#Cheap Thrills Digest

[michaelbaileywriter]

Station Identification Time

Who Am I? I’m a writer originally from Falmouth, MA who now lives in Oxford, MA with my awesome wife Veronica, two dogs, and four cats who don’t like to let us sleep in. After 15 years with the Falmouth Enterprise, where I worked as a general and political reporter, blogger, and editor, I left the news industry to focus on my creative writing. In addition to my novels (more on that in a…

[rad-roche]

Pulp Covers And How To Paint Them

With the rise of cheap printing in the early twentieth century, mass-marked paperbacks swept the world, each offering lurid thrills for obscenely low prices. Sex, sadism, and incredible violence for as little as ten cents. An easy purchase to slot in between fifty cigarettes a day and enough bourbon slugs to kill a small garden.

Pulp fiction is where some of the greats of American literature cut their teeth, including the big three, Raymond Chandler, Ross MacDonald and Dashiell Hammett. The contents of these stories, both the dizzyingly good and astoundingly terrible, have been absorbed and digested and remixed and regurgitated in nearly every permutation imaginable, fuelling pop culture some one hundred years on. This isn't an essay on that. Nobody likes to open a tutorial and be greeted with a wall of text. The history is for another time.

But it is about how to paint it.

Don't let the pre-amble intimidate you, it's not as hard as it sounds. You will need:

Painting software with some image editing capabilities. You don't need all the bells and whistles of Photoshop, but I wouldn't recommend something like MSPaint, at least not to start with. I'm using Clip Studio Paint.

A really beat-up paper texture. The grungier, the better.

A lightly-textured brush. Here are the specific brushes I use, 99% of which is the well-named rough brush. Try and avoid anything with any impasto elements.

Go to your colour-picking tool and use the 'select from layer' option. Doing all the painting on a single layer is going to make your life easier.

A complete willingness to make mistakes and, instead of erasing, painting over them. It generates much more colour variation and interest! Keep your finger off the E key.

Good reference! That painting is a master copy of Mitchel Hooks' art for Day of the Ram. Find a style you really love and want to learn? Have no clue where to begin? Do direct studies!

Let's not worry about whatever is happening in the background. It's probably fine. Let's get started! Pulp magazine art is a lot more varied than you might first think, so don't agonize over having a style that 'fits' or not. I'm also specifically aiming for something you'd see on the cover after printing, not the initial painting they would use for printing. The stuff I'll show here is a pretty narrow band of it, but here are some general commonalities. This is a painting by Tom Lovell.

Let's dig into this.

The colours are very bright and saturated, but the actual values, the relative lightness and darkness of them, are actually grouped very simply! You can check this by filling a layer full of black, putting it on top and setting its mode to colour. If the value of a painting looks good, you actually get a lot of leeway with colour. But here's what I think is the most important thing to keep in mind.

The darks aren't that dark, and the lights aren't all that light! Covers are paintings reproduced on cheap paper. Anything you wouldn't want to happen in the printing process, you lean into. Value wash-outs, lower contrast, colours getting a weird wash to them, really gritty texturing. So let's get painting! Here's my typical setup.

That bottom folder is the painting itself. The screen layer is the grungy paper texture. To get the effect you want, put it down, invert its colour, then set it to screen. That washes out your painting far, far too much, so to compensate, I put a contrast layer up on top. Fiddle around with the settings, but this is where mine ended up sitting.

Note I'm saying this before even starting the painting: you want to do this as early as possible. This is where the 'select from layer' colour picker comes in handy. You can paint without worrying about the screen or contrast layer. Something not looking right? Enable your value check layer and keep painting. When you turn it off, it'll still be in colour. Here's a timelapse so you can see what that looks like.

And when you check the values...

They're pretty simple! This isn't a be all and end all, but I hope it serves as a decent primer. I want thirty dames on my desk by Monday!

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Hey so, I don't think we've interacted before because I can never think of what to say while I digest the stuff I read in your posts, but I just want to say your scans and posts of historical and vintage stuff have been such an incredible resource to me. I'm not in the US/UK/anywhere I can get access to a lot of physical materials like this, so all this stuff that simply wouldn't exist online otherwise is just a godsend.

I find it really hard to find specifically lesbian stuff a lot of the time, but even when I don't relate to some of that older stuff or even find it totally at odds, it's just a tonic to find stuff that's meant for my frequency, that I just can't anywhere else. It's really useful, challenging, and kind of thrilling just to be able to tap into this stuff.

Thanks for all of it and happy Pride.

I’m so so so happy I’m able to provide that for you. Genuinely all I wanted was to make aspects our history more accessible to people because these things aren’t always cheap and I feel like everyone deserves to be able to see parts of themselves.

Thank you so much for sending me this it genuinely means so much to me. I’m going to try hard to upload even more stuff for you guys ♥️♥️♥️

I know I whinge and whine a lot on here but I genuinely get so much emotional fulfilment being able to just help a few more people have access to this stuff.

Sending you lots of love. And a happy pride to you too ♥️♥️♥️

[xtruss]

Folks! It’s A New Bullshit On The Market: People Are Claiming That This $38 Yogurt Is Making Them 'Hotter' Than Ever. Is Coconut Cult Yogurt Worth The Hefty Price Tag?

— By Amelia Schwartz | March 2, 2025

Photo: Food & Wine 🍷/The Coconut 🥥 Cult

At Food & Wine, we don’t condone cults — unless, of course, that cult is centered around a yogurt that promotes gut health. To be fair, Coconut Cult yogurt isn’t actually a cult (as far as we know), but it does have a cult following on social media.

Search “Coconut Cult” on TikTok and expect your feed to be flooded with taste tests and product reviews. Some say it’s the best, creamiest yogurt they’ve ever tasted, while others feel that it's too tart. But most of the reviews are less focused on flavor and more focused on how the yogurt makes them feel, reporting that eating Coconut Cult yogurt daily can help with digestion, reduce bloating, and clear skin. “I’ve never looked hotter,” said Kelly Peer (@kellyannpeer) after having one spoonful of Coconut Cult’s chocolate mousse flavor for seven days.

There are many kind of videos you’ll find are about the exclusivity of Coconut Cult — how fast it sells out in grocery stores, and the absolute thrill of finding them fully stocked. And at approximately $10 per 8-ounce jar (the brand’s website, thecoconutcult.com, sells 16-ounce jars for $39 a pop), the yogurt doesn’t come cheap.

Some creators are even sending suggestions of alternative probiotic yogurts, like Activia, Cocoyo, kefir, and White Mountain Bulgarian probiotic yogurt. Not to mention the dozens of other TikTok-favorite sources for probiotics, like Culture Pop soda and Lemme Debloat from Kourtney Kardashian’s supplement line. So then, is Coconut Cult really worth the hype?

Here’s everything you need to know about the premium yogurt brand that content creators are swearing by.

What Is Coconut Cult?

The Coconut Cult was founded in 2015 by Noah Simon-Waddell. “I created this yogurt as a part of my healing journey,” he said in a 2022 TikTok video. “As a way to heal myself and my gut, which was really sick.” Simon-Waddell began making probiotic yogurt at home, and found that his recipe made him feel significantly better. In an open letter on Coconut Cult’s website, he wrote, “I felt more energized, clear-headed, creative, inspired, and truly connected to my body for the first time in a long time, if maybe ever.”

But while Simon-Waddell claims that eating a daily dose of his yogurt can improve your general mental and physical health, he doesn’t want his product to be lumped into toxic diet culture. In fact, the name, “Coconut Cult” was inspired by a real cult of “cocoivores” — individuals who only eat coconuts. The group followed German philosopher and nudist August Engelhardt, and lived in the South Pacific, until their coconut-only diet led to extreme health issues and in some cases, death. According to The Chalkboard, the brand name is supposed to send consumers a tongue-in-cheek reminder of the dangers of fad dieting.

Therapy Is Great, But Have You Also Tried Making Yogurt?

The dairy-free, coconut yogurt is packed with probiotics, “a microorganism that has been linked to health benefits when consumed in adequate amounts,” says Toby Amidor, MS, RD, CDN, award-winning nutrition expert, and bestselling author of Health Shots. Every 1-ounce spoonful of Coconut Cult has roughly 50 billion CFUs (colony-forming units). With three standard flavors (Original, Chocolate Mousse, and Harvest Strawberry) and limited, seasonal releases, Coconut Cult yogurt is meant to be delicious, but it’s designed to act as a daily supplement. Coconut Cult’s website claims “this isn’t a meal, it’s a ritual.”

How Is Coconut Cult Different From Other Yogurts?

When Simon-Waddell was developing his yogurt recipe, he learned that most yogurts are, what he considers, “dead.” They’re pasteurized after fermentation in order to remain shelf-stable, which kills the probiotics. “Instead, we created a fermented coconut yogurt that acts as the perfect home for probiotics,” a member from The Coconut Cult team told Food & Wine. “We never pasteurize after fermentation to ensure our probiotics are thriving in order to do their best work.”

