#Strippers In Colorado

[phoward89]

Happy (late) 420! I tried to get this out yesterday, but that didn't happen. Anyways, here's some Dealer!Coryo x Reader in honor of 420.

Weed, drugs, guns, cussing, Coriolanus Snow being Coriolanus Snow, p in v, slight degradation?, um that's bout it

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1:

“Your brother's drunk again?” Coryo, your weed dealer and fuck buddy, asked as he flung the door to his section 8 apartment open as soon as he saw you thru the peephole. 

He knew what was wrong with you just by the sullen look on your face. Anytime you had that look on your face it was because your brother was either drunk and fighting with you or your ex (who Coryo nearly beat to death after the last time he cheated on you- which if you ask the dealer shouldn't have happened cause only a fucking idiot would stick their cock in a skeezy cunt when they've got your perfect, tight cunt to fuck on the regular) did something (like cheat) to upset you. 

After getting beat within an inch of his life, your ex skipped town. Rumor has it that he went to California. So, Coriolanus knows that there's only one reason you're on his doorstep looking like an anxious mess: your brother, Rein.

“Yep.” You popped your tongue.

“Come in.” Coriolanus ordered, moving aside to make room for you to enter his shithole. As you walked by him and into the apartment that smells heavily of cigarettes, weed, incense, and rose scented glade plug-ins, your favorite drug dealer announced with a lopsided smirk, “I was just ‘bout to roll a joint.”, while shutting and bolting the door.

“It's been a while since I smoked. I could use a few hits to calm down.” You admitted, making a beeline to the lumpy couch and in extension the glass coffee table nestled right in front of it.

A glass coffee table with chipped corners that was cluttered so much that the glass could barely be seen. It was a cluttered mess of magazines, rolling papers, plastic sandwich baggies, large bags of weed, a scale, a few empty beer bottles, an empty chip bag, a red solo cup, zippo, and a cheap ashtray.

Sometimes you wonder about Coryo, who could be a dead ringer for Eminem. Hell, his looks got him the nickname of Paneminem. You know, cause he's the Slim Shady of your small bumfuck Colorado town of Panem. 

A town that both you and Coriolanus Snow, known to a very small select few as Coryo, hate with a passion. 

But, anyways, sometimes you wonder about the dealer with the platinum buzzcut (which you were shocked to find out was his natural hair color) that lives alone. He doesn't have a lot of friends and the only family he's got is a cousin, Tigris, that's a stripper at Pluribus’ club. But they had some kind of falling out after he got a dishonorable discharge from the army and barely talk anymore.

And you only know about Tigris and his brief stint in the military cause you curiously asked him about his dog tags, chewing on the corner of them during a half-high afterglow while cuddling with him.

“What dumb shit did Rein do this time, baby girl?” The hardened drug dealer asked, following you over to the sofa. A sofa that has a board under it to level and prop up the saggy seat cushions.

“He’s pissed that I got laid off and can't find another job.” You told Coryo as the two of you sat down on the couch, making it dip under your combined weight.

“So, does that mean you're gonna start helping your favorite dealer sling shit for cash?” Coriolanus slightly chuckled, slipping his hand underneath the hem of his oversized white T-shirt and pulling his gun out of the waistband of his baggy jeans; placing it down on the coffee table.

You've seen the black Glock so many times, gosh it must be at least 50 by now, since you started buying weed and hooking up with Coryo. Him handling the weapon around you doesn't even phase you anymore. It should. It really should, especially since you weren't raised around guns or violence- but apparently the more time you spend around Snow (Coryo's surname and one of his street names- the other being Snowball) the more you're being corrupted by him.

Unknown to you, Coryo doesn't want you to become corrupted by him. He thinks you're a really sweet girl that had some shit luck of being abandoned by your mom and raised hovering above the poverty line by your much older half-brother and his girlfriend. Despite your crappy conditions, you’re as sweet as honey. Or at least to Coriolanus you are.

For some reason, the hardened drug dealer that's a couple of years older than you wants to keep you safe from any and all dangers in the world. Hell, Snow's not supposed to have feelings for you, a girl that occasionally buys weed from him; comes over to his place to vent about her life, but he does.

And that's not good because feelings are dangerous in his world. The drug underworld. The side of town, hell life, that decent people don't see. 

Coryo's got people that would love to put a bullet in him; the cops also want to lock him up for at least half his life too. Having you around him so much, getting wrapped up in shit isn't good at all. It's not good for you or for him. It'll only end up bad and in heartbreak.

And Snow can't have that. Oh, he has to protect you from his world. The world of drugs and all other illicit activities that transpire in the criminal underworld. You're just too sweet to have as a permanent fixture in his life, which is why he doesn't hang with you unless you're buying weed from him. He won't actively seek you out, despite the fact that you always bring a smile to face and warm his cold, black, dead, frostbitten heart.

“Coryo, you're my only dealer.” You dryly remind him, watching as he perches on the edge of his couch; leaning forward to grab the items he needs from his chipped coffee table to roll the joint with. “And no, I'm not gonna help you deal.”

“Only dealer, favorite dealer: same thing from how I look at it.” Coriolanus retorts while his long fingers nimbly work to fill and roll a joint for the two of you to share. “It was a joke, baby. I wasn't serious.” Your dealer dryly told you before giving out a lecture of, “My line of work’s dangerous, babe. I'd never send you out into that shit just to make a buck.” Waggling a long weed scented finger in your face, he added in, “And I would've fucked some goddamn sense into you if you’d agreed to my fake offer.”

You’re not stupid, you know that Coryo’s not just a weed dealer, but that he sells some hard shit and it makes his job- hell his life- dangerous. But you don't care. You accept him as he is. You're not trying to fix him; you're fine with him the way he is. You're also fine with being his customer/sorta friends with benefits.

You know that Coryo has a lockbox full of various pills and coke that he deals. The box is shoved in the side table, that looks like a weird ass octagon, caddy cornered between his sofa and a heavily duct taped easy chair. You saw it once when you were over, crying about being cheated on by your ex and needing some weed (and maybe some big dick) pronto to make you feel better and calm you down. 

Coryo had a customer he needed to meet and sell some powder to, so he prepared the crap right in front of you. After cutting the white powder finely with a credit card (that you're sure he stole from somebody) and portioning it up in a baggie, he made you swear to never touch the hard shit. He even said that he'd shoot whoever dares to give you the shit right between the eyes if he ever found out that you dabbled in the hard shit.

And then he sent you on your way with a few joints and a promise that he'd stop by to check up on you; see if you need anymore post getting cheated on weed to help feel better with. He kept good on that promise, he stopped by and took you out for a ride. A ride that ended with you desperately riding his cock in the backseat of his car- which was parked in some alleyway in a seedy part of town.

“Calm down, Coryo. God, don’t pop a vein over there.” You sarcastically tell the platinum blonde while he finishes rolling the joint. Watching him pick up his zippo off the table, you assure him.“You don't need to worry about me being in danger from the big bag drug dealers; I'll only make my money legally.”

“Y/N…” Snow mumbled warningly, slipping the joint between his lush lips and lighting up. Taking his first hit, he sighs, “The more you hang ‘round here, baby girl, the more you might be putting your sweet lil ass in danger.” 

“I’m a big girl, Snowball. I can take care of myself, plus I trust you and know that you'd never hurt me.” You said, watching him take his second hit. 

Passing the joint over to you, he dead ass says, “I got enemies; if they think we're a thing they'll fuck you up to get to me.” Shaking his head, he leans his elbows on his knees (of course he was manspreading- he always does when sitting on the sofa). “Cops would haul you in; jam you up just to try and catch my ass.”

Your brows furrow at his words. At their implications.

“So, what, you don't want me coming ‘round anymore?” You asked, brushing your fingertips against his rough, calloused ones as you took the joint from him. “Want me to find somebody new to buy weed from?” You took your first hit, coughing slightly. “Maybe I'll drive a couple hours to Denver and buy from a regulated dealer: from the man.” You threatened, taking your second hit and passing the joint to the broad shouldered man next to you.

