#i know the image quality is ass but have mercy on me

[neonra1n]

“You better not be afraid of quesadillas when i get there”

My ass:

[cinnamonest]

the way my pussy clenched when i saw albedo got a 10 on sadism 👁👄👁 could u possibly elaborate (if thats ok, if not i totally understand!)

//tw: piercing, sadism

Oh yes, hear me out!

He starts off as like... guilty? Unaware? He’s not the most social person in the world and consequently hasn’t really had these kinds of experiences before, and given his general easy-going nature he wouldn’t ever imagine himself taking pleasure in that sort of thing. He jerks off sometimes, but he gets it over with pretty quickly, never thinking detailed fantasies, he’s got too much work to do.

But you know, he has a lot of built up frustration. Generally he’s an easy going person, but sometimes, honestly, the people around him... get on his nerves. Everyone, really, he’s always keeping a calm demeanor and that monotone voice even when sometimes he really wants to just kinda deck someone in the face if he could, but he internalizes it and goes about his day. There’s just... a lot of bottled up frustration, waiting to crack... except the bottles are filled with rubbing alcohol and darling is a lit match.

It’s a combination of that, and just being prone to certain things as certain people are, an innate quality. Honestly, it’s always the quiet, reserved, calm guys that are the biggest, deepest, nastiest sadists, really, and he’s not an exception.

Now, there are three major types of guys who are “sadists.” You have 1) sadists in the sense of guys who more or less enjoy just beating the shit out of people for no real reason (I’m looking @ u Scara & Childe) bc it gives them an adrenaline high and a power rush, 2) ones who have some anger issues (Xiao, Diluc) or have trouble expressing their emotions in normal ways and have bottled up frustration (Razor, Kaeya) who use rough fucking, choking, spanking etc as a way of exerting that anger, to get it out and soothe them. Then you have 3) the sadists that just... like it, crave it, need it, deep down on a primal level that doesn’t depend on their emotional state. And that’s the most terrifying kind there is -- the kind that can stay calm while they do it, that doesn’t need to be mad or even upset to desire it. It’s somewhat rare, some people are just... a little fucked up like that. They’re a blend of the first two, because they *do* get a high from it and often are that way to get out frustration, but sometimes they just do it because they crave it and love it.

He bounces back and forth between #2 and #3, but he’s one of the only yans that crosses into #3 territory at all. And he tries to deny it, the first few times. It likely comes into discovery by accident when he first starts experimenting on darling and giving them injections, or at a time where he really does get mad and punishes them for whatever reason. The breath hitching, the sniffles and whimpers and wide eyes and tears and begging get to him and what do you know, he’s hard.

And he’s not sure why, he blows it off at first as random. But he keeps thinking about it. He keeps hearing the sniffles, keeps seeing the images in his head, and eventually is forced to accept the reality that his brain wants to witness that again. It’s a combination of things, but at it’s root, boils down to dominance and power. Plus the taboo and wrongness of it all helps, but really, seeing you vulnerable -- you’re at his mercy, and something about that just makes his blood rush.

But the calmness of it all is what makes it so terrifying. He can get like the others when he’s mad -- that is, he can get to where he’s angry and just roughly slamming into you, pulling your hair and choking you, if you push him far enough, but honestly that’s preferable to what he’s like when he’s not angry, when he just gets a craving for seeing tears in your eyes. When he’s like that, he gets into slow, almost torturous things, and he drags it out with quiet and calm because ultimately, the rush he gets comes from your fear. 

He gets into some fucked up stuff, a little bit into the extreme end. Would definitely like to shock you, either with a collar or a prod of some kind, would probably design a electro prod to jolt you with. Keeps you bound to a table, arms and legs spread out, he finds new ways to maximize your feeling of vulnerability. He fucks with your mind, and that’s what makes him different from other sadists. It’s just as much fear as it is pain. 

But he does love the pain. The buildup. The anticipation in your trembling, so much fear and knowing it’s coming, the little yelp and jolt when he finally brings down leather belts to your ass or jolts you with electric shocks. When he’s experimenting, he does the same thing for the needles to your skin -- yeah, if he’s being honest he gets off to injecting you, hearing your breath hitch, and especially if they make you cry. Stretching out your tight little cunt as far as he can, moving on to your throat, watching tears gather as you choke, the feeling of you trying to pull back, moving onto your ass, listening to you wail and whimper and cry that it hurts, just like he hopes it does.

One of the most intimate experiences he ever has, one of the hottest things that he held himself back from doing for so long because he knew he would lose control of his arousal and fuck you right there like an animal -- piercing those cute nipples. He read up on it first to make sure he knew how to do it properly, but the thought of it had plagued his mind so long he’d never be at peace until he did it. And he’s sweet about it, telling you it’ll be over soon, it’ll just feel bad for one moment, he’ll give you something to squeeze -- but he holds your mouth open with a ring gag, because deep down he wants to hear those little cries. It’s exhilarating.

It’s not that he doesn’t feel sorta bad about it at first, but again, darling’s like a lit match to a flammable bottle. He gets a high from the feeling, and he can’t control himself.

[cosmicjoke]

Ugh, okay, chapter 81 of AoT, and I’m in the corner cryin’.

But seriously, what an emotionally powerful chapter this was.  God man, it’s gonna’ take me a minute to get my thoughts in order.

Well, first of all, Erwin, and all of the recruits, watching them sacrifice their lives here was just so absolutely, emotionally powerful.  Just incredibly moving and heartbreaking.  Even after Erwin gets hit and falls, (and the panels here of him dying are truly devastating, powerful images) to see the recruits continuing to charge forward, to carry on in his stead, it really is just so intense, and as well speaks to Erwin’s own power as a commander, how he was able to inspire these people into giving their lives for a greater cause.  To see their courage in the face of certain death, carrying on Erwin’s spirt here, it truly was one of the most moving, and also one of the most heart-wrenching moments in SnK up to this point.  I felt so much for all of them.  The way Marlowe thought of Hitch too, in the end, never realizing it was because he was in love with her, ugh, my heart.

Now contrasting that, and I swear to Christ, I really, REALLY don’t understand how anyone can sympathize with Zeke given the sick display he puts on here, his cruelty and ego-driven rage towards these young men and women, and how he lets his rage towards his father fuel his violence towards these innocent people just... it pisses me off so much.  I can’t even.  I mean, Zeke is one twisted, sick mother fucker.  He’s demented, truly, the way he swings wildly between violent rage and perverse glee as he kills them, and then has the unmitigated gall to act like he feels sorry for these people, how clearly he thinks of them as pitiful and pathetic, their sacrifice as meaningless.  He treats them like their lives are pointless, and then has the nerve to play at sympathy for their plight.  What pisses me off the most about Zeke is how utterly self-centered he is.  How everything he does, everything he thinks, is filtered through his own view of the world and life, and how he never once stops to consider the lives of others, their own views or experiences.  Because he’s deemed his own life as worthless and without point, so too has he deemed the lives of every other Eldian.  He’s far and away the most self-centered, ego-driven and selfish character in the whole series.  Oh, he just made me sick here.  His own hypocrisy is equally disgusting, with how angry he becomes when Levi dares to make him pay for what he’s done.  As if he can’t believe anyone would dare cause him harm, unable to comprehend why they would even wish to do so, as if he’s some great, godly figure sent to the world to bestow his twisted sense of mercy on those he deems unfit to live.  Just the whining, hysterical reaction he has to getting fucked up. The ego on this guy is seemingly infinite.  He truly is despicable.  Just a pathetic child of a man taking out his issues on everyone but himself, throwing temper tantrums when anyone dares to challenge him on what he’s decided is right.  Fuck Zeke.  Seriously, just... fuck this guy so much.

Now, enough about him, let’s talk about Levi.

Truly, some of the most heartbreaking moments we’ve seen with Levi up to this point happen in this chapter.   The moments following him taking Zeke down (and yes, that whole sequence was epically bad-ass), just seeing the depth of Levi’s pain here was so devastating, and incredibly moving.  You can see how preoccupied he is with what’s happened.  Zeke isn’t even his main consideration or concern.  He seems almost distracted, looking back behind him, out over the field of his fallen comrades and friends, and wondering in an almost frantic, inner monologue to himself if anyone out there is still alive.  He’s hoping beyond hope that someone, ANYONE, is, so that he can save at least one person.  This goes back to Levi’s determination to keep the new recruits alive back in I think chapter 78 or 79, ordering them not to die, and then trying desperately to get those with the horses back on the other side of the wall.  It really puts into perspective just how devastating this is for Levi, to see all of these people, dead, crushed to death by rocks, all of these people who just a short while ago he had been doing everything he could to protect.  To know they had to die to save only a few.  HIs desperation here, the way he clings to the hope that at least one person is still alive, out of all of them, to be saved, the way he reminds himself that as long as they’re breathing, it can be done, if he gives them the serum, it all just drives home in the most poignant way just how pained Levi is at the sacrifice they’ve all made.  It drives home how much it’s cost Levi, to allow them to do it.  I said before that him making that choice for Erwin was Levi going against every, innate feeling and instinct that he has, the need to protect and save people.  Levi had to go directly against his own nature in order to make that call, and the consequences of that are plain to see in these panels.  His wide eyed, shocked expression, the frantic, mantra-like thoughts going through his mind, almost childlike in the way he keeps asking if anyone is still alive out there, if there’s anyone he can bring back.  And the way he thinks of Erwin specifically when he asks that, it serves as such a cruel reminder that Levi’s just given up one of his dearest and closest friends.  That he’s just willingly lost a person that meant so much to him, in order to obtain any sort of victory for humanity.   It reminds us of the personal cost to Levi.  Another person he’s lost in this battle for humanity’s salvation.  Ah, he just breaks my heart so much here.  And also how it’s that hope, that desperate wish that someone is still able to be saved, that stays Levi’s hand from killing Zeke immediately.  How it’s purely Levi’s wish to save someone that keeps him from killing Zeke then and there, it truly speaks volumes about what kind of person Levi really is, about how much he values life.  

And then of course there’s Levi’s reaction when Pieke catches him off guard and steals Zeke away.  Levi’s stunned horror, as he watches Zeke escaping is, for one, I think, because his chance to save even one life is being taken away, there before his eyes, and, of course, because the purpose behind all of his comrades sacrifices, the reason they gave up their lives, in order for Levi to kill Zeke and provide those left a means of escape, is being rendered meaningless.  We then see Levi’s stunned horror turn to unbridled rage, as he realizes the promise he’d made to Erwin is slipping from his hands.  He can’t allow for all of these people to have died in vain, he can’t let their sacrifices mean nothing, he can’t let that stand.  Once again, the depth with which Levi values the lives of other people is truly incredible, and the emotion in these panels is perhaps the most powerful example of that quality in Levi up to this point in the story.  I just felt so much for him all throughout this.  

When you think about what Levi’s been through here, too, how before he even went after the Beast Titan, he’d already run himself ragged taking down some unknown number of smaller Titans to protect the horses and the new recruits, and then in order to get to Zeke, he had to take down probably a dozen or more 12 or 15 meter Titans, before finally taking the Beast Titan down, all this by himself, it displays the strength of Levi’s will so powerfully, how much of himself he’s willing to give in order to further the cause of others.  For him to then continue to go after Zeke, after all of that, just the way he never gives up, never stops fighting, exemplifies how wholly Levi truly embodies the ideal of the Survey Corps, and the fight for humanity.  What an absolute hero he is.

[tvrningout-archived]

below are some demon slayer spoilers if you don’t read the manga, but it’s time to finally rant about chinatsu!!

i have this image in my head of a demon who knew chinatsu while she was still “ kazane ” confronting her during the infinity castle arc, and she’s already human bc you know what?? voluntary guinea pig for the lil antidote!! but the demon is taunting her of course, spouting some mess that there’s no way she’ll survive this fight/be able to scratch them now that she’s a weak ass human; they’re just trash talking up a storm bc surely she’s gone all soft and squishy now, and chinatsu just : ) goes absolutely feral : )) like “ oh really?? you think i was ruthless bc i was a demon?? that my ferocity was bc of me being a demon?? GUESS AGAIN " bc she was always like that -- she was always coolheaded, but she was also very much the kind to be absolutely brutal to her opponent, to lack mercy no matter who she was fighting bc either A. you were a demon and you had to die, or B. you were a comrade training with her, and how could you improve if she went easy on you?

becoming a demon, while altering her overall personality, did not alter the way chinatsu fought bc that quality was useful. she was just forced to redirect her ruthlessness towards humans and stripped of the snarky personality that muzan would have probably hated when they first met as enemies.

and fighting against the demons in the infinity castle, fighting alongside her fellow slayers as a human again, probably feels so!! cathartic!! but chinatsu is also seething and a lil vengeful bc this bitch really almost ruined her life and took her sister and brother in law from her, stole precious years away that she could have spent with them before the end, so you bet she’s out for blood and gunning for muzan. of course she’ll stop when she sees someone needs a helping hand, but i feel like this is the one time chinatsu actually lets her anger cloud her judgement a little.

but she definitely survives the last stretch of events bc guess what!! she deserves to be happy!! and guess what else!! she watches over amane and kaguya’s kids like a good aunt and while it’s bittersweet, at least they have each other :’ ))))

[krreader]

on the same page.

pairing: min yoongi x kim taehyung x reader fandom: bts warnings: sex ; threesome ; oral sex ; dirty talk ; spanking ; dom!tae&yoongi x sub!reader ; language genre: smut word count: 1.8k+

summary: sometimes a look is all it takes for things to be set in motion.

a/n: haven’t posted a threesome fic in a while so why not today, please enjoy this piece of pure smut! 

The topic had come up again and again, only that at first it had been something you had said as a joke. Like haha, imagine how funny it would be if I slept with one of your band members, only for Yoongi to say that he wouldn't watch, but join in.

And it continued on from there.

Jokes, hints and teasing, until the topic actually became a serious one.

“I'd like to try.. just once,” you had said one night, Yoongi's arm around you as his fingers brushed over your waist.

“If only so I can prove to you that I'm the best in this group when it comes to sex,” Yoongi had joked.

And that's how it all started.

You had began to evaluate who would be the best candidate for this thing.

Jin was the one where Yoongi didn't even dare to ask, maybe because he was older than him and was afraid that this topic would be 'disrespectful' to him, but Jin didn't really strike you as the kind of guy that wanted to have a threesome with you anyways.

Then there was Hoseok, one that you both would have asked in a heartbeat, if it weren't for him having started dating only a month ago. Same reason as to why you didn't ask Jeongguk, he also recently got a girlfriend.

Then there were only three, Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung.

But before you two could even decide on who to ask, it seemed as if it developed naturally.

You and Yoongi had decided to go out to eat tonight, you not having many chances to doll up these days, since you and him mostly had dinner at either his or your place, had decided to put in maximum effort to look absolutely flawless.

And when you walked into the living room, still putting on your jewelry, Yoongi saw the way Taehyung looked you up and down. He saw the way he licked his lips and let his eyes linger on certain body parts of yours. He saw how he started shifting in his seat, only to instantly stop doing that when he realized Yoongi was watching him.

But instead of a warning look, like he expected he'd get from him, Yoongi actually smirked at him.

The younger member thought this might be a trick at first, that Yoongi was trying to get him to be comfortable and do something that he'd regret later, but when he ended up mouthing: “She looks so good,” hoping that it comes across as an innocent compliment, Yoongi started chuckling.

Very, very darkly and very very intimidatingly.

