#aim big collect even bigger

[lightasthesun]

my best advice is for you to bullshit your way through life

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Relax, Sweetness - JJ Blurb

+18 Minor DNI

JJ x GF!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 Warnings: smut, language, pet names, gunplay, cum tasting, brief unprotected p in v

📖 JJ enlists his girlfriend (reader) for a little help christening his gun.

✨ “You don’t trust me?” He gives you a crooked smile, lifting the gun up to his head, pulling the trigger. You hear the clinking of metal on metal making you gasp. “So… We good? You gonna help me, angel girl?” ✨

700 words

Reader’s POV:

“Don’t you think it’s a little much, Jayj? Do you really need a gun?” You ask wearily, cocking an eyebrow at your boyfriend who’s a little too excited about his new gun as he moves around his room stealthily, aiming at invisible bad guys as you continue to read your book.

“‘Course I do, princess.” He gives you a smirk, cigarette dangling from his lips, nothing but some white boxers on his tanned body.

“Why though?”

“Protection, doll. Think of it like a condom. Yeah? Ya keep it in your pocket, just in case. Wouldn’t wanna risk not having one of those. Same shit,” he chuckles raspily; twirling the gun around his finger.

“Is it loaded?” You whisper.

“Nah… Used all the bullets up this afternoon.”

“Doing what, JJ?”

“Shootin’ stuff.”

“Like…”

“Cans, mom. I was shooting cans with Pope, alright? What are you so worried about?” He chuckles as he saunters your way, ashing his cigarette out on your metal bed frame. He turns his hat backward as he leans in a little closer, giving you a sweet kiss. “I know what you’re gonna say-”

“You, Jayj. M’worried about you. Why would you all of a sudden need a gun?”

“I’ve always needed a gun,” he mumbles. “And, could you stop bringin’ down the room? It’s fine. It’s fine. Alright? Nothin’ to worry about. Papa J is safe. Even safer now. One regret, though… One big ole regret. Never got to christen this thing.”

“Christen your gun… How do you do that?” You ask, apprehensively.

“With good pussy,” he chuckles, his response making your heart race as you puzzle together what he wants to do with your help.

“It’s not loaded… Like – Are you sure?” You ask weakly, feeling a steady pulse between your thighs, terrified but excited all at the same breath.

“You don’t trust me?” He gives you a crooked smile, lifting the gun up to his head, pulling the trigger. You hear the clinking of metal on metal making you gasp. “So… We good? You gonna help me, angel girl?”

“Yeah-” He pushes you back on the mattress, flipping your skirt before you can change your mind. JJ loops his fingers around the string of your panties, tugging them away.

You feel the chill of the metal against your warm skin as JJ traces the gun higher and higher. Goosebumps spread across your body as he reaches your inner thigh, making you draw in slightly. “Relax, sweetness. You’re safe. Alright?” He mumbles as he crawls a little closer.

“Fuckkk,” he moans as the gun hits your slick, gliding through your folds. He plays a little more, collecting your essence on the muzzle. JJ swirls the tip gently on your clit, watching as you whimper and moan below him. Your eyes widen as he moves lower, assuming what’s to come.

“Uh – Jayj? I… Um,” you stammer as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“My cock’s bigger,” he rasps, giving you a little wink before pressing it inside, making you toss your head back.

“Shit, JJ,” you gasp.

“My girl likes it. Huh?” He lowers himself to your lips as he strokes nice and slow. Your tongue greets his, reeling as he swallows moan after moan.

You feel him draw it out completely, eyeing the weapon glazed with your wetness. “Beautiful,” he groans. “For you.” He extends it your way, your hand trembles as you take it off his. JJ rolls to his back, working his boxers off his hips, tossing them to the side. “Co’mere, darlin’,” he drawls.

You hover over his rock-hard cock, gun clasped in your other hand. “Now what, Jayj?” You smile. He clasps your hips, lowering you slowly down on his length until you’re fully sat.

“Look at you,” he praises. His baby blues brimming with lust. “Fuck. You look good.” JJ’s hands rest on the fullness of your hips, looking at you hungrily as his tongue glides along his bottom lip. “Let me taste it.”

“Jayj…”

“C’mon,” his lips part ever so slightly. The gun passing his lips. JJ sucks off your slick, eyes rolling back as a deep moan rumbles in his chest. His eyes flutter shut, sucking all the way back to the tip. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he groans as you rest the piece down on the comforter. He smacks your ass roughly, soothing the sting with his heavy hands as he grips your ass. “That’s how it’s done, baby.” JJ reaches up, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, towing you close. “How’d that feel?” He whispers as his lips graze yours slowly.

“Good,” you giggle breathily, still riding an indescribable high. You start to wind your hips, grinding on his cock as he smiles against your lips.

“Just another reason I needed that gun, Princess.”

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[gremlingottoosilly]

Cabin in the woods (yandere!shasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yandere!slasher!Horangi) chapter 5

Your friend is being tortured. Unfortunately for you, Konig and Horangi aren't exactly satisfied with just his misery.

WARNINGS: Blood, dub-con bordering on non-con, general slasher-y, mild knife stabbing

Masterlist with all chapters This on AO3

— Alright, kitten, let’s try this again. The knife goes inside, the guts go outside. What is there to mess up?

— Don’t…don’t call me that. — How should I call you then? Future victim? — No? Please? 

— I’m old and I’ve seen all this shit before, kitten. Let me call you what I like and maybe, I won’t prolong his death too much. Or yours, for that matter. The shorter guy pushes the knight into your hands, making you press the blade against Max’s stomach. You refuse – as much as you can, with your trembling hands and desire to survive, no matter what. Max is frozen in the chair, tied up as securely as possible without cutting the circulation in his hands – the bigger psycho told you something about letting the blood flow freely, so your first killing experience would be more fun. 

Fun – the fuck was he thinking? 

Max is fixated in one place and you are holding the knife – well, to be quite certain, Horangi wrapped his hands around yours, making sure that you won’t try to wrestle the knife out of his hold and aim it at them. He makes you push the blade deeper, and scrap Max’s skin – his clothes were torn by the taller killer, another sentiment of his raw strength. You feel tears collecting in your eyes – you feel dread in every inch of your skin, walling in the endless possibilities of manslaughter. 

You feel the interest picking up at the level of your groin. You try to tell yourself that this is just adrenaline, a natural reaction, the big guy was basically fondling your pussy and trying to get you as aroused as possible before he got distracted by his partner – it’s only normal that your walls are clenching around nothing, that you are trying to think about different things and failing miserably. You don’t feel excited about killing your friend because it is simply impossible – even when said friend is as fucking horrible as one person can be. Even when this friend crosses the academic rivalry and dives deeper into the river of being a fucking asshole Even when…

— Her hands are trembling. Cute. 

— Kitten’s first murder? 

— Should have left the slut for her. Would be a nice cat fight. 

— Don’t think she knows how to fight, She doesn’t even try to get the knife, Ko. 

You writhe in his hold, trying to resist his firm, strong hands pressing on yours – but you both know that you are merely pretending, that you just need to try something so you won’t feel as fucking horrible about not doing anything to save your friend. You say to yourself that this is simply self-preservation. You can’t resist your captors, you don’t want to die a horrible, painful death – which is why you are so ready to inflict that on Max. You’d pray for his forgiveness in hell, but you both know that he spends most of his time on r/Atheism. 

Killers just love to speak like you are not even here – and you would love to not be here, you’d pay literally anything to just run away as far as possible, to not have them after you. You tried to run already, tried to resist – tried everything you could, and yet, it was impossible. No matter how much you try, they are always a step ahead of you – sometimes even literally, when they both are pushing you between them like you are merely a toy for their amusement. Perhaps, in some twisted way, you are. They speak over you, against you, and you hate the little nicknames they are giving you – treating you like a pet even though you do not know them, and they only know you for barely a few hours. 