Because Coconut Cult yogurt is “alive” the flavor is tangier and the consistency creamier. It’ll have a kombucha-like effervescence and it might even explode when you open the jar. “An explosion does not mean your yogurt is bad. On the contrary,” Simon-Waddell explained in a TikTok. “It means the yogurt is extra probiotic and extra powerful. During the fermentation process, the yogurt’s bacteria will consume its sugar and produce oxygen. If you open a jar of Coconut Cult and hear a hissing noise, that oxygen is trying to escape from the surface, often leading to a yogurt eruption.

There are many other probiotic yogurts on the market, but to our knowledge, Coconut Cult is the most probiotic-dense. In comparison, Cocoyo has approximately 25 billion CFUs per ounce, White Mountain Bulgarian has 11 billion CFUs per ounce, and Activia has less than 1 billion CFUs per ounce. You can still get the same gut-health benefits from eating other probiotic yogurts, you’d just have to eat more of it

What's The Best Way To Eat Coconut Cult Yogurt?

According to Amidor, there is no standard for the amount of probiotics that should be consumed daily. “How much needed varies with different types of probiotics and what the treatment is,” she says. “Most doses range from one to 10 billion CFUs that are taken one to two times a day in supplement form.” It's important to note, though, that taking a lot of probiotics could potentially lead to some gastrointestinal discomfort, “such as gas, bloating, or diarrhea.”

That means you might not want to eat a whole jar of Coconut Cult. If you’re new to probiotics, the Coconut Cult team recommends starting out with one to two spoonfuls of its yogurt a day. “Each serving contains 16 strains of billions of super-live probiotic culture, so a little can go a long way, but we want you to trust your gut,” they told us. “If you feel you need a little less, dial your serving down a bit. If you’re sick or your gut needs a little extra TLC, go for more. It’s your body, and you know best.”

The Coconut Cult team suggests eating the yogurt first thing in the morning or as a late-night snack. They also urge consumers not to stir or double dip, as your saliva can kill the yogurt’s microorganisms. Some creators say you shouldn’t use a metal spoon, but that instruction has not been verified by Coconut Cult.

Is Coconut Cult actually Any Good?

I’ve only gotten a chance to taste Coconut Cult’s chocolate mousse flavor, but I can report — it's really tasty. The rich, dark cacao flavor balances out the yogurt’s signature tang, and it’s delightfully fluffy. I’ve found myself looking forward to eating my morning heaping spoonful (and a bit disappointed I can’t go back for another scoop).

Have I noticed immediate results (i.e. a lack of inflammation, flawless skin, and impeccable hotness)? No. But I’ve only been “taking” the yogurt for four days now. There’s still time! The price would probably steer me away from purchasing Coconut Cult regularly, but if my gut needs a little reset, or if I want a little treat, I’d certainly buy it again.

Conclusion:

If you have tons of money then buy this “USLESS CRAP 💩” to feel good then buy it. It’s all marketing by the scammers. Don’t make them rich. My best advice is: Just buy a regular yogurt and you will be fine.

[noitstaylor]

taylor couldn’t tell what set her ablaze more—zayn’s rough hands, clawing at her like she was some cheap doll he could fling around, or the vile, dripping sludge of words that oozed from his mouth, each syllable a wet slap against her flushed skin. either way, her fingers had burrowed into her pussy, scrubbing it raw with a ferocity that pulsed like a second heartbeat. she’d been sprawled across the carpet, its once-lush pile now a sodden wreck, clumped with sweat and pre-cum streaks, a defiled shadow of the chic luxury that might’ve starred in some architectural digest photoshoot. her arse—tight, perky, utterly shameless—thrust upward, knees gouged into the fibers, hands clawing the floor like one of her cats mid-hunt. but her focus wasn’t on herself—it was him. his cock pounded into her, a brutal rhythm, the wet smack of flesh on flesh ringing in her ears, each thrust a shockwave that rippled through her spine. she’d wanted to trap that sound forever, freeze it in a glass vial, crack it open later to let it sear her memory.

her lips had split open, a jagged “fuck, daddy” tumbling out, his name swallowed by the fog of her unraveling mind. sweat pearled on her brow, sliding down her temples in hot, salty trails, stinging her eyes as her voice broke into a needy whimper. “your nasty little girl’s gonna come so fucking hard, i swear it.” she’d felt it ignite the instant his cum surged into her arse, thick and scalding, a torrent bursting free like a dam collapsing. it flooded her, coating her insides, trickling down her thighs in sloppy, white ribbons, pooling beneath her on the carpet like she was some insatiable trough desperate to be brimmed. his hands had stayed locked around her throat, fingers biting into her skin just enough to choke her breath, her pulse hammering against his grip. one of her hands had risen, shaky and slick, grazing his knuckles, their fingers knotting together in a damp, frantic twist. she’d hungered for this—his brutality, the way he marked her with names like “slut” and “baby,” a perverse brew of shame and sugar that drenched her soul. she’d have clawed her own identity away to bathe in it.

“god, you’ve got no clue how fucking ravenous i am,” she’d growled, hips still rolling, grinding, chasing every last bead of him. “i want your cum splattered all over me, every filthy drop, till i’m soaked in you.” her voice had rasped, low and guttural, thick with lust, and she’d nearly cracked when his fingers slithered down her body, deliberate and slow, mapping the sweat-slick curve of her waist, the dip of her hips. they’d hit her pussy, swollen and sopping, and started rubbing—fiercer, rougher than she’d ever dared herself. the friction scorched, a live wire sparking, her clit pulsing under his touch, and her head had tipped back, swaying drunkenly with his rhythm. but she’d resisted, jaw clenched, refusing to break, not yet. with a clumsy shove, she’d batted his hand away, wrenching herself free from his cock, the slick, sucking sound of their split loud and obscene. she’d twisted around, knees scraping the carpet raw, and locked eyes with him—a slow, wicked smirk curling her lips as she devoured his image. he’d been primal, eyes black with possession, sweat glistening on his skin, chest rising and falling like he’d claimed every shred of her. it made her ache deep.

her mouth had crashed into his neck, lips greedy, sucking at the salty heat, tasting the rapid thud of his pulse beneath her tongue. her hand had darted down, seizing his cock, still slick and throbbing from her arse. her thumb had teased the tip, languid and taunting, a smug thrill blooming in her chest as more pre-cum oozed out, glazing her fingers in a glossy sheen. she’d eased back just enough, tugging his cock with her, nestling it tight between her breasts. they’d jiggled as she moved, soft and heavy, bouncing around him, the friction slippery and searing from their shared mess. her nipples, hard and sensitive, grazed his shaft with every thrust, sparks shooting through her as his heat sank into her skin, marking her there, too.

the carpet had chafed her knees, leaving them red and stinging, but she hadn’t given a damn. her breath came in jagged gasps, the air thick with the stench of sex—sweat, musk, a raw edge she couldn’t name. her fingers had snaked back to her pussy, sliding through the drenched chaos, circling her clit with a manic urgency. the tension had coiled tighter, a spring teetering on the edge, her arse still buzzing from his cum, her breasts weighted with him. every nerve had screamed, alive and frayed, as she rocked harder, his cock gliding between her tits, her thumb digging into her clit. her vision had hazed, the room smudging at the edges, tilting as her body seized control. she’d smelled him—salt, musk, the sharp bite of cum—mingling with the damp heat radiating off her skin, shoving her closer to the brink.

her thighs had quaked, muscles locking, a guttural moan tearing from her throat, wild and unmoored. “fuck, baby, i’m your greedy little cum-whore,” she’d spat, the words raw and filthy, spilling out as her hips jerked. “stuff me till i’m dripping, please.” she hadn’t cared how pathetic she sounded, how ruined—her world had shrunk to the slick heat of his cock, the throb of her clit, the phantom sting of his hands on her arse. her fingers had sped up, sloppy and erratic, slipping in her own juices, and then it slammed into her—brutal, blinding, a tidal wave roaring through. her pussy had clenched, spasming, a hot rush of her release soaking her hand, splattering the carpet. her body had convulsed, shudders ripping through her, breasts bouncing wildly around his cock as she rode the crest, every muscle taut, every breath a ragged sob. 

cum—his, hers—smeared her thighs, her chest, a lewd tapestry she’d flaunt like a trophy. she’d slumped forward, panting, wrecked, aftershocks twitching through her limbs, her skin humming with his echo. she’d inched closer to him on the carpet, her hand drifting up to his bare chest, fingers splaying over the damp heat, feeling the faint thrum of his heartbeat under her palm. her head had nestled against his neck, the stubble there prickling her cheek, his scent—salt and musk and something faintly smoky—filling her lungs. her feet had twined with his, toes curling against the tops of his, legs stretching out in a lazy, tangled sprawl. her free hand had found his cock again, fingers wrapping around it, still warm and slick, tracing the veins, the softening heft of it. “you’re fucking gorgeous,” she’d murmured, a soft, unguarded truth slipping out amid the wreckage they’d made. “could fuck you round after round till we’re both drained dry.” she’d laughed then, a low, husky ripple, her fingers still restless, stroking him slow and deliberate, coaxing out the last stubborn beads of cum, mirroring how she’d wrung every drop from herself.