“Did we miss something or why are they looking at each other like that?” Namjoon asked, walking out of the kitchen with his coffee.

“We should leave them to it,” Jimin said as he got up from the floor, “I'm headed out for dance practice.”

“Yeah, I’m going to the studio too. Taehyung,” Namjoon said, waiting for Tae to look at him, “When Yoongi hyung leaves you're the only one at the apartment, so don't forget to look the door.”

“Yes mom,” Taehyung grinned widely.

And it was only when both of them were out of the apartment, that you let out a sigh and dropped your bag, “You made your choice, didn't you? There won't be dinner tonight.”

“There will be.. just not the kind you had in mind,” Yoongi first looked at you, then at Taehyung, “The other members won't find out about this.. agreed?”

“I really didn’t expect my night to go like this, but I can’t say I’m complaining,” Taehyung was already undressing you with his eyes, probably already imagining what you looked like naked and beneath him.

Quite honestly, out of the three, you had wanted Taehyung the most, so you couldn't exactly say you were mad that it ended up being him who pushed you onto Yoongi's bed while your boyfriend watched with crossed arms and him licking his lips. You couldn't say that you hated it when Taehyung’s lips left a wet trail of kisses along your neck and his fingers managed to unzip and then pull down your dress and simultaneously, your panties. And you definitely couldn't say that you despised it when he started eating you out, while Yoongi unzipped his pants and took a step closer to the bed for you to wrap your hand around his hard dick and smile to yourself at how good you felt in that moment.

“Do you know how long I wanted to do this,” Taehyung chuckled against your thigh, then sucked on your clit which made you arch your back and tighten your hand around your boyfriend's dick, Yoongi sucking in a breath, “How often I heard Yoongi hyung fuck you and how often I wanted to be the one to please you.”

Yoongi chuckled, but quickly let out a moan when you got up on your elbows and took his dick in your mouth, his eyes closing and his head falling back, “Just how many times did you get off on that thought, Taehyungie?”

“I won't tell,” he chuckled, getting up but just for a moment so he could get himself a condom, undressing himself in the process. Only when he wrapped his dick with the condom did he say: “But after tonight, I'll always think about your warm and sweet pussy,” and with that he entered you and you couldn't help but let out a scream.

Because fuck.. his dick was so not what you were used to.

Yoongi was thick, to the point that he always stretched you out so much that you needed a moment to adjust to the size, whereas Taehyung was slim and long and instantly hit a point within you that made you see stars.

“Ah, I forgot to tell you, baby girl,” Yoongi joined you both the bed as well after he took off his pants, sitting behind your head so that you could easily slip his dick back into your mouth, “Taehyung is going to make you come real fast.”

Yoongi prided himself with pleasing you well, he could make you orgasm in less than five minutes too if he wanted to, despite his dick not having the same length as that of other members, specifically Taehyung. But he wasn't stupid, he knew that Taehyung had qualities that made you orgasm soon and hard.. and maybe that's even why he ended up choosing him. Because he didn't just want this to be any experiment, he wanted it to be one that you'd truly enjoy.

You had a hard and stressful week, you deserved to be treated like this.

And so you moaned, then whined with your lips still wrapped around Yoongi's hard dick as Taehyung spread your legs further apart and fucked you without mercy.

No, he didn't need to drag this out and no, he couldn't drag it out even if he wanted to, because you felt so good wrapped around him like this and you were taking him so well, that he had no other choice but to chase his height.

On top of that, the way your breasts bounced and the way his hyung's dick disappeared so deeply in your mouth and the way that his hyung moaned because of that made him want to go even faster, he wanted all parties to enjoy this.

With you deep throating Yoongi at this point, he knew that he wouldn't last long either, your tongue and mouth feeling so good that he couldn't wait to cum, the image alone of you swallowing all of it making him moan out loud.

And he wouldn't even have asked to switch positions in any way or form because of how well you were pleasuring him, but Taehyung had a pretty clear idea of what he wanted and so he pulled out and slapped two of his fingers onto your clit, making you scream out loud once again, “Turn around for me, princess.”

Yoongi just chuckled when you looked at him with big eyes, “You heard him, baby girl, better do what he says.”

And see, being dominated by one person was good and all, but being dominated by two was just a feeling that you couldn't even describe.

The way Taehyung grabbed your hips and pulled them towards him once you had turned around and the way he slapped your ass cheek before burying himself inside of you again. The way that Yoongi grabbed a fistful of your hair and made you look up at him, kiss you deeply, before he gave himself a few pumps and then pretty much fucked your face, that was an experience you would never ever forget and one that you would get you wet whenever you’d think about it.

With this new angle, it took only a few more minutes before you could feel your walls beginning to clench and your clit beginning to throb.

Taehyung's thrusts were getting faster, but not any less sloppy, he still managed to hit places within you that made you wish this feeling would last forever.

And Yoongi was simply enjoying not having to do anything today except for pull on your hair every once in a while when he wanted you to take him deeper.

That was the kind of sex he really loved.

And when Taehyung's moans began to become louder and he pushed so hard inside of you that your eyes widened, your moans nearly turned into screams if it wasn't for Yoongi's dick inside your mouth and tears began to pool in your eyes, you knew that your body would give up at any second.

Thankfully with you hollowing your cheeks like that, Yoongi came nearly at the same time as Taehyung did, slowly and in the most relaxing manner ever did he push inside your mouth a few more times before he pulled out and grabbed your chin to make you look at him, wiping at the corners of your mouth with his thumb and smiling when you gulped it all down, “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his entire demeanor changing from dominating daddy to sweet and caring angel.

But what surprised you was that it wasn't just him who changed.

“Don't move, I'll be right back!” Taehyung pulled out as quickly as he entered and returned only a few moments later with a wet, lukewarm towel that he used to gently clean you with, before Yoongi helped you sit up.

“Go to the bathroom, I'll prepare the bed for you.”

You were so tired that you didn't even fully realize just how caring they both were all of a sudden, if you had, you would have appreciated the moment a lot more then and there. 

But you would do tomorrow for sure, when your mind was clearer and you were able to think straight.

And while you went to the toilet and quickly showered, Taehyung and Yoongi prepared the bed for you, both men incredibly well-spent and happy.

“Thanks for letting me be a part of this hyung..”

“Thank you for taking such good care of my girl. I knew I could count on you,” he grinned, his hand on Taehyung's shoulder, “Who knows.. maybe this can be a thing every now and then.”

“You know I wouldn't complain,” Taehyung sighed dreamily, “Her pussy tastes so good, hyung. I’m so jealous you get to taste her whenever you want to.”

“What can I say,” Yoongi pulled the blanket back with a proud smile, “I hit the jackpot with her.”

[lumi-klovstad-games]

Ramses-17′s opinions on Destiny 2′s cast in the unfortunate event of his Death or Amnesia

The Prompt: Your Guardian, or a character of your choice, making video logs in case they die or start losing their memories

Ramses-17:

*shuffles nervously in front of the camera*

Hey you... so, I guess I’m either dead-dead or I’ve lost my memory completely. If I’m dead, I hope I pulled a Cayde-6 and went out like an absolute badass, defiant to the end. I mean, not that I’m eager to punch out or anything, but I at least hope my death measures up to what I hope my life amounted to. Preferably, even more so, but that’s a tall order. It’s been quite a life so far.

Some notes: I hope Saint-14 is still hanging around. If he is, go say hi. Make friends with him. He’s a damn good example of the very best of us. The image of a Guardian. He’s the icon I strive to live up to -- he taught me what it means to be a Titan and a Guardian. Just don’t don’t engage in a snowball fight with him. I don’t care how tempting it seems.

Be nice to Zavala. Yes, he’s made some dick calls, I mean, really dick calls... but his one love and loyalty is the City. Everything he’s done, smart or not, kind or not, was in its defense. He just... doesn’t understand that not all Guardians are like him, I think. You can get the story of what went down between us from Ikora, Shaxx, or Reena Feng but... dammit I’m just no good at telling stories. Point is, don’t judge him too harshly. There’s a good man underneath that gruff and social ineptness. Kind of like me, I guess.

Speaking of Reena Feng... it’s taken me a while to come to terms with the girl, and the choices she made, but ultimately... she made a better call than I did at the time. Showing mercy to Kaya-Sei was absolutely the right call, and I’m glad she was there to stop me. If she hadn’t been there, I think I would have regretted my decisions forever. If it’s Ramses-18 watching? Go thank that plucky Warlock. Say 17 told you to do it. She’ll laugh it off, tell a joke to try to deflect how much it makes her feel, but she’ll really appreciate it. With luck, you’ll be best friends with her, just like I used to be.

On the note of Kaya-Sei: she’s not that different from Zavala. She’s stuck in her way of seeing the world, but she’s not a bad person. If you cross paths with her, don’t treat her like the traitor everyone says she is. You can absolutely trust her, and this is coming from me, so that’s gotta mean something. Normally I wouldn’t say “trust the personal hitwoman of Mara Sov”, but if Kaya’s involved, take her side. She’s damn well earned that apology from me. Also her judgment is much better than it looks from the outside, which is a good thing because sometimes she really looks like a moron. Don’t tell her I said that. I mean, the part where I called her a moron. Go ahead and flatter her with the bit where I said she has good judgment. Mostly because it’s true.

Quick bits: Ikora Rey? Excellent sagely counselor. If you have concerns, she has some of the best advice out there. If you’re concerned about where to turn or what to do, ask her. You won’t regret it.

Drifter? Keep well away from that smarmy bastard. Something about him doesn’t add up, and the loot just isn’t worth the risk.

Ada-9: Worth kissing up to. Her gear is second to none. Just... learn to put up with the attitude; it’s not going away.

Devrim Kay: I may not have taste buds, but his tea is so good I’ve forgotten that fact any number of times. You can rely on him too. He may not have a Ghost, but he’s every inch a guardian in my book.

Asher Mir: ...kind of an asshole with a heart of jerk. Deal with him only when you must.

Sloane: Lady gets stuff done. Can be gruff, but don’t let it get to you. She’s worth getting to know.

Failsafe: I used to stop by every weekend and play board games with her. You should too. I know she likes the intellectual stimulation and the company.

Ana Bray: Ana Bray.... what do I say about her? That she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen? That I’m grateful to have ever known her? That she’s kick ass? That she helped me discover some bits about myself before I was all... metal? Ana’s brave and beautiful and unconventional and a trouble magnet, but she’s up there with the best of us. She should be a legend, in my opinion. But maybe I’m biased. If you’re watching this, Ramses-18: go get her, Tiger. 

Eris Morn: Queen of spookiness. Has a knack for knowing where we should really make our stand. You should absolutely dance in front of her. The worst that can happen is raisins. *barely contained laughter* 

Emperor Calus: Bad news, and definitely that “friend” nobody should like. Steer clear.

Xur: Oh dear god, ditto. Even if his loot is awesome, he’s shifty as hell and keep an eye on him. You don’t need his gear anyway. A real Guardian makes do and has plenty of tools in every situation anyway. Whatever he’s selling, you don’t need it. Even if it is really, really cool.

Tess Everis: Shrewd woman. Offers some neat stuff, but keep your hand on your cash when you deal with her, because she’ll probably rob you blind and call it “commerce”. Cayde never did finish that investigation of whether or not she ran Eververse sweat shops in the City. You should look into that for me.

Fenchurch Everis: I really don’t think he exists. Tess 100% made him up. I mean, has anyone ever actually seen him? Like, in person? Exactly. He’s pure fiction and you need to tell Tess to knock those stupid stories off.

Petra Venj: God I hate her. But... *sighs* she occasionally makes a good point and she’s handy in a fight. Also, if you kill her, I’m pretty sure Kaya-Sei will go all hitwoman on you and you will not make it through the rest of the week so play nice, I guess.

Mara Sov: Everything I just said about Petra Venj goes triple for Mara Sov.

Mithrax: Pretty damn chill for a Fallen.

Spider: Same, and oddly trustworthy. Do not trust him anyway, just for pragmatism’s sake.

Osiris: Means well but will 100% screw you over purely by accident. Keep your distance, but be ready for Ikora to draft you into cleaning up his latest mess on a monthly basis.

Banshee-44: Ever seen an Exo with Alzheimer’s? Banshee’s as close as you get. I heard a rumor that 44 is just the amount of reboots he lost count at. Either way, he’s got a memory like a sieve, but it’s hard to find a better gunsmith. Be patient with him. He’s been through more than I could possibly know.

Shaxx: He’s loud, he’s proud, he will get you killed many, many, many times, but he’ll help you stand back up every time. He’s quality guardian.

Lord Saladin: He’s grim, but like Eris, he comes by it honestly. Make sure he adds my name to his list.

Amanda Holliday: God I love her. She’ll have more than few tales to tell you about me. Not just me, lots of interesting stuff from our recent history. I think she’s seen almost as much as I have, and in a much shorter span. I have no clue how she keeps it together, but she does, and I’m grateful.

Suraya Hawthorne: I mean, she’s a nice gal and a great ally, but I think her desk job is getting to her -- sometimes it seems like she doesn’t realize how much stuff actually happened since she took her posting in the Tower. Poor girl needs some time in the field again if you ask me.

Who else is left? I guess I should mention Caesar, my ghost. Hopefully he’s watching over a Ramses-18, who is hopefully watching this. We’ve been through some times together, and hopefully, he’s there to get you through some more. I couldn’t ask for a more stalwart partner.

I guess all that’s left is me. I’ve always been a survivor. From Twilight Gap all the way to the Crimson Spire Offensive, I’ve made it through battle after battle. If I’ve lost my memory, maybe in some way it’s a blessing. I can’t begin to tell you the things that witnessing what I have does to a mind. Sometimes it’s better to simply know what you’ve faced and overcome and not know the details. I wouldn’t choose to forget any of it, but... if I have, I’d be hard pressed to say I regret the loss. But if you’re watching this, I don’t care if you’re Ramses-18 or someone else: by watching this, you’re picking up a piece of my legacy.

Go on and make something great with it. Most (keyword: MOST) of the folks I’ve mentioned will help. But you’ve sat and listened to an old Exo reminisce long enough. The future’s yours, Guardian. Go build it.

[stusbunker]

Known: Friends in a Fix

A Supernatural Dark Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Demon!Reader, Dean x Female Vessel OC

Series Masterlist

A/N: With the dates I let you know where the action falls in regards to air dates, I try not to repeat information you already know. Please ask if something doesn’t make sense! xoxo Stu

Not really any warnings this chapter, there will still be show level violence, possession, mental health concerns, and a reminder that it is a Slow Burn. Each Chapter will have its own warnings, because I am generous like that. xoxo Stu

The dark figured loomed in the doorway, an insipid strobe light shone from another room, effectively blinding her as she tried to make out a face or species to her capture. Chloe was pinned down to a wide table, unable to move any of her extremities and the maddening realization that she was going to die like some bitch in a horror movie caused her to taunt the bastard.

“Oh goodie, you’re here—” her voice came out flat, as if she had an accent or something shoved in her mouth. When she looked down at her surroundings, everything shifted. Her hands paled and thinned as she tried to figure out what was happening. Then his voice sent a shiver down her spine, it was familiar yet ominous. Her head snapped up to face him when suddenly she woke up.

The raggedy blanket she kept along the passenger’s seat back wedged beneath her head as a makeshift pillow.

