#evil orange rump

[wyrmfedgrave]

Pics: Evil Orange Rump at his 'best'...

1 & 2. The ex-prez continues to rail against constitutional law.

Rump's still set on becoming a corrupt President-for-Life, by the worst ways possible.

Keep an eye on everyone that he planted - err - 'appointed' while he was in office.

These For Reich Republikkkans are there to help him steal another 4 year term...

Yet, even during his many trials he's being treated with kid gloves!

When he 'couldn't' pay his 1st trial's reward, his assets (the dough he's got for the election & his NY buildings) should have been seized & sold!!

Instead, his bond payments were lowered...

Worse, his continued breaking of the judge's gag order, should have seen him in prison!

Yet, once again, his only punishment is to be continually "warned."

How long is this kind of treatment supposed to last?

Does anybody still remember how many people were victims of this con man?

Quite a lot of voters & others are being denied their due justice...

3 to 7. Everything Dumb Don & his enablers do is crooked.

Nothing they say has any legal merit.

All of their promises are of torture & pain - not of proper governance.

They literally care for no one. And , that includes the suffering of their own political cultists.

How many of his followers have been left to rot - when the Rump who would be king had no more need of them?

How many of his own Republikkkans have turned tail against Lord Rump?

And, are now testifying against King Dump?

Wake up, voters!!

You've long been fooled.

Dump the Rump...

Vote Blue & be True - to your Nation.

[mythicalninjas]

I can ask the reaction of the four turtles when their girlfriend tells them; "I'm going to kiss every inch of your shell!❤ I might take a week....💕"? (Fluff pls)

Of course! ❤ Sorry for the long wait. Mikey's part is not as long as the others but I hope you enjoy. I apologize if there are grammar mistakes.

Rate: SFW, fluff

You had arrived by surprise and gives your boyfriend a fright. Well, at least you tried to

"I'm going to kiss every inch of your shell!''

The orange clad mutant turtle stops kneading the pizza dough on the counter in the kitchen area, Rump Shaker playing in the background.

You were frustrated because he didn't move a muscle. He just slowly turned his face toward you.

You stared at each other

Suddenly a big slime lit up his face, then he turns his shell on you

You smiled back

The kitchen was filled with his giggles while you give lots of kisses all over his hard shell

''Ya like that?'' You asked, grinning

His strong muscles relaxed, a calm 'hmm' left his mouth

''Kitchen time with many kisses? Is there anything better than this?''

''Pizza?''

''Nah, angelcakes.'' He turns his head at you ''Ya better then pi- HMMMM''

You kept on for a looong time

The lair was calm, cozy this night. A perfect place to meditate

Wait...

Meditate?

Rubbing one hand against the other like a cartoon villain who has just masterminded an evil plan, you headed toward Dojo to give your boyfriend a surprise

There he is… In peace with the material and spiritual world, whatever that may be. He sits with his spine straight, his legs crossed and his hands on his knees. Index fingers touching thumbs

You walk on tiptoe till to get behind him

He didn't react yet, remaining montionless in his deep concentration to inner peace

You attacked

''Oh!'' The leader expressed as soon as he has the feeling of your lips on his shell. ''What are you doing?''

''Giving you a sign that I'm here. And giving you some of my playful love. I'm going to kiss every inch of your shell!''

He winked. ''Please, I'd love that.''

''Ya know...'' You continued. ''I am surprised. You didn't notice me when I came in.''

''Actually I did.'' He turned toward you. ''But I wanted to know what you were up to. Soo...'' Leo turned his shell back at you. '' Shall you continue?''

You could see him relax under your soft touch of your lips

He definitely loves this kind of attention while enjoying inner peace

The inner peace you gave him

Sitting in a chair in front of one of the motinors which formed a half-moon in the corner next to the toboggan run, you watch your nerd boyfriend working on yet another of thousants of projects

You have to admit that his creations are more advanced than many state-of-the-art technologies, even NASA's. He could build a portal to another planet whenever he wants

His shell was full facing you, the big technology backpack covering 85% of it.

Damn. That disrupts your brillant plan. But...

There is a 15% of chance to plant many kisses over the exposed parts

''Donnie?'' You called softly

''Yes, dove?'' He replies without turning his attention away his new criation

You didn't answered

''Honey-''

His turn to call you was cut short on the spot

''HAHAHAWAITTURTLESHAVESENSITIVESHELLS'' He protested as your lips enjoy every single of his carapace. ''PLEASEHAHAHA''

''Chill out''. You smiled playfully. ''Too bad that this backpack gets in the way''

He looks at you. ''Well, would you like me to take it off?''

You only noded and returned to your important duty

Gosh, his smile says everything

''Honey, why are you staring at me like that?''

''You know why, big boi.'' You shared a smile, face resting on both hands and elbows on the head of the chair. The same chair you have been sit to watch your red boyfriend working out

Raph smirked

God, you still in so much love with this big guy

He may be tough with his brothers, even Casey, but he's a big teddy bear with you. A lovely one

Oh

Wait

''Um, honey?'' You got up

He dropped the weights on the stand and sat down. ''Yeah?''

You stayed behind him

''What ya doin'?''

Inhaling, you made a sad face

He is understanding nothing

''I'm going to kiss every inch of your shell!''

Poor boy

''Wai', wai', wait!''

You stop and stare at him

He stares at you back

Pregnant silence

''Permission to kiss every inch of your shell.''

''Permission denied.''

He couldn't hide a smile

You didn't stop

He may not show it, but this teddy bear LOVES when you give him SO MUCH ATTENTION

Give him attention

[obscureoldguy]

“But in the way a Typhoid Mary can spread a disease but is immune to it, so is Trump immune to shame. He has, though, infected the Republican Party. It has to know that Trump is exploiting the horror of 9/11 to rally the faithful for his reelection effort, but it says nothing. The party has become a kind of horror film, Republican after Republican arising from a swamp — the living dead, marching toward political survival, lacking only a soul.”

An excellent (in my opinion) political analysis by Washington Post Columnist Richard Cohen,

[how-masterful]

31 Fics of Fright

Day 19- Carving Comforts

Simm!Master X Reader

Prompt: Jack o’Lantern

Notes: I tried not to infodump on the history of pumpkins in this one- luckily Simm isn’t about that type of thing! Plus, I can never resist an Elvira reference. I also can’t believe we’re almost at 20 days of these fics!

Warnings: None

Pumpkin guts splattered into the large metal mixing bowl on the counter. You tapped the oversized dessert spoon on the rim of the bowl, the last orange tendrils and hard seeds rocketing off of its curved surface. Placing the spoon back down within your laid out arsenal and reclaiming the kitchen knife from its place upon the towel, you returned to disembowel your pumpkin.

Across the table the Master was grinning to himself, eagerly swiping at the insides of his huge pumpkin with a blade. You supposed he’d be the type to enjoy the carnage of such a task. Mostly, however, you were just glad he’d agreed to join you.

Candles sat lit on the various surfaces, the roaring flame of the fire flickering wildly in the hearth. The vinyl hummed an old tune, its warm crackles filling the air with that indescribable feeling of everything just being right. How you adored these moments, the Master indulging in the smallest of gestures that made your love for the Timelord swell exponentially. He’d at first been apprehensive, rolling his eyes as you dragged him out of the TARDIS to trapse around some stupid farm, walking up and down rows of various garishly orange vegetables, with the intention of massacring them from the inside out and carving a face into their rump. 

That was, until you’d explained it to him exactly like that- a violent ritual to enjoy with his love. It also helped when you’d made a joke about being like Elvira, having two big pumpkins, and he’d immediately stared at your chest- rather than the gargantuan orange beasts at your feet. He could be awfully crass when he wanted to. Sometimes he truly was a caricature of villainy, and others he’d decimate entire planets without a care. You were still working remarkably hard to figure out exactly where he drew that line in the sand.

The Master tapped his pumpkin guts into the equally as large bowl by his side, looking down at his pumpkin with pursed lips. You watched him, smiling as he rotated the round vegetable and inspected its lumps and bumps, trying to find the most even side to focus on. It was comforting to see him so out of his own head. Perhaps he felt the same.

“Do you know where the whole pumpkin thing came from?”

You asked, scraping down at the edge of your pumpkin.

The Master looked up, returning to carve at the interior.

“It’s Irish, isn’t it? Your human version is, anyway.”

“There are alien pumpkins?” You asked, placing down your knife upon the towel. The Master nodded, scraping his knife across the orange flesh.

“Well, pumpkinish. The Hervoken, centuries old, had big skinny bodies and these fat heads. Sort of looked like a pumpkin, you could say. Had the whole science that looks like magic thing down perfectly.”

