#Rock Against Reagan

[gotankgo]

MDC summer 1984 tour

[mrbopst]

My favorite picture of Dave

[punkrockhistory]

41 years ago today

Punx at the Rock Against Reagan concert, Washington DC, July 3, 1983.

Free concert with Dead Kennedys, MDC, D.R.I. and many other bands

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

more gf ethan

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while. Enjoy!

Games like these are my favorite to read. If you have any fic recommendations, let me know

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

After binging all the Stab movies, you found a new kink to add to your list. Some would say it’s a little dark and twisted, but you didn’t care. Ethan was willing to play and that’s all that mattered.

‘’What am I gonna do with you?’’ Ethan asked, his pretty face covered with a Ghostface mask as he sat over your hips with the blunt side of his knife right under your chin.  

You feigned fear and innocence with your eyes as you looked back at him. ‘’Are you going to kill me, Mr. Ghostface?’’ 

The knife pressed harder on your skin, forcing you to tilt your chin up as he shook his head slowly. ‘’You’re too pretty to end up gutted like a fish.’’ 

Ethan slid his other hand up the surface of your stomach, following the path to your breasts. You were visibly not wearing a bra, the peak of your nipples showing through the material and making Ethan grunt under his mask. Unable to resist, he rubbed his thumb over a nipple and pinched it. 

He pulled down the neckline, his palm closing around one bare breast. ‘’Mmh, that’s a nice pair of tits you have there.’’ You arched into his rough caress, a surprised yelp slipping when he slapped it. Ethan watched as it bounced, a red mark appearing on your skin. ‘’I bet they’ll look pretty when they bounce as I pound into your tight little pussy.’’ 

You whimpered at the words, your core aching at the anticipation of him stretching you, filling you all the way up. 

‘’You want that?’’ he asked, rocking his lower body against you, making you feel his erection in his pants. ‘’You want my big cock to destroy your little pussy?’’ 

A wicked grin curled on your lips with a matching gleam in your eyes. ‘’Yes.’’ You wanted his naked body rubbing against yours. You wanted him inside you…with the costume on. ‘’Please fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.’’ 

Ethan’s cock swelled at your request and he dropped his knife, snapping out of character. It was difficult for him to stay in his act when all he wanted to do was to drop his pants and let you use him, but he agreed to play. 

He took a deep breath and returned into character. ‘’Let’s play a game first.’’ Ethan picked his knife back and spinned with agility. ‘’I���m gonna ask a trivia question and if you answer right, I’ll give you what you want. If not…I’m gonna grab a fistful of your hair and force my cock down your throat like you're my little bitch and have you choke on it.’’

In all honesty, you didn’t mind any of those situations. You’ll take his cock whichever way he gave it to you. 

You moaned softly and nodded. 

Under his shy and dorky appearance, Ethan had a mouth for dirty talking. He didn’t look like he’d be this way, but it’s always the quiet ones, right? He could have you a needy whimpering mess and nearly coming from him just using his words on you. 

‘’First question. What does the demon that possesses the little girl in The Exorcist tells the priest when he tries to exorcise her?’’

They do quite a bit of talking in the movie, but if Ethan picked this question, you figured there must be one particular line he wanted you to say. You raked your brain, then it hit you. Ethan always quotes that part when you watch it together and it cracks the both of you up. 

‘’Your mother sucks cocks in hell!’’

 Ethan slowly lifted his hand to run the tip of his knife across your cheek. ‘’Now, now, that's not a way to talk about my dead mother…’’ 

You quickly corrected yourself. ‘’No! I’m not saying— Reagan! That's what she tells the priest!’’ 

Ethan brought a finger to your lips, shutting you up. ‘’I know.’’ He wanted to kiss you, but resisted and dragged his knife down your chest, running it down your cami and tearing it in half, exposing the rest of your upper half to him. ‘’Do I have to do it with these too?’’ He tapped his knife over your panties. 

Feeling the cool metal through the lace, your breathing started to speed up and you pressed your thighs together, turned on by the act.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh  @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore  @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti  @bloodyhw  @depthsofdespairr  @bellysbeach @wilmalovegood @loupiotesworld  @wenvierismycomfort @t-candy  @s-al-em @darylscvmdumpster  @tommysaxes @adaydreamaway08

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

Austin Grossman’s ‘Fight Me’

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

In Fight Me, the novelist and game developer Austin Grossman uses aging ex-teen superheroes to weigh the legacy of Generation X, in a work that enrobes its savage critique with sweet melancholia, all under a coating of delicious snark:

http://www.austingrossman.com/fight-me

It is, in other words, a very Gen X kinda novel. Prodigy (AKA Alex Beekman) is a washed-up superhero. As a nerdy high-schooler, he was given super powers by a mysterious wizard (posing as a mediocre teacher), who gave him an amulet and a duty. Whenever Alex touches the amulet and speaks the word of power, reaclun (which he insists is not "nuclear" backwards) he transforms into Prodigy, a nigh-invulnerable, outrageously handsome living god who is impervious to bullets, runs a one-minute mile, and fights like a champ. Prodigy, he is told, has a destiny: to fight the ultimate evil when it emerges and save the world.

Now, Alex is 40, and it's been a decade since he retired both Prodigy and his Alex identity, moving into a kind of witness protection program the federal government set up for him. He poses as a mediocre university professor, living a lonely and unexceptional life.

But then, Alex is summoned back to the superhero lair he shared with his old squad, "The Newcomers," a long-vacant building that is one quarter Eero Saarinen, three quarters Mussolini. There, he is reunited with his estranged fellow ex-Newcomers, and sent on a new quest: to solve the riddle of the murder of the mysterious wizard who gave him his powers, so long ago.

The Newcomers – an amped-up ninja warrior, a supergenius whose future self keeps sending him encouragement and technical schematics backwards through time, and an exiled magical princess turned preppie supermodel – have spent more than a decade scattered to the winds. While some have fared better than Alex/Prodigy, none of them have lived up to their potential or realized the dreams that seemed so inevitable when they were world famous supers with an entourage of fellow powered teens who worshipped them as the planet's greatest heroes.

As they set out to solve the mystery, they are reunited and must take stock of who they are and how they got there (cue Talking Heads' "Once In a Lifetime"). With flashbacks, flashforwards, and often hilarious asides, Prodigy brings us up to speed on how supers fail, and what it's like to live as a failed super.

The publisher's strapline for this book is "The Avengers Meets the Breakfast Club," which is clever, but extremely wrong. The real comp for this book isn't "The Breakfast Club," it's "The Big Chill."

When I realized this, I got briefly mad, because I've only had two good movie high concept pitches in my life and one of them was "Gen X Big Chill." Rather than veterans of the Summer of 68 confronting the Reagan years, you could have veterans of the Battle of Seattle living through the Trump years. One would be on PeEP, one would be an insufferable Andrew Tate-quoting bitcoiner, one would be a redpilled reactionary with a genderqueer teen, one would be a squishy lib, one a firebreathing leftist, etc. The soundtrack would just be top 40 tracks from artists who have songs on "Schoolhouse Rock Rocks":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schoolhouse_Rock!_Rocks

Every generation has some way in which they seek to overthrow the status quo and build a new, allegedly better one, after all. "Big Chill"'s impact comes from its postmortem on a generation where it was easy to feel like you were riding destiny's rails to greatness thanks to the sheer size of the Boomer cohort and the postwar prosperity they lived through. A Gen X Big Chill would be a stocktaking of a generation that defined itself as a lost generation reared in the Boomers' shadows, armored against the looming corpo-climate apocalypse with the sword of irony and the shield of sincerity.

Which is basically what Grossman is doing here. What's more, doing this as a superhero story is a genius move – what could be a better metaphor for a teen's unrealistic certainty of destined greatness than a superhero? Superhero fantasies are irreducibly grandiose and unrealistic, but all the more beautiful and brave and compelling for it.

You know, like teens.

At 52, I'm a middle-aged Gen Xer. I've got two artificial hips and I just scheduled a double cataract surgery. My hairline is receding. I'm an alta kaker. But I wasn't always: I was a bright and promising kid, usually the youngest person in the room where we were planning big protests, ambitious digital art projects, or the future of science fiction. I had amazing friends: creative and funny and sweet, loyal and talented and just fun.

