#vans sneakers transformation

[tf-kinky]

Some twat really started on me huh? Well I have always wanted some really cool nice sneakers, and VANS are really cool. So that twat became these high top VANS I'm now wearing! Gonna pick on me your gonna get TFed! 😈😈😈😈

I can't even begin to imagine how his new life is wrapped round my feet. I'm already wearing really dirty socks as well who were once another guy who tried to start on me. One of the socks recently developed a hole making his TF permanent! Not that I was gonna turn that twat back anyway. 😈😈😈😈

It must be such a rancid experience for the insole face of the sneakers, having those filthy dirty socks pressed into his insole face! I have such a massive hard on just thinking about his new life in his own personal hell! 😈😈😈😈

[anon-sect]

Picture source: @its.my.shoez Instagram account

Drake would often see the coworker in the cubicle across from him wearing his shoes sockless. He found his feet hot and, at times, fantasized about them. But he was nervous to approach his coworker about his foot fetish, unsure of how he would respond.

One day, Drake decided to take a chance on it. He sent a quick email to his coworkers station. In the email, he told him about how hot his feet look and how much he would love to massage them for him. He waited for a reply, so nervous about what he would say or think about it.

Drake received a reply that was thirty minutes later from Luke. Luke told him to meet him in the private break room at noon to see how serious he was about his feet. Drake was excited and yet nervous at the same time. It was a reply he didn't expect.

Drake meets Luke in the private break room as directed. Luke propped his feet on the chair next to him. "So, you admire my bare feet, show me," Luke requested. Drake got to his knees and removed his shoes. He began massaging his feet for a good five minutes while Luke snacked on some fresh fruit he brought with him to eat. Sometimes, he would look down at him, massaging his feet and smile.

"Give my feet some kisses while you massage them." Luke requested while messing with his phone. Drake kissed and massaged his feet. He noticed that Luke's feet had a little odor to them, but he loved it. He began licking between his toes and licking the soles of his feet.

Luke noticed his break time was almost up. He rather enjoyed this little foot worship session during lunch. He wanted it to continue while he worked. There was only one way to do that. He pulled out his TF phone that he carries with him sometimes. "I hope you won't mind, but I like for you to continue worshipping my bare feet. Hopefully, I won't forget to take you off before going home." He spoke to a confused look on Drake's face. He pressed a button on his TF phone, and a flash of light beamed at Drake. Where Drake once was, were a pair of clean van shoes. He put on the clean shoes and gathered up his old ones. Once back at his desk, he placed his old shoes in a bag on the side of his desk.

Drake didn't know exactly what happened when he saw the light flash at him. But he knew exactly what Luke had done to him the moment he saw a foot get secured on his face in a nice fit. The walking part further proved what he was now. Luke had turned him into a pair of shoes. Each step was cushioned by his face. It was quite painful to him, but probably felt good for Luke. This was not how he wanted to spend his time at work. He sensed that his senses were extremely heightened. The foot odor was far more intense than before. He slightly wanted to push them away but lacked the ability because he was now an inanimate object. He was forced to suffer under Luke's bare feet for the rest of the day.

Luke left his desk several hours later to go to the restroom. He was only gone a few minutes. When he returned, he saw the bag with his old shoes were gone from the side of his desk. He inquired about it from the coworker next to him. He was told one of the janitorial staff thought it was trash and took it. He went to go find him, only to find out the trash was already thrown in the compactor. There was no way to retrieve them.

Luke went back to his desk. That meant he would have to take Drake home with him. There was no way he was leaving work barefoot. It would look rather strange. There was a plus, though. Drake was really comfortable wearing barefoot. It's been a while since he found shoes this comfortable wearing without socks. He finished up his work day and headed home.

Drake heard the sound of Luke's car starting up. He felt himself being pressed on the break and gas pedals. Luke was leaving work, still wearing him. He tried to protest, but there was no way of doing so. He didn't want to go home with his coworker as his shoes even though he liked Luke's feet. He was a human being, not a pair of shoes. "My old shoes got thrown out by accident. So, I honestly had no choice but to wear you home. I promise in the morning to turn you back to normal." He heard Luke speak to him while he drove. His desire to worship his feet landed him in a precarious situation. He now only hoped that Luke would keep his promise.

SIX MONTHS LATER........

Luke's Van's looked so used up. He honestly liked them looking this way. Drake has been his shoes since he has been six months since he was humanly at work. He kept using him so much that he forgot to transform him back. By the time he remembered that he had promised to do so, it had already been too long. How was Drake to explain where he had been for six months? That would be a nightmare for his former coworker. It's best after all this time just to settle in being his shoes. In that way, Drake doesn't have to explain his whereabouts, and he gets to keep the most comfortable shoes he has ever worn. He just hoped his bare feet hadn't completely warped his mind after six months

Drake was loving every day his Master Luke wore him. At first, he hated it, but over time, he forgot he was ever human. He thought his master had bought him from a store. He loved being used by his Master's feet. There was no greater purpose than supporting his master with each step he took wearing him. He was always shoes from his perspective. He was always sad when his master took him off his feet and overjoyed when being worn. Even though it was painful being walked on or stood on every time, yet as long as his Master's feet were comfortable, it was all worth it. He was shoes belonging to his Master Luke. No other life could be better than this.

[chrissy-kaos]

For those of you that always ask what kind of shoes I wear all the time.. im rocking the classic black/white sk8-hi. But we're Vans girls. We don't wear anything else.

[divineecelestial]

Pretty Girl [3] Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary — Eddie thinks he'll actually die if you keep ignoring him. So he's going to make you talk to him. Even if that means climbing through your window.

Word Count — 3.1k

Warnings — graphic depictions of sexual activity, oral sex (fem receiving) dirty talk, Eddie jerks off while eating you out

18+ ONLY

I didn't forget about you sluts.

“I can take you home.” 

You watched as your group of friends slowly disappeared from view, their voices diminishing into silence as the car drove further down the road. The smile faded from your lips as a chilly breeze crashed against you were overcome with the realization that you were alone. Both literally and figuratively. Your friends, something you weren’t even certain you could call them, had forgotten you. No, that wasn’t the right word. Left you must’ve been more accurate because they knew you were there but none of them seemed to even care they left you alone under a yellow streetlamp on an empty road as raindrops dampened your uniform. Yes, left behind was the right term for it. Disregarded and ignored. You glanced down at the brown stains on your white, or what used to be sneakers. Goosebumps rose on your exposed legs as you crossed your arms, trying to preserve as much warmth as you could. You took a deep breath, readying yourself for the journey home as your eyes stung with warm tears.

With reluctance, you peered over your shoulder and sighed shakily. There was a flicker of anger passing through you as you took him in; casually leaning against his van with his adorned hands stuffed inside his pockets. Of course, he was there. He was always there whenever you needed him as far away as possible. You blinked away the dwelling tears and whirled around, ignoring his presence entirely. You didn’t make it very far before you heard his heavy footsteps near you. “Oh, come on. I might be a dick but I’m not gonna let you walk home alone, at night, in the rain.” You wanted to remark that ‘might’ wasn’t accurate. He was a dick. “Especially in your pretty little uniform.” 

You could feel your strands of hair sticking to your skin as you hesitantly faced him. “Oh, so you’re gonna protect me?” You questioned as if the mere idea of him keeping you from everything that goes bump in the night was ridiculous. Because that wasn’t him and that wasn’t how this dynamic worked. “I don’t think so. I’d rather take my chances with whatever is out there.” You said, glancing at the darkness surrounding the town. You knew what was out there. Dealt with everything that could’ve possibly killed you and survived, but here you were, dreading getting inside a car with him.

He loomed closer and your glare hardened as your nostrils flared. God, he couldn’t get over how pretty you looked when you were mad at him. You were finally acknowledging him again with that delicious anger he’d been craving. And for a brief moment, he couldn’t have even bothered to notice your wrath flaming beneath your harsh gaze because you were finally acknowledging him. You were finally looking at him with those damn eyes he swore he could lose himself in and he didn’t seem to care that you were only looking at him because you were on the verge of slapping him across the face.

