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cloudlessly-light · 1 year

Note

Would you be able to write something about Hotch and Emily doing some BDSM stuff and Em uses the safe word and they have a conversation about it?

A/N: The goal of kink and BDSM is never to get a partner to use the safeword. It’s there to protect all parties involved. With that said I got this prompt and I ran with it because Hotchniss would be healthy about it. Check the warnings and only read if you are comfortable enough to do so.

Tite: Got me in the dark speaking in tongues Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 3.7k Warnings: Smut, BDSM themes and everything that comes with that, dirty talk, breath play, handcuffs, use of safeword, aftercare

Aaron fell fast and hard for Emily, it was ridiculous, how easy it was to fall for her. But he had refused to admit it to anyone, not even himself. Until Colorado. The realization hit him hard, a punch to the chest as he felt something break inside of him when Benjamin Cyrus beat her and he was standing helpless on the sidelines. Her selflessness, her courage, they were both tiny pieces of her that he loved, and he crashed into the realization that if something happened to her, he didn’t know how to move on.

So when she’s healed enough, he gathered enough courage to ask her out and he’s surprised when she agrees with a simple yes and a smile.

They go on a date and it’s awkward, conversation feeling forced, Emily tense because she has problem differentiating Hotch with Aaron, Aaron nervous because he knows that being on a date with his subordinate is breaking the rules. But he’s a gentleman and he walks her to her door at the end of the night, already prepared for the apologetic excuse to not do this again that he think she’s been planning.

What he should have realized, what he should have known, is that you never can tell what Emily is thinking. And then instead of mumbling about how they shouldn’t do this because they work together, she kisses him. It takes him a moment to respond to it, but when he does it deepens quickly and she moans into his mouth as he pulls her against his body.

“I just needed to try that, see if I can get past the Hotch of it all.” She whispers as they break apart, her forehead pressing against his.

“And can you?” He asks and she grins at him as her hands tighten on his suit.

“Hell yes.”

So they start dating, fall in lust and in love and Aaron finds that being with Emily is more than he’d ever thought. She lets him explore things he’d never thought, she teaches him French in between sips of wine, makes him open up in a way he didn’t think he was capable of anymore and she lets him experience new realms of pleasure.

They had been together for a couple of months when Emily told him about kinks and BDSM, something she had been into for years. He was immediately intrigued, had played around with blindfolds and restraints with Haley but she had never been interested enough to try more, but he was. It starts slow, Emily teaching him about safe words and the communication and trust that they needed for it to be safe, it wasn’t something he didn’t already knew, but was happy to learn more about.

“Have you ever had to use your safe word?” He asked, anger already building at the thought of someone hurting her.

“No.” She squeezed his hand over the table. “Only the pause word once but that was because I had a coughing fit.” She laughed as she remembered one of the feathers from a toy that she accidentally ingested. “But that’s why the words exist, it doesn’t always have to be because it’s gotten to be too much, sometimes things just happen that are beyond our control.”

Aaron nods and kisses her.

“Tell me more.”

So she tells him more, explains what she’s tried and what she likes, what she hasn’t done and what she refuses to do. He’s not surprised that the things she’s not interested in, he isn’t either. He is surprised of the level of pain she sometimes like though.

“I’m not sure I could do that do you.” He says one night after she had told him how she had bruised for weeks after a punishment with a paddle.

“And you don’t have to. You also have your limits honey, it’s not only about the sub. You’re not going to do anything you’re uncomfortable with okay?” She holds his face in her hands to make sure that he listens and doesn’t let go until he nods. “Safe words and aftercare. It’s so important, for everyone involved.”

They build up the scenes with time, Aaron trying out both being the submissive and the dominant and neither of them are surprised when he loves the role of the dominant and quickly opts out of being a submissive, feeling uneasy by something as simple as being restrained.

“I didn’t expect you to like it.” She assures him later with a kiss. “You’re okay though?”

“I’m okay. I knew I wouldn’t like it.” He rolls on top of her and pins her hands above her head with a dark grin. “I know you do though.” They fuck hard and loud and the next morning he realizes that he’s bitten a bruise into the skin of her breast and he’s hard so quick he’s lightheaded.

They do more and more scenes, Aaron finding that restraining Emily and having his way with her is one of his favorites, to have her begging for him, for his touch, for his cum, for anything, is a power rush unlike any other.

Emily was a fan of pain, weather it was from his touch or toys, and as Aaron got more comfortable and wanted to try new things, she found that she would bear a bruise from him somewhere on her body almost all the time. She liked the feeling of it, that he marked her as his.

They were blissfully happy together, until Ian Doyle shows up and tears their lives apart. She runs, tries to end it before it’s truly began but fails. The day he sends her to Paris she’s damaged and broken as her heart breaks for everything they could have been. She knows that he’s just as heartbroken as she is, desperate kisses mixed with tears and soft touches that makes her not want to go forces JJ to take her hand to get her into the plane.

She walks back into his life seven months later and even if neither of them are the same people they were, it’s easy to fall back in love with her. Not that he ever really fell out of love with her.

They start slow, a dinner to see if there’s something still there, a walk as they talk about what has changed, a glass of wine before they rediscover their bodies. He tries not to flinch at the sight of her scars and she comforts him as he tenses above her.

“It’s still me.” She whispered in the dark as his fingers grace the burn on her chest.

“I know. Nothing would ever make me believe different.” He promises with a kiss. “I just don’t like the thought of him having a hold on you even in death.”

“He doesn’t.” She tells him and as she does, she believes it.

They rediscover what they thought was once lost, they come to find that somehow they are stronger. It takes a few months before Emily carefully brings up the one thing they haven’t tried to get back to yet.

“Do you miss it?” She asks as she hands him a blindfold, the red silk slipping through his fingers as he grasps it.

“I do, but I’m not sure if we’re there yet. I don’t know if it’ll be the same.” He throws the blindfold onto the bed and instead pulls her into his arms, his hands firm on her hips.

“I miss it too.” She breathes as his forehead press against hers and she breathes him in. “And there’s only one way to find out.”

“I know. I just… I don’t want to hurt you.” He admits quietly and when he opens his eyes he finds the kind, reassuring smile that always calms him.

“You’re not him honey. But I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want.”

“I want to.” He kisses her with a smile.

It’s slow, just like everything had been since she returned. They talk about limits again, new ones added onto the list of things either of them aren’t comfortable with anymore. Aaron is hesitant to push her too far and Emily painstakingly aware that Aaron doesn’t let go like he once had. But as they slowly get back into it, they both find that the release they found in their dynamic was still there.

Then it’s been almost two years since that night in the warehouse, Emily’s scars faded and as much as she wants the memories to fade as well, they haven’t. Aaron and Emily live together now, have been for a few months, their relationship stronger than ever. But anniversaries were hard and she should have known that.

They had planned a scene, talked it through like always and Emily had been looking forward to it all week. She needed the release of letting go, needed her mind to be blissfully empty of everything that wasn’t Aaron and pleasure and pleasing him.

“Honey, are you home?” She got home purposefully late, something they had agreed on earlier.

“Undress.” His voice sounded from somewhere in the house and she shivered in anticipation.

She hung up her coat, but tossed her shirt on the floor, soon followed by her pants and boots with a smirk. She knew it would annoy him that she didn’t fold the clothes. She looked around but she couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him either until another demand sounded from somewhere.

“Kneel.”

Emily sunk to her knees silently, hands behind her back and eyes to the floor, but ears trained on any sound. The first thing she noticed was the sound of his shoes against the hardware floor, followed by a pleased hum.

“Aww look at you, pretty thing.” Aaron walked slowly towards her, knew that the closer he got the more she would struggle with her urge to touch him. He stopped only when he was right in front of her and he could see the goosebumps along her skin. “Eyes.”

She immediately looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading as her thighs clenched to relieve some of the pressure between her legs. She forced the whimper down as his warm hand stroked her cheek, then gripped her chin and angled her face.

“Stay still.” His voice had an edge to it as his face turned condescending. “It’s been less than two minutes and you’re already soaked aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She whispered, her cheeks turning pink from the humiliation as another rush of arousal settled uncomfortably between her legs.

“Yes, what?” His hand gripped her chin tighter and this time she did whimper.

“Yes, sir.” She corrected herself immediately and she saw a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Pathetic.” He spat the word lowly and let go of her chin so suddenly she almost fell forward. “Go upstairs and wait for me.” Aaron watched as she crawled towards the stairs, his own want for her making a low growl sound deep in his chest. “Oh and Em,” The sound of his voice stopped her halfway up the stairs. “If I find you touching yourself without permission, you’re not going to like what I do to you.”

She nodded through a low moan, her whole body feeling like it was on fire and he had barely even touched her yet. This is what she had needed all week, could already feel the stress of the week disappearing as she let go of everything besides them.

Aaron waited until she was out of sight before moving through the hallway and towards the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water to bring upstairs, drank his own bottle slowly with a grin. He knew how much she hated waiting, knew that she was probably squirming in anticipation and it made him hard just thinking about it.

After almost ten minutes he slowly made his way up the stairs to join her, the sound of his steps sounding loud in the otherwise quiet house. He suppressed a groan when he found her in the position she knew he’d want her in. Her legs were spread as wide, hands above her head. He could see her muscles tensing, her bottom lip bitten red as her hands clenched while trying to contain the burning desire.

“You’re being so good for me.” He leaned against the doorframe and watched proudly as she stayed completely still. “Someone really needs to come today.”

“Thank you, sir.” She kept her eyes on the ceiling until he was moving to stand beside the bed and put the bottle on the nightstand. When she looked at him her breathing hitched at way his eyes were clouded with arousal. “Please.” She whispered as he dragged a lazy finger over her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts until he stopped at the edge of her panties.

“What are you begging for?”

“You.” It was a needy whine falling from her lips, and in any other situation she would have been embarrassed but it seemed to work as Aaron started to unbutton his shirt. She took the small victory, wanted to sob in relief when he moved on to his pants and boxers.

“Do you think you deserve any kind of relief? Maybe I shouldn’t touch you at all, make you suck me off until I’m coming all over that pretty face of yours?” He kneeled on the bed beside her head and her eyes focused on his hard shaft already leaking precum. “On the other hand, you have been good since you got home.” He mused as if she wasn’t even there, his fingers tangling in her dark hair and pulled hard enough to make her gasp. “Let’s see how badly you want it, hmm?”

Emily was still nodding when he pushed the head of his cock between her lips but she was quick to push herself up on one arm to be able to take him easier. She sucked the tip, licked the precum off him and when she heard his satisfied groan she took more of him, wanting to hear it again. She sucked him as deep as she could, not surprised when his hips jerked against her face to force more of his thick shaft down her throat.

“That’s it. Take it, good girl.” He mumbled through pleasure, his eyes fastened on hers as she stared up at him. They were teary and wide, her dark eyes blown black as she let him fuck her face. He was so captivated by the way she willingly choked and gagged on him that he didn’t notice her hand moving down her body until the moan vibrated around his shaft. His eyes snapped to where her fingers were hidden in her underwear and in an instant he was pulling out of her mouth and forced her hand against the bed.

Emily knew the mistake she had made the second his bruising grip around her wrist pressed into the bed. She jerked at the initial contact, her arousal making her brain hazy as she stared up at his angered face.

“Pathetic slut.” He hissed and she sucked in a breath as he straddled her middle. “I gave you one single order. Do not touch without permission and you can’t even do that right?” He knew he was imposing as he towered over her, made sure to check her face and body for any real distress but found none. He grabbed her other wrist tightly and pinned them both above her head. “Do. Not. Fucking. Move.” He watched as she nodded quickly, bottom lip sucked between her teeth as she stared up at him, eyes somewhere between apologetic and needy.

“I’m sorry.” She tried as he got up from the bed and moved towards the dresser where they kept their toys.

“Quiet.” He didn’t even look at her as he rummaged through one of the drawers, smiled when the metallic handcuffs came into view. “Since you’re being a desperate little whore, I think these are in order, don’t you?”

Emily’s eyes lingered on the silver that gleamed in the soft light of their bedroom. It was a second of unease that she chalked up to not wanting a punishment and then it was gone and she nodded with a pout.

Aaron walked slowly towards her, held the cuffs up and gently clasped one wrist into the cuff before lacing it through their headboard and then secured her other wrist. He watched her as she stayed still, eyes on him as she panted slightly.

“You do not come. Do you understand me?” He ripped her soaked underwear off her hips and fit himself between her spread legs, the heavy weight of his shaft warm on her pelvis.

“Yes, sir.” She agreed instantly, she knew that she didn’t deserve it, not after she disobeyed his order.

He thrust inside of her with one rough push of his hips, a groan leaving him as Emily’s body rocked with the force. His hands held onto her hips as he set a pace hard enough for the bed to move with them, a smirk on his face as Emily’s eyes rolled back and her body arched.

“Feel so good.” He mumbled as he watched the flush on her skin, one hand moving to her throat. He squeezed lightly, happy when Emily only moaned louder.

