#axe to grind

[rhetthammersmithhorror]

Snow-White | 1933

[tilbageidanmark]

The Woodcutter and the Trees

[wispisstillverybored67]

DENIED

SEARCHING ALL AROUND

UP AND DOWN

CONTROL FOR EMPTY WORDS

WASTING AWAY HOURS

POSING LIKE SOMETHING YOU'RE NOT

WHERE'S YOUR THOUGHT?

YOU'LL FIND AN AXE TO GRIND

I TAKE HEARTS BUT NOT MINDS

[thedailycounternews]

AXE TO GRIND- HAMLET, NC's HIDDEN SECRET

In a world of fast bars and fast drinks there is still hope. Hamlet, North Carolina holds a secret establishment that reminds one of the old style pubs. Family oriented and just plain fun. The atmosphere takes you back to a time when you felt comfortable to go out and just have a good time with friends and family. Saturday nights is their Kareoke night, which you can hear good voices from the…

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #21: Petition to the King

I haven’t done one of these in a while so here we go:

AU where Thomas and Martha Wayne live in the Ghost Zone version of Gotham and have been collecting signatures from the other ghosts there for a few years now. Since the Ghost Prince Phantom has finally come of age and is now able to hold court/assemblies they approach him with their official petition and beseech him: Please allow them avenge their grandson and countless other souls, who’ve signed agreeing to the petition, to haunt and torment the Joker for the rest of his living days. May he never find peace even in sleep, even in death.

Danny being the gracious prince he is agrees. Even going as far as to take the names of literally everyone on the list and create a haunting rotation, for who gets to torment the Joker on which days, with Thomas and Martha having first dibs.

The grandson in question is a revenant and thus also eligible to be put on the haunting rotation so Danny decides to reach out and go to Gotham himself and ask if he wants to haunt the Joker with his grandparents. Thomas and Martha tag along bc they wanna visit their grand-babies, their son, and their partner who raised him.

Jason isn’t sure what to make of his doting ghostly grandparents, the beautiful interdimensional king, or the apparent laundry list of people ready to mess with the Joker’s mind, but hey! If he can’t kill the Joker, eternal torment isn’t a bad deal to swing!

[last-of-the-lot]

I tend to watch Vox Machina a few different times in different languages.

This has had the unintended side effect of causing me to laugh for a stupid amount of time at Cassandra swearing in the castle siege scene. Oh boy did it take me a minute to stop and double check that yes, miss prim and proper said that!

Honestly with everything she went through, girl deserved it

[frostyyart]

axe and grind

timelapse

x

[jup1tersparx]

rick rounds autistic and gets away with no one ever picking up on it via pretending all of the autism traits are 1) him being rude on purpose and 2) him just being a REALLY dedicated and stoic leader.

he never makes eye contact with anyone and seems to ignore to half of the things you say when talking to him? yeah he’s locked into that sigma grindset bro he doesnt have time for your bullshit. he refuses to let anyone touch him? oh is he also gonna cry and tell you about his feelings while you’re hugging 🥺🥺🥺? he barely makes any facial expressions, his voice is always monotone and he won’t react at all if you break down crying in front of him? yeah hes hardcore man completely unreadable. he gets really loud and angry and unpredictable when theres a lot of people and noise and lights? yeah hes a fucking wildcard bro you dont wanna mess around near him trust me. we need real men like this leading America forward thank god men are finally being masculine again 🙏🙏🙏 (/s)

[idknotgonnapost]

u guys remember when axe and grind aired and just the entire feed was just ‘caraJO i think u broke one of my rIIIBss’ and also the one handed belt removal (and leg removal) okay whatever it was just sooo iconic . Oh and he got his nails did

[raymurata]

Folks in my Bellara post saying some manner of "The choice (to destroy the archive) shouldn't exist" or "It's racist to choose to destroy the archive" and the latter is true and the former is valid, but my point is more that:

1. Cyrian's death is contrived.

2. The game uses the UI to overtly convince the player that keeping the Archive is inherently dangerous while not allowing the player to interpret the events for themselves based purely on diegetic information (which is not clear, consistent or coherent enough to corroborate the conclusion delivered to you by the UI).

