#aksel the corrupted

[angrelysimpping]

ah, oc posting

broken au where my oc Danny is taken over by the Entity

Entity is stuck in an AMAB body (it/they)/💜 @inkyquince 💜's Aksel (he/him)

Words: 1254

Contains: talk about ritual possession and violence and i think that's it?

The Entity is possessive over Aksel. How could it not be? He freed it from its imprisonment in its vessel’s body, fueled it with the obsession and devotion it took to achieve such a feat. Not only then, but now too. Aksel continues to feed it, continues to give it the power it had been so desperately craving when it had first found Daniel, tricked the grieving man into inviting it into his body. And now? Now they’re able to do what they want. They can move freely, no more fighting for control, drudging itself up from the depths of Daniel’s over bright soul only to get forced down over and over again, spent and what little energy it’d been able to collect waisted. 

Still, though, they’re trapped in a vessel's body, can feel where their beings have melded in a way that’s never happened before. Too close for it to pull away, to untangle. Stuck together. 

And…it affects them. They’re not sure how to describe it, the things that leak over from their connection, small wisps of emotions, whispers of humanity that, back when the entity had been in its prime, obliterated in the ritual that invited it into the host that was so lovingly prepared for them. 

It's vessel is what other humans call “promiscuous.” It's seen what he does, even when stuck low and seething in the vessel, curled around his spine, pressing behind his optic nerve. It knows what this shared body craves, the need for something, someone. The want for a warm body beside them, inside them. 

They despise it, these never before felt urges. It's had cocks before, but not like this. They'd rest between its thighs, soft and useless. Nothing to use it for, they didn't need food or drink. They didn't want what humans called food. Ash on its borrowed tongue. 

Now, the botched sacrifice, the violent merging of beings, the humiliation of a mortal soul overpowering them. The cock it now possessed would harden, become distracting and infuriating, unbearable. 

Loathe might be too weak of a word for what it felt, this imperfect vessel maiming its own understanding of itself. 

It's taken control of the vessel before Aksel freed it, used the vessel's body to drive away anyone who would try to stick by Daniel's side. This is different. 

It's terrifying. They'll never say it, but it's fucking horrifying. This want, this unending need.

And then there's Aksel. Their prized possession. Pet, maybe. They can't see Aksel as anything beyond that, though even this is a new, infuriating development. Aksel seems to take it in stride, seems to even enjoy it. Even enjoys when it snaps, presses the man face first into walls, tables, beds; growls in a distorted version of a human voice as it strips him, fucks into him. He seems to shiver and moan, preen and sigh, as they lose themselves in the deliciously tight heat of the other's body. It has a new appreciation for the sounds that the human makes as their hips meet, sharp teeth sinking into the crook of his neck.

It clears their head, for some time, but the vessel's habits never rest for long, never fully satisfied. 

Until it's pinned Aksel in bed, a strange heat creeping over its stolen body as it grabs at their pet’s stomach, thighs, cock. For as much as it hates how long it had to wait and watch inside this body without having control, it’s now grateful for what it's observed. They know how to make this body behave, settle, though they wish they didn't need to do something like this. 

They're sure they made a sound as they sunk down on their pet's cock, could feel the vibrations in their throat as a new noise they'd never made was birthed. They can't find words for it, delve into the vessel's host, into Daniel's memories, trying to find some semblance of an answer, something it might be able to understand. An unreachable itch it could almost fathom, the dry burn of being stretched open around Aksel's thick cock satisfying something it couldn't do itself. 

But that doesn't feel right, not fully. 

They keep Aksel pinned, though they know they truly don't need to. They can't imagine Aksel ever trying to rise up against them in any way, least of all this, his red eyes wide, freckled cheeks flushed as he watches his dick disappearing inside their vessel. Letting their tentacles keep their pet pinned, they cup Aksel's face, guide his hazy gaze up to their unnaturally purple eyes. 

No, not an itch. 

Their thumb presses into Aksel's mouth, wet tongue obediently licking at the digit. They keep searching through Daniel's thoughts, idly rocking on the hard length inside them. That is, until the head of Aksel's cock presses against something. Hard. 

Their back goes stiff, a distorted keen sounding in the back of their throat. It's almost as if their body starts moving on its own, chasing this new sensation. 

Well, not totally new. It had felt it before, something like it, dulled and filtered through Daniel. It had been mixed with something else. Something that burned it, made it writhe and squirm and try to tuck itself as deep into the body as it could, trying to avoid it to no avail. 

Not now, though. Now it's just…this. Whatever this is. Almost like the highs of the sacrifices it used to enjoy. Almost as euphoric as gutting those that got in its way.

Not an itch. 

It was ripping off a hangnail, the sickly sweet peeling of scab. A deep, ugly pleasure, one it could almost understand as its tail rises, wraps around Aksel's throat. 

Their pet shudders under them, hands twisting into the sheets, blood red eyes rolling back as their tail tightens, cuts into the sides of his throat. Their own cock is hard, rubbing against their pet's stomach, smearing violet tainted precum across taunt skin. When had this happened? It can't quite recall. It doesn't think it cares to know, really. 

The tip of their tail presses against their pet's chin, forcing his head back, exposing more of his throat. Saliva pools on their tongue before they dip down, biting into the skin. Aksel makes a wretched sound, hips snapping up, warmth pooling inside them. A new sensation for them, but familiar to the body it inhabited. 

They waste no time lifting off Aksel's cock, straddling his face. And he doesn't hesitate, doesn't disappoint. He has yet to do so. 

Those same dazed eyes find theirs, tears leaking down his face as they fuck into the wet cavern of his mouth. Tears, yes, but not tears it's used to. Aksel doesn't fight them, doesn’t try to pull away. A strong hand grips their hip, tries to press them closer, encouraging them to thrust harder even as he gaged around the cock brutality invading his throat. 

It almost yanks away when it feels something probing at its hole, but the pure devotion in Aksel's eyes stops them. Fingers slip easily past the stretched out ring of muscles, seeking out that same spot from before that had lit their body on fire. 

Find it he does. 

A soft sound leaves them, one that makes their skin prickle as that spot is hit over and over with each move of their hips. It's not long before something inside them snaps, spending themself down Aksel's throat. 

And finally, finally, the body they'd stolen, the one they were stuck in, relaxed. 

[saturniasxenos]

Cyber / Virtual ID Pack

Inside this pack, you will find: Pronouns, Titles, Names, and Genders that relate to Virtuality, Cybernetic, Robots, and anything alike!

This features a LOOOONG list of pronouns and dystopian-ish names!

Pronouns:

Cy/Cyb/Cyber/Cybers/Cyberself

Vir/Virt/Virtual/Virtuals/Virtualself

Ne/Net/Network/Networks/Networkself

Ne/Net/Nets/Nets/Netself

In/Inter/Internet/Internets/Internetself

Co/Comp/Computer/Computers/Computerself

In/Inpu/Input/Inputs/Inputself

Ou/Out/Output/Outputs/Outputself

Vi/Viru/Virus/Viruses/Virusself

Anti/Antivir/Antivirus/Antiviruses/Antivirusself

Er/Erro/Error/Errors/Errorself

Sys/Syste/System/Systems/Systemself

Pro/Proce/Processor/Processors/Processorself

Di/Digi/Digital/Digitals/Digitalself

Do/Down/Download/Downloads/Downloadself

Up/Uplo/Upload/Uploads/Uploadself

Cor/Corru/Corrupt/Corrupts/Corruptself

Mal/Malwa/Malware/Malwares/Malwareself

Se/Secur/Security/Securitys/Securityself

Cry/Crypt/Crypto/Cryptos/Cryptoself

We/Web/Webs/Webs/Webself

Web/Webs/Website/Websites/Websiteself

Fu/Futu/Future/Futures/Futureself

Ro/Rob/Robot/Robots/Robotself

Rob/Robo/Robotic/Robotics/Roboticself

By/Byt/Byte/Bytes/Byteself

Fi/Fil/File/Files/Fileself

Ra/Ram/Rams/Rams/Ramself

Scr/Scre/Screen/Screens/Screenself

Te/Tech/Techs/Techs/Techself

Te/Tech/Techno/Technos/Technoself

Tec/Techno/Technology/Technologys/Technologyself

Ma/Mach/Machine/Machines/Machineself

Wi/Wir/Wire/Wires/Wireself

Na/Nan/Nano/Nanos/Nanoself

Da/Dat/Data/Datas/Dataself

Plu/Plug/Plugs/Plugs/Plugself

Ele/Elect/Electric/Electrics/Electricself

Ke/Key/Keys/Keys/Keyself

Pa/Pass/Password/Passwords/Passwordself

Ter/Term/Terminal/Terminals/Terminalself

Cy/Cybo/Cyborg/Cyborgs/Cyborgself

Ty/Typ/Type/Types/Typeself

Fi/Firm/Firmware/Firmwares/Firmwareself

Ha/Hard/Hardware/Hardwares/Hardwareself

So/Soft/Software/Softwares/Softwareself

Ha/Hack/Hacks/Hacks/Hackself

Ha/Hack/Hacker/Hackers/Hackerself

Si/Sig/Signal/Signals/Signalself

Clo/Clou/Cloud/Clouds/Cloudself

On/Onli/Online/Onlines/Onlineself

In/Insta/Install/Installs/Installself

Co/Cod/Code/Codes/Codeself

Ad/Admi/Admin/Admins/Adminself

Gra/Graph/Graphic/Graphs/Graphself

Sy/Syn/Synth/Synths/Synthself

Phi/Phis/Phish/Phishs/Phishself

Phi/Phish/Phishing/Phishings/Phishingself

Do/Dox/Doxs/Doxs/Doxself

Si/Sit/Site/Sites/Siteself

Bo/Bot/Bots/Bots/Botself

Pho/Phon/Phone/Phones/Phoneself

Key/Keyboa/Keyboard/Keyboards/Keyboardself

Mo/Mou/Mouse/Mouses/Mouseself

Chi/Chip/Chips/Chips/Chipself

Moth/Mother/Motherboard/Motherboards/Motherboardself

Co/Com/Compute/Computes/Computeself

Pi/Pira/Piracy/Piracys/Piracyself

En/Encry/Encrypt/Encrypts/Encryptself

PDA/PDAs

CPU/CPUs

URL/URLs

404/404s

📱/📱's

💻/💻's

⌨️/⌨️'s

🖥/🖥's

🖱/🖱's

💿/💿's

🎙/🎙's

Titles:

The Cyborg

(X) Whos Wired

Made of Nanotech

(X) Who Uses Nanotech

Scholar of Machines

The Cyber Security

(X) Who Has Cyber Wings

Connected Online

Offline

Unable to Connect

The Administrator

Synthesizer

The Hacker

Nanohacker

The Antivirus

Reconnecting...