We're mostly doing okay (the ones that lived; fuck cancer and fuck heroin and fuck fentanyl). Some of us are doing pretty good. On a good day, I think I'm doing pretty good. I had a night in 2018 where I got to hang out, as a peer, with my favorite musician and my favorite novelist, both in the same evening. These were artists I'd all but worshipped as a teen. I remember looking at the two selfies I took than night and thinking, Man, if 15 year old me could see these, he'd say that it all worked out.

But you don't get to be 52 without having a long list of regrets and failures that your stupid brain is only too eager to show you a highlight reel from. No one gets to middle age without a haunting loss that is always trying to push its way to the fore in order to incinerate every triumph great and small and leave ashes behind.

That's why there's a "Big Chill" for every generation. Each one has its own specific character and meaning situated in history, but each one has to grapple with the double-edged sword of nostalgia. Not for nothing, John Hodgman (a bona fide Gen X icon) calls nostalgia "a toxic impulse."

Grossman really makes Fight Me work as a Gen X Big Chill. He's a great Gen X writer; his first novel, Soon I Will Be Invincible, was a knockout debut about superheroes and supervillains that had a very "The Boys" vibe, you know, that neat little move where you contend with the banal parts of a super's life and show how super powers don't make you a good person, or even a competent one.

His followup to Invincible came six years later. YOU is a coming-of-age story about the games industry with a second-person narrator (think "Zork"). Grossman is an accomplished game dev (Tomb Raider Legend, Deus X, Dishonored, etc), and he uses YOU to really plumb the depths of what games mean, what fun is, and how working on games isn't just work, it's often really shitty work, the opposite of fun:

https://memex.craphound.com/2013/04/16/austin-grossmans-you-brilliant-novel-plumbs-the-heroic-and-mystical-depths-of-gaming-and-simulation/

Grossman's last novel was Crooked, a very daffy alternate history in which Richard Nixon is a Cthulhoid sorcerer locked in a Lovecraftian battle of good and evil. This is a purely hilarious romp, wildly imaginative and deliciously certain to offend reactionary jerks:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/08/26/austin-grossmans-crooked-the-awful-cthulhoid-truth-about-richard-nixon/

All those chops are on display in Fight Me: a book that covers its brooding with wisecracks, that spits out ten great gags per page even as it drives a knife into your heart. It's a great novel.

Fight Me doesn't come out in the US and Canada until tomorrow (it's been out in the UK, Australia, NZ, etc for more than a month). Normally, I would hold off on reviewing this until the on-sale date, but this is my last day on the blog for two weeks – I'm leaving on a family vacation early tomorrow morning. I'll see you on July 14!

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/01/the-big-genx-chill/#im-super-thanks-for-asking

[jungle-angel]

Two Birds In A Nest (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob are just beginning to build your lives in Montana and hope that your family will grow with it

Warnings: Talks about starting a family, wanting a family, smut etc.

Your moans were tied together with Bob's even as you felt him gutter into you, an explosion of warmth blooming between your legs as your heavy breathing began to even out with each other's. You reached up, placing a hot hand against Bob's chest, feeling his fast heartbeat beneath your palm.

"Oh baby," he sighed happily, nuzzling your cheeks and your jaw. "My sweet (y/n), I can't get enough of you."

You giggled a little as you felt his baby smooth skin against yours, the both of you still sensitive to each other's kissing and caressing. Bob helped you up from your bed and into the bathroom, running a hot bath for the both of you to get you cleaned up. God it was heaven being in your brand new bathroom and not having to worry about who would be up at some ungodly hour of the morning to hog the shower. The steam carried with it the smell of Bob's Irish Spring body wash that he used on the both of you, gently washing every part of you that he could touch. Back into your shared bedroom you both went, crawling under the warm covers as the blizzard outside began to rage. Your house however, was so cozy and warm, the dogs sleeping soundly in their crates while the cats had taken to the laundry room in the finished basement.

You and Bob lay facing each other, chest to chest, tits pressing against each other and still warm from the bath. He looked like a dream with his soft cheeks, his limpid blue eyes that reminded you of the forget-me-nots that popped in your garden every spring. The lazy but loving smile on his face was almost the same as his dad's, the spitting image in all those family photos of Bob as a baby being held by Joe, his father.

Yet there was something that stirred and ached in your chest. You couldn't put your finger on what it was or why it was there, but it was.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Bob asked, seeing the worrisome look playing with your face.

"Do you ever feel like something's missing?" you asked in reply.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," you answered a little sadly. "I just.....I pass by one of the empty rooms and all I can see in there is you standing over a crib.....a little baby in your arms.....maybe you're sitting in the rocker singing and rocking him or her to sleep."

Bob could feel his eyes burning and a few loose tears beginning to form. Growing up the youngest in a big family, he spent endless days playing with all his nieces and nephews, sometimes watching them while his brothers and sisters either didn't have the time to do so or had to go on a SEAL team mission like his oldest sister, Reagan's husband. Picking them up from school, playing with them and taking care of them had made him feel as though there had been a hole somewhere that he could just hardly fill. Ever since the two of you had gotten married, he wanted so badly to have just that....a family of your own and a house that truly felt like home.

"Oh baby," he cooed, kissing your cheeks. "It'll happen, don't you worry."

You had hoped so. God you had hoped so. It was all you could think about, even when you were at the school trying to teach your fifth graders about ancient India and having to fill one side of the chalkboard with a drawing from The Ramayana. Now that you and Bob could finally have the time to try, you were excited, happy, nervous and scared all at once.

"Do you....do you wanna try?" you asked him a little meekly.

You felt him roll his body on top of yours, the heat intensifying a little bit from the heavy duvet you only used in the winter. "Hell yes," Bob murmured, his lips gently grazing against yours.

You felt him kiss you gently, just as he had done earlier that night, the wetness beginning to build again between your legs as his red hot, throbbing cock slipped inside you with ease. You sighed and moaned happily as his hips thrust gently in and out of you, slowly drawing your orgasm out of you. It was almost like the blizzard outside, dizzying and a wild flurry of moans, groaning and skin slapping against skin before everything calmed down and you and Bob were resting skin-to-skin against each other.

"You think this one will take?" you asked sleepily.

"I've got a feeling," Bob yawned.

Sure enough it did. After almost a week of you waking up sick, you and Bob were over the moon to find that it had taken, the tears filling his eyes when he hears the baby's heartbeat for the first time, more so when you learn that it's a little boy, your tiny little August Robert Floyd, who becomes the biggest blessing your family has ever received.

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Giving Thanks

steddie, omegaverse, family dinner, treat for best behavior 😈, mdni 🔞

Eddie loves his boyfriend. He loves him. He loves Steve so much. But he has to keep reminding himself of that fact while he’s at the Harrington’s for Thanksgiving.

They’ve been dating since the fall of Steve’s junior year, and Eddie has met Steve’s mom a handful of times, she’s nice if a bit oblivious. But his dad has been out of town on business every time Eddie’s come over for dinner, so he’s successfully sweated through his first iron-gripped handshake from Richard Harrington today. Now he just needs to survive being in a room full of Reagan Republicans without jumping on a table and calling them fascists.

Steve can clearly see that Eddie is about to lose it as his Uncle Charles drones on about the stock market and returns on his investments at one end of the room, and his Aunt Maureen praises Nancy Reagan’s crusade against drugs and music with explicit lyrics at the other. He squeezes Eddie’s hand and whispers in his ear, “Babe, let’s go get some air,” before making their excuses to his Grandpa Otis and dragging Eddie to the ensuite for the first floor guest room, locking the door behind them.

“Thank you for telling your mom that Wayne picked up a shift today so he didn’t have to be here, too,” Eddie mumbles, hiding his face against Steve’s neck.

“You’re doing so fucking good, Eddie. I’m sorry they’re all like this.” Steve slides his fingers into Eddie’s hair and scratches at his scalp.

“Your grandpa’s pretty cool, kinda racist, but…”

“I know. But we just need to make it through another couple hours, and then you get to unwrap your present.” He guides Eddie’s lips to his, kissing him softly. “But I think you deserve a little peek now,” Steve adds with a wink as he lets go and steps back.