3. While it is in-character for Bellara to feel misplaced guilt (white guilt 🤮) over the actions of the Evanuris, and for her grief to lead her to see the Archive as responsible for Cyrian's death, it is bizarre for her, as a Dalish historian, to never once factor in the last one thousand years of history and instead blame the Evanuris not only for the destruction of Arlathan, but for the current plight of the elves. No other character (and perhaps not even codex?) in DAV ever mentions these one thousand years of slavery and subjugation either.

4. Despite being called a spirit, the Archive never gets treated as a spirit by the narrative or its characters. It's presented as some sort of programmed hologram without will of its own.

5. I actually wish the PC could be racist, and that it cost them both Bellara and Davrin's respect and approval, or the VJ's support, or something, but DAV tries to be apolitical but instead ends up lacking in conflict and substance. And it's not exactly an RPG.

[stevesaxetogrind]

Truly those calling it “bad writing” that Robin and Vickie share similarities doesn’t make sense. She’s not been given enough time to be more than just a love interest, but we do have some info about her:

1. Molly Ringwald inspo, giving us shorthand about being kind of a quirky gal. Hat! Visually, she’s similar to Robin, but that’s not a bad thing because literally similar interests draw people together. She is also skirts vs Robin’s trousers. Femme/Soft Butch! You’re telling me Vickie would wear a tie? Lies.

2. Likes goofy jokes, namely Steve’s joke about Muppet Tammy. Which, Robin doesn’t laugh at Steve’s jokes that much- she dismisses them, but it means Vickie has a bit of a jocular sense of humour.

3. Vickie also likes Steve’s brand of movies, not Robin’s- which is pretty fucking funny. Again, this is not making Vickie similar to Robin, but to things shared with Robin’s Platonic Soulmate. Like, bro movies? Stupid lil jokes? I predict Steve and Vickie having a dad joke competition next season & torturing Robin with how corny they are. People like to talk about the similarities to Robin, but not the similarities to Steve! That’s kind of clever drawing Vickie closer to one of Robin’s favourite people, at least superficially.

4. Talks a lot when one on one, but Vickie wasn’t nervous/flustered in the band scene, so we can infer in more crowded spaces she acts differently/subdued - as like she was in the War Zone. This is unlike Robin who does actually ramble in group scenes, like freaking out over the thing in El’s leg, the rabies bit, or generally a lot of Season 4 where she looses her “cool girl” archetype from Season 3 in favour of chaos. Vickie seems more like she would quietly panic, as opposed to Eddie, Argyle, and Steve who all loudly go WHAT THE FUCK. Which is going to be interesting to see as the whole town is now thrown into an open gate downtown Hawkins probably releasing demogorgons every other hour like it’s Pacific Rim up in this bitch.

5. Meaningful look with Robin in the War Zone- not “oh hi band friend!” A scared/caught/dismayed look that she was there. So there is a connection, and she broke up with her boyfriend after that connection. Anything more is speculation, but the way she wasn’t looking at Robin when she gave the “he doesn’t like Fast Times” reason lets the audience draw points and maybe she felt trapped? Like it was just an excuse to pursue a different interest? Obviously because music is playing indicating a romantic relationship. We don’t have much to compare Robin with on this one, but around Keith she still had more confidence and bullshittery trying to convince him to hire Steve when Keith assumed they were a thing.

6. Vickie also doesn’t seem jealous. Robin is jealous. She was livid at Steve for being the object of Tammy’s affections, but Vickie hasn’t seemed to even look twice at Steve- even as Robin looked over at him while she and Vickie had her last scene.

For such a short amount of time in the season, I think that we have a good foundation for similarities and differences to Robin. Also, once again, it’s not a crime to avoid “opposites attract” tropes. Having similarities is good! Like, the amount of couples I know that are essentially the same archetype of queer person is not even close to zero. Especially when it comes to older queer couples who got together in the 80s/90s, they kind of morph into being one granola bar of a human being. Kind of similar with straight people when they genuinely like one another.