This is probably something about you, making you a perfect victim. You always thought that your adaptiveness was just a signal of people pleasing and a horrible lack of spine – but it saving you now, keeping you interesting enough for the maniacs. You’d pay anything not to be their favorite, but you already know how they treat those who are of no use to them. And you’re fucking scared of dying. 

— You need to press deeper if you want to hurt him, Schatzen. 

It’s a good thing that they gagged Max’s mouth. You don’t know why, it seems like too much mercy for someone like them, but at least you won’t have to hear him screaming – especially when König envelops your hands on top of the hands of his partner, pressing it against your friend’s soft gut. 

You never knew that human flesh is so…vulnerable. You don’t even need any strength, they are doing all the job for you. you are the one holding the knife but you find a small mercy in thinking of your impact as just this – being a knife. An instrument. Instruments don’t have free will, you can’t blame a gun for killing a person – blame the one who fired it. You didn’t gut your friend, you were just doing what a good object is supposed to. 

God, you feel awful. 

— I don’t…please, don’t make me do this, please…

You whimper, pathetically – König can barely contain his erection. God, you’re simply fucking perfect like this, hands already covered in blood splurging from the small cut you made on this guy's stomach. In a rite of passion, König moved one of his hands to rip the gag off his mouth, listening to the beautiful squeals the guy was making. All of these pig-like screaming got him wanting a nice, hot Schnitzel. He licks his lips, tilting his head to look at the screaming man. 

— Screams like a pig. 

— More like a whaling dog. 

— Cut him again, ja? Deeper, or you’ll be sitting next to him. 

König knows that he won’t do it. You might be a weird addition to their little duo, but they both knew that they wanted someone, a pet for them to share – not because of some weird kinks, although it’s part of the reason, mostly out of a desire to be dominant to someone helpless, someone pathetic and weak. Someone who is so fragile would need constant protection, and constant putting in their place. Horangi’s savior syndrome and König’s control freakiness coming from his days as colonel made them…unstable, a bit. 

Until they found little ol’ you. 

— What the fuck are you doing?! Max can finally scream – and he screams at you, not the killers. You cry and shake, trying not to fall unconscious because of the tension and here he is, making sure that you feel as horrible as he is – mentally, for now. The pit in your stomach grows deeper with every squeal, you want to shut your ears and scream until your throat is sore, you want to push the knife away and hide somewhere. The hands are holding you in place and you can barely move. 

You plead – you want to take Max’s place, you hate being the object of their affection, your hands are trembling and your body is barely moving. Your head is still pounding and you feel like you’re going to fucking die because you can’t even breathe and you panic and…

— Hey, Calm down, ja? You don’t want to do this? 

König is surprisingly gentle when you sob, hands shaking uncontrollably. He pushes Max to the ground, poor guy is falling down, still tied up to a chair, probably hitting his head on the cold basement floor – Horangi pushes him even deeper with a kick on the ribs and you hear the sobs, so uncharacteristic for a smartass like Max. You don’t want to be here, you don’t want to be here, you don’t want to be here, you don’t want to-

— Please, d…don’t…

König gently puts your face in his hands, holds you as softly as someone like him can.

Then a hand lays on the curve of your ass – a harsh, rough spank that made your skin burn even through the jeans. You yelp, tears flowing freely down your face – König laughs, putting you in your place like a fucking unruly animal. The betrayal of the previous softness makes you cry. 

— It’s okay, Schatzen. 

You refuse to look when the knife goes inside Max’s stomach. You refuse to look even when the second guy twists your face in his hold and makes you open your eyes. Blood, nothing but it – it stains his clothes, your clothes, it makes you want to ouke and you fall to your knees because this is not happening, it could not be happening, your hands are clean and perfect, they would never be able to kill a living, breathing being – this isn’t something that you would do, ever. This isn’t something that…

— Thought she’d be calmer by now. 

— She is a bit skittish. Might have to lock her in the basement. 

— And getting rid of all the thrill. 

— Didn’t you want to elevate us to the next level? 

— I was talking about adoption, Ko. Maybe getting a freaking puppy, for starters. 

— She’s the second best thing. 

König’s hand goes to scrub your neck and you exhale loudly, still terrified of him. Poor, naive girl, just how scared you are of them – it’s funny, really, ridiculous even. They could have killed you any second now, so, if they aren’t doing it, you must be calmer now, no? Your reactions are adorable, but he starts to think that he won’t be able to make you choke on his cock like this. Scared animals tend to show their teeth and, well, he still wants his dick to be with him. 

Maybe with a gag…

He pushes a finger in your mouth – to his and your surprise, you don’t even bite him out of instinct. You wince, but don’t refuse – just look at him like a caged animal. He liked that look on you, made you all nice and submissive just for him and Horangi. God, it was so long since they were with someone so soft, so…weak. He counts your teeth – might need to pull something out, a trophy for him. Tugs at your tongue and you immediately started to suck on his fingertip – a welcoming intrusion. He didn’t intend anything like this, just wanted to check your biting reflex, but if you are welcoming…

Hong-jin catches the look on your face and the expression that can be so easily read on König’s face. You’re both adorable, his perfect fucking partners – or a partner and his victim, to be quite right.  He swiftly helps König undo his pants, knowing how tricky those cargo and multiple belts can be – everything to not let their prey get an advantage over them in any way. Getting sloppy seconds sucks, but the bigger killer would make you nice and warm for them, broken in exactly right. 

Besides, even if you would bite off a few inches of König’s cock, it wouldn’t do much difference. The man would still be a fucking stallion. 

You start to panic when Max isn’t even dead yet, and the killers are pushing their pants down, making you work your mouth on the enormous bulge in König’s briefs. You wince, closing your eyes and pretending that you are not here, that this isn’t happening, and you’re stuck in your happy place, actually, forever and ever, and…you want to cry and whimper, and you do – you can feel blood slowly coating the floor. 

You lapping your mouth on the underwear of a serial killer while your friend is slowly bleeding from a deep cut on his stomach. You smell the usual things, that you are accustomed to already – sweat, blood, metal. The same knife that cut Max is pressing against your neck right now, urging you not to bite on the killer’s cock. You are worried more about vomiting all over his legs – but you don’t want to get your neck scrapped too. You gulp, seeing the outline of a huge, enormously thick cock poking out of the top of a simple black briefs. There is…there is no way it would fit – your mouth can only open so far, you are not a fucking snake, you are…

Horangi pushes his boot to your clothed cunt. Presses deep, the narrow part is strangely hot between your legs. Jeans and panties are securing your dignity for now, not allowing the full strength of those feelings to rise, but you were already aroused before and the new pressure is only making it worse now. You open your mouth – maybe in shock, maybe in a feeble attempt to make them stop – and König pushes the head of his cock right in. 

Your throat is welcoming him. Tight and warm around his shaft, he can only push further and further, making it impossible for you to close your teeth enough to bite. He can feel the stretch of your jaw, how perfect the bulge in your throat looks for him – he can think of a few new ways of making your body bulge both from him and Horangi. It was quite a while since they had a partner to try double penetration with. 

When you choke on the dick penetrating your mouth, Horangi can only chuckle, pushing his boot even deeper against your pussy. He can feel the wetness of your intimate parts, even through the jeans – you’re a dirty thing, getting off their touches while your friend bleeds to death. If he wasn’t so unsure that those pricks don’t have any STDs to give you, he’d use Max’s blood as a lube. Maybe make you lick it as you did with his knife. Maybe he’s…shit, all of these lewd thoughts make him want to fuck you right now – and he is certain that a dick in your cunt, no matter how wet and slutty it is, will break you right now. Fuckin’ civvies and their fragile brains. 