Reaching down, Steve grips the hem of his sweater and raises it to his collarbones, showing off the delicate bralette he put on that morning. His dusky nipples show through the lace, and Eddie stares. He’s seen Steve naked plenty, but this lingerie set is new to him, and the bralette frames his tits so well. “So beautiful, Baby,” Eddie murmurs, stepping in to grip Steve’s side, his thumbs rubbing over his nipples as he bends down to place a kiss in the shallow valley between Steve’s breasts.

Steve chuckles and pets Eddie’s hair. “Do you think that’s enough to get you through dinner?” he asks.

“No,” Eddie whines, pinching one of Steve’s nipples.

“Puppy…” Steve warns around a moan.

Eddie brings a hand down to hold Steve’s waist, grinding their hips together. “Want you, Stevie. Please,” he gasps against Steve’s ear.

“We cannot have sex in this bathroom, my mom would lose her shit.”

“I can’t believe she thinks we haven’t had sex yet.”

“That’s the only reason she’s let you into the house. My mom’s a big believer that omegas shouldn’t put out until they’ve got a rock on their finger.”

“Yet she pays for your birth control.”

“I’ve got an irregular cycle!” Steve hisses, swatting at Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie grins, hips moving as he whispers, “We both know that’s not true, Baby. You just like the feeling of me coming inside you.”

“Eddie…” Steve whines, forcing his sweater back down. “Just a couple more hours, and we get to go have pie with Wayne. Then you get to see my matching panties.”

That’s finally enough to get Eddie to agree to return to the gathering. He’s good for the rest of the afternoon, except for when Uncle Gene goes off on a rant about unions and Eddie practically shouts, “MY UNCLE IS A UNION STEWARD!” It honestly makes it easier for Steve to say they’ll take dessert to go.

Wayne has the game on when the boys arrive with an entire pecan pie. They all put up their feet as they eat massive pieces of pie and Steve and Wayne talk about football; Eddie’s focus is entirely on sneaking his hands under Steve’s sweater to toy with his bra strap.

Just as the news starts, Wayne slaps his knees and says, “Well-p, I’ve got a card game to get to, you boys don’t get up to too much trouble while I’m gone.”

Steve smiles and wishes Wayne good luck. Eddie hides his face in Steve’s hair and mumbles, “Bye, Wayne!” He drags Steve to his bedroom as soon as the door is closed behind his Uncle.

Quirking an eyebrow, Steve pulls his sweater up over his head, once again revealing white lace. He doesn’t have time to do anything else as Eddie practically tackles him and fits his mouth over Steve’s nipple, mouthing wetly through the fabric. “Oh, fuck,” Steve moans, fingers tangling in Eddie’s curls, holding him in place.

Eddie bites once, pleased to see how much darker that nipple is now than its twin, pulling back and reaching for Steve’s belt. He undoes Steve’s fly, pushing his dress slacks down to pool at his ankles, fingers catching on the open-lacing at the back of his panties. “Oh, Stevie,” Eddie purrs, “Give us a twirl.”

Steve grins, completely aware of how much this is effecting his alpha, and slowly turns to show off his underthings from every angle.

After, Eddie tears off his own sweater and dark jeans, and pounces, pinning Steve to his bed. “Fuck, Baby,” he breathes, “I ever tell you you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me?”

“Only every damn day,” Steve answers, pulling Eddie down for a kiss. Eddie’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, too.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 14

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 14: blood and fire

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was sitting on a rock with a sketch pad in my lap. Reagan and her friends, mostly those a few years younger than her, were casually looking through the water for sea glass or pretty stones. The littles had really clung to her since she started helping Ms. Vivian with classes.

I spoke to Althea about the strain on my mind. She had instructed me to pick a mundane skill that didn't take much thought. She offered sketching and something inside me flipped a switch. Sometimes, when the floor was dirty enough in my cage, I would draw figures. When I ran out of room I would draw in the dust outside my cage.

I had asked Alastor for a simple sketch pad and pencil to which he complied without a sarcastic response. In fact, he didn't even ask why.

I made it a habit to spend time with Reagan in the early evening. I had my afternoon session with Lucifer or Alastor, depending on the day, followed by the still slightly uncomfortable afternoon snack with the latter, and then spent time on the shore with Reagan sketching.

I had fallen into the schedule with ease. I liked being busy and I liked being around different people. Husker was still my morning buddy and that gave me plenty of time to pepper him with questions about a certain pink and white Demon.

We stayed down on the shore until dinner. Like usual, I was quiet while Vivian and Althea did most of the talking. Since my incident, I found it quite difficult to socialize. I was always so tired. I never wanted to talk but I still craved other people's company.

After dinner, I said goodnight to Reagan and walked back up to the house. As soon as I stepped through the threshold, something felt off. I reached out my magic sense and knew there was something not right with Alastor. The house was dark and quiet, the brooding aura coming directly from his room.

I tried dulling my magic so he wouldn't sense me and crawled up the stairs. A red light emitted from underneath his door. The hallway felt heavy. I couldn't hear him moving around and I didn't dare try to reach out with my magic to feel for him. I kept myself small and quiet, carefully tiptoeing to my door and grabbing the cold handle.

Alastor's hand suddenly appeared next to mine. He towered over me from behind, leaving maybe an inch of space between us. The hair on the back of my neck rose and I wrapped myself in a protective shield of magic. His hand hadn't touched mine yet, surprisingly, but I could see it shaking against the metal.

"Alastor?" I called softly, my voice daring to shake.

"Your blood is like nothing I've tasted before," he breathed into my ear. It flicked in response and I tried to inch away unnoticeably. My heart was punching the inside of my chest. Surely he could hear it. "The cravings have returned, my dear. Painfully so." He drew a strained, shallow breath. It sounded painful. "Per our deal, will you let me satisfy this pain?"

He peeled his claws off the handle one by one, moving his hand to hover over mine and awaiting my response. He was shaking. Everything in me was screaming to run. He was dangerous. He was desperate. Even if I wanted to run, could I? I could only imagine what he currently looked like, all disproportionate and covered in green X's. His breath was hot on my ear and it was an effort to keep it from moving each time.

"S-sure."

He didn't hesitate. His hand clamped down on my own, pinning it to the handle, and sank his teeth in the spot between my neck and shoulder. I yelled and grabbed his hair with my other hand, slicing my skin on one of his antlers. He squeezed my wrist to force my fingers to let go and pulled it away. He withdrew his teeth slightly then sank them back in to get more blood. The pain flew down my arm and into the tips of my fingers.

This wasn't what I had expected. "That hurts," I gurgled.

I bent my knees and felt his teeth slip out of the injury. He audibly growled as his hand left the door handle to wrap around my torso, effectively trapping both my arms against my body. His other hand snaked up to my chain and held my head to the side for easier access.

He dragged his tongue across my skin, eliciting a whimper from me at the sensation. I squeezed my eyes shut, clenched my teeth, and tried pulling on his arm that was trapping me. He sank his teeth back in his bite mark, sending another wave of pain down my arm. I couldn't breathe.

I put my foot on the wall and pushed. It did nothing. I put up the other but his black tentacles came out to hold them down. My cries for him to stop landed on deaf ears, though I felt his magic abide the pain to a lesser degree. Tears were steadily streaming down my face at this point.

I started to feel extremely tired and lethargic. I tried digging my claws in his arms to stop him but even my fingers felt heavy. He was taking too much blood. It didn't feel like he was in any rush to stop, either. I tried to build up my energy and briefly saw an image of drawing a few shadowy souls through the gold and purple barrier. I sent a wave of shock or electricity from my body into his, making him go rigid from the pain. He slowly lifted his head.

"Stop," I panted, "please. Too much."

I heard him lick his lips. He moved his hand down my neck and healed the small wounds. I felt my energy, or maybe it was his energy, returning as he unwrapped everything from me. I spun fast to slap him with the back of my hand but he caught my wrist. His eyes narrowed.

"I see I lost myself," he admitted. "My apologies, dear."

I wrenched my hand from his grip and rubbed the sore spot. I quickly locked my bedroom door behind me and huddled in the bathroom corner. I pressed my claws into my head and kept it between my knees. My body was shaking but there was a deeper, strangely more pleasant, feeling buried deep in my mind, deep in my bones, that I refused to let into the light.

****

"Why did you want me to come, boss?" Husker asked. He and Alastor were standing in the shadows of a small alley.

