#*dennis voice* you EARNED it!!!

[pretenddaddy]

sorry but if my gay twin & his two broke friends put their pathetic little heads together & somehow produced a Cunt Of The Year trophy out of naught but spite & a dream, i would treasure it forever. thats just me though

[iiiiiiis-things]

"Yeah, that nigga dick a bitch down"

pairing: duke dennis x femblack!reader

cw: cursing, smut, dick eating, backshots, annoying references that i found funny but you should ignore them bc i'm jus a huge goof ball

blurb: seeing duke ride the mechanical bull at the rodeo made you incredibly horny.

a/n: y'all i took way to long to make this just for it to come out ass 😛

"fuck" Duke lets out a loud groan, throwing his head back his gaming chair, as his mushroom tip hit the back of your throat. you were struggling, the slight curve that you loved oh so much (and that he fucked you so good with) wasn't making it easier, and although your lips rested prettily a little over halfway around his cock, you wanted to take all of him as your vision becoming blurry you slightly suck to ease the pain- earning another groan from the man above, you wanted to literally swallow him whole. he had you waiting too long for this.

------

you had been trying to give him hints all night, from giving slight brushes against his thigh, to full on grinding your ass against what you wanted most- and through all of it he barely even spared you a single glance. it might be pathetic but you were desperate.

ever since you seen him on that damn bull.

the way he skillfully held the strap in his left hand instantly flooded your brain with memories of the many, many times when he would yank your freshly done knotless braids while giving back shots and how you could barley walk for 3 days. You watched as the bull lifted up which caused Duke to grind ever so lightly on top of it and when it lifted him back down his hips rolled again, this action made you clench your thighs together behind the camera, your hole clenching as heat pooled in your pretty pink lace panties

Duke didn't stay on long, getting thrown off quicker than anyone had expected. When he did fall off, he jogged back over to you and Davo grabbing the camera so one of us could go on. after declining to ride the mechanical machine Davo makes his way over to it. Duke leans over your way coming to almost ear level with you his voice lowering "did you like that?" your cheeks began heating, after silently thanking god for being black, you turn your head just to find him staring at you. The two of you make intense eye contact which causes your breathing to hitch.

for a slight moment it only felt like you and him like everything else had faded into nothing.

your eyes switches between his and his lips before finally leaning in and just as you were about to place your lips on his he lifts his head away from you, smiling showing you the shiny grills that matches with his earrings. you furrow your eyebrows is there something you did wrong? Duke turns his head in front of him and as your eyes follow his gaze you see Davo running back over to us

the entire time you were at the fair you were trying your best to make it look like you didn't want to straight pounce on him. Duke had known what you wanted but he utterly underestimated how bad you wanted it. the he realization kicked in when the 3 of you had stopped to take a bathroom break miraculously he had came out before Davo which gave you two just a tiny amount of alone time.

"We gon hit up a couple more games and then we'll l- baby?" he watched as your head lifted to meet his eyes "yes?" This is when he finally gets a good look at you, your edges had begun to sweat out and your hair was frizzy but the actual lace of your green and black wig was oddly perfectly fine makeup slightly starting to wear off "you that horny?" his eyebrows scrunch in confusion, did seeing him ride a mechanical bull really turn you on that bad?

He seen that his comment had you taken aback by the way your eyes grow wide and your breathing accelerated but before you could answer anything Davo came back....again

when the two of you made it safely back home you made sure to tell kai to not bother you tonight and (and that you were sorry for what he was about to hear) Duke walked in first bee lining straight to his gaming chair. you walked in, locking the door, and what you found waiting behind you was honestly a sight for sore eyes. your turned around to see your boyfriend, man spreading and eyes low and red from tiredness you silently watch as he scoots his pelvis forward legs spreading even wider.

------

"Unh, unh, shitttt" he groans once again, he was close, you could tell by the way his hand was reaching down to your wig. he grabbed a fistfull before using his strength to bob your head up and around his length, producing lewd sounds as you bring your hand up to his thigh as his pace gets faster "baby i'm- fuck. i'm almost there" this only causes you to moan which sends vibrations along his tip as he pull you up only to slam you back down, tears began to trickle down to your cheeks, and soon you felt his grip loosen.

you went down on him once more before opening your mouth, you stick out your toungue, licking his heavy balls, immediately you feel Duke shoot his seed down your throat. slowly easing your mouth off him you raise your head and look him in the eye as you slowly swallow, bringing your thumb up to your mouth catching anything that dare to spill out, and push your thumb back inside your mouth.

----

you're ass up face down Duke is behind you teasing your entrance his rough fingers tips having a firm hold on your hips. "mmnh- please fuck me" you let out a small moan as his tip slowly works its way in only to pull out in the matter of seconds, this man knew what he was doing and you were starting to get sexually frustrated.

Duke leans down deepening your arch to whisper in your ear "i was gonna make you wait a little longer... but since you asked so nicely" out of nowhere he starts to absolutely annihilate your pussy. Roughly pulling your hips to meet his as you grip the sheets below you grunts spilling form his mouth and moans coming form yours his pace was fast, but as good as this felt you wanted him to fuck you differently this time. "fuck- babe stop." you reach your hand behind you to place it on top of his. Duke starts to slow down "what's wrong?" his forehead wrinkles with concern and frustration.

but all of that soon washes away when he hears the next sentence that comes out your filthy mouth "fuck me how you was doing that bull" a smile creeps up on to his face "oh so that's what this about?" his 1937 laugh booms in your ear. laughing? he's laughing? after all that torture he's put you through and he's laughing? see this is why you shouldn't of said shit. cause now he's making fun of you. as a matter of fact you should just leave his ass by himself to finish own his own. you had a pink dildo in your dresser that you could-

"mhhhhh shitt" a loud pornographic moan escapes your mouth Duke shoves his whole dick inside you only to grind lightly just like he was doing that fucking bull except you actually felt it. his right hand crosses over to caress your hip bone his left hand moves up to your head and starts to vandalize your curls your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, hands are tangled into the sheets, and your arch deepens once more

"that's it? that's the spot huh?" he lifts your head up as he leans down to make eye contact with you. "right- shit here?"

you moan out loudly it just felt so good. you weren't even able to form a proper sentence Duke had known he found it by the way you clenched around him at the end of each thrust. you could feel the curve abuse your cervix. this. this was different you could feel him, feel every vein, feel how hard he was, and the softness of his skin and he picks up the pace continuously rolling the curve against that sensitive spot inside you, duke groaned everyone your hips met his.

your pussy was sucking him in further into you, Duke kept going harder and harder ramming his length balls deep into you, all while rolling his hips up into that spongy spot inside of you. listening to all of the clapping and moans helped a tight knot form in your stomach.

"fuck just like that mama" his eyebrows crease, you just were so tight squeezing the hell out of him as his balls slap against your clit. Duke was just about ready to bust when you start to bounce your ass back on him. he loved this part of backshots, whenever you start to fuck back onto him it made him feel so good. he grew harder at the fact that you could take all of him. especially in this position.

he surprisingly moans when he looks down to see your pussy creating a white ring around the base of his cock "s-shit" he somehow goes even faster mercilessly abusing your cervix you were almost there and he was too you felt his thrust get sloppy, his grunts and moans increasing.

he the hand in your hair moves down to rub tight but slow circles around your clit bringing you the sweet release you've been waiting so long for. "fuckfuckfuck- fuckkk" you threw your head back in ecstasy squeezing him so tight that he legit couldn't move. you hear him let out one last groan as you go limp and milk him dry.

after staying in the same position for a while he finally pulls out collapsing next to you. grabbing the comforter you pull it over your body's resting your head on his chest as his arm comes to wrap around you.

