#tbh i would go with a gun and let him fuck me with it

[sky-is-the-limit]

“my pussy has taken me places I wouldn’t go with a gun”

The places in question:

[l0vely-sturniolo]

TINTED WINDOWS

matt sturniolo x reader

tbh i didn’t know what to title this😭 but based off of matt’s story in todays car video and what it would be like to be his gf in the car with him when it all goes down :,).

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me and matt were at the store, getting things that he needed for the house, and things that the triplets needed for future videos. it was just me and matt, chris was at home working on some stuff for his brand, and nick was home editing this weeks friday video. we finished shopping and checked out, making our way back to the car.

as we walked back to the car, the security guard from inside the store spoke up, “tints a little dark, buddy.” he said. did he watch us the entire time to know exactly what car we were going to? matt looked over his shoulder, “yeah, it’s a little dark,” matt responded, and we kept walking. we put the bags in the car, before getting in.

matt started the car, and there was a knock on my window. i looked over, and saw the same security guard. “what the fuck?” i said, and matt looked over, and rolled his window down. “what’s up? what’s going on?” matt asked him. “you don’t have an answer for me on why that tints so dark?” he asked. i looked over at matt, confused as to why this grocery store security guard was so worried about matt’s window tint.

“no, not really,” matt responded. “so are you a cc?” the guy asked. “what even is that?” i asked. “i have no idea what that is,” matt said. “are you a cc?” he asked again. “no i don’t think so, i don’t know what that is,” matt responded. “concealed carry,” the guy responded. “no sir, i don’t have a gun in here,” matt responded.

“do you have any outstanding warrants?” the guy asked. “are you kidding me? all of this over some tinted windows?” i asked. “if i have any warrants, they’re not outstanding,” matt replied. i looked over at matt and he was shaking, and i reached over and grabbed his hand.

“we’ll see about that,” the guy said. “do we have a problem? is there something i need to be concerned about?” matt asked him. “we’ll just see about that,” the guy said, walking away. “oh my god, i’m gonna get put in handcuffs,” matt said, and he was still shaking. “baby, no..” i turned to looked at him. “he’s not even a cop, he’s a security guard from the store, didn’t you see his shirt? he shouldn’t even of been asking you about your windows,” i told him, rubbing his hand.

matt rolled his window up, taking a few deep breaths, before he started driving. “it’s okay baby, you’re okay, everything’s okay,” i told him, giving his hand a squeeze. matt started driving out of the parking lot, and out of the rear view mirror, i saw the security guard following us. “are you fucking kidding me?” i said, and matt looked and saw the car. “oh my god,” matt said.

“hey, hey.. it’s okay, just keep driving, he can’t do anything,” i said. “i don’t know what’s going on,” matt said. “me either baby, but it’s gonna be okay,” i told him. “he has no authority over you baby, he’s not a cop, i promise you’re okay, you’re not in trouble, nothings gonna happen,” i said still rubbing his hand.

matt turned right, and he followed us still. matt took another right, and he was still following us, and then he took one last right, and the guy went straight. “oh my god,” matt let out a sigh as he saw the guy go straight. “i almost had a heart attack,” matt said pulling over for a second, still shaking.

i reached over, pulling him into a quick hug, “i know baby, but you handled that well, and i’m proud of you,” i told him. “let’s go home incase he decides to be an asshole and come back,” i said, pulling away and leaning back into my seat. matt gave me a quick kiss, before pulling back off into the road, and we drove back home, this time with no interruptions, or security guards.

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tags:

@stayingstromboli

[notyourhetloki]

freak (Logan x Wade)

/NSFW Logan x Wade/

A/N: Hey theree! This one's a personal project of mine, I'm actually really proud of it and I hope you guys enjoy! It isn't a x reader like I usually write, but I wanted to try something new ;) I love these guys so much ughhh

Tags: nasty porn tbh, rough sex, anal, unprotected sex, bottom!Wade, top!Logan, Wolvie is feral and Wade is really into it, blood, pain play, a bit of feelings (especially in the end :3).

Word Count: 2.7k

—

It is a well-known fact that Wade Wilson doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up. His non-stop banter would take him places he wouldn't go with a gun (but he always brought one just in case), and many times would make him end up in a fight. His Wolverine, on the other hand, appreciated silence.

Logan Howlett was mostly a quiet man, pondering to himself most of the time. He could make a sassy commentary here and there, but in the end, he thrived in introspection.

He knew moving in with Wade would be a challenge, but deep down he liked having his company. He would never admit it, but Wade made the effort to understand him that many people didn't care to make, and Logan valued that... that and the always-present sexual tension between them.

But that doesn't mean Wade wouldn't get on his nerves. The younger man was a shit-talker and a joker, never missing a reference and definitely never missing a chance to comment on what Logan was doing... especially if that meant teasing him.

You see, Logan had a 'bad' habit of scratching himself when he had an itch. Sounds normal, right? It would be... if he didn't do it with his claws.

The first time Wade saw Logan using his claws to scratch his arm, he didn't miss a beat and immediately mocked him about it.

"Got an itch, kitty cat? Be careful ther-"

"I know what the fuck I'm doing." Retorted Logan, already irritated at his roommate.

The second time it happened, Wade witnessed Logan scratching his chin. It was too funny to not point it out, so of course he had to say something. "Trying to shave yourself this time? May I present you to a little gadget called Gillette?"

Logan didn't respond, only glared at him in annoyance.

But the third time... that was when things escalated. Logan was sitting on the couch, manspreading while using his claws to scratch his crotch. It was quick, but of course Wade noticed it. Wade's mouth was left agape at the sight, shocked and amused at the same time.

"Ok... you definitely outdid yourself this time, friend. Thank God for your adamantium balls." He teased while laughing, standing right in front of his target.

"Shut up." Said Logan in a huff, averting his eyes.

"No, really! Like, that was badass! Scratching your ballsack with three super-sharp blades? You're a freak."

Logan momentarily froze at that word, slowly getting up from the sofa and getting close to Wade so he could intimidate him. "Come again?"

"You're a... freak? Just like me, mutton chops. We're both freaks." Wade tried justifying, but to no avail.

"I'm no freak, pal. Call yourself what you want, but don't drag me into it." Logan pointed a finger to the other man's chest, poking him to make his point.

Wade suddenly felt self-conscious for once and realized... Logan probably had a history with that word, and it was definitely not a good one. He quickly recovered and tried explaining himself to him. "Noo, you don't get it... freak is a good thing! The youths say it all the time, it's a slang!"

"I don't care what the youths say, I'm not buying it." Logan protested.

"I say this with love, Wolvie... I get it. But after all, there's nothing wrong with being a freak. Isn't that the whole X-Men premise?"

Logan thought for a moment and realized Wade was right. The X-men taught him to not be ashamed of himself, to not let anyone dictate who he was. But words still had meaning and maybe he could resignify them, empower himself and recognize... maybe he was a bit freakish.

He looked Wade up and down before distancing himself slightly. The realization only made Logan even more aware of the fact Wade wanted to connect with him... and he found that extremely endearing.

That attraction grew with every passing day, like an unwanted visitor, a tumor... gnawing at his chest and consuming every thought he had. He wanted Wade with an intensity he could only describe as needy, feelings getting too loud to ignore.

"Maybe you're right..." Logan admitted, finally making eye contact. Wade smiled sweetly as he crossed his arms, giving his roommate a look that made his breath falter.

Logan hadn't noticed Wade's appearance up to that point, he was wearing shorts and a plain white T-shirt. Wade was showing a lot of his scarred skin in that outfit, and Logan couldn't help but stare... a known heat growing in his belly from the tension rising in the room.

Tension that grew bigger when Wade slightly turned his head sideways, observing Logan's eyes roaming through his body. Logan knew Wade knew, and that only made things worse.

“You know what? I think we match each other’s freak, munchkin.” Breaking the silence, Wade made an effort to maintain eye contact, arms still crossed in a bratty way.

“You sure about that?" Logan licked his lips and also turned his head like a puppy, keeping Wade in his place with his stare.

“Yep! But in reality, I don’t think you could handle my freak, peanut.” Wade tried teasing, feeling his body warm up with anticipation.

Logan scoffed with a laugh, turning to walk away. "Yeah, right."

“But I’m sure you could try!” Desperately said Wade in an effort to keep Logan close... and it worked.

Logan turned towards him and slowly walked in Wade's direction, who had to walk backwards so they wouldn't collide. When Wade's back hit a wall, Logan finally spoke as he got inches close to his face. "And why would I do that?”

They were close enough to breathe each other's air, smell each other's scent and look at their own reflection in each other's eyes. Their hearts were beating fast, and no rational thought could deny what they felt at that moment. It was pure raw tension, a build-up that took ages to finally reach its peak.

“Because it would be fun! And because… I really really want you to.” Wade's voice got serious at that last part and made shivers run down Logan's spine. Was he being honest? Did Wade want Logan as much as Logan wanted him?

He didn't have time to think before acting on impulse, staring at Wade's lips for only a moment before grabbing him by the T-shirt and kissing him hard. Wade immediately reciprocated, tongues meeting halfway while his hands moved to Logan's face.

One of Logan's hands still grabbed Wade's shirt while the other traveled to his waist, pulling him even closer. They kissed roughly and quickly, as if they had wasted so much time. Logan bit on Wade's lip and grunted as the other man moaned in response to the pain, ecstatic with the waves of pleasure that the bite provided.

Logan could taste Wade's blood in his mouth and that only made him hornier, a sudden need for violence and sex that he knew only Wade could handle.

"I wanna hurt you... real bad." Logan groaned at Wade's bruised lips, looking into his eyes while strongly holding him by the waist.

"Show me what you got, babe." Wade was enthusiastic, ready and really horny. Nothing could take that away from him at that moment, and a little bit (or a lot) of pain was definitely a plus in his mind.

Logan's eyes grew darker as he helped Wade take his shirt off before taking his own as well. They both stared at each other's chests before roaming their hands, exploring... it felt electric and so so good.

When he couldn't hold back anymore, he lowered his head to bite on Wade's shoulder, teeth tearing flesh and drawing blood while Wade hissed in pain with his eyes tightly closed. Logan realized he couldn't stop, biting and marking Wade's already scarred skin like he was a hungry dog while the other man clung to him to anchor himself.

Logan’s heightened sense of smell could usually capture people’s fear and anxiety, but Wade didn’t exude that particular scent, no… he was aroused. Logan could smell it coming out of his pores like his very own perfume, it was intoxicating and didn’t fail to drive him even further into his frenzy.

"You like that, huh?" He said between bites, sharp canines piercing rough skin and causing Wade to moan beautifully. "Fucking depraved."

They could feel their boners rubbing on each other as they moved and connected their groins together, their sensitive members absolutely desperate for more direct contact.

"Ha, if I'm depraved then what are you, Mr. Sadomasochist?" Wade's breathing was erratic as Logan abruptly turned him around and pinned him facing the wall, tearing his shorts and underwear with his half-exposed claws as he tried to remove them.

The claws lightly scratched his exposed ass, healing almost immediately as Logan squeezed the tender flesh. He spat on his fingers and promptly started massaging Wade's hole, easing in not-so-gently and fingering the younger man.

"Holy shit, Logan..." Wade's voice trembled as he felt his roommate's fingers in and out of him harshly, the burning sensation felt so good it made his dick throb in anticipation.

The sound of his name coming out of Wade's mouth was enough to wake something dark in him. Logan rarely heard the other man calling out his actual name, but when he did... it always managed to fuck him up.

"You're ready for me, bub?" Logan's deep hoarse voice vibrated into Wade's ear, a last act of gentleness before he knew things would get nasty.

"I was born ready." Wade softly affirmed, his cheek and hands pressed into the wall, bracing himself.

Logan lowered his sweatpants and his cock immediately sprung out as he removed his fingers from the other man. He spat on his hand again and stroked himself a few times before slowly entering Wade's ass until he was balls deep into him.

Wade couldn't see it, but he felt that Logan's cock was huge (just like he had imagined)... filling him up completely and hurting him in the best possible way. "Ah... fuck..." He couldn't stop cursing and moaning, his own dick already dripping with a bit of precum.

"Yeah... so fucking tight..." After Logan buried himself inside Wade for a bit, he finally started moving. It was inconsistent at first, out of rhythm, but soon he found a good hard pace that only got more urgent with every thrust. "I'm gonna fuck you so good you're gonna start seeing stars."

"Oh, God..." Was all Wade managed to say before one of Logan's hands traveled to his neck, squeezing his throat and choking him dizzy.

