pinkdoesstuff
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You don’t think much of it when Jack Noir walks in with a suit on instead of her usual outfit. She practically swims in the thing, already a slip of a girl. It does a good job of hiding her figure. The cuffs fall midway down her hand, and the half-untucked shirt seems to go all the way down to her knees.
You wonder where she got the clothes from, if only because you want to torch whoever let Noir walk out in something so atrocious.
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“Your plans never work on their own. I always have to fix things you mess up, Slick!” He could feel his forehead heating up. There was no way this would end well for anyone. That didn't bother him as much as maybe it should have. He had some steam to work off too.
“Guys, Deuce isn't back here.” Boxcars was quiet, still likely suffering from the gunshots, but there was a subdued sort of panic in his voice. A strain that Droog didn't like.
If the way Slick went slack meant anything, their leader didn't like the tone or the news either.
Within a few seconds they started up again, took a sharp U-turn on the street, and headed back to The Felt's hideout.
Slick, for once, was silent. It wouldn't last, but it was a welcome relief from the incessant words he'd been spewing.
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“i’m gonna pull your string. make you say somethin’ funny. catchphraaase. ‘3-2-1, gordon sprint!’”
“Oh, c’mon, I don’t say it that often— Whoa, hey, what?” Gordon’s voice pitches up in surprise.
Something tugs at his back, pulling him flat against Benrey’s palm, and he hears a faint clicking. A string, with Benrey’s finger in the loop. Then he feels his jaw moving against his will, making him recite, “3-2-1, Gordon Sprint!”, before he spits out, “What the fuck was that?”
Bookmarked by pinkdoesstuff
28 Jul 2025
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“I can’t believe you,” Gordon groans. He can’t stop moving. If he does, he’s gonna lose it. “I don’t— this isn’t— I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I sure don’t fucking know what’s wrong with you, and I don’t know how you’re making me do this—”
“boooo. you suck at this. shut up and ask nicely or go fuckin’, uhhh, go out in the alley or somethin’. get everybody laughin’ at gordon freeman’s lil’ schmeat, whippin’ it out in public, real nasty shit, gonna— gonna get public indecency. permanent record.” Benrey steps forward, approaching him.
“Shut up,” Gordon snarls, voice hot with anger and embarrassment.
Bookmarked by pinkdoesstuff
28 Jul 2025