— Where we would dump his body after it’s done? 

Horangi can speak normally, for now. His dick is throbbing painfully in his pants, but he knows that at least one of them should remain calm and think with their upper head unless they want you to get away with your little friend. You are surprisingly resilient for prey – albeit a bit dumb, like all normal people are when the situation turns into a life-and-death one. His boot isn’t soft on your folds, the rough fabric of your jeans only making it worse - you still squirm and moan, crying on König’s dick and sending delicious vibrations down your throat. 

— C…can feed him to the river. 

König is breathing heavily, his hand goes to grab your hair and make you take his dick whole. He doesn’t really care if you are choking – giving you the opportunity to breathe through your nose should be nice already. You don’t want to admit it, but it’s still better than getting killed – you suck as enthusiastically as possible, just so you won’t make them too mad at you. Just so the feeling of heavy dick in your mouth would push away every other thought – about Max, for example. 

The guy is still bleeding on the chair right next to you – but every last bit of your brain, still remaining in your head, is getting pushed to the very back by König’s dick and Horangi’s boot. 

You whimper when the pressure on your pussy grows faster. You don’t want to cum, you can’t cum like this – fully clothed, covered in blood and scratches, on the boot of your tormentor. You don’t want this to be pleasurable, but it’s better than having them rape you raw – you try to say that your reaction is normal, you’re just adapting, you don’t actually get off your helplessness and the feeling of complete loss of power and responsibility, but you know that, deep down, it’s all bullshit. 

You like sucking him off – you’re wet enough from the lack of oxygen alone, not speaking about anything else. You like being on your knees, supported by a boot rooting in your cunt – and you also adore the fact that you don’t have to do anything. König is content with slamming his dick in your welcoming mouth without calling you a passive bitch with zero skills, and Horangi seemingly gets off just making sure you’re as aroused as possible. In a different circumstance, you’d beg them for more. 

In this situation, however, you just try to block out the bleeding guts of your friend less than a meter away from you. 

— We have to keep her, Tigeren. 

— What if she’d run away? 

— I can cut off her legs…Scheisse, she just got tighter from this. Good job, Katzen. 

— We can keep her in the basement, but she needs regular walks. 

— I will walk her. 

— With sawed legs? 

— I can hold her in my arms. 

— We still need to take care of her friends first. 

They both humm in acknowledgment, Horangi almost stopped pursuing your tenderness – only to slam harder, getting on his knees to take off your jeans completely. You shiver in the cold air, feeling the torn fabric falling down your legs. Of course, just taking your pants off normally wouldn’t be enough – he needed to rip them off, breaking the boundary between a fashionable and unrepairable. 

You whimper – the soft, thin fabric of your simple panties isn’t nearly enough to stop your puffy cunt from being wet. The white fabric is almost transparent from your juices, it’s pathetically easy for Horangi to make you squeal on his boot. He presses and rolls the rounded end down your panties and up your cunt, making you cry from the sensation. Your little whines only make the experience better for König – who already got his hand on the back of your head and slammed all length inside, making sure that your jaw would fucking hurt. 

You choke when he suddenly slams into your throat with full force – not allowing you to just hold his dick in your lips like you did before. You choke even more as his cum fills your throat. You don’t have to taste it, thankfully, your tongue laying flat under his dick. You can almost expel yourself from the situation, pretending that it’s your favorite movie characters or videogame heroes. 

You can try to pretend that you are not cumming from your pussy being folded by the killer’s boot. 

— Did you cum? Good girl. 

— College girls became sluttier since I was in college, ja? 

— I doubt you were in college, Ko. 

You hear their banter and can see the bigger man showing the other one on the shoulder. You don’t react, frozen in place, on your knees. Your naked legs are scraping on the floor, which is definitely filled with corpses and some nasty vermin – you can’t force yourself to care about it right now. You can barely fucking thing, just wanting everything to end so you could go to sleep happily. So you could close your eyes and never fucking open them again. 

You are being ushed to the air by your hands – like a cat, the one from insanely long memes. You whimper, thinking that killers probably have half a mind of just fucking ending your life once and for all – you gave them everything they needed, and now your helpless figure, coughing down the cum coating your throat, is probably of no use to them.

You can try to save your life. Really, you can – maybe they won’t listen to you but maybe, if they didn’t kill you yet, they can consider just…letting you go. Maybe these predators are getting sated on just Max’s body. Maybe you can still try to run away. 

— I…I don’t know who you are. If I just go, I won’t even be able to tell the police anything. 

— You’re implying we let you go because you don’t know who are we? 

— I won’t tell anyone. I don’t even know German! 

They laugh. The worst possible reaction – you feel blood drained from your body. God, are…are they going to murder you because of this little stunt? The bigger guy goes to you, cupping your face in his hand. 

The other one goes under his mask. 

— Hans, callsign “König”. Colonel for mercenary company, if that’s not enough. 

You couldn’t even close your eyes before you saw him fully – ginger hair, uneven stubble. Face, covered in scars. You want to say that this is the face of a killer, you know this is the face of a killer – the handsome one. The pretty one. Not in the way that boyband singers are pretty, not cute – but you can’t deny that putting a face to your tormentor figure made your already soaked cunt even more wet. 

— Hong-jin, callsign “Horangi”. Still think we’re going to let you go? 

They are handsome – both of them. Without masks, their voices are unfiltered, pure. You see a handsome Asian man with a face covered in scars and burn masks, and his partner, covered in the same fashion. You knew they must be from the military, judging by the uniform and mannerisms – but you never knew they would be this…

You begged them to let you go, saying that you won’t tell anybody about them. You both know that you are not getting out of this forest alive, knowing their names and how they look like – you won’t even be able to pull out a “Hush” move and just text everyone who are they – no cell service and no family to try and search for you in rural Austria. 

You collapse to the floor when König gently pushes your face up, smothering your lips with a kiss. 

You are not getting out of this forest. 

[bonny-kookoo]

OOOH can we get a lil' something for Yoongi from even days?

Of course, I won't let you guys starve haha (pls don't hate me) Warnings for obvious NSFW content oops..

It's quiet. So quiet, in fact, that you could swear you can hear the watch on his wrist click with ever second passing, mechanical clockwork spinning and moving with time passing by. Then, he chuckles. Lowly so, almost like the purr of a tiger.

He's pleased. Entertained, even. Amused.

"Come here." He orders with a gentle tone, no need for harsh dominance because you're perfectly behaving. Sometimes, you don't.

Because sometimes, you want him to punish. Sometimes, you need the harsh sting of his hands on you. Sometimes, you aim to misbehave. But today, you don't. Today, you just want to please, and beloved in return for it.

A simple exchange. Your efforts for his affection.

You stand in front of him. It's yet again quiet as he observes you, only sound coming from his hands inspecting your body, fingers easily pulling your shirt over your head, before they untangle the knot holding your shorts up your waist. He pulls them down. You step out of them in trained movements. He smiles.

You're just such a good girl for him, most of the time.

He knows what you want. Why you want this in particular, why you need it. And it falls in place perfectly with his own desires and wants, two puzzle pieces aligning into one bigger picture. You're just what he wants, and he's just what you need.

Security. Comfort. Guidance.

Someone to take the control, lead you and take away the burden of decisions and choices. He's your master, your king, your everything, and you've chosen that for yourself years prior. You wouldn't want anyone else ever again.

Never.