Logan's other hand grabbed so hard on Wade's waist that his fingertips dug into his skin, leaving bruises that he would definitely remember if it wasn't for his regeneration factor.

Wade arched his back even further at the feeling, matching and meeting Logan's movements causing the man to almost cry out at the sight.

He pulled Wade's hips towards him to meet his every thrust, fucking him like an animal while biting on the other man's ear. Logan grunted from pleasure, taking out all of his frustrations without having to feel guilty about it.

Wade was in pure bliss, getting railed by his super-hot roommate while being choked silly. He couldn't talk, but he could definitely still moan and make obscene noises while his neglected dick achingly throbbed. Logan was right, he was definitely seeing stars at that point.

The bites Wade received were constantly healing, but Logan opened the wounds repeatedly with his teeth while never stopping pounding into his ass. He let out animalistic sounds, feeling out of his mind as Wade squeezed around him and moaned loudly. Everything was so overwhelming but so damn good, he couldn't get enough.

Wade's sweet spot was being abused again and again with every thrust of Logan's cock, achingly getting hit by the member and causing electric pleasure to run through his body. Wade could feel his orgasm growing inside rapidly as Logan squeezed his neck tighter, biting his shoulders while snarling and cussing.

If he could talk at that moment, Wade would be saying "Fucking hell, please don't stop.", but all he could do was shake through his climax. He came untouched, strings of his cum shooting between the wall and his stomach while he closed his eyes in ecstasy.

Logan noticed the whole thing, not letting go of the other man as Wade's legs slightly turned to jelly. "Fuck, Wade..." was all he managed to speak through his ragged breath, still not stopping his hips from moving.

He stopped choking Wade and concentrated on holding the younger man's waist as he furiously rammed his hips forward, barely taking his member out before thrusting again... it was quick, dirty and messy. The slapping sounds their bodies made together only fed into his uncontrollable state, and of course, Wade's moans made him absolutely feral.

Logan was close, quickening up his already wild pace for one last moment before biting on Wade's shoulder again and coming inside him. He growled against Wade's skin as he closed his eyes shut, pleasure waves hitting him in a way he had never felt before.

They stayed in that position for a while, Wade's body flush against the wall as Logan leaned forward, now resting his mouth on the other man's shoulder. They breathed in and out deeply, exhausted and dumb from their respective highs as their bodies tingled with energy.

"Oh, wow... holy shit." Wade started giggling to himself, not believing what just had happened. "Are you alright, peanut?"

Logan inhaled and exhaled through his mouth, eyes still closed in an attempt to ground himself. "Yeah... I'm fine." He was more than fine, in fact, he couldn't remember a time when he felt so fucking satisfied... but of course, he would never admit it.

Logan opened his eyes slowly to see he was still inside Wade, so he slowly retracted himself and watched as cum dripped from his roommate's hole. It was then that he realized what had happened, and a wave of worry hit him like a brick. "Are... are you good, bub?" Logan's voice was serious, a hint of concern that Wade immediately picked up.

"Better than ever! But I appreciate the worry, sweetheart." Wade said, turning around to face the other man and raising his arms to rest on Logan's shoulders.

"I wasn't worried." Logan lied, not willing to give in so easily. He looked at Wade's shining hazel eyes and felt tightness in his chest, and in that moment he knew he had fucked up... he was down bad.

"Sure..." Wade's eyes were fixated on Logan's mouth, not being able to resist as he quickly made his way to kiss the man. That kiss was more tender, slow and sensual and full of feeling. Whatever Logan was repressing at that time came to the surface with such intensity it made him feel dizzy, holding tightly to Wade's waist and drawing him closer.

They kissed for a few good minutes before separating, still panting as they looked into each other's eyes. In a brief moment, Logan closed his eyes and decided to touch foreheads with Wade, who reciprocated the gesture gently.

"You're gonna make me fall for you, Wolvie." Wade whispered earnestly, petting the back of the man's hair. Logan purred at the sensation and felt his chest swell again with feelings he couldn't quite keep secret anymore.

He didn't want to be vulnerable, but honestly... he had tasted Wade's blood, fucked him silly and cummed inside him, maybe being a little vulnerable was only fair at that point.

"Good." Logan responded, opening his eyes at the same time Wade opened his. They looked at each other again, foreheads still touching while Logan drew circles on Wade's skin.

Wade smiled sweetly and Logan smiled back shyly before closing the gap again and kissing him gently.

Logan was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but if there's one conclusion he could take from that experience... it's that he and Wade were freaks, and freaks were meant to stick together.

—

[arreuyas]

HOW MUCH? | Toji X Male! Reader

*⁠.⁠✧ In which he was paid to kill you but you offer him to get fucked instead.

warnings: sub!toji, degradation, edging, spanking/slapping, choking, bratty toji, cursing, toji is a bit out of character tbh, zenin bc he doesn't have megumi and his wife here.

wordcount: 1.8k

—

TOJI ZENIN, the sorcerer killer, doesn't do any extra work for free. But it's not against his rules to accept a request from a client who is a sorcerer. He doesn't question his client's motives or what they are after all, what matters it the good ol' money.

That's why, when he had a gun aimed at your head and you smirked instead of trying to doge or counter-attack like most sorcerers would do, he raised an eyebrow until the words left your lips: “How much for getting laid by me? I'll pay double of what you're going to get.”

Of course, betraying his clients is one thing that he doesn't do. So yes, he did shoot you, pissed off that those were your last words— or were supposed to be, since the bullet didn't get through your head at all. His eyes widened when you appeared in front of him, hands in your pockets and eyes of someone who wasn't planning to fight him.

“C'mon, don't be like that~” you smiled, your sneaky hand going to his waist and bringing him closer. At this point Toji was so dumbfounded that he took some time to understand what was happening. It was the first time his target flirted with him so blatantly, after all. “How about three times the price, then? Three times the amount and you let me fuck you once.”

Three times the price of your head... it was big money, and it certainly catched his interest. It's not like Toji minded sleeping with men after all, the problem was betraying his client. “And an extra so you can kill whoever it was who asked for my head.”

Alright, that was enough to convince a money-hungry like Toji. He lowered his gun, still a but uncertain about the deal but fuck it, he would think about the consequences later. You smirked with that reaction from the non-sorcerer.

That's how you two ended up in a hotel room, Toji sitting down on your lap, straddling with that big ass of his. You already had a prominent bulge on your pants as the Zenin rubbing his covered rear and dick against your thigh, letting out some grunts between his heavy breaths from time to time.

Fucking humiliating. It was what Toji thought. He was literally acting like a whore— moving himself on top of you for some money. Well, at least the money was way higher than what a whore would get, but still...

“Damnit, stop fucking teasing me.” He protested when you started pinching his exposed nipples, another grunt coming from him as his body trembled. That bulky man wasn't used to having anyone touching him like that, he usually was the one who held the reins in bed.

“What, can't handle a bit of teasing, sorcerer killer?” You chuckled, rubbing the wet spot on his boxers, the pre-cum leaking out his tip already.

“Can't you just fuck me already–” You stopped his words with a rough spank on his ass, making him shut up with a groan. One of his hands instinctively moving to hold your shoulder.

“Shut up, slut.” You hissed, taking him off your lap and throwing him in bed. Then you unbuckled your belt, glaring down at him. “Take off your pants and spread your legs for me.”

Toji was about to complain but instead he rolled his eyes and obliged the command, getting himself naked. Yet, he didn't spread his legs, receiving a sigh from you. You got on top of the bed, your hand moving to his neck before he could react and gripping tightly on it, chocking him just slightly.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. Understand?” You gripped tighter on his neck but Toji kept glaring at you, a hand on your wrist threatening to break your arm. “Unless you want to forget about the money and fight me instead. And believe me when I tell you I'm going to make you fight while being naked.”

He let go with a groan, and you let his neck free again— a reddish mark of your digits on the skin of his neck and you liked it. When you looked down, Toji's dick was twitching and more precum was leaking from it, then you chuckled with a raised eyebrow. “Oh? Someone likes getting choked and degraded? Such a whore.”

You grabbed a lube from the bedside table, pouring the liquid on your fingers and some on Toji's rear, then watching it go down to the entrance of his ass, his naughty hole blinking. You didn't wait much though, there was no reason to be gentle with him— and you knew that Toji would prefer that way, too. So you immediately inserted two fingers inside, already moving them to loosen him up. Toji grunted, biting his lower lip with his eyebrows furrowed before you added a third finger.

The Zenin had such a nice body, it almost looked like a sin— as if he was begging to be fucked. After all, what's the use of having such thick thighs and such a sexy ass if not for fucking them? You glanced down at him while playing with his hole, fingering him and teasing his prostate, your other hand stroking your cock slowly.

“Enough of foreplay. Spread your hole for me.” You said, watching him click his tongue in annoyance but still doing as you told. You held one of his legs on top of your shoulder. “And stop rolling your eyes or clicking your tongue every time I tell you to do something, it's getting me soft.”

Toji scoffed.

“Ha. Then maybe you're not a real man if a roll of eyes is enough to—” He couldn't finish his sentence as you thrusted your cock inside, invading his hole in one swift move. He gasped, his hands letting go from his ass to grab a handful of the sheets as he glared at you like he wanted to kill you.

You smirked down at him with a mocking gaze. “What were you saying about real man again? I don't think I heard you.” You teased, pulling your cock halfway out before slamming it back inside, the Zenin letting out a grunt. You moved your free hand to pinch his nipple, pulling on it.

“You bastard...” He muttered as you stopped your hips for a moment, leaning down to his chest. Your tongue licked and sucked his right nipple then your teeth sunk down for a bite, Toji flinched and groaned from pain mixed with pleasure. “The hell are you doing–”

“Taming you.” You cut him off with a sadistic smile. Toji wanted to make that smile of yours disappear because he was starting to like it more than he should. “From now on, every single time you complain or call me anything that isn't master you're going to be punished.”

You chuckled, pulling your cock out almost completely and slamming it back in, moving in slow thrusts. “Understand?”

You spanked his ass again, a silent warning for him to answer. The non-sorcerer groaned, biting his lip in both annoyance and pleasure. “Yes...” He took a second to continue: “...Master.”

“See? It's not that hard to stop being such a brat.” You said, starting to fasten the pace of your thrusts. Who the hell are you calling a brat? Toji wanted to shout, but didn't. Your veiny, fat cock was filling his insides and the tip pressing against his prostate was making Toji flinch every time you aimed at that spot. He was starting to actually moan too, instead of only letting out those grunts and heavy breaths of his.

The moment you grabbed his dick and starting stroking it he whimpered, one of his hands grabbing the sheets as the other was behind him, grasping the pillow. He felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge as you moved back and forth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Faster— Ugh, I'm close...”

But then you stopped moving your hips, pressing your thumb against the tip of his cock. The Zenin's eyes immediately moved to you, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance and confusion. “What are you doing? I said I'm close to cumming.”

“I heard what you said,” you chuckled, slamming your cock inside one more time then stopping. “You're going to beg for if you want to cum. Or else we're staying like this for the rest of the evening.”

“Beg? Me? Ha. In your dreams–” Slap! Toji's eyes widened when he felt the hit against his cheek, his teeth gritting in anger as he glared at you, his mouth already opening to protest when you raised your hand again, now spanking his ass instead. “Fuck, cut it out!”

“Beg.” You repeated, your thumb making small circles on the tip of his hard cock, smearing the precum as his body squirmed under your touch. Toji knew he was at his breaking point and being unable to orgasm didn't hurt yet, but it was certainly uncomfortable.

“Damnit... Please, let me cum.” He muttered, glancing away with a frown. You raised an eyebrow with a chuckle, shaking your head in response. Another spank on his ass, Toji letting out a low moan.

“Beg like you mean it, non-sorcerer.” You said in a seductive whisper, your tongue sticking out from your lips to lick his neck up to his jaw.

“Please!” He said, thrusting his hips up against your touch, searching for his high only to be stopped by your hands keeping him still. The Zenin was physically stronger than you, and he knew that. But maybe because he was too horny he couldn't react very well or even think about fighting back and dominate you instead.

“Not enough.” You said, threatening to pull your dick out from him but his legs instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you back inside. You hummed in amusement, not expecting that from him. “So?”

“Please...” he repeated, then added: “Master. Keep fucking my guts until I cum.” You noticed how Toji couldn't keep glaring at you. He was embarrassed, and you found that cute. It was so unlike Toji to act so submissive like that from the little bit of time you talked with him.

“You still have a lot to learn... but for now I'll let it pass.” It was weird how you talked as if this wouldn't be the first and last time you two slept together. But Toji didn't have much time to react, as you finally started moving again, your cock inside him and your hand moving tightly and fast around his shaft.

