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foone · 1 year ago

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Your best guess is that you've been in this time loop for something north of 15 years. You've lived that day, April 9th, 1997, something like 6000 times. You think... The second most ironic thing about being in this time loop* is that you have ADHD, and time blindness has always been something you've suffered with.

The time loop hasn't helped. You'll really get into a book, and don't look up from it until it's yesterday. Or, earlier today? Or tomorrow, it's all the same day. You wake up in your bed at 8:27, having slept through your alarm, no matter what happens. You've had plenty of time to do all the classic time loop things: told everyone (they forget the next day), kissed everyone (a surprising number of people turn out to be up for itl), tried to run (you made it all the way to Memphis one day, but it didn't make any difference), tried to make everything perfect and right (harder than you'd think, and there's nothing obvious that needs fixing), and gotten yourself exploded and shot and run over. You even made it into orbit once, NASA still swearing at you on the radio the whole way up. You've robbed all the local banks, kidnapped the mayor, and stolen half the stuff in the town, just to see what people have. Why not? It's hard to have a sense of morality when there are no repercussions to any actions, at least none that last more than 24 hours.

You convinced a scientist to shoot neutrinos at you once, thanks to something you'd read in a book on time. Didn't seem to make any difference, though you could swear the next day felt different, in some hard to define way.

You've gotten into a rhythm of starting each day and just walking out your front door, to visit a different place in the city, and knock on their door. If they're home, you ask questions, then use the answers next time to get further. If not, you let yourself in and see what their house looks like from the inside.

Even their shocking crimes no longer can shock you. Mr. Stevens is a burgler, Jenny J. is halfway through murdering her husband, Alex over on 5th street has a basement full of photos they shouldn't have, and more neighbors than you'd think are cooking meth or growing cannabis in their little backyard sheds or closets.

You can go to the police, you can confront them, you can explose them, or you can get a weapon and go all vigilante on them... It doesn't matter in the long run (and for you, the long run is very short indeed). They'll be fine the next morning, back at it again like nothing happened.

You wake up that same Wednesday morning, put on some clothes, and walk out the door. You got into a gimmick of crossing the road with your eyes closed: you know where the cars are, and if you keep the same pace, they definitely won't hit you. Besides, if you do, you wake up back in your bed. Big woop.

But you don't make it to the road this time. You trip, falling on the hard concrete of the sidewalk. What the hell? Your arms ache from catching yourself, and you have to suppress the time-looper instinct of "I hurt. Restart the loop!",at least until you figure out what happened.

You look back and there's a sneaker sitting on the sidewalk. A perfectly normal shoe, just a little skuffed up. A bit down the sidewalk, there's another, the other foot presumably.

You have a moment of equal parts panic and elation. You're out of the loop? You're out of the loop! This might be Thursday.

You gather yourself from the sidewalk and run back up the path to your door. You open the newspaper... April 9th. This is still the same day. You look back at the road, seeing the patterns of crossing cars you've seen thousands of times before. You listen, and your neighborhood sounds right. You can hear Timothy down the road yelling about baseball, so it's not 9:14 yet.

This isn't a new day. This is the day. This is your day. So why is something different? What, a partial time loop? And almost time loop? Most things are the same, but not all? It makes no sense.

You hear yelling down the road. You jog towards it, as an out of place sound just doesn't happen in your day. Around the corner there's a police officer shouting at a woman who is rapidly disrobing and flinging her discarded clothes at the officer, who is shouting at her and his radio. So far, she seems to be winning, but she's about out of linen ammunition.

You realize you don't recognize her. She's not one of the people you know, and you know everyone. She's someone new, the very anthesis of what a time loop is about. That, combined with recognizing that charicatistic disdain for consequences makes you gasp. My God... She's another time looper. She's done this day before, and it's just repeated, and now she's doing everything to see what happens. You're not alone in this crowded city anymore! You run towards her, eager to introduce yourself.

* Themost ironic thing about being in this time loop is that every copy of Groundhog Day at your local Blockbuster is checked out.

#Time loop #my writing

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fayes-fics · 6 months ago

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Breathe (In The Air)

Pariring: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, 1970s AU

Summary: A night camping out under the stars

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, recreational drug use (cannabis), body hair used in foreplay, vaginal fingering, blow job, woman on top, unprotected vaginal sex.

Word Count: 2.6k

Authors Note: Request fill for Anon (HERE) asking for a sequel to 1970s hippie Benedict, travelling around in his VW bus selling his artwork at music festivals. Sorry for the gif; there was nothing else that remotely fit. The original story is HERE. The title is a Pink Floyd song. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for the beta. I hope you enjoy Nonny. I do enjoy this AU ngl. <3

“What do you want from life?”

You loll your head to the side to observe his handsome profile as he stares towards the dome of vibrant stars above.

“I have no idea,” you confess, turning to look skywards again, moonlight glowing through the swirl of smoke you exhale, your fingers toying with the tassels of the soft cotton blanket you both lay upon.

“I want adventure…” he declares, rubbing a hand over his bare midriff absentmindedly.

“Hmmm, that sounds wonderful,” you admit, handing him back the joint, that languid feeling enrobing your mind as the THC kicks in.

It's a temperate summer night, and you are lying together naked, tinny strains of music from a portable radio as you camp in a wildflower meadow en route to the next festival. After a series of magical nights with Ben in his VW bus at the last one, you couldn't resist when he offered for you to continue the journey onwards together.

