't want you feeling anything but full and split open on his dick. he's tall and broad and has come a long way since he was lanky and swimming in his slacks. has an idea of just how much weight, how much pressure is befitting to trap you beneath him. don't be fooled by his quiet demeanor, nanami is always down to give you a good time. setting those prescription glasses to the side and gets to work. laying you back and propped comfortably, curves cushioned by pillows. with legs spread and a view to die for, nanami gets himself into position and eats you out like a meal to be savoured. taking his time, making you edge, urged only by your cries and moans.

he wouldn't mind if you caged him in, legs putting him in a headlock, but he prefers to have you spread-eagled and bucking for more. clit so sensitive as he nibbles and sucks on it, gently at first, like he's testing the waters, picking up cues and filing them away for future reference. he loves to learn and he's quick at it too. getting so good at it he's able to have you trembling and twitching for hours, coming undone with just his mouth and nothing more.

he pumps his fist and moans shamelessly because he's allowed this one thing. here in private, he lets out groans and grunts held under crumbling restraint, rambling on, "mine, mine, mine..." his legs spread, and his thighs clench when he's close to his climax. imagining the sounds you'd make, light and airy, deep and guttural, moaning his name and screaming for more. the beautiful professor below him taking every inch that slips past the channel of his slippery, rough fingers.

wet and heated, the head of his cock bobs and his thumb presses down right at the sensitive tip while his other hand grips the base tightly with sweet pressure, just like how you'd clench down on him. "i didn't think you'd feel so good 'ken," he hears it in your voice and it makes him smile just a little. call it arrogance but he knows he'll pleasure you just right. his beautiful professor looking shocked and surprised that he's no longer a man who cowers and runs away but one who takes want he wants instead.

his cheeks get hot and so do his ears, clenching his eyes shut and immersing himself fully. tipping his head back and cursing, "fuck—" he grits out desperate and dying to bounce you atop him, coiled around you like a snake, he'd love the weight, the feel, so soft, so full.

tongue going dry with every heaving breath, nanami sees a view of your face twisting in pleasure, gasping and shaking all over. your pretty lips gaping in a perfect o-shape as your eyes roll back and your fingernails rake down his chiselled back, just to hold on, just to ride out the immense wave of pleasure. shlick. shlick. shlick. he mimics thrusting into you on the comedown before he spills into his hand. white painting his skin and most of his office floor.

he sits back and sighs, his cock still leaking cum and he thinks he hates himself. still, it's only when he instinctively reaches for the neatly folded handkerchiefs in another drawer does he begin to contemplate his situation. "i'm done for..."

--------------

when the long-awaited, much-anticipated 'meet-cute' happens, it doesn't go as he'd imagined. "professor nanami! we've never actually met so i thought i'd say hi," you put on your best smile, pushing your glasses up and hoping they hide the uncertainty in your expression. you squeeze a clammy hand on your skirt to soak up as much of the moisture before holding it out. only to have him stare at you questioningly in return.

the worse part isn't the skeptical expression, or the way his eyebrows furrow, or the way his lips grow thin, as if he's confused as to why you're speaking to him. like he wouldn't waste an introduction on you of all people. this is the downside of having a crush, the inevitable letdown and rejection you feel when realizing nanami might know you exist, but he doesn't acknowledge your existence.

you've been told you're quite the personality, cute, bubbly, approachable. so why the hell won't he just talk to you! it's not like you did anything wrong and you hate being made to feel stupid. you're a professor in your own right, and he's just staring like you were less than. not even worth a hello. so you laugh it off, "well, see you!" turning around and berating yourself for even trying. this man was just as they said—detached and cold fucking hearted.

"w-wait!" his hand reaches out to catch your arm. the sudden lunge almost toppling him over and falling atop you. "forgive me, it seems i was stunned." he swallows.

"stunned?" you ask, suddenly curious.

with his eyes blinking behind his glasses, nanami moves to push them back from slipping down that bridge of his nose. he looks so endearing, it instantly makes you smile. "yes, well, you...you're talking. to me." he lets you go after his hand has overstayed it's welcome around your bicep, pulling back towards the front of his sweater, brushing it off for nonexistent lint. (of course not, nanami would be the kind to steam and brush it clean after every wash)

"that is true yes," you reply, eyes crinkling at the berth of your smile, wide enough, bright enough, infectious in nature. so much so he gives you one in return. just the smallest tilt of his own lips. in a second his face goes from night to day. almost like the clouds that part then, crepuscular rays shining upon his golden hair and lashes.

after a few seconds, he seems to have calmed, but his heartbeat hammers the same, you know this because his face turns pink. "i'd like to...talk to you." he says, and you take him up on that request.