ERROR: Unable to Connect

ERROR 404

ERROR: Malware Detected

Names:

Since names don't usually have "techy" meanings, I picked one's that sounded the most cybernetic, cyberpunkish, dystopian, virtualish, etc!

Fem: Althea, Ameris, Astoria, Arcadia, Astra, Beretta, Cyra, Crystal, Crosselle, Eve, Io, Jinx, Kit, Lilith, Meridian, Morrian, Nebula, Nova, Neve, Noxia, North, Octavia, Odette, Odile, Prota, Pistol, Rey, Rue, Rain, Raine, Stormy, Seraphina, Sona, Skye, Thundra, Tempest, Vega, Viva, Vinette, Venus, Xenia, Xya, Xena, Xiomara, Xenara, Xanthe, Zephyria, Zyla, Zadie, Zia,

Masc: Alaric, Aksel, Arden, Antares, Apollo, Ace, Asher, Cole, Cyrus, Code, Draven, Drift, Ender, Flynn, Hawk, Isaac, Jericho, Kip, Kai, Koios, Knox, Nox, Neo, Nero, Octavian, Orionis, Oghma, Paine, Rocket, Ray, Rai, Silas, Slader, Sebastian, Seth, Seraphim, Thalax, Theo, Thatch, Vox, Vector, Wyatt, Xyon, Xane, Xylan, Xerxes, Xayden, Xavier, Xander, Zander, Zayden, Zenith, Zev, Zale, Zane, Zaire, Zeke,

Neu: Andras, Axe, Axiom, Alloy, Allele, Ash, Arrow, Beetle, Chrom, Corvus, Dakota, Dell, Eos, Echo, Eden, Fox, Ghost, Glöckner, Hydrae, Ion, Jesper, Jett, Kursk, Lesath, Locklyn, Lyrae, Maddox, Nemo, Orca, Onyx, Oxygen, Panther, Rikko, Robin, Rune, Scorpion, Scorpius, Saturn, Sparrow, Sonar, Tore, Tauri, Techne, Techno, Ursae, Vesper, Volt, West, Wolf, Xen, Xenon, Zephyr, Zodiac, Zenon, Zeru, Zero, Zen

Genders:

Futuracityc: A gender related to futuristic cities

Futurafashic: A gender related to futuristic fashion

Futurahousic: A gender related to futuristic houses

Digigender: A digital gender. Rangeable from any digital thing or file; virus, malware, .txt, .mp3, antivirus, trojan, email, etc.

Cybergender: A gender or form of gender expression where ones gender or expression is deeply tied into Cyberpunk lore, culture, fashion or media.

CYBERWEAPONIC - a gender that feels like a digital or robotic weapon. this gender may also have ties to sentient AI used as a weapon, but not necessarily.

BIOAMOROBOTIC - a gender connected to being a robot who loves humanity and the world and finds joy all around them!

RobAnatomic - a gender under the anatomic system(link) related to robots, anatomy, robotic anatomy, the anatomy of robots, robots made to teach/study anatomy, anatomy based/related robots of some kind, the anatomy/biology of someone or something being robotic, having robotic anatomy, being a robot with an interest in anatomy and more.

Robogender - for people who’s gender identity aligns with machines/robots/androids/mechs/AIs.

Cyborwebic - a gender related to webcore, evil scientist aesthetics, artificial beings such as androids/cyborgs etc, turtleneck sweaters and old computer monitors

AI flag - this can be used for nonhuman, otherkin, gender, delusion.

Gendervirtual / Genderdigital - a gendersystem in which your gender is related to virtual ) digital themes and x , such as being a virtual ) digital x , a x who loves virtual ) digital themes , a virtual ) digital being who loves x themes , etc.

[gasha40k]

It’s looking exceptionally bloody out here. Lots of good progress on my Khorne lads recently, and lots of good reading progress, too!

To start, I’m now about 3/4ths of the way through Khârn: Eater of Worlds, and it’s going pretty good so far! Lots of murder, which is par for the course for a World Eaters book. I like how the book expounds upon the Legion and its structuring quite a bit, as it’s one of the only Heresy-era novels where we get to see the Legion without Khârn or Angron. I like the Caedere a lot, I like how Dreagher is a normal person, and I like the human apothecary, Skoral, and her cool ceramite arm. I’m excited to see how it ends, but that’s enough book club.

A living myth known by countless infernal titles across the stars—the Apostate Scion, Betrayer of Valefar, Exile of the 8th, Deserter Lord—yet who himself claims none, Lord Akselos is a nigh-untouchable killer whose very name heralds the singlehanded slaughtering of entire worlds.

This is the Deserter Lord Akselos. Akselos was introduced to the blog a handful of posts ago when I first built him, but since then, I’ve not only fleshed out much of his backstory, but I’ve also given him a coat of paint and a nice base to go with it.

Billowing black cloak and beckoning hand for Khorne worshipping purposes, and definitely not because he is a bitter and melodramatic individual

I’m really happy with this mini. It may not be my best paint job, but I think it’s a solid kitbash, and all together, I think that he looks super cool. I am definitely satisfied with how he turned out. The painting isn’t super advanced but it’s cohesive and pleasing to the eye. This model also gave me a few challenges, primarily painting white. I’ve only used Wraithbone so I was a bit horrified using Corax White, but I think it turned out pretty okay.

Another challenge was figuring out how I’d base him. Because I want most of my World Eaters army to be visually similar, I figured that whatever base Akselos got would be the same base that I’d give my other World Eaters, so I had to decide on what would best fit both him and the rest of the army. I decided on some black, sort of mountainous rubble-rock with inlaid skulls (for Khorne, of course). I’m going to go over this and place some little patches of Valhallan White to break up the grey and I’m going to splatter the blood paint on the white snow, but this’ll definitely do for now.

Of his many names, Akselos is known most bitterly as Oathbreaker by the Ultramarines 8th Company, or at least by those few that remain in the 8th who still remember him.

I tried to keep the visual theme of asymmetry pretty strong throughout this model. Akselos’ soul is deeply conflicted, and has been for some centuries now. Currently, he is torn between two existences: that of the renegade Ultramarine, desperate for vengeance, and that of the Saint of Khorne, struggling to ascend attachment.

His right arm is made of Ultramarine bits. The Macraggean pauldron and Tacticus arm are all that remain of his old armor. Akselos wears this defiled heraldry as both a constant memento of his shame and a constant reminder of his hatred.

His left arm consists of Eightbound bits, who are the most daemonic units in the World Eaters roster. It’s visibly more corrupted than the rest of his body. After losing his human arm in a particularly desperate battle, the Ruinous Powers gifted Akselos with this charcoal black replacement. He pays for the gift by frequently nourishing it with the blood of the slain.

This won’t be Akselos’ actual squad, his escort squad will be a bunch of similarly white-headed Berzerkers built with Legionairy bodies to represent that they’re more renegade than WE

Akselos isn’t alone, though! I’ve officially “finished” my first squad of World Eaters. Again, the bases aren’t quite done. I’m going to add bloodstained Valhallan Snow to essentially all of these. I may also do place transfers here and there, and I’m definitely going to highlight Wally and Akselos, but the models and bases are done to a reasonable standard and I’m satisfied with calling them finished.

Shoutout to Wally he’s a day one

Here’s the squad leader, Kardon the Eternal, otherwise known as Wally the World Eater. Kardon is a veteran of unknowable age. Some claim that he fought for Khârn after Terra, some that he’s a hero from the Great Crusade, but all agree that he has been alive for millennia with the sole purpose of claiming skulls for Khorne. I think he’s a neat little homage kitbash and a solid paint job. Kardon looks purposely kinda simple so that he can either fit with a larger squad of 10 Berzerkers or lead a smaller squad of 5.

This is his squad of 5! Not much to say about the rest of these bozos, except that the first guy had a bit of a “stepped on” incident and I lost the haft of his axe, so he wields a little chain hatchet now. I like to think that the axe actually started as a two-handed Eviscerator, and over time, this guy has slowly whittled it down into a baby axe by hitting shit with it way too hard.

That’s all I got for now. Very happy with where this army is going. I hope to soon get my hands on Angron, and that’ll be a huge fucking chore, but it’s super exciting because I’d love to field that man. Beastly unit and awesome character. With Khârn, Invocatus, and Angron, I’ll only need Azrakh the Annihilator to finish my World Eaters canon character collection, and I’ll only need… a lot more units to boost my collection to 2,000pts. I’m hoping to eventually get my hands on the Combat Patrol to bolster my numbers, but that won’t be for a while since I’m a broke ass bitch. Thanks!

[mystic-lilac]

King of the North

Week 2 of college and I still find time to draw! Anyways here’s a portrait of one of my Original Characters, King Nord Forbannet of Talvi

Some backstory for Nord is that him and his family were nobles under the previous royal family until the family got corrupt. After the Royals raised armies to start a sudden war against Dayitra (A neighboring kingdom) Nord withheld his troops calling the war unjust, thus starting a civil war in Talvi. This civil war, later called the War of the Councillors, saw powerful noble families in Talvi fight each other for either royal favor or to put up Nord as the new king. Initially Nord wasn’t fighting for a new royal family and just wanted more power for the nobility until his younger brothers were captured and executed by the King to “punish” Nord for his treason. After his brother’s deaths, Nord changed his stance and fought to put himself on the throne through right of conquest. After the war was won and Nord was crowned King of Talvi with his wife, Malina, being crowned as consort. Their son and heir, Aksel, was born during the War of the Councillors but he was soon joined by two younger sisters, Mia and Anne, after the war’s end. While people feared Nord initially since there was a lot of propaganda about him being a bloodthirsty war machine he actually was a very rational and warm leader. He focused on the flourishing arts and science during his reign and sponsored playwrights and schools. He spent most of his time domestically but he was still warm towards the other kingdoms and always sought out diplomatic solutions before jumping to war like his predecessor.

