#garote

[julietianboy]

Você conhece alguma bandeira para as pessoas que usam os termos "menine" e "garote"? Eu sei que isso tecnicamente se classificaria junto com alguma bandeira de pronome ê/elu/e mas eu estava procurando uma especificamente para esses termos. Se não tiver, você pode fazer uma? :)

English: Do you know any flags for people who use the terms "menine" (enby) and "garote" (enby)? I know this would technically classify under some ê/elu/e (they/them) pronoun flag but I was looking for one specifically for these terms. If not, can you make one? :)

Nunca vi uma bandeira pra isso, e eu não faço bandeiras por pedido, maaaas eu gostei dessa ideia então eu fiz algumas opções diferentes.

) bandeira de palavras gênero-neutro

[ Para Todos Verem 1: uma bandeira com três listras horizontais, nas seguintes cores: roxo claro, pérola e amarelo. /Fim de descrição ]

) bandeiras de garotes/menines/etc

[ Para Todos Verem 2: uma bandeira com cinco listras horizontais, nas seguintes cores: roxo escuro dessaturado, roxo dessaturado, lavanda claro, pérola e amarelo. /Fim de descrição ]

[ Para Todos Verem 3: uma bandeira com quatro listras horizontais, nas seguintes cores: roxo escuro dessaturado, roxo dessaturado, pérola e amarelo. /Fim de descrição ]

[ano-po]

Sometimes, it makes me laugh (sorry baeyanis) that Bonizal and Gomburza died of revolution-sparking political reasons, while my fathers Mabinaldo just died of natural reasons while being at the front of war. Funky guys, I tell you. And Aguinaldo died with all his thoughts and regrets in mind... Hah, desurv.

Can you recognize these people?

//yey, thankies for the follows.//

[randomgodfatherthoughts]

[gayfreudian]

part 1

[defnotmydykeypornblog]

forever salty that im not immortal specifically so that i could get fucked to death over and over

[martinbythelakes]

hala madrid. what more can i say honestly

[i-eat-bugs-and-dirt]

someone please kill me

[jjsanguine]

Watching a video with English hard subs that are tiny + don't transcribe any English dialogue + are in a white hairline font with no border or background.

Now I'm not a pacifist but if I was, seeing these subs would immediately inspire me to embrace violence

[ronnydeschepper]

Jean-Claude Garot: Snoopy versus the Red Baron

Op 16 juli 1986 krijg ik een artikel uit “The Bulletin” van 16/5/86 toegestuurd over Jean-Claude Garot (°oktober 1941) door Johannes Bresseleers als documentatie voor mijn stuk “Snoopy versus the Red Baron” dat ik wilde schrijven naar aanleiding van het merkwaardige feit dat de vroegere “revolutionair” Garot (van “Pour”) nu een duur Amerikaans wielertijdschrift (“Winning”) uitgeeft en nog elf…

[thebibliosphere]

I feel like I've complained about Tim's email situation in Gotham Knights before (edit: I have), but the truth of it is just so funny.

He's signed up for so many podcasts, video game streamers, and random news alerts; it's just a constant barrage of data going straight into his constantly whirring brain. Hell, he even floats the idea of the Batfamily having their own podcast as a way to correct misinformation about them (which Jason shoots down instantly), and it's made me realize something.

Timothy Drake would be a YouTuber.

In this universe specifically, Timothy Jackson Drake, the heir to Drake Industries and the foster son of the late Bruce Wayne would be a YouTuber.

Think about it. It'd be the perfect cover. Who would ever suspect that some 16-year-old nepo baby with a YouTube channel could ever be Red Robin? You'd have to be mad. I mean, look at him.

Red Robin just dropped out of literal thin air and garotted someone four times his size, and you expect anyone to believe that's the same kid who does 24-hour Minecraft charity streams and occasionally drops 6-hour video essays (his last one was on Lex Luthor's illegal bit mining operation on the moon)?

That kid?

You think that kid is Red Robin?

Ch'yah, okay, sure. And the Joker is funny 🤡.