He takes a deep drag, the tip glowing like the campfire you are lying in front of, before placing it aside into a metal ashtray and rolling over so he hovers above you, warm skin upon yours.

“I am glad you are on this adventure with me,” he remarks with a lopsided grin, the captivating beauty of his face dancing in the firelight.

“Same.” you concur, reaching to touch the daisy chain buried in his halo of riotous curls, somehow the blooms looking more vibrant in the serene state you are slipping into.

His hand slides languorously down your body from your throat to your lower belly, mapping your fire-warmed skin before lacing his fingers into the downy hair at the apex of your thighs, stirring that nascent buzz between your legs.

“I think this beautiful garden needs some flowers,” he opines silkily, his fingers circling in the strands there, petting gently as his brow twitches into a tempting arch.

He leans over you and plucks a few forget-me-nots from the tall grass, carefully separating each bloom on your stomach. Then, delicately, he weaves each tiny flower into your small thatch of hair, a mild tickle as the stems brush over your skin, making you giggle quietly. He smiles softly, your eyes meeting, then both tracking down the plane of your body as he continues to work quietly, humming gently along to the music.

“There… perfect,” he pronounces proudly; a few moments later,

It does indeed look pretty: bright blue tiny flowers that contrast strikingly with your hair and skin.

“Even in this, you are an artist,” you quip blithely.

He smiles demurely through his lashes, shuffling lower and resting his head upon your diaphragm, his fingers tracing soothing patterns around your belly button, his breath puffing warm over your flesh. Allowing the jangle of electric guitar from the radio to fill your bones, your fingers run idly through his luscious locks as your mind floats like cotton in a breeze. The moment seems fleeting but everlasting all at once, profound but insignificant, being so small under the twinkling constellations above. It all coalesces into a sharp need to feel rooted in your body. So you draw your knees up and allow your legs to fall open—a blatant invitation. The apple of his cheek presses into your belly as he smirks knowingly without looking up at you, sensing your need without you needing to voice it, so in tune with your body and desires since the night you met.

“Every beautiful garden should have a sacred fountain…” he rumbles, fingertips spidering down again over the floral weave to tease your splayed inner thigh before sliding casually lower, parting your folds, exhaling roughly at the wet warmth he finds there.

You moan; the mellow cloud you float upon heightens the sensation rippling through your being as his fingers circle your clit, his warm lips suckling gently on your stomach as you writhe under his touch. His name is a sigh upon your lips, his movements unhurried but the perfect amount of pressure. He huffs sonorous praises into your belly as he forms a tighter circle over your swollen bud, moving faster now, your hands flying to the blanket, scrunching in your fists as your head rolls to one side, wanting to bite down upon something, the pleasure coursing through you amplified by your high.

Whimpering as he slides his fingers lower, two breaching your body, desire thick and viscous dripping upon him as he pushes further in your pussy. The sensation of his knuckles dragging over your walls makes you gasp and call out, your body arching up off the blanket, a heavy throb in your abandoned clit.

“Please, Ben…” you implore, greedy for more.

He shushes you and unfurls slightly, his fingers flexing inside you as he rearranges to press his whole body into your flank, his cock teasingly hard against your hip, using his free hand to haul one of your legs over his, pulled open to his attention now.

“Don't be impatient; we have all the time in the world,” he tuts sinfully, his lips hot on your throat, grazing the tip of his teeth lightly over your jugular.

Your protesting mewl is cut short by his fingers twisting inside you, a dragging sensation that makes your eyes roll and your whole abdomen clench.

“I could do this for hours,” he confesses silkily, his breath hot on your temple. “I love the look on your face when I do this…”

He curls his fingers, a probing sensation that makes you groan and your face contort, your mouth now hanging open. He chuckles triumphantly before twisting his wrist again and beginning a rocking motion, wringing a sound from your body that, before you met him, you may have been ashamed of, but he lauds every time. Him murmuring how proud he is that he can do this to you.

But it is not quite enough to push you to the edge as fast as you are craving, more of a slow swirling ascent that has you lighthearted and with laboured breathing, your abdomen rippling as all your muscles tense and release in waves, as if willing your orgasm closer, an itch in your brain you need to scratch. It has you pleading with him to take pity, go a little faster, rougher, anything…

“Syncopate, sweet girl…” he purrs, “listen to the music, breathe in the air, float away with the universe…”

Each word is a lyrical wave tumbling from his lips in a rhythm that matches the movement of his fingers inside you. So you relax back, savouring the multisensory journey, allowing the flow to take you rather than chasing immediate pleasure. Something morphing in your body as you do so, a serenity that is bone-deep, riding the gentle waves of pleasure that lap at your edges while his fingers dance lightly upon your g-spot.

“That’s it….” he rumbles approvingly, intuiting your surrender.

He slips down to enclose your areola in his hot, wet mouth, once again causing a spike of pleasure that has you clenching upon his fingers and canting up. A firm hand on your solar plexus pushes you back down with a chuckle that vibrates your nipple, now firm under his tongue. And so he continues the slow, wondrous torture, swapping to your other breast.

