#I do not know what American plugs look like and I could not be fucked to Google it

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 9th

Day 9: Anal // Praise Kink // Food Play

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Plugs/toys, anal fingering, ass slapping, oral sex (female receiving), anal sex, virgin ass

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Squirming slightly, you bite your lip as you try not to give away the game. Glancing up from your paperwork to see that he is engrossed in whatever report he is reading. Your eyes slide over his handsome features. Since going back to the field, he’s worn a more casual look into the office, but it always pairs so nicely with that leather jacket. Wearing his glasses less, although he’s got them on right now. 

He’s so fucking sexy without even trying to be and ever since that last conversation, you’ve been obsessed with the idea of him fucking your ass. 

Marcus had been widowed for a long time, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t experienced. Despite looking like an All-American Heroic, he loved sex. He loves experimenting. You had learned that very quickly after jumping into bed with him. 

This weekend is the perfect opportunity to take it to the next level. The conference was in a beautiful resort, and ‘somehow’ you and Marcus had been booked into the same suite. Ms. Granada had smirked when she told you the news, rumors of your relationship have already made the rounds through the halls of the Heroics’ Headquarters and neither one of you had denied it. 

“Are you almost done, babe?” You ask, making him look up, his brow furrowing slightly. 

“Yeah, uh-” He suddenly wonders if you had booked a table somewhere for dinner, if he’s forgotten about that. “Yeah.” He nods, taking his glasses off as he tries to remember what you had said you wanted to do. You said you had something planned but he doesn’t think that you’ve said anything else aside from that. 

“Good.” You can see he’s a little confused, but you get off the couch and walk around the coffee table to where he is sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room of the suite. “I have something I want to show you.”

Marcus frowns as you turn around. Unsure of what you might be showing him until you slide your dress up your hips and bend over, your legs spread. 

His mouth runs dry. There, teasing him, is a little jeweled plug buried deep in your ass. His groan is immediate, accompanied by the hardening of his cock. “Fuck.” He hisses, reaching out and grabbing your ass with both hands as he leans in, spreading your cheeks wider as he gets a good look. 

You giggle quietly, twisting your head around to watch his gaze turn focused and nearly feral. He’s mentioned it before, wanting to fuck your ass. Telling you that he could make you enjoy it despite having never really been interested in it before. He never pressured, just telling you that if you wanted to do it, to let him know. 

You are ready, deciding that this weekend was the perfect time to give him this. “It feels strange.” You admit, sucking in a sharp gasp when his thumb moves to the jewel and he shifts it inside you. “Strange, but good.” 

“How long have you been wearing it?” He asks, biting his lip as he watches your puckered hole clench around the plug. 

“Only a few hours.” You admit, knowing that you didn’t want to wear it for too long. He groans again and this time you are moaning when he twists it inside you. It’s strange how that simple action can make your cunt clench around nothing, but you are already soaking wet from the anticipation. 

“Goddamn, it looks so pretty.” He coos, squeezing your ass and pulling you slightly closer. “When did you get this little beauty?” 

You whimper and wish he would stop staring at your asshole, but you know he likes your surprise. “A- a couple of days ago.” You had stopped by the adult toy store and picked it up, wanting to wash it and look at it. 

“You’re so good to me.” He praises, already straining at the seam of his jeans and eager to take you to bed. “Did you get lube, sweetheart?” 

Of course you did. There is no way Marcus Moreno is sliding his cock in your ass without some lube. He’s too thick to even imagine it. “Uh huh.” You hum. “In the bedroom.” 

Marcus groans, slapping your ass and reluctantly letting you go. He needs to get you into the bedroom and prep you a little more. 

****

“Marcus.” Your eyes clench closed, your fingers twisted in the sheets as you try not to roll your hips up, away from him.

He’s killing you with this pace. Three fingers buried inside of you, replacing your plug one at a time until he’s got the three inside you. His tongue lashes at your clit again, moaning into your folds and making you curl your toes when they flick over your sensitive bud again as you ride out your second orgasm. 

His dark eyes are laughing at you, finally pulling away as he scissors his fingers one last time, finding that you are opened up enough to finally take him. “Now I’ll fuck you.” 

You whimper at the cocky assurance in his tone. Watching Marcus change from the mild mannered man to the in-charge lover is one that is spectacular to behold. Confident and almost brash as he pulls you apart and pieces you back together every time. “Then do it.” You are practically pouting and your tone is needy. 

Deliberately, he drags it out. Turning you over and pulling your hips up to the position that he wants. Face pressed to the cool sheets and your ass up in the air, you can see him shuffle behind you. 

Another thick dollop of lube coats his fingers to rub around your puckered hole, making you whimper and clench slightly, pushing back and moaning in desperation as he pulls his fingers away. You can hear him, hear the slide of his cock through his slickened hand, coating himself in the friction resistant lube. The low groan as your body throb in anticipation, knowing your hole is fluttering wildly. All you can do is wait for him to move. To claim you. 

Marcus shuffles closer. Licking his lips as he presses forward, his cock sliding through your cheeks and around your hole. One hand holds your hip steady, keeping you from rocking back as he gets closer to filling you. 

“Marc-” 

“I’ve got you, baby.” He coos, smirking slightly as he lines up to start to slowly break you open with gentle yet firm pressure. “Don’t worry, you’ll take me.” 

You weren’t worried about that, but it is reassuring to know. A low moan starts in your throat as he starts to push inside you. Slowly filling you, an inch at a time. 

Your eyes closed and you don’t know it, but Marcus has his eyes closed too. Savoring the way you feel. How your ring of muscles is clenching around him and having to wait until you relax to push in just a bit more. Rocking his hips until they are flush against your ass and he is buried deep. 

He’s thick, long and completely stretching you out. Your fingers curl into the sheets as he gives you time to adjust to him. Waiting so patiently even though you can feel every pulsing beat of his heart and his excitement through the insistent throbbing of his cock, making your own body respond to it. Until you are pushing back, begging him to move inside you. “Baby please,” you whine, rolling your hips back and needing him to give you more. 

“So good for me, baby.” Marcus groans, pulling his hips back slowly. “You’re gonna love it.” He promises, making sure that he keeps his word. 

[tanadrin]

Honestly, I *don't* want to mix things with proportional representation. I see proportional representation as an excellent way of increasing the importance of dealings between politicians and reducing the incentive effects of the voters. But in my ideal world I'll need to negotiate with people who do like proportional representation, and this system is a compromise I could get behind. Plus you can plug and play any three different electoral systems for different compromises.

First past the post is a bad, undemocratic electoral system. First past the post privileges large parties by making small ones unviable, and distorts the composition of parliaments by wasting votes. It can be gerrymandered in a way proportional representation cannot be. It produces highly unrepresentative outcomes. It is a bad electoral system! All good voting systems are to some degree inclined to more proportional results.

I've never heard the accusation that PR "increases the importance of dealings between politicians," but look. I don't know how else to put this. That is a stupid objection. Just absolutely boneheaded. You haven't thought about this at all, I reckon.

People hate on "politicians" as a generic class, but it's like hating on lawyers as a generic class. You need politicians. You want politicians. You want people whose specialized job it is to read legislation, fight about what should go in it, represent your interests, and come to balanced compromises about those interests. People percieve politics as messy, venal, and corrupt, and it can be all those things, but guess what? The alternative to career politicians is part-time citizens who don't know what the fuck they're doing, have no expertise in the legislative process, and therefore are at the mercy of lobbyists who can walk them like a dog because they're naive and inexperienced.

There's this especially (but not exclusively) American pathology that is a suspicion of government that works too well. This peculiar notion that if only we sabotage government a little bit it will keep tyranny in check and make politicians more honest... somehow. But filling government with random yahoos doesn't get you a noble collegium of Tocquevillian citizen-lawmakers, it gets you a pack of Marjorie Taylor Greens and Lauren Boberts. You know--morons. Americans will support all these ballot initiatives that fuck up government on purpose, like term-limiting legislators and keeping their salaries low so only rich people can afford to go into politics (and even then are only willing to do it as a stepping stone to other gigs), and vote for people who promise to make government work even worse by cutting the budget and lowering taxes, and then have the absolute gall to whine about how badly the government works. My fellow Americans, you did that on purpose.

(And there's this weird paradox where Americans all loathe Congress. Who keeps voting these creeps in? Well. You do. Congresscritters are generally pretty highly approved of by their own constituents. The stereotype of lazy, stupid, venal politicians always seems to apply to the other guys.)

And you will also note that since the abolition of things that used to facilitate deals between politicians in the U.S. congress--since the abolition of earmarks and chummy socials between congressmen and the post--generally, since the post-Gingrich upheaval in the House--it has gotten harder to pass even necessary, basic legislation, because it is harder to make the basic compromises necessary to keep government functioning. Having three separate legislatures that each can claim a different sort of democratic mandate isn't a recipe for good legislation, it's a recipe for paralysis and constitutional crisis.

[sevs-corner]

Gary “Roach” Sanderson if he was in the CoD: MW Series (2019-2023)

LOOK-- I really like Roach (i watched the remastered mw2 2020 recently) and I wish he comes back later on in the current MW series. So for now (and my coping-ness) let’s imagine his dynamic with the gang! (These are all HCs with some in between dialogue and plot, and I'll be using some major plot points from the campaign. A lil' heads up, its been awhile since i've watched the gameplay so the timeline might be a bit confusing lol) Masterlist here ! And a previous HC of Roach here !

Roach gets recruited around the same time Gaz does, after the mission in London when Gaz’s team was trying to stop a cargo right in the middle of the city.

Roach is one of the many officers that gets called in for back-up

And then finds himself working in tandem with Gaz, covering each other’s backs as they try and secure the hostages

Price shows up as per usual and saves the two from under the rubble

Afterwards, with the two surprisingly not broken, they handle the aftermath and comes in the scene where Price recruits Gaz after he admits they had a great deal of info on the bust but was unable to act on it

Roach agrees, seeing the movements and reports that Gaz makes to their boss in the SAS, and feels mutual of how restricted they are right now

Seeing their conviction, Price gives a call to Kate and adds an additional person to the team-- Roach.

