#Spray de camera

[thoughtfulfiction]

Social Media QB

Author’s note: reposting my old work on this side blog! Let me know if you’d like to read a specific one. Thank you for reading!

The reputation of the Chargers social media team was unmatched. They are known for being funny and up to date on all memes and pop culture references while also showcasing players’ personalities. That alone made you apply and this past year on the job had really been a once in a lifetime experience. Working with Megan and the crew was a daily adventure and you were becoming more and more comfortable calling the guys your friends. It even got to a point where you didn’t even call them by their names anymore.

Quentin was usually just “Q.” JK was always “J’Kaylin”, Derwin was “3” and your favorite nickname was definitely calling Justin “Sunshine.” At first it was a Remember the Titans reference but it became a lifestyle. Everything and everyone revolves around the sun and that’s exactly what it felt like when you were at work. All of the players were important and special but you could just feel the energy in the room shift when Justin was there. It was palpable, it almost took your breath away sometimes.

Off camera he was goofy, funny and had this uncanny ability to make the world stand still for a bit, even just for a few fleeting moments where it felt like you two were the only ones in the room. But then reality would hit and you were reminded that you work for the team and he’d never see you in that way, he was just nice to everyone he encountered. But on camera? It was all fun and games. There was a running joke, mostly based on his real feelings, that Justin hated cameras. He couldn’t stand being the center of attention or having people perceive him so he avoided the social media team altogether when phones were pointed in his direction. 

But sometimes, a rarity, you were able to get him on camera, even if it was just for a split second. The two of you reviewed the questions he was going to be asked before their Hot Ones appearance and there was ALWAYS a discussion, more like subtle begging if you all were going to have him participate in any content.

“We need Justin for this new segment we’re doing, so you’re gonna have to talk to him.” Megan sighs, grabbing her Stanley cup that was sitting on the counter. She’d just finished editing a video where she and her assistant put fart spray on the tiny mic and could still smell the rancid scent until she grabbed some Lysol spray to de-funk the place.

You were going through photos taken during practice earlier that morning and deciding which ones to post and without looking up you asked her, “why do I have to do it?”

Lorren and Allie giggle in the corner, shaking their heads. “You cannot be serious right now y/n,” Lorren gives you a pointed look.

“What?”

“We all know you and Justin have a thing for each other. Even if you won’t admit to us…or yourself. It’s pretty obvious.”

You finally raise your head up from your laptop, staring at them while also wracking your brain trying to figure out when your innocent crush had become so painfully obvious. If the girls knew, then Justin had probably somehow caught on and the thought of that made you want to dig a hole right outside on the practice field and never come out. “Is—am I that easy to read?”

“No one blames you,” Megan runs a loving hand on your shoulder. “And I’m sure you’ve been trying so hard to hide your feelings that you haven’t noticed that he’s doing an even worse job of hiding his massive crush on you.”

The look on your face sends the room into a fit of laughter. “We’re being serious. The way he looks at you and acts around you. Anyone can see he’s into you friend.”

You weren’t convinced, “I need an example.”

“Okay fine,” Lorren stands up to prepare a demonstration. “He wasn’t ready to put the mics on when he was mic’d up until you walked over and helped him get the mic in the perfect spot in his pads. And then he wore the friendship bracelet for six weeks because you handed it to him.”

Allie pipes up to put in her two cents. “And let’s not forget when he had you driving him around the golf tournament and kicked Zion to the curb. There’s no way all of those are just a coincidence.”

“Fine. I’ll go ask him if he’ll shoot the video for us but I’m not going to lose my job because of a meaningless crush on the starting quarterback.”

You waited around for the guys to leave treatment after practice and caught up with him on his way out. “Hey Sunshine, quick question for you.”

His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and he gives you a small tight-lipped smile. “What’s up?”

“I need you to do me a huge favor and be in this tik tok. It’s a short game and it’ll only take like 15 minutes.”

His deadpan face and disappointed dad sigh has you practically begging, saying “please” in your finest sing-song tone.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” You knew he’d crack, he always did. “On one condition. You also have to participate.”

You hold your hand out and he engulfs it with his much larger one. “You’ve got yourself a deal Herbert.”

“Okay the rules of the game are simple,” Megan begins from behind her phone screen before hitting record, “we’re going to give you these Canadian snacks and you’ll rate them on a scale from 1 to 10. One being it’s awful I’ll never touch that again and 10 being a solid snack that you’d eat everyday if given the opportunity.”

You and Justin nod, diving in on everything from the ketchup chips to the toffee. The video didn’t take long as promised and the quarterback went about the rest of his day with no further distractions.

In your office a few days later on the team’s off day, you were contemplating your life. Maybe you should take a step back from him so people don't get the wrong idea. Sure, your coworkers were convinced the crush was mutual but what if he was just being nice? He was always so focused on football and making the most out of every opportunity. Why in the world would he waste time flirting with a social media manager? It just made no sense. Instead of continuing to run a million imaginary scenarios in your mind you packed up your stuff and tried heading out to the parking lot. Even after all this time you still struggled to maneuver all the twists and turns of the building and somehow found yourself walking past the quarterback room. You intended to just keep walking but he was in there alone and called out your name when he saw you.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think anyone would be in the building today.” His bright eyes staring down at you made your heart feel like it was beating out of your chest. You desperately needed to get it together.

“I came in to finish up a few things but I’m heading out now. What are you doing? I think you’ve watched enough film to last you a couple lifetimes.” That gets a light chuckle out of him and he shakes his head, the two of you knowing that his quest for perfection would never allow him to believe he’s watched enough film. “Thank you for shooting that video the other day. The fans are gonna love it, they’re always begging us to get you on camera.”

“No problem, anything for you.” He clears his throat after whispering the last part, desperately hoping that you didn’t hear it. Even though you definitely did. You should go home for the day and leave him alone in the office so he can get back to work. You should stop staring at his lips that look so soft and just begging to be kissed. He should turn around and get back to the playbook and the computer but here he is, standing still, right in front of you.

You’re just there, waiting for someone to rip the carpet out from under you, to fall on your face, for someone to tell you that this isn’t actually happening. The space between your bodies diminishes significantly, so much so that you can smell the Dr. Squatch Birchwood Breeze radiating off of him. It’s intoxicating and you swallow the fear in your gut and ignore all of the common sense thoughts plaguing your mind, allowing you to feel.

The kiss is tentative at first, he pulls back slightly, whispering if it’s okay to keep going as you feel his breath against your lips. You don’t respond but instead pull him in closer, hearing a satisfied husky moan from him as he allows your tongue access to his. His right palm rests against your cheek until he’s tilting your head up ever so slightly to deepen the embrace and he pulls you in even closer, holding on for dear life while closing and locking the door behind you. It was so much more than he imagined, these feelings that he’d been pushing aside were being confronted and magnified by the second. This innocent crush that you had on him were genuine, real feelings that created a deep ache in your bones, actively being soothed with his hands all over you as the two of you made out like helpless teenagers.

You didn’t think you’d have the strength to tear yourself away from him…until his phone rings. He ignores it the first time but it’s all you can think about by the fifth ring.

“Answer it,” you whisper breathlessly and you can feel him hesitating to pry himself away from you. The heat that was radiating off of his body that you felt being so close to him sends shivers down your spine at the sudden distance. A thousand unspoken apologies are painted on his face as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He keeps the call short and sweet but the look of devastation is clear when he hangs up. “You have to go don’t you?”

He nods. “I’m so sorry. We can—we need to talk about this I know. And I promise we will. I just—I need to take care of this.” He doesn’t want to leave, not like this. Even if he knows you understand. Justin presses a kiss to the side of your head and whispers another “I’m sorry” leaving you in the room to think about what just happened.

You walk around the empty parking lot until you reach your car, letting out a deep sigh at the thought of what the conversation with him is going to look like after this. You need to be mentally prepared for good news, bad news and everything in between.

He is the sun after all. And sometimes when you stand too close, you might get burned. And maybe, just maybe, you’d avoid the burn altogether and bask in the warmth as long as you can.

[eepwtf]

oh my GLOB i just saw this pic in my camera roll(don’t ask) and my brain immediately went to frat!kai parker

WARNINGS; explicit sexual content: contains detailed and graphic descriptions of sexual acts, including edging and overstimulation. jerking each other off(are you even frat bros if you don’t?) exhibitionism & voyeurism: includes references to the potential of being watched or caught during sexual acts. humiliation kink, kai being an asshole, slight power imbalance, ( im a sucker for asshole x dumb puppy dog duo ) accidental homoerotic frat energy: “it’s not gay, bro, it’s just mutual appreciation...of each other’s cocks.”

also, can i just say this started as an innocent brainstorming session about kai parker ! frat bro headcanons, but things got wildly out of hand, and now we’re here. sigh, my brain goes into a rabbit hole that i cannot escape when it comes to him.

wc; 5.5k

kai parker was the kind of guy who made you hate the sound of your own name. not because he said it wrong, no—that’d be too simple. he dragged it out, teased it, wrapped it in just enough contempt to make your chest tighten and your skin crawl. (the bastard knew exactly what he was doing, too, with that smug little smirk of his.) perched on the back of the delta psi beta couch—shoes still on, because of course he didn’t give a shit—he swirled the last inch of beer in his red Solo cup like it was top-shelf whiskey. he had that infuriating cocked-eyebrow thing going on, one leg stretched out like he owned the damn place. (technically, he kind of did—if being the unofficial asshole-in-residence counted for anything.)

the house reeked of stale beer, sweat, axe body spray, and regret. (it was a delta psi beta signature blend—eau de regret.) the floors were a graveyard of crushed cans and abandoned cups, the kind that leaked sticky trails when you tried to clean them up—assuming anyone ever did. over in the corner, some poor pledge was on his knees, scrubbing furiously at a blackish-green stain on the carpet. (it shimmered faintly in the light, like an oil slick, and everyone silently agreed that the less you knew, the better.)

and then there was you. (golden boy. president. the kind of guy who people just…liked.) you didn’t even have to try. your smile was easy, charming—sugar-sweet in a way that made kai’s teeth ache. you were sprawled next to kai, stupid grin plastered across that stupidly pretty face of yours, laughing at some dumb joke one of the other guys had made. your hair was a little messy (like it always was by the middle of a party), your cheeks pink from too many beers, and kai fucking hated it. not you, not really—he wasn’t sure he was even capable of hating you. (hating you would’ve been easier. cleaner.) but he didn’t exactly like you either, and that made him feel some kind of way.

maybe it was the way people clung to your every sugary, half-baked word. (kai talked, and people flinched. you talked, and they fucking laughed.) maybe it was how you could smile at someone and instantly get whatever you fucking wanted. (beer. a blowjob. a goddamn kidney, probably.) hated how your laugh was so genuine it made him feel like a fraud just sitting next to you. (fuck, he hated that he wasn’t immune to it. that sometimes he caught himself watching you and wondering.) or maybe it was the way you always squirmed when he turned his attention on you, when he got close enough to see that flicker of panic in your puppy-dog eyes.

“you good, president puppy?” he drawled, dragging his gaze over to you, slow enough to be a threat. (or a promise—same difference really.) his voice was low and syrupy, just the tiniest bit condescending, like he was addressing a particularly dumb pet. you blinked at him, smile wavering for half a second before you covered it up with a laugh.

“yeah, i’m good, parker,” you said, voice light and easy, even though kai could see the faint pink creeping up your neck. (you always got flustered when he paid attention to you. he loved that.)

kai tilted his head, studying you like he was trying to decide whether you were worth his time. (spoiler: you were. that was the problem.) he shifted closer, his knee brushing yours, his grin sharpening as he watched you try so hard not to squirm. “cool. just making sure, since you look a little…” he let the word hang, raising an eyebrow as his gaze flicked to your flushed face. “...overheated.”

you laughed again, this time nervously, running a hand through your hair. “it’s just hot in here, man.” (it wasn’t. not really. but if that’s the excuse you wanted to cling to, kai wasn’t going to stop you.)

