#Bjarne Bare

[thevindicativevordan]

For all Seasons?

Overrated and like most Loeb books, primarily carried by the art.

Totally understandable given it is an absolutely gorgeous book. Rereading it took my breath away at every single spread, to the point I was sorely tempted to get the Absolute just for the art. Sale nails every single location, he can evoke Norman Rockwell with Smallville and then you turn the page and he's depicting Metropolis as the Art Deco wonderland of adventure it should be. Bjarne Hansen's coloring perfectly sets the tone for each of the seasons: bright spring, upbeat summer, melancholic fall, and then a gloomy winter that gives way to spring once more. On art, few are the names which can match these guys.

Great as the art is the writing is very basic. Clark is a good if simple lad who wants to help people because his salt of the Earth farmer folk raised him right. He reaches adulthood and realizes he doesn't want to spend his entire life in Smallville - choosing to leave after confessing his secret to Lana. After a period of adventures as Superman in Metropolis -where he earns the attraction of Lois and the enmity of Lex - someone dies while helping him save Metropolis which makes Clark depressed and pushes him to run back to Smallville. He and Lana reunite, she helps him rediscover his confidence, he saves Smallville from a flood and moves back to Metropolis. That is the entire plot and it's as barebones as the summary reads.

There's a few interesting bits that don't go anywhere: Clark remarking that Metropolis doesn't feel like home but Smallville doesn't anymore either is relatable to me. That part of growing up hits hard for anyone who has moved out of their parents' house and then returns to their childhood home for a visit. Pete chewing Clark and Lana out for getting the opportunity to leave Smallville that he always wanted, only to run back with their tails between their legs was nice. For All Seasons is my first time finding Pete interesting and I wish he had gotten his own issue where we see his perspective on Smallville. Everyone else waxes on about the town's greatness but that clearly is not how Pete feels, and a chance to see him express his view to contrast with the rest might have spiced things up. Ma and Pa offer the usual cliché cornfed wisdom if you like that sort of thing.

Characterization wise, Clark barely gets any? Since he doesn't get to narrate any sections of the book, we're stuck seeing him through other peoples eyes. He's nice, strong, principled, and has his head stuck up his ass. "Basic" is the best way to put it, he lacks the nuance or depth of other portrayals. A few good moments stand out, my favorite is when he cheekily escorts Lex's helicopter back to Lexcorp Tower after Lex has been arrested, that was funny and I wish we got more of that. It's not a terrible take, but I've read better elsewhere. Could just as easily see someone reading this and walking away thinking Superman is boring as I could see them reading this and coming away a fan. Probably the most damning thing I can say is that the "real" Clark is the most boring of the three identities. Metropolis Clark has an underrated sense of dry humor, Superman has a "friendly neighborhood hero" vibe that makes him endearing, but the "real" Clark in Smallville comes across as a dope who is always in need of simplistic advice, and walks through life with a wide-eyed puppy dog look that makes him feel stupid. Just doesn't come across as very bright in his "real" self.

Lois is... ok. Cast in the mold of the Byrne Post-Crisis model where she was sucking up to Lex Luthor until Superman came along and she switched to pursuing him. The feistiness and dedication to the story are there at least, and I do love how Sale draws her. But the only moment with Lois that I actually rate highly is the one where she's snooping through Clark's belongings, assumes the "L.L." he's talking about in a letter to his parents refers to her, and when Clark catches her she tries to gaslight him into thinking she's doing him a favor. Hilarious moment, but Lana honestly comes across more as Clark's great love here. She's the one he's thinking of even years after they last saw each other, she plays a critical part in pushing him to become Superman in the first place albeit indirectly, and at shakes him out of his funk when he's at his lowest. If this was one of the definitive works for Post-Crisis Superman, I finally kind of get why some writers preferred Lana over Lois.

Lex is lame as hell. Diet Kingpin indeed, his plan is underwhelming to put it mildly. He's not smart enough to create a virus himself so he has to hire someone else to do it for him? Not muh Lex. Knocking the entire city out just to set up one person dying on Superman's watch because that will make Superman quit is stupid not smart. Supes does recognize that Lex is probably responsible for the virus, that he doesn't immediately suspect Lex set up this woman to die just to screw with him feeds into what I said about this Supes sometimes being a dope. Pa gives him a pep talk regarding this that boils down to "sometimes you're going to fail" and yeah no shit. A grown ass man needs to hear that from his dad because Lex telling him he sucks and should quit is enough to get him to flee back home after one failure? Feud between the two of them here feels like an old man seething about the damn kid on his lawn rather than a titanic battle between Men of Tomorrow who each have their own idea of the future.

If I only got to recommend five books to win someone over to liking Superman, this wouldn't be one of them. It's fine, if you want a Superman book that makes you feel wholesome inside then go ahead. If you want to see Tim Sale absolutely knock you on your ass with great art, definitely check this out. For someone who thinks Superman is boring? I don't think this is going to convince very many otherwise.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

No Way Home

(Story Post)

Tand and the kids were escorted at sword point by elf guards. Their hands were bound, and mouths muzzled to prevent them from biting. They huddled together, Bita in the middle, sandwiched by their older siblings. Tand gave anyone and everyone nasty looks as they passed through the elf city towards the gates. Onlookers watched in fear, curiosity, and disgust. Korsy and Dusty were waiting by the gates. The demon had reinitiated his flirting with the guards Bjarne and Marbjörn again, but he brushed them off now and a look of concern returned as he saw how uncomfortably the little group approaching looked, gagged like animals. He wanted to run up and hug the kids, but he knew they might take it as aggression so he stayed still in his place. “Is that finally it?” Dusty asked. “We can just go with them?” “One more,” Korsy said, looking past the group.

