#any way curly gang represent this is the kind of thing i think about a lot

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

wavy hair pericles save me..... wavy hair pericles. save me wavy hair pericles

[umaficwriter]

SOUVENIR IS AMONG US!

KALIJAH SMUT DARINGS! 

I was feeling like shit and started this weeks ago, finally came to finish it and kinda don’t give a damn about how it turned out, still, hope you like it! 

You can read it on AO3 or FFNET or even, down below this lovely gifs. 

The light breeze of a New York’ spring night passed through Katherine mahogany curly strands as she admired Jane and Greenwich street down ten floors below. She engulfed a full breath, filling her lungs with the not so clear night air, cigarette smoke coming from the party on full swing behind her.

The balcony was empty. She had compelled anyone that came in her direction away, so it would stay that way.

Finally, Katherine Pierce had piece of mind.

She had run for so long, firstly from her past in Bulgaria, then from Klaus and all that his figure entailed, then she ran from him when he found her. And then she had made her escape when he failed her once again.

Elijah Mikaelson.

Not her biggest mistake, nor regret, but close enough to discomfort to make chills arouse in her body when she recalled his figure. His suits represented an armor she once thought she would be able to penetrate. Oh, was she wrong.

For he could never be truly hers.

Elijah was like an expensive gift you bought someone, just to regret later you gave it away when in fact you wanted it to yourself, when on his part. he seemed to consider her, them a disposable souvenir.

New York back in August, tenth floor balcony Smoke is floating over Jane and Greenwich street

 Katherine leaned over the steel railing, aiming her vision to the busy Big Apple streets. Her heightened senses catching the environment around her. The faint smell of putrid trash from the alley couple blocks away, the blinding headlights of cars so tiny from where she stood. The wind picking up the hairs on her arms, giving her body an enjoyable hum. The cigarette smoke entering the balcony from the lounge party behind her, the smell of sweat and sex lingering in the air coming from the humans inside the giant apartment that wasn’t hers.

She should go back down to hell; she was its Queen after all. Mystic Falls people had been so naïve believing she would die after the tunnels caught fire…

She was Katherine Pierce, a survivor, of the upscale kind, caring for her life, being it as a vampire or otherwise.

She had woken up, without Stefan, completely naked in the throne that had been hers for sometime now.

A smile had creeped itself on her features, her limbs stretching as if she was a sated cat after a long afternoon nap.

Since then, she had given up on tormenting that filthy gang. Stefan was truly dead, although not in Hell, for Katherine’s dismay. She wished she could enslave him for eternity, albeit looked like it wouldn’t happen.

Shrugging, Katherine looked over her shoulder to the gathering inside the condo. She didn’t know anyone there, as expected, she didn’t live in this world anymore. She was just passing by the human land, and soon enough, she would go back to Hell to ruin her tormenting souls even more.

Another strong breeze floated the NYC night, and that was when she felt it.

At first, only a discomfort in the pit of her stomach, similar of when she was being followed, or observed. Case being the latter tonight.

Goosebumps from your wild eyes when they're watchin' me

The smell the wind brought was rich blood, expensive cologne, leather from Italian shoes, moving in her direction.

Her unliving heartbeat scaled, for she knew very well whom was walking inside the recently opened balcony glass’ doors, bringing the blasting music to her ears.

Katherine didn’t dare uttering words, she maintained her position as the man closed the doors behind him, muffling the sound from the party once more.

Was he to think she was her doppelganger?

Katherine would prefer he did not make that mistake. She also knew he would not.

His presence was enough to make shivers run down her spine. Katherine wasn’t fazed by what they had in the past. She had decided to bury those feelings deep inside, still he awoke a brutal wave of desire inside her. And as a supernatural creature, her emotions were as heightened as of a vampire, if not more, considering she fed from souls as well as blood. The latter just for reminiscing the thrill of the hunt.

Shivers dance down my spine and head down to my feet

The hot night wind picked up her skin and she hugged herself, running her hands through her arms, before directing her speech at him.

“The noble, family-oriented brother so far from home. I wonder why is that?” her voice was laced with sarcasm, although Elijah picked up a faint tone of hurting. He couldn’t blame her.

After Niklaus’ death, Elijah had bid his family goodbye and decided against settling in New Orleans. Marcel had claimed his throne back, for being king had never been Elijah’s call.

Hope was attending the Salvatore Boarding School and he didn’t see the need to disturb his niece education, still he visited her and even took her to vacations when the time called for it.

Elijah had chosen traveling the world instead, although always coming back to the US for his supernatural business, New York to be precise.

The city always brought good memories into his troubled mind.

It reminded him of the second woman he had loved. So deeply, her name remained engraved in his heart and soul.

Elijah was aware he didn’t have any right to claim her, nor search for Katerina, so he had not.

He had talked to Alaric once about her whereabouts and it was then he had discovered of her last attempt in destroying them. They believed she had died in the fire.

Elijah never had.

She hadn’t the first time in 1864, she wouldn’t have this time around.

Still, imagine his surprise when he caught her silhouette in the veranda at a party one of his associates was throwing.

He wasn’t to attend, he never did. Petty, unimportant things he would justify. Except, this night he was strangely bored by his usual book and wine program, hence his presence.

Elijah couldn’t say he regretted it.

From the moment he walked into the large apartment, loud music and abusive expanse of drugs had surrounded him. The Original had gone to the bar and ordered various doses of whiskey, before his business subordinate had found him, urging him to mingle around the gathering, and have a proper drink.

Elijah had bled various wrists inside his glass, being slightly intoxicated by substances within the blood he fed from.  

And that was when he saw her.

Alone over the balcony, her slender body hugged by a lace black dress, her hair in soft waves adorning her stance and stopping over the middle of her spine.

That was, without a shadow of doubt, Katerina Petrova.

“Niklaus is dead,”

“I know,” she turned around to finally face him. “Lucifer fed from his soul,” Elijah saw the faintest of smiles quirking over her lips.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I assure you, he doesn’t remember who he is, so it’s no fun torture him,” she justified, for she knew that was what he wanted to know. “Although, he deserves it anyway, for everything he caused me,”

Elijah looked down at his expensive shinny shoes.

“Apologies are never going to fix that,”

“No, they won’t,” agreed the brunette woman.

“And what you’ve been up to?” the trivial question floated from the man’s mouth as he moved beside her and leaned his back over the steel banister.

Katherine mirrored his position with her wine glass in hand and almost scoffed with his bluntness. It was clear he already knew what she had been up to.

“You already know, skip the small talk, what is it you want from me?” she questioned before downing the last of her drink, setting her glass over the nearest surface. “I mean, aside from everything you’ve already taken, obviously,”

He deserved that; he also would take it.

“I’ve got word you’ve been ruling over Hell, although I was never certain of the veracity in this tête-a-tête,”

She rolled her eyes. Elijah was much smarter than that.

“You want to know about my line of work?” she asked a little taken aback, after all, what kind of mundane questioning was that?

“Well, you don’t seem too keen talking about our past, do you, Katerina?” he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes.

She gave him that credit.

He wanted a civil conversation? She could do that.

“I feed from blood just for the rush of it, although what I really need, all inhabitants from Hell for that matter, to survive is: souls.”

He nodded in understandment. “Any soul?”

Katherine shook her head “Supernatural souls,”

The pair didn’t utter a word for a little while.

“How’s your life without your brother?” she questioned. For anyone knowing their history, would claim she was only being cruel. Maybe a little bit yes, but Katherine really wanted to know how he felt.

Maybe she refused her devoted heart from breaking, but she still held Elijah dear. The Petrova only had a different way of showing it.

“Never thought life could be this calm,” he honestly answered, a ghost of a smile dancing in his features.

She smiled and turned her face at him.

“Do you miss him?” she already knew the answer, still she couldn’t avoid it from going out there.

“You already know the answer to that, Katerina,”

“True,”

“At first, I couldn’t stop thinking about him,” Elijah prompted and crossed his arms and legs in front of him. “but then, time has passed, and grief ran its course…” he paused “now he’s a pleasant and hurtful memory,”

“Just as me, I presume?”

He turned his upper body at her, unfolding his arms and passing his hands through his short brown hair.

“Just as you were half an hour ago,” he confirmed.

“You really did give up on us, didn’t you?”

He let out a heavy shudder “I couldn’t promise you anything, they’re were broken words, like stiches. It was shattered glass we could not put back together to perfection, so I let you be,” she didn’t turn her head back at him. “I’ve never forgotten about you, if that’s what you’re asking.”  

“You never came to say goodbye,” he didn’t respond to that “you know, Damon showed me a version of you with me, when I was in my deathbed, then you dissipated into his face and he promised he would kill you,”

“I’d like to see him try,”

“He’s human now,”

Elijah seemed surprised in hearing that piece of news; Alaric had never mentioned that, also he had never asked.

He turned to face the sky and the street ten floors down, she didn’t mirror his posture this time.

“What should I call you? To summon you.”

She let out a chuckle.

“That’s not how it works, Elijah,”

His name floating from her lips, made him aim his looks at her and smirk in amusement.

“You didn’t respond me, what is it Katherine and Katerina do?”

The woman looked down at her Jimmy Choos’ and folded her arms in front of her lace covered chest.

“Katherine rules Hell with iron fists, has no mercy whatsoever, never had, but when she comes up to the land of the living, she drinks nice wine, walks long distances…”

“What about Katerina?”

“She cooks,” they both smiled at that “and read lots of romance novels that remind her of what she never had,”

“You did have love,”

“You, then Stefan, then you again,” she pointed out unfolding her arms and counting on her fingers to emphasize. “and look how that turned out,”

Elijah looked away back into the beautiful night.

“What is it you want, Elijah?” it was her turn to question.

“Right at this moment?”

She turned her head in his direction. His eyes were locked with hers, his nose almost touching hers, his breath dancing in her face.

“Yes,” she whispered looking down through her lashes, just to look inside his eyes once more.

“You,” he whispered back and didn’t gave her time to refuse him as he advanced his lips to touch hers in a long kiss.

Katherine’s arms wrapped around his shoulders as their kiss deepened, his tongue invaded her mouth in a ferrous battle while his arms circled her waist in a vice grip, bringing her closer with nothing in between them aside from their clothes.

Elijah let out a groan when she bit his lower lip hard making it bleed, which she latched on looking up at him through her long lashes. He hissed and used one of his hands to grip the rail when she descended one of hers to the front of his trousers, fondling his half-hard member.