Emily felt him everywhere, his cock inside of her, his breath on her face, his skin against hers and his warm hand around her airway, pressing just enough to make her lightheaded and she knew that not coming would be impossible. She tried pushing her hips up against his, wanting him even deeper, her arms tugged against the metal around her wrists and then all of a sudden she felt a panic spreading through her body.

The familiar clinking of metal, the cold steel against her skin, she was in the warehouse fighting Ian, his rough hands on her skin, the smell of her burnt flesh, the wood that pierced her body. She remembered all of it, felt all of it and she couldn’t breathe.

“Stop, fuck stop! Red!” She was barely aware that the word left her mouth, was barely aware of anything besides the anxiety bubbling in her chest.

Aaron was off her in less than a second, his fingers already on the key that unlocked the handcuffs as he stared wide eyed at her, at first not sure what to do. He saw the panic in her eyes, her whole body trembling and he quickly laid down beside her but made sure not to touch her.

“You’re safe. Emily baby, look at me.” He waited until her eyes were on him. “I got you, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It was another few seconds before Emily nodded, her mind frazzled as she tried to make sense of what just happened.

“I-I’m sorry.” She turned into his arms, showing him that it was okay for him to touch her and his arms immediately wrapped around her body. She let herself relax into him, the panic slowly disappearing as she took slow breaths of air and let the feeling of him calm her.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He whispered against her ear then kissed her temple. “Emily what happened?”

They had used the cuffs since she came back, had done things that would be considered more extreme but the way she reacted terrified him. He felt guilty, already self-loathing as she clutched to him. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve her.

“I’m not sure…” She pulled back to look at him. “I was there, in the warehouse, it was like everything was happening again.” She took a moment to breathe, now when she started to calm she could see the worry on his face.

“I should have realized. I should have stopped.” He looked away from her but she was quick to stroke her hand over his cheek, gently made him face her again.

“Hey, look at me.” She ran her thumb over his cheekbone. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” She could tell that he didn’t believe her, his dark eyes filled with regret. “This has never happened before, neither of us would have known.”

“Are you okay?” His hand landed on hers on his cheek. “What do you need?”

Emily reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand as she thought about his question, wanting to be honest with him.

“I’m scared.” She finally said. “I think we need to discuss our boundaries again, not now, but soon.” Aaron’s hand tightened around her and pulled her closer as he nodded. “Are you okay?”

Her question surprised him even though it shouldn’t, he knew that she felt his distress as well.

“I never want this to happen again.” He mumbled and Emily smiled at that. “I-I’m okay I just, I’m not sure what I can do to make you feel better.”

“You already are honey, you stopped. We’re talking it through, there’s not much else you can do. You didn’t hurt me, it was my own brain messing with me. I love you, okay.”

“I love you too, so much.” He let her pull him into a soft kiss, felt her linger against him for a few moments. “What do you need?”

“Something sweet and you. Just lay with me?” She smiled when he pulled out a small chocolate bar from the nightstand, already prepared because she always needed something sugary after a scene. She unwrapped the candy and took a bite as Aaron pulled her on top of him. He wanted to see her face, studied her for further signs of fear or anxiety and was happy to find nothing but her gentle smile and soft eyes.

They both knew that come morning they would have to talk about everything again, go through every limit, soft and hard. But right now, Emily was content being in his arms and eating chocolate as the safety of him brought her back to herself. Aaron chose to trust her, felt how her body relaxed against him as she continued to press soft kisses against his chest, lips and face. He didn’t let go of her, only let the smell and feel of her comfort him.

#hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss smut #hotchniss #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #dom aaron hotchner #sub emily prentiss

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madlymiho · 3 years

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Since the first didn't get through, I'll try from my PC this time. Again, thank you for co-hosting this event. Can I get a Scenario with Issho and his s/o enjoying the christmas-decoration in a port and she just can't stop describing everything to him (how beautiful everything is under the soft snow and with the lights) because he can't see it and she wants him to enjoy it as well?

Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!! 😱 I honestly fell in love with the wholesome emotions of this request! 🙈 I'm happy to write about Fujitora, because that blind man deserves so much happiness 🥺 I hope this little scenario will suit you! ☺️

Winter Event #2

Words: 1444

Informations: fluff - gender neutral s/o

In your Eyes

The meeting couldn’t have been better, the harbor quite well decorated at this time of the year, the air filled with numerous scents you’re honestly unable to count. Rare are the occasions when you are able to enjoy a bit of Issho’s time, your man busy of course, and always wandering here and there between Grand Line and the New World to fulfill his duty. You know how it’s important for him, somehow to find his own place in the Navy, despite his apparent strength and his obvious intelligence skills to command the soldiers of the Government. It’s never easy to reach such a high post without having to deal with some inner trust issues from time to time, especially in such a chotic world, always in motion. Both of you believe in the mission of Issho, but as you gave him this invitation, you truly expected he would actually put aside his duty for once and clear his schedule, to finally enjoy a bit of well-deserved rest. Being under the command of Sakazuki is definitely not the easiest job in the world.

Breathing some warm air in your cupped hands, you eventually hear a rather explicit hubbub among the crowd, the tall figure of Issho appearing in the middle of the couples, the children, and the busy merchants. Of course, they are all surprised to see such a high commander of the Navy wandering in the streets of their cozy harbor. A smile curls the corner of your lips as you immediately jump back on your feet, crossing the distance to meet him half way. As always, you make sure not to enter his personal space too quickly, his perception of the world honestly different from yours, since you have eyes to see, and his only has other senses to know you’re around.

“I’m here, Issho.” You murmur with an audible voice, even if you know you really don’t have to yell that much, despite the general noisy atmosphere. It has always been your way to greet him.

He offers you a content smile, always discreet, his hand gripping his baton to keep his balance, as he eventually comes closer, his other fingers cupping your shoulder. Intimate gestures aren’t a thing he particularly display in public, but the very fact he’s here, with you, is enough to make him feel at ease. He raises his chin up, intrigued with the sound of flapping wings above his head, as you definitely notice the frown on his features.

“Seagulls are probably looking for some food at that time of the day, and they are brave enough to fight the cold.” You state with a cheerful voice, placing yourself at his side, before you wrap your arm around his. You won’t necessarily guide him, he doesn’t need it, yet you also know that he appreciates when you take the time the describe the way you see the world when you’re both walking side by side. “It’s busy today. I think we’ll have plenty to do.”

He nods, his quiet attitude always pleasant and contrasting in the middle of such a busy crowd, people thrilled and talkative, eager to discover all the new shops on the streets and the various activities offered by the harbor. Issho begins to walk, as you cautiously lead him to whatever destination who would both pick.

“I smell… Sweets.” Issho comments after a moment, stopping in front of a wooden stall. “Can you tell me what they are selling here? I know this isn’t reasonable, but perhaps there’s something we both would like to buy”.

“Aye!” You happily smile, and pulls on his arm to bring him closer, kind people immediately stepping aside, quite surprised to see a navy admiral around, making him some room as a sign of respect. “Well… Apparently, they have ginger cookies here, fresh made waffles or crepes with brown sugar and different toppings such as melted chocolate, fruits, or marshmallows! You can also pick candies; they have candy canes, candy apples…”

Issho listens carefully, more amazed with the sound of your voice, almost chirping, than the quantity of sweets displayed on the market place. He doesn’t necessarily wish to eat something, but he loves the way you sell those products with the most excited voice, as a child would describe a firework.

“Would you like a free sample, admiral?” The shop owner offers, and immediately begins to gather a few items from their stall, stuffing a paper bag with various candies to eat on their walk, quite content to see such an important man stopping in front of his shop.

Issho eventually accepts, bowing slightly to thank the man, as they both decide to keep going, the line behind them full of children, all so eager to use their berries to buy a few candies while their parents wouldn’t be too careful regarding the amount of sugar they are ingesting. You eventually leads him back in the middle of the alley, as you notice how intrigued he seems to be. You find it somehow adorable, Issho always amazed by the world surrounding him, and finding beauty in the little details someone wouldn’t even see.

“The street…” You begin to talk, because you wish to tell him everything, and share your eyes, even if it only comes with your words. “The whole harbor is decorated with shiny tinsels; they are all rolled around the light posts, falling like stalactites. It looks like ice stars falling in long drops, reflecting on the buildings behind them, giving the area such a heavenly look that it seems to be a dream.” You pause for a second, before you eventually look elsewhere. “All the ships anchored here have candles on the rail surrounding their decks, with mistletoe and holly attached to their windows, and most of the captains have opened their gates, offering tours to children if they ever wish to see how it looks inside a navy ship.”

Issho nods, silent, as usual, but listening careful to your words.

“There are so many stalls in front of the ships and the usual shops that I can’t even count them. All of them are so beautifully decorated, with angels and other items such as snowballs, starts and little imps, homemade crowns with pine branches, pinecones, and ribbons. Some of them are golden, silver, or red…” You can’t help but think that it’s quite a marvelous show, and it’s a shame Issho can’t properly enjoy all the lights of this beautiful place. “I can’t even tell you all the things they are selling as well. Homemade wooden angels, surprise gifts boxes, crafted wooden toys and figurines, fortune cards, candies, foods, spicy hot wine, bottle of various alcohol and wines, gingerbreads, biscuits, cakes in so many shapes, candles, and bouquet of winter flowers…”

He smiles to the more than detailed description, and eventually turns around, his closed eyes almost looking at your features, as you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed. You really sounded like a child for a few seconds, didn’t you.

“And you, Name,” he says with his usual quiet and appeasing voice. “What kind of gift would you like to have? It seems they have all worked hard to please their customers. I wish to find something which will always make you forever smile the way you’re smiling right now.”

“Honestly?” You immediately answer, the two of you standing in the middle of the street, Christmas Lights surrounding you like the softest wings. “I only need one thing, Issho.” You pause, your hand gently caressing the top of his forearm. “I only need to spend more Christmas like this, with you.”

You thought he would find it silly, perhaps even immature for someone so old and serious. Even though, Issho just kindly cups your cheek, his large thumb describing a small circle on your skin, as he offers you a discreet grin. You feel your heart pounding harder to this beautiful vision, his soft and intimate gesture so unexpected and yet so heartwarming.

“And I wish you keep describing the harbor during Christmas time.” He confirms, his own way to pronounce those words a timid person would have a hard time to express.

Smiling like two idiots, you eventually pull on his sleeve to drag him further in the middle of the Christmas Market, feeling on cloud nine, as you know that you found within Issho the anchor you needed. The two of you would forever remember that day, your completely intimate little bubble filled with many emotions, lucky, for sure, that you have been able to find each other in the middle of this raging storm and those desperate wars.

#one piece headcanons #one piece scenario #one piece imagine #fujitora one piece #issho one piece #admiral fujitora #admiral issho #one piece writing #one piece event #winter event #one piece imagines #one piece fanfiction #gender neutral reader #gender neutral request #beastofflevance #queued

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bookofjin · 3 years

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Annals of Chuping 1 (190)

[From Yuan Hong’s Houhanji 28]

Annals of Emperor Xiaoxian [“Filial and Offering”], Part 1

1st Year of Chuping [“Beginning Peace”]

[23 February 190 – 11 February 191]

Spring, 1st Month, xinhai [4 March], a great amnesty Under Heaven.

Palace Attendant Zhou Bi and Colonel of the City Gates Wu Qiong, argued to Dong Zhuo, saying:

In all cases the affairs of deposing and installing are great, and not attained by regular people. Yuan Shao did not comprehend the greater structure, and fearful and afraid set out and ran without having other aspirations. Now with the urgency of a bounty, circumstances are certain to make him change.

The Yuan clan have planted kindness for four generations, the students and former functionaries from their gates are everywhere Under Heaven. Suppose they gather the prominent and outstanding so as to assemble a crowd of followers. The gallant and bold will follow them and rise up, and East of the Mountains will not be possessed by Your Excellency. It is not as good as forgiving him, and designate him the Warden of a single commandery. Then Shao will delight in avoiding punishment, and there is certain to be no worries.

Zhuo considered it to be so, and therefore used Shao as Grand Warden of Bohai.

On guichou [6 March], Zhuo killed the King of Hongnong.

Zhuo sent the Prefect of the Gentlemen of the Palace, Li Ru, to advance with poisoned wine to the King, saying:

Ingesting the drugs can expel the foulness.

The King said:

I am not ill. In truth [you] wish to kill me this way.

He was not willing, they forced him. And so the King was together with Concubine Tang and the palace people to drink the drugs. The King himself sang, saying:

Heaven's Way is easy, and destiny why so hard.

Forsook the ten thousand vehicles, and withdrew to guard the border.

A traitorous subject is coercing, and fate will not be delayed.

Going away [I am] about to leave you, and depart for the hidden darkness.

Concubine Tang rose up and danced, she sang, saying:

August Heaven collapses, and Sovereign Earth crumbles.

Somebody is Emperor or King, and fate is cut short and swept away.