I hope they flesh Vickie out, but like, we’ve gotten a similar amount of screen time for Mr Clarke but no one is mad he is “one dimensional” when he is just, some exposition science guy. He’s a stock and standard teacher, has a girlfriend, and kind of goes along with explaining shit without questioning why a lot. But folks love Mr Clarke. Is it because Mr Clarke isn’t getting in the way of your ship?

I never thought I would see the day there were some true blue f/f ship wars, but bruh, Robin’s love life isn’t an A Plot so give the writers some slack. They’re human, not the devil. None of you were gleeks and it shows so fucking much. None of you lived through “angry lesbians on the internet don’t want me dating you”.

Personally I’m looking forward to Robin and Vickie getting together and maybe hopefully kicking monster butt together- or at least, Robin getting a nice little badass moment defending her gal.

[unholyhymns]

found this today so ill be having fun picking through it

[marzipanandminutiae]

hey nerd, you're a historical clothing person: whats the best fit for like genderqueer time traveler back on their bullshit?

I am, but you have to tell me more about what this genderqueer person likes to wear. I can't make any assumptions just from their gender identity.

Signed,

Someone who knows nonbinary folks who enjoy dressing like Marie Antoinette and nonbinary folks who enjoy dressing like stereotypical long-haul truckers, and everything in between.

PS- probably get a puffy white blouse though.

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 10

Synopsis: Game is preserved by game. And what games can one play? What about rewards? Our two lovers share some special moments.

A/n: Hey bitches, guess who's back from mental health crisis! Meeee. I love you all and sorry for the inconvenience and lateness!!! Slammed this one out. Quickly. Before the madness leaves me. Yall the best. Thanks

Oh, that man, you thought as you trolled the shops. Furiously as you slid the hangers across. The sound of metal slightly shrieking put you on edge. If you had been not just a post-marriage thing, but the next in a long line of so-called ‘assistants’ or ‘companions’, then you’d be the best damn one he’d ever have.

He wanted to play like he was human, play house with you. Something he never did before, he told you. There was a comfort and a ring of truth in those words. A lie? You felt yourself question. Or was he actually just telling the truth?

Maybe alien men weren’t total pigs like human men…you reasoned with yourself.

So many thoughts were swimming in your mind.

You angrily scooped up a few dresses and made your way to the changing room.

You chose a black number, slightly strappy, mid-length and a lower square neckline. You brought a little cardigan and it would match perfectly. The way the skirt flared gently but still held some grip to your thighs was excellent at providing some semblance of elegance. It hit at your knee, classy.

Now onto shoes…

You got a message from your Doctor, you headed to a café.

It was all very nice. Trite, but felt authentic. His long fingers carding through your hair felt lovely. It felt like a return to what you had back in Bristol. Your mind was calm, placid and you felt a bit better about the whole damn thing.

Like your walls were removed.

Sooner or later, you had to get ready and then the ebb of dark thoughts came back in tiny waves. You got frustrated and just started patting on a thick layer of glitter, and maybe a tad bit too much highlighter cream on.

You caught your reflection in the mirror. You looked manic. Beautiful, but oh-so-fucking-crazy. You toned down things just a tad.

Just a tad, you still wanted to be breathtaking…

You went back and leaned on the bed and caught your breath. You did your breathing exercises and collected yourself and gave one final check in the reflection of the metal of the barrack wall.

Once joining him, the nerves subsided. You mentally wondered if he had some pheromones or something like that. It felt good, though, safe.

The evening began and you went out with nary a hitch.

He took you to see some contrived show about the nature of social media and the ephemeral nature of family. (And murder!) You tried to enjoy it, you really did, but in the dark of the theatre, his face pale enough to reflect the stage light and the fact you could feel an electric current running through the two of you as you leaned in or lightly touched, your mind went slightly south.

The man was too attractive for your own good. And your lack of attention span was driving you to look at his face most of the time.