the air had hung heavy, thick with their mingled stink—sweat, sex, the faint tang of their fluids drying on her skin. her thighs had stuck together, cum and her own release crusting in the creases, a tacky reminder she’d savored. her knees had throbbed, carpet burns pulsing with a dull heat, but it only made her grin wider, a badge of their chaos. she’d shifted slightly, her breasts brushing his arm, nipples still tender, sending a faint shiver through her. her tongue had darted out, licking the salt from her lips, tasting the aftermath, and she’d sighed, long and deep, her body sinking into the carpet’s damp embrace. every muscle had felt loose, liquid, like she’d melted into the mess they’d left behind. her hand had lingered on his cock, thumb circling the tip one last time, milking a final, weak dribble, and she’d hummed, content, already imagining the next round—how she’d beg for it, how she’d let him ruin her all over again.

zayn's lips curled into a wicked smirk against her neck as he felt her nails dig into his scalp, the sharp sting only serving to fuel his desire.He could feel the pulse of her heartbeat beneath his teeth, the rapid flutter betraying her excitement.His hands continued their relentless assault on her breasts, plucking and pinching her nipples until they were stiff peaks, aching and sensitive. her own hands were no less merciless, kneading and squeezing his flesh with a desperate hunger. he reveled in the feeling, in the knowledge that he was the one driving her to this frenzied state of arousal. he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he took in the sight of her flushed face and heaving chest. "you like that, don't you?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. "you like being marked, being claimed." his eyes darkened with lust as he watched taylor's fingers disappear between her legs, her breath coming in ragged gasps. the sight of her touching herself, coating her fingers in her own arousal, was almost too much to bear. he leaned down, his tongue tracing the path of her hand, swirling around her swollen clit before plunging deep into her soaked folds. he lapped at her hungrily, his tongue delving into her, tasting her sweetness. he could feel her hips bucking against his face, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him in place as he devoured her. her words, thick and gravelly with desire, only served to fuel his hunger. "fuck, you taste incredible," he murmured against her skin, his voice vibrating through her core. "like the sweetest sin i've ever tasted."

his fingers pumped into her relentlessly, his palm grinding against her clit with each thrust. he could feel her walls clamping down around him, her body trembling with the force of her impending orgasm. her words, raw and desperate, sent a surge of possessive pride through him. he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "that's right, baby. no one else gets to see you like this. no one else gets to hear those beautiful moans, to feel your tight little cunt squeezing their fingers." his other hand snaked up to wrap around her throat, applying gentle pressure as he continued to fuck her with his fingers. "you're mine, taylor. every inch of you belongs to me." he could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingertips, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. he knew she was close, her body tensing and shuddering with each thrust of his hand. zayn's grip tightened around her throat, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he felt her pulse racing beneath his touch. he could see the defiance in her eyes, the challenge, and it only served to fuel his desire to dominate her completely. he pumped his fingers harder, faster, his thumb pressing down on her clit with brutal intensity. "that's right, baby," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "you're going to give me everything. your body, your pleasure, your fucking soul." his other hand slid down to her breast, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh, his fingers pinching and twisting her nipple until she cried out. he could feel her body tensing, her muscles tightening as she approached the edge of orgasm. but he didn't let up. instead, he increased his pace, fucking her with his fingers mercilessly, determined to push her over the precipice and into oblivion.

zayn's hands strained against taylor's grip, his fingers twitching with the urge to grab her hips, to slam her down onto his cock with brutal force. but he resisted, letting her set the pace, watching in awe as she rode him with wild abandon. her breasts bounced hypnotically in his face, glistening with the sweat and saliva from his earlier attentions. he leaned forward, his tongue darting out to catch a bead of sweat as it rolled down her cleavage. he lapped at her skin, savoring the salty taste, before sucking one of her nipples into his mouth. his hips bucked involuntarily, driving his cock deeper into her as he groaned around her flesh. "fuck, taylor," he muttered against her skin, his voice muffled. "you taste like heaven." his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he fought the urge to take control. his hand came down on taylor's ass again, harder this time, leaving a bright red handprint on her skin. he could see the way her body responded, the way she trembled and moaned. he groaned as he felt taylor's tight hole resist him, her muscles clenching around the head of his cock. he pushed harder, his hips surging forward, slowly but insistently. he could feel her body struggling to accommodate him, her muscles trembling with the effort. but he didn't stop. he couldn't stop. he needed to be inside her, to claim her in every possible way. he leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, his lips brushing against her ear. "relax, baby," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "let me in." his hand slid around her hip, his fingers finding her clit and circling it slowly, distracting her from the burn of his penetration. he felt her start to relax, her body slowly yielding to his intrusion. he pushed again, and this time, he slid in deeper, his cock sinking into her tight heat inch by inch.

zayn's hips snapped forward, his cock driving into taylor's ass with brutal force. he could feel her fingers working frantically at her clit, her body tensing and shuddering beneath him. her moans filled the room, loud and desperate, spurring him on. he gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pounded into her, his balls slapping against her with each thrust. he leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, his lips brushing against her ear. "that's it, baby," he growled, his voice hoarse with exertion and pleasure. "fuck yourself on my cock. make yourself come." his hand snaked up to wrap around her throat, applying gentle pressure as he felt his own orgasm building. he knew he wouldn't last much longer, not with the way her tight hole was gripping him, not with the way she was writhing and moaning beneath him. zayn's grip tightened around taylor's throat as he felt her walls clench around him, her body tensing with impending orgasm. he pounded into her relentlessly, his hips a blur of motion as he chased his own release. he could feel the pressure building in his balls, the heat spreading through his abdomen. his fingers dug into her hip, his nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on her skin as he slammed into her one last time, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he came. hot, thick ropes of cum filled her ass, coating her insides with his seed. he groaned loudly, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

his hips jerked with each spurt of his release, his cock twitching and pulsing inside taylor's tight hole. his breath came in short, sharp gasps, his chest heaving against her back as he struggled to catch his breath. but even as the waves of pleasure subsided, he couldn't stop himself from thrusting into her, his movements becoming slower and more deliberate as he savored the feeling of her clenching around him. he growled at her words, his grip on her throat tightening slightly. "greedy little slut," he murmured, his voice rough and satisfied. "you want more, huh? want me to fuck you until you can't even remember your own name?" his hand slid down from her throat to her breast, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh, his fingers pinching and twisting her nipple until she cried out. zayn's hips snapped forward, his still-hard cock driving into taylor's ass with renewed vigor. he could feel her body trembling beneath him, her muscles tensing and releasing as she teetered on the brink of orgasm. he leaned over her, his lips brushing against her ear. "come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice low and dominant. "come all over my cock like the desperate little slut you are." his hand slid down from her breast to her pussy, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in tight, fast circles. he could feel her walls fluttering around him, her body tensing as she approached the point of no return. he thrust harder, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own pleasure once again.

[dongofthewolf]

Hello! May I request a number 8 or number 11? She/her pronouns are preferred :) thx!!

I Despise That I Adore You

Abby Anderson X Reader

Prompt: 8. Hands brushing unexpectedly 11. Secret relationship

Warnings: swearing, fluff

Link to the prompt list here

A/N: I kind of decided last minute to write like 1.5k more words for this fic because uhhhh idk but I hope you enjoy (especially if you requested it) !!

A/N: I also didn’t realize you only requested one of the two prompts so I accidentally wrote both LOL but thanks for the request(s) !!

You have always had a very dichotomous view on life; you believed that you either liked a person, or you didn’t. It was a simple notion and a digestible one at that, but never did you think that a touch—a single accidental touch from someone you most definitely didn’t like, could wreck your world this way. 

You were at a briefing for an upcoming mission. It was a long, drawn out process that you dreaded, but what made it even worse was Abby. Okay, maybe not Abby specifically, but the fact that she could sit there at six in the morning and look so effortlessly beautiful, annoyed you more than you could say. Her outfit was the same as it almost always was; a simple grey tank top with green cargo pants and boots. Nothing extraordinary or outstanding, but you still couldn’t help but find it annoyingly attractive when she crossed her fucking enormous arms over her chest like that. God, she wasn’t even trying and you were losing it.

You didn’t like Abby—you couldn’t like her. How could you possibly like her when every single sign told you not to? She was stubborn and closed off, always shielding herself from the world with some serious facade you knew was bullshit. Maybe Abby did flirt with you occasionally and perhaps you did participate in it sometimes, but that all meant nothing. And anyways, even if you did like Abby (which you obviously didn’t) it would hurt you too much when she inevitably left you for someone prettier or cooler or smarter, and you didn’t need that right now.

Abby was all types of wrong and you knew that, which is why you were so utterly puzzled by this small, electric touch. It wasn’t even longer than a second, but as soon as it happened your heart felt like it had just been squeezed like a fucking lemon.

The briefing was finally over and you were quick to leave so you could actually get some sustenance for your body, and then it happened. You hadn’t even noticed that Abby was there when you dashed out the small exit of the military tent until you felt the smallest brush of her hand against yours. You paused to look back at Abby and she was looking at you too, and you swear it would’ve taken a damn machete to cut through the tension between those few, fleeting seconds of stillness. 

