( beau mirchoff, heteroflexible, cis gender + he/him/his ) welcome to the metrocenter, bradley firestone ! they’re a thirty seven (37) year old survivor who has braved the wastes of america to join our little flock. they’ve decided to employ their skills as a scavenger which will help us out tons. from our psych eval we can determine they’re charming, hard-working, and determined, but have also been noted to be lackadaisical, simpleminded, and arrogant. they didn’t have much when they got here, expect for the ring he earned his senior year of high school when he briefly got mistwood national attention by winning the championship game despite their team being the underdogs, his letterman jacket from highschool, and a magazine cutout of michelle pfeiffer that he keeps folded up in his wallet. ( A, 32, he/him/his, EST timezone + no triggers )
GENERAL INFORMATION.
NAME: BRADLEY FIRESTONE.
NICKNAME: BRAD; THE BRADSTER; BLAZE; B-RAD.
JOB: SCAVENGER
HOMETOWN: MISTWOOD, WA.
STATUS: ALIVE, UNINFECTED.
CURRENT RESIDENCE: METROCENTER MALL, MISTWOOD WA; CAMPING OUT IN THIRD BASE SPORTING GOODS.
PERSONAL INFORMATION.
GENDER: CIS MALE.
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: HETEROROMANTIC.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: HETEROFLEXIBLE.
SEXUAL TEMPERAMENT: SWITCH, DOMINANT LEAN.
SEXUAL POSITION: TOP, RARE VERSE.
while bradley doesn't identify as being gay over the years he's grown very comfortable with the "a hole is a hole" mindset as well as the "any hole is a goal". he tends to be a bit insatiable and always horny so being less picky about how he gets off has earned him a bit of a reputation around town for being incredibly easy-- but he doesn't mind; it's hard for people to judge him when they are swallowing his load or their face is covered in it.
as open as he is to being sexual and physical with other men some of that toxicity does rear it's ugly head in him when the conversation of him bottoming is brought up. it doesn't happen often because, in his mind, that's what makes someone gay.
he also doesn't find himself romantically drawn to any man he's been with before so, as of now, he doesn't believe he'd be able to have a romantic relationship with a man... but things can change.
RELATIONSHIPS.
PARENTS: WALTER AND JOANNE MERCER; DECEASED (BEFORE THE OUTBREAK).
SIBLINGS: JACOB MERCER, YOUNGER BROTHER, UNKNOWN.
FRIENDS: EVERYONE IN MISTWOOD according to him anyway.
PARTNER: NONE.
CHILDREN: NONE.
ADDITIONAL NOTES:
Bradley was born and raised in Mistwood and still considers himself to be a local legend-- they still have a breakfast platter named after him at the diner at people still occasionally ask him for autographs.
The outbreak disrupted all of their lives but, for Bradley, it was just another chance for him to be Mistwoods "darling" again; which might just wind up getting him killed.
bradley is a homegrown mistwood local that is a washed up athlete; somewhat of a local celebrity in the sense he was the star quarterback at the local high school about twenty years ago. he was a talented athlete, and even earned mistwood a bit of national attention when he led the football team to win the national divisionary championship title during his senior year-- but what people didn't know was behind that over glorified super star athlete persona was a genuinely horrible student. he had no real passing grades to speak of and only managed to graduate high school because the principal forced his teachers to give him barely passing grades as a way to honor him as their hometown sports legend.
he managed to use that to his advantage for college as well, thinking he was some kind of genius rather than realizing it was only done out of pity when the local community college gave him a full ride. he did his best, again proving to be a talented athlete when he managed to turn their joke of an athletics program into something almost worth recognition. unfortunately, though, bradley tore his right acl and never managed to fully recover from the injury; and their wasn't much he could do with a bum knee/leg.
he barely finished college and because of his injury rather than going pro like it had been his dream to do, he got hired on as a coach for his old high schools football team. the moms loved having him around; even if he had become a bit of a drunk.
to most of the locals he was still treated like a local celebrity, which he definitely let go to his head… and then the outbreak hit. despite having a bum knee he's proven to not be completely useless and has been helping around the mall since they first fortified it and turned it into a safe haven as a scavenger in hopes that, one day, he can earn his place as mistwood's favorite again; or maybe even earn himself some sort of nationwide adoration and recognition.
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Will preened when the other complimented even if it was just a slight one. His own vanity wouldn't let him not revel in it. Will smiled back as he looked at the ring and then back up at Wyatt. "Yeah lots of hard work, Long sweaty nights where you worked till your body was aching and you were so exhausted you could barely move huh?" he said a little laugh at his slight suggestion. "I would love to try it on some time."
"I would love that. My bunk is the first store front after the stairs to the left. Just come on in." Will winked at Wyatt and headed off to his bunk, going to his bunk he tidied up, grabbing the bottles from his stash, an almost full bottle of lemon flavored vodka. Had to love a college town lots of booze if you looked for it.