"Sit." He orders next, has made space for you on his desk in front of him, and you do as he says, as you sit right in front of him on the cool wooden surface. He reaches out, observes you for a second, before his fingers curl into the opposite ends of the front of your simple black panties. Yoongi has been working out these days. It's evident to you, the change. But his hands had always been big, and strong.

One of your favorite features of his, right after his eyes.

Fabric rips, gives up quickly at the way he pulls it apart, your already wet cunt exposed to him, and your toes curl for a second in anticipation. It's a gamble, right now, because Yoongi doesn't just eat you out, or maybe give you a handjob.

You'll either be a crying mess at the end of this, skin slick with sweat from your body trying to handle orgasm after orgasm, or you'll be begging for your release, anything to get him to grant you at least one high without ruining it for his own fun.

You wonder what you'll get. Both sound absolutely amazing to you.

He can see your aching hole already clenching around nothing, hand reaching out to have his fingers spread you out further, just to enjoy the sight a little longer. His thumb collects some of your arousal, moves upwards to flick your clit, and he watches how your lower stomach tenses up, body fighting the urge to flinch.

And then, you drip.

One single drop of your essence, falling onto the carpeted floor of his office, right between his shoes.

His lips twitch upwards, eyes moving towards yours, as you look at him with the eyes of cornered prey.

Oh he knows exactly what he's going to do to you.

And he will enjoy every second of it.

[gamblersdoll]

𝒮𝐿𝒰𝒯 𝑀𝐸 𝒪𝒰𝒯! 1

camgirl! reader x guts

content warning: video-graphic porn, masturbation, (m and f) , dirty talking.

you never knew that doing so much porn could make you six figures. especially on onlyfans. ripe age of twenty two, you were in the trending charts of the top five.

you went live every monday and friday, realizing that mondays and fridays are the busy days of the year–everywhere. pizza joints, deli’s, retail chains, everything had a monday and friday that was busy. so you went live tonight, finding all of your fans coming in.

daddybigman: fuck you look good tonight 🥴

luvwhenyoucallme: you like older men? :)

hegetstheladees: i could watch you all day 😩

you watch them all come in, performing for the money pigs you collected in a day.

“im doing a raffle tonight!” you say, a cheerful smile on your face and fixing your push-up bra. “it will be randomized! itll be like a bid— you get five videos, five photos, a personal message, and a private facetime call! buyers, start your bids!”

and bid they did, random chats of ten dollars or twenty dollars came up, but you werent aiming for that shit. they had to be newcomers.

until you saw a bigger number, three hundred.

apparently the customer was pretty known for his gym content, his name on his page being named “Guts.” he seemed pretty handsome, big in height and his physique. you knew it was heavy, too.

“and the winner is…” you pause, looking for the name ‘theblkswrdsmn’ “thrblkswrdsmn!” you announce, disappointment in the chat.

at twelve at night, you end the live. and immediately, having to inbox the winner of the bid. he sees the message, immediately face timing your number.

you stumbled a bit, struggling to answer the facetime. “hello!” you chime, setting the phone up and sitting up to show up your fat breasts. he replies with a deep ‘hey there’ and sets his own camera up too. “what would you like to see today, baby?”

he chuckles, giving you a once over through the camera. “anything i can.” he bites his lip when you undress yourself, spreading your legs open as you lean back. “fuck..” he groans, palming himself through his shorts.

you chuckle, taking your index and middle then rubbing small circles on your clit. he exhales heavily, leaning his hips up to pull his shorts off.

and fuck, was it heavy as hell.

you bit your lip, too. plunging your fingers into your drenched pussy. “you got toys?” he asked, stroking himself until his tip became a shade of angry red. he fisted his cock faster, rolling his eyes and watched you finger your cunt. you shake your head to the question.

“like that, baby?” you ask, pulling your fingers out and spreading your folds apart. your fingers glistening from the shine of your arousal, taking your fingers up to your mouth and licking spit off your tongue and rubbing it on your clit.

he growls softly, hips bucking into his fist and him breathing heavy. “fuck, wish you were riding this cock.” he whines, another hand reaching down to fumble his balls.

“shit, its so big.” you moan, taking a nipple into your mouth and rolling your own eyes.

“thats it, right there!” he groans, sneaking his hand up underneath his shirt and pinching his own nipple. he jolts, feeling his balls squeeze as he spurts string of white onto his pump shirt. you feel your own coil tighten, creaming around your fingers and the white fluid spreading to your cunny’s lips.

you take camera off, cleaning yourself as you pull your panties up. “how much would it take to get a sneaky link?” he asks, patiently waiting for a reply.

you feel a lurch in your stomach, debating on whether or not you should even proceed with this or not. especially when it is a stranger from probably across the country. “five hundred.”

he nods,smiling.

“bet.”

[avaelangel]

I'm sad and insane. I think the show ends on my fucking birthday weekend. So you get random and stupid Claudeleine living in the 2020s headcanons.

Madeleine has several clothing lines under different names. Going out of the 1940, she was a seamstress for people, mostly ladies, who were too tall\big\thin for factory-made clothes. She still does that sometimes.

For a long time, Claudia was gathering rare books from different places. Only some of them got sold, Claudia has a collection of vintage and modern Emiliy Dickinson edition.

They are a couple. Totally, completely in love with each other. There's very little PDA about them, but the glances they give each other while Claudia helps Madeleine with sewing makes everybody jealous.

Vampires are great mimics, so Claudia can sew, but she doesn't want to impose on Madeleine's thing. But Madeleine doesn't sew for herself much, so Claudia sometimes fixates on making something nice for her beloved.

They spent some time in different suburbias over few decades. Madeleine relished freaking out mothers, young and old, but Claudia, moved only by the sound of her laugh, soon wanted something more quiet.

Honestly, a library of female authors comes easily onto their shelves. Living like ''We have always lived in the castle'' (secluded by woods and scary stories about them) is always an option.

On account of that, Madeleine for sure told at least one child that she's going to eat them. Never did, obviously.

They have mortal friends. Subconsciously, they both aim to leave some good feeling and try not to take too much with them. It's hard not to bring good people along, but both Claudia and Madeleine understand that human lives are important enough to be left alone. After some tweaking.

There's always an option to just...go off into nature. To sleep in the ground and feed on animals. Honestly, a great thing to do during a pandemic.

They play-fight at times. Full on hissing and throwing things, until Claudia drools while baring fangs and Madeleine is just dead from laughter.

Claudia doesn't sleep well. Madeleine can't brag about it either, but it comes easier to her, for some reason. So they talk or read. Both of their coffins are bigger than needed, in order for them both to fit when the moment comes.

No makers. They are just Claudia and Madeleine, no men involved, no men left behind. Just Madeleine and Claudia.

Claudia continues learning languages and barely earns praise for her French from Madeleine. Even to the point of Claudia not having an accent, her French would always be ''ugly-ish'', but Claudia will always be beautiful.

In turn, Claudia taunts Madeleine with new pet names in different languages, not telling her what they mean until Madeleine gets mad, seeks out a dictionary and stand there, ready to chuck the book at her girlfriend. ''Hornbug? Are you kidding me?'' And that's how Claudia finds out that sometimes, she isn't that good at learning languages.

They are never seen as a mother and a daughter. Claudia dresses like young woman and Madeleine really tries not to dress like an old lady, which Claudia doesn't really encourage. It's her weird white (old) lady, after all.

There are jokes about Claudia liking older women. While her and Madeleine mentally slapping their knees, because Claudia is the older woman.

[valve3nthusiast]

Rodimus gets pregnant with a conjunxed mech's baby, serious/angsty version. We need more fucked up dratchrod fr

I can't believe the first ever fanfiction I write is Ratchet doing medical malpractice lmao

Fuckin,,, uh,,, warning for mention of miscarriage/imagined threat to an unborn child??? I feel like I should warn for that.