[feuerwizard]

Gale  stares  at  Aksel  for  a  long  moment,  touched  by  the  sincerity  and  determination  in  the  blacksmith's  words.  In  this  short  time,  he  has  grown  undeniably  fond  of  his  companion,  and  hearing  such  a  heartfelt  vow  warms  something  deep  within  the  wizard's  chest.  "Thank  you,  Aksel.  Truly,"  he  murmurs,  voice  softer  than  before.  "I  am  not  accustomed  to  having  someone  in  my  corner,  as  it  were.  But  your  faith,  misplaced  or  not,  means  a  great  deal  to  me."  A  small,  self-deprecating  smile  curves  Gale's  lips.  "Though  I  fear  you  may  come  to  regret  such  a  promise.  I  have  an  unfortunate  knack  for  finding  trouble."  His  tone  is  light,  teasing,  but  there  is  an  undercurrent  of  genuine  worry.  After  all,  the  orb  nestled  against  his  sternum  is  a  ticking  time  bomb,  and  Gale  would  never  forgive  himself  if  Aksel  was  caught  in  the  blast.

But  the  wizard  pushes  those  grim  thoughts  aside,  focusing  instead  on  the  flicker  of  hope  kindling  between  them.  He  reaches  out  to  clasp  Aksel's  shoulder,  giving  a  gentle  squeeze.  "But  perhaps  you  are  right.  We  will  persevere,  tadpoles  and  all.  And  when  this  is  over,  I  look  forward  to  seeing  what  the  future  holds  for  us  both."  Gale's  gaze  drifts  back  to  the  crackling  campfire,  watching  the  embers  dance  and  swirl  like  tiny  fireflies.  In  the  peaceful  quiet  of  the  night,  it  is  almost  possible  to  forget  the  danger  looming  over  them,  the  dark  powers  seeking  to  corrupt  their  very  minds.  For  now,  the  wizard  allows  himself  this  small  moment  of  respite,  drawing  strength  from  Aksel's  unwavering  presence  at  his  side.

"Do  you  know,  I  think  I  rather  like  this  version  of  the  future  we've  concocted,"  Gale  muses,  voice  soft  and contemplative.  "A  life  of  adventure  interspersed  with  quiet  moments  like  this.  Simple  pleasures  and  the  occasional  spot  of  trouble,  as  it  were."  His  lips  quirk  into  a  playful  grin.  "I  daresay  we  make  quite  the  team,  you  and  I.  The  Sword  Coast  will  not  know  what  hit  it."

Was there a happy medium between a life like this and one that meant settling down into something more comfortable? Truthfully he wasn't sure there was but if he could make it happen for himself he would. " I am sure there is a way to find the best of both worlds somehow. " If he were to settle with somebody they'd have to want the same. The thought of living back in the city didn't feel like much of an option for him, not after all he'd been through, but somewhere nearby, somewhere quiet but out in the open. That sounded perfect.

" Oh I will, I was not going to ask for permission either. I get very restless you will be wishing you had never put the idea in my head. " He grins at that and then his gaze drops from the wizard's expression to his chest and he swallows the lump in his throat. It's an alien feeling for him, to care about somebody this much in such a short space of time but he does. Aksel has always had it in him, he's soft hearted but he's been betrayed by the world around him over and over again and as he looks at Gale now he's not sure it's all that different for him. " I will not let anything bad happen to you, not if I can help it. " He follows his words with a light shrug, but believes every word he says. " - and I realise that I may sound stupid or naive but I mean what I say. We will beat this and we will all be alive to tell the tale. "

[tctmp]

Action  Drama  Fantasy

[complicatcd]

Never judge a book by it's handsome cover, she supposed. She wondered where else he'd been in all his vertically gifted glory. "Shame. You missed out on all those big city price tags." Most of it was overpriced because stores in the area knew that anyone willing to walk inside was ready to empty their wallets. That, and it was more of a hassle to navigate the city sometimes than not. So, if that meant paying double for a suit jacket, people did it, herself included.

For a moment, she wondered if this was the same curiosity her mother had felt all those years ago when the woman had met her father. He wasn't from the same world of riches. She'd heard the stories from others, how much life her father had breathed into her mother before the corruption of wealth consumed him.

"Yeah, let's see about it." She wasn't afraid of the outdoors, wasn't afraid to get a little dirty. In fact, a part of her craved it. Her entire life had spent in a glass house, a long list of expectations drawn out for her, leaving little room to explore. If he were up and offering, she'd be foolish not to take it. She welcomed the gentleness beneath his rough hands, proof that he was no pencil pusher. No, he was the kind of man that put his hands to good use. Her smile widened as she watched him lift her freshly manicured hands between them. "And those boots don't look like they've ever set foot outside of Woodside," she countered confidently with a shrug.

Aksel slowly dropped her hand, but her smile remained widely stretched. For a man who claimed he wasn't good with words, he'd set something within her ablaze. She turned, gaze thrown over her shoulder and back to him. "Silly? Not even. Now I'm wondering what the award is for." The brunette knew nothing about him other than the fact he needed a suit for an event graced by the Governor where it sounded like he was more of the guest of honor.

She held his gaze, maybe a little too long before she turned back towards the array of suits. "Why? It'd look with your eyes." A truth beneath a joke. No powder blue suit, she'd give him that much. She thumbed through options, plucking one out every now and again until she'd put a grand total of five aside. "Let's find the dressing rooms," she gently ordered with the five suit jackets draped over her arms.

Alarm bells went off in his head that he was way out of his league with this woman. Not only was she eons ahead of him when it came to anything regarding sophistication, she was witty. "Believe it or not," the man peered down at her with a bit of a lopsided grin, "these legs have strolled down some big city streets." Of course in his boots and not in something like the heels she wore as though she were as comfortable in them as a pair of Crocs. "Just don't ask if I've been inside one of those stores." Bear wasn't sure they'd let his broad shoulders clad in flannel or a jean jacket inside such a fine retailer.

It hadn't been his intention when he'd nabbed her attention to score some time with her over some drinks, but now that he'd possibly gotten himself there? Bear would take what he could get. If a woman like her wanted to waste a little time with a guy like him, well, he wasn't about to miss that opportunity. He was all about the service. What intrigued the man more was the fact that she seemed fixed on the prospect of hiking, and with that Bear actually wanted to talk and get to know her more. She'd intrigued him.

When she brushed past him slowly, making sure they'd made contact, he knew quickly he was a sucker. Bear's blue eyes clocked every minute movement. His large, roughened hand gently grasped hers before she could get away, "really now? Let's see about that." Voice low, words dropped intimately between their close proximity, he lifted her fingers up so that he could examine them. He was prepared for her to snatch her hand away at any moment but while he had the time Bear scrutinized her fingers, paying close attention to her nail beds and under the manicured nails. "Doesn't look like you've ever had a spec of dirt touch these fingers." With a slow smile growing he eased his hold and let her hand fall away from his touch. The sweat comment had his brain short circuiting a bit and he told himself he was reading way too much into that. But, what person's mind wouldn't go there when seized by a woman like her.

Back to the task at hand, Bear attempted to quietly and as subtly as possible clear his throat as she carried on and listed the information he'd given her. To which, he'd nodded. "Yeah," his deep voice practically grunted, "kind of silly, isn't it?" Something told Bear this leggy brunette likely had been to a million things like this, and if it weren't ridiculous he would've pat himself on the back at picking the best person to help him out of the throng of shoppers. "Trust you..." Amusement filled his blue eyes instantly. How often did he ask strangers to do the very same thing? Different circumstances, but still. Semantics. "Please don't put me in a powder blue suit," the man chuckled. "Yeah, yeah," he soon jutted his chin, encouraging her to carry on, "do your thing."

[jewish-privilege]

A Norwegian rapper who cursed Jews while performing at an event in Oslo promoting multiculturalism will not be charged with hate speech because his words may have been criticism of Israel, prosecutors said.

Kaveh Kholardi said “f***|ing Jews” on stage at an event last year for which he was hired by the city.

Tor-Aksel Busch, Norway’s director of public prosecutions — a title equivalent to attorney general – rejected legal action last week, the news site Document.no reported Sunday.

Pro-Israel activists had filed a police complaint but it was dismissed. Busch rejected their appeal, explaining that whereas what Kholardi said “seems to be targeting Jews, it can however also be said to express dissatisfaction with the policies of the State of Israel.”

At the concert, the rapper wished Muslims a happy Eid al-Fitr holiday and acknowledged Christian listeners. He did not mention Israel.

On June 10, 2018, five days before the concert, Kholardi wrote on Twitter “f***ing Jews are so corrupt.”

The pro-Israel group MIFF, a Norwegian acronym for With Israel for Peace, which was involved in the initial complaint against Kholardi, called Busch’s decision “alarming” because he “finds ambiguity where there is none,” MIFF board member Jan Benjamin Rodner wrote.

[andremarshallwhite]

Fallout OC Interview!

thank you @robobrainmurdermysterytheatre​ for making this interview and also for tagging me in it! :D

i’ve done an interview for andre before, but he’s my baby so as much as he dislikes it, he’s going to answer more questions about himself lol he’s gotten a little more comfortable doing so!

-

What is your name?

“Andre.”

How old are you?

“Two hundred thirty-nine.” He smiles cheekily, then frowns when that doesn’t get a laugh. “Fine. I’m 29.”

What do you look like?

He blinks a couple times. “Uh, well, I’m a 6′3″ black man with lots of tattoos and locs. I need glasses, so I’ve got a couple of pairs of those in case I lose them out in the wasteland, and I’ve got a prosthetic on my right leg.”

“...It’s a long story.”

Where are you from? Where do you live now?

“I was born in Brooklyn, New York. Now, I live in a post-war, destroyed Boston. There’s... more to it than that, but, yeah.”

What was your childhood like?

He’s quiet for a few minutes, brows furrowed. “Overall, I think it was good. My dad was... kind of absent most of the time, but I don’t fault him for that. He worked a lot. My mom and I were really close, though.” He smiles at the memory of her and sniffles quietly. “I have-- had, two older sisters, and we were really close.”

What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions?

“I like Preston Garvey quiet a lot. He’s a great guy,” he smiles. “Anytime the Minutemen need any help, I’m there, but being the General really isn’t my speed. Aksel does a great job at that. And I used to be a part of the Brotherhood of Steel, but well, let’s just say that didn’t really work out when their “leader” tried to kill one of their best men and my partner,” he frowns.

