#believe it or not going bald is not limited to old men

[evanox]

i can’t believe LL fandom had to go over the “LL team wrote Sage’s response to everything that happened in the timeskip rather realistically and it’s unfair to his character to throw fits about a traumatized person not being the same person you once fell in love with” conversation just so that today i have to read “i wish sage comes back; the real sage not the timeskip sage” with my own eyes

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

"We should start back. They’re all dead."

“Looks like it,” Pyro said.  But he sent one more jet of flame scouring across the charred bodies piled in front of him, just in case.

Fucking Brood.  It was nice to be fighting something so far removed from human that even the holier-than-thou X-Men had given him and Shaw blanket permission to pull no punches.  Sometimes he just wanted to torch things without tip-toeing around Krakoan law, or even his own budding conscience.  But damn if the creatures didn’t make his skin crawl. 

The way they could just burrow deep down inside you, and you’d never know until they tore your body apart from within, and there was fuck all anyone could do about it.  He shuddered. 

“Actually, Allerdyce, I….may have….spoken prematurely…..”  There was a definite strain in Shaw’s voice, and Pyro whirled around, to find that the large man had fallen to his knees, one hand clasped over his stomach.  The flesh underneath Sebastian’s fingers writhed in a way that made Pyro want to vomit.

“Much as I hate to say so, it appears that….I am in need….of your unique brand of violence.”  Shaw’s face had gone milk-white, and he spoke through gritted teeth.  “How hot can you make fire?”

“Hot enough to melt most metal.  Stone, even.” 

“Make it….hotter than that.  Understand?  I want you…..to strain yourself to the absolute limit…..You must….burn this creature…out of me.  I trust that there will be no…..squeamishness or….misguided mercy on your part.”

“You trust right,” Pyro said, raising the flamethrower.

“Be….thorough, Allerdyce.  And if….it doesn’t work….I believe you can make those flames of yours….solid.  A spear of flame….directly through the eye socket…..into my brain.  That will do it.  Put me down before you…..let that creature….take me.”  Sebastian doubled over, his face frozen in agony. 

“No worries there.”  Pyro gave a grim smile.  “I’ll see you right, one way or another.” 

And then he let loose.  It was almost like the “good old days” with the Brotherhood, trying to see if he could melt Colossus just for the challenge of it, before everything had gone to shit for their team and he had wasted away in a fog of sickness and confusion and regret. 

The good old days, when he could cheerfully commit murder without thinking about it too much.

Sebastian was a shadow under the lovely, orange-gold flame that blazed hotter and hotter, turning blue and white as Pyro gritted his teeth in concentration.  The sand under Shaw’s knees bubbled, and the one tree in Pyro’s field of vision, several yards away, burst into flame.  Fine, more fuel to pull from.  He swept the extra fire towards Sebastian’s vague shape, and made it hotter, hotter, and hotter still. 

There was a sound over the roaring of the flames, like a high, keening wail, that prickled up and down Pyro’s spine.  He saw Sebastian lurch forward, and then another shape emerging.  Pyro could barely see, but he could have sworn that something black and misshapen was scrambling out of Sebastian’s mouth.

The black, misshapen thing then jumped away, completely seperated from Shaw, but it didn’t get far, on account of also being on fire.  It thrashed in the sand, still keening, as it’s limbs crumbled to ash, then finally lay still. 

Pyro let go of the fire, and it guttered out as his head began to throb.  This kind of strain, he’d have an intense migraine for the rest of the day.  Shaw still looked worse, with his clothing and hair burned entirely away, and his body caked in ash.  Yet somehow, the man stirred, and staggered to his feet. 

“…t …ck” Shaw muttered. 

“What?”  Pyro asked.

And then Sebastian swung his fist down at the burned creature in the sand, and there was a crack like thunder, and when Pyro was able to think again he realized he was sprawled in the sand several feet away, now sore over his entire body, and the migraine still gaining ground.

“The fuck was that?!”  Pyro demanded.

“All that thermal energy had to go somewhere,” Sebastian said.  Even scorched bald, with his sideburn-less face oddly bare, and not a stitch of clothing on, Shaw still managed a haughty expression.  “I told you to get back.”         

“You’re bloody welcome,” Pyro said snidely. 

“Ah yes……I suppose gratitude is in order.”

“Not holding my breath on that.”

“The fact is, Allerdyce, I am a man who pays my debts.  And I would greatly prefer not to owe you a favor.  So as soon as we return to Krakoa, I’ll write you a check for a reasonable amount.”

Pyro considered this.  “I prefer cash.”

“You’d ask ask for stock options if you had any sense, but very well.  As much cash as you can carry.” 

After another moment’s consideration, Pyro realized how easily this particular wording could screw him over.  “And that had better be all in large bills!”

The negotiations continued as they staggered back towards the gate together.  Behind them, the molten sand where Sebastian had knelt cooled into glass.    

[adultswim2021]

The Young Person’s Guide to History #1: “Part 1” | October 26, 2008 - 12:00AM | S01E01

Well, this symbolizes a bit of a personal failure on my part. The task at hand: try to scare up copies of the original version of The Young Person’s Guide to History, which was originally planned as 4 quarter-hour episodes. One of those original four episodes actually aired as part of an April Fools stunt. All of them were available on adultswim.com briefly in their original form. It was a limited time thing, and I knew of one guy who actually ripped them from the site, but deleted them before anyone thought to ask him for them. I’ve emailed upwards of TWO people who seemed accessible who I felt MIGHT have copies of the originals but got no response. I did WATCH them, and I SORTA remember them, so I’ll do my best to talk about what I remember being cut.

The way they edited four episodes into two is they roughly cut each of the quarter-hour episodes in half, so two episodes were edited into one episode with two distinct segments. This one starts with what would have been episode 1, set in 1776. Thomas Jefferson cleaves off a chunk of skin off his chest which turns out to be the Declaration of Independence. War is declared by King George. Paul Revere announces that the British are coming on his bike, but gets hit by Thomas Jefferson’s car. He, Ben Franklin, and Alexander Hamilton head to a motel where the revolutionary war is happening just outside their door. The scene where Jefferson takes a leak outside while soldiers gun each other down is one of the few that I remember distinctly taking longer. They loop it twice in this cut, but the original looped it for longer. 

Jefferson spots three war nurses in another motel room, so he stabs Hamilton to feign a medical emergency to get into their room. Franklin joins them and they all party together. A disgruntled old man angrily knocks on their door to voice a noise complaint, and Jefferson goes psycho on him, leaving his corpse on the entryway. In the morning, he’s told by George Washington that the man he killed was actually King George, winning the war for America. The hungover Jefferson barely cares. The episode ends with a little shot of him on some ski slopes, looking patriotic. This is another bit I remember from the original cut: at full length, this segment actually ended with all the characters skiing while credits rolled. 

Other things worth mentioning: Eddie Peppitone is in this as a guy on the senate floor, heckling Benjamin Franklin. Also, there’s a part in the episode where we see Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin fighting over Franklin’s suitcase. After the credits we are treated to a scene that actually took place before that, where the case is open, and it’s actually a time portal where future Ben Franklin pops out and shares inventions with his past self. I am pretty sure using that bit as a post-credits scene was just for this version of the show, and we originally saw this before Franklin walked in and got mad at Jefferson for opening his case. 

The second segment is 1782, titled “The Great Seal of the United States”. This one is about Jefferson feuding with a French nobleman over the animal superiority of their respective nations. Jefferson insists that America’s symbol is a Garlon, an animal he is making up on the spot. He claims it’s as big as a building, and has a face filled with buildings. Jefferson and co try to go up in a hot air balloon for reasons, and they get knocked out of the sky by an airplane.

The Frenchman’s rooster rescues Franklin and Hamilton very heroically, but pays with its life. Jefferson has escaped injury and gone mad in the woods. One thing leads to another, and Jefferson and the nobleman have a pathetic underpants slap fight in the woods, with Jefferson believing he’s a wolf and the nobleman believing he’s cock. The fight ends when they spot a magnificent bald eagle, which Jefferson shoots and kills. The two men break bread over the freshly cooked “Garlon”, but Franklin gets pissed off that they are calling it the wrong thing and leaves. Also of note: George Washington is seated with a prostitute. They are shown as being something of a "couple", and they show up at the end of the April Fools edition of "The Duel".

My main complaint about Saul was how much of it felt like filler, and how the show would be better if it were cut in half. That maybe true; these feel slight, and of all the low-budget crap Adult Swim has aired this feels the most like flagrant trash. But there are some things in it that are mildly amusing. Will Forte is in the second short. The partying with nurses scene has some funny stuff in it. And I can’t be fully mad at a show about American history that is just casually anachronistic and generally incorrect. Most historical comedy shows make jokes aimed at smart people who are history nerds. This isn’t that, which is the best thing it has going for it. The fact that none of it is clever makes it at least a little charming. I hesitate to call it a good show, but I think there’s some worthwhile ideas here.

[autolovecraft]

What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed?

That he was not an evil man. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb. He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture, he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. Great heavens, Birch, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you always did go too damned far! The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness. His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom step of his grim device, Birch cautiously ascended with his tools and stood abreast of the narrow transom. And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. The skull turned my stomach, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly. Birch returned over the coffins to the door. Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks.

In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb. Great heavens, Birch, just as I thought!

He was a scoundrel, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste. In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. At any rate he kicked and squirmed frantically and automatically whilst his consciousness was almost eclipsed in a half-swoon. At any rate he kicked and squirmed frantically and automatically whilst his consciousness was almost eclipsed in a half-swoon. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. Clutching the edges of the aperture, he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness. I live. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner. God, what a rage! It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the tomb. You know what a fiend he was for revenge—how he ruined old Raymond thirty years after their boundary suit, and how he had been certain of it as the Fenner coffin in the dusk, and how he had chosen it, how he had distinguished it from the inferior duplicate coffin of vicious Asaph Sawyer. I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the overhead ventilation funnel virtually none at all; so that he was reduced to a profane fumbling as he made his halting way among the long boxes toward the latch.

For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight. Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it. God, what a rage! In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. That he was not an evil man. It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. In another moment he knew fear for the first time that night; for struggle as he would, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made.

[literarygoon]

So,

Celista had never seen anything like it, even in the most grandiose cathedrals of Europe.

It had taken her and Ellis nearly two hours to descend the narrow slope before them, which knifed into a looming cliff face that blocked out the Shuswap sun. The mountain before them disappeared into the sky far above where she stood gawking and transfixed, a slumbering stone giant silhouetted against the baby blue. She’d seen mountains like this from her aeroplane during her flight across Canada, their proud stone summits bald and untouched by humanity. Somehow it was more impressive to see one at eye level, to feel its awesome immensity from the ground. It reminded her of school days, when she’d learned about Mount Olympus and all the titans that dwelled there. 

For the last twenty minutes of the descent she’d had to step through the tangle of fat tree roots obstructing their path like lazy pythons, swiping branches from her face and scratching through knee-high scrub bushes. Now suddenly the ground was bare, and before her was an astonishing and intricate crimson mural that reached out of sight. At its centre was a thick undulating serpent, twisting vertically, with clusters of tiny figures and symbols crowded on either side. Interrupted only by the occasional patch of moss or a deep crack in the stone, the blood-coloured paint almost seemed to be slithering up the wall while she watched. Her breath caught in her throat, her mouth agape, and the world around her went quiet. She felt like she was in the presence of something far beyond her comprehension.

“That’s where we’re going, m’ lady. This map is hundreds of years old, they say.”

Celista blinked in confusion. “Map?”

“That right there, that’s the Adams River,” he said, pointing at the snake. “They’ve drawn out every twist and turn, every eddy, all the way from where it begins up north to where it empties into Shuswap Lake. The accuracy is incredible, actually. They say it took them over a hundred years to complete.”