“Fuck! Yes– Harder!” He moaned out loud and it only took a few more thrusts and strokes for him to shoot his cum, his back arching and his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his legs trembled around you. His seed dirtied his abdomen and his hole clenched against your cock tightly, almost not letting you move.

It was such a sexy sight. You also didn't endure much after that, cumming right after him. Your load being pumped deep inside the Zenin as you let out a grunt, biting your lower lip with a smirk.

After some seconds and when the ecstasy broke down, Toji switched back to his cold mode almost immediately, looking at you. “About the money– What–” His eyes widened when you thrusted against him again, a involuntary whimper leaving his lips. You were still hard.

“Oh? I don't remember saying we were done. How much for a round two?”

—

©2023 hanfobia do not repost, modify, dist. or translate.

[gladiatorcunt]

you nailed how i imagined modern!feyd to be (batshit crazy) but you think he‘d let cute hello kitty reader put like stickers and bows on his motorcycle and stuff lmao? would he be an ass and be mean about it or would he allow it because reader is all sad and mopey otherwise 😔🎀 (maybe brat reader? like how would mans handle that in the modern au because in the canon verse pissing him off is a bit too scary) and alsoooo i laughed my ass off when you wrote he would debone coryo like a fish because yuh that twink (he could do bad things to me) wouldn’t stand a chance fr

he would actually make coryo so concerned, like they’re both from well off families (feyd just does underground fighting bc for the #love of the game) but coryo will be like “these poor people are CRAZY.” coryo gives off the vibes of he’d tell someone to kill for him (especially when he gets older, or he wouldn’t get his hands dirty if he does it himself & he’s methodical), feyd is tearing out throats with his teeth. he’d tackle his uncle and start stabbing, he’d gnaw his own arm off just for fun like you can’t compete where you don’t compare tbh. (coryo’s still my bf tho <3)

anyway,

cw: 18+ mdni, typical feyd warnings, spanking/pain play type stuff

modern!feyd would only let you put stickers on his bike if they’re the ones that are like hello kitty holding a gun or something. it’s not like he’s afraid that the softer ones will undermine his masculinity or anything, feyd’s ripping into other men with no real regard for keeping their bodies intact, it’s just that the cutesy stickers go on his helmet. he’ll let you tie a ribbon around his bicep and film videos of him flexing and making it pop off. he would wear matching pjs with you, but he doesn’t want to get blood on them so he sticks to his trusty sweats. he’s the kind of person to wear black in the hot summer sun because he’s spiteful enough to not give a fuck about heatstroke, like it’s something he could fight lmao. gets a matching dear daniel x hello kitty tattoo with you i fear, or a my melody x kuromi one since that’s more your dynamic.

brat!reader with canon era feyd does scare me to death, but with modern!feyd it’s fun to think about…. to a degree. like if you keep it up, he’s pausing the match and dragging you inside the ring to spank you in front of everyone. open palm strikes with half of his strength, if he used all of it your ass might fall off. his rings add even more sting. you learn quickly to know when to pack it up and throw in the towel, because he will NEVER be the one to test out your devious little ideas and macinations out on. he’ll shove a vibrator up your pussy and take you for a long ride on his bike, ignoring the way you try to hump him as he points out the sights he thinks you’d be interest in. weirdly punishes you by fucking nice and slow when you want your shit rocked, he doesn’t even edge you or anything, he just gives it you so soft and sweet and holds your hips down so you can’t try to buck them.

in some ways, you being at his matches has helped his abilities. (you do have to come to his fights btw, if you’re not there expect the rumble of his engine to be heard outside of wherever you’re at. feyd will get his unlce to cancle the match if you’re not there, he’s ultimately a certain kind of performer and if the key audience member isn’t there??? what’s the point.) he has to keep an eye on you, which helps him multitask. he’ll be punching some fuckin’ loser into an unrecognizable pulp while, out of the corner of his eye, making sure that no one’s trying to drag you into any wagers or into their cars. he’s curious if you could cum just from watching one of his fights, from hearing the agonized whimpers of his opponent as feyd effortlessly conquers them. something about you must be sick, because the more ruthless he is in a fight, the higher you’re jumping on him and the more marks you’re sucking into his neck.

you’re so clumsy with it, always putting too much teeth into your hickeys. but that’s just the way he likes it, because you know he’s actively holding back from biting you so hard that’s nearly cannibalizing you. (side note: loves gorey horror, nothing too funny or artsy, he likes shit that cares more about the pure carnage than quips or wide camera shots. hannibal is too “fancy” for him, he always asks you to explain what the fuck they’re talking about.) definition of mauling you like a bear, fucking him is like meeting God if they were an eldritch horror and you were on the brink of death. it is NOT for the weak, his thick arms holding you in a headlock as he pistons his gigantic cock into your cervix. he makes you cum until pass out, then he makes you do it again to wake you up. really good at resetting your brain if you need him too.

modern!feyd who gives you the ultimate scary guard dog priviledge. you’re going about your business in a store and he’s practically vibrating behind you, foaming at the mouth and waiting for some mf to try it with you so he can berserk. but no one ever takes the bait, just one look at his deranged ass and they’re swiftly turning on their heels and high tailing it out of the apple store (you’re taking too long to pick what color imac you want.) copies whatever pictures you saw on pinterest, acting as your little prop. wrapping a tattooed hand around your throat, mirror selfies where he’s holding you over his shoulder by your ass, gross close ups of his long tongue wrapped around yours, insta stories directed at paul specficially bc he won’t stay out of your dms. asks his opponents for date ideas while he’s beating their ass 💀, made his uncle organize a remartch (even though feyd won) with the guy who limped over to your adorably clad in pink form and asked you to get boba (because he noticed feyd giving you your favorite before his fights).

pierced dick, would sharpen his teeth and make his tongue forked. face tattoos + whatever piercing’s more painful. big in body mods overalls like he sees himself as an extension of his motorcycle that he’s always illeggaly modding, fast and furious type specs that no court of law would deem road safe. but he always devotes part of his brain to making sure you’re safe when you ride along with him, reaching behind him and his black painted nails rubbing comforting little circles into your plush thighs. ambidextrous by choice and practice, for sure has a cauliflower ear. whenever you’re sad and pouting, he’s grabbing your chin in between his thumb an pointer finger and lifting your head up so he lovingly teases you about being a crybaby and so he can lick your tears away. (and he doesn’t even do it with sexual intent, feyd’s genuinely just trying to consume your sadness directly since word’s aren’t his strong suit.) could fall asleep in an ice bath, has done it before, dad type snoring like you wouldn’t believe.

loves it when you ride him in any kind of water, you have to pack extra strength sun screen if you’re going to be out in the sun though bc he WILL burn more often than not. still has your pussy gorilla glue gripping his length though, there’s no pain on earth that would put him out of comission & that’s a promise.

[tonydaddingham]

it was about the coffee

edit 24/11: rip miracle blocker theory, my love

but possibly not the way we thought it was. this is going to sound so convoluted but bear with me here (and big thanks to the anon that precipitated this theory, and major apologies that writing this theory is only going to delay my answer to your ask even further💕)

a major plot-point for me in s2 was this bad boy:

which i think we can safely say is a very op power for demons to possess for it not to come up again later on in the show? it's almost like a parallel to the book of life on that front - which is mentioned in the bookshop in ep6, but we've all agreed is pretty much going to be a major chekhov's gun in s3, right? well, what about the miracle blocker?

why wouldn't shax think of getting one either from furfur or from beelzebub when storming the bookshop? well, could be that shax didn't think of it. true - but i do wonder if something iffy was in fact going on in ep5/ep6 showdown, right up into the Final Fifteen.

let's start here: aziraphale has got some reality-bending bullshit going on, which i think is possibly just naturally emanating from aziraphale himself (im not wholly convinced it's entirely in-character for him to purposefully fuck with people's heads and autonomy) and perhaps the dancing/outfits/emotions etc is just the image he wanted for the dance, and his magic (?) essentially made it happen, so much so that he was potentially taken in by it too... hence why he was so readily resistant to crowley's pleas to listen to him about the danger? idk, getting sidetracked.

but anyway, then the demons come, and we see the below where... randomly, aziraphale's miracles/magic doesn't work. and there's no given reason for it:

soon after this, aziraphale opens the portal; one thing on reflection? that portal opens damn fucking fast. sure, the peril is high, certainly higher than s1 when he had to pray and practically beg to speak to someone... but if the portal is more or less for metatron's direct use, and the metatron is so damn busy, being the voice of god... why would he be sat there waiting for a call?

s1, the time between aziraphale starting to pray/dial 9-1-heaven, and the portal opening (excluding where he shouts to shadwell that the shop is closed) is just over 31 seconds. s2, from "hello, is there anybody there" to portal opening is just over 5. a very short cut-down for a retired, traitorous angel, regardless of whether they're under attack (which, tbh, would be in heaven's interests, right? for aziraphale to get Got?). the explanation for that can only be, in my book, that metatron has been watching... and possibly has been since the first time the portal opened.

anyway, we then move on to metatron arriving at the bookshop, and offering aziraphale the coffee. others have reported a miracle chime, and tbh i too can hear at least a faint, high strong, that sounds out of place in the ambient sound of the scene. video below, where ive marked out where i can hear it:

we know that aziraphale doesn't drink coffee. tea, hot chocolate, wine... but he's never, as far as we've seen, canonically drunk coffee. he must have tried it at some point, crowley likes it/drinks it, so why wouldn't aziraphale have tried it at some point? well, i think he probably has, and didn't like it. i think he tried to change it, in front of the metatron, so he could take a sip and not be offensive. but... it doesn't work. aziraphale's reaction is awkward. and metatron's reaction is smug. i think metatron has a miracle blocker.

aziraphale is not stupid. i think he knows possibly from that moment, or very soon after, that metatron has been up to something. i think he knows that metatron might have eyes and ears everywhere. i think aziraphale has worked out that metatron is not in fact A Nice Old Man, and knows it right through until he gets in the lift (which im going to talk about more in the aforementioned anon ask). i don't think aziraphale has been overtly threatened, because the metatron has worked so hard in this scene to be non-threatening. but he has underestimated how smart aziraphale actually is.

making the offer to reform heaven appeals to aziraphale, there is no doubt on that. and aziraphale is desperate for crowley to be with him - not only on the layer of wanting to be together, or another layer of crowley deserving to have heaven make amends to him, or even the layer wanting to protect crowley under his status as supreme archangel... but because if aziraphale walks away, without crowley, crowley has nowhere safe to go. the bookshop has been compromised, and it is no longer safe. metatron with his almond syrup has Eyes and Ears everywhere. when crowley refuses, aziraphale has to get to heaven, and to metatron, before they get to him.

i do completely believe that aziraphale wants to help heaven, and possibly seek any way in which he can return it to what he thinks or believes was god's original purpose for it - to return or make it into the place that was always meant to stand for good and justice and love. but i also believe that now, more than ever, aziraphale teeters on the edge of giving heaven a chance - or being burnt to ashes, literally or figuratively. idk about you, but i have a gut feeling on what option he, in this moment, would be inclined to take.

[decepti-thots]

☕ ~ trans woman whirl?

I love trans Whirl headcanons but I think I love them for totally different reasons than I usually see, tbh? That is- I think a lot of the time the fandom just goes 'oh! Girl Holoform Spotted! now this character is girl, and we can say character is trans girl because in the comic they are called he/him' and tbh I find that attitude as fandom often implements it annoying for a couple reasons; one, it often feels like a kind of 'if character Looks Like Girl, well, character Is Girl' deal which tbh feels kinda shallow to me ngl, and two, it (and similar under-expanded upon headcanons) not infrequently seems to be a way for the fandom as a whole to justify the general lack of content for the very explicitly canon trans characters by instead being like 'all the material we make for these characters not treated as such in canon proves that we definitely love trans characters. don't think about how lug or anode or arcee don't get that same attention, or that this content only offhandedly actually deals with transness 90% of the time', you know? Bit mean, but I can't help but feel that's a repeated tendency in the fandom, tbh. I would feel less like this if the fanon trans headcanons did not just vaguely go 'oh. also ig they are trans, how nice' with no follow up and instead actually treated these characters as having opinions about being trans, but in too many cases they unfortunately... don't. (And no, them being robots is not an excuse. Anode has opinions on this. Arcee has opinions on this, a lot of them!) But we're here to talk about Whirl, and I want to talk about why I do love trans Whirl, so.