[valtsv]

would you rather be garotted or just have your head cleaved off?

if it's happening to me, definitely cleaved off. being garotted would hurt for longer and i may be a masochist but i have my limits. plus i feel like the efficiency of it would provide its own kind of satisfaction.

[yayariley]

SUMMER LOVE - Matías Recalt

✦ ⸻ contexto: Matías finalmente vai para o Brasil pela primeira vez conhecer sua família e passar o fim de semana contigo no sitio dos seus tios.

✦ ⸻ matías recalt X leitora

✦ ⸻ fluff, mati falando português 🥺🤏

✦ ⸻ notas da autora: oi genteee, perdão não ter postado ontem acabei me atrapalhando toda e não consegui aparecer aqui. apenas a família da s/n vai ter um nome fixo!!

tava ansiosa p postar esse aaaa espero que gostem!!

Você e Matías namoravam há quase 2 anos, mas por conta de suas vidas corridas ele nunca teve a oportunidade de conhecer seus pais pessoalmente.

Ele se sentia ansioso, tinha medo de como seus pais, principalmente o seu pai, iriam tratá-lo, tinha medo de sua família não gostar dele, de acabar se sentindo excluído por ser estrangeiro.

Muitas coisas se passavam na cabeça de Matías e ele estava extremamente nervoso.

- Relaxa, Mati. Eles são tranquilos. - você pegou na mão dele enquanto dirigia. Por mais que Matías tivesse insistido em dirigir, você recusou porquê ele iria se perder na estrada e daria muita merda. Como da última vez que vocês foram pra uma trilha com ele dirigindo e quase capotou o carro.

- Não é fácil, você já conheceu meus pais, mas eu nunca conheci os seus.

Ele nunca tinha se sentido daquele jeito e você sabia disso. Matías era hiperativo, não parava quieto 1 segundo e parecia uma criança atentada, mas dessa vez ele estava quieto, pensativo e olhava pra rua com a cabeça encostada na janela.

- Bom, pelo menos já estamos chegando. Não quero que você se sinta mal por ser o único estrangeiro na casa, você sabe que é bem vindo.

- Eu sei, amor. Mas é nervosismo e medo de não gostarem de mim, é inevitável. - deu um risinho fraco e apertou a sua mão enquanto te admirava.

Quando ele não estava no 220 ou no modo tarado, o passatempo favorito dele era te admirar e dizer o quão linda você era, e apesar dele não falar nada só o olhar dele ja dizia por mais de mil palavras.

Vocês finalmente haviam chegado e você tinha saído do carro pra abrir o portão. Matías viu que tinha três carros, contando com o seu, estacionados. Ele se tremeu ao ver de longe a altura dos seus tios.

Então Matías resolveu sair do carro e você foi ajudá-lo a carregar as malas. Enquanto vocês subiam um "morrinho" até a casa, ele viu seus pais parados e você correu para cumprimentar seu pai.

- Matías, querido! Que bom você ter vindo. - sua mãe o puxou para um abraço apertado e ele sorriu aliviado.

- Mãe, ele não fala português.. - você deu um puxãozinho na blusa de sua mãe e ela te olhou surpresa. - Minha mãe disse que está feliz por você ter vindo.

- Obrigado, senhora. É um prazer conhecê-la. - ele diz em português, mas com uma certa dificuldade, e sua mãe sorriu batendo palmas.

- Quando é que você aprendeu isso?

- Tenho meus truques, gatita. - riu travesso e foi cumprimentar o seu pai. - Olá, senhor. Prazer conhecê-lo. - estendeu a mão para cumprimentar seu pai mas ele também o puxou para um abraço. Matías estava surpreso.

- Bem vindo, garoto. - falou em espanhol. - Eu treinei antes de vocês virem.

- Bom, essa é a minha mãe Catarina e meu pai Daniel. Se precisar de algo é só chamar eles.- você entrelaçou seus dedos com os de seu namorado e foi com ele até o quarto onde você ficava com seus primos quando mais nova. - Eu falei que daria tudo certo, não falei? - largou as malas no chão após trancar a porta e foi até Matías, segurando seu rosto e olhando em seus olhos que pareciam duas bolinhas de gude.