This was something you adored- when the Master decided to tell you stories. You often wondered what incredible things the Master had seen in his lifetimes. He seemed to have a never ending barrel of stories to tell.

“Evil bastards, really. Totally beats the human version, old Jack and his magical Satan turnip.”

Dissolving into giggles, you scooped another lump of pumpkin guts into your bowl.

“Don't forget the guiding of the spirits and banishing of evil.”

The Master looked down at the pumpkin, raising his eyebrows expectantly. After a while he looked back towards you, wearing a typical smug look.

“Well, I’m still here.”

“No silly, you first have to carve the face, then place the light inside, then it acts like a ward-”

“Will you just butcher that pumpkin? You and your abracadabra, I swear.”

At that, you returned back to your pumpkin- smiling down as you emptied the last of the guts from its interior, hearing the Master’s muttered grumblings as he finished up his job. You’d picked three pumpkins that day, two to carve and one to make a pie out of. You’d yet to actually make one, only seeing endless recipes for gorgeous looking pies online, but you thought you’d give it a go. Besides, you had possibly the only kitchen that would simply refuse to set itself on fire.

It soon became time to carve the face, and you’d planned your idea out perfectly. You’d taken inspiration from a creature you’d encountered not long ago- a hideous beast with prominent bottom fangs, a mangled nose with four nostrils, one eye that bulged out of its head and another that sunk deep into a small pinprick like bead. Its skin flapped and wrinkled like a soggy piece of clothing, its glower enough to send a chill down anybody's spine. You would have pitied it, had it not tried to dismember you. Turning it into a pumpkin would be the least awful thing you could retort with. You worked skilfully with the knife- cutting each intricate line that you’d drawn out with a pen. At one point you’d dug too wide, but had covered it with another layer of skin wrinkle. The creature deserved no pumpkin mercy, you thought.

You’d both carved in silence, the occasional banter between you, but the main air had been one of focus- it was interesting to see the Master work so carefully, so invested in what he was trying to do. Not even a glimpse he’d spare you, leaving you completely in the dark about what he was carving. Not until he was finally done.

With a sigh of completion, you presented your pumpkin to the now finished Master, who tilted his head and nodded approvingly. He chuckled at the fine details, admiring your decision to make a mockery of a threat. You beamed, eagerly lighting the tealight inside to observe the lit design. It was a thing of beauty, its ugliness amplified tenfold by the candles glow.

The Master had already lit the candle inside of his, slowly rotating the pumpkin around to proudly display the face.

You gasped, leaning in closer to admire his design. It was a horrifying skull, its eyes protruding and wide, its teeth bared and growling. He’d carved notches and scruff of peeling flesh into the rind of the pumpkin, a large hood shadowing the skeletons face. You had to hand it to him- it really was terrifying.

“Wow, Master that’s incredible. How did you come up with something so terrifying?”

The Masters face fell, eyes burning with a serious glare.

“It’s a self-portrait from my youth.” He said dryly, tone flat and furious. 

You stared at the pumpkin with thin lips, before returning to the Master’s judgemental eyes. You watched him, ready for whatever chaos was about to unfold, until you saw the smallest quirk of his mouth corner. At that you fell into laughter, the Timelord chuckling as you gasped for breath. 

The pumpkins took pride of place as they flanked the fireplace later that night. The monster and the Master both guarding that same flickering flame upon the hearth, the echoes of your laughter flying deep into the dark.

[hazbinextgeneration]

A Little Cold Can Go A Long Way

Ah, Hazbin Hotel. A wondrous place of new hope and peace within hell's normally chaotic place....SO you would think that today would be unlike any other. The most chaotic thing you'd expect would just be a fight between guests and staff right?...Well tell that to the mysterious things that kept happening around the hotel. It all started when all the shot glasses exploded. Sending glass onto the floor. Luckily noone was hurt but there was a giant mess. Everyone blamed it on Husk being drunk at the time and his magic going out of control but he insisted it never happened before. Yeah nobody believed him, that was until the kitchen's refridgerator actually came to life and tried to eat Nifty alive. Ok. Husk's magic was powerful but no where near the levels of bringing an icebox alive. It took tipping it and unplugging it from the wall to get it to stop. And that wasn't the end unfortunately. Vaggie broke out in orange polka dots, to which Angel laughed at. A vase flew across the room and smashed into the next wall. A crystal chandelier fell and almost hit Charlie over the head. The stairs became slippery. The basement flooded. Things kept breaking or flying around or coming to life and scaring everyone and no one knew what was happening or how to stop it. ..But everyone got a pretty good idea who it might've been when Angel screamed when he caught one of the bandits ripping through his new expensive dresses and crushing his make up kits into tiny pieces. ...Of course. OF FREAKIN COURSE IT WAS ALASTOR!! Why wouldn't it be him?! Why didn't they make the connection sooner when the radios went haywire? Electronics running wild, powerful magic, crazy shadow....things!? It had his name written all over the darn thing! Why? He didn't care. NO ONE messed with his sh*t and got away with it. Of course Charlie wouldn't be much help. All she did when everyone complained was poke her head in there once before slamming the door closed and giving a nervous grin.  "Uh...H-He's not feeling too good. I-It'd be best if no one disturbed him. Hehe." Of course she'd say something like that. But the VERY last straw was his hair being yanked by a laughing shadow to which he may or may not have tried to shoot dead and instead left a bunch of bullet holes in the walls. Ok. He was tired of this! Mess with him once: shame on him for not realizing it was AL sooner. Mess with him twice: Shame on the actual guy who did it. But pull on his hair?! OH! He was freakin asking for an a$$whopping!! He didn't care if this was one of the most powerful beings on the nine circles of hell! No one messed with his stuff like it was yesterday's trash. Which is why the angry fluff spider marched up to the a-hole's room with enough fury to crack a diamond, and pounded his hand against the wooden thing. The noises echoed down the dark hallway and did a round about to death ears. "AL! YOU CREEPY STRAWBERRY PIMP LOOKIN' MOTHERF**KER!!!" The spider's angry voice echoed down the hall spooking off anyone who wasn't already scared of disturbing the feared Radio Demon. "YA BETTA GET CONTROL OF THIS PROBLEM BEFORE I SHOVE A BAZOOKA UP YOUR-" The door suddenly and slowly swung open by itself making the spider pause mid yell and stare at the thing, catching him off guard. Well...that was weird. He wasn't expecting that. The dark greeted him and absolute silence behind it....After a few awkward seconds he backed away slightly. He maybe have been regretting his descicion slightly. A long pause followed and a small noise finally came out...It sounded like. "*CHEEEEO*!" "What the fu- F**K!!" A gust of wind and a shadow rushing at him was enough to knock the spider onto his rump and a shadow thing coming at him was the spooky cherry on top. He landed on the ground with a thump and watched as the creature smiled at him before zooming down the hall to presumably to cause more trouble. The experience left him dazed and staring down the hall for a bit before another noise made him look back to the doorway. "*cough, cough*......Oh dear." "Al? Oh, f**kin'-" He groaned when he got up and dusted himself off. Straightening himself out and giving an annoyed look inside. "Al you creepy old goat. You in there?" Two red eyes and a yellow fanged smile shown from the dark back to him and another cough sound came from him. "Oh my. Don't you know it's rude to barge into another man's room?....*cough*" "Rude?! HA! Do ya even know what your stupid shadow looking mother**kers have been doin around here?!" His arms crossed except one which he pointed at him. "You're d*m goon messed up some sh*t of mine." He growled. "I don't like my stuff destoyed ya hear?" His head tilted slightly still keeping that stupid grin of his and he chuckled. "Is that so?" He found it amusing the spider was angered so eagerly. He always found things like loss of self control so fascinating. And the way he was looking at him was so amusing. "Well. Quite frankly speaking. It's a little bit beyond my control dear boy. There's a slight static within the radio waves." The spider demon stared confused at him. "....The f**k izzat supposed ta mean?! If I gotta knock 'em back into place then so-" "Achzzzzzzzzzt*!" He was stopped in his tracks by a weird AF noise. The radio demon on the other hand was snapped forward and his eyes became dials of all things, as soon as it came his left. With a shake of his head, his eyes were returned to their normal red form and he resumed looking at the dumbfounded looking spider. "I do beg your pardon." "...What the f**k was that sh*t?" He threw his hands out towards him. The thing had sounded like the f**cker had tried to sneeze or something and all that came out was static. "Are you sick or somethin'?" A clapping sound effect seemingly came from no where as Alastor ever the show off gave a few clap alongs as well...from a bed from what he could tell from in the dark. "What a discovery! What will the amaizing cakeeater do next?" Angel decided to ignore that comment and instead just walked in carefully mind you. He didn't know what else this crazy cook might do, cocking his head to the side, he gave the deer demon a curious look over with his eyes. "...Is everything around here going haywire because you're f**kin' sick?" "It would seem like that definately." Angel sighed and reached one of his hands up to rub at his face. Great. Of course something like this would have to happen today and on the same day his stuff was destroyed too. Without another word, the spider demon turned on his heel and left the room leaving the door wide open. Alastor watched curiously but eventually went back to lying down, giving a few more coughs. He was left alone peacefully for a few hours, during that time letting out a few more unintentional magical outbursts he was sure caused some problems somewhere, before the sounds of approuching footsteps caught his attention and he turned his head to a most curious sight indeed. Angel was back, but he had brought a few things with him. In his many limbs were a tray of food and silverware, what looked like an extra blanket, and a small bag. ..Drugs perhaps? A frown on his face. "...I see you've been downgraded to roomservice." "Oh, shut up." He came walking in and went over to the bed. The first thing he did when close enough was put the small baggy on the nightstand and forcably push him back onto the bed which caught him slightly off guard. ...Out of all the demons he's met, Angel was one of the few who didn't seem to be scared of him. Cautious surely but not entirely scared. The covers were pulled back over him and the extra blanket was thrown on top of the ones he had. Alastor blinked and tilted his head when Angel forced the tray into his lap. "There! I dunno sh*t about this... jumpy-belina stuff you like, but you need something hot in you or else your body is gonna get worse. And dammit I ain't havin' any more of this sh*t. Now eat." He blinked and looked down the food. He was pretty sure Angel was talking about not knowing how to make 'jambalaya', but what he got instead was a plate full of spegetti and what spelt like tea with it. He tilted his eyes back up to the demon with brows raised in question.  "...What? It's like the one thing Im good at cookin'. Don't judge me."  "Oh, Angel. I didn't know you cared.~" For once the spider groaned at his tone, before throwing the small baggy from the small table which landed on his chest. "Just eat the stuff, and take the stupid cough drops I got ya." Before turning and walking out the door he gave the deer one last frown and pointed at him. "You owe me big time for putting up with this bullsh*t." "Oh...I think you'll get someone from me soon. Don't fret dear boy." ******************************************************************** "ACHOO!! F**KIN' H8LL!!!" The spider was curled up on the bed, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket and holding it over his head much like a hoody. Poor Charlie had brought him up some food and water but it didn't stop the spider's sour mood and shivering. Alastor on the other hand was amused at this all this. Oh he got something from him all right. He got the idiot's stupid cold!  "Why Angel. You don't look too well? But not too worry." He gave an evil smile. "You'll be compensated fully with me here to take care of you." Angel groaned and face planted into the mattress away from him. 