Earth Date: October 8, 2013

Location: A Rest Stop Somewhere between Madison and Milwaukee

She never had nightmares, for a hunter it was a rare quality, one that she had prided herself on. That was until she started to, when exhaustion nor booze could quell the festering dreams that haunted her even in daylight. CC started to question her fortitude, trying to relive the past few weeks and see what would have triggered such elaborate horrors. It was like she had ingested someone’ else’s trauma, the unfinished memories at odds with her own strengths and fears. She quickly grew dismayed over the new, if unfounded, weakness.

CC sat up, rubbing her face with flat swipes of her palms, chasing away the barely two hours of sleep she had managed before the last episode. She stared at the clock on the dash before grumbling to herself and starting the engine. She had turned off her phone the night before after a landline had refused to stop calling and to leave a message with more information than a selfish urgency. There were only a handful of people Chloe Collins would answer after that kind of dramatics, and two of them were dead. She thought about calling Garth, but let the idea float out of her focus as quickly as the wind picked up over the moraines.

It was another day before she remembered to turn her phone back on, having driven mindlessly until she stopped in front of an overgrown gas station and convenience store that looked like it had survived a tornado or some other natural disaster that would have shattered its windows. There was a residue to the place, as if a spirit had led her there to clean up its mess. If there was a spook behind the numbing atmosphere, it remained perpetually silent and out of sight.

“Hey, look, I know things are probably bad out there, but if there is any chance you are near Colorado, call me. Sam’s laid up and, I, I can’t do this myself, not right now. Consider this calling in all my favors. Thanks, Chloe.” Dean Winchester’s voice dropped on her name, it was a plea, not a sign off. He never used her real name. And he rarely asked for help. She turned West before scrolling for his number in her contacts list.

Nothing seemed real anymore.

Location: Nebraska

Despite the bright sunshine and crisp air, Castiel was growing bitter towards his surroundings. He heard Hael’s warnings in his memory as he walked down the quiet two-lane road. Hoping he could do what he had to, in order to stay as far away from every other angel as possible. He had changed clothes, spending his last coins on vending machine nutrients and a bottle of water. The truck driver had been polite enough, dropping him off at the next stop without any agreed upon repayment. And so, he started walking, again, painfully hungry and alone.

The passing vehicles rumbled passed Cas in a blur, his arm held out awkward and listless as he glanced half-heartedly at the few potential rides. Suddenly a rusted pick up screeched along, failing to come to a complete stop as it blew through the shoulder and into the grassy ditch. Castiel instinctively chased after the seemingly out of control vehicle, worry cresting his brow. When he reached the passenger side window, his stomach pitched against its emptiness.

Demon.

The woman appeared frozen, knuckles white against the worn steering wheel. She was shaking either from the impact of the accident or from fighting the entity that was trying to control her. Once he spoke, she spun to face him, her heart shaped face familiar over the parasite’s sinister features.

“I know you—”

“Castiel?” The woman’s voice croaked out of her clenched jaw. The flash of her grey eyes and the charm hanging from her rearview mirror brought pieces of old conversations and images back into focus. Dean mentioning a friend who had made repelling talismans by combining Native American chants with hoodoo ingredients. Her grandfather was a master of petroglyphs, spellwork and runes while her mother had visions from an early age.

“Chloe? Chloe Collins? Did Dean send you?” Castiel’s voice was urgent, but the worry clouded his now human features.

“I tried to stop, but my foot, it’s like it wouldn’t--- am I okay?” She begged for reassurance, not being able to move more than an inch in either direction. Castiel pained for this woman, unaware and at the mercy of her attacker.

“You’re going to be fine,” Castiel walked around the truck, never taking his eyes off of the hunter. When he reached the driver’s side door, the demon took hold. Her head tilted at an unnatural angle, eyes blackened as a horse-like huff flared her nostrils.

“Hello, thief. Long time.” The demon struggled back against her host, Chloe’s voice wavered as she pushed open the door, sending Cas flat on his ass. She leaped from the cab, nearly pouncing on him.

“What’s a-matter?” The demon continued to taunt him, “It seems if the jailbreaker has lost its wings?”

Castiel drew the Angel Blade from inside his stolen hoodie, the fear and humanity rolling towards the demon’s nostrils in intoxicating waves. The weapon got the demon’s attention, she snarled at him as worried voices came out of nowhere. Cas looked back to the road, a family had pulled over to check on the stalled vehicle. The mother’s voice beckoning to the father as he approached the struggling pair.

“Everybody okay over here?” The man’s large hands were gripped in front of his chest as if he was warming them before beginning a task.

Chloe’s eyes returned to normal as she leaned down to pull Castiel back onto his feet. He didn’t say anything but gave the demon/hunter a sidelong glance.

“Yeah, should be, I got caught rubbernecking this one, but he was kind of enough to see that me and my truck are square.” Chloe’s voice had returned, her thick hair drifting in the breeze as she shoved her hands in the front pockets of her jeans.

“You okay, man? You look like you saw a ghost!” The concerned motorist chortled as Castiel thought about what the man meant.

“No, there are no restless spirits here.” Castiel’s confusion broke the man’s revelry.

“Alright, could you do me a favor and wave to the Missus? She wouldn’t believe me unless everyone’s smiling.” As if on cue, Chloe and the bystander turned and waved back at his minivan, his wife beaming with relief as Castiel tried to patch on a smile. As soon as the family was back on the road with another round of enthusiastic waving from Chloe, Castiel redrew his blade.

She froze with the deadly point pressing gently above her kidney, “You kill me, you kill the girl, Castiel. You might be a half-dead has-been, but you wouldn’t do that to the Winchesters. Not when Dean sent her to collect you.”

“What are you doing with her?” Castiel was unmoved by her rationality.

“Nothing you need to worry about, besides,” the demon spun, hard, landing a firm elbow to his temple. “We are too exposed out here, for both our sakes.”

***

Castiel woke in her passenger seat a few hours later, the sun igniting the horizon behind them in a burst of pink and lavender. Chloe smiled at him as she briefly took her eyes off the road. He sat up, hand twitching over his missing weapon.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hunt you Castiel.” Her voice was soft and genuine, he realized he was talking to the woman and not the demon now. “But, if you don’t believe me, the Angel Blade is under your seat. I didn’t want to accidentally stab you while I dragged your unconscious ass into the cab.”

Cas didn’t bother verifying her explanation, he had grown too distracted by the giant-sized soft drink in the cupholder. “May I?” He asked with an audible swallow over his parched throat.

“Be my guest,” CC hummed a melody after her offer, one in stark contrast to the radio commercial jingle playing. Castiel removed the thin plastic lid and poured the bubbly, icy liquid down his throat. He paused when the frigid temperature burned his chest, just as an obnoxious belch escaped his lips.

“Excuse you,” CC chuckled, handing him a fistful of napkins from the glove compartment, he hadn’t realized he had spilled down his front.

“Why are you helping me?” Cas’s question caught her off guard.

“Obviously, so I can hold you hostage and take advantage of you,” CC didn’t miss a beat, winking at the perplexed grimace on the Angel-man’s face. “I’m a friend of the Winchesters? Dean was freaking out because Sam was laid up, so he asked if I was near Colorado?”

She continued to end each sentence as if it were a question, hoping the connections would be made in his brain. “When did you last talk to Dean?”

“I haven’t, just started driving West. Got pretty lucky to have spotted you, too. You look half-dead. Everything alright?” She was leading him, but he didn’t feel threatened with her concern.

Castiel sighed, “I’m not up to my full power, thank you for your help, Ms. Collins.”

“CC, Cas. It’s, just, CC.”

***

Castiel felt their presence before he heard his name over the radio waves, the Angels were closing in on him. Traveling with a demon, even a somewhat accommodating one, had been too risky after all. They had stopped for gas and a quick meal, but he knew better than to lead his fallen brethren back to CC and whoever was possessing her. Before CC returned from the women’s room, Cas ducked out of the small convenience store and made his way across the highway to a fast food restaurant.

He slowly made his way up the frontage road and stuck his thumb out for a ride in the opposite direction. Twenty minutes later, he was whisked away, hopefully drawing the Angels away from the confusing demon’s scent.

That night he called Dean from a borrowed cellphone at a group home.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas, what the hell?!” Dean barked over the line.

“I wanted to contact you because, well, I left CC at a truck stop in Nebraska.”

“Glad to know she got my message, why’d you split? Everything alright?”

“No, the Angels were trailing me, and I didn’t want to endanger her. Dean? How long has she—"

“Yeah, sorry about that, she can be a bit of a pistol sometimes,” Cas could hear the eye roll in Dean’s voice.

“That’s not what I mean, Dean. You do know that—”

“Oh, okay, right. Sorry, man, Sam was talking. Listen, you just get here asap. I’ll call Chloe before she burns half the corn fields looking for your ass.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“You sure you don’t want us to pick you up?”

“No, Dean, I think I can manage another state or two.” It was Cas’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Well, okay. But, uh, be careful out there, man.” Castiel hung up as his cover name was called out from the reception desk, announcing his bed assignment.

***

Earth Date: October 13, 2013

Location: Las Vegas, Nevada

Chloe kicked herself for showing up to the care facility on a Sunday afternoon. The residents were exhausted from an outing the day before and the staff was not the most enthusiastic to last minute visitors. An extremely tall blonde female resident frowned at CC as she approached the corner where her mother sat gossiping. With the practiced patience and subtly of her trade, she slid into a seat beside her mother and listened to the perceived drama around her.

One of the night nurses was a kleptomaniac, Doris, her mother’s companion was certain. It was all very mundane with a nostalgic level of neighborhood paranoia, drawing an easy curl to her closed lips. CC sat for ten minutes before the women looked up and realized they had company, her hands folded over her elbows as if holding herself together.

“Hey, Mama,” she leaned forward and patted her mother’s knee. Her mother watched her skeptically, following her hand as it retracted back to her lap as if Chloe’s had personally offended her.

“What’s the matter with you?” Her mother’s tone was blunt, but to be expected. “Your energy is all foggy.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” CC grumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear, her piercings sparkling in the pre-sunset glow that shown through the long windows behind them.

“Please tell me you didn’t bring something with you? I don’t have the means to expel spirits in here.” Her mother huffed, searching the area around their small square of chairs as if a ghost would jump out at the suggestion and attack them all. CC sighed, somethings never changed, mood disorder medicated or not. Her mother had dark eyes and kept her hair in a thick, meticulous plait down her back. Other than that, the women were nearly identical, barely a laugh line or forehead crease deeper on her mother’s smooth features versus her own.

“I’m clean, Ma’am, I know what I’m doing,” CC whispered adamantly now. “Can we talk in private?”

Her mother eyed Doris knowingly, “Like you’re going to rat us out, I swear.”

“Fine.” Chloe leaned back, sighing as the older women shared a look.

“Constance, I’ll be back, I’m going to tell our eavesdropper to mind her own damn business.” Doris and Constance snapped their heads back to land disapproving eyes on the woman that had given CC a very similar look when she first arrived. Soon, Doris was out of earshot.

“Do you hear them?” CC asked, looking at her mother’s shoes.

“Of course, I hear them, girl. They won’t shut the hell up. It’s like they think they’re the only ones to experience a change of address.” Constance Collins groaned, rubbing her temples against the broadcast of celestial communication.

“Yeah, well, moving pains are the least of our worries. It’s like a temper tantrum met turf warfare.” CC explained what she had figured out about the dispelled angels’ situation.

“What are you going to do about it?” Constance watched her daughter, noting the shadows that drooped into her usually full cheeks.

“See how it pans out for now, I guess. Not really something a single hunter can do about all of Heaven.” CC shrugged.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.” Her mother recited verbatim.

“Thanks, Margaret, didn’t realize I had stepped in to a Soc class.” CC rolled her eyes.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, Chloe Cathleen. If you want to fix this mess; you can. Simple as that.”

“Thanks?”

“Anytime,” her mother smirked at her, until CC’s face pulled up and grinned back. “You in town?”

“Not really,” CC admitted, checking her phone for the time.

“Well, the night meds get distributed soon, better scoot before they added you to the queue, doll-baby.”

CC stood, rubbing her sweaty palms on the front of her fitted jeans. “Take care of yourself, Mama.”

Constance stood leaning up to place her cheek against her daughter’s, and with a short hum came a dark send off. “Don’t be too reckless out there. Come back to me.”

CC closed her eyes, “Of course, Mama.”

They broke apart and left with stuttering smiles on both of their lips.

Earth Date: October 17, 2013

Location: The Bunker

Dean woke to the frustrating buzzing of his phone against his nightstand, without a glance at the caller id he groaned a greeting.

“Go for Winchester.”

“Dean?” She sounded so small.

“Chloe, Christ, where have you been?! I’ve been calling for weeks.” Dean sat up, batting at the covers in order to free his bare legs, tossing them over the side.

“North Carolina, uh, just outside of Whittier.” She wasn’t sounding any better the longer she talked. “Uh, I don’t know how I got here, Dean. I remember looking into a case and then nothing.”

“Are you somewhere safe?” Dean rubbed his eyes, panic flooding his thoughts.

“I’m in a diner, but I don’t know where my truck is or—”

“Okay, well get a room, call me and I’ll give them my card. Got it?”

“Yeah, okay, right, first motel in the phonebook, right?”

“That’s my girl. Okay, sit tight. I’ll be there soon.” Dean waited for her sign off, throwing on pants with one hand to his ear.

“Okay, thanks, Dean.” Dean swallowed, exhaling tightly before ending the call. Everything from hex bags to Angel possession crossed his mind as he drove East in a fury. He could have called another hunter, he should have told Sam where he was going, but he didn’t. He just drove.

 My girl. Dean’s words flooded your thoughts as you sat hunched over your malt at the diner counter. Now the waiting began.

tags: @dontshootmespence @because-imma-lady-assface @mrswhozeewhatsis @smi727 @sassykayla255 @dxr-supernatural-fanfic @supernaturalboi @dumbthotticus @eve05glee @veroinnumera @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @forgettingthoughts @shokushuhime-stuff @fanfictionrecommendations-com @soullesscollection-world @igotdressedthroughthemess 

Next Chapter: A Line Once Crossed

[borisbubbles]

01. LITHUANIA

Ieva Zasimauskaite - “When we’re old” 12th place

After six, long arduous months, this ranking somehow outlived the entire Almaia relationship, and that alone should be reason enough to finish the ranking immediately, but the the upcoming ban of all nfsw stuff (/porn) from this website will also cause a homosexual exodus (homosexodus? 🤔), sooooo, definitely time to finish this ranking before I lose 85% of my current audience. 

Look, listen OKAY, just like how I naturally gravitate towards Lea Sirk’s sass and Elina’s pristineness and DoReDoS’s hilarious whateverthatwas, I was simply never *not* going to like a Lithuanian frumpy space princess and annointed HINDU with a voice more brittle than Theresa May’s position in the House of Commons, whose meditation rites include drinking a cup of boiling water (without the tea! just water) on a daily basis to *purify* her mind and soul. Okay the last MAY be an exaggeration on the behalf of the Flemish commentator (Peter Van de Veire is a known jokester), but then again, I can totally see Ieva telling this to random bystanders in her hotel lobby? Such oblivious, but well-meaning wackiness is just so Ieva SassyMouseKyte. 