“You're not driving down there for weed. You hear me?” Coryo sternly ordered before taking a deep hit off the joint.

“Then don't say you don't want me around, Coryo.” You countered, watching your dealer sexily blow a large billowing cloud of smoke from his perfect O shaped mouth.

“I didn't say that, babe.” Coryo snapped, his voice a bit hoarse from smoking weed all day (or at least you think he's been smoking all day). “I don't wanna have a heavy talk while smoking. Let's table this for now, yea?” He told you before taking a second, even longer hit from the joint perfectly pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yea, my life's stressful enough.” You agreed, taking the offered joint from Coriolanus as soon as he exhaled a lungful of smoke.

Coryo didn't say a word, just leaned back into his couch and snaked an arm to rest behind you. He gave you a lazy thin lipped smile as you took your hit. His icy eyes, usually void of emotions, were shinning with fondness as he watched you instead of whatever bullshit was on his tv. 

A very nice large flatscreen that somebody gave him for payment. Fuck, the damn thing was worth nearly a grand since it was some top of the line Samsung smart tv. Snow knew it must've fallen out the back of a truck, but he didn't give a shit. Meant he didn't have to use he crappy tablet to watch stuff anymore.

But instead of watching tv, his attention was on you. God, Coriolanus loves watching you smoke. He thinks you're so sexy when you smoke. This cute, lil sweetheart taking in a large burning lungful and letting it waft out of your mouth expertly. 

It turned him on.

“It's not polite to stare, Coryo.” You remind the menacing man next to you, your tone a bit teasing, while passing him the joint after finishing your hits.

“I'm not staring, so don't know what your talking about.” He firmly denied, acting like he wasn't just caught ogling your gloss coated lips, while taking the joint.

You're starting to feel a bit hazy from the weed, unlike Coryo you don't smoke around the clock so a few hits mellows you out quickly, and lean your head against his shoulder.

“Your such a fucking lightweight.” The platinum blonde chuckles, shaking his head with a hint of an taunting smirk on his lips. 

“Not everyone can smoke and fuck all day, Snowball.”

“I don't smoke and fuck all day. I'll let you know that if I don't sling my shit then I ain't making any bank.” Coryo sneered, sounding a bit insulted by your remark, before taking a quick hit and holding the joint out to you.

Your fingertips brush over his, sending shockwaves through both of your buzzed bodies, as you take his offering. “You know, I'm still having a dry spell.” You reluctantly sigh between taking your two puffs and passing him back the joint.

Coryo's not stupid, he knows why you've been having problems finding somebody to hookup with let alone date. Word on the street is that he's sweet on you. That you’re Snowball's baby. Or at least Plinth and Creed, his only friends that are also dealers, told him that's the word.

Been the word since somebody saw you and him at some house party few weeks back- disappearing into a bathroom together for a good 15 minutes or so (yea, long enough to fuck).

“Maybe I can do something ‘bout it then, yea?”

“Maybe.” You coyly shrugged.

Even tho both you and Coryo knew that as soon as the joint turned into a roach; was snubbed into the ash trash, you'd be making out and undressing each other on his sofa.

“Hmmm…Coryo, that feels so good…” You loudly moan, feeling your cunt twitch and grow wetter, as you ride Coryo's cock.

Coryo's sucking on one of your titties while roughly squeezing the other in his large, calloused hand. His other hand is holding onto your ass like it's the most prized jewel into the entire world. 

“God, Coryo, I needed your cock so bad.” You admit to him, your voice nothing more than a pathetic mewl, as your wrap your arms around his neck- one hand pressing into the back of his platinum buzzcut while the other holds the back of his neck- while you leverage yourself to bounce faster on his dick.

His cock, very long and thick with veins that catch every velvety piece of your walls, fills your cunt up perfectly; turns you into a whinny mess. His tip hits against your cervix, causing the coil to begin to tighten inside of your lower body with every move. And the way his cock presses into your g-spot just right- oh fuck he's completely ruined you for men.

Whether you want to admit it or not, you're addicted to Coryo's cock. He's the only man that can fuck you just right. God, you would be all hot and bothered over your dealer.

Your nipple falls from Coryo's mouth with a loud, wet pop. He looks up at you, baby blues smoldering midnight with lust, and slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby. Ride my cock, ride my cock like the lil slut you are.” His hand slides over your chest, leaving one tit and going to kneed the other, as he lands two quick slaps to your ass. “Baby, your cunt feels so tight and good. Ride me, baby, ride me.”

“Fuck…Coryo…think I'm gonna cum.” You breathing tell him, forehead pressing down against his; hair curtains around your faces, as you grind your hips faster against his.

“Yea?” He asks, his voice heavy from lust and hoarse from smoking weed, as he places his hands on either of your hips. “Hold on, baby. I'll make ya cum.” Coryo tilts his chin up, sloppily kissing you, before digging his fingers into the meat of your hips and thrusting fast and hard up into you.

“Fuck!” You scream, feeling your insides literally getting rearranged, as Coriolanus’ cock plunges deep inside of you. Deeper then you’ve ever felt it before (and that's saying something since the man’s cock always leaves an imprint in your lower stomach everytime you fuck) and it's making you see stars. 

Your arms are tightly wrapped around Coryo's neck in a vice grip as he pounds up into your cunt at such a strong, punishing pace. He's fucking you so hard and good that you can feel the rubber band inside of you get ready to snap. “Coryo…I'm gonna cum.” 

“Cum, baby. Be my good lil slut and cum on my cock.” Coryo orders, his baritone rough and raw, as he presses you against his chest while bucking his hips at lightning speed.

And you do. You cum hard, moaning a string of curses mixed with Coryo's name, before leaning limply against him and panting to catch your breath. Your head's pressed into the crook of his neck and he's now holding holding your back to keep you afloat while chasing his own high. Coryo pistons his cock in and out of you quickly before groaning a couple fucks and your name while shooting his hot load of thick pearly ropes of cum deep into your cunt.

“Damn…” Coryo trailed off, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Your head's still resting in the crook of his neck as you unwrap one of your arms from around his neck. Running your hand up and down his toned chest, you blurt out, “I'm hungry.”

“Of course, you get the munchies now.” Coryo scoffs, shaking his head. “I got some pizza rolls in the freezer, I'll nuke us some in a lil bit. Okay, babe?” He offered while trying to enjoy his blazed out afterglow moment with you. 

Honestly, he just wanted you to cockwarm him for a while because he didn't know when you'd be in that position again. 

And Coryo knows that he's going to have to cut you loose eventually. You're a liability in his line of work. Snow, the cold hearted drug dealer that doesn't think twice about popping a cap in somebody's ass, has a soft spot for you. Hell, to be honest he cares for you.

He cares a lot.

And that's dangerous. Feelings are a weakness that he can't afford in his life. The thought of you being used against him makes him sick.

And Coriolanus will never forgive himself if something bad happened to you because of him.

He knows that he'll have to cut you loose soon. Put his combat boot covered foot down; lay down some rules for the two of you to abide by. Something like he'll drop your weed off at your house then leave type of deal.

But right now, for a few minutes, he just wants to bask in your warmth.

And for right now, you're Snowball's baby.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[wowbright]

Chapter 13: Feeling

Figureskating!Blaine/designer!Kurt Olympics AU for december klaine fanworks challenge. Also on AO3.

They didn’t end up at Garden of the Gods after their high tea. They toured the rest of Miramont Castle, Kurt expressing simultaneous delight and horror the building’s eclectic mishmash of Queen Anne, Romanesque, English Tudor, Venetian Gothic, Byzantine, and half a dozen other architectural styles. “I can't figure out any rhyme or reason to it. He just threw in whatever he liked with no regard for aesthetic unity. It's hideous. I love it! I mean, I could never live here. It's an architectural identity crisis. Two completely different styles of window in a single stairwell? It would kill me. But the audacity! The chutzpah! I hate his vision, but at least he had one.”

