#Don Helms

[dearyallfrommatt]

“Ballad Of Hank Williams“

If you knew me in high school, you probably heard this song dozens of times. It’s the closer on Bocephus’ 1981 album, The Pressure Is On. The album was a Number 6 country hit and produced two songs that would become Hank Williams Jr. staples: “All My Rowdy Friends (Have Settled Down)” and “A Country Boy Can Survive”. I’d argue it was his last great album, though it’d be a couple more years before he descended fully into self-parody.

The guy singing with him is Don Helms, who played steel guitar for Hank’s Drifting Cowboys. Apart from ol’ Hank’s lonesome voice, Don’s crying steel guitar is probably the most striking thing about the man’s sound, and he played on 10 of Hank’s 11 Number One hits.

He also put up with Hank’s shit for quite a while, and ol’ Hank was a world-class causer of shit back in the day. The mention of working for Hank Jr. refers to his time with the Cheatin’ Hearts, Rockin’ Randall’s early backing band. One can’t help but hear a wee bit of venom in Don’s lyrics. The melody is from the famous Jimmie Driftwood song “The Battle of New Orleans,” made a hit by Johnny Horton and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.

Dig it.

[dragon-deez-ballz]

um anyway this is an invitation to send any and all magical girl!dragon ball images you can find to me.if anybody can think of any off the top of their head

[mariocki]

Night Monster (1942)

"Why don't you have Millie do that, Miss Judd? That's a maid's work, not a housekeeper's. You needn't answer because I know the reason: that spot under your hand is blood and you didn't want anyone to know."

"Blood? Ridiculous."

"Yes, it is ridiculous. It couldn't be blood, but it is. I've seen those spots before and I've seen you trying to scrub them out because you knew what they were. Blood, the whole house reeks of it. The air is charged with death and hatred and something that's unclean!"

[rhapsodynew]

#Music and Musicians

Top 10 iconic singing drummers in the history of rock, striking with their skill.

Today I'm going to tell you about the guys who didn't just bang on the drums, but also sang in a way that rocked you. And you know, this is not a joke to you - try to beat a complex rhythm yourself and at the same time not lose the melody! It's like juggling burning torches and reciting poetry at the same time. But these virtuosos managed to do it with such ease, as if they were born with drumsticks in their hands and a microphone at their mouth. Well, are you ready to plunge into the world of rhythm and melody? Let's go!

Ringo Starr (The Beatles)

And now let's talk about our favorite Beatle, Ringo Starr. Oh, there were so many jokes about his game! And the guy, by the way, set the rhythm for an entire era. "With a Little Help from My Friends", "Octopus's Garden" - it's just some kind of holiday!

By the way, do you know the funny thing about Ringo? He's left-handed! But it plays on the usual right-hand installation. Can you imagine how he suffered at first? But now he has such a style that you can't confuse it with anyone.

Phil Collins (Genesis)

Let's start with Phil Collins. You know, this guy is a real jack of all trades! That's what I understand - talent!

Don Henley (Eagles)

And here's Don Henley, the voice of "Hotel California" how can you sing like that and still beat out such complex rhythms? Unsurprisingly, the Eagles have sold over 150 million albums.

Roger Taylor (Queen)

Now about Roger Taylor. This guy didn't just bang the drums at Queen, he also sang in a way that took your breath away. Have you heard his "I'm In Love With My Car"? He wrote it! And his parts in "Bohemian Rhapsody"? It's just fantastic!

Levon Helm (The Band)

Levon Helm... Oh, that voice! Listening to him, it feels like you're somewhere on the dusty road of the American South. His "The Weight" is just a time machine in the 60s! And all this without letting go of the drumsticks.

Here's my advice: find the album "The Band" from 1969. Turn it on, close your eyes, and you're already there-in Arkansas, among the cotton fields.

Peter Criss (Kiss)

Well, now let's talk about our "Cat Face" - Peter Criss! That's who really knew how to surprise. You know, usually this guy would hide behind his huge drum kit, but sometimes... bam! He would suddenly start singing, so much so that his jaw dropped. Take, for example, "Black Diamond". There, Peter not only beats out a rhythm that makes the floor shake, but also sings the chorus in his hoarse voice. And you know what? It turns out damn cool! And at concerts? Oh, he did wonders there. That's what I understand - talent in all fields.

Karen Carpenter (The Carpenters)

Karen Carpenter... That's a girl! The only one, by the way, on our list. You know, when I first heard her on the drums, I was very surprised. And when she sang, that's it, he was gone! Many professional musicians admired her talent as a drummer and vocalist.

Robert Wyatt (Soft Machine)

Listen, here's who I completely forgot about - Robert Wyatt from Soft Machine! Damn it, this dude is just something. One day I came across their album "Third", and there is such a song - "Moon in June". Oh my God, I almost fell off the stool! Imagine, Wyatt is not only playing the drums like crazy, but also sings the main vocals.

Dave Grohl (Nirvana, Foo Fighters)

Oh, guys, here comes our rock and roll multitouch - Dave Grohl! You know, I almost fell off my chair when I first saw this shaggy guy playing Nirvana drums, and then- bang! - and he's already the frontman of the Foo Fighters. But here's the funny thing: at concerts, sometimes it's like a magnet pulling him back to the drum kit. And then the real magic begins! You should have seen how he wields chopsticks and pulls his throat in "Sunday Rain" - just fire! Honestly, I don't even know if he's better at drums or his vocal cords.

And now let's take a look into the world of progressive metal with Brann Daylor from Mastodon. That's who the real drum virtuoso is! This guy manages not only to give out crazy rhythms, but also to sing at the same time in a way that takes your breath away.

Do you want to hear Brann in all his glory? Turn on "Oblivion" from the album "Crack the Skye". There he not only beats the most difficult rhythms, but also sings clean vocals, creating a stunning contrast with the growl of the main vocalist. And you know what? It just sounds cosmic!

[abs0luteb4stard]

W A T C H I N G

So far It's made references to Elvis' real friends, acquaintances, and historical figures:

Real Friends/Acquaintances:

Scatter (his real chimp pet!)

Dean Martin

Redd Foxx

Sammy Davis Jr.

Priscilla Presley (plays herself)

Young Kurt Russell

George Clinton (plays himself)

Others:

Robert Goulet (Elvis shot out his TV while watching him perform - real life story, lol)

Stanley Kubrick

Mary Tyler-Moore

George Lucas

The Beatles (played by Simon Pegg)

Jack Lord

Hervé Villechaize

Historical figures:

Richard Nixon

Charles Manson

Howard Hughes

Walter Cronkite

Timothy Leary

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have Phantom Love 2000

[lola-writes]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐈 ║ I. Adonis ║ Marcus Acacius x Hanno's sister!reader

➣ Deliciae Imperii -> Delights of the Empire

➣ Masterlist | Add yourself to my taglist | Ao3 | Ko-Fi

➣ Chapter II. | Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2,9k

Synopsis: As an esteemed warrior of the Numidian army, your world turns on its axis when you’re taken prisoner by the Romans. Ever since your stealth attack that nearly cost the General of the Roman army, Marcus Acacius, his life, he appears to have taken a special interest in you. Under his tutelage of swordplay and carnal things, you delve deeper into the heart of the Roman Empire, uncovering its instability, and Acacius’ true intentions with you…

Chapter Themes & Warnings: POV first person, use of y/n, blood, detailed descriptions of violence, terms of endearment (anaticula, Adonis), slavery, Roman history, vomiting, angst, swearing. See series masterlist for full themes & warnings!

Song: Fight for Survival – Klergy

a/n: The original plan was for this to be a oneshot, but in the end it seemed impossible. I've got a lot planned for this story. Hope you stay tuned! 🥰

Anaticula (duckling), Adonis (god of beauty and desire)

Poem by @fairytalesques

Enjoy the read!

Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

I am a rose unfurling, winter’s bloom. Poison dripping down my throat and out of my bladed fingers. I spin stars into black holes, drive monsters to extinction in the dead heat of summer. You ever stop to think what life could have been if the poison had been potent? A lifeline in the carnage. A blessing or a curse? The flower is now festering like a disease but with Adonis I’ll be safe, he keeps the antidote. 

The metallic tang of blood, thick and cloying, hung heavy in the humid air, a shroud of death as thick as smoke. It was a symphony of war, conducted by the piercing shrieks of the wounded and the barked commands of the officers. A cacophony that blurred my senses as I moved with deadly precision through a haze of silver and red.

I fought with the savage efficiency of a wild animal, yet my kills were clean and quiet, each motion honed by years of training under Hanno's tutelage. My vision tunneled to a singular, deadly focus – the annhilation of the Roman usurpers by any means necessary. In this moment, I was a force of nature, an instrument of retribution. I would purge the land of their corrupted touch if I were to die trying.

The enemy pressed on, a relentless tide. For every ten I felled, another twenty rose to take their place. Yet somehow, the more I fought, the stronger I became, as though the adrenaline that infiltrated my every tissue contained a potent elixir that invigorated my muscles and dulled their exertion. 

Clashing blades rang in the air. Our two armies mingled near indistinguishably; clanging, crunshing and screaming. It would be difficult to tell friend from foe, if it weren’t for the Romans distinctive galeas, the red fur frilling atop the silver helms like beckoning targets. 

Just then, the crowd parted like clouds from the sun, unveiling a figure descending the battlement steps, a silhouette of lethal grace. Donning a sable breast plate emblazoned by Sol, sprawling across his chest with a douzen golden rays, he moved with the effortless grace of a dancer, his blade a blur of silver death, his countenance molded into a rigid canvas of authority. A retinue of red fringed galeas encircled him, their bodies his shields, their presence a testament to his rank. 

My gaze fixed him through the crowd as the next wave of men in their peculiar-looking helmets came charging at me. I ducked, slicing open the patellas of the first two, making them buckle in the sand. The third I dodged, sidestepping before plunging my blade into his brachial plexus. The fourth I parried, our blades screeching in unison, before I kicked under his flared skirt. There wasn’t much fight left in him after that.      

Jubartha’s words echoed in my mind as I tracked the approaching entourage, “Take out the leader of your enemy, and it matters not how much blood stains your sword.”

He moved fluidly like a windless sea. His spatha whipped around him, trailing shadows in the dust-ridden air, splattering the sand with blood. His expression was a paradox. As though he would not rest until Rome had pocketed another conquest, while simultaneously longing for a different fate entirely.

Crimson trailed around him like crushed punica granatum. None breached the shield of bodies surrounding him, and those who tried did not emerge alive, like prey entering a lion’s den. 

I caught a glimpse of Hanno and Jubartha atop the parapet, fending off the ruthless wave from the assaulting sea. The walls had been breached, our numbers were dwindling. A sense of desperation seized me, a reckless courage driving me forward.  

There was but one choice at my disposal.

I sprinted up the steps of the opposite parapet, scaling the heights with desperate urgency. Ducking behind a wooden pole, I dashed across the platform until I reached its bosom. I leaned out over its edifice, where down below, a second protective roof had been built. I started the climb downward, the splintering wood tearing at my hands like an angry cat. I landed on the roof with a thud and crouched towards the edge. Our men were still charging through the opening of the parapet, but before I knew it, they began to slow, getting knocked back by the shield wall of fearsome Roman guards. I rose to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, adrenaline surging through my bloodstream. My hand found the hilt of my sword and clasped it into place. For what I was about to do, risking becoming unarmed was to invite my doom.

The chaotic shadowy flare of guards flanking the steady shadow of an unyielding assassin grew in the sand below. I filled my lungs, washing out the biting fear of death creeping around the edges. 

A warrior’s oath echoed in my mind: I am Numidia. 

I dipped, toes to the edge. A head of dark and silver emerged below. 

What could go wrong?

I leapt. 

The fall felt decelerated, as if in a dream, and all surrounding noise faded underwater. My feet met his back, and a heavy grunt of startlement escaped him as he fell forward. His body broke my fall, and I rolled with the force of the impact, swiftly regaining my footing as I turned to face him. Dazed for but a second, his face dusted with sand, he grappled for his sword. But before he managed to get a proper grasp of the hilt, I pressed my boot atop his knuckles. He groaned in frustration behind gritted teeth. The next second, my one hand had clasped the knife from my boot, while the other had gathered a fistful of his hair and snatched him backward. 

In the third second, my blade was poised at his throat, ready to claim his life when, for reasons unexplained, the edge paused in his skin. 

In the fourth second, I had met his eyes, and an unfamilliar current passed down my spine. They were big, and brown, and full of contradictions, staring up at me with equal surprise, malice, and admiration. But no fear. His chest was heaving. His hair was a full, tangled mess of black and silver beneath my fingers, textured from the unsettled sand. The strands of silver had leaked into his beard which covered his dark, dirt-and blood-spattered complexion. His nose was sharp, angled like the limb of a bow, and his lips were slightly parted from gnashed teeth. The wound I had inflicted seemed to defy the vision of him I had before me, bleeding red but ichor. 

In the fifth second his resistance faltered, his head growing heavy against me. But before I could savour my victory, a sharp blow clattered my teeth, and suddenly my body was not my own. My vision blurred, my ears buzzed, and my fingers loosened the grip of the knife, no matter how hard I fought against it. 

In the sixth second, I was laying in the sand, grasping for consciousness. I thought I could hear Hanno screaming in the distance, but it was just beneath the surface. Gathering the last ounces of strength I had left I reached for the blade laying inches away. The contours of Adonis hovered over me, as one of the guards kicked my weapon out of reach. My other hand dragged itself to my waist, half-limb, seeking to undo the clasp to my sword.

“Tsk tsk tsk...” Adonis clicked his tongue. I winced as his boot came down on my hand, pressing down. “You have some fight in you, anaticula,” his voice, laced with what I would percieve as… concern, circulated around my head like a distant echo. “Grab her.” The words consumed me, nuzzling my cognisance like a warm blanket, and as I lifted off the ground, I faded into oblivion. 

_

Vae victis. Woe to the vanquished. 

The declaration travelled with me between the realms of my unconsciousness, followed by the distant wails of bereaved mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. 

I awoke to the comforting crackle of the fire we used to cook our supper. The air was thick with the scent of fresh fish, and the vague neigh of my stallion drifted in from outside. I sighed, nuzzling my face into the pillow, and was captivated by the unfamiliar softness of it. Something was different. The ground beneath me seemed to shift and sway, and as I opened my eyes, the pillow under my cheek was foreign to me – vibrant with patterns winding around the fabric like climbing vines.

Reality slowly dawned. I was not home. And the crackle of the fire and the neighing from my stallion was in fact the creaking and squeaking of ship timbers. 

I groaned as a sharp pain lanced through my skull. Everything came back to me. The Roman invasion. The battle. The blow to the head. Adonis … 

My breath stilled when I met his gaze across the room. Clad in the same sable armor and a royal scarlet cape, he was seated at the head of a table bedecked in plates of fish, cheese, fruit and caraffes of wine. He held my stare with a distant look of interest, rolling a purple grape between his fingers before plopping it into his mouth, his jaw clenching and unclenching. 

The throbbing pain pulsed in my temple in tune with my heart as I sat up on the setee. Sludge stuck to my thoughts and it felt as though my center of gravity was off the way the room kept rocking.

“Easy,” came his voice, a low rumble. His chewing ceased, his movements stilled, as if ready to rise in haste.

The ship’s rhythmic rocking intensified, the sound of waves lapping against the hull growing louder. A cold sweat broke out on my brow. My breathing surged and grew ragged, trying to subdue the rolling sense of nausea consuming me. 

But it was futile.