Then unable to help himself he began to check himself out in the mirror, if he was going to entertain he wanted to look good, and Wyatt was handsome so why not? He took a comb to that thick dark hair he was so proud of, dabbing on cologne on his neck, unbuttoning the top of his shirt.
Pouring a generous pour of vodka into the cups. "Come on in Mayor Mercer."
"People think I'm crazy but those are some of my favorite kind of nights dude." Bradley nodded his head, smiling as he reached over and grabbed at Will's right bicep; giving it a decent squeeze as he licked his lips and whistled again in approval. "--seriously man, these python's are impressive. I can tell you put in the work. We'll have to work out sometime together." Okay, pulling his hand away again, he was back to keeping his hands to himself. For now. "You have to earn the ring bud but we might be able to work something out, like a bet or something; you just have to give it back." He agreed, loosely, with a laugh.
Nodding, again, and smiling after Will told him how to find him, Bradley hurried off back to Third Base Sporting Goods to grab what was left of the cherry juice that he had managed to salvage and keep with him-- and, because he was in his bunk and not any other reason at all whatsoever, he took the time to also dig through his things and find one of his old jersey's-- because of course he kept most of those, considering them essentials, when he had to leave his home. Pulling on the jersey, not even worried about how it was a size or two too small, he then sprayed himself with some of the cologne he had left-- though it wasn't much-- so he wouldn't smell like a wild animal.
Again. He did all that for no reason at all.
With the cherry juice in hand, two bottles to be exact, he made his way to the store Will said he was bunking in. Waltzing in, with a beaming smile, he held out the cherry juice and nodded as he looked around at the younger's set up. "Sick spot man, you almost wouldn't think we were squatters or whatever it's called." Laughing, he looked Will over again and for a second he thought something was different but after staring, for a second, at the exposed bit of chest from where his top button was undone, Bradley decided he was overthinking and didn't comment on it.
"Thanks again for sharing your stash. Most of the guys here normally demand some kind of trade which is not much of a community vibe, you know? Either way, bro, I appreciate it. I feel like I owe you one."
"No, dude, I'm not ignoring you. I'm totally listening. Absolutely. Zombie erections do sound weird, or whatever," Obviously Bradley wasn't listening. Clamoring to his feet as he saw Kennedy walk by-- across the Metro Center's courtyard-- the man hurriedly nodded to the person he had been talking to in an attempt to end the conversation without being an entire asshole. "No, yeah, I totally care but-- dude-- I have got to run, I forgot I had something, uh, other than this conversation to do so I will... catch you later? Yeah. I will catch you later. You rock, Bradster out."
--and just like that he walked away from them.
Jogging after Kennedy because the man had walked further away from him, Bradley winced a bit under his breath as his knee protested to the sudden and unnecessary strain by shooting a pang of pain through his leg as he finally caught up the man; to one of their counsel members.
"Kennedy, my man. K-Dawg; the K-ster; Ken; Kenny," pouring on what he considered to be charm, Bradley reached out to clap both hands onto the other man's shoulders; gripping onto him and giving him a playful shake as he pulled him back so Bradley could step forward at the same time and get next to him. "How have you been man? Have I told you how fucking awesome you are this week-- because you are. Fucking awesome. You should know that man if you don't. You're basically a rock star, you definitely look like one right now. Have- have you been working out?"
He probably shouldn't have been that excited, he was roughly ten years the other's senior, but when Scruffy invited him to come hang out Bradley couldn't help but feel like he was a teenager again; like he was getting ready to go hang with one of his boys. Even before the outbreak, he'd been struggling a bit with where he felt he belonged and connecting with the people around him-- it was like everyone was moving on and just... forgetting him-- but that self doubt was easy to ignore and forget now; at least, for the moment, while he was riding this high.
Usually the younger guys camping out here were snarky with him or said things that didn't make sense, like Tucker, so this was a nice change of pace; this was exciting.
Digging through his things, ultimately deciding to grab one of the tank-top's with a number on it that had been left behind in Third Base Sporting Goods-- and just happened to be a size too small-- he threw on a bit of cologne before grabbing one of the last packs of beer he had left in his personal stash.
Making his way to Discboom, where Scruffy told him to meet, he knocked against the frame around the door-- to be polite-- before stepping into the storefront. "Look, man, I don't know if you drink beer but it just felt right, you know? Can't have a game night with a bro without some brewskis." He explained as he set the case of beer down so he could use his hands, his mannerisms a bit over animated due to his excitement, as he walked into the space and smiled over at the other. "I think Gio said you had something called Nutbusters or ComeBlaster to play and, bro, honestly I don't know what those are-- they sound a little weird, but I am not. about. to. complain. So what are you waiting for, dude? Whip out that joystick of yours! The Bradster wants to play!"