A moment later, Asger marched up, not bound or anything, but still led at sword point. He kept his head held high, unconcerned by his criminal handling, but when he saw Tand and Co., he couldn’t help breaking form a little to smile. “You’re alright!” he said, looking between the kids then looking Tand in the face. “By the gods, I thought they might… I’m so sorry.” “You lied,” Tand growled through their muzzle, their tail thrashing behind them. “I should’ve known this would happen, that is true. But I never meant to deceive you,” Asger said. “But now, I can be sure you will be safe and get the care you need. My cousin knows how to handle these things.” Tand just turned away and ignored him, choosing to fix their gaze on a rock by their feet. “You really give me too much credit…” Korsy sighed, before inquiring: “Uncle Folke’s not going to see us out?” Asger shook his head. “No, my father would rather anything else but to look upon me now…” Korsy exhaled and gave him a couple slaps on the back. “You’re doing a good thing. I’m sorry it had to go this way.” Asger shook his head. “It’s fine. If being exiled from my home is the only way to ensure the safety of these folks, then it is a small price to pay.” “At least you have your mother’s place to live, eh?” Korsy said. Asger shook his head. “No, the dark elves claim all of Scandinavia as under their watch. I cannot return to Sweden.” Korsy blinked a few times, then rubbed his neck. “Shit. I didn’t know it was that extreme… I guess you’re coming with us, then. Do you have your passport up to date?” Asger shrugged. “I assume not.” “Ah, okay… Uh, APID can handle that, no worries,” Korsy assured. “Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.” Dusty turned to his guard friends. “Marbjörn, if you will…” “You're going now?” the guard answered looking distraught. “You'll text us, ja?” Bjarne insisted, equally distraught. Dusty gave them a smile and a pat on the cheeks. “Of course. But I have to get back to work, boys. I'll speak to you soon.” Bjarne nodded, dragging his companion back to the guard house where they could activate the gates. They opened a crack for them and Korsy waved Tand and kids through first then Dusty and Asger. As soon as they were all on the other side, the gates were closed behind them, and they were left to themselves at the docks. “Let’s get these off first, yeah?” Korsy went behind Tand and undid the muzzle. Asger quickly followed suit, removing the children’s muzzles, and then removing their wrist bindings. Unbound, Tand quickly moved to hide the children behind them and bared their teeth again. “Why release us?” “Because that was the whole plan?” Korsy crossed his arms. “You folks are free now; however, we recommend you come with us. You need food, shelter, and medical attention. We can provide that to you.” “No. Send us back to our home,” Tand demanded. “This was a mistake. A lie!” “There’s no back,” Korsy said. He pointed to the gates. “‘Back’ is through the rift in there and you’re definitely not allowed back in there.” “But as we are now, I can fulfil my promise to you,” Asger said, stepping in front of Korsy to speak to Tand. “I offered you my home and protection. You can be safe with me.” “You do not have a home,” Tand said. “You just said.” Asger sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “Ah, right… Well, in broader terms, this realm is my home. If you stay with me, I will protect you.” “You do not have a home. You did not protect us from that…that terrible place!” Tand said pointing back to the city. “I cannot trust you!” “But you can trust me, can’t you?” Korsy said. “I said we’d get you out and I followed through. That must be worth something.” Tand just looked at him, a wrinkle to their nose. Just then, Soppa stepped forward. “You said I can get soup.” Dusty lit up. “Yes! If you come with us, we can get you soup, and any other food you like.” “Crackers,” Sten piped in. “We can certainly find crackers too,” Dusty assured. “Please, I know you're all hungry. And we can get you some new clothes and somewhere to sleep. Just come with us.” Tand shook their head. “No.” Soppa pouted, pulling at Tand's arm. “Please? I like Asger.” Tand whirled around, flashing Soppa a stern look. “If you want to go, then go! I want to go home!” “Tand, hold on a minute,” Asger said. “The last thing we want is division.” Regardless, Tand said nothing as Soppa picked up Bita and carried them over by Asger, Sten following behind. The kids all kept their eyes down, feeling the anger radiating towards them from Tand. “Kids, I...” Asger faltered, looking down at the little group by him. “I'm not going to take you away from your parent. This isn't how this is meant to go.” “Hungry,” Bita said, looking up at Asger. Dusty and Korsy stood by, not really sure what to do. Technically, the whole group was released to their custody, but based on their treatment already, they didn't want to force anyone into anything. “Listen, this is a small island, all of which is owned by the dark elves,” Korsy said. “We have a boat to take you to the mainland. From there, you can do whatever you want. I'm not going to stop you.” “You would have us free in your world?” Tand said. “I mean, it would be grossly irresponsible on my part and likely put you in danger because you don't know this world, but if you absolutely refuse to come with us, I am not going to stop you,” Korsy said. Tand looked at the children, hesitated a moment, but nodded. “Your boat.” Korsy perked up and motioned to a medium sized craft tied at the docks. “This way.” Tand just started walking towards the boat. Asger tapped Soppa's shoulder and pointed, motioning the kids to follow along. They shuffled after them, mindful not to get underfoot. Korsy jogged up ahead so he could help everyone get on safely while Dusty and Asger climbed in last. The kids and Tand were startled by the swaying of the craft beneath their feet, but Asger helped them sit and get comfortable. Dusty handed out life vests which Asger also helped put on their guests. Once everyone was secure, Korsy undid the line, started up the engine and left the dock.