“And the paint, it doesn’t wash away?”

Ellis smiled, walked over to the stone, and cracked at the cliff wall with his hatchet. The paint remained undisturbed. “These are pictographs, and the Tribe of the River Eel have been using them for generations beyond count. It tells the story of their people, both their past and their future. This paint will outlive both you and I. They use ochre, mixed with fish oils, and it’s longer lasting than any paint white men have ever created.”

Celista shook her head in wonder. “And who is that?” she asked. “That figure on the tree trunk, with the long arms? Who does that represent?”

Ellis smiled proudly, gazing affectionately at the pictograph ten feet above their head. Surrounded by smaller stick figures, some of them draped spread-eagle across the top of the floating trunk, the ominous red man’s pointed knees reached up to his shoulders while he speared two paddles into the rippling water beneath him. He was spider-like and eyeless, and just looking at him gave Celista a quick shudder of foreboding. 

“That is Nanor, or at least one version of him. He’s a shapeshifter of myth. The Tribe of the River Eel believe that it’s him that accompanies each new soul beyond the limits of death, paddling them beyond the limits of our reality. He takes them to join the countless generations that have descended into the Adams River to begin their new life amidst the tumult and chaos of the rapids. They believe that the souls of their ancestors live inside the water, and direct its flow. The river provides them with everything they need during life, then welcomes them into its arms after death.”

“That’s their religion?”

He shook his head. “The Tribe of the River Eel don’t have a religion, not in the way you and I understand it. You could say that the river is their God, but in their language there is no word for God. There’s no word for Heaven or Hell either. There’s only the river, and its messenger — Nanor. He is the bridge between this present moment, and eternity.”

“But isn’t he evil?”

Ellis laughed, and slung his backpack over a nearby branch. “Another concept that doesn’t exist in their worldview. Is the bear evil for eating the salmon? Is the eagle evil for catching its prey in its talons? Each being has its nature, its role within its environment. If there was no Nanor, some other being would have to take his place.”

Celista was still digesting this alien information as Ellis clambered further up the trunk, his movements effortless and languid. Again she marvelled at the fact that this was the same derelict who had wandered into her clearing the night before, seemingly starving and near death. Now he swung from one branch to the next like an acrobat, his muscles straining against his flannel shirt. Once he’d reached a spot twenty feet above his head, he leaned heavily until the entire tree drooped toward the cliff face in submission. With one outstretched palm he cupped a small protruding red stone, then turned it decisively to the right with a crack.  

“What are you doing?” Celista asked, noting that the stone he’d turned was at the centre of a pictograph of the sun. 

“This, right here, is the secret key.”

Years later, when society would know her as the world-famous Lady Celista Spencer, she would think back to this moment as a pivotal hinge in her life. If her initial trek across the Atlantic had been the moment she transitioned from girl to woman, this was when she fully embraced her future role as an explorer and author. It was about fear management — as a pitch-black hole appeared in the rock, its cleverly disguised stone door swinging into the darkness, she clearly saw the two choices before her: she could turn back now, and never understand what lay beyond, or she could trek forward with Ellis and experience whatever life had in store for her. It wasn’t a choice for her, really. Remaining ignorant would be intolerable; comfortable normalcy was not what she wanted out of her life. Even if it killed her, she had no choice but to soldier forward. 

Ellis dropped from the tree with a thump, and gave her a lascivious grin. He retrieved his backpack and pulled it over his shoulders, then motioned toward the doorway. For a moment she thought she saw flames in his eyes, his sun-reddened face glowing with perspiration. 

“If you’re afraid, I could take you back to the winery. We could be home by sunset,” he said.

“No,” she replied. “I mean to see this through.”

He chuckled happily, and swept his arm toward the entrance. “After you, m’ lady.” The Literary Goon

[adulterouswife]

Rules

Apparently, some of you have no filter or common sense, so I need to add the following ground rules. More rules will be added if necessary. Anyone not following the rules gets banned:

I WILL NOT SHARE PICS OR VIDS OF MYSELF. Stop before you ask. It doesn't matter what you want to see, I ain't showing it, so stop.

Please don't ask if I do anal. I know women who enjoy it, but I'm definitely not one of them. Yes, I've tried it. Enough times to know it's not for me. At best I'll let someone lick or gently massage my ass, but that's it.

I'm old enough to have two adult children but not old enough for AARP. Don't ask for my age or any details about my personal life beyond my slutty adventures.

I'm 5'4", with 38DD (natural) tits, 32" waist, 34" hips, and shoulder length brown hair. I sometime shave my pussy bald, but I usually have a trimmed landing strip and shave the rest. I rarely wear panties, when I'm home I'm usually in jeans and a tshirt, and when I'm on the prowl or with other men I usually wear something sexy.

I live somewhere in the Southwest USA. If you think I'll share more details, kindly kick rocks.

This is the only place I share my thoughts and encounters on. Nowhere else. Don't ask if I have another site, social media page, etc.

I only chat here. Don't ask for snap, whatsapp, phone number, etc.

I chat when I can. I have a life outside of this, believe it or not. I know there are a ton of men out there who get crazy when they get a response, so please, stop being thirsty, slow your roll, and wait in line. If I don't respond as quickly as you like, kindly wait while I finish work, talk to my kids, drink my coffee, fuck my hubby, or fuck my friends... not necessarily in that order. Or, you can always go kick rocks.

I'm kinky, but like everyone else I have limits. When I tell you you've crossed a line, kindly respect that I will not discuss it further. Or, you can kick rocks. I'm not into kids, fucking corpses, being a corpse, animals, scat, and countless other things. I'll tell you what I like and what I don't, so leave it at that.

In general, don't be an asshat. This southern gal is nice to a point. And I have a short fuse.

[secretsniper2]

Just a “Touch up”

You always wanted to do something outlandish, all the other girls had gotten something done and bragged about it non stop, it was driving you crazy! So you decided to get something done yourself, nothing major, just a touch up. So now you sit in the doctors office talking with the man who would be operating on you, you explain that your only looking for a light touch up to your face so your friends will notice instantly. The doctor explained that at 19 years of age “there wouldn't really be much they could do” but you were adamant that you get it done. Date set for 2 weeks away you cant wait!

Time flew past with more of the same, your friends bragging and you roll your eyes every time, your certain they will envy your face when your job is done. The date finally arrives and you head to the clinic to get started. Sitting in the waiting room your not alone, there is a creepy guy with a green hat, sitting in the corner, every time you look over at him he is staring at you. “can i help you?” you ask and he stands and walks to the counter, asks for something and is given a grey folder and a pen, taking both to his seat he begins to fill out a form. “bit late to fill that out” you think to yourself, oh well. A Nurse walks into the waiting room with a piece of paper, “Layla!” she calls and you stand and follow her into the room.

Walking through the single door you notice the main table in the middle of the room, and a few covered tables to the side, at the other end of the room is a wide double door your unsure why they need 2 doors for 1 side and a single door on this side.. “ehhh” you think to yourself as the Nurse gives you your gown to change into and as your the only 2 in here you strip down and put your light blue hospital gown on. it barely goes past your pussy! Tying it on securely your just in time for the surgeon to walk in with 2 folders, 1 blue and the other grey like the man in the waiting room. Flicking through both folders he leads you to the table to begin your surgery.

Laying down on the table it feels weird, like the table itself can be pulled apart due to how it shifts beneath you, its certainly not all in 1 piece. The surgeon begins drawing lines on your face where he will be doing his work, as you had discussed. Looking up to the ceiling you see a camera pointed right at you, clearly for medical reasons you feel more lines get drawn on you.  Taking a needle from a shelf he explains “this shot will feel weird and you may get confused, its to ensure you don't feel pain”. Holding out your arm your given the shot, it feels warm as you lower your arm back onto the table, the warmth spreading through your body, its pleasant at least, the warmth flowing up to your head and your hit with the confusion he mentioned. If you were standing you would fall over instantly, but your laying down so your head just rolls to a side, completely relaxed. As the warmth continues to roll down your body it hits your tight pussy and you start to feel a little aroused, at least your legs are closed but with this gowns length its only a matter of time before your lips start showing your arousal.

Continuing down your legs your toes go numb as the warmth hits them, it tickled at first but now you notice you cant move your arms either, you begin to breathe faster as you learn just how little you can move, its just your head! everything under your neck is completely still. Acting as if nothing is wrong the surgeon walks up and puts a headpiece on your face, bit weird as that's where your getting work done, and all you can see is darkness, nothing else. your body tingling all over from the shot earlier and with your vision limited your sense of touch has increased, your now acutely aware of the hairs on your arms standing up, it is cold in here though but your beginning to panic a little.

A sudden burst of light floods your eyes and after a few blinks you see yourself, from the camera hanging over your body, you see everything, almost the whole room! Worse still you see what the lines on your forehead are, he wasn't tracing out lines, he was writing “Fuckslut” on your forehead! examining your body from this perspective you can see your bald pussy peeking out of the gown, raising your arm for the shot must have pulled the gown up! your pussy is exposed! you can see the glistening from your arousal which has only gotten worse since it started, a hand reaches out and grabs your thigh. the surgeons unwanted touching makes you sick, but your pussy just cries out for more touches and you hate that your body is reacting positively.

Walking up beside your body he reaches out and grabs your breast “what the fuck” you think angrily! who does this guy think he is?! as he squeezes your perky C cup breast, moving to the other and repeating after a minute, leaving both your breasts a little sore but your nipples have reacted to the abuse and you can already see them poking against the gown. your head flooding with shame as you see them get harder and harder as his hand snakes its way up to your smooth neck and holds your throat. caressing your skin he loops his hand under the neck of the gown and to your horror, pulls hard and you feel the tight knots you did earlier come undone as the gown soars off your now completely naked body!

You cant believe what your seeing, your 19 year old body laying flat on the table with nothing covering you, your nipples reacting even more as they get even harder than they were seconds before, and your pussy is drooling with need, your humiliation has only begun and you know it. Watching in horror as the hand moves from your neck, sliding down your smooth skin to once again grasp your breast, your nipple being pinched hard this time, you hear him say “this size wont do, ill have to fill them out a bit” and worse still, you hear another unseen man say “you have the chart, make it happen” your eyes scanning the room as much as you can see, but you cant find the source of the second voice! Movement draws your eyes back to the hand as it slides easily over your smooth, flawless skin and glides over your pussy and fingers dip between your lips. Fluid now flowing out as he probes your most private area with his fingers, expertly drawing more and more fluid from you, clearly knowing what he is doing as he brushes across your clit forcing sharp sensations to stab your mind.

Pulling your legs open you see a separation in the table and sure enough the surgeon separates them, putting a brace on the inside section he opens them wider, catching your ankles in the process, and as the table continues to widen, so do your legs. Pussy now completely accessible now to even the most aimless of people, the surgeon brings a covered cart over to you and upon removing the cloth your witness to needles and a scalpel among other tools. Your terror reaching new heights as a needle is taken, full of a pink liquid it is moved straight for your clit, eyes almost bulging out of your head as the tip sinks into your precious bulb, but no pain, at least he was honest about that. Pushing the tip in further you see him injecting the fluid inside your clit and it actually begins to bulge, blood flooding to your nub forcing it to grow out, pushing its hood aside it now sitting out, you cant stop looking at it, its 3 times bigger than what it was!

A flash of steel and your eyes dart to the cause, the surgeon holding the scalpel now moves in on your engorged clit, slicing from the base and moving to the tip you see blood and you have no idea what he is doing to you.. placing a cup over your clit you see him attach a pump to the end, its a suction cup! you feel him pumping away your sensitive clit moving further away from your body, so sensitive the pumping continues will its 8cm out of your hood, then its bandaged to keep it out and exposed, “if she messes up you can grab her by her clit now and lead her anywhere you want” you look at your once adorable clit, you think “i could give my clit a fucking handjob now!” and its almost big enough too. pumped full of blood the sensitivity is through the roof, and because of the fluid he injected your clit with its completely rigid and standing straight out, not bending at all..