Then they all go on all sorts of missions together, Roach actually being the more grounded but chaotic of the three

So, lets say he adapts the shenanigans we do as players when we play as his POV in game

Randomly, he is picking up all sorts of guns from the ground, constantly swapping and taking too long to loot enemy bodies (that sometimes Gaz does it for him so they could move on quicker)

Price on the other hand just lets him does his thing-- until he rushes forward like a maniac and go guns blazing in the Embassy

But, he also gets scolded by plugging up comms from humming-singing, and--

what the fuck- PUT THE BANJO DOWN--

He's the type of person to be like that one guy who plays jazz music on his comms in a gun fight (yeah i made a gundam thunderbolt reference mhmm)

You'd think he'd go deaf but no, he takes peace in the chaos

Reveling and thriving in it actually, like he’s too used to the scene (he is but he would rather work in the moment then act in worry and in constant stress)

Roach was almost tempted to go with Alex and Farah for their cause but thinks about how he’s a much better fit with the 141 guys, and how he could see himself working in the squad long term

He eventually meets Johnny and Simon on the mission to get Hassan

Yet that goes to high and hell when he was a part of the A squad, barely clear of any wounds- luckily, nothing fatal

But the situation he found himself made him more energized with serotonin, easily making quick work of the combatants in his vicinity— doing his best to cover for his comrades who were still recovering

He knows Soap and Ghost would be here immediately but he tries to convince to focus on the mission, to let him handle it as he hunkers down for a moment to reload

They both deny, checking out first the crash site before checking out Hassan, and coming up empty

Until Roach finds the metal shipping carrier, calling over Soap, then Ghost and showing the find of that disdained American rocket

Soap, is obviously confused, and doesn't quite piece it together until Kate discusses it with him

As the others got busy with their personal mission

Of course, we're having Roach join the Ghost-Soap duo in Las Almas

Because of needing more man power in capturing Hassan of course

He hops into the mission somewhere in the middle, in the mission in getting Hassan with the assist of Graves and his shadows

Roach definitely hissed at this man on instinct and had to be held back by the armpit by Ghost

Even though he had a bad feeling swirling in his stomach, he kept it in and somehow ended up on the same squad as Graves going into the Oil Rig mission

Anddddddddddddddd you can guess how it went with him-- horribly

Personally, I can see how Graves to be this straight-laced guy when it comes to missions in a way that, if someone diverts from the mission or does something that may jeopardize it even a little-- he is going to flip

So that's what Roach exploited, the comms in his ears blowing up every time he goes for a risky kill or -instead of going for a stealth kill- he's going in guns blazing with a very, very exhausted Graves behind him

But the thing about Roach, no matter how reckless he is, he gets the job done

Graves wanted to oh so leave him in the Oil Rig before he and Soap exploded it, but sadly Ghost had told him and Alejandro to get the hell outta there before he could (such a damn shame)

But at least he gets to capture him in the streets of Las Almas

He got quite unlucky actually, about to meet Soap and Ghost but one wrong move got him captured

Ghost and Soap obviously becomes worried, and they're (with Rudy) are more determined than ever

And yep, this is the moment where Roach just sees red

Wreacking absolute havoc in his way with rage filling his veins

If there was anything that was going to tick Roach off, it would be his own allies hurting

Loyalty, whether in the military or not, is special

And if you use him and his allies for your own bitter ends and means?

Oh, you are in a world full of hurt

So much so, that you wished he spoke the merciful words, "pick and God and pray" by your death bed

He doesn't, not for Graves and definitely not for the man he called the General- Shepherd

He swears that Shepherd counted his lucky stars that night when they couldn't locate him after "getting rid of Graves and his lackeys for good"

But it doesn't end there- their job never does

This time, he accompanies Price and Soap into infiltrating the building for Hassan, leaving Overwatch to Ghost and the other team climbing the tower led by Gaz

He is back to, not even exploding the glass and breaking it, but pushing himself off the side of the building and cannon-balling straight through (with, suprise surprise, little to no injuries sustained)

He's a miracle ball of sunshine really

Soap then follows through and Price just... he could care less at the moment with Hassan (who is once again near their grasps)

Roach wanted to stay and help Price (who didn't get shot fatally but was still hurt from the blow) but his captain said to go

Thus, he went--

Doing his best to cover Soap as they finally steal the detonator from him but eventually run out of guns, and eventually--

Get

Shot.

Soap has to decide now- whether to save his comrade and friend or to stop the fucking missile from destroying the white house

Roach knew the cogs that was turning behind Soap's eyes, so he grabs his cheek and head butts him

Telling Soap to get his priority straight as he forces himself back up to distract Hassan

Soap tries to decode and hack the missile as soon as possible when the coast was clear

Luckily, he had just a couple of seconds to spare

Unluckily so, he saw Roach's pliant body in Hassan's hands- being dragged right in front of him

Soap is enraged, wrestling and trying to get the upperhand on armed Hassan

Luckily, Ghost always has his back-- shot on point, direct, and done in one click

With a heavy breath, he gives his thanks to Ghost before calling an evac- checking Roach's condition

Hands are cold to the touch but his artery pulse--

Faint!

By the time MW3 rolls around, Roach is up and at 'em!

Refreshed and recovered with the proper treatment and therapy

Some grazes to the nerves on his shoulder but its still all good and working--

"Ow!"

Yeah, he can't overexert it like before

Which makes the Tf 141 relieved...for now

A/N: Cont for the MW3 part soon! I just wanna freshen up with the plot on Makarov 'cause it was a bit confusing to follow so yeah lol

[harry-sussex]

The media has branded Harry and Meghan a “flop” - there’s no coming back from that reputation.

That WSJ article just made my stomach drop. I have no idea how it’s possible that things have gotten this bad. The worst part is that there’s no way up from here - only further down. Rock bottom is a challenge at this point, and it feels like they’re shooting for it every single day.

This is what they wanted? This is better? They’re happy? No fucking way, man. No fucking way. If I know anything about Harry at all - and at this point, we all know Harry a bit too well - he must be outright miserable. There’s no way this whole thing has been worth it. None whatsoever. To someone like me, this is nauseating. I hate it. I hate this. I have always hated this, I always knew that they weren’t going to live the life they thought they would after they left, I’ve been saying for three years until I’m blue in the face - and the reception I’ve gotten from Sussex fans around the world has been horrific (you guys should see some of the shit that’s come through my inbox courtesy of the squad - so much for mental health, Harry and Meghan would be ashamed of them, but I digress).

If you give even a sliver of a shit about Harry, you’ll be able to get your head out of the sand and recognize that leaving was the absolute worst thing he could have done for himself. Look at him! Directionless! Lost! Misguided! Unproductive! Not to mention paranoid, tired, isolated, and he fact that he always looks miserable.

I will say it again and again and again - it. did. not. have. to. be. this. way. 3 years in - what do they have to show for it?:

A successful commercial venture? Nope - almost nothing has come out of Archetypes or anything else, as in the article. Bill Simmons called them “fucking grifters!” If he’s willing to say it loud and proud for the media to pounce on, how many are saying it behind closed doors?

More money? Their income hinges upon content they haven’t created yet. Clearly, these companies have no trouble pulling the plug on their deals and therefore cutting off the income. (Not for nothing - the more this happens, the less money they’ll be able to say they grossed by leaving the royal family. Since this looks like a trend, at what point do they stop and say ‘I probably would have more money at my disposal if I just stuck with the Duchy of Cornwall?’)

More exposure? Yeah, I guess, but look how shitty it is all the time. This is not the kind of exposure they were looking for.

More privacy? Totally goes against everything above, but they’ve never been more vulnerable to intrusive speculation. They invite it! Encourage it! Hand their personal lives over to the media and the public on a silver platter! The only thing keeping them ‘private’ is living in a gated community - imagine how private their personal life would be if they were in a palace instead?

Better treatment from the press? The American media are vultures too. The world media has made a fortune off of their bullshit. Even the gently critical ones that tell the hard truth - like the WSJ - show that the media does not care who you are if you deserve the criticism or if your bullshit is so completely out of this world that the story writes itself. Nothing is sacred, and it’s even worse now that there’s nothing standing in between them and the press.

The opportunity to provide universal service? What the hell have they done? One single Invictus Games? The occasional event? The occasional donation? They spend more time accepting awards for doing something rather than actually doing something!

Being happier? Bullshit, man. Look at Prince Harry. He hasn’t had a genuine smile on his face in public since 2021. I could go down a rabbit hole here, but you’re blinded by adoration if you can’t recognize he’s outright miserable and a complete shell of the person he used to be. That spark is completely gone.

I could go on, but these articles are starting to pop up in legitimate news sources. We’re not talking about the National Enquirer here - this is the Wall Street Journal. A legitimate news source is reporting on the way they’re failing to meet their own standards and the standards of those who control the purse strings - and how they’re nothing without their titles. If the money is the bottom line, then they need the star power behind their HRHs to make it. They don’t have anything else worth marketing. That star power is dwindling more and more as they get closer and closer to rock bottom and as they continue to bite the hand that has always fed them. Look at this from Vanity Fair:

So much for “service is universal.” They don’t get traction for any of their charity work because they spend so much time BITCHING. The world can’t focus on their service and help support those causes because they spend so much FUCKING TIME milking their only cash cow that nobody has any idea what kinds of causes they support! In fact - I’d bet that the only causes recognized by the general public are those they SUPPORTED BY WORKING FOR THE FAMILY. This isn’t about service - it’s about clout, star power, mystique, and the aura associated with the blurred lines between royal and celebrity. The service hasn’t been part of it for a long time. They’ve wronged their ship and there’s no way to right it anymore. That ship, for lack of better term, has sailed. The world doesn’t see them as charitable - the way they were seen when they were working for the family. The world sees them as washed up crybabies who don’t have anything to offer. It’s not just a “hater” thing anymore. They’ve lost their allure and that was the only thing they had going for them. Without that allure, they’re nothing compared to the Hollywood lights.

They’ve completely fucked up. I know it, you know it, Hollywood knows it, the Royal Family knows it. Harry and Meghan are the only people on earth who haven’t figured it out. They haven’t done a single thing they planned since leaving. They’re not happier, they don’t live a more private life, they don’t have more bandwidth to do charity work, they’re not making money hand over fist, they’re not successful in their new endeavors… they’ve completely fucked up.

Harry, in particular, has completely fucked up. He gave up a life of structure, service, wealth, luxury, success, protection, guidance, family, friendship for… this? And he’s pretending that it was the best decision he ever made? Please. He fucked up, and it will continue to come back to bite him day in and day out until he learns to sit down, shut up, get some help, and hire some competent people to make shit happen for him, because clearly he cannot direct the ship on his own.

This is not how it was supposed to be - not for us as fans, nor for them after leaving. It did not have to be this way. I’d bet anything that the part of Harry who wanted this is dwindling more and more each day. Someday, he’s going to regret the whole thing. The more I see him and hear him, the more I think he’s already there. He fucked up, and I think he’s finally on his way to realizing that they have to do something to make the world interested in them beyond their association with the family. That will diminish, and then they’ll really be shit out of luck.

What a complete and utter disaster, Henry. What a mess. With all due respect, Your Royal Highness - you fucked up.

[eris-snow]

Okay but hear me out- Indian American Reader x Bakugou??? With maybe an rock control quirk (+ metals bc we love a strong bb) but like I can imagine his shock when he realizes that someone can not only withstand his explosions with the metal she creates but someone with even more fucked up tastebuds with the amount of spicy food she eats on a daily basis??

“That all you got?” You call out, commanding rocks to rise from the earth as you shield yourself from his explosions.

“Shut your piehole, extra!” Bakugou roars, skidding to a stop at the end of the room, before launching himself back at you so fast you almost didn’t have time to react.