  Things were different. And this time, this change wasn’t a welcome one and you were desperate for everything to suddenly transform back to ‘normal’. Or as normal as things could get between you two. The weekend arrived and you didn’t want to go anywhere, irrationally worried you were going to see him. Avoiding him like he was contaminated with the plague wasn’t something you were used to. Sure, before this relationship progressed, you didn’t go out of your way to speak with him, but now, you couldn’t even walk in the same hallway without being consumed by embarrassment. 

As ridiculous as this might’ve seemed, the kiss you abruptly pressed against him was strangely intimate. Well, for you it was. Because sex could just be something as simple as people seeking physical pleasure from another person. A simple hook-up. That connection was fiery, consuming, and temporary. You might not have had sex with him, but he allowed you to chase that all-consuming pleasure from him and you felt stupid for thinking he could’ve thought of you as anything other than some sex toy. You kissed him and he rejected you. 

“You don’t mean that.” His smirk was cruel and you were moments from scratching his face until he was unrecognizable. “Come on, pretty girl. I’ll keep my hands to myself and drive with two hands on the wheel.” 

As soon as the words fell from his lips, another breeze moved through the ice-cold air and you shivered. The light rainfall slowly dampened his unruly hair and you knew the downpour was going to drastically change soon. You looked upward at the dark skies and clamoring clouds, silently cursing at them for this. Oh, gosh, this couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t seriously be considering this. Sitting in a small and enclosed space with Eddie Munson for who knows how long after he had practically rejected you was outrageous. You were going to deny the offer when a loud crack echoed throughout town. Thunder. His smile only widened. “Fine. Give me your jacket.” He raised his eyebrows at the sudden demand but complied regardless. That’s how it worked between you both; you demanded and he complied. Most of the time.  In one fluid movement, his jacket was removed and he wordlessly handed it to you. You removed your backpack and cheer bag and roughly smacked it against his chest before walking to his passenger door, decidedly ignoring his groan. He quickened his pace to open the door for you. “If you try any of your shit, I’m jumping out of the car.” You warned.

His jacket was warm and smelled like his cologne and weed. You tightened the fabric around yourself and flicked on the heater. He pulled away from the school’s desolate parking lot and drove away. A minute hadn’t gone by before he opened his mouth. “Why were you at school this late?” He knew why. He had practically memorized your schedule and knew exactly what you were doing most days, but he just wanted to listen to your voice. It had been too long since he had heard your voice directed at him.

You were quiet and didn’t answer immediately. He was going to ask the question again before your voice filled the confines of his car. “Cheer practice.” You answered shortly, gaze remaining outside the window and at the passing blur of colors. “You?” You hesitantly asked. You didn’t know why you bothered asking. You knew what he was doing there. He was cleaning the mess left behind by the Hellfire Club and doing whatever else dungeon masters do. You only knew because the kids were practically attached to him. It’s not like you wanted to know or asked about it before. Of course not.

“Hellfire.” And you must’ve been delusional if you thought Eddie was granting you some kind of mercy and deciding to drive the remainder of the trip in sweet silence. Yes, delusional indeed. “I’ve been trying to talk to you. These past couple of days, you know.” You did know, it was impossible to not notice such an imposing figure in your life like him. Beneath the facade of flippancy and sarcasm, there was the undeniable truth—he was hurt. And this wasn’t an ordinary kind of hurt. This was an ache that throbbed and demanded to be felt, the lifeless thump of a cracked heart before transforming into a sharpness, unlike anything he had ever experienced. Heartache was a disease desperate to be felt. The cure of his was inches away from him, shrouded with his clothes.

“I didn’t notice.” You lied straight through your teeth and he knew you were lying. 

His eyes remained on the road, but his grip on the wheel tightened. “I just wish you would let me explain—”

You breathed in sharply. “There isn’t anything to explain.” Another lie. 

There was another crackle and a flash of light scattered across the sky. “Yes, there is. Just let me—” 

The driveway of your household was steadily approaching and you were already unbuckling your seatbelt, practically tumbling outside as soon as the van stopped moving. “Thank you for the ride.” He watched as you disappeared behind your door, closing it without glancing back. 

Beneath the warmth of your blankets, you readjusted yourself with your eyes closed. Your face was smushed against your pillows, a small sigh escaping you as you squeezed your pillow tighter. The sound of your window opening filled the silent air and your eyes snapped open, hurriedly looking over your shoulder before jolting upright. “Your hair is sticking out everywhere.” A voice said casually. “Cute.” 

The chill from the midnight breeze crashed against you like an icy tidal wave. Across the room, and casually perched on your windowsill, was Eddie. You rubbed the side of your face and groaned, promptly shoving your face back onto your baby pink pillows. You should’ve been worried, frightened even, that he had broken into your room, but the only emotion you could manage was exhaustion. “What are you doing here?” Your voice was muffled as you spoke into the fabric.

This must’ve been a figment of his depraved imagination, a scene plucked from his dreams—you were languidly sprawled across your blankets and wearing nothing but a small nightgown. And that nightgown revealed the softness of your breasts as you slowly faced him, your bare ass peeking beneath the thin fabric. As you pressed your cheek against your palm, finally offering your hazy attention, the breath was stolen from lungs and he subtly latched onto the windowsill to steady himself. “You know, those friends back there didn’t really seem like friends. Just an observation.” He was stalling. He knew he was, but he was desperate for a semblance of normality. 

You breathed in sharply. “Well, you can keep your observations to yourself.” 

It was silent for a beat. “You wanna hear another observation?” He didn’t care if you didn’t.

You yawned, blinking slowly. “Not really, but I’m sure you're going to share anyway.”

He smiled, thoroughly enjoying the annoyance searing your voice. “I think you like being around me because you don’t have to pretend. You can be your mean, stubborn, and bratty self around me. Around them, you have to be The Head Cheerleader.” You weren’t even focusing on the coldness filling the room or even acknowledging that he was inside your room. That hadn’t been processed completely. Yet. “It’s obvious. I don’t know how no one else doesn’t notice.”

Through your sleepy gaze, you narrowed your eyes. “You think you know me, Munson?” 

“No, I do know you.” He answered so surely. “I think you’re forgetting I grew up with you.” That wasn’t something you could ever forget even if you had tried. And you had desperately. “You were my first-ever crush. I was obsessed with you. Still am, by the way.” He casually added. “I grew up watching you. I memorized everything about you. I even watched those damn pep rallies for you. Failed classes so you could be my tutor. I even bribed Mr. Johnson so I could be your partner for the project that let me see those pretty little panties of yours.”

He moved away from the windowsill and loomed closer to the edge of your bed. “So I need you to understand something. You were my first and only crush. You were my first of many wet dreams. You were the only girl who made me nervous and made me feel like some lovesick loser because you looked at me. There were times when I couldn’t fucking function because you smelled so good, said something so damn smart in class, or yelled at Carver for being a dick. I need you to understand I have been and still am, fucking crazy for you and you kissed me.”

He kneeled, his tentative hands softly caressing your thighs before pressing a small kiss on your knee. “I need you to understand that I’m the loser who plays D&D with freshmen, sells weed, and hasn’t had a girlfriend, who fucking watches porn to practice for this exact moment and you’re you.” Another gentle kiss on your other knee. “And, fuck, you’re so perfect. The goddamn prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss on your thigh. “So damn smart.” Another kiss on your other thigh. “And you’re funny. You challenge me.” His nose nudged the hem of your nightgown as he licked the inside of your thigh. “So I do know you and I know you like me. And that’s something I can’t wrap my head around.”

You shuddered as his breath brushed against your skin, unintentionally wrapping your leg around his shoulder, your calf pressed against his back, pulling him closer. You whispered his name, a plead for something. Anything. Your voice, breathless and desperate, was a siren’s call and he would’ve swam to the depths of the darkest ocean to hear it again and again.

The words uttered from his flushed lips were barely processed as lifted the hem of your nightgown. His eyes rolled to the back of his head before closing them, almost as if he were murmuring a silent prayer, and he took a moment to admire the godly sight before him. Hidden beneath the softness of your nightgown and thighs was something he had only dreamed of. Yeah, of course, he’d seen pussies before. From porn, mind you, but this was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He didn’t understand how you, probably the most perfect woman to ever roam this earth, had just become even better. 