“Katerina,” he nibbled on her earlobe, while he moved her hand. His whisper sounding needy, and that was what he was indeed.

Elijah moved his mouth to her neck descending to the feminine jaw, ‘till he reached her plump lips again, but Katherine had other plans in mind.

The brunette woman pushed him away, until his back hit the far corner of the veranda. Elijah new what was to come. Usually, he would give her pleasure first, but she looked irrefutable into having him the way she wanted.

Katherine unzipped his slacks while attacking his mouth, his hands gliding along her slim arms, arousing modest shudders from her.

You're giving me chills at a hundred degrees

 She separated herself from his mouth and descended her body, kneeling in front of him. Freeing his length from its cloth prison, Katherine looked up at him and smirked deviously.

“Now you’ve summoned me, I must show you the extent of my abilities,”

Elijah smirked back at her, and it transformed into a board smile when he felt her hot mouth on him.

Her lips surrounding his penis felt amazing. Her skilled tongue swirling around him, making him murmur with excitement, while she bobbed her head making him harder than he was before.

His member pulsating inside her mouth made Katherine heart beat faster, he was delicious, and the sensations she was causing him, the sounds he was making as he slowly let himself relax, encouraged her to suck him harder and faster.

Her mouth left his member, as Elijah grabbed the back of her head, moving her face away from his lower region and bringing her to him, to engulf her in a passionate kiss.

Elijah spun her around and made her sit on the steel railing. With a swift move, he moved her panties away and ran his fingers through her folds, feeling how ready she was, he inserted two fingers, while she gripped his suit clad arms with such force Elijah didn’t know if it would heal as fast as it should.

The Original kept his slow pace, and when he felt her walls clenching his digits, he removed them from her, receiving a disapproving wail.

Katherine reopened her eyes only to close them shut, as Elijah replaced his fingers for his engorged shaft, filling her up with a strong thrust.

“Oh God!” she proclaimed and held his shoulders tighter.

“If saying that was wrong before, I can’t imagine how much more it is now,” he mocked as he kissed her neck and Katherine smirked, sighing as he moved almost all out of her, just to pump back in with another hard thrust.

She guided her mouth to his neck and moved his shirt collar away, biting him hard, while he started moving frenetic into her, searching their deliverance.

As their breathing shallowed signalizing their approaching climax, Elijah moved them to the glass doors.

Neither giving a damn about someone watching them.

Katherine’s back hit the surface hard, while she let out a moan appreciating the pain and feeling Elijah’s penis never leaving her aching core.

The man stopped his pace and observed the woman in his arms.

Her chest moving up and down, her face flushed and her lower lip between her teeth.

Katherine opened her doe orbs and looked straight into his.

All sounds dulled around. Her blood pumped hard against her hot skin.

“Tell me what you want,” he prompted in a throaty whisper, his whiskey-blood-laced breath hitting her face, his words transforming her insides into puddle.

She smirked and leaned her head ‘till her mouth touched his earlobe, pulling it with her teeth.

“I want you to finish what you started and fuck m-“

Elijah thrusted deep while Katherine swallowed her words.

An almost animalistic groan left her lips while he continuedly kept going, the hot friction creating a delicious sensation, building more and more, until the stars in the night sky mingled with the ones behind her closed eyelids.

Katherine didn’t speak his name when she came, although he whispered hers in a prayer to the devil herself.

His seed ran down her thighs as he collected himself and helped her lower her dress.

Neither elaborating on what had just happened.  

Calling your name, the only language I can speak Taking my breath, a souvenir that you can keep

 They met again two months later.

Mid October’ sundown shone beautifully over New York skyline while Katherine Pierce sashayed into the luxurious hotel lobby.

Elijah had invited her into his apartment in the 5th avenue, although the she-devil wanted to keep things carnal only, and frequent his place was opposite to that.

So, she had suggested a random hotel.

Knowing full well he would choose the one they’d stayed when looking for the Cure a lifetime ago.

Sunset tower lobby, waiting there for me

 And there he stood.

In all his glorified tailoress. Armani suit, combed back hair, elegant and subtle. Not giving away what was about to happen a few floors up in just a couple instants.

At the sound of high heels on the marble floors, Elijah looked up, smiling at the figure approaching.

He was hopeful she would come, as a good serve he waited so. Although regarding the possibility she could not.

Fortunately, he had been wrong.

They don’t greet using words, but he ghosts a hand on the small of her back, as he guided them to the elevator. Her hand grazes his upper thigh when they enter the gold metal box, he stands behind her, hovering over his new favorite thing in the world.

Guess she always has been, he only had just remembered one of the reasons why.

Katherine waits for the elevator to shut its double doors, before turning her neck to look over her shoulder, encountering his face inches from hers.

She smirks with the proximity that wasn’t uncomfortable anymore.

She leans up and captures his lips with hers in a sensual kiss. Her tongue darts out to touch his and that’s when Elijah moves them to the lift’s wall, his hands multiplying as he tried and touch her every inch at the same time.

Katherine’s head hangs back as he explores her neck with his mouth, only a hint of his fangs coming out to play and that pulls a moan from her throat.

When the transport dings its destination, he reluctantly breaks their contact, and lets her out into the presidential floor first.

In the elevator, fumble for your key Kissed in every corner, Presidential Suite

Opened a Bordeaux from 1993

 When Elijah opens up the room’s door, contrary of what Katherine thought, he does’t jump right back at where they left.

He aims his steps to the light’ switch and dims it, leaving the room in a comfortable yellow glow.

Outside the twilight shows itself purple and orange, subtly letting the night in.

Elijah goes for the glass’ center table, and only then she notices the wine bottle as well as two glasses siting there.

He had thought everything through then, huh?

What did he think this was?

A reconciliation encounter?

Even with those questions inside her head, she collected her tongue and accepted the wine glass when he offered it to her.

“My favorite,” she quips after tasting the grape fermented juice.

He sheepishly smiles at her , downing his own drink.

Putting her glass aside, she goes to him. Her walk purposeful, her heeled feet tapping on the hardwood floors, her hips swaying, and Elijah appreciates the sight.

Elijah deposits his glass by the side table and backings until he reaches the king sized bed.

“And now what?” he quips, his voice low and husky as he leans back, sitting on the mattress, his chin up high to face her standing figure.

“I though you had it all figured out, my Lord,” she taunts, tilting her head and smirking at him.

Elijah chuckles and meets her cockiness.

“Oh, but I do,”

Katherine’s eyes go wide, her lips forming an ‘o’.

“Is that so?” she pushes and leans herself forward, her hands gripping his parted knees.

Elijah’ smile doesn’t leave his face as he contemplates her mannerisms.

Katherine’s face is closer now, her wine hot breath blows on his face, as he looks through his lashes at her plump lips.

How he missed touching her.

But he lets her have her fun, looking back into her cocoa orbs.

Like a cat she’s slow on her actions, calculating every slight move while she climbs in bed straddling his thighs.

Her eyes never leave his and their wordless communication turns her on just as much as his touch.

Speaking of, why wasn’t he?

“Afraid I’m gonna burn you?”

“If anything is I who burns for you, Katerina,” he justifies, his head going to the hollow of her neck and shoulder, grazing his teeth there.

She hisses with the caress and her hands travel from his knees to his shoulders, moving his suit jacket away from his frame.

With his tongue darting out to taste her neck, Elijah whispers in her ear

“Delicious just as the forbidden fruit,”

“Rich, since you’re tasting the devil herself,”

He chuckles again and takes a yelp out of her sinking his fangs deep into her flesh and vamp speeding them to the nearest wall.

The coherence escapes the doppelganger as the sensations of shared blood curse through her body.

Her legs are wrapped strongly around her lover’s waist and his member is pressing between her jean-clad legs, and it feels like heaven, more so when unconsciously, Elijah starts to thrust forward into her.

“Oh, yes…” her breath is caught up her windpipe.

The sharp nails tinted black she possesses go to his man shirt and tear the fabric apart to find his bare back and scratch it with will.

His groan as he moves his head from her jugular is guttural and makes her chill in excitement.

Elijah’s fangs are out, his lips red from her blood and the veins around his eyes are prominent.

He’s the beast she wants and when she goes to kiss him, he trumps her, enveloping them in a bruising lip locking.

The Original dismisses her jacket and blouse like rag, although leaves her bra on, vamp speeding them back to bed, throwing her over the soft surface.

Katherine gets rid of her jeans and boots as the man does the same with his garments, leaving only his boxers on.

If she was to be the she-devil, he certainly was a Greek God.

Elijah’s body was built, strong and as his fangs subsided, his beauty screamed old world elegance, even more so alluring with his bloody face.

He’s standing at the foot of the bed, staring at her hungrily, his chocolate irises almost didn’t show such was his lust.

Katherine knew better than thinking her eyes were any different.

She knelt over the bed. Her hair tousled, lips parted, black lace adorning her flawless body.

Neither moved further.

It was a battle of sorts.

Who would give in first?

Katherine didn’t like losing.

Although she despised wasting time.

And thinking of that she makes her crawling to him.

A hunting peer.

She was the beast now.

Her lips reach for him.

She kisses his navel, going up to his stomach as she feels his muscles contracting there. She looks up and Elijah has his eyes half opened, trying to fight the urge to let it completely go.

Katherine giggles mischievously and ascends her kisses to his nipples, as he finally touches her again.

His hands going directly to her breasts and squeezing them through the fabric of her bra.

Katherine’s nose is nuzzling his jaw as she hums her approval. The wetness of her tongue darts out to taste her dried blood of his face, her hands running through his hair while she pulls that back, making his neck available for her to taste.

And drink.

And as she laps her tongue, filling her body with rich Original blood, Elijah moves her panties out of the way, inserting a long digit inside of her.

Katherine stops her feeding to moan into his neck while he joins another finger in.

“Don’t stop…” she pleads and he has no intention to whatsoever.

Just as expertly, her skilled hands take his briefs off the way, the heat of her palm in contact with his erect shaft.

Elijah lets out a grunt while moving his ministrations in her pussy faster, seeking her release just as she does his.

The scene was sensual, erotic in its maximum, the blood she spills when she comes with a loud wail runs down his neck and chest, just as her juices travel down his hand and wrist.

She’s panting, in her mind only his face and form.