“yeah?” he leaned in, close enough that you could smell the beer on his breath, the faint bite of mint underneath it. “if you pass out or something, i guess i can be the guy who saves your dumb ass. might even give you mouth-to-mouth.” his voice was teasing, but there was something dark and heavy under it, something that made your pulse stutter. (it was the way he said it, like he’d already imagined the scenario—and like it wouldn’t just stop at saving you.)

your laugh came out strangled this time, caught somewhere between discomfort and something else. something you didn’t want to think about. (but kai could see it. the way your pupils dilated, the way your pulse ticked in your throat, the way your eyes darted—just for a second—to his mouth.)

“careful, puppy,” kai murmured, his voice low and dripping with amusement. his knee pressed harder against yours, and his grin sharpened, baring teeth. “you’re starting to look like you want me to put you out of your misery.”

it wasn’t hard to persuade you. not really. kai had always been good at that—finding the cracks, prying them open just wide enough to slip his fingers inside. (and you? you weren’t exactly built to resist. puppy-dog eyes, soft around the edges, desperate to please. fuck, you practically came pre-cracked.)

one minute, you were still in the delta psi beta living room, trying to laugh off the weight of kai’s knee pressed against yours, the heat of his breath brushing your ear. the next, you were stumbling down the hallways of your dorm, your head spinning with too many beers and too much him.

(you weren’t even sure how it had happened. you were saying, “nah, i’m good here, man,” in that too-light, too-nervous tone of yours, and, kai had tipped his head, given you that sharp-edged smirk, and said something like, “c’mon, puppy. let’s get out of this shithole.” and you—golden boy, poster child for frat excellence—had followed him like a lovesick idiot. like a dog. like his dog.)

by the time you reached your dorm, the hallway was dead silent. most of your neighbors were passed out cold, their doors closed, or too busy fucking to care about the pair of you fumbling with your keys. (not that kai would’ve cared if they had been watching. in fact, he probably would’ve loved it—eyes on him, knowing he was the one who’d gotten under your skin, the one dragging the president of delta psi around like some kind of trophy.)

“you’re a mess, president puppy,” kai drawled, his voice syrupy and slow, thick with condescension. his hand was on your wrist, his thumb brushing the inside of it, and it felt like he was taking your pulse—measuring every shaky beat. (too fast. too loud. too much.) he plucked the keys from your trembling fingers like you were too dumb to handle them yourself. (and maybe you were. at least, around him.)

“i’m fine,” you muttered, your voice wrecked and unconvincing. your cheeks were burning, your head buzzing, and your whole body felt like it was vibrating. (you weren’t fine. you didn’t even sound close to fine, and kai noticed. of course he noticed. he always noticed.)

the door swung open, and before you could step inside, kai was already crowding into your space. his hand slid from your wrist to your waist, his fingers digging in just enough to make your breath catch. (he gripped you like you belonged to him, his to hold, to keep, to fuck with. it scared you how much you wanted it.)

“man, this is sad,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear again. (he wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore, and why would he? you weren’t exactly putting up a fight.) “big man on campus, and you can’t even get your own door open. what would your brothers think?”

“i said i’m fine,” you snapped, but your voice cracked halfway through, and kai laughed. (it wasn’t fair, the way his laugh hit you—sharp and mocking, but hot enough to make your stomach twist.)

“sure you are,” he said, kicking the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot. his eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate, like he was assessing you. picking you apart. you felt like you were being stripped bare, and he hadn’t even touched you—not really.

“god, you’re pathetic,” he said, almost to himself, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk again. (but there was something darker underneath it, something hungry. like he was debating what to do with you now that he had you alone. like he was wondering how far he could push you before you cracked completely.)

and then his gaze dipped. lower. lingering.

kai tilted his head, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip. “you know,” he said, his voice a low purr, “i’ve heard a lot of rumors about you, puppy.”

you froze, blinking at him. “rumors?”

“mhm,” he said, circling you like a predator, his eyes dragging down your body. (you’d never felt so small before, which was ridiculous, considering you were taller than him. broader. bigger. but none of that mattered with kai. he had this way of making you feel exposed, raw, like a stupid kid being toyed with by someone much smarter.)

“wanna know the most interesting one?” he continued, and before you could respond, his hand was there now, palming you through your jeans, bold and unrelenting.

“people say you’re packing, president,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. (your breath hitched. your pulse was thundering now, hammering in your throat like it was trying to escape.) “biggest dick in the house, right? that’s what they say about you.”

his grin widened, and his hand squeezed—not enough to hurt, just enough to make your knees buckle. “but you know what i think?”

“kai,” you rasped, but it didn’t sound like a protest. not really.

“i think,” he said, leaning in close enough that his lips brushed your jaw, “it doesn’t matter how big it is if you don’t know how to use it.”

and then he was laughing again, sharp and mean, pulling back just enough to see the look on your face—flushed, panicked, and wrecked. (exactly how he liked you.)

kai’s thumb pressed harder, teasingly slow as he tilted his head, studying you with that infuriating smirk. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath, though it was loud enough for you to hear. his blue-grey gaze dragged lower, zeroing in on the bulge straining against the front of your khakis. (it was humiliating—how obvious it was, how needy you looked. and kai? he was eating it up, his smirk twisting wider as his fingers flexed against you.) “i mean, they weren’t kidding, were they?” his hand tightened, fingers curling around the outline of your cock, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. (the noise you made was somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and the way kai’s eyes lit up said he fucking loved it.)

“that’s what you’ve been hiding under those stupid khakis all this time?” he said, his tone mocking but tinged with genuine curiosity. his thumb dragged slow and deliberate along the length of you, tracing the thick ridge of your shaft through the fabric. (you could feel the heat of his palm through the layers, the weight of it making your cock twitch helplessly under his hand.)

you swallowed hard, your throat dry, your hands gripping the edges of your desk like they were the only things keeping you upright. “kai,” you choked out, trying to sound firm, but it came out as a broken, desperate plea. (not that it mattered—kai wasn’t listening to the words. he was listening to the way you said them. the shaky breath. the crack in your voice. the way his name sounded like it had been ripped straight from your chest.)

“poor thing,” he said, shaking his head like he pitied you. (he didn’t, though. you could see it in the glint of his eyes—he was enjoying this, taking you apart piece by piece.) “all that equipment, and no one’s ever taught you what to do with it.” he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his voice dropped lower. “don’t worry, puppy.” he murmured, the nickname dripping with condescension. “i’ll take good care of you. teach you how to use it. maybe even test drive it myself.”

the words sent a shiver down your spine, your knees buckling slightly, and kai noticed. (of course he noticed. kai always noticed. he had a way of zeroing in on every crack in your armor, the way your chest heaved, the way your cock twitched under his hand, already leaking pre-cum and soaking through the fabric.) “you like that, don’t you?” he whispered, his hand still moving against you, slow and deliberate. (the pressure was maddening—just enough to make you ache, not enough to give you relief. he wanted you like this, trembling under his touch, desperate for more.) “bet you’ve been walking around campus thinking you’re hot shit, huh? thinking you’re god’s gift to women—” he paused, his smirk twisting crueler, “—or maybe men. which is it, puppy? you ever let any of those frat bros get on their knees for you?”

your face burned hot, the shame curling in your stomach like a knot. you tried to look away, but kai’s hand shot up, gripping your jaw and forcing you to meet his eyes. “didn’t think so,” he said, his grip tightening just enough to keep you still. (you couldn’t look away, even if you wanted to. and god, the way his thumb dragged over your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly, made your chest tighten.)

“so fucking clueless,” he murmured, almost to himself. “but that’s okay. i like my toys a little clueless.” his thigh pressed between your legs then, pinning you against the desk, and you couldn’t help the way your hips twitched forward, seeking friction. (it was embarrassing—how little control you had, how easily he could reduce you to this. but kai didn’t look disgusted. no, he looked thrilled.)

“bet you’ve got all kinds of stupid fantasies, don’t you, prez?” he murmured, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. (he didn’t kiss you, though. he could have, but he didn’t. he was holding it just out of reach, teasing you, making you want it.) he gave a sharp laugh when your hips bucked forward again, chasing the friction like a desperate idiot. “good boy,” he said, his voice rough and low, dripping with approval that made your chest tighten. (it shouldn’t have felt good—it shouldn’t have made your cock throb—but it did, and kai fucking knew it.)

“let’s see if you’re worth the hype, huh? let’s see if all that talk about delta psi’s golden boy is true.” his hand slipping down to hook into your waistband. (you held your breath, your pulse hammering in your throat as he dragged your pants down just enough to free your cock, hard and already leaking pathetically.)

kai sucked in a breath, his grin spreading wide as his fingers wrapped around you, stroking slow and deliberate. “well, shit,” he said, his tone sharp and taunting. “guess they weren’t lying after all.” his thumb swiped over the head of your cock, smearing the pre-cum dripping down your shaft, and your knees nearly gave out at the sensation. (you were already a fucking wreck—your skin burning, your breathing ragged, your hips jerking helplessly into his hand like you couldn’t help yourself.)

kai’s hand slid down the length of your cock, his grip tightening just enough to draw a sharp gasp from your lips. (it was pathetic—how easily he had you trembling, how greedily your hips jerked forward, chasing the maddening friction. and kai? he fucking thrived on it. the glint in his blue-grey eyes sharpened, turning darker as he savored every choked whimper, every helpless twitch of your cock in his hand.)

"god, you really are dumb," he drawled, his smirk carving deeper into his face. his thumb swiped over the head of your cock, smearing the slick, sticky pre-cum pooling at the tip, making you jolt in his grip. the noise you made—a strangled mix of a gasp and a moan—shot straight to kai’s ego, his fingers tightening around you in response.) “you’re already dripping all over me, and I’ve barely done anything." (he wasn’t wrong—the wetness was obscene, slicking up his palm and leaving a glistening trail along the underside of your shaft as he stroked you slow and deliberate, every movement calculated to keep you teetering on the edge.)

your knees buckled again, your thighs trembling as you gripped the desk tighter, your head falling back with a broken whimper. "kai, please," you rasped, your voice cracking on the word. (it was humiliating—how wrecked you sounded, how easily he’d reduced you to this. but the worst part? he drank in your wrecked state like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen, a predator reveling in his prey’s helplessness.)

"please?" he echoed, his smirk widening, the mockery in his tone cutting like a knife. "what are you begging for, puppy? huh? you want me to let you cum?" his hand slowed, his thumb pressing teasingly into the slit at the tip of your cock, dragging the slick wetness down over your shaft in slow, deliberate circles. “you want me to let you cum?” (the way he said it—mocking and filthy, like it was a joke—made your chest tighten, your cock twitching helplessly in his hand.)

"y-yeah," you stammered, barely able to get the words out between ragged breaths. "please, kai, i—"

"not happening, prez," he cut you off sharply, his fingers tightening around your cock until you gasped, hips jerking forward on instinct. (the pressure was just shy of painful, his grip like a vice that left your thighs shaking, your mind spinning as the line between pleasure and pain blurred into something overwhelming.) "you don’t get to cum until i say so. got it?"

you nodded frantically, your voice lost to the desperate sounds spilling from your throat as your hips bucked forward again, chasing the friction kai kept just out of reach. (it didn’t matter how desperate you were—kai was in control now, and he was taking his sweet fucking time with you.)