Your hand burned from where it had grazed Abby’s and you clenched your fingers into a fist to try and relieve yourself from the sensation. Promptly shoving your hand behind your back to hide it from Abby’s inquisitive gaze, you slowly backed away with your eyes still fixed to hers. And though there was a great amount of distance between the two of you, you noticed something in her stare. You weren’t sure if it was just your brain being stupid or manipulative, but you could’ve sworn you saw the slightest hint of endearment in Abby’s eyes. 

You tried to back away quicker but nearly fell over because of a stray root in the ground that you definitely weren’t looking at, and you could see Abby snort as she tried to hold back her laughter. Smiling nervously, you turned around and bolted towards the cafeteria. It was way too early for this.

Hoping to find some solace in a burrito, you practically ran to the cafeteria, but before you could even smell that lovely tortilla blanket, someone caught you. Abby was breathing slightly heavier than usual when she pulled you aside, practically trapping you against the wall behind you.

“Why are you running from me?” 

Abby’s arm was leaning on the wall next to your head and it took every ounce of willpower not to stare at her massive biceps. “I’m not running from you.”

“Um, I think the fact that I literally just sprinted after you, says something slightly different.” Abby used her other hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “So are we going to talk about it, or are you just going to run again?” 

You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Talk about what?”

Abby gestured her hands awkwardly between the two of you. “Us—this. Whatever this is.”

“Abby, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, but even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to grab some food now.” You ducked under Abby’s arm and began walking away but her next words stopped you in your tracks.

“I don’t understand you, I really don’t.” Abby was pacing now, her hands moving wildly as she spoke. “It’s like… sometimes you’re cold and distant and running away from me, and I just kind of accept it. I mean, even though it’s not like I’ve ever done anything to make you hate me this much, it obviously won’t help my situation if I continue to flirt with you. But then the next day I’ll catch you looking at me in that way and-”

“In what way?” You interrupted.

“Seriously?” Abby cocked her eyebrow, her mouth curled into an annoyed smirk as she rolled her eyes. “You look at me like you’re not sure whether you want to pounce me or punch me in the face.” 

She said it so plainly that you were speechless for a second, was it seriously that obvious? There was so much going through your head right now, but the one thing that stuck with you was the fact that you agreed with her. Though it’s not like you could ever admit it, so instead you opted for some good ol’ denial. “I do not.”

Abby was quick to respond, like she had anticipated your answer. “You do, and you know what? I honestly have no problem with it. In fact, I encourage it! I mean if you weren’t so confusing, I’d have asked you out by now. You’re gorgeous and smart and a major badass on the field, but I just have no idea what you want from me.”

The last sentence threw you for a loop and before you knew it, your heart was doing the squeezing thing again. Did she truly think you were all those things? 

Thinking about it, perhaps your problem wasn’t that you hated Abby. After all, it’s not like the reasons you disliked her were of any merit anyways. In fact, you kind of admired Abby when she wasn’t being a cocky bastard, but that still didn’t mean you could date her. Sure, she was kind of hot, and maybe you found her just the slightest bit charming, but you couldn’t possibly put yourself on the spot like that. Not only was she all types of wrong, Abby was also your superior, and Lord knows the scandal that dating her would transpire. 

Finally finding some semblance of composure, you spoke hesitantly. “Abby you’re my superior and if people found out I- we just can’t, okay? I’m sorry.” You internally cringed at your words. It was such a stupid excuse but you still couldn’t help but fear the backlash you would receive for this. 

Abby took a second to think before speaking. “Can I ask you a question?” 

You didn’t say anything, just nodded your head slightly.

“Do you like me?” Abby’s eyes were sort of wide and almost hopeful, and you felt a slight tinge of remorse because you weren’t sure you could give her an answer. It was a simple question, but something inside you just couldn’t manage to form a proper response. 

“Whether I like you or not doesn’t matter Abby, we can’t be together. I’ve worked so hard to get here and I’m not going to be belittled or ridiculed because I can’t keep my emotions in check.” 

“So what you’re saying is… there are emotions to keep in check?” There was a hint of mischief in her tone and a smile on her face. You don’t think you’ve ever groaned so loudly.

“I did not say that.”

“It was implied.”

Abby chuckled to herself, taking a step towards you with every punctuated word. “Okay, let’s say that hypothetically you do have feelings for me, and that hypothetically I could make sure no one knew we were dating. Would you go out with me then?

You scoffed as you took a step towards her, your bodies now just inches from each other. “Oh yeah? And hypothetically, how would you do that?” 

“It's simple, we date in secret.” Abby said it so nonchalantly that you thought she was joking. It took a few moments of awkward silence before you realized that she was serious.

“You’re kidding? That would never work.”

“Um first of all, I’m always serious, and second of all, did you forget that we are literally trained to be stealthy? I think if we can handle clickers, we can handle a secret relationship. Honestly Y/N, it seems like the only problem here is that you’re scared of going out with me because…” Abby took another step towards you, backing you against the wall with her arms crossed in front of her chest. “you’re afraid you’ll fall for me.”

You were utterly speechless. You wanted so badly to respond with a snarky comeback or a cheap insult, but as much as you hated to admit it, you were totally afraid of going out with her. Commitment is horrifying and complicated and you’ve gone your whole life trying to avoid it. But now? Abby was offering you a simple solution and before your mind could begin to consider the downsides to this, you answered.

“Fine. But if we get caught, it’s on you.”

And just like that, your secret relationship with Abby began. 

--

It only took the first two dates for you to warm up to Abby—though you were incredibly apprehensive about all of it at first—it wasn't long before she had successfully charmed her way to your heart. And though you’d never admit it out loud, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t having at least a little bit of fun. It was thrilling running around with Abby like this; late-night dates, stolen looks during briefings, clandestine touches while passing each other in the halls, the way she seemed to be just a little bit more protective of you during patrols. You revelled in the way she held you when no one was around, when it was just the two of you. 

It had almost been two months, and hiding a secret relationship with Abby was getting surprisingly more difficult. You figured it was likely a product of the fact that after your first kiss, Abby couldn’t seem to keep her hands off of you. It seemed as though someone was somehow lurking around every corner of this damn stadium, and the amount of times Abby had to sneak out of your room in the morning before your roommate woke up was honestly getting kind of absurd. 

However, one major upside that’s come out of this deal is that you no longer despised briefings. In fact—now that you and Abby had this strange arrangement—you almost looked forward to mission briefings. The fondness for them was partly because you got to stare at Abby with adoration rather than anger, but mostly it was because you got to tease her like there was no tomorrow during them.

It was another early briefing and Isaac was droning on about�� patrols? Or maybe it was borders, you weren’t really sure. Instead of focusing on his dull rambles, your mind was wandering elsewhere. 

Abby was sitting in the seat next to you, her legs spread out while she leaned her toned forearms on the table in front of her. Keeping your eyes focused on Isaac, you brushed your knee against Abby’s just slightly before letting your hand slowly creep closer to her leg. Abby immediately knew what you were doing, quickly turning her attention towards you with a small tilt of her head. And though your eyes were fixed on the man in front of you, you knew she had a cautious look on her face. 

A small smirk crept onto your lips as you let your hands make their way higher and higher till it was resting on her thigh. Letting it linger there, you traced little circles with your fingers, noting the way Abby covered her face with her hand to hide her expression before you gave her leg the smallest squeeze. Abby jumped in her seat and the whole room immediately turned their attention to her. Trying to hide her obvious freak-out Abby cleared her throat before asking some stupid question about intercepting the target while you did your best not to laugh next to her. When she finally finished rambling and the focus was off of her, Abby snuck you the smallest look, the kind of look that said “I’m totally going to get you for that later”. 

At the end of the briefing, you noticed Abby making conversation with Manny near the exit of the military tent and an idea popped into your head. You made sure to look straight ahead as you nonchalantly walked out the exit before letting your hand brush up against Abby’s while you passed by. It still shocked you sometimes; somehow after nearly two months of hiding your relationship, her touch still managed to send you soaring. The familiar burn against your fingertips from your not-so-accidental accidental touch still lingering on your hand like an imprint—her imprint. 

You looked back at her with a mischievous smirk on her face and she rolled her eyes before whispering something to Manny. Walking away knowingly, you were unsurprised when she cornered you behind a cement pillar with her hands on your hips and her mouth hungrily on yours. Abby spoke with her mouth still against yours, refusing to break the kiss.

“You know, for someone who was so adamant about having a secret relationship, you sure seem to enjoy attracting attention to us.”

You smiled into the kiss, your fingers moving to play with the end of her braid before giving it the smallest tug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Abby groaned and you chuckled at her expression when you pulled away from her lips, causing Abby to nearly face-plant into the pillar behind you. You giggled, smiling at Abby teasingly before feigning an annoyed tone as you turned away from her with your arms crossed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to grab some food now.” 