With a strong tug, the eldest vampire alive takes off her bra, throwing the material carelessly behind him and pushes his Katerina down onto the now stained red sheets, as his head and lips descend on her hard nipples.

He plays with them, biting and soothing it after with a blow, making her writhe beneath him.

“Lijah…” she implored.

But for what?

For him to make her cum again?

For the Original vampire to let her go?

Was she begging for release? Of what kind?

Katherine liked to think herself headstrong, but when he touched her like this, doing what only he knew how and for how long and how intense, she couldn’t straight her thoughts. Every pierce of knowledge she knew of flew through the window and the only thing left were the increasing sensations.

She didn’t know how to love anymore.

For if she did, this would be their lovemaking.

As it always has been.

Although, Elijah certainly awakened something inside her being.

Something he knew how to tame.

Calling your name, the only language I can speak Taking my breath, a souvenir that you can keep

Slowly letting her flesh mounds go, Elijah trailed down kisses until he was facing her wet entrance.

Katherine’ soft gasps echoed around the room as the man sucked her clit and gripped her thighs so forcefully, restraining himself from devouring her in one go.

Teeth grazed sensible skin and his breath oh so close washed away every curse she had in mind to praise him.

The woman could only make wonderful sounds as she moved her hips in encounter with his face.

“So sinfully divine,” he complimented, shifting his position to kiss her inner thighs not allowing her to come a second time.

“Says the saint,” ironized the girl her hands up gripping the sheets, her boobs moving with her heavy breathing.

Elijah chuckled in response.

“Am not. Regardless, Katerina let me blessedly cherish you just as such,” a raised eyebrow and a light lift of his lips, as well as those chocolate irises were all Katherine had time to process, before he was plugged to her, filling her to the hilt.

Her surprised shriek, followed by a whisper of his name fueled Elijah to take himself all out and thrust with no mercy once again.

“Fuck! Yes!” she exclaimed closing her eyes with the wonderous building up sensation growing on her lower abdomen. Circling her legs around his middle, draping her arms over his shoulders, Katherine moved her hips in encounter to his.

Male hands were everywhere as he fucked her deep. His mane being tousled by her fingers as she grunted in his ear.

“You’re such an obedient subject,” she played with the words, nibbling his earlobe as their bodies shook with the force of their bang.

He moved his head from her neck to look at her, a glimmer shinning in his beautiful eyes, as he moved her away from him.

Katherine was to open her mouth in protest, only a moan came instead when he palmed her pussy and flipped her on her stomach.

“However, I might cherish you the way I choose to,” the sultry velvet pouring out of his mouth, as well as his fingers assaulting her labia were enough to make her body shudder in a second orgasm.

Katherine was almost begging for him to enter her again.

Almost.

She bit her lower lip and enjoyed as he so subtly ran the tip of his penis along her entrance.

“Enough teasing,” she commanded after an instant, albeit her body moved back and forth to try and get him inside of her.

“And what do you want me to do, Katerina?”

Maybe she should be preoccupied this man could replace her as the devil, he certainly knew about torture.

On her hands and knees she turned her head back, her long curly hair slapping the bed, and watched the precum dripping from him.

Tempting.

“You’re gonna fuck me, with that gorgeous cock of your-“

Her hands automatically sought the wooden headboard as the vampire reentered her from behind efficiently.

A ragged breathy moan accompanied by a wave of pleasure shook the doppelganger as he deliberately inserted himself in and out of her.

His hands firm on her waist guiding her to the rhythm of his groaning.

“Katerina,” he loudly whispered seeking them both their ultimate bliss.

The sound of his palm colliding with her buttchecks made her yelp in surprise and laugh in delight.

She always liked it rough and Elijah knew it. That was exactly why he full fisted pulled her hair back as he increased the speed of his thrusts.

“Say that I fuck you like no one else does,”

She closed her eyes when his breath hit her ear. A wide cat smile appearing on her features when he enveloped her neck in his hand, aiming for lightly choking her while still moving, only slower now.

“Like you needed the reassurance,” she shot back with a groan when he went deeper.  

Elijah smiled closing his hand tighter around her slim neck.

“I want to hear you say it,” he prompted taking his member almost all off and going in slapping their bodies together.

“Yes!” she chocked hanging her head back.

Elijah felt her walls clenching around him, so he retreated himself letting his fangs come out once again.

Katherine moaned in pleasure when his vampire teeth sank on her shoulder, his moves slow and languid.

This was to be the most amazing torture out there.

She wanted to let go, although without ever leave.

“Harder,” her command was clear and he bit her deeper on her shoulder.

“Faster!” she pleaded against her better judgment and felt his balls hitting on her pussy.

It was animalistic the way he was having her. Devouring her in all ways he could. Mind, body and soul.

He didn’t know if he would have her again, so he would prolong it the best he could.

“Say it, Katerina,” he quipped blowing on her ear, the blood dripping from his fangs on her glistening bare back.

Her mouth formed an arch in bliss with his never stopping but oh so slow moves.

“You have me like nobody else does,” she whispered in surrender, feminine hands back at the headboard, while his traveled back down from her neck to her waist.

“Now, I shall the devil to heaven,”

She laughed while he sank himself deep and hard into her wet inviting hole.

Their juices mixing as they both watched the lights dancing in front of their eyes.

Katherine came first in a trembling cry, her curly head hanging low as she felt Elijah cock explode inside of her.

You're giving me chills at a hundred degrees

Her body felt like the sun kissed it as they both laid spent between the blood smeared sheets.

Elijah had the sweetest of smiles, as if he hasn’t been the most pervert beast only a couple minutes prior.

Her hair was plastered on her sweated forehead and the man beside her moved his thumb to take it away from her face.

Katherine offered him a sated smile and wrapped her leg around him.

“What would you say about becoming my sex slave?”

Elijah laughed with that and leaned to bless her lips with his in a brief kiss.

“I would say you need to test drive the vassal again,” his voice sensual as they locked eyes and a smile appeared in her own face.

“Just to be sure I made a good deal?”

He nodded in agreement his hand traveling the side of her body, his fingers featherlight on the side of her breasts as he thrusted his hip into hers.

Katherine’s hands went to his short hair.

“Just to be sure,” he finally said sinking his head down for another kiss.

[mistaeq]

Guido Mista: Just For Fun?

TW // nsfw content !!

Sssooo... this had to be a fic due on Mista's birthday, but I got killed by work and assignments and stuff, and could never manage to finish, but tonight I took a little time and concentrated on it properly before it was really TOO late. Enjoy~ ^_^

Guido Mista having a SPICY time with a neutral!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.04k

It felt so good. Damn, it felt so good. You weren't even sure there was love for you, by his side. But you wouldn't have stopped him for any reason. The gunslinger had come to you to tell you about Bucciarati's orders for the day. You had to show up at Passione's headquarters in a couple of hours, so, just for the sake of not getting bored in the meantime, you invited Mista in your house to have a chat. Unfortunately, or maybe luckily, the two of you seemed to have other plans in mind.

The things about the man exploring your body with his gaze, wasn't new to you. You'd been noticing this before, at work, outside, and in general. And it wasn't like you weren't interested in Mista's attention, you just couldn't help but thinking that having relationships with colleagues wasn't the best choice you could make. Little did it matter in that moment, realizing the two of you would have had to make up a believable excuse for your late arrival at Passione's headquarters.

"G-Guido!" bringing your thoughts cruelly back to the present, the gunslinger thrusted inside of your spent hole for one last time, without either of you coming. It had been a strong thrust, without mincing words, not slow and definitely not gentle, rough enough to hear you raise your voice for him. You just liked this thing about Mista being so mercilessly rough, and you couldn't tell you weren't expecting something like this from a man like him. You had stayed still until you felt his shaft come out of your sensitive body. And despite that, you had remained folded on the bed, because you knew him, Guido Mista would have never let you in peace so easily. Oh, he still had so much to do, with your body, after so much time of waiting and pushing it back.

Just in general, he liked to insist and keep going, starting from the most absurd and almost useless things, in any situation, like telling everyone about the fact that Narancia - he had told about it at least five times, once for every Bucciarati Gang ​​member, him and Narancia excluded - had once scared him late at night during a sleepover by his house. The truth is, if we really want to keep a solid and actual comparison, that Mista guy's brains almost worked like his good companion's, Narancia. He probably soaked up some parts of his behavior, too. The most messed up ones, if I'm allowed to say that.

A kind of soul of the party, without them the boredom used to make itself easy to be felt, or in any case it made his absence noticed when nobody laughed or joked, but sexually speaking, to stay in the italian area, there is a valid and comparison with the loud mess you can find in Naples's markets and squares, too. People screaming, people yelling, someone laughing and a neverending music you don't even know where to locate. Oh, and food. Plenty of food. Don't ask an italian to skip a meal, folks. You were now being Guido's three course meal, rather than a snack.

You felt yourself being touched in a way that was anything but chaste by the strong hands of the curly, dark haired boy. It was the representation of a proper Gold Experience, to finally see the hair hidden under that hat of his, and you had to admit that sinking a hand inside of it was amazing. Plus, it perfectly represented his explosive personality. Mista's eighteen years of age - by now - surely influenced his amount of stamina and strength, he had arms that deserved the respect for which they had been designated by his genetic make-up, evidently. As if some foreplay and ministrations were necessary, after the previous hellish - or perhaps heavenly - hour in which nothing else had happened, other than the young italian roughly and ferociously pushing his length into your body, you felt his long and calloused fingers enter your needy hole, not so much time to waste and not many premises to make. Oh good lord.

"Guido..." your soft voice moaned, bending your head forward, then forced to pull it back up when you arched your back due to the sudden but perfect points that the boy's experienced fingers dared to touch.

"Right here...? You want it right here?" he teased. Oh, he had fun teasing. All the gunslinger wanted was to hear you beg for him to give you the pleasure you needed, and he knew where to touch to get you ruined for him. His fingertips grazed against a special spot, once, twice, and he laughed it over, looking at you curling up your fingers everytime, little moans coming out of your throat, your hands gripping on the bedsheets. "Damn tesoro, you're so sensitive..." he said in his hateful, proud, signature mocking tone.

"...O-Oh my god, Guido... this might be the third time you do it... right there..." but that sentence did not last long, considering the gunslinger's intentions, who bent down to use his experienced tongue where before only his fingers were. Fuck that guy and his stupid attitude. Fuck his behavior, fuck his warm tongue, penetrating your needy hole along with his fingers, leaving you speechless and breathless every second more. At least a dozen times, surely, you insulted him, cursing and groaning under the wet and beautiful contact of the boy's lips and tongue as they worked on you. You would have lied, if you said you hadn't dreamt of this before.