[ryssbelle]

Me when someone thinks they’ve won by blocking me but now I don’t have to see their rancid takes in the tags anymore

[arundolyn]

ohhhh my fucking god nobody needs to like know any of this medical tmi but it is literally 11 pm and if im kept up one minute longer when i just laid down trying to go to sleep by my mother YELLING REPEATEDLY that she needs to pee. im going to actually go insane. she got a catheter in. Yesterday. it is working. she won't listen to anyone when they tell her that this is the case. help me jesus. im sure if a nurse comes to check on her tomorrow they'll probably get the same response. my brain will simply explode

[pikkish]

Yeah we've already talked about how outright stupid the lore n writing for modern Doom is, but tbh I can understand why they had to do something with Doomguy, why they had to make him The Specialest Boy instead of Just Some Guy. Do I like how they did it? No, I would've taken it a different direction. Do I think that hugo could've done it well even if he took it in the direction I would've? No, I have minimal faith in his story writing. But realistically, how many times can a guy singlehandedly accomplish the impossible before you have to acknowledge he's very much not Just Some Guy who happened to be at the right place at the right time? I think that, with how every single other person on the Phobos UAC base were killed in Doom I, doomguy stopped being Just Some Guy the moment he decided to do anything other than just lie down and die.

[pomfiores]

my shift today is around my old department. :) and I'm not riddled with anxiety. the mind games my old department put me through, lmao.

[dankovskaya]

Of course they r different genres of story centered around very different characters and relationships and situations etc but i think also that just makes it funnier

[poisonouspastels]

[aaaaaaaaagenloser]

(Tw: kinda transphobia? Use of it/its for a character who hasn’t declared what their pronouns are yet. Arguments over whether a character is a person or not; that ties into the pronoun thing here. Bonus points for descriptions of canon-typical gore yipeeee)

An update from after writing this: oh this. Got. This one got away from me?? I think I started this at 4 minutes past the hour. It is now 43 minutes past the hour. shitt.

Update; it is now 17 minutes after the NEXT hour. 26 minutes after th last update. I have seen god in the past hour and she shook in fear of both my power and audacity. I have lunch with my family scheduled in like 6 hours and I have not yet slept. This wasn’t meant to be as long as it is but I was possessed and this is the result. I may edit it and make it smoother later but I’ll make that a separate post, I want this sleep-deprived chunk of words to be here as like a monument to the fact that I could have been playing stardew valley during this time but I chose to do this instead

TLDR: long ass story ahead written by a sleep-deprived and hyperfixation-driven author. Who is now going the fuck to BED

“We can’t just keep it! What if it has a tracking device? It won’t let us fucking touch it so there’s no way of knowing it has one unless it leads them right to us!”

“Ok, I hear you but think. That hasn’t happened yet. It’s been about what, three days? and that hasn’t happened, and they haven’t been violent towards any of us at all. They haven’t tried to go back either, so there’s no risk of them telling or leading Showfall where we are.”

“Why do you keep calling it ‘they’?”

“Well they can’t be an “it” now can it? …wait.”

“Ok can we figure out the gender of the thing in the other room after we figure out if it’s a threat to us or not. It’s not even a fucking person, you remember what those things did to you back there, don’t you?”

“Those people were not themselves, they were just doing what he wanted them to do—“

“They’re not fucking people! Those things are all part of Showfall, just like Hetch was! It’s just waiting for the right time to turn us in, or pull some shit on one of us like they did before.”

“They weren’t… they weren’t in control.”

“Yeah like fuck they weren’t, I saw it fucking happen!”