"kai is gonna kill me"

[ihaznoclue]

billy x hollow raider reader? like maybe he gets badly injured while in a hollow and reader, despite being a bandit, helps him out because they can't help but feel bad for the poor guy.

Parings -> Billy Kid x Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> Billy gets hurt and Reader starts to feel bad | Also Anby and Nicole won't be in this type of scene, lets just say Billy got separated from them instead

Genre -> Fluff

Billy Kid

You were a hollow raider to earn money, going into hollows as missions is part of your job.

You worked alone, that's how you liked it, working alone, no-one to keep you behind from all your work.

Right now you were assigned to go into a hollow and find this box that had very important stuff in it, they called it the strong box. It belong in the Red Fang Gang so they wanted you to try and steal it.

But it was in the hollow, they would give 2,000 Dennies if you would retrieve the strong box so you accepted the request of the random person.

Now you were in the hollow, tracking down the strong box that you were required to steal from the leader of the Red Fang Gang.

But currently there were Ethereals you had to fought in order to get to the strong box.

After fighting with these horrible creature you heard gunshots near by, was there other people in here trying to survive? Why were there gunshots all of a sudden?

So you decided to check it out

There you saw was a tall looking android with white fluffy hair, wearing a leather red jacket, now who was he?

You noticed something about him as he face was slightly cracked as his face or eyes started to glitch out a lot

You could hear him, yelling out for someone

"NICHOLE, ANBY WHERE ARE YOU GUYS, I NEED HELP!" He shouted, his voiced glitched a little

You thought about saving him but you needed to find the strong box, no I shouldn't waste my time on a random guy

But it looks like he really needs help

"Ugh, fuck it" You spoke as you ran up to the scene, kicking a ethereal on the head, making it groan as it hit the ground

"huh? What-"

"Follow me" You then grabbed the random dudes robot arm, damn he was tall

You were now hiding in a spot, "What's your name kid?" You asked

"B-Bill-Billy" He glitched out again

You smacked your lips as you tried to figure a way out of the hollow to help him but you heard other voices

"Billy! Where did you go!?" A feminism voice called out

"N-nichole?" Billy glitched out as it sounded like a whisper, so he knows these people, maybe they could help

"Come on" You spoke as you helped him up

Looks like you'll have to explain some stuff to his friends

But you thought to yourself

'He's is quite cute'

-A<3

[fictionalmenxyn]

¡𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮!

Pt.3

Pairing: Rafe x reader

Warnings: language

-❂❂❂-

It was finally the weekend, the weather was nice, as usual. Wearing your blue and white cami tee and your army green cargo pants. You pulled in your boots. Grabbing your keys, you pulled your tote bag over you shoulder. Heading out the door and to your car.

You headed over the record store, your place. A place kids in your grade don’t go, cause girls your age ‘don’t listen to that old stuff’.

You walked in. Smiling at the cashier, who’ve you friended due to the amount of time you spent there. You flicked through the record vinyls, you asked “hey Denny? Have you finally got that Cranberries album??” He nodded “yeah, it’s behind the counter, saved it for ya.” You smiled and thanked him.

Rafe was told by Topper, that you liked going to this record store. So he decided to see if you were there. He was in the ‘town’ (the store filled streets of outer banks) anyways. So he’d swing by, see if you were there.

You walked into the instrument sections. You walked over to the dark red and white pearl fender. The six string guitar, hooked up onto the wall of the store. Your fingers brush what could be yours. If it wasn’t for stupid money. Don’t get me wrong, you had money. Well your dad… but you wanted to save and get it yourself. Your money, independent money. That’s why you worked at the country club. Behind the bar. Your dad’s friend allowed you to have the job since he was low staffed and knew you wanted to earn your own cash.

You smiled at the guitar, Rafe noted. You turn the price tag over to look at the price. Shit, it hasn’t gone on sale. You sighed quietly. You walked back over to the record section.

Rafe used that as his cue to enter. He entered the store, the small bell above the door rang. You didn’t look over your shoulder, why be nosy?

You continued to flick through the records. You heard a voice to the side of you “come here often?”

You look to Rafe then back to the records in front of you “I do, what’s it to you?” He grinned “was looking for the Tidal album, you know? By Fiona Apple?” You scoffed “you? Listen to her?” You keep flicking through the records.

He leaned against the boxes “what’s it to you, huh? Can’t a guy listen to her? She’s good…” “what’s your favourite song of that album?” “Shadowboxer…” “hm…” you playfully roll your eyes. You weren’t buying this shit. “What’re you really here for, Cameron?” He chuckled “the album, sweetheart” “oh yeah? Who for? A girl? Hook up?” He playfully scoffed. You pick up a record and gently shove it to his chest.

He looked down at the album that’s now in his hands. The Tidal album in his grasp. Damn. She actually knew her stuff. Of course she did you idiot.

As she headed over to the cash register, he quickly followed. “So I saw you eyeing that red fender, back there…” you look up at him “oh so you’re stalking me now?” He chuckled “no, unless you’re into that??” You roll your eyes at his tease.

You handed Denny ten bucks, Denny raised an eyebrow. Who was this guy talking to her? And how is she still talking to him? She’s never like this…

Denny placed the ‘everybody else is doing it, so why can’t we?’ Album on the counter. You slipped it into your tote bag. Rafe asked “is that The Cranberries??” You nodded and headed outside the store. He followed, you spun on your heel and looked up at him. “Are you gonna keep following me?” He laughed “nah, just saw you and thought I’d say hey…”

“Hey. Bye”

“Woah, not so fast, can’t I have a conversation with you?”

You opened the drivers door and put your tote bag in the passenger. You look at him “what’d you want to say anyways??” He leaned against your car “you hear about Fred’s party?” You raised an eyebrow “you mean the snobby gang and their snobby cult leader, Fred??” He smirked “yeah, them” you raised an eyebrow “they’re through a party?? Seriously?” He nodded. “What about this party?” You crossed your arms and lean your hip into the side of the car. He looked down at you “wanna go?”. You chuckled “really? You’re asking me? And not some stupid bimbo girl from our grade??”

He nodded “that’s right, wanna go?” You shrug “I’m not much of a party-goer…” “aww c’mon-” he playfully nudged you “-it’ll be fun…” you shrug again “we’ll see…”

You get into your car. He replied “see you at nine thirty, sweetheart.” You squint your eyes, nodding and giving a fake smile. Rafe walked off. You reverse and head back home.

-❂❂❂-

Sitting in your room for a couple hours, you felt thirsty. Heading downstairs and into the kitchen. You grabbed a glass, putting it under the fridge water dispenser. You press the button and fill it with water.

Your father entered the kitchen, putting the newspaper on the island counter. Taking a seat in the stool. You see your sister and her friend try and sneak down the stairs. Then her friend knock over a pair of shoes on the shoe rack.

You chuckle, your dad looked over. “And where are you two going, especially dressed like that?”

Gab replied “uhh there’s this party… it’s only a few people.” Your dad looks to you “is that true, you hear about this party?” You nod. Sipping your water, then placing the glass in the counter. “You mean the boy filled, drug overload and beer chugging party?? Yeah I heard of it.” Gab glared at you. Your dad looked to Gab and her friend “is that so?” Gab answered “no! I mean.. yeah, but she’s being over dramatic, daddy!”

After your sister and dad go back and forth. Gab walked up to you, holding your arms in her hands. She begged “please, if daddy says if you go, I can go, can you pleaseee go?” You shook your head “no chance, I’d rather stay intoxicated free, thank you very much.” Gab rolled her eyes “can you just be normal for once?! God! Please! I wanna live a little and you’re being selfish!”

That kinda set you back, you knew what parties were like. She didn’t. You thought for a moment, a few nags later you sigh.