Given the position you were now in, when you were too quiet or too noisy for your dirty lover's liking, the size of Mista's hands came in handy, to spank you and startle you enough to react and oblige to his will. He wasn't very gentle, as a sexual character. Let's say that he enjoyed leaving his masterpieces incomplete. Like that orgasm of yours which was very little time apart from exploding, for example. When he withdrew his hands and tongue drom you, you couldn't hold back from complaining... probably too much for the man's liking. "F-Fuck! I was so damn close..." you squealed, disappointed, and let your tongue speak for yourself, shivering because of the current emptiness of your hole. "Why have I chosen to have sex with you... I could have paid someone from the street... or maybe a colleague of yours... hm?"

You had gone too far. At those words, you felt Guido grab your hair in a tight grip. Not too much to seriously hurt you, but enough to fuel your arousal even more. You can't say you haven't obtained exactly what you were looking for. "Excuse me, or better... excuse you, do you mind repeating what you just said, cara/o?" Damn, that turned you on so much. Obey him. Just obey him. You thought, until the brat part of you took over.

"N-no... I ..." you slightly turned towards him, and unexpected as it was, but incredibly hot, his member was right in front of the tip of your nose, right now. You stared at it, bouncing in front of you. Average length, but interesting girth, nothing to say. A good one. You wouldn't have minded to choke on it. "Nothing... I said nothing."

"Nuh-uh, I heard you, little fucker." he pulled you closer to him, his leaking tip now grazing on your cheek, leaving a slightly humid trail behind it. Mista's grip on your hair tightened. "Repeat for me, will you...?" he cooed, faking a soft and calm tone of his voice. Then, he clenched his teeth. "What could you do, you said?" For a split second, you thought about how Bruno was probably waiting for you at Passione's headquarters, and there you were instead, with Mista's cock hanging in front of your face.

"Nothing. I couldn't do anything..."

"Good. That's what I like to hear." with a further squeeze he made you moan and cry out, taking the opportunity to push his leaking member into your mouth. You felt yourself suffocate, Mista had no small one at all, to be completely honest, he was far from it. And you madly liked him, not only for that, also as a person. On a psychological and personal level. Nice, funny, serious when needed - maybe-, and absolutely beautiful. How many people would have sold their soul to the devil, to spend a single night with Naples's forbidden dream - or at least he said so. He probably made it up for his own self-esteem -? He also tasted good, to be honest. Details like those were important, too.

You soon understood that the only way to not to feel too bad with his strength and stamina, was to go along with his desires seriously, and thanks to this little thought that for an hour now had been helping you with Guido's sexual cravings, you brought a hand to the man's member, to help with your hands your work on him. You saw him start to move his hips towards your mouth and back, that choking sensation intensified even more due to the fact that Mista's hips thrusted forward as you bent down on him, yet as much as your eyes could water and tear up, the man's proud moans only hinted at how much it actually excited him, to see you struggle and choke on his length. "Dammit... don't give me those teary eyes... I'm gonna fucking cum." And, deep down, it was a good fuel to your own arousal. But you wouldn't have dared to tell Guido, or you would have made him brag for ages about it.

His movements got to a sudden halt, when the gunslinger reached his high, in the depth of your throat, as his own breath hitched with yours. "Fuck, y/n...!" It was very deep, and due to the choking sensation, your soft face already had two hot, heavy and salty tears running down your cheeks, not really from pain but from exertion, that guttural effort you usually make when you have to throw up, when you yawn and when you cough. Every action that, even if minimal, brings the eyes to that moist, thing layer that, straining even more those feelings, makes it become tiring and uncontrollable tears. You felt Mista's warm cum run down your throat. Still, you took the chance to taste it properly. It was so good. Another thing you wouldn't have told Guido.

It was a different sensation, compared to when you swallowed it down yourself. Or at least it was, in other experiences you had, but you were wondering if it wasn't Guido's presence, making you feel in some sorts of ways. Anyways, by swallowing down yourself, you were fast enough to not to feel the need to cough. But this way, the warm fluid flowed dramatically slowly, along the walls of your throat, down, while you only wondered when you would stop feeling it moving in your lower neck and upper chest. The satisfied look on Mista's face, who was now approaching you again, after having pulled his member out of your tender mouth, spoke by itself, and said a few simple and easily interpretable words on the line of "You will feel this warmth also somewhere else, soon." and perhaps you weren't even really complaining about it.

Even if you hoped for it to not to be that intense and strong. Too bad it would have been such, but Mista knew what he was doing, so you just chose to let him do his thing to you. "...If you do want it, it is." oh. The fact that he made sure you were still agreeing to it, caused a weird warmth to pop up in your chest. Dominant Guido was a good Guido, but respectful Guido was the best version of him. You just smiled, and quickly nodded. Of course you wanted more. You felt your legs get grabbed and opened by strong and calloused hands, you were still ready and sensitive for him, despite all the times you had come for him that evening. And despite all the times he had denied you an orgasm.

He slipped his hard length inside of you without hurting your sensitive hole too much, or maybe it was just you who were already too used to keeping that damned neapolitan inside of your body, for that night. And you thanked God for it, otherwise it would have been quite painful. A beautiful pain, in any case. First thrust, Mista groaned very loudly, clenching his teeth. One day you'll complain to him, about the fact that he'll be expecting too much time from you to dedicate to having sex. "But you can stretch your muscles like this," he'll insist, looking for a bright side or a diversionary way to respond to your grip on him against the wall. You held on the bedsheets and bit your lower lip, keeping a moan from coming out.

Second thrust, even stronger. You began to even pull on the bedheets because of the gunslinger's cock, grazing just on the right spots, the spots only him could brag about being able to find so quickly. Maybe you would have ruined or ripped your own bedsheets. Just maybe. Worse than that time when Narancia and him had decided to become the funny people of the situation, and by folding and shredding Pannacotta's bedsheets, they made some table doilies. Afterwards, Fugo didn't really want to punish them too much, to be honest. Just enough to cause the two of them three or four displaced fractures, but obviously Bruno and Leone wouldn't let him do that either.

Third thrust, Guido had started seriously moaning on his own breathy groans. He sounded like he had started to chuckle on his own voice, and that... well, that was kinda hot. "How... How do you keep on being so tight after all of this... you're just like I dreamt... or even better, I say..." you felt your arousal reach the stars, when you realized Mista had been dreaming of you. Well, you would have lied if you told him you hadn't been dreaming of him as well. But all you could do in that moment, was moan and chuckle with him. He was such a funny man, after all. You thought of that time when, together with Giorno, he had well thought about ordering a dick-shaped pizza for Abbacchio's birthday, the package labeled "For a pissing goth". How were you thinking of this while having sex? Oh my god.

Fourth thrust. You were now trembling, along with moaning. "Fuck, Guido... just like that..." you begged, clenching your teeth and not only. "Make me cum, please..." He was being so damn strong, Mista, in that moment, but thinking about that little, big, funny part of his personality, from the vicissitudes with the Gang - although he almost never admitted to be guilty of those - to his iconic tetraphobia, the fear of number four. This is why, he was pretty fast to thrust inside of you an essential fifth time. And the thrusts that appeared so strong at first, seemed now softer, slower. Slower. And frenzied, because of his own climax approaching him.

"Y-Y/n... cum now...! Fuck... cum for me." How could you even think about resisting to it? You let go and rode your high, followed by him. Witnessing such an intense pleasure and feeling of being filled in such a good way from the neapolitan gunslinger, your body trembled and shivered, your hands scratched and caressed the perfect and imperfect skin of the shoulders of Guido Mista, who, filling you with what was left of his tiredness, he let go and collapsed on your sweaty body. "Thank you... damn... thank you." in that moment, you really hoped he hadn't just took an occasion to have sex or to empty his balls. But your fear disappeared when he lay his head on your chest and let you sink a hand into his dark curls, which were sticking to his sweaty face.

For a while, you stayed there, hoping he wouldn't drift asleep. You wanted to understand what all of that meant for him. Because it genuinely meant a lot for you. You had been waiting for that. All you had to understand was if Guido had been dreaming of you to just get a piece of your ass or a piece of your heart. "Bruno's waiting for us, Mista..." you whispered, but your body language fooled you. Your voice sounded like you wanted to get up and get to Passione's Headquarters, but your legs wrapped around the man's waist told another story.

"I don't really care, if I really have to be honest." the gunslinger mumbled, with a sleepy voice. "I'd go there to just look like a mess. I can't possibly focus on anything else, after a good lovemaking." oh you liked the sound of that. You giggled, that was a hilarious answer, but mostly you chuckled out of joy.

"Lovemaking, huh..." you repeated, stroking his soft, curly hair once more. "So it meant something to you." at your words, you saw Mista's eyes widen and his head get up from your chest. He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I... I was lowkey scared you just wanted to get a good time with my ass and let go."

"Me? Just get a good time with your ass?" he pretended to be deeply offended and pouted, making you giggle again. You didn't even mean to express that much joy, but you just felt your heart replenish with feelings. "Who do you think I am? I'm a gentiluomo, I'd never just use a babe like you for sex and nothing more. I'm... a responsible man and shit." yeah, that's just the answer a responsible man would give. But you were satisfied and happy. And amused.

"You know what, Guido... let's just stay here and rest. Bruno can wait." Maybe it was too early to talk about proper love, but you would have had a lot of time, to talk about it.

That is, if Bruno doesn't kill the two of you first.

[that-shamrock-vibe]

First Look: Descendants 3 Promo Picture Breakdown

With the third installment in, what is to date, the best Disney Channel Original Movie franchise with the first movie’s premier night surpassing High School Musical’s opening, coming to our screens this Summer. it is obvious we will be starting to get some advertising and promotions from the movie to ramp up the hype.

This comes most recently in the form of a set of character promotional photos courtesy of Just Jared Jr, not only giving us our first look at main characters outside of the main four V.Ks but also Hades.

So we’re going to break these down in terms of styling and authenticity to the characters both from the original material and previous movies.

Original Release:

So before Just Jared Jr. released his set, this image made the rounds giving us our first official look at our main four V.Ks Carlos, Evie, Mal and Jay. Honestly from a personal perspective I have never been a fan of shooting from a low angle mainly because it creates that very unneccersary shadow effect on the necks so aside from Carlos and Evie, you can’t tell they have necks. It could also be the costumes fault which we’ll go into when we get a closer look at them further down.