On the ride, Dusty remembered some snacks Karla had giving them for the trip which he'd stashed away on the boat. Retrieving them, he gave each of the kids a cookie, and offered one to Tand, but they refused it. Soppa took all the kids’ cookies first, sniffed them, and then handed them back once they were sure they were safe to eat. The kids started a round of ‘thank you’s and ‘you’re welcome’s like they had when Asger had given them crackers. Tand continued to ignore them. It was still dark out, just before dawn, so despite the summer, a cold breeze was made worse by the speed of the boat. Tand and family wore almost nothing, save for some shorts and shirts made from an unknown fibre. Dusty was worried they'd catch a cold, so he found two blankets in the boat storage and handed them out. The kids all huddled up under one, but Tand refused the other. “Come on, it's really cold,” Dusty insisted. “I'm just giving you a blanket to warm up. I don't want you to get sick.” Tand still didn't move to take it, and just shut their eyes, attempting to shut everyone out. They already looked a bit pale, and after a moment, they pursed their lips, a sound like a hiccup escaping them. Dusty blinked and then patted Korsy's shoulder while he drove the boat. “Can you slow down a bit?” “Hm? Why?” “I think they're a bit seasick,” Dusty said. At that very moment, Tand could hold it, and a little bit of sick dribbled from their mouth. Korsy saw this and slowed down. “Whoa, okay. Over the edge, over edge, please. This is a rental!” Asger rushed over to their side in aid, helping them turn around and lean their head over the edge. They didn't have much to bring up however and just retched dryly. “Were there any water bottles with those snacks?” Korsy asked. “They need something for their stomach.” While Dusty got the water, Asger had Tand close their eyes and breathe deeply. “Just relax,” he said. “Concentrate on your breathing. It'll help steady you.” “Sit them in the middle,” Korsy said. “Less motion there.” Tand let Asger sit them in the centre of the boat and even let him wrap the blanket Dusty offered around his shoulders. Their stomach seemed to have already settled, though they were still pale. Tand spoke suddenly. “Why do you call me that?” “Call you what?” Asger asked. “You call me Tand. But you also call me ‘Them’. And ‘They’.” “Oh, uh. Well, I gave you a name since you don't seem to have one. Of course, if you don't like it, we can change it,” Asger explained. Tand just shrugged at that. “And we call you them because, well, we don't know your gender and it's just polite,” Asger said. Tand looked at him. “My gender?” “Yes. I am a male elf, so my pronouns are he/him,” Asger said. “Oh, are we sharing gender identity and pronouns?” Dusty said excitedly. “Succubus. He/him. Mostly...” “Man. He/him,” Korsy added. Asger looked worriedly at Korsy for that but didn't say anything. Tand knit their brow. “You are all he/him. Then I am too, no?” “I mean, if you want to be, we can do that. You don't have to,” Asger said. “There are other pronouns like she/her, or they/them, or a combination.” “Or neo pronouns,” Dusty added. “Like ze/zir.” Tand frowned, not fully understanding. “I am like you. He and him.” “He and him it is then,” Asger said. “We'll make sure to pay attention to that.” “Do we get those too?” Soppa asked. “Of course,” Asger said. “Did you hear something you like?” Soppa thought about it. “I like he/him too. Like Asger.” “Alright.” Asger smiled. “And the others?” Sten titled their head. “What were the other choices?” “I think we've listed he/him, she/her, they/them, and ze/zir?” Asger retold. “What’s the difference?” Soppa asked. “Well, to be very general,” Dusty started to explain, “Usually, but not always, he/him is used for boys, while she/her is for girls. They/them is often used by people who aren't a boy or a girl, or are both, or sometimes one and sometimes the other... Sometimes they use a combination of the other ones. Or something else entirely, like ze/zir.” Sten just said. “Oh... I don't know.” “How about they/them, then?” Dusty asked. “For now.” Sten just nodded. “She,” Bita piped up. “Is that what you like?” Dusty asked. Bita nodded. “Alright, I think we figured it out then,” Asger said. “In that case, Tand if you want he/him, then you would be the kids' father,” Asger said. “Only if you like that term,” Dusty said. “I know a he/him who goes by mom.” “I don't care,” Tand said. “Whatever's usual is fine. Talking is too much...” “Well, if we go by the norms, then that would make Soppa a son and brother, Sten still a child and sibling, and Bita a daughter and sister,” Dusty said. “Sister!” Bita sounded excited saying it back. “That’s right, you’re Soppa and Sten’s little sister.” Dusty smiled. “Glad we’re in a better mood. A cookie can go a long way.” “An identity can go a long way too,” Korsy said. “A sense of self is very inspiring.” Tand still didn’t seem to be doing so hot and had his head down between his knees, trying to keep from getting sick again. Asger offered him a bottle of water, but he passed on it. Instead, Asger turned back to see the island he’d called home drift further and further away. It wasn’t long before a thick mist obscured his view and the island appeared to vanish. He let out a deep sigh and turned back. Soppa was watching him, so he smiled to the child and leaned back. He wanted to be brave for them. It was all he could do for now.

[stinerbros]

Eer from Kristoffer Borgli on Vimeo.

Eer is a short film written and directed by Kristoffer Borgli, based on real events.

Starring Alia Shawkat, Alex Warren Made with the support of Oslo Pictures, Furlined & BWGTBLD GmbH. Additional support from Pomp&Clout Cinematography by Ben Mullen. Prosthetic Makeup Design by Izzi Galindo. 1st AC Adam Marquez. Sound Recording Jose Gallo, Erin Fitzgerald. Styling by Kaysie Bergens. Sound Design by Chase Everett. Coloring by Andrew Francis. Produced by Andy Ruse. Written, directed and edited by Kristoffer Borgli. Also appearing: Jordan Raf, Julia Feil, Marie Soderbergh, Robbie Barnett Special thanks to Alexandra Noel, Ross Wiggins, Lars Kjelsnes, Bjarne Bare, Lucy Bull.

[galactose-galaxy]

Okay, I wrote this a bit ago and its basically a blurb of an AU of my one character, Bjarne (or Sleipnir), and how his normal lore would translate to the universe of Altered Carbon. Fully self-serving as I absolutely adore the show (need to read the books... soon) and I enjoy how the parallel of sleeve wearing fits the original version's stuff. I think, for fun I might write another. Would be great to practice writing characters interacting since it is such a weak point for me :,) Also warning, some violence and quick murder

-*-*-*-

Freezing sleet rapped against the thick glass, barely audible about the electronic hum that constantly droned throughout the entire city. Quiet was for the deaf and the dead, the living had to suffer with the noise their evolution had brought to this alien world. The closest thing to peaceful background noise jarringly broke as the worn lock of this rusted place ground open, followed by the heavy sliding of the door. The peace was further sullied as dim lights turned on, and the muffled screaming of a gagged man now filled the space. With a soaked back and tied-up feet, the man fruitlessly gasped and grabbed the broad shoulder he was so unceremoniously slung over. The leather, cold from the outdoors, gave the well-chewed nails of the man nothing to grab onto. Frigid, unbearing. Even his kicks were still weak and uncoordinated, a fruitless endeavour that only received silence from the man’s captor.

Taking a final drag of the cigarette, the captor roughly crumpled it in his hand, singing flesh with the dying ember before flicking it to the already littered ground of the hotel room. He gripped the man’s tied feet and with a heave he sent the body falling right into the chair prepped by the window. Finally, the captor and captured were face to face for the first time. Unnaturally blue eyes bore into the natural brown, only encouraging the muffled screams to continue. The captor’s lip twitched downwards, into a frown as he finally exhaled, letting his smoke wash over the screaming victim. Wretched, disgusting, even gagged the poor victim choked and sputtered. At least, as he did so the sweaty and now drool-soaked rag was removed from his mouth. Sucking a breath in, he started to spew the filthy begging they all did. “Please, I-I just take my money man. I can even drain my account for you. I can even pretend I never saw your face and we can just part ways right here. What do you say, big guy?” The captor simply turned his back. Cold and uncaring, not a word fell from his lips in acceptance or denial. He didn’t care, the only thing he cared about was that precious sleeve the man had. Be it bought, born, or borrowed, the skin was soft, the eyes a wonderful natural shade and the man didn’t seem to be balding either. Bjarne could already taste the credits this one would make him. The time it would spare him. Calloused hands picked up a well-used switchblade from the kitchenette as the coffee machine whirred to life, dribbling into the stained carafe. The chorus of pleading became the new backdrop as he stepped closer, flicking the blade open, its golden metal flashing just as his large frame moved to straddle the still-conscious sleeve. The talking moved to panicked screams, pleading and begging, and even a prayer or two. All the beautiful words fell on deaf ears though, and all it got was a very soft and disappointing, “shhh” from Bjarne. Shushing the poor man like a fussy child. Even caressing his hair like one as his face was forced against leather. The victim gnashed his teeth and bit where he could, but cold calloused hands stayed true and strong, keeping him in place. Holding him still as the golden blade of Gabriel found the nape of his neck.