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"Oh yeah? Do I?" Will smiled a bit at that and flexed a bit, he was in great shape, being a boyscout, a football player. Generally all american. Other than the fact that he bent his coach over a bench sometimes after practice. And his scout master. But that was just a few times. A week. He looked at the ring and was genuinely impressed. It wasn't like it took no skill to win something like that. "Fuck that's cool man. Beautiful ring."
"Come on it's in my bunk." Resourceful as always he had taken one of the more run down store fronts, even in his guilt he had decided to do his best to make it livable. Taking stuff he had brought with him and scrap he found around nobody wanted. He didn't even know what kind of store the place had been before really. "Let's grab something to mix though. Uh- coke ok? Or are you a pepsi guy?" he would have liked some juice really but that seemed a bit more unobtainable and there was coke at the party.
"Yeah," Bradley answered back with a smile. "You do. You're not as big as I am but," he pursed his lips, even going as far as letting out a soft whistle as Will flexed a bit and lazily showed off his physique, "--you look really good dude." Still smiling, his grin so wide it took up most of his face, he kept his hand held up between them for a moment longer as the other complimented his ring. "Thanks dude, I worked really hard for it. Most people just think it's nice bling and don't understand how hard it is to earn. I might let you wear it sometime," he teased with a wink. "If you're lucky." It wasn't much but that offer alone was proof that, in his own way, Bradley was already fond of him.
"Lead the way dude," clapping his hand on Will's shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze, he then finally let it fall back to rest at his side before moving away from the game. He could rack up another score later. "I don't really drink a lot of soda, gatorade has been my go-to for awhile, but we can just use coke since they have that here? Wait," another flicker of thought dawned in his eyes, "I have a few bottles of cherry juice left that I brought with me. If you want I can go grab one and just meet you at your bunk."
Oh and all of a sudden they weren't playing the game at all anymore. This man was telling him about who he was and how he was Jesus? Will wasn't very religious but he definitely didn't think someone should call themselves that. "Oh that is really cool. Our football team was shit when I was in high school but I played a little. I was like runner up kicker. Like I said we were shit. Did they give you a ring or anything?"
"Um so you're like mayor of the mall or something? That is cool I met you right out the gate. Wyatt, you uh- you want to grab something ro drink? I have a few bottles I nabbed on the way here and we can use mixers to stretch them further if you want. My treat. For THE Wyatt Mercer." Will actually thought he other seemed a bit too...young at heart, to be in charge of anything really but maybe he was wrong? You never knew. And he was new after all.
There was definitely no point in worrying about the game now, especially after Will asked him about a ring. "I thought you played. You have that look about you bro," throwing the rifle back into it's holder, he turned his attention fully on Will; holding out his right hand, palm facing himself, to flash the unnecessarily large high school championship ring he wore on his right ring finger; a hint to the way he acted as if he were still in high school; to the way he clung onto his glory days, the only time he was ever actually happy, rather than maturing and growing up to face reality. "You bet your sweet ass they did! I've worn it every day since I earned it, this baby is basically my good luck charm." It worked well enough at getting him into bed with the local moms anyway.
"The--" he paused, his brows furrowing as Will's comment brought out a flicker of light in the man's eyes. "The Mayor of the Mall has a killer ring to it dude." It was only a flicker. "I'll have to talk to someone about that but, no, I don't have any kind of title or anything like that here. They didn't want to put that much pressure on me, even though I could easily lead. They, uh," he almost faltered but, thankfully, it was more of a hiccup; after one breath he was right back to keeping his head shoved up his own ass. "--are letting me relax since I've already done so much. I'm always down to drink though." Especially if it was someone else's treat. "Where's your stash at?"
Will looked and raised a brow, looking the man up and down. Clearly he was handsome, though maybe he had been more handsome in the past than he was now. Though that wasn't something Will would say out loud. The show boating was a bit obnoxious but beggars couldn't be choosers. He was new and should play along. "Nice high score er- dude."
Will picked up the toy gun and hefted it in his hands. Looking over it. With a nod he cocked the gun and joined the fray. He was more than capable of keeping up. He had decent hand eye coordination. "So uh Wyatt. You a local hero or something? Sorry I'm from further to the east. So not really sure who anyone is. My friends and I were looking for some civilization and yeah." he took a few shots, making sure to give Wyatt adequate cover fire.
Simply nodding along at the compliment, Bradley turned back to face the game as Will stepped up and got into position; grabbing the second rifle and holding it with the confidence of someone that not only knew how to play the game but didn't feel the need to gloat about it; a stark contrast to Bradley.
He was playing with ease, hitting every mark and easily racking up his score, only to falter, missing an easy shot, when Will broke the silence and asked him a follow up question.
"Am I a local hero or something? You don't know who I am?" Bradley responded, dropping his rifle a bit to the point that he was no longer playing as he turned to face the younger man again.