An explosion meets your shields, and in a second, he’s got you pinned down on the pavement, sweat dripping, knee against your leg and hand on your palm.

“Told you I could handle you, didn’t I?” He smirks devilishly, palms throbbing. He appreciates a good fight.

You don a matching grin, muscles tightening. “Not quite.”

His smile vanishes.

You wield the cement with practised motions, causing Bakugou to slam into the ground next to you.

Flipping him over, you exchange positions, you on top, and a very angry Bakugou beneath you.

“I win,” you whisper, a cocky smile curling on your face.

Bakugou attempts to use his explosions, only for you to reinforce the cement with metal.

He groans. “Dumb fuckin’ luck.”

“Look, it was funny the first time, but I’m calling a time-out on your insults.” You huff. “I won fair and square.”

“I pinned you first, smartass!”

“I neutralised you first, dumbfuck—”

Shoto takes a sip out of his protein shake. “Hey Bakugou. If you’re flirting, you’re doing a really bad job at it—”

“I’M GONNA FUCKING ASSASSINATE YOU ICYHOT.”

--

“This scares me,” Denki coughs. “Like, full-body ghost summoning kind of scary.”

Half of the class lies on the couch, utterly defeated by the hot sauce Denki had unknowingly made as a dipping sauce because he misread the bottle. You know, Bakugou’s exclusive Hot One’s Last Dab Sauce.

It had knocked the absolute wind out of strong contenders Kirishima and Ashido, and completely ruined Midoriya, who was still hiccuping and hacking away at the sink. Todoroki was passed out on the couch and Denki was half convince he was on his dying breath.

No, what scared him was you two freaks.

“Ha! What a bunch of wimps!” Bakugou cackles, lathering his fried chicken with the sauce and taking a good bite out of it. Bro didn’t look bothered in the slightest. In fact, Denki would wager the trigger-happy human landmine was enjoying the murderous sauce.

“This is really good,” You sigh, reaching for another fried chicken and dipping it entirely into the saucer. “Where’d you get it?”

Denki begs your fucking pardon?

“Should come over to my house, Ma makes the best spice,” Bakugou grins, eyes glinting as you chew on your drumstick innocently.

Your eyes light up. “Invitation accepted. Now move the damn dip over. We need more.”

“You both,” Denki wheezes. “Are demons. Menaces.”

“You’re just a pussy, Spark Plug.”

Denki would argue, but he doesn’t think his throat would cooperate.

Truly, a match made in heaven.

Or hell.

--

Author's note: Seriously this was so cute! Frankly, as someone who loves spicy food, loved to see the representation of this and a strong reader that can hold her own against Blasty! it's nice to cuddle up and play damsel with the heroes, but sometimes I just wanna take no bull and stand on my own two feet! (Kick them in the balls or smth, therapeutic as heck)

Thanks for requesting, it means a lot! 🧡

[theology101]

Roger Maxson is the most important man in Fallout American History

So tonight, as we break bread together, let us forge together something new. Something strong. Something we can be proud of. Something we can build upon. We'll preserve what's best of what's come before and use it. And one day, we will reclaim what was lost. Let us forge a Brotherhood of Steel.

I love great man history. It is entirely inaccurate and a horrible way to represent trends, war, geo-political power, and the thousands of little pieces that all make up 'history.' Great Man History swipes that all away and instead makes history a Biography, where the steps made by an individual would reverberate for eons to come. In real life, the amount of people who could possibly defined as 'Great Men' is minuscule (by my count, its 5) and its usage in chronicling history is dubious if not non-existent

But for storytelling? Hot DOG that gets my blood pumping!

Roger Maxson was a man on the Brink. His commanding officer, Colonel Robert Spindel had just committed suicide, leaving Maxson in command of the entire military brigade established at Mariposa - 1,500-3,200 soldiers, all of whom had to deal with the fact that their government willingly committed horrors against not only humans, but also American citizens. He was able to gather the families of his men, probably doubling their population numbers, and then watched as a week and a day after assuming command, Roger Maxson watched as nuclear flame wiped clean the entire surface.

This was not like Ellen Santiago on the East Coast, a military leader looking for some hope, some direction. This was a man who had declared independence from his country, had the Rose colored glasses ripped from his eyes and watched as consumerism and imperialism consumed the entire world. Mariposa was a military base... and also a corporate research center. Maxson would have been well aware of the economic situation prior to the war and would most likely have come to the conclusion that America was responsible for its own death.

I brought up Great Man history so let me plug one of those Great Men - Charlemagne. If you were gonna be boring about (IE an actual historian), you would look at how the Franks had been rising in local power for decades, and that Charlemagne used the foundation made by his grandfather and the relationship with Rome that had been fostered since the Merovingians to make the largest military powerhouse seen in the West since the fall of Rome. But if you were gonna be BASED AS FUCK (a bad historian but a good storyteller) you would write about how Charlemagne's personal brilliance and skill won the day. And the latter is exactly what Charlemagne would want you to think - so he had his legends made. Codifed centuries later as Chanson de geste, Charlemagne spent the majority of his time as Holy Roman Emperor myth-making about himself. Establishing epics, wondrous stories, and poems. Becoming more than himself and instead being Pater Europae

Roger Maxson: We need to do something bold. We can't just stay the US Army. What's going to happen, and this is only a matter of time, is some general, or some goddamned politician is going to exit a Vault and start ordering us around. And worse they'll order some grunt to start the whole damned cycle again. Another wave of nuclear death. And if that's not enough they'll do it again. You know they will, Lizzy. It ends with us. We won't let them.

Elizabeth Taggerdy: I... I understand. But a Brotherhood? Knights? I'm supposed to call you, what, Elder?

Roger Maxson: Words have power, Lizzy. They build identity. They take on a meaning if you keep using them, even if it didn't exist to begin with. It was the Knights and Scribes after the fall of Rome that protected what was left of Western civilization. So we are the new Knights and our role is similar. But we'll need more than names. We'll need new traditions, our own, well, mythology. Something people can believe to their core.

Elizabeth Taggerdy: Is this necessary?

Roger Maxson: What else can I do? Declare myself President? Make you a Senator? Look around. Something's killing us more than the rads and freaks out there. Depression. People have lost everyone. Every goddam soul. Wives, kids, loved ones, heck even the mailman. We need to replace it with something otherwise people's souls will wither. We'll be little more than walking dead men.

This quick move paid dividents to the Brotherhood as a whole and the Maxson family as a rule. America was a corrupt, bloated institution that would lead to its own death and cannibalization - so Maxson changed it. A cult of personality, a subculture independent from what came before it, a pseudo-monarchical meritocratic collectivistic state. Bound by their tenets and their Leader

Roger Maxson was a visionary, a man who knew that he had to become more than a man, had to become a symbol. And in fact, so did his entire Brotherhood. That what saved them from the ennui of the Enclave and NCR - they're something new, with their God King looking down at them. And it is this same legend and mythology that will allow for their unification under Arthur Maxson as the new High Elder. Two centuries later, people are still willing to join, fight, and sacrifice for the ideals of the Brotherhood and for the Name of Maxson, and with the adaption of some of Lyon's (and honestly, Roger Maxson's) strategies of recruitment, Arthur has ensured that they will keep going too.

If Maxson had instead simply become "Colonel Maxson of the US Army Remnant" I can guarantee he would be forgotten. But Roger Maxson, first High Elder, will be a name that never dies

[evita-shelby]

Prove it

Version of my only other Namor x reader one shot with the dialogue in English.(spanish dialogue)

Gif by @unicornspwnall

You weren’t born yesterday.

There was no possible way for this fucking historical hotel was truly haunted.

There was no cool poltergeist, no ghost ladies giggling in the floral room where the hacienda’s owner’s daughter died suddenly in the eighties, and there was no fucking way there were Mayan Warriors with blue skin led by fucking K’uk’ulkan himself to pay homage to the big rock in the garden.

That had to be some idiot they had hired from town.

You bet your shitty paycheck you knew that dumbass in the slutty green shorts.

“How much are the paying you to do this bullshit every December?” you ask as the man stares at you in horror.

“What?” the man asks before cursing you in Yucatec Mayan, an older type with like no Spanish in it whatsoever.

But it’s still the same language, so you insult him back, which makes it worse.

Especially when you slip back into Spanish and he acts like you just spat in his face.

“This is my mother’s sacred grave!” he shouts at you in Spanish, but you don’t buy it. He is too real looking to be a ghost, that vein popping out on his forehead and the way he gets close enough for you to feel the warmth of a human being lecturing you on your rudeness.

“Yes, I know that is the grave of a woman, but I seriously doubt a woman in the 16th century has a , I don’t know, thirty year old son in the year 2020.” You cross your arms and stand your ground.

Would he be offended if you ask him out for drinks at the shitty hotel cantina once you two get over this?

“And if I told you I am over five hundred years old?” he continues with the farce, and you wonder if its worth it to have another wannabe actor fuck buddy here.

“I’d say you look pretty fit for a five-hundred-year-old geezer, but I’d sooner believe that you get five hundred pesos to show up in such little clothing every fucking winter.” You answer with a scoff, five hundred pesos was a shit rate, that was barely fifty dollars. The cute girl from the local University got paid twice that to do her fake shaman tarot reader bullshit every month.

This fucker should ask Rigo the Owner for more.

He laughs, a slightly bitter thing that tells you he is this close to just killing you outright.

He is handsome, you give him that. And well endowed, which is probably why Rigo’s slutty much younger wife chose him.

The feathers and his outfit look legit, too real, especially the fake jade jewelry. You had to hand it to him, the nose plug and the earrings looked pretty fucking good.

“I would kill you, but I wouldn’t dishonor my mother’s grave with the blood of an idiot who can’t see the difference between a human man and the god, K’uk’ulkan!” he exclaims and you think he may be right.

If the Norse had sexy Thor and whatever his goth brother was, if the Americans can defrost Captain America like frozen meat, maybe, just maybe the weirdo standing here was the Serpent God of Mesoamerica.

Could explain why he looked the same in all the photos since cameras were invented.

Could the man you’ve infuriated so much that he stands there breathing hard and clenching his fists to avoid hitting you be the god, K’uk’ulkan?

“If you really are a god… then prove it.” You say goading him into proving he was fraud. If he is a fraud, he will do anything to make you forget it, like kiss you in anger and get the two of you fired for hate fucking where some of the guests can see you.

You hope he is a fraud; it has been so long since you’ve had a good fuck.

He smiles, one that makes you shake in your metaphorical boots, as he took you by the waist and flew with the weird little wings on his ankles.

“Holy fuck.” You utter as he flies you to the beach.

[bittersweetarts]

How to Disappear - Chapter 2

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x OC

Word count: 3933 words

Summary: Eden Reid can't help her curiosity, and Soldier Boy can't help but take advantage of that curiosity.