Tears ran, and sobbing began. “Don’t RD me, please, I swear, I can change. If that is what this is, please, please, I will learn please.” The sobs grew ugly, deranged. While the corners of the cold captor’s lips twitched yet again, falling farther into a scornful frown, just as blood pricked the knife eager to escape as the tip was pushed in on that telltale scar. With an uncomfortable precision, the blade slid in, roughly bumping against the vertebra as Bjarne found the sweet spot. The man’s pleas grew in crescendo, falling ill to the pain before finally nothing. The body hung limp against Bjarne’s chest. The silver-haired man let out a soft sigh, twisting his knife against the man’s spinal cord until the object of his desires popped free. Dropping the knife to the ground, blood splattering over his already stained boots, he drove his fingers into the wound. Flesh squelched uncomfortably, but the little metal piece was easy enough to find. He gave it a flick as he stood up, pushing the once a man, now just a sleeve, back into the chair. Holding the glowing blue object up to the light, simply inspected it with an appraising eye, even giving it a wipe against his shirt before tossing it into a bowl where a few others resided. Far away from that hotel, and a few bodies lighter, Bjarne flicked and tossed his knife, over and over again. Sheltered by the taller buildings, the rain only came down in certain areas and was easy to avoid. Yet it created puddles and portals to another world. Reflecting the hundreds of neon lights that dance, desperately trying to grab the attention of the small-minded individual. Like moths to a flame, a crowd surrounded the establishment that Bjarne had been looking for. Slipping his blade away, he tucked his palms into his pockets, shouldering his way through without a word. No apologies or even the acknowledgement of those he barreled through. They didn’t matter, they were nothing to him. He only had one goal and wanted it over with as quickly as possible. With a steeled gaze he looked up towards the neon pink sign, the strange symbols of a name rolling right past his mind. Still, after all these years, he hadn’t bothered to learn to read the local tongue.

A rough hand grabbed his jacket, yanking back on the young man. Causing his tunnel vision to break as he came face to face with a bouncer. “Buddy, back of the line.” Giving the strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes a puff of air, he stared the bouncer down, trying to recognize the face. Grabbing a hold of the still stained and bloodied shirt he wore, he tugged down the neckline, giving the man just the corner of a tattoo that swirled along his chest. Just with the sight of the tail, the bouncer was understanding, and let Bjarne go with a rough push. “Don’t fuckin’ start anythin’, I don’t care who you are, fucker.” Someone who didn’t care wouldn’t have crumpled so easily. For a brief moment, the young man let himself revel in the fantasy that he was respected for his own name, his reputation. He moves past the winding hallways of flashing and neon lights, tuning out the faux moans of organic and synthetic workers alike along with the cheers of the greasy folk who frequented this upstanding establishment. Though, just as fake as the paid-for whimpers of pleasure, he knew that fantasy was synthetic, made up just to buffer the blow against his ego. He was no man of his own making, just a boy forced to the coattails of the man he worked for. Passing by more security, this time unhindered, he shouldered the heavy metal door. As soon as the seal was broken, a wash of smoke blew over his face, swirling and burning his nostrils with its toxicity. Fucking terrible. With a final breath of relatively fresh air, he stepped in, as confident as his legs would allow. Bathed in low and pink light, the source of the haze that filled the luxurious room sat the uncomfortably familiar face, the golden mirror of his own, aged by years of life, and years of purgatory. Bjarne’s father blew out some more smoke, and a grin, unlike that of his father, broke across his face, followed by a voice made by Gabriel’s vocal cords, but spoken by that of Svathilfari. “Sleipnir, my boy, you finally join us.” The voice purred, cracked by the smoke-filled lungs. A ringed hand delicately brushed over the shoulder of his Blom, her form wore a new sleeve, yet the boy could see who she was just from the judgmental glare she held for the boy, a glare that only softened when she returned her attention to the most important figure of the room.

Bjarne didn’t offer the man a verbal response. He never did. Instead, he stepped past where they lounged, roughly opening the cabinet where he knew the terminal was, the one he always had to use. “Three hours late. Right on the dot. You know the deal, boy.” He grinned, turning over the cigarette in his hand before sucking down another puff, letting it snake out of his maw after a moment. Pure ecstasy seemed to flood through that stolen sleeve as soon as the chemicals hit. A glance was all the man got before the boy shrugged his shoulders, depositing the credits. All the way down until his account was empty, yet the balance wasn’t set to zero. He squinted towards the screen, turning back to Svadilfari with a soft grunt of confusion.

“Ah, boy. Inflation you see.” The man didn’t even give him the respect of hiding his devilish smirk. “Had to charge more, especially on your regular late fee.”

Quiet anger seethed in the young man, waiting for the inevitable rest of his words. He always offered this, he always wanted it.

The golden mirrored man pushed off from the elegant chair, clasping the pin-striped suit’s buttons neatly as he closed the distance. “Sell your sleeve, Sleipnir.”

There it was, and right as those once kind hands grasped the boy’s shoulders, trapping him in place and under that terrifying gaze. A delusional man would think he was brave, staring down the eyes that threatened to pluck him right from the very skin he wore. Truthfully, the son was always terrified of the father. As a child, as a teen, and even now, as an adult.

Hands balled into fists as he seethed. It took every single ounce of courage the weak boy had to muster it, but he did, just as every time before. Breaking the eye contact, he shook his head no.

“How many times have we been over this.” The false father growled, the grip on the boy’s shoulder with barely restrained rage. They had been over this time and time again, the incoming speech that often was delivered with a calm before the storm. False Father’s mouth opened for a mere moment before he drew a knife of air through his teeth, snapping the brittle tension with a deranged smile.

The shift caught the boy off guard, and where his eyes had found themselves digging holes in the wall behind his tormentor readying himself to withstand a beating, they snapped to his face in stark confusion. That mask must have broken, for the change in the boy’s demeanour brought nothing but illicit joy from Svadilfari.

“I have a far better offer for you, especially now that you consider yourself a man.”