You swear you can feel every blade of grass under your shoulders through the soft cotton weave, the energy of every star above you in the sky coursing through his touch deep inside, every note of the song playing reverberating under your skin. A high, so delicate but earthy, as if everything is turned up to eleven on a dial, tangy and bright, like popping candy throughout your entire being.

It's then he swipes his thumb over your engorged clit; you could swear a supernova fires in your synapses, the sensation all at once too much, and with a few flicks, you are clawing at the blanket and his skin, biting your lip, circling that phenomenal bliss.

This time, he doesn't relent, his lips sucking your neck as with a cry that you are sure startles every animal burrowed in the surrounding fields; you are breaking. Almost febrile, your entire being flushing hot, every muscle tensing, your pussy grasping his fingers to the point he growls, driving his stiff cock into your hip, precum smearing over your skin. Still, it’s something you barely sense, your entire focus pinpointed on the sensations coursing through your body.

At last, you fall back, exhausted and panting, feeling his fingers slip slowly from your body with a gush of moisture that leaks across your bottom. You turn your head to look at him, mind awash, unable to form words. His responding smile is smug, crooked and sheer debauchery, his fingers still wet with your arousal, tracing soothing patterns over your ribs as you come down.

“May I return the favour…?” you croak finally.

Before you know it, he is rolling onto his back next to you, an expectant, joyous look upon his face, eyes tracking pointedly to his navel as do yours. His cock standing proud and leaking slightly—a mouthwateringly inviting sight.

He howls, and his whole body flexes as instead of taking him in hand, you dive low and bring his cock into your mouth, so rigid and searing. That tart taste is strong on your tongue as you suckle upon his head, allowing your tongue to press against his frenulum in a cresting wave. He groans staccato, his pelvis tilts, unable to resist the urge to push a little deeper, one hand landing heavy in your hair, twining some strands between his fingers, an anchor he needs as you begin to bob up and down sucking hard, your cheeks hollowing.

The wash of your high enhancing every second, as if in tune with his body—the micro spasms rippling across the plane of his washboard stomach, the flutter of his long eyelashes, the blunt scrape of his rounded fingernails over your scalp, the pulse of his vein on your lips as you slowly allow him to pass through the tight ring of your mouth, teasing him as much as he did you.

You chuckle as he huffs as you pull away and instead lick the length of his shaft with a questing tongue, your hands encircling his base and squeezing softly, enjoying the handful he provides, watching a bead of precum form that you lavishly lick up. He groans again, his head thrashing upon the blanket, the delicate fronds of daisy petals scattering like confetti into his chestnut waves as he does so, his lip flushing magenta where his incisor worries it.

It makes you sit up and stare down upon him wantonly, so utterly beautiful in his untamed arousal. His eyes fly open, glassy and pleading in the campfire glow, pouting fractionally at the lack of your mouth upon his cock, your hand still pumping him gently. Instead, you swing a leg over his and, without a moment of hesitation, sink onto him, inhaling shudderingly at the invasion, your pussy still inflamed from your recent orgasm.

The look of absolute pleasure and reverence that claims his handsome features feels burned into your retinas as his hands fly to your hips, pushing you down flush to his body, his pubic hair tickling your distended slippery clit, his tip rocking into your hilt in a way that makes your eyes roll.

“Don't move, not yet, just feel…” he counsels, his eyes closing, licking his lips and encouraging you, with the flex of his fingers, to rotate your pelvis, to feel him drag against all your walls.

And so you do, scratch your nails delicately down his abdominals as you stare out to the inky horizon where the navy sky meets the blackened outline of the hedgerows in the distance—again, letting the melodic song seep into your bones, feeling the heat from the dancing flames.

You lean back and arch your spine, placing your hands upon his kneecaps, his legs bending slightly to meet your grip. His hands roam upwards, over your belly and ribs, enclosing each of your breasts in his large grip, a beeline right to your core, already a live wire again, desire coursing in every fibre of your being.

Then in a deliberate slow drag, you rise slowly before dropping swiftly, revelling in the way his cock pushes you open. A groan from deep inside your being a match to his—throaty, low, wrecked. You begin to set a languid pace, riding him, gripping his knees behind you and staring at the stars above, feeling as if they surround you, tiny lanterns floating just beyond your reach.

“Look at me,” his call is soft, unfocused, imploring, and you tilt down, your breasts squashed into his palms as your eyes meet, something profound in the glimmer you find in the dilated blackness.

Sex has never been this unrestrained before now. Being with him is liberating, wild and luxuriant every time, be it under the influence or not. But tonight, somehow greater than the previous, an inherently verdant setting, alone in the wilds on a balmy night, away from the crowds always in your periphery at the music festival. A large part of you wanting this to be your new forever—naked and feral, entwined together for a blur of future days and nights. A want to live a primitive life of base urges, to feast and to fuck, to be at one with the land, the seasons and the bounteous simplicity of nature.

Time feels elastic as your thighs start to burn from the exertion. Still, you do not stop, not for a moment, too caught up in the tide slowly rising once more and sensing the same in him. A growing desperation in the way his fingers dig into your flesh, in the wild beating of the prominent vein in his neck, in the rise of his hips to meet yours, spearing up as you bear down so it feels like there will always be the imprint of him inside you.