With a violent shudder, I retched, the contents of my stomach emptying onto the wooden planks.

I stared blankly at my mess, a strange blend of satisfaction and shame washing over me. Relishing at the thought of having defiled the ship of the Roman usurpers, I was humbled by doing so in front of the man who I failed to kill. My guts were ready to spill again at the very thought.

His chair creaked against the floor as he rose. I only saw his legs as he approached, dropping to his haunches in front of me – in my vomit, and I recoiled, equally to his sudden advance as to the indignity of it. He moved with intent, the scarlet cape pooled around him, and I could not help but feel intimidated. It was like he didn’t know what he was standing in. Or rather, didn’t care. Furthermore, based off his attire alone, he was too high in station to be on his knees for a commoner like me. Even less, kneeling in a commoner’s bodily fluid. 

He was so cool and calculated, from how he moved to how his gaze settled on mine, though something alive played in his dark brown eyes. Something that could snap at any second. His complexion was still riddled with dried dirt and blood from the battle, and the cut in his neck had leaked down his throat like spilt ink. 

I knew not if it was the sudden uprising of nerves, his closeness, or a result of the blow to my head, but the words slipped past my lips without thought. “You’re a truly terrible commander.” I dried the dribble off my chin with the back of my hand.

A furrow etched between his brows and genuine concern flickered in his eyes, like he was contemplating whether it might be true. “I conquered your city,” he parried.

“I nearly killed you,” I retorted.

A hint of malice clouded his features. “Nearly.” His tone of voice gathered timber; that the word came off as a threat. 

He stared at me. The urge to look away was so strong it itched beneath my skin. He expected me to. Though something foreign and astute made me persevere. Holding eye contact with him felt like a deadly game. But it also evoked a whisper of adrenaline, as warm as spiced wine. 

Finally, his eyes drifted downward to the pool of vomit at his feet. “I’ll have someone clean this up,” he said, before leaning forward and putting his arms around me. 

Adrenaline shot through me like a violent storm, and I pushed him away instinctively. His face was a mask of indifference, and he reached for me again, and this time he didn’t let go, no matter how hard I fought him. He carried me up off the settee as I kicked, squealed, grunted and clawed. My mind raced with the thoughts of what he might do to me. His breast plate was ice cold against my skin, but I was too frantic to notice. I came to my senses once he dropped me down in a chair next to the table. He glared at me, clearly unimpressed by my defiance, before grabbing a plate off the table, methodically filling it with a chaotic assortment.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, breaking off a twig of grapes as a final touch before serving it to me, rounding the table to seat himself.

I simply gaped at him, too bewildered to respond. My chest heaved from exertion, my tense body clutching onto the wood of the chair, trembling slightly from the waning adrenaline spike.

“You need not fear me, anaticula,” he soothed. His voice was a strange blend of velvet and steel, a combination I believed to be uniquely his; calming and unsettling me in equal measure. And despite the ingrained hatred I harbored towards his people, an inexplicable, vexing trust for him began to bloom within me.

“I am General Marcus Acacius,” he boomed, as though I would have trouble hearing him from across the table. Where he came from, I’d wager men stood to attention at the mere mention of him, but I remained indifferent. Belittling him was all the power I had.

His name grew heavy in the air, silence stretching. I’d expected him to explain my fate next. That I would be sold as a slave for men to plunder as they wished, or perhaps executed for having his life at my disposal. Perhaps he’d do it himself.

“What do I call you?” he asked finally.

“Whyever does that matter?” I snapped.

“Is it so strange to wish to know the name of the woman who nearly killed me?” His voice dipped at the very mention of it. 

“I’ll be dead soon enough,” I said with feigned indifference. Acacius stiffened, watching me carefully. “Or if you do not kill me, I’d kill myself before I ever become a slave.” I watched him relax slightly and continue his meal.

“That’s not going to happen,” he muttered inbetween chews.

My gut flared with anticipation, “Which part?” I demanded.

He looked up at me. “What’s your name?” he asked, deliberately ignoring my question. 

“Y/N,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper. 

He repeated my name, the sound rolling off his tongue like honey while he fixed me with his eyes dark like amber. I grew strangely warm and restless, and a sudden urge to flee seized me, a wild beast gnawing at my nerves. 

“Where is my brother?” I blurted out, rather raggedly, a note of desperation creeping in, but as I did, I recalled I had not seen Hanno since the start of the battle. Was he even alive?

“Your brother?” he asked, like the notion I’d have a family was aberrant to him, a fleeting spark of uncertainty passing through his eyes. He swallowed sharply, picking at the salted fish on his plate. “With the other prisoners,” he muttered.

“So,” I began, molding myself out of the rigid posture I had assumed, and leaned forward. “Why am I here?” I asked, casting a disapproving look around his opulent cabin.

He stopped and fixed me with a gaze ice-cold. “For safe keeping,” he said sternly. “You nearly killed me today, Y/N. I wouldn’t want to find out what else you’re capable of.”

Vague images flickered before my eyes – chaos, then darkness. “You talk as if it’s some big feat,” I scoffed.

His eyes, twin pools of lethal venom, bored into me. “I assure you,” he hissed, resting his bracers against the edge of the table, a hint of admonition lingering in his voice, “It is.”

My face heated at the thought of having impressed him, but the word ‘nearly’ was a nettlesome creature.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue.

Acacius cocked his brows in recognition and poured wine. “Why didn’t you?” he asked, raising the cup to his lips. 

The question caught me off guard, and a bitter taste filled my mouth. I recalled myself hesitating. I had the blade at his throat. I could have ended the battle there and then, declared Numidia victorious against the power of Rome. But I couldn’t do it. 

“I-,” I don’t know, I thought. 

A sharp knock on the door shattered the silence, and a sentry entered the room, bowing slightly. “General Acacius,” he spoke, his voice laced with duty and reverence. “Rome awaits.” 

Chapter II. | Series Masterlist | Chapter III

Make sure to like and reblog if you enjoyed this chapter, thank you! 🥰

Tag list: @asgardiandreams98 @cumbrebetch @gemnetjournal @thanyatargaryen @cathsteen @kahokuloa @lulu-ka @mys2425 @vestafir @sharp-skates @vaishnavi0305 @starrgurl46 @theplumsoldier @choppedkidhumanoidghost @k4inka @lumpatto @ghoulazrael @bangchansmami @emmalyn2233 @pm0544 @precious14 @calaerdes @thelibrarywhore @loganskittycatears @twilight-dryad @tatiana-johnson @luna2034 @freshwinnerauthorllama @pascalislove @bekscameron @jujustrickland-blog @ladyshrike @elliebelli @hooomansstuff @liciafonseca @tmkdorottya @mirimunchkin @skyward55 @myheadspaceisuseless @snowflorets @harrysrosetatto @dindjarinsproperty @sayuri9908 @honey-lemon @d0uwannkn0w @sweetperfectioncloud @greta-norrland @rav3n-pascal22 @queenmariexx @humongouswonderlandqueen @vanessajoy143 @elliskies

[fanaticsnail]

Dreaming of You

Series Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,800+

Synopsis: There was something not right about this scenario. Fear gripped you as you lay helpless and quivering beneath a figure you had never met. Fear gripped you, and the cusps of reality slipped further from you the deeper you gave in to his motions.

Themes: Accursed Prince Loki x afab!reader, dub con, non con hinted, size difference: extra large, Elbaf spoiler warning, NSFW, 18+, MDNI, smut, nightmares, terror themes, threats, violence threatened, fear, enemies that remain enemies.

Notes: Art by @skullfacedlady, to whom this fic is dedicated to because she needs more content with this beautiful, terrifying man. It is also not how I regularly write this little series, but I couldn't resist a little twist because my hand slipped. Position also heavily inspired by @don-mellow's art on Twitter (NSFW link). Two beautiful artists making me fall in love with this accursed prince, and it's a long way to tumble.