WARNINGS: Cursing, substance abuse, minor violence

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3 - AO3 Page

Chapter 2: Sweet

While Eden scoured for her co-worker, Matt’s phone number, and frantically begged for his plug’s contact info, Soldier Boy made himself home in Eden’s cabin. And the first item in his agenda whilst doing so, was to steal beer from Eden’s fridge… multiple bottles, without asking.

“This Bud Light shit’s not too bad.”

Soldier Boy remarked as roamed around Eden’s living space, while she stood not paying attention him, hunched over her kitchen counter, texting Jenna, the woman who was generous enough to be supplying her (or rather him) some blow. Unfortunate for Soldier Boy though, Jenna would not drive up to Norvin Green Forest just for her.

Setting her phone down on the counter, Eden took a breath and turned to face Soldier Boy, who was already watching her, and the two stared at each other. Soldier was still dressed in his ruined costume, and Eden momentarily wondered whether he was comfortable. Who the fuck cares, Eden thought, and snapped herself back to reality, pressing her lips together before speaking up.

“I found someone who selling, but she’s unavailable tonight. I’ll drive by to pick it up tomorrow”

At that, Eden saw Soldier Boy’s jaw clench before he feigned a smile, not saying anything.

The room was deathly-silent, and Eden felt that it was likely she was going to be killed if she did not think quick. Turning around and opening one of her cupboards, she pulled an unopened bottle of whiskey she had bought a very long time ago and mustered up as much charm in her tone as she could.

“I’ve got whiskey, and I can make something to eat. You must be hungry.”

Eden could feel the fakeness in her demeanor, and cursed herself for being such a terrible actor, but it seemed to work, as Soldier Boy walked up to her and took the whiskey bottle from her hand before responding.

“That would be nice, doll.”

Eden was now pressed against the counter, and could feel Soldier Boy’s acidic breath on her face as he spoke. He did not step back or create any distance as he opened the bottle one-handedly and took a swig. Pressing her lips together out of nerves, Eden side-stepped out of his proximity, and approached her fridge, glad that she always gets her groceries after she finishes work for the weekend.

With her fridge and pantry full, she willed herself to calm down and started making a midnight meal, as Soldier Boy leaned against the counter near her, and began to grill her about who she was, how he had ended up in her home, and what the fuck has happened since he last had opened his eyes.

The savory scent of seared meatballs took hostage of the cabin’s living room and kitchen, and as Eden continued to cook, Soldier Boy’s mood seemed to improve.

“… and the Super-Goldilocks is back in the Seven, forgiven just like that?”

“I don’t know, I kind of forgot about Starlight and she hasn’t been on the news in ages. I think she’s quit, that is if quitting is an option.”

Eden responded passively whilst stirring the pot of pasta, and Soldier Boy let out a loud, humorless laugh. The American ex-hero was now more than half-way through the large whiskey bottle, now dressed in oversized grey sweats and a dark shirt, or rather it was oversized for Eden, but him just right. Eden hated to admit it, but she doubted anything would look bad on him.

Dinner was going to take some time – Eden made the strategic choice to make something reasonably time-consuming, in case he intended to kill her post-meal, and in the event he’d kill her because the food was bad – and Eden had offered her shower, spare toiletries and a change of clothes after he had conducted his interrogation of her.

“Denver, Colorado.”

“So, you’re a Coloradan.” Soldier Boy asked, staring at her intently as she cleaned and chopped some onions, in her sweats and sandy-brown hair in a high pony.

“Born and bred.”

“Age.”

“Twenty-five. Turning twenty-six in a few months.” Eden did not see Soldier Boy raise his brows at her.

“What do you want from me?” This confused Eden, who furrowed her burrows.

“Nothing.”

“And you have never worked for Vought?”

“Nope, not interested.”

“And Butcher?”

“Butcher what?” Eden turned around to face the man in her cabin, setting down the knife she held onto the cutting board. “… You mean have I killed anyone? No, I don’t really like hurting people.”

The questions began to trail off and finish, and Eden’s answers seemed to satisfy Soldier Boy, as did her meal she prepared, which was a warm meatball stroganoff.

Eden wasn’t blind and could see that Soldier Boy was big, so she plated as much as possible on a large plate, and placed it on the single plain plastic mat which was laying on the kitchen dining table, along with a fork and knife. Soldier Boy had been already sat at the table, and smiled at her oddly enthusiastically.

“Bon appetite.” Eden said tiredly as she sat down a seat away from her guest, who had already began eating ravenously, ignoring her.

Unlike Soldier Boy, who only seemed more alive as each moment passed, Eden was exhausted, and could feel that tiredness in her bones. Probably due to that tiredness, Eden sat in silence, expressionless, as she watched her guest empty his plate and let out a satisfied burp.

“That was not half-bad, doll.”

Soldier Boy commented as he took another swig of the whiskey. But before he was able to set it down on the dining table, Eden grabbed the bottle, now not only tired but irritated by his comment, and chugged it near to its end. As she did, Soldier Boy met her brown eyes, lips quirked with a tilted head, as though amused by her little outburst. His face tilted down, as though daring her to say something, and with liquid courage, Eden did just that.

“Are you going to kill me? I’m tired, so if you’re not going to, I’m going to bed. Feel free to sleep on the couch, in the guest room, or don’t. You can leave, I really don’t care.”

As she finished speaking, the brunette could feel her head begin to spin, and dropped the bottle onto the table before pushing herself off her seat and stamping to her bedroom, not bothering to wait for her guest’s response, who simply raised his brows at her outburst and finished off the bottle.

Who the fuck does he think he is? Eden thought as she collapsed onto bed. Her bedroom door was open and Eden did not even bother to change before falling asleep.

The blaring, repetitive high-pitched sound of Eden’s alarm penetrated into her sleep, and as she woke up, Eden cursed herself for forgetting to switch it off for the weekend. It was a Saturday morning, so why the fuck would she need to be up at half past six in the morning.

Her eyes burned as she started at her ceiling, which was beginning to get lighter, signaling the start of a new day. Eden was just about to drift back into sleep, until she remembered the night before, and the large dangerous man in her cabin.

Soldier Boy.

Suddenly Eden’s heart began to race again and involuntarily the brunette sat up, as her body now jolted into complete consciousness.

Fucking hell. Eden thought, as she reluctantly sat up in her bed, still tired but now sleepless.

The November freeze was beginning to set, her room failing to maintain its warmth. On top of her clothing, which still reeked of cooked beef and seasoning, Eden threw on an oversized lilac hoodie and draped herself with her blanket as she walked out her room, and looked around her quiet house. Except for the unmade guest bed and last night’s cooking, there was no sign of him, and Eden wondered whether he had left.

As she cleared the mess from last night, the thought of him gone brought her relief, until she looked out the kitchen window and saw the fucker on the cabin’s deck, watching the sunrise.

Sighing, opened the kitchen back-door, and blanket still draped over her, Eden walked up to Soldier Boy, who did not react in any way, instead just watching the mountains and the trees against the backdrop of the sun rising. The morning birds began their song, and Eden would alternate between watching the scene and glancing at Soldier Boy, who stood unphased in the freezing cold in sweats and a thin black shirt, which was tight against his built chest and massive arms.

Of course he doesn’t feel the fucking cold.

“It’s a nice view.”

Soldier Boy was the first to break the silence, and as he spoke, the winter sun cast a golden hue onto his face. He was still watching the trees whilst Eden watched him, and as a sharp wind passed, Eden tighten the hold on her blanket. Not knowing what to say, and definitely not pegging him for a sentimental guy, Eden mumbled in agreement, looking away.

“It is.”

Eden was right, Soldier Boy was not a sentimental guy, and he was never one to appreciate nature. He didn’t give a fuck about it, never did, but for some reason, it caught his attention now. He didn’t feel like himself, not since he woke, and whilst Eden slept, Soldier Boy was left with his thoughts, processing what had happened to him.

He was betrayed by his team, again. He felt lost, again. He felt like a nobody, forgotten, a fucking loser, again. And he was so fucking sick of it. Still looking out, feeling oddly vulnerable, Soldier Boy spoke in his usual cadence.

“My name is Ben, short for Benjamin. Did you know that?”

Eden remained quiet, and Soldier Boy turned to look at the girl next to him, who shook her head again, still intimidated, and Ben chuckled in response.

“You can use your words, doll.”

“No.” Eden’s throat felt dry, and she still didn’t know what else to say.

“I was born in Philly. We don’t have as many mountains there.” Soldier Boy stated simply, before looking out at the mountains again, finishing.

“This really is a nice view.”

In this moment, Eden wondered whether he really was that threatening, or whether she was being a coward and judging him too harshly. Taking a breath, she spoke up.

“If you think is nice, you’d love Colorado. The mountains are much grander, and the nature is breathtaking.”

Soldier Boy turned back to face Eden, tilting his head.

“Then why’d you leave?”

The brunette took no offense, and smiled as she answered.

“No reason to stay.”

Turning away, Eden stripped the blanket off herself, ignoring Soldier Boy’s burning stare and deflected before walking away.

“How do pancakes sound? Not too brag, but my Home-Ec teacher said that my pancakes were the best in the class.”

“Bet they are.” Soldier Boy responded loudly, smiling with his teeth, his green eyes fixated on the now visible outline of Eden’s ass as she walked away, her hips naturally swaying with every step she took.

Eden quickly noticed that Soldier Boy – or rather, Ben – actually really liked her cooking, and she wondered whether that was why he hung about her cabin. The leftovers of last night’s pasta must have been finished while she was asleep, and similarly, the pancakes she made in the morning were completely devoured.

The only thing Ben seemed to like more than her cooking, was the weed she bought from Jenna. And Jesus, did it stink up the cabin. Eden thought she could handle it - the depletion of her fridge, the heavy scent of Ben’s smoking, and occasionally, some strangely intrusive questions – and on that first day, she did. When Eden wasn’t cooking food, she was sat on the living room sofa reading whilst the TV was playing and Ben was smoking and drinking, and when Ben wasn’t smoking or drinking, he took it upon himself to start a one-sided conversation.

“College?”

“Dropped out.”

“A good girl like you? Bullshit, I don’t believe it.”

“I’m not forcing you to, but I doubt I’d be living in the woods and working as a receptionist forty minutes away if I did graduate.”

Ben continued asking personal questions about her and occasionally opened-up about himself. Eden didn’t learn much, but she did learn that he went to boarding school, and that his favorite movie was A Streetcar Named Desire.

“Marlon Brando, now that’s a real man.” Eden doubted that Ben knew anything about the Last Tango in Paris movie controversy which involved Brando, and considering he literally belonged to the previous century, she doubted he’d care.

With that personality, he should thank God for his looks. Eden thought more than once.

As the days passed, Eden did not expect Soldier Boy to be so genial, but she didn’t question it. If he was going to hang around her, she’d prefer him curious and amiable, rather than hands wrapped around her throat (and not in the sexy way).

After two days of this though, Eden grew quickly tired.