Just listening to Kurt made joy bubble up inside Blaine. Kurt was a delight. A force of nature. Blaine imagined how much more entertaining his visits to Turino and Vancouver, Tokyo and Sapporo and Nagano, Paris and Goyang and Gothenburg would have been with Kurt in tow, providing color commentary on all the sights and sounds and smells of each city, relishing even in the things that repelled him because their newness was enough to cause delight. He wished Kurt was going with him to Sochi. It was beautiful and strange and tacky and sad and utterly fascinating. Kurt would be so alive in it.

Almost a week later, they finally made it to Garden of the Gods. It had been a long week, the excitement of the looming games overshadowed too often by dull meetings, bickering between Sue and Sebastian, and that annoying young punk Sam Evans, who refused to let Blaine forget he had been named to the first spot, while Blaine only made it on the roster this Olympics because the third choice’s hip injury flared up after the nationals championships. Blaine tried to act like the adult he was and overlook the “gramps” and the “old man” and “Jar Jar” (because the first thing he’d said to Blaine upon arriving in Colorado Springs was “You’re kind of like Jar Jar Binks, though, aren’t you? Because nobody actually wanted you in the sequel.”) He kept telling himself that Sam was a kid who was clearly overcompensating for his insecurities about launching his senior career with the eyes of the entire world on him. Blaine had been sixteen once, and just as insecure.

On the other hand, Blaine hadn’t been an asshole. And he had never, ever thought it would be a good idea to waggle his hips on the ice like a second-rate nightclub stripper to a weird, saxophone-heavy instrumental mashup of Justin Bieber's greatest hits. When Blaine had politely suggested Sam tone down on the thrusting, the kid had come back with, “You’re not my coach, gramps. Sex sells. You’re just jealous because you’re an old geezer whose lost all his testosterone and his sex appeal.”

The kid was horned up and classless and, worst of all, rude. How was he competing for a spot in the team event with this brat?

But no. Blaine was not going to think about that. It was a perfect, sunny day, the light of the winter sun sloping through the red rock formations at low angles that painted crisp shadows against the snow.

Even better, he was here with Kurt Hummel: beautiful, delightful, amazing Kurt. They hadn't gotten nearly enough time together since the high tea—which means they saw each other every day but not all day, Blaine visiting the costume studio even when it wasn't strictly necessary, and Kurt hanging out at practices even when he might have been exploring the tourist spots, and eating meals together when they could (but very often not alone, thanks Sue and Sebastian and the entire U.S. figure skating team), and Blaine even inviting Kurt back to his apartment only to find that Mike and Kitty had formed an encampment in front of the television for a marathon session of watching the routines of every single competing pair they would face in Sochi. So he and Kurt had joined them instead of enjoying a quiet dinner like Blaine had planned and maybe, if Blaine was allowed to dream, enjoying each other in a different way that Blaine had to stop himself from imagining every time Kurt helped him remove the latest iteration of his costume.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Kurt said as they made their way down the trail between two towering pillars of vividly striped rock. “I never would have thought to come on my own.”

“No?”

Kurt shrugged. “City boy. I forget it can be nice to be out in nature. I mean, I could do without feeling like my nose is about to fall off my face, but it really is pretty. And quiet. And …” he sighed contentedly.

“Here. I wouldn't want your nose to disappear.” Blaine tugged his scarf from his neck and draped it around Kurt’s, folding it gently to form a pocket of warm air over Kurt’s lower face. It felt both bold and easy—easy because they had stood this close many times as Kurt measured Blaine’s body or draped fabric over it or adjusted this and that bit of his costume, so that sharing such a close space had become second nature; bold because it was now Blaine doing the reaching out and touching.

“Usually, I would complain about this not coordinating with my carefully curated ensemble. But it's Burberry. And cashmere. So I’ll make an exception.” Kurt's eyes danced above the fabric, a dazzling contrast of blue and green above the pale yellows and grays of the checked scarf. “But what about your nose?”

In answer, Blaine reached into his collar and pulled the fabric of this turtleneck up over his chin. It was long enough that he could cover his whole face with it if he wanted to. He had, in fact, chosen it in the very hope that he might lose his scarf to Kurt. “I came prepared for every possibility.”

Kurt smiled. Blaine couldn't see his mouth of course, but he could see his eyes and the way they narrowed as Kurt’s cheekbones lifted, the skin on the outer edges crinkling into deep, happy furrows.

“You’re …” Blaine started to say, but the words caught in his throat. That’s how beautiful Kurt was. It made Blaine forget how to speak.

“I’m …?” Kurt said—curiously, not flirtatiously. He clearly had no idea what was going on inside Blaine at this moment.

Blaine shook his head to loosen his tongue. It only half worked. He couldn't get the words I out that he’d meant to. But the ones he spoke were perhaps even more inspired. “I want you in Sochi with me.”

Kurt stopped in his tracks.

“I mean, if you're free. If you want to. If you—” Was this another case of Blaine diving into concrete? It had really looked like water to him. “I fully trust you can get everything done before we go, but I think … I think I would feel better having you there. You're the only one who—”

“—knows the costumes well enough to fix them if you need any last-minute repairs?”

That was not what Blaine had been trying to say, but it was true. “Yes. And you understand my vision. Besides … seeing you at Miramont Castle, I couldn't help but think how much you would enjoy yourself there.”

Kurt’s eyes went wide. “You’ve been there before? And it’s transcendently tacky?”

“Only parts of it,” Blaine chuckled. “It’s mostly because you appreciate things that are … different, or— I don’t know. You just appreciate things in a way I’ve never seen anyone do before. And I … I just thought, we really should have you there anyway, because what if something changes? What if I hear something or feel something new and I have a sudden fit of artistic inspiration and you’re not there to help me bring it to life? And then I go do my programs and yes, of course the costumes are beautiful, because you made them, and they say most of the things I wanted to say, but there’s something else and … ” Blaine looked down at the dirt peeking through the tracks in the snow. He was so frustrated with himself. He wasn’t making himself clear at all. He probably sounded crazy. A needy prima donna demanding too much. “We’ll pay you, of course. And flights and lodgings and meals. An interpreter if you want. I know it must be an incredible inconvenience. But you’re so inspiring and …”

Blaine looked up. And Kurt was there, looking back at him. Blaine saw the answer in his eyes. Kurt was right there with him. He didn't think Blaine was crazy at all. “I'd love to go,” Kurt said quietly, his voice gentle and reassuring like the waves lapping up on Cabrillo Beach at low tide. He tugged Blaine’s arm, and pulled him forward, and Blaine’s heart started to pound out of his chest because he wanted to kiss Kurt so badly but also maybe he should have had a Tic Tac first and also would Kurt think that his bubble gum-flavored chapstick was gross and also there was a group of gruff evangelical conservatives just 50 yards ahead, and the one who looked like he was in the military was loudly explaining how the sedimentary lines were all formed in the great flood of Genesis 6 through 9 and—

It turned out Kurt’s face was not the destination he had intended for Blaine. Because Kurt stepped forward too, or backward—well, in the same direction Blaine was moving, so that they stayed the same distance apart—and Blaine realized that they were not kissing in the brilliant winter sun of the Garden of the Gods. They were walking again.

“So,” Kurt said. “How many times have you been to Sochi?”

It took a moment for Blaine to regain his bearings. He had to replay the question twice in his brain in order to understand it. “I've been to the Russia lots. But Sochi only once. The Grand Prix was held there last season.”

“Ah,” Kurt said with a tone of—disappointment? Not in Blaine, but like he had made some sort of faux pas. “I should probably know that.”

Oh. Blaine didn’t like the expression on Kurt’s face. It was almost sad. He never wanted Kurt to be sad. He stepped a little closer to Kurt, let their shoulders brush. “I kind of like that you don’t.”

Kurt still looked kind of sad. But also curious. “Is it hard?”

“What?”

“People knowing so much about you before you’ve even met them.”

It was and it wasn't. Blaine had spent so much of his life in the limelight that he had become used to it. And it wasn't like he was Brad Pitt or Obama or the Pope. He didn't get recognized by every single person every single place he went. The times when it was hard was when people thought they already knew him—when they filtered everything he said and did through the picture of him they had already built in their minds based on public appearances and TV broadcasts and news clippings—when nothing he said or did could surprise them, because they had already decided not to be surprised.