Overall though with the actual styling, I like how the look has evolved again from the second movie after that look evolved from the first movie. It is still very much all about the leather to be a V.K. and for some characters it works but for others not so much.

We also had this promo of Uma and her two henchmen Harry Hook and Gil, it is interesting to see the three still together despite Uma now not really having need of cronies but I love how all three of them look.

New Promos:

Alright so we have 9 images and 8 characters to talk about. Surprisingly though there is no sign of Ben or any of the Auradon Prep kids and that may be because they’ll have their own set released but it is weird to have the main four and even Uma but not Ben.

Mal:

Mal is obviously the main character and so her shot is the one we start with. I don’t like this look one bit for Mal. I know in the first two video promos with Hades being teased and that Under the Sea special that Mal had her main look from Descendants 2, I was expecting Mal to obviously update her look but this just seems basic for her. They do say less is more but this look not only looks reverted but too plain.

First of all, these shots are way too dark because the amount of purple in the outfit as seen in the first image isn’t as visible here, so that’s a misstep, also the fact that obviously Hades is Mal’s dad explains the heavy layer of black but I really do miss all the purple.

Next her hair, I didn’t really believe Mal’s wig in the first movie but definitely believed it in the second movie, this seems just like the first movie again just a little bit thinner and longer, also with the lighting in the image it makes her hair look blue rather than purple so of course there is that misstep between her and Evie.

Evie:

Similarly with Evie, she looks like she has purple hair. It’s really confusing and I don’t know if it is to do with the story of Descendants 3 but I would love some clarity or insight because this franchise has done a lot to distinguish colours for the specific characters and purple and blue are Mal’s and Evie’s respectively.

I will say I do like her hair though, I like the fact that even though Evie isn’t royalty in Auradon she still wears a tiara because that’s just her style. I love the red heart jewel in the middle and I would love it if this was one of Dizzy’s designs.

As for her outfit, I would say the side-view doesn’t do it much justice but the front view isn’t as good either. The outfits in these promos almost look like battle armour and there is a severe lack of blue for Evie in the outfit. I actually don’t think there is any blue.

I really liked her outfit in Descendants 2 because I felt it was mature, stylish and appropriately regal for the character. This just does not say Evie to me from the neck down, I can’t imagine Evie as a fashion designer would create this for herself and believe it to be “fabulous”.

Carlos:

Carlos genuinely looks like a cross between a spaceman and motocross racer, neither of which I would ever associate with the son of Cruella De Vil.

Interestingly enough he is not wearing shorts here despite the fact Carlos has always worn shorts because I think they’re trying to show Carlos as the youngest of the four which works naturally anyway as Cameron Boyce is 3-4 years younger than the other three. I do miss the shorts I have to say, because it added a certain youthful quality to the looks that again is needed for the character in my opinion.

Also I get how the black and white colour pallet is supposed to represent the dalmatian theme he is associated with, but I feel his first two looks represented that a lot stronger than this, it almost comes across as a cow-hide than dalmatian theme. I do miss the fur I have to say, that fur collar in the first movie spoke to me like the green paw print on Beast Boy’s jacket shoulder in Titans.

I have to say also, I don’t get the hair. I think the color is still great but I don’t like them taking Cameron Boyce down the Ross Lynch route of pretty boy hair and to be honest I loved the slick look he had at the start of Descendants 2.

Jay:

Jay’s I would say is most authentic to his character and shows an organic evolution throughout the three movies, even though he has sleeves here I do find it works as a more mature look developing on his original style as opposed to how the other three look.

All his colours are still there, there’s the golds, the patches of black, the reds. I can believe this is what a modern day son of Jafar would wear. Leather works for the character anyway and this is leather-bound brilliance.

I have to say, I can’t decide if I miss the beanie or not but I would have maybe liked to see a bandanna or some sort of headwear because, if these are battle outfits, I feel Jay would wear a bandanna.

It is shocking that this, out of the four, is my favourite look because Jay, as anyone who has read my reviews know, has not been my favourite character but I will say he definitely knows how to be stylish which I thought I would say about Evie or Carlos.

Uma:

Now you see looking at this I can kind of understand Mal’s look if she’s trying to compete with Uma or vise-versa. But the problem is, Uma wins hands down as this is Uma’s style. I love everything from the accents of seagreen, to the shape of the outfit, the hair and the accessories.

Speaking of hair, it was interesting that in Descendants 2 and that special Under the Sea, Uma had braids which mostly were extensions which China McClain had embedded into her already braided hair. The look worked for the with the whole pirate gang captain attire. Here though, I will be interested to see if Uma keeps her Sea Witch status and this is definitely Sea Witch style hair. It’s very regal and you can tell where her hair ends and the extensions begin but that’s only because she filmed this alongside Black Lightning, although in Season 2 she does have shorter hair so maybe she dip-dyed and then had that cut for the show. Regardless I love how she kept the braid-style, it almost takes her look from gang leader to crime boss.

As for the accessories, Evie should be ashamed that Uma is showing her up with her bling. The necklace that she either got or stole from her mother is still there but I will agree with some critics from the her first appearance that in some shots the necklace kept changing size, but here it looks like a trinket rather than a magical object. She also seems to have more bling on as well as that so I am looking forward to seeing that in full. Also her bracelets and nails are subtle enough to not be garish but also to be the right level of stylish. Clearly her time at sea has done her good.

Harry:

If Harry has taken over Uma’s crew from the last movie, then this is the look of a renegade gang leader. I love the level of chains going on with his trousers, it’s subtle because of the darkness of the photo but seeing the shine makes it so cool.

I will say I miss the curliness and unkempt nature of his hair in Descendants 2. Here it does look good but flat, and also I miss his hait. It may not go with the outfit but I do miss it.

The leather vest with the belt motifs is a great choice for the character. I am a bit annoyed about the lighting and obscurity of his shirt because in that first promo you can clearly see it’s a skull shirt whereas if no one was to see that and instead just see this they’d be unsure if his chest is covered in body hair or tattoos because it isn’t quite distinguishable.

I like the use of the hook even though it’s merely an accessory for Harry to honor his father, I like the leather wrist-straps, love the fact he still wears guy-liner. It adds a level of camp to the character without making it seem goofy.

The only thing I don’t understand is those straps around his neck which I think are supposed to be braces but it’s too dark to tell and his arms are in the way.

But he looks good, he was one of my favourites in Descendants 2 and I am thrilled he is back with this look for the third movie.

Gill:

Gil has actually surprised me as while his Descendants 2 look was very suitable for the comic-relief role he had and actually reminded me a lot of the looks in Hook for the lost boys, this is a step up and a more mature version of that.

Looking at the head alone I do see why Jay may not have gone with a bandanna as with the long hair here the two do look alike, the two actors look alike anyway so it makes sense not to confuse the styles too much especially as you’re talking about the sons of Jafar and Gaston who are two completely different characters.

I do believe he is actually bulkier here than he was in Descendants 2 which again evolves his character and makes his resemble his father Gaston more. I will say also, I love the amount of straps he has. It references the fact that in the animated movie during the song Gaston, Gaston chewed a leather belt and spat it out. Leather is always good in my opinion and an obvious choice for villains.

I’m not crazy about his long hair, again I think it’s copying Jay a little bit too much, also I would like to see him with some sort of weaponry particularly if he is still part of Harry or Uma’s crew. Maybe not a gun like his father but a sword or a dagger or something. Uma has magic, Harry has his hook, Gil needs something.

Hades:

Alright so this is the big reveal of Cheyenne Jackson as Hades, we get two photos here to give us a proper look and I will start with the side-view.

Obviously immediately I am focusing on the hair because, my god that is not Hades. The look overall screams punk or rocker to me which, as we’ve seen with the V.Ks, is the style the movies have taken them but even with Maleficent they at least kept in touch with how the original character looked. Here that hair 1) Has way too much product in and 2) Looks ridiculous. I get they’re trying to represent the flaming hair that Hades in animation always has which is obviously not easy to do in live-action but then go with something subtler like Once Upon a Time did, do not tell me Hades is now apparently a punk. I will say they got the colour right and the mohawk effect does look like fire but, hopefully they’ll CG it in the movie but I would prefer Cheyenne Jackson to be bald and just for them to say they’ll add the hair in later.

In the front view the hair doesn’t look as bad but knowing how it looks on the side-view I can’t forgive it. However with the front view we get a better look at the outfit and again it screams punk, Where’s the robe, where’s the smoke, nothing here is giving me Hades, Lord of the Underworld.I will say he does look a lot like what they did with Steve Coogan in Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief but that wasn’t good either and obviously that wasn’t meant to be based on the Disney version and rather Greek Mythologu, but the Disney version is obviously drawing inspiration from Greek Mythology and I am not getting any of that here.

It’s more of a renegade warlock type of look than it is a supposed god of the Underworld. The only good thing about the look is the colour because at least they’re right, the leather coat does kind of answer why Mal’s look is so dark in this movie but surely this isn’t just going to be a question of Mal siding with her father and therefore dressing like him.

Also I can kind of see Cheyenne Jackson and Kristin Chenoweth together in a sitcom or American Horror Story style setup, but as the Lord of the Dead and Mistress of All Evil...I just don’t see those two characters as a thing.

As someone who loves Greek Mythology and the Hades character James Woods portrayed so well, I am not getting any respect for either interpretation in this portrayal. I do think Cheyenne Jackson is the wrong casting choice for the character,

Overall I am not as hyped for these looks as I was for the Descendants 2 first look promos we got, I do think there is some good and surprising good but I do also feel nervous for some of my favourites. It’s not all about the fashion at the end of the day but it is part of what makes this franchise enjoyable.

So those are my thoughts on this first official look at the characters of Descendants 3, if they do release a set for the Auradon kids I will probably do another post to dissect them but until then post your comments on what you think about these looks and if you think the styling of these characters are a key component to these movies? Which are your best and which are your worst? Post your comments and check out more posts.

[tumblunni]

Digimon frontier ocs?

Randomly started rewatching CactusCasual's great Digimon Frontier critique series. He's leaving youtube soon and making the weird decision to delete his whole account and everything he's ever done. But he's uploaded a bunch of his best stuff to google drive so if people wanna keep.it they can. Still i think its a lil dumb to not just leave the account open even if you're not using it? I dont know anything about why he's quitting the site though so maybe he has his reasons.