Taking 2 more needles from the cart he aims them for your exposed labia, penetrating them your injected with a blue liquid this time, and you feel a instant burning in your pussy as he injects you multiple times around your pussy and even your inner lips get 4 injections. Heat burning away as your arousal forced your pussy to clench and fresh juice squirts out, not a orgasm but it may as well have been, your so desperately horny now and there's nothing you can do! Watching in terror as he gets more needles and walks over to your breasts, 1 needle in the tip of your nipple and the orange fluid is injected followed by the burning sensation in your breasts, “experimental drugs are illegal but im sure you dont mind right” “not at all” the 2 men agree. both your breasts are burning from the inside as you feel them growing! you can almost see it happening right in front of your eyes, your C’s are growing to D’s!

Whatever the injections were they work fast and your not liking this at all! Taking a device from the table your pussy is opened up as he looks inside. “not a virgin” your surgeon says then a very long needle is inserted in your pussy. reaching far inside he hits the entrance to your womb and injects another drug, “what's going to happen to my poor womb?!” you think “there we go” he says, “she should be hypersensitive to touch now” not waiting for a invitation he touches your clit and you orgasm on the spot, from a simple touch! “now for her ass!” you hear him say as you come back down from the orgasm, a brown liquid filled needle is jabbed into your asshole and your filled once again with a burning sensation, likely being made hypersensitive like the rest of you. Looking to your breasts for a moment your stunned at the DD set your now carrying! your breasts are huge!

“Care to sample the goods?” your asshole of a surgeon says and you see him, a green hat moves into your sight, its that guy from the waiting room! You watch as he pulls his cock out and stands between your open legs and pushes into your soaked pussy! forcing 3 orgasms simultaneously from you as he thrusts in, pushing straight into your womb pulling a further 5 orgasms out of you! your mind is going numb already! you have never cum so many times so fast! your sure no woman has in history and yet here you are, a slave to the orgasmic hell these men have forced on you.. The man in the hat pulls out to your entrance again and thrusts once again straight to your womb, so many orgasms you only thought it “kill meee..” as even your voice in your head trails off in the pleasure. As he slams his length into you your clit gets rammed hard by his body and your rewarded with another 6 orgasms! “its not possiblee-ohmyfuckinggod!” you think as your mind melts through your gushing pussy!

After what seemed like a eternity of orgasmic hell, having well over 50 orgasms the man in the hat moves to your chest, hopping on you he slides his cock in between your DD breasts and begins thrusting hard, you have given a titjob before but it never feels this good! your already cumming just from having him fuck your tits! and he clearly enjoys his time as you feel a splash on your face and mouth as he cums on you. “can we make that more fun for the slave too?” he says, your mind stopping at the word “slave” what did he mean by that? your name is Layla for gods sake! you came in here for a touch up and your being transformed into a cum crazy slave?! you watch as a clear liquid filled needle is brought over to your face, your mouth is opened with no resistance, and your tongue is jabbed and filled with the fluid. “this will ensure the she enjoys giving you head as much as you enjoy receiving it” he said with a laugh!

Your mouth burning as the surgeon returns you your pussy and grabs your clit hard and begins playing with it, forcing you to cum instantly with each stroke, having a further 12 orgasms pulled from you in seconds and he is still going! your eyes roll back into your head as you cum wildly! your mouth still open from the injection some of the mans cum drips into your now open mouth and lands on your tongue, you never did like the taste of cum but this was different.. though you cant move it the cum just slides over your sensitive tongue and you can taste it, somehow you love it! it tastes amazing!, hearing something click your head drops backwards as your eyes look down at your body through the camera once more, the green hat man is lining up your throat for some fucking. Nothing you can do but watch this man fuck your throat, as his cock enters your mouth it pushes your tongue to the floor of your mouth, and you can taste his cock in detail. “s-so tasty!!” your mind screams as he begins pumping down your throat!

“i think were almost done here!” the surgeon says loudly and you hear a grunt of agreement from the man as you feel his hot load pump into your throat as he pulls out, raising your head back up and locking the table back in position, the surgeon stops pulling orgasms from you as he releases your hypersensitive and overstimulated clit, you couldn't count how many times you came if you wanted to.. Watching as the man in the green hat beings a bag over, he pulls some small devices out and places them beside you, “how long will she be paralyzed?” he asks as he does, “5 hours at least.” the surgeon replies, “5 hours of immobile hell?! fuck!” you think. Watching as the man places 2 devices on either side of your nipples and tapes them there you recognise them as vibrators.. “the sick fuck is going to keep making me cum?” you scream mentally.. a thick dildo is placed between your tits and turned on, it feels amazing already!

Watching in fear as a series of vibrators are stuck to your solid clit, covering it completely. A long dildo is pushed right into your pussy and into your womb, pulling more orgasms from you, and finally a scary long dildo is pushed inside your virgin ass, the sensation is incredible for your first time, you can feel it as it moves further and deeper inside you. a foot of rubber cock now fills your tight ass! you can see your pussy gaping open as the dildo doesn't even stick out a little, the man pulls a pair of panties from the bag. black and shiny you realize its a latex lined chastity belt. pushing your clit through the large hole in the front, the panties push completely against you, orgasming immediately as the latex hits your pussy, form fitting almost as it hugs your hips perfectly, metal on the outside you see him lock them on and lower a weird ring around the base of your clit and snapping it shut locking your clit in the belt. At the push of a button your whole body cums instantly as every vibrator activates at seemingly max power!

8, 20, 36, 53.. orgasms every few seconds as your clit visibly shakes as each vibration quakes your mind and body, your pussy and ass vibrating furiously as the tip of the cock in your womb wrenches more orgasms out of you. in the first 10 seconds you have already lost count of not only how many times you came, but also where you are! “my name……. is.. Laylaaaaaaahhhhhhh” your mind dribbles out, “fuuuck-ohmygodnooo!!” you would be screaming if you could. Your mask is removed and your eyes dart around looking at the man in the face clearly. you burn his face into your mind as the man who stole your life, but with his large beard you cant make out much! “FUCK! im cuuuuuuhhh..“ your mind trails off. countless orgasms pulled out of your body as the wheels on your table are unlocked and you learn why there are 2 doors on 1 side of the room, its to fit the table.. wheeled through the doors you see a carpark, and your new ride.. a car boot. Your body is folded up with the surgeons help and your bound into a doll almost, still cumming furiously as your placed in the boot of this mans car and locked inside.

Its dark inside, your body still cumming and you cant move even if you wanted to.. a life of sexual slavery at the hands of this man.. You wanted a Touch up, and now this man is going to touch you up any time he wants..

[introvertguide]

Influential Directors of the Silent Film Era

Upon hearing that I am a fan of silent era film, people will ask if I have a favorite actor or movie from the time period. However, when I am asked about my favorites from other fans of silent film, it tends to involve my favorite director. This is because silent film actors had to over gesticulate and performed in an unrealistic way and could not use their tone or words to convey emotion. The directors also did not have a way to review as they shot and would have to use editing skills and strategic cover shots to make sure that everything was done properly and come out the way they imagined it. It was up to the director to be creative and they were forced to be innovative and create ways to convey their vision. Luckily for many average or poor directors of the time, audiences were easily impressed. However, today's more demanding and sophisticated audiences can look back at some of the genius behind the films of silent era Hollywood.

Alice Guy-Blache: Matrimony's Speed Limit (1913) and The Fairy of the Cabbages (1896)

Art director of the film studio The Solax Company, the largest pre-Hollywood movie studio, and camera operator for the France based Gaumont Studio headed up by Louis Lemiere, this woman was a director before any kind of gender expectations were even established. She was a pioneer of the use of audio recordings in conjunction with images and the first filmmaker to systematically develop narrative filming. Guy-Blanche didn't just record an image but used editing and juxtaposition to reveal a story behind the moving pictures. In 1914, when Hollywood studios hired almost exclusively upper class white men as directors, she famously said that there was nothing involved in the staging of a movie that a woman could not do just as easily as a man.

Charlie Chaplin: The Kid (1921), The Gold Rush (1923), City Lights (1931), Modern Times (1936), and The Great Dictator (1940)

It is unfortunate that many people today think of Chaplin as silly or for screwball comedy when, in fact, he was a great satirist of the time. He created his comedy through the eyes of the lower economic class that suffered indignities over which they had no control. He traversed the world as his "Tramp" character who found his fortune by being amiable and lucky. The idea that a good attitude and a turn of luck could result in happiness was all that many Americans had during the World Wars and the Great Depression. He played the part of the sad clown and he was eventually kicked out of the country for poking fun at American society. Today he is beloved for his work, but he was more infamous than famous during a large part of his life.

Buster Keaton: Sherlock Jr. (1924), The General (1926), and The Cameraman (1928).

That man that performed the most dangerous of stunts with a deadpan expression, Buster Keaton was a great actor, athlete, stuntman, writer, producer, and director. It is amazing that you could get so much emotion out of a silent actor who does not emote, but Keaton managed to do it. He was also never afraid to go big, often putting his own well being at risk to capture a good shot. Not as well known for his cinematography or editing as many of the other directors of the time, he instead captured performances that were amazing no matter how they were filmed. Famous stunts include the side of a house falling down around him, standing on the front of a moving train, sitting on the side rail of a moving train, and grabbing on to a speeding car with one hand to hitch a ride. If you like films by Jackie Chan, know that he models his films after the work of Buster Keaton: high action and high comedy.

Cecil B. Demille: The Cheat (1915), Male and Female (1919), and The Ten Commandments (1923)

Known as the father of the Hollywood motion picture industry, Demille was the first director to make a real box office hit. He is likely best known for making The Ten Commandments in 1923 and then remaking it again in 1956. If not that, he was also known for his scandalous dramas that depicted women in the nude. This was pre-Code silent film so the rules about what could be shown had not been established. Demille made 30 large production successful films in the silent era and was the most famous director of the time which gave him a lot of freedom. His trademarks were Roman orgies, battles with large wild animals, and large bath scenes. His films are not what most modern film watchers think of when they are considering silent films. That famous quote from the movie Sunset Boulevard in 1950 in which the fading silent actress says "All right, Mr. Demille. I'm ready for my close-up," is referring to this director.

D.W. Griffith: Birth of a Nation (1915) and Intolerance (1916)

Griffith started making films in 1908 and put out just about everything that he recorded. He made 482 films between 1908 and 1914, although most of these were shorts. His most famous film today is absolutely Birth of a Nation and it is one of the most outlandishly racist films of the time. The depiction of black Americans as evil and the Klu Klux Klan as heroes who are protecting the nation didn't even really go over well at that time. Some believe that his follow up the next year called Intolerance was an apology, but the film actually addresses religious and class intolerance and avoids the topic of racism. At the time, Griffith films were known for the massive sets and casts of thousands of extras, but today he is known for his racist social commentary.

Sergei Eisenstein: Battleship Potemkin (1925)

This eccentric Russian director was a pioneer of film theory and the use of montage to show the passage of time. His reputation at the time would probably be similar to Tim Burton or maybe David Lynch. He had a very specific strange style that made his films different from any others. The film Battleship Potemkin is considered to be one of the best movies of all time as rated by Sight and Sound, and generally considered as a great experimental film that found fame in Hollywood as well as Russia.