I love trans Whirl for reasons far outside of that, and I think taking that approach to the idea does it a disservice tbqh. Specifically I like trans Whirl for the same reason I like reading Verity as trans, because it adds to Whirl's character arc about being denied agency over identity and clawing it back on purpose in a way where the trans reading feels especially resonant and like it genuinely adds to the overall subtext of her arc. Whirl's entire character is one where the violent removal of agency in her life is so much a focus it changes the course of history; Whirl refusing to let the functionists that ruined her life win is why Elegant Chaos plays out as it does. Whirl is a character whose entire sense of self as a person with the ability to make any choices at all was viciously ripped away from her, and in turn a character whose response to that is to make her ability to choose exactly what she does so utterly undeniable that even if you hate her, even if you think she's repulsive, even if you want to throttle her, you cannot pretend she is not in control. In that specific context, adding in the idea that she would choose her own gender, in defiance of a Cybertronian culture that implicitly treats gender as an alien unwelcome influence, so she can have what she wants- that rules. There's also such a line to be drawn there between Arcee's arc and Whirl, I think, that is so great. That's where I see why it is so good. Being seen as just a gun to be aimed that everyone professes distaste for but still wants to stick around and do dirty work, but you insist upon your interiority being seen as just that; your interiority. And all the things the people who want to do to you which you hate being what you embrace. It's fantastic. I simply prefer that as an angle through which to view the ideas than like... haha well Whirl's holoform is Girl With Guns how funny. You know?

And one of her most "humanising" moments is when she extends that to someone else. I'm thinking of when she tells Tailgate that Cyclonus was lying about his injuries; that part where Cyclonus is trying to protect Tailgate in a way that is ultimately toxic for them both. Sure, everyone else agrees that the best way to handle this is to lie for your own good so you don't make a decision people don't want you to. But that's not fucking fair, and who gets to decide what's "your own good"? Viewing that in light of a Whirl who is not just vaguely a woman but specifically linking that to the way Whirl's rigidly defined role under a functionist heel ruined her sense of identity, because they know what's best for you whether you like it or not- damn, that is COMPELLING. And I find that just. So much more compelling than what fandom so often does with the idea. Whirl, above all else, knows how important demanding agency is. I think that makes Whirl a character ripe for a reading as trans, and I love that for her so much. she'll grab you by the throat and make you acknowledge her. and she's right every step of the way, no matter how much you want to look away. i love her.

tl;dr WHIRL TRANS WOMAN GOOD. LOVE IT. no really i just, it's so good.

[happypotato48]

GMMTV 2025 Part 1 Unhinged Tangent Thoughts

Well well well, here we go again. gmmtv the first horseman of the QL apocalypse has grace/curse us again with their presence. surely there would be something worth watching out of this branded trash fire. i will left that one het show out because i don't go there but lol, Nanon really is the last bastion for straight people huh? 🤣

รักแห่งสยาม (The Love of Siam) The Musical : i was 12 when this movie came out so i didn't watched it in theater, only catch it later online when i was in my late teen. tbh i didn't really liked it, i was knee deep in yaoi at that point so i found this movie to be a bit boring. let see how it goes but fornow... no comment.

Dare you to death ไขคดีเ��็น เห็นคดีตาย : Eeh, not gonna lie i'm not feeling this one fams. joongdunk doesn't sold me as an actors that could do mystery well. i might be wrong but i'm putting this one for a maybe.

ไหนใครว่าพวกมันไม่ถูกกัน (Head 2 Head) : Only boo! did major disappointed me, and this one seems to be a basic BL so i'm not having much hope. but i still want to see how SeaKeen doing as an growing actors. i'm going to tune in for the first couple EPs then see how it goes.

Burnout Syndrome ภาวะรักคนหมดไฟ : They already got me at Off being naked, and a messy love triangle nonetheless yes plzzzz. glasses guy (i refuse to learn his name) need more workshop, he's too stiff and wooden to sell me on this messy romance he going to has with Gun.

คุณวาฬร้านชำ (Whale Store xoxo) : Its looks cute and i do like LoveMilk. another one in the show up for the couple first EPs pile.

Only Friends : Dream On : or as i dubbed Only Firends 2 These Homosexuals are about to get electrocute boogaloo. i refused to watch Only Friends season one and i will refuse this show again. .... will definitely show up for sex scenes that will get cut up an posts on twitter tho.

That Summer ผมเจอเจ้าชายบนชายหาด : NOPE! next one plz. jk this one seems boring and basic and i hate prince and princess story in thai media. cuz you know the la majeste law is a thing so they are always come from some imagined country and i just don't like that. this one goes to the never to maybe if i hear some buzz pile.

My Romance Scammer รักจริง หลังแต่ง : Sign me the fuck up! let gooo! i'm in a weddings mood and this one has Hot Ohm as a scammer and Dimple Fluke as a dumb himbo whose marriage someone after knowing them for a month. yessss! this show is specifically made for me and i will be seated! Mark and Junior also there i guess.

ความลับในบทเพลงที่บรรเลงไม่รู้จบ (Melody of Secrets) : this show is not really my style but forcebook is forcebook and i'm an easy whore. plus they did ripped my heart out in that ep of PP. i will be watching with caution cause let be real we have no faith in gmmtv to pull this kind of thing off :P

รักครูเท่าโลกเลย Love you teacher : *a loud voice of thousand people yelling Shame! Shame! in background, me tapping the mic : Perth might pull this one off y'all. LET ME COOK! hear me out hear me out this trailer is the first time that Perth feels like he understood the assignment. he looks grumpy and tired but also really in love with Santa's character. this is the first time that this boy made me feels things and i'm just happy for him. AND LET ME BE CLEAR i never read any age regression fics before in my life so this is not even in my trash turf. but idk, i feels thing and it's fluffy and nice. so i will be watching, plz don't judge me.

MU-TE-LUV โปรดใช้วิจารณญาณในการรักเธอ : uhhhhh i'll watch the kathoeys ep and that's it :P

เปย์รักด้วยแมวเลี้ยง (Cat for Cash) : i'm not a firstkhaotung boyie so idk seems like another basic one. another one to the maybe pile wooo!

Girl Rules ก��หลัก...ห้ามรักเธอ : Only Friends but for the girls, pass.

เปิดเทอมใหม่ หัวใจหัดรัก (Boys in love) : Basic highschool BL with PodPapang as a side in 4 couples show?!!? what sin did i commited huh!? gmmtv why are you doing me dirty like this. i will be watching it for the newbies and PodPapang but i will be holding a grudge the entire time.

ทำนายทายทัพ (My Magic Prophecy) : My babies are back!!! and Sea is swol, my, my. don't know what to think of it yet also wtf with all the tarot and fortune readings did someone at gmmtv is going through a divorce ??. anyway i'm a royal whore so i will be seated for this one.

หมาเห่าเครื่องบิน (A Dog and A Plane) : TAYNEW is back in a bl fucking finally!! this one seems promising with its plot and the comedy seems strong. poon also in this as a hussy and i can't be more stroke for my boy. i'm a bit worry about class disparity again cause the thai name of this show is "A dog barking at a plane" it's idiom that mean a lower class person pursuing someone out of their status. we got burned before with peaceful property so holding out hope that we'll not to going get burn again.

มีสติหน่อยคุณธีร์ (Me and Thee) : Phuwin doing comedy inner monologue?! You son of a bitch i'm in. although Fish upon the sky sucked ass in terms of plot imo it was one of the best BL comedy coming out of thailand in recent years and this show reminded me so much of that. at worst it going to be funny nonsense of a show, so what could possibly go wrong hehe (plz don't fuck this up gmmtv.)

WU : Oh hell no! this show is going to be a bromance i've learned my leason from PP and i will not going there again. its looks cool but i'm not doing it I CAN'T!

จาฤกรติชา (Memoir of Rati) : i'm not fan of period piece but this one seems angsty and queer. and maybe second time's the charm for greatinn. they also uses a cheap trick of Great's oilly naked body to lure us in like the siren song of abs and sadly that worked for me 😅

Ticket To Heaven เด็กชายไม่ไปสวรรค์ : G4 are not in a cutesy BL Wowoh! i really like the trailer for this one. the thai name for this show is "Boys/Boy don't goes to heaven" and it's make me get all the feels. i'm intrigued and excited for this one the most cause this one doesn't feels like a typical gmmtv show and against all odd i will hope they could deliver.

Welp let see, i'm excited for 5 out of what 20 shows?? oohh boy gmmtv really in the we throwing things untill something stick era ain't they. i think i'm in the more hopeful side of people whose has been burned by gmmtv. so i'm really hoping that the more unique shows that they got would actually turn out great cause despite what i've said lately about Thai BL, i'm very passionate about them and want to see them do well. i want to see Thai BL and Thai media in general to be someday be recognized on the global level, and gmmtv with all it woes is still the leading voice in this industry. i want them to learns and grow out of this idol manufacturer mindset, which maybe a wishful thinking but i'm still going to be holding up hope for a better days for Thai BL. any fucking way don't fuck Ticket To Heaven up gmmtv or i will be doing cursing ritual on you!

[chaoticgalaxycats]

Okay so like I have THOUGHTS on Jay Merrick as a character. Like none of them are bad (completely) but I just need to emphasize that these feelings I have about him are very strongly held opinion and have been formed over the last about 3 years. To be honest when I see something I disagree with I just calmly move on and don't engage. 

Okay so there are 4 posts that summarize my entire opinion on this man and I am going to link them and After I add the links I'm going to do what I do best and ramble. 

Now for the ramble:

Start off with the important one Jay is not this innocent cinnamon roll who has done nothing wrong ever in his life. He is not pure and passive guy that everyone tends to portray him as. 

Jay has done many questionable things throughout the entire series. He has broken into Alex's apartment, he lied to several people on several occasions, he stalked several people, he posted Tim's medical records online, he has trespassed on several properties, ect. He has committed crimes and done questionable things. 

Despite the questionable things he's done, I still think Jay is overall a decent person. A great person? No, not really. He's morally gray. Like some positive aspects about Jay he is a sympathetic person and avoidant of violence. Like dude literally tried talking down a guy who was holding him at gun point. When Tim punched him in the parking lot he just took it didn't fight back. When Tim opens up to him about his past he comforts him.

He's not conflict avoidant by any means but he's not violent either. He is not at all innocent but he is also not a terrible person is my point I guess because like everyone in this series has at least done something questionable I feel.

Jay has sass and I love that he bites back. I also feel portraying him as awkward is accurate though cuz he is I mean look at his conversations and interviews with Tim and Jessica. He is awkward and a terrible liar. Like the sass and the awkwardness don't really contradict. I would love to see a portrayal that strikes this balance because I know so many people who are extremely sassy but also can't hold a social interaction for the life of them.

Jay is also a dumbass but I don't think anyone is arguing for his smarts I just can't make a post about Jay withour bullying him because it's funny. 

Honestly people can portray a character however the fuck they want tbh I just wanted to rant about my views on the characters because character analysis is my bread and butter.

[philtstone]

Touch prompts: “feeling their pulse” for Shawn and Gus

so like .... i compromised my most staunchly held principle (there is objectively way too much of this kind of fic in the psych tag and i refuse to contribute MORE) to write this. alas; it would not let me go not sure how i feel about it as a standalone - i think it belongs in a larger fic, tbh, but im trying to be responsible and post these as prompts instead of spending weeks on a real story. i'll probably expand on it (and situate it in a generally more fun story) eventually. warnings for cursory description of blood, throw up and a broken arm & set during the events of 4x09, aka shawn takes a shot in the dark

In Gus’s memory, the Tuesday before Junior Prom is marked by the dead frogs in biology class and the most disgustingly broken bone the world ever had the displeasure of witnessing. 

“Mr. Spencer!” he had shrieked, operating on pure and unadulterated survival instinct.

They were fifteen and stupid – the way being angry at your parents makes you stupid, or being scared of how much you want to see Destiny B from first period art naked makes you stupid. When Gus yelled, feeling cold all over despite the hot after-school May sun, a weird hoarse twist he wasn’t used to tightened his throat. It overrode his gag reflex, thankfully, but unfortunately also made him sound like a panicking girl. Shawn didn’t say anything. They had a system. If Gus couldn’t look at Shawn’s broken ulna without throwing up, then he also couldn’t see the tears leaking out of Shawn’s eyes as he pressed his face against the scraggly front lawn and groaned in a horrible not-normal version of his recently-cracking teenaged boy voice. 

Plausible deniability for both of them.

“Fuck,” Shawn managed between sobs. Gus’s mom would have killed them both if she ever heard that word. “Gus, Gus it really hurts –”

“Don’t,” said Gus. He couldn’t look. This was so much worse than that time Shawn got a nosebleed in gym class it got all over his grinning teeth. He wasn’t grinning this time. He was shaking, like a leaf. Like one of those leaves from the plant unit in biology class, and oh, God – the frog. “Don’t, don’t, don’t.”