The atmosphere was sparsely illuminated by dull tongues of fire. Flickering against the cobblestone and revealing the giant’s mane and helm, a sinister grin split up his cheeks as he stooped below towards your small, quivering frame.

“Poor tiny human,” he purrs down at you, his voice reverberating in the chasms of your chest and causing your lips to quiver in fright. “All afraid and shaking.”

The rattles of the chains shackling his wrists was the only forewarning he gave before your clothes were split and shredded by one deliberate swipe. Fear gripped you as you were now bare before the giant, your eyes widening and flesh puckering in the cool of the air.

“No need for that face,” he chuckled, reaching down and expelling his cock from its bonds in his leathery pants. The tip was blushed a pretty hue of red, now revealed with a crude slap of his shaft springing up and catching on his stomach. “I have no intention of hurting my little plaything. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

The shudder in your body was the only response you made, your voice physically unable to speak or scream at the man to halt his actions. He dove down towards you, throat chuckling as a hefty wave of his warm breath met your flushed skin.

“I just want a look,” he growled in a deep baritone, “Open your legs for me, or I will open them for you. Trust, plaything, the former would be far more pleasant for you. Ankles to your ass, knees to the side. Now.”

A sob hitched in your throat as you made to move your body. As he said, you drew your feet slowly up to the bottom of your ass and butterflied your knees out to the sides. Turning your face away from him, you clenched your eyes shut and whimpered as you felt the huffs of his breath journey ever closer.

“Would you look at that, wee plaything,” his voice held a tone of teasing to it, “Such a pretty, flushed cunt all there for the taking.”

You screamed at him internally, pleading and begging for him to not attempt to put his cock inside you. It would kill you, given the fact his cock was larger than the size of you in your entirety.

His meaty fingers brushed against your side, tickling you with his teasing advances. You flinched away from his touch, but it only made him all the more enthusiastic about your little display. Drawing his hand up your torso, he used one hand to draw up both of your wrists to pin above your head by a single index finger.

“You know when I said ‘I just want a look’ just now?” he growled, stooping ever closer to you and dragging his whiskered chin over your naked chest.

“I lied.”

Just as you opened your eyes and began to make a motion to scream at him to halt, his fat tongue fled from his lips and licked a long stripe from your cunt up to your head. The slippery saliva dampened your pores, nipples pebbling as his hot breath cooled your skin when impacting the stripe. Your legs threatened to close to avoid the cold, but that thought was all but sprung from your head when his tongue returned to you.

Through panted, muffled breaths, the larger giant growled at you as he drew his slippery organ up and down your body.

“If you close your legs, plaything,” he mouthed at your skin, taking your cunt and ass into his mouth and flicking his tongue in messy circles behind his lips, “I'll bite the fucking things off. Leave them parted.”

You screamed internally at the thought, actions frozen in place as your thighs and knees became damp within the giant’s mouth. His smile only grew when he tasted your arousal beginning to pool over his tongue. Drawing your ass away from his mouth, he focussed the attention of his tongue against your slit: flicking his larger tongue against your clit to the best of his focussed abilities.

His tongue was porous, feeling each dip and elevation due to the insane size difference. It was larger than any cock you had seen in the past. The tip alone, now pointed and focussed, being of greater size than any toy you had found for yourself.

While pinning you with one hand, he reached his cock and began pumping it below you both. The drooling cock head twitched with every down thrust, the veins flooding his shaft with desire only swelling his need for you.

“That's it,” he praised you, the vibrations of his voice causing you to wail and arch your back towards his touch, “Give in to it. I'm not going to stop. Too much fun to be had between us, plaything.”

You felt the first cusps of ecstasy call to you, tingling in your toes and swelling within your chest. The muted moans and cries fleeing your lips held a gloomy echo, your eyes refusing to make contact with the beast lurking below you as he consumed your lust and drove you off the cusps of insanity.

“I can feel how close you are,” he chuckled, fucking his fist by bucking his hips down, “Let me hear you scream for me.” His thrusts were as manic as his tongue continued to flicker and swirl against your cunt.

Instead of maintaining focus of simply the tip of his tongue alone, he moved back to lengthy stripes, dressing your ass, cunt, and chest in a marriage of his saliva and your arousal each time.

It felt wrong on more levels than simply one. This giant’s touch, the way you couldn't speak, how you had no true control over yourself or how you responded to his words or actions, it was all too wrong. Just as you shook your head to attempt to free you of this internal line of questioning, your stomach clenched and sparks began to fly behind your eyes.

Euphoria bloomed in your stomach and flooded your veins with sparks and lightning. Releasing your ecstasy over the giant's tongue while screaming out in bliss, the giant moaned and chuckled down at you. Lulling and lapping, he greedily overstimulated you while you rode the waves of your high.

Pulling away, a large string of saliva connected his tongue to your cunt while he rose away from your panting and heaving form. Pumping his cock viciously, his tip began to bubble pearls of precum into his fist.

“What a pretty plaything,” he groaned out for you, his voice picking up in the corners of his throat, “I'm going to paint you to claim as mine. Look up at me now, plaything.”

His demands had your eyes meeting with the concealed gaze behind cream-coloured bandages, before your vision blurred by a crude splash of his cum meeting your face. Ropes of hot white uncoiled and burned against your head, torso, thighs, and cunt: almost drowning you in the sheer size of his load. Coughing and spluttering was all you could do as the giant barked out a cackled string of laughter.

“We are going to have so much fun together,” the giant’s voice echoed within your ears, muffled by viscous cum flooding your features.

With a fit of fiery adrenaline, you tore your hands away from his grip and sat upright. Eyes wide and manic, you continued on to release a blood curdling scream that rang throughout your quarters. Body covered in sweat, breath hitching in fear, undergarments covered with your sticky release, your eyes immediately found the door as it flung wide.

Immediately springing towards you, hands of rubber surrounded your form and coiled around you. The familiar feeling of your captain surrounding you was not unwelcome. Your arms immediately found their way to wrap around his back and bury your head in the crook of his neck.

“I couldn't move, I couldn't speak,” you sobbed manickly, curling into the embrace with your tears dampening his red best, “I was stuck, helpless, afraid. I couldn't-.”

“-Shh,” he hushed you, speaking your name slowly and quietly as he nuzzled against your head, “I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Just breathe with me, okay? Just in and out slowly. Just like you're smelling some of Sanji’s barbeque and blowing on it because the meat’s too hot.”

In your manic state, you manage to chuckle through the tears as your captain empathetically mirrored your laughter. He tightened the grip he had on you, squeezing his eyes shut and calming himself down alongside you.

He was usually a deep sleeper, but there was something about the way you screamed that seemed all too familiar to him. The helplessness, the fear, the torment. It was not a good scream to hear from anyone, least of all from his counsellor.

He invited you to serve on his ship because you had a natural gift. He couldn't put a name to it, nor could you, but you seemed to harbor a great amount of knowledge of decisions that lead to the best and worse outcomes in any given situation. Similarly to the way Nami can read the weather, you have this intuition regarding the future, knowing what would come to pass before it ever occured.

It doesn't happen often, not ever to this degree, and it could've simply been a nightmare: but it was so vivid, it caused you such great distress. Not only the vision itself, but the content of it. It was like you were trapped, and there was no one there to save you.

“When you're ready, and if you're able,” Luffy whispered against your ear, still trying to have you breathe with him with his arms surrounding you, “Tell me what happened. I'll listen, no matter if it was just a sea cow eating a part of The Sunny.”

He pulled away from your head, peering down and beaming at you with a smile. You gazed up at him through damp lashes and felt your breath control return to you. At the door to your quarters, the remainder of the crew stood in a variety of dress: from pajamas to their regular clothes, they all stood waiting for your words to come to you.