"good boy," he murmured, his voice low and rough, laced with approval that made your cock throb harder in his hand. (the praise shouldn’t have felt so good—shouldn’t have made heat pool in your stomach, shouldn’t have sent another pulse of pre-cum leaking from the tip—but it did, and kai fucking knew it.)

his hand started moving again, slow and deliberate, his thumb teasing the sensitive underside of your cock with every stroke. (the pace was maddening—just enough to keep the coil in your stomach tightening, your chest heaving as you clawed at the desk for something, anything to ground yourself.)

but just as you felt yourself start to tip over the edge, just as the tight knot of pressure in your gut began to snap, kai stopped. “ah, ah,” he scolded, his tone dripping with mockery as he pulled his hand away completely, leaving you throbbing and leaking in the open air. (the sudden loss of contact was agony, your cock twitching helplessly, desperate for the friction he’d stolen away. but kai just leaned back, his smirk twisting crueler as he watched you squirm, your wrecked little whines only fueling his amusement.)

"look at you," he said, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. "so fucking desperate, so fucking needy. Is this how you are with everyone? or just me?" (his eyes dragged over you, taking in the way your cock throbbed, the way your chest heaved, the way your hips twitched forward uselessly, searching for relief.)

“kai,” you choked out, your voice wrecked and broken, your hands trembling as you reached for him. but he caught your wrist with a sharp laugh, shoving it back down onto the desk with enough force to make your breath hitch.

“uh-uh,” he said, his tone sharp as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “you don’t get to touch me. you don’t get to touch yourself. you’ll sit here and take what I give you. understand?” (the weight of his words settled over you like a command, your head nodding frantically even as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the need burning in your gut almost too much to bear.)

“good boy,” kai murmured again, his voice low and dripping with condescension as his hand returned to your cock, his fingers wrapping around you in a firm, punishing grip. (the pressure sent a fresh wave of slick pre-cum spilling from the tip, your hips jerking forward involuntarily as his pace picked up, rougher this time, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge.)

kai’s grip on your cock tightened, his fingers pressing into the slick, throbbing flesh as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “you know,” he drawled, his voice low and mocking, “i should make you beg louder. let everyone outside hear what a desperate little slut the president of the house really is.” (the words dripped from his mouth like poison, slow and deliberate, and the way his breath ghosted over your skin sent a violent shudder racing down your spine. your cock twitched in his hand, leaking shamelessly, and kai? he fucking noticed. of course.)

“god, just imagine it,” he continued, his smirk sharp enough to cut. “one of your precious brothers walking by, hearing those pathetic little noises you keep making.” he gave your cock a slow stroke, his thumb swiping over the head, spreading the slick pre-cum that was pooling there. “you think they’d recognize you? their golden boy prez, standing here with his cock out, dripping all over my hand?” his voice dropped lower, rougher, the words rumbling against your ear in a way that made your chest tighten, heat pooling low in your stomach.

(and he was right. god, he was right. the sharp edge in his voice, the shame curling hot and tight in your chest, the thought of someone walking in—it should have made you recoil, should have made you pull away. but it didn’t. it sent another pulse of heat rushing to your gut, your cock twitching shamelessly in his hand.)

“i—i don’t—” you started to protest, but the words dissolved into a broken moan as kai’s thumb pressed harder against the sensitive slit at the tip of your cock, smearing the slick pre-cum down the length of your shaft. (the sound of it—the wet, filthy noise of his strokes—filled the room, mingling with your shaky breaths and the soft creak of the desk under your trembling thighs. it was obscene, overwhelming, and it only made your knees buckle harder.)

“you’re such a fucking mess,” kai muttered, his grip tightening, his pace picking up just enough to keep you on edge. “standing here, dripping all over my hand like some needy little toy. what do you think your brothers would say if they saw you like this, huh?” his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice dropping into a filthy, teasing whisper.

“kai, please,” you rasped, your voice trembling, breaking, as you tugged weakly at his grip on your jaw. “someone might—”

“walk in?” kai cut you off, his smirk twisting wider. “yeah, they might.” he slowed his strokes, his hand moving in slow, deliberate circles over your cock, dragging his thumb along the sensitive underside with every pass. (the panic in your chest warred with the heat pooling low in your stomach, the thought of being caught making your thighs tremble. but it wasn’t just panic, was it? the shame, the humiliation, the filthy thrill of it—it had your cock throbbing harder, leaking more, the slick wetness making his strokes even louder, even more obscene.)

“hell, maybe i’ll leave the door open wider,” he mused, tilting his head as if he were actually considering it. “let them get a real good look at their precious prez, all wrecked and dripping for me. you think they’d believe it? that their golden boy is just a dumb little slut when he’s with me?”

the thought made your chest tighten, your cock twitching in his hand despite yourself. (you couldn’t help it—the image of someone walking in, seeing you like this, flushed and trembling, your cock flushed dark and leaking all over kai’s hand—it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, shame burning bright and hot in your gut.)

“kai, don’t,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper, but he just laughed—a low, cruel sound that made your stomach twist.

“oh, puppy,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery as his fingers tightened around your shaft, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. “don’t act like you don’t want it. you’d love it if someone saw you like this. you’d fucking love it, wouldn’t you?”

(and the worst part? he wasn’t wrong. the humiliation, the thrill, the filthy heat of it—it was eating you alive, making your hips jerk forward, your cock throbbing against his palm as he teased you mercilessly.)

kai’s grin split wider as he watched you collapse against the desk, your body trembling and slack. you were so wrecked, so far gone, and yet somehow still holding onto whatever shred of dignity you had left—barely. your cock twitched helplessly in the open air, shiny with slick pre-cum that trailed obscenely down the length, pooling on the desk’s polished surface. “god, prez, look at you,” he muttered, his tone dripping with mockery as his gaze dragged over your wrecked body. “such a pretty mess.” his hand hovered near your face, fingers flexing like he was deciding whether or not to touch you again. (the anticipation made your stomach churn, heat pooling low in your gut as you fought the urge to beg for it.)

you whimpered, barely able to lift your head to meet his eyes, and his grin turned downright feral. “hmm? what’s the matter? cat got your tongue?” he teased, his voice low and mocking. then, slowly, he reached for his belt, his fingers brushing deliberately against the metal buckle before undoing it. the sharp, metallic clink sent a shiver racing down your spine. the sound was too loud in the quiet room, cutting through the heavy, oppressive air like a blade. it felt deliberate, like a show just for you, and your thighs clenched together, trying to hide the way your cock twitched at the thought of what was coming.

kai slid the belt free from the loops of his jeans in one smooth motion, the leather whispering against the fabric as he pulled it taut between his hands. “you think you deserve it?” he asked, his voice low and rough, every word dragging across your skin like sandpaper.

“i—” you swallowed hard, your voice breaking as you tried to speak. your throat was dry, your lips trembling as you forced yourself to look up at him. the weight of his gaze was suffocating. “i’ll do whatever you want, kai. just—please.” the words spilled out, raw and desperate, the humiliation sharp as you heard yourself begging. but you didn’t care. the ache was unbearable, your entire body trembling with the need for him to just touch you again.

“whatever i want?” he echoed, his voice dripping with condescension. he popped the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down with an infuriating slowness. (the metallic rasp of the zipper sent another shiver through you, your breathing hitching as he shoved the fabric down his hips, revealing the outline of his cock straining against his boxer briefs.)

your gaze flicked downward, drawn to him like a magnet, and your breath caught in your throat. (the hard, thick length of him pressed against the fabric was impossible to ignore, the heat pooling in your gut turning molten as your thighs trembled.)

“like what you see?” he asked, his voice sharp with mockery, as if he could read every filthy thought running through your head. he steeped closer, his free hand reached out, fingers curling around the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you forward. (the heat of his palm was dizzying, his skin rough against your own, and the closeness made it impossible to think—your cock throbbing painfully as you swallowed hard, your lips parting on instinct.)

you nodded frantically, your wide eyes flicking up to meet his, and kai’s laugh was sharp and cruel. “of course you do,” he muttered, shaking his head. “you’re so fucking easy.”

then he kissed you—hard, messy, claiming—his teeth scraped against your bottom lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth without hesitation. (the taste of him was overwhelming, bittersweet and electric, his mouth demanding and unrelenting, and the sharp sting of his teeth made a broken noise escape from your throat.) his fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you closer, and your hips bucked forward instinctively, your cock brushing against the hard length of his.

kai pulled back, your lips still parted and aching for his. strings of saliva clung between you, catching the dim light in obscene little trails as he licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with something dark and satisfied. “getting ahead of yourself, prez?” he teased, then, without waiting for a response, his free hand slipped between your bodies, wrapping around both of your cocks in one firm, unforgiving grip.

the sudden pressure made your knees buckle, a wrecked moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it. kai didn’t let up, his hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes that had your thighs trembling. (the slick slide of your cock against his sent shockwaves of heat through your body, your breath hitching as you fought the urge to thrust into his hand like some desperate animal.)

“fuck,” kai muttered, his voice rough and low. his eyes were locked on the sight of your cocks sliding together, his grip tightening as he picked up the pace. “look at you. dripping all over me like the needy little slut you are.” the words were cruel, but the heat in his voice, the way his breath hitched as his cock throbbed against yours, sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you.

“kai,” you gasped, your hips jerking forward as your thighs trembled, but he didn’t let up. his strokes were relentless, his pace a steady rhythm that had your breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

“bet you’ve never done this with your little frat bros, huh?” kai said, his smirk splitting wider. “jerking each other off after practice? getting off in the showers?” (the filthy imagery burned in your mind, and you couldn’t help the way your cock twitched in his hand, your chest heaving as heat flooded your face.)

“n-no,” you stammered, but the broken, wrecked tone of your voice only seemed to amuse him further.

“liar,” he hissed, his teeth catching the edge of your jaw as his strokes grew faster, rougher. “bet you fucking loved it. all those eyes on you. you’re such a goddamn exhibitionist, prez.”

your knees buckled, the tension in your body overwhelming as every nerve seemed to scream at once. your head dropped forward, your forehead nearly brushing his shoulder, and you gasped out a shaky breath, hips jerking forward in desperate, uncontrollable movements. the pressure in your gut was unbearable now, winding tighter with every stroke of his hand.

kai’s breath was hot against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it in a way that made you shudder. his grip on your cock tightened, his strokes quick and unrelenting, every pass of his hand sending sparks of heat racing through you. he was relentless, calculated, dragging you right to the edge and holding you there, and it felt like your body was on the verge of snapping in half.

“don’t hold back,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost a whisper. it was close enough that you could feel the vibration of it against your skin. “cum for me, wanna feel it all over my hand.”

the words hit like a spark to dry kindling, and the knot in your stomach unraveled all at once. you came with a wrecked, desperate sound, your thighs shaking as sticky ropes of cum spilled over his hand, dripping down to pool on the floor between you. (the sight of it—messy and obscene—made your chest heave, shame and pleasure tangling together in a way that made your head swim.)

kai didn’t stop. his hand kept moving, relentless and precise, dragging you through the aftershocks with strokes that were both merciless and grounding. his own cock pulsed against yours, the sticky heat of his release smearing over your stomach and the softening length of your cock as he groaned low in your ear.

“fuck,” he hissed, his breath hot against your neck, his voice thick with satisfaction and something darker. his hand stayed wrapped around both of you, slick and filthy, dragging his release over your skin as he pressed his lips to the curve of your shoulder. “look at you,” he muttered, the words rough, almost reverent, as his teeth sank into the flesh of your shoulder. the sharp sting sent a jolt through you, grounding you even as your mind swirled, overwhelmed and dazed.

for a moment, the room was filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing, the wet, obscene slide of his hand slowing as he loosened his grip. his chest rose and fell against your back, warm and solid as he held you there, pressed close, his body a steadying anchor. He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. his eyes were dark, heavy-lidded and glinting with amusement and satisfaction as his lips curled into a lazy smirk.