"Two Overlords went missing," Alastor explained, "and my contact said Blackwater is behind it."

"Who's Blackwater?"

"We're going to find out." Alastor glanced at the bar as two people walked in. "Our favorite little Dragon mentioned the name to me some time ago."

"Speaking of which, what exactly happened between you two?" 

"What do you mean?" Alastor turned back to him.

"She said something happened with you that she doesn't want to talk about, and it upset her a lot. So, what was it?"

"That is for me to know," he answered, looking back at the bar entrance.

"It would help me help her to know what exactly you did."

"As she said, it's between me and her."

"She and I are very close."

"My answer is no, Husker." He casted a red glare over his shoulder.

"I'm not above risking my life for her if you forced yourself on h—"

His green chain appeared around his neck and cut off the end of his sentence. Alastor yanked the cord and held up the shorter man so their noses were inches apart. His eyes were dark with red dials, his antlers stretching above his head.

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing," he spat. "I'm disappointed you've let someone you've known for only three years sway your judgment of me." Husker had a claw on the clamp around his neck and the other at his side, desperately trying to keep his hands off his boss. "Accuse me of such a thing again and I will pry your soul out of your body and stretch it across my radio frequencies for all to hear."

Husker swallowed. "Got it."

The green light dimmed as Alastor straightened up and dissipated the chain. He fixed his coat flap and looked at the group entering the bar. He was about to move when he felt a presence on the edge of his mind. He knew it was me and willingly drew me past his shields, but still shallow enough that I couldn't see his memories. I watched the world from his eyes, thrilled at the discovery of a new skill.

That's my girl. He stiffened at his own thought. He was grateful I couldn't hear his thoughts at the level he was holding me at. He shook his head and mumbled a curse to himself. As he stepped out into the light, his Demon appearance melted away to reveal his Human one. Husker followed suite.

Alastor walked in first and Husker veered away from him a few tables in. They both ordered something from the bar but Husker found a small table in the corner to observe the room. Nothing revealed itself for half an hour. However, Alastor noticed a steady string of people entering the bar and immediately going into a side room. Two guards stood at the entrance checking a slip of paper each person or couple pulled out.

Alastor ordered a short drink and let his shadow loose. He stayed along the wall and melted with another person's shadow as they entered the room. A set of stairs stretched to his immediate right. At the base of the stairs was a small room crammed with round tables and dozens of chairs. A small, wooden stage with a red curtain stood at one end. Alastor's shadow found a perfect spot in the corner where his eyes wouldn't be noticed.

After another half hour or so, it began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have waited long enough." A man in a black suite and slick blond hair walked on stage with his arms outstretched. "Blackwater is proud to open his latest invention to his devote followers."

Well, I'm exactly where I need to be. Alastor thought to himself. 

Another man walked on stage carrying a small, metal backpack. He placed it on a round table and opened the latch, revealing a mix of wires and dark filled tubes.

"Not only is this more compact than the last version," the announcer went on, "but it provides the user another element to use." Murmurs erupted. "May I have a volunteer? Someone who wields only one element?"

No one raised a hand for moment. Then an older man, with white hair on his head and face, offered his hand. The announcer excitedly motioned him up to the stage and helped him take his coat off. He put the backpack on the old man and lifted an object to the back of his neck. The man made a pained noise as the thing hissed when it connected with his skin.

"As always, give your body a moment." The announcer helped the man into a chair the lackey pulled up. The man was visibly struggling, his body contorting inward. It lasted a minute, maybe two, before the old man was able to sit up straight. "Now, with powerful Demon's blood flowing through your veins, you can use any element you wish. Give it a try."

The old man remained in the chair but slowly lifted his hand. He casted wind around the room then a small jet of flame from his palm. He looked surprised, thrilled even, at the ability to wield more than what he was used to doing.

"No longer are we restricted to our own limits," the announcer went on. "Blackwater has made it possible to put us on the same level as every Demon. Keep this around and filled, and you'll be able to keep yourself and your family safe from any threat. How about another volunteer?"

The crowd erupted in applause and several people shouted to try. Alastor's shadow snuck back up the stairs, careful to avoid the eyes of the guards standing at the base and entrance. It slid back to its owner and melded into his Human shadow. He stood up, leaving a tip for the bartender, and casually walked out of the bar with his hands in his pockets. He went back to the alley and waited for Husker to join him a minute later.

"What was it?" Husker asked, morphing back into his Demon form as Alastor had done.

"He made a device that allows Humans to wield more magic," he answered. "Which means he used the Overlords to make it."

"He's using..." Husker fell silent, unsure of what to say next.

"We're going to wait," Alastor dictated, "and we're going to find out where his factory is."

"Why not just try to find Blackwater himself?"

"I will. But I'm going to take down his assets first."

The two of them waited for an hour before everyone dispersed from the meeting. Alastor's shadow hid easily in the dark shadows to watch the announcer leave the bar from the back door. Husker climbed onto the roofs while Alastor went to meet the man in the back street.

The light flickered over the man's head. He noticed and looked around at the empty street, seemingly aware that someone was watching him. He stuffed his phone and gloves in his pocket, fingers extended. His walk was slow, eyes scanning, as he started the walk back to his apartment.

He made it to the next street before Alastor appeared under a dim alley light. The announcer stopped dead in his tracks, blood running cold. Alastor's shadow grew along the wall and opened his wide, sharp mouth in a hungry laugh.

"What do you want?" the announcer demanded. Alastor knew the tone of feigned confidence.

"I won't have to move from where I stand if you tell me where Blackwater's factories are."

"I'm more afraid of him than you. He'll kill me if I tell you anything."

Alastor clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Fortunately for me, I am about to prove you wrong."

Alastor's shadow yanked the man's foot out from under him. He dragged him down the street and pinned him against the wall. Alastor was taller now and his stitches were desperately trying to keep his limbs attached to his body. His mouth grew wider and teeth sharper, eyes turning into his usual black and red dials.

He place a huge claw over the man to further hold him in place. He curled his other claw near his face and proceeded to pull the man's living soul out of his body. The man screamed but it came from his soul, not his physical mouth. Alastor knew what the man was 'seeing'. He was watching all the other trapped souls scream and reach for him, a fresh soul with new energy. He would merge with them, melding into the hive mind and losing his individuality.

"I'll tell!" the man wailed. Alastor let go of his soul and it slingshotted back into his body. He grabbed at his chest, eyes wide, and tried to calm down. Alastor stood there and waited for the panic attack to subside. The man couldn't stop shaking and he pulled his arms and legs tight to him like a scared child.

"Go on, then. Tell me," Alastor beamed. In his usual form, he bent at the hips so his face was level with the man's. He loved this.

"He-he...he uh...the-the coordinates. Truckers give receipt..." He fumbled with his coat pockets until he drew out a crumpled piece of paper. Alsator's shadow took it from his unsteady hand and unraveled it before dropping it in his claw. Like the man said, the paper was a receipt and at the bottom was the factory name and coordinates.

"Thank you, my good man," Alastor's voice turned chipper as he looked back to the man, "Do give Blackwater my regards. I'd love to meet the big man in charge."

He slipped into the shadows to join Husker on the rooftop. He grabbed his coworker's shoulder and focused, mind fixed on the image of the world. He found the coordinates, surprisingly not far from where they stood, and teleported them. He climbed through the shadows to enter the small factory and watched from a dark corner.

Belts of machinery were stretched across the whole factory. Workers stood on the side inspecting or crafting the pieces. There were at least fifty currently being worked on and there was a stack of crates in the one corner where the trucks picked them up. He continued to look around, mostly in search for Blackwater himself or the Overlords he had captured. Yet neither was here. He would have to find his other factories.

It took nothing for Alastor to start a fire. The workers attempted to put it out but they were all Humans with Slight magic. The fire grew too much for them to handle, forcing them to leave the factory to save their own lives. He melted the foundation and watched the whole thing topple inward on itself.

He appeared next to Husker who was hiding in the safety of the forest's shadows. "Satisfied?" Husker quirked an eyebrow up at him.

"I will once this man is dead," Alastor said. "I need to speak with the other Overlords. I need to know who let him get to this point unnoticed and unchecked."