Thankfully, the play ended.

Performers came out to bow, lights went up and you were ushered out.

He even treated you to a bit of a romantic dinner. Although, he did grumble about there not being a children’s menu.

Almost very human.

You let your entire guard down.

It was impossible to not.

This entire day was disarming. More disarming than yesterday!

Your conflicted feelings fell away more and more. Outside of little trips to London for this whole UNIT thing, you could go back to Bristol. Go back to being (y/n) and Professor Smith. Build something real. Build something tangible.

You loaded yourselves into a cab back to the UNIT head quarters. His hands were also distractions. They felt so cruelly good inside or on you. They were also emotive and caring. Creatures in their own rights.

Suddenly, you felt very brave and extra insane.

You wanted them inside you in this very cab. And damn it! You were going to get your way!

You grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your right thigh, and leaned in to his ear, your other hand lightly toying with his hair.

“Fuck me with your fingers. Here, now.” You whispered, your voice going slightly husky.

He looked at you, a severe look passed and faded before he let out a slight laugh. Soft, but with a hint of something behind it.

“Now, my fawn?” Slightly shocked, but a Cheshire grin came out.

“Right now.” You ordered gently, the whisper came out a more a huff of air than a spoken set of words.

“One moment.” He said, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket. He grabbed something and pressed a button on it. It let a little noise.

“What is that?”

“Screwdriver, it’ll give us privacy. More or less.”

You nodded, a slightly slack-jawed, “Ah.” Escaped your mouth. “Some screwdriver.”

“You don’t even understand the half of it.” He said, as he leaned in to kiss your jaw and placed on hand at the hollow of your throat.

When he finally worked his way to your pussy, he slid with a finger your panties over.

“Already so soaked? Good girl…” He cheesed.

It made your head roll back. In your moment of ballsy control, he somehow made himself the one in charge. A mental flip over…

And you didn’t particularly mind.

Damn him.

You felt that deft long middle finger find your clit. His index and ring finger found themselves in the middle of your folds. You rolled your hips over and your legs parted a little bit more against the fabric of your dress. The circular motions of the finger on your clit driving you a little bit crazy…

You braced yourself against the seat of the cab.

He scooped his fingers down deep into you, pressing deep onto the walls. He kissed you and bit gently at your chin.

You moaned into the top of his mouth.

His long hands had the benefit of him being able to continue his motions on your clit and he stroked the lowest part of your pussy with his pinky finger.

The other three worked you senseless.

“You’re so filthy.” He praised you. The ‘r’ in ‘you’re’ drilled inwards.

Your stomach fluttered and flipped around.

You let out a grunting heave. Your hands firmly around his body and gripping the back of the seat. He worked his way against your walls more. Penetrating deeper, still.

Unfortunately for you, the big stupid tower that UNIT had was approaching in the foreground.

He grazed your chest with his teeth and pulled out of you. He took out the screwdriver and it made that noise again.

He paid the driver and pulled you out.

“Now, you be good and quiet through the hallways and I’ll give you what you want.” He ordered you.

You nearly flailed out.

There were still staff and soldiers milling about, as you went towards the lift, some even approached him with questions.

You were still wet and dreadfully turned-on! And twitchy. It seemed painfully unfair, he wound you up just enough to make you literally insane!

You needed him to fuck you.

You could literally feel the absence of his fingers inside you. Like a gaping wound.

Cruel.

The seconds dragged on for what seemed like years. These underlings of his really could drag themselves on! It was wholly unfair. The several Cocktails with St Germaine and Vodka and the level of lust hazing your vision and your orders to be quiet. You wanted to beg him to finish fucking you.

Soon enough you were in the stupid barracks.

“Strip.” He ordered plainly, unbuckling his pants and pulling down his pants and his underwear. His cock already standing at full attention.

You shimmied out of your dress and underwear.

“Kneel.”

You kneeled.

“You’ll get my hands in you if you do good here. I know you will.” His tone was somewhere between an order and a negotiable thoughtfulness. With a tad bit of praise wrapped in.