A Radiodust fic I wrote for my pal @star-the-werewolf All characters belong to Vivziepop

[feelingbluepolitics]

"A judge in Upstate New York was forced off the bench after posting online the image of a noose and a [t]rump campaign slogan, which a state commission concluded showed political or racial bias, officials said Tuesday.

"Kyle R. Canning, a part-time judge in Altona, N.Y., near the Canadian border, posted an image to his Facebook account of a noose, with the words: 'IF WE WANT TO MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN WE WILL HAVE TO MAKE EVIL PEOPLE FEAR PUNISHMENT AGAIN.'

"The New York State Commission on Judicial Conduct said that Canning, 29,

failed 'to maintain high standards of conduct so that the integrity and independence of the judiciary would be preserved,' that he failed to avoid impropriety and the appearance of impropriety, and that he 'failed to respect and comply with the law and failed to act in a manner that promotes public confidence in the integrity and impartiality of the judiciary.'

"The noose, the commission said, conveyed racial and/or political bias.

"'The noose is an incendiary image with repugnant racial connotations,' Commission Administrator Robert H. Tembeckjian said. 'It is the very antithesis of law and justice. For a judge to use the image of the noose in making a political point undermines the integrity of the judiciary and public confidence in the courts.'

"Canning posted the message online in early 2018; someone complained to the commission in August of that year, and the commission lodged a formal complaint against him in May of this year."

***

Granted, this one is a nasty little minnow. Or maybe, a small predatory orange spotted grouper, swimming in a shallow, brackish estuary. The point is, he flipped himself right into the frying pan.

The people who strike McConnell and trump and their judicial umbra suppliers as suitable federal judge material are higher up, in the federal judiciary, or what they might see as the bigger food chain.

But the further point is, they too can fall hook and sinker, because those lines above apply to them, too.

[radroller]

You're a good listener and I need to rant because I know if I post this to the public I will be ripped. A third option on the ballot will be what the Pain in The Rump will need to win again, since the Democrats are now decided amongst the young and old. I am hoping for Sanders too, but at this point, this is looking like a repeat of 2016. People act as if the Majority of the US uses tumblr when only like ... 30% of youths use it. I hate Biden, but if I want the orange ass out of office ....

Well see, i guess i can’t blame some people for voting for Biden if he gets the nomination, but i sure as hell can’t blame people for being dissatisfied with picking the lesser of two evils either. The fact is that the Democratic party had a course that could take them to victory, but they’re just content with putting Biden’s abyss brain on their shoulders. If, god-forbid, the worst of outcomes does come to pass and we get another 4 years, they have nobody to blame but themselves.

[go-redgirl]

White House Expands Protections in Virus Outbreak

The White House put in place new measures Monday to protect President Donald Trump and his staff during the coronavirus outbreak, including taking the temperature of anyone who enters the complex, including visitors and members of the press corps.

The steps expanded on screenings the White House began on Saturday for anyone who gets close to Trump and Vice President Mike Pence, who is leading the administration's response to the virus.

Officials greeted staff, reporters and camera workers by swiping their foreheads with a temporal thermometer. Only those with a reading of 99.6 degrees Fahrenheit (37.6 degrees Celsius) or less were allowed entry into the complex.

“In order to keep the entire White House complex safe and healthy, beginning Monday morning, temperature checks will be conducted on everyone who enters campus," spokesman Judd Deere said.

The average body temperature is about 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit (37 degrees Celsius), but it can range from a little lower to a little higher. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says it considers a person to have a fever when he or she has a temperature of 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit (38 degrees Celsius) or higher.

Inside the James S. Brady Press Briefing Room, an orange sign taped to the back of many seats let reporters know that it was to remain unoccupied during briefings to ensure social distancing. The White House Correspondents’ Association called on all members to stay home or work remotely if they could do so and to keep a bare level of staffing at the White House.

“We understand these restrictions are deeply disruptive to our members and their ability to do their jobs. But we are forced to take these steps to do our part to ensure that there is a healthy pool available to cover the president and inform the public during this critical time,” the association’s board said in an overnight email to members.

The White House on Saturday began taking the temperature of reporters attending a coronavirus briefing led by Trump and Pence. One reporter with a temperature above 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit was denied entry to the briefing room. Temperature checks were conducted before Sunday's briefing, too.

Trump has had contact with people who later tested positive for the coronavirus, including the press aide for Brazil's president, but Trump initially refused to be tested.

On Saturday, Trump said he had taken the test in response to questions at a Friday news conference. The White House doctor reported late Saturday that the test came back negative. Trump, 73, would be considered at risk because of his age.

The White House also has encouraged staffers to follow guidelines for telework issued by the Office of Management and Budget.

To limit the number of journalists in the briefing room, television networks agreed to pool camera coverage so that just one crew would cover the briefings and share footage with all the other networks, instead of having multiple crews covering the same event.

That system was in place for Sunday's coronavirus briefing.

“This is an important first step for us, but we all agree more action is needed to protect our members and the integrity of the press pool covering the president,” the White House Correspondents' Association board said.

__________________________________________________________

OPINION:  So, now that takes care of those that was ‘wishing’ that the test would com back ‘positive.

Remember, Almighty God is in charge as we go through this unfortunate evil virus attach on human life in our country. 

Keep the faith, because our country will get through this unfortunate situation and arise ‘VICTORIOUSLY’ to combat the ‘coronavirus’.

[ladypeck]

Don’t be surprised when T-rump’s re-elected. Bigots love him. Not just white suprematists either. People who hold onto bigotry LOVE him.

Hate blacks? He was forced to rent to blacks in New York, good people carrying torches KKK style in Charlottesville. Love T-rump. There’s a reason why he’s LOVED by every white nationalist/supremacist group in this country and if you’re a person of color, especially black, and you deny his naked racism because he says (his lifestyle doesn’t reflect it) he’s Christian, then you’re being willfully ignorant. You’re cutting your nose off to spite your own face.