"I'm sure that'll go well."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

I noticed that I was a bit more sadistic in the very first chapters of this series and needed a small taste of it again. I sure hope you all enjoyed the taste of 2 chapters :P

[anarchywoofwoof]

Hey, I'm just getting into the punk music genre, and I was wondering if you had any recommendations?

oh boy anon strap in because you activated my trap card on this one. for those who may not know, punk rock is one of my true loves. here are some of my favorite albums of all time

Misfits - Everything with Danzig, particularly Static Age, Walk Among Us and Earth AD/Wolfs Blood

NOFX - Everything before 2003, particularly Punk in Drublic, White Trash, Two Heebs & A Bean and Pump Up the Valuum

Propagandhi - Everything, particularly Today's Empires, Tomorrow's Ashes

The Clash - London Calling

Ramones - Rocket to Russia

Black Flag - Damaged

Rancid - Let's Go & ...And Out Come the Wolves

The Distillers - Coral Fang

Reagan Youth - Youth Anthems for the New Order

Angry Samoans - Back from Samoa

Anti-Flag - Die for the Government

Pennywise - Land of the Free?

AFI - Answer That & Stay Fashionable, Very Proud of Ya, All Hallows EP, Sing the Sorrow, pretty much everything before 2006.

Transplants - Self Titled

Suicidal Tendencies - Self Titled

Flogging Molly - Swagger, Drunken Lullabies

Dropkick Murphys - Sing Loud, Sing Proud

Catch22 / Streetlight Manifesto - Keasbey Nights (Ska Punk)

Less Than Jake - Hello Rockview, Anthem (Ska Punk)

Against Me! - Reinventing Axl Rose (Folk Punk)

this list is not comprehensive but covers the vast majority of my most frequently played albums. feel free to add any in the tags i may have missed

[gotankgo]

summer of 1984

[jonquilyst]

Day 6 - Challenge Day

It's time for challenge no. 3! Today, the teams will go up against one another in a climbing wall contest. One contestant from each team will climb at a time. Whoever stays on the wall the longest will earn a point for their team. At the end, the team with the most points wins invincibility!

First up: Poppy (SL) vs. Anika (KC)

Neither are athletically inclined, but these two held on for a long time! In the end, it was Anika who took the point after Poppy tired out.

Camden (SL) vs. Alexis (KC)

Alexis was tough contest to begin with; being a daredevil and always doing dangerous stunts; and in the end she took the cake when Camden slipped and fell off!

Aster (SL) vs. Dahlia (KC)

Things were going quite well for Aster at first; Dahlia was having trouble maintaining her balance, but in the end she took the point after Aster too slipped and fell off.

Reagan (SL) vs. Logan (KC)

I don't think rock climbing is Logan's forte, because he fell off nearly right away, leaving Reagan the point-winner.

Terrance (SL) vs. Cassie (KC)

The boys really didn't have a good time on the climbing wall today. Terrance became the loser after he too fell off!

Last but not least: Lilium (SL) vs. Kenzie (KC)

Kenzie took the point after Lilium couldn't hold on any longer!

With a score of 5 to 1, the Killer Cowplants have devastated the Screaming Llamas and earn well-deserved invincibility!

THE KILLER COWPLANTS WIN!

Screaming Llamas... Ouch. Today has not been a good day for you, and it still won't be when I see you all at the campfire tonight...

Today's Confessional: Terrance Vellard

"Sure we might have lost, but almost everybody didn't get the point. Not even that outdoorsy frog-loving chick or whoever won! Dunno how... She looks light as air. Maybe I will vote for her after all? Hehe!"

"My point though? This vote is gonna be prettyyy interesting. And I'm all for it."

@thebramblewood @comfyinn @mayzie-grobe @comfyinn @simsinfinitylt @softle0 @ashubii @wastelandwhisperer @seyvia @akitasimblr @micrathene-w @prismaticpotentia @aniraklova

[voidpants]

For your fluff request: how about sleepy mornings?

sorry for the wait nonny, i've been dead af since i got home from england 💀

Hobie wakes up much the same way he does everything else; all in, no hesitation, 0 to 100 in two seconds flat.

One moment, he is asleep, and in the next one, he blinks his eyes open, completely and perfectly awake.

Soft pre-dawn light filters in through sun-bleached curtains, casting the interior of The Riot in an easy, comfortable gloom, and she rocks gently against her moorings, buffeted by chilly autumn wind.

The air inside the cabin is cold, but his bed is warm, and he has not a single reason - or intention - to get up for at least another couple of hours.

It would be a pretty good morning, if not for the body lying beside him.

Instead, it's the best.

Peter is still asleep, lying on his side, with one hand under the pillow, and the other gently curled in the worn fabric of the shirt Hobie wore to bed.

His face is soft in sleep, and the pale grey of his skin almost seems to glow against the saturated colours of Hobie's home. Relaxed, his frown lines are smoothed out, and he almost properly looks his age for once.

Hobie runs his fingertips gently along Peter's jawline, thumb brushing across a scar stretching from the corner of his mouth down the curve of his chin in a barely-there caress.

He's never used this particular word to describe Peter out loud, because he's saving it for a rainy day, but he's just so bloody pretty, like a storybook prince or some shite like that.

It makes him want to kiss Peter awake, pepper his face with kisses until it drags him out of whatever dreams he's having.

Instead, he pokes Peter in the cheek.

Peter grimaces in his sleep, but doesn't wake.

Hobie pokes him again. And again. And again.

Somewhere around the eleventh poke, Peter's eyes flicker open, and he glares at Hobie with groggy indignation as he grabs his hand to avert another attempt.

"What time is it?" he grumbles, cold fingers twining with Hobie's in a sleepy-slow but easy movement, like it's instinctive instead of intentional, and it makes Hobie's heart flutter just a little bit.

"Not sure," Hobie says with a half-shrug, probably smiling like a besotted loon at Peter's sweetly grumpy face. "Four or something, probably."

Peter balks, looking for all the world like Hobie has betrayed him by saying that Ronald Reagan had had some points.

"Why are you waking me up at four?!" he whinges, a distinctly childish note creeping into his voice.

"Because there's this well fit bloke in my bed, and I wanted to kiss him, so I had to wake him up and ask if I could," Hobie responds, lips curling into a lop-sided smirk as he gives Peter's fingers a gentle squeeze.

A dark grey blush spreads across Peter's cheeks and down his neck and, suddenly bashful, he lowers his eyes to where their joined hands rest on the sheet between them.

"Oh," he murmurs, making that almost timidly awed face he always makes when Hobie makes sure he doesn't take Peter by surprise, like having an obvious boundary respected is some grand gesture instead of the bloody bare minimum.

It drives him mad sometimes, how Peter will afford Hobie and his boundaries so much consideration, and expect none at all in return.

But four in the morning with Peter sleep-soft and smiling shyly in his bed is not the time for those thoughts.

"So… can I?" he asks instead, leaning in until he can smell the ever present petrichor scent of Peter's skin even over the incense he'd burned in the evening.

"Of course, darling," Peter replies, a whisper across Hobie's lips, like he does every time.

"Aces," Hobie says, grinning for the split second it takes Peter to close the distance.

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

VOTE REPUBLICAN IN 2024? -- 40,000+ PALESTINIANS WERE STILL ALIVE DURING TRUMP'S REIGN.

NOTE: ^Add over half a million Ukrainian soldiers to the death toll as well, another war that the Democrats have been absolutely itching for since 2014, and which they finally "delivered on."

PIC INFO: Spotlight on humorous yet socio-politically charged punk art from the Reagan/hardcore era -- Welcome to 1984.

Anyway, it isn't even a debate anymore that the two political parties in the U.S. have completely @#!*$& flipped beyond all recognition, meaning the current Democratic Party has become the party of neverending bloodshed and endless war. Two wars are currently ongoing under Biden and his neverending death-cult-blood-sacrifice party.

Do the math, follow the money, and wake your ass up to the reality of what's really going on, chumps.

That is all.

More for RaR 1984

[queenshelby]

THE FUTURE (PART ONE)

See Introduction and Character Index HERE

Pairing: Emmett (A Quiet Place) x Original Female Character

Warning: Age Gap, Forced Procreation, Past Sexual Abuse, Angst

Words: 3,655

It was early Sunday morning and the air was still crisp, but not really cold. The weather had just turned after a rather cold winter and Caitlyn sat in her favourite spot overlooking the island. There was a large rock surrounded by grass from which she looked down at a few cottages below. Though early Spring, the tree under which she sat was still fully leaved, providing welcomed shade against the heat of the bright sun.  