ANYWAY this got me thinking again about how Frontier is so goddamn boring and weirdly cliche and badly paced, and like everyone just focuses on "but they changed how digivolution works" and ignores all the actual reasons its bad. Like, kids have fused with digimon in previous seasons too! And haven't we all wished we could be the awesome characters like angemon and etc? A digimonny power rangers henshin thing isnt an inherantly bad idea, it was just executed badly. I dislike it cos it meant we completely lost any sort of digimon and human bonding experience plotline. They gave us two recurring digimon characters but they were just basically a pokedex and the world's least funny comic relief. Gimme a version of the show where the kids actually talk to their "spirit evolutions"! Like maybe they have a digimon partner but its forever stuck in baby form or spirit egg form and cant fight without fusing with a human host? Or just give us a better non-combat digimon pal like bokomon and neemon but like.. Fully developed with their own character arc and relationships with everyone else. Maybe ophanimon could have been around the whole time and been a mentor and parental figure? And we could actually explore her moral ambiguity, cos seriously the show makes her kind of a "ends justify the means" asshole and just NEVER AKNOWLEDGES IT. Wtf was up with that scene where she illusions Cherubimon with a fake dream of him being purified and getting to just go back home and be friends? And then she just backstabs him and we never mention it again. Like seriously even if she couldnt actually cure him that scene at least revealed that he WANTED to be cured and it made him so much more sympathetic! If he can be reasoned with, maybe they could have talked him down and then gone on an adventure together to find an actual cure for him? Also seriously what is up with his entire plot! Cos he just gets 'infected with darkness' cos he 'had darkness in his soul' but its just cos he thought the humanoid digimon were being racist against the beast digimon? And like.. The council was 2/3rds humanoid with him as the only beast representative and since he got infected by evilness they never remotely tried to recruit a new one or listen to what beast digimon have to say. So he was kinda right, yo! Also wtf with the reveal that actually no everything we just said is pointless because his REAL motivation was just blindly obeying ANOTHER humanoid digimon that comes out of nowhere to be the final boss. Also what is up with all the increased sexism in this series!! Its so weirdly worse than even adventure which had the excuse of being "a product of the times" yet still had way better variety of female characters and less bigoted stuff! And frontier came right after tamers which was one of the best series for gender equality and even used the medium of the setting as an opportunity to talk about the subject. Shame they censored that in the dub tho, Renamon talking about how digimon have no biological sex and how she only came to think of herself as a girl when she came to the human world. And rika's family accepting her and inviting her to family girls's night and stuff! Like as a metaphor for transgender issues it really worked to try and explain it to a younger audience in a natural way. And then one season later in frontier we have ONLY ONE GIRL IN THE CAST and wah wah whining about fashion and oh no she cant ever win a fight and her goddamn spirit form is in skimpy lingerie despite her being 12, and the show is always perving on her! And then she loses her powers halfway through the first season without winning a single fight, and has to be the damsel in distress to motivate the dudes in a stupid love triangle. And even when she does get to fight she's only allowed to fight the ONE SINGLE GIRL ON THE VILLAIN TEAM and they have stupid slap fights and "who's the most pretty" and BEACH EPISODE and GAHHHHH

...anyway as you can see i have a lot of reasons why i didnt really like the series. But what i meant to make this post about (BEFORE I GOT DISTRACTED) is that the fundemental concept itself isnt bad, they just wasted all its potential. And its a really good concept for ocs! Make your own digi superhero person and explore the fragmented world doing stuff offscreen during the series! Like they left so much open?? We know that other kids also got on other trains to the digiworld and they all just failed or gave up or got captured by the bad guys. And we know there's a bunch of spirits that the heroes never use because the villains got them again, so its cool to imagine an alt universe where the roles were swapped. What if different kids became the chosen heroes? What if different spirits were corrupted by the villains? What would a good guy Grumblemon be like? What would the kid be like who got that spirit? Would their evolution form be wildly different from grumblemon? Do the villain forms and purified forms look as different as Duskmon and Lowemon did?

SO MUCH POTENTIAL!!!

So yeah i wasted so much space here blabbering, so i'll probably make a separate post about my oc ideas lol. But i'd love to see other people's ideas for ocs/reinterpretations/other ways to fix that wasted potential!

So! Digimon frontier oc ideas!

To start off,have an undeveloped idea of someone on the team having Angemon as their spirit evolution. Cos it would have made the transition to such a new series a lot easier if they had some sort of "hey this is for you" to the fans of the previous ones. And angemon is the Adventure digimon that already looks the most like a regular human in a weird mask.

SPEAKING OF WHICH! less regular humans in weird masks! Whats the point of "you turn into a digimon" if you dont turn into a digimon? Like i know the whole gimmick is "humanoid mode and beast mode" but even the beast modes often look like humans in a costume! And there's been so many humanoid digimon before who actually looked like HUMANOID MONSTERS rather than just normal dudes cosplaying! There's literally nothing "monster" about agunimon, he's just a guy in some knight armour. Like the most you can do is charitably assume maybe the horns are his own and not just attatched to the helmet. And its annoying cos the villains have way cooler evolutions! And also double annoying that they always bend the humanoid/beast rule in such transparently self serving ways. Tommy gets two beast forms cos he's meant to be the cute mascot-looking character. Zoey gets two human forms cos she's meant to be grossly sexualized all the time. When kouichi turns from bad to good he loses his interesting looking actually monsterous evolutions and just becomes another dude in an armour. A friggin palette swap of his brother!

Anyway anyway LOL IM RAMBLING AGAIN yo...

Ideas for ocs!

I was thinking of a main girl character who's basically just a "fuk u" to all the stereotypes they did with Zoey. Actually gets a monster lookin beast form and a warrior lookin human form and actually gets to goddamn fight! Maybe her name is Hilda or Hildegarde? And i'm imagining her as a chubby nerdy kid with glasses and curly hair and a super cute oversized sweater kind of fashion sense. And her main spirit form would be this super badass lady knight giant orc thing who can Protec All The Peoples! Maybe earth element or the irony of being light element but she's this big ol monster goblin with just a tiny pair of angel wings on the back, lol! And then her personality is normally super shy and socially anxious, but she actually finds the digimon world kind of freeing? She's a total badass in battle and acts like a big ol powerful protector of all her friends! And she's always super excited aboyt adventuring and gets carried away comparing stuff to her favourite books. And now we must learn everything about this new place!! TO THE DIGI LIBRARY!!! So she's able to be confident and bubbly when it comes to actual adventure stuff, but she's still shy about regular life and anything social. Maybe its her weakness? Like she's scared about going home because she thinks she'll be "just a nobody" again, and lose all the great friends she made here. And also maybe a backstory of her heroic side still existing even before she got magic powers, but in the most tragic way? She managed to fend off a burglar once all on her own, she just snapped and did everything possible to defend her family, even though this was a man three times her size! But instead of being seen as a hero it just made all the neighbours and kids at school spread rumours about her being dangerous. Oh she must be in *a gang* if she knew how to fight like that! Oh its so *dangerous* for a kid that age to have such anger inside! Maybe she's a *scary mentally ill person*! So the whole situation ruined her social status even more and made her retreat even more inside her shell. And this is why the circumstances of the digital world are such a wish fullfillment for her and she's so scared of just waking up and it all being a dream. I think the villains could manipulate her fears, and it could maybe lead to her Skullgreymon Moment?

And then another idea i had was for a trans boy? I just thought this would be a good framework to explore LGBT stuff. He'd maybe be the wind element? And his personality would be very "classic shonen hero" but without the "dumbass" part, instead he's the cynical planner type dude while Hilda is the "i didnt even think, i just wanted to save everyone" type. But he's still super peppy and tries to be the class clown all the time so people will like him, and loves to climb trees and stuff. I think maybe his fighting style would be all about trickery and random chance? If there was such a thing as an element of surprise then he'd have that one! And then his story is that he doesn't have anyone supporting him for who he truly is at home, and he's afraid that his new friends will call him a freak too if they find out. He took the opportunity and cut his hair short as soon as this adventure started, and just introduced himself to everyone as a boy. But he's scared that people will find out he "lied" even though he didnt, he's just been so beaten down with the idea that he's not allowed to be himself and he has to pretend to be everyone else's idea of an ideal cis man or else they'll reject him. So maybe he starts off a bit obsessed with cliche masculinity and has low confidence about himself? And this could reflect in his digivolutions actually changing! He starts off with a really over the top buff warrior dude form, even though his fighting style is entirely about speed and trickery. So he tends to get into trouble with this fake form getting in the way of his ability to fight. And then when everyone accepts him he gets all powered up and changes into a new form! A way less "cliche macho" dude who looks like a stage magician instead and actually synchronizes with his element to become super powerful! And he's all like "oh no i became less manly" but everyone is like "wtf dont let yourself believe you're any less of a man because of dumb stereotypes!" And Also Big Friendship Hugs.

And then maybe this provides a resolution to both him and Hilda's plots? Like when the story is over they still stay friends in the real world, and having a friend who supports them gives them enough power to withstand all the haters and stay confident in themselves. But itd be kind of a coincidence for all the digidestined to live in the same city lol! So maybe in real life they live at least a few towns away, and they become long distance pals who send letters/emails. Because I LOVE ALL MY LONG DISTANCE PALS!! Also itd make sense to have a Internet Good message in a digimon show, lol.

And then i dunno about the rest of the team yet but i thought itd be good to have a sort of moral divide? Like these are the two who have a shitty home life and dont want to leave the digital world. But then the other half of the group has big reasons to wanna go home. So the villains could play on this difference in goals and make them fight amoungst each other. Just generally make the villains more actually competant, yknow? Oh also if there's a Dark Agunimon on the villains he needs to be EVEN MORE of a boring human in a costume! Cos it sucks that all the villains have better character designs and the show seems to think theyre worse ones. Give me one case of more boring not meaning more heroic!

[mst3kproject]

514: Teenage Strangler

Oh, boy, I get to talk about serial killers!

That isn't even sarcasm.  Remember I mentioned my addiction to terrible television?  That includes not only MonsterQuest and Ghost Adventures, but also a number of things on ID (investigate!). I'm going to enjoy this very much.