F.W. Murnau: Nosferatu (1922), Faust (1926), and Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927)

I think that most people would know the bald-headed long-nailed vampire Nosferatu that was a silent era phenomena. It was so iconic that the German film studio that produced the movie was sued by the estate of Bram Stoker and had to close. Faust was his last big budget German film and has an iconic shot of the demon Mephisto raining plague down on a town that was the inspiration for the Demon Mountain in Fantasia (1940). Also, Sunrise is considered one of the best movies of all time by the AFI and by Sight and Sound as well as my favorite silent film. Fun facts: 1) more of Murnau's films have been lost then are still watchable and 2) he died in a car wreck at only 40 when he hired a car to drive up the California coast and the driver was only 14.

Erich von Stroheim: Greed (1924)

Maker of very strange German Expressionist films, Stroheim films are often listed as Horror or Mystery even though he considered himself a dramatic film maker. His most famous movie Greed was supposed to be amazing with an 8 hour run time but it was cut drastically to the point that it makes no sense and was both critically and publicly panned when an extremely abridged version was released in the U.S. Over half the film was lost and a complete version no longer exists. Besides this film, Stroheim was even better known for being the butler in the film Sunset Boulevard as a former director who retired to be with an aging silent film star. He also made a movie called Between Two Women (1937) that told the story of a female burn victim that was inspired by the story of his wife being burned in an explosion in a shop on the actual Sunset Boulevard.

Victor Fleming: The Wizard of Oz (1939) and Gone With the Wind (1939)

Although not known for his silent films, Fleming did get his start during the silent era. He was a cinematographer for D.W. Griffith and then Fleming directed his first film in 1919. Most of his silent films were swashbuckling action movies with Douglas Fairbanks or formulaic westerns. He is the only director to have two films on the AFI top 10 and they happened to have come out the same year.

Hal Roach: Lonesome Luke films starring Harold Lloyd, Our Gang shorts, Laurel and Hardy shorts, and Of Mice and Men (1939)

It is not really fair to put Hal Roach in the silent era directors because he was influential at the time but he had a 75 year career. He was a producer and film studio head and even had a studio named after himself. His biggest contribution to the silent era was his production of Harold Lloyd short comedies and he continued to produce films in the early talkies including Laurel and Hardy shorts, Our Gang shorts, and Wil Rogers films. Roach was the inspiration for the film Sullivan's Travels, in which a famous director who only did frivolous comedies goes out into the world to find inspiration to find a serious drama. Roach did direct a single serious drama, Of Mice and Men, but it came out in 1939 and was buried underneath the works of Victor Fleming. The wealthy cigar smoking studio head that many people think of when they picture a film studio suit is based on this guy. The man would not quit and stayed in the business into his 90s and lived to the ripe old age of 100.

[starryluce]

p.s i love you

Dead Poets Society Rewrite 

Neil Perry x reader

Rated- A (anyone) 

Warning- Charlie says sex but that's about it

Words-1139

Chapter 1

Chapter 2- First Day 

The boys left the room leaving you, Neil, and Todd. Neil walks over to his desk, picking up the achievement pin that he threw. Todd is busy unpacking, he pulls out a family portrait. The portrait had his mother and father with their arms wrapped around who you assumed was Todds older brother, and a bit farther away stood Todd. You sat on the edge of Neil's bed, trying to think about what your next move should be. Should you comfort Neil? Give him space?

��So what do you think of my father?” Neil asked blankly, glancing over at Todd 

“I’ll take him over mine,” Todd response quietly, almost as if it was to himself. 

“What?” Neil asked.

“Nothing.” Todd quickly responded. “Todd if your going to make it around here, you've gotta speak up. The meek might inherit the earth but they don't get into Harvard. Know what I mean?” Todd nodded

Neil sat next to you, still holding on to his achievement pin “The bastard!” he shouted, jabbing his thumb with the metal point, drawing blood. 

“Neil stop,” you said calmly, taking the pin out of his hand. Neil staring at the blood coming from his thumb. You grabbed a tissue that sat on his desk and cleaned up the small amount of blood that was on his thumb. 

“Thank you,” Neil said sincerely, giving you a small smile

--- The first day of class was bright and clear. The junior boys were in and out of the bathroom in record time. Neil found you in the hallway, Todd not being too far behind him. Neil moved his head down giving your cheek a quick kiss before walking with you to chemistry. 

“Are you ready for your first day Todd?” you asked the shy boy.

“No,” he stated plainly, looking down at the ground. 

Neil's hand brushed yours, causing you to interlock your fingers. Neil could feel his cheeks burning up already. The boy could never understand why such a small gesture could make him turn to putty in your hands. How could a boy that radiated so much confidence not have enough to confess his feelings to you? Entering the Chemistry lab, you saw Knox, Charlie, Cameroon, and Meeks already seated. In the front of the room stood a balding old man, holding a massive textbook. --- After getting assigned loads of homework by multiple teachers. You all arrived at your last class of the day. English. All of you dropped your books on your desk and fell into your seats. The new English teacher was wearing a white button-up with a tie but had no jacket. He stood in the front of the room staring out the window. 

You could feel Neil staring at you for what felt like hours though it was only a few seconds. You eventually turned your head to the side to look at him. He gave you a small smile. Keating walked down the aisle between you and Neil making you lose eye contact.

“Oh Captain, My Captain. Who knows where that's from?” Keating asked energetically, he looked around the room, no one raised a hand. “It was written by a poet named Walt Whitman about Abraham Lincoln. In this class, you may refer to me as Mr. Keating or ‘Oh Captain! My Captain!’” Keating stated, walking out the door. Everyone looking around, Neil looked at you, you gave him a shrug, not sure what was going on. “Well we better go with him,” Neil said, leading the class to the back of the room. Neil took your hand in his as you all walked down the hallway into the Honors room. “Can't you two just have sex already, I'm tired of looking at the two of you being all cute,” Charlie suggested, walking in-between you and Neil your hands being pulled apart. “Charlie will you just shut up,” you said, Charlie put his arm around you “Maybe I will. Just for you though doll,” Charlie flirted, letting out a small laugh, you removed Charlie's arm off your shoulder. Neil felt like his heart was about to drop, he knew you wouldn't date Charlie. But what if you change your mind? Did you even like him the same way he liked you? 

Neil felt his hand being grabbed again by you. You gave his hand a soft squeeze. The action caused Neil to blush lightly. 

The walls of the honor room were scattered with old photos, some dating back to the late 1800s. Shelves that held trophies. “Mister... Pitts. An unfortunate name. Stand up, Mister Pitts.” everyone laughed, while Pitts stood up. “Open your textbook, to page forty and read us the first stanza” Keating stated, while Pitts turned his page

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Old-time is still a flying And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying."

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.” Keating began “The Latin term for that sentiment is "Carpe Diem." Anyone know what that means?” he asked the class, Meeks instantly raised his hand. “Carpe Diem... seize the day,” Meeks stated

“Very good, Mr....?” Keating waited for Meeks to answer “Meeks.”   

“Seize the day while you're young, see that you make use of yours. Why does the poet write these lines?” Keating asked. “Because he's in a hurry?” Charlie questioned jokingly 

“Because we're food for worms, lads!” Keating begins, “Because we're only going to experience a limited number of springs, summers, and falls. One day, hard as it is to believe, each and every one of us is going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die! Stand up and peruse the faces of the boys who attended this school sixty or seventy years ago. Don't be timid, go look at them.” Keating concluded

Everyone gets up and walks over to the display cases. Faces of young men stare at us from out of the past. 

“They're not that different than any of you, are they? There's hope in their eyes, just like in yours. They believe themselves destined for wonderful things, just like many of you. Well, where are those smiles now, boys? What of that hope?” Everyone stares into the photos fascinated about what Keating is saying. “Did most of them not wait until it was too late before making their lives into even one iota of what they were capable of? In chasing the almighty deity of success did they not squander their boyhood dreams? Most of those gentlemen are fertilizing daffodils! However, if you get very close, boys, you can hear them whisper. Go ahead, lean in. Hear it?”

"Carpe Diem, lads. Seize the day. Make your lives extraordinary." Keating whispers as loud as he can

You, Todd, Neil, Knox, Charlie, Cameron, Meeks, Pitts all stare into the pictures on the wall. All are lost in thought.

[crazyyfilmyfreak]

The Devil All the Time ( 2020 )

OBVIOUSLY SPOILERS FREE REVIEW

"There's a lot of no-good sons of bitches out there"

Okay alright first of all 

This is not your generic go-to netflix crime thriller if you are watching it with that intention everything is wrong with you 

This Film is dark , not just dark but dark as hell which is filled with gore elements which also includes a multi layered story telling and the film is filled with a group of astonishing cast members and every one of them has a potential to carry the whole film on their shoulders with no hard work but just with grace and ease so these reasons altogether might have over hyped few people's expectations and i think that is the main reason why i am seeing some mixed reviews here and there online or maybe just because you started watching this film with a very wrong intent or wrong mind set like i said before and i am stressing this so much because of in my opinion this film is just perfect maybe there are flaws obviously every film will have flaws but i just couldn't see them ? Maybe because i am a big fan of tom holland i might be little biased but to me this film is top notch and this is a perfect film film 

Now speaking about the cast & film overall 

This is a very slow paced slow burning piece of art 

It takes you to the places you can never think of mentally and it makes you feel completely lost in emotions by the end of the film making you numb 

Antonio Campos is a fucking genius i love his way of story telling 

He's honest , he knows what he is doing , he loves taking risks and he never fears when ever he goes out of the conventional film making style and i very much love how he connected every character in the film like i mean every character in the film is interconnected and if you remove any one character you will feel the void , disturbance and unbalance in the film. 

Film lovers might argue with me or hate me for saying this but i feel this film is so much better than christine 👀🤝🏻 atleast to me ? And this is coming from a person who also loved it a lot 

Now the cast 

I cant speak about everyone in the film because this has such a long list of talented actors 😭 who rocked in the film i am only going to speak abt some of my favourite performances as of now i promise to speak about every other cast member and their performance in the later days coz i am very sure this is a film i am going to talk a lot from now and this is also a film that i am going to watch and enjoy in the future days 

First TOM FUCKING HOLLAND 

I have been seeing this dude's films even before the civil war where he played the spidey role and i always felt he was a very raw and potential actor since his childhood but after seeing him in civil war and spider man hoco its just impossible for me to not like him as an actor ? HE IS SO GOOD ON SCREEN and he makes you believe everything when ever he's on screen maybe its swinging from wall to wall or putting a donut or whatever into a guys mouth while kicking his ass and making it look bad ass af🔥 few might feel this are such a silly examples to say but to me this is about how tom brings a realistic approach to a scene and makes it good and i have always been a big fan of tom holland since spiderman hoco and this is nothing related to tdat but y'all might already know timothee was the second closest option of mcu to cast as spidey and tom grabbed that role ever since tom is just busy with mcu films and where as timothee had a incredible and unbelievable growth as an ACTOR for real to me that is stunning because he did it in such short of span and to me as fan of tom holland part of me was always loving him as spidey but a big heart of me felt a void and sad because tom is missing a lot of great opportunities which has a chance to showcase his real acting abilities which made me think what if timothee got the spidey role instead of tom? Maybe we would have seen a serious tom holland as an actor and this thought killed me everytime but everything happens for a reason and tom holland is undoubtedly the best spidey we have ever got and anyways when films like tdat happen many people realise and understand how great and how fucking incredible tom holland is as an actor and i love when everyone appreciate him for this !! It makes my heart very happy and this is the exact reason why this film is so personal and special to me 

Sorry for completely deviating from the film but this is tumblr and i am not a serious film critic lol so forgive me. 

And speaking about his performance in the film he is just surreal and outstanding . The character that he played is a very complicated one not many relate to that character but every one can understand his emotions, actions and intentions in the film and all the credit goes to tom for bringing a life to that character and playing it in such a beautiful way listen to me very carefully when i am saying this not many actors from this generation can bring bundle of emotions at the same time in a same scene but tom holland does that with such an ease and i stg i am not exaggerating if you watch the film you will know what i mean !! And i am very proud to say i am his big fan 

Now Robbert pattinson 

What the fuck should i talk about this asshole 😂🖕? 