“You can’t just… Ok. Sneeg. Stop. You don’t speak for me, the one who, oh I don’t know, was the one that shit happened to? They were being controlled just like us—“

“No, no, not like us. We were wandering around and not knowing what the fuck was happening. None of us knew what was happening. We just went along blindly. Those things—on purpose—dragged you to that stupid wall and sewed wires into your hands—“

“Shut up, Sneeg—“

“No you shut up! You didn’t see it fucking happen! I saw them and Bitchface literally hold you down until you passed out! They were fucking choking you, they fucking—they nearly fucking killed you with just their hands, that’s not a little suggestion in the back of your brain, that’s on purpose! That is fucking deliberate, that is a thing those machines chose to do! You don’t remember, you weren’t conscious when they fucking stapled you to the wall and strapped your head in—“

Sneeg glanced at Ranboo for a moment in-between pacing as he ranted, and the far away look in their sibling’s eyes shut them up immediately. Ranboo was still present, thank fuck, but they were looking at their brother like he was holding up a knife to their throat.

“Fuck, Ran, okay, okay—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… shit. Do you need Charlie?”

“You don’t know when to shut the fuck up.”

“…okay. Okay. I’m sorry. Do you need me to get Charlie?”

“No, I’m fucking fine.” It did not sound like he meant that at all. His voice was less steady than before. “I don’t want him to worry about our… hitchhiker. He’s worrying enough about… well, everything.”

“The fact that it’s here, so close to us is the reason I’m trying to get you to see, Ran. What if it turns on him? What if it does that shit to him when we aren’t there?”

“We will be there.”

“And when it tries anything, we can kill it?”

“Sneeg!”

“You wouldn’t kill it, even if it hurt our fucking brother?”

“Of course we wouldn’t keep them around if they did that, could we at least just… just leave it behind? …wait, no, they couldn’t take care of themselves. If we had to leave it behind, maybe we should…”

Silence lingered for a bit too long.

“We should what, Ran?”

“…Sneeg, I was about to say that killing it would be a mercy.” The Hero laughed. “Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

The Taken didn’t reply.

“We have to help them. I don’t… I don’t want to be on the other end of a mercy killing. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”

“Okay. I’m—are you okay?”

“…m fine. It’s fine. Just. Can you stop acting like they’re any different from us? Please.”

“What do you want me to think then?” His voice was softer than it had been a few minutes before.

“Just assume that they… that they were someone. Just like we were before. And they didn’t… they didn’t do anything on their own, it was all Showfall.”

“Okay. Fine. Let’s assume they were controlled, they didn’t mean to, so on and so forth. Why haven’t they talked yet.”

“I don’t think any of the drones even could talk. Wait, should we really be calling them a drone—“

“Shut the fuck up, Ranboo, we have got to figure out what to do with it. It probably doesn’t even know what is happening, what the fuck does it matter what we call it.”

“It matters to me! Do you want me to call you by your title? Do you want to call me by mine? …No? Then why are we treating them like all they are is what Showfall made them? We had lives before, we were someone, so they must have been too. They might not realize it, or… or act like it, but they used to be someone. They are a whole person, Sneeg. We have to help them, we can’t just leave them behind because that would mean we are giving up on someone just like us, and we cannot give up on each other. They… they would have hurt us by now if they were going to. And Showfall hasn’t found us since… you know, which means there aren’t any more trackers.

…okay, Sneeg?”

“…okay. If it,” he sighed at the look Ran gave them, “if they try anything, we have to leave them behind. I’m not letting a dumbass puppet be the reason we get taken back.”

“If they—ok, whatever, you’re not understanding. You can’t say one of us somehow wanted to be controlled, and they’re a ‘puppet’ but those rules don’t apply to the rest of us—“

“There is not an ‘us,’ Ran! That thing isn’t like us!”

“Guys?”

A sleepy voice shut the two of them up instantly. They had a split-second conversation with their eyes before looking to their brother. ‘We aren’t done talking about this’ ‘You’e absolutely right, so later?’ ‘Later.’ ‘We’re telling Charlie nothing happened?’ ‘Of course.’ ‘Ok good plan.’

“Why are you two fighting? I’m tired, can we please go back to sleep?”

“We weren’t fighting, we were…”

“…talking about plans for tomorrow. And you can go back to sleep.”

“I don’t want to be by myself.” Charlie looked at Sneeg pointedly, who sighed to Ranboo with a playfully annoyed expression.

“Well I guess I gotta go be a teddy bear again.”

“Have fun”

“Absolutely not.”

Charlie punched Sneeg in the shoulder lightly for that, who just giggled in response and led his little brother back to their room.

Which left Ran by themselves.