Hate Hispanics? He’s your hero! They’re filthy rapists, all of them. They’re all evil and not to be trusted, right? Just like “the Blacks”. You’ll love T-rump.

Hate gays? The bible says they should be stoned and the Orange one says marriage is between a man and woman. Because he’s such a devout Christian. Let’s forget the fact he can’t correctly quote any scripture, and doesn’t ever go to church. He respects marriage so much he’s been married multiple times! Yaaaay! Let’s ignore his divorces. You’ll love T-rump.

Hate women? You’ll really love T-rump. Grab ‘em by the pussy after all. Walk unannounced into the dressing room for a bunch of teenaged girls to see them naked. Nothing immoral about that, cause let’s be honest, you secretly would LOVE to do that yourself, so you admire him for it. You wouldn’t mind if your daughter had been naked in the room at the time, right? You also want to dictate women’s bodies? Tell them they don’t get to choose how and when they’ll have children? Event you women who vote T-rump. You don’t want equal pay for equal work just like male bigots don’t.

All bigots love T-rump. Why? Because even if he hates you, he also hates the same people you hate. You think you’re morally upstanding but you see his vast knowledge of how to rip people off of their money and jump through tax loopholes as clever, brilliant, something to be admired rather something to hold in disdain... like genuinely morally upstanding people do. Ignore the fake University scam. The fact he’s ripped off multiple charities. He’s clever for doing it.

That’s why T-rump will be re-elected. Because he’s a bigot. And bigots support their own.

[imagine-loki]

Seiðmaðr

TITLE: Seiðmaðr

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 4/? AUTHOR: goldtrimmedspectacle ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki is attacked and forgets his past. Now riddled with amnesia, Loki must decide whether to follow his mind and return his memories, or to follow his heart and find true happiness. RATING: PG13. Will go up in later chapters. NOTES/WARNINGS: Blood. Violence. Can be found on AO3.

There beneath the willow tree I learned a lot about the way of things I learned that everything (the wind, the leaves) has breath inside They were pointing ever east To see the ever-turning aeon cease Their wills were ever bent on waiting with all their might - Eurus, the Oh Hellos

CHAPTER FOUR

No-name remained silent after his vomiting spell, allowing you to rinse the bile from his hands and wipe his face down with a piece of cloth. Nor did he complain when you forced him to wash out the sour taste with a canister of water. Or when you forced him to chew a piece of white willow bark to calm his stomach.

His grimace left little to the imagination about such a bitter tasting snack.

The illusion you perceived was left for another day, when further questioning wouldn’t result in No-name’s sudden nausea and spittle.

“Bjarke, have we collected everything that is needed?”

No-name scowled as you forced another piece of bark into his hand.

The redheaded man appeared from under his horse, having just latched the last bag on to Stigr’s side, and patted the horse kindly on their rump. He smiled and scratched Stigr underneath his chin before walking towards yourself and your dark companion.

“Indeed, we have.” He wiped down his hands with a handkerchief and stuffed it back into his breast pocket. “I also have tied the bag of herbs and meat to Raoul’s saddle, which we will eat tonight – and remember what you promised me, dear fauntkin.”

Bjarke winked.

“Yes, I know. Rabbit stew. I remember quite clearly, greedy bear,” you jested and were gifted with a hearty laugh from Bjarke. His eyes still remained warily upon No-name, but at least his normal mannerisms were back and with a vengeance.

“Great. I think it best we start our journey then,” Bjarke chuckled once more and strode over to Stigr. He hopped onto the horse with ease and waited for you to do so in turn.

You greeted Raoul with a kiss to his nose and rubbed the top of his ears.

No-name trailed behind and watched as the dark horse nudged your shoulder excitedly.

“No-name, come here and meet Raoul formally,” you offered a hand to your companion, “Bjarke and I thought it best that you and I share Raoul on our way to town. He is the larger of our two horses and I am far lighter than Bjarke.”

No-name snorted at your comment.

“Besides, I am sure that we will have to share him merely for a few hours. But it is best if he becomes used to you before you suddenly start to ride him.”

You grabbed Raoul’s bridle and pulled the horse towards No-name, ensuring that if Raoul had a fit then at least he would not kick your newly healing ward.

“Hello Raoul,” No-name greeted the horse softly and you watched in bewilderment as the man and horse stared at each other for a good few seconds. It was Raoul who bent his head down first, eyes never leaving the man at your side, and he nudged No-name on his good shoulder. The man, in turn, scratched the horse’s ear and laughed, running his hands over Raoul’s mane and neck.

Your bewilderment turned to surprise.

“No-name, are you sure that you are not a horse whisperer, for I have never seen Raoul open up to anyone so quickly as he has to you.”

Raoul’s ears flicked at his name and turned back to lavish you with his affection instead, which caused you to giggle as he rubbed his face almost aggressively into your torso.

“I would not know,” your companion interrupted, “but I feel that I understand horses. Their body language is quite easy to decipher and it is common knowledge that horses prefer the ease of a person over the unease. Correct?”

You nodded and released Raoul’s bridle. Said horse nuzzled you once more and did the same to No-name.

“You are undoubtedly right, and I’m glad that you are able to understand him so well,” you smiled and walked towards Raoul side. “It makes it easier for me to get you from one destination to another,” you jested and clutched Raoul’s saddle. With a slight struggle, you pulled yourself up to lie across Raoul’s saddle and swung another leg over to straddle the leather seat.

Glancing back, you found No-name watching you with a large self-satisfied smirk. There lay the problem of your annoyance and joy, as you were glad that No-name was no longer struggling with his stomach troubles or his previous anger at the question of what words were stitched into his gloves, but, you were not exactly pleased that he had watched your struggle and merely stood there smirking.

“Oh, shut up.”

The injured man laughed and walked to the other side of Raoul, patting their body as he made his way around and hooked his hand onto the saddle. The ease he portrayed in sitting on the saddle was far too annoying, especially when he was obviously injured.

Your scowl was apparently too obvious as No-name laughed once more and slid forward so that his thighs were braced against your own, whereas his torso was kept a short distance away from your own as to prevent any unnecessary jolting of the healing bones.

“Oh hush, my dear healer. You act as if this isn’t a dream of yours,” No-name purred into your ear and settled a hand onto your hip. “A handsome man cradling you whilst riding such a magnificent beast – ”

“I will push you off. Undoubtedly. In fact, I will have Raoul buck you off. All of the above if you don’t behave.”

The man laughed once more and let his arm slide to cradle your stomach, which he used as a means of balance as Raoul began to walk and follow Stigr. No-name used this to his advantage as he leaned forward and continued talking.

“Your remarks are far too entertaining, little one. At this point, I fear that my comments will be merely to get such reactions.” His laughter did little to stifle your annoyance at such a proud and flirtatious man, but his own mischievous laughter was difficult not to join in with.

“Keep talking then,” you baited, “and I will make sure that both of your arms are broken.”

No-name chuckled once more and fell silent as the trees continued to pass by your trio of travellers. The view of nature seemed to settle your companion as he relaxed and let his hand loosen upon your stomach, eyes low and reflecting the different hues of leaves that formed a tunnel along the rocky path.

You were surprised to find a series of butterflies scattered amongst the leaves and some of the flowers that layered the forest floor. Especially as butterflies weren’t particularly well known in this region of Vanaheim.

A small handful of orange and yellow butterflies passed by Raoul calmly and one landed on No-name’s hand, causing him to flinch, and it fluttered back to its friends.

Slowing down, Bjarke and yourself watched as more butterflies flocked around the yellow flowers that dotted themselves between the decaying leaves on the sheet of grass and roots.

No-name peered over your shoulder and two yellow butterflies landed on his face and hair.

Bjarke laughed.

“It appears you have Frigga’s blessing, No-name.” The redheaded man grinned and let an orange butterfly land on his finger before it flew away once more. “Butterflies were created by the Allmother to allow everyone a little piece of happiness and to protect them from evil.”

No-name waved away the two butterflies from his being and you watched as both flew to land on a nearby bush.

A green butterfly gifted you a blessing as it landed on your leg, its wings spread wide and displaying the cat’s eye that had been painted on its wings at birth. It soon grew bored and left, leaving you and your companions to continue on your journey.

The rest of the voyage was mildly interesting with the new terrain and the waterfalls that could be discovered in the south-west regions of the forest, however by nightfall your back had grown tired and sore. You could feel No-name’s agitation and how certain bumps on the path caused him discomfort, as displayed through his cursing and uncomfortable shifting that knocked you forward ever-so-often. Therefore, you were glad when your trio arrived at the designated camp that Bjarke had marked on his map.