My dude's been killing it since remember me and as an actor like i said in the Tenet Review he has matured a lot as an actor since good time and he played a very powerful and sick role in the film i am not gonna spoil it for others just go and watch the fucking film atleast for him he did a great job and i dont understand how the women and gays are dealing with him? Seriously even as a straight guy its hard for me to concentrate on the film or scenes where ever he's present because this asshole is so fucking hot and sexy 👉👈 The directors should either deglamorise him by making him fat or bald or just hide his face with prosthetic make up or sth just like how directors hide tom hardy's face in every film he's in 🙄. Now coming back to his performance its really hard to dominate him when ever he's on screen dude just want all the attention towards him , such a selfish actor huh 

Bill Skarsgard 

He played a very important and crucial role in the film he maynot have big screen time but we can totally feel his presence through out the film i think this one sentence explains how important his character is to the film and how well he potrayed the role and he's the only guy in the film who got an incredible character growth throughout his journey in the film

Harry Melling 

It would be very unfair if i dont speak about harry's performance in tdat 

DUDE KILLED IT . HE SCARED ME WITH HIS EMOTIONS AND EXPRESSIONS . He didn't even a play a negative role but he just added a lot of depth not only to his character but also the film with his intimidating portrayal 

Sebastian stan 

This is the most honest and a very raw performance from Sebastian stan so far ( i am saying this based on the films that i have seen of his ) i just wish he had more screen time thats the only thing that i didnt like in the film also there are so many blanks that needs to be filled about his character 

Eliza Scanlen

I dont remember her from any film or tv series that i have seen before but she's outstanding in the film , the character doesnt have much something new to offer so i can't speak a lot for her but as far as the character concerned she did her best and her performance is a impressive one and many people are gonna love her . 

Riley Keough 

Unlike the previous films & tv series she's been in 

This film gave her a very challenging role and she's the only women in the film who's been through ups and downs and has a very complicated but a impressive character growth with minimal limitations and dimensions 

She was fabulous and incredible . It just stuns me how the character has begin and how it ended at the end 

And special mention to jason clarke and the old couple who played grandparents ( kind of ) to Arvin Russel and lenora . Not all heroes wear the cape. 

Finally despite the mention of god several times in the film this is not really about god at all its about the DEVIL , The DEMON that carries and plays a very pivotal role in the film you cannot see it but you can sense it and feel it 

Its about the blind faith, its about the irreversible & inescapable fate . I really love how Antonio Campos has connected all the dots by the end of the film with a very impressive film making and with a steady gothic theme running till the end internally and i haven't completely finished the book ( The devil all the time ) but if anyone really wants to completely bring the book life they cannot do it in a single film it will take you atleast 4 or 5 tv series to do so but Antonio Campos did it with a single film and added a very deep meaning to the core of the film w/o deviating from the roots of the book & even touched the aspects like duality of a man and some of you grateful fucks are complaining about him 

OBVIOUSLY films ard subjective but you all need to be more open about this film 

In simple words please fucking watch this film guys 🤗❤ 

This one is not for everyone but everyone will have atleast a small aspect in the film that y'all are going to like / love / hate / discuss about. 

The devil all the time is violent , brutal , honest and perfect in every possible way atleast to me and i really want you all to watch it if you're into such type of stuff 

Remember No country for old men ? Now make it 10 times more violent but add some meaning to it with a realistic approach but more slow burning drama and a little bit of darkness ... now that is what The Devil all the time is .

Gif credits : Milesgmorales

[autolovecraft]

The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon.

Never did he knock together flimsier and ungainlier caskets, or disregard more flagrantly the needs of the rusty lock on the tomb door which he slammed open and shut with such nonchalant abandon. The day was clear, but a high wind had sprung up; and Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault. Only the coffins themselves remained as potential stepping-stones, and as he considered these he speculated on the best mode of transporting them. The moon was shining on the scattered brick fragments and marred facade, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the narrow ventilation funnel in the top ran through several feet of earth, making this direction utterly useless to consider. Instinct guided him in his wriggle through the transom, and in the crawl which followed his jarring thud on the damp ground. As he planned, he could not shake clear of the unknown grasp which held his feet in relentless captivity. In this twilight too, he began to realize the truth and to shout loudly as if his horse outside could do more than neigh an unsympathetic reply.

But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. Birch, before 1881, had been the village undertaker of Peck Valley; and was a very calloused and primitive specimen even as such specimens go. It may have been mocking. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly. At any rate he kicked and squirmed frantically and automatically whilst his consciousness was almost eclipsed in a half-swoon. God, what a rage! The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon. Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling. As he remounted the splitting coffins he felt his weight very poignantly; especially when, upon reaching the topmost one, he heard that aggravated crackle which bespeaks the wholesale rending of wood.

He changed his business, but something always preyed upon him. It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, and I believe his eye-for-an-eye fury could beat old Father Death himself. Birch, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you got what you deserved. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. Davis, who died years ago. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer. I'd hate to have it aimed at me! It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you got what you deserved. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but he could do better with four. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste. That he was not an evil man. He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone.

I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. The air had begun to be exceedingly unwholesome; but to this detail he paid no attention as he toiled, half by feeling, at the heavy and corroded metal of the latch.

He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might. Birch, just as I thought! For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. The moon was shining on the scattered brick fragments and marred facade, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mold in brainless haste, and his hands shook as he dressed the mangled members; binding them as if he wished to get the wounds out of sight as quickly as possible.

That he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. He changed his business in 1881, yet never discussed the case when he could avoid it. As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. His head was broken in, and everything was tumbled about. The wounds—for both ankles were frightfully lacerated about the Achilles' tendons—seemed to puzzle the old physician greatly, and finally almost to frighten him. He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste. His frightened horse had gone home, but his frightened wits never quite did that. The pile of tools soon reached, and a hammer and chisel selected, Birch returned over the coffins to the door. When Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform. Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. An eye for an eye! The day was clear, but a high wind had sprung up; and Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault. At any rate he kicked and squirmed frantically and automatically whilst his consciousness was almost eclipsed in a half-swoon. Horrible pains, as of savage wounds, shot through his calves; and in his mind was a vortex of fright mixed with an unquenchable materialism that suggested splinters, loose nails, or some other attribute of a breaking wooden box. I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mold in brainless haste, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom step of his grim device, Birch cautiously ascended with his tools and stood abreast of the narrow transom. An eye for an eye! He always remained lame, for the great tendons had been severed; but I think the greatest lameness was in his soul. I'd hate to have it aimed at me! He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner. In this twilight too, he began to realize the truth and to shout loudly as if his horse outside could do more than neigh an unsympathetic reply.

[quixotic-writer]

The Impractical Gattosby: Chapter 1

~Oh???? My god???? This was fucking INCREDIBLE!!!! Thank you for this spectacular submission! I’m truly blown away! Please please PLEASE post this on AO3 or Wattpad because I want you properly credited with this work and I want so many others to read this!

In Murr’s younger and more vulnerable years his father gave him some advice that he’s been turning over in his mind ever since.

“James, whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told him, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”

He didn’t say any more but they’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and he understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence he is inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to Murr and also made him the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that at college, Murr was unjustly accused of being a ferret, because he was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently he has feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when Murr realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon—for the intimate revelations of young men or at least the terms in which they express them are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. He is still a little afraid of missing something if he forgot that, as his father snobbishly suggested, and Murr would snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.

And, after boasting this way of his tolerance, Murr came to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes but after a certain point he didn’t care what it’s founded on. When he came back from Staten Island last autumn he felt that he wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; he wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gattosby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from Murr’s reaction—Joe Gattosby who represented everything for which Murr has an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the “comedic genius"—it was an extraordinary gift for confidence, a type of shamelessness such as Murr has never found in any other person and which it is not likely he should ever find again. No—Gattosby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gattosby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out his interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.

Murr’s family were prominent, well-to-do people in the northeast for three generations. The Murrays are something of a clan and they have a tradition that they’ve descended from Italian and Irish nobility, but the actual founder of his line was his grandfather’s brother who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War and started the wholesale business that Murr’s father carries on today.

He never saw this great-uncle but he’s supposed to look like him—with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in Father’s office, sporting a shiny bald head. Murr graduated from Georgetown University in 1915, and after he decided to go to New York and learn the motion picture industry. Everybody he knew was in the motion picture industry so he supposed it could support one more single man. All his aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep-school for him and finally said, “Why—ye-es” with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance him for a year, using the funds that would have otherwise gone towards purchasing for him an automobile, and after various delays he went to New York, permanently, he thought, in the spring of twenty-two.

The practical thing was to find rooms in the city but it was a warm season and he had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that they take an apartment together in a commuting town it sounded like a great idea. He found the place, a weather beaten cardboard apartment at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Los Angeles and he went out to the country alone. Murr had a dog, Penny, at least he had her for a few days until she ran away, and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman who made his bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove.

It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than Murr, stopped him on the road.

“How do you get to Staten Island?” he asked helplessly.

Murr told him. And as he walked on he was lonely no longer. Murr was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on him the freedom of the neighborhood.

And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees—just as things grow in fast movies—he had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.

There was so much to read for one thing and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. Murr bought a dozen volumes on motion pictures and cameras and they stood on his shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton and Rudolph Valentino knew. And he had the high intention of reading many other books besides. He was rather literary in college—not only was he an English major, but one year Murr wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the “Georgetown News"—and now he was going to bring back all such things into his life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the "well-rounded man.” This isn’t just an epigram—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.

It was a matter of chance that he rented an apartment in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous boroughs, identical in contour and separated only by water, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western Hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Upper New York Bay.

Murr lived at Staten Island, the—well, the less fashionable of the two boroughs, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. His apartment was at the very tip of the island, only fifty yards from the Bay, and squeezed between two huge places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. The one on his right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual imitation of some Hôtel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. It was Gattosby’s mansion. Or rather, as he didn’t know Mr. Joe Gattosby it was a mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. His own apartment was an eye-sore, but it was a small eye-sore, and it had been overlooked, so he had a view of the water, a partial view of his neighbor’s lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a month.

Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable Brooklyn glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening he took the Staten Island Ferry there to have dinner with the  Vulcano-Quinns. Sal Vulcano was his former brother-in-law from when Murr had married Sal’s sister for three days, and he’d known Brian “Q” Quinn in his Monsignor Farrell High School days.

Sal’s husband, among various physical accomplishments, had been one of the most powerful ends that ever worked for the Fire Department of New York—a national figure in a way, one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savors of anti-climax. His family was enormously wealthy—even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach—but now he’d come to Brooklyn in a fashion that rather took one’s breath away: for instance he’d bought three cats named Benjamin, Brooklyn, and Chessie. It was hard to realize that a man in Murr’s own generation was wealthy enough to do that.

Why they came to New York, Murr doesn’t know. They had spent a year in France, for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a permanent move, said Sal over the telephone, but Murr didn’t believe it—he had no sight into Sal’s heart but he felt that Q would drift on forever seeking a little wistfully for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable fire to fight.

And so it happened that on a warm windy evening he rode the Staten Island Ferry over to Brooklyn to see two old friends whom he scarcely knew at all. Their house was even more elaborate than Murr had expected, a cheerful red and white Georgian Colonial mansion overlooking the bay. The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold, and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Brian Quinn was at the front porch.

He had changed since his Monsignor Farrell High years. Now he was a sturdy, dark-haired man of thirty with a rather magnificent beard and a supercilious manner. Two shining, arrogant hazel eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his newsboy cap and silk American-flag print scarf could hide the enormous power of that body—he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body.