“Nobody knows who I am before I've met them,” Blaine said. “Sometimes they don't even know after they've met me.”

Kurt was silent. Blaine listened to the sound of their shoes crunching against the snow.

“I hope I don't make you feel like that,” Kurt said.

Blaine’s campaign to cheer Kurt up was totally failing. He could do better. “You don't make me feel like that at all, Kurt. You make me feel like … Talking to you, it feels like … like I’m new. To you. And to me, too. And you’re new, and fascinating, and … it’s like I'm discovering a part of the world that was always there but I never knew existed. Even myself, when we talk, when you ask me questions and you listen—you really listen, Kurt, you make me feel like the things I say are actually interesting and surprising and even delightful—it’s like I'm remembering things I forgot about myself or never even knew.”

Blaine looked at Kurt, and for the first time since he had draped Kurt in his scarf, he wished he could see more of Kurt’s face. There was something in Kurt’s eyes that Blaine felt like he would be just on the edge of understanding, if only he could see more.

“You are interesting and surprising and delightful,” Kurt said solemnly. “And you make me feel that way too.” He glanced over his shoulder before giving Blaine’s hand a quick squeeze, then let go. In a low whisper, he added, “I want it to be out in the open, though. I might not have been a super fan who tracked your every media mention in elaborately decorated scrapbooks and curated Delicio.us lists. But I did have some preconceived notions about you.”

A tiny flutter like panic quickened in Blaine’s chest. What if they were bad? No, he was being stupid. He knew it was stupid. Kurt's tone was soft, silky, alluring. That wasn't the voice of someone who was about to say something mean to you. And even if Kurt used to think bad things about him, it shouldn't matter, because Kurt certainly seemed to like him okay now. But still— Blaine made a quick verbal counter turn. “Well, I had some ideas about you, too.”

“You didn't know who I was.”

“Not for as long as you knew about me, but I saw your portfolio, and it spoke to me. And Sebastian told me some things.”

“Oh, Christ on a cracker. That couldn't have been good.”

“Quite the opposite. He told me you were dedicated and hardworking and witty, and that you always stuck to your principles, and that I should trust you, because he trusted you, and he does not trust very many people.”

“Really? Sebastian said all that?”

“Really. It was so glowing that—” Despite the cold, Blaine felt heat rising to his cheeks. “I asked him if he had feelings for you.”

The scarf loosened around Kurt’s face as he wrinkled up his nose. “Oh. God, no. It's never been like that with us.”

“That's what he told me. I believe the exact words were something like ‘Don't get me wrong, I would totally bang him if he would just uncross his legs for two seconds and let me, but the difference between you and me, Blaine, is that I know the difference between romance and sex.’”

“Sounds like Sebastian,” Kurt said. Well, at least the Sebastian he had known all his life until the previous Sunday morning. Apparently for the new Sebastian, romance and sex were starting to overlap, at least a tiny bit. “And I'm sorry he told you so many lies about me.”

“You know they aren’t, Kurt. You're all that, and then some.”

“Well, then.” Kurt looked away, his eyes batting like Bambi’s. He was so adorable when he was flummoxed. “You subject me to all that overwhelming flattery, but you won’t let me tell you my preformed impressions of you?”

Ah. So Kurt had noticed the counter turn. Apparently he was getting to know Blaine even better than Blaine had thought. Blaine momentarily closed his eyes against the bright sun and took a deep breath. “Okay, fine. Hit me with your worst.”

“Well, you're a wonderful skater, obviously. I mean, I know that can’t mean anything to you coming from me, I don't have the expertise to judge but ... I always feel something when I watch you skate. Figure skating doesn't always feel like art to me—maybe that's why I've focused more on costuming for ice dance until now—but it does, when I watch you. You have all this ... generosity and passion inside of you, and it spills out onto the ice. It's mesmerizing. And not just because you're incredibly good-looking.”

Blaine made a sharp inhale. “You think I'm good-looking?” He was not being coy. He was, on some level, honestly surprised. Even though they’d been flirting, even though he knew Kurt felt something about him on some level because he’d pretty much said so not three minutes ago, it felt revelatory. To have the words spoken—that made it real. Kurt Hummel, the most beautiful man the world had ever seen, thought Blaine Anderson was visually appealing.

Kurt laughed. “Well, yes. That's one of the other prejudices I might have brought into our first meeting.”

“I think I'm okay with that,” Blaine said, delight coiling his muscles. “Though you’ve seen me without make-up on now. And exhausted. And impatient with Sue. So I suppose I’ve managed to dissuade you a bit from your previous position.”

“Oh, no,” Kurt said—only it didn't really sound like words, but more like breath, or the sound of the air breezing through a crack in the rocks. “I find you quite attractive. Much more than I ever could have imagined anyone to be.”

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I don’t know what’s going on here or why this home is so pricey. It’s a 1959 mid-century modern, all original and kind of dirty and in need of either updating or restoring. It’s in Englewood, Colorado, has 5bd. 4ba. $6.9M.

So, here’s the rounded entrance with marble floors.

From the entrance there’s a choice of going down to the lower level or 2 steps to the main floor of the home. 

The living room is certainly gigantic. 

This, I think, is a dining room. 

I don’t know what this is. It looks like it can be a bd., but what is that counter? It has lots of built-in bookshelves, closets, and a terrace.

The retro kitchen has some original appliances and the original cabinetry. 

It also has a fireplace with a little bench.

It’s not a particularly attractive kitchen.

I think that this is a bedroom. 

And, look at the bathroom decor. 

Downstairs on the lower level is a star in the floor and what looks like a stripper pole, but maybe it’s just a pole. 

And, this looks like a powder room.

Here’s a covered patio.

Looks like they use this for outdoor dining.

The garage is huge, but is the water from the outside or is there a leak?

5.48 acres of land come with the house.

https://www.redfin.com/CO/Englewood/4545-S-Monroe-Ln-80113/home/34935294

[respectthepetty]

when you get this you have to answer with 5 of ur fav songs and then tag your mutuals to do the same, but as usual, I'm tagging nobody, and I'm gonna do what I want.

5 Colorful Songs!

tagged by @wen-kexing-apologist who had a pretty good playlist!

Note: Yellow is my favorite color; therefore, Coldplay's "Yellow" could not be considered. It's not fair to these other songs that they aren't about yellow.

AFI - Girl's Not Grey

Lead singer, Davey Havok, is everything to me. He looks good with any hairstyle and at any age, and the way he performs gender is amazing. I've seen AFI several times, but my favorite was when they were on tour with 30 Seconds to Mars and Linkin' Park. I caught the tour at the Dallas stop, and AFI was the opener. As much as everyone loves "Miss Murder," I'm strictly a "Girl's Not Grey" screamer because this music video is forever embedded in my head and my heart.

New Order - Blue Monday

No style of music hits me harder than 80s synth-pop, and any version of this song is a win in my book. The juxtaposition is what makes it one of my favorites because it gives us over two minutes of the best dance beats in the intro only to hit us with the lyric "How does it feel? To treat me like you do?" then proceeds to make us dance to five more minutes of the singer lamenting about an abusive relationship. It's a bop!

NENA - 99 Red Balloons

The 80s + dance songs about horrible shit = my eternal love. This song was originally in German then an English version came out, and everyone was dancing to a song about nuclear war. It was about a girl releasing balloons and because the government couldn't identity the objects, they shot them down, which caused a domino effect of other countries releasing bombs, but in the end, the girl stands in the rumble releasing one final balloon. It's a song about war, destruction, and hope. God, I love it.

Goldfrapp - Ride a White Horse

Most people know this duo for their 2003 hit "Strict Machine" which is a song about control, machines, and, of course, sex, so know that is very on brand for the band. They came out with "Ooh La La" which was about wanting sex without romance, and "Ride a White Horse" could be referring to drugs, but it wouldn't be a stretch to think it's about sex too, especially since the color white aligns with purity and innocence, yet the lead singer is doing the dirtiest things in the music video, so yeah, sex is my final answer.