“Make it stop!”

Gus couldn’t. It was horrible. He’d told Destiny two weeks prior that he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up and he couldn’t even look at his best friend’s broken arm. He wasn’t panicking, not in the way Joy used to tease him for when they were kids (not grown-up fifteen year olds) and he’d get nervous around the water slides at Six Flags, but in this memory Gus felt scared in a new way that was somehow worse than water slides. “I told you that branch w-wouldn’t – I told you it wouldn’t hold, Shawn!” He shouldn’t have been yelling; it made him feel better anyway. “Why wouldn’t you just listen to me for once –”

The front door slammed open and shut and heavy footsteps rushed toward them. The broken arm probably hurt a lot, because Shawn wasn’t even mad at Gus for summoning his dad. Gus kept on shouting at his own shoes. To this day he has pretty much no idea what he was actually saying. The act of berating on its own was therapeutic.

Therapeutic had been one of the words he’d spelled right in the spelling bee.

“Shawn!” 

In the memory, Mr. Spencer’s voice invades their bubble like a popping bb gun and a big bucket of cool water in summertime all at once. The broken arm was not actually his fault, but Shawn had climbed the tree because he was fifteen and angry and Gus had hung back on the ground because he was fifteen and thinking about Destiny’s long swinging braids. Somehow both of these things connected back to the general presence of Henry, weeks away from divorce, hanging over their heads. He’d been the one who grounded Shawn two days prior for skipping second period for the millionth time, and Gus wasn’t sure he wanted to go to Junior Prom (where Destiny would be, slow dancing with Micheal H for sure) alone. 

“Shawn – ah, Jesus. Gus. Gus, come on, calm down, kid.” Two firm hands grabbed Gus by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet, and his tirade died in his throat. He was kind of shaking, too, but there was a sharp edge of fear to Henry’s voice that came out sounding almost angry and somehow made Gus feel better. “You’re okay, alright? You’re okay. He’s okay. This isn’t your fault. Go inside and get my car keys.”

Gus can’t really remember whether he made it to the bathroom before spilling his guts. He figures it’s kind of an immaterial detail, nineteen years later.

“Gus,” Shawn mumbles. “Gus, I got blood on you.” 

“Shut up, Shawn,” Gus says.

Shawn isn’t dead, which is pretty obvious to everyone now. Gus has been convinced of it for the last twenty-four hours. If Shawn was dead, Gus would’ve felt it. This is a conclusion he came to at around eleven a.m Pacific Standard Time, still in his pajamas and halfway through one of the gross protein bars Juliet keeps in her purse to keep his brain functioning on something one tier above pure fear. He used to wonder about it in college – whether Shawn was lying in a ditch somewhere without him. The idea would float through his head on random days when he was in crisis about stupid stuff like his upcoming Chem 102 final and prone to catastrophizing, and he’d think miserably that Shawn was probably on a sunny beach surrounded by beautiful women and Dolph Lundgren, momentarily freak because dude, what if he’s in Northern Guatemala and dead, and hasn’t even said anything? That would be just like Shawn, and then, finally, he’d eat a Kit-Kat and go for a walk around campus and finish his study notes and everything would be fine. A week later he’d get a postcard, like Shawn had somehow read his mind all the way from Bardstown, Kentucky, and pretend he didn’t miss his friend someplace deep in his ever-feeling stomach.

This morning he became convinced. He’d know. That has to be how it works. Nothing else makes sense, and Gus is a person who likes to believe in the reasonable and rational when he can.

Yeah, says Shawn’s regular, not-mumbly voice in his head. Like mummies and curses and ghosts. Absolutely the most sensible person I know, buddy, bar none. 

Shawn’s real voice is slurring something unintelligible and sounding a lot less coherent than he did fifteen minutes ago when jumped onto the hood of a moving vehicle. Like an action movie star. Gus can’t even bring himself to be pumped about how cool that was, theoretically, because –

“EMTs are on their way.”

“Well can’t they get here faster?”

“I’m not a goddamn teleportation service! Guster, get his head up –”

“His head is fine, will you just –”

“Stop jostling him!”

“He’s my son, Lassiter, don’t fucking tell me what to do – Shawn – Shawn –” 

After the adrenaline wore off and Shawn’s legs turned to jello, getting him to sit up against the car was kind of hard. He is, as a result, currently lying on the ground with his head in Gus’s lap, manfully, while they wait. Juliet took care of locking the bad guy in the other car and has sort of shut down, emotionally speaking – her sweet face is the color of chalk and her eyes are like saucers and she keeps answering her radio so fast her hands blur – and Lassiter’s trying (ungainingly, now that the shooting is over) to take charge to make himself feel better.

Henry’s the only one who seems capable of being practical. Gus knows this version of him well.  

“Gus … you hate blood. 'Cept when you're tellin' me to lick it.”

Shawn again, being unhelpful. As always. Gus is too relieved to gag. Maybe later. 

“At this juncture I am neutral about blood,” Gus tells him, in his best Professional Pharmaceutical Salesman Voice. Shawn grins crookedly up at him. He’s like, half passed out already, and the only thing keeping Gus sane is the steady beat of his pulse in his neck, where it presses hot and sweaty against Gus’s hand. Hot and sweaty makes him think of their junior prom. That was gross, though Gus supposes he didn’t mind at the time. They barely made it to the thing anyway. Shawn milked his stupid cast like his life depended on it and Destiny, who was big into art, sat at their table instead of dancing with Michael H so she could doodle on it with the Sharpies she carried in her frilly clutch. She and Gus spent almost the whole night talking. She was like, his second ever kiss.

Back to the present. Through the power of Henry Spencer’s eyebrows Lassie’s been successfully banished – warded off, whatever – and Gus briefly wonders if he should be a bad friend (to Juliet) and ask that she come over and hold Shawn’s hand or something. Then Henry locks eyes with him and he realizes suddenly and inescapably that no, actually, Shawn will not want her to be here for this.

“Shawn,” Henry says.

“Hi, Dad,” Shawn manages. He’s still grinning, but his face is pale. Pasty. Shawn’s kind of tan as far as white guys go (Gus remembers Joy declaring this once, the way she always liked to declare things, when they were eight and she was twelve) so the gray tinge to his cheeks doesn’t become him. "Unhg… this’sucks. Kinda … numb tho’. I think ‘s getting better.” 

It’s not really getting better. Gus looks at the dirty, slick duct tape matted into Shawn’s tattered shirt and feels his ears ringing. This is one of top ten most unforgivable pranks Shawn has pulled on him in their lifetime, without a doubt.

“Kid, I’m so sorry. I have to stop the bleeding.”

“S’still bleedin’?”

It is. Gus’s leg is damp. Probably sticky. Every molecule in his body is trying not to think about it. 

“Gus, brace his shoulder.”

“Yes sir.”

Shawn’s mind registers what’s about to happen a second before Henry presses down; Gus can see it all click in his drooping eyes, which widen. The noise that comes out of his mouth is sudden and horrible. Worse than God’s most disgusting broken bone. Gus doesn’t move, but his stomach lurches, and his head spins. Henry’s pressure is firm and professional and unyielding and he can see the old brown jacket the older man stripped off his own shoulders start to stain where it rests against Shawn, who seems to be remembering that he got shot with a real live bullet for the first time since they found him. 

“Dad – Dad, stop, stop, fuck! Why’d you – doesn’ haft’ – jus -”

Plausible deniability, Gus thinks while Shawn complains. It would be normal except Henry's actually apologizing. He stares at the ugliest sepia-patterned fruit on his best friend's dad's shirt and counts to ten, then twelve, then thirteen. He wonders what Destiny's up to these days. He doesn't look and pretends not to hear, either.

“Gus,” Henry says after another minute, and Gus looks up. With a jolt, he realizes that he’s watching Henry Spencer cry. Nothing about his voice has changed; nothing about his posture has changed. The faint sound of an ambulance invades their consciousness while mundane, dull tears shine in the pale afternoon sun as they leak out of the older man's eyes and down his grizzled exhausted face. “You need to throw up?”

He does, kind of. Shawn’s spare hand has grabbed the dirty fabric of Gus’s jeans in one fist. He isn’t yelling anymore and from over Henry’s shoulder Gus can see Juliet, across the road, looking over at them desperately. She probably can't see the details, but there's no way she hasn't heard. Shawn gasps a shaky breath and squeezes his eyes shut and bites down into his own shirtsleeve to muffle himself. Gus and the car are blocking the worst of it from everyone else. The sirens are properly loud now. 

“He’s gonna be okay,” Henry says. “You know? It just looks like hell.”

Like he’s fifteen again, and being ordered to go get the keys. Gus shakes his head anyway, and Henry doesn’t ask again. 

[imagination-overreaction]

More tf2 ships lets go

Soldier x Demoman / Boots n Bombs

Starting off with a Demoman ship cause this man does not get enough love I think. These two enable each other's stupidity to an incredible degree. They're both geniuses in the art of reckless stupidity, and with their brains and hearts combined they could be making new inventions like "ultra turbo sticky-nade launcherator" and it flings them 8 miles in the air and they die instantly (but they both cheer and think it's awesome once they're revived and they do it again. Medic doesn't care, but he's getting a bit bored of piecing together the same two bodies over and over again). These two would become masters of destruction. I also can imagine them passed out on the couch on top of each other, or Soldier waking up to do drills at 4 am and Demo telling him to fuck off (Soldier can't help it, his love language is explosives and boot camp </3). I like them a lot.

Scout x Sniper / Speeding Bullet

I will admit, I am a bit of a Scout hater when it comes to ships... Actually I'm just a Scout hater in general. However, I do think the dynamic of "annoying little shit" plus "gruff weird guy" works. Scout is the type to press his partner's buttons for the funnies (although he does this with his friends as well) but given how he was in Expiration Date as well as the Cold Day In Hell comic (if I remember right), then he would be genuinely caring and considerate toward his partner's feelings. Scout would push his buttons, but an hour later he'd be splayed out on top of Sniper and rambling about his day. Sniper is more blunt and to-the-point with affection, I think. He'd bother Scout right back, of course, and he'd just as happily sit there and nod along to whatever the hell Scout is talking about. These two would stay up until 5 am together several nights in a row.

Heavy x Pyro / Bear Grill

Since it's such a rare pair, there's some debate on what the ship name actually is. "Russian Wildfire," and "Heavy Fire" are the alternatives I've seen after scouring the tags. I'd like to toss my own suggestion in with "Firing Squad," although that could probably work for other ships too. I personally really like the hc that Pyro is (maybe aro?)ace, and I think that works well with Heavy (I also hc it/they Pyro but any pronouns work for this lil guy tbh). Heavy would support his little maniac's vested interest in fiery homicide just ignore the fact that he says he's scared of them in Meet The Pyro that's not important right now, and I think Pyro would really like watching Heavy use Sasha (the muzzle flash would be really neat in Pyro Vision). Outside of battle, I can imagine Heavy taking care of his guns while Pyro talks to him and tells a (very muffled) story. Heavy would listen to it when it talks about all the wonderful things it sees during their battles, and Heavy would maybe defend it when the other mercs start talking about how terrifying it is... Maybe. They're still very concerning.

Engineer x Heavy

There is no damn posts about this. "Heavy Metal" is a slightly popular one but "More Gun" has been suggested a lot, as well as "Mechanical Literature." I personally like More Gun(s), and I honestly really like this ship, and I feel like it works really well for the same reason that they both work well with Medic--they're both relatively calm and amicable compared to the rest of the team. I feel like Engie and Heavy would be the parents of the team, telling people to go to bed before 3 am and not to explode things in the house (it doesn't work but they can try) (and Engie probably has been the source of one or two fires but not necessarily on purpose). These two would be sickly together. Engie'd be going "good morning Misha 🥰✨" and tap Heavy's shoulder until he leans down far enough to let Engie kiss him on the cheek, and Heavy would give a quiet happy hum as Engie whistles away and they make me sick. I love them so much.

I also think that Engineer would give Heavy some absolutely monstrous artillery as a gift. They absolutely enable each other's horrific acts of bloodshed. More Gun <3

Part 1 - - Part 3

[constantlybrainrotting]

Arcane Competitive Dance AU

i dont think you realize that i CRAVE comp. dance au's down to the bone as a former comp. dancer so HERE IS MY BRAIN CHILD!!!

we start off pretty basic, with the City of Greater Piltover essentially split into two main area, New Piltover and Zaun. within the two main areas lies two dance studios, both well known and well loved in their respective communities. for the amount of time the studios have been open, the have had a sort of "rivalry" within it's leaders (dw the kids are mostly chill with eachother). this brings us to the main bones of the au!!