"You are in for a treat bro. I am Mistwood's one and only Blaze; THE Bradster; B-Rad; -- the Bradley Firestone. I'm like Mistwood's jesus," no, he wasn't. "I didn't just win us the state title, I took us all the way and won the national championship in football," in 1979. Now he was just a washed up has-been. "I'm practically royalty around here." Again, no he wasn't; his arrogance just went to show how out of touch with reality he really was.
Will had been in a slump since he had gotten there, depressed and guilty for surviving. He and his friends had made it so far. Gotten so close to all being here together only for it too all go to shit at the last moment. So close to the goal. It was only when he finally saw himself in a mirror that he had began to snap out of his. His own vanity making him go an exercise, see the sun and bathe. Honestly a shower did sort of snap him out of it and he decided to wander. Into the festivities. The merriment. The mood of it all made him feel a bit more at ease. Less tense. Less guilty.
Will raked a hand back through is dark hair, making sure it looked perfect. Or as perfect as it could given the circumstances. Approaching the other with a smile. Blue eyes wide to show them off. "Would you maybe be looking for a partner in that game? I used to play back home before you know. All this. I'm Will."
Cupping his right hand underneath the rifle, he stroked it back and forth as if he were giving himself a hand job before faking an orgasm; his hips shuddering as he shook the weapon as if it were his own. "Hell yeah!"
Bradley had been called plenty of things in his life. A legend; an idiot; a hometown hero; a washed up drunk; a heartthrob; the mom's favorite-- the point is, Bradley had been called plenty of things in his life.
Mature was never one of them.
"Smart call little dude," he laughed, adjusting his grip around the game's controller before turning to face the younger man approaching him. "You wouldn't be able to handle me if you tried to take me on." Bradley joked. "I'm Brad-- or Bradley-- but you probably already knew that." He put on his best smile and gave the other a quick wink; clearly forgetting that not everyone here was a local, and ignoring the fact that Will was probably too young to really know who he was. His mom probably knew him though if they were from the area.
"Jump on in bro." He added on with a nod to the other rifle holstered for a second player, "Try and keep up."
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⁰⁰¹ . five nights at petey possum's || EVENT STARTER
open to all
Quick to be easygoing, falling for the distraction of the party at Petey Possum's without any real resistance, Bradley spent a majority of his night downing whatever beer he could get his hands on and countless pieces of the most likely staled pizza. He was having a good time despite the current state of things.
His seemingly infallible good mood carried over as he turned his attention to the arcade games. Holding onto the bright neon plastic rifle attached to CarnEvil, he started to dance as he finished another game with a high score; the games scoreboard featuring his initials on the top five ranked name spaces.
"That's what I thought, still got that Mercer Magic baby," he called out, loud and crass, as he dropped the rifle to hold it against his groin; thrusting his hips forward as he treated the weapon as if it were an extension of himself. "You wanna take on a monster you can suck on this one," he laughed, too lost in his gaudy celebratory dance to realize he was being watched. "I'm fucking untouchable!"
M/M Smut Gif Starters: Part 3 - The Electric Bootyloo
wanted to make another smut gif starter meme with some new spicy gifs! would've added more and formatted it better, but tumblr (in its infinite wisdom) has some weird character block limit that prevented the formatting to add any more gifs.
anywho, you know the drill. send a number to the inbox, specify a muse, and a starter will be made based on the gif. take a peek, use a random number generator, do whatever you like and have fun! :3
note: if there are any links that aren't working anymore or there are duplicates, just let me know and i'll update them accordingly
" your form's all fucked up, " ben says as he manhandles the other man's body, adjusting him so he's holding the rifle the right way. in his current position, a single shot would leave him flying—if the scope didn't take his eye out first. sure, they all have their own roles and jobs within the metrocenter, but there's no harm in learning to shoot and defend yourself given the circumstances, right?
with a sigh, ben moves even closer, close enough that their bodies are almost flush, as he positions the rifle's stock against the other's shoulder and gives it a pat. " keep the stock there and make sure your shoulder's firm, because that shit is gonna kick. can you do that? "
"No it's not, this is just a wonky ass gun." Bradley argued much like a bratty teenager would as he looked up at the other man with furrowed brows. "Hey!" Despite his protesting, he didn't put up much of a fight as Ben began grabbing at him and manhandling him so that he was positioned properly and holding the gun in a way that wouldn't lead to getting hurt; or worse, getting embarrassed and landing on his ass.
"Bro, would you relax?" the washed up athlete groaned as he tightened his grip around the rifle; the stock digging into his shoulder a bit as he felt Ben up against his back. "I have the highest score right now on CarnEvil, I think I know what I'm doing."
Of everyone in the Metrocenter, Bradley was probably the last one that needed to have his hands on a gun.