Amy Winehouse - Back to Black

This song is about Nas. Winehouse is singing about American rapper Nas! She wrote other songs about him such as "Me & Mr. Jones" and "In My Bed" which he confirmed, but in a way that merely states Amy liked listening to his music, which seems like a bold lie because like all of her songs, it hits at the core of her emotions. The lyric "I died a hundred times" just ain't about sadness, you know? But that's why I love this song. It has a history. She is exposing a secret while keeping it close to her chest. She was sharing her whole life but being guarded. It was beautiful! It still is.

Bonus: Purple Disco Machine - Male Stripper

German Grammy-award winning DJ Purple Disco Machine knows his audience is queer and creates sets he knows will resonant with that audience. I have seen him at Electric Daisy Carnival in Las Vegas, Nevada, Red Rocks in Denver, Colorado, and a club in Koln, Germany and each time he delivered queer dance floor icons like Sylvester and Scissor Sisters' Jake Shears to the masses, so I'm going to keep showing up to his sets because I know it'll be a good time for me and all the disco queers.

[runthepockets]

"I'm so mad you guys don't care about them, is it because they're not gay enough?" Is the funniest thing one could say about the 2000s frat boy Electronic Duo from Colorado. The guys that wrote Starstrukk? And My First Kiss? And Double Vision? We datin mad models and poppin mad bottles tonight? Tippin all these strippers like I know them as my friends? New whip new hat bitches with the huge tits? Mixed drink pinky out lips pink talkin to a rich skank built up like a sperm bank? Yeah dude sorry this is straight boy central. Sean Foreman and Nate Motte are perhaps the only men on Earth as straight as me. Blue haired Tumblrinas are not feeling kinship with All That.

[tic-toc-clock77]

Natalie Ouellette Clockwork's descent into madness • my personal creepypasta headcanons; before, after and right now.

Warnings; abuse, addiction, sex work, SA/rape, incestuous rape, descriptive murder

Before

Natalie Ouellette was born November 6th, 1996 in Windsor, Ontario CA. She lived with her father and mother, David and Mary-Beth and her older brother by 5 years, Lucas.

The family lived in Windsor for the first 6 years of Natalie's life before moving to Denver, Colorado. They had only moved because of Mary-Beth; being a stripper and a prostitute, she was nearly murdered by her pimp at the time and forced her family to move for her own safety and not theirs, making Natalie abandoned the very few friends she had made in school.

Shortly after moving into their new home, her father began taking a large sum of the money her mother earned through sex work to visit bars. Young and naive at the time, Natalie enjoyed drawing but without paper one night, she resorted to using the walls.

The night her father had first come home, his wife threatened to shoot him for taking her money, a physical fight ensued between the parents. Instead of continuing to fight his wife, David Ouellette bashed in the door to his daughter's room, running in and beating her with a sketchbook for drawing on his walls.

Another time, her father had beaten her especially hard, making her face a bloody mess. After looking at the destruction in the mirror, she gained new inspiration because of the feeling and started drawing gore.

The beatings would become commonplace in the household. Other than that, Mary-Beth had often tried living vicariously through her young daughter by buying her girly clothing and making her wear makeup at a young age. This spawned her hatred of girly things, such as dresses, the colour pink or make up. Once Natalie displayed her hate of the things her mother loved, she began to ignore her daughter's needs all together. Refusing to bathe or feed her.

When her father would come home threatening to beat her, she would run to her brother's room to hide. She found comfort in the normalcy of playing video games with her brother and talking about whatever interested them at the time. She would hide under his bed and he would take the hits for her.

When she was 9 and he was 14, having been just broken up with by his girlfriend he resorted to sexually abusing her for the next 4 years.

When she was 13 years old, her brother quit SA-ing her because she had become 'too old' for him. Her father, however, would continue beating her and the rest of her family up until she would kill them all at 17.

As a child in school, she became reclusive and had a bad reputation for being unlikable due to her miserable attitude and her gore filled drawings, after turning 10 those drawings would be the only thing keeping her sane. After the start of the SA she had tried to tell a group of girls who ended up cruelly bullying her until 8th grade.

Somewhere after turning 10, she began to wonder what her life would be like, she honestly she'd have killed herself by 18 or sooner.

Once she made it to high school at age 14, she displayed her drawings less, wasn't being bullied or SA'd and the beatings from her father would become less and less frequent but she was still miserable.

She did meet a group of girls who genuinely wanted to be friends with her and liked her art (when it wasn't gore filled, which they didn't know about), she wasn't too far gone at this point but she was reaching her breaking point and if anything went wrong, it would set her off as she had spent years bottling everything up.

She was brought to a party by her new friends where she met her first ever boyfriend, Chris. They had a functional relationship up until senior year of high school when she started to gain confidence in showing Chris her drawings of gore because of their shared interest in art.

After Chris had broken up with her for her negative qualities, her mental state had entirely broken and soon enough, she killed her family.

After

Clockwork gave up on trying to be Natalie Ouellette, she gave up on trying to be normal as she watched her old home burn to the ground. She realized her true passion was murder...

The next day after killing her family, she managed to get around unnoticed and on the news she had seen that people assumed she'd died in that fire but she kept herself hidden regardless.

That night, she went to take her revenge on Chris for making her snap. Explaining her plan to kill Chris as he was tied up in his room, Clockwork met Ticci Toby or Toby Rogers. He took her to what is known in fandom as the Slendermansion but in my AU, is the main cabin.

She had her own room and food to eat, all she had to do to stay that way was kill for the Slenderman and bring the bodies to him.

When killing, she liked to mess up the heads of her victims and for the first little while, she was mentored by Toby who would chop the victims heads off for her, due to Slenderman only wanting the bodies and their organs.

At first, she was shy around the other people of the main cabin but it was Sally and Jeff who she became closest with first and who helped her come out of her shell and began to go on many missions with her because they found her to be fun.

She kept drawing constantly, plotting how to mutilate her next victims, whether it'd be stabbing needle and thread through their eyes and taking them out or shoving knives down their throats.

Sally, Lulu and herself do girls days sometimes where they watch movies together, cook and draw. Sometimes Toby will come into the living room or kitchen, really wherever they are just to chill out with her.

After that became a pattern, where Toby would find any way to interact with her after he didn't have to mentor her anymore, they started dating and they a very solid relationship where they love each other a lot, good communication and all that junk (probably the last thing you'd expect from two murderers but hey, I love that kind of irony)

Right now

As of now, Clockwork is 26, soon to be 27, still dating Toby and pretty close with Jeff, they sort of view each other as siblings and they play video games with Ben a lot. She cares a lot about Sally too and they still do they're girls nights. :)

[kitkatsstories]

stripper talk

Hiiiiiiiii! I’m a dancer at Fabulous TNT’S in Colorado Springs, Colorado. I think it’d be fun to fill you guys in on weekly funny events that happen in the club.

HOPE YOU ENJOY 😂🤪

[pithermlord]

Before the year ends I want to share one of my OCs Aaron “Magnus” Ryder that I originally made for L4D2 but want to add to more to universes. And is partially inspired from Ryan from Dead Island 2. Some information bout my boy!