Naturally, one MASSIVE part of my Ieva stanning is JUST her personality, which is both intensely kooky and disarmingly innocent, see above. Another example: Ieva serenly sliding off the stage during the semifinal, only to find the nearest camera and exclaim  ”I FELT THE PRESENCE OF *GODS* ON THE STAGE WHILE I WAS SINGING ^__^ I FEEL *ENLIGHTENED* 🤗🤗” llke she was Siddharta Gautama under the Bodhi tree <3 I am no a religious man but if Ieva said the stage was brightened with a non-descript Eastern Deity’s presence during the performance, who am I to refute it? 😁 

Gods or no gods, I will say that it took a *serious* amount of dharma to give us *the most unexpected gift* we’ve ever could’ve been granted, which is a COMPETENT EUROVISION ENTRY FOR LITHUANIA. In terms of Eurovision, Lithuania are amongst of the objective *worst* on a  terrifyingly consistent basis and here you have a fairly pleasant Ellie Goulding-inspired, frumpolicious Hindu cleric bringing a ballad about the inevitability of high medieval alliance pacts. Let’s Sing The Song That She Wrote:

Actually that’s selling the act a bit short, because for a brief moment, Ieva managed to transform her moment during the sheer INSANITY that was this year’s finale (well the sheer insanity streaked with horrifying, terrible, machinal dullness, not naming any names but *cough*austriaandaustralia*cough), into an oasis of *pure show-stopping sentiment* and that’s a powerful feat to accomplish for a Eurovision entry. Normally, you think such an entry would Blackbird itself into oblivion but as Ieva had prophetically declared, GOD WAS ON HER SIDE, AMEN, so nope, think again Christerifer Morningstar 😈

Speaking of, praise Hallellujah, Oh Glory and Mazzel-Motherfucking-Tov that Ieva qualified under the hilarity that is the current combined voting system (to those who still hate it, AISEL would’ve qualified under the old system despite being 12th in both jury and televote 🙃 Granted this would be funny if this had happened to Sennek or Ari or Eye Cue or basically anyone other than Aisel, but it didn’t so The Old System remains CANCELLED, s/n/s) because not only is Ieva an Elyon Goddess Moste High, and has the unique quality of being a Good Entry from Lithuania, “When We’re Old” is also... fucking awesome in itself?

 “When we’re old” is *not* your typical BorisBubbles fave on the surface (lol as if I can expect you to know what a typical Boris fave is after only two full rankings  on tumblr 😬), but it totally is? Ieva hits that personal sweet spot for me that I require from my faves: Quirky, but not overbearingly weird. Well-liked, but not liked *enough* to top every post-show list. Sentimental, but because her emotions are *real*, not because of some forced commercialized acting gig. (such as, um, fucking Rona Nishliu and her fake-as-fuck dry sobbing ugh die bitch! (k not literally, just musically, 5ever)). Also, this song makes me want to sing along like the soft ass fag that I am. “When Weeeeeeeeee’re OWLED Hooooooooooooooo!!!” All of this cements Ieva as a dark horse, an underdog and an eternal outsider and these are  the *specific*  type of entries that I started this blog for.   

I guess I should write a bit more, with more *sass and pizzazz*, but that’s basically my Ieva love in a nutshell! I think she’s an utter gem, both as a human and a Eurovision participant, “When We’re Old” *still* remains the only entry this year to give me *emotional attachment* in the form of shivers and near-tears and bad impromptu karaoke.  If you don’t think she’s all that, well that’s your loss, not sorry! She made the final through the good graces of Hare Krishna and did better than Jessi*can’t* and *No*lexander ! If I get a relationship, I want it be precisely like Ieva and her Hubbo’s. GET A LIFE!!

ALL HAIL THE QUEEN OF EUROVISION 2018

Thank you for reading this ranking, it’s been a blast! See you on the 1st of April 2019 for the #TelAviv2019 preshow ranking. God bless you and shalom! 

EUROVISION 2018 - POST SHOW

01. Lithuania (Ieva Zasimauskaite - “When we’re old”) 02. Moldova (DoReDoS - “My Lucky Day”)

03. Estonia (Elina Nechayeva - “La Forza”)

04. Slovenia (Lea Sirk - “Hvala, ne!”)

05. Switzerland (ZiBBZ - “Stones”)

06. Germany (Michael Schulte - “You let me walk alone”)

07. Albania (Eugent Bushpepa - “Mall”)

08. France (Madame Monsieur - “Mercy”)

09. Hungary (AWS - “Viszlát nyár”)

10. Finland (Saara Aalto - “Monsters”)

11. Bulgaria (EQUINOX - “Bones”)

12. Denmark (Rasmussen - “Higher ground”)

13. Malta (Christabelle - “Taboo”)

14. Cyprus (Eleni Foureira - “Fuego”)

15. United Kingdom (SuRie - “Storm”)

16. Serbia (Balkanika - “Nova Deca”)

17. Portugal (Cláudia Pascoal - “O jardim”)

18. The Netherlands (Waylon - “Outlaw in ‘em”)

19. Ukraine (MÉLOVIN - “Under the ladder”)

20. Macedonia (Eye Cue - “Lost and Found”)

21. San Marino (Jessika ft. Jenifer Brening - “Who We Are”)

22. Sweden (Benjamin Ingrosso - “Dance You Off”)

23. Austria (Cesár Sampson - “Nobody but you”)

24. Latvia (Laura Rizzotto - “Funny girl”)

25. Azerbaijan (AISEL - “X my heart”)

26. Israel (Netta - “Toy”)

27. Norway (Alexander Rybak  - “That’s how you write a song”)

28. Montenegro (Vanja Radovanovic - “Inje”)

29. Armenia (Sevak Khanagyan - “Qami”)

30. Poland (Gromee ft. Lukas Meijer - “Light me up”)

31. Greece (Yianna Terzi - “Oniro mou”)

32. Georgia (Iriao - “For you”)

33. Belgium (Sennek - “A matter of time”)

34. Italy (Ermal Meta & Fabrizio Moro - “Non mi avete fatto niente”)

35. Romania (The Humans - “Goodbye”)

36. Ireland (Ryan O'Shaughnessy - “Together”)

37. Croatia (Franka - “Crazy”)

38. Belarus (ALEKSEEV - “Forever”)

39. Russia (Julia Samoylova - “I Won’t Break”)

40. Spain (Amaia & Alfred - “Tu canción”)

41. Iceland (Ari Ólafsson - “Our choice”)

42. Australia (Jessica Mauboy - “We got love”)

43. Czech Republic (Mikolas Jozef - “Lie to me”)

HALL OF BORIS BUBBLES EUROVISION FAVES (1972-2018) 1972: the Netherlands (Sandra & Andres - “Als het om de liefde gaat”) 1973: United Kingdom (Cliff Richard - “Power to all our friends”) 1974: Sweden (ABBA - “Waterloo”) (ed: totally by default btw. Shit year.) 1975: Germany (Joy Fleming - “Ein Lied kann Eine Brücke Sein” )  1976: Luxembourg (Jürgen Marcus - “Chansons pour ceux qui s’aiment”) (😂) 1977: Belgium (Dream Express - “A million in 1-2-3″) (ed.: top five ESC year) 1978: Israel (Izhar Cohen & Alfabeta - “A Ba Ni Bi”) 1979: Germany (Dschinghis Khan - “Dschinghis Khan”) 1980: Luxembourg (Sofie & Magaly - “Papa Pingouïn”) 1981: Belgium - (Emly Starr - “Samson”) 1982: Germany - (Nicole - “Ein Bißchen Frieden”) 1983: Israel (Ofra Haza - “Hi”) 1984: Ireland (Linda Martin - “Terminal 3″) 1985: Turkey (MFÖ - “Didai, Didai, Dai”) 1986: Belgium (Sandra Kim - ”J’aime la vie”) (même si c’est une folie!) 1987: Belgium (Liliane St. Pierre - “Soldiers of Love”) (ed.: top Five esc entry) 1988: Switzerland (Céline Dion - “Ne Partez Pas Sans Moi”) 1989: Denmark ( Birthe Kjær -  "Vi maler byen rød") 1990: Yugoslavia/Croatia (Tajci - “Hajde, da ludujemo) 1991: Sweden (Carola -  “ Fångad av en stormvind”) (ed.: top five ESC entry) 1992: Denmark (Lotte Nilsson & Kenny Lübcke - “Allting som ingen ser”) 1993: the Netherlands (Ruth Jacott - “Vrede”) 1994: Germany (MeKaDo  - “Wir geben ‘ne Party”) 1995: Cyprus (Alexandros Panayi - “Sti fotia”) 1996:  Croatia (Maja Blagdan - “Sveta ljubav”) 1997: Poland (Anne-Marie Jopek - “Ale jestem”) (ed.: Top five ESC year) 1998: the Netherlands (Edsilia Rombley - “Hemel en aarde”) (I think???? lol 😬) 1999: Croatia (Doris Dragovic - “MARIJA MAGDALENAAAAAAA”) 2000: Latvia (Brainstorm - “My Star”) (ed.: top five ESC entry) 2001: France (Natasha St. Pier - “Je n’ai que mon âme”) (but also, nobody) 2002: Spain (Rosa - “Yooropz leebin a selebrayshun”) (ed.: this trashfest <3) 2003: Germany (Lou - “Let’s get happy”) (and let’s be GAY!) 2004: Albania (Anjeza Shahini - “Image of you”) 2005: Romania (Luminita Anghel and Sistem - “Let me try”) (Ed.: top five year) 2006: Iceland (Silvia Night - “Congratulations”) (ed.: 2006 SF > 2006 GF 😬)   2007: Georgia (Sopho - “Visionary Dream”) (ed.: i have about 9 absofaves from this year though lol) 2008: Iceland (Euroband - “This is my life) 2009: Iceland (Yohanna - “Is it true?”) (ed.: top five ESC entry) 2010: Albania (Juliana Pasha - “It’s all about you”) 2011: Germany (Lena - “Taken by a stranger) (ed.: top 5 entry, bottom 5 year >_<) 2012: Sweden (Loreen - “Euphoria”) (ed.: as with ABBA Loreen wins my ranking by default because this year is mostly rubbish.) 2013: Greece (Koza Mostra - “Alcohol is free”) (ed.: personal fave ESC year :)) 2014: Slovenia (Tinkara Kovac ft. Lea Sirk - “Round and round) (ed.: top five ESC year) 2015: Latvia (Aminata - “Love Injected”)  2016: Armenia (Iveta Mukuchyan - “LoveWave) 2017: Belgium (Blanche - “City Lights”) 2018: Lithuania (Ieva Zasimauskaite - “When we’re old”) (ooooohhhhhhhh)

[velcro-rave]

post-emoji movie Trauma

WARNING: the following text contains spoilers and can be considered disturbing to some readers. especially my brain, because it’s leaking out my ears after typing this.

This is the first movie ever I’ve gone to see on opening night. And let me just say that, for the record, I’m glad I went to watch with friends. Without them, I would have most likely calmly exited the room, climbed up to the roof, and dived straight off.

I’m honestly fucking terrified of how much this shitty movie has pushed me to the edge. I’ve never felt more ANGRY in my life and at the same time wanted to just curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep. This is so fucked up. What made it possible for this level of psychological warfare to be used so casually by Sony? Why did they decide this was ever a good idea to present to the public? I’m still shaking (and not from the overpriced Coca-Cola I was sold). Whether it’s out of rage or fear, I don’t know. Not even throwing myself into the deep fires of hell can attempt to restore the intrinsic warmth I felt before I witnessed this crime of a movie. They say that there’s a special place reserved below for people who cause enough pain to humanity, and it is at this point where I pose this question to the following:

Tony Leondis. Eric Siegel. Mike White. Michelle Raimo Kouyate.

Why?

Did you want this to happen to me? Was this the plan all along? To destroy everything you could possibly love in the process of creating this film, to make the audience suffer without any remorse? You got PATRICK FUCKING STEWART as a voice actor, and what is it you do?

Yeah, you make him play A WALKING PILE OF SHIT!!!!

Someone could’ve ran up to me after I left the theater, put a shotgun directly up to my forehead, pulled the trigger, and that would have still not come close to how much my mind had been blown at the shocking reality that this movie, this spawn, could exist in the known universe and continue to be shown to innocent people. There were kids there. Hopeful, happy, young kids with iPhones who thought it was a great idea to head off to the movies and watch a funny relatable movie about emojis without a care in the world. Communicating ideas without the use of words is the “staple” of their generation, as the movie so proudly portrays (even comparing it to ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics!), and there’s no reason a family shouldn’t agree to bring their children to this beautiful, heartwarming adventure, right? WRONG.

Nothing could have prepared me for the horrific amount of groan-worthy jokes this movie tossed out. I’ve been wracking my brain for an entire hour trying to remember the most potent ones, but they were so easily forgettable that I can only recall a few offhand. They were tragic. Whenever an opportunity for a shitty pun showed itself, you can bet your ass the writers took it and ran with it to lengths beyond the realms of humor. From the character known as Hi-5′s nonchalant Bye Felicia! to his two puns about snapping (as if one wasn’t enough), I wanted to get up and scream at the ceiling in the hopes that my cries of agony would disrupt the structural integrity of the building and have it fall on top of me, finally freeing me from the slow-cooker of torture that is The Emoji Movie.

At a certain point, Hi-5 (by the way James Corden, I thought you were cool. I thought you were here for us, for all of us as an entertainer, but you just had to take part in ruining me and the world as we know it by accepting this role. I will never forgive you.) mentions something about his heart beating. His… heart? This walking, talking hand has a heart? Does he have lungs? What other internal organs could fit in there and be capable of being slapped around constantly as a result of his stupid ass decisions? Why doesn’t he have arms like Gene or Jailbreak, does his body somehow take into account that he’s already a living appendage? This movie is making me sit and contemplate the anatomy of a fucking animated HAND, and that’s not even as preposterous as a thought can get while watching.

On multiple occasions throughout my viewing experience, I had to take a break to just lean back and sigh, both in anguish of what was happening onscreen as well as the sheer exhausting aspect of it all. The voice acting couldn’t have been more unreliable. Every other line it was a gamble between it being a poorly executed pun delivered so flatly that not even the 4-year old up front let out a little giggle, an obvious statement about what they’re planning to do next, or the most unremarkable snippet of backstory ever revealed. I’m sure all those scenes between Gene and Jailbreak where they gaze at each other were meant to be construed as romantic, but her blasé response to each of his approaches because she “isn’t some princess waiting for her prince” or how “women are deserving of more respect” completely knocked the mood off whatever pedestal it was stepping up to. I get it, these are actual important themes that need to be recognized, and I would be more than happy to see this acknowledged in a movie built on as many metaphors as Zootopia, but the timing of her commentary was the worst I’d ever seen. The constant interruptions made it seem like her words shouldn’t be taken seriously at all!

Unsurprisingly, character background was virtually (unintentional pun. I’m incredibly sorry.) nonexistent, and everything that’s possible to be wondered about the universe could pretty much be answered with a big shrug. For example, why does Hi-5 have a band-aid? Did he get stabbed or something? When did Gene begin to show signs that he was capable of other emotions? Was the Just Dance girl deleted after the trash bin emptied itself out? We didn’t see any signs of the characters going back for her after Hi-5 had to shake off the troll, so did they just leave her there to die? If Jailbreak had been working for a long time to get out, why didn’t she use more of her hacking skills? She pulled up her hologram window things maybe three times total to escape or hide somewhere, does she seriously not have anything else in her repertoire that could potentially help Gene and Hi-5 get to where they need to be quicker? There’s so many questions that don’t even get passively explained. Then again, I’m arguing against the same people who genuinely advocated for the setting to be called Textopolis.