Raoul and Stigr allowed for you, No-name and Bjarke to disembark in the small alcove amongst the leaves and willow trees. The rushing water from a nearby river greeted your ears, along with the birds that had built themselves comfortable nests in the willow trees. It was beautiful and as you stood surrounded by the streams of sunlight and glowing bugs that resided in the south of Vanaheim, you questioned your beliefs on the legends of fae and nymphs of nature.

The shifting of hooves removed your attention from the willow leaves and churning water and allowed you to unload Raoul – ridding him of the heavy load that he carried on his back and flanks. The several mats on his side caused your knees to buckle slightly, having undone the belt keeping them in place and catching all four woven mats at once, and you tried to juggle all four whilst maintaining your own balance.

“As much as enjoy watching you falter by your own hand, this is almost embarrassing,” No-name tutted and grabbed the toppling mat from your hands. You kicked at his right heel, which he countered by side-stepping and lifting the mat onto his right shoulder with an exaggerated eye-roll.

“Unnecessary.” You grabbed the mat from his arm and pulled it back onto the three other mats juggled in your arms.

“Stubborn.”

You raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“Determined.”

No-name copied your smile.

“Foolish.”

You picked up a large cloth and tossed it at his face, laughing when the man spluttered and growled at your audacity. The manner in how he tore the fabric from his face only made you laugh louder as his eyes narrowed and teeth bared like a cat.

No-name seemed to find the humour in such action when he hurled the fabric back in your face.

The action ensued retaliation as you and the mischievous man tossed the fabric back and forth like children until you gave up, accepting that No-name had more perseverance than yourself. Evidently, after his obvious win, No-name assisted you with a few of the lighter bags, all out of the chivalry of his heart, you were sure, but stopped when you shooed him off in fear of his wounds. From thenceforth, he found himself a comfortable seat under the larger of weeping willows and proceeded to contribute by using his voice in second-hand assistance.

Revenge may be best served cold, but it was best presented on the honeyed tongue of a spiteful barmaid.

After his third remark, you tossed a nearby rock at his boot and forced him to form a fire pit away from the low-hanging branches. He seemed to frown at you when you threw a second stone at his leg, which Bjarke glared at you for, and stood to gather the nearby materials around your campsite.

It was another few minutes when all the materials had been unloaded and Bjarke began setting up the sleeping arrangement for the night, which consisted of three mats lined with thick blankets and bundled cloths in the rough shape of pillows.

He smiled when you patted his back in passing and found his hand to squeeze in a familiar gesture.

“All well, fauntkin?”

You nodded and smiled.

“All well, Bjarke.”

You continued on and joined No-name at the firepit with the sack of meat and the separate pouch of herbs. Settling on the ground next to the cursing man, you helped with scraping the wet bark off a few pieces of kindling and threw them into the base of the pit. No-name paused in his cursing and watched your technique, scanning the dagger in your hand with an odd fascination, which passed as quickly as it arrived. He continued with his chores silently.

You were quickly entranced by the procedure of cooking and pouring the meat into the frothing brew above the fire. No-name seemed fascinated by the process, which you found unusual as most men knew the basis of a simple stew, but took no further notice than asking for his assistance in the sprinkling of herbs and spices.

His eyebrows drew together and green eyes stared blankly at the leaves within the herbal pouch.

“Are you sure these are supposed to add nutrients to a meal?” He handed the pouch over. “Surely leaves can do little in giving us energy after a long ride, such as todays.”

“Well, they are not really used as a nutrimental factor of a stew,” you glanced at the confused man with a frown. “Herbs are used to give most foods more flavour, as are spices. I am not sure whether a handful of herbs would be extremely appetising by themselves, however,” you smiled with a wavering laugh.

No-name regarded you a moment longer and nodded.

“Did you really -?” - the man glanced up - “Did you really not know that herbs are used as flavour?”

He stared at you, eyes almost glazed over completely, but then a smirk coated his features and he took a pinch of the mixed herbs – flicking it into your face.

“Of course, I did. I am not a complete imbecile,” he gloated and flicked another pinch of herbs at your face. “However, I appreciate your means in educating me.”

You tore the pouch away from him and No-name laughed once more.

You finished the meal shortly after and ensured that No-name was nowhere near the herbs from thenceforth, which seemed to entertain the man enough that he made it his mission to sneak the pouch of herbs from your person for the next half hour. And then flick them into your face. Twice more. Separately.

Bjarke lumbered over when you began to serve up the stew into three wooden bowls.

“Rabbit stew, as promised,” you winked and gifted the larger man a hefty portion of the meal. He grinned when you produced a roll of bread from the last tavern you had visited.

“A delight as always.” He ruffled your hair and sat down near the fire – the flames flickering off his beard as a source of reflection and forming a fiery explosion across his beard and hair.

No-name stuffed his face as soon as the bowl reached his palms and tore into the bread like a savage, and you tried not to stare at his change from elegance and grace to a growling, starved animal. He was through his first bowl before you had even had the chance to sit down and finish your piece of bread. Much to your chagrin, you gifted him with two more bowls before Bjarke and yourself had finished your first serving. And Bjarke took one more when No-name took his last.

You shoved another canister of water in his direction once he finished, and looked away as he gulped the water down in an almost aggressive manner.

The stew and water had seemingly done the job in ridding the man of his energy, and No-name sat calmly whilst watching the fire as you and Bjarke cleaned the bowls. His eyes had grown drowsy but there still remained a glimmer of self-awareness and caution that came with travelling through thick forestry.

It was verging on uncomfortably silent when No-name interrupted.

“One more ride and we will be back in Sandnæs.”

You stopped cleaning.

“Yes, a few more hours on horseback and we will be in Sandnæs. How do you know this?”

The man in question withdrew his gaze from the flames and stared at you, unseeing and vacant like the first time he awoke in your presence. The green was dull and came across as dusty, crusted over by time, but it was all removed like a layer of wax or bronzer had graced his pupils. His eyes fluttered and No-name cringed for a moment, hand held to his head as a flicker of pain traced his cheeks but then faded.

“I –,“ he liked his lips. “I recognise the journey we are taking. It is to Sandnæs. The town known for its metal works in Vanaheim, right?”

Bjarke collected the bowls and sat across from No-name.

“You have no recollection of your life.”

No-name nodded cautiously.

“But you remember this route?”

No-name’s resolve hardened and his posture stiffened at the beginning of Bjarke’s accusation.

“I’ll have you know – “

“This shows that your lapse in memory is only temporary, I am sure. Or at least, I am as sure as a travelling goldsmith could be.” Bjarke grinned and you nudged his arm, noticing the snide pride layered upon his lips.

“I am quite sure you will remember your past soon, no worries.”

No-name’s posture relaxed mildly and nodded stiffly.

“Thank you.”

Bjarke rose and patted the man’s shoulder in a sense of comradery, despite how No-name stiffened at the larger man’s hand on his person.

“Well, I am off to bed. Please keep the noise down, dear fauntkin,” he teased and pressed a kiss to your crown, “You are very loud when excited and I can not sleep a wink with you tittering in the background.” He ruffled your hair despite your complaints and smiled once more at No-name.

“And I wish you a good night also, No-name. Sleep well.”

“As you.”

Bjarke left with another wave and left you and No-name by the campfire as it slowly began to die. No-name had apparently become very comfortable where he sat, arm bandaged tightly to his chest and now fully-clothed and well-fed. Bjarke’s snores soon accompanied the sound of small insects and curious nocturnal creatures as his eyes drooped, allowing a sense of calm to wash over your person as your eyes echoed his own.

“My gloves.”

Your eyes opened once more.

“What about them?”

No-name rubbed his thumb over the ridges of his fingers.

“You asked about the message inside of them.”

Your sense of curiosity had awakened, but your mind still slumbered on.

With a hum, you shifted.

“Yes, but you did not like me asking.”

No-name shifted, mirroring your position like a cat, hoping to convey their trust towards another.

“Would you like to know?”

You frowned.

“But you did not tell me before.”

No-name seemed to stop and rethink his words as he rubbed his fingers together.

“Yes, but now I am tired and visibly more open for emotional discussion.” He smiled lightly. “I blame your stew.”

You laughed and nodded, yawning.

“Yes, please. I could not understand the language stitched into the cuff, but it was very fine thread and golden. So, it must mean someone of importance, or at least someone who regarded you with a level of importance, embroidered that message into your gloves as a means to convey their affection for you.”