“messy,” he drawled, his voice low and languid as his fingers swiped through the cum streaking your stomach, smearing it further over your skin in deliberate, slow motions. he lifted his hand, holding it up for both of you to see. the sticky fluid dripped between his fingers, glistening in the dim light as he turned his hand slightly, watching the way it clung to his skin.

his blue-grey eyes flicked back to yours, the amusement there sharpening into something more commanding. “open up, puppy,” he said softly, the edge of authority in his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

your chest heaved, the remnants of your release leaving you spent and pliant, too dazed to resist. slowly, your lips parted, your body obeying on instinct. kai’s fingers slipped into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, the taste of salt and musk filling your senses.

“good boy,” he murmured, his voice soft but cutting, the praise settling over you like a warm weight. his thumb dragged over your bottom lip, smearing a trace of cum there as he withdrew his fingers, leaving your mouth feeling empty, aching for more.

© 𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐖𝐓𝐅’𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐘. 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋.

[midsummer-semantics]

Character Study: Tommy Hagan as Iago from Othello

To begin with, there’s just not enough analysis of Tommy, which is probably mostly due to his complete disappearance in S2. We (fic writers) use him a lot as a plot device for Steve’s King persona or the beginning of his bi-awakening, but Tommy’s presence in the show alone is arguably more sinister than most people give him credit for. He’s still a plot device for Steve, but the same way that Iago is a plot device for Othello.

For those who hear “Iago” and think of the bird in Aladdin, that’s totally valid because the Shakespeare character is 100% the influence for that bird, so if that connection helps the rest of this make sense, hang on to it.

Iago (the character and the bird) gets by on feeding Othello information. His job at the beginning of the play is the banner holder, he follows Othello around with his flag. He wanted second in command, but that job went to Cassio instead. This is kind of where Iago’s character development begins: he was snubbed for second in command, and decides quickly that he needs to do away with Cassio, feeding Othello lies until he believes Iago is a better choice.

In the same vein, Tommy has inserted himself as Steve’s right-hand man. That’s what we see from the literal beginning, Tommy following along with Steve as this second-in-command type of person. We don’t really know if there was a Cassio-esque change over with Steve since he just kind of “pops up out of the pool fully formed” (thank you @peter-pantomime for that), but Iago traveled to Venice with Othello to begin with, was always kind of there regardless, so it’s safe to say that Tommy was too. However, like with Iago, Tommy seems to be the real thoughts behind the operation while Steve is the voice that everyone hears. Tommy is, for all intents and purposes, the bird on Steve’s shoulder. Tommy is the puppet master that gives Steve just enough leeway to think he’s the one calling the shots. This is seen in particular with the spray paint incident, since it’s Tommy who’s literally shown with the spray paint can in his hand in the alley, and can be assumed to be the one who tagged the marquee, but Steve is the one who (however unintentionally) takes responsibility for it by doubling down on the accusation.

On that note, the other person Iago goes after is Desdemona, Othello’s wife. Immediately after Othello and Des are married, Iago is the one who tells her father, painting it as this desecration of his pure (white) daughter by this dark (black) [for lack of a better word] creature. It’s Iago’s idea to frame Desdemona as an adultress that ultimately ends in her death.

If we look at those ideas with Tommy, from the get go he (and Carol) are rude and distancing of Nancy, and while Steve is walking this tightrope of wanting to be seen as the top dog while also being whatever Nancy needs him to be, Tommy (and Carol) are causing problems on purpose. Don’t get me wrong, Jonathan and the secret camera incident don’t help, but ultimately it’s Tommy who whispers the thoughts into Steve’s brain about Nancy being a cheater (she was, at least emotionally, but that’s neither here nor there for this comparison) that ultimately leads to the first big breakup. The “death” of Desdemona plays out in the S1 breakup of Steve and Nancy, especially since their reconciliation is never solidified given Nancy’s withdrawal quickly after.

But what the heck is the motive for any of it?

We (Shakespeare people) know Iago has this weird desire for power without seeming to want anything to do with actually wielding it at the forefront. He seems perfectly content to have power over others in the most conniving of ways, but never an “I want to be king” sort of way. Tommy has that same energy, following Steve until it stops being convenient and then moving on to Billy when he “usurps the throne.”

But it’s this weird, intentional isolating of Steve for Tommy’s benefit that mirrors Iago’s intentions with Othello so well. This whole “if I can’t have him, nobody can” sort of attitude that leads both Iago and Tommy to push back against anyone who gets too close to their focus of attention. It’s a jealousy aspect, not in the sense that Tommy/Iago want to be Steve/Othello, but that they’re the only one allowed to be in that position of proximity to them. Tommy/Iago’s entire thing is shifting attention away from themselves while maintaining all of the power. Iago does it with Cassio, using him as the scapegoat in his plan against Desdemona, two birds with one stone. Tommy does it with Jonathan, using him to convince Steve that Nancy really is the slut he accuses her of being. Basically, the moment Steve sees (or thinks he sees) Jonathan with Nancy in her bedroom and misreads the situation just enough to convince him of her cheating is the equivalent to the handkerchief in Othello.

It also sort of begs the question of whether Iago or Tommy have done this in the past. Is Nancy the first girl Tommy’s actively caused an issue with, or does he do this regularly? Is it because Nancy is the first person Tommy doesn’t feel like he can manipulate, thereby labeling her a threat to his power the same way Iago does with Desdemona? 

There’s a surface-level (heterosexual) reading of Othello that makes it seem like Iago wants Desdemona for himself, which sure, the fact he’s already married to Emilia while contriving this entire scheme intended to break up Othello and Desdemona can be read as a parallel to Tommy’s relationship with Carol and focus on ending Steve and Nancy’s relationship. But going back to the “If I can’t have him, nobody can” idea, it’s more likely that Tommy and Iago are dealing with this unrequited love situation with their respective male subjects that results in not only a desire for power but this obsessive need to isolate them so that the only person they feel they can rely on is already perched on their shoulder at all times.

Spoiler alert, though, Iago dies, and while Tommy just kind of disappears into the ether, that final scene where Steve finally stands up for himself and cuts ties with Tommy is not entirely unlike Othello finally realizing who Iago really is and killing him himself. The death of the friendship reads like the death of the partnership in both cases. Tommy only just makes it one step further than Iago by attaching himself to the next person in line which is Billy, but there’s no telling if Tommy wouldn’t have done the same manipulative technique with him given the chance. It's also an interesting character development parallel for Steve since him standing up to Tommy can be viewed as the "death" of his King Steve persona more than Billy's introduction can, and Othello's last stand before his death is to make sure Iago goes down as well.

Obviously none of this is good, but Tommy doesn’t really get the credit he deserves for being, for all intents and purposes, a poster child for the Shakespearean villain. All of his sinisterness exists in the background, but it’s definitely there.

[blushydiorrb]

blushydior

getting ready for dream girl summer 🌸🫧

a post on getting through the summer flawlessly as a dream girl <3

getting through summer looks like… basking & glowing in the beautiful sun, traveling, going out with ease, having fun, being messy and more. so let’s begin.

♡ categories: 

what does your ideal summer for this year look like? ideas, moodboards

physical: summer essentials, what to wear, makeup looks, luxuries, summer reads and bucket lists. 

mental: mindset, wellness, reads and bucket list ideas

  ♡ what’s your ideal summer? ♡

you create the definition of dream girl and it can always change. so decide what your mind and body needs. is this a time for healing? or is this a time to be adventurous?

do you see yourself in nature, enjoying the silence after a chaotic winter and spring? or going to parties, hanging out with friends, meeting new people and trying so many new things?

or why not both? ���

some bucket list ideas:

spend more time outside than on your phone

have a morning routine. don’t lose structure in the day. switch it up for summer and make it fun.

make a list of nice restaurants in the city to try out

plan out picnic dates

buy disposable cameras and have them developed at the end of summer!

go skydiving

go to a fancy hotel bar and leave the place with someone’s number (or many)

go on late night drives!

explore a random city

try out new foods

most important of all: follow your gut. keep your safety your #1 priority.

                         physical

♡ summer essentials

sunscreen duhh, is a must no matter the season, especially for summer.

⤷ apply sunscreen before you go out and reapply ever 2 hours. look for products that are: lightweight & nonsticky, don’t leave a white cast, spf 50++

anything from sol de janeiro ugh <3

waterproof jewelry

sunglasses

sea salt spray

shimmer body oil

after sun care

your signature scent for summer (scent recommendations below)

pack light and smart with makeup if you’re one to touch up: lipstick (can be used for your eyes and cheeks also), eyeliner, etc.

hair clips/ties

qtips for makeup smudges

mini fan to cool down

small wallet

have fun and unplug but if it’s a must, carry a portable charger if you didn’t charge it in the car or before you left the house.

tissues (for sweat, blotches)

♡ outfit essentials

sundresses

mini !! skirts !!

mules

bikini tops as regular tops

gold hoop earrings

silk scarves

flowy bottoms, skirts, dresses

a cute cover up

patterns

mini bag

backless tops

                         beauty

♡ warmer weather calls for natural, glowy looks

the sun is out so it’s only natural for me to want to glow when the sun is hitting my face and body ♡ i love to really highlight my highest points.

applying subtle gold shimmer on your eyelids

lipgloss!

preferably one that is hydrating, slightly pigmented to bring out the colors in your lips & glowy. not sticky. my recommendation is the dior lip glow stick.

highlighter

my favorite is mac’s strobe highlighter in peachlite. it honestly gives my skin such a beautiful and subtle pink glow to my face!! i love applying it before my makeup.

⤷ don’t forget your collarbones and shoulders.

there is nothing else that makes me feel like a radiating goddess walking down the street when i put highlighter on my body.

⤷ also, layering powder products on top of wet/creamy products make them more pigmented! this is why you see some people wet their eyeshadow brushes before dipping them into the product ♡

blushed & flushed or nothing!

who doesn’t love a good blushed face during the summer? just because your blush is visible doesnt mean you’re wearing too much!!!! own it!!

have fun with subtle pops of color 💋

it doesn’t have to be too crazy. keep it simple.

ideas can be:

- two toned eyeshadows

- colorful winged eyeliners

- a bold lip

nails ♡

- fun & bright colors like orange & blue

- if you want to keep it simple: french tips, nudes!

♡ summer scent recommendations

marc jacobs perfect

delina - de marly

le labo thé noir 29

chanel chance

replica beachwalk & bubble bath

tom ford soleil blanc, lost cherry, neroli portofino, bitter peach

good chemistry coco blush

victoria secret bombshell beach

ariana grande - sweet like candy

solinotes cherry blossom

              for the mind & soul

♡ summer reads

nothing better than a good summer read. here are some recommendations!

my year of rest and relaxation - ottessa moshfegh

it happened one summer - tessa bailey

hook, line, and sinker - tessa bailey

beach read by emily henry

people we meet on vacation by emily henry

book lovers by emily henry

one hot italian summer - karina halle

malibu rising - taylor jenkins reid

every summer after by carley fortune

the wedding crasher by mia sosa

twisted series - ana huang (twisted love, twisted games, twisted hate, twisted lies)

birthday girl - penelope douglas

love & gelato - jenna evans welch

one italian summer - rebecca serle

hands down - mariana zapata

better than the movies - lynn painter

- have fun. kisses from blushydior ♡

[unchataparis]

Colder Than Titanic Water

Liladrien Week 2024 | Day Seven: Date

Lyle checks himself out in the mirror before he leaves. Red leather jacket, white shirt with a dramatic v-neck, distressed blue jeans – looking good!

The gold ring he wears on a near-invisible chain around his neck bounces gently against his chest as he scrunches his nose at his own reflection. The metal is warmed to skin temperature and its pretty metallic surface reflects the dim lights of his apartment. Lyle’s hands are covered with gel that he carefully applies to his pompadour.