Zaun Dance Movement (ZDC)

run by co-owners and partners Vander and Silco Lane-Shimmerson

they do a lot of community work within Zaun since it's mostly lower class

they are known for their insane Hip Hop routines that are highly inspired by Zaunite break-dancing as well as their acro routines

they offer an affordability fund program for people who are interested in dance but the cost can be too high for the household

for the recreational program they offer the general classes such as ballet, jazz, tap, hip hop, acro, musical theatre and open, as well as holding classes for adults, low-impact for the elderly, and adaptive movement for anyone with a mental or physical ability

they are known for being a family friendly and community based studio

has a KILLER fundraising team omg like genuinely so good they raise so much for comp season

Piltover Dance Corps (PDC)

founded by Cecil Himerdinger (trust me on this guys-)

owned currently by Cassandra Kiramman

they take a more intense look at dance, while still being family forward

"rich kid" studio

they put on a showing of the nutcracker every holiday season to raise funds for comp season

also has an affordability fund that's pretty good tbh

it definitely helps that Cass Kiramman is RICH so she puts a good amount of funds into it herself

they have a pianist come in for their ballet/pointe classes (just a fun fact tbh)

a good amount of their students go on to go professional later in life

known for their downright gorgeous ballet and tap programs

Overall facts I've put together!

contemp is NOT the shit you see on tv, it's what it originally was, the successor to the modern style idc what anyone says (please get rid of tv contemp y'all its legit lyrical you are doing lyrical-)

most if not all the main characters are in fact children/teens in this AU to have it make more sense just generally

vi is a hip hop/contemp girly ok

jinx is powders nickname/stage name and she is 100% a acro/musical theatre kid and you can pry that from my cold dead hands

ekko is a hip hop kid (as if you couldn't already see that coming lmao)

caitlyn is a lyrical/pointe girly bc you can't convince me she wouldn't LOVE the insane precision it takes seeing as she fucks with guns

jayce is a tap/hip hop boy bc i think he would adore the click clacks of tap shoes

mel is a lyrical/contemp to no ones suprise

dw guys viktor is in fact here hes just nerding out in the corner

he was dragged into the lane-shimmerson family ok

he's vi, claggor, milo and jinx's very supportive older brother who attends the adaptive movement class so he can give his siblings shit on their choreo

he is also the loudest mf in the audience (speaking from experience here 😅

sevika was also kicking and screaming and attempted to crawl her ass out of the fam dynamic and did NOT survive

love me some begrudging auntie sevika lmaooo

smeech is ZDM's tap teacher and him and jinx have BEEF

they are duking it out weekly frfr

vander and cassandra are chill owner to owner but cass and silco? they are each others biggest opp honestly

secret dating caitvi but they are only hiding it from silco and cassandra

jinx takes on isha as her adopted mini and its so cute

vi and deckard is a one sided rivalry with deckard thinking of vi as his rival and vi dgaf about this guy

we also get some good ole jaymelvik dating and timebomb crushing

please let me know if anyone wants more but this is like the bare bones of it lmaoooo

[siren-serenity]

im okay with dom reader x sub gun too!! in fact, i love it even more tbh 🤭 can't wait to read a ff about that if you eve write it, love ya stay safe

SUB! GUN PARK

"What are you going to do about it?" Gun didn't notice it until it was too late. Suddenly, his back arched upwards, mouth open in between a breathless gasp and a loud moan, as your two lube-lathered fingers entered his entrance. He feels everything - from your teasing and prodding at his walls to the scissoring motion stretching him out from the insides. "Mmph! M-More!" "Greedy," You spit out with a glint in your eyes, yet you comply. Two fingers become three and his tight, snug little hole clenches around your digits with a familiar warmth. His eyes roll back to reveal pure black voids and his fist clenches around the couch's material. "F-Fuck!"

characters: gun park (mentioned to have a pussy), gn!reader (mentions having a cock but can be intrepreted/seen as a strap on) warnings: nsfw, dom/sub relationships, degradation a/n: - a sub!gun just makes me drool... - feedback is appreciated!

Before Gun Park could even say anything, you're already halfway done with the buttons on his shirt, lips crashing and molding against his like a tidal wave, unable to fight back, and tongue swirling and capturing his in a dominant dance. The doorway hangs half-open and lewd noises and loud pants echo in the hallways of Gun's expensive residence.

"What," You growl out in the middle of a kiss. Gun's sharp nails claw onto your back and bleary eyes blink back at you, clouded over in a haze of lust. "the fuck was that all about?"

A smirk curls onto those lips of his; pink, plump, kissable lips that you would want to nip and suck at all night long. "Oh, you mean the woman?"

"Don't play with me," You lift his legs up and slam his back against the wall. Your hands squeeze around his inner thighs as you tilt your head to capture him in another kiss. You felt the back of his ankles digging into your back as he tugs you closer, unbuttoning your shirt and letting it fall to the floor before running his hands all over your chest. A blaze of lust follows his hands and you nip at his lips. "You want to be fucked so badly?"

Gun lets out a low, guttural groan, igniting something in your soul and answering your question. A blazing fire, flames ignited by pure lust, flare up, and you whirl away from the walls to throw him onto the couch. He crawls back until his back bumps into the arm of the couch and you cage him in your arms.

"You flirted with someone else, daring to squeeze her ass and tits to get my attention?" You tug his hair, tilting his face to meet yours. Another hand sneaks down to grab the box underneath the couch and you thump it on the table. "You also dared to fucking wink at me?"

"What are you going to do about it?" Gun rasps out, his obsidian eyes locking yours in a deathly stare-match. His lips curve into a confident smirk. He didn't notice it until it was too late. Suddenly, his back arched upwards, mouth open in between a breathless gasp and a loud moan, as your two lube-lathered fingers entered his entrance. He feels everything - from your teasing and prodding at his walls to the scissoring motion stretching him out from the insides. "Mmph! M-More!"

"Greedy," You spit out with a glint in your eyes, yet you comply. Two fingers become three and his tight, snug little hole clenches around your digits with a familiar warmth. His eyes roll back to reveal pure black voids and his fist clenches around the couch's material.

"F-Fuck!"

You pull out, leaving Gun aching for more. You twist your lips into a confident smirk, showing him the large vibrating dildo you prepared, and without further pause, you slide it past Gun's entrance and it brushed against his prostate. You fiddle with the controller before setting it at the maximum speed.

"H-Holy shit-"

Vibrating noises echo in the living room and Gun's fist spring out to clench around the hairs on the base of your neck, tugging hard.

"I want your c-cock," Gun growls out despite the vibrating noises coming from his pussy. His voice trembled slightly. "Not this p-pathetic excuse of one."

You only sneer before getting up to walk away.

"What the fuck- G-Get back here, Y/N!"

You turn around to give him a mocking wave. Honestly, you should have done this more often; the satisfaction blossoming in you seeing the Gun Park undone by your mere fingers and a vibrating dildo between his legs couldn't compare to any other feeling. His black eyes glare at you as he attempts to stand up, keyword: attempt, before falling back onto the couch as the vibrating dildo pushes against his prostrate again.

"Mmph- F-Fuck! I-I'll just take this s-shit out and go fuck a-another person," He threatens. You just laugh darkly under your breath, giving him low-lidded eyes.

"As if," You prowl forward before caging him in between your arms, towering over his seated form. You look down, leaning in and letting your words flow between the space between you two. "You know the only person that can get you to cum is me, Gun. Don't forget it."

He grumbles before tugging your shoulders forward and kissing you hard and rough. Teeth collide in a painful crash and Gun only leans back onto the couch to get you on top of him, half-hard erections brushing against each other and he moans.

"Fuck me properly, Y/N," He grunts, thrusting his hips up to get more friction. His mouth hangs open as he pants. "You want this too."

You only pull away to give him an incredulous look. "Please- I could just jerk off myself. But you..."

Trailing a finger along his prominent V-lines made from continuous hours of hard work, you continue. "You can't even orgasm without me. You're nothing without my help."

It seems as if your words broke him as Gun lets out a tiny whimper.

"Fine...fuck me, please?"

You jerk his chin upwards so his black eyes lock onto your own. One word and you would do anything. Because you know that he had to give up and shed all traces of his pride to even whisper it, let alone say it. He was vulnerable and you felt pride knowing that only you could see this particular side of him.

"Good boy."

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

during - part seven

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

tommy takes care of joel as best he can, and you try and make a break for it.

a/n: y’all I am having way too much fun writing this story. part 7 earlier than planned, and tbh I’ll probably post part 8 tomorrow if I can. the inspo is REAL and thank you all for the comments and reblogs and messages and general love and support - you have no idea how happy it makes me!! 🤍

word count: 4.6k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, canon-typical violence and injuries, death, blood, near-death experiences, questionable decisions on the military’s part

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new works/chapters!✨

Tommy watches his brother fall apart.

It’s one thing after another, and he can’t blame Joel. The world’s ending; everything else is falling apart, it only makes sense that he would too. But still, it hurts. Watching his big brother — the only constant in his life for as long as he can remember — break down, it makes Tommy hurt in a way he can’t fully comprehend. It’s not fair.

He thinks about the soldier, in the days that follow. He’d come up the ridge just as the gunfire sounded, already looking for his brother and niece, never expecting to find them the way that he did. Joel was pleading, already hurt, his hands in the air, as good a white flag as any, and the soldier just didn’t care. It went against everything in Tommy, but when the soldier lifted the gun again, Tommy fired first.

But then…Sarah.

There was so much blood. He should be used to it, being who he is, seeing what he’s seen. But it’s different, it feels different, it sits in the back of his mind and haunts his every step. She was so young. So bright, so good. And then just, gone.

“Tommy, help me!”

He’d never heard Joel like that, so desperate, so lost. The only moment that rivalled it was when they’d been in the truck, Tommy driving, Joel with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Talking to you, asking where you were, if you were safe.

“It’s everywhere,” Joel had said, and Tommy had felt a distinct feeling of helplessness wash through him. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t just in Austin. He focused on the road, tried not to look too closely at the chaos in the distance. Shit was hitting the fan, in every sense.

He tightened his grip on the wheel as Joel continued talking to you. You were hurt, Joel telling you to patch yourself up. “I’m not hanging up until you do.”

Tommy could hear the ache in his brother’s voice. Joel had never let you go, not completely, and Tommy knew it. He didn’t blame Joel for it; having you around was the happiest he’d seen his brother in a long time. He liked you, too, liked your laugh and your sense of humour, the way you looked at Joel like you were seeing him for the first time, every time.

He had to swerve the truck as another car barrelled down the road in the opposite direction. Joel grabbed for the dashboard, phone still glued to his ear. “I’m gonna find you, you hear me? Just get out of Boston and I swear to you, I’m gonna find you!” A pause, and Joel stared at the phone. Tommy could see his brother’s hands shaking. “It’s dead.”

A moment later, the radio — which had been spewing news reports since Joel had picked Tommy up — went silent. Joel tossed his phone onto the truck floor, slammed his fist into the dash a moment later.

“Fuck!”

“She okay?” Tommy asked, and Joel scrubbed a hand over his face. “Joel?”

“Boyfriend attacked her,” Joel grumbled, rubbing his forehead again. “Tried to fuckin’ bite her. She said he’s dead.”

Tommy had balked. “She did that?”

“Dunno,” Joel had replied, and huffed a humourless laugh, the noise almost flat. “Is it fucked up if I say I hope she did?”

Tommy had pressed the gas a little harder, the truck speeding down the road. “Everything’s fucked up, seems like.” Silence hung over them only for a moment, punctuated a moment later by the loud whoosh of flames as a car down the road collided with a telephone pole. Joel cursed under his breath, Tommy kept on driving. “What are we gonna do, Joel?”

“We get Sarah, and we go,” his brother replied, and despite the waver in his voice, he sounded sure. Surer than Tommy felt. “East.”

East, Tommy thought. Boston. You. Like he’d expected anything different. “You really think you can find her?”

“I can sure as hell try.”

The conversation feels like a year ago, instead of the handful of days it has been. Maybe a week; he’s starting to lose track, already. They’ve been holed up for a few hours now, tucked in the garage of an abandoned house. They crossed the state line a few hours back, and so far, Arkansas looks the same as Texas: fucking ravaged. Joel sits on the floor, knees up to his chest, face buried in his arms. Tommy feels antsy.

“I’m gonna go look inside, see if there’s anything worth taking. You good?”