He calls your name, the callus where he holds his paintbrush catching perfectly over your clit as his fingers quest between your legs, hooking you with unerring precision. Catapulting you fast towards a dizzying high again, his movements growing urgent, his jaw tight, so close to breaking. It is barely a moment before you snap again, stilling upon him as you scream with abandon, fluttering around his rigid cock. He groans loudly and, with a few final jerky spasms, comes hard, his toes curling over, his ropey thighs turning rock solid under your bottom as he fills you, a symphony of praise falling from his lips, some not even in English.

And then you are slumping on top of him, his smooth chest tacky under your cheek as you gulp for air, the rustle of the breeze through the nearby trees and the hiss and pop of the logs upon the campfire the only sounds now, the radio falling silent, likely needing new batteries. He slips from your body as you curl your hands around his biceps and snuggle upon him. His long, lean arms wrap around your torso, enveloping you within the large blanket you were lying upon and dropping a kiss upon your dewy brow.

“We can bathe tomorrow in the river,” he hums gently into your hairline.

You nod drowsily, the pull of sleep too beguiling to resist. And that is how you drift off, resting atop him, his heartbeat strong and steady under your ear, the burbling sounds of nature encircling you.

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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princessbrunette · 4 months ago

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you were headed to the control tower. it was the haven above the camp that saw everything, heard everything — and yet felt so out of reach and oddly peaceful. that’s where apocalypse!pope always resided, and today was like no other.

obviously, at the end of the world it’s not often you see anyone skipping around, singing and jumping for joy — but pope had been real moody. it was totally valid, since sarah died and all… but the group had finally been finding ways to cope. moments of solace. moments of laughter and joy where you could forget for a second what the world had become. but not pope, no — he’d lost so much. he was tense, you could see it in his body language from the way his shoulders were all tight and you could see the hunger for revenge in his eyes. there was nothing you could do or say to ease that, hell — you’d come to terms with the fact he’d probably drive himself straight into his death over it… but you could try and prolong it. take some weight off his shoulders even for a moment.

“knock knock!” you hum brightly, not wanting to startle him as you poke your head round the door, the sweet chime of your voice accompanied by two solid wraps at the tower door. you were still a little out of breath from climbing all the steps up when pope glances over his shoulder at you before promptly removing his headphones.

“oh, hey.”

as you step inside, you’re quick to gently close the door behind you. you got the sense that pope enjoyed being shut off from the outside. when he realises you’re here to stay, he swivels round in his chair to face you — slumped in his hoodie. “anything i can do for you?”

“no uh, thought i’d hang for a bit if that’s okay?”

his first instinct is to say no and busy himself with something else — but it was you, so his eyes soften and he shrugs.

“well, i’m not much fun right now. i’ve spent hours checking through the index of radio stations i can connect mine to. whoever we heard last week must’ve just been passing through.” he converses, wringing the wire of his headphones between his wrists. “or it’s rafe, just messing with us.” at the mention of the eldest cameron his nose curls and his eyes are cast down angrily — never missing an opportunity to spit venom at the killer.

you nod sensitively, shuffling a little closer. “right, yeah. could be.” you breathe — and let him cool off until he’s back with you, eyes flickering back up. “do i smell…”

that pretty smile reaches your lips and you dig into your pocket, pulling out the joint. “should’ve known you’d pick it up.”

some guy on your camp had been farming cannabis since you’d let him in. he offered a pretty sick trade, do his daily tasks and he’d hand you a generous lump— even roll it for you if you bat your lashes. pope grins too at first, and then it’s like he catches himself and he swallows it down, clearing his throat.

“yeah…uh, as much as i’d love that right now i should probably… keep the signal clear. you know, just incase.” you wanted to grip him by the shoulders and shake him. just let yourself have fun. stop punishing yourself.

“pope,” you deflate. “it’s been a week since you’ve come into contact with anyone through the radios. you’ve been sitting in here, cooped up, alone. just… a few hours of relaxation. that’s all i ask.” you pull out the doe eyes, and it’s like he’s the tiny insect in your venus fly trap because it works and he tips his head back sighing before nodding.

“fine. do you have a lighter or are we gonna have to do this the old fashioned way?”

an hour passes — and with the help of the stale doritos in your backpack, a joint, and some well deserved giggles, somehow you’ve relaxed pope to the point of having his pants around his ankles, ass scooched right to the edge of his seat where he slumps back, legs open with you between them.

you stare up at him sweetly through red iris as you pull off for a moment, savouring the moment and licking up his pearly precum. he lets out a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as if momentarily regaining the consciousness.

“how did we… end up here?” he strains and you hum out a sound that resembles ‘i dunno…’ before pulling off with a wet pop.

“jus’ enjoy it… you taste good.”

“fuck.” he sighs, resting the crevice of his arm over his forehead as he leans back. you push him further into your mouth, and it’s like something snaps — the resistance he’d been putting up. momentarily, he’s limp — before suddenly he’s pushing his hips up, gagging you.

“shit, i’m sorry. i’m so… fucking sorry.” he moans, gentle hands contradicting his actions as he caresses your hair and rubs at your scalp with his thumbs all whilst using you as handlebars to fuck your throat. wet gags fill the room, and if you weren’t so hazy and out of it you might’ve needed a moment— but instead you let him, aroused and lazy as he manhandles your face. “feel so good— you— make— me— feel— better.” each word is punctuated with a thrust, before soon he’s throwing buckets of his warm seed down you.

there’s not a second of hesitation post orgasm before his guilt settles back in and he’s leaning forward, eyes wide and red as he holds your cheeks watching you sniffle and splutter.