“Fine I’ll go..” you walk over to the front door. Grabbing your boots. Pulling them in along with your leather jacket. Your dad gives your sister the run down of rules. You open the door seeing Rafe there. His famous smirk slapped on his face. “Hey sweetheart, you ready?” You asked “what’re you doing here?”

He looked at his phone “it’s almost nine thirty…” you roll your eyes “yeah, whatever.” You step out the house. Rafe saw your dad put a fake baby belly on your sister. Rafe joked “who knocked up your sister?” You tug on Rafe’s arm. “It’s my dad’s tactic for not getting my sister into any ‘teenage trouble’ c’mon. Let’s go before he does the same to me.”

Rafe laughed, damn. This was gonna be fun.

-❂❂❂-

[lighthouseshepard]

dollins prompt here goes.

so i've always imagined that noel wouldn't want to be called charlie because that's who he was before (gestures vaguely) all the shit went down. could you write him + collins talking about that??? prefereably in a gay manner???

if you do i'll send you more doodles 🤭🤭🤭

HI HELLO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SOME TIME this is the first dollins thing ive written so. hopefully you enjoy it (: (not sure if it fits the bounds of the prompt exactly but!! its where my brain went!!)

"So," Dennis says with an anticipatory lilt to his tone that Noel inmediately doesn't care for in the slightest. "Charlie, huh?"

The name is said so casually, Noel almost doesn't process it. He glances sharply up from where his gaze had been fixated absently at a point beyond the other's left shoulder, attention lost somewhere in the smooth curve of the bathroom sink's porcelain.

"What?" he stutters out, "did you just call me?"

Dennis doesn't even flinch. He pauses in his meticulous work, the razor held inches away from Noel's stubble-covered jaw.

"Charlie?" he says again. "That is your name, isn't it, sweetheart?"

Noel's voice smooths out into a tone he hopes is calm, ignoring the way his fist curls up into a tight ball against his leg. Years had passed since he last heard those two syllables uttered in his presence. Encountering them here of all places was jarring to say the least. "Where did you hear that from?"

Dennis shrugs. "Little birdy told me."

"Collins."

"Ah, come on now," Dennis protests, grinning. "We aren't on a first name basis, detective? I woulda thought givin' you a nice shave so late at night would earn me something."

"Charlie is not my first name," he grinds out through half gritted teeth. "And you offered to do this, if you'll remember."

Dennis pauses to step back, flipping on the sink long enough to rinse the razor clean for another go. "Well, I felt bad," he admits, turning back to face Noel with a wink. "Considering you kinda can't and all."

"Who's fault would that be?" Noel huffs.

"I didn't ask ya to smuggle me out of the station," Dennis remarks. "You did that on your own."

"You shouldn't have come up to see me mid-day! I signed those release papers, yes, but it doesn't absolve you from everything you did after."

"I missed you, alright? Jesus, lad, let an old man be sentimental for once."

He takes a step closer, eyes flicking down to Noel's bandaged hand resting in his lap. From where he's perched on the edge of the bathtub, there's a tinge of guilt visible in Dennis's quiet expression Noel doesn't know what to make of. He feels it as a barbed flutter somewhere along his chest, twisting pleasurably in and out of the bones of his ribs. Dennis reaches down with the hand not currently holding the razor, but Noel shifts imperceptibly away from him.

"At least let me have a proper look at it," Dennis pleads.

"No."

"Come on, Charlie, like I said. I feel bad. I don't even know how ya managed to break it on the way out."

"Yeah, well I don't know either," mutters Noel, ignoring the name again. "Maybe somewhere along trying to shove you out the fire escape?"

Another shrug. "Maybe. I, uh... look, I won't come visit anymore if you don't want me to, you know. Didn't mean ta get you all in a twist."

Noel sighs heavily, a smile he wants to regret but finds himself fully incapable of curving the corners of his mouth. "Now I didn't say that exactly, did I?"

Dennis hums, a few notes of a song Noel had come to know well by now just from being in the other's company. The tune did not so much as haunt the Butcher as it accompanied him through every waking moment like a dog at his heels, often whining, usually content to leave him be so long as he fed it scraps of acknowledgement every once in a while. Not for the first time Noel wondered in objective fascination what went on behind those blue eyes, what kind of subtle symphony played out while his hands twisted around a spool of bloody piano wire. Or, more pressing, what he may have been thinking while he held a razor delicately to Noel's throat.

"I could have done this myself," he protests not for the first time without much merit. "Doesn't take two hands to shave."

Dennis merely smiles again, not deigning to give him an answer. The blade scrapes against day old stubble effortlessly, sharp enough to cut if he moved without warning.

"You sure are puttin' a lot of trust in me here," Dennis reminds him, "holdin this blade to you, Charlie."

"Oh would you - ow!"

He winces, reaching up to dab at the tiny bead of blood on his neck as the razor slips. Dennis frowns.

"See? That's what I mean. A lot of trust. You gotta keep still, lad. We can't have this pretty face of yours all bloodied up, now can we?”

Noel watches him raise a soft towel snagged off the countertop to the side of his neck, dabbing at the spot he nicked. Curious, how hands more familiar with the cold unforgiving angles of a gun or the resolute handle of a knife could touch him so gently. 

"Alright, out with it," Noel sighs. "Where did you hear that name, Dennis?"

"Like I said-"

"No, don't bullshit me. We're both too smart and too old for that. Just tell me."

"I, uh..." he trails off. "I looked inta ya."

"The criminal looking into the detective?" he scoffs, shifting on the edge of the tub, unable to keep from leaning into Dennis's touch even if he wanted to. "The irony is unparalleled."

"Had to know who was chasin' me, didn't I? It was a long while ago, back before I knew you.”

“You don't know me,” Noel mutters, his deflection falling short of convincing.

The towel lifts from his face with an accompanying chuckle so soft it seems to float, filling the single foot of space left between them. Fingers trail down the edge of his jaw that had already been shaved clean, dipping lower to trace the scar along the side of his neck. 

“Aye, I know you, alright,” Dennis says quietly. “Just like you know me, detective. We're opposite sides of the same coin. You could look in a mirror and see me as easily as you'd see yourself.”

“Dennis,” he starts helplessly, but he's interrupted before he has an opportunity to continue searching about maddeningly for the right word.

“Besides, do you really need to hear where I got that name from? Would it change anything? We might be the only two alive to know who it belongs to.”

“Yes,” Noel says pointedly. “I do, goddammit.” 

“Hmm,” Dennis mumbles. “Maybe if you keep perfectly still while I fix up the other side of you here, I'll tell ya.” 

His hand falls back to his side. Noel feels the scrape of the razor once more, drawing a path down by his temple. He isn't certain necessarily if trust was what allowed him to hold himself in this fragile position, or if a bizarre fascination was responsible. Perhaps he was growing soft as the years went by, he thinks. Perhaps he was simply too stupid by his own choosing to fully comprehend what he had fallen into. 

“Charlie’s dead,” Noel murmurs, lifting his chin so Dennis could get a better angle. “I killed him two and a half years ago.”

“I killed a lot of people and their ghosts still stick around,” Dennis says contemplatively. “Addin’ their notes to the music. Charlie’s a nice name. You get real pink every time I say it.”

“Is that a confession?” Noel drawls. “I could have you arrested for that, you know.”

“You could, sure. You could lend me a kiss for all my hard work here keepin’ you presentable, too.”

“You’re awfully demanding for someone I should rightfully have in handcuffs, you know that?” Noel mutters, but as gray eyes find blue, he lets the shift in an atmosphere suddenly charged through with subtle electricity wash willfully over him. 