[whatever-the-mess]

Mainstream Femdom Imagery - Part 1

It's everywhere! Billboards, magazine ads, music videos... it might often be overlooked but it's surprising how much femdom imagery is used in certain industries. While it does seem to feature most prominently in products or media that's specifically targeting women (fashion shoots, perfume ads, etc) it can also appear in anything that might - *gasp* - have a female creator running things.

Today i'm going to be looking at one area that I know the most about, and that is

Music!

Depending on your age your mind might immediately go to one or two artists in particular if you're thinking about kink in mainstream music. For me, that person was

Madonna

The video to Human Nature in particular really stood out back in the 90s. There really hadn't been anything like it in the mainstream before and I think it was the first time that I really saw someone being so open about their sexuality and kinks in that way. Even in live performances Madonna has always pushed things a little bit (the Britney and Christina kiss was a bit cynical maybe) but it's still very easy to find images of her wielding a whip, looking menacing in an eyepatch, or dragging a dancer around by a leash.

Even the Spice Girls were at it in their live shows. The image of the four of them (post Geri leaving) with dancers crawling around on leashes definitely made a lot of sub-minded teenagers happy.

Live shows in particular really do seem happy to embrace all sorts of fetish imagery, not just those that are femdom themed. You'll always see the latest pop stars dressed in PVC or latex bondage inspired outfits, with straps and buckles everywhere. That might say more about how women are sexualised in the industry but it's interesting to see those who take it a little bit further when they have more control over how things are run.

And there are so, so, so many examples in hip hop! Rihanna literally having a track called S&M obviously featured a few whips and leashes with a few guys to play with, and she's always wearing something that wouldn't look amiss in a fetish mag. Not to mention Megan Thee Stallion or Nicki Minaj, although to be nitpicky they're wearing fetish inspired outfits rather than featuring outright femdom themes. But hey, they get to promote their sexuality in a way that they're happy with and I think proves we've moved on at least some way since the outrage that Madonna caused all those years ago.

Reactions

It does seem strange that there are numerous examples of men being dominated in some way in music videos and live shows despite how frowned upon it still seems amongst friends and family. Maybe it's easier for people to digest if they think it's just for entertainment purposes, and not a lifestyle choice? Seen as a cheap thrill that can be an excuse to check out a cute guy, or just to laugh at.

One recent event that still caused a LOT of outrage was Sophia Urista peeing all over a fan live on stage during a Brass Against live show.

That does go quite a bit further than having a dancer semi-naked on a leash, but it's interesting that it got as much attention and press that it did. This is an entirely different rabbit hole to go down though. Maybe it was wrong to do something so extreme for an audience that wasn't expecting it - but it's interesting to think about what is and isn't acceptable. They were both consenting adults, and yet she really seemed to be villainised even by her fellow band members.

There were so many more examples from music videos that I was going to upload, but unfortunately I couldn't fit them all into one post. However there are quite a lot of naked men dancing around in the background of certain music videos if you know where to look.

[michaelbaileywriter]

Station Identification Time

Who Am I? I’m a writer originally from Falmouth, MA who now lives in Oxford, MA with my awesome wife Veronica and four cats who don’t like to let us sleep in. After 15 years with the Falmouth Enterprise, where I worked as a general and political reporter, blogger, and editor, I left the news industry to focus on my creative writing. In addition to my novels (more on that in a minute) I’m a…

[fantastic-nonsense]

Hi, sorry same person who asked where you got your Batman info. I should have been more clear. What I meant was where do you get your comics? Do you buy them at a brick and mortar store, or a place online? I’m asking because you have singlehanded gotten me invested in Batman, and I have no idea where to find comic books.

Ohhhhh okay, it's all clear to me now! Sorry for misunderstanding, lmao.

First of all, welcome to the fandom, and I am both thrilled and distraught that I've dragged you into this nonsense: good luck, honestly, and I'm happy to help answer any questions you might have as you start learning and reading more.

Second, some helpful terminology and discussion before I actually answer your question, since you're (probably???) new to reading comics altogether:

Superhero comics are traditionally written in what's known as runs; an author gets to have an extended period on an ongoing (or limited) title where they (traditionally) write in 4-8 issue story arcs; think of these arcs as chapters in a potentially never-ending book. These individual issues are colloquially known as floppies. Every so often, titles end, the principal author on the titles switch up, or they'll have "guest/interim authors" come in to do single issues or a single story arc.

These story arcs are then collected in what are known as 'trade paperbacks' (generally referred to as trades, occasionally TPBs), which collects the entire story arc in a single paperback/hardback book. Trades are super useful if you want to read an entire story at one time, want to be economical about your comics spending, and/or want to read things in order. Occasionally, if a writer has a particularly long run on a title or a big company event happens, you get published omnibuses that collect an entire event or run (or part of it, if the event is big enough).

So when I talk about "Tom Taylor's run" on the Nightwing title, for example, I'm talking about the current writer, who's been the main author on the Nightwing title since March and just finished his first story arc ('Leaping into the Light', which starts at Nightwing #78 and just concluded last Tuesday with Nightwing #83).

A pull list is a list of comic books that, traditionally, are set aside each week for you at your local comic book store. It's basically like having a subscription/membership to a particular comic book.

Obviously, traditionally this is a very literal 'pull list' that the shop employees literally pull from the shelves for you, but it's become a more unofficial term in recent years as people buy more and more digital comics. For a lot of people, when they refer to their pull list they really just mean "these are the comics I'm actively reading and consciously keeping up with right now" (my current literal pull list is Nightwing, Batman: Urban Legends, and Wonder Girl, but I keep up with a few others-Robin and Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, for example-via occasional buys, social media, and online reading; mostly, I'm waiting for trades to come out).

So that being said, when I buy comics, I get them from a variety of places:

I do, in fact, have a local brick & mortar comic book store that I get floppies and trades from; I don't usually buy floppies, but when I do, I normally get it from them. LCS's are unfortunately dwindling in number, but if you have one in your area, I highly recommend supporting them!

There's also this huge used bookstore run out of an old warehouse where I used to live (and where my parents still live, so I still get to visit it occasionally) that has a large comics/graphic novel section; I've gotten quite a few of my comics for dirt cheap from them.

Amazon and Ebay are super convenient and awesome places to buy trades; I've bought the majority of the comics I own via this route, tbh.

If you're more into digital comics (space issues, you prefer reading digitally, etc), I get mine from Comixology.

And if you’re dirt poor and can’t afford anything, getcomics.info is a safe site where you can download comics for free.

You can also read them for free (without downloading) at https://readcomiconline.li/, otherwise known as ReadComicOnline. When I do meta or post screenshots, I'm usually grabbing panels from RCO (mostly for convenience's sake).......needless to say, a lot of people read their comics using RCO, lmao.

Like I said, welcome, and let me know if you'd like a few digestable, reader-friendly comics to get started with!

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Crow: Wicked Prayer (2005)

Let’s thank our Father in Heaven for the end of the Crow series. The Crow: Wicked Prayer is so awful even the most hardcore fanatics would dismiss it as heresy. Its only redeeming value is a smidge of originality - not to be confused for quality.

When a gang of Satanists murders James “Jimmy” Cuervo (Edward Furlong) and his girlfriend Lily (Emmanuelle Chriqui), he’s granted a chance at revenge by the Crow spirit. When Jimmy discovers his murder was part of a ritual to summon Satan/The Anti-Christ to Earth, the human race depends on this young man enacting his supernatural vengeance.

On the DVD cover of The Crow 3: Salvation, a quote exclaims “The best of the ‘Crow’ sequels!” this dubious statement is a warning. The third picture in the series is about as far away from 'good' as I am from walking on water. Despite knowing that this picture had no chance of being digestible under any definition, I was not properly prepared for Wicked Prayer.

There are so many things wrong with this movie. To begin, this Crow has no presence. He’s not intimidating or charismatic, no amount of flashbacks showing us him and his girlfriend together can squeeze any amount of sympathy or interest from his plight. You’re too busy laughing at the ridiculous makeup, applied via Sharpie (I’m not kidding). It's a cheap movie that was halfheartedly cobbled together. The continuity is horrendous, with numerous scenes alternating between Jimmy having white makeup on his face, and others with nothing but the black lines on his forehead and cheeks. Yikes.

At least this time around the Crow has to fight someone other than a bunch of generic thugs. Not only are they ex-convicts, they’re Satanists who name themselves after the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. “Pestilence” (Yuji Okumoto), “Famine” (Tito Ortiz), and “War” (Marcus Chong) are led by “Death” (David Boreanaz) and his fiancé... Lola (Tara Reid). They’re as thrilling as a pair of dirty socks, even during the climax when Death becomes inhabited by the spirit of Satan/transformed into the Antichrist. The film seems to believe the two terms are interchangeable, or maybe no one bothered to proofread it. They certainly didn't care enough to give Dennis Hopper any good lines. Honestly, why bother when you're making a direct-to-DVD picture in a franchise that hasn’t been good since 1994.