“It was a giant,” you whimpered softly, design your eyes between the two caramel orbs harboring nothing but love and understanding down at you, “And there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

“We've fought giants before,” Luffy nodded down at you, his brilliant grin still shining down on you as he smoothed your scalp with his hand, “Nothing we can't handle. We'll be right there with you, fighting the thing to the death. You'll see.” He whispered your name, holding you close and nodding down.

“That's just the thing, Captain,” you whispered back at him, breath as chilled as the grave and teeth chattering with your confession.

“You weren't there.”

“I'll see you soon, little plaything.”

Deep within the bowels of Elbaf, the larger giant chuckled with a large grin splitting up his cheeks. Cum covering his his belly, sheet discarded alongside his pants hanging limply off his ankles, chains rattling on his wrists, he continued to bark out laughter as he drew his fingers and palm over his sticky release.

Gathering the seed in the pads of his fingertips and smearing it over his flesh, he sighed out with a touch of whimsy in his tone.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

didn’t realize this was the liberal arts

Jason goes to college. You’re there. And then you show up in his nightlife, which throws him for a loop.

I wish I could tell you what this is but I can’t. i set out to write a meet cute. that's not what happened. Jason is a sad little dude. You’re in one of his college classes, but don’t get the idea that you’re nice about it.

Swearing as always. No use of y/n. I don’t know how long this is.

Edit: whoops, it's a series. rest of it is on my masterlist

————

Jason’s trying.

He is. He’s taking the tattered remains of his life and trying to shove them together, mash them into something liveable. Or at least, manageable. Something he can stand to survive.

It’s difficult. He rose from the Pit with a brain that didn’t quite work, didn’t crank like his half forgotten memories told him it did when he was fifteen. He couldn’t string two thoughts together, couldn’t make the synapses fire. Nothing at the helm but the searing pain he brought with him when he woke up, telling his heart to pulse just to find something to do about the feelings of rage and despair that submerged him.

Which, of course, led him to his stupid plan to kill Bruce.

It didn’t work. And it wouldn’t have helped anyway.

His head finally cleared when the dust settled. It dawned on him that he was blessed (ha) with a new lease on life, or something, and he should probably act like it. He should probably get off his ass and make the most of it.

He ends up doing the only things he knows how to do. Jason patrols and goes back to school to get his GED.

The fighting is obvious. He’s lead with his teeth his whole life, he’s not about to start pulling punches now. And a little purpose never hurt anyone, he figures. It helps, most of the time.

More surprising is how much Jason enjoys going back to school. It had started as a passing thought, but he’d forgotten how much he missed it, the freedom to relax and let his mind whir in circles. Bruce had given him the stability to clear his head and focus in the classroom, and he’d soaked everything up like a sponge. When he goes back he discovers, much to his delight, that he’s actually alright in the head. The lights are on, thank god, and soon enough learning comes easy to him, just like it did when he was a teenager. What a relief, to have that back.

He finishes out the GED and figures what the hell, he might as well keep going, and enrolls himself in Gotham U. He is, he realizes, fulfilling a long-lost dream he’d spun for himself back when he was living on the streets. It makes him quietly satisfied, and he pushes through his first semester.

So this is where he is. He comes home at 4am, showers, sleeps for a few hours, then wakes up for class. Dick calls every other week, Barbara patches herself into the line in his helmet without his permission, and he ignores them both. He registers for a course on seventeenth century literature and reads don Miguel de Cervantes, and Margaret Cavendish, and Shakespeare, of course, but also Galileo, which is fun. He brings his books to class, he makes notes in the margins. He searches the authors’ lives on Wikipedia and tries to make text to world connections, just like he learned in school. He looks around the table at the other students and reckons with the fact that they are not, and will never be, like him. Or rather, Jason is not like them. They’re younger, for one thing, but also infinitely more innocent, which feels stupid to say, but it’s true. Whatever they’ve had happen in their uniform lives is absolutely nothing compared to his, and Jason can put that right in his pipe and smoke it for all the good it’ll do him. But he can’t help thinking it, as he eyes them carefully. There is a chasm separating him from them a mile wide, and that’s all there is to it. He’s not like them. Not like you.

You sit next to him, sometimes. You smile at him briefly as you sit down, then remain silent. You don’t speak often, which is notable in a small seminar. Not that Jason does either. A few weeks in he realizes you speak once per class, unless asked a direct question. Your comments are always summarizing, reminding others of the various ideas discussed and offering options of where to go next. It is immensely helpful when you direct traffic like this, and the discussion tends to be clearer after you speak. He peeks at your copy of Paradise Lost spread open under your fingers to find neat little notes, passages underlined, a few question marks. You’re never late, and you always thank the professor before you leave.

Imagine his surprise, then, when he finds you after dark, kicking the shit out of his perp.

You don’t hear him approach, climbing into the man’s apartment with a thud as he realizes someone had started his work for him. He thinks he recognizes you from behind, except that would be crazy, so it can’t be you. What would a university student be doing here? Jason doesn’t count.

It can’t be you, but he’s not sure, so he clears his throat to interrupt. You look at him over your shoulder with a look of such savagery he almost takes a step back.

Yeah. That’s you. Huh.

The cognitive dissonance threatens to give him a migraine. You look him up and down, raise an eyebrow, then turn back to the man lying on the floor and deal him another blow. The man groans, which doesn’t faze you, but Jason snaps to attention.

“I gotta question him.” It’s true, Jason thinks this man has intel on Black Mask’s dealers.

You whirl back around. “That doesn’t seem like it’s my fucking problem.”

Holy shit. Who the fuck are you, anyway?

“Listen, princess,” he begins, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him. This is the first time he’s spoken to you, and it amazes him that he’s doing through the modulator. “I got shit to do here, you gotta get out of the way.” You try to slam onto his foot, then recoil, hissing in pain. “Steel-toed, sweetheart, that won’t get you anywhere.”

“What do you even need to know?” you ask furiously. “You target Black Mask, right? You’re wondering if Black Mask is his supplier? He is, there’s checks on the table.” You nod to a modest desk in the corner.

Okay. Yeah, he did want to know that. “Thanks, princess, but I’ll take it from here.”

You wrest yourself from his grip. “No,” you say stubbornly, “I’m not done.”

“Yeah, you are.” Jason eyes the perp, realizing he’d fallen unconscious. Shrugging, he turns to the desk. You’d clearly gone through it, receipts and bills are littered on the table, but there’s a locked cabinet you hadn’t opened. Kneeling, Jason takes out his lockpick.

He keeps an eye on you as he goes to work. You haven’t left, although he’s not sure where you would go, or even what you’re doing here. You watch him warily, folding your arms over your chest. It takes him a few minutes, but eventually the lock clicks, and he slides the drawer open. It’s pretty bare, mostly cash and, aha, a notebook that’s gotta be important.

He holds it for less than a second before you rip it from his fingers, moving across the room and flipping the book open. He grunts in surprise and follows you, only to find himself with a glock in his face.

Instinct tells him to draw his own weapon, and his hand drops to his hip, but he forces himself to freeze. You’re definitely a civilian, despite whatever the fuck you get up to in your free time. You’re not dressed in any kind of practical gear, just a loose fitting sweatshirt and leggings. Jason scouts you out and realizes that the gun in your hand probably isn’t even yours, you don’t have a place to put it. You must have disarmed the perp before Red Hood had gotten there. Jason files that away for later.

“Let me look,” you demand, and Jason nods. You keep the gun on him, holding the notebook open with one hand and studying it intently. It is so like the image of you in class that he almost laughs out loud. Whatever you’re looking for, you clearly find it, and you mouth something over and over, memorizing it. Then you shut the notebook and hold it out to him.

He takes it cautiously. “You need a ride out of here?”

You roll your eyes. “No thanks, dipshit,” and with that you shimmy through the window and bolt down the fire escape.

Jason blinks. Okay.