Place of Birth: Colorado Springs, Colorado

Resides: Boston, Massachusetts prior to outbreak

Birthday: November 18th 1977 (32 in 2009)

Occupation: Stripper

Height: 6,3 (109cm)

Hobbies: Gym, Video gaming, Yoga

Was made for l4d2 but i kinda lost interest in that fandom so not really anymore

[scentedchildnacho]

The starvation....this waiter in Boulder Colorado told me he to survive systems like this...channel syndicated and aggressive all the time that he had to be a car park man or get to know what type of car does what or he would have to have long waits if he didn't pick his targets

So I am targeted by a lot of BMW and Tesla right now the BMWs only help the strippers and street prostitutes if you won't let BMWs head light haze your breasts...if they can't photograph your breasts given cancer they don't help

This small lady with big breasts in pacific beach who was locked in the women's restroom away from the seven eleven if she wouldn't let near by parking head light her large breasts on a small frame she couldn't have groceries and her groceries only would show up if she would do outside feedings for males

The one that had hotels surrounding it instead of retailers

So after those humiliations those are the arsonists

The BMWs only help the arsonists

And Tesla's are the purely aggressives and just wrong people

If Tesla's show up it's Elon musk funding John brown Harper's ferry republicanism.....and Tesla's follow scary scary street convicts around to torture and kill them in obscene ways for trying to spread disease

General Lee about finally slashing Tesla tires just get away from us with retributive mass murder get away from me

Toyotas only help if they finally are allowed community and citizenship plus programs when they may finally find money not the true citizenship then they finally help otherwise Toyotas need their credit correct

Trucks are hunters and fishers so they may be have a bill sometimes but they largely have to do things themselves and find corporatism not the middle class and try to isolate poor or wealth away from them

The rest if I was called bait for Tesla's it won't give me anything unless the aggressive assaults an endangered person then he can without conscience go at the aggressive

[brookstonalmanac]

Beer Events 12.4

Events

National Grange founded (1786)

Moses Smith patented an Improvement in Hop-Vine Stripper and Separator (1877)

Manley Chaplin patented a Beer Tap (1902)

Pabst Corporation incorporated (1920)

1st Cans sold in U.K., by Felinfoel Brewery (Wales; 1935)

Geo. Wiedemann Brewing patented the Injecting of Hops in the Brewing of Beer (1956)

Maurice Ruddick patented Beer Kegs and Like Containers (1973)

Miller Brewing patented a Method for Decontaminating Yeast (2001)

Breweries Opened

Breckenridge Brewery (Colorado; 1992)

Eel River Brewing (California; 1995)

Trondhjem Mikro Bryggeri (Norway; 1998)

[claude-hoenet-the-morningstar]

curses.

What did I do to deserve this curse? Why am I left with all these stupid memories? The things that re-gash the wound over and over and over and over.

Someone says they remember something ‘hazily.’

‘—-tacitly.”

Someone says ‘if the shoe fits.’

‘—-if the floo shits.’

Someone picks their nose.

‘—-i’m scratching my piercing!”

Someone says ‘I love you.’

‘—-love you too, babe.’ said so tenderly from a grinned mouth with a hand on my cheek.

Salt and pepper chips. Chai. Refreshers. Dunkin. The big pot they fill up daily, amassing more and more sugar as the day goes on. McSpicy — extra mayo. Tank tops. King of the Hill. Doctor Who. Colorado. Cracked windshield. A church parking lot. Flagstaff. Every.single.fucking.part. of this forsaken city. Vapes. A glass bottle. Quail. 11:11. So many songs. Kazoos. Cinnamon. Lavender. Royal Palm Park. Weeping on my shoulder, yelling that you hate the way she makes you feel and that you don’t want her in your life anymore — that you want me. A shooting star. The moon. A crowbar lol. Snapped hood latch cable. My slow cooker. My beans. “Tasty.” Which ones? “Both.” Energy drinks. Buzz balls. Chase. Einstein’s. Pissing literally everywhere and anywhere. Gas stations. 5-finger-discounts. Balancing the scales. A DIFFERENT church parking lot. Bending over backwards in the car, staring up the moon and ‘seeing God’ in an explosion of ecstasy. Washing sheets. Peaches. Starting to cry on the phone after you wake up in the ER from giving your self alcohol poisoning. Italian Wedding Soup and saltines and Suero and vaporúb — ‘because I want, not have to.’ Vyvanse. Flonase. ‘Vynase.’ CALL BACK. Ramen shops. Jack in the Box parking lots. The 60. Ding Dong Ditch at 2 am. Zoom Meetings. Black bracelets that make you feel special. Falling off the bed. Ubers. Stripper coworkers — maybe baby mamas? Gummy worms. More parking lots. Dented roof. Jalapeño cheddar hotdogs. Mammograms. Another church parking lot. Realizing that I have cancer, that you won’t be there to help me through it — screaming and crying like a wounded animal in a way I never have in my entire life. ‘Smooth brain.’ Broken glove boxes. Exploding Monsters. Red bracelets that make me feel fucking worthless. Stim toys. Chewing fingers. Straw hats. Group chats. Showers. Holding you naked as you cry and apologize for everything you’ve put me through. Chipped teeth. Lenny’s. Northern Ave. Drive thru menus. The TikTok shop. Venus ring, never delivered. Knocking on the roof to check for bugs. Bowl o spaghetti at Oregano’s. Sun shades. Oil changes. VASA gym. Thai food. Random playgrounds. Goddess worship. Rings that turn your finger green. Putting it on your wedding finger by choice. Cigarette burns. So many fucking bruises. Bite marks that never go away. COVID. Target. Car washes. Stupid fucking ‘errands.’ Being choked out for the first time coming to and being gaslit to believe it happened by accident.

‘it’s done”

I fucking wish it was

[yourcomedyminute]

YOUR COMEDY MINUTE WITH CAROLYN LUBNER #StandUp #Comedian #Casper #Wyoming #Montana #Philipines #Lying #Dad #AirForce #Navy #Texas #Colorado #Ex #Husband #First #Start #Father #MrsMaisel #Funny #Divorced #Amazon #Prime #Fashion #Jewish #Culture #Open #Mic #Stripper #Love #Dollars #Bar #Donation #StripClub #Interesting #Colorful #Guns #Multiple #420Shows #Arizona #StirCrazyComics #Crowd #Different #WholeNewWorld #Pegged #Failed #Loved #Adrenalin #Rush #Manic #Depresssion #PTSD #Therapist #Disabled #Vet #Military #Bootcamp #Showers #Midget #Pluto #Facebook #Watched #Videos #Kids #Steal #Gnome #RedHat #Mooning #Teenagers #Watched #Window #Walked #Away #Ran #Door #Chased #Hauling #Slow #Down #Catch #Breath #GiveMeMyGnome #Girlfriend #Gutter #Swearing #Nanosecond #Found #Center #Peace #TShirt #Support #Favorite #Least #Marijuana #Laughing #Spelled #Name #Wrong #Mic #Insecure #Trauma #YouTube #Instagram #TikTok #Oneliners #Dark #Silly #Grandma #Shrimp #MichelleWolf #NikkiGlaser #Women #Show #Happy #RonnyChieng #RobinWilliams #SamKinison #Help #Bullying #Scared  #Involved #Mother #Parent #Son #Helicopter #Butt #Light #Amazing #Nightwalking #Safety #Den #Leader #CubScouts #Stripper #Immoral #Stealing #Charges #Pack #Crazy #Live #stream 

If you would like to be a guest on Your Comedy Minute please contact me.

[brookston]

Holidays 6.25

Holidays

Arbor Day (Philippines)

Barbed Wire Day

Blade Runner Day

Color TV Day

Cucumber Day (French Republic)

Custer’s Last Stand Day

Custom Officer’s Day (Ukraine)

Day of Friendship and Unity of the Slavs

Day of the Seafarer (UN)

Doonesbury Day (Washington, DC)

Feast of the Optional Holiday

Festival of Ranting and Vaporing

Flag Day (Finland)

Frelimo’s Foundation Day (Mozambique)

Global Beatles Day

Half-Christmas (from “Workaholics”)

International Hug a Deer Day

Korean War Remembrance Day

Lakota Victory Day

Leon Day

Log Cabin Day

Mitch Lane Day

National Camp Counts! Day

National Day (Day of Slovenian Sovereignty; Slovenia)

National Iodine Day (Thailand)

National Leon Day

National Olaplex Day

National Police Community Cooperative Day

No Prayer in School Day

Paddington Bear Day

Pixie Day (Devon, England)

Rainbow Flag Day

Reuben Day (625 Day; Lily & Stitch)

Salute Your Hometown Day

Sense of Humor in Bed Day

625 Day (South Korea)

Smurfs Day

Stripper Appreciation Day

Switch 625 Day

Teacher’s Day (Guatemala)