Tell me about your best friend.

“Danse and I are really close, I definitely consider him my best friend, but realistically... He’s a lot more than that to me. I could talk about Danse for hours,” he smiles, looking down nervously. “But, uh, the only other person that means that much to me is Preston. He’s always there to listen when I need him, but also when Danse needs him. I can’t ask anymore than that, really.”

Do you have a family? Tell me about them!

He looks away and blinks a few times, taking a deep breath. “I uh, I have more of a found family now. Danse is the one I’m closest to, obviously, but beyond that, Preston, Sturges, and Curie are great friends. Oh, and Dogmeat. Such a good dog.”

What about a partner or partners? 

He smiles softly. “I’m still in love with Lily, my wife. I think I always will be, but she wouldn’t want me to be alone, and I think she’d like Danse quite a lot. They both have a lot in common, like putting up with my bullshit,” he laughs softly.

Who are your enemies, and why?

“Probably the same as anyone in the Commonwealth; raiders, Gunners, the Institute... and the Brotherhood, but that’s more of a personal one.”

Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them?

He rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “God, next question please.”

What about The Enclave?

“Hmm, no, never have.”

(op hasn’t played any other fallout games bc they’re poor oops)

How do you feel about Super Mutants?

“On one hand I feel kinda bad because they were experimented on against their will, therefore the way they are isn’t really their fault? On the other, they try to kill me on an almost daily basis, so... Not a fan.”

What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in?

“Oh man, where do I start?” he chuckles and adjusts how he’s sitting to get comfortable. “There was this one time when Danse and I were down in Quincy and we were taking out all the Gunners that took over, right? I can laugh now because it’s been a couple months, but at the time Danse and I got cornered behind a barrier they had set up. I only had a few magazines of ammo left and a couple frags, so I threw a grenade over the barrier and I shit you not, one of the fucker’s legs shot up into the air and landed right in front of us,” he laughs, running his hands through his locs. “Danse and I looked at it for a second, but couldn’t really react because we still had a bunch of Gunners to take out, y’know? Anyway, we found an abandoned house and camped there for the night and laughed about it over a couple of beers, it was great.”

Have you ever fought a Deathclaw?

“Yeah, that’s how I got the scar on my forehead. I was out of commission for a couple of months after that.”

Do you like fighting?

“Not at all. I do it because I have to, but it’s fucking exhausting and really dangerous.”

What’s your weapon of choice?

“My sniper rifle. I’ve had it since my army days and I’ve been modifying it since. It’s a... little different now,” he chuckles.

How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination?(a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?)

“I like to think charm has something to do with it? Maybe it’s intimidation, but it gets the job done. And skills.”

S - 10 P - 13 E - 8 C - 12 I - 9 A - 10 L - 7

Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them? 

“Yeah, I don’t really like to talk about that.”

How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you?

“Typically, I’ll wear a gas mask when it gets really bad.”

What’s your favorite wasteland critter?

“Probably brahmin. They’re usually really sweet. Danse and I have been talking about starting a farm in the future and we both want a couple of brahmin.”

What’s your least favorite wasteland critter?

“They’re in Nuka World, but I fucking hate the crickets there.” He shivers and frowns. “Blegh.”

How do you feel about robots?

“I like Mr. Handys and Protectrons best. They just try and help most of the time. Plus, Codsworth is a great friend of mine.”

How many caps do you have on you right now?

“Around... 450? I don’t really spend my money much. Never know when you might need it, y’know? I have more at my home base, though.”

Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla?

“Nuka Dark.”

Do you do chems? 

“No, but I smoke and drink more than I probably should.”

Do you ever think about the Pre-War world?

He looks away, like he’s looking at someone for comfort, before answering. “Yeah, all the time.”

What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently?

“Not asking if there was a couple’s cryo. There probably wasn’t because Vault-Tec were corrupt as shit, but if there was a way for me to know that I’d lose her, I’d do anything I could to prevent it.” 

Danse comes in and puts his hand on Andre’s shoulder. “We’ve talked about this, Andy. She wouldn’t want you to worry about this all the time.” He leans down and kisses Andre’s forehead. “It’s not your fault.”

Andre nods, eyes closed, and grabs Danse’s hand. “I know.”

What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve?

“Convincing Danse to stay in the Commonwealth. I’m not sure what I would have done if he left, or worse.” He squeezes Danse’s hand a little.

What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world?

“Normalcy. I just want to be able to go to sleep without worrying if a raider is going to come in, steal my shit, and kill me and my family.”

[angrelysimpping]

M!OC x Friend's M!OC

Contents: Dead Dove; Non Con; fantasized incest; pseudo incest; Aksel being the massive creep he is; Danny’s drunk and high and very much not making logical decisions; painal

Set in the School AU, where everything is "normal." No cult, Aksel never blinded Joaquim, Danny isn't half possessed. Characters are younger than their canon age, in their last year of high school, getting ready to go off to uni.

Aksel, Joaquim, Vine, and Murmur belong to 💜@inkyquince 💜

Words: ~3.6 k

Really, it makes perfect sense in Danny’s brain, if he can hold onto his thoughts long enough to follow them. He doesn’t know what he drank, really, just that it was strong enough to make Vine’s nose scrunch when he’d taken the first swig before pressing the drink into Danny’s hands. Danny had drunk that and more before Vine had pulled him into his lap and shotgunned weed into his waiting mouth. Now here he is, tipsy and high and the party long over, alone in the cool, dark night and trying to nail down his thoughts.

He should have stayed with Vine. Well, he would have stayed with Vine, would have stayed in the drummer's lap, half riding the thick fingers stretching him out while making out, if Murmur hadn't cut things short. The singer had shown up and nearly dragged Danny off Vine, sneering as he snapped at Vine to Stop fucking the whore and get on stage.

So, Danny had ended up alone. Alone and with the intense need to sleep. Alone, in need of sleep, and in front of Joaquim’s house.

Danny’s never been to Joaquim’s house, but he knew where it was. Everyone did, the St. James house, how could Danny not know where it was? But, he’d never visited. Hell, he’s not really sure Joaquim knows who he is, but he knows Joaquim. Or, Danny knows Joaquim enough. He knows Joaquim is friends with Vine and that he’s nice, a good person. So, surely, Joaquim won’t mind if Danny crawls in through his window one night and crashes on the floor. Just for the night, just the once. Joaquim seems like the kind of person who would let Danny curl up in a warm corner and sleep. Double so if Danny mumbled out something about how his parents would kick him out on sight if they caught him coming in like this.

Yeah, Joaquim’s a nice guy, he wouldn’t mind.

But, luck seems to be on Danny’s side, at the moment. Not only is Joaquim not in, meaning Danny won’t have to try explaining himself while tipsy and fucked up, there was also a little couch! A beat up couch that would probably leave him stiff in the morning, but leagues better than propping himself up in a corner and hoping for the best.

Danny doesn’t hesitate, flopping onto the couch. It’s…surprisingly comfortable, actually. Yeah, he’ll be sore in the morning, but probably not that bad. What’s more, there’s Joaquim’s signature jacket thrown over the side. Danny tugs it down, using it as a blanket.

God, Danny could stay like this forever. Tucked up and cozy, drifting slowly out of consciousness as he thinks about Joaquim. It’s hard not to think about the cute redhead, not when Danny can catch hints of his scent with every deep inhale. Something sweet and leather and raspberries. Danny can almost pretend that there’s someone else here with him, holding him on the small couch. It’d be nice, he thinks, to be held so close on a couch like this. They’d have to be practically on top of each other, snuggled close. Yeah, that’d be nice.

Danny slips into a deep, easy sleep. A sleep so deep that he might as well be dead to the world. Deep enough that he’d never hear the tiny click of the door unlatching; or the whisper soft swish of it swinging open; nor the light padding of feet who know their way easily around the room they didn’t belong in. No, there’s no way for Danny to know that Aksel St. James has slinked into his younger half brother’s room. Even if he did, he wouldn’t think anything of it. Not really. Maybe the older brother was looking for something Joaquim borrowed. Aksel was head boy, top of all his classes, beloved by teachers and with a small, almost cult-like following of students. How could Danny ever guess that the angelic like blond was slinking into Joaquim’s room to steal a pair of his little brother's used underwear?

Aksel only falters slightly at finding the school slut passed out in Joaquim’s room, but who is he to look a gift horse in the mouth? It’s like a blessing, finding Danny unconscious in his younger brother’s room. Something for Aksel to unwrap and enjoy, have fun with. Take out all his pent up frustrations out on in the safety and comfort of his own home. In his little brother’s bedroom. Joaquim’s bedroom. Joaquim.

It’s surprisingly easy for Aksel’s shaking hands to tug Danny’s jeans down, fabric sliding over sharp hips, the younger man shifting slightly in his sleep, as if helping Aksel strip him, but otherwise not stirring as the denim slides off his legs. Aksel’s breath quickens, harsh in his own ears as he stares down at the unconscious man beneath him. Aksel isn't a virgin, nowhere close, but there’s something about how this is all happening in his baby brother’s room that makes everything feel more intense, cock already taking an interest, pressing painfully against his pants.

Pretty, he thinks, gazing down at the body spread out under him. Danny has a pretty cock, resting at the end of a thick happy trail like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. On the longer end even when soft, a dusky pink tip that just begged to get sucked on and made drool pool under Aksel's tongue. Lovely thing nestled in a nest of soft, trimmed pubes. Not like his little brother's cock, not at all. Monstrous thing Aksel could only stare at in mirrors when he barged into the bathroom while Joaquim showered, waving off any squawk of protest with how they're brothers so it's fine if Aksel doesn't wait for Joaquim to finish showering first. But, Aksel didn't want his cock, so it's fine that it's nothing like his brother's.

Shimmying out of his own pants only takes a second, quick to press his aching cock against warm thighs, soft skin. Aksel has half a mind to force himself into the unconscious man, fuck into the body beneath him, chase his pleasure fast and hard without thought. But, he holds back. He won't get another chance like this, he wants to draw it out a little.

Gripping under Danny's knees, Aksel pushes his legs back, exposing a cute little hole, eager for his attention. He presses two fingers against the puckered hole, grinding wildly when the tight muscles twitch against him. His last bit of restraint snaps as he roughly thrusts his fingers past the ring of muscle, moaning low in the back of his throat as Danny whines, kicking a little at the intrusion in his sleep. Maybe, if Danny wasn't high and tipsy, if he hadn't fucked himself on Vine's thicker fingers earlier in the night, Aksel's dry fingering would wake him. Maybe he'd be able to cry out, awake or not, and alert the St. James father to the actions of his eldest son.