His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it, even toward people he liked—and there were guys at high school who had hated his guts.

“Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final,” he seemed to say, “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.” They were in the same Improv Club, and while they were never intimate Murr always had the impression that Q approved of him and wanted him to like him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own.

They talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch.

“I’ve got a nice place here,” he said, his eyes flashing about restlessly.

Turning me around by one arm he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista, including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden, a half acre of deep pungent roses and a snub-nosed motor boat that bumped the tide off shore.

“It belonged to Mrs. Calabash, my neighbor.” He turned me around again, politely and abruptly. “We’ll go inside.”

They walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-colored space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding cake of the ceiling—and then rippled over the wine-colored rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea.

The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two men were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both in white and their clothes were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house. Murr must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall. Then there was a boom as Q shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room and the curtains and the rugs and the two men ballooned slowly to the floor.

The younger of the two was a stranger to me. He was extended full length at his end of the divan, completely motionless and with his chin raised a little as if he were balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If he saw me out of the corner of his eyes he gave no hint of it—indeed, Murr was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed him by coming in.

The other man, Sal, made an attempt to rise—he leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—then he laughed, a loud boisterous laugh that soon had him falling to the floor, and he laughed too and came forward into the room.

“Oh my gawd, I’m p-paralyzed with happiness.”

He got up to  only laugh and almost fell to the floor once again, as if he said something very witty, and held his hand for a moment, looking up into Murr’s face, promising that there was no one in the world he so much wanted to see. That was a way he had. Sal hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing man was Jost. (Murr has heard it said that Sal’s murmur was only to make people lean toward him; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.)

At any rate Casey Jost’s lips fluttered, he nodded at Murr almost imperceptibly and then quickly tipped his head back again—the object he was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given him something of a fright. Again a sort of apology arose to Murr’s lips. Almost any exhibition of complete self sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from him.

Murr looked back at his former brother-in-law who began to ask him questions in his low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. His face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright green eyes and a bright passionate mouth—but there was an excitement in his voice that men who had cared for him found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered “Listen,” a promise that he had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.

[secretsniper3]

Just a “Touch up”

You always wanted to do something outlandish, all the other girls had gotten something done and bragged about it non stop, it was driving you crazy! So you decided to get something done yourself, nothing major, just a touch up. So now you sit in the doctors office talking with the man who would be operating on you, you explain that your only looking for a light touch up to your face so your friends will notice instantly. The doctor explained that at 19 years of age “there wouldn't really be much they could do” but you were adamant that you get it done. Date set for 2 weeks away you cant wait!

Time flew past with more of the same, your friends bragging and you roll your eyes every time, your certain they will envy your face when your job is done. The date finally arrives and you head to the clinic to get started. Sitting in the waiting room your not alone, there is a creepy guy with a green hat, sitting in the corner, every time you look over at him he is staring at you. “can i help you?” you ask and he stands and walks to the counter, asks for something and is given a grey folder and a pen, taking both to his seat he begins to fill out a form. “bit late to fill that out” you think to yourself, oh well. A Nurse walks into the waiting room with a piece of paper, “Layla!” she calls and you stand and follow her into the room.

Walking through the single door you notice the main table in the middle of the room, and a few covered tables to the side, at the other end of the room is a wide double door your unsure why they need 2 doors for 1 side and a single door on this side.. “ehhh” you think to yourself as the Nurse gives you your gown to change into and as your the only 2 in here you strip down and put your light blue hospital gown on. it barely goes past your pussy! Tying it on securely your just in time for the surgeon to walk in with 2 folders, 1 blue and the other grey like the man in the waiting room. Flicking through both folders he leads you to the table to begin your surgery.

Laying down on the table it feels weird, like the table itself can be pulled apart due to how it shifts beneath you, its certainly not all in 1 piece. The surgeon begins drawing lines on your face where he will be doing his work, as you had discussed. Looking up to the ceiling you see a camera pointed right at you, clearly for medical reasons you feel more lines get drawn on you.  Taking a needle from a shelf he explains “this shot will feel weird and you may get confused, its to ensure you don't feel pain”. Holding out your arm your given the shot, it feels warm as you lower your arm back onto the table, the warmth spreading through your body, its pleasant at least, the warmth flowing up to your head and your hit with the confusion he mentioned. If you were standing you would fall over instantly, but your laying down so your head just rolls to a side, completely relaxed. As the warmth continues to roll down your body it hits your tight pussy and you start to feel a little aroused, at least your legs are closed but with this gowns length its only a matter of time before your lips start showing your arousal.

Continuing down your legs your toes go numb as the warmth hits them, it tickled at first but now you notice you cant move your arms either, you begin to breathe faster as you learn just how little you can move, its just your head! everything under your neck is completely still. Acting as if nothing is wrong the surgeon walks up and puts a headpiece on your face, bit weird as that's where your getting work done, and all you can see is darkness, nothing else. your body tingling all over from the shot earlier and with your vision limited your sense of touch has increased, your now acutely aware of the hairs on your arms standing up, it is cold in here though but your beginning to panic a little.

A sudden burst of light floods your eyes and after a few blinks you see yourself, from the camera hanging over your body, you see everything, almost the whole room! Worse still you see what the lines on your forehead are, he wasn't tracing out lines, he was writing “Fuckslut” on your forehead! examining your body from this perspective you can see your bald pussy peeking out of the gown, raising your arm for the shot must have pulled the gown up! your pussy is exposed! you can see the glistening from your arousal which has only gotten worse since it started, a hand reaches out and grabs your thigh. the surgeons unwanted touching makes you sick, but your pussy just cries out for more touches and you hate that your body is reacting positively.

Walking up beside your body he reaches out and grabs your breast “what the fuck” you think angrily! who does this guy think he is?! as he squeezes your perky C cup breast, moving to the other and repeating after a minute, leaving both your breasts a little sore but your nipples have reacted to the abuse and you can already see them poking against the gown. your head flooding with shame as you see them get harder and harder as his hand snakes its way up to your smooth neck and holds your throat. caressing your skin he loops his hand under the neck of the gown and to your horror, pulls hard and you feel the tight knots you did earlier come undone as the gown soars off your now completely naked body!

You cant believe what your seeing, your 19 year old body laying flat on the table with nothing covering you, your nipples reacting even more as they get even harder than they were seconds before, and your pussy is drooling with need, your humiliation has only begun and you know it. Watching in horror as the hand moves from your neck, sliding down your smooth skin to once again grasp your breast, your nipple being pinched hard this time, you hear him say “this size wont do, ill have to fill them out a bit” and worse still, you hear another unseen man say “you have the chart, make it happen” your eyes scanning the room as much as you can see, but you cant find the source of the second voice! Movement draws your eyes back to the hand as it slides easily over your smooth, flawless skin and glides over your pussy and fingers dip between your lips. Fluid now flowing out as he probes your most private area with his fingers, expertly drawing more and more fluid from you, clearly knowing what he is doing as he brushes across your clit forcing sharp sensations to stab your mind.

Pulling your legs open you see a separation in the table and sure enough the surgeon separates them, putting a brace on the inside section he opens them wider, catching your ankles in the process, and as the table continues to widen, so do your legs. Pussy now completely accessible now to even the most aimless of people, the surgeon brings a covered cart over to you and upon removing the cloth your witness to needles and a scalpel among other tools. Your terror reaching new heights as a needle is taken, full of a pink liquid it is moved straight for your clit, eyes almost bulging out of your head as the tip sinks into your precious bulb, but no pain, at least he was honest about that. Pushing the tip in further you see him injecting the fluid inside your clit and it actually begins to bulge, blood flooding to your nub forcing it to grow out, pushing its hood aside it now sitting out, you cant stop looking at it, its 3 times bigger than what it was!

A flash of steel and your eyes dart to the cause, the surgeon holding the scalpel now moves in on your engorged clit, slicing from the base and moving to the tip you see blood and you have no idea what he is doing to you.. placing a cup over your clit you see him attach a pump to the end, its a suction cup! you feel him pumping away your sensitive clit moving further away from your body, so sensitive the pumping continues will its 8cm out of your hood, then its bandaged to keep it out and exposed, “if she messes up you can grab her by her clit now and lead her anywhere you want” you look at your once adorable clit, you think “i could give my clit a fucking handjob now!” and its almost big enough too. pumped full of blood the sensitivity is through the roof, and because of the fluid he injected your clit with its completely rigid and standing straight out, not bending at all..

Taking 2 more needles from the cart he aims them for your exposed labia, penetrating them your injected with a blue liquid this time, and you feel a instant burning in your pussy as he injects you multiple times around your pussy and even your inner lips get 4 injections. Heat burning away as your arousal forced your pussy to clench and fresh juice squirts out, not a orgasm but it may as well have been, your so desperately horny now and there's nothing you can do! Watching in terror as he gets more needles and walks over to your breasts, 1 needle in the tip of your nipple and the orange fluid is injected followed by the burning sensation in your breasts, “experimental drugs are illegal but im sure you dont mind right” “not at all” the 2 men agree. both your breasts are burning from the inside as you feel them growing! you can almost see it happening right in front of your eyes, your C’s are growing to D’s!

Whatever the injections were they work fast and your not liking this at all! Taking a device from the table your pussy is opened up as he looks inside. “not a virgin” your surgeon says then a very long needle is inserted in your pussy. reaching far inside he hits the entrance to your womb and injects another drug, “what's going to happen to my poor womb?!” you think “there we go” he says, “she should be hypersensitive to touch now” not waiting for a invitation he touches your clit and you orgasm on the spot, from a simple touch! “now for her ass!” you hear him say as you come back down from the orgasm, a brown liquid filled needle is jabbed into your asshole and your filled once again with a burning sensation, likely being made hypersensitive like the rest of you. Looking to your breasts for a moment your stunned at the DD set your now carrying! your breasts are huge!

“Care to sample the goods?” your asshole of a surgeon says and you see him, a green hat moves into your sight, its that guy from the waiting room! You watch as he pulls his cock out and stands between your open legs and pushes into your soaked pussy! forcing 3 orgasms simultaneously from you as he thrusts in, pushing straight into your womb pulling a further 5 orgasms out of you! your mind is going numb already! you have never cum so many times so fast! your sure no woman has in history and yet here you are, a slave to the orgasmic hell these men have forced on you.. The man in the hat pulls out to your entrance again and thrusts once again straight to your womb, so many orgasms you only thought it “kill meee..” as even your voice in your head trails off in the pleasure. As he slams his length into you your clit gets rammed hard by his body and your rewarded with another 6 orgasms! “its not possiblee-ohmyfuckinggod!” you think as your mind melts through your gushing pussy!

After what seemed like a eternity of orgasmic hell, having well over 50 orgasms the man in the hat moves to your chest, hopping on you he slides his cock in between your DD breasts and begins thrusting hard, you have given a titjob before but it never feels this good! your already cumming just from having him fuck your tits! and he clearly enjoys his time as you feel a splash on your face and mouth as he cums on you. “can we make that more fun for the slave too?” he says, your mind stopping at the word “slave” what did he mean by that? your name is Layla for gods sake! you came in here for a touch up and your being transformed into a cum crazy slave?! you watch as a clear liquid filled needle is brought over to your face, your mouth is opened with no resistance, and your tongue is jabbed and filled with the fluid. “this will ensure the she enjoys giving you head as much as you enjoy receiving it” he said with a laugh!

Your mouth burning as the surgeon returns you your pussy and grabs your clit hard and begins playing with it, forcing you to cum instantly with each stroke, having a further 12 orgasms pulled from you in seconds and he is still going! your eyes roll back into your head as you cum wildly! your mouth still open from the injection some of the mans cum drips into your now open mouth and lands on your tongue, you never did like the taste of cum but this was different.. though you cant move it the cum just slides over your sensitive tongue and you can taste it, somehow you love it! it tastes amazing!, hearing something click your head drops backwards as your eyes look down at your body through the camera once more, the green hat man is lining up your throat for some fucking. Nothing you can do but watch this man fuck your throat, as his cock enters your mouth it pushes your tongue to the floor of your mouth, and you can taste his cock in detail. “s-so tasty!!” your mind screams as he begins pumping down your throat!