“Yeah.”

Seems like every neighbourhood they come across has been evacuated, the houses all empty. They have guns; he already had his own, and he’d swiped the rifle from the soldier that had attacked Joel and Sarah. Though he was quick to give Joel his, take the soldier’s for himself. Something about Joel touching the weapon that had killed Sarah made Tommy’s gut twist. He didn’t like it either, but it was out of necessity.

The house has obviously been picked through, toppled furniture and broken glass as far as he can tell, but they get lucky: a first aid kit, a mostly full bottle of whiskey, and some cans of beans. Tommy grabs it all, heads up the stairs. Clearly an older couple, but there’s a few men’s jackets in one of the closets, a pair of work boots, plain t-shirts. He takes the lot, offering the boots to Joel when he gets back to the garage. “These your size?”

His brother takes the boots with a flat expression, pulling the laces to peer at the sole. “About there, yeah. Don’t need ‘em though.”

“Take ‘em with us, for when you do,” Tommy counters, offering Joel one of the t-shirts next. “You should change.”

“M’fine.”

Tommy hooks the gun over his head, setting it on the ground beside him as he crouches in front of Joel. “You’re covered in blood,” he says, and his brother snatches the t-shirt. “Need to change your bandage, too.”

“And what exactly do you want me to—” Joel starts, but shuts up when Tommy tosses the first aid kit to him.

“Need help?” he asks as Joel gets to his feet, pulls his stained t-shirt off, tosses it aside. They’d found a half empty kit in a cafe back in Austin, dressed Joel’s wound before they took off completely. Joel was lucky, just a graze, but Tommy knows it must hurt like hell, and it’ll leave a scar, a reminder of that night, of what was lost.

Joel winces as he pulls of the old bandage, tossing it in the same direction as the t-shirt. “Don’t suppose you found any water in there?” He digs through the first aid kit. “No antiseptic.”

“No water,” Tommy confirms, but holds up the bottle of whiskey. “Just this.”

It’s not ideal, using the alcohol to clean the graze — and Joel nearly puts his fist through the wall despite the healthy sip he takes before Tommy wipes a piece of gauze damp with the whiskey over the wound — but it’ll work. They have to make do.

Joel sinks back onto the concrete floor once the wound is redressed, the new t-shirt pulled over his head. He takes the whiskey with him, and Tommy sits beside his brother, both of them with rifles in their laps. They sip the bottle in turn, and Tommy savours the burn as it slides down his throat, warmth spreading through his chest. It loosens his tongue, makes him regret the question the second it’s out of his mouth.

“You think she made it?” He knows he doesn’t have to call you by name. Not now.

“I have to,” is his brother’s only response.

+

They stop you at the gate.

You don’t know what you’re thinking, but after staking out the giant metal fence for a few hours, you at least know that trying to sneak over is only going to result in a bullet finding a home somewhere it shouldn’t. The soldiers were firing at anything that made a break for the gate, and running full-force didn’t make you brave, it made you stupid. It made you look like one of them. Infected. Mindless. Blood-thirsty. A few have come sprinting up to the post you’ve been watching, and the soldiers have put them down without batting an eye.

As you’ve watched, a few groups of people have approached the post. All the same, their hands in the air, desperation in their voices, carried to you on the smoke-tinged breeze. Please help us. You’ve watched them get directed away from the post, towards a still-standing building a few yards from the gate, where a military-issue tent is set up. Some of them walk back out, are directed towards an armoured truck parked along the gate, and then the truck disappears, only for a new one to reappear in its stead a few minutes later. It’s like clockwork, but only some end up in the trucks.

Others are carried out the back of the tent, bodies dumped into one of the pits left by the bombing. It makes your skin crawl.

It takes a while, lacking the confidence to put yourself in the line of fire when you could just keep hiding in the city. The soldiers might find you eventually — if the Infected didn’t find you first — but if you could just keep going, maybe there was a break in the fence somewhere, a way out besides what lies ahead of you. But finally, after a few hours of squatting in the rubble, your limbs aching from staying pressed against brick, you step out of the alley, and put your hands in the air. You’ve pulled down the sleeves of the hoodie you’re wearing, letting it cover the bandage around your arm, and you grip the cuffs with your fingers as you raise your arms.

“I’m not infected!”

A flash of movement, and the barrels of at least ten rifles are pointed directly at you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, bile rising in the back of your throat. A suitable reaction, you think, and you swallow back the fear that makes you want to run. It’ll only get you killed that much faster.

“Name!” one of the soldier’s shouts. You can’t tell who; they’re all wearing helmets, visors covering their faces, turning it into a sea of darkness staring back at you. Your fingers flex, and you call you name back.

“I need to leave.”

One of them starts laughing. Another two look at each other, sharing a look you can’t suss out. A few lower their guns, and the prickle along your spine fizzles slightly. A visor lifts, revealing a soot-streaked face, a grim expression. “Why on earth would you wanna do that?”

“My family is in Texas,” you say, your voice surprisingly strong, if not a little thready from the smoke. “I have to go find them.”

“You’re gonna walk halfway across the country,” a faceless voice asks, “with a baseball bat? Girl, you don’t have a hope in hell.”

“Beats sitting around here, waiting to die,” you throw back, and the soldier that had lifted his visor lifts his brow. “Let me pass.”

“Can’t do that,” he replies, and steps up in front of you. He’s got a strange face, eyes a little too dark, hair hidden by the helmet, a scar on his mouth. Something about him reminds you of Dean, but a much harder version, his face more angular, the voice slightly deeper. “No one gets out of the city, we have orders.”

“You can’t hold me hostage here,” you start, stepping towards him. Your hands are still in the air. “My family is out there, I need to—”

“No one gets out,” another soldier interrupts. “FEDRA’s orders.”

Your brow creases. “FEDRA?”

“Federal Disaster Response Agency,” the strange-faced soldier answers.

“So the military is taking over?”

“I never said that.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Just let me go, please? I can’t stay here, my family—”

“Is in Texas,” the soldier replies, nodding along. He hefts his gun slightly, adjusting his grip, and you don’t miss the meaning, the silent threat behind it. “And you’re here, in Boston. Now you don’t have a car, or any real weapons, and we have orders. You’re not going anywhere.”

You bite back the protest that crawls up your throat. If you’re getting out, it’s not through here. “Then where am I supposed to go?”

“There’s a shelter,” he tells you, “in the mall. There’s food, water, beds. It’s temporary, but it’s safe.”

“Temporary, like the gate?”

He gives you a long look, then gestures towards the tent you’ve been watching them shuffle people through. “Let’s get you checked out, and then we’ll get you there.”

You match his stare, setting your jaw, digging your heels in slightly. The muzzle of his rifle dips just slightly, and his eyes pinch, narrowing at you.

“I’ll only ask nicely once.”

Heart in your throat, you drop your hands, and when he gestures towards the tent again, you go. Every single part of you is shaking as you head for the canvas structure, and once you’re inside, it’s no different. It’s shockingly clean, a metal table in the middle, a smaller one to the side. “Put your bag there,” the soldier orders, that familiar stern military tone, pointing to the bigger table. “The bat, too.”

You do as you’re told, seeing from the corner of your eye that he’s still got both hands on his gun. “I’m keeping the bat,” you say over your shoulder, pulling it out from where you’d slid it between the straps of the bag, resting against your lower back. The metal rings when you set it on the table. “For the record.”

“Never said you couldn’t keep it, did I?”

“You want me to go to that shelter in the mall,” you say, sliding the bag off your shoulders, placing it next to the bat, and then turning back to the soldier, “with every other terrified person in this city, and you expect me to believe you’re gonna let me walk in with a weapon?”

The soldier’s jaw goes tight, eyes even tighter. “Strip.”

“Excuse me?”

“Take your clothes off,” he says, clearly getting exasperated. “I might let you keep the bat, but there’s no way I’m letting you into the mall shelter knowing you’ve been bitten. Strip.”

“Bitten?” you repeat, your mind sparking at the new information. “Is that how this is spreading?” To appease him, hoping he’ll give you a bit more information, you pull the hoodie off, disentangling your arms slowly. “That’s what’s turning people into those—”

The hoodie comes off, revealing your bandaged shoulder and forearm, and the gun is pointed back in your face again, a soft click reaching your ears. “You’re injured.”

“Y’know, I usually like to at least know a guy’s name before he sees me half-naked.”

He ignores you. “You’re injured.”

You heave a breath, tucking the edge of the gauze around your arm back into place. “You dropped bombs on this city. I dare you to find someone out there who isn’t injured.”

The soldier just stares at you. You just stare back.

“Take the bandages off,” he orders, and your hands curl into fists. “I need to see.”

“Tell me your name first,” you counter, still holding his gaze.

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

“I’m aware; you’re the one holding the gun. But I also know you’ve been taking bodies out of this tent more than you’ve been sending people to the shelter. So, again, tell me your name.”

He leans back slightly, takes a deep breath, eyes darting to the side before meeting yours again. “Corporal Nicholas Cowan, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” you repeat, almost laughing. “That’s a bit much, but—”

“The bandages.”

“Okay, okay.”

Carefully, you peel back the gauze on your shoulder. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches or anything, and you’d slathered it with some kind of ointment in the first aid kit. It still looks pretty awful, and the tape along the edge of the bandage has left little indents in your skin, but it’s definitely healing. Your arm is next, that wound fresher, and it starts to bleed as soon as you pull the gauze away. Cowan gives you a new piece of gauze a moment later, tossing it onto the table between you rather than handing it right to you. “What happened?”

“I was in the bookstore, down on South Street, when you all decided to start dropping bombs. Fucking lucky a bookshelf didn’t fall on my head.”

He still has the gun pointed at you, though the grip is slightly more relaxed, and he circles you slowly, eyes glued to your shoulder. “Those look like claw marks.”

“That’s because they are.”

“So that happened before the bombs.”

“It did.”

“I’m supposed to shoot, the moment I see anything like that. I have orders.”

“It’s not a bite.”

“I know that.” He swallows so hard you can see his throat bob. “They haven’t figured it all out. The bite seems to make it happen faster, but I don’t know if—”

“I’ll tell you what, Corporal,” you interrupt, reaching for your bag, pulling the first aid kit out and fishing out new bandages, “I start to turn into one of those things, and I give you my full permission to blow my fucking brains out.” Cowan balks, his eyes widening for a moment as he stares back at you. “But for the record, it’s been seven days, and I’m still here, faculties intact. So, politely, go fuck yourself, and just let me through the gate.”

+

He doesn’t.

Cowan lets you redress, once your bandages have been hastily rewrapped; you’d protested and he told you they’d give you proper treatment at the shelter. Once that was done, you grabbed your pack — and the bat, which Cowan barely seemed to notice — and he grabbed you roughly by the arm, dragging you out of the tent and steering you towards one of the armoured trucks parked at the fence.

You’re all but stuffed inside, and Cowan gets into the passenger’s seat, a masked soldier behind the wheel. “The mall,” he says simply, and the soldier just nods, and the engine rumbles to life, pulling away from the chain link and heading back into the city.

You keep the bat in your lap as they drive, your eyes glued to the window, to the mess that now only partially resembles Boston. You’d seen enough of the destruction running through the streets, but the truck takes a few pathways you hadn’t. Some roads aren’t as destroyed, obviously not targeted by the bombs, and the asphalt is even, still intact. There’s no getting past the bodies, however, and that pulls your eyes away, staring down at your bruised and dirty hands, wrapped around the bat.

When the truck stops outside the mall, the driver doesn’t get out. You lift your head then, taking in the space around you. It’s more of the same, but the mall looks mostly undisturbed, except for the broken windows, the burned displays. Cowan slides out of the passenger’s side, pulls open your door a moment later. “Let’s go.”

There are three more soldiers standing at the entrance, and as Cowan starts to lead you through, one of them stops you, lifting a hand. “You can’t take that in there,” the soldier says, pointing to the bat. “Give it here.”

“No.”

Cowan sighs, turning back to you, waving off the soldier. “C’mon, just—”

“No,” you say again, your voice harder. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m walking around this city without it.”

“You’re safe in the mall,” Cowan says, nearly rolling his eyes at you, but you just lift a brow. “It’s a shelter, and we’re patrolling from the outside.” He points over his shoulder, and sure enough, you see a few more armoured trucks rolling across the street, armed soldiers trailing behind it. Like it makes a difference.

You almost laugh. “Nowhere is safe anymore.” You tighten your grip on the bat. “You really think your chain link fence is gonna save us from those things?”