But he can't and he doesn't. Danny just mewls softly in his sleep, squirming on the fingers being worked in and out of him.

"That's it," Aksal says with a breathy laugh, "be a good boy, Joaquim. Relax for your big brother."

Aksel can’t help but stare at where his fingers disappear into the body under him. So tight, so warm. His cock leaks against his thigh at just the thought of finally sinking into that delicious heat. And there’s that pretty cock again, growing hard, flushed and leaking messily. He almost wants to duck down, lap up some of the thick precum and pretend it was his brother’s.

He doesn’t. Instead, Aksel leans down, pressing his face into the jacket still spread over Danny’s chest and inhaling deep. He moans low, familiar scent of his little brother making him dizzy. “Joa.” It’s then that Aksel hits upon Danny’s prostate, making his cock twitch, a tiny half choked sound pulled from his throat and garbled in his sleep. A noise that Aksel swears sounds like a soft sigh of Aki, and he can’t take it anymore.

Aksel presses against the bundle of nerves one more time before pulling out, slotting between Danny’s leg, lining up his fat, leaking tip with Danny’s twitching hole. Once, twice, three times, Aksel taps his head against Danny’s rim, reveling in the way Danny squirms and whines under him, instinctively trying to sink down on the thick cock teasing him even when unconscious.

“Such a good boy,” Aksel murmurs, tapping against Danny’s rim for a fourth time, soft pap of skin against skin making him shiver. “Big brother is gonna make you feel so good, promise.”

His actions are in sharp contrast with his soft words, pushing into Danny with one solid, savage thrust.

Danny’s eyes fly open, mouth dropping open in a scream that never makes it past his throat. He can’t think, mind scrambling to make sense of what’s happening. A hand clamps over his mouth, a dick rearranging his guts. Fear burns through him as he tires and fails to understand what the fuck is going on.

Then he hears it.

“Joa, fuck, Joaquim. Taking me so good, taking your, ha, your big brother so well.”

Danny recognizes the voice, but he still doesn’t believe that it’s Aksel, even when his eyes finally focus on the man above him. It’s dark, little light creeping in from the window Danny had left open after crawling through. But, that’s Aksel St. James. Bright blue eyes and angelic blond hair and sweet dusting of freckles that Danny would be hard pressed not to recognize.

“My sweet, ah, s-sweet baby brother. Gonna make you addicted to my cock.”

But that can’t be right. This can’t be right. Aksel wouldn’t do something like this, would he? Danny doesn’t think so, he can’t fathom a world in which Aksel would do, could do, something like this. No way. Never. Not in a million years.

A dream. A nightmare. It has to be. A product of some fucked up part of his subconscious. Too much to drink, too much to smoke, too much porn that’s wormed its way into his brain and turned Aksel into some kinda foul monster. Turned the older man into a creep who would rape someone he found sleeping in his brother’s room while voicing vile fantasies that it was his brother he was assaulting instead.

Not real. None of it. That's why he can't move, can't fight back. A wildly vivid dream where his body hardly responds to his commands, arms leaden and brain foggy. He can’t think straight, can't think past the pain of being brutally fucked open and used. It didn't help that he could still catch hints of Joaquim’s scent from the jacket haphazardly spread over his chest. Leather and rust and cigarettes and sweet, sweet raspberries. If Danny lets himself, he can almost imagine that this is all some sorta play, cnc or somno, something he actually wanted and consented to.

Something with Joaquim.

Cute redhead who wouldn't hurt him. Who blushed when he walked in on Danny and Vine fooling around. Who never said anything crude about Danny's appetites or harassed him for a turn. Who could pick him up and toss him around but always seemed so, so gentle.

On impulse, Danny opens his mouth, licking softly, almost meekly, at the palm pressed over his lips. Aksel makes a tiny sound, halting in his fevered thrusts but still pressed deep. Too deep. Makes Danny feel too full, a feeling he might appreciate under different circumstances, but not now.

The hand over Danny's mouth moves, fingers sliding past his lips and pressing down on his tongue.

And he sucks.

It's instinct, something Danny must have done a thousand times. Easy. Something he could control.

"Fuck," Aksel moans, low and drawn out. "There's a good boy."

There's a small flicker of heat inside Danny at those words. A traitorous prickle of pleasure.

Aksel starts moving again, pounding into Danny as if in a frenzy. And, try as Danny might to stop it, the pleasure builds, the head of Aksel's cock just grazing his prostate with every other thrust.

Danny tries not to think, to focus only on the fingers in his mouth, tongue swirling around the digits. It helps, in a way. Lets his brain zone in on something that wasn’t the burning pain of Aksel humping into him.

His reprieve only lasts for a few moments, his teeth scraping over knuckles when a hand wraps around his cock, demanding his attention. It hurts, Aksel squeezing his cock, roughly thumbing the tip of his dick, a finger nail lightly digging into his slit and making tears spring to the corner of his eyes even as cum leaks down his shaft. Danny whines around the fingers in his mouth in the vain hope it would make Aksel stop, but it only seems to spur him on.

“Be a good little brother,” Aksel huffs, jerking Danny’s cock almost as brutally as he fucked his ass, “and cum on my cock.”

Danny wants to die. To disintegrate. That’s what should happen, for him to get ripped from reality for his brain to birth such a horrid fucking nightmare. Because not only has he gone and made Aksel a monster in his dreams, but he likes it.

Heat surges through him at Aksel’s words, pooling shamefully in his gut. Tears streak down his cheeks and the small hope he has that Aksel won’t notice are dashed as the blond almost immediately leans forward, tongue darting out to swipe over the salty trails left over Danny’s skin. Even as he cries, his dick twitches dangerously in Aksel’s hand, forced ever closer to the edge as Aksel continues to chase his own pleasure. Aksel might not be deliberately targeting Danny’s prostate, but that doesn’t matter. If Danny could fully let himself drift, he’d pretend it was Murmur being a sadistic shit and doing it on purpose, edging him.

He can’t drift, though. Danny can’t help but stare up at Aksel as he finally cums, spilling into his hand and tightening around his cock. Aksel looks wild, feral. Unhinged.

“Good boy,” Aksel pants. “Good fucking boy.”

Aksel wanted this to last a while, but he couldn't hang on much longer, thrusts becoming sloppy as he gets closer and closer to his end. “Joa,” he pants, harsh breaths sounding far too loud in Danny’s ear. “Keep being a g-good boy for me. Okay? Take, ah, your big brother’s cum d-deep in your ass like the good boy I know, fuck, I know you are.”

Danny’s too far gone to really be aware of when Aksel finishes, pumping him full of thick ropes of cum. He knows Aksel doesn’t stop, continuing to fuck into him through his orgasm. It’s as if he’s possessed, bent on fucking his seed as deep into Danny as possible.

A tiny sound escapes Danny as Aksel pulls out quick, just as inconsiderate of Danny’s comfort as when he started. Danny’s poor hole isn’t given a chance to rest, though, the fingers in his mouth ripped from him and shoved past the puffy rim without hesitation. Danny’s eyes roll back, a high keen ripped from his throat as Aksel fingers his cum deeper into the exhausted man.

When Danny feels something against his mouth, he doesn’t think, licking at the presented flesh obediently. Anything, anything, that made this nightmare end faster. He hardly registers that he’s cleaning his own cum from Aksel’s hand, tongue lapping up the salty liquid meticulously, not missing a single drop in case that triggered some kind of retribution.

“Good boy,” Aksel coos. “My sweet baby brother. So good for me. Did you like it? Did big brother make you feel good?” The fingers slide out of him, the newly spit cleaned hand brushing through his sweat damp hair. “Hm? You too tired to speak? Fucked you so good that you can’t even say how much you loved coming on your big brother’s cock?”

Aksel’s gazing down at him, a strange look in those bright blue eyes. One that makes Danny’s stomach flip with renewed dread. Aksel wants an answer, one Danny can barely think of, let alone verbalize. It takes his last ounce of strength to nod his head yes.

“Ahw, sorry baby. I’ll clean us up, big brother will take care of it.”

Aksel stands and Danny’s heart sinks as he sees the blond’s cum covered cock. It’s so close to his face, he’s sure that Aksel has decided to go another round, to fuck his mouth this time. To make him clean the dick that was forced inside him only moments before.

He doesn’t, turning to rummage through a basket that Danny hadn’t paid any attention to earlier. It was just a basket of dirty clothes, after all. What use did they have to Danny? Of course, this had been Aksel’s original goal, fishing out a pair of Joaquim’s dirty underwear and using it to wipe off his cock.

Aksel fixes his own clothes first, shoving the soiled underwear into his back pocket, before redressing Danny. It’s harder than stripping him, Danny’s unconscious body somewhat helping, responding to Aksel’s touches. Now, Danny is sapped of every last speck of energy. He can barely keep his eyes open as Aksel tucks his cock back into his pants, drapes Joaquim’s jacket back around his body. He doesn’t want to fall asleep again, especially not with Aksel still in the room. It’s a futile fight with his body, though, eyelids growing heavier and heavier as Aksel brushes back his hair, murmurs soothing words that Danny can hardly hear.

Aksel leans down, brushing his lips over Danny’s forehead in a soft, almost tender, kiss.

“Sweet dreams, little brother.”

There’s a pang in his chest at those whispered words. A deep, aching echo in his bones. New tears gather in the corners of his eyes, slipping free only as he finally lets his eyes shut and succumbs to sleep.

-

Everything hurts. Danny’s not even fully awake yet, but that’s all he can think of. His body fucking hurt. Achey. His head is pounding and his eyes feel like sand was ground into them, but it’s his body that really pains him. What the fuck happened? He thought his hangover would be brutal but he hadn’t figured his body would feel so sore. Worse than he expected from getting messed up and then crashing on a couch that was too small for him to properly spread out on. Maybe he should have slept on the floor after all? But, no, if he hurt this much from sleeping on the couch, it’d probably hurt worse if he’d slept on the floor.

He stands gingerly, careful to keep Joaquim’s jacket from falling to the floor. It somehow felt wrong to let it, disrespectful or something. Danny takes a moment to lay the jacket back over the side of the couch, smoothing down any wrinkles.