“i think were almost done here!” the surgeon says loudly and you hear a grunt of agreement from the man as you feel his hot load pump into your throat as he pulls out, raising your head back up and locking the table back in position, the surgeon stops pulling orgasms from you as he releases your hypersensitive and overstimulated clit, you couldn't count how many times you came if you wanted to.. Watching as the man in the green hat beings a bag over, he pulls some small devices out and places them beside you, “how long will she be paralyzed?” he asks as he does, “5 hours at least.” the surgeon replies, “5 hours of immobile hell?! fuck!” you think. Watching as the man places 2 devices on either side of your nipples and tapes them there you recognise them as vibrators.. “the sick fuck is going to keep making me cum?” you scream mentally.. a thick dildo is placed between your tits and turned on, it feels amazing already!

Watching in fear as a series of vibrators are stuck to your solid clit, covering it completely. A long dildo is pushed right into your pussy and into your womb, pulling more orgasms from you, and finally a scary long dildo is pushed inside your virgin ass, the sensation is incredible for your first time, you can feel it as it moves further and deeper inside you. a foot of rubber cock now fills your tight ass! you can see your pussy gaping open as the dildo doesn't even stick out a little, the man pulls a pair of panties from the bag. black and shiny you realize its a latex lined chastity belt. pushing your clit through the large hole in the front, the panties push completely against you, orgasming immediately as the latex hits your pussy, form fitting almost as it hugs your hips perfectly, metal on the outside you see him lock them on and lower a weird ring around the base of your clit and snapping it shut locking your clit in the belt. At the push of a button your whole body cums instantly as every vibrator activates at seemingly max power!

8, 20, 36, 53.. orgasms every few seconds as your clit visibly shakes as each vibration quakes your mind and body, your pussy and ass vibrating furiously as the tip of the cock in your womb wrenches more orgasms out of you. in the first 10 seconds you have already lost count of not only how many times you came, but also where you are! “my name……. is.. Laylaaaaaaahhhhhhh” your mind dribbles out, “fuuuck-ohmygodnooo!!” you would be screaming if you could. Your mask is removed and your eyes dart around looking at the man in the face clearly. you burn his face into your mind as the man who stole your life, but with his large beard you cant make out much! “FUCK! im cuuuuuuhhh..“ your mind trails off. countless orgasms pulled out of your body as the wheels on your table are unlocked and you learn why there are 2 doors on 1 side of the room, its to fit the table.. wheeled through the doors you see a carpark, and your new ride.. a car boot. Your body is folded up with the surgeons help and your bound into a doll almost, still cumming furiously as your placed in the boot of this mans car and locked inside.

Its dark inside, your body still cumming and you cant move even if you wanted to.. a life of sexual slavery at the hands of this man.. You wanted a Touch up, and now this man is going to touch you up any time he wants..

[kinetic-elaboration]

April 10: 2x14 Wolf in the Fold

Watched Wolf in the Fold last night. The only thing I really remembered about this ep going in was that it was a Scotty ep. Which is true but also… slightly misleading. Also that it had to do with Jack the Ripper—which is more true than I remembered!

A decadent intro… I get why Spock isn’t here but I actually DO think he would be into it.

Matchmaker Kirk lol.

Scotty is so awkward. This is the other detail I remembered from this ep, actually: how Scotty wants to applaud using his hands no matter what. (Even with those cool lights RIGHT THERE lol). Old Aberdeen pub crawler…

This is honestly such a bizarre back story: Scotty got a concussion because someone who happened to be a woman made a mistake and now not only is his head all funny but he has a “total resentment toward women.” Like okay, nothing creepily sexist in that concept. Also –they ultimately barely even use it! I know it’s the implied rationale for why he would suddenly start murdering women and also not remembering it but it’s like such a flimsy excuse that they never say it out loud in so many words for fear it should sound too stupid. Which it would. Honestly, you really only need the concussion imo. Why go into the weird misogyny thing at all?

And now Kirk and Bons head off to a brothel, giving me a total resentment toward men.

Nice eerie fog out here. Very Aberdeenian.

Okay, so this woman was stabbed a dozen times but she only screamed once? And then a second later, Scotty had somehow teleported several feet away, still holding the knife? He’s good at his job but he’s not that good. This is already deeply suspicious.

“Therapeutic shore leave.” Trying to cure his hatred of ladies lmao.

So this weird little bald man, Hengist, from Rigel IV. Is he an alien? I suppose he must be. Rigellians are a race, as we know from Journey to Babel. It’s not always clear to me which groups of people are Earth colonists who have migrated to or been born on other planets and which are humanoid aliens.

The Aurelians are a gentle, harmless people. Cute. I like these aliens.

I wish we could hire aliens to be our administrators. Alien Overlord and Taylor.

“I’ll be taking over, since I am the highest official.” He out-officialed him.

I like this guy and his slightly creepy empath priestess wife. I feel like Spock would like them, too.

Speaking of: Spock in the captain’s chair. Hot.

I don’t get how this planet is the only space port around. Like… could not any planet be a space port? What does that even mean?

Oh no, a woman with the lie detector machine! She must be incompetent and/or to be despised.

I love Sybo’s outfit. Her hair and jewelry too. Honestly just a great head-to-toe look.

Another murder! Sorry but this one is on the Aurelian for just leaving the murder weapon out there unattended.

Generally speaking, the costume and set people are doing allllll the work in this episode.

Hengist went to look for suspects and he came up with the victim’s father and fiancé?? He’s not even trying lol. Anyway, he obviously did it.

How can you NOT tell if a lock was picked or not? I mean I know McCoy is a doctor, not a locksmith, but come on. It can’t be that ambiguous.

Spooky mumbo-jumbo.

Interesting that Spock doesn’t trust the mumbo-jumbo either. I guess he only approves of it when it’s Vulcan.

When Sybo says “monstrous evil” the camera is looking right at Hengist. Not suspicious at all. He’s only clearly railroading Scotty, looked right at the second victim before she was killed, was in the perfect position to take the murder weapon after it was carelessly left about, and is the most obvious non-Scotty suspect here.

I love how loyal Bones is. He literally saw Scotty holding Sybo and the knife with blood on his hands and is like “It’s impossible he could have done it.”

So many of the “truth discovery” devices on TOS are truly creepy. Like they’re all clear plot devices, and for that reason depicted as completely reliable, and the more completely reliable they are, the more deeply disturbing they become upon any reflection at all.

That’s a pretty computer though. All those pretty flashing lights! And it runs on floppy disks.

I literally just remembered what happened.

“Scotty, lie to me, how old are you?” / “Twenty-two, Sir.” Yeah, I’d say that’s a lie.

So like this allegedly all-powerful computer is literally just a lie detector. That’s it! A lie detector that picks up on psychological signs of lying, just like our lie detectors today. I mean… you could have just said that straight out. All they do is show what a person believes to be true, so in the case where someone truly doesn’t remember something, the usefulness is… limited.

My mom suggested a Vulcan mind meld which, actually, would pretty much solve the problem! But for once Spock actually treats it like something serious and not to be thrown out as a solution to all problems at the merest suggestion.

Someone needs to do a fashion line based entirely on the Argellian outfits.

Spock is internally eye-rolling at all this drama. I feel like he’s a real advocate for the computers today. That’s like… really his only role.

The computer’s linguistics banks don’t know what this word means? Maybe we should get Uhura on the case.

Plot twist: the killer was Jack the Ripper the WHOLE TIME! The last one you’d ever expect.

I don’t get how the computer made the leap from Redjac to Jack the Ripper since that is not a real word and no one outside of this episode of TOS has ever used it for Jack the Ripper.

“Everyone feeds on death, even vegetarians.” So dark, Spock. So emo.

Aw, alien creatures that derive sustenance from love. Adorable. There should have been an episode devoted to them. (Wait a minute…. Idea coming on…)

Speaking of gaseous cloud aliens…the Companion?

This episode really relies a lot on the computer to provide information and otherwise move the plot along.

Kirk keeps ignoring everyone to just talk to Spock.

“Cloud the issue” lol that’s a good pun. (Already can’t remember who said it but… point stands.)

The cloud entity feeds on women because they are more easily and deeply terrified. That sounds fake but okay. It’s also not in keeping with what Sybo said, is it? She mentioned a hatred of women. That’s not the same as finding women useful.

Hmm, when do we get our Martian Colonies, @ perseverance?

Oh, Rigel IV, you say? There seems to be a Rigellian right here!

This whole history of the entity is bizarre. The first killing sprees (that we know of) are on Earth, and Kirk specifically says that when man left Earth to explore, he took this with him. Does that mean… the cloud creature/entity originated on Earth? Truly a bizarre hypothesis, when you think about it.

Are you the entity, Sir?

There is actually very little Scotty in this Scotty-centric episode.

Lol the knife originates with the hill people of Rigel IV. What is this, Deliverance?

Omg Kirk punched the entity right out of that man!

So to summarize: “Jack the Ripper is actually a gaseous cloud that is capable of infecting the computer system of the Enterprise, thus hijacking the whole ship” is the basic, wacky concept of this episode.

This tranquilizer could quiet a volcano. Where was it during the volcano scene in STID hmm?

Kirk’s plan to keep people from being scared by the maniacal voice of the entity: Tranquilize the entire ship. That’s why he’s paid the big bucks.

Yet another twist on the old Kirk v. Computer plot. Time to use Math to defeat it.

Kirk is so unimpressed with the entity. “Eh, shut that off.” He would not be moved by a haunted house.

“This is the first time I’ve heard a malfunction threaten us.” Sulu can man his post AND be funny; he’s multi-talented.

Kirk and Spock don’t need tranquilizers because they’re smart enough to know this high-pitched voice yelling random threats just isn’t actually scary.

Kirk is really insistent that Sulu man his frickin’ post!

Oh no, not PI!! My nemesis, PI!

I’m really living for Sulu here.

If the entity entered a tranquilized person, it might take up knitting. I gotta say, that doesn’t make any sense as a plot point but I like it anyway.

That was a very efficient tranquilizing job! Everyone in a 400+ person ship in like 10 minutes? Get the medical team on the Enterprise in charge of the vaccine distribution stat.

Kirk just outright assumes that Spock won’t be a hospitable entity choice. And he’s not even wrong! The entity chooses the dead body over Spock or Kirk. It knows when it’s not wanted.

Hengist has been revived!

The entity is honestly, truly hilarious. Die, die, everybody die! Kill! Kill you all! Maniacal laughter! All while being carried by a still utterly unimpressed Kirk down the halls of the ship.

Spock’s like “get out of the way, you tranquilized idiot. Got some entity-scattering to do.”

“I gave them a pretty big shot, Jim!” Think you might have slightly overdone it, Bones? You didn’t need to make everyone useless for 6 hours for a problem that was solved in 5 minutes!

This is one of those moments, Kirk trying to get Spock to see the pretty ladies with him, when Spock seems super gay. Like, I don’t even think he is, that’s not my reading of him, and I also assume that wasn’t the intention here, but that’s just so clearly how it reads.

Aw, Kirk doesn’t want to go the strip club alone. Poor bb.

Weird how Lt. Leslie was in this when he died in the last episode.

Overall, I’d actually have to say that was a very crack-y episode. I liked the ending the best because it was so ridiculous.