No-name smiled softly; the sides forced down to form a weepy grin.

“Yes. It appears so.” He smiled at the floor. “The message is actually a message of departing. Left by my mother.”

“Oh,” your tongue felt heavy with sleep. “Does it have any hints to your life prior to our encounter?”

“No, sadly not.” No-name frowned and tucked his knees up, watching the fire a little longer. The silence grew as he watched the flames with eyes laden heavy with exhaustion and worry.

“Would you – Would you like to read the message to me?”

No-name lifted his head and hesitated, mouth open and forced into a defensive frown. The frown changed to a scowl then a line – borderline neutral.

“Yes. I would appreciate it.”

You nodded and watched as he withdrew the gloves from his pocket, flipping the cuff of his right-hand open. There was a glimmer of vulnerability as he began to read the message and even without his memories, you were sure that No-name felt deeply for his mother and her compassion.

“For my darling son,” his voice caught, “shall you be safe even in the most dire of consequences, and may your silver tongue never turn to lead when in danger. Whilst your soul may carry a catacomb of doubts and fears, know that my love and admiration forever remains in the light you bring, my dear neolate. I love you and wish for your return to be soon. Your dearest mother.”

The man lay his gloves back down and watched the fire a moment longer.

He spoke no more words.

“Neolate?”

No-name looked at you with a frown.

“Like a baby snake. The word neolate means baby snake.” You smiled warmly. “Your mother sees you as her hatchling. Neolate.”

A small smile grew on No-name’s face.

“So she does.”

“It’s endearing.”

The man chuckled.

“I suppose so.”

Your brain flashed back to the image of No-name with viper-like eyes. Ready to pounce and kill. Staring at you with no feeling – like you were just another piece of meat for its next meal. Angry and full of prowess.

The image vanished and was replaced by No-name smiling once more.

“Well then, what about Ormr?”

“Ormr?” The man looked at you, confusion etched in his brow.

“Yes. Ormr for snake,” you explained. “A name away from home. A nod to your life before your passing amnesia, which I am sure will clear up soon.”

The smile upon No-name’s face seemed to freeze and his eyes grew icy.

It passed once more.

“I – ” he coughed into his hand and nodded. “Yes, I quite like Ormr. I would much prefer it over the title ‘No-name’, rest assured.”

The easy-going smirk plastered on the man’s features did little to remove the passing glance of inner turmoil inside his being.

“Alright then, Ormr,” you rose and held out a hand. “I believe we should rest before we travel into town tomorrow. Best to look somewhat presentable amongst other folk rather than just the horses.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I believe the horses are the best company I could ask for.”

You grinned and pulled Ormr from the floor.

“They will be your only company if you don’t go to sleep and allow our trio to arrive back in civilisation tomorrow.”

Ormr’s laugh echoed through the willow trees and you heard a mutter of complaint come from Bjarke’s direction.

“Shush, you oaf.”

He only laughed harder.

__

Ormr - translation for snake, pronounced: Or-mour

[inconstantsearchofperfection]

A letter

For everyone who voted for donald t rump in the last presidential election, especially those that used the excuse that they were voting for the lesser of two evils.

Let me begin right off of the bat by saying :

Congrats, you have not only fucked yourself but me as well.

Now, let me address the different versions that I have heard why they considered donnie ( the lesser ) the lesser of those 2 evils.

No.1 they didn't like her voice.

So. You thought listening to don and the way he talks was better. Really.

You find his dull, sorta Bronx like - ish accent usage more soothing to your ears than an older more polished grandmother's. Mmmm

Interesting.

Well I don't.

I find his pedantic , near lobotomised orangutan impression fucking annoying as fuck.

Well then , her pants suits were annoying.

All those colors.

Yeah, his one or two fat covering dull styleless suits, with that long red licorice dogpenis tie are real exciting. I Love seeing him in what looks like the same fucking red tie every day.

This guy is supposed to be rich and he dresses like a cheap hooker every day.

Style and him have never once met.

Well , he talks better than her.

He talks on a fifth grade level.

He uses one syllable words most of the time and brings out the multisyllable words to describe things ... usually in the format of this: this thing I don't like is bad ...this thing I do like is good. Real simple shit... my four year old talks better.

Well. He s gonna clean that swamp.

It's swamped . That swamp is swampier than ever.

He'll bring American jobs back to America.

Nope.

He's costing Americans jobs.

We were doing pretty well in our recovery and he is currently taking steps to detour us and send us back into a recession or maybe head us back into a depression.

Well , he knows business , He's a business man.

He is a con artist. A huxter. A flimflam man.

A charlatan. The only person donnie makes any money for is donnie.

Well he s not hawkish like Hill.

Under the current administration in the first year they've done more drone strikes than the previous two administrations combined.

No.2

He'll put anti roe v wade judges on courts and he's pro life.

Yeah.

That is maybe the main reason some of you mf voted for him . The only reason.

You thought that this president who is crass, and dull, and at least he tells jokes better than that geeky old lady who doesn't seem to understand pop culture at all , you thought that this guy would help you get your anti abortion, anti womans' choice agenda passed.

But what you all didn't realize , what you don't seem to get is that that agenda is not " pro life " but pro pregnancy or pro birth or pro male dominant over women.

That pro life should mean life for everyone , a good life. Which should include not getting murdered, mothers being able to support themselves and their babies. Being safe on the streets. Being able to get a decent job. Being financially safe. Being physically safe. Having a chance in this country.

When you mf voted for tea rump.

When you muthafuckers voted for t rump.

When you motherfuckers voted for trump.

What In thee fuck went through your Goddamn minds.

Seriously.

You knew he was gonna be a little brat.

The man ( for lack of a better word) is 70 fucking years old. A ship doesn't just change course after 70 years. He wasn't gonna listen to the better of his angels .

Look at who and what He s surrounded by.

Incompetence and the corrupt.

You mf actually thought that djt was less evil than anyone else. Let alone a grandmother who tried to give you and everyone else healthcare. You thought that donnie was less evil than a woman who served the public good /hood for 30 plus years.

But let me get down to it.

You mean to tell me after just listening to that

Overblown, narcissistic, womanizing , pussygrabbing, cheating, painted orange, birdnest for hair , shit-for-style, lieing motherfucker for two minutes you couldn't tell who the lesser of two evils was?

You couldn't tell just by looking at him and listening to him that He was a giant piece of shit.

Seriously.

Have your eyes, ears, and head examined.

Something is fundamentally wrong with you.

Your sense of style.

Your morals, your ability to tell right from wrong.

Your i.q.

In closing , let me just offer a fond fuck you once more to everyone who voted for djt.

You haven't just fucked yourself you 've fucked everyone else as well.

You haven't just fucked yourself over.

You have also fucked over everyone else as well.

Next time ...use your fucking head.

.

[wyrmfedgrave]

The Daily Beast: Did Trump's Legal Spokesperson Violate the Terms of His Gag Order?

Nobody's surprised that Rump might get imprisoned.

He should have been thrown in there when he broke the 1st gag order!

Instead, he's been given highly preferential treatment that few others have ever gotten.

tRump freely & wilfully threatened the judge's daughter & others!

Who does that & yet, remains out of prison?!!

Rump's fallen asleep (& soiled himself) - while in court!!!

Which shows how little he respects the judge & our justice system.

Stop coddling this criminal already!!

tRump's already gotten most of his cases put on hold.

All thru help from officials who should have been officially forced to recluse themselves...

Don't let that Dumb Don con our justice system like he's conned every other victim thru out his life.

Dump the Rump - into prison already!

[loubuggins]

Courage: A Landella One-Shot

The young woman’s sobs rang across the living room, making the demon king stop in his tracks. He had just been about to turn the corner of the hallway that led to his bedroom, when he heard the unfamiliar sound of a woman’s weeping. This was not something Landon was accustomed to. Most woman who he invites to his home only let out cries of pleasure, and they certainly don’t linger around. The man, dressed in silky red pajamas with his initials engraved on the front pocket, hovered by the edge of the wall, peaking his crimson eyes into the dark room. The only light was coming from the small fire that danced in the fireplace, where the girl sat hunched with her legs pulled up to her tear-stained face. She was wearing her prime choice of sleepwear, a tank-top and shorts. The soft light of the flames highlighted her thin frame, and he could see her body shake with each sob.

His instincts told him to turn back around, and keep on walking. Feelings were the one subject the demon was not comfortable speaking of. Had it been another girl, he would have listened to his head and mind his own business. He knew what ever bothered her tonight would pass by tomorrow. He wasn’t a babysitter, or a counselor, or her father. He was just…just…just what? He was certainly not her friend. The king of demons didn’t have friends. Only work proximity associates. That’s all she is to him. At least, that’s what he told himself.