It would be 90ᵒ or more again that day, she thought.  The long, hot summers continued to start earlier every year, even after the industrialisation had come to a natural end following the invasion.

The invasion, of course, changed everything. It forced humanity to turn back to basics, using only the essentials for what was required in order to survive. Agriculture had been simplified to meet the needs of the remaining population and, at least for now, it was only safe to live on the islands where guards took turns, ensuring the safety of each community.

Thus, it had been years since the greenhouse gas pollution had slowed and almost stopped.  But the CO² molecules could last up to 90 years in the atmosphere, meaning that the global warming would not be stopping any time soon and this was obvious to Caitlyn now that, every day, she watched the crops dying off slowly.

Caitlyn worked on the island, lending a hand with washing, growing food and assisting at the medical centre. She played an active part in the community but, even so, according some, her participation was not good enough.

Unlike many others, Caitlyn was not with anyone, and took no interest in having children of her own. Yet, she was raising to young boys, one of whom was deaf just like her.

“Is that not good enough?” she always wondered when she was approached by members of the council, enquiring as to whether she had chosen a partner yet so that she could finally partake in this so-called procreation programme which had been implemented by the new government of the islands communities.

“Why procreate if there aren’t enough resources for all of us to survive? Crops are drying and animals aren’t breeding quickly enough for us to consume. It will only become worse” she wrote down in the little book she carried before, once again, on this same Sunday morning, gazing fondly at the beachside huts nearby.

As usual, on a Sunday, the island was quiet. It was a rest day. The only day in the week where no one was doing anything and it was pretty much the only time one could observe the raw nature of the dozens of cabins, the bunkhouse, the dining hall and the workshop without the island’s inhabitants keeping busy.  Some houses were there already when the first people arrived on the island. These had been holiday homes of wealthy men and women who, by now, were probably dead. And then there were some newer and much simpler buildings too, some of which were made of roughhewn planks taken from the island’s fir and pine.

Caitlyn herself lived in one of those newly constructed and rather basic cabins, sleeping on a bed she had built herself in the corner of the living room. The two boys had their own room, separate to the living area, and there was no bathroom inside the cabin.

To shower and wash, she would either use the outdoor hose she had installed or walk to the community hall, which was being utilised by most inhabitants of the island the days. There were only a very few men and women who were given these proper houses and, those who lived in them, had to share them with several others.

Evelyn Abbott for example lived in one of those mansions. She lived there with her new partner Joe as well as her children and their respective partners. Evelyn’s daughter Reagan had become your best friend on the island and, albeit the fact that she was a fair bit younger than her, Caitlyn had much in common. She, too, was deaf and unlike with many others on the island, Caitlyn was able to communicate with her. Reagan had a partner who had learned sign language as well. His name was George and George was now teaching his and Reagan’s daughter to learn this silent kind of communication as well. Reagan and George also opened a school, wanting all children to learn how to communicate this was and this was something that had been well received by parents.

Then, of course, there was Evelyn herself and her son Marcus who Caitlyn was able to communicate with and there was also Emmett, who learned sign language from Reagan and Evelyn over the years.

Emmett was different to anyone else on the island. He was twenty years older than Caitlyn and the first person she had met from the island. It was him and some others who, when Caitlyn was captured by rebels on the mainland, saved her simply out of kindness. Yet, if one was to meet him, one would certainly not think of him as a kind man. To the contrary. One may in fact be fearful and afraid of him due to his stern demure.

Emmett often kept to himself, inhabiting a cabin near the beach which he shared with his dog Scooter. Scooter looked as rough as Emmett did at times and, during most weeks, Caitlyn would only see him once or twice when he ran out of food.

He utilised his own crops and shot rabbits or caught fish to eat. His life was simple and he certainly liked it that way.

Emmett featured a large scar on his right leg which was the result of an attack by one of the creatures. He had that looked at by the medical staff once in a while, but only after his friend Evelyn would force him to. Usually, it would be Caitlyn who was dressing the wound when required and this is pretty much the only time he would “talk” to her, at last until today which is when, again, he interfered in something she would rather not have experienced.

***

It was that very same Sunday morning which Caitlyn took for herself, relaxing and breathing in the beautiful scent of the sea. She watched some birds and then, eventually, she spotted Scooter running across the soft sand on the beach nearby.

There was no sight of Emmett though. He was probably fishing or hunting again which reminded her to be careful. Caitlyn was, of course, unable to hear the shots or any verbalised warnings when the hunters were around and figured that, so long as she kept a close eye on her surroundings, she would probably be fine.

Just recently, a group of three young men had joined the inhabitants on the island and they did have a habit of startling Caitlyn and Reagan. They too were hunters and it became a running joke for them to fire off their guns in the presence of these two women. Thus, much to Caitlyn’s dislike and anger, one of them did exactly the same thing again today while she was trying to relax and embrace her surroundings.

A shot was fired to her side and, in a moment of absolute, saturated terror, Caitlyn eventually turned around and saw one of the three men standing behind her, starring into the void.

“What are you doing, shooting this gun right next to me?” she indicated angrily but, of course, he did not understand.

“I thought it would be funny to see your reaction” the man then said and, luckily for her, Caitlyn was able to read his lips, at least to some extent.

In the end, however, she did not respond further to his comment and, instead, rolled her eyes at him. The way he utilised the words she read from his lips was insulting and Caitlyn attempted to ignore his presence the best she could.

Unfortunatly for her, however, the man approached her and sat down by Caitlyn’s side.

“You heard about this law, didn’t you? The procreation bullshit the council is trying to implement. Yeah?” the young man then said after making Caitlyn look at him, knowing that she could read his lips if he spoke slowly and, after comprehending what the man was saying, Caitlyn nodded.

“Good. Now, listen Sweetheart…Jordyn and Kai both want you because, clearly, you can’t talk back. You are mute and it will be easy living with you. So, I kind of want you too but I need you to tell me who you want. Kai, Jordyn or me? Who shall it be, hmm?” he then wanted to know, causing Caitlyn to shake her head effortlessly.

“Neither of you” she indicated angrily, both with her lips and hands, which was something the stranger was able to understand without a problem. Caitlyn felt insulated by the stranger’s remark and the stranger was not pleased with Caitlyn’s answer and smiled, sarcastically, before reaching for her tightly.

“Luckily, you won’t get a say. Council will decide for you. We all offered ourselves as potential suitors” he then said but Caitlyn was unable to hear it as he was holding on to her from behind, muffling her mouth with his hand.

But of course, it is not that she could have screamed anyway. She tried, but no sound came out past her lips as the man used his other arm to wrap it around Caitlyn’s body.

Caitlyn then tried biting the flesh of his fingers, kicking, lifting her arms to hit and claw and fight back, earning her Scooter’s attention. Being a dog, he had a good intuition and was barking loudly now.  

"Shit!" the man exclaimed a Caitlyn’s teeth were finally meeting his skin. He pulled his hand away for a brief moment and Caitlyn struggled to get loose. There was no chance that she could out-muscle him, but she threw him off balance nonetheless and they both fell to the floor.

After she fell to the floor, Caitlyn was on her hands and knees, trying to move away from the man when he grabbed her foot. She turned around and kicked at him and he shouts again.

“Fucking whore. You will learn to like this” he spat as he was climbing on top of her, pinning her legs down with his body while he fought to control her arms, to hold her still like that.

Caitlyn’s wrists had now been pinned down by one of the man’s arms while his other hand was searching along her body, groping her. Her shirt was bunched up around her ribs during the struggle and he easily pulled it above her breasts, leaving her exposed as he moved down her stomach, tugging at the drawstring of her shorts and shoving his hand into them and between her legs.

Caitlyn used all of the strength she had left in one single burst as he tried to thrust his fingers into her, pushing him off, turning around to pull herself across the muddy floor again. She was crawling towards the forest until, all so suddenly, there was another gun shot.