You could feel each slow breath from him as he simply admired. “Do something.” You whispered. Your voice was a soft reminder that he needed to move, do something as you put it. Slowly, his tongue dragged across your pussy and a primal groan escaped his mouth. He pulled away suddenly and you glanced at him curiously. He looked concentrated, brows scrunched together in deep thought. “I-Is something wrong?” 

A moment passed and he shook his head. “I’m just trying not to cum.” He eventually said. 

You threw your head back and laughed, which was stifled by a moan as he shoved his head back between your thighs. His initial movements were experimental, unsure, but as he continued and listened to your sounds, he knew what he was doing. Sort of. “Fuck, yes.” Your voice was unrecognizable to your own ears and the moans slipping from your lips were unlike anything you had made when alone. 

This was the exact moment where Eddie decided he was going to marry you in the future. But first he was going to make you cum. 

With his tongue still flicking against your clit, occasionally sucking, he unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock from the confines of his clothes. Your legs shook as he shoved two ringed fingers inside you, slowly pumping you and memorizing every detail of this moment before he gathered the juices of your arousal and jerked himself off. “So fucking wet.” He said, pathetically whining as the pornographic sound of your wetness coated his cock. “I don’t know how I lived this long without tasting you.”

Your thighs pressed against his face as your hand pulled his hair and he promptly decided if he were to die tonight, he would die a happy man. This is where he belonged. Most men wanted to be businessmen, sleep on a bed full of money with dozens of women keeping them company, but he didn’t. His face shoved between your shaking thighs, sucking on your clit as you yanked his hair and moaned his name, was where he belonged. “Please don’t stop.” You pleaded. And as much as Eddie loved hearing you yell at him, he decided this was how he wanted to hear you from now on. "Yes, yes, yes. Don't stop."

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my pretty girl.” God, him and that nickname were going to be the death of you. 

“I-I’m gonna—” Your voice cracked and you couldn’t finish your own sentence. 

His hand clutched your thigh with a newfound roughness, pulling your closer, and his other hand squeezed and tugged his leaking cock. “Come on, pretty girl. Come for me.” His pace and movements didn’t change or falter. “Give it to me. Come for me, please. I need it.” 

At that moment, you decided Eddie wasn’t going anywhere. He was never getting rid of you because he ate your pussy like a starving man and made you cum until you saw twinkling stars. “You have the filthiest fucking mouth—”

His wet mouth pressed against yours, his hands coated with your juices and he clutched your cheek. “You taste that?” He asked after pulling away, his lips faintly brushed against yours, teasing. “That’s the taste of the prettiest girl—” He kissed you again and you were barely able to process the softness of his mouth against you before he pulled away again. “Who fucking likes me and can’t deny it.”

And his knees buckled as you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against you. “What have you done to me, Eddie Munson?”  You mumbled. He could feel your glittering smile against his and there wasn’t anything more beautiful. 

He saw the gilded walls surrounding your heart and decided he was going to do everything he could to get there. He poked and prodded, tugged and pulled before deciding to take a jackhammer and destroy everything keeping him from you. “My five-year plan of seducing you finally worked.” And he stopped for only a moment, processing the mere fact that this was real. He was really touching you, tasting you, licking your cum off his soaked lips. “I’ve dreamed of this.” His voice was low and below a whisper, his warm breath tickling your face with each word. You could feel the warmth of his lips touching your shoulder, a ghostly caress against your skin.  

You placed a few random pecks on his face. “I really like you, Eddie Munson.” There was vulnerability exuding from you, unlike anything he’d ever seen from you before. 

“So this is what the famous [Y/N] is like behind closed doors.” The pouring rain soaked the floor outside your room, the grey clouds visible through the droplet-covered windows.  "Who would’ve thought my pretty girl was so sweet?” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, smacking his arm. “Shut up.” You laughed. He would've fought (and probably lose) anyone just to hear that beautiful sound again and again.

“That’s not what you were saying earlier. Oh, Eddie, please don’t stop. I’m gonna cum!” He mocked with an obnoxiously high pitched voice.

You decided a another kiss would be the best way to shut him up. “God, you’re so pretty I’m gonna faint.” He mumbled, squeezing your breasts and pinching your hardened nipples. “Can I please fuck you? If I don’t fuck you and cum inside that pretty pussy, I think I’ll die.”

You moaned into his mouth and he gratefully swallowed the sound. “Yeah, come on, Eds, fill me up.”

“Fuck yes.”

[alexihollis]

Paying Your Dues

A short thing I wrote, trying to get a better hold on the dynamics and everything. More stuff to come probably! The brain worms really got a hold on this one lol.

“Swan? That you?” Swan heard Cleon call from the kitchen as she shut the door to the apartment behind her, locking the three dead-bolts and hooking the chain. It had been a few months since the Van Cortland Park meeting, but Cleon still insisted on the higher level of security. 

“Just until the Riffs give the all-clear,” she would say, but…Well, Swan did not have high-hopes that that would ever happen. Luther’s damage ran deep and Rogues kept popping up as new recruits of other gangs in ways that made everyone uneasy. The Orphans alone seemed to take half that the Riffs did not pick up the morning after Cyrus’ death, though Mercy insisted Sully was too dumb to be much of a threat. At least Masai seemed…weirdly fascinated with Cleon in a way that Swan did not want to interrogate too deeply. Or at all. 

“Yeah,” Swan called back as she shrugged out of her winter jacket, hanging it up with the beanie she stole from Cowgirl – who bitched, but had an extra hat anyway and Swan was freezing, winter weather really settling in the week after Thanksgiving. If Cowgirl cared that much, she would cross the street from her, Cochise, and Rembrandt’s apartment and steal it back later. 

Cleon appeared in the hallway, slouching against the wall, arms crossed. “Cool. We need to talk about something.”

That took Swan’s attention away from her boots as she straightened back up to look at Cleon, one boot off and one on. “What’s wrong? Is it Ajax?”

After three months, Ajax finally came home. Not even two weeks out, she was still jumpy. Quiet in an unnerving way. Cleon had yet to send her out on an errand and Swan didn’t know how long Ajax would let that slide. 

“No, no, she’s fine. Or- you know what I mean. Rembrandt came by and stole her earlier. No clue what they’re gonna be up to, but at least she’s out of her bedroom.” Cleon shook her head, “Anyway, no. It’s about Mercy- Nothing’s wrong.”

Swan’s heart started beating again. “For fuck’s sake, Cleon!” She threw a glove at Cleon’s head, that she easily ducked, laughing like an asshole. 

“For the love of God, I got her a bartending job two blocks away, will you chill out about her not being in your sight for two seconds?” Yeah. This had been Swan’s life for the past three months. Because her Warrior sisters were assholes. Cleon pushed off the wall, “Come on. I made coffee, we can talk in the kitchen.”

The mug was warm in Swan’s hands and the coffee even warmer as she took a too large drink, barely missing blistering. It suited the cooler weather.

“So, what do we need to talk about?” Swan asked when it became obvious that Cleon wasn’t going to start. Which was strange, because Cleon was not exactly known for her indecisiveness. 

Cleon sighed heavily before saying, “Have you noticed Mercy doesn’t have any clothes?”

Immediately, Swan’s eyebrows tried to merge with her hairline. “Uh…?”

“Her own clothes,” Cleon said.

And Swan went to disagree. Mercy had her own clothes – her color vest, for one, that she had been beyond excited about when Cleon gave it to her. There was a red flannel that she wore all the time. That she definitely stole from Cowgirl, now that Swan was thinking about it. The t-shirt Mercy was wearing the night of the meeting that somehow survived with minimal staining. Her jeans. Her sneakers and the zip-up hoodie. She wore those clothes a lot, when she wasn’t stealing Swan’s stuff. 

She mostly stole Swan’s stuff. Not that Swan was complaining. It started early on, with Mercy rolling out of bed and snagging one of Swan’s t-shirts while Swan half-heartedly complained about thievery to make Mercy laugh. 

When Mercy started working at the bar, Cochise had leant her some appropriate clothes. A small black dress. The tiniest skirt that Swan had ever seen. A pair of similarly sized shorts. A few black t-shirts. It had mostly surprised Swan how many clothes Cochise had to lend in the first place and it had been weeks now. 