AND WHOSE FUCKING IDEA WAS IT TO MAKE THE MAIN CHARACTER “MEH”??

The ONE emoji with zero interesting qualities and the most monotone parents that, for some fucking batshit insane reason, were given more than the minute of screentime they deserved. I understand for a quick gag, their emotionless response to everything could be funny, but their conversations would just stretch on and on and on. As for Gene, I trusted you, T.J. Miller. I can’t believe you betrayed me, especially after such a hilariously perfect role in Deadpool. Never in my life have I felt so disappointed in a single person. There is no justifiable reason for you to be proud of what you’ve done here. To be honest, I’m pretty sure I astral projected at least three times as I struggled to repress the memory of this trainwreck before it even ended. When I wasn’t desperately clawing at the armrests mid-convulsion, I was staring vacantly at the center of the screen, wondering how this week could have gone so wrong.

This was basically a 91-minute long advertisement. The whiplash of traveling between product placement to product placement nearly made me throw up, which was ostensibly the only thing that could’ve made this worse. Dropbox, Spotify, Candy Crush, Just Dance, YouTube, Facebook, and the almighty Twitter, I hope you’re happy with what you’ve wrought. The “emoji-pop” dance assaulted my eyes so suddenly, acting as the unnecessary cherry on top of the feel-good ending; I think that’s when I officially lost all hope in enjoying the rest of my night.

It’s honestly taking every ounce of my being to hold onto the little bit of life that I have after the Emoji Movie ripped my soul to shreds. The amount of violation I felt as my ears were subjected to endless pop culture references that were relevant years ago, nightmarish depictions of the content of each app on Alex’s phone, and the fact that the god damn Eggplant was in the Unused Emojis room when everyone knows that’s not the case is indescribable. I now have to live with the fact that every time I switch keyboards on my phone, those blank yellow faces will serve as a dark reminder of what I’ve gone through. To any of you reading this that have also watched The Emoji Movie, I am so sorry. I know how difficult it is to process. My recommendation to each and every one of you who haven’t had the chance to witness this sickening spectacle is to KEEP IT THAT WAY. Don’t give in to the peer pressure; this abomination parading itself around as an endearing motion picture will wholly and truly rattle you to the core. My only solace was the complete absence of dabbing or whipping (apart from hearing the song), and I’d like to thank every deity above and below for that small act of mercy.

Here’s to you, Sony. Thanks for ensuring that I not only sink deeper into my depression, but for forcing my mind to house the images I’ve seen today for as long as I live. I wish I could physically bring myself to chuck my phone in a garbage fire, but my entire body has gone numb. Here’s to you, and to all the writers, producers, and directors of this movie that made me sit in a corner pondering how I can possibly live in a future where this monstrosity exists.

Gravely, sincerely,

fuck you, and goodnight.

🖕

[thecreativeangel]

Labels (Peter Parker x Reader)

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You’ve always read people like open books, until meeting the mystery that is Peter Parker. But since making it your mission to figure him out, things have gotten clearer and more complicated at the same time.

Warnings: Cussing, duh. Mention of being beaten up? Oh, and that’s not my GIF. Also: Sub!Peter, kind of. Ugh, I just love Sub!Peter so much.

Words: 1,565

Peter Parker baffled you. There, you said it. He was the one thing that your brilliant mind couldn’t figure out. He hung out with the Populars, he was arrogant and cocky, he bragged and swore like a truck driver with anger issues, flirted shamelessly and much more. But when he talked to you for the first time...

“I guess we’re partners now.”

You looked up from your notes to see Peter standing over you, his hands in the pocket of his varsity jacket. He doesn’t even play sports… Your eyes scanned his figure, lanky and awkward, different than when he was with friends. When working on the project he would look at you, catch your gaze, and quickly look away, hastily grabbing a pencil and resuming work on the poster. 

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Peter Parker didn’t just confuse you, he made you show pity and mercy because you saw how he acted around certain people, how he tried too hard to look impassive, how his friends would idolize him one day and shun him the next. You saw the way he would pick at his food at lunch while the people at his table socialized, sometimes nudging him and laughing. Peter would give an exhausted smile and nothing more.

Peter wasn’t an ass kisser, at least, and you were eternally grateful. Partly because that was one less bad quality to him, and partly because you didn’t have to endure any ass kissing when the teachers paired you and Peter together for everything. No matter the class, (which, by the way, was also a weird coincidence; most of your classes were with Peter.) you always paired with him, sat next to him, worked with him.

It came to your attention that he was also brilliant. Even if he acted slightly dumber than your usual donkey, Peter did his part in projects, aced his classes and once even asked you if you wanted to study after school during homework lab. More surprising even, was that he actually showed up, exactly on time, too.

Peter Parker wore glasses. Something you noticed by mistake during a debate club meeting, an activity he came to every week. The lenses weren’t thick and they were your everyday hipster glasses; plain, thick black frame, bigger than average round glasses. The first thought that came to your mind was slight worry, because what would his friends think if they knew he came to debate club. The second thought was that he probably wore hipster glasses because they were the only ones that were “cool”. The third was that there was a small possibility that he looked kinda cute. Kinda. 

Peter tapped you politely on the shoulder, despite the fact that he was sitting right next to you.

“Hey, are you done with the main argument?”

You turn away from the computer screen and smile faintly. “Um, almost, just need to finish the-”

“The closing sentence? It’s hard, right? Remember to encapsulate the major points from previous paragraphs. I-I highlighted them on my sheet if you need help.” He rambled, pausing for breath and turning the faintest shade of delicate pink. “Not that you need it, you probably have it covered. N-nevermind.”

You stared at him, enjoying the newfound stutter that he developed. Peter on the other hand, took your silence the wrong way. He mumbled a “sorry” and turned back to his own document. You could have corrected your staring but you enjoyed the red tint to his ears and the fumbling of his hands all too much.

Peter Parker was secretly insecure, but you never knew the extent of it. There were so many rumors about him and his friends, you thought he’d learned to ignore them, but you were wrong. All it took was for someone to whisper behind his back and he would become paranoid, tapping his foot and holding the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white. Peter would become irritable, sometimes having miniature explosions and nearly yelling at the person to stop whispering. That was bad for his image though. Bad for the “calm and collected” aura he had built.

You discovered it was easy to pacify the situation. All it took was to ask them to stop in a gentle voice, and they always did, or they’d have to face you mad, and no one ever wanted that. You’d placed a hand on Peter’s left shoulder blade, rubbing circles with your thumb. Since then it was his weakness, a guaranteed way to calm him down. His grip would relax, along with the muscles in his back and arms. He was okay.

Peter Parker cared more than he let on. There were times when you questioned whether he was really impassive, or if it was an act, but that was all settled on the 18th of April. By chance, you had walked down the guidance counselors hallway. You didn’t mean to listen in, but you’re glad you did.

“I know I messed up, but he was-talking and I-you should’ve heard what he was saying-”

“Peter I understand, but that’s no reason to hit him.”

You tuned out and stood near the water fountain like a statue, listening to the guidance counselor ramble on about student guidelines. Peter got in a fight again. He said he wouldn’t.

“Please, please don’t tell Aunt May. She-she can’t know this, it’s been a rough year, and-please don’t.”

“Peter I won’t tell your aunt, as long as you promise it won’t happen again.”

“It won’t. And…will (Name) know about this? ‘Cuz I promised and she really trusted me, a-and she’d be really disappointed if-”

“I won’t tell her, Peter.”

That night you came to the May Parker’s apartment for movie night as usual, this time carrying a container full of brownies. And when Peter accidentally fell asleep on your lap during the first half of The Hunger Games, you may or may not have kissed the top of his head, just because.

Peter Parker was torn at the edges, cracked just the slightest bit. You knew that the second he came to class with a bruised jaw and scratch marks. You had the decency to ask after class.

“Lucas thought his girlfriend was cheating on him with me.” He mumbles, refusing to look at you. “I’m n-not allowed to sit with them, and-I think it’s better not to be near them anymore.”

“Peter…” You trail off, thinking hard. “You can sit with us.”

“I don’t think-”

“It’s not a discussion, Parker. You’re sitting with us.”

Ned and Michelle weren’t happy at all. Well, Michelle showed it in her own special way, and Ned was a polite sweetheart as always.

“Why is he here?” Michelle deadpans, not so quietly. Peter shrinks back in his seat and begins to pick at his food like he did at his old table. You don’t like that.

“Shut up, Mickey.” You say through clenched teeth, hesitant to show Peter affection in front of your friends. Michelle would never stop teasing you for that.

“Seriously (Name),” Ned whispers to you. “How do you know he’s trustworthy?”

You rolled your eyes and twisted around to Peter, who had paled noticeably. “Can you-” You say it too loudly and Peter flinched, making your heart clench. You soften your voice to just above a whisper. “Can you give us a second, please?”

He gave you a tiny nod and you grin back before scooting down the empty lunch table, dragging Ned and Michelle with you.

Ned rubbed his arms when you let go. “Listen, I know you don’t trust Peter, but I do.” You confidently. “Mickey, you sat with me because everyone thought I was weird, and everyone thought you were going to kill them.”

“That’s true.” Michelle admits.

“Ned, I asked you to sit with us when I saw Flash shit talking your weight, right?”

“Yes?”

“And do you remember what I did to Flash after that?”

A bright smile appears on his face. “You hid mashed potatoes in his hoodie.”

“Fuck yes I did. Point is, we’re a bunch of total losers, no denying that, but’s it’s okay. We know each other from the lowest points in our lives, and we help one another, just like we’re going help Peter. No man, woman or loser left behind, ‘member?”

“That’s deep.” Ned says, kind of ruining the moment but you smiled at his comment anyway.

Michelle huffs loudly. “Fine… But I know you like him.”

You spend the rest of the lunch period trying and failing to find a good comeback.

Peter Parker is a mystery, to everyone but you, because now you see through him. He can’t take pressure well and you don’t blame him because he’s taken enough pressure already. He loves you for that, even if he hasn’t said it aloud yet. You know how to scratch the spot right above the nape of his neck that makes him purr, and that he prefers tea to coffee, that he loves to lay his head on your stomach while you run your fingers through his hair. He knows that you love freshly washed laundry and geeky movie marathons under dim lights and a blanket, hoarding books and randomly organizing files of aesthetics on your computer.

Peter could never find the word to express how grateful he is that you were assigned as his partner for the history project nearly a year ago, that you had let him in, given him a chance. You love him for the true Peter Parker, and he loves you right back. The two of you are polar opposites, supposedly nothing in common. A boy and a girl, a Popular and a nerd, and those will forever be just labels.

[rudra-writes]

Pellurin Date Night (Part 9)

Part of a roleplay story with Telurin’s player. After attending the festival, Pallas confesses his feelings to Telurin, but the death knight has concerns that Pallas may have been too inebriated to think clearly. (Advisory for some erotic content.)

“Don’t go. I don’t want you to leave,” Pallas gasps, holding Telurin’s wrist tighter as if worried Tel might actually attempt to wander off to find some woods. “I need you here, right now.” Trying to convey how much Telurin is wanted, the priest stretches out to kiss him on the lips, his hands caressing the sides of the death knight’s face and his hair.

Telurin welcomes the kiss. He lets his hand run back up the Anchorite’s body, back to those sensitive tendrils, stroking them gently.

“That’s all you needed to say then.” The death knight purrs, switching his attention to the other tendril. His tail come around and strokes Pallas’s outer thigh, layering sensation for the Anchorite. If Pallas wanted him gentle, Telurin is certainly happy to oblige, starting with these featherlight touches.

Even these soft touches cause Pallas to blush hot, the blood pounding in his chest and racing to his cock. He loves receiving Telurin's attention, especially right now. The priest closes his eyes, and tries to touch Telurin's mind, intending to show the death knight how aroused he's becoming from even this gentle treatment.

Playfully, he also shares a mental scenario with Telurin bound straight up and down with his wrists suspended aloft and his ankles tied, where he can be lashed by the Light. //Would you like that?// Pallas asks him. He wonders if he can concentrate long enough to perform such play in the state he's in, all but trembling under the delicious touches of the death knight's fingertips.

Telurin raises an eyebrow at the mental image, but the resulting hardening of his cock betrays how interested he is in the idea of being tied and at Pallas's mercy. One look at the Anchorite, however, and he shakes his head, keeps his touches gentle where otherwise he would have responded with a rougher, more demanding touch.

"I think as arousing as that idea is, mornings are for gentleness." The death knight kisses Pallas's forehead, and guides him to lie back against the pillows with a tenderness that's incongruous with his imposing appearance. "Let me take care of you today."

Pallas nods gratefully, allowing himself to be easily tipped back against the pillows by the larger draenei. Still unclothed from when Telurin undressed him the night before, his skin and hair are the color of milk, his cock half-hard from mere anticipation. He keeps his hands in contact with Tel's cool body for as long as he can, finally peeling them away to catch himself as he lays back.

Telurin rises just long enough to strip out of his pants, before sitting back down next to Pallas's prone form. His own cock juts proudly out at attention, both from the earlier mental images as well as the sight of Pallas naked and stretched out before him. He lets his fingers wander over that milky skin, shoulder to thigh and back up, avoiding the Anchorite's more sensitive areas for now.

"I will never tire of this, Pallas." He murmurs, hand currently on the Anchorite's hip. "I could spend days worshiping your skin." He moves his hand a few inches to the side and trails a single finger down Pallas's length.

Pallas smiles where he lays, his rib cage heaving slowly in response to the death knight's touches, the texture of his fingertips rougher than his own smooth skin. He of course finds Telurin very attractive, even if in entirely different ways, and he enjoys the size and the dangerous quality of the other man. Telurin's hard edges are emphasized by his scarred body. Pallas still didn't know what those scars were from. It had clearly failed to finish the death knight, whatever it had been.

He smiles a little more at being told Telurin finds him desirable, closing his eyes and keening faintly at the light touch to his cock. "Did you always think so highly of me?" Pallas murmurs. He feels as if he might melt from the touches alone. "Even when we first met?"

"Hmm..." Telurin smirks, thinking back to their first meeting. "I recall being surprised at your mental abilities against those orcs. I had dismissed you as a non-combatant before then. But I found myself suitably impressed with your courage, and your lack of fear at my presence." He leaves Pallas's cock alone once more to head up to trace around one of the Anchorite's nipples. "You were perhaps a bit too bold, at first. I was sure you didn't know what you were getting into." He presses the pad of one finger against the same nipple and rubs in a gentle circle. "But you were persistent, and it was clear *someone* should be looking out for your well-being, and I can only resist temptation for so long before giving in..."

"I didn't know," Pallas agrees with a small nod. To an extent, he still doesn't know what he's getting into. He sounds breathless at having his nipple toyed with. This, and how focused Telurin is on him, is enough to make him hard. "I took a chance with you, one that I don't regret." To say the least. "Now a day doesn't go by that I'm not thinking about you inside me, or sucking you." The priest admits, his cheeks darkening again.

"I felt that way since early on." He remembers blushing at Telurin's shirtless masculinity while sewing his wound. "The fact that you are a death knight was no deterrent. If anything..." Pallas trails off, blushing further.

"All the better that you ended up with me than some of the others..." Telurin looks serious now, as he thinks about what could have happened if Pallas had encountered a more sadistic individual. He rests his hand over the Anchorite’s heart, feeling his lifeblood coursing through his slender frame. "This could have gone much worse for you, I hope you realize."