Some nights, he would join them, but some nights Charlie couldn’t stand to be anywhere near Ran, and the three of them had made a silent mutual agreement that Charlie trusted Sneeg more than he did Ranboo.

…Ranboo was okay with this. He wasn’t hurt by it. He didn’t cry on the nights he slept by himself.

He didn’t wish he could be the one Sneeg comforted sometimes. They were just fine.

They were fine, which is why they went to the living room where their… well. Their hitchhiker? They weren’t exactly a brother, or a sibling, more like a fourth wheel on a tricycle. Or a flyaway hair. Okay, maybe Ranboo needed to get tbr fuck to sleep, alone or not.

But he found himself in the living room, where their hitchhiker slept. Or, didn’t sleep, as they seemed to not need to. They would sit on the couch and stare idly at the tv. That was what had started the whole conversation with Sneeg in the first place; Ran wanted to leave some kind of entertainment for the fourth person so they wouldn’t be made to sit in the dark for hours. Sneeg took this remark as a perfect opportunity to explain all the reasons why the former drone should be abandoned, but Ranboo would have fucking none of it. Maybe the couch potato (shit, he really needed to come up with a name for them—) didn’t seem to sleep, barely ate, and stayed still unless actually verbally told to move, but they were still a person. Ranboo was sure of it.

Their hand wandered up to the fresh scabs where their mask had been. The fourth person had a mask, one that hadn’t been touched. Despite usually staying still, the person—(Ranboo thinks they might just call this person Couch for now. Maybe it’s not accurate, and they’re tired, but it’s something. C, for short.)

C would back away any time the others would try to get near them. And they did in fact try, but despite how creative or sneaky they got, C always ducked away. It reminded Ranboo of the drone who had followed them with a camera, always one step away and never letting the Hero get too close.

The mask turned to Ranboo, who stared back quietly. C hadn’t talked at all, so Ranboo didn’t expect them to suddenly start now. He wasn’t even sure if they understood what was said to them, but Ranboo wanted to try anyways. Better to be polite.

“Do you like the show that’s on? I think it’s called Lucy, or something. I don’t know, Sneeg said it was funny. And it didn’t seem, uh- scary or anything.”

The mask didn’t speak.

“If you want to change it, the remote’s right there, um, I showed you how to use it before. And there’s like, instructions drawn on there. You can thank Charlie for that one.”

…

“I think I’m going to head to bed.”

…

“Fuck it, can I stay here?”

The mask still didn’t speak, but the head hidden behind it tilted a bit at the sudden change in tone. Ranboo took this as an absolute win.

“So I just. I don’t want to be by myself. And I don’t think you sleep, I mean if you just sleep when everyone else is asleep that’s cool, but also if so how do you even? function? on that much sleep? It really isn’t that much but to be fair you don’t do much so maybe you don’t need it. …do you sleep sitting up? And just somehow wake up when we get close? I know, um. Sorry about that, again, we were just worried your mask had a tracker like mine used to.”

Ran laughed nervously. “I think I did convince them that it doesn’t, so that should stop now. If um. If we make you uncomfortable you still don’t have to be touched, it’s, it’s fine.”

Other than the head tilt before, there wasn’t a reply.

“Okay, since. You can’t talk, I’m just gonna… I’ll sit down beside you. On the couch. And if you don’t want me to be that close you can uh- you can leave. Or like, get up, and then I’ll leave. This is the only room with a tv, so I’ll let you stay here, but I can’t tell if you want me to be here or not, so. Okay, sorry, I’m rambling. Just… move if you want me to leave, okay?”

Ranboo waited for a response that didn’t come, then sighed. “Okay.” He kept his hands up and open while sitting down, waiting for a few moments before tucking his feet under himself to get more comfortable. “I’m just gonna stay here, okay? Like I said, just move if you want me to leave.”

The mask had tracked them to where they sat now, but the person—C—didn’t make a move to leave. Ranboo turned their attention to the tv, keeping an eye on their couch partner in their peripheral vision. During a moment of audience laughter in the show—I Love Lucy, they remembered—C turned their head back to the television as they had been before Ranboo walked in.

Seeing as how C (they needed a better name than that—) didn’t speak, this was the closest Ranboo could get to being told “you can stay here.” So they did. A few episodes later, his head was on the arm of the couch and his eyes were closed.