Caitlyn, of course, did not hear the shot but she felt the earth vibrating beneath her body and, when she turned around, she saw that her attacker was bleeding heavily. He was screaming in agony. Caitlyn could see it on his face. The terror and pain.

She sighed with relief and looked into the opposite direction only to see Emmett and Scooter now standing in front of her. Emmett was holding out his hand after he tugged away his rifle.

“Can you stand up?” he reciprocated and Caitlyn nodded in response before crawling onto her knees.

Emmett then helped her into a standing position and she hugged him tightly, making him feel rather uncomfortable.

Then, immediately after realising that Emmett was out of his comfort zone, Caitlyn withdrew as she already felt Emmett’s chest heaving. He sighed and clearly did not enjoy the physical contact.

“Are you okay?” Emmett then indicated with his hands. “Do you need to see the nurse?” he wanted to know.

“I am fine. Thank you” you indicated to him in turn.

“I will take you to your house” Emmett then said and Caitlyn turned around again to glance at her attacker.

“What about him?” she wanted to know.

“He can crawl down the hill and face council or he can take his chances at sea. It is up to him” Emmett said, knowing that council would just log him up or expel him from the island anyway for what he tried to do to Caitlyn.

A few days later…

A few days had passed and your attacker had, indeed, made a run for the sea, worrying about the fact that council would execute him as this had become common practice on other islands.

Emmett and Caitlyn, of course, had reported the incident to the authorities and it was Evelyn who counselled Caitlyn over the past few days, requiring her to open up about what happened.

Evelyn cared for Caitlyn simply due to the fact that she wasn’t so indifferent to her daughter, Regan. Not only was Caitlyn unable to hear or speak, but she was also stubborn, kind and strong headed.

Just like Emmett, Caitlyn liked to mind her own business and, with that being the case, Evelyn had a hard time to address the elephant in the room. Time was running out for her and, since Council had been very demanding when it came to following the new laws and rules, it became rather difficult for Evelyn to now, following the incident, convince Caitlyn to take on a potential suitor.

“Why do men get a choice in this, but women don’t?” Caitlyn asked Evelyn as Evelyn had told her again that both, Kai and Jordyn, have offered themselves to her.

“I did not make this law, Caitlyn. But I can see how it is beneficial” Evelyn explained but Caitlyn simply shook her head and requested to be left alone.

“Caitlyn, you need to find someone or we must choose for you” Evelyn told her sternly and with great concern, knowing very well how vulnerable Caitlyn was.

“I was abused on the mainland. For days, I was beaten and…” Caitlyn began to say before tears started to tumble down her face. She was unable to say the words but Evelyn already knew. She knew what happened to Caitlyn and took her into her arms. “I do not want to be alive if I must live with a man who does something like this to me” Caitlyn then explained and this saddened Evelyn. She was worried about Caitlyn doing the unspeakable but, yet, she had to follow the laws. As a member of council, she had to enforce them and there was no way around it.

“You do not know Kai and Jordyn. They are not nice men. Despite, I cannot even communicate with them” Caitlyn then pointed out while Evelyn continued to embrace her.

“Someone else then, perhaps?” she whispered, seeing whether Caitlyn was prepared to be with someone other than Kai or Jordyn, but Caitlyn shook her head.

“Caitlyn! Please! I do not have a choice. I must pair you with someone” Evelyn begged but Caitlyn shook her head again.

“No. You don’t. Take care of the boys for me and I will leave the island. It is simple. I will just leave” Caitlyn said, seeking an out from this horrible arrangement but Evelyn knew that she did not stand a chance. She knew that she would die on the mainland.

***

Later that day, at the council meeting, the first topic on the agenda was the procreation law and non-compliance thereof.  Evelyn was required to report on the progress of finding you and another single woman a potential suitor and when she made suggestions to the other council members, they were a little confused.

“For Laura, I propose Kai as a potential suitor. They have already been intimate so this shouldn’t be an issue” Evelyn pointed out and everyone voted in favour.

“So Jordyn shall be assigned to Caitlyn then you think?” one of the other members asked but, to this question, Evelyn shook her head.

“No, I propose Emmett as a potential partner for Caitlyn” she then said, causing Regan’s chin to drop. Regan too was on the council and so was a woman by the name of Lorraine who appeared to be opposed to this idea.

“Emmett?” Lorraine asked before breaking out in a chuckle. “Evelyn, are you okay? Are you running a fever or something?” she then joked, seeing that Emmett did not even engage in community issues or the like. He was an outsider and opposed this law.

“Emmett is at least twenty years older than Caitlyn. It is improper. Despite, did he even agree to this?” Lorraine thus asked and Evelyn shook her head.

“No, not yet, but provided that he will, I consider him to be more suitable than Jordyn” Evelyn explained but Lorraine simply shook her head.

“How so?” she asked, seeking an explanation for Evelyn’s reasoning.

“Well, for starters, he knowns sign language and Caitlyn if deaf. He also had children before. He was a father of two sons. He can look after Caitlyn and the boys and he can communicate with Karl, the eldest” Evelyn explained and, just after she did, the majority of council voted in favour of the proposed pairing. Except for Lorraine. Lorraine was still against the union.

“But the purpose of this exercise is not to find the boys a father. The purpose is to get Caitlyn to have children and, like I said, Emmett is much older than her” Lorraine thus pointed out.

“He is only 45 and probably still capable of fathering a child though, Lorraine” another council member said, not knowing that Evelyn chose Emmett for totally different reasons. Evelyn knew that Emmett would not hurt her and simply assumed that intimacy would never ensue.

“Yes, but the new law only applies to men and women under the age of 35” Lorraine argued nonetheless, causing Evelyn and the other council member to intervene.

“That is true, but if Emmett agrees, then this point becomes a non-issue” the other council member said, following which it was agreed that Evelyn would talk Emmett about and this is exactly what she did later that night when, under false pretences, she invited him to her house for dinner.

***

“So let me get this straight Evelyn…” Emmett began to say sternly while looking into Evelyn’s eyes after she had brought up the proposal. He felt betrayed and somewhat angered by her request. “You want me to move in to Caitlyn’s house and pretend to be a father to those kids who are living with her and then you want me to sleep with her so that she can fulfill her womanly duty to this new regime? Is that it?” he then asked sarcastically before finishing the rest of his moonshine and standing up abruptly. His arms were crossed and he appeared rather upset by what Evelyn had suggested to him and, by this point, Evelyn too was lost for words.

“So to tell me, am I going to force myself on her? Or do I simply assume that she has consented to this madness?” he then asked while Evelyn tried to think of something else to say while Emmett rambled on, cursing in anger.

“Fuck! This kind of nonsense is exactly why I do not socialise with anyone on this fucking island…this fucking bullshit…” Emmett spat before Evelyn tried to calm him down.

“This is not what I meant Emmett, and you know that…” she eventually stammered but Emmett interrupted her again.  

“What I know is that, six fucking years ago, women had a choice about what they wanted to do with their bodies and I remember you and Nora standing up about these choices when the state brought in the abortion bill. Do you remember that?” Emmett asked her abruptly, seeing that this so called “Law of Procreation” was troublesome and offensive.

“Well Emmett, I hate to break it to you, but a lot has changed since then. Most of us are now dead and, in order for the human race to survive, we will all need to make sacrifices. This includes Caitlyn. She will need to make a sacrifice as well” Evelyn exclaimed but Emmett was getting rather angry.

“You know what she has been through, right?” he asked. “You know what the rebels did to her and now you expect me to do the same?” he asked but Evelyn shook her head.

“No, I do not expect you to do the same Emmett. I know what Caitlyn has been through and I know why she has distanced herself from most men on the island and this is why I spoke to her. I gave her a choice. She wants to leave the island but I think that, if she is paired with a man who she can trust, she may be willing to stay. You can pretend to be with her. I know you would never force yourself on her, but other men might. So please Emmett. I am begging you. Despite, you can communicate with her and Karl. No one else can” Evelyn pleaded but Emmett continued to shake his head in anger.

“I will think about it” was all he said next but Evelyn urged him to make a choice. She needed to know before the next council meeting.