*-*-*

[vincekris]

Bjarne Bare

[clear-glass]

Bjarne Bare. Bungee Sketch # 3, 2016

[mossworth]

4?

Oh wow I'm guessing this is for the OC prompt? That was fast! Lemme think... other than one group, I'm probably going to rank them individually, because if they were in their written groups they'd all have a pretty fair shot. (we're going to have a whole mix of original writing and fan-characters. And in case you're not sure who each one is, I'll link their story/art/whatever I have of them in the titles!)

Thanks so much for the ask!

"4. Rank your OCs from most likely to survive the zombie apocalypse, to least."

1.) Candlewit (D&D):

Maybe it's because she's a warforged and the whole "flesh-eating" business isn't too much of a threat, maybe it's because of the wild magic seeping and crackling out of every nick-notch-and-scratch, or maybe it's her giant ice saw. But I wouldn't have a single doubt that she'd do just fine. Honestly, wouldn't be too far off from the regular. I should write about the time she nearly got bludgeoned (but didn't!) by a ghost because she didn't realize they were supposed to be fighting.

2.) James Brotz (Ghoul Parade)

Dude's magic. Dude's good** at magic. Dude's Most Likely to Befriend the Zombies and Make an Undead Army.

3.) Ardolf Folke Greymouth (Greymouth/D&D)

Ardolf's been surviving a lot for a while - not to mention the whole lycanthropy business. Between his medical knowledge and his actual abilities as an adventurer, I'd have faith in him. Though he'd absolutely be the sort of character who'd use himself as bait to distract a horde or something so his survival isn't 100%. Give him some kids to watch after, though, and he'd jump to the top of this list out of spite alone.

4.) The Greymouth Family (Bjarne [father], Sigfrid Torø [mother], Hlidowig Baard Mør [Grandad]. Þorir [youngest son], Roald Oddr [middle son]) (Greymouth/D&D)

I'm going to group all of these folks together since I haven't done a lot with them individually? But as one unit. Oh yeah, oh without a doubt. They'd be running their mountaintop clinic at top priority with running defenses and everything. The zombies wouldn't have a chance. Though since they're not exactly adventurers I wouldn't hedge my bets - specifically if the zombies got in.

5.) Dh’ie the Mist-minded (Skyrim)

Without any good cities to beg in she'd be left high and dry. She had some solid training from the Vigilants but that didn't exactly last long. So, unless one of those Daedric Princes she's messing around with decide she's too entertaining to let go of and help her out, she'd have a real rough time.

6.) Martin Finley (Ghoul Parade)

He's... he doesn't exactly count as undead. He's pretty good with a gun, but poor dude would do bad on his own. He might be in the business of getting the zombies to let them in their club, though. He about fits the part - they eat the same thing!

7.) Illistar Motts (D&D)

Unless he could convince himself into some already established camp (which... I'd have zero doubts he wouldn't be able to. Dude can talk himself into anything so-long as they don't mind tieflings), he'd be toast. Ilistar's a high charisma build and otherwise doesn't have much going for him. Plus, Heteroclite - his patron - would undoubtedly be the worst traveling partner. He'd tell Illistar to rush right into a horde because he'd want to see how they'd munch around the horns.

8.) Jo Marie (Ghoul Parade)

Look, he might be a vampire. And when he gets the hang of that whole business he might be pretty dang strong. But this accountant has barely gotten over the blood thing, let alone trying to cope with an apocalypse. If he were left to his own devices he'd die, or kind of die in a weird half-vampire way.

~ Disqualified ~

Alec Kahloon (Fallout):

He was born and raised in an apocalypse so I don’t think he counts. He’d survive without a doubt, though. Shark tooth medic man my beloved.

Gor’valdur Faelore (Skyrim):

He’s… he’s technically already undead so I feel like that’d be cheating. But like more undead than the Ghoul Parade guys.

**He's not really that good at magic. But everyone around him is worse which makes him an authority by proxy. Lord help them all.

[electricgecko]

Bjarne Bare at Oslo Contemporary.

[avengers1shots]

RED White and Blue

Steve x Fem!Reader

There was so much blood, it looked like a crime scene. You could say being on your period was a crime. You knew that you were going to get it soon, but why did the monthly visit from hell have to happen today? You were supposed to be going on a mission, but the cramps hurt so much that you couldn’t stand without falling over soon afterwards. Being the stubborn person that you are, you tried to get up again, only causing you to let out a cry of pain from inside the bathroom. After that, you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore.

A certain American hero happened to be walking by the bathroom and heard you crying. Concerned for you, he knocked on the door, “Y/n, are you okay?” Steve asked gently from the other side. All you could do was start crying louder, embarrassed by the fact Steve had found you in this condition.

“Steve can you please leave me be? I’m having… girl problems.” You told him, hoping he understood. Steve’s eyes widened, realizing your problem. He stood outside the bathroom door and pondered over what he should do.

“I’m going to reassign our tasks for the mission to other members of the team. I’ll stay here and take care of you.” Steve said, not even letting you have a chance to argue with the choice. “Y/n can you please unlock the door now?” He asked. You had already made your way and unlocked it swiftly. Steve opened the door for you, making sure not to hit you with it. He stepped around you before carefully picking you up, carrying you bridal style out of the bathroom and to your room, where he placed you on your bed.

Steve tucked you in and sat on the end of the bed, giving you a smile. “Would you like me to get you anything?” He asked. You nodded and asked him to get you something to eat. Steve left and you were now alone again. You shut your eyes and tried to rest a bit.

Next thing you knew, Steve was waking you up. You opened your eyes and smiled, seeing him here made you feel better. “Good morning.” Steve started, then he pulled out a grocery bag, “I went out and bought you a few things.” He stated. You questioned how long you had been asleep when he emptied the bag out.

“I got you some snacks and a lot of chocolate, because you’re probably craving something sweet. I also got some soda, when I was younger my mom said caffeine helped with headaches.” he explained. You were shocked by how much money Steve had spent on you.

“Thank you… for taking care of me. You didn’t have to go through all of the trouble.” You said, feeling slightly guilty you had taken his attention away from the mission. Though part of you was relieved that you could have someone, especially Steve, here for you.

Steve shook his head, “It wasn’t a bother really, I want to help you. It makes me feel terrible knowing you are in pain.” he said. You barely heard the last bit of it because Steve had said it so softly. You felt your cheek start to heat up. Knowing you were blushing now, you took one of your pillows and quickly hid your face with it.