Ratchet liked to believe he tolerated Rodimus with the same grace he gave to the rest of Drift's most ridiculous eccentricities. Just because they were conjunxed, didn't mean they were perfectly in tune and of the same opinion on everything. Every relationship had to have some give and take.

At the very least, Rodimus was cheaper than the crystal collection.

But that did mean he had to hear more about Rodimus than he ever really wanted to. And when Drift started expressing his concerns about "Roddy not feeling "himself"'...

A suspicion had crept over him, like a coolant rupture slowly freezing his energon lines.

Rodimus walked into the medbay, aiming for flippantly casual and falling just short of the mark. Rodimus tended to avoid the medbay when Ratchet was on shift. Even discounting that, he could see what Drift meant about that "disturbed energy" nonsense. Rodimus's field was noticeably (at least, for a medic) pulsing at a lower frequency.

"So what did you call me down for, doc?"

Ratchet got straight to the point. He didn't have the patience for anything else.

"I need to do an examination." He gestured vaguely to the table. "Up you go."

Rodimus took one look at the medberth configuration and snickered. Climbing up and putting his legs into position, he started, "If this is your way of saying you want a threesome-"

"Can it." He snapped, working the latches on the stirrups.

Rodimus, legs spread, reclined on the exam table. Ratchet found he had even less of a tolerance than usual for Rodimus's chatter, though it was more in the vein of nervous rambling.

"I don't have a virus, doc, you would know," he said, with an obnoxious little browplate wiggle. Ratchet deliberately tuned him out, especially the uptick of irrelevant and vaguely sexual comments once he brought out the speculum. Thankfully, Rodimus still retracted his panel without a fight.

Rodimus had a larger than average anterior node, and line of biolights trailing down his valve lips that matched the node's vibrant red color. As Ratchet spread his slit and inserted the speculum, he saw that the internal lights were the same.

It's a very pretty valve. He can see why Drift would like it.

Unfortunately, he can't confirm the absence of what he's looking for with a visual alone. (Not to mention that the pulsing and flaring of internal biolights wasn't helping visibility any.)

Ratchet gently removed the speculum, ignoring the strings of lubricant that stretched and snapped between the tool and Rodimus.

"I'm going to have to do a manual examination. Try not to flex your calipers or pelvic floor."

Rodimus squeaked out something affirmative. Ratchet pressed two fingers into his valve, but was unsurprised to note that he'd need to insert more to find what he was looking for.

...Rodimus was silken smooth to the touch. He straightend four fingers and slowly pushed in further, firmly ignoring how the soft and wet valve lining trembled around his hand, until Rodimus's anterior node met the dip between his thumb and palm.

With most patients, he wouldn't insert something this big in one go, but it was Rodimus. Ratchet would bet he'd taken something bigger in the past day.

His fingertips ghosted across Rodimus's ceiling node, before finally finding the forge iris.

And confirming his suspicion.

"Congratulations. You're sparked." Even with how distant his own voice sounded to his audials, he could tell it was bitingly cold. Unfortunately, it's not viable, he doesn't say, fingertips gently pressed to the seal, soft, perfectly intact. The gestational seal that protects the protoform appears to have already ruptured. Your systems will register the breach as a confirmed contamination of foreign bodies, and terminate the protoform.

Ratchet looks up, finally, to see Rodimus.

There's a subtle tremor on his lips. Fear, in his matrix-blue eyes. His spark, suddenly, feels flayed open under them.

It could be in reaction to the news. Ratchet knows it isn't. He knows:

Rodimus is scared of him.

His fingers were absentmindedly stroking over the seal, and he nearly snatched them back like they'd been burned. The hand that calmly pulls out of Rodimus's valve doesn't feel like his.

For one delirious moment, he wondered if Rodimus would do just that. Light up his ridiculous mod, and burn the three of them to death together. All of them gone, in one final moment of complete and total devastation.

Drift, entirely alone, with only the memory of a conjunx to cling to. Nothing left to tell him of the sparkling he would never know he had.

The moment ends. Ratchet finds that he's the one rambling now, statistics about carriages, essential nutrients, general hazards. Somewhere in all of that, Rodimus gets unbuckled from the medberth.

He rattles out something about scheduling him regular check ups with First Aid.

And,

"I'll leave you to tell Drift the good news."

Ratchet can't look at him when he says it.

Rodimus leaves his medbay without any further commentary.

[lightandfellowship]

Songs that remind me of Baldr

Not planning on making any KHDR playlists any time soon, but I still collect songs that remind me of the game's characters/events as I come across them. We'll start with Baldr.

Under the read more will be the songs in question along with some lyrics snippets that I feel illustrate why the song fits Baldr.

Villains Aren't Born (They're Made) by PEGGY - Baldr and Xehanort

I've shown in the past how these lyrics fit Baldr and Xehanort almost perfectly, here, here, and here.

Panic Room by AU/RA - Baldr

Relevant lyrics:

The lights spark and flicker With monsters much bigger Than I can control now Welcome to the panic room Where all your darkest fears are gonna come for you

"The lights spark and flicker" makes me think of how Baldr's room gets darker and darker over time. "Monsters much bigger than I can control", "darkest fears", and "panic room" are self-explanatory.

There's no crying wolves now 'Cause the truth has settled in Hiding under goose down For your nightmare to begin

The mention of wolves, like Xehanort's line "sheep pretending to be wolves." Also "hiding under goose down" (white feathers) makes me think of Baldr's hair, and Darkness hiding inside him.

The Bird Song by Noah Floersch - Baldr, Hoder, and Xehanort

Relevant lyrics:

She was a bird I was an arrow Both of us sure we were sword and a sparrow

An arrow/spear of mistletoe is important to Baldr, Hoder, and Loki's mythology. "Both of us sure we were sword and sparrow" I like to interpret as, they both thought Baldr was the soft one and Hoder was the defender, but then it turns out he was the arrow instead, killing Hoder.

I'm a killer, and a killer is a bad, bad thing to be She's a giver, and a giver's even worse to folks like me

Self-explanatory I think.

I was a bird He was an arrow I was allured by the straight and the narrow What could I do? His aim was true Straight to the heart I let it happen I couldn't hardly have ever imagined That when he went through me He'd hate what he's doin' And make me feel stupid for choosin' him too 'Cause i'm a giver, and a giver is a bad, bad thing to be He's a killer, and a killer's even worse for folks like me

I like to interpret this part as being about Baldr and Xehanort, and Xehanort having to kill him in the end.

We can't really help who we are Damned to the end from the start

"There's them...and there's us."

Pox by Good Kid - Baldr

Relevant lyrics:

A pox, a pox, upon this ground I'd give it up just to burn it down And if they die here you can blame it on me I've been setting up gravestones in my hometown I wish I had been born at sea Then you wouldn't care, and you wouldn't know me Ebb and flow, they just won't carry me home It's only water and air as far as I can see

Hatred of Scala and his friends, then self-hatred, and "it's only water and air as far as I can see" being a reference to the Final World where Baldr surely ends up.

Mind Games by Sickick - Darkness to Baldr

Relevant lyrics:

Now that I'm in there's no letting go And your emptiness begins Once I grip onto your mind and soul Your brightness starts to dim

Once I'm in there ain't no letting go, letting go Watch me turn your mind into my home Mind, mind games until you lose control

A simple one, I imagine this being from Darkness' POV as it manipulates Baldr. The song begins with some ghostly audio too, like its Darkness speaking, which fits pretty well I think.

And that's it for Baldr. Note that I'm not really a big music person and I come across these songs randomly while just casually listening to whatever, so I don't know anything about the artists or what the songs are supposed to be about or anything. The lyrics just remind me of Baldr so here they are.