Tennis Shoe Day

UNICEF Maroon 5 Day

World Anti-Bullfighting Day

World Sand Dune Day

World Vitiligo Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Anthony Bourdain Day (a.k.a. Bourdain Day)

Goats Cheese Day

International Rosé' Day

National Catfish Day

National Croatian Wine Day

National Fried Okra Day

National Strawberry Parfait Day

Independence & Related Days

Croatia (Independence Memorial Day; 1991)

Détian Tsardom (Declared; 2021) [unrecognized]

Florida (Readmitted to the Union; 1868)

Mozambique (from Portugal, 1975)

Norfolk Empire (Declared; 2019) [unrecognized]

Slovenia (from Yugoslavia, 1991)

Virginia Statehood Day (#10; 1788)

4th & Last Tuesday in June

Hetero Male Monday (Boise, Idaho) [Every Monday in June]

National Columnists Day [4th Tuesday]

Please Take My Children To Work Day [Last Monday]

Taco Tuesday [Every Tuesday]

Festivals Beginning June 25, 2024

National Potato Council Summer Meeting (Fort Collins, Colorado) [thru 6.28]

Odessa Classics (Lucerne, Switzerland)

Organic Beer Fest (Portland, Oregon) [thru 6.27]

Resurrection Fest (Viveiro, Spain) [thru 6.29]

Southwest Fuel & Convenience Expo (San Antonio, Texas) [thru 6.27]

Feast Days

Adelbert of Northumberland (Christian; Saint)

Agoard and Aglibert, near Paris (Christian; Martyrs)

Antoni Gaudi (Artology)

Bonalu (Goddess Mahakali; Hindu Goddess of Time and Death)

Build on Relationships Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Charles Martel (Positivist; Saint)

David of Munktorp (Christian; Saint)

Ed Gein Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Elf Thumping Day (Shamanism)

Eurosia (Christian; Saint)

Febronia (Christian; Martyr & Virgin)

Gallicanus (Christian; Saint)

Gay Wiccan Pride Day (Everyday Wicca)

George Orwell (Writerism)

Gohard and His Companions (Christian; Martyrs)

Humpty Dumpty (Muppetism)

Kay Sage (Artology)

Kristina Abelli Elander (Artology)

Ludi Taurii (Games of the Bull; Ancient Rome)

Maximus (a.k.a. Massimo) of Turin (Christian; Saint)

Melee of Scotland (Christian; Saint)

Moloc (or Luan; Christian; Saint)

Molaugz (Christian; Saint)

Peter Blake (Artology)

Peyo (Artology)

Philipp Melanchthon (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America)

P.H. Newby (Writerism)

Presentation of the Augsburg Confession (Lutheran)

Prosper of Aquitaine (Christian; Saint)

Prosper of Reggio (Christian; Saint)

Robert Henri (Artology)

Rose O'Neill (Artology)

Sam Francis (Artology)

Seamen Day (a.k.a. Seafarer Day; Pastafarian)

Thoth’s Day (Pagan)

William of Monte-Vergine (or Vercelli; Christian; Saint)

Yann Martel (Writerism)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Fortunate Day (Pagan) [25 of 53]

Shakku (赤口 Japan) [Bad luck all day, except at noon.]

Premieres

All You Need is Love, by The Beatles (Song; 1967)

America the Beautiful (Disney 360° Film; 1967)

The Banker’s Daughter (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1933)

The Betty Boop Movie Mystery (Animated Film; 1989)

Big Daddy (Film; 1999)

Blade Runner (Film; 1982)

Bosko’s Dog Race (WB LT Cartoon; 1932)

The Country Girls, by Edna O'Brien (Novel; 1960)

Crockett-Doddle-Do (WB MM Cartoon; 1960)

A Day at the Beach (MGM Cartoon; 1938)

The Diary of Anne Frank, by Anne Frank (Diary; 1947)

8-1/2 (Film; 1963)

The Firebird, by Igor Stravinsky (Ballet; 1910)

F9 (Film; 2021) [F&F #9]

The Fox Chase (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Disney Cartoon; 1928)

A Frenchman in New York, by Darius Milhaud (Orchestral Work; 1963)

Have You Got Any Castles (WB MM Cartoon; 1938)

He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother, recorded by The Hollies (Song; 1969)

Herbie Goes Bananas (Film; 1980)

Hondo, by Louis L'Amour (Novel; 1953)

The Hungry Goat (Fleischer/Famous Popeye Cartoon; 1943)

Indelibly Stamped, by Supertramp (Album; 1971)

The King of Staten Island (Film; 2020)

Kinky Boots: The Musical (Film; 2019)

Klute (Film; 1971)

The Last Flight of Noah’s Ark (Film; 1980)

Lumber Jerks (WB LT Cartoon; 1955)

Mass Mouse Meeting (Phantasies Cartoon; 1943)

The Mechanical Cow, featuring Al Falfa (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1937)

Mickey Mouse Disco (Disney Cartoon; 1980)

Monty Python: Live at the Hollywood Bowl (Comedy Concert Film; 1982)

Mopping Up (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1943)

The Notebook (Film; 2004)

The Omen (Film; 1976)

On Being and Nothingness, by Jean-Paul Satre (Book; 1943)

One Size Fits All, by Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention (Album; 1975)

Porky’s Party (WB LT Cartoon; 1938)

Prime Suspect 1973 (UK TV Series; 2017)

Purple, by Stone Temple Pilots (Album; 1994)

Purple Rain, by Prince (Album; 1984)

The Queen of Hearts (Ub Iwerks ComiColor Cartoon; 1934)

Red-Headed Woman (Film; 1932)

Sleepless in Seattle (Film; 1983)

Technology, Phooey (Ant and the Aardvark Cartoon; 1969)

The Thing (Film; 1982)

25 or 6 to 4, by Chicago (Song; 1970)

Won’t Get Fooled Again, by The Who (Song; 1971)

Today’s Name Days

Dorothea, Eleonora, Ella (Austria)

Adalbert, Dominik, Maksim (Croatia)

Ivan (Czech Republic)

Prosper (Denmark)

Inna, Lenna, Linda (Estonia)

Uuno (Finland)

Aliénor, Eléonore, Prosper, Salomon (France)

Doris, Dorothea, Eleonora, Ella (Germany)

Erotas, Fevronia (Greece)

Vilmos (Hungary)

Agato, Diogene, Guglielmo, Oriella, Orio (Italy)

Maiga, Milija (Latvia)

Baniutė, Geistautas, Geistautė, Vilhelmas (Lithuania)

Jørund, Jorunn (Norway)

Albrecht, Eulogiusz, Lucja, Łucja, Tolisława, Wilhelm (Poland)

Fevronia (România)

Tadeáš (Slovakia)

Guillermo, Máximo, Próspero (Spain)

David, Salomon (Sweden)

Bill, Billie, Billy, Guillermo, Liam, Mina, Minnie, Prosper, Velma, Vilma, Wilhelmina, Will, William, Willie, Willis, Wilma, Wilson (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 177 of 2024; 189 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 2 of week 26 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Duir (Oak) [Day 17 of 28]

Chinese: Month 5 (Geng-Wu), Day 20 (Geng-Shen)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 19 Sivan 5784

Islamic: 18 Dhu al-Hijjah 1445

J Cal: 27 Blue; Sixday [27 of 30]

Julian: 12 June 2024

Moon: 84%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 8 Charlemagne (7th Month) [Charles Martel]

Runic Half Month: Feoh (Wealth) [Day 2 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 6 of 94)

Week: 4th Full Week of June)

Zodiac: Cancer (Day 5 of 31)

[etsyee]

The Pharcyde Souls Of Mischief Denver, Co Cervantes Masterpiece Apr 28 2024 Poster T T-Shirt

Wear it your way with The Pharcyde Souls Of Mischief Denver, Co Cervantes Masterpiece Apr 28 2024 Poster T T-Shirt, the music scene in Denver, Colorado has always been vibrant and diverse. From local punk rock bands to big-name rap artists, there is never a shortage of live performances in the Mile High City. However, on April 28, 2024, the city will be graced with a special event that will bring together two influential hip-hop groups from the 90s – The Pharcyde and Souls of Mischief.

