happy friday the 13th i’m celebrating by writing about that old man’s peen 😃
ok ik Dale is 50-60ish and his dick might not cooperate but I’m so sure he would go to great lengths to be able to fuck someone he wanted. Like I would think working for satan should come with bonuses like being young and able to fuck forever, but Dale’s been let down on everything else so far, maybe he’s only kept fit enough to carry out his duties. And even though imo he’d value actual companionship above sex, if he thinks he’s gonna get some he’s stopping at nothing to make sure it happens and he doesn’t ruin the relationship before it really happens by being unable to meet your expectations.
So anyway imagine he can’t get/keep it up. I feel like his first resort would be something like herbs with aphrodisiac properties (for the aesthetic) - he’s making tea, he’s making weird pastes or salves and applying them directly, he’s powdering and fucking snorting them. If that fails he’s digging up the crustiest dustiest books on magic he can find and poring through old wives tale after old wives tale, making up spell jars and drinking the nastiest concoctions all in an effort to feel all of you, to be able to please you as best he can.
And I think if he could get it up but not last he’s not above numbing cream. Would get unbelievably frustrated that his plan worked and he can’t feel enough, bc let’s be real he doesn’t do things by halves, even if he did get genital specific numbing cream he’s using wayyyy too much. Ends up numb for hours and practically sobbing into your shoulder as he grinds into you, both exhausted but he still can’t cum. When he finally does (maybe you get out a strap/top him) he has never been more satisfied with himself, both of you laid out sweaty and gross, smug little smile despite him still having tears and eyeliner down his face. He will be doing that again.
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Btw what would you recommend to watch or read as a starter for understanding Pink Floyd lore?
I would definitely start off with these two books:
Comfortably Numb: The Inside Story of Pink Floyd by Mark Blake
and
Inside Out: A Personal History of Pink Floyd by Nick Mason (<3)
I cannot tell you how many posts I've made that are derived from passages of these two books. Nick has the benefit of having been there, and he has sense of humor that literally made me laugh out loud many times while reading it, but Mark Blake has a bit more of an objective stance on events and adds details that nick wasn't willing to (such as their coke use in the 80's). They offer a good balance.
You can access pdfs of both of them here:
As for videos I'll defer to others' recommendations in terms of broader-scope floyd lore (e.g., a good documentary that's well-balanced and not weird about syd – any recs?).
The obvious answer would be to make sure you watch Live at Pompeii early on, or at least the accompanying interviews because that's where a LOT of the memes come from. (in general, the benefit of being a pink floyd fan is that they avoided the media so much that it doesn't actually take that long to catch up with Actual Footage of them – at least from while the band was active)
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What if Miles didn't save his dad and his universe collapsed anyway.
It'd happen so fast, one minute he's rushing to his dad and the next he's sprawled across the ground, shoved off course by someone.
(Miguel is an option but I like the idea it's just some random Spiderman.)
Miles 'canon' events happens but his universe still glitches, half of it falling into the Spot's holes as it does as the villain becomes more and more unstable.
1610 collapses in front of everyone, swallowed up by the ever growing pitch black holes, leaving only Miles Morales as it's lone survivor.
to say the boy would be a mess, would be more than an understatement, it wouldn't even come close enough to smell, let alone touch, the way Miles is feeling. but he wouldn't just be sad or gutted or hopeless or even broken after losing everything; he'd be angry.
if he allowed himself to be dragged from the glitching, fading rubble of his now barren dimension, he would rip HQ apart, piece by piece. he'd scream and cry and break down, his abilities turned up to 110, his electricity flowing out him without any control, lashing out at anyone who tried to invade his space, let alone tried to touch him or stop him.