The dead and living have different paths, and following this [will] turn aside.

Dismayed, I am alone and solitary, and within the heart is sorrow.

Following that she wept, and those sitting there all grieved. The King spoke to Concubine Tang, saying:

You are the former consort of a king, and in the circumstances will not become the wife of a functionary or commoner. Take care of yourself, from that [I] bid farewell with you.

Thereupon he drank the drugs and died. The Emperor heard about it, he came down from his seat and thoroughly grieved.

At that time, the Inspector of Ji province, Han Fu, the Inspector of Yu province, Kong Zhou, the Inspector of Yan province, Liu Dai, the Grand Warden of Chenliu, Zhang Miao, the Grand Warden of Bohai, Yuan Shao, the Grand Warden of Donghai, Qiao Mao, the Grand Warden of Shanyang, Yuan Yi, the Grand Warden of Henan, Wang Kuang, the Chancellor of Jibei, Bao Xin, the General of the Rear, Yuan Shu, the Consultant Gentleman Cao Cao, and others all rose up with righteous troops, wanting to execute Zhuo. Their multitudes each numbered several tens of thousand people, and they pushed forward Shao as master of the oath. Shao titled himself General of Chariots and Cavalry. Cao was Acting General who Exerts the Martial.

The Grand Warden of Changsha, Sun Jian, likewise raised troops to execute Zhuo, and by the time he arrived in Nanyang, his multitude numbered several tens of thousand people. Zhuo used Jian as General who Routs the Miscreants, hoping he would be agreeable and restrained. Jian denounced Zhuo as being past his prime, and advanced to station at Yangdui. Zhuo was greatly angered, and dispatched Hu Zhen and Lü Bu to strike Jian. They fought at Jianping, and Jian greatly routed them.

Zhuo, since the troops East of the Mountains were abundant, wished to move the capital to Within the Passes. He summoned the Excellencies and Dignitaries to discuss it, saying:

Gaozu's capital was Within the Passes for eleven generations. Later during Han's middle flourishing, the eastern capital was Luoyang. From Guangwu until now there then has been twelve generations. Leaning on the the Stone-Wrapped Chamber Prophecies, [we] ought to again return the capital to Chang'an.

Among the hundred officials there were none who dared to respond. The Minister over the Masses, Yang Biao, said:

Moving the capital and changing the regulations are the great affairs of Under Heaven, and always must follow the heart of the people and ensue from what is proper for the times. Formerly Pangeng made the fifth move, and the people of Yin where altogether resentful. For that reason he composed three chapters to shed light on and explain it.

In the past when Wang Mang usurped and rebelled, he disarrayed and made chaos of the Five Constants. And in the disarray of Gengshi and the Red Eyebrows, they burnt down down Chang'an and harmed and wounded the hundred families. The population drifted away and absconded, and out of a hundred not one remained. When Guangwu accepted the instructions, he altered the capital to Luoyang, and this was appropriate for it.

Just now [we] have established and installed a sagely ruler, brilliantly raising high Han's benediction. But then for no reason to give up the ancestral temples and palace halls, abandon the former emperors' parks and mounds, the hundred families will be frightened and alarmed and not figure out these intentions. There will surely be boiling gruel and an assembly of ants, and so cause disturbance and chaos. The Stone-Wrapped Chamber Prophecies is a book of bewitching perversity, how can [we] trust and make use of it?

Zhuo changed colour and said:

Excellency Yang wishes to obstruct the strategies of the House of State? East of the Mountains, the Yellow Head-scarves make chaos, and is where thieves are rising up. Chang'an's strategic points of Yao and Han are firm, they are the important defences of the state.

Also from Right of Long [one] obtains timber, the work is not difficult. And below the Southern Mountains of Duling there are Emperor Xiaowu's old place for kilns to make brickwork, in one morning and one evening it can be managed. The palace houses and official storehouses, how are they not sufficient to talk about! The hundred families and small people, how is it sufficient to discus with them! Suppose there are [those who] go forward and come back, [we] will use our great troops to spur them on, how will they get to be by themselves?

The hundred companions all lost colour. The Grand Commandant, Huang Wan, said:

This is a great affair. Excellency Yang' speech, might it not be [you] could think about it?

The Minister of Work, Xun Shuang said:

How is the Chancellor of State enjoying moving the capital? Now East of the Mountains, troops are rising up, it is not possible to corral them in in a single day. But West of the Passes is still quiet, and for that reason we will move there to plan, as in the circumstances of Qin and Han. Stand firm and fight, without stop, and misfortune is certain to be what comes back. I will not do that.

Zhuo caused to have the ministers memorialise to dismiss the two Excellencies.

2nd Month, dinghai [probably a mistake for yihai, 28 March], the Grand Commandant, Huang Wan, and the Minister over the Masses, Yang Biao, were retired by bamboo slips.

Earlier, Zhuo made use of the opinions of Wu Qiong and Zhou Bi and selected the famous scholars of Under Heaven. When Fu and others had set out, they all raised up troops to plot against Zhuo. Zhuo considered that Qiong and Bi had sold him out, and in his heart was angry with them. Reaching the discussion on moving west, Qiong and Bi firmly admonished. Zhuo, greatly angered, said:

You Lords said [we] must draw out and employ good scholars. Zhuo followed the two lords' scheme, and did not dare to disobey the heart of Under Heaven. When the various lords arrived at their offices, they raised up troops and plotted, how can Zhuo count on [you]?

Thereupon he beheaded Qiong and Bi.

Biao and Wan were fearful and afraid, and hastened to Zhuo to apologize, saying:

It was because of small people's fondness for the old, not a wish to obstruct the affairs of state. [We] request to consider [our] shortcomings as accepting punishment.

Zhuo was not fully furious with them at the time [?], and when he killed Qiong and Bi, he had come to regret it, so for that reason the petitioned for Biao and Wan to be Brilliantly Blessed Grandees.

Zhuo used the Governor of Henan, Zhu Jun, as Grand Coachman, to be considered as deputy for himself. Jun was not willing to accept, and because of that advanced to say:

The state ought not to move, it is certainly undeserving of Under Heaven's expectations, and will complete the rift with East of the Mountains. Your Subject does not see that it is possible.

There was a minister who said:

The summons to audience was for you Lord to accept the designations, but you Lord resisted it. [We] did not ask about the affairs of moving, but you Lord put it forth. Why so?

Jun said:

To be deputy for the Chancellor of State is extremely weighty and is not something Your Subject is capable of. That moving the capital not be planned is what is pressing for Your Subject. To decline what he is not capable of, and advance what is urgent for him is what is proper for a subject.

There was a minister who said:

The affairs of moving the capital, earlier there were no plans for that, and even if there are, they have not yet been exposed. How did [you] gain knowledge of it?

Jun said:

The Chancellor of State, Dong Zhuo, arranged to make Your Subject talk about it.

The ministers were not able to bend [him] and so the great subjects of the court, and the Gentleman of the Masters of Writing, Hua Xin, and others all commended him.

Owing to that, they desisted and did not make him deputy to Zhuo. Zhuo increasingly hated him, and he feared he would certainly be destroyed by Zhuo, he therefore ran to Jing province. The Intendant of the Brilliantly Blessed, Zhao Qian, became Grand Coachman. Wang Yun became Minister over the Masses and caretaker Prefect of the Masters of Writing.

On dinghai [9 April], the Son of Heaven transferred the capital to Chang'an. Zhuo stayed behind to station at Luoyang, he thoroughly burned the palace houses, and moved the people to Chang'an.

On renchen [14 April], a white nimbus passed through the sun.

3rd Month, jisi [21 May, possibly an error for yisi, 24 April], the Chariot Drove to arrive at Chang'an. During the chaos of the Red Eyebrows, the palace houses had burnt down completely, and there was only the Exalted Temple and the Jingzhao office buildings. Thereupon they went and made the capital there.

On wuwu [10 May], Zhuo killed the Grand Tutor, Yuan Wei, and his three sons.

At that time, Yuan Shao was stationed in Henei. The Grand Warden of Chenliu, Zhang Miao, the Inspector of Yan province, Liu Dai, the Grand Warden of Dong commandery, Qiao Mao, and the Grand Warden of Shanyang, Yuan Yi, stationed at Suanzao. The General of the Rear, Yuan Shu, stationed at Nanyang.

The Inspector of Ji province, Han Fu, held a great assembly at Suanzao, wanting to make an oath. The various provinces and commanderies in turn pushed forward and yielded to each other, nobody was willing to be the one in front. The Board of Merit Official of Guangling, Zang Hong, climbed the altar holding the blood, and said:

The House of Han is ill-fortuned and the kingly guide-ropes have lost control. The traitorous subject Dong Zhuo exploits feuds to indulge in harm. Calamity is inflicted on the most venerable, cruelty flows to the hundred families. There is great fear for the loss and destruction of the altars of soil and grain, and the shearing away and overturning of the Four Seas.

The Inspector of Yan province, Liu Dai, the Inspector of Yu province, Kong Zhou, the Grand Warden of Chenliu, Zhang Miao, the Grand Warden of Dong commandery, Qiao Mao, the Grand Warden of Guangling, Chao, and others, have brought together and joined righteous troops, and together hurry to the state's difficulties.

All of us in the same oath must unite our hearts and join our strength, so as to cause a subject be steadfast, and that perished heads and lost principals are certain to not cause division. [If] there are those who pull out from this oath, they will tumble to their fate without having offspring. August Heaven and Sovereign Earth, the founders, ancestors and luminous spirits, will truly all oversee it.

The spirit of Hong's speech was sorrowful but strong, with weeping tears flowing down. Of those who heard his words, even among the squads of footsoldiers, the servants and cooks, there were none who were not excited and brought up.

Zhuo's troops were strong, and Shao and the others did not dare to be the first to advance. Cao Cao said:

[We] raised up righteous troops to punish violence and chaos, and now the multitudes have already joined together. How can you Lords be doubtful afterwards? [When we] caused Dong Zhuo to hear about the troops of East the Mountains rising up, [if he] had relied on the veneration for the kingly house, occupied the defiles of the Two Zhou, and turned to preside over Under Heaven, then even though he was without the Way in how he acted, it still would be enough to troublesome.

But now he burns down the palace houses and forcibly moves the Son of Heaven. Within the Seas shake and stir, and do not understand where to resort to. This is the time when Heaven destroys him. With a single battle Under Heaven will be settled, [we] cannot neglect it.

He guided his army to go west and fight at Xingyang. Cao's troops were greatly defeated.

At that time, the Inspector of Qing province, Jiao He, also raised troops to chastise Zhuo, [but] He and the various generals when they travelled west, did not make protective defences for the common people. When they started to cross the He, the Yellow Head-scarves had already entered their region. Qing province was flourishing and wealthy, and the army strong, [but] He looked at the robbers and ran north, not once catching the wind and dust, or mixing with the banners and drums. He excelled at divining with stalks and trusted ghosts and gods. When one enters to see his [kind of] person, Pure Talk impinge the sky. When one sets out to observe his government, rewards and penalties are in smashed disorder. The province thereupon is barren and bleak, and thoroughly becomes hills and wasteland.

Soon after, He became ill and passed on. Yuan Shao sent Zang Hong to take charge of Qing province. He consoled He's people and multitudes, and the thieves and bandits ran off and fled. Shao admired his ability, and moved him to be Grand Warden of Dong commandery.

Summer, 4th Month [22 May – 20 June], used the Great Minister of Horse, Liu Yu, as Grand Tutor.

The Prefect of the Masters of Writing, Wang Yun, memorialised, saying:

Grand Scribe Wang Li explains the Classic of Filial Piety' Six Secret Affairs. Make the Imperial Court act on them, to dispel and hold off calamity and evil. He has increasingly the body of a sage.

A decree said:

[We] have heard a king must study virtuously. [We] have not heard that Master Kong made the Classic of Filial Piety to be [like] this, and then held off evil.

Yun firmly memorialised his request, saying:

Li's studies are deep and substantial, these are the confidential mysteries of a sagely person. Act on them without reduction.

The Emperor therefore followed it. Often on auspicious days, Wang Yun, together with Wang Li, would enter to make the Emperor recite one section of the Classic of Filial Piety, and use canes and two bamboo mats to delineate the Nine Palaces on top of them [?]. On subsequent days, [he?] at times then set out from and entered them. When Yun came to harm, he then did not again act it out.

Yuan Hong says: The gods in truth are perceptive, bright, principled and straight, they comply with people and then act. For a king who esteems virtue, to abundantly make offerings to be used as banquets for Heaven and Earth can be said to be the utmost. Suppose in all regards the affairs of the Six Secrets was not the Way of a sagely person, and for a regular fellow it is in the same way still not possible, then how is it with the fates of emperors and kings!

5th Month [21 June – 19 July], the Minister of Works, Xun Shuang, passed away.