Rather quickly, the food in her house ran out and Soldier Boy – correction, Ben – had almost finished the weed, despite her purchasing a copious amount. Eden wasn’t made out of money, obviously she wasn’t, no one was nowadays with rising fuel and energy prices.

And since her guest was not exactly bringing anything to the table, and Eden had to go back to her job the following morning, she started to feel a little tense. On top of that, Eden was used to being alone, having been like that for years now, and having company honestly drained her.

“Hey Ben.”

Dressed in her red coat, Eden walked up to her guest after clearing up the dishes from dinner (it was lasagna, so thankfully not that many dishes).

Ben was sat on a wooden chair on the deck, now in a simple white t-shirt, still smoking and drinking. As usual, when Eden was not talking to him, Ben sat alone with his own thoughts, and Eden wondered what took up so much space on his mind.

Soldier Boy hummed in response as she walked up to him, taking the seat beside him. It was rather late, still cold, but the sky was clear, and the moon shone brightly.

“I’ve got to get up early for work tomorrow, and I’ll be away until the evening –”

“Skip it.” Ben interrupted Eden with a grin, before taking another puff of his joint.

“I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not.”

This time when Ben exhaled the smoke, the wind blew it onto Eden’s face. Eden was never a particularly patient person, and unsurprisingly, she found herself irritated by this.

“Because who’s then going to pay for that weed. You’ve already asked me to get more, and money doesn’t fucking grow on the trees.”

A crack in Soldier Boy’s friendly façade appears, as his smile tightens.

“Cussing is not attractive, doll.”

“And neither is bumming it. Go fuck yourself. And my name is Eden, not doll. It’s twenty-twenty-two, not the fucking nineteen-seventies.”

Eden’s response was quick, and with every word, her voice raised, meanwhile Soldier Boy’s smile minimized and jaw clenched, as though he were restraining himself. Unlike Soldier Boy though, Eden could not bite her tongue and continued her rant.

“And while we’re at it, what exactly are you – are we – doing? I’ll be going to work and you’ll be here, doing what? You’re welcome to stay, but I don’t particularly want Homelander or Vought on my front-porch, ready to discard me as collateral damage.”

As she spoke, she unconsciously started gripping the chair’s arm, which began to crack, and Soldier Boy noticed this.

“I’m sure you can take care of yourself, doll.”

“Of course I can look after myself, but just because you’re here doesn't mean that I'm a little housewife, cooking and cleaning after you, whilst also working and watching my back for your enemies.”

At this, Soldier Boy’s patience finished and now he spoke in the same spiteful tone.

“I didn’t ask for your help, or for anything from you. You decided to play hero all on your own. And you know what I fucking think, sweetheart, I think that your panties have been dry for a very long time and you jumped at the first opportunity you saw a real man who could fix that for you. Nothing to be ashamed of or get prissy about.”

Soldier Boy’s monologue was cut short by the sound of sharp slap.

Eden, stood now, didn’t hold herself back when she slapped her hand against Soldier Boy’s cheek, and her super strength definitely showed, as Soldier Boy cupped the point of impact with his free hand, dropping his joint to the ground, his eyes now glazed with a look that infuriated Eden even more. Eden didn’t care if Soldier Boy would kill her now and continued insulting him.

“Jesus Christ are you delusional. I would stab myself a million before I even fucking touch you–”

Eden was unable to finish her sentence, because in the blink of an eye, her face was grabbed firmly, and she felt warm lips aggressively press against hers, and hairs scratch against her skin.

Eden didn’t even really like him, so why the fuck was her first instinct to reciprocate, close her eyes and open her stupid fucking mouth. And as they made out in the freezing cold, Eden suddenly felt to warm in her coat, and as Soldier Boy pulled her on top of himself, Eden, still very much kissing him, started peeling off her coat, feeling just too warm.

And the most embarrassing part was not Eden’s reciprocity, but that Soldier Boy was the first one to pull away and hold her back as she instinctively pushed forward to meet his lips again.

“You were saying, doll.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

Snapped to reality for a moment, Eden tried to pick herself up and get up from Ben’s lap, but before managing to do so, with strong hands around her waist, Ben pushed her back in, letting their lips collide again. Irritated with him yet again, Eden stubbornly refused open her mouth until he lightly bit her bottom lip, causing her to gasp, giving his tongue to opportunity to enter her mouth again.

Not that Eden would ever admit to him, but it had been a long time since she’d last have sex, specifically since her God U days before she broke up with her ex, and she has been practically celibate since. And something inside her took control as she was forced by her intuition, and ignored her rationality, similar to when she first saw Soldier Boy on the beach weeks ago.

Without realizing, Soldier Boy picked up Eden and she instinctively wrapped her around his waist, and her hands moved to his hair, gripping on the strands and inciting a groan from him. His lips were on her own, and on her jaw, neck, ears, chest, stomach, legs, and practically everywhere else, and as the night went on, the two of them did it in the kitchen, living room, and eventually reached her bedroom.

Ben would call her sweet, tell her she tasted just like that, and Eden would tell him to shut up, and to keep going. The brunette did not even know that this part of herself existed, the part of her that was so set on simply just fucking someone else and actually enjoying it, pleasure with no real love or attachment present, and Soldier Boy was more than happy to provide that experience for her, repeatedly, all night long.

When Eden woke up, she was not greeted by a warm body next to hers, but by the familiar blaring beeping of her stupid alarm. Eden’s eyes were blurry, and her head pounded as she sat up to switch off her stupid alarm, which informed her of the time. Half past six.

Eden’s head hurt, and as she rolled back to bed and turned to her side, flashes of the previous night came to her.

Her nails scratching his bare back as he entered her.

His teeth sinking into her chest, leaving temporary wet marks.

The bitter taste of his mouth, and how she didn’t entirely hate it.

Ben.

As Eden started remembering, she sat back up and her bed creaked, something it did not previously do. The brunette looked around her room, only to find it empty. Eden assumed that Ben probably went back to the guest bedroom, or maybe decided to get an early start to his drinking and smoking.

It wasn’t her business, but Eden was curious, and her feet moved on their own accord, first to the guest bedroom, which was empty, bed still undone of course. The house was quiet, with only the birds chirping in the background.

Odd.

As Eden ventured of to the living room, and then the kitchen, she found the place a mess – with throw pillow all over the place and glass shards scattered in one corner, from when Eden accidentally pushed it off the kitchen counter only some hours earlier – a consequence from their late-night activities.

Eden’s eyes scanned her living space, but no sign of the large man who had haunted her house for the past weeks could be found. Eden looked around the cabin’s front porch and back-deck, but it was just the same, empty. The only sign left of Soldier Boy was the small pile of laundry he left on the ground, and the stench of weed that occupied various spaces around the cabin.

Stop it.

Eden scolded herself as she went to freshen up for the day and get ready for work. Soldier Boy – Ben – probably felt cooped up and decided to go for a run or explore the area. And even if he left, who the cares. Eden sure as hell shouldn’t. Ben intruded in her space, contributed nothing, wasted her time and energy, and made such a mess. He was not nice, and did not sincerely thank her even once.

Sure, he was a good fuck, but that’s it. And was he even a good fuck if he didn’t even bother to put on a condom or ask if she was on birth control? That’s the thing about men, you couldn’t count on them for anything. That’s exactly why Eden had a copper IUD, because even with her ex of two years, she couldn’t count on him (apparently it didn’t feel as good with rubber).

Anyways, it doesn’t matter.

Or that’s what Eden tried to tell herself as she brushed her hair and applied lipstick, before heading out of her home, dressed in her usual outfit for work, a modest black dress and her coat. Glancing at the hallway clock, Eden observed the time, and saw that it was almost eight, which was the perfect time to leave, as she’d still have time to grab a coffee before reaching the clinic.

But as she looked at the trinket tray which sat on the cabinet by the door, she found it bare, missing something really important.

The keys to her Mazda.

The keys to her fucking Mazda were missing from the place she always kept them at, ever since she moved to her cabin over four years ago.

“Motherfucker.”

Author's Note: I'm feeling a little delirious, and I've proofread this but am not entirely certain about its quality and grammar. If there are any mistakes or something doesn't make sense, apologies! On another note, I've started watching Supernatural 🫡 Jensen Ackles, oml Also, if you are enjoying the story, I always appreciate comments as they really motivate me!

– Chapter 3

[jewishrizahawkeye]

hello fellow members of the tortured poets department.

i shall now enter into evidence the smallest man who ever lived and analyze it.

previous days:

fortnight; THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT; my boy only breaks his favorite toys; down bad; so long, london; but daddy i love him; fresh out the slammer+florida!!!; guilty as sin?; who’s afraid of little old me?; i can fix him (no really i can), loml+chloe et al. (part 0.5), i can do it with a broken heart

what can i say about this song that hasn’t been said? it’s a beautiful song about coming to terms with being used and hurt as well as the anger left over and knowing you’ll probably never truly be over it.

there are so many lines that help portray this. one of my favorites is the line “you stuck me on your wall with push pins���. because on one hand, if we follow the constant theme of science and hospitals and being experimented on, one could view this line as a bug or frog pinned to a wall, for decoration or dissection. (which ties into the fortnight music video and how the person she loved experimented on her). but if we look at it in connection to i can do it with a broken heart and taylor’s fame it can also be he stuck her on her wall like a poster. that he thought of her similarly to how we, fans of her, treat taylor. he created a version of her in his mind, a foreshadow to chloe et al., the girl of his american dreams that he said was the love of his life and played make believe and dolls like how the rest of the world treats her.

which can also tie back into the fortnight video. perhaps the two scientist were meant to represent us, the general public, and how we treat her. but he’s also there, watching as they torture her, another nod to chloe et al., and only pulls the plug at the last moment. but it doesn’t erase how he hurt her. and maybe that’s because he loved the idea he built of taylor that we all share but once he actually saw and touched her he realized it was fake. so he ended it, ended her suffering, and left her but only made it worse for her by causing longer pain.

but that can be a kinder interpretation. because as a whole this song is angry and doesn’t view him in a kind way. she asks if he hurt her like this because someone made him or he wanted information. because she can’t understand how someone can just hurt another person so casually like he did. by giving her a false hope and ending her six year relationship only to leave her high and dry after two weeks. which is why “and you deserve prison but you won’t get time” hits so hard because we all know a person who we consider deserves prison but will never serve because it either can’t be proved or it isn’t really a crime. or maybe in this case it’s that this man can still continue on with his life and career and receive little hate for what he says and does because he simple doesn’t care.

there’s a lot of layers and levels to this that are very self explanatory and are redundant of me to repeat. but all and all this song is so heartbreaking and the fact that taylor says “you didn’t measure up/in any measure of a man” is so petty of her and i love it. tell the world he sucks in bed and has a small dick.

anyway, fuck this guy. i hope he gets hit by a shoe.

[nfumbewalk]

Busy Critter! 💀

Three aspects of Santa Muerte, taken some time ago.