He follows you anyway, watching from the rooftops as you make your way across town. It takes you a long time, nearly an hour, and Jason worries that something nasty’s gonna go down, but it doesn’t. You trek resolutely across the city, same steady pace, before letting yourself into a nondescript apartment building, an easy bus ride to the campus. He stays for about twenty minutes, but you stay put.

Jason raps a gun against his helmet. Weird.

He tries and fails to wrap his head around it as he finishes out the evening. It’s just not adding up. Jason doesn’t know you well from class, obviously, but you’re such a far cry from what he saw tonight that it’s hard to believe. He’ll have to do some research, he decides, scope out what else you do besides studying and beating up on Jason’s bad guys. Maybe he’ll even ask you about it in class.

He laughs to himself as he heads back to his own apartment. Weird weird weird. Weird performance you gave him, weird enough to keep him up at night. Oh well. You don’t know it, but he’ll see you tomorrow.

————

lol what is this? what is this? a series, hopefully. otherwise I have no freakin’ idea

[amber-laughs]

In my personal opinion a lot of people misunderstand the situation around Ned's battle at ToJ. Ned and his men fought and killed several men of the Kingsguard. But why? Why won't they let him get to his sister even though Rhaegar and Aerys are dead?

"I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege," Ned told them, "and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them." "Our knees do not bend easily," said Ser Arthur Dayne. "Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him." "Ser Willem is a good man and true," said Ser Oswell. "But not of the Kingsguard," Ser Gerold pointed out. "The Kingsguard does not flee." "Then or now," said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm. -Eddard X

Aerys is dead. Rhaegar is dead. Aegon is dead. Rhaenys is dead. And they know Prince Viserys is alive and unprotected at Dragonstone with a respected knight. Why not go to him? The next in line. Why stay and guard Lyanna? Because they're not guarding Lyanna. They're guarding their King. Jon Snow. They are the kingsguard and their knees do not bend easily. They cannot bend their knee to anyone other than Rhaegar's last living son. They know Lyanna is dying, they know Ned will take Jon away. They might even think Ned will kill him then and there, why not? His faction killed Aegon and Rhaenys. They aren't stopping a young man from seeing his beloved sister, they're stopping him from killing their rightful king.

[ashes2caches]

me, donning my demon helm and grabbing my accursed blade: i fucking hate boymoding

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

💎 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Steel Hawk Elite Helm
Wondrous item, rare ___ While wearing this helmet, you can’t be moved by magical or nonmagical wind against your will. In addition, once on each of your turns when you jump at least 10 feet in any direction, you can choose to fly an additional 10 feet in that direction. This extra movement doesn’t count towards your total movement for the turn and doesn’t provoke opportunity attacks. It takes an action to don or doff the helmet. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[therocketeer0501]

IDW Starscream X Reader

Rendezvous

Warnings: none

Synopsis: While on patrol, the SIC discovers a quiet place he can get away from it all. Unfortunately, so did a certain troublesome little human.

Author note: (I’ve never written fanfic before but I wanted a slow burn romance with no smut only fluff so here I am. I am not a professional writer and this is my first time posting fanfic!)

It had been one of those days you felt like running away from it all. You drove furiously down the winding road you took to work every day. Music blaring and fists clenched on the wheel. Snow had fallen the night before making the foliage glisten as your car screamed past the quiet trees. You needed more time to yourself. Just a few more hours until you had to go home. It’s not like you wouldn’t be alone anyway. You lived by yourself in the middle of nowhere, in a house given to you when your mother passed away last year. The memories in that house plagued you almost as much as your idiot coworkers. Taking a deep breath in, you turn onto the unmarked path that led to the lake. The moon was full, casting ethereal silver light over the icy water. This time of year you knew it was frozen solid. Enough for your favorite passtime, ice skating. It had been years since you had been here. Good memories began to surface as you parked the car and got out. Breathing in a lungful of painfully fridged air. A smile crawled its way across your lips. This was exactly what you needed.

Starscream stalked through the halls of the base. His wings flicking irritably. Another unfruitful scout for energon had left him with the fury of his glorious leader. He flexed his servos itching for something to take his frustration out on. He shouldered past Thundercracker, the other seeker raising a hand in greeting but stopping when he saw the look on his face. He missed the days when he and his trine had been able to spend more time together. But those feelings were currently overshadowed by the unyielding rage he felt. He tried to ignore the sting in the side of his helm where Megatron had drove his fist, making it clear once again that failure meant pain. Venting his frustration to the cold night air, he transformed wanting to be anywhere but here. Flying his usual patrol route he spotted the perfect place far enough away from those miserable humans. A lake, surrounded by mountains and covered in ice. A clearing of large rocks sat underneath a cliff nearby. Perfect to take out his grievances on. He landed skidding so a halt, nearly bowling into one of the big rocks. Instead he sent his fist through it, shattering the massive stone and yelling his frustration to what he thought was an empty night sky.

You had since donned your old skates and a heavier coat. Pulling on the leather skates felt like coming home. Something familiar and exciting. You had taken lessons in your teens and still remember it like it was yesterday. Putting on your favorite playlist, you slide gracefully onto the ice. The moon is bright enough to light the entire lake as you enjoy the solitude. Your breath billowing in eerie curls from your mouth as you remember the steps to a routine you learned. Spinning gracefully, forgetting the awful day you had at work. Peace didn’t last long though as a massive boulder comes hurtling from behind you. Narrowly missing your head and plummeting straight through the thick ice. You barely have time to react before you are sent flying. A scream of fear cut short as you plunge below the ice into the inky water.

Starscream swung his helm around at the sound of your shriek. A human? Or an animal? Something was here with him. He stalked through the trees towards where he had sent that stone flying. He hoped it would land satisfyingly in the middle of that frozen lake. On his approach he saw it in fact met its mark. That’s when he noticed the human vehicle parked near the shore and a small pale hand scrabbling at the edge of the ice. For a moment he thought about just flying away. He wouldn’t have to deal with whatever it was. It was just a human. Right? But something made him stop and reach out a massive hand, scooping you from the water. When he lifted you towards his face to examine you, he noticed something alarming. You weren’t moving. A tinge of guilt gripped his spark. He hadn’t meant to cause harm to the thing. All these years on earth and he hadn’t let himself get this close to its squishy little inhabitants. It looked startlingly like a Cybertronian sparkling. His optics narrow as worry grips him. Poking you with a servo gently to push you over onto your back in his hand, he presses it cautiously to your chest. Your little heartbeat is there, but it’s faint. He vents in exasperation. The night wasn’t meant to go like this.

[gloomuri671]

Under the Influence

Sae Itoshi x Reader

Warning: drinking, make out session, suggestive, sa, grinding

A/N: Oh sevens, have mercy on me. Do not tell my brothers.

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

Dear Diary,

Something I learned while living with my grandparents, after my parents divorced, was to always reject overbearing gifts three times before accepting. That's gives the human brain enough time to really consider their options - their choices. At least with my grandparents. It's always stuck with me even until now.

Now, I can hold my liquor quite well. Better than most people some people might say.. At least I hold it better than Sae Itoshi.

Not long ago, Sae is officially eighteen years old. Now we're here celebrating his birthday ina club against his wishes. His team dragged him here to celebrate, so he dragged me with him. Sae is a more respectful man, he doesn't drink, and doesn't even glance at drugs. He studies, practices soccer, and goes to the gym. "A model student," some would call him. Bringing him here was just another excuse for them to drink.. Plus it's a twenty percent discount. It's a pretty good deal!

Perhaps I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it, dolled myself a bit more than usual. Every girl deserves and should feel pretty. Just a tough up here and there. It's my best friend's birthday too! A part of me hopes he'd call me pretty too. He hasn't said it, but... Oh forget it.

"Lil' mama, over here!"

It goes to show, I was attracting the wrong men, sadly. I just walked in and was immediately approached by a group of middle aged men. "I'm here with my friends, sir," I said. He grabbed my waist and let be too the bar. "Oh, I'm sure they'd understand," he waved off. I looked back at the table where Sae and his teammates were waiting for me. They didn't see me yet, but I hoped they'd catch wind and save me. I'm definitely in the wrong shoes for this.