One last spray of Acqua Dell’Elba’s Arcipelago and he is good to go.

Outside, it has started raining lightly. The faint aroma of petrichor begins to infest the city as Lyle makes the brisk walk down to his car. He shudders as he pulls himself inside his red coupé Porsche. As much as he had been enjoying Paris, its weather had been testing him lately.

As he drives through the streets, he sees mature women with children on either side of him. Cafés beginning to close as final coffee orders are called out. A bookshop with a black cat in its window front squints its eyes suspiciously at him as Lyle flips it his middle finger back. When the light turns green, Lyle makes sure to squeal his tires loudly enough to startle the wretched feline.

By the time Lyle pulls up before the great glowing mausoleum of the Graham de Vanily Estate, the Sun has all but set. The sky is a Prussian-indigo colour and the clouds are wisps of grey smoke.

Lyle leans out his rolled-down side window and quickly jams his thumb against the intercom button.

The speaker cracks.

“Yes?” comes an irritated, gravelly voice.

“It’s me,” Lyle says, just as irritated. The fucker can see him through the camera. He bears a toothy false smile at the lens. “I’m here to pick up Adrienne.”

The red light remains on for a few seconds more. Lyle imagines that Nicholas is debating whether or not it’s likely Lyle will leave if he ignores him. Fat chance. Lyle will ram his Porsche through the fucking gates of the Estate and make Nicholas pay for the damages to his baby.

The red light blinks off and the doors creak open, an electronic signal commanding them to part as slowly as possible. Lyle growls and flips up another middle finger at the dead security camera before driving through the gates to park neatly at the foot of the stairs. 

The doors of the Graham de Vanily Mansion are already cracking open, sending a pillar of aureate light to filter through like a hand reaching down from Heaven.

Émile Graham de Vanily, in white trousers and a cashmere sweater, beams at Lyle who has just slammed his car door shut and is moving up the stairs quickly, wincing at each cold drop of water that falls from the sky.

“Goodness,” Émile says, seizing Lyle by the shoulders when he reaches him. “You should’ve called ahead, I could’ve met you with an umbrella.”

“Ah, it’s no bother, Monsieur,” Lyle says. “A little rain never harms anybody.”

Lyle says this while wanting to throttle someone for the state of his hair.

“Come in, come in,” Émile says, gesturing for Lyle to walk into the warmth. “No need to catch a cold on this lovely night.”

The doors shut behind them and Émile leads the way into the foyer. Lyle squints down at the marble between his feet, trying to judge by his murky reflection whether or not he needs to duck into a bathroom to freshen up.

Inside the Graham de Vanily Mansion, every last light in each sconce and chandelier is on, making Lyle feel as if he has walked into a hardware store or a house on fire. The rain has started earnestly outside, fat raindrops the size of bullets hammering against windows and drizzling down. 

Lyle feels pity for any poor fucker caught in that storm.

Read the rest on Ao3 here.

[anniekoh]

elsewhere on the internet: jewish currents

Jewish Currents has consistently published articles that I think about for days afterwards. Here are a few pieces from recent issues.

Can Tourist Be Liberatory

Raphael Magarik: People often think of tourism as shallow, consumerist, and apolitical. How is solidarity tourism different? Jennifer Lynn Kelly: In solidarity tourism, guides educate tourists about their context, their conditions, and their freedom struggles. In each of the tours considered in my book—which range from the week-long tours across historic Palestine, to day tours of cities or villages in the West Bank, to two-hour tours in the eastern part of occupied Jerusalem or in West Jerusalem—guides focus on the history of Palestinian displacement and provide an alternative to Zionist narratives. For example, on bus tours through the West Bank, guides will point to sprawling Palestinian terraces and explain how Palestinians have always cared for the land. In doing so, they are intervening in the Zionist idea that Palestine was “a land without a people for a people without a land.” By assembling these kinds of itineraries, the guides are pressing tourism into the service of anti-colonial work.

JLK: Tourism often aspires toward authenticity: unfettered access to an unscripted world. That is a consumerist desire. Solidarity tourism is not exempt from this tendency, but it reveals and subverts the script of tourists’ expectations. For instance, in the book I talk about a moment where a tourist was looking at a blackened wall in Nablus and asked, “What happened here?” And the tour guide said, “Someone was spray painting their bed frame.” In these moments, tour guides are interrupting tourists’ desire for a narration of violence and only violence.

RM: The Israeli siege of Gaza essentially renders in-person tourism impossible. How do guides respond to this problem? JLK: In Gaza, some guides might walk tourists virtually through their space and answer questions about their conditions. Others use recorded snippets to create a hypothetical tour where they say, “If you were to take a walking tour in Gaza City, here is where I would take you.” There are also virtual tours that help visitors imagine a vibrant, thriving tourism industry in Gaza after liberation. Like solidarity tourism, these virtual experiences are a true refiguring of tourism. The result is not just a camera leading tourists through a space but an exercise in imagining liberation.

Portraits of Encounter

Aliza Nisenbaum’s exhibition at the Queens Museum is bookended by a pair of paintings that create an echo. At one end hangs La Talaverita, Sunday Morning NY Times (2016), in which a teenage girl and her father read the paper on a couch.

...

“The best portrait painters working today introduce something new into art not through stylistic innovations, but by whom they choose as subjects,” Dushko Petrovich wrote in an article that discusses Nisenbaum’s work published in T Magazine in 2018. Certainly, there’s gratification in seeing marginalized people get the kind of sumptuous treatment they receive in Nisenbaum’s paintings. But reading Nisenbaum primarily through the lens of representation elides important aspects of her practice—for example, she paints dancers and flowers, and she gets as animated about color as she does about her subjects.

Portraiture gives Nisenbaum a framework in which to encounter other people. In this she’s like the artist Alice Neel, who famously canonized friends, neighbors, and art-world figures in portraits so penetrating, they can be uncomfortable to look at. Neel called herself a “collector of souls”; Nisenbaum, by contrast, seems less interested in baring people’s true selves on canvas than in capturing something of their profound unknowability. Her subjects are often lost in thought or activity, like Marissa in La Talaverita and Pedacito de Sol. Others are immersed in settings filled with material culture—like Andra, a facilities staffer at the Queens Museum whom Nisenbaum depicts in his office,

She also developed a policy of compensating sitters. Before she was selling her work, she would cook for them and give them their finished paintings. (These small gestures of care sometimes yielded significant results; during the Covid-19 pandemic, when they were struggling with unemployment, Marissa and her mother were able to sell two early Nisenbaum pieces to Anton Kern Gallery, which represents the artist.) Now that there is a market for her work, Nisenbaum pays her subjects, and donates to organizations that are somehow aligned with the people she’s depicting in a given project. In the case of the current exhibition, that’s the La Jornada and Queens Museum Cultural Food Pantry, which takes place at the museum every Wednesday.

Such practices build on Levinas’s idea of an ethics grounded in the face-to-face encounter. In the process, they help Nisenbaum mitigate the exploitation that has been a hallmark of art history, especially when the people being portrayed come from groups on the margins of society. But beyond payment, Nisenbaum is interested in mutual relationships as both a standard and a subject. For example, the exhibition includes a large painting of the pantry titled Eloina, Angie, Abril y Marleny, Despensa de Alimentos, Queens Museum (2023). It’s a vertiginous scene of flattened perspective in which produce, volunteers, and “shoppers” form a sweeping, colorful loop of activity.

Bad Memory

an editorial column written by members of the Jewish Currents staff and reflects a collective discussion.

Germany is acclaimed for its efforts to atone for the Holocaust. But its method of repudiating the past has become a tool of exclusion.

..

To show itself fit to enter the community of Western European nations, a new, reunified Germany set out to prove, over the next two decades, that it had sufficiently repented. Germans even coined a new word—Vergangenheitsbewältigung—to name the process of “coming to terms with the past” that has become a linchpin of German national identity. Seeking to bolster its claim to penitence, the newly reunified country trumpeted a “Jewish renaissance” driven largely by immigration from the former Soviet Union—an influx of Jews that, as the scholar Hannah Tzuberi has put it, became the “most valuable guarantor of [Germany’s] democratic, liberal, tolerant character.”

[bratty-telepath]

Moments That Flash By

(A David & Darlin fic)

Yo, this is Laveau stopping in to say:

Hi! what you're about to read is David & Darlin fic that touches slightly on Darlin's past w the pack while referencing fics such as "Shattered Glass Makes a Good Weapon" and "Another Night, Out on Another Road" which refer to their bite and leaving of Dahlia. Additionally, I must tell you that this includes a good bit of swearing, aggressive language, a threat or two and mentions of Quinn, de*d p*rents and their general issues involving their social standing in the pack.

Aside from that, Darlin goes by he/they in this fic and is named Darren! With that out the way, enjoy some light angst/comfort :)

"It's been a while since I've seen you pick up a camera."

Darren's eyes were instantly drawn to the voice behind him, quickly turning around to face the speaker of the moment, only to meet David leaning on a nearby wall as he kept his arms crossed. The shifter's first instinct was to take a step back, something David quickly took note of if the change of his expression's hardness to a soft calm was anything to go by.

"You're not in trouble." He sighed. "I just wanted to check on you."

Darren calmed himself slightly after hearing that, the wolf choosing to let his guard down slightly as his stance shifted into ease while he removed his grip from the sides of the camera hanging from his neck.

"Dad would've been glad to see you picking up your old habits again." The alpha mused.

Despite the current picture of David leaning against a brick wall as his upper body was layered in shadow and his more gaunt musculature was set in display of the light, he seemed at peace. His face relaxed and his features gentle as his warm brown eyes kept its steady focus on the younger shifter.

"...sure."

The alpha shrugged. "I assume you're out here for work?"

"Is it your business?" Darren growled.

"No, but I would like for you to tell me."

They took a minute but then shrugged as the shifter shoved their hands into their pockets. "...I'm just destressing."

David's eyes scanned the area. "Weird place to de-stress."

They huffed in response as they took their camera in hand again and turned back to the scene ahead, an empty skating park.

High in the sky, the afternoon sun sat as it bathed the area in a bright, warm glow. The murals and doodles made by teenagers from long ago were given life as their colors became emboldened under the light's touch while faint memories sprang to life in their mind's eye. The wind picked up and Darren could almost hear laughter echo from around them as they brought their camera to their face and started drafting the park for a potential shot.

Surprisingly, David remained quiet throughout the process. If he said something, it wasn't detectable by any standard because Darren could only attest that he heard nothing come from the alpha's lips. For all intensive purposes, it seemed as though he just watched as the photographer did his thing. That wasn't to say Darren wasn't glad to be undisturbed but it did make things feel…off.

Finally the shifter found what they were looking for, a decent setup for a picture. The scene visualizes a set of stairs with an angle looking downward at the flight of steps as though to capture the sun casting shadows that had perfectly overlapped in the form of a X above a sprayed on layout of childish doodles.

The camera clicked and David finally spoke again.

"I just remembered where we were." He remarked.

"What gave it away?" Darren huffed. "The ramps?"

"No, the stairs. That's where we all used to sit back then."

They didn't reply to that.

"You and Asher would be skating." He started. "Milo would be listening and relistening to his playlist on his nearly-dead iPod, and I'd just watch you two while I was next to him."

"Yeah, like a creep." The wolf replied. "Even as a teen, you somehow managed to scare everyone around you with a look."

"I was the oldest so I had to look tough enough so that no one would pick on you while we were out alone."

"Asher and I were getting into more fights than you could count back then, we were more than capable of going by ourselves."

"I had to be there for supervision reasons."

Darren inhaled. "Did you come here to disturb me with your usual shit or was there a point to this?"

David's expression slightly hardened again and he expected to hear the alpha let loose some sign of exasperation but found himself surprised when he got nothing instead but the sight of the other taking a breath.