Dennis grins, the razor halted, his lips an inch away. “Don't make promises you can't keep."

[inkbyajm]

of forgotten people

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tropes: fluff, hurt/comfort, age-gap

word count: ~860

author’s note: this is a short excerpt (maybe the first chapter?) of a story i’ve been thinking about for the past few weeks. this is just to establish the vibe of something that will probably turn into a series. i hope you enjoy a little melancholy.

————-　❈　————-                                         

“Joel.”

Tommy’s voice resonated in his brother’s ears. The eldest Miller was lost in his thoughts for what seemed like the 5th time in the past half-hour that they’ve been in the Tipsy Bison. He only responded by blankly looking up from his spot around the table.

“You alright, big brother? Wanna share what’s on your mind?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just,” Joel paused, hesitating whether or not he should be sharing his doubts. I mean, what a fucking coincidence would that be.

“I was walking around town today and... Jesus, I’m gonna sound like I’m going insane, which I probably am, but,” he let out another breath “I saw this person, this woman, standing in front of the barn and... it looked a lot like someone I knew back then. Before the outbreak, I mean.”

“Shit, didn’t think your memory was that good, old man.” Tommy joked, taking another sip of his pint.

That was the problem. His life 20 years ago and the one he was currently living felt like two different realities, he could have been mixing up his recollections. He wasn’t even sure he remembered her all that well, despite everything they’ve been through in a relatively short amount of time.

What he did know is that she was the type of person a kid would look up to: kind, passionate, crafty, incredibly smart and with a strange sense of humour. And while she was mature, she was also naïve, and indecisive, and petty, and emotional at times. But he remembered ardent feelings, feelings she displayed openly, without fear. The same couldn’t be said about him.

“Yeah, looks like all those hits to the head are finally taking effect.” he mumbled into his own drink, earning a chuckle from his brother.

“Listen, as long as you’re making sense, I ain’t complaining.”

                              ————-　❈　————-                                         

The two sat around for another hour, chatting to a few people that stopped by their table for a quick hello. Tommy was mostly doing the conversing as Joel still found it a bit hard to adjust to a life in a functioning community. While the former was busy talking about supplies for the new playground with Dennis (Danny? Dean?), Joel felt like he needed another pint and headed to the bar.

It was Friday night, which meant the Tipsy Bison was busier than usual, with everyone celebrating the end of the week. It took a lot of convincing from Tommy to get his older brother to go out for drinks. He rarely ever agreed, usually preferring to stick to the bottle of whiskey he was gifted when him and Ellie first arrived. Nevertheless, Joel felt like he was finally starting to recognise some of the faces around town, which for him was a small accomplishment.

Making it to the bar, he patiently waited for one of what appeared to be three bartenders to serve him. The conversations all around him were all blending together as a soft rock tune played in the background for more ambiance. But it didn’t stop him from singling out a particular voice, a laugh, among dozens. It sounded more mature than the one etched into the far back of his mind.

He looked up from his spot at the far end of the counter, searching for the source of the anxiety growing in his chest. It’s been twenty years. It cannot be her. You are working yourself up for nothing.

And yet he strained his neck to get a better view, and there she was. Her appearance had changed slightly, she looked more rugged, more...experienced. But it was her, or at least the older version of her. You’re losing your damn mind, Joel, snap out of it.

As if she were reading his thoughts, the woman turned her head and the two made eye contact. Her smile wasn’t the only thing that had dropped as the glass she was originally drying found itself in pieces on the ground. 

Joel’s ears began to ring and he found himself backing away from the counter, bumping into a few displeased townsfolk as his feet clumsily carried him out of the pub. He didn’t even realise how suffocated he felt inside until he took a big breath of the fresh evening air, leaning against a utility pole for support, not trusting his knees to hold him up. His thoughts were racing a million miles an hour, his heart was just about 10 pumps away from officially stopping.

“Mr. Miller?”

Her voice, faint and quavery, came from behind him. It ain’t her, you are seeing ghosts. Go home. It took everything in him not to run away, to get hold of himself and his emotions as the world felt like it was crumbling down on him. Finally, after what felt like hours, he braced himself and hesitantly turned around to face his past.

It was just the two of them stood outside in the dimly-lit streets of Jackson. The only sound that filled the heavy silence were the muffled noises coming from the wooden walls of the Bison. Her eyes, those pleading eyes, glistened ever so slightly with tears.

“Joel.”

————-　❈　————-

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

[beardedmrbean]

Zoomer Huey, I tend to see people saying why Gen z don’t have sex much.

Holy

Fucking

Shits

These journalists surprisedly have WORSE self awareness than there boomer relatives

Here a hint https://x.com/swannmarcus89/status/1762582001507323991?s=46

And gender dynamics are…nuked in the fields they are surveying. Women and girls are told that all men are predators and misandry is left unchecked

Also, why Hollywood act surprised about the sex abuse?

We all heard about the casting coach, and how suspiciously people from working class backgrounds like Micheal Jackson (yes his dad had his music connections. But essentially mj was a slave and was arguably was the first black child star unless I’m missing someone) and Walt Disney (though not as bad) are painted as monsters while the actual monsters are protected for decades

I mean look at Judy Garland, she was a sweet person and she did help the LBGT in Hollywood and supported the civil rights movement

But her “crazy” behavior makes more sense because she was sexually abused at a extremely young age

And she not the only one, Shirley Temple, the boy who played at the first LA Dennis the Manis

Oh and the Peter Pan actor (a lot of people leave out the part where ALL of Hollywood basically says he can choke and die because he was “too” Disney)

But sorry about the Gen stuff, but the false rape accusations, maybe if you guys didn’t view men (especially white ones) the same way Nazis viewed the Jews while saying all the working class men were Weinstein.

My Gen would have more sex

Entertainment industry has been like that since the beginning of forever, probably less so when women weren't allowed to participate but still a thing I'm sure.

As for Judy Garland it was nice to see people come out swinging in her defense when someone tried to start shit over well

She was not in control of her carer, saying no was not an option for her with this, but dumbasses that can only think in terms of today's standards never think about that.

Jay North (Dennis the Menace) did ok, so did Shirley Temple, plenty of others not so much, more recently we can look at Drew Barrymore and RDJ who both had fairly public meltdowns and problems.

Drew was ruined since her first film was ET and Spielberg takes care of the kids on set, going beyond the legal requirements.

Bobby Driscol was the Peter Pan VA top of his Wiki article.

Robert "Bobby" Cletus Driscoll (March 3, 1937 – c. March 30, 1968) was an American actor who performed on film and television from 1943 to 1960. He starred in some of the Walt Disney Studios' best-known live-action pictures of that period: Song of the South (1946), So Dear to My Heart (1949), and Treasure Island (1950), as well as RKO's The Window (1949). He served as the animation model and provided the voice for the title role in Peter Pan (1953). He received an Academy Juvenile Award for outstanding performances in So Dear to My Heart and The Window.

He just fell into the child actor pit, where he wasn't "cute" anymore couldn't get gigs and couldn't adjust to not being in the spotlight, the way he went and nobody knowing is awful to think about still.

Jackie Coogan, on the other hand was a different story.

His parents sucked and as a result there's a series of laws named after him California's Coogan Law all about protecting the earnings of child actors from their parents. % goes into a trust iirc.

He ended up OK in the end though

The false accusation thing, #me too hurt women because #believe women was taken advantage of to such a degree that even this coming out to light

has still probably not cleared up for the trooper, and men are opting to not mentor women because of not wanting to risk a false accusation, everyone screams about how rare they are, to which I say so what, why should they assume the risk even if it's minor

Former VP Mike Pence came out and said he won't be alone with a woman that's not his wife in order to ensure that there is no possibility of someone making a claim of impropriety.