- Falou. - disse com uma certa dificuldade por você estar apertando suas bochechas e você riu achando fofo. - Tá rindo é? - então ele, de alguma maneira, pegou na sua cintura e te jogou na cama ficando por cima de você.

- Já ativou o modo Matías Transudo? - ele não riu e passou a língua pelos lábios enquanto olhava sua boca. - Pelo visto sim. - então você o puxou para um beijo quente e apaixonado. Fazia alguns dias desde que você e Matías haviam transado e ele estava desesperado, o desejo sexual do garoto era altíssimo.

Então ele passou a beijar seu rosto e foi descendo até seu pescoço. Você se segurava pra não soltar nenhum som alto, afinal sua família estava no andar de baixo, então você soltou apenas alguns resmungos enquanto seu namorado beijava seu pescoço e dava pequenas mordidas ali.

- Amor, amor! Para. - você interrompeu o garoto que te olhou confuso. - Não acha que se a gente transar agora não vão estranhar a demora?

- É, realmente. - coçou a nuca e riu sem graça. - Vamos na piscina pelo menos?

- Claro. - você se levanta animada da cama e logo foram de trocar.

- Finalmente! Achei que estavam fazendo meus netinhos - sua mãe diz sem nenhuma papa na língua e seu pai quase cospe o suco que estava bebendo.

- Catarina! Por Deus. - Daniel a repreende e a mulher o olha sem entender.

- Calma, mãe. Não estávamos fazendo nada. - você riu sem graça. - Estamos muito novos pra te dar netinhos. - dá uma piscadela e você puxa Matías para a piscina.

- Tá muito gelado, vou entrar não. - ele colocou a ponta do pé na água e faz uma careta, a essa hora você já estava dentro da água.

- Para de frescura, Matías! Entra logo nessa piscina.

- Eu não tô de frescura! Você vai pegar uma gripe ficando nessa água gelada sabia? - ele disse com as mãos na cintura parecendo o pocoyo e você revirou o olhos.

Não deu outra, sua avó havia empurrado Matías na piscina e quase foi junto.

A senhora tinha quase 70 anos mas era conservada.

- Larga de birra moleque! Nem tá tão gelada. - Matías te olhou assustado e você riu.

- Não ri não.

- Desculpa amor, minha avó é assim. - você se aproximou do seu namorado e o abraçou pela cintura, ficando no canto da piscina.

E mais uma vez estava Matías te admirando com aquele olhar que você tanto amava.

O dia havia sido incrível, você e Mati ficaram na piscina a tarde toda brincando com sua priminha de três anos, e inclusive você ficou pensando no Matías como pai de menina e seu coração derreteu.

Depois Matías virou melhor amigo do seu pai e dos seus tios, passaram o resto da tarde jogando truco, que haviam ensinado pra ele, e você ficou observando só de longe.

Vira e mexe você escutava o argentino berrar "truco!" e bater na mesa, aquilo te arrancava risadas e você acabou fazendo um compilado de vídeos do seu namorado jogando truco.

- Vocês ama ele, né? - sua mãe se aproximou e sentou ao seu lado, passando o braço ao redor do seu ombro.

- Demais, mãe. - você diz sorrindo e olhando Matías se divertir. - Apesar dele não saber muita coisa em português ele se deu muito bem com o papai e meus tios.

- Quando alguma coisa é pra ser, é desse jeitinho que acontece. - apoiou a cabeça na sua. - Estou tão feliz pela minha menina! Você pode trazê-lo quando quiser, eu amei o Matías.

E assim foi o melhor dia da sua vida. Matías e sua família era a combinação certa.

Suas tias ensinavam ele a dançar as famosas coreografias de axé, e sua mãe o ensinou a fazer tapioca - que ele inclusive te fez uma na manhã seguinte e estava uma delícia -, e ele teve uma conversa longa com seu pai pela noite, ambos sentados na grama e dividindo um cigarro.