"I want to talk, Tank. It's been a while."

"Why?" They turned to actually face him, a challenging stare shooting his way as unwavering attention met them again.

"I just said why."

"No, you said you wanted to check on me. Why?"

"It's my job as–"

Darren rolled his eyes. "Forget it."

"What?"

"Forget. It."

David growled. "Fine."

They crossed their arms and waited for something from him–anything of particular interest that showed he was at the very least considerate of his time with them today. Still he said nothing, but he waited. On what? The other couldn't tell but it burnt at his core to have David look at him in silence rather than just say something.

"What? What do you want?" Darren groaned. "Why are you here? What could be so important that you refuse to leave after I metaphorically bite and tell you to fuck off?"

David hesitated to answer–uncharacteristically so.

Darren knew David for a long time since they entered the pack, and they knew he didn't falter when it came to anything he had to say, which only facilitated the questions and assumptions that flooded his mind as he tried to comprehend the circumstances surrounding his appearance through their own frustration.

With a lack of an answer being provided, they continued.

"I'm literally not built for this guessing game shit, David. So fucking tell me exactly what you want or leave me the fuck alone and wait til the next pack meeting when I actually have to put up with you."

"Why are you so pissed at me?" He growled.

"Because you're wasting my time with this mind game of yours as per usual! I didn't learn telepathic magic, I can't read your fucking mind and yet you insist I somehow translate this cryptic shit of yours like I have the capacity to." They let out a harsh breath in their need for oxygen before continuing. "You did it when we were in highschool, in this park. You did it when I got back, at my apartment. Now, you're doing it again, so–"

"I wanted to know that you're ok."

"Why?" Darren questioned.

"You know why."

"No. Tell me why. You don't get to pussy foot your way out of this."

"Because I care about you!"

The defiance in their eyes hadn't died as they studied him, in fact Darren could feel it having grown with more;

Anger.

Anger in this case needed to be tempered. He'd learned enough from being around Sam that he let his temper get the best of him and sought to do better, especially after he had the poorest track record in doing that beforehand. They'd been more prone in the past to get aggressive, and with Quinn that meant being physically violent. Now they'd managed it enough that they would rely on their words before they would use their fists, or claws…or teeth. In this instance, he'd have to do what Logan, the Solaire prince's partner, advised him to do.

They took a breath. "And?"

"And, it's because I care about you that I want to know how you're doing."

Another breath in, another out, and they were able to calmly continue. "I'm fine. I haven't stirred up any more trouble than Quinn since I came back from Washington."

"That's not what I meant."

Deep breaths went out the window as Darren let out a low growl from their throat. "What do you mean?"

"You've been throwing yourself at everything. I've hardly seen you take a moment to rest every time I've seen back at the den, and save today, I hardly hear from you. I want to know you're okay and if you need help."

"I don't want the pack's help."

"You're not answering me."

"Now you see how I feel."

David's face shifted in some sort of realization before he pressed again, this time with more bewildered distraught laced in his face. "I just want to help. You need help."

"The 'help', you're referring to, can shove itself up your ass with the stick you lodged up there."

The alpha sighed. "You've been coming at me for being cryptic and yet here you are! You won't answer me straight, you won't tell me anything about how you're actually doing. All I've seen you do is hunt Quinn at every turn for some revenge quest!"

"You wouldn't know shit about why I'm hunting that fucker down because you don't know shit about me, David! So I suggest you shut your fucking mouth before I slam it shut against the concrete."

A threat. Those never flew well and Darren knew if he told the rest of the pack, they'd call for him to get kicked out–whether David would finalize that or not was something he was uncertain of, but he did know that this was heading down a bad direction. Still, they didn't care. They were mad and they had thrown managing it out the window to let themselves finally go at him.

"I see what you're doing. I've done what you're doing." David took a step forward and Darren took one back, something the larger man took notice of before he stopped and spoke again. "You don't have to carry your problems alone. I did after–", he paused, very likely to process the brief flashes of that day if Darren was correct, "–I learned that I didn't have to do that with mine."

They scowled. "You think you had problems after your dad died? Boo-fucking-hoo!"

That got something to break the stale calm he was holding in his face and deep in Darren's core, they knew a nerve was struck but pressed on even as he continued to approach, stepping back with each move he took forward. Even if it meant he may have been angry, it was at least more of a reaction than the cold, empty stoicism he proudly strutted around with as David the emotionally repressed pack alpha.

"I had no one while everyone tried to help you! You put everyone at a distance, while I actually wanted help and no one gave it to me."

"Tank–"

He was moving faster, getting closer, and Darren's instincts were telling him to be ready for a fight, to gain distance and strike if he made any suspicious movement. Already he could feel his body shift itself for such an occasion as his teeth and nails started to pronounce themselves more under his magic's influence.

"I was alone and you had the chance to get help from everyone, I didn't–"

One step forward, one step back, just like some twisted tango between the two as emotions screamed within Darren and clouded his mind. Unspoken threats buzzed in Darren's head, his lack of care to read whatever David was feeling being pushed further by the urge to hurt in some way.

"–so excuse me when I don't take you seriously for trying to care about me when this pack's 'care' has left me with a goddamn vampire bite and restless nights wondering when exactly I'm going to wake up and find him on top of me again, with his teeth in my neck–"

"Darren!"

His feet hit an edge and Darren realized quickly that they'd run out of space to walk as the floor dipped into a bowl ramp. The next thing they knew now was that they were about to fall. The wolf braced for impact with the ground but quickly found himself in a tight hug as he remained somewhat suspended from falling.

"I'm sorry."

Darren's eyes widened. A part of him doubted he'd actually heard that so naturally his next response was, "what?"

"I'm sorry for leaving you like I did."

The shifter could now confirm he wasn't actually making up what he heard. David had apologized.

David. Had. Apologized.

Something in him said to push away, take the damage from the fall, run and never look back, because nothing here was right. This wasn't normal, none of this was. In all he'd remembered David to be, he knew that he would've lashed out, grabbed him for talking about Gabe, thrown him around for making threats–or, was that what he'd told himself?

"I was caught up in trying to close myself off in order to be the leader that I thought the pack needed, that I neglected the people in the pack that needed me most, and I'm sorry."

Darren froze. Then he started to cry. He didn't mean to, he wasn't trying to, but suddenly everything came at once and he couldn't stop himself from crying into David's arms. He was sobbing and as he felt himself find footing on solid ground again with the larger man's assistance, he reached for closer contact as his arms stretched behind David's back to keep a hold of him.

It was almost humiliating for them to be doing this, disgusting even. Yet they didn't stop doing it. They kept holding onto David and crying as their fingers grabbed tight to his jacket like he'd disappear if they let go, and David let them. He was actually letting them keep him like this, just like every other time they would before;

Just like the nights they couldn't sleep after their parents died, or the times when the pack felt like more than they could handle, or after a hard day back at high school when everything felt set against them. It felt like the good parts of everything that they had before David pushed them back, and Darren half-expected him to do so again, but he didn't.

Instead, he hugged tighter. He rubbed circles into their back with his hand, leaned closer into them and wrapped around them like a large shield to keep them away from the rest of the world.

"I'm sorry for not protecting like I should've."

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes (or however long that was, time hadn't seemed to matter then). Darren stopped crying some time ago and let himself stay there as safety reacquainted itself with him.

Then a click sounded off and the two jumped back in unison, not breaking proximity but quickly searching the area before the smaller shifter looked at his camera and sighed.

In the emotion, one of them hand accidently set the camera off to take a pic. The wolf almost had a mind to delete the photo but stopped when he took a second to look over the image. Somehow the camera angled itself right between the two as they were hugging, their bodies dark against the background of the dying, orange afternoon light above them as the picture looked up from a worm's eye view, like witnessing two greater beings find peace in one another's company away from an all too overwhelming world.

"The camera accidentally went off?" David asked

"Yeah. Wasn't watching my hands." They quickly saved the image, set the camera off and covered its lens with a cap.

"It's ok."

Darren finally took notice of the area around them again and quickly realized it was getting darker, Sam would be up and around soon and he'd worry his ass off if Darren came back later than he said he would've been. Still, the sunset against the city set a gorgeous picture before him as a breeze swept through the old skate park and hit the shifter's face, prompting him to wipe whatever wetness had been leftover from his tears.

"... I don't blame you for leaving." David said.

"...I do." They admitted.

"You did what you had to."

"I ran, David. I didn't have to do that."

"You–" The alpha sought to make a counterpoint to that but stopped as his eyes fell to the other's choker. "You made your choice, and I understand it."

"Right…" Darren huffed. "I'm sorry for what I said."

"I know. I remember your temper. You didn't mean it."

"No, that doesn't make it ok. I shouldn't have said that."

"I've said worse before."

"Yeah…I don't entirely blame you for what you did. I know you wanted to do what you thought was right, and I get that."

"It wasn't right. Not for the pack, not even for me, or you."

"Hm." Darren rose to his feet and offered David a hand, one that he took as the smaller wolf helped him find his standing. "I need to get going."

"Right. Sam?"

The shifter smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would like you to tell me." He smiled.

"...Next time." They turned on their feet and started walking. "Maybe at the next pack meeting?"

"Or next Friday?" Darren turned slightly to find David standing with both hands in his jacket. "Asher and Milo wanted to get everyone together to play halo."

"Halo?"

"Yeah."

"That shit game we played the last time that kept glitching?"

"The exact one."

Darren shrugged. "Sure."

"You can meet me by the den and I'll pick you up."

"Or I could just follow your scent?" He tapped his nose. "Wolf, remember?"

"Or, you could stop being a little shit and let me carry you, tough guy."

Darren shook his head and smiled as he kept walking towards the exit of the park. "Fine, I'll see you next Friday."

[wweassets]

Costume Contest anon here. Just in time for SummerSlam… It’s time for the Fantasy Summer Playgirl spread! HBK was able to re-connect with his contacts at Playgirl.com to organize a charity photoshoot, and he even personally invited a few AEW guys to participate. Let’s flip through the pages and check out the centerfolds…

BR*N BRE*KKER is at the Mat Gala after-party at night, climbing out the pool after skinny dipping. He’s flexing his triceps as he lifts himself up, with his wet muscular ass shining in the moonlight. He’s looking at the camera with intensity in his eyes, water dripping down his body and his silver necklace hanging from his neck. On the ground beside him is the black mesh bodysuit he peeled off earlier.

W*RDLOW is doing a tribute to his new brief-cut singlet. He’s standing under an outdoor shower at the beach and wearing just a wet black tank-top clinging to his upper body, with his huge ass cheeks sticking out underneath.

L*GAN PAUL is on the beach and walking out of the water wearing a black scuba suit. He’s unzipping it down to the base of his penis, with his round ass sticking out on both sides, even visible from the front-facing view.

M*TT R*DDLE is re-creating his photo with Reese Rideout in a pool in Vegas, except they are both fully nude this time. Riddle’s long erect penis is resting on top of the water, with his arm around Reese.

R*CKY STARKS is re-creating his photoshoot in the waterfall, except he’s taken his swimsuit off. He’s giving a sideways pose and walking through the water, with his fat ass resting on top of the shallow water.

C*RMELO H*YES is sitting in a white VIP cabana at a pool party, wearing nothing but a white floral button down shirt, unbuttoned. He’s holding a glass of champagne, with this huge erect dick pointed upwards and to the right across his muscular abs. A few feet away from him is TR*CK W*LLIAMS, fully nude and laying stomach-down on a lawn chair, raising a champagne glass to the camera and his huge ass sticking into the air.

S*TH ROLLINS is paying tribute to America’s favorite sport - baseball! He’s squatting over the catcher’s mound with his back to the camera, wearing nothing but a backwards retro WWF hat and a catcher’s glove. His muscular cheeks spread apart as he squats, showing his slightly hairy hole. He’s turning his head to the side to reveal a big smile as he laughs maniacally.