Huh.

That was about the time a thick white envelope was placed on the table in front of Swan. At her confusion, Cleon motioned for Swan to open it. It was filled with cash.

“What is this?” Swan asked.

“Mercy’s dues,” Cleon said. 

Swan flipped through the cash. Did the mental math. “This is at least four times what she should be paying. When did she even start paying dues?”

“I didn’t ask for it,” Cleon said. “She gave it to me last night. I stopped by Jenkins earlier. He said that’s practically all the money she’s made at the bar, tips and paychecks.”

“And what did Mercy say? When she gave you this?”

“That she wanted to pay her dues. Contribute to the Warriors. Said thank you for getting her the job and letting her stay here and food and everything,” Cleon said. “She asked if this covered it and when I said, yes, it more than covered it, she asked me to put whatever was left towards your dues.”

“I don’t pay dues,” Swan said. 

The only ones who really did were members who did above-the-counter work, members who made the bulk of their money outside of the gang, which, technically, would put Mercy in that category, but Cleon usually waited a good six months before even broaching the topic. And even then, there were a lot of other circumstances that surrounded whether someone paid into what was less “dues” and more a communal money pot for rent for the various Warrior apartments, food, and, in certain circumstances, a slightly better lawyer. Which, considering Ajax’s recent run-in, did mean that pot could use a bit of boosting, but they still had a comfortable cushion. While Swan expected Cleon to ask Mercy for dues at some point, it was still early and this amount?

“I know.” Amazing. Swan loved it when Cleon talked in circles. Taking pity on her, Cleon continued. “She said that she wanted to pay back whatever you had paid for her over these few months. Said that she didn’t want to just be A Girlfriend anymore, but a fully-fledged member. Which seemed like a lot of emotion that you are in a better position to help her with while you try to convince her to spend her damn money on herself.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that,” Swan sighed, rubbing a hand down her face as she tried to think of where to even begin with that conversation. 

Because this was going to be about a lot more than money. They had been skirting around this conversation since the moment Mercy handed Swan her Orphans bandana to make the Molotov cocktail. Like when Swan dragged an overly drunk Mercy home from a house party at one of the lower-level Warriors apartment because someone (Vermin, definitely Vermin) told her it was part of the more traditional initiation. When it came to talking about herself, Mercy got cagy. Not many Warriors liked talking about family, Swan steered as far from the subject as she could, but Mercy wouldn’t even give a damn neighborhood.

Girls like Mercy joined the Warriors before, usually young enough that it made Cleon nervous and so jumpy they refused to give a name until they earned their name. They wanted to burn their old lives to ashes and throw them in the ocean off Coney Island. Swan respected that, she all but did it herself, but they always made Cleon nervous. Until recently, Swan didn’t really understand why – they made some of the best soldiers, fighting with everything in them and then some. Swan loved helping them learn to fight.

Swan loved helping Fox learned to fight. 

Then Swan learned what all that desire to prove yourself, to throw yourself into your new life and protect anyone you got close to could lead to. 

Losing Fox nearly killed her. Losing Mercy would finish the job.

“I’ll talk to her,” Swan repeated. 

Cleon smiled. Leaned over and ruffled her hair, which Swan half-heartedly protested. “It’ll be fine. And tell Rembrandt to take her shopping. The poor girl’s too pretty to be stuck in your clothes. Or your taste in clothes.”

“Fuck off, Cleon,” Swan grumbled. 

The next few hours found Swan in her and Mercy’s bedroom. She tried to distract herself by reading. That failed. Turned on the radio. Got sick of the radio. Tried to watch TV in the living room. Got bored of the news that Cleon insisted on watching for whatever reason. In general, she was being ridiculous. 

The hours leading up to a rumble? Swan was calm. Collected. Helping their newer members chill the fuck out and not lose their heads before the fight began. 

Hours leading up to a potentially emotionally charged conversation with her girlfriend, though? That was the time to panic. Perfect sense. One hundred percent logical. 

Swan didn’t hear the door open. 

She barely heard when Mercy said, “Babe, what are you doing?”

Swan turned on her heel, mid-pace to see Mercy looking at her quizzically as she closed the bedroom door behind her. And said the first thing that popped into her head: “You need new clothes.”

Mercy blinked and looked down at herself, then back to Swan. “I thought you liked this skirt.”

It was Cochise’s skirt. Swan loved that skirt. That was not the point. “Sit down.”

Mercy sat down on the very edge of the bed. “Are you just gonna stand there?”

Swan sat next to her, also perched on the edge, and just far enough that they didn’t touch. They rarely sat like that, especially in their room. It felt alien. 

“Is this about me giving my dues to Cleon?” Mercy asked. 

“She didn’t ask you for them. You don’t owe her any,” Swan said.

Mercy sighed. “Look, it isn’t that I’m not grateful, but…I want to contribute. I’m a Warrior. I’m a member just like anyone else.”

“You are a Warrior, this isn’t about that.”

“Then, why is Cleon being so weird about it?” Mercy asked.

“Because you don’t owe dues. Yes, you do have an actual job and you don’t join us on jobs or anything, but Cleon usually gives a six-month grace period to new members before talking about it,” Swan tried to explain.

“Are those other new members usually living in a Warriors funded apartment and eating Warriors funded food?” She cocked an eyebrow in a way that made it seem like she thought she had won the argument.

Unfortunately for Mercy: “Yes. Usually.” 

“What?”

“Cleon has a thing about picking up strays. Remember?” Swan said. Referencing herself, but then immediately: “Not that you’re a stray.”

Mercy laughed. “Well, I did follow you home.”

Swan chuckled with her. “You did in fact do that.”

A short period of silence followed after their laughter subsided. Mercy sighed, deeply. “I just don’t want people thinking I’m sleeping my way through here. Or that I have it easier than anyone else.” She aimed a slight glare at Swan, “You already refuse to put me through initiation properly.”

Oh, for the love of- “You went through more than enough. You have fucking Ajax vouching for you. You don’t have anything more to prove to anyone.” Then, a thought: “Is someone giving you shit?”

Swan could fix that. Easily. 

“No one here, I just-” Mercy let out a frustrated huff. “I’ve done that before. I’ve been that girl. I hated it. It was horrible. I don’t want to feel like that again.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that,” Swan said. “But…you know, treating you like any other Warrior includes not making you pay an absolutely ridiculous amount of dues.”

“All right, all right. Is Cleon giving it back to me or something?” Mercy asked.

Swan gestured over to their dresser. “It’s with the socks.”

“Thank you.”

“I promise people don’t think that about you,” Swan said. “You deserve to have your own things with the money you earned at Jenkins’ bar.” Swan narrowed her eyes slightly at the very familiar red sweater Mercy was wearing. “And I deserve for you to stop stealing my shit.”

“Mm, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mercy scooted back a little further onto the bed, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. 

“Oh, really?”

“Not at all.”

And, really, Swan should have probably thought through the having-an-important-conversation-on-their-bed a bit more, because how else did she think this was going to end? A good while later found them both on their backs, catching their breaths, in considerably less clothing than before. After a moment, Swan pulled their blanket up past their shoulders as Mercy moved onto her side, then tucked herself against Mercy’s back, face nestled in the small of her shoulder. 

“You know, considering the conversation topic, this didn’t really help your argument,” Mercy said. 

Swan rolled her eyes. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Why should I get my own clothes when these seem to be working just fine?”

Swan choked back a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I try.”

…

“Maybe keep the skirt, though.”

“Cochise said she doesn’t want it back anyway.”