So, why did he feel this obnoxious pull to her? He suddenly became aware of his slipper-covered feet moving him closer to the destressed female, and before he could stop himself, he found his legs bringing him down on the floor beside her.

“Go away!” She shouted at him, before shoving her face further in the space between her crossed arms.

Landon didn’t quite know why he was here, but now that he was, he certainly wasn’t going to leave. Especially after being told to do so.

“I’m afraid I’m not going anywhere, Love.” He smirked at her, but was discouraged to see her head still buried in her arms.

“You know it’s rude to ignore a person who is addressing you.” He snapped, his uneasiness waning his patience. His words fell on death ears, however, because the girl’s body continued to shake as she continued to sob.

The king internally sighed, as he shifted in his spot, his legs crossed and hands in his lap. He sat there awkwardly as he stared into the orange, red, and blue lights of the fire. The sound of its crackling mixing with the sound of her uneven breathing. He was officially at a loss of what to do now. As he racked his brain for an idea, he ran into an old memory, one he hadn’t recalled for centuries.

A little girl, about the age of five, was skating across the frozen lake, the blades on the bottom of her shoes scrapping against the ice. The girl laughed in pleasure as she glided across the slick, cold surface, leaving marks in her wake.

“Come on, Papa! This is fun!” She called out to the man standing at the edge of the lake, his body wobbling as he tried to balance himself on the thin blades of his own home-made skates.

“How about Papa just watches you for afar?” The man called back, his amber brown eyes pleading with his daughter.

“No Papa! You have to try!” The little raven-haired girl giggled as she began creating figure eights on the ice.

Landon watched her with a worried expression. “Please be careful, Darling!”

Either the youngster didn’t hear her father’s warning, or she ignored it. Her movements quickly became faster and bolder. Each successful loop fueling her confidence, until she bent her knees and leaped into the air. Her tiny body spun around like a top, but her inexperienced caught up with her. As her feet contacted the ice, they slid past her and she fell back on her rear end. She let out a terrified screech as she skidded on the ice.

“Raven!” Landon bellowed as he clumsily made his way to his daughter’s side. The poor little girl was hiccupping as tears ran down her rose-colored cheeks.

“Papa!” She wailed as her father wrapped his strong, warm arms around in small frame.

“Are you okay?” He fretted as he pulled away from her embrace and began examining her for any injuries. Raven shook her head as her body shook from both the chilly air and her sobbing. Landon patted his gloves hands around her short legs, then up in her skinny waist desperately searching for the hurt area, but he saw no sign of a wound. Sure, her rump may bruise a bit later, but the rest of her seemed perfectly fine. So why was she crying?

“I think you’re okay, Darling. It was just a fall. You’ll be okay.” He told her as he ran a soothing hand through her long, black hair.

The girl shook her head once more, and jumped on her father, wrapping her short arms around his neck and burying her face into his deer-skin jacket. Instinctively, he closed the embrace, but he was still very confused.

“No need to cry, my Angel. You aren’t hurt. You can still play.” He attempted to comfort her, but to no avail.

“No, Papa. Too scary.” She wept.

So that was the problem.

“Oh Raven…you can’t give up now!” He told her as he gently pushed her off of him so he could look her in her bright brown eyes.

“But Papa…I’m scared. I don’t want to skate anymore. You were right. This is dantress.”

Landon chuckled softly at her pronunciation. “It’s dangerous, sweetheart, not dantress. And yes, you may hurt yourself at times, but you should never let that deter you, my princess.”

“What’s deter?”

“It means discourage. You know what courage is, right?”

Raven nodded her head.

“Well discourage means no courage. Do you have courage, Raven?”

Again, she nodded her head. “Yes, Papa.”

The man smiled fondly at her. “Then you must face your fears. You can’t let your fears define your life. You must never let your fears win. Do you understand me, Raven?”

“Yes, Papa, but don’t you feel discouraged too?”

“What?” The man gapped at her.

“You didn’t want to skate with me, remember? Were you not discouraged then?”

He took a moment to consider her words carefully. “I suppose you are right. I guess that means we both must conquer our fears. Come on, Darling.” Landon stood up on his skates. His body shook for a moment, but he managed to use his arms to balance himself on the blades. He took her fragile hand in his, and pushed off, slowing moving across the frozen water.

“Let’s do this together.”    

The memory faded away from the demon’s mind and his gaze moved from the fire to the young woman sitting beside him. Her sobbing seemed to have died down, but her tears still fell freely from her pale cheeks. Her long violet hair fell sloppily in her face, and her purple-green eyes held a hint of red from the salt of her tears. She sat still now, her bare legs still pressed against her chest and her chin resting on her folded arms on top of her knees. She was eyeing the burning flame as well, her face blank and unreadable.

Landon decided he’d give this comforting thing another shot.

“So…I began, but was swiftly cut off by the girl.

“Why are you here, Landon?” Her voice was weak from the crying, but it still held a great deal of hurt and pain. Landon thought he felt something ancient stir inside of him, but he shook the feeling off. Her words can’t do anything to him, he has no feelings to hurt.

“Well what kind of gentleman would I be if I ignored a damsel in distress?” He reverted to his normal teasing nature, but the frown that stayed on her face reminded him to try a new approach.

“Sorry, Darling. I guess I’m just use to facing my problems with incentive humor.”

Landon couldn’t believe his stars. He made her laugh. Sure, it was more of just a sharp exhale of air from her nose, but that counted, right?

“Listen, Arella, I’m afraid I haven’t the brightest idea what is bothering you right now, but I have been around long enough to know that whatever it is, your scared by it.”

Arella didn’t look at him, but she did give her head a small nod. “I’m scared alright. I’ve been scared my whole life. Scared of evil demons trying to kill me. Scared of my powers hurting the ones I love. Scared of my secret getting out. I’m always scared, Landon, and now that my family knows who I really am, I’m scared that…that they’ll be scared. Of me.”

He felt it again. That weird sensation in his chest. What was that? This girl, this annoying, delightful, heartrending, wonderful girl, was doing something to him that he never thought possible. She was making him give a damn.

Landon placed a comforting hand on her exposed shoulder. She stiffened at his cold touch, but she allowed his hand to stay. Looking back at the roaring flames, Landon spoke.

“I had a daughter once.” His confession surprised the sorceress, but she waited for him to continue. “I wasn’t always a demon, you see. Before this life, I was human and I had a daughter. She was my entire world.” Landon removed his hand and put it back in his lap, his dead eyes reflecting the light of the fire.

“She was the bravest person I knew. Still is. But even she would feel fear at times. I told her to never allow her fears to define her life. That she must always have courage.” Landon must not have noticed the tear that ran down his cheek, but he did feel the gentle touch of a pale hand wrap around his own. He glanced down at their interlocked hands curiously, but he made no move to pull away.

“She had courage, Arella, and so do you.” The king of Hell lifted his head and met the woman’s grateful gaze. Before he could stop her, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his prickly cheek. The kiss only lasted for a heartbeat, before she pulled away from.

“Thank you, Landon.” She said as she took back her hand and stood up off the ground. She walked towards the hallway, but stopped and turned at the edge. “Your daughter was a very lucky girl.” And with her words left to hang in the air, Arella disappeared down the hall.          

Author’s Notes: So @bearhow2​ asked for some Landella fluff, but I think this took a turn on Angst Ave. Lol I hope you still like it @bearhow2​! Maybe this can find it’s way into Every King Needs a Queen? ;)

For those who don’t know, Arella is my OC and Landon is @bearhow2​‘s OC. Arella is the youngest daughter of Beast Boy and Raven. Landon is the demon King of Hell. To read more about them, read our story, Every King Needs a Queen.

[obscureoldguy]

Concerning The Orange Rump:

There is a very strong tradition that one should respond to evil with mockery instead of fear. In the opening pages of his classic “The Screwtape Letters” CS Lewis quotes from Martin Luther, “The best way to drive out the devil, if he will not yield to texts of Scripture, is to jeer and flout him, for he cannot bear scorn.” He also quotes from Sir Thomas Moore, “The devil…that proud spirit…cannot endure to be mocked.” Sound familiar?

[ceceliaiun7878-blog]

Articles, Tagged With “Connective Tissue”.