Shuang, courtesy name Ciming, was the son of the Prefect of Langling, Shu. Aged twelve, Grand Commandant Du Qiao taught him. He was recommended as Filial and Upright, and Worthy and Good. During the partisan affairs, he was proscribed and forbidden, and went in seclusion by the sea. He again went south to hide at the banks of the Han. When the partisan affair was loosened, nominations and instructions arrived criss-crossed, there was summons to be [Scholar] of the Way and Broad Scholar. In all cases he did not go.

At the beginning of Emperor Xian's reign, Dong Zhuo endorsed Shuang as Chancellor of Pingyuan. He had not yet arrived at his post, when he was summoned to be Intendant of the Brilliantly Blessed. After being in his office building for three days, he moved to Minister of Works. At that time, those who were loyal and proper had a brave forbearance, and those who held close the Way were deeply silent. Shuang had dispersed calamity at the court of Dong Zhuo, and also in the space of a ten day ranked at the pinnacle of subjects, a lordly person would use this to deride him.

Earlier, Shuang and his brothers, eight people, were titled as the “Eight Dragons”, and Shuang most of all was praised as a Ruist and for his refinement. His older brother's son Yu's fame carried weight in his generation.

6th Month, xinwei [22 July], the Brilliantly Blessed Grandee Zhong Fu became Minister of Works.

Zhuo opened up the various mounds of Luoyang and the graves and tombs of the great subjects. He destroyed the bells and bell frames that were within Luoyang city, and melted them down as coins. In all cases they did not complete the engravings. Furthermore he melted the Five zhu coins, the engravings and the outer rim were impossible to hold on to. Hence money became cheap and things expensive. One hu of grain reached several millions.

The Grand Warden of Liaodong, Gongsun Du, titled himself as Shepherd of Ping province, and erected a Temple of Shizu of Han.

When the Chanyu, Qiangqu, had been killed by the people of his state, his son Yufuluo should have been installed, [but] the people of the state installed Xubu as Chanyu, and Yufuluo went to the imperial palace to lodge a complaint. It happened that Emperor Ling collapsed, and the kingly house was in chaos. Yufuluo brought along several thousand cavalry, and, together with the White Waves thieves, he robbed the region of Ji province. The hundred families had all made tall walls and emptied the countryside, so there was little to obtain by plunder and robbery. He wished to return home to his state, but the people of state did not accept it, and he thereupon halted in Hedong.

#hhj26

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

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Okie doke so I have a lot of asks piled up but I’m gonna need to take my time with them. So in the meantime I’m gonna give you guys a few of my own personal writings while i weed through my writers block. I hope you can understand, I have fourteen prompts to get to but I am a little muddied on getting through each one.

David Headcanons

Italian food used to be his favorite when he was alive. Santa Carla was flooded with immigrants from all over, especially a high concentration of Europeans so he had experienced real Italian cuisine from the few family owned joints that would come and go. When he was turned he tried to defy his vampire roots after learning that garlic didn’t hurt him- only to find out it didn’t hurt him EXTERNALLY. The tragic tango of pasta primavera in his stomach had him sick as a dog for days! Since he’s opted for other cuisines, but secretly he misses when he could freely ingest copious amounts of garlic

Outside of rock, David really loves classical music. Particularly foreign opera. Why? Because it is some of the most intense sounds you will ever hear. The melancholic arias of tortured souls left on the brink of tragedy soothe his untamed internal rage. However, he often doesn’t get to because as soon as he does Paul pitches a fit.

“Aw whaaat? Classical? Who invited the old lady to the party?! “

“Will you shut up and let me listen to my music, asshole?”

“Ooooh excuse me! Yes of course, Lord Snooty von Dickweed. Would you care for your pet poodle and a plate of caviar? Hey! Maybe we can find your balls, dude”

Of course he could just kick him out but it’s far too much of a hassle. He’s genuinely pleased, albeit subtly so, when he managed to snatch up a walkman off a victim so he can listen to his music in peace.

We’ve seen him smoke, but no one really gathers just what a chimney this guy is. David smokes practically every hour, when one burns out he just snags another. Any reason is a good reason to pull out a cigarette. Stressed? Smoke. Hungry? Smoke. Tired? Smoke. Happy? Smoke. But worst of all are his nicotine withdrawals. Seriously, do not approach him when he’s run out of cigarettes. It doesn’t matter who you are. Last time Paul tried to tease him while he was waiting for nightfall, David nearly threw him out into the sun. Withdrawal is far worse as a vampire than it was for him as a human. His restless legs get far more jittery, his back can cramp, it’ll give him an agonizing headache, and his hunger is somehow amplified.

Surprisingly, he can’t stand the 1931 film of Dracula with Bela Lugosi. Not that Lugosi doesn’t do a good job. In fact, it’s far too good. While not appearing visually the same as Vlad Dracul, the bastard who just so happened to be responsible for turning him and his friends back in 1906, his personality is extremely close. Just watching him slink in the shadows, waltzing about in that chilling Hungarian-Romanian accent boils David’s undead blood. If he’s going on the Universal monsters, he prefers Boris Karloff in Frankenstein.

Over the years David has picked up Russian and French. When you’ve been unchanged in an abandoned wreckage of a hotel for over eighty-one years, you learn to pick up a few things. Currently he’s learning German which he finds rather easy so far although he finds himself speaking a tad choppy at times. Sometimes he’ll use the wrong language and end up asking Paul to bring him the wine bottle of blood in Russian. Needless to say he was utterly confused and had to be retold in English.

Despite what one might assume, David does not enjoy having sex with multiple partners. Not polyamory, just sex in general. He finds that hollow humping up against some seasoned tart behind a bar before bidding adieu does nothing for him. If there’s no intense intimacy there’s less really keeping him invested. Now love isn’t exactly what is required, but there has to be some sort of connection to give him the desire to pursue a lover. Quality over quantity. Getting to know his partner is an exciting endeavor that allows him to take control, dominating him or her until they are utterly helpless to his will. A quick fuck is nothing but a way to kill time, which frankly he can find so many more productive things to do when he’s bored that require much more brain power and a lot less sticking himself in something, sorry, someone that he honestly doesn’t know where they’ve been.

Halloween, of course, is his favorite time of year. However he also has a soft spot for Christmas. Frankly the whole peace on Earth and goodwill towards men crap makes him sick simply because no one had ever given a crap about him, but the entire feeling of it all did give him a sense of calm. The lights are a stunning sight for sure, and he'd even have a few less shitty humans mistaking him for one of the teen runaways living on the Santa Carla streets. Well, he wasn't , but he wasn't about to tell that to some sweet old lady handing out rusty tins of fresh brownies. Who the hell could waste brownies? Not him. His favorite memory goes back to 1904 when he and the boys managed to scrape up enough dough between pick pocketing gigs to share a room at a decent hotel. The managers wife even brought them up the leftovers from their own Christmas dinner, half a roast bird, a plate of rolls, a fat bowl of mashed potatoes and some gravy. They of course were grateful, and Paul couldn't help but flirt just to kiss ass. Dwayne got Paul a new knife, Marko got David this pretty swanky looking cigarette case he snatched off some rich dick who mistook him for a shoe shiner, David found some old iron ring they couldn't sell and gave it to Dwayne, and Paul got a few bottles of rum for them to get Yuletide hammered. Sure it didn’t sound like much of a big deal, but sitting on a real bed for once by a fireplace slamming back booze and roast chicken while whooping Marko’s ass in black jack was the first time in a long time he had genuinely laughed. Since then its been particularly blase, but Marko and Paul will often make a tradition out of a few bottles of booze, throwing some cheap decorations around the hotel, and they all spend the night playing card games over some take out roast chicken and a few quick sides.

#lost boys 1987 #lost boys imagine #the lost boys #lost boys fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #lost boys #fanfic #80s movies #lost boys david #lost boys head canon #headcanon #fandom #fanfiction author

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hollenius · 4 years

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Talking Heads: Are These Guys Trying To Give Rock A Bad Name?

Having fun trawling the internet for more old interviews and things with different bands & musicians. Here’s a Talking Heads one from 1977.

Talking Heads: Are These Guys Trying To Give Rock A Bad Name?

Nick Kent, New Musical Express, 25 June 1977

TALKING HEADS: it's a term they use up in the high-rise skyscrapers that house all the cogs in the corporate machinery cranking out network television for the American people.

The big-wigs in the boardroom – the William Holdens and Robert Duvalls of Network land – have a name for the lowest common-denominator programme non-personalities – the newscaster, weather-reporters, and other old warhorses who sit head and shoulders directly on camera mouthing out their obligatory tasks. These are the "talking heads" of American TV land; utterly boring, but necessary.

Talking heads with greying hair, dabs of make-up and dandruff removed from the shoulders of their suit-jackets, they sit austerely informing the public of the nation's daily occurences – the rapes and murders, the military campaigns abroad, the latest government manouevres. No opinions, no subjective slant to their reports – they simply precis it down, feed it out to those millions of tubes and when it's over they go away, back to the bar or to the suburban home, wife and kids.

David Byrne, guitarist and singer for the Talking Heads, an American rock group, has a song that he wrote and performs entitled 'Don't Worry About The Government'. It usually gets played early on in the set, with no prefacing explanation – just Byrne's reedy high-pitched voice almost stammering "This next song is called..."

And every time he introduced it to an audience in England, certain factions would snigger or boo or howl derisively because Talking Heads after all are a NEW WAVE group and if you are a New Wave group you must write direct anti-status quo, sloganeering songs of dissent. Just like The Clash or Chelsea or...

But Byrne's song isn't like that at all.

It's about an ordinary man who owns an apartment in some American suburb and who lives a quiet, fairly inconsequential existence, going to work in the morning and returning in the evening, who gains pleasure from life simply through drinking wine with friends or reading a book. There is no hint of moral castigation, no hint of cynicism, Byrne just places himself in his character's psyche and explains himself through his song.

It's a rare talent this, something much closer to the art of the very best short-story writers, a talent that only Ray Davies and Randy Newman before him, out of all the thousands of post-war song-writers, have bothered to identify with and explore perceptively.

"I just thought," said Byrne, "that lyrics could be used to strip down conversations, just normal day-to-day converstions and dialogues, and strip away all the phoney embellishments and posturing right down to essentials so that they would actually say something directly, without having to throw in all the 'Oh yeah, baby' or 'Hey, bitch I'm coming to get ya right now' or...

"Pa-a-arty," chips in Jerry Harrison, the Talking Heads' keyboard player.

Everybody laughs.

NOT AN easy band to write about, these Talking Heads. They mystify arid confuse simply because they so patently lack any dint of the arch brand of mystique that forms a patented cloak for the rock star enigma. Four intelligent, straightforward individuals, the very straightforward nature of their music and their image is somehow unique to the genre they have chosen to work within.

Not that the press haven't attempted time and time again to write about them, almost always in flattering terms.

They emerged as a live attraction in the hot summer of 1975 when Manhattan's CBGB's had suddenly been designated the centre-point of all new-wave rock activity, and were immediately slotted in with the likes of Television, Patti Smith, The Ramones, and Heartbreakers as the pace-setters right there at the vanguard of this brave new scene. Convenient tags like 'punk' and 'art-rock' found themselves strange bed-fellows in numerous articles consummated by the inevitable bandying of the term 'minimalism'.

New York rock critics, having witnessed the ugly death of the New York Dolls brand of gashed-up rock, latched on fast to this new austerely dressed-down form of the music, and the Talking Heads, suddenly caught in the swell, found themselves holding down the cover of the prestigious Village Voice with a photograph taken at only their third gig. Inside was a rave-review of said show with an extensive article.

Since then, coverage has been as extensive as it has been perplexingly unforthcoming in regard to mere bottom line info on what the band were actually all about.

What was disclosed was that the band was a trio then, led by the angular, neurotic-looking Byrne who carried all guitar, vocal and composing chores, while the bass-player was a slight blonde-haired girl called Tina Weymouth whose basic feminist features were undermined by a slightly asexual manner. Drummer Chris Frantz was baby-faced and pleasantly effeminate.

Their music, though, seemed incapable of being pigeon-holed and continually presented reviewers with a daunting problem.

Having witnessed the band on four separate occasions over this last highly successful European tour, it became at once apparent that the care of Talking Heads' repertoire – principally Byrne's songs – is not something that casual acquaintance can unveil. At first, they intrigue as much as they bemuse, but the deeper you dig the more you uncover. Like Television, Talking Heads must be divorced from pigeon-holed surroundings because there is nothing currently existing in the rock context that they can be favourably compared to.

Byrne's melodies are so insidious that they often totally by-pass the conventional quarters that rock music usually attempts to stimulate, instead going deeper, often lodging themselves in your subconscious. One song, after I'd witnessed the band only once at the Rock Garden, somehow kept manifesting itself in my dreams – this strange, utterly disarming descending chord motif would haunt me until I'd wake up desperately trying to recall it. It was only later that I even got to learn the song's title, 'The Book I Read'.