Five turned its attention to the Hero, who was now asleep. He had said it was a person, which was almost hilarious. And the Taken and the Hero seemed to think it couldn’t talk? They had to know it needed to be given permission first: any handler of a Drone or Prop knew that basic rule. It would wait until permission was given: it knew how to obey. It wasn’t meant to speak to a superior unless it was told it was allowed. It would wait.

…in the meantime, it studied its handler, the Hero. The other Actors, their two other handlers, called him ‘Ranboo’ but Five knew that wasn’t his actual label. The Hero was his character in the last show, and so that is who he was. Five didn’t know if Actors had a number, but he had been called the Hero in the script, and so the Hero he will be until the script changes.

It hoped to get new instructions, a new script for itself, something, soon. It was tired of simply watching the Actors go about their incredibly off-script show. It was sometimes told to participate, and since no other superiors were nearby, it had to obey its current handlers. But it was told to participate, to stir eggs, to help clean the kitchen, to attack small webs in corners with a stick with soft spikes on the end. Those sorts of things weren’t it’s usual directive, and so it found itself…

It didn’t resent its handlers. They were doing their best, and they at least knew that they were meant to give it orders. It simply wished they were familiar orders. It wished the Hero had told it to play dead, or play chase, or play camera, or caught, or prop. It would even listen if it was told to power down until needed. At least then it wouldn’t have to be conscious in this boring and unfamiliar set.

.

Y EA I know they probably don’t like tvs. Shhhhhh. I didn’t think about that until like. I had already written the tv part. At this moment it is 55 minutes past th hour and I want these characters to go the fuck to sleep so I can go thr fuck to sleep /lh

And yeah Five only uses “he” for glran. That is intentional. It’ll be talked about and shit later. Something about being put into a role, something about showfall being transphobic, something something I want to go to bed

Powering down = “sleeping” for a drone. Different but similar. I’ll explain how it works later?, anyway The others hav e told Five to “sleep” but it doesn’t understand because it is only ever told to “power down” so it’s like error.sleep_not_found and it stares at them like “bitch you said the wrong. Thing. You’re supposed to know how to control me so you don’t want me to power down I fucking guess” and it’s gonna be really funny after that miscommunication is taken care of.

If you remember the Five Gets A Cold And Wants To Throw Hands With Everyone post, this is wayyy before that. These motherfuckers are fresh out of showfall. Don’t ask how they got a house. I’ll figure it out

I am! Tired! I’m not proofreading this!! Goodnight please give me your thoughts if you have them. I need to know I didn’t sacrifice tbis much sleep in vain /nf /lh (I appreciate words but you are Not required to give them. Love you have a good nigt/p)

[heyitslapis]

I don't have time for people who don't have time for me

I don't have time for people who don't have time for me

I don't have time for people who don't have time for me

[b4kuch1n]

Hi, I've been inspired by the composition and abstract style of your artwork for a while now, if I made an experimental art piece inspired by your composition style would you want me to credit you as an inspo? or would you just not be comfortable with me using your art as inspiration altogether? (which is fine btw, i don't wanna do smth that would make you uncomfortable)

oh sure! feel free! I don't mind at all lol

[comvi]

I always have to remind myself that I don’t need to push myself to make art, and I don’t need to apologize or feel bad for not making a lot of art. art is something that should make me feel happy, so if I’m pushing myself to the point of not enjoying it anymore, then I should just stop and calm down for a second. and take some time for myself. Art won’t disappear, it will always be there waiting for me again, its okay for me to take some time doing others things sometimes.

[feline-evil]

🐈

[jeddara-of-jasoom]

You cannot be for the opposing side and their actions and "values" in the least if you actually risk your freedom and safety to protest against them.

The bravery of people who stand alone and face the regime, nothing in their hands but a sign

Russia is not monolithic, no matter how much the regime tells you they're "united"

The people who support the regime have 100% freedom to say what they say.

Those who oppose it are of course afraid to speak.

But some still do anyway. Even after all the examples they have of protesters arrested, harsh sentences. Horror stories of what happens to some.

Some people in Russia are still free. The freedom in their hearts won't be crushed, even if their physical freedom is taken away.

If freedom still burns in one heart, there is hope, because it can ignite thr freedom in others' hearts and eventually spread like wildfire.

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt the second dream story featuring a third dream story I can't remember if I ever talked abt. I <3 body horror bonus points if its slow and agonizing