Pallas's heart flutters underneath Telurin's fingertips. In spite of the death knight's warning, or perhaps because of it, the Anchorite relaxes, moving his own white hand to caress the veined back of the one placed over his heart. He smiles faintly. "I knew you weren't going to hurt me." Telurin's care and protectiveness of the Anchorite had been something Pallas had observed since the beginning. He moves his tail to curl around the death knight's. "If your personality had been different, I don't think I would have stayed."

Telurin nods, satisfied with this answer, and twists his hand under Pallas's to bring the Anchorite’s hand to his lips. "Good to hear." he coils his tail around Pallas's, enjoying the closeness it brings, smirk slowly returning. "I'm glad you have some sense, at least." Telurin's tone is soft and without heat as he teases Pallas. He sets the Anchorite's hand down on his own massive thigh, and returns to his gentle strokes, teasing Pallas another way, now.

Pallas's smile widens. "Only some sense?" He delights in the kiss, and in Telurin's sexy, confident smirk, "Do you mean to imply that I must not have all that much sense to be lying naked in a bed in front of you... Nnnn." His hand is placed on Telurin's thigh. It's massive, and his hardening cock isn't far away, tempting Pallas with the very sight of it while the death knight teases him. "Oh, Light." The Anchorite strokes Tel's thigh tentatively, half-closing his eyes and allowing himself to drink in the sight of the other man's body.

Telurin makes a pleased hum as Pallas runs his hand obediently along his thigh. "You do keep taunting me, sassing me, inciting my baser desires.... Some would say that's not very wise." The death knight’s hand finds Pallas's cock once more, gives him the barest of strokes, light and barely touching the sensitive skin. "You're going to find out just how unwise if you keep to it." He abandons Pallas's cock to cup his balls, squeezing just enough for Pallas to feel uncomfortable and make him squirm.

That edged tone Telurin is using makes all the pale hairs on Pallas's body stand on end, his nerves firing off at the light touches. The sense of danger, and of being toyed with by a draenei who's so much bigger and legitimately scarier than himself, makes him feel lightheaded with excitement. Pallas closes his eyes shut, squirming and wincing faintly at the light squeeze to his balls. The fact that his cock only becomes more erect indicates he quite likes this treatment, and everything is fine. He continues petting the enormous muscles in Telurin's thick leg, his other hand grasping the sheets.

"What will I find out?" Pallas asks with a quiet moan. He's already practically at the death knight's mercy. Is this how Telurin feels, when he's bound? he wonders fleetingly.

Telurin eyes the reaction his rough treatment has had on Pallas, and shakes his head with a chuckle. "Keep pressing and you will find out." He purrs, and after he gives Pallas a light tug to go with that squeeze, lets him go to trail lower still, fingers splayed out along Pallas's rump. "Though I advise you to wait until some other time to try it, I have something rather different in mind for this morning." He reaches for the oil, an indication of what's to come.

Pallas gasps at the tug, then keens at the sensation of the death knight's large fingers on his ass. "I... Ohhh..." Even the light touching is enough to wind him up, similar as it is to the priest's own fantasies of Telurin touching him. He isn't certain what Telurin is referring to in his warnings -- It could be all manner of things, from being held down and fucked in some wilderness somewhere to being groped while they're in private, and Pallas moans at the mere thought of these actions.

He will tease the death knight in return, not now, but sometime when he is in better control of himself. There are still many things he could do mentally that Telurin might find enjoyable. They have gone untested thus far largely due to Telurin's own physicality being fascinating to Pallas.

The Anchorite's eyes are closed, so he doesn't see the moment in which Telurin reaches for the oil, but he feels Tel's hand move. "What are you going to do?"

Telurin thumbs the top off the oil, a distinctive enough sound in the quiet of their room. "You think of me inside you often, hmm?" he taunts, oiling a finger and returning it to Pallas's ass, slipping underneath his tail and circling the ring of muscle hidden there. "I intend to spend the morning doing just that. By the time I'm done with you, well, you won’t be thinking enough to be able to taunt me."

"Th-that sounds like a challenge," Pallas retorts back, although it sounds strained from just how /good/ Telurin's oiled finger feels on his ass and circling the tiny rosette in-between his cheeks. His eyes close and his back arches. "Do you really--ah--think you can do that?"

"I'm almost doing it now," Telurin replies, amused. He presses against Pallas, lets the tip of his finger slip into the other draenei. "And I'm only just getting started on the preparation." He purrs, beginning to work his finger in farther, slowly working Pallas open, twisting back and forth as he goes, letting the rest of his hand rest lightly on his cheeks and brush against his balls.

"D-don't think too highly of yourself," Pallas replies, trying to sound stubborn even though Telurin's finger alone feels intense to him, as does the texture of the death knight's hand against his ass cheeks and his balls. The priest whimpers, pressing faintly back against Telurin's hand after a while. He prays he won't simply come at the first penetration of the death knight's cock, but then... if he does, he may simply have to learn to train himself to come multiple times, the way Tel could.

That pulls a chuckle from the death knight, and he pushes his finger into Pallas as far as he can, curling the digit inside of him before dragging back out and adding another. "Still overly confident, I see." He murmurs, beginning to work the slender Anchorite open in earnest, sliding in and out of him with two fingers while continuing his light caresses over the rest of his body, having put the vial of oil aside for now.

Telurin's fingers are no small things, particularly compared to Pallas's petite body, and the Anchorite is soon gasping for breath, making sounds as if the death knight is already balls deep inside him. His fingers tighten on Telurin's bulky thigh and around the fistful of bedsheets he's clutching. An impish thought crosses his mind that he should zap the death knight's leg, as Telurin probably won't be expecting it in this moment, but... Pallas hesitates for once in his life, having seen how large Telurin's cock already is, and not being certain if having it hastily jammed into his ass in retaliation would be worth the moment of mischief or not.

"Not... overly confident..." the priest gasps, as Telurin torments his body with his light touches.

Telurin rewards the decision to agree with a stroke down one of Pallas's tendrils, this time using enough pressure in his grip to give Pallas some of that much needed friction. His fingers scissor inside the Anchorite, working him open thoroughly, slow enough to leave Pallas craving more and fast enough to keep him focused on relaxing and giving into the sensation.

"There, Pallas, isn't that nice?" the death knight purrs, trailing from Pallas's tendrils to his cock. "See what happens when you let me do as I please?" He wiggles his fingers once more inside him, deciding Pallas is loose enough for another.

It is nice -- So nice, in fact, that Pallas is tempted to be good for a change and let Telurin continue to toy with him unhurriedly. The priest is already starting to take on the appearance of one lost to pleasure, his white hair loose and tousled around his head, and a light sheen of sweat beginning to form over his skin. His nipples and tendrils also feel incredibly sensitive for all the teasing. He abandons the thought of zapping Telurin with the Light. As much as he's curious what his punishment would be, he's equally curious to see what Telurin will do if left to his own devices.

His body wriggles, as keeping himself in one place for Telurin's teasing hands is proving more and more difficult, but he nods obediently in response to the death knight's question.

The death knight looks pleased as his Anchorite lover gives into the pleasure he's giving. He leaves off his light petting to grab the oil, pouring a line on his cock and setting it aside once more. Moving so that he's settled between Pallas's legs, he runs his free hand over Pallas's thighs, one at a time, over and then under to hook them up over his own, spreading the Anchorite open in front of him.

"Beautiful..." Telurin murmurs, more to himself than anything.

Pallas's eyes open when he feels Telurin indent the bed in front of him as he moves, the priest's sight tracing a line from the death knight's nethers all the way up to his face.

Beautiful... He says Pallas is beautiful, as he opens the smaller man's legs and settles himself in-between. Pallas agrees, but he agrees from his own point of view, gazing up at Telurin in return. For him, Tel is the handsome one whom he can't stop staring at.

It is overcast this morning, and outside it has begun to rain. It made the light coming in through the window diffused, and there are pattering sounds of the rain coming down. Pallas feels peaceful, even with their positioning being as erotic as it is. He reaches out to touch the death knight's leg, gazing up into the other man's eyes with an expression of great encouragement and trust. Even if he no longer properly had a home since leaving Karabor, he felt that wherever this man was, he'd be at home in his heart.

[shesinbrooklynwithme]

Dr Jekyll character profile (GCSE)

Character Summary:

Dr Jekyll is a respectable member of society, who is highly intelligent and very well liked.  He is shown as the epitome of Victorian society but he puts on a false face to appear respectable. Dr. Jekyll is an ambitious man of science, and his research was deemed too fanciful for Lanyon’s taste. Jekyll is also a very religious man, who created the potion to split his personality into the good side and the bad side from one another.

Key Quotes

1. The Story of the Door

“ And the person that drew the cheque is the very pink of the proprieties, celebrated too, and one of your fellows who do what they call good.”

2. Search for Mr Hyde

“Henry Jekyll, M.D, D.C.L, L.L.D, F.R.S, ect.”

“And set forth in the direction of Cavendish Square, that citadel of medicine.”

“It is more than ten years since Henry Jekyll became too fanciful for me.”

“One house, however, second from the corner, was still occupied entire; and at the door of this, which wore a great air of wealth and comfort, though it was now plunged in darkness except for the fanlight.”

3. Dr Jekyll was quite at ease

“a large, well-made, smooth-faced man of fifty, with something of a stylish cast perhaps, but every mark of capacity and kindness- you could see by his looks that he cherished for Mr. Utterson a sincere and warm affection.”

“The large handsome face of Dr Jekyll grew pale to the very lips and there came a blackness about his eyes.”

“‘But I do sincerely take a great, a very great interest in that young man; and if I am taken away, Utterson, I wish you to promise me that you will bear with him and get his rights for him.’”

4. The Carew Murder Case

“but when the stick was laid before him, he could doubt no longer: broken and battered as it was, he recognised it for one that he had himself presented many years before to Henry Jekyll.”

“This was the home of Henry Jekyll’s favourite; of a man who was heir to a quarter of a million sterling.”

5. Incident of the Letter

“It was the first time that the lawyer had been received in that part of his friends quarters; and gazed round with a distasteful sense of strangeness.”

“The fire burned in the grate; a lamp was set lighted on the chimney-shelf, for even in the houses the fog began to lie, thickly and there, close up to the warmth, sat Dr Jekyll, looking deadly sick.”

“and bade him welcome in a changed voice.”

“I bind my honour to you that I am done with him in the world. It is all at an end. And indeed he does not want my help; you do not know him as I do”

“The doctor seemed seized with a qualm of faintness; he shut his mouth tight and nodded.”

“‘What!’ he thought. ‘Henry Jekyll forge for a murderer!’ And his blood ran cold in his veins.”

6. Remarkable Incidence of Dr Lanyon

“He came out of his seclusion, renewed relations with his friends, became once more their familiar guest and entertainer; and whilst he had always been known for charities, he was now no less distinguished for religion.”

“He had his death-warrant written legibly upon his face. The rosy man had grown pale; his face had fallen away; he was visibly balder and older; and yet it was not so much these tokens of a swift physical decay that arrested the lawyer’s notice, as a look in the eye and quality of manner that seemed to testify to some deep-seated terror of the mind.”

“‘I wish to see or hear no more of Dr Jekyll,’ he said in a loud, unsteady voice.”

“I mean from henceforth to lead a life of extreme seclusion; you must not be surprised, nor must you doubt my friendship, if my door is often shut even to you.”

7. Incident at the Window

“And, by the way, what an ass you must have thought me, not to know that this was a back way to Dr Jekyll’s! It was partly your own fault that I found it out even when I did.”

“and sitting close beside it, taking the air with an infinite sadness like some disconsolate prisoner, Utterson saw Dr Jekyll.”

“very low. It will not last long, thank God.”

“But the words were hardly uttered, before the smile was struck out of his face and succeeded by an expression of such abject terror and despair, as froze the very blood of the two gentle men below.’

8. The Last Night

“‘You know the doctor’s ways, sir,’ replied Poole, ‘and how he shuts himself up.’”

“No, sir; master’s made away with; he was made away with eight days ago, when we heard him cry out upon the name of God”

“‘For God’s sake,’ he added, ‘find me some of the old.’”

“Dr Jekyll- God knows what it was, but it was never Dr Jekyll; and it is the belief of my heart that there was murder done.”

“it was different to the heavy creaking tread of Henry Jekyll”

“Nowhere was there any trace of Henry Jekyll dead or alive.”

“Go then, and first read the narrative which Lanyon warned me to place in your hands; and if you care to hear more, turn to the confession of Your unworthy and unhappy friend, HENRY JEKYLL.”

9. Dr Lanyon’s Narrative

“Lanyon my life, my honour, my reason, are all at your mercy; if you fail me to-night, I am lost.”

“some powders, a phial and a paper book. This drawer I beg of you to carry back with you to Cavendish Square exactly as it stands.”

“and if that night passes without event, you will know that you have seen the last of Henry Jekyll.”

“his clothes, that is to say, although they were of rich and sober fabric, were enormously too large for him in every measurement.”

“for there before my eyes- pale and shaken, and half fainting, and groping before him with his hands, like a man restored from death- there stood Henry Jekyll.”

10.Henry Jekyll’s full statement of the case

“I stood already committed to a profound duplicity of me.”

“by whose partial discovery I have been doomed to such a dreadful shipwreck: the man is not truly one, but truly two.”

“It was on the moral side, and in my own person, that I learned to recognise the thorough and primitive duality of man”

“Certain agents I found to have the power to shake and pluck back that fleshly vestment, even as a wind might toss the curtains of a pavilion.”

“I felt younger, lighter, happier in body; within I was conscious of a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images running like a millrace in my fancy, a solution of the bonds of obligation, an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul.”

“Hence, although I had now two characters as well as two appearances, one was wholly evil, and the other was still the old Henry Jekyll, that incongruous compound of whose reformation and improvement I had already learned to despair.”

“Yes, I had gone to bed Henry Jekyll, I had awakened Edward Hyde.”

“ten minutes later, Dr Jekyll had returned to his own shape and was sitting down, with a darkened brow, to make a feint of breakfasting.”

“Jekyll had more than a father’s interest; Hyde had more than a son’s indifference.”

“Yes, I preferred the elderly and discontented doctor, surrounded by friends and cherishing honest hopes”

“I embraced anew the restrictions of natural life! with what sincere renunciation I locked the door by which I had so often gone and come, and ground the key under my heel.”

“I embraced anew the restrictions of natural life! with what sincere renunciation I locked the door by which I had so often gone and come, and ground the key under my heel.”

“Jekyll was now my city of refuge; let but Hyde peep out an instant, and the hands of all men would be raised to take and slay him.”

“This, then, is the last time, short of a miracle, that Henry Jekyll can think his own thoughts or see his own face (now how sadly altered!) in the glass.”

“Here then, as I lay down the pen and proceed to seal up my confession, I bring the life of that unhappy Henry Jekyll to an end.”

Techniques used by the author:

Used to showcase mans hubris

Illustrates the ever crossing lines of science and religion.

Represents the highest goodness

Shows we all need a little darkness in us

His changing introverted and extroverted moods, to represent his transformations.

[olivaysketches]

Click for better quality**

Superhero-ing Gone Awry

Red is a superhero and college student who fights crime. Napster is her faithful tech-y sidekick.

“You doing okay out there Red?” Napster sounded in my ear.

“I’m fine!” I growled.

“You sure? You’re moving a little slower than usual,” Napster said uncertainly.