When he’s satisfied with his work on the jacket, Danny stretches, trying to work out some of the soreness from his body.

Really, if he didn’t know any better, Danny would think he’d been fucked good and hard last night.

Danny freezes, going cold as he remembers what happened last night. It’s flashes, snippets of words and scraps of feelings.

That can’t be right, though. If he’d fucked someone last night, he wouldn’t be in Joaquim’s room in the first place. He would have stayed with whoever he’d fucked.

He leaves Joaquim’s room through the same window he’d crawled in from, starting his walk back to his own home, ignoring the pain in his lower back. The pain that’s familiar to him. The pain that always flairs when he’s been fucked too hard, pain that’d normal have him giving his partner crooked grins, his dick twitching in his pants at the aches that’d flair as he moved.

But not this time. Because he didn’t get laid. So it’s just normal pain from sleeping poorly, even if it’d never happened before when he’d literally slept on the floor.

His brain drags up the vision of man on top of him, Aksel on top of him. Aksel St. James. Aksel fucking him, Aksel hurting him. Calling him “little brother,” calling him “Joaquim.” That beautiful face hovering above him, the vile words spilling from his mouth, the brutal cock splitting him open.

A nightmare. A horrid fucking nightmare from the depths of his porn rotted brain. That’s all. That’s fucking it. Nothing else. His body hurts from the couch. That’s all. That’s all. Something born out of his own perversion. Not real. Not real. Not in the slightest.

Danny flinches as a car drives past him, the sound breaking him from his thoughts. He fumbles with his phone, shooting off a quick text to Vine.

need to sleep with you tonight

His phone lights up as Vine answers almost right away.

needy slut huh? cant promise murm won’t try to run u off but sure, get ur ass over here. parents again?

Danny doesn’t bother answering, turning on his heel as his destination changes. He’s never had a nightmare like that when sleeping with someone else, and he can’t see a world where Vine wouldn’t let Danny share his bed. Danny would make sure to pay him back, after all.

[antisemitism-eu]

Norway prosecutor: Rapper’s ‘F**king Jews’ slur could be criticism of Israel

Via Times of Israel:

A Norwegian rapper who cursed Jews while performing at an event in Oslo promoting multiculturalism will not be charged with hate speech because his words may have been criticism of Israel, prosecutors said. Kaveh Kholardi said “f***ing Jews” on stage at an event last year for which he was hired by the city. Tor-Aksel Busch, Norway’s director of public prosecutions — a title equivalent to attorney general – rejected legal action last week, the news site Document.no reported Sunday. Pro-Israel activists had filed a police complaint but it was dismissed. Busch rejected their appeal, explaining that whereas what Kholardi said “seems to be targeting Jews, it can however also be said to express dissatisfaction with the policies of the State of Israel.” At the concert, the rapper wished Muslims a happy Eid al-Fitr holiday and acknowledged Christian listeners. He did not mention Israel. On June 10, 2018, five days before the concert, Kholardi wrote on Twitter “f***ing Jews are so corrupt.”

read more The New Antisemite: https://ift.tt/2O1V5gL

[alaturkanews]

Lebanon marks 17 years since killing of former PM Rafik Hariri

Lebanon marks 17 years since killing of former PM Rafik Hariri

It's been exactly 17 years since Lebanon's prime minister, Rafik Hariri, was assassinated. In 2020, a UN court convicted Hezbollah member Salim Ayyash, in absentia, to life in prison. Three other defendants were also acquitted. Following decades of corruption and failed policies, Lebanon is now mired in a severe financial crisis. Aksel Zaimovic takes a look at the impact of Rafik Hariri's legacy.…

[f4rgd]

He's always had a flare for the dramatics and it doesn't stop at pulling the hoodie around his face. Aksel drops back onto the bed with a groan and lays still. " You are the victim? You? " At this point he's only playing, it's obvious in the way his voice cracks as he tries to play it off as being entirely serious. He huffs, breathing out of his nose because it's about the only thing that can be seen with the drawstring pulling the fabric tight. " Do not blame the cat for this you should have seen it coming. "

After the huff he rolls his eyes behind the fabric and he starts to pull the hoodie loose around his head. " I always aiming for a burrito but a soft dick, well, it turns out being a soft dick is comfy. " Another tug at the hoodie and it loosens enough for him to pull it down, hand raised to ruffle his hair where it's been flattened.

Now his eyes are back on Paerin staring curiously at the beard free chin, his head cocked. " You look very... " He lingered as he tried to find the right word. " You look like the type of man I could take home to my mother and she would tell me not to corrupt you. That is what you look like. Innocent. " He shuffled forward and sat up so he could reach for him, fingers finding his to tug him in closer. " Are you sure you did not meet a pretty nurse who told you to shave? Are you leaving me? "

To  tell  the  truth,  he  didn’t  even  really  think  about  it;  it’s  easier  sometimes  to  just  shave  it  all  down,  and  he  doesn’t  even  really  realize  what  Aksel  is  protesting  for  a  good  bewildered  moment  or  two.  He’s  a  little  taken  aback  at  first,  setting  back  on  his  heels  with  brows  knit  in  a  befuddled  and  questioning  furrow,  and  he  stares  after  him  as  he  trundles  back  into  the  van.  

"  Wot  are  you  even  t——  "  But  then  it  registers,  and  he  blinks,  and  he  pouts.  "  I’ll  have  y’know  I  was  the  victim  of  a  terrible  accident,  y’insensitive  arse.  "  He  rolls  his  eyes  but  he  does  huff  an  exasperated  laugh,  and  he  heads  on  in  and  toes  off  his  boots  by  the  door.  He  scrubs  a  palm  over  his  bare  cheek  — and  honestly  it’s  already  a  little  rough  with  a  faint  shadow,  because  it’s  been  half  a  day  and  it  grows  fast.  

"  I  tried  t’trim  it  an’  the  cat  jumped  on  the  sink  and  tripped  an’  fell  in  the  water  and  flipped  a  shit  an’  I  slipped,  an’  there  was  no  comin’  back  from  the  slip  so  I  had  to  shave  the  whole  thing.  "  He  sighs.  "  Y’gonna  come  out  of  there?  "  He  peers  in,  and  adds,  soberly  and  cheerfully and crudely  and  not  at  all  seriously,  "  Yer  all  tucked  in  like  a  soft  dick.  "

[storywars-r]

1/24 - Nomad

(Xinjun Zhang)

Chapter 1 by R

It's probably one of the prettiest views this half of the city, one of the sole windows in the grand wall, looking out upon the other half. It's telling that the prettiest view is through a window, that even the beauty here is looking out at somewhere else. For now, this is where the Traveler makes their home.

No, not a home, because home implied permenancy, and above all else the Traveller was fluid, constantly moving. There were some this side who claimed a place their own, but it was dangerous workings.

Staying on your feet, ready to abandon everything you own, that meant survival. Hells, in this part of the city, you sacrificed pieces of yourself to keep on moving. The Traveller was missing legs, others arms and chunks of chest. A few had soul-traded, though the legitimacy of that was highly dubious.

An alarm sounded, echoing through the great wall. A door was opening, which meant someone was entering. The Traveller made their way down the ladders of the inner side of the wall, peeking over the edge to find the opening, where people rushed to see who or what had entered the slums.

Chapter 2 by Yusuf Usususf

The city guards had burst through the doors, unsurprisingly. It was another one of their damned raids that the people of the slums despised with a flaming passion. These guards never failed to make life in the slums more miserable then it already was.

The Traveler has made many questionable choices throughout their time in the city. You could say they've a small reputation of getting in places where no one else can but that's all pub speak. No one's actually been able to contact the Traveler because, as expected, they're always on the move, hidden away somewhere.

A part of the reason the city guards conduct these many raids on the city's slums is, of course, to find the Traveler and imprison them. Someone like the Traveler is too dangerous to be left alone to roam in the deepest, darkest corners of the city. That said, the city guard is a corrupt institution hell-bent on terrorizing and subduing the people of the slums and keeping them from rising up.

However, today's raid was extremely different from the rest.

Chapter 3 by BluNerd

"Disarm yourselves or be sent to the Chambers!" yelled the city guards upon barging through the doors. At this, all of the present city dwellers dropped all of their weapons without a word.

The city guards had a unique power, one that could not be explained by 21st century science. In fact, it could not be explained by any science other than that of the creator of the city guard.

"Dwayne B. Howard", a member of the guard droned in its monotonous voice. "Charged with the theft of two loaves of bread from the Central Market", it continued. "You have been read guilty".

At this, a smaller, but equally as fierce-looking guard picked up the man buy the collar of his falling-apart shirt and carried him through the door that the guard had entered through.

"Off to the Chambers with him!" said one of the guards happily. It's tone showed that maybe it still had enough human left in it to feel emotions. Evil emotions, but still emotions.

The reason that Dwayne B. Howard did not react to his (true) accusation was because he knew it would do nothing but worsen his sentence. To an outsider, it may seem there was no worse sentence than the Chambers, but they'd be easily corrected.

As this played out, the Traveler simply watched from atop a roof. At this moment though something that the Traveler did not think possible happened, something the Traveler did not think the guards were capable of doing.

"Subject T within 100 yards from here." said a guard in an unnervingly monotonous voice.

"City scum! Find the Traveler! He who finds the Traveler is rewarded with ten pounds of rice!" commanded a guard who appeared to be in charge.

The Traveler was astonished. She quickly racked her brain for any idea that could rid her from this situation. What astounded her more was when the city folks simply stood there, as if they were completely oblivious to what the guards had just said.

"Hmm. Oh well, guess you'll all be sent to the Chambers." said the guard that appeared to have some human left in him. The human left in him clearly wouldn't last long.

The traveler was amazed that tens of people just gave up their sanity to the City Guard for her. Taking advantage of this, she disappeared to a whole different corner of the city, to wait for the next time she needed to move.

Chapter 4 by BluNerd

A man is somehow surmounting the great wall that separates the utopia from the dystopia. He somehow finds footholds on the seemingly impossibly smooth stone. His grip is incredible. This man is searching for the Traveler. Not to turn her in, like most of the drunken searchers intend to do. No, this man needs her help. He knows how to find her, too. He was sentenced to the Chambers by a lone guard patrolling the street, a rare sight in the "utopia". Not knowing what to do, he ran, for surely those robotic legs couldn't keep up with him. Now thousands of posters with his face and the word "wanted" hang in the streets. And now, certainly, even a distopian city guard would arrest him.