“hey, hey— was i too rough? i’m sorry beautiful. god, i’m sorry.”

as soon as you can speak, you do. “pope, s’okay!” you squeak, letting out a giggle that relieves him enough to pause, catching his breath. “i liked it. i liked seeing you let go.”

“…probably let go a little too much.” he’s pulling his pants up and you shrink a little, watching him spin back round to the radios. “knowing my luck i missed something, missed a communication or—”

“you didn’t.” you interrupt, and he turns back round, analysing you. before he says a thing, your brows furrow. “nothing happened. you just relaxed. come down to the house pope. sleep.”

“i sleep in here—”

“not tonight.” you’re still on your knees, clammy hands clasped pathetically on your lap with his arousal actively drying into your skin. “please.”

pope blinks, melting just a little more once before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the centre of your forehead.

“okay.”

#apocalyse!au #pope heyward prompt #apocalypse!pope #u wake up in the night and he’s no longer holding u because his anxiety told him to go back to the control tower the end

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un-ionizetheradlab · 4 months ago

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Russia just freed SIXTEEN political prisoners in a prisoner swap with the West!

Among the released political prisoners are:

Oleg Orlov, a longtime dissident and the co-chair of Memorial, an organization created in 1989 to chronicle the USSR's human rights abuses and educate Russians about the history of political repression;

Sasha Skochilenko, an LGBTQ artist who was imprisoned in April 2022 for replacing price tags at grocery stores with data about Russian destruction in Ukraine, deemed treasonous under Russia's "fake news" law;

Vladimir Kara-Murza, a political dissident who was fundamental in bringing about the Magnitsky Act to sanction Russian human rights abusers, and who was poisoned twice by the KGB in attempted assassinations before being sentenced to 25 years in prison for "treason";

Evan Gershkovich, a young American journalist who was arrested in Russia while reporting for the Wall Streeet Journal in March 2023 and sentenced to 16 years in prison for "espionage";

Paul Whelan, American former Marine who was arrested in 2018 and sentenced to 16 years of hard labor for "espionage";

Alsu Kurmasheva, a Russian-American journalist with Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty who was sentenced to 6.5 years in prison for spreading "fake news" about the war in Ukraine;

Andrei Pivovarov, an opposition activist who headed the pro-democracy organization Open Russia before being imprisoned in a Siberian penal colony infamous for its torture of prisoners;

Ilya Yashin, a young opposition politician who was sentenced to 8.5 years in prison for publishing YouTube videos about the war in Ukraine; when Russian authorities "encouraged" him to leave the country, he chose instead to stay;

Lilia Chanysheva, opposition activist and regional coordinator of Navalny HQ; in her final speech before the Russian court, she tried in vain to appeal to the judge's sense of empathy: "If you put me in jail for 12 years, I will be too old to bear a child. Give me a chance to be a mother!";

Kevin Lik, a dual German-Russian citizen who was arrested as a minor for "photographing military sites" shortly before the 2022 invasion of Ukraine; he was the youngest person ever to be convicted of treason in Russia;

Rico Krieger, a German man sentenced to death in Belarus for supposedly planting explosives on a railroad track to help the Ukrainian army;

Dieter Voronin, a dual German-Russian citizen and political scientist who was arrested in 2021 in connection to a treason case involving Russian journalist Ivan Safronov;

Patrick Schobel, a German man arrested in February 2024 at the Pulkovo International Airport in St Petersburg when customs officers found cannabis gummies in his luggage, in a scenario very similar to that of Brittney Griner;

German Moyzhes, a dual German-Russian citizen and lawyer who was charged with treason for helping Russians obtain European residency permits;

Vadim Ostanin, opposition activist and Navalny associate arrested in 2021 for his work with Navalny's Anti-Corruption Foundation;

Ksenia Fadeyeva, dissident and Navalny associate sentenced to 9 years in prison.

#russia #россия #prisoner swap #evan gershkovich #paul whelan #vladimir kara murza #sasha skochilenko #alexei navalny #oleg orlov #ilya yashin #dissident #dissidents #саша скочиленко #владимир кара мурза #илья яшин #андрей пивоваров #andrei pivovarov #алексей навальный

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carionto · 1 year ago

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Party Moon

Humanity expands to every corner it can inhabit. Oftentimes to ones they can't, but decide they'll deal with the whole "the land is lava, the sea is poison, the air is radiation" once they're there.

One of the earlier attempts at expansion was on one of Saturn's moons - Iapetus.

They shot lasers at it until it got warmer and made an atmosphere.

Once it did (sorta) the first colonists began experimenting with outdoor farming, among other things, to become fully self-sufficient. Due to a mix of low gravity and *something* in the thin atmosphere, many plants failed to grow at all, but a few mutated and started to thrive. None of them, however, were nutritionally capable of ensuring Human survival and well being. Not because they lacked certain core elements, but because they all invariably developed additional... properties.

Not even one month in and the Human government stopped receiving regular reports from Iapetus and nobody seemed to leave the moon either. Worried about some kind of horrible malfunction or outbreak, the investigative team quickly discovered that it was fine. Everything was, like, so fine.