Twenty-something 'teenager' Betty sneaks out of the house to see her boyfriend Jimmy with help from their mutual friend Anne.  On the way home, the two girls get separated and Anne is murdered by a figure in a leather jacket suspiciously like the ones Jimmy and his friends wear!  This isn't the first such murder, and it won't be the last.  Over the next few weeks more and more bodies are discovered... is it one of the kids? No, of course it's not.  It's obvious from the very first scene that it's Mr. Wilson the fucking creepy school janitor, and he has a totally rubbish explanation for why strangling women fills the void where his soul should be.

The movie was made in a small town by a bunch of people who had never made a movie before, and as a result the whole thing has a weird, histrionic vibe to it.  Every performance is either overdone or underdone.  Jo Canterbury as Betty sounds breathless and hysterical even before she witnesses a murder.    Bill Bloom as Jimmy is furious about everything.  Betty's mother is unaccountably delighted by the police in her house.  Jimmy's father intones every line as if he's doing Shakespeare.  The sheriff looks like he's reading his lines with a gun pointed at his head.  And then there's Mikey... I'm not sure English has the vocabulary to describe Mikey.  Imagine a kid so withdrawn and socially dysfunctional that not even Napoleon Dynamite would hang out with him.  Then make him more so.

The movie tries its best to present us with suspects.  Jimmy's anger and supposed criminal past makes him the obvious one, and when it turns out Mikey was the bike theif we're supposed to wonder if he is our pubescent DeSalvo.  When neither of them prove to be the suspect, we're next offered Curly, leader of the Fastbacks drag racing team.  All of these, however, are obvious red herrings.  The janitor is the only adult with a significant role in the story besides the cops – we know it's not any of them, therefore it has to be the janitor.  We would be sure of this even if his first appearance wasn't popping out of the darkness to scare Anne and Betty half to death and then creepily insisting on walking them home.  If you lined up everybody in this movie and asked people to pick which one is a serial killer, nobody would hesitate.  It's the janitor.

Meanwhile, there's very little evidence that the town at large cares about the series of horrific murders going on.  Kids are having a party with live entertainment in the malt shop the day after Anne's death hits the headlines (the malt shop extras probably look back at this movie and feel personally responsible for stereotypes about white people and dancing).  People don't even bother to start locking their doors.  There's no sense of the pervasive 'who will be next?' terror you might expect in a community being stalked by a serial killer.  Betty's parents tell her to stay home, but only because they don't want her hanging out with Jimmy, not because they're afraid the killer will find her.

The girl who gets up to sing Yipes Stripes actually looks a bit like Betty, so if you're not paying attention it's possible to confuse the two.  This may leave the casual viewer wondering why the hell this girl is literally dancing on tables mere hours after watching her friend get brutalized in an alley.  It feels downright surreal and it was a relief to know I'd merely confused the two characters... but then I realized that we were never going to see the singer again and there was no point to the song!  In I Accuse my Parents the songs were part of the story.  In The Giant Gila Monster Chase was a character as well as providing the soundtrack.  Yipes Stripes, much like California Lady, just kind of happens and then it's over.

Sampo on Satellite of Love News noted that Yipes Stripes is a hell of an earworm.  I concur: I was singing it to myself all week after watching the movie for this review (and now you will be too).  I have to say, though, that despite all Tom Servo's complaining I do like how the same tune in a minor key is used as the ominous stalking theme.  It unifies the soundtrack and represents a note of professionalism this movie otherwise would not have.

There's certainly not much professionalism in the sets.  The high school stuff seems to have been filmed mostly in and around a real school, and various people's houses make appearances, but check out the 'holding cell' the gang is kept in, with its cardboard walls painted in a 'brick' pattern.  Or the 'malt shop', which looks like somebody's basement bar – I especially like the sad little pennants pinned to the walls in the effort to distract from the lack of windows.  The Sheriff (played by the town of Huntington's actual sheriff, which is possibly why the guy looks like a deer in the headlights) makes his TV broadcast in front of a set of curtains standing in for a TV studio.

Between the amateurish sets and acting, the flat and uninteresting lighting and the lack of any suspense, the overall effect we get is that we're watching a school play.  It just happens to be a play about a serial killer for some reason.  So with that convenient segue, let's talk about our culprit, Mr. Wilson the janitor, and why his excuse that he kills for revenge against the girl who ruined his life is almost certainly bullshit!

Mr. Wilson is a very good fit to the standard profile of a serial killer: he's a middle-aged white male in a job that he feels is beneath his talents, and he murders vulnerable members of the gender he is attracted to – in this case, women and girls walking alone at night.  He is what the FBI calls an organized killer: his job at the school gives him ample time to observe and stalk the students and female teachers who are his victims, and he puts some thought into how he will avoid capture and see that the blame falls on somebody else, as illustrated by his theft of the Fastback jacket.  And he leaves the bodies in places that ensure swift discovery, so he can enjoy the shock and horror of the community and feel like he has power over all these people.

Also like many real-life serial killers, he has a rationalization for why he does what he does.  Sutcliffe claimed he murdered prostitutes because god had told him to.  Ramirez and Berkowitz blamed Satan. Bundy at least implied that it was revenge on a woman who had spurned him, while Gacy insisted that he killed over thirty teenage boys in self-defense.  In Mr. Wilson's case, it's about the lack of respect the students have for him, and particularly about a girl who ruined his life by accusing him of sexual harrassment.

This rings false, for starters, because the students never seem to be particularly disrespectful of Mr. Wilson.  He is not presented as the butt of jokes or pranks.  In the opening scene, Betty and Anne are startled by his appearance but they are not rude to him.  When he corners Betty at the climax he taunts her for calling him 'Mr. Wilson' as if this is something new, but throughout the movie we have never heard the students address him as anything else!  Mr. Wilson's persecution by the student body seems to exist mostly in his own imagination.

Then there's his claim of the false accusation that cost him his teaching job.  Of course we only hear his side of this, which is probably coloured by his victim complex.  We never meet the girl it happened to, so we can't get her version, but Mr. Wilson's choice of phrase when telling the story is interesting. I wasn't even near her, he says.  There are plenty of ways to sexually harrass somebody without actually touching them, and a teacher would be in an excellent position to take advantage of these.  Perhaps Mr. Wilson made embarrassing remarks to her in front of the class, or wrote inappropriate things on her test papers.  Maybe she accused him of attempted rape because her parents and the principal kept downplaying or ignoring complaints about his actual behaviour.  Whatever happened, I'm willing to bet this mysterious student would tell a very different story than he does!

The movie ends with Mr. Wilson being shot by the police, who had only just arrived and couldn't possibly have any idea what was going on in his office.  It's an ending that fails to be worthy of Colman Francis only because the shooter isn't in an airplane.  You'd think they could throw the audience a bone by having a line about how they'd suspected him all along or something.

I've probably made it sound like I don't like Teenage Strangler, but that's not the case.  The movie is something like Teenagers from Outer Space in that its ambition far outstrips the budget and talent attached to the project, but everybody gave it their best and you can't say their hearts weren't in it.  It sucks, but it sucks with sincerity, and that's my favourite kind of bad movie.

[gossipnetwork-blog]

March of the Juggalos: Inside the Faygo-Soaked D.C. Protest

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March of the Juggalos: Inside the Faygo-Soaked D.C. Protest

Without Insane Clown Posse and their fan base, the Juggalos, Moon Brown would probably be dead. So a 16-hour bus ride from Detroit wasn’t going to stop Brown from seeing ICP for the first time at Saturday’s Juggalo March on Washington. Brown, 25, wearing a brown felt hat, black pants held up by a Grateful Dead belt and shirtless with a black leather vest, came to D.C. on Friday with a few bucks in his pocket, and he slept the night before the march behind the Lincoln Memorial. Carrying an aqua knapsack that he’s had since his days hitchhiking across America, he wanted to be only a few steps away from the stage for the event, excited about the prospect of seeing so many others who are like him.

Brown is skin and bones, with his black, white and red face paint that he had applied a day before beginning to wear off. With a wild brown beard, locks of long, wispy hair and a green half-crescent moon tattooed on the middle of his forehead, Brown, whose name is a pseudonym, has never been big on going to ICP shows or attending a Gathering of the Juggalos, the subculture’s annual music festival. But he credits the horrorcore rap duo of Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope, and Juggalos in general, for a support system that eluded him – and had him contemplating taking his own life a decade earlier.

“ICP built a family for those who didn’t have one,” Brown says. “Maybe they didn’t realize what they were doing, but they did something great, and I have the appreciation and love for that.” He adds: “If they’re going to call us out to be at the March, then I owe them.”

This feels different than your regular ICP show or Gathering. Sure, about 1,500 people are passing around liters of Faygo, smoking cigarettes like they’re going out of style, and yelling their fraternal call – “Whoop! Whoop!” – at anyone who passes by. Men walk around in Jason and lucha libre wrestling masks, women are in schoolgirl outfits and toddlers are in face-paint and ICP T-shirts. It attracts all ages, from the older man in the wheelchair to the little girl with curly brown hair holding a face-painted doll’s head on a stick. But Gatherings don’t happen at the National Mall, and they certainly don’t have the political feeling this one does. You see signs of the day: “Juggalo Lives Matter.” “Don’t Shoot/I’m Just a Music Fan With a Really Big Family.” “FBI: Foolish Bunch of Inbreds.” “The FBI Listens to Nickelback.”

Since 2011, the Juggalos have been branded by the FBI’s National Gang Threat Assessment as “a loosely-organized hybrid gang” in four states – Arizona, California, Pennsylvania and Utah. The report, which was collected from data submitted by state and local law enforcement agencies nationwide, recognized that subsets exhibited “gang-like behavior and engage in criminal activity and violence” in at least 21 states. In 2014, ICP, represented by the American Civil Liberties Union, sued the FBI. Though the initial suit was dismissed for lacking “legal standing,” an appeals court reinstated the case in 2015, on the basis that the gang designation has brought significant harm to Juggalos. (Oral arguments on the appeal are set to begin October 11th.) “You might not give a fuck about ICP, but how are you not going to give a fuck about the situation that’s going on?” Shaggy says.

Whether you sip the Faygo or remember ridiculing the kid in high school who wanted to wear a Hatchetman shirt, one thing about this case has united people: The move to designate ICP’s fan base as a gang is unprecedented. Never before has the U.S. government targeted a fan base of an artist or music genre, and labeled anyone associated with it, as part of an organized gang. Though the Juggalos were not specifically named in the FBI’s 2013 or 2015 National Gang Reports, the gang label is the stain they can’t remove. That’s why they’re marching.