In addition to making every mistake its predecessors have made, this film pioneers new kinds of blunders, courtesy of the loony doomsday plot. This is the kind of infernal sentence that should be unintentionally hilarious. Instead, it’s a chore to watch. The DVD I viewed did not offer subtitle options, meaning I had to listen carefully while everyone else around me wailed like the tormented spirits found in Dante’s Second Circle of Hell. At least Danny Trejo got paid for his small part. What am I getting out of it?

If you’re a fan of the series, just watch the first one again. I’ve seen all of them and in order of best to worst, it goes The Crow, The Crow 3: Salvation, The Crow 2: City of Angels and finally Crow 4: Wicked Prayer. Huh. I guess that quote on the DVD cover was right. That doesn't mean anything. I can’t think of any reason to recommend The Crow 4: Wicked Prayer to anyone. Even if you’re a fan of the actors, all they do is embarrass themselves. I bet they're praying every night they could forget about this movie. I sure do. (On DVD, September 30, 2016)

[willpowers]

I know its 2021 and I havent written for death note since 2007 but like, ive been up all night so here meronia fandom, no more lurking in the reblogs lol

Rated T for swearing and like, implied possibility of nsfw?

Drabble 1

With the soft click of his door, Near let out a soft sigh.

Kira was unmasked and defeated, he had won.

No.

They had won.

His hand instantly went to his neck, almost on instinct by now, and held the cheaply made beads and wooden red cross he hid under his shirt.

Near had never been religious, and he knew these beads were just symbolic, the first one he could buy at midnight on that night, when grief kept him up and walking through the unexplored city, needing something tangible. So he could deny.

Denial was normal.

This... Was normal.

He winced slightly as the cheap wood splintered a bit, poking his pale finger. He let go of the effigy and held his still clenched hand at his side.

What would he do now?

Logically, he knew. He was L.

“Nate River” died with the man named Lawliet. Died with the thunderous slamming of the orphanage door that a 14 year old boy should not have been able to make.

L.

“Near” was dead now too.

Died with that man. Light Yagami.

So L he was.

A predictable future for a perfect boy whose only flaw was not worshipping a strange adult who came to visit. His apathy, which before gave him freedom, was the final bar in this jail cell of a title.

Did he enjoy being a detective? Probably, in some way. The battle against Kira thrilled him.

No, it wasn’t the one against Kira that kept his attention.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the puppets. He let them all fall to the ground. One by one, their tiny rubber bodies bounced a bit. There was L, first dead. Near never cared for him much. Took him five minutes to throw together something of a resemblance.

There was Kira. Honestly he was thinking about the hamburgler for this one. Petty killer with petty burger thief. Fitting.

Then Misa... Mikami... The others. Names he couldnt wait to just file away in some police report and forget about.

Then himself.

The white puppet, which he didn’t put too much energy into, but still made look a bit like him. He was simple. Monochromatic and bored.

Then him. He picked up the blonde puppet carefully, remembering how it took all night to get it right. He painted every detail he remembered from their one meeting at the headquarters. From every hidden camera quick shot of the man who was as bright as he was loud.

He couldn’t bear to even think his name.

Near picked up the puppet of him, putting them in their usual spots on his index and middle fingers. He would enjoy the thought of being on Nears middle finger. He was vulgar enough to.

He stared at them, and stood up. They needed a better home. The puppets didn’t have to be thrown away, like the real counterparts. Near opened his best toy chest, one he put his favorite toys into, and laid the two puppets, side by side. He put the blonde puppet slightly higher than the white one. A little victory. One the real man couldn’t claim by his side.

Near closed the toy chest, then looked back around his room. His toys were scattered, dice piled high, and cards strewn about.

The sight disgusted him.

It looked so... Normal.

He kicked over the dice, letting the clatter as they fall echo through the silent room. Kneeling down, he picked up the finished puzzles and dumped them out, one after the other. Their perfect completion being ruined by the destruction, and wet by the falling tears the boy didn’t even know he was capable to make.

Near knelt in the middle of his mess and grit his teeth, letting more of those rare droplets fall, tainting all his toys.

Why did such a win feel like such a loss? Like it had no meaning? He always did what was told. Kept quiet, did well on tests, become a detective. Catch Kira. Save the day. Save the world.

But he didn’t care at all. He had only loved one thing in his life, and in the process of fulfilling his duty... Their duty... He lost him.

Taking in a shaky breath, Near picked up the toys and pieces of puzzle and dice and cards and put them in his bigger chest. He took his time. He usually had the others do this for him, but he hated the person who was reliant on everyone to do everything. That man fucked up. He was foolish. He could die along with the rest of the casualties.

At one point, he heard his door open. He mentally chastised himself for forgetting to lock it.

“I thought I requested the night alone.” He said sternly, trying to not let his emotions show.

However, he got no response, only footsteps closer.

Footsteps with a heavy walk that none of his associates used.

Footsteps that should be six feet under.

Hallucination wasn’t one of the stages of grief. And it wasn’t on his agenda. He bit his lip, not sure what to think about. He didnt want to turn around. If he was wrong about who it was...

So he put more toys away. Methodically putting away robot after robot.

Soon another hand joined him. Taking a stuffed sheep and tossing it on the bed.

Only one person would know that goes there.

He reached for another toy. But hesitated. His mind was racing, trying to put together the puzzle. Figure out what was real. What was a lie.

A charred, bandaged hand grabbed the toy and put it away.

“Are you going to ignore me forever, or just until your toys are away.”

Near’s breath hitched a bit, the voice was deeper, damaged, but unmistakable.

He finally looked behind him, eyes a bit wider than usual, but still doing his best not to show his emotions. He had to have some cards left in his hand, for whatever game this was.

He looked like shit.

His hair was uneven and singed, his scar had gotten deeper and he could tell from the bandages he got more scars in new places. If he was here, he had to have survived a gasoline based truck fire.

He had to have survived the Death Note.

The man smirked.

“Sorry to interrupt your pity party, but it just so happened a kidnapped girl under immense pressure couldn’t accurately write a slavic name.”

Near stood up, walking over and gently touching his scar. He felt the other recoil, but he couldn’t care less.

He pressed harder, and earned a wince. He felt the warmth, a bit of blood from the wound staining his pale white fingers.

Blood.

Fresh blood.

He was alive.

“Mihael.” He said, under his breath, only able to be heard by the man before him.

He stepped closer. He pressed a hand on his chest, felt his heartbeat. He closed his eyes and counted... Steady, not in danger. Warm, quickening?

Near closed his fist a bit, gripping the leather under his palm. His fingernails would leave marks. But he could mark him. He was here to mark.

“Mihael...” He said, slightly louder. A reminder to himself.

Mihael snorted. “What, did you just remember it?” He said, a bit of a flush on his pale face. He could flush. He was blushing.

Near gripped his collar roughly, pulling him down and pressing his still lips to the others. It was awkward and obviously full of inexperience.

He felt the other snort, and could imagine him rolling his eyes. Probably savoring that he was going to obviously beat him at this. Near could care less.

The blonde held his face and tilted it into a proper kiss.

Ah.

This was actually a lot better.

Near kept the contact, using the new angle to press further against him, closing his eyes now, like he figured he was supposed to do. He was out of his depth here. There was no swell of orchestra or butterflies in his digestive system... But it was enough.

He pulled back, looking at him proper now. They were still holding each other, Near by his face and Mihael by his collar.

“Youre not better than me. For kissing me first.” He said, an uncomfortable look on his beet red face.

“I never claimed to be.” Was his response. “About anything. That was you.”

Mihael glared. “Stop it. Stop saying that. Not... now.” He looked down. It seemed Near wasn’t the only one feeling a lost sense of something.

Near looked at him and pulled back, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards the bed.

“Prove youre better then. Unless you accept defeat..” He said, a coy grin creeping onto his face.

Mello went with him, smiling.

Nothing was solved, pieces weren’t clicked together in a perfect fit, the world didn’t suddenly make sense, and neither of them had a plan. However, they had a start.

And it looked promising.

[doberbutts]

One of the things I've just always done with my dogs is give them a wind-down object before bed to get the last of their energy out. Creed's varies but is usually between a bone or whatever sucky snuggle toy he's gunna cuddle with that night. Fae usually has a toy she's picked out of the chihuahua-size pile, which she enjoys flinging and pouncing for a solid hour before collapsing against me to sleep for the next 10 hours.

Sushi, though, has been a hard one. She doesn't *want* to wind down and doesn't *want* to be in her crate and doesn't *want* to be entertained, she just wants to complain that my room is hot and she's the only dog in a box and thus life is not fair.

Until she discovered that I have Creed's forbidden fruit: hooves. Creed is not allowed to have hooves because he's figured out the trick to crunching them in half and swallowing the halves whole and thus shitting out entire 4in long pieces of hoof rather than digesting them- but Sushi and Fae can have them because they do not do that (yet) and thus a cheap long-lasting chew it is. And Sushi is absolutely thrilled over this discovery, because it means she gets to have a very high value chew in her crate with her.

And now I can finally have a quiet wind down before bed, instead of the wail from a puppy who does not agree with my crate sleeping plans.