[yeolsaintlaurent]

Crimson Veins, Midnight Flames ch.2 [BBH]

pairing - baekhyun x fem reader

additional characters - sehun, chanyeol

genre - mature, smut, thriller

themes - Social Divide, Ambition and Privilege, Dark Desires, Identity and Self-Discovery, Love triangle, Sex, Mystery and Gothic Elements

Synopsis - Explore the intricate world of Oxford University, where Baekhyun, a scholarship student, intertwines with the wealthy elite led by Sehun Oh and Y/N Van der Bilt. Against the backdrop of seductive parties and concealed love, the tale unfolds at the grand Ivy Crest Estate in the picturesque town of Willowbrook. Here, secrets and power plays unravel, revealing a collision between societal expectations and personal truths, with gothic nuances weaving through the rich tapestry of privilege and deceit. This is where the heart of the story beats, echoing with the footsteps of characters entwined in a dance of love, betrayal, and hidden mysteries.

warnings - drugs, orgy, nudity

Chapter 2: Intoxicated Whispers of Realities

The weekend arrived, ushering in a torrent of neon lights, thundering music, and the infectious energy of the party scene. Chanyeol, the embodiment of excitement, managed to coerce Baekhyun into attending one of Sehun's legendary house parties. Reluctant but intrigued, Baekhyun found himself at the doorstep of a pulsating spectacle.

The thumping bass resonated through the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter that reverberated within the confines of Sehun's grand residence. Baekhyun, wearing a pair of black slacks, a plain white t-shirt and worn down sneakers, felt like a ghost in a sea of vivid hues and designer outfits.

Chanyeol tossed the keys to his G-wagon over to the valet and then proceeded to pull Baekhyun into the heart of the madness. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, and the extravagant setting transformed into a kaleidoscope of colours, illuminated by vibrant neon lights and shrouded in a haze of smoke.

The grand entrance beckoned guests into a realm of luxury, adorned with exquisite marble statues that seemed to breathe life into the grandeur of the surroundings. Wait staff, poised with trays of tantalising drinks and pills, were stationed strategically to cater to Sehun's distinguished guests.

Inside, the party pulsated with life. A grand piano echoed with the notes of a skilled pianist, adding a touch of class to the vibrant chaos. The bar, a focal point of the festivities, boasted top-shelf liquor tended to by seasoned mixologists who crafted cocktails with finesse. The air was thick with the eclectic beats of the music, drawing people onto the dance floor where bodies swayed to the rhythm.

In one corner, a high-stakes poker game unfolded, the stakes rising with every round. For those seeking an even riskier and naughty thrill, a table nearby hosted a game of strip poker, laughter mingling with the suspense of the game. Outdoors, a massive pool became a hub of activity, with guests skinny dipping, and colourful floaties added a playful touch to the scene. The mansion, a playground of indulgence, buzzed with the heady cocktail of wealth and revelry.

"Come on, Baek! This shit is going to be fucking epic!" Chanyeol shouted over the music, leading Baekhyun through the chaotic dance floor.

As they navigated through the throngs of people, Chanyeol spotted a familiar face. "Yo, Sehun!" he hollered, beckoning for Baekhyun to follow.

Sehun, the stoic host of the wild affair, greeted them with a charismatic smile that barely masked his usually cold exterior. "Chanyeol, my man! Glad you could make it. And you have brought..?"

"This is Baekhyun," Chanyeol introduced, giving Baekhyun a playful nudge. "He's a bit new to the scene, but he's catching up."

Sehun extended a hand, impeccably dressed in head-to-toe Dior, his sharp gaze assessing Baekhyun. "Welcome, Baekhyun. Enjoy the party."

Baekhyun, feeling like a small fish in a vast, tumultuous ocean of debauchery, managed a polite nod. Sehun, his usually icy demeanour slightly thawed by Chanyeol's association, continued to judge Baekhyun based on his attire, silently questioning the connection between him and Chanyeol.

Sehun's opulent mansion played host to an exclusive gathering of affluent individuals, a meticulously curated assembly of young heirs draped in extravagance from head to toe. Adorned in scrupulously tailored ensembles and accessorised with the finest trappings, they emitted an unmistakable scent of wealth. Sehun's discerning eye had carefully selected guests who promised both social prestige and business potential.

In this high-society party setting, the guests shed their reserved exteriors, revealing a different facet of their personalities. While outside the walls of the mansion, they were draped in the veneer of propriety and formality, within its confines, inhibitions were cast aside. Laughter rang out unrestrained, and the grandiosity of the mansion provided the perfect backdrop for the elite to indulge in their most lavish desires. The atmosphere pulsated with unrestrained energy as Sehun's carefully chosen attendees let loose.

Chanyeol guided Baekhyun through various conversations and social circles, urging him to embrace the madness. Soon after, Baekhyun excused himself and wandered off to a quiet corner.

In a secluded alcove, shielded from the rhythmic beats, Sehun, draped in an air of haughty refinement, strolled up to Baekhyun. "Couldn't help but notice that Chanyeol's taken a liking to you. How's the party treating you?"

Baekhyun, caught off guard by Sehun's sudden attention, managed a modest smile. "Feeling a bit like the odd one out tonight to be honest."

Sehun, maintaining his aristocratic air, raised a disdainful eyebrow as he scrutinised Baekhyun's attire. "Well, you're certainly not…well prepared for the occasion."

Baekhyun, sensing the subtle arrogance, glanced at his choice of clothing. "Didn't expect this level of... extravagance."

Sehun, with a condescending smirk, replied, "Consider it a tip for next time. Dress the part. It's rather crucial if you want to run in these circles."

As Sehun gracefully navigated the party, Baekhyun found himself on the fringes of Sehun's exclusive circle, savouring morsels of conversations and glimpses of a more relaxed Sehun.

Driven by curiosity, he approached one of Sehun's friends, masking his interest with an air of casual conversation. "Hey, you know Sehun well?"

The friend, assessing Baekhyun with a hint of curiosity and scepticism, responded, "Yeah, we go way back. What's up?"

Baekhyun, feigning nonchalance, hesitated before delving into his inquiry. "What's his deal?”

The friend, sipping on their drink, chuckled knowingly. "Sehun tends to keep a cool exterior, especially with those outside his circle. But when he loosens up with a few drinks, it's a different story. Lucky for you, he's in a friendlier mood tonight." Hm, If you say so.

Playing the innocent card, Baekhyun probed further with subtlety. "Any idea why he's so fixated on my..clothes?"

The friend, offering a cryptic smile, shrugged casually. "Sehun values appearances highly and tends to scrutinise how people fit into his world. He believes that gaining entry is no casual affair, and not just anyone can seamlessly become part of his trusted circle or the circles of those he holds close."

As Baekhyun processed this revelation, he listened intently to the friend's insight into Sehun's world. Little did he know that this seemingly extravagant night would unravel layers of social intricacies, leaving him on the precipice of the unpredictable twists and turns that awaited him.

At another end of the party, Sehun approached one of his inner circle mates, a trusted confidant who had been with him through thick and thin. "Do you know anything about that guy, Baek..something?"

The friend, glancing at Baekhyun from a distance, replied, "Not much. He's a scholarship student. Almost never seen in social circles. People say he's…middle class."

Sehun, sipping his drink, raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. What's he doing here, then?"

The friend continued, "But here's the twist. One of our friends is in his class, and they say he's like.. a genius. Top of his class. Professor Harrington’s favourite. Got the brains, apparently."

Sehun, absorbing this unexpected revelation, contemplated the incongruity of Baekhyun's presence in the extravagant setting. The information lingered in the air as he continued to observe Baekhyun from afar, wondering what hidden layers lay beneath the surface of the scholarship student.

The night unfolded in a symphony of conversations, music and laughter echoing through Sehun's grand residence. There were semi-nude people sitting around the large oak dining table and playing strip poker. There were wait staff stationed everywhere, making sure the guests were served whatever they wish- drinks, pills and marijuana infused finger foods. 

Baekhyun sought refuge on the balcony amidst the swirling haze of smoke and the distant thumps of the bass.

His gaze wandered to Chanyeol, on a mission to be the life of the party, as he was being held upside-down at the keg, while elsewhere, students indulged in various degrees of intoxication. Baekhyun shook his head at the sight of two blokes snorting cocaine off the belly of a naked woman, silently disapproving.

Seeking a reprieve from the clamour, Baekhyun stepped onto the balcony. The cool night air offered a stark contrast to the heat and chaos inside. Lost in contemplation, he was caught off guard when Y/N appeared beside him.

"Hey! You're the guy that helped me out outside the exam hall! I’m so sorry I don’t think I caught your name" Y/N's voice cut through the ambient noise, her eyes sparkling with recognition.