“You now have people examining the issue and understanding how wrong it was,” says Steve Miller, author of Juggalo: Insane Clown Posse and the World They Made, on the gang classification. “That was the problem before – you didn’t have people seriously taking a look at this as a true First Amendment legal issue.”

Antifa members join Juggalos in their march. Rosie Cohe

Off in the distance is the Mother of All Rallies, a relatively small demonstration in support of President Donald Trump. Despite the online clamoring for the face-painted Juggalos to confront and pummel the crowd, the gathering’s focus is civil, focused and disciplined. Antifa make their presence known in case there is a problem with the pro-Trumpers, but they remain off to the side, not impeding on the Juggalos or the event. Most Juggalos tell me that this day isn’t about the red hat-wearing assholes over there. It’s about them. It’s about their rights. It’s about the future of an American subculture that, in their eyes, has been unfairly labeled by the federal government and affected their lives for the worse.

One by one, Juggalos of all kinds – military veterans, registered nurses, fast-food cooks, government employees – step up to tell their stories to this family of misfits and outcasts. Despite never receiving a negative work review, Jessica Bonometti says she was fired from her job as a Virginia probation officer last year for showing appreciation on Facebook for ICP. Because she saw an ICP show, Crystal Guerrero says she lost a custody battle for her two children in New Mexico, now only seeing them six hours a week. Ashley Vasquez recalls instances in which she was almost kicked out of the military for her tattoos and wearing clothes supporting ICP’s music.

“That’s the biggest misconception about people outside looking in, thinking that Juggalos are just a piece of shit, inbred, uneducated fuckheads, you know what I’m saying?” Shaggy tells me. “It’s the furthest from the truth.”

Talk to some Juggalos on this steamy September day at the nation’s capital and they’ll rattle off about every insult thrown at them for the last 20 years. Losers. Freaks. White trash. Rednecks. Meth addicts. Mistakes. Criminals. They’ve grown numb to the barbs, largely ignoring the constant ridicule that’s followed the marginalized fan-base. But one hurts more than any other: Gang member.

“What happened to us never happened to any band in the history of rock and roll that I know of,” J tells Rolling Stone. “Nothing like it.”

He adds: “You wanna call us something, call us a family, because a lot of us don’t have a family and all we’ve got is each other. This shit is real for us, man.”

ICP’s Shaggy 2 Dope and Violent J visited Rolling Stone to discuss the march.

Like almost every Juggalo I spoke to about their life growing up, Brown’s childhood was pretty shitty. Living in the Florida panhandle, his drug-abusive parents caused Brown to run away from group homes and bounce around the foster care system in Pensacola until he was around nine. On the steps at the base of the Lincoln Memorial, Brown refers back to the time he had to pull a needle out of his mom’s arm, and how his dad sold crack and forced him to smoke weed when he was four. Time and time again, foster parents would take him in, only to make it clear they really didn’t want him and that they only took him to not separate him from his sister. The last pair of parents, he says, constantly punished him, forcing him to run away again when he was 12.

It was around this time that he found an MP3 player on a school bus. When he popped in headphones and hit play, he listened to a few songs from ICP. He was hooked. But even with his newfound love couldn’t shield him from what was happening at home. He says that shortly after his foster family dropped him off with his biological parents, he was left to fend for himself. Between the ages of 14 and 18, Brown was homeless, living on the streets. “Homeless at 14 is not a good way to be in Pensacola,” he tells me. During that time, he says he was taken in by a few different families of Juggalos in the area for stretches. When he was 15, Brown was told by a friend what he already knew deep down: He was a Juggalo.

“Meeting the Juggalos and hanging out with them, I saw how people had each other’s backs, just this blunt, honest attitude,” Brown tells me. “It was real. That gave me something to lean toward.”

Brown remembers the first ass-kicking he got for being a Juggalo. When he heard the “Whoop! Whoop!” call at a party, he instinctively responded with one of his own. But these 20-somethings he was partying with were instead talking trash about Juggalo culture. Quick to fight, Brown, then 15 or 16, says he was repeatedly kicked in the stomach, with the anti-Juggalo group furiously stomping on his head. By the time they were done with him, Brown left with a bloody nose, a ripped shirt and a reminder of how people simply enjoy picking on Juggalos.

A juggalo getting their face paint done on site. Rosie Cohe

“People don’t get us,” he tells me.

Brown’s journey to Washington hasn’t been without its setbacks. When he was 17, he says he was given nine months in a low-risk juvenile program for improper display of a firearm at school when he unknowingly had a gun in his backpack. And trouble would find him again. Not long after the firearm incident, Brown and a buddy would walk up and down Michigan Avenue in Montclair, what Brown calls the ghetto of Pensacola, in hope of selling drugs to the area’s residential junkies. When he was apprehended for resisting arrest after tripping a cop around 2011, police found a custom knife he found in a gutter in his waistband.

The possession of a concealed weapon charge got him 14 months in jail. When he was getting booked, he says police saw his tattoos and asked him if he was a Juggalo. He says he confirmed he was, and saw the official at the jail mark down that he was a gang member. Brown says he didn’t care about the label at the time and that he hasn’t let it impact him since then, but one thought has stayed on his mind: What the fuck?

Sitting inside a studio at the Rolling Stone office days before the Juggalo March, J and Shaggy say they knew a while ago they had to do something.

Initially, they joked that the FBI’s gang classification of their fan base was yet another reason why they proudly own the title of “most hated band in the world.” But the group’s outlook would take a sharp turn from glee to despair. When they’d hit the road for meet-and-greets and in-store signings across the country, they found that the FBI’s gang label had real-life consequences for Juggalos: Longer terms in jail for offenders. Parents losing kids in custody battles. People getting fired from their jobs. Potential recruits not being able to get into the military. And on and on.

Even with the increased attention on their cause, the duo say that it’s hard to do those meetups with fans nowadays, as the stories they keep hearing from loyal Juggalos affected by the gang label are heartbreaking. Yes, there are probably a few fans who are gang members, but, they argue, why isn’t that same flimsy standard of blanketing an entire group applied to people in gangs who like other artists?

“There’s fucking Bonnie Raitt fans that are in gangs,” J says.

While they downplay the effect the gang label has had on them and keep the focus on their fans, it has impacted their ability to earn, specifically from the venues that are skeptical of booking them because of the Juggalo designation.

“The more that spreads, the harder this shit is getting, and fuck, man, where does it end?” J says.

When reached by Rolling Stone for comment, the FBI reiterated to that the 2011 report was “compromised of information shared with the National Gang Intelligence Center and the FBI from law enforcement agencies around the country.”

“The FBI’s mission is to protect the American people and uphold the Constitution. We investigate activity which may constitute a federal crime or pose a threat to national security,” an FBI spokesperson said in a statement. “The FBI cannot initiate an investigation based on an individual’s exercise of their First Amendment rights.”

The duo knows that getting the FBI to rescind the label, or at least acknowledge the matter, is a pipe dream. Shaggy says he knows already that’ll never happen. That’s why ICP became the latest in a decorated history of political demonstrations in front of the Lincoln Memorial.

“Whether [the FBI] want to admit it or not,” Shaggy says, “they fucked up.”

By 3 p.m., the chanting, laughter and clouds of cigarette smoke have made this a full-blown party. This might not be a Gathering of the Juggalos, but it’s a celebration of the culture and the people who make it possible. There’s Richard and Stephanie Miller, a couple from New Castle, Delaware, that’s helped organize a Juggalo carpool system, coordinating rides for people from as far as California and Washington State. There’s Amanda Donihoo, whose husband, Scott, otherwise known as Scottie D., president of Faygoluvers.net, gives an impassioned speech of his life for the Juggalos that mentions how him and his wife, an IT professional and a registered nurse in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, respectively, reflect how the group is pigeonholed and criminalized because of the actions of a few.

“We are some of the most straight-laced people ever,” says Amanda Donihoo, 35. “But since we don’t always wear the attire you expect or perceive a Juggalo would wear, people don’t understand.”

Juggalo marchers in face paint holding a sign saying “Juggalo’s are a family not a gang. Those who think otherwise [middle finger]”. Rosie Cohe

ICP has no plans to make this an annual event, so the Juggalos are making the most out of the day.

Hannah Baxter drove seven hours from New York state to be at the March. Baxter, 27, has been to roughly 50 ICP shows and two Gatherings, but it’s hard for the former group-home kid to describe what she’s feeling while looking at the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool.

“This is the first time we’re actually banding together as a family to show everybody that we’re not as bad as they think we are,” she says. “Just ’cause we like people that rap about something a little crazy, we’re normal people, too.”

By the time ICP take the stage around 5 p.m., the Juggalos are hanging on their every word. While they speak on stage, two Juggalettes yell at a guy with a camera wearing a backwards “Make America Great Again” hat, telling him he’d get his ass beat by a family of a thousand clowns if he didn’t leave now. He says, “Fuck you, bitch,” and flees. Aside from that, this moment is festive and positive.

“This is our day! This is our year! Are you ready?” J asks the jubilant Juggalos. “The Juggalo family and the Wicked Clowns will never die. Let’s march, motherfuckers!”

ICP is at the beginning of the procession, looking almost overwhelmed by the love of the unlikeliest of families. It’s from this love that they push forward to lift the Juggalos’ gang label.

“It’s scary because this ain’t a movie,” J tells me. “This ain’t something anybody’s been through. And you don’t know how this is going to end.”

Brown’s March starts, and ends, with him walking through the crowd, carrying his third clear trash bag of the day. In an effort to help turn around the perception some may hold toward Juggalos, Brown, who works with prototype car parts for Chevy and Ford back in Michigan, packed some garbage bags and vowed to clean up the trash left behind on the Mall. It’s his way of giving back to a subculture that’s given him so much. At the back end of the March around the outside of the Washington Monument, there isn’t a piece of trash that Brown doesn’t pick up. He’s in D.C. for the next few days before heading back to Michigan, unsure of what’s next or where he’ll spend the night. For now, he’s bottling up the energy and the positive feelings of the day the Juggalos took Washington, a day he met more extended members of his family.

“That was epic,” he tells me, flashing his biggest smile of the day. He then darts to every piece of trash in his path, saying to anyone who will listen at the tail of the March: “Throw your garbage away! Give me your trash!”

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