Era disso que você precisava, essa era a paz que você tanto desejou e agora tinha em suas mãos.

obs: btw escrevi esse imagine escutando essa pedrada

[cuprohastes]

The Devil went down to Georgia.

And I interviewed him about it.

The Devil takes a long drag on his cigarette. When he exhales, a long sigh, there’s no smoke. he looks at it thoughtfully and puts it out.

"The thing about the fiddle…” he says “The thing that people don’t get, is that I was never going to win.”

He looks at the stump of his ciggy and grinds it out.

“That wasn’t the plan. The plan was to lose. I mean… a golden fiddle? I wish you could have heard it, it sounded like…” he waves a hand. He’s oddly reticent to swear.

“It was awful. Flat, screechy. And I mean, I made it sound good as it could get, y’know? But it was never going to be as good as a real fiddle.”

He laughs. It’s a warm, indulgent laugh, plummy and full of amusement. “No the plan was to lose it. You know how much a golden fiddle you won from the devil is worth? It’s worth… well more than gold.”

He pauses. “The smart thing would have been to take a hammer to it and melt it down, but who’s going to do that? That’s uh… just under 17 kilograms of gold. More than half a million these days.”

He takes another cigarette out and taps it, put it between his lips, takes a long suck that reduces a third of it to ash. I almost don’t notice that he never lit it, because I’m making a note that the prince of lies apparently favours Metric. Or thinks I do.

“It’s worth more with provenance, though. It’s rarer than a Strad - if you could get people to believe it was my actual fiddle, you could sell it for around twenty… thirty million, easily. But that’s the thing.”

And this is where the ol’ devil grins. It’s a brilliant happy smile, the smile of someone who pulled a caper off.

“… Some dumb farmboy goes out, comes back with a solid gold fiddle and a crazy story? Everyone wants the damn thing, for the gold, even if they don’t believe anything else. Family, friends, then the landlord and the Mayor, pretty soon everyone from the governor down was trying to levy taxes on this thing, or confiscate it - That kid killed two guys who broke in before one of them got him. The family started a vendetta against the people they thought they’d taken it. Both of them got beggared by taxes for something they never had…” he chuckles.

“The girl who stole it tried to pawn it, and the guy running the place took her in the back and garotted her with a handful of bootlaces. Bootlaces!” he stops to chuckle. “And then - He got robbed and there’s been at least four heists and ten lawsuits over it. Even I’m not sure where it is.”

He pauses again and stares into the distance, eyes unfocussed.

“Oh the Mar-a-Lago” he states. “Huh. Actually, I think I need to make a call about a certain hidden vault…”

[baldurs-gape]

Beware of the Pointy Bits

Somehow Gale had always thought that the most difficult part of dating a vampire would be avoiding the fangs. Loathe as he was to admit it, he was wrong. Kissing Astarion was easy, the other had had 200 years of perfecting how to kiss without revealing his fangs so it wasn't an issue. Not once did Gale nick his tongue or lips on them which was only a slight shame as there was something quite erotic about the idea. Then again his blood was rather potently vile so it was perhaps for the best.

Armour was one thing to get caught on. Weapons was not one Gale was a fan of. Nothing was worse than getting back to somewhere (mostly/kind of/somewhat) private only to have to start fiddling with straps and buckles. And gods forbid a metal pauldron was thrown to the ground in enthusiasm rather than delicately placed with reverence. Horny and eager did not make for a good combination for such moments. Astarion had actually bitched and moaned the one time Gale had discarded the chest piece of his armour and it got a scratch.

Then there was the issue of the helmet and Astarion's ears. Whoever came up with the design was obviously not very caring of pointy ears. Gale cursed them out when he'd tried to tug it off Astarion, only to elicit a yowl of pain rather than a purr of happiness. Rather than spend the time getting off, Gale had to sit with Astarion in his lap and rub his poor ears better. Elves and their sesitive ears, it was just not fair.