Baekhyun, startled by her sudden presence, managed a sheepish smile. "Baekhyun, Hi! Yeah... I hope your exam went well."

Y/N nodded, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "I’m Y/N. And it did, all thanks to you. What are you doing out here? The party's inside, you know."

Baekhyun glanced inside and back at her. "Honestly, I’d much rather be listening to my records in the dorm than be in there," he confessed.

Y/N assessed him from top to bottom. "Well, you have to try it to knock it, right?" Before Baekhyun could respond, she grabbed his arm and led him back into the lively gathering.

Inside, Y/N called for attention, her friends turning curious gazes towards Baekhyun. "Hey, everyone! This is Baekhyun. He's the life-saver who helped me out during the exams!"

The group erupted into cheers, and Y/N continued to regale them with the tale of Baekhyun's timely assistance. The sudden attention overwhelmed him, but he couldn't resist the genuine warmth of Y/N's gratitude.

Sehun, observing from a distance, couldn't ignore the commotion. His girlfriend and her friends were fawning over Baekhyun, and his jaw tightened in response. Masking his irritation with a tight-lipped smile, he approached the group.

"What's going on here, my love?" he asked Y/N, his eyes fixed on Baekhyun.

Y/N beamed at Sehun. "Well~Baekhyun here saved the day during the exams. Isn't that amazing?"

Sehun, suppressing his annoyance, forced a smile. "I see. Thanks for helping my girlfriend, Baekhyun," he said, emphasising the possessiveness. "Well, I would definitely say that this calls for more shots." Sehun signalled one of the waitstaff, who promptly brought a tray filled with shot glasses filled with very strong, expensive spirits and liquors and some colourful pills. Sehun pushed a glass and a pink pill into Baekhyun's hands, subtly making sure he joined in on the drinking. The group then clinked their shot glasses and popped the pills on their tongues before downing the shots.

As the shots flowed freely, Baekhyun found more and more drinks being handed to him, and he caught himself in the whirlwind of the ‘celebration’. The alcohol blurred the edges of his consciousness, and Sehun, with a sly grin, continued to encourage him to indulge. By the time the ninth shot was downed, Baekhyun's head was spinning, and he excused himself.

Stumbling through the dimly lit house, Baekhyun approached Sehun for directions to the nearest restroom. Sehun, subtly relieved to be rid of the unexpected party guest, casually pointed him in a random direction.

Alone in the dimly lit hallway, Baekhyun felt the weight of the alcohol hitting him. As he turned a corner, he heard the raucous laughter and clinking glasses behind him. The scene was too much, and he couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling that he was out of his depth.

In his unsteady state, Baekhyun stumbled into an open door, expecting a bathroom. To his horror, he found himself in a room where a bunch of people were having an orgy. One of the guys, clearly high, signalled him to join them while someone else hurled their heel at him to shut the door. Caught off guard, he blurted out an apology and he quickly shut the door.

The embarrassment lingered as Baekhyun tried to regain his composure. The events of the night had taken an unexpected turn, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was navigating uncharted territory.

As Baekhyun walked away, he glanced back to see Sehun making a grand show of hugging and kissing Y/N. A twinge of discomfort gnawed at him, but he decided to retreat. Leaving the chaos of the party behind, Baekhyun stumbled back to his dorm, the events of the night replaying in his mind.

After a hasty shower and a violent bout of vomiting, Baekhyun changed into his pajamas. He settled into bed, the room spinning as he drifted into a restless sleep, unaware of the storm that had been set in motion during that fateful night at Oxford.

[acasualcrossfade]

Steddie Week: Day 5

@steddie-week

Prompt: Established Relationship

Words: 487

Eddie knows Steve’s order by heart so he can get him breakfast before his big meeting. Steve always wants a bite of Eddie’s breakfast, too.

--

It’d been a long week for both of them. Eddie had longer and later band practices for the upcoming summer tour, and Steve was working on gathering the mid-year sales reports for a few of the stores he managed. They’d both been up late the night before, Steve poring over his report for the meeting the next day as Eddie strummed and hummed out a new song.

Steve slowly woke up the next morning, he was surprised when Eddie wasn’t in the bed next to him. 

He rubbed his face and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Usually if Eddie wasn’t in the bed, he’d be in the living room biting his pen as he worked on lyrics or chord progressions for a new song. The sight made Steve’s heart flutter, and it was worth losing the extra half hour of sleep to see it in action. 

But when Steve stepped into the living room, he found it empty. He looked around curiously, expecting to find the man to suddenly come out of the bathroom. “Eddie?” he called. 

The house was silent. Odd.

Steve shuffled into the kitchen and smiled as he spotted the note on the table. 

Ungrounded run. Back in 10.

Steve had barely put down the note when he heard Eddie’s van pull into the driveway. Steve watched as Eddie hopped out of his van, only to double back for a drink tray and two small paper bags. He smiled.

“Ah, you were supposed to sleep another half hour,” Eddie laughed as he walked through the door. He kicked off his sneakers and gave Steve a kiss on the forehead. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning to you, early riser. You’re usually the one sleeping in,” Steve smiled. 

Eddie shrugged out of his jacket. “But today’s your meeting so I got you breakfast.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully. “Here’s your iced coffee with brown sugar syrup and milk. And I got you your usual: a ham and cheese croissant.”

Steve was already going through the small paper bag and he gave Eddie a look after peeking into one. “I see we’re trying something new today,” he laughed as he pulled out the iced lemon poppyseed loaf from the bag. “Carol finally put you on to lemon things?” The shop owner was always trying to get Eddie to branch out and try the seasonal flavors.

“She knows I prefer chocolate but she might have thrown it in for free,” Eddie chuckled.

“Well in that case..”  Steve broke off a piece of cake and watched Edide’s face transform into one of sheer offense.

“Okay, but that means I get a bite of yours.”

Steve rolled his eyes playfully and pushed the other bag that held his croissant towards Eddie. “Help yourself.”

[sunflowernyx]

Mulder isn’t used to seeing the boy in winter whites.

It’s what tips him off to the fact he isn’t dreaming, when he opens the door to Farr’s Corner to the beginning of a Virginian winter storm and finds a six year old staring up at him with uncanny blue eyes.

He still closes the door, convinced he’s hallucinating.

That look.

Those eyes.

He’s seen them before, more than fifteen years ago. Curiosity, scepticism and fear sparkling in blue lightning. As if they’re trying to tear him apart and figure out what he is.

The hallucination knocks again.

“I’m cold.”

His voice is high-pitched and boyish, prissy and bossy, exactly like his mother.

And Mulder opens the door again to the impending storm.

“Sorry,” he says, letting William in. “What are you doing out here, kid?”

As the boy passes him on suspiciously dry sneaker-clad feet, Mulder casts his eyes out across the snows. No tracks. No snow on the porch from stomping feet. No trace that he had walked through the snow. Either he’d been out there for a while, or—

“My name isn’t William,” comes that sullen, bossy little voice again. “It’s Jackson Van de Kamp and I teleported here.”

Mulder can’t help it. He laughs. Between the quick correction and the name, it feels like the fates have really and truly thrown his and Scully’s son right back into his life. Of course, he’d been given a new name when he’d been adopted. Of course, he’d been given the perfect name for who he is.

Jackson, son of no one.

His mother’s battle ready spirit in the same language as Mulder’s own family name.

“Of course you did,” he says.

“I mean it!”

He grins and kneels in front of his son.

“Let me see your face,” he says, placing both palms against Jackson’s cold cheeks.

The boy stares defiantly back at him, his blue eyes shooting lightning with fury.

“Don’t worry, kid,” he re-assures him. “I believe you. It’s Scully you have to prove this sort of thing to.”

[thatjayjustice]

Bringing some moon prism power for day two of GDC! At 9:30 am I'm on the panel "Incorporating Black Game Studies in the Classroom: Benefits to Everyone" in West Hall, Room 2014! Then at 2 pm I'm streaming with LogitechG to benefit GirlsWhoCode for Women's History Month!

Image description: A two image collage of a dark skinned black person smiling in both pictures. The first picture is a close up of her holding a sailor moon transformation brooch while wearing a sailor dress with her long black purple and pink braided hair styled into two buns with tails. The second picture has her seated in an electric wheelchair making a peace sign, and wearing the blue sailor dress, brown tights and Sailor Moon high top platform Vans sneakers.