I'm a busy critter today. And I found out wonderful news! The steelhead fishies are coming back! The Native Americans told folks long ago to bust up a dam that was killing the steelhead population and they finally listened!! Yay! 😊 I love fish and hate ppl who mess with them. Still wanna be a fish doctor. Lol! Well, seriously, I would totally be an Ichthyologist and yes, I knew how to spell it. Geek! I'm a Chinook salmon lover. 💖 Yes, I eat them. Its the cycle of life.

Anyway, writing stuff today. I'm coming up with my own card set for divination. Very very simple. A kid could draw the images for me cos I cannot. The meanings are soooo easy. I've come up with 32 cards, well, there's numbers 1-10, then 22 picture cards. Reminds me of Lenormand cards but I'm trying not to mimic them. When ready, I'll get the blank cards from Amazon.

I don't know where the idea came from, but come to think of it, I was thinking of Rodolfo and he fluttered in recognition. So I think he inspired me. Especially because there's two "Muerto" cards. His presence has been really strong lately. He says this is the time of year that he had his accident. When he was In the military - he mangled his right hand. Guess it was bad enough to get discharged because he couldn't work his job. He says he nearly lost two fingers. I haven't seen his hand yet. Scared to! I'm not weak, I just hate to think or see that he got hurt. My empathy goes nutters.

Today i saw a real good edge of *white* freaking hair on my head! I wasn't quite ready for that. Who is? 😅 Gen X getting old! Though my husband has an almost white beard and tendrils of white in his dirty blonde hair. All MY fault!! Lol! He's five years my senior but fuck, I know that dealing with my shit aged him. Funny thing is that it took my dad forever to go grey and even at the time of his death, he still had a lot of black hair and under his beard??!!

He barely aged!! He looked like a much younger man, not a 74 year old. I really was floored. My family ages pretty good but we don't live that long. Its my dad's side, I think the Native American genes, because they age quite well. Ojibwe or Cree, not sure, but I lean toward Ojibwe more. Some ppl say I look Native, but I don't know. When i part my hair and put two braids in, yeah, I do. But I thought I heard Grandpa Ben say we were Cree. I'd love to know, but my family doesn't talk. We just don't. Its the generational gap.

Anyway, its just funny how all of this stuff I'm doing is coming together and I don't need a soul to teach me anything or initiate me! Ha! I think this is what my old Tata Antonio was alluding to years ago. He did tell me that I didn't need anyone. That I already had it in me. And he came to me recently and said he was really proud of what I was doing with Muerteria. Hmm. Yep, its all making sense now. Think I've been in the dark for a bit! 😂 Antonio said that I didn't need initiation. OMG. I'm so dumb.

I have been torturing myself for years. Don't need any of it! I don't need to ever wear white again!!! Yes! Woot! I'll only put it on my head for cleansings, that's it! I love white, just not clothing. 😆 i exclusively use white candles. Lol.

Sooo...I'm working on my Etsy shop. Not plugging it. I'm not even putting a link. Trying to figure out what sells. I put up a special Muerteria tarot reading. Hope it gets views. I updated all of my ads. I'm really just charging the most for the rituals because they are expensive to do and maintain for a month, some are shorter.

My Mama Chola Wealth ritual is the most money because I have to go to the river weekly and float an offering upstream. Plus her other offering is not appealing, and I also have to go outdoors for it and leave it by a tree. Palo "deities" or rather mpungo, like their offerings in nature. I remember going to the Siuslaw Nat'l Forest and leaving a steak for Zarabanda. That was definitely received! Even my husband Tom could feel it. It was like Zarabanda "shook" the land, almost felt like an earthquake.

I'm just trying to offer things that ppl are going to be interested in and can benefit from. I'm not into offering outlandish shit for a thousand dollars and then give no physical item? What's up with that? WTF is a chi ball anyway???!! That sounds New Age and fake. Ppl "give" those "chi balls" out a lot. How fucking dumb. I would want a real tactile item. I've done just digital rituals and I felt terrible. I'm no longer doing those. Readings, yes. Rituals, no. There are TONS of frauds on Etsy. Its Snake Oil version 2024! Utter fakes on Etsy - the lot of them. If someone says they can spiritually cleanse you without being WITH you - fraud! Run away!

Sorry but I'm old school. Before the internet. I learned magic from paper. Something called a book. The internet is full of trash information. Learn discernment before attempting to learn online. It doesn't hurt to read a book. Try a book more than 30 years old. Most of my good books are more than 50-60 years old. Old info? Not really because modern books just steal from my favorite old books! 😂 And flagrantly, without citing their sources.

There is a great book with tons of information. Its not horribly rare. Amazon can hook you up. "A Treasury of Witchcraft," by Harry Wedeck. Fun book if you really know what you are doing. Really useless if you don't. Hardcovers are spendy. My hardcover was under $10. This book is my go to for old effective spells.

You will find with old books that they are not politically correct, not inclusive and not sensitive to a lot of our issues of today. If that bothers you, avoid all books before 1980. Not saying that the 80's were good. But there were vast improvements. I know. Because. I've. Read. A LOT. Of books. 😉 I can give horrid examples of insensitive language that ppl used to use. But I just don't care myself. I care for others though, and that counts.

To end this old wind bags post? No beer until after noon o'clock. My mom's rule. Grandma popped her cap off at 10 AM. 😂 Sad but true.

M.M. 💖💀💖

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

Participation Trophies Rock!

Stephen Jay Morris

8/31/24

©Scientific Morality.

            Conservative males like to mock anything that smacks of coddling or sensitivity. After all, men don’t cry. According to them, the true meaning of masculinity is to be immune from hurt and act cavalier with a fake smile. Be nonchalant! Only one problem with that edict:  If you don’t possess emotional sensitivity, then you have brain dysfunction. On the other hand, if you are hypersensitive, then you have a psychological problem. Most absolutist propositions are fucking retarded. I watched hours of black and white television to appreciate color T.V. This can apply to the philosophy of life.

            What is wrong with a memento that designates being a part of something? There cannot be any winners without losers. Plus, trophies look nice on your fireplace mantle. You are not rewarding sensitivity or weakness to spare hurt feelings. What you are doing is thanking someone for PARTICIPATING!!! What’s wrong with that? They do give out Meritorious Service Citation Certificates in the military. For what? For participation, you dumb shit! Why are people on the right so fucking stupid?!

            Some call it pride, others call it ego. What’s wrong with getting recognition for helping a cause, a sports team, or a nation? How about an art movement? Vincent van Gogh was the founding father of Impressionism. Was he rewarded? No! He died in poverty and neurologic illness. Cracker plebeians believe that the only individuals who should be rewarded are the soldiers who kill enemy combatants in some useless or important war. Bravery should be rewarded like the work of astronauts or firefighters. How about scientific innovations or artistic achievements?

            Now, to my main subject. How many baseball players never got recognized for their participation in organized sports? Without players, there cannot be a Babe Ruth or a Hank Arron. Do you know who the pitcher was when Hank Arron hit the homerun that broke Babe Ruth’s record? Of course you don’t. Only the so-called heroes prevail. All this macho eugenics mentality is why we have fascism. It’s not about being fair, it is about historical correctness.

            It was considered normal for American boys to aspire to be firefighters or policemen. Then something happened in the 50’s. When Elvis appeared on the scene, every boy wanted to be a Rock star. Rick Nelson for example. He wanted to impress his girlfriend by imitating Elvis. It worked. Five hits later, he was grateful to Elvis. I’m not going to give the history of Rock and Roll here, so let’s just cut to the chase. The Beatles was a band for teeny bopper girls, and the Rolling Stones was for the boys. All teenage boys loved the Stones. What happened in the suburbs was, while dad was at work, the kids used the garage for rehearsal space. There were these small amplifiers and Silver Tone guitars you could buy from Sears department stores. There were drum kits made in Japan. The singers of these garage bands would plug into the guitar player’s Amp, and then went on to Rock heaven. In 1965, you could walk by any garage and hear some pimple-faced kid sing “Satisfaction.” That year, a thousand Rock bands were created.

            By 1966, some garage bands had made it onto the local charts, and some made it onto the national. Most bands only played at school dances and parties. Some made their own records and produced 500 copies. They took them to radio stations, but they just ended up in the trash. By 1967, most bands broke up and went on to college, while others went to fight in Vietnam. The bands whose records made it onto the charts became what is known as “One-hit Wonders.” Others tried their hands at psychedelic music but weren’t into it, so they broke up.

            The sound that those 1965/66 bands tried to emulate was that of the Rolling Stones. Funny, the Stones tried to copy old black singers but sounded like Cockney punks instead. Lead signers of American Garage bands tried to sound like Mick Jagger, but instead, sounded like snotty delinquents from the streets. Some wrote their own songs and recorded them on reel-to-reel tape recorders, many of whom left those tapes on a dusty shelf in their parents’ garage. Amazingly, many of those tapes have been found.

            In 1952, a compilation of American Folk Blues and Country music was released in a triple record release. Because of that record, a folk movement began, and it took off in 1958. It ended in 1965. If not for those recordings, no one would know who the hell Woody Guthrie was.

            Then in 1972, an album series called “Nuggets” came out. Produced by Lenny Kaye, they featured a compilation of various groups who’d had songs on the charts in 1965, 1966, and even 1967. Some who’d had the garage sound had been on minor labels. One, for example, was the Standells. But the kicker is:  they’d never seen a garage in their life! They’d wanted to be a pop band like the Beatles but failed at that. So, they imitated the Rolling Stones and baa-boom! They created the proto punk sound. They had this one hit song, “Dirty Water,” and minor hits like, Sometimes Good Guys Don’t Wear White.” That song’s famous fade-out yell went: “If you don’t like this long hair, get yourself a crew cut, baby!”  In the 80’s, the skinheads did just that.

            As the years went on, the compilation albums featured more and more obscure bands. Most of these band members are in their 70’s and 80’s now. A lot of them had families and worked at jobs they hated. Some of them became alcoholics, drug addicts, peeping Toms, and Republicans. Sadly, the only way many of them could get recognized was by getting killed in Vietnam.

There should be a tribute to those thousands of musicians who had dreams of groupies, music awards, gold records, and to be on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine. That would be the American way. There is nothing wrong in showing your appreciation to anyone.  Lift someone’s ego today! 

[thessalian]

Thess vs The Blessing/Suck Balance

The first thing I will say is that yes, I am well aware that I post a lot about American politics, even though I don't live there. I am going to continue doing so, for a lot of reasons. Like ... most of my nearest and dearest live there, and most of them are in really horrible positions if Trump gets back in. Like ... even if I didn't know anyone in the fucking country, I have this little thing called empathy, and I don't want anyone to suffer what Trump would be willing to do to the US. Like ... also the passingly curious fact that politics does not exist in a vacuum and Trump getting into the White House the first time was already seen as proof that some really horrific shit is not only acceptable but desirable, and this country is bad enough as it is without more of that populist bigoted bullshit. Seriously, having been through the whole "elect a populist leader" bullshit back in 2019 ... vote for Biden. Hell, if the Democrats have to scrap Biden and put a head of lettuce as the Democratic candidate, vote for the fucking lettuce. It would have done a better job than Liz Truss, and will certainly do a better job than Trump.