What I don’t understand, in addition to whether or not the entity was really supposed to be from Earth, was how it came to be Hengist. Like, it can enter and leave bodies (or computers) at will, so perhaps it just entered Hengist, a normal Rigellian, at some point. But if that’s so, putting him on the transporter and scattering him into space was a pretty cruel thing to do. Also, why did he die (or appear to die) when the entity wasn’t in him? That implies he is the entity’s physical form. But then, first of all, how is also a Rigellian? Like did the entity mate with a Rigellian? Did the entity take over a baby Rigellian? Did the entity just claim to be Rigellian but is really just humanoid in its physical form—we did establish that some aliens, like this one, or creatures or whatever, are gaseous sometimes and solid others, so maybe its solid form is humanoid. Which would fit well with it originating in Earth, although that also brings a new and perhaps unintentional layer of creepiness to the story. I have to assume that’s the situation, but still, wild. And it doesn’t explain this: why does Hengist “die” when the entity “leaves” him, as opposed to just disappear entirely when the entity changes form??

Anyway, I know I’m overthinking this very wacky premise. Overall, I think the episode was fine. It didn’t have enough Scotty (for being a “Scotty episode”) and it changed genres an awful lot for 50 minutes. There was a tad too much misogyny going on. And overall I didn’t feel like the characters—even Kirk, and in actuality this was a Kirk episode much more than a Scotty episode, and purposefully so—were at their most interesting. Tbh Sulu ultimately stole the show in the final minutes.

Next up is the Trouble with Tribbles! Also a funny episode but at least undeniably purposefully so!

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Motorcycle Race

Has a bit of Mick and Lisa friendship. Takes place between Rogue Air and Family of Rogues.  "Okay peoples let's get this party started!!!!!" Shawna shouted in the middle of the crowd in Saints & Sinners. 

Mark Axel, and Hartley burst in quickly behind her. Mark's small hurricanes blew the door hinges off and people ran screaming out. Mick, Leonard and Lisa dragged behind. 

"I can't believe we're robbing this place." Leonard muttered disgustedly as the crowds pushed and ran past them. 

"Aww c'mon on Lenny. It's Shawna's birthday let her rob S&S if she wants to. Besides look at all the wallets people are leaving around." Lisa grinned as another patron ran away screaming, not noticing Lisa's hand dipping into her pocket as she ran past her. "I already got 7!" 

Leonard shook his head with his usual "Why-in-hell-am-I-related-to-you-and-why-did-I-agree-to-this-stupidity" sigh.

Lisa rolled her eyes, he was the one who created the group who wanted to do said stupidity. He was the one that had wanted to get more villains to go against the Scarlet Speedster, and now they were stuck with them. 

It all had started when Shawna came to the warehouse with a bunch of shopping bags, announcing that no one should go to her room tonight because it was her birthday. Then Axel came up with the idea that they should celebrate. And with Rogues, what better way to celebrate than by filling their pockets with cash, jewelry and other stuff they got for free. Shawna insisted on Saints & Sinners because she wanted to crash at the bar so off they went. 

Lenny hadn't wanted to go, but Lisa had goaded him to it because what would it look like if the leader of the Rogues was so noticeably absent from a theft. 

"Like he is the only sane one, so that's why he's the leader" He drawled. He ended up going anyway because he didn't want anyone to end up in jail before going on their next heist. 

Lisa had to admit, she had been against the idea of having more in the Rogues besides the three of them. Sort of an exclusivity. But it had been generally okay. Mark and Axel were all over her when Lenny wasn't around and it was nice to be so pampered and admired. 

Despite his lovesick gazes, Axel was the jokester and she thought he was the best one to hang out with. who wouldn't love a buy who stole the cold gun, freezed the hallway and started sledding races. She didn't know quite what to think of Mark and Hartley they mostly stood to each other or by themselves. But as long as they didn't mess up her life with whatever inner angst they were holding up she didn't care. 

Shawna was fun to be around, it was nice to have another girl in villainy and they sometimes compared notes on Cisco and made fun of him and the other Rogues when they went clubbing. But she also had a sneaking suspicion that she had been using her powers to get into her room, and steal her make up which was not cool at all. She had stolen those Clinique bottles through her own hard work and she wasn't going to share. The place was finally clear, the owner of the bar stared at them through widened eyes. He looked like he was going to stand his ground but one glare from Mick sent him scurrying off. 

“Best day ever" Shawna sighed satisfied sipping her bottle of vodka she took from the bar. Axel and Hartley were jamming up the cash register and Mark seemed to be trying to take off the disco ball with his mind. 

"So how long do we get to crash before the police arrive?" Mick asked absent-mindedl, lighting a cigarette. 

"10, 8 minutes or so" Leonard said checking his watch.

"Cool we stay here until last second and then off out" Shawna grinned, as she spotted a sequined purse lying under one of the tables.

"Maybe you can but we can't." Mark said, looking at the locked front door.

“Oh yeah, it must suck that you have to leave early because you're not fast enough to outrun the cops" Shawna mock-pouted "Poor baby.”

"I can out-run the cops anytime I want.”Hartley shot back.

“No way, your stick legs can't outrun a snail" Axel jeered.

“Yes I can" Hartley shoved him. "No way" Shawna called out.

"Forget running, best way to go is by motorcycle" Mick said.

"And that title is held by me" Lisa added.

“Please" Mick snorted.

"Please what?" Lisa scowled.

"I'm the one that actually taught you how to drive fast. No way you can beat the master." Mick smirked. It was true. Len had been the one that taught her to drive car, how to drive a motorcycle, how to repair the, but Mick was the one that taught her how to drive fast ad dangerously. They used to drive around Central, breaking all kinds of speed limits. 

"Mick, stop talking drunk and be serious.” Lisa snorted.

“Guys, I have the perfect way to solve this" Shawna grinned.

"Beer" Mark said helpfully.” 

“Yes, that and we race on it." Shawna suggested. The Rogues stared at each other and ran out of S&S. They headed to the old dump yard at the edge of the skate park, and took some bicycles lying around while Leonard, Mick, and Lisa took their own motorcycles. "Okay first up,” Lisa announced "You four go race starting at the half pipe, to S&S and back again. Then Mick and I will go, winner race winners." Leonard just settled down at the park bench watching them intently.

“Do we get to use our powers?" Hartley asked eagerly.

"Of course" Lisa purred "What fun would it be if we didn't?"

The four got on their bikes, and glared at the lights of S&S and the police cars in the distance.

"Ready, set go!" Lisa called Axel started up the fight by setting off parachute bombs at Shawna who was up front, she disappeared just as the bombs hit the ground. 

Which made Mark and Hartley scramble off balance into some trees. Mark fought back as lightning blast out of the sky, making Axel zig-zag into the street.

 "SHIT!! Biker coming through" he yelled as car honked and barreled toward him. Shawna reappeared once more in front but was soon overpowered by Hartley when he aimed his sonic gloves at the ground. The whole race sorta crumbled after that. 

They got so distracted with fighting each other that jumped off their motorcycle and use their powers and combat skills in a four way fight. 

"Guess we can get started then," Mick commented. “Done" Lisa pulled on her helmet, and crouched on her golden motorcycle "See you at the finish line old man" Lisa crowed.

Mick grunted. Leonard placed their guns next to him and called out "Start!”

It had been fast and furious, without the added distraction of firing fireballs me gold at each other they swerved precisely and smoothly across the streets. Lisa sorely tempted to drive over by him and hit him against the curb, but one thing she re breed from racing him years ago that knocking out you're opponent also made sure you slowed down too. 

They made it to S&S and we're greeted by the police, and the owner. "Yes, they helped rob the place!" 

"Drive back, drive back, tactical retreat" Mick shouted at her, she didn't need to be told twice. 

She zig zagged as people always said to do if you don't want to get shot by the police. She certainly didn't want to today and in this outfit. The blood would stain the chiffon for sure. She heard the squeal of tires blowing out, and cursed to see her motorcycle tire with a bullet in it. Mick was a little ways ahead of her, already getting dragged off by the police officers. 

She shook her head, dejectedly and let them cuff her without a fight. Without a gun, against their many many holsters, it didn't seem worth it. 

As she got shoved in with Mick, he huffed on yet another cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Ya know your brother is gonna killed us." 

“He could kill Shawna... She was the one with the whole birthday robbery idea and then the motorcycle race." Lisa said, "This is not worth getting killed over. If anything he would kill you for screwing me.” 

She was thinking of Leonard's ever present threat, to murder anyone, especially partners having sexual relations with her. 

"He wouldn't kill me" Mick said, carelessly.

"Really?" Lisa added doubtfully, she knew Mick was like Leonard's closest and only friend but she didn't think their friendship extended that far. Hell, he said that Mick was the last person he wanted her having sex with. “I believe his exact words were, If you think one impure thought about her I will catastrate you, boil your nuts and burn you alive." Mick said thoughtfully as Lisa stared at him in horror, with more than just the threat in mind 

“Did you like me?" She would never admit but she had a crush on Mick for a few months when she was 14. Nothing big, and it was before she knew the extent of his craziness. All she knew was that he had a car with license, had wicked prison tattoos, and an intriguing deep guttural voice. It went away after awhile but never once did she think Mick would have looked at her the same way. 

"I just saw you in a one of your evening dresses, and happened to compliment your rack out loud. That was it." Mick said. “That explains it" Lisa smiled, "And you and I dating. Never. I don't go for balding, old men."

"I don't go for idiotic train wrecks" Mick retorted.

They settled to an easy silence before she broke it again, “So what do you think of the whole Rogues thing?" 

“Worst plan ever. A guy who can make thunderstorms whenever he cries, a disappearing act that thinks robbing S&S is big game, a dumbass engineer with parental issues, and a daddy's boy with bombs. Len couldn't pick up someone cool and useful like someone who could control minds, or an assassin." Mick snorted. 

“Let’s face it. The original three of us pulled off more cons than we did with the rest." Lisa agreed. 

"Well we're stuck with them for now. It'll be like our own reality TV mess." Mick snorted. 

"I bet I could get Shawna in a fight with Mark over the bathroom and then have Axel and Hartley making out in the closet in no time." Lisa smiled, mischevious thoughts running through her mind.

"Mark and Hartley in the closet? I bet Mark and Hartley. In Leonard's office" Mick corrected.

“You're on. I can't wait to see Lenny's face when that happens" Lisa grinned.

 "After we get out of this, we're going for another round though" Mick added.

 "You want to get beaten by me twice?" “I was way ahead of you before the cops came." Mick sneered.

"You have proof?" "I don't need proof, I'm better motorcyclist than you'll ever be. I was back then and I am now.” Mick snarled. "Things changed, Rory. I'm number one now." Lisa glared back at him. 

“Things haven't changed that much, Glider. You still need to learn how to zig zag without getting shot, don't you think for a second you're not the same kid that I had to drive to school and help with...with Brazilian waxing" Mick said, with a rare smile at the memory. 

Leonard had forced Mick to go to her wax appointment with her when he got stuck at a job with Lewis. It had been a hard ordeal for both of them, and Mick ended up with a broken wrist. "It was my first time, and you wouldn't let me hold your.." 

The truck stopped with a halt, and Shawna appeared in front of them. "You're anti-heroes of the day have arrived" she cheered, opening the door and pushing them out. They fell to the ground, "Would you mind, uncuffing us first" Lisa spit dirt out of her mouth.

“Oh of course!" "Here let me help!" Mark and Axel scrambled to uncuff her.

“A little help here" Mick hissed, jingling his cuffs, as Leonard rolled his eyes to help. “That's enough for tonight" Leonard used his stern, leader tone and gestured to the motorcycles waiting at the bench.  

"You head out, we have a score to settle" Lisa said, and winked at Mick. “Yeah Goldie wants to get her ass kicked.

"Don't get so cocky, Rory" Lisa smiled, revved her engine and the two roared off to the pipeline. 

[toadchick58]

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