Steve was a gentleman and always so caring, especially towards you. Ever since you had joined the team, Steve treated you with respect. He made you feel queasy whenever he was around. The way he smiled at you was breathtaking. If you were in a room with the rest of the Avengers, Steve would always go out of his way to make sure he talked to you first. Maybe it was just your emotional state, but you were starting to think he liked you back.

Your thoughts of Steve were interrupted by the man himself. Steve removed the pillow from your face slowly. The way he treated you made it seem like with the smallest touch he would break you. You stared up at Steve, who was closer to you now since he had taken away the fluffy lump of protection that had hidden the blush still plastered on your face.

Gaining some courage you decided to test your theory, “Steve do you like me?” you asked. He didn’t hesitate when he answered your question, “Of course I like you Y/n.” He said. You nodded and thought about what you should do next, you should have phrased that differently.

He was right there, so close to your face. You slowly got closer to him, before filling the space and kissing him on the lips quickly. When you pulled away, you noticed Steve’s face was completely red. “Oh… that’s what you meant.” he said as he looked at you.

You apologized, realizing that you had made things awkward. Steve shook his head, “No, please don’t apologize. Y/n what I should have said earlier is that I don’t just like you… I love you.” He confessed, face still red.

All you could do was smile. Steve smiled back at you. You laid back down on your bed, patting the space next to you. “Can we... cuddle?” You asked, giving him puppy-dog eyes. Steve couldn’t say no to that. He laid down next to you and you immediately wrapped your arms around him. You closed your eyes, feeling completely relaxed as he wrapped one of his arms around you. Steve started to play with your hair as well. You watched as Steve fell asleep next to you. The only thing you could think of at his sight was how you were so lucky to have someone as beautiful as you loving him back.

- Mod Bluckly Bjarnes

[eireaids]

[ruiard]

Bjarne Bare - Wind Study 1, 2 & 3

C-print on Fuji archival paper, 59 3/5 × 39 4/5 in. / 151.5 × 101 cm, 2015

[phoebewelmanwhitman]

Freedom of mind while perceiving a photograph is essential today, as we live in a culture where photography appears everywhere. Today, photography is a concubine, used without question to promote ideas. Recent generations of photographers have tried to reinvent the medium,, with the maximalist use of the photographer image and large-scale productions. However, simultaneously, mobile phones and the Internet have made photography more accessible then ever, resulting in the loss of identity for the medium. We hardly think of what photographs are, but simply accept the fact that they exist. rarely do we contemplate the meaning of this medium that exists to freeze time, although time is unstoppable. The magic of the medium has been forgotten. It is time to remember what the photograph does for us, and what possibilities it still holds for suture generations. Photography is not dead; its just exhausted.

Bjarne Bare

Entering a Site of Production

MoDERNISM MACHINE

The book accompanies the exhibition project titled MoDERNISM MACHINE.

Contributors: Clémentine Deliss, Bjarne Bare, Theodor Barth, Ina Blom, Victor Boullet, Dag Erik Elgin, Tone Hansen, Milena Hoegsberg, Henrik M. Jahnsen, Maria Lind, Mari Opsahl, Christian Norberg-Schulz.

Editors: Tone Hansen, Dag Erik Elgin Editorial board: Bjarne Bare, Milena Hoegsberg, Henrik M. Jahnsen, Mari Opsahl Photo editor: Bjarne Bare

[halforc-mercenary]

𝔖𝔦𝔡𝔢 -ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰

A collection or reappearing Characters who are connected to Mar. 

Margvis Flokadottir Muthand- Margvis was a Soldier who died before Mars Birth in  war as she protected a group of refugees from  Orcrobbers. The refugees were saved and later Margvis was given the honorific “Muthand” by them. She earned the honorific “Muthand” after her death and the rest of the family took this second surename since it is never bad to be named after a “hero”. In the House of the Chieftain in Mars Homevillage  there is a painting of Margvis and the refugees in the “history” of the village and its people on the houses walls. Mar always felt that the name “Margvis” always belonged more to her grandmother than it belonged to her (and that she could never live up to her grandmothers name)  and therefor later kept going with ‘ Mar Mutthand’ instead of Margvis Helasdottir Muthand. Mar is told that she looks like Margvis in everything but her height and her orcish features. 

Tonda Martens- Helas father, Margvis husband and Mars Grandfather. He was born and lived until his Adulthood in the kingdom of Lordearon. Mar would speak about him over her grave. She still fears him. He died in Theramore. 

Hela Tondasdottir- Mars mother. A character from which Mar knows very much of but eventually also nothing, because all she ever had been told about her had been from her relatives who had painted her in a certaine Light. She was a perfect student, but loved to run outside and skip lessons. She loved her family and village, but planned to immigrate from Arathi to Lordearon to serve a Noble as a guard as soon as she had saved enough money. She was a sweet girl with so many talents, but had a horrible temper.  She wanted to be a Healer, but loved to fight with a axe in each hand. Mar does not know what to think of her and is too scared to ask.   

Hedwig Iesenhart- Hedwig was Mars Fostress and Mother-Figure. In her Youth she had lived in Dalaran to study Magic and eventually returned to her Homevillage to work as a Soldier. She was a good friend of Mars Grandmother Margvis and gave Mar her Milkname after said Grandmother. By the time Mar was born Hedwig had already two adult Daughters and had recently divorced her Husband. Hedwig was part of the Stromgarde Brigade.  She died in Theramore. 

Ansgar Flokasen- Ansgar was the twelve years younger Brother of Mars Grandmother, as between those two characters had been only one other  child that had survived to adulthood. He had two sons: Stascko and Lyschko. His Wife was Brigitte. Ansgar took Mar in as a charge in his household, where Hedwig took her in as her child. Ansgar was a scribe and teached Mar his profession. Ansgar was part of the Stromgarde Brigade. He died in Theramore. 

Brigitte- Brigitte or “Brig”  was the Mother of Staschko and Lyschko and Ansgars wife. She was born and grew up in the Kingdom of Alterac. Mar mostly remembers her as her teaching Mar Archery and that she had put a very heavy longbow on the wall of her Home as a trophy from which Mar always thought it was too heavy to draw until Brigitte actually did so one time. Brigitte was part of teh Stromgarde Brigade, a Archer. She died in Theramore.  Floki Asksen- Mars maternal greatgrandfather.  Mar only knows about him that he, as his names obviously suggests, had very, very, very curly hair. His wifes name was Hjördis and if Mar is ever so utterly wrathful that she would go back in her line to proof a point ( I am Mar[gvis] daughter of Hela, Hela daughter of Margvis, Margvis daughter of Hjördis....etc ..) , she usually refers to Hjördis and not Floki.  (If Mar is especially pissed, she will go back to the first Trollwar with her line. At that point one should better run). 