Anyway.

My migraine is still torturing me. This isn't helped by rising temperatures. It's supposed to get up to 32C tomorrow (nearly 90F, by the way), and ... yeah, a) I'm more sensitive to heat than I used to be because fibro, and b) the meds I'm on are apparently less effective in the heat. Because my life is just fun that way.

However, there was some good about today, and oddly enough, it came out of my stupid Zoom staff meeting. I mean, most of it wasn't great. The bad news was:

They hired New Girl as a permanent member of staff, same as Temp (who I will continue to call temp because that's how we know her now). So I guess that explains why she persistently takes only all the smaller, shorter bits of typing - why should she try harder when she was made permanent on minimal effort? Ugh.

The devs who gave us our frankly janky electronic records system are currently trying to code transcription software into said janky electronic records system. The jackasses do things according to what they find useful and user-friendly, and kind of ignore what functionality the rest of us need to consider it user-friendly, so I'm not looking forward to this. But it's IT, so it'll take half-past forever, so I won't worry about it yet.

They want to add more non-typing work to our collective plates. Scruffman was like, "Look, lemme show you how to do this thing but we won't be starting to ask you to do it, like, tomorrow or anything", as apparently it'll only come to us when we're understaffed and/or he's away. And seemed a little taken aback when I asked him to actually write down the procedure so that we could have it to refer to when we were asked to do the thing, because he won't be there to ask for guidance.

Scruffman does not have an inside voice and having him literally in my ear via earbuds was not a fun experience, given migraine.

However, all that badness aside, here's the good news:

The other issue I flagged up when we were asked to start helping with that particular non-typing work was how hard it was going to be on a small laptop screen. Also flagging up how I requested a proper monitor and a USB hub to plug it into back in fucking January and that apparently stalled right the hell out. So Scruffman's going to try to expedite that, at least. Also Goblin's a little happy with me because me bringing that up flagged up to her that she'd do better with a proper monitor too.

When we got to Any Other Business? I was migrainous and a little fed up in general, so I brought up a few of The Annoyances - specifically the two who refuse to actually dictate a block key and the one who doesn't pause recording while taking measurements and thus makes us listen to an awful lot of silence over the dictation. Apparently, those three had been driving Goblin up the wall too. Now, Scruffman seemed to want us to take that to the guy in charge of the dictating doctors ourselves, but I flagged up that it's actually way more professional to have it coming from the secretary's line manager, since just one of us flagging up the issue could be ignored as just one of us with a problem, and all of us flagging up the issue in separate emails would just be petty. So Scruffman accepted that and hopefully this will make a few of The Annoyances less annoying. (Though nothing will make one of those particular three Annoyances less annoying because ... well, accent. Word salad. It's a thing.)

So I'm trying to focus on the silver lining here. Shame it's kind of balanced by suck in terms of my professional life.

I don't want to cook dinner. I want a curry. Eh well.

[moeitsu]

This shit-post is dedicated to my weird ass friends and the most out of pocket things they've said that I've written in the quote book I've kept in my notes since 2019. Enjoy:

The mayonnaise did wonders for my hair. -P

The Holy Spirit does not want to suck your balls. -E

That's the scariest thing about Halloween...young women. -N

You can put long pasta in there! -E You mean spaghetti? -M

I don't know what blood type I am, is there an app for that? -G

You already said you wouldn't eat my ass -E

What's your major? -K Oh, I'm American. -G

I'm gonna shit in that trash can. -G

Are we about to exchange insurance cards? -J

I'm pretty sure I don't wanna warm my pussy by the fire. -M

Ugh, I don't wanna be a femboy! -M

If you're so worried about the angles then just stick your fingers in the hole. -M

I wish I could be off the grid. -M Like homeless people? -E

Who needs bleach when you have discharge. -J

Why are there panties in your hat? -G

I think I'm mentally disabled. -M No, you're just mentally ill. -E

It could be a deer with down syndrome. -D

I remember when the only app they had was angry birds. -J

Now that's the kind of guy who should be reproducing. -J

Cute rhymes with stupid. -N

No arms, no legs, not even living. But watches porn. -R

Sweaty balls doesn't sound very appetizing. -T

You're starting to look like a real girl again. -N

I always poop in other people's houses. It's how I establish dominance. -T

No sir, I am from Boston. All I know is drink coffee and cuss. -M

The gas station bathroom was treacherous. Pretty sure I saw blood on the walls. -C

If it doesn't cure you, it'll kill you! -Z

Bone dry dunes? That's where you go when you run out of cum. -E

I live by the thee S's: serve, slay, survive. -G

I will not participate in the ass licking. -E

You white people always have cool ancestors. My ancestors were slaves. -S My ancestors were responsible for that. -G

That gives me a free pass to call you a bitch. I'll take it. -N

Would anyone wanna buy my wick-less candles? Shameless plug I know. -K

C'mere, come into my womb. -G

I like your dads meat. -E

Our family funds the entire therapy on the north shore. -B

You can't be this smart w/o massive mental health problems. -B

She doesn't like gay people? -M Nope, she's up in the air about black people too. -P

We're back to our regularly scheduled racism. -R

That's abortion money, not pedicure money. -K

I'm gonna give you a disability if you don't stop. -M

I can always fuck up chicken. Especially the breast. -N

Nice parking job Alabama. Was your sister giving you head while you were driving? -N

I don't think calories are real. I've never seen one. -M

Do you even know what man boobs are? -E It's literally in the name. -M

Can't men flick their nipples off? -E

Well, 5 out of 6 of us were born with a full spine. -E

What's the point of having a gf if you can't objectify her? -N

Mother fucker we don't own straws. We broke as shit. -N

You're like a lollipop triple dipped in psycho flavor. -P

What are you just not gonna feed your kid so you can afford to go to Disney? -A

Do you think she's trans? Like she was a dude and now she's a guy? -N You mean she was a dude and now she's a girl? -M

The boogeyman wants to suck you're toes. -M He would never, he's asexual. -P

We need a new toilet. -P This is American made! This is a quality toilet! -A

There's no one as Irish as Barack Obama. -N

She called me autistic! -P Well, it couldn't hurt to get tested. -A

The shirt says 'wicked strong' -M It should say 'wicked annoying' -N

What bitch is blowing up your phone? -M Literally your Dad. -N

I'm a white girl, of course I love cheese. -S

Why do bad things keep happening to me? Don't they know who I am! -N

It's because I feel safe here. -M Well, maybe you shouldn't. -N

The real magic happens when you embrace the delusion. -K

Oh look, the Trump tower! What if it just blows up? -R

I'm gonna be honest, I didn't finish the Bible. It's on my DNF shelf. Adam and Eve? I need enemies to lovers. -B

A woman bit me, I'm gonna become a prostitute. No! -S

Technically, I'm bisexual. -M You're too old for labels. -G

[definitelynotciara]

zero- why venus?

masterlist • next

You take a breath, adjusting the light and starting up the camera. This video is slightly more personal than you usually let people, especially fans, know. You adore your fans but some just can’t tell the difference between a friendship and the boundaries that a celebrity sets with a fan. You thought you were pretty damn clear.

“Hey guys I know my name is public but I only allow close friends to call me by it!” is what you said all those years ago, sometime when you first became famous.

Why wasn’t that enough for them?

In hindsight it wasn’t that in depth so you decided to make this video so that everyone would hopefully respect your boundaries. Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean they can just treat you like an object.

“Hi everyone,” you start, smiling your practiced, professional smile at the camera. This is a good start, it's polite and not too confrontational ,“it’s Venus. As you probably guessed from the title of this video, we’re gonna talk about why I chose this stage name.”

You take yet another breath to keep yourself calm.

“To start, I do love my given name. But when I decided to go into the acting business I chose to have a stage name. Because I need to be able to separate my personal life from my life as a celebrity. Beyond all my movies and TV shows, I’m human.” you laugh, in a self deprecating way. “I know, surprising, right? Y/N is for family, and my closest friends. They’ve walked through life with me and know me personally. I mean I’ve known Haj since birth and Tooru since I was like…4? So of course they call me by my real name.”

“So Venus, as you may or may not know, is the Roman Goddess of beauty. Growing up, I was ugly. Like I just went unnoticed throughout most of my life. People made me feel miserable. I didn’t like attention.”

Your door clicks open revealing Hajime and Tooru smiling. Tooru excitedly held up a bag of takeout. The three of you share a house, a childish promise made a reality. (Doesn’t everyone want to live near their best friend?) Hajime pointed at the takeout and mouthed a sentence that looked like “Hurry the fuck up.” You smile, genuinely smile, then turn back to your camera.

“Then one day my brother made a friend, and this guy was like drop dead gorgeous and a complete asshole who was full of himself. But that asshole told me to be more confident in myself. So I did. Because I, unfortunately, am a people pleaser.”

You turn to the door and chortle at Tooru’s reaction.

“If you hadn’t guessed that person was Tooru. And he’s still a drop dead gorgeous asshole who’s a little too full of himself. But he’s also my best friend and one of the first people to believe in me. We got into Greek and Roman mythology together because of an American book series we read. And I decided that going by the name Venus would make me feel more confident in myself.”

You could see Tooru out of the corner of your eye trying not to laugh at your brother who was gesturing towards the dining room. The two of them walked away after that, shutting the door silently.

“Venus represents who I want to be, and who I once was. I hope you all will recognize that I need my own space too and please feel free to call out ‘fans’,” you rolled your eyes, “who call me by my given name and are not personally involved with me. Just be polite about it—unless they aren’t being polite about it. Then you get full reign.” You laugh loudly into your hand.

“Thank you all for everything! And not to shamelessly plug—but I have a new project that will be announced soon so be sure to follow me so that you can stay informed on that. Love you guys. Bye!”

You shut off the camera and groan loudly, yelling out to Tooru and Hajime that you’re done with filming.

You decided to edit it later.

You have your priorities.

And it's them.

[bookoformon]

Ether 10, Part 8. "War!"

The Prophet said there is a Quorum of legal and virtuous characteristics that can be held sacred and observed by a free productive society. We aren't so happy to pay attention to them and need to learn hard lessons, but they are there. They have always been there.

What would you say if you saw on the news that a bunch of kindergartners brought hand grenades, guns, knives, missile launchers, and bunch of fully loaded insulun syringes filled with cystal meth, home colonic machines, fuck machines, toys, dildos, cockrings, masturbation devices, like fleshligts, and vibrating butt plugs, slings, bondage gear, virtual reality glasses and cameras on pedestals to class? You would say, "one thing about living in DC I could never stand...all the goddam Mormons!"