PR*TTY DE*DLY are naked mermen, perched up on a giant rock in the sea, with their tails forming right below their fat asses, and their long wet hair waving in the breeze.

LA KN*GHT is in the driveway of his home washing his red Ferrari. He’s wearing nothing but a white tank top, which he’s spraying with his hose making it wet and see-through, and making his erection pointed upwards visible through the shirt.

JD McD*NAUGH and S*M GRADWELL are re-creating their famous nude balcony pic, only they are fully nude and dripping wet, with their speedos draped over the glass railing. They’re both pointing their fat asses toward the camera, and grinning devilishly.

ANG*L G*ARZA is re-creating his waterfall shot in the pool, only this time, he’s fully nude. He’s facing the waterfall this time, with the water falling onto his fat ass and splashing everywhere.

MJF and AD*M C*OLE are on the beach - Max is nude laying stomach-down on the sand, as Adam has begun to build a small sandcastle on top of Max’s huge mountain ass cheeks. Adam is fully nude and oiled up, with his erection resting on this thigh. Both are laughing hysterically, enjoying their summer bromance.

C*DY RH*DES is just… KEN! He’s fully nude, standing still like a doll in the pink box, with his erection pressed up and laid across the plastic case.

Which 3 pin-up’s are you hanging on your wall?

OH SLAAAAAAAAY 🙏🙏🙏🙏thank you thank you thank you!!! you have delivered AGAIN wowowowoowow these are all SO fucking hot :///

ummm THIS WAS HARD AS ALWAYS BUT…

🥉

seth… he’s always gonna be in top, and the vision of him showing of his ass like that… yeah

🥈

cody… i’m just horny for ken and cody doing THAT? yup yup

🥇

angel… simple, so simple, but so effective… that fat ass just takes it

honourable mentions to pretty deadly and bron!

how about everyone else?

[fleurcareil]

East Quebec: Côte Nord part 2

In the morning, when I checked in for the boat excursion for a tour of the western Mingan Archipelo,, I was surprised to receive a thick lifevest-jacket as the excursion the previous day had been on a regular tourist boat... turned out that we were now braving the rough sea on a little speedboat! 😳 Needless to say that we got quite some wave-spray over us but luckily the wind dried quickly again👍.

The first island we passed by was literally covered with hundreds of seals, which quickly slipped into the water when we got closer. Very special to see, especially when a few curious ones came over to check us out 😍. I really need to buy a better camera to capture wildlife but trust me, there's many seals in the pic!

We then visited the Île aux Perroquets which is named after the many puffins which make the island its home. I've seen puffins several times before in Newfoundland and Iceland but they continue to be extremely cute with their beaks & droopy eyes 💖 (There's 3 in the top left corner of the first photo and then 6 in the last one). The island is tiny with a road from the dock to the lighthouse where you can stay overnight - mostly done by hardcore birdwatchers of which there were a few with massive telescope cameras - I should have asked them for a copy of their photos! 😂

The second island we visited was Île Nue de Mingan that has again several monoliths on the shores of a treeless, sub-artic landscape due to the high winds and drought (despite being in the middle of the sea 🤔). Same as the day before, we were greeted on each island at the dock by a Parks Canada guide who would tell us about the geology, fauna & flora and cultural history, which made it feel very welcoming and unique, especially as we were the only group that day as a result of the rough sea. At the end of the visit, the captain had fished (with a mop that they easily cling to 😁) some sea urchins for us to try, a delicious salty taste like oysters! (My mother would not appreciate 😅)

The way back to shore was tough as we were now going straight into the waves, so I arrived back at the car more wet than dry... luckily I got tons of clothes with me on this trip. 😜

An hour further west I did a pretty hike to two waterfalls on the Manitou river, which were very impressive in terms of the water volume and their surroundings (still the same skeleton boreal forest though 😂). Down & then up again lots of stairs meant my muscles were being worked!

For the rest of the day, it was a long slog of 515km driving in the rain & fog to my next stay... The sea is pretty whether it's sparkling blue on a calm day or like on this stormy day, white-capped crashing onto the shore, so it was beautiful no matter what, but the difficult driving conditions (more poignant when I passed by an overturned truck) made it very tiring. Had a quick dinner at a packed microbrewery at Baie-Comeau, thereby officially completing my Labrador loop which I had started in the same town 12 days earlier 😲🥳, and arrived at 8:30pm at a cute B&B in Portneuf-sur-Mer where the lady of the house made me a cup of tea 😊. Didn't see much attractions on this long day and although I could have taken an extra day over this stretch to visit a few more lighthouses, do coastal hikes etc, at the same time I was getting fed-up with all the bad weather and ready to move inland...

But... my very last day on Canada's eastern seaborne turned out to be beautiful once the fog had lifted during a walk on a sandbar (which was nothing special but feels good to start the day with a small walk 😄). The Haute-Côte-Nord area around the fjord of Saguenay is famous for its thirteen (!) types of whales, and Parks Canada manages two great observation centres; the Marine Environment Discovery Centre where the presentation on anemones & sea stars (touching allowed! 😃) was interrupted when a pod of 7 belugas and also two porpoises cruised by 💖, and the Cap de Bon-Désir, where people simply sit on the rocks while an interpreter answers any questions. Two mink whales were the star attraction coming up again & again in different places, but in any case, if you like me have nothing important to do, there's much worse than just soaking in the sun & staring at the sea! 😊😎

I did pull myself away eventually to drive myself over to Tadoussac, which is undoubtedly a nice village when it's not overrun by tourists, to catch the ferry across the fjord. Grocery shopping at La Malbaie where the high waterlevel in the river from the recent downpours was clearly visible, and then finally made my first dinner over a campfire since I started the trip! Glass of wine and off to bed...

Wildlife: 100's of seals, puffins, razorbills & female eiders, 2 loons and 1 porpoise (West Mingan islands), 7 belugas, 2 porpoises & 1 grey seal (Marine discovery centre), 2 mink whales, 2 porpoises, 2 harbour seals, 1 grey seal & 1 loon (Cap de Bon-Désir)

SUPs: none

Hikes: one at the Manitou waterfalls

Distance driven this week: 968km

[snowgraybeautywhite]

Do you happen to have advice on body blushing?

I’ve done a lot of body blushing but I’ve never made a tutorial or anything! I can work on that for the future, but the short list would be… 1) Disassemble your doll first (I’ve heard of people not doing this  but… seems incomplete to me?) 2) Remove the seam lines first. This isn’t 100% necessary but it produces a cleaner final product. I like to sand with waterproof automotive sandpaper in water, to keep the dust down. Don’t sand far off of where the seam lines are unless you’re de-yellowing. I usually start around 220 grit and end around 600; some people start and end finer (imho going too fine will make your doll shiny and I don’t think resin as a material needs it but ymmv etc). Don’t grind on everything with 220, just the seam itself. 3M sponges are also good and can be used wet. 3) Base coat all pieces with MSC, even the ones you’re not blushing, so any potential yellowing (of doll or coating) is even. 4) Build color slowly with pastels. Grind the pastels on your 600+ grit sandpaper and apply lightly with a brush. Use a puffer (like a camera lens cleaner) to puff off the extra pastel, reapply, etc. Coat with MSC after a layer or two of blush. I only usually do one blush layer, unless the doll has dark resin that is taking more product to color. Freckles I do as a separate layer. 5) Look at some photos of human bodies to see where to color. I tend do do hands with some blue on the fat of the thumb and any sculpted veins, and then a warm color on fingertips, etc. Knees, collarbones, shading on the chest is all also good.

Not really 6 but I suspend my body pieces with twine and q-tips to spray the MSC, so that as little as possible is being blocked from the spray. I might have photos somewhere.

Also definitely pre-#1, get an appropriate respirator for spraying MSC (or your coating of choice), and wear a mask while sanding and blushing as well (your snot turning colors is a bad sign). The sanding/blushing mask doesn’t need to be medical grade, but a baggy blue style surgical mask is… better than nothing but worse than a real particulate mask. I can dig up some references for that later too but there’s a good resource on DoA.

I’ll try to put together something a bit more complete but it may take a while! 😅 Sorry!

[mayhemproduces]

 - AND LA PARKA IS INSIDE THE COFFIN?! WHAT THE HELL?!

Mysteriously, his theme song begins to blast over the speakers, as La Parka exits the coffin, and slams Syn with a steel chair! And a chair shot for Abigail! A chair shot for Julia! And one more for MJF! La Parka holds up the chair before he starts beating Syn with it, bringing the steel down across his back as Syn drops to his knees when Abigail hits La Parka with a big boot! She floors the ancient wrestling god! Abigail stumbles back towards ringside, clearly feeling the effects of those chair shots from La Parka - when Buddy Matthews NAILS her with a step up bicycle knee strike! Buddy comes flying off the steps, and takes down the Matriarch! But it’s not for long. She gets back to her feet and Buddy charges, going for a hurricanrana, but Abigail holds on! She swings him back up and twists him into an electric chair. Before she can do much else, she EATS a knife edge chop from Brody King! The frying pan like chop creates a wicked sound effect that echoes throughout the building. Quite frankly, the top of Abigail’s bat shaped bodysuit does very little in the way of protecting her from a chop of that magnitude, and now Buddy rocks them back, spiking Abigail with a Poison Rana! Abigail takes a vicious chop, AND gets dropped on her head! All the while, La Parka’s theme song is still blaring over our speakers, adding to the hyped atmosphere as it looks like the House of Black is closing in on victory. With Abigail back inside the ring, Matthews throws her up for Dante’s Inferno - but Julia takes Brody out at the knee! The big man drops, and Julia wraps him up in her rear triangle choke, as Abigail clocks Buddy with Psychosis! As the action inside the ring picks up, our cameras find that Syn and Max are getting a beatdown from Malakai and Devitt somewhere deep in the crowd. Two tables have already been set up, and now, they lay Max and Syn across them, before they go looking for something…. When suddenly, the music shuts off! Paul Heyman orders everyone to stay the hell away from it until the end of the match, or it’ll be their jobs! Back at ringside, Julia Hart is sitting down in a steel chair, having been knocked there by Buddy. And now Buddy charges, sending her head over heels with a Meteora, crushing Julia into the chair! We’re back in the crowd once again, as Prince and Malakai have found a twenty-foot tall orange ladder, decorated with spooky black bats, skulls, and pumpkins, and they’ve practically climbed to the top. With a reassuring squeeze of one another’s hands, they take flight, putting Syn and MJF through their respective tables with a double Coup de Grace! The crowd jumps out of their seats, with a thunderous chant of, “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

Back at the ring, we see that there is yet another table being set up at ringside, but Brody isn’t content with just a table, adorned with purple Satanic symbols, and a painted on grey and black Burberry scarf (unless the color is what makes it Burberry? Or is it the pattern?). He looks beneath the ring and pulls out a barbed wire board, that looks to have pieces of candy corn embedded into the barbed wire, and places it on top of the table. He turns around and sees Buddy being locked in the Hail the Reaper inside the ring, but as he goes to help out, Julia pokes out from under the ring, and sprays Brody in the eyes with the fire extinguisher! He’s blinded, but Buddy is able to reverse out of Hail the Reaper, throwing Abigail across the ring. Buddy charges, but he gets PLOWED over by Angel’s Fall! Abigail drops to a knee, blood pouring freely down her head now, and there are literally only two people not bleeding, but everybody is down for the first time since the opening bell. Referees are everywhere, checking on our combatants, when the four left in the ring begin to stir. They crawl toward each other, and start trading punches from their knees. Taking turn hitting their enemies in this two on two, vicious slugfest. They fight up from the ground to their feet, the beauty of MPW’s brand of pro wrestling violence earning a loud cheer from the crowd, but it’s soured as Abigail pulls ahead, battering Brody until he drops to his knees, while Julia has Buddy wrapped up in the Heartless. Abigail gets Brody in the Hail the Reaper, dropping back to the mat and wrapping her legs around him, fully locking it in. Julia wrenches far back on her own submission that she’s practically laying on her back - when from the skies! Malakai and Devitt CRUSH Julia and Abigail, with another pair of Coup de Grace’s! They break up the submissions, and quickly turn their attention to Julia. Devitt pops her up, allowing Malakai to grab her as he drops to his back. Devitt holds his knees up, and Malakai slams Julia down across them with a vicious powerbomb! Cover on Julia!