And he got this response

Why is anyone going to put their neck on the line when something like what he said is going to get this kind of response.

Maybe instead of crying about how rare false accusations are they should focus on shaming the people making them and coming up with solutions to keep them from happening.

You know instead of blaming the victims of the false accusations.

All this and so much more going on that isn't in this ask goes to the I don't blame people for not having as much sex, it's actually kinda nice too, fewer std's this way.

I went on a couple tangents, hope that's ok

[multifandomrandomgirl]

can you do something with Jardine

Al Jardine

Waves of Destruction - Al Jardine x reader

A/N: Thank you for requesting! Apologies for the wait, I had a few personal things on this last week. I hope you enjoy this, though!

Masterlist:

part two:

Wordcount: 987

-----

It was a late summer’s evening, the Californian kind where the sun was sitting low in the sky, casting shadows over the beach. The sound of waves crashing filled the air, mixing with the laughs of children and the chattering of their parents watching them.

Al Jardine stood at the edge of the sand, the water gliding gently over feet as he stood, watching the birds on the horizon. His hands were stuffed into his pockets and his hair kept blowing into his soft blue eyes.

Y/N watched him from a distance, sat on a rock not too far away from him. Y/N’s face was filled with a mix of resentment and longing. The last few weeks had been a rollercoaster of emotions, confusion and heartbreak for them. Y/N’s heart ached for those days back when everything was perfect, back when Al’s laugh lit up their hard days. Now, the gap between the pair grew bigger than the gap between the sea and the shore when the tide was out.

Y/N took a deep breath and they stood up, deciding to go over to where Al was standing. The sand crunched beneath their feet which made him look up and away from the horizon, his eyes were mixed with hope and pain. He looked more vulnerable than Y/N had ever seen him.

“Hey.” Y/N said softly, stopping a few steps away from the blond guitarist.

“Hi.” Al’s voice was shaky, barely above a whisper. Y/N struggled to make it out over the noise of the crashing waves lapping at their feet.

For a few moments, they both stood in silence. The waves were the only sound, as if it was trying to drown out the words that needed to be spoken between the couple.

“Al,” Y/N began, their voice trembling. “We really ought to talk.”

Al sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I know, I just don’t know where to even begin.”

Y/N took a couple of steps closer, they reached out to touch his arm. Al flinched at the skin contact and Y/N quickly moved their hand away from him, his reflection stung at their heart.

“Why can’t you just forgive me?” Al asked, his voice breaking slightly. He turned to face Y/N, eyes pleading.

Y/N looked down at the sand, they were unable to meet his eyes. “It’s not that easy, Al. You hurt me real bad, you broke my trust.” 

“I know I did,” Al replied, his voice full of pain. Oh how he wished he hadn’t gone to that party with Dennis and met that other girl. “And I’m sorry. I’d do anything to take it back, to make things right again. You have to believe me.”

“But you can’t, can you?” Y/N responded, the bitterness in their voice surprised both of them. “You can’t just undo sleeping with another girl in the past. You can’t take it back. You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to return to how it was before this. Before you cheated.”

Al’s face fell and he took a step closer to them, closing the small gap that Y/N had left between the two of them. He reached out, wanting to touch their arm.

“Please,” He whispered, voice full of emotion. “Please give me a chance. Let me prove to you I can be better, that I can change. Please, I want to make things right.”

Y/N took a step back as a wave rolled in, it was almost like the sea was separating them by force before the storm rolled in.

“How can I trust you again?” They asked. “How can I believe you won’t do that again? That you won’t hurt me again?”

Al’s hands dropped back down to his sides, once again finding their way into his pockets in defeat.

“I don’t know,” He whispered. “I don’t have the answers to that, all I know is that I love you, so so much and I will do anything and everything to earn your forgiveness and trust again.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes, they blinked them away rapidly, determined to not look vulnerable right now.

“Love isn’t always enough, Alan.” Y/N’s voice cracked, it was evident that they were crying. “Sometimes, love isn’t enough anymore… when things like this happen.”

The words hung heavily in the sea air between them. Al looked as though he’d been punched. “So that’s it? You’re giving up on us?” He asked, terrified.

Y/N shook their head, their tears streamed down their face freely now.

“I’m not giving up, not yet. I just need time, time to figure out if I can ever trust you again.”

Al nodded, his filled with sadness and a twinge of hope.

“I understand,” He said quietly. “Take all the time that you need. I’ll be waiting for you, you know I will. I’ll always wait for you. If you decide you can trust me, forgive me, I’ll be waiting, I can promise you that.”

Y/N nodded, they were crying too much to respon to him. They turned away and walked back up the beach, alone. The sound of the waves faded as they reached the top of the beach. Y/N felt a sense of loss, like their heart had been torn out by the waves as she walked away from Al. They weren’t sure if they’d ever be able to forgive Al, if the trust between them could ever be rebuilt from the shattered ruins that he’d left them in.

Al stood alone at the edge of the water once more, his eyes met the horizon aain, he couldn’t watch Y/N walk away from him. He knew he’d messed up big time but he couldn’t bear to watch the consequences unfold in front of his own eyes.

Would they ever be able to forgive him?

[eretzyisrael]

by Jack Elbaum

The United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) will be holding a gathering to “pay tribute” to Iran’s late president, Ebrahim Raisi, next Thursday, just days after his death, despite still not formally condemning the Iran-backed terror group Hamas’ massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7.

Raisi died on Sunday along with Iranian Foreign Minister Hossein Amirabdollahian and several other in a helicopter crash in the mountainous region of northwestern Iran.

The now-deceased Iranian president has for decades been accused of major human rights abuses, most notably for his role on a so-called “death committee” that sentenced thousands of political prisoners to death in 1988, when he was deputy prosecutor of Tehran. In that role, Raisi earned the nickname “the butcher of Tehran.”

Raisi, a hardline Islamist, was widely considered a potential successor to Iran’s so-called “supreme leader,” Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, as the highest power in the Iranian regime.

The decision to swiftly honor Raisi stands in stark contrast to the UNGA’s muted reaction to Hamas’ Oct. 7 terrorist attacks in southern Israel — where Hamas-led Palestinian terrorists murdered 1,200 people and kidnapped over 250 others as hostages.

In a letter sent on Tuesday, UNGA president Dennis Francis wrote, “I have the honor to inform you that a plenary meeting of the General Assembly to pay tribute to the memory of the late President of the Islamic Republic of Iran, His Excellency Seyyed Ebrahim Raisi, will be held on Thursday, May 30, 2024 at 10 am, in the General Assembly Hall.”

Francis added that “Member States are encouraged to deliver regional group statements” to help pay tribute to Raisi.

This is not the first act of deference for the late Iranian president. Earlier this week, the UN Security Council stood for a moment of silence in memory of Raisi. Then, the UN flag was also lowered to half-staff.

Outraged at the decision, Israeli Ambassador to the UN Gilad Erdan wrote on X/Twitter that then UN was “founded to prevent atrocities, but today it salutes mass-murdering dictators!”

In contrast, the UNGA did not pass its first resolution in response to the Israel-Hamas war until Oct. 27 — 20 days after Hamas’ initial massacre. It called for an immediate ceasefire and demanded widespread humanitarian aid to the Gaza Strip. The resolution garnered 120 votes in favor, 14 opposed, and 45 abstentions.

However, the UNGA failed to adopt an amendment to the resolution condemning the Oct. 7 attacks.

The UN Security Council has similarly pushed resolutions concerning Israel and Gaza that did not denounce Hamas over the Oct. 7 atrocities.

It also took the UN Women organization until December to condemn the sexual and gender-based violence against girls and women that took place on Oct. 7.