[rainbow-0bsidian]

“Stop the van!” Neil yells, jerking Andrew from his thoughts and reorienting him to the here and now. Which, given the fact that they’re driving at 75mph down a dead straight interstate, is probably a good thing.

He feels like he’s been driving along this stretch of road for days. In reality it’s been less than two hours, but there’s no variation to the landscape, just skeletons of dried out crops stubbornly holding their ground in parched earth bracketing steaming hot asphalt, with nary an end in sight. It feels like an other-worldly treadmill dream.

Andrew pumps the brakes. Verity the hula-girl wobbles on the dash, and the talisman that hangs from the rear-view mirror begins to sway, but the van – the stupid van (Harriet, Neil chides in Andrew’s head) – has the most porridge fucking breaks on the road and eventually, minutes or hours or days later, they swerve a little and roll to a stop.

Neil’s out the door and cursing before Andrew can summon a whatthefuck, but really, he’s known Neil a long time now, and very little surprises him. “Toss me my sneakers, fuck,” Neil curses, head popping back up at the passenger side window. “The road is hotter than fucking hell out here.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow, and complies. The last thing he wants this weekend is to nurse burns and change dressings. Been there, done that.

Curious, he watches Neil’s retreating form in the side mirror for a moment, then unhooks the PSU lanyard from where it’s caught on the edge of the rearview mirror and fingers the odd collection of tokens it holds. Five years after Neil first strung it up with a piece of malachite, a travel rune and the old GS key, the lanyard has faded and the plastic key casing has started to crack, but they’ve taken dozens of trips in this stupid fucking van (Harriet) and like them, she just keeps going, refusing to roll over and die. Andrew closes his eyes against the afternoon sun that glares through the window and waits.

The passenger seat groans when Neil climbs back in, and Andrew’s slow-thawing heart lurches at the sight of him.

Grass seeds stick to Neil’s shorts and sweat beads on his forehead. A smile as wide as the plains they’re driving through, and infinitely more appealing, plasters Neil’s face, transforming every feature, illuminating every freckle, every scar.

“I picked you some wildflowers,” Neil says, thrusting a loose posy towards him, then reaches for his seatbelt and kicks off his shoes.

They’re mostly scratchy and brittle, earthy and sun-dried, but dotted between the course blooms are splashes of bright, soft color; stubborn and resilient, growing against all odds in this dried out landscape.

Without ceremony, Neil adds, “They remind me of us.”

for @annawrites 💛

(you can read the whole series here)

[heibaicnpost]

Sneakers 2.0 A Quantum Leap into the Future of Footwear

In the dynamic realm of fashion, Sneaker aren't just shoes; they're the oil upon which invention, culture, and technology meet. This composition envisions the coming phase in the elaboration of Sneaker, exploring the possibilities of Sneaker2.0 — a futuristic world where Rep Sneaker Website footwear becomes a amount vault into style, sustainability, and unknown functionality.

Biofabrication and Sustainable Luxury

The future of Sneaker embraces fabrication, where slice-edge technologies cultivate sustainable and atrocity-free accouterments. From lab-grown leather druthers to eco-friendly fabrics deduced from fungi, Sneaker2.0 is poised to review luxury with an environmentally conscious morality. These bioengineered accouterments not only minimize the carbon footmark but also open new avenues for avant-garde designs that seamlessly blend style and sustainability.

Responsive Material Morphing

Imagine Sneaker that acclimatize to your replica Sneakers  terrain and conditioning in real-time. Sneaker introduces responsive accouterments that transubstantiate and acclimate their parcels grounded on external factors — temperature, terrain, and indeed the wear and tear's physical condition. This invention ensures optimal comfort, support, and performance, steering in a period where the shoe becomes an extension of the body.

Holographic Design Interfaces

The design process takes a futuristic turn with holographic interfaces that allow consumers to customize their Sneaker in a three-dimensional virtual space. Sneaker suckers can experiment with holographic patterns, colors, and textures, creating bespoke designs before committing to the physical product. This immersive design experience revolutionizes personalization, making each brace of Sneaker a truly unique and individualized artifact.

Cradle-to-Cradle Circular Design

The Sneaker2.0 revolution extends beyond sustainable accouterments to embrace indirect design principles. Manufacturers are developing Sneaker with end-of-life considerations, icing that each element can be fluently disassembled, reclaimed, or upcycled. This cradle-to-cradle Replica Sneaker approach minimizes waste, paving the way for an unrestricted- circle system that aligns with eco-friendly values.

Neuro-Connected Smart Sneaker

The integration of smart technology takes a vault forward with Neuro-Connected Smart Sneaker. These intelligent shoes not only cover physical exertion but also dissect neurological signals to enhance performance and well-being. tailored feedback, stress reduction features, and cognitive performance optimization make Sneaker2.0 a holistic tool for both physical and internal heartiness.

Augmented Reality Virtual Sneaker Drops

In the Sneaker2.0 period, the excitement of limited releases and exclusive drops is elevated through stoked reality( AR). Virtual Sneaker drops bring the retail experience into consumers' homes, allowing them to nearly try on and witness the rearmost releases Snk Sneakers before making a purchase. This immersive approach transforms the act of buying v into a digital event, blending the virtual and physical worlds seamlessly.

Space-Age Accoutrements for Extreme Surroundings

Sneaker2.0 is designed to conquer extreme surroundings, drawing alleviation from space-age accouterments and technologies. From anti-gravity accouterments for enhanced comfort to heat-resistant fabrics for civic explorers, these Sneaker review what's possible in terms of continuity, functionality, and style.

Sneaker 2.0 heralds a new period where footwear goes beyond conventional boundaries. With sustainability at the van, innovative accouterments, responsive technologies, and futuristic design interfaces, these Sneaker come further than just a fashion statement — they are an amount vault into the future of footwear. As we venture into this uncharted home, Sneaker2.0 invites us to revise our relationship with fashion, technology, and the world we walk in. Step by step, the unborn unfolds beneath our bases.

[celuloideycarbono]

I'm trying to watch all the River Phoenix movies. There are good ones and others that are not so good.

Stand by me (Rob Reiner, 1986): River Phoenix's fame was sparked by this film that fit into the ephemeral eighties genre of adventures with children. Every child has a characteristic: the fearful, the craziest, the sensitive, the leader...The Leader, Chris Chambers (River Phoenix), is a combination of rudeness and sensivity. If you see this movie with innocent eyes, it's not bad. In fact, it's a very tender film.

Running on Empty (Sidney Lumet, 1988): Lumet's film is actually a family drama, but with a different approach. The parent's history of anti-war activism is the reason why they are still being prosecuted by the FBI. Their children move with them from city to city. When the oldest son (River Phoenix) falls in love and wants to continue studying music, problems arise. Phoenix's performance is a formidable one, perhaps the best of his short career.

I Love You to Death (Lawrence Kasdan, 1990): This comedy inspired by real events is a bit repetitive and is constructed around some xenophobic ethnic stereotypes. River Phoenix plays a shy and naive hippie, a somewhat cartoonish version of himself. Frankly, it's not a good comedy, but it can be enjoyed as a guilty pleasure.

Dogfight (Nancy Savoca, 1991): Humble and sincere film, which went unnoticed at the time and still has not been properly valued. It's a romantic drama before the Vietnam war, between an arrogant marine (but sensitive) and a young waitress who aspires to become a folk singer. The film starts with a big, broad joke but then transforms into a more intimate work.

My Own Private Idaho (Gus van Sant, 1991): A film with a great visual and sound quality, perhaps the one with the highest artistic value in River Phoenix career. His portrayal of a narcoleptic, fragile and helpless young hustler may have been his most memorable performance. Shakesperean drama in Seattle, Portland, Idaho and Rome, searching a mother's blurry memory. The intimate confession in front of the campfire is the best scene perfomed (and re-written) by River.

Sneakers (Phil Alden Robinson, 1992): I wasn't overly convinced by this spy movie, which had and intense plot but an easy resolution. Great cast, but pretty wasted.