They couldn't even describe how fine. Like sand, but less coarse, not as irritating. In fact, not irritating at all, more like...

waterfalling into a sweet blossoming cherry tree enveloped by your mother's arms held so tightly you never wanna let go of t h e

Oh right - cannabis.

Yeah, most things just kinda evolved to sorta have euphoria inducing properties, but on a bit of a delay. The spores hang around in the air and after a while they begin to interact with the chemicals the heating up process released into the atmosphere. Then the regular pheromones they release change into toxins that have a mild effect on Human brains.

Thing is, we suspect it was deliberate. The ones in charge of the agriculture effort must have realized what was happening, but ignored it. Or worse, expanded it themselves. There were an awful lot of open air farms for the small number of colonists at first. After this "discovery" instead of turning things around into a more safe environment, they made almost the entire moon into a giant farm for this stuff.

They even started packaging the stuff, calling it "Ia-peace-it-up", and now it is one of the most popular recreational drugs among Humans.

The moon itself is now both heavily guarded by volunteer fleets at all times, and has thousands of structures built for the sole purpose of "partying it up".

We requested a radio blocker be placed around it because of all the unsolicited messages the rest of the Galaxy started to receive from it. They begrudgingly agreed to "turn it down a bit".

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto

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stoneyocean · 1 year ago

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#420 festival #Artists #Cannabis music festivals #commercials #hiphopmusic #magazines #Movies #Music #music blogs #New music #New video #newspapers #radio #radio shows #reality TV #Social Media #streaming content #tv shows #venue

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makingloveinvskitchen · 17 days ago

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This is #JustATouchof_J .. Everything else is God. I’m just tryna put it all out there in pieces for you baby.

View my todays latest post / article blog here:

Listen to my latest podcast here:

For all access to my #JustATouchof_J experience:

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octuscle · 1 year ago

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Studying has been so stressful lately ? Have you got something to help me relax ?

Thursday morning, 8:00 a.m. You park the old Toyota Prius that you took over from your mother in the student parking lot. Thank God it's the weekend soon, you think. But you don't feel like going to the microeconomics lecture right away. Integration of AI in the pricing of inhomogeneous markets. Unfortunately, you're not one of those nerds who can jerk off to the lecture notes. But you have to go through it now. Before you go in there, you surf through Instagram a bit. An ad for Chronivac TimeTravel pops up. It looks silly… Kind of like a role-playing game. You have to choose a character. You think about how your dad always raves about his college days. Maybe it would be cool if it was 1983. And if you were a bodybuilder. A stupid meathead. You choose that as your character. You'll worry about the rest later. Your lecture is about to start. And you still have to fight your way through the group of activists protesting against the climate policy.

The lecture is really too complicated for you. AI is a complex subject. But in combination with microeconomics? Whoever came up with that… You breathe a sigh of relief when the lecture is over. As well as you can with your face mask on. This pandemic is really exhausting. But it's good that at least there are lectures in presence again. This videoconference crap is really not mature yet. Next lecture is Spanish for Business. That's more your thing. The professor is really hot. Good motivation to go back to the workout later. You've been spending every free minute in the gym for two months, and you're starting to see results.

During the lunch break you sit with the lads from the wrestling team. Wrestling is not your thing. But the lads look like bulls. And you like that. You talk about the legalization of cannabis in Canada. That would be a cool thing here too. You've pretty much given up smoking and alcohol since you got into bodybuilding. But you don't think there's anything wrong with a little weed now and then.

At 4:00 p.m., university is over for you for the day. You sit down in the five-year-old VW Jetta that you took over from your mother. It's really embarrassing. You feel ashamed every time you drive it to the gym. Let's see, maybe you can at least put a cool matte black finish on it…

The workout was awesome again. You totally forgot the time. You're back in your car at 9:00 p.m. and drive to your dorm. You turn on the news while you prepare your dinner. China's Vice President Xi Jinping is appointed vice chairman of the Communist Party's military commission. The 57-year-old is seen as a potential successor to state and party leader Hu Jintao. Boring stuff… You certainly don't have to remember that name.

The alarm clock rings at 5:00 am. Breakfast. And off to the gym. The car radio is talking about a possible invasion of Iraq. Many of your buddies from the gym were in the army or navy… Their nerves are on edge. You can understand if you still have friends or family who might have to go to war. But 09/11 must be avenged!

Before university, leg training is the order of the day. You are proud of your colossal thighs. Many of your buddies only work out the upper body. You have the best proportions here. You've only been lifting iron for two years. But for you it's not a leisure activity, for you it's a religion.

You're just in time for your lecture. Game theory. You take your pad and pen and start taking notes. A laptop would be really cool right now. But you know four or five people on campus who have one. It's just incredibly expensive… But you won't need much longer for your bachelor's degree in sport management. Then you will hopefully be able to afford something like that. And hopefully also a new car. Your Jeep Wrangler is a cool car. But it's also eleven years old. Built in 1980… At least it gets you to the gym at 4:00 p.m. reliably.

Some dumbass turned on CNN instead of MTV on the workout floor. Some shit with the Soviet Union. Apparently everything is falling apart there and the former Soviet republics are forming a new union. Boring shit. Fortunately, someone quickly switches back to MTV. Good Vibrations with Marky Mark. Cool guy. But quite a weakling. You do a double bicepz pose in front of the mirror. You've been here every free minute for almost three years. Maybe you should be in one of those music videos.