Staschko Ansgarsen- Staschko was Brigitte and Ansgars first son, who stayed in Arathi during the third war and became a Soldier in the Refugee point until he was killed when Galen Trollbane was murdered and turned into a Forsaken. Staschko, brought back himself as a Forsaken, terrorized his Homevillage with a group of other undead Soldiers and had planned to kill the villagers and turn them into Forsaken for Trollbanes Kingdom. Mar eventually killed him. Staschko was Thores best friend and later  Life-Partner.

Lyschko Ansgarsen- He was the second son of Ansgar and Brigitte and only a few months older than Mar, so they grew up together from the crib. Where Stascko was loud and attentionseeking, Lyschko was shy and quiet. He was never noticed between Staschko demanding attention and Mar beeing always kept a very close eye due to keep her out of danger. Lyschko was taken along by Andrusch Heim as a Squire in the Stromgarde Brigade along with Mar. In Theramore Lyschko joined the Cityguard and, away from his Brother and Mar bloomed up to be a quiet but well loved young man. Lyschko died in Theramore. Mar remebers him beeing sweet, quiet and kind as she had never met him in his later years.  Thore Karlsen- Thore [speak: TorE ] is the best friend from Mars late second Cousin Staschko and was his Lover before Stascko died. Thore is the son of the Chieftain in Mars Homevillage. He had been a Soldier in the Refugee Point in the Ararthi Highland, but fled to protect his Homevillage when Galen Trollbane was brought back as a Forsaken. Since than he acts as a advisor for his father . If one wants to be a ninch-pincher then Thore and his Mother are the people who are the closest Bloodrelatives Mar still has, as Thore and Mars greatgrandfathers were siblings (Floki and his sister). 

 Yubei Shardrunner- He is a Warsong Orc, who is only two years younger than Mar. She met him in Northrend where he had been part of a Mercenarygroup which she later joined and since then they had been in contact. At that point Yubei had put ticks on Mars head, which had lead to her needing to be shaved bald and for that she had beat Yubei so ruthlessly that one of his tusks had broken off. Yubei is the person Mar would title her best friend. In the last years Yubei trains in beeing a Windwalker Monk, occasionally even as a Mistweaver when he has to patch up Mar. Occasionally as in: Very often.  Because Mar is considerably shorter than Yubei, he views her as exceptionally portable.  Yubei  has a bad habit of just lifting Mar up out of the blue and carrying her around aimlessly.  He views himself as doting, loving, and nurturing when in reality he is a damn nuisance.  They usually send eachother letters at least each month to make sure the other is still alive and to keep eachother informed about potential jobs. 

Ahnu Worgfury- He was Yubeis friend and part of the same Mercenarygroup as Mar, to whom he really fast warmed up to. He patiently smoothed out her broken Orcish over Months. Ahnu died in Northrend, a topic which Mar will not talk, mention or even think about. Mar took his Armor and belongings and brought them back to his Parents and his younger Brothers. 

Drakash and Rakash Worgfury- They are twins and the younger brothers of Ahnu. Their Mother is Granta, a shaman. Before the cataclysm Mar brought Ahnus Belongings back to Granta and stayed in the Warsong Camp to tell the Boys about their older Brothers  Adventures and since Mar had if possible left out the very bad parts of beeing a Mercenary and adventurer, the two boys are as now young adults ready to become themself adventurers. At the moment they study Magic in Silvermoon, Mar refers to them as her younger “halfbrothers” or younger brothers if she is especially loving. Usually it is Drakash who has the bad ideas and Rakash who is in the place to make sure Drakash will not set himself on fire.  They had fought in the battle for Undercity since when Rakash considers to stop the studying of Magic and become a Healer instead, which would be the first time the brothers would not walk a path together. 

Tjark Evers - (Speak. Jark) He is a young Halfelf, who is around fourteen years old. Tjark is a Merchants apprentice and spends his summers following his Teacher on ships as a Mose from harbour to Harbour, and his winters in a Tradingstation, going to school. Mar had met Tjark in Lady Topalidous Tradingstation in Stormwind and she usually checks on him every Winter. 

There are a few other characters of Ansgars Household which are also mentioned as Mar considers them familymembers:

Thorgal- A old man who had came back from decades as a Soldier in a Noblemans service in Westfall only to find his home and village eradicated by a sickness. With no family left he became a Thrall in Ansgars Household so Ansgars family would take care of him when he would grew old. He survived Theramore and now lives without Mar knowing in Stormwind. Mar remembers that she had often helped Thorgal in his garden and he had explained her very patiently which herb and vegetable he used and how. 

Andrusch Heim- He was a young man who originally immigrated from Alterac. His Hometown had been eradicted by a sickness, which he had only barely survived. His face and body had been corroded by poxscars and out of fear that he would be  still carrier of the sickness, he had never dared to touch anyone without gloves and was very uncomfortable with beeing touched. Mar took over his habit of beeing very uncomfortable when touching someone without gloves or let alone, beeing touched. Ansgar took Andrusch in in his Household so Andrusch would take Lyschko and Mar over as his Squires. Later he was part of the Stromgarde Brigade, taking the children with him as his Squires and even more later he and Lyschko travled through the Outland and Northrend together as Soldiers. Andrusch added his old shield to Mars dowry chest. He died in Theramore.

Saskia- A woman who had before marrying her late Husband Bjarne lived in Ansgars household as a thrall to save money so she and Bjarne could eventually buy themselfs a house and have a own Household. As Bjarne died in Theramore, Saskia survived and now lives together with Thorgal in Stormwind. Saskia was teached along Mar about Herbalism and often took care of the girl, when Hedwig was not around. Mar had always been eager to help Saskia cooking. Saskia and Thorgal do not know that Mar is alive. 

[wiadomosciprasowe]

Rasfare fra bygårdstak - unngå istapper i hodet

https://www.y6.no/rasfare-fra-bygardstak-unnga-istapper-i-hodet/

Rasfare fra bygårdstak - unngå istapper i hodet

Dato: 24-01-2018 09:10 CET Opprinnelig tittel på pressemeldingen: Rasfare fra bygårdstak – unngå istapper i hodet Kategori: , Rasfare Bygårder Bygninger

Mildværet har kommet flere steder, og istapper vil deise i bakken fra stor høyde. Gjensidige er bekymret for uhell.

– En istapp i hodet kan føre til store skader, sier kommunikasjonssjef Bjarne Rysstad i Gjensidige. De oppfordrer fotgjengere om å ta sine forholdsregler.