“Just a little under the weather today. It’s nothing to worry about,” I assured him.

“If you’re sick maybe you shouldn’t-“ Napster started.

“I said I’m fine!” I snapped effectively silencing the poor guy. I let out a heavy sigh as I surveyed the area. One of Dr. Deranged’s creations just had to be out tonight. I should have been in home in bed. Hell I knew that but I had responsibilities to take care of.

I landed on the next rooftop pausing for a minute to catch my breath. Holy shit this sucked. His mutant’s timing could not be worse. My eyes scanned the streets below. All I wanted was to get this over with as quickly as possible and get back in bed where I belonged. It didn’t take long for me to find him, the sound of alarms were a pretty good indicator that I had found him.

“He’s at Synowicki’s on the corner of-“ Napster rattled off.

“Yeah I got it,” I hissed cutting him off. I looked towards the ground below and then towards some piping along the walls. I was so going to regret this later. The pipe was fairly sturdy. Taking hold I carefully slid down the pipe until I reached the ground. I darted down the alley way cutting down behind one building and down another alley landing me right outside Synowicki’s Jewelry store. The large glass windows were completely smashed in, glass littered the ground. The metal grates over the window were bent backwards creating a large opening for me to enter. Our perp was standing in the middle of the jewelry store smashing his way through the glass cases and snatching up what he could- shoving jewelry into a filthy pillowcase. I cleared my throat but he continued smashing through cases with his bare hands, which conveniently enough shifted to a dense metal whenever he so chose

“Were flowers and chocolates not cutting it?” I shouted over the alarms. The man spun around with a scowl etched into his harsh face.

“Beat it kid!” The dark haired villain sneered.

“Look can we just skip to the part where I kick your ass so I can go home,” I whined. The man gave me a curious look before bursting into laughter.

“Yeah sure kid,” He waved me off as he continued to smash through the cases. Fuck this shit. As he reeled his fist back to smash another case I leapt over to him catching his arm and holding him back. He growled as he turned his attention to me. I scowled at him in no mood to play these games.

“That’s it. you’re in for it now kid!” He hollered pulling his fist back.

Though his fists (and who knows what else) could transform into literal titanium his movements were slow. He took a swing at me which I sidestepped easily. Iron Fists went stumbling forward thrown off by his own momentum. I allowed myself a small smile. This would be over quickly. He turned around snarling. Sick or not I could still do this. He lunged at me but once again he was to slow. I stepped around him. He lumbered forward a few steps before spinning around with another swing of his arm. I ducked under his punch and quickly sidestepped the other fist headed in my direction. The quick movement caused the room to spin. I took a steadying step backwards head now dizzy. Damn it, pull yourself together! You’re not that sick! I shook my head trying to clear some of the fuzziness surrounding it. My momentary distraction was enough for Iron Fists to gather his bearings and aim another punch my way, only this time it hit. Blinding pain ripped through my side as I fell to the floor.

“Fuck!” I screamed upon impact. Black spots clouded my vision. The punch hurt about as much as you might imagine a metal fist tearing across your ribcage might feel like, which is to say it hurt… a lot. Tears stung the backs of my eyes. Oh great! That looks heroic! I groaned as I started to pull myself up to my hands and knees. Too slow. Another excruciating punch this time to my cheek. My arms collapsed beneath me. Not good, not good. A metal footed kick to my stomach knocked the wind out of me leaving me coughing and sputtering for air. Get up! Get up! He’s going to kill you if you don’t Get. The. Fuck. Up! He raised his foot reading to stomp it over my head. Nope, nope, nope, nope. I rolled out of the way his foot missing me by a fraction of an inch and smashing straight through the floor. He howled in outrage as he started to yank his foot free. I jumped to my feet ignoring the inevitable spinning that accompanied the movement. I gulped down air as I tried to regain my bearings. My pulse thrummed against my neck pounding in my ears. I blinked the sweat out of my eyes. Should I be sweating already?

He hooked his fist left, I ducked, my head protesting in response. He lumbered forward swinging aimlessly to the right. I stumbled backwards desperate to get out of the way. His fist clipped my shoulder causing me to lose my balance. My arm reached out automatically to catch myself. My hand clamped onto the golden edge of one of the broke cases, My forearm slamming down into one of the broken shards still sticking up from the side of the case. I let out a high pitched cry as I released the case and fell fully onto my back, panting as I clutched my wounded arm to my chest. Iron Fists Skin shimmered into a bright silver. So it’s his whole body then… Shit! He collapsed on top of me. I cried out as his knee rammed down on my shin. His fist slammed down on my face. Everything in my vision blurred. My ears rang and my body burned. Panic rose up in my throat or maybe that was just bile. He punched me again. Spots clouded my vision. I wouldn’t last long like this. My hands scraped at the ground floundering for a piece of glass large enough to use as a weapon. My fingers finally curled around a sharp shard drawing blood. I looked up at him through bleary eyes as he reeled another fist back and then I realized one very fatal flaw to my plan. The dude was made of fucking metal!!!

My eyes locked onto his begging for mercy. His eyes looked down on my cold and merciless. I started laughing to myself in my foggy fever induced hysteria. Iron Fists hesitated and that was all I needed. I bolted upright driving the glass shard into his left eye, one of the only things nonmetal about him at the moment. He roared in pain wrenching back onto his haunches freeing me from where I had been pinned. I rolled over onto my hands and knees scrambling to get away. My face was suddenly forced into the ground chin first before sliding to the side and being smeared across the glass cluttered tile.

“You’re dead!” He barked.

“Napster!” I mumbled through the squeezing of my face. All the lights in the entire building suddenly flipped on to full capacity. The man hissed his arms raising to shield his eyes…eye. I stumbled up blindly to my feet trying to put as much distance as I could between us while I had the chance. I blind a few times looking for anything I could use to my advantage. My eyes landed on the fire hydrant. I stumbled forward body screaming in white hot pain. I could scarcely breathe. The alarms were drowned out by the sound of my own heartbeat. I was fading faster than usual this time.

Iron Fists screamed his feat clanking against the tile as he pulled himself to his feet. Napster jumped through the broken window baseball bat in hand. Never had I been so happy to see that stupid blonde head of his Napster quickly charged Iron Fists with his aluminum bat. I squeaked as I watched Napster take a hard blow to his eye. Napster swung the bat hitting the man hard in the stomach pulling the bat back however only proved that more damage had been done to the bat than to Iron Fists. Iron fists snickered as he grabbed Napster’s head and smashed him into the floor. I turned back towards the fire extinguisher and tripped, catching myself on the ‘Break Glass’ Box and using it to pull myself back up on unsteady legs. Without wasting anymore time I slammed my elbow through the glass, gritting my teeth through the sting. I yanked the fire extinguisher free whirring it around and aiming it towards my least favorite person in this moment. I sprayed it in his… eye. He coughed as he staggered backwards. Napster jumped back into action going to punch our metal friend in the side of his head. Napster winced but continued aim his fists towards the metal man. Iron Fists swept his across Napster’s face backhanding him back onto the floor.

I leapt forward raising the extinguisher above my head and slamming it down over Iron Fists. The extinguisher bounced back a fat dent now in it’s side. He growled in reply. Nope! I’m not doing this again! I slammed the container against his head again and again and again in rapid succession, the movement making even me dizzy. As I brought it down one final time the container burst open. I jumped back coughing as I crawled away from the white… what even was that stuff!?!

My face burned, my eyelids now feeling to heavy to stay open. I crumpled to the floor curling into the fetal position as my breathing became more shallow. The world spun around me. I closed my eyes to no avail. My stomach lurched into my throat. I opened my eyes and instantly regretted it. The world pulsed with my heartbeat as it spun in dizzying circles.

“Red? Red!” Napster’s voice sounded far away. I reached my arm out towards the sound an involuntary groan escaping my throat in response to the movement. The fuzzy image of Napster appeared in front of me. Behind him I could see our silver and slightly dented friend scoop up his winnings and make a break for the door. I lifted my head wanting to go after him but physically unable to. I instantly collapsed back to the ground breathing heavy. The edges of my vision were black creeping inwards. Sirens sounded in the distance. I looked towards Napster. Never before had I been so completely helpless in front of him.

“I have to get you out of here,” Napster warned before sliding his arms under me. I whimpered as he hefted me up into his arms bridal style. I curled into him hanging on as if my life depended on it (which it kind of did). I breathed in the smell of his cologne and nuzzled further into his neck. I squeezed my eyes shut as the tears I had been holding back finally escaped, rolling in steady streams down my cheeks. My body was jostled around as Napster hurriedly carried me out of the building and away from the screeching sirens. I mumbled incoherently into Napster’s throat before the darkness finally overtook me.

[vvatchword]

Storysnobbing

A long time ago I was a REAL story snob, as in, truly insufferable. I used to haunt the Zelda genre on FFN just wasting writers with advice to “FIX YOUR FUCKING GRAMMAR AND SPELLING DO YOU HAVE NO SHAME” and “BAD CHARACTERIZATION, BUT WHY” and “WHY IS EVERYONE KISSING” (because I was a militant asexual on top of all of this I guess)

A few years ago I finally had some worthwhile insight about the nature of stories, ie, that quality is not everything, that certain subjects are not necessarily objectively better than other subjects (for example, literary fiction is not automatically better than the romance genre), that you go to stories for all kinds of reasons, logical and emotional, and that those reasons are valid. This released me from a host of bad beliefs that had hitherto been making my life a living hell. It was okay to read and like fantasy again! It was okay to not subject my work to impossible standards and write again! It was okay to like ALL KINDS of entertainment in all kinds of ways. This even extended to the mercy I gave to myself, personally. I had been totally unforgiving of all failure, even my personal fallibility as a normal human being.

I cannot begin to explain how much better my life has gotten as a result of understanding this concept.

This.... has led........ to a quandary.............

I love bad literature. Like so much. I want to talk about bad literature. I want to talk about non-sequiturs and horrible dialogue and grammatical mistakes that lead to hilarious secondary meanings and characters acting completely bass-ackwards. I want that. And at the same time, I know that publicly-shared literature represents a person’s hard work, that the writer is literally putting themselves out there at the mercy of the public, that this is an act of bravery and hope combined, and that, yes, there are people who really LIKE that literature, warts and all. One person’s shit is another person’s chocolate cake. It can’t be all about me and my taste. That’s fucking common sense.

Example: I fucking hate Twilight, but that doesn’t mean Twilight doesn’t have value to someone. It is emotional pornography revolving around power play. That’s literally its point. The fantasy of being desirable and dominated. Somebody wants that. Good for them. I think it’s fucking shit and it makes me angry but it’s also not my flavor so I should fuck off.

But at the same junction: shouldn’t we be allowed to say why we think a thing is shit? Isn’t calling something shit fun? I fucking adore MST3k. I own bad movies and books just because they’re bad and they make me laugh-cry. There can even be good moral reasons for picking literature apart. For example, Twilight has a huge YA audience that’s just figuring relationships out. You don’t want them to think the fantasy represents something desirable in real life. There’s value in deconstructing that fantasy, even if it hurts the writer’s feelings.

Take The 40 Worst Rob Liefeld Drawings. I fucking died laughing at that piece. I return to it and its sequel at least twice a year. For a while it was the first object in any Google search of Rob Liefeld, and it remains on the front page to this day. Rob Liefeld retains a huge fanbase for his art and writing specifically. There is no way that he hasn’t heard about that article. There is no way that he hasn’t gotten sass about tiny feet and Spider-Man’s dog ass. There is no way. It’s not necessarily okay to be an asshole just because he’s rich or lazy or traced images. I both feel terrible for him and at the same time... my life has been enriched by this article, okay? I fucking adore it. I’m glad it’s public. I’m glad it wasn’t just shared with the writer’s friends.

Before the Internet, if you hated a piece of art or a book, you could talk so much shit about it with your friends. And that was where the effects of your discussion began and ended: with your friends at a table somewhere over a hamburger or whatever. Your concerns could only be heard by your friends or passersby. Maybe you could send a letter to the editor or to the producers of that work, but there was no guarantee it would be seen or considered, and that is even if you WANTED to be heard.

Now if you talk shit with your friends, it’s often publicly, on the Internets. There’s no guarantee you WON’T be seen by the creator of that work, even if you’re hidden in your IMs. And you could very possibly be the reason for bringing someone’s feelings down or causing them to remove their work or stopping creative work entirely. Those are some major repercussions. And yes, I think worrying about someone else’s feelings is worthwhile so fuck off.

See, I have this concept: everyone has a Happy Place. It’s where we put everything that gives us joy. It’s where we go when life gets shitty. What makes us happy is not necessarily of “excellent quality” and is completely personal. Any stranger who barges into someone else’s private Happy Place to take a shit in it is a fucking asshole and should be brutally beaten with a lead pipe.

I do not want to be the asshole taking a shit in someone’s Happy Place.

My current issue can thus be boiled down to the following list:

I love talking shit about other people’s work.

But I don’t like hurting those people’s feelings, and I don’t want them to stop producing.

I also don’t like hurting the feelings of the people who LIKE that person’s work.

But to find other people to talk shit with, I must post publicly.

It’s fun and a great relief to read other people’s shit-talk about creative work.

It can be valuable and insightful to criticize other people’s work. It can teach you what you find ideal for your own art, and it can reveal problematic elements in that person’s work that you don’t want to see realized in real life.

It’s arguable that once something is in the public eye, discourse is inevitable and healthy, and artists should grow a pair.

Discourse teaches us to be thoughtful about what we consume and disseminate.

Does tone and the use of ad hominems reduce the quality of discourse or make it more enjoyable? How far can one go?

You can actually cause totally unrelated parties to be too afraid to produce or show their art because they don’t want to be the subjects of derisive humor.

And so I go back and forth, back and forth. If I don’t send my thoughts specifically to that creator, it doesn’t mean that I go unheard. Even though I am not trying to be personal, there is no guarantee it won’t be felt personally... even to totally unrelated people. My friend is afraid to write because she doesn’t want to be seen as shit. Isn’t that fucking sad?

I really do want people to make whatever they’re making, regardless of skill level or talent, and I want them to post it. I don’t know how to balance shit-talking with that, though. It’s driving me crazy.

[asfeedin]

Identifying weakness: the real reason I chopped my hair

Estimated Reading Time: 7 minutes

If you know anything about me and how I operate, I’m highly strategic about most aspects of my life.

Before I’ve done something, I’ve already mapped out why I need to do it, because the dance around the playground of pros and cons can be never-ending.

Without sounding like an extremist, I’ve always been someone who’s either all in or all out. Naturally, I tend to value that quality most in people as well.

When I half-ass an idea, I get a half-assed result. And mama wants da whooooole ass.

Okay, awkward ass talk aside, I’m sure you’ve all seen this quote:

As someone who’s lived on the road for over half a decade, I was constantly at the mercy of countries that lacked the proper hair care products I needed.

So I actually was chopping my hair off every 3-6 months and using wigs and weaves to carry on as usual.

Contrary to popular belief, Black hair grows fast! And it became an annoyance to bury my fro underneath wigs constantly because I was too lazy to always cornrow them down.

It wasn’t until last year after my surgery, that I decided to let it grow out again, because I came out of that experience with a newfound gratitude and decided I’d take better care of all aspects of my body, hair included.

I remember buying a bulk order of a specific kind of hair conditioner and getting it shipped to a friend in LA, before realizing that it’s literally impossible to be able to travel with all the hair care products you needed for proper maintenance of my 4C hair.