THIS IS how the band's music works – in a way that transcends conventional avenues of 'rock criticism' where parallels to established musical forms become redundant and trite. When one has finally achieved some intimacy and contact with the repertoire, the music alone is overwhelming at times. One song – Byrne's 'I'm Not In Love' – twists and turns, its twined guitar rhythms chattering and spitting like snap-dragons with sudden unsettling changes, its chorus brash and pointedly announced – before it charges off, climaxing in a devastating one chord richochet of sound. Each song takes on a personality of its own as one becomes more and more acquainted – the jagged paranoid thrashings of 'What Is It?' full of technical malevolence, the richly textured abrasive changes of 'No Compassion', that utterly disarming motif to 'The Book I Read'.

Similarly the lyrics make themselves apparent in this same insidious fashion, via sudden dazzling couplets or single lines that grab you as Byrne's introvert-gone-psychotic delivery tortuously builds up and up, eyes reeling like wild horses in a flood, his pitching often totally awry but his sheer intensity galvanising because this man is truly grabbing hold of his songs, each and every utterance, like a drowning man grabbing straws.

Byrne's performance is, in fact, full of the tortured passion and gut-commitment that many of us were hoping for and found so disappointingly lacking in Tom Verlaine's recent shows in Britain. Like Verlaine, Byrne is totally the master of his chosen medium, yet there is an edge to Byrne that is so much more human.

Where Verlaine is oh-so calculatingly distant, Byrne's thrashing desperate need to communicate his songs grants his music a whole other dimension of sheer humanity and warmth a million light years removed from the cold arch-romanticism of Television's guiding light.

OFF-STAGE, sitting with his cohorts in Talking Heads, Byrne exudes all the cooped-up mannerisms of a caged bird. He seems to be suffering from some arch nervous defect that would need a constant ingestion of valium to assuage. Twitching almost, he sits hunched up in a chair, ungainly like a parody of look-alike Tony Perkins. When he talks, his voice is weak and reedy and often his attempts to explain certain facets of his songs – particularly his lyrics – lead him into weird tangential awkward ramblings that cause other members of the band, Tina Weymouth in particular, to open displays of ridicule which make him even more edgy. He looks embarrassed and bows his head slightly.

Observing him, I can't help feeling concerned for his obvious discomfort, as if any form of socializing causes the man to undergo real psychic pain. He later admits to the gross discomfort of what is really just a fairly casual conversation, and claims that performing affords him infinite more relaxation.

"I can express parts of my personality on stage that I would never dare do in any other context."

Byrne's past remains obscured by the haziness of his own recollections. He talks about working in art galleries in the past, though he didn't in fact paint, while he claims his previous vocation while in college was to write up detailed questionnaires, until song-writing became an infinitely more agreeable pastime.

In contrast, the other three members of Talking Heads carry themselves in this social set-up with an ease and general open-ness.

Tina Weymouth appears fairly disinterested at first, more concerned with scanning the pages of the latest Oui, but is suddenly forthcoming when a question is either directed her way or else grabs her attention. Chris Frantz seems perfectly in sync with the whole interview routine, lavishing over most of his answers with great and entertainingly 'camp' detail.

And then there is Jerry Harrison, the newest member in the group, a veteran of only six months or less, but who has already obviously orientated himself into the consortium with great alacrity. Harrison is the most locquacious of the band and, with Frantz, the most forthcoming. His history as a musician is already full of worthy fodder for discourse, since he started his career as an integral founding force with Jonathon Richman in the Modern Lovers, about whom his reminiscences are nothing if not extremely witty.

"Well, you probably know that we started the Modern Lovers as a real cause – y'know, we were anti-drugs for a start, due to the fact that at that time in the States all the kids were just oohing themselves on quaaludes. So we'd go onstage and start our sets with this number called 'I'm Straight' which would immediately cause all the audience to start throwing things – oh, rotten fruit, bottles, cans, anything – at us."

The Lovers' history was short due firstly to their corporate snooty attitude to playing clubs of the ilk of Max's Kansas City – "We didn't want to be associated with the N.Y. Dolls or this or that...so we never played anywhere" – plus the traumas that followed the band being signed by John Cale to Warner Bros, who after financing an album (produced by Cale – it was finally released last year by Beserkley) decided to drop the band, leaving them penniless in Los Angeles.

Even when the album was being made, Harrison claims there were problems.

"Well this was around the time when Jonathan was starting to want to write and sing only happy songs (laughs). So there'd be continual arguments between Cale and him over how we should sing certain numbers. Cale would be saying 'Now, Jonathon, I want you to sing this in a mean way. And Jonathon would just look at him, y'know – 'Mean? I won't sing mean! I don't feel mean!"

"And he (Richman) kept going through changes of direction. Like one time he'd be totally into the Velvet Underground and early Stooges, and then he was suddenly enamoured with Van Morrison's Astral Weeks and he'd want to alter his whole style. Also he's a total astrology freak. You know that song, 'Astral Plane'? Well he was always having these visions – or so he said – and writing songs about them. Things like....oh God (he starts laughing again) 'I saw you by, the waterway, the waterway, the waterway' – just on and on. We'd have to tell him to forget it."

After the Modern Lovers broke up, Richman briefly went onstage backed only by a bunch of kids beating rolled-up newspapers in time to his songs, before disappearing altogether for a long spell to (according to John Cale) lock himself in his bedroom.

When Harrison is asked whether he feels more comfortable being in Talking Heads than Richman's motley crew he simply sighs, "Infinitely."

MUCH OF the conversation is taken up with the subject of the British New Wave and how the remarkably civilised T. Heads have found themselves having to cope with the more agressive elements at their concerts, particularly as they've been supporting the head-banger's friend, The Ramones.

Seems the atmosphere has never actually soured and that circumstances have been pretty agreeable all the way along.

From the other new wave bands of this country, T. Heads claim not to have incurred any particular animosity.

"Only Rat Scabies has caused a scene," claims Weymouth. "He appeared backstage at the Greyhound in Croydon and tried to get one of us to fight him. When we showed ourselves to be totally disinterested in that course of action, he contented himself with spitting on the floor and walking out. I felt rather sorry for him."

Meanwhile back in New York, the band have yet to break out of the New York club circuit set-up they've been working in for at least the last two years.

A record deal with Sire (whose head, Seymour Stein, is the only executive to have fully committed himself to the New Wave, having also inked The Ramones, Richard Hell, and now, apparently, The Dead Boys, – a Cleveland pastiche of England's punk excesses) has produced the single 'Love Goes To Building On Fire', an addictive though comparatively slight song from the band's repertoire.

A Talking Heads album however is scheduled for September release produced by Tony Bongiovi and with five backing tracks already in the can. Ten tracks are scheduled – all Byrne originals including 'Pyschokiller', 'The Book I Read', 'No Compassion', 'Happy Day', and 'I'm Not In Love', the only unfortunate matter being the probable exclusion of the band's brilliantly terse rendering of Al Green's 'Take Me To The River'.

The band are still a guaranteed sell-out at C.B.G.B.'s on any given night, a not inconsiderable feat as many other similarly prestigious local bands are unable apparently to do the same – and on their own minor league waterfront they've gauged a strong cult audience.

But then there is something extremely addictive about this band's music – potent enough to make Byrne an object of paranoid fear in the eyes of Tom Verlaine (who according to Weymouth is very nervous of Byrne's status on the New York scene – as perverted a compliment as anything that can be divined from Verlaine's psyche one supposes). Meanwhile Byrne is also considered the most singularly brilliant new songwriter currently in the States by John Cale, and even Lou Reed has lent a sizeable quota of suspiciously paternal advice.

Weymouth: "Yeah, I'd say he was actually genuinely trying to help us. I wouldn't say he was trying to rip us off, for example."

Byrne: "That's not true."

Weymouth: "How can you say that, David? I mean..."

Byrne: "Because he told me he ripped some of my ideas off. Not that I'm angry or anything."

How did the...uh gentleman go about this paternal business then?

"God...he'd invite us round to his apartment and insult us for a solid hour, particularly me. He'd always insult the clothes I was wearing, or my shoes. Then after that, he'd start to be more reasonable and actually have an agreeable conversation with us."

Byrne goes silent for a minute and then, for the first time, he seems calm and relaxed.

"Do you want to know...I'll tell you how much we've come on in the last two years, the real symbol of progress in Talking Heads, Now I can go round to Lou Reed's apartment and I can be rude to him!"

#talking heads #articles #david byrne #jerry harrison #tina weymouth #chris frantz #new musical express #nme #1970s

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aj-the-satyr · 5 years

Text

A Pleasant Evening

(YAY! Day 5 of The Night of the Living writers. Today’s prompt: Tonight )

Maximus smiled at the turnout, it hadn’t been very difficult to convince the High King to put on a feast in order to celebrate his being here a year. The King seemed to enjoy celebrating his people and the stability that had come after Maximus’ appointment was certainly something they felt worthy of an evening of merriment. Maximus was also enjoying this, but perhaps had a more personal reason for wanting to celebrate his length of time here.

He leaned against a wall watching the various lords, ladies, barons and others mingle and talk noting the occasional glances his way. He returned smiles and nods and was quite happy to note how accurate his findings had been as certain people gathered together in what they thought were subtle groups. He wasn’t at all surprised when a waiter offered him a tray with a singular goblet on it.

“Lord Barrins has offered a glass of one of his private reserve bottles to mark the occasion.”

“Has he?” Maximus had to fight back a grin. “How very generous of him. I will have to thank his grace for his generous gift.”

The waiter bowed and left. Maximus felt sorry for them, an unwitting tool used in an assassination attempt. He decided to have a little fun with the wielder, after all tonight was his night.

Lord Barrins was easy to spot, even if he were a peacock among peacocks. Everyone using a gathering as an attempt to prove that they were ahead of the latest fashion trends and everyone else merely followers. Maximus cut his way through the room avoiding contact with those he knew would want a poem or two before letting him leave their side. Normally those people were a delight, but right now he had another form of entertainment in mind. Maximus took note of a couple of disgruntled looks as he approached. “Lord Barrins.”

The man turned and hid his surprise well. “Maximus! Come to regale us with more of your work? One would think that you would have had enough of that tonight? Relax. Eat, drink and be merry.”

Maximus bowed his head. “No my Lord I am here merely to offer my thanks at being treated to some of your famous house reserve.” He raised the goblet and noted that it very quickly became the center of attention.

Lord Barrins waved a hand. “Nonsense. It’s a celebration. It is a shame that I only could bring one of the smaller bottles or I could have gifted you more than a mere goblet full.”

“Well the gesture is most appreciative. Wine is your business after all and if that is all that was ready I thank you for thinking of me at all.”

He chuckled. “Were this a less suddenly announced gathering I might have had the time to do more. Alas. I hope you enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Maximus smiled and downed the entire goblet. He felt the poison almost immediately. They really wanted him dead at this point, to the point where they would risk so public an attempt. His Ratkin biology fought against the foul substance and he knew he would be rather ill later tonight, but for now he had their rapt attention. “Rather acidic. I fear you are losing your edge in the winemaking business.” He leaned in closer to the Lord who was now visibly uncomfortable. “And we all know how dangerous that can be don’t we?” He whispered before smiling to the group. “I suggest you all get in line, or I will be forced to remind you all where those lines are drawn. Good evening gentlemen.” And with a smile he left them to their stunned silence handing off the goblet to a member of the staff he knew by name advising them to get rid of it for it was now unusable. Tonight might have been fun, but the new day would bring new challenges and the rumours that swept through the kingdom gave him far less comfort than the poison he just ingested.

(Yay thanks again to @thenightofthelivingwriters for the prompts and today’s one simply flowed so well with yesterdays. :) More of Maximus being his arrogant, assholish self. Gonna poke @the-bearded-hylian again since I am writing in his game world. And once again to all the writers out there..... KICK WORDS AND TAKE ADJECTIVES!!!)

#TNLW #the night of the living writers #Writetober #Maximus Delapore #d&d character #Yay writing #My Writing

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kyliehorsegirl · 6 years

Text

The Langdons (Michael Langdon x Reader) Finale to Black Wedding REQUEST

A/N: Long awaited prequel to Black Wedding This COMPLETE the Black Wedding series. I hope you enjoy!

Requested By: @ophelialangdon

Warnings: Death

Word Count: 1733

BLACK WEDDING: If you have not read the series or want to get caught up read them here Part 1 & Part 2

***************************************************

“We are the Langdon’s and we represent the Cooperative.”

Langdon. It’s a powerful name. A name that people fear, a name that people respect. One Langdon is powerful, two Langdons are dangerous, but three, three are living nightmare. It breeds for chaos, destruction.

It had been almost 4 years since Y/n was offered up to Michael. He loves and adores her more than anything. Except their child, he would do anything for his wife and son. And Y/n would do anything for Michael. She finally understood why Cordelia wanted her to learn about Michael. She knew everything about him. Everything. He allowed her to enter his mind, to feel his emotions, the pain, to see the memories and she understood him. She felt his pain in her own.