He gives you another one of those hard stares, but relents, waving off the other soldiers and grabbing the handle on your bag, all but dragging you through the entrance. “If she attacks someone, it’s on you, Cowan!” one of the soldier’s shouts, and he just grumbles under his breath.

“Do me a favour,” he says to you as he releases you, making you stumble a step before he falls into step beside you, “don’t be more trouble than you’re worth.”

“And what am I worth, Corporal?”

“You’re alive, and you’re not one of them,” he says, and you don’t miss the thread of…is that hope, in his voice? “So that makes you worth something.”

He’s quiet, the rest of the way. There’s no electricity, the overhead fluorescents dark, and Cowan clicks on a flashlight, lighting your path deeper into the mall. There’s the whir of generators, as you get closer, big lights that looks like they were taken from construction sites. You see the food court has been turned into a makeshift hospital, and Cowan tells you the big department store on the main level is where you’ll sleep, for the time being.

There aren’t that many people, which makes your throat go a little thick. How many people have died, how many have turned, how many made it out of Boston before they put up the fence?

Cowan takes your arm again as you walk towards the food court, calling for someone as you get closer. “Deanna! I got one for you.”

An older lady, maybe late fifties, pokes her head out from behind one of the triage curtains. Her face is both kind and harsh at the same time, bright green eyes, grey-streaked hair pulled into a long ponytail, blood-stained scrubs and a tool belt around her waist that’s filled with medical instruments instead of actual tools. It almost makes you laugh.

“Must be special,” she says, her voice a little gravelly as she approaches you, wiping her hands on her pants. “You don’t usually escort them all the way down here, Nicky.” Her eyes drop to the bat in your hands and her brows raise. “Or let them come in armed.”

Once she’s close enough, Cowan releases you and takes Deanna by the arm, steering her off to the side. You stand there awkwardly, the bat banging against your leg. Your forearm is a little sore, and you’re half-sure it’s soaked through the bandages you’d haphazardly retied after Cowan’s inspection. You glance over at the pair a few times, seeing them both shooting you looks before turning back to each other. Deanna looks confused, then upset, then almost forgiving. You can’t quite figure out Cowan’s expression.

After a few minutes, she just nods, and Cowan turns on his heel, heading back in the direction you came, leaving you alone. Deanna gives you a once-over as she walks towards you again, putting a warm hand on your back and starting to steer you towards one of the curtains. “Let’s get you cleaned up, honey.”

She leads you behind one of the curtains, then another, and once you’re in the little makeshift room, she pulls another curtain into place. “Nicky said we need to be quick about this,” she says, leaning up on her toes to peer over the curtains, assumedly to see if anyone is coming. “And quiet.”

“Okay.”

You let her take your bag, set it on the chair that’s set to the side. You’re reluctant to let go of the bat, but when you finally let her take it, she puts it beside you on the cot. “You’ve been out there this whole time?” she asks, her voice just above a whisper. You nod. “Even the bombs?” Another nod. “Show me where you’re hurt.”

You hold your breath as you peel off the hoodie. You were right, your arm has bled through the bandage, and your shoulder aches with the movement. Deanna doesn’t say a word at first, her brow furrowed as she looks you over.

She tends to your arm first, wiping the blood from your skin, using some sort of glue to close the wound before she wraps it in fresh gauze. She circles you slowly, just like Cowan had, and you hear her sharp inhale when she sees your shoulder. “What have we here?” She wipes at more of the blood, and the sting makes you tense, your hand twitching towards the bat at your side. “What did that?”

“…boyfriend.”

You look over your shoulder to see her staring at you, a look that toes the line between sympathy and fear on her face. “Was he…”

You give a slight nod. “He was.”

“And is he…?”

“Not anymore.”

Her brows raise. “You did that?”

Another nod. “I did that.”

She blows out a breath, shaking her head side to side. “Damn, girl. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

It’s the first time you’ve actually laughed since your birthday.

They give you some clothes, stuff that actually fits, pilfered from one of the stores. Toiletries even, and you spend far too much time brushing your teeth. No showers, unfortunately, but the pack of baby wipes you’re offered instead makes up for it. It nearly makes you cry to see your skin clean of the dust and ash and blood.

They give you food, too. A grocery bag filled with non-perishables, more granola bars and cans of soup and whatnot. You try not to chug an entire bottle of water when they give you a second bag filled with drinks; not just water, but sports drinks, random cans of pop, clearly raided from the mall vending machines. And a hot meal, courtesy of one of the food court hot plates. It’s some kind of stew, noodles and meat and veggies, and for a moment, all you can think about is the Thai food that was waiting on your kitchen counter.

Feels like a lifetime ago.

Deanna walks you to the department store, gives your name to one of the soldier’s standing guard. He points you in the right direction, and she goes with you, a steady hand on your back, until you find the cot you’ve been assigned, tucked in the corner of the section where all the towels would have been, the displays still up on the walls. “We took them all already,” she tells you, giving you a half-grin as she picks up the blanket on your cot, unfolding the fabric. “Those extra-plush suckers make great bandages.”

You’re quiet, tucking your bag and your food and clothing under the cot. They’d refilled your first aid kit, too. Your knees are almost shaking as you lower yourself onto the edge of the bed, and the relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming. Tears spring in your eyes, but you don’t have the energy to wipe them away.

“Get some sleep, honey,” she tells you, and puts a soft hand on your shoulder as you slip sideways, collapsing onto the pillow. “You’ll be safe. Sleep as much as you need.”

She pulls the blankets over you, and it’s silly, but you clutch the bat to your chest. You’d wiped it down, too, cleaned the blood and dirt from the metal. Sleep takes hold as soon as you let your eyes close, and you pray no nightmares follow.

PREV | NEXT

[skaruresonic]

Why do you guys always add the caveat of "Sonic only kills... if he absolutely has to" like it matters? Dead is dead.

Does Sonic kill? Yes. Okay, good, we have established that he does. There's no need to add fine print. It's not like those he kills can suddenly un-die just because he says "You left me no choice. :<" which tbh I'd argue he almost never does anyway

And no, Sonic does not whip out killing as a "last resort" after exhausting all available options; otherwise, he would not have stolen Eggman's jetpack hose at the end of Lost World.

This idea that Sonic just lets Eggman go all la-di-dah when he technically could kill Eggman right then and there is so incredibly bad-faith. Why doesn't Sonic just seize the opportunity?

1.) You're assuming he hasn't tried, many times, while also forgetting that Eggman is good at escaping and surviving things that would usually kill other people,

and 2.) I don't know, same reason Shadow doesn't kill everyone in the room and then himself even though he technically could at any given moment. You're pointing at Sonic just... Being Sonic(tm) and citing that as damning proof that he's somehow bestowing freedom on people. Literal "Luigi wins by doing nothing."

This is predicated on the most asinine possible reading of the games' various endings. You are literally making shit up and trying to convince people that that's how it went down in the games.

To hearken back to the SA2 example, the game says N O T H I N G about Sonic "letting Eggman go"; you just assume he did. We don't know how the crew got back to Earth. We don't know if they took a teleporter. We don't know if Sonic and Eggman left at the same time, even though Sonic is last to leave the control room. We don't even know if Eggman snuck away like usual. You are essentially writing fanfiction of the events you think transpired, because the game's insistence that Sonic's beef with Eggman isn't the ending's emotional priority at that point in time has eluded you.

"He doesn't attack rulers" - why would he? What beef does Sonic have with the President? With Elise? Is the implication supposed to be that he otherwise would have reason to attack them if either one got too big for their britches? That sounds a little panopticon-ish for how Sonic usually operates, isn't it?

Fuck me, the Commander is 10x bloodthirstier than the rest of GUN, and yet Sonic still chooses to team up with him in the Diablon boss fights just to stop Shadow's rampage. Again, Sonic makes allies out of convenience; he doesn't go out of his way to rehabilitate people.

Besides, if these world-ending exceptions occur on a regular basis, then they can't exactly be called rare, can they?

This is such a circular goddamn argument. You're arguing as if the mitigating circumstances really matter to Sonic's character. Like he performs some form of moral calculus of "Should I offer this guy freedom?" before every kill, instead of playing things by ear and by common sense.

When nearly every game has Sonic killing the monster du jour because he absolutely has to or else the world will end, the last part of "Sonic only kills when necessary" really doesn't matter anymore, does it? It becomes less of a rarity and more of a pattern.

Like, the only thing you could possibly be implying here is that Eggman doesn't count as the kind of villain that merits the "omae wa mou shindeiru" treatment from Sonic, despite being the most persistent threat to the planet.

Also, Sonic hates Eggman so badly that Shahra has to beg him to save his facsimile. King Shahryar merely suffers from the misfortune of resembling his nemesis, and Sonic only begrudgingly saves him. He wasn't like "Oh, no, poor Shahryar! I'll rescue him right away!"

Sonic so happens to accept the help of new allies out of pragmatism. He doesn't make the conscious decision to offer people freedom and second chances like he's the arbiter of who gets to live free or die. If someone he "lets go" so happens to survive, that is pure coincidence.

Until those who fuck around find out, he will continue to throw down with them without scruple. Conflating what is essentially Sonic making allies of convenience with "Sonic rehabilitates people through the power of justice" is not only wrong, it's disingenuous as hell.

Besides, if Sonic is supposed to be the series' rehabilitationist, then he's really fucking shitty at his job, considering that half the time he's not even the one doing it.

It's other characters like Amy and Cream who sway hearts and minds. It was Cream who befriended Blaze and introduced her to the crew long before Blaze and Sonic ever had their final confrontation. It was Amy who won over Shadow and Gamma. It was Rouge who convinced Omega to team up with her and Shadow against Eggman.

Some important nuance is definitely being lost in these debates, and I don't know what, but rest assured Sonic lives the way he wants. He does what he feels is right.

It so happens that the thing he wants to do is the right thing. I need you all to understand that that is not me saying Sonic is immoral, or even amoral. I am saying that Sonic is not guided by staunch principles of freedom and justice because, ironically enough, principles would limit what he wants to do.

[ferfbish]

What your spooky month pfp says about you!

all my muts @mayisgoingnuts @bulldog-geckorahhhhh @candyclazzyashton @0pumpkinpie @lolipoptheclown @roy-shenanigans whoooo!

(note im not a expert on people and why they like things so if you cant relate to some of these go talk to god or something idk) (one more thing no images cuz my computer sucks and it takes forever)

kevin: overworked, overstimulated, underpaid, GAY next

skid: you are a being of complete destruction for no reason other than ''I can and I will'' and the ADHD of the two.

pump: you also are a being of conplete destruction for no reason other than ''I can and I will" you also dont have autism you have ''awwwtisum''.

happy fella: you took that ''imma little trash rat'' to heart and i love you for that.

bob: you either like him cuz hes you energy or your that ''i wanna fuck your beekeeping dad" meme.

lila: you are the mom of the group or you wish your mom was like her.

father gregor: im forced to think your also a gf fan cuz ant no way your not a MASSIVE yoai shipper also 85% chance your a mad gilf lover.

skids dad: you prob started a cult on discord when you were 12 for funnsies.

moluch: you kin him cuz you got mad anger issues you also are that ''i eat kids'' meme.

roy: your 90% of sm fans you most definitely got that cartman swagg and im willing to bet you say something like ''i will cry scream and through up in that order if xyandz doesn't happen'' same babe same.

ross: you took the one guy with the least voice lines out of anybody and went like ''i love him i love him so much''.

robert: your cool and better than them all. * cough cough awwwtisum

streber: ok i went over this list like 30 times in my head and all i could think is yaoi shipper cuz like he looks cool, he likes Halloween, hes gay and he got de armed those first three things ARE LITTERLY ALL OF US.

frank: stop now bad no STOP SIMMPING HE KIDNAPPS CHILDREN BAD NO.

the clown: clownergy.

john: yaoi shipper but depressed.

jack: basic sorry.

dexter: dog person, autistic.

patty: depressed also youd be like the bill has a gun meme if you had a gun. *cough cough lesbian

candy dealer: you dissapoint me like HES JUST A FUCKING HAT YOU ARE SIMPING FOR A FUCKING HAT????????????????.

juan: you like lesbians, as you should as you should.

radford: you like one of the better ships, idk he cool.

roys mom: you looked at the 20sec she was on screen and went like "i mean shes an asshole but DAMM IS SHE FINE" which same my pfp would be her if i didint like robert more.

the guy who keeps quitting his job (i forgor his name): you gave up before you even started: hes one of the smarter ones tbh bro went like ''im not gonna get murderd over a shitty underpaying candy job fuck this".

alright thats all i could think of. if i missed any let me know and i might make a part two. i hope some of you are offended i want all the smoke losers.