After your workout, you wanted to go straight to bed. But it's Friday night. 10:00 p.m. The lads ask if you'd like to go to the late show of the new film with Michael J. Fox. Back to the Future. Why not. The movie's pretty funny, too. Time travel. Strange conception… But you like the idea…

Saturday morning, October 22, 1983. At 10:00 you're back at the Gym. On the way here, you've been listening to the radio about peace demonstrations in Europe. The Russki is once again threatening nuclear war. And we are stationing Pershings in Germany. Bonnie Tyler's "total eclipse of the heart" is playing from the speakers in the gym. Fuck the Russki and fuck the Germans. You're all about getting your muscles burning. At 2:00 p.m., your shift at the counter begins. Tonight you and your pals are going to wrestling. That would be a cool alternative. You as the new Hulk Hogan! But until that happens, you help out at the gym on weekends. And during the week, you'll drive a backhoe on a construction site. Hey, it's a cool life. You don't want any other!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #muscle transformation #tank top #time warp

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hoe4healy · 1 month ago

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☆The 1975☆

Writing a one shot for every song based off the lyrics enjoy you slags xx

tags: 18+, choking, cum play, mild fingering, dry humping, idk what else its just freaky that's it

W/C no fucking clue

The time hits 12:00 on the car stereo, music is playing softly from the radio as you turn your head in the foggy car, and the smell of weed fills your nose like a wave as you witness the same boy you used to play tag with now smoking a spliff in a used and damaged Corvette that he bought on sale. Your head heavy as you rest it on the car seat headrest, your body tilted slightly to face him—his dark curls perfectly shaping his face, half-lidded eyes, and shirt opened just enough to see the tattoo on his chest—what a sight for sore eyes. Your eyesight is fuzzy from the smoke, and you don't realise he's unintentionally facing you, the joint hanging loosely from his cherry-red lips and his hand resting on your thighs.

"You like what you see, love," he says in a slightly raspy voice with a British accent, sending chills down your spine as you acknowledge that maybe you do. You shrug and turn to face the window, but he knows that a single touch could break you, so he rests his calloused fingers against your chin and turns your head to face him. He smirks as he pulls the joint from his lips and inserts it between yours. "Eyes on me, love," he asserts.

"Now you gotta tell me whats going on in that mind of yours...you've never been this quiet in your whole life" Matty tilts his head towards you, his gaze meeting yours as he taps his finger on your forehead, lifting his brow in curiosity. "Cat got your tongue sweetheart?" He asks, his voice low and rough now, eye contact not breaking, while you shake your head 'no' finally getting your thoughts together."What makes you think I'd actually tell you what I'm thinking...Healy?" You sneer at him playfully, knowing full well that you've told him each and every thought you've ever had. "Because I'm asking nicely, so will ya?" He pouts at you, his doe eyes begging, the cannabis having turned his eyes red and glossy. "What do I get in return?" You enquire, sliding in closer to him, lips barely brushing against each other as the smell of cheap cologne and cigarettes hits, the car gear pressing into your side as you wait for his response taking a long drag of the joint blowing the smoke out softly as you pass it back to him in one swift motion.

"I can make those thoughts into reality, love," he winks, unable to say it with a straight face , laughing as he pulls away, a smile growing on his lips as he looks at you, throwing the joint into the ashtray. Matty hums to the music as he says smoothly, "What do you want, love?" Tilting his head down, his breath fanning across your lips, his hand glides to the nape of your neck as he draws you closer, his lips meeting yours, the taste of weed filling your mouth, his hand now in your hair, tugging slightly as he holds your head in place. "You know I'd do whatever you asked, right? love" You nod against his lips as he places the palm of your hand on his chest, directly over his tattoo, his heart beating steadily beneath your touch. "Uh-uh, none of that love, you gotta use your words," he said softly but firmly leaving no room for silence, forcing you to wrap your thighs around his left hand.

"Want you" You blurt out, your eyes widening as you grasp what you just uttered, "Want me?" Matty repeats, a slow, playful smile creeping over his face. His eyes brighten with amusement and desire. He leans in close again, his nose brushing against yours. "Want me how?, sweetheart," he says softly, sending thrills down your spine. "Anyway, you want." You add the weed, causing you to lose all track of thought, making you blurt out whatever comes to mind as you bite down on your bottom lip. "Mmm, anyway I want, huh?" Matty chuckles smoothly in disbelief, his free hand reaching up to gently tug on your bottom lip, releasing it from between your teeth. He pulls back slightly, his eyes scanning your face, drinking in your flushed cheeks and glazed over eyes.

He wraps his hands around your waist and lifts you onto his lap in one swift motion as if you weighed nothing. He gives a gentle grunt as you are hoisted onto his lap. His arms instinctively wrap around your waist, supporting your weight. He places you securely on his lap, his face buried in your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair. "Fuck, you smell so good, love."

"I wore the perfume you like." You whisper into his ear, casually placing your arms around his neck and looking down at him teasingly. Matty's arms tighten around your waist, possessively. "You did, did you?" He breathes against your neck as he pulls away to stare at you, his voice low and sultry, and his hands begin to roam over your back, his touch light yet firm, causing you to slowly move your hips against his. "For me, love?" he states. "Only for you." You exhale out quietly at the sight of him beneath you, causing your mind to race with ideas, unaware that your hips are now grinding into him more desperately. Matty's hands immediately sink to your backside, limiting your movement. "Sweetheart, your killin' me here," he replies, his voice strained. His face contorts with ecstasy as you push against him, and his breathing hitches as he sucks in his air.