I have a pretty substantial number of white readers here, so I wanted to include the above graphic to educate more of you on how complex our hair can be, and how the “nappy or kinky” images that society touts as unprofessional, is our hair’s natural state when not chemically modified or pressed.

I grew up dreading the hot comb burning the back of my neck every Sunday getting ready for church.

My hair was just past shoulder length at its healthiest, but the time and products it took to maintain that, always exceeded either my budget or level of patience.

So I taught myself how to do box braids, quick weaves, lace fronts, you name it.

Black women don’t wear weaves because we have to, we do it because we want to, and enjoy the convenience. Click To Tweet

I always hated how society painted Black women as incapable of growing hair, when ours are so incredibly versatile.

And for the last few years, weaves and lace fronts are the preferred style of 90% of non-Black celebrity women, but I digress.

Anyways, 2019 took me through the wringer, and I entered 2020 with this burning urge to change more than just my location.

I was ready to level-up my outer appearance, inspired by these lessons I learned last year:

Don’t aim to be nice; aim to be respected.

There are people committed to misunderstanding you.

People aren’t evil; but if they can take advantage of you, they will.

Image isn’t everything, but it can be complementary to your messaging.

The less you care what people think, the more freedom you’re afforded.

My boho, carefree, gaping smile was the look I became branded by.

Always happy, always helpful, and always ready to lend whatever I could to make someone’s day.

Holy shit, Glo. You were a total people-pleaser.

You allowed yourself to get so bent by the needs and wants of others, you bent your own self out of shape.

In typical Glo form, I wanted to investigate this further, diving into self-help books, investing in therapy, and looking into psychological questionnaires to see who else “suffers” from this.

It led me to the Myers–Briggs Personality test (here’s a free site to take yours and where I’m pulling my reference screenshots from).

I got my ENFJ-A results and immediately scrolled to the weaknesses section to have a self-deprecating pity party for one, joking but absolutely f*cking serious.

And though this discovery was made after I had my hair chopped off, it confirmed what I already knew and why I had to do it.

First and foremost, let’s point out the fact that I’m equally as extroverted as I am introverted.

Over the last 3 years, I’ve tapped into my introverted side more (even wrote about how travel impacted that), but this is something people are shocked to learn because I have so much energy online.

But I’m able to preserve energy because I’ve developed a morning routine that allows me to pour into myself before trying to pour into others.

Another shout out to the fact that I share any category with two of my faves: Uncle Barry and Oprah.

Okay, now to the flaws.

Overly idealistic: I hold my values close to me, and when someone tends to lean on the cynical side, I struggle to relate or want to engage with them, because I find it a draining way to live.

However, in the world of business, this trait will eat you up alive.

If you’re kind to people, surely they won’t turn against you?

If you do good unto others, surely they will do good back?

If you have business ethics, people you do business with will as well?

LoOoOoOooOoOooOol.

It only took me a couple really shady experiences to realize, woooooow, Glo, you really was strollin’ through life with a rose-colored lens, seeing the world how you hoped it could be, rather than how it actually was.

Some lessons need to be learned the hard way, and I’m super thankful for the people that took advantage of me or tried to get one over on me, because it exposed a weakness in myself that I’d yet to confront. Click To Tweet

While I want to tell entrepreneurs that growing a business is a thrill, the hard truth is this:

If you are truly looking to build something great, get ready for the snakes to come out.

In droves.

It’s the people you least expect as well.

And when it comes to the B2B world, a company could see you needing their services more than they need your business, and so tacking on an extra $10K to the price tag because they can, isn’t out of the norm.

Money talks and there’s a lot of people who only see dollar signs when it comes to running their business.

I don’t think I’m in the minority when it comes to genuinely wanting to serve from a place of compassion, but it’s a matter of time before you might mix with the wrong people.

It’s a side of the business world I refused to acknowledge and therefore was so blind-sighted by the act that I had no choice but to change my narrative and take back control over how and who I would allow into my world.

This sounds like a Michael Scott a la The Office reference where your weaknesses are actually your strengths, see this clip for the lolz.

When people know that you love to help others, they become too reliant on you to the point that you don’t even realize you’ve overextended yourself far beyond your boundaries should allow.

With my products and services, I’m so committed to getting people results, that I forget that even if I’m giving 100% of my time and resources, there are still external factors that play into the desired outcome.

But because I’m so caught up in delivering results, I can’t even see that I’m literally just digging myself into a hole of mismanaged expectations and effort.

Don’t get so involved in the commitment to help others that you sacrifice yourself in the process. Click To Tweet

And before I knew it, I couldn’t tell a doormat apart from my reflection.

It’s why I created my Mastermind, because I could see others who have that same generous heart for serving, and I wanted to also help them navigate the shadier sides of business that you often only learn about through mentorship and personal experience.

I’ve created so many dynamics of ways that I help others, from daily posts on social media to my e-book, to syndicated articles, to podcast interviews, to live workshops, to bootcamps, to retreats, to courses, to private mentorship, and so on.

Thousands of people have invested in my products and services over the years, but the problem is, I started to feel like I needed to go out of my way to show gratitude, as if the product or service they paid for wasn’t enough.

Too much emotional investment into the people who you want to help, will have you trying to solve all the problems of a person who bought a $10 ebook, the same way you help someone who bought a $2,000 course.

Unrealistic expectations I unknowingly placed on myself, all because I wanted to make sure people realized that no matter the investment level, they were going to get answers/results/etc, ha insert mental breakdown here

So I flew to a hairstylist who I heard was one of the best in the country, and told her to literally do whatever the hell she wanted with my hair. I’m almost positive I used those exact words.

Around the time I did it, I was so over being the “nice” girl.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to turn into some mean b*tch (sad that women need to preface this because it’s assumed we’re bossy b*tches when we want to be more assertive in business).

I’m just no longer apologizing for the boundaries I’m putting in place to protect my peace and guard my energy.

One of my mentors, Necole, said it best:

And so, here we are, two months into having this short do and I’ve never felt more myself.

It matches the page I’ve flipped in my career and the new boundaries I need to put in place to protect my energy.

It took me a good week of looking in the mirror to even recognize who was staring back. I remember rehearsing in front of my tripod, going from one power pose to another.

I love who I’m becoming. And that I can look at myself and now see the reflection of someone on a journey who’s redefining her boundaries and who she allows to join her next chapter.

If this is what my 30’s have to offer, I’m loving this newfound peace that comes with the assertion and ownership of your life.

I don’t know if any of this was useful to read, but if you’re someone who’s ready to make a bold statement to yourself or to the world, I highly recommend shaving the locks and going for a pixie.

You’ll give off just enough “Can I speak to the manager” vibes, while still having a luminous flare, which makes your expression of radical self-love something that people can model in their own lives.

Here’s to the journey, Glo

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Tags: chopped, Hair, Identifying, Real, Reason, weakness

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[kartiavelino]

Indya Moore’s Purple Carpet Outfit Honored Black Trans Ladies

In Might, Indya Moore grew to become the primary trans and brazenly nonbinary particular person to appear on the cover of Elle Magazine within the publication’s 74-year historical past. Now, she’s being honored for the duvet on the 2019 Trend Media Awards. In maybe as massive of a press release as the duvet, Moore determined to make use of her anticipated look on the awards for much more good. Throughout her pink carpet look and speech, she confirmed off her “souvenir” earrings revealing pictures of 16 trans girls who’ve been killed in 2019. Together with designer Areeayl Yoseefaw, Indya additionally carried round a framed {photograph} of Bailey Reeves, who was murdered simply three days earlier than the occasion. Throughout her speech, Indya Moore thanked everybody who made the Elle cowl attainable and drew consideration to rampant murders of trans girls this yr. “I’m so honored, grateful, and past moved to be on the duvet of Elle journal, one of many world’s strongest magazines. It’s a bittersweet feeling,” she started. “It’s onerous to have fun being celebrated for being myself throughout a time when folks like me are being murdered for being themselves.” Moore mentioned that whereas extra trans persons are expressing who they’re and being celebrated in lots of instances, others are being shunned or encounter violence all throughout America. “On this present day that I’m celebrated and awarded for being seen, I made a decision to carry them with me,” Indya mentioned throughout the speech. “Similar to me, these girls dared to exhaust their freedom to exist by being seen. Nevertheless, as an alternative of being celebrated, they’re punished for it.” Indya additionally thanked her dad and mom for being “an unimaginable instance to oldsters all over the place that it’s attainable to study and modify your parenting in one of the best pursuits of your baby’s existence.” Learn Indya Moore’s full speech on the 2019 Trend Media Awards, as transcribed by Trend Week Each day, under. Wow. I really feel so honored to share this house with you folks. It’s a really costly venue. It’s populated by very costly folks. All of our lives are so costly, together with mine and folks like me. Wow. The quilt of Elle journal. I’m so honored, grateful, and past moved to be on the duvet of Elle journal, one of many world’s strongest magazines. It’s a bittersweet feeling. As you all know — or not — I’m black and I’m trans. A few of you might be uncomfortable with the politics of my speech. And I received’t apologize for that, as a result of my life is politics. Proper now within the Supreme Court docket, they’re voting on whether or not or not trans folks can entry employment, shelter, and healthcare in the identical ways in which you all have entry. It’s onerous to have fun being celebrated for being myself throughout a time when folks like me are being murdered for being themselves. It was right here on this house that we filmed the scene in Pose in season 1. Stan took his spouse to the Rainbow Room to have fun their anniversary. That evening Stan was distracted by his wishes for Angel, a trans girl. Stan at all times had wishes for girls, each trans and cis, however lived in shameful concern of what his wishes meant to the world round him, and the way the world round him would deal with him because of this. This yr, 16 recognized girls have been taken from us due to that very same concern. On this present day that I’m celebrated and awarded for being seen, I made a decision to carry them with me. I’m carrying them on my ears as earrings. I’d prefer to thank Ian Bradley, my stylist, and the designer, Aree for making a method for me to carry these girls right here with me tonight. When Ian, my beloved good friend and stylist ready the earrings he was anxious that one other girls could be murdered and that it might be too late to incorporate her. On Labor Day—Monday—a 17-year-old lady named Bailey Reeves was shot to demise in D.C. I’m grieving together with her household. She would make the 17th, and youngest-known black trans feminine murdered this yr by gun violence. As Ian predicted, it was too late to incorporate her within the jewellery created by Aree. So I introduced her on this image body for you all to see. 17-years-old, child lady. Similar to me, these girls dared to exhaust their freedom to exist by being seen. Nevertheless, as an alternative of being celebrated they’re punished for it. Whereas we make up 0.6 p.c of the American inhabitants, the life expectancy of trans girls and femmes is 35 years previous. Which means merely that I could not dwell previous 35 just because I’m black and trans. Existence that requires bravery just isn’t freedom. A life that requires bravery just isn’t free. I settle for this award in honor of the reality that one of the best award, and the award all of us deserve, is to have the ability to get dwelling secure. I settle for this award in good religion that my recognition doesn’t result in the erasure of different trans and GNC people who additionally deserve healthcare, housing, security, and visibility. Journal covers, runways, main movie and TV roles. Doctorate levels, highschool diplomas, school educations. And households, lovers, and illustration all over the place and each house. Every one among us, and everybody that we all know, our households, associates. Trans folks deserve security, acknowledgement, and respect. Not simply after we’re on the duvet of magazines, however after we are within the streets, after we are poor, after we are intercourse employees. When our hair ‘aint laid. Once we can’t afford Louis Vuitton. Or after we can’t get entry to a hormone shot. And particularly after we are dying. I’d prefer to conclude my speech by affirming that help like this goes a good distance in defining a way forward for people who find themselves queer and trans, and the standard of life for us, particularly after we’re youngsters. About six years in the past Girl Gaga made a really beneficiant donation to the foster care company I lived in. I used to be residing in a gaggle dwelling simply earlier than Ryan Murphy and Steven Canals modified my life by together with me in Pose. A threat, most would take into account me as. Thanks a lot Girl Gaga. Girl Gaga straight influenced the standard of life for myself and my friends after we have been residing in group houses. Once we had no households. And you already know, establishments aren’t good. It’s very onerous to interchange the households that so many people are privileged to be born with, with group houses and foster care. So I’m so grateful for the affect that Girl Gaga had. She’s an unimaginable instance which you could make an affect on folks’s lives, particularly once they make up .6 p.c of a whole inhabitants. Particularly when our lives are on the mercy of political views. Thanks to Lisa Calli, my tremendous supervisor. My second mother. She launched me to the audition for Pose. And Josh Otten, who believed in me since day one. He launched me to the style phrase when nobody else believed in me. I believed that I used to be too dangerous or not prepared. And he’s by no means left my aspect since. Thanks for being my good friend, Josh. And the individuals who would change my life without end: Alexa Fogle, the legendary casting director. I’m certain you’ve heard of her. Ryan Murphy, Steven Canals, Brad Fulchuk, Janet Mock, Brad Simpson, Nina Jacobson… the complete FX household, and all those that are liable for altering my life, and thru me the lives of my neighborhood. Thanks Nina Garcia. Thanks Zoey Grossman. Oh my god, you made me really feel so lovely and cozy that day of the shoot, and it mirrored within the picture. Steven Gan, thanks a lot for being an instrumental a part of my inclusion in one of the highly effective areas within the trend neighborhood on the planet. Thanks for the speech. Your phrases have been so lovely. Jada Yuan, thanks for write up, and cultivating such a wonderful piece on my life within the story. I by no means thought I’d see so many individuals tagging me in photos and pictures on Instagram of the journal that they purchased. Thanks a lot for that unimaginable Elle get together. It was actually enjoyable, and I bought to shake a complete lot of ass. You already know I’m from the Bronx! It’s my tradition. Excuse my language. Thanks, Louis Vuitton, for supporting and sponsoring that occasion. Nicolas, I really like you. Yet one more factor, thanks, mami and papi, for dedicating your lives to elevating your youngsters the easiest way that you possibly can. Thanks for being an unimaginable instance to oldsters all over the place that it’s attainable to study and modify your parenting in one of the best pursuits of your baby’s existence. Thanks for being an instance that loving your youngsters unconditionally is key in therapeutic, and might tremendously decide the life high quality of a kid and their future. As a baby, to expertise that is the best security a human can know. I really like you without end. You can not elevate your youngsters to have a sexuality or to be a sure sort of gender id. However you may elevate them to like and respect themselves and others. Although I’ve little management over the visibility that awards imply, this Elle cowl means to me and my neighborhood that we should be beloved. That we should be seen, lovely, secure, and guarded. That we should be included, and that we should really feel and expertise belonging, simply as you all achieve this recurrently. That we don’t should dwell in concern. Simply to purchase groceries on the retailer in our personal communities. For me there’s little honor in being the primary, however there’s solely honor in not being the final. Thanks Elle. And I hope that highly effective companies like IMG, William Morris, and CAA, simply as just a few examples, proceed to uplift marginalized folks. And that to see that this worth is bigger than competitors. Thanks a lot for listening to my speech. http://feeds.guess.com/~r/AllBetcom/~3/p5r6E1QcoFs/indya-moore_s-red-carpet-outfit-honored-black-trans-women-who-ha.html The post Indya Moore’s Purple Carpet Outfit Honored Black Trans Ladies appeared first on Kartia Velino. https://kartiavelino.com/indya-moores-red-carpet-outfit-honored-black-trans-women/