Throughout opportunity, humans have always intended to fly. If a betta possesses one prominent and also one recessive environment-friendly gene, they will certainly be royal blue, and if the possess both recessive copies the fish will certainly be steel blue in different colors. In spite of their pretty few, it undoubtedly is actually feasible for site visitors on wildlife vacations in Galapagos to see the bird whenever of the year, particularly on the much larger islands like Fernandina and also Isabela. "I am actually presently intrigued in recording the cases of the MC1R gene variant behind reddish hair as well as freckles, especially amongst blended and also black competed people of all ages," Marshall filled in an e-mail to The Huffington Message. They are actually porphyropsin, iodopsin and cynopsin which are sensitive to 3 colours red, green, blue respectively. The rump is actually tinted mauve, pink and also blue. The colour environment-friendly, especially in illumination and also pastel colors is actually utilized to ensure resting settings. General Press Colors, Ltd Being actually a extremely essential as well as analytical photographer good friend (like most on the web photography online forum participants do), he commented that I messed up my white balance, because the skin layer shade was actually waaaaaaaaayy off. That is actually the process where a division of green-vs-red as well as yet another of yellow-vs-blue is actually established in the aesthetic unit. There was an opportunity, a long period of time ago, when everyone in the world had brown eyes. Included in GAAP leads to the latest quarter were after-tax expenditures from the amortization of intangible assets totaling up to $5 million or even $0.03 every typical reveal, little bit of modification coming from the previous quarter. Lord Krishna and Rama devoted their lifestyle securing humanity and also ruining evil, consequently they might be actually tinted blue. Several dogs, including Bluetick Coonhounds, English Setters, German Shorthaired Guidelines roan Cocker Spaniels, are each beat and also roaned and also might additionally possess patches of colour. Prevent dark, lifeless colors. Light brown is among the greatest hair colors for brown skin layer. Your eye color is probably eco-friendly, hazel, gold brownish, or red-brown. Urinate differs daily from an ashen straw-colored yellowish to a black orange under regular scenarios in flawlessly healthy and balanced individuals. Certainly why not find out more every manufacturer can create a thin and also lightweight device without additionally making it believe inexpensive or flimsy, but Apple accomplished. Consider a massive boost in performance and also electric battery life, as well as the Air is a lot more engaging.

Lots of folks puzzle all of them along with acne when their redness is obvious, but they proliferate in majorities than acne and also possess a smaller "hit" dimension. After enabling the 2nd coating of epoxy coating to completely dry for 2 to 3 days, tape a stencil to the pool-wall with mild tack painter's concealing tape.

Orange draws out the even more red elements within in. It is the colour for electrical power, although it is actually likewise considered as one of the healing colours. Here is actually a charming multicolored ocean stallion for your wall surface. This colour additionally turns up throughout a broad spectrum of hues and also tones, coming from those that are dark yet clearly violet to those along with charcoal-influenced shades.In the feeling that the skies will seem blue, the plants would certainly appear green as well as the Taj, a specific tone of white colored. It is actually strongly believed that blue reduces metabolic activity, yet concurrently it can easily additionally be actually dismaying as well as cool or pain easing and it has been figured out that individuals are extra efficient in blue spaces.

[tremendouslypaleduck-blog]

Compose Powerful Fiction - Report Eleven

Bear in mind as you read this, it really is created hunting at the western and historicals as examples, nonetheless the policies, unless or else specified, apply to all genres.... Topic: You've got listened to me speak of topic. Editors and readers want your novel to have a concept-and so do you. Great triumphs over evil is probably the most common. You can't maintain a great man down. A excellent female is tough to locate. As ye sew, so shall ye reap. Cheat me after, you might be a fool cheat me twice, I am a idiot. Themes. It helps you plot your novel if you have a theme. It will help you market your novel if you have a topic. It will help travel you during the novel it's the road map that will get you exactly where you might be likely, to The Conclude. Remain with it all through the tale, and demonstrate it with what you create. BUT Again TO THE Commencing: A single of the factors you must do in the starting of your novel, usually finished by the initial fourth of the guide and several moments by the conclude of the initial chapter, is pose the dilemma and define the gamers-the principal characters. Ethan's difficulty is to get out of the mess he is in. The Union soldier who returns to uncover his sister kidnapped by the Crow has an apparent dilemma-uncover the female. You also need to have to describe the environment and the ideal way is by dialogue and phase administration. What men and women say and what they do can explain to you a excellent deal about placing, time and location. App mobile king With contemptuous eyes the flat blue of the desert sky on a scorching day, the cackler little by little scanned Ethan. His mouth curled into a fifty percent smile then with a whisper of metal on oiled leather-based the Navy Colt appeared in his hand as if it had been there when he walked up. Ethan's mouth tasted copper concern. He could virtually feel the lead slug tearing by way of his upper body as his possess gun cleared the holster. The cackler's very first shot, fired as well speedily, cut the air close to Ethan's ear like an angry hornet, and its muzzle blast slapped at him, stinging his cheek. As Ethan thumbed back again the hammer, the boy's eyes flared in terror. Ethan's carefully aimed shot took the boy sq. in the middle of his chest, blowing him off his toes and slamming him to the ground. The boy's flailing left arm knocked above a fifty percent-complete spittoon. Tobacco juice and cigar butts mingled with the foamy blood pumping from the massive smoldering hole in his linsey woolsey shirt. Ethan unnecessarily thumbed back again the Walker's hammer as the boy's second shot, far more a dying spasm, smashed a single of the chimneys on the unlit coal oil fixture hanging high over him. Glass tinkled and fell some floated on the expanding pool of blood and spittle. The boy kicked 2 times, the Navy Colt slipping from his grasp, his eyes open up, staring. The place had reverberated with the echoing roar of the photographs, but now was deathly even now. Dust filtered down from the sculptured metal ceiling introducing to the haze in the smoky area. Ethan little by little panned the muzzle of the Walker. Did anybody else want to take a look at his affected person purpose? No audio, help save the boy's wheezing chest wound-then, with a very last death rattle, it was still. The echo of Ethan's hammer ratcheting down was followed by the audible sighs of the poker players and the bartender. Ethan sensed that far more than just the gunfight was more than. Anything else, like a thorn last but not least taken out from a festering sore, experienced ended in that saloon. Taking his first breath considering that the cackler had grabbed for his gun, Ethan turned again and bellied up to the bar, then noticed that the boy's shot had scored a hit. His.44 slug centered a neat gap in the naked remaining breast of the reclining nude whose portrait hung, now marginally crooked, guiding bar. The bartender jumped up, resting his enough stomach on the bar, eyed the useless boy, and uttered a lower whistle as if he was looking at something he didn't feel. Then he dismounted, turned, and cautiously straightened the image. Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan observed that the guys at the poker desk hadn't flinched leaving their palms in simple sight on the eco-friendly felt table top. The bartender drew Ethan an additional beer, and the stress flowed out of the area as the beer flowed into the mug. The large-bellied gentleman blew the foam off the prime and established the mug on the bar. "This one's on the residence, but it much better be your last." He gave Ethan a weary smile. Without having the cackling, it was pleasantly tranquil. Ethan re holstered the Walker and upended the mug. The gamers divvied up the cackler's cash, and returned to their recreation. Do not tumble into the lure of performing it the lazy way, by means of narrative. The sky was streaked with orange, the wind whipped. That is the lazy writer's way. Creative imagination: As it applies to writing-it's anything we all do a good deal of the time. It truly is pondering what if? As associated to the vignette we commenced earlier with Ethen on the operate, what would happen if Ethan's horse went lame? Would he trade his lame horse and his aged Walker.44 for an additional horse? Would you want a hero who'd steal a horse from an innocent rancher or farmer? And even if you did, would the market (the editors) want a hero who would steal a horse? Ethan notices from a rim rock on a high ridge that the posse has split up. A single rider took a ridge on the left flank, one particular a ridge on the right flank. How about Ethan using 1 of the posse horses? Somehow, it's far more satisfactory to have Ethan trade his horse-even while he is speaking about the subject with an unwilling guy who's hunting down the barrel of the aged Walker. So we are going to have him drive a trade on a posse member who's component of Ethan's problem. Or, what if Ethan slaps his horse on the rump and sends him on down the trail, therefore throwing the posse off. Ethan circles back again to the city on foot, goes to the livery and asks the aged man managing it the place the cackler's horse is, and steals it. Even far more satisfactory? That's creative imagination, but creative imagination with the market in brain. And if you want to sell a first novel, you should create to the market place, or threat creating your own. What if? That's creative imagination, as it applies to producing. Creative imagination is a item of the muse. So change your muse loose. MUSE If you review the craft of composing, and you should if you want to be a productive author, you'll listen to the expression muse. The phrase is taken from Greek mythology. Muse was a single of the 9 daughters of Zeus who was mentioned to reign or preside over the arts. She should have been a peaceful, reflective female.