"You want me to stop?" You ask teasingly, knowing that the response is unavoidably no. "Don't you dare..." Matty says gruffly, gripping your backside. His head tilts back slightly, revealing his Adam's apple, as he swallows deeply, his eyelids fluttering closed. "Thats what I thought." You whimper against the crook of his neck, your body trembling in pleasure as your hands reach for his hair, tugging his head back even farther, causing him to gasp. Matty's grasp on you tightens, his fingers piercing into your soft flesh as you press against him. His head falls back even further, resting on the headrest, and his entire body tenses up as he lets out a deep gutteral moan. "Love..." he exhales, barely audible.

"Mhm," you hum, lifting your head. Matty's gaze snaps to meet yours, his eyes wild and urgent. He looks at you as if he is starving and needs you to breathe. His lips parted slightly, releasing a small whimper, and his hands remain on your hips. You lower your hand down between you, palming at the boner that is now straining against his trousers as you kiss down his jawline. Matty's body shudders as you touch him, and his breath catches in his throat. He gives out a small gasp as you kiss along his jaw, his grip on you tightening as if he is terrified you will disappear if he lets go. "Fuck..love," he exhales, his voice trembling "please" he gasps out.

"please what?" You demanded, biting down on his neck and pausing to await a response. Matty's hips buck upward, seeking friction. "More," he asks, his voice husky. His hands glide inside your shirt, tugging it up and over your head before tossing it away. "Touch me, love...please," the "please," sounding even more frantic than before, his fingers splayed across your naked back. "Healy, c'mon now use your words...more of what?" You say, teasingly pouting innocently at him as you repeat what he said to you only 10 minutes before. Matty swallows deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing. He looks up at you, his eyes pleading for relief. "More of your hands, more of your mouth, god... more of you under me, over me, around me." He rasps, and you smile to yourself, understanding you've broken the guy who once wielded all of your power.

"Well, if you put it that way, I'm all yours." You utter into his ear. Matty lets out a choking cry, his hands grabbing your thigh securely as he draws you back in for a crushing kiss, taking up your mouth and so you breathe through your nose. He pulls away, his chest heaving. You pull him back in roughly by his collar, moaning against his lips, your hands quivering as you fidget with his jeans' zip. Matty's hips rise from the car seat as you slide the pants down, his breath hitching and washing over your skin. "Keep going...", he states "yes sir" you let out a breathy moan as you lift up your skirt so its wrapped around your waist, Matty's eyes darken as you lift up your skirt, his thumb brushing against your inner thigh now "I want you now" he pants, his face flushed."Then take me," you respond desperately yet sternly,gasping out quietly, your head falling back in pleasure as he pushes himself into you, feeling the way you clench around him, causing him to let out loud moans, pulling your hair back forcefully as he crashes into you and kisses your collarbone. "Fuck your so tight," he murmurs against your exposed flesh.

Matty sees stars as he feels your tight pussy clenching around his dick.He fucks you with reckless abandon, his hips crashing against yours as you roll your hips into him with with a brutal force. His hands reach up to wrap around your throat, gently squeezing as he pounds into you. "Look at me." You nod obediently, your vision blurred from the choking, and you let out stuttered gasps while pressing your nails into his shoulders. Matty's face contorts with pleasure as you look down at him, his hips thrusting upwards in a steady beat. "That's it... cum for me baby," he groans as he feels your orgasm building up, thrusting into you erratically as he feels his own release barreling down on him, his hands tightening around your neck desperatly.

With one final moan, your orgasm rushes over you, causing your legs to twitch and shiver with pleasure as your nails begin to draw blood on his naked skin, become onto his chest. The car is now humid and uncomfortably heated as you regain your breath against his skin, your hips continuing to rock against him in jolts as you ride out your high. With one final thrust, Matty achieves his own release, burying his face in the crook of your neck to mask his groans, the vibrations sending adrenaline down your spine. His arms wrap firmly around you, drawing you closer and wanting to jump into your bones, because no matter how close he gets, it isn't enough.As he spills into you, he pants heavily, his body quivering beneath you as you feel his dick go limp inside of you.

"Fuck," you giggle softly as the high subsides and you find the strength to pry yourself off of him, tucking a strand of one of his curls behind his ear and leaving a soft kiss on his cheek. Smiling down at him, your thumb running across his bottom lip that has gotten swollen from the forceful kisses, feeling his dick slip out of you, it's swiftly replaced with his finger gasping out from the sensitivity as you realise he's smirking up at you. "Don't wanna waste a drop, love," he winks at you, slipping back your panties on and fixing your skirt and adjusting himself as you climb back into the passenger seat."Right, love, let me drive you home," he says tenderly, turning to face you and kissing you one final time before he begins driving. "I'm never smoking with you again," you declare choking back laughter as you pull down the window to get some fresh air. "That's what they all say sweetheart" He nudges you playfully as he drives through the streets car lights flashing past yous.

If anyone of yous steal my idea its on sight x

#matty healy smut #matty healy #smut #healy #matty #the1975 #matty healy x reader #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 fanfiction #matty fic #the 1975 smut #matty healy imagine

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