She would never betray him. He was her everything and now, so was their child. A beautiful child at that. He reminded her of Michael. Unbelievably beautiful for a child. She knew why Michael hated the world and she didn’t blame him. She wouldn’t consider herself evil, but she was not good by coven standards.

The Outpost. Full of incredulous, obnoxious humans, undeserving of having safety. Y/n knew why they were here. She could sense them from the minute she walked in. There were more supernatural beings in here then she realized. Witch; Coco, Dinah and Evie. Mallory, Y/n wasn’t sure what she was, but her power was very strong. It was reserved however. The others she couldn’t quite tell. Andre, Mr. Gallant, Emily and Timothy.

People grew to like Y/n. When she married Michael and became respectable, she let go of her sarcastic and viper-like personality. She began to open up just a bit. More or less a tactic of theirs. Y/n would make them feel comfortable and Michael would strip that away with a mere look.

Michael felt exasperated just being in the outpost. These moronic people with a small brain capacity. He was happy to have his beautiful and loyal wife by his side. He would watch as their child would draw on the floor with the fire crackling behind him. Y/n sat on the floor with her son, a glass of wine next to her on the stone work. It brought him joy to watch them interact. His beautiful wife and his beautiful child.

He allowed Y/n to be in on the interviews. Their son nestled safely in bed. Michael basically wanted Y/n in his lap at all times. To feel her. She advised against that, seating herself at the fireplace. She watched from a distanced. Michael was able to elicit fear in every person he interviewed. They would often glance to Y/n with the hope a reassurance, and all they would get is a dark look and a flash of white eyes. To say it scared them was an understatement. The occupants never spoke to each other of how the Langdons were to them in their interviews. Now, they feared all of them. If Michael and Y/n were like this, who knows how the child could be. That was risk they didn’t want to take.

The Langdons, they made people fear them, love them. The old saying was people either want to be you, kill you or fuck you. Everyone at the outpost felt that way. They were a force to be reckoned with. Ms. Venable did not like the Langdons. She felt they were haughty with their behavior. Waltzing around her outpost like they owned the place. (well, they did.) She always watched them. They were mysterious and elusive.

The Langdons. The anti-Christ and a powerful witch. Their child was nothing short of remarkable. Excelling fast in all talents. He was the balance. An equinox. Just enough bad to balance out the good, just enough good to balance out the bad. This made their life as a powerful family stupid easy.

Michael had told his darling wife of his plan to poison everyone.

(Side note: We are going to pretend the apples are already poisoned because you can NOT be POISONED by a snake’s VENOM. In the show they used an Eastern Indigo which is not a venomous snake. Venom is INJECTED into the bloodstream and poison is INGESTED! Sorry I am an animal educator and so that scene trig-gered me. So, in case you didn’t know that, there is a science lesson for you)

She couldn’t agree more. They knew the witches would come for their sisters. Why not let them suffer? The coven casted an identity spell on the three witches. Mallory, Coco and Dinah. They didn’t know that they were witches, but the Langdons did.

Michael inducted his plan into Ms. Meade’s programming, knowing that she would tell the plan to Ms. Venable, the rotten woman would happily poison everyone in sight. A selfish, greedy, troll-like woman. On Halloween night, Michael was typing away at his computer, their son in bed and Y/n sitting by the fire in content. Turning away from his laptop he sees his beautiful wife, adorned in the light of the fire. Everyday he falls in love with her all over again.

“Come here darling.” She looks up to him a look of true love ever present on her face. She gets up from the fireplace and glides over to him. He brings her to sit on his lap. He rests hands lovingly on her thigh and lower back. He closes his eyes and breaths her in. She could tell he was getting a little tense. If he didn’t already want to feel her presence, he needs to feel her when he is stressed. Y/n is like a drug for him, she can keep him calm or help him relax.

She watches as the tension in his shoulders is lifted away, the shoulders fall back down to earth. His eyes open, hooded and lazily looking at her. A smile, one that doesn’t leave is swiped across her face. Y/n curls herself into his chest. He brings both arms around to hold her tight. His face laid in the nest of her hair. He breathes her in.

“It’s Halloween.” He mumbles in her hair. She plays with the fabric of his pants.

“I know, I love Halloween.” He looks out into their open room, seeing all the space. Pushing her slightly, he looks into her eyes.

“Dance with me.” It wasn’t a question; not like she would’ve denied anyway. Her smile grows, she dismounts from his lap and offers a hand to him, he cocks his head at her hand. He grins and reaches out for her hand. Y/n pulls him to his feet, giving a quick bow. He shakes his head and chuckles at her silliness. They glide to the center of the room. A hand at the small of her back, pressing her closer to him, a hand on his strong shoulder and their hands intertwined.

“We don’t have music Michael.” She looks into his eyes, they are mischievous. He gives a glance to the record player.

I Put a Spell On You- Annie Lennox

She looks from the player to him. Shaking her head, she grins at him wildly. He can be just a silly as she can. The average person wouldn’t know this is his way of being silly, but she knows and that’s all that matters.

I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine

They sway to the rhythm of the music.

You better stop the things you do

I tell you I ain’t lyin’

No, I ain’t lyin’

He extends her our and spins her back into him.

You know I can’t stand it

You’re runnin’ around

You know better daddy

I can’t stand it cause you put me down

Oh,oh

She looks at him in the corner of eye before he spins her back out, allowing her to face in front of him again. They dance all over the room. Fading from their room, the occupants of the outpost play bob for apples, poison apples little do they know.

I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine

Oh, oh

Venable watches as everyone gets their own apple. She waits for them all to take a bite together. All dressed in Victorian, the occupants begin to bite pieces of their apples.

You know I can’t stand it

You’re runnin’ around

You know better daddy

I can’t stand it cause you put me down

Oh, oh

Michael and Y/n continue to twirl around the room, smiling at each other knowingly as they sense the occupants dropping like flies. Her dress floats around the room, his hair ever so slightly bounces in movement.

I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine

Choking, gagging and vomiting. The lot of them begin to fall as death overtakes their bodies like a cruel lover.

You know I love you

I love you

I love you anyhow

And I don’t care if you don’t want me

I’m yours right now

They foam at the mouth as the fall to the floor. Dead. Venable smirks as her and Ms. Meade make their way to the Langdons’ room.

I put a spell on you

Venable enters the room without permission, seeing the two lovers dancing without a care in the world.

Because you’re mine

“I’m making the decisions now.” Venable is cocky. Michael stops dancing with his wife. An arm around her waist as he brings her close to him, protectively. He doesn’t have to, nothing will happen to her, but its an instinct and a good one to have. He laughs at her and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry I wanted to let you have your moment, I just couldn’t hold it in.” Y/n smirks, and flashes her white eyes to Venable. Venable takes a small gasp before composing herself.

Because you’re mine

“Ms. Meade?” Venable stands tall as Meade aims a gun at the Langdons. They smirk in unison, tilting their heads eerily to Venable.

“Ms.Meade!” The gun points to Venable. Venable looks at the Langdons with wide eyes. A loud bang. Blood pools at Venables chest, staining her white blouse. She falls to the ground, dead.

Because you’re mine

Ms. Meade looks to the Langdons, their eyes trained on Venable’s body, before two sets stare at Ms. Meade. Her eyes wide, in shock. Her memories flow, knowing her purpose now. To serve the Langdons.

Ooooh yeah

*************

Hope you guys enjoyed! This COMPLETES the Black Wedding Series. Snakes is still an on going series, I am still writing one-shots as well as going through my requests. Read more fics on my MASTERLIST

Black Wedding Tags

@ophelialangdon

@melanicullenn @bucknatlarry @creepy-jazzy @valentinevirgo @del-rcys

Langdon Fic Tags

@delicatefishtreedream @skullchik89 @wth-trippy @teenagevampirebouquet @glamorous-without-the-guilt @first-son-of-finwe @aerite @no-salvation-no-forgiveness @albeeox @shado-cat @bryandechartisasmolbean @beautifulagatha @majestichoechlin @homeschool-prom-queen @the-captain-kidd @creepy-jazzy @spidey-starky @envyskitty @depressed-comics @bookwormstrawberry @scarletraine @quione3 @artisticlales @superwarsofthrones @hxdesworld @thebatshitcrazyfangirl @sexxxychiq @michael-langdon-is-daddy @justanotherdaydreamersoul @honeybun5801 @lost-in-the-stories @multi-madison @agb-random

If you are not getting tagged your blog is either NSFW (nothing wrong with that) or you are a tumblr ghost and dont have enough activity. I’m trying to make sure everyone gets tagged though.

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon x fem!reader #michael langdon #Michael langdon imagine #Michael langdon imagines #ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs8 #ahs coven #american horror story #American horror story fanfiction #American horror story apocalypse

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wakandascrystal · 5 years

Text

Cold Hands.

Pairing - Tchalla x Black!!reader

genre - Angst- next chapter smut - Spy/Assassin AU

words - 1240

summary- Tchalla falls for a Spy who is assigned to kill him but what will happen when she accidentally saves him from anther assassin? And how will Tchalla react when he finds out who she really is?

A/N - Y’all ready

“His name is Tchalla. The King of Wakanda. I think you know who he is judging on your ...Skin tone.“ The russian voice that came through the payphone assumed.

“Can you please refrain from commenting on my appearance! You want me to ..take care of T'challa Udaku, King of Wakanda?“

“Yes. You understand.“ He followed with a tone you decided not to react to.

“The Job will be done in three days I want my payment tonight.“ You said

He let out a loud laugh

“Agent Black Eagle. I'm not paying you until the job is done.Kill the Cat and then I pay you.” You let out a light sigh.

“You want me to take care of the most guarded King in the world who surrounds himself with one of the most powerful and skilled fighter the Dora. I dont care how deep your hackers search, you won't find anyone skilled enough to get that type of kill without it tracing back to you. Your chances are zero to none. Since you have wasted my time you have about 5 minutes to deposit the cash. The choice is your.“

“You're just a money hungry bitch aren't you?“

“No. Not really. It's about the principal .“ You hung up, waked to a nearby bench. Sat and crossed your legs. You were sitting in a park with huge black glasses on and a black coat. Since the weather was super cold no one questioned your outfit. You tried to stay awake since you were up last night playing the assassination of the King.

You had gotten about 4 hours of sleep. The Russian man on the phone had gotten a hold of you through your agency.

You were the best. You had gotten rid of the most corrupt and evil people in the world. You knew secrets about corporations and governments worldwide that you had to hide or who ever you told would have to die. With all that professionalism and self control. The idea of killing King Tchalla was not shocking.

You were trained for years. Black belt in karate and taekwondo. You had trained with the best Krav Maga fighters and spent time studying the human body. You knew exactly what poison to use to kill a man and the specific position to use to paralyze a man in a fighting stance. You knew how to act and play along to men’s disairs. A beautiful femme fatale.The curvy body you had made your job easy when you had to end greedy and greasy men. You hated doing that but it was very affected. In the time you sat in the park the phone buzzed with a notification

unknown number.

150 000 000 Units deposited into BlACk EgalE Account.

acc no. 329340394230429

Swiss inc.

Followed by a call. You answered.

“He will be dead in in 2 weeks days.“ You hung up again imminently disposing the cheap phone in a black plastic bag and right in a city bin.

You had already set up you trip to Wakanda. The Royals where holding a ceremony for the Queen. You had lied and said you were the girlfriends Korean politician’s son Jae who was planning to go there with you. You were going to pose as his Bodyguard and get the job done then leave. You had picked a poison because there was no way a bullet would work. It would work slowly only officially killing him 20 days after ingesting it. You would be long gone by then. In a new country under a new alias waiting for your next job.

The next day you had booked with your contacts and you let the embassy you worked for you help. You meet the Korean politician Jae and you landed in Wakanda. You were checked top to bottom by security.

Wakanda was like a dream. It was very unreal. The people were so beautiful. Skin care routines here must be bomb. The women enjoyed their natural hair or short cuts. Its was amazing. It was a shame you were here to kill their King.

On every mission you tried to distance yourself for the mission and target.You thought of them as inhuman. That was the most important rule you had for yourself.

On the night of the ceremony. You wore a black Dress that had a slit right up your thigh and had your hair in a high ponytail of black braids. You were the opposite from the other women who wore vibrate colours. The Jae who you accompanied must have been close friends with Tchalla cause he was invited to sit on the large royal table. You sat next to him time. Just eating and smiling finding the right time to lace the Kings wine.

During the Dinner you stole a few glances at Tchalla. He looked happy to his right sat his Mother and to his left sat Nakia. You had planned to Kill him and frame her. Just to kill any leads that may lead to you.

You had a plane a solid one. In a day you would be gone back to your agency and in a 2 weeks he would be dead but for some reason the King kept staring at you. You tried your best to keep a straight face but every time your eyes meet his your heart jumped.

Not in a romantic way but it was as if he knew why you were here. Like he knew his fate. His eyes were shaky and he seemed to not be concerting on the conversation he was having with Nakia. His fingers were taping on the side on his plate and you were ready to defend yourself because if he attracted you Killing him in Wakanda would be suicide.You knew you wouldn't make it out alive.