The Thing Called Love (Peter Bogdanovich, 1993): Love triangle in Nashville, the country city, between three young songwriters. Samantha Mathis plays and enthusiastic young woman from New York, who cames to the city chasing her dreams. Instead, River Phoenix plays a darker role: a young composer, arrogant, toxic and narcissistic. His performance is strange. During musical moments, he looks intense, but on all other occasions, his character seems completely exhausted, disgusted with everything. He can't even maintain eye contact. Despite of that, I like the character he creates. The songs are the best part in this flat version of "Jules et Jim".

Dark Blood (George Sluizer, posthumous release in 2012): The film is cursed because River died before filming was finished. The scenes that could not be shoted are narrated by the director. The film has good photography, Antoninian at times, and its plot is simple and intense: a couple of Hollywood actors are trying to save their marriage with a trip through empty North America, when their car stops in the middle of the desert. There they are rescued by the boy (River Phoenix), a young widower who lives in the middle of the desert, sculpting small wood idols, with strange spiritual resonances. River Phoenix's latest role is as a villain for the first time. A character with ambiguous intentions, with passive-aggressive behaviors. Perhaps if it had been finished, this film would be better remembered.

[reviewsclown]

Jumanji 1995

Honestly I was not expecting this movie to hold up so well? It's actually pretty solid. Like the set design especially later in the movie where the house gets overgrown or flooded is Amazing, the characters are all pretty solid, Alan Parrish is a great character, Carl the cop/guy who invented sneakers is really good. Van Pelt especially, what an odd guy that's probably a game construct. all the game players are solid. Really just no complaints about any characters.

Some really good jokes in this movie too none especially come to mind but, compared to some movies having many jokes where none hit. Having some jokes and some hit is massive.

My only real complaint is some of the effects using, computer or physical. The entirely CGI monkeys looked, pretty bad but not bad enough to be awful. the dogman transformation peter undergoes which I think is practical effects is extremely bad to look at, it's just gross.

Final review: This is a solid classic of movies. Everyone should see it at least once probably.

[ashish2345]

The Evolution of Slip-On Shoes: From Classic to Contemporary

Slip-on shoes have undergone a fascinating evolution over the decades, transforming from simple, practical footwear into a versatile fashion statement. This journey from classic designs to contemporary styles highlights not only changes in aesthetics but also shifts in technology, culture, and functionality. Let’s delve into the history and development of slip-on shoes and explore how these beloved footwear items have evolved to meet the demands of modern life.

The Early Beginnings

Slip-on shoes can trace their origins back to ancient civilizations where they were first crafted from materials like leather and fabric. The simplicity of these early designs allowed for ease of wear, making them a practical choice for people across different cultures. For example, in ancient Egypt, slip-on shoes were crafted from woven reeds and leather, providing a straightforward solution for protection and comfort.

The Classic Era

The modern slip-on shoe began to take shape during the 19th century. Early iterations were primarily practical, designed to offer convenience and ease of use. One iconic design from this era is the loafer, which evolved from the Norwegian "Aurland" shoe—a hand-sewn slip-on style with a moccasin-like appearance. This classic design was characterized by its low heel and simple, comfortable fit, embodying the essence of slip-on shoes.

In the early 20th century, slip-on shoes gained popularity among both men and women. The penny loafer, introduced by the G.H. Bass company in 1936, became a staple of American fashion. Its distinctive strap and slot, which was originally intended to hold a penny for emergencies, made it both functional and stylish. This period saw slip-on shoes embraced as a symbol of preppy, collegiate style, further embedding them into mainstream fashion.

Mid-Century Innovations

The mid-20th century brought significant changes to the world of slip-on shoes. The 1950s and 1960s saw the emergence of casual slip-ons, particularly in the realm of youth culture. Brands like Vans popularized the slip-on sneaker, which featured a distinctive checkerboard pattern. This design quickly became associated with skate culture and rebellion, marking a departure from the more formal slip-ons of previous decades.

During the same period, the slip-on moccasin became a popular choice for casual wear. Designers began experimenting with different materials and embellishments, leading to a broader range of slip-on styles. This era was marked by innovation, as designers began to incorporate new materials such as synthetic fabrics and cushioned soles to enhance both comfort and durability.

Contemporary Transformations

As we entered the 21st century, slip-on shoes underwent a significant transformation. The emphasis on comfort and functionality continued to grow, leading to the development of advanced materials and technologies. Today’s slip-on shoes are not just about ease of wear; they also prioritize performance, sustainability, and style.

One notable development is the rise of slip-on athletic shoes. Brands like Skechers and Adidas have introduced slip-on designs featuring advanced cushioning, breathable fabrics, and ergonomic soles. These innovations cater to a wide range of activities, from casual strolls to intense workouts, blending the practicality of slip-on shoes with the demands of modern athletic performance.

Another significant trend is the emphasis on sustainability. With growing awareness of environmental issues, many brands have shifted towards eco-friendly materials and manufacturing processes. Slip-on shoes made from recycled plastics, organic cotton, and other sustainable materials are becoming increasingly popular. This shift reflects a broader societal movement towards responsible consumption and eco-conscious fashion.

Slip-On Shoes in Fashion

The contemporary slip-on shoe has also become a fashion statement in its own right. High-fashion designers have embraced the slip-on style, incorporating it into their collections with luxurious materials and innovative designs. From sleek leather slip-ons to embellished versions with intricate detailing, these shoes have transcended their utilitarian origins to become a symbol of modern sophistication.

In addition to high fashion, slip-on shoes have found their place in everyday street style. They are a go-to choice for people seeking a balance between comfort and fashion. The versatility of slip-on shoes allows them to be paired with various outfits, from casual jeans and t-shirts to more polished ensembles. This adaptability has cemented their place as a staple in contemporary wardrobes.

The Future of Slip-On Shoes

Looking ahead, the evolution of slip-on shoes is likely to continue reflecting broader trends in fashion, technology, and sustainability. As technology advances, we may see even more innovative materials and designs, further enhancing the comfort and functionality of slip-on shoes. Additionally, the emphasis on eco-friendly practices is expected to grow, with more brands focusing on reducing their environmental impact.

In conclusion, slip-on shoes have come a long way from their humble beginnings. Their evolution from classic designs to contemporary styles showcases a rich history of innovation and adaptation. Today, slip-on shoes are not only a practical choice but also a versatile fashion statement that caters to a wide range of preferences and needs. As they continue to evolve, one thing remains certain: slip-on shoes will always hold a special place in the world of footwear.

[poshfind]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vans Classic Slip-On (California Floral) Marshmallow Green Orange W's 8.5 M's 7.

[muyactual]

😮 INVENTOS que vienen del FUTURO en un TOP 12 [VÍDEO]

Hoy os traigo un TOP 12 de inventos que vienen del futuro y que os van a dejar con la boca abierta. Estoy seguro de que os va a encantar y os va a sorprender lo que la tecnología nos puede ofrecer. No os perdáis este vídeo hasta el final, porque os aseguro que os vais a sorprender. A continuación el vídeo con los INVENTOS que vienen del FUTURO en un TOP 12: https://youtu.be/-K-LswXKfKg Te puede interesar: - 🛻 Los VEHÍCULOS Más BRUTALES y EXTREMOS en un TOP 13 - 🏠 TECNOLOGÍAS de CONSTRUCCIÓN que debes VER en un TOP 12 Índice: - 0:00 Introducción - 0:16 El Superdeportivo híbrido Lamborghini Revuelto - 1:35 El Vehículo Volador Bayanat Xturismo Hoverbike - 2:35 Los Aviones de Cirrus Aircraft - 3:52 El Sistema Quirúrgico Robótico Da Vinci Xi Surgical System - 5:12 El Teclado Mecánico Transformable GRABSHELL - 6:17 El Robot Bípedo Agility Robotics Digit - 7:22 El Dispositivo para disuadir Tiburones eSPEAR - 8:39 El Dron PRODRONE PD6B-AW-ARM - 9:44 Las Zapatillas Deportivas The Cryptide Sneaker - 10:56 La Bicicleta Eléctrica Acer ebii - 12:13 El Sistema de Vuelo H-aero - 13:27 Las Barreras Móviles THOMAS Firewater Containment   Read the full article