The inability of UN member states to condemn the mass murder of Jews in Israel but quickly mourn the passing of Raisi — the president of a country that Western intelligence agencies have consistently labeled the world’s largest state sponsor of terrorism — has reinforced for many critics the belief that the UN is biased against Israel and sympathetic to authoritarian regimes.

After the UN lowered its flag in honor of Raisi, US Sen. Tim Scott (R-SC) said, “The UN and the Biden administration should honor the victims of the Iranian regime, not the Butcher of Tehran. Tributes to Raisi are a slap in the face to all those who suffered under his reign.”

Anne Bayefsky — director of the Touro Institute on Human Rights and the Holocaust, and president of Human Rights Voices — told Fox News Digital that “one might say this sign of UN respect for mass murderers and terrorist executioners is not a surprise,” because it has consistently refused to condemn Hamas’ Oct. 7 attacks.

[chaitantei-ao3]

16

Dennis halts to a stop in front of Paddy’s. There’s a check-in message flashing on his screen, he swipes it away.

His eyebrows shoot up as he opens the door and sees a large crowd moving to a thumping unrecognizable bass line. All the songs today sounded one and the same. “Dennis!” Frank spits out a piece of hoagie from behind the bar and makes ushering signs.

“What’s happening here Frank? Who are these people?” Dennis looks around, the place is crawling with gyrating bodies on every surface.

“Every drink after the first is free.” Frank slurs and burps. “And-” Frank leans in conspiratorially, “Every first drink is free for the hotties .” Frank winks at a woman standing next to the counter.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve-”

“You saved the company Dennis! I’m in control of the web o’ shells again.”

Dennis stops, wrinkling his nose at Frank’s breath. “Well, that was expected,” he says. “What I don’t get is…you handing away free drinks at the bar.”

“Don’t worry.” Frank strips his shirt and points to the gyrating bodies around him, “It’s on me.” Frank slips and falls.

“And… you’ve vomited on yourself.” Dennis observes as Franks rolls on the ground shouting “I’m a shit baguette, the new and improved version.”

Dennis helps him up, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Seriously. Where are you getting the money from?”

Frank takes out a wad of hundred dollar bills. “I’m funding this thing.”

“Jeez, Frank. That wasn’t funny when you were paying for our school tuition and it’s not funny now. And what does this mean?” Dennis says, “Are we earning this or-”

“You can’t earn shit like this at this bar.” Frank rolls his eyes.

“I don’t want to hear this from the guy who writes his whole business plan on a goddamn paper napkin.”

“You do when the IRS has guys like Snowden and your computer has eyes and ears.”

“…None of that sounds right.” Dennis says, feeling an elbow shove his rib, “Look, I think this is a ridiculous idea Frank. I don’t – goddamn it. Stop pushing me! Yes, yes. Take it all! You know what, I don’t care for you trying to usurp this bar, Frank!”

“This place is bleeding money anyway…” Frank stares at him.

“What are you trying to do?”

“…Derek?”

“It’s Dennis . My very existence should quake-”

“Listen here…Dunbar.” Frank pats his hand, leaning near him. “By the time you reach my age, you’ll see how-” Frank burps and Dennis draws back, “Jesus Christ.”

“You see how hard it gets when- Hey! Josie is that…” Frank squints in the direction of the crowd, waving and jumping. “Hey!” His voice drowns under the bass and he throws up again. Dennis folds his hand on his chest backtracking in disgust, “I would rather die than be your age, Frank.”

Dennis comes to a stop colliding to a soft body, he turns his head and sees a woman juggling a couple of beers in her hands, picking a few more from the counter. Now men of weaker wills like Mac or Charlie or-

“Hey, nice cans!” Frank says, froth dropping from his chin.

Dennis gives him a look. Offering her a gentlemanly hand for help, he gives the woman a tentative smile and a frown at Frank to clearly demonstrate his disgust. She hands him a few bottles and quirks a brow. That’s more like it. Dennis thinks.

Following her to the edge of the counter, Dennis places the drinks next to a raucous group then turns to face her, “Name’s Dennis. You enjoying the place?”

The woman leans back, “Gina. I feel like the owner of this bar’s kind of a schmuck…? I mean. Free drinks without conditions. Who does that?”

“The schmuck here is at your service.”

Gina laughs, her nose wrinkling. “Oh my god. I’m sorry but it’s still- well. Are you trying to get bankrupt or something?”

“It’s alright, you see. I don’t really believe in…holding back Gina. And at this bar, Paddy’s Pub.” he rounds the counter and picks up the scotch they kept for their own from below and tilts it toward her glass. “In here, you don’t have to hold back.”

Dennis pours himself a drink and waits for her to pick up hers.

She does, looking at him the whole time, letting him demonstrate his value and image of an owner of a successful bar. Dennis sees her eyes dilate, her hips sway and her knuckle white grip on the counter as she sits down. “I thought they were out of whisky.” She says huskily, downing it in one go.

Dennis reaches for the glass, letting his fingers touch hers on ‘accident’ to engage in the physical. She laughs, taking a slow sip of her drink and lets her hands linger.

“You see-” Dennis blinks, looking hard at the woman. What was her goddamn name again? Something with a G or was it an H… Dennis shakes his head, that’s okay. It’s just how failsafe his system is that if he carried it on, he was a few steps away from pulling it off. Her face blurs on the edges, Dennis stares at his scotch, feeling a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach.

In his mind’s eye he can already see brown hair splayed on his pillow and hear moans of God, Dennis , God . The jukebox lights up behind what’s-her-name and the music fades to a slow one and then it’s Mac’s voice in his head saying God, Dennis. God saved Paddy’s , his face electric, a silly grin swooping the sides of his mouth and eyes focused beyond him, like it wasn’t Dennis standing in front of him, in all his magnificence.

Blood rushes to his face and Dennis puts down the drink and lifts five fingers in front of her. “Five days.” He closes and opens his hand, “In the next five days you will have sex with me and it’ll change you. You’ll fall hopelessly in love with me but on the day after I’ll leave you and my memories will haunt you for the rest of your life. It’ll happen, I know that. Now you know that too.” Dennis watches her mouth fall open, very unattractively. And Dennis thinks, closing his eyes, why did I ever go for her again?

“And now that I’ve strayed from the system you’re going to walk away.” Dennis waves a hand, his eyes still closed. “Go on, be my guest.”

He feels splashes of whisky drip down his nose, “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Dennis watches her stumble across the bar towards the pool table, she glances behind in what she thinks is subtle but ends up being so goddamn obvious. In fact, it’s so predictable that Dennis wants to wring out his hair. He knows if he tries everything in the right order once more, perhaps chat her up outside the bar as she waits for the taxi, all smiles; he’ll have her eating out of his hand in no time.

The burden of success due to his infallible system, Dennis thinks. Oh, the curse of having figured everything out so early in the game that there isn’t even one to play anymore. Dennis sighs.

Staring at the spot where his glass was kept, Dennis sees multiple rings of condensation overlapping in an abstract pattern till they coincide into one. Dennis didn’t come up with the system in an instant of course, believe it or not there were once times when he didn’t know what was coming.

For instance, he still remembered when a girl sitting across from him in class on the second day of college hesitated . That’s right… made up an excuse why she couldn’t give him her phone number. A boyfriend, yeah right. It had taken time for him to build up this system.

Dennis throws back the remainder of whisky and feels it burn down his throat. Stepping over Frank he keeps his glass in the washing sink and does a few calf raises. There are a few boiled eggs next to green paint kept on the side. Dennis ignores them, placing a hand on his stomach. “Hey!” Frank grumbles as he rinses his glass, “Frank! Lift your ass off the floor, man.”