Just in a split second the unexpected happen. Out of nowhere one of the Wakanden Guards pulled out a weapon you could not make out and he pointed it to the side of Tchalla. Pulling yourself up over the table you quickly jumped to push him out of the way when you felt a numbing pain on your side.

For sometimes you couldn't really recall that you were unconscious you woke up in a strange place. White room with foreign writing all over. You were in a new robe. You taped you body to see where you were harmed just to find a huge purple bruise on you stomach.

“Miss Your/fake/name. You are awake. Please lay down. You need to rest.“ a concerned voice that came out of a tiny teen called out.

“What is this place?Im i still in Wakanda? Did i get shot? Is the ceremony over? Is the King dead?“

“Please calm down. We are in my lab. My brother the king is well ..Thanks to you. he will be here tonight after he reprimanded that murder.“ Even though you felt dizzy you could mistake the young lady for anyone else but Shuri.

“Drink this.“ She gave you a purple drink in a tiny bottle. You swallowed all the contents hoping it would help with the pain.

“I don’t know If Bast sent you here himself but what I do know is that The king is going to love you.“ She smiled and cover you with the thick blanket.

You didn't quite understand what she meant buy that but you couldn't think well as you slowly drifted of to sleep again.

#tchalla #tchalla imagine #tchalla x reader #tchalla x nakia #cheating #maybe #will see #black panther #black panther imagines #black women #Okoye #shuri #shuri x reader #erik x reader

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circus-witch · 5 years

Text

Correspondences and practicalities

Witchcraft is personal. Correspondences are great but if the meaning ‘seems’ incorrect to you personally, go with what you feel. Spell components are there to help focus and bolster your intent so if they seem wrong then there’s a definite limit on how much they can help. Likewise, it is perfectly valid to include untraditional ingredients (magazine pages, sequins, etc) that mean something to you. Is the ‘correct’ correspondence for cat fur comfort? Probably not. But soft fur from a comforting feline companion may be make a lot more sense as a spell ingredient than an unfamiliar stone or herb.

As far as correspondences in general go, it depends who you ask. If you look in enough books you’ll quickly see that the correspondences in books often don’t totally match up and the way people deal with that depends on the person. Some may eschew them entirely and try to get a feel for the energy of the ingredient and would perhaps also argue that the same ingredient may offer different qualities at different times. Others may trust correspondence lists in one or two of their books over all others because it works better for them. This may be because the origin of the meanings matches with their type of witchcraft, because other members of their coven use those books or just because it has worked well for them so far.

Also, it’s important to consider practicalities in a ritual. Witchcraft can be as impractical as you like and sometimes the extra effort that impracticality demands can help with focus. However it is at the very least worth considering the following:

- timing: will this take long? Do you actually have the time to complete the spell if you start at the planned/unplanned time? If any objects (offerings, crystal grids, protection talismans) need to remain for a while after the ritual have I put them somewhere safe where they won’t be disturbed?

- sight: how will the area you are in be lit? If it will be dark then do you need to read anything and if so, how are you planning to do that?

- smell: do any scents used in this create a similar feel to the theme you’re going for? If you are burning anything, will the smell be distractingly terrible or smoky (magazine pages and hair smell pretty bad and if you’re unsure please double check whatever you’re burning is safe - even the humble laurel can cause death if a sufficient quantity is burned) and of course if you have pets make sure they will not end up inhaling anything afterwards

- sound: will the noises around me disturb you? Do you need earplugs or headphones? If you want music or sounds to play during the ritual are you going to start that beforehand or have the necessary remote/phone near your ritual area? Is the music library foolishly on shuffle?

- taste: if you are going to ingest something that isn’t a normal food item to you, check it isn’t toxic or able to interfere with any medication you may be taking. Even certain herbal teas can mess with some medications and conditions. Is the taste going to be disgusting and if so will that help or hinder the spell (for most it would probably be a bit of a distraction but it could work nicely to have a bitter taste to see ‘the bitter truth’ or similar)

- propriception: am I sitting/standing comfortably and will I be comfortable for the duration? Is everything I need for the ritual close at hand and easy to access?

- touch: are the anointing oils or anything similar safe for my skin? If there is a fire, am I somewhere where the heat and smoke won’t bother me?

- environment: will I disturb anyone or anything? Will they disturb me?

Also, it’s not a terrible idea to do a checklist of items you are going to use and checking them off before you start a spell. Sounds unnecessarily boring but it can be very annoying to be in the flow of a spell and realise you’ve forgotten half your stuff. If you like records (me) but also tend to make up the wording of spells in the moment (sometimes me) then a pen and paper are good things to have too. That way you can write down the spell pretty much as soon as you’ve said it, particularly good it you need to wait around anyway for a candle to burn out or to finish drinking a cup of tea or wine.

Anyway, all this stuff is just what I have found to be true for me or things that would have been useful for me to know when I started. Your mileage may very much vary and that’s kinda the point - as I said at the start, witchcraft is personal.

#witchcraft #grimoire #witch tips #baby witch tips #opinion

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spicemommy · 6 years

Text

Drarry Fic Rec Masterlist

In no particular order, I decided that I would put together a list of fics that I found amazingly entertaining for others to read and even to look back on myself! Will be continuously updating.

(Here is a link to my stucky fic masterlist ^^)

You Cannot Save People, You Can Only Love Them by heyitsamorette - Rated E - 51K

Upon returning for Eighth Year, there are so many strange things going on with Malfoy, Harry doesn’t know where to start. He won’t talk to Harry, but he’s talking to ghosts. He won’t apologize for his past, but the Black Family tapestry has crossed him off its tree. And the worst of it all, he still has that infuriating, snotty mouth on him that gets Harry’s dick hard as a rock drives Harry insane.

-I loved this fic so much! It’s got a perfect balance of mystery and romance and Sex. This fic probably has some of the best sex scenes I’ve ever read? 100% recommend!

Written On The Heart by who_la_hoop - Rated E - 113K

Harry doesn’t mind that so many Slytherins from his year have returned to finish their NEWTs, really he doesn’t. It’s just – do they have to be so friendly? He’s not prejudiced, really he’s not. It’s just – they’ve got to be up to something, right? Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him.

When he’s hit by an illegal love-spell though, Harry finds he has more to worry about than whether or not Blaise Zabini actually wants to be his friend. For if everyone affected has been blessed – or cursed, by the look on Malfoy’s face – with a magical tattoo revealing the name of their soulmate, what does it mean that Harry’s skin remains completely bare?

Sex, Lies, and Veritaserum by lettered - Rated E - 17K

This entire fic is one long conversation about sex.

Hey, Potter by SunseticMonster - Rated M - 16K

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his 8th year, determined not to let Malfoy get to him. But when the snarky teasing starts up again, Harry finds that returning the jibes with compliments has a far more interesting outcome.

Mental by sara_holmes - Rated M - 186K

Harry has had quite enough of sharing his mind with someone else, thankyouverymuch. A miscast Legilimecy spell says otherwise.

Owned by JordanGrant - Rated E - 420K

The Malfoys have always been owned by the Potters. Strange? Yes. But true, and coming true again. Harry finds himself with no alternative but to claim Draco for his very own slave.

Less weird than it sounds! It’s actually very sweet and heartfelt.

Cabin Fever by sloppybitch - Rated E - 15K

“We’re trapped. We’re fucking trapped!” Malfoy exclaimed, throwing his hands above his head and turning away in disbelief. “I’m trapped in a fucking love-cabin with Harry Potter!”

Harry and Draco end up trapped in a twisted, perverted, and royally fucked up house in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, also known as a Love-Cabin. Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound - Rated E - 149K

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

The Boy and the Sleeping Prince by phoenixacid and Writcraft - Rated E - 26K

Harry is miserable and tired of being an Auror, coasting through life until he’s forced to make some changes. Spurred on by his passion for drawing and working with best-selling author Draco Malfoy, Harry develops a charm which gives children a magical, interactive reading experience. But when it’s time to test the spell, the two men find themselves trapped in a nightmarish fairy tale world. Can they escape unscathed, or is Draco right in his assertions that there is no such thing as a happily ever after?

This fic gave me chills - it truly terrified me. I 100% recommend a read if you’re into dark things.

Right Hand Red by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill) - Rated E - 73K

Harry felt Malfoy’s breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory.

Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy.

Malfoy felt inevitable.

Phoenix Repair Services by carpemermaid - Rated E - 20K

Phoenix Repair Services — We’ll bring it back to life as if it was new! Draco hires a suspiciously private wizarding handyman to fix his kitchen when he returns home to find it destroyed. He expects a middle-aged wizard with greying hair and a pudgy gut to show up. Instead, he gets Harry Potter—with a utility belt and a charming smile—who is more attractive than he has any right to be.

Just Go With It by chibaken and loveglowsinthedark - Rated E - 3K

Draco is a telemarketer who calls Harry trying to sell him stuff; phone sex ensues.

The Heart’s Honest Truth by bixgirl1 and carpemermaid - Rated E - 16K

“Don’t you think I would have gone to Pomfrey if I thought she could help me?” “Then what can I do?” “I nee—” Malfoy broke off with a soft grunt and a pained expression. He took a shaky breath and tried again, his voice wobbling. “Will you touch me, Potter?”

Draco is cursed to speak in questions. Well…Spelled, thanks to the stupidly improper archival practices of the fourth century. Harry Potter is there to save the day, but Draco isn’t going to give in to his help so easily. Fortunately, the method of saving might be more satisfactory than Draco expected this time.

Draco Malfoy, It’s Your Lucky Day by Faithwood - Rated E - 37K

Even though he’s unarmed, injured, lost in the Forbidden Forest, and facing a possible murder charge, Draco Malfoy gets lucky.

101 Ways to Heal Your Wizarding Woes by who_la_hoop - Rated E - 26K

Harry is a trainee Auror, and Draco is living at Malfoy Manor, bored and petulant with nothing to do, and no career prospects. Draco’s attempt to heal himself via Muggle psychology – including writing a series of ‘why I hate you’ letters to Harry – backfires when an overanxious house elf delivers the results to Harry. Harry is bemused, Draco is angry and together they have a lot of issues to work out.

Strange Bedfellows by hurt_mod and ravenclawsquill - Rated E - 30K

When Harry encounters a frail and fidgety Draco Malfoy at the Ministry, he just knows something is wrong and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it. A story about Deadly Nightshade, crippling insomnia, excellent wine … and finding what you need in the strangest of circumstances.

Weeds or Wildflowers by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill) and sdk - Rated E - 17K

A perfect match, a romance for the ages, with a one hundred percent success rate! Magic Match claims they can give Draco all of this. So why do they keep sending him on dates with Harry Potter?

Sex, Happiness, Shiny Teeth and Other Things Worth Fighting For by Essie - Rated E - 30K

“Let me get this straight,” Harry peered at Dawlish over the top of Malfoy’s case file “Malfoy’s brewed a potion that, erm, bottles Veela characteristics, and has without proper testing, research or Ministry approval ingested it?” Harry paused, waiting for Dawlish to nod before continuing, “Now you want me to guard him from the sexual advances of hormonally crazed bystanders, while he works on making an antidote?”

“Excellent, Potter. You were paying attention. That’s the second time this week.”

Rarely Pure and Never Simple by birdsofshore - Rated E - 28K

Harry never thought taking a job as Draco Malfoy's bodyguard was going to be easy. Add in a curse that makes Malfoy even more of an obnoxious git than usual, and Harry's got serious problems.

Welcome to the Broom Closet by incapricious - Rated E - 23K

Harry thinks he knows how his life will go: Become an Auror. Marry Ginny. Have a family. But then he sees an advertisement in the paper that no one else can see, and his life is turned upside-down. The Broom Closet: you can be anyone you want while you're there, but you won't remember it in the morning.

Kiss by heyitsamorette - Rated E - 15K

Harry and Draco are forced to kiss over and over again, because that’s just what happens to two arch-enemies around Christmas.

A Touch of Silk by raitala - Rated E - 4K

Harry has won a bet and Draco Malfoy has to serve him afternoon tea while wearing a dress. This should be amusing, Harry thinks.

At Your Service by Faith Wood - Rated E - 95K

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There's only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

The Sleeping Beauty Curse by who_la_hoop - Rated E - 152K

When Draco Malfoy falls into a cursed sleep and can only be woken – at least, according to the Daily Prophet, that impeccable source of truth – by ‘true love’s kiss’, Harry Potter knows there’s no way on earth he’s the answer to this particular riddle. Is he . . .?

Strangeness and Charm by FeelsForBreakfast - Rated E - 48K

One November night during his eighth year at Hogwarts, Draco ends up in the forbidden forest. That’s how it starts.

or: If two boys fall in love in a magical forest, does it still make a sound?

-This fic is genuinely gorgeous yet frustratingly heart wrenching. It’s written so incredibly well. 100% recommend!