– Det er viktig at fotgjengere tar fareskilt på alvor, sier han.

Har du gått under et rasfareskilt de siste dagene?

– Det bør du unngå. Hvis du får en isklump i hodet kan du nemlig risikere å få mindre erstatning fordi du ikke tok fareskiltet på alvor, sier Rysstad. Se opp og vær forsiktig!

Det er svært viktig at gårdeiere er sitt ansvar bevisst. Det betyr skilting i akuttfasen, men ikke minst så fort som mulig får fjernet snø og istapper.  

Hva med forsikringen hvis ulykken er ute?

Dersom en fotgjenger får en isklump i hodet, blir det en vurdering om gårdeier kan bebreides Erstatningsansvaret for gårdeiere tar utgangspunkt i et alminnelig skyldansvar (subjektivt ansvar). Det betyr at gårdeier må kunne bebreides for at skaden oppstod I vurderingen av ansvaret, skilles det mellom personskade og tingskade. Aktsomhetsplikten er strengere ved personskade. Brudd på politivedtekter er viktig i vurderingen Hvis gårdeier ikke har satt opp rasfareskilt, vil det ofte være et tungtveiende argument for at gårdeier får erstatningansvaret Men det hjelper ikke å bare sette opp avvisere – gårdeier har også plikt til å få ryddet vekk snø og is så raskt som mulig Hvis det tar tid å få tak i ryddehjelp, vil gårdeiere vanligvis være unnskyldt Dersom gårdeier setter opp avvisere men ikke får ryddet bort snø og is, er det likevel ikke automatikk i at gårdeier får hele ansvaret Selv om man kan hevde at gårdeier har brutt sine plikter, vil andre mene at den som blir skadet selv har medvirket til skaden, ved å passere skiltet Da kan det bli avkortning i erstatningen som følge av medvirkning fra den skadde. Det betyr at gårdeier får ansvaret, men må erstatte mindre til den skadde Temaet gjelder både bygningseiers ansvarsforsikring, og personforsikring for den som får en istapp i hodet 

Kilde: Pressekontor Gjensidige Forsikring ASA – PRESSEMELDING –

————

Hashtags: # #Rasfare Bygårder Bygninger Rasfare Bygårder Bygninger

[norwegianbookofmormonfan]

Book of Mormon Denmark

[SPOILERS]

Part 4 of 5 (part 1, part 2, part 3 and 5)

2nd Act - first half

The band also wears white shirts, black ties and the mormon name tags

The guitarist comes up of the orchestra pit and plays his solo in the beginning of the second act

The snow globe is back 

The evil lamanite is played by one of the Ugandan ensemble (!!!)

Making Things Up Again

It is really warm in Uganda, everyone who’s listening to Cunningham are fanning themselves

Arnold gestures to his crotch when he talks about “AIDS and stuff”

The snow globe is still on stage during this number

Jesus takes off his wig and reveals that he is Cunningham’s father after singing his part he puts the wig back on and poses as Jesus

Nabulungi is typing down everything Cunningham says

When Cunningham “You shall not have sex with that infant” everyone in the snow globe throw their hands up in exasperation.

The Hobbits enter the snow globe

Moroni leans annoyed against the glass of the globe

Joseph gets angry when he’s supposed to have had sex with a frog

Gotswana has a pair of terrifying looking scissors 

Jesus nods in agreement that cutting off someones clitoris is against his wishes and looks ashamed that he didn’t say nothing about no clitoris and then is shocked when Cunningham says he turned people into frogs

Cunningham does the Vulcan salute

Spooky Mormon Hell Dream

Price was only 3 years old when he snuck down in the kitchen

The doughnut with maple glaze has been translated to a slice of bread with jam

Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck and Goofy show up

Mickey is holding a red balloon IT style

Donald whispers in Goofy’s ear and they start fondling Price, opening his pant zipper attaching him to a harness 

Mickey is the one talking, then he says “guess again” removes his head and reveals that he was Satan all along

Price is hoisted into the air

The devils wear suites and ties and has horns on their foreheads

There’s lots of fog and cool lighting that makes it hard to see

Hitler, Genghis Khan, Jack the Ripper and Bjarne Corydon wear giant heads 

Jesus laughs at Kevin

Price is dipped head first in a giant cup of coffee

There are two devils also flying around 

During the jazz part of the song they have put on these amazing glowing blue gloves that makes their jazz hands incredible.

McKinley is not in the dream

Waking up at the bus stop

McKinley gives Price chest compressions to wake him up

McKinley asking if he was in the hell dream isn’t as fun when he wasn’t there

McKinley helps Price to his feet, but drops him back on the ground when Cunningham says he has been with 10 eager Africans

When Price sings “something incredible” they look at him weirdly

All the elders chant “Cunningham” while leaving Price alone on stage

I Believe

Cunningham enters the stage on the back conveyor belt when Price sings how you can’t belive in it partway 

The General hushes the guards because he’s watching My Little Pony and drinking beer in an armchair placed on the conveyor belt

this makes the scene slowly move across the stage

He seems to think Kevin is funny when he stands in front of the TV singing to him

Kevin pokes the General’s nose when he sings “sharing my faith with you”

Kevin takes the Generals hand and gets him out of the chair

The soldiers drink the rest of the beer and takes out a pair of handcuffs 

The General puts on his sunglasses as if they were reading-glasses and starts reading the book of mormon while Kevin is singing

The soldiers grabs Kevin and handcuffs him to the table

The General and putting lube all over the book of mormon

they pull down Kevin’s pants exposing his bare ass

and get ready to insert the book just as the conveyor belt brings them off stage

Kevin’s “NOOO” echoes

[academy-x]

12 - 16

12 - did you enjoy any compulsory high school readings?

i dropped out of high school (so didnt read that many books) and also have horrible memory so i can barely remember what i read in high school (or peoples school). 

i remember thinking james joyce was like a shitty virginia woolf and that hemingway shoulda been a playwright bc his dialogue was the most interesting

oh when i was in 7th or 8th grade, we read 7.A by bjarne reuter (danish book) and it spooked me real bad but i enjoyed it

honestly most of my compulsory school reads were ok, theres not a lot i remember Hating but not a lot that stood out and i really enjoyed. 

16 - how many books have you read this year?

i dont remember. ummm like 2? i can only remember reading alls quiet on the western front (is that the title?? the ww1 book) and queen of attolia. and also comics and fanfiction. i must have read more than two books, thats ridiculous. but i cant remember. maybe i havent