You really needed him to get you off. It was up there in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. ‘Get the Doctor’s fingers inside of you.’

So you obeyed.

You scooted forward and wrapped your hands around his ass and opened your mouth. You cracked your neck and inhaled. You pressed your tongue down on over your lower teeth and wrapped your upper lip over your top teeth. You slicked your tongue out just a bit more as you worked your way down his shaft.

He stabilized himself in your hair and the base of your neck, guiding you down deeper. He was fully inside your mouth. Gently, but still, he helped you go up and down as you continued to go down on him. A symbiotic, well-oiled machine. He guided you down and you licked and applied pressure.

All while you were still aching. All the need for him intensifying as you just kept clenching your thighs together. As if that’d stop the sensation of want…

This little trade-off was driving you mad!

You licked his entire shaft, swirling your tongue as you both continued the motions. Edging him with the hot breath coming out onto his tip, you clasped a tighter grip on his ass. You slipped down and went to purse your lips around the base…

He pulled himself out of your mouth.

“I’m going to finger you, as you want. Then…’ He said, pulling you up and shoving you onto the bed, flourishing his fingers…”I want to cum inside your mouth later.”

He pushed apart your legs and gave a deep lick to your cunt. Hard, quick, and lingering around.

He was insane! This was the most aggressive he’d ever been with you sexually. He braced himself on the bed frame and peered deep into your eyes as he maneuvered his other arm, and hand, down inside of you. You let out a giant tremble as he lay over you, dragging out the heavy petting and large sweeps inside you.

You gulped.

He somehow managed to get a few fingers inside you, probably because you were so soaked, and you were so nervous and eager to please. Or he was rather good with his fingers.

He played guitar.

Maybe that was why…

Your mind wandered gently away and you wanted to ask him to play for you…

You were so close. The waiting in the halls and him making you service him, really was a dangerous cocktail. A torture device, well fit for whatever this paramilitary organization had in their arsenals…

And here he was, fingers engulfed in your wet heat.

Suddenly you felt a shattering static, and the intoxicating waves of an orgasm and alcohol teamed up against you. You swore you could feel your vision somewhat fading around the edges. You felt rapidly breathless and were slow-blinking away from your orgasm waving through you.

The old man pulled his way up and gently pulled you down. You met halfway between the two.

“Open wide, sweetheart.” He cooed as he gripped his cock, jerking it. “Get that sharp tongue out. Don’t be shy, fawn.” It came out a velvet-wrapped order.

And yet again, you obeyed his orders to the mark!

Warm and salty, he came onto your tongue and tapped himself dry on your tongue.

You never liked the taste of cum, but you swallowed it, you figured that alien cum wasn’t as bad as human cum.

You tried to not gag…

He saw you balking at the taste and pet your hair.

“So good for me…you’re perfect, aren’t you?”

You nodded your head in affirmation.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead.

After a moment or two in just a lock up, you decided to shower. He joined you, simple, clean fun. Oddly sexless.

The morning came and you woke without a startle for the first time in what felt like your entire life. His one arm was wrapped around you, the feeling of his odd, two-hearted beating thrumming along. Like a white noise machine. His chest was pressed in earnest against your back.

It was the first time you’ve slept with a man, like truly, in the most simple description in years. It felt wonderful.

You didn’t know what time it was, your phone was still in your purse and the room lacked a clock, as far as you could tell. It was also windowless.

You managed to wriggle your way out to go to the bathroom and checked. It was half-eleven. He began to stir.

“Hey, go back to sleep.” You walked over and swooped a bit of his hair to the side. “I’ll go for a quick walk, I’ll be soon.” He rolled over and nodded.

You went out to check your phone, go outside and have a smoke, and prowl about. The hallways were milling with people and soldiers, busy.

You exited and lit up, Petronella was approaching the entrance.

“Hey, I know the perfect place for a brunch.” She exclaimed, clearly happy about the chance encounter.

You quickly dropped your cigarette and exhaled away from her face, remembering her asthma.