Between Two Fires of Beltane by secretsalex - Rated E - 4K

As the war drags on, Draco becomes a spy for Voldemort and works his way into Harry’s good graces—and his bed. When the Order prepares to invade Malfoy Manor, Draco is forced to examine his loyalties.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop - Rated E - 70K

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

Like Cinderella, But With Cock by loveglowsinthedark - Rated E - 8K

”Oh, shit,” he groans, “This is like Cinderella, isn’t it?! Like Cinderella, but with cock. Cock instead of slippers.”

Where Harry’s hexed so that he can’t lose his erection until he sleeps with his soulmate. If only those were easier to find.

For the Greater Good by jadepresley - Rated E - 62K

When Harry and Draco discover they’ve been bonded to one another, neither one of them is prepared for the secrets they slowly begin to uncover.

Together, they learn that they can’t escape their past, or the things that have been left hidden there, and that sometimes the only way to move forward is to look back.

Moon-Eyed by loveglowsinthedark - Rated E - 29K

Draco Malfoy, Head of Veela Affairs at the Department of Magical Beings, does not do people favours.

Harry Potter, recently turned werewolf, is not “people” – not to Draco anyway.

Does Draco plan to fall in love with Harry when he decides to help him? No. Does he end up falling in love with him anyway? Pft, what do you think?

All the Sense in the World by loveglowsinthedark - Rated E - 10K

He had absolutely no idea what was about to happen. Maybe Malfoy would kick him in the face. Maybe he’d scream loud enough that the whole school would rush in and see him lying there between Malfoy’s legs with his cock rock hard. Maybe he’d hex Harry’s rock hard cock off. Hell, maybe Harry’d wake in his own bed in a few minutes with a rock hard cock and would never again be able to look at Malfoy without sprouting an instant hard-on.

Or maybe he and Malfoy would have sex.

Lumos by birdsofshore - Rated E - 41K

Harry never expected to spend eighth year listening to Draco Malfoy wanking.

Only If For A Night by sloppybitch - Rated E - 14K

Harry hadn’t set out the day before thinking, I know, today I want to dress up in a pizza outfit, get absolutely smashed beyond compare, crash my broom in the middle of the muggle motorway and then fall off of the Westminster bridge into the River Thames, and end up in hospital with Draco bloody Malfoy as my Healer but what else could you expect would happen in your best mate’s stag?

Or,

“What you did was get so drunk that you couldn’t remember your own name, fly over muggle London with absolutely no charms to protect yourself from their view, and stay stationary for long enough that a lorry fucking hit you because you were daydreaming! And then you only fell because you walked over!”

"You sound like a disappointed wife."

"You sound like you'd be experienced in that area."

check this hand ‘cause I’m marvellous by lq__traintracks (lumosed_quill) - Rated E - 8K

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

Something I Don’t Want to Stop by lq__traintracks (lumosed_quill) and traintracks - Rated E - 16K

It's Harry and Draco's eighth year, the Houses have been all but demolished in favor of unity, and they're being forced to room together. How ever will they cope?

It’s Joggers Season (Or so the Muggles say) by carpemermaid - Rated E - 10K

Everything about Draco’s life since May has been one bloody long exercise in subverting everything he’s known, that’s expected of him, in an effort to get as far away from the mistakes he’s made—the wrong choices he was forced into. He’s returned to Hogwarts to take his N.E.W.T.s and everything is different—namely, Harry Potter strutting around in clingy joggers that Draco can’t get off his mind.

Quietly, As Requested by shiftylinguini - Rated E - 5K

Harry was trying to pretend Draco’s warm thigh against his own didn’t make his heart thump and his cock start to fill out inside his usual lazy Sunday attire ― which consisted of a t-shirt with a hole in the armpit and the world’s oldest, rattiest, ugliest and most comfortable pair of joggers. In comparison, Draco was wearing a buttoned up shirt and a pair of crisp, black trousers, which made him both seem impressively attractive and also entirely overdressed for this kind of occasion. Harry lifted one knee, trying to shield the view of his slightly tenting joggers, and the state he was rapidly finding himself in.

Perhaps inviting Draco to Sunday Bad Movie night at Ron’s wasn’t that smart an idea after all.

(Reached maximum length for a post. Continued here.)

#Harry Potter #drarry #hp #mine #fic rec #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry masterlist #harry x draco #harry/draco #draco malfoy #bottom draco #dont @ me for putting my own fic in here.#masterlist

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bestfluteninja · 6 years

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actual things my teachers have said, pt. 2

part 1 here

so, in honor of school about to start again, here’s my teacher quotes from second semester last year, my freshman year of high school. enjoy.

“Day one and you’re already undressing”

“I went to college for this”

“I’ve taught one person something today”

“He looks so loose and relaxed because he’s dead”

“There was this one pope who was a total prude”

“It’s called the Great Deflowering, and they just took all the penises off the statues”

“One student said, ‘do you think there’s this basket of stone penises in the Vatican?’”

“Oh, it’s like ‘pièce’ means ‘piece’ or something”

“Do you sleep in the salle à manger (dining room)? Only if you have a very sad life”

“I don’t know why I suddenly know your restroom schedule”

“I want to get up on a ladder and touch your hair. Still sounds weird”

“And then you have Columbus or Vasco de Gama’s little ship, which looks like it’s going to be eaten by the big ship”

“Let’s go metric, which we’re crazy for not using”

“When I pass on to whatever”

“You tempt my middle finger”

“Stop talking about my coworkers in a negative way. Or positive. Just stop.”

“I almost said a word I shouldn’t”

“Nachos aren’t happening without cheese”

“We are about to learn a new tense, which will shake the foundations of everything you know and love”

“Let’s make this nice and incriminating”

“Next year I’ll have to require students to get a tattoo of their password”

“Anybody else wanna criticize my decisions?”

“Hey. Hey! HEY!...have a good day”

“After announcements, I’m going to melt your faces off, so be ready”

“It’s magic time, kids”

“I have mad babysitting skills”

“You don’t go to all this effort if you have wheat just growing in your backyard”

“The Catholic Church was into destruction”

“You really don’t wanna write it down because then you’ll cry”

“Anyone wanna help me summon the dead?”

“My mother still tells me I should’ve been a lawyer”

“Rooms and stuff, oh yeah”

“That way, when he’s an old man, people can go ‘you’re old’ and he’ll be like ‘whaaa’“

“If you’re sitting there just tapping really hard, I don’t know what your aggression is”

“I wish I had autopilot”

“I won’t make you cry”

“There were some that considered that blasphemous. Heracy. Scientific heracy.”

“The access code is cookies18 because I’m surrounded by cookies and it’s 2018″

“Thumbs down is like ‘bro why’“

“Are you having fun in art class? Stop that”

“You all think you’re gang members now”

“Something French, woman! Get it together”

“We can be like Congress and have to have a talking stick”

“Here’s a dog with three stereotypes all at once”

“I am as serious as a heart attack”

“You don’t see many of those furry little creatures around here anymore. Except raccoons. They’re everywhere”

“It’s not politics if everyone agrees”

student: “I like your shoes” teacher: “thanks, they’re killing my feet”

“Focus less on witty comments”

“If we could just hang out, I’d, like, braid your hair”

“This guy with a stick, that can’t be good”

“Spent a little too much time in the harem, if you get my meaning”

“I really do try to find anything with singing and dancing camels”

“Another creepy clown, fantastic”

“Are those flower garlands, or are they chains?”

“Oh, how progressive, that you add Hindu women to your harem”

“Probably for the release death would bring”

“Easy with the f-bomb”

“I’m gonna go ahead and mark everyone absent just because I like to mess with the front office”

“That was a pretty good airplane”

“I got too deep in a book and forgot to make your test”

“This is for your cultural education” *shows Shia LaBoef*

“You don’t know why, but you know you hate them”

“This is a holdup, pow pow pow, give me all your money”

“Screaming is the same in every language”

“Satan scares me”

“I have nothing against turtlenecks, usually”

“420, blaze it. I shouldn’t have said that, it was inappropriate”

“If you don’t know basic computer skills, you’re just doomed”

“Attacked by many animals...I can just see him walking down the street going ‘oh god not again’“

“She’s preening you”

“We don’t do midterms in here cause they’re awful”

“I love praise”

“Everything is petit pois”

“Nobody can get through the French Revolution in a day and a half except me”

“Back when the History Channel had history”

“Everyone is like ‘oh I’m so nostalgic for the nineties’ and I’m like ‘burn it with fire’“

“Feel free to email me, I won’t respond”

“Don’t hurt each other”

“She looks like a jellyfish. No! That’s so cool! I love jellyfish!”

“I felt like lying on the floor and curling up in a ball”

“Laugh. Move on.”

“Your fort should be strong, to keep the Huns from invading”

“Why are you so smart right now?”

“I have all of her anxiety and none of her skill”

“Whatever will make my parents angriest”

“What’s happening, you animals?”

“Just fractions, nothing magical”

student: *drops ruler* teacher, deadpan: “why”

“Sooner or later that bell will ring and you’ll be like ‘yo what the heck’”

“Anytime there’s chanting, just be careful”

“There’s no mentions of prostitutes in the Jamaica letter”

“I like fire, so I might burn it”

“These are in your way just to distract you”

“Don’t build your expectations up too high”

“Oh, I had alcohol”

“I want to leave with both my kidneys, thanks”

“If you would take a town out of Alabama and put it here, that’s Fortville” (we live in Indiana)

“I’m gonna start dressing like a clown to get your guys’ attention”

“Everybody needs extra money in life”

“I don’t know if you guys know this, but an essential part of living is being able to breathe”

“I’m a popcorn-aholic”

“We’re gonna do an exercise in loving yourself real quick”

“I barely even go outside”

“It’ll be terrible. You’re gonna have nightmares”

“It is a vest with fake pockets and a cape attached”

“There are very few people who are not gifted in anything”

“Please let me retire”

“If the lottery plays out on Wednesday, I might be gone by Thursday”

“Then we burnish it with a wooden spoon because I’m too cheap to buy burnishers and a wooden spoon works”

“Be mindful of when you’re leaning up against cabinets. Or get shoved into them”

“I like to touch art. Not supposed to, but I like to”

“If you go to Canada, I need you to steal a stop sign”

“I always get excited but it’s always just you, being fantastic”

(a blade from our art project went missing) “I think there are three scenarios. One, someone dropped it and just refuses to acknowledge that they dropped something. Two, someone put it in their pocket to take it home and have..fun with it later. Three, someone.....ingested it”

“You don’t steal the blades during the demonstration. You steal them during class time, when nobody’s looking”

“God, it’s snowing again”

“Can you grow poppies? Yes. If you grow 10-20 acres, the authorities are probably gonna come talk to you”

“If you had the letters for that in scrabble, that’s the whole game right there”

“Oh, Gandhi, you’re name-dropping”

“Isn’t that dog staring into your soul?”

“I’m just impressed with anyone that can wear horizontal stripes”

“It won’t be fatal drowning”

“You can have the rest of the time to annoy each other”

“We’ll cover up the ‘attack teacher’ sign so you’re not scared of me anymore”

*chalk squeaks* “sorry, forgot to oil the chalk”

“I don’t wake up in the mornings and go ‘oh, themes’“

“I am not Harry Potter’s uncle”

“If I cared, I would’ve asked”

“That’s where the Bordeaux wine comes from. Not that you’d know that, right, kids?”

“They don’t care about your happiness”

“Kay cool do stuff”

“No, I will not allow that. You cannot just eat butter”

“If I were to buy a Japanese car and drive it into my mother’s driveway, that would probably be it. She’d go toward the light”

“Since that’s all so depressing, we’ll end with a taco dog”

“I am intellectually aware that there were days when the sun came out”

“I have to get paid for this”

“I just have under a thousand dollars in my bank account at all times”

“We are French two, we are a little better than second-grade writing level”

“If you have to ask me if it’s appropriate, it’s not”

“It’s plagiarism, 100%. Don’t even care”

“For God’s sake, people, indent your paragraphs”

“It’s Morgan Freeman and Matt Damion, what else do you need”

student: “banana” teacher: “good, jenna”

*sharp intake of breath*

“Join us on the dark side of Honors English”

*shows us stick figure* “look at this detail”

“Well, that’s just magical.” minute later: “never mind”

“I’ll try to come up with a Plan D”

“In India, they love cricket, whatever the heck cricket is”

“Before I buy Shrek 2 online”

“Next thing you throw, you’re gonna eat”

“Have I mentioned your guys’ grand prize? It’s absolutely nothing”

“Nowadays you just take a selfie. This is for you. Wink wink.”

“Hey guys, say bonjour to my mom”

“She says sit down and shut up”

“He’s my scapegoat, his mom said I could”

if you read all of these, i hope you were amused. i certainly was. all of these are completely real. if you feel like it, send me an ask with your favorites

#this took so long to type up #school #public school #mine #teacher quotes #funny #humor #if u reblog this youre the true mvp

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