Frank mumbles and gets up, sweat breaking out all over his back, his shirt lifts and Dennis notes with mild disgust stretch marks covering his hips. Then again it’s a reminder Dennis thinks of the toll old age takes on ordinary people, things that he won’t have to worry about.

“What happened? I thought you had her in the bag?” Frank says, pressing his glasses to his face, smudging his thumb on the bottom edge, “Are you losing your game Dennis?”

Dennis laughs, “Don’t worry I’d have twice the game you have in your age, Frank. It’s just that I have more important stuff to do and I can’t waste my time with what’s a 7 at best.”

“Okay. You don’t mind me going after her?”

Dennis waves a careless hand. “Do your worst.”

“You always have the eye for the best ones.” Frank says and leaves.

Dennis feels his phone buzz. 

dennis pick up????!!!!!

Dennis scrolls down past the fifty or so messages. 

“What?”

“Why’re you not picking up?”

“I’m at the bar.”

“Bar?”

“Yeah, so I’m at the grocery store. And I have the Thin Mints, you need anything else?”

“No. I’m still on a diet.”

“What?” Dennis hears Mac’s voice dip, “But it’s been three days, Dennis.”

“Yeah and I could-” Dennis squeezes his eyes, “-go longer. So much… longer.”

“C’mon that’s-” Dennis hears Mac huff, “That’s too long, don’t you think and woah-”

“What?”

“I am seeing the juiciest red apples here now, bro.”

“Huh.” Dennis says, palming his stomach.

“And they are on sale. What do you say I come back and cut you one?”

“Well-” Dennis says.

“You know what? Sit tight. I’ll just do that.”

“Hm.”

“By the way, what are you doing at the bar?”

“I-” Dennis says, wiping his face with a cloth. “-was picking up chicks.”

“Oh. You uh- need me?”

“Need you?”

“Yeah, for the system. I could get home early and also set up the uh- camera. I’ve been noticing that the angle could-”

“No… pretty unattractive crowd here.”

“Oh… okay! See you like… in an hour. Tops.”

“Yeah.”

Whatever. He thinks.

Read more

[arianaofimladris]

Alright, I read The Crossroads of Ravens (or whatever the official title is going to be in English)

The review is without spoilers regarding the plot, just my general impressions, so don't worry.

In short words. It's shit.

I was mildly optimistic when I learned the book was going to be about young Geralt. And young Geralt we get indeed, but he's so bleak and, hmm, plain. It's hard to read more into him. Or I can figure out what I'm probsvly meant to see, but I don't really feel it.

Funny, I should be glad that it is mostly Geralt's POV (with one exception of Sapkowski doing his typical stuff when he needs to push the plot forward from one scene to another, which is presenting the events either in a random conversation or in a letter exchange). But I hardly felt like I was reading about Geralt.

The first 40 pages or so was a styllistic nightmare, with sentences often short and clumsy, with repetitions that seemed unnecessary and (in Polish) awfully jarring. After that it either got a bit better, or I resigned myself to this standard and stopped paying this much attention. I also had this ridiculous thought like I was reading some equivalent of a game tutorial, the kind where the game teaches you fighting mechanism under a cover of training.

I admit, I looked at the plot and plot ideas like I would look at a fanfic. Would I buy this or that in a random story online, or would I cringe and roll my eyes? Sadly, it was the latter most of the time.

There were bits where I can see a lot of wasted potential. Putting a very young Geralt in situations similar or parallel to the ones we know from the saga could be interesting. To show his youth, maybe his naivety, his lack of experience... And this book tries that a few times, but I don't think it delivers. There is not enough build-up to get me invested, and especially when such situation is a parallel to one of the short stories (and Witcher at its best), I just see how pale this one looks in comparison. The best attempt of such parallel was a confrontation thst takes literally 2,5 pages of the book.

How can I get invested when the whole situation is like a 1,5-2k long one-shot fanfic "Geralt gets to fight monster X"?

Side characters and dialogues is another matter that is a huge downgrade. Most of the side characters from the saga, even if they appear just for a scene or two, are distonguishable. Like the dwarf Dennis Cranmer from Voice of Reason. Or Linus Pitt and the discussion on the boat. In this book after finishing it an hour ago I can point one character (besides Geralt and Nenneke) that had some sort of character arc, but he was also, say, main side character. Aside from him, I can say there was this agent, that old lady, that guy from authority... Or there was a caricature of a wizard from saga. No way I can recall any name from my memory.

It was sad when I read half a page and suddenly thought "oh, that actually feels like Geralt, like Witcher". I wonder if it was some older, recycled note.

All in all, those 280 pages did not manage to get me emotionally invested, even when Geralt went to do things that were questionable or stupid or in any way this kind of things that should make me feel. There was one positive note at the very end, but it didn't feel earned and I was just flipping through the last 20 pages just to finish reading.

It's definitely worse than Season of Storms. I remember reading that book ten years ago and then not touching it for the next eight years. When I reread it about two years ago, I was mildly entertained (also because of excellent Polish audiobook) and I got the impression that Sapkowski played a bit and had a bit of fun when it was just Geralt fooling around, with no great stakes looming over him.

In case of Crossroads of Ravens, it was just boring.

[two-stud-invasion]

Gnarpy i will follow up with a text of a so called "right wing activist" called "ben shapiro" from earth what do you think of it

"Hello, is this Pizza Hut?Excellent. My name is Ben Shapiro. Conservative thought leader. Prominent white YouTuber. The Muggsy Bogues of the intellectual dark Web. And—look, it’s just a fact—I would like to order some pizza pie. If you are triggered by that request, I do not care. I truly do not.Now let’s discuss conditions. First, thank you for agreeing to debate me. Typically, in fora such as this, I am met with ad-hominem mudslinging, anything from “You racist creep” or “Is that your real voice?” to raucous schoolyard laughter and threats of the dreaded “toilet swirly.” However, your willingness to engage with me over the phone on the subject of pizza shows an intellectual fortitude and openness to dangerous ideas which reflects highly on your character. Huzzah, good sir. Huzzah.Second, any pizza I order will be male. None of this “Our pizza identifies as trans-fluid-pan-poly”—no. Pizza is a boy. With a penis. It’s that simple. It’s been true for all of human history, from Plato to Socrates to Mr. Mistoffelees, and any attempt to rewrite the pillars of Western thought will be met with a hearty “Fuh!” by yours truly. And, trust me, that is not a fate you wish to meet.Now. With regard to my topping preference. I have eaten from your pizzeria in times past, and it must be said: your pepperoni is embarrassingly spicy. Frankly, it boggles the mind. I mean, what kind of drugs are you inhaling over there? Pot?! One bite of that stuff and I had to take a shower. So tread lightly when it comes to spice, my good man. You do not want to see me at my most epic. Like the great white hero of Zack Snyder’s classic film “300,” I will kick you.Onions, peppers—no, thank you. If I wanted veggies, I’d go to a salad bar. I’m not some sort of vegan, Cory Booker weirdo. And your efforts to Michelle Obama-ize the great American pizza pie are, frankly, hilarious. Though not as funny as the impressively named P’Zone—when I finally figured out that genuinely creative pun, I laughed until I cried and peed. A true Spartan admits defeat, and I must admit that, in this instance, your Hut humor slayed me, Dennis Miller style.And, with that, you have earned my order. Congratulations. Ahem. Without further ado, I would like your smallest child pizza, no sauce, extra cheese. Hello? Aha. A hang-up. Another triggered lib, bested by logic. Damn it. I’m fucking starving."