You would think little kids would be taught "raise your hand, don't cut in line, don't tease people or push them around..." but no, we are teaching kids it's okay to bully them, give them drugs, and forcibly give them drugs and then make porn out of them. Our hearts are not only broken, they are empty.

By allowing the Republicans to exist, we are giving the blessing of state power to people who are heartless, allowing them to use it to project force on our soil and on Israel's soil, cringing when we realize it is actually making people mad, like, really, really pissed off.

I speak from experience. After I began trying in earnest to get that 2016 election annulled and Hillary Clinton sworn in, politely asked Phil Mendelsohn of the DC City Council to close the Family Research Council and RNC over it and their many, many civil rights violations, I began to experience their wrath instead of the other way around. President Trump still marches around like his shit don't stink, and the RNC is sitll trying to stir up mischief instead of doing its job of looking after the needs of the American polity and its international partners.

More than once, people like Jerry Falwell, David and Barbara Green, Tony Perkins, Mitt Romney, Mike Pence, Karl Rove, Josh Hawley, Thomas Massie, and Amy Barrett broke into my home with an army brigade of kindergartners and teenagers, all of them Mormons and tried to intimidate me, even try to kill me to get me to stop trying to force the government to handle Donald Trump and his election campaign crimes appropriately. Now he, who is on trial for trying cover up raucous sex with a porn star is telling the world we are crazy.

My attackers remain free to do whatever they want to others, and they have. The same persons that attacked me saw how easy it is in America to organize and do evil in the eyes of the Lord and now hundreds of thousands of people in Gaza and Israel are paying the price. Weapons of war of all sorts or rolling off the assembly line and onto cargo planes and train cars, and there is no end in sight to humanity's wickedness.

Almost all of the persons that attacked me here in DC have also been seen in Israel working alongside Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Iranian Republican Army. They were brought into the country by the Marriott Corporation to work in housekeeping, engineering, and front desk management of their hotels. Many of the incidents I reported to the police took place at a Marriott hotel just down the street from the White House. Some were working in the Bassoon Section of the Congress for Senator Roger Wicker and Lindsey Graham as gay male prostitutes. Michael T. Simet was their favorite, like his mates, a real winner with the chicken dinners if you know what I mean.

I even saw Donald Trump's pot bellied fat Secretary of State Mike Pompeo and Secretary of the Department of Energy Rick Perry hoist a kid who was not old enough to shave into a sling and take turns fuchking him. That doesn't even come close to the number of children his friend Linda Simspen from the Friends of Israel club has put her hands on. Now we find out they were wheeling and dealing with Hamas and Hezbollah in order to formulate an assault on Israel?

These are details the world needs in its possession in order to navigate the crisis that is taking place on Israel's soil and make sound decisions as to what to do about it.

Dick Cheney and the Mormons that attacked me heavily emphasized and premeditated an armed assault on Israel's territory in my presence. The police and FBI did not follow through on my reports, and lo and behold, on January 6, and then on October 7, and recently on a number of College Campuses, the Mormons began projecting force at others. They think the world belongs to them, except it belongs to everyone.

But this concept embodied in the Words of the Gospels and in the Flesh by the Christ is not for them. They used EMPs, guns, rockets, grendades, hack saws, knives and swords against innocent Israelis. They kidnapped them, they planned all of it, hoping to use their terror tunnels and immense stockpiles of weapons and munitions, hidden inside almost every apartment and bunker in Gaza City.

Then the fuckups who think black people are "dark and lazy" put on Palestinian head scarves and started jumping up and down in front of college campuses. Numbered among these were many of the kiddie porn stars I had the misfortune of meeting when they broke into my house.

I have looked these filth and their offspring in the eyes, thousands of times. They are not sane, they are not of the intellect, they are not human. They must pay for stepping foot on the sacred soil of Israel with their lives.

President Biden is therefore in err about the war in Gaza at this present time. The Republicans, Mormons, and their friends in the Middle East must be utterly annihilated. Their intentions and actions suggest a violent and inhumane regime that is well funded, organized, and armed and cannot be allowed to proceed.

Donald Trump, one its benefactors, is clearly ineligible to run for the Office of the President again, and the Republican Party must be disbanded, never again permitted to operate as the spoils of the war against their tyranny and depravity that are spoiling America.

The greatest weapon of war is peace, the greatest contributor to peace is repentance for all the war. Should we need to make war, as in the cases of the Russians, Republicans, and the Mormons, one makes war with the rage of angels, wins it and returns life to normal. This is how free and free thinking societies work.

They have hearts, which are harnessed to their very beings by the grace of God and it is that alone which moves them:

27 And they did make all manner of weapons of war. And they did work all manner of work of exceedingly curious workmanship.

28 And never could be a people more blessed than were they, and more prospered by the hand of the Lord. And they were in a land that was choice above all lands, for the Lord had spoken it.

29 And it came to pass that Lib did live many years, and begat sons and daughters; and he also begat Hearthom.

30 And it came to pass that Hearthom reigned in the stead of his father. And when Hearthom had reigned twenty and four years, behold, the kingdom was taken away from him. And he served many years in captivity, yea, even all the remainder of his days.

Wars in Jewish scriptures are called Sanhedrin, a meeting of Rabbis performed in order to measure the efficacy of the law and improve upon its ability to meet the needs of the human race. In spite of apparent strictures against gay people contained in the Torah, for example, we have decided as a human race to observe the Universal Declaration of Human Rights because this makes life better for a significant portion of mankind and cuts down on all the violence.

This is what wars of all sort are for. A prolonged or ineffective argument is no good, neither is a war that leaves mankind wondering.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 27: And they did make all manner of weapons of war. And they did work all manner of work of exceedingly curious workmanship. The Value in Gematria is 8809, חח‎‎אֶפֶסט, "as an offset."

v. 28: ‎And never could be a people more blessed than were they. The Value in Gematria is 9603, טואֶפֶסג‎‎ ‎, toepseg, "you'll be pissed off."

v. 29: And it came to pass he also begat Lib, "the heart" and Hearthom, "the harness." The Value in Gematria is 4208, דבאֶפֶסח‎ ‎, "the passover."

v. 30: And it came to pass the kingdom was taken away from him. And he served many years in captivity, yea, even all the remainder of his days. The Value in Gematria is 1111, א‎אאא‎‎‎, ayah ayah, ea ea or to be here, is to live on the Island of the Brotherhood of the House Israel."

The cause of mankind, contained in the words we love to hear about at Christmas time and forget the rest of the year, "Peace on earth, goodwill towards men and glory to God on high" has been faltering. If we must argue the case for war and then make war on those who are resistant to these words, then we tell the truth, we do it, observe the Passover and live as friends and brothers exactly like God told us we must do.

Thus is the harness of the heart, and the meaning of the Quorum of mankind.

[blue-eyed-bloodstains]

What song do you want played at your wedding? 💒   oh god not right now please...sigh okay Heaven by 3 Doors Down, that’s our song and will definitely be our song for our dance

List up to three things you own that have fringe on them.   I wouldn’t say fringe really...closest thing I can think of is tassles on a leather jacket? but no fringe

What is one thing you’ve been waiting patiently for for quite some time?   our wedding, since you brought it up...

When was the last time you sat in front of a bonfire? 🔥🪵   the Esser’s 4th of July party a few years ago, 2019 I think?

If you could meet any American Idol contestant (from any season), which one would you choose to meet? 🎤   Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood, hands down! although there’s a few contestants who didn’t win I’d like to meet too

If you could meet any American Idol judge (from any season), which one would you choose to meet?   Luke Bryan babyyyyyy ;)

If you had to choose between competing on American Idol or on Fear Factor, which one would you choose, and why?   oh dear god Idol! I’m not eating anything disgusting and I swear to god if you have anything fucking crawl on me! :| 

Which name do you like best for a girl: Harmony or Harvest?   Harmony, mostly musical reasons but it sounds better too

What is your favorite type of oil?   the kind that helps you get places lol Have you ever been anointed with oil?   huh? umm no?

Which do you like better: the smell of old books, or the smell of new books? either one, love the smell of books

Which smell do you like better: the smell of old books, or the smell of gasoline? 📚 ⛽️   old books, I hate the smell of gas

When was the last time you had a deep conversation with someone?   a lot lately with my fiance and my mom

When was the last time you played with sparklers? 🥢💥   no clue probably the Esser’s party if I wasn’t holding a drink lol

What are three of the most painful things you have ever stepped on?   Imma leave out the generic lego here lol so a plug, a jagged rock, and glass. although just being on my feet is very painful all the time cause I have bad neuropathy in my feet so heh

What is something you have recently realized?   how much hell you go through when you get a DUI...

If you could study abroad for a year in a foreign country, which country do you think you would choose, and why?   hmm the UK or Italy for many reasons

What are three little things in life that you enjoy?   music, animals, driving

If applicable, what song are you listening to right now?   Distance by Faktion

When was the last time you wore your hair up in a bun?   never, I’m ponytail all day every day

If you could choose three US states to visit, which three states would you pick? Hawaii, Texas, Maine (gotta have that fresh lobster!!! and Stephen King lol)

Do you think you express yourself better in writing or out loud?   writing for deeper things, I guess verbal all around though

What’s the most amazing miracle you’ve ever witnessed? ✨   I’m not sure honestly, I’m trying to think but I don’t know...maybe haven’t 

Do you enjoy being home alone?   it’s hell...it really is...although it’s a double edged sword cause I have bad social anxiety so 

What is the most magical thing you’ve ever experienced? ✨   going with the miracle thing, I’m not sure...

What was the last hot beverage you drank? ☕️   coffee I guess? I always get iced, but last month I messed up on a DoorDash order and got hot instead which I don’t mind anyway lol coffee is coffee

What is your favorite season?   summer

Do you think your hair looks better curly or straight?   my hair can’t hold a curl for it’s life, too thick and poker straight so straight 

Have you ever donated blood? 🩸   only in the blood drives in school

Would you rather eat at the Hard Rock Cafe or the Rainforest Cafe?   ....triggering memory of Rainforest so Hard Rock. never been to that one anyway so I’d love to check it out

Would you rather attend a yoga class or a Zumba class?   Zumba would be way too physical for me so yoga

Have you written anything down today? ✍️   just jotting things on the calendar a little bit ago then again it’s only 2:12am so lol

What color is your camera case (if you have one)?   don’t have a camera, use my phone and that’s a dark gray with glitter

What do you consider ideal weather for spring?   cool with a breeze, sunny with little to no clouds

Have you experienced anything supernatural today? ✨   no thank god...can we not? O.O

What are three things you like that start with the same letter as your middle name?   I have two middle names which I’d rather not say on here

What year did you join Facebook?   Feb of 2008

Which do you use more: Facebook or Instagram?   Facebook for sure

Would you say you’ve had a good week so far?   ha no

What are three of your favorite ways to enjoy spring? 🌸   driving with windows down music blaring, windows open enjoying the breeze, looking the flowers and colors

Do you own a pair of pink pants? no