[bitemealiienboy]

Doing It For A Thrill (pt 2) | Dhawan!Master x Reader

A couple of you have asked for a part two of this. Thank you so much for the response of part one and the requests for more. Part one can be found here if you haven't read that yet. Hopefully the request for a dark past fits in well and doesn’t seem out of place. Anyway, enjoy. 

Outline: Months after meeting Y/N at the bank the master decides to apologise for what he did (in his own strange way) by breaking her out of prison. But Y/N is looking for some answers. 

Word Count: 2091

Warnings: Language, the gif is not mine

As you lie in your prison cell at night you would replay the events of that day in the bank as you struggled to sleep. You remembered watching the Master leave, the police yelling at you to get down, and then you being found guilty of attempted robbery. You were a couple months into a six year sentence, every day felt long and dragged out into an eternity. The only thing that would put you to sleep at night was the thought of seeing the man who called himself Master again and giving him a taste of his own medicine. 

But the Master wasn’t the only thing that plagued your dreams. Images of an incident that happened long, long ago, would also wreak havoc on your mind. You tried to forget, you tried so hard to forget your past mistake but it followed you everywhere you went. Some unknown part of you was forcing you to remember. After some time, your body eventually gave into sleep, you were too exhausted to fight it anymore.

You awoke in your prison cell to the sound of alarms. “This can’t be good,” you muttered to yourself, having a short flashback to the bank. You shook it off and sat up in your bed, looking through the bars of your cell. There was only darkness.

The lights flashed on and you could now hear the sound of the guards panicking. This wasn’t planned, you thought of getting up out of your bed. You put your cheap shoes on and carefully listened to the conversations of the prisoners and guards around you. No one knew what was going on. You walked towards the bars of your cell to get a better look. That’s when you heard a broken voice. 

“When the gates open, run.”

The small voice was coming from inside your head, you looked around confused. You felt your body tense up, you quickly became more aware of your surroundings ready to fight. 

“Run towards the exit and I’ll meet you there.” 

The voice was much louder this time, as if the person was speaking right next to you. You began to worry and only managed to let out a small, “what?” in response. 

“I don’t have time to explain, just do as I say.”

“And who are you exactly—” you tried to question but you stopped mid-sentence. The door to your cell was now open, but not just your cell, the doors to every cell in the prison. You poked your head round the door. 

“Run!” 

The voice spoke again, and so you did. You ran as fast as your legs would let you not daring to look back. The voice was directing as you ran through the prison, telling you when and where to turn. You managed to avoid being caught by any guards as they were all occupied in a mass fight between many of the other prisoners.

“Just down this corridor and you'll see me.”

“You could just tell me who you are now,” you said but the voice didn’t reply.

You sprinted down the corridor, towards the figure in the near distance. You quickly stopped until you got a clear image of the mysterious man's face. It was him. The man from the bank. You took a step closer examining his face, he wore a smug look. The Bastard.

“I should probably explain.”

“Yeah. Probably,” you said in an irritated tone while marching towards him. You raised your hand, knowing exactly where you wanted to strike him. But the Master saw it coming and swiftly dodged the attack.

“We’ll be having none of that,” he said with a look of warning.

“What is this? The hell is your problem?" You said angrily.

"We should leave," he ignored your questions, "before someone notices you’re gone." He walked off, you followed behind him still trying to get an answer out of him.

The pair of you stopped as you reached the exit, two men were guarding the main exit and they both saw the Master and yourself.

“Shit,” you gasped.

“Oi!” One of the guards shouted. “The hell d’you think you're doing?”

The Master rolled his eyes and tumbled around in his pocket, pulling out a small device. Before you could see what the device was he pointed it at the guards and set it off. The two men disappeared.

“Where have they gone!” You tried to run towards where the men once stood but the Master pulled you back. "You killed them!" You shouted, but the Master just laughed in response. 

"They’re not dead,” his spine chilling laughter continued. ”Not just yet." He picked up something from off the floor and presented it to you.

In his hands were the two guards the size of lego figures. You looked up at him, mouth agape and starting to shake in fear. His dark eyes met yours and without breaking contact he tossed the men aside. You slowly backed away from him, your head shaking. “What are you?” 

“I’m not from around here,” he was back to his calm and stoic self within a blink of an eye.

“And? You think that's an excuse!” You cry out.

“You're not getting it,” his tone suddenly turned frustrated, “I am not from this planet.”

“Fuck off," you let out a scoff.

“I knew your human brain would be too small to get it,” he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you towards the exit. 

“Get off of me!” You pushed away from him, “I’m not going anywhere with a murderer!”

“Oh, don’t take the moral high ground. I know what you’ve done!” He smiled and moved closer to you upon seeing your confused expression, “oh love,” he whispered into your ear. “I know all about that past of yours. The mistake you made—”

“Don’t” you pleaded, “just don’t.”

“You can hide your past from yourself but not from me.” He grabbed your hand again, his grip tighter this time. “Now come one!” he ordered, leading you out the door.

The open air felt good, really good. There was something different about the fresh air of freedom. You still had your doubts about the Master, he tricked you once before and you knew he could easily do it again. Also the fact that he seemed to know more about your past than you did didn’t help your doubts. You allowed him to drag you to god knows where, still trying to centre yourself from all that had just happened. In time, you found yourself in an abandoned building.

“We’ll be safe here for the time being,” the Master said. You were only half listening.

“What do you want from me,” you finally said.

“Nothing, I just got bored. Was in the mood for something thrilling.”

“You’re psychotic,” you said, taking a couple of steps back from the madman.

He only smiled in response.

“You shrunk those men, how?”

“Tissue Compression Eliminator,” He took the device from out his pocket, letting you see it from across the room. “My own invention…” he saw the confusion in your eyes, and how you were mentally trying to piece it all together. “Like I said I’m not from this planet”

“Impossible…”

“Nothing’s impossible.”

You thought carefully and raised a brow at him, “okay, okay. I’ll play along, prove it. Prove you’re alien.”

“I don’t have my ship,” he said softly.

“Well isn’t that convenient,” you gave him an unimpressed look. “This isn’t very convincing you know—”

“I have two hearts,” he cut you off. He stepped forward and held out his hand.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you could trust him. If he wanted to kill me he would have done so already, you reasoned with yourself as you took his hand.

The Master gently placed your hand on one side of his chest. He slowly moved in toward the other side after a couple of seconds. He let go of your hand but you didn’t move it from his chest, you needed to make sure this wasn’t some kind of magic trick.

“What the hell,” you mouthed. 

The Master faked a cough, “if you’re quite finished,” he said looking down at your hand. You moved it away from his chest.He tried to say something else but you stopped him, needing a moment of silence to digest all that had happened.

“Okay,” you said, “but just because you’re from outer space it doesn't mean I haven't forgotten what happened at the bank.”

“I haven’t forgotten about that slap either.”

“Attempted," you corrected. "Fine, If I forget about the bank you forget about me trying to hit you,” you held out your hand, “deal?”

He reluctantly shook it, “deal.”

You both went off into separate corners of the room. Every so often you could feel his presence in your mind, you’d have to cough or turn round or send him a glare of warning to get him to stop. When he wasn’t invading your head he would fidget. You could hear him tapping away to himself and moving from one stop to another. It was like he couldn’t focus on one thing at a time, he was more than impatient.

"So, your planet?” You asked, “how many miles away is it?"

He stopped all that he was doing, his attention now on you. "Millions and millions."

"Wow. That’s one hell of a taxi fare," you joked. But your smile turned into a  look of disappointment when he didn't laugh or smile at it. “So why are you on earth? Why not your home?”

“Didn’t like home very much,” his expression changed at the word home.

“So what? You ran away like an angsty teenager?”

“Is that the last question?” He asked.

“One more, why Earth and not another planet?”

“Waiting for a friend.”

“When are you meeting them?”

“2020.”

You looked at him, why was it always impossible to tell if he was joking or not. You got up from your corner and moved closer to him. “That’s well over a decade away,” you took a seat on the floor beside him. “They must be something special.”

“They stole my TARDIS. Left me stuck in 1942.”

You thought about asking how he looked so good for someone at least in their 60’s or what a TARDIS was. But you had a feeling that you wouldn’t get a straight answer. You settled for saying; “I don’t think that’s something a friend would do.”

He hummed in response.

“You sure you can’t meet them sooner?”

“Timelines,” his eyes rolled slightly.

“...Timelines?”

“I can travel in time.”

“Of course you can,” your response was sarcastic. But part of you believed it, it felt mad enough to be true. He was mad enough to be from another world.  You lied down, your head starting to feel heavy from lack of sleep. “This friend of your, what’s their name?”

“She’s called the Doctor.”

“What a strange planet you come from,” you murmured.

“Yours isn’t any better,” he spat.

“You're getting rather defensive for someone who just said they didn’t like their home very much.”

He said nothing in response, you smiled knowing you were right.

“You should sleep,” he muttered.

He was right, but you still felt a sense of worry around him.

“You were right in thinking that if I wanted to kill you I would have done so already,” his voice was reassuring.