Finally though, sword, bow, arrows and armour (including helmet) came off and Gale thought maybe fortune would turn in his favour. Kissing Astarion, he pressed close against him only to jerk away.

"Ow." He rubbed just below his rib where something had poked him sharp. Looking a little sheepish, Astarion reached under his shirt and pulled a dagger out and Gale squeezed his eyes shut. "Why? You couldn't get that out from under your armour even if you needed it."

"If I get caught and taken prisoner they'll take my weapons and armour. But they'll never find all my weapons."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gale tried to will himself into the present moment. There was flirting with danger and there was bedding a walking armoury.

"Fine. Right. Could you please take all weapons and clothes off? The only thing I was hoping to get impaled on was your cock." But the mood was rather rapidly going.

Leering, Astarion reached down for his boot. Out came a dagger from the outside of his calf. An arrow from the inside. And the same on the other foot. His sock garters might as well have been called throwing knife stores with an alternate function to hold stockings up. On one level it was impressive. On another it was excessive.

"Excellent. Done?"

Astarion held a hand up to halt him moving closer. While his bracers had held a couple of daggers, under his sleeve were scalpels tied to his lower arms. Under his shirt, strapped to his back was a shortsword. After that Gale stopped paying much attention. What was more of note to his brain was the growing pile of weapons next to Astarion. Aside from the usual sharp and pointy there was now also a whip, a couple of bombs, a syringe, a couple of throwing stars. Finally Astarion stood naked before him, arms out to the side.

"Done!" His smile morphed into a frown. "Hang on!" Reaching into the curls of his hair, a coil of garotting wire joined the pile as well as a couple of lockpicking tools and a razorblade. "Now I'm done."

Somehow, Gale wasn't quite sure when, he had gone from post-battle "oh shit we're alive" sex desires to "you are so competent that my brain is leaking from my ears with how much I want you to put that competency to use on me". Thankfully, Astarion didn't much care which kind of horny he was, all that mattered was they had a good time.

[vaguely-concerned]

vows and vengeance unfortunately did not stick the emotional landing for me at all with the last episode, which is a bit sad! but I at least have to give the series overall credit for having gotten me through this autumn with some new dragon age to look forward to each week haha. some stunningly variable quality in the writing across the episodes (with the first one and davrin's being the strongest imo), and the finale was the weakest one along with episode 2 to me, I'm sorry to say.

(the way they ended the elio part of the story annoyed me so deeply because it would have been so easy to do better with barely any effort or changes, if you didn't want to alter the overall structure. we all basically knew he was dead from the beginning but you still have to take that seriously within the narrative. just. just sneak in one 'maybe real maybe just a dream' elio convo once nadia passed out. I needed the closure after monster elio all through the ep fhdsja. could be a kind spirit could be nadia's newly repaired psyche giving itself that kindness could actually be elio's soul -- leave it ambiguous but let them say goodbye properly 'on screen' and remind us who elio actually was, have him tell her to keep the ring because he meant for her to have it as a symbol both of his love for her and her finally reaching the acceptance that he's gone and letting go, 5 stages of grief narrative pattern resolving, bada bing bada boom bob's your uncle and other phrases of that nature you've got yourself more of an arc than anything that went down in the episode. you have to be careful playing around with not offering emotional resolution that way -- it has its place, but the writers did not have the skill to pull it off if that was what they were going for lol.)

BUT at the end of the day we got some little tastes of all the main companions along the way and most of all... we'll always have doc lucanis dellamorte's garotting & wound cauterizing crash courses happening within the span of like a few minutes of each other. he's got the range

[asmalltooth]

Paul comes up with the name Duncan the Moral in Dune but it only hits with Messiah where Duncan/Hayt is just.. intellectually brutal with him. and Emperor Paul is oddly ok with it like yeah my visions are a joke to my ghola yeah he wants me to do something about my problems instead of wallowing in misery no I don't want him garotted it's not his fault he came back a philosopher turned supercomputer. who else would tell Paul what he needs to hear, who else loves and serves him in equal amounts, who else but Duncan would look at the failmessiah and rip into him in the hopes of saving him from himself