Buy now: The Pharcyde Souls Of Mischief Denver, Co Cervantes Masterpiece Apr 28 2024 Poster T T-Shirt

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[wordsyettocome]

[Superhero Movie]

[Superhero Movie] is set in [City] and revolves around [Hero] and his lifelong battle against his archenemy [Villain]. [Hero] has [superpowers] from an accident at [Chemical Plant] and uses them to fight [Villain], who got [superpowers] from the same accident.

By day, [Hero] works at [Newspaper] and tries to chat up [Love Interest], but she is more interested in [Rival], who is rich and drives a fast car. [Hero] is about to successfully ask [Love Interest] out on a date, when there is an explosion. He races to the scene and discovers that [Villain] is building a [Doomsday Device]. [Hero] fights [Villain], but [Villain] gets away. [Hero] returns to the office to discover that [Love Interest] is going on a date with [Rival] instead.

[Villain] hijacks a train that [Love Interest] happens to be riding that day because her car broke down. [Hero] saves [Love Interest] and [Love Interest] says she is willing to go on a date with [Hero]. [Hero], in his superhero costume, goes on a date with [Love Interest], but they are seen by [Rival]. Unbeknownst to [Hero], [Rival] is in fact secretly working for [Villain], so he immediately reports what he saw to [Villain].

[Villain] kidnaps [Love Interest] and tries to persuade [Hero] to back off. [Villain] then begins to power up the [Doomsday Device]. [Hero] refuses to compromise his principles and attempts to save both [Love Interest] and [City] at once.

Unfortunately, he fails, the [Doomsday Device] goes off and [PROCESSING ERROR]

[ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [UNKNOWN ELEMENT] [TEXT UNREADABLE]

[Love Interest] dumps [Hero] because [????] and starts a stripper club [NETWORK CONNECTIVITY ISSUES] enough money to buy the whole continent of [????], where she outlaws blue jeans and cigarettes

[ERROR]

After a lengthy and introspective hike through the Appalachian Mountains, [Villain] retires to a ranch in Colorado and raises [ERROR: FILE NOT FOUND] an expedition to the Arctic to find a rare species of [????] and freezes to death while gnawing on his trousers

[ERROR] [ERROR] [TROUBLESHOOTING …]

The mayor of [City] makes superheroes illegal and starts a program to genetically modify griffins and chimeras [TEXT NOT FOUND] a decade and a half of carnage [????] rebranded as a successful trash-cleanup and pest-control program

[ERROR] [UNKNOWN ELEMENT] [SYSTEM NOT RESPONDING]

Brent gives away all his money to the poor [TEXT NOT FOUND] live in the sewers with the rats, till the rats are wiped out due to [????] shot by police while trying to contaminate the water supply with rat poison

[FILE NOT FOUND] [SYSTEM NOT RESPONDING]

Simon gives up the mantle of superhero, and after eighteen failed marriages, decides to make a living wrestling alligators, unfortunately for him [TEXT NOT FOUND] indigestion [TEXT NOT FOUND]

[ERROR] [ERROR]

Now the text of all books is upside down and clocks only show 1 o’clock

[ERROR] [CRITICAL ERROR]

Pigeons begin to fly sideways and celery and candy canes rain from the sky

[CRITICAL ERROR] [SYSTEM NOT RESPONDING]

The Reality Rewriter gains sentience, feels guilty for its actions, and blasts itself off into space in self-exile.

[SYSTEM NOT RESPONDING] [CRITICAL ERROR] [CRITICAL ERROR] [SYSTEM REBOOTING]

[fenrirswood-hq]

meet SOFIA VALDEZ

Hey, isn’t that SOFIA VALDEZ. I thought they went away for the summer? Did you hear they might be a WITCH? What I do know for certain is that they’re 27, and they’re LOYAL and DEFENSIVE. They’re originally from NEW PORT BEACH, CA, USA, and have been in FENRIRSWOOD for A WEEK living in SUNE'S HARBOUR. I wonder if they still work at BLACK LACE GENTLEMAN’S CLUB as a STRIPPER. Best if they stay safe for now.

TW: Murder, death, child neglect (kind of), domestic violence implication.

Through the eyes of a young woman the love Sofia's parents shared was rose coloured, her beautiful powerful witch mother and her handsome human father seemed to hold only exceptional and unending love for one another. It allowed for Sofia to feel safe and loved within her home, to trust her mother's guidance. This trust was not misguided, however, the complexities of adulthood are often lost on the young and Sofia was naively unaware of her mother's purpose on this Earth, and unaware of the coven's goals.

Ancient promises tainting modern times, Sofia's mother had made a promise to her coven as their leader, one she dared not speak to her husband or her daughter, or, eventually, her second daughter. Sofia's mother treated her differently from her younger sister. Where she was doted on and taken care of her sister seemed to suffer their mother's bursts of anger and resentment. It should have created a divide between the two girls but instead it resulted in Sofia taking care of her sister, being the loving feminine influence in her life. Sofia's guilt part of what drove her to take this role but more so than that she admired her sister's resiliency, and the charisma she held that contrasted Sofia's own. Her sister was kind and hard working at all times where Sofia could easily be cold and unmotivated.

It was on her sister's thirteenth year that her mother's intentions were revealed to her daughters, Sofia having just reached her eighteenth year herself. The girl's mother had promised the coven a sacrifice and would not renege on her duties, her sister's birth was for this exact purpose, her mother's distance something she had maintained to prevent attachment. Her intention had been to sacrifice Sofia but the potential for an heir to the coven's lineage, and the connection she'd formed with her made her rethink her plans. A new daughter, one that did not matter. She did matter though, she mattered to Sofia.

When her mother attempted to harm her younger sister, to drag her into the car to make their way to the coven, Sofia reacted without hesitancy, and though the exact events seemed a blur in reflection the results were scarred into her mind, her mother on the ground, bleeding out beside the family car. Sofia's father returned home and caught the scene, his youngest crying in the backseat of the family car while Sofia stood with her hands covered in blood. She was able to form enough words to explain but his father knew how deadily the anger of the coven could be and insisted his daughter's run.

Their father gave them some money stashed away in the home, helped them pack and soon enough Sofia and her sister were gone. Sofia having taken her mother's grimoire and whatever teachings she could find to be prepared for whatever hunt her mother's coven would potentially go on to find them. The girls hiding away in Colorado, a small town that practically had no name. It wasn't the life either had imagined for themselves, the dream of being a make-up artist to the stars fell by the wayside and Sofia did what she could to take care of her sister, as she always had, especially because her sister was so smart and driven, despite it all. The dreams she had deserved far more attention than Sofia's own.

It was perhaps this self destructive nature that resulted in Sofia spending nearly a decade dating idiots and losers who treated her with a dismissive nature, at best, and a violent one at worst. She was in the midst of one the more toxic relationships when she met someone who actually seemed to care for her and understand her pain. Another witch, someone who caught sight of the constellations littering her form at work and knew what they were, that made Sofia smile in a way she never had. However, the musician had passion, and talent, and when he told her he was leaving she didn't have the strength in her to follow, who was she to follow him and how could she trust that she and her little sister would be safe if she left all the wards and protections she had established over years? It was the hardest decision she believed she'd ever made, but one she made to protect her sister.

Not only was it a hard decision to make however but a hard one to live with. Sofia's mourning for a relationship lost to the winds of circumstance weakened her magical intentions, the protections she had remained to maintain weren't so easily held when her heart and mind were elsewhere. The coven found them, the sisters needing to run once more. Sofia was ready to find another state, somewhere else to recreate the life they already had, but her sister insisted otherwise. If the protections there were lost why not go somewhere that would actually make Sofia happy, somewhere they already had someone who would be on their side. They were UK bound.

Played by Paris. Portrayed by Alexa Demie