“Can you stop it with the mind stuff!” You scolded before turning over and trying to get some sleep.

Sunlight blinded your eyes, you blinked a few times adjusting to the light. Your head was pounding, you opened your eyes to expect to be back in your prison cell. To your surprise you wren’t, all that happened last night wasn’t a crazy dream. The Master was still there, watching you as you awoke. 

“Do you want to cause some chaos?” he asked, a smirk beginning to form, his eyes lighting up.

“How long have you been watching me?” You questioned, “do you even sleep?”

“Do you want to cause some chaos?” he asked again. Whatever his plan was he was proud of it.

“Go on,” you said narrowing your eyes

“This friend of mine should be on earth soon,” he explained, “I might not be able to see them because of timelines but you…” his smirk grew wider once he realised that you were catching on to his plan.

You pulled yourself up, you’re smirk matching his own. “I guess she should pay for stealing your spaceship?”

[cryxmercy]

Umbra - Solo

Mercy receives a letter. Of a sort.

When: Current, around midday Where: Drake Residence Who: Mercy

TW: None.

To the casual observer, at first glance the envelope wouldn’t seem like anything special.  Mixed with the rest of the post - utility bills, junk mail, and the newest issue of Lighthouse Digest that Mercy had signed Arthur up for because who doesn’t like lighthouses? - it could’ve easily contained a greeting card or an invitation to a wedding or some other upscale, black-tie affair. The thing was, the envelope hadn’t been there when Mercy had brought in the mail that morning. If nothing else, she would’ve noticed the expensive black vellum amidst the cheap, generic white of the other envelopes in the pile. 

Needless to say, the small objects appearance left Mercy feeling more than a little unsettled. Though perhaps she had missed it that morning. Arthur was gone to work, and he was always much more thorough about going through the mail than Mercy, sorting or trashing things appropriately instead of simply tossing the lot on the counter to be dealt with later. So perhaps she’d simply… overlooked it. 

But Mercy knew that was a lie.  

She hadn’t overlooked it. Because there had been nothing to overlook. 

And now that she’d seen it, there was no unseeing. Not until whatever message it contained was delivered. It was simply The Way. And it didn’t care how much time had passed since the last message had been delivered. Only that it was. And that it was read once it was received. 

Which explained why Mercy resisted the urge to scratch her forearm where the skin had started to tingle. The longer she stared at the envelope - the previous incarnation had come in the form of a black scroll sealed with gold wax - the more her arm would protest. She could resist the pull for a little while, she knew - she’d done it before, out of pure spite - but in the end, the only way to stop it from getting worse was to open the letter. 

Mercy had signed a contract, after all. A very long time ago.

But what was time to the timeless? 

Meaningless, that’s what.

As meaningless as Mercy’s desire to ignore a calling card she hadn’t seen in almost half a millenia. 

A long moment passed as Mercy simply stood there, flexing her hand into a fist over and over and over… weighing her options. Few as they were. Eventually, Mercy set her jaw and reached for the envelope. She hesitated slightly, a deep furrow in her brow, before breaking the ornate wax seal and letting the contents - a single sheet of expensive black stationary that Mercy was careful not to touch - slide onto the countertop. It settled with a weight far heavier than any ordinary paper should possess. There were no words, no symbols, no writing of any kind on its surface. It was nothing but a dark, unmarked, and very unwelcome stain that seemed to draw all the light and cheerfulness from the room. 

But Mercy knew the message was there. Waiting. 

She simply had to press her palm to the black paper, and all would be revealed. But doing so would mean accepting whatever lay hidden within. If she were honest, a small part of her felt a familiar thrill at the thought of the unknown that lay within the black paper. But a larger part - the part that wanted to make a life, a real one, here with Arthur - wanted nothing to do with it. Nothing at all. 

In the end, Mercy left the paper right where it was. Instead, she grabbed her keys and jacket, locked up, got on her motorcycle and headed towards the university. Because the letter wasn’t going anywhere, not until the message was delivered. And because to hell with what they wanted. To hell with all of it. 

It had been almost 500 fucking years.

They could damn well wait on her for once. 

~

[samwellwinchesterthebrave]

valentines asks: all the evens, please!! (for 44/fmk: sam/dean/cas-- their characters, not their actors)

Yay, thank you for questions 😊💜

2. Favorite candy? Snickers

4. What was your first kiss like? It was sweet and soft. Granted, I panicked and ran away after (first kiss was with a girl as I was slowly coming to realize I was not straight)

6. Sexual/romantic orientation? I am bisexual and biromantic (i suppose? Biromantic is a thing, right?)

8. Favorite fanfic trope? My fav to write is angst with a happy ending. My fav to read is mutual pining

10. Favorite milkshake flavor? Strawberry banana

12. Favorite flowers? A tie between snapdragons and orchids

14. Favorite candle scent? I tend to be sensitive to scents so no scent or something light like clean linen

16. Favorite love story? Hmm. My favorite romance novel is The Villa by Nora Roberts. Though if we're talking any media, it's the romance between Anders and Hawke in Dragon Age 2 (love that sweet sweet mutual pining)

18. Chocolate, vanilla, or red velvet? Red velvet cake with chocolate fudge frosting :)

20. Sweetest romantic memory? Hmm, let me think. Okay, this is kind of a type of memory but it works. While my ex was courting me, she would offer me back massages. I was thrilled because a) I was touch-starved and I love physical affection and b) my back was like a titanium board (her words). So it was this lovely collection of times where I felt affection and tenderness and care while allowing myself to be vulnerable with someone else (something i tended to avoid at all costs because bullying)

22. Fictional crushes? Hoo boy, I have many because they are safe. But, the top ones are probably Anders from Dragon Age, Caleb Widogast from Critical Role, and Claire from the Resident Evil movies

24. What makes you blush? Um, anyone flirting with me (that I pick up on), sometimes innuendos, and people complimenting me

26. Do you believe in soulmates? Yes, I do, though I don't believe in a single romantic soulmate ever. I believe there can be platonic soulmates and multiple romantic ones. Souls aren't static and unchanging so what our soulmate is can change too

28. What's your sign? I'm an aquarius (with a birthday on saturday hehe)

30. Do I prefer to charm or be charmed? Considering that I have no romantic wiles and couldn't flirt to save my life, I think me trying to be charming would be an utter failure. I would like to be charmed and react back to the person charming me.

32. Favorite romcom or romantic movie? Fav romcom is Ten Inch Hero and fav romantic movie is Before We Go (some of the lines and themes in that movie speak to my soul)

34. Valentine's decorations yay or nay? Yay because I'm a sucker for cheesy romantic tropes and decorations

36. Cloud gazing or star gazing? Both? Both. But if I can pick only one, star gazing. I am enraptured by the cosmos

38. What's your otp? I have many but the top is Destiel. No question

40. Coffee, hot chocolate, or tea? While I like and drink all three, tea is my favorite

42. Gazing wistfully out the window or lying dramatically on the sofa? The window. Lying dramatically feels like it would be the center of attention and in everyone's way and I tend to not want to be seen (again, bullying)

44. Fmk sam/dean/cas? Okay, fuck Dean because wow he looks like he's good at it, marry Sam because I love him, and kiss (i refuse to kill because I do not want dean after me) Cas

46. Favorite liquor? Huh. I don't drink much because I don't digest alcohol properly but probably Arbor Mist wine. I'm a cheap date *shrug*

48. A walk in the park or a walk on the beach? I love the ocean so the beach. Hands down.

50. What's your dream house? Well, no hoa first off. But I love the old Victorian homes. I also love homes with unique lines. No boxes for me. Something with three or four bedrooms so I have room for a guest room and a library/craft room, a nice size kitchen, and maybe a small movie theater (I've been swayed to this because of watching house tours in la on youtube). I'd also like a large enough property I can have a little garden, maybe a pool, and a nice space for grilling and parties. I don't want anything huge but there are some luxuries I'd really like.

Thanks and feel free to ask more if you're curious 👍🙂

[tictheproducer]

Spittin’ Knowledge

You don’t see my fight

Just the highlight reels

The high life thrills

But I’m not a seeker of fly by deals

I savor the process cater to progress

You deny what’s real

What you ingest digest

But not all food heal

Like how you nurture mind and body

But deny your soul

The driving force while you course through winding roads

At the bridge of salvation but won’t pay that toll

Take the cave as a cheap escape but that path gets cold

And lack of heat is a slow death

And I pray that all that go against me experience it

Spit in the right hand of God and get hit with the left

You see why I did there?

Your lack of respect don’t hinder shit

You ain’t gotta give me mines I’m used to taking what I want Robin

Hood dwelling showed me ain’t no merry men

Where the level of protection is paper thin

Either up it or get snatched y’all call that robbing

The people I hung round showed me first hand

You better have a plan to the backup plan

Cause when shit gets sticky niggas get lippy

You go smell something fishy and you ain’t at the farmers market

That’s the prequel to bullshit you better stop it before it start

I play smart circle tighter than a pinhole

Decreasing the shit shows cause I knew from the get go

That all my niggas got egos and we all think we big bro

But we’ll kill for each other though