He effortlessly climbed over the top of the wall, and then began the climb back down the other side. Easy, but time consuming he thought to himself.

Once he had reached the dystopia- not a feat many intentionally accomplished -he immediately began sprinting for what was left of the Akseller Building. The man, preferring to be called "Rocky", threw himself up the stairway as fast as he could, as the elevator was of course out of order. He knew exactly which floor- the 34th.

"Angela?" yelled Rocky.

"You know I don't like to be called names, Rocky." said the Traveler, sliding down the banister.

"Oh haha, very funny, I appreciate the pun", remarked Rocky extremely sarcastically.

"So, what do you want?" asked the Traveler.

"How do you know that I want something? Maybe I just wanted to come check up on my sister!" said Rocky, knowing how obvious that that wasn't true.

"Yep. Seriously, what do you want?"

"Err... So I kinda got sentenced to the Chambers. But then I ran away from the guard. And now I'm wanted." he said, ashamed.

"Sentenced?!? What for?!?" remarked the Traveler.

"Don't pretend that you aren't being hunted by the city guard on a daily basis. And err I'd uh rather not share why I got sentenced" mumbled Rocky.

"Hmm. Then I guess there'll be no help for you." she said, turning her back and walking in the opposite direction.

"Fine!" yelled Rocky.

"What was that?" said the Traveler without turning around.

"I'll tell you why I got sentenced."

She turned around, a smug look on her face. That trick always worked on her little brother.

"I sneaked into a dictator's house while he was sleeping and killed him." he said, embarrassed.

"How many dictators do they have over there, again?"

"'bout a hundred"

"No wonder you weren't wanted immediately" said the Traveler.

"What should I do?" asked Rocky nervously.

"Kill more dictators." said the Traveler matter-of-factly.

"How? I'm just one guy and anyone who sees my face'll-" Rocky tried to say but was interrupted.

"I'll help you." said the Traveler.

Chapter 5 by NapoleonDyna_fighttherussians

The traveler liked "they." "They" was less complicated, they had less expectations. They didn't have a specific way to walk, a specific way to laugh, a specific way to act around those of the opposite sex. The same went for the Traveler, the Traveler didn't have any obligations, any places to be.

Rocky, however, had many expectations

"...and I said to mom 'you know Angela, she'll talk to you when she's ready' and of course the woman starts crying..."

Rocky was getting on their last nerve.

"...so this guy—must've been seven feet tall—he comes up and swings at me, right? And so I grab his fist, stop it mid-air, and this brute he just gives me this look like 'what do you think you're doing' right before I flip him over the table..."

The sewer tunnel they were crawling down had great acoustics, and the Traveler could hear Rocky's voice coming at them from every direction. Both of them were constricted by the space, covered in things the Traveler didn't want to think about. They had maybe two feet of space in this shaft, and couldn't stand up any higher than being on their hands and knees. The steep angle of the shaft also meant that they had to focus very hard to keep moving forward at their snail's pace without slipping. All of this conspired to make it so the Traveler could not shut out Rocky and his ridiculous stories no matter how hard they tried. It was enough to get on anybody's last nerve.

"...and what does the woman do but slap me straight across the face, says—"

"Shut. Up." grunted the Traveler.

"Well you're not great company yourself, Ms. I'm-too-stoic-and-mysterious-to-hold-a-conversation," Rocky replied, in spirits far too good for someone who was covered in excrement.

"Shut up, because we're almost there, and I'd rather they didn't get a ten-minute warning that someone's coming because your nasal voice carries so far," they deadpanned.

"My voice is not nasal," protested Rocky, outraged.

"Shut up."

Rocky mumbled something indiscernible.

"Please."

"Fine."

They proceeded in silence from there, only the squish squish squelch squish sounds of their progress and the occasional scamper of a rat in the distance breaking the quiet. The Traveler thought maybe the stories hadn't been so bad.

Finally, they reached a grate. Squares of golden light filtered through the bars—sunlight had never looked so good. Taking a pair of heavy duty pliers from their belt, the Traveler clipped the edges of the grate until in fell with a slosh and a clatter into the tunnel below.

They clambered out. Rocky's eyes were wide with a look of fear that they had seen too often in their childhood. The Traveler pressed a hand to his shoulder, and a finger to their lips. Now was not the time.

This was a forgotten part of the city, for most. The warehouses here used to be full of amazing things, in another time. Crates of spices filled a few, beautiful, cutting edge fashion filled others, and amazing technologies that were the envy of the rest of the world filled the rest. That time was gone. Parts of warehouses were caved in. Many of those that offered shelter were filled with addicts, hooked on the latest drug. Next to the Traveler and Rocky, the word BIRTH was scrawled, taller than they were.

The Traveler led them down a winding street to a large iron door that seemed no different from the rest. Written in uneven lettering on the door were the words "loose cannon." The Traveler removed two screwdrivers from their belt, passing one to Rocky. Silently, they began removing the hinges of the door.

Eventually, the only thing holding the door in place was its own inertia. Things at rest tend to stay at rest unless acted upon by an external force. The Traveler was happy to provide that outside force.

The Traveler rammed the door down with a massive kick. Inside, the room was filled with thugs and miscreants, who started and reached for their weapons, one falling off his chair in surprise. Never let it be said that the Traveler didn't know how to make an entrance.

The Traveler strolled into the smokey haze of the room, ignoring the weapons pointed at them until they arrived at a desk at the far wall. Sitting behind this desk was an enormous man, maybe seven feet tall. Rocky recognized him as someone he might've inflated stories about, maybe someone whose fist he'd claimed to have stopped in mid-air.

The man's face was impassive as the siblings strode towards him. It only changed slightly as the Traveler slapped two large, ancient-looking coins onto the table.

"I believe you owe me a few favors," they said.

Chapter 6 by Shasta

The man took them, continuing to chew on his cigar. He examined them, turning them this way and that in the light.

The Traveler didn't have time for this. She had already spent to much time here. People knew her brother, and her mother. She had allowed herself to get too attached to a place.

The man grinned, chumming at his cigar. "What type of favors?"

"A pardon for a sentence to the Chambers," they said. It was not a question, nor was it a suggestion. It was a command.

The man was shocked. His eyes widened and his cigar dangled lifelessly out of his mouth. "Y-You think I have that type of clearance?"

The Traveler leaned over the table, eyes smoldering. "I know you do. The question is if you can. I've heard that you're on a leash-- can't do to much without having it cleared--"

"Silence!" the man yelled. "Of course, I can do it! Who's it for?"

"Him," they said, jerking their thumb back towards Rocky.

"Him?" the man asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"You know who he is?" the man said, opening a box.

"Who?"

"Head of the milita. He don't have nothing on him. He's not going to the Chambers, Traveler."

Rocky smiled. "Of course, I'm not. But you are, dear sister. Grab her!"

Around the room, everyone surged towards them.

[ccorinnef]

Halloween Art Throughout History

Hello my loves! I must first apologise (again!) for slacking with my blog posts. I’ve been really beating myself up about not writing more but I have been attempting to complete Inktober this year and I just couldn’t fit it all in.

I thought, since it is Halloween I could make it up to you by sharing twenty of the creepiest, spookiest, gruesomest paintings I could find.

[TRIGGER WARNING: Some of these paintings depict death, dead bodies, skeletons and blood]

Aksel Waldermar Johannessen - The Night

Aksel Waldemar Johannessen was a Norwegian humanist painter who focused on working class and unfortunate subjects. He is considered Norways ‘forgotten artist’ because he only gained recognition after his death. Johannessen trained in sculpture and painting and was able to make a living first as a furniture maker and then as a painter. He suffered as an alcoholic for many years and often painted himself into his work in an autobiographical attempt. “Thematic, the images are very ambitious ranging from the grotesque to the idyllic; from depictions of sexuality, violence, prostitution, alcoholism and war to idyllic and intimate work.” In this painting, his wife posed to become ghost-like figure standing in the park at night. The use of colour (dark background colours contrast with the bright blues and yellows of the figure) make this painting seem very spooky and creepy.

Henry Fuseli - The Nightmare

Henry Fuseli was born and grew up in Switzerland until he was forced to flee from a vengeful corrupt family; he explored Germany before ending up in England where he spent most of the rest of his life. Fuseli’s father, Johann Caspar Füssli, was a portrait and landscape painter. Having received a classical education in Zurich, Fuseli later paid his way by writing before Sir Joshua Reynolds advised him to pursue art. He was both Professor of Painting and Keeper at the Royal Academy of Arts in London. Fuseli is famous for his supernatural imagination; although he paints in a style consistent with Romanticism, his paintings are inspired by the paranormal. He was a master of light and shadow which he utilised to emphasise the drama in his paintings. The Nightmare portrays a “dreaming woman and the content of her nightmare.” This painting is often described as “a nightmare that causes nightmares”; it is a horrible representation of some of humanity’s deepest fears. Fuseli’s powerful use of light and shadow in this painting makes it very emotive to view; I can imagine myself in the place of the sleeping woman and feel genuine fear. This painting portrays a fear as old as humanity – the fear of not being safe while sleeping.

Katsushika Hokusai - The Ghost of Kohada Koheiji

Hokusai was a Japanese artist from the Edo period; his most famous artwork is The Great Wave off Kanagawa, a piece which I’m sure everyone has seen at some point in their lives. Hokusai began painting at a very early age, practicing the skills his father had as a mirror-maker for the Shōgun. During his teenage years, he was an apprentice learning wood carving, print making and painting. Throughout his career, he distinguished different artistic styles by changing his name for each one. This painting depicts a scene from a Japanese legend where a murdered actor haunts his wife and her lover. The figure is quite gruesome in is design; the skull still has some hair and skin attached. The painting is very eerie as the zombie actor peers through the mosquito net at his wife.

Francisco Goya - Saturn Devouring His Son

Goya is considered simultaneously as the last of the old masters and the first of the modern masters; during his lifetime he enjoyed great success as a Spanish Romantic painter and printmaker. He trained under José Luzán y Martinez and Anton Raphael Mengs, later securing a position with the Spanish Crown as a court painter. Following a severe illness which left him deaf in 1793 his work became darker and bleaker.  This painting depicts a scene from a Romanised Greek myth in which Saturn eats his children to avoid a prophecy that one of them will overthrow him. Goya painted this piece, along with thirteen others known as the “Black paintings”, with oil paints directly onto the walls of his home near Madrid. While he never intended these paintings to be seen by anyone, the painting of Saturn is particularly disturbing.