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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[borderepisteme]

“But failure was big and alluring like nothing else then, failure was boundless and unexplored and vacant-seeming like oceans and space and pages on which we all tried not to write. There was something so evocative in all the emptiness of knowing you would be as erudite as Fugazi but never even that impure, the secret genius of yourself so utter and utterly drowned in the soft weedy hours off in dirty apartments in the middle of nowhere in which everyone agreed that we would rather die than try, and some of us did. Every diet coke can was stuffed with the butts of cigarettes. Failure was also the sounds of the amps turned too loud at the house parties, all that pleasant muffled ear-ringing afterward of knowing you'd fucked yourself up for life. Our lives were supposed to be made of permanent squander: that was the only redeemable way to be a no-thank-you child of post-Reagan empire. If we had to be a cliche, let it be dissolute. And sometimes I've asked myself in poems "Must we rock til we die?" and the answer has always been an unfailed failing yes. Once you have gone all in on all that beautiful loser there is never not rocking, even if you promise yourself that every song of your youth was a lie.

And most writers who have any success are actually just winners no matter how they self-present, winners with winning habits in winning places born from winning people educated as winners looking like winners with their winning new yorker profiles about winningly winning, too, even as they win at presenting as losing, but not me, I have lived the shit bottom of the barrel life for more years than I have ever lived any other kind, most of it my own fault, crying in parking lots outside the call centers crying in break rooms crying in cubicles and restaurant kitchens crying without jobs and also crying with them, crying for love and also against it and also because of it and without it, tears always falling down my bloated unhappy face as I insisted that I was prouder than my circumstances but never figured out how.”

Anne Boyer

[dizzybee03]

Making Love on a Monday

Beau Simpson x OC Ryan Reagan story

Warnings- Smut

Otis Redding sang softly through the speaker and the soft glow of string lights lit the backyard as Beau Simpson and his best friend Solomon Bates carried the last of the dirty dishes into the kitchen and sat them on the counter. “I’m sorry we have to rush off but we told the sitter we wouldn’t be late since it’s a Monday night and there is school tomorrow” Solomon’s wife Muriel stated leaning in to give Beau a hug. “No, it’s alright I completely understand. I'm just glad we could finally find a time to get together. I know my schedule isn’t the easiest to work around" said Beau’s girlfriend Ryan.

Ryan Reagan had been a police officer for long enough that she was used to the craziness of having alternating days off but it made it hard to socialize with people that worked normal 9-5 jobs who had regular weekends off. She and Beau had been trying for several weeks to find a day that would work with Solomon and Muriel’s busy lives to have dinner.

“Ryan thank you for a delicious meal and for taking such good care of this one” Solomon said, gesturing to Beau. “It’s nice to see him so happy” he continued as he and Muriel were walking out the front door towards their car.

“You’re welcome for both” Ryan said, wrapping an arm around Beau’s waist. “He’s an easy one to take care of” she said, laying her head against his chest.

“See you tomorrow Sol” Beau said watching as the couple closed their car doors and drove away. “That was fun, I’m glad we could do that. I like spending time with some of my favorite people.” He said as he closed the front door. “Now why don’t you pour yourself some more wine and go sit out back while I clean up the kitchen.”

“Beau you don’t have to do that, I’ll get it later.”

“Nope, not gonna argue about it. Go” he said pointing towards the backyard.

“Yes sir Admiral” she said, giving Beau a mock salute while she topped off her wine glass.

“I’ll join you when I’m done” he says as he begins to fill the dishwasher.  Once the last of the dirty dishes have been taken care of and the dishwasher started, Beau heads outside and finds Ryan sitting on the porch swing."Penny for your thoughts" he says sitting down next to her. Ryan turns to look at him smiling as she says "I'm just thinking about how happy I am and how there is really only one thing that would make me happier right now.  Beau reaches to move a piece of hair from Ryan’s forehead as he says "oh really, what would that be?"  She shifts in her seat and gazes into his eyes before leaning over kissing him on the lips saying "stay with me tonight."

Beau responds by kissing her passionately and pulling her onto his lap.  Ryan's hands are running through Beau's hair and she rocks her hips forward, she can feel how hard he is. Wrapping his arms tighter around Ryans waist, Beau stands and carries Ryan inside the house. He puts her down just inside the doorway of her bedroom and backs up slightly. Beau is silently giving her the opportunity to change her mind. As if confirming Beau’s question Ryan slowly lifts the hem of her t-shirt over her head and throws it on the floor. She reaches a hand out to Beau and he takes it as he crosses the threshold of her bedroom pulling Ryan close. Beau starts kissing down Ryan's neck, taking the opportunity to nibble lightly on her collarbone.

Ryan pulls Beau’s shirt tail out of the waistband of his dark washed jeans pushing it up his broad torso and over his head. She NEEDS to get it off him and feel his bare chest against hers. They kiss again, Beau nips at Ryans bottom lip and then licks at it before entering her mouth- their tongues dancing. When they finally break apart for air Ryan backs towards her bed, never breaking eye contact with Beau- slowly she goes to unhook her bra and tosses it at Beau before sliding her shorts and panties down her legs.

He catches the bra easily and his eyes darken as he takes in Ryan standing before him completely naked. “I’ve always known you were the most beautiful woman in the world but this confirms it. The way my body reacts to you should be illegal darlin '. I wanna take my time with you, taste every inch of you but if I don’t get inside of you soon I think I just might die.” Beau says as he unhooks his belt and jeans while moving towards Ryan.

“Well we wouldn’t want that to happen now would we” she says, slipping her hand into his boxer, grabbing his hardened length and pumping once, then twice before sliding his pants down his legs. Both completely bare, Beau picks Ryan up and places her on her bed and climbs on top of her. He’s kissing down her neck, slowly inching his way towards her breasts where his hands have been kneading the soft globes. Ryan moans as his mouth finds one of her nipples letting his tongue roll around the bud.

Ryan's hips rock up and Beau’s hard dick twitches against her stomach at the movement. “Beau I need you. PLEASE”

“Alright, let me get a condom.”

“Top drawer of my night stand, I’m like the Boy Scouts- always prepared”

“Well I’m about to show you how much I appreciate you being prepared.” He says while opening the foil packet and rolling the condom down his throbbing dick. Once covered he rubs the tip at her entrance before sliding in. “Honey I think I may have actually died and gone to heaven. You feel so good, so tight.” He said thrusting his hips harder and harder after giving Ryan time to adjust to him being inside of her. Ryan’s nails scratch his back as he continues to fuck her. 

In a surprising move Ryan rolls Beau over onto his back so that she is on top riding him. Beau’s hands grip her hips tighter the faster she rocks, their moans getting louder. “Honey I’m getting close, I need you to come first.” He said moving his hands from her hips to her tits, squeezing them as he bucks his hips to meet Ryan’s movement. Ryan’s pace gets frenzied as she nears her release, placing her hands over Beau’s and moaning loudly. Ryan can feel the wave of pleasure washing over her as she leans over to kiss Beau.  He flips Ryan over so he is once again on top and thrusts again and again and again until he reaches his own high.

“That was definitely worth the wait” Beau said, kissing Ryan's shoulder as he rolls to his side. She doesn't respond, but instead turns her head away from Beau's gaze.  "You're not having second thoughts are you?" Beau asks with a worried expression on his face.

“No of course not, I just….I…I’ve…ugh” she groans in frustration and rubbing her hand over her face. 

“Hey hey hey…..honey you’re making me nervous. I’m gonna need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Ryan sits up against the headboard pulling the sheet up over her naked body and says “I’ve just never had someone love me so completely for who I am, flaws and all. The few relationships I’ve had I’ve never felt good enough- like I wasn’t skinny enough or pretty enough and you just have this way of making me feel like no one else matters.”

“That’s because you’re it for me Ryan. I’m sorry those other guys made you feel that way because you're so gorgeous and the fact that you don’t realize how gorgeous you are only adds to it. I am so crazy in love with you and if I’m lucky I’ll get to spend the rest of my life showing you just how special you are.”

"I'm not sure what I did to deserve you Beau, I really don't.  You're it for me too, I can't see myself with anyone else. You just make loving you so easy" Ryan said, scooting closer to Beau and snuggling into his chest.  "It took me too long to find you and I'm afraid I'll wake up one morning and find out this has all been a dream."

"Darlin, go to sleep-I promise I'm not going anywhere...there is literally no place I'd rather be than with you." 

__________________________________________________

Thank you @bullet-prooflove for ALL of your help!!