1… 2… KICKOUT!

Julia survives again and tries to roll out to the apron to find a reprieve, but they stay on her. Leaning over the ropes, they try to suplex her back in, when MJF shoves Devitt back, and punches him square in the temple! Devitt goes down, and now both Julia and Max grab Malakai, hooking him in for a superplex. Brody King comes underneath, scooping Max and Julia up with a powerbomb, as they pull Malakai over the top with a suplex - TOWER OF DOOM THROUGH THE BARBED WIRE BOARD! Holy SHIT! The fans jump out of their feet, as Julia, Max, and Brody King wind up trapped in the candy corn barbed wire! All of them are down, and it’s Devitt, trapped alone in the ring with your MPW Tag Team Champions, as Syn slides into the ring, and DOMES Devitt with a chair! He slumps, dropping to his knees, and they each grab a wrist, before finishing him off with Beyond the Black Wall! That’s it! That’s the end of the House of Black’s journey, as The Fallen finally score another win over their rivals!

1… 2… - KICKOUT!

DEVITT SURVIVES!

An explosion of excitement overtakes the crowd as they feverishly cheer for Devitt, and The Fallen are pissed. Abigail straddles Devitt, raining down vicious forearms to the head. She rolls off and allows Syn to pick him up, holding him back by the arms as Abigail tees off on him - when Devitt breaks free! Forearm for Abigail! Forearm for Syn! Devitt twists to and fro, knocking them both back, until he has enough space to plant Abigail with a slingblade! He charges Syn, ducking under the Big Rig Lariat - AND SYN EATS THE END! Malakai pops up out of nowhere, and shuts off Syn’s lights! There’s nobody home in the eyes of the Poisoned Prince, and he rolls out of the ring, leaving Abigail as the last one standing. She tries to charge them, but Malakai nails her with The End as well! Abigail’s head whips to the side, and she’s out on her feet! Brody King scoops her up, and spikes her with the Gonzo Bomb! Malakai pulls her into position as Devitt finds purchase on the top rope. He takes flight, finishing her off with the Coup De Grace, and Malakai sits down at the same moment, Brody King taking watch as Devitt folds her up!

1… 2… 3!

“Here are your winners, Buddy Matthews, Brody King, Prince Devitt, and Malakai Black, the House of Black!”

Prince Devitt scores another pinball over Sister Abigail, for the second week in a row, as the House continue their impressive winning streak over The Fallen. Abigail is left lying in a broken heap in the middle of the ring, Julia still trapped in the barbed wire, unconscious, as MJF is feebly trying to drag Syn up the rampway. The House of Black’s hands are raised in victory, capping off a particularly spooky October night filled with fun hijinks, ancient wrestling deities, and enough blood to fill up the local hospital for the next year. But that’s all for tonight, folks! We’ll see you next week for the final stop on the road to Hell on Earth!

[verydesperatehousewife]

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[booticro]

Cu ajutorul spray-ului odorizant cu iasomie vei umple aerul din casa ta cu o aroma suava care sa te relaxeze si care sa te faca sa uiti de grijile cotidiene.

[vishnuveera]

Madagascar Magnificence Navigating the Optimal Time for Your Journey

Madagascar is a country with diverse climates and geographical features, making it a fascinating destination to explore. When planning your trip, it's essential to consider the best time to visit to make the most of your adventure. Here are some planning tips for visiting Madagascar, focusing on the best time to go.

The dry season, particularly from May to October, is considered the best time to visit Madagascar. During these months, the weather is cooler and more pleasant, making it ideal for outdoor activities and wildlife spotting. The roads are also more accessible, and the risk of tropical cyclones is significantly lower.

The peak tourist season in Madagascar is from June to September and around Christmas. These months offer the best weather conditions, and the tourist infrastructure is better prepared to accommodate visitors. However, it's worth noting that prices may be higher during this period, and popular attractions may be more crowded.

If you plan to visit Tsingy De Bemaraha National Park, be aware that the road is only driveable between April and November, and Grand Tsingy (the main event) is only open from June to the beginning of November. It's recommended to visit no later than late October to avoid road closures and ensure access to the park's main attractions.

The rainy season in Madagascar (November – April) can bring tropical cyclones, especially in the east. The main cyclone season is February & March, and road conditions can deteriorate, making travel more challenging. Some attractions may also be inaccessible during this time.

Madagascar operates on a slower pace, known as 'mora mora' (said 'mura mura'), which means 'slowly', 'take it easy', or just 'less'. Embracing this concept will help you enjoy your trip and adapt to any unexpected changes in plans or delays.

Pack comfortable and breathable clothing for Madagascar, with women dressing relatively modestly. Don't forget to check the temperature and likelihood of rain in the season/places you are travelling. Sunscreen, bug spray, and a good camera with a long zoom are also essential for wildlife hikes.

By considering these planning tips, you can ensure a safe, enjoyable, and well-informed trip to Madagascar.

[msockriter]

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[staarnews]

The Very Messy Story of a Celebrity Nightclub Gone Wrong

War has broken out in London’s clubland with swastika graffiti, claims of death threats and “mercenaries” fighting for control of a legendary nightspot.

Since it reopened in 2012, The Scotch of St. James has become a haunt for A-listers and aristocrats including Rihanna, Harry Styles and Prince William, hosting private parties for fashion brands and album launches.

Back in its heyday in the 60s, it was famed for attracting rock-and-roll royalty – including Keith Moon and Jimi Hendrix – as well as drug-fuelled punch-ups. But today, it's the owners not the celebrity patrons who are fighting.

The recent hostilities have spilled out of the courtroom and into the streets, leading one of the club’s partners, Tim Lalic, to flee abroad in apparent fear for his life and the other to hire bodyguards.

Before Lalic, 37, abandoned his Hampstead home, he sent the Metropolitan Police a lengthy dossier claiming that his millionaire business partner, Vahram Papazyan, was using thugs to intimidate and blackmail him into handing over the club.

CCTV footage attached to Lalic’s police complaint shows semi-hooded men delivering legal letters on one day and on another, spraying a swastika on his parents’ front door.

Lalic, who is originally from Croatia and now has a British passport, also claims a swastika and the word “PEADO” [sic] were daubed in the same yellow paint on either side of his black Range Rover.

Papazyan, 34, told World News that Lalic’s accusations were “completely false”, and that he was not behind any of these threats. He said that his family’s company in the United Arab Emirates is owed £3.6 million from bankrolling his push to be a behind-the-scenes club owner, with Lalic as the day-to-day manager. But Lalic, who he described as his best friend, had “fraudulently” taken control of The Scotch.

During the period just before Christmas, when the COVID lockdown in England was briefly lifted, Papazyan arrived with heavies at the entrance to the club in Mason’s Yard, a cobbled cul-de-sac behind Fortnum and Mason in Piccadilly, central London.

Doormen at The Scotch refused him entry, which led to a tense stand-off in front of regular guests. Pulling heavily on his cigarette, a “fuming” Papazyan leaned towards a doorman and outlined what sounded like a plan to storm the door and take over the club if Lalic, who was inside, didn’t cede control.

The exchange, recorded on the bouncer’s body-worn camera, captures Papazyan saying he'd hired “mercenaries [on] 10K per day.”

Door storming is a tactic rival security companies use to take the contract from a sitting company by showing up their weakness. Alternatively, a rival club owner can send in thugs to provoke violence in the hope that the club’s licence will be revoked. Door storming to take outright control of a club is rare.

“I had security with me because I was worried about what was going to happen when I got inside. They were paid. I was trying to as much as possible create a storm outside.

He was eventually allowed in on his own to talk to Lalic. The sit-down was heated. “I told him I was very upset and would see it through to the end,” Papazyan said.

The Scotch of St. James opened its doors on the 14th of July 1965 with a launch attended by both the Beatles and Rolling Stones, and many other celebrity guests. Unlike many of its rock patrons, The Scotch survived the 70s but was in terminal decline as tastes changed in the 80s, when it became an upmarket strip club.

It could have remained another dance floor death in clubland had two best friends, who met at Oxford Brookes University, not decided to make a move on London in 2011.

At the time, Lalic was running Papazyan’s martial arts-gym business in Oxford. Keen to move into the world of posh London clubs and bars, the pair were introduced to Freddie Achom, who ran the successful Mayfair nightclub Jalouse – formerly the Hanover Grand. Alongside his A-list contacts, Achom had a fraud conviction for a wine scam that cost him a year in prison.

Papazyan and Lalic formed an uneasy alliance with Achom and in October 2011, they took over The Scotch lease for £275,000. The trio knew nothing about the venue’s seminal place in 60s London. But when Achom learned of the history, he suggested resurrecting The Scotch brand to “bring back some old names too."

After a £300,000 refurbishment, the club re-opened on the 19th of January 2012. Achom effectively ran it with his team from Jalouse. A new rock royalty flocked to The Scotch, along with Prince William and Kate Middleton. Stella McCartney had a private party there, and soon Lalic and Papazyan found that their own guests were being turned away from the nightspot they owned, according to a source.

In September 2012, the pair took back control and barred Achom from The Scotch. But he sued and won a payout two years later.

Having lost their celebrity pied piper, Papazyan and Lalic went into partnership with Carl Hirschmann, a 32-year-old Swiss millionaire. Hirschmann was heir to the Jet Aviation fortune and already had quite a reputation on the international party circuit. He was linked to a former Miss Switzerland, hotel heiress Paris Hilton and model Noemie Lenoir.

Hirschmann also owned Le Baron, an exclusive Zurich nightclub for the Swiss elite, but wanted to move away from that scene when Papazyan and Lalic approached him through a mutual friend.

“They needed cash, basically. I said I don’t want anything to do with nightclubs but if I can come in and out of that little spot and have a place where I’m known and I don’t have to worry about the door – that’s how I came to be involved indirectly,” Hirschmann, speaking in 2016, said. According to court documents, he put £650,000 into The Scotch through his Malta-based company Heaven Holdings Limited.

The Swiss playboy saw The Scotch as a “little speakeasy” where he could entertain close friends and relax in “a civilised environment where you don’t have little kids spraying Champagne around and jumping to bad music.”

However, in May 2016, Hirschmann was arrested for assaulting a Scotch punter who was hospitalised with a cut to the head from a flying glass. He emailed his victim begging him not to “destroy” his life by pressing charges. But a trial went ahead and Hirschmann pleaded guilty to the assault.

At the time of the assault, Hirschmann had only recently left prison for having a 15-year-old girl perform oral sex on him in the toilet of his Swiss nightclub. He claimed lies were told about her age and he was targeted because of his fame and fortune, but pleaded guilty and served one year in open prison conditions where he was allowed out during the day.

Papazyan and Lalic bought out Hirschmann in 2017. Documents show he was paid £520,000. But Papazyan claims his family personally paid another £400,000 to seal the deal.

At around the same time, HM Revenue and Customs began a criminal investigation into The Scotch and other venues owned by Papazyan and Lalic, including the Match Bar and B Soho. The taxman eventually agreed on a £1.2 million payment to settle the case.

Steven Miley