Francisco Goya - The Dog

Another of Goya’s ‘Black paintings’ is this one of a drowning dog. This stark and empty painting holds so much emotion; the scared dog is trapped between two oblivions of empty space. This sad and lonely painting depicts a dog that seems to be sinking instead of swimming and is at any moment about to be caught by a huge wave. The fear portrayed in his painting is one of helplessness – perhaps reminiscent of Goya’s own struggle with deafness and old age.

Francis Bacon - Study After Velázquez’s Portrait of Innocent X

Francis Bacon was an Irish-British painter renowned for his raw style of painting and his typically religious subject matter. Bacon was a late-comer to painting; he drifted through most of his life as an interior decorator, bon vivant and gambler. His artwork was often focussed on a single subject for extended periods of time. After the suicide of his lover, his artwork become “more sombre, inward-looking and preoccupied with the passage of time and death.” Throughout his career, Bacon returned to Velázquez’s Portrait of Innocent X, painting and repainting his own interpretations of the original. This study of the original is often viewed as Bacon’s “best pope.” His powerful use of a purple colour palette and lines turns Pope Innocent X into a horrific image shrieking almost ghost-like as he fades into the background.

Henryk Weyssenhoff - Premonition

Henryk Weyssenhoff was a “Polish-Belarusian landscape painter, illustrator and sculptor.” He was a descendant of the Livonian nobility but grew up in the Ural Mountains from the age of four after his father was exiled to Siberia. His first art lessons were from Lucjan Kraszewski. He graduated from the Imperial Academy of Arts in Saint Petersburg in 1885 with a silver medal and the official title of “Artist.” This painting is very ethereal; the purple colour palette and whispy brushstrokes work well together to establish spooky scene. The fog and smoke in the painting coupled with the eerie ghost-like figure in the centre and scared howling dogs make this artwork incredibly powerful. Looking at it, you can imagine the atmosphere and fear really existing.

Shawn Coss - Generalized Anxiety Disorder

While he has a background in emergency nursing, Shawn Coss is an incredible artist from Ohio who specialises in dark art. He is most popular for is work on the webcomic series Cyanide & Happiness. In 2016, he used the popular challenge Inktober to create a series of drawings which portray mental illness, Inktober Illness. The drawings all resemble alien humanoids (Doctor Who’s The Silence, anyone?) that embody the symptoms of each mental illness they are depicting. While these characters are definitely a bit creepy, the scary thing about them is how real they are in their portrayals. As someone who suffers from mental illness, being able to see my usually invisible illness validates my experiences and lets me know that I am not alone.

William Blake - The Ghost of a Flea

William Blake is most famously remembered for his poems however he also made a considerable amount of paintings. Blake’s paintings have philosophical and supernatural elements while still being in the style of Romanticism. This painting was inspired by a “spiritual vision” that Blake had; fleas contain the souls of men who were greedy and bloodthirsty. Blake’s representation of the flea as a humanised character could be suggesting the idea that humans possess horrible qualities or that humans and animals are no different. By painting this piece with dark and muted earth tones, Blake manages to make the flea appear incredibly creepy. This character is the stuff of nightmares, creeping through the darkness to its victims.

William Blake - The Great Red Dragon and the Beast from the Sea

Another spooky painting by Blake is this one of The Great Red Dragon and The Beast From The Sea. Blake takes his inspiration for this piece from the Bible’s Book of Revelations. This terrifying painting depicts a representation of the devil standing over a seven-headed sea beast. The dark and muted palette add to the horror and drama of this painting. I would not want to meet either of those creatures on a dark night!

Emil Nolde - Mask Still Life III

Emil Nolde was a German-Danish artist who practised expressionism. He was one of the first artists to begin experimenting with colour in oil and watercolour, and is now known for his frequent use of yellows and reds along with his expressive brushwork. While he worked in creative industries throughout his early adulthood, he only began to pursue becoming an artist in his thirties. This painting is a study of masks in the Berlin Museum; the brilliant colours and bold brushwork becomes a macabre and almost surreal painting.

Edvard Munch - The Scream

This artist is one of Norway’s most famous; Edvard Munch was a painter and printmaker who was inspired by psychological themes and expressionism. He was raised by his aunt and deeply religious father:  "My father was temperamentally nervous and obsessively religious—to the point of psychoneurosis. From him I inherited the seeds of madness. The angels of fear, sorrow, and death stood by my side since the day I was born." Munch suffered poor health throughout his childhood and began painting to ease his boredom as he was kept home from school. His imagination was overwhelmed by macabre visions inspired by ghost stories and religious dogma. He later attended the Royal School of Art and Design in Kristiania (Oslo). The Scream was inspired by a feeling he had as he was walking home one night while the sun set that nature was screaming. The blood red sky certainly heightens the horrible intensity of this painting as the figure “screams” with anxiety.

Salvator Rosa - The Temptation of St Anthony

Rosa was an Italian Baroque artist known for being a bit of a rebel. He studied art with relatives until his father’s death when he had to take over the care and financial support of his family. Following the advice of Giovanni Lanfranco, Rosa moved to work in Rome. When he returned to Naples he started exploring spooky landscapes in his artwork, painting romantic picturesque pieces. While he painted in a very classical style, the subjects he chose were often far more imaginative than was usual for his time. This painting depicts a scene from St Anthony of Athanasius’ biography where he was attacked by demons in the Egyptian desert. Rosa’s portrayal of the demons is particularly horrifying and terrifying.

Hans Memling - Hell

Hans Memling was a German painter working in the style of the Early Flemish painters. Memling was very successful during his lifetime; he became one of Bruges leading painters of religious portraits and diptychs. This painting depicts Memling’s interpretation of Hell and was intended to scare piety into members of the church. This terrifying painting shows a monstrous amalgamation of “man, woman, dragon, devil, bird and dog” dancing on top of its burning victims. The distinctly red colour palette lends itself to the religious imagery of hell as a place of eternal fire. This creepy painting must have certainly achieved its purpose – I definitely find the grotesque image spooky.

Andy Warhol - Big Electric Chair

Andy Warhol was an incredibly successful American Pop artist. He is often considered one of the most notable people of the 1960s; his work focussed on exploring the “relationship between artistic expression, celebrity culture and advertising.” This eerie painting depicts an electric chair alone in the middle of a desolate room. A sign on the wall read ‘silence’ as though a promise for those who await the chair. This terribly disturbing artwork is an ode to the cruelty of humanity. “Everything I do is connected with death.”

Théodore Géricault - Heads, Severed

This horrific painting comes from the work of French artist, Théodore Géricault. He was educated by Carl Vernet and Pierre-Narcisse Guérin in English sporting art and classical composition, respectively. While he was very talented, he was bored of Neoclassicism and instead painted in the Romantic style. What makes this particular painting so gruesome is the fact that the heads were found by Géricault in Paris Morgue. Obviously unafraid to study emotional and morbid subjects, he has tragically posed these heads as though they were simply sleeping. I think it is part of the human condition to be at once terrified and fascinated with death.

Salvador Dalí - The Face of War

Salvador Dalí is one of the most famous surrealist artists the world has known. The Spanish artist practiced in a range of mediums including painting, sculpture, film and jewellery. His imaginative and eccentric style lends itself to his surrealist work. This painting was created while Dalí lived in California inspired by the trauma of war. The infinity implied by the repeating faces inside the eyes and mouth seems to suggest a feeling of being haunted by the memory of people lost in the war that is never ending. In addition the portrait is painted against a stark and desolate background which could hint at the feelings of isolation associated with depression. Almost definitely representing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, this painting is haunting and emotional; the overall feeling is of being consumed by the mental illness left from the war. Dalí himself believed his work to be premonitions of the war to come.

Giovanni Boldini - Spanish Dancer at the Moulin Rouge

This Italian artist was known as the “Master of Swish” because of his loose flowing painting style. Boldini studied at the Academy of Fine Arts in Florence and while in Florence he met the Macchiaioli painters who had a profound influence on him. Most famous for his portrait paintings, Boldini also painted a range of other subjects such as landscapes. This incredibly expressive painting of a Spanish dancer at the Moulin Rouge perfectly captures the movement of dance. What makes this painting spooky is the fact that there are too many hands – there seems to be a ghost haunting the dancer.

Zdzisław Beksiński - Untitled

Zdzisław Beksiński was a Polish artist focussing on surreal dystopian art. His style is usually described as Baroque or Gothic with expressionistic elements. Beksiński trained in architecture but found that he didn’t enjoy it so he started exploring sculpture, photography and painting. His paintings often portray feelings of anxiety especially in his later more spooky artworks. This untitled ominous painting depicts two skeletons wrapped in each others’ embrace. Painted with dark earthy-red tones this powerful piece conveys a sense of the struggle between the struggle for life and the inevitability of death. I think this piece is particularly emotive because it plays into such a deep human fears.

Vincent van Gogh - Head of a Skeleton with a Burning Cigarette

And to end this post on a slightly more light-hearted note: this painting by Vincent van Gogh. He is arguably one of the most famous artists ever. The Dutch Post-Impressionist painter painted everything from landscapes to still life’s and portraits; he amassed over two-thousand paintings, most in the final years of his life. Van Gogh suffered from multiple mental illnesses, including depression, psychotic episodes and delusions, which saw him in and out of psychiatric hospitals. Van Gogh painted this piece while he studied at the art academy in Antwerp where anatomical drawings were a regular exercise. Instead of taking this exercise very seriously, van Gogh painted his skeleton with a lit cigarette in its teeth. I will always appreciate this slightly rebellious humour.

For more spooky art see here, here, here, here or here.

I hope you all have a fantastic Halloween!

[reseau-actu]

Netanyahu assure que son gouvernement est "stable"

Par AFP Vidéo,  publié le 15 février 2018 à 1h02.

Le Premier ministre israélien Benjamin Netanyahu a affirmé mercredi 14 février que la coalition sur laquelle repose son gouvernement était “stable”, malgré la menace d’inculpation pour corruption pesant sur lui.

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Article complet: 24matins.fr — https://www.24matins.fr/video/netanyahu-assure-que-son-gouvernement-est-stable-710809