"I'll have a whiskey," he ordered. He looked at me and nodded to the bartender, "Go ahead, doll." You looked over the menu and chose a pricey little drink while giving the bartender a look. He nodded and stared shaking up your drink. "You know how to pick 'em," the man next to you said, "I'm a more old fashioned man myself."

Oh diary, I was so scared. When our drinks came, I took a sip of mine and sighed in relief when I realized the bartender mixed more juice than alcohol, little to none - just enough to calm me down. "What brings you here?" The bartender asked. One by one the men around me answered his question, but by the look on his face, he wanted my answer the most. "My best friend turns eighteen today," I said, "Him and his team are over there waiting for me." They recognized their country's junior soccer team from the counter. "Oh, so go for men in high places?" Another man next to me pondered. He touched my knee and I jolted slightly. I was afraid. "No need to be so eager, sweetheart," he chuckled. I gave a silent plea for the man behind the counter, whom nodded his head, and disappeared from my sight. What was he doing?

"I own one of the more infitely successful companies in Spain," he told me, "I could shower you in diamonds. Jewels that you stare at while window shopping." His slid up to my thigh slowly, stopping at the helm of my dress. The man on my other side played with the stap of my dress. "Would you be my little sugar baby, doll?" What the hell am I supposed to do?! Somebody! I looked around the club and not one person looked sober enough to help me. Anyone! I looked towards Sae's table, my table, and everyone at that table looked completely out of it.

Get me out of here!

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stop touching my lady."

Huh?

Stopping my search for any help, Sae and Jordan stood a few steps from me. Jordan, the only other Real Madrid junior player that I could call "my friend." "You her boy toy, shrimp?" Jordan scrunched up his nose, but Saw didn't even flinch. "Yeah, so hand her over," he said nonchalantly, "I don't like you holding her up." Oh. My. God! With the way Jordan was trying not to snicker, I knew my face was red.

It wasn't long before one of the men threw a punch at Jordan. Now a browl broke out between Real Madrid and the middle aged men that flocked around me. "You want another drink, ma'am?" The bartender asked me. I looked at him and scanned over the menu before ordering a drink of my choice. "On the house, sweetie," he told me. "Thank you." I sipped in my drink slowly while the brawl was happening. Sooner or later, the staff would have to break up the fight, but for now.. I'll just watch.

When the fight died down, those men were kicked out and the team stayed for more drinks. This is how I found out that Saw is a lightweight. Best Mid Fielder in the world and he can't hold his alcohol? I'm a little buzzed too, but.. Since when did he become so.. Clingy?

The party died down and I, the designated driver, took everyone home with the van we rented out for road trip games. Oh, if coach ever found out what we were using it for... He'd wonder why we didn't bring him! Oh, but if Sae is a lightweight then coach is the complete opposite of that. The tab would've been doubled.

Pulling up to the school, me and Sae switched cars so that I found drop him off then head straight home. One thing is for sure, I'm never letting Sae drink again. "You can put the seat back, Sae," I said. He complied, but now he was staring at me. "Can you hold my hand?" He asked me. I glanced at him then focused back on the road. Wordlessly, I gently held his hand and relaxed feeling his warm hands - slightly warmer because of the alcohol.

One hand on the wheel, I parallel parked my car in front of his drive way. Turning off my engine, I said, "Okay, we're here." I looked to my little passenger prince and into those dangerously teal eyes. Was he watching me this whole time? "Hard not to," he said, "Your pretty when you concentrate on something. Did I ever tell you that?" Did I say that out loud? Shit. He fixed up his chair to sit up right. Never once did he look away from me though.

He let go of my hand and used it to trace my jaw instead. I shivered under his feather like touch. Eye contact is a dangerous thing with Sae: It's like he was Jafar and could hypnotize me into submission - not too far off actually. Still... He's never looked at me this way before.

Looking at him more closely, I'm reminded that my best friend is drunk and has no idea what he's doing. I cleared my throat and gently pushed his hand down. "You're drunk, Sae," I told him. As much as this hurts, rejecting his touch, I couldn't let him do this to himself - to me.

I open my car door and get out as fast as I could. Once I close the door, I take deep breaths to calm myself down. "What the hell was that?" I whispered. This wouldn't be good for my conscience. Whatever it was - whatever I was feeling - whatever he was feeling.. "I'm blaming it on the booze," I muttered.

I took the keys and unlocked his house door, only now realizing that the birthday boy isn't with me. I'm reminded that my passenger prince can't open his door on the inside and came back. I looked through the window to see him nodding off slightly and giggled. I opened up the door and peeked my head in. "Sorry about that," I said, "C'mon, I'll help you to bed."

I reached out my hand and yelped when I was suddenly pulling into the car. Landing face first into his chest, the door was pulled shut, and the recliner pushed back. I gasped and scrambled to get up. "Where you going?" Saw asked. There was something different about his tone. I froze and looked down at him. His legs were open as far apart as the car would let him. "Come here," he beckoned, patting his lap expectingly. I gulped, but complied.

"Sae, bestie, you're drunk," I told him. He nodded and nuzzled his head into my neck. I'm sure he can feel my pulse, the shiver I felt when I felt his breath on my neck, the goosebumps I felt when his arms trapped me to him. "I know," he assured.

One

"It's me, Sae," I told him, "It's me, Y/n, your best friend." His breath became shakey and he kissed the pulse on my neck. "I know, Y/n," he answered back.

Two

"You're gonna regret this in the morning," I warned him. He shook his head and trailed kisses up my neck, to my cheek and kissed the tip of my nose. "I won't," he said. My breath shook, before I wrapped my arms around his neck.

Three

I let it escape me like broken dam that's been slowly coming down after so long. I finally kiss him. I could taste the Hennessey on his tongue, just as sure he could taste the Rum off of mine. His lips were soft, everything I imagined. "Fuck, Y/n," he groaned. Oh, shit.

My last bit of restraint left me and mounted his lap like I would a horse. I kissed him with ever bit of desire I held for him. I opened my eyes, but his were closed. I sighed in disappointment. I would've loved to look into his eyes right now too. Closing them again, I instead focused on the hands that started to roam my body. I returned the favor.

Reluctantly, I broke the kiss to come up for air. I would've loved to drown in him longer, but I didn't want to overwhelm him. No, not when I finally get to kiss him after all this time. I precked his lips, then his cheek, his jaw, all the way down to his collar bone. His breath was heavy, and I reveled in ever second. Searching his neck for that one spot, once he let out a moan, I attacked it desperately. "Make that sound again," I whispered. He called for me among his curses. Oh, fuck I'm a goner.

When his hands made their way to my ass, I knew it was over for me. Giving a squeeze, my breath shallowed and I suppressed a moan. Noticing this, he did it again until he was playing with it as if it was play doh. My dress hiked up a bit, but I could care less. Especially when the tormentor of my dreams is right under me.

What other sounds could he make? His lustful gaze filled me with determination. I fully sat down on his growing buldge and circled my hips slightly. His breath hitched, a loud moan came from him, eyes blown wide. "There's those pretty eyes," I muttered. I grinded down on him, my hand cupping his face as if he was fine China. "So handsome," I whispered. Perhaps he heard me the first time, because now be fought to keep his eyes open. Never once looking away from me. Oh if only he knew what he did to me. Or maybe he did?

One hand on my ass and the other on my hip, he helped guide my hips on him, grinding up to meet me half way too. A shakey moan leaves my lips before I could stop it. Hes kissing me again, only this time, he's looking me in the eyes while doing so. A man could offer me millions of diamonds, but all I'd care about are the ones watching me right now. Looking at me with a hunger I'd only ever fantasize about. Such precious jewels and right now they were all mine. "All yours," he whispered to me. "Oh my god." I said that out loud too!? "All fucking yours," he said again, planting kisses on my neck. There would most likely be marks in the morning, what a hassle. "Always been," he whispered in my ear, grinding us closer together. I moaned at the sensation.