After a quick exchange you made your way back up to the barrack. He was fiddling around with some device. You’d like to think he changed his focus the minute he noticed that you entered, but it was a few seconds and he kept running his fingers and a real screwdriver on some screws as he went to look at you.

“So I was thinking that you and I could go to brunch.” You launched the idea. “Could be fun. Way better than a trip to Starbucks.” You added on.

“I could eat.” He announced.

The process to get you both out the door was a bit tough. As you kept find yourselves simply unable to keep your hands to yourselves. He was incorrigible!

But you did it anyway.

It was nice, Petronella came in clutch for you. It wasn’t a place catering to the yummy mummy crowd, nor the drunk hipster crowd. Very cozy. The seats were lush and you got a cozy, semi-cramped corner booth. All coiled up together…

You downed your first Bellini and your dishes were coming out.

You kept yourself from blurting out something.

The second Bellini pried it out.

“So tell me about these past companions…” You finally dropped as you sopped up a bit of oil with a piece of bread, you didn’t need to be completely sloshed yet.

He let out of derisive snort.

“I ran away with my granddaughter from my home planet. She encouraged me to pick up traveling companions when she married an Earthling. It’s been a cycle ever since. Although. I did give up after the last one. Especially after all my memories of her returned…no more companions. No more travel. Rehabilitate my ex-partner from my school days until she’s sane and no longer wants to take over the cosmos and kill off anyone. Catch and release. Teach on Earth until the planet meets it’s fire-y end.” He explained it all so nonchalantly. Boiled down. Reductive.

You nodded along and took a sip of his coffee.

“Never expected you, but, you’re my jealous little secret.” A dark, yet warm grim blazed across his face.

“And….how many….have you slept with?” You circled your pinky around the top of his glass.

“A few, rarely. I’m rather…adverse to sexuality usually. Sometimes it’s the right body and right time. Last one was this woman named Clara, we rubbed off on each other so poorly. She became too like me and I her, she died and I lost my mind, finally in the position I’ve left so many in. Four point five billion years inside of a hell of my creation to try to save her. In the end, my memory was wiped. It was brought back thanks to the ex-partner. You should meet her. One day. Missy is…Missy.” It seemed like his honesty had some subversion but still rang true.

“It’s a huge catalyst for why I’m retired from my endeavors. I’ll help UNIT out, but I need to find some peace. I’m an old man. I deserve a bit of rest.”

“Four point five billion years old.” You nodded, eyes bugged out of your head. “How’d that even work?”

“Oh, my ship is a time machine. She’s the big thing that’s covered in cloth in my office near my windows. She’s a Type-40 TARDIS. But because Clara rejected her resurrection, so to speak, the years snapped back. I’m only two thousand, as I said the other night!”

And here you were feeling slightly insane over thinking him in his sixties previously in the last week…

You scooped your hair put of your own face.

“Can’t fault you for wanting a break. I’m exhausted and I’m virtually just starting out in life. Can’t imagine living that long…” You gave a long hard stare into the distance…

You definitely couldn’t fault him there, having lovers. Or being too jealous. He was so...old…there was no way around it.

You especially couldn’t be worked up over his body count. You probably matched each other in some ways.

That was a lot of unpacking and decentering you had to do.

Your learning was never really done.

After all, you stop learning, you stop living…

“Any more inquiries?” He seemed to be jokingly prodding.

“Just don’t take me…off planet or back in time. Especially back in time.” You pointed to your face as if it were the obvious reason why that wouldn’t work.

“I never intend to.” He promised.

“Good.”

You finished up and made you way out, you took a walk around a park for a while, arms joined together.

It was nice. Like something in your life had finally clicked into place. Safety, potentially love, awareness…all that trite shit.

You couldn’t shake some feelings nor the sensation in your brain that something may be up.

But that was for future (y/n) to deal with. Today was just about relaxing with your man. Being normal. Finally getting something normal.

Maybe you both were being rewarded here.

[chubby-aphrodite]

i think grinding in an mmo should be considered cruel and unusual punishment