[minas-linkverse]

I'd love to know more about your story writing process! How do you come up with the characters personalities? How do you decide on a plot?

(I keep wanting to tell stories but I get overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices I'd have to make 😂)

Ooh goodness, I wish I had an easy answer to this myself... In my experience the first year (or easily more) is an endurance game where you desperately try to make it go faster. You're creating something out nothing, that's not easy. Often it starts with one idea, or simply a wish to make something specific like write a book. Then you start slowly collecting pieces that will float around aimlessly and frustrate you with how you like them but they just don't fit anywhere.

There's this endless doubt of if these pieces will ever fit together, because you don't LIKE what you come up with to connect them. It doesn't feel deep it doesn't feel complex. It's like trying to build a house but all you have is ton of twigs and a few rocks.

Are you capable of anything? Other artist seem to be flourishing with their incredibly stories and all you got are vague ideas... Oh the misery!

Er.

Or that's how it usually starts for me.

However, even though it's taken a million abandoned twigs, at some point you find a few that fit together. It's a small hope but it's there. Then it's followed by more... And it gets easier and easier. The moment you pass the first big hurdle it starts to make sense in a way it never did before, and then you're IN. Once in, there's still a frick ton of struggle, but you're there. There's no going back anymore, the endurance game is over and you can breathe.

...That's how it's been for me at least, altho with a lot of smaller variety in how it actually worked out which each bigger project. Sometimes you get to a point with something and feel like you hit a brick wall, and you have to move on for a little while and come back later. You have to just, keep with it. That's the hardest part.

............

Oh and I usually come up with personality, plot points, stuff like that by looking at myself and asking myself what I would like to see. What kind of plot lines in other media have interested me and why. It's really good to study the art form you're aiming to take part in, and to know yourself as well as you can.

[bumblebeeappletree]

Hannah visits a tiny yard in Melbourne’s inner-city that is bursting with ideas and productive plants.

Hannah's in Melbourne to visit an inner-city patch that's small on space but big on plants and style. Garden owners, Judy and Andreas Sederof, have transformed a challenging block into a productive patch that is filled with color year-round. Situated in Brunswick east near the Merri Creek, it's filled to the brim with plants and ideas in every inch of this 66sqm garden. Judy describes it as “pretty eclectic, pretty crazy... I just collect plants. I'll see a plant and I’ll love it.” The site has been designed with the house built on the back boundary to leave a bigger space for a garden out the front. The diversity of the garden highlights different types of plants, which take advantage of the various soil profiles. Judy says, “we have quite deep, productive soil here which was nurtured, adding compost and mulch, but it really was pretty good to begin with. Whereas this side of the garden is really all on rock, so it had to be built above the ground.” There’s a lot of colour in this garden and Judy says this is due to her background in design and interiors, “I just love color and I'm always changing the color pallets and getting it to work together.”

Judy and Andreas have been designing sustainable houses for 30 years and built their own with the aim of being light on the land. Andreas says, “the four critical elements are glass, mass, insulation and most importantly orientation. We chose this block because the house faces north which is the optimum angle for sustainable building design, often called passive design.” In this home, the ceiling has 2-feet of insulation which Andreas calls “super-insulation” as it’s double the standardised requirements. “Everything in here is double or triple glazed... and to get this house to 9.5 stars, we had to provide way more concrete or brickwork than this house was planned for,” says Andreas. The sustainable principles that underpin the house can also be found in the garden. Timber used in the wicking beds is Cypress macrocarpa, which is known to be a sustainable timber, and “things like not having any hard surfaces so that the land absorbs the moisture, and it doesn't heat up the building,” says Judy. Pipes direct grey water from the shower to the garden, as well as “two squat rainwater tanks underneath the deck here that are connected to a pump; they collect rainwater from the roof. We use that a lot in summer,” says Judy.

With no bare ground in the planting style, Judy says, “one of the things is to plant heavily so it keeps weeds down. They also provide quite a lot more moisture to the site, so I mulch, but I don't have to weed very often.” Much of the garden is edible, including flowers like nasturtium, marigold and viola. Judy says, “In summer I can grow some of the bigger vegies like eggplants and tomatoes. Over winter, there's more low growing brassicas and herbs.” Judy utilises tent structures and shed walls to grow vegies vertically, as well as wicking beds that were built by Andreas. “They're really high functioning wicking beds,” says Judy, “They store a lot of the moisture, and it wicks up in the soil. I just have to put a light sprinkling of water on top when I'm growing seeds but mostly the vegetables root down quite well.” Judy takes her love of designing interiors to the outdoors and uses a lot of recycled materials, including baskets from old vineyards repurposed as planters, and an eclectic mix of mirrors, sculptures and ornaments found in hard rubbish collections. “I do collect things... I do it innately, I don't think about it that much,” says Judy and in a cool temperate garden when many plants lose their leaves, having these elements really hold the garden together. Even though it's a small space, there's more than enough happening year-round to keep Judy actively planting, improving and making the most of her little productive inner-city sanctuary. “It's a connection with the Earth to me,” says Judy, “it really grounds me... it's very soothing.”

[bristolianbackpacker]

Day 27 - Puerto Maldonado and Lake Sandoval

This hotel has been such a lifesaver for us! Jack is still in the depths of the symptoms when we wake up. We grab some brekkie and I pack up our stuff as we need to move to our next hotel today.

I get picked up at 12:45pm for the trip to the lake. It’s a 10min taxi, 40min boat ride, 1 hour hike to the lake. Marco is my guide again which is a relief. He greets me with his usual directness “Benjamin, vamos!!”. Nice to see you too Marco, yes I’m feeling better thanks for asking 😂

Along the hike Marco explains a bit about this area. About 80 years ago a family moved in around the lake. They were involved in timber trade and cleared the area of a lot of its most valuable trees. They also participated in collecting tropical fruits to sell, fishing and farming. This has left the area looking quite different to Chuncho - much less primary forest here due to the clearing. The secondary forest that remains can eventually return to primary forest now that it is protected but it will take a longgg time naturally. The only big trees that remain are figs as nobody wanted their softwood. It was only made a national reserve about 20 years ago and the family have been allowed to remain. They now all work in the tourism industry (the five children of the original parents that moved in each have their own lodge on the lake). It feels a bit like this family have managed to monopolise the lake.

Before we even get out of the creek in the canoe Marco spots a caiman. This one is a black caiman which grows much bigger than the white caiman we spotted the other day at Chunchos. It’s only a juvenile though so 60-70cm long. It takes me so long to even spot him despite Marcos detailed instructions on how to find him. They camouflage so well and don’t move a muscle.

The lake is huge and so beautiful. The main aim is to spot one of the giant river otters that live here but there are only 6 (one family) so it’s difficult.

We spot a bunch of different birds - the Squirrel Cuckoo, two Stinky Birds, a Snake Birds (with its wings open to dry out after fishing), a Ringed Kingfisher and an eagle that nearly caught another bird.

Marco spots a huge 4m caiman through his binoculars. He theorises that it might be hunting the baby otters. Interestingly, the otters are the apex predators on the lake and will kill the caimans so it tries to kill off the babies whilst it still can before it becomes the prey. Unfortunately no luck spotting the otters, but I spend quite a while just watching it through the binoculars - it moves so fast but stealthily.

Aguaje palm trees surround the lake, there are home to macaws so later on before we leave we see them all returning from their days activities to nest for the night.

Time to paddle back, it’s starting to get dark so we briskly walk back through the jungle to get to the boat.