I think he would come pretty close to taking down Miguel, he'd defiantly pin him, using his enhanced reflexes and sheer surprise to get the upper hand, before just snapping. he'd let loose on Miguel, physically yes, but he would scream at him. he'd shove his stupid canon theory back into his face, begging for an explanation; if he was supposed to let his dad die, if he was forced to, than why did he lose everything anyway?
he'd leave Miguel bloody, even in his fury, he won't kill him, he can't do it, but he will make him suffer. he wants answers, he wants so many answers, answers to questions he doesn't even know he has, and he needs Miguel for those.
once he burns up his anger and cries out his sadness, he's left numb and empty, frequently returning to his dimension to sit amongst what little remains of his home. it doesn't really hit him at first that everything is gone, he knows it is, but he just can't accept it, his mom, his dad, Ganke, his friends, the cashier at the bodega, all of them, they can't be gone. he didn't even get to say goodbye.
part of him knows, deep down, that he should have saved his dad, he should have been allowed to try, that they would be here if he had just gotten to try. call it insanity, desperate attempts at coping, grasping at straws, spidey senses, intuition, some higher intervention and knowledge, he has no fucking idea, he just knows, and it only fuels his anger.
he stops coming out of his "room" at HQ, stops letting people in, not even Pav and Hobie who have never wronged him, who were always on his side, let alone the others, who at one point or another abandoned him or saddled against him. he stops in general, stops eating, stops sleeping, stops trying to distract his mind with things like music. he loses it a few more times, tearing up whatever furniture he had been given to make up for his lack of a home, before turning to laying on the floor, looking up at the blank ceiling for hours, ignoring any of the desperate pleas from outside his door.
he cringes when he realizes he's just becoming Miguel. he ignores the thought. tries to at least.
he lies there and withers away until he can no longer fight the others off, till he's forced to let them take care of him, forced to listen to their apologies and their "it'll be ok"'s. he honestly doesn't care; everything that ever truly mattered to him is gone or tainted, he's lost his world, his people, his family, he lost his friends, he lost his purpose. he just floats through life, accepting that he's just gonna turn into someone like Miguel, cold and closed off, not really living, but not dead, and he's "ok" with that, more so, he doesn't have the care nor energy to be more than that anymore. he accepts his fate, for once, cause its clear that trying to do anything else only get him and the people he loves hurt.
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ereani wip -- the confession
a/n: I'll do something with this scene, for sure. Posting for now b/c I like the simplicity of it & rebuilding AoT's mythos is a lot trickier than depicting simple, emotional drama. once again shoutout to @lunarcrystal for these indomitable brainworms, you rock.
Her fist caught him on the mouth, knocked his head back. She got on top of him, fist in his shirt where she'd cut her knuckles. This was less than what he deserved. To see him spitting up blood and unable to explode in on himself, designated to the same human frailty as anyone else, you selfish son of a bitch, I thought you were dead—
Breathing hard, despite the lack of exertion. Eren, wide-eyed and silent. Trickle of blood from his lip, split. She lowered her fists, bowing down and sinking her teeth into the wound. He took her face in his hands and answered with the rapacious fever of a man ready to die. She threaded fingers through his unkempt hair, her tongue slashing against teeth. He grabbed her chin and slid his tongue into her mouth. They could only get so close without trying to devour each other.
Inevitably, Eren pushed her back. Inhaling, exhaling, as if he could redirect some blood to his brain. She stood up while he looked around for the crutch, at last hoisting himself to sit on the edge of the mattress, shoulders tense.
“After you left,” he said, “I used to dream about you. What I'd say, if I could.”
“That was a long time ago,” she intoned. Eren smiled in a way that didn’t touch his eyes. He wasn't looking at her directly. “You still don’t know how to talk to girls.”
He rolled his shoulders. “You could teach me.”
Annie said, “You’re out of your mind.”
Eren studied her, impassive. A far cry from the cadet of fifteen who couldn’t stop running his mouth.
“I’m out of my mind, that much is true.” He stared at the blood on her mouth. “Most days I wake up and try to convince myself I’ve always lived in this tenement. Perhaps, in such a life, I could have met you. We’d take a train out of Liberio, somewhere nicer, where we could just—talk.” Averting his eyes to a spot beside her head, a slight catch in his voice. “But it won’t change anything, will it?”
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