Maybe the Vodka hit me harder than I thought. Because now I'm most likely soaked down there. Sae would never say that to any girl who showed interest. I've seen it may times before: The love struck fan confesses her love, but Sae doesn't even spare them a glance. Now I'm imagining he'd declare himself all for myself? But I wish that was so. So I'll believe he ment to say that for now.

"F-fuck, right there," I whimpered. My hips feverishly grinding down where his buldge hit the spot just right. Over and over and over again. "S-Sae," I whimpered. He finally left my neck alone, helping me reach my high, kissing my lips like he would in my dreams. "C'mon, babe," he told me, "私のために兼. (Watashi no tame ni ken.)" Oh, f-u-uck. That's it.

Riding out the high of the moment, Sae let out a loud groan. Looking down at his lap, I gasped when I saw the mess we made. I saw the creamy white slowly trying to escape from his pants. I let out a shakey moan and tried to get off him. He held me in place, though.

"Thank you," he whispered into my hair, "I love you." My heart skipped a beat. "I love you," I said without thinking. It was only when his arms tightened around me did I realize what I had done. "Oh no," I thought out loud, "Oh no no no no no." I got up, rolled the window down, reached my hand out and opened the door from the outside. Was he fucking serious.

Getting out of the car, I fixed my dress and helped Sae out of the car. He looked confused and I wouldn't blame him: I was too. Locking my car, I helped into his house and to his room.

I took off his shoes and changed him out of his dirty sweaty clothes. He'll thank me later. Since it's his first time drinking, he'll know the horrors of waking up and smelling like shit, but at least he'll be in fresh clothes and not in the ones that already probably smell like shit and would get worse the longer he waits til the morning. My breath hitched when I saw his cum soaked underwear. It didn't help that Sae looked like he was studying my reactions.

Once he closed his eyes I finally let myself sober up and pace his room. "Why the fuck did you do that!? Bad, Y/n. Don't you know how much he trusts you?" I quietly scolded myself, "I'm such a bitch. I couldn't even keep my hands to myself! Taking advantage of your crush when he's drunk is the dumbest and shitiest thing I could've ever done." I ran my fingers through my hair and looked down at Sae, who was sleeping peacefully in his bed.

"Look at you," I whispered, "Sleeping peacefully while I'm left to ponder what the fuck I'm supposed to do now." I looked at the blanket over him and fixed it better so that he could feel more comfortable. I looked at the AC and turned it down a bit, making it colder, so that I would be less sweaty in the morning. "Why must you torture me so much? Don't you know how much I love you, soccer genius?" I laughed slightly, "Pfft- "I love you" my ass... Wish you were sober though." I sighed softly. Took his shoes and left the room.

He'd forget it all in the morning.

I'm never letting him drink again. It's bad for my heart.

Oh my.. What have I done? Anyways, that's progress.. Maybe. Now this is getting interesting.

What do you think will happen?

-Levi

[steelbonded]

Meet Calvin, a 22-year-old police officer from Ottendorf, a small town of The People's Republic of Harmonia. He grew up in the sketcher part of town and witnessed countless crimes in his childhood. His sense of justice and servicing his community and order drew him to enlist as an officer.

When he graduated from the academy at 19, the radical leftist government of Harmonia "reallocated" funds away from the police. First, they "demilitarize" the police. Abolishing the SWAT teams, removing semi-automatic. Then they "disarmed" them. Handing back their pistol. They then shortly "decriminalized" all drug use.

Calvin saw firsthand how Ottendorf and Harmonia spiralled out of control and he had no resources nor power to prevent it.

The Steelbonded Republic was created to break away from Harmonia to defend the law, obey authority and reestablish order throughout what was Harmonia and beyond.

It was only two days ago when troops from the Steelbonded Republic liberated the town of Ottendorf. Calvin accepted them with open arms as order and authority needed to be established quickly.

The republic senses Calvin's desire for order and offers Calvin a new chance, to be remodelled into Steelbonded's police officer. To join in their mission, to spread order and conquer misery. "

"You have chosen peace and order," said CPO-103-0A94, his new commanding officer as he went to Ottendorf's Town hall to enlist in Steelbonded's forces.

"This will be uniform, wear it and soon you will be integrated into us"

Calvin marveled at the new uniform, jet black equipped with advanced technology that he will never have access to in Harmonia. It would be stupid to not serve Steelbonded, after all the values of Steelbonded are why he signed up for the police forces in the first place. Calvin nodded and donned the uniform, with the flag of Steelbonded and his new tag APR-093-202D proudly displayed on his left chest.

"Wear the helmet and your integration will be complete." CPO-103-0A94 gave him a jet-black helmet with a thick visor. The helmet is heavier than it appears, at least 7 kg but nether less, Kevin manually adjusts the helmet, positioning it securely onto his head.

Calvin was drowned in darkness as the visor fitted snuggly on his face. How are you supposed to see anything Calvin wondered. Little did Calvin know was the helmet is equipped with advanced neural technology, and is designed to interface seamlessly with his brain, mapping out neural pathways and preparing to inject The Steelbonded Republic values.

The helmet activated as soon as it was able to identify key neurological points that response to resistance and areas susceptible to suggestion. Flashing lights and discordant sounds play within the helmet to weaken Calvin and prepare the brain for the inauguration.

Panicked, Calvin immediately tried to grab the shell of the helmet to desperately pull the helmet off. The helmet refused to budge. He tried to peel the helmet off, desperately trying to find the seams between the helmet and his combat shirt. As he didn't know, his helmet and his uniform had been sealed together to form one complete piece, trapping him inside.

Noticing his struggles, CPO-103-0A94 approached Calvin.

"Just relax, Calvin and surrender control. Individuality is harmful. Join the conformity. Resistance is meaningless. Empty your mind and accept your new identity APR-093-202D. You crave order. You crave structure. You crave discipline. You are APR-093-202D. Let the NEW COUNTRY in you and you will be a vessel to serve The Steelbonded Republic."

The familiar but authoritative voice of a CPO-103-0A94 washes him in calamity, supplemented by the helmet's hijacking of his higher conative reasoning reducing his mental resistance.

An endless loop of images, videos and symbols of the The Steelbonded Republic then bombards Calvin APR-093-202D. Scenes depicting the glory and might of the police force and military are regularly shown. Whenever order and law are enforced, the helmet releases a splurge of dopamine to signal conformity and order is pleasurable. “Unity is strength,” “Obedience is protection,” and “The state is supreme” echo in an unending loop.

After endless hours of conditioning, CPO-103-0A94 orders APR-093-202D. "Identify yourself."

"I am APR-093-202D, sir! I serve The Steelbonded Republic and its laws must be enforced. Order must be established!"

202D is ready, CPO-103-0A94 determined. He will be the property of the republic and be integrated with republic forces. Acting as a nod, CPO-103-0A94 connects 202D to republic's server and integrating 202D within the vast forces of The Steelbonded Republic. For 0A94, this is the ultimate glory, expanding The Steelbonded Republic's empire. 202D was the first but not last Ottendorf officers to be indoctrinated into the republic.

APR-093-202D stands among the rest of his Ottendorf officers APR-093-202E, F and G and among the Apprentice Police Reserve (APR) with the same uniform. Each officer is visually identical, with identical body armour, tactical boots, and a helmet that completely obscures the upper part of the face. The only hint of their individuality is their identification number tag plastered on the front and back of their chest. They are after all, one vessel. To establish law and order within The Steelbonded Republic.

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have Lon Chaney Jr. The Wolf Man: The Legacy Collection It has The Wolf Man 1941 , Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man 1943 , The She Wolf of London 1946 and Werewolf of London 1935