Whilst I’ve been away Jack has moved our stuff to the next hotel so I meet him there. It’s another fancy place compared to where we’ve been - hopefully we will be feeling well enough to actually enjoy it. We have dinner at the hotel as it’s a little outside of town and we need something convenient. It’s a three course set menu that is vegetarian only but it gets good reviews so we go for it. The food is nice but again it’s all so salty.

[genshinresource]

A little FYI regarding getting full size images from Tumblr posts

This mini guide mostly aims at anyone who’s new to Tumblr and isn’t familiar with its Dashboard view and Blog view. A bit late for this but it’s better late than never, right?

If you want to get an image in the highest resolution possible, click/tap the Eye icon in the top right corner of the respective post page (as shown in the below screenshot) to go to dashboard view:

This is recommended because sometimes the images you get from the “Open image in new tab” context menu when you’re in blog view (the fancy-looking interface when you go to <blog name>.tumblr.com) are downscaled quite a lot (noticeable in big images like wallpapers/illustrations while smaller ones like emotes and in-game assets aren’t affected), meanwhile you can get them in bigger size when you do the same thing in Dashboard view. Just click/tap the image you like to focus on it, then right-click/long-press and open it in a new tab.

How a post in Dashboard view looks like

HOWEVER, please note that Tumblr will still downscale extra big images even when you open them from Dashboard view, that’s why I’m considering sharing Drive links of future wallpapers/illustrations since I made a backup of my Genshin media collection there, that way you can get them in their original quality. I’ll let you know once I start to do that. Hope this helps.

[roselungs]

The Details

Do you know why people die when they are pierced by a bullet? Because 70% of the human body is made up of water Just as if you made a hole in a water tank.

Was it a random clash dancing at the head of the alley when I passed Or was there a sniper watching me and counting my final steps?

Was it a stray bullet Or was I a stray man even though I’m a third of a century old?

Is it friendly fire? How can it be When I’ve never made friends with fire in my life?

Do you think I got in the way of the bullet Or it got in my way? So how am I supposed to know when it’s passing and which way it will go?

Is an encounter with a bullet considered a crash in the conventional sense Like what happens between two cars? Will my body and my hard bones smash its ribs too And cause its death? Or will it survive?

Did it try to avoid me? Was my body soft? And did this little thing as small as a mulberry feel female in my maleness?

The sniper aimed at me without bothering to find out that I’m allergic to snipers’ bullets And it’s an allergy of a most serious kind, and can be fatal.

The sniper didn’t ask my permission before he fired, an obvious example of the lack of civility that has become all too common these days.

ـــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــ

I was exploring the difference between revolution and war when a bullet passed through my body, and extinguished a torch lit by a primary school teacher from Syria acting in cooperation with a Palestinian refugee who had paid with his land to solve anti-Semitism in Europe and been forced to emigrate to a place where he met a woman who was like memories.

It was a wonderful feeling, like eating an ice cream in winter, or having unprotected sex with a woman you don’t know in a city you don’t know under the influence of cocaine, or…

A passerby tells me half of what he wants to tell me so I believe him then we stab each other like two lovers, a woman beckons to me to follow her so I do and we have a child who looks like betrayal, a sniper kills me so I die, the sky falls on the passersby so the tourists flee, the sky falls on the passersby and my heart doesn’t flee, the sky falls upwards so a poet commits collective suicide in his room even though he was alone that evening.

That evening oblivion attacked me unawares, so I bought the memory of a soldier who hadn’t returned from war, and when and when I noticed the flaw in the time, I couldn’t find a place of exile appropriate to my wound so I decided not to die again.

The city is older than the memories, the curse is fenced in by melancholy, time is late for its appointments, walls enclose time with monotony, death looks like my face, the poet leans on a woman in his poem, the general marries my wife, the city vomits its history and I swallow the streets and the crowd swallows me, I, who distribute my blood to strangers, and share a bottle of wine with my solitude, beg you, send my body by express mail, distribute my fingers equally between my friends.

This city is bigger than a poet’s heart and smaller than his poem, but it is big enough for the dead to commit suicide without troubling anyone, for traffic lights to bloom in the suburbs, for a policeman to become part of the solution and the streets a mere background to truth.

That evening, when my heart stumbled, a woman from Damascus took hold of me and taught me the alphabet of her desire, I was lost between God whom the shaykh planted in my heart and God whom I touched in her bed, that evening, my mother was the only one who knew I would never return, my mother was the only one who knew, my mother was the only, my mother.

I sold my white days on the black market, and bought a house overlooking the war, and the view was so wonderful that I could not resist its temptation, so my poem deviated from the shaykh’s teachings, and my friends accused me of cutting myself off, I put kohl on my eyes and became more Arab, and drank camel’s milk in a dream and woke up as a poet, I was watching the war like lepers watch people’s eyes, and had arrived at frightening truths about poetry and the white man, about the season of migration to Europe, and about cities that receive tourists in peacetime and mujahidin in wartime, about women who suffer too much in peacetime, and become fuel for the war in wartime.

In a reconstructed city like Berlin lies a secret that everyone knows, which is that the… No, I will not repeat what is known, but I will tell you something you don’t know: the problem with war is not those who die, but those who remain alive after the war.

It was the most beautiful war I’ve been in in my life, full of metaphors and poetic images, I remember how I used to sweat adrenalin and piss black smoke, how I used to eat my flesh and drink screams, death with his scrawny body leaned on the destruction committed by his poem, and wiped his knife clean of my salt, and the city rubbed my shoes with her evening and the street smiled and the city counted the fingers of my sorrow and dropped them on the road leading to her, death weeps and the city remembers the features of her killer and sends me a stabbing by post, threatening me with happiness, and hangs my heart out on her washing line strung between two memories, and oblivion pulls me towards myself, deeply towards myself, deeply, so my language falls on morning, and balconies fall on songs, headscarves on kisses, back streets on women’s bodies, the details of alleyways on history, the city falls on the cemeteries, dreams fall on the prisons, the poor on joy, and I fall on memory.

When I became a member of the Union of the Dead, my dreams improved and I began to practise yawning freely, and despite the drums of war singing close to my bloated body I had plenty of time to befriend a stray dog, who chose not to eat from my corpse despite his hunger, and was content to sleep by my feet.

A number of people tried to pull me out of the way, but the sniper argued with his gun so they changed their minds, he was an honourable sniper, worked honestly, and didn’t waste time or people.

That little hole, Remaining after the bullet had passed through, Emptied me of my contents, Everything flowed out gently, Memories, Names of friends, Vitamin C, Wedding songs, The Arabic dictionary, The temperature of 37 degrees, Uric acid, The poems of Abu Nuwas, And my blood.

The moment the soul begins to escape through the little gate the bullet has opened, things become clearer, the theory of relativity turns into something self-evident, mathematical equations that used to be vague become a simple matter, the names of classmates we’ve forgotten come back to us, life is suddenly illuminated in perfect detail, the childhood bedroom, mother’s milk, the first trembling orgasm, the streets of the camp, the portrait of Yasser Arafat, the smell of coffee with cardamom inside the house, the sound of the morning call to prayer, Maradona in Mexico in 1986, and you.

Just as if you are eating your beloved’s fingers, or suckling from an electric cable, or being inoculated against shrapnel, just as if you are a memory thief, come, let’s give up poetry, exchange the songs of summer for gauze dressings and harvest poems for surgical thread, leave your kitchen and the children’s bedroom and follow me so that we can drink tea behind the sandbags, the massacre has room for everyone, put your dreams in the shed and give the plants on the balcony plenty of water, for the the discussion with iron may go on for a while, leave behind Rumi, Averroes and Hegel, and bring along Machiavelli and Huntington and Fukuyama, for we need them now, leave behind your laughter, your blue shirt and warm bed, and bring your teeth and nails and hunting knife, and come.