. . 🛸 “ With my four eyez, I CAN’T READ A LONG PARAGRAPH YOU GLORP. ”

[heavenboy09]

Happy Birthday 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 To You, 1 Of The Most Legendary Funniest American Actor Of The 1960s In Cinema 🎥 & Tv 📺 & More Of The Century

Lloyd was born on October 22, 1938, in Stamford, Connecticut, the son of Ruth Lloyd (née Lapham; 1896–1984), a singer and sister of San Francisco mayor Roger Lapham, and her lawyer husband Samuel R. Lloyd Jr. (1897–1959). He is the youngest of three boys and four girls, one of whom, Samuel Lloyd, was an actor in the 1950s and 1960s. Lloyd's maternal grandfather, Lewis Henry Lapham, was one of the founders of the Texaco oil company and Lloyd is also a descendant of Mayflower passengers, including John Howland. Lloyd was raised in Westport, Connecticut, where he attended Staples High School and was involved in founding the high school's theater company, the Staples Players.

He is an American actor. He has appeared in many theater productions, films, and on television since the 1960s. He is known for portraying Dr. Emmett "Doc" Brown in the Back to the Future trilogy (1985–1990) and Jim Ignatowski in the comedy series Taxi (1978–1983), for which he won two Emmy Awards.

Lloyd came to public attention in Northeastern theater productions during the 1960s and early 1970s, earning Drama Desk and Obie awards for his work. He made his cinematic debut in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975) and went on to star as Commander Kruge in Star Trek III: The Search for Spock (1984), Professor Plum in Clue (1985), Judge Doom in Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988), Uncle Fester in The Addams Family (1991) and its sequel Addams Family Values (1993), Switchblade Sam in Dennis the Menace (1993), Mr. Goodman in Piranha 3D (2010), Bill Crowley in I Am Not a Serial Killer (2016) and David Mansell in Nobody (2021).

Lloyd earned a third Emmy for his 1992 guest appearance as Alistair Dimple in Road to Avonlea (1992), and won an Independent Spirit Award for his performance in Twenty Bucks (1993). He has done extensive voice work, including Merlock in DuckTales the Movie: Treasure of the Lost Lamp (1990), Grigori Rasputin in Anastasia (1997), the Hacker in the PBS Kids series Cyberchase (2002–present), which earned him Daytime Emmy nominations, and the Woodsman in the Cartoon Network miniseries Over the Garden Wall (2014).

Please Wish This Legendary Funny Actor Of The 1960s Of Cinema 🎥 & Tv 📺 & Other Forms Of Entertainment A Very Happy Birthday 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊

YOU KNOW HIM

YOU LOVE HIM

& HIS VOICE IS ICONIC THROUGHOUT THE WORLD 🌎

THE 1 & ONLY

MR. CHRISTOPHER ALLEN LLYOD👴 AKA DOCTOR EMMETT BROWN OF THE BACK TO THE FUTURE TRILOGY 👴🚗🕐⏩

#ChristopherLlyod #DocEmmettBrown #Taxi #BackToTheFuture #Anastasia #TheAddamsFamily #WhoFramedRogerRabbit #Cyberchase #SpiritHalloweenTheMovie

[games-art-events]

Nicole Demara

"A wise choice! But my commission fee isn't cheap!" — Nicole Demara

Character Announcement Nicole is the founder of the New Eridu Odd-Job Agency the Cunning Hares. Nicole's crafty behavior has earned her a reputation among her peers as "Even more cunning than a hare".

Voice Actor Announcement

Time is money — so even if I don't do anything, you better pay well~

178, 179, 180... What am I counting, you ask? My appearance fee, of course, 10 Dennies per second~

CV: Yu Serizawa

Nicole Demara

Nicole is the founder of the New Eridu Odd-Job Agency the Cunning Hares.

After years on the streets, Nicole's crafty and cunning behavior has earned her a reputation among her peers as "Even more cunning than a hare".

Despite the agency's high commission fee, the Cunning Hares financial situation is constantly in the red...

[abcdefgoose]

"It's really sad how easily you lie to us Rob," Jonathan murmurs mournfully from the other side of the room where he’s handcuffed to the wall.

From the other wall Max shakes his head, "You said you were a magician.”

"Look, the only reason you can't find a record-"

"Not even a review!" Annie crows smugly.

"Is because one doesn't exist." Sandra finishes for him, earning a glare from Robert that would have anyone else backing into a corner.

Robert grits his teeth, twisting against the handcuffs as though his frustration can give him enough power to break forth from where he's trapped, "It was a long time ago."

"We're all going to die-" Dennis cries out as the doors remained closed and the water started to pool in.

“-We’re not going to die! I can pick these locks any minute-”

“We’re all going to die.” Vanessa seems resolved to her watery grave with all of the elegant tragedy of a renaissance painting.

“No one’s going to die-” Chris’s voice echoes from the speakers above them, “This is a team bonding exercise, you’re all perfectly safe.”

[starlightswitch]

A Challenge So Straightforward

@flashfictionfridayofficial You'd expect me to take this in a more dramatic direction, and honestly so did I.

“This is it?” Denny, still out of breath from the climb, stood staring. “This is how it ends?”

“Climbing a literal mountain wasn’t dramatic enough for you?” Lara pulled herself through the opening. “I’m glad you’re not the one who decided what I had to do to be ruler.” She breathed for a second, spun so she could get her feet on the ground, got to her feet and started briskly over to the pedestal with the crown.

“Wait!” Denny threw his arms out. He would have actually grabbed her if she had still been within reach.

An urgent warning from him was enough to stop her. “Yes?”

“I don’t think it’s this easy.”

Lara stood still, scanning with narrowed eyes. “I don’t see any…” She looked to the ceiling. “…any traps. Do you see something?”

“Would we necessarily see it?”

“I can’t think of any trap that we wouldn’t be able to see. I guess there could be… invisible poisons or something, but it seems a little unfair to expect me to avoid something without even knowing it’s there.”

“So you’re just going to walk over there and take the crown?”

“Yes?” They stared at each other until Lara demanded, “Do you know something I don’t know? Was this secretly planned by someone who doesn’t want me earning the right? Because if my parents are involved, which as far as I know they are, I don’t think they’re out to kill me.”

“I told you,” said Denny, “it just seems too easy. It seems like there should be another part to the test, like, I don’t know, maybe you’re supposed to reject the crown because you… don’t want the rule for the majesty, you want it for… what you can do for others?”

Lara rubbed her face. “They told me to get the crown and I’m suddenly supposed to see the symbolic meaning of the crown instead? I think you’re thinking too much. Which is not new.” She looked around again– “And who’s going to see whether I reject the crown or not? Are you really saying we go all the way back down without it? What if that’s the wrong answer? You really want to come back up here? Or are you going to sit that one out?”

“I wouldn’t sit it out!” said Denny, hurt.

“Sorry.” Lara gave him a small smile. “But I do think you’re overthinking. And unless you have a very good reason not to, I am going to get that crown so we can get out of here and be done with this.”

She gave him a chance to offer a good reason if he had one. Then she went and got the crown.

Nothing happened when she touched it. Nothing happened when she took it from the pedestal. She tossed it on her arm and with it dangling at her elbow she went back to Denny at the entrance. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

“Are you going to…” He gestured at the crown. “That’s how you’re going to carry it?”

“Well, I need my hands for climbing.”

Denny looked at it and gave a frustrated sigh in the back of his throat. “Careful you don’t drop it,” he said.

Lara giggled and smirked. “…because that might be part of the test, whether I respect the crown enough not to drop it. Right.”

This time he did not restrict his sigh. Addressing the ceiling, he said, “Some heirs in waiting would be grateful to have someone at their side through this challenge.”

Lara’s voice rose from behind him– she was already starting the climb down. “What you mean is, some heirs in waiting would show their gratitude by not poking at you,” she said. “And you know me better than that.”