Throw away the Renaissance and bring on the inquisition, Throw away European civilization and bring on the Kristallnacht, Throw away socialism and bring on Joseph Stalin, Throw away Rimbaud’s poems and bring on the slave trade, Throw away Michel Foucault and bring on the Aids virus, Throw away Heidegger’s philosophy and bring on the purity of the Aryan race, Throw away Hemingway’s sun that also rises and bring on the bullet in the head, Throw away Van Gogh’s starry sky and bring on the severed ear, Throw away Picasso’s Guernica and bring on the real Guernica with its smell of fresh blood, We need these things now, we need them to begin the celebration.

— Ghayath Almadhoun, tr. Catherine Cobham

[halaahmed259]

More people will be able to visit the famous Medieval Citadel in Cairo because the government wants to attract more tourists to Egypt.

Egypt announced on Sunday that more people can now visit the Saladin Citadel in Cairo, which is an old fortress that is very tall. The government in Egypt says that the Citadel is a significant place for tourists to visit and is one of the most popular Islamic monuments in the city.

Cairo let more people visit a famous old castle called the Medieval Citadel. This is part of a bigger plan to make more tourists come to Egypt.

The Citadel of Cairo is a very old and big castle that was built a long time ago, in the year 1176. It was built by a strong leader named Salah al-Din al-Ayyubi, who also took over Jerusalem from the Crusaders in 1187.

Some parts of the Citadel have been open to people since 1983, but now they have opened even more sections after fixing them up. We have many fun Egypt tour Packages and Vacations that you can go on or Best Egypt Ports Shore Trips and have a great time visiting different places. This is all part of Egypt's plan to make more people visit and enjoy Egypt Excursion, which was started by Minister Ahmed Eissa.

The government's plan includes extending the average duration of visitors' Egypt Tours from one hour to at least three hours soon. This effort is part of a larger initiative to rebrand Cairo as a cultural destination, known as the 'Cairo City Break,'  with more details to be announced soon.

The expanded access to the Citadel coincides with the highly anticipated opening of the Grand Egyptian Museum later this year. The museum is a vast space of 484,000 square feet, housing an impressive collection of 100,000 artifacts in 12 exhibition halls.

Egypt has set ambitious targets for its tourism sector, aiming to double the number of visitors to the country within the next five years and to attract 30 million tourists by 2028. In 2020, Egypt welcomed 14.91 million tourists, and for 2024, Enjoy Egypt Easter Holidays, they usually visit important and famous places. the government has set a target of 18 million visitors.

Egypt has set ambitious goals for its tourism industry, aiming to double the number of visitors in the next five years, with a target of reaching 30 million tourists by 2028. In 2020, Egypt welcomed nearly 15 million tourists, and by 2024, they aim to increase this number to 18 million visitors. This growth aligns with the country's focus on enhancing its tourism offerings, Egypt Christmas Tours, Egypt Easter Tours, and Egypt Classic Tours, to attract a diverse range of travelers.

If you want to learn more about Egypt, read a special on  Egypt Travel Guide. It will tell you all about the whole country of Egypt.

[softeninglooks]

hinata and natsu | then vs now

when natsu was around 7 or 8, she would often ask hinata to teach her volleyball and play with her.

"oniisan!" the little redhead would pout expressively, hugging her brother's knee. "you're making it easier for me. i want to do it like you! i want to jump!"

hinata could only smile kindly at his sister's restlessness, gently escaping from her grip to hand her the ball instead.

"i'll let you jump," he would vow in his best brotherly and reassuring tone. "but first, i need to teach you how to spike properly, and for that we'll need to practice a little more before i send you higher tosses."

"but you'll teach me how to fly, won't you? promise?" natsu would ask hopefully, accepting to let go of her sulking as she squeezed the ball against her chest.

"yes, i promise."

hinata would notice just how big the ball looked against natsu's small frame. he would fondly watch her try to clumsily hit the tosses he sent her, wobbling on her tiny feet then collecting herself to straighten up again. he'd stand behind her, showing her how to hold herself up and how to receive, although he himself barely mastered it. to other players, he would think, he probably looked just as defenseless. yet he would prove them wrong. and so would natsu, he knew. he would teach her.

years later, not much has changed. natsu still comes to hinata for advice, though she has grown just as tall as him, if not even taller. not much has changed, they still play volleyball together—except both are professional players standing on a bigger stage.

"oniisan!" she would pout in the backyard of their parents' house, swiftly receiving the ball that shoyo just sent her way. "don't you dare go easy on me!"

"as if i could!" it would be hinata's turn to dive forward, managing to save the ball at the last moment. he would smile back at natsu, rapidly getting back into position while she was getting ready to jump—something she had learnt from him.

"teach me that beach volleyball move next!" she'd add eagerly, having barely had enough time to catch her breath. she would already run to her brother's side of the court, shoving the ball into his hands. "the one that goes like vlam!" she'd try to mimic shoyo's moves, which would have both of them laughing. they spoke the same idiosyncratic language, filled with the same passion for vollyeball.

"then you'll use it against me!" hinata would chuckle knowingly.

"isn't that what you do all the time?" she'd arch an eyebrow and he would have to plead guilty.

"alright, let's do this!"

in the end, no matter how big the stage they stood upon has got, very little has changed over the years. natsu had started playing volleyball because of her brother, and is still aiming to become just as good as he is, and even, better. in the little backyard of their childhood house, the siblings' shared love for volleyball lives on.

[kayleerowena]

Oh, if you wouldn’t mind questions— I was planning on trying to do a bit of a tour of cons over the summer, try things out while I’m off school, but I’m not entirely sure what a good starting number would be or where to start finding places to exhibit/how far ahead I need to apply.

i absolutely don't mind questions! i started out with doing 1-3 small cons and zine fairs a year, and nowadays i do 4-5. this year i did 3 big ones — flamecon in nyc, small press expo in maryland, and tcaf in toronto — and 2 small — brooklyn indie comics showcase in nyc & hallowzine in maryland. i think 1-3 is a good number to aim for when starting out!

bigger cons are usually much more expensive to table, especially if you have to travel for them. when i started tabling cons, i waited until i knew around how much money i could expect to make during a day of tabling before i started applying to any conventions where tables would cost more than $100. ideally, when you table you'll make back whatever money you spent on tabling/merch/printing/travel, and everything after that is a bonus! smaller conventions and zine fairs generally don't cost more than $20-30 to table at, in my experience, so if you find local ones it's easy to make your money back and get an idea of what items sell well, what you need to make more of, and etc.

zine fairs are a really good way to get started, in my experience. there's a couple places online that collect links to various zine fairs and comic cons — i don't know that any of them are always 100% complete or up-to-date, but here's a couple links:

printed matter

stencil.wiki (also includes application links for some upcoming cons!)

broken pencil

if you're in the nyc area and looking to do a larger convention, flamecon has always been a really good experience for me — and tables are (i think, usually) first-come-first-serve, rather than an application system with a jury, so it's easier to get in as a con beginner than juried conventions are, generally speaking. it's the first big convention i ever did, and i've done it three times now and had a blast every time! i'd still recommend doing a few smaller ones first, though, just so you get in the swing of things.

as for how far ahead to apply, that really depends on the convention. i'd recommend looking into conventions and zine fairs in your area and joining their email lists! bigger conventions generally start applications like 6 months before the con, while tiny zine fairs might not have applications open until a month beforehand. it really depends on the place and the people running it!

going to conventions and zine fairs even if you're not tabling is also a really good way to learn about more events happening in your area. you can bring zines or small comics to trade or give to people, too!

i also recommend following @howtobeaconartist — they've got a ton of useful resources and advice. hopefully this is helpful!